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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Bransford of Rainbow Range, by Eugene Manlove
+Rhodes, Illustrated by Harvey T. Dunn
+
+
+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: Bransford of Rainbow Range
+       Originally Published under the title of Bransford in Arcadia, or, The Little Eohippus
+
+
+Author: Eugene Manlove Rhodes
+
+
+
+Release Date: August 25, 2010  [eBook #33498]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by D Alexander and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
+generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustration.
+      See 33498-h.htm or 33498-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33498/33498-h/33498-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33498/33498-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/bransfordofrainb00rhodiala
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+      1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters'
+         errors; otherwise every effort has been made to remain
+         true to the author's words and intent.
+
+      2. Text that was typeset in italics in the original book
+         is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). Text that was
+         underlined is enclosed by equal signs (=underlined=).
+
+
+
+
+
+BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE
+
+Originally Published under the title of
+
+BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA
+Or, The Little Eohippus
+
+by
+
+EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES
+
+Author of
+The Desire of the Moth,
+Good Men and True, West Is West, Etc.
+
+Frontispiece by Harvey T. Dunn
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Grosset & Dunlap
+Publishers   New York
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+Copyright, 1913, by
+Curtis Publishing Company
+
+Copyright, 1914, by
+Henry Holt and Company
+
+Copyright, 1920, by
+The H. K. Fly Company
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE HORSES WERE UNWILLING TO ENTER THE CIRCLE OF
+FIRELIGHT. _Page_ 181]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ CHAPTER                                               PAGE
+
+        PROLOGUE                                         1
+     I  THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL               27
+    II  FIRST AID                                       35
+   III  MAXWELTON BRAES                                 47
+    IV  THE ROAD TO ROME                                61
+     V  THE MASKERS                                     71
+    VI  THE ISLE OF ARCADY                              86
+   VII  STATES-GENERAL                                  95
+  VIII  ARCADES AMBO                                   106
+    IX  TAKEN                                          113
+     X  THE ALIBI                                      125
+    XI  THE NETTLE, DANGER                             136
+   XII  THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN                   150
+  XIII  THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN (_continued_)     169
+   XIV  FLIGHT                                         181
+    XV  GOOD-BY                                        194
+   XVI  THE LAND OF AFTERNOON                          205
+  XVII  TWENTIETH CENTURY                              215
+ XVIII  AT THE RAINBOW'S END                           226
+
+
+
+
+ BRANSFORD OF
+ RAINBOW RANGE
+
+
+
+
+ BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA
+
+
+
+
+ PROLOGUE
+
+
+ I
+
+
+The long fall round-up was over. The wagon, homeward bound, made camp
+for the last night out at the Sinks of Lost River. Most of the men, worn
+with threescore night-guards, were buried under their tarps in the deep
+sleep of the weary; sound as that of the just, and much more common.
+
+By the low campfire a few yet lingered: old-timers, iron men, whose wiry
+and seasoned strength was toil-proof--and Leo Ballinger, for whom youth,
+excitement and unsated novelty served in lieu of fitness.
+
+The "firelighters," working the wide range again from Ancho to Hueco,
+from the Mal Pais to Glencoe, fell silent now, to mark an unstaled
+miracle.
+
+The clustered lights of Rainbow's End shone redly, near and low. Beyond,
+above, dominant, the black, unbroken bulk of Rainbow Range shut out the
+east. The clear-cut crest mellowed to luminous curves, feathery with
+far-off pines; the long skyline thrilled with frosty fire, glowed,
+sparkled--the cricket's chirp was stilled; the slow, late moon rose to a
+hushed and waiting world.
+
+On the sharp crest she paused, irresolute, tiptoe, quivering, rosily
+aflush. Above floated a web of gossamer. She leaped up, spurning the
+black rim; glowed, palpitant, through that filmy lace--and all the
+desert throbbed with vibrant light.
+
+Cool and sweet and fresh, from maiden leagues of clean, brown earth the
+desert winds made whisper in grass and fragrant shrub; yucca, mesquite
+and greasewood swayed--so softly, you had not known save as the long
+shadows courtesied and danced.
+
+Leo flung up his hand. The air was wine to him. A year had left the
+desert still new and strange. "Gee!" he said eloquently.
+
+Headlight nodded. "You're dead right on that point, son. If Christopher
+K. Columbus had only thought to beach his shallops on the sundown side
+of this here continent he might have made a name for himself. Just think
+how much different, hysterically, these United States----"
+
+"_This_ United States," corrected Pringle dispassionately. Their fathers
+had disagreed on the same grammatical point.
+
+Headlight scowled. "By Jings! 'That _this_ United Colonies are, and of
+right ought to be, free and independent States,'" he quoted. "I was
+goin' to give you something new to exercise your talons on. You sit
+here every night, ridin' broncs and four-footin' steers, and never grab
+a horn or waste a loop, not once. Sure things ain't amusin'. Some
+variety and doubtful accuracy, now, would develop our guessin' gifts."
+
+Aforesaid Smith brandished the end-gate rod. "Them speculations of yours
+sorter opens up of themselves. If California had been settled first the
+salmon would now be our national bird instead of the potato. Think of
+Arizona, mother of Presidents! Seat of government at Milipitas; center
+of population about Butte; New Jersey howlin' about Nevada trusts!" He
+impaled a few beef ribs and held them over the glowing embers.
+
+"Georgia and South Carolina would be infested by cow-persons
+in décolleté leather panties," said Jeff Bransford. "New York
+and Pennsylvania would be fondly turning a credulous ear to the
+twenty-fourth consecutive solemn promise of Statehood--with the
+Senator from Walla Walla urging admission of both as one mighty
+State with Maryland and Virginia thrown in for luck."
+
+Headlight forgot his pique. "Wouldn't the railroads sound funny, though?
+Needles and Eastern, Northern Atlantic, Southern Atlantic, Union,
+Western, Kansas and Central Atlantic! Earnest and continuous demand for
+a President from east of the Mississippi. All the prize-fights pulled
+off at Boston."
+
+"Columbus done just right," said Pringle decisively. "You fellers ain't
+got no imagination a-tall. If this Western country'd been settled first,
+the maps would read: 'Northeast Territory.--Uninhabitable wilderness;
+region of storm and snow, roaming savages and fierce wild beasts.' When
+the intrepid explorer hit the big white weather he'd say, 'Little old
+San Diego's good enough for me!' Yes, sir!"
+
+"Oh, well, climate alone doesn't account for the charm of this
+country--nor scenery," said Leo. "You feel it, but you don't know why it
+is."
+
+"It sure agrees with your by-laws," observed Pringle. "You're a sight
+changed from the furtive behemoth you was. You'll make a hand yet. But,
+even now, your dimensions from east to west is plumb fascinatin'. I'd
+sure admire to have your picture to put in my cornfield."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Pringle: I'll exchange photographs with you," said Leo
+artlessly. A smothered laugh followed this remark; uncertainty as to
+what horrible and unnamed use Leo would make of Pringle's pictured face
+appealed to these speculative minds.
+
+"I've studied out this charm business," said Jeff. "See if I'm not
+right. It's because there's no habitually old men here to pattern after,
+to steady us, to make us ashamed of just staying boys. Now and then you
+hit an octagonal cuss like Wes here, that on a mere count of years and
+hairs might be sized up as old by the superficial observer. But if I
+have ever met that man more addicted with vivid nonchalance as to
+further continuance of educational facilities than this same Also Ran,
+his number has now escaped me. Really aged old people stay where they
+was."
+
+"I think, myself, that what makes life so easy and congenial in these
+latigos and longitudes is the dearth of law and the ladies." Thus
+Pringle, the cynic.
+
+A fourfold outcry ensued; indignant repudiation of the latter heresy.
+Their protest rose above the customary subdued and quiet drawl of the
+out-of-doors man.
+
+"But has the law no defenders?" demanded Leo. "We've got to have laws to
+make us behave."
+
+"Sure thing! Likewise, 'tis the waves that make the tide come in," said
+Jeff. "A good law is as handy as a good pocketbook. But law, as simply
+such, independent of its merits, rouses no enthusiasm in my manly bosom,
+no more than a signboard the day after Hallowe'en. If it occurs to me in
+a moment of emotional sanity that the environments of the special case
+in hand call for a compound fracture of the statutes made and
+provided--for some totally different cases that happen to be called by
+the same name--I fall upon it with my glittering hew-gag, without no
+special wonder. For," he declaimed, "I am endowed by nature with certain
+inalienable rights, among which are the high justice, the middle, and
+the low!"
+
+"And who's to be the judge of whether it's a good law or not? You?"
+
+"Me. Me, every time. Some one must. If I let some other man make up my
+mind I've got to use my judgment--picking the man I follow. By
+organizing myself into a Permanent Committee of One to do my own
+thinking I take my one chance of mistakes instead of two."
+
+"So you believe in doing evil that good may come, do you?"
+
+"Well," said Jeff judicially, "it seems to be at least as good a
+proposition as doing good that evil may come of it. Why, Capricorn,
+there isn't one thing we call wrong, when other men do it, that hasn't
+been lawful, some time or other. When to break a law is to do a wrong,
+it's evil. When it's doing right to break a law, it's not evil. Got
+that? It's not wrong to keep a just law--and if it's wrong to break an
+unjust law I want a new dictionary with pictures of it in the back."
+
+"But laws is useful and excitin' diversions to break up the monogamy,"
+said Aforesaid. "And it's a dead easy way to build up a rep. Look at
+the edge I've got on you fellows. You're just supposed to be
+honest--but I've been proved honest, frequent!"
+
+"Hark!" said Pringle.
+
+A weird sound reached them--the night wrangler, beguiling his lonely
+vigil with song.
+
+     "Oh, the cuckoo is a pretty bird; she comes in the spring----"
+
+"What do you s'pose that night-hawk thinks about the majesty of the
+law?" he said. There was a ringing note in his voice. Smith and
+Headlight nodded gravely; their lean, brown faces hardened.
+
+"You haven't heard of it? Old John Taylor, daddy to yonder warbler,
+drifted here from the East. Wife and little girl both puny. Taylor takes
+up a homestead on the Feliz. He wasn't affluent none. I let him have my
+old paint pony, Freckles--him being knee-sprung and not up to cow-work.
+To make out an unparalleled team, he got Ed Poe's Billy Bowlegs, née
+Gambler, him havin' won a new name by a misunderstanding with a
+prairie-dog hole. Taylor paid Poe for him in work. He was a willin' old
+rooster, Taylor, but futile and left-handed all over.
+
+"John, Junior, he was only thirteen. Him and the old man moseyed around
+like two drunk ants, fixin' up a little log house with rock chimbleys,
+a horse-pen and shelter, rail-fencin' of the little _vegas_ to put to
+crops, and so on.
+
+"Done you good to drop in and hear 'em plan and figger. They was one
+happy family. How Sis Em'ly bragged about their hens layin'! In the
+spring we all held a bee and made their _'cequias_ for 'em. Baker, he
+loaned 'em a plow. They dragged big branches over the ground for a
+harrow. They could milk anybody's cows they was a mind to tame, and the
+boys took to carryin' over motherless calves for Mis' Taylor to raise.
+Taylor, he done odd jobs, and they got along real well with their crops.
+They went into the second winter peart as squirrels.
+
+"But, come spring, Sis wasn't doin' well. They had the Agency doctor.
+Too high up and too damp, he said. So the missus and Em'ly they went to
+Cruces, where Em'ly could go to school.
+
+"That meant right smart of expense--rentin' a house and all. So the
+Johns they hires out. John, Junior, made his dayboo as wrangler for the
+Steam Pitchfork, acquirin' the obvious name of Felix.
+
+"The old man he got a job muckin' in Organ mines. Kept his hawses in
+Jeff Isaack's pasture, and Saturday nights he'd get one and slip down
+them eighteen miles to Cruces for Sunday with the folks.
+
+"Well, you know, a homesteader can't be off his claim more'n six months
+at a time.
+
+"I reckon if there was ever a homestead taken up in good faith 'twas the
+Butterbowl. They knew the land laws from A to Izzard. Even named their
+hound pup Boney Fido!
+
+"But the old man waited at Organ till the last bell rang, so's to draw
+down his wages, payday. Then he bundles the folks into his little old
+wagon and lights out. Campin' at Casimiro's Well, half-way 'cross, that
+ornery Freckles hawse has a fit of malignant nostolgy and projects off
+for Butterbowl, afoot, in his hobbles. Next day, Taylor don't overtake
+him till the middle of the evenin', and what with going back and what
+with Freckles being hobble-sore, he's two days late in reachin' home.
+For Lake, of Agua Chiquite, that prosperous person, had been keeping
+cases. He entered contest on the Butterbowl, allegin' abandonment.
+
+"Now, if it was me--but, then, if 'twas me I could stay away six years
+and two months without no remonstrances from Lake or his likes. I'm
+somewhat abandoned myself.
+
+"But poor old Taylor, he's been drug up where they hold biped life
+unaccountable high. He sits him down resignedly beneath the sky, as the
+poet says, meek and legal. We all don't abnormally like to precipitate
+in another man's business, but we makes it up to sorter saunter in on
+Lake, spontaneous, and evince our disfavor with a rope. But Taylor
+says, 'No.' He allows the Land Office won't hold him morally responsible
+for the sinful idiocy of a homesick spotted hawse that's otherwise
+reliable.
+
+"He's got one more guess comin'. There ain't no sympathies to machinery.
+Your intentions may be strictly honorable, but if you get your hand
+caught in the cogs, off it goes, regardless of how handy it is for
+flankin' calves, holdin' nails, and such things. 'Absent over six
+months. Entry canceled. Contestant is allowed thirty days' prior right
+to file. Next.'
+
+"That's the way that decision'll read. It ain't come yet, but it's due
+soon.
+
+"This here Felix looks at it just like the old man, only
+different--though he ain't makin' no statements for publication. He
+come here young, and having acquired the fixed habit of riskin' his
+neck, regular, for one dollar per each and every diem, shooin' in the
+reluctant steer, or a fool hawse pirouettin' across the pinnacles
+with a nosebag on--or, mebbee, just for fun--why, natural, he don't
+see why life is so sweet or peace so dear as to put up with any damn
+foolishness, as Pat Henry used to say when the boys called on him for
+a few remarks. He's a some serious-minded boy, that night-hawk, and
+if signs is any indications, he's fixin' to take an appeal under the
+Winchester Act. I ain't no seventh son of a son-of-a-gun, but my
+prognostications are that he presently removes Lake to another and,
+we trust, a better world."
+
+"Good thing, too," grunted Headlight. "This Lake person is sure-lee a
+muddy pool."
+
+"Shet your fool head," said Pringle amiably. "You may be on the jury.
+I'm going to seek my virtuous couch. Glad we don't have to bed no
+cattle, _viva voce_, this night."
+
+"Ain't he the Latin scholar?" said Headlight admiringly. "They blow
+about that wire Julius Cæsar sent the Associated Press, but old man
+Pringle done him up for levity and precision when he wrote us the
+account of his visit to the Denver carnival. Ever hear about it,
+Sagittarius?"
+
+"No," said Leo. "What did he say?"
+
+"Hic--hock--hike!"
+
+
+II
+
+Escondido, half-way of the desert, is designed on simple lines. The
+railroad hauls water in tank-cars from Dog Cañon. There is one depot,
+one section-house, and one combination post-office-hotel-store-saloon-
+stage-station, kept by Ma Sanders and Pappy Sanders, in about the order
+mentioned. Also, one glorious green cottonwood, one pampered rosebush,
+jointly the pride and delight of Escondido, ownerless, but cherished by
+loving care and "toted" tribute of waste water.
+
+Hither came Jeff and Leo, white with the dust of twenty starlit leagues,
+for accumulated mail of Rainbow South. Horse-feeding, breakfast, gossip
+with jolly, motherly Ma Sanders, reading and answering of mail--then
+their beauty nap; so missing the day's event, the passing of the Flyer.
+When they woke Escondido basked drowsily in the low, westering sun. The
+far sunset ranges had put off their workaday homespun brown and gray for
+chameleon hues of purple and amethyst; their deep, cool shadows, edged
+with trembling rose, reached out across the desert; the velvet air
+stirred faintly to the promise of the night.
+
+The agent was putting up his switch-lights; from the kitchen came a
+cheerful clatter of tinware.
+
+"Now we buy some dry goods and wet," said Leo. They went into the store.
+
+"That decision's come!" shrilled Pappy in tremulous excitement. "It's
+too durn bad! Registered letters from Land Office for Taylor and Lake,
+besides another for Lake, not registered."
+
+"That one from the Land Office, too?" said Jeff.
+
+"Didn't I jest tell ye? Say, it's a shame! Why don't some of you
+fellers----Gosh! If I was only young!"
+
+"It's a travesty on justice!" exclaimed Leo indignantly. "There's really
+no doubt but that they decided for Lake, I suppose?"
+
+"Not a bit. He's got the law with him. Then him and the Register is old
+cronies. Guess this other letter is from him unofficial, likely."
+
+Jeff seated himself on a box. "How long has this Lake got to do his
+filing in, Pappy?"
+
+"Thirty days from the time he signs the receipt for this letter--durn
+him!"
+
+"Some one ought to kidnap him," said Leo.
+
+"Why, that's illegal!" Jeff nursed his knee, turned his head to one side
+and chanted thoughtfully:
+
+     "Said the little Eohippus,
+       'I'm going to be a horse,
+     And on my middle fingernails
+       To run my earthly course'----"
+
+He broke off and smiled at Leo indulgently. Leo glanced at him sharply;
+this was Jeff's war-song aforetime. But it was to Pappy that Jeff spoke:
+
+"Dad, you're a better'n any surgeon. Wish you'd go out and look at Leo's
+horse. His ankle's all swelled up. I'll be mixin' me up a toddy, if Ma's
+got any hot water. I'm feeling kinder squeamish."
+
+"Hot toddy, this weather? Some folks has queer tastes," grumbled Pappy.
+"Ex-_cuse_ me! Me and Leo'll go look at the Charley-horse. That bottle
+under the shelf is the best." He bustled out. But Jeff caught Ballinger
+by the sleeve.
+
+"Will you hold my garments while I stone Stephen?" he hissed.
+
+"I will," said Leo, meeting Jeff's eye. "Hit him once for me."
+
+"Move the lever to the right, you old retrograde, and get Pappy to
+gyratin' on his axis some fifteen or twenty minutes, you listenin'
+reverently. Meanwhile, I'll make the necessary incantations. Git! Don't
+look so blamed intelligent, or Pappy'll be suspicious."
+
+Bransford hastened to the kitchen. "Ma Sanders, a bronc fell on me
+yesterday and my poor body is one big stone bruise. Can I borrow some
+boiling water to mix a small prescription, or maybe seven? One when you
+first feel like it, and repeat at intervals, the doctor says."
+
+"Don't you get full in _my_ house, Jeff Bransford, or I'll feed you to
+the hawgs. You take three doses, and that'll be a-plenty for you."
+
+Jeff put the steaming kettle on the rusty store stove, used as a
+waste-paper basket through the long summer. Touching off the papers with
+a match, he smashed an empty box and put it in. Then he went into the
+post-office corner and laid impious hands on the United States Mail.
+
+First he steamed open Lake's unregistered letter from the Land Office.
+It was merely a few typewritten lines, having no reference to the
+Butterbowl: "Enclosing the Plat of TP. 14 E. of First Guide Meridan
+East Range S. of 3d Standard Parallel South, as per request."
+
+He paused to consider. His roving eye lit on the wall, where the Annual
+Report of the Governor of New Mexico hung from a nail. "The very thing,"
+he said. Pasted in the report was a folded map of the Territory. This he
+cut out, refolded it till it slipped in the violated envelope, dabbed
+the flap neatly with Pappy's mucilage, and returned the letter to its
+proper pigeonhole.
+
+He replenished the fire with another box, subjected Lake's registered
+letter to the steaming process and opened it with delicate caution. It
+was the decision; it was in Lake's favor; and it went into the fire.
+Substituting for it the Plat of TP. 14 and the accompanying letter he
+resealed it with workmanlike neatness, and then restored it with a final
+inspection. "The editor sits on the madhouse floor, and pla-ays with the
+straws in his hair!" he murmured, beaming with complacent pride and
+reaching for the bottle.
+
+Pappy and Leo found him with his hands to the blaze, shivering. "I feel
+like I was going to have a chill," he complained. But with a few
+remedial measures he recuperated sufficiently to set off for Rainbow
+after supper.
+
+"Charley's ankle seems better," said Leo artlessly.
+
+"Don't you lay no stress on Charley's ankle," said Jeff, in a burst of
+confidence. "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be otherwise. Just
+let Charley's ankle slip your memory."
+
+The following day Bransford drew rein at Wes Pringle's shack and
+summoned him forth.
+
+"Mr. John Wesley Also Ran Pringle," he said impressively, "I have taken
+a horse-ride over here to put you through your cataclysm. Will you
+truthfully answer the rebuses I shall now propound to the best of your
+ability, and govern yourself accordingly till the surface of Hades
+congeals to glistening bergs, and that with no unseemly curiosity?"
+
+"Is it serious?" asked Pringle anxiously.
+
+"This is straight talk."
+
+Pringle took a long look and held up his hand. "I will," he said
+soberly.
+
+"John Wesley, do you or do you not believe Stephen W. Lake, of Agua
+Chiquite, to be a low-down, coniferous skunk by birth, inclination and
+training?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"John Wesley, do you or do you not possess the full confidence and
+affection of Felix, the night-hawk, otherwise known and designated as
+John Taylor, Junior, of Butterbowl, Esquire?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Do you, John Wesley Pringle, esteem me, Jeff Bransford, irrespective of
+color, sex or previous condition of turpitude, to be such a one as may
+be safely tied to when all the hitching-posts is done pulled up, and
+will you now promise to love, honor and obey me till the cows come home,
+or till further orders?"
+
+"I do--I will. And may God have mercy on my soul."
+
+"Here are your powders, then. Do you go and locate the above-mentioned
+and described Felix, and impart to him, under the strict seal of
+secrecy, these tidings, to wit, namely: That you have a presentiment,
+almost amounting to conviction, that the Butterbowl contest is decided
+in Lake's favor, but that your further presentiments is that said Lake
+will not use his prior right. If Taylor should get such a decision from
+the Land Office don't let him or Felix say a word to no one. If Mr. B.
+Body should ask, tell 'em 'twas a map, or land laws, or something.
+Moreover, said Felix he is not to stab, cut, pierce or otherwise
+mutilate said Lake, nor to wickedly, maliciously, feloniously and
+unlawfully fire at or upon the person of said Lake with any rifle,
+pistol, musket or gun, the same being then and there loaded with powder
+and with balls, shots, bullets or slugs of lead or other metal. You see
+to that, personal. I'd go to him myself, but he don't know me well
+enough to have confidence in my divinations.
+
+"You promulgate these prophecies as your sole personal device and
+construction--_sabe?_ Then, thirty days after Lake signs a receipt for
+his decision--and you will take steps to inform yourself of that--you
+sidle casually down to Roswell with old man Taylor and see that he puts
+preëmption papers on the Butterbowl. Selah!"
+
+
+III
+
+The first knowledge Lake had of the state of affairs was when the Steam
+Pitchfork punchers informally extended to him the right hand of
+fellowship (hitherto withheld) under the impression that he had
+generously abstained from pushing home his vantage. When, in the
+mid-flood of his unaccountable popularity, the situation dawned upon
+him, he wisely held his peace. He was a victim of the accomplished fact.
+Taylor had already filed his preëmption. So Lake reaped volunteer
+harvest of good-will, bearing his honors in graceful silence.
+
+On Lake's next trip to Escondido, Pappy Sanders laid aside his marked
+official hauteur. Lake stayed several days, praised the rosebush and Ma
+Sanders' cookery, and indulged in much leisurely converse with Pappy.
+Thereafter he had a private conference with Stratton, the Register of
+the Roswell Land Office. His suspicion fell quite naturally on Felix,
+and on Jeff as accessory during the fact.
+
+So it was that, when Jeff and Leo took in Roswell fair (where Jeff won a
+near-prize at the roping match), Hobart, the United States Marshal,
+came to their room. After introducing himself he said:
+
+"Mr. Stratton would like to see you, Mr. Bransford."
+
+"Why, that's all right!" said Jeff genially. "Some of my very great
+grandfolks was Dacotahs and I've got my name in 'Who's Sioux'--but I'm
+not proud! Trot him around. Exactly who is Stratton, anyhow?"
+
+"He's the Register of the Land Office--and he wants to see you there on
+very particular business. I'd go if I was you," said the Marshal
+significantly.
+
+"Oh, that way!" said Jeff. "Is this an arrest, or do you just give me
+this _in_-vite semi-officiously?"
+
+"You accuse yourself, sir. Were you expecting arrest? That sounds like a
+bad conscience."
+
+"Don't you worry about my conscience. 'If I've ever done anything I'm
+sorry for I'm glad of it.' Now this Stratton party--is he some aged and
+venerable? 'Cause, if he is, I waive ceremony and seek him in his lair
+at the witching hour of two this _tarde_. And if not, not."
+
+"He's old enough--even if there were no other reasons."
+
+"Never mind any other reasons. It shall never be said that I fail to
+reverence gray hairs. I'll be there."
+
+"I guess I'll just wait and see that you go," said the Marshal.
+
+"Have you got any papers for me?" asked Jeff politely.
+
+"No."
+
+"This is my room," said Jeff. "This is my fist. This is me. That is my
+door. Open it, Leo. Mr. Hobart, you will now make rapid forward motions
+with your feet, alternately, like a man removing his company from where
+it is not desired--or I'll go through you like a domesticated cyclone.
+See you at two, sharp!" Hobart obeyed. He was a good judge of men.
+
+Jeff closed the door. "'We went upon the battlefield,'" he said
+plaintively, "'before us and behind us, and every which-a-way we looked,
+we seen a roscerhinus.' We went into another field--behind us and before
+us, and every which-a-way we looked, we seen a rhinusorus. Mr. Lake has
+been evidently browsin' and pe-rusing around, and poor old Pappy, not
+being posted, has likely been narratin' about Charley's ankle and how I
+had a chill. Wough-ough!"
+
+"It looks that way," confessed Leo. "_Did_ you have a chill, Jeff?"
+
+Jeff's eyes crinkled. "Not so nigh as I am now. But shucks! I've been in
+worse emergencies, and I always emerged. Thanks be, I can always do my
+best when I have to. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we don't keep
+in practice! If I'd just come out straightforward and declared myself
+to Pappy, he'd 'a' tightened up his drawstrings and forgot all about my
+chill. But, no, well as I know from long experience that good old human
+nature's only too willin' to do the right thing and the fair thing--if
+somebody'll only tip it off to 'em--I must play a lone hand and not even
+call for my partner's best. Well, I'm goin' to ramify around and
+scrutinize this here Stratton's numbers, equipments and disposition.
+Meet me in the office at the fatal hour!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Marshal wore a mocking smile. Stratton, large, florid, well-fed and
+eminently respectable, turned in his revolving chair with a severe and
+majestic motion; adjusted his glasses in a prolonged and offensive
+examination, and frowned portentously.
+
+"Fine large day, isn't it?" observed Jeff affably. "Beautiful little
+city you have here." He sank into a chair. Smile and attitude were of
+pleased and sprightly anticipation.
+
+A faint flush showed beneath Stratton's neatly-trimmed mutton-chops.
+Such jaunty bearing was exasperating to offended virtue. "Ah--who is
+this other person, Mr. Hobart?"
+
+"Pardon my rudeness!" Jeff sprang up and bowed brisk apology. "Mr.
+Stratton, allow me to present Mr. Ballinger, a worthy representative of
+the Yellow Press. Mr. Stratton--Mr. Ballinger!"
+
+"I have a communication to make to you," said the displeased Mr.
+Stratton, in icy tones, "which, in your own interest, should be
+extremely private." The Marshal whispered to him; Stratton gave Leo a
+fiercely intimidating glare.
+
+"Communicate away," said Jeff airily. "Excommunicate, if you want to.
+Mr. Ballinger, as a citizen, is part owner of this office. If you want
+to bar him you'll have to change the venue to your private residence.
+And then I won't come."
+
+"Very well, sir!" Mr. Stratton rose, inflated his chest and threw back
+his head. His voice took on a steady roll. "Mr. Bransford, you stand
+under grave displeasure of the law! You are grievously suspected of
+being cognizant of, if not actually accessory to, the robbery of the
+United States Mail by John Taylor, Junior, at Escondido, on the
+eighteenth day of last October. You may not be aware of it, but you have
+an excellent chance of serving a term in the penitentiary!"
+
+Jeff pressed his hands between his knees and leaned forward. "I'm sure
+I'd never be satisfied there," he said, with conviction. His white teeth
+flashed in an ingratiatory smile. "But why suspect young John?--why
+not old John?" He paused, looking at the Register attentively.
+"H'm!--you're from Indiana, I believe, Mr. Stratton?" he said.
+
+"The elder Taylor, on the day in question, is fully accounted for," said
+Hobart. "Young Taylor claims to have passed the night at Willow Springs,
+alone. But no one saw him from breakfast time the seventeenth till noon
+on the nineteenth."
+
+"He rarely ever has any one with him when he's alone. That may account
+for them not seeing him at Willow," suggested Jeff. He did not look at
+Hobart, but regarded Stratton with an air of deep meditation.
+
+The Register paced the floor slowly, ponderously, with an impressive
+pause at each turn, tapping his left hand with his eyeglass to score his
+points. "He had ample time to go to Escondido and return. The envelope
+in which Mr. Lake's copy of this office's decision in the Lake-Taylor
+contest was enclosed has been examined. It bears unmistakable signs of
+having been tampered with." Turning to mark the effect of these tactics,
+he became aware of his victim's contemplative gaze. It disconcerted him.
+He resumed his pacing. Jeff followed him with a steady eye.
+
+"In the same mail I sent Mr. Lake another letter. The envelope was
+unfortunately destroyed, Mr. Lake suspecting nothing. A map had been
+substituted for its contents, and they, in turn, were substituted for
+the decision in the registered letter, with the evident intention of
+depriving Mr. Lake of his prior right to file."
+
+"By George! It sounds probable." Jeff laughed derisively. "So that's it!
+And here we all thought Lake let it go out of giddy generosity! My
+stars, but won't he get the horse-smile when the boys find out?"
+
+Stratton controlled himself with an effort. "We have decided not to push
+the case against you if you will tell what you know," he began.
+
+Jeff lifted his brows. "_We?_ And who's _we_? You two? I should have
+thought this was a post-office lay."
+
+"We are investigating the affair," explained Hobart.
+
+"I see! As private individuals. Yes, yes. Does Lake pay you by the day
+or by the job?"
+
+Stratton, blazing with anger, smote his palm heavily with his fist.
+"Young man! Young man! Your insolence is unbearable! We are trying to
+spare you--as you had no direct interest in the matter and doubtless
+concealed your guilty knowledge through a mistaken and distorted sense
+of honor. But you tempt us--you tempt us! You don't seem to realize the
+precarious situation in which you stand."
+
+"What I don't see," said Jeff, in puzzled tones, "is why you bother to
+spare me at all. If you can prove this, why don't you cinch me and Felix
+both? Why do you want me to tell you what you already know? And if you
+can't prove it--who the hell cares what you suspect?"
+
+"We will arrest you," said Stratton thickly, "just as soon as we can
+make out the papers!"
+
+"Turn your wolf loose, you four-flushers! You may make me trouble, but
+you can't prove anything. Speaking of trouble--how about you, Mr.
+Stratton?" As a spring leaps, released from highest tension, face and
+body and voice flashed from passive indolence to sudden, startling
+attack. His arm lashed swiftly out as if to deliver the swordsman's
+stabbing thrust; the poised body followed up to push the stroke home.
+"You think your secret safe, don't you? It's been some time ago."
+
+Words only--yet it might have been a very sword's point past Stratton's
+guard. For the Register flinched, staggered, his arrogant face grew
+mottled, his arm went up. He fell back a step, silent, quivering,
+leaning heavily on a chair. The Marshal gave him a questioning glance.
+Jeff kept on.
+
+"You're prominent in politics, business, society, the church. You've a
+family to think of. It's up to you, Mr. Stratton. Is it worth while? Had
+we better drop it with a dull, sickening thud?"
+
+Stratton collapsed into the chair, a shapeless bundle, turning a
+shriveled, feeble face to the Marshal in voiceless imploring.
+
+Unhesitating, Hobart put a hand on his shoulder. "That's all right, old
+man! We won't give you away. Brace up!" He nodded Jeff to the door. "You
+win!" he said. Leo followed on tiptoe.
+
+"Why, the poor old duck!" said Jeff remorsefully, in the passage. "Wish
+I hadn't come down on him so hard. I overdid it that time. Still, if I
+hadn't----"
+
+At the Hondo Bridge Jeff looked back and waved a hand. "Good-by, old
+town! Now we go, gallopy-trot, gallopy, gallopy-trot!" He sang, and the
+ringing hoofs kept time and tune,
+
+     "Florence Mehitabel Genevieve Jane,
+     She came home in the wind an' the rain,
+     She came home in the rain an' the snow;
+     'Ain't a-goin' to leave my home any mo'!'"
+
+"Jeff," said the mystified Ballinger, spurring up beside him, "what has
+the gray-haired Register done? Has murder stained his hands with gore?"
+
+Jeff raised his bridle hand.
+
+"Gee! Leo, I don't know! I just taken a chance!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL
+
+     "When I bend my head low and listen at the ground,
+     I can hear vague voices that I used to know,
+     Stirring in dim places, faint and restless sound;
+     I remember how it was when the grass began to grow."
+
+                         --_Song of The Wandering Dust_,
+                              ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH.
+
+
+The pines thinned as she neared Rainbow Rim, the turfy glades grew
+wider; she had glimpses of open country beyond--until, at last, crossing
+a little spit of high ground, she came to the fairest spot in all her
+voyage of exploration and discovery. She sank down on a fallen log with
+a little sigh of delight.
+
+The steep bank of a little cañon broke away at her feet--a cañon which
+here marked the frontier of the pines, its farther side overgrown with
+mahogany bush and chaparral--a cañon that fell in long, sinuous curves
+from the silent mystery of forest on Rainbow Crest behind her, to widen
+just below into a rolling land, parked with green-black powderpuffs of
+juniper and cedar; and so passed on to mystery again, twisting away
+through the folds of the low and bare gray hills to the westward, ere
+the last stupendous plunge over the Rim to the low desert, a mile toward
+the level of the waiting sea.
+
+Facing the explorer, across the little cañon, a clear spring bubbled
+from the hillside and fell with pleasant murmur and tinkle to a pool
+below, fringed with lush emerald--a spring massed about with wild
+grapevine, shining reeds of arrow-weed; a tangle of grateful greenery,
+jostling eagerly for the life-giving water. Draped in clinging vines,
+slim acacias struggled up through the jungle; the exquisite fragrance of
+their purple bells gave a final charm to the fairy chasm.
+
+But the larger vision! The nearer elfin beauty dwindled, was lost,
+forgotten. Afar, through a narrow cleft in the gray westward hills, the
+explorer's eye leaped out over a bottomless gulf to a glimpse of shining
+leagues midway of the desert greatness--an ever-widening triangle that
+rose against the peaceful west to long foothill reaches, to a misty
+mountain parapet, far-beckoning, whispering of secrets, things dreamed
+of, unseen, beyond the framed and slender arc of vision. A land of
+enchantment and mystery, decked with strong barbaric colors, blue and
+red and yellow, brown and green and gray; whose changing ebb and flow,
+by some potent sorcery of atmosphere, distance and angle, altered,
+daily, hourly; deepening, fading, combining into new and fantastic
+lines and shapes, to melt again as swiftly to others yet more
+bewildering.
+
+The explorer? It may be mentioned in passing that any other would have
+found that fairest prospect even more wonderful than did the explorer,
+Miss Ellinor Hoffman. We will attempt no clear description of Miss
+Ellinor Hoffman. Dusky-beautiful she was; crisp, fresh and sparkling;
+tall, vigorous, active, strong. Yet she was more than merely
+beautiful--warm and frank and young; brave and kind and true. Perhaps,
+even more than soft curves, lips, glory of hair or bewildering eyes, or
+all together, her chiefest charm was her manner, her frank friendliness.
+Earth was sweet to her, sweeter for her.
+
+This by way of aside and all to no manner of good. You have no picture
+of her in your mind. Remember only that she was young--
+
+     "The stars to drink from and the sky to dance on"
+
+--young and happy, and therefore beautiful; that the sun was shining in
+a cloudless sky, the south wind sweet and fresh, buds in the willow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The peace was rent and shivered by strange sounds, as of a giant falling
+downstairs. There was a crash of breaking boughs beyond the cañon, a
+glint of color, a swift black body hurtling madly through the
+shrubbery. The girl shrank back. There was no time for thought, hardly
+for alarm. On the farther verge the bushes parted; an apparition hurled
+arching through the sunshine, down the sheer hill--a glorious and
+acrobatic horse, his black head low between his flashing feet; red
+nostrils wide with rage and fear; foam flecks white on the black
+shoulders; a tossing mane; a rider, straight and tall, superb--to all
+seeming an integral part of the horse, pitch he never so wildly.
+
+The girl held her breath through the splintered seconds. She thrilled at
+the shock and storm of them, straining muscles and white hoofs,
+lurching, stumbling, sliding, lunging, careening in perilous arcs. She
+saw stones that rolled with them or bounded after; a sombrero whirled
+above the dust and tumult like a dilatory parachute; a six-shooter
+jolted up into the air. Through the dust-clouds there were glimpses of a
+watchful face, hair blown back above it; a broken rein snapped beside
+it, saddle-strings streamed out behind; a supple body that swung from
+curve to easy curve against shock and plunge, that swayed and poised and
+clung, and held its desperate dominion still. The saddle slipped
+forward; with a motion incredibly swift, as a hat is whipped off in a
+gust of wind, it whisked over withers and neck and was under the furious
+feet. Swifter, the rider! Cat-quick, he swerved, lit on his feet, leaped
+aside.
+
+Alas, oh, rider beyond compare, undefeated champion, Pride of Rainbow!
+Alas, that such thing should be recorded! He leaped aside to shun the
+black frantic death at his shoulder; his feet were in the treacherous
+vines: he toppled, grasped vainly at an acacia, catapulted out and down,
+head first; so lit, crumpled and fell with a prodigious splash into the
+waters of the pool! _Ay di mi, Alhama!_
+
+The blankets lay strewn along the hill; but observe that the long lead
+rope of the hackamore (a "hackamore," properly _jaquima_, is, for your
+better understanding, merely a rope halter) was coiled at the
+saddle-horn, held there by a stout hornstring. As the black reached the
+level the saddle was at his heels. To kick was obvious, to go away not
+less so; but this new terror clung to the maddened creature in his
+frenzied flight--between his legs, in the air, at his heels, his hip,
+his neck. A low tree leaned from the hillside; the aërial saddle caught
+in the forks of it, the bronco's head was jerked round, he was pulled to
+his haunches, overthrown; but the tough hornstring broke, the freed coil
+snapped out at him; he scrambled up and bunched his glorious muscles in
+a vain and furious effort to outrun the rope that dragged at his heels,
+and so passed from sight beyond the next curve.
+
+Waist-deep in the pool sat the hatless horseman, or perhaps horseless
+horseman were the juster term, steeped in a profound calm. That last
+phrase has a familiar sound; Mark Twain's, doubtless--but, all things
+considered, steeped is decidedly the word. One gloved hand was in the
+water, the other in the muddy margin of the pool: he watched the final
+evolution of his late mount with meditative interest. The saddle was
+freed at last, but its ex-occupant still sat there, lost in thought.
+Blood trickled, unnoted, down his forehead.
+
+The last stone followed him into the pool; the echoes died on the hills.
+The spring resumed its pleasant murmur, but the tinkle of its fall was
+broken by the mimic waves of the pool. Save for this troubled sloshing
+against the banks, the slow-settling dust and the contemplative bust of
+the one-time centaur, no trace was left to mark the late disastrous
+invasion.
+
+The invader's dreamy and speculative gaze followed the dust of the
+trailing rope. He opened his lips twice or thrice, and spoke, after
+several futile attempts, in a voice mild, but clearly earnest:
+
+"Oh, you little eohippus!"
+
+The spellbound girl rose. Her hand was at her throat; her eyes were big
+and round, and her astonished lips were drawn to a round, red O.
+
+Sharp ears heard the rustle of her skirts, her soft gasp of amazement.
+The merman turned his head briskly, his eye met hers. One gloved hand
+brushed his brow; a broad streak of mud appeared there, over which the
+blood meandered uncertainly. He looked up at the maid in silence: in
+silence the maid looked down at him. He nodded, with a pleasant smile.
+
+"Good-morning!" he said casually.
+
+At this cheerful greeting, the astounded maid was near to tumbling
+after, like Jill of the song.
+
+"Er--good-morning!" she gasped.
+
+Silence. The merman reclined gently against the bank with a comfortable
+air of satisfaction. The color came flooding back to her startled face.
+
+"Oh, are you hurt?" she cried.
+
+A puzzled frown struggled through the mud.
+
+"Hurt?" he echoed. "Who, me?... Why, no--leastwise, I guess not."
+
+He wiggled his fingers, raised his arms, wagged his head doubtfully and
+slowly, first sidewise and then up and down; shook himself guardedly,
+and finally raised tentative boot-tips to the surface. After this
+painstaking inspection he settled contentedly back again.
+
+"Oh, no, I'm all right," he reported. "Only I lost a big, black, fine,
+young, nice horse somehow. You ain't seen nothing of him, have you?"
+
+"Then why don't you get out?" she demanded. "I believe you are hurt."
+
+"Get out? Why, yes, ma'am. Certainly. Why not?" But the girl was already
+beginning to clamber down, grasping the shrubbery to aid in the descent.
+
+Now the bank was steep and sheer. So the merman rose, tactfully
+clutching the grapevines behind him as a plausible excuse for turning
+his back. It followed as a corollary of this generous act that he must
+needs be lame, which he accordingly became. As this mishap became acute,
+his quick eyes roved down the cañon, where he saw what gave him pause;
+and he groaned sincerely under his breath. For the black horse had taken
+to the parked uplands, the dragging rope had tangled in a snaggy
+tree-root, and he was tracing weary circles in bootless effort to be
+free.
+
+Tactful still, the dripping merman hobbled to the nearest shade
+wherefrom the luckless black horse should be invisible, eclipsed by the
+intervening ridge, and there sank down in a state of exhaustion, his
+back to a friendly tree-trunk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+FIRST AID
+
+     "Oh woman! in our hours of ease
+     Uncertain, coy and hard to please;
+     But seen too oft, familiar with thy face
+     We first endure, then pity, then embrace!"
+
+
+A moment later the girl was beside him, pity in her eyes.
+
+"Let me see that cut on your head," she said. She dropped on her knee
+and parted the hair with a gentle touch.
+
+"Why, you're real!" breathed the injured near-centaur, beaming with
+wonder and gratification.
+
+She sat down limply and gave way to wild laughter.
+
+"So are you!" she retorted. "Why, that is exactly what I was thinking! I
+thought maybe I was asleep and having an extraordinary dream. That wound
+on your head is not serious, if that's all." She brushed back a wisp of
+hair that blew across her eyes.
+
+"I hurt this head just the other day," observed the bedraggled victim,
+as one who has an assortment of heads from which to choose. He pulled
+off his soaked gloves and regarded them ruefully. "'Them that go down to
+deep waters!' That was a regular triumph of matter over mind, wasn't
+it?"
+
+"It's a wonder you're alive! My! How frightened I was! Aren't you
+hurt--truly? Ribs or anything?"
+
+The patient's elbows made a convulsive movement to guard the threatened
+ribs.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am. I ain't hurt a bit--indeed I ain't," he said truthfully;
+but his eyes had the languid droop of one who says the thing that is
+not. "Don't you worry none about me--not one bit. Sorry I frightened
+you. That black horse now----" He stopped to consider fully the case of
+the black horse. "Well, you see, ma'am, that black horse, he ain't
+exactly right plumb gentle." His eyelids drooped again.
+
+The girl considered. She believed him--both that he was not badly hurt
+and that the black horse was not exactly gentle. And her suspicions were
+aroused. His slow drawl was getting slower; his cowboyese broader--a
+mode of speech quite inconsistent with that first sprightly remark about
+the little eohippus. What manner of cowboy was this, from whose tongue a
+learned scientific term tripped spontaneously in so stressful a
+moment--who quoted scraps of the litany unaware? Also, her own eyes were
+none of the slowest. She had noted that the limping did not begin until
+he was clear of the pool. Still, that might happen if one were excited;
+but this one had been singularly calm, "more than usual ca'm," she
+mentally quoted.... Of course, if he really were badly hurt--which she
+didn't believe one bit--a little bruised and jarred, maybe--the only
+thing for her to do would be to go back to camp and get help.... That
+meant the renewal of Lake's hateful attentions and--for the other girls,
+the sharing of her find.... She stole another look at her find and
+thrilled with all the pride of the discoverer.... No doubt he was shaken
+and bruised, after all. He must be suffering. What a splendid rider he
+was!
+
+"What made you so absurd? Why didn't you get out of the water, then, if
+you are not hurt?" she snapped suddenly.
+
+The drooped lids raised; brown eyes looked steadily into brown eyes.
+
+"I didn't want to wake up," he said.
+
+The candor of this explanation threw her, for the moment, into a vivid
+and becoming confusion. The dusky roses leaped to her cheeks; the long,
+dark lashes quivered and fell. Then she rose to the occasion.
+
+"And how about the little eohippus?" she demanded. "That doesn't seem to
+go well with some of your other talk."
+
+"Oh!" He regarded her with pained but unflinching innocence. "The
+Latin, you mean? Why, ma'am, that's most all the Latin I know--that and
+some more big words in that song. I learned that song off of Frank John,
+just like a poll-parrot."
+
+"Sing it! And eohippus isn't Latin. It's Greek."
+
+"Why, ma'am, I can't, just now--I'm so muddy; but I'll tell it to you.
+Maybe I'll sing it to you some other time." A sidelong glance
+accompanied this little suggestion. The girl's face was blank and
+non-committal; so he resumed: "It goes like this:
+
+     "Said the little Eohippus,
+       'I'm going to be a horse,
+     And on my middle fingernails
+       To run my earthly course'----
+
+"No; that wasn't the first. It begins:
+
+     "There was once a little animal
+       No bigger than a fox,
+     And on five toes he scampered----
+
+"Of course you know, ma'am--Frank John he told me about it--that horses
+were little like that, 'way back. And this one he set his silly head
+that he was going to be a really-truly horse, like the song says. And
+folks told him he couldn't--couldn't possibly be done, nohow. And sure
+enough he did. It's a foolish song, really. I only sing parts of it when
+I feel like that--like it couldn't be done and I was going to do it, you
+know. The boys call it my song. Look here, ma'am!" He fished in his vest
+pocket and produced tobacco and papers, matches--last of all, a tiny
+turquoise horse, an inch long. "I had a jeweler-man put five toes on his
+feet once to make him be a little eohippus. Going to make a watch-charm
+of him sometime. He's a lucky little eohippus, I think. Peso gave him to
+me when--never mind when. Peso's a Mescalero Indian, you know, chief of
+police at the agency." He gingerly dropped the little horse into her
+eager palm.
+
+It was a singularly grotesque and angular little beast, high-stepping,
+high-headed, with a level stare, at once complacent and haughty. Despite
+the first unprepossessing rigidity of outline, there was somehow a
+sprightly air, something endearing, in the stiff, purposed stride, the
+alert, inquiring ears, the stern and watchful eye. Each tiny hoof was
+faintly graven to semblance of five tinier toes; there, the work showed
+fresh.
+
+"The cunning little monster!" Prison grime was on him; she groomed and
+polished at his dingy sides until the wonderful color shone out
+triumphant. "What is it that makes him such a dear? Oh, I know. It's
+something--well, childlike, you know. Think of the grown-up child that
+toiled with pride and joy at the making of him--dear me, how many
+lifetimes since!--and fondly put him by as a complete horse." She held
+him up in the sun: the ingrate met her caress with the same obdurate and
+indomitable glare. She laughed her rapturous delight: "There! How much
+better you look! Oh, you darling! Aren't you absurd? Straight-backed,
+stiff-legged, thick-necked, square-headed--and that ridiculously baleful
+eye! It's too high up and too far forward, you know--and your ears are
+too big--and you have such a malignant look! Never mind; now that you're
+all nice and clean, I'm going to reward you." Her lips just brushed
+him--the lucky little eohippus.
+
+The owner of the lucky little horse was not able to repress one swift,
+dismal glance at his own vast dishevelment, nor, as his shrinking hands,
+entirely of their own volition, crept stealthily to hiding, the
+slightest upward rolling of a hopeful eye toward the leaping waters of
+the spring; but, if one might judge from her sedate and matter-of-fact
+tones, that eloquent glance was wasted on the girl.
+
+"You ought to take better care of him, you know," she said as she
+restored the little monster to his owner. Then she laughed. "Hasn't he a
+fierce and warlike appearance, though?"
+
+"Sure. That's resolution. Look at those legs!" said the owner fondly.
+"He spurns the ground. He's going somewheres. He's going to be a horse!
+And them ears--one cocked forward and the other back, strictly on the
+_cuidado_! He'll make it. He'll certainly do to take along! Yes, ma'am,
+I'll take right good care of him." He regarded the homely beast with
+awe; he swathed him in cigarette papers with tenderest care. "I'll leave
+him at home after this. He might get hurt. I might sometime want to give
+him to--somebody."
+
+The girl sprang up.
+
+"Now I must get some water and wash that head," she announced briskly.
+
+"Oh, no--I can't let you do that. I can walk. I ain't hurt a bit, I keep
+telling you." In proof of which he walked to the pool with a palpably
+clever assumption of steadiness. The girl fluttered solicitous at his
+elbow. Then she ran ahead, climbed up to the spring and extended a firm,
+cool hand, which he took shamelessly, and so came to the fairy
+waterfall.
+
+Here he made himself presentable as to face and hands. It is just
+possible there was a certain expectancy in his eye as he neared the
+close of these labors; but if there were it passed unnoted. The girl
+bathed the injured head with her handkerchief, and brushed back his hair
+with a dainty caressing motion that thrilled him until the color rose
+beneath the tan. There was a glint of gray in the wavy black hair, she
+noted.
+
+She stepped back to regard her handiwork. "Now you look better!" she
+said approvingly. Then, slightly flurried, not without a memory of a
+previous and not dissimilar remark of hers, she was off up the hill:
+whence, despite his shocked protest, she brought back the lost gun and
+hat.
+
+Her eyes were sparkling when she returned, her face glowing. Ignoring
+his reproachful gaze, she wrung out her handkerchief, led the
+patient firmly down the hill and to his saddle, made him trim off a
+saddle-string, and bound the handkerchief to the wound. She fitted
+the sombrero gently.
+
+"There! Don't this head feel better now?" she queried gayly, with fine
+disregard for grammar. "And now what? Won't you come back to camp with
+me? Mr. Lake will be glad to put you up or to let you have a horse. Do
+you live far away? I do hope you are not one of those Rosebud men. Mr.
+La----" She bit her speech off midword.
+
+"No men there except this Mr. Lake?" asked the cowboy idly.
+
+"Oh, yes; there's Mr. Herbert--he's gone riding with Lettie--and Mr.
+White; but it was Mr. Lake who got up the camping party. Mother and Aunt
+Lot, and a crowd of us girls--La Luz girls, you know. Mother and I are
+visiting Mr. Lake's sister. He's going to give us a masquerade ball when
+we get back, next week."
+
+The cowboy looked down his nose for consultation, and his nose gave a
+meditative little tweak.
+
+"What Lake is it? There's some several Lakes round here. Is it Lake of
+Aqua Chiquite--wears his hair décolleté; talks like he had a washboard
+in his throat; tailor-made face; walks like a duck on stilts; general
+sort of pouter-pigeon effect?"
+
+At this envenomed description, Miss Ellinor Hoffman promptly choked.
+
+"I don't know anything about your Aqua Chiquite. I never heard of the
+place before. He is a banker in Arcadia. He keeps a general store there.
+You must know him, surely." So far her voice was rather stern and
+purposely resentful, as became Mr. Lake's guest; but there were
+complications, rankling memories of Mr. Lake--of unwelcome attentions
+persistently forced upon her. She spoiled the rebuke by adding tartly,
+"But I think he is the man you mean!" and felt her wrongs avenged.
+
+The cowboy's face cleared.
+
+"Well, I don't use Arcadia much, you see. I mostly range down Rainbow
+River. Arcadia folks--why, they're mostly newcomers, health-seekers and
+people just living on their incomes--not working folks much, except the
+railroaders and lumbermen. Now about getting home. You see, ma'am, some
+of the boys are riding down that way"--he jerked his thumb to indicate
+the last flight of the imperfectly gentle horse--"and they're right apt
+to see my runaway eohippus and sure to see the rope-drag; so they'll
+likely amble along the back track to see how much who's hurt. So I guess
+I'd better stay here. They may be along most any time. Thank you kindly,
+just the same. Of course, if they don't come at all----Is your camp
+far?"
+
+"Not--not very," said Ellinor. The mere fact was that Miss Ellinor had
+set out ostensibly for a sketching expedition with another girl, had
+turned aside to explore, and exploring had fetched a circuit that had
+left her much closer to her starting-place than to her goal. He
+misinterpreted the slight hesitation.
+
+"Well, ma'am, thank you again; but I mustn't be keeping you longer. I
+really ought to see you safe back to your camp; but--you'll
+understand--under the circumstances--you'll excuse me?"
+
+He did not want to implicate Mr. Lake, so he took a limping step forward
+to justify his rudeness.
+
+"And you hardly able to walk? Ridiculous! What I ought to do is to go
+back to camp and get some one--get Mr. White to help you." Thus, at once
+accepting his unspoken explanation, and offering her own apology in
+turn, she threw aside the air of guarded hostility that had marked the
+last minutes and threw herself anew into this joyous adventure.
+"When--or if--your friends find you, won't it hurt you to ride?" she
+asked, and smiled deliberate encouragement.
+
+"I can be as modest as anybody when there's anything to be modest about;
+but in this case I guess I'll now declare that I can ride anything that
+a saddle will stay on.... I reckon," he added reflectively, "the boys'll
+have right smart to say about me being throwed."
+
+"But you weren't thrown! You rode magnificently!" Her eyes flashed
+admiration.
+
+"Yes'm. That's what I hoped you'd say," said the admired one
+complacently. "Go on, ma'am. Say it again."
+
+"It was splendid! The saddle turned--that's all!"
+
+He slowly surveyed the scene of his late exploit.
+
+"Ye--es, that was some riding--for a while," he admitted. "But you see,
+that saddle now, scarred up that way--why, they'll think the eohippus
+wasted me and then dragged the saddle off under a tree. Leastways,
+they'll say they think so, frequent. Best not to let on and to make no
+excuses. It'll be easier that way. We're great on guying here. That's
+most all the fun we have. We sure got this joshing game down fine. Just
+wondering what all the boys'd say--that was why I didn't get out of the
+water at first, before--before I thought I was asleep, you know."
+
+"So you'll actually tell a lie to keep from being thought a liar? I'm
+disappointed in you."
+
+"Why, ma'am, I won't say anything. They'll do the talking."
+
+"It'll be deceitful, just the same," she began, and checked herself
+suddenly. A small twinge struck her at the thought of poor Maud, really
+sketching on Thumb Butte, and now disconsolately wondering what had
+become of lunch and fellow-artist; but she quelled this pang with a sage
+thought of the greatest good to the greatest number, and clapped her
+hands in delight. "Oh, what a silly I am, to be sure! I've got a lunch
+basket up there, but I forgot all about it in the excitement. I'm sure
+there's plenty for two. Shall I bring it down to you or can you climb up
+if I help you? There's water in the canteen--and it's beautiful up
+there."
+
+"I can make it, I guess," said the invited guest--the consummate and
+unblushing hypocrite. Make it he did, with her strong hand to aid; and
+the glen rang to the laughter of them. While behind them, all unnoted,
+Johnny Dines reined up on the hillside; took one sweeping glance at that
+joyous progress, the scarred hillside, the saddle and the dejected
+eohippus in the background; grinned comprehension, and discreetly
+withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MAXWELTON BRAES
+
+     "Oh the song--the song in the blood!
+     Magic walks the forest; there's bewitchment on the air--
+     Spring is at the flood!"
+
+                         --_The Gypsy Heart._
+
+     "Well, sir, this here feller, he lit a cigarette an' throwed
+     away the match, an' it fell in a powder kaig; an' do you know,
+     more'n half that powder burned up before they could put it out!
+     Yes, sir!"--WILDCAT THOMPSON.
+
+
+Ellinor opened her basket and spread its tempting wares with pretty
+hostly care--or is there such a word as hostessly?
+
+"There! All ready, Mr.----I declare, this is too absurd! We don't even
+know each other's names!" Her conscious eye fell upon the ampleness of
+the feast--amazing, since it purported to have been put up for one
+alone; and her face lit up with mischievous delight. She curtsied. "If
+you please, I'm the Ultimate Consumer!"
+
+He rose, bowing gravely.
+
+"I am the Personal Devil. Glad to meet you."
+
+"Oh! I've heard of you!" remarked the Ultimate Consumer sweetly. She sat
+down and extended her hand across the spotless linen. "Mr. Lake
+says----"
+
+The Personal Devil flushed. It was not because of the proffered hand,
+which he took unhesitatingly and held rather firmly. The blush was
+unmistakably caused by anger.
+
+"There is no connection whatever," he stated, grimly enough, "between
+the truth and Mr. Lake's organs of speech."
+
+"Oh!" cried the Ultimate Consumer triumphantly. "So you're Mr. Beebe?"
+
+"Bransford--Jeff Bransford," corrected the Personal Devil crustily. He
+wilfully relapsed to his former slipshod speech. "Beebe, he's gone to
+the Pecos work, him and Ballinger. Mr. John Wesley Also-Ran Pringle's
+gone to Old Mexico to bring back another bunch of black, long-horned
+Chihuahuas. You now behold before you the last remaining Rose of
+Rosebud. But, why Beebe?"
+
+"Why does Mr. Lake hate all of you so, Mr. Bransford?"
+
+"Because we are infamous scoundrels. Why Beebe?"
+
+"I can't eat with one hand, Mr. Bransford," she said demurely. He looked
+at the prisoned hand with a start and released it grudgingly. "Help
+yourself," said his hostess cheerfully. "There's sandwiches, and roast
+beef and olives, for a mild beginning."
+
+"Why Beebe?" he said doggedly.
+
+"Help yourself to the salad and then please pass it over this way. Thank
+you."
+
+"Why Beebe?"
+
+"Oh, very well then! Because of the little eohippus, you know--and other
+things you said."
+
+"I see!" said the aggrieved Bransford. "Because I'm not from Ohio, like
+Beebe, I'm not supposed----"
+
+"Oh, if you're going to be fussy! I'm from California myself, Mr.
+Bransford. Out in the country at that. Don't let's quarrel, please. We
+were having such a lovely time. And I'll tell you a secret. It's
+ungrateful of me, and I ought not to; but I don't care--I don't like Mr.
+Lake much since we came on this trip. And I don't believe----" She
+paused, pinkly conscious of the unconventional statement involved in
+this sudden unbelief.
+
+"----what Lake says about us?" A much-mollified Bransford finished the
+sentence for her.
+
+She nodded. Then, to change the subject:
+
+"You do speak cowboy talk one minute--and all booky, polite and proper
+the next, you know. Why?"
+
+"Bad associations," said Bransford ambiguously. "Also for 'tis my nature
+to, as little dogs they do delight to bark and bite. That beef sure
+tastes like more."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And now you may smoke while I pack up," announced the girl when
+dessert was over, at long last. "And please, there is something I want
+to ask you about. Will you tell me truly?"
+
+"Um--you sing?"
+
+"Yes--a little."
+
+"If you will sing for me afterward?"
+
+"Certainly. With pleasure."
+
+"All right, then. What's the story about?"
+
+Ellinor gave him her eyes. "Did you rob the post-office at
+Escondido--really?"
+
+Now it might well be embarrassing to be asked if you had committed a
+felony; but there was that behind the words of this naïve query--in
+look, in tone, in mental attitude--an unflinching and implicit faith
+that, since he had seen fit to do this thing, it must needs have been
+the right and wise thing to do, which stirred the felon's pulses to a
+pleasant flutter and caused a certain tough and powerful muscle to thump
+foolishly at his ribs. The delicious intimacy, the baseless faith, was
+sweet to him.
+
+"Sure, I did!" he answered lightly. "Lake is one talkative little man,
+isn't he? Fie, fie! But, shucks! What can you expect? 'The beast will do
+after his kind.'"
+
+"And you'll tell me about it?"
+
+"After I smoke. Got to study up some plausible excuses, you know."
+
+She studied him as she packed. It was a good face--lined, strong,
+expressive, vivid; gay, resolute, confident, alert--reckless, perhaps.
+There were lines of it disused, fallen to abeyance. What was well
+with the man had prospered; what was ill with him had faded and
+dimmed. He was not a young man--thirty-seven, thirty-eight--(she was
+twenty-four)--but there was an unquenchable boyishness about him,
+despite the few frosty hairs at his temples. He bore his hard years
+jauntily: youth danced in his eyes. The explorer nodded to herself,
+well pleased. He was interesting--different.
+
+The tale suffered from Bransford's telling, as any tale will suffer when
+marred by the inevitable, barbarous modesty of its hero. It was a long
+story, cozily confidential; and there were interruptions. The sun was
+low ere it was done.
+
+"Now the song," said Jeff, "and then----" He did not complete the
+sentence; his face clouded.
+
+"What shall I sing?"
+
+"How can I tell? What you will. What can I know about good songs--or
+anything else?" responded Bransford in sudden moodiness and
+dejection--for, after the song, the end of everything! He flinched at
+the premonition of irrevocable loss.
+
+The girl made no answer. This is what she sang. No; you shall not be
+told of her voice. Perhaps there is a voice that you remember, that
+echoes to you through the dusty years. How would you like to describe
+that?
+
+     "Oh, Sandy has monie and Sandy has land,
+     And Sandy has housen, sae fine and sae grand--
+     But I'd rather hae Jamie, wi' nocht in his hand,
+     Than Sandy, wi' all of his housen and land.
+
+     "My father looks sulky; my mither looks soor;
+     They gloom upon Jamie because he is poor.
+     I lo'e them baith dearly, as a docther should do;
+     But I lo'e them not half sae weel, dear Jamie, as you!
+
+     "I sit at my cribbie, I spin at my wheel;
+     I think o' the laddie that lo'es me sae weel.
+     Oh, he had but a saxpence, he brak it in twa,
+     And he gied me the half o't ere he gaed awa'!
+
+     "He said: 'Lo'e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa'!'
+     He said: 'Lo'e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa'!'
+     Bland simmer is cooming; cauld winter's awa',
+     And I'll wed wi' Jamie in spite o' them a'!"
+
+Jeff's back was to a tree, his hat over his eyes. He pushed it up.
+
+"Thank you," he said; and then, quite directly: "Are you rich?"
+
+"Not--very," said Ellinor, a little breathless at the blunt query.
+
+"I'm going to be rich," said Jeff steadily.
+
+"'I'm going to be a horse,' quoth the little eohippus." The girl
+retorted saucily, though secretly alarmed at the import of this
+examination.
+
+"Ex-actly. So that's settled. What is your name?"
+
+"Hoffman."
+
+"Where do you live, Hoffman?"
+
+"Ellinor," supplemented the girl.
+
+"Ellinor, then. Where do you live, Ellinor?"
+
+"In New York--just now. Not in town. Upstate. On a farm. You see,
+grandfather's growing old--and he wanted father to come back."
+
+"New York's not far," said Jeff.
+
+A sudden panic seized the girl. What next? In swift, instinctive
+self-defense she rose and tripped to the tree where lay her neglected
+sketch-book, bent over--and started back with a little cry of alarm.
+With a spring and a rush, Jeff was at her side, caught her up and glared
+watchfully at bush and shrub and tufted grass.
+
+"Mr. Bransford! Put me down!"
+
+"What was it? A rattlesnake?"
+
+"A snake? What an idea! I just noticed how late it was. I must go."
+
+Crestfallen, sheepishly, Mr. Bransford put her down, thrust his hands
+into his pockets, tilted his chin and whistled an aggravating little
+trill from the Rye twostep.
+
+"Mr. Bransford!" said Ellinor haughtily.
+
+Mr. Bransford's face expressed patient attention.
+
+"Are you lame?"
+
+Mr. Bransford's eye estimated the distance covered during the recent
+snake episode, and then gave to Miss Hoffman a look of profound respect.
+His shoulders humped up slightly; his head bowed to the stroke: he stood
+upon one foot and traced the Rainbow brand in the dust with the other.
+
+"I told you all along I wasn't hurt," he said aggrieved. "Didn't I,
+now?"
+
+"Are you lame?" she repeated severely, ignoring his truthful saying.
+
+"'Not--very.'" The quotation marks were clearly audible.
+
+"Are you lame at all?"
+
+"No, ma'am--not what you might call really lame. Uh--no, ma'am."
+
+"And you deceived me like that!" Indignation checked her. "Oh, I am so
+disappointed in you! That was a fine, manly thing for you to do!"
+
+"It was such a lovely time," observed the culprit doggedly. "And such a
+chance might never happen again. And it isn't my fault I wasn't hurt,
+you know. I'm sure I wish I was."
+
+She gave him an icy glare.
+
+"Now see what you've done! Your men haven't come and you won't stay with
+Mr. Lake. How are you going to get home? Oh, I forgot--you can walk, as
+you should have done at first."
+
+The guilty wretch wilted yet further. He shuffled his feet; he writhed;
+he positively squirmed. He ventured a timid upward glance. It seemed to
+give him courage. Prompted, doubtless, by the same feeling which drives
+one to dive headlong into dreaded cold water, he said, in a burst of
+candor:
+
+"Well, you see, ma'am, that little horse now--he really ain't got far.
+He got tangled up over there a ways----"
+
+The girl wheeled and shot a swift, startled glance at the little
+eohippus on the hillside, who had long since given over his futile
+struggles and was now nibbling grass with becoming resignation. She
+turned back to Bransford. Slowly, scathingly, she looked him over from
+head to foot and slowly back again. Her expression ran the
+gamut--wonder, anger, scorn, withering contempt.
+
+"I think I hate you!" she flamed at him.
+
+Amazement triumphed over the other emotions then--a real amazement: the
+detected impostor had resumed his former debonair bearing and met her
+scornful eye with a slow and provoking smile.
+
+"Oh, no, you don't," he said reassuringly. "On the contrary, you don't
+hate me at all!"
+
+"I'm going home, anyhow," she retorted bitterly. "You may draw your own
+conclusions."
+
+Still, she did not go, which possibly had a confusing effect upon his
+inferences.
+
+"Just one minute, ma'am, if you please. How did you know so pat where
+the little black horse was? _I_ didn't tell you."
+
+Little waves of scarlet followed each other to her burning face.
+
+"I'm not going to stay another moment. You're detestable! And it's
+nearly sundown."
+
+"Oh, you needn't hurry. It's not far."
+
+She followed his gesture. To her intense mortification she saw the blue
+smoke of her home campfire flaunting up from a gully not half a mile
+away. It was her turn to droop now. She drooped.
+
+There was a painful silence. Then, in a far-off, hard, judicial tone:
+
+"How long, ma'am, if I may ask, have you known that the little black
+horse was tangled up?"
+
+Miss Ellinor's eyes shifted wildly. She broke a twig from a mahogany
+bush and examined the swelling buds with minutest care.
+
+"Well?" said her ruthless inquisitor sternly.
+
+"Since--since I went for your hat," she confessed in a half whisper.
+
+"To deceive me so!" Pain, grief, surprise, reproach, were in his words.
+"Have you anything to say?" he added sadly.
+
+A slender shoe peeped out beneath her denim skirt and tapped on a buried
+boulder. Ellinor regarded the toetip with interest and curiosity. Then,
+half-audibly:
+
+"We were having such a good time.... And it might never happen again!"
+
+He captured both her hands. She drew back a little--ever so little; she
+trembled slightly, but her eyes met his frankly and bravely.
+
+"No, no!... Not now.... Go, now, Mr. Bransford. Go at once. We will have
+a pleasant day to remember."
+
+"Until the next pleasant day," said resolute Bransford, openly exultant.
+"But see here, now--I can't go to Lake's camp or to Lake's ball"--here
+Miss Ellinor pouted distinctly--"or anything that is Lake's. After your
+masked ball, then what?"
+
+"New York; but it's only so far--on the map." She held her hands apart
+very slightly to indicate the distance. "On a little map, that is."
+
+"I'll drop in Saturdays," said Jeff.
+
+"Do! I want to hear you sing the rest about the little eohippus."
+
+"If you'll sing about Sandy!" suggested Jeff.
+
+"Why not? Good-by now--I must go."
+
+"And you won't sing about Sandy to any one else?"
+
+The girl considered doubtfully.
+
+"Why--I don't know--I've known you for a very little while, if you
+please." She gathered up her belongings. "But we're friends?"
+
+"_No! No!_" said Jeff vehemently. "You won't sing it to any one
+else--Ellinor?"
+
+She drew a line in the dust.
+
+"If you won't cross that line," she said, "I'll tell you."
+
+Mr. Bransford grasped a sapling with a firm clutch and shook it to try
+its strength.
+
+"A bird in the bush is the noblest work of God," he announced. "I'll
+take a chance."
+
+Her eyes were shining.
+
+"You've promised!" she said. She paused: when she spoke again her voice
+was low and a trifle unsteady. "I won't sing about Sandy to--any one
+else--Jeff!"
+
+Then she fled.
+
+Like Lot's wife, she looked back from the hillside. Jeff clung
+desperately to the sapling with one hand; from the other a
+handkerchief--hers--fluttered a good-by message. She threw him
+a farewell, with an ambiguous gesture.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was late when Jeff reached Rosebud Camp. He unsaddled Nigger Baby,
+the little and not entirely gentle black horse, rather unobtrusively;
+but Johnny Dines sauntered out during the process, announcing supper.
+
+"Huh!" sniffed Jeff. "S'pose I thought you'd wait until I come to get
+it?"
+
+Nothing more alarming than tallies was broached during supper, however.
+Afterward, Johnny tilted his chair back and, through cigarette smoke,
+contemplated the ceiling with innocent eyes.
+
+"Nigger Babe looks drawed," he suggested.
+
+"Uh-huh. Had one of them poor spells of his."
+
+Puff, puff.
+
+"Your saddle's skinned up a heap."
+
+"Run under a tree."
+
+Johnny's look of innocence grew more pronounced.
+
+"How'd you get your clothes so wet?"
+
+"Rain," said Jeff.
+
+Puff, puff.
+
+"You look right muddy too."
+
+"Dust in the air," said Jeff.
+
+"Ah!--yes." Silence during the rolling of another cigarette. Then:
+"How'd you get that cut on your head?"
+
+Jeff's hand went to his head and felt the bump there. He regarded his
+fingers in some perplexity.
+
+"That? Oh, that's where I bit myself!" He stalked off to bed in gloomy
+dignity.
+
+Half an hour later Johnny called softly:
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+Jeff grunted sulkily.
+
+"Camping party down near Mayhill. Lot o' girls. I saw one of 'em. Young
+person with eyes and hair."
+
+Jeff grunted again. There was a long silence.
+
+"Nice bear!" There was no answer.
+
+"_Good_ old bear!" said Johnny tearfully. No answer. "Mister Bear, if I
+give you one nice, good, juicy bite----"
+
+"_U--ugg--rrh!_" said Jeff.
+
+"Then," said Johnny decidedly, "I'll sleep in the yard."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE ROAD TO ROME
+
+     "Behold, one journeyed in the night.
+     He sang amid the wind and rain;
+     My wet sands gave his feet delight--
+     When will that traveler come again?"
+
+                         --_The Heart of the Road_,
+                              ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH.
+
+
+A hypotenuse, as has been well said, is the longest side of a
+right-angled triangle. There is no need for details. That we are all
+familiar with the use of this handy little article is shown by the
+existence of shortcuts at every available opportunity, and by
+keep-off-o'-the-grass signs in parks.
+
+Now, had Jeff Bransford desired to go to Arcadia--to that masquerade,
+for instance--his direct route from Jackson's Ranch would have been
+cater-cornered across the desert, as has been amply demonstrated by
+Pythagoras and others.
+
+That Jeff did not want to go to Arcadia--to the masked ball, for
+instance--is made apparent by the fact that the afternoon preceding said
+ball saw him jogging southward toward Baird's, along the lonely base of
+that inveterate triangle whereof Jackson's, Baird's and Arcadia are the
+respective corners, leaving the fifty-five-mile hypotenuse far to his
+left. It was also obvious from the tenor of his occasional
+self-communings.
+
+"I don't want to make a bally fool of myself--do I, old Grasshopper?
+Anyhow, you'll be too tired when we get to 'Gene's."
+
+Grasshopper made no response, other than a plucky tossing of his bit and
+a quickening cadence in his rhythmical stride, by way of pardonable
+bravado.
+
+"I never forced myself in where my company wasn't wanted yet, and I
+ain't going to begin now," asserted Jeff stoutly; adding, as a fervent
+afterthought: "Damn Lake!"
+
+His way lay along the plain, paralleling the long westward range, just
+far enough out to dodge the jutting foothills; through bare white levels
+where Grasshopper's hoofs left but a faint trace on the hard-glazed
+earth. At intervals, tempting cross-roads branched away to mountain
+springs. The cottonwood at Independent Springs came into view round the
+granite shoulder of Strawberry, six miles to the right of him. He roused
+himself from prolonged pondering of the marvelous silhouette, where San
+Andres unflung in broken masses against the sky, to remark in a hushed
+whisper:
+
+"I wonder if she'd be glad to see me?"
+
+Several miles later he quoted musingly:
+
+     "For Ellinor--her Christian name was Ellinor--
+     Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her!"
+
+After all, there are problems which Pythagoras never solved.
+
+The longest road must have an end. Ritch's Ranch was passed far to the
+right, lying low in the long shadow of Kaylor; then the mouth of
+Hembrillo Cañon; far ahead, a shifting flicker of Baird's windmill
+topped the brush. It grew taller; the upper tower took shape. He dipped
+into the low, mirage-haunted basin, where the age-old Texas Trail
+crosses the narrow western corner of the White Sands. When he emerged
+the windmill was tall and silver-shining; the low iron roofs of the
+house gloomed sullen in the sun.
+
+Dust rose from the corral. Now Jeff's ostensible errand to the West Side
+had been the search for strays; three days before he had prudently been
+three days' ride farther to the north. The reluctance with which he had
+turned back southward was justified by the fact that this critical
+afternoon found him within striking distance of Arcadia--striking
+distance, that is, should he care for a bit of hard riding. This was
+exactly what Jeff had fought against all along. So, when he saw the
+dust, he loped up.
+
+It was as he had feared. A band of horses was in the waterpen; among
+them a red-roan head he knew--Copperhead, of Pringle's mount; confirmed
+runaway. Jeff shut the gate. For the first time that day, he permitted
+himself a discreet glance eastward to Arcadia.
+
+"Three days," he said bitterly, while Grasshopper thrust his eager
+muzzle into the water-trough--"three days I have braced back my feet and
+slid, like a yearlin' at a brandin' bee--and look at me now! Oh,
+Copperhead, you darned old fool, see what you done now!"
+
+In this morose mood he went to the house. There was no one at home. A
+note was tacked on the door.
+
+     Gone to Plomo. Back in two or three days. Beef hangs under
+     platform on windmill tower. When you get it, oil the mill.
+     Books and deck of cards in box under bed. Don't leave fire in
+     stove when you go.
+
+                         GENE BAIRD.
+
+     N. B.--Feed the cat.
+
+Jeff built a fire in the stove and unsaddled the weary Grasshopper. He
+found some corn, which he put into a woven-grass _morral_ and hung on
+Grasshopper's nose. He went to the waterpen, roped out Copperhead and
+shut him in a side corral. Then he let the bunch go. They strained
+through the gate in a mad run, despite shrill and frantic remonstrance
+from Copperhead.
+
+"Jeff," said Jeff soberly, "are you going to be a damned fool all your
+life? That girl doesn't care anything about you. She hasn't thought of
+you since. You stay right here and read the pretty books. That's the
+place for you."
+
+This advice was sound and wise beyond cavil. So Jeff took it valiantly.
+After supper he hobbled Grasshopper and took off the nosebag. Then he
+went to the back room in pursuit of literature.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Have I leave for a slight digression, to commit a long-delayed act of
+justice--to correct a grievous wrong? Thank you.
+
+We hear much of Mr. Andrew Carnegie and His Libraries, the Hall of Fame,
+the Little Red Schoolhouse, the Five-Foot Shelf, and the World's Best
+Books. A singular thing is that the most effective bit of philanthropy
+along these lines has gone unrecorded of a thankless world. This shall
+no longer be.
+
+Know, then, that once upon a time a certain soulless corporation, rather
+in the tobacco trade, placed in each package of tobacco a coupon, each
+coupon redeemable by one paper-bound book. Whether they were moved by
+remorse to this action or by sordid hidden purposes of their own, or,
+again, by pure, disinterested and farseeing love of their kind, is not
+yet known; but the results remain. There were three hundred and three
+volumes on that list, mostly--but not altogether--fiction. And each one
+was a classic. Classics are cheap. They are not copyrighted. Could I but
+know the anonymous benefactor who enrolled that glorious company, how
+gladly would I drop a leaf on his bier or a cherry in his bitters!
+
+Thus it was that, in one brief decade, the cowboys, with others, became
+comparatively literate. Cowboys all smoked. Doubtless that was a chief
+cause contributory to making them the wrecks they were. It destroyed
+their physique; it corroded and ate away their will power--leaving them
+seldom able to work over nineteen hours a day, except in emergencies;
+prone to abandon duty in the face of difficulty or danger, when human
+effort, raised to the nth power, could do no more--all things
+considered, the most efficient men of their hands on record.
+
+Cowboys all smoked: and the most deep-seated instinct of the human race
+is to get something for nothing. They got those books. In due course of
+time they read those books. Some were slow to take to it; but when you
+stay at lonely ranches, when you are left afoot until the water-holes
+dry up, so you may catch a horse in the waterpen--why, you must do
+something. The books were read. Then, having acquired the habit, they
+bought more books. Since the three hundred and three were all real
+books, and since the cowboys had been previously uncorrupted of
+predigested or sterilized fiction, or by "gift," "uplift" and "helpful"
+books, their composite taste had become surprisingly good, and they
+bought with discriminating care. Nay, more. A bookcase follows books; a
+bookcase demands a house; a house needs a keeper; a housekeeper needs
+everything. Hence alfalfa--houseplants--slotless tables--bankbooks. The
+chain which began with yellow coupons ends with Christmas trees. In some
+proudest niche in the Hall of Fame a grateful nation will yet honor that
+hitherto unrecognized educator, Front de Boeuf.[A]
+
+[Footnote A: "_Bull Durham._"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jeff pawed over the tattered yellow-backed volumes in profane
+discontent. He had read them all. Another box was under the bed, behind
+the first. Opening it, he saw a tangled mass of clothing, tumbled in the
+bachelor manner; with the rest, a much-used football outfit--canvas
+jacket, sweater, padded trousers, woolen stockings, rubber noseguard,
+shinguards, ribbed shoes--all complete; for 'Gene Baird was fullback of
+the El Paso eleven.
+
+Jeff segregated the gridiron wardrobe with hasty hands. His eye
+brightened; he spoke in an awed and almost reverent voice.
+
+"I ain't mostly superstitious, but this looks like a leading. First, I'm
+here; second, Copperhead's here; third, no one else is here; and, for
+the final miracle, here's a costume made to my hand. Thirty-five miles.
+Ten o'clock, if I hurry. H'm!
+
+"'When first I put this uniform on'--how did that go? I'm forgetting all
+my songs. Getting old, I guess."
+
+Rejecting the heavy shoes, as unmeet for waxed floors, and the
+shinguards, he rolled the rest of the uniform in his slicker and tied it
+behind his saddle. Then he rubbed his chin.
+
+"Huh! That's a true saying, too. I am getting old. Youth turns to youth.
+Buck up, Jeff, you old fool! Have some pride about you and just a little
+old horse-sense."
+
+Yet he unhobbled Grasshopper, who might then be trusted to find his way
+to Rainbow in about three days. He went to the corral and tossed a rope
+on snorting Copperhead. "No; I won't go!" he said, as he slipped on the
+bridle. "Just to uncock old Copperhead, I'll make a little horse-ride to
+Hospital Springs and look through the stock." He threw on the saddle
+with some difficulty--Copperhead was fat and frisky. "She don't want to
+see you, Jeff--an old has-been like you! No, no; I'd better not go. I
+won't! There, if I didn't leave that football stuff on the saddle! I'll
+take it off. It might get lost. Whoa, Copperhead!"
+
+Copperhead, however, declined to whoa on any terms. His eyes bulged out;
+he reared, he pawed, he snorted, he bucked, he squealed, he did anything
+but whoa. Exasperated, Jeff caught the bridle by the cheek piece and
+swung into the saddle. After a few preliminaries in the pitching line,
+Jeff started bravely for Hospital Springs.
+
+It was destined that this act of renunciation should be thwarted.
+Copperhead stopped and dug his feet in the ground as if about to take
+root. Jeff dug the spurs home. With an agonized bawl, Copperhead made a
+creditable ascension, shook himself and swapped ends before he hit the
+ground again. "_Wooh!_" he said. His nose was headed now for Arcadia; he
+followed his nose, his roan flanks fanned vigorously with a doubled
+rope.
+
+"Headstrong, stubborn, unmanageable brute! Oh, well, have it your own
+way then, you old fool! You'll be sorry!" Copperhead leaped out to the
+loosened rein. "This is just plain kidnapping!" said Jeff.
+
+Kidnapped and kidnapper were far out on the plain as night came on.
+Arcadia road stretched dimly to the east; the far lights of La Luz
+flashed through the leftward dusk; straight before them was a glint and
+sparkle in the sky, faint, diffused, wavering; beyond, a warm and mellow
+glow broke the blackness of the mountain wall, where the lights of
+low-hidden Arcadia beat up against Rainbow Rim.
+
+Jeff was past his first vexation; he sang as he rode:
+
+     "There was ink on her thumb when I kissed her hand,
+       And she whispered: 'If you should die
+     I'd write you an epitaph, gloomy and grand!'
+       'Time enough for that!' says I.
+
+"Keep a-movin here, Copperhead! Time fugits right along. You will play
+hooky, will you? 'I'm going to be a horse!'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE MASKERS
+
+     "For Ellinor (her Christian name was Ellinor)
+     Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her."
+
+                         --RICHARD HOVEY.
+
+
+It lacked little of the eleventh hour when the football player reached
+the ballroom--last comer to the revels. A bandage round his head and a
+rubber noseguard, which also hid his mouth, served for a mask, eked out
+by crisscrossed strips of courtplaster. One arm was in a sling--for
+stage purposes only.
+
+As he limped through the door, Diogenes hurried to meet him, held up his
+lantern, peered hopefully into the battered face and shook his
+disappointed head. "Stung again!" muttered Diogenes.
+
+Jeff lisped in numbers which fully verified the cynic's misgiving.
+"7--11--4--11--44!" he announced jerkily. This was strictly in character
+and also excused him from entangling talk, leaving him free to search
+the whirl of dancers.
+
+A bulky Rough Rider volunteered his help. He fixed a gleaming eyeglass
+on his nose and politely offered Jeff a Big Stick by way of a crutch.
+"Hit the line hard!" he barked. He bit the words off with a
+prize-bulldog effect. He had fine teeth.
+
+Jeff waved him off. "16--2--1!" he proclaimed controversially. He felt
+his spirits sinking, with a growing doubt of his ability to identify the
+Only One, and was impatient of interruption. He kept his slow and
+watchful way down the floor.
+
+Topsy broke away from her partner and stopped Jeff's crippled progress.
+Her short hair, braided to a dozen tight and tiny pigtails, bristled
+away in all directions.
+
+"Laws, young marsta', you suhtenly does look puny!" she said. Then she
+clutched at her knee. "_Aie!_" she tittered, as a loose red stocking
+dropped flappingly to her ankle. Pray do not be shocked. The effect was
+startling; but a black stocking, decorously tight and smooth, was
+beneath the red one. Jeff's mathematics were not equal to the strain of
+adequate comment. Topsy dived to the rescue. "Got a string?" she
+giggled, as she hitched the fallen stocking back to place. "I cain't fix
+this good nohow!"
+
+Jeff jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Man over there with an
+eyeglass cord--maybe you can get that. What makes you act so?" He looked
+cold disapproval; nevertheless, he looked.
+
+Topsy hung her head, still clutching at the stocking-top. "Dunno. I
+spec's it's 'cause Ise so wicked!" Finger in mouth, she looked after
+Jeff as he hobbled away.
+
+A slender witch bounced from a chair and barred his way with a broom.
+Her eyes were brimming sorcery; her lips looked saucy challenge; she
+leaned close for a whispered word in his ear: "How would you like to
+tackle me?"
+
+Poor Jeff! "10, 2--10, 2!" he promised huskily. Yet he ducked beneath
+the broom.
+
+"But," said the little witch plaintively, "you're going away!" She
+dropped her broom and wept.
+
+"8, 2--8, 2--8, 2!" said Jeff, almost in tears himself, and again fell
+back upon English. "Mere figures or mere words can't tell you how much I
+hate to; but I've got to follow the ball. I'm looking for a fellow."
+
+"If he--if he doesn't love you," sobbed the stricken witch, "then you'll
+come back to me--won't you? I love a liar!"
+
+"To the very stake!" vowed Jeff. Such heroic, if conditional, constancy
+was not to go unrewarded. A couple detached themselves from the dancers,
+threaded their way to a corner of the long hall and stood there in deep
+converse. Jeff quickened pulse and pace--for one was a Red Devil and the
+other wore the soft gray costume of a Friend. She was tall, this
+Quakeress, and the hobnobbing devil was of Jeff's own height. Jeff began
+to hope for a goal.
+
+Briskly limping, he came to this engrossed couple and laid a friendly
+hand on the devil's shoulder.
+
+"Brother," he said cordially, "will you please go to--home?"
+
+The devil recoiled an astonished step.
+
+"What? What!! Show me your license!"
+
+"Twenty-three!--Please!--there's a good devil--23! I'm the right guard
+for this lady, I hope. Oh, please to go home!"
+
+The devil took this request in very bad part.
+
+"Go back fifteen yards for offside play and take a drop kick at
+yourself!" he suggested sourly.
+
+A burly policeman, plainly conscious of fitting his uniform, paused for
+warning.
+
+"No scrappin' now! Don't start nothin' or I'll run in the t'ree av
+yees!" he said, and sauntered on, twirling a graceful nightstick.
+
+"Thee is a local man, judging from thy letters," said the Quaker lady,
+to relieve the somewhat strained situation. "What do they stand for? E.
+P.? Oh, yes--El Paso, of course!"
+
+"I saw you first!" said the Red Devil. "And with your disposition you
+would naturally find me more suitable. Make your choice of gridirons!
+Send him back to the side lines! Disqualify him for interference!"
+
+"Don't be hurried into a decision," said Jeff. "Eternity is a good
+while. Before it's over I'm going to be a--well, something more than a
+footballer. Golf, maybe--or tiddledywinks."
+
+The Quakeress glanced attentively from one to the other.
+
+"Doubtless he will do his best to forward Thy Majesty's interests," she
+interposed. "Why not give him a chance?"
+
+The devil shrugged his shoulders. "I always prefer to give this branch
+of work my personal attention," he said stiffly.
+
+"A specialty of thine?" mocked the girl.
+
+The devil bowed sulkily.
+
+"My heart is in it. Of course, if you prefer the bungling of a novice,
+there is no more to be said."
+
+"Thy Majesty's manners have never been questioned," murmured the
+Quakeress, bowing dismissal. "So kind of you!"
+
+The devil bowed deeply and turned, pausing to hurl a gloomy prophecy
+over his shoulder. "See you later!" he said, and stalked away with an
+ill grace.
+
+Pigskin hero and girl Friend, left alone, eyed each other with mutual
+apprehension. The girl Friend was first to recover speech. Her red lips
+were prim below her vizor, her eyes downcast to hide their dancing
+lights. Timidly she spread out fanwise the dove color of her sober
+costume.
+
+"How does thee like my gray gown?"
+
+"Not at all," said Jeff brutally. "You're no friend of mine, I hope."
+
+A most un-Quakerlike dimple trembled to her chin, relieving the firm
+austerity of straight lips. Also, Jeff caught a glimpse of her eyes
+through the vizor. They were crinkling--and they were brown. She
+ventured another tentative remark, and there was in it an undertone
+lingering, softly confidential.
+
+"Is thee lame?"
+
+"Not--very," said Jeff, and saw a faint color start to the unmasked
+moiety of the Quaker cheek. "Still, if I may have the next dance, I
+shall be glad if you will sit it out with me." Painfully he raised the
+beslinged arm in explanation. _Sobre las Olas_ throbbed out its wistful
+call; they set their thought to its haunting measure.
+
+"By all means!" She took his undamaged arm. "Let us find chairs."
+
+Now there were chairs to the left of them, chairs to the right of them,
+chairs vacant everywhere; but the gallant Six Hundred themselves were
+not more heedless or undismayed than these two. Still, all the world did
+not wonder. On the contrary, not even the anxious devil saw them after
+they passed behind a knot of would-be dancers who were striving to
+disentangle themselves. For, seeing traffic thus blocked, the policeman
+rushed to unsnarl the tangle. Magnificently he flourished his stick. He
+adjured them roughly: "Move on, yous! Move on!" Whereat, with one
+impulse, the tangle moved on the copper, swept over him, engulfed him,
+hustled him to the door and threw him out.
+
+So screened, the chair-hunters vanished in far less than a psychological
+moment: for Jeff, in obedience to a faint or fancied pressure on his
+arm, dived through portières into a small room set apart for such as had
+the heart to prefer cards or chess. The room was deserted now and there
+was a broad window open to the night. Thus, thrice favored of
+Providence, they found themselves in the garden, chairless but cheerful.
+
+A garden with one Eve is the perfect combination in a world awry.
+Muffled, the music and the sounds of the ballroom came faint and far to
+them; star-made shadows danced at their feet. The girl paused,
+expectant; but it was the unexpected that happened. The nimble tongue
+which had done such faithful service for Mr. Bransford now failed him
+quite: left him struggling, dumb, inarticulate, helpless--tongue and
+hand alike forgetful of their cunning.
+
+Be sure the maid had adroitly heard much of Mr. Bransford, his deeds and
+misdeeds, during the tedious interval since their first meeting. Report
+had dwelt lovingly upon Mr. Bransford's eloquence at need. This awkward
+silence was a tribute of sincerity above question.
+
+With difficulty Ellinor mastered a wild desire to ask where the cat had
+gone. "Oh, come ye in peace here or come ye in war?" Such injudicious
+quotation trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she suppressed
+it--barely in time. She felt herself growing nervous with the fear lest
+she should be hurried into some all too luminous speech. And still Jeff
+stood there, lost, speechless, helpless, unready, a clumsy oaf, an
+object of pity. Pity at last, or a kindred feeling, drove her to the
+rescue. And, just as she had feared, she said, in her generous haste,
+far too much.
+
+"I thought you were not coming?"
+
+The inflection made a question of this statement. Also, by implication,
+it answered so many questions yet unworded that Jeff was able to use his
+tongue again; but it was not the trusty tongue of yore--witness this
+wooden speech:
+
+"You mean you thought I said I wasn't coming--don't you? You knew I
+would come."
+
+"Indeed? How should I know what you would do? I've only seen you once.
+Aren't you forgetting that?"
+
+"Why else did you make up as a Friend then?"
+
+"Oh! Oh, dear, these men! There's conceit for you! I chose my costume
+solely to trap Mr. Bransford's eye? Is that it? Doubtless all my
+thoughts have centered on Mr. Bransford since I first saw him!"
+
+"You know I didn't mean that, Miss Ellinor. I----"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, if you please!"
+
+"Miss Hoffman. Don't be mean to me. I've only got an hour----"
+
+"An hour! Do you imagine for one second----Why, I mustn't stay here.
+This is really a farewell dance given in my honor. We go back East day
+after to-morrow. I must go in."
+
+"Only one little hour. And I have come a long ways for my hour. They
+take their masks off at midnight--don't they? And of course I can't stay
+after that. I want only just to ask you----"
+
+"Why did you come then? Isn't it rather unusual to go uninvited to a
+ball?"
+
+"Why, I reckon you nearly know why I come, Miss Hoffman; but if you want
+me to say precisely, ma'am----"
+
+"I don't!"
+
+"We'll keep that for a surprise, then. Another thing: I wanted to find
+out just where you live in New York. I forgot to ask you. And I couldn't
+very well go round asking folks after you're gone--could I? Of course I
+didn't have any invitation--from Mr. Lake; but I thought, if he didn't
+know it, he wouldn't mind me just stepping in to get your address."
+
+"Well, of all the assurance!" said Miss Ellinor. "Do you intend to
+start up a correspondence with me without even the formality of asking
+my consent?"
+
+"Why, Miss Ellinor, ma'am, I thought----"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, sir! Yes--and there's another thing. You said you had no
+invitation--from Mr. Lake. Does that mean, by any chance, that I invited
+you?"
+
+"You didn't say a word about my coming," said Jeff. He was a flustered
+man, this poor Bransford, but he managed to put a slight stress upon the
+word "say."
+
+Miss Ellinor--Miss Hoffman--caught this faint emphasis instantly.
+
+"Oh, I didn't _say_ anything? I just looked an invitation, I suppose?"
+she stormed. "Melting eyes--and that sort of thing? Tears in them,
+maybe? Poor girl! Poor little child! It would be cruel to let her go
+home without seeing me again. I will give her a little more happiness,
+poor thing, and write to her a while. Maybe it would be wiser, though,
+just to make a quarrel and break loose at once. She'll get over it in a
+little while after she gets back to New York. Well! Upon my word!"
+
+As she advanced these horrible suppositions, Miss Hoffman had marked out
+a short beat of garden path--five steps and a turn; five steps back and
+whirl again--with, on the whole, a caged-tigress effect. With a
+double-quick at each turn to keep his place at her elbow, Jeff, utterly
+aghast at the damnable perversity of everything on earth, vainly
+endeavored to make coördinate and stumbling remonstrance. As she stopped
+for breath, Jeff heard his own voice at last, propounding to the world
+at large a stunned query as to whether the abode of lost spirits could
+afford aught to excel the present situation. The remark struck him: he
+paused to wonder what other things he had been saying.
+
+Miss Ellinor walked her beat, vindictive. Her chin was at an angle of
+complacency. She turned up the perky corners of an imaginary mustache
+with an air, an exasperating little finger, separated from the others,
+pointing upward in hateful self-satisfaction. Her mouth wore a gratified
+masculine smirk, visible even in the starlight; her gait was a leisured
+and lordly strut; her hand waved airy pity. Jeff shrank back in horror.
+
+"M-Miss Hoffman, I n-never d-dreamed----"
+
+Miss Hoffman turned upon him swiftly.
+
+"Never have I heard anything like it--never! You bring me out here
+willy-nilly, and by way of entertainment you virtually accuse me of
+throwing myself at your head."
+
+"I never!" said Jeff indignantly. "I didn't----"
+
+Miss Hoffman faced him crouchingly and shook an indictment from her
+fingers.
+
+"First, you imply that I enticed you to come; second, expecting you, I
+dressed to catch your eye; third, I was watching eagerly for you----"
+
+"Come--I say now!" The baited and exasperated victim walked headlong
+into the trap. "The first thing you did was to ask me if I was lame?
+Wasn't that question meant to find out who I was? When I answered,
+'Not--very,' didn't you know at once that it was me?"
+
+"There! That proves exactly what I was just saying," raged the delighted
+trapper. "You don't even deny it! You say in so many words that I have
+been courting you! I had to say something--didn't I? You wouldn't! You
+were limping, so I asked you if you were lame. What else could I have
+said? Did you want me to stand there like a stuffed Egyptian mummy?
+That's the thanks a girl gets for trying to help a great, awkward,
+blundering butter-fingers! Oh, if you could just see yourself! The
+irresistible conqueror! Not altogether unprincipled though! You _are_
+capable of compunction. I'll give you credit for that. Alarmed at your
+easy success, you try to spare me. It is noble of you--noble! You drag
+me out here, force a quarrel upon me----"
+
+"Oh, by Jove now! Really!" Stung by the poignant injustice of crowding
+events, Jeff took the bit in his teeth and rushed to destruction.
+"Really, you must see yourself that I couldn't drag you out here! I have
+never been in that hall before. I didn't know the lay of the ground. I
+didn't even know that little side room was there. I thought you pressed
+my arm a little----" So the brainless colt, in the quicksands, flounders
+deeper with each effort to extricate himself.
+
+If Miss Hoffman had been angry before she was furious now.
+
+"So _that's_ the way of it? Better and better! _I_ dragged _you_ out!
+Really, Mr. Bransford, I feel that I should take you back to your
+chaperon at once. You might be compromised, you know!"
+
+Goaded to desperation, he acted on this hint at once. He turned, with
+stiff and stilted speech:
+
+"I will take you back to the window, Miss Hoffman. Then there is nothing
+for me to do but go. I am sorry to have caused you even a moment's
+annoyance. To-morrow you will see how you have twisted--I mean, how
+completely you have misinterpreted everything I have said. Perhaps some
+day you may forgive me. Here is the window. Good-night--good-by!"
+
+Miss Hoffman lingered, however.
+
+"Of course, if you apologize----"
+
+"I do, Miss Hoffman. I beg your pardon most sincerely for anything I
+have ever said or done that could hurt you in any way."
+
+"If you are sure you are sorry--if you take it all back and will never
+do such a thing again--perhaps I may forgive you."
+
+"I won't--I am--I will!" said the abject and groveling wretch. Which
+was incoherent but pleasing. "I didn't mean anything the way you took
+it; but I'm sorry for everything."
+
+"Then I didn't beguile you to come? Or mask as a Friend in the hope that
+you would identify me?"
+
+"No, no!"
+
+Miss Ellinor pressed her advantage cruelly. "Nor take stock of each new
+masker to see if he possibly wasn't the expected Mr. Bransford? Nor drag
+you into the garden? Nor squeeze your arm?" Her hands went to her face,
+her lissome body shook. "Oh, Mr. Bransford!" she sobbed between her
+fingers. "How could you--how _could_ you say that?"
+
+The clock chimed. A pealing voice beat out into the night: "Masks off!"
+A hundred voices swelled the cry; it was drowned in waves of laughter.
+It rose again tumultuously: "_Masks off! Masks off!_" Nearer came
+hateful voices, too, that cried: "_Ellinor! Ellinor! Where are you?_"
+
+"I must go!" said Jeff. "They'll be looking for you. No; you didn't do
+any of those things. You couldn't do any of those things. Good-by!"
+
+"_Ellinor! Ellinor Hoffman!! Where are you?_"
+
+Miss Hoffman whipped off her mask. From the open window a shaft of light
+fell on her face. It was flushed, sparkling, radiant. "Masks off!" she
+said. "Stupid!... Oh, you great goose! Of course I did!" She stepped
+back into the shadow.
+
+No one, as the copybook says justly, may be always wise. Conversely, the
+most unwise of us blunders sometimes upon the right thing to do. With a
+glimmer of returning intelligence Mr. Bransford laid his noseguard on
+the window-sill.
+
+"_Sir!_" said Ellinor then. "How dare you?" Then she turned the other
+cheek. "Good-by!" she whispered, and fled away to the ballroom.
+
+Mr. Bransford, in the shadows, scratched his head dubiously.
+
+"Her Christian name was Ellinor," he muttered. "Ellinor! H'm--Ellinor!
+Very appropriate name.... Very!... And I don't know yet where she
+lives!"
+
+He wandered disconsolately away to the garden wall, forgetting the
+discarded noseguard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE ISLE OF ARCADY
+
+     "Then the moon shone out so broad and good
+       That the barn-fowl crowed:
+     And the brown owl called to his mate in the wood
+       _That a dead man lay in the road_!"
+
+                         --WILL WALLACE HARNEY.
+
+
+Arcadia's assets were the railroad, two large modern sawmills, the
+climate and printer's ink. The railroad found it a patch of bare ground,
+six miles from water; put in successively a whistling-post, a signboard,
+a depot, townsite papers and a water-main from the Alamo; and, when the
+townsite papers were confirmed, established machine shops and made the
+new town the division headquarters and base for northward building.
+
+The railroad then set up the sawmills, primarily to get out ties and
+timbers for its own lanky growth, and built a spur to bring the forest
+down from Rainbow to the mills. The word "down" is used advisedly.
+Arcadia nestled on the plain under the very eavespouts of Rainbow Range.
+The branch, following with slavish fidelity the lines of a twisted
+corkscrew, took twenty-seven miles, mostly tunnel and trestlework, to
+clamber to the logging camps, with a minimum grade that was purely
+prohibitive and a maximum that I dare not state; but there was a rise of
+six thousand feet in those twenty-seven miles. You can figure the
+average for yourself. And if the engine should run off the track at the
+end of her climb she would light on the very roundhouse where she took
+breakfast, and spoil the shingles.
+
+Yes, that was some railroad. There was a summer hotel--Cloudland--on the
+summit, largely occupied by slackwire performers. Others walked up or
+rode a horse. They used stem-winding engines, with eight vertical
+cylinders on the right side and a shaft like a steamboat, with beveled
+cogwheel transmission on the axles. And they haven't had a wreck on that
+branch to date. No matter how late a train is, when an engine sees the
+tail-lights of her caboose ahead of her she stops and sends out flagmen.
+
+The railroad, under the pseudonym of the Arcadia Development Company,
+also laid out streets and laid in a network of pipe-lines, and staked
+out lots until the sawmill protested for lack of tie-lumber. It put down
+miles of cement walks, fringed them with cottonwood saplings, telephone
+poles and electric lights. It built a hotel and a few streets of
+party-colored cottages--directoire, with lingerie tile roofs, organdy
+façades and peplum, intersecting panels and outside chimneys at the
+gable ends. It decreed a park, with nooks, lanes, mazes, lake,
+swans, ballground, grandstand, bandstand and the band appertaining
+thereunto--all of which apparently came into being over night. Then it
+employed a competent staff of word-artists and capitalized the climate.
+
+The result was astonishing. The cottonwoods grew apace and a swift town
+grew with them--swift in every sense of the word. It took good money to
+buy good lots in Arcadia. People with money must be fed, served and
+amused by people wanting money. In three years the trees cast a pleasant
+shade and the company cast a balance, with gratifying results. They
+discounted the unearned increment for a generation to come.
+
+It was a beneficent scheme, selling ozone and novelty, sunshine and
+delight. The buyers got far more than the worth of their money, the
+company got their money--and every one was happy. Health and good
+spirits are a bargain at any price. There were sandstorms and hot days;
+but sand promotes digestion and digestion promotes cheerfulness. Heat
+merely enhanced the luxury of shaded hammocks. As an adventurer thawed
+out, he sent for seven others worse than himself. Arcadia became the
+metropolis of the county and, by special election, the county-seat.
+Courthouse, college and jail followed in quick succession.
+
+For the company, Arcadia life was one grand, sweet song, with, thus
+far, but a single discord. As has been said, Arcadia was laid out on the
+plain. There was higher ground on three sides--Rainbow Mountain to the
+east, the deltas of La Luz Creek and the Alamo to the north and south.
+New Mexico was dry, as a rule. After the second exception, when
+enthusiastic citizens went about on stilts to forward a project for
+changing the town's name to Venice, the company acknowledged its error
+handsomely. When dry land prevailed once more above the face of the
+waters, it built a mighty moat by way of the _amende honorable_--a moat
+with its one embankment on the inner side of the five-mile horseshoe
+about the town. This, with its attendant bridges, gave to Arcadia an
+aspect singularly medieval. It also furnished a convenient line of
+social demarcation. Chauffeurs, college professors, lawyers, gamblers,
+county officers, together with a few tradesmen and railroad officials,
+abode within "the Isle of Arcady," on more or less even terms with the
+Arcadians proper; millmen, railroaders, lumberjacks, and the underworld
+generally, dwelt without the pale.
+
+The company rubbed its lamp again--and behold! an armory, a hospital and
+a library! It contributed liberally to churches and campaign funds; it
+exercised a general supervision over morals and manners. For example, in
+the deed to every lot sold was an ironclad, fire-tested, automatic and
+highly constitutional forfeiture clause, to the effect that sale or
+storage on the premises of any malt, vinous or spirituous liquors should
+immediately cause the title to revert to the company. The company's own
+vicarious saloon, on Lot Number One, was a sumptuous and magnificent
+affair. It was known as The Mint.
+
+All this while we have been trying to reach the night watchman.
+
+In the early youth of Arcadia there came to her borders a warlock Finn,
+of ruddy countenance and solid build. He had a Finnish name, and they
+called him Lars Porsena.
+
+Lars P. had been a seafaring man. While spending a year's wage in San
+Francisco, he had wandered into Arcadia by accident. There, being unable
+to find the sea, he became a lumberjack--with a custom, when in spirits,
+of beating the watchman of that date into an omelet.
+
+The indulgence of this penchant gave occasion for much adverse
+criticism. Fine and imprisonment failed to deter him from this playful
+habit. One watchman tried to dissuade Lars from his foible with a club,
+and his successor even went so far as to shoot him--to shoot Lars P.,
+of course, not his predecessor--the successor's predecessor, not Lars
+Porsena's--if he ever had one, which he hadn't. (What we need is
+more pronouns.) He--the successor of the predecessor--resigned when
+Lars became convalescent; but Lars was no whit dismayed by this
+contretemps--in his first light-hearted moment he resumed his old
+amusement with unabated gayety.
+
+Thus was one of our greatest railroad systems subjected to embarrassment
+and annoyance by the idiosyncrasies of an ignorant but cheerful
+sailor-man. The railroad resolved to submit no longer to such caprice. A
+middleweight of renown was imported, who--when he was able to be about
+again--bitterly reproached the president and demanded a bonus on the
+ground that he had knocked Lars down several times before he--Lars--got
+angry; and also because of a disquisition in the Finnish tongue which
+Lars Porsena had emitted during the procedure--which address, the
+prizefighter stated, had unnerved him and so led to his undoing. It was
+obviously, he said, of a nature inconceivably insulting; the memory of
+it rankled yet, though he had heard only the beginning and did not get
+the--But let that pass.
+
+The thing became a scandal. Watchman succeeded watchman on the company
+payroll and the hospital list, until some one hit upon a happy and
+ingenious way to avoid this indignity. Lars Porsena was appointed
+watchman.
+
+This statesmanlike policy bore gratifying results. Lars Porsena
+straightway abandoned his absurd and indefensible custom, and no
+imitator arose. Also, Arcadia within the moat--the island--which was
+the limit of his jurisdiction, became the most orderly spot in New
+Mexico.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the first gray of dawn, Uncle Sam, whistling down Main Street on his
+way home from the masquerade, found Lars Porsena lying on his face in a
+pool of blood.
+
+The belated reveler knelt beside him. The watchman was shot, but still
+breathed. "Ho! Murder! Help! Murder!" shouted Uncle Sam. The alarm
+rolled crashing along the quiet street. Heads were thrust from windows;
+startled voices took up the outcry; other home-goers ran from every
+corner; hastily arrayed householders poured themselves from street
+doors.
+
+Lars Porsena was in disastrous plight. He breathed, but that was about
+all. He was shot through the body. A trail of blood led back a few doors
+to Lake's Bank. A window was cut out; the blood began at the sill.
+
+Messengers ran to telephone the doctor, the sheriff, Lake. The knot of
+men grew to a crowd. A rumor spread that there had been an unusual
+amount of currency in the bank over night--a rumor presently confirmed
+by Bassett, the bareheaded and white-faced cashier. It was near payday;
+in addition to the customary amount to cash checks for railroaders and
+millhands--itself no mean sum--and the money for regular business,
+there had been provision for contemplated loans to promoters of new
+local industries.
+
+The doctor came running, made a hasty examination, took emergency
+measures to stanch the freshly started blood, and swore whole-heartedly
+at the ambulance and the crowding Arcadians. He administered a
+stimulant. Lars Porsena fluttered his eyes weakly.
+
+"Stand back, you idiots! Bash these fools' faces in for 'em, some one!"
+said the medical man. He bent over the watchman. "Who did it, Lars?"
+
+Lars made a vain effort to speak. The doctor gave him another sip of
+restorative and took a pull himself.
+
+"Try again, old man. You're badly hurt and you may not get another
+chance. Did you know him?"
+
+Lars gathered all his strength to a broken speech:
+
+"No.... Bank ... Found window ... Midnight ... nearly.... Shot me....
+Didn't see him." He fell back on Uncle Sam's starry vest.
+
+"Ambulance coming," said Uncle Sam. "Will he live, doc?"
+
+Doc shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Poor chance. Lost too much blood. If he had been found in time he might
+have pulled through. Wonderful vitality. Ought to be dead now, by the
+books. Still, there's a chance."
