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diff --git a/41447-8.txt b/41447-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8156379..0000000 --- a/41447-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9341 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Curly, by Roger Pocock - -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/license - - -Title: Curly - A Tale of the Arizona Desert - -Author: Roger Pocock - -Release Date: November 23, 2012 [EBook #41447] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CURLY *** - - - - -Produced by D Alexander, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - CURLY - - A TALE OF THE ARIZONA DESERT - - By ROGER POCOCK - - Author of "A Frontiersman," etc. - - - Boston - Little, Brown, and Company - - _Copyright_, 1904, - BY ROGER POCOCK. - - _Copyright, 1905,_ - BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. - - _All rights reserved._ - - Published May, 1905. - - Printers - S. J. PARKHILL & CO., BOSTON, U.S.A. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. APACHES 1 - - II. LORD BALSHANNON 9 - - III. HOLY CROSS 16 - - IV. THE RANGE WOLVES 27 - - V. BACK TO THE WOLF PACK 37 - - VI. MY RANGE WHELPS WHIMPERING 44 - - VII. AT THE SIGN OF RYAN'S HAND 52 - - VIII. IN THE NAME OF THE PEOPLE 65 - - IX. WAR SIGNS 69 - - X. STORM GATHERING 78 - - XI. THE GUN-FIGHT 89 - - XII. THE CITY BOILING OVER 106 - - XIII. THE MAN-HUNT 118 - - XIV. THE FRONTIER GUARDS 126 - - XV. MOSTLY CHALKEYE 138 - - XVI. ARRANGING FOR MORE TROUBLE 145 - - XVII. THE REAL CURLY 156 - - XVIII. THE WHITE STAR 167 - - XIX. A MARRIAGE SETTLEMENT 184 - - XX. THE MARSHAL'S POSSE 200 - - XXI. A FLYING HOSPITAL 212 - - XXII. ROBBERY-UNDER-ARMS 222 - - XXIII. A HOUSE OF REFUGE 234 - - XXIV. THE SAVING OF CURLY 254 - - XXV. A MILLION DOLLARS RANSOM 272 - - XXVI. THE STRONGHOLD 290 - - XXVII. A SECOND-HAND ANGEL 314 - - - - -CURLY - - - - -CHAPTER I - -APACHES - - -Back in Old Texas, 'twixt supper and sleep time, the boys in camp would -sit around the fire and tell lies. They talked about the Ocean which was -bigger than all the plains, and I began to feel worried because I'd -never seen what the world was like beyond the far edge of the grass. -Life was a failure until I could get to that Ocean to smell and see for -myself. After that I would be able to tell lies about it when I got back -home again to the cow-camps. When I was old enough to grow a little -small fur on my upper lip I loaded my pack pony, saddled my horse, and -hit the trail, butting along day after day towards the sunset, expecting -every time I climbed a ridge of hills to see the end of the yellow grass -and the whole Pacific Ocean shining beyond, with big ships riding herd -like cowboys around the grazing whales. - -One morning, somewheres near the edge of Arizona, I noticed my horse -throw his ears to a small sound away in the silence to the left. It -seemed to be the voice of a rifle, and maybe some hunter was missing a -deer in the distance, so I pointed that way to inquire. After a mile or -so I heard the rifle speaking again, and three guns answered, sputtering -quick and excited. That sounded mighty like a disagreement, so I -concluded I ought to be cautious and roll my tail at once for foreign -parts. I went on slow, approaching a small hill. Again a rifle-shot rang -out from just beyond the hill, and two shots answered--muzzle-loading -guns. At the same time the wind blew fresh from the hill, with a whiff -of powder, and something else which made my horses shy. "Heap bad -smell!" they snuffed. "Just look at that!" they signalled with their -ears. "Ugh!" they snorted. - -"Get up!" said I; and charged the slope of the hill. - -Near the top I told them to be good or I'd treat them worse than a -tiger. Then I went on afoot with my rifle, crept up to the brow of the -hill, and looked over through a clump of cactus. - -At the foot of the hill, two hundred feet below me, there was standing -water--a muddy pool perhaps half an acre wide--and just beyond that on -the plain a burned-out camp fire beside a couple of canvas-covered -waggons. It looked as if the white men there had just been pulling out -of camp, with their teams all harnessed for the trail, for the horses -lay, some dead, some wounded, mixed up in a struggling heap. As I -watched, a rifle-shot rang out from the waggons, aimed at the hillside, -but when I looked right down I could see nothing but loose rocks -scattered below the slope. After I watched a moment a brown rock moved; -I caught the shine of an Indian's hide, the gleam of a gun-barrel. Close -by was another Indian painted for war, and beyond him a third lying -dead. So I counted from rock to rock until I made out sixteen of the -worst kind of Indians--Apaches--all edging away from cover to cover to -the left, while out of the waggons two rifles talked whenever they saw -something to hit. One rifle was slow and cool, the other scared and -panicky, but neither was getting much meat. - -For a time I reckoned, sizing up the whole proposition. While the -Apaches down below attacked the waggons, their sentry up here on the -hill had forgotten to keep a look-out, being too much interested. He'd -never turned until he heard my horses clattering up the rocks, but then -he had yelled a warning to his crowd and bolted. One Indian had tried to -climb the hill against me and been killed from the waggons, so now the -rest were scared of being shot from above before they could reach their -ponies. They were sneaking off to the left in search of them. Off a -hundred yards to the left was the sentry, a boy with a bow and arrows, -running for all he was worth across the plain. A hundred yards beyond -him, down a hollow, was a mounted Indian coming up with a bunch of -ponies. If the main body of the Apaches got to their ponies, they could -surround the hill, charge, and gather in my scalp. I did not want them -to take so much trouble with me. - -Of course, my first move was to up and bolt along the ridge to the left -until I gained the shoulder of the hill. There I took cover, and said, -"Abide with me, and keep me cool, if You please!" while I sighted, took -a steady bead, and let fly at the mounted Indian. At my third shot he -came down flop on his pony's neck, and that was my first meat. The bunch -of ponies smelt his blood and stampeded promiscuous. - -The Apaches, being left afoot, couldn't attack me none. If they tried to -stampede they would be shot from the waggons, while I hovered above -their line of retreat considerably; and if they stayed I could add up -their scalps like a sum in arithmetic. They were plumb surprised at me, -and some discouraged, for they knew they were going to have disagreeable -times. Their chief rose up to howl, and a shot from the waggons lifted -him clean off his feet. It was getting very awkward for those poor -barbarians, and one of them hoisted a rag on his gun by way of -surrender. - -Surrender? This Indian play was robbery and murder, and not the honest -game of war. The man who happens imprudent into his own bear-trap is not -going to get much solace by claiming to be a warrior and putting up -white flags. The game was bear-traps, and those Apaches had got to play -bear-traps now, whether they liked it or not. There were only two white -folks left in the waggons, and one on the hill, so what use had we for a -dozen prisoners who would lie low till we gave them a chance, then -murder us prompt. The man who reared up with the peace flag got a shot -from the waggons which gave him peace eternal. - -Then I closed down with my rifle, taking the Indians by turns as they -tried to bolt, while the quiet gun in the waggon camp arrested fugitives -and the scary marksman splashed lead at the hill most generous. Out of -sixteen Apaches two and the boy got away intact, three damaged, and the -rest were gathered to their fathers. - -When it was all over I felt unusual solemn, running my paw slow over my -head to make sure I still had my scalp; then collected my two ponies and -rode around to the camp. There I ranged up with a yell, lifting my hand -to make the sign of peace, and a man came limping out from the waggons. -He carried his rifle, and led a yearling son by the paw. - -The man was tall, clean-built, and of good stock for certain, but his -clothes were in the _lo-and-behold_ style--a pane of glass on the off -eye, stand-up collar, spotty necktie, boiled shirt, riding-breeches with -puffed sleeves most amazing, and the legs of his boots stiff like a -brace of stove-pipes. His near leg was all bloody and tied up with a -tourniquet bandage. As to his boy Jim, that was just the quaintest thing -in the way of pups I ever saw loose on the stock range. He was knee-high -to a dawg, but trailed his gun like a man, and looked as wide awake as a -little fox. I wondered if I could tame him for a pet. - -"How d'ye do?" squeaked the pup, as I stepped down from the saddle. - -I allowed I was feeling good. - -"I'm sure," said the man, "that we're obliged to you and your friends on -the hill. In fact, very much obliged." - -Back in Texas I'd seen water go to sleep with the cold, but this man was -cool enough to freeze a boiler. - -"Will you--er--ask your friends," he drawled, "to come down? I'd like to -thank them." - -"I'll pass the glad word," said I. "My friends is in Texas." - -"My deah fellow, you don't--aw--mean to say you were alone?" - -"Injuns can shoot," said I, "but they cayn't hit." - -"Two of my men are dead and the third is dying. I defer to -your--er--experience, but I thought they could--er--hit." - -Then I began to reckon I'd been some hazardous in my actions. It made me -sweat to think. - -"Well," said I, to be civil, "I cal'late I'd best introduce myself to -you-all. My name's Davies." - -"I'm Lord Balshannon," said he, mighty polite. - -"And I'm the Honourable Jim du Chesnay," squeaked the kid. - -I took his paw and said I was proud to know a warrior with such heap big -names. The man laughed. - -"Wall, Mister Balshannon," says I, "your horses is remnants, and the -near fore wheel of that waggon is sprung to bust, and them Apaches has -chipped your laig, which it's broke out bleeding again, so I reckon----" - -"You have an eye for detail," he says, laughing; "but if you will excuse -me now, I'm rather busy." - -He looked into my eyes cool and smiling, asking for no help, ready to -rely on himself if I wanted to go. A lump came into my throat, for I -sure loved that man from the beginning. - -"Mr. Balshannon," says I, "put this kid on top of a waggon to watch for -Indians, while you dress that wound. I'm off." - -He turned his back on me and walked away. - -"I'll be back," said I, busy unloading my pack-horse. "I'll be back," I -called after him, "when I bring help!" - -At that he swung sudden and came up against me. "Er--thanks," he said, -and grabbed my paw. "I'm awfully obliged, don't you know." - -I swung to my saddle and loped off for help. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -LORD BALSHANNON - - -With all the signs and the signal smokes pointing for war, I reckoned I -could dispense with that Ocean and stay round to see the play. Moreover, -there was this British lord, lost in the desert, wounded some, helpless -as a baby, game as a grizzly bear, ringed round with dead horses and -dead Apaches, and his troubles appealed to me plentiful. I scouted -around until I hit a live trail, then streaked away to find people. I -was doubtful if I had done right in case that lord got massacred, me -being absent, so I rode hard, and at noon saw the smoke of a camp -against the Tres Hermanos Mountains. It proved to be a cow camp with all -the boys at dinner. - -They had heard nothing of Apaches out on the war trail, but when I told -what I knew, they came glad, on the dead run, their waggons and pony -herd following. We found the Britisher digging graves for three dead -men, and looking apt to require a fourth for his own use. - -"Er--good evening," says he, and I began to wonder why I'd sweated -myself so hot to rescue an iceberg. - -"Gentlemen," says he to the boys, "you find some er--coffee ready beside -the fire, and afterwards, if you please, we will bury my dead." - -The boys leaned over in their saddles, wondering at him, but the lord's -cool eye looked from face to face, and we had to do what he said. He was -surely a great chief, that Lord Balshannon. - -The men who had fallen a prey to the Apaches were two teamsters and a -Mexican, all known to these Bar Y riders, and they were sure sorry. But -more than that they enjoyed this shorthorn, this tenderfoot from the -east who could stand off an outfit of hostile Indians with his lone -rifle. They saw he was wounded, yet he dug graves for his dead, made -coffee for the living, and thought of everything except himself. After -coffee we lined up by the graves to watch the bluff he made at funeral -honours. Lord Balshannon was a colonel in the British Army, and he stood -like an officer on parade reading from a book. His black hair was -touched silver, his face was strong, hard, manful, and his voice -quivered while he read from the little book-- - - "For I am a stranger with Thee, - And a sojourner as all my fathers were; - O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength - Before I go hence, and am no more seen." - -I reckon that there were some of us sniffing as though we had just -caught a cold, while we listened to that man's voice, and saw the -loneliness of him. Afterwards Dick Bryant, the Bar Y foreman, walked -straight up to Balshannon. - -"Britisher," said he, "you may be a sojourner, and we hopes you are, a -whole lot, but there's no need to be a stranger. Shake." - -So they shook hands, and that was the beginning of a big friendship. -Then Balshannon turned to the crowd, and looked slowly from face to face -of us. - -"Gentlemen," he said kind of feeble, and we saw his face go grey while -he spoke, "I'm much obliged to you all for er--for coming. It seems, -indeed, ah--that my little son Jim and I have made friends and -er--neighbours. I'm sorry that you should find my camp in such aw--in -such a beastly mess, but there's some fairly decent whisky in this -nearest waggon, and er--" the man was reeling, and his eyes seemed -blind, "when we get to my new ranche at Holy Cross I--I hope -you'll--friends--aw--and----" - -And he dropped in a dead faint. - -So long as I stay alive I shall remember that night, the smell of the -dead horses, the silence, the smoke of our fire going up straight to a -white sky of stars, the Bar Y people in pairs lying wrapped in their -blankets around the waggons, the reliefs of riders going out on guard, -the cold towards dawn. The little boy Jim had curled up beside me -because he felt lonesome in the waggon. Balshannon lay by the fire, his -mind straying away off beyond our range. Often he muttered, but I could -not catch the words, and sometimes said something aloud which sounded -like nonsense. It must have been midnight, when all of a sudden he sat -bolt upright, calling out loud enough to waken half the camp-- - -"Ryan!" he shouted, "don't disturb him, Ryan! He's upstairs dying. If -you fire, the shock will--Ryan! Don't shoot! Ryan!" - -Then with a groan he fell back. I moistened his lips with cold tea. "All -right," he whispered, "thanks, Helen." - -For a long time he lay muttering while I held his hands. "You see, -Helen," he whispered, "neither you nor the child could be safe in -Ireland. Ryan killed my father." - -He seemed to fall asleep after that, and, counting by the stars, an hour -went by. Then he looked straight at me-- - -"You see, dear? I turned them out of their farms, and Ryan wants his -revenge, so----" - -Towards morning I put some sticks on the fire which crackled a lot. "Go -easy, Jim," I heard him say, "don't waste our cartridges. Poor little -chap!" - -Day broke at last, the cook was astir, and the men rode in from herd. I -dropped off to sleep. - -It was noon before the heat awakened me, and I sat up to find the fire -still burning, but Lord Balshannon gone. I saw his waggons trailing off -across the desert. Dick Bryant was at the fire lighting his pipe with a -coal. - -"Wall," said he, "you've been letting out enough sleep through yo' nose -to run an engine. Goin' to make this yo' home?" - -"The camp's moved?" - -"Sure. I've sent the Britisher's waggons down to Holy Cross. He bought -the place from a Mexican last month." - -"Is it far?" - -"About twenty mile. I've been down there this morning. I reckon the -people there had smelt Apaches and run. It was empty, and that's why I'm -making this talk to you. I cayn't spare my men after to-day, and I don't -calculate to leave a sick man and a lil' boy thar alone." - -"I'll stay with them," said I. - -"That's good talk. If you-all need help by day make a big smoke on the -roof, or if it's night just make a flare of fire. I'll keep my outfit -near enough to see." - -"You reckon there'll be Indians?" - -"None. That was a stray band, and what's left of it ain't feeling good -enough to want scalps. But when I got to Holy Cross this morning I seen -this paper, and some tracks of the man who left it nailed on the door. I -said nothing to my boys, and the Britisher has worries enough already to -keep him interested, but you ought to know what's coming, in case of -trouble. Here's the paper. - - "'GRAVE CITY, ARIZONA, - - "'_3rd February, 1886_. - - "'MY LORD, - - "'This is to tell you that in spite of everything you could do to - destroy me, I'm safe in this free country, and doing well. I've - heard of the horrible crime you committed in driving the poor - people from your estate in Ireland, from homes which we and our - fathers have loved for a thousand years. Now I call the holy saints - to witness that I will do to you as you have done to me, and to my - people. The time will come when, driven from this your new home, - without a roof to cover you, or a crust to eat, your wife and boy - turned out to die in the desert, you will plead for even so much as - a drink, and it will be thrown in your face. I shall not die until - I have seen the end of your accursed house. - - "'(Sd.) GEORGE RYAN.' - -"These Britishers," said Bryant, "is mostly of two breeds--the lords and -the flunkeys; and you kin judge them by the ways they act. This Mr. -Balshannon is a lord, and thish yer Ryan's a flunk. If a real man feels -that his enemy is some superfluous on this earth, he don't make -lamentations and post 'em up on a door. No, he tracks his enemy to a -meeting; he makes his declaration of war, and when the other gentleman -is good and ready, they lets loose with their guns in battle. This Ryan -here has the morals of a snake and the right hand of a coward." - -"Do I give this paper," said I, "to Mr. Balshannon?" - -"It's his business, lad, not ours. But until this lord is well enough to -fight, you stands on guard." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -HOLY CROSS - - - EDITOR'S NOTE.--The walls of Holy Cross rise stark from the top of - a hill on the naked desert; and in all the enormous length and - breadth of this old fortress there is no door or window to invite - attack. At each of the four corners stands a bastion tower to - command the flanks, and in the north wall low towers defend the - entrance, which is a tunnel through the buildings, barred by - massive doors, and commanded by loopholes for riflemen. The house - is built of sun-dried bricks, the ceilings of heavy beams - supporting a flat roof of earth. - - As one enters the first courtyard one sees that the buildings on - the right are divided up into a number of little houses for the - riders and their families; in front is the gate of the stable - court, on the left are the chapel and the dining-hall, and in the - middle of the square there is a well. Through the dining-hall on - the left one enters the little court with its pool covered with - water-lilies, shaded by palm trees, and surrounded by an arcade - which is covered by creeping plants, ablaze with flowers. The - private rooms open upon this cloister, big, cool, and dark, forming - a little palace within the fortress walls. Such is the old Hacienda - Santa Cruz which Lord Balshannon had bought from El Seņor Don Luis - Barrios. - -From the beginning I saw no sign and smelt no whiff of danger either of -Apaches or of Mr. Ryan. When Balshannon was able to ride I gave him -Ryan's letter, watched him read it quietly, but got nary word from him. -He looked up from the letter, smiling at my glum face. - -"Chalkeye," said he, "couldn't we snare a rabbit for Jim to play with?" -He and the kid and me used to play together like babies, and Jim was -surely serious with us men for being too young. - -In those days Balshannon took advice from Bryant, our nearest neighbour, -whose ranche was only one day's ride from Holy Cross. Dick helped him to -buy good cattle to stock our range, and two thoroughbred English bulls -to improve the breed. Then he bought ponies, and hired Mexican riders. -So I began to tell my boss and his little son about cows and ponies--the -range-riding, driving, and holding of stock; the roping, branding, and -cutting out; how to judge grass, to find water, to track, scout, and get -meat for the camp. The boss was too old and set in his ways to learn new -play, but Jim had his heart in the business from the first, growing up -to cow-punching as though he were born on the range. - -Besides that I had to learn them both the natural history of us cowboys, -the which is surprising to strangers, and some prickly. Being -thoroughbred stock, this British lord and his son didn't need to put on -side, or make themselves out to be better than common folks like me. - -After the first year, when things were settled down and the weather -cool, Lady Balshannon came to Holy Cross, and lived in the garden court -under the palm trees. She was a poor invalid lady, enjoying very bad -health, specially when we had visitors or any noise in the house. She -never could stand up straight against the heat of the desert. On the -range I was teacher to Jim; but in the house this lady made the kid and -me come to school for education. We used to race neck and neck over our -sums and grammar of an evening. I guess I was the most willing, but the -kid had much the best brains. He beat me anyways. - -Sometimes I got restless, sniffing up wind for trouble, riding around -crazy all night because I was too peaceful and dull to need any sleep. -But then the boss wanted me in his business, the lady needed me for -lessons and to do odd jobs, the kid needed me to play with and to teach -him the life of the stock range; so when I got "Pacific Ocean fever" -they all made such a howl that I had to stay. Stopping at Holy Cross -grew from a taste into a habit, and you only know the strength of a -habit when you try to kill it. That family had a string round my hind -leg which ain't broken yet. - -The boss made me foreman over his Mexican cowboys, and major-domo in -charge of Holy Cross. In the house I was treated like a son, with my -own quarters, servants, and horses, and my wages were paid to me in -ponies until there were three hundred head marked with my private brand. -Some people with bad hearts and forked tongues have claimed that I stole -these horses over in Mexico. I treat such with dignified silence and -make no comment except to remark that they are liars. Anyway, as the -years rolled on, and the business grew, Mr. Chalkeye Davies became a big -chief on the range in Arizona. - -When the kid was fourteen years old he quit working cows with me, and -went to college. Balshannon missed him some, for he took to straying -then, and would go off in the fall of the year for a bear-hunt, in the -winter to stay with friends, and the rest of the time would hang around -Grave City. I reckon the desert air made him thirsty, because he drank -more than was wise, and the need for excitement set him playing cards, -so that he lost a pile of money bucking against the faro game and monte. -He left me in charge of his business, to round up his calves for -branding, and his beef for sale, to keep the accounts, to pay myself and -my riders, and ride guard for his lady while she prayed for his soul, -alone at Holy Cross. When Jim wanted money at college he wrote to me. In -all that time we were not attacked by Indians, Ryans, or any other -vermin. - -Upon the level roof of Holy Cross there was space enough to handle -cavalry, and a wide outlook across the desert. There we had lie-down -chairs, rugs, and cushions; and after dinner, when the day's work was -done, we would sit watching the sunset, the red afterglow, the rich of -night come up in the east, the big stars wheeling slowly until it was -sleep-time. But when the boy was at college, and the boss away from -home, there was only Lady Balshannon and me to share the long evenings. - -"Billy," she said once, for she never would call me Chalkeye, "Billy, do -you know that I'm dying?" - -"Yes, mum, and me too, but I don't reckon to swim a river till I reach -the brink." - -"My feet are in the waters, Billy, now." - -"I wouldn't hurry, mum. It may be heaven beyond, or it may -be--disappointing." - -"You dear boy," she laughed; "I want to tell you a story." - -I lit a cigarette, and lay down at the rugs at her feet. "I can bear it, -mum." - -She lay back in her chair, brushing off the warm with her fan. - -"Did my husband ever tell you about a man named Ryan?" - -"Not to me--no." - -"Well, the Ryans were tenant farmers on the Balshannon Estate, at home -in Ireland. They were well-to-do yeomen, almost gentlefolk, and George -Ryan and my husband were at school together. They might have been -friends to-day, but for the terrible Land League troubles, which set the -tenants against their landlords. It was a sort of smouldering war -between the poor folk and our unhappy Irish gentry. It's not for me to -judge; both sides were more or less in the wrong; both suffered, the -landlords ruined, the tenants driven into exile. It's all too sad to -talk about. - -"My husband's regiment was in India then; my son was born there. Rex -used to get letters from poor Lord Balshannon, his father, who was all -alone at Balshannon, reduced to dreadful poverty, trying to do his duty -as a magistrate, while the wretched peasants had to be driven from their -homes. His barns were burnt, twice the house was set on fire, his cattle -and horses were mutilated in the fields, and he never went out without -expecting to be shot from behind a hedge. He needed help, and at last my -husband couldn't bear it any longer. He sent in his papers, left the -profession he loved, and went back to Ireland. He was so impatient to -see all his old friends that he wired Mr. George Ryan to meet the train -at Blandon, and drive with him up to Balshannon House for dinner. Nobody -else was told that Colonel du Chesnay was coming. Would you believe it, -Billy, those Land Leaguers tore up the track near Blandon Station, -pointing the broken rails out over the river! Mr. Ryan was their -leader, who knew that my husband was in the train. Nobody else knew. No, -mercifully the train wasn't wrecked. The driver pulled up just in time, -and my husband left the train then, and walked up through Balshannon -Park to the house. He found his father ill in bed; something wrong with -the heart, and sat nursing him until nearly midnight, when the old man -fell asleep. After that he crept down very quietly to the dining-room. -He found cheese and biscuits, and went off in search of some ale. When -he came back he found Mr. Ryan in the dining-room. - -"The man was drenched to the skin, and scratched from breaking through -hedges. He said that the police were after him with a warrant on the -charge of attempted train-wrecking. He swore that he was innocent, that -he had come to appeal to Lord Balshannon against what he described as a -police conspiracy. Rex told him that the old man was too ill to be -disturbed, that the least shock might be fatal. 'Surrender to me,' said -Rex, 'and if the police have been guilty of foul play, I'll see that you -get full justice.' - -"At that moment they heard footsteps outside on the gravel, and peeping -out through the window, Mr. Ryan found that the police had surrounded -the building. He charged Rex with setting a trap to catch him: he -pointed a pistol in my husband's face. 'Don't fire!' said Rex, 'my -father is upstairs very ill, and if you fire the shock may be fatal. -Don't fire!' - -"Mr. Ryan fired. - -"The bullet grazed my husband's head, and knocked him senseless. When he -recovered he found that Ryan had escaped--nobody knows how, and a -sergeant of the Royal Irish Constabulary told him that the police were -in hot pursuit. He heard shots fired in the distance, and that made him -frightened for his father. He rushed out of the room, and half-way up -the staircase found the old may lying dead. The shock had killed him." - -"Lady," I said, "if I were the boss, I'd shoot up that Ryan man into -small scraps." - -"Billy, you've got to save my husband from being a murderer." - -"Ryan," said I, "ain't eligible for the grave until he meets up with -Balshannon's gun." - -"Promise me to save my husband from this crime." - -"But I cayn't promise to shoot up this Ryan myself. He's Balshannon's -meat, not mine." - -"You must dissuade my husband." - -"I'll dissuade none between a man and his kill." - -"Oh, what shall I do!" she cried. - -"Is your son safe," I asked, "while Ryan lives?" - -"Why do you say that?" - -"Didn't your man drive all the people off the Balshannon range, and make -it a desert?" - -"Alas! may he be forgiven!" - -"Will Ryan forgive? Is your son safe?" - -I sat dead quiet while the lady cried. When a woman stampedes that way -you can't point her off her course, or she'd mill round into hysterics; -you can't head her back, for she'd dry up hostile; so it's best to let -her have her head and run. When she's tired running she'll quit -peaceful. - -I lit a cigarette and began to round up all the facts in sight, then to -cut the ones I wanted, and let the rest of the herd adrift. - -When our Balshannon outfit first camped down in Holy Cross, this Ryan -began to accumulate with his family in the nearest city--this being -Grave City--one hundred miles west. Grave City was new then; a yearling -of a city, but built on silver, and undercut with mines. Ryan took -Chance by the tail and held on, starting a livery stable, then a big -hotel, while he dealt in mines and helped poor prospectors to find -wealth. So Ryan bogged down in riches, the leading man at Grave City, -with daughters in society, and two sons at college. Only this Ryan was -shy of meeting up with Lord Balshannon, and I took notice year after -year that when my boss went to the city Mr. Ryan happened away on -business. Someone was warning Ryan. - -"Lady," said I, so sudden that she forgot to go on crying. "You've -warned Ryan again and again." - -"How do you know that, Billy?" - -"It's a hundred-mile ride to Grave City, but it's only sixty to -Lordsburgh on the railroad. Every time the boss goes to Grave City you -send off a rider swift to Lordsburgh. He telegraphs from there to Grave -City." - -"Messages to my husband." - -"And warnings to Ryan!" - -She was struck silent. - -"You're saving up Ryan until he gets the chance--to strike." - -"Oh, how can you say such things! Besides, Mr. Ryan's afraid, that's why -he runs away." - -"Ryan ain't playing no common bluff with guns. The game he plays ain't -killing. He wants you--all alive--like a cat wants mice; I don't know -how, I don't know when--but here are the words he nailed on to the door -of this house before Lord Balshannon came:-- - - "'The time will come when, driven from your home, without a roof to - cover you or a crust to eat, your wife and boy turned out to die in - the desert, you----'" - -"Stop! Stop!" she screamed. - -"Promise me, lady, that you'll send no more messages to Ryan." - -"It's murder!" - -"No, lady, this is a man's game, called war!" - -"I promise," she whispered, "I'll send no more warnings." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE RANGE WOLVES - - -That same winter Lord Balshannon came down from Lordsburgh on the -railroad, by way of Bryant's ranche, and tracked my round-up outfit to -our camp at Laguna. That was the spot where the patrone and I fought the -Apache raiders, but since then we had built corrals beside the pool, the -ring-fences which are used for handling livestock. I had twenty Mexican -_vaqueros_ with me, branding calves; and the patrone found us all at -supper. - -While we ate he told me the news--how Dick Bryant was elected Sheriff of -the county; how Mr. Ryan's eldest son had left college and gone into -business in New York; how three bad men had been lynched by the -Vigilance Committee at Grave City; and how Low-Lived Joe had shot up two -Mexicans for being too obstreperous at cards. The boss had always some -gossip for me at tea-time. - -After supper he passed me a cigar. "Chalkeye," said he, "give these boys -as much sleep as you can. At midnight you pull out of camp for Wolf Gap; -strike in there at the first streak of dawn, gather the whole of our -horses, then run them as hard as you can to Holy Cross, and throw them -into the house." - -"Indians?" I asked. - -"No, horse rustlers. Bryant gave me the office that some outlaws have -come down from Utah. They've heard of our half-bred ponies, and they're -in need of remounts." - -"We've only two days' forage at the house." - -"After to-morrow let the herd into the home pasture under a strong guard -by day. Throw them into the house every night, and post a relief of -sentries on the roof. We mustn't--haw, allow the poor robbers to fall -into temptation, so see that the men have--er plenty of ammunition." - -"These robbers may round up our cattle." - -"If they do they will have to drive slow, and Bryant will hold the -railway-line in force, with troops if necessary, er--Chalkeye!" - -"Yessir." - -"A friend of mine has turned this gang loose on my stock. There's been -crooked work." - -"Ryan work, sir?" - -"What makes you think that?" - -"The birds. I want leave to go shoot Ryan." - -"Indeed, ah! I've promised my wife not to--er shoot Mr. Ryan." He stood -up and grabbed my paw. "Chalkeye, we must try to behave like--er -Christians, for her sake. Now I must be off. You'll find me at Holy -Cross." - -At noon next day I brought our herd to Holy Cross, and watered all the -horses at the dam below the house. This dam crossed a small hollow -holding some two or three acres of water, directly under the western -wall of the Hacienda. Some old trees sheltered the water, and one of -these had been blown down by a gust of wind. As I drove the _remuda_ to -the gates, one of the mares got snarled up in the wrecked tree, broke -her leg, and had to be shot. Then I threw the herd into the -stable-court, and went to my quarters. - -I reckon that I had been thirty-four hours in the saddle, and used up -five horses, so I wanted much to get my eye down for a little sleep. -While the _peon_ pulled off my boots I gave orders mixed with yawns to -my segundo. - -"Take charge, Teniente, and report my obedience to El Seņor Don Rex. -Post a guard of four in the gate-house, close the gates, and place a -relief of sentries on the North-west Bastion. If the sentry sees anybody -coming, the guard is to call me at once. See that my riders get sleep -till sundown, then send a couple of them to haul that dead mare from the -water-hole." - -I had not slept an hour when a man from the guard-house came running to -wake me up. I jumped into my boots, grabbed my gun, and bolted to the -gates, where Balshannon joined me at the spy-hole. - -"Who's coming?" he asked. - -"A white man, patrone, and a boy, on the dead run." - -"Message from Bryant, eh? Let them in." - -I swung the gates wide open, and we stood watching the riders--a -middle-aged stockman and a young cowboy, burning the trail from the -north. As they came surging up the approach I reckon their horses smelt -a whiff of blood from that dead mare beside the water-hole. Horses go -crazy at the smell of blood, and though the man held straight on at a -plunging run for the gates, the boy lacked strength to control his mare. -When she swerved he spurred, then she began to sunfish, throwing one -shoulder to the ground, and then the other, while she bucked. At this -the youngster lost his nerve and tried to dismount, the same being the -shortest way to heaven, for when the mare felt his weight come on one -stirrup she made a side spring, leaving him in the air, then bolted, -dragging him by the foot while she kicked the meat from his bones. He -was surely booked right through to glory but for Balshannon. My boss was -a quick shooter and accurate, so that his first bullet caught the mare -full between the eyes, and dropped her dead in her tracks. I raised the -long yell for my men, as we rushed to get the boy from under her body. - -It seemed to me at the time that the elder man never reined, but made a -clear spring from his galloping horse to the ground, reaching the mare -with a single jump before she had time to drop. Grabbing her head, he -swung his full weight, and threw her falling body clear of the boy. When -we reached the spot he was kneeling beside him in the sand. - -"Stunned," he said, "that's all! Seh," he looked up at the patrone, and -I saw the tears were starting from his eyes. "Seh, you've saved my son's -life with that shot, I reckon"--his voice broke with a sob--"you've sure -made me yo' friend." - -"Nothing broken, I hope?" said Balshannon. - -"No, seh. The stirrup seems to have twisted this foot." - -I sent some men for a ground sheet in which the boy could be carried -without pain. Balshannon sent for brandy. - -Still kneeling beside his son, the stranger looked up into the patrone's -face. - -"You are Lord Balshannon?" he asked. - -"At your service, my good fellow--well?" - -"Do any of yo' greasers speak our language?" - -"I fancy not." - -"Then I have to tell you, seh, that I am Captain McCalmont, and my -outfit is the Robbers' Roost gang of outlaws." He was bending down over -his son. - -"I asked no question, my friend," said Lord Balshannon, "we never -question a guest." - -"You make me ashamed, seh. I came with a passel of lies, to prospect -around with a view to doing you dirt." - -Balshannon chuckled, and I saw by the glint in his eye that he was -surely enjoying this robber. "You'll dine with me?" said he. - -Captain McCalmont looked up sharply to see what game the patrone was -playing. - -"You will notice, Captain," said the boss, "that my house is like a -deadfall trap. Indeed--ah, yes, only one door, you see." - -For answer the robber unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the ground. -"Take my gun," he said. "Do you suppose I daren't trust you, seh?" - -A servant had brought the brandy, and McCalmont rubbed a little on his -son's face, then poured a few drops between his teeth. Presently the lad -stirred, moaning a little. - -"Let's take him to the house," said I. - -"No, Mistah Chalkeye Davies," answered the robber, "not until this -gentleman knows some more, a whole lot more. Here, Curly," he whispered, -"wake up, bo'." - -The lad opened his eyes, clear blue like the sky, and smiled at his -father. "Air you safe, dad?" he whispered. - -"Sure safe." - -Curly closed his eyes and lay peaceful. - -The hold-up was squatting back on his heels, looking out across the -desert. "Don Rex," said he, "I had a warning sent to Sheriff Bryant -that I was coming down to lift all yo' hawsses. My wolves tracked -Bryant's rider to Lordsburgh, where he wired to you. You came running, -and had all yo' hawsses rounded up convenient for me, in the stable-yard -of this house. I thank you, seh." - -"My good man, I'll bet you an even thousand dollars," said the patrone, -"that you don't lift a hoof of my haw--_remuda_." - -"It's a spawtin' offer, and tempts me," answered the outlaw. "Oblige me -by taking my gun from the ground here and firing three shots in the -air." - -The patrone took the gun, and at his third shot saw a man ride out from -behind the bastion on our right. McCalmont waved to him, and he came, -putting a silk mask over his face as he rode, then halted in front of -us, shy as a wolf, gun ready for war. - -"Young man," said McCalmont, "repeat to these gentlemen here the whole -of yo' awdehs fo' the day. Leave out the names of the men." - -"You're giving us dead away!" said the rider, threatening McCalmont with -his gun. "You mean that?" - -"I mean what I say." - -"Ah! Excuse me, McCalmont," said the patrone, "your--er--pistol, I -think." - -"Thanks, seh." McCalmont took the gun. "Repeat the awdehs!" he said. -"These gentlemen are our friends." - -"Well, you knows best," came the voice from behind the mask. "Three men -to cover your approach to Holy Cross, and if there's trouble, to shoot -Balshannon and Chalkeye. They're covered now. The wall of the stable -court by the South-west Bastion to be mined with dynamite, and touched -off at ten p. m. prompt; ten riders to get in through the breach in the -wall, and drive out the bunch of horses; one man with an axe to split -all the saddles in the harness-room, then join the herders." - -"Leave out," said McCalmont, "all detail for pointing, swinging, and -driving the herd. Go on." - -"At one minute to ten, before the wall is blown away, ten riders are to -make a bluff at attacking the main gate, and keep on amusing the -garrison until the men with the naphtha cans have fired the private -house. - -"Rendezvous for all hands at Laguna by midnight, where we catch -remounts, and sleep until daybreak, with a night herd of two, and one -camp guard. At dawn we begin to gather cattle, while the horse wrangler -and two men drive the _remuda_ east. Rendezvous at Wolf Gap." - -Lord Balshannon laughed aloud. "And how about poor old Bryant's posse of -men?" he asked. - -"Sheriff Bryant," said the Captain, "allows that he's to catch us in a -sure fine trap, five miles due west of Lordsburgh. And now," he called -to the mounted robber, "tell the boys that all awdehs are cancelled, -that I'm supping to-night at Holy Crawss, and that the boys will wait -for me at the place we fixed in case of accidents." - -The man rode off hostile and growling aloud, while Balshannon stood -watching to see which way he went. - -"McCalmont," said he, and I took note of just one small quiver in his -voice, "may I venture to ask one question?" - -"A hundred, seh." - -"You seem to know the arrangement of my house--its military weakness. -How did you learn that?" - -The outlaw stood up facing him, and took from the breast of his shirt a -folded paper. Balshannon and I spread it open, and found a careful plan -of Holy Cross. At the foot of the paper there was a memorandum signed -"George Ryan." - -"I may tell you," said the robber, "that if I succeeded in burning yo' -home, stealing yo' hawsses, and running yo' cattle, Mr. George Ryan -proposed to pay my wolves the sum of ten thousand dollars." - -"Carry out your plans," the patrone was pleased all to pieces. "I'd love -to fight your wolves. I've got some dynamite, too! Think of what you're -losing!" - -"Lose nothing!" said the robber. "I'll collect fifty thousand dollars -compensation from Ryan!" He stooped down and gathered his son in his -arms. - -"And now, will you have us for guests in yo' home? Say the word, and we -go." - -Balshannon lifted his hat and made a little bow, much polite. "My -house," he answered in Spanish, "is yours, seņor!" - - - - -CHAPTER V - -BACK TO THE WOLF PACK - - -Being given to raising fowls, I'm instructed on eggs a whole lot. Killed -young, an egg is a sure saint, being a pure white on the outside, and -inwardly a beautiful yellow; but since she ain't had no chance to go bad -she's not responsible. But when an egg has lingered in this wicked -world, exposed to heat, cold, and other temptations, she succumbs, being -weary of her youth and shamed of virtue. So she participates in vice to -the best of her knowledge and belief. Yes, an old egg is bad every time, -and the more bluff she makes with her white and holy shell, the more -she's rotten inside, a whited sepulchre. - -I reckon it's been the same with me, for at Holy Cross I was kept good -and fresh by the family. Shell, white, and yolk, I was a good egg then, -with no special inducements to vice. Now I know in my poor old self what -an uphill pull it is trying to reform a stale egg. - -In those days, when I thought I was being good on my own merits, I had -no mercy on bad eggs like poor McCalmont, however much he tried to -reform. Balshannon took me aside, and wanted to know if he could trust -this robber. - -"So far as you can throw a dawg," said I. - -That night the lady fed alone, and we dined in the great hall, the -patrone at the head of the table, McCalmont and Curly on one side, the -padre and me on the other. Curly's ankle being twisted, and wrapped up -most painful in wet bandages, the priest allowed that he couldn't ride -away with his father, but had better stay with us. - -Curly shied at that. "I won't stay none!" he growled. - -But McCalmont began to talk for Curly, explaining that robbery was a -poor vocation in life, full of uncertainties. He wanted his son to be a -cowboy. - -"If he rides for me," says I, "he'll have to herd with my Mexicans. -They're greasers, but Curly's white, and they won't mix." - -"I'd rather," says McCalmont, "for Arizona cowboys are half-wolf -anyways, but this outfit is all dead gentle, and good for my cub." - -Then the boss offered wages to Curly, and the priest took sides with -him. So Curly kicked, and I growled, but the boy was left at Holy Cross -to be converted, and taught punching cows. - -As to McCalmont, he rode off that night, gathered his wolves, and jumped -down on Mr. George Ryan at the Jim Crow Mine, near Grave City. He wanted -"compensation" for not getting any plunder out of Holy Cross, so he -robbed Mr. Ryan of seventy thousand dollars. The newspapers in Grave -City sobbed over poor Mr. Ryan, and howled for vengeance on McCalmont's -wolves. - -Curly read the newspaper account, and was pleased all to pieces. Then he -howled all night because he was left behind. - -It took me some time to get used to that small youngster, who was a -whole lot older and wiser than he looked. He had a room next to my -quarters, where he camped on a bed in the far corner, and acted crazy if -ever I tried to come in. Because he insisted on keeping the shutters -closed, that room was dark as a wolf's mouth--a sort of den, where one -could see nothing but his eyes, glaring green or flame-coloured like -those of a panther. If he slept, he curled up like a little wild animal, -one ear cocked, one eye open, ready to start broad awake at the -slightest sound. Once I caught him sucking his swollen ankle, which he -said was a sure good medicine. I have seen all sorts of animals dress -their own wounds that way, but never any human except little Curly. As -to his food, he would eat the things he knew about, but if the taste of -a dish was new to him, he spat as if he were poisoned. At first he was -scared of Lady Balshannon, hated the patrone, and surely despised me; -but one day I saw him limping, attended by four of our dogs and a brace -of cats, across to the stable-yard. I sneaked upstairs to the roof and -watched his play. - -There must have been fifty ponies in the yard, and every person of them -seemed to know Curly, for those who were loose came crowding round him, -and those who were tied began whickering. Horses have one call, soft and -low, which they keep for the man they love, and one after another gave -the love-cry for Curly. He treated them all like dirt until he came to -Rebel, an outlaw stallion. Once Rebel tried to murder a Mexican; several -times he had pitched off the best of our broncho busters; always he -acted crazy with men and savage with mares. Yet he never even snorted at -Curly, but let that youngster lead him by the mane to a mounting-block; -then waited for him to climb up, and trotted him round the yard tame as -a sheep. - -"Curly!" said I from the roof. And the boy stiffened at once, hard and -fierce. "Curly, that horse is yours." - -"I know that!" said Curly; "cayn't you see fo' yo'self?" - -The dogs loved Curly first, then the horses, and next the Mexican -cowboys, but at last he seemed to take hold of all our outfit. He thawed -out slowly to me, then to the patrone and the old priest; afterwards -even to Lady Balshannon. So we found out that this cub from the Wolf -Pack was only fierce and wild with strangers, but inside so gentle that -he was more like a girl than a boy. He was rather wide at the hips, -bow-legged just a trace, and when his ankle healed we found he had a -most tremendous grip in the saddle, the balance of a hawk. Yes, that -small, slight, delicate lad was the most perfect rider I've seen in a -world of great horsemen. The meanest horse was tame as a dog with Curly, -while in tracking, scouting, and natural sense with cattle I never knew -his equal. Yet, as I said before, he was small, weak, badly built--more -like a girl than a boy. With strangers he was a vicious young savage; -with friends, like a little child. He did a year's work on the range -with me, and that twelve months I look back to as a sort of golden age -at Holy Cross. - -We were raising the best horses and the finest cattle in Arizona; prices -were high, and the patrone was too busy to have time for cards or drink -over at Grave City; and even the lady braced up enough to go for evening -rides. - -And then the Honourable James du Chesnay rode home to us from college. - -The patrone and his lady were making a feast for their son; the cowboys -were busy as a swarm of bees decorating the great hall; the padre -fluttered about like a black moth, getting in everybody's way; so Curly -and I rode out on the Lordsburgh trail to meet up with the Honourable -Jim. - -"I hate him!" Curly snarled. - -"Why for, boy?" - -"Dunno. I hate him!" - -I told Curly about my first meeting with that same little boy Jim, aged -six, and him turning his hot gun loose against hostile Indians, shooting -gay and promiscuous, scared of nothing. - -"I hate him," snarled Curly between his teeth. "Last night the lady was -reading to me yonder, on the roof-top." - -"Well?" - -"There was a big chief on the range, an old long-horn called Abraham, -and his lil' ole squaw Sarah. They'd a boy in their lodge like me, -another woman's kid, not a son, but good enough for them while they was -plumb lonely. That Ishmael colt was sure wild--came of bad stock, like -me. 