+
+"I never thought," said Uncle Sam to Cyrano de Bergerac, as the
+ambulance bore away its unconscious burden, "that I would ever be so
+sorry at anything that could happen to Lars Porsena--after the way he
+made me stop singing on my own birthday. He was one grand old fighting
+machine!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+STATES-GENERAL
+
+     "And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay
+     And laid the wyte on Geordie."
+
+                         --_Old Ballad._
+
+
+That the master's eye is worth two servants had ever been Lake's
+favorite maxim. He had not yet gone to bed when the message reached him,
+where he kept his masterly eye on the proper closing up of the ballroom.
+He came through the crowd now, shouldering his way roughly, still in his
+police costume--helmet, tunic and belt. In his wake came the sheriff,
+who had just arrived, scorching to the scene on his trusty wheel.
+
+On the bank steps, Lake turned to face the crowd. His strong canine jaw
+was set to stubborn fighting lines; the helmet did not wholly hide the
+black frown or the swollen veins at his temple.
+
+"Come in, Thompson, and help the sheriff size the thing up--and you,
+Alec"--he stabbed the air at his choice with a strong blunt finger--"and
+Turnbull--you, Clarke--and you.... Bassett, you keep the door. Admit no
+one!"
+
+Lake was the local great man. Never had he appeared to such advantage to
+his admirers; never had his ascendency seemed so unquestioned and so
+justified. As he stood beside the sheriff in the growing light, the man
+was the incarnation of power--the power of wealth, position, prestige,
+success. In this moment of yet unplumbed disaster, taken by surprise,
+summoned from a night of crowded pleasure, he held his mastery, chose
+his men and measures with unhesitant decision--planned, ordered, kept to
+that blunt direct speech of his that wasted no word. A buzz went up from
+the unadmitted as the door swung shut behind him.
+
+Lake had chosen well. Arcadia in epitome was within those pillaged
+walls. Thompson was president of the rival bank. Alec was division
+superintendent. Turnbull was the mill-master. Clarke was editor of the
+_Arcadian Day_. Clarke had been early to the storm-center; yet, of all
+the investigators, Clarke alone was not more or less disheveled. He was
+faultlessly appareled--even to the long Prince Albert and black string
+tie--in which, indeed, report said, he slept.
+
+So much for capital, industry and the fourth estate. The last of the
+probers, whom Lake had drafted merely by the slighting personal pronoun
+"you," was nevertheless identifiable in private life by the name of
+Billy White--being, indeed, none other than our old friend the devil.
+His indigenous mustache still retained a Mephistophelian twist; he was
+becomingly arrayed in slippers, pajamas and a pink bathrobe, girdled at
+the waist with a most unhermitlike cord, having gone early and surly to
+bed. In this improvised committee he fitly represented Society: while
+the sheriff represented society at large and, ex officio, that
+incautious portion under duress. Yet one element was unrepresented; for
+Lake made a mistake which other great men have made--of failing to
+reckon with the masterless men, who dwell without the wall.
+
+Lake led the way.
+
+"Will the watchman die, Alec, d'you think?" whispered Billy, as they
+filed through the grilled door to the counting room.
+
+"Don't know. Hope not. Game old rooster. Good watchman, too," said
+Turnbull, the mill-superintendent.
+
+Lake turned on the lights. The wall-safe was blown open; fragments of
+the door were scattered among the overturned chairs.
+
+In an open recess in the vault there was a dull yellow mass; the
+explosion had spilled the front rows of coin to a golden heap. Behind,
+some golden rouleaus were intact: others tottered precariously, as you
+have perhaps seen beautiful tall stacks of colored counters do. Gold
+pieces were strewn along the floor.
+
+"Thank God, they didn't get all the gold anyhow!" said Lake, with a sigh
+of relief. "Then, of course, they didn't touch the silver; but there
+was a lot of greenbacks--over twenty-five thousand, I think. Bassett
+will know. And I don't know how much gold is gone. Look round and see if
+they left anything incriminating, sheriff, anything that we can trace
+them by."
+
+"He heard poor old Lars coming," said the sheriff. "Then, after he shot
+him, he hadn't the nerve to come back for the gold. This strikes me as
+being a bungler's job. Must have used an awful lot of dynamite to tear
+that door up like that! Funny no one heard the explosion. Can't be much
+of your gold gone, Lake. That compartment is pretty nearly as full as it
+will hold."
+
+"Or heard him shoot our watchman," suggested Thompson. "Still, I don't
+know. There's blasting going on in the hills all the time and almost
+every one was at the masquerade or else asleep. How many times did they
+shoot old Lars--does anybody know? Is there any idea what time it was
+done?"
+
+"He was shot once--right here," said Alec, indicating the spot on the
+flowered silk that had been part of his mandarin's dress. "Gun was held
+so close it burnt his shirt. Awful hole. Don't believe the old chap'll
+make it. He crawled along toward the telephone station till he dropped.
+Say! Central must have heard that shot! It's only two blocks away. She
+ought to be able to tell what time it was."
+
+"Lars said it was just before midnight," said Clarke.
+
+"Oh!--did he speak?" asked Lake. "How many robbers were there? Did he
+know any of them?"
+
+"He didn't see anybody--shot just as he reached the window. Hope some
+one hangs for this!" said Clarke. "Lake, I wish you'd have this money
+picked up--I'm not used to walking on gold--or else have me watched."
+
+Lake shook his head, angry at the untimely pleasantry. It was a
+pleasantry in effect only, put forward to hide uneditorial agitation and
+distress for Lars Porsena. Lake's undershot jaw thrust forward; he
+fingered the blot of whisker at his ear. It was a time for action, not
+for talk. He began his campaign.
+
+"Look here, sheriff! You ought to wire up and down the line to keep a
+lookout. Hold all suspicious characters. Then get a posse to ride for
+some sign round the town. If we only had something to go on--some clue!
+Later we'll look through this town with a finetooth comb. Most likely
+they--or he, if there was only one--won't risk staying here. First of
+all, I've got to telegraph to El Paso for money to stave off a run on
+the bank. You'll help me, Thompson? Of course my burglar insurance will
+make good my loss--or most of it; but that'll take time. We mustn't risk
+a run. People lose their heads so. I'll give you a statement for the
+_Day_, Clarke, as soon as I find out where Mr. Thompson stands."
+
+"I will back you up, sir. With the bulk of depositors' money loaned out,
+no bank, however solvent, can withstand a continued run without backing.
+I shall be glad to tide you over if only for my own protection. A panic
+is contagious----"
+
+"Thanks," said Lake shortly, interrupting this stately financial
+discourse. "Then we shall do nicely.... Let's see--to-morrow's payday.
+You fellows"--he turned briskly to the two superintendents--"can't you
+hold up your payday, say, until Saturday? Stand your men off. The
+company stands good for their money. They can wait a while."
+
+"No need to do that," said Alec. "I'll have the railroad checks drawn on
+St. Louis. The storekeepers'll cash 'em. If necessary I'll wire for
+authority to let Turnbull pay off the millhands with railroad checks.
+It's just taking money from one pocket to put it in the other, anyhow."
+
+"Then that's all right! Now for the robbers!" The banker's face betrayed
+impatience. "My first duty was to protect my clients; but now we'll
+waste no more time. You gentlemen make a close search for any possible
+scrap of evidence while the sheriff and I write our telegrams. I must
+wire the burglar insurance company, too." He plunged a pen into an
+inkwell and fell to work.
+
+Acting upon this hint, the sheriff took a desk. "Wish Phillips was
+here--my deputy," he sighed. "I've sent for him. He's got a better head
+than I have for noticing clues and things." This was eminently correct
+as well as modest. The sheriff was a Simon-pure Arcadian, the company's
+nominee; his deputy was a concession to the disgruntled Hinterland,
+where the unobservant rarely reach maturity.
+
+"Oh, Alec!" said Lake over his shoulder, "you sit down, too, and wire
+all your conductors about their passengers last night. Yes, and the
+freight crews, too. We'll rush those through first. And can't you scare
+up another operator?" His pen scratched steadily over the paper. "More
+apt to be some of our local outlaws, though. In that case it will be
+easier to find their trail. They'll probably be on horseback."
+
+"You were an--old-timer yourself, were you not?" asked Billy amiably.
+"If the robbers are frontiersmen they may be easier to get track of, as
+you suggest; but won't they be harder to get?" Billy spoke languidly.
+The others were searching assiduously for "clues" in the most approved
+manner, but Billy sprawled easily in a chair.
+
+"We'll get 'em if we can find out who they were," snapped Lake, setting
+his strong jaw. He did not particularly like Billy--especially since
+their late trip to Rainbow. "There never was a man yet so good but
+there was one just a little better."
+
+"By a good man, in this connection, you mean a bad man, I presume?" said
+Billy in a meditative drawl. "Were you a good man before you became a
+banker?"
+
+"Look here! What's this?" The interruption came from Clarke. He pounced
+down between two fragments of the safe door and brought up an object
+which he held to the light.
+
+At the startled tones, Lake spun round in his swivel-chair. He held out
+his hand.
+
+"Really, I don't think I ever saw anything like this thing before," he
+said. "Any of you know what it is?"
+
+"It's a noseguard," said Billy. Billy was a college man and had worn a
+nosepiece himself. He frowned unconsciously, remembering his successful
+rival of the masquerade.
+
+"A noseguard? What for?"
+
+"You wear it to protect your nose and teeth when playing football,"
+explained Billy. "Keeps you from swearing, too. You hold this piece
+between your teeth; the other part goes over your nose, up between your
+eyes and fastens with this band around your forehead."
+
+"Why! Why!" gasped Clarke, "there was a man at the masquerade togged out
+as a football player!"
+
+"I saw him," said Alec. "And he wore one of these things. I saw him
+talking to Topsy."
+
+"One of my guests?" demanded Lake scoffingly. "Oh, nonsense! Some young
+fellow has been in here yesterday, talking to the clerks, and dropped
+it. Who went as a football player, White? You know all these college
+boys. Know anything about this one?"
+
+"Not a thing." There Billy lied--a prompt and loyal gentleman--reasoning
+that Buttinski, as he mentally styled the interloper who had
+misappropriated the Quaker lady, would have cared nothing at that time
+for a paltry thirty thousand. Thus was he guilty of a practice against
+which we are all vainly warned--of judging others by ourselves. Billy
+remembered very distinctly that Miss Ellinor had not reappeared until
+the midnight unmasking, and he therefore acquitted her companion of this
+particular crime, entirely without prejudice to Buttinski's felonious
+instincts in general. For the watchman had been shot before midnight.
+Billy made a tentative mental decision that this famous noseguard had
+been brought to the bank later and left there purposely; and resolved to
+keep his eye open.
+
+"Oh, well, it's no great difference anyhow," said Lake. "Whoever it was
+dropped it here yesterday, I guess, and got another one for the
+masquerade."
+
+"Hold on there!" said Clarke, holding the spotlight tenaciously. "That
+don't go! This thing was on top of one of those pieces of the safe!"
+
+For the first time Lake was startled from his iron composure.
+
+"Are you sure?" he demanded, jumping up.
+
+"Sure! It was right here against the sloping side of this piece--so."
+
+"That puts a different light on the case, gentlemen," said Lake. "Luck
+is with us; and----"
+
+"And, while I think of it," said Clarke, making the most of his
+unexpected opportunity, "I made notes of all the costumes and their
+wearers after the masks were off--for the paper, you know--and I saw no
+football player there. I remember that distinctly."
+
+"I only saw him the one time," confirmed Alec, "and I stayed almost to
+the break-up. Whoever it was, he left early."
+
+"But what possible motive could the robber have for going to the dance
+at all?" queried Lake in perplexity.
+
+"Maybe he made his appearance there in a football suit purposely, so as
+to leave us some one to hunt for, and then committed the robbery and
+went back in another costume," suggested Clarke, pleased and not a
+little surprised at his own ingenuity. "In that case, he would have left
+this rubber thing here of design."
+
+"H'm!" Lake was plainly struck with this theory. "And that's not such a
+bad idea, either! We'll look into this football matter after breakfast.
+You'll go to the hotel with me, gentlemen? Our womankind are all asleep
+after the ball. The sheriff will send some one to guard the bank.
+Meantime I'll call the cashier in and find out exactly how much money
+we're short. Send Bassett in, will you, Billy? You stay at the door and
+keep that mob out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ARCADES AMBO
+
+     "What means this, my lord?"
+     "Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief."
+
+                         --_Hamlet._
+
+     "We are here to do what service we may, for honor and not for
+     hire."--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
+
+
+With Billy went the sheriff and Alec, the latter with a sheaf of
+telegrams.
+
+"Now ... how did Buttinski's noseguard get into this bank? That's what
+I'd like to know," said Billy to the doorknob, when the other
+committeemen had gone their ways. "I didn't bring it. I don't believe
+Buttinski did.... And Policeman Lake certainly saw us quarreling. He
+noticed the football player, right enough,--and he pretends he didn't.
+Why--why--why does Policeman Lake pretend he didn't see that football
+player? Echo answers--why?... Denmark's all putrefied!"
+
+The low sun cleared the housetops. The level rays fell along the
+window-sill; and Billy, staring fascinated at the single blotch of dried
+blood on the inner sill, saw something glitter and sparkle there beside
+it. He went closer. It was a dust of finely powdered glass. Billy
+whistled.
+
+A light foot ran up the steps. There was a rap at the door.
+
+"No entrance except on business. No business transacted here!" quoted
+Billy, startled from a deep study. A head appeared at the window. "Oh,
+it's you, Jimmy? That's different. Come in!"
+
+It was Jimmy Phillips, the chief deputy. Billy knew him and liked him.
+He unbarred the door.
+
+"Well, anything turned up yet?" demanded Jimmy. "I stopped in to see
+Lars. Him and me was old side partners."
+
+"How's he making it, Jimmy?"
+
+"Oh, doc said he had one chance in ten thousand; so he's all right, I
+guess," responded that brisk optimist. "They got any theory about the
+robber?"
+
+"They have that. A perfectly sound theory, too--only it isn't true,"
+said Billy in a low and guarded tone. "They'll tell you. I haven't got
+time. See here--if I give you the straight tip will you work it up and
+keep your head closed until you see which way the cat jumps? Can you
+keep it to yourself?"
+
+"Mum as a sack of clams!" said Jimmy.
+
+"Look at this a minute!" Billy pointed to the tiny particles of glass on
+the inner sill. "Got that? Then I'll dust it off. This is a case for
+your gummiest shoes. Now look at this!" He indicated the opening where
+the patch of glass had been cut from the big pane. Jimmy rubbed his
+finger very cautiously along the raw edge of the glass.
+
+"Cut out from the inside--then carried out there? A frame-up?"
+
+"Exactly. But I don't want anybody else to size it up for a
+frame-up--not now."
+
+"But," said Jimmy good-naturedly, "I'd 'a' seen all that myself after a
+little if you hadn't 'a' showed me."
+
+"Yes," said Billy dryly; "and then told somebody! That's why I brushed
+the glass-dust off. I've got inside information--some that I'm going to
+share with you and some that I am not going to tell even you!"
+
+"Trot it out!"
+
+"Lake had the key of this front door in the policeman's uniform that he
+wore to the dance. Isn't that queer? If I were you I'd very quietly find
+out whether he went home to get that key after he got word that the bank
+was robbed. He was still in the ballroom when he got the message."
+
+"You think it's a put-up job? Why?"
+
+"There is something not just right about the man Lake. His mind is too
+ballbearing altogether. He herds those chumps in there round like so
+many sheep. He used 'em to make discoveries with and then showed 'em how
+to force 'em on him. Oh, they made a heap of progress! They've got
+evidence enough up in there to hang John the Baptist, with Lake all the
+time setting back in the breeching like a balky horse. It's Lake's bank,
+and the bank's got burglar insurance. Got that? If he gets the money and
+the insurance, too--see? And I happen to know he has been bucking the
+market. I dropped a roll with him myself. Then there's r-r-revenge!--as
+they say on the stage--and something else beside. Has Lake any bitter
+enemies?"
+
+"Oodles of 'em!"
+
+"But one worse than the others--one he hates most?"
+
+Jimmy thought for a while. Then he nodded.
+
+"Jeff Bransford, I reckon."
+
+"Is he in town?"
+
+"Not that I know of."
+
+"Well, I never heard of your Mr. Bransford; but he's in town all right,
+all right! You'll see! Lake's got a case cooked up that'll hang some one
+higher than Haman; and I'll bet the first six years of my life against a
+Doctor Cook lecture ticket that the first letter of some one's name is
+Jeff Bransford."
+
+"Maybe Jeff can prove he was somewhere else?" suggested Jimmy.
+
+Billy evaded the issue.
+
+"What sort of a man is this Bransford? Any good? Besides being an enemy
+of Lake's, I mean?"
+
+"Mr. Bransford is one whom we all delight to humor," announced the
+deputy, after some reflection.
+
+"Friend of yours?"
+
+Jimmy reflected again.
+
+"We-ll--yes!" he said. "He limps a little in cold weather, and I got a
+little small ditch plowed in my skull--but our horses was both young and
+wild, and the boys rode in between us before there was any harm done. I
+pulled him out of the Pecos since that, too, and poured some several
+barrels of water out o' him. Yes, we're good friends, I reckon."
+
+"He'll shoot back on proper occasion, then? A good sport? Stand the
+gaff?"
+
+"On proper occasion," rejoined Jimmy, "the other man will shoot back--if
+he's lucky. Yes, sir, Jeff's certainly one dead game sport at any turn
+in the road."
+
+"Considering the source and spirit of your information, you sadden me,"
+said Billy. "The better man he is, the better chance to hang. Has he got
+any close friends here?"
+
+"He seldom ever comes here," said Jimmy. "All his friends is on Rainbow,
+specially South Rainbow; but his particular side partners is all away
+just now; leastways, all but one."
+
+"Can't you write to that one?"
+
+The deputy grinned hugely.
+
+"And tell him to come break Jeff out o' jail?" said he. "That don't seem
+hardly right, considerin'. You write to him--Johnny Dines, Morningside.
+You might wire up to Cloudland and have it forwarded from there. I'll
+pay."
+
+Billy made a note of it.
+
+"They'll be out here in a jiffy now," he said. "Now, Jimmy, you listen
+to all they tell you; follow it up; make no comments; don't see anything
+and don't miss anything. Let Lake think he's having it all his own way
+and he'll make some kind of a break that will give him away. We haven't
+got a thing against him yet except the right guess. And you be careful
+to catch your friend without a fight. When you get him I want you to
+give him a message from me; but don't mention any name. Tell him to keep
+a stiff upper lip--that the devil takes care of his own. Say the devil
+told you himself--in person. I don't want to show my hand. I'm on the
+other side--see? That way I can be in Lake's counsels--force myself in,
+if necessary, after this morning."
+
+"You think that if you give Lake rope enough----"
+
+"Exactly. Here they come--I hear their chairs."
+
+"Blonde or brunette?" said Jimmy casually.
+
+"Eh? What's that?"
+
+"The something else that you wouldn't tell me about," Jimmy explained.
+"Is she blonde or brunette?"
+
+"Oh, go to hell!" said Billy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+TAKEN
+
+     "Lord Huntley then he did speak out--
+       O, fair mot fa' his body!--
+     'I here will fight doublet alane
+       Or ony thing ails Geordie!
+
+     "'Whom has he robbed? What has he stole?
+       Or has he killed ony?
+     Or what's the crime that he has done
+       His foes they are so mony?'"
+
+                         --_Old Ballad._
+
+
+Hue and cry, hubbub and mystery, swept the Isle of Arcady that morning,
+but the most painstaking search and query proved fruitless. It developed
+beyond doubt that the football man had not been seen since his one brief
+appearance on the ballroom floor. Search was transferred to the
+mainland, where, as it neared noon, Lake's perseverance and thoroughness
+were rewarded. In Chihuahua suburb, beyond the north wall, Lake noted a
+sweat-marked, red-roan horse in the yard of Rosalio Marquez, better
+known, by reason of his profession, as Monte.
+
+Straightway the banker reported this possible clue to the sheriff and to
+Billy, who was as tireless and determined in the chase as Lake himself.
+The other masqueraders had mostly abandoned the chase. He found them on
+the bridge of the La Luz sallyport.
+
+"It may be worth looking into," Lake advised the sheriff. "Better send
+some one to reconnoiter--some one not known to be connected with your
+office. You go, Billy. If you find anything suspicious the sheriff can
+'phone to the hospital if he needs me. I'm going over to see how the old
+watchman is--ought to have gone before. If he gets well I must do
+something handsome for him."
+
+Billy fell in with this request. He had a well-founded confidence in
+Lake's luck and attached much more significance to the trifling matter
+of the red-roan horse than did the original discoverer--especially since
+the discoverer had bethought himself to go to the hospital on an errand
+of mercy. Billy now confidently expected early developments. And he
+preferred personally to conduct the arrest, so that he might interfere,
+if necessary, to prevent any wasting of good cartridges. He did not
+expect much trouble, however, providing the affair was conducted
+tactfully; reasoning that a dead game sport with a clean conscience and
+a light heart would not seriously object to a small arrest. Poor Billy's
+own heart was none of the lightest as he went on this loyal service to
+his presumably favored rival.
+
+Bicycle-back, he accompanied the sheriff beyond the outworks to the
+Mexican quarter. Near the place indicated by the banker Billy left his
+wheel and strolled casually round the block. He saw the red-roan steed
+and noted the Double Rainbow branded on his thigh.
+
+Monte was leaning in the adobe doorway, rolling a cigarette. Billy knew
+him, in a business way.
+
+"Hello, Monte! Good horse you've got there."
+
+"Yais--tha's nice hor-rse," said Monte.
+
+"Want to sell him?"
+
+"Thees ees not my hor-rse," explained Monte. "He ees of a frien'."
+
+"I like his looks," said Billy. "Is your friend here? Or, if he's
+downtown, what's his name? I'd like to buy that horse."
+
+"He ees weetheen, but he ees not apparent. He ees
+_dormiendo_--ah--yais--esleepin'. He was las' night to the _baile
+mascarada_."
+
+Billy nodded. "Yes; I was there myself." He decided to take a risk:
+assuming that his calculations were correct, _x_ must equal Bransford.
+So he said carelessly: "Let's see, Bransford went as a sailor, didn't
+he? _Un marinero?_"
+
+"Oh, no; he was atir-re' lak one--_que cosa_?--what you call thees
+theeng?--_un balon para jugar con los pies_? Ah! si, si!--one feetball!
+Myself I come soon back. I have no beesness. The bes' people ees all for
+the dance," said Monte, with hand turned up and shrugging shoulder.
+"So, _media noche_--twelve of the clock, I am here back. I fin' here the
+hor-rse of my frien', and one _carta_--letter--that I am not to lock the
+door; _porque_ he may come to esleep. So I am mek to r-repose myself.
+Later I am ar-rouse when my frien' am to r-retir-re heemself. Ah, _que
+hombre_! I am yet to esmile to see heem in thees so r-redeeculous
+_vestidos_! He ees ver' gay. Ah! _que_ Jeff! Een all ways thees ees a
+man ver' _sufficiente_, cour-rageous, es-trong, formidabble! Yet he ees
+keep the _disposicion_, the hear-rt, of a seemple leetle chil'--_un
+muchacho_!"
+
+"I'll come again," said Billy, and passed on. He had found out what he
+had come for. The absence of concealment dispelled any lingering doubt
+of Jeff Buttinski. Yet he could establish no alibi by Monte.
+
+Perhaps Billy White may require here a little explanation. All things
+considered, Billy thought Jeff would be better off in jail, with a
+friend in the opposite camp working for his interest, than getting
+himself foolishly killed by a hasty posse. If we are cynical, we may say
+that, being young, Billy was not averse to the rôle of _deus ex
+machina_; perhaps a thought of friendly gratitude was not lacking. Then,
+too, adventure for adventure's sake is motive enough--in youth. Or, as a
+final self-revelation, we may hint that if Jeff was a rival, so too was
+Lake--and one more eligible. Let us not be cynical, however, or
+cowardly. Let us say at once shamelessly what we very well know--that
+youth is the season for clean honor and high emprise; that boy's love is
+best and truest of all; that poor, honest Billy, in his own dogged and
+fantastic way, but sought to give true service where he--loved. There,
+we have said it; and we are shamed. How old are you, sir? Forty? Fifty?
+Most actions are the result of mixed motives, you say? Well, that is a
+notable concession--at your age. Let it go at that. Billy, then, acted
+from mixed motives.
+
+When Billy brought back his motives--and the sheriff--Monte still held
+his negligent attitude in the doorway. He waved a graceful salute.
+
+"I want to see Bransford," said the sheriff.
+
+"He ees esleepin'," said Monte.
+
+"Well, I want to see him anyway!" The sheriff laid a brusk hand on the
+gatelatch.
+
+Monte waved his cigarette airily, flicked the ash from the end with a
+slender finger, and once more demonstrated that the hand is quicker than
+the eye. The portentously steady gun in the hand was the first
+intimation to the eye that the hand had moved at all. It was a very
+large gun as to caliber, the sheriff noted. As it was pointed directly
+at his nose he was favorably situated to observe--looking along the
+barrel--that the hammer stood at full cock.
+
+"Per-rhaps you have some papers for heem?" suggested Monte, with gentle
+and delicate deference. He still leaned against the doorjamb. "But eef
+not eet ees bes' that you do not enter thees my leetle house to
+distur-rb my gues'. That would be to commeet a r-rudeness--no?"
+
+The sheriff was a sufficiently brave man, if not precisely a brilliant
+one. Yet he showed now intelligence of the highest order. He dropped the
+latch.
+
+"You Billy, stop your laughing! Do you know, Mr. Monte, I think you are
+quite right?" he observed, with a smiling politeness equal to Monte's
+own. "That would be rude, certainly. My mistake. An Englishman's house
+is his castle--that sort of thing? If you will excuse me now we will go
+and get the papers, as you so kindly pointed out."
+
+They went away, the sheriff, Billy and motives--Billy still laughing
+immoderately.
+
+Monte went inside and stirred up his guest with a prodding boot-toe.
+
+"Meester Jeff," he demanded, "what you been a-doin' now?"
+
+Jeff sat up, rumpled his hair, and rubbed his eyes.
+
+"Sleepin'," he said.
+
+"An' before? _Porque_, the sheriff he has been. To mek an arres' of you,
+I t'eenk."
+
+"Me?" said Jeff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't done
+anything that I can remember now!"
+
+"Sure? No small leetle cr-rime? Not las' night? Me, I jus' got up. I
+have not hear'."
+
+Jeff considered this suggestion carefully. "No. I am sure. Not for
+years. Some mistake, I guess. Or maybe he just wanted to see me about
+something else. Why didn't he come in?"
+
+"I mek r-reques' of heem that he do not," said Monte.
+
+"I see," Jeff laughed. "Come on; we'll go see him. You don't want to get
+into trouble."
+
+They crossed the bridge and met the sheriff just within the
+fortifications, returning in a crowded automobile. Jeff held up his
+hand. The machine stopped and the posse deployed--except Billy, who
+acted as chauffeur.
+
+"You wanted to see me, sheriff--at the hotel?"
+
+"Why, yes, if you don't mind," said the sheriff.
+
+"Good dinner? I ain't had breakfast yet!"
+
+"First-class," said the sheriff cordially. "Won't your friend come too?"
+
+"Ah, señor, you eshame me that I am not so hospitabble, ees eet not?"
+purred Monte, as he followed Jeff into the tonneau.
+
+The sheriff reddened and Billy choked.
+
+"Nothing of the sort," said the sheriff hastily, lapsing into
+literalness. "You were quite within your rights. For that matter, I
+know you were at your own bank, dealing, when the crime was committed. I
+am holding you for the present as a possible accessory; and, if not,
+then as a material witness. By the way, Monte, would you mind if I sent
+some men to look through your place? There is a matter of some thirty
+thousand dollars missing. Lake asked us to look for it. I have papers
+for it if you care to see them."
+
+"Oh, no, señor!" said Monte. He handed over a key. "_La casa es suyo!_"
+
+"Thank you," said the sheriff, with unmoved gravity. "Anything of yours
+you want 'em to bring, Bransford?"
+
+"Why, no," said Jeff cheerfully. "I've got nothing there but my saddle,
+my gun and an old football suit that belongs to 'Gene Baird, over on the
+West Side; but if you want me to stay long, I wish you'd look after my
+horse."
+
+"I too have lef' there my gun that I keep to protec' my leetle house,"
+observed Monte. "Tell some one to keep eet for me. I am much attach' to
+that gun."
+
+"Why, yes, I have seen that gun, I think," said the sheriff. "They'll
+look out for it. All right, Billy!"
+
+The car turned back.
+
+"Oh--you were speaking about Monte being an accessory. I didn't get in
+till 'way late last night, and I've been asleep all day," said Jeff
+apologetically. "Might I ask before or after exactly what fact Monte
+was an accessory?"
+
+"Bank robbery, for one thing."
+
+"Ah!... That would be Lake's bank? Anything else?"
+
+The sheriff was not a patient man and he had borne much; also, he liked
+Lars Porsena. Perfection, even in trifles, is rare and wins affection.
+He turned on Jeff, with an angry growl.
+
+"Murder!"
+
+"Lake?" murmured Jeff hopefully.
+
+The sheriff continued, ignoring and, indeed, only half sensing the
+purport of Jeff's comment:
+
+"At least, the wound may not be mortal."
+
+"That's too bad," said Jeff. He was, if possible, more cheerful than
+ever.
+
+The sheriff glared at him. Billy, from the front seat, threw a word of
+explanation over his shoulder. "It's not Lake. The watchman."
+
+"Oh, old Lars Porsena? That's different. Not a bad sort, Lars. Maybe
+he'll get well. Hope so.... And I shot him? Dear me! When did it
+happen?"
+
+"You'll find out soon enough!" said the sheriff grimly. "Your
+preliminary's right away."
+
+"Hell, I haven't had breakfast yet!" Jeff protested. "Feed us first or
+we won't be tried at all."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Within the jail, while the sheriff spoke with his warder, it occurred to
+Billy that, since Jimmy Phillips was not to be seen, he might as well
+carry his own friendly message. So he said guardedly:
+
+"Buck up, old man! Keep a stiff upper lip and be careful what you say.
+This is only your preliminary trial, remember. Lots of things may happen
+before court sets. The devil looks after his own, you know."
+
+Jeff had a good ear for voices, however, and Billy's mustache still kept
+more than a hint of Mephistopheles. Jeff slowly surveyed Billy's natty
+attire, with a lingering and insulting interest for such evidences of
+prosperity as silken hosiery and a rather fervid scarfpin. At last his
+eye met Billy's, and Billy was blushing.
+
+"Does he?" drawled Jeff languidly. "Ah!... You own the car, then?"
+
+Poor Billy!
+
+Notwithstanding the ingratitude of this rebuff, Billy sought out Jimmy
+Phillips and recounted to him the circumstances of the arrest.
+
+"Oh, naughty, naughty!" said the deputy, caressing his nose. "Lake's
+been a cowman on Rainbow. He knew the brand on that horse; he knew Jeff
+was chummy with Monte. He knew in all reason that Jeff was in there, and
+most likely he knew it all the time. So he sneaks off to see
+Lars--after shooting him from ambush, damn him!--and sends you to take
+Jeff. Looks like he might be willing for you and Jeff to damage either,
+which or both of yourselves, as the case may be."
+
+"It looks so," said Billy.
+
+"Must be a fine girl!" murmured Jimmy absently. "Well, what are you
+going to do? It looks pretty plain."
+
+"It looks plain to us--but we haven't got a single tangible thing
+against Lake yet. We'd be laughed out of court if we brought an
+accusation against him. We'll have to wait and keep our eyes open."
+
+"You're sure Lake did it? There was no rubber nosepiece at Monte's
+house. All the rest of the football outfit--but not that. That looks bad
+for Jeff."
+
+"On the contrary, that is the strongest link against Lake. I dare say
+Buttinski--Mr. Bransford--is eminently capable of bank robbery at odd
+moments; but I know approximately where that noseguard was at sharp
+midnight--after the watchman was shot." Here Billy swore mentally,
+having a very definite guess as to how Jeff might have lost the
+noseguard. "Lake, Clarke, Turnbull, Thompson, Alec or myself--one of the
+six of us--brought that noseguard to the bank after the robbery, and
+only one of the six had a motive--and a key."
+
+"Only one of you had a key," corrected Jimmy cruelly. "But can't Jeff
+prove where he was, maybe?"
+
+"He won't."
+
+"I'd sure like to see her," said Jimmy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE ALIBI
+
+     "And all love's clanging trumpets shocked and blew."
+
+     "The executioner's argument was, that you couldn't cut off a
+     head unless there was a body to cut it off from; that he had
+     never had to do such a thing before, and he wasn't going to
+     begin at _his_ time of life."--_Alice in Wonderland._
+
+
+The justice of the peace, when the county court was not in session, held
+hearings in the courtroom proper, which occupied the entire second story
+of the county courthouse. The room was crowded. It was a new courthouse;
+there are people impatient to try even a new hearse; and this bade fair
+to be Arcadia's first _cause célèbre_.
+
+Jeff sat in the prisoner's stall, a target for boring eyes. He was
+conscious of an undesirable situation; exactly how tight a place it was
+he had no means of knowing until he should have heard the evidence. The
+room was plainly hostile; black looks were cast upon him. Deputy
+Phillips, as he entered arm in arm with the sometime devil, gave the
+prisoner an intent but non-committal look, which Jeff rightly
+interpreted as assurance of a friend in ambush; he felt unaccountably
+sure of the devil's fraternal aid; Monte, lolling within the rail of
+the witness-box, smiled across at him. Still, he would have felt better
+for another friendly face or two, he thought--say, John Wesley
+Pringle's.
+
+Jeff looked from the open window. Cottonwoods, well watered, give
+swiftest growth of any trees and are therefore the dominant feature of
+new communities in dry lands. The courthouse yard was crowded with them:
+Jeff, from the window, could see nothing but their green plumes; and his
+thoughts ran naturally upon gardens--or, to be more accurate, upon a
+garden.
+
+Would she lose faith in him? Had she heard yet? Would he be able to
+clear himself? No mere acquittal would do. Because of Ellinor, there
+must be no question, no verdict of Not Proven. She would go East
+to-morrow. Perhaps she would not hear of his arrest at all. He hoped
+not. The bank robbery, the murder--yes, she would hear of them, perhaps;
+but why need she hear his name? Hers was a world so different! He fell
+into a muse at this.
+
+Deputy Phillips passed and stood close to him, looking down from the
+window. His back was to Jeff; but, under cover of the confused hum of
+many voices, he spake low from the corner of his mouth:
+
+"Play your hand close to your bosom, old-timer! Wait for the draw and
+watch the dealer!" He strolled over to the other side of the judicial
+bench whence he came.
+
+This vulgar speech betrayed Jimmy as one given to evil courses; but to
+Jeff that muttered warning was welcome as thunder of Blücher's squadrons
+to British squares at Waterloo.
+
+Down the aisle came a procession consciously important--the prosecuting
+attorney; the bank's lawyer, who was to assist, "for the people"; and
+Lake himself. As they passed the gate Jeff smiled his sweetest.
+
+"Hello, Wally!" Lake's name was Stephen Walter.
+
+Wally made no verbal response; but his undershot jaw did the steel-trap
+act and there was a triumphant glitter in his eye. He turned his broad
+back pointedly--and Jeff smiled again.
+
+The justice took his seat on the raised dais intervening between
+Jeff and the sheriff's desk. Court was opened. The usual tedious
+preliminaries followed. Jeff waived a jury trial, refused a lawyer
+and announced that he would call no witnesses at present.
+
+In an impressive stillness the prosecutor rose for his opening
+statement. Condensed, it recounted the history of the crime, so far as
+known; fixed the time by the watchman's statement--to be confirmed, he
+said, by another witness, the telephone girl on duty at that hour, who
+had heard the explosion and the ensuing gunshot; touched upon that
+watchman's faithful service and his present desperate condition. He told
+of the late finding of the injured man, the meeting in the bank, the sum
+taken by the robber, and the discovery in the bank of the rubber
+nosepiece, which he submitted as Exhibit A. He cited the witnesses by
+whom he would prove each statement, and laid special stress upon the
+fact that the witness Clarke would testify that the nosepiece had been
+found upon the shattered fragments of the safe door--conclusive proof
+that it had been dropped after the crime. And he then held forth at some
+length upon the hand of Providence, as manifested in the unconscious
+self-betrayal which had frustrated and brought to naught the prisoner's
+fiendish designs. On the whole, he spoke well of Providence.
+
+Now Jeff had not once thought of the discarded noseguard since he first
+found it in his way; he began to see how tightly the net was drawn round
+him. "There was a serpent in the garden," he reflected. A word from Miss
+Hoffman would set him free. If she gave that word at once, it would be
+unpleasant for her: but if she gave it later, as a last resort, it would
+be more than unpleasant. And in that same hurried moment, Jeff knew that
+he would not call upon her for that word. All his crowded life, he had
+kept the happy knack of falling on his feet: the stars, that fought in
+their courses against Sisera, had ever fought for reckless Bransford.
+He decided, with lovable folly, to trust to chance, to his wits and to
+his friends.
+
+"And now, Your Honor, we come to the unbreakable chain of evidence which
+fatally links the prisoner at the bar to this crime. We will prove that
+the prisoner was not invited to the masquerade ball given last night by
+Mr. Lake. We will prove----"
+
+There was a stir in the courtroom; the prosecutor paused, disconcerted.
+Eyes were turned to the double door at the back of the courtroom. In the
+entryway at the head of the stairs huddled a group of shrinking girls.
+Before them, one foot upon the threshold, stood Ellinor Hoffman. She
+shook off a detaining hand and stepped into the room, head erect, proud,
+pale. Across the sea of curious faces her eyes met the prisoner's. Of
+all the courtroom, Billy and Deputy Phillips alone turned then to watch
+Jeff's face. They saw an almost imperceptible shake of his head, a
+finger on lip, a reassuring gesture--saw, too, the quick pulsebeat at
+his throat.
+
+The color flooded back to Ellinor's face. Men nearest the door were
+swift to bring chairs. The prosecutor resumed his interrupted
+speech--his voice was deep, hard, vibrant.
+
+"Your Honor, the counts against this man are fairly damning! We will
+prove that he was shaved in a barber shop in Arcadia at ten o'clock
+last night; that he then rode a roan horse; that the horse was then
+sweating profusely; that this horse was afterward found at the house
+of--but we will take that up later. We will prove by many witnesses that
+among the masqueraders was a man wearing a football suit, wearing a
+nosepiece similar--entirely similar--to the one found in the bank, which
+now lies before you. We will prove that this football player was not
+seen in the ballroom after the hour of eleven P.M. We will prove that
+when he was next seen, without the ballroom, it was not until sufficient
+time had elapsed for him to have committed this awful crime."
+
+Ellinor half rose from her seat; again Jeff flashed a warning at her.
+
+"We will prove this, Your Honor, by a most unwilling witness--Rosalio
+Marquez"--Monte smiled across at Jeff--"a friend of the prisoner, who,
+in his behalf, has not scrupled to defy the majesty of the law! We can
+prove by this witness, this reluctant witness, that when he returned to
+his home, shortly after midnight, he found there the prisoner's horse,
+which had not been there when Mr. Marquez left the house some four hours
+previously: and that, at some time subsequent to twelve o'clock, the
+witness Marquez was wakened by the entrance of the prisoner at the bar,
+clad in a football suit, but wearing no nosepiece with it! And we have
+the evidence of the sheriff's posse that they found in the home of the
+witness, Rosalio Marquez, the football suit--which we offer as Exhibit
+B. Nay, more! The prisoner did not deny, and indeed admitted, that this
+uniform was his; but--mark this!--the searching party found no nosepiece
+there!
+
+"It is true, Your Honor, that the stolen money was not found upon the
+prisoner; it is true that the prisoner made no use of the opportunity to
+escape offered him by his lawless and disreputable friend, Rosalio
+Marquez--a common gambler! Doubtless, Your Honor, his cunning had
+devised some diabolical plan upon which he relied to absolve himself
+from suspicion; and now, trembling, he has for the first time learned of
+the fatal flaw in his concocted defense, which he had so fondly deemed
+invincible!"
+
+All eyes, including the orator's, here turned upon the prisoner--to find
+him, so far from trembling, quite otherwise engaged. The prisoner's
+elbow was upon the rail, his chin in his hand; he regarded Mr. Lake
+attentively, with cheerful amusement and a quizzical smile which in some
+way subtly carried an expression of mockery and malicious triumph. To
+this fixed and disconcerting regard Mr. Lake opposed an iron front, but
+the effort required was apparent to all.
+
+There was an uneasy rustling through the court. The prisoner's bearing
+was convincing, natural; this was no mere brazen assuming. The banker's
+forced composure was not natural! He should have been an angry banker.
+Of the two men, Lake was the less at ease. The prisoner's face turned at
+last toward the door. Blank unrecognition was in his eyes as they swept
+past Ellinor, but he shook his head once more, very slightly.
+
+There was a sense of mystery in the air--a buzz and burr of whispers; a
+rustle of moving feet. The audience noticeably relaxed its implacable
+attitude toward the accused, eyed him with a different interest, seemed
+to feel for the first time that, after all, he was accused merely, and
+that his defense had not yet been heard. The prosecutor felt this subtle
+change; it lamed his periods.
+
+"It is true, Your Honor, that no eye save God's saw this guilty man do
+this deed; but the web of circumstantial evidence is so closely drawn,
+so far-reaching, so unanswerable, so damning, that no defense can avail
+him except the improbable, the impossible establishment of an alibi so
+complete, so convincing, as to satisfy even his bitterest enemy! We will
+ask you, Your Honor, when you have seen how fully the evidence bears out
+our every contention, to commit the prisoner, without bail, to answer
+the charge of robbery and attempted murder!"
+
+Then, by the door, Jeff saw the girl start up. She swept down the
+aisle, radiant, brave, unfearing, resolute, all half-gods gone; she
+shone at him--proud, glowing, triumphant!
+
+A hush fell upon the thrilled room. Jeff was on his feet, his hand held
+out to stay her; his eyes spoke to hers. She stopped as at a command.
+Scarcely slower, Billy was at her side. "Wait! Wait!" he whispered. "See
+what he has to say. There will be always time for that." Jeff's eyes
+held hers; she sank into an offered chair.
+
+Cheated, disappointed, the court took breath again. Their dramatic
+moment had been nothing but their own nerves; their own excited
+imaginings had attached a pulse-fluttering significance to the flushed
+cheeks of a prying girl, seeking a better place to see and hear, to
+gratify her morbid curiosity.
+
+Jeff turned to the bench.
+
+"Your Honor, I have a perfectly good line of defense; and I trust no
+friend of mine will undertake to change it. I will keep you but a
+minute," he said colloquially. "I will not waste your time combating
+the ingenious theory which the prosecution has built up, or in
+cross-examination of their witnesses, who, I feel sure"--here he bowed
+to the cloud of witnesses--"will testify only to the truth. I quite
+agree with my learned friend"--another graceful bow--"that the case he
+has so ably presented is so strong that it can successfully be rebutted
+only by an alibi so clear and so incontestable, as my learned friend has
+so aptly phrased it, as to convince if not satisfy ... my bitterest
+enemy!" The bow, the subtle, icy intonation, edged the words. The
+courtroom thrilled again at the unspoken thought: "_An enemy hath done
+this thing!_" If, in the stillness, the prisoner had quoted the words
+aloud in fierce denunciation, the effect could not have been different
+or more startling. "And that, Your Honor, is precisely what I propose to
+do!"
+
+His Honor was puzzled. He was a good judge of men; and the prisoner's
+face was not a bad face.
+
+"But," he objected, "you have refused to call any witnesses for the
+defense. Your unsupported word will count for nothing. You cannot prove
+an alibi alone."
+
+"Can't I?" said Jeff. "Watch me!"
+
+With a single motion he was through the open window. Bending branches of
+the nearest cottonwood broke his fall--the other trees hid his flight.
+
+Behind him rose uproar, tumult and hullabaloo, a mass of struggling men
+at cross purposes. Gun in hand, the sheriff, stumbling over some one's
+foot--Monte's--ran to the window; but the faithful deputy was before
+him, blocking the way, firing with loving care--at one particular
+tree-trunk. He was a good shot, Jimmy. He afterward showed with pride
+where each ball had struck in a scant six-inch space. Vainly the sheriff
+tried to force his way through. There was but one stairway, and it was
+jammed. Before the foremost pursuer had reached the open Jeff had
+borrowed one of the saddled horses hitched at the rack and was away to
+the hills.
+
+As Billy struggled through the press, searching for Ellinor, he found
+himself at Jimmy's elbow.
+
+"A dead game sport--any turn in the road!" agreed Billy.
+
+The deputy nodded curtly; but his answer was inconsequent:
+
+"Rather in the brunette line--that bit of tangible evidence!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE NETTLE, DANGER
+
+     "Bushel o' wheat, bushel o' rye--
+     All 'at ain't ready, holler 'I'!"
+
+                         --_Hide and Seek._
+
+
+Double Mountain lies lost in the desert, dwarfed by the greatness all
+about. Its form is that of a crater split from north to south into
+irregular halves. Through that narrow cleft ran a straight road, once
+the well-traveled thoroughfare from Rainbow to El Paso. For there was
+precious water within those upheaved walls; it was but three miles from
+portal to portal; the slight climb to the divide had not been grudged.
+Time was when campfires were nightly merry to light the narrow cliffs of
+Double Mountain; when songs were gay to echo from them; when this had
+been the only watering place to break the long span across the desert.
+The railroad had changed all this, and the silent leagues of that old
+road lay untrodden in the sun.
+
+Not untrodden on this the day after Jeff had established his alibi. A
+traveler followed that lonely road to Double Mountain; and behind,
+half-way to Rainbow Range, was a streak of dust; which gained on him.
+The traveler's sorrel horse was weary, for it was the very horse Jeff
+Bransford had borrowed from the hitching-rail of the courthouse square;
+the traveler was that able negotiator himself; and the pursuing dust, to
+the best of Jeff's knowledge and belief, meant him no good tidings.
+
+"Now, I got safe away from the foothills before day," soliloquized
+Jeff. "Some gentleman has overtaken me with a spyglass, I reckon.
+Civilization's getting this country plumb ruined! And their horses are
+fresh. Peg along, Alibi! Maybe I can pick up a stray horse at Double
+Mountain. If I can't there's no sort of use trying to get away on you!
+I'll play hide-and-go-seek-'em. That'll let you out, anyway, so cheer
+up! You done fine, old man! If I ever get out of this I'll buy you and
+make it all right with you. Pension you off if you think you'll like it.
+Get along now!"
+
+Twenty miles to Jeff's right the railroad paralleled the wagonroad in an
+unbroken tangent of ninety miles' stretch. A southbound passenger train
+crawled along the west like a resolute centipede plodding to a date:
+behind the fugitive, abreast, now far ahead, creeping along the shining
+straightaway. Forty miles the hour was her schedule; yet against this
+vast horizon she could hardly be said to change place until, sighting
+beyond her puny length, a new angle of the far western wall completed
+the trinomial line.
+
+Escondido was hidden in a dip of plain--whence the name, Hidden, when
+done into Saxon speech. The train was lost to sight when she stopped
+there, but Jeff saw the tiny steam plume of her whistling rise in the
+clear and taintless air; long after, the faint sound of it hummed
+drowsily by, like passing, far-blown horns of faerie in a dream. And, at
+no great interval thereafter, a low-lying dust appeared suddenly on the
+hither rim of Escondido's sunken valley.
+
+Jeff knew the land as you know your hallway. That line of dust marked
+the trail from Escondido Valley to the farther gate of Double Mountain.
+Even if he should be lucky enough to get a change of mounts at the
+spring in Double Mountain Basin he would be intercepted. Escape by
+flight was impossible. To fight his way out was impossible. He had no
+gun; and, even if he had a gun, he could not see his way to fight, under
+the circumstances. The men who hunted him down were only doing the right
+thing as they saw it. Had Jeff been guilty, it would have been a
+different affair. Being innocent, he could make no fight for it. He was
+cornered.
+
+     "Said the little Eohippus:
+     'I'm going to be a horse!'"
+
+So chanted Jeff, perceiving the hopelessness of his plight.
+
+The best gift to man--or, if not the best, then at least the rarest--is
+the power to meet the emergency: to do your best and a little better
+than your best when nothing less will serve: to be a pinch hitter. It is
+to be thought that certain stages of affection, and more particularly
+the presence of its object, affect unfavorably the workings of pure
+intellect. Certain it is that capable Bransford, who had cut so sorry a
+figure in Eden garden, now, in these distressing but Eveless
+circumstances, rose to the occasion. Collected, resourceful, he grasped
+every possible angle of the situation and, with the rope virtually about
+his neck, cheerfully planned the impossible--the essence of his elastic
+plan being to climb that very rope, hand over hand, to safety.
+
+"Going round the mountain is no good on a give-out horse. They'll follow
+my tracks," said Jeff to Jeff. Men who are much alone so shape their
+thoughts by voicing them, just as you practice conversation rather to
+make your own thought clear to yourself than to enlighten your
+victim--beg pardon--your neighbor. Just a slip of the tongue. _Vecino_
+is the Spanish for neighbor, you know. Not so much to enlighten your
+neighbor as to find out for yourself precisely what it is you think.
+"Hiding in the Basin is no good. Can't get out. Would I were a bird!
+Only one way. Got to go straight up--disappear--vanish in the air. 'Up
+a chimney, up----' Naw, that's backward! 'Up a chimney, down, or down a
+chimney, down; but not up a chimney, up, nor down a chimney, up!' So
+that's settled! Now let me see, says the little man. Mighty few
+Arcadians know me well enough not to be fooled--mebbe so. Lake? Lake
+won't come. He'll be busy. There's Jimmy; but Jimmy's got a shocking bad
+memory for faces sometimes, just now, my face. I think, maybe, I could
+manage Jimmy. The sheriff? That would be real awkward, I reckon. I'll
+just play the sheriff isn't in the bunch and build my little bluff
+according to that pleasing fancy; for if he comes along it is all off
+with little Jeff!
+
+"Now lemme see! If Gwin's working that little old mine of his--why,
+he'll lie himself black in the face just for the principle of it. Mighty
+interestin' talker, Gwin is. And if no one's there, I'll be there. Not
+Jeff Bransford; he got away. I'll be Long--Tobe Long--working for Gwin.
+Tobe Long. I apprenticed my son to a miner, and the first thing he took
+was a new name!"
+
+Far away on the side of Double Mountain he could even now see the white
+triangle of the tent at Gwin's mine--the Ophir--and the gray dump
+spilling down the hillside. There was no smoke to be seen. Jeff made up
+his mind there was no one at the mine--which was what he devoutly
+hoped--and further developed his gleeful hypothesis.
+
+"Let's see now, Tobe. Got to study this all out. They most always leave
+all their kegs full of water when they go away, so they won't have to
+pack 'em up the first thing when they come back. If they did, I'm all
+right. If they didn't, I'm in a hell of a fix! They'll leave 'em full,
+though. Of course they did--else the kegs would all dry up and fall
+down." He glanced over his shoulder. "Them fellows are ten or twelve
+miles back, I reckon. They'll slow up so soon as they see I'm headed
+off. I'll have time to fix things up--if only there's water in the kegs
+at the mine!" He patted Alibi's head: "Now, old man, do your damnedest!
+It's pretty tough on you, but your part will soon be over."
+
+Alibi had made a poor night of it, what with doubling and twisting in
+the foothills, the bitter water of a gyp spring, and the scanty grass of
+a cedar thicket; but he did his plucky best. On the legal other hand, as
+Jeff had prophesied, the dustmakers behind had slackened their gait when
+they perceived, by the dust of Escondido trail, that their allies must
+cut the quarry off. So Alibi held his own with the pursuit.
+
+He came to the rising ground leading to the sheer base of Double
+Mountain; then to the narrow Gap where the mountain had fallen asunder
+in some age-old cataclysm. To the left, the dump of Ophir Mine hung on
+the hillside above the pass; and on the broad trail zigzagging up to it
+were burro-tracks, but no fresh tracks of men. The flaps of the white
+tent on the dump were tightly closed. There was no one at the mine. Jeff
+passed within the walls, through frowning gates of porphyry and gneiss,
+and urged Alibi up the cañon. It was half a mile to the spring. On the
+way he found three shaggy burros grazing beside the road. He drove them
+into the small pen by the spring and tossed his rope on the largest one.
+Then he unsaddled Alibi, tied him to the fence by the bridle rein, and
+searched his pockets for an old letter. This found, he penciled a note
+and tied it to the saddle. It was brief:
+
+                         EN ROUTE, FOUR P.M.
+
+Please water my horse when he cools off.
+
+                         Your little friend,
+                              JEFF BRANSFORD.
+
+P. S. Excuse haste.
+
+He made a plain trail of high-heeled boot-tracks to the spring, where he
+drank deep; thence beyond, through the sandy soil, to the nearest rocky
+ridge. Then, careful that every step fell on a bare rock, he came
+circuitously back to the corral, climbed the fence, made his way to the
+tied burro, improvised a bridle of cunning half-hitches, slipped from
+the fence to the burro's back--a burro, by the way, is a donkey--named
+the burro anew as Balaam, and went back down the cañon at the best pace
+of which the belabored and astonished Balaam was capable. As Jeff had
+hoped, the two other burros--or the other two burros, to be
+precise--followed sociably, braying remonstrance.
+
+Without the mouth of the cañon Jeff rode up the steep trail to the mine,
+also to the great disgust of his mount; but he must not walk--it would
+leave boot-tracks. For the same reason, after freeing Balaam, his first
+action was to pull off the telltale boots and replace them with the
+smallest pair of hobnailed miner's shoes in the tent. With these he
+carefully obliterated the few boot-tracks at the tent door.
+
+The water-kegs were full; Jeff swore his joyful gratitude and turned his
+eye to the plain. The pursuing dust was still far away--seven miles, he
+estimated, or possibly eight. The three burros nibbled on the bushes
+below the dump; plainly intending to stay round camp with an eye for
+possible tips. Jeff gave his whole-hearted attention to the
+_mise-en-scène_.
+
+Never did stage manager toil so hard, so faithfully, so effectively as
+this one--or with so great a need. He took stock of the available stage
+properties, beginning with a careful inventory of the grub-chest. To
+betray ignorance of its possibilities or deficiencies would be fatal.
+Following a narrow trail round a little shoulder of hill, he found the
+powder magazine. Taking three sticks of dynamite, with fuse and caps, he
+searched the tent for the candle-box, lit a candle and went into the
+tunnel with a brisk trot. "If this was a case of fight, now, I'd have
+some pretty fair weapons here for close quarters," said Jeff; "but the
+way I'm fixed I can't. No fighting goes--unless Lake comes."
+
+In the tunnel his luck held good. He found a number of good-sized chunks
+of rock stacked along the wall near the breast--evidently reserved for
+the ore pile at a more convenient season. Beneath three of the largest
+of these rocks he carefully adjusted the three sticks of giant powder,
+properly capped and fused, lit the fuses and retreated to the safety of
+the dump. Three muffled detonations followed at short intervals. Having
+thus announced the presence of mining operations, he built a fire on the
+kitchen side of the dump to further advertise a mind conscious of its
+own rectitude. The pleasant shadow of the hills was cool about him; the
+flame rose clear and bright in the windless air, to be seen from far
+away.
+
+He looked at the location papers in the monument by the ore stack;
+simultaneously, by way of economizing time, emptying a can of salmon.
+This was partly for the added verisimilitude of the empty tin, partly
+because he was ravenously hungry. You may guess how he emptied the tin.
+
+The mine had changed owners since Jeff's knowledge of it. It was no
+longer Gwin's sole property. The notice bore the signatures of J. Gwin,
+C. W. Sanders and Walter Fleck. Jeff grinned and his eye brightened. He
+knew Fleck only slightly; but Fleck's reputation among the cowmen was
+good--that is to say, as you would see it, very bad.
+
+Pappy Sanders, postmaster and storekeeper of Escondido, was an old and
+sorely tried friend of Jeff's. If Pappy had grub-staked the outfit----A
+far-away plan began to shape vaguely in his fertile brain. He took the
+little turquoise horse from his pocket and laid it in the till of the
+violated trunk. Were you told about the violated trunk? Never mind--he
+had done any amount of other things of which you have not been told; for
+it was his task, in the brief time allotted to him, to master all the
+innumerable details needful for an intelligent reading of his part. He
+must make no blunders.
+
+He toiled like two men, each swifter and more savagely efficient than
+himself; he upset the prim, old he-maidenish order of that carefully
+packed, spick-and-span camp; he rumpled the beds; strewed old clothes,
+books, candles, specimens, pipes and cigarette papers with lavish hand;
+made untidy, sprawling heaps of tin plates; knives, forks and spoons;
+spilled candle-grease and tobacco on the scoured table; and generally
+gave things a cozy and habitable appearance.
+
+He gave a hundred deft touches here and there. He spread an open book
+face downward on the table. (It was "Alice in Wonderland," and he opened
+it at the Mock-Turtle.) Meanwhile an unoccupied eye snatched titles from
+a shelf of books against possible question; he penned a short note to
+himself--Mr. Tobe Long--in Gwin's handwriting, folded the note to
+creases, twisted it to a spill, lit it, burned a corner of it, pinched
+it out and threw it under the table; and, while doing these and other
+things, he somehow managed to shed every article of Jeff Bransford's
+clothing and to put on the work-stained garments of a miner.
+
+The perspiration on his face was no stage make-up, but good, honest
+sweat. He rubbed stone-dust and sand on his sweaty arms and into his
+sweaty hair; he rubbed most of it from his hair and into the two-days'
+stubble on his face, simultaneously fishing razor and mug from the
+trunk, leaving them in evidence on the table. He worked stone-dust into
+his ears, behind his ears; he grimed it on forehead and neck; he even
+dropped a little into his shoes, which all this while had been
+performing independent miracles to make the camp look comfortable. He
+threw on a dingy cap, thrust in the cap a miner's candlestick, with a
+lighted candle, that it might properly drip upon him while he arranged
+further details--and so faced the world as Tobe Long, a stooped and
+overworked man!
+
+Mr. Tobe Long, working with feverish haste, dug a small cave half-way
+down the steep side of the dump farthest from the road and buried
+therein a tightly rolled bundle containing every article appertaining to
+the defunct Bransford, with the single exception of the little eohippus;
+a pocketknife, which a miner must have to cut powder and fuse, having
+been found in the trunk--what time also the little turquoise horse was
+transferred to Mr. Long's pocket to bring him luck in his new career--a
+poor thing compared with the cowman's keen blade, but better for
+Mr. Long's purposes, as smelling strongly of dynamite. Then Mr.
+Long--Tobe--hid the grave by sliding and shoveling broken rock down the
+dump upon it.
+
+Next he threw into a wheelbarrow drills, spoon, tamping stick, gads,
+drill-hammer, rock-hammer, canteen, shovel and pick--taking care, even
+in his haste, to select a properly matched set of drills--and trundled
+the barrow up the drift at a pace which would give a Miners' Union the
+rabies. At the breast, he unshipped his cargo in right miner's fashion,
+the drills in a graduated stepladder row along the wall; loaded the
+barrow with broken ore, a bit of charred fuse showing at the top, and
+wheeled it out at the same unprofessional gait, leaving it on the dump
+just above the spot where his late sepulchral rites had freshened the
+appearance of the sunbeaten dump.
+
+He next performed his ablutions in an amateurish and perfunctory
+fashion, scrupulously observing a well-defined waterline.
+
+"There!" said Mr. Long. "I near made a break that time!" He went back to
+the barrow and trundled it assiduously to the tunnel's mouth and back
+several times, carefully never in quite the same place--finally leaving
+it not above the sepulchered spoil, but near the ore stack, as befitted
+its valuable contents. "I got to think of everything. One wrong break'll
+fix me good!" said Mr. Long. He felt his neck delicately, as if he
+detected some foreign presence there. "In the tunnel, now, there's only
+the one place where the wheel can go; so it don't matter so much in
+there."
+
+The fire having now burned down to proper coals, Mr. Long set about
+supper; with the corner of his eye on the lookout for the pursuers of
+the late Bransford. He set the coffee-pot by the fire--they were now in
+the edge of the tar-brush; there were only two of them. He put on a pot
+of potatoes in their jackets--he could see them plainly, diminutive
+black horsemen twinkling through the brush; he sliced bacon into a
+frying-pan and put it aside to await his cue; he disposed other cooking
+ware in lifelike attitudes near the fire--they were in the long shadow
+of Double Mountain; their horses were jaded; they rode slowly. He
+dropped the sour-dough jar and placed the broken pieces where they would
+be inconspicuously visible. Having thus a perfectly obvious excuse for
+not having sour-dough bread, which requires thirty-six hours of running
+start for preliminary rising, Jeff--Mr. Tobe Long--mixed up a
+just-as-good baking-powder substitute--they rode like young men; they
+rode like young men not to the saddle born, and Tobe permitted himself a
+chuckle: "By hooky, I've got an even chance for my little bluff!"
+
+He shook his head reprovingly at himself for this last admission. With
+every minute he looked more like Tobe Long than ever--if only there had
+been any Tobe Long to look like. His mind ran upon nuggets, pockets,
+placers, faults, true fissure veins, the cyanide process, concentrates,
+chlorides, sulphides, assays, leases and bonds; his face took on the
+strained wistfulness which marks the confirmed prospector: he _was_ Tobe
+Long!
+
+The bell rang.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN
+
+     "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."
+
+                         --_The Dictionary._
+
+
+"Ho-o-e-ee! Hello-o!"
+
+As the curtain rose to the flying echoes Long stepped to the edge of the
+dump, frying-pan in hand, and sent back an answering shout in the
+startled high note of a lonely man taken unawares.
+
+"Hello-o!" He brandished his hospitable pan. Then he put it down, cupped
+hands to mouth and trumpeted a hearty welcome: "Chuck! Come up! Supper's
+ready!"
+
+"Can't! See any one go by about two hours ago?"
+
+"Hey? Louder!"
+
+"See a man on a sorrel horse?"
+
+"No-o! I been in the tunnel. Come up!"
+
+"Can't. We're after an outlaw!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"After a murderer!"
+
+"Wait a minute! I'll be down. Too hard to yell so far."
+
+Mr. Long started precipitately down the zigzag; but the riders had got
+all the information of interest that Mr. Long could furnish and they
+were eager to be in at the death.
+
+"Can't wait! He's inside the mountain, somewheres. Some of the boys are
+waiting for him at the other end." They rode on.
+
+Mr. Long posed for a statue of Disappointment, hung on the steep trail
+rather as if he might conclude to coil himself into a ball and roll down
+the hill to overtake them.
+
+"Stop as you come back!" he bellowed. "Want to hear about it."
+
+Did Jeff--Mr. Long--did Mr. Long now attempt to escape? Not so. Gifted
+with prevision beyond most, Mr. Long's mind misgave him that these young
+men would be baffled in their pleasing expectations. They would be back
+before sundown, very cross; and a miner's brogan leaves a track not to
+be missed.
+
+That Mr. Long was unfeignedly fatigued from the varied efforts of the
+day need not be mentioned, for that alone would not have stayed his
+flight; but the nearest water, save Escondido, was thirty-five miles;
+and at Escondido he would be watched for--not to say that, when he was
+missed, some of the searching party would straightway go to Escondido to
+frustrate him. Present escape was not to be thought of.
+
+Instead, Mr. Long made a hearty meal from the simple viands that had
+been in course of preparation when he was surprised, eked out by canned
+corn fried in bacon grease to a crisp, golden brown. Then, after a
+cigarette, he betook himself to sharpening tools with laudable industry.
+The tools were already sharp, but that did not stop Mr. Long. He built a
+fire in the forge, set up a stepladder of matched drills in the
+blackened water of the tempering tub; he thrust a gad and one short
+drill into the fire. When the gad was at a good cherry heat he thrust it
+hissing into the tub to bring the water to a convincing temperature; and
+when reheated he did it again. From time to time he held the one drill
+to the anvil and shaped it, drawing it alternately to a chisel bit or a
+bull bit. Mr. Long could sharpen a drill with any, having been, in very
+truth, a miner of sorts--he could toy thus with one drill without giving
+it any very careful attention, and his thoughts were now busy on how
+best to be Mr. Long.
+
+Accordingly from time to time he added an artistic touch to Mr.
+Long--grime under his fingernails, a smudge of smut on an eyebrow. His
+hands displeased him. After some experimenting to get the proper heat of
+it he grasped the partially cooled gad with the drill-pincers and held
+it very lightly to a favored few of those portions of the hand known to
+chiromaniacs as the mounts of Jupiter, Saturn and other extinct
+immortals.
+
+Satisfactory blisters-while-you-wait were thus obtained. These were
+pricked with a pin; some were torn to tatters, with dust and coal rubbed
+in to give them a venerable appearance. The pain was no light matter;
+but Mr. Long had a real affection for Mr. Bransford's neck, and it is
+trifles like these that make perfection.
+
+The next expedient was even more heroic. Mr. Long assiduously put
+stone-dust in one eye, leaving it tearful, bloodshot and violently
+inflamed; and the other one was sympathetically red. "Bit o' steel in my
+eye," explained Mr. Long. Unselfish devotion such as this is all too
+rare.
+
+All this while, at proper intervals, Mr. Long sharpened and resharpened
+that one long-suffering drill. He tripped into the tunnel and smote a
+mighty blow upon the country rock with a pick--therefore qualifying that
+pick for repointing--and laid it on the forge as next on the list.
+
+What further outrage he meditated is not known, for he now heard a horse
+coming up the trail. He was beating out a merry tattoo when a
+white-hatted head rose through a trapdoor--rose above the level of the
+dump, rather.
+
+Hammer in hand, Long straightened up joyfully as best he could, but
+could not straighten up the telltale droop of his shoulders. It was not
+altogether assumed, either, this hump. Jeff--Mr. Long--had not done so
+much work of this sort for years and there was a very real pain between
+his shoulderblades. Still, but for the exigencies of art, he might have
+borne his neck less turtlewise than he did.
+
+"Hello! Get him? Where's your pardner?"
+
+"Watching the gap." The young man, rather breathless from the climb,
+answered the last question first as he led his horse on the dump. "No,
+we didn't get him; but he can't get away. Hiding somewhere in the Basin
+afoot. Found his horse. Pretty well done up." The insolence of the
+outlaw's letter smote him afresh; he reddened. "No tracks going out of
+the Basin. Two of our friends guarding the other end. They say he can't
+get out over the cliffs anywhere. That so?" The speech came jerkily; he
+was still short of breath from his scramble.
+
+"Not without a flying machine," said Long. "No way out that I know of,
+except where the wagonroad goes. What's he done?"
+
+"Robbery! Murder! We'll see that he don't get out by the wagonroad,"
+asserted the youth confidently. "Watch the gaps and starve him out!"
+
+"Oh, speaking of starving," said Tobe, "go into the tent and I'll bring
+you some supper while you tell me about it. Baked up another batch of
+bread on the chance you'd come back."
+
+"Why, thank you very much, Mr.----"
+
+"Long--Tobe Long."
+
+"Mr. Long. My name is Gurdon Steele. Glad to meet you. Why, if you will
+be so kind--that is what I came up to see you about. If you can let us
+have what we need; of course we will pay you for it."
+
+"Of course you won't!" It had not needed the offer to place Mr. Gurdon
+Steele quite accurately. He was a handsome lad, fresh-complexioned,
+dressed in the Western manner as practised on the Boardwalk. "You're
+welcome to what I got, sure; but I ain't got much variety. Gwin, the old
+liar, said he was coming out the twentieth--and sure enough he didn't;
+so the grub's running low. Table in the tent--come on!"
+
+"Oh, no, I couldn't, you know! Rex--that's my partner--is quite as
+hungry as I am, you see; but if you could give me something--anything
+you have--to take down there? I really couldn't, you know!" The
+admirable doctrine of _noblesse oblige_ in its delicate application by
+this politeness, was easier for its practitioner than to put it into
+words suited to the comprehension of his hearer; he concluded lamely:
+"I'll take it down there and we will eat it together."
+
+"See here," said Tobe, "I'm as hungry to hear about your outlaw as you
+are to eat. I'll just throw my bedding and a lot of chuck on your
+saddle. We'll carry the coffee-pot and frying-pan in our hands--and the
+sugar-can and things like that. You can tank up and give me the news in
+small chunks at the same time. Afterward two of us can sleep while one
+stands guard."
+
+This was done. It was growing dark when they reached the bottom of the
+hill. The third guardsman had built a fire.
+
+"Rex, this is Mr. Long, who has been kind enough to grubstake us and
+share our watch with us."
+
+Mr. Steele, you have observed, had accepted Mr. Long without question;
+but his first impression of Mr. Long had been gained under circumstances
+highly favorable to the designs of the latter gentleman. Mr. Steele had
+come upon him unexpectedly, finding him as it were _in medias res_, with
+all his skillfully arranged scenery to aid the illusion. The case was
+now otherwise--the thousand-tongued vouching of his background lacked to
+him; Mr. Long had naught save his own unthinkable audacity to belie his
+face withal. From the first instant Mr. Rex Griffith was the prey of
+suspicions--acute, bigoted, churlish, deep, dark, distrustful, damnable,
+and so on down to zealous. He had a sharp eye; he wore no puttees; and
+Mr. Long had a vaguely uncomfortable memory, holding over from some
+previous incarnation, of having seen that long, shrewd face in a
+courtroom.
+
+The host, on hospitable rites intent, likewise all ears and eager
+questionings, was all unconscious of hostile surveillance. Nothing could
+be more carefree, more at ease than his bearing; his pleasant
+anticipatory excitement was the natural outlook for a lonely and
+newsless man. As the hart panteth for the water, so he thirsted for the
+story; but his impatient, hasty questions, following false scents,
+delayed the telling of the Arcadian tale. So innocent was he, so open
+and aboveboard, that Griffith, watching, alert, felt thoroughly ashamed
+of himself. Yet he watched, doubting still, though his reason rebelled
+at the monstrous imaginings of his heart. That the outlaw, unarmed and
+unasked, should venture--Pshaw! Such effrontery was inconceivable. He
+allowed Steele to tell the story, himself contributing only an
+occasional crafty question designed to enable his host to betray
+himself.
+
+"Bransford?" interrupted Mr. Long. "Not Jeff Bransford--up South Rainbow
+way?"
+
+"That's the man," said Steele.
+
+"I don't believe it," said Long flatly. He was sipping coffee with his
+guests; he put his cup down. "I know him, a little. He don't----"
+
+"Oh, there's no doubt of it!" interrupted Steele in his turn. He
+detailed the circumstances with skilful care. "Besides, why did he run
+away? Gee! You ought to have seen that escape! It was splendid!"
+
+"Well, now, who'd 'a' thought that?" demanded Long, still only half
+convinced. "He didn't strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you never
+can tell! How come you fellows to be chasin' him?"
+
+"You see," said Steele, "every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow.
+The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but we
+four--Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us, you
+know--we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were out
+early--sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me--and we had a
+spyglass. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between two
+hills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding a
+sorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. We
+didn't suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried to
+pick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid the
+ridges--keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after him
+pell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not to
+make a dust--that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out."
+
+"You're not deputies, then?" said Long.
+
+"Oh, no, not at all!" said Steele, secretly flattered. "So Harlow and
+Stone galloped off to town. The program was that they'd wire down to
+Escondido to have horses ready for them, come down on Number Six and
+head him off. They were not to tell any one in Arcadia. There's five
+thousand dollars' reward out for him--but it isn't that exactly. It was
+a cowardly, beastly murder, don't you know; and we thought it would be
+rather a big thing if we could take him alone."
+
+"You got him penned all right," said Tobe. "He can't get out, so far as
+I know, unless he runs over us or the men at the other end. By George,
+we must get away from this fire, too!" He set the example, dragging the
+bedding with him to the shelter of a big rock. "He could pick us off too
+slick here in the light. How're you going to get him? There's a heap of
+country in that Basin, all rough and broken, full o' boulders--mighty
+good cover."
+
+"Starve him out!" said Griffith. This was base deceit. Deep in his heart
+he believed that the quarry sat beside him, well fed and contented. Yet
+the unthinkable insolence of it--if this were indeed Bransford--dulled
+his belief.
+
+Long laughed as he spread down the bed. "He'll shoot a deer. Maybe, if
+he had it all planned out, he may have grub cached in there somewhere.
+There's watertanks in the rocks. Say, what are your pardners at the
+other side going to do for grub?"
+
+"Oh, they brought out cheese and crackers and stuff," said Gurd.
+
+"I'll tell you what, boys, you've bit off more than you can chaw," said
+Jeff--Tobe, that is. "He can't get out without a fight--but, then, you
+can't go in there to hunt for him without weakening your guard; and he'd
+be under shelter and have all the best of it. He'd shoot you so dead
+you'd never know what happened. I don't want none of it! I'd as lief put
+on boxing gloves and crawl into a hole after a bear! Look here, now,
+this is your show; but I'm a heap older'n you boys. Want to know what I
+think?"
+
+"Certainly," said Rex.
+
+"Goin' to talk turkey to me?" An avaricious light came into Long's eyes.
+
+"Of course; you're in on the reward," said Rex diffidently and rather
+stiffly. "We are not in this for the money."
+
+"I can use the money--whatever share you want to give me," said Long
+dryly; "but if you take my advice my share won't be but a little. I
+think you ought to keep under shelter at the mouth of this cañon--one of
+you--and let the other one go to Escondido and send for help, quick, and
+a lot of it."
+
+"What's the matter with you going?" asked Griffith disingenuously. He
+wanted Long to show his hand. It would never do to abandon the siege of
+Double Mountain to arrest this _soi-disant_ Long on mere suspicion. On
+the other hand, Mr. Rex Griffith had no idea of letting Long escape his
+clutches until his identity was established, one way or the other,
+beyond all question.
+
+That was why Long declined the offer. His honest gaze shifted. "I ain't
+much of a rider," he said evasively. Young Griffith read correctly the
+thought which the excuse concealed. Evidently Long considered himself an
+elder soldier, if not a better, than either of his two young guests, but
+wished to spare their feelings by not letting them find it out. Griffith
+found this plain solution inconsistent with his homicidal theory: a
+murderer, fleeing for his life, would have jumped at the chance.
+
+There are two sides to every question. Let us, this once, prove both
+sides. Wholly oblivious to Griffith's lynx-eyed watchfulness and his
+leading questions, Mr. Long yet recognized the futility of an attempt to
+ride away on Mr. Griffith's horse with Mr. Griffith's benison. There we
+have the other point of view.
+
+"We'll have to send for grub anyway," pursued the sagacious Mr. Long.
+"I've only got a little left; and that old liar, Gwin, won't be out for
+four days--if he comes then. And--er--look here now--if I was you boys
+I'd let the sheriff and his posse smoke your badger out. They get paid
+to tend to that--and it looks to me like some one was going to get hurt.
+You've done enough."
+
+All this advice was so palpably sound that the doubter was, for the
+second, staggered--for a second only. This was the man he had seen in
+the prisoner's dock. He was morally sure of it. For all the difference
+of appearance, this was the man. Yet those blasts--the far-seen
+fire--the hearty welcome--this delivery of himself into their hands?...
+Griffith scarcely knew what he did think. He blamed himself for his
+unworthy suspicions; he blamed Gurdy more for having no suspicions at
+all.
+
+"Anything else?" he said. "That sounds good."
+
+Tobe studied for some time.
+
+"Well," he said at last, "there may be some way he can get out. I don't
+think he can--but he might find a way. He knows he's trapped; but likely
+he has no idea yet how many of us there are. So we know he'll try, and
+he won't be just climbing for fun. He'll take a chance."
+
+Steele broke in:
+
+"He didn't leave any rope on his saddle."
+
+Tobe nodded.
+
+"So he means to try it. Now here's five of us here. It seems to me that
+some one ought to ride round the mountain the first thing in the
+morning, and every day afterward--only here's hoping there won't be many
+of 'em--to look for tracks. There isn't one chance in a hundred he can
+climb out; but if he goes out of here afoot we've got him sure. The man
+on guard wants to keep in shelter. It's light to-night--there's no
+chance for him to slip out without being seen. You say the old watchman
+ain't dead yet, Mr. Griffith?"
+
+"No. The latest bulletin was that he was almost holding his own."
+
+"Hope he gets well," said Long. "Good old geezer! Now, cap, I've worked
+hard and you've ridden hard. Better set your guards and let the other
+two take a little snooze."
+
+Griffith was not proof against the insidious flattery of this unhesitant
+preference. He flushed with embarrassment and pleasure.
+
+"Well, if I'm to be captain, Gurd will take the first guard--till
+eleven. Then you come on till two, Mr. Long. I'll stand from then on
+till daylight."
+
+In five minutes Mr. Long was enjoying the calm and restful sleep of
+fatigued innocence; but his poor captain was doomed to have a bad night
+of it, with two Bransfords on his hands--one in the Basin and one in the
+bed beside him. His head was dizzy with the vicious circle. Like the
+gentlewoman of the nursery rhyme, he was tempted to cry: "Lawk 'a' mercy
+on me, this is none of I!"
+
+If he haled his bedmate to justice and the real Bransford got away--that
+would be a nice predicament for an ambitious young man! He was sensitive
+to ridicule, and he saw here such an opportunity to earn it as knocks
+but once at any man's door.
+
+If, on the other hand, while he held Bransford cooped tightly in the
+Basin, this thrice-accursed Long should escape him and there should be
+no Bransford in the Basin----What nonsense! What utter twaddle!
+Bransford was in the Basin. He had found his horse and saddle, his
+tracks; no tracks had come out of the Basin. Immediately on the
+discovery of the outlaw's horse, Gurd had ridden back posthaste and held
+the pass while he, the captain, had gone to the mouth of the southern
+cañon and posted his friends. He had watched for tracks of a footman
+every step of the way, going and coming; there had been no tracks.
+Bransford was in the Basin. He watched the face of the sleeping man.
+But, by Heaven, this was Bransford!
+
+Was ever a poor captain in such a predicament? A moment before he had
+fully and definitely decided once for all that this man was not
+Bransford, could not be Bransford; that it was not possible! His reason
+unwaveringly told him one thing, his eyesight the other!... Yet
+Bransford, or an unfortunate twin of his, lay now beside him--and, for
+further mockery, slept peacefully, serene, untroubled.... He looked upon
+the elusive Mr. Long with a species of horror! The face was drawn and
+lined. Yet, but forty-eight hours of tension would have left
+Bransford's face not otherwise. He had noticed Bransford's hands in the
+courtroom--noticed their well-kept whiteness, due, as he had decided, to
+the perennial cowboy glove. This man's hands, as he had seen by the
+campfire, were blistered and calloused! Callouses were not made in a
+day. He took another look at Long. Oh, thunder!
+
+He crept from bed. He whispered a word to sentry Steele; not to outline
+the distressing state of his own mind, but merely to request Steele not
+to shoot him, as he was going up to the mine.
+
+He climbed up the trail, chewing the unpalatable thought that Gurdon had
+seen nothing amiss--yet Gurd had been at the trial! The captain began to
+wish he had never gone on that deerhunt.
+
+He went into the tent, struck a match, lit a candle and examined
+everything closely. There was no gun in the camp and no cartridges. He
+found the spill of twisted paper under the table, smothered his qualms
+and read it. He noted the open book for future examination in English.
+And now Tobe's labors had their late reward, for Rex missed nothing.
+Every effort brought fresh disappointment and every disappointment
+spurred him to fresh effort. He went into the tunnel; he scrutinized
+everything, even to the drills in the tub. The food supply tallied with
+Long's account. No detail escaped him and every detail confirmed the
+growing belief that he, Captain Griffith, was a doddering imbecile.
+
+He returned to the outpost, convinced at last. Nevertheless, merely to
+quiet the ravings of his insubordinate instincts, now in open revolt, he
+restaked the horses nearer to camp and cautiously carried both saddles
+to the head of the bed. Concession merely encouraged the rebels to
+further and successful outrages--the government was overthrown.
+
+He drew sentry Steele aside and imparted his doubts. That faithful
+follower heaped scorn, mockery, laughter and abuse upon his shrinking
+superior: recounted all the points, from the first blasts of dynamite to
+the present moment, which favored the charitable belief above mentioned
+as newly entertained by Captain Griffith concerning himself. This belief
+of Captain Griffith was amply indorsed by his subordinate in terms of
+point and versatility.
+
+"Of course they look alike. I noticed that the minute I saw him--the
+same amount of legs and arms, features all in the fore part of his head,
+hair on top, one body--wonderful! Why, you pitiful ass, that Bransford
+person was a mighty keen-looking man in any company. This fellow's a
+yokel--an old, rusty, cap-and-ball, single-shot muzzle-loader. The
+Bransford was an automatic, steel-frame, high velocity----"
+
+"The better head he has the more apt he is to do the unexpected----"
+
+"Aw, shut up! You've got incipient paresis! Stuff your ears in your
+mouth and go to sleep!"
+
+The captain sought his couch convinced, but holding his first opinion,
+savagely minded to arrest Mr. Long rather than let him have a gun to
+stand guard with. He was spared the decision. Mr. Long declined Gurdon's
+proffered gun, saying that he would be right there and he was a poor
+shot anyway.
+
+Gurdon slept; Long took his place--and Captain Rex, from the bed,
+watched the watcher. Never was there a more faithful sentinel than Mr.
+Long. Without relaxing his vigilance even to smoke, he strained every
+faculty lest the wily Bransford should creep out through the shadows.
+The captain saw him, a stooped figure, sitting motionless by his rock,
+always alert, peering this way and that, turning his head to listen.
+Once Tobe saw something. He crept noiselessly to the bed and shook his
+chief. Griffith came, with his gun. Something was stirring in the
+bushes. After a little it moved out of the shadows. It was a prowling
+coyote. The captain went back to bed once more convinced of Long's
+fidelity, but resolved to keep a relentless eye on him just the same.
+And all unawares, as he revolved the day's events in his mind, the
+captain dropped off to troubled sleep.
+
+Mr. Long woke him at three. There had been a temptation to ride away,
+but the saddles were at the head of the bed, the ground was stony; he
+would be heard. He might have made an attempt to get both guns from
+under the pillow, but detection meant ruin for him, since to shoot these
+boys or to hurt them was out of the question. Escape by violence would
+have been easy and assured. Jeff preferred to trust his wits. He was
+enjoying himself very much.
+
+When the captain got his relentless eyes open and realized what had
+chanced he saw that further doubt was unworthy. Half an hour later the
+unworthy captain stole noiselessly to Long's bedside and saw, to his
+utter rage and distraction, that Mr. Bransford was there again. It was
+almost too much to bear. He felt that he should always hate Long, even
+after Bransford was safely hanged. Bransford's head had slipped from
+Long's pillow. Hating himself, Griffith subtly withdrew the miner's
+folded overalls and went through the pockets.
+
+He found there a knife smelling of dynamite, matches, a turquoise carved
+to what was plainly meant to be the form of a bad-tempered horse, and
+two small specimens of ore!
+
+Altogether, the captain passed a wild and whirling night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN (_Continued_)
+
+     "If the bowl had been stronger
+     My tale had been longer."
+
+                         --_Mother Goose_.
+
+
+When the sun peeped over Rainbow Range, Captain Griffith bent over Tobe
+Long's bed. His eyes were aching, burned and sunken; the lids twitched;
+his face was haggard and drawn--but he had arrived at an unalterable
+decision. This thing could not and should not go on. His brain reeled
+now--another such night would entitle him to state protection.
+
+He shook Mr. Long roughly.
+
+"See here! I believe you're Bransford himself!"
+
+Thus taken off his guard, Long threw back the bedding, rose to one
+elbow, still half asleep, and reached for his shoes, laughing and
+yawning alternately. Then, as he woke up a little more, he saw a better
+way to dress, dropped the shoes and unfurled his pillow--which, by day,
+he wore as overalls. Fumbling behind him, where the pillow had lain, he
+found a much-soiled handkerchief and tenderly dabbed at his swollen eye.
+
+"Bit of steel in my eye from a drill-head," he explained. "Jiminy, but
+it's sore!"
+
+Plainly he took the accusation as a pleasantry calling for no answer.
+
+"I mean it! I'm going to keep you under guard!" said Captain Griffith
+bitingly.
+
+Poor, sleepy Tobe, half-way into his overalls, stared up at Mr.
+Griffith; his mouth dropped open--he was quite at a loss for words. The
+captain glared back at him. Tobe kicked the overalls off and cuddled
+back into bed.
+
+"Bully!" he said. "Then I won't have to get breakfast!"
+
+Gurdon Steele sat up in bed, a happy man. His eye gave Mr. Long a
+discreetly confidential look, as of one who restrains himself, out of
+instinctive politeness, from a sympathetic and meaningful tap of one's
+forehead. A new thought struck Mr. Long. He reached over behind Steele
+for the rifle at the bed's edge and thrust it into the latter's hands.
+
+"Here, Boy Scout! Watch me!" he whispered. "Don't let me escape while I
+sleep a few lines! I'm Bransford!"
+
+Gurdie rubbed his eyes and giggled.
+
+"Don't you mind Rex. That's the worst of this pipe habit. You never can
+tell how they'll break out next."
+
+"Yes, laugh, you blind bat!" said Rex bitterly. "I've got him all the
+same, and I'm going to keep him while you go to Escondido!" His rifle
+was tucked under his arm; he patted the barrel significantly.
+
+It slowly dawned upon Mr. Long that Captain Griffith was not joking,
+after all, and an angry man was he. He sat up in bed.
+
+"Oh, piffle! Oh, fudge! Oh, pickled moonshine! If I'm Bransford what the
+deuce am I doing here? Why, you was both asleep! I could 'a' shot your
+silly heads off and you'd 'a' never woke up. You make me tired!"
+
+"Don't mind him, Long. He'll feel better when he takes a nap," said Gurd
+joyfully. "He has poor spells like this and he misses his nurse. We
+always make allowances for him."
+
+Mr. Long's indignation at last overcame his politeness, and in his wrath
+he attacked friend and foe indiscriminately.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me you two puling infants are out hunting down a
+man you never saw? Don't the men at the other side know him either? By
+jinks, you hike out o' this after breakfast and send for some grown-up
+men. I want part of that reward--and I'm going to have it! Look here!"
+He turned blackly to Gurdon. "Are you sure that Bransford, or any one
+else, came in here at all yesterday, or did you dream it? Or was it all
+a damfool kid joke? Listen here! I worked like a dog yesterday. If you
+had me stand guard three hours, tired as I was, for nothing, there's
+going to be more to it. What kind of a sack-and-snipe trick is this,
+anyway? You just come one at a time and I'll lick the stuffin' out o'
+both o' you! I ain't feelin' like any schoolboy pranks just now."
+
+"No, no; that part's all straight. Bransford's in there, all right,"
+protested Gurdon. "If you hadn't been working in the tunnel you'd have
+seen him when he went by. Here's the note he left. And his horse and
+saddle are up at the spring. We left the horse there because he was lame
+and about all in. Bransford can't get away on him. Rex is just
+excited--that's all the matter with him. Hankering for glory! I told him
+last night not to make a driveling idiot of himself. Here, read this
+insolent note, will you?"
+
+Long glowered at the note and flung it aside. "Anybody could 'a' wrote
+that! How am I to know this thing ain't some more of your funny streaks?
+You take these horses to water and bring back Bransford's horse and
+saddle, and then I'll know what to believe. Be damn sure you bring them,
+too, or we'll go to producing glory right here--great gobs and chunks of
+it! You Griffith! put down that gun or I'll knock your fool head off!
+I'm takin' charge of this outfit now, and don't you forget it! And I
+don't want no maniac wanderin' round me with a gun. You go to gatherin'
+up wood as fast as ever God'll let you!"
+
+"Say, I was mistaken," said the deposed leader, thoroughly convinced
+once more. "You do look like Bransford, you know." He laid down his
+rifle obediently.
+
+"Look like your grandmother's left hind foot!" sneered the outraged
+miner. "My eyes is brown and so's Bransford's. Outside o' that----"
+
+"No, but you do, a little," said his ally, Steele. "I noticed it myself,
+last night. Not much--but still there's a resemblance. Poor Cap Griffith
+just let his nerves and imagination run away with him--that's all."
+
+Long sniffed. "Funny I never heard of it before," he said. He was
+somewhat mollified, nevertheless; and, while cooking breakfast, he
+received very graciously a stammered and half-hearted apology from young
+Mr. Griffith, now reduced to the ranks. "Oh, that's all right, kid. But
+say--you be careful and don't shoot your pardner when he comes back."
+
+Gurdon brought back the sorrel horse and the saddle, thereby allaying
+Mr. Long's wrathful mistrust that the whole affair was a practical joke.
+
+"I told you butter wouldn't suit the works!" said Rex triumphantly, and
+watched the working of his test with a jealous eye.
+
+Long knew his Alice. "'But it was the best butter,'" he said. He
+surveyed the sorrel horse; his eye brightened. "We'll whack up that
+blood-money yet," he announced confidently. "Now I'm going to walk over
+to the south side and get one of those fellows to ride sign round the
+mountain. You boys can sleep, turn and turn about, till I get back. Then
+I want Steele to go to Escondido and wire up to Arcadia that we've got
+our bear by the tail and want help to turn him loose, and tell Pappy
+Sanders to send me out some grub or I'll skin him. Pappy's putting up
+for the mine, you know. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Griffith." He
+gave that luckless warrior a jeering look, as one who has forgiven but
+not forgotten.
+
+"Why don't you ride one of our horses?" said Gurdon.
+
+"Want to keep 'em fresh. Then if Bransford gets out over the cliffs you
+can run him down like a mad dog," said Tobe. "Besides, if I ride a fresh
+horse in here he'll maybe shoot me to get the horse; and if he could
+catch you lads away from shelter maybe so he'd make a dash for it,
+a-shootin'. See here! If I was dodgin' in here like him--know what I'd
+do? I'd just shoot a few lines on general principles to draw you away
+from the gates. Then if you went in to see about it I'd either kill you
+if I had to, or slip out if you give me the chance. You just stay right
+here, whatever happens. Keep under shelter and keep your horses right
+by you. We got him bottled up and we won't draw the cork till the
+sheriff comes. I'll tell 'em to do the same way at the other end. I
+won't take any gun with me and I'll stick to the big main road. That way
+Bransford won't feel no call to shoot me. Likely he's 'way up in the
+cliffs, anyhow."
+
+"Ride the sorrel horse then, why don't you? He isn't lame enough to hurt
+much, but he's lame enough that Bransford won't want him." Thus Mr.
+Griffith, again dissimulating. Every detail of Mr. Long's plan
+forestalled suspicion. That these measures were precisely calculated to
+disarm suspicion now occurred to Griffith's stubborn mind. For he had a
+stubborn mind; the morning's coffee had cleared it of cobwebs, and it
+clung more tenaciously than ever to the untenable and thrice-exploded
+theory that Long and Bransford were one and inseparable, now and
+forever.
+
+He meditated an ungenerous scheme for vindication and, to that end,
+wished Mr. Long to ride the sorrel horse. For Mr. Long, if he were
+indeed the murderer--as, of course, he was--would indubitably, upon some
+plausible pretext, attempt to pass the guards at the farther end of the
+trip, where was no clear-eyed Griffith on guard. What more plausible
+that a modification of the plan already rehearsed--for Long to tell the
+wardens that Griffith had sent him to telegraph to the sheriff? Let him
+once pass those warders on any pretext! That would be final betrayal,
+for all his shrewdness. There was no possibility that Long and Bransford
+could complete their escape on that lame sorrel. He would not be allowed
+to get much of a start--just enough to betray himself. Then he,
+Griffith, would bring them back in triumph.
+
+It was a good scheme: all things considered, it reflected great credit
+upon Mr. Griffith's imagination. As in Poe's game of "odd or even,"
+where you must outguess your opponent and follow his thought, Mr. Rex
+Griffith had guessed correctly in every respect. Such, indeed, had been
+Mr. Long's plan. Only Rex did not guess quite often enough. Mr. Long had
+guessed just one layer deeper--namely, that Mr. Griffith would follow
+his thought correctly and also follow him. Therefore Mr. Long switched
+again. It was a bully game--better than poker. Mr. Long enjoyed it very
+much.
+
+Just as Rex expected, Tobe allowed himself to be overpersuaded and rode
+the sorrel horse. He renamed the sorrel horse Goldie, on the spot,
+saddled him awkwardly, mounted in like manner, and rode into the shadowy
+depths of Double Mountain.
+
+Once he was out of sight Mr. Griffith followed, despite the angry
+protest of Mr. Steele--alleging falsely that he was going to try for a
+deer.
+
+Tobe rode slowly up the crooked and brush-lined cañon. Behind him,
+cautiously hidden, came Griffith, the hawk-eyed avenger--waiting at each
+bend until Mr. Long had passed the next one, for closer observation of
+how Mr. Long bore himself in solitude.
+
+Mr. Long bore himself most disappointingly. He rode slowly and
+awkwardly, scanning with anxious care the hillsides before him. Not once
+did he look back lest he should detect Mr. Griffith. Near the summit the
+Goldie horse shied and jumped. It was only one little jump, whereunto
+Goldie had been privately instigated by Mr. Long's thumb--"thumbing" a
+horse, as done by one conversant with equine anatomy, produces
+surprising results!--but it caught Mr. Long unawares and tumbled him
+ignominiously in the dust.
+
+Mr. Long sat in the sand and rubbed his shoulder: Goldie turned and
+looked down at him in unqualified astonishment. Mr. Long then cursed Mr.
+Bransford's sorrel horse; he cursed Mr. Bransford for bringing the
+sorrel horse; he cursed himself for riding the sorrel horse; he cursed
+Mr. Griffith, with one last, longest, heart-felt, crackling,
+hair-raising, comprehensive and masterly curse, for having persuaded him
+to ride the sorrel horse. Then he tied the sorrel horse to a bush and
+hobbled on afoot, saying it all over backward.
+
+Poor Griffith experienced the most intense mortification--except one--of
+his life. This was conclusive. Bransford was reputed the best rider in
+Rainbow. This was Long. He was convinced, positively, finally and
+irrevocably. He did not even follow Mr. Long to the other side of Double
+Mountain, but turned back to camp, keeping a sharp eye out for traces of
+the real Bransford; to no effect. It was only by chance--a real
+chance--that, clambering on the gatepost cliffs to examine a curious
+whorl of gneiss, he happened to see Mr. Long as he returned. Mr. Long
+came afoot, leading the sorrel horse. Just before he came within sight
+of camp he led the horse up beside a boulder, climbed clumsily into the
+saddle, clutched the saddle-horn, and so rode into camp. The act was so
+natural a one that Griffith, already convinced, was convinced again--the
+more so because Long preserved a discreet silence as to the misadventure
+with the sorrel horse.
+
+Mr. Long reported profanely that the men on the other side had also been
+disposed to arrest him, and had been dissuaded with difficulty.
+
+"So I guess I must look some like Bransford, though I would never 'a'
+guessed it. Reckon nobody knows what they really look like. Chances are
+a feller wouldn't know himself if he met him in the road. That squares
+you, kid. No hard feelings?"
+
+"Not a bit. I certainly thought you were Bransford, at first," said
+Griffith.
+
+"Well, the black-eyed one--Stone--he's coming round on the west side
+now, cutting sign. You be all ready to start for Escondido as soon as he
+gets here, Gurd. Say, you don't want to wait for the sheriff if he's up
+on Rainbow. You wire a lot of your friends to come on the train at nine
+o'clock to-night. Sheriff can come when he gets back. There ain't but a
+few horses at Escondido. You get Pappy Sanders to send your gang out in
+a wagon--such as can't find horses."
+
+"Better take in both of ours, Gurd," said Griffith. He knew Long was all
+right, as has been said, but he was also newly persuaded of his own
+fallibility. He had been mistaken about Long being Bransford; therefore
+he might be mistaken about Long being Long. In this spirit of humility
+he made the suggestion recorded above, and was grieved that Long
+indorsed it.
+
+"And I want you to do two errands for me, kid. You give this to Pappy
+Sanders--the storekeeper, you know"--here he produced the little
+eohippus from his pocket--"and tell him to send it to a jeweler for me
+and get a hole bored in it so it'll balance. Want to use it for a
+watch-charm when I get a watch. And if we pull off this Bransford affair
+I'll have me a watch. Now don't you lose that! It's turquoise--worth a
+heap o' money. Besides, he's a lucky little horse."
+
+"I'll put him in my pocketbook," said Gurdon.
+
+"Better give him to Pappy first off, else you're liable to forget about
+him, he's so small. Then you tell Pappy to send me out some grub. I
+won't make out no bill. He's grubstakin' the mine; he'll know what to
+send. You just tell him I'm about out of patience. Tell him I want about
+everything there is, and want it quick; and a jar for sour dough--I
+broke mine. And get some newspapers." He hesitated perceptibly. "See
+here, boys, I hate to mention this; but old Pappy, him and this Jeff
+Bransford is purty good friends. I reckon Pappy won't much like it to
+furnish grub for you while you're puttin' the kibosh on Jeff. You better
+get some of your own. You see how it is, don't you? 'Tain't like it was
+my chuck."
+
+Stone came while they saddled. He spoke apart with Griffith as to Mr.
+Long, and a certain favor he bore to the escaped bank-robber; but
+Griffith, admitting his own self-deception in that line, outlined the
+history of the past unhappy night. Stone, who had suffered only a slight
+misgiving, was fully satisfied.
+
+As Steele started for the railroad Mr. Stone set out to complete the
+circuit of Double Mountain, in the which he found no runaway tracks. And
+Griffith and Long, sleeping alternately--especially Griffith--kept
+faithful ward over the gloomy gate of Double Mountain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+FLIGHT
+
+     "Keep away from that wheelbarrow--what the hell do you know
+     about machinery?"--ELBERT HUBBARD.[B]
+
+[Footnote B: It is not intimated that Mr. Hubbard wrote this--merely
+that he printed it.--AUTHOR.]
+
+
+Just after dark a horseman with a led horse came jogging round the
+mountain on the trail from Escondido. On the led horse was a pack bound
+rather slouchily, not to a packsaddle, but to an old riding saddle. The
+horses were unwilling to enter the circle of firelight, so the rider
+drew rein just beyond--a slender and boyish rider, with a flopping
+wide-brimmed hat too large for him.
+
+"Oh, look who's here!" said Tobe, as one who greets an unexpected
+friend.
+
+"Hello, Tobe! Here's your food, grub, chuck and provisions! Got your
+outlaw yet? Them other fellows will be out along toward midnight." He
+went on without waiting for an answer: "Put me on your payroll. Pappy
+said I was to go to work--and if you was going to quit work to hunt down
+his friend you'd better quit for good. Lead on to your little old mine.
+I don't know where it is, even."
+
+"I'll go up and unpack, Rex," said Tobe; "but, of course, I'm not going
+to lose my part of that five thousand. Pappy's foolish. He's gettin'
+old. I'll be back after a while and bring down the papers."
+
+Chatting of the trapped outlaw, the Ophir men climbed the zigzag to the
+mine. To Griffith, their voices dwindled to an indistinct murmur; a
+light glowed through the tent on the dump.
+
+The stranger pressed into Jeff's hand something small and hard--the
+little eohippus. "Here's your little old token. Pappy caught on at once
+and he sent me along to represent. Let's get this pack off and get out
+of here. Do we have to go down the same trail again?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Jeff. "There's a wood-trail leads round the mountain to
+the east. Who're you? I don't know you."
+
+"Charley Gibson. Pappy knows me. He sent the little stone horse to vouch
+for me. I'm O. K. Time enough to explain when we've made a clean
+getaway."
+
+"You're damn right there," Jeff said. "That boy down yonder is nobody's
+fool. I'll light a candle in the tent and he'll think I'm reading the
+newspapers. That'll hold him a while."
+
+"I'll be going on down the trail," said Gibson. "This way, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, that's the one. All right. Go slow and don't make any more noise
+than you can help."
+
+Jeff would have liked his own proper clothing and effects, but there was
+no time for resuscitation. Lighting the candle, he acquired "Alice in
+Wonderland" and thrust it into the bosom of his shirt. It had been years
+since last he read that admirable work; his way now led either to hiding
+or to jail--and, with Alice to share his fate, he felt equal to either
+fortune. He left the candle burning: the tent shone with a mellow glow.
+
+"If he didn't hear our horses coming down we're a little bit of all
+right," said Jeff, as he rejoined his rescuer on the level. "Even if he
+does, he may think we've gone to hobble 'em--only he'd think we ought to
+water 'em first. Now for the way of the transgressor, to Old Mexico.
+This little desert'll be one busy place to-morrow!"
+
+They circled Double Mountain, making a wide détour to avoid rough going,
+and riding at a hard gallop until, behind and to their right, a red
+spark of fire came into view from behind a hitherto intervening
+shoulder, marking where Stone and Harlow held the southward pass.
+
+Jeff drew rein and bore off obliquely toward the road at an easy trot.
+
+"They're there yet. So that's all right!" he said. "They've just put on
+fresh wood. I saw it flame up just then." He was in high feather. He
+began to laugh, or, more accurately, he resumed his laughter, for he
+had been too mirthful for much speech. "That poor devil Griffith will
+wait and fidget and stew! He'll think I'm in the tent, reading the
+newspapers--reading about the Arcadian bank robbery, likely. He'll wait
+a while, then he'll yell at me. Then he'll think we've gone to hobble
+the horses. He won't want to leave the gap unguarded. He won't know what
+to think. Finally he'll go up to the mine and see that pack piled off
+any which way, and no saddles. Then he'll know, but he won't know what
+to do. He'll think we're for Old Mexico, but he won't know it for sure.
+And it's too dark to track us. Oh, my stars, but I bet he'll be mad!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Which shows that we all make mistakes. Mr. Griffith, though young, was
+of firm character, as has been lightly intimated. He waited a reasonable
+time to allow for paper-reading, then he waited a little longer and
+shouted; but when there was no answer he knew at once precisely what had
+happened: he had not been a fool at all, whatever Steele and Bransford
+had assured him, and he was a bigger fool to have allowed himself to be
+persuaded that he had been. It is true that he didn't know what was best
+to do, but he knew exactly what he was going to do--and did it promptly.
+Seriously annoyed, he spurred through Double Mountain, gathered up Stone
+and Harlow, and followed the southward road. Bransford had been on the
+way to Old Mexico--he was on that road still; Griffith put everything on
+the one bold cast. While the others saddled he threw fresh fuel on the
+fire, with a rankling memory of the candle in the deserted tent and
+Hannibal at Saint Jo. For the first time Griffith had the better of the
+long battle of wits. That armful of fuel slowed Jeff from gallop to
+trot, turned assured victory into a doubtful contest; when the fugitives
+regained the El Paso road Griffith's vindictive little band was not five
+miles behind them.
+
+The night was lightly clouded--not so dark but that the pursuers
+noticed--or thought they noticed--the fresh tracks in the road when they
+came to them. They stopped, struck matches and confirmed their hopes:
+two shod horses going south at a smart gait; the dirt was torn up too
+much for travelers on their lawful occasions. From that moment Griffith
+urged the chase unmercifully; the fleeing couple, in fancied security,
+lost ground with every mile.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"How on earth did you manage it? Didn't they know you?" demanded Gibson
+as the pace slackened.
+
+"It wasn't me! It was Tobe Long! 'You may not have lived much under the
+sea, and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster,'" quoted
+Jeff. Rocking in the saddle, he gave a mirthful résumé of his little
+evanishment. "And, oh, just think of that candle burning away in that
+quiet, empty tent! If I could have seen Griffith's face!" he gloated.
+"Oh me! Oh my!... And he was so sure!... Say, Gibson, how do you come in
+this galley?" As a lone prospector his speech had been fittingly coarse;
+now, with every mile, he shook off the debasing influence of Mr. Long.
+"Kettle-washing makes black hands. Aren't you afraid you'll get into
+trouble?"
+
+"Nobody knows I'm kettle-washing, except Pappy Sanders and you," said
+Gibson. "I was careful not to let your friend see me at the fire."
+
+"I'll do you a good turn sometime," said Jeff. He rode on in silence for
+a while and presently was lost in his own thoughts, leaning over with
+his hands folded on his horse's neck. In a low and thoughtful voice he
+half repeated, half chanted to himself:
+
+     "Illilleo Legardi, in the garden there alone,
+     There came to me no murmur of the fountain's undertone
+     So mystically, magically mellow as your own!"
+
+Another silence. Then Jeff roused himself, with a start.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Gibson, you'd better cut loose from me. So far as I
+can see, you are only a kid. You don't want to get mixed up in a murder
+scrape. This would go pretty hard with you if they can prove it on you.
+Of course, I'm awfully obliged to you and all that; but you'd better
+quit me while the quitting's good."
+
+"Oh, no; I'll see you through," said Gibson lightly. "Besides, I know
+you had nothing to do with the murder."
+
+"Oh, the hell you do!" said Jeff. "That's kind of you, I'm sure. See
+here, who'd sold you your chips, anyway? How'd you get in this game?"
+
+"I got in this game, as you put it, because I jolly well wanted to,"
+replied Charley, with becoming spirit. "That ought to be reason enough
+for anything in this country. Nothing against it in the rules--and I
+don't use the rules, anyhow. If you must have it all spelled out for
+you--I knew, or at least I'd heard, that your friends were away from
+Rainbow; so I judged you wouldn't go up there. Then I knew those four
+amateur Sherlocks--they're in my set in Arcadia. When two of the
+deerhunters, after starting at two A.M., came back to Arcadia the same
+morning they left, looking all wise and important, and slipped off on
+the train to Escondido, saying nothing to any one--and when the other
+two didn't come home at all--I began to think; went down to the depot,
+found they had gone to Escondido, and I came on the next train. I found
+out Pappy was your friend; and when he got your little hurry-up call I
+volunteered my services, seeing Pappy was too old and not footloose
+anyhow--with a wife and property. That's the how of it."
+
+"Oh, yes, that's all right; but what makes you think I'm innocent?"
+
+"I know Mr. White, you see. And Mr. White seems to think that at about
+the time the bank was robbed you were--in a garden!" Charley's voice was
+edged with faint mockery.
+
+"Huh!" said Jeff, startled. "Who in hell is Mr. White?"
+
+"Mr. White--in hell--is the devil!" said Charley.
+
+At this unexpected disclosure Jeff lashed his horse to a gallop--his
+spurs, you remember, being certain feet under the Ophir dump--and strove
+to bring his thoughts to bear upon this new situation. He slowed down
+and Charley drew up beside him.
+
+"You seem to have stayed quite a while--in a garden," suggested Charley.
+
+"That tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble yet," said Jeff.
+"You'll never live to be grayheaded."
+
+Charley was not to be daunted.
+
+"Say, Jeff, she's pretty easy to get acquainted with, what? And those
+eyes of hers--a little on the see-you-later style, aren't they?"
+
+Jeff turned in his saddle.
+
+"Now you look here, Mr. Charley Gibson! I'm under obligations to you,
+and so on--but I've heard all of that kind of talk that's good--_sabe_?"
+
+"Oh, I know her," persisted Charley. "Know her by heart--know her like a
+book. She made a fool of me, too. She drives 'em single, double, tandem,
+random and four abreast!"
+
+"You little beast!" Jeff launched his horse at the traducer, but Gibson
+spurred aside.
+
+"Stop now, Jeffy! Easy does it! I've got a gun!"
+
+"Shut your damn head then! Gun or no gun, don't you take that girl's
+name in your mouth again, or----Hark! What's that?"
+
+It was a clatter far behind--a ringing of swift hoofs on hard ground.
+
+"By George, they're coming! Griffith will be a man yet!" said Jeff
+approvingly. "Come on, kid; we've got to burn the breeze! I suppose that
+talk of yours is only your damn fool idea of fun, but I don't like it.
+Cut it out, now, and ride like a drunk Indian!" He laughed loud and
+long. "Think o' that candle, will you?--burning away with a clear,
+bright, steady flame, and nobody within ten miles of it!"
+
+They raced side by side; but Gibson, heedless of their perilous
+situation, or perhaps taking advantage of it, took a malicious delight
+in goading Jeff to madness; and he refused either to be silent or to
+talk about candles, notwithstanding Jeff's preference for that topic.
+
+"I'm not joking! I'm telling you for your own good." Here the tormentor
+prudently fell back half a length and raised his voice so as to be heard
+above the flying feet. "Hasn't she gone back to New York, I'd like to
+know, and left you to get out of it the best way you can? She could 'a'
+stayed if she'd wanted to. Don't tell me! Haven't I seen how she bosses
+her mother round? No, sir! She's willing to let you hang to save herself
+a little slander--or, more likely, a little talk!"
+
+Jeff whirled his horse to his haunches, but once more Gibson was too
+quick for him. Gibson's horse was naturally the nimbler of the two, even
+without the advantage of spurs.
+
+"That's a lie! She was going to tell--she was bound to tell; I made her
+keep silent. After I jumped out she couldn't well say anything. That's
+why I jumped. Was I going to make her a target for such vile tongues as
+yours--for me? Oh! You ought to be shot out of a red-hot cannon, through
+a barbed-wire fence, into hell! You lie, you coward, you know you lie!
+I'll cram it down your throat if you'll get off and throw that gun
+down!"
+
+"Yah! It's likely I'll put the gun down!" scoffed Gibson. "Ride on, you
+fool! Do you want to hang? Ride on and keep ahead! Remember, I've got
+the gun!"
+
+"Hanging's not so bad," snarled Jeff. "I'd rather be hung decently than
+be such a thing as you! Oh, if I just had a gun!"
+
+The sound of pursuit was clearer now; and, of course, the pursuers could
+hear the pursued as well and fought for every inch.
+
+Jeff rode on, furious at his helplessness. For several miles his
+tormentor raced behind in silence, fearing, if he persisted longer in
+his evil course, that Jeff would actually stop and give himself up. They
+gained now on their pursuers, who had pressed their horses overhard to
+make up the five-mile handicap.
+
+As they came to a patch of sandy ground they eased the pace somewhat.
+Charley drew a little closer to Jeff.
+
+"Now don't get mad. I had no idea you thought so much of the girl----"
+
+"Shut up, will you?"
+
+"----or I wouldn't have deviled you so. I'll quit. How was I to know
+you'd stop to fight for her with the very rope round your neck? It's a
+pity she'll never know about it.... You can't have seen her more than
+two or three times--and Heaven only knows where that was! On that
+camping trip, I reckon. What kind of a girl is she, anyhow, to hold
+clandestine interviews with a stranger?... She'll write to you by and
+by--a little scented note, with a little stilted, meaningless word of
+thanks. No, she won't. It'll be gushy: 'Oh, my hero! How can I ever
+repay you?' She won't let you out of her clutches--anybody, so long as
+it's a man! Here! None o' that!... Go on, now, if you want to live!"
+
+"_Who the hell wants to live?_"
+
+A noose flew back from the darkness. Jeff's horse darted aside and
+Gibson was jerked sprawling to the sand at a rope's end--hat flew one
+way, gun another. Jeff ran to the six-shooter.
+
+"Who's got the gun now?" he jeered, as he loosened the rope. "I only
+wish we had two of 'em!"
+
+"You harebrained idiot!" Charley grabbed up his hat and spit sand from
+his mouth. "Get your horse and ride, you unthinkable donkey!"
+
+"Pleasure first, business afterward!" Jeff unbuckled Gibson's gunbelt
+and transferred it to his own waist, jerking Gibson to his feet in the
+violent process. "Now, you little blackguard, you either take back all
+that or you'll get the lickin' o' your life! You're too small; but all
+the same----"
+
+"Oh, I'll take it back, you big bully--all I said and a lot more I only
+thought!" said Charley spitefully. He was almost crying with rage as he
+limped to his horse. "She's an angel on earth! Sure she is! Ride, you
+maniac--ride! Oh, you ought to be hung! I hope you do hang--you
+miserable ruffian!"
+
+The following hoofs no longer rang sharply; they took on a muffled
+beat--they were in the sand's edge not a mile behind.
+
+"Ride ahead, you! I've got the gun, remember!" observed Jeff
+significantly; "but if you slur that girl again I'll not shoot you--I'll
+naturally wear you out with this belt."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+GOOD-BY
+
+     "They have ridden the low moon out of the sky; their hoofs drum
+     up the dawn."--_Two Strong Men_, KIPLING.
+
+
+"I'm not speaking of her and I'm not going to," protested Gibson, in a
+changed tone. "I'll promise! My horse is failing, Jeff. I rode hard and
+fast from Escondido. Your horse carried nothing much but a saddle--that
+pack was mostly bluff, you know. And those fellows' horses have come
+twenty miles less than either of ours."
+
+No answer.
+
+"I don't believe we're going to make it, Jeff!" There was a forlorn
+little quaver in Charley's voice.
+
+Jeff grunted. "Uh! Maybe not. Griffith'll be real pleased."
+
+Gibson rode closer. "Can't we turn off the road and hide?"
+
+"Till daylight," said Jeff. "Then they'll get us. No way out of this
+desert except across the edges somewhere. You go if you want to. They
+won't bother to hunt for you, maybe, if they get me."
+
+"No. It's my fault.... I'll see it out.... I'm sorry, Jeff--but it was
+so funny!" Here, rather to Jeff's surprise, Charley's dejection gave
+place to laughter.
+
+They rode up a sandy slope where mesquites grew black along the road.
+Blown sand had lodged to hummocks in their thick and matted growth; the
+road was a sunken way.
+
+"How far is it from here, Jeff?"
+
+"Ten miles--maybe only eight--to the river. We're in Texas now--have
+been for an hour."
+
+"Think we can make it?"
+
+"_Quien sabe?_"
+
+Gibson drew rein. "You go on. Your horse isn't so tired."
+
+"Oh, I guess not!" said Jeff. "Come on."
+
+The sound of pursuit came clear through the quiet night. There was
+silence for a little.
+
+"What'll you do, Jeff? Fight?"
+
+"I can't!" said Jeff. "Hurt those boys? I couldn't fight, the way it
+is--hardly, even if 'twas the sheriff. I'll just hang, I reckon."
+
+They reached the top of the little slope and turned down the other side.
+
+"I don't altogether like this hanging idea," said Gibson. "I got you
+into this, Jeff; so I'll just get you out again--like the man in our
+town who was so wondrous wise. Going to use bramble bushes, too."
+Volatile Gibson, in the stress of danger, had forgotten his wrath. He
+was light-hearted and happy, frivolously gay. "Give me your rope and
+your gun, Jeff. Quick now! No, I won't mention your girl--not once!
+Hurry!"
+
+"What you going to do?" asked Jeff, thoroughly mystified.
+
+"Ever read the 'Fool's Errand'?" Charley chuckled. "No? Well, I have.
+Jump off and tie the end of your rope to that mesquite root. Quick!"
+
+He sprang down, snatched one end of the coil from Jeff's hand and
+stretched it taut across the road, a foot from the ground. "Now your
+gun! Quick!"
+
+He snatched the gun, tied an end of his own saddle-rope to the stretched
+one, near the middle, plunged through the mesquite, over a hummock,
+paying out his rope as he went; wedged the gun firmly in the springing
+crotch of a mesquite tree, cocked it and tied the loose end of the
+trailing rope to the trigger. He ran back and sprang on his horse.
+
+"Now ride! It's our last chance!"
+
+"Kid, you're a wonder!" said Jeff. "You'll do to take along! They'll
+lope up when they turn down that slope, hit that rope and pile in a
+heap!"
+
+"And my rope will fire the gun off!" shrilled joyous Charley. "They'll
+think it's us--an ambuscade----"
+
+"They'll take to the sand-hills," Jeff broke in. "They'll shoot into the
+bushes--they'll think it's us firing back, half the time.... They'll
+scatter out and surround that lonesome, harmless motte and watch it till
+daylight. You bet they won't go projecting round it any till daylight,
+either!" He looked up at the sky. "There's the morning star. See it?
+'They have ridden the low moon out of the sky'--only there isn't any
+moon--'their hoofs drum up the dawn.' Then they'll find our tracks--and
+if I only could see the captain's face! 'Oh, my threshings, and the corn
+of my floor!'... And by then we'll be in Mexico and asleep.... When
+Griffith finds that gun--oh, he'll never show his head in Arcadia
+again!... Say, Charley, I hope none of 'em get hurt when they strike
+your skip-rope."
+
+"Huh! It's sandy! A heap you cared about me getting hurt when you
+dragged me from my horse!" said Gibson, rather snappishly. "You did hurt
+me, too. You nearly broke my neck and you cut my arms. And I got full of
+mesquite thorns when I set that gun. You don't care! I'm only the man
+that came to save your neck. That's the thanks I get! But the men that
+are trying to hang you--that's different! You'd better go back. They
+might get hurt. You'll be sorry sometime for the way you've treated me.
+There--it's too late now!"
+
+A shot rang behind them. There was a brief silence. Then came a sharp
+fusillade, followed by scattering shots, dwindling to longer intervals.
+
+Jeff clung to his saddle-horn.
+
+"I guess they ain't hurt much," he laughed. "Wish I could see 'em when
+they find out! Slow down, kid. We've got lots of time now."
+
+"We haven't," protested Charley. "Keep moving. It's hard on the horses,
+but they'll have a lifetime to rest in. They've telegraphed all over the
+country. You want to cross the river before daylight. It would be too
+bad for you to be caught now! Is there any ford, do you know?"
+
+"Not this time of year. River's up."
+
+"Cross in a boat then?"
+
+"Guess we'd better. That horse of yours is pretty well used up. Don't
+believe he could swim it."
+
+"Oh, I'm not going over. I'll get up to El Paso. I've got friends
+there."
+
+"You'll get caught."
+
+"No, I won't. I'm not going across, I tell you, and that's all there is
+to it! I guess I'll have something to say about things. I'm going to see
+you safely over, and that's the last you'll ever see of Charley Gibson."
+
+"Oh, well!" Jeff reflected a little. "If you're sure you won't come
+along, I'd rather swim. My horse is strong yet. You see, it takes time
+to find a boat, and a boat means a house and dogs; and I'll need my
+horse on the other side. How'll you get to El Paso? Griffith'll likely
+come down here about an hour by sun, 'cross lots, a-cryin'."
+
+"I'll manage that," said Gibson curtly enough. "You tend to your own
+affair."
+
+"Oh, all right!" Jeff rode ahead. He whistled; then he chanted his war
+song:
+
+     "Said the little Eohippus:
+       'I'm going to be a horse!
+     And on my middle fingernails
+       To run my earthly course!'
+     The Coryphodon was horrified;
+       The Dinoceras was shocked;
+     And they chased young Eohippus,
+       But he skipped away and mocked.
+
+     "Said they: 'You always were as small
+       And mean as now we see,
+     And that's conclusive evidence
+       That you're always going to be.
+     What! Be a great, tall, handsome beast,
+       With hoofs to gallop on?
+     Why! You'd have to change your nature!'
+       Said the Loxolophodon."
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+"Well?" Jeff turned his head. Charley was drooping visibly.
+
+"Stop that foolish song!"
+
+Jeff rode on in silence. This was a variable person, Gibson. They were
+dropping down from the mesa into the valley of the Rio Grande.
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+Jeff fell back beside Charley. "Tired, pardner?"
+
+"Jeff, I'm terribly tired! I'm not used to riding so far; and I'm
+sleepy--so sleepy!"
+
+"All right, pardner; we'll go slower. We'll walk. Most there now.
+There's the railroad."
+
+"Keep on trotting. I can stand it. We must get to the river before
+daylight. Is it far?" Charley's voice was weary. The broad sombrero
+drooped sympathetically.
+
+"Two miles to the river. El Paso's seven or eight miles up the line.
+Brace up, old man! You've done fine and dandy! It's just because the
+excitement is all over. Why should you go any farther, anyhow? There's
+Ysleta up the track a bit. Follow the road up there and flag the first
+train. That'll be best."
+
+"No, no. I'll go all the way. I'll make out." Charley straightened
+himself with an effort.
+
+They crossed the Espee tracks and came to a lane between cultivated
+fields.
+
+"Jeff! I'd like to say something. It won't be breaking my promise
+really.... I didn't mean what I said about--you know. I was only
+teasing. She's a good enough girl, I guess--as girls go."
+
+Jeff nodded. "I did not need to be told that."
+
+"And you left her in a cruel position when you jumped out of the
+window. She _can't_ tell now, so long as there's any other way. What a
+foolish thing to do! If you'd just said at first that you were in the
+garden----Oh, why didn't you? But after the chances you took rather than
+to tell--why, Jeff, it would be terrible for her now."
+
+"I know that, too," said Jeff. "I suppose I was a fool; but I didn't
+want her to get mixed up with it, and at the same time I cared less
+about hanging than any time I can remember. You see, I didn't know till
+the last minute that the garden was going to cut any figure. And do you
+suppose I'd have that courthouseful of fools buzzing and whispering at
+her? Not much! Maybe it was foolish--but I'm glad I did it."
+
+"I'm glad of it, too. If you had to be a fool," said Charley, "I'm glad
+you were that kind of a fool. Are you still mad at me?"
+
+Since Charley had recanted, and more especially since he had taken
+considerate thought for the girl's compulsory silence, Jeff's anger had
+evaporated.
+
+"That's all right, pardner.... Only you oughtn't never to talk that way
+about a girl--even for a joke. That's no good kind of a joke. Men, now,
+that's different. See here, I'll give you an order to a fellow in El
+Paso--Hibler--to pay for your horses and your gun. Here's your belt,
+too."
+
+Charley shook his head impatiently. "I don't want any money. Settle
+with Pappy for the horses. I won't take this one back. Keep the belt.
+You may want it to beat me with sometime. What are you going to do,
+Jeff? Aren't you ever coming back?"
+
+"Sure I'll come back--if only to see Griffith again. I'll write to John
+Wesley Pringle--he's my mainest side pardner--and sick him on to find
+out who robbed that bank--to prove it, rather. I just about almost
+nearly know who it was. Old Wes'll straighten things out a-flying. I'll
+be back in no time. I got to come back, Charley!"
+
+The river was in sight. The stars were fading; there was a flush in the
+east, a smell of dawn in the air.
+
+"Jeff, I wish you'd do something for me."
+
+"Sure, Charley. What is it?"
+
+"I wish you'd give me that little turquoise horse to remember you by."
+
+Jeff was silent for a little. He had framed out another plan for the
+little eohippus--namely, to give him to Miss Ellinor. He sighed; but he
+owed a good deal to Charley.
+
+"All right, Charley. Take good care of him--he's a lucky little horse. I
+think a heap of him. Here we are!"
+
+The trees were distinct in the growing light. Jeff rode into the river;
+the muddy water swirled about his horse's knees. He halted for parting;
+Gibson rode in beside him. Jeff took the precious Alice book from his
+bosom, put it in the crown of his miner's cap and jammed the cap tightly
+on his head.
+
+"Better change your mind, Charley. Come along. We'll rout somebody out
+and order a dish of stewed eggs.
+
+     "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
+     The farther off from England the nearer 'tis to France;
+     Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
+     Will you--won't you----"
+
+"'No, I won't! I told you once!'" snapped the beloved snail.
+
+"Here's the little eohippus horse then." As Charley took it Jeff wrung
+his hand. "By George, I've got to change my notion of Arcadia people. If
+there's many like you and Griffith, Arcadia's going to crowd the map!...
+Well--so long!"
+
+"It looks awful wide, Jeff!"
+
+"Oh, I'll be all right--swim it myself if the horse plays out--and if I
+don't have no cramps, as I might, of course, after this ride. Well--here
+goes nothin'! Take care of the little horse. I hope he brings you good
+luck!"
+
+"Well--so long, then!"
+
+Bransford rode into the muddy waters. They came to the horse's breast,
+his neck; he plunged in, sank, rose, and was borne away down the swift
+current, breasting the flood stoutly--and so went quartering across to
+the farther bank. It took a long time. It was quite light when the horse
+found footing on a sandbar half a mile below, rested, and splashed
+whitely through the shallows to the bank. Gibson swung his sombrero.
+Jeff waved his hand, rode to the fringing bushes, and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE LAND OF AFTERNOON
+
+     "Dreaming once more love's old sad dream divine."
+
+
+Los Baños de Santa Eulalia Del Norte, otherwise known as Mud Springs, is
+a Mexican hamlet with one street of about the same length. Los Baños and
+Co. lies in a loop of the Rio Grande, half of a long day from El Paso,
+in mere miles; otherwise a contemporary of Damascus and Arpad.
+
+Thither, mindful of the hot springs which supply the preliminaries of
+the name, Mr. Bransford made his way: mindful too, of sturdy old Don
+Francisco, a friend twice bound by ancient service given and returned.
+
+He climbed the slow long ridges to the high _mesa_: for the river bent
+here in a long ox-bow, where a bold promontory shouldered far out to bar
+the way: weary miles were to be saved by crossing the neck of this
+ox-bow, and the tough horse tired and lagged.
+
+The slow sun rose as he reached the Rim. It showed the wide expanse of
+desert behind him, flooded with trembling light; eastward, beyond the
+river, the buttressed and fantastic peaks of Fray Cristobal; their
+jutting shadows streaming into the gulf beyond, athwart the silvery
+ribbon of gleaming water, twining in mazy loops across the valley floor:
+it showed the black Rim at his feet, a frowning level wall of lava
+cliff, where the plain broke abruptly into the chasm beneath; the iron
+desolation of the steep sides, boulder-strewn, savage and forbidding:
+
+     "_A land of old up-heaven from the abyss._"
+
+Long since, there had been a flourishing Mexican town in the valley. A
+wagonroad had painfully climbed a long ridge to the Rim, twisting,
+doubling, turning, clinging hazardously to the hillside, its outer edge
+a wall built up with stone, till it came to the shoulder under the
+tremendous barrier. From there it turned northward, paralleling the Rim
+in mile-long curve above a deep gorge; turning, in a last desperate
+climb, to a solitary gateway in the black wall, torn out by flood-waters
+through slow centuries. Smallpox had smitten the people; the treacherous
+river had devastated the fertile valley, and, subsiding, left the rich
+fields a waste of sand. The town was long deserted; the disused road was
+gullied and torn by flood, the soil washed away, leaving a heaped and
+crumbled track of tangled stone. But it was the only practicable way as
+far as the sand-hills, and Jeff led his horse down the ruined path,
+with many a turning back and scrambling détour.
+
+The shadows of the eastern hills drew back before him as he reached the
+sand-dunes. When he rode through the silent streets of what had been
+Alamocita, the sun peered over Fray Cristobal, gilding the crumbling
+walls, where love and laughter had made music, where youth and hope and
+happiness had been.... Silent now and deserted, given over to lizard and
+bat and owl, the smiling gardens choked with sand and grass, springing
+with _mesquite_ and _tornillo_; a few fruit trees, gnarled and tangled,
+drooping for days departed, when young mothers sang low lullaby beneath
+their branches.... Passed away and forgotten--hopes and fears, tears and
+smiles, birth and death, joy and sorrow, hatred and sin and shame,
+falsehood and truth and courage and love. The sun shone cheerfully on
+these gray ruins--as it has shone on a thousand such, and will shine.
+
+Jeff turned down the river, past the broken _acequias_, to where a
+massive spur of basaltic rock had turned the fury of the floods and
+spared a few fields. In this sheltered cove dwelt Don Francisco Escobar
+in true pastoral and patriarchal manner; his stalwart sons and
+daughters, with their sons and daughters in turn, in clustering _adobes_
+around him: for neighbors, the allied family of Gonzales y Ortega.
+
+A cheerful settlement, this of Los Baños, nestling at the foot of the
+friendly rampart, sheltered alike from flood and wind. South and west
+the close black Rim walled the horizon, the fantasy of Fray Cristobal
+closed in the narrow east: but northward, beyond the low sand-hills and
+the blue heat-haze, the high peaks of Organ, Guadalupe and Rainbow swam
+across the sleepy air, far and soft and dim.
+
+In their fields the _gente_ of Gonzales y Ortega and of Escobar raised
+ample crops of alfalfa, wheat, corn, _frijoles_ and _chili_, with
+orchard, vineyard and garden. Their cows, sheep and goats grazed the
+foothills between river and Rim, watched by the young men or boys,
+penned nightly in the great corrals in the old Spanish fashion; as if
+the Moor still swooped and forayed. Their horses roamed the hills at
+will, only a few being kept in the alfalfa pasture. They ground their
+own grain, tanned their cow-hides at home. Mattress and pillow were wool
+of their raising, their blankets and cloth their own weave. There were
+granaries, a wine-press, a forge, a cumbrous stone mill, a great _adobe_
+oven like a monstrous bee-hive.
+
+Once a year their oxen drew the great high-sided wagons up the sandy
+road to El Paso, and returned with the year's marketing--salt, axes,
+iron and steel, powder and lead, bolts of white domestic or _manta_ for
+sheets and shirtings, matches, tea, coffee, tobacco and sugar. Perhaps,
+if the saints had been kind, there were a few ribbons, trinkets or
+brightly colored prints of Joseph and Virgin and Child, St. John the
+Beloved, The Annunciation, The Children and Christ; perhaps an American
+rifle or a plow. But, for the most part, they held not with innovations;
+plowed, sowed and reaped as their fathers did, threshing with oxen or
+goats.
+
+The women sewed by hand, cooked on fireplaces; or, better still, in the
+open air under the trees, with few and simple utensils. The family ate
+from whitest and cleanest of sheepskins spread on the floor. But, the
+walls were snowy with whitewash, the earthen floors smooth and clean,
+the coarse linen fresh and white. The scant furniture of the rooms--a
+pine bed, a chair or two, a mirror, a brass candlestick (with home-made
+candles), a cheap print on the wall, a great chest for clothes, blankets
+and simple treasures, the bright fire in the cozy fireplace--all
+combined to give an indescribable air of cheerfulness, of homely comfort
+and of rest. This quiet corner, where people still lived as simply as
+when Abraham went up from Ur of the Chaldees, in the spring-time of the
+world, held, for seeing eyes, an incommunicable charm.
+
+When Jeff came at last to Casa Escobar, the cattle were already on the
+hills, the pigs and chickens far afield. Don Francisco, white-haired,
+erect, welcomed him eagerly, indeed, but with stately courtesy.
+
+"Is it thou indeed, my son? Now, my old eyes are gladdened this day.
+Enter, then, _amigo mio_, thrice-welcome--the house is thine in very
+truth. Nay, the young men shall care for thy horse."
+
+He raised his voice. Three tall sons, Abran, Zenobio, Donociano, came at
+the summons, gave Bransford grave greeting, and stood to await their
+father's commands. Fathers of families themselves, they presumed not to
+sit unbidden, to join in the conversation, or to loiter.
+
+Breakfast was served presently, in high state, on the table reserved for
+honored guests. Savory venison, chili, fish, eggs, _tortillas_, _etole_,
+_enchiladas_, cream and steaming coffee--such was the fare. Don
+Francisco sat gravely by to bear him company, while a silently hovering
+damsel anticipated every need.
+
+Thence, when his host could urge no more upon him, to the deep
+shading cottonwoods. Wine was brought and the "makings" of XXXX
+cigarettes--corn-husks, handcut; a great jar of tobacco; and a brazier
+of mesquite embers. At a little distance women washed, wove or sewed;
+the young men made buckskin, fashioned quirts, whips, ropes,
+bridle-reins, tie-straps, hobbles, pack-sacks and _chaparejos_ of
+raw-hide; made cinches of horse-hair; wrought ox-yokes, plow-beams and
+other things needful for their simple husbandry.
+
+Meanwhile, Don Francisco entertained his guest with grave and leisurely
+recital of the year's annals. Mateo, son of Sebastian, had slain a great
+bear in the Pass of All the Winds; Alicia, daughter of their eldest, was
+wed with young Roman de la O, of Cañada Nogales, to the much healing of
+feud and ancient hatred; Diego, son of Eusebio, was proving a bold and
+fearless rider of wild horses, with reason, as behooved his father's
+son; he had carried away the _gallo_ at the _Fiesta de San Juan_, with
+the fleet dun colt "creased" from the wild bunch at Quemado; the herds
+had grown, the crops prospered, all sorrow passed them by, through the
+intercession of the blessed saints.
+
+The year's trophies were brought. He fingered with simple pride the
+great pelt of the silver-tip. Antlers there were and lion-skins,
+gleaming prisms of quartz, flint arrowheads and agates brought in by the
+shepherds, the costly Navajo blanket won by the fleet-limbed dun at
+Cañada races.
+
+Hither came presently another visitor--Florentino, breaker of wild
+horses, despite his fifty years; wizened and withered and small, merry
+and cheerful, singer of forgotten folk-songs; chanting, even as he came,
+the song of Macario Romero--Macario, riding joyous and light-hearted,
+spite of warning, omen and sign, love-lured to doom and death.
+
+     "'Concedame una licencia
+       Voy á ir á ver á me Chata.'
+
+     "Dice Macario Romero,
+       Parando en los estribos:
+     'Madre, pues, esto voy á ver,
+       Si todos son mis amigos!'"
+
+And so, listening, weary and outworn, Jeff fell asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Observe now, how Nature insists upon averages. Mr. Jeff Bransford was,
+as has been seen, an energetic man; but outraged nerves will have their
+revenge. After making proper amends to his damaged eye, Jeff's remnant
+of energy kept up long enough to dispatch young Tomas Escobar y Mendoza
+to El Paso with a message to Hibler: which message enjoined Hibler at
+once to carry tidings to John Wesley Pringle, somewhere in Chihuahua,
+asking him kindly to set right what Arcadian times were out of joint, as
+he, Jeff, felt the climate of Old Mexico more favorable for his throat
+trouble than that of New Mexico; with a postscript asking Hibler for
+money by bearer. And young Tomas was instructed to buy, at Juarez, a
+complete outfit of clothing for Jeff, including a gun.
+
+This done, the reaction set in--aided, perhaps, by the enervating
+lassitude of the hot baths and the sleepy atmosphere of that forgotten
+village. Jeff spent the better part of a week asleep, or half awake at
+best. He had pleasant dreams, too. One--perhaps the best dream of
+all--was that on their wedding trip they should follow again the devious
+line of his flight from Arcadia. That would need a prairie schooner--no,
+a prairie steamboat--a prairie yacht! He would tell her all the hideous
+details--show her the mine, the camp of the besiegers, the ambuscade on
+the road. And if he could have Ellinor meet Griffith and Gibson for a
+crowning touch!
+
+After the strenuous violence of hand-strokes, here was a drowsy and
+peaceful time. The wine of that land was good, the shade pleasant, the
+Alician philosophy more delightful than of yore; he had all the
+accessories, but one, of an earthly paradise.
+
+Man is ungrateful. Jeff was a man; neglectful of present bounties, his
+dreaming thoughts were all of the absent accessory and of a time when
+that absence should be no more, nor paradise be empty.
+
+Life, like the Gryphon's classical master, had taught him Laughter and
+Grief. He turned now the forgotten pages of the book of his years.
+Enough black pages were there; as you will know well, having yourself
+searched old records before now, with tears. He cast up that long
+account--the wasted lendings, the outlawed debts, the dishonored
+promises, the talents of his stewardship, unprofitable and brought to
+naught; set down--how gladly!--the items on the credit side. So men have
+set the good upon one side and the evil on the other since Crusoe's
+day, and before; against the time when the Great Accountant, Whose
+values are not ours, shall strike a final balance.
+
+Take that book at your elbow--yes, either one; it doesn't matter. Now
+turn to where the hero first discovers his frightful condition--long
+after it has become neighborhood property.... He bent his head in
+humility. He was not worthy of her!... Something like that? Those may
+not be the precise words; but he groaned. He always groans. By-the-way,
+how this man-saying must amuse womankind! Yes, and they actually say it
+too--real, live, flesh-and-blood men. Who was it said life was a poor
+imitation of literature? Happily, either these people are insincere or
+they reconsider the matter--else what should we do for families?
+
+It is to be said that Jeff Bransford lacked this becoming delicacy. If
+he groaned he swore also; if he decided that Miss Ellinor Hoffman
+deserved a better man than he was, he also highly resolved that she
+should not have him.
+
+"For, after all, you know," said Jeff to Alice:
+
+     "I'm sure he's nothing extra--a quiet man and plain,
+     And modest--though there isn't much of which he could be vain.
+     And had I mind to chant his praise, this were the kindest line--
+     Somehow, she loves him dearly--this little love of mine!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+TWENTIETH CENTURY
+
+     "And there that hulking Prejudice
+       Sat all across the road.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "I took my hat, I took my coat,
+       My load I settled fair,
+     I approached that awful incubus
+       With an absent-minded air--
+     And I walked directly through him
+       As if he wasn't there!"
+
+                         --_An Obstacle_:
+                              CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON.
+
+
+Johnny Dines rode with a pleasant jingle down the shady street of Los
+Baños de Santa Eulalia del Norte. His saddle was new, carven, wrought
+with silver; his bridle shone as the sun, his spurs as bright stars; he
+shed music from his feet. Jeff saw him turn to Casa Escobar: apple
+blossoms made a fragrant lane for him. He paused at Jeff's tree.
+
+"_Alto alli!_" said Johnny. The words, as sharp command, can be managed
+in two brisk syllables. The sound is then: "_Altwai!_" It is a crisp and
+startling sound, and the sense of it in our idiom is: "Hands up!"
+
+Jeff had been taking a late breakfast _al fresco_; he made glad room on
+his bench.
+
+"Light, stranger, and look at your saddle! Pretty slick saddle, too.
+Guess your playmates must 'a' went home talking to themselves last
+night."
+
+"They're going to kill a maverick for you at Arcadia and give a
+barbecue," said Johnny. The cult of _nil admirari_ reaches its highest
+pitch of prosperity in the cow-countries, and Johnny knew that it was
+for him to broach tidings unasked.
+
+"Oh, that reminds me--how's old Lars Porsena?" said Jeff, now free to
+question.
+
+"Him? He's all right," said Johnny casually. "Goin' to marry one or more
+of the nurses. They're holdin' elimination contests now."
+
+"Say, Johnny, when you go back, I wish you'd tell him I didn't do it.
+Cross my heart and hope to die if I did!"
+
+"Oh, he knows it wasn't you!" said Johnny.
+
+Jeff shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Evidence was pretty strong--pretty strong! Who was it then?"
+
+"Why, Lake himself--the old hog!"
+
+"If Lake keeps on like this he's going to have people down on him," said
+Jeff. "Who did the holmesing--John Wesley?"
+
+"Oh, John Wesley! John Wesley!" said Dines scornfully. "You think the
+sun rises and sets in old John Wesley Pringle. Naw; he didn't get back
+till it was all over. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little
+hatchet!"
+
+"Must have had it sharpened up!" said Jeff. "Tell it to me!"
+
+"Why, there isn't much to tell," said Dines, suddenly modest. "Come to
+think of it, I had right considerable help. There was a young college
+chap--he first put it into my head that it wasn't you."
+
+"That would be the devil?" said Jeff, ignoring the insult.
+
+"Just so. Name's White--and so's he: Billy White, S. M. and G. P."
+
+"I don't just remember them degrees," said Jeff.
+
+"Aw, keep still and you'll hear more. They stand for Some Man and Good
+People. Well, as I was a-saying, Billy he seemed to think it wasn't you.
+He stuck to it that Buttinski--that's what he calls you--was in a garden
+just when the bank was robbed."
+
+Johnny contemplated the apple tree over his head. It was a wandering and
+sober glance, but a muscle twitched in his cheek, and he made no further
+explanation about the garden.
+
+"And then I remembered about Nigger Babe throwin' you off, and I began
+to think maybe you didn't crack the safe after all. And there was some
+other things--little things--that made Billy and Jimmy Phillips--he was
+takin' cards in the game too--made 'em think maybe it was Lake; but it
+wasn't no proof--not to say proof. And there's where I come in."
+
+"Well?" said Jeff, as Johnny paused.
+
+"Simple enough, once you knowed how," said Johnny modestly. "I'd been
+reading lots of them detective books--Sherlock Holmes and all them
+fellows. I got Billy to have his folks toll Lake's sister away for the
+night, so she wouldn't be scared. Then me and Billy and Jimmy Phillips
+and Monte, we broke in and blowed up Lake's private safe. No trouble at
+all. Since the bank-robbin' every one had been tellin' round just how it
+ought to be done--crackin' safes. Funny how a fellow picks up little
+scraps of useful knowledge like that--things you'd think he'd remember
+might come in handy most any time--and then forgets all about 'em. I
+wrote it down this time. Won't forget it again."
+
+"Well?" said Jeff again.
+
+"Oh, yes. And there was the nice money--all the notes and all of the
+gold he could tote."
+
+Jeff's eye wandered to the new saddle.
+
+"I kept some of the yellow stuff as a souvenir--half a quart, or maybe a
+pint," said Johnny. "I don't want no reward for doin' a good deed....
+And that's all."
+
+"Lake is a long, ugly word," said Jeff thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, what do you say?" prompted Johnny.
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Jeff. "You showed marvelous
+penetration--marvelous! But say, Johnny, if the money hadn't been there
+wouldn't that have been awkward?"
+
+"Oh, Billy was pretty sure Lake was the man. And we figured he hadn't
+bothered to move it--you being the goat that way. What made you be a
+goat, Jeff? That whole performance was the most idiotic break I ever
+knew a grown-up man to get off. I knew you were not strictly
+accountable, but why didn't you say, 'Judge, your Honor, sir, at the
+time the bank was being robbed I was in a garden with a young lady,
+talking about the hereafter, the here and the heretofore?'"
+
+"On the contrary, what made your Billy think it was Lake?"
+
+Johnny told him, in detail.
+
+"Pretty good article of plain thinking, wasn't it?" he concluded. "Yet
+he mightn't have got started on the right track at all if he hadn't had
+the straight tip about your bein' in a garden." Johnny's eye reverted to
+the apple tree. "Lake found your noseguard, you know, where you left it.
+I reckon maybe he saw you leave it there.--Say, Jeff! Lake's grandfather
+must have been a white man. Anyhow, he's got one decent drop of blood in
+him, from somewhere. For when we arrested him, he didn't say a word
+about the garden. That was rather a good stunt, I think. Bully for
+Lake, just once!"
+
+"Right you are! And, Mr. J. Dines, I've been thinking----" Jeff began.
+
+Johnny glanced at him anxiously.
+
+"----and I've about come to the conclusion that we're some narrow
+contracted and bigoted on Rainbow. We don't know it all. We ain't the
+only pebble. From what I've seen of these Arcadia men they seem to be
+pretty good stuff--and like as not it's just the same way all along the
+beach. There's your Mr. White, and Griffith, and Gibson--did I tell you
+about Gibson?"
+
+Johnny flashed a brilliant smile. His smiles always looked larger than
+they really were, because Johnny was a very small man.
+
+"I saw Griffith and he gave me his version--several times. He's real
+upset, Griffith.... Last time he told me, he leaned up against my neck
+and wept because there was only ten commandments!"
+
+"Didn't see Gibson, did you? You know him?"
+
+"Nope. Pappy picked him up--or he picked Pappy up, rather. Hasn't been
+seen since. I guess Gibby, old boy, has gone to the wild bunch. He
+wouldn't suspect you of bein' innocent, and he dreamed he dwelt in
+marble walls, makin' shoes for the state. So he gets cold feet and he
+just naturally evaporates--good night!"
+
+"Yes--he said he was going to hike out, or something to that effect,"
+responded Jeff absently--the fact being that he was not thinking of
+Gibson, at all, but was pondering deeply upon Miss Ellinor Hoffman. Had
+she gone to New York according to the original plan? It did not seem
+probable. Her face stood out before him--bright, vivid, sparkling, as he
+had seen her last, in the court room of Arcadia. Good heavens! Was that
+only a week ago? Seven days? It seemed seven years!--No--she had not
+gone--at least, certainly not until she was sure that he, Jeff, had made
+good his escape. Then, perhaps, she might have gone. Perhaps her mother
+had made her go. Oh, well!--New York wasn't far, as he had told her that
+first wonderful day on Rainbow Rim. What a marvelous day that was!
+
+Jeff was suddenly struck with the thought that he had never seen
+Ellinor's mother. Great Scott! She had a father, too! How annoying! He
+meditated upon this unpleasant theme for a space. Then, as if groping in
+a dark room, he had suddenly turned on the light, his thought changed
+to--_What a girl! Ah, what a wonderful girl! Where is she?_
+
+Looking up, Jeff became once more aware of Johnny Dines, leg curled
+around the horn of the new saddle, elbow on knee, cheek on hand,
+contemplating his poor friend with benevolent pity. And then Jeff knew
+that he could make no queries of Johnny Dines.
+
+Johnny spake soothingly.
+
+"You are in North America. This is the Twentieth Century. Your name is
+Bransford. That round bright object is the sun. This direction is East.
+This way is called 'up.' This is a stream of water that you see. It is
+called the Rio River Grand Big. We are advertised by our loving friends.
+I cannot sing the old songs. There's a reason. Two of a kind flock
+together. Never trump your pardner's ace. It's a wise child that dreads
+the fire. Wake up! Come out of it! Change cars!"
+
+"I ought to kill you," said Jeff. "Now giggle, you idiot, and make
+everybody hate you!--Wait till I say _Adios_ to my old compadre and the
+rest of the Escobar _gente_ and I'll side you to El Paso."
+
+"Not I. Little Johnny, he'll make San Elizario ferry by noon and Helm's
+by dark. Thought maybe so you'd be going along."
+
+"Why, no," said Jeff uneasily. "I guess maybe I'll go up to El Paso and
+june around a spell."
+
+"Oh, well--just as you say! Such bein' the case, I'll be jogging."
+
+"Better wait till after dinner--I'll square it with Don Francisco if ...
+anything's missing."
+
+"No--that makes too long a jaunt for this afternoon. Me for San
+Elizario. So long!"
+
+But beyond the first _acequia_ he turned and rode back.
+
+"Funny thing, Jeff! Remember me telling you about a girl I saw on
+Mayhill, the day Nigger Babe throwed you off? Now, what was that girl's
+name?--I've forgotten again. Oh, yes!--Hoffman--Miss Ellinor Hoffman.
+Well--she's at Arcadia still. The mother lady was all for going back to
+New York--but, no, sir! Girl says she's twenty-one, likes Arcadia, and
+she's going to stay a spell. Leastwise, so I hear."
+
+"I _will_ kill you!" said Jeff. "Here, wait till I saddle my nag and say
+good-by."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Beyond San Elizario, as they climbed the Pass of All the Winds, the two
+friends halted to breathe their horses.
+
+"Jeff," said Johnny, rather soberly, "you can kick me after I say my
+little piece--I'll think poorly of you if you don't--but ain't you
+making maybe a mistake? That girl, now--nice girl, and all that--but
+that girl's got money, Jeff."
+
+"I hate a fool worse than a knave, any day in the week," said Jeff: "and
+the man that would let money keep him from the only girl--why, Johnny,
+he's so much more of a fool than the other fellow is a scoundrel----"
+
+"I get you!" said Johnny. "You mean that a submarine boat is better
+built for roping steers than a mogul engine is skilful at painting
+steeples, and you wonder if you can't get a fresh horse somewhere and
+go on through to Arcadia to-night?"
+
+"Something like that," admitted Jeff. "Besides," he added lightly,
+"while I'd like that girl just as well if I didn't have a cent--why, as
+it happens, I'm pretty well fixed, myself. I've got money to throw at
+the little dicky-birds--all kinds of money. Got a fifty-one-per-cent
+interest in a copper mine over in Harqua Hala that's been payin' me all
+the way from ten to five thousand clear per each and every year for the
+last seven years, besides what I pay a lad for lookout to keep anybody
+but himself from stealing any of it. He's been buyin' real estate for me
+in Los Angeles lately."
+
+Johnny's jaw dropped in unaffected amazement.
+
+"All this while? Before you and Leo hit Rainbow?"
+
+"Sure!" said Jeff.
+
+"And you workin' for forty a month and stealin' your own beef?--then
+saving up and buying your little old brand along with Beebe and Leo and
+old Wes', joggin' along, workin' like a yaller dog with fleas?"
+
+"Why not? Wasn't I having a heap of fun? Where can I see any better time
+than I had here, or find better friends? Money's no good by itself. I
+haven't drawn a dollar from Arizona since I left. It was fun to make the
+mine go round at first; but when it got so it'd work I looked for
+something else more amusing."
+
+"I should think you'd want to travel, anyhow."
+
+"Travel?" echoed Jeff. "Travel? Why, you damn fool, I'm here now!"
+
+"Will you stay here, if you marry her, Jeff?"
+
+"So you've no objection to make, if I've got a few dollars? That squares
+everything all right, does it? Not a yeep of protest from you now? See
+here, you everlasting fool! I'm just the same man I was fifteen minutes
+ago when you thought I didn't have any money. If I'm fit for her now, I
+was then. If I wasn't good enough then, I'm not good enough now."
+
+"But I wasn't thinking of her--I was thinking of--how it would look."
+
+"Look? Who cares how it looks? Just a silly prejudice! 'They say--what
+say they--let them say!' Johnny, maybe I was just stringin' you. If I
+was lying about the money--how about it then? Changed your mind again?"
+
+"You wasn't lyin', was you?"
+
+"Shan't tell you! It doesn't really make any difference, anyhow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AT THE RAINBOW'S END
+
+     "Helen's lips are drifting dust;
+     Ilion is consumed with rust;
+     All the galleons of Greece
+     Drink the ocean's dreamless peace;
+     Lost was Solomon's purple show
+     Restless centuries ago;
+     Stately empires wax and wane--
+     Babylon, Barbary and Spain--
+     Only one thing, undefaced,
+     Lasts, though all the worlds lie waste
+     And the heavens are overturned,
+     --Dear, how long ago we learned!"
+
+                         --FREDERICK LAWRENCE KNOWLES.
+
+
+Starlit and moonlight leagues, the slow, fresh dawn; in the cool of the
+morning, Bransford came to the crest of the ground-swell known as
+Frenchman's Ridge, and saw low-lying Arcadia dim against the north, a
+toy town huddling close to the shelter of Rainbow Range; he splashed
+through the shallow waters of Alamo, failing to a trickle before it sank
+in the desert sands; and so came at last to the moat of Arcadia. With
+what joyous and eager-choking heart-beat you may well guess: not the
+needlessness of those swift pulses or of that joy. For Ellinor was not
+there. With Mrs. Hoffman, she had gone to visit the Sutherlands at
+Rainbow's End. And Jeff could not go on. Arcadia rose to greet him in
+impromptu Roman holiday.
+
+Poor Bransford has never known clearly what chanced on that awful day.
+There is a jumbled, whirling memory of endless kaleidoscopic troops of
+joyful Arcadians: Billy White, Monte, Jimmy, Clarke, the grim-smiling
+sheriff, the judge. It was dimly borne upon him by one or both of the
+two last, that there were yet certain formalities to be observed in the
+matter of his escape from custody of the Law and of the horse he had
+borrowed from the court house square. Indeed, it seemed to Jeff, in a
+hazy afterthought, that perhaps the sheriff had arrested him again. If
+so, it had slipped Jeff's mind, swallowed up in a gruesome horror of
+congratulations, hand-shakings, back-slappings, badinage and questions;
+heaped on a hero heartsick, dazed and dumb. Pleading weariness, he tore
+himself away at last, almost by violence, and flung himself down in a
+darkened bedroom of the Arcadian Atalanta.
+
+One thing was clear. Headlight was there, Aforesaid Smith, Madison: but
+his nearest friends, Pringle, Beebe and Ballinger, though they had
+hasted back to Arcadia to fight Jeff's battles, were ostentatiously
+absent from his hollow and hateful triumph: Johnny Dines had pointedly
+refused to share his night ride from Helm's: and Jeff knew why, sadly
+enough. The gods take pay for the goods they give: and now that goodly
+fellowship was broken. The thought clung fast: it haunted his tossing
+and troubled slumbers, where Ellinor came through a sunset glow,
+swift-footed to meet him: where his friends rode slow and silent into
+the glimmering dusk, smaller and smaller, black against the sky.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Sutherland place made an outer corner of Rainbow's End, bowered
+about by a double row of close and interlaced cottonwoods on two sides,
+by vigorous orchards on the other two.
+
+The house had once been a one-storied adobe, heroically proportioned,
+thick-walled, cool against summer, warm in what went by the name of
+winter. The old-time princely hospitality was unchanged, but Sutherland
+had bought lots in Arcadia of early days; and now, the old gray walls of
+the house were smooth with creamy stucco, wrought of gypsum from the
+White Sands; the windows were widened and there was a superimposed
+story, overhanging, wide and low. The gables were double-windowed,
+shingled and stained nut-brown, the gently sloping roof shingled,
+dormered and soft green: the overflow projecting to broad verandas on
+either side, very like an umbrella: a bungalow with two birthdays--1866
+: 1896.
+
+Miss Ellinor Hoffman had deserted veranda, rocking-chair and hammock.
+With a sewing basket beside her, she sat on a pine bench under a
+cottonwood of 1867, ostensibly basting together a kimono tinted like a
+dripping sea shell, and faced with peach-blossom.
+
+The work went slowly. Her seat was at the desert corner of the homestead
+which was itself the desert outpost of a desert town: and her blood
+stirred to these splendid horizons. The mysterious desert scoffed and
+questioned, drew her with promise of strange joys and strange griefs.
+The iron-hard mountains beckoned and challenged from afar, wove her
+their spells of wavering lights and shadows; the misty warp and woof of
+them shifting to swift fantastic hues of trembling rose and blue and
+violet, half-veiling, half-revealing, steeps unguessed and dreamed-of
+sheltered valleys--and all the myriad-voice of moaning waste and
+world-rimming hill cried "Come!"
+
+Faint, fitful undertone of drowsy chords, far pealing of elfin bells;
+that was pulsing of busy _acequias_, tinkling of mimic waterfalls. The
+clean breath of the desert crooned by, bearing a grateful fragrance of
+apple-blossoms near; it rippled the deepest green of alfalfa to
+undulating sheen of purple and flashing gold.
+
+The broad fields were dwarfed to play-garden prettiness by the vastness
+of overwhelming desert, to right, to left, before; whose nearer
+blotches of black and gray and brown faded, far off, to a nameless
+shimmer, its silent leagues dwindling to immeasurable blur, merging
+indistinguishable in the burning sunset.
+
+"East by up," overguarding the oasis, the colossal bulk of Rainbow
+walled out the world with grim-tiered cliffs, cleft only by the
+deep-gashed gates of Rainbow Pass, where the swift river broke through
+to the rich fields of Rainbow's End, bringing fulfilment of the fabled
+pot of gold--or, unused, to shrink and fail and die in the thirsty sand.
+
+Below, the whilom channel wandered forlorn--Rainbow no longer, but Lost
+River--to a disconsolate delta, waterless save as infrequent floods
+found turbulent way to the Sink, when wild horse and antelope revisited
+their old haunts for the tender green luxury of these brief, belated
+springs.
+
+Incidentally, Miss Hoffman's outpost commanded a good view of Arcadia
+road, winding white through the black tar-brush. Had she looked, she
+might have seen a slow horseman, tiny on the bare plain below the
+tar-brush, larger as he climbed the gentle slope along that
+white-winding road.
+
+But she bent industrious to her work, smiling to herself, half-singing,
+half-humming a foolish and lilty little tune:
+
+     "A tisket, a tasket--a green and yellow basket;
+     I wrote a letter to my love and on the road I lost it--
+     I crissed it, I crossed it--I locked it in a casket;
+     I missed it, I lost it----"
+
+And here Miss Hoffman did an unaccountable thing. Wise Penelope
+unraveled by night the work she wove by day. Like her in this, Miss
+Ellinor Hoffman now placidly snipped and ripped the basting threads,
+unraveled them patiently, and set to work afresh.
+
+     "Now, there's no such thing as a Ginko tree;
+     There never was--though there ought to be.
+     And 'tis also true, though most absurd,
+     There's no such thing as a Wallabye bird!"
+
+Miss Hoffman was all in white, with a white middy blouse trimmed in
+scarlet, a scarlet ribbon in her dark hair: a fine-linked gold chain
+showed at her neck. A very pretty picture she made, cool and fresh
+against the deep shade and the green--but of course she did not know it.
+She held the shaping kimono at arm's length, admiring the delicate
+color, and fell to work again.
+
+     "Oh, the jolly miller, he lives by himself!
+     As the wheel rolls around he gathers in his pelf,
+     A hand in the hopper and another in the bag--
+     As the wheel rolls around he calls out, '_Grab!_'"
+
+So intent and preoccupied was she, that she did not hear the approaching
+horse.
+
+"Good evening!"
+
+"Oh!" Miss Hoffman jumped, dropping the long-suffering kimono. A
+horseman, with bared head, had reined up in the shaded road alongside.
+"How silly of me not to hear you coming! If you're looking for Mr.
+Sutherland, he's not here--Mr. David Sutherland, that is. But Mr. Henry
+Sutherland is here--or was awhile ago--maybe half an hour since. He was
+trying to get up a set of tennis. Perhaps they're playing--over there on
+the other side of the house. And yet, if they were there, we'd hear them
+laughing--don't you think?"
+
+Mr. Bransford--for it was Mr. Bransford, and he was all dressed in
+clothes--waited with extreme patience for the conclusion of these
+feverish and hurried remarks.
+
+"But I'm not looking for Sutherland. I'm looking for you!"
+
+"Oh!" said Ellinor again. Then, after a long and deliberate survey, the
+light of recognition dawned slowly in her eyes. "Oh, I _do_ know you,
+don't I? To be sure I do! You're Mr.----the gentleman I met on Rainbow
+Mountain, near Mayhill,--Mr.--ah yes--Bransford!"
+
+"Why, so I am!" said Jeff, leaning on the saddle-horn. One half of Mr.
+Bransford wondered if he had not been making a fool of himself and
+taking a great deal for granted: the other half, though considerably
+alarmed, was not at all deceived.
+
+Miss Ellinor did not actually put her finger in the corner of her
+mouth--she merely looked as if she had. "Ah!--Won't you ... get down?"
+she said helplessly. "What a beautiful horse!"
+
+"Why, yes--thank you--I believe I will."
+
+He left the beautiful horse to stand with dangling reins, and came over
+to the bench, silent and rather grim.
+
+"Won't you sit down?" said Ellinor politely. "Fine day, isn't it?"
+
+"It's a wonderful day--a marvelous day--a stupendous day!" said this
+exasperated young man. "No, I guess it's not worth while to sit down. I
+just wanted to find out where you lived. I asked you once before, you
+know, and you didn't tell me."
+
+"Didn't I? Oh, do sit down! You look so grumpy--tired, I mean." Rather
+grudgingly, she swept the sewing basket from the bench to the grass.
+
+Jeff's eyes followed the action. He saw--if you call it seeing--the
+snipped threads on the grass, the yet unpicked bastings, white against
+the peach-pink facing; but he was a mere man, hardly-circumstanced, and
+these eloquent tidings were wasted upon his clumsy intellect: as had
+been the surprising good fortune of finding Miss Ellinor exactly where
+she was.
+
+Nerving himself with memory of the Quaker Lady at the masquerade--if,
+indeed, that had ever really happened--Jeff took the offered seat.
+
+The young lady matched two edges together, smoothed them, eyed the
+result critically, and plied a nimble needle. Then she turned clear and
+guileless eyes on her glooming seatmate.
+
+"You look older, somehow, than I thought you were, now that I remember,"
+she observed, biting the thread. "You've been away, haven't you?"
+
+"Thought you were going away, yourself, so wild and fierce?" said Jeff,
+evading.--_Been away, indeed!_
+
+Ellinor threaded her needle.
+
+"Mamma _was_ talking of going for a while," she said tranquilly. "But
+I'm rather glad we didn't. We're having a splendid time here--and Mr.
+White's going to take us to the White Sands next week. He'll be down
+to-morrow--at least I think so. He's fine! He took us to Mescalero early
+in the spring. And the young people here at Rainbow's End are simply
+delightful. You must meet some of them. Listen! There they are now--I
+hear them. They _are_ playing tennis. Come on up and I'll introduce you.
+I can finish this thing any time." She tossed the poor kimono into the
+basket.
+
+"No," said this unhappy young man, rising. "I believe I'll go on back.
+Good-by, Miss Ell--Miss Hoffman. I wish you much happiness!"
+
+"Why--surely you're not going now? There are some nice girls here--they
+have heard so much of you, but they say they've never met you. Don't
+you want----"
+
+Jeff groaned, fumbling blindly at the bridle. "No, I wish I'd never seen
+a girl!"
+
+"Why-y! That's not very polite, is it?----Are--are you--mad to me?" said
+Ellinor in a meek little voice.
+
+"Mad? No," said Jeff bitterly. "I'm just coming to my senses. I've been
+dreaming. Now I've woke up!"
+
+"Angry, I mean, of course. I just say it that way--'are you mad to
+me'--sometimes--to be--to be--nice, Mr. Bransford!"
+
+"You needn't bother! Good-by!"
+
+"But I'll see you again----"
+
+"_Never!_"
+
+"----when you're not so--cross?"
+
+Jeff reached for his stirrup.
+
+"Oh, well! If you're going to be huffy! Never it is, then, by all means!
+No--wait! I must give you back your present."
+
+"I have never given you a present. Some other man, doubtless. You should
+keep a list!" said Jeff, with bitter and cutting scorn.
+
+The girl turned half away from him and hid her face with trembling
+hands; her shoulders shook with emotion.
+
+"Look the other way, sir! Turn your head! You shall have your present
+back and then if you're so anxious to go--Go!"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, I never gave you a present in my life," Jeff protested.
+
+"You did!" sobbed Ellinor. She turned upon him, stamping her foot. "You
+said, when you gave it to me, that you hoped it would bring me good
+luck. And you've forgotten! _You'd_ better keep a list! Turn your head
+away, I tell you!" She sank down on the bench.
+
+Confused, mazed, bewildered, Jeff obeyed her.
+
+She sprang to her feet. She was laughing, blushing, glowing. In her hand
+was the little gold chain.
+
+"Now, you may look. Hold out your hand, sir!"
+
+Jeff's mind was whirling; he held out his hand. She laid a little gold
+locket in his palm. It was warm, that little locket.
+
+"I have never seen this locket before in my life!" gasped Jeff.
+
+"Open it!"
+
+He opened it. The little eohippus glared up at him.
+
+"Ellinor!--_Charley Gibson!_"
+
+"Tobe! Jeff!--_Jamie!_"
+
+The little eohippus stared unwinking from the grass.
+
+                         THE BEGINNING
+
+
+
+
+ _"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_
+
+
+
+
+EMERSON HOUGH'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+=THE COVERED WAGON=
+
+An epic story of the Great West from which the famous picture was made.
+
+
+=THE WAY OF A MAN=
+
+A colorful romance of the pioneer West before the Civil War.
+
+
+=THE SAGEBRUSHER=
+
+An Eastern girl answers a matrimonial ad. and goes out West in the hills
+of Montana to find her mate.
+
+
+=THE WAY OUT=
+
+A romance of the feud district of the Cumberland country.
+
+
+=THE BROKEN GATE=
+
+A story of broken social conventions and of a woman's determination to
+put the past behind her.
+
+
+=THE WAY TO THE WEST=
+
+Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and Kit Carson figure in this story of the
+opening of the West.
+
+
+=HEART'S DESIRE=
+
+The story of what happens when the railroad came to a little settlement
+in the far West.
+
+
+=THE PURCHASE PRICE=
+
+A story of Kentucky during the days after the American Revolution.
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE W. OGDEN'S WESTERN NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+=THE BARON OF DIAMOND TAIL=
+
+The Elk Mountain Cattle Co. had not paid a dividend in years; so Edgar
+Barrett, fresh from the navy, was sent West to see what was wrong at the
+ranch. The tale of this tenderfoot outwitting the buckaroos at their own
+play will sweep you into the action of this salient western novel.
+
+
+=THE BONDBOY=
+
+Joe Newbolt, bound out by force of family conditions to work for a
+number of years, is accused of murder and circumstances are against him.
+His mouth is sealed; he cannot, as a gentleman, utter the words that
+would clear him. A dramatic, romantic tale of intense interest.
+
+
+=CLAIM NUMBER ONE=
+
+Dr. Warren Slavens drew claim number one, which entitled him to first
+choice of rich lands on an Indian reservation in Wyoming. It meant a
+fortune; but before he established his ownership he had a hard battle
+with crooks and politicians.
+
+
+=THE DUKE OF CHIMNEY BUTTE=
+
+When Jerry Lambert, "the Duke," attempts to safeguard the cattle ranch
+of Vesta Philbrook from thieving neighbors, his work is appallingly
+handicapped because of Grace Kerr, one of the chief agitators, and a
+deadly enemy of Vesta's. A stirring tale of brave deeds, gun-play and a
+love that shines above all.
+
+
+=THE FLOCKMASTER OF POISON CREEK=
+
+John Mackenzie trod the trail from Jasper to the great sheep country
+where fortunes were being made by the flock-masters. Shepherding was not
+a peaceful pursuit in those bygone days. Adventure met him at every
+turn--there is a girl of course--men fight their best fights for a
+woman--it is an epic of the sheeplands.
+
+
+=THE LAND OF LAST CHANCE=
+
+Jim Timberlake and Capt. David Scott waited with restless thousands on
+the Oklahoma line for the signal to dash across the border. How the city
+of Victory arose overnight on the plains, how people savagely defended
+their claims against the "sooners;" how good men and bad played
+politics, makes a strong story of growth and American initiative.
+
+
+=TRAIL'S END=
+
+Ascalon was the end of the trail for thirsty cowboys who gave vent to
+their pent-up feelings without restraint. Calvin Morgan was not
+concerned with its wickedness until Seth Craddock's malevolence directed
+itself against him. He did not emerge from the maelstrom until he had
+obliterated every vestige of lawlessness, and assured himself of the
+safety of a certain dark-eyed girl.
+
+
+_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+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."
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+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 seafaring
+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.
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S
+ NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+=TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION=
+
+A tale of the African wilderness which appeals to all readers of
+fiction.
+
+
+=TARZAN THE TERRIBLE=
+
+Further thrilling adventures of Tarzan while seeking his wife in Africa.
+
+
+=TARZAN THE UNTAMED=
+
+Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in seeking vengeance
+for the loss of his wife and home.
+
+
+=JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN=
+
+Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to
+ape kingship.
+
+
+=AT THE EARTH'S CORE=
+
+An astonishing series of adventures in a world located inside of the
+Earth.
+
+
+=THE MUCKER=
+
+The story of Billy Byrne--as extraordinary a character as the famous
+Tarzan.
+
+
+=A PRINCESS OF MARS=
+
+Forty-three million miles from the earth--a succession of the weirdest
+and most astounding adventures in fiction.
+
+
+=THE GODS OF MARS=
+
+John Carter's adventures on Mars, where he fights the ferocious "plant
+men," and defies Issus, the Goddess of Death.
+
+
+=THE WARLORD OF MARS=
+
+Old acquaintances, made in two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas,
+Tardos Mors and others.
+
+
+=THUVIA, MAID OF MARS=
+
+The story centers around the adventures of Carthoris, the son of John
+Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian Emperor.
+
+
+=THE CHESSMEN OF MARS=
+
+The adventures of Princess Tara in the land of headless men, creatures
+with the power of detaching their heads from their bodies and replacing
+them at will.
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ZANE GREY'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+ =TO THE LAST MAN=
+ =THE MYSTERIOUS RIDER=
+ =THE MAN OF THE FOREST=
+ =THE DESERT OF WHEAT=
+ =THE U. P. TRAIL=
+ =WILDFIRE=
+ =THE BORDER LEGION=
+ =THE RAINBOW TRAIL=
+ =THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT=
+ =RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE=
+ =THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS=
+ =THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN=
+ =THE LONE STAR RANGER=
+ =DESERT GOLD=
+ =BETTY ZANE=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS=
+
+The life story of "Buffalo Bill" by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, with
+Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey.
+
+
+ZANE GREY'S BOOKS FOR BOYS
+
+ =KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE=
+ =THE YOUNG LION HUNTER=
+ =THE YOUNG FORESTER=
+ =THE YOUNG PITCHER=
+ =THE SHORT STOP=
+ =THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER
+   BASEBALL STORIES=
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+ =THE COUNTRY BEYOND=
+ =THE FLAMING FOREST=
+ =THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN=
+ =THE RIVER'S END=
+ =THE GOLDEN SNARE=
+ =NOMADS OF THE NORTH=
+ =KAZAN=
+ =BAREE, SON OF KAZAN=
+ =THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM=
+ =THE DANGER TRAIL=
+ =THE HUNTED WOMAN=
+ =THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH=
+ =THE GRIZZLY KING=
+ =ISOBEL=
+ =THE WOLF HUNTERS=
+ =THE GOLD HUNTERS=
+ =THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE=
+ =BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY=
+
+_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE
+ WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+
+ =BIG-TOWN ROUND-UP, THE=
+ =BRAND BLOTTERS=
+ =BUCKY O'CONNOR=
+ =CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT=
+ =DAUGHTER OF THE DONS, A=
+ =GUNSIGHT PASS=
+ =HIGHGRADER, THE=
+ =MAN FOUR-SQUARE, A=
+ =MAN-SIZE=
+ =MAVERICKS=
+ =OH, YOU TEX!=
+ =PIRATE OF PANAMA, THE=
+ =RIDGWAY OF MONTANA=
+ =SHERIFF'S SON, THE=
+ =STEVE YEAGER=
+ =TANGLED TRAILS=
+ =TEXAS RANGER, A=
+ =VISION SPLENDID, THE=
+ =WYOMING=
+ =YUKON TRAIL, THE=
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+JACK LONDON'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+
+ =ADVENTURE=
+ =BURNING DAYLIGHT=
+ =CALL OF THE WILD, THE=
+ =DAUGHTER OF THE SNOWS, A=
+ =JERRY OF THE ISLANDS=
+ =JOHN BARLEYCORN=
+ =LITTLE LADY OF THE BIG HOUSE=
+ =MARTIN EDEN=
+ =MICHAEL, BROTHER OF JERRY=
+ =MUTINY OF THE ELSINORE, THE=
+ =NIGHT BORN, THE=
+ =SEA WOLF, THE=
+ =SMOKE BELLEW=
+ =SON OF THE WOLF, THE=
+ =STAR ROVER, THE=
+ =VALLEY OF THE MOON, THE=
+ =WHITE FANG=
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+B. M. BOWER'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+
+ =CASEY RYAN=
+ =CHIP OF THE FLYING U=
+ =COW-COUNTRY=
+ =FLYING U RANCH=
+ =FLYING U'S LAST STAND, THE=
+ =GOOD INDIAN=
+ =GRINGOS, THE=
+ =HAPPY FAMILY, THE=
+ =HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT=
+ =HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX, THE=
+ =LONG SHADOW, THE=
+ =LONESOME TRAIL, THE=
+ =LOOKOUT MAN, THE=
+ =LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS, THE=
+ =PHANTOM HERD, THE=
+ =QUIRT, THE=
+ =RANGE DWELLERS, THE=
+ =RIM O' THE WORLD=
+ =SKYRIDER=
+ =STARR OF THE DESERT=
+ =THUNDER BIRD, THE=
+ =TRAIL OF THE WHITE MULE, THE=
+ =UPHILL CLIMB, THE=
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ BOOTH TARKINGTON'S
+ NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+=SEVENTEEN.= Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.
+
+No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young
+people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the
+time when the reader was Seventeen.
+
+
+=PENROD.= Illustrated by Gordon Grant.
+
+This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous,
+tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a
+finished, exquisite work.
+
+
+=PENROD AND SAM.= Illustrated by Worth Brehm.
+
+Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases
+of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness
+that have ever been written.
+
+
+=THE TURMOIL.= Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.
+
+Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his
+father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a
+fine girl turns Bibbs' life from failure to success.
+
+
+=THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA.= Frontispiece.
+
+A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country
+editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love
+interest.
+
+
+=THE FLIRT.= Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.
+
+The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement,
+drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another
+to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising
+suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.
+
+
+_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 33498-8.txt or 33498-8.zip *******
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Bransford of Rainbow Range, by Eugene Manlove
+Rhodes, Illustrated by Harvey T. Dunn</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Bransford of Rainbow Range</p>
+<p>       Originally Published under the title of Bransford in Arcadia, or, The Little Eohippus</p>
+<p>Author: Eugene Manlove Rhodes</p>
+<p>Release Date: August 25, 2010  [eBook #33498]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by D Alexander<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    Internet Archive/American Libraries<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/bransfordofrainb00rhodiala">
+      http://www.archive.org/details/bransfordofrainb00rhodiala</a>
+   </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="pg" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox bbox">
+<h1>BRANSFORD</h1>
+<h2>OF RAINBOW RANGE</h2>
+
+<hr class="tiny" />
+
+<p class="center"><i>Originally Published under the title of</i></p>
+
+<h4>BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA<br />
+OR, THE LITTLE EOHIPPUS</h4>
+
+<hr class="tiny" />
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h3>EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES</h3>
+
+<h5>AUTHOR OF</h5>
+
+<h4>THE DESIRE OF THE MOTH,<br />
+GOOD MEN AND TRUE, WEST IS WEST, <span class="smcap">Etc.</span></h4>
+
+<h5>FRONTISPIECE BY</h5>
+
+<h4>HARVEY T. DUNN</h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 86px;">
+<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="86" height="80" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<h3>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP</h3>
+
+<h4>PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</h4></div>
+
+<p class="center">Made in the United States of America</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<p class="center">Copyright, 1913, by<br />
+<span class="smcap">Curtis Publishing Company</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">Copyright, 1914, by<br />
+<span class="smcap">Henry Holt and Company</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">Copyright, 1920, by<br />
+<span class="smcap">The H. K. Fly Company</span></p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 291px;">
+<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="291" height="500" alt="THE HORSES WERE UNWILLING TO ENTER THE CIRCLE OF
+FIRELIGHT. Page 181" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE HORSES WERE UNWILLING TO ENTER THE CIRCLE OF
+FIRELIGHT. Page <a href="#Page_181">181</a></span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS">
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right"><span style="margin-right: 0.75em;"><small>CHAPTER</small></span></td>
+<td align="center">&#160;</td>
+<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">&#160;</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Prologue</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">I.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Pitcher That Went to the Well</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">II.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">First Aid</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">III.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Maxwelton Braes</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">IV.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Road to Rome</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">V.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Maskers</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">VI.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Isle of Arcady</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">VII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">States-General</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">VIII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Arcades Ambo</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">IX.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Taken</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">X.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Alibi</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XI.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Nettle, Danger</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Siege of Double Mountain</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XIII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Siege of Double Mountain</span> (<i>continued</i>)</td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XIV.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Flight</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XV.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Good-by</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XVI.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Land of Afternoon</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XVII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Twentieth Century</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XVIII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">At the Rainbow&#8217;s End</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<h1>BRANSFORD OF<br />
+RAINBOW RANGE</h1>
+
+<h1><a name="BRANSFORD_IN_ARCADIA" id="BRANSFORD_IN_ARCADIA"></a>BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA</h1>
+
+<h2><a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE"></a>PROLOGUE</h2>
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he long fall round-up was over. The wagon, homeward bound, made camp
+for the last night out at the Sinks of Lost River. Most of the men, worn
+with threescore night-guards, were buried under their tarps in the deep
+sleep of the weary; sound as that of the just, and much more common.</p>
+
+<p>By the low campfire a few yet lingered: old-timers, iron men, whose wiry
+and seasoned strength was toil-proof&mdash;and Leo Ballinger, for whom youth,
+excitement and unsated novelty served in lieu of fitness.</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;firelighters,&#8221; working the wide range again from Ancho to Hueco,
+from the Mal Pais to Glencoe, fell silent now, to mark an unstaled
+miracle.</p>
+
+<p>The clustered lights of Rainbow&#8217;s End shone redly, near and low. Beyond,
+above, dominant, the black, unbroken bulk of Rainbow Range shut out the
+east. The clear-cut crest mellowed to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>luminous curves, feathery with
+far-off pines; the long skyline thrilled with frosty fire, glowed,
+sparkled&mdash;the cricket&#8217;s chirp was stilled; the slow, late moon rose to a
+hushed and waiting world.</p>
+
+<p>On the sharp crest she paused, irresolute, tiptoe, quivering, rosily
+aflush. Above floated a web of gossamer. She leaped up, spurning the
+black rim; glowed, palpitant, through that filmy lace&mdash;and all the
+desert throbbed with vibrant light.</p>
+
+<p>Cool and sweet and fresh, from maiden leagues of clean, brown earth the
+desert winds made whisper in grass and fragrant shrub; yucca, mesquite
+and greasewood swayed&mdash;so softly, you had not known save as the long
+shadows courtesied and danced.</p>
+
+<p>Leo flung up his hand. The air was wine to him. A year had left the
+desert still new and strange. &#8220;Gee!&#8221; he said eloquently.</p>
+
+<p>Headlight nodded. &#8220;You&#8217;re dead right on that point, son. If Christopher
+K. Columbus had only thought to beach his shallops on the sundown side
+of this here continent he might have made a name for himself. Just think
+how much different, hysterically, these United States&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>This</i> United States,&#8221; corrected Pringle dispassionately. Their fathers
+had disagreed on the same grammatical point.</p>
+
+<p>Headlight scowled. &#8220;By Jings! &#8216;That <i>this</i> United Colonies are, and of
+right ought to be, free and independent States,&#8217;&#8221; he quoted. &#8220;I was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>goin&#8217; to give you something new to exercise your talons on. You sit
+here every night, ridin&#8217; broncs and four-footin&#8217; steers, and never grab
+a horn or waste a loop, not once. Sure things ain&#8217;t amusin&#8217;. Some
+variety and doubtful accuracy, now, would develop our guessin&#8217; gifts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Aforesaid Smith brandished the end-gate rod. &#8220;Them speculations of yours
+sorter opens up of themselves. If California had been settled first the
+salmon would now be our national bird instead of the potato. Think of
+Arizona, mother of Presidents! Seat of government at Milipitas; center
+of population about Butte; New Jersey howlin&#8217; about Nevada trusts!&#8221; He
+impaled a few beef ribs and held them over the glowing embers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Georgia and South Carolina would be infested by cow-persons in
+d&eacute;collet&eacute; leather panties,&#8221; said Jeff Bransford. &#8220;New York and
+Pennsylvania would be fondly turning a credulous ear to the
+twenty-fourth consecutive solemn promise of Statehood&mdash;with the Senator
+from Walla Walla urging admission of both as one mighty State with
+Maryland and Virginia thrown in for luck.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Headlight forgot his pique. &#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t the railroads sound funny, though?
+Needles and Eastern, Northern Atlantic, Southern Atlantic, Union,
+Western, Kansas and Central Atlantic! Earnest and continuous demand for
+a President <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>from east of the Mississippi. All the prize-fights pulled
+off at Boston.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Columbus done just right,&#8221; said Pringle decisively. &#8220;You fellers ain&#8217;t
+got no imagination a-tall. If this Western country&#8217;d been settled first,
+the maps would read: &#8216;Northeast Territory.&mdash;Uninhabitable wilderness;
+region of storm and snow, roaming savages and fierce wild beasts.&#8217; When
+the intrepid explorer hit the big white weather he&#8217;d say, &#8216;Little old
+San Diego&#8217;s good enough for me!&#8217; Yes, sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, climate alone doesn&#8217;t account for the charm of this
+country&mdash;nor scenery,&#8221; said Leo. &#8220;You feel it, but you don&#8217;t know why it
+is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It sure agrees with your by-laws,&#8221; observed Pringle. &#8220;You&#8217;re a sight
+changed from the furtive behemoth you was. You&#8217;ll make a hand yet. But,
+even now, your dimensions from east to west is plumb fascinatin&#8217;. I&#8217;d
+sure admire to have your picture to put in my cornfield.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, Mr. Pringle: I&#8217;ll exchange photographs with you,&#8221; said Leo
+artlessly. A smothered laugh followed this remark; uncertainty as to
+what horrible and unnamed use Leo would make of Pringle&#8217;s pictured face
+appealed to these speculative minds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve studied out this charm business,&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;See if I&#8217;m not
+right. It&#8217;s because there&#8217;s no habitually old men here to pattern after,
+to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>steady us, to make us ashamed of just staying boys. Now and then you
+hit an octagonal cuss like Wes here, that on a mere count of years and
+hairs might be sized up as old by the superficial observer. But if I
+have ever met that man more addicted with vivid nonchalance as to
+further continuance of educational facilities than this same Also Ran,
+his number has now escaped me. Really aged old people stay where they
+was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think, myself, that what makes life so easy and congenial in these
+latigos and longitudes is the dearth of law and the ladies.&#8221; Thus
+Pringle, the cynic.</p>
+
+<p>A fourfold outcry ensued; indignant repudiation of the latter heresy.
+Their protest rose above the customary subdued and quiet drawl of the
+out-of-doors man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But has the law no defenders?&#8221; demanded Leo. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got to have laws to
+make us behave.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure thing! Likewise, &#8217;tis the waves that make the tide come in,&#8221; said
+Jeff. &#8220;A good law is as handy as a good pocketbook. But law, as simply
+such, independent of its merits, rouses no enthusiasm in my manly bosom,
+no more than a signboard the day after Hallowe&#8217;en. If it occurs to me in
+a moment of emotional sanity that the environments of the special case
+in hand call for a compound fracture of the statutes made and
+provided&mdash;for some totally different cases that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>happen to be called by
+the same name&mdash;I fall upon it with my glittering hew-gag, without no
+special wonder. For,&#8221; he declaimed, &#8220;I am endowed by nature with certain
+inalienable rights, among which are the high justice, the middle, and
+the low!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And who&#8217;s to be the judge of whether it&#8217;s a good law or not? You?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Me. Me, every time. Some one must. If I let some other man make up my
+mind I&#8217;ve got to use my judgment&mdash;picking the man I follow. By
+organizing myself into a Permanent Committee of One to do my own
+thinking I take my one chance of mistakes instead of two.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So you believe in doing evil that good may come, do you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Jeff judicially, &#8220;it seems to be at least as good a
+proposition as doing good that evil may come of it. Why, Capricorn,
+there isn&#8217;t one thing we call wrong, when other men do it, that hasn&#8217;t
+been lawful, some time or other. When to break a law is to do a wrong,
+it&#8217;s evil. When it&#8217;s doing right to break a law, it&#8217;s not evil. Got
+that? It&#8217;s not wrong to keep a just law&mdash;and if it&#8217;s wrong to break an
+unjust law I want a new dictionary with pictures of it in the back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But laws is useful and excitin&#8217; diversions to break up the monogamy,&#8221;
+said Aforesaid. &#8220;And it&#8217;s a dead easy way to build up a rep. Look at
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>the edge I&#8217;ve got on you fellows. You&#8217;re just supposed to be
+honest&mdash;but I&#8217;ve been proved honest, frequent!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hark!&#8221; said Pringle.</p>
+
+<p>A weird sound reached them&mdash;the night wrangler, beguiling his lonely
+vigil with song.</p>
+
+<p class="center">&#8220;Oh, the cuckoo is a pretty bird; she comes in the spring&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you s&#8217;pose that night-hawk thinks about the majesty of the
+law?&#8221; he said. There was a ringing note in his voice. Smith and
+Headlight nodded gravely; their lean, brown faces hardened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t heard of it? Old John Taylor, daddy to yonder warbler,
+drifted here from the East. Wife and little girl both puny. Taylor takes
+up a homestead on the Feliz. He wasn&#8217;t affluent none. I let him have my
+old paint pony, Freckles&mdash;him being knee-sprung and not up to cow-work.
+To make out an unparalleled team, he got Ed Poe&#8217;s Billy Bowlegs, n&eacute;e
+Gambler, him havin&#8217; won a new name by a misunderstanding with a
+prairie-dog hole. Taylor paid Poe for him in work. He was a willin&#8217; old
+rooster, Taylor, but futile and left-handed all over.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;John, Junior, he was only thirteen. Him and the old man moseyed around
+like two drunk ants, fixin&#8217; up a little log house with rock chimbleys,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>a horse-pen and shelter, rail-fencin&#8217; of the little <i>vegas</i> to put to
+crops, and so on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Done you good to drop in and hear &#8217;em plan and figger. They was one
+happy family. How Sis Em&#8217;ly bragged about their hens layin&#8217;! In the
+spring we all held a bee and made their <i>&#8217;cequias</i> for &#8217;em. Baker, he
+loaned &#8217;em a plow. They dragged big branches over the ground for a
+harrow. They could milk anybody&#8217;s cows they was a mind to tame, and the
+boys took to carryin&#8217; over motherless calves for Mis&#8217; Taylor to raise.
+Taylor, he done odd jobs, and they got along real well with their crops.
+They went into the second winter peart as squirrels.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, come spring, Sis wasn&#8217;t doin&#8217; well. They had the Agency doctor.
+Too high up and too damp, he said. So the missus and Em&#8217;ly they went to
+Cruces, where Em&#8217;ly could go to school.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That meant right smart of expense&mdash;rentin&#8217; a house and all. So the
+Johns they hires out. John, Junior, made his dayboo as wrangler for the
+Steam Pitchfork, acquirin&#8217; the obvious name of Felix.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The old man he got a job muckin&#8217; in Organ mines. Kept his hawses in
+Jeff Isaack&#8217;s pasture, and Saturday nights he&#8217;d get one and slip down
+them eighteen miles to Cruces for Sunday with the folks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you know, a homesteader can&#8217;t be off his claim more&#8217;n six months
+at a time.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I reckon if there was ever a homestead taken up in good faith &#8217;twas the
+Butterbowl. They knew the land laws from A to Izzard. Even named their
+hound pup Boney Fido!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the old man waited at Organ till the last bell rang, so&#8217;s to draw
+down his wages, payday. Then he bundles the folks into his little old
+wagon and lights out. Campin&#8217; at Casimiro&#8217;s Well, half-way &#8217;cross, that
+ornery Freckles hawse has a fit of malignant nostolgy and projects off
+for Butterbowl, afoot, in his hobbles. Next day, Taylor don&#8217;t overtake
+him till the middle of the evenin&#8217;, and what with going back and what
+with Freckles being hobble-sore, he&#8217;s two days late in reachin&#8217; home.
+For Lake, of Agua Chiquite, that prosperous person, had been keeping
+cases. He entered contest on the Butterbowl, allegin&#8217; abandonment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, if it was me&mdash;but, then, if &#8217;twas me I could stay away six years
+and two months without no remonstrances from Lake or his likes. I&#8217;m
+somewhat abandoned myself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But poor old Taylor, he&#8217;s been drug up where they hold biped life
+unaccountable high. He sits him down resignedly beneath the sky, as the
+poet says, meek and legal. We all don&#8217;t abnormally like to precipitate
+in another man&#8217;s business, but we makes it up to sorter saunter in on
+Lake, spontaneous, and evince our disfavor with a rope. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>But Taylor
+says, &#8216;No.&#8217; He allows the Land Office won&#8217;t hold him morally responsible
+for the sinful idiocy of a homesick spotted hawse that&#8217;s otherwise
+reliable.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s got one more guess comin&#8217;. There ain&#8217;t no sympathies to machinery.
+Your intentions may be strictly honorable, but if you get your hand
+caught in the cogs, off it goes, regardless of how handy it is for
+flankin&#8217; calves, holdin&#8217; nails, and such things. &#8216;Absent over six
+months. Entry canceled. Contestant is allowed thirty days&#8217; prior right
+to file. Next.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the way that decision&#8217;ll read. It ain&#8217;t come yet, but it&#8217;s due
+soon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This here Felix looks at it just like the old man, only
+different&mdash;though he ain&#8217;t makin&#8217; no statements for publication. He come
+here young, and having acquired the fixed habit of riskin&#8217; his neck,
+regular, for one dollar per each and every diem, shooin&#8217; in the
+reluctant steer, or a fool hawse pirouettin&#8217; across the pinnacles with a
+nosebag on&mdash;or, mebbee, just for fun&mdash;why, natural, he don&#8217;t see why
+life is so sweet or peace so dear as to put up with any damn
+foolishness, as Pat Henry used to say when the boys called on him for a
+few remarks. He&#8217;s a some serious-minded boy, that night-hawk, and if
+signs is any indications, he&#8217;s fixin&#8217; to take an appeal under the
+Winchester Act. I ain&#8217;t no seventh son of a son-of-a-gun, but my
+prognostications are that he presently <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>removes Lake to another and, we
+trust, a better world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good thing, too,&#8221; grunted Headlight. &#8220;This Lake person is sure-lee a
+muddy pool.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shet your fool head,&#8221; said Pringle amiably. &#8220;You may be on the jury.
+I&#8217;m going to seek my virtuous couch. Glad we don&#8217;t have to bed no
+cattle, <i>viva voce</i>, this night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t he the Latin scholar?&#8221; said Headlight admiringly. &#8220;They blow
+about that wire Julius C&aelig;sar sent the Associated Press, but old man
+Pringle done him up for levity and precision when he wrote us the
+account of his visit to the Denver carnival. Ever hear about it,
+Sagittarius?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Leo. &#8220;What did he say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hic&mdash;hock&mdash;hike!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>Escondido, half-way of the desert, is designed on simple lines. The
+railroad hauls water in tank-cars from Dog Ca&ntilde;on. There is one depot,
+one section-house, and one combination post-office-hotel-store-saloon-stage-station, kept by Ma Sanders and Pappy Sanders, in about the order
+mentioned. Also, one glorious green cottonwood, one pampered rosebush,
+jointly the pride and delight of Escondido, ownerless, but cherished by
+loving care and &#8220;toted&#8221; tribute of waste water.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>Hither came Jeff and Leo, white with the dust of twenty starlit leagues,
+for accumulated mail of Rainbow South. Horse-feeding, breakfast, gossip
+with jolly, motherly Ma Sanders, reading and answering of mail&mdash;then
+their beauty nap; so missing the day&#8217;s event, the passing of the Flyer.
+When they woke Escondido basked drowsily in the low, westering sun. The
+far sunset ranges had put off their workaday homespun brown and gray for
+chameleon hues of purple and amethyst; their deep, cool shadows, edged
+with trembling rose, reached out across the desert; the velvet air
+stirred faintly to the promise of the night.</p>
+
+<p>The agent was putting up his switch-lights; from the kitchen came a
+cheerful clatter of tinware.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now we buy some dry goods and wet,&#8221; said Leo. They went into the store.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That decision&#8217;s come!&#8221; shrilled Pappy in tremulous excitement. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+too durn bad! Registered letters from Land Office for Taylor and Lake,
+besides another for Lake, not registered.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That one from the Land Office, too?&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t I jest tell ye? Say, it&#8217;s a shame! Why don&#8217;t some of you
+fellers&mdash;&mdash;Gosh! If I was only young!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a travesty on justice!&#8221; exclaimed Leo indignantly. &#8220;There&#8217;s really
+no doubt but that they decided for Lake, I suppose?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Not a bit. He&#8217;s got the law with him. Then him and the Register is old
+cronies. Guess this other letter is from him unofficial, likely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff seated himself on a box. &#8220;How long has this Lake got to do his
+filing in, Pappy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thirty days from the time he signs the receipt for this letter&mdash;durn
+him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some one ought to kidnap him,&#8221; said Leo.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, that&#8217;s illegal!&#8221; Jeff nursed his knee, turned his head to one side
+and chanted thoughtfully:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Said the little Eohippus,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8216;I&#8217;m going to be a horse,</span><br />
+And on my middle fingernails<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To run my earthly course&#8217;&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>He broke off and smiled at Leo indulgently. Leo glanced at him sharply;
+this was Jeff&#8217;s war-song aforetime. But it was to Pappy that Jeff spoke:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dad, you&#8217;re a better&#8217;n any surgeon. Wish you&#8217;d go out and look at Leo&#8217;s
+horse. His ankle&#8217;s all swelled up. I&#8217;ll be mixin&#8217; me up a toddy, if Ma&#8217;s
+got any hot water. I&#8217;m feeling kinder squeamish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hot toddy, this weather? Some folks has queer tastes,&#8221; grumbled Pappy.
+&#8220;Ex-<i>cuse</i> me! Me and Leo&#8217;ll go look at the Charley-horse. That bottle
+under the shelf is the best.&#8221; He bustled out. But Jeff caught Ballinger
+by the sleeve.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Will you hold my garments while I stone Stephen?&#8221; he hissed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will,&#8221; said Leo, meeting Jeff&#8217;s eye. &#8220;Hit him once for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Move the lever to the right, you old retrograde, and get Pappy to
+gyratin&#8217; on his axis some fifteen or twenty minutes, you listenin&#8217;
+reverently. Meanwhile, I&#8217;ll make the necessary incantations. Git! Don&#8217;t
+look so blamed intelligent, or Pappy&#8217;ll be suspicious.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Bransford hastened to the kitchen. &#8220;Ma Sanders, a bronc fell on me
+yesterday and my poor body is one big stone bruise. Can I borrow some
+boiling water to mix a small prescription, or maybe seven? One when you
+first feel like it, and repeat at intervals, the doctor says.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you get full in <i>my</i> house, Jeff Bransford, or I&#8217;ll feed you to
+the hawgs. You take three doses, and that&#8217;ll be a-plenty for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff put the steaming kettle on the rusty store stove, used as a
+waste-paper basket through the long summer. Touching off the papers with
+a match, he smashed an empty box and put it in. Then he went into the
+post-office corner and laid impious hands on the United States Mail.</p>
+
+<p>First he steamed open Lake&#8217;s unregistered letter from the Land Office.
+It was merely a few typewritten lines, having no reference to the
+Butterbowl: &#8220;Enclosing the Plat of TP. 14 E. of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>First Guide Meridan
+East Range S. of 3d Standard Parallel South, as per request.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He paused to consider. His roving eye lit on the wall, where the Annual
+Report of the Governor of New Mexico hung from a nail. &#8220;The very thing,&#8221;
+he said. Pasted in the report was a folded map of the Territory. This he
+cut out, refolded it till it slipped in the violated envelope, dabbed
+the flap neatly with Pappy&#8217;s mucilage, and returned the letter to its
+proper pigeonhole.</p>
+
+<p>He replenished the fire with another box, subjected Lake&#8217;s registered
+letter to the steaming process and opened it with delicate caution. It
+was the decision; it was in Lake&#8217;s favor; and it went into the fire.
+Substituting for it the Plat of TP. 14 and the accompanying letter he
+resealed it with workmanlike neatness, and then restored it with a final
+inspection. &#8220;The editor sits on the madhouse floor, and pla-ays with the
+straws in his hair!&#8221; he murmured, beaming with complacent pride and
+reaching for the bottle.</p>
+
+<p>Pappy and Leo found him with his hands to the blaze, shivering. &#8220;I feel
+like I was going to have a chill,&#8221; he complained. But with a few
+remedial measures he recuperated sufficiently to set off for Rainbow
+after supper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Charley&#8217;s ankle seems better,&#8221; said Leo artlessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you lay no stress on Charley&#8217;s ankle,&#8221; said Jeff, in a burst of
+confidence. &#8220;Where ignorance <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>is bliss, &#8217;tis folly to be otherwise. Just
+let Charley&#8217;s ankle slip your memory.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The following day Bransford drew rein at Wes Pringle&#8217;s shack and
+summoned him forth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. John Wesley Also Ran Pringle,&#8221; he said impressively, &#8220;I have taken
+a horse-ride over here to put you through your cataclysm. Will you
+truthfully answer the rebuses I shall now propound to the best of your
+ability, and govern yourself accordingly till the surface of Hades
+congeals to glistening bergs, and that with no unseemly curiosity?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it serious?&#8221; asked Pringle anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is straight talk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pringle took a long look and held up his hand. &#8220;I will,&#8221; he said
+soberly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;John Wesley, do you or do you not believe Stephen W. Lake, of Agua
+Chiquite, to be a low-down, coniferous skunk by birth, inclination and
+training?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;John Wesley, do you or do you not possess the full confidence and
+affection of Felix, the night-hawk, otherwise known and designated as
+John Taylor, Junior, of Butterbowl, Esquire?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you, John Wesley Pringle, esteem me, Jeff Bransford, irrespective of
+color, sex or previous condition of turpitude, to be such a one as may
+be safely tied to when all the hitching-posts <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>is done pulled up, and
+will you now promise to love, honor and obey me till the cows come home,
+or till further orders?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do&mdash;I will. And may God have mercy on my soul.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here are your powders, then. Do you go and locate the above-mentioned
+and described Felix, and impart to him, under the strict seal of
+secrecy, these tidings, to wit, namely: That you have a presentiment,
+almost amounting to conviction, that the Butterbowl contest is decided
+in Lake&#8217;s favor, but that your further presentiments is that said Lake
+will not use his prior right. If Taylor should get such a decision from
+the Land Office don&#8217;t let him or Felix say a word to no one. If Mr. B.
+Body should ask, tell &#8217;em &#8217;twas a map, or land laws, or something.
+Moreover, said Felix he is not to stab, cut, pierce or otherwise
+mutilate said Lake, nor to wickedly, maliciously, feloniously and
+unlawfully fire at or upon the person of said Lake with any rifle,
+pistol, musket or gun, the same being then and there loaded with powder
+and with balls, shots, bullets or slugs of lead or other metal. You see
+to that, personal. I&#8217;d go to him myself, but he don&#8217;t know me well
+enough to have confidence in my divinations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You promulgate these prophecies as your sole personal device and
+construction&mdash;<i>sabe?</i> Then, thirty days after Lake signs a receipt for
+his decision&mdash;and you will take steps to inform yourself <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>of that&mdash;you
+sidle casually down to Roswell with old man Taylor and see that he puts
+pre&euml;mption papers on the Butterbowl. Selah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>The first knowledge Lake had of the state of affairs was when the Steam
+Pitchfork punchers informally extended to him the right hand of
+fellowship (hitherto withheld) under the impression that he had
+generously abstained from pushing home his vantage. When, in the
+mid-flood of his unaccountable popularity, the situation dawned upon
+him, he wisely held his peace. He was a victim of the accomplished fact.
+Taylor had already filed his pre&euml;mption. So Lake reaped volunteer
+harvest of good-will, bearing his honors in graceful silence.</p>
+
+<p>On Lake&#8217;s next trip to Escondido, Pappy Sanders laid aside his marked
+official hauteur. Lake stayed several days, praised the rosebush and Ma
+Sanders&#8217; cookery, and indulged in much leisurely converse with Pappy.
+Thereafter he had a private conference with Stratton, the Register of
+the Roswell Land Office. His suspicion fell quite naturally on Felix,
+and on Jeff as accessory during the fact.</p>
+
+<p>So it was that, when Jeff and Leo took in Roswell fair (where Jeff won a
+near-prize at the roping match), Hobart, the United States Marshal,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>came to their room. After introducing himself he said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Stratton would like to see you, Mr. Bransford.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, that&#8217;s all right!&#8221; said Jeff genially. &#8220;Some of my very great
+grandfolks was Dacotahs and I&#8217;ve got my name in &#8216;Who&#8217;s Sioux&#8217;&mdash;but I&#8217;m
+not proud! Trot him around. Exactly who is Stratton, anyhow?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s the Register of the Land Office&mdash;and he wants to see you there on
+very particular business. I&#8217;d go if I was you,&#8221; said the Marshal
+significantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that way!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Is this an arrest, or do you just give me
+this <i>in</i>-vite semi-officiously?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You accuse yourself, sir. Were you expecting arrest? That sounds like a
+bad conscience.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you worry about my conscience. &#8216;If I&#8217;ve ever done anything I&#8217;m
+sorry for I&#8217;m glad of it.&#8217; Now this Stratton party&mdash;is he some aged and
+venerable? &#8217;Cause, if he is, I waive ceremony and seek him in his lair
+at the witching hour of two this <i>tarde</i>. And if not, not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s old enough&mdash;even if there were no other reasons.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind any other reasons. It shall never be said that I fail to
+reverence gray hairs. I&#8217;ll be there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I guess I&#8217;ll just wait and see that you go,&#8221; said the Marshal.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you got any papers for me?&#8221; asked Jeff politely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is my room,&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;This is my fist. This is me. That is my
+door. Open it, Leo. Mr. Hobart, you will now make rapid forward motions
+with your feet, alternately, like a man removing his company from where
+it is not desired&mdash;or I&#8217;ll go through you like a domesticated cyclone.
+See you at two, sharp!&#8221; Hobart obeyed. He was a good judge of men.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff closed the door. &#8220;&#8216;We went upon the battlefield,&#8217;&#8221; he said
+plaintively, &#8220;&#8216;before us and behind us, and every which-a-way we looked,
+we seen a roscerhinus.&#8217; We went into another field&mdash;behind us and before
+us, and every which-a-way we looked, we seen a rhinusorus. Mr. Lake has
+been evidently browsin&#8217; and pe-rusing around, and poor old Pappy, not
+being posted, has likely been narratin&#8217; about Charley&#8217;s ankle and how I
+had a chill. Wough-ough!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It looks that way,&#8221; confessed Leo. &#8220;<i>Did</i> you have a chill, Jeff?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff&#8217;s eyes crinkled. &#8220;Not so nigh as I am now. But shucks! I&#8217;ve been in
+worse emergencies, and I always emerged. Thanks be, I can always do my
+best when I have to. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we don&#8217;t keep
+in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>practice! If I&#8217;d just come out straightforward and declared myself
+to Pappy, he&#8217;d &#8217;a&#8217; tightened up his drawstrings and forgot all about my
+chill. But, no, well as I know from long experience that good old human
+nature&#8217;s only too willin&#8217; to do the right thing and the fair thing&mdash;if
+somebody&#8217;ll only tip it off to &#8217;em&mdash;I must play a lone hand and not even
+call for my partner&#8217;s best. Well, I&#8217;m goin&#8217; to ramify around and
+scrutinize this here Stratton&#8217;s numbers, equipments and disposition.
+Meet me in the office at the fatal hour!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>The Marshal wore a mocking smile. Stratton, large, florid, well-fed and
+eminently respectable, turned in his revolving chair with a severe and
+majestic motion; adjusted his glasses in a prolonged and offensive
+examination, and frowned portentously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine large day, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; observed Jeff affably. &#8220;Beautiful little
+city you have here.&#8221; He sank into a chair. Smile and attitude were of
+pleased and sprightly anticipation.</p>
+
+<p>A faint flush showed beneath Stratton&#8217;s neatly-trimmed mutton-chops.
+Such jaunty bearing was exasperating to offended virtue. &#8220;Ah&mdash;who is
+this other person, Mr. Hobart?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pardon my rudeness!&#8221; Jeff sprang up and bowed brisk apology. &#8220;Mr.
+Stratton, allow me to present Mr. Ballinger, a worthy representative <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>of
+the Yellow Press. Mr. Stratton&mdash;Mr. Ballinger!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have a communication to make to you,&#8221; said the displeased Mr.
+Stratton, in icy tones, &#8220;which, in your own interest, should be
+extremely private.&#8221; The Marshal whispered to him; Stratton gave Leo a
+fiercely intimidating glare.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Communicate away,&#8221; said Jeff airily. &#8220;Excommunicate, if you want to.
+Mr. Ballinger, as a citizen, is part owner of this office. If you want
+to bar him you&#8217;ll have to change the venue to your private residence.
+And then I won&#8217;t come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, sir!&#8221; Mr. Stratton rose, inflated his chest and threw back
+his head. His voice took on a steady roll. &#8220;Mr. Bransford, you stand
+under grave displeasure of the law! You are grievously suspected of
+being cognizant of, if not actually accessory to, the robbery of the
+United States Mail by John Taylor, Junior, at Escondido, on the
+eighteenth day of last October. You may not be aware of it, but you have
+an excellent chance of serving a term in the penitentiary!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff pressed his hands between his knees and leaned forward. &#8220;I&#8217;m sure
+I&#8217;d never be satisfied there,&#8221; he said, with conviction. His white teeth
+flashed in an ingratiatory smile. &#8220;But why suspect young John?&mdash;why not
+old John?&#8221; He paused, looking at the Register attentively.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>&#8220;H&#8217;m!&mdash;you&#8217;re from Indiana, I believe, Mr. Stratton?&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The elder Taylor, on the day in question, is fully accounted for,&#8221; said
+Hobart. &#8220;Young Taylor claims to have passed the night at Willow Springs,
+alone. But no one saw him from breakfast time the seventeenth till noon
+on the nineteenth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He rarely ever has any one with him when he&#8217;s alone. That may account
+for them not seeing him at Willow,&#8221; suggested Jeff. He did not look at
+Hobart, but regarded Stratton with an air of deep meditation.</p>
+
+<p>The Register paced the floor slowly, ponderously, with an impressive
+pause at each turn, tapping his left hand with his eyeglass to score his
+points. &#8220;He had ample time to go to Escondido and return. The envelope
+in which Mr. Lake&#8217;s copy of this office&#8217;s decision in the Lake-Taylor
+contest was enclosed has been examined. It bears unmistakable signs of
+having been tampered with.&#8221; Turning to mark the effect of these tactics,
+he became aware of his victim&#8217;s contemplative gaze. It disconcerted him.
+He resumed his pacing. Jeff followed him with a steady eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the same mail I sent Mr. Lake another letter. The envelope was
+unfortunately destroyed, Mr. Lake suspecting nothing. A map had been
+substituted for its contents, and they, in turn, were substituted for
+the decision in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>registered letter, with the evident intention of
+depriving Mr. Lake of his prior right to file.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By George! It sounds probable.&#8221; Jeff laughed derisively. &#8220;So that&#8217;s it!
+And here we all thought Lake let it go out of giddy generosity! My
+stars, but won&#8217;t he get the horse-smile when the boys find out?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stratton controlled himself with an effort. &#8220;We have decided not to push
+the case against you if you will tell what you know,&#8221; he began.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff lifted his brows. &#8220;<i>We?</i> And who&#8217;s <i>we?</i> You two? I should have
+thought this was a post-office lay.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are investigating the affair,&#8221; explained Hobart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see! As private individuals. Yes, yes. Does Lake pay you by the day
+or by the job?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stratton, blazing with anger, smote his palm heavily with his fist.
+&#8220;Young man! Young man! Your insolence is unbearable! We are trying to
+spare you&mdash;as you had no direct interest in the matter and doubtless
+concealed your guilty knowledge through a mistaken and distorted sense
+of honor. But you tempt us&mdash;you tempt us! You don&#8217;t seem to realize the
+precarious situation in which you stand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What I don&#8217;t see,&#8221; said Jeff, in puzzled tones, &#8220;is why you bother to
+spare me at all. If you can prove this, why don&#8217;t you cinch me and Felix
+both? Why do you want me to tell you what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>you already know? And if you
+can&#8217;t prove it&mdash;who the hell cares what you suspect?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We will arrest you,&#8221; said Stratton thickly, &#8220;just as soon as we can
+make out the papers!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Turn your wolf loose, you four-flushers! You may make me trouble, but
+you can&#8217;t prove anything. Speaking of trouble&mdash;how about you, Mr.
+Stratton?&#8221; As a spring leaps, released from highest tension, face and
+body and voice flashed from passive indolence to sudden, startling
+attack. His arm lashed swiftly out as if to deliver the swordsman&#8217;s
+stabbing thrust; the poised body followed up to push the stroke home.
+&#8220;You think your secret safe, don&#8217;t you? It&#8217;s been some time ago.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Words only&mdash;yet it might have been a very sword&#8217;s point past Stratton&#8217;s
+guard. For the Register flinched, staggered, his arrogant face grew
+mottled, his arm went up. He fell back a step, silent, quivering,
+leaning heavily on a chair. The Marshal gave him a questioning glance.
+Jeff kept on.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re prominent in politics, business, society, the church. You&#8217;ve a
+family to think of. It&#8217;s up to you, Mr. Stratton. Is it worth while? Had
+we better drop it with a dull, sickening thud?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stratton collapsed into the chair, a shapeless bundle, turning a
+shriveled, feeble face to the Marshal in voiceless imploring.</p>
+
+<p>Unhesitating, Hobart put a hand on his shoulder. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right, old
+man! We won&#8217;t give you away. Brace up!&#8221; He nodded Jeff to the door. &#8220;You
+win!&#8221; he said. Leo followed on tiptoe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, the poor old duck!&#8221; said Jeff remorsefully, in the passage. &#8220;Wish
+I hadn&#8217;t come down on him so hard. I overdid it that time. Still, if I
+hadn&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the Hondo Bridge Jeff looked back and waved a hand. &#8220;Good-by, old
+town! Now we go, gallopy-trot, gallopy, gallopy-trot!&#8221; He sang, and the
+ringing hoofs kept time and tune,</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox3 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Florence Mehitabel Genevieve Jane,<br />
+She came home in the wind an&#8217; the rain,<br />
+She came home in the rain an&#8217; the snow;<br />
+&#8216;Ain&#8217;t a-goin&#8217; to leave my home any mo&#8217;!&#8217;&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff,&#8221; said the mystified Ballinger, spurring up beside him, &#8220;what has
+the gray-haired Register done? Has murder stained his hands with gore?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff raised his bridle hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gee! Leo, I don&#8217;t know! I just taken a chance!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<h2>THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE<br />
+WELL</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox4 bbox2"><p>&#8220;When I bend my head low and listen at the ground,<br />
+I can hear vague voices that I used to know,<br />
+Stirring in dim places, faint and restless sound;<br />
+I remember how it was when the grass began to grow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">&mdash;<i>Song of The Wandering Dust</i>,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Anna Hempstead Branch.</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he pines thinned as she neared Rainbow Rim, the turfy glades grew
+wider; she had glimpses of open country beyond&mdash;until, at last, crossing
+a little spit of high ground, she came to the fairest spot in all her
+voyage of exploration and discovery. She sank down on a fallen log with
+a little sigh of delight.</p>
+
+<p>The steep bank of a little ca&ntilde;on broke away at her feet&mdash;a ca&ntilde;on which
+here marked the frontier of the pines, its farther side overgrown with
+mahogany bush and chaparral&mdash;a ca&ntilde;on that fell in long, sinuous curves
+from the silent mystery of forest on Rainbow Crest behind her, to widen
+just below into a rolling land, parked with green-black powderpuffs of
+juniper and cedar; and so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>passed on to mystery again, twisting away
+through the folds of the low and bare gray hills to the westward, ere
+the last stupendous plunge over the Rim to the low desert, a mile toward
+the level of the waiting sea.</p>
+
+<p>Facing the explorer, across the little ca&ntilde;on, a clear spring bubbled
+from the hillside and fell with pleasant murmur and tinkle to a pool
+below, fringed with lush emerald&mdash;a spring massed about with wild
+grapevine, shining reeds of arrow-weed; a tangle of grateful greenery,
+jostling eagerly for the life-giving water. Draped in clinging vines,
+slim acacias struggled up through the jungle; the exquisite fragrance of
+their purple bells gave a final charm to the fairy chasm.</p>
+
+<p>But the larger vision! The nearer elfin beauty dwindled, was lost,
+forgotten. Afar, through a narrow cleft in the gray westward hills, the
+explorer&#8217;s eye leaped out over a bottomless gulf to a glimpse of shining
+leagues midway of the desert greatness&mdash;an ever-widening triangle that
+rose against the peaceful west to long foothill reaches, to a misty
+mountain parapet, far-beckoning, whispering of secrets, things dreamed
+of, unseen, beyond the framed and slender arc of vision. A land of
+enchantment and mystery, decked with strong barbaric colors, blue and
+red and yellow, brown and green and gray; whose changing ebb and flow,
+by some potent sorcery of atmosphere, distance and angle, altered,
+daily, hourly; deepening, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>fading, combining into new and fantastic
+lines and shapes, to melt again as swiftly to others yet more
+bewildering.</p>
+
+<p>The explorer? It may be mentioned in passing that any other would have
+found that fairest prospect even more wonderful than did the explorer,
+Miss Ellinor Hoffman. We will attempt no clear description of Miss
+Ellinor Hoffman. Dusky-beautiful she was; crisp, fresh and sparkling;
+tall, vigorous, active, strong. Yet she was more than merely
+beautiful&mdash;warm and frank and young; brave and kind and true. Perhaps,
+even more than soft curves, lips, glory of hair or bewildering eyes, or
+all together, her chiefest charm was her manner, her frank friendliness.
+Earth was sweet to her, sweeter for her.</p>
+
+<p>This by way of aside and all to no manner of good. You have no picture
+of her in your mind. Remember only that she was young&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+&#8220;The stars to drink from and the sky to dance on&#8221;<br /></p>
+
+<p>&mdash;young and happy, and therefore beautiful; that the sun was shining in
+a cloudless sky, the south wind sweet and fresh, buds in the willow.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>The peace was rent and shivered by strange sounds, as of a giant falling
+downstairs. There was a crash of breaking boughs beyond the ca&ntilde;on, a
+glint of color, a swift black body hurtling madly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>through the
+shrubbery. The girl shrank back. There was no time for thought, hardly
+for alarm. On the farther verge the bushes parted; an apparition hurled
+arching through the sunshine, down the sheer hill&mdash;a glorious and
+acrobatic horse, his black head low between his flashing feet; red
+nostrils wide with rage and fear; foam flecks white on the black
+shoulders; a tossing mane; a rider, straight and tall, superb&mdash;to all
+seeming an integral part of the horse, pitch he never so wildly.</p>
+
+<p>The girl held her breath through the splintered seconds. She thrilled at
+the shock and storm of them, straining muscles and white hoofs,
+lurching, stumbling, sliding, lunging, careening in perilous arcs. She
+saw stones that rolled with them or bounded after; a sombrero whirled
+above the dust and tumult like a dilatory parachute; a six-shooter
+jolted up into the air. Through the dust-clouds there were glimpses of a
+watchful face, hair blown back above it; a broken rein snapped beside
+it, saddle-strings streamed out behind; a supple body that swung from
+curve to easy curve against shock and plunge, that swayed and poised and
+clung, and held its desperate dominion still. The saddle slipped
+forward; with a motion incredibly swift, as a hat is whipped off in a
+gust of wind, it whisked over withers and neck and was under the furious
+feet. Swifter, the rider! Cat-quick, he swerved, lit on his feet, leaped
+aside.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>Alas, oh, rider beyond compare, undefeated champion, Pride of Rainbow!
+Alas, that such thing should be recorded! He leaped aside to shun the
+black frantic death at his shoulder; his feet were in the treacherous
+vines: he toppled, grasped vainly at an acacia, catapulted out and down,
+head first; so lit, crumpled and fell with a prodigious splash into the
+waters of the pool! <i>Ay di mi, Alhama!</i></p>
+
+<p>The blankets lay strewn along the hill; but observe that the long lead
+rope of the hackamore (a &#8220;hackamore,&#8221; properly <i>jaquima</i>, is, for your
+better understanding, merely a rope halter) was coiled at the
+saddle-horn, held there by a stout hornstring. As the black reached the
+level the saddle was at his heels. To kick was obvious, to go away not
+less so; but this new terror clung to the maddened creature in his
+frenzied flight&mdash;between his legs, in the air, at his heels, his hip,
+his neck. A low tree leaned from the hillside; the a&euml;rial saddle caught
+in the forks of it, the bronco&#8217;s head was jerked round, he was pulled to
+his haunches, overthrown; but the tough hornstring broke, the freed coil
+snapped out at him; he scrambled up and bunched his glorious muscles in
+a vain and furious effort to outrun the rope that dragged at his heels,
+and so passed from sight beyond the next curve.</p>
+
+<p>Waist-deep in the pool sat the hatless horseman, or perhaps horseless
+horseman were the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>juster term, steeped in a profound calm. That last
+phrase has a familiar sound; Mark Twain&#8217;s, doubtless&mdash;but, all things
+considered, steeped is decidedly the word. One gloved hand was in the
+water, the other in the muddy margin of the pool: he watched the final
+evolution of his late mount with meditative interest. The saddle was
+freed at last, but its ex-occupant still sat there, lost in thought.
+Blood trickled, unnoted, down his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>The last stone followed him into the pool; the echoes died on the hills.
+The spring resumed its pleasant murmur, but the tinkle of its fall was
+broken by the mimic waves of the pool. Save for this troubled sloshing
+against the banks, the slow-settling dust and the contemplative bust of
+the one-time centaur, no trace was left to mark the late disastrous
+invasion.</p>
+
+<p>The invader&#8217;s dreamy and speculative gaze followed the dust of the
+trailing rope. He opened his lips twice or thrice, and spoke, after
+several futile attempts, in a voice mild, but clearly earnest:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you little eohippus!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The spellbound girl rose. Her hand was at her throat; her eyes were big
+and round, and her astonished lips were drawn to a round, red O.</p>
+
+<p>Sharp ears heard the rustle of her skirts, her soft gasp of amazement.