'His hand,' says the book, 'will be up agin every man, and every -man's hand agin him.' I reckon that colt came of robber stock, same as -me, but I allow they liked him some until their own son came. Then their -own son came--a shorely heap big warrior called Isaac--and the old -folks, they didn't want no more outlaw colts running loose around on -their pasture. They shorely turned that Ishmael out to die in the -desert. Look up thar, Chalkeye, in the north, and you'll see this Isaac -a-coming on the dead run for home." - -"Curly," says I, "this young chief won't have no use for old Chalkeye; -he'll want to be boss on his own home range, and it's time he started in -responsible to run Holy Cross. At the month's end I quit from this -outfit, and I'm taking up a ranche five miles on the far side of Grave -City. Thanks to the patrone, I've saved ponies and cattle enough to -stock my little ranche yonder. Will you come at forty dollars a month, -and punch cows for Chalkeye?" - -"No, I won't, never. I come from the Wolf Pack, and I'm going back to -the Wolf Pack to be a wolf. That's where I belong--thar in the desert!" - -He swept out his hand to the north, and there, over a rise of the -ground, I saw young Jim du Chesnay coming, on the dead run for home. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -MY RANGE WHELPS WHIMPERING - - -Now that I have won through the dull beginning of this story, I've just -got to stop and pat myself before going on any further. There were steep -bits on the trail where I panted for words, rocks where I stumbled, -holes where I bogged down to the hocks, cross-roads where I curved -around lost. At the best I'd a poor eye, a lame tongue, and a heap big -inclination to lie down and quit; so I've done sure fine to keep -a-going. Ride me patient still, for I'm near the beginning of the -troubles which picked up Jim, Curly, and me, to whirl us along like a -hurricane afire. Soon we'll break gait from a limp to a trot, from trot -to canter, then from lope to gallop. - -I suppose I had better explain some about Grave City, and how it got to -have such a cheerful name. That was away back in 1878, when two -prospectors, Ed Schieffelin and his brother, pulled out to explore the -desert down by the Mexican boundary. The boys allowed they'd better take -their coffins along with them, because if they missed being scalped by -Apaches, or wiped out by border ruffians, or starved to death, they -would surely perish of thirst. "The only thing you boys will find is -your grave." - -Well, they called their discovery Grave City, but it was one of the -richest silver-mines on earth, and a city grew up here in the desert. -For the first few years it was most surely hot, full of artists painting -the town red, and shooting each other up with a quick gun. That was the -time of Mankiller Johnson, Curly Bill, Roosian George, Brazelton of -Tucson, the robber, and a young gentleman aged twenty-two, called Billy -the Kid, who wiped out twenty fellow-citizens and followed them rapid to -a still warmer climate. When these gentlemen had shot each other for -their country's good, and a great many more died a natural death by -being lynched, the city got more peaceful. In the second year it was -burnt, and entirely rebuilt in a fortnight. The first large gambling -joint was called the "Sepulchre," the first weekly paper was the Weekly -Obituary, and in the eighth year Mr. Ryan built his hotel--the -"Mortuary." That was in 1886, the year of the Apache raids, when I went -with the new patrone to Holy Cross. Twelve years I rode for Balshannon, -then, Jim being in his eighteenth year, took charge as foreman and -major-domo of that grand old ranche. - -It was the 4th of July, 1900, before I saw that youngster again. We -gathered at Grave City then to celebrate the birthday of our great -republic, and it does me good every time to see our flag Old Glory -waving above the cities of freedom. The Honourable Jim must needs run a -mare of his at the races, the same, as I told him, being suitable meat -to bait traps. - -I made him an offer for that mare; ten cents for her tail as a fly -switch, a dollar for her hide, and a five-cent rim-fire cigar if he -would dispose of the other remains. He raced her, lost one thousand -dollars, and came to me humble for the money to pay his debts. I told -him to burn his own paws in his own fire, and be content with his own -howls. - -"They're debts of honour!" says he. - -"Debts of dishonour, and you're the Dishonourable James du Idiot. -There's your travelling pony been standing saddled all day in the -blazing heat without a feed or a drink. You call yourself a horseman?" - -Afterwards we smoothed our fur, and had our supper together. Jim -promised to be good, go home, do his honest cowboy work, and look after -the poor lone lady who was dying by inches at Holy Cross. - -Yet I was proud of that boy, keen, fierce, stubborn as a wild ass, with -the air and temper of a thoroughbred, and a laugh which spoiled me for -preaching. He was smart, too, in a new shirt of white silk, a -handkerchief round his neck striped cream and rose colour, Mexican -trousers of yellow leather studded down the seams with lumps of -turquoise stones in silver settings, big silver spurs, and on his belt -a silver-mounted 45-Colt revolver. I've got no earthly use for a boy who -slouches. At supper, while I preached, he called me an old fool for -caring when he was bad. Then he told me good-bye in the dusk, and set -off on his hundred-mile trail for Holy Cross. - -I rode home thoughtful, and lay long awake in my little dobe cabin at -Las Salinas, thinking about that boy, whose mother was sick, and his -father riding to sure destruction, a gambler, a drunkard, hopeless, -lost--the best friend I ever had in the world. When I woke the faint -light of dawn shone through the cabin window, and brightened the saddles -on the wall. Something was touching my face, something cold, so I -grabbed it quick--a little small hand. Then I heard Curly's low, queer -laugh. "You, Chalkeye!" he whispered. - -He was sitting on the stool beside my bunk, dead weary, covered with -dust from the trail. Somehow the boy seemed to have got smaller instead -of growing up, and he sure looked weak and delicate for such a life as -he led. Twenty years old? He didn't seem fifteen, and yet he spoke -old-fashioned, heaps wise and experienced. - -"Whar you from?" says I, yawning. - -"Speak low, and no questions," said Curly in a hard voice, for on the -range we never ask a guest his name, or where he comes from, or which -way he goes. When he comes we don't need to tell him any welcome; when -he goes we say, 'Adios!' for he'll sure have need of an Almighty Father -out in the desert. - -"Chalkeye," says my wolf, "are you alone?" - -"Sure." - -"No boys over thar in yo' ram pasture?" - -"My riders is wolfing in Grave City, but they'll stray back 'fore noon." - -"Hide me up in yo' barn fo' the day, then." - -"An yo' horse, Curly?" - -"Say you won him last night at cyards. We'll hide the saddle." - -"Have coffee first?" - -"I surely will," and kneeling stiff, weary by the hearth, he began to -make up a fire. - -"There's a notice up for you, Curly. They're offering two thousand -dollars dead or alive." - -"For robbing that Union Pacific train?" - -"I reckon." - -"Chalkeye, did you ever know me to lie?" - -"None, Curly." - -"Then you'll believe me. I wasn't there when our wolves got that train. -I've never done no robberies, ever yet." - -"I hope you never may." - -"Sometimes I hope so too." He was holding up his hands before the fire. -"How's the patrone?" he asked, as he put on the coffee-pot to boil. - -"Going downhill rapid. He's mortgaged Holy Cross to the last dollar." - -"What's his play?" - -"Faro and monte--you'll see him bucking the game all night down at the -Sepulchre. He drinks hard now." - -"Pore old--er chap, don't you know! And the lady?" - -"Dying out down at the Hacienda. The padre sits with her." - -"And the young chief?" - -"Do you still hate him?" - -"Why should I care?" - -"Tell me on the dead-thieving Curly, you do care some what happens to -Holy Cross? Don't you remember old Ryan inviting yo' wolves to eat up -the Hacienda?" - -"They had stewed Ryan for breakfast afterwards, and he sure squealed!" - -"Yesterday I seen a bar keep' who belongs to Ryan go up against young -Jim and rob him of a thousand dollars over a sure-thing horse race. Any -day you'll see Ryan's hired robbers running the crooked faro and monte -games where Balshannon is losing what's left of Holy Cross. Ryan hired -the range wolves, and they went straight for his own throat, but now the -town wolves are eating yo' best friends." - -"The only friends I have excep' my gang," said Curly. "Why don't you -shoot up them town scouts, and that Ryan?" - -"My gun against a hundred, Curly? No. I tried to get these crooks run -out of the city, but Ryan's too strong for me. If I shoot him up I'd -only get lynched by his friends." - -"Show me yo' cyards, old Chalkeye--let me see yo' play." - -"I aim to turn the range wolves loose in Grave City." - -"The range wolves is some fastidious, Chalkeye, and wants clean meat for -their kill." - -"You don't want to save your friends?" - -"The boss wolf leads, not me, and he wants good meat. I must point to -good meat, or he ain't hungry none." - -"Ryan has lots of wealth." - -"We ate some once, and he's got monotonous." - -"How about his son, the millionaire?" - -"My wolves would shorely enjoy a millionaire, but--shucks! We'll never -get so much as a smell at him." - -"Cayn't you suggest some plan for checking Ryan?" - -"I'll think that over. I cal'late to spend some weeks in Grave City." - -"Two thousand dollars dead or alive! Why, lad, you're crazy." - -"When I'm disguised you'll never know it's me." - -"Disguised? As how?" - -"As a woman perhaps, or maybe as a man. I dunno yet." - -I went to sniff the morning, and at the door found Curly's horse, loaded -with an antelope lashed across the saddle. - -"I shot you some meat fo' yo' camp," said Curly, throwing coffee into -the boiling pot. "Now let's have breakfast." - -I went out and caught some eggs, then we had breakfast. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -AT THE SIGN OF RYAN'S HAND - - -At the time of Curly's visit I was breaking in a bunch of fool ponies, -and along in August sold them to the Lawson Cattle Company. Their Flying -W. Outfit was forming up just then for the fall round-up, so by way of -swift delivery I took my ponies down by rail to Lordsburgh. Their camp -was beside the stock-yard, and the little old cow town was surely alive -with their cowboys, stamping new boots around to get them used, shooting -off their guns to show how good they felt, filling up with chocolate -creams and pickles to while the time between meals, sampling the whisky, -the games, and the druggist's sure-thing medicines, or racing ponies for -trial along the street. - -Now I reckon that the sight and smell of a horse comes more natural to -me than anything else on earth, while the very dust from a horse race -gets into my blood, and I can't come near the course without my head -getting rattled. But from the first whiff of that town I caught the -scent of something going wrong, for most of the stock-yard was full of -cattle branded with a cross, and the Holy Cross _vaqueros_ were loading -them into a train. Moreover, by many a sign I gathered fact on fact, -that this delivery of Balshannon's cattle was out of the way of -business, not a shipment of beef to the market, but a sale of -breeding-stock, which meant nothing short of ruin. I strayed through -that town feeling sick, refusing to drink with the punchers, or talk cow -with the cattlemen, or take any interest in life. At the post office I -met up with Jim, face to face, and he tried to pass by short-sighted. - -"Boy," said I, as I grabbed him, "why for air you shamed?" - -"Leave me go," he snarled. - -"For why, son?" - -"'Cause I'm shamed." - -"Of yo'self?" - -"Shamed of my father. Our breeding-stock is gone to pay his gambling -debts." - -"All of it?" - -"What's left is offal. Now you leave me go!" - -"Whar to?" - -"To follow Balshannon's trail--drink, gambling, shame, death, and a good -riddance." - -"You'll come with me first," says I, "for an oyster stew and some bear -sign. I ain't ate since sun-up." - -He came with me for a stew and the doughnuts, which made him feel some -better in his heart, and after that I close-herded him until the cattle -were shipped, through the evening, through the night, and on to -daybreak. Then I rounded up his greaser cowboys from various gambling -joints, and pointed him and them for Holy Cross. - -"Boy," says I at parting, "you've been at work on the range for long -months now, and yo' mother is surely sick for the sight of yo' fool -face. Go home." - -"You old Chalkeye fraud," says he, with a grin as wide as the sunrise, -"you're getting rid of me because you want to have a howling time on -your lonesome, with all that money you got for your rotten ponies." - -It was surely fine sight to see my Jim hit the trail, the silver fixings -of his saddle and cowboy harness bright as stars, his teeth aflash, his -eyes a-shining, as he stooped down to give me cheek at parting, and lit -out with his tail up for home. His riders saluted me as their old chief -in passing, calling, "Buenas dias seņor, adios!" Yes, they were good -boys, with all their dark skin and their habit of missing the wash-time; -light-built riders, with big, soft eyes always watchful, grave manners, -gentle voices, gay laughter, and their beautiful Spanish talk like low -thunder rolling. They were brave as lions, they were true as steel, and -foolish only in the head, I reckon. So they passed by me one by one, -saluting with a lift of the cigarette, a glance of the eye, dressed -gorgeous in dull gold leather, bright gold straw sombreros, -rainbow-coloured serapes, spur and gun aflash, reins taut, and horses -dancing, and were gone in a cloud of dust and glitter away across the -desert. I was never to see them again. - -It made me feel quite a piece wistful to think of Holy Cross down yonder -beyond the rim of the far grass, for that house had been more than home -to me, and that range was my pasture where I had grazed for twelve good -years. I could just judge, too, how Jim was wanting for home swift, -while the segundo, good old Juan Terrazas, would pray the young lord to -spare the little horses. "'Tis sixty leagues, and these our horses are -but children, seņor." - -"Confound the horses!" says Jim, "let's burn the trail for home. Roll -your trail, Pedro! _Vamenos!_" - -"But the child horses, my lord, grass-fed only, in the hot desert." - - "Roll your tail and roll it high, - We'll all be angels by-and-by!" - -And Jim would lope along with a glad heart, singing the round-up songs-- - - "Little black bull came down the hillside, - Down the hillside, down the hillside, - Little black bull came down the hillside, - Long time ago." - -Then he would go on some more happy when he thought of the big tune to -"Roll, Powder, Roll!" - -As I heard afterwards, the outfit was rounding the shoulder of the hill -about five miles out when, on the ridge beyond, Mr. Jim's bright eye -took note of something alive. - -"A vulture only, my lord," says the segundo, "eating a dead horse." - -"A quart of kittens!" says my lord, some scornful. "Call that a -vulture?" and off he sailed, clattering down a slope of loose rocks. -"That bird is a man-bird flapping at us for help. Segundo, you've no -more range of sight than a boiled owl." - -The segundo came grumbling along behind, and they curved off across the -level. "That man has lost his horse," says Jim; "thirsty, I guess, and -signalling for help. Go back, Terrazas, and tell the men to wait." - -"Si, seņor," and Terrazas rolled back to the trail. - -As Jim got nearer he saw that the man on the hill had signalled nothing, -but his coat tails were a-flutter in the wind. Now he came all flapping -from rock to rock down the hillside. "Hello!" Jim shouted. - -The stranger squatted down on a rock to wait for him, and sat wiping his -face on a red handkerchief. He was dressed all in black, a sky-scout of -sorts, but dusty and making signs as though he couldn't shout for -thirst. Jim took his half-gallon canteen, ranged up, and dismounted. -"Curious," he was thinking; "lips not swollen, tongue not black, this -man ain't thirsty much!" - -"My deah young friend," says the preacher between drinks, "you're the -means under Heaven of my deliverance"--gulp--"from a shocking end." - -"Scared you'd have to go to heaven?" asked Jim. - -"I was afraid"--gulp--"that I must give up my labours in this vale -of"--gulp--"for which I was found unworthy." - -"Is that so?" - -"Seh, I have walked far, and am much exhausted." - -Jim looked at the preacher's pants, and saw that a streak of the cloth -from knee to ankle was dusty none--the same being the mark of the -stirrup leathers. He could not have walked a hundred yards from his -horse. - -"Stranger," says Jim, "your horse is just on the other side of this -hill." - -"Yes, indeed--but it never lets me get any nearer, and I've chased it -for miles!" - -"I'll catch your horse." Jim swung to his seat, spurred off, circled the -hilltop, and found the preacher's horse, rein to the ground, unable to -trot without being tripped at once, dead easy to catch at one jump. This -parson man was a liar, anyway. - -Then something caught Jim's eye, a sort of winking star on a hill-crest -far to the east. He watched that star winking steady to right and left. -The thing was a heliograph making talk, as it supposed, to the -preacher, and Jim watched harder than ever. - -He couldn't read the signs, so wondering most plentiful, he spurred up -to find out if anything more could be seen from the crest of the hill. -Yes, there lay the railroad, and the town of Lordsburgh, plain as a map. -This preacher had been sly, and heaps untruthful, so Jim rode back -leading his horse, but kept the sights he had seen for his own -consumption. - -"I suah thank y'u, seh," says the preacher. "Alas! that I should be so -po' a horseman. My sacred calling has given me no chances of learning to -ride like you-all." - -Jim watched him swing to the saddle as only a stockman can. You may -dress a puncher in his last coffin, but no disguise short of that will -spoil his riding. - -"Mebbe," says the preacher, "you can favour me with a few hints on the -art of settin' a--whoa! hawss! And if you please, we will go more -gradual 'cause the motion is pitching my po' kidneys up through my neck. -Whoa! Yow!" - -Jim broke away at a trot, sitting side-saddle to enjoy the preacher, who -jolted beside him like a sack of dogs. - -"Stranger," says he, "the trail is where my men are waiting yonder. To -the left it goes to Lordsburgh, to the right it runs straight to -Bryant's and on to Holy Cross. Good morning, sir," and he left on the -dead run. - -"My deah young friend," the preacher wailed at him. "Whoa! Whoa, now! -I've got mislaid! I place myself in yo' hands." - -Jim reined. - -"Well, where do you want to go?" - -"I want to find a wild, a sinful young man by the name of du Chesnay. -He's the Honourable James du Chesnay. Perhaps you know him?" - -"Partly. Well, what's your business with him?" - -"I suffer," says the preacher, "from clergyman's sore throat--ahic! -Permit me, seh, to ride with you while I explain my business." - -"As you please." They had gained the trail, and Jim swung into it with -the preacher, calling back to his riders to keep within range astern. - -"Besides," says the preacher, coughing behind his hand, "I am somewhat -timid--there are so many robbers that I yearn for yo' company for -protection." - -Jim yelled back to his men in Spanish, "Boys, just watch this -stranger--he's no good. Keep your guns handy, and if he tries to act -crooked, shoot prompt!" - -"Thank you, seh!" says the preacher. - -"And now, your business, quick!" - -"It appears," the preacher groaned, "that some wicked men have been -behaving deceitfully in the purchase of a flock of cows from this young -gentleman." - -"Eh?" - -"Yes, they paid for his flock with a draft made in favour of Lord -Balshannon, on the National Bank at Grave City. What a dreadful name for -a city!--suggestive of----" - -"Rats! Go on, man!" - -"This draft on the bank from Jabez Y. Stone, who bought yo' cattle, seh, -you forwarded from Lordsburgh yesterday. It will be presented to-day by -Lord Balshannon at the bank in Grave City." - -"How do you know?" - -"Unhappily, my sacred calling has left me quite unfamiliah with the -carnal affairs of this most wicked country." - -"Well, what's wrong? The bank wired yesterday morning that they held -money to meet this draft. Stone showed me the telegram." - -"Up to noon," said the preacher, "there was money in the bank; some -forty thousand dollars in the name of Jabez Y. Stone, ready to meet yo' -draft, and pay for the cattle." - -"I know that!" - -"At noon yesterday that money was withdrawn from the bank." - -"Impossible!" - -"Jabez Y. Stone had given a previous draft to another man for the money. -The other man got the plunder--the--ahic!--dross, I mean. Oh that we -poh mortals should so crave after the dross which perisheth!" - -"Don't preach!" - -"Oh, my young brother, the little word in season----" - -"I wish it would choke you. Now who drew that money?" - -"A carnal man--yo' fatheh's mortal enemy--Misteh Ryan." - -"Ryan! Ryan!" - -"Misteh George Ryan, yessir. To-day yo' father presents a worthless -paper at the bank in exchange for his breeding cattle. Oh, how grievous -a thing it is that deceitful men should so deceive themselves, preparing -for a sultry hereafter. Think of these poh dumb driven cattle, exchanged -for a bogus draft upon a miserable, miserable bank--how----" - -"Luis!" Jim yelled, and his segundo, old Luis Terrazas, came a-flying. -"Luis, take the men home--I've got to go back to Lordsburgh." - -"Stay!" The preacher lifted his hand, brushed back the hat from his -face, and stared into Jim's eyes. "Chalkeye Davies is yondeh at -Lordsburgh thar--you can trust him, eh? Send a letter to Chalkeye; ask -him to wire the sheriff at Albuquerque to hold that thar train of cattle -pending inquiries." - -"I'm going back myself. You stand aside!" - -"Seh, if you don't ride straight for Holy Cross, you ain't goin' to see -yo' mother alive--she's sinking rapid." - -"How do you know what's happening at Holy Cross, at Grave City, and at -Lordsburgh, and all these places a hundred miles apart?" - -"Have I said anything, boy, that you cayn't believe?" - -"You lied when you said you were thirsty, when you claimed to have -walked, when you made out you couldn't catch your horse, and couldn't -ride--you lied, and you're a liar!" - -The preacher reached for his hip, and a dozen revolvers covered him -instant. - -"Seh," he said, quite gentle, "my handkerchief is in my hip-pocket; -observe me blow my nose at yo' remarks." - -He trumpeted into his big red handkerchief. - -"Why do you make this bluff," says Jim, "at being a preacher, when -you've been all your life in the saddle?" - -"Yo' questions, seh, are personal for a stranger, and the character you -gave me to yo' greasers was some hasty, and the salute of guns you offer -makes me feel unworthy. As to your thanks for an honest warning to save -yo' lost cattle and haste to yo' dying mother----" - -Jim flushed with shame. - -"I beg your pardon, sir." - -"And you accept my warning?" - -"If you'll prove you forgive me by shaking hands, Mr.----" - -"Misteh? Just call me friend--no more. And Jim, when you've been to Holy -Crawss, yo' natural feelings will call you swift to Grave City, where -you'll find your father in mortal danger, I feah." - -"In mortal danger?" - -"Unless," said the stranger, "a mere friend can save him." - -Jim looked into this stranger's face, at the tanned hide, seamed and -furrowed with trouble, the strong hard lips, twisty with a sort of queer -smile, at the eyes, which seemed to be _haunted_. - -"Sir," he said, "I'll do what you tell me." - -So he took paper and pencil from his wallet, leaned over the horn of his -saddle, and made it desk enough for what he had to write. - -"Will this do?" says he, passing his letter to the stranger. - -"Yes, I reckon. Add, sonny, that Misteh Michael Ryan's private cyar is -due from the east to-morrow, with the Pacific Express. It's timed to -reach Grave City at 10:05 p.m. Chalkeye will be thar." - -Jim wrote all that down, then looked up, fearful, surprised at this -preacher knowing so much, then glanced all round to see which man had -the best horse for his message. - -"Onate!" he called. - -"Si seņor." - -"Take this letter, Onate, to Mr. Chalkeye Davies in Lordsburgh. Then -you'll follow me home." - -Onate uncovered, took the letter, and bowed his thanks. "Gracias seņor, -adios!" and curved off swift for Lordsburgh. - -Then Jim saw the preacher's eyes boring him through. - -"You will shake hands?" he asked. - -"With a glad hand," said Captain McCalmont. "Put her thar, boy! I hope -when we meet up again you'll remember me as a friend." - -So the great robber swung his horse, and spurred up back to his hilltop, -while Jim and the _vaqueros_ burned the trail for home. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -IN THE NAME OF THE PEOPLE - - -It used to be a great sight down at Holy Cross when the _vaqueros_ came -back from the round-up, serapes flapping in the wind, hats waving, guns -popping, ponies tearing around, and eating up the ground. And then the -house folk came swarming out to meet them, the little boys and dogs in a -shouting heap, the girls bunched together and squealing, the young wives -laughing, the old mothers, the tottering granddads, all plumb joyful to -welcome the riders home. So they would mix up, crowd through the gates, -and on the stable court to see a beef shot for the feast. Presently the -little boys would come out in the dusk of the evening, bareback to herd -the ponies through the pasture gate, and scamper back barefoot to the -house in time for supper. All night long the lamps were alight in the -great hall, the guitars a-strumming, and young feet dancing, and last, -at the break of dawn, the chapel bell would call for early mass. - -But this was the last home-coming for the folks at Holy Cross, and far -away across the desert Jim's riders heard the bell--the minute bell -tolling soft for the dead. The people met them at the gates, but all -the boys uncovered, riding slow. No beef would be killed that night, no -lights would shine, no guitars would strum for the dance. - -Inside the main gate Jim's servant took his horse, and the lad walked on -with clashing spurs to meet the old padre at the door of the -dining-hall. - -"Take off your spurs," said the priest, "come softly." - -So he followed the padre across the bare, whitewashed dining-hall, and -on along the cloister of the palm tree court. He heard the death-cry -keening out of the shadows, the bell tolled, and he went on through the -dark rooms, until he came to the seņora, with women kneeling about the -bed, and candles lighted at her head and feet. - - * * * * * - -The daybreak was bitter cold when Jim came out into the palm tree court, -shivering while he watched the little, far-up clouds flushed with the -dawn. - -He felt that something was all wrong in the house, with the hollow -echoes, every time he moved, crashing back from out of the dark. Then in -the black darkness of the rooms he saw a lighted candle moving, slow -through the air. - -"Who's there!" he shouted, and at that the light came straight at him -with something grey behind. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" -Then he saw it was Sheriff Bryant. - -"Easy, boy, easy!" says Dick in his slow Texan drawl; "I cal'late, Jim, -we may as well have coffee, eh, boy?" - -So he led Jim into the dining-hall, where he had cooked some coffee on -the brazier. He set his candle down on the long table, and beside it a -stick of sealing-wax and a bundle of tape. - -"Why, sheriff," says Jim, "what do you want with these?" - -"Take yo' coffee, son. It's cold this mawnin'." - -Jim fell to sipping his coffee, while old Dick sat crouched down over -the brazier. - -"My old woman's been here this fortnight past," he said, "and I -collected a doctor of sorts." - -"You never sent for father, or for me." - -"I had reasons, boy, good reasons. Jim, thar's trouble a-comin', and -you've got to face it manful." - -"Oh, speak out!" - -"As I says to my ole woman only yesterday, I'd have loaned the money -myself to yo' poh mother, only I don't have enough to lend to a dawg." - -"What do you mean?" - -"I couldn't turn the po' lady out of her home, so I got a stay of -execution from the Court, to give her time to escape. She's done escaped -now, and I got to act." - -"Sheriff!" - -"Yes, I'm sheriff, and I'd rather break a laig. But I'm the People's -servant, Jim, and my awdehs is to seize this hull estate, in the name o' -the People." - -"To seize this house!" - -"To turn you and all yo' servants out of Holy Crawss, and put the -People's seal on the front gate." - -"Sheriff, you can't!" - -"Boy, take this writ." - -Jim took the paper, spread it out, and read-- - -"Jim," said the sheriff, "we must bury this lady first. Then you want to -take the best hawss you've got, while I'm not looking, and ride to my -home. Yo're mo' than welcome thar." - -"Who's done this thing?" - -"Yo' father's debts." - -"Don't beat about the bush--who's done this thing?" - -"George Ryan." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -WAR SIGNS - - -On Tuesday morning, after I headed Jim for Holy Cross, I had to stay -over in Lordsburgh, finish my horse deal with the Lawson Cattle Company, -then get my men back to Grave City by the evening train. I had only -three cowboys, Monte, Custer, and Ute; nice children, too, when they -were all asleep, but fresh that morning, full of dumb yearnings for -trouble, and showing plentiful symptoms of being young. At -breakfast-time I pointed out some items in the local scenery, a doctor's -shambles, a hospital, a mortuary, and an adjacent graveyard. - -"Now, you kids," says I, "you may be heap big tigers; but don't you get -wild-catting around too numerous, because I ain't aiming to waste good -money on yo' funerals." - -They said they'd be fearful good, and might they have ten dollars apiece -for the church offertory? They set off with three pure hearts, and -thirty dollars. - -Now I reckon there were twenty-five Flying W. riders owning the town -that day, and they began politely by asking my boys if Chalkeye's -squint was contagious, and whether that accounted for symptoms of mange -in his ponies. - -My boys were dead gentle, and softly answered that Lawson was the worst -horse-thief in Arizona; that Lawson's foreman was three-parts negro and -the rest polecat, and that Lawson's riders had red streaks around their -poor throats because the hang-rope had failed to do them justice. - -The Flying W. inquired if my three riders was a case of triplets, or -only an unfortunate mistake. Then my boys produced their six-guns and -allowed they'd been whelped savage, raised dangerous, and turned loose -hostile--and I only arrived just in time to save them from being spoiled -for further use on earth. I challenged the Flying W. to race their best -pets against my "mangy" ponies, and both sides agreed to have a drink -with me, instead of wasting mounted funeral pageants on such a one-horse -town as little Lordsburgh. - -So while I was playing nursemaid, herding all those kids, who should -roll up the street but young Onate, of Holy Cross, on the dead run with -a letter from Jim. The more kids, the worse trouble. Well, when I had -swallowed Jim's letter, I fired off a batch of telegrams and soon had a -wire back from the Albuquerque sheriff. "Will impound them cattle," says -he, "pending advices from Bryant." So I sent Onate streaking after -Bryant, and went on playing at nursemaid until I was plumb scared that -I'd be sprouting a cap of ribbons. Anyway, I didn't have time to think -until the evening train pulled into Grave City. By that time my three -babies were dancing a fandango upon the roof of the car. When the train -stopped I hauled them down by the legs, petted them some with my boot, -and told them to go away home. They went, with a bet between them, which -would be first at my ranch. - -Just for the sake of peace and quietness I stayed that night in Grave -City, and sat around next morning smoking long cigars while I made my -poor brain think. There were points in Jim's letter, and facts I had -picked up casual at Lordsburgh, and words of gossip dropped in the -hotel; but to put them all together would have puzzled a large-sized -judge. Still, by all the tracks, the signs, the signals, and the little -smells, I reckoned that Mr. Ryan was mighty near reaching a crisis, and -apt to break out sudden as dynamite. First, here was Sheriff Bryant with -two deputies, his wife, and a medicine-man, camped down at Holy Cross. -Now Bryant would scarcely take deputy-sheriffs down there to nurse a -sick lady. Had Holy Cross been seized at last for Balshannon's debts? -That smelt of Ryan. - -Secondly, Jim had gone to heaps of trouble gathering all the -breeding-stock of Holy Cross, for a party named Jabez Y. Stone to steal -them convenient. Jabez Y. had once been a bar-tender in Ryan's -hotel--so that smelt of Ryan, too. - -Thirdly, here was poor Balshannon being held with a string round his leg -at the Sepulchre saloon, by the two crookedest gamblers in Arizona, the -same being Low-Lived Joe and Louisiana Pete. Once, Joe, being gaoled for -killing a Mexican, Ryan had put up money for a lawyer to get him -released. So if these two thugs were instructed to hold and skin the -Dook, that likewise smelt strong of Ryan. - -Fourthly, here was young Michael Ryan in his private car from New York, -burning the rails to reach Grave City by ten o'clock this night. The -smell of Ryan surely tainted the whole landscape. Now just throw back to -the words of Ryan's letter which fourteen long years before he had -nailed upon the door of Holy Cross:-- - - "The time will come when, driven from this your new home, without a - roof to cover you or a crust to eat, your wife and son turned out - to die in the desert, you will beg for even so much as a drink of - water, and it will be thrown in your face. I shall not die until I - have seen the end of your accursed house." - -So this was Ryan's plan--the work of fourteen years; industrious a whole -lot, and plenty treacherous, but coming surely true. He had waited until -he knew the lady was mostly dead, then turned her out of Holy Cross to -die in the desert. The cattle were stolen, Balshannon was tied down for -slaughter, and Michael would come to see the finish at ten o'clock -to-night. - -I began to reckon up Balshannon's friends, cowboys and robbers mostly, -scattered anyway across the big range of the desert. They would not hear -me if I howled for help. - -But Ryan was respectable. He was Chairman of the Committee of Public -Safety which lynched bad men when they became too prevalent with their -guns. Ryan was our leading citizen, heaps rich, and virtuous no end. The -Law would side with him, and as to the officers of the law, judges, and -City Marshal, and the police--they'd got elected because he spoke for -them. He owned the city, could bring out hundreds of men to take his -side. What could I do against this Ryan's friends? - -I knew that young Curly was hid in Grave City somewheres, and after a -search I found him. The boy was so disguised he hardly knew himself. - -"Chalkeye," says he, "you want a talk?" He looked sort of scared and -anxious. - -"I do." - -"If Ryan's folk see you making talk with me, they'll think there's some -new plot against the white men. Just you watch where I go, and follow -casual." - -He led me to a little room he rented over a barber's shop, and looking -from the window I noticed that Ryan's hotel was just across the street. -Curly left the room door open, because he didn't want any spy to use the -keyhole. - -"Now," says he, "make yo' voice tame, or we'll be overheard. Don't show -yo'self off at that window, but keep your eyes skinned thar, while I -watch the stairs. What is yo' trouble?" - -"Whar are yo' range wolves?" - -"They're a whole lot absent," says Curly. - -"Cayn't you trust me?" - -"I ain't trusting even myself." He looked fearful worried. - -"You know that Ryan has seized Holy Cross?" - -"This mawning, yes." - -"And that Ryan has stolen all their breeding-stock?" - -"Yesterday that was." - -"And that yo' father dressed himself up as a preacher, and warned Jim?" - -"They met up five mile south of Lordsburgh. Yessir." - -"And that Balshannon is tied up here?" - -"To be butchered this evening. Well?" - -"Curly, I want the range wolves to save Balshannon." - -"The range wolves has another engagement, seh." - -"You know all about this, Curly! Cayn't you trust me to help?" - -"We want no help, I reckon." - -I turned my tongue loose then, and surely burned young Curly. - -"Don't talk so loud, ole Chalkeye, but say some more!" he laughed. "I -could set around to listen to you all day. Turn yo' wolf loose, for it's -shorely yo' time to howl." - -That dried me up cold and sudden, for I had been acting youthful, and -Curly had got responsible, maybe elderly with me, the same being -ridiculous seeing how small the boy was. - -"Yo're through with yo' prayers, Chalkeye? Some comforted, eh? You ole -ring-tailed snorter, cayn't you understand? We ain't going to have you -mixed up with us range wolves, and branded for an outlaw. We want you to -keep good, and be a whole lot respectable right along. Then you can stay -around in this man's town, walk in the open with a proud tail, and show -the Ryan outfit that Balshannon has one friend who ain't no robber." - -Then I understood. - -"Now," says Curly, "hear my lil' voice, for I'm goin' to prophesy. You -know that Ryan reckons to have young Michael here for Balshannon's -funeral? Suppose this Michael don't transpire to-night? Suppose the -train comes in with news of a horrible shocking outrage? Suppose them -mean, or'nary robbers has stole a millionaire? Suppose--well, just you -wait for Ryan's yell when he hears what's done happened to his petted -offspring. He'll surely forget there's any Balshannon to kill. Just you -wait peaceful, and when the town turns out to rescue that poor stolen -maverick you want to ride in and collect Balshannon." - -Opposite in the hotel piazza I watched old Ryan and the City Marshal -having a mint julep together at one of the tables. - -"You hear that hawss?" says Curly, and far off I heard a horse come -thundering. Soon the rider swung into sight, pitching the dust high, -until he came abreast of my window, and saw the City Marshal in the -piazza. - -"Marshal," I heard him calling, "the wire to Bisley has been cut." - -"Is that so?" - -"The City Marshal at Bisley wants your help." - -"What's the trouble?" - -"You Ryan, your partner Jim Fiskin has been held up on the Mule Pass by -robbers. Marshal, the message is for you to bring a posse swift to the -nigh end of the pass, so as the Bisley people can drive the robbers -under your guns." - -"Good," says the Marshal, belting up his gun, "I'll be thar." - -"It would be an awful pity," says Curly behind my shoulder, "if our City -Marshal and his posse of men got called away on a false scent, while -the wicked robbers up north were stealing a millionaire." - -That youngster was wiser than me. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -STORM GATHERING - - -It's a whole lot interesting to see how different sorts of people put up -a fight. Cat, she spits, and proceeds with claws; dog, he says no -remarks, but opens up with teeth; horse, he's mighty swift to paw; bull, -he hooks; bear, he hugs affectionate while he eats your face; Frenchman, -he pokes with a sword; German, he slashes; Spaniard, he throws his -knife; nigger, he barbers around with a razor: and all of us have the -same feelings to express in some heartfelt sudden way. If you're looking -for trouble with Mr. Cowboy, you want to tame yourself and get pretty -near absent before he shoots. But at present my mind is set on -Britishers, which is a complicated tribe, and they sure fight most -various. - -When Mr. Britisher is merely feeling good and wants to loose out his joy -with a little wholesome scrap, he naturally hates to kill his man first -lick--that would spoil future sport. So if he's Irish he turns himself -loose with a club, or if he's Scotch or English he feels for the other -man with a hard paw. That relieves him, and does no harm. But sometimes -he feels real warlike. There's nobody special he wants to kill, his -small home tribe has nothing to spare for burial, and yet he must have -war. That's why his government keeps proper hunting preserves, well -stocked with assorted barbarians over seas. Some of these savages are -sure to be wanting a fight, so Mr. Britisher obliges, and comes along -hot with rifles and Maxim guns. Savages are plenty, so that if a few get -spoilt they'll never be missed. "It's good for them," says Mr. -Britisher, "and it saves the crockery from being smashed at home." - -So you see how Mr. Britisher may have his peaceful scrapping with -another boy, or go play with his savages when they want a licking; but -he's serious none--just laughs and shakes hands afterwards. But what -does he do when he feels real awful and dangerous? Civilised folk like -us Americans, feeling as bad as that, turn loose the guns, and wipe each -other out to a finish. Other people may prefer swords or battering-rams, -or a tilt with locomotive engines, or cannon loaded with buffalo horns, -or dynamite at ten paces; but all that would feel too tame for Mr. -Britisher. No, he puts on his war paint--black suit and top hat most -hideous--calls on his lawyer in a frantic passion, and goes to law! - -Now look, see how these two families, the du Chesnays and the Ryans, -went to law. They came of the best fighting-stock on earth; they were -whole-blooded Irish, but they went to law. The du Chesnays turned the -Ryans out of their home and country, which was bad. Then the Ryans did -worse: lay low and waited bitter years, gathered their strength, and -struck from behind--the cowards! Old Ryan got his enemy corrupted with -drink and gambling, stole all his cattle, left him helpless to fight, -then seized the home to try and turn a dying lady into the desert. He -kept within the law, but there was not an honest card in his whole game. -It was foul play, and I for one don't blame poor Jim for wanting no more -law in the fight with Ryan. - -And yet I reckon that after the first fifty miles of his trail that day -Jim's main thoughts were about the dinner he didn't have, and by sundown -he quit caring who was dead and who was ruined, as he racked on, with -aching bones and a played horse. It was nigh dark when he raised the -Toughnut Mine at Grave City against the red of dusk. Around him lay the -rolling yellow swell of the hot grass, clumps of scorched cactus, -blistered hills of rock; before him the mine-heads and the roofs with -sparkling streaks of blue electric lamps. He jockeyed his worn horse -past the Jim Crow Mine, and the house where my cousins lived, the Misses -Jameson, then on through scattered suburbs, till swinging round the -corner into the main street he rolled at a canter for the stable-yard. - -Abreast of the Sepulchre saloon he heard his name called, and reined up -sharp to speak with the small stable-boy from Ryan's "livery," who came -limping out to meet him through the dust. - -"Say, kid"--he leaned over in the saddle, well-nigh falling--"where -shall I find the Duke?" - -The little one-eyed cripple jerked his thumb back at the Sepulchre -saloon. "The Dook's in thar," he answered. - -Jim rolled from the saddle, dropped his rein to the ground, quit his -horse, brushed past the cripple, and went on without a word. He was so -stiff he could hardly walk, so dead weary that he reeled against the -swing-doors trying to get them open. The cripple helped him, and he -staggered in. The place was crowded, but the clash of his spurs along -the floor made several punchers turn round lazy, asking him to drink, -because he belonged to their tribe. Two of the cowboys grabbed him, but -he broke away, and went on. - -Beyond the bar on the right were the gambling-tables, each with its -crowd of players, and at the third Jim saw Louisiana on a high seat -watching for Low-Lived Joe, his partner, who dealt the game. Opposite -them he found his father, then pushed his way through the crowd to -Balshannon's side. The ivory chips were piled breast high in front of -him, for play had been high, and the Dook had had a run of luck. - -The boy watched his father's face flushed high with excitement, his -feverish eyes, his twitching lips, and restless fingers at play with the -round ivory counters which stood for five thousand dollars won since -supper-time. Opposite he looked up at Louisiana on the high seat, all -bald-faced shirt and diamonds, guarding his stacks of gold coin with a -revolver. Low-Lived Joe faced up a card on the deck, and passed some -chips to Balshannon. The rest of the players had quit to watch the big -game through. - -"Father, I want you," says he. - -"Well, Jim," says Balshannon, "what's the trouble?" He never looked up. - -But the boy was shaking all over. "Father, come, I want you." - -The Dook staked, then rolled a cigarette. "Don't bother me, Jim," says -he, "you'll spoil the run. We can't do anything, boy, for we've lost -those cattle." - -"Ryan has seized the ranche, the sheriff's there! Come out!" - -Balshannon quivered, but Joe shoved him a pile of blue chips. - -"So Santa Cruz is gone?" Balshannon drawled, and doubled his stake. -"Well, how's your mother?" - -"Dead!" - -Balshannon went grey, the cigarette dropped from his fingers. "Dead," -he muttered, "dead." Then he looked up with a sort of queer smile. -"Anything else?" he asked quite cheerfully. - -"Say, Dook," said Louisiana, "I'd hate to see you struck from not -watching yo' game." - -"Thanks, Pete." Balshannon staked out the whole of his winnings, then -picked up the cigarette, struck a match, and lighted it slowly. - -"Come home!" the boy was whispering. "Come home!" - -Jim saw the tears rolling down his father's face, and splashing on the -chips. "What's the use, my boy?" he said very softly. "Would that bring -your mother back?" - -"Come home! Come home!" - -"I'm winning back our home!" - -Then Low-Lived Joe drew a card, and as the boy went staggering away a -great yell went up. Balshannon was winning back his home. - -Jim says he felt sick when he quit his father, cold down the back, and -the floor was all aslant and spinning round. Then everything went black, -and he dropped. - -When he woke up he felt much better, lying flat on the floor with iced -water trickling over his face. That little one-eyed cripple was feeding -brandy to him. - -"Here's luck!" he gulped, "that's all right--where's my hat?" - -"Come out," says little Crook, "you need fresh air." - -Jim got up, and wriggled loose, because he hated being pawed, then led -the way out past the three fiddlers and the wheezing old harmonium to -the door. Outside there was clear blue moonlight. "Where's my horse?" -says he. - -Crook was lighting a cigarette. "Yo' hawss," says he, "is in the stable. -He's unsaddled, rubbed down, watered and fed, befo' now. I reckon you -want to be watered and fed yo'self." - -"No, kid, I'm not feeling proud enough for that." - -"Come on, then," says Crook, "and watch me eat. I'm just a lil' wolf -inside, and if I cayn't feed I'll howl." - -They went to the pie foundry round the corner, and when Jim saw Crook -eat he surely got ravenous. They both fed tree and severe, then strayed -back heavy to the street in front of the Sepulchre saloon. - -"Sit on yo' tail," says Crook, "and I'll feed you a cigarette." So they -sat down on the sidewalk, and Jim yawned two yards and a quarter at one -stretch. - -"I cal'late," says Crook, "that yo' goin' to be riding to-night, so I -had yo' saddle thrown on my buckskin mare." - -"I'll be riding my bed on the sleep-trail." - -"Riding a hawss, I reckon"--Crook bent forward, pulling up his boot legs -by the tags--"and me too and the Dook. Our hawsses are waiting for us -at the back door of this saloon. You understand?" - -"I don't," says Jim. "Do you know, youngster, that only this morning I -buried my mother, then I rode a hundred miles, and if Arizona freezes -over to-night we'll go skating for all I care." - -"Say, if the Dook gets shot up to-night will you be a lord?" - -Jim laughed sort of patronising because he liked the youngster's cheek. -"My father isn't pining for any such thing to-night." - -"But suppose he went daid, would you be a lord?" - -"I'd be Jim du Chesnay, riding for whatever wages I'm worth. A lord! -what's the use of that?" - -"But it must be fine!" - -"It may be good enough for my father, but he's Irish, and he doesn't -know any better. I'm an American." - -"But still you'd be a lord." - -"Would my lordship keep my pony from stumbling in front of a stampede of -cattle? Would it save my scalp from Apaches, or help my little calves -when the mountain lions want meat? Does my blood protect me from -rattlesnakes, or Ryans, or skunks?" - -"But there's the big land grant yo' people owns over in Ireland." - -"It's tied up with entail, whatever that means, and there's no money in -it, anyway. My tail in the old country doesn't save me from being galled -in the saddle here, and I'm awfully tired." - -"Same here, seh. I'm weary some myself. Yo' gun is loaded?" - -Jim pawed his revolver. "Yes." - -"Take some more," said Crook, and passed over a handful of cartridges to -fill Jim's belt. Jim saw that the cripple was armed. - -"Why do you talk," says he, "about horses waiting for us, and the need -of guns, and father getting killed? What's the trouble, my lad?" - -"The trouble is that Ryan has hired that gambling outfit to skin the -Dook to-night. There's men standing round to see he don't leave that -house alive. Now, look along the street here to the left, across at the -Mortuary Hotel. You see old Ryan settin' there?" - -"I do." - -"He's waiting for his son, the millionaire, young Michael. He's due with -his private cyar at ten o'clock. If Michael comes--if he comes, I -say--his father reckons to bring him over to call on yo' father here at -the 'Sepulchre.' That's why the Dook is bein' skinned, and that's why -Ryan's men are watching to see he don't escape alive." - -"But what does Ryan want? He's got our breeding cattle, he's taken -Holy Cross, my mother's gone--we've nothing left to take." - -"You have yo' lives, you and the Dook. Ryan and his outfit allow they'll -wipe you out when Michael comes." - -"Is that all?" Jim laughed. "They're thoughtful and painstaking, anyway. -By the way, I don't know that my father and I have been shrieking for -help as yet." - -"If you were the kind of people to make a big song when yo're hurt, I -reckon that we-all would jest leave you squeal." - -"And who is we-all? You've acted like a white man to-night, looking -after my poor roan and me like a little brother. But why should you -care, young chap? I've never seen you before in my life; I don't even -know your name." - -"My name is Crook; I works at the stable." - -"But why should you interfere? You may get hurt. I wouldn't like that, -youngster." - -"Wall, partner"--Crook shuffled a whole lot nervous--"I got a message -for you from the boys. The Dook's had nothing but greasers working for -him, and that's rough on us white men, but still he's surely good. He's -dead straight, he don't wear no frills, and many a po' puncher, broke, -hungry, half daid of thirst, has been treated like a son at Holy Crawss. -We don't amount to much--'cept when you want an enemy or a friend--but -our tribe is right into this fight a whole heap, for them Ryans is -dirt; and if they comes up agin you to-night I expaict there'll be -gun-play first." - -"Well, kid," said Jim, yawning with a big mouth, "I wish they'd put it -off until to-morrow." - -"Yo' eyes is like boiled aigs. Try a cigarette to keep you awake." - -"Can't we get my father away from this house?" - -"Not till the train comes in." - -"What's that got to do with me?" - -"Ask no more questions--wait." - -"You say that Michael Ryan's due at ten?" - -"If they lets him come." - -"Suppose he comes?" - -"Then nothing can save yo' father, nothing on airth." - -As he spoke the sharp screech of the engine rang out from behind the -curve, and with all its lights aflash the train rolled in. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE GUN-FIGHT - - -Before supper that evening a passing traveller carried a letter to my -ranche, and when my boys found out that there was going to be trouble in -town they surely flirted gravel for fear of arriving too late. I placed -them at a convenient saloon, explained my plans, made them swear that -they would not stray. Then I went to Curly's room, and lay low, showing -no light, but watching the Mortuary Hotel just across the street. - -Ryan sat there in his piazza, ruddy and full, broad and bald as a barn, -a ripe man with a grey chin beard. Yes, he was a cheery old soul, -popular with the crowd, a power in local politics, well qualified on the -outside of him for paradise, and in the innards of him for the other -place. I covered him with my gun, and wondered where he would go to when -he died. I expect he would be craving then for some of that lager beer -he sipped so peaceful, and for the palm-leaf fan which he used to brush -off the heat. - -Away off to the right I could see Jim sitting on the sidewalk in front -of the "Sepulchre." Little Crook was feeding brandy to him, and -cigarettes to keep him away from sleep. Then the train came rumbling in, -let out a screech, and stopped. It made me laugh to think what a big -hurroar there would be presently when the news got wind of that train -being held up by robbers, and Mr. Michael Ryan led away captive. - -Yet there seemed to be no excitement. The usual buses and buggies came -up from the station, the ordinary crowd of loafers, and then our only -cab, which crawled to the "Mortuary" to drop one passenger. He was a fat -young man, dressed most surprising in a stove-pipe hat, a Jew fur coat, -gloves, and a smart valise. If any of our cowboys had happened around, -they would have fired a shot for luck to see if he wasn't some new kind -of bird, but old Ryan came down the steps with a roar of welcome. - -"Michael!" he shouted, "where's your palace car? Have you sunk so low as -to come in a mere cab? Oh, Mike!" - -I could hear Mr. Michael explaining that something was wrong with the -car, so he'd had to leave her at Lordsburgh for repairs. Of course, the -robbers, not seeing the private car, had concluded that their prey had -failed to arrive and the train was not worth attacking. - -Now Michael had arrived, and after a talk and a drink with his father, -these two would stroll over to finish the family vengeance on poor -Balshannon. As far as we had missed getting help from the range wolves, -so matters were getting mighty serious. - -I slipped away to my men. - -"Boys," says I, "we got to play at robbers to-night, I reckon, but I -don't want you-all to get recognised. We may be bucking up against the -law, and get ourselves disliked if we ain't cautious." So I took a big -black silk handkerchief and cut it up into strips. "When the shooting -begins," says I, "just you tie these round your heads to hide yo' homely -faces. Now get yo' horses and come swift." - -I posted the three in the small alley which ran between the "Sepulchre" -saloon and the post office beyond it. Then I went out to guard -Balshannon. Being naturally a timid and cautious man, I had a brace of -revolvers belted on ready for trouble. - -Meanwhile young Crook in the front of the house was sitting all doubled -up with grief at the sight of Michael Ryan. - -"Boy," says Jim, "what's the matter?" - -"Nothin'." - -"How is it, young un, that you know all about my father's affairs and -mine?" - -"I expaict," says that one-eyed cripple, "that working my job at the -livery I'd oughter know what comes and goes around heah." - -"Is that why you're there--to watch?" - -Crook went white at that. "You're dreaming," says he, very faint. - -"And you're lending me the buckskin running mare for to-night. I've -heard of that mare. Is that the sort of thing to lend to a stranger?" - -"Well, seh, even a hired man may have his private feelings." - -"Look here, youngster, I've seen you before, and I remember you now. -When I saw you once at Holy Cross you had two eyes in your head, and you -weren't a cripple." - -Suddenly Jim snatched away the black pad which was slung over Crook's -disabled eye. Two good eyes shone out, and over one of them the scar of -an old wound. Jim laughed at that, but Crook forgot to be lame, starting -back lithe as a panther and his face dead white. - -"Be careful!" he whispered, "there's men passing us! My life ain't worth -a cent if I'm seen heah in town." He had the sling across his eye again -and broke out laughing. "I mean the doctor says I got to keep it -covered, or I'll go blind--and a blind man's life ain't worth one cent -in the dollar." - -"Quit lying! You're posted at the stable to see who comes and goes, one -eye in a sling and one game leg for disguise. Come here!" - -Jim dragged him by the scruff of the neck to the post office, which -stood next door to the saloon, with only the alley between, and there -was an old poster notice on the wall:-- - - "NOTICE. - - "The Northern Pacific and Wells Fargo Express Companies offer - ($2,000) two thousand dollars, - - DEAD OR ALIVE, - - for the four robbers who held up the Northern Pacific Express train - at Gold Creek, Deer Lodge County, Montana, on the morning of April - 3rd, 1899. Descriptions:-- - - "Peter, _alias_ Bobby Stark, _alias_ Curly McCalmont, supposed to - be son of Captain McCalmont, is five feet six inches in height, - slim, fair hair, blue eyes, clean-shaven, soft girlish manner, with - a scar over left eye, the result of a knife wound. He is about - twenty years of age, but looks not more than fifteen, and was - formerly a cowboy, riding for the Holy Cross Outfit in Arizona. He - was last seen on or about May 5th, at Clay Flat, in the Painted - Desert, with a flea-bitten grey gelding branded x on the near - stifle, and two led burros, one of them packed." - -Jim turned round sharp on Crook. "You're Curly McCalmont!" says he. - -"Come away--yo' risking my neck." - -"Do you think I'd sell you for that dirty money?" - -"What you seen, others may, and they'd act haidstrong." - -"All right, Curly. Don't you forget to walk lame." - -"Hist! Heah come the Ryans!" - -The two youngsters came hurrying into the saloon, where I stood watching -Balshannon while he lost the last of his money. Jim clutched me by the -arm, whispering something, but I did not catch what he said, for Curly -was making a last play to get Balshannon from the tables. - -"You quit," said he, "befo' yo're too late, patrone." - -"It's too late now," says Balshannon; "what's the good?" - -"It's not too late to save yo' life. Come quick!" - -"So," says Balshannon, looking up sort of surprised, "you think you can -er--_frighten_ me?" - -Louisiana was leaning forward across the table. "Look a-here, Crook," -says he, "you can play, or you can get right out, but you don't -interrupt this game." And Curly was hustled aside by Ryan's watchers. - -"Now, Joe," the patrone was saying, "let's finish this." - -He staked his last chips and lost, then got up with a little sigh, -thinking, I reckon, of his wife, his ranche, his cattle. - -"I'm kind of sorry, Dook," says Louisiana. - -"So am I, a little," Balshannon chuckled. - -"I think," says the gambler, stacking away his great big heaps of gold -and silver coin--"I think that----" - -"You are fortunate, Pete," Balshannon answered lightly, "I dare not -think." - -"I'm closing the game for to-night," says Louisiana. - -"I'm closing the game to-night," says Lord Balshannon. - -He took a cigarette-case from his pocket, but found it empty, felt in -his shabby old clothes for money, then turned away with a queer little -laugh of his which made me ache. - -Outside in the street I heard a hand-bell clang, and took notice through -the tail of my eye that the room was filling with all the worst men in -that bad town of ours. There was the Alabama Kid, and beside him Shorty -Broach, stage robber and thug, Beef Jones, the horse-thief, Gas, a -tin-horn crook, Thimble-Rig Phipps, and two or three other sure-thing -gamblers, rollers, and thugs. I went over to the front end of the house, -where the orchestra were packing up to quit, and there at the far corner -of the bar were old Ryan and Michael standing drinks to the crowd. Yes, -the game was being set sure enough. I saw Low-Lived Joe hurry past me -and speak in a whisper to Ryan, and at that Balshannon's enemy stood out -to the front of his gang. All the scrubs and skin-game men were -drifting into that corner behind him, until there must have been perhaps -thirty gathered, loosing their guns to be ready. - -By the faro tables were Jim and Curly trying to get Balshannon out of -the house, but he broke away, and they followed until he came to the -inner end of the bar. Then they stood back a little, while he waited to -be served. - -"Here, Bill!" he called out cheerfully. - -A bar-keep quit the Ryans and went to serve him. "Well," says he, heaps -insolent, "what do you want?" - -The patrone looked at him smiling. "You seem out of sorts, Bill; have a -drink with me. I'll take a whisky." - -The bar-keep glared at him. - -"Oh, by the way," says Balshannon, "I'll have to square up for this -to-morrow morning." - -"Terms cash," says the bar-keep. - -"Really?" Balshannon smiled at his ugly face. "Oh, of course--your -orders, eh? Well, never mind. You're so polite, Bill, that--er--that -just by way of thanks I'll ask you to accept this little token." He -chucked him the silver cigarette-case and turned away from the bar. - -But I was bull-roaring mad. "Patrone," says I, "patrone, I owe you heaps -of money. Here, take this!" - -But Balshannon laid both his hands upon my shoulders, smiling right into -my eyes. "Dear friend," he said, "you know I could not take money, even -from you." - -A thick voice was calling from the other end of the bar: "Here, -bar-keep, you give this man a drink!" - -Then the patrone looked round. "Ah, Ryan, eh?" He walked straight up to -his enemy. "I'll drink with you gladly, Ryan. Suppose we forget the -past, and try to be good--er--friends, eh?" He held out his hand, but -Ryan took no notice. "Hello, I see your son is with you, Ryan. Good -evening, Michael." - -Michael just stared at him. - -The people who had no interest in the trouble must have seen drawn guns -before now, because I heard them breaking rapid for cover. The scrub -which belonged to Ryan was formed up behind him for war, while back of -Balshannon stood only Jim and Curly with the whole rear part of the room -behind them empty. The two youngsters seemed to be having baby troubles, -for Curly was struggling powerful to break away from Jim. - -"I got to," he shouted, "I cayn't see to shoot!" Then he jumped clear. -He had disremembered about being a cripple, he had torn the bandage away -from his eye, and over the left brow, clear for all men to see, was his -brand, the knife wound! At that a yell went up from Ryan's crowd, and -some of his men surged forward, Louisiana and Low-Lived Joe in the lead. - -I jumped straight at them with my brace of guns. - -"Back!" shouted Ryan, holding them back with both arms. "Back! What's -your hurry? Wait!" - -"Come on!" came Curly's clear high yell. "Two thousand dollars daid or -alive if you take me! I'm a sure wolf, and it's my night to howl, you -cowards! I'm Curly McCalmont of the Robbers' Roost! Take me who can!" - -Curly had gone plumb crazy, throwing his life away to get Balshannon one -more chance of escape, but the crooks only saw that the small boy's team -of guns were quick in his hands to shoot, and felt real glad of Ryan's -outstretched arms. So came the lull, and I heard the bar-keep clashing -down bottle and glass beside Balshannon. - -"Whisky," says he in a shaky voice, "and yours, Mr. Ryan?" - -"Irish," said Ryan, then whispered to his son, who hauled clumsy, -getting out his silver-plated pop-shooter, a thing more fit for a girl -than a grown man. - -I like to think of my old patrone in those last moments of his life, as -he stood at the end of the bar, quiet peaceful, facing Ryan. He was a -tall, straight man, gaunt some, dead weary, but the only clean thing in -sight. The grey moustache raked up against the red tan of his face, his -hair was curling silver, his eyes cool blue. He seemed to be amused with -the Ryans, and as to weapons, he just despised a gun. Then he heard the -clash of his son's spurs just behind him. "Good-bye," I heard him -whisper. "God bless you, Jim." - -I reckon Jim was crying. - -Ryan had swung forward along the bar, and reached for Balshannon's empty -glass. "Here, take your drink," he shouted, "the drink you begged for!" - -Balshannon stepped aside while Ryan filled the glass for him to drink. -"Thank you," he said. But Ryan snatched the full glass, jumped back, -swung out his arm--"Take that!" he yelled, and threw the glass straight -at Balshannon's face. - -The patrone took a handkerchief and wiped his face, slow and dainty, but -the blood was starting where the glass had struck. "I'm sorry," he said, -"that it should come to this, but as you are not in condition, Mr. Ryan, -to fight, I must ask you, Mr. Michael Ryan, to oblige me." - -"Fight?" yelled Ryan. "Fight a thing like you? Not much! Back, Michael! -My Lord Balshannon," he sneered, "do you think my son would demean -himself to fight you?" - -"I observe," said Balshannon kindly, "that he seems to be rather warm in -that fur overcoat." - -The crowd broke out laughing, half ready, I felt then to take the -weaker side against a coward. The patrone was so surely great, so much a -man, so helpless--death in his eyes, peace on his smiling lips; and the -Ryans in furs and jewellery looked such curs. - -I had stepped back against the wall, facing the middle of the bar. On -the right was the Ryan gang, on the left Balshannon, behind me the row -of windows which looked on the alley-way where my men lay hid. I rapped -soft with my knuckles on the window just at my right hand. - -"Say, Chalkeye!" Louisiana was hailing me. "Why don't you stand by the -Dook? Have you gone back on the Dook?" - -"I stand here, Pete," said I, "to see fair play." - -Then Ryan broke in on me. - -"Boys," he said, "we don't need Chalkeye Davies to judge our play. You -know me, all of you; you know my record, and what I've done for our -city. I've not asked you here, citizens, to see murder, or fighting of -any sort, but to witness an act of justice done by this Lord Balshannon -on himself." - -The crowd kept still, remembering that our leading citizen had acted -straight for our city, and had a right to be heard. - -"Now you shall judge as citizens," said Ryan, "between this man and me. -For a thousand years my people, the Ryans, had land and homes in -Oireland, until the Balshannons came over with bloody Cromwell to steal -our little holdings by force of ar-r-ms. We were overpowered, we were -forced to pay rent to the tyrants, but we were free men, not slaves; we -are free men to-day, and we have fought for liberty. - -"Look at this last Balshannon, this man who once tried to get me hung on -a false charge, this cowardly, brutal ruffian, who drove me and all my -people out of our homes to die in the bitter cold. Think of our women -starving to death in the snow-drifts--and, if you doubt me, go and ask -me wife. We were driven, she and I, and all our people, out of the land -we loved, out of Erin, beggared, hopeless, despairing exiles. Out on the -black Atlantic we had to bury one of my little children in the -sea--there stands the murderer! Do you blame me, citizens, for wanting -vengeance?" - -"Dook," says the Alabama Kid, "suppose we hear your side?" - -"You'll hear my side," says Lord Balshannon, "from Ryan. This is his -court--of--er--justice." Then he wiped the running blood from his cheek, -and yawned behind his hand. Even Ryan's men began to look ashamed of -such a court. - -"Vengeance!" Ryan was howling; "vengeance with the Apaches first--I -turned them loose on your camp! Vengeance with McCalmont's robbers--I -turned them loose on your ranche!" - -Balshannon swung half round and grasped Curly McCalmont's hand. We saw -his back shaking with laughter, but when he faced Ryan again he -straightened his lips. "Excuse me," he said, "go on." - -But the crowd remembered how McCalmont's wolves had breakfasted with -Ryan after that little dinner at Holy Cross. They howled with laughter. - -"You may laugh!" yelled Ryan; "laugh, you hounds!" but Balshannon lifted -his hand, and the crowd were silent. - -"Yes, I failed," said Ryan. "I had to wait--I waited--but what I -couldn't do you did for yourself; yes, you, Balshannon, drinking and -gambling here while your forsaken wife lay dying yonder! I had only to -find a few friends to lend you me money, and sharpers to be after -rooking you of all you borrowed. Yes, that was me vengeance; can you say -that failed? Where is your big estate? Where are your cattle? Where is -your wife?" - -Balshannon's face had gone dead with pain, but he never flinched. - -"And now," Ryan shouted at him, "you beggared gambler, you broken, -shaking drunkard, you shall finish this vengeance on yourself, which you -began, which needs no hand of mine! Here!" He ran forward, and jammed a -long knife into Balshannon's hand. "Finish! Kill yourself, and have -done, for shure an' you're not fit to live, ye filthy beast!" - -Balshannon was reeling, faint, sick, clinging to the bar for support. - -"Boys," I shouted, "if Ryan's a man, let him fight. Stand aside, give -him room, give him a gun. Patrone, take this gun!" I jumped to his side, -jammed one of my revolvers into his hand, then leapt back to my place by -the wall. Ryan's tin-horn pets had deserted him; even his son, scared to -death, had slunk away. - -"Help!" Ryan was screaming. "Murther!" But a gun was thrust into his -hand, and his own hired thugs shoved him forward to fight Balshannon. - -"When I call 'Three!'" I shouted, and saw Balshannon stand like a man, -cool, steady. - -"One, two, three!" - -Ryan fired and missed before my second call, but at the "Three" -Balshannon's gun blazed out. I saw a little black hole between Ryan's -eyes, and he fell forward all in a heap, stone dead. - -I reckon that for years I'd been heaps virtuous keeping my quick gun off -Balshannon's meat, so now I was full of joy because the patrone had -finished up all the unpleasantness and made peace without loss or -damage. No grown responsible man had any quarrel left. - -But then my youngsters weren't grown up a bit, nor responsible, nor -anything else, but rattled with a gun-fight too rich for their blood. -Curly was scared all to pieces, Jim was right off his head, and as to -my three kids outside the window, they had no sense anyways at their -best. I ought to have thought of that before; it was too late now. - -What matter if young Michael eased his feelings by empting off his toy -at the patrone? His pellets chipped the ceiling, and did him credit for -a pious son, but only got a laugh from Balshannon. Michael just went on -popping ostentatious, so Balshannon showed he bore no malice by throwing -his own gun on the bar. Then somebody called out for drinks as a sign of -peace. - -But Jim only saw his father being attacked, and he surely never had a -sense of humour. He turned his wolf-howl loose, and broke his gun-arm -free from Curly's hold, then started splashing lead at Michael Ryan. I -saw some fur fly off from the Jew coat, and the next shot dispersed -young Michael's hat, but the third struck Low-Lived Joe on the shoulder. - -Then there was surely war, for Louisiana loved that Joe more than -anything else on earth, and all his friends lashed out their guns. Curly -knelt quick below the blast of lead, and Jim leapt sudden behind the end -of the bar, but in a blaze of flame and rolling smoke I saw Balshannon -clutch both hands to his heart, then swing half round and fall. - -It must have been then that poor Curly fired the two shots which killed -Louisiana and Beef Jones, the horse thief. It must have been then that -the window close beside me fell with a crash of glass upon the floor, -and my three men, all masked, with guns and rifles poured red-hot -slaughter into the Ryan crowd. That was bad, but I felt grateful then, -while one by one I shot out the swinging lamps which lit the smoke. -There were five, making so many shades of deeper gloom, and then dead -blackness pierced by flaming guns, and at the end of that silence, with -a patter of running feet, the groan of a dying man. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE CITY BOILING OVER - - -Once I remember seeing an old bear roped in the desert by cowboys, and -dragged by the scruff of his neck into the fierce electric glare of a -Western city. Some female tourists said he looked dreadful rough, a -school ma'am squealed out he was dangerous, a preacher allowed he was -savage, but nobody made excuses for that old bear. Now I reckon that I'm -just like Mr. Bear, dragged sudden off the range into the indecent light -of civilization. Nobody is going to make allowances for me if I look -dreadful rough, and savage, and dangerous. I own up I've no excuse. Bear -and I were raised outside the prickly fences of your laws, beyond the -shelter of your respectable customs, exposed to all the heat and cold, -the light and darkness, the good and the bad of life. Bear, he has teeth -and claws, as I have horse and gun; but both of us fight or go dead, for -that is our business. If you're shocked, quit reading; but if you want -more, read on. - -When I knew that Balshannon was due to be shot I set a trap, and all the -desperadoes at Grave City walked right into it. I had the men picked out -who would make a good loss, sent out the invitations to them in Ryan's -name, and had a hand-bell clanged to call them in for the ceremonies. If -Ryan only played fair there would be no killing, but if he acted foul -there was going to be a sure enough massacre. Why, it was only right -that on the death of a great chief like Balshannon servants should go -with him to the other world. That was all known to my three masked men -in ambush, and when Ryan acted foul he was sent with Louisiana, Beef -Jones, and four others, all desperadoes, to wait upon Balshannon--beyond -the flames and smoke of his funeral honours. - -For a naturally cautious and timid man I took fool risks in exposing -Curly to that danger; but honest range-raised fighters are more than a -match for the drunken town swabs who had to be dispersed. Besides, my -youngsters were not the kind to stay put in a place of safety. After the -fight, if there was one, I knew that the fire-bell would call up the -whole of the citizens, and the news would spread swifter than flames, of -masked robbers attacking a saloon right in the middle of their peaceful -town. They would be displeased, and rather apt to send in their little -account to me, which made me blush to think of, because I lay myself out -to be a modest man. - -When I got through with shooting out all the lights my men quit firing -to haul me through the window. Now all four of us were in the -alley-way, between the saloon and the post office, barred off from the -main street by a high gate, while our line of escape was open to the -rear. Being shy of recognition, I tied on a mask, and reloaded my gun, -planning the next move rapid in my head. Then I called off my men to the -tail end of the house, posting one to kill anybody who tried to get out -by my window. I was scheming a raid into the house to rescue Curly and -Jim, but just for a moment my riders hung back scared. - -"Come along, you tigers!" says I. There was no need to risk our lives, -for through the black silence of the house came a sudden blaze of guns -and rush of men. Curly and Jim had broken cover at last, so we had only -to let them come, rolling out head over heels in no end of a hurry. As -soon as they were clear we handed in lead to the crowd, stampeded them, -and sprinkled their tails. They were surely discouraged. - -The next thing was to mount our horses and reload guns while we rode off -slow. Jim was shaking all over, Curly was sobbing aloud, Monte, one of -my boys, was groaning because a bullet had burned his cheek, Ute -breathing like a gone horse, and Custer making little yelps of joy--all -of us scary as cats with our nerves on the jump, the same being natural -after a red-hot fight. We pulled out by the south end of the city. - -"Now," said I, "you, Curly, and you, Jim, light out ahead and keep -a-flying for old Mexico." - -Curly howled, "We ain't goin' to leave you!" - -I had to make my meaning quick and plain before he knew I was earnest. -As to Jim, I cut his words dead short--and so they quit me streaking off -to the south. - -"Now, you-all!" I turned to my tigers. - -Custer let out his yelp, and Ute grinned ugly, and both of them thought -all the world of me for getting them into trouble. - -"Monte," says I, "go home and fix that wound." - -He circled off. - -"Well," says I, "if you other two play any more tiger to-night, I'll rip -your lives out. You got to be plumb good citizens, 'cause them people in -the 'Sepulchre' have seen about ten masked robbers, which they'll surely -hunt. So off with them masks quick," and I threw mine in the road. - -"Now," says I, "we'll see if the general public is going to help us to -get them robbers and kill them." - -So we three trotted grave and innocent up Main Street, where scores of -citizens were saddling, mounting, and gathering, the swift men calling -the laggards. In the lead rode Deputy-Marshal Pedersen, coming on rapid. - -"Hello," he called, "you, Chalkeye!" - -I swung in beside him. "What's the delay?" says I. - -"How many robbers?" - -"Ten masked men, come on! They're McCalmont's gang." - -Custer and Ute were calling the rest to hustle. "Ten masked robbers," -they shouted, "heading down for Naco!" - -"Thought you was in the 'Sepulchre'!" says Pedersen. - -"I was till I'd shot out the lights," says I; "them crazy idiots there -were handing out lead at me." - -"Where did you see them robbers?" - -"In the back street. They wounded my boy Monte, so I had to send him -home. Say, look at that!" - -Ahead on the white road, plain in the moonlight, lay something black, so -I swung down my arm in passing, and took a grab. "What d'ye make of -this, eh, Pedersen?" - -"A silk mask," says he. "Thanks, Chalkeye--you've got us on the right -trail, anyways." - -"But watch these tracks," say I; "look there--they're quitting the main -road--swing out!" - -Curly and Jim had struck straight south down the road, so I pointed the -whole pursuit well off to the right, south-west for Naco, and made -believe I saw another mask among the stones. If dangerous robbers were -hard to see through the moonshine, that was no fault of mine. If the -citizens wanted to go riding out by moonlight, I surely gave them heaps -good exercise. - -Meanwhile that Curly was herding Jim down towards the Mexican boundary; -but both the lads were rattled, and their nerves had gone all to smash. -Jim had dumb yearnings to go back and eat up citizens, Curly was trying -to cry with one lip while he laughed with the other. Then Jim told Curly -not to be a coward, and Curly laughed with the tears rolling down his -face. - -"I wisht I was daid," he howled, "I wisht I was daid. I done murdered -Beef Jones, and there's his ole hawss a-waiting to take him home. He -loved that hawss." - -"And you a robber!" says Jim, mighty scornful. Jim had only courage, a -thing which is usual to all sorts of men and beasts, but Curly had -something bigger--brains, judgment, the lion heart, the eagle sight, the -woman gentleness, a child's own innocence, and heaven's unselfishness. - -"I'm a sure coward," he sobbed. - -"Brace up, youngster. I saw you kill both Beef and Louisiana, but now -you're gone all rotten." - -"Between the eyes, I got Pete between the eyes! I seen his eyes goin' up -all white--the hole between--oh, how I wisht I was daid!" - -"Poor little beggar! And one would think this was the first time you'd -ever seen a gun-fight." - -"I never seen one, never until now." - -"And you McCalmont's son!" - -"You needn't let on to him that y'u seen me--human. Wall," he braced -himself up, "I'm only a range wolf, so what's the odds, Jim?" - -"Well, what's wrong now?" - -"Do you know you're outlawed too? Old Chalkeye masked his riders, he -played robbers, I showed wolf, and you're done branded with the range -wolves now." - -Jim swung round in the saddle, looking back at Grave City, a bad sample -surely among cities, but still entitled to wave Old Glory high, the flag -of honest men, of civilisation. - -He set his teeth and swung to his trail again. - -"If honesty is _that_," says he determinedly, "I'll herd with thieves." - -"I don't like the smell of this trail," says Curly, "none. The City -Marshal is riding up from Bisley with his posse. Let's strike west, then -circle the town, then north, to father's camp." - -"Come on," says Jim, and swung his horse to the west along a small dead -trail. - -"We got to change ourselves," says McCalmont's son, and began to loose -some parcels tied by the strings to his saddle. "I got some clothes for -we-all. Here," he passed over an old leather jacket, a straw sombrero, -and a bottle. "That's cawffee extract," says he, "mixed with a black -drug. I boiled it strong. You rub it over yo' face and neck and paws, -then rig yo'self." - -Our people, at any gait in the saddle, are broke to eat dinner, drink -from a bottle, roll a cigarette, or sing a song without being jarred up -like a tenderfoot. So while they trotted slow Jim stained his hide all -black like a greaser _vaquero_, then slung on the _charro_ clothes of a -poor Mexican cowboy. - -"Now," says Curly, "you take this moustache and lick the gummy side, -stick it on yo' lip, and remember yo're a Dago. Say, pull up, they'll -know that buckskin mare of mine for sure. There ain't another in the -United States I reckon with white points like her'n. You empty that -bottle, and black her white stockings, quick." - -Curly was changing too, for he pulled up the legs of his overalls, then -wriggled them down over his long boots. Then he took Jim's cowboy hat, -and slouched the brim down front like a hayseed boy. He put on a raggy -old jacket, and bulged his lean cheeks out with pads of wool. He looked -a farm boy, and when they rode on, sat like a sack of oats. - -"It won't work," says Jim, "here's a big outfit of people sweeping right -down from the north. Our horses are blown, and their snorting will give -us away." - -"Dot vash all righd," says Curly. - -"That wouldn't pass for German," says Jim, "not even in a fog." - -"Shure," says Curly, "is it me forgettin' me nativity? Amn't I Oirish?" - -They had entered the Naco trail by this, and were walking their horses -up the hill for Grave City. If the silly kids had obeyed my orders we -should never have seen a hair of them that night. As it was, -Deputy-Marshal Pedersen and I came with full thirty men on top of them. - -I don't profess I knew either the Irish hayseed boy or the _vaquero_, -until the black horse, a melancholy plug called Jones which I'd lent -Curly, began to whicker to the grey mare I rode. Pedersen, too, was -mortal suspicious of that buckskin mare with Jim. - -"Black points," says he. "That's so--Crook's had white laigs." - -"Shure," says Curly, prompt, "an' is it thim robbers ye'd be afther -hunting?" - -Pedersen reined up. - -"They've passed you, eh?" he called. - -"Didn't they shoot me," says Curly, "till I'm kilt entoirely? There was -elivan av thim agin' me and the young feller that was along with me, the -rapscallions, and thim with black masks on their dirthy faces!" - -"How long since?" - -"Three minutes gone, yer 'anner; and can any of yez tell me if this is -the road to Misther Chalkeye Davies?" - -Pedersen had spurred on, and we swept after him, leaving Mr. Curly -McCalmont howling Irish curses because we hadn't pointed him on his -trail to Las Salinas. - -We were scarcely gone when a second outfit of five stragglers came -rolling down the trail, headed by Shorty Broach, one of the men who had -been hurt that night in the gun-fight. He always hated Balshannon's -folks worse than snakes; he was heaps eager now for Curly McCalmont's -blood; and the two thousand dollars which went along with it. But worse -than that, this Shorty was a sure plainsman, who never forgot a horse. -Still he went past with his crowd before he saw anything wrong with that -black horse I'd lent, or the buckskin mare Jim was riding. Then he -swung. - -"Hold on, boys! Say, I knows that buckskin. That's Crook's buckskin mare -at the livery--here's Curly McCalmont's mare!" - -The riders tried to call Shorty off, told him to soak his head, -remembered that Crook's buckskin had white stockings, whereas this -mare's points were black, which made all the difference. - -"Them horses is blown, they're run full hard," says Broach; "they've -been surely chased, and I'm due to inquire more." - -On that the riders began to circle around, while Curly slung out Irish -by the yard about running away from the robbers. - -"Shure," says he, "and it's the Chief of the Police no less we're -talkin' wid." - -"Throw up your hands!" says Broach, pointing his gun on Jim, but the -youngster was busy rolling a cigarette. - -"Why is that gringo showing off with a gun?" he asked in Spanish. "He -looks so foolish, too!" - -"You got to account for that buckskin mare," says Broach, but Jim set in -the cool moonlight and lit his cigarette, taking no notice. - -"This greaser is lately an orphan, sorr," says Curly, "an' he's only -goin' innocent for a dhrunk in Grave City--maning no harr-m at all." - -"Where did he get that buckskin?" - -"It's the 'pitchfork' mare ye'll be maning, sorr?" - -At last Jim knew the brand on the mare he was riding. - -"Indade," says Curly, "hasn't she got an Holy Crawss brand on the -shoulder as well, sorr? Maybe he stole her there." - -"If you want to live, Mr. Greaser, you'll account for that buckskin -mare," Broach threatened again with his gun. - -"I understand," says Jim in Spanish, puffing his cigarette at Shorty's -face. "I took this mare in trade at la Morita Custom House on the Line. -A Vaquero Americano could not pay the hundred per cent. duty on his -horse, so I traded with him my Mexican-branded mustang to oblige, -taking this mare. She's branded 'Holy Cross,' rebranded 'pitchfork.' -Perhaps the gentlemen will stand aside--I have explained." - -"All very well," said Broach in Spanish, which sounded rough like a -railroad accident, "how do you account for that saddle, Jim du Chesnay's -silver-mounted saddle?" - -"Si Seņor, the saddle of my young lord el Seņor Don Sant Iago, of Holy -Cross. The caballero ordered me to bring these, that he might play bear -before the house of a beautiful lady in Grave City." - -"And your own saddle?" - -"Alas! I played poker with the Americanos. They have skinned me." Jim -made a little flourish, twisted the moustache. It came off in his -fingers! - -And with a howl the whole crowd closed in. They had captured Jim du -Chesnay and Curly McCalmont! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE MAN-HUNT - - -I reckon that civilised folks are trained to run in a rut, to live by -rule, to do what's expected. If they're chased they'll run, if they're -caught they surrender. That's the proper thing to do. - -Our plainsman, he's a much resourceful animal: he never runs in the rut, -and he always does exactly what's not expected. Here were Jim and Curly -surrounded by five men all hot for war. Broach could shoot good, but his -horse was a plumb idiot when it came to firing. He was scared he would -miss Jim, and get the counter-jumper who pranced around behind. Of the -rest, one was a railroad man, and useless at that, one was a carpenter, -and one was a barber--all of them bad shots. Still, they knew that their -prisoners could neither fight nor run. - -The prisoners did both most sudden, and heaps surprising. While Jim's -moustache was dropping, Curly's first bullet got Broach's horse in the -eye, sending him backwards over on top of the man. Jim unhorsed the -railroad man, the carpenter disabled the barber, and the counter-jumper -bolted. - -That posse was all demoralised, shooting liberal, attracting heaps of -attention. So another belated outfit of citizens came whooping down the -road, while at the first sound of battle, the crowd I was with swung -round at full gallop to share the play. I knew my youngsters were in -foul bad luck. - -Yet in a single evening these two had got to feeling each other's -thoughts, acting together without talk, partners like the hands of a -man. They knew that for them it was death to show on the skyline, sure -good scouting to jump for the lowest ground, and keep the dust a-rolling -to hide their movements. They struck a gulley, and Jim led over rock and -cactus, riding slack rein, trusting that buckskin mare. After the first -five minutes, looking round, he saw the belated outfit along the skyline -following, and heard the whoops of our crowd closing in on the left. - -"I reckon," says Curly, "they'll get us." - -"Very awkward," says Jim. - -"Say, Curly," he called out, "there's a fence here somewhere on -Chalkeye's pasture. It's broken where it cuts this arroyo, but just -'ware wire! Here! 'Ware wire!" - -The mare took a stumble, but cleared the fallen wire. The black horse -just jumped high. Up on the plain above the pursuit was going to be -checked by my standing fence. - -"We're plumb in luck to the lips," says Curly. - -And now the rocky hollow widened out, the trail was smooth, the pace -tremendous. While our citizens behind were having a check betwixt rock -and wire, Jim struck the further gate of my pasture, and held it wide -for Curly. Horsemanship had given the partners a mile of gain, but now, -on level ground, where any fool could ride, our posse gained rapidly, -for the youngsters had to go moderate and save their horses. - -"Down on yo' hawss," says Curly, "you ride too proud," and a spatter of -blue lead made Jim lie humble. The fool gallopers were right handy for -war, when sudden the winding valley poured out its fan of débris upon -the lower plain towards Mexico. Here just below the mouth of the arroyo -a railroad track swung right across the trail on a high embankment. On -the nigh side of the embankment ran a waggon trail, climbing a hill on -the left to cross the track, and that was sure foul luck for Jim and -Curly, for now they rode out clear against the sky in a storm of lead, -and began to reckon they was due at the big front door of heaven. Jim -was all right in a moment, for the buckskin mare just rose to the -occasion, leapt the rails, and got to cover down the bank beyond; but -Curly's horse was an idiot. At the sight of the gleaming rails, he -stopped dead to show himself off, shied, bucked, pawed the full moon, -fell in heaps, tumbled all over himself, dug a hole in the ground with -his nose, and timed the whole exhibition to get Curly shot. The -gallopers were right on to him before he chose to proceed, with flanks -spurred bloody, down the further bank. - -Jim circled back to the rescue. "Hurt?" he called. - -Curly lay all of a heap on the saddle. "Shoot!" he howled, and flashed -on across the plain. - -Jim got the gallopers stark against the sky at point-blank range, and -just whirled in for battle, piling the track with dead and dying horses, -blocking the passage complete. Then he streaked away to see if Curly had -gone dead on Jones' back. - -Five minutes after that, Deputy-Marshal Pedersen and I came blundering -into the wreckage. He jumped through somehow, leading eighteen men, but -I stopped to help a hurt man, and used his rifle to splint his broken -leg. The fool gallopers were mostly wrung out, and gone home, or left -afoot by Jim. The good stayers were on ahead, but weary maybe, it being -late for pleasuring. So I proceeded to have an attack of robbers all to -myself, with the wounded man's revolver and my own, shooting -promiscuous. Sure enough, half a dozen of them bold pursuers came -circling back to find out what was wrong. - -When I had turned back with my idiots for home, a ripple spread along -the grass, an air from the south, then a lifting wind, full strong, -steady as ice aflow, cold as the wings of Death. Jim fought up wind, -battling at full gallop until he overtook the little partner, then -ranged abreast and steadied knee to knee, nursing his mare at a trot. -The moon slid down flame-red behind the hills, the wind blew a gale, the -night went black, the sky a sheet of stars. - -Jim had quit being tired, for his body was all gone numb and dead, so he -felt nothing except the throb of hoofs astern. Then he heard a popping -of guns faint in the rear, and on that saw flashes of signal firing away -on the right, besides other gun-flames back below Mule Pass. He held his -teeth from chattering to speak. - -"Curly, old chap, they've wired for a posse up from Naco, and the City -Marshal's men are coming down from Bisley. They're closing in on three -sides, and we can't escape." - -Curly said nothing. - -"Say, Curly, you're not hurt?" - -"Mosquito bite," said Curly; "look a-here, Jim. If anything goes wrong, -you'll find the captain at La Soledad to-morrow." - -"What captain?" - -"My father. I made him swear he'd wait. How's yo' buckskin?" - -"Flagging." - -"She'll live through all right. Don't you talk any mo'." - -"You're losing hope?" - -"There's allus hope," said Curly, "but them stars seem nearer to -we-all." - -They were riding through greasewood bushes and long grass, whilst here -and there stood scattered trees of mesquite. That made bad going for -horses, but, when they swung aside for better ground, they nearly -blundered into an arroyo. - -Only the dawn grey saved my boys from breaking both their necks in that -deep gap, but now they had got to lose the sheltering darkness, their -horses were mighty near finished, and three big outfits of riders were -closing down all round them. Jim looked up the sky to see if there were -miracles a-coming, for nothing less was going to be much use. Then the -Naco people came whirling down on the right, and the black arroyo lay -broad across their hopes, so they swung north to look for a crossing, -and were thrown right out of the hunt. - -Presently soon my youngsters had another big stroke of luck, because the -Bisley crowd missed aim, and had to swing in behind with the men from -Grave City. - -"Jim," says Curly, "has they closed in yet?" - -"Our wind is covering all three outfits now." - -Then came a yell from behind, for in the dawn the hunters had caught -sight of their meat. - -Now close ahead loomed something white like a ghost, and Jim let out a -screech as it reared up against him sudden. As he shied wide and -spurred, he saw the ghost some better--a limewashed monument, the -boundary mark of old Mexico. - -"Saved!" he yelled. "They can't follow beyond the Line." - -"They cayn't, but they will," says Curly; "fire the grass!" - -Jim grabbed a hair from the buckskin's mane, took matches from his -wallet and bound them into a torch, struck a light to the tip, and held -it in his paws against the roaring wind. Then he made shift to swing -himself down till the long grass brushed his fingers. He dropped his -torch beside a greasewood bush, and cantered on with Curly knee to knee. -That flicker in the long grass grew to a blazing star, spread with the -flaws of the wind, swayed its small tongues to lick new clumps and pass -the word to others just beyond. The bush blazed up with a roar as only -greasewood can, and flung its burning sticks upon the storm, so that the -fire spread swift as a man could run over acres of greasewood. To the -east was mesquite bush, which burns like gun-cotton in a gale of wind. -But now the draught of the fire had made that gale a scarlet hurricane -with the stride of a running horse, which flushed the flying cloud wrack -overhead, and made red day along the mountain flanks. - -I reckon that if I'd happened with that outfit of hunters, I should have -known enough to bear east and circle round the blaze without loss of -time; but the leaders saw the burning mesquite grove, and tried to -swing west of trouble. There the arroyo barred them, and before they won -to the other horn of the fire their horses had gone loco, refusing to -face the heat. Anyways, they stampeded with their riders, and I reckon -those warriors never stopped to look back until they had thrown -themselves safe beyond the railroad. If they had come out for a -man-hunt, they got that liberal and profuse beyond their wildest -dreams. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE FRONTIER GUARDS - - -Well up to windward of the range fire, that fool horse Jones came to a -finish sudden all a-straddle, swaying, nose down, and blood a-dripping. -So far Curly had just stayed in the saddle from force of habit, but when -the usual motion stopped between his knees he surely forgot to be alive -any more, and dropped like a shot bird to grass. As for Jim, he was too -stiff to dismount, but the buckskin mare lay down with him complete; so -he rolled from the saddle, and managed to stagger around. He uncinched -Jones' saddle, eased his mouth of the bit, loosed the mare's girth as -she lay, then knelt by Curly feeling him over for wounds. He didn't know -until then that Curly had a bullet in the right arm; but all that side -was in a mess of dry blood, and when he cut away the coat it began to -spurt. He plugged up the hole, made a bandage with his handkerchief, -twisted it up with a stick until the blood quit coming, then rolled -himself down, dead asleep beside his partner. - -The big gale roared overhead; a haze of flying dust; the country to the -north was a flaming volcano; the sky was a whirl of clouds, all painted -purple and crimson with the daybreak; but my kids and their horses cared -nothing more at all for storm or fire. Then the skyline along the east -began to glow white-hot, burned by the lift of the sun; and stark black -against that rode a bunch of horsemen. They were coming from La Morita -Custom House to find out what sort of felons had set the range on fire. -They were Mexican Frontier Guards. - -Their lieutenant told me afterwards that when they saw the played-out -horses and those two poor kids who lay between them, they thought the -whole outfit must be dead. They reckoned up Jim for one of their -countrymen, and surely did everything in their power to act merciful. - -Firing the range comes pretty near being a serious thing, causing -inconvenience to cattle, apt to annoy settlers by burning their homes -and cooking their wives and families. Naturally that sort of play is -discouraged, and the Frontier Guards was only acting up to their lights -in arresting my youngsters. Still, they didn't act haughty and -oppressive, but sent a rider off to fetch their waggon for the -prisoners, and meanwhile made camp and boiled them a drink of coffee. - -The _teniente_ woke them up, gave them their coffee and told them their -sins, while the rest of the greasers, talking all at once, explained -what their officer meant. As to Jim and Curly, they were interested in -that coffee a whole lot, and ready to excuse the Frontier Guards; but -the worries and troubles of a pack of greasers only made them tired; so -they told them not to fuss, and slept through the rest of the sermon. -When they woke up again, they found themselves in prison. - -That calaboose at La Morita is built of the usual adobe, sun-dried -brick, with a ceiling of cactus sticks laid on beams to carry a couple -of feet of solid earth. A 'dobe house is the next thing to comfort in a -climate like ours, where the sun will scorch a man's hide worse than -boiling water. The Frontier Guards had laid clean hay on the dirt floor, -and hung an _olla_ of water to cool in the draught, but when my boys -woke up they were sure puzzled, for the night had fallen, the moon was -not yet stirring, and the place was surely dark as a wolf's mouth. Stiff -and sore from hard riding, Jim got up to grope in the darkness, ravaging -around in search of grub. He found hay and water, but nothing else, so -thought he must have been changed into a horse, and set up a howl for -corn. Then he attracted Curly's notice by tumbling over his bed. - -"How many laigs have yo' got?" says Curly, "'cause that's ample. Catch -me some water." - -Jim reached down the hanging jar, and Curly drank. "I been waiting hours -for that," says he; "now sluice my arm." - -Jim threw cool water on the wound. "Is it very bad?" he asked. - -"It's sure attracting my attention, Jim." - -"Can I do anything?" - -"Yes, next time you're falling around don't use my laigs--they're -private. Whar is this place?" - -Jim looked up at a window-gap, high in the 'dobe wall, and saw the -starlight checkered with iron bars; then listening, he heard a muttering -of Spanish talk, and noticed the door of the cell lined out with a -glimmer from the guardroom. - -"It smells bad, like a trap," said Curly. - -"I wonder," says Jim, "what time they feed the animals? I'm starving." - -"My two sides," says Curly, "is rubbing together, and I'm sure -sorrowful. We done got captured somehow." - -"I remember now. They gave us coffee. They must have been Frontier -Guards--so this is La Morita." - -"Why did they gather us in? We didn't spoil any greasers." - -"No, but we fired the grass." - -"It was not their grass--we set fire to Arizona." - -"I don't think they mind," says Jim, "whose grass we burned. They've got -us, and they won't worry about the details. You see, they've got to make -a play at being useful, old chap, or else their Government would get -tired and forget to send their wages." - -"What will they do to us?" - -"Keep us three days to cool, then find us guilty, and send us down to -Fronteras." - -"I remember," says Curly, "when I was riding that year for Holy Cross I -saw----" - -"The little wayside crosses?" - -"Yes, everywhere on the Mexican side of the line--the little wooden -grave signs by the trail." - -Curly and Jim sat there in the dark, and thought of the wooden crosses. -They understood, but I believe it's up against me to explain for folks -who don't know that country. You see, there used to be only two -industries in old Mexico, silver mining and stealing, but most of the -people made a living by robbing each other. Then the great President -Diaz came along, who had been a robber himself. He called up all the -robbers he'd known in the way of business, and hired them as a sort of -Mounted Rangers and Frontier Guards to wipe out the rest of the thieves. -That made the whole Republic peaceful, but when there were no more -robbers to shoot, the Rangers and Guards began to feel monotonous, the -country being plumb depleted of game. - -Well, thanks to Diaz, Mexico has gone so tame that life ain't really -worth living, and the Frontier Guards are scared of being disbanded -because they're obsolete. Likewise the Mexican people are so humane -that they don't allow capital punishment, and the Guards feel a heap -discouraged about what few prisoners they catch. They're fearful pleased -if they get a thief who doesn't happen to be their own cousin, most -especially if he's a white man, real game and in season. That's why they -lash him hands and feet to a horse, trot him off into the desert, and -take pot shots at him by way of practice. Afterwards they report him for -'attempted escape.' His relations are allowed to bury him comfortable, -and put up a cross to his memory. That is why the trails along the -Mexican frontier are all lined with neat little crosses. - -"You reckon," says Curly, "that we'll have little crosses?" - -"It's beastly awkward," says Jim, "but we've got to take our medicine." - -"And yet I dunno," says Curly, thoughtful about those crosses; "if we -get spoilt that way, the United States won't be pleased. You see, -there's a reward out for me, and yo're wanted bad, so Uncle Sam will be -asking Mexico, and say, 'Why did you shoot my meat?'" - -The voices in the guardroom had quit muttering, but now a horseman -pulled up at the front door. - -"_Buenas noches hombre!_" - -And somebody answered: "_Buenas tardes seņor!_" - -Then talk began in Spanish. "Can a feed of corn be bought here for the -horse? He arrives from Grave City." - -"What news of the gringoes?" - -"_Muchos._ El Seņor Don Rex has been shot." - -"Don Rex has been murdered?" - -"No, it was a fight. It must be understood that his son, Don -Santiago----" - -"What, El Chico?" - -"Yes, El Chico 'Jim,' had a feud against the very rich Seņor Ryan. He -hired ladrones from the north, the Robbers' Roost Gang it is called, to -murder Seņor Ryan. It seems the ladrones wore masks, and they were led -by a young robber named Curly, for whom great rewards are offered--two -thousand pesos d'oro, dead or alive." - -"What a reward!" - -"Yes, El Chico and this Curly led the robbers, and they attacked Seņor -Ryan in the 'Sepulchre' saloon. El Chico killed Seņor Ryan himself, and -wounded Miguel his son. There are many witnesses, and a warrant is out -against Don Santiago for that murder. I saw the warrant." - -"But you say Don Rex was killed?" - -"He also; many others were killed in the battle. Curly shot Louisiana -and another also. Then these ladrones escaped from the city." - -"But the population!" - -"You judge well, corporal--the population followed. There was riding!" - -"And yet these ladrones escaped?" - -"So, except El Chico and Curly, the two leaders. The posse caught them -near Las Salinas." - -"And got the great reward--two thousand pesos d'oro!" - -"But wait. These two caballeros would not submit, but fought and killed -a lot more citizens; yes, even escaped. They reached the iron-way which -runs down towards Bisley, and there again they fought terribly. Then the -big posse chased them clear through to the boundary-line." - -"They were not caught!" - -"They fired the desert!" - -"Car-r-amba!" - -"Yes, stampeded a hundred riders! You must have seen the fire at dawn -this morning." - -"Todos Santos! That was El Chico Santiago disguised as a _vaquero_?" - -"Yes, and Curly as a farm boy--you saw them?" - -"Man, we've got them here in chains! Two thousand pesos d'oro! _Por -Dios!_ You have made me rich with your news!" - -"In chains, corporal? Then they did not escape after all! They fought -like caballeros, and now they'll be claimed for extradition, taken back, -and hanged! _Hombre_, that's no death for caballeros! How did you ever -take such fighters, corporal?" - -"Oh, just arrested them." - -"But they fought a hundred Americanos!" - -"Yes, yes, but we are Frontier Guards--me and another man; we just -arrested them, that's all. Two thousand pesos!" - -"They fought?" - -"Oh, yes, we had to disable one of them; in fact I myself shot him -through the pistol arm. Then they surrendered, made their bow to force. -Two thousand golden dollars!" - -"Miraculous! Well, seņor corporal, may it be permitted to ask where -forage is sold?" - -"Certainly, step this way. I, Pablo Juarez, rich! Two thousand! Santa -Catalina, thou shalt have candles, a box of candles!" - -The voices faded out, and Jim lay back, wiping the sweat from his face. -"Wheugh"--then he burst out laughing--"the liars," he howled, "the -gentle, earnest liars! Oh, pat me, Curly, for I'm weak--the lop-eared, -spavined, sway-backed, cock-eyed liars!" - -But Curly was shy of Spanish, and wanted the news. "What liars?" - -"Everybody--they're all liars--the whole world--liars! Liars! They -couldn't leave it to facts, which are bad enough, but they've lied, and -sworn to lies and perjured themselves with oaths, the thugs, the dirty -bar-room toughs, selling their souls to that young Ryan--and made a -remnant sale of themselves for witnesses that I murdered an old man!" - -"What, Ryan? It wasn't you who spoiled old Ryan. It was your father in -honest fighting!" - -"Who cares for honesty when there's a millionaire to pay for souls in -cash? They swear that I hired you and all your robbers to have old Ryan -murdered, then did the killing myself, and turned loose your gang to -massacre Ryan's friends--the cowards, the lying cowards!" - -"But them boys with masks was Chalkeye's riders, and he just covered -their faces, Jim, to save them afterwards." - -"And who'll believe that? Here's a millionaire to buy the witnesses, the -lawyers, the judge, the law! The only man who was there and can't be -bribed is that leary old cow-thief Chalkeye, but he's mixed up with us, -and likely enough a prisoner by now. Do you think that a Grave City -court of justice would believe an honest man? No, we're trapped, and -we're sold, and we're going to be butchered now." - -"Well," says Curly in that slow, soft way he had, "I allow it's done you -good to turn yo' wolf loose, and you've shorely howled; it done me good -to hear all the cussing said while I lay restin'. That's relieved me a -lot and made me plumb forgetful of being in pain." - -Jim began talking haughty, and wanted to know if Curly liked the notion -of being hanged. - -"That I shorely do," says Curly very soft. "You see, only a while back -we was going to be taken out sudden and shot--which it was a caution to -yaller snakes only to think of. That didn't make me happy a lil' bit, -but now we got more prospects, a slow trial coming, time to turn around -in, and think out how to escape." - -That sobered Jim, but it made him hostile, too. "Youngster, will nothing -scare you?" he asked; "can't get a whimper out of you even for company's -sake--you're so beastly selfish." - -Curly rolled over, resting his face on his hand. "I was raised that -way," says he very quiet, "goin' to be shot up or hung most of the time. -It's a risky thing bein' alive when you come to think of it, eh? We-all -is mighty or'nary folks in a trifling sort of world, Jim; but I reckon -it's sure nice being heah. We got sweet range hay to lie on, and hopes -of a feed in the mawning; the place is sure quiet, but we cayn't -complain of being dull. As to our lil' worries, I don't fuss about -crossing a river until I done reached the bank." - -"I wish," Jim groaned, "that I'd got half your courage." - -"I've suffered some," says Curly, "and I reckon that what you call -courage is just training. Now you, Jim, you lie down, and think about -something to eat, and presently yo're goin' to drop off asleep, dreaming -of good camps where there's feed and water. If that ain't good I'll -wake you up in the night, so's you'll get two sleeps, which is even -better'n one." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MOSTLY CHALKEYE - - -The loss of my near eye has led to a lot of mistakes on my part, -specially when I mistook the brands on cows and horses, thought they -belonged to me, and adopted the poor lone critters--I've always been -fond of animals, anyway. Again, I argue that a person with two eyes had -ought to see much more truth than I can with only one eye; but I don't -find that folks are liberal in making allowances. They call me hard -names instead. - -Now that was specially the case over the Ryan inquest. I testified that -old man Ryan died a natural death, because it would have been completely -unnatural for Balshannon to miss him at five paces. Moreover, as I saw -things, Jim never fired at all until Ryan was dead, and only began to -shoot when he saw young Michael turning loose for battle. Judge -Sprynkes, Acting Assistant Deputy-Coroner, allowed that I had been a -whole lot present at the fight, and was entitled to my one-eyed point of -view; but then, he remarked to the jury that the witness was well known -to have such a defective vision with regard to cows that the evidence -was tarnished on the point at issue. - -"Judge," says I, "this is a court of justice, and I'd like to see -everybody getting a fair show. Now, as judge, you're sure incorruptible -and righteous." - -"Come to the point," says Sprynkes. - -"But," says I, "if Judge Sprynkes finds that the late Mr. Ryan met his -death in a fair duel with Balshannon--then----" - -"Well?" - -"Then there's a citizen named Mr. Sprynkes who's apt to be reminded by -the Ryan estate that he owes a heap of money!" - -On that we had considerable rough house, until the judge called the -meeting to order. Then he remarked, sort of casual, that he knew a -citizen named Sprynkes who was apt to shoot at sight when he met up with -a certain notorious horse-thief called Chalkeye Davies. - -So my evidence for Jim was set aside, I was pitched out of the court, -and for the next few days had to keep a wary eye on citizen Sprynkes. He -was an awful poor sportsman, and mostly always missed; but once I got a -bullet through my hat. Afterwards Mr. Sprynkes admitted to his friends -that he preferred a restful landscape and a less bracing climate beyond -the range of my guns--so he pulled out for Yuma, and I saw his kind face -no more. - -Now I don't want to say anything unkind about Judge Sprynkes, or his -jury, or his witnesses, in that inquest on Mr. Ryan; but for Jim's sake -it is needful to point out some facts which were remarkable. Of the -people who stayed in the "Sepulchre" saloon to attend the gun-fight, -eight were unable to testify, being dead, three because they had gone to -hospital, two because they were engaged elsewhere at La Morita, and one, -which is me, on account of defective vision. Of the rest, the most part -lit out from Grave City, and totally disappeared. There remained Mr. -Michael, two bar-tenders, and four other citizens, the only people who -gave evidence. These witnesses swore on oath that Jim came to the -gun-fight attended by Curly McCalmont and ten masked robbers. They also -swore on oath that Jim fired the first shot, killing Mr. Ryan. - -The Court returned a verdict that George Ryan came to his death at the -hands of James du Chesnay, and recommended his arrest upon the charge of -deliberate wilful murder. - -I am not complaining. The Court represented the majesty of the people, -and that august flag, Old Glory, waving above us. It was a right enough -Court, even if justice had strayed out and got itself lost for a while. -I make no complaint, because I reckon that a still mightier Court than -ours is sitting up above the starry sky to watch over fatherless kids -who don't get a fair show on earth, to save them as gets desolate and -oppressed, to vindicate justice upon low-lived swabs, liars, and -cowards. - -I said nothing, but just stayed good and acted responsible, being in a -minority of one against the entire city. The only time I ventured on any -remarks was when I happened accidentally to meet up with Mr. Michael. -He, the Mayor, the City Marshal, and a few friends were taking a drink -together at the hotel. - -"Good morning, Ryan," says I, but I kept my voice all smooth for fear of -rucking up my temper to no advantage. - -"Good morning, sir," says Ryan. - -"I come to congratulate you," says I, "on the hearty liberal way you've -been acting." - -"I thank you, Mr. Davies," says he, sort of ironic. - -"Don't mention it," says I, "for I ain't done no kindness to you, and I -don't aim for cash or thanks in what I say." - -He reached for his gun, which was hazardous and apt to get fatal, only -the City Marshal grabbed him before I had to fire. - -"Let me be," says Ryan; "this man insults me!" - -"No," says I, "that would be impossible. I only congratulate you on the -whole-hearted generous way you assisted a destitute judge, and them poor -hungry witnesses." - -"Easy, my friend," says the Marshal, "I'm 'most deaf, but if I hear any -contempts of court----" - -"If you're feeling any contempt of court, Mr. City Marshal, you shares -my emotions. And you, gentlemen," I turned on the crowd, "if you feel -any shame for the city and for any of the present company, I can only -say I share that shame most bitter." - -The air was getting sultry, with just a faint flicker of guns. "If any -of you gentlemen," says I, "is feeling unwell for pills, just let him -step outside with me, and I'll prescribe. If not, excuse me, for I smell -something dead in this company, and I'm aiming to refresh my nose in the -open." I paced back, step by step, through the door. "My address," says -I, "if I live, will be Las Salinas, and there you'll find a man who -cayn't see to tell the truth, but can see a whole lot to shoot. -Gentlemen, _adios_!" - -So I got my horse, swung to the saddle, and walked him backwards until I -was out of range, but nobody offered himself up to serve for my target. - -I reckon that the funeral ceremonies in honour of the late Mr. Ryan and -friends made an event in the annals of Grave City. The caskets and -wreaths, the hearses and carriages, the band and procession, made the -people feel uplifted with solemn pride and haughty to strangers for a -full month afterwards. As the Weekly Obituary pointed out in large type, -the occasion was great, and a city which had flourished for twenty-two -prosperous years was able to give points to mere mushroom towns like -Bisley, Benson, and Lordsburgh. The newspapers in those three rival -burghs made light of the affair in a way which displayed mean envy and a -nasty, carping spirit. - -As for me, I had got myself disliked a whole lot, so I felt it would be -most decent not to attend the exercises. I had a feeling that if called -upon to reply to any shooting, I might disturb the harmony which should -always attend a scene of public grief. Besides that, it fell to me to -arrange the burial of my old patrone, which it was difficult, the -preachers, coffins, hearses, carriages, and all the funeral fixtures -being engaged that day, and likewise also the graveyard. I had to go -without. Moreover, the cowboys were mostly away at work on the round-up, -so I only caught eight of my tribe to help me. We laid our friend on a -blanket, then four of us gripped the corners up to the horns of our -saddles and rode slow, the other boys coming behind until we got to the -place where we had dug the grave. There was only one man of us all well -educated, and that was Monte, who had been raised for a preacher before -he broke loose to punch cows. Monte was shot in the face, weak, and -feverish, so I had to feed him whiskey before he felt proud enough for -his job. He read the service, the rest of us standing round, and when he -was through we fired a volley before we filled the grave and piled rocks -to keep off wild animals. That was a proper stockman's funeral, away -out on a hilltop in the desert, and I reckon the Great Father in heaven -knew we had done our best in a brave man's honour. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -ARRANGING FOR MORE TROUBLE - - -See what the geography-book says about Arizona--the same size as -England? Shucks! There's homely ignorance from an office duck who dreams -he can use a tape-measure to size up a desert. In England, if you wander -round after dark, you're apt to fall off and get wet in the ocean. But -you can sure stray off the edge of Arizona without the least chance of a -wet, because the desert just rolls on more continuous than ever, till -you're due to die of thirst. There's a practical difference in size, -which your book theorist wouldn't be apt to survive. - -Again, by the books we're a community of sixty thousand pink and white -citizens, all purely yearning for right and justice. By the facts, we're -really split up into two herds--the town men, who use the law, and the -range men, who naturally prefer a six-gun. - -I aim politely to say the best I can for the town men. You see, if a -gentleman feels that he's just got to waltz in and rob the graves of his -own parents, one may not understand his symptoms, but one has to try and -think of him charitable. Our town men has mostly been found out acting -self-indulgent, and been chased around by the police. That's why they -flocked to Arizona, which is convenient at the Gates of Hades, with the -Breath of Flame by way of excuse for a climate. There's a sort of -comfortable, smell-your-future-home feeling about old Arizona which -attracts such ducks. Anywhere else they would get their necks stretched, -but in Arizona they can elect judges and police out of their own tribe. -Then if they happen to indulge in a little bigamy, or thieving, or -shooting, the lawyers get them off. They love the law which proves them -up innocent, so you may class them all as law-abiding citizens. - -Now as to us plainsmen. The bad side of us is plumb apparent to the -naked eye, and if there's a good side it's known to our friends, not -advertised to strangers. We ain't claiming to be law-abiding citizens -when we know the judge for a sure-thing politician, the lawyers for -runaway gaol-birds, and the jury all for sale at the rate of a dollar a -thief. We're lawless, sure enough, until we see the law dealt out by -honest men. - -Are you fed up with one-eyed sermons from a cow-thief? Well, suppose we -apply the facts. - -Here was two boys of our tribe bogged down to their withers in trouble. -The town men howled for their blood, young Ryan offered plenty wealth -for their raw scalps, the law claimed them for meat--and every plainsman -on the range got right up on his hind legs for war. To our way of -thinking robbery and killing are bad medicine, but innocent, holy joys -compared with Arizona law. So naturally by twos and threes the punchers -quit work on the round-up to come and smell at old Grave City and find -out why she'd got a swollen head. They hung around saloons, projecting -to see if something had gone wrong with the local breed of whisky; they -gathered and made war-talk in the street; they came around me, wanting -to know whether or not to break out and eat that town. - -"Boys," says I, "if you-all stalks round with mean eyes and dangerous -smiles, these here citizens is going to hole up in their cyclone cellars -and send for the army. We don't want the army messing around our game. -Just you whirl in now and play signs of peace, and make good medicine. -Lay low, give yo' ponies a strong feed--and wait for the night." - -"Chalkeye," says one of them, "is this to be war?" - -"If it was war," I told him, "I'd first send you home to yo' mother. No, -kid, this is going to be smooth peace, but we're going to knock Grave -City cold with astonishment. Get plenty ammunition, feed yo' horse, and -wait my gathering howl for a signal." - -It was high noon when Captain McCalmont came straying down into Main -Street on a "painted" horse. At Ryan's livery stable he allowed he was -an unworthy minister, wanting water and feed for the piebald pony. At -the Delmonico pie foundry he let out that he craved for sausages, mashed -potatoes, and green tea. Then he had a basin of bread-and-milk, while he -told the dish-slinger a few solemn truths. Apple-pie, says he, was a -delusion; eating tobacco was a snare; intoxicating drink was only vanity -on the lips, but raging wild-cats to the inward parts. The proper -doctrine, says he, is to eschew all evil, but the wicked man leaves out -that saving syllable _es_, and chews evil all the time. - -Then he allowed that a toothpick would do him no harm, paid for his -meal, and strayed out across the street to where I stood dealing peace -among the cowboys. - -"Little sinners," says he, "I perceive that you have fallen into evil -company. This Chalkeye man is a pernicious influence, which would -corrupt the morals of a grizzly bear. Flee from this Chalkeye person." - -They wanted to take him into the nearest saloon and enjoy him for the -rest of the day. - -"Kin you dance?" says one of the boys, aiming a gun at his toes. "Whirl -right in and dance!" - -McCalmont walked right at him, eye to eye, and that same cowboy went as -white as death. - -"Shall I abate you," says the preacher, "in the midst of yo' sins? You -done wrong--you done ate tobacco and chocolate candy mixed, then poured -on hot cawfee, rye whisky, and an ice-cream soda; and now yo're white as -a corpse with mixed sins. Go take a pill, my son, and repent before -yo're sick." - -The boys watched that preacher smiling, and went tame as kittens. The -tone of his voice just froze them up, his smile scraped their young -bones, his eyes looked death. - -"Come, Chalkeye," says he, and led me off into the "Spur" saloon. There -he threw a glance to Cranky Joe, the bar-keep, and put his finger on -Mutiny Robertson, a smuggler who sat playing poker. Cranky put someone -in charge of the bar, Mutiny passed his game to a friend of his, and -both of them followed meek as sheep, while the preacher led on into the -backyard. From there we worked round the back street to Ryan's stable, -McCalmont keeping up his baby-talk for the sake of passing strangers. - -"Ah," says he, "my young friends, these deleterious pleasures change -peaceful stomachs into seats of war; but the sausage soothes, the milk -assuages, the pie persuades, and b'ar sign is sure good to fill up -corners. Beware of vanities, and when we get to the stable-yard let -Mutiny here stand guard in case I'm attacked, while I expound the -blessedness of simple things. Well, here we are--you Mutiny, fall back, -you lop-eared mongrel; I'm dying for a chew of 'baccy, and I'd give my -off lung for a cocktail." - -Mutiny stood guard, Cranky hustled off to get liquor. - -"I got a line of retreat from here," says Captain McCalmont, "and a -saddled hawss within reach. No, not that painted plug, but a sure -crackerjack, which can burn the trail if I'm chased. How's things, you -Chalkeye?" - -"Clouding for storm," says I; "the air's a-crackling." - -"Why for?" - -I told him about his son, holed up in gaol with Jim at La Morita. - -"I been projecting around thar last night"--the Captain was eating my -plug tobacco like bread. "Was it you sent that doctor to Curly's wound?" - -"Sure thing, sir. Why?" - -He grabbed my paw. "You're white all through," says he; "that kid is all -I care for in this world." - -"Can they escape?" - -"I dropped a crowbar through the window-hole." - -"The guards will be full curious when they hear the crowbar thumping." - -"That's what's the matter. I sent some Holy Crawss greasers to feed them -liquor, games, and music--'specially music." - -"Will the Frontier Guards miss the big blood money for the sake of a -flirt at skin games?" - -"I reckon they'll watch, and the crowbar's going to be heard. So I made -a run to see you. Here comes Cranky Joe." - -"You trust him?" - -"The sight of him makes my fur crawl." - -"Here, Captain," says Cranky, offering the cocktail; but the outlaw -bored him through with a cool eye. - -"My name," says he, "is the Reverend Perkins, and don't you forget. Now -you'll send Mutiny here, and you'll stand on guard yourself. If I get -captured, a friend of mine is to send your present name and address to -the penitentiary, where you're wanted most--so here's to your freedom." -He drank, and we watched the man sneak off. "I turned him out of my -gang," said the robber, "for being dishonest." - -Mutiny strolled in and shook hands. "Old friend," says he, "what can we -do to help?" - -"Watch Joe, and shoot him up quick if he tries to pass that gate." - -So Mutiny pulled his gun. "How's all the boys?" he asked. - -"You're honing to come back to being a robber?" - -"Cayn't," Mutiny groaned, "I've sure repented and turned smuggler now. -Besides, I'm due to get married, so I'm dead tame and gentle, boss. -What brought you south?" - -"You may inquire, seh." - -"Ain't you trusting me?" - -"Well, Mutiny, since you want to know, I came down to hold up a train." - -"Big plunder?" - -"I expaict. It was a carload of birds' teeth, cat feathers, and frawgs' -tails; but there's too many inquiry agents around, so I missed the -train." - -Mutiny had to laugh, but then he sighed. "If anything goes wrong with my -girl," says he, "I'll come scratch on yo' door." - -"Wall"--the outlaw looked mighty serious--"if she happens to get drowned -in the desert--perhaps we'll see you come. Now let's to business. Them -kids at La Morita has to be collected, I reckon." - -"Why come to we-all?" says Mutiny,--"ain't the gang handy at rescues?" - -"My wolves would jump at the chance; I choked them off." - -"For how?" - -"Bekase"--the Captain turned his haunted eyes on me--"I don't want them -po' youngsters mixed in with thieves." - -"You wanted me mixed again," says Mutiny through his teeth. - -"Sonny"--the outlaw laid his hand on Mutiny's shoulder--"you been a bad -aig same as me, and we'd be hard to spoil. But these aigs at La Morita -is new-laid, fresh aigs, so I wan' them to keep." - -"You're right, boss." - -"Mutiny, I sent you away for yo' good, 'ecause that girl may pull you up -if anything can on airth. As for me, wall, I don't know as I care what -becomes of me. I tried to turn good one't--tried mortal hard to run -straight. I envy every honest man I see. I'm like a crawling snake, -ambitious for bird wings to fly with; but still I'm no more than snake." - -"The kids have a chance all right," says Mutiny. - -"They have. A year ago I couldn't have drove my Curly away from the -gang, but now he's paired with that du Chesnay youngster. Them colts -won't care for the herd if they can run together, so I've got Curly -weaned from following me to--to damnation." - -"Mutiny," says I, "will you help me to gather in these boys?" - -"I shorely will," says Mutiny; "but hadn't we ought to wait until -they're moved up this way for trial?" - -"Wall," says the outlaw, "if I kin get to fight with a small man, I -don't yearn for anything larger. Whirl in on La Morita, and you're -fighting Mexico; wait for a move, and you're up against the hull United -States. I'd rather have a lick at lil' ole Mexico." - -I told him that I had a town full of cowboys hard to hold. - -"That kind won't keep," says Mutiny; "what's yo' plan?" - -"I aimed," says I, "to steal young Ryan, and throw him into La Morita by -way of consolation for them poor Frontier Guards when they miss their -plunder." - -"Now don't you touch my meat," says Captain McCalmont; "I have to feed -my little small lambs on him. Now, Misteh Davies." - -"Answers to the name of Chalkeye mostly." - -"Wall, Chalkeye, this is the second time we meet," he bored into me with -his eyes; "I understand that Balshannon's will makes you some sort of -guardian of his colt." - -"I reckon he needs a friend." - -"Will you be a friend to my son?" - -"Not more than I been already." - -"Mutiny," says he, "you witness that I, Captain McCalmont, thief, and -general manager of the Robbers' Roost gang of outlaws, appoints this -Chalkeye Davies guardian of Curly." - -"I witnesses." - -"Moreover, I aim to corrupt this Chalkeye by handing him stolen money." -He passed me a heavy roll of notes worth fifty thousand dollars, which -is ten thousand pounds by English reckoning. "My friend," he said, "take -these two kids away out of this country--break them dead gentle, keep -them clean, make them forget." He gave me a letter. "Read this when -you're alone." - -"You trust me?" I asked. - -"You trust yo'self?" - -"Mutiny," says I, "you'll help?" - -"Poor Mutiny," said the robber, "might help himself." - -"On the dead thieving," says Mutiny, "that's so!" Then he grinned at me. -"Look a-here, Chalkeye, this means that yo' pull out and hit the long -trail. Now I want a home for my girl. How much will yo' take for yo' -ranche?" - -"I'll see you later, Mutiny, and talk; and now shake hands, McCalmont. -To-night I'll be on hand like a sore thumb, at La Morita." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE REAL CURLY - - -Throwing back along my trail, I notice that I've mentioned a whole lot -of points about Curly which made him unusual, different from other boys. -Remember how he balked and shied at Holy Cross until we allowed him to -hole up in a den of his own. He was sure wild and scary of railroads, -towns, or a strange house. Except with his own folks, the Balshannon -outfit, and me, he was dumb as a bear, and showed wild-eyed fright when -strangers spoke to him. The meanest horses went tame at a word from him; -no dog ever barked at him except with tail signals of joy; cats followed -him around, and any animal who was hurt or in trouble would run to Curly -for help. Even the deer knew his calls, and would come quite near while -he spoke to them in that low soft voice of his. That voice never broke -gruff with manhood, but just stayed sweet, like the sound of running -water. - -He had a strong face, stern as our desert country, tanned, beautiful no -end, so that one caught one's breath at the very sight of him. His smile -turned me weak; his voice went through me, and I'm a sure hard case. -Everybody just had to love that Curly--a born rider, a wonderful scout, -a dead shot, a dangerous fighter, who bore pain like an Indian, and had -heaps more sense and courage than Jim his partner. - -Why do I say all this? Well, from the first, I saw that Curly youngster -was undersized and weak, with a narrow chest and wide hips more like a -girl than a boy. A right proper man is strong, rough, hardy; he ought to -have a temper and be master, ready to work and fight for his women folk. -That Curly broke down and sobbed like a girl after the gun-fight, and in -a hundred soft ways was not a proper man. There were often times when I -wanted to turn in and lam his head. Then I didn't, but somehow knew that -Nature had played some scurvy trick on that well-meaning youngster. - -Well, Jim was younger than me, so there's some excuse for him. He was -rough on Curly--hostile and contemptuous when the little partner acted -feminine. He owned up afterwards he'd behaved like a brute to that poor -wounded, helpless critter, loving him all the while, but acting coarse; -that humbled Curly, who weakened under his tongue lash, cried at times, -and lay for hours sucking the wound on his arm, dumb like a dying -animal. Both youngsters were surely miserable on the second and third -days they lay together in prison. It was on the second morning that I -sent down a doctor from Bisley to fix up Curly's wound. - -Late that evening, towards midnight, a crowbar dropped down through the -window-gap in the wall, and Jim began to labour out a hole for their -escape. He dug out bricks of 'dobe one by one, and while he worked he -made poor Curly sing hour after hour, to hide up the sound of the -crowbar. Shall I tell you one of the songs? It's a cowboy tune for -smoothing the feelings of driven cattle while they bed themselves down -for night. - - "Soh, Bossie, soh! - The water's handy neah, - The grass is plenty heah, - An' all the stars a-sparkle - Bekase we drive no mo'-- - We drive no mo'! - - The long trail ends to-day, - The long trail ends to-day, - The punchers go to play, - And all you weary cattle - May sleep in peace for sure-- - Sleep, sleep fo' sure. - - The moon cayn't bite you heah, - Nor punchers fright you heah, - And you-all will be beef befo' - We need you any mo'-- - We need you mo'!" - -When morning broke Jim piled hay on the burrow he'd made in the foot of -the wall, and lay on top, dead weary to get some sleep. At ten o'clock -the doctor from Bisley found Curly still singing, light-headed, talking -nonsense. The patient said he was a bear, so the doctor gave sleep -medicine, and sat beside him. At noon he fed the boys their dinner and -went away, but they didn't wake again until supper-time, when the man on -guard came in. - -"What's for supper?" says Curly. - -"_Tortillas_, _frijoles_, coffee--same as usual." - -"Eat it," says Curly, "'cause I'm only a bear holed up for winter. We -don't eat in winter anyways." - -"Bears have their coffee," says Jim. - -"Oh yes, of course," and Curly fed coffee to the winter bear. That -cleared his head, and he sat up watching Jim at work on the little round -dishes. The food was _frijoles_, the same being beans, and _tortillas_, -which is a thin corn-cake, pretty much the same as brown fly-papers, -warm and damp, but sort of uninteresting to taste. The coffee was in a -brown earthen pot, fresh from the fire, and mighty encouraging. Those -three things make the proper feed for Mexicans, the same being simple, -uninstructed people, knowing no better. When they feast they make a stew -of red pepper, and take a little meat with it; but that dish is a -luxury, and hot enough to burn a hole through a brick. - -When Jim had eaten everything in sight he started cigarettes, listening -to a banjo in the guardroom, a growing hum of talk, and the click of -cups, for some Holy Cross riders were there with a jar of cactus spirit, -a deck of cards, and other inducements sent in by Captain McCalmont. Jim -heard them talking war because they'd never been paid off at Holy Cross, -and had six months' wages coming. They allowed that el Chico their young -patrone ought to hang, and the guards agreed that such was probable. -To-morrow the prisoners were going to be collected by the United States -authorities for trial. Jim looked at his partner for comfort, but saw -big tears rolling down Curly's face. - -"You ought to be ashamed of that," says he. - -"It cayn't be helped." Curly swept his arm across his face. "You Jim, we -got to part to-night." - -"You wild ass of the desert! What's the matter now?" - -"You're goin' through that hole to find yo' liberty, but I stay here." - -"Stay, and be hanged to you." - -"I got to. How should I be with this wound out there on the range?" - -"I'll see to that, youngster. It's only a little way to La Soledad, and -I'll get you through. It may hurt, but it's not so bad as being hanged." - -"I cayn't travel. We're due to be caught and killed. You go alone, -Jim." - -"We go together and live, or we stay together and die. Take your choice, -Curly." - -"Oh, I cayn't bear it--you don't understand!" - -"I understand you're a little coward!" - -"That's no dream." - -"You own to being a coward?" - -"Yes. All these years I've tried to play the game, to be a boy, to live -a boy's life, but now--I'd rather die, and get it finished." - -"Why?" - -"I've been off my haid last night and all to-day. This pain has -stampeded me, and I'm goin' crazy. To-night the pain is worse. I'll be -making fool talk, giving myself away, and you'll find me out. It's -better to own up than to be found out." - -"To own up what?" - -"Oh, don't be hard on me, Jim! I tried so hard! I was born for a boy, I -had to be a boy. Don't you see, girls was plumb impossible in a gang of -robbers!" - -"Have you gone mad?" - -"Oh, you cayn't understand, and it's so hard to say." Curly lay face -downwards, hiding a shamed face. "My mother must have made a mistake--I -wasn't bawn for a boy." - -"Good gracious!" - -"I had to be raised for a boy--it had to be done. What else was possible -at the Robbers' Roost?" - -"And you're not a boy!" - -"God help me, I'm only a girl." - -"You, a girl?" - -"Oh, don't be hard on me--it ain't my fault! I tried so hard to be a -man--but I'm crazy with pain--and I wisht I was daid!" - -"But I can't believe--it can't be true. Why, I've seen you ride--the -first horseman in Arizona, scout, cowboy, desperado, wanted for robbery -and murder--you a girl!" - -"Have pity! Don't! Don't talk like that--I'm not so bad as you think--I -never robbed--I never----" - -"You killed men to save my life. Oh, Curly, I'm so sorry I talked like -that--I take it all back. I must have been _loco_ to call you a -coward--I wish I'd half your courage! I never knew a woman could be -brave; my mother wasn't, and all the girls I've known--they weren't like -you. Oh, the things you've seen me do, the things I've said--treating -you no better than a boy. Can you ever forgive the way I treated you?" - -One little hand stole out and touched him: "Stop--talk no more." - -A _vaquero_ was singing for all he was worth in the guardroom, to the -strum of a guitar, while hands clapped out the time-- - - "I could not be so well content, - So sure of thee, - Seņorita, - Lolita; - But well I know thou must relent - And come to me, - Lolita!" - -Jim set to work to finish his hole in the wall, prying out the 'dobe -bricks with his crowbar, and he sure wrought furious, timing his strokes -to the clapping hands, the guitar, and the swinging chorus-- - - "The caballeros throng to see - Thy laughing face, - Seņorita, - Lolita; - But well I know thy heart's for me, - Thy charm, thy grace, - Lolita! - - "I ride the range for thy dear sake, - To earn thee gold, - Seņorita, - Lolita; - And steal the gringo's cows to make - A ranche to hold - Lolita!" - -The cactus liquor was getting in its work, the guardroom crowded up all -it would hold of soldiers, _vaqueros_, customs men, travellers; then -there was dancing, singing, gambling, squabbling, all the row which -belongs to a general drunk. Curly was fretted up to high fever, riding -herd on a bunch of dream cows, and Jim was pouring in his strength on -the 'dobe bricks. At two in the morning the Frontier Guards began to -make war talk, wanting to turn the prisoners loose, with a prize for -the soldier who got first kill with a gun. On that the Holy Cross -_vaqueros_ proposed to rescue their young patrone, and wipe out the -Frontier Guards. There was considerable rough house with knife and gun, -until the guards subdued the _vaqueros_, jumped on their heads, and -herded them into No. 2 cell as prisoners of war. The _vaqueros_ were -just moaning for blood, the Guards turned loose to celebrate their -victory with more drinks, and while the row was enough to drown -artillery, Jim's crowbar drove a brick which fell outside the wall. Now -he had only to pry 'dobes loose one by one until the hole was big enough -to let out prisoners. Sometimes he had to quit and hold his breath while -the sentry came reeling past along his beat. Once he had to play dead, -because a drunken sergeant rolled into the cell to give him a drink of -_meseal_. The sergeant called him brother, hugged him, kissed him, -cried, and went away. At three o'clock Jim crawled out through the hole -with his crowbar, lay for the sentry, jumped up behind, clubbed him, and -got the rifle. Then he dragged Mr. Sentry into the cell, wrapped him in -Curly's blanket, and made up a dummy to look like himself in case the -sergeant of the guard should remember to call again. - -"Curly," he shook his partner out of sleep. "Curly, the spring time is -coming--it's time for little bears to come out of hole." - -"Yo' gawn all foolish," says Curly, "callin' me a bear. I done forget -who I am, but I'm too sure sick to be a bear." - -"Let's play bear," says Jim, mighty shy; "I'll bet you I'm first through -this hole!" - -The guardroom had gone quiet, the men there being just sober enough not -to fall off the floor, but the sergeant was droning with the guitar, -sobbing out the tail end of the old Lolita song-- - - "I ride the range for thy dear sake, - To win thee gold, - S'rita, - Lolita, - To steal the gringo's cow-ow-ow----" - -Curly was first out through the hole, chasing dream bears. "The wind's -in the west," she said, looking at the big stars above. - -"Crawl up the wind," Jim whispered. "We want our horses; where are -they?" - -Curly sat up snuffing at the wind, then pointed. "The hawss smell's -thar," she said, "but there's a scent of pony-soldiers too--many -soldiers." - -Jim trailed over cat-foot to the stable and looked in through the door. -A lantern hung in the place, and some of the Frontier Guards sat round a -box on the hay gambling earnest. If he went off to a distance, and -handed out a few shots to draw the guard away searching, he reckoned -there might be time to sneak round and steal a horse before they began -to stray back. But then there was Curly all delirious with fever, and -whimpering small wolf calls, so that every dog in the place had started -to bark. The wolf calls had to be stopped, and a new dream started which -would keep the little partner good and silent. That is why Jim took a -handful of dust which he said was salt. - -"Come along, Curly," he whispered, "we're going to stalk the buffalo; to -still hunt the buffalo; we must be fearfully quiet, or we'll never put -the salt on their tails. Don't you see?" - -"But the buffalo's all gawn extinct!" - -"Oh, that's all right; it's not their fault, poor things. Come on, and -we'll salt their tails." - -"I'm sort of tired," says Curly right out loud, and Jim went cold with -fright. He could hear the soldiers squabbling over their game not fifty -feet away, then the sound of somebody's footsteps rambling over from the -guard-house. A soldier staggered drunk within two yards of him, and -rolled in at the stable door. - -"Come on, old chap," Jim whispered; "I'm your horse, so climb on my -back, and we'll travel." - -So he put the little partner on his back, and staggered away into the -desert. He had one cartridge in the gun, no water, only the stars to -guide him, and at sunrise the Frontier Guards would see his tracks. -There was no hope. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE WHITE STAR - - -As soon as Captain McCalmont was clear of the city I meandered in a -casual way around the saloons, taking a drink here, a cigar there, -passing the word for a meeting of cowboys only. They were to ride out by -twos and threes for home in the usual way, but the time for the meeting -was sunset, and the place a slope of hillside beyond Balshannon's grave. -There we gathered to the number of thirty head, and Mutiny rode into the -bunch to cut out any strangers who might have strayed with the herd. -There being no strays, I spoke-- - -"Boys, you-all knows who was buried here on the hilltop. He was my -friend, and a sure friend of all range men." Some of the boys uncovered, -one called-- - -"Spit it out, ole Chalkeye! When you starts up yo' church, rent me a -stall!" - -"I'll hire yo' ruddy scalp," says I, "instead of lamps. Wall, boys, -these town toughs has shot out El Seņor Don, and they're proposing to -play their pure fountain of law on two more of our tribe, the same being -young Jim his son, and little Curly McCalmont." - -"Say, Chalkeye, when do you get yo' dividends from Messrs. Robbers, -Roost, and Co.?" - -"Why, Buck, it's on them days when I trusts you with loans of money." - -The crowd knew Buck's habit of not paying his debts, and proposed to -divide up his shirt and pants if he got too obvious with remarks. - -"Boys," I went on, "we been letting these town citizens get too much -happy and animated, throwing dirt in our face. Why, here's down east -newspapers sobbing obituary notices over the poor cowboy species -departed. Seems that we-all, and the mammoth, and the dodo, and the -bison is numbered with the past, and our bones is used to manure the -crops of the industrious farmer. Does that splash you? - -"Dear departed, I appeals to you most sorrowful--ain't it time to show -signs of being alive? Not being a worker of miracles, I don't aim to -corrupt yo' morals, I ain't proposing to obliterate the town which -provides us with our liquor and groceries, I ain't a party to acts of -violence; but I do propose that we just whirl in to-night and rescue -them po' kids at La Morita. Of course, in busting the calaboose we may -have to shoot up a few Mexicans--but it does them good to be taken -serious at times, and they'd sure hate to be ignored while we stole -their captives." - -Mutiny called out, "Say, now you've got yo' tail up, you ain't -forgetting to talk." - -And on that the boys got riotous--"Rair up some more, ole Chalkeye; -let's see you paw the moon!" - -"You tell the lies, we'll stick to 'em!" - -"Who stole Ryan's cows, eh, Chalkeye?" - -"Let the old horse-thief turn his wolf loose! Ki-yi-yeou-ou-ou!" - -"Loo-loo-loo-Yip! Yow!" - -"Girls," says I, "you're gettin' plenty obstreperous. Come on--let's -roll our tails for old Mexico!" - -The boys came yelping, and we trotted the night through, throwing the -miles behind us. - -At three o'clock, to judge by the stars of Orion, we rested our ponies -near the boundary, at the streak of dawn loped on, and just as the day -broke hurricaned in a gun-blaze down on La Morita. - -I regret to state for your information that the Mexican Frontier Guards -were too sleepy to play up their side of the game, but surrendered -abject before they had time to get hurt. Moreover, our youngsters had -vamoosed through a hole in the wall. So there were no captives to -liberate, except four measly _vaqueros_, which gave us a red-hot cussing -at being waked too early for coffee time. We had a sickening miserable -picnic, a waste of sweat and oratory. - -Slow and solemn we gaoled up those soldiers in the calaboose, and -mounted the sulky _vaqueros_ for a guard to hold them, feeling all the -time like a batch of widows. - -In the stable I found Curly's buckskin mare and my fool horse Jones, the -pair of which I took when we started for home. As to Jim and Curly, we -held a council smoke, debating on their fate. The crowd agreed that -these kids had been my pupils, and would be sure horse-thieves -naturally. I felt they had gone afoot, but scouting around, I failed to -find their sign. There was a track of a man with cowboy heels, going -east, but it seemed to wiggle drunk. I never thought of Jim rolling -along as he did with Curly on his back, but searched for the tracks of -the pair running side by side. If I had only been a better scout I might -have understood the lone track, and followed with horses to mount my -youngsters for flight. We could have made an easy escape from the -country, ending all our troubles--but I was a fool. - -So soon as my tribe pulled out for home I knew that the Frontier Guards -would be loose at once like burned-out hornets. To linger in their way -would be unhealthy, and I had no tracks to follow anyway. So I pulled -out with the rest, taking all guns and horses, leaving the Guards -disarmed and afoot lest they should try to act warlike. Further north -the guns were thrown away, except some retained as mementos, and we used -the Mexican herd of ponies to cover our tracks where we scattered. - -This episode is alluded to by the foolish cowboys as "Chalkeye's -victory--all talk and run." - -A couple of miles to the eastward of La Morita Jim found that his little -partner weighed a ton. After working all night, and struggling to the -limit of his strength, he could go no further. The day was breaking; to -move by daylight meant an extra risk of being seen, and there was -nothing to be gained by travelling. So he staggered to the nearest -hilltop, found a good look-out point, then smashed up some local -rattlesnakes, and laid Curly to rest under a sheltering rock. From there -he watched what the _Weekly Obituary_ described as "an infamous outrage, -perpetrated at La Morita by a gang of cowardly ruffians." Not that Jim -was shocked--indeed, I reckon the lad put up signs of depraved joy. He -said to the little partner-- - -"We're sure saved, Curly, from being tracked down by the Guards and -murdered." - -I calculate that one ordinary Arizona day without food and water would -have finished Curly, but as it happened this was a desert Sabbath, when -the clouds had a round-up for prayer. I ain't religious; it's no use for -a poor devil like me to make a bluff at being holy, and if I went to -church the Big Spirit would say: "Look at this Chalkeye person playing -up at Me in a boiled shirt--ain't this plumb ridiculous?" - -It's no use, because I'm bad, but yet it humbles me down low to watch -the clouds when they herd together for prayers, flirting their angel -wings against the sun, lifting their gruff voices in supplication, -tearing up the sky with their lightnings, sending down the rain of mercy -to us poor desert creatures. The respectable people hire preachers to -tell the Big Spirit of their wants, but it's the white clouds of the sky -that says prayers for us ignorant range folks, for the coyotes, the deer -and panthers, the bears and cows, the ponies and the cowboys. Then the -rain comes to save us from dying of thirst, and we cusses around -ungrateful because it makes us wet. - -When the storm broke that morning, the rain roared, the ground splashed, -the hills ran cataracts, and Jim and Curly got washed out of their camp, -the same becoming a pool all of a sudden, and were much too wet to go to -sleep again. Moreover, the fever had left off prancing around in Curly's -brain, and the cold had eased her wound like some big medicine. - -Jim had found a corner under the rock ledge which was perfectly dry. His -leather Mexican clothes were shrunk tight with rain, the staining ran in -streaks on his face, his teeth played tunes with the cold. - -"El Seņor Don Santiago," says Curly, "yo' face has all gawn pinto, and -it don't look Mexican that a-way in stripes. Maybe yo're changing into -a sort of half-breed." - -"I'm beastly cold," says Jim, grave as a funeral. - -"Same here," she laughed. "Don't you think yo' disguise would pass for -something in the way of striped squir'ls? With a rat in yo' paws you'd -do for a chipmunk." - -"Let me be," says Jim. "How's your wound?" - -"Not aching to hurt, just to remind me it's there. How did we get to -this rock?" - -Jim told her about the escape, and how the Frontier Guards had been left -afoot, and how the storm had come convenient to wash out the raiders' -tracks as well as his own. - -The rain had quit, and the plain was shining like a sea of gold which -ran in channels between the island groups of purple mountains. So one -could sure see range after range melting off into more than a hundred -miles of clear distance, to where the sunshine was hot beyond the -clouds. That clearness after rain is a great wonder to see, and makes -one feel very good. - -"Talk some more," says Curly, "then I won't be encouraging this wound by -taking notice of it." - -"Shall I lift you here to this dry corner?" - -"No; it's sure fighting, moving. Leave me be." - -"Curly, how did you get that scar above your eye?" - -"Buck handed me that. He's shorely fretful at times. Who's Buck? Why, -he's second in command of our gang. No, he's a sure man. I'm plenty fond -of Buck." - -"The brute! I'll wring his beastly neck! You love him?" - -"Wouldn't you love all yo' brothers, Jim?" - -"Oh, brothers--that's all right. But why did the rotten coward make that -scar?" - -"You see, Buck's plenty fond of me, and his emotions is r'aring high, -specially when--wall, I refused to be Mrs. Buck. It sounded so funny -that I had to laugh. Then he got bucking squealing crazy, and when he's -feeling that a-way he throws knives, which it's careless of him." - -"He wounded you with a knife? The cur!" - -"Oh, but Buck was remorseful a whole lot afterwards, and father shot him -too. Father always shoots when the boys get intimate. Poor Buck! I -nursed him until he was able to get around again, and he loves me worse -than ever. It cayn't be helped." - -"So these robbers know that you--that you're a girl?" - -"They found me out last year. Yes, it's at the back of their haids that -I'm their lil sister, and they're allowed to be brothers to me, Jim. Now -don't you snort like a hawss, 'cause they're all the brothers I've got." - -"You're not afraid of them?" - -"You cayn't think what nice boys they are. Of course, being robbers, -they claims to have been hatched savage, and brung up dangerous, pore -things. Father tells 'em that they has no occasion for vain-glorious -pride, 'cause their vocation is mean." - -"He's dead right, and I'm glad he shoots them!" - -"Generally in the laigs. He says he reckons that a tender inducement to -being good is better than a bullet through the eye. Of co'se thar has to -be some discipline to chasten they'r hearts, or they'd get acting -bumptious." - -"Humph!" - -"But you don't savvy. Father has to press his views on the boys, but -they'd be much worse if it wasn't for him. He says he's a heaps -indulgent parent to 'em, and I reckon he shorely is. Father's the best -man in the whole world. Do you know he only kills when he has to, and -not for his own honour and glory? Why, he won't rob a man unless he's -got lots of wealth. Once he was a bad man, but that's a long while ago, -before I remember." - -"Were you always raised as a boy?" - -"Allus. He made me learn to ride, and rope, and shoot, from--ever since -I was weaned. When I got old enough he learned me scouting, cooking, -packing a hawss, tending wounds, hunting--all sorts of things. I been -well educated shore enough, more than most boys." - -"It's all beastly rot calling him good--McCalmont good!" - -"A hawss or a dawg, or a lil' child will run from a bad man, but they -love my father. Oh, but you don't know how good he is!" - -"Well, let it go at that. You wanted to be a robber?" - -"Shorely, yes, but he never would let me. It ain't true what that -sign-paper says up in the city yonder, that I robbed a train. I wasn't -there at all. You see, father picked up on the home trail with a -starving man, and helped him. That mean, or'nary cuss went and told Joe -Beef, the sheriff, that I was in the gang which held up the train. -That's why I'm due to be hunted and roped, or shot at by any citizen who -wants two thousand dollars. Of co'se, it's nacheral there should be a -bounty offered on wolf haids, but I'd like to have a nice wolf-time -before I'm killed. I never had a chance to get my teeth in, 'cept only -once. Yes, we stole six hundred head of cattle from the Navajos, and you -should just have seen the eager way they put out after us. They was -plenty enthoosiastic, and they came mighty near collecting our wigs." - -"It makes me sick to think of you with a gang of thieves." - -"Father says that the worst crimes is cowardice, meanness, and cheating. -The next worse things is banks, railroad companies, lawyers; and that -young Ryan--'specially Ryan--he says that us robbers is angels compared -with trash like that." - -"That's no excuse." - -"Father says that robbery is a sign that the law is rotten, and a proof -that the Government's too pore and weak to cast a proper shadow. He -allows we're a curse to the country, and it serves the people right." - -"It's bad--you know it's bad!" - -"Shore thing it's bad. Do you know what made us bad? All of our tribe -was cowboys and stockmen once; not saints, but trying to act honest, and -only stealing cows quite moderate, like ole Chalkeye. Then rich men came -stealing our water-holes, fencing in our grass, driving our cattle -away." - -"Why didn't you get a lawyer--wasn't there any law?" - -"There shorely was. My father's farm was way back in Kansas. His -neighbour was a big cattle company, which hadn't any use for farms or -settlers. They turned their cattle into his crops, they shot my brother -Bill, they wounded father. Then father went to law, and the lawyers -skinned him alive, and the judge was a shareholder in the Thomas Cattle -Company--he done gave judgment that we-all was in the wrong. Then father -appealed to the big Court at Washington, which says he had the right to -his land and home. So the cattle company set the grass on fire and -burned our home. Mother was burned to death, and father he went bad. I -was the only thing he saved from the fire." - -"Poor beggar! No wonder he turned robber. I'd have done the same, by -Jove!" - -"He shot Judge Thomson first, then he killed Mose Thomson, and the -sheriff put out to get him. He got the sheriff. Then he went all through -Kansas and Colorado, gathering pore stockmen what had been robbed and -ruined by the rich men's law. They held up pay-escorts, stage coaches, -banks, the trains on the railroad. That was the beginning of the -Robbers' Roost." - -Jim sat heaps thoughtful looking away across the desert. "Our breeding -cattle," says he, tallying on his fingers, "then Holy Cross, then -mother, then father, and now I'm being hunted for a murder I didn't -commit." - -"Now you know," says Curly, "why we robbers played a hand in yo' game." - -"I understand. Say, Curly, I take back all I said about it being -bad--this robbery-under-arms. It's the only thing to do." - -"Don't you get dreaming," says Curly, "we-all ain't blind; our eyes is -open a whole lot wide to truth, and we make no bluff that robbery and -murder is forms of holiness." - -"It's all right for me. I'm a man, and I'm not a coward, either. But, -Curly, you're not fit for a game like this. I'm going to take you -away--where you'll be safe." - -"And whar to?" - -Jim looked at the desert steaming after the rain, hot as flame, reaching -away all round for ever and ever. He looked at Curly's wound all swollen -up, her face which had gone gaunt with pain and weakness. They were -afoot, they were hunted, they had no place to hide. - -"Whar do you propose to take me?" says Curly. - -"I don't know," says Jim; "perhaps your people aren't so bad after -all--anyway, they tried to keep you clean." - -"And what's the use of that? D'ye think I want to be alone in the hull -world--clean with no folks, no home? Why should I want to be different -from my father, and all my tribe? Would I want to be safe while they're -in danger? Would I want to play coward while they fight? Shucks! Father -turned me out to grass onced at the Catholic Mission, and them priests -was shorely booked right through to heaven. What's the use of my being -thar, while the rest of my tribe is in hell? I dreamt last night I was -in hell, carrying water to feed it to my wolves; I couldn't get a drop -for myself--never a drop." - -"Curly, I've got to save you--I must--I shall!" - -She laughed at him. "You! Do you remember me at Holy Crawss when I -punched cows for Chalkeye? I might ha' been thar still but for you." - -"What on earth do you mean?" - -"Jim, I met up with yo' mother, and I didn't want to be bad any more -when I seen her." - -"She thought the world of you." - -The poor child broke out laughing, "Oh, shucks!" Then her face went -bitter. "She said she loved me, eh?" - -"She said I was a beastly little cad compared with you. When I got home -from college she held you up for a holy example, and rubbed my nose in -it. She was right--but how I cursed you!" - -Curly laughed faint and lay back moaning, for the sun had come hot from -the clouds, and she was burning with pain. "So yo' mother claimed she -loved me. Well, I know better!" - -"Why didn't you stay with her, Curly?" - -"I seen her face when she waited for you to come home--you, Jim, and she -looked sure hungry. What was I to her, when she seen her own son -a-coming? I waited to see you, Jim; I jest had to see you 'cause you was -pizen to me. Then I went away 'cause I'd have killed you if I'd seen you -any mo'." - -"Where did you go?" - -"Whar I belong, back to the wolf pack. What had I to do with a home, and -a mother, with shelter, and livin' safe, and bein' loved? I'm only a -wolf with a bounty on my hide, to be hunted down and shot." - -"And you--a girl!" - -"No, a mistake!" - -Jim pawed out, and grabbed her small brown hand. "You came back," he -whispered. - -"I came back to see if that Ryan was goin' to wipe you out, you and yo' -people. I came to see you die." - -"And saved my life!" - -"I reckon," says Curly, "I ain't quite responsible anyways for my -life--'cause I'm only a mistake--jest a mistake. I feels one way, and -acts the contrary; I whirl in to kill, and has to rescue; I aims to -hate--and instead of that I----" - -"What?" - -"I dunno," she laughed. "Up home at Robbers' Roost we got a lil' book on -etiquette what tells you how ladies and gentlemen had ought to act in -heaps big difficulties. It shorely worries me to know whether I'm a lady -or a gentleman, but it's mighty comfortin' the way that book is wrote. I -done broke all my wolves outer that book to set up on their tails and -act pretty. Now, if I had the book I'd know how I'd ought to act in -regard to you-all." - -Jim looked mighty solemn, being naturally about as humorous as a -funeral. "Am I nothing to you?" he asked, feeling hurt; but she just -opened one eye at him, smiling, and said nothing. - -Presently the pain got so bad that she began to roll from side to side, -scratching with her free hand at the face of the rock overhead. - -"Can't I do something?" says Jim. "It's awful to sit and watch that -pain. I must do something." - -"If you climb to the top of this rock," she said between her teeth, -"you'd see La Soledad. My father's thar." - -"I'll run." - -"Why run?" She snatched a small round looking-glass out of the breast of -her shirt. "You've only to get the sun on this glass and flash the light -three times upon La Soledad. The man on look-out will see the flash." - -"Give me the glass, then." - -"No." - -"Why not?" - -"Do you know what it means, Jim, if you flash that signal?" - -"Rescue for you." - -"And for you, Jim? It means that you quit bein' an honest man, it means -shame, it means death. Us outlaws don't die in our beds, Jim." - -"Give me the glass." - -"No, Jim. Some time soon, when you and me is riding with the outfit, or -camped at our stronghold, the army is goin' to come up agin' us--pony -soldiers, and walk-a-heaps, and twice guns, to take our water-holes, to -drive away our _remuda_, to block our escape trails, to close in on us. -Our fires are goin' to be put out, our corpses left to the coyotes and -the eagles." - -"Give me that glass!" - -"And my father says that beyond that is the Everlastin' Death." - -"Do you think you can frighten me? Give me that glass!" He snatched the -glass from her hand, scrambled to the top of the rocks, and flashed the -light three times upon La Soledad. - -A white star answered. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -A MARRIAGE SETTLEMENT - - -McCalmont was hid up at the _ranchita_ La Soledad, with a sentry out to -the south-west watching La Morita, a sentry out to the west to keep tab -on the Bisley trail, a sentry out to the north on the Grave City road, -and Buck Hennesy, his segundo, riding from point to point with feed and -water. When anything happened the sentries flashed a signal to Buck, who -warned the chief. At sunrise McCalmont had news of our raid on La -Morita, and that made him think for sure that the kids were rescued. -He'd been riding all night, so he got his eye down quick for a big -sleep. The storm rolled up, burst, and trailed off to the eastward; the -sun shone out, lifting white steam from the desert; then came the heat. -At two o'clock, away southward through the quivering haze, Buck sighted -the three-flash signal, which means "Help!" He threw back the two-flash, -"Coming." - -So he and the chief loped out, taking a canteen of cold tea, which is -the proper medicine for thirst, and a led horse each, to bring the -youngsters in to the little ranche. By four o'clock they had Curly -bedded down in the shack, supposing herself to be a prairie-dog, and -wanting to know who'd come and stole her tail. McCalmont nursed her, -Buck went off to spoil the trail from the hill, and Jim squatted down on -the doorstep for a feed of pork and beans, with lashings of coffee. - -The main outfit of the robbers was camped at Las Aguas, some miles to -the north-east, and three of them came in at dusk to get their supper -and relieve the sentries around La Soledad. They were heaps shy when -they saw what looked like a greaser _vaquero_ sitting in the doorway of -the cabin. One of them rode right at him. - -"Here, you," he shouted. "Git out 'er here _pronto_! Vamoose!" - -"_Poco tiempo_," says Jim. - -"Who are you, anyways?" - -"_Quien sabe?_" - -"Wall, ye cayn't stay here, so ye'd best get absent." He pulled his gun -on Jim's feet. "Now jest you prance!" - -Jim laughed at him. - -"_Maņana_," he said. Then in English, "You bark a lot, my friend. Whose -dog are you?" - -Then he heard McCalmont's slow, soft drawl. "I sure enjoy to see the -sire's grit show out in the young colt. Spoke like a man, Jim! And as to -you, Crazy Hoss, I want you to understand that if you don't learn -deportment I'll politely lam yo' haid, you, you double-dealing -foogitive, low-flung, sheep-herdin' son of a lop-eared thug! Hain't you -got no more sense than a toorist, you parboiled, cock-eyed, spavined, -broken-down, knock-kneed wreck o' bones? You----!" - -With such genteel introductions McCalmont sure spouted burning wrath -into that robber, scorching holes until he lost his breath. - -"The evil communications of this young polecat," says he to Jim, "is -shorely spoiling my manners. And now, you--you turtle-doves, you'll jest -get away out of here and cook your supper thar by the barn. You want to -be mighty quiet too, 'cause my Curly is lying in here wounded. Git over -now!" - -The robbers trailed off grinning, while the chief sat down on the -doorstep next to Jim. - -"The children make me peevish," he said, and began to roll a cigarette -in his fingers. "Wall, do you remember, Jim? I allowed we'd be better -friends when we met again." - -Jim looked round sharp and sat there studying McCalmont. He didn't look -bad or dangerous, but just a middle-aged cattle-man of the old long-horn -desert breed. Our folks are rough and homely; we've got a hard name, -too, but we stay alive in a country which kills off all but the -fighters. McCalmont had a cool blue eye, humorous and kind, and grey -hair straggling down over a face that was tanned to leather. The -stiff-brimmed cowboy hat was jammed on the back of his head, the white -silk handkerchief hung loose about his shoulders. He wore a grey army -shirt, blue overalls, stuffed anyhow into his boots, and a loose belt of -cartridges, slinging the Colt revolver on his hip. Somehow the youngster -felt drawn to him, knowing he'd found a friend of the kind that lasts. - -"And you were that sky-scout?" says he. - -"A most unworthy shepherd! Jest you look at my sheep," says McCalmont. - -Jim asked how long it was since they met that day on the range. - -"It seems a year to you, eh, lad? That was six days ago, the way I -reckon time." - -"So much has happened--sir--can it be less than a week? I was only a boy -then--and Curly----" - -"My son has struck you serious." - -"She has told me everything, sir." - -"Yo' goin' to remember to speak of Curly as a boy. He is allooded to as -a boy, or I get hawstile. You understand that?" - -"I understand." - -"And now," says McCalmont, "we'll have that buckboard ready in case we -need to pull out." - -There was a buckboard standing in the yard, the same being a four-wheel -dogtrap, with a springy floor of boards, easy for travel. Jim helped -McCalmont to stow some cases and a keg of water, fill sacks with sweet -range hay for Curly's bed, and then cover the whole with a canvas -ground-sheet. - -"You think," says Jim, "that we'll be chased to-night?" - -"I dunno, Jim, but it looks to me as that's how the herd is grazing." - -When supper was ready they strayed across to the fire and joined issue -with beef, hot bread, and coffee, the same being taken serious without -waste of time or talk. We range-folk don't interrupt our teeth with -aimless discourse. By smoke-time Buck loped off in the dusk to find the -_remuda_ of ponies out at grass, and the boys had a cigarette while he -gathered, watered, and drove the ponies home. Then the team for the -buckboard was caught, harnessed, and tied up with a feed of corn; each -man roped and saddled his night horse; and Buck, with the three relief -men, rode out slow, curving away into the starlight. - -McCalmont roped a sorrel mare for Jim, then found him a spare saddle, a -bridle, a blanket, belt, gun, and spurs. - -"Now," says he, "jest bed yo'self down, but don't undress. Keep yo' -hawss to hand, sleep rapid, and in case of alarm jump quick. An outlaw's -bed, my son, ain't feathered for long sleeps." - -Jim lay awake and watched until the day guard came loping in with Buck. -He saw them rope and saddle their remounts, catch their supper, bed -down, and smoke the final cigarette. It all felt homely and good to be -with cowboys again, to have his blanket on the dust, his horse and gun -beside him, to know he was free and moderately safe, to look up drowsy -at a great white sky of stars. Jim was a plainsman in those days sure -enough, content, range fashion, to have the whole earth for a bed, the -night for a bedroom, and the starry palace of the Great Spirit to -shelter him while he slept. Kings and emperors and such have to hole up -at night in mean quarters compared with that. - -Somewhere out on the range McCalmont's guard-camp kept a sentry alert -through the night, and when Jim woke up he saw the day guard swarming -off in the grey of dawn to relieve them. He washed himself in the -horse-trough, and helped McCalmont to cook breakfast. - -"Now don't you make too much fire," says the chief, "'cause the less -smoke we show the better for our health. We want no strangers projecting -around to pay us mawning visits." - -"Colonel," says Jim, "how's Curly?" - -"Right peart, and chirping for breakfast." - -The boys came rolling in from night guard. "Now you, Crazy Hoss," says -McCalmont, "rope the day hawsses, and put the herd to grass befo' you -feed. You, Buck, is all secure?" - -"Wall, boss, there's United States pony-soldiers, three hundred haid of -'em, comes trailing down out of the Mule Pass." - -"Heading this way?" - -"No, seh; they're pointing for La Morita." - -"I see. It's because of the shockin' outrage yesterday on them pore -Mexican Guards at La Morita. I expaict that ole Mexico is up on its ear -for war, and they'll be sending their army to eat the United States. -Jest take yo' glasses, Buck, and see if that Mexican army is coming -along." - -Buck rode to the nearest hill and looked over the top without showing -himself on the skyline; then he came sailing back, and rolled up to the -chief, all snorting. - -"There's the dust of an army on the Fronteras trail." - -"Them rival armies," McCalmont drawled, "will talk theyrselves into -fits, and the rival Governments will talk theyrselves into fits; and all -the newspapers will talk theyrselves into fits; then they'll agree that -La Morita was raided, and they'll agree that it was the acts of wicked -robbers, and they'll agree it was _me_. 