+The merman turned his head briskly, his eye met hers. One gloved hand
+brushed his brow; a broad streak of mud appeared <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>there, over which the
+blood meandered uncertainly. He looked up at the maid in silence: in
+silence the maid looked down at him. He nodded, with a pleasant smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning!&#8221; he said casually.</p>
+
+<p>At this cheerful greeting, the astounded maid was near to tumbling
+after, like Jill of the song.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Er&mdash;good-morning!&#8221; she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Silence. The merman reclined gently against the bank with a comfortable
+air of satisfaction. The color came flooding back to her startled face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, are you hurt?&#8221; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>A puzzled frown struggled through the mud.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hurt?&#8221; he echoed. &#8220;Who, me?... Why, no&mdash;leastwise, I guess not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He wiggled his fingers, raised his arms, wagged his head doubtfully and
+slowly, first sidewise and then up and down; shook himself guardedly,
+and finally raised tentative boot-tips to the surface. After this
+painstaking inspection he settled contentedly back again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, I&#8217;m all right,&#8221; he reported. &#8220;Only I lost a big, black, fine,
+young, nice horse somehow. You ain&#8217;t seen nothing of him, have you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then why don&#8217;t you get out?&#8221; she demanded. &#8220;I believe you are hurt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Get out? Why, yes, ma&#8217;am. Certainly. Why not?&#8221; But the girl was already
+beginning to clamber down, grasping the shrubbery to aid in the descent.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>Now the bank was steep and sheer. So the merman rose, tactfully
+clutching the grapevines behind him as a plausible excuse for turning
+his back. It followed as a corollary of this generous act that he must
+needs be lame, which he accordingly became. As this mishap became acute,
+his quick eyes roved down the ca&ntilde;on, where he saw what gave him pause;
+and he groaned sincerely under his breath. For the black horse had taken
+to the parked uplands, the dragging rope had tangled in a snaggy
+tree-root, and he was tracing weary circles in bootless effort to be
+free.</p>
+
+<p>Tactful still, the dripping merman hobbled to the nearest shade
+wherefrom the luckless black horse should be invisible, eclipsed by the
+intervening ridge, and there sank down in a state of exhaustion, his
+back to a friendly tree-trunk.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<h2>FIRST AID</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox5 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Oh woman! in our hours of ease<br />
+Uncertain, coy and hard to please;<br />
+But seen too oft, familiar with thy face<br />
+We first endure, then pity, then embrace!&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span> moment later the girl was beside him, pity in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me see that cut on your head,&#8221; she said. She dropped on her knee
+and parted the hair with a gentle touch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, you&#8217;re real!&#8221; breathed the injured near-centaur, beaming with
+wonder and gratification.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down limply and gave way to wild laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So are you!&#8221; she retorted. &#8220;Why, that is exactly what I was thinking! I
+thought maybe I was asleep and having an extraordinary dream. That wound
+on your head is not serious, if that&#8217;s all.&#8221; She brushed back a wisp of
+hair that blew across her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hurt this head just the other day,&#8221; observed the bedraggled victim,
+as one who has an assortment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>of heads from which to choose. He pulled
+off his soaked gloves and regarded them ruefully. &#8220;&#8216;Them that go down to
+deep waters!&#8217; That was a regular triumph of matter over mind, wasn&#8217;t
+it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a wonder you&#8217;re alive! My! How frightened I was! Aren&#8217;t you
+hurt&mdash;truly? Ribs or anything?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The patient&#8217;s elbows made a convulsive movement to guard the threatened
+ribs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, ma&#8217;am. I ain&#8217;t hurt a bit&mdash;indeed I ain&#8217;t,&#8221; he said truthfully;
+but his eyes had the languid droop of one who says the thing that is
+not. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you worry none about me&mdash;not one bit. Sorry I frightened
+you. That black horse now&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He stopped to consider fully the case of
+the black horse. &#8220;Well, you see, ma&#8217;am, that black horse, he ain&#8217;t
+exactly right plumb gentle.&#8221; His eyelids drooped again.</p>
+
+<p>The girl considered. She believed him&mdash;both that he was not badly hurt
+and that the black horse was not exactly gentle. And her suspicions were
+aroused. His slow drawl was getting slower; his cowboyese broader&mdash;a
+mode of speech quite inconsistent with that first sprightly remark about
+the little eohippus. What manner of cowboy was this, from whose tongue a
+learned scientific term tripped spontaneously in so stressful a
+moment&mdash;who quoted scraps of the litany unaware? Also, her own eyes were
+none of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>slowest. She had noted that the limping did not begin until
+he was clear of the pool. Still, that might happen if one were excited;
+but this one had been singularly calm, &#8220;more than usual ca&#8217;m,&#8221; she
+mentally quoted.... Of course, if he really were badly hurt&mdash;which she
+didn&#8217;t believe one bit&mdash;a little bruised and jarred, maybe&mdash;the only
+thing for her to do would be to go back to camp and get help.... That
+meant the renewal of Lake&#8217;s hateful attentions and&mdash;for the other girls,
+the sharing of her find.... She stole another look at her find and
+thrilled with all the pride of the discoverer.... No doubt he was shaken
+and bruised, after all. He must be suffering. What a splendid rider he
+was!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What made you so absurd? Why didn&#8217;t you get out of the water, then, if
+you are not hurt?&#8221; she snapped suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>The drooped lids raised; brown eyes looked steadily into brown eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t want to wake up,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>The candor of this explanation threw her, for the moment, into a vivid
+and becoming confusion. The dusky roses leaped to her cheeks; the long,
+dark lashes quivered and fell. Then she rose to the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And how about the little eohippus?&#8221; she demanded. &#8220;That doesn&#8217;t seem to
+go well with some of your other talk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; He regarded her with pained but unflinching <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>innocence. &#8220;The
+Latin, you mean? Why, ma&#8217;am, that&#8217;s most all the Latin I know&mdash;that and
+some more big words in that song. I learned that song off of Frank John,
+just like a poll-parrot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sing it! And eohippus isn&#8217;t Latin. It&#8217;s Greek.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, ma&#8217;am, I can&#8217;t, just now&mdash;I&#8217;m so muddy; but I&#8217;ll tell it to you.
+Maybe I&#8217;ll sing it to you some other time.&#8221; A sidelong glance
+accompanied this little suggestion. The girl&#8217;s face was blank and
+non-committal; so he resumed: &#8220;It goes like this:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Said the little Eohippus,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8216;I&#8217;m going to be a horse,</span><br />
+And on my middle fingernails<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To run my earthly course&#8217;&mdash;&mdash;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;No; that wasn&#8217;t the first. It begins:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;There was once a little animal<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No bigger than a fox,</span><br />
+And on five toes he scampered&mdash;&mdash;</p></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course you know, ma&#8217;am&mdash;Frank John he told me about it&mdash;that horses
+were little like that, &#8217;way back. And this one he set his silly head
+that he was going to be a really-truly horse, like the song says. And
+folks told him he couldn&#8217;t&mdash;couldn&#8217;t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>possibly be done, nohow. And sure
+enough he did. It&#8217;s a foolish song, really. I only sing parts of it when
+I feel like that&mdash;like it couldn&#8217;t be done and I was going to do it, you
+know. The boys call it my song. Look here, ma&#8217;am!&#8221; He fished in his vest
+pocket and produced tobacco and papers, matches&mdash;last of all, a tiny
+turquoise horse, an inch long. &#8220;I had a jeweler-man put five toes on his
+feet once to make him be a little eohippus. Going to make a watch-charm
+of him sometime. He&#8217;s a lucky little eohippus, I think. Peso gave him to
+me when&mdash;never mind when. Peso&#8217;s a Mescalero Indian, you know, chief of
+police at the agency.&#8221; He gingerly dropped the little horse into her
+eager palm.</p>
+
+<p>It was a singularly grotesque and angular little beast, high-stepping,
+high-headed, with a level stare, at once complacent and haughty. Despite
+the first unprepossessing rigidity of outline, there was somehow a
+sprightly air, something endearing, in the stiff, purposed stride, the
+alert, inquiring ears, the stern and watchful eye. Each tiny hoof was
+faintly graven to semblance of five tinier toes; there, the work showed
+fresh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The cunning little monster!&#8221; Prison grime was on him; she groomed and
+polished at his dingy sides until the wonderful color shone out
+triumphant. &#8220;What is it that makes him such a dear? Oh, I know. It&#8217;s
+something&mdash;well, childlike, you know. Think of the grown-up child that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>toiled with pride and joy at the making of him&mdash;dear me, how many
+lifetimes since!&mdash;and fondly put him by as a complete horse.&#8221; She held
+him up in the sun: the ingrate met her caress with the same obdurate and
+indomitable glare. She laughed her rapturous delight: &#8220;There! How much
+better you look! Oh, you darling! Aren&#8217;t you absurd? Straight-backed,
+stiff-legged, thick-necked, square-headed&mdash;and that ridiculously baleful
+eye! It&#8217;s too high up and too far forward, you know&mdash;and your ears are
+too big&mdash;and you have such a malignant look! Never mind; now that you&#8217;re
+all nice and clean, I&#8217;m going to reward you.&#8221; Her lips just brushed
+him&mdash;the lucky little eohippus.</p>
+
+<p>The owner of the lucky little horse was not able to repress one swift,
+dismal glance at his own vast dishevelment, nor, as his shrinking hands,
+entirely of their own volition, crept stealthily to hiding, the
+slightest upward rolling of a hopeful eye toward the leaping waters of
+the spring; but, if one might judge from her sedate and matter-of-fact
+tones, that eloquent glance was wasted on the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You ought to take better care of him, you know,&#8221; she said as she
+restored the little monster to his owner. Then she laughed. &#8220;Hasn&#8217;t he a
+fierce and warlike appearance, though?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure. That&#8217;s resolution. Look at those legs!&#8221; said the owner fondly.
+&#8220;He spurns the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>ground. He&#8217;s going somewheres. He&#8217;s going to be a horse!
+And them ears&mdash;one cocked forward and the other back, strictly on the
+<i>cuidado</i>! He&#8217;ll make it. He&#8217;ll certainly do to take along! Yes, ma&#8217;am,
+I&#8217;ll take right good care of him.&#8221; He regarded the homely beast with
+awe; he swathed him in cigarette papers with tenderest care. &#8220;I&#8217;ll leave
+him at home after this. He might get hurt. I might sometime want to give
+him to&mdash;somebody.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl sprang up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now I must get some water and wash that head,&#8221; she announced briskly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no&mdash;I can&#8217;t let you do that. I can walk. I ain&#8217;t hurt a bit, I keep
+telling you.&#8221; In proof of which he walked to the pool with a palpably
+clever assumption of steadiness. The girl fluttered solicitous at his
+elbow. Then she ran ahead, climbed up to the spring and extended a firm,
+cool hand, which he took shamelessly, and so came to the fairy
+waterfall.</p>
+
+<p>Here he made himself presentable as to face and hands. It is just
+possible there was a certain expectancy in his eye as he neared the
+close of these labors; but if there were it passed unnoted. The girl
+bathed the injured head with her handkerchief, and brushed back his hair
+with a dainty caressing motion that thrilled him until the color rose
+beneath the tan. There was a glint of gray in the wavy black hair, she
+noted.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p><p>She stepped back to regard her handiwork. &#8220;Now you look better!&#8221; she
+said approvingly. Then, slightly flurried, not without a memory of a
+previous and not dissimilar remark of hers, she was off up the hill:
+whence, despite his shocked protest, she brought back the lost gun and
+hat.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were sparkling when she returned, her face glowing. Ignoring
+his reproachful gaze, she wrung out her handkerchief, led the patient
+firmly down the hill and to his saddle, made him trim off a
+saddle-string, and bound the handkerchief to the wound. She fitted the
+sombrero gently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There! Don&#8217;t this head feel better now?&#8221; she queried gayly, with fine
+disregard for grammar. &#8220;And now what? Won&#8217;t you come back to camp with
+me? Mr. Lake will be glad to put you up or to let you have a horse. Do
+you live far away? I do hope you are not one of those Rosebud men. Mr.
+La&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She bit her speech off midword.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No men there except this Mr. Lake?&#8221; asked the cowboy idly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes; there&#8217;s Mr. Herbert&mdash;he&#8217;s gone riding with Lettie&mdash;and Mr.
+White; but it was Mr. Lake who got up the camping party. Mother and Aunt
+Lot, and a crowd of us girls&mdash;La Luz girls, you know. Mother and I are
+visiting Mr. Lake&#8217;s sister. He&#8217;s going to give us a masquerade ball when
+we get back, next week.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>The cowboy looked down his nose for consultation, and his nose gave a
+meditative little tweak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What Lake is it? There&#8217;s some several Lakes round here. Is it Lake of
+Aqua Chiquite&mdash;wears his hair d&eacute;collet&eacute;; talks like he had a washboard
+in his throat; tailor-made face; walks like a duck on stilts; general
+sort of pouter-pigeon effect?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At this envenomed description, Miss Ellinor Hoffman promptly choked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know anything about your Aqua Chiquite. I never heard of the
+place before. He is a banker in Arcadia. He keeps a general store there.
+You must know him, surely.&#8221; So far her voice was rather stern and
+purposely resentful, as became Mr. Lake&#8217;s guest; but there were
+complications, rankling memories of Mr. Lake&mdash;of unwelcome attentions
+persistently forced upon her. She spoiled the rebuke by adding tartly,
+&#8220;But I think he is the man you mean!&#8221; and felt her wrongs avenged.</p>
+
+<p>The cowboy&#8217;s face cleared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t use Arcadia much, you see. I mostly range down Rainbow
+River. Arcadia folks&mdash;why, they&#8217;re mostly newcomers, health-seekers and
+people just living on their incomes&mdash;not working folks much, except the
+railroaders and lumbermen. Now about getting home. You see, ma&#8217;am, some
+of the boys are riding down that way&#8221;&mdash;he jerked his thumb to indicate
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>last flight of the imperfectly gentle horse&mdash;&#8220;and they&#8217;re right apt
+to see my runaway eohippus and sure to see the rope-drag; so they&#8217;ll
+likely amble along the back track to see how much who&#8217;s hurt. So I guess
+I&#8217;d better stay here. They may be along most any time. Thank you kindly,
+just the same. Of course, if they don&#8217;t come at all&mdash;&mdash;Is your camp
+far?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not&mdash;not very,&#8221; said Ellinor. The mere fact was that Miss Ellinor had
+set out ostensibly for a sketching expedition with another girl, had
+turned aside to explore, and exploring had fetched a circuit that had
+left her much closer to her starting-place than to her goal. He
+misinterpreted the slight hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ma&#8217;am, thank you again; but I mustn&#8217;t be keeping you longer. I
+really ought to see you safe back to your camp; but&mdash;you&#8217;ll
+understand&mdash;under the circumstances&mdash;you&#8217;ll excuse me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did not want to implicate Mr. Lake, so he took a limping step forward
+to justify his rudeness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you hardly able to walk? Ridiculous! What I ought to do is to go
+back to camp and get some one&mdash;get Mr. White to help you.&#8221; Thus, at once
+accepting his unspoken explanation, and offering her own apology in
+turn, she threw aside the air of guarded hostility that had marked the
+last minutes and threw herself anew into this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>joyous adventure.
+&#8220;When&mdash;or if&mdash;your friends find you, won&#8217;t it hurt you to ride?&#8221; she
+asked, and smiled deliberate encouragement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can be as modest as anybody when there&#8217;s anything to be modest about;
+but in this case I guess I&#8217;ll now declare that I can ride anything that
+a saddle will stay on.... I reckon,&#8221; he added reflectively, &#8220;the boys&#8217;ll
+have right smart to say about me being throwed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you weren&#8217;t thrown! You rode magnificently!&#8221; Her eyes flashed
+admiration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes&#8217;m. That&#8217;s what I hoped you&#8217;d say,&#8221; said the admired one
+complacently. &#8220;Go on, ma&#8217;am. Say it again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was splendid! The saddle turned&mdash;that&#8217;s all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He slowly surveyed the scene of his late exploit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye&mdash;es, that was some riding&mdash;for a while,&#8221; he admitted. &#8220;But you see,
+that saddle now, scarred up that way&mdash;why, they&#8217;ll think the eohippus
+wasted me and then dragged the saddle off under a tree. Leastways,
+they&#8217;ll say they think so, frequent. Best not to let on and to make no
+excuses. It&#8217;ll be easier that way. We&#8217;re great on guying here. That&#8217;s
+most all the fun we have. We sure got this joshing game down fine. Just
+wondering what all the boys&#8217;d say&mdash;that was why I didn&#8217;t get out of the
+water at first, before&mdash;before I thought I was asleep, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;So you&#8217;ll actually tell a lie to keep from being thought a liar? I&#8217;m
+disappointed in you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, ma&#8217;am, I won&#8217;t say anything. They&#8217;ll do the talking.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be deceitful, just the same,&#8221; she began, and checked herself
+suddenly. A small twinge struck her at the thought of poor Maud, really
+sketching on Thumb Butte, and now disconsolately wondering what had
+become of lunch and fellow-artist; but she quelled this pang with a sage
+thought of the greatest good to the greatest number, and clapped her
+hands in delight. &#8220;Oh, what a silly I am, to be sure! I&#8217;ve got a lunch
+basket up there, but I forgot all about it in the excitement. I&#8217;m sure
+there&#8217;s plenty for two. Shall I bring it down to you or can you climb up
+if I help you? There&#8217;s water in the canteen&mdash;and it&#8217;s beautiful up
+there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can make it, I guess,&#8221; said the invited guest&mdash;the consummate and
+unblushing hypocrite. Make it he did, with her strong hand to aid; and
+the glen rang to the laughter of them. While behind them, all unnoted,
+Johnny Dines reined up on the hillside; took one sweeping glance at that
+joyous progress, the scarred hillside, the saddle and the dejected
+eohippus in the background; grinned comprehension, and discreetly
+withdrew.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<h2>MAXWELTON BRAES</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox6 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Oh the song&mdash;the song in the blood!<br />
+Magic walks the forest; there&#8217;s bewitchment on the air&mdash;<br />
+Spring is at the flood!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<i>The Gypsy Heart.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;Well, sir, this here feller, he lit a cigarette an&#8217; throwed
+away the match, an&#8217; it fell in a powder kaig; an&#8217; do you know,
+more&#8217;n half that powder burned up before they could put it out!
+Yes, sir!&#8221;&mdash;<span class="smcap">Wildcat Thompson.</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">E</span>llinor opened her basket and spread its tempting wares with pretty
+hostly care&mdash;or is there such a word as hostessly?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There! All ready, Mr.&mdash;&mdash;I declare, this is too absurd! We don&#8217;t even
+know each other&#8217;s names!&#8221; Her conscious eye fell upon the ampleness of
+the feast&mdash;amazing, since it purported to have been put up for one
+alone; and her face lit up with mischievous delight. She curtsied. &#8220;If
+you please, I&#8217;m the Ultimate Consumer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He rose, bowing gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am the Personal Devil. Glad to meet you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! I&#8217;ve heard of you!&#8221; remarked the Ultimate Consumer sweetly. She sat
+down and extended <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>her hand across the spotless linen. &#8220;Mr. Lake
+says&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Personal Devil flushed. It was not because of the proffered hand,
+which he took unhesitatingly and held rather firmly. The blush was
+unmistakably caused by anger.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is no connection whatever,&#8221; he stated, grimly enough, &#8220;between
+the truth and Mr. Lake&#8217;s organs of speech.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; cried the Ultimate Consumer triumphantly. &#8220;So you&#8217;re Mr. Beebe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bransford&mdash;Jeff Bransford,&#8221; corrected the Personal Devil crustily. He
+wilfully relapsed to his former slipshod speech. &#8220;Beebe, he&#8217;s gone to
+the Pecos work, him and Ballinger. Mr. John Wesley Also-Ran Pringle&#8217;s
+gone to Old Mexico to bring back another bunch of black, long-horned
+Chihuahuas. You now behold before you the last remaining Rose of
+Rosebud. But, why Beebe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why does Mr. Lake hate all of you so, Mr. Bransford?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Because we are infamous scoundrels. Why Beebe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t eat with one hand, Mr. Bransford,&#8221; she said demurely. He looked
+at the prisoned hand with a start and released it grudgingly. &#8220;Help
+yourself,&#8221; said his hostess cheerfully. &#8220;There&#8217;s sandwiches, and roast
+beef and olives, for a mild beginning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why Beebe?&#8221; he said doggedly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Help yourself to the salad and then please pass it over this way. Thank
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why Beebe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, very well then! Because of the little eohippus, you know&mdash;and other
+things you said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see!&#8221; said the aggrieved Bransford. &#8220;Because I&#8217;m not from Ohio, like
+Beebe, I&#8217;m not supposed&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, if you&#8217;re going to be fussy! I&#8217;m from California myself, Mr.
+Bransford. Out in the country at that. Don&#8217;t let&#8217;s quarrel, please. We
+were having such a lovely time. And I&#8217;ll tell you a secret. It&#8217;s
+ungrateful of me, and I ought not to; but I don&#8217;t care&mdash;I don&#8217;t like Mr.
+Lake much since we came on this trip. And I don&#8217;t believe&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She
+paused, pinkly conscious of the unconventional statement involved in
+this sudden unbelief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&mdash;&mdash;what Lake says about us?&#8221; A much-mollified Bransford finished the
+sentence for her.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. Then, to change the subject:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do speak cowboy talk one minute&mdash;and all booky, polite and proper
+the next, you know. Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bad associations,&#8221; said Bransford ambiguously. &#8220;Also for &#8217;tis my nature
+to, as little dogs they do delight to bark and bite. That beef sure
+tastes like more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>&#8220;And now you may smoke while I pack up,&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>announced the girl when
+dessert was over, at long last. &#8220;And please, there is something I want
+to ask you about. Will you tell me truly?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Um&mdash;you sing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;a little.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you will sing for me afterward?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly. With pleasure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, then. What&#8217;s the story about?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ellinor gave him her eyes. &#8220;Did you rob the post-office at
+Escondido&mdash;really?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Now it might well be embarrassing to be asked if you had committed a
+felony; but there was that behind the words of this na&iuml;ve query&mdash;in
+look, in tone, in mental attitude&mdash;an unflinching and implicit faith
+that, since he had seen fit to do this thing, it must needs have been
+the right and wise thing to do, which stirred the felon&#8217;s pulses to a
+pleasant flutter and caused a certain tough and powerful muscle to thump
+foolishly at his ribs. The delicious intimacy, the baseless faith, was
+sweet to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure, I did!&#8221; he answered lightly. &#8220;Lake is one talkative little man,
+isn&#8217;t he? Fie, fie! But, shucks! What can you expect? &#8216;The beast will do
+after his kind.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;ll tell me about it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After I smoke. Got to study up some plausible excuses, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She studied him as she packed. It was a good face&mdash;lined, strong,
+expressive, vivid; gay, resolute, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>confident, alert&mdash;reckless, perhaps.
+There were lines of it disused, fallen to abeyance. What was well with
+the man had prospered; what was ill with him had faded and dimmed. He
+was not a young man&mdash;thirty-seven, thirty-eight&mdash;(she was
+twenty-four)&mdash;but there was an unquenchable boyishness about him,
+despite the few frosty hairs at his temples. He bore his hard years
+jauntily: youth danced in his eyes. The explorer nodded to herself, well
+pleased. He was interesting&mdash;different.</p>
+
+<p>The tale suffered from Bransford&#8217;s telling, as any tale will suffer when
+marred by the inevitable, barbarous modesty of its hero. It was a long
+story, cozily confidential; and there were interruptions. The sun was
+low ere it was done.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now the song,&#8221; said Jeff, &#8220;and then&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He did not complete the
+sentence; his face clouded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What shall I sing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How can I tell? What you will. What can I know about good songs&mdash;or
+anything else?&#8221; responded Bransford in sudden moodiness and
+dejection&mdash;for, after the song, the end of everything! He flinched at
+the premonition of irrevocable loss.</p>
+
+<p>The girl made no answer. This is what she sang. No; you shall not be
+told of her voice. Perhaps there is a voice that you remember, that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>echoes to you through the dusty years. How would you like to describe
+that?</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox6 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Oh, Sandy has monie and Sandy has land,<br />
+And Sandy has housen, sae fine and sae grand&mdash;<br />
+But I&#8217;d rather hae Jamie, wi&#8217; nocht in his hand,<br />
+Than Sandy, wi&#8217; all of his housen and land.<br />
+<br />
+&#8220;My father looks sulky; my mither looks soor;<br />
+They gloom upon Jamie because he is poor.<br />
+I lo&#8217;e them baith dearly, as a docther should do;<br />
+But I lo&#8217;e them not half sae weel, dear Jamie, as you!<br />
+<br />
+&#8220;I sit at my cribbie, I spin at my wheel;<br />
+I think o&#8217; the laddie that lo&#8217;es me sae weel.<br />
+Oh, he had but a saxpence, he brak it in twa,<br />
+And he gied me the half o&#8217;t ere he gaed awa&#8217;!<br />
+<br />
+&#8220;He said: &#8216;Lo&#8217;e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa&#8217;!&#8217;<br />
+He said: &#8216;Lo&#8217;e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa&#8217;!&#8217;<br />
+Bland simmer is cooming; cauld winter&#8217;s awa&#8217;,<br />
+And I&#8217;ll wed wi&#8217; Jamie in spite o&#8217; them a&#8217;!&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>Jeff&#8217;s back was to a tree, his hat over his eyes. He pushed it up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; he said; and then, quite directly: &#8220;Are you rich?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not&mdash;very,&#8221; said Ellinor, a little breathless at the blunt query.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to be rich,&#8221; said Jeff steadily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I&#8217;m going to be a horse,&#8217; quoth the little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>eohippus.&#8221; The girl
+retorted saucily, though secretly alarmed at the import of this
+examination.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ex-actly. So that&#8217;s settled. What is your name?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hoffman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where do you live, Hoffman?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ellinor,&#8221; supplemented the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ellinor, then. Where do you live, Ellinor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In New York&mdash;just now. Not in town. Upstate. On a farm. You see,
+grandfather&#8217;s growing old&mdash;and he wanted father to come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;New York&#8217;s not far,&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden panic seized the girl. What next? In swift, instinctive
+self-defense she rose and tripped to the tree where lay her neglected
+sketch-book, bent over&mdash;and started back with a little cry of alarm.
+With a spring and a rush, Jeff was at her side, caught her up and glared
+watchfully at bush and shrub and tufted grass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Bransford! Put me down!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What was it? A rattlesnake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A snake? What an idea! I just noticed how late it was. I must go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Crestfallen, sheepishly, Mr. Bransford put her down, thrust his hands
+into his pockets, tilted his chin and whistled an aggravating little
+trill from the Rye twostep.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Bransford!&#8221; said Ellinor haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford&#8217;s face expressed patient attention.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Are you lame?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford&#8217;s eye estimated the distance covered during the recent
+snake episode, and then gave to Miss Hoffman a look of profound respect.
+His shoulders humped up slightly; his head bowed to the stroke: he stood
+upon one foot and traced the Rainbow brand in the dust with the other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told you all along I wasn&#8217;t hurt,&#8221; he said aggrieved. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t I,
+now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you lame?&#8221; she repeated severely, ignoring his truthful saying.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Not&mdash;very.&#8217;&#8221; The quotation marks were clearly audible.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you lame at all?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, ma&#8217;am&mdash;not what you might call really lame. Uh&mdash;no, ma&#8217;am.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you deceived me like that!&#8221; Indignation checked her. &#8220;Oh, I am so
+disappointed in you! That was a fine, manly thing for you to do!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was such a lovely time,&#8221; observed the culprit doggedly. &#8220;And such a
+chance might never happen again. And it isn&#8217;t my fault I wasn&#8217;t hurt,
+you know. I&#8217;m sure I wish I was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She gave him an icy glare.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now see what you&#8217;ve done! Your men haven&#8217;t come and you won&#8217;t stay with
+Mr. Lake. How are you going to get home? Oh, I forgot&mdash;you can walk, as
+you should have done at first.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The guilty wretch wilted yet further. He shuffled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>his feet; he writhed;
+he positively squirmed. He ventured a timid upward glance. It seemed to
+give him courage. Prompted, doubtless, by the same feeling which drives
+one to dive headlong into dreaded cold water, he said, in a burst of
+candor:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you see, ma&#8217;am, that little horse now&mdash;he really ain&#8217;t got far.
+He got tangled up over there a <span style="white-space: nowrap">ways&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>The girl wheeled and shot a swift, startled glance at the little
+eohippus on the hillside, who had long since given over his futile
+struggles and was now nibbling grass with becoming resignation. She
+turned back to Bransford. Slowly, scathingly, she looked him over from
+head to foot and slowly back again. Her expression ran the
+gamut&mdash;wonder, anger, scorn, withering contempt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think I hate you!&#8221; she flamed at him.</p>
+
+<p>Amazement triumphed over the other emotions then&mdash;a real amazement: the
+detected impostor had resumed his former debonair bearing and met her
+scornful eye with a slow and provoking smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, you don&#8217;t,&#8221; he said reassuringly. &#8220;On the contrary, you don&#8217;t
+hate me at all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going home, anyhow,&#8221; she retorted bitterly. &#8220;You may draw your own
+conclusions.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still, she did not go, which possibly had a confusing effect upon his
+inferences.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just one minute, ma&#8217;am, if you please. How <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>did you know so pat where
+the little black horse was? <i>I</i> didn&#8217;t tell you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Little waves of scarlet followed each other to her burning face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not going to stay another moment. You&#8217;re detestable! And it&#8217;s
+nearly sundown.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you needn&#8217;t hurry. It&#8217;s not far.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She followed his gesture. To her intense mortification she saw the blue
+smoke of her home campfire flaunting up from a gully not half a mile
+away. It was her turn to droop now. She drooped.</p>
+
+<p>There was a painful silence. Then, in a far-off, hard, judicial tone:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How long, ma&#8217;am, if I may ask, have you known that the little black
+horse was tangled up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor&#8217;s eyes shifted wildly. She broke a twig from a mahogany
+bush and examined the swelling buds with minutest care.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; said her ruthless inquisitor sternly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Since&mdash;since I went for your hat,&#8221; she confessed in a half whisper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To deceive me so!&#8221; Pain, grief, surprise, reproach, were in his words.
+&#8220;Have you anything to say?&#8221; he added sadly.</p>
+
+<p>A slender shoe peeped out beneath her denim skirt and tapped on a buried
+boulder. Ellinor regarded the toetip with interest and curiosity. Then,
+half-audibly:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;We were having such a good time.... And it might never happen again!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He captured both her hands. She drew back a little&mdash;ever so little; she
+trembled slightly, but her eyes met his frankly and bravely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no!... Not now.... Go, now, Mr. Bransford. Go at once. We will have
+a pleasant day to remember.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Until the next pleasant day,&#8221; said resolute Bransford, openly exultant.
+&#8220;But see here, now&mdash;I can&#8217;t go to Lake&#8217;s camp or to Lake&#8217;s ball&#8221;&mdash;here
+Miss Ellinor pouted distinctly&mdash;&#8220;or anything that is Lake&#8217;s. After your
+masked ball, then what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;New York; but it&#8217;s only so far&mdash;on the map.&#8221; She held her hands apart
+very slightly to indicate the distance. &#8220;On a little map, that is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll drop in Saturdays,&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do! I want to hear you sing the rest about the little eohippus.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ll sing about Sandy!&#8221; suggested Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not? Good-by now&mdash;I must go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you won&#8217;t sing about Sandy to any one else?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl considered doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;I don&#8217;t know&mdash;I&#8217;ve known you for a very little while, if you
+please.&#8221; She gathered up her belongings. &#8220;But we&#8217;re friends?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>No! No!</i>&#8221; said Jeff vehemently. &#8220;You won&#8217;t sing it to any one
+else&mdash;Ellinor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p><p>She drew a line in the dust.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you won&#8217;t cross that line,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford grasped a sapling with a firm clutch and shook it to try
+its strength.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A bird in the bush is the noblest work of God,&#8221; he announced. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+take a chance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were shining.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve promised!&#8221; she said. She paused: when she spoke again her voice
+was low and a trifle unsteady. &#8220;I won&#8217;t sing about Sandy to&mdash;any one
+else&mdash;Jeff!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then she fled.</p>
+
+<p>Like Lot&#8217;s wife, she looked back from the hillside. Jeff clung
+desperately to the sapling with one hand; from the other a
+handkerchief&mdash;hers&mdash;fluttered a good-by message. She threw him a
+farewell, with an ambiguous gesture.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>It was late when Jeff reached Rosebud Camp. He unsaddled Nigger Baby,
+the little and not entirely gentle black horse, rather unobtrusively;
+but Johnny Dines sauntered out during the process, announcing supper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; sniffed Jeff. &#8220;S&#8217;pose I thought you&#8217;d wait until I come to get
+it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nothing more alarming than tallies was broached during supper, however.
+Afterward, Johnny tilted his chair back and, through cigarette <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>smoke,
+contemplated the ceiling with innocent eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nigger Babe looks drawed,&#8221; he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Uh-huh. Had one of them poor spells of his.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Puff, puff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your saddle&#8217;s skinned up a heap.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Run under a tree.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Johnny&#8217;s look of innocence grew more pronounced.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;d you get your clothes so wet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rain,&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>Puff, puff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You look right muddy too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dust in the air,&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&mdash;yes.&#8221; Silence during the rolling of another cigarette. Then:
+&#8220;How&#8217;d you get that cut on your head?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff&#8217;s hand went to his head and felt the bump there. He regarded his
+fingers in some perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That? Oh, that&#8217;s where I bit myself!&#8221; He stalked off to bed in gloomy
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later Johnny called softly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff grunted sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Camping party down near Mayhill. Lot o&#8217; girls. I saw one of &#8217;em. Young
+person with eyes and hair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff grunted again. There was a long silence.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Nice bear!&#8221; There was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Good</i> old bear!&#8221; said Johnny tearfully. No answer. &#8220;Mister Bear, if I
+give you one nice, good, juicy <span style="white-space: nowrap">bite&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>U&mdash;ugg&mdash;rrh!</i>&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; said Johnny decidedly, &#8220;I&#8217;ll sleep in the yard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<h2>THE ROAD TO ROME</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Behold, one journeyed in the night.<br />
+He sang amid the wind and rain;<br />
+My wet sands gave his feet delight&mdash;<br />
+When will that traveler come again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">&mdash;<i>The Heart of the Road</i>,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Anna Hempstead Branch.</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span> hypotenuse, as has been well said, is the longest side of a
+right-angled triangle. There is no need for details. That we are all
+familiar with the use of this handy little article is shown by the
+existence of shortcuts at every available opportunity, and by
+keep-off-o&#8217;-the-grass signs in parks.</p>
+
+<p>Now, had Jeff Bransford desired to go to Arcadia&mdash;to that masquerade,
+for instance&mdash;his direct route from Jackson&#8217;s Ranch would have been
+cater-cornered across the desert, as has been amply demonstrated by
+Pythagoras and others.</p>
+
+<p>That Jeff did not want to go to Arcadia&mdash;to the masked ball, for
+instance&mdash;is made apparent by the fact that the afternoon preceding said
+ball saw him jogging southward toward Baird&#8217;s, along the lonely base of
+that inveterate triangle whereof <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>Jackson&#8217;s, Baird&#8217;s and Arcadia are the
+respective corners, leaving the fifty-five-mile hypotenuse far to his
+left. It was also obvious from the tenor of his occasional
+self-communings.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want to make a bally fool of myself&mdash;do I, old Grasshopper?
+Anyhow, you&#8217;ll be too tired when we get to &#8217;Gene&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Grasshopper made no response, other than a plucky tossing of his bit and
+a quickening cadence in his rhythmical stride, by way of pardonable
+bravado.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never forced myself in where my company wasn&#8217;t wanted yet, and I
+ain&#8217;t going to begin now,&#8221; asserted Jeff stoutly; adding, as a fervent
+afterthought: &#8220;Damn Lake!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His way lay along the plain, paralleling the long westward range, just
+far enough out to dodge the jutting foothills; through bare white levels
+where Grasshopper&#8217;s hoofs left but a faint trace on the hard-glazed
+earth. At intervals, tempting cross-roads branched away to mountain
+springs. The cottonwood at Independent Springs came into view round the
+granite shoulder of Strawberry, six miles to the right of him. He roused
+himself from prolonged pondering of the marvelous silhouette, where San
+Andres unflung in broken masses against the sky, to remark in a hushed
+whisper:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if she&#8217;d be glad to see me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Several miles later he quoted musingly:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><div class="centerbox7 bbox2"><p>&#8220;For Ellinor&mdash;her Christian name was Ellinor&mdash;<br />
+Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her!&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>After all, there are problems which Pythagoras never solved.</p>
+
+<p>The longest road must have an end. Ritch&#8217;s Ranch was passed far to the
+right, lying low in the long shadow of Kaylor; then the mouth of
+Hembrillo Ca&ntilde;on; far ahead, a shifting flicker of Baird&#8217;s windmill
+topped the brush. It grew taller; the upper tower took shape. He dipped
+into the low, mirage-haunted basin, where the age-old Texas Trail
+crosses the narrow western corner of the White Sands. When he emerged
+the windmill was tall and silver-shining; the low iron roofs of the
+house gloomed sullen in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>Dust rose from the corral. Now Jeff&#8217;s ostensible errand to the West Side
+had been the search for strays; three days before he had prudently been
+three days&#8217; ride farther to the north. The reluctance with which he had
+turned back southward was justified by the fact that this critical
+afternoon found him within striking distance of Arcadia&mdash;striking
+distance, that is, should he care for a bit of hard riding. This was
+exactly what Jeff had fought against all along. So, when he saw the
+dust, he loped up.</p>
+
+<p>It was as he had feared. A band of horses was in the waterpen; among
+them a red-roan head he knew&mdash;Copperhead, of Pringle&#8217;s mount; confirmed
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>runaway. Jeff shut the gate. For the first time that day, he permitted
+himself a discreet glance eastward to Arcadia.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Three days,&#8221; he said bitterly, while Grasshopper thrust his eager
+muzzle into the water-trough&mdash;&#8220;three days I have braced back my feet and
+slid, like a yearlin&#8217; at a brandin&#8217; bee&mdash;and look at me now! Oh,
+Copperhead, you darned old fool, see what you done now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In this morose mood he went to the house. There was no one at home. A
+note was tacked on the door.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Gone to Plomo. Back in two or three days. Beef hangs under
+platform on windmill tower. When you get it, oil the mill.
+Books and deck of cards in box under bed. Don&#8217;t leave fire in
+stove when you go.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">Gene Baird.</span></span></p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">N. B.&mdash;Feed the cat.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Jeff built a fire in the stove and unsaddled the weary Grasshopper. He
+found some corn, which he put into a woven-grass <i>morral</i> and hung on
+Grasshopper&#8217;s nose. He went to the waterpen, roped out Copperhead and
+shut him in a side corral. Then he let the bunch go. They strained
+through the gate in a mad run, despite shrill and frantic remonstrance
+from Copperhead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff,&#8221; said Jeff soberly, &#8220;are you going to be a damned fool all your
+life? That girl doesn&#8217;t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>care anything about you. She hasn&#8217;t thought of
+you since. You stay right here and read the pretty books. That&#8217;s the
+place for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This advice was sound and wise beyond cavil. So Jeff took it valiantly.
+After supper he hobbled Grasshopper and took off the nosebag. Then he
+went to the back room in pursuit of literature.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Have I leave for a slight digression, to commit a long-delayed act of
+justice&mdash;to correct a grievous wrong? Thank you.</p>
+
+<p>We hear much of Mr. Andrew Carnegie and His Libraries, the Hall of Fame,
+the Little Red Schoolhouse, the Five-Foot Shelf, and the World&#8217;s Best
+Books. A singular thing is that the most effective bit of philanthropy
+along these lines has gone unrecorded of a thankless world. This shall
+no longer be.</p>
+
+<p>Know, then, that once upon a time a certain soulless corporation, rather
+in the tobacco trade, placed in each package of tobacco a coupon, each
+coupon redeemable by one paper-bound book. Whether they were moved by
+remorse to this action or by sordid hidden purposes of their own, or,
+again, by pure, disinterested and farseeing love of their kind, is not
+yet known; but the results remain. There were three hundred and three
+volumes on that list, mostly&mdash;but not altogether&mdash;fiction. And each one
+was a classic. Classics are cheap. They are not copyrighted. Could I but
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>know the anonymous benefactor who enrolled that glorious company, how
+gladly would I drop a leaf on his bier or a cherry in his bitters!</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was that, in one brief decade, the cowboys, with others, became
+comparatively literate. Cowboys all smoked. Doubtless that was a chief
+cause contributory to making them the wrecks they were. It destroyed
+their physique; it corroded and ate away their will power&mdash;leaving them
+seldom able to work over nineteen hours a day, except in emergencies;
+prone to abandon duty in the face of difficulty or danger, when human
+effort, raised to the nth power, could do no more&mdash;all things
+considered, the most efficient men of their hands on record.</p>
+
+<p>Cowboys all smoked: and the most deep-seated instinct of the human race
+is to get something for nothing. They got those books. In due course of
+time they read those books. Some were slow to take to it; but when you
+stay at lonely ranches, when you are left afoot until the water-holes
+dry up, so you may catch a horse in the waterpen&mdash;why, you must do
+something. The books were read. Then, having acquired the habit, they
+bought more books. Since the three hundred and three were all real
+books, and since the cowboys had been previously uncorrupted of
+predigested or sterilized fiction, or by &#8220;gift,&#8221; &#8220;uplift&#8221; and &#8220;helpful&#8221;
+books, their composite taste had become surprisingly good, and they
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>bought with discriminating care. Nay, more. A bookcase follows books; a
+bookcase demands a house; a house needs a keeper; a housekeeper needs
+everything. Hence alfalfa&mdash;houseplants&mdash;slotless tables&mdash;bankbooks. The
+chain which began with yellow coupons ends with Christmas trees. In some
+proudest niche in the Hall of Fame a grateful nation will yet honor that
+hitherto unrecognized educator, Front de B&oelig;uf.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Jeff pawed over the tattered yellow-backed volumes in profane
+discontent. He had read them all. Another box was under the bed, behind
+the first. Opening it, he saw a tangled mass of clothing, tumbled in the
+bachelor manner; with the rest, a much-used football outfit&mdash;canvas
+jacket, sweater, padded trousers, woolen stockings, rubber noseguard,
+shinguards, ribbed shoes&mdash;all complete; for &#8217;Gene Baird was fullback of
+the El Paso eleven.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff segregated the gridiron wardrobe with hasty hands. His eye
+brightened; he spoke in an awed and almost reverent voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t mostly superstitious, but this looks like a leading. First, I&#8217;m
+here; second, Copperhead&#8217;s here; third, no one else is here; and, for
+the final miracle, here&#8217;s a costume made to my hand. Thirty-five miles.
+Ten o&#8217;clock, if I hurry. H&#8217;m!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;&#8216;When first I put this uniform on&#8217;&mdash;how did that go? I&#8217;m forgetting all
+my songs. Getting old, I guess.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rejecting the heavy shoes, as unmeet for waxed floors, and the
+shinguards, he rolled the rest of the uniform in his slicker and tied it
+behind his saddle. Then he rubbed his chin.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh! That&#8217;s a true saying, too. I am getting old. Youth turns to youth.
+Buck up, Jeff, you old fool! Have some pride about you and just a little
+old horse-sense.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Yet he unhobbled Grasshopper, who might then be trusted to find his way
+to Rainbow in about three days. He went to the corral and tossed a rope
+on snorting Copperhead. &#8220;No; I won&#8217;t go!&#8221; he said, as he slipped on the
+bridle. &#8220;Just to uncock old Copperhead, I&#8217;ll make a little horse-ride to
+Hospital Springs and look through the stock.&#8221; He threw on the saddle
+with some difficulty&mdash;Copperhead was fat and frisky. &#8220;She don&#8217;t want to
+see you, Jeff&mdash;an old has-been like you! No, no; I&#8217;d better not go. I
+won&#8217;t! There, if I didn&#8217;t leave that football stuff on the saddle! I&#8217;ll
+take it off. It might get lost. Whoa, Copperhead!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Copperhead, however, declined to whoa on any terms. His eyes bulged out;
+he reared, he pawed, he snorted, he bucked, he squealed, he did anything
+but whoa. Exasperated, Jeff caught the bridle by the cheek piece and
+swung into the saddle. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>After a few preliminaries in the pitching line,
+Jeff started bravely for Hospital Springs.</p>
+
+<p>It was destined that this act of renunciation should be thwarted.
+Copperhead stopped and dug his feet in the ground as if about to take
+root. Jeff dug the spurs home. With an agonized bawl, Copperhead made a
+creditable ascension, shook himself and swapped ends before he hit the
+ground again. &#8220;<i>Wooh!</i>&#8221; he said. His nose was headed now for Arcadia; he
+followed his nose, his roan flanks fanned vigorously with a doubled
+rope.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Headstrong, stubborn, unmanageable brute! Oh, well, have it your own
+way then, you old fool! You&#8217;ll be sorry!&#8221; Copperhead leaped out to the
+loosened rein. &#8220;This is just plain kidnapping!&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>Kidnapped and kidnapper were far out on the plain as night came on.
+Arcadia road stretched dimly to the east; the far lights of La Luz
+flashed through the leftward dusk; straight before them was a glint and
+sparkle in the sky, faint, diffused, wavering; beyond, a warm and mellow
+glow broke the blackness of the mountain wall, where the lights of
+low-hidden Arcadia beat up against Rainbow Rim.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff was past his first vexation; he sang as he rode:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><div class="centerbox4 bbox2"><p>&#8220;There was ink on her thumb when I kissed her hand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she whispered: &#8216;If you should die</span><br />
+I&#8217;d write you an epitaph, gloomy and grand!&#8217;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8216;Time enough for that!&#8217; says I.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Keep a-movin here, Copperhead! Time fugits right along. You will play
+hooky, will you? &#8216;I&#8217;m going to be a horse!&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3>
+
+<h2>THE MASKERS</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox7 bbox2"><p>&#8220;For Ellinor (her Christian name was Ellinor)<br />
+Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Richard Hovey.</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>t lacked little of the eleventh hour when the football player reached
+the ballroom&mdash;last comer to the revels. A bandage round his head and a
+rubber noseguard, which also hid his mouth, served for a mask, eked out
+by crisscrossed strips of courtplaster. One arm was in a sling&mdash;for
+stage purposes only.</p>
+
+<p>As he limped through the door, Diogenes hurried to meet him, held up his
+lantern, peered hopefully into the battered face and shook his
+disappointed head. &#8220;Stung again!&#8221; muttered Diogenes.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff lisped in numbers which fully verified the cynic&#8217;s misgiving.
+&#8220;7&mdash;11&mdash;4&mdash;11&mdash;44!&#8221; he announced jerkily. This was strictly in character
+and also excused him from entangling talk, leaving him free to search
+the whirl of dancers.</p>
+
+<p>A bulky Rough Rider volunteered his help. He fixed a gleaming eyeglass
+on his nose and politely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>offered Jeff a Big Stick by way of a crutch.
+&#8220;Hit the line hard!&#8221; he barked. He bit the words off with a
+prize-bulldog effect. He had fine teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff waved him off. &#8220;16&mdash;2&mdash;1!&#8221; he proclaimed controversially. He felt
+his spirits sinking, with a growing doubt of his ability to identify the
+Only One, and was impatient of interruption. He kept his slow and
+watchful way down the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Topsy broke away from her partner and stopped Jeff&#8217;s crippled progress.
+Her short hair, braided to a dozen tight and tiny pigtails, bristled
+away in all directions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Laws, young marsta&#8217;, you suhtenly does look puny!&#8221; she said. Then she
+clutched at her knee. &#8220;<i>Aie!</i>&#8221; she tittered, as a loose red stocking
+dropped flappingly to her ankle. Pray do not be shocked. The effect was
+startling; but a black stocking, decorously tight and smooth, was
+beneath the red one. Jeff&#8217;s mathematics were not equal to the strain of
+adequate comment. Topsy dived to the rescue. &#8220;Got a string?&#8221; she
+giggled, as she hitched the fallen stocking back to place. &#8220;I cain&#8217;t fix
+this good nohow!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff jerked his thumb over his shoulder. &#8220;Man over there with an
+eyeglass cord&mdash;maybe you can get that. What makes you act so?&#8221; He looked
+cold disapproval; nevertheless, he looked.</p>
+
+<p>Topsy hung her head, still clutching at the stocking-top. &#8220;Dunno. I
+spec&#8217;s it&#8217;s &#8217;cause Ise so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>wicked!&#8221; Finger in mouth, she looked after
+Jeff as he hobbled away.</p>
+
+<p>A slender witch bounced from a chair and barred his way with a broom.
+Her eyes were brimming sorcery; her lips looked saucy challenge; she
+leaned close for a whispered word in his ear: &#8220;How would you like to
+tackle me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jeff! &#8220;10, 2&mdash;10, 2!&#8221; he promised huskily. Yet he ducked beneath
+the broom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; said the little witch plaintively, &#8220;you&#8217;re going away!&#8221; She
+dropped her broom and wept.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;8, 2&mdash;8, 2&mdash;8, 2!&#8221; said Jeff, almost in tears himself, and again fell
+back upon English. &#8220;Mere figures or mere words can&#8217;t tell you how much I
+hate to; but I&#8217;ve got to follow the ball. I&#8217;m looking for a fellow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If he&mdash;if he doesn&#8217;t love you,&#8221; sobbed the stricken witch, &#8220;then you&#8217;ll
+come back to me&mdash;won&#8217;t you? I love a liar!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To the very stake!&#8221; vowed Jeff. Such heroic, if conditional, constancy
+was not to go unrewarded. A couple detached themselves from the dancers,
+threaded their way to a corner of the long hall and stood there in deep
+converse. Jeff quickened pulse and pace&mdash;for one was a Red Devil and the
+other wore the soft gray costume of a Friend. She was tall, this
+Quakeress, and the hobnobbing devil was of Jeff&#8217;s own height. Jeff began
+to hope for a goal.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>Briskly limping, he came to this engrossed couple and laid a friendly
+hand on the devil&#8217;s shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Brother,&#8221; he said cordially, &#8220;will you please go to&mdash;home?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The devil recoiled an astonished step.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What? What!! Show me your license!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Twenty-three!&mdash;Please!&mdash;there&#8217;s a good devil&mdash;23! I&#8217;m the right guard
+for this lady, I hope. Oh, please to go home!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The devil took this request in very bad part.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go back fifteen yards for offside play and take a drop kick at
+yourself!&#8221; he suggested sourly.</p>
+
+<p>A burly policeman, plainly conscious of fitting his uniform, paused for
+warning.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No scrappin&#8217; now! Don&#8217;t start nothin&#8217; or I&#8217;ll run in the t&#8217;ree av
+yees!&#8221; he said, and sauntered on, twirling a graceful nightstick.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thee is a local man, judging from thy letters,&#8221; said the Quaker lady,
+to relieve the somewhat strained situation. &#8220;What do they stand for? E.
+P.? Oh, yes&mdash;El Paso, of course!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw you first!&#8221; said the Red Devil. &#8220;And with your disposition you
+would naturally find me more suitable. Make your choice of gridirons!
+Send him back to the side lines! Disqualify him for interference!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be hurried into a decision,&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Eternity is a good
+while. Before it&#8217;s over I&#8217;m <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>going to be a&mdash;well, something more than a
+footballer. Golf, maybe&mdash;or tiddledywinks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Quakeress glanced attentively from one to the other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doubtless he will do his best to forward Thy Majesty&#8217;s interests,&#8221; she
+interposed. &#8220;Why not give him a chance?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The devil shrugged his shoulders. &#8220;I always prefer to give this branch
+of work my personal attention,&#8221; he said stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A specialty of thine?&#8221; mocked the girl.</p>
+
+<p>The devil bowed sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My heart is in it. Of course, if you prefer the bungling of a novice,
+there is no more to be said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thy Majesty&#8217;s manners have never been questioned,&#8221; murmured the
+Quakeress, bowing dismissal. &#8220;So kind of you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The devil bowed deeply and turned, pausing to hurl a gloomy prophecy
+over his shoulder. &#8220;See you later!&#8221; he said, and stalked away with an
+ill grace.</p>
+
+<p>Pigskin hero and girl Friend, left alone, eyed each other with mutual
+apprehension. The girl Friend was first to recover speech. Her red lips
+were prim below her vizor, her eyes downcast to hide their dancing
+lights. Timidly she spread out fanwise the dove color of her sober
+costume.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How does thee like my gray gown?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; said Jeff brutally. &#8220;You&#8217;re no friend of mine, I hope.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A most un-Quakerlike dimple trembled to her chin, relieving the firm
+austerity of straight lips. Also, Jeff caught a glimpse of her eyes
+through the vizor. They were crinkling&mdash;and they were brown. She
+ventured another tentative remark, and there was in it an undertone
+lingering, softly confidential.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is thee lame?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not&mdash;very,&#8221; said Jeff, and saw a faint color start to the unmasked
+moiety of the Quaker cheek. &#8220;Still, if I may have the next dance, I
+shall be glad if you will sit it out with me.&#8221; Painfully he raised the
+beslinged arm in explanation. <i>Sobre las Olas</i> throbbed out its wistful
+call; they set their thought to its haunting measure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By all means!&#8221; She took his undamaged arm. &#8220;Let us find chairs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Now there were chairs to the left of them, chairs to the right of them,
+chairs vacant everywhere; but the gallant Six Hundred themselves were
+not more heedless or undismayed than these two. Still, all the world did
+not wonder. On the contrary, not even the anxious devil saw them after
+they passed behind a knot of would-be dancers who were striving to
+disentangle themselves. For, seeing traffic thus blocked, the policeman
+rushed to unsnarl the tangle. Magnificently he flourished his stick. He
+adjured them <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>roughly: &#8220;Move on, yous! Move on!&#8221; Whereat, with one
+impulse, the tangle moved on the copper, swept over him, engulfed him,
+hustled him to the door and threw him out.</p>
+
+<p>So screened, the chair-hunters vanished in far less than a psychological
+moment: for Jeff, in obedience to a faint or fancied pressure on his
+arm, dived through porti&egrave;res into a small room set apart for such as had
+the heart to prefer cards or chess. The room was deserted now and there
+was a broad window open to the night. Thus, thrice favored of
+Providence, they found themselves in the garden, chairless but cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>A garden with one Eve is the perfect combination in a world awry.
+Muffled, the music and the sounds of the ballroom came faint and far to
+them; star-made shadows danced at their feet. The girl paused,
+expectant; but it was the unexpected that happened. The nimble tongue
+which had done such faithful service for Mr. Bransford now failed him
+quite: left him struggling, dumb, inarticulate, helpless&mdash;tongue and
+hand alike forgetful of their cunning.</p>
+
+<p>Be sure the maid had adroitly heard much of Mr. Bransford, his deeds and
+misdeeds, during the tedious interval since their first meeting. Report
+had dwelt lovingly upon Mr. Bransford&#8217;s eloquence at need. This awkward
+silence was a tribute of sincerity above question.</p>
+
+<p>With difficulty Ellinor mastered a wild desire <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>to ask where the cat had
+gone. &#8220;Oh, come ye in peace here or come ye in war?&#8221; Such injudicious
+quotation trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she suppressed
+it&mdash;barely in time. She felt herself growing nervous with the fear lest
+she should be hurried into some all too luminous speech. And still Jeff
+stood there, lost, speechless, helpless, unready, a clumsy oaf, an
+object of pity. Pity at last, or a kindred feeling, drove her to the
+rescue. And, just as she had feared, she said, in her generous haste,
+far too much.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought you were not coming?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The inflection made a question of this statement. Also, by implication,
+it answered so many questions yet unworded that Jeff was able to use his
+tongue again; but it was not the trusty tongue of yore&mdash;witness this
+wooden speech:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You mean you thought I said I wasn&#8217;t coming&mdash;don&#8217;t you? You knew I
+would come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed? How should I know what you would do? I&#8217;ve only seen you once.
+Aren&#8217;t you forgetting that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why else did you make up as a Friend then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! Oh, dear, these men! There&#8217;s conceit for you! I chose my costume
+solely to trap Mr. Bransford&#8217;s eye? Is that it? Doubtless all my
+thoughts have centered on Mr. Bransford since I first saw him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You know I didn&#8217;t mean that, Miss Ellinor. I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Hoffman, if you please!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Hoffman. Don&#8217;t be mean to me. I&#8217;ve only got an hour&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An hour! Do you imagine for one second&mdash;&mdash;Why, I mustn&#8217;t stay here.
+This is really a farewell dance given in my honor. We go back East day
+after to-morrow. I must go in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only one little hour. And I have come a long ways for my hour. They
+take their masks off at midnight&mdash;don&#8217;t they? And of course I can&#8217;t stay
+after that. I want only just to ask <span style="white-space: nowrap;">you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why did you come then? Isn&#8217;t it rather unusual to go uninvited to a
+ball?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I reckon you nearly know why I come, Miss Hoffman; but if you want
+me to say precisely, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">ma&#8217;am&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll keep that for a surprise, then. Another thing: I wanted to find
+out just where you live in New York. I forgot to ask you. And I couldn&#8217;t
+very well go round asking folks after you&#8217;re gone&mdash;could I? Of course I
+didn&#8217;t have any invitation&mdash;from Mr. Lake; but I thought, if he didn&#8217;t
+know it, he wouldn&#8217;t mind me just stepping in to get your address.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, of all the assurance!&#8221; said Miss Ellinor. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>&#8220;Do you intend to
+start up a correspondence with me without even the formality of asking
+my consent?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Miss Ellinor, ma&#8217;am, I thought&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Miss Hoffman, sir! Yes&mdash;and there&#8217;s another thing. You said you had no
+invitation&mdash;from Mr. Lake. Does that mean, by any chance, that I invited
+you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t say a word about my coming,&#8221; said Jeff. He was a flustered
+man, this poor Bransford, but he managed to put a slight stress upon the
+word &#8220;say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor&mdash;Miss Hoffman&mdash;caught this faint emphasis instantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I didn&#8217;t <i>say</i> anything? I just looked an invitation, I suppose?&#8221;
+she stormed. &#8220;Melting eyes&mdash;and that sort of thing? Tears in them,
+maybe? Poor girl! Poor little child! It would be cruel to let her go
+home without seeing me again. I will give her a little more happiness,
+poor thing, and write to her a while. Maybe it would be wiser, though,
+just to make a quarrel and break loose at once. She&#8217;ll get over it in a
+little while after she gets back to New York. Well! Upon my word!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As she advanced these horrible suppositions, Miss Hoffman had marked out
+a short beat of garden path&mdash;five steps and a turn; five steps back and
+whirl again&mdash;with, on the whole, a caged-tigress effect. With a
+double-quick at each turn <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>to keep his place at her elbow, Jeff, utterly
+aghast at the damnable perversity of everything on earth, vainly
+endeavored to make co&ouml;rdinate and stumbling remonstrance. As she stopped
+for breath, Jeff heard his own voice at last, propounding to the world
+at large a stunned query as to whether the abode of lost spirits could
+afford aught to excel the present situation. The remark struck him: he
+paused to wonder what other things he had been saying.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor walked her beat, vindictive. Her chin was at an angle of
+complacency. She turned up the perky corners of an imaginary mustache
+with an air, an exasperating little finger, separated from the others,
+pointing upward in hateful self-satisfaction. Her mouth wore a gratified
+masculine smirk, visible even in the starlight; her gait was a leisured
+and lordly strut; her hand waved airy pity. Jeff shrank back in horror.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;M-Miss Hoffman, I n-never d-dreamed&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman turned upon him swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never have I heard anything like it&mdash;never! You bring me out here
+willy-nilly, and by way of entertainment you virtually accuse me of
+throwing myself at your head.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never!&#8221; said Jeff indignantly. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman faced him crouchingly and shook an indictment from her
+fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;First, you imply that I enticed you to come; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>second, expecting you, I
+dressed to catch your eye; third, I was watching eagerly for <span style="white-space: nowrap;">you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come&mdash;I say now!&#8221; The baited and exasperated victim walked headlong
+into the trap. &#8220;The first thing you did was to ask me if I was lame?
+Wasn&#8217;t that question meant to find out who I was? When I answered,
+&#8216;Not&mdash;very,&#8217; didn&#8217;t you know at once that it was me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There! That proves exactly what I was just saying,&#8221; raged the delighted
+trapper. &#8220;You don&#8217;t even deny it! You say in so many words that I have
+been courting you! I had to say something&mdash;didn&#8217;t I? You wouldn&#8217;t! You
+were limping, so I asked you if you were lame. What else could I have
+said? Did you want me to stand there like a stuffed Egyptian mummy?
+That&#8217;s the thanks a girl gets for trying to help a great, awkward,
+blundering butter-fingers! Oh, if you could just see yourself! The
+irresistible conqueror! Not altogether unprincipled though! You <i>are</i>
+capable of compunction. I&#8217;ll give you credit for that. Alarmed at your
+easy success, you try to spare me. It is noble of you&mdash;noble! You drag
+me out here, force a quarrel upon <span style="white-space: nowrap;">me&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, by Jove now! Really!&#8221; Stung by the poignant injustice of crowding
+events, Jeff took the bit in his teeth and rushed to destruction.
+&#8220;Really, you must see yourself that I couldn&#8217;t drag you out here! I have
+never been in that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>hall before. I didn&#8217;t know the lay of the ground. I
+didn&#8217;t even know that little side room was there. I thought you pressed
+my arm a little&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; So the brainless colt, in the quicksands, flounders
+deeper with each effort to extricate himself.</p>
+
+<p>If Miss Hoffman had been angry before she was furious now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So <i>that&#8217;s</i> the way of it? Better and better! <i>I</i> dragged <i>you</i> out!
+Really, Mr. Bransford, I feel that I should take you back to your
+chaperon at once. You might be compromised, you know!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Goaded to desperation, he acted on this hint at once. He turned, with
+stiff and stilted speech:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will take you back to the window, Miss Hoffman. Then there is nothing
+for me to do but go. I am sorry to have caused you even a moment&#8217;s
+annoyance. To-morrow you will see how you have twisted&mdash;I mean, how
+completely you have misinterpreted everything I have said. Perhaps some
+day you may forgive me. Here is the window. Good-night&mdash;good-by!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman lingered, however.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course, if you apologize&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do, Miss Hoffman. I beg your pardon most sincerely for anything I
+have ever said or done that could hurt you in any way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you are sure you are sorry&mdash;if you take it all back and will never
+do such a thing again&mdash;perhaps I may forgive you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t&mdash;I am&mdash;I will!&#8221; said the abject and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>groveling wretch. Which
+was incoherent but pleasing. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t mean anything the way you took
+it; but I&#8217;m sorry for everything.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I didn&#8217;t beguile you to come? Or mask as a Friend in the hope that
+you would identify me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor pressed her advantage cruelly. &#8220;Nor take stock of each new
+masker to see if he possibly wasn&#8217;t the expected Mr. Bransford? Nor drag
+you into the garden? Nor squeeze your arm?&#8221; Her hands went to her face,
+her lissome body shook. &#8220;Oh, Mr. Bransford!&#8221; she sobbed between her
+fingers. &#8220;How could you&mdash;how <i>could</i> you say that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The clock chimed. A pealing voice beat out into the night: &#8220;Masks off!&#8221;
+A hundred voices swelled the cry; it was drowned in waves of laughter.
+It rose again tumultuously: &#8220;<i>Masks off! Masks off!</i>&#8221; Nearer came
+hateful voices, too, that cried: &#8220;<i>Ellinor! Ellinor! Where are you?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must go!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;They&#8217;ll be looking for you. No; you didn&#8217;t do
+any of those things. You couldn&#8217;t do any of those things. Good-by!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Ellinor! Ellinor Hoffman!! Where are you?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman whipped off her mask. From the open window a shaft of light
+fell on her face. It was flushed, sparkling, radiant. &#8220;Masks off!&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>she
+said. &#8220;Stupid!... Oh, you great goose! Of course I did!&#8221; She stepped
+back into the shadow.</p>
+
+<p>No one, as the copybook says justly, may be always wise. Conversely, the
+most unwise of us blunders sometimes upon the right thing to do. With a
+glimmer of returning intelligence Mr. Bransford laid his noseguard on
+the window-sill.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Sir!</i>&#8221; said Ellinor then. &#8220;How dare you?&#8221; Then she turned the other
+cheek. &#8220;Good-by!&#8221; she whispered, and fled away to the ballroom.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford, in the shadows, scratched his head dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Her Christian name was Ellinor,&#8221; he muttered. &#8220;Ellinor! H&#8217;m&mdash;Ellinor!
+Very appropriate name.... Very!... And I don&#8217;t know yet where she
+lives!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He wandered disconsolately away to the garden wall, forgetting the
+discarded noseguard.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<h2>THE ISLE OF ARCADY</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox8 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Then the moon shone out so broad and good<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">That the barn-fowl crowed:</span><br />
+And the brown owl called to his mate in the wood<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>That a dead man lay in the road</i>!&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Will Wallace Harney.</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>rcadia&#8217;s assets were the railroad, two large modern sawmills, the
+climate and printer&#8217;s ink. The railroad found it a patch of bare ground,
+six miles from water; put in successively a whistling-post, a signboard,
+a depot, townsite papers and a water-main from the Alamo; and, when the
+townsite papers were confirmed, established machine shops and made the
+new town the division headquarters and base for northward building.</p>
+
+<p>The railroad then set up the sawmills, primarily to get out ties and
+timbers for its own lanky growth, and built a spur to bring the forest
+down from Rainbow to the mills. The word &#8220;down&#8221; is used advisedly.
+Arcadia nestled on the plain under the very eavespouts of Rainbow Range.
+The branch, following with slavish fidelity <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>the lines of a twisted
+corkscrew, took twenty-seven miles, mostly tunnel and trestlework, to
+clamber to the logging camps, with a minimum grade that was purely
+prohibitive and a maximum that I dare not state; but there was a rise of
+six thousand feet in those twenty-seven miles. You can figure the
+average for yourself. And if the engine should run off the track at the
+end of her climb she would light on the very roundhouse where she took
+breakfast, and spoil the shingles.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, that was some railroad. There was a summer hotel&mdash;Cloudland&mdash;on the
+summit, largely occupied by slackwire performers. Others walked up or
+rode a horse. They used stem-winding engines, with eight vertical
+cylinders on the right side and a shaft like a steamboat, with beveled
+cogwheel transmission on the axles. And they haven&#8217;t had a wreck on that
+branch to date. No matter how late a train is, when an engine sees the
+tail-lights of her caboose ahead of her she stops and sends out flagmen.</p>
+
+<p>The railroad, under the pseudonym of the Arcadia Development Company,
+also laid out streets and laid in a network of pipe-lines, and staked
+out lots until the sawmill protested for lack of tie-lumber. It put down
+miles of cement walks, fringed them with cottonwood saplings, telephone
+poles and electric lights. It built a hotel and a few streets of
+party-colored cottages&mdash;directoire, with lingerie tile roofs, organdy
+fa&ccedil;ades and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>peplum, intersecting panels and outside chimneys at the
+gable ends. It decreed a park, with nooks, lanes, mazes, lake, swans,
+ballground, grandstand, bandstand and the band appertaining
+thereunto&mdash;all of which apparently came into being over night. Then it
+employed a competent staff of word-artists and capitalized the climate.</p>
+
+<p>The result was astonishing. The cottonwoods grew apace and a swift town
+grew with them&mdash;swift in every sense of the word. It took good money to
+buy good lots in Arcadia. People with money must be fed, served and
+amused by people wanting money. In three years the trees cast a pleasant
+shade and the company cast a balance, with gratifying results. They
+discounted the unearned increment for a generation to come.</p>
+
+<p>It was a beneficent scheme, selling ozone and novelty, sunshine and
+delight. The buyers got far more than the worth of their money, the
+company got their money&mdash;and every one was happy. Health and good
+spirits are a bargain at any price. There were sandstorms and hot days;
+but sand promotes digestion and digestion promotes cheerfulness. Heat
+merely enhanced the luxury of shaded hammocks. As an adventurer thawed
+out, he sent for seven others worse than himself. Arcadia became the
+metropolis of the county and, by special election, the county-seat.
+Courthouse, college and jail followed in quick succession.</p>
+
+<p>For the company, Arcadia life was one grand, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>sweet song, with, thus
+far, but a single discord. As has been said, Arcadia was laid out on the
+plain. There was higher ground on three sides&mdash;Rainbow Mountain to the
+east, the deltas of La Luz Creek and the Alamo to the north and south.
+New Mexico was dry, as a rule. After the second exception, when
+enthusiastic citizens went about on stilts to forward a project for
+changing the town&#8217;s name to Venice, the company acknowledged its error
+handsomely. When dry land prevailed once more above the face of the
+waters, it built a mighty moat by way of the <i>amende honorable</i>&mdash;a moat
+with its one embankment on the inner side of the five-mile horseshoe
+about the town. This, with its attendant bridges, gave to Arcadia an
+aspect singularly medieval. It also furnished a convenient line of
+social demarcation. Chauffeurs, college professors, lawyers, gamblers,
+county officers, together with a few tradesmen and railroad officials,
+abode within &#8220;the Isle of Arcady,&#8221; on more or less even terms with the
+Arcadians proper; millmen, railroaders, lumberjacks, and the underworld
+generally, dwelt without the pale.</p>
+
+<p>The company rubbed its lamp again&mdash;and behold! an armory, a hospital and
+a library! It contributed liberally to churches and campaign funds; it
+exercised a general supervision over morals and manners. For example, in
+the deed to every lot sold was an ironclad, fire-tested, automatic <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>and
+highly constitutional forfeiture clause, to the effect that sale or
+storage on the premises of any malt, vinous or spirituous liquors should
+immediately cause the title to revert to the company. The company&#8217;s own
+vicarious saloon, on Lot Number One, was a sumptuous and magnificent
+affair. It was known as The Mint.</p>
+
+<p>All this while we have been trying to reach the night watchman.</p>
+
+<p>In the early youth of Arcadia there came to her borders a warlock Finn,
+of ruddy countenance and solid build. He had a Finnish name, and they
+called him Lars Porsena.</p>
+
+<p>Lars P. had been a seafaring man. While spending a year&#8217;s wage in San
+Francisco, he had wandered into Arcadia by accident. There, being unable
+to find the sea, he became a lumberjack&mdash;with a custom, when in spirits,
+of beating the watchman of that date into an omelet.</p>
+
+<p>The indulgence of this penchant gave occasion for much adverse
+criticism. Fine and imprisonment failed to deter him from this playful
+habit. One watchman tried to dissuade Lars from his foible with a club,
+and his successor even went so far as to shoot him&mdash;to shoot Lars P., of
+course, not his predecessor&mdash;the successor&#8217;s predecessor, not Lars
+Porsena&#8217;s&mdash;if he ever had one, which he hadn&#8217;t. (What we need is more
+pronouns.) He&mdash;the successor of the predecessor&mdash;resigned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>when Lars
+became convalescent; but Lars was no whit dismayed by this
+contretemps&mdash;in his first light-hearted moment he resumed his old
+amusement with unabated gayety.</p>
+
+<p>Thus was one of our greatest railroad systems subjected to embarrassment
+and annoyance by the idiosyncrasies of an ignorant but cheerful
+sailor-man. The railroad resolved to submit no longer to such caprice. A
+middleweight of renown was imported, who&mdash;when he was able to be about
+again&mdash;bitterly reproached the president and demanded a bonus on the
+ground that he had knocked Lars down several times before he&mdash;Lars&mdash;got
+angry; and also because of a disquisition in the Finnish tongue which
+Lars Porsena had emitted during the procedure&mdash;which address, the
+prizefighter stated, had unnerved him and so led to his undoing. It was
+obviously, he said, of a nature inconceivably insulting; the memory of
+it rankled yet, though he had heard only the beginning and did not get
+the&mdash;But let that pass.</p>
+
+<p>The thing became a scandal. Watchman succeeded watchman on the company
+payroll and the hospital list, until some one hit upon a happy and
+ingenious way to avoid this indignity. Lars Porsena was appointed
+watchman.</p>
+
+<p>This statesmanlike policy bore gratifying results. Lars Porsena
+straightway abandoned his absurd and indefensible custom, and no
+imitator <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>arose. Also, Arcadia within the moat&mdash;the island&mdash;which was
+the limit of his jurisdiction, became the most orderly spot in New
+Mexico.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>In the first gray of dawn, Uncle Sam, whistling down Main Street on his
+way home from the masquerade, found Lars Porsena lying on his face in a
+pool of blood.</p>
+
+<p>The belated reveler knelt beside him. The watchman was shot, but still
+breathed. &#8220;Ho! Murder! Help! Murder!&#8221; shouted Uncle Sam. The alarm
+rolled crashing along the quiet street. Heads were thrust from windows;
+startled voices took up the outcry; other home-goers ran from every
+corner; hastily arrayed householders poured themselves from street
+doors.</p>
+
+<p>Lars Porsena was in disastrous plight. He breathed, but that was about
+all. He was shot through the body. A trail of blood led back a few doors
+to Lake&#8217;s Bank. A window was cut out; the blood began at the sill.</p>
+
+<p>Messengers ran to telephone the doctor, the sheriff, Lake. The knot of
+men grew to a crowd. A rumor spread that there had been an unusual
+amount of currency in the bank over night&mdash;a rumor presently confirmed
+by Bassett, the bareheaded and white-faced cashier. It was near payday;
+in addition to the customary amount to cash checks for railroaders and
+millhands&mdash;itself no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>mean sum&mdash;and the money for regular business,
+there had been provision for contemplated loans to promoters of new
+local industries.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor came running, made a hasty examination, took emergency
+measures to stanch the freshly started blood, and swore whole-heartedly
+at the ambulance and the crowding Arcadians. He administered a
+stimulant. Lars Porsena fluttered his eyes weakly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stand back, you idiots! Bash these fools&#8217; faces in for &#8217;em, some one!&#8221;
+said the medical man. He bent over the watchman. &#8220;Who did it, Lars?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lars made a vain effort to speak. The doctor gave him another sip of
+restorative and took a pull himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Try again, old man. You&#8217;re badly hurt and you may not get another
+chance. Did you know him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lars gathered all his strength to a broken speech:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No.... Bank ... Found window ... Midnight ... nearly.... Shot me....
+Didn&#8217;t see him.&#8221; He fell back on Uncle Sam&#8217;s starry vest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ambulance coming,&#8221; said Uncle Sam. &#8220;Will he live, doc?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Doc shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Poor chance. Lost too much blood. If he had been found in time he might
+have pulled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>through. Wonderful vitality. Ought to be dead now, by the
+books. Still, there&#8217;s a chance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never thought,&#8221; said Uncle Sam to Cyrano de Bergerac, as the
+ambulance bore away its unconscious burden, &#8220;that I would ever be so
+sorry at anything that could happen to Lars Porsena&mdash;after the way he
+made me stop singing on my own birthday. He was one grand old fighting
+machine!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<h2>STATES-GENERAL</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay<br />
+And laid the wyte on Geordie.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<i>Old Ballad.</i></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>hat the master&#8217;s eye is worth two servants had ever been Lake&#8217;s
+favorite maxim. He had not yet gone to bed when the message reached him,
+where he kept his masterly eye on the proper closing up of the ballroom.
+He came through the crowd now, shouldering his way roughly, still in his
+police costume&mdash;helmet, tunic and belt. In his wake came the sheriff,
+who had just arrived, scorching to the scene on his trusty wheel.</p>
+
+<p>On the bank steps, Lake turned to face the crowd. His strong canine jaw
+was set to stubborn fighting lines; the helmet did not wholly hide the
+black frown or the swollen veins at his temple.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come in, Thompson, and help the sheriff size the thing up&mdash;and you,
+Alec&#8221;&mdash;he stabbed the air at his choice with a strong blunt finger&mdash;&#8220;and
+Turnbull&mdash;you, Clarke&mdash;and you.... Bassett, you keep the door. Admit no
+one!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p><p>Lake was the local great man. Never had he appeared to such advantage to
+his admirers; never had his ascendency seemed so unquestioned and so
+justified. As he stood beside the sheriff in the growing light, the man
+was the incarnation of power&mdash;the power of wealth, position, prestige,
+success. In this moment of yet unplumbed disaster, taken by surprise,
+summoned from a night of crowded pleasure, he held his mastery, chose
+his men and measures with unhesitant decision&mdash;planned, ordered, kept to
+that blunt direct speech of his that wasted no word. A buzz went up from
+the unadmitted as the door swung shut behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Lake had chosen well. Arcadia in epitome was within those pillaged
+walls. Thompson was president of the rival bank. Alec was division
+superintendent. Turnbull was the mill-master. Clarke was editor of the
+<i>Arcadian Day</i>. Clarke had been early to the storm-center; yet, of all
+the investigators, Clarke alone was not more or less disheveled. He was
+faultlessly appareled&mdash;even to the long Prince Albert and black string
+tie&mdash;in which, indeed, report said, he slept.</p>
+
+<p>So much for capital, industry and the fourth estate. The last of the
+probers, whom Lake had drafted merely by the slighting personal pronoun
+&#8220;you,&#8221; was nevertheless identifiable in private life by the name of
+Billy White&mdash;being, indeed, none other than our old friend the devil.
+His indigenous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>mustache still retained a Mephistophelian twist; he was
+becomingly arrayed in slippers, pajamas and a pink bathrobe, girdled at
+the waist with a most unhermitlike cord, having gone early and surly to
+bed. In this improvised committee he fitly represented Society: while
+the sheriff represented society at large and, ex officio, that
+incautious portion under duress. Yet one element was unrepresented; for
+Lake made a mistake which other great men have made&mdash;of failing to
+reckon with the masterless men, who dwell without the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Lake led the way.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will the watchman die, Alec, d&#8217;you think?&#8221; whispered Billy, as they
+filed through the grilled door to the counting room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t know. Hope not. Game old rooster. Good watchman, too,&#8221; said
+Turnbull, the mill-superintendent.</p>
+
+<p>Lake turned on the lights. The wall-safe was blown open; fragments of
+the door were scattered among the overturned chairs.</p>
+
+<p>In an open recess in the vault there was a dull yellow mass; the
+explosion had spilled the front rows of coin to a golden heap. Behind,
+some golden rouleaus were intact: others tottered precariously, as you
+have perhaps seen beautiful tall stacks of colored counters do. Gold
+pieces were strewn along the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank God, they didn&#8217;t get all the gold anyhow!&#8221; said Lake, with a sigh
+of relief. &#8220;Then, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>of course, they didn&#8217;t touch the silver; but there
+was a lot of greenbacks&mdash;over twenty-five thousand, I think. Bassett
+will know. And I don&#8217;t know how much gold is gone. Look round and see if
+they left anything incriminating, sheriff, anything that we can trace
+them by.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He heard poor old Lars coming,&#8221; said the sheriff. &#8220;Then, after he shot
+him, he hadn&#8217;t the nerve to come back for the gold. This strikes me as
+being a bungler&#8217;s job. Must have used an awful lot of dynamite to tear
+that door up like that! Funny no one heard the explosion. Can&#8217;t be much
+of your gold gone, Lake. That compartment is pretty nearly as full as it
+will hold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Or heard him shoot our watchman,&#8221; suggested Thompson. &#8220;Still, I don&#8217;t
+know. There&#8217;s blasting going on in the hills all the time and almost
+every one was at the masquerade or else asleep. How many times did they
+shoot old Lars&mdash;does anybody know? Is there any idea what time it was
+done?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was shot once&mdash;right here,&#8221; said Alec, indicating the spot on the
+flowered silk that had been part of his mandarin&#8217;s dress. &#8220;Gun was held
+so close it burnt his shirt. Awful hole. Don&#8217;t believe the old chap&#8217;ll
+make it. He crawled along toward the telephone station till he dropped.
+Say! Central must have heard that shot! It&#8217;s only two blocks away. She
+ought to be able to tell what time it was.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Lars said it was just before midnight,&#8221; said Clarke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&mdash;did he speak?&#8221; asked Lake. &#8220;How many robbers were there? Did he
+know any of them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He didn&#8217;t see anybody&mdash;shot just as he reached the window. Hope some
+one hangs for this!&#8221; said Clarke. &#8220;Lake, I wish you&#8217;d have this money
+picked up&mdash;I&#8217;m not used to walking on gold&mdash;or else have me watched.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lake shook his head, angry at the untimely pleasantry. It was a
+pleasantry in effect only, put forward to hide uneditorial agitation and
+distress for Lars Porsena. Lake&#8217;s undershot jaw thrust forward; he
+fingered the blot of whisker at his ear. It was a time for action, not
+for talk. He began his campaign.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look here, sheriff! You ought to wire up and down the line to keep a
+lookout. Hold all suspicious characters. Then get a posse to ride for
+some sign round the town. If we only had something to go on&mdash;some clue!
+Later we&#8217;ll look through this town with a finetooth comb. Most likely
+they&mdash;or he, if there was only one&mdash;won&#8217;t risk staying here. First of
+all, I&#8217;ve got to telegraph to El Paso for money to stave off a run on
+the bank. You&#8217;ll help me, Thompson? Of course my burglar insurance will
+make good my loss&mdash;or most of it; but that&#8217;ll take time. We mustn&#8217;t risk
+a run. People lose their heads so. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>I&#8217;ll give you a statement for the
+<i>Day</i>, Clarke, as soon as I find out where Mr. Thompson stands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will back you up, sir. With the bulk of depositors&#8217; money loaned out,
+no bank, however solvent, can withstand a continued run without backing.
+I shall be glad to tide you over if only for my own protection. A panic
+is <span style="white-space: nowrap;">contagious&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; said Lake shortly, interrupting this stately financial
+discourse. &#8220;Then we shall do nicely.... Let&#8217;s see&mdash;to-morrow&#8217;s payday.
+You fellows&#8221;&mdash;he turned briskly to the two superintendents&mdash;&#8220;can&#8217;t you
+hold up your payday, say, until Saturday? Stand your men off. The
+company stands good for their money. They can wait a while.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No need to do that,&#8221; said Alec. &#8220;I&#8217;ll have the railroad checks drawn on
+St. Louis. The storekeepers&#8217;ll cash &#8217;em. If necessary I&#8217;ll wire for
+authority to let Turnbull pay off the millhands with railroad checks.
+It&#8217;s just taking money from one pocket to put it in the other, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then that&#8217;s all right! Now for the robbers!&#8221; The banker&#8217;s face betrayed
+impatience. &#8220;My first duty was to protect my clients; but now we&#8217;ll
+waste no more time. You gentlemen make a close search for any possible
+scrap of evidence while the sheriff and I write our telegrams. I must
+wire the burglar insurance company, too.&#8221; He plunged a pen into an
+inkwell and fell to work.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>Acting upon this hint, the sheriff took a desk. &#8220;Wish Phillips was
+here&mdash;my deputy,&#8221; he sighed. &#8220;I&#8217;ve sent for him. He&#8217;s got a better head
+than I have for noticing clues and things.&#8221; This was eminently correct
+as well as modest. The sheriff was a Simon-pure Arcadian, the company&#8217;s
+nominee; his deputy was a concession to the disgruntled Hinterland,
+where the unobservant rarely reach maturity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Alec!&#8221; said Lake over his shoulder, &#8220;you sit down, too, and wire
+all your conductors about their passengers last night. Yes, and the
+freight crews, too. We&#8217;ll rush those through first. And can&#8217;t you scare
+up another operator?&#8221; His pen scratched steadily over the paper. &#8220;More
+apt to be some of our local outlaws, though. In that case it will be
+easier to find their trail. They&#8217;ll probably be on horseback.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were an&mdash;old-timer yourself, were you not?&#8221; asked Billy amiably.
+&#8220;If the robbers are frontiersmen they may be easier to get track of, as
+you suggest; but won&#8217;t they be harder to get?&#8221; Billy spoke languidly.
+The others were searching assiduously for &#8220;clues&#8221; in the most approved
+manner, but Billy sprawled easily in a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll get &#8217;em if we can find out who they were,&#8221; snapped Lake, setting
+his strong jaw. He did not particularly like Billy&mdash;especially since
+their late trip to Rainbow. &#8220;There never was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>a man yet so good but
+there was one just a little better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By a good man, in this connection, you mean a bad man, I presume?&#8221; said
+Billy in a meditative drawl. &#8220;Were you a good man before you became a
+banker?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look here! What&#8217;s this?&#8221; The interruption came from Clarke. He pounced
+down between two fragments of the safe door and brought up an object
+which he held to the light.</p>
+
+<p>At the startled tones, Lake spun round in his swivel-chair. He held out
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Really, I don&#8217;t think I ever saw anything like this thing before,&#8221; he
+said. &#8220;Any of you know what it is?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a noseguard,&#8221; said Billy. Billy was a college man and had worn a
+nosepiece himself. He frowned unconsciously, remembering his successful
+rival of the masquerade.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A noseguard? What for?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You wear it to protect your nose and teeth when playing football,&#8221;
+explained Billy. &#8220;Keeps you from swearing, too. You hold this piece
+between your teeth; the other part goes over your nose, up between your
+eyes and fastens with this band around your forehead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why! Why!&#8221; gasped Clarke, &#8220;there was a man at the masquerade togged out
+as a football player!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I saw him,&#8221; said Alec. &#8220;And he wore one of these things. I saw him
+talking to Topsy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One of my guests?&#8221; demanded Lake scoffingly. &#8220;Oh, nonsense! Some young
+fellow has been in here yesterday, talking to the clerks, and dropped
+it. Who went as a football player, White? You know all these college
+boys. Know anything about this one?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing.&#8221; There Billy lied&mdash;a prompt and loyal gentleman&mdash;reasoning
+that Buttinski, as he mentally styled the interloper who had
+misappropriated the Quaker lady, would have cared nothing at that time
+for a paltry thirty thousand. Thus was he guilty of a practice against
+which we are all vainly warned&mdash;of judging others by ourselves. Billy
+remembered very distinctly that Miss Ellinor had not reappeared until
+the midnight unmasking, and he therefore acquitted her companion of this
+particular crime, entirely without prejudice to Buttinski&#8217;s felonious
+instincts in general. For the watchman had been shot before midnight.
+Billy made a tentative mental decision that this famous noseguard had
+been brought to the bank later and left there purposely; and resolved to
+keep his eye open.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, it&#8217;s no great difference anyhow,&#8221; said Lake. &#8220;Whoever it was
+dropped it here yesterday, I guess, and got another one for the
+masquerade.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hold on there!&#8221; said Clarke, holding the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>spotlight tenaciously. &#8220;That
+don&#8217;t go! This thing was on top of one of those pieces of the safe!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Lake was startled from his iron composure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you sure?&#8221; he demanded, jumping up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure! It was right here against the sloping side of this piece&mdash;so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That puts a different light on the case, gentlemen,&#8221; said Lake. &#8220;Luck
+is with us; and&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And, while I think of it,&#8221; said Clarke, making the most of his
+unexpected opportunity, &#8220;I made notes of all the costumes and their
+wearers after the masks were off&mdash;for the paper, you know&mdash;and I saw no
+football player there. I remember that distinctly.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I only saw him the one time,&#8221; confirmed Alec, &#8220;and I stayed almost to
+the break-up. Whoever it was, he left early.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what possible motive could the robber have for going to the dance
+at all?&#8221; queried Lake in perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe he made his appearance there in a football suit purposely, so as
+to leave us some one to hunt for, and then committed the robbery and
+went back in another costume,&#8221; suggested Clarke, pleased and not a
+little surprised at his own ingenuity. &#8220;In that case, he would have left
+this rubber thing here of design.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;H&#8217;m!&#8221; Lake was plainly struck with this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>theory. &#8220;And that&#8217;s not such a
+bad idea, either! We&#8217;ll look into this football matter after breakfast.
+You&#8217;ll go to the hotel with me, gentlemen? Our womankind are all asleep
+after the ball. The sheriff will send some one to guard the bank.
+Meantime I&#8217;ll call the cashier in and find out exactly how much money
+we&#8217;re short. Send Bassett in, will you, Billy? You stay at the door and
+keep that mob out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<h2>ARCADES AMBO</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox4 bbox2"><p>&#8220;What means this, my lord?&#8221;<br />
+&#8220;Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<i>Hamlet.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p>&#8220;We are here to do what service we may, for honor and not for
+hire.&#8221;&mdash;<span class="smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson.</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ith Billy went the sheriff and Alec, the latter with a sheaf of
+telegrams.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now ... how did Buttinski&#8217;s noseguard get into this bank? That&#8217;s what
+I&#8217;d like to know,&#8221; said Billy to the doorknob, when the other
+committeemen had gone their ways. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t bring it. I don&#8217;t believe
+Buttinski did.... And Policeman Lake certainly saw us quarreling. He
+noticed the football player, right enough,&mdash;and he pretends he didn&#8217;t.
+Why&mdash;why&mdash;why does Policeman Lake pretend he didn&#8217;t see that football
+player? Echo answers&mdash;why?... Denmark&#8217;s all putrefied!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The low sun cleared the housetops. The level rays fell along the
+window-sill; and Billy, staring fascinated at the single blotch of dried
+blood on the inner sill, saw something glitter and sparkle <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>there beside
+it. He went closer. It was a dust of finely powdered glass. Billy
+whistled.</p>
+
+<p>A light foot ran up the steps. There was a rap at the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No entrance except on business. No business transacted here!&#8221; quoted
+Billy, startled from a deep study. A head appeared at the window. &#8220;Oh,
+it&#8217;s you, Jimmy? That&#8217;s different. Come in!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was Jimmy Phillips, the chief deputy. Billy knew him and liked him.
+He unbarred the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, anything turned up yet?&#8221; demanded Jimmy. &#8220;I stopped in to see
+Lars. Him and me was old side partners.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;s he making it, Jimmy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, doc said he had one chance in ten thousand; so he&#8217;s all right, I
+guess,&#8221; responded that brisk optimist. &#8220;They got any theory about the
+robber?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They have that. A perfectly sound theory, too&mdash;only it isn&#8217;t true,&#8221;
+said Billy in a low and guarded tone. &#8220;They&#8217;ll tell you. I haven&#8217;t got
+time. See here&mdash;if I give you the straight tip will you work it up and
+keep your head closed until you see which way the cat jumps? Can you
+keep it to yourself?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mum as a sack of clams!&#8221; said Jimmy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look at this a minute!&#8221; Billy pointed to the tiny particles of glass on
+the inner sill. &#8220;Got <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>that? Then I&#8217;ll dust it off. This is a case for
+your gummiest shoes. Now look at this!&#8221; He indicated the opening where
+the patch of glass had been cut from the big pane. Jimmy rubbed his
+finger very cautiously along the raw edge of the glass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cut out from the inside&mdash;then carried out there? A frame-up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. But I don&#8217;t want anybody else to size it up for a
+frame-up&mdash;not now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; said Jimmy good-naturedly, &#8220;I&#8217;d &#8217;a&#8217; seen all that myself after a
+little if you hadn&#8217;t &#8217;a&#8217; showed me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Billy dryly; &#8220;and then told somebody! That&#8217;s why I brushed
+the glass-dust off. I&#8217;ve got inside information&mdash;some that I&#8217;m going to
+share with you and some that I am not going to tell even you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Trot it out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lake had the key of this front door in the policeman&#8217;s uniform that he
+wore to the dance. Isn&#8217;t that queer? If I were you I&#8217;d very quietly find
+out whether he went home to get that key after he got word that the bank
+was robbed. He was still in the ballroom when he got the message.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You think it&#8217;s a put-up job? Why?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is something not just right about the man Lake. His mind is too
+ballbearing altogether. He herds those chumps in there round <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>like so
+many sheep. He used &#8217;em to make discoveries with and then showed &#8217;em how
+to force &#8217;em on him. Oh, they made a heap of progress! They&#8217;ve got
+evidence enough up in there to hang John the Baptist, with Lake all the
+time setting back in the breeching like a balky horse. It&#8217;s Lake&#8217;s bank,
+and the bank&#8217;s got burglar insurance. Got that? If he gets the money and
+the insurance, too&mdash;see? And I happen to know he has been bucking the
+market. I dropped a roll with him myself. Then there&#8217;s r-r-revenge!&mdash;as
+they say on the stage&mdash;and something else beside. Has Lake any bitter
+enemies?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oodles of &#8217;em!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But one worse than the others&mdash;one he hates most?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy thought for a while. Then he nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff Bransford, I reckon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is he in town?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not that I know of.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I never heard of your Mr. Bransford; but he&#8217;s in town all right,
+all right! You&#8217;ll see! Lake&#8217;s got a case cooked up that&#8217;ll hang some one
+higher than Haman; and I&#8217;ll bet the first six years of my life against a
+Doctor Cook lecture ticket that the first letter of some one&#8217;s name is
+Jeff Bransford.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe Jeff can prove he was somewhere else?&#8221; suggested Jimmy.</p>
+
+<p>Billy evaded the issue.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;What sort of a man is this Bransford? Any good? Besides being an enemy
+of Lake&#8217;s, I mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Bransford is one whom we all delight to humor,&#8221; announced the
+deputy, after some reflection.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Friend of yours?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy reflected again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We-ll&mdash;yes!&#8221; he said. &#8220;He limps a little in cold weather, and I got a
+little small ditch plowed in my skull&mdash;but our horses was both young and
+wild, and the boys rode in between us before there was any harm done. I
+pulled him out of the Pecos since that, too, and poured some several
+barrels of water out o&#8217; him. Yes, we&#8217;re good friends, I reckon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll shoot back on proper occasion, then? A good sport? Stand the
+gaff?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On proper occasion,&#8221; rejoined Jimmy, &#8220;the other man will shoot back&mdash;if
+he&#8217;s lucky. Yes, sir, Jeff&#8217;s certainly one dead game sport at any turn
+in the road.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Considering the source and spirit of your information, you sadden me,&#8221;
+said Billy. &#8220;The better man he is, the better chance to hang. Has he got
+any close friends here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He seldom ever comes here,&#8221; said Jimmy. &#8220;All his friends is on Rainbow,
+specially South Rainbow; but his particular side partners is all away
+just now; leastways, all but one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t you write to that one?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The deputy grinned hugely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And tell him to come break Jeff out o&#8217; jail?&#8221; said he. &#8220;That don&#8217;t seem
+hardly right, considerin&#8217;. You write to him&mdash;Johnny Dines, Morningside.
+You might wire up to Cloudland and have it forwarded from there. I&#8217;ll
+pay.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Billy made a note of it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll be out here in a jiffy now,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Now, Jimmy, you listen
+to all they tell you; follow it up; make no comments; don&#8217;t see anything
+and don&#8217;t miss anything. Let Lake think he&#8217;s having it all his own way
+and he&#8217;ll make some kind of a break that will give him away. We haven&#8217;t
+got a thing against him yet except the right guess. And you be careful
+to catch your friend without a fight. When you get him I want you to
+give him a message from me; but don&#8217;t mention any name. Tell him to keep
+a stiff upper lip&mdash;that the devil takes care of his own. Say the devil
+told you himself&mdash;in person. I don&#8217;t want to show my hand. I&#8217;m on the
+other side&mdash;see? That way I can be in Lake&#8217;s counsels&mdash;force myself in,
+if necessary, after this morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You think that if you give Lake rope enough&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. Here they come&mdash;I hear their chairs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Blonde or brunette?&#8221; said Jimmy casually.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Eh? What&#8217;s that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The something else that you wouldn&#8217;t tell me about,&#8221; Jimmy explained.
+&#8220;Is she blonde or brunette?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, go to hell!&#8221; said Billy.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<h2>TAKEN</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox3 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Lord Huntley then he did speak out&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O, fair mot fa&#8217; his body!&mdash;</span><br />
+&#8216;I here will fight doublet alane<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or ony thing ails Geordie!</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8220;&#8216;Whom has he robbed? What has he stole?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or has he killed ony?</span><br />
+Or what&#8217;s the crime that he has done<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His foes they are so mony?&#8217;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<i>Old Ballad.</i></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">H</span>ue and cry, hubbub and mystery, swept the Isle of Arcady that morning,
+but the most painstaking search and query proved fruitless. It developed
+beyond doubt that the football man had not been seen since his one brief
+appearance on the ballroom floor. Search was transferred to the
+mainland, where, as it neared noon, Lake&#8217;s perseverance and thoroughness
+were rewarded. In Chihuahua suburb, beyond the north wall, Lake noted a
+sweat-marked, red-roan horse in the yard of Rosalio Marquez, better
+known, by reason of his profession, as Monte.</p>
+
+<p>Straightway the banker reported this possible clue to the sheriff and to
+Billy, who was as tireless <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>and determined in the chase as Lake himself.
+The other masqueraders had mostly abandoned the chase. He found them on
+the bridge of the La Luz sallyport.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It may be worth looking into,&#8221; Lake advised the sheriff. &#8220;Better send
+some one to reconnoiter&mdash;some one not known to be connected with your
+office. You go, Billy. If you find anything suspicious the sheriff can
+&#8217;phone to the hospital if he needs me. I&#8217;m going over to see how the old
+watchman is&mdash;ought to have gone before. If he gets well I must do
+something handsome for him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Billy fell in with this request. He had a well-founded confidence in
+Lake&#8217;s luck and attached much more significance to the trifling matter
+of the red-roan horse than did the original discoverer&mdash;especially since
+the discoverer had bethought himself to go to the hospital on an errand
+of mercy. Billy now confidently expected early developments. And he
+preferred personally to conduct the arrest, so that he might interfere,
+if necessary, to prevent any wasting of good cartridges. He did not
+expect much trouble, however, providing the affair was conducted
+tactfully; reasoning that a dead game sport with a clean conscience and
+a light heart would not seriously object to a small arrest. Poor Billy&#8217;s
+own heart was none of the lightest as he went on this loyal service to
+his presumably favored rival.</p>
+
+<p>Bicycle-back, he accompanied the sheriff beyond <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>the outworks to the
+Mexican quarter. Near the place indicated by the banker Billy left his
+wheel and strolled casually round the block. He saw the red-roan steed
+and noted the Double Rainbow branded on his thigh.</p>
+
+<p>Monte was leaning in the adobe doorway, rolling a cigarette. Billy knew
+him, in a business way.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Monte! Good horse you&#8217;ve got there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yais&mdash;tha&#8217;s nice hor-rse,&#8221; said Monte.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Want to sell him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thees ees not my hor-rse,&#8221; explained Monte. &#8220;He ees of a frien&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I like his looks,&#8221; said Billy. &#8220;Is your friend here? Or, if he&#8217;s
+downtown, what&#8217;s his name? I&#8217;d like to buy that horse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He ees weetheen, but he ees not apparent. He ees
+<i>dormiendo</i>&mdash;ah&mdash;yais&mdash;esleepin&#8217;. He was las&#8217; night to the <i>baile
+mascarada</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Billy nodded. &#8220;Yes; I was there myself.&#8221; He decided to take a risk:
+assuming that his calculations were correct, <i>x</i> must equal Bransford.
+So he said carelessly: &#8220;Let&#8217;s see, Bransford went as a sailor, didn&#8217;t
+he? <i>Un marinero?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no; he was atir-re&#8217; lak one&mdash;<i>que cosa</i>?&mdash;what you call thees
+theeng?&mdash;<i>un balon para jugar con los pies</i>? Ah! si, si!&mdash;one feetball!
+Myself I come soon back. I have no beesness. The bes&#8217; people ees all for
+the dance,&#8221; said Monte, with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>hand turned up and shrugging shoulder.
+&#8220;So, <i>media noche</i>&mdash;twelve of the clock, I am here back. I fin&#8217; here the
+hor-rse of my frien&#8217;, and one <i>carta</i>&mdash;letter&mdash;that I am not to lock the
+door; <i>porque</i> he may come to esleep. So I am mek to r-repose myself.
+Later I am ar-rouse when my frien&#8217; am to r-retir-re heemself. Ah, <i>que
+hombre</i>! I am yet to esmile to see heem in thees so r-redeeculous
+<i>vestidos</i>! He ees ver&#8217; gay. Ah! <i>que</i> Jeff! Een all ways thees ees a
+man ver&#8217; <i>sufficiente</i>, cour-rageous, es-trong, formidabble! Yet he ees
+keep the <i>disposicion</i>, the hear-rt, of a seemple leetle chil&#8217;&mdash;<i>un
+muchacho</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll come again,&#8221; said Billy, and passed on. He had found out what he
+had come for. The absence of concealment dispelled any lingering doubt
+of Jeff Buttinski. Yet he could establish no alibi by Monte.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Billy White may require here a little explanation. All things
+considered, Billy thought Jeff would be better off in jail, with a
+friend in the opposite camp working for his interest, than getting
+himself foolishly killed by a hasty posse. If we are cynical, we may say
+that, being young, Billy was not averse to the r&ocirc;le of <i>deus ex
+machina</i>; perhaps a thought of friendly gratitude was not lacking. Then,
+too, adventure for adventure&#8217;s sake is motive enough&mdash;in youth. Or, as a
+final self-revelation, we may hint that if Jeff was a rival, so too was
+Lake&mdash;and one more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>eligible. Let us not be cynical, however, or
+cowardly. Let us say at once shamelessly what we very well know&mdash;that
+youth is the season for clean honor and high emprise; that boy&#8217;s love is
+best and truest of all; that poor, honest Billy, in his own dogged and
+fantastic way, but sought to give true service where he&mdash;loved. There,
+we have said it; and we are shamed. How old are you, sir? Forty? Fifty?
+Most actions are the result of mixed motives, you say? Well, that is a
+notable concession&mdash;at your age. Let it go at that. Billy, then, acted
+from mixed motives.</p>
+
+<p>When Billy brought back his motives&mdash;and the sheriff&mdash;Monte still held
+his negligent attitude in the doorway. He waved a graceful salute.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want to see Bransford,&#8221; said the sheriff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He ees esleepin&#8217;,&#8221; said Monte.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I want to see him anyway!&#8221; The sheriff laid a brusk hand on the
+gatelatch.</p>
+
+<p>Monte waved his cigarette airily, flicked the ash from the end with a
+slender finger, and once more demonstrated that the hand is quicker than
+the eye. The portentously steady gun in the hand was the first
+intimation to the eye that the hand had moved at all. It was a very
+large gun as to caliber, the sheriff noted. As it was pointed directly
+at his nose he was favorably situated to observe&mdash;looking along the
+barrel&mdash;that the hammer stood at full cock.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Per-rhaps you have some papers for heem?&#8221; suggested Monte, with gentle
+and delicate deference. He still leaned against the doorjamb. &#8220;But eef
+not eet ees bes&#8217; that you do not enter thees my leetle house to
+distur-rb my gues&#8217;. That would be to commeet a r-rudeness&mdash;no?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff was a sufficiently brave man, if not precisely a brilliant
+one. Yet he showed now intelligence of the highest order. He dropped the
+latch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You Billy, stop your laughing! Do you know, Mr. Monte, I think you are
+quite right?&#8221; he observed, with a smiling politeness equal to Monte&#8217;s
+own. &#8220;That would be rude, certainly. My mistake. An Englishman&#8217;s house
+is his castle&mdash;that sort of thing? If you will excuse me now we will go
+and get the papers, as you so kindly pointed out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They went away, the sheriff, Billy and motives&mdash;Billy still laughing
+immoderately.</p>
+
+<p>Monte went inside and stirred up his guest with a prodding boot-toe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Meester Jeff,&#8221; he demanded, &#8220;what you been a-doin&#8217; now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff sat up, rumpled his hair, and rubbed his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sleepin&#8217;,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; before? <i>Porque</i>, the sheriff he has been. To mek an arres&#8217; of you,
+I t&#8217;eenk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; said Jeff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t done
+anything that I can remember now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure? No small leetle cr-rime? Not las&#8217; night? Me, I jus&#8217; got up. I
+have not hear&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff considered this suggestion carefully. &#8220;No. I am sure. Not for
+years. Some mistake, I guess. Or maybe he just wanted to see me about
+something else. Why didn&#8217;t he come in?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I mek r-reques&#8217; of heem that he do not,&#8221; said Monte.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; Jeff laughed. &#8220;Come on; we&#8217;ll go see him. You don&#8217;t want to get
+into trouble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They crossed the bridge and met the sheriff just within the
+fortifications, returning in a crowded automobile. Jeff held up his
+hand. The machine stopped and the posse deployed&mdash;except Billy, who
+acted as chauffeur.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You wanted to see me, sheriff&mdash;at the hotel?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, if you don&#8217;t mind,&#8221; said the sheriff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good dinner? I ain&#8217;t had breakfast yet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;First-class,&#8221; said the sheriff cordially. &#8220;Won&#8217;t your friend come too?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, se&ntilde;or, you eshame me that I am not so hospitabble, ees eet not?&#8221;
+purred Monte, as he followed Jeff into the tonneau.</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff reddened and Billy choked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing of the sort,&#8221; said the sheriff hastily, lapsing into
+literalness. &#8220;You were quite within <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>your rights. For that matter, I
+know you were at your own bank, dealing, when the crime was committed. I
+am holding you for the present as a possible accessory; and, if not,
+then as a material witness. By the way, Monte, would you mind if I sent
+some men to look through your place? There is a matter of some thirty
+thousand dollars missing. Lake asked us to look for it. I have papers
+for it if you care to see them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, se&ntilde;or!&#8221; said Monte. He handed over a key. &#8220;<i>La casa es suyo!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said the sheriff, with unmoved gravity. &#8220;Anything of yours
+you want &#8217;em to bring, Bransford?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, no,&#8221; said Jeff cheerfully. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got nothing there but my saddle,
+my gun and an old football suit that belongs to &#8217;Gene Baird, over on the
+West Side; but if you want me to stay long, I wish you&#8217;d look after my
+horse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I too have lef&#8217; there my gun that I keep to protec&#8217; my leetle house,&#8221;
+observed Monte. &#8220;Tell some one to keep eet for me. I am much attach&#8217; to
+that gun.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, I have seen that gun, I think,&#8221; said the sheriff. &#8220;They&#8217;ll
+look out for it. All right, Billy!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The car turned back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh&mdash;you were speaking about Monte being an accessory. I didn&#8217;t get in
+till &#8217;way late last night, and I&#8217;ve been asleep all day,&#8221; said Jeff
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>apologetically. &#8220;Might I ask before or after exactly what fact Monte
+was an accessory?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bank robbery, for one thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!... That would be Lake&#8217;s bank? Anything else?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff was not a patient man and he had borne much; also, he liked
+Lars Porsena. Perfection, even in trifles, is rare and wins affection.
+He turned on Jeff, with an angry growl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Murder!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lake?&#8221; murmured Jeff hopefully.</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff continued, ignoring and, indeed, only half sensing the
+purport of Jeff&#8217;s comment:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At least, the wound may not be mortal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s too bad,&#8221; said Jeff. He was, if possible, more cheerful than
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff glared at him. Billy, from the front seat, threw a word of
+explanation over his shoulder. &#8220;It&#8217;s not Lake. The watchman.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, old Lars Porsena? That&#8217;s different. Not a bad sort, Lars. Maybe
+he&#8217;ll get well. Hope so.... And I shot him? Dear me! When did it
+happen?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll find out soon enough!&#8221; said the sheriff grimly. &#8220;Your
+preliminary&#8217;s right away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hell, I haven&#8217;t had breakfast yet!&#8221; Jeff protested. &#8220;Feed us first or
+we won&#8217;t be tried at all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p><p>Within the jail, while the sheriff spoke with his warder, it occurred to
+Billy that, since Jimmy Phillips was not to be seen, he might as well
+carry his own friendly message. So he said guardedly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Buck up, old man! Keep a stiff upper lip and be careful what you say.
+This is only your preliminary trial, remember. Lots of things may happen
+before court sets. The devil looks after his own, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff had a good ear for voices, however, and Billy&#8217;s mustache still kept
+more than a hint of Mephistopheles. Jeff slowly surveyed Billy&#8217;s natty
+attire, with a lingering and insulting interest for such evidences of
+prosperity as silken hosiery and a rather fervid scarfpin. At last his
+eye met Billy&#8217;s, and Billy was blushing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does he?&#8221; drawled Jeff languidly. &#8220;Ah!... You own the car, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Billy!</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the ingratitude of this rebuff, Billy sought out Jimmy
+Phillips and recounted to him the circumstances of the arrest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, naughty, naughty!&#8221; said the deputy, caressing his nose. &#8220;Lake&#8217;s
+been a cowman on Rainbow. He knew the brand on that horse; he knew Jeff
+was chummy with Monte. He knew in all reason that Jeff was in there, and
+most likely he knew it all the time. So he sneaks off to see
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>Lars&mdash;after shooting him from ambush, damn him!&mdash;and sends you to take
+Jeff. Looks like he might be willing for you and Jeff to damage either,
+which or both of yourselves, as the case may be.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It looks so,&#8221; said Billy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Must be a fine girl!&#8221; murmured Jimmy absently. &#8220;Well, what are you
+going to do? It looks pretty plain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It looks plain to us&mdash;but we haven&#8217;t got a single tangible thing
+against Lake yet. We&#8217;d be laughed out of court if we brought an
+accusation against him. We&#8217;ll have to wait and keep our eyes open.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re sure Lake did it? There was no rubber nosepiece at Monte&#8217;s
+house. All the rest of the football outfit&mdash;but not that. That looks bad
+for Jeff.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On the contrary, that is the strongest link against Lake. I dare say
+Buttinski&mdash;Mr. Bransford&mdash;is eminently capable of bank robbery at odd
+moments; but I know approximately where that noseguard was at sharp
+midnight&mdash;after the watchman was shot.&#8221; Here Billy swore mentally,
+having a very definite guess as to how Jeff might have lost the
+noseguard. &#8220;Lake, Clarke, Turnbull, Thompson, Alec or myself&mdash;one of the
+six of us&mdash;brought that noseguard to the bank after the robbery, and
+only one of the six had a motive&mdash;and a key.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Only one of you had a key,&#8221; corrected Jimmy cruelly. &#8220;But can&#8217;t Jeff
+prove where he was, maybe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He won&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d sure like to see her,&#8221; said Jimmy.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<h2>THE ALIBI</h2>
+
+<p class="center">&#8220;And all love&#8217;s clanging trumpets shocked and blew.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;The executioner&#8217;s argument was, that you couldn&#8217;t cut off a
+head unless there was a body to cut it off from; that he had
+never had to do such a thing before, and he wasn&#8217;t going to
+begin at <i>his</i> time of life.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Alice in Wonderland.</i></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he justice of the peace, when the county court was not in session, held
+hearings in the courtroom proper, which occupied the entire second story
+of the county courthouse. The room was crowded. It was a new courthouse;
+there are people impatient to try even a new hearse; and this bade fair
+to be Arcadia&#8217;s first <i>cause c&eacute;l&egrave;bre</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff sat in the prisoner&#8217;s stall, a target for boring eyes. He was
+conscious of an undesirable situation; exactly how tight a place it was
+he had no means of knowing until he should have heard the evidence. The
+room was plainly hostile; black looks were cast upon him. Deputy
+Phillips, as he entered arm in arm with the sometime devil, gave the
+prisoner an intent but non-committal look, which Jeff rightly
+interpreted as assurance of a friend in ambush; he felt unaccountably
+sure of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>the devil&#8217;s fraternal aid; Monte, lolling within the rail of
+the witness-box, smiled across at him. Still, he would have felt better
+for another friendly face or two, he thought&mdash;say, John Wesley
+Pringle&#8217;s.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff looked from the open window. Cottonwoods, well watered, give
+swiftest growth of any trees and are therefore the dominant feature of
+new communities in dry lands. The courthouse yard was crowded with them:
+Jeff, from the window, could see nothing but their green plumes; and his
+thoughts ran naturally upon gardens&mdash;or, to be more accurate, upon a
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>Would she lose faith in him? Had she heard yet? Would he be able to
+clear himself? No mere acquittal would do. Because of Ellinor, there
+must be no question, no verdict of Not Proven. She would go East
+to-morrow. Perhaps she would not hear of his arrest at all. He hoped
+not. The bank robbery, the murder&mdash;yes, she would hear of them, perhaps;
+but why need she hear his name? Hers was a world so different! He fell
+into a muse at this.</p>
+
+<p>Deputy Phillips passed and stood close to him, looking down from the
+window. His back was to Jeff; but, under cover of the confused hum of
+many voices, he spake low from the corner of his mouth:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Play your hand close to your bosom, old-timer! Wait for the draw and
+watch the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>dealer!&#8221; He strolled over to the other side of the judicial
+bench whence he came.</p>
+
+<p>This vulgar speech betrayed Jimmy as one given to evil courses; but to
+Jeff that muttered warning was welcome as thunder of Bl&uuml;cher&#8217;s squadrons
+to British squares at Waterloo.</p>
+
+<p>Down the aisle came a procession consciously important&mdash;the prosecuting
+attorney; the bank&#8217;s lawyer, who was to assist, &#8220;for the people&#8221;; and
+Lake himself. As they passed the gate Jeff smiled his sweetest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Wally!&#8221; Lake&#8217;s name was Stephen Walter.</p>
+
+<p>Wally made no verbal response; but his undershot jaw did the steel-trap
+act and there was a triumphant glitter in his eye. He turned his broad
+back pointedly&mdash;and Jeff smiled again.</p>
+
+<p>The justice took his seat on the raised dais intervening between Jeff
+and the sheriff&#8217;s desk. Court was opened. The usual tedious
+preliminaries followed. Jeff waived a jury trial, refused a lawyer and
+announced that he would call no witnesses at present.</p>
+
+<p>In an impressive stillness the prosecutor rose for his opening
+statement. Condensed, it recounted the history of the crime, so far as
+known; fixed the time by the watchman&#8217;s statement&mdash;to be confirmed, he
+said, by another witness, the telephone girl on duty at that hour, who
+had heard the explosion and the ensuing gunshot; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>touched upon that
+watchman&#8217;s faithful service and his present desperate condition. He told
+of the late finding of the injured man, the meeting in the bank, the sum
+taken by the robber, and the discovery in the bank of the rubber
+nosepiece, which he submitted as Exhibit A. He cited the witnesses by
+whom he would prove each statement, and laid special stress upon the
+fact that the witness Clarke would testify that the nosepiece had been
+found upon the shattered fragments of the safe door&mdash;conclusive proof
+that it had been dropped after the crime. And he then held forth at some
+length upon the hand of Providence, as manifested in the unconscious
+self-betrayal which had frustrated and brought to naught the prisoner&#8217;s
+fiendish designs. On the whole, he spoke well of Providence.</p>
+
+<p>Now Jeff had not once thought of the discarded noseguard since he first
+found it in his way; he began to see how tightly the net was drawn round
+him. &#8220;There was a serpent in the garden,&#8221; he reflected. A word from Miss
+Hoffman would set him free. If she gave that word at once, it would be
+unpleasant for her: but if she gave it later, as a last resort, it would
+be more than unpleasant. And in that same hurried moment, Jeff knew that
+he would not call upon her for that word. All his crowded life, he had
+kept the happy knack of falling on his feet: the stars, that fought in
+their courses against Sisera, had ever fought for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>reckless Bransford.
+He decided, with lovable folly, to trust to chance, to his wits and to
+his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now, Your Honor, we come to the unbreakable chain of evidence which
+fatally links the prisoner at the bar to this crime. We will prove that
+the prisoner was not invited to the masquerade ball given last night by
+Mr. Lake. We will <span style="white-space: nowrap;">prove&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>There was a stir in the courtroom; the prosecutor paused, disconcerted.
+Eyes were turned to the double door at the back of the courtroom. In the
+entryway at the head of the stairs huddled a group of shrinking girls.
+Before them, one foot upon the threshold, stood Ellinor Hoffman. She
+shook off a detaining hand and stepped into the room, head erect, proud,
+pale. Across the sea of curious faces her eyes met the prisoner&#8217;s. Of
+all the courtroom, Billy and Deputy Phillips alone turned then to watch
+Jeff&#8217;s face. They saw an almost imperceptible shake of his head, a
+finger on lip, a reassuring gesture&mdash;saw, too, the quick pulsebeat at
+his throat.</p>
+
+<p>The color flooded back to Ellinor&#8217;s face. Men nearest the door were
+swift to bring chairs. The prosecutor resumed his interrupted
+speech&mdash;his voice was deep, hard, vibrant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your Honor, the counts against this man are fairly damning! We will
+prove that he was shaved in a barber shop in Arcadia at ten o&#8217;clock
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>last night; that he then rode a roan horse; that the horse was then
+sweating profusely; that this horse was afterward found at the house
+of&mdash;but we will take that up later. We will prove by many witnesses that
+among the masqueraders was a man wearing a football suit, wearing a
+nosepiece similar&mdash;entirely similar&mdash;to the one found in the bank, which
+now lies before you. We will prove that this football player was not
+seen in the ballroom after the hour of eleven <small>P.M.</small> We will prove that
+when he was next seen, without the ballroom, it was not until sufficient
+time had elapsed for him to have committed this awful crime.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ellinor half rose from her seat; again Jeff flashed a warning at her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We will prove this, Your Honor, by a most unwilling witness&mdash;Rosalio
+Marquez&#8221;&mdash;Monte smiled across at Jeff&mdash;&#8220;a friend of the prisoner, who,
+in his behalf, has not scrupled to defy the majesty of the law! We can
+prove by this witness, this reluctant witness, that when he returned to
+his home, shortly after midnight, he found there the prisoner&#8217;s horse,
+which had not been there when Mr. Marquez left the house some four hours
+previously: and that, at some time subsequent to twelve o&#8217;clock, the
+witness Marquez was wakened by the entrance of the prisoner at the bar,
+clad in a football suit, but wearing no nosepiece with it! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>And we have
+the evidence of the sheriff&#8217;s posse that they found in the home of the
+witness, Rosalio Marquez, the football suit&mdash;which we offer as Exhibit
+B. Nay, more! The prisoner did not deny, and indeed admitted, that this
+uniform was his; but&mdash;mark this!&mdash;the searching party found no nosepiece
+there!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is true, Your Honor, that the stolen money was not found upon the
+prisoner; it is true that the prisoner made no use of the opportunity to
+escape offered him by his lawless and disreputable friend, Rosalio
+Marquez&mdash;a common gambler! Doubtless, Your Honor, his cunning had
+devised some diabolical plan upon which he relied to absolve himself
+from suspicion; and now, trembling, he has for the first time learned of
+the fatal flaw in his concocted defense, which he had so fondly deemed
+invincible!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All eyes, including the orator&#8217;s, here turned upon the prisoner&mdash;to find
+him, so far from trembling, quite otherwise engaged. The prisoner&#8217;s
+elbow was upon the rail, his chin in his hand; he regarded Mr. Lake
+attentively, with cheerful amusement and a quizzical smile which in some
+way subtly carried an expression of mockery and malicious triumph. To
+this fixed and disconcerting regard Mr. Lake opposed an iron front, but
+the effort required was apparent to all.</p>
+
+<p>There was an uneasy rustling through the court. The prisoner&#8217;s bearing
+was convincing, natural; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>this was no mere brazen assuming. The banker&#8217;s
+forced composure was not natural! He should have been an angry banker.
+Of the two men, Lake was the less at ease. The prisoner&#8217;s face turned at
+last toward the door. Blank unrecognition was in his eyes as they swept
+past Ellinor, but he shook his head once more, very slightly.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sense of mystery in the air&mdash;a buzz and burr of whispers; a
+rustle of moving feet. The audience noticeably relaxed its implacable
+attitude toward the accused, eyed him with a different interest, seemed
+to feel for the first time that, after all, he was accused merely, and
+that his defense had not yet been heard. The prosecutor felt this subtle
+change; it lamed his periods.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is true, Your Honor, that no eye save God&#8217;s saw this guilty man do
+this deed; but the web of circumstantial evidence is so closely drawn,
+so far-reaching, so unanswerable, so damning, that no defense can avail
+him except the improbable, the impossible establishment of an alibi so
+complete, so convincing, as to satisfy even his bitterest enemy! We will
+ask you, Your Honor, when you have seen how fully the evidence bears out
+our every contention, to commit the prisoner, without bail, to answer
+the charge of robbery and attempted murder!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then, by the door, Jeff saw the girl start up. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>She swept down the
+aisle, radiant, brave, unfearing, resolute, all half-gods gone; she
+shone at him&mdash;proud, glowing, triumphant!</p>
+
+<p>A hush fell upon the thrilled room. Jeff was on his feet, his hand held
+out to stay her; his eyes spoke to hers. She stopped as at a command.
+Scarcely slower, Billy was at her side. &#8220;Wait! Wait!&#8221; he whispered. &#8220;See
+what he has to say. There will be always time for that.&#8221; Jeff&#8217;s eyes
+held hers; she sank into an offered chair.</p>
+
+<p>Cheated, disappointed, the court took breath again. Their dramatic
+moment had been nothing but their own nerves; their own excited
+imaginings had attached a pulse-fluttering significance to the flushed
+cheeks of a prying girl, seeking a better place to see and hear, to
+gratify her morbid curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff turned to the bench.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your Honor, I have a perfectly good line of defense; and I trust no
+friend of mine will undertake to change it. I will keep you but a
+minute,&#8221; he said colloquially. &#8220;I will not waste your time combating the
+ingenious theory which the prosecution has built up, or in
+cross-examination of their witnesses, who, I feel sure&#8221;&mdash;here he bowed
+to the cloud of witnesses&mdash;&#8220;will testify only to the truth. I quite
+agree with my learned friend&#8221;&mdash;another graceful bow&mdash;&#8220;that the case he
+has so ably presented is so strong that it can successfully <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>be rebutted
+only by an alibi so clear and so incontestable, as my learned friend has
+so aptly phrased it, as to convince if not satisfy ... my bitterest
+enemy!&#8221; The bow, the subtle, icy intonation, edged the words. The
+courtroom thrilled again at the unspoken thought: &#8220;<i>An enemy hath done
+this thing!</i>&#8221; If, in the stillness, the prisoner had quoted the words
+aloud in fierce denunciation, the effect could not have been different
+or more startling. &#8220;And that, Your Honor, is precisely what I propose to
+do!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His Honor was puzzled. He was a good judge of men; and the prisoner&#8217;s
+face was not a bad face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But,&#8221; he objected, &#8220;you have refused to call any witnesses for the
+defense. Your unsupported word will count for nothing. You cannot prove
+an alibi alone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t I?&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Watch me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With a single motion he was through the open window. Bending branches of
+the nearest cottonwood broke his fall&mdash;the other trees hid his flight.</p>
+
+<p>Behind him rose uproar, tumult and hullabaloo, a mass of struggling men
+at cross purposes. Gun in hand, the sheriff, stumbling over some one&#8217;s
+foot&mdash;Monte&#8217;s&mdash;ran to the window; but the faithful deputy was before
+him, blocking the way, firing with loving care&mdash;at one particular
+tree-trunk. He was a good shot, Jimmy. He afterward <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>showed with pride
+where each ball had struck in a scant six-inch space. Vainly the sheriff
+tried to force his way through. There was but one stairway, and it was
+jammed. Before the foremost pursuer had reached the open Jeff had
+borrowed one of the saddled horses hitched at the rack and was away to
+the hills.</p>
+
+<p>As Billy struggled through the press, searching for Ellinor, he found
+himself at Jimmy&#8217;s elbow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A dead game sport&mdash;any turn in the road!&#8221; agreed Billy.</p>
+
+<p>The deputy nodded curtly; but his answer was inconsequent:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rather in the brunette line&mdash;that bit of tangible evidence!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<h2>THE NETTLE, DANGER</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Bushel o&#8217; wheat, bushel o&#8217; rye&mdash;<br />
+All &#8217;at ain&#8217;t ready, holler &#8216;I&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<i>Hide and Seek.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>Double Mountain lies lost in the desert, dwarfed by the greatness all
+about. Its form is that of a crater split from north to south into
+irregular halves. Through that narrow cleft ran a straight road, once
+the well-traveled thoroughfare from Rainbow to El Paso. For there was
+precious water within those upheaved walls; it was but three miles from
+portal to portal; the slight climb to the divide had not been grudged.
+Time was when campfires were nightly merry to light the narrow cliffs of
+Double Mountain; when songs were gay to echo from them; when this had
+been the only watering place to break the long span across the desert.
+The railroad had changed all this, and the silent leagues of that old
+road lay untrodden in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>Not untrodden on this the day after Jeff had established his alibi. A
+traveler followed that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>lonely road to Double Mountain; and behind,
+half-way to Rainbow Range, was a streak of dust; which gained on him.
+The traveler&#8217;s sorrel horse was weary, for it was the very horse Jeff
+Bransford had borrowed from the hitching-rail of the courthouse square;
+the traveler was that able negotiator himself; and the pursuing dust, to
+the best of Jeff&#8217;s knowledge and belief, meant him no good tidings.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, I got safe away from the foothills before day,&#8221; soliloquized Jeff.
+&#8220;Some gentleman has overtaken me with a spyglass, I reckon.
+Civilization&#8217;s getting this country plumb ruined! And their horses are
+fresh. Peg along, Alibi! Maybe I can pick up a stray horse at Double
+Mountain. If I can&#8217;t there&#8217;s no sort of use trying to get away on you!
+I&#8217;ll play hide-and-go-seek-&#8217;em. That&#8217;ll let you out, anyway, so cheer
+up! You done fine, old man! If I ever get out of this I&#8217;ll buy you and
+make it all right with you. Pension you off if you think you&#8217;ll like it.
+Get along now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Twenty miles to Jeff&#8217;s right the railroad paralleled the wagonroad in an
+unbroken tangent of ninety miles&#8217; stretch. A southbound passenger train
+crawled along the west like a resolute centipede plodding to a date:
+behind the fugitive, abreast, now far ahead, creeping along the shining
+straightaway. Forty miles the hour was her schedule; yet against this
+vast horizon she could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>hardly be said to change place until, sighting
+beyond her puny length, a new angle of the far western wall completed
+the trinomial line.</p>
+
+<p>Escondido was hidden in a dip of plain&mdash;whence the name, Hidden, when
+done into Saxon speech. The train was lost to sight when she stopped
+there, but Jeff saw the tiny steam plume of her whistling rise in the
+clear and taintless air; long after, the faint sound of it hummed
+drowsily by, like passing, far-blown horns of faerie in a dream. And, at
+no great interval thereafter, a low-lying dust appeared suddenly on the
+hither rim of Escondido&#8217;s sunken valley.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff knew the land as you know your hallway. That line of dust marked
+the trail from Escondido Valley to the farther gate of Double Mountain.
+Even if he should be lucky enough to get a change of mounts at the
+spring in Double Mountain Basin he would be intercepted. Escape by
+flight was impossible. To fight his way out was impossible. He had no
+gun; and, even if he had a gun, he could not see his way to fight, under
+the circumstances. The men who hunted him down were only doing the right
+thing as they saw it. Had Jeff been guilty, it would have been a
+different affair. Being innocent, he could make no fight for it. He was
+cornered.</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Said the little Eohippus:<br />
+&#8216;I&#8217;m going to be a horse!&#8217;&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>So chanted Jeff, perceiving the hopelessness of his plight.</p>
+
+<p>The best gift to man&mdash;or, if not the best, then at least the rarest&mdash;is
+the power to meet the emergency: to do your best and a little better
+than your best when nothing less will serve: to be a pinch hitter. It is
+to be thought that certain stages of affection, and more particularly
+the presence of its object, affect unfavorably the workings of pure
+intellect. Certain it is that capable Bransford, who had cut so sorry a
+figure in Eden garden, now, in these distressing but Eveless
+circumstances, rose to the occasion. Collected, resourceful, he grasped
+every possible angle of the situation and, with the rope virtually about
+his neck, cheerfully planned the impossible&mdash;the essence of his elastic
+plan being to climb that very rope, hand over hand, to safety.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Going round the mountain is no good on a give-out horse. They&#8217;ll follow
+my tracks,&#8221; said Jeff to Jeff. Men who are much alone so shape their
+thoughts by voicing them, just as you practice conversation rather to
+make your own thought clear to yourself than to enlighten your
+victim&mdash;beg pardon&mdash;your neighbor. Just a slip of the tongue. <i>Vecino</i>
+is the Spanish for neighbor, you know. Not so much to enlighten your
+neighbor as to find out for yourself precisely what it is you think.
+&#8220;Hiding in the Basin is no good. Can&#8217;t get out. Would I were a bird!
+Only one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>way. Got to go straight up&mdash;disappear&mdash;vanish in the air. &#8216;Up
+a chimney, up&mdash;&mdash;&#8217; Naw, that&#8217;s backward! &#8216;Up a chimney, down, or down a
+chimney, down; but not up a chimney, up, nor down a chimney, up!&#8217; So
+that&#8217;s settled! Now let me see, says the little man. Mighty few
+Arcadians know me well enough not to be fooled&mdash;mebbe so. Lake? Lake
+won&#8217;t come. He&#8217;ll be busy. There&#8217;s Jimmy; but Jimmy&#8217;s got a shocking bad
+memory for faces sometimes, just now, my face. I think, maybe, I could
+manage Jimmy. The sheriff? That would be real awkward, I reckon. I&#8217;ll
+just play the sheriff isn&#8217;t in the bunch and build my little bluff
+according to that pleasing fancy; for if he comes along it is all off
+with little Jeff!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now lemme see! If Gwin&#8217;s working that little old mine of his&mdash;why,
+he&#8217;ll lie himself black in the face just for the principle of it. Mighty
+interestin&#8217; talker, Gwin is. And if no one&#8217;s there, I&#8217;ll be there. Not
+Jeff Bransford; he got away. I&#8217;ll be Long&mdash;Tobe Long&mdash;working for Gwin.
+Tobe Long. I apprenticed my son to a miner, and the first thing he took
+was a new name!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Far away on the side of Double Mountain he could even now see the white
+triangle of the tent at Gwin&#8217;s mine&mdash;the Ophir&mdash;and the gray dump
+spilling down the hillside. There was no smoke to be seen. Jeff made up
+his mind there was no one at the mine&mdash;which was what he devoutly
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>hoped&mdash;and further developed his gleeful hypothesis.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s see now, Tobe. Got to study this all out. They most always leave
+all their kegs full of water when they go away, so they won&#8217;t have to
+pack &#8217;em up the first thing when they come back. If they did, I&#8217;m all
+right. If they didn&#8217;t, I&#8217;m in a hell of a fix! They&#8217;ll leave &#8217;em full,
+though. Of course they did&mdash;else the kegs would all dry up and fall
+down.&#8221; He glanced over his shoulder. &#8220;Them fellows are ten or twelve
+miles back, I reckon. They&#8217;ll slow up so soon as they see I&#8217;m headed
+off. I&#8217;ll have time to fix things up&mdash;if only there&#8217;s water in the kegs
+at the mine!&#8221; He patted Alibi&#8217;s head: &#8220;Now, old man, do your damnedest!
+It&#8217;s pretty tough on you, but your part will soon be over.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Alibi had made a poor night of it, what with doubling and twisting in
+the foothills, the bitter water of a gyp spring, and the scanty grass of
+a cedar thicket; but he did his plucky best. On the legal other hand, as
+Jeff had prophesied, the dustmakers behind had slackened their gait when
+they perceived, by the dust of Escondido trail, that their allies must
+cut the quarry off. So Alibi held his own with the pursuit.</p>
+
+<p>He came to the rising ground leading to the sheer base of Double
+Mountain; then to the narrow Gap where the mountain had fallen asunder
+in some age-old cataclysm. To the left, the dump <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>of Ophir Mine hung on
+the hillside above the pass; and on the broad trail zigzagging up to it
+were burro-tracks, but no fresh tracks of men. The flaps of the white
+tent on the dump were tightly closed. There was no one at the mine. Jeff
+passed within the walls, through frowning gates of porphyry and gneiss,
+and urged Alibi up the ca&ntilde;on. It was half a mile to the spring. On the
+way he found three shaggy burros grazing beside the road. He drove them
+into the small pen by the spring and tossed his rope on the largest one.
+Then he unsaddled Alibi, tied him to the fence by the bridle rein, and
+searched his pockets for an old letter. This found, he penciled a note
+and tied it to the saddle. It was brief:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p class="right"><span class="smcap">En Route, Four p.m.</span></p>
+
+<p>Please water my horse when he cools off.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your little friend,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Jeff Bransford.</span></p>
+
+<p>P. S. Excuse haste.</p></div>
+
+<p>He made a plain trail of high-heeled boot-tracks to the spring, where he
+drank deep; thence beyond, through the sandy soil, to the nearest rocky
+ridge. Then, careful that every step fell on a bare rock, he came
+circuitously back to the corral, climbed the fence, made his way to the
+tied burro, improvised a bridle of cunning half-hitches, slipped from
+the fence to the burro&#8217;s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>back&mdash;a burro, by the way, is a donkey&mdash;named
+the burro anew as Balaam, and went back down the ca&ntilde;on at the best pace
+of which the belabored and astonished Balaam was capable. As Jeff had
+hoped, the two other burros&mdash;or the other two burros, to be
+precise&mdash;followed sociably, braying remonstrance.</p>
+
+<p>Without the mouth of the ca&ntilde;on Jeff rode up the steep trail to the mine,
+also to the great disgust of his mount; but he must not walk&mdash;it would
+leave boot-tracks. For the same reason, after freeing Balaam, his first
+action was to pull off the telltale boots and replace them with the
+smallest pair of hobnailed miner&#8217;s shoes in the tent. With these he
+carefully obliterated the few boot-tracks at the tent door.</p>
+
+<p>The water-kegs were full; Jeff swore his joyful gratitude and turned his
+eye to the plain. The pursuing dust was still far away&mdash;seven miles, he
+estimated, or possibly eight. The three burros nibbled on the bushes
+below the dump; plainly intending to stay round camp with an eye for
+possible tips. Jeff gave his whole-hearted attention to the
+<i>mise-en-sc&egrave;ne</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Never did stage manager toil so hard, so faithfully, so effectively as
+this one&mdash;or with so great a need. He took stock of the available stage
+properties, beginning with a careful inventory of the grub-chest. To
+betray ignorance of its possibilities or deficiencies would be fatal.
+Following <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>a narrow trail round a little shoulder of hill, he found the
+powder magazine. Taking three sticks of dynamite, with fuse and caps, he
+searched the tent for the candle-box, lit a candle and went into the
+tunnel with a brisk trot. &#8220;If this was a case of fight, now, I&#8217;d have
+some pretty fair weapons here for close quarters,&#8221; said Jeff; &#8220;but the
+way I&#8217;m fixed I can&#8217;t. No fighting goes&mdash;unless Lake comes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the tunnel his luck held good. He found a number of good-sized chunks
+of rock stacked along the wall near the breast&mdash;evidently reserved for
+the ore pile at a more convenient season. Beneath three of the largest
+of these rocks he carefully adjusted the three sticks of giant powder,
+properly capped and fused, lit the fuses and retreated to the safety of
+the dump. Three muffled detonations followed at short intervals. Having
+thus announced the presence of mining operations, he built a fire on the
+kitchen side of the dump to further advertise a mind conscious of its
+own rectitude. The pleasant shadow of the hills was cool about him; the
+flame rose clear and bright in the windless air, to be seen from far
+away.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at the location papers in the monument by the ore stack;
+simultaneously, by way of economizing time, emptying a can of salmon.
+This was partly for the added verisimilitude of the empty tin, partly
+because he was ravenously <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>hungry. You may guess how he emptied the tin.</p>
+
+<p>The mine had changed owners since Jeff&#8217;s knowledge of it. It was no
+longer Gwin&#8217;s sole property. The notice bore the signatures of J. Gwin,
+C. W. Sanders and Walter Fleck. Jeff grinned and his eye brightened. He
+knew Fleck only slightly; but Fleck&#8217;s reputation among the cowmen was
+good&mdash;that is to say, as you would see it, very bad.</p>
+
+<p>Pappy Sanders, postmaster and storekeeper of Escondido, was an old and
+sorely tried friend of Jeff&#8217;s. If Pappy had grub-staked the outfit&mdash;&mdash;A
+far-away plan began to shape vaguely in his fertile brain. He took the
+little turquoise horse from his pocket and laid it in the till of the
+violated trunk. Were you told about the violated trunk? Never mind&mdash;he
+had done any amount of other things of which you have not been told; for
+it was his task, in the brief time allotted to him, to master all the
+innumerable details needful for an intelligent reading of his part. He
+must make no blunders.</p>
+
+<p>He toiled like two men, each swifter and more savagely efficient than
+himself; he upset the prim, old he-maidenish order of that carefully
+packed, spick-and-span camp; he rumpled the beds; strewed old clothes,
+books, candles, specimens, pipes and cigarette papers with lavish hand;
+made untidy, sprawling heaps of tin plates; knives, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>forks and spoons;
+spilled candle-grease and tobacco on the scoured table; and generally
+gave things a cozy and habitable appearance.</p>
+
+<p>He gave a hundred deft touches here and there. He spread an open book
+face downward on the table. (It was &#8220;Alice in Wonderland,&#8221; and he opened
+it at the Mock-Turtle.) Meanwhile an unoccupied eye snatched titles from
+a shelf of books against possible question; he penned a short note to
+himself&mdash;Mr. Tobe Long&mdash;in Gwin&#8217;s handwriting, folded the note to
+creases, twisted it to a spill, lit it, burned a corner of it, pinched
+it out and threw it under the table; and, while doing these and other
+things, he somehow managed to shed every article of Jeff Bransford&#8217;s
+clothing and to put on the work-stained garments of a miner.</p>
+
+<p>The perspiration on his face was no stage make-up, but good, honest
+sweat. He rubbed stone-dust and sand on his sweaty arms and into his
+sweaty hair; he rubbed most of it from his hair and into the two-days&#8217;
+stubble on his face, simultaneously fishing razor and mug from the
+trunk, leaving them in evidence on the table. He worked stone-dust into
+his ears, behind his ears; he grimed it on forehead and neck; he even
+dropped a little into his shoes, which all this while had been
+performing independent miracles to make the camp look comfortable. He
+threw on a dingy cap, thrust in the cap a miner&#8217;s candlestick, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>with a
+lighted candle, that it might properly drip upon him while he arranged
+further details&mdash;and so faced the world as Tobe Long, a stooped and
+overworked man!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tobe Long, working with feverish haste, dug a small cave half-way
+down the steep side of the dump farthest from the road and buried
+therein a tightly rolled bundle containing every article appertaining to
+the defunct Bransford, with the single exception of the little eohippus;
+a pocketknife, which a miner must have to cut powder and fuse, having
+been found in the trunk&mdash;what time also the little turquoise horse was
+transferred to Mr. Long&#8217;s pocket to bring him luck in his new career&mdash;a
+poor thing compared with the cowman&#8217;s keen blade, but better for Mr.
+Long&#8217;s purposes, as smelling strongly of dynamite. Then Mr.
+Long&mdash;Tobe&mdash;hid the grave by sliding and shoveling broken rock down the
+dump upon it.</p>
+
+<p>Next he threw into a wheelbarrow drills, spoon, tamping stick, gads,
+drill-hammer, rock-hammer, canteen, shovel and pick&mdash;taking care, even
+in his haste, to select a properly matched set of drills&mdash;and trundled
+the barrow up the drift at a pace which would give a Miners&#8217; Union the
+rabies. At the breast, he unshipped his cargo in right miner&#8217;s fashion,
+the drills in a graduated stepladder row along the wall; loaded the
+barrow with broken ore, a bit of charred fuse showing at the top, and
+wheeled it out at the same unprofessional <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>gait, leaving it on the dump
+just above the spot where his late sepulchral rites had freshened the
+appearance of the sunbeaten dump.</p>
+
+<p>He next performed his ablutions in an amateurish and perfunctory
+fashion, scrupulously observing a well-defined waterline.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; said Mr. Long. &#8220;I near made a break that time!&#8221; He went back to
+the barrow and trundled it assiduously to the tunnel&#8217;s mouth and back
+several times, carefully never in quite the same place&mdash;finally leaving
+it not above the sepulchered spoil, but near the ore stack, as befitted
+its valuable contents. &#8220;I got to think of everything. One wrong break&#8217;ll
+fix me good!&#8221; said Mr. Long. He felt his neck delicately, as if he
+detected some foreign presence there. &#8220;In the tunnel, now, there&#8217;s only
+the one place where the wheel can go; so it don&#8217;t matter so much in
+there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The fire having now burned down to proper coals, Mr. Long set about
+supper; with the corner of his eye on the lookout for the pursuers of
+the late Bransford. He set the coffee-pot by the fire&mdash;they were now in
+the edge of the tar-brush; there were only two of them. He put on a pot
+of potatoes in their jackets&mdash;he could see them plainly, diminutive
+black horsemen twinkling through the brush; he sliced bacon into a
+frying-pan and put it aside to await his cue; he disposed other cooking
+ware in lifelike attitudes near <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>the fire&mdash;they were in the long shadow
+of Double Mountain; their horses were jaded; they rode slowly. He
+dropped the sour-dough jar and placed the broken pieces where they would
+be inconspicuously visible. Having thus a perfectly obvious excuse for
+not having sour-dough bread, which requires thirty-six hours of running
+start for preliminary rising, Jeff&mdash;Mr. Tobe Long&mdash;mixed up a
+just-as-good baking-powder substitute&mdash;they rode like young men; they
+rode like young men not to the saddle born, and Tobe permitted himself a
+chuckle: &#8220;By hooky, I&#8217;ve got an even chance for my little bluff!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head reprovingly at himself for this last admission. With
+every minute he looked more like Tobe Long than ever&mdash;if only there had
+been any Tobe Long to look like. His mind ran upon nuggets, pockets,
+placers, faults, true fissure veins, the cyanide process, concentrates,
+chlorides, sulphides, assays, leases and bonds; his face took on the
+strained wistfulness which marks the confirmed prospector: he <i>was</i> Tobe
+Long!</p>
+
+<p>The bell rang.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3>
+
+<h2>THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<i>The Dictionary.</i><br /></p></div>
+
+<p>&#160;</p>
+
+<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">H</span>o-o-e-ee! Hello-o!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As the curtain rose to the flying echoes Long stepped to the edge of the
+dump, frying-pan in hand, and sent back an answering shout in the
+startled high note of a lonely man taken unawares.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello-o!&#8221; He brandished his hospitable pan. Then he put it down, cupped
+hands to mouth and trumpeted a hearty welcome: &#8220;Chuck! Come up! Supper&#8217;s
+ready!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t! See any one go by about two hours ago?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hey? Louder!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;See a man on a sorrel horse?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No-o! I been in the tunnel. Come up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t. We&#8217;re after an outlaw!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After a murderer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait a minute! I&#8217;ll be down. Too hard to yell so far.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Long started precipitately down the zigzag; but the riders had got
+all the information of interest that Mr. Long could furnish and they
+were eager to be in at the death.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t wait! He&#8217;s inside the mountain, somewheres. Some of the boys are
+waiting for him at the other end.&#8221; They rode on.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long posed for a statue of Disappointment, hung on the steep trail
+rather as if he might conclude to coil himself into a ball and roll down
+the hill to overtake them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop as you come back!&#8221; he bellowed. &#8220;Want to hear about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Did Jeff&mdash;Mr. Long&mdash;did Mr. Long now attempt to escape? Not so. Gifted
+with prevision beyond most, Mr. Long&#8217;s mind misgave him that these young
+men would be baffled in their pleasing expectations. They would be back
+before sundown, very cross; and a miner&#8217;s brogan leaves a track not to
+be missed.</p>
+
+<p>That Mr. Long was unfeignedly fatigued from the varied efforts of the
+day need not be mentioned, for that alone would not have stayed his
+flight; but the nearest water, save Escondido, was thirty-five miles;
+and at Escondido he would be watched for&mdash;not to say that, when he was
+missed, some of the searching party would straightway go to Escondido to
+frustrate him. Present escape was not to be thought of.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p><p>Instead, Mr. Long made a hearty meal from the simple viands that had
+been in course of preparation when he was surprised, eked out by canned
+corn fried in bacon grease to a crisp, golden brown. Then, after a
+cigarette, he betook himself to sharpening tools with laudable industry.
+The tools were already sharp, but that did not stop Mr. Long. He built a
+fire in the forge, set up a stepladder of matched drills in the
+blackened water of the tempering tub; he thrust a gad and one short
+drill into the fire. When the gad was at a good cherry heat he thrust it
+hissing into the tub to bring the water to a convincing temperature; and
+when reheated he did it again. From time to time he held the one drill
+to the anvil and shaped it, drawing it alternately to a chisel bit or a
+bull bit. Mr. Long could sharpen a drill with any, having been, in very
+truth, a miner of sorts&mdash;he could toy thus with one drill without giving
+it any very careful attention, and his thoughts were now busy on how
+best to be Mr. Long.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly from time to time he added an artistic touch to Mr.
+Long&mdash;grime under his fingernails, a smudge of smut on an eyebrow. His
+hands displeased him. After some experimenting to get the proper heat of
+it he grasped the partially cooled gad with the drill-pincers and held
+it very lightly to a favored few of those portions of the hand known to
+chiromaniacs as the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>mounts of Jupiter, Saturn and other extinct
+immortals.</p>
+
+<p>Satisfactory blisters-while-you-wait were thus obtained. These were
+pricked with a pin; some were torn to tatters, with dust and coal rubbed
+in to give them a venerable appearance. The pain was no light matter;
+but Mr. Long had a real affection for Mr. Bransford&#8217;s neck, and it is
+trifles like these that make perfection.</p>
+
+<p>The next expedient was even more heroic. Mr. Long assiduously put
+stone-dust in one eye, leaving it tearful, bloodshot and violently
+inflamed; and the other one was sympathetically red. &#8220;Bit o&#8217; steel in my
+eye,&#8221; explained Mr. Long. Unselfish devotion such as this is all too
+rare.</p>
+
+<p>All this while, at proper intervals, Mr. Long sharpened and resharpened
+that one long-suffering drill. He tripped into the tunnel and smote a
+mighty blow upon the country rock with a pick&mdash;therefore qualifying that
+pick for repointing&mdash;and laid it on the forge as next on the list.</p>
+
+<p>What further outrage he meditated is not known, for he now heard a horse
+coming up the trail. He was beating out a merry tattoo when a
+white-hatted head rose through a trapdoor&mdash;rose above the level of the
+dump, rather.</p>
+
+<p>Hammer in hand, Long straightened up joyfully as best he could, but
+could not straighten up the telltale droop of his shoulders. It was not
+altogether assumed, either, this hump. Jeff&mdash;Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>Long&mdash;had not done so
+much work of this sort for years and there was a very real pain between
+his shoulderblades. Still, but for the exigencies of art, he might have
+borne his neck less turtlewise than he did.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello! Get him? Where&#8217;s your pardner?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Watching the gap.&#8221; The young man, rather breathless from the climb,
+answered the last question first as he led his horse on the dump. &#8220;No,
+we didn&#8217;t get him; but he can&#8217;t get away. Hiding somewhere in the Basin
+afoot. Found his horse. Pretty well done up.&#8221; The insolence of the
+outlaw&#8217;s letter smote him afresh; he reddened. &#8220;No tracks going out of
+the Basin. Two of our friends guarding the other end. They say he can&#8217;t
+get out over the cliffs anywhere. That so?&#8221; The speech came jerkily; he
+was still short of breath from his scramble.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not without a flying machine,&#8221; said Long. &#8220;No way out that I know of,
+except where the wagonroad goes. What&#8217;s he done?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Robbery! Murder! We&#8217;ll see that he don&#8217;t get out by the wagonroad,&#8221;
+asserted the youth confidently. &#8220;Watch the gaps and starve him out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, speaking of starving,&#8221; said Tobe, &#8220;go into the tent and I&#8217;ll bring
+you some supper while you tell me about it. Baked up another batch of
+bread on the chance you&#8217;d come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, thank you very much, Mr.&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Long&mdash;Tobe Long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Long. My name is Gurdon Steele. Glad to meet you. Why, if you will
+be so kind&mdash;that is what I came up to see you about. If you can let us
+have what we need; of course we will pay you for it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course you won&#8217;t!&#8221; It had not needed the offer to place Mr. Gurdon
+Steele quite accurately. He was a handsome lad, fresh-complexioned,
+dressed in the Western manner as practised on the Boardwalk. &#8220;You&#8217;re
+welcome to what I got, sure; but I ain&#8217;t got much variety. Gwin, the old
+liar, said he was coming out the twentieth&mdash;and sure enough he didn&#8217;t;
+so the grub&#8217;s running low. Table in the tent&mdash;come on!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, I couldn&#8217;t, you know! Rex&mdash;that&#8217;s my partner&mdash;is quite as
+hungry as I am, you see; but if you could give me something&mdash;anything
+you have&mdash;to take down there? I really couldn&#8217;t, you know!&#8221; The
+admirable doctrine of <i>noblesse oblige</i> in its delicate application by
+this politeness, was easier for its practitioner than to put it into
+words suited to the comprehension of his hearer; he concluded lamely:
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll take it down there and we will eat it together.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;See here,&#8221; said Tobe, &#8220;I&#8217;m as hungry to hear about your outlaw as you
+are to eat. I&#8217;ll just throw my bedding and a lot of chuck on your
+saddle. We&#8217;ll carry the coffee-pot and frying-pan <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>in our hands&mdash;and the
+sugar-can and things like that. You can tank up and give me the news in
+small chunks at the same time. Afterward two of us can sleep while one
+stands guard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This was done. It was growing dark when they reached the bottom of the
+hill. The third guardsman had built a fire.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rex, this is Mr. Long, who has been kind enough to grubstake us and
+share our watch with us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Steele, you have observed, had accepted Mr. Long without question;
+but his first impression of Mr. Long had been gained under circumstances
+highly favorable to the designs of the latter gentleman. Mr. Steele had
+come upon him unexpectedly, finding him as it were <i>in medias res</i>, with
+all his skillfully arranged scenery to aid the illusion. The case was
+now otherwise&mdash;the thousand-tongued vouching of his background lacked to
+him; Mr. Long had naught save his own unthinkable audacity to belie his
+face withal. From the first instant Mr. Rex Griffith was the prey of
+suspicions&mdash;acute, bigoted, churlish, deep, dark, distrustful, damnable,
+and so on down to zealous. He had a sharp eye; he wore no puttees; and
+Mr. Long had a vaguely uncomfortable memory, holding over from some
+previous incarnation, of having seen that long, shrewd face in a
+courtroom.</p>
+
+<p>The host, on hospitable rites intent, likewise <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>all ears and eager
+questionings, was all unconscious of hostile surveillance. Nothing could
+be more carefree, more at ease than his bearing; his pleasant
+anticipatory excitement was the natural outlook for a lonely and
+newsless man. As the hart panteth for the water, so he thirsted for the
+story; but his impatient, hasty questions, following false scents,
+delayed the telling of the Arcadian tale. So innocent was he, so open
+and aboveboard, that Griffith, watching, alert, felt thoroughly ashamed
+of himself. Yet he watched, doubting still, though his reason rebelled
+at the monstrous imaginings of his heart. That the outlaw, unarmed and
+unasked, should venture&mdash;Pshaw! Such effrontery was inconceivable. He
+allowed Steele to tell the story, himself contributing only an
+occasional crafty question designed to enable his host to betray
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bransford?&#8221; interrupted Mr. Long. &#8220;Not Jeff Bransford&mdash;up South Rainbow
+way?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the man,&#8221; said Steele.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe it,&#8221; said Long flatly. He was sipping coffee with his
+guests; he put his cup down. &#8220;I know him, a little. He <span style="white-space: nowrap;">don&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, there&#8217;s no doubt of it!&#8221; interrupted Steele in his turn. He
+detailed the circumstances with skilful care. &#8220;Besides, why did he run
+away? Gee! You ought to have seen that escape! It was splendid!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, now, who&#8217;d &#8217;a&#8217; thought that?&#8221; demanded <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>Long, still only half
+convinced. &#8220;He didn&#8217;t strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you never
+can tell! How come you fellows to be chasin&#8217; him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; said Steele, &#8220;every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow.
+The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but we
+four&mdash;Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us, you
+know&mdash;we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were out
+early&mdash;sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me&mdash;and we had a
+spyglass. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between two
+hills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding a
+sorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. We
+didn&#8217;t suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried to
+pick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid the
+ridges&mdash;keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after him
+pell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not to
+make a dust&mdash;that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not deputies, then?&#8221; said Long.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, not at all!&#8221; said Steele, secretly flattered. &#8220;So Harlow and
+Stone galloped off to town. The program was that they&#8217;d wire down to
+Escondido to have horses ready for them, come down on Number Six and
+head him off. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>They were not to tell any one in Arcadia. There&#8217;s five
+thousand dollars&#8217; reward out for him&mdash;but it isn&#8217;t that exactly. It was
+a cowardly, beastly murder, don&#8217;t you know; and we thought it would be
+rather a big thing if we could take him alone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You got him penned all right,&#8221; said Tobe. &#8220;He can&#8217;t get out, so far as
+I know, unless he runs over us or the men at the other end. By George,
+we must get away from this fire, too!&#8221; He set the example, dragging the
+bedding with him to the shelter of a big rock. &#8220;He could pick us off too
+slick here in the light. How&#8217;re you going to get him? There&#8217;s a heap of
+country in that Basin, all rough and broken, full o&#8217; boulders&mdash;mighty
+good cover.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Starve him out!&#8221; said Griffith. This was base deceit. Deep in his heart
+he believed that the quarry sat beside him, well fed and contented. Yet
+the unthinkable insolence of it&mdash;if this were indeed Bransford&mdash;dulled
+his belief.</p>
+
+<p>Long laughed as he spread down the bed. &#8220;He&#8217;ll shoot a deer. Maybe, if
+he had it all planned out, he may have grub cached in there somewhere.
+There&#8217;s watertanks in the rocks. Say, what are your pardners at the
+other side going to do for grub?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, they brought out cheese and crackers and stuff,&#8221; said Gurd.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you what, boys, you&#8217;ve bit off more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>than you can chaw,&#8221; said
+Jeff&mdash;Tobe, that is. &#8220;He can&#8217;t get out without a fight&mdash;but, then, you
+can&#8217;t go in there to hunt for him without weakening your guard; and he&#8217;d
+be under shelter and have all the best of it. He&#8217;d shoot you so dead
+you&#8217;d never know what happened. I don&#8217;t want none of it! I&#8217;d as lief put
+on boxing gloves and crawl into a hole after a bear! Look here, now,
+this is your show; but I&#8217;m a heap older&#8217;n you boys. Want to know what I
+think?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; said Rex.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Goin&#8217; to talk turkey to me?&#8221; An avaricious light came into Long&#8217;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course; you&#8217;re in on the reward,&#8221; said Rex diffidently and rather
+stiffly. &#8220;We are not in this for the money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can use the money&mdash;whatever share you want to give me,&#8221; said Long
+dryly; &#8220;but if you take my advice my share won&#8217;t be but a little. I
+think you ought to keep under shelter at the mouth of this ca&ntilde;on&mdash;one of
+you&mdash;and let the other one go to Escondido and send for help, quick, and
+a lot of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter with you going?&#8221; asked Griffith disingenuously. He
+wanted Long to show his hand. It would never do to abandon the siege of
+Double Mountain to arrest this <i>soi-disant</i> Long on mere suspicion. On
+the other hand, Mr. Rex Griffith had no idea of letting Long escape his
+clutches until his identity was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>established, one way or the other,
+beyond all question.</p>
+
+<p>That was why Long declined the offer. His honest gaze shifted. &#8220;I ain&#8217;t
+much of a rider,&#8221; he said evasively. Young Griffith read correctly the
+thought which the excuse concealed. Evidently Long considered himself an
+elder soldier, if not a better, than either of his two young guests, but
+wished to spare their feelings by not letting them find it out. Griffith
+found this plain solution inconsistent with his homicidal theory: a
+murderer, fleeing for his life, would have jumped at the chance.</p>
+
+<p>There are two sides to every question. Let us, this once, prove both
+sides. Wholly oblivious to Griffith&#8217;s lynx-eyed watchfulness and his
+leading questions, Mr. Long yet recognized the futility of an attempt to
+ride away on Mr. Griffith&#8217;s horse with Mr. Griffith&#8217;s benison. There we
+have the other point of view.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll have to send for grub anyway,&#8221; pursued the sagacious Mr. Long.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve only got a little left; and that old liar, Gwin, won&#8217;t be out for
+four days&mdash;if he comes then. And&mdash;er&mdash;look here now&mdash;if I was you boys
+I&#8217;d let the sheriff and his posse smoke your badger out. They get paid
+to tend to that&mdash;and it looks to me like some one was going to get hurt.
+You&#8217;ve done enough.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All this advice was so palpably sound that the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>doubter was, for the
+second, staggered&mdash;for a second only. This was the man he had seen in
+the prisoner&#8217;s dock. He was morally sure of it. For all the difference
+of appearance, this was the man. Yet those blasts&mdash;the far-seen
+fire&mdash;the hearty welcome&mdash;this delivery of himself into their hands?...
+Griffith scarcely knew what he did think. He blamed himself for his
+unworthy suspicions; he blamed Gurdy more for having no suspicions at
+all.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anything else?&#8221; he said. &#8220;That sounds good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tobe studied for some time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he said at last, &#8220;there may be some way he can get out. I don&#8217;t
+think he can&mdash;but he might find a way. He knows he&#8217;s trapped; but likely
+he has no idea yet how many of us there are. So we know he&#8217;ll try, and
+he won&#8217;t be just climbing for fun. He&#8217;ll take a chance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Steele broke in:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He didn&#8217;t leave any rope on his saddle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tobe nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So he means to try it. Now here&#8217;s five of us here. It seems to me that
+some one ought to ride round the mountain the first thing in the
+morning, and every day afterward&mdash;only here&#8217;s hoping there won&#8217;t be many
+of &#8217;em&mdash;to look for tracks. There isn&#8217;t one chance in a hundred he can
+climb out; but if he goes out of here afoot we&#8217;ve got him sure. The man
+on guard wants to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>keep in shelter. It&#8217;s light to-night&mdash;there&#8217;s no
+chance for him to slip out without being seen. You say the old watchman
+ain&#8217;t dead yet, Mr. Griffith?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. The latest bulletin was that he was almost holding his own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hope he gets well,&#8221; said Long. &#8220;Good old geezer! Now, cap, I&#8217;ve worked
+hard and you&#8217;ve ridden hard. Better set your guards and let the other
+two take a little snooze.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Griffith was not proof against the insidious flattery of this unhesitant
+preference. He flushed with embarrassment and pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, if I&#8217;m to be captain, Gurd will take the first guard&mdash;till
+eleven. Then you come on till two, Mr. Long. I&#8217;ll stand from then on
+till daylight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In five minutes Mr. Long was enjoying the calm and restful sleep of
+fatigued innocence; but his poor captain was doomed to have a bad night
+of it, with two Bransfords on his hands&mdash;one in the Basin and one in the
+bed beside him. His head was dizzy with the vicious circle. Like the
+gentlewoman of the nursery rhyme, he was tempted to cry: &#8220;Lawk &#8217;a&#8217; mercy
+on me, this is none of I!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>If he haled his bedmate to justice and the real Bransford got away&mdash;that
+would be a nice predicament for an ambitious young man! He was sensitive
+to ridicule, and he saw here such an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>opportunity to earn it as knocks
+but once at any man&#8217;s door.</p>
+
+<p>If, on the other hand, while he held Bransford cooped tightly in the
+Basin, this thrice-accursed Long should escape him and there should be
+no Bransford in the Basin&mdash;&mdash;What nonsense! What utter twaddle!
+Bransford was in the Basin. He had found his horse and saddle, his
+tracks; no tracks had come out of the Basin. Immediately on the
+discovery of the outlaw&#8217;s horse, Gurd had ridden back posthaste and held
+the pass while he, the captain, had gone to the mouth of the southern
+ca&ntilde;on and posted his friends. He had watched for tracks of a footman
+every step of the way, going and coming; there had been no tracks.
+Bransford was in the Basin. He watched the face of the sleeping man.
+But, by Heaven, this was Bransford!</p>
+
+<p>Was ever a poor captain in such a predicament? A moment before he had
+fully and definitely decided once for all that this man was not
+Bransford, could not be Bransford; that it was not possible! His reason
+unwaveringly told him one thing, his eyesight the other!... Yet
+Bransford, or an unfortunate twin of his, lay now beside him&mdash;and, for
+further mockery, slept peacefully, serene, untroubled.... He looked upon
+the elusive Mr. Long with a species of horror! The face was drawn and
+lined. Yet, but forty-eight hours of tension would have left
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>Bransford&#8217;s face not otherwise. He had noticed Bransford&#8217;s hands in the
+courtroom&mdash;noticed their well-kept whiteness, due, as he had decided, to
+the perennial cowboy glove. This man&#8217;s hands, as he had seen by the
+campfire, were blistered and calloused! Callouses were not made in a
+day. He took another look at Long. Oh, thunder!</p>
+
+<p>He crept from bed. He whispered a word to sentry Steele; not to outline
+the distressing state of his own mind, but merely to request Steele not
+to shoot him, as he was going up to the mine.</p>
+
+<p>He climbed up the trail, chewing the unpalatable thought that Gurdon had
+seen nothing amiss&mdash;yet Gurd had been at the trial! The captain began to
+wish he had never gone on that deerhunt.</p>
+
+<p>He went into the tent, struck a match, lit a candle and examined
+everything closely. There was no gun in the camp and no cartridges. He
+found the spill of twisted paper under the table, smothered his qualms
+and read it. He noted the open book for future examination in English.
+And now Tobe&#8217;s labors had their late reward, for Rex missed nothing.
+Every effort brought fresh disappointment and every disappointment
+spurred him to fresh effort. He went into the tunnel; he scrutinized
+everything, even to the drills in the tub. The food supply tallied with
+Long&#8217;s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>account. No detail escaped him and every detail confirmed the
+growing belief that he, Captain Griffith, was a doddering imbecile.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the outpost, convinced at last. Nevertheless, merely to
+quiet the ravings of his insubordinate instincts, now in open revolt, he
+restaked the horses nearer to camp and cautiously carried both saddles
+to the head of the bed. Concession merely encouraged the rebels to
+further and successful outrages&mdash;the government was overthrown.</p>
+
+<p>He drew sentry Steele aside and imparted his doubts. That faithful
+follower heaped scorn, mockery, laughter and abuse upon his shrinking
+superior: recounted all the points, from the first blasts of dynamite to
+the present moment, which favored the charitable belief above mentioned
+as newly entertained by Captain Griffith concerning himself. This belief
+of Captain Griffith was amply indorsed by his subordinate in terms of
+point and versatility.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course they look alike. I noticed that the minute I saw him&mdash;the
+same amount of legs and arms, features all in the fore part of his head,
+hair on top, one body&mdash;wonderful! Why, you pitiful ass, that Bransford
+person was a mighty keen-looking man in any company. This fellow&#8217;s a
+yokel&mdash;an old, rusty, cap-and-ball, single-shot muzzle-loader. The
+Bransford was an automatic, steel-frame, high <span style="white-space: nowrap;">velocity&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;The better head he has the more apt he is to do the unexpected&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aw, shut up! You&#8217;ve got incipient paresis! Stuff your ears in your
+mouth and go to sleep!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The captain sought his couch convinced, but holding his first opinion,
+savagely minded to arrest Mr. Long rather than let him have a gun to
+stand guard with. He was spared the decision. Mr. Long declined Gurdon&#8217;s
+proffered gun, saying that he would be right there and he was a poor
+shot anyway.</p>
+
+<p>Gurdon slept; Long took his place&mdash;and Captain Rex, from the bed,
+watched the watcher. Never was there a more faithful sentinel than Mr.
+Long. Without relaxing his vigilance even to smoke, he strained every
+faculty lest the wily Bransford should creep out through the shadows.
+The captain saw him, a stooped figure, sitting motionless by his rock,
+always alert, peering this way and that, turning his head to listen.
+Once Tobe saw something. He crept noiselessly to the bed and shook his
+chief. Griffith came, with his gun. Something was stirring in the
+bushes. After a little it moved out of the shadows. It was a prowling
+coyote. The captain went back to bed once more convinced of Long&#8217;s
+fidelity, but resolved to keep a relentless eye on him just the same.
+And all unawares, as he revolved the day&#8217;s events in his mind, the
+captain dropped off to troubled sleep.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Long woke him at three. There had been a temptation to ride away,
+but the saddles were at the head of the bed, the ground was stony; he
+would be heard. He might have made an attempt to get both guns from
+under the pillow, but detection meant ruin for him, since to shoot these
+boys or to hurt them was out of the question. Escape by violence would
+have been easy and assured. Jeff preferred to trust his wits. He was
+enjoying himself very much.</p>
+
+<p>When the captain got his relentless eyes open and realized what had
+chanced he saw that further doubt was unworthy. Half an hour later the
+unworthy captain stole noiselessly to Long&#8217;s bedside and saw, to his
+utter rage and distraction, that Mr. Bransford was there again. It was
+almost too much to bear. He felt that he should always hate Long, even
+after Bransford was safely hanged. Bransford&#8217;s head had slipped from
+Long&#8217;s pillow. Hating himself, Griffith subtly withdrew the miner&#8217;s
+folded overalls and went through the pockets.</p>
+
+<p>He found there a knife smelling of dynamite, matches, a turquoise carved
+to what was plainly meant to be the form of a bad-tempered horse, and
+two small specimens of ore!</p>
+
+<p>Altogether, the captain passed a wild and whirling night.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3>
+
+<h2>THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN (<i>Continued</i>)</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;If the bowl had been stronger<br />
+My tale had been longer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<i>Mother Goose</i>.</p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>hen the sun peeped over Rainbow Range, Captain Griffith bent over Tobe
+Long&#8217;s bed. His eyes were aching, burned and sunken; the lids twitched;
+his face was haggard and drawn&mdash;but he had arrived at an unalterable
+decision. This thing could not and should not go on. His brain reeled
+now&mdash;another such night would entitle him to state protection.</p>
+
+<p>He shook Mr. Long roughly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;See here! I believe you&#8217;re Bransford himself!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus taken off his guard, Long threw back the bedding, rose to one
+elbow, still half asleep, and reached for his shoes, laughing and
+yawning alternately. Then, as he woke up a little more, he saw a better
+way to dress, dropped the shoes and unfurled his pillow&mdash;which, by day,
+he wore as overalls. Fumbling behind him, where the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>pillow had lain, he
+found a much-soiled handkerchief and tenderly dabbed at his swollen eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bit of steel in my eye from a drill-head,&#8221; he explained. &#8220;Jiminy, but
+it&#8217;s sore!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Plainly he took the accusation as a pleasantry calling for no answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I mean it! I&#8217;m going to keep you under guard!&#8221; said Captain Griffith
+bitingly.</p>
+
+<p>Poor, sleepy Tobe, half-way into his overalls, stared up at Mr.
+Griffith; his mouth dropped open&mdash;he was quite at a loss for words. The
+captain glared back at him. Tobe kicked the overalls off and cuddled
+back into bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bully!&#8221; he said. &#8220;Then I won&#8217;t have to get breakfast!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gurdon Steele sat up in bed, a happy man. His eye gave Mr. Long a
+discreetly confidential look, as of one who restrains himself, out of
+instinctive politeness, from a sympathetic and meaningful tap of one&#8217;s
+forehead. A new thought struck Mr. Long. He reached over behind Steele
+for the rifle at the bed&#8217;s edge and thrust it into the latter&#8217;s hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here, Boy Scout! Watch me!&#8221; he whispered. &#8220;Don&#8217;t let me escape while I
+sleep a few lines! I&#8217;m Bransford!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gurdie rubbed his eyes and giggled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you mind Rex. That&#8217;s the worst of this pipe habit. You never can
+tell how they&#8217;ll break out next.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, laugh, you blind bat!&#8221; said Rex bitterly. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got him all the
+same, and I&#8217;m going to keep him while you go to Escondido!&#8221; His rifle
+was tucked under his arm; he patted the barrel significantly.</p>
+
+<p>It slowly dawned upon Mr. Long that Captain Griffith was not joking,
+after all, and an angry man was he. He sat up in bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, piffle! Oh, fudge! Oh, pickled moonshine! If I&#8217;m Bransford what the
+deuce am I doing here? Why, you was both asleep! I could &#8217;a&#8217; shot your
+silly heads off and you&#8217;d &#8217;a&#8217; never woke up. You make me tired!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t mind him, Long. He&#8217;ll feel better when he takes a nap,&#8221; said Gurd
+joyfully. &#8220;He has poor spells like this and he misses his nurse. We
+always make allowances for him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long&#8217;s indignation at last overcame his politeness, and in his wrath
+he attacked friend and foe indiscriminately.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean to tell me you two puling infants are out hunting down a
+man you never saw? Don&#8217;t the men at the other side know him either? By
+jinks, you hike out o&#8217; this after breakfast and send for some grown-up
+men. I want part of that reward&mdash;and I&#8217;m going to have it! Look here!&#8221;
+He turned blackly to Gurdon. &#8220;Are you sure that Bransford, or any one
+else, came in here at all yesterday, or did you dream it? Or was it all
+a damfool kid joke? Listen <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>here! I worked like a dog yesterday. If you
+had me stand guard three hours, tired as I was, for nothing, there&#8217;s
+going to be more to it. What kind of a sack-and-snipe trick is this,
+anyway? You just come one at a time and I&#8217;ll lick the stuffin&#8217; out o&#8217;
+both o&#8217; you! I ain&#8217;t feelin&#8217; like any schoolboy pranks just now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no; that part&#8217;s all straight. Bransford&#8217;s in there, all right,&#8221;
+protested Gurdon. &#8220;If you hadn&#8217;t been working in the tunnel you&#8217;d have
+seen him when he went by. Here&#8217;s the note he left. And his horse and
+saddle are up at the spring. We left the horse there because he was lame
+and about all in. Bransford can&#8217;t get away on him. Rex is just
+excited&mdash;that&#8217;s all the matter with him. Hankering for glory! I told him
+last night not to make a driveling idiot of himself. Here, read this
+insolent note, will you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Long glowered at the note and flung it aside. &#8220;Anybody could &#8217;a&#8217; wrote
+that! How am I to know this thing ain&#8217;t some more of your funny streaks?
+You take these horses to water and bring back Bransford&#8217;s horse and
+saddle, and then I&#8217;ll know what to believe. Be damn sure you bring them,
+too, or we&#8217;ll go to producing glory right here&mdash;great gobs and chunks of
+it! You Griffith! put down that gun or I&#8217;ll knock your fool head off!
+I&#8217;m takin&#8217; charge of this outfit now, and don&#8217;t you forget it! And I
+don&#8217;t want no maniac wanderin&#8217; round me with a gun. You go <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>to gatherin&#8217;
+up wood as fast as ever God&#8217;ll let you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, I was mistaken,&#8221; said the deposed leader, thoroughly convinced
+once more. &#8220;You do look like Bransford, you know.&#8221; He laid down his
+rifle obediently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look like your grandmother&#8217;s left hind foot!&#8221; sneered the outraged
+miner. &#8220;My eyes is brown and so&#8217;s Bransford&#8217;s. Outside <span style="white-space: nowrap;">o&#8217; that&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, but you do, a little,&#8221; said his ally, Steele. &#8220;I noticed it myself,
+last night. Not much&mdash;but still there&#8217;s a resemblance. Poor Cap Griffith
+just let his nerves and imagination run away with him&mdash;that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Long sniffed. &#8220;Funny I never heard of it before,&#8221; he said. He was
+somewhat mollified, nevertheless; and, while cooking breakfast, he
+received very graciously a stammered and half-hearted apology from young
+Mr. Griffith, now reduced to the ranks. &#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s all right, kid. But
+say&mdash;you be careful and don&#8217;t shoot your pardner when he comes back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gurdon brought back the sorrel horse and the saddle, thereby allaying
+Mr. Long&#8217;s wrathful mistrust that the whole affair was a practical joke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told you butter wouldn&#8217;t suit the works!&#8221; said Rex triumphantly, and
+watched the working of his test with a jealous eye.</p>
+
+<p>Long knew his Alice. &#8220;&#8216;But it was the best <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>butter,&#8217;&#8221; he said. He
+surveyed the sorrel horse; his eye brightened. &#8220;We&#8217;ll whack up that
+blood-money yet,&#8221; he announced confidently. &#8220;Now I&#8217;m going to walk over
+to the south side and get one of those fellows to ride sign round the
+mountain. You boys can sleep, turn and turn about, till I get back. Then
+I want Steele to go to Escondido and wire up to Arcadia that we&#8217;ve got
+our bear by the tail and want help to turn him loose, and tell Pappy
+Sanders to send me out some grub or I&#8217;ll skin him. Pappy&#8217;s putting up
+for the mine, you know. I&#8217;ll stay here and keep an eye on Griffith.&#8221; He
+gave that luckless warrior a jeering look, as one who has forgiven but
+not forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you ride one of our horses?&#8221; said Gurdon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Want to keep &#8217;em fresh. Then if Bransford gets out over the cliffs you
+can run him down like a mad dog,&#8221; said Tobe. &#8220;Besides, if I ride a fresh
+horse in here he&#8217;ll maybe shoot me to get the horse; and if he could
+catch you lads away from shelter maybe so he&#8217;d make a dash for it,
+a-shootin&#8217;. See here! If I was dodgin&#8217; in here like him&mdash;know what I&#8217;d
+do? I&#8217;d just shoot a few lines on general principles to draw you away
+from the gates. Then if you went in to see about it I&#8217;d either kill you
+if I had to, or slip out if you give me the chance. You just stay right
+here, whatever happens. Keep under shelter and keep <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>your horses right
+by you. We got him bottled up and we won&#8217;t draw the cork till the
+sheriff comes. I&#8217;ll tell &#8217;em to do the same way at the other end. I
+won&#8217;t take any gun with me and I&#8217;ll stick to the big main road. That way
+Bransford won&#8217;t feel no call to shoot me. Likely he&#8217;s &#8217;way up in the
+cliffs, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ride the sorrel horse then, why don&#8217;t you? He isn&#8217;t lame enough to hurt
+much, but he&#8217;s lame enough that Bransford won&#8217;t want him.&#8221; Thus Mr.
+Griffith, again dissimulating. Every detail of Mr. Long&#8217;s plan
+forestalled suspicion. That these measures were precisely calculated to
+disarm suspicion now occurred to Griffith&#8217;s stubborn mind. For he had a
+stubborn mind; the morning&#8217;s coffee had cleared it of cobwebs, and it
+clung more tenaciously than ever to the untenable and thrice-exploded
+theory that Long and Bransford were one and inseparable, now and
+forever.</p>
+
+<p>He meditated an ungenerous scheme for vindication and, to that end,
+wished Mr. Long to ride the sorrel horse. For Mr. Long, if he were
+indeed the murderer&mdash;as, of course, he was&mdash;would indubitably, upon some
+plausible pretext, attempt to pass the guards at the farther end of the
+trip, where was no clear-eyed Griffith on guard. What more plausible
+that a modification of the plan already rehearsed&mdash;for Long to tell the
+wardens that Griffith had sent him to telegraph to the sheriff? Let him
+once pass those warders on any <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>pretext! That would be final betrayal,
+for all his shrewdness. There was no possibility that Long and Bransford
+could complete their escape on that lame sorrel. He would not be allowed
+to get much of a start&mdash;just enough to betray himself. Then he,
+Griffith, would bring them back in triumph.</p>
+
+<p>It was a good scheme: all things considered, it reflected great credit
+upon Mr. Griffith&#8217;s imagination. As in Poe&#8217;s game of &#8220;odd or even,&#8221;
+where you must outguess your opponent and follow his thought, Mr. Rex
+Griffith had guessed correctly in every respect. Such, indeed, had been
+Mr. Long&#8217;s plan. Only Rex did not guess quite often enough. Mr. Long had
+guessed just one layer deeper&mdash;namely, that Mr. Griffith would follow
+his thought correctly and also follow him. Therefore Mr. Long switched
+again. It was a bully game&mdash;better than poker. Mr. Long enjoyed it very
+much.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Rex expected, Tobe allowed himself to be overpersuaded and rode
+the sorrel horse. He renamed the sorrel horse Goldie, on the spot,
+saddled him awkwardly, mounted in like manner, and rode into the shadowy
+depths of Double Mountain.</p>
+
+<p>Once he was out of sight Mr. Griffith followed, despite the angry
+protest of Mr. Steele&mdash;alleging falsely that he was going to try for a
+deer.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>Tobe rode slowly up the crooked and brush-lined ca&ntilde;on. Behind him,
+cautiously hidden, came Griffith, the hawk-eyed avenger&mdash;waiting at each
+bend until Mr. Long had passed the next one, for closer observation of
+how Mr. Long bore himself in solitude.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long bore himself most disappointingly. He rode slowly and
+awkwardly, scanning with anxious care the hillsides before him. Not once
+did he look back lest he should detect Mr. Griffith. Near the summit the
+Goldie horse shied and jumped. It was only one little jump, whereunto
+Goldie had been privately instigated by Mr. Long&#8217;s thumb&mdash;&#8220;thumbing&#8221; a
+horse, as done by one conversant with equine anatomy, produces
+surprising results!&mdash;but it caught Mr. Long unawares and tumbled him
+ignominiously in the dust.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long sat in the sand and rubbed his shoulder: Goldie turned and
+looked down at him in unqualified astonishment. Mr. Long then cursed Mr.
+Bransford&#8217;s sorrel horse; he cursed Mr. Bransford for bringing the
+sorrel horse; he cursed himself for riding the sorrel horse; he cursed
+Mr. Griffith, with one last, longest, heart-felt, crackling,
+hair-raising, comprehensive and masterly curse, for having persuaded him
+to ride the sorrel horse. Then he tied the sorrel horse to a bush and
+hobbled on afoot, saying it all over backward.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>Poor Griffith experienced the most intense mortification&mdash;except one&mdash;of
+his life. This was conclusive. Bransford was reputed the best rider in
+Rainbow. This was Long. He was convinced, positively, finally and
+irrevocably. He did not even follow Mr. Long to the other side of Double
+Mountain, but turned back to camp, keeping a sharp eye out for traces of
+the real Bransford; to no effect. It was only by chance&mdash;a real
+chance&mdash;that, clambering on the gatepost cliffs to examine a curious
+whorl of gneiss, he happened to see Mr. Long as he returned. Mr. Long
+came afoot, leading the sorrel horse. Just before he came within sight
+of camp he led the horse up beside a boulder, climbed clumsily into the
+saddle, clutched the saddle-horn, and so rode into camp. The act was so
+natural a one that Griffith, already convinced, was convinced again&mdash;the
+more so because Long preserved a discreet silence as to the misadventure
+with the sorrel horse.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long reported profanely that the men on the other side had also been
+disposed to arrest him, and had been dissuaded with difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I guess I must look some like Bransford, though I would never &#8217;a&#8217;
+guessed it. Reckon nobody knows what they really look like. Chances are
+a feller wouldn&#8217;t know himself if he met him in the road. That squares
+you, kid. No hard feelings?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Not a bit. I certainly thought you were Bransford, at first,&#8221; said
+Griffith.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, the black-eyed one&mdash;Stone&mdash;he&#8217;s coming round on the west side
+now, cutting sign. You be all ready to start for Escondido as soon as he
+gets here, Gurd. Say, you don&#8217;t want to wait for the sheriff if he&#8217;s up
+on Rainbow. You wire a lot of your friends to come on the train at nine
+o&#8217;clock to-night. Sheriff can come when he gets back. There ain&#8217;t but a
+few horses at Escondido. You get Pappy Sanders to send your gang out in
+a wagon&mdash;such as can&#8217;t find horses.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Better take in both of ours, Gurd,&#8221; said Griffith. He knew Long was all
+right, as has been said, but he was also newly persuaded of his own
+fallibility. He had been mistaken about Long being Bransford; therefore
+he might be mistaken about Long being Long. In this spirit of humility
+he made the suggestion recorded above, and was grieved that Long
+indorsed it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I want you to do two errands for me, kid. You give this to Pappy
+Sanders&mdash;the storekeeper, you know&#8221;&mdash;here he produced the little
+eohippus from his pocket&mdash;&#8220;and tell him to send it to a jeweler for me
+and get a hole bored in it so it&#8217;ll balance. Want to use it for a
+watch-charm when I get a watch. And if we pull off this Bransford affair
+I&#8217;ll have me a watch. Now don&#8217;t you lose that! It&#8217;s turquoise&mdash;worth a
+heap o&#8217; money. Besides, he&#8217;s a lucky little horse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll put him in my pocketbook,&#8221; said Gurdon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Better give him to Pappy first off, else you&#8217;re liable to forget about
+him, he&#8217;s so small. Then you tell Pappy to send me out some grub. I
+won&#8217;t make out no bill. He&#8217;s grubstakin&#8217; the mine; he&#8217;ll know what to
+send. You just tell him I&#8217;m about out of patience. Tell him I want about
+everything there is, and want it quick; and a jar for sour dough&mdash;I
+broke mine. And get some newspapers.&#8221; He hesitated perceptibly. &#8220;See
+here, boys, I hate to mention this; but old Pappy, him and this Jeff
+Bransford is purty good friends. I reckon Pappy won&#8217;t much like it to
+furnish grub for you while you&#8217;re puttin&#8217; the kibosh on Jeff. You better
+get some of your own. You see how it is, don&#8217;t you? &#8217;Tain&#8217;t like it was
+my chuck.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stone came while they saddled. He spoke apart with Griffith as to Mr.
+Long, and a certain favor he bore to the escaped bank-robber; but
+Griffith, admitting his own self-deception in that line, outlined the
+history of the past unhappy night. Stone, who had suffered only a slight
+misgiving, was fully satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>As Steele started for the railroad Mr. Stone set out to complete the
+circuit of Double Mountain, in the which he found no runaway tracks. And
+Griffith and Long, sleeping alternately&mdash;especially Griffith&mdash;kept
+faithful ward over the gloomy gate of Double Mountain.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3>
+
+<h2>FLIGHT</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p>&#8220;Keep away from that wheelbarrow&mdash;what the hell do you know
+about machinery?&#8221;&mdash;<span class="smcap">Elbert Hubbard.</span><a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">J</span>ust after dark a horseman with a led horse came jogging round the
+mountain on the trail from Escondido. On the led horse was a pack bound
+rather slouchily, not to a packsaddle, but to an old riding saddle. The
+horses were unwilling to enter the circle of firelight, so the rider
+drew rein just beyond&mdash;a slender and boyish rider, with a flopping
+wide-brimmed hat too large for him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, look who&#8217;s here!&#8221; said Tobe, as one who greets an unexpected
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Tobe! Here&#8217;s your food, grub, chuck and provisions! Got your
+outlaw yet? Them other fellows will be out along toward midnight.&#8221; He
+went on without waiting for an answer: &#8220;Put me on your payroll. Pappy
+said I was to go to work&mdash;and if you was going to quit work to hunt down
+his friend you&#8217;d better quit for good. Lead <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>on to your little old mine.
+I don&#8217;t know where it is, even.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go up and unpack, Rex,&#8221; said Tobe; &#8220;but, of course, I&#8217;m not going
+to lose my part of that five thousand. Pappy&#8217;s foolish. He&#8217;s gettin&#8217;
+old. I&#8217;ll be back after a while and bring down the papers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Chatting of the trapped outlaw, the Ophir men climbed the zigzag to the
+mine. To Griffith, their voices dwindled to an indistinct murmur; a
+light glowed through the tent on the dump.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger pressed into Jeff&#8217;s hand something small and hard&mdash;the
+little eohippus. &#8220;Here&#8217;s your little old token. Pappy caught on at once
+and he sent me along to represent. Let&#8217;s get this pack off and get out
+of here. Do we have to go down the same trail again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no,&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;There&#8217;s a wood-trail leads round the mountain to
+the east. Who&#8217;re you? I don&#8217;t know you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Charley Gibson. Pappy knows me. He sent the little stone horse to vouch
+for me. I&#8217;m O. K. Time enough to explain when we&#8217;ve made a clean
+getaway.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re damn right there,&#8221; Jeff said. &#8220;That boy down yonder is nobody&#8217;s
+fool. I&#8217;ll light a candle in the tent and he&#8217;ll think I&#8217;m reading the
+newspapers. That&#8217;ll hold him a while.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll be going on down the trail,&#8221; said Gibson. &#8220;This way, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, that&#8217;s the one. All right. Go slow and don&#8217;t make any more noise
+than you can help.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff would have liked his own proper clothing and effects, but there was
+no time for resuscitation. Lighting the candle, he acquired &#8220;Alice in
+Wonderland&#8221; and thrust it into the bosom of his shirt. It had been years
+since last he read that admirable work; his way now led either to hiding
+or to jail&mdash;and, with Alice to share his fate, he felt equal to either
+fortune. He left the candle burning: the tent shone with a mellow glow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If he didn&#8217;t hear our horses coming down we&#8217;re a little bit of all
+right,&#8221; said Jeff, as he rejoined his rescuer on the level. &#8220;Even if he
+does, he may think we&#8217;ve gone to hobble &#8217;em&mdash;only he&#8217;d think we ought to
+water &#8217;em first. Now for the way of the transgressor, to Old Mexico.
+This little desert&#8217;ll be one busy place to-morrow!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They circled Double Mountain, making a wide d&eacute;tour to avoid rough going,
+and riding at a hard gallop until, behind and to their right, a red
+spark of fire came into view from behind a hitherto intervening
+shoulder, marking where Stone and Harlow held the southward pass.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff drew rein and bore off obliquely toward the road at an easy trot.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re there yet. So that&#8217;s all right!&#8221; he said. &#8220;They&#8217;ve just put on
+fresh wood. I saw it flame up just then.&#8221; He was in high feather. He
+began to laugh, or, more accurately, he resumed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>his laughter, for he
+had been too mirthful for much speech. &#8220;That poor devil Griffith will
+wait and fidget and stew! He&#8217;ll think I&#8217;m in the tent, reading the
+newspapers&mdash;reading about the Arcadian bank robbery, likely. He&#8217;ll wait
+a while, then he&#8217;ll yell at me. Then he&#8217;ll think we&#8217;ve gone to hobble
+the horses. He won&#8217;t want to leave the gap unguarded. He won&#8217;t know what
+to think. Finally he&#8217;ll go up to the mine and see that pack piled off
+any which way, and no saddles. Then he&#8217;ll know, but he won&#8217;t know what
+to do. He&#8217;ll think we&#8217;re for Old Mexico, but he won&#8217;t know it for sure.
+And it&#8217;s too dark to track us. Oh, my stars, but I bet he&#8217;ll be mad!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Which shows that we all make mistakes. Mr. Griffith, though young, was
+of firm character, as has been lightly intimated. He waited a reasonable
+time to allow for paper-reading, then he waited a little longer and
+shouted; but when there was no answer he knew at once precisely what had
+happened: he had not been a fool at all, whatever Steele and Bransford
+had assured him, and he was a bigger fool to have allowed himself to be
+persuaded that he had been. It is true that he didn&#8217;t know what was best
+to do, but he knew exactly what he was going to do&mdash;and did it promptly.
+Seriously annoyed, he spurred through Double Mountain, gathered up Stone
+and Harlow, and followed the southward road. Bransford had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>been on the
+way to Old Mexico&mdash;he was on that road still; Griffith put everything on
+the one bold cast. While the others saddled he threw fresh fuel on the
+fire, with a rankling memory of the candle in the deserted tent and
+Hannibal at Saint Jo. For the first time Griffith had the better of the
+long battle of wits. That armful of fuel slowed Jeff from gallop to
+trot, turned assured victory into a doubtful contest; when the fugitives
+regained the El Paso road Griffith&#8217;s vindictive little band was not five
+miles behind them.</p>
+
+<p>The night was lightly clouded&mdash;not so dark but that the pursuers
+noticed&mdash;or thought they noticed&mdash;the fresh tracks in the road when they
+came to them. They stopped, struck matches and confirmed their hopes:
+two shod horses going south at a smart gait; the dirt was torn up too
+much for travelers on their lawful occasions. From that moment Griffith
+urged the chase unmercifully; the fleeing couple, in fancied security,
+lost ground with every mile.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>&#8220;How on earth did you manage it? Didn&#8217;t they know you?&#8221; demanded Gibson
+as the pace slackened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It wasn&#8217;t me! It was Tobe Long! &#8216;You may not have lived much under the
+sea, and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster,&#8217;&#8221; quoted
+Jeff. Rocking in the saddle, he gave a mirthful r&eacute;sum&eacute; of his little
+evanishment. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>&#8220;And, oh, just think of that candle burning away in that
+quiet, empty tent! If I could have seen Griffith&#8217;s face!&#8221; he gloated.
+&#8220;Oh me! Oh my!... And he was so sure!... Say, Gibson, how do you come in
+this galley?&#8221; As a lone prospector his speech had been fittingly coarse;
+now, with every mile, he shook off the debasing influence of Mr. Long.
+&#8220;Kettle-washing makes black hands. Aren&#8217;t you afraid you&#8217;ll get into
+trouble?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nobody knows I&#8217;m kettle-washing, except Pappy Sanders and you,&#8221; said
+Gibson. &#8220;I was careful not to let your friend see me at the fire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll do you a good turn sometime,&#8221; said Jeff. He rode on in silence for
+a while and presently was lost in his own thoughts, leaning over with
+his hands folded on his horse&#8217;s neck. In a low and thoughtful voice he
+half repeated, half chanted to himself:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox6 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Illilleo Legardi, in the garden there alone,<br />
+There came to me no murmur of the fountain&#8217;s undertone<br />
+So mystically, magically mellow as your own!&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>Another silence. Then Jeff roused himself, with a start.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you what, Gibson, you&#8217;d better cut loose from me. So far as I
+can see, you are only a kid. You don&#8217;t want to get mixed up in a murder
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>scrape. This would go pretty hard with you if they can prove it on you.
+Of course, I&#8217;m awfully obliged to you and all that; but you&#8217;d better
+quit me while the quitting&#8217;s good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no; I&#8217;ll see you through,&#8221; said Gibson lightly. &#8220;Besides, I know
+you had nothing to do with the murder.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the hell you do!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;That&#8217;s kind of you, I&#8217;m sure. See
+here, who&#8217;d sold you your chips, anyway? How&#8217;d you get in this game?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got in this game, as you put it, because I jolly well wanted to,&#8221;
+replied Charley, with becoming spirit. &#8220;That ought to be reason enough
+for anything in this country. Nothing against it in the rules&mdash;and I
+don&#8217;t use the rules, anyhow. If you must have it all spelled out for
+you&mdash;I knew, or at least I&#8217;d heard, that your friends were away from
+Rainbow; so I judged you wouldn&#8217;t go up there. Then I knew those four
+amateur Sherlocks&mdash;they&#8217;re in my set in Arcadia. When two of the
+deerhunters, after starting at two <small>A.M.</small>, came back to Arcadia the same
+morning they left, looking all wise and important, and slipped off on
+the train to Escondido, saying nothing to any one&mdash;and when the other
+two didn&#8217;t come home at all&mdash;I began to think; went down to the depot,
+found they had gone to Escondido, and I came on the next train. I found
+out Pappy was your friend; and when he got your little hurry-up call <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>I
+volunteered my services, seeing Pappy was too old and not footloose
+anyhow&mdash;with a wife and property. That&#8217;s the how of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, that&#8217;s all right; but what makes you think I&#8217;m innocent?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know Mr. White, you see. And Mr. White seems to think that at about
+the time the bank was robbed you were&mdash;in a garden!&#8221; Charley&#8217;s voice was
+edged with faint mockery.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; said Jeff, startled. &#8220;Who in hell is Mr. White?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. White&mdash;in hell&mdash;is the devil!&#8221; said Charley.</p>
+
+<p>At this unexpected disclosure Jeff lashed his horse to a gallop&mdash;his
+spurs, you remember, being certain feet under the Ophir dump&mdash;and strove
+to bring his thoughts to bear upon this new situation. He slowed down
+and Charley drew up beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You seem to have stayed quite a while&mdash;in a garden,&#8221; suggested Charley.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble yet,&#8221; said Jeff.
+&#8220;You&#8217;ll never live to be grayheaded.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Charley was not to be daunted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, Jeff, she&#8217;s pretty easy to get acquainted with, what? And those
+eyes of hers&mdash;a little on the see-you-later style, aren&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff turned in his saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now you look here, Mr. Charley Gibson! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>I&#8217;m under obligations to you,
+and so on&mdash;but I&#8217;ve heard all of that kind of talk that&#8217;s good&mdash;<i>sabe</i>?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I know her,&#8221; persisted Charley. &#8220;Know her by heart&mdash;know her like a
+book. She made a fool of me, too. She drives &#8217;em single, double, tandem,
+random and four abreast!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You little beast!&#8221; Jeff launched his horse at the traducer, but Gibson
+spurred aside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop now, Jeffy! Easy does it! I&#8217;ve got a gun!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shut your damn head then! Gun or no gun, don&#8217;t you take that girl&#8217;s
+name in your mouth again, or&mdash;&mdash;Hark! What&#8217;s that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was a clatter far behind&mdash;a ringing of swift hoofs on hard ground.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By George, they&#8217;re coming! Griffith will be a man yet!&#8221; said Jeff
+approvingly. &#8220;Come on, kid; we&#8217;ve got to burn the breeze! I suppose that
+talk of yours is only your damn fool idea of fun, but I don&#8217;t like it.
+Cut it out, now, and ride like a drunk Indian!&#8221; He laughed loud and
+long. &#8220;Think o&#8217; that candle, will you?&mdash;burning away with a clear,
+bright, steady flame, and nobody within ten miles of it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They raced side by side; but Gibson, heedless of their perilous
+situation, or perhaps taking advantage of it, took a malicious delight
+in goading Jeff to madness; and he refused either to be silent or to
+talk about candles, notwithstanding Jeff&#8217;s preference for that topic.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not joking! I&#8217;m telling you for your own good.&#8221; Here the tormentor
+prudently fell back half a length and raised his voice so as to be heard
+above the flying feet. &#8220;Hasn&#8217;t she gone back to New York, I&#8217;d like to
+know, and left you to get out of it the best way you can? She could &#8217;a&#8217;
+stayed if she&#8217;d wanted to. Don&#8217;t tell me! Haven&#8217;t I seen how she bosses
+her mother round? No, sir! She&#8217;s willing to let you hang to save herself
+a little slander&mdash;or, more likely, a little talk!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff whirled his horse to his haunches, but once more Gibson was too
+quick for him. Gibson&#8217;s horse was naturally the nimbler of the two, even
+without the advantage of spurs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a lie! She was going to tell&mdash;she was bound to tell; I made her
+keep silent. After I jumped out she couldn&#8217;t well say anything. That&#8217;s
+why I jumped. Was I going to make her a target for such vile tongues as
+yours&mdash;for me? Oh! You ought to be shot out of a red-hot cannon, through
+a barbed-wire fence, into hell! You lie, you coward, you know you lie!
+I&#8217;ll cram it down your throat if you&#8217;ll get off and throw that gun
+down!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yah! It&#8217;s likely I&#8217;ll put the gun down!&#8221; scoffed Gibson. &#8220;Ride on, you
+fool! Do you want to hang? Ride on and keep ahead! Remember, I&#8217;ve got
+the gun!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hanging&#8217;s not so bad,&#8221; snarled Jeff. &#8220;I&#8217;d <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>rather be hung decently than
+be such a thing as you! Oh, if I just had a gun!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sound of pursuit was clearer now; and, of course, the pursuers could
+hear the pursued as well and fought for every inch.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff rode on, furious at his helplessness. For several miles his
+tormentor raced behind in silence, fearing, if he persisted longer in
+his evil course, that Jeff would actually stop and give himself up. They
+gained now on their pursuers, who had pressed their horses overhard to
+make up the five-mile handicap.</p>
+
+<p>As they came to a patch of sandy ground they eased the pace somewhat.
+Charley drew a little closer to Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now don&#8217;t get mad. I had no idea you thought so much of the girl&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shut up, will you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&mdash;&mdash;or I wouldn&#8217;t have deviled you so. I&#8217;ll quit. How was I to know
+you&#8217;d stop to fight for her with the very rope round your neck? It&#8217;s a
+pity she&#8217;ll never know about it.... You can&#8217;t have seen her more than
+two or three times&mdash;and Heaven only knows where that was! On that
+camping trip, I reckon. What kind of a girl is she, anyhow, to hold
+clandestine interviews with a stranger?... She&#8217;ll write to you by and
+by&mdash;a little scented note, with a little stilted, meaningless word of
+thanks. No, she won&#8217;t. It&#8217;ll be gushy: &#8216;Oh, my hero! How can I ever
+repay <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>you?&#8217; She won&#8217;t let you out of her clutches&mdash;anybody, so long as
+it&#8217;s a man! Here! None o&#8217; that!... Go on, now, if you want to live!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Who the hell wants to live?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A noose flew back from the darkness. Jeff&#8217;s horse darted aside and
+Gibson was jerked sprawling to the sand at a rope&#8217;s end&mdash;hat flew one
+way, gun another. Jeff ran to the six-shooter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s got the gun now?&#8221; he jeered, as he loosened the rope. &#8220;I only
+wish we had two of &#8217;em!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You harebrained idiot!&#8221; Charley grabbed up his hat and spit sand from
+his mouth. &#8220;Get your horse and ride, you unthinkable donkey!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pleasure first, business afterward!&#8221; Jeff unbuckled Gibson&#8217;s gunbelt
+and transferred it to his own waist, jerking Gibson to his feet in the
+violent process. &#8220;Now, you little blackguard, you either take back all
+that or you&#8217;ll get the lickin&#8217; o&#8217; your life! You&#8217;re too small; but all
+the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">same&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;ll take it back, you big bully&mdash;all I said and a lot more I only
+thought!&#8221; said Charley spitefully. He was almost crying with rage as he
+limped to his horse. &#8220;She&#8217;s an angel on earth! Sure she is! Ride, you
+maniac&mdash;ride! Oh, you ought to be hung! I hope you do hang&mdash;you
+miserable ruffian!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The following hoofs no longer rang sharply; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>they took on a muffled
+beat&mdash;they were in the sand&#8217;s edge not a mile behind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ride ahead, you! I&#8217;ve got the gun, remember!&#8221; observed Jeff
+significantly; &#8220;but if you slur that girl again I&#8217;ll not shoot you&mdash;I&#8217;ll
+naturally wear you out with this belt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3>
+
+<h2>GOOD-BY</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot2"><p>&#8220;They have ridden the low moon out of the sky; their hoofs drum
+up the dawn.&#8221;&mdash;<i>Two Strong Men</i>, <span class="smcap">Kipling.</span></p></div>
+
+<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>&#8217;m not speaking of her and I&#8217;m not going to,&#8221; protested Gibson, in a
+changed tone. &#8220;I&#8217;ll promise! My horse is failing, Jeff. I rode hard and
+fast from Escondido. Your horse carried nothing much but a saddle&mdash;that
+pack was mostly bluff, you know. And those fellows&#8217; horses have come
+twenty miles less than either of ours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe we&#8217;re going to make it, Jeff!&#8221; There was a forlorn
+little quaver in Charley&#8217;s voice.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff grunted. &#8220;Uh! Maybe not. Griffith&#8217;ll be real pleased.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gibson rode closer. &#8220;Can&#8217;t we turn off the road and hide?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Till daylight,&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Then they&#8217;ll get us. No way out of this
+desert except across the edges somewhere. You go if you want to. They
+won&#8217;t bother to hunt for you, maybe, if they get me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;No. It&#8217;s my fault.... I&#8217;ll see it out.... I&#8217;m sorry, Jeff&mdash;but it was
+so funny!&#8221; Here, rather to Jeff&#8217;s surprise, Charley&#8217;s dejection gave
+place to laughter.</p>
+
+<p>They rode up a sandy slope where mesquites grew black along the road.
+Blown sand had lodged to hummocks in their thick and matted growth; the
+road was a sunken way.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How far is it from here, Jeff?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ten miles&mdash;maybe only eight&mdash;to the river. We&#8217;re in Texas now&mdash;have
+been for an hour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Think we can make it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Quien sabe?</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gibson drew rein. &#8220;You go on. Your horse isn&#8217;t so tired.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I guess not!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Come on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sound of pursuit came clear through the quiet night. There was
+silence for a little.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;ll you do, Jeff? Fight?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Hurt those boys? I couldn&#8217;t fight, the way it
+is&mdash;hardly, even if &#8217;twas the sheriff. I&#8217;ll just hang, I reckon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They reached the top of the little slope and turned down the other side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t altogether like this hanging idea,&#8221; said Gibson. &#8220;I got you
+into this, Jeff; so I&#8217;ll just get you out again&mdash;like the man in our
+town who was so wondrous wise. Going to use bramble bushes, too.&#8221;
+Volatile Gibson, in the stress of danger, had forgotten his wrath. He
+was light-hearted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>and happy, frivolously gay. &#8220;Give me your rope and
+your gun, Jeff. Quick now! No, I won&#8217;t mention your girl&mdash;not once!
+Hurry!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What you going to do?&#8221; asked Jeff, thoroughly mystified.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ever read the &#8216;Fool&#8217;s Errand&#8217;?&#8221; Charley chuckled. &#8220;No? Well, I have.
+Jump off and tie the end of your rope to that mesquite root. Quick!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He sprang down, snatched one end of the coil from Jeff&#8217;s hand and
+stretched it taut across the road, a foot from the ground. &#8220;Now your
+gun! Quick!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He snatched the gun, tied an end of his own saddle-rope to the stretched
+one, near the middle, plunged through the mesquite, over a hummock,
+paying out his rope as he went; wedged the gun firmly in the springing
+crotch of a mesquite tree, cocked it and tied the loose end of the
+trailing rope to the trigger. He ran back and sprang on his horse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now ride! It&#8217;s our last chance!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Kid, you&#8217;re a wonder!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;You&#8217;ll do to take along! They&#8217;ll
+lope up when they turn down that slope, hit that rope and pile in a
+heap!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And my rope will fire the gun off!&#8221; shrilled joyous Charley. &#8220;They&#8217;ll
+think it&#8217;s us&mdash;an ambuscade&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll take to the sand-hills,&#8221; Jeff broke in. &#8220;They&#8217;ll shoot into the
+bushes&mdash;they&#8217;ll think it&#8217;s us firing back, half the time.... They&#8217;ll
+scatter out and surround that lonesome, harmless motte and watch it till
+daylight. You bet they won&#8217;t go projecting round it any till daylight,
+either!&#8221; He looked up at the sky. &#8220;There&#8217;s the morning star. See it?
+&#8216;They have ridden the low moon out of the sky&#8217;&mdash;only there isn&#8217;t any
+moon&mdash;&#8216;their hoofs drum up the dawn.&#8217; Then they&#8217;ll find our tracks&mdash;and
+if I only could see the captain&#8217;s face! &#8216;Oh, my threshings, and the corn
+of my floor!&#8217;... And by then we&#8217;ll be in Mexico and asleep.... When
+Griffith finds that gun&mdash;oh, he&#8217;ll never show his head in Arcadia
+again!... Say, Charley, I hope none of &#8217;em get hurt when they strike
+your skip-rope.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh! It&#8217;s sandy! A heap you cared about me getting hurt when you
+dragged me from my horse!&#8221; said Gibson, rather snappishly. &#8220;You did hurt
+me, too. You nearly broke my neck and you cut my arms. And I got full of
+mesquite thorns when I set that gun. You don&#8217;t care! I&#8217;m only the man
+that came to save your neck. That&#8217;s the thanks I get! But the men that
+are trying to hang you&mdash;that&#8217;s different! You&#8217;d better go back. They
+might get hurt. You&#8217;ll be sorry sometime for the way you&#8217;ve treated me.
+There&mdash;it&#8217;s too late now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A shot rang behind them. There was a brief <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>silence. Then came a sharp
+fusillade, followed by scattering shots, dwindling to longer intervals.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff clung to his saddle-horn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess they ain&#8217;t hurt much,&#8221; he laughed. &#8220;Wish I could see &#8217;em when
+they find out! Slow down, kid. We&#8217;ve got lots of time now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We haven&#8217;t,&#8221; protested Charley. &#8220;Keep moving. It&#8217;s hard on the horses,
+but they&#8217;ll have a lifetime to rest in. They&#8217;ve telegraphed all over the
+country. You want to cross the river before daylight. It would be too
+bad for you to be caught now! Is there any ford, do you know?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not this time of year. River&#8217;s up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cross in a boat then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Guess we&#8217;d better. That horse of yours is pretty well used up. Don&#8217;t
+believe he could swim it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m not going over. I&#8217;ll get up to El Paso. I&#8217;ve got friends
+there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll get caught.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I won&#8217;t. I&#8217;m not going across, I tell you, and that&#8217;s all there is
+to it! I guess I&#8217;ll have something to say about things. I&#8217;m going to see
+you safely over, and that&#8217;s the last you&#8217;ll ever see of Charley Gibson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well!&#8221; Jeff reflected a little. &#8220;If you&#8217;re sure you won&#8217;t come
+along, I&#8217;d rather swim. My horse is strong yet. You see, it takes time
+to find a boat, and a boat means a house and dogs; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>and I&#8217;ll need my
+horse on the other side. How&#8217;ll you get to El Paso? Griffith&#8217;ll likely
+come down here about an hour by sun, &#8217;cross lots, a-cryin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll manage that,&#8221; said Gibson curtly enough. &#8220;You tend to your own
+affair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, all right!&#8221; Jeff rode ahead. He whistled; then he chanted his war
+song:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox5 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Said the little Eohippus:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8216;I&#8217;m going to be a horse!</span><br />
+And on my middle fingernails<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To run my earthly course!&#8217;</span><br />
+The Coryphodon was horrified;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Dinoceras was shocked;</span><br />
+And they chased young Eohippus,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But he skipped away and mocked.</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8220;Said they: &#8216;You always were as small<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mean as now we see,</span><br />
+And that&#8217;s conclusive evidence<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you&#8217;re always going to be.</span><br />
+What! Be a great, tall, handsome beast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With hoofs to gallop on?</span><br />
+Why! You&#8217;d have to change your nature!&#8217;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said the Loxolophodon.&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; Jeff turned his head. Charley was drooping visibly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop that foolish song!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff rode on in silence. This was a variable <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>person, Gibson. They were
+dropping down from the mesa into the valley of the Rio Grande.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff fell back beside Charley. &#8220;Tired, pardner?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff, I&#8217;m terribly tired! I&#8217;m not used to riding so far; and I&#8217;m
+sleepy&mdash;so sleepy!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, pardner; we&#8217;ll go slower. We&#8217;ll walk. Most there now.
+There&#8217;s the railroad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Keep on trotting. I can stand it. We must get to the river before
+daylight. Is it far?&#8221; Charley&#8217;s voice was weary. The broad sombrero
+drooped sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two miles to the river. El Paso&#8217;s seven or eight miles up the line.
+Brace up, old man! You&#8217;ve done fine and dandy! It&#8217;s just because the
+excitement is all over. Why should you go any farther, anyhow? There&#8217;s
+Ysleta up the track a bit. Follow the road up there and flag the first
+train. That&#8217;ll be best.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no. I&#8217;ll go all the way. I&#8217;ll make out.&#8221; Charley straightened
+himself with an effort.</p>
+
+<p>They crossed the Espee tracks and came to a lane between cultivated
+fields.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff! I&#8217;d like to say something. It won&#8217;t be breaking my promise
+really.... I didn&#8217;t mean what I said about&mdash;you know. I was only
+teasing. She&#8217;s a good enough girl, I guess&mdash;as girls go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff nodded. &#8220;I did not need to be told that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you left her in a cruel position when you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>jumped out of the
+window. She <i>can&#8217;t</i> tell now, so long as there&#8217;s any other way. What a
+foolish thing to do! If you&#8217;d just said at first that you were in the
+garden&mdash;&mdash;Oh, why didn&#8217;t you? But after the chances you took rather than
+to tell&mdash;why, Jeff, it would be terrible for her now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know that, too,&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;I suppose I was a fool; but I didn&#8217;t
+want her to get mixed up with it, and at the same time I cared less
+about hanging than any time I can remember. You see, I didn&#8217;t know till
+the last minute that the garden was going to cut any figure. And do you
+suppose I&#8217;d have that courthouseful of fools buzzing and whispering at
+her? Not much! Maybe it was foolish&mdash;but I&#8217;m glad I did it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad of it, too. If you had to be a fool,&#8221; said Charley, &#8220;I&#8217;m glad
+you were that kind of a fool. Are you still mad at me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Since Charley had recanted, and more especially since he had taken
+considerate thought for the girl&#8217;s compulsory silence, Jeff&#8217;s anger had
+evaporated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right, pardner.... Only you oughtn&#8217;t never to talk that way
+about a girl&mdash;even for a joke. That&#8217;s no good kind of a joke. Men, now,
+that&#8217;s different. See here, I&#8217;ll give you an order to a fellow in El
+Paso&mdash;Hibler&mdash;to pay for your horses and your gun. Here&#8217;s your belt,
+too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Charley shook his head impatiently. &#8220;I don&#8217;t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>want any money. Settle
+with Pappy for the horses. I won&#8217;t take this one back. Keep the belt.
+You may want it to beat me with sometime. What are you going to do,
+Jeff? Aren&#8217;t you ever coming back?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure I&#8217;ll come back&mdash;if only to see Griffith again. I&#8217;ll write to John
+Wesley Pringle&mdash;he&#8217;s my mainest side pardner&mdash;and sick him on to find
+out who robbed that bank&mdash;to prove it, rather. I just about almost
+nearly know who it was. Old Wes&#8217;ll straighten things out a-flying. I&#8217;ll
+be back in no time. I got to come back, Charley!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The river was in sight. The stars were fading; there was a flush in the
+east, a smell of dawn in the air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff, I wish you&#8217;d do something for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure, Charley. What is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wish you&#8217;d give me that little turquoise horse to remember you by.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff was silent for a little. He had framed out another plan for the
+little eohippus&mdash;namely, to give him to Miss Ellinor. He sighed; but he
+owed a good deal to Charley.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, Charley. Take good care of him&mdash;he&#8217;s a lucky little horse. I
+think a heap of him. Here we are!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The trees were distinct in the growing light. Jeff rode into the river;
+the muddy water swirled about his horse&#8217;s knees. He halted for parting;
+Gibson rode in beside him. Jeff took the precious <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>Alice book from his
+bosom, put it in the crown of his miner&#8217;s cap and jammed the cap tightly
+on his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Better change your mind, Charley. Come along. We&#8217;ll rout somebody out
+and order a dish of stewed eggs.</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox4 bbox2"><p>&#8220;There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.<br />
+The farther off from England the nearer &#8217;tis to France;<br />
+Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the dance.</span><br />
+Will you&mdash;won&#8217;t you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;No, I won&#8217;t! I told you once!&#8217;&#8221; snapped the beloved snail.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s the little eohippus horse then.&#8221; As Charley took it Jeff wrung
+his hand. &#8220;By George, I&#8217;ve got to change my notion of Arcadia people. If
+there&#8217;s many like you and Griffith, Arcadia&#8217;s going to crowd the map!...
+Well&mdash;so long!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It looks awful wide, Jeff!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;ll be all right&mdash;swim it myself if the horse plays out&mdash;and if I
+don&#8217;t have no cramps, as I might, of course, after this ride. Well&mdash;here
+goes nothin&#8217;! Take care of the little horse. I hope he brings you good
+luck!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well&mdash;so long, then!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Bransford rode into the muddy waters. They came to the horse&#8217;s breast,
+his neck; he plunged <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>in, sank, rose, and was borne away down the swift
+current, breasting the flood stoutly&mdash;and so went quartering across to
+the farther bank. It took a long time. It was quite light when the horse
+found footing on a sandbar half a mile below, rested, and splashed
+whitely through the shallows to the bank. Gibson swung his sombrero.
+Jeff waved his hand, rode to the fringing bushes, and was gone.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h3>
+
+<h2>THE LAND OF AFTERNOON</h2>
+
+<p class="center">&#8220;Dreaming once more love&#8217;s old sad dream divine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">L</span>os Ba&ntilde;os de Santa Eulalia Del Norte, otherwise known as Mud Springs, is
+a Mexican hamlet with one street of about the same length. Los Ba&ntilde;os and
+Co. lies in a loop of the Rio Grande, half of a long day from El Paso,
+in mere miles; otherwise a contemporary of Damascus and Arpad.</p>
+
+<p>Thither, mindful of the hot springs which supply the preliminaries of
+the name, Mr. Bransford made his way: mindful too, of sturdy old Don
+Francisco, a friend twice bound by ancient service given and returned.</p>
+
+<p>He climbed the slow long ridges to the high <i>mesa</i>: for the river bent
+here in a long ox-bow, where a bold promontory shouldered far out to bar
+the way: weary miles were to be saved by crossing the neck of this
+ox-bow, and the tough horse tired and lagged.</p>
+
+<p>The slow sun rose as he reached the Rim. It showed the wide expanse of
+desert behind him, flooded with trembling light; eastward, beyond the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>river, the buttressed and fantastic peaks of Fray Cristobal; their
+jutting shadows streaming into the gulf beyond, athwart the silvery
+ribbon of gleaming water, twining in mazy loops across the valley floor:
+it showed the black Rim at his feet, a frowning level wall of lava
+cliff, where the plain broke abruptly into the chasm beneath; the iron
+desolation of the steep sides, boulder-strewn, savage and forbidding:</p>
+
+<p class="center">&#8220;<i>A land of old up-heaven from the abyss.</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Long since, there had been a flourishing Mexican town in the valley. A
+wagonroad had painfully climbed a long ridge to the Rim, twisting,
+doubling, turning, clinging hazardously to the hillside, its outer edge
+a wall built up with stone, till it came to the shoulder under the
+tremendous barrier. From there it turned northward, paralleling the Rim
+in mile-long curve above a deep gorge; turning, in a last desperate
+climb, to a solitary gateway in the black wall, torn out by flood-waters
+through slow centuries. Smallpox had smitten the people; the treacherous
+river had devastated the fertile valley, and, subsiding, left the rich
+fields a waste of sand. The town was long deserted; the disused road was
+gullied and torn by flood, the soil washed away, leaving a heaped and
+crumbled track of tangled stone. But it was the only practicable way as
+far as the sand-hills, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>and Jeff led his horse down the ruined path,
+with many a turning back and scrambling d&eacute;tour.</p>
+
+<p>The shadows of the eastern hills drew back before him as he reached the
+sand-dunes. When he rode through the silent streets of what had been
+Alamocita, the sun peered over Fray Cristobal, gilding the crumbling
+walls, where love and laughter had made music, where youth and hope and
+happiness had been.... Silent now and deserted, given over to lizard and
+bat and owl, the smiling gardens choked with sand and grass, springing
+with <i>mesquite</i> and <i>tornillo</i>; a few fruit trees, gnarled and tangled,
+drooping for days departed, when young mothers sang low lullaby beneath
+their branches.... Passed away and forgotten&mdash;hopes and fears, tears and
+smiles, birth and death, joy and sorrow, hatred and sin and shame,
+falsehood and truth and courage and love. The sun shone cheerfully on
+these gray ruins&mdash;as it has shone on a thousand such, and will shine.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff turned down the river, past the broken <i>acequias</i>, to where a
+massive spur of basaltic rock had turned the fury of the floods and
+spared a few fields. In this sheltered cove dwelt Don Francisco Escobar
+in true pastoral and patriarchal manner; his stalwart sons and
+daughters, with their sons and daughters in turn, in clustering <i>adobes</i>
+around him: for neighbors, the allied family of Gonzales y Ortega.</p>
+
+<p>A cheerful settlement, this of Los Ba&ntilde;os, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>nestling at the foot of the
+friendly rampart, sheltered alike from flood and wind. South and west
+the close black Rim walled the horizon, the fantasy of Fray Cristobal
+closed in the narrow east: but northward, beyond the low sand-hills and
+the blue heat-haze, the high peaks of Organ, Guadalupe and Rainbow swam
+across the sleepy air, far and soft and dim.</p>
+
+<p>In their fields the <i>gente</i> of Gonzales y Ortega and of Escobar raised
+ample crops of alfalfa, wheat, corn, <i>frijoles</i> and <i>chili</i>, with
+orchard, vineyard and garden. Their cows, sheep and goats grazed the
+foothills between river and Rim, watched by the young men or boys,
+penned nightly in the great corrals in the old Spanish fashion; as if
+the Moor still swooped and forayed. Their horses roamed the hills at
+will, only a few being kept in the alfalfa pasture. They ground their
+own grain, tanned their cow-hides at home. Mattress and pillow were wool
+of their raising, their blankets and cloth their own weave. There were
+granaries, a wine-press, a forge, a cumbrous stone mill, a great <i>adobe</i>
+oven like a monstrous bee-hive.</p>
+
+<p>Once a year their oxen drew the great high-sided wagons up the sandy
+road to El Paso, and returned with the year&#8217;s marketing&mdash;salt, axes,
+iron and steel, powder and lead, bolts of white domestic or <i>manta</i> for
+sheets and shirtings, matches, tea, coffee, tobacco and sugar. Perhaps,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>if the saints had been kind, there were a few ribbons, trinkets or
+brightly colored prints of Joseph and Virgin and Child, St. John the
+Beloved, The Annunciation, The Children and Christ; perhaps an American
+rifle or a plow. But, for the most part, they held not with innovations;
+plowed, sowed and reaped as their fathers did, threshing with oxen or
+goats.</p>
+
+<p>The women sewed by hand, cooked on fireplaces; or, better still, in the
+open air under the trees, with few and simple utensils. The family ate
+from whitest and cleanest of sheepskins spread on the floor. But, the
+walls were snowy with whitewash, the earthen floors smooth and clean,
+the coarse linen fresh and white. The scant furniture of the rooms&mdash;a
+pine bed, a chair or two, a mirror, a brass candlestick (with home-made
+candles), a cheap print on the wall, a great chest for clothes, blankets
+and simple treasures, the bright fire in the cozy fireplace&mdash;all
+combined to give an indescribable air of cheerfulness, of homely comfort
+and of rest. This quiet corner, where people still lived as simply as
+when Abraham went up from Ur of the Chaldees, in the spring-time of the
+world, held, for seeing eyes, an incommunicable charm.</p>
+
+<p>When Jeff came at last to Casa Escobar, the cattle were already on the
+hills, the pigs and chickens far afield. Don Francisco, white-haired,
+erect, welcomed him eagerly, indeed, but with stately courtesy.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Is it thou indeed, my son? Now, my old eyes are gladdened this day.