'Spose we have our coffee." - -All through the night McCalmont had been sitting up with Curly, treating -her wound to a course of cold wet bandages once in five minutes to -reduce the swelling. After breakfast he went back again to her side, and -his teeth were sure set hard, because he had made up his mind to dig for -the bullet, which caused her more pain than was needful. As for Jim, he -squatted on the doorstep outside, with time at last to think. His -affairs had been some hurried and precipitous in this one week, which -cost him his parents, his home, his business as master of a tribe of -cowboys, his friends, his prospects, his reputation as an honest man. -And now the whirlwind had dropped him on the doorstep of a 'dobe shack -to think the matter over quietly and have a look at himself. He was an -orphan now, poor as a wolf, hunted, desperate, herded with thieves. What -was the use of trying to earn an honest living when the first -respectable person he met would begin the conversation by shooting him -all to pieces? - -Then he heard McCalmont calling him: "Say, can yo' lawdship oblige me -with the loan of a pin?" - -His lordship! The poor chap remembered now that he was Viscount -Balshannon, Baron Blandon, and several different sorts of baronets. - -"Yo' lawdship!" - -"McCalmont," he howled, "you brute!" - -Then he heard Curly telling her father to behave himself, and his mind -went off grazing again over the range of his troubles. There was that -Curly, the famous desperado, the fighting frontiersman, the man who had -saved his life--and all of a sudden he had to think of him--of her--as a -poor girl crazy with pain. Jim had to face a fact which had hit his very -soul, turned the world upside down, and left him wriggling. It was no -use being hostile or disappointed; he couldn't make believe he was -glad. Curly didn't feel like a chum or a partner now; he couldn't -imagine her as any sort of sister or friend. She just filled his life -until there was nothing else to care for on earth, and it made his bones -ache. - -Then McCalmont began to work with some sort of surgical instruments, -probing her wound for the bullet. He heard her make little moans, -whimpers, and stopped his ears with his fingers. Then she screamed. - -Jim was shaking all over, but with that scream he knew what had happened -to himself. He had fallen head over ears in love with that same Curly. - -After a long time McCalmont came out of the shack and sat down alongside -of Jim. The robber was white as a ghost; he was trembling and gulping -for breath. - -"Here," he cried, "you take this." - -Jim took the thing in his hand--a flattened bullet, all torn around the -edges and streaked with blood. - -For some time he just sat staring at that bullet, scared by his own -thoughts. "Captain," says he at last, "Curly's not dying?" - -"Why, not to any great extent, my son." McCalmont lay back on a dirt -floor, and yawned. "He's sleeping a whole lot now, and if you'll stay -around in case he wakes, I'll take a few myself; I'm kinder tired." - -The robber dropped off to sleep, and Jim sat watching beside him. At -noon the boys off duty in the yard called him to dinner, but McCalmont -slept far into the afternoon. Then of a sudden he started broad awake, -his hand on his gun, staring out at the blazing heat of the desert. - -"That's all right," says he; "three hours' rest is enough for hawsses -and robbers, so I reckon I've took more'n my share." - -"Curly's still sleeping," says Jim. - -"I'll catch some lunch, then." - -Jim watched him ranging about the yard, bread in one hand, meat in the -other, eating his dinner while he hustled his men to work. He kept three -young robbers busy until the camp gear was stowed for travel, and all -the litter was hid away out of sight. Then he made them bury the ashes -of the camp fire, and smooth over all the tracks until the ground looked -as though there had been no visitors for a week. - -After that he brought a pencil and notebook for Jim. - -"I want you to write," he said; "scrawl yo' worst, and put down all the -spellin' ignorant. Write:--'Dere Bill, I'm gawn with the buckboard for -grub. Back this even.'--B. Brown.' Yes, that will do." - -He took the book from Jim, tore out the leaf, and hung it on the door -conspicuous. - -"Thar's times," he said, "when sheriffs and marshals, and posses of -virtuous citizens gets out on the warpath in pursuit of robbers. They -comes pointing along mighty suspicious, and reads the tracks on the -ground, and notes the signs, and sniffs the little smells, and in they'r -ignorant way draws false concloosions. Meanwhile the robbers has -adjourned." - -Jim's face was as long as a coffin. "Captain," says he, "I've been -thinking." - -"I'm sorry yo're took bad, my son." The robber sat down beside him. "Let -me see yo' tongue." - -"Don't laugh at me. Will you mind, Captain McCalmont--if--if I speak of -Curly--just this once--as--as a woman?" - -"Turn yo' wolf loose, my son, I'm hearing." - -"I love her, sir." - -"Same here, Jim." - -"Do you mind, though?" - -"My boy, when I wanted to marry her mother, I jest up an' asked her." - -"I'm not good enough for her." - -"That's so, and yet I reckon Curly's been dead gentle with you-all. Why, -she sure sits on all our haids." - -"I'm afraid she doesn't care for me yet." - -"I expaict, Jim, that an eye-doctor is what you need." - -"And you'll consent?" - -"If Curly consents, on one condition. You get her safely out of this -country, you take her to civilised life, whar she can stay good, away -from us--thieves. Take her to the Old Country." - -"To starve!" - -"I'll see to that. I've left enough wealth with Chalkeye to give you a -start in life. He came down yesterday mawning to see you-all at La -Morita--you were out." - -"Do you suppose," says Jim, getting hot, "that I'd take your money?" - -"If you take my child, yo're not above taking my money, Lord -Balshannon!" - -Jim pawed his gun--"I take no stolen money!" - -"Yo're speaking too loud," says McCalmont, "come over by the corral." - -He walked over to the bars of the corral, Jim following. - -"And now," McCalmont's voice went softer than ever, "I may allude to the -fact that if any cur insults my daughter or me, there is apt to be some -unpleasantness." - -"Don't you think," says Jim, his hand on his gun, "that we had better go -a little further off--so that Curly won't be disturbed when we fire?" - -"Why, boy, air you proposin' to dispense yo' gun at me?" - -"As you please! You called me a cur--and you'll eat your words or -fight!" - -"And you only called me a thief? Wall, I shorely am for a fact, and -you're not a cur--no. I reckon I was some impulsive in saying that. -Come, we won't quar'l, for I like you a whole lot for yo' playing up -against me that-a-way. What are yo' plans?" - -Jim was breathing hard and acting defiant still. "I want to join your -gang!" - -"Which I accepts you glad, for I ain't refusing shelter to any hunted -man." - -"And I may marry Curly?" - -"Not if you join my outfit. None of my wolves are invited to offer theyr -paws in mar'iage with my Curly. Two or three of them young persons -proposed theyrselves, and found my gun a whole lot too contagious for -comfort." - -Jim unbuckled his belt, and let it fall with holster and gun to the -ground. - -"I cannot accept the loan of that gun," he said, "or any favour from -you. I've been hunted, I'm afoot, I'm unarmed, but now, by thunder! look -out for yourself, because I'm going to hunt. I shall rob you if I can; -I'm at war with you and every man on the stock range, until I've won -back my house, my lands, my cattle. Then I'll come for your daughter, -but I won't ask for her!" - -McCalmont leaned his shoulder against the corral, and laughed at him. - -"Wade in!" says he; "good luck, my boy. I mustn't ask you to divulge yo' -plans, but I'm heaps interested." - -"My father told me, Captain McCalmont, that all the first Balshannon won -he got with the sword. Well, times are changed--we use revolvers now!" - -"Only for robbery, my lad, and for murder. I thought as you do once, and -reckoned I'd get even with the world. I started with a lone gun, I sure -got even, but see the price I paid. My wife was--I cayn't talk of that. -My lil' son was shot. My daughter is herding with thieves--and she's the -only thing that I've got left on airth. Come, lad, if I can bear to part -with her, and give her up to you, cayn't you give up a little of yo' -fool pride and accept her dowry jest to save the child? Take her away to -whar she can stay good--I ask no more of you." - -"You want me to run away from Ryan, and let him keep Holy Cross? You -want me to live in Ireland on a woman's money? You want to hire Lord -Balshannon, with stolen money, to keep your daughter?" Jim spat on the -ground. "If you want to give Curly to a filthy blackguard, why don't you -marry her to Ryan?" - -"You use strong words, seh." - -"And mean them!" - -McCalmont lowered his eyes, and pawed in the dust with his foot. Just -for a moment he stood scratching the dust, then he looked up. - -"Onced," he said, very quiet, "I aimed at being a gentleman. I beg yo' -pardon, seh." - -"You are a gentleman," says Jim, "that's just the worst of it--you -understand things. What on earth makes you want to insult me?" - -"It seems to me, Jim, that you might understand, more than you do, that -I'm aiming to be yo' friend. Yo're at war with this yere Ryan to get -back Holy Crawss, or a fair equivalent, eh, for what you've lost?" - -"Go on, sir." - -"I'm at war, too, with the breed of swine he belongs to. Would you be -satisfied if Ryan paid in cash for yo' home, yo' land, and yo' cattle? -You being an outlaw now, it wouldn't be healthy to live there to any -great extent. Will you take cash?" - -"Or blood!" - -"I have no speshul use fo' blood. I reckon I'd as soon bleed a polecat -as a Ryan, if I yearned for blood. What d'you reckon you could buy with -blood--sections of peace, chunks of joy? I'd take mine in cash." - -"You'll help, sir?" - -"For all young Ryan's worth, and then"--McCalmont laid his hands on -Jim's shoulders--"you'll take Curly home as yo' wife, eh, partner?" - -"If she is willing, sir." - -McCalmont's ears went back against his head, he lifted his nose to the -west, pointing up wind. There was a sound like the thud of raindrops on -dust, a soft pattering which came nearer and stronger. He loosed off -the long yell to rouse the three men who were resting by the barn, he -told Jim to pick up his gun and help, he jumped for the team horses and -led them to the buckboard. - -The pattering had grown up out of the distance to a steady rush of -sound, the ground had begun to quiver, then to shake, then with a yell -of warning, Buck and his sentries came thundering in from the desert. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE MARSHAL'S POSSE - - -McCalmont backed his team to the buckboard, lifted the waggon tongue to -the ring of the yoke bar, and jumped to hitch on the traces, just as -Buck reined all standing to report. - -"There's a strong posse," says Buck, "coming out from the Mule -Pass--maybe sixty riders, and they're shorely burning the trail straight -for this ranche." - -"Were you seen?" - -"No, seh!" - -"Bowlaigs, Johnny, Steve, yo're mounted, so you'll collect the herd, -drive north, and keep wide of the trail! Crazy Hoss, hold this team! -Doc, throw my saddle on that sorrel, and lead north; Buck, make the camp -search, and follow, closing all signs 'cept the wheel-track! Jim, help -the herders! Git a move on!" - -McCalmont had got through with the harnessing while he slung his orders; -now he went to work smooth and quiet, pulling on his shaps (leather -leg-armour) and buckling his spurs while his cool eye searched the -yard. - -"Buck," he called, "let the water drain out of that hoss trough. That -water wouldn't look natural on an empty ranche." - -McCalmont brought Curly in his arms, bedded her down in the rig, drew -the ground-sheet over to keep off the sun and dust, and passed a lashing -across. - -After that he locked the door of the cabin, and hung the key on its -nail. It was just that thoughtfulness in little plays which made -McCalmont loom up great in his business. Two minutes after the first -alarm he grabbed the reins, jumped to his seat, and drove off slow from -the yard, aiming to show by the tracks that Cocky Brown's old buckboard -had not pulled out in a hurry. Buck and Crazy Hoss stayed to brush out a -few spare tracks, put up the slip rails and follow. For all one could -see at the little _ranchita_ La Soledad, the owner, Cocky Brown, had -trailed off for supplies to the city, then a couple of riders had -happened along shortly after, and read the notice which was left for -"Dere Bill" on the door. - -McCalmont just poured his whip into the team as Buck came up abreast. - -"All set?" he asked. - -"All set, seh." - -"Can we get behind them hills befo' we're seen by the posse?" - -Buck looked back to the boys who were sweating the herd astern. "Yes," -he shouted, "I reckon. You done right smart, seh, to get Curly out 'n -that mess." - -"You'll be pleased to know, Buck, that my Curly is engaged to be mar'ied -to this du Chesnay colt." - -Buck's face went white, but he just spurred along saying nothing. A fold -of the ground shut out the ranche behind, a hill barred off the country -to the left, and, if the posse could see the dust of the flying outfit, -they might well mistake that for one of the whirlwinds which curve -around the desert wherever the sun burns strong. - -"Buck," says McCalmont, "reach back to the skyline, and see if that -posse puts out on our trail from the ranche. At dusk I quit this Grave -City road, and strike due east. If yo're delayed, jest roll yo' trail -right east for Holy Crawss. In the mawning we round up all the stock we -can find thar, and pull out for home. You understand?" - -"I understand," says Buck, and swung off for the skyline. - - * * * * * - -The breaking out of evil passions between the cowboys and the Grave City -citizens opened my eye to the fact that this city was getting a whole -lot obsolete since the mines began to peter out. Its population of -twelve thousand assorted criminals had shrunken away to mere survivals -living to save the expense of funeral pomps. Counting in tramps, -tourists, and quite a few dogs, expected visitors and the dear departed, -these ruins claimed a population of one thousand persons, mostly escaped -from penitentiary. It made me feel lonesome to think of such a tribe -with its mean ways, distorted intellects, and narrow views about me. - -On the other hand, there was Bisley, a sure live mining town in the Mule -Pass, where the people were youthful, happy, and sympathetic. After that -melancholy victory of mine at La Morita I came butting along to Bisley, -where I reckoned I could have a glass of lager beer without being shot -to any great extent. Besides that, United States Marshal Hawkins lives -there, who's always been a white man and a good friend to me. I found -his house away up the gulch, above Bisley City, and he being to home, -just whirled right in, telling him how sick my heart was, and how my fur -was all bristles. - -He said he was disgusted with me for getting mixed up with local -politics and robbers. - -Naturally I explained how I'd only been acting as second in a duel -between Balshannon and that Ryan. - -He agreed I was modest in the way I put my case, and that I ought to be -hanged some in the public interest. - -"How about the robbers?" says he. - -"Is there robbers about?" says I. "Is thar really now?" - -He snapped out news of the La Morita raid that very morning, and I own -up I was shocked all to pieces when he told me what had happened to -those fragile guards. - -"Why, man," says he, "it's all your doing, and I had to wire for the -dog-gone cavalry." - -"Cavalry?" says I. "Pore things; d'you reckon they'll get sore feet?" - -"I opine," says the Marshal, "that you'll get a sore neck soon and -sudden, you double-dealing, cattle-stealing, hoss thief. Whar do you -think you'll go to when you're lynched?" - -So he went on denouncing around until it was time to eat, then asked me -to dinner. After that Mrs. Hawkins was plenty abusive, too, -close-herding me until supper, when the Marshal came home. Hawkins, -thoughtful to keep me out of mischief, made me bed down for the night in -his barn; and I made no howl because here at Bisley, close to the -boundary, I would get the first news of Jim and Curly. It made me sick -to think how helpless I was to find them. In the morning a squadron of -cavalry arrived by rail, had coffee in town, and trailed off in their -harmless way to patrol the boundary for fear of somebody stealing -Mexico. I lay low, but mended a sewing machine which had got the -fan-tods, according to Mrs. Hawkins. I treated the poor thing for -inflammation of the squeam until it got so dead I couldn't put it -together any more. My mind was all set on my lost kids out yonder in -the desert, but Mrs. Hawkins grieved for the dead machine, and chased me -out of the house. - -Just then came the Marshal swift back from Bisley town on a bicycle. - -"Say, Chalkeye," he yelled, "I want you to saddle my mare, and get -mounted yourself! _Pronto!_" - -When I came out with the horses I found him fondling his shot-gun, so I -buckled on my guns, and inquired for the name of my enemy. - -"You know Cocky Brown?" he asked, as we rode down street. - -"I know he makes a first-rate stranger," says I. - -"His dog-gone son is here in Bisley drunk, and lets out that old Cocky -is getting rent for La Soledad." - -"Who is the locoed tenant--some poor tourist?" - -"It's that dog-gone McCalmont and his robbers!" - -"And yet, Mr. Hawkins, you laid the blame on me for raiding La Morita! -It makes me sick!" - -"For raiding La Morita? Why, of course--McCalmont's robbers--the same -gang which shot up the 'Sepulchre' crowd at Grave City. That explains -everything! Wall, I'm sure sorry, old friend, that I laid the blame on -you." - -"Mr. Hawkins," says I, "hadn't you better tell the pony-soldiers that -they're barking up the wrong tree?" - -"I will, and get their help in surprising that dog-gone McCalmont at La -Soledad. A good idea." - -That was his idea, not mine, and I disown it. Suppose that Jim and Curly -were hid up there at La Soledad? - -"We can get them or'nary hold-ups," says I indignant, "without being -cluttered with a heap of military infants. Why, your half-fledged, -moulting cavalry would just get right in our way by tumbling all over -theirselves." - -In the town we found the citizens surging around for encouraging liquors -before they hit the trail. They were all bristling with pocket-flasks -and artillery, some on mules, some on sore-back plugs from the livery -stable. Besides that there were heroes in sulkies, and dog-traps, and -buckboards, warriors on bicycles, and three on a pioneer motor-car, -which blew up with a loud explosion in front of the Turkish Divan. Mixed -in with that milling herd were seven of my La Morita raiders, howling -for robbers' blood, and gassing about the disgracefulness of molesting -frontier guards. Then they circled round a tenderfoot on a pinto horse, -and told him how the robbers fed red-hot coals to a prisoner. - -"Wall, I admire!" says the shorthorn. - -"Oh, you needn't believe me," says Lying Ike, "ask Chalkeye here. He's -truthful." - -"Stranger," says I, "allow me to introduce you to Mr. Lying Ike. He has -an impediment in his truth, but otherwise will survive until he's -lynched. Now, seh, the Marshal over yonder says that he yearns for your -advice." - -That tenderfoot loped off joyful to teach the United States Marshal, -while I spoke to my cowboys like a father. - -"You moth-eaten bookworms," says I, "your stories is prehistoric, and -your lies is relics. Now you want to encourage them pore toorists, -'cause we needs them. Toorists graze out slothful on the trail, they're -noisy to warn their prey, and they flit like bats as soon as a robber -shoots. Send all the toorists you can to tell good advice to Marshal -Hawkins quick. As to the real folks who kin ride and shoot, beguile 'em -to feed, lead 'em up against the fire-water, scatter 'em, delay! This -Marshal needs our help, you blighted sufferers. Do you want the Marshal -to get Jim and pore Curly McCalmont, you idiots?" - -So we scattered to help the Marshal, sending him earnest talkers while -his fighting-men went off and lost themselves. - -Did I act mean? I wonder sometimes whether I done right for Jim, for -Curly. - -Dog-gone Hawkins was as mad as a wet hen, too hoarse for further -comments when, after a couple of hours, he rode off alone to hunt -robbers; so we had to follow to save the old man from being shot. I -came up abreast as soon as I could, and in a voice all hushed into -whispers, he just invoked black saints and little red angels to comfort -me on a grid. - -I reckon it was four o'clock when our circus, all hot and dusty after a -ten-mile ride, charged down upon La Soledad. The place looked so blamed -peaceful that the Marshal stared pop-eyed. - -"Wall, I'll be dog-goned!" says he, and let us riders traffick around -innocent, trampling out all the ground sign. When he saw Cocky's -memorandum on the door of the shack he couldn't bear it any longer. - -"Chalkeye," says he, "I'll be dog-goned if that ain't--'Gawn with the -buckboard for grub.' If that ain't enough to scorch a yaller dawg!" - -"And yet," says I, "you blamed us for hanging back!" - -"Wall," he groaned, "the drinks is on me this time. Let's go home." - -But I knew Jim's handwriting, I knew that he and Curly were with the -buckboard, I knew that the brains of McCalmont himself were behind a -play like this. - -I looked up the Grave City trail, the way to my ranche, the way that the -buckboard had gone with my kids. - -"You may go home, sir," says I, "but I'm off to my home before you -leads me any more astray, corrupting my pure morals." - -Dog-gone Hawkins froze me with his eyes. "Ef your soul," he says, "were -to stray out on to your dog-goned cheek it would get lost!" - -I'm always getting misunderstood like that by people who ought to know -better. You see, I had to shock old Hawkins, or he would notice at once -that I aimed to follow the buckboard. - -"Cyclists," says I, "dawg-traps, sulkies, buggies, waggons, sore-back -horses, mules, tenderfoot--look at yo' circus and say if that ain't -enough to corrupt a long-horn's mortals. Hello, look at that!" - -A man was coming down from the north, lickety-split on a roan with a -rangy stride. He wore sombrero, shirt, shaps with streaming fringes, a -brace of guns to his belt. He rode with a cowboy swing to his broad -shoulders, and his face was black with rage as he pulled up facing our -crowd--guns drawn for war. - -"Boys," he shouted, "whar's yo' sheriff?" - -I followed Hawkins as he rode up to confront the stranger. - -"I'm United States Marshal Hawkins. What's your dog-goned business that -needs drawn guns?" - -"I'm Buck Hennesy, segundo to the Robbers' Roost gang of outlaws, and my -guns are to shoot if I see you flirt that smoothbore." - -"Your business?" - -"State's evidence--take it or leave it!" - -"And who's your dog-goned evidence against?" - -"Against Captain McCalmont, Curly his--his son, and six others, robbers, -and that polecat Jim du Chesnay, of Holy Crawss." - -"Wall, throw down your dog-goned guns, throw up your dog-goned hands, -and say 'Sir' when you dare to address an honest man. Now you get off'n -that horse!" - -"Dog-goned Hawkins," says the robber, "I ain't no prisoner, I ain't yo' -meat, I don't propose to hole up in yo' flea-trap calaboose, and I quit -this hawss when I'm daid. Take my talk for State's evidence, or go -without!" - -"Chalkeye," says the Marshal aside, "is he covered?" - -"Say the word, and I drop him." - -"All right. Now, Hennesy, at the first break you die. You may talk." - -"McCalmont's outfit," says Buck, "is breaking for Holy Crawss. To-morrow -mawning they round up cattle, and then they drive right home to Robbers' -Roost." - -"You're going to guide us, Mr. dog-goned Robber, or get plugged as full -of holes as a dog-goned sieve." - -"Guide you?" says Buck, and spat at him. "Guide you? I wouldn't be seen -daid with yo' tin-horn crowd of measly, bedridden toorists. I cayn't -insult you worse than saying that yo' mother was a sport, yo' father -hung, and their offspring a skunk. Now all you deck of cowards----" - -He let drive with both his guns, but I shot first, and only just in -time. One bullet grazed my ear, the other killed a horse; but my shot -had done its work and spoiled his aim. His eyes rolled up white, his -face went dead, he sat there a corpse in the saddle for maybe a minute, -until I yelled, and the horse shied, and the body lurched forward, -crashing to the ground, splashing a cloud of dust which was red with the -sunset. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -A FLYING HOSPITAL - - -Captain McCalmont, away north on the trail, pulled up at a bend of the -hill. - -"Doc," he called out to the man with the led horse astern, "jest you -hitch that sorrel of mine to the tail of this rig. That's right, my son; -now find out if Buck stays at the skyline or goes buttin' straight back -to the ranche." - -"All right, Cap." - -When he was gone, Curly rucked up the canvas ground-sheet, climbed out -of bed, and nestled against her father's side on the seat. - -"Havin' a bad time?" he asked, as he drove on. - -"Sure." - -"You heard what I told to Buck?" - -"Buck's gawn back to betray the outfit." - -"So I reckon." - -Curly got her father's near arm around her, shivering while she looked -all round at the dusky hills, up to the red of the sunset. Then she -listened to the thud of Doc's horse as he galloped back to report. - -"Cap," says the man, "Buck's gawn straight away to the ranche." - -"That's good," McCalmont chuckled; "you see, Doc, I've sent Buck to lead -that sheriff's posse to Holy Crawss. We've got to work to-night, and -ain't hungering none for their company. D'you know the Jim Crow Mine?" - -"I guess that's the old shaft a mile this side of Grave City?" - -"Correct. Now you lope off to the boys we left in camp at Las Aguas. -Tell Stanley he's second in command now. He's to round up his boys, herd -'em close, and drive 'em swift to the Jim Crow Mine. Now repeat my -awdehs." - -Doc repeated the orders. - -"Now," said the Captain, "ride!" - -Doc started off on the dead run, and for a while Curly watched his -figure flopping away into the blue mists of dusk. The night was falling -fast. - -"Po' Buck," she whispered. - -"I'm sorry, too," says McCalmont; "sooner or later he had to be a skunk, -and behave as such." - -"He's daid," says Curly. "I heard him die just now, and he did love me -so hard." - -"The trail is clearing ahead for you, my girl." - -"I'm sort of tired," she answered. - -"You'll rest to-night." - -"Father when you was talking with Jim outside the shack I was awake; I -heard all what was said, but couldn't understand. Jim wanted suthin' -fearful bad. What was it he wanted, dad?" - -"Wall, now, if that don't beat all! You jest got ears like a lil' fox! -And didn't I act plumb good and tame with that Jim boy?" - -"Which you shorely did. Fancy, you taking all that war-talk, and never -even shooting his laigs. Yo're getting better'n better every day." - -"I was good, that's a fact. You see, I nacherally couldn't lose my -temper without disturbing you with my gun-talk. Besides, I jest cayn't -help loving that Jim. You want him, Curly?" - -"Sure, I don't know what's coming over me the way I feels at that man. -It seems as though my heart was pitchin' and buckin' like a mean hawss -to get at Jim. D'you think it's this wound that tears my heart--is it -'cause I'm so sick?" - -"It's worse nor that, my girl. You've fallen in love." - -"Does that mean I got to marry him?" - -"That's the only cure." - -"But I don't want to be cured. I like it, dad, and when it hurts I like -it all the more." - -"A sure bad symptom that. You'll go with Jim?" - -"To the end of the world, and over the edge--I cayn't help that." - -"You don't love me any more?" - -"Oh, you're allus the same, like the climate--but he's come buttin' -along like the weather, so that I feel as if I was just whirled up in -the air." - -"I was an idiot to think I could fool old Nature, and make you into a -man. Wall, it cayn't be helped." - -"Daddy, I never was fit to ride with the gang, and I doubt I'll never be -fit for a woman, either, now. I'm shorely tired, and my haid goes round -and round." - -McCalmont stopped the team and laid Curly down in her nest. He told me -after that he felt lonesome and scared, with all his nerves a-jumping -for fear there was something worse than usual wrong. He felt Curly's -bandages, and his hand got wet; then listened, and heard a drip, drip, -drip, on the dust, then struck a match and saw the running blood, for -her wound had opened. He had to light a lantern, no matter what the -risk, while he stopped that bleeding. - -Meanwhile the Marshal had started his circus east toward Holy Cross, and -he was having troubles most plentiful with all his warriors. He held us -in the name of the Republic for special service in pursuit of robbers, -but his tenderfoot outfit was badly in want of supper, and the cowboy -people got plumb disgusted at having to ride, point, swing, and drive on -a herd of shorthorns. I'd shown my hand in this game by shooting Buck, -the same being needful to save the old Marshal's life, and I sure helped -him all I knew in getting the posse on towards Holy Crawss. At the same -time my private feelings called me off to quite a different lay-out, and -I knew, all to myself, that Buck might have been mistaken a whole lot -in his way of reckoning up McCalmont's plans. So I fell back to give a -push to some stragglers, then fell back again to see if there was any -more belated pilgrims behind. The light had faded, the stars were -beginning to ride herd on the Milky Way, and I felt a sort of dumb -yearning to find McCalmont. An hour later, scouting swift and cautious -up the Grave City road, I saw a lantern bobbing high up among the hills. -That must be a bait, I thought, to lure the Marshal's posse into some -robbers' deadfall, so I rode slow, and sang my simple range songs to -show it was only me, one harmless person. - - "Ip-e-la-go, go 'long little doggie, - You'll make a beef steer, by-and-by." - -That's the rear song for driving a herd. This is nonsense:-- - - "Two little niggers upstairs in bed-- - One turned ober to de oder and said: - 'How 'bout dat short'nin' bread? - How 'bout dat short'nin' bread?'" - -A voice called out of the dark, "Throw up yo' hands!" - -Up went my paws. "Hello, boys," I shouted, "is this the inquiry office? -I wants my visitin' cyard sent up to Cap McCalmont." - -Somebody laughed, and then I heard Jim's voice. "Why, it's Chalkeye!" - -"Well, if he don't want to be shot he'd better turn right back." - -"Jest you tell yo' hold-ups, Jim," says I, "that them leaden go-through -pills don't suit my delicate health." I dropped my hands, and the first -robber asked Jim if he would answer for me. - -Jim said he would. - -"Take this man through," said the robber, and Jim led me, mighty -pleased, to where the lantern shone. - -"Captain," says he, "here's old Chalkeye!" - -McCalmont jumped down from the buckboard, holding out his lantern. -"Wall," says he, "I'm glad to see ye, Misteh Davies, I certainly -am--shake hearty. Whar you from?" - -"Is Curly with you?" - -"Here's me," came a faint chirp out of the bedding. - -"Her wound broke out agin," says McCalmont. - -"_Her_ wound?" I howled. - -"Wall, that cat is shorely spilled," says McCalmont, and so I knew for -the first time that my Curly wasn't a boy, but come of a different breed -of people altogether. I slid from my horse and sat down on a rock to -unravel my mixed emotions. - -"If that's the truth," I says, "I spose I may turn out to be a widow, -the same being some confusing to the mind." - -"Wall, Mrs. Davies," says McCalmont, "I was goin' to propose that you -act as a sort of chaperon to Curly." - -"I rise to inquire," says I, "if that's some new kind of mountain -sheep." The name was new to me, and I felt suspicious. - -"A mountain sheep," says McCalmont, "is a cimarron, but a chaperon's -defined as a party which rides herd on girls to proteck them in -society." - -"Meaning that this carousing around in a waggon ain't good for wounds?" - -"Not when the hawspital has to gallop over rocks." - -"Seems to me," says I, "that right apart from bullet holes in a lady, -he'll need home comforts more'n an or'nary robber." - -"Kin you take Curly home, then?" - -"I'm getting unpopular," says I. "My home ain't fortified much." I -rolled a cigarette to think with. "Whereas I got some cousins which is -ladies, the Misses Jameson. Their home is just the other side of the Jim -Crow Mine, between that and Grave City, and they has a fancy for stray -cats, dawgs, and outcasts generally. Seems to me, though, they'd be -mighty near surprised if I played a wounded robber on them, calling the -same a female. They ain't broke in to lady outlaws damaged in gun-fights -yet. They're plumb respectable, and frequents the Episcopal Church. The -bishop boards thar when he happens around, and they'll take up with any -litter of passing curates." - -"I'm scart," says Curly. "Cayn't you bed me down in yo' barn?" - -"You'll go whar yo' told," says McCalmont, "and stay put until yo're -well enough to fight." - -"If you're scared, Curly," says I, "these same ladies is due to have -fits at the sight of yo' present costume. Now, if I could show them a -case like you in the Bible they'd think it right natural, and all -correct." - -"Absalom," says Curly, "had long ha'r." - -"So does Buffalo Bill, Texas Bob, and other old longhorns, but the same -ain't lady robbers. Besides, yo' ha'r is short, and you're plumb -unusual." - -"I got a trunk full of female plunder," says McCalmont, "and it's right -here in the buckboard, in case he needs to dress respectable." - -"It's all tawn to rags," said Curly, "from that last b'ar hunt when I -was treed by a grizzly. And the wig got stuck full of pine gum." - -"These details of female dress and depawtment"--McCalmont was getting -restive--"seems to me to be some frivolous. The question is, Do these -yere ladies run much to tongue?" - -"Wall, no; the fashionable society of Grave City has struck them -reticent. Miss Blossom says she'd rather mix up with bears, and Miss -Pansy she allows our crowd lacks tone. No, these ladies don't go -henning around to cackle." - -"That settles it," said McCalmont. "Now you, Jim, you go back and tell -these boys to join the herders in front, and I'll be with you presently. -It ain't decent, my boy, for you to behold what's going to happen in the -way of costume. So you jest tell Curly good-bye, and we'll proceed with -disguisin' her as a womern." - -"When shall I see Curly again?" asks Jim in a fright. - -"At such time when he's fit to ride. Now tell yo' good-bye." - -So Jim and Curly had a minute together while I helped McCalmont to get -out the trunk of clothes. Then Jim rode off for the sake of decency, and -I turned my back. There was arguments between McCalmont and Curly about -how the female costume should be fixed, the parent wanting one side to -the front, and the dutiful child insisting otherwise. When I was told to -look, there was Curly grinning in surroundings of yellow wig, the same -being bunched up behind like a clump of prickly pear. McCalmont rigged -himself out in his preacher clothes, cinched up his sorrel horse at the -tail of the buckboard, and tied his cowboy gear to the strings of the -saddle. He turned to watch Jim and the robbers file past on their way to -the front, then gave me his lantern. - -"My friend," says he, "when you go to the home of them ladies, drive -straight acrost the open range to the back door, be thar befo' midnight, -and if you love yo' life, don't stray out on the waggon road between the -Jim Crow Mine and Grave City. If you do you'll get killed for sure." - -"What shall I do with the buckboard?" - -"Lose it somewheres whar it ain't apt to be found. Turn them team -hawsses loose and let them break for their home, as they shorely will." - -"And when Curly is well of this wound?" - -"Then Jim will join you, and you'll take them children to some safe -country, so that they get mar'ied and forget this life. We planned all -that befo'." - -"You trust me still?" - -"It looks that way, my friend, and I don't trust by halves." - -He gripped my hand, and went loping away into the night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -ROBBERY-UNDER-ARMS - - -In those days of our little unpleasantness in Arizona there was another -discussion proceeding along in South Africa. The Boers had their tail -up, and the British Army was indulging itself in "regrettable incidents" -about once a week. Which I allude to here because the word "regrettable -incident" is good; it's soothing, and it illustrates exactly what -happened on the night when I delivered Curly, damaged but cheerful, -among my cousins, the Misses Jameson. - -Just to the east of the home inhabited by these ladies occurs the Jim -Crow Mine, the same being the very place where the robbers once had -breakfast with old man Ryan, making him pay the bill, as aforesaid, -which was seventy-five thousand dollars, and annoying. - -On this further occasion which I now unfold, there were only four men -working the Jim Crow claim. It seems they were in the bunk house playing -poker until eleven p. m., when their foreman uprose with regrets to -surrender his hat, boots, and pants to an avaricious person holding -three aces and a pair of jacks. The foreman's warm communications on -the subject of cheating were then cut off short by a masked robber -standing in the doorway with guns. This robber proposed that all -gentlemen present should throw up their hands, and allowed they had a -fervent invitation to die unless they stepped out pretty soon to the -head of the Jim Crow shaft. Accordingly the sad procession trailed away -to the shaft, and one by one the mourners went down in a bucket to a -total depth of one hundred and four feet. Then the robber hauled up the -bucket to keep them from straying out, and promised faithful that if he -heard any noise he would just drop in a few sticks of dynamite. There -was not much noise. - -Meanwhile other earnest young robbers were collecting every citizen who -passed the mine, and inviting him to join their surprise-party down at -the foot of the shaft. The citizens all accepted, and when some candles, -a deck of cards, and a few bottles of nose paint were sent to assist, -the levée underground began to get quite a success. - -Mixed in with these proceedings, and other hold-ups various and swift, -was the Chinese cook with a robber holding his tail while he fixed -supper for twenty-five men. Afterwards he likewise was handed down the -shaft. I should also mention a preacher in a black suit, and a white tie -up under his ear, projecting around among the store shed for cases of -dynamite. - -At 12:30 a bunch of cowboys numbering eighteen head, with a cavvyard of -ponies, trailed in off the range. After each man had roped and saddled a -fresh horse, and fed corn to the same, their reverend pastor put out a -relief of sentries, and told the crowd to line up in the rampasture for -supper. - -Naturally these people had to get the provisions off their minds before -there was any talk, but then the preacher reared up to address the -meeting. - -"Brethren----" says he. - -"Look a-here," the new segundo, Black Stanley, started in obstreperous, -backed by a dozen men, all seething. "I represents this outfit in -starting to buck right now!" - -"Turn yo'self loose." - -"We-all has come to an understanding that we ain't agoin' to fool around -here any more. These is mean pastures, and we breaks for home." - -"That's what's the matter!" A lot of robbers began to come to a crisis. - -"Misteh Stanley, seh," says McCalmont, "you air a judge of rye whisky, -and a natural bawn leader of men." - -The boys began to laugh. - -"Now," says McCalmont, "all you boys who yearns to get quit of me, and -have this judge of rye and natural bawn leader of men to be they'r -chief, will arise and join his herd. Yo' hawsses are at the door, so -trail yo' spurs along the floor and go!" - -Not a man moved. - -"You, Black Stanley, take yo'self and yo' followers, and get absent -quick from this camp, 'cause the rest of us has business." - -Stanley, getting to feel a whole lot lonesome, just dropped his tail, -and submitted. "Chief," says he, "I take it all back." - -"I made you my segundo, Stanley, and you've proved yo'self mighty -sudden. I reduce you to the ranks. You, Bowlaigs, act as second in -command. And now to business. - -"First, I want to instil into yo' dim and clouded intellecks that when a -member of the gang is captured he has to be rescued. The captured man -was my son, and seventeen skunks of you hung fire when I asked for his -rescue. These seventeen said skunks is fined half theyr shares of -plunder in the next raiding, the same to be paid to those who do most -work. Second, the man who rescued my son is Jim du Chesnay here." The -Captain laid his hand upon Jim's shoulder. "He is my guest, and as he's -not a member of this or'nary low-flung herd, you don't want to tell him -awdehs, or oppress him, or stuff his haid with any of