+Enter, then, <i>amigo mio</i>, thrice-welcome&mdash;the house is thine in very
+truth. Nay, the young men shall care for thy horse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He raised his voice. Three tall sons, Abran, Zenobio, Donociano, came at
+the summons, gave Bransford grave greeting, and stood to await their
+father&#8217;s commands. Fathers of families themselves, they presumed not to
+sit unbidden, to join in the conversation, or to loiter.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast was served presently, in high state, on the table reserved for
+honored guests. Savory venison, chili, fish, eggs, <i>tortillas</i>, <i>etole</i>,
+<i>enchiladas</i>, cream and steaming coffee&mdash;such was the fare. Don
+Francisco sat gravely by to bear him company, while a silently hovering
+damsel anticipated every need.</p>
+
+<p>Thence, when his host could urge no more upon him, to the deep shading
+cottonwoods. Wine was brought and the &#8220;makings&#8221; of
+cigarettes&mdash;corn-husks, handcut; a great jar of tobacco; and a brazier
+of mesquite embers. At a little distance women washed, wove or sewed;
+the young men made buckskin, fashioned quirts, whips, ropes,
+bridle-reins, tie-straps, hobbles, pack-sacks and <i>chaparejos</i> of
+raw-hide; made cinches of horse-hair; wrought ox-yokes, plow-beams and
+other things needful for their simple husbandry.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>Meanwhile, Don Francisco entertained his guest with grave and leisurely
+recital of the year&#8217;s annals. Mateo, son of Sebastian, had slain a great
+bear in the Pass of All the Winds; Alicia, daughter of their eldest, was
+wed with young Roman de la O, of Ca&ntilde;ada Nogales, to the much healing of
+feud and ancient hatred; Diego, son of Eusebio, was proving a bold and
+fearless rider of wild horses, with reason, as behooved his father&#8217;s
+son; he had carried away the <i>gallo</i> at the <i>Fiesta de San Juan</i>, with
+the fleet dun colt &#8220;creased&#8221; from the wild bunch at Quemado; the herds
+had grown, the crops prospered, all sorrow passed them by, through the
+intercession of the blessed saints.</p>
+
+<p>The year&#8217;s trophies were brought. He fingered with simple pride the
+great pelt of the silver-tip. Antlers there were and lion-skins,
+gleaming prisms of quartz, flint arrowheads and agates brought in by the
+shepherds, the costly Navajo blanket won by the fleet-limbed dun at
+Ca&ntilde;ada races.</p>
+
+<p>Hither came presently another visitor&mdash;Florentino, breaker of wild
+horses, despite his fifty years; wizened and withered and small, merry
+and cheerful, singer of forgotten folk-songs; chanting, even as he came,
+the song of Macario Romero&mdash;Macario, riding joyous and light-hearted,
+spite of warning, omen and sign, love-lured to doom and death.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;&#8216;Concedame una licencia<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Voy &aacute; ir &aacute; ver &aacute; me Chata.&#8217;</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8220;Dice Macario Romero,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Parando en los estribos:</span><br />
+&#8216;Madre, pues, esto voy &aacute; ver,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Si todos son mis amigos!&#8217;&#8221;</span></p></div>
+
+<p>And so, listening, weary and outworn, Jeff fell asleep.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Observe now, how Nature insists upon averages. Mr. Jeff Bransford was,
+as has been seen, an energetic man; but outraged nerves will have their
+revenge. After making proper amends to his damaged eye, Jeff&#8217;s remnant
+of energy kept up long enough to dispatch young Tomas Escobar y Mendoza
+to El Paso with a message to Hibler: which message enjoined Hibler at
+once to carry tidings to John Wesley Pringle, somewhere in Chihuahua,
+asking him kindly to set right what Arcadian times were out of joint, as
+he, Jeff, felt the climate of Old Mexico more favorable for his throat
+trouble than that of New Mexico; with a postscript asking Hibler for
+money by bearer. And young Tomas was instructed to buy, at Juarez, a
+complete outfit of clothing for Jeff, including a gun.</p>
+
+<p>This done, the reaction set in&mdash;aided, perhaps, by the enervating
+lassitude of the hot baths and the sleepy atmosphere of that forgotten
+village. Jeff spent the better part of a week asleep, or half <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>awake at
+best. He had pleasant dreams, too. One&mdash;perhaps the best dream of
+all&mdash;was that on their wedding trip they should follow again the devious
+line of his flight from Arcadia. That would need a prairie schooner&mdash;no,
+a prairie steamboat&mdash;a prairie yacht! He would tell her all the hideous
+details&mdash;show her the mine, the camp of the besiegers, the ambuscade on
+the road. And if he could have Ellinor meet Griffith and Gibson for a
+crowning touch!</p>
+
+<p>After the strenuous violence of hand-strokes, here was a drowsy and
+peaceful time. The wine of that land was good, the shade pleasant, the
+Alician philosophy more delightful than of yore; he had all the
+accessories, but one, of an earthly paradise.</p>
+
+<p>Man is ungrateful. Jeff was a man; neglectful of present bounties, his
+dreaming thoughts were all of the absent accessory and of a time when
+that absence should be no more, nor paradise be empty.</p>
+
+<p>Life, like the Gryphon&#8217;s classical master, had taught him Laughter and
+Grief. He turned now the forgotten pages of the book of his years.
+Enough black pages were there; as you will know well, having yourself
+searched old records before now, with tears. He cast up that long
+account&mdash;the wasted lendings, the outlawed debts, the dishonored
+promises, the talents of his stewardship, unprofitable and brought to
+naught; set down&mdash;how gladly!&mdash;the items on the credit side. So men have
+set the good upon one side and the evil on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>the other since Crusoe&#8217;s
+day, and before; against the time when the Great Accountant, Whose
+values are not ours, shall strike a final balance.</p>
+
+<p>Take that book at your elbow&mdash;yes, either one; it doesn&#8217;t matter. Now
+turn to where the hero first discovers his frightful condition&mdash;long
+after it has become neighborhood property.... He bent his head in
+humility. He was not worthy of her!... Something like that? Those may
+not be the precise words; but he groaned. He always groans. By-the-way,
+how this man-saying must amuse womankind! Yes, and they actually say it
+too&mdash;real, live, flesh-and-blood men. Who was it said life was a poor
+imitation of literature? Happily, either these people are insincere or
+they reconsider the matter&mdash;else what should we do for families?</p>
+
+<p>It is to be said that Jeff Bransford lacked this becoming delicacy. If
+he groaned he swore also; if he decided that Miss Ellinor Hoffman
+deserved a better man than he was, he also highly resolved that she
+should not have him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For, after all, you know,&#8221; said Jeff to Alice:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox9 bbox2"><p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure he&#8217;s nothing extra&mdash;a quiet man and plain,<br />
+And modest&mdash;though there isn&#8217;t much of which he could be vain.<br />
+And had I mind to chant his praise, this were the kindest line&mdash;<br />
+Somehow, she loves him dearly&mdash;this little love of mine!&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h3>
+
+<h2>TWENTIETH CENTURY</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p>&#8220;And there that hulking Prejudice<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sat all across the road.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="tiny" />
+
+<div class="centerbox10 bbox2"><p>&#8220;I took my hat, I took my coat,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My load I settled fair,</span><br />
+I approached that awful incubus<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With an absent-minded air&mdash;</span><br />
+And I walked directly through him<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if he wasn&#8217;t there!&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;">&mdash;<i>An Obstacle</i>:</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Charlotte Perkins Stetson.</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">J</span>ohnny Dines rode with a pleasant jingle down the shady street of Los
+Ba&ntilde;os de Santa Eulalia del Norte. His saddle was new, carven, wrought
+with silver; his bridle shone as the sun, his spurs as bright stars; he
+shed music from his feet. Jeff saw him turn to Casa Escobar: apple
+blossoms made a fragrant lane for him. He paused at Jeff&#8217;s tree.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Alto alli!</i>&#8221; said Johnny. The words, as sharp command, can be managed
+in two brisk syllables. The sound is then: &#8220;<i>Altwai!</i>&#8221; It is a crisp and
+startling sound, and the sense of it in our idiom is: &#8220;Hands up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p><p>Jeff had been taking a late breakfast <i>al fresco</i>; he made glad room on
+his bench.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Light, stranger, and look at your saddle! Pretty slick saddle, too.
+Guess your playmates must &#8217;a&#8217; went home talking to themselves last
+night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re going to kill a maverick for you at Arcadia and give a
+barbecue,&#8221; said Johnny. The cult of <i>nil admirari</i> reaches its highest
+pitch of prosperity in the cow-countries, and Johnny knew that it was
+for him to broach tidings unasked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that reminds me&mdash;how&#8217;s old Lars Porsena?&#8221; said Jeff, now free to
+question.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Him? He&#8217;s all right,&#8221; said Johnny casually. &#8220;Goin&#8217; to marry one or more
+of the nurses. They&#8217;re holdin&#8217; elimination contests now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, Johnny, when you go back, I wish you&#8217;d tell him I didn&#8217;t do it.
+Cross my heart and hope to die if I did!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, he knows it wasn&#8217;t you!&#8221; said Johnny.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Evidence was pretty strong&mdash;pretty strong! Who was it then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Lake himself&mdash;the old hog!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If Lake keeps on like this he&#8217;s going to have people down on him,&#8221; said
+Jeff. &#8220;Who did the holmesing&mdash;John Wesley?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, John Wesley! John Wesley!&#8221; said Dines scornfully. &#8220;You think the
+sun rises and sets in old John Wesley Pringle. Naw; he didn&#8217;t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>get back
+till it was all over. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little
+hatchet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Must have had it sharpened up!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Tell it to me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, there isn&#8217;t much to tell,&#8221; said Dines, suddenly modest. &#8220;Come to
+think of it, I had right considerable help. There was a young college
+chap&mdash;he first put it into my head that it wasn&#8217;t you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That would be the devil?&#8221; said Jeff, ignoring the insult.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just so. Name&#8217;s White&mdash;and so&#8217;s he: Billy White, S. M. and G. P.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t just remember them degrees,&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aw, keep still and you&#8217;ll hear more. They stand for Some Man and Good
+People. Well, as I was a-saying, Billy he seemed to think it wasn&#8217;t you.
+He stuck to it that Buttinski&mdash;that&#8217;s what he calls you&mdash;was in a garden
+just when the bank was robbed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Johnny contemplated the apple tree over his head. It was a wandering and
+sober glance, but a muscle twitched in his cheek, and he made no further
+explanation about the garden.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And then I remembered about Nigger Babe throwin&#8217; you off, and I began
+to think maybe you didn&#8217;t crack the safe after all. And there was some
+other things&mdash;little things&mdash;that made Billy and Jimmy Phillips&mdash;he was
+takin&#8217; cards in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>game too&mdash;made &#8217;em think maybe it was Lake; but it
+wasn&#8217;t no proof&mdash;not to say proof. And there&#8217;s where I come in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; said Jeff, as Johnny paused.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Simple enough, once you knowed how,&#8221; said Johnny modestly. &#8220;I&#8217;d been
+reading lots of them detective books&mdash;Sherlock Holmes and all them
+fellows. I got Billy to have his folks toll Lake&#8217;s sister away for the
+night, so she wouldn&#8217;t be scared. Then me and Billy and Jimmy Phillips
+and Monte, we broke in and blowed up Lake&#8217;s private safe. No trouble at
+all. Since the bank-robbin&#8217; every one had been tellin&#8217; round just how it
+ought to be done&mdash;crackin&#8217; safes. Funny how a fellow picks up little
+scraps of useful knowledge like that&mdash;things you&#8217;d think he&#8217;d remember
+might come in handy most any time&mdash;and then forgets all about &#8217;em. I
+wrote it down this time. Won&#8217;t forget it again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; said Jeff again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes. And there was the nice money&mdash;all the notes and all of the
+gold he could tote.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff&#8217;s eye wandered to the new saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I kept some of the yellow stuff as a souvenir&mdash;half a quart, or maybe a
+pint,&#8221; said Johnny. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want no reward for doin&#8217; a good deed....
+And that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lake is a long, ugly word,&#8221; said Jeff thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Well, what do you say?&#8221; prompted Johnny.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, thank you, thank you!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;You showed marvelous
+penetration&mdash;marvelous! But say, Johnny, if the money hadn&#8217;t been there
+wouldn&#8217;t that have been awkward?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Billy was pretty sure Lake was the man. And we figured he hadn&#8217;t
+bothered to move it&mdash;you being the goat that way. What made you be a
+goat, Jeff? That whole performance was the most idiotic break I ever
+knew a grown-up man to get off. I knew you were not strictly
+accountable, but why didn&#8217;t you say, &#8216;Judge, your Honor, sir, at the
+time the bank was being robbed I was in a garden with a young lady,
+talking about the hereafter, the here and the heretofore?&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On the contrary, what made your Billy think it was Lake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Johnny told him, in detail.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pretty good article of plain thinking, wasn&#8217;t it?&#8221; he concluded. &#8220;Yet
+he mightn&#8217;t have got started on the right track at all if he hadn&#8217;t had
+the straight tip about your bein&#8217; in a garden.&#8221; Johnny&#8217;s eye reverted to
+the apple tree. &#8220;Lake found your noseguard, you know, where you left it.
+I reckon maybe he saw you leave it there.&mdash;Say, Jeff! Lake&#8217;s grandfather
+must have been a white man. Anyhow, he&#8217;s got one decent drop of blood in
+him, from somewhere. For when we arrested him, he didn&#8217;t say a word
+about the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>garden. That was rather a good stunt, I think. Bully for
+Lake, just once!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Right you are! And, Mr. J. Dines, I&#8217;ve been thinking&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Jeff began.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny glanced at him anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&mdash;&mdash;and I&#8217;ve about come to the conclusion that we&#8217;re some narrow
+contracted and bigoted on Rainbow. We don&#8217;t know it all. We ain&#8217;t the
+only pebble. From what I&#8217;ve seen of these Arcadia men they seem to be
+pretty good stuff&mdash;and like as not it&#8217;s just the same way all along the
+beach. There&#8217;s your Mr. White, and Griffith, and Gibson&mdash;did I tell you
+about Gibson?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Johnny flashed a brilliant smile. His smiles always looked larger than
+they really were, because Johnny was a very small man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw Griffith and he gave me his version&mdash;several times. He&#8217;s real
+upset, Griffith.... Last time he told me, he leaned up against my neck
+and wept because there was only ten commandments!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t see Gibson, did you? You know him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nope. Pappy picked him up&mdash;or he picked Pappy up, rather. Hasn&#8217;t been
+seen since. I guess Gibby, old boy, has gone to the wild bunch. He
+wouldn&#8217;t suspect you of bein&#8217; innocent, and he dreamed he dwelt in
+marble walls, makin&#8217; shoes for the state. So he gets cold feet and he
+just naturally evaporates&mdash;good night!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;he said he was going to hike out, or something to that effect,&#8221;
+responded Jeff absently&mdash;the fact being that he was not thinking of
+Gibson, at all, but was pondering deeply upon Miss Ellinor Hoffman. Had
+she gone to New York according to the original plan? It did not seem
+probable. Her face stood out before him&mdash;bright, vivid, sparkling, as he
+had seen her last, in the court room of Arcadia. Good heavens! Was that
+only a week ago? Seven days? It seemed seven years!&mdash;No&mdash;she had not
+gone&mdash;at least, certainly not until she was sure that he, Jeff, had made
+good his escape. Then, perhaps, she might have gone. Perhaps her mother
+had made her go. Oh, well!&mdash;New York wasn&#8217;t far, as he had told her that
+first wonderful day on Rainbow Rim. What a marvelous day that was!</p>
+
+<p>Jeff was suddenly struck with the thought that he had never seen
+Ellinor&#8217;s mother. Great Scott! She had a father, too! How annoying! He
+meditated upon this unpleasant theme for a space. Then, as if groping in
+a dark room, he had suddenly turned on the light, his thought changed
+to&mdash;<i>What a girl! Ah, what a wonderful girl! Where is she?</i></p>
+
+<p>Looking up, Jeff became once more aware of Johnny Dines, leg curled
+around the horn of the new saddle, elbow on knee, cheek on hand,
+contemplating his poor friend with benevolent pity. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>And then Jeff knew
+that he could make no queries of Johnny Dines.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny spake soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are in North America. This is the Twentieth Century. Your name is
+Bransford. That round bright object is the sun. This direction is East.
+This way is called &#8216;up.&#8217; This is a stream of water that you see. It is
+called the Rio River Grand Big. We are advertised by our loving friends.
+I cannot sing the old songs. There&#8217;s a reason. Two of a kind flock
+together. Never trump your pardner&#8217;s ace. It&#8217;s a wise child that dreads
+the fire. Wake up! Come out of it! Change cars!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ought to kill you,&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Now giggle, you idiot, and make
+everybody hate you!&mdash;Wait till I say <i>Adios</i> to my old compadre and the
+rest of the Escobar <i>gente</i> and I&#8217;ll side you to El Paso.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not I. Little Johnny, he&#8217;ll make San Elizario ferry by noon and Helm&#8217;s
+by dark. Thought maybe so you&#8217;d be going along.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, no,&#8221; said Jeff uneasily. &#8220;I guess maybe I&#8217;ll go up to El Paso and
+june around a spell.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well&mdash;just as you say! Such bein&#8217; the case, I&#8217;ll be jogging.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Better wait till after dinner&mdash;I&#8217;ll square it with Don Francisco if ...
+anything&#8217;s missing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;that makes too long a jaunt for this afternoon. Me for San
+Elizario. So long!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>But beyond the first <i>acequia</i> he turned and rode back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Funny thing, Jeff! Remember me telling you about a girl I saw on
+Mayhill, the day Nigger Babe throwed you off? Now, what was that girl&#8217;s
+name?&mdash;I&#8217;ve forgotten again. Oh, yes!&mdash;Hoffman&mdash;Miss Ellinor Hoffman.
+Well&mdash;she&#8217;s at Arcadia still. The mother lady was all for going back to
+New York&mdash;but, no, sir! Girl says she&#8217;s twenty-one, likes Arcadia, and
+she&#8217;s going to stay a spell. Leastwise, so I hear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I <i>will</i> kill you!&#8221; said Jeff. &#8220;Here, wait till I saddle my nag and say
+good-by.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Beyond San Elizario, as they climbed the Pass of All the Winds, the two
+friends halted to breathe their horses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jeff,&#8221; said Johnny, rather soberly, &#8220;you can kick me after I say my
+little piece&mdash;I&#8217;ll think poorly of you if you don&#8217;t&mdash;but ain&#8217;t you
+making maybe a mistake? That girl, now&mdash;nice girl, and all that&mdash;but
+that girl&#8217;s got money, Jeff.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hate a fool worse than a knave, any day in the week,&#8221; said Jeff: &#8220;and
+the man that would let money keep him from the only girl&mdash;why, Johnny,
+he&#8217;s so much more of a fool than the other fellow is a <span style="white-space: nowrap;">scoundrel&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I get you!&#8221; said Johnny. &#8220;You mean that a submarine boat is better
+built for roping steers than a mogul engine is skilful at painting
+steeples, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>and you wonder if you can&#8217;t get a fresh horse somewhere and
+go on through to Arcadia to-night?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Something like that,&#8221; admitted Jeff. &#8220;Besides,&#8221; he added lightly,
+&#8220;while I&#8217;d like that girl just as well if I didn&#8217;t have a cent&mdash;why, as
+it happens, I&#8217;m pretty well fixed, myself. I&#8217;ve got money to throw at
+the little dicky-birds&mdash;all kinds of money. Got a fifty-one-per-cent
+interest in a copper mine over in Harqua Hala that&#8217;s been payin&#8217; me all
+the way from ten to five thousand clear per each and every year for the
+last seven years, besides what I pay a lad for lookout to keep anybody
+but himself from stealing any of it. He&#8217;s been buyin&#8217; real estate for me
+in Los Angeles lately.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Johnny&#8217;s jaw dropped in unaffected amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All this while? Before you and Leo hit Rainbow?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you workin&#8217; for forty a month and stealin&#8217; your own beef?&mdash;then
+saving up and buying your little old brand along with Beebe and Leo and
+old Wes&#8217;, joggin&#8217; along, workin&#8217; like a yaller dog with fleas?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not? Wasn&#8217;t I having a heap of fun? Where can I see any better time
+than I had here, or find better friends? Money&#8217;s no good by itself. I
+haven&#8217;t drawn a dollar from Arizona since I left. It was fun to make the
+mine go round <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>at first; but when it got so it&#8217;d work I looked for
+something else more amusing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should think you&#8217;d want to travel, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Travel?&#8221; echoed Jeff. &#8220;Travel? Why, you damn fool, I&#8217;m here now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will you stay here, if you marry her, Jeff?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So you&#8217;ve no objection to make, if I&#8217;ve got a few dollars? That squares
+everything all right, does it? Not a yeep of protest from you now? See
+here, you everlasting fool! I&#8217;m just the same man I was fifteen minutes
+ago when you thought I didn&#8217;t have any money. If I&#8217;m fit for her now, I
+was then. If I wasn&#8217;t good enough then, I&#8217;m not good enough now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I wasn&#8217;t thinking of her&mdash;I was thinking of&mdash;how it would look.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look? Who cares how it looks? Just a silly prejudice! &#8216;They say&mdash;what
+say they&mdash;let them say!&#8217; Johnny, maybe I was just stringin&#8217; you. If I
+was lying about the money&mdash;how about it then? Changed your mind again?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You wasn&#8217;t lyin&#8217;, was you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shan&#8217;t tell you! It doesn&#8217;t really make any difference, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p>
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h3>
+
+<h2>AT THE RAINBOW&#8217;S END</h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox5 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Helen&#8217;s lips are drifting dust;<br />
+Ilion is consumed with rust;<br />
+All the galleons of Greece<br />
+Drink the ocean&#8217;s dreamless peace;<br />
+Lost was Solomon&#8217;s purple show<br />
+Restless centuries ago;<br />
+Stately empires wax and wane&mdash;<br />
+Babylon, Barbary and Spain&mdash;<br />
+Only one thing, undefaced,<br />
+Lasts, though all the worlds lie waste<br />
+And the heavens are overturned,<br />
+&mdash;Dear, how long ago we learned!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="right">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Frederick Lawrence Knowles.</span></p></div>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:2px;padding-bottom:1px;">S</span>tarlit and moonlight leagues, the slow, fresh dawn; in the cool of the
+morning, Bransford came to the crest of the ground-swell known as
+Frenchman&#8217;s Ridge, and saw low-lying Arcadia dim against the north, a
+toy town huddling close to the shelter of Rainbow Range; he splashed
+through the shallow waters of Alamo, failing to a trickle before it sank
+in the desert sands; and so came at last to the moat of Arcadia. With
+what joyous and eager-choking heart-beat you may well guess: not the
+needlessness of those swift pulses or of that joy. For Ellinor was not
+there. With Mrs. Hoffman, she had gone to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>visit the Sutherlands at
+Rainbow&#8217;s End. And Jeff could not go on. Arcadia rose to greet him in
+impromptu Roman holiday.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Bransford has never known clearly what chanced on that awful day.
+There is a jumbled, whirling memory of endless kaleidoscopic troops of
+joyful Arcadians: Billy White, Monte, Jimmy, Clarke, the grim-smiling
+sheriff, the judge. It was dimly borne upon him by one or both of the
+two last, that there were yet certain formalities to be observed in the
+matter of his escape from custody of the Law and of the horse he had
+borrowed from the court house square. Indeed, it seemed to Jeff, in a
+hazy afterthought, that perhaps the sheriff had arrested him again. If
+so, it had slipped Jeff&#8217;s mind, swallowed up in a gruesome horror of
+congratulations, hand-shakings, back-slappings, badinage and questions;
+heaped on a hero heartsick, dazed and dumb. Pleading weariness, he tore
+himself away at last, almost by violence, and flung himself down in a
+darkened bedroom of the Arcadian Atalanta.</p>
+
+<p>One thing was clear. Headlight was there, Aforesaid Smith, Madison: but
+his nearest friends, Pringle, Beebe and Ballinger, though they had
+hasted back to Arcadia to fight Jeff&#8217;s battles, were ostentatiously
+absent from his hollow and hateful triumph: Johnny Dines had pointedly
+refused to share his night ride from Helm&#8217;s: and Jeff knew why, sadly
+enough. The gods take pay <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>for the goods they give: and now that goodly
+fellowship was broken. The thought clung fast: it haunted his tossing
+and troubled slumbers, where Ellinor came through a sunset glow,
+swift-footed to meet him: where his friends rode slow and silent into
+the glimmering dusk, smaller and smaller, black against the sky.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>The Sutherland place made an outer corner of Rainbow&#8217;s End, bowered
+about by a double row of close and interlaced cottonwoods on two sides,
+by vigorous orchards on the other two.</p>
+
+<p>The house had once been a one-storied adobe, heroically proportioned,
+thick-walled, cool against summer, warm in what went by the name of
+winter. The old-time princely hospitality was unchanged, but Sutherland
+had bought lots in Arcadia of early days; and now, the old gray walls of
+the house were smooth with creamy stucco, wrought of gypsum from the
+White Sands; the windows were widened and there was a superimposed
+story, overhanging, wide and low. The gables were double-windowed,
+shingled and stained nut-brown, the gently sloping roof shingled,
+dormered and soft green: the overflow projecting to broad verandas on
+either side, very like an umbrella: a bungalow with two birthdays&mdash;1866
+: 1896.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor Hoffman had deserted veranda, rocking-chair and hammock.
+With a sewing basket <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>beside her, she sat on a pine bench under a
+cottonwood of 1867, ostensibly basting together a kimono tinted like a
+dripping sea shell, and faced with peach-blossom.</p>
+
+<p>The work went slowly. Her seat was at the desert corner of the homestead
+which was itself the desert outpost of a desert town: and her blood
+stirred to these splendid horizons. The mysterious desert scoffed and
+questioned, drew her with promise of strange joys and strange griefs.
+The iron-hard mountains beckoned and challenged from afar, wove her
+their spells of wavering lights and shadows; the misty warp and woof of
+them shifting to swift fantastic hues of trembling rose and blue and
+violet, half-veiling, half-revealing, steeps unguessed and dreamed-of
+sheltered valleys&mdash;and all the myriad-voice of moaning waste and
+world-rimming hill cried &#8220;Come!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Faint, fitful undertone of drowsy chords, far pealing of elfin bells;
+that was pulsing of busy <i>acequias</i>, tinkling of mimic waterfalls. The
+clean breath of the desert crooned by, bearing a grateful fragrance of
+apple-blossoms near; it rippled the deepest green of alfalfa to
+undulating sheen of purple and flashing gold.</p>
+
+<p>The broad fields were dwarfed to play-garden prettiness by the vastness
+of overwhelming desert, to right, to left, before; whose nearer blotches
+of black and gray and brown faded, far off, to a nameless shimmer, its
+silent leagues dwindling to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>immeasurable blur, merging
+indistinguishable in the burning sunset.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;East by up,&#8221; overguarding the oasis, the colossal bulk of Rainbow
+walled out the world with grim-tiered cliffs, cleft only by the
+deep-gashed gates of Rainbow Pass, where the swift river broke through
+to the rich fields of Rainbow&#8217;s End, bringing fulfilment of the fabled
+pot of gold&mdash;or, unused, to shrink and fail and die in the thirsty sand.</p>
+
+<p>Below, the whilom channel wandered forlorn&mdash;Rainbow no longer, but Lost
+River&mdash;to a disconsolate delta, waterless save as infrequent floods
+found turbulent way to the Sink, when wild horse and antelope revisited
+their old haunts for the tender green luxury of these brief, belated
+springs.</p>
+
+<p>Incidentally, Miss Hoffman&#8217;s outpost commanded a good view of Arcadia
+road, winding white through the black tar-brush. Had she looked, she
+might have seen a slow horseman, tiny on the bare plain below the
+tar-brush, larger as he climbed the gentle slope along that
+white-winding road.</p>
+
+<p>But she bent industrious to her work, smiling to herself, half-singing,
+half-humming a foolish and lilty little tune:</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox4 bbox2"><p>&#8220;A tisket, a tasket&mdash;a green and yellow basket;<br />
+I wrote a letter to my love and on the road I lost it&mdash;<br />
+I crissed it, I crossed it&mdash;I locked it in a casket;<br />
+I missed it, I lost it&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>And here Miss Hoffman did an unaccountable thing. Wise Penelope
+unraveled by night the work she wove by day. Like her in this, Miss
+Ellinor Hoffman now placidly snipped and ripped the basting threads,
+unraveled them patiently, and set to work afresh.</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox3 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Now, there&#8217;s no such thing as a Ginko tree;<br />
+There never was&mdash;though there ought to be.<br />
+And &#8217;tis also true, though most absurd,<br />
+There&#8217;s no such thing as a Wallabye bird!&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman was all in white, with a white middy blouse trimmed in
+scarlet, a scarlet ribbon in her dark hair: a fine-linked gold chain
+showed at her neck. A very pretty picture she made, cool and fresh
+against the deep shade and the green&mdash;but of course she did not know it.
+She held the shaping kimono at arm&#8217;s length, admiring the delicate
+color, and fell to work again.</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox7 bbox2"><p>&#8220;Oh, the jolly miller, he lives by himself!<br />
+As the wheel rolls around he gathers in his pelf,<br />
+A hand in the hopper and another in the bag&mdash;<br />
+As the wheel rolls around he calls out, &#8216;<i>Grab!</i>&#8217;&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>So intent and preoccupied was she, that she did not hear the approaching
+horse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good evening!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; Miss Hoffman jumped, dropping the long-suffering kimono. A
+horseman, with bared head, had reined up in the shaded road alongside.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>&#8220;How silly of me not to hear you coming! If you&#8217;re looking for Mr.
+Sutherland, he&#8217;s not here&mdash;Mr. David Sutherland, that is. But Mr. Henry
+Sutherland is here&mdash;or was awhile ago&mdash;maybe half an hour since. He was
+trying to get up a set of tennis. Perhaps they&#8217;re playing&mdash;over there on
+the other side of the house. And yet, if they were there, we&#8217;d hear them
+laughing&mdash;don&#8217;t you think?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford&mdash;for it was Mr. Bransford, and he was all dressed in
+clothes&mdash;waited with extreme patience for the conclusion of these
+feverish and hurried remarks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;m not looking for Sutherland. I&#8217;m looking for you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; said Ellinor again. Then, after a long and deliberate survey, the
+light of recognition dawned slowly in her eyes. &#8220;Oh, I <i>do</i> know you,
+don&#8217;t I? To be sure I do! You&#8217;re Mr.&mdash;&mdash;the gentleman I met on Rainbow
+Mountain, near Mayhill,&mdash;Mr.&mdash;ah yes&mdash;Bransford!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, so I am!&#8221; said Jeff, leaning on the saddle-horn. One half of Mr.
+Bransford wondered if he had not been making a fool of himself and
+taking a great deal for granted: the other half, though considerably
+alarmed, was not at all deceived.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor did not actually put her finger in the corner of her
+mouth&mdash;she merely looked as if she had. &#8220;Ah!&mdash;Won&#8217;t you ... get <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>down?&#8221;
+she said helplessly. &#8220;What a beautiful horse!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes&mdash;thank you&mdash;I believe I will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He left the beautiful horse to stand with dangling reins, and came over
+to the bench, silent and rather grim.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t you sit down?&#8221; said Ellinor politely. &#8220;Fine day, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a wonderful day&mdash;a marvelous day&mdash;a stupendous day!&#8221; said this
+exasperated young man. &#8220;No, I guess it&#8217;s not worth while to sit down. I
+just wanted to find out where you lived. I asked you once before, you
+know, and you didn&#8217;t tell me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t I? Oh, do sit down! You look so grumpy&mdash;tired, I mean.&#8221; Rather
+grudgingly, she swept the sewing basket from the bench to the grass.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff&#8217;s eyes followed the action. He saw&mdash;if you call it seeing&mdash;the
+snipped threads on the grass, the yet unpicked bastings, white against
+the peach-pink facing; but he was a mere man, hardly-circumstanced, and
+these eloquent tidings were wasted upon his clumsy intellect: as had
+been the surprising good fortune of finding Miss Ellinor exactly where
+she was.</p>
+
+<p>Nerving himself with memory of the Quaker Lady at the masquerade&mdash;if,
+indeed, that had ever really happened&mdash;Jeff took the offered seat.</p>
+
+<p>The young lady matched two edges together, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>smoothed them, eyed the
+result critically, and plied a nimble needle. Then she turned clear and
+guileless eyes on her glooming seatmate.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You look older, somehow, than I thought you were, now that I remember,&#8221;
+she observed, biting the thread. &#8220;You&#8217;ve been away, haven&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thought you were going away, yourself, so wild and fierce?&#8221; said Jeff,
+evading.&mdash;<i>Been away, indeed!</i></p>
+
+<p>Ellinor threaded her needle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mamma <i>was</i> talking of going for a while,&#8221; she said tranquilly. &#8220;But
+I&#8217;m rather glad we didn&#8217;t. We&#8217;re having a splendid time here&mdash;and Mr.
+White&#8217;s going to take us to the White Sands next week. He&#8217;ll be down
+to-morrow&mdash;at least I think so. He&#8217;s fine! He took us to Mescalero early
+in the spring. And the young people here at Rainbow&#8217;s End are simply
+delightful. You must meet some of them. Listen! There they are now&mdash;I
+hear them. They <i>are</i> playing tennis. Come on up and I&#8217;ll introduce you.
+I can finish this thing any time.&#8221; She tossed the poor kimono into the
+basket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said this unhappy young man, rising. &#8220;I believe I&#8217;ll go on back.
+Good-by, Miss Ell&mdash;Miss Hoffman. I wish you much happiness!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;surely you&#8217;re not going now? There are some nice girls here&mdash;they
+have heard so much <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>of you, but they say they&#8217;ve never met you. Don&#8217;t
+you <span style="white-space: nowrap;">want&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</span></p>
+
+<p>Jeff groaned, fumbling blindly at the bridle. &#8220;No, I wish I&#8217;d never seen
+a girl!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why-y! That&#8217;s not very polite, is it?&mdash;&mdash;Are&mdash;are you&mdash;mad to me?&#8221; said
+Ellinor in a meek little voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mad? No,&#8221; said Jeff bitterly. &#8220;I&#8217;m just coming to my senses. I&#8217;ve been
+dreaming. Now I&#8217;ve woke up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Angry, I mean, of course. I just say it that way&mdash;&#8216;are you mad to
+me&#8217;&mdash;sometimes&mdash;to be&mdash;to be&mdash;nice, Mr. Bransford!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You needn&#8217;t bother! Good-by!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;ll see you again&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Never!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&mdash;&mdash;when you&#8217;re not so&mdash;cross?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff reached for his stirrup.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well! If you&#8217;re going to be huffy! Never it is, then, by all means!
+No&mdash;wait! I must give you back your present.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have never given you a present. Some other man, doubtless. You should
+keep a list!&#8221; said Jeff, with bitter and cutting scorn.</p>
+
+<p>The girl turned half away from him and hid her face with trembling
+hands; her shoulders shook with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look the other way, sir! Turn your head! You shall have your present
+back and then if you&#8217;re so anxious to go&mdash;Go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Miss Hoffman, I never gave you a present in my life,&#8221; Jeff protested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You did!&#8221; sobbed Ellinor. She turned upon him, stamping her foot. &#8220;You
+said, when you gave it to me, that you hoped it would bring me good
+luck. And you&#8217;ve forgotten! <i>You&#8217;d</i> better keep a list! Turn your head
+away, I tell you!&#8221; She sank down on the bench.</p>
+
+<p>Confused, mazed, bewildered, Jeff obeyed her.</p>
+
+<p>She sprang to her feet. She was laughing, blushing, glowing. In her hand
+was the little gold chain.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, you may look. Hold out your hand, sir!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jeff&#8217;s mind was whirling; he held out his hand. She laid a little gold
+locket in his palm. It was warm, that little locket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have never seen this locket before in my life!&#8221; gasped Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Open it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He opened it. The little eohippus glared up at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ellinor!&mdash;<i>Charley Gibson!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tobe! Jeff!&mdash;<i>Jamie!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The little eohippus stared unwinking from the grass.</p>
+
+<h3>THE BEGINNING</h3>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="centerbox11 bbox"><p class="center"><i>&#8220;The Books You Like to Read<br />
+at the Price You Like to Pay&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<h3><i>There Are Two Sides<br />
+to Everything&mdash;</i></h3>
+
+<p>&mdash;including the wrapper which covers every Grosset &amp; 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 &amp;
+Dunlap book wrapper.</p>
+
+<p>You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from&mdash;books for
+every mood and every taste and every pocketbook.</p>
+
+<p><i>Don&#8217;t forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to
+the publishers for a complete catalog.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center"><i>There is a Grosset &amp; 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>EMERSON HOUGH&#8217;S NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="u">THE COVERED WAGON</p>
+
+<p>An epic story of the Great West from which the famous picture was made.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE WAY OF A MAN</p>
+
+<p>A colorful romance of the pioneer West before the Civil War.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE SAGEBRUSHER</p>
+
+<p>An Eastern girl answers a matrimonial ad. and goes out West in the hills
+of Montana to find her mate.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE WAY OUT</p>
+
+<p>A romance of the feud district of the Cumberland country.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE BROKEN GATE</p>
+
+<p>A story of broken social conventions and of a woman&#8217;s determination to
+put the past behind her.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE WAY TO THE WEST</p>
+
+<p>Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and Kit Carson figure in this story of the
+opening of the West.</p>
+
+<p class="u">HEART&#8217;S DESIRE</p>
+
+<p>The story of what happens when the railroad came to a little settlement
+in the far West.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE PURCHASE PRICE</p>
+
+<p>A story of Kentucky during the days after the American Revolution.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h3>GEORGE W. OGDEN&#8217;S WESTERN NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="u">THE BARON OF DIAMOND TAIL</p>
+
+<p>The Elk Mountain Cattle Co. had not paid a dividend in years; so Edgar
+Barrett, fresh from the navy, was sent West to see what was wrong at the
+ranch. The tale of this tenderfoot outwitting the buckaroos at their own
+play will sweep you into the action of this salient western novel.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE BONDBOY</p>
+
+<p>Joe Newbolt, bound out by force of family conditions to work for a
+number of years, is accused of murder and circumstances are against him.
+His mouth is sealed; he cannot, as a gentleman, utter the words that
+would clear him. A dramatic, romantic tale of intense interest.</p>
+
+<p class="u">CLAIM NUMBER ONE</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Warren Slavens drew claim number one, which entitled him to first
+choice of rich lands on an Indian reservation in Wyoming. It meant a
+fortune; but before he established his ownership he had a hard battle
+with crooks and politicians.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE DUKE OF CHIMNEY BUTTE</p>
+
+<p>When Jerry Lambert, &#8220;the Duke,&#8221; attempts to safeguard the cattle ranch
+of Vesta Philbrook from thieving neighbors, his work is appallingly
+handicapped because of Grace Kerr, one of the chief agitators, and a
+deadly enemy of Vesta&#8217;s. A stirring tale of brave deeds, gun-play and a
+love that shines above all.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE FLOCKMASTER OF POISON CREEK</p>
+
+<p>John Mackenzie trod the trail from Jasper to the great sheep country
+where fortunes were being made by the flock-masters. Shepherding was not
+a peaceful pursuit in those bygone days. Adventure met him at every
+turn&mdash;there is a girl of course&mdash;men fight their best fights for a
+woman&mdash;it is an epic of the sheeplands.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE LAND OF LAST CHANCE</p>
+
+<p>Jim Timberlake and Capt. David Scott waited with restless thousands on
+the Oklahoma line for the signal to dash across the border. How the city
+of Victory arose overnight on the plains, how people savagely defended
+their claims against the &#8220;sooners;&#8221; how good men and bad played
+politics, makes a strong story of growth and American initiative.</p>
+
+<p class="u">TRAIL&#8217;S END</p>
+
+<p>Ascalon was the end of the trail for thirsty cowboys who gave vent to
+their pent-up feelings without restraint. Calvin Morgan was not
+concerned with its wickedness until Seth Craddock&#8217;s malevolence directed
+itself against him. He did not emerge from the maelstrom until he had
+obliterated every vestige of lawlessness, and assured himself of the
+safety of a certain dark-eyed girl.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h3>JACKSON GREGORY&#8217;S NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<p class="u">THE EVERLASTING WHISPER</p>
+
+<p>The story of a strong man&#8217;s struggle against savage nature and humanity,
+and of a beautiful girl&#8217;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&#8217;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&#8217;s Ranch much to her
+chagrin. There is &#8220;another man&#8221; 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 &#8220;Lone Wolf.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h3>PETER B. KYNE&#8217;S NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;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&mdash;there&#8217;s a tale that Kyne can tell! And &#8220;the girl&#8221; 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 &#8220;Nan of the Sawdust Pile,&#8221; 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&#8217;S MAN</p>
+
+<p>In a little Jim Crow Republic in Central America, a man and a woman,
+hailing from the &#8220;States,&#8221; 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 seafaring
+men&mdash;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 &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<h3>EDGAR RICE BURROUGH&#8217;S<br />
+NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<p class="u">TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION</p>
+
+<p>A tale of the African wilderness which appeals to all readers of
+fiction.</p>
+
+<p class="u">TARZAN THE TERRIBLE</p>
+
+<p>Further thrilling adventures of Tarzan while seeking his wife in Africa.</p>
+
+<p class="u">TARZAN THE UNTAMED</p>
+
+<p>Tells of Tarzan&#8217;s return to the life of the ape-man in seeking vengeance
+for the loss of his wife and home.</p>
+
+<p class="u">JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN</p>
+
+<p>Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to
+ape kingship.</p>
+
+<p class="u">AT THE EARTH&#8217;S CORE</p>
+
+<p>An astonishing series of adventures in a world located inside of the
+Earth.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE MUCKER</p>
+
+<p>The story of Billy Byrne&mdash;as extraordinary a character as the famous
+Tarzan.</p>
+
+<p class="u">A PRINCESS OF MARS</p>
+
+<p>Forty-three million miles from the earth&mdash;a succession of the weirdest
+and most astounding adventures in fiction.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE GODS OF MARS</p>
+
+<p>John Carter&#8217;s adventures on Mars, where he fights the ferocious &#8220;plant
+men,&#8221; and defies Issus, the Goddess of Death.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE WARLORD OF MARS</p>
+
+<p>Old acquaintances, made in two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas,
+Tardos Mors and others.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THUVIA, MAID OF MARS</p>
+
+<p>The story centers around the adventures of Carthoris, the son of John
+Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian Emperor.</p>
+
+<p class="u">THE CHESSMEN OF MARS</p>
+
+<p>The adventures of Princess Tara in the land of headless men, creatures
+with the power of detaching their heads from their bodies and replacing
+them at will.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h3>ZANE GREY&#8217;S NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">TO THE LAST MAN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE MYSTERIOUS RIDER</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE MAN OF THE FOREST</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE DESERT OF WHEAT</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE U. P. TRAIL</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">WILDFIRE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE BORDER LEGION</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE RAINBOW TRAIL</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE LONE STAR RANGER</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">DESERT GOLD</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">BETTY ZANE</span></span></p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="u">LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS</p>
+
+<p>The life story of &#8220;Buffalo Bill&#8221; by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, with
+Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey.</p>
+
+<h4>ZANE GREY&#8217;S BOOKS FOR BOYS</h4>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE YOUNG LION HUNTER</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE YOUNG FORESTER</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE YOUNG PITCHER</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE SHORT STOP</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER</span></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><span class="u">BASEBALL STORIES</span></span></p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h3>JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD&#8217;S STORIES OF ADVENTURE</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE COUNTRY BEYOND</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE FLAMING FOREST</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE RIVER&#8217;S END</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE GOLDEN SNARE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">NOMADS OF THE NORTH</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">KAZAN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">BAREE, SON OF KAZAN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE DANGER TRAIL</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE HUNTED WOMAN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE GRIZZLY KING</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">ISOBEL</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE WOLF HUNTERS</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE GOLD HUNTERS</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THE COURAGE OF MARGE O&#8217;DOONE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">BACK TO GOD&#8217;S COUNTRY</span></span></p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h4>NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE</h4>
+<h3>WILLIAM <span class="smcap">Mac</span>LEOD RAINE</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">BIG-TOWN ROUND-UP, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">BRAND BLOTTERS</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">BUCKY O&#8217;CONNOR</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">DAUGHTER OF THE DONS, A</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">GUNSIGHT PASS</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">HIGHGRADER, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">MAN FOUR-SQUARE, A</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">MAN-SIZE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">MAVERICKS</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">OH, YOU TEX!</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">PIRATE OF PANAMA, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">RIDGWAY OF MONTANA</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">SHERIFF&#8217;S SON, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">STEVE YEAGER</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">TANGLED TRAILS</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">TEXAS RANGER, A</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">VISION SPLENDID, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">WYOMING</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">YUKON TRAIL, THE</span></span></p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h3>JACK LONDON&#8217;S NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">ADVENTURE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">BURNING DAYLIGHT</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">CALL OF THE WILD, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">DAUGHTER OF THE SNOWS, A</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">JERRY OF THE ISLANDS</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">JOHN BARLEYCORN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">LITTLE LADY OF THE BIG HOUSE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">MARTIN EDEN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">MICHAEL, BROTHER OF JERRY</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">MUTINY OF THE ELSINORE, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">NIGHT BORN, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">SEA WOLF, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">SMOKE BELLEW</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">SON OF THE WOLF, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">STAR ROVER, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">VALLEY OF THE MOON, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">WHITE FANG</span></span></p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h2>B. M. BOWER&#8217;S NOVELS</h2>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">CASEY RYAN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">CHIP OF THE FLYING U</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">COW-COUNTRY</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">FLYING U RANCH</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">FLYING U&#8217;S LAST STAND, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">GOOD INDIAN</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">GRINGOS, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">HAPPY FAMILY, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">LONG SHADOW, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">LONESOME TRAIL, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">LOOKOUT MAN, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">PHANTOM HERD, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">QUIRT, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">RANGE DWELLERS, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">RIM O&#8217; THE WORLD</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">SKYRIDER</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">STARR OF THE DESERT</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">THUNDER BIRD, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">TRAIL OF THE WHITE MULE, THE</span></span>
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1.75em;"><span class="u">UPHILL CLIMB, THE</span></span></p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="double2"></div>
+
+<h3>BOOTH TARKINGTON&#8217;S<br />
+NOVELS</h3>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center">May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset &amp; Dunlap&#8217;s list.</p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div>
+
+<p><span class="u">SEVENTEEN.</span> Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.</p>
+
+<p>No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young
+people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the
+time when the reader was Seventeen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="u">PENROD.</span> Illustrated by Gordon Grant.</p>
+
+<p>This is a picture of a boy&#8217;s heart, full of the lovable, humorous,
+tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a
+finished, exquisite work.</p>
+
+<p><span class="u">PENROD AND SAM.</span> Illustrated by Worth Brehm.</p>
+
+<p>Like &#8220;Penrod&#8221; and &#8220;Seventeen,&#8221; this book contains some remarkable phases
+of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness
+that have ever been written.</p>
+
+<p><span class="u">THE TURMOIL.</span> Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.</p>
+
+<p>Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his
+father&#8217;s plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a
+fine girl turns Bibbs&#8217; life from failure to success.</p>
+
+<p><span class="u">THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA.</span> Frontispiece.</p>
+
+<p>A story of love and politics,&mdash;more especially a picture of a country
+editor&#8217;s life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love
+interest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="u">THE FLIRT.</span> Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;Flirt,&#8221; the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl&#8217;s engagement,
+drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another
+to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising
+suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.</p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. &amp; D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p>
+
+<div class="double"></div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</span></p>
+
+<div class="double3"></div></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<h3><span class="smcap">Footnotes:</span></h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> &#8220;<i>Bull Durham.</i>&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> It is not intimated that Mr. Hubbard wrote this&mdash;merely
+that he printed it.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Author.</span></p></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber&#8217;s Note:</span></h3>
+
+<p>Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters&#8217; errors; otherwise,
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author&#8217;s word and intent.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="pg" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 33498-h.txt or 33498-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/3/4/9/33498">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/4/9/33498</a></p>
+<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.</p>
+
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+
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Bransford of Rainbow Range, by Eugene Manlove
+Rhodes, Illustrated by Harvey T. Dunn
+
+
+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: Bransford of Rainbow Range
+       Originally Published under the title of Bransford in Arcadia, or, The Little Eohippus
+
+
+Author: Eugene Manlove Rhodes
+
+
+
+Release Date: August 25, 2010  [eBook #33498]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by D Alexander and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
+generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustration.
+      See 33498-h.htm or 33498-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33498/33498-h/33498-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33498/33498-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/bransfordofrainb00rhodiala
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+      1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters'
+         errors; otherwise every effort has been made to remain
+         true to the author's words and intent.
+
+      2. Text that was typeset in italics in the original book
+         is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). Text that was
+         underlined is enclosed by equal signs (=underlined=).
+
+
+
+
+
+BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE
+
+Originally Published under the title of
+
+BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA
+Or, The Little Eohippus
+
+by
+
+EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES
+
+Author of
+The Desire of the Moth,
+Good Men and True, West Is West, Etc.
+
+Frontispiece by Harvey T. Dunn
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Grosset & Dunlap
+Publishers   New York
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+Copyright, 1913, by
+Curtis Publishing Company
+
+Copyright, 1914, by
+Henry Holt and Company
+
+Copyright, 1920, by
+The H. K. Fly Company
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE HORSES WERE UNWILLING TO ENTER THE CIRCLE OF
+FIRELIGHT. _Page_ 181]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ CHAPTER                                               PAGE
+
+        PROLOGUE                                         1
+     I  THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL               27
+    II  FIRST AID                                       35
+   III  MAXWELTON BRAES                                 47
+    IV  THE ROAD TO ROME                                61
+     V  THE MASKERS                                     71
+    VI  THE ISLE OF ARCADY                              86
+   VII  STATES-GENERAL                                  95
+  VIII  ARCADES AMBO                                   106
+    IX  TAKEN                                          113
+     X  THE ALIBI                                      125
+    XI  THE NETTLE, DANGER                             136
+   XII  THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN                   150
+  XIII  THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN (_continued_)     169
+   XIV  FLIGHT                                         181
+    XV  GOOD-BY                                        194
+   XVI  THE LAND OF AFTERNOON                          205
+  XVII  TWENTIETH CENTURY                              215
+ XVIII  AT THE RAINBOW'S END                           226
+
+
+
+
+ BRANSFORD OF
+ RAINBOW RANGE
+
+
+
+
+ BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA
+
+
+
+
+ PROLOGUE
+
+
+ I
+
+
+The long fall round-up was over. The wagon, homeward bound, made camp
+for the last night out at the Sinks of Lost River. Most of the men, worn
+with threescore night-guards, were buried under their tarps in the deep
+sleep of the weary; sound as that of the just, and much more common.
+
+By the low campfire a few yet lingered: old-timers, iron men, whose wiry
+and seasoned strength was toil-proof--and Leo Ballinger, for whom youth,
+excitement and unsated novelty served in lieu of fitness.
+
+The "firelighters," working the wide range again from Ancho to Hueco,
+from the Mal Pais to Glencoe, fell silent now, to mark an unstaled
+miracle.
+
+The clustered lights of Rainbow's End shone redly, near and low. Beyond,
+above, dominant, the black, unbroken bulk of Rainbow Range shut out the
+east. The clear-cut crest mellowed to luminous curves, feathery with
+far-off pines; the long skyline thrilled with frosty fire, glowed,
+sparkled--the cricket's chirp was stilled; the slow, late moon rose to a
+hushed and waiting world.
+
+On the sharp crest she paused, irresolute, tiptoe, quivering, rosily
+aflush. Above floated a web of gossamer. She leaped up, spurning the
+black rim; glowed, palpitant, through that filmy lace--and all the
+desert throbbed with vibrant light.
+
+Cool and sweet and fresh, from maiden leagues of clean, brown earth the
+desert winds made whisper in grass and fragrant shrub; yucca, mesquite
+and greasewood swayed--so softly, you had not known save as the long
+shadows courtesied and danced.
+
+Leo flung up his hand. The air was wine to him. A year had left the
+desert still new and strange. "Gee!" he said eloquently.
+
+Headlight nodded. "You're dead right on that point, son. If Christopher
+K. Columbus had only thought to beach his shallops on the sundown side
+of this here continent he might have made a name for himself. Just think
+how much different, hysterically, these United States----"
+
+"_This_ United States," corrected Pringle dispassionately. Their fathers
+had disagreed on the same grammatical point.
+
+Headlight scowled. "By Jings! 'That _this_ United Colonies are, and of
+right ought to be, free and independent States,'" he quoted. "I was
+goin' to give you something new to exercise your talons on. You sit
+here every night, ridin' broncs and four-footin' steers, and never grab
+a horn or waste a loop, not once. Sure things ain't amusin'. Some
+variety and doubtful accuracy, now, would develop our guessin' gifts."
+
+Aforesaid Smith brandished the end-gate rod. "Them speculations of yours
+sorter opens up of themselves. If California had been settled first the
+salmon would now be our national bird instead of the potato. Think of
+Arizona, mother of Presidents! Seat of government at Milipitas; center
+of population about Butte; New Jersey howlin' about Nevada trusts!" He
+impaled a few beef ribs and held them over the glowing embers.
+
+"Georgia and South Carolina would be infested by cow-persons
+in decollete leather panties," said Jeff Bransford. "New York
+and Pennsylvania would be fondly turning a credulous ear to the
+twenty-fourth consecutive solemn promise of Statehood--with the
+Senator from Walla Walla urging admission of both as one mighty
+State with Maryland and Virginia thrown in for luck."
+
+Headlight forgot his pique. "Wouldn't the railroads sound funny, though?
+Needles and Eastern, Northern Atlantic, Southern Atlantic, Union,
+Western, Kansas and Central Atlantic! Earnest and continuous demand for
+a President from east of the Mississippi. All the prize-fights pulled
+off at Boston."
+
+"Columbus done just right," said Pringle decisively. "You fellers ain't
+got no imagination a-tall. If this Western country'd been settled first,
+the maps would read: 'Northeast Territory.--Uninhabitable wilderness;
+region of storm and snow, roaming savages and fierce wild beasts.' When
+the intrepid explorer hit the big white weather he'd say, 'Little old
+San Diego's good enough for me!' Yes, sir!"
+
+"Oh, well, climate alone doesn't account for the charm of this
+country--nor scenery," said Leo. "You feel it, but you don't know why it
+is."
+
+"It sure agrees with your by-laws," observed Pringle. "You're a sight
+changed from the furtive behemoth you was. You'll make a hand yet. But,
+even now, your dimensions from east to west is plumb fascinatin'. I'd
+sure admire to have your picture to put in my cornfield."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Pringle: I'll exchange photographs with you," said Leo
+artlessly. A smothered laugh followed this remark; uncertainty as to
+what horrible and unnamed use Leo would make of Pringle's pictured face
+appealed to these speculative minds.
+
+"I've studied out this charm business," said Jeff. "See if I'm not
+right. It's because there's no habitually old men here to pattern after,
+to steady us, to make us ashamed of just staying boys. Now and then you
+hit an octagonal cuss like Wes here, that on a mere count of years and
+hairs might be sized up as old by the superficial observer. But if I
+have ever met that man more addicted with vivid nonchalance as to
+further continuance of educational facilities than this same Also Ran,
+his number has now escaped me. Really aged old people stay where they
+was."
+
+"I think, myself, that what makes life so easy and congenial in these
+latigos and longitudes is the dearth of law and the ladies." Thus
+Pringle, the cynic.
+
+A fourfold outcry ensued; indignant repudiation of the latter heresy.
+Their protest rose above the customary subdued and quiet drawl of the
+out-of-doors man.
+
+"But has the law no defenders?" demanded Leo. "We've got to have laws to
+make us behave."
+
+"Sure thing! Likewise, 'tis the waves that make the tide come in," said
+Jeff. "A good law is as handy as a good pocketbook. But law, as simply
+such, independent of its merits, rouses no enthusiasm in my manly bosom,
+no more than a signboard the day after Hallowe'en. If it occurs to me in
+a moment of emotional sanity that the environments of the special case
+in hand call for a compound fracture of the statutes made and
+provided--for some totally different cases that happen to be called by
+the same name--I fall upon it with my glittering hew-gag, without no
+special wonder. For," he declaimed, "I am endowed by nature with certain
+inalienable rights, among which are the high justice, the middle, and
+the low!"
+
+"And who's to be the judge of whether it's a good law or not? You?"
+
+"Me. Me, every time. Some one must. If I let some other man make up my
+mind I've got to use my judgment--picking the man I follow. By
+organizing myself into a Permanent Committee of One to do my own
+thinking I take my one chance of mistakes instead of two."
+
+"So you believe in doing evil that good may come, do you?"
+
+"Well," said Jeff judicially, "it seems to be at least as good a
+proposition as doing good that evil may come of it. Why, Capricorn,
+there isn't one thing we call wrong, when other men do it, that hasn't
+been lawful, some time or other. When to break a law is to do a wrong,
+it's evil. When it's doing right to break a law, it's not evil. Got
+that? It's not wrong to keep a just law--and if it's wrong to break an
+unjust law I want a new dictionary with pictures of it in the back."
+
+"But laws is useful and excitin' diversions to break up the monogamy,"
+said Aforesaid. "And it's a dead easy way to build up a rep. Look at
+the edge I've got on you fellows. You're just supposed to be
+honest--but I've been proved honest, frequent!"
+
+"Hark!" said Pringle.
+
+A weird sound reached them--the night wrangler, beguiling his lonely
+vigil with song.
+
+     "Oh, the cuckoo is a pretty bird; she comes in the spring----"
+
+"What do you s'pose that night-hawk thinks about the majesty of the
+law?" he said. There was a ringing note in his voice. Smith and
+Headlight nodded gravely; their lean, brown faces hardened.
+
+"You haven't heard of it? Old John Taylor, daddy to yonder warbler,
+drifted here from the East. Wife and little girl both puny. Taylor takes
+up a homestead on the Feliz. He wasn't affluent none. I let him have my
+old paint pony, Freckles--him being knee-sprung and not up to cow-work.
+To make out an unparalleled team, he got Ed Poe's Billy Bowlegs, nee
+Gambler, him havin' won a new name by a misunderstanding with a
+prairie-dog hole. Taylor paid Poe for him in work. He was a willin' old
+rooster, Taylor, but futile and left-handed all over.
+
+"John, Junior, he was only thirteen. Him and the old man moseyed around
+like two drunk ants, fixin' up a little log house with rock chimbleys,
+a horse-pen and shelter, rail-fencin' of the little _vegas_ to put to
+crops, and so on.
+
+"Done you good to drop in and hear 'em plan and figger. They was one
+happy family. How Sis Em'ly bragged about their hens layin'! In the
+spring we all held a bee and made their _'cequias_ for 'em. Baker, he
+loaned 'em a plow. They dragged big branches over the ground for a
+harrow. They could milk anybody's cows they was a mind to tame, and the
+boys took to carryin' over motherless calves for Mis' Taylor to raise.
+Taylor, he done odd jobs, and they got along real well with their crops.
+They went into the second winter peart as squirrels.
+
+"But, come spring, Sis wasn't doin' well. They had the Agency doctor.
+Too high up and too damp, he said. So the missus and Em'ly they went to
+Cruces, where Em'ly could go to school.
+
+"That meant right smart of expense--rentin' a house and all. So the
+Johns they hires out. John, Junior, made his dayboo as wrangler for the
+Steam Pitchfork, acquirin' the obvious name of Felix.
+
+"The old man he got a job muckin' in Organ mines. Kept his hawses in
+Jeff Isaack's pasture, and Saturday nights he'd get one and slip down
+them eighteen miles to Cruces for Sunday with the folks.
+
+"Well, you know, a homesteader can't be off his claim more'n six months
+at a time.
+
+"I reckon if there was ever a homestead taken up in good faith 'twas the
+Butterbowl. They knew the land laws from A to Izzard. Even named their
+hound pup Boney Fido!
+
+"But the old man waited at Organ till the last bell rang, so's to draw
+down his wages, payday. Then he bundles the folks into his little old
+wagon and lights out. Campin' at Casimiro's Well, half-way 'cross, that
+ornery Freckles hawse has a fit of malignant nostolgy and projects off
+for Butterbowl, afoot, in his hobbles. Next day, Taylor don't overtake
+him till the middle of the evenin', and what with going back and what
+with Freckles being hobble-sore, he's two days late in reachin' home.
+For Lake, of Agua Chiquite, that prosperous person, had been keeping
+cases. He entered contest on the Butterbowl, allegin' abandonment.
+
+"Now, if it was me--but, then, if 'twas me I could stay away six years
+and two months without no remonstrances from Lake or his likes. I'm
+somewhat abandoned myself.
+
+"But poor old Taylor, he's been drug up where they hold biped life
+unaccountable high. He sits him down resignedly beneath the sky, as the
+poet says, meek and legal. We all don't abnormally like to precipitate
+in another man's business, but we makes it up to sorter saunter in on
+Lake, spontaneous, and evince our disfavor with a rope. But Taylor
+says, 'No.' He allows the Land Office won't hold him morally responsible
+for the sinful idiocy of a homesick spotted hawse that's otherwise
+reliable.
+
+"He's got one more guess comin'. There ain't no sympathies to machinery.
+Your intentions may be strictly honorable, but if you get your hand
+caught in the cogs, off it goes, regardless of how handy it is for
+flankin' calves, holdin' nails, and such things. 'Absent over six
+months. Entry canceled. Contestant is allowed thirty days' prior right
+to file. Next.'
+
+"That's the way that decision'll read. It ain't come yet, but it's due
+soon.
+
+"This here Felix looks at it just like the old man, only
+different--though he ain't makin' no statements for publication. He
+come here young, and having acquired the fixed habit of riskin' his
+neck, regular, for one dollar per each and every diem, shooin' in the
+reluctant steer, or a fool hawse pirouettin' across the pinnacles
+with a nosebag on--or, mebbee, just for fun--why, natural, he don't
+see why life is so sweet or peace so dear as to put up with any damn
+foolishness, as Pat Henry used to say when the boys called on him for
+a few remarks. He's a some serious-minded boy, that night-hawk, and
+if signs is any indications, he's fixin' to take an appeal under the
+Winchester Act. I ain't no seventh son of a son-of-a-gun, but my
+prognostications are that he presently removes Lake to another and,
+we trust, a better world."
+
+"Good thing, too," grunted Headlight. "This Lake person is sure-lee a
+muddy pool."
+
+"Shet your fool head," said Pringle amiably. "You may be on the jury.
+I'm going to seek my virtuous couch. Glad we don't have to bed no
+cattle, _viva voce_, this night."
+
+"Ain't he the Latin scholar?" said Headlight admiringly. "They blow
+about that wire Julius Caesar sent the Associated Press, but old man
+Pringle done him up for levity and precision when he wrote us the
+account of his visit to the Denver carnival. Ever hear about it,
+Sagittarius?"
+
+"No," said Leo. "What did he say?"
+
+"Hic--hock--hike!"
+
+
+II
+
+Escondido, half-way of the desert, is designed on simple lines. The
+railroad hauls water in tank-cars from Dog Canyon. There is one depot,
+one section-house, and one combination post-office-hotel-store-saloon-
+stage-station, kept by Ma Sanders and Pappy Sanders, in about the order
+mentioned. Also, one glorious green cottonwood, one pampered rosebush,
+jointly the pride and delight of Escondido, ownerless, but cherished by
+loving care and "toted" tribute of waste water.
+
+Hither came Jeff and Leo, white with the dust of twenty starlit leagues,
+for accumulated mail of Rainbow South. Horse-feeding, breakfast, gossip
+with jolly, motherly Ma Sanders, reading and answering of mail--then
+their beauty nap; so missing the day's event, the passing of the Flyer.
+When they woke Escondido basked drowsily in the low, westering sun. The
+far sunset ranges had put off their workaday homespun brown and gray for
+chameleon hues of purple and amethyst; their deep, cool shadows, edged
+with trembling rose, reached out across the desert; the velvet air
+stirred faintly to the promise of the night.
+
+The agent was putting up his switch-lights; from the kitchen came a
+cheerful clatter of tinware.
+
+"Now we buy some dry goods and wet," said Leo. They went into the store.
+
+"That decision's come!" shrilled Pappy in tremulous excitement. "It's
+too durn bad! Registered letters from Land Office for Taylor and Lake,
+besides another for Lake, not registered."
+
+"That one from the Land Office, too?" said Jeff.
+
+"Didn't I jest tell ye? Say, it's a shame! Why don't some of you
+fellers----Gosh! If I was only young!"
+
+"It's a travesty on justice!" exclaimed Leo indignantly. "There's really
+no doubt but that they decided for Lake, I suppose?"
+
+"Not a bit. He's got the law with him. Then him and the Register is old
+cronies. Guess this other letter is from him unofficial, likely."
+
+Jeff seated himself on a box. "How long has this Lake got to do his
+filing in, Pappy?"
+
+"Thirty days from the time he signs the receipt for this letter--durn
+him!"
+
+"Some one ought to kidnap him," said Leo.
+
+"Why, that's illegal!" Jeff nursed his knee, turned his head to one side
+and chanted thoughtfully:
+
+     "Said the little Eohippus,
+       'I'm going to be a horse,
+     And on my middle fingernails
+       To run my earthly course'----"
+
+He broke off and smiled at Leo indulgently. Leo glanced at him sharply;
+this was Jeff's war-song aforetime. But it was to Pappy that Jeff spoke:
+
+"Dad, you're a better'n any surgeon. Wish you'd go out and look at Leo's
+horse. His ankle's all swelled up. I'll be mixin' me up a toddy, if Ma's
+got any hot water. I'm feeling kinder squeamish."
+
+"Hot toddy, this weather? Some folks has queer tastes," grumbled Pappy.
+"Ex-_cuse_ me! Me and Leo'll go look at the Charley-horse. That bottle
+under the shelf is the best." He bustled out. But Jeff caught Ballinger
+by the sleeve.
+
+"Will you hold my garments while I stone Stephen?" he hissed.
+
+"I will," said Leo, meeting Jeff's eye. "Hit him once for me."
+
+"Move the lever to the right, you old retrograde, and get Pappy to
+gyratin' on his axis some fifteen or twenty minutes, you listenin'
+reverently. Meanwhile, I'll make the necessary incantations. Git! Don't
+look so blamed intelligent, or Pappy'll be suspicious."
+
+Bransford hastened to the kitchen. "Ma Sanders, a bronc fell on me
+yesterday and my poor body is one big stone bruise. Can I borrow some
+boiling water to mix a small prescription, or maybe seven? One when you
+first feel like it, and repeat at intervals, the doctor says."
+
+"Don't you get full in _my_ house, Jeff Bransford, or I'll feed you to
+the hawgs. You take three doses, and that'll be a-plenty for you."
+
+Jeff put the steaming kettle on the rusty store stove, used as a
+waste-paper basket through the long summer. Touching off the papers with
+a match, he smashed an empty box and put it in. Then he went into the
+post-office corner and laid impious hands on the United States Mail.
+
+First he steamed open Lake's unregistered letter from the Land Office.
+It was merely a few typewritten lines, having no reference to the
+Butterbowl: "Enclosing the Plat of TP. 14 E. of First Guide Meridan
+East Range S. of 3d Standard Parallel South, as per request."
+
+He paused to consider. His roving eye lit on the wall, where the Annual
+Report of the Governor of New Mexico hung from a nail. "The very thing,"
+he said. Pasted in the report was a folded map of the Territory. This he
+cut out, refolded it till it slipped in the violated envelope, dabbed
+the flap neatly with Pappy's mucilage, and returned the letter to its
+proper pigeonhole.
+
+He replenished the fire with another box, subjected Lake's registered
+letter to the steaming process and opened it with delicate caution. It
+was the decision; it was in Lake's favor; and it went into the fire.
+Substituting for it the Plat of TP. 14 and the accompanying letter he
+resealed it with workmanlike neatness, and then restored it with a final
+inspection. "The editor sits on the madhouse floor, and pla-ays with the
+straws in his hair!" he murmured, beaming with complacent pride and
+reaching for the bottle.
+
+Pappy and Leo found him with his hands to the blaze, shivering. "I feel
+like I was going to have a chill," he complained. But with a few
+remedial measures he recuperated sufficiently to set off for Rainbow
+after supper.
+
+"Charley's ankle seems better," said Leo artlessly.
+
+"Don't you lay no stress on Charley's ankle," said Jeff, in a burst of
+confidence. "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be otherwise. Just
+let Charley's ankle slip your memory."
+
+The following day Bransford drew rein at Wes Pringle's shack and
+summoned him forth.
+
+"Mr. John Wesley Also Ran Pringle," he said impressively, "I have taken
+a horse-ride over here to put you through your cataclysm. Will you
+truthfully answer the rebuses I shall now propound to the best of your
+ability, and govern yourself accordingly till the surface of Hades
+congeals to glistening bergs, and that with no unseemly curiosity?"
+
+"Is it serious?" asked Pringle anxiously.
+
+"This is straight talk."
+
+Pringle took a long look and held up his hand. "I will," he said
+soberly.
+
+"John Wesley, do you or do you not believe Stephen W. Lake, of Agua
+Chiquite, to be a low-down, coniferous skunk by birth, inclination and
+training?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"John Wesley, do you or do you not possess the full confidence and
+affection of Felix, the night-hawk, otherwise known and designated as
+John Taylor, Junior, of Butterbowl, Esquire?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Do you, John Wesley Pringle, esteem me, Jeff Bransford, irrespective of
+color, sex or previous condition of turpitude, to be such a one as may
+be safely tied to when all the hitching-posts is done pulled up, and
+will you now promise to love, honor and obey me till the cows come home,
+or till further orders?"
+
+"I do--I will. And may God have mercy on my soul."
+
+"Here are your powders, then. Do you go and locate the above-mentioned
+and described Felix, and impart to him, under the strict seal of
+secrecy, these tidings, to wit, namely: That you have a presentiment,
+almost amounting to conviction, that the Butterbowl contest is decided
+in Lake's favor, but that your further presentiments is that said Lake
+will not use his prior right. If Taylor should get such a decision from
+the Land Office don't let him or Felix say a word to no one. If Mr. B.
+Body should ask, tell 'em 'twas a map, or land laws, or something.
+Moreover, said Felix he is not to stab, cut, pierce or otherwise
+mutilate said Lake, nor to wickedly, maliciously, feloniously and
+unlawfully fire at or upon the person of said Lake with any rifle,
+pistol, musket or gun, the same being then and there loaded with powder
+and with balls, shots, bullets or slugs of lead or other metal. You see
+to that, personal. I'd go to him myself, but he don't know me well
+enough to have confidence in my divinations.
+
+"You promulgate these prophecies as your sole personal device and
+construction--_sabe?_ Then, thirty days after Lake signs a receipt for
+his decision--and you will take steps to inform yourself of that--you
+sidle casually down to Roswell with old man Taylor and see that he puts
+preemption papers on the Butterbowl. Selah!"
+
+
+III
+
+The first knowledge Lake had of the state of affairs was when the Steam
+Pitchfork punchers informally extended to him the right hand of
+fellowship (hitherto withheld) under the impression that he had
+generously abstained from pushing home his vantage. When, in the
+mid-flood of his unaccountable popularity, the situation dawned upon
+him, he wisely held his peace. He was a victim of the accomplished fact.
+Taylor had already filed his preemption. So Lake reaped volunteer
+harvest of good-will, bearing his honors in graceful silence.
+
+On Lake's next trip to Escondido, Pappy Sanders laid aside his marked
+official hauteur. Lake stayed several days, praised the rosebush and Ma
+Sanders' cookery, and indulged in much leisurely converse with Pappy.
+Thereafter he had a private conference with Stratton, the Register of
+the Roswell Land Office. His suspicion fell quite naturally on Felix,
+and on Jeff as accessory during the fact.
+
+So it was that, when Jeff and Leo took in Roswell fair (where Jeff won a
+near-prize at the roping match), Hobart, the United States Marshal,
+came to their room. After introducing himself he said:
+
+"Mr. Stratton would like to see you, Mr. Bransford."
+
+"Why, that's all right!" said Jeff genially. "Some of my very great
+grandfolks was Dacotahs and I've got my name in 'Who's Sioux'--but I'm
+not proud! Trot him around. Exactly who is Stratton, anyhow?"
+
+"He's the Register of the Land Office--and he wants to see you there on
+very particular business. I'd go if I was you," said the Marshal
+significantly.
+
+"Oh, that way!" said Jeff. "Is this an arrest, or do you just give me
+this _in_-vite semi-officiously?"
+
+"You accuse yourself, sir. Were you expecting arrest? That sounds like a
+bad conscience."
+
+"Don't you worry about my conscience. 'If I've ever done anything I'm
+sorry for I'm glad of it.' Now this Stratton party--is he some aged and
+venerable? 'Cause, if he is, I waive ceremony and seek him in his lair
+at the witching hour of two this _tarde_. And if not, not."
+
+"He's old enough--even if there were no other reasons."
+
+"Never mind any other reasons. It shall never be said that I fail to
+reverence gray hairs. I'll be there."
+
+"I guess I'll just wait and see that you go," said the Marshal.
+
+"Have you got any papers for me?" asked Jeff politely.
+
+"No."
+
+"This is my room," said Jeff. "This is my fist. This is me. That is my
+door. Open it, Leo. Mr. Hobart, you will now make rapid forward motions
+with your feet, alternately, like a man removing his company from where
+it is not desired--or I'll go through you like a domesticated cyclone.
+See you at two, sharp!" Hobart obeyed. He was a good judge of men.
+
+Jeff closed the door. "'We went upon the battlefield,'" he said
+plaintively, "'before us and behind us, and every which-a-way we looked,
+we seen a roscerhinus.' We went into another field--behind us and before
+us, and every which-a-way we looked, we seen a rhinusorus. Mr. Lake has
+been evidently browsin' and pe-rusing around, and poor old Pappy, not
+being posted, has likely been narratin' about Charley's ankle and how I
+had a chill. Wough-ough!"
+
+"It looks that way," confessed Leo. "_Did_ you have a chill, Jeff?"
+
+Jeff's eyes crinkled. "Not so nigh as I am now. But shucks! I've been in
+worse emergencies, and I always emerged. Thanks be, I can always do my
+best when I have to. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we don't keep
+in practice! If I'd just come out straightforward and declared myself
+to Pappy, he'd 'a' tightened up his drawstrings and forgot all about my
+chill. But, no, well as I know from long experience that good old human
+nature's only too willin' to do the right thing and the fair thing--if
+somebody'll only tip it off to 'em--I must play a lone hand and not even
+call for my partner's best. Well, I'm goin' to ramify around and
+scrutinize this here Stratton's numbers, equipments and disposition.
+Meet me in the office at the fatal hour!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Marshal wore a mocking smile. Stratton, large, florid, well-fed and
+eminently respectable, turned in his revolving chair with a severe and
+majestic motion; adjusted his glasses in a prolonged and offensive
+examination, and frowned portentously.
+
+"Fine large day, isn't it?" observed Jeff affably. "Beautiful little
+city you have here." He sank into a chair. Smile and attitude were of
+pleased and sprightly anticipation.
+
+A faint flush showed beneath Stratton's neatly-trimmed mutton-chops.
+Such jaunty bearing was exasperating to offended virtue. "Ah--who is
+this other person, Mr. Hobart?"
+
+"Pardon my rudeness!" Jeff sprang up and bowed brisk apology. "Mr.
+Stratton, allow me to present Mr. Ballinger, a worthy representative of
+the Yellow Press. Mr. Stratton--Mr. Ballinger!"
+
+"I have a communication to make to you," said the displeased Mr.
+Stratton, in icy tones, "which, in your own interest, should be
+extremely private." The Marshal whispered to him; Stratton gave Leo a
+fiercely intimidating glare.
+
+"Communicate away," said Jeff airily. "Excommunicate, if you want to.
+Mr. Ballinger, as a citizen, is part owner of this office. If you want
+to bar him you'll have to change the venue to your private residence.
+And then I won't come."
+
+"Very well, sir!" Mr. Stratton rose, inflated his chest and threw back
+his head. His voice took on a steady roll. "Mr. Bransford, you stand
+under grave displeasure of the law! You are grievously suspected of
+being cognizant of, if not actually accessory to, the robbery of the
+United States Mail by John Taylor, Junior, at Escondido, on the
+eighteenth day of last October. You may not be aware of it, but you have
+an excellent chance of serving a term in the penitentiary!"
+
+Jeff pressed his hands between his knees and leaned forward. "I'm sure
+I'd never be satisfied there," he said, with conviction. His white teeth
+flashed in an ingratiatory smile. "But why suspect young John?--why
+not old John?" He paused, looking at the Register attentively.
+"H'm!--you're from Indiana, I believe, Mr. Stratton?" he said.
+
+"The elder Taylor, on the day in question, is fully accounted for," said
+Hobart. "Young Taylor claims to have passed the night at Willow Springs,
+alone. But no one saw him from breakfast time the seventeenth till noon
+on the nineteenth."
+
+"He rarely ever has any one with him when he's alone. That may account
+for them not seeing him at Willow," suggested Jeff. He did not look at
+Hobart, but regarded Stratton with an air of deep meditation.
+
+The Register paced the floor slowly, ponderously, with an impressive
+pause at each turn, tapping his left hand with his eyeglass to score his
+points. "He had ample time to go to Escondido and return. The envelope
+in which Mr. Lake's copy of this office's decision in the Lake-Taylor
+contest was enclosed has been examined. It bears unmistakable signs of
+having been tampered with." Turning to mark the effect of these tactics,
+he became aware of his victim's contemplative gaze. It disconcerted him.
+He resumed his pacing. Jeff followed him with a steady eye.
+
+"In the same mail I sent Mr. Lake another letter. The envelope was
+unfortunately destroyed, Mr. Lake suspecting nothing. A map had been
+substituted for its contents, and they, in turn, were substituted for
+the decision in the registered letter, with the evident intention of
+depriving Mr. Lake of his prior right to file."
+
+"By George! It sounds probable." Jeff laughed derisively. "So that's it!
+And here we all thought Lake let it go out of giddy generosity! My
+stars, but won't he get the horse-smile when the boys find out?"
+
+Stratton controlled himself with an effort. "We have decided not to push
+the case against you if you will tell what you know," he began.
+
+Jeff lifted his brows. "_We?_ And who's _we_? You two? I should have
+thought this was a post-office lay."
+
+"We are investigating the affair," explained Hobart.
+
+"I see! As private individuals. Yes, yes. Does Lake pay you by the day
+or by the job?"
+
+Stratton, blazing with anger, smote his palm heavily with his fist.
+"Young man! Young man! Your insolence is unbearable! We are trying to
+spare you--as you had no direct interest in the matter and doubtless
+concealed your guilty knowledge through a mistaken and distorted sense
+of honor. But you tempt us--you tempt us! You don't seem to realize the
+precarious situation in which you stand."
+
+"What I don't see," said Jeff, in puzzled tones, "is why you bother to
+spare me at all. If you can prove this, why don't you cinch me and Felix
+both? Why do you want me to tell you what you already know? And if you
+can't prove it--who the hell cares what you suspect?"
+
+"We will arrest you," said Stratton thickly, "just as soon as we can
+make out the papers!"
+
+"Turn your wolf loose, you four-flushers! You may make me trouble, but
+you can't prove anything. Speaking of trouble--how about you, Mr.
+Stratton?" As a spring leaps, released from highest tension, face and
+body and voice flashed from passive indolence to sudden, startling
+attack. His arm lashed swiftly out as if to deliver the swordsman's
+stabbing thrust; the poised body followed up to push the stroke home.
+"You think your secret safe, don't you? It's been some time ago."
+
+Words only--yet it might have been a very sword's point past Stratton's
+guard. For the Register flinched, staggered, his arrogant face grew
+mottled, his arm went up. He fell back a step, silent, quivering,
+leaning heavily on a chair. The Marshal gave him a questioning glance.
+Jeff kept on.
+
+"You're prominent in politics, business, society, the church. You've a
+family to think of. It's up to you, Mr. Stratton. Is it worth while? Had
+we better drop it with a dull, sickening thud?"
+
+Stratton collapsed into the chair, a shapeless bundle, turning a
+shriveled, feeble face to the Marshal in voiceless imploring.
+
+Unhesitating, Hobart put a hand on his shoulder. "That's all right, old
+man! We won't give you away. Brace up!" He nodded Jeff to the door. "You
+win!" he said. Leo followed on tiptoe.
+
+"Why, the poor old duck!" said Jeff remorsefully, in the passage. "Wish
+I hadn't come down on him so hard. I overdid it that time. Still, if I
+hadn't----"
+
+At the Hondo Bridge Jeff looked back and waved a hand. "Good-by, old
+town! Now we go, gallopy-trot, gallopy, gallopy-trot!" He sang, and the
+ringing hoofs kept time and tune,
+
+     "Florence Mehitabel Genevieve Jane,
+     She came home in the wind an' the rain,
+     She came home in the rain an' the snow;
+     'Ain't a-goin' to leave my home any mo'!'"
+
+"Jeff," said the mystified Ballinger, spurring up beside him, "what has
+the gray-haired Register done? Has murder stained his hands with gore?"
+
+Jeff raised his bridle hand.
+
+"Gee! Leo, I don't know! I just taken a chance!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL
+
+     "When I bend my head low and listen at the ground,
+     I can hear vague voices that I used to know,
+     Stirring in dim places, faint and restless sound;
+     I remember how it was when the grass began to grow."
+
+                         --_Song of The Wandering Dust_,
+                              ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH.
+
+
+The pines thinned as she neared Rainbow Rim, the turfy glades grew
+wider; she had glimpses of open country beyond--until, at last, crossing
+a little spit of high ground, she came to the fairest spot in all her
+voyage of exploration and discovery. She sank down on a fallen log with
+a little sigh of delight.
+
+The steep bank of a little canyon broke away at her feet--a canyon which
+here marked the frontier of the pines, its farther side overgrown with
+mahogany bush and chaparral--a canyon that fell in long, sinuous curves
+from the silent mystery of forest on Rainbow Crest behind her, to widen
+just below into a rolling land, parked with green-black powderpuffs of
+juniper and cedar; and so passed on to mystery again, twisting away
+through the folds of the low and bare gray hills to the westward, ere
+the last stupendous plunge over the Rim to the low desert, a mile toward
+the level of the waiting sea.
+
+Facing the explorer, across the little canyon, a clear spring bubbled
+from the hillside and fell with pleasant murmur and tinkle to a pool
+below, fringed with lush emerald--a spring massed about with wild
+grapevine, shining reeds of arrow-weed; a tangle of grateful greenery,
+jostling eagerly for the life-giving water. Draped in clinging vines,
+slim acacias struggled up through the jungle; the exquisite fragrance of
+their purple bells gave a final charm to the fairy chasm.
+
+But the larger vision! The nearer elfin beauty dwindled, was lost,
+forgotten. Afar, through a narrow cleft in the gray westward hills, the
+explorer's eye leaped out over a bottomless gulf to a glimpse of shining
+leagues midway of the desert greatness--an ever-widening triangle that
+rose against the peaceful west to long foothill reaches, to a misty
+mountain parapet, far-beckoning, whispering of secrets, things dreamed
+of, unseen, beyond the framed and slender arc of vision. A land of
+enchantment and mystery, decked with strong barbaric colors, blue and
+red and yellow, brown and green and gray; whose changing ebb and flow,
+by some potent sorcery of atmosphere, distance and angle, altered,
+daily, hourly; deepening, fading, combining into new and fantastic
+lines and shapes, to melt again as swiftly to others yet more
+bewildering.
+
+The explorer? It may be mentioned in passing that any other would have
+found that fairest prospect even more wonderful than did the explorer,
+Miss Ellinor Hoffman. We will attempt no clear description of Miss
+Ellinor Hoffman. Dusky-beautiful she was; crisp, fresh and sparkling;
+tall, vigorous, active, strong. Yet she was more than merely
+beautiful--warm and frank and young; brave and kind and true. Perhaps,
+even more than soft curves, lips, glory of hair or bewildering eyes, or
+all together, her chiefest charm was her manner, her frank friendliness.
+Earth was sweet to her, sweeter for her.
+
+This by way of aside and all to no manner of good. You have no picture
+of her in your mind. Remember only that she was young--
+
+     "The stars to drink from and the sky to dance on"
+
+--young and happy, and therefore beautiful; that the sun was shining in
+a cloudless sky, the south wind sweet and fresh, buds in the willow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The peace was rent and shivered by strange sounds, as of a giant falling
+downstairs. There was a crash of breaking boughs beyond the canyon, a
+glint of color, a swift black body hurtling madly through the
+shrubbery. The girl shrank back. There was no time for thought, hardly
+for alarm. On the farther verge the bushes parted; an apparition hurled
+arching through the sunshine, down the sheer hill--a glorious and
+acrobatic horse, his black head low between his flashing feet; red
+nostrils wide with rage and fear; foam flecks white on the black
+shoulders; a tossing mane; a rider, straight and tall, superb--to all
+seeming an integral part of the horse, pitch he never so wildly.
+
+The girl held her breath through the splintered seconds. She thrilled at
+the shock and storm of them, straining muscles and white hoofs,
+lurching, stumbling, sliding, lunging, careening in perilous arcs. She
+saw stones that rolled with them or bounded after; a sombrero whirled
+above the dust and tumult like a dilatory parachute; a six-shooter
+jolted up into the air. Through the dust-clouds there were glimpses of a
+watchful face, hair blown back above it; a broken rein snapped beside
+it, saddle-strings streamed out behind; a supple body that swung from
+curve to easy curve against shock and plunge, that swayed and poised and
+clung, and held its desperate dominion still. The saddle slipped
+forward; with a motion incredibly swift, as a hat is whipped off in a
+gust of wind, it whisked over withers and neck and was under the furious
+feet. Swifter, the rider! Cat-quick, he swerved, lit on his feet, leaped
+aside.
+
+Alas, oh, rider beyond compare, undefeated champion, Pride of Rainbow!
+Alas, that such thing should be recorded! He leaped aside to shun the
+black frantic death at his shoulder; his feet were in the treacherous
+vines: he toppled, grasped vainly at an acacia, catapulted out and down,
+head first; so lit, crumpled and fell with a prodigious splash into the
+waters of the pool! _Ay di mi, Alhama!_
+
+The blankets lay strewn along the hill; but observe that the long lead
+rope of the hackamore (a "hackamore," properly _jaquima_, is, for your
+better understanding, merely a rope halter) was coiled at the
+saddle-horn, held there by a stout hornstring. As the black reached the
+level the saddle was at his heels. To kick was obvious, to go away not
+less so; but this new terror clung to the maddened creature in his
+frenzied flight--between his legs, in the air, at his heels, his hip,
+his neck. A low tree leaned from the hillside; the aerial saddle caught
+in the forks of it, the bronco's head was jerked round, he was pulled to
+his haunches, overthrown; but the tough hornstring broke, the freed coil
+snapped out at him; he scrambled up and bunched his glorious muscles in
+a vain and furious effort to outrun the rope that dragged at his heels,
+and so passed from sight beyond the next curve.
+
+Waist-deep in the pool sat the hatless horseman, or perhaps horseless
+horseman were the juster term, steeped in a profound calm. That last
+phrase has a familiar sound; Mark Twain's, doubtless--but, all things
+considered, steeped is decidedly the word. One gloved hand was in the
+water, the other in the muddy margin of the pool: he watched the final
+evolution of his late mount with meditative interest. The saddle was
+freed at last, but its ex-occupant still sat there, lost in thought.
+Blood trickled, unnoted, down his forehead.
+
+The last stone followed him into the pool; the echoes died on the hills.
+The spring resumed its pleasant murmur, but the tinkle of its fall was
+broken by the mimic waves of the pool. Save for this troubled sloshing
+against the banks, the slow-settling dust and the contemplative bust of
+the one-time centaur, no trace was left to mark the late disastrous
+invasion.
+
+The invader's dreamy and speculative gaze followed the dust of the
+trailing rope. He opened his lips twice or thrice, and spoke, after
+several futile attempts, in a voice mild, but clearly earnest:
+
+"Oh, you little eohippus!"
+
+The spellbound girl rose. Her hand was at her throat; her eyes were big
+and round, and her astonished lips were drawn to a round, red O.
+
+Sharp ears heard the rustle of her skirts, her soft gasp of amazement.
+The merman turned his head briskly, his eye met hers. One gloved hand
+brushed his brow; a broad streak of mud appeared there, over which the
+blood meandered uncertainly. He looked up at the maid in silence: in
+silence the maid looked down at him. He nodded, with a pleasant smile.
+
+"Good-morning!" he said casually.
+
+At this cheerful greeting, the astounded maid was near to tumbling
+after, like Jill of the song.
+
+"Er--good-morning!" she gasped.
+
+Silence. The merman reclined gently against the bank with a comfortable
+air of satisfaction. The color came flooding back to her startled face.
+
+"Oh, are you hurt?" she cried.
+
+A puzzled frown struggled through the mud.
+
+"Hurt?" he echoed. "Who, me?... Why, no--leastwise, I guess not."
+
+He wiggled his fingers, raised his arms, wagged his head doubtfully and
+slowly, first sidewise and then up and down; shook himself guardedly,
+and finally raised tentative boot-tips to the surface. After this
+painstaking inspection he settled contentedly back again.
+
+"Oh, no, I'm all right," he reported. "Only I lost a big, black, fine,
+young, nice horse somehow. You ain't seen nothing of him, have you?"
+
+"Then why don't you get out?" she demanded. "I believe you are hurt."
+
+"Get out? Why, yes, ma'am. Certainly. Why not?" But the girl was already
+beginning to clamber down, grasping the shrubbery to aid in the descent.
+
+Now the bank was steep and sheer. So the merman rose, tactfully
+clutching the grapevines behind him as a plausible excuse for turning
+his back. It followed as a corollary of this generous act that he must
+needs be lame, which he accordingly became. As this mishap became acute,
+his quick eyes roved down the canyon, where he saw what gave him pause;
+and he groaned sincerely under his breath. For the black horse had taken
+to the parked uplands, the dragging rope had tangled in a snaggy
+tree-root, and he was tracing weary circles in bootless effort to be
+free.
+
+Tactful still, the dripping merman hobbled to the nearest shade
+wherefrom the luckless black horse should be invisible, eclipsed by the
+intervening ridge, and there sank down in a state of exhaustion, his
+back to a friendly tree-trunk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+FIRST AID
+
+     "Oh woman! in our hours of ease
+     Uncertain, coy and hard to please;
+     But seen too oft, familiar with thy face
+     We first endure, then pity, then embrace!"
+
+
+A moment later the girl was beside him, pity in her eyes.
+
+"Let me see that cut on your head," she said. She dropped on her knee
+and parted the hair with a gentle touch.
+
+"Why, you're real!" breathed the injured near-centaur, beaming with
+wonder and gratification.
+
+She sat down limply and gave way to wild laughter.
+
+"So are you!" she retorted. "Why, that is exactly what I was thinking! I
+thought maybe I was asleep and having an extraordinary dream. That wound
+on your head is not serious, if that's all." She brushed back a wisp of
+hair that blew across her eyes.
+
+"I hurt this head just the other day," observed the bedraggled victim,
+as one who has an assortment of heads from which to choose. He pulled
+off his soaked gloves and regarded them ruefully. "'Them that go down to
+deep waters!' That was a regular triumph of matter over mind, wasn't
+it?"
+
+"It's a wonder you're alive! My! How frightened I was! Aren't you
+hurt--truly? Ribs or anything?"
+
+The patient's elbows made a convulsive movement to guard the threatened
+ribs.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am. I ain't hurt a bit--indeed I ain't," he said truthfully;
+but his eyes had the languid droop of one who says the thing that is
+not. "Don't you worry none about me--not one bit. Sorry I frightened
+you. That black horse now----" He stopped to consider fully the case of
+the black horse. "Well, you see, ma'am, that black horse, he ain't
+exactly right plumb gentle." His eyelids drooped again.
+
+The girl considered. She believed him--both that he was not badly hurt
+and that the black horse was not exactly gentle. And her suspicions were
+aroused. His slow drawl was getting slower; his cowboyese broader--a
+mode of speech quite inconsistent with that first sprightly remark about
+the little eohippus. What manner of cowboy was this, from whose tongue a
+learned scientific term tripped spontaneously in so stressful a
+moment--who quoted scraps of the litany unaware? Also, her own eyes were
+none of the slowest. She had noted that the limping did not begin until
+he was clear of the pool. Still, that might happen if one were excited;
+but this one had been singularly calm, "more than usual ca'm," she
+mentally quoted.... Of course, if he really were badly hurt--which she
+didn't believe one bit--a little bruised and jarred, maybe--the only
+thing for her to do would be to go back to camp and get help.... That
+meant the renewal of Lake's hateful attentions and--for the other girls,
+the sharing of her find.... She stole another look at her find and
+thrilled with all the pride of the discoverer.... No doubt he was shaken
+and bruised, after all. He must be suffering. What a splendid rider he
+was!
+
+"What made you so absurd? Why didn't you get out of the water, then, if
+you are not hurt?" she snapped suddenly.
+
+The drooped lids raised; brown eyes looked steadily into brown eyes.
+
+"I didn't want to wake up," he said.
+
+The candor of this explanation threw her, for the moment, into a vivid
+and becoming confusion. The dusky roses leaped to her cheeks; the long,
+dark lashes quivered and fell. Then she rose to the occasion.
+
+"And how about the little eohippus?" she demanded. "That doesn't seem to
+go well with some of your other talk."
+
+"Oh!" He regarded her with pained but unflinching innocence. "The
+Latin, you mean? Why, ma'am, that's most all the Latin I know--that and
+some more big words in that song. I learned that song off of Frank John,
+just like a poll-parrot."
+
+"Sing it! And eohippus isn't Latin. It's Greek."
+
+"Why, ma'am, I can't, just now--I'm so muddy; but I'll tell it to you.
+Maybe I'll sing it to you some other time." A sidelong glance
+accompanied this little suggestion. The girl's face was blank and
+non-committal; so he resumed: "It goes like this:
+
+     "Said the little Eohippus,
+       'I'm going to be a horse,
+     And on my middle fingernails
+       To run my earthly course'----
+
+"No; that wasn't the first. It begins:
+
+     "There was once a little animal
+       No bigger than a fox,
+     And on five toes he scampered----
+
+"Of course you know, ma'am--Frank John he told me about it--that horses
+were little like that, 'way back. And this one he set his silly head
+that he was going to be a really-truly horse, like the song says. And
+folks told him he couldn't--couldn't possibly be done, nohow. And sure
+enough he did. It's a foolish song, really. I only sing parts of it when
+I feel like that--like it couldn't be done and I was going to do it, you
+know. The boys call it my song. Look here, ma'am!" He fished in his vest
+pocket and produced tobacco and papers, matches--last of all, a tiny
+turquoise horse, an inch long. "I had a jeweler-man put five toes on his
+feet once to make him be a little eohippus. Going to make a watch-charm
+of him sometime. He's a lucky little eohippus, I think. Peso gave him to
+me when--never mind when. Peso's a Mescalero Indian, you know, chief of
+police at the agency." He gingerly dropped the little horse into her
+eager palm.
+
+It was a singularly grotesque and angular little beast, high-stepping,
+high-headed, with a level stare, at once complacent and haughty. Despite
+the first unprepossessing rigidity of outline, there was somehow a
+sprightly air, something endearing, in the stiff, purposed stride, the
+alert, inquiring ears, the stern and watchful eye. Each tiny hoof was
+faintly graven to semblance of five tinier toes; there, the work showed
+fresh.
+
+"The cunning little monster!" Prison grime was on him; she groomed and
+polished at his dingy sides until the wonderful color shone out
+triumphant. "What is it that makes him such a dear? Oh, I know. It's
+something--well, childlike, you know. Think of the grown-up child that
+toiled with pride and joy at the making of him--dear me, how many
+lifetimes since!--and fondly put him by as a complete horse." She held
+him up in the sun: the ingrate met her caress with the same obdurate and
+indomitable glare. She laughed her rapturous delight: "There! How much
+better you look! Oh, you darling! Aren't you absurd? Straight-backed,
+stiff-legged, thick-necked, square-headed--and that ridiculously baleful
+eye! It's too high up and too far forward, you know--and your ears are
+too big--and you have such a malignant look! Never mind; now that you're
+all nice and clean, I'm going to reward you." Her lips just brushed
+him--the lucky little eohippus.
+
+The owner of the lucky little horse was not able to repress one swift,
+dismal glance at his own vast dishevelment, nor, as his shrinking hands,
+entirely of their own volition, crept stealthily to hiding, the
+slightest upward rolling of a hopeful eye toward the leaping waters of
+the spring; but, if one might judge from her sedate and matter-of-fact
+tones, that eloquent glance was wasted on the girl.
+
+"You ought to take better care of him, you know," she said as she
+restored the little monster to his owner. Then she laughed. "Hasn't he a
+fierce and warlike appearance, though?"
+
+"Sure. That's resolution. Look at those legs!" said the owner fondly.
+"He spurns the ground. He's going somewheres. He's going to be a horse!
+And them ears--one cocked forward and the other back, strictly on the
+_cuidado_! He'll make it. He'll certainly do to take along! Yes, ma'am,
+I'll take right good care of him." He regarded the homely beast with
+awe; he swathed him in cigarette papers with tenderest care. "I'll leave
+him at home after this. He might get hurt. I might sometime want to give
+him to--somebody."
+
+The girl sprang up.
+
+"Now I must get some water and wash that head," she announced briskly.
+
+"Oh, no--I can't let you do that. I can walk. I ain't hurt a bit, I keep
+telling you." In proof of which he walked to the pool with a palpably
+clever assumption of steadiness. The girl fluttered solicitous at his
+elbow. Then she ran ahead, climbed up to the spring and extended a firm,
+cool hand, which he took shamelessly, and so came to the fairy
+waterfall.
+
+Here he made himself presentable as to face and hands. It is just
+possible there was a certain expectancy in his eye as he neared the
+close of these labors; but if there were it passed unnoted. The girl
+bathed the injured head with her handkerchief, and brushed back his hair
+with a dainty caressing motion that thrilled him until the color rose
+beneath the tan. There was a glint of gray in the wavy black hair, she
+noted.
+
+She stepped back to regard her handiwork. "Now you look better!" she
+said approvingly. Then, slightly flurried, not without a memory of a
+previous and not dissimilar remark of hers, she was off up the hill:
+whence, despite his shocked protest, she brought back the lost gun and
+hat.
+
+Her eyes were sparkling when she returned, her face glowing. Ignoring
+his reproachful gaze, she wrung out her handkerchief, led the
+patient firmly down the hill and to his saddle, made him trim off a
+saddle-string, and bound the handkerchief to the wound. She fitted
+the sombrero gently.
+
+"There! Don't this head feel better now?" she queried gayly, with fine
+disregard for grammar. "And now what? Won't you come back to camp with
+me? Mr. Lake will be glad to put you up or to let you have a horse. Do
+you live far away? I do hope you are not one of those Rosebud men. Mr.
+La----" She bit her speech off midword.
+
+"No men there except this Mr. Lake?" asked the cowboy idly.
+
+"Oh, yes; there's Mr. Herbert--he's gone riding with Lettie--and Mr.
+White; but it was Mr. Lake who got up the camping party. Mother and Aunt
+Lot, and a crowd of us girls--La Luz girls, you know. Mother and I are
+visiting Mr. Lake's sister. He's going to give us a masquerade ball when
+we get back, next week."
+
+The cowboy looked down his nose for consultation, and his nose gave a
+meditative little tweak.
+
+"What Lake is it? There's some several Lakes round here. Is it Lake of
+Aqua Chiquite--wears his hair decollete; talks like he had a washboard
+in his throat; tailor-made face; walks like a duck on stilts; general
+sort of pouter-pigeon effect?"
+
+At this envenomed description, Miss Ellinor Hoffman promptly choked.
+
+"I don't know anything about your Aqua Chiquite. I never heard of the
+place before. He is a banker in Arcadia. He keeps a general store there.
+You must know him, surely." So far her voice was rather stern and
+purposely resentful, as became Mr. Lake's guest; but there were
+complications, rankling memories of Mr. Lake--of unwelcome attentions
+persistently forced upon her. She spoiled the rebuke by adding tartly,
+"But I think he is the man you mean!" and felt her wrongs avenged.
+
+The cowboy's face cleared.
+
+"Well, I don't use Arcadia much, you see. I mostly range down Rainbow
+River. Arcadia folks--why, they're mostly newcomers, health-seekers and
+people just living on their incomes--not working folks much, except the
+railroaders and lumbermen. Now about getting home. You see, ma'am, some
+of the boys are riding down that way"--he jerked his thumb to indicate
+the last flight of the imperfectly gentle horse--"and they're right apt
+to see my runaway eohippus and sure to see the rope-drag; so they'll
+likely amble along the back track to see how much who's hurt. So I guess
+I'd better stay here. They may be along most any time. Thank you kindly,
+just the same. Of course, if they don't come at all----Is your camp
+far?"
+
+"Not--not very," said Ellinor. The mere fact was that Miss Ellinor had
+set out ostensibly for a sketching expedition with another girl, had
+turned aside to explore, and exploring had fetched a circuit that had
+left her much closer to her starting-place than to her goal. He
+misinterpreted the slight hesitation.
+
+"Well, ma'am, thank you again; but I mustn't be keeping you longer. I
+really ought to see you safe back to your camp; but--you'll
+understand--under the circumstances--you'll excuse me?"
+
+He did not want to implicate Mr. Lake, so he took a limping step forward
+to justify his rudeness.
+
+"And you hardly able to walk? Ridiculous! What I ought to do is to go
+back to camp and get some one--get Mr. White to help you." Thus, at once
+accepting his unspoken explanation, and offering her own apology in
+turn, she threw aside the air of guarded hostility that had marked the
+last minutes and threw herself anew into this joyous adventure.
+"When--or if--your friends find you, won't it hurt you to ride?" she
+asked, and smiled deliberate encouragement.
+
+"I can be as modest as anybody when there's anything to be modest about;
+but in this case I guess I'll now declare that I can ride anything that
+a saddle will stay on.... I reckon," he added reflectively, "the boys'll
+have right smart to say about me being throwed."
+
+"But you weren't thrown! You rode magnificently!" Her eyes flashed
+admiration.
+
+"Yes'm. That's what I hoped you'd say," said the admired one
+complacently. "Go on, ma'am. Say it again."
+
+"It was splendid! The saddle turned--that's all!"
+
+He slowly surveyed the scene of his late exploit.
+
+"Ye--es, that was some riding--for a while," he admitted. "But you see,
+that saddle now, scarred up that way--why, they'll think the eohippus
+wasted me and then dragged the saddle off under a tree. Leastways,
+they'll say they think so, frequent. Best not to let on and to make no
+excuses. It'll be easier that way. We're great on guying here. That's
+most all the fun we have. We sure got this joshing game down fine. Just
+wondering what all the boys'd say--that was why I didn't get out of the
+water at first, before--before I thought I was asleep, you know."
+
+"So you'll actually tell a lie to keep from being thought a liar? I'm
+disappointed in you."
+
+"Why, ma'am, I won't say anything. They'll do the talking."
+
+"It'll be deceitful, just the same," she began, and checked herself
+suddenly. A small twinge struck her at the thought of poor Maud, really
+sketching on Thumb Butte, and now disconsolately wondering what had
+become of lunch and fellow-artist; but she quelled this pang with a sage
+thought of the greatest good to the greatest number, and clapped her
+hands in delight. "Oh, what a silly I am, to be sure! I've got a lunch
+basket up there, but I forgot all about it in the excitement. I'm sure
+there's plenty for two. Shall I bring it down to you or can you climb up
+if I help you? There's water in the canteen--and it's beautiful up
+there."
+
+"I can make it, I guess," said the invited guest--the consummate and
+unblushing hypocrite. Make it he did, with her strong hand to aid; and
+the glen rang to the laughter of them. While behind them, all unnoted,
+Johnny Dines reined up on the hillside; took one sweeping glance at that
+joyous progress, the scarred hillside, the saddle and the dejected
+eohippus in the background; grinned comprehension, and discreetly
+withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MAXWELTON BRAES
+
+     "Oh the song--the song in the blood!
+     Magic walks the forest; there's bewitchment on the air--
+     Spring is at the flood!"
+
+                         --_The Gypsy Heart._
+
+     "Well, sir, this here feller, he lit a cigarette an' throwed
+     away the match, an' it fell in a powder kaig; an' do you know,
+     more'n half that powder burned up before they could put it out!
+     Yes, sir!"--WILDCAT THOMPSON.
+
+
+Ellinor opened her basket and spread its tempting wares with pretty
+hostly care--or is there such a word as hostessly?
+
+"There! All ready, Mr.----I declare, this is too absurd! We don't even
+know each other's names!" Her conscious eye fell upon the ampleness of
+the feast--amazing, since it purported to have been put up for one
+alone; and her face lit up with mischievous delight. She curtsied. "If
+you please, I'm the Ultimate Consumer!"
+
+He rose, bowing gravely.
+
+"I am the Personal Devil. Glad to meet you."
+
+"Oh! I've heard of you!" remarked the Ultimate Consumer sweetly. She sat
+down and extended her hand across the spotless linen. "Mr. Lake
+says----"
+
+The Personal Devil flushed. It was not because of the proffered hand,
+which he took unhesitatingly and held rather firmly. The blush was
+unmistakably caused by anger.
+
+"There is no connection whatever," he stated, grimly enough, "between
+the truth and Mr. Lake's organs of speech."
+
+"Oh!" cried the Ultimate Consumer triumphantly. "So you're Mr. Beebe?"
+
+"Bransford--Jeff Bransford," corrected the Personal Devil crustily. He
+wilfully relapsed to his former slipshod speech. "Beebe, he's gone to
+the Pecos work, him and Ballinger. Mr. John Wesley Also-Ran Pringle's
+gone to Old Mexico to bring back another bunch of black, long-horned
+Chihuahuas. You now behold before you the last remaining Rose of
+Rosebud. But, why Beebe?"
+
+"Why does Mr. Lake hate all of you so, Mr. Bransford?"
+
+"Because we are infamous scoundrels. Why Beebe?"
+
+"I can't eat with one hand, Mr. Bransford," she said demurely. He looked
+at the prisoned hand with a start and released it grudgingly. "Help
+yourself," said his hostess cheerfully. "There's sandwiches, and roast
+beef and olives, for a mild beginning."
+
+"Why Beebe?" he said doggedly.
+
+"Help yourself to the salad and then please pass it over this way. Thank
+you."
+
+"Why Beebe?"
+
+"Oh, very well then! Because of the little eohippus, you know--and other
+things you said."
+
+"I see!" said the aggrieved Bransford. "Because I'm not from Ohio, like
+Beebe, I'm not supposed----"
+
+"Oh, if you're going to be fussy! I'm from California myself, Mr.
+Bransford. Out in the country at that. Don't let's quarrel, please. We
+were having such a lovely time. And I'll tell you a secret. It's
+ungrateful of me, and I ought not to; but I don't care--I don't like Mr.
+Lake much since we came on this trip. And I don't believe----" She
+paused, pinkly conscious of the unconventional statement involved in
+this sudden unbelief.
+
+"----what Lake says about us?" A much-mollified Bransford finished the
+sentence for her.
+
+She nodded. Then, to change the subject:
+
+"You do speak cowboy talk one minute--and all booky, polite and proper
+the next, you know. Why?"
+
+"Bad associations," said Bransford ambiguously. "Also for 'tis my nature
+to, as little dogs they do delight to bark and bite. That beef sure
+tastes like more."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And now you may smoke while I pack up," announced the girl when
+dessert was over, at long last. "And please, there is something I want
+to ask you about. Will you tell me truly?"
+
+"Um--you sing?"
+
+"Yes--a little."
+
+"If you will sing for me afterward?"
+
+"Certainly. With pleasure."
+
+"All right, then. What's the story about?"
+
+Ellinor gave him her eyes. "Did you rob the post-office at
+Escondido--really?"
+
+Now it might well be embarrassing to be asked if you had committed a
+felony; but there was that behind the words of this naive query--in
+look, in tone, in mental attitude--an unflinching and implicit faith
+that, since he had seen fit to do this thing, it must needs have been
+the right and wise thing to do, which stirred the felon's pulses to a
+pleasant flutter and caused a certain tough and powerful muscle to thump
+foolishly at his ribs. The delicious intimacy, the baseless faith, was
+sweet to him.
+
+"Sure, I did!" he answered lightly. "Lake is one talkative little man,
+isn't he? Fie, fie! But, shucks! What can you expect? 'The beast will do
+after his kind.'"
+
+"And you'll tell me about it?"
+
+"After I smoke. Got to study up some plausible excuses, you know."
+
+She studied him as she packed. It was a good face--lined, strong,
+expressive, vivid; gay, resolute, confident, alert--reckless, perhaps.
+There were lines of it disused, fallen to abeyance. What was well
+with the man had prospered; what was ill with him had faded and
+dimmed. He was not a young man--thirty-seven, thirty-eight--(she was
+twenty-four)--but there was an unquenchable boyishness about him,
+despite the few frosty hairs at his temples. He bore his hard years
+jauntily: youth danced in his eyes. The explorer nodded to herself,
+well pleased. He was interesting--different.
+
+The tale suffered from Bransford's telling, as any tale will suffer when
+marred by the inevitable, barbarous modesty of its hero. It was a long
+story, cozily confidential; and there were interruptions. The sun was
+low ere it was done.
+
+"Now the song," said Jeff, "and then----" He did not complete the
+sentence; his face clouded.
+
+"What shall I sing?"
+
+"How can I tell? What you will. What can I know about good songs--or
+anything else?" responded Bransford in sudden moodiness and
+dejection--for, after the song, the end of everything! He flinched at
+the premonition of irrevocable loss.
+
+The girl made no answer. This is what she sang. No; you shall not be
+told of her voice. Perhaps there is a voice that you remember, that
+echoes to you through the dusty years. How would you like to describe
+that?
+
+     "Oh, Sandy has monie and Sandy has land,
+     And Sandy has housen, sae fine and sae grand--
+     But I'd rather hae Jamie, wi' nocht in his hand,
+     Than Sandy, wi' all of his housen and land.
+
+     "My father looks sulky; my mither looks soor;
+     They gloom upon Jamie because he is poor.
+     I lo'e them baith dearly, as a docther should do;
+     But I lo'e them not half sae weel, dear Jamie, as you!
+
+     "I sit at my cribbie, I spin at my wheel;
+     I think o' the laddie that lo'es me sae weel.
+     Oh, he had but a saxpence, he brak it in twa,
+     And he gied me the half o't ere he gaed awa'!
+
+     "He said: 'Lo'e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa'!'
+     He said: 'Lo'e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa'!'
+     Bland simmer is cooming; cauld winter's awa',
+     And I'll wed wi' Jamie in spite o' them a'!"
+
+Jeff's back was to a tree, his hat over his eyes. He pushed it up.
+
+"Thank you," he said; and then, quite directly: "Are you rich?"
+
+"Not--very," said Ellinor, a little breathless at the blunt query.
+
+"I'm going to be rich," said Jeff steadily.
+
+"'I'm going to be a horse,' quoth the little eohippus." The girl
+retorted saucily, though secretly alarmed at the import of this
+examination.
+
+"Ex-actly. So that's settled. What is your name?"
+
+"Hoffman."
+
+"Where do you live, Hoffman?"
+
+"Ellinor," supplemented the girl.
+
+"Ellinor, then. Where do you live, Ellinor?"
+
+"In New York--just now. Not in town. Upstate. On a farm. You see,
+grandfather's growing old--and he wanted father to come back."
+
+"New York's not far," said Jeff.
+
+A sudden panic seized the girl. What next? In swift, instinctive
+self-defense she rose and tripped to the tree where lay her neglected
+sketch-book, bent over--and started back with a little cry of alarm.
+With a spring and a rush, Jeff was at her side, caught her up and glared
+watchfully at bush and shrub and tufted grass.
+
+"Mr. Bransford! Put me down!"
+
+"What was it? A rattlesnake?"
+
+"A snake? What an idea! I just noticed how late it was. I must go."
+
+Crestfallen, sheepishly, Mr. Bransford put her down, thrust his hands
+into his pockets, tilted his chin and whistled an aggravating little
+trill from the Rye twostep.
+
+"Mr. Bransford!" said Ellinor haughtily.
+
+Mr. Bransford's face expressed patient attention.
+
+"Are you lame?"
+
+Mr. Bransford's eye estimated the distance covered during the recent
+snake episode, and then gave to Miss Hoffman a look of profound respect.
+His shoulders humped up slightly; his head bowed to the stroke: he stood
+upon one foot and traced the Rainbow brand in the dust with the other.
+
+"I told you all along I wasn't hurt," he said aggrieved. "Didn't I,
+now?"
+
+"Are you lame?" she repeated severely, ignoring his truthful saying.
+
+"'Not--very.'" The quotation marks were clearly audible.
+
+"Are you lame at all?"
+
+"No, ma'am--not what you might call really lame. Uh--no, ma'am."
+
+"And you deceived me like that!" Indignation checked her. "Oh, I am so
+disappointed in you! That was a fine, manly thing for you to do!"
+
+"It was such a lovely time," observed the culprit doggedly. "And such a
+chance might never happen again. And it isn't my fault I wasn't hurt,
+you know. I'm sure I wish I was."
+
+She gave him an icy glare.
+
+"Now see what you've done! Your men haven't come and you won't stay with
+Mr. Lake. How are you going to get home? Oh, I forgot--you can walk, as
+you should have done at first."
+
+The guilty wretch wilted yet further. He shuffled his feet; he writhed;
+he positively squirmed. He ventured a timid upward glance. It seemed to
+give him courage. Prompted, doubtless, by the same feeling which drives
+one to dive headlong into dreaded cold water, he said, in a burst of
+candor:
+
+"Well, you see, ma'am, that little horse now--he really ain't got far.
+He got tangled up over there a ways----"
+
+The girl wheeled and shot a swift, startled glance at the little
+eohippus on the hillside, who had long since given over his futile
+struggles and was now nibbling grass with becoming resignation. She
+turned back to Bransford. Slowly, scathingly, she looked him over from
+head to foot and slowly back again. Her expression ran the
+gamut--wonder, anger, scorn, withering contempt.
+
+"I think I hate you!" she flamed at him.
+
+Amazement triumphed over the other emotions then--a real amazement: the
+detected impostor had resumed his former debonair bearing and met her
+scornful eye with a slow and provoking smile.
+
+"Oh, no, you don't," he said reassuringly. "On the contrary, you don't
+hate me at all!"
+
+"I'm going home, anyhow," she retorted bitterly. "You may draw your own
+conclusions."
+
+Still, she did not go, which possibly had a confusing effect upon his
+inferences.
+
+"Just one minute, ma'am, if you please. How did you know so pat where
+the little black horse was? _I_ didn't tell you."
+
+Little waves of scarlet followed each other to her burning face.
+
+"I'm not going to stay another moment. You're detestable! And it's
+nearly sundown."
+
+"Oh, you needn't hurry. It's not far."
+
+She followed his gesture. To her intense mortification she saw the blue
+smoke of her home campfire flaunting up from a gully not half a mile
+away. It was her turn to droop now. She drooped.
+
+There was a painful silence. Then, in a far-off, hard, judicial tone:
+
+"How long, ma'am, if I may ask, have you known that the little black
+horse was tangled up?"
+
+Miss Ellinor's eyes shifted wildly. She broke a twig from a mahogany
+bush and examined the swelling buds with minutest care.
+
+"Well?" said her ruthless inquisitor sternly.
+
+"Since--since I went for your hat," she confessed in a half whisper.
+
+"To deceive me so!" Pain, grief, surprise, reproach, were in his words.
+"Have you anything to say?" he added sadly.
+
+A slender shoe peeped out beneath her denim skirt and tapped on a buried
+boulder. Ellinor regarded the toetip with interest and curiosity. Then,
+half-audibly:
+
+"We were having such a good time.... And it might never happen again!"
+
+He captured both her hands. She drew back a little--ever so little; she
+trembled slightly, but her eyes met his frankly and bravely.
+
+"No, no!... Not now.... Go, now, Mr. Bransford. Go at once. We will have
+a pleasant day to remember."
+
+"Until the next pleasant day," said resolute Bransford, openly exultant.
+"But see here, now--I can't go to Lake's camp or to Lake's ball"--here
+Miss Ellinor pouted distinctly--"or anything that is Lake's. After your
+masked ball, then what?"
+
+"New York; but it's only so far--on the map." She held her hands apart
+very slightly to indicate the distance. "On a little map, that is."
+
+"I'll drop in Saturdays," said Jeff.
+
+"Do! I want to hear you sing the rest about the little eohippus."
+
+"If you'll sing about Sandy!" suggested Jeff.
+
+"Why not? Good-by now--I must go."
+
+"And you won't sing about Sandy to any one else?"
+
+The girl considered doubtfully.
+
+"Why--I don't know--I've known you for a very little while, if you
+please." She gathered up her belongings. "But we're friends?"
+
+"_No! No!_" said Jeff vehemently. "You won't sing it to any one
+else--Ellinor?"
+
+She drew a line in the dust.
+
+"If you won't cross that line," she said, "I'll tell you."
+
+Mr. Bransford grasped a sapling with a firm clutch and shook it to try
+its strength.
+
+"A bird in the bush is the noblest work of God," he announced. "I'll
+take a chance."
+
+Her eyes were shining.
+
+"You've promised!" she said. She paused: when she spoke again her voice
+was low and a trifle unsteady. "I won't sing about Sandy to--any one
+else--Jeff!"
+
+Then she fled.
+
+Like Lot's wife, she looked back from the hillside. Jeff clung
+desperately to the sapling with one hand; from the other a
+handkerchief--hers--fluttered a good-by message. She threw him
+a farewell, with an ambiguous gesture.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was late when Jeff reached Rosebud Camp. He unsaddled Nigger Baby,
+the little and not entirely gentle black horse, rather unobtrusively;
+but Johnny Dines sauntered out during the process, announcing supper.
+
+"Huh!" sniffed Jeff. "S'pose I thought you'd wait until I come to get
+it?"
+
+Nothing more alarming than tallies was broached during supper, however.
+Afterward, Johnny tilted his chair back and, through cigarette smoke,
+contemplated the ceiling with innocent eyes.
+
+"Nigger Babe looks drawed," he suggested.
+
+"Uh-huh. Had one of them poor spells of his."
+
+Puff, puff.
+
+"Your saddle's skinned up a heap."
+
+"Run under a tree."
+
+Johnny's look of innocence grew more pronounced.
+
+"How'd you get your clothes so wet?"
+
+"Rain," said Jeff.
+
+Puff, puff.
+
+"You look right muddy too."
+
+"Dust in the air," said Jeff.
+
+"Ah!--yes." Silence during the rolling of another cigarette. Then:
+"How'd you get that cut on your head?"
+
+Jeff's hand went to his head and felt the bump there. He regarded his
+fingers in some perplexity.
+
+"That? Oh, that's where I bit myself!" He stalked off to bed in gloomy
+dignity.
+
+Half an hour later Johnny called softly:
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+Jeff grunted sulkily.
+
+"Camping party down near Mayhill. Lot o' girls. I saw one of 'em. Young
+person with eyes and hair."
+
+Jeff grunted again. There was a long silence.
+
+"Nice bear!" There was no answer.
+
+"_Good_ old bear!" said Johnny tearfully. No answer. "Mister Bear, if I
+give you one nice, good, juicy bite----"
+
+"_U--ugg--rrh!_" said Jeff.
+
+"Then," said Johnny decidedly, "I'll sleep in the yard."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE ROAD TO ROME
+
+     "Behold, one journeyed in the night.
+     He sang amid the wind and rain;
+     My wet sands gave his feet delight--
+     When will that traveler come again?"
+
+                         --_The Heart of the Road_,
+                              ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH.
+
+
+A hypotenuse, as has been well said, is the longest side of a
+right-angled triangle. There is no need for details. That we are all
+familiar with the use of this handy little article is shown by the
+existence of shortcuts at every available opportunity, and by
+keep-off-o'-the-grass signs in parks.
+
+Now, had Jeff Bransford desired to go to Arcadia--to that masquerade,
+for instance--his direct route from Jackson's Ranch would have been
+cater-cornered across the desert, as has been amply demonstrated by
+Pythagoras and others.
+
+That Jeff did not want to go to Arcadia--to the masked ball, for
+instance--is made apparent by the fact that the afternoon preceding said
+ball saw him jogging southward toward Baird's, along the lonely base of
+that inveterate triangle whereof Jackson's, Baird's and Arcadia are the
+respective corners, leaving the fifty-five-mile hypotenuse far to his
+left. It was also obvious from the tenor of his occasional
+self-communings.
+
+"I don't want to make a bally fool of myself--do I, old Grasshopper?
+Anyhow, you'll be too tired when we get to 'Gene's."
+
+Grasshopper made no response, other than a plucky tossing of his bit and
+a quickening cadence in his rhythmical stride, by way of pardonable
+bravado.
+
+"I never forced myself in where my company wasn't wanted yet, and I
+ain't going to begin now," asserted Jeff stoutly; adding, as a fervent
+afterthought: "Damn Lake!"
+
+His way lay along the plain, paralleling the long westward range, just
+far enough out to dodge the jutting foothills; through bare white levels
+where Grasshopper's hoofs left but a faint trace on the hard-glazed
+earth. At intervals, tempting cross-roads branched away to mountain
+springs. The cottonwood at Independent Springs came into view round the
+granite shoulder of Strawberry, six miles to the right of him. He roused
+himself from prolonged pondering of the marvelous silhouette, where San
+Andres unflung in broken masses against the sky, to remark in a hushed
+whisper:
+
+"I wonder if she'd be glad to see me?"
+
+Several miles later he quoted musingly:
+
+     "For Ellinor--her Christian name was Ellinor--
+     Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her!"
+
+After all, there are problems which Pythagoras never solved.
+
+The longest road must have an end. Ritch's Ranch was passed far to the
+right, lying low in the long shadow of Kaylor; then the mouth of
+Hembrillo Canyon; far ahead, a shifting flicker of Baird's windmill
+topped the brush. It grew taller; the upper tower took shape. He dipped
+into the low, mirage-haunted basin, where the age-old Texas Trail
+crosses the narrow western corner of the White Sands. When he emerged
+the windmill was tall and silver-shining; the low iron roofs of the
+house gloomed sullen in the sun.
+
+Dust rose from the corral. Now Jeff's ostensible errand to the West Side
+had been the search for strays; three days before he had prudently been
+three days' ride farther to the north. The reluctance with which he had
+turned back southward was justified by the fact that this critical
+afternoon found him within striking distance of Arcadia--striking
+distance, that is, should he care for a bit of hard riding. This was
+exactly what Jeff had fought against all along. So, when he saw the
+dust, he loped up.
+
+It was as he had feared. A band of horses was in the waterpen; among
+them a red-roan head he knew--Copperhead, of Pringle's mount; confirmed
+runaway. Jeff shut the gate. For the first time that day, he permitted
+himself a discreet glance eastward to Arcadia.
+
+"Three days," he said bitterly, while Grasshopper thrust his eager
+muzzle into the water-trough--"three days I have braced back my feet and
+slid, like a yearlin' at a brandin' bee--and look at me now! Oh,
+Copperhead, you darned old fool, see what you done now!"
+
+In this morose mood he went to the house. There was no one at home. A
+note was tacked on the door.
+
+     Gone to Plomo. Back in two or three days. Beef hangs under
+     platform on windmill tower. When you get it, oil the mill.
+     Books and deck of cards in box under bed. Don't leave fire in
+     stove when you go.
+
+                         GENE BAIRD.
+
+     N. B.--Feed the cat.
+
+Jeff built a fire in the stove and unsaddled the weary Grasshopper. He
+found some corn, which he put into a woven-grass _morral_ and hung on
+Grasshopper's nose. He went to the waterpen, roped out Copperhead and
+shut him in a side corral. Then he let the bunch go. They strained
+through the gate in a mad run, despite shrill and frantic remonstrance
+from Copperhead.
+
+"Jeff," said Jeff soberly, "are you going to be a damned fool all your
+life? That girl doesn't care anything about you. She hasn't thought of
+you since. You stay right here and read the pretty books. That's the
+place for you."
+
+This advice was sound and wise beyond cavil. So Jeff took it valiantly.
+After supper he hobbled Grasshopper and took off the nosebag. Then he
+went to the back room in pursuit of literature.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Have I leave for a slight digression, to commit a long-delayed act of
+justice--to correct a grievous wrong? Thank you.
+
+We hear much of Mr. Andrew Carnegie and His Libraries, the Hall of Fame,
+the Little Red Schoolhouse, the Five-Foot Shelf, and the World's Best
+Books. A singular thing is that the most effective bit of philanthropy
+along these lines has gone unrecorded of a thankless world. This shall
+no longer be.
+
+Know, then, that once upon a time a certain soulless corporation, rather
+in the tobacco trade, placed in each package of tobacco a coupon, each
+coupon redeemable by one paper-bound book. Whether they were moved by
+remorse to this action or by sordid hidden purposes of their own, or,
+again, by pure, disinterested and farseeing love of their kind, is not
+yet known; but the results remain. There were three hundred and three
+volumes on that list, mostly--but not altogether--fiction. And each one
+was a classic. Classics are cheap. They are not copyrighted. Could I but
+know the anonymous benefactor who enrolled that glorious company, how
+gladly would I drop a leaf on his bier or a cherry in his bitters!
+
+Thus it was that, in one brief decade, the cowboys, with others, became
+comparatively literate. Cowboys all smoked. Doubtless that was a chief
+cause contributory to making them the wrecks they were. It destroyed
+their physique; it corroded and ate away their will power--leaving them
+seldom able to work over nineteen hours a day, except in emergencies;
+prone to abandon duty in the face of difficulty or danger, when human
+effort, raised to the nth power, could do no more--all things
+considered, the most efficient men of their hands on record.
+
+Cowboys all smoked: and the most deep-seated instinct of the human race
+is to get something for nothing. They got those books. In due course of
+time they read those books. Some were slow to take to it; but when you
+stay at lonely ranches, when you are left afoot until the water-holes
+dry up, so you may catch a horse in the waterpen--why, you must do
+something. The books were read. Then, having acquired the habit, they
+bought more books. Since the three hundred and three were all real
+books, and since the cowboys had been previously uncorrupted of
+predigested or sterilized fiction, or by "gift," "uplift" and "helpful"
+books, their composite taste had become surprisingly good, and they
+bought with discriminating care. Nay, more. A bookcase follows books; a
+bookcase demands a house; a house needs a keeper; a housekeeper needs
+everything. Hence alfalfa--houseplants--slotless tables--bankbooks. The
+chain which began with yellow coupons ends with Christmas trees. In some
+proudest niche in the Hall of Fame a grateful nation will yet honor that
+hitherto unrecognized educator, Front de Boeuf.[A]
+
+[Footnote A: "_Bull Durham._"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jeff pawed over the tattered yellow-backed volumes in profane
+discontent. He had read them all. Another box was under the bed, behind
+the first. Opening it, he saw a tangled mass of clothing, tumbled in the
+bachelor manner; with the rest, a much-used football outfit--canvas
+jacket, sweater, padded trousers, woolen stockings, rubber noseguard,
+shinguards, ribbed shoes--all complete; for 'Gene Baird was fullback of
+the El Paso eleven.
+
+Jeff segregated the gridiron wardrobe with hasty hands. His eye
+brightened; he spoke in an awed and almost reverent voice.
+
+"I ain't mostly superstitious, but this looks like a leading. First, I'm
+here; second, Copperhead's here; third, no one else is here; and, for
+the final miracle, here's a costume made to my hand. Thirty-five miles.
+Ten o'clock, if I hurry. H'm!
+
+"'When first I put this uniform on'--how did that go? I'm forgetting all
+my songs. Getting old, I guess."
+
+Rejecting the heavy shoes, as unmeet for waxed floors, and the
+shinguards, he rolled the rest of the uniform in his slicker and tied it
+behind his saddle. Then he rubbed his chin.
+
+"Huh! That's a true saying, too. I am getting old. Youth turns to youth.
+Buck up, Jeff, you old fool! Have some pride about you and just a little
+old horse-sense."
+
+Yet he unhobbled Grasshopper, who might then be trusted to find his way
+to Rainbow in about three days. He went to the corral and tossed a rope
+on snorting Copperhead. "No; I won't go!" he said, as he slipped on the
+bridle. "Just to uncock old Copperhead, I'll make a little horse-ride to
+Hospital Springs and look through the stock." He threw on the saddle
+with some difficulty--Copperhead was fat and frisky. "She don't want to
+see you, Jeff--an old has-been like you! No, no; I'd better not go. I
+won't! There, if I didn't leave that football stuff on the saddle! I'll
+take it off. It might get lost. Whoa, Copperhead!"
+
+Copperhead, however, declined to whoa on any terms. His eyes bulged out;
+he reared, he pawed, he snorted, he bucked, he squealed, he did anything
+but whoa. Exasperated, Jeff caught the bridle by the cheek piece and
+swung into the saddle. After a few preliminaries in the pitching line,
+Jeff started bravely for Hospital Springs.
+
+It was destined that this act of renunciation should be thwarted.
+Copperhead stopped and dug his feet in the ground as if about to take
+root. Jeff dug the spurs home. With an agonized bawl, Copperhead made a
+creditable ascension, shook himself and swapped ends before he hit the
+ground again. "_Wooh!_" he said. His nose was headed now for Arcadia; he
+followed his nose, his roan flanks fanned vigorously with a doubled
+rope.
+
+"Headstrong, stubborn, unmanageable brute! Oh, well, have it your own
+way then, you old fool! You'll be sorry!" Copperhead leaped out to the
+loosened rein. "This is just plain kidnapping!" said Jeff.
+
+Kidnapped and kidnapper were far out on the plain as night came on.
+Arcadia road stretched dimly to the east; the far lights of La Luz
+flashed through the leftward dusk; straight before them was a glint and
+sparkle in the sky, faint, diffused, wavering; beyond, a warm and mellow
+glow broke the blackness of the mountain wall, where the lights of
+low-hidden Arcadia beat up against Rainbow Rim.
+
+Jeff was past his first vexation; he sang as he rode:
+
+     "There was ink on her thumb when I kissed her hand,
+       And she whispered: 'If you should die
+     I'd write you an epitaph, gloomy and grand!'
+       'Time enough for that!' says I.
+
+"Keep a-movin here, Copperhead! Time fugits right along. You will play
+hooky, will you? 'I'm going to be a horse!'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE MASKERS
+
+     "For Ellinor (her Christian name was Ellinor)
+     Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her."
+
+                         --RICHARD HOVEY.
+
+
+It lacked little of the eleventh hour when the football player reached
+the ballroom--last comer to the revels. A bandage round his head and a
+rubber noseguard, which also hid his mouth, served for a mask, eked out
+by crisscrossed strips of courtplaster. One arm was in a sling--for
+stage purposes only.
+
+As he limped through the door, Diogenes hurried to meet him, held up his
+lantern, peered hopefully into the battered face and shook his
+disappointed head. "Stung again!" muttered Diogenes.
+
+Jeff lisped in numbers which fully verified the cynic's misgiving.
+"7--11--4--11--44!" he announced jerkily. This was strictly in character
+and also excused him from entangling talk, leaving him free to search
+the whirl of dancers.
+
+A bulky Rough Rider volunteered his help. He fixed a gleaming eyeglass
+on his nose and politely offered Jeff a Big Stick by way of a crutch.
+"Hit the line hard!" he barked. He bit the words off with a
+prize-bulldog effect. He had fine teeth.
+
+Jeff waved him off. "16--2--1!" he proclaimed controversially. He felt
+his spirits sinking, with a growing doubt of his ability to identify the
+Only One, and was impatient of interruption. He kept his slow and
+watchful way down the floor.
+
+Topsy broke away from her partner and stopped Jeff's crippled progress.
+Her short hair, braided to a dozen tight and tiny pigtails, bristled
+away in all directions.
+
+"Laws, young marsta', you suhtenly does look puny!" she said. Then she
+clutched at her knee. "_Aie!_" she tittered, as a loose red stocking
+dropped flappingly to her ankle. Pray do not be shocked. The effect was
+startling; but a black stocking, decorously tight and smooth, was
+beneath the red one. Jeff's mathematics were not equal to the strain of
+adequate comment. Topsy dived to the rescue. "Got a string?" she
+giggled, as she hitched the fallen stocking back to place. "I cain't fix
+this good nohow!"
+
+Jeff jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Man over there with an
+eyeglass cord--maybe you can get that. What makes you act so?" He looked
+cold disapproval; nevertheless, he looked.
+
+Topsy hung her head, still clutching at the stocking-top. "Dunno. I
+spec's it's 'cause Ise so wicked!" Finger in mouth, she looked after
+Jeff as he hobbled away.
+
+A slender witch bounced from a chair and barred his way with a broom.
+Her eyes were brimming sorcery; her lips looked saucy challenge; she
+leaned close for a whispered word in his ear: "How would you like to
+tackle me?"
+
+Poor Jeff! "10, 2--10, 2!" he promised huskily. Yet he ducked beneath
+the broom.
+
+"But," said the little witch plaintively, "you're going away!" She
+dropped her broom and wept.
+
+"8, 2--8, 2--8, 2!" said Jeff, almost in tears himself, and again fell
+back upon English. "Mere figures or mere words can't tell you how much I
+hate to; but I've got to follow the ball. I'm looking for a fellow."
+
+"If he--if he doesn't love you," sobbed the stricken witch, "then you'll
+come back to me--won't you? I love a liar!"
+
+"To the very stake!" vowed Jeff. Such heroic, if conditional, constancy
+was not to go unrewarded. A couple detached themselves from the dancers,
+threaded their way to a corner of the long hall and stood there in deep
+converse. Jeff quickened pulse and pace--for one was a Red Devil and the
+other wore the soft gray costume of a Friend. She was tall, this
+Quakeress, and the hobnobbing devil was of Jeff's own height. Jeff began
+to hope for a goal.
+
+Briskly limping, he came to this engrossed couple and laid a friendly
+hand on the devil's shoulder.
+
+"Brother," he said cordially, "will you please go to--home?"
+
+The devil recoiled an astonished step.
+
+"What? What!! Show me your license!"
+
+"Twenty-three!--Please!--there's a good devil--23! I'm the right guard
+for this lady, I hope. Oh, please to go home!"
+
+The devil took this request in very bad part.
+
+"Go back fifteen yards for offside play and take a drop kick at
+yourself!" he suggested sourly.
+
+A burly policeman, plainly conscious of fitting his uniform, paused for
+warning.
+
+"No scrappin' now! Don't start nothin' or I'll run in the t'ree av
+yees!" he said, and sauntered on, twirling a graceful nightstick.
+
+"Thee is a local man, judging from thy letters," said the Quaker lady,
+to relieve the somewhat strained situation. "What do they stand for? E.
+P.? Oh, yes--El Paso, of course!"
+
+"I saw you first!" said the Red Devil. "And with your disposition you
+would naturally find me more suitable. Make your choice of gridirons!
+Send him back to the side lines! Disqualify him for interference!"
+
+"Don't be hurried into a decision," said Jeff. "Eternity is a good
+while. Before it's over I'm going to be a--well, something more than a
+footballer. Golf, maybe--or tiddledywinks."
+
+The Quakeress glanced attentively from one to the other.
+
+"Doubtless he will do his best to forward Thy Majesty's interests," she
+interposed. "Why not give him a chance?"
+
+The devil shrugged his shoulders. "I always prefer to give this branch
+of work my personal attention," he said stiffly.
+
+"A specialty of thine?" mocked the girl.
+
+The devil bowed sulkily.
+
+"My heart is in it. Of course, if you prefer the bungling of a novice,
+there is no more to be said."
+
+"Thy Majesty's manners have never been questioned," murmured the
+Quakeress, bowing dismissal. "So kind of you!"
+
+The devil bowed deeply and turned, pausing to hurl a gloomy prophecy
+over his shoulder. "See you later!" he said, and stalked away with an
+ill grace.
+
+Pigskin hero and girl Friend, left alone, eyed each other with mutual
+apprehension. The girl Friend was first to recover speech. Her red lips
+were prim below her vizor, her eyes downcast to hide their dancing
+lights. Timidly she spread out fanwise the dove color of her sober
+costume.
+
+"How does thee like my gray gown?"
+
+"Not at all," said Jeff brutally. "You're no friend of mine, I hope."
+
+A most un-Quakerlike dimple trembled to her chin, relieving the firm
+austerity of straight lips. Also, Jeff caught a glimpse of her eyes
+through the vizor. They were crinkling--and they were brown. She
+ventured another tentative remark, and there was in it an undertone
+lingering, softly confidential.
+
+"Is thee lame?"
+
+"Not--very," said Jeff, and saw a faint color start to the unmasked
+moiety of the Quaker cheek. "Still, if I may have the next dance, I
+shall be glad if you will sit it out with me." Painfully he raised the
+beslinged arm in explanation. _Sobre las Olas_ throbbed out its wistful
+call; they set their thought to its haunting measure.
+
+"By all means!" She took his undamaged arm. "Let us find chairs."
+
+Now there were chairs to the left of them, chairs to the right of them,
+chairs vacant everywhere; but the gallant Six Hundred themselves were
+not more heedless or undismayed than these two. Still, all the world did
+not wonder. On the contrary, not even the anxious devil saw them after
+they passed behind a knot of would-be dancers who were striving to
+disentangle themselves. For, seeing traffic thus blocked, the policeman
+rushed to unsnarl the tangle. Magnificently he flourished his stick. He
+adjured them roughly: "Move on, yous! Move on!" Whereat, with one
+impulse, the tangle moved on the copper, swept over him, engulfed him,
+hustled him to the door and threw him out.
+
+So screened, the chair-hunters vanished in far less than a psychological
+moment: for Jeff, in obedience to a faint or fancied pressure on his
+arm, dived through portieres into a small room set apart for such as had
+the heart to prefer cards or chess. The room was deserted now and there
+was a broad window open to the night. Thus, thrice favored of
+Providence, they found themselves in the garden, chairless but cheerful.
+
+A garden with one Eve is the perfect combination in a world awry.
+Muffled, the music and the sounds of the ballroom came faint and far to
+them; star-made shadows danced at their feet. The girl paused,
+expectant; but it was the unexpected that happened. The nimble tongue
+which had done such faithful service for Mr. Bransford now failed him
+quite: left him struggling, dumb, inarticulate, helpless--tongue and
+hand alike forgetful of their cunning.
+
+Be sure the maid had adroitly heard much of Mr. Bransford, his deeds and
+misdeeds, during the tedious interval since their first meeting. Report
+had dwelt lovingly upon Mr. Bransford's eloquence at need. This awkward
+silence was a tribute of sincerity above question.
+
+With difficulty Ellinor mastered a wild desire to ask where the cat had
+gone. "Oh, come ye in peace here or come ye in war?" Such injudicious
+quotation trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she suppressed
+it--barely in time. She felt herself growing nervous with the fear lest
+she should be hurried into some all too luminous speech. And still Jeff
+stood there, lost, speechless, helpless, unready, a clumsy oaf, an
+object of pity. Pity at last, or a kindred feeling, drove her to the
+rescue. And, just as she had feared, she said, in her generous haste,
+far too much.
+
+"I thought you were not coming?"
+
+The inflection made a question of this statement. Also, by implication,
+it answered so many questions yet unworded that Jeff was able to use his
+tongue again; but it was not the trusty tongue of yore--witness this
+wooden speech:
+
+"You mean you thought I said I wasn't coming--don't you? You knew I
+would come."
+
+"Indeed? How should I know what you would do? I've only seen you once.
+Aren't you forgetting that?"
+
+"Why else did you make up as a Friend then?"
+
+"Oh! Oh, dear, these men! There's conceit for you! I chose my costume
+solely to trap Mr. Bransford's eye? Is that it? Doubtless all my
+thoughts have centered on Mr. Bransford since I first saw him!"
+
+"You know I didn't mean that, Miss Ellinor. I----"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, if you please!"
+
+"Miss Hoffman. Don't be mean to me. I've only got an hour----"
+
+"An hour! Do you imagine for one second----Why, I mustn't stay here.
+This is really a farewell dance given in my honor. We go back East day
+after to-morrow. I must go in."
+
+"Only one little hour. And I have come a long ways for my hour. They
+take their masks off at midnight--don't they? And of course I can't stay
+after that. I want only just to ask you----"
+
+"Why did you come then? Isn't it rather unusual to go uninvited to a
+ball?"
+
+"Why, I reckon you nearly know why I come, Miss Hoffman; but if you want
+me to say precisely, ma'am----"
+
+"I don't!"
+
+"We'll keep that for a surprise, then. Another thing: I wanted to find
+out just where you live in New York. I forgot to ask you. And I couldn't
+very well go round asking folks after you're gone--could I? Of course I
+didn't have any invitation--from Mr. Lake; but I thought, if he didn't
+know it, he wouldn't mind me just stepping in to get your address."
+
+"Well, of all the assurance!" said Miss Ellinor. "Do you intend to
+start up a correspondence with me without even the formality of asking
+my consent?"
+
+"Why, Miss Ellinor, ma'am, I thought----"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, sir! Yes--and there's another thing. You said you had no
+invitation--from Mr. Lake. Does that mean, by any chance, that I invited
+you?"
+
+"You didn't say a word about my coming," said Jeff. He was a flustered
+man, this poor Bransford, but he managed to put a slight stress upon the
+word "say."
+
+Miss Ellinor--Miss Hoffman--caught this faint emphasis instantly.
+
+"Oh, I didn't _say_ anything? I just looked an invitation, I suppose?"
+she stormed. "Melting eyes--and that sort of thing? Tears in them,
+maybe? Poor girl! Poor little child! It would be cruel to let her go
+home without seeing me again. I will give her a little more happiness,
+poor thing, and write to her a while. Maybe it would be wiser, though,
+just to make a quarrel and break loose at once. She'll get over it in a
+little while after she gets back to New York. Well! Upon my word!"
+
+As she advanced these horrible suppositions, Miss Hoffman had marked out
+a short beat of garden path--five steps and a turn; five steps back and
+whirl again--with, on the whole, a caged-tigress effect. With a
+double-quick at each turn to keep his place at her elbow, Jeff, utterly
+aghast at the damnable perversity of everything on earth, vainly
+endeavored to make coordinate and stumbling remonstrance. As she stopped
+for breath, Jeff heard his own voice at last, propounding to the world
+at large a stunned query as to whether the abode of lost spirits could
+afford aught to excel the present situation. The remark struck him: he
+paused to wonder what other things he had been saying.
+
+Miss Ellinor walked her beat, vindictive. Her chin was at an angle of
+complacency. She turned up the perky corners of an imaginary mustache
+with an air, an exasperating little finger, separated from the others,
+pointing upward in hateful self-satisfaction. Her mouth wore a gratified
+masculine smirk, visible even in the starlight; her gait was a leisured
+and lordly strut; her hand waved airy pity. Jeff shrank back in horror.
+
+"M-Miss Hoffman, I n-never d-dreamed----"
+
+Miss Hoffman turned upon him swiftly.
+
+"Never have I heard anything like it--never! You bring me out here
+willy-nilly, and by way of entertainment you virtually accuse me of
+throwing myself at your head."
+
+"I never!" said Jeff indignantly. "I didn't----"
+
+Miss Hoffman faced him crouchingly and shook an indictment from her
+fingers.
+
+"First, you imply that I enticed you to come; second, expecting you, I
+dressed to catch your eye; third, I was watching eagerly for you----"
+
+"Come--I say now!" The baited and exasperated victim walked headlong
+into the trap. "The first thing you did was to ask me if I was lame?
+Wasn't that question meant to find out who I was? When I answered,
+'Not--very,' didn't you know at once that it was me?"
+
+"There! That proves exactly what I was just saying," raged the delighted
+trapper. "You don't even deny it! You say in so many words that I have
+been courting you! I had to say something--didn't I? You wouldn't! You
+were limping, so I asked you if you were lame. What else could I have
+said? Did you want me to stand there like a stuffed Egyptian mummy?
+That's the thanks a girl gets for trying to help a great, awkward,
+blundering butter-fingers! Oh, if you could just see yourself! The
+irresistible conqueror! Not altogether unprincipled though! You _are_
+capable of compunction. I'll give you credit for that. Alarmed at your
+easy success, you try to spare me. It is noble of you--noble! You drag
+me out here, force a quarrel upon me----"
+
+"Oh, by Jove now! Really!" Stung by the poignant injustice of crowding
+events, Jeff took the bit in his teeth and rushed to destruction.
+"Really, you must see yourself that I couldn't drag you out here! I have
+never been in that hall before. I didn't know the lay of the ground. I
+didn't even know that little side room was there. I thought you pressed
+my arm a little----" So the brainless colt, in the quicksands, flounders
+deeper with each effort to extricate himself.
+
+If Miss Hoffman had been angry before she was furious now.
+
+"So _that's_ the way of it? Better and better! _I_ dragged _you_ out!
+Really, Mr. Bransford, I feel that I should take you back to your
+chaperon at once. You might be compromised, you know!"
+
+Goaded to desperation, he acted on this hint at once. He turned, with
+stiff and stilted speech:
+
+"I will take you back to the window, Miss Hoffman. Then there is nothing
+for me to do but go. I am sorry to have caused you even a moment's
+annoyance. To-morrow you will see how you have twisted--I mean, how
+completely you have misinterpreted everything I have said. Perhaps some
+day you may forgive me. Here is the window. Good-night--good-by!"
+
+Miss Hoffman lingered, however.
+
+"Of course, if you apologize----"
+
+"I do, Miss Hoffman. I beg your pardon most sincerely for anything I
+have ever said or done that could hurt you in any way."
+
+"If you are sure you are sorry--if you take it all back and will never
+do such a thing again--perhaps I may forgive you."
+
+"I won't--I am--I will!" said the abject and groveling wretch. Which
+was incoherent but pleasing. "I didn't mean anything the way you took
+it; but I'm sorry for everything."
+
+"Then I didn't beguile you to come? Or mask as a Friend in the hope that
+you would identify me?"
+
+"No, no!"
+
+Miss Ellinor pressed her advantage cruelly. "Nor take stock of each new
+masker to see if he possibly wasn't the expected Mr. Bransford? Nor drag
+you into the garden? Nor squeeze your arm?" Her hands went to her face,
+her lissome body shook. "Oh, Mr. Bransford!" she sobbed between her
+fingers. "How could you--how _could_ you say that?"
+
+The clock chimed. A pealing voice beat out into the night: "Masks off!"
+A hundred voices swelled the cry; it was drowned in waves of laughter.
+It rose again tumultuously: "_Masks off! Masks off!_" Nearer came
+hateful voices, too, that cried: "_Ellinor! Ellinor! Where are you?_"
+
+"I must go!" said Jeff. "They'll be looking for you. No; you didn't do
+any of those things. You couldn't do any of those things. Good-by!"
+
+"_Ellinor! Ellinor Hoffman!! Where are you?_"
+
+Miss Hoffman whipped off her mask. From the open window a shaft of light
+fell on her face. It was flushed, sparkling, radiant. "Masks off!" she
+said. "Stupid!... Oh, you great goose! Of course I did!" She stepped
+back into the shadow.
+
+No one, as the copybook says justly, may be always wise. Conversely, the
+most unwise of us blunders sometimes upon the right thing to do. With a
+glimmer of returning intelligence Mr. Bransford laid his noseguard on
+the window-sill.
+
+"_Sir!_" said Ellinor then. "How dare you?" Then she turned the other
+cheek. "Good-by!" she whispered, and fled away to the ballroom.
+
+Mr. Bransford, in the shadows, scratched his head dubiously.
+
+"Her Christian name was Ellinor," he muttered. "Ellinor! H'm--Ellinor!
+Very appropriate name.... Very!... And I don't know yet where she
+lives!"
+
+He wandered disconsolately away to the garden wall, forgetting the
+discarded noseguard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE ISLE OF ARCADY
+
+     "Then the moon shone out so broad and good
+       That the barn-fowl crowed:
+     And the brown owl called to his mate in the wood
+       _That a dead man lay in the road_!"
+
+                         --WILL WALLACE HARNEY.
+
+
+Arcadia's assets were the railroad, two large modern sawmills, the
+climate and printer's ink. The railroad found it a patch of bare ground,
+six miles from water; put in successively a whistling-post, a signboard,
+a depot, townsite papers and a water-main from the Alamo; and, when the
+townsite papers were confirmed, established machine shops and made the
+new town the division headquarters and base for northward building.
+
+The railroad then set up the sawmills, primarily to get out ties and
+timbers for its own lanky growth, and built a spur to bring the forest
+down from Rainbow to the mills. The word "down" is used advisedly.
+Arcadia nestled on the plain under the very eavespouts of Rainbow Range.
+The branch, following with slavish fidelity the lines of a twisted
+corkscrew, took twenty-seven miles, mostly tunnel and trestlework, to
+clamber to the logging camps, with a minimum grade that was purely
+prohibitive and a maximum that I dare not state; but there was a rise of
+six thousand feet in those twenty-seven miles. You can figure the
+average for yourself. And if the engine should run off the track at the
+end of her climb she would light on the very roundhouse where she took
+breakfast, and spoil the shingles.
+
+Yes, that was some railroad. There was a summer hotel--Cloudland--on the
+summit, largely occupied by slackwire performers. Others walked up or
+rode a horse. They used stem-winding engines, with eight vertical
+cylinders on the right side and a shaft like a steamboat, with beveled
+cogwheel transmission on the axles. And they haven't had a wreck on that
+branch to date. No matter how late a train is, when an engine sees the
+tail-lights of her caboose ahead of her she stops and sends out flagmen.
+
+The railroad, under the pseudonym of the Arcadia Development Company,
+also laid out streets and laid in a network of pipe-lines, and staked
+out lots until the sawmill protested for lack of tie-lumber. It put down
+miles of cement walks, fringed them with cottonwood saplings, telephone
+poles and electric lights. It built a hotel and a few streets of
+party-colored cottages--directoire, with lingerie tile roofs, organdy
+facades and peplum, intersecting panels and outside chimneys at the
+gable ends. It decreed a park, with nooks, lanes, mazes, lake,
+swans, ballground, grandstand, bandstand and the band appertaining
+thereunto--all of which apparently came into being over night. Then it
+employed a competent staff of word-artists and capitalized the climate.
+
+The result was astonishing. The cottonwoods grew apace and a swift town
+grew with them--swift in every sense of the word. It took good money to
+buy good lots in Arcadia. People with money must be fed, served and
+amused by people wanting money. In three years the trees cast a pleasant
+shade and the company cast a balance, with gratifying results. They
+discounted the unearned increment for a generation to come.
+
+It was a beneficent scheme, selling ozone and novelty, sunshine and
+delight. The buyers got far more than the worth of their money, the
+company got their money--and every one was happy. Health and good
+spirits are a bargain at any price. There were sandstorms and hot days;
+but sand promotes digestion and digestion promotes cheerfulness. Heat
+merely enhanced the luxury of shaded hammocks. As an adventurer thawed
+out, he sent for seven others worse than himself. Arcadia became the
+metropolis of the county and, by special election, the county-seat.
+Courthouse, college and jail followed in quick succession.
+
+For the company, Arcadia life was one grand, sweet song, with, thus
+far, but a single discord. As has been said, Arcadia was laid out on the
+plain. There was higher ground on three sides--Rainbow Mountain to the
+east, the deltas of La Luz Creek and the Alamo to the north and south.
+New Mexico was dry, as a rule. After the second exception, when
+enthusiastic citizens went about on stilts to forward a project for
+changing the town's name to Venice, the company acknowledged its error
+handsomely. When dry land prevailed once more above the face of the
+waters, it built a mighty moat by way of the _amende honorable_--a moat
+with its one embankment on the inner side of the five-mile horseshoe
+about the town. This, with its attendant bridges, gave to Arcadia an
+aspect singularly medieval. It also furnished a convenient line of
+social demarcation. Chauffeurs, college professors, lawyers, gamblers,
+county officers, together with a few tradesmen and railroad officials,
+abode within "the Isle of Arcady," on more or less even terms with the
+Arcadians proper; millmen, railroaders, lumberjacks, and the underworld
+generally, dwelt without the pale.
+
+The company rubbed its lamp again--and behold! an armory, a hospital and
+a library! It contributed liberally to churches and campaign funds; it
+exercised a general supervision over morals and manners. For example, in
+the deed to every lot sold was an ironclad, fire-tested, automatic and
+highly constitutional forfeiture clause, to the effect that sale or
+storage on the premises of any malt, vinous or spirituous liquors should
+immediately cause the title to revert to the company. The company's own
+vicarious saloon, on Lot Number One, was a sumptuous and magnificent
+affair. It was known as The Mint.
+
+All this while we have been trying to reach the night watchman.
+
+In the early youth of Arcadia there came to her borders a warlock Finn,
+of ruddy countenance and solid build. He had a Finnish name, and they
+called him Lars Porsena.
+
+Lars P. had been a seafaring man. While spending a year's wage in San
+Francisco, he had wandered into Arcadia by accident. There, being unable
+to find the sea, he became a lumberjack--with a custom, when in spirits,
+of beating the watchman of that date into an omelet.
+
+The indulgence of this penchant gave occasion for much adverse
+criticism. Fine and imprisonment failed to deter him from this playful
+habit. One watchman tried to dissuade Lars from his foible with a club,
+and his successor even went so far as to shoot him--to shoot Lars P.,
+of course, not his predecessor--the successor's predecessor, not Lars
+Porsena's--if he ever had one, which he hadn't. (What we need is
+more pronouns.) He--the successor of the predecessor--resigned when
+Lars became convalescent; but Lars was no whit dismayed by this
+contretemps--in his first light-hearted moment he resumed his old
+amusement with unabated gayety.
+
+Thus was one of our greatest railroad systems subjected to embarrassment
+and annoyance by the idiosyncrasies of an ignorant but cheerful
+sailor-man. The railroad resolved to submit no longer to such caprice. A
+middleweight of renown was imported, who--when he was able to be about
+again--bitterly reproached the president and demanded a bonus on the
+ground that he had knocked Lars down several times before he--Lars--got
+angry; and also because of a disquisition in the Finnish tongue which
+Lars Porsena had emitted during the procedure--which address, the
+prizefighter stated, had unnerved him and so led to his undoing. It was
+obviously, he said, of a nature inconceivably insulting; the memory of
+it rankled yet, though he had heard only the beginning and did not get
+the--But let that pass.
+
+The thing became a scandal. Watchman succeeded watchman on the company
+payroll and the hospital list, until some one hit upon a happy and
+ingenious way to avoid this indignity. Lars Porsena was appointed
+watchman.
+
+This statesmanlike policy bore gratifying results. Lars Porsena
+straightway abandoned his absurd and indefensible custom, and no
+imitator arose. Also, Arcadia within the moat--the island--which was
+the limit of his jurisdiction, became the most orderly spot in New
+Mexico.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the first gray of dawn, Uncle Sam, whistling down Main Street on his
+way home from the masquerade, found Lars Porsena lying on his face in a
+pool of blood.
+
+The belated reveler knelt beside him. The watchman was shot, but still
+breathed. "Ho! Murder! Help! Murder!" shouted Uncle Sam. The alarm
+rolled crashing along the quiet street. Heads were thrust from windows;
+startled voices took up the outcry; other home-goers ran from every
+corner; hastily arrayed householders poured themselves from street
+doors.
+
+Lars Porsena was in disastrous plight. He breathed, but that was about
+all. He was shot through the body. A trail of blood led back a few doors
+to Lake's Bank. A window was cut out; the blood began at the sill.
+
+Messengers ran to telephone the doctor, the sheriff, Lake. The knot of
+men grew to a crowd. A rumor spread that there had been an unusual
+amount of currency in the bank over night--a rumor presently confirmed
+by Bassett, the bareheaded and white-faced cashier. It was near payday;
+in addition to the customary amount to cash checks for railroaders and
+millhands--itself no mean sum--and the money for regular business,
+there had been provision for contemplated loans to promoters of new
+local industries.
+
+The doctor came running, made a hasty examination, took emergency
+measures to stanch the freshly started blood, and swore whole-heartedly
+at the ambulance and the crowding Arcadians. He administered a
+stimulant. Lars Porsena fluttered his eyes weakly.
+
+"Stand back, you idiots! Bash these fools' faces in for 'em, some one!"
+said the medical man. He bent over the watchman. "Who did it, Lars?"
+
+Lars made a vain effort to speak. The doctor gave him another sip of
+restorative and took a pull himself.
+
+"Try again, old man. You're badly hurt and you may not get another
+chance. Did you know him?"
+
+Lars gathered all his strength to a broken speech:
+
+"No.... Bank ... Found window ... Midnight ... nearly.... Shot me....
+Didn't see him." He fell back on Uncle Sam's starry vest.
+
+"Ambulance coming," said Uncle Sam. "Will he live, doc?"
+
+Doc shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Poor chance. Lost too much blood. If he had been found in time he might
+have pulled through. Wonderful vitality. Ought to be dead now, by the
+books. Still, there's a chance."
+
+"I never thought," said Uncle Sam to Cyrano de Bergerac, as the
+ambulance bore away its unconscious burden, "that I would ever be so
+sorry at anything that could happen to Lars Porsena--after the way he
+made me stop singing on my own birthday. He was one grand old fighting
+machine!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+STATES-GENERAL
+
+     "And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay
+     And laid the wyte on Geordie."
+
+                         --_Old Ballad._
+
+
+That the master's eye is worth two servants had ever been Lake's
+favorite maxim. He had not yet gone to bed when the message reached him,
+where he kept his masterly eye on the proper closing up of the ballroom.
+He came through the crowd now, shouldering his way roughly, still in his
+police costume--helmet, tunic and belt. In his wake came the sheriff,
+who had just arrived, scorching to the scene on his trusty wheel.
+
+On the bank steps, Lake turned to face the crowd. His strong canine jaw
+was set to stubborn fighting lines; the helmet did not wholly hide the
+black frown or the swollen veins at his temple.
+
+"Come in, Thompson, and help the sheriff size the thing up--and you,
+Alec"--he stabbed the air at his choice with a strong blunt finger--"and
+Turnbull--you, Clarke--and you.... Bassett, you keep the door. Admit no
+one!"
+
+Lake was the local great man. Never had he appeared to such advantage to
+his admirers; never had his ascendency seemed so unquestioned and so
+justified. As he stood beside the sheriff in the growing light, the man
+was the incarnation of power--the power of wealth, position, prestige,
+success. In this moment of yet unplumbed disaster, taken by surprise,
+summoned from a night of crowded pleasure, he held his mastery, chose
+his men and measures with unhesitant decision--planned, ordered, kept to
+that blunt direct speech of his that wasted no word. A buzz went up from
+the unadmitted as the door swung shut behind him.
+
+Lake had chosen well. Arcadia in epitome was within those pillaged
+walls. Thompson was president of the rival bank. Alec was division
+superintendent. Turnbull was the mill-master. Clarke was editor of the
+_Arcadian Day_. Clarke had been early to the storm-center; yet, of all
+the investigators, Clarke alone was not more or less disheveled. He was
+faultlessly appareled--even to the long Prince Albert and black string
+tie--in which, indeed, report said, he slept.
+
+So much for capital, industry and the fourth estate. The last of the
+probers, whom Lake had drafted merely by the slighting personal pronoun
+"you," was nevertheless identifiable in private life by the name of
+Billy White--being, indeed, none other than our old friend the devil.
+His indigenous mustache still retained a Mephistophelian twist; he was
+becomingly arrayed in slippers, pajamas and a pink bathrobe, girdled at
+the waist with a most unhermitlike cord, having gone early and surly to
+bed. In this improvised committee he fitly represented Society: while
+the sheriff represented society at large and, ex officio, that
+incautious portion under duress. Yet one element was unrepresented; for
+Lake made a mistake which other great men have made--of failing to
+reckon with the masterless men, who dwell without the wall.
+
+Lake led the way.
+
+"Will the watchman die, Alec, d'you think?" whispered Billy, as they
+filed through the grilled door to the counting room.
+
+"Don't know. Hope not. Game old rooster. Good watchman, too," said
+Turnbull, the mill-superintendent.
+
+Lake turned on the lights. The wall-safe was blown open; fragments of
+the door were scattered among the overturned chairs.
+
+In an open recess in the vault there was a dull yellow mass; the
+explosion had spilled the front rows of coin to a golden heap. Behind,
+some golden rouleaus were intact: others tottered precariously, as you
+have perhaps seen beautiful tall stacks of colored counters do. Gold
+pieces were strewn along the floor.
+
+"Thank God, they didn't get all the gold anyhow!" said Lake, with a sigh
+of relief. "Then, of course, they didn't touch the silver; but there
+was a lot of greenbacks--over twenty-five thousand, I think. Bassett
+will know. And I don't know how much gold is gone. Look round and see if
+they left anything incriminating, sheriff, anything that we can trace
+them by."
+
+"He heard poor old Lars coming," said the sheriff. "Then, after he shot
+him, he hadn't the nerve to come back for the gold. This strikes me as
+being a bungler's job. Must have used an awful lot of dynamite to tear
+that door up like that! Funny no one heard the explosion. Can't be much
+of your gold gone, Lake. That compartment is pretty nearly as full as it
+will hold."
+
+"Or heard him shoot our watchman," suggested Thompson. "Still, I don't
+know. There's blasting going on in the hills all the time and almost
+every one was at the masquerade or else asleep. How many times did they
+shoot old Lars--does anybody know? Is there any idea what time it was
+done?"
+
+"He was shot once--right here," said Alec, indicating the spot on the
+flowered silk that had been part of his mandarin's dress. "Gun was held
+so close it burnt his shirt. Awful hole. Don't believe the old chap'll
+make it. He crawled along toward the telephone station till he dropped.
+Say! Central must have heard that shot! It's only two blocks away. She
+ought to be able to tell what time it was."
+
+"Lars said it was just before midnight," said Clarke.
+
+"Oh!--did he speak?" asked Lake. "How many robbers were there? Did he
+know any of them?"
+
+"He didn't see anybody--shot just as he reached the window. Hope some
+one hangs for this!" said Clarke. "Lake, I wish you'd have this money
+picked up--I'm not used to walking on gold--or else have me watched."
+
+Lake shook his head, angry at the untimely pleasantry. It was a
+pleasantry in effect only, put forward to hide uneditorial agitation and
+distress for Lars Porsena. Lake's undershot jaw thrust forward; he
+fingered the blot of whisker at his ear. It was a time for action, not
+for talk. He began his campaign.
+
+"Look here, sheriff! You ought to wire up and down the line to keep a
+lookout. Hold all suspicious characters. Then get a posse to ride for
+some sign round the town. If we only had something to go on--some clue!
+Later we'll look through this town with a finetooth comb. Most likely
+they--or he, if there was only one--won't risk staying here. First of
+all, I've got to telegraph to El Paso for money to stave off a run on
+the bank. You'll help me, Thompson? Of course my burglar insurance will
+make good my loss--or most of it; but that'll take time. We mustn't risk
+a run. People lose their heads so. I'll give you a statement for the
+_Day_, Clarke, as soon as I find out where Mr. Thompson stands."
+
+"I will back you up, sir. With the bulk of depositors' money loaned out,
+no bank, however solvent, can withstand a continued run without backing.
+I shall be glad to tide you over if only for my own protection. A panic
+is contagious----"
+
+"Thanks," said Lake shortly, interrupting this stately financial
+discourse. "Then we shall do nicely.... Let's see--to-morrow's payday.
+You fellows"--he turned briskly to the two superintendents--"can't you
+hold up your payday, say, until Saturday? Stand your men off. The
+company stands good for their money. They can wait a while."
+
+"No need to do that," said Alec. "I'll have the railroad checks drawn on
+St. Louis. The storekeepers'll cash 'em. If necessary I'll wire for
+authority to let Turnbull pay off the millhands with railroad checks.
+It's just taking money from one pocket to put it in the other, anyhow."
+
+"Then that's all right! Now for the robbers!" The banker's face betrayed
+impatience. "My first duty was to protect my clients; but now we'll
+waste no more time. You gentlemen make a close search for any possible
+scrap of evidence while the sheriff and I write our telegrams. I must
+wire the burglar insurance company, too." He plunged a pen into an
+inkwell and fell to work.
+
+Acting upon this hint, the sheriff took a desk. "Wish Phillips was
+here--my deputy," he sighed. "I've sent for him. He's got a better head
+than I have for noticing clues and things." This was eminently correct
+as well as modest. The sheriff was a Simon-pure Arcadian, the company's
+nominee; his deputy was a concession to the disgruntled Hinterland,
+where the unobservant rarely reach maturity.
+
+"Oh, Alec!" said Lake over his shoulder, "you sit down, too, and wire
+all your conductors about their passengers last night. Yes, and the
+freight crews, too. We'll rush those through first. And can't you scare
+up another operator?" His pen scratched steadily over the paper. "More
+apt to be some of our local outlaws, though. In that case it will be
+easier to find their trail. They'll probably be on horseback."
+
+"You were an--old-timer yourself, were you not?" asked Billy amiably.
+"If the robbers are frontiersmen they may be easier to get track of, as
+you suggest; but won't they be harder to get?" Billy spoke languidly.
+The others were searching assiduously for "clues" in the most approved
+manner, but Billy sprawled easily in a chair.
+
+"We'll get 'em if we can find out who they were," snapped Lake, setting
+his strong jaw. He did not particularly like Billy--especially since
+their late trip to Rainbow. "There never was a man yet so good but
+there was one just a little better."
+
+"By a good man, in this connection, you mean a bad man, I presume?" said
+Billy in a meditative drawl. "Were you a good man before you became a
+banker?"
+
+"Look here! What's this?" The interruption came from Clarke. He pounced
+down between two fragments of the safe door and brought up an object
+which he held to the light.
+
+At the startled tones, Lake spun round in his swivel-chair. He held out
+his hand.
+
+"Really, I don't think I ever saw anything like this thing before," he
+said. "Any of you know what it is?"
+
+"It's a noseguard," said Billy. Billy was a college man and had worn a
+nosepiece himself. He frowned unconsciously, remembering his successful
+rival of the masquerade.
+
+"A noseguard? What for?"
+
+"You wear it to protect your nose and teeth when playing football,"
+explained Billy. "Keeps you from swearing, too. You hold this piece
+between your teeth; the other part goes over your nose, up between your
+eyes and fastens with this band around your forehead."
+
+"Why! Why!" gasped Clarke, "there was a man at the masquerade togged out
+as a football player!"
+
+"I saw him," said Alec. "And he wore one of these things. I saw him
+talking to Topsy."
+
+"One of my guests?" demanded Lake scoffingly. "Oh, nonsense! Some young
+fellow has been in here yesterday, talking to the clerks, and dropped
+it. Who went as a football player, White? You know all these college
+boys. Know anything about this one?"
+
+"Not a thing." There Billy lied--a prompt and loyal gentleman--reasoning
+that Buttinski, as he mentally styled the interloper who had
+misappropriated the Quaker lady, would have cared nothing at that time
+for a paltry thirty thousand. Thus was he guilty of a practice against
+which we are all vainly warned--of judging others by ourselves. Billy
+remembered very distinctly that Miss Ellinor had not reappeared until
+the midnight unmasking, and he therefore acquitted her companion of this
+particular crime, entirely without prejudice to Buttinski's felonious
+instincts in general. For the watchman had been shot before midnight.
+Billy made a tentative mental decision that this famous noseguard had
+been brought to the bank later and left there purposely; and resolved to
+keep his eye open.
+
+"Oh, well, it's no great difference anyhow," said Lake. "Whoever it was
+dropped it here yesterday, I guess, and got another one for the
+masquerade."
+
+"Hold on there!" said Clarke, holding the spotlight tenaciously. "That
+don't go! This thing was on top of one of those pieces of the safe!"
+
+For the first time Lake was startled from his iron composure.
+
+"Are you sure?" he demanded, jumping up.
+
+"Sure! It was right here against the sloping side of this piece--so."
+
+"That puts a different light on the case, gentlemen," said Lake. "Luck
+is with us; and----"
+
+"And, while I think of it," said Clarke, making the most of his
+unexpected opportunity, "I made notes of all the costumes and their
+wearers after the masks were off--for the paper, you know--and I saw no
+football player there. I remember that distinctly."
+
+"I only saw him the one time," confirmed Alec, "and I stayed almost to
+the break-up. Whoever it was, he left early."
+
+"But what possible motive could the robber have for going to the dance
+at all?" queried Lake in perplexity.
+
+"Maybe he made his appearance there in a football suit purposely, so as
+to leave us some one to hunt for, and then committed the robbery and
+went back in another costume," suggested Clarke, pleased and not a
+little surprised at his own ingenuity. "In that case, he would have left
+this rubber thing here of design."
+
+"H'm!" Lake was plainly struck with this theory. "And that's not such a
+bad idea, either! We'll look into this football matter after breakfast.
+You'll go to the hotel with me, gentlemen? Our womankind are all asleep
+after the ball. The sheriff will send some one to guard the bank.
+Meantime I'll call the cashier in and find out exactly how much money
+we're short. Send Bassett in, will you, Billy? You stay at the door and
+keep that mob out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ARCADES AMBO
+
+     "What means this, my lord?"
+     "Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief."
+
+                         --_Hamlet._
+
+     "We are here to do what service we may, for honor and not for
+     hire."--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
+
+
+With Billy went the sheriff and Alec, the latter with a sheaf of
+telegrams.
+
+"Now ... how did Buttinski's noseguard get into this bank? That's what
+I'd like to know," said Billy to the doorknob, when the other
+committeemen had gone their ways. "I didn't bring it. I don't believe
+Buttinski did.... And Policeman Lake certainly saw us quarreling. He
+noticed the football player, right enough,--and he pretends he didn't.
+Why--why--why does Policeman Lake pretend he didn't see that football
+player? Echo answers--why?... Denmark's all putrefied!"
+
+The low sun cleared the housetops. The level rays fell along the
+window-sill; and Billy, staring fascinated at the single blotch of dried
+blood on the inner sill, saw something glitter and sparkle there beside
+it. He went closer. It was a dust of finely powdered glass. Billy
+whistled.
+
+A light foot ran up the steps. There was a rap at the door.
+
+"No entrance except on business. No business transacted here!" quoted
+Billy, startled from a deep study. A head appeared at the window. "Oh,
+it's you, Jimmy? That's different. Come in!"
+
+It was Jimmy Phillips, the chief deputy. Billy knew him and liked him.
+He unbarred the door.
+
+"Well, anything turned up yet?" demanded Jimmy. "I stopped in to see
+Lars. Him and me was old side partners."
+
+"How's he making it, Jimmy?"
+
+"Oh, doc said he had one chance in ten thousand; so he's all right, I
+guess," responded that brisk optimist. "They got any theory about the
+robber?"
+
+"They have that. A perfectly sound theory, too--only it isn't true,"
+said Billy in a low and guarded tone. "They'll tell you. I haven't got
+time. See here--if I give you the straight tip will you work it up and
+keep your head closed until you see which way the cat jumps? Can you
+keep it to yourself?"
+
+"Mum as a sack of clams!" said Jimmy.
+
+"Look at this a minute!" Billy pointed to the tiny particles of glass on
+the inner sill. "Got that? Then I'll dust it off. This is a case for
+your gummiest shoes. Now look at this!" He indicated the opening where
+the patch of glass had been cut from the big pane. Jimmy rubbed his
+finger very cautiously along the raw edge of the glass.
+
+"Cut out from the inside--then carried out there? A frame-up?"
+
+"Exactly. But I don't want anybody else to size it up for a
+frame-up--not now."
+
+"But," said Jimmy good-naturedly, "I'd 'a' seen all that myself after a
+little if you hadn't 'a' showed me."
+
+"Yes," said Billy dryly; "and then told somebody! That's why I brushed
+the glass-dust off. I've got inside information--some that I'm going to
+share with you and some that I am not going to tell even you!"
+
+"Trot it out!"
+
+"Lake had the key of this front door in the policeman's uniform that he
+wore to the dance. Isn't that queer? If I were you I'd very quietly find
+out whether he went home to get that key after he got word that the bank
+was robbed. He was still in the ballroom when he got the message."
+
+"You think it's a put-up job? Why?"
+
+"There is something not just right about the man Lake. His mind is too
+ballbearing altogether. He herds those chumps in there round like so
+many sheep. He used 'em to make discoveries with and then showed 'em how
+to force 'em on him. Oh, they made a heap of progress! They've got
+evidence enough up in there to hang John the Baptist, with Lake all the
+time setting back in the breeching like a balky horse. It's Lake's bank,
+and the bank's got burglar insurance. Got that? If he gets the money and
+the insurance, too--see? And I happen to know he has been bucking the
+market. I dropped a roll with him myself. Then there's r-r-revenge!--as
+they say on the stage--and something else beside. Has Lake any bitter
+enemies?"
+
+"Oodles of 'em!"
+
+"But one worse than the others--one he hates most?"
+
+Jimmy thought for a while. Then he nodded.
+
+"Jeff Bransford, I reckon."
+
+"Is he in town?"
+
+"Not that I know of."
+
+"Well, I never heard of your Mr. Bransford; but he's in town all right,
+all right! You'll see! Lake's got a case cooked up that'll hang some one
+higher than Haman; and I'll bet the first six years of my life against a
+Doctor Cook lecture ticket that the first letter of some one's name is
+Jeff Bransford."
+
+"Maybe Jeff can prove he was somewhere else?" suggested Jimmy.
+
+Billy evaded the issue.
+
+"What sort of a man is this Bransford? Any good? Besides being an enemy
+of Lake's, I mean?"
+
+"Mr. Bransford is one whom we all delight to humor," announced the
+deputy, after some reflection.
+
+"Friend of yours?"
+
+Jimmy reflected again.
+
+"We-ll--yes!" he said. "He limps a little in cold weather, and I got a
+little small ditch plowed in my skull--but our horses was both young and
+wild, and the boys rode in between us before there was any harm done. I
+pulled him out of the Pecos since that, too, and poured some several
+barrels of water out o' him. Yes, we're good friends, I reckon."
+
+"He'll shoot back on proper occasion, then? A good sport? Stand the
+gaff?"
+
+"On proper occasion," rejoined Jimmy, "the other man will shoot back--if
+he's lucky. Yes, sir, Jeff's certainly one dead game sport at any turn
+in the road."
+
+"Considering the source and spirit of your information, you sadden me,"
+said Billy. "The better man he is, the better chance to hang. Has he got
+any close friends here?"
+
+"He seldom ever comes here," said Jimmy. "All his friends is on Rainbow,
+specially South Rainbow; but his particular side partners is all away
+just now; leastways, all but one."
+
+"Can't you write to that one?"
+
+The deputy grinned hugely.
+
+"And tell him to come break Jeff out o' jail?" said he. "That don't seem
+hardly right, considerin'. You write to him--Johnny Dines, Morningside.
+You might wire up to Cloudland and have it forwarded from there. I'll
+pay."
+
+Billy made a note of it.
+
+"They'll be out here in a jiffy now," he said. "Now, Jimmy, you listen
+to all they tell you; follow it up; make no comments; don't see anything
+and don't miss anything. Let Lake think he's having it all his own way
+and he'll make some kind of a break that will give him away. We haven't
+got a thing against him yet except the right guess. And you be careful
+to catch your friend without a fight. When you get him I want you to
+give him a message from me; but don't mention any name. Tell him to keep
+a stiff upper lip--that the devil takes care of his own. Say the devil
+told you himself--in person. I don't want to show my hand. I'm on the
+other side--see? That way I can be in Lake's counsels--force myself in,
+if necessary, after this morning."
+
+"You think that if you give Lake rope enough----"
+
+"Exactly. Here they come--I hear their chairs."
+
+"Blonde or brunette?" said Jimmy casually.
+
+"Eh? What's that?"
+
+"The something else that you wouldn't tell me about," Jimmy explained.
+"Is she blonde or brunette?"
+
+"Oh, go to hell!" said Billy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+TAKEN
+
+     "Lord Huntley then he did speak out--
+       O, fair mot fa' his body!--
+     'I here will fight doublet alane
+       Or ony thing ails Geordie!
+
+     "'Whom has he robbed? What has he stole?
+       Or has he killed ony?
+     Or what's the crime that he has done
+       His foes they are so mony?'"
+
+                         --_Old Ballad._
+
+
+Hue and cry, hubbub and mystery, swept the Isle of Arcady that morning,
+but the most painstaking search and query proved fruitless. It developed
+beyond doubt that the football man had not been seen since his one brief
+appearance on the ballroom floor. Search was transferred to the
+mainland, where, as it neared noon, Lake's perseverance and thoroughness
+were rewarded. In Chihuahua suburb, beyond the north wall, Lake noted a
+sweat-marked, red-roan horse in the yard of Rosalio Marquez, better
+known, by reason of his profession, as Monte.
+
+Straightway the banker reported this possible clue to the sheriff and to
+Billy, who was as tireless and determined in the chase as Lake himself.
+The other masqueraders had mostly abandoned the chase. He found them on
+the bridge of the La Luz sallyport.
+
+"It may be worth looking into," Lake advised the sheriff. "Better send
+some one to reconnoiter--some one not known to be connected with your
+office. You go, Billy. If you find anything suspicious the sheriff can
+'phone to the hospital if he needs me. I'm going over to see how the old
+watchman is--ought to have gone before. If he gets well I must do
+something handsome for him."
+
+Billy fell in with this request. He had a well-founded confidence in
+Lake's luck and attached much more significance to the trifling matter
+of the red-roan horse than did the original discoverer--especially since
+the discoverer had bethought himself to go to the hospital on an errand
+of mercy. Billy now confidently expected early developments. And he
+preferred personally to conduct the arrest, so that he might interfere,
+if necessary, to prevent any wasting of good cartridges. He did not
+expect much trouble, however, providing the affair was conducted
+tactfully; reasoning that a dead game sport with a clean conscience and
+a light heart would not seriously object to a small arrest. Poor Billy's
+own heart was none of the lightest as he went on this loyal service to
+his presumably favored rival.
+
+Bicycle-back, he accompanied the sheriff beyond the outworks to the
+Mexican quarter. Near the place indicated by the banker Billy left his
+wheel and strolled casually round the block. He saw the red-roan steed
+and noted the Double Rainbow branded on his thigh.
+
+Monte was leaning in the adobe doorway, rolling a cigarette. Billy knew
+him, in a business way.
+
+"Hello, Monte! Good horse you've got there."
+
+"Yais--tha's nice hor-rse," said Monte.
+
+"Want to sell him?"
+
+"Thees ees not my hor-rse," explained Monte. "He ees of a frien'."
+
+"I like his looks," said Billy. "Is your friend here? Or, if he's
+downtown, what's his name? I'd like to buy that horse."
+
+"He ees weetheen, but he ees not apparent. He ees
+_dormiendo_--ah--yais--esleepin'. He was las' night to the _baile
+mascarada_."
+
+Billy nodded. "Yes; I was there myself." He decided to take a risk:
+assuming that his calculations were correct, _x_ must equal Bransford.
+So he said carelessly: "Let's see, Bransford went as a sailor, didn't
+he? _Un marinero?_"
+
+"Oh, no; he was atir-re' lak one--_que cosa_?--what you call thees
+theeng?--_un balon para jugar con los pies_? Ah! si, si!--one feetball!
+Myself I come soon back. I have no beesness. The bes' people ees all for
+the dance," said Monte, with hand turned up and shrugging shoulder.
+"So, _media noche_--twelve of the clock, I am here back. I fin' here the
+hor-rse of my frien', and one _carta_--letter--that I am not to lock the
+door; _porque_ he may come to esleep. So I am mek to r-repose myself.
+Later I am ar-rouse when my frien' am to r-retir-re heemself. Ah, _que
+hombre_! I am yet to esmile to see heem in thees so r-redeeculous
+_vestidos_! He ees ver' gay. Ah! _que_ Jeff! Een all ways thees ees a
+man ver' _sufficiente_, cour-rageous, es-trong, formidabble! Yet he ees
+keep the _disposicion_, the hear-rt, of a seemple leetle chil'--_un
+muchacho_!"
+
+"I'll come again," said Billy, and passed on. He had found out what he
+had come for. The absence of concealment dispelled any lingering doubt
+of Jeff Buttinski. Yet he could establish no alibi by Monte.
+
+Perhaps Billy White may require here a little explanation. All things
+considered, Billy thought Jeff would be better off in jail, with a
+friend in the opposite camp working for his interest, than getting
+himself foolishly killed by a hasty posse. If we are cynical, we may say
+that, being young, Billy was not averse to the role of _deus ex
+machina_; perhaps a thought of friendly gratitude was not lacking. Then,
+too, adventure for adventure's sake is motive enough--in youth. Or, as a
+final self-revelation, we may hint that if Jeff was a rival, so too was
+Lake--and one more eligible. Let us not be cynical, however, or
+cowardly. Let us say at once shamelessly what we very well know--that
+youth is the season for clean honor and high emprise; that boy's love is
+best and truest of all; that poor, honest Billy, in his own dogged and
+fantastic way, but sought to give true service where he--loved. There,
+we have said it; and we are shamed. How old are you, sir? Forty? Fifty?
+Most actions are the result of mixed motives, you say? Well, that is a
+notable concession--at your age. Let it go at that. Billy, then, acted
+from mixed motives.
+
+When Billy brought back his motives--and the sheriff--Monte still held
+his negligent attitude in the doorway. He waved a graceful salute.
+
+"I want to see Bransford," said the sheriff.
+
+"He ees esleepin'," said Monte.
+
+"Well, I want to see him anyway!" The sheriff laid a brusk hand on the
+gatelatch.
+
+Monte waved his cigarette airily, flicked the ash from the end with a
+slender finger, and once more demonstrated that the hand is quicker than
+the eye. The portentously steady gun in the hand was the first
+intimation to the eye that the hand had moved at all. It was a very
+large gun as to caliber, the sheriff noted. As it was pointed directly
+at his nose he was favorably situated to observe--looking along the
+barrel--that the hammer stood at full cock.
+
+"Per-rhaps you have some papers for heem?" suggested Monte, with gentle
+and delicate deference. He still leaned against the doorjamb. "But eef
+not eet ees bes' that you do not enter thees my leetle house to
+distur-rb my gues'. That would be to commeet a r-rudeness--no?"
+
+The sheriff was a sufficiently brave man, if not precisely a brilliant
+one. Yet he showed now intelligence of the highest order. He dropped the
+latch.
+
+"You Billy, stop your laughing! Do you know, Mr. Monte, I think you are
+quite right?" he observed, with a smiling politeness equal to Monte's
+own. "That would be rude, certainly. My mistake. An Englishman's house
+is his castle--that sort of thing? If you will excuse me now we will go
+and get the papers, as you so kindly pointed out."
+
+They went away, the sheriff, Billy and motives--Billy still laughing
+immoderately.
+
+Monte went inside and stirred up his guest with a prodding boot-toe.
+
+"Meester Jeff," he demanded, "what you been a-doin' now?"
+
+Jeff sat up, rumpled his hair, and rubbed his eyes.
+
+"Sleepin'," he said.
+
+"An' before? _Porque_, the sheriff he has been. To mek an arres' of you,
+I t'eenk."
+
+"Me?" said Jeff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't done
+anything that I can remember now!"
+
+"Sure? No small leetle cr-rime? Not las' night? Me, I jus' got up. I
+have not hear'."
+
+Jeff considered this suggestion carefully. "No. I am sure. Not for
+years. Some mistake, I guess. Or maybe he just wanted to see me about
+something else. Why didn't he come in?"
+
+"I mek r-reques' of heem that he do not," said Monte.
+
+"I see," Jeff laughed. "Come on; we'll go see him. You don't want to get
+into trouble."
+
+They crossed the bridge and met the sheriff just within the
+fortifications, returning in a crowded automobile. Jeff held up his
+hand. The machine stopped and the posse deployed--except Billy, who
+acted as chauffeur.
+
+"You wanted to see me, sheriff--at the hotel?"
+
+"Why, yes, if you don't mind," said the sheriff.
+
+"Good dinner? I ain't had breakfast yet!"
+
+"First-class," said the sheriff cordially. "Won't your friend come too?"
+
+"Ah, senor, you eshame me that I am not so hospitabble, ees eet not?"
+purred Monte, as he followed Jeff into the tonneau.
+
+The sheriff reddened and Billy choked.
+
+"Nothing of the sort," said the sheriff hastily, lapsing into
+literalness. "You were quite within your rights. For that matter, I
+know you were at your own bank, dealing, when the crime was committed. I
+am holding you for the present as a possible accessory; and, if not,
+then as a material witness. By the way, Monte, would you mind if I sent
+some men to look through your place? There is a matter of some thirty
+thousand dollars missing. Lake asked us to look for it. I have papers
+for it if you care to see them."
+
+"Oh, no, senor!" said Monte. He handed over a key. "_La casa es suyo!_"
+
+"Thank you," said the sheriff, with unmoved gravity. "Anything of yours
+you want 'em to bring, Bransford?"
+
+"Why, no," said Jeff cheerfully. "I've got nothing there but my saddle,
+my gun and an old football suit that belongs to 'Gene Baird, over on the
+West Side; but if you want me to stay long, I wish you'd look after my
+horse."
+
+"I too have lef' there my gun that I keep to protec' my leetle house,"
+observed Monte. "Tell some one to keep eet for me. I am much attach' to
+that gun."
+
+"Why, yes, I have seen that gun, I think," said the sheriff. "They'll
+look out for it. All right, Billy!"
+
+The car turned back.
+
+"Oh--you were speaking about Monte being an accessory. I didn't get in
+till 'way late last night, and I've been asleep all day," said Jeff
+apologetically. "Might I ask before or after exactly what fact Monte
+was an accessory?"
+
+"Bank robbery, for one thing."
+
+"Ah!... That would be Lake's bank? Anything else?"
+
+The sheriff was not a patient man and he had borne much; also, he liked
+Lars Porsena. Perfection, even in trifles, is rare and wins affection.
+He turned on Jeff, with an angry growl.
+
+"Murder!"
+
+"Lake?" murmured Jeff hopefully.
+
+The sheriff continued, ignoring and, indeed, only half sensing the
+purport of Jeff's comment:
+
+"At least, the wound may not be mortal."
+
+"That's too bad," said Jeff. He was, if possible, more cheerful than
+ever.
+
+The sheriff glared at him. Billy, from the front seat, threw a word of
+explanation over his shoulder. "It's not Lake. The watchman."
+
+"Oh, old Lars Porsena? That's different. Not a bad sort, Lars. Maybe
+he'll get well. Hope so.... And I shot him? Dear me! When did it
+happen?"
+
+"You'll find out soon enough!" said the sheriff grimly. "Your
+preliminary's right away."
+
+"Hell, I haven't had breakfast yet!" Jeff protested. "Feed us first or
+we won't be tried at all."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Within the jail, while the sheriff spoke with his warder, it occurred to
+Billy that, since Jimmy Phillips was not to be seen, he might as well
+carry his own friendly message. So he said guardedly:
+
+"Buck up, old man! Keep a stiff upper lip and be careful what you say.
+This is only your preliminary trial, remember. Lots of things may happen
+before court sets. The devil looks after his own, you know."
+
+Jeff had a good ear for voices, however, and Billy's mustache still kept
+more than a hint of Mephistopheles. Jeff slowly surveyed Billy's natty
+attire, with a lingering and insulting interest for such evidences of
+prosperity as silken hosiery and a rather fervid scarfpin. At last his
+eye met Billy's, and Billy was blushing.
+
+"Does he?" drawled Jeff languidly. "Ah!... You own the car, then?"
+
+Poor Billy!
+
+Notwithstanding the ingratitude of this rebuff, Billy sought out Jimmy
+Phillips and recounted to him the circumstances of the arrest.
+
+"Oh, naughty, naughty!" said the deputy, caressing his nose. "Lake's
+been a cowman on Rainbow. He knew the brand on that horse; he knew Jeff
+was chummy with Monte. He knew in all reason that Jeff was in there, and
+most likely he knew it all the time. So he sneaks off to see
+Lars--after shooting him from ambush, damn him!--and sends you to take
+Jeff. Looks like he might be willing for you and Jeff to damage either,
+which or both of yourselves, as the case may be."
+
+"It looks so," said Billy.
+
+"Must be a fine girl!" murmured Jimmy absently. "Well, what are you
+going to do? It looks pretty plain."
+
+"It looks plain to us--but we haven't got a single tangible thing
+against Lake yet. We'd be laughed out of court if we brought an
+accusation against him. We'll have to wait and keep our eyes open."
+
+"You're sure Lake did it? There was no rubber nosepiece at Monte's
+house. All the rest of the football outfit--but not that. That looks bad
+for Jeff."
+
+"On the contrary, that is the strongest link against Lake. I dare say
+Buttinski--Mr. Bransford--is eminently capable of bank robbery at odd
+moments; but I know approximately where that noseguard was at sharp
+midnight--after the watchman was shot." Here Billy swore mentally,
+having a very definite guess as to how Jeff might have lost the
+noseguard. "Lake, Clarke, Turnbull, Thompson, Alec or myself--one of the
+six of us--brought that noseguard to the bank after the robbery, and
+only one of the six had a motive--and a key."
+
+"Only one of you had a key," corrected Jimmy cruelly. "But can't Jeff
+prove where he was, maybe?"
+
+"He won't."
+
+"I'd sure like to see her," said Jimmy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE ALIBI
+
+     "And all love's clanging trumpets shocked and blew."
+
+     "The executioner's argument was, that you couldn't cut off a
+     head unless there was a body to cut it off from; that he had
+     never had to do such a thing before, and he wasn't going to
+     begin at _his_ time of life."--_Alice in Wonderland._
+
+
+The justice of the peace, when the county court was not in session, held
+hearings in the courtroom proper, which occupied the entire second story
+of the county courthouse. The room was crowded. It was a new courthouse;
+there are people impatient to try even a new hearse; and this bade fair
+to be Arcadia's first _cause celebre_.
+
+Jeff sat in the prisoner's stall, a target for boring eyes. He was
+conscious of an undesirable situation; exactly how tight a place it was
+he had no means of knowing until he should have heard the evidence. The
+room was plainly hostile; black looks were cast upon him. Deputy
+Phillips, as he entered arm in arm with the sometime devil, gave the
+prisoner an intent but non-committal look, which Jeff rightly
+interpreted as assurance of a friend in ambush; he felt unaccountably
+sure of the devil's fraternal aid; Monte, lolling within the rail of
+the witness-box, smiled across at him. Still, he would have felt better
+for another friendly face or two, he thought--say, John Wesley
+Pringle's.
+
+Jeff looked from the open window. Cottonwoods, well watered, give
+swiftest growth of any trees and are therefore the dominant feature of
+new communities in dry lands. The courthouse yard was crowded with them:
+Jeff, from the window, could see nothing but their green plumes; and his
+thoughts ran naturally upon gardens--or, to be more accurate, upon a
+garden.
+
+Would she lose faith in him? Had she heard yet? Would he be able to
+clear himself? No mere acquittal would do. Because of Ellinor, there
+must be no question, no verdict of Not Proven. She would go East
+to-morrow. Perhaps she would not hear of his arrest at all. He hoped
+not. The bank robbery, the murder--yes, she would hear of them, perhaps;
+but why need she hear his name? Hers was a world so different! He fell
+into a muse at this.
+
+Deputy Phillips passed and stood close to him, looking down from the
+window. His back was to Jeff; but, under cover of the confused hum of
+many voices, he spake low from the corner of his mouth:
+
+"Play your hand close to your bosom, old-timer! Wait for the draw and
+watch the dealer!" He strolled over to the other side of the judicial
+bench whence he came.
+
+This vulgar speech betrayed Jimmy as one given to evil courses; but to
+Jeff that muttered warning was welcome as thunder of Bluecher's squadrons
+to British squares at Waterloo.
+
+Down the aisle came a procession consciously important--the prosecuting
+attorney; the bank's lawyer, who was to assist, "for the people"; and
+Lake himself. As they passed the gate Jeff smiled his sweetest.
+
+"Hello, Wally!" Lake's name was Stephen Walter.
+
+Wally made no verbal response; but his undershot jaw did the steel-trap
+act and there was a triumphant glitter in his eye. He turned his broad
+back pointedly--and Jeff smiled again.
+
+The justice took his seat on the raised dais intervening between
+Jeff and the sheriff's desk. Court was opened. The usual tedious
+preliminaries followed. Jeff waived a jury trial, refused a lawyer
+and announced that he would call no witnesses at present.
+
+In an impressive stillness the prosecutor rose for his opening
+statement. Condensed, it recounted the history of the crime, so far as
+known; fixed the time by the watchman's statement--to be confirmed, he
+said, by another witness, the telephone girl on duty at that hour, who
+had heard the explosion and the ensuing gunshot; touched upon that
+watchman's faithful service and his present desperate condition. He told
+of the late finding of the injured man, the meeting in the bank, the sum
+taken by the robber, and the discovery in the bank of the rubber
+nosepiece, which he submitted as Exhibit A. He cited the witnesses by
+whom he would prove each statement, and laid special stress upon the
+fact that the witness Clarke would testify that the nosepiece had been
+found upon the shattered fragments of the safe door--conclusive proof
+that it had been dropped after the crime. And he then held forth at some
+length upon the hand of Providence, as manifested in the unconscious
+self-betrayal which had frustrated and brought to naught the prisoner's
+fiendish designs. On the whole, he spoke well of Providence.
+
+Now Jeff had not once thought of the discarded noseguard since he first
+found it in his way; he began to see how tightly the net was drawn round
+him. "There was a serpent in the garden," he reflected. A word from Miss
+Hoffman would set him free. If she gave that word at once, it would be
+unpleasant for her: but if she gave it later, as a last resort, it would
+be more than unpleasant. And in that same hurried moment, Jeff knew that
+he would not call upon her for that word. All his crowded life, he had
+kept the happy knack of falling on his feet: the stars, that fought in
+their courses against Sisera, had ever fought for reckless Bransford.
+He decided, with lovable folly, to trust to chance, to his wits and to
+his friends.
+
+"And now, Your Honor, we come to the unbreakable chain of evidence which
+fatally links the prisoner at the bar to this crime. We will prove that
+the prisoner was not invited to the masquerade ball given last night by
+Mr. Lake. We will prove----"
+
+There was a stir in the courtroom; the prosecutor paused, disconcerted.
+Eyes were turned to the double door at the back of the courtroom. In the
+entryway at the head of the stairs huddled a group of shrinking girls.
+Before them, one foot upon the threshold, stood Ellinor Hoffman. She
+shook off a detaining hand and stepped into the room, head erect, proud,
+pale. Across the sea of curious faces her eyes met the prisoner's. Of
+all the courtroom, Billy and Deputy Phillips alone turned then to watch
+Jeff's face. They saw an almost imperceptible shake of his head, a
+finger on lip, a reassuring gesture--saw, too, the quick pulsebeat at
+his throat.
+
+The color flooded back to Ellinor's face. Men nearest the door were
+swift to bring chairs. The prosecutor resumed his interrupted
+speech--his voice was deep, hard, vibrant.
+
+"Your Honor, the counts against this man are fairly damning! We will
+prove that he was shaved in a barber shop in Arcadia at ten o'clock
+last night; that he then rode a roan horse; that the horse was then
+sweating profusely; that this horse was afterward found at the house
+of--but we will take that up later. We will prove by many witnesses that
+among the masqueraders was a man wearing a football suit, wearing a
+nosepiece similar--entirely similar--to the one found in the bank, which
+now lies before you. We will prove that this football player was not
+seen in the ballroom after the hour of eleven P.M. We will prove that
+when he was next seen, without the ballroom, it was not until sufficient
+time had elapsed for him to have committed this awful crime."
+
+Ellinor half rose from her seat; again Jeff flashed a warning at her.
+
+"We will prove this, Your Honor, by a most unwilling witness--Rosalio
+Marquez"--Monte smiled across at Jeff--"a friend of the prisoner, who,
+in his behalf, has not scrupled to defy the majesty of the law! We can
+prove by this witness, this reluctant witness, that when he returned to
+his home, shortly after midnight, he found there the prisoner's horse,
+which had not been there when Mr. Marquez left the house some four hours
+previously: and that, at some time subsequent to twelve o'clock, the
+witness Marquez was wakened by the entrance of the prisoner at the bar,
+clad in a football suit, but wearing no nosepiece with it! And we have
+the evidence of the sheriff's posse that they found in the home of the
+witness, Rosalio Marquez, the football suit--which we offer as Exhibit
+B. Nay, more! The prisoner did not deny, and indeed admitted, that this
+uniform was his; but--mark this!--the searching party found no nosepiece
+there!
+
+"It is true, Your Honor, that the stolen money was not found upon the
+prisoner; it is true that the prisoner made no use of the opportunity to
+escape offered him by his lawless and disreputable friend, Rosalio
+Marquez--a common gambler! Doubtless, Your Honor, his cunning had
+devised some diabolical plan upon which he relied to absolve himself
+from suspicion; and now, trembling, he has for the first time learned of
+the fatal flaw in his concocted defense, which he had so fondly deemed
+invincible!"
+
+All eyes, including the orator's, here turned upon the prisoner--to find
+him, so far from trembling, quite otherwise engaged. The prisoner's
+elbow was upon the rail, his chin in his hand; he regarded Mr. Lake
+attentively, with cheerful amusement and a quizzical smile which in some
+way subtly carried an expression of mockery and malicious triumph. To
+this fixed and disconcerting regard Mr. Lake opposed an iron front, but
+the effort required was apparent to all.
+
+There was an uneasy rustling through the court. The prisoner's bearing
+was convincing, natural; this was no mere brazen assuming. The banker's
+forced composure was not natural! He should have been an angry banker.
+Of the two men, Lake was the less at ease. The prisoner's face turned at
+last toward the door. Blank unrecognition was in his eyes as they swept
+past Ellinor, but he shook his head once more, very slightly.
+
+There was a sense of mystery in the air--a buzz and burr of whispers; a
+rustle of moving feet. The audience noticeably relaxed its implacable
+attitude toward the accused, eyed him with a different interest, seemed
+to feel for the first time that, after all, he was accused merely, and
+that his defense had not yet been heard. The prosecutor felt this subtle
+change; it lamed his periods.
+
+"It is true, Your Honor, that no eye save God's saw this guilty man do
+this deed; but the web of circumstantial evidence is so closely drawn,
+so far-reaching, so unanswerable, so damning, that no defense can avail
+him except the improbable, the impossible establishment of an alibi so
+complete, so convincing, as to satisfy even his bitterest enemy! We will
+ask you, Your Honor, when you have seen how fully the evidence bears out
+our every contention, to commit the prisoner, without bail, to answer
+the charge of robbery and attempted murder!"
+
+Then, by the door, Jeff saw the girl start up. She swept down the
+aisle, radiant, brave, unfearing, resolute, all half-gods gone; she
+shone at him--proud, glowing, triumphant!
+
+A hush fell upon the thrilled room. Jeff was on his feet, his hand held
+out to stay her; his eyes spoke to hers. She stopped as at a command.
+Scarcely slower, Billy was at her side. "Wait! Wait!" he whispered. "See
+what he has to say. There will be always time for that." Jeff's eyes
+held hers; she sank into an offered chair.
+
+Cheated, disappointed, the court took breath again. Their dramatic
+moment had been nothing but their own nerves; their own excited
+imaginings had attached a pulse-fluttering significance to the flushed
+cheeks of a prying girl, seeking a better place to see and hear, to
+gratify her morbid curiosity.
+
+Jeff turned to the bench.
+
+"Your Honor, I have a perfectly good line of defense; and I trust no
+friend of mine will undertake to change it. I will keep you but a
+minute," he said colloquially. "I will not waste your time combating
+the ingenious theory which the prosecution has built up, or in
+cross-examination of their witnesses, who, I feel sure"--here he bowed
+to the cloud of witnesses--"will testify only to the truth. I quite
+agree with my learned friend"--another graceful bow--"that the case he
+has so ably presented is so strong that it can successfully be rebutted
+only by an alibi so clear and so incontestable, as my learned friend has
+so aptly phrased it, as to convince if not satisfy ... my bitterest
+enemy!" The bow, the subtle, icy intonation, edged the words. The
+courtroom thrilled again at the unspoken thought: "_An enemy hath done
+this thing!_" If, in the stillness, the prisoner had quoted the words
+aloud in fierce denunciation, the effect could not have been different
+or more startling. "And that, Your Honor, is precisely what I propose to
+do!"
+
+His Honor was puzzled. He was a good judge of men; and the prisoner's
+face was not a bad face.
+
+"But," he objected, "you have refused to call any witnesses for the
+defense. Your unsupported word will count for nothing. You cannot prove
+an alibi alone."
+
+"Can't I?" said Jeff. "Watch me!"
+
+With a single motion he was through the open window. Bending branches of
+the nearest cottonwood broke his fall--the other trees hid his flight.
+
+Behind him rose uproar, tumult and hullabaloo, a mass of struggling men
+at cross purposes. Gun in hand, the sheriff, stumbling over some one's
+foot--Monte's--ran to the window; but the faithful deputy was before
+him, blocking the way, firing with loving care--at one particular
+tree-trunk. He was a good shot, Jimmy. He afterward showed with pride
+where each ball had struck in a scant six-inch space. Vainly the sheriff
+tried to force his way through. There was but one stairway, and it was
+jammed. Before the foremost pursuer had reached the open Jeff had
+borrowed one of the saddled horses hitched at the rack and was away to
+the hills.
+
+As Billy struggled through the press, searching for Ellinor, he found
+himself at Jimmy's elbow.
+
+"A dead game sport--any turn in the road!" agreed Billy.
+
+The deputy nodded curtly; but his answer was inconsequent:
+
+"Rather in the brunette line--that bit of tangible evidence!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE NETTLE, DANGER
+
+     "Bushel o' wheat, bushel o' rye--
+     All 'at ain't ready, holler 'I'!"
+
+                         --_Hide and Seek._
+
+
+Double Mountain lies lost in the desert, dwarfed by the greatness all
+about. Its form is that of a crater split from north to south into
+irregular halves. Through that narrow cleft ran a straight road, once
+the well-traveled thoroughfare from Rainbow to El Paso. For there was
+precious water within those upheaved walls; it was but three miles from
+portal to portal; the slight climb to the divide had not been grudged.
+Time was when campfires were nightly merry to light the narrow cliffs of
+Double Mountain; when songs were gay to echo from them; when this had
+been the only watering place to break the long span across the desert.
+The railroad had changed all this, and the silent leagues of that old
+road lay untrodden in the sun.
+
+Not untrodden on this the day after Jeff had established his alibi. A
+traveler followed that lonely road to Double Mountain; and behind,
+half-way to Rainbow Range, was a streak of dust; which gained on him.
+The traveler's sorrel horse was weary, for it was the very horse Jeff
+Bransford had borrowed from the hitching-rail of the courthouse square;
+the traveler was that able negotiator himself; and the pursuing dust, to
+the best of Jeff's knowledge and belief, meant him no good tidings.
+
+"Now, I got safe away from the foothills before day," soliloquized
+Jeff. "Some gentleman has overtaken me with a spyglass, I reckon.
+Civilization's getting this country plumb ruined! And their horses are
+fresh. Peg along, Alibi! Maybe I can pick up a stray horse at Double
+Mountain. If I can't there's no sort of use trying to get away on you!
+I'll play hide-and-go-seek-'em. That'll let you out, anyway, so cheer
+up! You done fine, old man! If I ever get out of this I'll buy you and
+make it all right with you. Pension you off if you think you'll like it.
+Get along now!"
+
+Twenty miles to Jeff's right the railroad paralleled the wagonroad in an
+unbroken tangent of ninety miles' stretch. A southbound passenger train
+crawled along the west like a resolute centipede plodding to a date:
+behind the fugitive, abreast, now far ahead, creeping along the shining
+straightaway. Forty miles the hour was her schedule; yet against this
+vast horizon she could hardly be said to change place until, sighting
+beyond her puny length, a new angle of the far western wall completed
+the trinomial line.
+
+Escondido was hidden in a dip of plain--whence the name, Hidden, when
+done into Saxon speech. The train was lost to sight when she stopped
+there, but Jeff saw the tiny steam plume of her whistling rise in the
+clear and taintless air; long after, the faint sound of it hummed
+drowsily by, like passing, far-blown horns of faerie in a dream. And, at
+no great interval thereafter, a low-lying dust appeared suddenly on the
+hither rim of Escondido's sunken valley.
+
+Jeff knew the land as you know your hallway. That line of dust marked
+the trail from Escondido Valley to the farther gate of Double Mountain.
+Even if he should be lucky enough to get a change of mounts at the
+spring in Double Mountain Basin he would be intercepted. Escape by
+flight was impossible. To fight his way out was impossible. He had no
+gun; and, even if he had a gun, he could not see his way to fight, under
+the circumstances. The men who hunted him down were only doing the right
+thing as they saw it. Had Jeff been guilty, it would have been a
+different affair. Being innocent, he could make no fight for it. He was
+cornered.
+
+     "Said the little Eohippus:
+     'I'm going to be a horse!'"
+
+So chanted Jeff, perceiving the hopelessness of his plight.
+
+The best gift to man--or, if not the best, then at least the rarest--is
+the power to meet the emergency: to do your best and a little better
+than your best when nothing less will serve: to be a pinch hitter. It is
+to be thought that certain stages of affection, and more particularly
+the presence of its object, affect unfavorably the workings of pure
+intellect. Certain it is that capable Bransford, who had cut so sorry a
+figure in Eden garden, now, in these distressing but Eveless
+circumstances, rose to the occasion. Collected, resourceful, he grasped
+every possible angle of the situation and, with the rope virtually about
+his neck, cheerfully planned the impossible--the essence of his elastic
+plan being to climb that very rope, hand over hand, to safety.
+
+"Going round the mountain is no good on a give-out horse. They'll follow
+my tracks," said Jeff to Jeff. Men who are much alone so shape their
+thoughts by voicing them, just as you practice conversation rather to
+make your own thought clear to yourself than to enlighten your
+victim--beg pardon--your neighbor. Just a slip of the tongue. _Vecino_
+is the Spanish for neighbor, you know. Not so much to enlighten your
+neighbor as to find out for yourself precisely what it is you think.
+"Hiding in the Basin is no good. Can't get out. Would I were a bird!
+Only one way. Got to go straight up--disappear--vanish in the air. 'Up
+a chimney, up----' Naw, that's backward! 'Up a chimney, down, or down a
+chimney, down; but not up a chimney, up, nor down a chimney, up!' So
+that's settled! Now let me see, says the little man. Mighty few
+Arcadians know me well enough not to be fooled--mebbe so. Lake? Lake
+won't come. He'll be busy. There's Jimmy; but Jimmy's got a shocking bad
+memory for faces sometimes, just now, my face. I think, maybe, I could
+manage Jimmy. The sheriff? That would be real awkward, I reckon. I'll
+just play the sheriff isn't in the bunch and build my little bluff
+according to that pleasing fancy; for if he comes along it is all off
+with little Jeff!
+
+"Now lemme see! If Gwin's working that little old mine of his--why,
+he'll lie himself black in the face just for the principle of it. Mighty
+interestin' talker, Gwin is. And if no one's there, I'll be there. Not
+Jeff Bransford; he got away. I'll be Long--Tobe Long--working for Gwin.
+Tobe Long. I apprenticed my son to a miner, and the first thing he took
+was a new name!"
+
+Far away on the side of Double Mountain he could even now see the white
+triangle of the tent at Gwin's mine--the Ophir--and the gray dump
+spilling down the hillside. There was no smoke to be seen. Jeff made up
+his mind there was no one at the mine--which was what he devoutly
+hoped--and further developed his gleeful hypothesis.
+
+"Let's see now, Tobe. Got to study this all out. They most always leave
+all their kegs full of water when they go away, so they won't have to
+pack 'em up the first thing when they come back. If they did, I'm all
+right. If they didn't, I'm in a hell of a fix! They'll leave 'em full,
+though. Of course they did--else the kegs would all dry up and fall
+down." He glanced over his shoulder. "Them fellows are ten or twelve
+miles back, I reckon. They'll slow up so soon as they see I'm headed
+off. I'll have time to fix things up--if only there's water in the kegs
+at the mine!" He patted Alibi's head: "Now, old man, do your damnedest!
+It's pretty tough on you, but your part will soon be over."
+
+Alibi had made a poor night of it, what with doubling and twisting in
+the foothills, the bitter water of a gyp spring, and the scanty grass of
+a cedar thicket; but he did his plucky best. On the legal other hand, as
+Jeff had prophesied, the dustmakers behind had slackened their gait when
+they perceived, by the dust of Escondido trail, that their allies must
+cut the quarry off. So Alibi held his own with the pursuit.
+
+He came to the rising ground leading to the sheer base of Double
+Mountain; then to the narrow Gap where the mountain had fallen asunder
+in some age-old cataclysm. To the left, the dump of Ophir Mine hung on
+the hillside above the pass; and on the broad trail zigzagging up to it
+were burro-tracks, but no fresh tracks of men. The flaps of the white
+tent on the dump were tightly closed. There was no one at the mine. Jeff
+passed within the walls, through frowning gates of porphyry and gneiss,
+and urged Alibi up the canyon. It was half a mile to the spring. On the
+way he found three shaggy burros grazing beside the road. He drove them
+into the small pen by the spring and tossed his rope on the largest one.
+Then he unsaddled Alibi, tied him to the fence by the bridle rein, and
+searched his pockets for an old letter. This found, he penciled a note
+and tied it to the saddle. It was brief:
+
+                         EN ROUTE, FOUR P.M.
+
+Please water my horse when he cools off.
+
+                         Your little friend,
+                              JEFF BRANSFORD.
+
+P. S. Excuse haste.
+
+He made a plain trail of high-heeled boot-tracks to the spring, where he
+drank deep; thence beyond, through the sandy soil, to the nearest rocky
+ridge. Then, careful that every step fell on a bare rock, he came
+circuitously back to the corral, climbed the fence, made his way to the
+tied burro, improvised a bridle of cunning half-hitches, slipped from
+the fence to the burro's back--a burro, by the way, is a donkey--named
+the burro anew as Balaam, and went back down the canyon at the best pace
+of which the belabored and astonished Balaam was capable. As Jeff had
+hoped, the two other burros--or the other two burros, to be
+precise--followed sociably, braying remonstrance.
+
+Without the mouth of the canyon Jeff rode up the steep trail to the mine,
+also to the great disgust of his mount; but he must not walk--it would
+leave boot-tracks. For the same reason, after freeing Balaam, his first
+action was to pull off the telltale boots and replace them with the
+smallest pair of hobnailed miner's shoes in the tent. With these he
+carefully obliterated the few boot-tracks at the tent door.
+
+The water-kegs were full; Jeff swore his joyful gratitude and turned his
+eye to the plain. The pursuing dust was still far away--seven miles, he
+estimated, or possibly eight. The three burros nibbled on the bushes
+below the dump; plainly intending to stay round camp with an eye for
+possible tips. Jeff gave his whole-hearted attention to the
+_mise-en-scene_.
+
+Never did stage manager toil so hard, so faithfully, so effectively as
+this one--or with so great a need. He took stock of the available stage
+properties, beginning with a careful inventory of the grub-chest. To
+betray ignorance of its possibilities or deficiencies would be fatal.
+Following a narrow trail round a little shoulder of hill, he found the
+powder magazine. Taking three sticks of dynamite, with fuse and caps, he
+searched the tent for the candle-box, lit a candle and went into the
+tunnel with a brisk trot. "If this was a case of fight, now, I'd have
+some pretty fair weapons here for close quarters," said Jeff; "but the
+way I'm fixed I can't. No fighting goes--unless Lake comes."
+
+In the tunnel his luck held good. He found a number of good-sized chunks
+of rock stacked along the wall near the breast--evidently reserved for
+the ore pile at a more convenient season. Beneath three of the largest
+of these rocks he carefully adjusted the three sticks of giant powder,
+properly capped and fused, lit the fuses and retreated to the safety of
+the dump. Three muffled detonations followed at short intervals. Having
+thus announced the presence of mining operations, he built a fire on the
+kitchen side of the dump to further advertise a mind conscious of its
+own rectitude. The pleasant shadow of the hills was cool about him; the
+flame rose clear and bright in the windless air, to be seen from far
+away.
+
+He looked at the location papers in the monument by the ore stack;
+simultaneously, by way of economizing time, emptying a can of salmon.
+This was partly for the added verisimilitude of the empty tin, partly
+because he was ravenously hungry. You may guess how he emptied the tin.
+
+The mine had changed owners since Jeff's knowledge of it. It was no
+longer Gwin's sole property. The notice bore the signatures of J. Gwin,
+C. W. Sanders and Walter Fleck. Jeff grinned and his eye brightened. He
+knew Fleck only slightly; but Fleck's reputation among the cowmen was
+good--that is to say, as you would see it, very bad.
+
+Pappy Sanders, postmaster and storekeeper of Escondido, was an old and
+sorely tried friend of Jeff's. If Pappy had grub-staked the outfit----A
+far-away plan began to shape vaguely in his fertile brain. He took the
+little turquoise horse from his pocket and laid it in the till of the
+violated trunk. Were you told about the violated trunk? Never mind--he
+had done any amount of other things of which you have not been told; for
+it was his task, in the brief time allotted to him, to master all the
+innumerable details needful for an intelligent reading of his part. He
+must make no blunders.
+
+He toiled like two men, each swifter and more savagely efficient than
+himself; he upset the prim, old he-maidenish order of that carefully
+packed, spick-and-span camp; he rumpled the beds; strewed old clothes,
+books, candles, specimens, pipes and cigarette papers with lavish hand;
+made untidy, sprawling heaps of tin plates; knives, forks and spoons;
+spilled candle-grease and tobacco on the scoured table; and generally
+gave things a cozy and habitable appearance.
+
+He gave a hundred deft touches here and there. He spread an open book
+face downward on the table. (It was "Alice in Wonderland," and he opened
+it at the Mock-Turtle.) Meanwhile an unoccupied eye snatched titles from
+a shelf of books against possible question; he penned a short note to
+himself--Mr. Tobe Long--in Gwin's handwriting, folded the note to
+creases, twisted it to a spill, lit it, burned a corner of it, pinched
+it out and threw it under the table; and, while doing these and other
+things, he somehow managed to shed every article of Jeff Bransford's
+clothing and to put on the work-stained garments of a miner.
+
+The perspiration on his face was no stage make-up, but good, honest
+sweat. He rubbed stone-dust and sand on his sweaty arms and into his
+sweaty hair; he rubbed most of it from his hair and into the two-days'
+stubble on his face, simultaneously fishing razor and mug from the
+trunk, leaving them in evidence on the table. He worked stone-dust into
+his ears, behind his ears; he grimed it on forehead and neck; he even
+dropped a little into his shoes, which all this while had been
+performing independent miracles to make the camp look comfortable. He
+threw on a dingy cap, thrust in the cap a miner's candlestick, with a
+lighted candle, that it might properly drip upon him while he arranged
+further details--and so faced the world as Tobe Long, a stooped and
+overworked man!
+
+Mr. Tobe Long, working with feverish haste, dug a small cave half-way
+down the steep side of the dump farthest from the road and buried
+therein a tightly rolled bundle containing every article appertaining to
+the defunct Bransford, with the single exception of the little eohippus;
+a pocketknife, which a miner must have to cut powder and fuse, having
+been found in the trunk--what time also the little turquoise horse was
+transferred to Mr. Long's pocket to bring him luck in his new career--a
+poor thing compared with the cowman's keen blade, but better for
+Mr. Long's purposes, as smelling strongly of dynamite. Then Mr.
+Long--Tobe--hid the grave by sliding and shoveling broken rock down the
+dump upon it.
+
+Next he threw into a wheelbarrow drills, spoon, tamping stick, gads,
+drill-hammer, rock-hammer, canteen, shovel and pick--taking care, even
+in his haste, to select a properly matched set of drills--and trundled
+the barrow up the drift at a pace which would give a Miners' Union the
+rabies. At the breast, he unshipped his cargo in right miner's fashion,
+the drills in a graduated stepladder row along the wall; loaded the
+barrow with broken ore, a bit of charred fuse showing at the top, and
+wheeled it out at the same unprofessional gait, leaving it on the dump
+just above the spot where his late sepulchral rites had freshened the
+appearance of the sunbeaten dump.
+
+He next performed his ablutions in an amateurish and perfunctory
+fashion, scrupulously observing a well-defined waterline.
+
+"There!" said Mr. Long. "I near made a break that time!" He went back to
+the barrow and trundled it assiduously to the tunnel's mouth and back
+several times, carefully never in quite the same place--finally leaving
+it not above the sepulchered spoil, but near the ore stack, as befitted
+its valuable contents. "I got to think of everything. One wrong break'll
+fix me good!" said Mr. Long. He felt his neck delicately, as if he
+detected some foreign presence there. "In the tunnel, now, there's only
+the one place where the wheel can go; so it don't matter so much in
+there."
+
+The fire having now burned down to proper coals, Mr. Long set about
+supper; with the corner of his eye on the lookout for the pursuers of
+the late Bransford. He set the coffee-pot by the fire--they were now in
+the edge of the tar-brush; there were only two of them. He put on a pot
+of potatoes in their jackets--he could see them plainly, diminutive
+black horsemen twinkling through the brush; he sliced bacon into a
+frying-pan and put it aside to await his cue; he disposed other cooking
+ware in lifelike attitudes near the fire--they were in the long shadow
+of Double Mountain; their horses were jaded; they rode slowly. He
+dropped the sour-dough jar and placed the broken pieces where they would
+be inconspicuously visible. Having thus a perfectly obvious excuse for
+not having sour-dough bread, which requires thirty-six hours of running
+start for preliminary rising, Jeff--Mr. Tobe Long--mixed up a
+just-as-good baking-powder substitute--they rode like young men; they
+rode like young men not to the saddle born, and Tobe permitted himself a
+chuckle: "By hooky, I've got an even chance for my little bluff!"
+
+He shook his head reprovingly at himself for this last admission. With
+every minute he looked more like Tobe Long than ever--if only there had
+been any Tobe Long to look like. His mind ran upon nuggets, pockets,
+placers, faults, true fissure veins, the cyanide process, concentrates,
+chlorides, sulphides, assays, leases and bonds; his face took on the
+strained wistfulness which marks the confirmed prospector: he _was_ Tobe
+Long!
+
+The bell rang.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN
+
+     "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."
+
+                         --_The Dictionary._
+
+
+"Ho-o-e-ee! Hello-o!"
+
+As the curtain rose to the flying echoes Long stepped to the edge of the
+dump, frying-pan in hand, and sent back an answering shout in the
+startled high note of a lonely man taken unawares.
+
+"Hello-o!" He brandished his hospitable pan. Then he put it down, cupped
+hands to mouth and trumpeted a hearty welcome: "Chuck! Come up! Supper's
+ready!"
+
+"Can't! See any one go by about two hours ago?"
+
+"Hey? Louder!"
+
+"See a man on a sorrel horse?"
+
+"No-o! I been in the tunnel. Come up!"
+
+"Can't. We're after an outlaw!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"After a murderer!"
+
+"Wait a minute! I'll be down. Too hard to yell so far."
+
+Mr. Long started precipitately down the zigzag; but the riders had got
+all the information of interest that Mr. Long could furnish and they
+were eager to be in at the death.
+
+"Can't wait! He's inside the mountain, somewheres. Some of the boys are
+waiting for him at the other end." They rode on.
+
+Mr. Long posed for a statue of Disappointment, hung on the steep trail
+rather as if he might conclude to coil himself into a ball and roll down
+the hill to overtake them.
+
+"Stop as you come back!" he bellowed. "Want to hear about it."
+
+Did Jeff--Mr. Long--did Mr. Long now attempt to escape? Not so. Gifted
+with prevision beyond most, Mr. Long's mind misgave him that these young
+men would be baffled in their pleasing expectations. They would be back
+before sundown, very cross; and a miner's brogan leaves a track not to
+be missed.