yo' dreams. I've a -mind to muzzle a few pet liars right now. The speshul liars I see -grinning is the ones I allude to particular. - -"Now you-all is a mighty sight wide of bein' perfect thieves; you has -weaknesses, some for bad liquor, some for small mean thefts, most for -showin' yo'selves off 'sif you was buck-devils, which you shorely ain't. -To-night I propose you fast from such-like vanities, and attend strictly -to business. Moreover, as some of you ain't got no more sense than a -poached cat, I now explains this warpath, lest you get wandering around -after the wrong scalp. The objec' of this virtuous night is to steal a -millionaire which goes by the name of Michael Ryan, and holes up in a -palace cyar on the railroad sidings. If you get him in reasonable -preservation, we realise lots of wealth for his ransom; but any blamed -fool who spoils him with loose ammunition is robbing his partners of -theyr lawful dues." - -And so, having tamed his wolves, McCalmont gave the orders for the -night. - -Right here I bubble over with remarks on the art of being a villain. - -Now this Captain McCalmont wasn't a good man exactly, it being his -humble vocation to steal everything in sight, and shoot any party who -happened to get in the way. He was a sure enough scoundrel, and yet -Curly just loved him frantic. Jim trusted him body and soul. I was -mighty proud of having his friendship. All his wolves were tame as -little children when he led them; every cowboy on the range would have -shared his last drop of water with old McCalmont, and even the victims -he robbed would speak of him mostly as a perfect gentleman. When he -laid a trap that same deadfall looked a whole lot attractive and -comforting. "'Scuse me," says McCalmont, springing the steel jaws on his -victim. I hope yo're not feeling hurt?" - -Now if McCalmont had looked like one of them villains I see at the -theatre, scowling, threatening, lurid, mean-eyed scareheads, he wouldn't -have seen the victim's tail for dust. No, he wasn't like a villain, he -was like a man--a white man at that--and when he gave a show it was -worth any man's money to see. Just watch his play. - -Grave City was a plenty big city to attack; it could turn out three -hundred riders, anyway, and that mighty sudden, too, in case of robbers. -McCalmont had to attack with twenty-four outlaws, and get them away -without any holes through their hides. - -Along towards one in the morning the stable-man at Ryan's livery met -with an accident, being clubbed. Then a couple of men walked round the -stalls, loosed all the horses, and drove the whole outfit away through -the back gate. The same proceedings occurred at the Spur livery, and in -all the large stables, until two hundred head of good stock were -gathered and run off to the northward. - -In Main Street, hitched to the snubbing posts, stood a score of saddled -horses, a waiting patient to take their drunkards home. These poor -creatures were cared for tender by a young man who went along casual, -feeding them each a bunch of dry herbs, the same being _loco_ weed, and -a heaps powerful medicine. Now we turn to the railroad station, where -the main game was being played. - -At one a. m. the night operator in the depôt remembered all of a sudden -that the lady clerk, Miss Brumble, at Contention, had wired him to send -on a parcel of stockings by Number 4. The night freight train was -pulling out at the time, so he ran across the platform and pitched the -parcel into the caboose as the cars went rolling past him. "Miss -Brumble's socks!" says he. - -"All correct!" says the conductor; and the train went rumbling off into -the desert. Then the night operator--which his name was Bowles--turned -round to point back for his office, and suddenly trod on a preacher. - -"Pardon me," says the reverend stranger. - -"Oh, don't mention it," says the clerk, some sarcastic. - -"'Scuse me, seh, may I venture to--" - -"Well, what's the matter with you?" - -"My poor lost brother, I am wishful to be infawmed if Misteh Michael -Ryan----" - -"He's in his car. I'm busy." - -"Oh, but my deah young friend, these profane cowboys are using such -feahful language, because Misteh Ryan refuses to see them, being gawn to -bed----" - -The operator turned on his heel, and turned off growling. - -"You see," the preacher wailed after him, "they've got a robber." - -The operator began to nibble the bait. - -"Robber!" He swung round sudden. "What robber?" - -"The erring young person is called James du Chesnay." - -"They've got him? Great snakes!" - -"Yes, in bondage. They want to be rewarded with earthly dross, instead -of seeking for the blessings and comfort which alone----" - -"And Ryan won't come out?" - -"I think, seh, that Misteh Ryan is timid, bekase of the shocking -profanity of these misguided men, breaking his windows, too. Let me -admonish you, my brother, to eschew the company of all----" - -"I'll fix him," says the operator, and charged along down the platform -with the preacher suffering after him. - -That night operator, Mr. Mose Bowles, surging along the platform to -Ryan's car, would have bet his last dollar that the facts were true. He -saw three sure-enough cowboys sitting their horses easy in front of the -private car, and the preacher was plumb correct about the way they -talked. Bowles saw the prisoner, bound hand and foot, on a led horse, -and that was Jim beyond all doubt, looking plenty discouraged. Bowles -knew that Ryan had offered rewards most bounteous for Jim's body; he -hungered for a portion of the plunder, and when he swung himself up the -platform on the end of the car his batterings on the door was full of -enthusiasm. - -"I feah," says the preacher, "that yo're spoiling the paint. Take -thought, my friend, how expensive is paint like that!" - -The cowboys were backing their horses away beyond range of the car -lamps, out of sight. - -"Mr. Ryan!" Bowles shouted, "urgent telegrams! Come out!" - -A nigger porter slid open an inch of the door. "You go way," says he; -"Mass' Ryan he plumb distrackful. Go 'way." - -"Let me in, you fool!" - -Bowles wrenched the door wide open, and jumped into the car; then there -were mutterings and voices, the lighting up of the far end of the -Pullman; and after a while came a fat young man bustling out on the -platform. He wore a fur coat, bare legs, and slippers, cussing around -most peevish. - -"'Scuse me," says the preacher, "I am an unworthy minister, a 'Ticular -Baptist, and I could not heah the feahful profanity of these rude men -without shedding tears. May I esco't you, seh, to see this prisoner?" - -Bowles and the negro stood on the car platform watching, while the -preacher led Ryan off into starlight. - -"My heart quakes at the feah that these cowboys have gawn away. Please -step this way--and 'ware stumbling on these sidings--this way, Misteh -Ryan--this way----" - -The voice died away, and Bowles was putting out to follow, when all of a -sudden he and the negro were seized from behind, gagged, roped, and -generally detained. Off among the sidings Mr. Ryan had a gag in his -mouth, a rope round his elbows; then felt himself caught up into the -starlight and thrown on a horse while his feet were hobbled under the -animal's belly. In the station a robber was playing tunes with an axe on -the keys of the telegraph, and the wires were being lopped with a pair -of shears. Speaking generally, a whole lot of silence was being -procured, and from a robber point of view things worked harmonious until -the first bunch of riders went thundering away into the desert. - -As it happened, the City Marshal and his deputy, Shorty Broach, straying -into these premises to send off a telegram, found the operator and the -negro lying gagged and bound on the platform; so when they heard the -robbers loping off they sized up the whole situation. They were just too -late to get robbers, but plenty swift in turning out the town. - -This news of a fresh outrage hit old Grave City sudden, surprising, -right in the middle of sleep time, and the whole town swarmed out -instant like a hornets' nest for war. Some of the people were full of -sleep, others were full of whisky; some had their war-paint, some had a -blanket; but all of them felt they were spat on, all of them howled for -vengeance. For a whole week the town tribe and the range tribe had been -at war, and here was some idiot making a howl about robbers! This was -certainly another case of cowboys in town, and the verdict was -sudden--to lynch the cowboy leader, Mr. Chalkeye Davies. - -It being some expedient first to catch this Chalkeye, these warriors -began to make haste and get mounted for pursuit. But from the first -things seemed to go wrong, for one after another the horses which had -been standing in the street went jumping roaring crazy, pulling back -till their reins broke, bucking off their saddles, whirling around the -town, and stampeding away to the desert. The people saw that _loco_ weed -had been prevailing over the plain sense of these animals; then they -found the stables an aching solitude, and the telegraph wrecked to -prevent them calling for help, and everything done thoughtful and -considerate by felonious parties unknown who had stolen the only -millionaire in Arizona. Soon they remembered there had been a whole lot -of unpleasantness between Mr. Ryan and Chalkeye. Thus the more they -considered, the more their noses went sideways of the truth, smelling -the poisonous iniquities of this Chalkeye outlaw. - -The town was left afoot, and yet from private stables horses were raked -up, enough to mount a posse of thirty men. By this time it was too late -to chase, but the Marshal reckoned that, with a shine of bicycle lamps, -he could track until daylight, and keep on the robbers' trail until he -got more help. He never ruminated on the thoughtful, prophetic way in -which these motions were foreseen. Just abreast of the Jim Crow Mine the -leading horse of that posse blew up with a loud bang, and Shorty Broach -was projected into a prickly-pear bush. That is how he got his new -pseudonym, which is Pincushion Shorty to the present day. On the whole -that posse concluded to go home rather than face a pavement of live -dynamite. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -A HOUSE OF REFUGE - - -Looking back upon the whole discussion between the du Chesnay and Ryan -families, I see myself sitting around meek and patient, shy, timid, -cautious, and fearfully good, and yet I got all the blame. Of course, I -ought to have shot old man Ryan, just as an early precaution, so it's -best to own up that I was all in the wrong for dallying. But after that, -there was the massacre of the leading Grave City felons; I got the -blame. Next came the hunting and escape of Curly and Jim; I got the -blame. Furthermore, there was the flight of Curly and Jim from La Morita -prison, followed by business transactions with the Frontier Guards; I -got the blame. And, moreover, there was the sliding out of Curly, Jim, -and the robbers from Cocky Brown's ranche at La Soledad, with certain -vain pursuits by a posse of citizens; I got the blame. Lastly, there was -the stealing of all the horses and a millionaire out of Grave City; I -got the blame. Whatever happened, I always got the blame. It's plumb -ridiculous. - -Now, taking this last case, what ground is there for supposing that I -helped McCalmont's robbers? My movements all that night were innocent -and unobtrusive travels. When Dog-gone Hawkins went off with his -tenderfoot posse to hunt ghosts, I naturally slid out for home. So I met -up with McCalmont, took charge of Cocky Brown's old buckboard, and -delivered Curly at the back door of my cousins, the Misses Jameson. -These ladies had to hear a whole lot which was pretty near true about -poor Curly, and that consumed some time. Afterwards they got scared all -to fits by rushes of horsemen, dynamite explosions, and such diverting -incidents, ending with the arrival of Shorty Broach to have his prickles -pulled. Through this disturbance I hid up with Curly in a cellar, and -when there was peace drove off alone, with my saddled horse tied behind -the buckboard. After an hour's search, I found the old Coeur d'Alene -Mine shaft, and tipped the buckboard in, turning the team horses loose -to graze their way back to La Soledad. My duties being all performed, I -rode back just before dawn to my own home pasture at Las Salinas. There -is the whole annals of a virtuous night, and yet these Grave City idiots -defamed my character, which it makes me sick. - -There's a habit which I caught from the old patrone at Holy Cross, the -same being to have a cold bath. Our Arizona water is mostly too rich for -bathing, being made of mud, cow-dung, alkali, and snakes; but at Las -Salinas I owned a little spring, quite good for washing and such -emergencies. After my bath I felt skittish, a whole lot younger than -usual, full of aching memories about getting no supper last night, and -pleased all to pieces to hear the breakfast-howl. These symptoms being -observed, Custer proposed at once that I pay up the overdue wages, and -Ute backed his play, grinning ugly. As for Monte, he was chipped in the -face with a recent bullet, and squatted heaps thoughtful over his pork -and beans. - -"So you-all wants yo' pay?" - -They agreed that they did, and Custer passed me the biggest cup for my -coffee. - -"All right, you tigers," says I, "after this grub-pile we'll cyclone -into town and catch what I've got in the bank." - -"I ain't no tiger this time," says Ute. "Why, yesterday I just rode up -street to collect my washing, and the weather was a lot too prevalent." - -"Rain?" says I. "You shorely didn't have rain!" - -"Wall, it splashed up the dust all around me, it did that," says Ute, -"but I sorter mistook it for bullets." - -Then those boys allowed that we was getting some unpopular in town, but -they had a gnawing awful pain in their pants pockets, and nothing would -cure that but wages. They were sure good boys, and it made me ache -inside to see them want. - -"You boys," says I, "spose you collect these here wages yo'selves and -make yo're own settlement?" - -"As how?" this Ute inquires, his homely face twisting around into -strange new species of grins. - -"Why, you-all knows every hawss I got, and has yo' notions of value. -Jest you whirl right in, boys, and take what's coming to you in hawsses -instead of cash. Pay yo'selves liberal, and I'll sign the bills." - -"Shame!" says Monte. "D'ye think we'd take yo' pets?" - -In the end we agreed to go into partnership, the which we did, for those -boys were as good as brothers from the moment I got into trouble. Monte -is my partner still. - -Now, in course of these details, while we sat smoking cigarettes around -the door of the cabin, we saw a sort of dust-cloud come rolling along -out of the city. - -"Which reminds me," says Ute, "that the Grave City stranglers was -proposing yesterday to come and hold a social gathering here. Mr. -Davies, they's aiming to hang you some." - -We rolled the rain-barrels into the house, we toted bales of hay for -barricades, and led our saddle-horses into cover; then put in the rest -of our time filling the water-butts. In all we had forty minutes to -prepare for our guests, but wanted a whole lot more. - -"You, Chalkeye," says young Monte in his thoughtful way, "you can talk -the hind leg off a mule. Spose you make big war medicine to these here -strangers until we're ready." - -Custer had got joyful, as he always did when there was trouble coming, -making little yelps of bliss. - -"Don't talk them off the range," says he, "or we'll get no fight." - -Ute, he lay low, saying nothing, but he sure grinned volumes while he -whirled in with his axe, cutting twelve loopholes through the 'dobe -walls. I told Custer to break a hole in the roof and get up there quick, -because the parapet had rain-spouts most convenient for shooting. Monte -was laying out the ammunition, I was spreading wet blankets over the hay -barricade in the front doorway, and then the Vigilance Committee came -slanting down for battle. - -Seeing that Grave City was shy of horseflesh that morning, these people -had done their best with thirty head, using them to haul waggons and -buckboards full of men. Only the chairman was in the saddle, he being -old Mutiny Robertson, who wanted to buy my ranche and not to burn it. I -ought to mention that this gentleman was a Cherokee Indian by birth, a -white man by nature, and some time a robber himself. He knew what sort -of lightning had struck Grave City during the night, but his feelings -did him credit and kept his mouth shut. As chief of the Vigilantes he -had to go against all his natural instincts, but still he acted hostile -and looked dangerous, leading his men until he came up against my door. - -"You, Chalkeye!" he shouted. - -I put up my head behind the barricade in the doorway. - -"Wall," says I, "this compliment, gentlemen, throws my tail high with -pride. Put yo' hawsses in the barn while I fix the breakfast." - -"These barricades," says Mutiny, "is intended hawspitable--eh, -Chalkeye?" - -"Which," says I, "they're raised in celebration of my thirty-third -birthday as a token of innocent joy." - -"Seems to me," he responds, "that this yere day is apt to be remembered -hereaways as the anniversary of yo' quitting out of from this mortal -life." - -"These predictions of yours," says I "is rude." - -"You're due to die some, right now"--he poked his gun. "Come out!" - -"I remarks," says I, "on general principles that you all has come to -mourn at the wrong funeral. My obsequies is postponed indefinite." - -"Now, Chalkeye," says he, "it's no use arguing, so you want to come out -like a man. We're full prepared to give you a decent turn-off, and a -handsome funeral." - -"I'm sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen, but I has other engagements, -and this is my busy day." - -I listened to my boys getting ready. "Keep them amused," says Monte; -"we need three more loopholes." - -"If you don't come out," says Mutiny, "there's going to be trouble, -'cause we're gettin' tired." - -"Wall, Mutiny, I'd shorely admire to know some trifling details first, -'cause you've aroused my interest in this yere celebration. Why for is -my neck so much in need of stretching?" - -"This yere is frivolous argument," says he; "we-all is here to hang you, -not to waste time in debates." - -"You has my sympathy," says I, "and I shares yo' poignant feelings about -not wasting time. What's the use of a necktie social without an -appropriate victim? Now thar's young Mose Bowles beside you--which I -don't like the look of his neck, the same being much too short for a -stand-off collar. What's the matter with hanging Moses Bowles?" - -"Come out," says Mose, "or we'll burn your den, you horse-thief!" - -"Bein' possessed of genius, Moses, you'll now proceed to set my 'dobe -home in flames. The glare of yo' fierce eye is enough to burn brick -walls." - -A bullet whizzed past my ear, and I got mad. - -"Ready!" yelled Monte. "Give the word, and we fire." - -"And now," says I, "you innocent pilgrims, you've given me heaps of time -to get my twelve men ready. You've got three men in yo' posse who could -hit a house from inside, the rest being as gun-shy as a school of girls. -I've got a bullet-proof fort with the twelve best shots in Arizona, and -if you don't get absent quick I'll splash yo' blood as high as the -clouds. I give you two minutes to get out of range." - -The weaker men began to rabbit, the best of them saw a whole row of -loopholes with projecting guns, the leaders were holding a council of -war. - -"One minute!" says I, then turned to shout to my garrison. "Men on the -roof, pick out the leaders to kill when I give the word! Men on the -right, shoot all hawsses you can, or them reptiles is due to escape! Men -on the left, attend to Mutiny! Ninety seconds! Ninety-five seconds!" - -Half the Grave City crowd was stampeding for the waggons, the rest were -scared of getting left afoot. - -"One hundred seconds!" Mutiny's counsellors were breaking for cover. -"One hundred'n five! ten--ten more seconds----" Mutiny turned and -bolted. "One--two--three--when I give the word--ready--Fire!" - -We sprinkled the tails of the Stranglers until there was nothing to see -but smoke and dust. Nobody stayed to get hurt. - -My cousins the two Misses Jameson admit right free and candid that my -past life is plumb deplorable, that my present example would corrupt -the morals of a penitentiary, and that my future state is due to be -disagreeable in a place too hot to be mentioned. They remark that my -face is homely enough to scare cats, that my manners and customs are -horrid, that my remarks are a whole lot inaccurate, and that most of my -property is stolen goods. At the same time, they say that I'm nice, and -there I agree with them. My face may not amount to being pretty, my -virtues haven't reached the level of bigotry, but I feel in my bones -that I'm a sure nice man. Being nice, I aim to be liked, I hunger for -popularity, and that is just where I blame the Grave City Stranglers. -I've been misunderstood, I've not been appreciated, but why should I be -taken out and lynched? It's plumb ridiculous! - -Now I don't claim that I had any mission to reform the morals of the -Vigilance Committee--which they have none--or to correct their views, -the same being a whole lot steeped in error; neither would it be right -for me to encourage them in the evil work of stretching my neck on a -rope, or to lead them into the temptation of shooting me any more. When -one gets disliked and discouraged by the hostile acts of mean people, -one needs to have presence of mind and plenty absence of body. Wherefore -I did right in rounding up all my livestock, and quitting a locality -where my peace of mind was disturbed with ropes, gunfire, and other evil -communications. I took my riders and my herd away north, to where we -could graze peaceful and virtuous amid the untroubled solitudes of the -Superstitious Mountains. - -There was work to do, a drive of a hundred and seventy miles with -slow-moving stock, then scouting for water and feed on the new pasture, -a permanent camp to make, and much besides which filled up four good -weeks. Afterwards I tracked a mountain sheep up to the bare heights, -where all the rock was glazed with lightning, and the desert lay below -me. I sat on my tail to think, feeling lonesome then, looking east -toward Texas and wondering if my poor old mother was still alive. -Westward the sun was setting, and that way lay the great Pacific Ocean, -bigger than all the plains, where the ships rode herd upon their drove -of whales--I wanted to see that too. But then I looked south-east, the -way I had come, through valleys of scrub and cactus; there, somewheres -beyond the hills, was my little ranch, and all the good pasture away to -Holy Cross. My heart was crying inside me, but I didn't know what I -wanted until I thought of Curly. Sure enough I wanted her most of all. - -Next morning I told all my boys good-bye, and streaked off to go see -Curly. I rode till dusk and camped with Texas Bob, a friend of mine who -told me I was sure enough idiot for getting outlawed. Next evening I -came to the house where my cousins lived, and crept in the dusk to -scratch at their back door. - -I found Miss Blossom Jameson all in a bustle as usual, which looked -mighty natural. She was in the backyard feeding supper to her horse, and -that poor victim leaned up against the fence to groan. There were -cornstalks in it, cabbage-leaves, lettuce-leaves, tea-leaves, and some -relics of ham and eggs. - -"Now jest you sail right in, Mr. Hawss, and don't act wasteful, or -you'll go without!" - -Mr. Horse took a snuff at the mess, then backed away disgusted. - -"Well, if that don't beat all! Now, you Hawss, you don't want to eat the -flower-beds, or you'll get murdered!" - -Mr. Horse turned his back and sulked. - -"There! That's what I call a mean spirit, and I'm goin' to lock you up, -you and your supper, till one of the two gets eaten--I don't care -which!" So the lady chased Mr. Horse into the barn, and threw the -pig-feed in after him. "I'll larn you to know what's good," says she, -and slammed the door on his tail. - -"Well!"--she stood with her back to the door, and threw up her nose at -the sight of me--"I du wonder," says she, "that you dare to show yo' -wicked face!" - -I allowed that my good face was getting a bit mended since our last -encounter. "How's my kid?" says I. - -"Yo' savage, you mean. Now don't you say you've brought pet tigers this -time, or tame dragons, 'cause I'll have no more strays at all." - -"I've got a roan hawss here who's run a hundred miles since daybreak." - -"Bring him in, then." - -"He says he's a vegetarian, and cayn't eat ham and eggs." - -"I don't care," says Miss Blossom; "we killed our pig to-day, and the -slops has just got to be eaten. Waste is ruin." - -"My hawss says he'll eat the slops, ma'am, if he can have a drink of -whisky along with supper." - -"Huh! so you want your vile debaucheries in spite of all I've told you -against drink. Well, I 'spose you'll have it." - -She ran off to fetch the liquor, which gave me time to bury her salad in -the manure heap, and get a decent feed of cornstalks down from the loft. -Then I used the whisky to rub down my weary horse, the same being -medicine both for man and beast. I had some myself, while Miss Blossom -stood by, talking of wicked waste, and how Curly had been neglected. - -"Why, she's mo' like a man than a girl!" - -"'Spose, ma'am," says I, "that you'd been working in a stable and got -shot, then run into gaol, and pulled out through a hole in the wall, and -doctored by a robber, and chased around the hills----" - -"My habits are set," says Miss Blossom, "so I cayn't suppose any such -thing. But that wig of Curly's, that skirt, those--now did yo' robber -baron steal those things off a scarecrow, or did they grow by -themselves?" - -Then she grabbed my hands. "Thar," says she, "that's off my mind, so -don't look worried. The dear little soul, she's the bravest, sweetest -thing--and the way she bore all that pain! Why, you or any other man -would have set around cursing all day and groaning all night, but -Curly--why, she never even whimpered. Now I ask you, is it possible she -shot those two men? I cayn't believe a word, so it's no use your -talking." - -"Was Miss Pansy very much scart with Curly's talk?" - -"Miss Pansy, my good man, is a fool, although I say it. Of all the -romantic nonsense and sentimental--but thar, she writes poetry, my dear, -and that accounts for her. Why, if I hadn't locked her up in her room, -that woman would have sent off a poem, all about lady outlaws, to the -New York _Sunday Companion_. I burned the stuff, and she had to go off -in hysterics. Shucks! She puts Curly off to sleep every night with her -fool poems--and such trash! Now there she is, with her glue-glue harp -singing to Curly. If she don't beat cats! You listen." - -Away off in the house I could hear Miss Pansy's thin little voice and -glue-glue harp; I thought it sounded fine. - - "Lost, stole, or strayed on Tuesday night, - The finder tries to hide it-- - A woman's heart--he has no right, - For there's a Love inside it. - - "The owner fears 'twas snatched away, - But this is a reminder, - That she is quite prepared to pay - One half, with thanks, to finder." - -Miss Blossom led me to the house. "You come right into the -settin'-room," says she, "and keep yo' tearing spurs off my new carpet." - -I did my best about the spurs, but it would take an Indian scout to find -a safe trail across that parlour floor, the same being cluttered up with -little fool tables. These same tables were of different breeds, -three-legged, two-legged, one-legged, tumble-over, all-to-pieces, -trip-you-up, and smash-the-crockery, so it was a sure treat to watch -Miss Pansy curving around without the slightest accident. Her paws were -folded in front, her tail came swishing behind, her head came pecking -along hen-fashion, and her smile was sweet enough to give me toothache. - -"Oh," she bubbled, "I'm so glad you didn't get lynched by those horrid -men who never wash themselves, or think of serious things; and it's so -nice to see you looking so brown with that beautiful cherry silk -kerchief round yo' neck, and the wonderful leather leggings, and that -dreadful revolver, so picturesque, so----" - -"You're making a fool of yo'self," says Miss Blossom, "and the man wants -feeding. Picturesque! Bosh! Shoo!" She chased Miss Pansy out of the -room. - -As to Curly, she lay on the sofa kicking high with joy. "Chalkeye," she -howled, "you ole hoss-thief, keep yo' tearin' spurs off my new cyarpet. -You picturesque, beautiful, leather-faced, cock-eyed robber! 'Ware -tables, or they'll bite yo' laigs! Oh, gimme yo' paw to shake, and throw -me a cigarette. Look out--that chair's goin' to buck!" - -I sat on the edge of the chair, and grabbed her hand while she called me -all sorts of pet names. Then it seems that Miss Pansy broke loose from -Miss Blossom, and came surging back, for she heard the pet names, and -shrieked-- - -"Oh! oh! Stop! What frightful language! Oh, please, if you're a -lady--remember! Oh, Misteh Davies, you mustn't let her smoke!" - -"Curly," says I, "you're shot, and you got to be good in a small voice, -or----" - -"Good," says Curly; "I'm a wolf. I come from Bitter Creek. The higher -up, the worse the waters, and I'm from the source, and it's my night to -how-w-l. Yow-ow-ow!" - -"Well," Miss Pansy shrieked, "I call it disgraceful, so there!" - -"I don't care," says Curly. "I won't be good in a small voice, and I'll -call this dear ole hoss-thief all the names I please. Why, Chalkeye and -me punched cows at Holy Cross! Say, Chalkeye, d'you remember when I -stuck burrs in under yo' saddle, and you got pitched to glory? Why, -that's the very old hat I shot full of holes, and oh, I do enjoy to see -you so much, you dear ole villain!" - -Then Miss Blossom dragged Miss Pansy away to cook supper, and Curly -settled down with her little paw in my fist. - -"My habits," says she, "is a sure scandal, and I ain't got no more -manners nor a bear. My language ain't becoming to a young gentlewoman, -and my eating would disgrace a pinto hawss. They cayn't refawm me a lil' -bit, and when I tries to set up on my tail, and look pretty, they tell -me rebukes for crossin' my laigs like a cowboy. Oh, take me away, ole -Chalkeye, take me away to the range and the camps, to feel the -night-frosts agin, to sleep with the stars, to see the sun come up, to -ride in the heat. This roof sets down on me at night. I cayn't see for -walls; I cayn't get air to breathe. These ladies has roped me, and -thrown me, tied down for branding, ears in the dust. Oh, take me away -from this!" - -"When that bandage is off yo' arm I'll take you, Curly." - -"Not till then?" - -She had scarcely strength yet to travel, and yet if she fretted like -this at being shut up in a house, would she ever get well at all? - -When I reflect what Curly looked like then it makes me wonder what sort -of raging lunatic I had been to leave her in that house. By way of -disguise she had a wig all sideways, and female clothes which she'd -never learned to wear. They made her look like a man. Her skin had the -desert tan; she moved and talked like a cowboy. But most of all, her -eyes gave her dead away--the steel-blue eyes of a scout, more used to -gun-fights than to needlework, which bored right through me. Only a -frontiersman has eyes like that; only the outlaw has the haunted look -which comes with slaying of men, and Curly was branded that way beyond -mistake. - -This poor child was wanted as McCalmont's son, hunted like a wild beast, -with a price on her head for murder and for robbery under arms. And yet -she was a woman! - -"Say, Curly," I asked, "what has these ladies done to account for yo' -being here in theyr home?" - -She reached to a table, and gave me cuttings from the _Weekly Obituary_. -I fell to reading these:-- - -The burial of Buck Hennesy at La Soledad. - -Dog-gone Hawkins' report of not finding robbers. - -The rescue of McCalmont's prisoners out of the Jim Crow shaft, and the -story of the posse which tracked the robbers north until the signs -scattered out all over the country and every trace was lost. - -The attempt of the Stranglers to lynch a horse-thief at Las Salinas, the -same being me. - -Then came a paragraph about a young lady staying at the home of the -Misses Jameson. - - "We are informed that Miss Hilda Jameson, of Norfolk, Va., arrived - last week on a visit to her aunts, the Misses Jameson. We regret to - hear that on her journey westward this young lady met with an - unfortunate accident, being severely bruised on the arm by the fall - of a valise out of an upper bunk in the sleeping-car. This bruise - has developed a formidable abscess, which the Misses Jameson are - treating by the peculiar methods of Christian Science, of which - craze they are well-known exponents. For our part we would suggest - the calling in of a doctor; but as these ladies are way-up experts - at nursing, we trust that their efforts will be successful, and - that in a few days more we shall see the young lady around, - enjoying all the pleasures of Grave City society. In the meantime - Miss Blossom Jameson wishes us to say that the patient needs - absolute quiet, and friends are requested not to call at the house - until further notice." - -"As to the pleasures of Grave City sassiety," says Curly, "I'm plumb fed -up already. 'Spose they dream that I'll go back to shoveling manure in -that stable?" - -I asked her if there had been any visitors at the house. - -"They came every day to inquire, and Miss Blossom insulted them regular -in the front yard. Now they've quit." - -"But nobody saw these ladies meeting a guest at the train." - -"No, but you should hear Miss Blossom telling lies out thar in the yard! -She's surely an artist." - -"Curly," says I, "pull that wig straight, and hide up that scar on yo' -brow. Cayn't you even pretend to act like a lady?" - -"Like a woman, you mean." - -"You're not safe--you'll be seen by some gossip through the window. -You'd ought to hole up in the bedroom." - -"And choke? I'd as lief get choked with a rope." - -"Think of the risk!" - -"I reckon a little excitement keeps me from feelin' dull. Now don't you -look so solemn--with yo' eye like a poached aig, or I'll throw my wig at -you-all. Say, Chalkeye, d'you cal'late the Lawd made them two old ladies -vicious?" - -"Why for?" - -"Looks to me 'sif they was bawn broke in, and raised gentle, with lil' -lace caps on they'r haids, and mittens on they'r pasterns. I been -thinking fearful hard, tryin' to just imagine Miss Pansy bad; spose she -was to kick, or strike, or rair up, or buck, or pitch, or sunfish around -to kill! And Miss Blossom, she only makes-believe to be dangerous to -hide up her soft ole heart. Are real ladies all like that?" - -"Well, usual they don't bite." - -"I was raised wild"--Curly lay back tired--"my tribe are the young -wolves, and I reckon when the Lawd was serving out goodness, He was sort -of 'shamed lest we'd claim our share. He must be plumb busy, too, with -His own people telling Him they'r prayers. Why, these two ladies -requires whole heaps of attention. I allow theyr souls must have got out -of order a lot, 'cause they has to put in enough supplications to save a -whole cow camp entire. They're so plumb talkative that a-way that I -cayn't get a prayer in edgeways." - -She was getting tired and sleepy, so I sat quiet, watching. Then -somebody came outside, hammering the front door, and I pulled my gun to -be ready in case of trouble. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE SAVING OF CURLY - - -Miss Blossom was at the front door having great arguments with a man. - -"If you got baby carriages to sell," says she, "I claim to be a -spinster, and if it's lightning-rods, I don't hold with obstructing -Providence. If it's insurance, or books, or pianolas, or dress patterns, -or mowing machines, you'd better just go home. I'm proof against agents -of all sorts, I'm not at home to visitors, and I don't feed tramps. Thar -now, you just clear out." - -"'Scuse me, ma'am, I----" - -"No, you mayn't." - -"Allow me to introduce----" - -"No you don't. You come to the wrong house for that." - -"Wall, I'm blessed if----" - -"Yo're much more apt to get bit by my dawg, 'cause yo' breath smells of -liquor, and I'm engaged." - -"Glad to hear it, ma'am. I congratulate the happy gentleman you've -chosen." - -"Well, of all the impudence!" - -"That's what my wife says--impudence. Will the dawg bite if I inquire -for Misteh Curly McCalmont?" - -My blood went to ice, and I reckon Miss Blossom collapsed a whole lot to -judge by the bang where she lit. - -"Wall, since yo're so kind, ma'am, I'll just step in." - -I heard him step in. - -"This way!" the lady was gasping for breath. - -"The dining-room? Wall, now, this is shorely the purtiest room, and I do -just admire to see sech flowers!" - -Miss Blossom came cat-foot to shut the parlour door, and I heard no -more. - -Curly was changing the cartridges in her revolver, as she always did -every evening. - -"Scared?" she inquired, sort of sarcastic about the nose. - -"Shut yo' haid. D'you want to be captured?" - -"It would be a sort of relief from being so lady-like." - -Then a big gust of laughter shook the house, and I knew that Miss -Blossom's guest was the whitest man on the stock-range, Sheriff Bryant. -Naturally I had to go and see old Dick, so I told Curly to keep good, -quit the parlour, crossed the passage, and walked right into the -dining-room, one hand on my gun and the other thrown up for peace. - -Dick played up in the Indian sign talk: "Long time between drinks." - -"Thirsty land," says my hand. - -"Now may I inquire?" says Miss Blossom. - -"Wall, ma'am"--old Dick cocked his grey eye sideways--"this Chalkeye -person remarked that he languished for some whisky, upon which I rebuked -him for projecting his drunken ambitions into a lady's presence." - -The way he subdued Miss Blossom was plenty wondrous, for she lit out to -find him the bottle. - -"Sheriff," says I, as we shook hands, "yo' servant, seh." - -"I left the sheriff part of me in my own pastures." Dick wrung my hand -limp. "I don't aim to ride herd on the local criminals heah, so the -hatchet is buried, and the chiefs get nose-paint. Miss Blossom, ma'am, -we only aspire to drink to the toast of beauty." He filled up generous. -"I look towards you, ma'am." - -"I du despise a flatterer," says Miss Blossom, but I saw her blush. - -"Wall, to resume," said Dick, "this lady's guest, Miss Hilda Jameson, of -Norfolk, in old Virginie, is entitled to her own habits. She is wounded -most unfortunate all day, but all night she's entitled to bulge around -in a free country studying moonlight effects." - -"She's due to be whipped," says Miss Blossom, mighty wrathful. - -"On scenes of domestic bliss it is not my purpose, ma'am, to intrude. I -only allude to the fact that this young lady was pervading Main Street -late last night, happy and innocent, in a gale of wind, which it blew -off her hat." - -"Good gracious!" - -"Yes, ma'am; and naturally the hat being pinned, her hair was blown off -too." - -"It blew off!" - -"Perhaps, ma'am, this ha'r doesn't fit, and the best thing would be to -shoot the party who made--the ornament. The young lady, of co'se, was in -no way to blame if it flew down the street and she after it. I rise to -observe that Deputy-Marshal Pedersen, being a modest man, was shocked -most dreadful, and----" - -"Oh! Oh!" Miss Blossom went white as the tablecloth. - -"Go on," said I, "let's know the worst at once." - -"And he couldn't stay to help the young lady, 'cause he was running to -catch the midnight train." - -"Thank goodness!" - -"Yes, ma'am, he was due in Lordsburgh this mawning to collect a -hoss-thief." - -"And nobody else saw the wig?" - -"No, ma'am, only Pedersen. He came whirling down on me this mawning at -Lordsburgh with dreams and visions about a robber chasing a wig, and a -lady holed up in yo' home, and the same being disguised as a woman, but -really a man, and wanting two thousand dollars daid or alive for the wig -which its name was Curly. He seemed a heap confused and unreliable." - -"This Pedersen man," says Miss Blossom, "is coming here to arrest -_her_--I mean _him_! Oh, what's the use of talking! Speak, man! Speak!" - -"Deputy-Marshal Pedersen, ma'am, is now in prison." - -"Arrested!" - -"Why, sheriff," says I, "what has he done to get arrested?" - -"I dunno." Dick shook his grey head mournful. "I forget. I had to exceed -my authority a whole lot, so the first thing I thought of was 'bigamy -and confusion of mind.' I reckon I'll have to apologise, and he's a -low-flung crawler to beg pardon to." - -"You'll have to let him out?" - -"I shorely will; meanwhile he's thinking of all his sins, and he -certainly looks like a Mormon. He never combs his ha'r. But then, you -see, I had to keep his paws off these honourable ladies until I could -bring some sort of warning heah. Besides if this pusson with a wig is -really pore Curly McCalmont, I feel that I done right." - -"What makes you think that, Bryant?" - -"Wall, I happen to know that them witnesses in the Ryan inquest here -was bribed to swear away the life of old Balshannon's son. The hull -blamed business stinks of perjury. I may be wrong, you one-eyed fraud, -but when Curly punched cows with you at Holy Crawss I sort of hungered -for him. You see, my missus and me couldn't compass a son of our own, -and we just wanted Curly. When he quit out from you-all, we tried to -catch him, but he broke away. Then came the big shooting-match, six -weeks ago, and it broke my ole woman's heart. Thar was the lady gawn -daid, and Balshannon quits out in the gun smoke, and you and the two -youngsters outlawed for trying to save him. That's how I reads the signs -on this big war-trail, and being only a crazy old plainsman, I takes the -weaker side." - -He reached out his paw. - -"Put her thar, you one-eyed hoss-thief, and you'll know that there's one -official in this hull corrupt and filthy outfit who cares for justice -more'n he cares for law." - -With warrants out against me on various charges, and the Grave City -Stranglers yearning to make me a corpse, I had come on this visit -feeling plenty bashful, so it was good to have a genuine county sheriff -acting chaperon. The ladies gave us a great sufficiency of supper, and -then we made Curly swear faithfully not to go hunting wigs in the -moonlit streets. Afterwards the ladies went to roost, and we two men, -having tracked out to tend the horses, made down our beds in the barn -loft. - -Next morning my natural modesty, and certain remarks from the sheriff, -made me hide up out of sight, but Bryant went to town and did my -shopping. He bought me an iron-grey gelding, which I'd always longed to -steal, because he was much too good for the tenderfoot doctor who owned -him. It shocked my frugal mind to pay a hundred dollars cash, but Bryant -was liberal with my money, and the horse was worth a hundred and fifty, -anyhow. He got me a second-handed saddle, snaffle, rope, blanket, a -dandy pair of shaps (leather armour for the legs), spurs, belt, shirt, -overalls, boots, sombrero, and all cowboy fixings. If I was to take -young Curly back to Robbers' Roost, she needed a proper trousseau, -specially being due to meet Jim. - -I hate to put up dull particulars, but I ought to mention that Mutiny -Robertson had located a good showing of silver, the second east -extension of the Contention Mine, on my land at Las Salinas. That is why -for he put up six thousand dollars cash for my water-spring, fencing, -and adobe house, getting clear title to the land which held his mineral -rights. It grieves me to think of Mutiny grabbing all his present wealth -because I couldn't hold down that place without being lynched. Such is -the fruits of getting unpopular, and I might preach a plenty improving -sermon on the uncertainties of business, the immorality of being found -out, the depravity of things in general, the cussedness of fate. Mutiny -waited sly, while I plunged around conspicuous, so now he's rich, -setting a good example, while I'm as poor as a fox. - -What with my bank deposit and the sale of my home, Dick brought