+
+That Mr. Long was unfeignedly fatigued from the varied efforts of the
+day need not be mentioned, for that alone would not have stayed his
+flight; but the nearest water, save Escondido, was thirty-five miles;
+and at Escondido he would be watched for--not to say that, when he was
+missed, some of the searching party would straightway go to Escondido to
+frustrate him. Present escape was not to be thought of.
+
+Instead, Mr. Long made a hearty meal from the simple viands that had
+been in course of preparation when he was surprised, eked out by canned
+corn fried in bacon grease to a crisp, golden brown. Then, after a
+cigarette, he betook himself to sharpening tools with laudable industry.
+The tools were already sharp, but that did not stop Mr. Long. He built a
+fire in the forge, set up a stepladder of matched drills in the
+blackened water of the tempering tub; he thrust a gad and one short
+drill into the fire. When the gad was at a good cherry heat he thrust it
+hissing into the tub to bring the water to a convincing temperature; and
+when reheated he did it again. From time to time he held the one drill
+to the anvil and shaped it, drawing it alternately to a chisel bit or a
+bull bit. Mr. Long could sharpen a drill with any, having been, in very
+truth, a miner of sorts--he could toy thus with one drill without giving
+it any very careful attention, and his thoughts were now busy on how
+best to be Mr. Long.
+
+Accordingly from time to time he added an artistic touch to Mr.
+Long--grime under his fingernails, a smudge of smut on an eyebrow. His
+hands displeased him. After some experimenting to get the proper heat of
+it he grasped the partially cooled gad with the drill-pincers and held
+it very lightly to a favored few of those portions of the hand known to
+chiromaniacs as the mounts of Jupiter, Saturn and other extinct
+immortals.
+
+Satisfactory blisters-while-you-wait were thus obtained. These were
+pricked with a pin; some were torn to tatters, with dust and coal rubbed
+in to give them a venerable appearance. The pain was no light matter;
+but Mr. Long had a real affection for Mr. Bransford's neck, and it is
+trifles like these that make perfection.
+
+The next expedient was even more heroic. Mr. Long assiduously put
+stone-dust in one eye, leaving it tearful, bloodshot and violently
+inflamed; and the other one was sympathetically red. "Bit o' steel in my
+eye," explained Mr. Long. Unselfish devotion such as this is all too
+rare.
+
+All this while, at proper intervals, Mr. Long sharpened and resharpened
+that one long-suffering drill. He tripped into the tunnel and smote a
+mighty blow upon the country rock with a pick--therefore qualifying that
+pick for repointing--and laid it on the forge as next on the list.
+
+What further outrage he meditated is not known, for he now heard a horse
+coming up the trail. He was beating out a merry tattoo when a
+white-hatted head rose through a trapdoor--rose above the level of the
+dump, rather.
+
+Hammer in hand, Long straightened up joyfully as best he could, but
+could not straighten up the telltale droop of his shoulders. It was not
+altogether assumed, either, this hump. Jeff--Mr. Long--had not done so
+much work of this sort for years and there was a very real pain between
+his shoulderblades. Still, but for the exigencies of art, he might have
+borne his neck less turtlewise than he did.
+
+"Hello! Get him? Where's your pardner?"
+
+"Watching the gap." The young man, rather breathless from the climb,
+answered the last question first as he led his horse on the dump. "No,
+we didn't get him; but he can't get away. Hiding somewhere in the Basin
+afoot. Found his horse. Pretty well done up." The insolence of the
+outlaw's letter smote him afresh; he reddened. "No tracks going out of
+the Basin. Two of our friends guarding the other end. They say he can't
+get out over the cliffs anywhere. That so?" The speech came jerkily; he
+was still short of breath from his scramble.
+
+"Not without a flying machine," said Long. "No way out that I know of,
+except where the wagonroad goes. What's he done?"
+
+"Robbery! Murder! We'll see that he don't get out by the wagonroad,"
+asserted the youth confidently. "Watch the gaps and starve him out!"
+
+"Oh, speaking of starving," said Tobe, "go into the tent and I'll bring
+you some supper while you tell me about it. Baked up another batch of
+bread on the chance you'd come back."
+
+"Why, thank you very much, Mr.----"
+
+"Long--Tobe Long."
+
+"Mr. Long. My name is Gurdon Steele. Glad to meet you. Why, if you will
+be so kind--that is what I came up to see you about. If you can let us
+have what we need; of course we will pay you for it."
+
+"Of course you won't!" It had not needed the offer to place Mr. Gurdon
+Steele quite accurately. He was a handsome lad, fresh-complexioned,
+dressed in the Western manner as practised on the Boardwalk. "You're
+welcome to what I got, sure; but I ain't got much variety. Gwin, the old
+liar, said he was coming out the twentieth--and sure enough he didn't;
+so the grub's running low. Table in the tent--come on!"
+
+"Oh, no, I couldn't, you know! Rex--that's my partner--is quite as
+hungry as I am, you see; but if you could give me something--anything
+you have--to take down there? I really couldn't, you know!" The
+admirable doctrine of _noblesse oblige_ in its delicate application by
+this politeness, was easier for its practitioner than to put it into
+words suited to the comprehension of his hearer; he concluded lamely:
+"I'll take it down there and we will eat it together."
+
+"See here," said Tobe, "I'm as hungry to hear about your outlaw as you
+are to eat. I'll just throw my bedding and a lot of chuck on your
+saddle. We'll carry the coffee-pot and frying-pan in our hands--and the
+sugar-can and things like that. You can tank up and give me the news in
+small chunks at the same time. Afterward two of us can sleep while one
+stands guard."
+
+This was done. It was growing dark when they reached the bottom of the
+hill. The third guardsman had built a fire.
+
+"Rex, this is Mr. Long, who has been kind enough to grubstake us and
+share our watch with us."
+
+Mr. Steele, you have observed, had accepted Mr. Long without question;
+but his first impression of Mr. Long had been gained under circumstances
+highly favorable to the designs of the latter gentleman. Mr. Steele had
+come upon him unexpectedly, finding him as it were _in medias res_, with
+all his skillfully arranged scenery to aid the illusion. The case was
+now otherwise--the thousand-tongued vouching of his background lacked to
+him; Mr. Long had naught save his own unthinkable audacity to belie his
+face withal. From the first instant Mr. Rex Griffith was the prey of
+suspicions--acute, bigoted, churlish, deep, dark, distrustful, damnable,
+and so on down to zealous. He had a sharp eye; he wore no puttees; and
+Mr. Long had a vaguely uncomfortable memory, holding over from some
+previous incarnation, of having seen that long, shrewd face in a
+courtroom.
+
+The host, on hospitable rites intent, likewise all ears and eager
+questionings, was all unconscious of hostile surveillance. Nothing could
+be more carefree, more at ease than his bearing; his pleasant
+anticipatory excitement was the natural outlook for a lonely and
+newsless man. As the hart panteth for the water, so he thirsted for the
+story; but his impatient, hasty questions, following false scents,
+delayed the telling of the Arcadian tale. So innocent was he, so open
+and aboveboard, that Griffith, watching, alert, felt thoroughly ashamed
+of himself. Yet he watched, doubting still, though his reason rebelled
+at the monstrous imaginings of his heart. That the outlaw, unarmed and
+unasked, should venture--Pshaw! Such effrontery was inconceivable. He
+allowed Steele to tell the story, himself contributing only an
+occasional crafty question designed to enable his host to betray
+himself.
+
+"Bransford?" interrupted Mr. Long. "Not Jeff Bransford--up South Rainbow
+way?"
+
+"That's the man," said Steele.
+
+"I don't believe it," said Long flatly. He was sipping coffee with his
+guests; he put his cup down. "I know him, a little. He don't----"
+
+"Oh, there's no doubt of it!" interrupted Steele in his turn. He
+detailed the circumstances with skilful care. "Besides, why did he run
+away? Gee! You ought to have seen that escape! It was splendid!"
+
+"Well, now, who'd 'a' thought that?" demanded Long, still only half
+convinced. "He didn't strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you never
+can tell! How come you fellows to be chasin' him?"
+
+"You see," said Steele, "every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow.
+The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but we
+four--Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us, you
+know--we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were out
+early--sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me--and we had a
+spyglass. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between two
+hills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding a
+sorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. We
+didn't suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried to
+pick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid the
+ridges--keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after him
+pell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not to
+make a dust--that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out."
+
+"You're not deputies, then?" said Long.
+
+"Oh, no, not at all!" said Steele, secretly flattered. "So Harlow and
+Stone galloped off to town. The program was that they'd wire down to
+Escondido to have horses ready for them, come down on Number Six and
+head him off. They were not to tell any one in Arcadia. There's five
+thousand dollars' reward out for him--but it isn't that exactly. It was
+a cowardly, beastly murder, don't you know; and we thought it would be
+rather a big thing if we could take him alone."
+
+"You got him penned all right," said Tobe. "He can't get out, so far as
+I know, unless he runs over us or the men at the other end. By George,
+we must get away from this fire, too!" He set the example, dragging the
+bedding with him to the shelter of a big rock. "He could pick us off too
+slick here in the light. How're you going to get him? There's a heap of
+country in that Basin, all rough and broken, full o' boulders--mighty
+good cover."
+
+"Starve him out!" said Griffith. This was base deceit. Deep in his heart
+he believed that the quarry sat beside him, well fed and contented. Yet
+the unthinkable insolence of it--if this were indeed Bransford--dulled
+his belief.
+
+Long laughed as he spread down the bed. "He'll shoot a deer. Maybe, if
+he had it all planned out, he may have grub cached in there somewhere.
+There's watertanks in the rocks. Say, what are your pardners at the
+other side going to do for grub?"
+
+"Oh, they brought out cheese and crackers and stuff," said Gurd.
+
+"I'll tell you what, boys, you've bit off more than you can chaw," said
+Jeff--Tobe, that is. "He can't get out without a fight--but, then, you
+can't go in there to hunt for him without weakening your guard; and he'd
+be under shelter and have all the best of it. He'd shoot you so dead
+you'd never know what happened. I don't want none of it! I'd as lief put
+on boxing gloves and crawl into a hole after a bear! Look here, now,
+this is your show; but I'm a heap older'n you boys. Want to know what I
+think?"
+
+"Certainly," said Rex.
+
+"Goin' to talk turkey to me?" An avaricious light came into Long's eyes.
+
+"Of course; you're in on the reward," said Rex diffidently and rather
+stiffly. "We are not in this for the money."
+
+"I can use the money--whatever share you want to give me," said Long
+dryly; "but if you take my advice my share won't be but a little. I
+think you ought to keep under shelter at the mouth of this canyon--one of
+you--and let the other one go to Escondido and send for help, quick, and
+a lot of it."
+
+"What's the matter with you going?" asked Griffith disingenuously. He
+wanted Long to show his hand. It would never do to abandon the siege of
+Double Mountain to arrest this _soi-disant_ Long on mere suspicion. On
+the other hand, Mr. Rex Griffith had no idea of letting Long escape his
+clutches until his identity was established, one way or the other,
+beyond all question.
+
+That was why Long declined the offer. His honest gaze shifted. "I ain't
+much of a rider," he said evasively. Young Griffith read correctly the
+thought which the excuse concealed. Evidently Long considered himself an
+elder soldier, if not a better, than either of his two young guests, but
+wished to spare their feelings by not letting them find it out. Griffith
+found this plain solution inconsistent with his homicidal theory: a
+murderer, fleeing for his life, would have jumped at the chance.
+
+There are two sides to every question. Let us, this once, prove both
+sides. Wholly oblivious to Griffith's lynx-eyed watchfulness and his
+leading questions, Mr. Long yet recognized the futility of an attempt to
+ride away on Mr. Griffith's horse with Mr. Griffith's benison. There we
+have the other point of view.
+
+"We'll have to send for grub anyway," pursued the sagacious Mr. Long.
+"I've only got a little left; and that old liar, Gwin, won't be out for
+four days--if he comes then. And--er--look here now--if I was you boys
+I'd let the sheriff and his posse smoke your badger out. They get paid
+to tend to that--and it looks to me like some one was going to get hurt.
+You've done enough."
+
+All this advice was so palpably sound that the doubter was, for the
+second, staggered--for a second only. This was the man he had seen in
+the prisoner's dock. He was morally sure of it. For all the difference
+of appearance, this was the man. Yet those blasts--the far-seen
+fire--the hearty welcome--this delivery of himself into their hands?...
+Griffith scarcely knew what he did think. He blamed himself for his
+unworthy suspicions; he blamed Gurdy more for having no suspicions at
+all.
+
+"Anything else?" he said. "That sounds good."
+
+Tobe studied for some time.
+
+"Well," he said at last, "there may be some way he can get out. I don't
+think he can--but he might find a way. He knows he's trapped; but likely
+he has no idea yet how many of us there are. So we know he'll try, and
+he won't be just climbing for fun. He'll take a chance."
+
+Steele broke in:
+
+"He didn't leave any rope on his saddle."
+
+Tobe nodded.
+
+"So he means to try it. Now here's five of us here. It seems to me that
+some one ought to ride round the mountain the first thing in the
+morning, and every day afterward--only here's hoping there won't be many
+of 'em--to look for tracks. There isn't one chance in a hundred he can
+climb out; but if he goes out of here afoot we've got him sure. The man
+on guard wants to keep in shelter. It's light to-night--there's no
+chance for him to slip out without being seen. You say the old watchman
+ain't dead yet, Mr. Griffith?"
+
+"No. The latest bulletin was that he was almost holding his own."
+
+"Hope he gets well," said Long. "Good old geezer! Now, cap, I've worked
+hard and you've ridden hard. Better set your guards and let the other
+two take a little snooze."
+
+Griffith was not proof against the insidious flattery of this unhesitant
+preference. He flushed with embarrassment and pleasure.
+
+"Well, if I'm to be captain, Gurd will take the first guard--till
+eleven. Then you come on till two, Mr. Long. I'll stand from then on
+till daylight."
+
+In five minutes Mr. Long was enjoying the calm and restful sleep of
+fatigued innocence; but his poor captain was doomed to have a bad night
+of it, with two Bransfords on his hands--one in the Basin and one in the
+bed beside him. His head was dizzy with the vicious circle. Like the
+gentlewoman of the nursery rhyme, he was tempted to cry: "Lawk 'a' mercy
+on me, this is none of I!"
+
+If he haled his bedmate to justice and the real Bransford got away--that
+would be a nice predicament for an ambitious young man! He was sensitive
+to ridicule, and he saw here such an opportunity to earn it as knocks
+but once at any man's door.
+
+If, on the other hand, while he held Bransford cooped tightly in the
+Basin, this thrice-accursed Long should escape him and there should be
+no Bransford in the Basin----What nonsense! What utter twaddle!
+Bransford was in the Basin. He had found his horse and saddle, his
+tracks; no tracks had come out of the Basin. Immediately on the
+discovery of the outlaw's horse, Gurd had ridden back posthaste and held
+the pass while he, the captain, had gone to the mouth of the southern
+canyon and posted his friends. He had watched for tracks of a footman
+every step of the way, going and coming; there had been no tracks.
+Bransford was in the Basin. He watched the face of the sleeping man.
+But, by Heaven, this was Bransford!
+
+Was ever a poor captain in such a predicament? A moment before he had
+fully and definitely decided once for all that this man was not
+Bransford, could not be Bransford; that it was not possible! His reason
+unwaveringly told him one thing, his eyesight the other!... Yet
+Bransford, or an unfortunate twin of his, lay now beside him--and, for
+further mockery, slept peacefully, serene, untroubled.... He looked upon
+the elusive Mr. Long with a species of horror! The face was drawn and
+lined. Yet, but forty-eight hours of tension would have left
+Bransford's face not otherwise. He had noticed Bransford's hands in the
+courtroom--noticed their well-kept whiteness, due, as he had decided, to
+the perennial cowboy glove. This man's hands, as he had seen by the
+campfire, were blistered and calloused! Callouses were not made in a
+day. He took another look at Long. Oh, thunder!
+
+He crept from bed. He whispered a word to sentry Steele; not to outline
+the distressing state of his own mind, but merely to request Steele not
+to shoot him, as he was going up to the mine.
+
+He climbed up the trail, chewing the unpalatable thought that Gurdon had
+seen nothing amiss--yet Gurd had been at the trial! The captain began to
+wish he had never gone on that deerhunt.
+
+He went into the tent, struck a match, lit a candle and examined
+everything closely. There was no gun in the camp and no cartridges. He
+found the spill of twisted paper under the table, smothered his qualms
+and read it. He noted the open book for future examination in English.
+And now Tobe's labors had their late reward, for Rex missed nothing.
+Every effort brought fresh disappointment and every disappointment
+spurred him to fresh effort. He went into the tunnel; he scrutinized
+everything, even to the drills in the tub. The food supply tallied with
+Long's account. No detail escaped him and every detail confirmed the
+growing belief that he, Captain Griffith, was a doddering imbecile.
+
+He returned to the outpost, convinced at last. Nevertheless, merely to
+quiet the ravings of his insubordinate instincts, now in open revolt, he
+restaked the horses nearer to camp and cautiously carried both saddles
+to the head of the bed. Concession merely encouraged the rebels to
+further and successful outrages--the government was overthrown.
+
+He drew sentry Steele aside and imparted his doubts. That faithful
+follower heaped scorn, mockery, laughter and abuse upon his shrinking
+superior: recounted all the points, from the first blasts of dynamite to
+the present moment, which favored the charitable belief above mentioned
+as newly entertained by Captain Griffith concerning himself. This belief
+of Captain Griffith was amply indorsed by his subordinate in terms of
+point and versatility.
+
+"Of course they look alike. I noticed that the minute I saw him--the
+same amount of legs and arms, features all in the fore part of his head,
+hair on top, one body--wonderful! Why, you pitiful ass, that Bransford
+person was a mighty keen-looking man in any company. This fellow's a
+yokel--an old, rusty, cap-and-ball, single-shot muzzle-loader. The
+Bransford was an automatic, steel-frame, high velocity----"
+
+"The better head he has the more apt he is to do the unexpected----"
+
+"Aw, shut up! You've got incipient paresis! Stuff your ears in your
+mouth and go to sleep!"
+
+The captain sought his couch convinced, but holding his first opinion,
+savagely minded to arrest Mr. Long rather than let him have a gun to
+stand guard with. He was spared the decision. Mr. Long declined Gurdon's
+proffered gun, saying that he would be right there and he was a poor
+shot anyway.
+
+Gurdon slept; Long took his place--and Captain Rex, from the bed,
+watched the watcher. Never was there a more faithful sentinel than Mr.
+Long. Without relaxing his vigilance even to smoke, he strained every
+faculty lest the wily Bransford should creep out through the shadows.
+The captain saw him, a stooped figure, sitting motionless by his rock,
+always alert, peering this way and that, turning his head to listen.
+Once Tobe saw something. He crept noiselessly to the bed and shook his
+chief. Griffith came, with his gun. Something was stirring in the
+bushes. After a little it moved out of the shadows. It was a prowling
+coyote. The captain went back to bed once more convinced of Long's
+fidelity, but resolved to keep a relentless eye on him just the same.
+And all unawares, as he revolved the day's events in his mind, the
+captain dropped off to troubled sleep.
+
+Mr. Long woke him at three. There had been a temptation to ride away,
+but the saddles were at the head of the bed, the ground was stony; he
+would be heard. He might have made an attempt to get both guns from
+under the pillow, but detection meant ruin for him, since to shoot these
+boys or to hurt them was out of the question. Escape by violence would
+have been easy and assured. Jeff preferred to trust his wits. He was
+enjoying himself very much.
+
+When the captain got his relentless eyes open and realized what had
+chanced he saw that further doubt was unworthy. Half an hour later the
+unworthy captain stole noiselessly to Long's bedside and saw, to his
+utter rage and distraction, that Mr. Bransford was there again. It was
+almost too much to bear. He felt that he should always hate Long, even
+after Bransford was safely hanged. Bransford's head had slipped from
+Long's pillow. Hating himself, Griffith subtly withdrew the miner's
+folded overalls and went through the pockets.
+
+He found there a knife smelling of dynamite, matches, a turquoise carved
+to what was plainly meant to be the form of a bad-tempered horse, and
+two small specimens of ore!
+
+Altogether, the captain passed a wild and whirling night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN (_Continued_)
+
+     "If the bowl had been stronger
+     My tale had been longer."
+
+                         --_Mother Goose_.
+
+
+When the sun peeped over Rainbow Range, Captain Griffith bent over Tobe
+Long's bed. His eyes were aching, burned and sunken; the lids twitched;
+his face was haggard and drawn--but he had arrived at an unalterable
+decision. This thing could not and should not go on. His brain reeled
+now--another such night would entitle him to state protection.
+
+He shook Mr. Long roughly.
+
+"See here! I believe you're Bransford himself!"
+
+Thus taken off his guard, Long threw back the bedding, rose to one
+elbow, still half asleep, and reached for his shoes, laughing and
+yawning alternately. Then, as he woke up a little more, he saw a better
+way to dress, dropped the shoes and unfurled his pillow--which, by day,
+he wore as overalls. Fumbling behind him, where the pillow had lain, he
+found a much-soiled handkerchief and tenderly dabbed at his swollen eye.
+
+"Bit of steel in my eye from a drill-head," he explained. "Jiminy, but
+it's sore!"
+
+Plainly he took the accusation as a pleasantry calling for no answer.
+
+"I mean it! I'm going to keep you under guard!" said Captain Griffith
+bitingly.
+
+Poor, sleepy Tobe, half-way into his overalls, stared up at Mr.
+Griffith; his mouth dropped open--he was quite at a loss for words. The
+captain glared back at him. Tobe kicked the overalls off and cuddled
+back into bed.
+
+"Bully!" he said. "Then I won't have to get breakfast!"
+
+Gurdon Steele sat up in bed, a happy man. His eye gave Mr. Long a
+discreetly confidential look, as of one who restrains himself, out of
+instinctive politeness, from a sympathetic and meaningful tap of one's
+forehead. A new thought struck Mr. Long. He reached over behind Steele
+for the rifle at the bed's edge and thrust it into the latter's hands.
+
+"Here, Boy Scout! Watch me!" he whispered. "Don't let me escape while I
+sleep a few lines! I'm Bransford!"
+
+Gurdie rubbed his eyes and giggled.
+
+"Don't you mind Rex. That's the worst of this pipe habit. You never can
+tell how they'll break out next."
+
+"Yes, laugh, you blind bat!" said Rex bitterly. "I've got him all the
+same, and I'm going to keep him while you go to Escondido!" His rifle
+was tucked under his arm; he patted the barrel significantly.
+
+It slowly dawned upon Mr. Long that Captain Griffith was not joking,
+after all, and an angry man was he. He sat up in bed.
+
+"Oh, piffle! Oh, fudge! Oh, pickled moonshine! If I'm Bransford what the
+deuce am I doing here? Why, you was both asleep! I could 'a' shot your
+silly heads off and you'd 'a' never woke up. You make me tired!"
+
+"Don't mind him, Long. He'll feel better when he takes a nap," said Gurd
+joyfully. "He has poor spells like this and he misses his nurse. We
+always make allowances for him."
+
+Mr. Long's indignation at last overcame his politeness, and in his wrath
+he attacked friend and foe indiscriminately.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me you two puling infants are out hunting down a
+man you never saw? Don't the men at the other side know him either? By
+jinks, you hike out o' this after breakfast and send for some grown-up
+men. I want part of that reward--and I'm going to have it! Look here!"
+He turned blackly to Gurdon. "Are you sure that Bransford, or any one
+else, came in here at all yesterday, or did you dream it? Or was it all
+a damfool kid joke? Listen here! I worked like a dog yesterday. If you
+had me stand guard three hours, tired as I was, for nothing, there's
+going to be more to it. What kind of a sack-and-snipe trick is this,
+anyway? You just come one at a time and I'll lick the stuffin' out o'
+both o' you! I ain't feelin' like any schoolboy pranks just now."
+
+"No, no; that part's all straight. Bransford's in there, all right,"
+protested Gurdon. "If you hadn't been working in the tunnel you'd have
+seen him when he went by. Here's the note he left. And his horse and
+saddle are up at the spring. We left the horse there because he was lame
+and about all in. Bransford can't get away on him. Rex is just
+excited--that's all the matter with him. Hankering for glory! I told him
+last night not to make a driveling idiot of himself. Here, read this
+insolent note, will you?"
+
+Long glowered at the note and flung it aside. "Anybody could 'a' wrote
+that! How am I to know this thing ain't some more of your funny streaks?
+You take these horses to water and bring back Bransford's horse and
+saddle, and then I'll know what to believe. Be damn sure you bring them,
+too, or we'll go to producing glory right here--great gobs and chunks of
+it! You Griffith! put down that gun or I'll knock your fool head off!
+I'm takin' charge of this outfit now, and don't you forget it! And I
+don't want no maniac wanderin' round me with a gun. You go to gatherin'
+up wood as fast as ever God'll let you!"
+
+"Say, I was mistaken," said the deposed leader, thoroughly convinced
+once more. "You do look like Bransford, you know." He laid down his
+rifle obediently.
+
+"Look like your grandmother's left hind foot!" sneered the outraged
+miner. "My eyes is brown and so's Bransford's. Outside o' that----"
+
+"No, but you do, a little," said his ally, Steele. "I noticed it myself,
+last night. Not much--but still there's a resemblance. Poor Cap Griffith
+just let his nerves and imagination run away with him--that's all."
+
+Long sniffed. "Funny I never heard of it before," he said. He was
+somewhat mollified, nevertheless; and, while cooking breakfast, he
+received very graciously a stammered and half-hearted apology from young
+Mr. Griffith, now reduced to the ranks. "Oh, that's all right, kid. But
+say--you be careful and don't shoot your pardner when he comes back."
+
+Gurdon brought back the sorrel horse and the saddle, thereby allaying
+Mr. Long's wrathful mistrust that the whole affair was a practical joke.
+
+"I told you butter wouldn't suit the works!" said Rex triumphantly, and
+watched the working of his test with a jealous eye.
+
+Long knew his Alice. "'But it was the best butter,'" he said. He
+surveyed the sorrel horse; his eye brightened. "We'll whack up that
+blood-money yet," he announced confidently. "Now I'm going to walk over
+to the south side and get one of those fellows to ride sign round the
+mountain. You boys can sleep, turn and turn about, till I get back. Then
+I want Steele to go to Escondido and wire up to Arcadia that we've got
+our bear by the tail and want help to turn him loose, and tell Pappy
+Sanders to send me out some grub or I'll skin him. Pappy's putting up
+for the mine, you know. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Griffith." He
+gave that luckless warrior a jeering look, as one who has forgiven but
+not forgotten.
+
+"Why don't you ride one of our horses?" said Gurdon.
+
+"Want to keep 'em fresh. Then if Bransford gets out over the cliffs you
+can run him down like a mad dog," said Tobe. "Besides, if I ride a fresh
+horse in here he'll maybe shoot me to get the horse; and if he could
+catch you lads away from shelter maybe so he'd make a dash for it,
+a-shootin'. See here! If I was dodgin' in here like him--know what I'd
+do? I'd just shoot a few lines on general principles to draw you away
+from the gates. Then if you went in to see about it I'd either kill you
+if I had to, or slip out if you give me the chance. You just stay right
+here, whatever happens. Keep under shelter and keep your horses right
+by you. We got him bottled up and we won't draw the cork till the
+sheriff comes. I'll tell 'em to do the same way at the other end. I
+won't take any gun with me and I'll stick to the big main road. That way
+Bransford won't feel no call to shoot me. Likely he's 'way up in the
+cliffs, anyhow."
+
+"Ride the sorrel horse then, why don't you? He isn't lame enough to hurt
+much, but he's lame enough that Bransford won't want him." Thus Mr.
+Griffith, again dissimulating. Every detail of Mr. Long's plan
+forestalled suspicion. That these measures were precisely calculated to
+disarm suspicion now occurred to Griffith's stubborn mind. For he had a
+stubborn mind; the morning's coffee had cleared it of cobwebs, and it
+clung more tenaciously than ever to the untenable and thrice-exploded
+theory that Long and Bransford were one and inseparable, now and
+forever.
+
+He meditated an ungenerous scheme for vindication and, to that end,
+wished Mr. Long to ride the sorrel horse. For Mr. Long, if he were
+indeed the murderer--as, of course, he was--would indubitably, upon some
+plausible pretext, attempt to pass the guards at the farther end of the
+trip, where was no clear-eyed Griffith on guard. What more plausible
+that a modification of the plan already rehearsed--for Long to tell the
+wardens that Griffith had sent him to telegraph to the sheriff? Let him
+once pass those warders on any pretext! That would be final betrayal,
+for all his shrewdness. There was no possibility that Long and Bransford
+could complete their escape on that lame sorrel. He would not be allowed
+to get much of a start--just enough to betray himself. Then he,
+Griffith, would bring them back in triumph.
+
+It was a good scheme: all things considered, it reflected great credit
+upon Mr. Griffith's imagination. As in Poe's game of "odd or even,"
+where you must outguess your opponent and follow his thought, Mr. Rex
+Griffith had guessed correctly in every respect. Such, indeed, had been
+Mr. Long's plan. Only Rex did not guess quite often enough. Mr. Long had
+guessed just one layer deeper--namely, that Mr. Griffith would follow
+his thought correctly and also follow him. Therefore Mr. Long switched
+again. It was a bully game--better than poker. Mr. Long enjoyed it very
+much.
+
+Just as Rex expected, Tobe allowed himself to be overpersuaded and rode
+the sorrel horse. He renamed the sorrel horse Goldie, on the spot,
+saddled him awkwardly, mounted in like manner, and rode into the shadowy
+depths of Double Mountain.
+
+Once he was out of sight Mr. Griffith followed, despite the angry
+protest of Mr. Steele--alleging falsely that he was going to try for a
+deer.
+
+Tobe rode slowly up the crooked and brush-lined canyon. Behind him,
+cautiously hidden, came Griffith, the hawk-eyed avenger--waiting at each
+bend until Mr. Long had passed the next one, for closer observation of
+how Mr. Long bore himself in solitude.
+
+Mr. Long bore himself most disappointingly. He rode slowly and
+awkwardly, scanning with anxious care the hillsides before him. Not once
+did he look back lest he should detect Mr. Griffith. Near the summit the
+Goldie horse shied and jumped. It was only one little jump, whereunto
+Goldie had been privately instigated by Mr. Long's thumb--"thumbing" a
+horse, as done by one conversant with equine anatomy, produces
+surprising results!--but it caught Mr. Long unawares and tumbled him
+ignominiously in the dust.
+
+Mr. Long sat in the sand and rubbed his shoulder: Goldie turned and
+looked down at him in unqualified astonishment. Mr. Long then cursed Mr.
+Bransford's sorrel horse; he cursed Mr. Bransford for bringing the
+sorrel horse; he cursed himself for riding the sorrel horse; he cursed
+Mr. Griffith, with one last, longest, heart-felt, crackling,
+hair-raising, comprehensive and masterly curse, for having persuaded him
+to ride the sorrel horse. Then he tied the sorrel horse to a bush and
+hobbled on afoot, saying it all over backward.
+
+Poor Griffith experienced the most intense mortification--except one--of
+his life. This was conclusive. Bransford was reputed the best rider in
+Rainbow. This was Long. He was convinced, positively, finally and
+irrevocably. He did not even follow Mr. Long to the other side of Double
+Mountain, but turned back to camp, keeping a sharp eye out for traces of
+the real Bransford; to no effect. It was only by chance--a real
+chance--that, clambering on the gatepost cliffs to examine a curious
+whorl of gneiss, he happened to see Mr. Long as he returned. Mr. Long
+came afoot, leading the sorrel horse. Just before he came within sight
+of camp he led the horse up beside a boulder, climbed clumsily into the
+saddle, clutched the saddle-horn, and so rode into camp. The act was so
+natural a one that Griffith, already convinced, was convinced again--the
+more so because Long preserved a discreet silence as to the misadventure
+with the sorrel horse.
+
+Mr. Long reported profanely that the men on the other side had also been
+disposed to arrest him, and had been dissuaded with difficulty.
+
+"So I guess I must look some like Bransford, though I would never 'a'
+guessed it. Reckon nobody knows what they really look like. Chances are
+a feller wouldn't know himself if he met him in the road. That squares
+you, kid. No hard feelings?"
+
+"Not a bit. I certainly thought you were Bransford, at first," said
+Griffith.
+
+"Well, the black-eyed one--Stone--he's coming round on the west side
+now, cutting sign. You be all ready to start for Escondido as soon as he
+gets here, Gurd. Say, you don't want to wait for the sheriff if he's up
+on Rainbow. You wire a lot of your friends to come on the train at nine
+o'clock to-night. Sheriff can come when he gets back. There ain't but a
+few horses at Escondido. You get Pappy Sanders to send your gang out in
+a wagon--such as can't find horses."
+
+"Better take in both of ours, Gurd," said Griffith. He knew Long was all
+right, as has been said, but he was also newly persuaded of his own
+fallibility. He had been mistaken about Long being Bransford; therefore
+he might be mistaken about Long being Long. In this spirit of humility
+he made the suggestion recorded above, and was grieved that Long
+indorsed it.
+
+"And I want you to do two errands for me, kid. You give this to Pappy
+Sanders--the storekeeper, you know"--here he produced the little
+eohippus from his pocket--"and tell him to send it to a jeweler for me
+and get a hole bored in it so it'll balance. Want to use it for a
+watch-charm when I get a watch. And if we pull off this Bransford affair
+I'll have me a watch. Now don't you lose that! It's turquoise--worth a
+heap o' money. Besides, he's a lucky little horse."
+
+"I'll put him in my pocketbook," said Gurdon.
+
+"Better give him to Pappy first off, else you're liable to forget about
+him, he's so small. Then you tell Pappy to send me out some grub. I
+won't make out no bill. He's grubstakin' the mine; he'll know what to
+send. You just tell him I'm about out of patience. Tell him I want about
+everything there is, and want it quick; and a jar for sour dough--I
+broke mine. And get some newspapers." He hesitated perceptibly. "See
+here, boys, I hate to mention this; but old Pappy, him and this Jeff
+Bransford is purty good friends. I reckon Pappy won't much like it to
+furnish grub for you while you're puttin' the kibosh on Jeff. You better
+get some of your own. You see how it is, don't you? 'Tain't like it was
+my chuck."
+
+Stone came while they saddled. He spoke apart with Griffith as to Mr.
+Long, and a certain favor he bore to the escaped bank-robber; but
+Griffith, admitting his own self-deception in that line, outlined the
+history of the past unhappy night. Stone, who had suffered only a slight
+misgiving, was fully satisfied.
+
+As Steele started for the railroad Mr. Stone set out to complete the
+circuit of Double Mountain, in the which he found no runaway tracks. And
+Griffith and Long, sleeping alternately--especially Griffith--kept
+faithful ward over the gloomy gate of Double Mountain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+FLIGHT
+
+     "Keep away from that wheelbarrow--what the hell do you know
+     about machinery?"--ELBERT HUBBARD.[B]
+
+[Footnote B: It is not intimated that Mr. Hubbard wrote this--merely
+that he printed it.--AUTHOR.]
+
+
+Just after dark a horseman with a led horse came jogging round the
+mountain on the trail from Escondido. On the led horse was a pack bound
+rather slouchily, not to a packsaddle, but to an old riding saddle. The
+horses were unwilling to enter the circle of firelight, so the rider
+drew rein just beyond--a slender and boyish rider, with a flopping
+wide-brimmed hat too large for him.
+
+"Oh, look who's here!" said Tobe, as one who greets an unexpected
+friend.
+
+"Hello, Tobe! Here's your food, grub, chuck and provisions! Got your
+outlaw yet? Them other fellows will be out along toward midnight." He
+went on without waiting for an answer: "Put me on your payroll. Pappy
+said I was to go to work--and if you was going to quit work to hunt down
+his friend you'd better quit for good. Lead on to your little old mine.
+I don't know where it is, even."
+
+"I'll go up and unpack, Rex," said Tobe; "but, of course, I'm not going
+to lose my part of that five thousand. Pappy's foolish. He's gettin'
+old. I'll be back after a while and bring down the papers."
+
+Chatting of the trapped outlaw, the Ophir men climbed the zigzag to the
+mine. To Griffith, their voices dwindled to an indistinct murmur; a
+light glowed through the tent on the dump.
+
+The stranger pressed into Jeff's hand something small and hard--the
+little eohippus. "Here's your little old token. Pappy caught on at once
+and he sent me along to represent. Let's get this pack off and get out
+of here. Do we have to go down the same trail again?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Jeff. "There's a wood-trail leads round the mountain to
+the east. Who're you? I don't know you."
+
+"Charley Gibson. Pappy knows me. He sent the little stone horse to vouch
+for me. I'm O. K. Time enough to explain when we've made a clean
+getaway."
+
+"You're damn right there," Jeff said. "That boy down yonder is nobody's
+fool. I'll light a candle in the tent and he'll think I'm reading the
+newspapers. That'll hold him a while."
+
+"I'll be going on down the trail," said Gibson. "This way, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, that's the one. All right. Go slow and don't make any more noise
+than you can help."
+
+Jeff would have liked his own proper clothing and effects, but there was
+no time for resuscitation. Lighting the candle, he acquired "Alice in
+Wonderland" and thrust it into the bosom of his shirt. It had been years
+since last he read that admirable work; his way now led either to hiding
+or to jail--and, with Alice to share his fate, he felt equal to either
+fortune. He left the candle burning: the tent shone with a mellow glow.
+
+"If he didn't hear our horses coming down we're a little bit of all
+right," said Jeff, as he rejoined his rescuer on the level. "Even if he
+does, he may think we've gone to hobble 'em--only he'd think we ought to
+water 'em first. Now for the way of the transgressor, to Old Mexico.
+This little desert'll be one busy place to-morrow!"
+
+They circled Double Mountain, making a wide detour to avoid rough going,
+and riding at a hard gallop until, behind and to their right, a red
+spark of fire came into view from behind a hitherto intervening
+shoulder, marking where Stone and Harlow held the southward pass.
+
+Jeff drew rein and bore off obliquely toward the road at an easy trot.
+
+"They're there yet. So that's all right!" he said. "They've just put on
+fresh wood. I saw it flame up just then." He was in high feather. He
+began to laugh, or, more accurately, he resumed his laughter, for he
+had been too mirthful for much speech. "That poor devil Griffith will
+wait and fidget and stew! He'll think I'm in the tent, reading the
+newspapers--reading about the Arcadian bank robbery, likely. He'll wait
+a while, then he'll yell at me. Then he'll think we've gone to hobble
+the horses. He won't want to leave the gap unguarded. He won't know what
+to think. Finally he'll go up to the mine and see that pack piled off
+any which way, and no saddles. Then he'll know, but he won't know what
+to do. He'll think we're for Old Mexico, but he won't know it for sure.
+And it's too dark to track us. Oh, my stars, but I bet he'll be mad!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Which shows that we all make mistakes. Mr. Griffith, though young, was
+of firm character, as has been lightly intimated. He waited a reasonable
+time to allow for paper-reading, then he waited a little longer and
+shouted; but when there was no answer he knew at once precisely what had
+happened: he had not been a fool at all, whatever Steele and Bransford
+had assured him, and he was a bigger fool to have allowed himself to be
+persuaded that he had been. It is true that he didn't know what was best
+to do, but he knew exactly what he was going to do--and did it promptly.
+Seriously annoyed, he spurred through Double Mountain, gathered up Stone
+and Harlow, and followed the southward road. Bransford had been on the
+way to Old Mexico--he was on that road still; Griffith put everything on
+the one bold cast. While the others saddled he threw fresh fuel on the
+fire, with a rankling memory of the candle in the deserted tent and
+Hannibal at Saint Jo. For the first time Griffith had the better of the
+long battle of wits. That armful of fuel slowed Jeff from gallop to
+trot, turned assured victory into a doubtful contest; when the fugitives
+regained the El Paso road Griffith's vindictive little band was not five
+miles behind them.
+
+The night was lightly clouded--not so dark but that the pursuers
+noticed--or thought they noticed--the fresh tracks in the road when they
+came to them. They stopped, struck matches and confirmed their hopes:
+two shod horses going south at a smart gait; the dirt was torn up too
+much for travelers on their lawful occasions. From that moment Griffith
+urged the chase unmercifully; the fleeing couple, in fancied security,
+lost ground with every mile.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"How on earth did you manage it? Didn't they know you?" demanded Gibson
+as the pace slackened.
+
+"It wasn't me! It was Tobe Long! 'You may not have lived much under the
+sea, and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster,'" quoted
+Jeff. Rocking in the saddle, he gave a mirthful resume of his little
+evanishment. "And, oh, just think of that candle burning away in that
+quiet, empty tent! If I could have seen Griffith's face!" he gloated.
+"Oh me! Oh my!... And he was so sure!... Say, Gibson, how do you come in
+this galley?" As a lone prospector his speech had been fittingly coarse;
+now, with every mile, he shook off the debasing influence of Mr. Long.
+"Kettle-washing makes black hands. Aren't you afraid you'll get into
+trouble?"
+
+"Nobody knows I'm kettle-washing, except Pappy Sanders and you," said
+Gibson. "I was careful not to let your friend see me at the fire."
+
+"I'll do you a good turn sometime," said Jeff. He rode on in silence for
+a while and presently was lost in his own thoughts, leaning over with
+his hands folded on his horse's neck. In a low and thoughtful voice he
+half repeated, half chanted to himself:
+
+     "Illilleo Legardi, in the garden there alone,
+     There came to me no murmur of the fountain's undertone
+     So mystically, magically mellow as your own!"
+
+Another silence. Then Jeff roused himself, with a start.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Gibson, you'd better cut loose from me. So far as I
+can see, you are only a kid. You don't want to get mixed up in a murder
+scrape. This would go pretty hard with you if they can prove it on you.
+Of course, I'm awfully obliged to you and all that; but you'd better
+quit me while the quitting's good."
+
+"Oh, no; I'll see you through," said Gibson lightly. "Besides, I know
+you had nothing to do with the murder."
+
+"Oh, the hell you do!" said Jeff. "That's kind of you, I'm sure. See
+here, who'd sold you your chips, anyway? How'd you get in this game?"
+
+"I got in this game, as you put it, because I jolly well wanted to,"
+replied Charley, with becoming spirit. "That ought to be reason enough
+for anything in this country. Nothing against it in the rules--and I
+don't use the rules, anyhow. If you must have it all spelled out for
+you--I knew, or at least I'd heard, that your friends were away from
+Rainbow; so I judged you wouldn't go up there. Then I knew those four
+amateur Sherlocks--they're in my set in Arcadia. When two of the
+deerhunters, after starting at two A.M., came back to Arcadia the same
+morning they left, looking all wise and important, and slipped off on
+the train to Escondido, saying nothing to any one--and when the other
+two didn't come home at all--I began to think; went down to the depot,
+found they had gone to Escondido, and I came on the next train. I found
+out Pappy was your friend; and when he got your little hurry-up call I
+volunteered my services, seeing Pappy was too old and not footloose
+anyhow--with a wife and property. That's the how of it."
+
+"Oh, yes, that's all right; but what makes you think I'm innocent?"
+
+"I know Mr. White, you see. And Mr. White seems to think that at about
+the time the bank was robbed you were--in a garden!" Charley's voice was
+edged with faint mockery.
+
+"Huh!" said Jeff, startled. "Who in hell is Mr. White?"
+
+"Mr. White--in hell--is the devil!" said Charley.
+
+At this unexpected disclosure Jeff lashed his horse to a gallop--his
+spurs, you remember, being certain feet under the Ophir dump--and strove
+to bring his thoughts to bear upon this new situation. He slowed down
+and Charley drew up beside him.
+
+"You seem to have stayed quite a while--in a garden," suggested Charley.
+
+"That tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble yet," said Jeff.
+"You'll never live to be grayheaded."
+
+Charley was not to be daunted.
+
+"Say, Jeff, she's pretty easy to get acquainted with, what? And those
+eyes of hers--a little on the see-you-later style, aren't they?"
+
+Jeff turned in his saddle.
+
+"Now you look here, Mr. Charley Gibson! I'm under obligations to you,
+and so on--but I've heard all of that kind of talk that's good--_sabe_?"
+
+"Oh, I know her," persisted Charley. "Know her by heart--know her like a
+book. She made a fool of me, too. She drives 'em single, double, tandem,
+random and four abreast!"
+
+"You little beast!" Jeff launched his horse at the traducer, but Gibson
+spurred aside.
+
+"Stop now, Jeffy! Easy does it! I've got a gun!"
+
+"Shut your damn head then! Gun or no gun, don't you take that girl's
+name in your mouth again, or----Hark! What's that?"
+
+It was a clatter far behind--a ringing of swift hoofs on hard ground.
+
+"By George, they're coming! Griffith will be a man yet!" said Jeff
+approvingly. "Come on, kid; we've got to burn the breeze! I suppose that
+talk of yours is only your damn fool idea of fun, but I don't like it.
+Cut it out, now, and ride like a drunk Indian!" He laughed loud and
+long. "Think o' that candle, will you?--burning away with a clear,
+bright, steady flame, and nobody within ten miles of it!"
+
+They raced side by side; but Gibson, heedless of their perilous
+situation, or perhaps taking advantage of it, took a malicious delight
+in goading Jeff to madness; and he refused either to be silent or to
+talk about candles, notwithstanding Jeff's preference for that topic.
+
+"I'm not joking! I'm telling you for your own good." Here the tormentor
+prudently fell back half a length and raised his voice so as to be heard
+above the flying feet. "Hasn't she gone back to New York, I'd like to
+know, and left you to get out of it the best way you can? She could 'a'
+stayed if she'd wanted to. Don't tell me! Haven't I seen how she bosses
+her mother round? No, sir! She's willing to let you hang to save herself
+a little slander--or, more likely, a little talk!"
+
+Jeff whirled his horse to his haunches, but once more Gibson was too
+quick for him. Gibson's horse was naturally the nimbler of the two, even
+without the advantage of spurs.
+
+"That's a lie! She was going to tell--she was bound to tell; I made her
+keep silent. After I jumped out she couldn't well say anything. That's
+why I jumped. Was I going to make her a target for such vile tongues as
+yours--for me? Oh! You ought to be shot out of a red-hot cannon, through
+a barbed-wire fence, into hell! You lie, you coward, you know you lie!
+I'll cram it down your throat if you'll get off and throw that gun
+down!"
+
+"Yah! It's likely I'll put the gun down!" scoffed Gibson. "Ride on, you
+fool! Do you want to hang? Ride on and keep ahead! Remember, I've got
+the gun!"
+
+"Hanging's not so bad," snarled Jeff. "I'd rather be hung decently than
+be such a thing as you! Oh, if I just had a gun!"
+
+The sound of pursuit was clearer now; and, of course, the pursuers could
+hear the pursued as well and fought for every inch.
+
+Jeff rode on, furious at his helplessness. For several miles his
+tormentor raced behind in silence, fearing, if he persisted longer in
+his evil course, that Jeff would actually stop and give himself up. They
+gained now on their pursuers, who had pressed their horses overhard to
+make up the five-mile handicap.
+
+As they came to a patch of sandy ground they eased the pace somewhat.
+Charley drew a little closer to Jeff.
+
+"Now don't get mad. I had no idea you thought so much of the girl----"
+
+"Shut up, will you?"
+
+"----or I wouldn't have deviled you so. I'll quit. How was I to know
+you'd stop to fight for her with the very rope round your neck? It's a
+pity she'll never know about it.... You can't have seen her more than
+two or three times--and Heaven only knows where that was! On that
+camping trip, I reckon. What kind of a girl is she, anyhow, to hold
+clandestine interviews with a stranger?... She'll write to you by and
+by--a little scented note, with a little stilted, meaningless word of
+thanks. No, she won't. It'll be gushy: 'Oh, my hero! How can I ever
+repay you?' She won't let you out of her clutches--anybody, so long as
+it's a man! Here! None o' that!... Go on, now, if you want to live!"
+
+"_Who the hell wants to live?_"
+
+A noose flew back from the darkness. Jeff's horse darted aside and
+Gibson was jerked sprawling to the sand at a rope's end--hat flew one
+way, gun another. Jeff ran to the six-shooter.
+
+"Who's got the gun now?" he jeered, as he loosened the rope. "I only
+wish we had two of 'em!"
+
+"You harebrained idiot!" Charley grabbed up his hat and spit sand from
+his mouth. "Get your horse and ride, you unthinkable donkey!"
+
+"Pleasure first, business afterward!" Jeff unbuckled Gibson's gunbelt
+and transferred it to his own waist, jerking Gibson to his feet in the
+violent process. "Now, you little blackguard, you either take back all
+that or you'll get the lickin' o' your life! You're too small; but all
+the same----"
+
+"Oh, I'll take it back, you big bully--all I said and a lot more I only
+thought!" said Charley spitefully. He was almost crying with rage as he
+limped to his horse. "She's an angel on earth! Sure she is! Ride, you
+maniac--ride! Oh, you ought to be hung! I hope you do hang--you
+miserable ruffian!"
+
+The following hoofs no longer rang sharply; they took on a muffled
+beat--they were in the sand's edge not a mile behind.
+
+"Ride ahead, you! I've got the gun, remember!" observed Jeff
+significantly; "but if you slur that girl again I'll not shoot you--I'll
+naturally wear you out with this belt."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+GOOD-BY
+
+     "They have ridden the low moon out of the sky; their hoofs drum
+     up the dawn."--_Two Strong Men_, KIPLING.
+
+
+"I'm not speaking of her and I'm not going to," protested Gibson, in a
+changed tone. "I'll promise! My horse is failing, Jeff. I rode hard and
+fast from Escondido. Your horse carried nothing much but a saddle--that
+pack was mostly bluff, you know. And those fellows' horses have come
+twenty miles less than either of ours."
+
+No answer.
+
+"I don't believe we're going to make it, Jeff!" There was a forlorn
+little quaver in Charley's voice.
+
+Jeff grunted. "Uh! Maybe not. Griffith'll be real pleased."
+
+Gibson rode closer. "Can't we turn off the road and hide?"
+
+"Till daylight," said Jeff. "Then they'll get us. No way out of this
+desert except across the edges somewhere. You go if you want to. They
+won't bother to hunt for you, maybe, if they get me."
+
+"No. It's my fault.... I'll see it out.... I'm sorry, Jeff--but it was
+so funny!" Here, rather to Jeff's surprise, Charley's dejection gave
+place to laughter.
+
+They rode up a sandy slope where mesquites grew black along the road.
+Blown sand had lodged to hummocks in their thick and matted growth; the
+road was a sunken way.
+
+"How far is it from here, Jeff?"
+
+"Ten miles--maybe only eight--to the river. We're in Texas now--have
+been for an hour."
+
+"Think we can make it?"
+
+"_Quien sabe?_"
+
+Gibson drew rein. "You go on. Your horse isn't so tired."
+
+"Oh, I guess not!" said Jeff. "Come on."
+
+The sound of pursuit came clear through the quiet night. There was
+silence for a little.
+
+"What'll you do, Jeff? Fight?"
+
+"I can't!" said Jeff. "Hurt those boys? I couldn't fight, the way it
+is--hardly, even if 'twas the sheriff. I'll just hang, I reckon."
+
+They reached the top of the little slope and turned down the other side.
+
+"I don't altogether like this hanging idea," said Gibson. "I got you
+into this, Jeff; so I'll just get you out again--like the man in our
+town who was so wondrous wise. Going to use bramble bushes, too."
+Volatile Gibson, in the stress of danger, had forgotten his wrath. He
+was light-hearted and happy, frivolously gay. "Give me your rope and
+your gun, Jeff. Quick now! No, I won't mention your girl--not once!
+Hurry!"
+
+"What you going to do?" asked Jeff, thoroughly mystified.
+
+"Ever read the 'Fool's Errand'?" Charley chuckled. "No? Well, I have.
+Jump off and tie the end of your rope to that mesquite root. Quick!"
+
+He sprang down, snatched one end of the coil from Jeff's hand and
+stretched it taut across the road, a foot from the ground. "Now your
+gun! Quick!"
+
+He snatched the gun, tied an end of his own saddle-rope to the stretched
+one, near the middle, plunged through the mesquite, over a hummock,
+paying out his rope as he went; wedged the gun firmly in the springing
+crotch of a mesquite tree, cocked it and tied the loose end of the
+trailing rope to the trigger. He ran back and sprang on his horse.
+
+"Now ride! It's our last chance!"
+
+"Kid, you're a wonder!" said Jeff. "You'll do to take along! They'll
+lope up when they turn down that slope, hit that rope and pile in a
+heap!"
+
+"And my rope will fire the gun off!" shrilled joyous Charley. "They'll
+think it's us--an ambuscade----"
+
+"They'll take to the sand-hills," Jeff broke in. "They'll shoot into the
+bushes--they'll think it's us firing back, half the time.... They'll
+scatter out and surround that lonesome, harmless motte and watch it till
+daylight. You bet they won't go projecting round it any till daylight,
+either!" He looked up at the sky. "There's the morning star. See it?
+'They have ridden the low moon out of the sky'--only there isn't any
+moon--'their hoofs drum up the dawn.' Then they'll find our tracks--and
+if I only could see the captain's face! 'Oh, my threshings, and the corn
+of my floor!'... And by then we'll be in Mexico and asleep.... When
+Griffith finds that gun--oh, he'll never show his head in Arcadia
+again!... Say, Charley, I hope none of 'em get hurt when they strike
+your skip-rope."
+
+"Huh! It's sandy! A heap you cared about me getting hurt when you
+dragged me from my horse!" said Gibson, rather snappishly. "You did hurt
+me, too. You nearly broke my neck and you cut my arms. And I got full of
+mesquite thorns when I set that gun. You don't care! I'm only the man
+that came to save your neck. That's the thanks I get! But the men that
+are trying to hang you--that's different! You'd better go back. They
+might get hurt. You'll be sorry sometime for the way you've treated me.
+There--it's too late now!"
+
+A shot rang behind them. There was a brief silence. Then came a sharp
+fusillade, followed by scattering shots, dwindling to longer intervals.
+
+Jeff clung to his saddle-horn.
+
+"I guess they ain't hurt much," he laughed. "Wish I could see 'em when
+they find out! Slow down, kid. We've got lots of time now."
+
+"We haven't," protested Charley. "Keep moving. It's hard on the horses,
+but they'll have a lifetime to rest in. They've telegraphed all over the
+country. You want to cross the river before daylight. It would be too
+bad for you to be caught now! Is there any ford, do you know?"
+
+"Not this time of year. River's up."
+
+"Cross in a boat then?"
+
+"Guess we'd better. That horse of yours is pretty well used up. Don't
+believe he could swim it."
+
+"Oh, I'm not going over. I'll get up to El Paso. I've got friends
+there."
+
+"You'll get caught."
+
+"No, I won't. I'm not going across, I tell you, and that's all there is
+to it! I guess I'll have something to say about things. I'm going to see
+you safely over, and that's the last you'll ever see of Charley Gibson."
+
+"Oh, well!" Jeff reflected a little. "If you're sure you won't come
+along, I'd rather swim. My horse is strong yet. You see, it takes time
+to find a boat, and a boat means a house and dogs; and I'll need my
+horse on the other side. How'll you get to El Paso? Griffith'll likely
+come down here about an hour by sun, 'cross lots, a-cryin'."
+
+"I'll manage that," said Gibson curtly enough. "You tend to your own
+affair."
+
+"Oh, all right!" Jeff rode ahead. He whistled; then he chanted his war
+song:
+
+     "Said the little Eohippus:
+       'I'm going to be a horse!
+     And on my middle fingernails
+       To run my earthly course!'
+     The Coryphodon was horrified;
+       The Dinoceras was shocked;
+     And they chased young Eohippus,
+       But he skipped away and mocked.
+
+     "Said they: 'You always were as small
+       And mean as now we see,
+     And that's conclusive evidence
+       That you're always going to be.
+     What! Be a great, tall, handsome beast,
+       With hoofs to gallop on?
+     Why! You'd have to change your nature!'
+       Said the Loxolophodon."
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+"Well?" Jeff turned his head. Charley was drooping visibly.
+
+"Stop that foolish song!"
+
+Jeff rode on in silence. This was a variable person, Gibson. They were
+dropping down from the mesa into the valley of the Rio Grande.
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+Jeff fell back beside Charley. "Tired, pardner?"
+
+"Jeff, I'm terribly tired! I'm not used to riding so far; and I'm
+sleepy--so sleepy!"
+
+"All right, pardner; we'll go slower. We'll walk. Most there now.
+There's the railroad."
+
+"Keep on trotting. I can stand it. We must get to the river before
+daylight. Is it far?" Charley's voice was weary. The broad sombrero
+drooped sympathetically.
+
+"Two miles to the river. El Paso's seven or eight miles up the line.
+Brace up, old man! You've done fine and dandy! It's just because the
+excitement is all over. Why should you go any farther, anyhow? There's
+Ysleta up the track a bit. Follow the road up there and flag the first
+train. That'll be best."
+
+"No, no. I'll go all the way. I'll make out." Charley straightened
+himself with an effort.
+
+They crossed the Espee tracks and came to a lane between cultivated
+fields.
+
+"Jeff! I'd like to say something. It won't be breaking my promise
+really.... I didn't mean what I said about--you know. I was only
+teasing. She's a good enough girl, I guess--as girls go."
+
+Jeff nodded. "I did not need to be told that."
+
+"And you left her in a cruel position when you jumped out of the
+window. She _can't_ tell now, so long as there's any other way. What a
+foolish thing to do! If you'd just said at first that you were in the
+garden----Oh, why didn't you? But after the chances you took rather than
+to tell--why, Jeff, it would be terrible for her now."
+
+"I know that, too," said Jeff. "I suppose I was a fool; but I didn't
+want her to get mixed up with it, and at the same time I cared less
+about hanging than any time I can remember. You see, I didn't know till
+the last minute that the garden was going to cut any figure. And do you
+suppose I'd have that courthouseful of fools buzzing and whispering at
+her? Not much! Maybe it was foolish--but I'm glad I did it."
+
+"I'm glad of it, too. If you had to be a fool," said Charley, "I'm glad
+you were that kind of a fool. Are you still mad at me?"
+
+Since Charley had recanted, and more especially since he had taken
+considerate thought for the girl's compulsory silence, Jeff's anger had
+evaporated.
+
+"That's all right, pardner.... Only you oughtn't never to talk that way
+about a girl--even for a joke. That's no good kind of a joke. Men, now,
+that's different. See here, I'll give you an order to a fellow in El
+Paso--Hibler--to pay for your horses and your gun. Here's your belt,
+too."
+
+Charley shook his head impatiently. "I don't want any money. Settle
+with Pappy for the horses. I won't take this one back. Keep the belt.
+You may want it to beat me with sometime. What are you going to do,
+Jeff? Aren't you ever coming back?"
+
+"Sure I'll come back--if only to see Griffith again. I'll write to John
+Wesley Pringle--he's my mainest side pardner--and sick him on to find
+out who robbed that bank--to prove it, rather. I just about almost
+nearly know who it was. Old Wes'll straighten things out a-flying. I'll
+be back in no time. I got to come back, Charley!"
+
+The river was in sight. The stars were fading; there was a flush in the
+east, a smell of dawn in the air.
+
+"Jeff, I wish you'd do something for me."
+
+"Sure, Charley. What is it?"
+
+"I wish you'd give me that little turquoise horse to remember you by."
+
+Jeff was silent for a little. He had framed out another plan for the
+little eohippus--namely, to give him to Miss Ellinor. He sighed; but he
+owed a good deal to Charley.
+
+"All right, Charley. Take good care of him--he's a lucky little horse. I
+think a heap of him. Here we are!"
+
+The trees were distinct in the growing light. Jeff rode into the river;
+the muddy water swirled about his horse's knees. He halted for parting;
+Gibson rode in beside him. Jeff took the precious Alice book from his
+bosom, put it in the crown of his miner's cap and jammed the cap tightly
+on his head.
+
+"Better change your mind, Charley. Come along. We'll rout somebody out
+and order a dish of stewed eggs.
+
+     "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
+     The farther off from England the nearer 'tis to France;
+     Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
+     Will you--won't you----"
+
+"'No, I won't! I told you once!'" snapped the beloved snail.
+
+"Here's the little eohippus horse then." As Charley took it Jeff wrung
+his hand. "By George, I've got to change my notion of Arcadia people. If
+there's many like you and Griffith, Arcadia's going to crowd the map!...
+Well--so long!"
+
+"It looks awful wide, Jeff!"
+
+"Oh, I'll be all right--swim it myself if the horse plays out--and if I
+don't have no cramps, as I might, of course, after this ride. Well--here
+goes nothin'! Take care of the little horse. I hope he brings you good
+luck!"
+
+"Well--so long, then!"
+
+Bransford rode into the muddy waters. They came to the horse's breast,
+his neck; he plunged in, sank, rose, and was borne away down the swift
+current, breasting the flood stoutly--and so went quartering across to
+the farther bank. It took a long time. It was quite light when the horse
+found footing on a sandbar half a mile below, rested, and splashed
+whitely through the shallows to the bank. Gibson swung his sombrero.
+Jeff waved his hand, rode to the fringing bushes, and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE LAND OF AFTERNOON
+
+     "Dreaming once more love's old sad dream divine."
+
+
+Los Banos de Santa Eulalia Del Norte, otherwise known as Mud Springs, is
+a Mexican hamlet with one street of about the same length. Los Banos and
+Co. lies in a loop of the Rio Grande, half of a long day from El Paso,
+in mere miles; otherwise a contemporary of Damascus and Arpad.
+
+Thither, mindful of the hot springs which supply the preliminaries of
+the name, Mr. Bransford made his way: mindful too, of sturdy old Don
+Francisco, a friend twice bound by ancient service given and returned.
+
+He climbed the slow long ridges to the high _mesa_: for the river bent
+here in a long ox-bow, where a bold promontory shouldered far out to bar
+the way: weary miles were to be saved by crossing the neck of this
+ox-bow, and the tough horse tired and lagged.
+
+The slow sun rose as he reached the Rim. It showed the wide expanse of
+desert behind him, flooded with trembling light; eastward, beyond the
+river, the buttressed and fantastic peaks of Fray Cristobal; their
+jutting shadows streaming into the gulf beyond, athwart the silvery
+ribbon of gleaming water, twining in mazy loops across the valley floor:
+it showed the black Rim at his feet, a frowning level wall of lava
+cliff, where the plain broke abruptly into the chasm beneath; the iron
+desolation of the steep sides, boulder-strewn, savage and forbidding:
+
+     "_A land of old up-heaven from the abyss._"
+
+Long since, there had been a flourishing Mexican town in the valley. A
+wagonroad had painfully climbed a long ridge to the Rim, twisting,
+doubling, turning, clinging hazardously to the hillside, its outer edge
+a wall built up with stone, till it came to the shoulder under the
+tremendous barrier. From there it turned northward, paralleling the Rim
+in mile-long curve above a deep gorge; turning, in a last desperate
+climb, to a solitary gateway in the black wall, torn out by flood-waters
+through slow centuries. Smallpox had smitten the people; the treacherous
+river had devastated the fertile valley, and, subsiding, left the rich
+fields a waste of sand. The town was long deserted; the disused road was
+gullied and torn by flood, the soil washed away, leaving a heaped and
+crumbled track of tangled stone. But it was the only practicable way as
+far as the sand-hills, and Jeff led his horse down the ruined path,
+with many a turning back and scrambling detour.
+
+The shadows of the eastern hills drew back before him as he reached the
+sand-dunes. When he rode through the silent streets of what had been
+Alamocita, the sun peered over Fray Cristobal, gilding the crumbling
+walls, where love and laughter had made music, where youth and hope and
+happiness had been.... Silent now and deserted, given over to lizard and
+bat and owl, the smiling gardens choked with sand and grass, springing
+with _mesquite_ and _tornillo_; a few fruit trees, gnarled and tangled,
+drooping for days departed, when young mothers sang low lullaby beneath
+their branches.... Passed away and forgotten--hopes and fears, tears and
+smiles, birth and death, joy and sorrow, hatred and sin and shame,
+falsehood and truth and courage and love. The sun shone cheerfully on
+these gray ruins--as it has shone on a thousand such, and will shine.
+
+Jeff turned down the river, past the broken _acequias_, to where a
+massive spur of basaltic rock had turned the fury of the floods and
+spared a few fields. In this sheltered cove dwelt Don Francisco Escobar
+in true pastoral and patriarchal manner; his stalwart sons and
+daughters, with their sons and daughters in turn, in clustering _adobes_
+around him: for neighbors, the allied family of Gonzales y Ortega.
+
+A cheerful settlement, this of Los Banos, nestling at the foot of the
+friendly rampart, sheltered alike from flood and wind. South and west
+the close black Rim walled the horizon, the fantasy of Fray Cristobal
+closed in the narrow east: but northward, beyond the low sand-hills and
+the blue heat-haze, the high peaks of Organ, Guadalupe and Rainbow swam
+across the sleepy air, far and soft and dim.
+
+In their fields the _gente_ of Gonzales y Ortega and of Escobar raised
+ample crops of alfalfa, wheat, corn, _frijoles_ and _chili_, with
+orchard, vineyard and garden. Their cows, sheep and goats grazed the
+foothills between river and Rim, watched by the young men or boys,
+penned nightly in the great corrals in the old Spanish fashion; as if
+the Moor still swooped and forayed. Their horses roamed the hills at
+will, only a few being kept in the alfalfa pasture. They ground their
+own grain, tanned their cow-hides at home. Mattress and pillow were wool
+of their raising, their blankets and cloth their own weave. There were
+granaries, a wine-press, a forge, a cumbrous stone mill, a great _adobe_
+oven like a monstrous bee-hive.
+
+Once a year their oxen drew the great high-sided wagons up the sandy
+road to El Paso, and returned with the year's marketing--salt, axes,
+iron and steel, powder and lead, bolts of white domestic or _manta_ for
+sheets and shirtings, matches, tea, coffee, tobacco and sugar. Perhaps,
+if the saints had been kind, there were a few ribbons, trinkets or
+brightly colored prints of Joseph and Virgin and Child, St. John the
+Beloved, The Annunciation, The Children and Christ; perhaps an American
+rifle or a plow. But, for the most part, they held not with innovations;
+plowed, sowed and reaped as their fathers did, threshing with oxen or
+goats.
+
+The women sewed by hand, cooked on fireplaces; or, better still, in the
+open air under the trees, with few and simple utensils. The family ate
+from whitest and cleanest of sheepskins spread on the floor. But, the
+walls were snowy with whitewash, the earthen floors smooth and clean,
+the coarse linen fresh and white. The scant furniture of the rooms--a
+pine bed, a chair or two, a mirror, a brass candlestick (with home-made
+candles), a cheap print on the wall, a great chest for clothes, blankets
+and simple treasures, the bright fire in the cozy fireplace--all
+combined to give an indescribable air of cheerfulness, of homely comfort
+and of rest. This quiet corner, where people still lived as simply as
+when Abraham went up from Ur of the Chaldees, in the spring-time of the
+world, held, for seeing eyes, an incommunicable charm.
+
+When Jeff came at last to Casa Escobar, the cattle were already on the
+hills, the pigs and chickens far afield. Don Francisco, white-haired,
+erect, welcomed him eagerly, indeed, but with stately courtesy.
+
+"Is it thou indeed, my son? Now, my old eyes are gladdened this day.
+Enter, then, _amigo mio_, thrice-welcome--the house is thine in very
+truth. Nay, the young men shall care for thy horse."
+
+He raised his voice. Three tall sons, Abran, Zenobio, Donociano, came at
+the summons, gave Bransford grave greeting, and stood to await their
+father's commands. Fathers of families themselves, they presumed not to
+sit unbidden, to join in the conversation, or to loiter.
+
+Breakfast was served presently, in high state, on the table reserved for
+honored guests. Savory venison, chili, fish, eggs, _tortillas_, _etole_,
+_enchiladas_, cream and steaming coffee--such was the fare. Don
+Francisco sat gravely by to bear him company, while a silently hovering
+damsel anticipated every need.
+
+Thence, when his host could urge no more upon him, to the deep
+shading cottonwoods. Wine was brought and the "makings" of XXXX
+cigarettes--corn-husks, handcut; a great jar of tobacco; and a brazier
+of mesquite embers. At a little distance women washed, wove or sewed;
+the young men made buckskin, fashioned quirts, whips, ropes,
+bridle-reins, tie-straps, hobbles, pack-sacks and _chaparejos_ of
+raw-hide; made cinches of horse-hair; wrought ox-yokes, plow-beams and
+other things needful for their simple husbandry.
+
+Meanwhile, Don Francisco entertained his guest with grave and leisurely
+recital of the year's annals. Mateo, son of Sebastian, had slain a great
+bear in the Pass of All the Winds; Alicia, daughter of their eldest, was
+wed with young Roman de la O, of Canada Nogales, to the much healing of
+feud and ancient hatred; Diego, son of Eusebio, was proving a bold and
+fearless rider of wild horses, with reason, as behooved his father's
+son; he had carried away the _gallo_ at the _Fiesta de San Juan_, with
+the fleet dun colt "creased" from the wild bunch at Quemado; the herds
+had grown, the crops prospered, all sorrow passed them by, through the
+intercession of the blessed saints.
+
+The year's trophies were brought. He fingered with simple pride the
+great pelt of the silver-tip. Antlers there were and lion-skins,
+gleaming prisms of quartz, flint arrowheads and agates brought in by the
+shepherds, the costly Navajo blanket won by the fleet-limbed dun at
+Canada races.
+
+Hither came presently another visitor--Florentino, breaker of wild
+horses, despite his fifty years; wizened and withered and small, merry
+and cheerful, singer of forgotten folk-songs; chanting, even as he came,
+the song of Macario Romero--Macario, riding joyous and light-hearted,
+spite of warning, omen and sign, love-lured to doom and death.
+
+     "'Concedame una licencia
+       Voy a ir a ver a me Chata.'
+
+     "Dice Macario Romero,
+       Parando en los estribos:
+     'Madre, pues, esto voy a ver,
+       Si todos son mis amigos!'"
+
+And so, listening, weary and outworn, Jeff fell asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Observe now, how Nature insists upon averages. Mr. Jeff Bransford was,
+as has been seen, an energetic man; but outraged nerves will have their
+revenge. After making proper amends to his damaged eye, Jeff's remnant
+of energy kept up long enough to dispatch young Tomas Escobar y Mendoza
+to El Paso with a message to Hibler: which message enjoined Hibler at
+once to carry tidings to John Wesley Pringle, somewhere in Chihuahua,
+asking him kindly to set right what Arcadian times were out of joint, as
+he, Jeff, felt the climate of Old Mexico more favorable for his throat
+trouble than that of New Mexico; with a postscript asking Hibler for
+money by bearer. And young Tomas was instructed to buy, at Juarez, a
+complete outfit of clothing for Jeff, including a gun.
+
+This done, the reaction set in--aided, perhaps, by the enervating
+lassitude of the hot baths and the sleepy atmosphere of that forgotten
+village. Jeff spent the better part of a week asleep, or half awake at
+best. He had pleasant dreams, too. One--perhaps the best dream of
+all--was that on their wedding trip they should follow again the devious
+line of his flight from Arcadia. That would need a prairie schooner--no,
+a prairie steamboat--a prairie yacht! He would tell her all the hideous
+details--show her the mine, the camp of the besiegers, the ambuscade on
+the road. And if he could have Ellinor meet Griffith and Gibson for a
+crowning touch!
+
+After the strenuous violence of hand-strokes, here was a drowsy and
+peaceful time. The wine of that land was good, the shade pleasant, the
+Alician philosophy more delightful than of yore; he had all the
+accessories, but one, of an earthly paradise.
+
+Man is ungrateful. Jeff was a man; neglectful of present bounties, his
+dreaming thoughts were all of the absent accessory and of a time when
+that absence should be no more, nor paradise be empty.
+
+Life, like the Gryphon's classical master, had taught him Laughter and
+Grief. He turned now the forgotten pages of the book of his years.
+Enough black pages were there; as you will know well, having yourself
+searched old records before now, with tears. He cast up that long
+account--the wasted lendings, the outlawed debts, the dishonored
+promises, the talents of his stewardship, unprofitable and brought to
+naught; set down--how gladly!--the items on the credit side. So men have
+set the good upon one side and the evil on the other since Crusoe's
+day, and before; against the time when the Great Accountant, Whose
+values are not ours, shall strike a final balance.
+
+Take that book at your elbow--yes, either one; it doesn't matter. Now
+turn to where the hero first discovers his frightful condition--long
+after it has become neighborhood property.... He bent his head in
+humility. He was not worthy of her!... Something like that? Those may
+not be the precise words; but he groaned. He always groans. By-the-way,
+how this man-saying must amuse womankind! Yes, and they actually say it
+too--real, live, flesh-and-blood men. Who was it said life was a poor
+imitation of literature? Happily, either these people are insincere or
+they reconsider the matter--else what should we do for families?
+
+It is to be said that Jeff Bransford lacked this becoming delicacy. If
+he groaned he swore also; if he decided that Miss Ellinor Hoffman
+deserved a better man than he was, he also highly resolved that she
+should not have him.
+
+"For, after all, you know," said Jeff to Alice:
+
+     "I'm sure he's nothing extra--a quiet man and plain,
+     And modest--though there isn't much of which he could be vain.
+     And had I mind to chant his praise, this were the kindest line--
+     Somehow, she loves him dearly--this little love of mine!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+TWENTIETH CENTURY
+
+     "And there that hulking Prejudice
+       Sat all across the road.
+
+            *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "I took my hat, I took my coat,
+       My load I settled fair,
+     I approached that awful incubus
+       With an absent-minded air--
+     And I walked directly through him
+       As if he wasn't there!"
+
+                         --_An Obstacle_:
+                              CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON.
+
+
+Johnny Dines rode with a pleasant jingle down the shady street of Los
+Banos de Santa Eulalia del Norte. His saddle was new, carven, wrought
+with silver; his bridle shone as the sun, his spurs as bright stars; he
+shed music from his feet. Jeff saw him turn to Casa Escobar: apple
+blossoms made a fragrant lane for him. He paused at Jeff's tree.
+
+"_Alto alli!_" said Johnny. The words, as sharp command, can be managed
+in two brisk syllables. The sound is then: "_Altwai!_" It is a crisp and
+startling sound, and the sense of it in our idiom is: "Hands up!"
+
+Jeff had been taking a late breakfast _al fresco_; he made glad room on
+his bench.
+
+"Light, stranger, and look at your saddle! Pretty slick saddle, too.
+Guess your playmates must 'a' went home talking to themselves last
+night."
+
+"They're going to kill a maverick for you at Arcadia and give a
+barbecue," said Johnny. The cult of _nil admirari_ reaches its highest
+pitch of prosperity in the cow-countries, and Johnny knew that it was
+for him to broach tidings unasked.
+
+"Oh, that reminds me--how's old Lars Porsena?" said Jeff, now free to
+question.
+
+"Him? He's all right," said Johnny casually. "Goin' to marry one or more
+of the nurses. They're holdin' elimination contests now."
+
+"Say, Johnny, when you go back, I wish you'd tell him I didn't do it.
+Cross my heart and hope to die if I did!"
+
+"Oh, he knows it wasn't you!" said Johnny.
+
+Jeff shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Evidence was pretty strong--pretty strong! Who was it then?"
+
+"Why, Lake himself--the old hog!"
+
+"If Lake keeps on like this he's going to have people down on him," said
+Jeff. "Who did the holmesing--John Wesley?"
+
+"Oh, John Wesley! John Wesley!" said Dines scornfully. "You think the
+sun rises and sets in old John Wesley Pringle. Naw; he didn't get back
+till it was all over. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little
+hatchet!"
+
+"Must have had it sharpened up!" said Jeff. "Tell it to me!"
+
+"Why, there isn't much to tell," said Dines, suddenly modest. "Come to
+think of it, I had right considerable help. There was a young college
+chap--he first put it into my head that it wasn't you."
+
+"That would be the devil?" said Jeff, ignoring the insult.
+
+"Just so. Name's White--and so's he: Billy White, S. M. and G. P."
+
+"I don't just remember them degrees," said Jeff.
+
+"Aw, keep still and you'll hear more. They stand for Some Man and Good
+People. Well, as I was a-saying, Billy he seemed to think it wasn't you.
+He stuck to it that Buttinski--that's what he calls you--was in a garden
+just when the bank was robbed."
+
+Johnny contemplated the apple tree over his head. It was a wandering and
+sober glance, but a muscle twitched in his cheek, and he made no further
+explanation about the garden.
+
+"And then I remembered about Nigger Babe throwin' you off, and I began
+to think maybe you didn't crack the safe after all. And there was some
+other things--little things--that made Billy and Jimmy Phillips--he was
+takin' cards in the game too--made 'em think maybe it was Lake; but it
+wasn't no proof--not to say proof. And there's where I come in."
+
+"Well?" said Jeff, as Johnny paused.
+
+"Simple enough, once you knowed how," said Johnny modestly. "I'd been
+reading lots of them detective books--Sherlock Holmes and all them
+fellows. I got Billy to have his folks toll Lake's sister away for the
+night, so she wouldn't be scared. Then me and Billy and Jimmy Phillips
+and Monte, we broke in and blowed up Lake's private safe. No trouble at
+all. Since the bank-robbin' every one had been tellin' round just how it
+ought to be done--crackin' safes. Funny how a fellow picks up little
+scraps of useful knowledge like that--things you'd think he'd remember
+might come in handy most any time--and then forgets all about 'em. I
+wrote it down this time. Won't forget it again."
+
+"Well?" said Jeff again.
+
+"Oh, yes. And there was the nice money--all the notes and all of the
+gold he could tote."
+
+Jeff's eye wandered to the new saddle.
+
+"I kept some of the yellow stuff as a souvenir--half a quart, or maybe a
+pint," said Johnny. "I don't want no reward for doin' a good deed....
+And that's all."
+
+"Lake is a long, ugly word," said Jeff thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, what do you say?" prompted Johnny.
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Jeff. "You showed marvelous
+penetration--marvelous! But say, Johnny, if the money hadn't been there
+wouldn't that have been awkward?"
+
+"Oh, Billy was pretty sure Lake was the man. And we figured he hadn't
+bothered to move it--you being the goat that way. What made you be a
+goat, Jeff? That whole performance was the most idiotic break I ever
+knew a grown-up man to get off. I knew you were not strictly
+accountable, but why didn't you say, 'Judge, your Honor, sir, at the
+time the bank was being robbed I was in a garden with a young lady,
+talking about the hereafter, the here and the heretofore?'"
+
+"On the contrary, what made your Billy think it was Lake?"
+
+Johnny told him, in detail.
+
+"Pretty good article of plain thinking, wasn't it?" he concluded. "Yet
+he mightn't have got started on the right track at all if he hadn't had
+the straight tip about your bein' in a garden." Johnny's eye reverted to
+the apple tree. "Lake found your noseguard, you know, where you left it.
+I reckon maybe he saw you leave it there.--Say, Jeff! Lake's grandfather
+must have been a white man. Anyhow, he's got one decent drop of blood in
+him, from somewhere. For when we arrested him, he didn't say a word
+about the garden. That was rather a good stunt, I think. Bully for
+Lake, just once!"
+
+"Right you are! And, Mr. J. Dines, I've been thinking----" Jeff began.
+
+Johnny glanced at him anxiously.
+
+"----and I've about come to the conclusion that we're some narrow
+contracted and bigoted on Rainbow. We don't know it all. We ain't the
+only pebble. From what I've seen of these Arcadia men they seem to be
+pretty good stuff--and like as not it's just the same way all along the
+beach. There's your Mr. White, and Griffith, and Gibson--did I tell you
+about Gibson?"
+
+Johnny flashed a brilliant smile. His smiles always looked larger than
+they really were, because Johnny was a very small man.
+
+"I saw Griffith and he gave me his version--several times. He's real
+upset, Griffith.... Last time he told me, he leaned up against my neck
+and wept because there was only ten commandments!"
+
+"Didn't see Gibson, did you? You know him?"
+
+"Nope. Pappy picked him up--or he picked Pappy up, rather. Hasn't been
+seen since. I guess Gibby, old boy, has gone to the wild bunch. He
+wouldn't suspect you of bein' innocent, and he dreamed he dwelt in
+marble walls, makin' shoes for the state. So he gets cold feet and he
+just naturally evaporates--good night!"
+
+"Yes--he said he was going to hike out, or something to that effect,"
+responded Jeff absently--the fact being that he was not thinking of
+Gibson, at all, but was pondering deeply upon Miss Ellinor Hoffman. Had
+she gone to New York according to the original plan? It did not seem
+probable. Her face stood out before him--bright, vivid, sparkling, as he
+had seen her last, in the court room of Arcadia. Good heavens! Was that
+only a week ago? Seven days? It seemed seven years!--No--she had not
+gone--at least, certainly not until she was sure that he, Jeff, had made
+good his escape. Then, perhaps, she might have gone. Perhaps her mother
+had made her go. Oh, well!--New York wasn't far, as he had told her that
+first wonderful day on Rainbow Rim. What a marvelous day that was!
+
+Jeff was suddenly struck with the thought that he had never seen
+Ellinor's mother. Great Scott! She had a father, too! How annoying! He
+meditated upon this unpleasant theme for a space. Then, as if groping in
+a dark room, he had suddenly turned on the light, his thought changed
+to--_What a girl! Ah, what a wonderful girl! Where is she?_
+
+Looking up, Jeff became once more aware of Johnny Dines, leg curled
+around the horn of the new saddle, elbow on knee, cheek on hand,
+contemplating his poor friend with benevolent pity. And then Jeff knew
+that he could make no queries of Johnny Dines.
+
+Johnny spake soothingly.
+
+"You are in North America. This is the Twentieth Century. Your name is
+Bransford. That round bright object is the sun. This direction is East.
+This way is called 'up.' This is a stream of water that you see. It is
+called the Rio River Grand Big. We are advertised by our loving friends.
+I cannot sing the old songs. There's a reason. Two of a kind flock
+together. Never trump your pardner's ace. It's a wise child that dreads
+the fire. Wake up! Come out of it! Change cars!"
+
+"I ought to kill you," said Jeff. "Now giggle, you idiot, and make
+everybody hate you!--Wait till I say _Adios_ to my old compadre and the
+rest of the Escobar _gente_ and I'll side you to El Paso."
+
+"Not I. Little Johnny, he'll make San Elizario ferry by noon and Helm's
+by dark. Thought maybe so you'd be going along."
+
+"Why, no," said Jeff uneasily. "I guess maybe I'll go up to El Paso and
+june around a spell."
+
+"Oh, well--just as you say! Such bein' the case, I'll be jogging."
+
+"Better wait till after dinner--I'll square it with Don Francisco if ...
+anything's missing."
+
+"No--that makes too long a jaunt for this afternoon. Me for San
+Elizario. So long!"
+
+But beyond the first _acequia_ he turned and rode back.
+
+"Funny thing, Jeff! Remember me telling you about a girl I saw on
+Mayhill, the day Nigger Babe throwed you off? Now, what was that girl's
+name?--I've forgotten again. Oh, yes!--Hoffman--Miss Ellinor Hoffman.
+Well--she's at Arcadia still. The mother lady was all for going back to
+New York--but, no, sir! Girl says she's twenty-one, likes Arcadia, and
+she's going to stay a spell. Leastwise, so I hear."
+
+"I _will_ kill you!" said Jeff. "Here, wait till I saddle my nag and say
+good-by."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Beyond San Elizario, as they climbed the Pass of All the Winds, the two
+friends halted to breathe their horses.
+
+"Jeff," said Johnny, rather soberly, "you can kick me after I say my
+little piece--I'll think poorly of you if you don't--but ain't you
+making maybe a mistake? That girl, now--nice girl, and all that--but
+that girl's got money, Jeff."
+
+"I hate a fool worse than a knave, any day in the week," said Jeff: "and
+the man that would let money keep him from the only girl--why, Johnny,
+he's so much more of a fool than the other fellow is a scoundrel----"
+
+"I get you!" said Johnny. "You mean that a submarine boat is better
+built for roping steers than a mogul engine is skilful at painting
+steeples, and you wonder if you can't get a fresh horse somewhere and
+go on through to Arcadia to-night?"
+
+"Something like that," admitted Jeff. "Besides," he added lightly,
+"while I'd like that girl just as well if I didn't have a cent--why, as
+it happens, I'm pretty well fixed, myself. I've got money to throw at
+the little dicky-birds--all kinds of money. Got a fifty-one-per-cent
+interest in a copper mine over in Harqua Hala that's been payin' me all
+the way from ten to five thousand clear per each and every year for the
+last seven years, besides what I pay a lad for lookout to keep anybody
+but himself from stealing any of it. He's been buyin' real estate for me
+in Los Angeles lately."
+
+Johnny's jaw dropped in unaffected amazement.
+
+"All this while? Before you and Leo hit Rainbow?"
+
+"Sure!" said Jeff.
+
+"And you workin' for forty a month and stealin' your own beef?--then
+saving up and buying your little old brand along with Beebe and Leo and
+old Wes', joggin' along, workin' like a yaller dog with fleas?"
+
+"Why not? Wasn't I having a heap of fun? Where can I see any better time
+than I had here, or find better friends? Money's no good by itself. I
+haven't drawn a dollar from Arizona since I left. It was fun to make the
+mine go round at first; but when it got so it'd work I looked for
+something else more amusing."
+
+"I should think you'd want to travel, anyhow."
+
+"Travel?" echoed Jeff. "Travel? Why, you damn fool, I'm here now!"
+
+"Will you stay here, if you marry her, Jeff?"
+
+"So you've no objection to make, if I've got a few dollars? That squares
+everything all right, does it? Not a yeep of protest from you now? See
+here, you everlasting fool! I'm just the same man I was fifteen minutes
+ago when you thought I didn't have any money. If I'm fit for her now, I
+was then. If I wasn't good enough then, I'm not good enough now."
+
+"But I wasn't thinking of her--I was thinking of--how it would look."
+
+"Look? Who cares how it looks? Just a silly prejudice! 'They say--what
+say they--let them say!' Johnny, maybe I was just stringin' you. If I
+was lying about the money--how about it then? Changed your mind again?"
+
+"You wasn't lyin', was you?"
+
+"Shan't tell you! It doesn't really make any difference, anyhow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AT THE RAINBOW'S END
+
+     "Helen's lips are drifting dust;
+     Ilion is consumed with rust;
+     All the galleons of Greece
+     Drink the ocean's dreamless peace;
+     Lost was Solomon's purple show
+     Restless centuries ago;
+     Stately empires wax and wane--
+     Babylon, Barbary and Spain--
+     Only one thing, undefaced,
+     Lasts, though all the worlds lie waste
+     And the heavens are overturned,
+     --Dear, how long ago we learned!"
+
+                         --FREDERICK LAWRENCE KNOWLES.
+
+
+Starlit and moonlight leagues, the slow, fresh dawn; in the cool of the
+morning, Bransford came to the crest of the ground-swell known as
+Frenchman's Ridge, and saw low-lying Arcadia dim against the north, a
+toy town huddling close to the shelter of Rainbow Range; he splashed
+through the shallow waters of Alamo, failing to a trickle before it sank
+in the desert sands; and so came at last to the moat of Arcadia. With
+what joyous and eager-choking heart-beat you may well guess: not the
+needlessness of those swift pulses or of that joy. For Ellinor was not
+there. With Mrs. Hoffman, she had gone to visit the Sutherlands at
+Rainbow's End. And Jeff could not go on. Arcadia rose to greet him in
+impromptu Roman holiday.
+
+Poor Bransford has never known clearly what chanced on that awful day.
+There is a jumbled, whirling memory of endless kaleidoscopic troops of
+joyful Arcadians: Billy White, Monte, Jimmy, Clarke, the grim-smiling
+sheriff, the judge. It was dimly borne upon him by one or both of the
+two last, that there were yet certain formalities to be observed in the
+matter of his escape from custody of the Law and of the horse he had
+borrowed from the court house square. Indeed, it seemed to Jeff, in a
+hazy afterthought, that perhaps the sheriff had arrested him again. If
+so, it had slipped Jeff's mind, swallowed up in a gruesome horror of
+congratulations, hand-shakings, back-slappings, badinage and questions;
+heaped on a hero heartsick, dazed and dumb. Pleading weariness, he tore
+himself away at last, almost by violence, and flung himself down in a
+darkened bedroom of the Arcadian Atalanta.
+
+One thing was clear. Headlight was there, Aforesaid Smith, Madison: but
+his nearest friends, Pringle, Beebe and Ballinger, though they had
+hasted back to Arcadia to fight Jeff's battles, were ostentatiously
+absent from his hollow and hateful triumph: Johnny Dines had pointedly
+refused to share his night ride from Helm's: and Jeff knew why, sadly
+enough. The gods take pay for the goods they give: and now that goodly
+fellowship was broken. The thought clung fast: it haunted his tossing
+and troubled slumbers, where Ellinor came through a sunset glow,
+swift-footed to meet him: where his friends rode slow and silent into
+the glimmering dusk, smaller and smaller, black against the sky.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Sutherland place made an outer corner of Rainbow's End, bowered
+about by a double row of close and interlaced cottonwoods on two sides,
+by vigorous orchards on the other two.
+
+The house had once been a one-storied adobe, heroically proportioned,
+thick-walled, cool against summer, warm in what went by the name of
+winter. The old-time princely hospitality was unchanged, but Sutherland
+had bought lots in Arcadia of early days; and now, the old gray walls of
+the house were smooth with creamy stucco, wrought of gypsum from the
+White Sands; the windows were widened and there was a superimposed
+story, overhanging, wide and low. The gables were double-windowed,
+shingled and stained nut-brown, the gently sloping roof shingled,
+dormered and soft green: the overflow projecting to broad verandas on
+either side, very like an umbrella: a bungalow with two birthdays--1866
+: 1896.
+
+Miss Ellinor Hoffman had deserted veranda, rocking-chair and hammock.
+With a sewing basket beside her, she sat on a pine bench under a
+cottonwood of 1867, ostensibly basting together a kimono tinted like a
+dripping sea shell, and faced with peach-blossom.
+
+The work went slowly. Her seat was at the desert corner of the homestead
+which was itself the desert outpost of a desert town: and her blood
+stirred to these splendid horizons. The mysterious desert scoffed and
+questioned, drew her with promise of strange joys and strange griefs.
+The iron-hard mountains beckoned and challenged from afar, wove her
+their spells of wavering lights and shadows; the misty warp and woof of
+them shifting to swift fantastic hues of trembling rose and blue and
+violet, half-veiling, half-revealing, steeps unguessed and dreamed-of
+sheltered valleys--and all the myriad-voice of moaning waste and
+world-rimming hill cried "Come!"
+
+Faint, fitful undertone of drowsy chords, far pealing of elfin bells;
+that was pulsing of busy _acequias_, tinkling of mimic waterfalls. The
+clean breath of the desert crooned by, bearing a grateful fragrance of
+apple-blossoms near; it rippled the deepest green of alfalfa to
+undulating sheen of purple and flashing gold.
+
+The broad fields were dwarfed to play-garden prettiness by the vastness
+of overwhelming desert, to right, to left, before; whose nearer
+blotches of black and gray and brown faded, far off, to a nameless
+shimmer, its silent leagues dwindling to immeasurable blur, merging
+indistinguishable in the burning sunset.
+
+"East by up," overguarding the oasis, the colossal bulk of Rainbow
+walled out the world with grim-tiered cliffs, cleft only by the
+deep-gashed gates of Rainbow Pass, where the swift river broke through
+to the rich fields of Rainbow's End, bringing fulfilment of the fabled
+pot of gold--or, unused, to shrink and fail and die in the thirsty sand.
+
+Below, the whilom channel wandered forlorn--Rainbow no longer, but Lost
+River--to a disconsolate delta, waterless save as infrequent floods
+found turbulent way to the Sink, when wild horse and antelope revisited
+their old haunts for the tender green luxury of these brief, belated
+springs.
+
+Incidentally, Miss Hoffman's outpost commanded a good view of Arcadia
+road, winding white through the black tar-brush. Had she looked, she
+might have seen a slow horseman, tiny on the bare plain below the
+tar-brush, larger as he climbed the gentle slope along that
+white-winding road.
+
+But she bent industrious to her work, smiling to herself, half-singing,
+half-humming a foolish and lilty little tune:
+
+     "A tisket, a tasket--a green and yellow basket;
+     I wrote a letter to my love and on the road I lost it--
+     I crissed it, I crossed it--I locked it in a casket;
+     I missed it, I lost it----"
+
+And here Miss Hoffman did an unaccountable thing. Wise Penelope
+unraveled by night the work she wove by day. Like her in this, Miss
+Ellinor Hoffman now placidly snipped and ripped the basting threads,
+unraveled them patiently, and set to work afresh.
+
+     "Now, there's no such thing as a Ginko tree;
+     There never was--though there ought to be.
+     And 'tis also true, though most absurd,
+     There's no such thing as a Wallabye bird!"
+
+Miss Hoffman was all in white, with a white middy blouse trimmed in
+scarlet, a scarlet ribbon in her dark hair: a fine-linked gold chain
+showed at her neck. A very pretty picture she made, cool and fresh
+against the deep shade and the green--but of course she did not know it.
+She held the shaping kimono at arm's length, admiring the delicate
+color, and fell to work again.
+
+     "Oh, the jolly miller, he lives by himself!
+     As the wheel rolls around he gathers in his pelf,
+     A hand in the hopper and another in the bag--
+     As the wheel rolls around he calls out, '_Grab!_'"
+
+So intent and preoccupied was she, that she did not hear the approaching
+horse.
+
+"Good evening!"
+
+"Oh!" Miss Hoffman jumped, dropping the long-suffering kimono. A
+horseman, with bared head, had reined up in the shaded road alongside.
+"How silly of me not to hear you coming! If you're looking for Mr.
+Sutherland, he's not here--Mr. David Sutherland, that is. But Mr. Henry
+Sutherland is here--or was awhile ago--maybe half an hour since. He was
+trying to get up a set of tennis. Perhaps they're playing--over there on
+the other side of the house. And yet, if they were there, we'd hear them
+laughing--don't you think?"
+
+Mr. Bransford--for it was Mr. Bransford, and he was all dressed in
+clothes--waited with extreme patience for the conclusion of these
+feverish and hurried remarks.
+
+"But I'm not looking for Sutherland. I'm looking for you!"
+
+"Oh!" said Ellinor again. Then, after a long and deliberate survey, the
+light of recognition dawned slowly in her eyes. "Oh, I _do_ know you,
+don't I? To be sure I do! You're Mr.----the gentleman I met on Rainbow
+Mountain, near Mayhill,--Mr.--ah yes--Bransford!"
+
+"Why, so I am!" said Jeff, leaning on the saddle-horn. One half of Mr.
+Bransford wondered if he had not been making a fool of himself and
+taking a great deal for granted: the other half, though considerably
+alarmed, was not at all deceived.
+
+Miss Ellinor did not actually put her finger in the corner of her
+mouth--she merely looked as if she had. "Ah!--Won't you ... get down?"
+she said helplessly. "What a beautiful horse!"
+
+"Why, yes--thank you--I believe I will."
+
+He left the beautiful horse to stand with dangling reins, and came over
+to the bench, silent and rather grim.
+
+"Won't you sit down?" said Ellinor politely. "Fine day, isn't it?"
+
+"It's a wonderful day--a marvelous day--a stupendous day!" said this
+exasperated young man. "No, I guess it's not worth while to sit down. I
+just wanted to find out where you lived. I asked you once before, you
+know, and you didn't tell me."
+
+"Didn't I? Oh, do sit down! You look so grumpy--tired, I mean." Rather
+grudgingly, she swept the sewing basket from the bench to the grass.
+
+Jeff's eyes followed the action. He saw--if you call it seeing--the
+snipped threads on the grass, the yet unpicked bastings, white against
+the peach-pink facing; but he was a mere man, hardly-circumstanced, and
+these eloquent tidings were wasted upon his clumsy intellect: as had
+been the surprising good fortune of finding Miss Ellinor exactly where
+she was.
+
+Nerving himself with memory of the Quaker Lady at the masquerade--if,
+indeed, that had ever really happened--Jeff took the offered seat.
+
+The young lady matched two edges together, smoothed them, eyed the
+result critically, and plied a nimble needle. Then she turned clear and
+guileless eyes on her glooming seatmate.
+
+"You look older, somehow, than I thought you were, now that I remember,"
+she observed, biting the thread. "You've been away, haven't you?"
+
+"Thought you were going away, yourself, so wild and fierce?" said Jeff,
+evading.--_Been away, indeed!_
+
+Ellinor threaded her needle.
+
+"Mamma _was_ talking of going for a while," she said tranquilly. "But
+I'm rather glad we didn't. We're having a splendid time here--and Mr.
+White's going to take us to the White Sands next week. He'll be down
+to-morrow--at least I think so. He's fine! He took us to Mescalero early
+in the spring. And the young people here at Rainbow's End are simply
+delightful. You must meet some of them. Listen! There they are now--I
+hear them. They _are_ playing tennis. Come on up and I'll introduce you.
+I can finish this thing any time." She tossed the poor kimono into the
+basket.
+
+"No," said this unhappy young man, rising. "I believe I'll go on back.
+Good-by, Miss Ell--Miss Hoffman. I wish you much happiness!"
+
+"Why--surely you're not going now? There are some nice girls here--they
+have heard so much of you, but they say they've never met you. Don't
+you want----"
+
+Jeff groaned, fumbling blindly at the bridle. "No, I wish I'd never seen
+a girl!"
+
+"Why-y! That's not very polite, is it?----Are--are you--mad to me?" said
+Ellinor in a meek little voice.
+
+"Mad? No," said Jeff bitterly. "I'm just coming to my senses. I've been
+dreaming. Now I've woke up!"
+
+"Angry, I mean, of course. I just say it that way--'are you mad to
+me'--sometimes--to be--to be--nice, Mr. Bransford!"
+
+"You needn't bother! Good-by!"
+
+"But I'll see you again----"
+
+"_Never!_"
+
+"----when you're not so--cross?"
+
+Jeff reached for his stirrup.
+
+"Oh, well! If you're going to be huffy! Never it is, then, by all means!
+No--wait! I must give you back your present."
+
+"I have never given you a present. Some other man, doubtless. You should
+keep a list!" said Jeff, with bitter and cutting scorn.
+
+The girl turned half away from him and hid her face with trembling
+hands; her shoulders shook with emotion.
+
+"Look the other way, sir! Turn your head! You shall have your present
+back and then if you're so anxious to go--Go!"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, I never gave you a present in my life," Jeff protested.
+
+"You did!" sobbed Ellinor. She turned upon him, stamping her foot. "You
+said, when you gave it to me, that you hoped it would bring me good
+luck. And you've forgotten! _You'd_ better keep a list! Turn your head
+away, I tell you!" She sank down on the bench.
+
+Confused, mazed, bewildered, Jeff obeyed her.
+
+She sprang to her feet. She was laughing, blushing, glowing. In her hand
+was the little gold chain.
+
+"Now, you may look. Hold out your hand, sir!"
+
+Jeff's mind was whirling; he held out his hand. She laid a little gold
+locket in his palm. It was warm, that little locket.
+
+"I have never seen this locket before in my life!" gasped Jeff.
+
+"Open it!"
+
+He opened it. The little eohippus glared up at him.
+
+"Ellinor!--_Charley Gibson!_"
+
+"Tobe! Jeff!--_Jamie!_"
+
+The little eohippus stared unwinking from the grass.
+
+                         THE BEGINNING
+
+
+
+
+ _"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_
+
+
+
+
+EMERSON HOUGH'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+=THE COVERED WAGON=
+
+An epic story of the Great West from which the famous picture was made.
+
+
+=THE WAY OF A MAN=
+
+A colorful romance of the pioneer West before the Civil War.
+
+
+=THE SAGEBRUSHER=
+
+An Eastern girl answers a matrimonial ad. and goes out West in the hills
+of Montana to find her mate.
+
+
+=THE WAY OUT=
+
+A romance of the feud district of the Cumberland country.
+
+
+=THE BROKEN GATE=
+
+A story of broken social conventions and of a woman's determination to
+put the past behind her.
+
+
+=THE WAY TO THE WEST=
+
+Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and Kit Carson figure in this story of the
+opening of the West.
+
+
+=HEART'S DESIRE=
+
+The story of what happens when the railroad came to a little settlement
+in the far West.
+
+
+=THE PURCHASE PRICE=
+
+A story of Kentucky during the days after the American Revolution.
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE W. OGDEN'S WESTERN NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+=THE BARON OF DIAMOND TAIL=
+
+The Elk Mountain Cattle Co. had not paid a dividend in years; so Edgar
+Barrett, fresh from the navy, was sent West to see what was wrong at the
+ranch. The tale of this tenderfoot outwitting the buckaroos at their own
+play will sweep you into the action of this salient western novel.
+
+
+=THE BONDBOY=
+
+Joe Newbolt, bound out by force of family conditions to work for a
+number of years, is accused of murder and circumstances are against him.
+His mouth is sealed; he cannot, as a gentleman, utter the words that
+would clear him. A dramatic, romantic tale of intense interest.
+
+
+=CLAIM NUMBER ONE=
+
+Dr. Warren Slavens drew claim number one, which entitled him to first
+choice of rich lands on an Indian reservation in Wyoming. It meant a
+fortune; but before he established his ownership he had a hard battle
+with crooks and politicians.
+
+
+=THE DUKE OF CHIMNEY BUTTE=
+
+When Jerry Lambert, "the Duke," attempts to safeguard the cattle ranch
+of Vesta Philbrook from thieving neighbors, his work is appallingly
+handicapped because of Grace Kerr, one of the chief agitators, and a
+deadly enemy of Vesta's. A stirring tale of brave deeds, gun-play and a
+love that shines above all.
+
+
+=THE FLOCKMASTER OF POISON CREEK=
+
+John Mackenzie trod the trail from Jasper to the great sheep country
+where fortunes were being made by the flock-masters. Shepherding was not
+a peaceful pursuit in those bygone days. Adventure met him at every
+turn--there is a girl of course--men fight their best fights for a
+woman--it is an epic of the sheeplands.
+
+
+=THE LAND OF LAST CHANCE=
+
+Jim Timberlake and Capt. David Scott waited with restless thousands on
+the Oklahoma line for the signal to dash across the border. How the city
+of Victory arose overnight on the plains, how people savagely defended
+their claims against the "sooners;" how good men and bad played
+politics, makes a strong story of growth and American initiative.
+
+
+=TRAIL'S END=
+
+Ascalon was the end of the trail for thirsty cowboys who gave vent to
+their pent-up feelings without restraint. Calvin Morgan was not
+concerned with its wickedness until Seth Craddock's malevolence directed
+itself against him. He did not emerge from the maelstrom until he had
+obliterated every vestige of lawlessness, and assured himself of the
+safety of a certain dark-eyed girl.
+
+
+_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+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."
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+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 seafaring
+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.
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ EDGAR RICE BURROUGH'S
+ NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+=TARZAN AND THE GOLDEN LION=
+
+A tale of the African wilderness which appeals to all readers of
+fiction.
+
+
+=TARZAN THE TERRIBLE=
+
+Further thrilling adventures of Tarzan while seeking his wife in Africa.
+
+
+=TARZAN THE UNTAMED=
+
+Tells of Tarzan's return to the life of the ape-man in seeking vengeance
+for the loss of his wife and home.
+
+
+=JUNGLE TALES OF TARZAN=
+
+Records the many wonderful exploits by which Tarzan proves his right to
+ape kingship.
+
+
+=AT THE EARTH'S CORE=
+
+An astonishing series of adventures in a world located inside of the
+Earth.
+
+
+=THE MUCKER=
+
+The story of Billy Byrne--as extraordinary a character as the famous
+Tarzan.
+
+
+=A PRINCESS OF MARS=
+
+Forty-three million miles from the earth--a succession of the weirdest
+and most astounding adventures in fiction.
+
+
+=THE GODS OF MARS=
+
+John Carter's adventures on Mars, where he fights the ferocious "plant
+men," and defies Issus, the Goddess of Death.
+
+
+=THE WARLORD OF MARS=
+
+Old acquaintances, made in two other stories, reappear, Tars Tarkas,
+Tardos Mors and others.
+
+
+=THUVIA, MAID OF MARS=
+
+The story centers around the adventures of Carthoris, the son of John
+Carter and Thuvia, daughter of a Martian Emperor.
+
+
+=THE CHESSMEN OF MARS=
+
+The adventures of Princess Tara in the land of headless men, creatures
+with the power of detaching their heads from their bodies and replacing
+them at will.
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ZANE GREY'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+ =TO THE LAST MAN=
+ =THE MYSTERIOUS RIDER=
+ =THE MAN OF THE FOREST=
+ =THE DESERT OF WHEAT=
+ =THE U. P. TRAIL=
+ =WILDFIRE=
+ =THE BORDER LEGION=
+ =THE RAINBOW TRAIL=
+ =THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT=
+ =RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE=
+ =THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS=
+ =THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN=
+ =THE LONE STAR RANGER=
+ =DESERT GOLD=
+ =BETTY ZANE=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+=LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS=
+
+The life story of "Buffalo Bill" by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore, with
+Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey.
+
+
+ZANE GREY'S BOOKS FOR BOYS
+
+ =KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE=
+ =THE YOUNG LION HUNTER=
+ =THE YOUNG FORESTER=
+ =THE YOUNG PITCHER=
+ =THE SHORT STOP=
+ =THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER
+   BASEBALL STORIES=
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+ =THE COUNTRY BEYOND=
+ =THE FLAMING FOREST=
+ =THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN=
+ =THE RIVER'S END=
+ =THE GOLDEN SNARE=
+ =NOMADS OF THE NORTH=
+ =KAZAN=
+ =BAREE, SON OF KAZAN=
+ =THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM=
+ =THE DANGER TRAIL=
+ =THE HUNTED WOMAN=
+ =THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH=
+ =THE GRIZZLY KING=
+ =ISOBEL=
+ =THE WOLF HUNTERS=
+ =THE GOLD HUNTERS=
+ =THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE=
+ =BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY=
+
+_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE
+ WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+
+ =BIG-TOWN ROUND-UP, THE=
+ =BRAND BLOTTERS=
+ =BUCKY O'CONNOR=
+ =CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT=
+ =DAUGHTER OF THE DONS, A=
+ =GUNSIGHT PASS=
+ =HIGHGRADER, THE=
+ =MAN FOUR-SQUARE, A=
+ =MAN-SIZE=
+ =MAVERICKS=
+ =OH, YOU TEX!=
+ =PIRATE OF PANAMA, THE=
+ =RIDGWAY OF MONTANA=
+ =SHERIFF'S SON, THE=
+ =STEVE YEAGER=
+ =TANGLED TRAILS=
+ =TEXAS RANGER, A=
+ =VISION SPLENDID, THE=
+ =WYOMING=
+ =YUKON TRAIL, THE=
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+JACK LONDON'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+
+ =ADVENTURE=
+ =BURNING DAYLIGHT=
+ =CALL OF THE WILD, THE=
+ =DAUGHTER OF THE SNOWS, A=
+ =JERRY OF THE ISLANDS=
+ =JOHN BARLEYCORN=
+ =LITTLE LADY OF THE BIG HOUSE=
+ =MARTIN EDEN=
+ =MICHAEL, BROTHER OF JERRY=
+ =MUTINY OF THE ELSINORE, THE=
+ =NIGHT BORN, THE=
+ =SEA WOLF, THE=
+ =SMOKE BELLEW=
+ =SON OF THE WOLF, THE=
+ =STAR ROVER, THE=
+ =VALLEY OF THE MOON, THE=
+ =WHITE FANG=
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+B. M. BOWER'S NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
+
+
+ =CASEY RYAN=
+ =CHIP OF THE FLYING U=
+ =COW-COUNTRY=
+ =FLYING U RANCH=
+ =FLYING U'S LAST STAND, THE=
+ =GOOD INDIAN=
+ =GRINGOS, THE=
+ =HAPPY FAMILY, THE=
+ =HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT=
+ =HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX, THE=
+ =LONG SHADOW, THE=
+ =LONESOME TRAIL, THE=
+ =LOOKOUT MAN, THE=
+ =LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS, THE=
+ =PHANTOM HERD, THE=
+ =QUIRT, THE=
+ =RANGE DWELLERS, THE=
+ =RIM O' THE WORLD=
+ =SKYRIDER=
+ =STARR OF THE DESERT=
+ =THUNDER BIRD, THE=
+ =TRAIL OF THE WHITE MULE, THE=
+ =UPHILL CLIMB, THE=
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ BOOTH TARKINGTON'S
+ NOVELS
+
+May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
+
+
+=SEVENTEEN.= Illustrated by Arthur William Brown.
+
+No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young
+people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the
+time when the reader was Seventeen.
+
+
+=PENROD.= Illustrated by Gordon Grant.
+
+This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous,
+tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a
+finished, exquisite work.
+
+
+=PENROD AND SAM.= Illustrated by Worth Brehm.
+
+Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases
+of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness
+that have ever been written.
+
+
+=THE TURMOIL.= Illustrated by C. E. Chambers.
+
+Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his
+father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a
+fine girl turns Bibbs' life from failure to success.
+
+
+=THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA.= Frontispiece.
+
+A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country
+editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love
+interest.
+
+
+=THE FLIRT.= Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood.
+
+The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement,
+drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another
+to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising
+suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister.
+
+
+_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
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