me back -nine thousand dollars in cash. Likewise I had in my warbags the money -which McCalmont had trusted to my care for Curly's dowry. I gave Dick -charge of all this wealth, taking only a thousand dollars for present -expenses, and stuffed the same in the treasure-belt which I carry next -my skin. These proceedings were a comfort to me, for I'm here to remark, -and ready to back my statements with money, arguments, or guns, that the -handling of wealth is more encouraging to the heart than such lonesome -games as the pursuit of virtue. - -Besides the plunder and Curly's trousseau, Dick brought me chocolate -creams, a new breed of rim-fire cigars just strong enough to buck, a -quart of pickles, and some medicine for our thirst. The old drunkard -knows what is good, and before supper we sat in the barn with these -comforts talking business. - -It needs such surroundings of luxury to get my thoughts down to any -manner of business, for I hold that office work is adapted to town -sharps only, and not to men. Bryant and I had the misfortune to be -named in Lord Balshannon's will as his executors, to ride herd on his -Jim until such time as the colt could run alone. In this business my -co-robber had taken action already, annexing the trainload of breeding -cattle which had been stolen by Jabez Y. Stone. These cattle were sold -by auction, and Dick held the money, swearing that nobody else but Jim -should get so much as a smell. - -With regard to Holy Cross, Dick, as sheriff, had seized the old -hacienda, and the same must be sold to pay Balshannon's debts to the -Ryan estate. It seems that Michael Ryan claimed this plunder, and that -Jim, the natural heir, had stolen Michael. "Thar it stands," says Dick, -who has a legal mind, "until Jim skins his meat." - -That set me thinking of Michael. He was not likely to be special fat -after his ride with the robbers. - -"I doubt," says Bryant, "that so shorely as Jim does the skinning, that -Ryan duck ain't got a tail feather left." - -With these remarks he slanted away back to town, having agreed to sup -with the City Marshal. As for me, I lay in the corn-shucks full of dim -wonderings about that Pedersen person cramped in the cooler at Lordsburg -on Bryant's charge of "bigamy and confusion of mind." The question was, -would he stay put? The arrangement made with Pedersen was only -temporary, not permanent like a proper funeral. Moreover, in his place I -should have felt mournful and ill used. I should have put up objections -and struggles to find my way out. Suppose this person escaped, or got -loosed by his lawyer, or sent Curly's address to the Grave City police? -I was afflicted with doubts about said Pedersen, and my mind began to -gloat on the joys of absence. So I saddled the horses, got ready for the -warpath, and watching until it was dark enough, made a break for the -back door of the house, carrying Curly's outfit. - -To judge by the clatter in the house, something had happened, and when I -broke in on the ladies, I found them having hysterics over their copy of -the _Weekly Obituary_. I slung the cowboy gear to Curly, and bade her -change herself quick because we must hit the trail. On that the clatter -got to a crisis, as it does in a hen-roost in the case of fox. Miss -Blossom called me all the names she could think of; Miss Pansy sobbed at -having to part with her little private robber; Miss Curly whirled in -telling the news in the paper. All of them wanted to talk, so I surely -played fox to that hen-roost, chasing Miss Pansy out to pack us a lunch -for the trail, grabbing the paper from Curly, and scaring Miss Blossom -with bad words until she got tame enough to attend to business. She took -Curly into the bedroom, and there was a sort of lull, while I got my -ears to work at the back door. - -It's a true fact that I have a sort of sense which warns me if danger is -coming. It makes my hands tingle as if they were full of prickles, and -my heart beats loud, so I can scarcely hear. That minute I stood at the -back door felt like whole hours of waiting, so that I wanted to howl. -Close by me in the kitchen Miss Pansy was sobbing about the bad words -she had heard, and through the mosquito netting I could hear Miss -Blossom oppressing Curly while she changed her clothes. I folded the -newspaper and jammed it into my pocket, studied the lay of the stable -door to see how quick I could get the horses out, and pulled my gun -loose for war. - -Away towards the town I could hear the rumble of wheels half a mile, -coming on rapid. - -"Miss Pansy!" I called. - -She quit crying. - -"This Curly's in danger," says I. "Brace up; act brave, and when this -waggon stops at the door, meet the men who try to break in. Tell them -you're not to home, and give 'em some Christian Science." - -She went quite cool to wait by the front door, and now I could see the -dust of a waggon come up against the afterglow in the sky. - -"Miss Blossom," I called, "roll Curly out through that window just as -she is. Quick!" - -"Oh, but----" - -"Curly," I shouted, "come out!" - -"Coming!" - -"Fix that bed, Miss Blossom; lay in it with Curly's wig, and prepare to -play daid!" - -Curly came tumbling through the mosquito bar in the window, dropped on -her feet like a cat. "Horses!" I whispered, and she ran, her spurs -clattering outrageous along the gravel-path. - -The waggon had pulled up to the front gate, somebody shouted, I heard -Miss Pansy screeching like a cougar, and a man came surging past the -side of the house, lifting his gun to draw a bead on Curly as she ran. I -jumped behind, felled him with my gun-butt, and bolted. - -What with Miss Pansy's shrieks, and the shouting of men, the clatter had -got to be a whole disturbance, rousing a quiet neighborhood. As I ran I -could hear Miss Blossom calling, "Go 'way, you rude men! Scat!" - -It seemed to me that time was worth a million dollars a second while I -held the back gate by the stable, and Curly rode through with the horses -straight on to the open range. As I swung to the saddle, I heard the -house door battered in with a crash of breaking glass. - -"Hold on," said Curly, reining in her horse, "I was forgettin'." - -The searchers were swarming through the house, and for my part I was -full content to depart without telling them any good-bye. - -"You're scart," says Curly. "You coward! You stay heah!" - -Then feeling for blood with her spurs, she sailed at full gallop along -the outer side of the garden fence. At the first shot from the yard she -ducked, throwing herself until she hung Indian fashion along the off -side of her horse. A bullet trimmed my back hair as I followed, gun -flames blazed from the back porch and the windows, as we shot past the -house. The bullets were singing all round us, our horses were crazy with -fright, but then we swung round the end of the garden fence, running -full tilt against the standing team of horses which the police had left -in the road. The shock stampeded them, but Curly swerved clear of their -rush, rolled back into the saddle, raced abreast, and shot both horses -down. A minute more, and the firing died away behind us, for we were -racing neck-and-neck across the desert. Curly had left the police to -follow afoot, but now she began to weaken, for, because she had played -the man, she broke down and sobbed--a woman. - -We had been running maybe two hours when we pulled up on the top of a -hill to rest our horses. Far down to southward the electric lights in -the city made a silver haze of small specks glistening as though a scrap -of sky had fallen there. High in the south Orion rode guard upon the -star herds, and the night was so still that we were scared to speak. I -wanted to smoke, but on a night like that the striking of a match may be -seen for miles around, so I took a bite at my plug and ate tobacco -instead. Then as Curly and I sat on a rock together listening, I heard a -bear cough because his nose got dusty, grubbing for ants; a coyote was -singing the hunger-song, and miles away to the east a ranche dog -answered him. Then Curly's horse scrunched up a tuft of grass, and my -beast pawing, startled a rattlesnake. The little woman beside me -whispered then-- - -"Shorely the Lawd makes His big medicine for us, for snakes and robbers, -wolves and b'ars. Only the folk down tha cayn't see Him, 'cause they got -electric lights instead of stars." - -"Which them two pore ladies," says I, "gets gun-flame by way of lamps to -cheer them up to-night." - -"I hate to think how we-all stirred theyr peace. Still, Bryant has -stroked theyr fur by now," she sighed. "Them visitors rumpled me too, -and all my brussles is pointing the wrong way still." - -"D'you reckon, Curly," I asked, "that the City Marshal is hoping to -trail us by starlight?" - -"Not to hurt," she yawned, "'cept maybe he's got smell-dogs guidin' his -posse. Yes, I remember a while back the Marshal bought a team of -blood-hounds." - -She didn't seem to take much interest, so I proposed that we roll our -tails. - -"I see his lantern," said Curly; "thar it is agin. We got a ten-mile -start." - -I saw the glimmer then. "Come on," said I. - -"_Poco tiempo_," says Curly. "I'm fearful sorry for them pore ladies -yondeh." - -I dragged her away, and we rode on, throwing the miles astern. Every two -hours or so Curly would give the horses a rest and a taste of grass--a -trick she had learned from Indians, which kept them fresh for a trail. - -The night was cold, with a little "lazy wind," as Curly called it, too -tired to go round, so it went right through us. Just before dawn we -crossed a clay flat holding a slough of mud, and found it hard with -frost. - -"When water goes to sleep with cold," says Curly, "a smell-dog's nose -ain't goin' to guide his laigs. This frost is due to send the posse -home." - -"At dawn they'll see our tracks." - -Dawn broke, and we were rising a slope of sand-drift, with acres of -naked rock ahead of us. - -"Haw!" said Curly, leading me to the left until we entered the rock -field. "Gee," she called, and we crossed the rocks to the right. "Follow -the rocks--shy wide of any sand." I followed for a mile, until a little -hill shut off the route we had come by. "Dismount," she said, and I -stepped down by the edge of the sands. She made me take the saddle -blankets, the oilskin coats, and a serape (Mexican blanket), and make a -pathway of them across the sand, on which she rode, leading my horse, -while I renewed the track in front of her for a couple of hundred feet. -So we left horse sign on the sand which looked a whole fortnight old. -Then, gathering the clothes, I mounted, and we curved away among -sandhills for half an hour, sailing along at a lope until we came to a -patch of gramma grass. "Let the hawsses graze," said Curly, and sat -side-saddle, resting while she smoked a cigarette. I did the same, and -the tracks we left now were those of grazing horses, not those of -travellers. Then I resaddled, and all set, we rode off again to the -north. The frost had spoiled our scent; the blanket play and grazing -play had sure discouraged trackers. - -"Curly," says I, "you heap big Injun!" - -"I lil' small robber," she answered, "givin' away trade secrets." - -A few miles northward we circled up beyond a ridge of hills, to a good -look-out point. From there we could see the Marshal's posse small as -ants in the distance, ranging around on the rock flat, from whence they -presently crawled off south, looking a lot subdued. Then I unsaddled, -while Curly killed out a few centipedes, scorpions, rattlers, and other -local vermin, to make our sleep comfy under the rocks. - -At noon, when the heat awoke us, we rode on to Texas Bob's big spring, -reaching his camp by sundown. There we made up for lost meals by taking -in four at once. Mrs. Bob gave us jerked beef, spiced bread and coffee; -her wild range kids rubbed down our horses, watered them and fed; the -old gentleman himself poured in his best advice until Curly crept off to -sleep. As for me, I felt good, sitting there in the hut of cactus sticks -watching the gold grass slowly change to grey, and great big stars come -out above the hills. - -The long hair lay like silver around the old man's shoulders; the white -beard, pointed short, wagged over his deerskin shirt; his kind eyes -wrinkled with fun, and all his words were wisdom absolute. I reckon he's -the wisest man in all the southern desert, and when I told him the -things I ought not to have done, he showed me better how to act in -future. - -"Stealin' a womern," says he, "is different from stealin' hawsses. You -can make the hawsses forget theyr home range in a month, but a womern -will sure break fences to quit back to the man she wants. This Curly -will run to her mate, and whar they graze there ain't room for you in -the pasture. The good Book says: 'No man shall put them asunder,' and -the rules of Right and Wrong ain't got exceptions. Don't you try to -steal Curly." - -In all my life I never needed a friend so much as I did that night, but -when Curly and I hit the trail the old scout reached me his hand. - -"Put her right thar, Chalkeye," says he; "it's mighty hard at times to -stick to the rules of the game. It's so easy to go crooked that it takes -a man to play straight--and you'll play straight. _Adios!_" - -All night my mind was at ease, and when day broke again we were into the -Superstitious Mountains. So I led Curly down towards Echo Spring, and -gave the long yell to my boys where they lay in camp. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -A MILLION DOLLARS RANSOM - - -In giving my own account of this unpleasantness which happened between -the Du Chesnay and Ryan families I've just grabbed Truth by the tail and -tried to stay right with her. But Truth runs swift, and raises plenty -dust of lies around her heels, so, maybe, whirling along I missed good -facts. Happens I've been poorly provided with one eye and a lot of -prejudice to see the trail ahead; likely I've not been the only party -interested. Anyways, outsiders could watch the stampede without getting -choked with dust. - -Now these conclusions struck me abrupt like a bat in the eye when I sat -down to rest in camp at Echo Spring. Before leaving Grave City, while -thinking of other worries, I had caught a copy of a local paper, stuffed -the same in my rear pocket, and disremembered having such possessions. I -never thought of it until my tigers, hungering for news, caught sight of -the bulging paper and rushed my camp to grab. Then I unfolded the -_Weekly Obituary_ to these boys, all setting around on their tails and -pointing their ears for instruction. I read to them about a certain -Chalkeye Davies, who seemed to be a most astonishing outrageous villain, -performing simultaneous crimes in several places at once. My tigers -purred for more. - -Then came a whole page of revelations concerning "the kidnapped -Croesus," otherwise styled "the stolen millionaire" and the "brigands' -prey." It was clearly proved that the Chalkeye villain, Jim du -Chesnay--described as "a broken-down swell"--and Captain McCalmont had -joined together in purloining Michael Ryan and hiding him up in a cave, -the place being well known to the authorities. This cave was -inaccessible by land and water, guarded with machine-guns, and supplied -with all modern conveniences, especially searchlights. "Our special -representative" had been there, "but declined to give particulars for -fear of driving the bandits to still more desperate measures." - -Then came the _Weekly Obituary_ gallery of fine portraits. We knew them -all well, because they were served up frequent to represent murderers, -politicians, actresses, preachers, scandalous British duchesses, and -other notorious persons. Now they represented McCalmont, Curly, -Chalkeye, Jim, Michael Ryan, Mrs. Michael, and old Mrs. Ryan. The -_Weekly Obituary_ said it was wishful with these identifications to -assist the ends of justice. - -After this the next page was all quotations from leading papers -throughout the Republic, proving how plumb depraved the robbers were, -how wicked it was to purloin the rich and good out of their private -cars, and how the Federal Government ought to act in this shocking -catastrophe. The New York papers just burned themselves with wrath -because Michael's present engagements prevented him a whole lot from -attending to railroad business. His financial combine was due to -collapse complete unless he took hold at once. - -Last came "our special supplement," with the very latest news. It seems -that Michael had written to his wife in New York; likewise that somebody -stole the letter from her and sold it to the New York _Megaphone_. Then -all the papers copied Michael's letter and laid the blame on the -_Megaphone_. Here is the letter:-- - - "_September 8th, 1900._ - - "DEAR KATHLEEN, - - "On 28th ult. I was abducted at Grave City out of my car by - brigands and carried blindfold, lashed on to the back of a horse, - for several hundred miles through frightful country, arriving here - 4th instant. When I got here I weighed ninety-eight pounds! Indeed - I was nearly dead; but now the robbers are feeding me up, so that - I'm gaining flesh, although I'm still kept prisoner in close - confinement. - - "I don't know the whereabouts of this house, but it's a large - ranche building of logs in the middle of pine woods. At nights I'm - almost frozen, so it must be high up in some range of mountains. - The country looks flat from the window. A robber told me once that - the place is in California. - - "Now, dearest, you will take this as my authority, and raise the - sum of one million dollars to pay my ransom, and save me from being - murdered. You know who to go to, and offer securities for the loan, - getting the best terms you can. This money must be paid one-tenth - in U. S. gold currency, and the balance in notes of ($50) fifty - dollars and under. Bring it to Flagstaff, in Arizona, and ask for - military escort. There you will charter a waggon, and have the - treasure delivered at the point where the Tuba trail from Flagstaff - crosses the Little Colorado River, right in the middle of the - Painted Desert. The waggon must then be abandoned, and the escort - to withdraw to Caņon Diablo, leaving no spies behind. The chief of - the robbers tells me that the man he sends with a team to get this - waggon will be a perfectly innocent farmer, and that any parties - attempting to molest, join, or follow him will be killed so quick - they'll never know what struck them. - - "I must earnestly warn you, as you value my life, to prevent any - attempt whatever to watch or track the waggon; or prior to my - release to permit any hostile movement against the robbers; or to - deliver any money short of the full ransom; or to mark any coin or - note for future identification. If the terms are not absolutely - complied with in every detail, within forty days from date--that - is, by noon of 18th October, I shall be murdered. If the ransom is - delivered as per instructions by 18th October and found correct, - the robbers will then disperse, and have no further use for me. - They promise then to deliver me at the nearest ranche or farm on or - before 1st November. - - "_Private._--Now, dearest, of my own free will, and without - compulsion from the robbers, I want to ease my mind of a great - burden, by confessing to you as I shall to Holy Church if ever I - get the chance. Under this dreadful visitation I see things in - their true light which before were hid. - - "I guess there's not the slightest doubt that Lord Balshannon was - one of the blackest scoundrels that ever disgraced this earth. - Apart from his odious crimes in Ireland, his later life was steeped - in villainy. For years at Holy Cross ranche he was in open league - with this gang of robbers who have captured me. One of them, - Chalkeye Davies, the notorious horse-thief, was his foreman, and - Captain McCalmont's son went there to get educated in crime. Once - Balshannon actually hired the gang to rob my father of $75,000. - - "Under such circumstances I am awed by the sublime courage of my - father in this single-handed war against Balshannon and his - outlaws. I stood at father's side in the last fight when Balshannon - murdered him; I fired first in the fusillade which avenged the old - man's death; and untrained as I am to such wild warfare of the - Frontier, I tried to be worthy of my blood. - - "But when I think of Balshannon's son, I realize now that he fought - for his father as I fought for mine. Afterwards, blinded with - passion, I brought a charge against him, and swore that he alone - was guilty of my father's death. I had no right to do that; the - young chap was innocent, the charge was a put-up job. But the evil - one must have possessed me entirely, for when several witnesses - thought they could please me by swearing Jim's life away, I was a - party to their perjuries. More, I was induced to help them with - money to leave the country, and so escape arrest. - - "If I sinned, I am punished, for as the robbers were Balshannon's - partners, so they took sides with his son. Because I attacked the - lad they abducted me. That is my punishment, Kathleen, and it is - just. - - "In one thing I am puzzled, because I expected to find Balshannon's - son with the robbers. I have not seen him, and McCalmont swears - that Jim du Chesnay took no part in this outrage. - - "Kathleen, we've got to do right in this business. I want the - charge against James du Chesnay withdrawn right now. When I am free - I shall give him back his home and lands, all that father seized, - and ask him to forget that there was ever a quarrel between our - families. - - "Dear love, it breaks my heart to think of your anxiety. As for my - business interests, I dare not think of what may be involved by my - long absence. Mavourneen, you must save me quick, or worse will - happen yet. - - "Your distracted lover, - - "MICHAEL." - -It made me sorry to think of that poor devil. You see, he tended strict -to business first, then strutted awhile to show himself off to his -woman, before he unfolded his crooked little soul in the part marked -"Private." His letter gave me plenty to think about. - -Still, I had my own concerns to worry me, for Monte took me round our -herd, which had grown in surprising ways during my absence. The mares, -it seemed, had gotten more prolific than usual, giving birth to -full-grown horses, ready branded. On the whole I concluded that if any -of the neighbours happened around, my boys would find that pasture -unhealthy with symptoms of lead poisoning. I advised them to quit, so -they agreed to shift the herd along eastward, and sell out in Texas. -Meanwhile, I cut out Curly's buckskin mare, and a few of my own pet -runners who knew how to show their tails to any pursuers. We took twelve -good stayers from the herd, and a little wall-eyed pack mule who had -fallen dead in love with Curly's mare. So Curly and I were ready for our -march. - -As to that young person, from the moment she hit the trail out of Grave -City the wound in her arm healed rapid, and she sure forgot to be an -invalid. Two days we fed and rested her, but then she began to act -warlike, oppressing me for sloth. On the third morning I loaded the pack -mule, told the boys good-bye, and trailed off with Curly, pointing for -Robbers' Roost. - -When water won't cure thirst, but the juice in your mouth turns to slime -caking in lumps on your lips, when the skin dries up because there's no -more sweat, when your eyes ache and your brain mills round--that's -Arizona. The air shakes in waves like a mist of cobwebs, and through -that quiver the landscape goes all skeweye, for some of the mountains -float up clear of the land, and some turn upside down standing on rows -of pillars along the skyline. Then the hollows of the land fill with -blue mist--blue lakes and cactus bushes change into waving palm trees by -the waterside. How can a man keep his head when the world goes raving -crazy all round him? You have just to keep on remembering that your eyes -have quit being responsible, that your nose is a liar, that your ears -are fooled, then keep a taut rein on yourself for fear your wits -stampede, and your legs go chasing visions down the trail to death. - -That Valley of Central Arizona got me plumb bewildered; a country of -bare earth and mesquite brush like mist, with huge big trees of cactus -standing in one grove a hundred miles across. Then came a hillside of -black cinders lifting a hundred miles; but the top was a level mesa, -surely the first place I ever seen with good grass under pine trees. I -had never seen woods before, and this coconino forest is the sort of -pasture I'd want to go to after this present life. I hunger none for -golden pavements or any desert lay-out, nor am I wishful for a -harp--having a taste for guitars--nor for flopping around on wings, nor -a crown of glory--the same being ostentatious a whole lot. Pasture like -this, a horse, a camp, a spring--such promises as them would lure me to -being good. - -Right in the heart of this forest there's a bunch of dead volcanoes -called the San Francisco peaks, lifting their frosty heads into the sky, -and round the skirts of lava at their feet lies broken country. Curly -showed good judgment in making camps, but hereabouts I thought she had -lost her wits, for she led me over broken lava flows, heart-breaking -ground for the horses, where we had to dismount and climb. Then all of a -sudden we dropped down, hid from all the world, into a meadow walled -around with lava. This tract had escaped when the rest was overflowed; -so happened there was grass among the bull pines, and right at the head -of the field a little cave with space of floor for camping beside a -bubbling spring. We struck the place at noon and camped, my partner -concluding to lie over until she could make a night scout in search of -news. She slept through the afternoon while I stood guard outside. - -Up to that time we had been scared to make a fire at night or show a -smoke by day, except for the minutes we needed boiling coffee. Besides -that, we could never camp within ten miles of a water-hole, but had to -ride on after drinking to win the nearest grass, this country being all -ate up around the pools. Here we had grass and water, the cave to hide -our fire, and certainty besides of not being caught without warning. It -was mighty fine to set around the fire after supper. - -"You Chalkeye"--Curly lit up a cigarette and broke into silence which -had lasted days--"what does it feel like, being safe?" - -"We're safe enough here, lil' partner." - -"Till I hit the trail for this scouting. But I mean, to live safe day -after day without nobody ever wanting to kill you. Ain't it some -monotonous?" - -"Not to hurt." - -"It must feel sort of--neglected. I read a book onced about folks in -England, which I kep' on readin' and readin' to see if anythin' happened -'cept meals and go-to-bed and get-up-in-the-mawning. The girl was a sure -enough fool, and as to the boy--well, he wore government socks, and -didn't love the Lawd. Then he mar'ied a widow by mistake, which she had -a forked tongue, a bad eye, and parted her ha'r on one side lookin' -rather cute. That boy just aimed to cut his throat for seventy-three -pages, then didn't after all, which was plumb discouraging. 'Stead of -that he got a government job inspectin' the clouds and drawin' salary. -Then the widdy she talked herself to death, and quit out. Afterwards -that boy took sixty-one pages to get a kiss from the heroine. Thar was a -deanery in it and a funny parrot--I reckon that's all the story." - -"They mar'ied?" - -"Sure, and nothin' happened ever afterwards, 'cept kids. Them characters -was awful safe from gettin' excited. Will it be that a-way when I get -tame enough to mar'y Jim?" - -Feeling that said Jim was a lot unworthy of her, I strayed out to study -how much our camp was visible. It seemed like we couldn't be attacked -without our visitors cussing around first in the lava. They'd bark their -shins, and we'd hear gentle protests. - -When I came back, Curly was brooding still about her Jim. - -"He'll be a dook like the old patrone," says she, "and sure as I'm a -lady I'll be tired of life. Robes goes with that job, and a golden crown -such as the angels wear." - -"I reckon that's only for Sunday best," I told her. - -"To go to church? Wall, now, ain't that jest fine? And how my wolves -would laugh to see!" She stood up swaggering before the fire, her hand -on her revolver, her laugh ringing echoes round the cave. "Jest you -think," says she, "of me--a lady! Footman at the church door to -announce us 'Lord and Lady Balshannon!' and Jim and me goes buttin' -along to our pew. Then the preacher he rears up to talk his sermon. 'My -lord, my lady, and you common or'nary brethren.' Cayn't you see Jim spit -on his crown and give it a rub with his sleeve, and me snarled up in my -robe like a roped hawss? Then we ride off home to the castle, and Jim -says, 'Be-shrew thee! go to, thou varlet, and wrastle the grub pile -'fore I shoot the cook!' Then the valet says there's a deputy-marshal -come to arrest us both for stealin' cows, so Jim has him hung in the -moat. Afterwards we put in the hull afternoon shootin' foxes, and other -British sports until it's time for supper, then play stud poker beside -the parlour stove. You're to come and stop with us, Chalkeye." - -"Sing to me, Curly," says I, because her voice was sweet enough to -gentle a grizzly bear, and it always smoothed my fur. It seems to me I -can see her now, her eyes green and flame in the firelight, her face--I -can't describe her face. - - "Here's a moccasin track in the drifts, - It's no more than the length of me hand, - An' her instep--just see how it lifts-- - If that ain't jest the best in the land! - For the maid ran as free as the wind, - And her foot was as light as the snow, - Why, as sure as I follow, I'll find - Me a kiss whar her red blushes grow. - - "Here's two small little feet and a skirt, - Here's a soft little heart all aglow; - See me trail down the dear little flirt - By the sign which she left in the snow! - Did she run? 'Twas a hint to make haste, - An' why, bless her!--I'm sure she won't mind! - If she's got any kisses to waste, - Why, she knew that a man was behind! - - "Did she run 'cause she's only afraid? - No, for sure 'twas to set me the pace! - And I've fallen in love with a maid - When I ain't had a sight of her face. - There she is! And I knew she was near; - Will she pay me a kiss to be free? - Will she hate? will she love? will she fear? - Why, the darling! she's waiting to see!" - -In all the thousands of camp fires dotted along the trail of my life, -that one is best to think of. Surely I believe that the Big Spirit sent -us poor little spirits loose on the earth to be kicked and educated, not -to have nice times. Looking around at present facts, we see how Life is -a cold, hard, business proposition, so we have to keep a mighty sharp -look-out for fear of being kicked off the premises. The future glows -with hope gay as a sunrise, the past is full of memories shining -glorious like the setting sun. Seems to me that in Eternity, when the -cold present is mixed up with all the rainbow colours of Past and -Future--why, then I'll hear Curly's voice come soft through the pines, -and see her face in the fire where I camp. - -So in my poor way I dream in this lone camp where I sit at present. -Perhaps, says you, I'd better wake up right now and tend to my story. - -At midnight Curly rode into the town of Flagstaff. Afterwards, following -the Grand Caņon trail at daybreak, she happened by accident on a -stage-coach broken down with a load of tourists. The driver chanced to -be a retired robber, gone tame with rheumatism, so she helped him to fix -his linch pin which had snapped. As to the tourists, they were plumb -content to find a "real live cowboy" who would talk to them. Most -punchers steer shy of tourists, but Curly enjoyed them. She was always -curious as a young antelope at anything unusual in the way of game, so -she borrowed all their newspapers "to read to her dying mother"--which -was me. Then she told them good advice about keeping alert at night to -watch for robbers. On that the teamster cheered them up by divulging how -robbers drink human blood to keep their courage boiling, and how they -like a baby when they are staled on pork. Curly imparted a few -particulars and rode away with a high tail. - -I was still asleep when she came whirling into camp, whooping for -breakfast ravenous. - -"Show a laig," says she, "and set out the grub pile swift while I go -wrangle the hawsses. We get a move on ourselves right after breakfast!" - -There was something unusual, I thought, about the way she talked, a -sort of high-strung excitement. As to her face, that was pale as ashes. -By the time I'd cooked bacon and slapjacks she had the horses in, and -fresh mounts saddled. - -"How's Flagstaff?" I asked, while she washed herself at the spring. - -"Ain't this just purty?" she said to the bubbling water. "Flagstaff? -Why, it sure is the craziest town I ever seen." Her laugh was harsh to -hear. - -"You been showin yo' face in the street?" - -"Wall partly, but I covered up half my complexion to look like the -toothache--so!" She stuffed a ball of a handkerchief into her near -cheek, bound the towel around her jaw, and looked most miserable. "Oh, -throw me a dentist!" she howled, then broke out laughing. "I shorely did -act pitiful." - -"And why for is this town locoed?" I felt the girl was laughing so as -not to cry. - -"Well," says she, "there's Joe Beef, the Utah sheriff, and a lot of lil' -no-account sheriffs, there's a fat United States Marshal with a chin -whisker and a heap of deputies, there's cowboys, scouts, and trackers, -reporters, ambulances, dawgs, pony-soldiers----" - -"Has the Navajos broke out?" - -"No, the pale-face has broke out; it's a hull epidemic, and there's an -outfit on the war trail in Utah, another on the San Juan in -Colorado--and they're going to eat up Robbers' Roost--and you, -Chalkeye, lookin' glum as a new-laid widow! Scat, you!" - -"Has they gawn mad?" I asked. "The moment they make a break for Robbers' -Roost, McCalmont will kill this Ryan, scatter his wolves, and vanish. -This must be only the escort for Ryan's ransom." - -"It's plumb ridiculous, but--there ain't no ransom." - -"Yo're dreaming, Curly. This projeck of troops is sure death to Ryan. -They'd risk the killin' of a common or'nary man--but a millionaire!" - -"That's where the joke comes--he ain't a millionaire!" - -I saw her quit her breakfast all untasted. - -"Cayn't you be serious, child, for once?" I asked, but it made me ache -to see her face that way. - -"I daren't be serious, I daren't think, I daren't. Just you look at them -papers." - -I snatched at the nearest paper, opened it, and thought I must have been -locoed. There were the headlines:-- - -"Ryan Combine Smashed. Collapse of the Trust."--"Panic on 'Change. The -Kidnapped Millionaire, a Confessed Perjurer and Corrupter of Witnesses, -admits that He swore away the Life of an Innocent Man."--"Behold thy -Financial Gods, O Israel!" - -I read on, dazed with the news. "Public Confidence at an -End."--"Investors jump from Under."--"Ryan Debentures a Frost."--"Shares -thrown on the Ash-heap."--"Petition in Bankruptcy."--"Mrs. Ryan -abandons all Hope of a Ransom."--"Federal Government pledged to wipe out -the Bandits."--"Movement of Troops."--"Sheriff Joe Beef interviewed on -the Situation."--"Forces taking the Field."--"One of the Robbers offers -Himself as a Guide." - -Curly was pulling my sleeve. "Come here," she said, and there was surely -something awful in her voice. "Look, see that dragon-fly," she -whispered, "and all them flowers usin' the spring for a mirror, bendin' -low. And hear the bull pines whisper, smell the great strong scent, look -thar at the blue sky, and the cloud herds grazin'. That's like my home, -ole Chalkeye--sech sounds, sech good smells, sech woods, and sech a -heaven overhead. The boys air gentlin' hawsses in the big corral, or -ridin' out to get a deer for supper. My fatheh sets in the doorway -strummin' hymns on his old guitar, his dawgs around him, his lil' small -cat pawin' around to help. And Jim is thar, my Jim--cayn't I be serious? -Don't I think? Ain't I seein' that, all blackened ruins--bloody -ground--daid corpses rotting down by the corrals--shadows of black wings -acrost the yard? Oh, God of Mercy, spare 'em, spare my wolves, my home, -my fatheh! And Jim is thar!" - -She turned against me raging. "What air you waiting for? Has you jest -got to stand round all day? Yo're scart--that's what's the matter with -you-all--afraid to even carry a warning! What d'ye want to pack the -kitchen for? I'm shut of you. Stay thar!" - -She jumped to her horse, she sprang to the saddle, she lashed her spurs -for blood, and whirled away to the northward. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE STRONGHOLD - - -My words are only crawling for lack of wings; my brain's like ashes when -it needs to be live fire. I have no brains or words to talk of what I've -seen, and I reckon I'm a lot incompetent. The men who wrote the Bible -ought to be turned loose on this earth again to make another book. Then -folks who have not seen might understand such places as the Painted -Desert, the Rock City, and the Grand Caņon of the Colorado. - -What with delays in packing and driving I had to track Curly for maybe -thirty miles before I caught her up at Clay Flat by the edge of the -forest. Her horse was dead, and she sat beside him, her stone-white face -set cold, staring straight ahead. Below us lay the Painted Desert, so -wide that the further edge was lost in mist. We rode down to the trickle -of water at the bottom, then up the further side, and all the rock lay -in belts red as flame, yellow as gold, purple as violets, which seemed -to shine of their own light, burning us. The men who stop in that -country mostly go mad, the which is natural. Beyond we came out on a -mesa of naked rock and sand-drifts, where we found a pool between high -cliffs, splashed through it, and maybe a dozen miles beyond found after -nightfall a few plants of grass. We had covered a hundred and ten miles -at a tearing pace that day, changing horses, robber fashion, at every -halt we made. - -Next morning we met up with small bunches of Navajo Indians, a strange -breed of people, dressed up in their private brown skins, with great -plenty of turquoise necklace, silver harness, and a wisp of breech -clout, riding with bows and arrows to hunt rabbits. They handed a few -arrows after us; but their ponies could not run, so we quit their -company. - -Then we came to the City of Rocks, flaming red, and high as mountains; -their thousand-foot walls sheer to the desert, all carved in needle -spires, towers, castles, palaces. The street was six miles wide, I -reckon, and we rode along it maybe fifty miles, like crawling flies in -the sand. - -Beyond the city we curved around by a gap in the desert, a sort of crack -half a mile deep, with a river along the bottom. It swung about like a -snake, getting deeper and deeper; but we kept to the level desert, until -we reached a little side caņon, where there was feed and water. We -resaddled there, taking Curly's buckskin and my pet horse Sam. The rest -of our bunch we turned down into that pasture, and left them, riding on -along the rim rock. - -Just after sundown we came abrupt to what looked like the end of the -world, a gulf so deep that we couldn't see to the bottom. That mighty -gash in the earth is six hundred miles in length, it's usually ten miles -wide; it's more than a sheer mile deep, and full of mountain ranges all -shaped like gigantic buildings. Dead weary as I was from riding more -than two hundred miles in forty-eight hours, I forgot about being tired -when I saw that place, the most tremendous thing in the whole earth, the -Grand Caņon of the Colorado. - -There was no rest for us, but seven miles of such a break-neck trail as -I'd never imagined possible, for it overhung black death from start to -finish, looping round the face of outrageous cliffs which seemed to have -no bottom. Midnight was past before we got to camp beside the river, -flung off the harness, turned the horses loose, and dropped in our -tracks to sleep. - -A gunshot roused me, and starting broad awake I heard the echoes -crashing from wall to wall. - -"It's only me," said Curly, "signalling." - -Dark banks of fog were driving over our heads, and I shivered with the -dawn cold. Then I looked up, and more than a mile in the air saw scarlet -cliffs ablaze in the sunlight. The river rolled beside our camp, wide as -the Thames in London, grey water so thick that splashes of it harden -into mud. A gunshot answered from the further bank, then Curly gave the -cougar war-howl. The yelp of a wolf came back. - -"Both boats," said Curly, "are on this side of the river--something gawn -wrong. Cook breakfast while I cross." - -She took a little crazy boat and towed it upstream, scrambling over -boulders a quarter-mile or so. From there she pulled the boat across the -great grey sluice, fetching the other bank after a half-mile drift -downstream. There was a strong backwater along that further bank, and -she pulled easy, drifting past the camp up to a rocky headland. The man -who had answered the signals was waiting there to throw his saddle into -the boat, and follow, leading two horses so they could swim behind. By -the time they crossed again I had our two horses to camp, and breakfast -waiting. - -It was not until after he fed, and he laid in provisions generous, that -this robber--his name was Pieface--had a word to say. He took no more -notice of me than if I was dead, and when he talked with Curly he sat -close beside her whispering. I hearing nothing; but allow I thought a -heap, for this man's face was bad, the very look of him was poison. My -gun was plenty ready while I watched. - -"Chalkeye," says Curly out aloud, but her eyes were set on this ladrone -all the while. "This Pieface says that ten of our boys were sent down to -wait for the ransom. They were camped at Clay Flat, you remember?" - -"I ain't much forgetful," says I, for this meant that all the cowards -had deserted! We had seen no men at Clay Flat. - -"The chief," says Curly, "is right on his ear, and sends this Pieface to -find out what's wrong at Clay Flat." - -When this Pieface person had hit the trail, we took both boats across -the river and swam our horses. From the far bank our way turned sharp to -the left into the side Caņon of Dirty Devil Creek. There we rode along -some miles in the water, so as to leave no trail; then, quitting the -bottom, turned sharp back up a ledge, threading the face of the cliffs. -The heat was blinding; it seemed as if we were being baked alive, and -even my tanned hide broke out in blisters. Curly allowed this cliff was -over six thousand feet high, and the trail kept circling round red -buttresses, flanks of broken rock, to one sheer cape where nothing lay -below us but blue space. Then we swung into a little arroyo with -trickling water, shady trees, and a gentle glade until we reached the -summit. At the rim rock a robber halted us, until Curly pushed her -hat-brim up, showing her face. She answered for me, and we rode on -through level pine woods. I noticed horse tracks scattering everywhere, -but no trail whatever; and then even the horse-tracks petered out. I -looked back, and there was not a sign to show the way we had come. For -the first mile we headed towards where the sun would set, now we swung -around on a long curve until we pointed north-east. I might just as well -have been blindfold. - -"Curly," I asked, "is this Main Street?" - -"I reckon," she laughed. "Could you find the way back?" - -Once before she had told me that no trails led to the stronghold. - -Then away to the left I saw a big corral, with a dust of horses inside, -and men sitting round on the top rail, maybe a dozen of them. Beyond it -lay a streak of open water, and right in front loomed a house, set in -the standing woods, where one could hardly see a hundred paces. It was a -ranche house of the usual breed, log-built, low-pitched, banked up -around with earth as high as the loopholes, and at each end against the -gable stood a dry stone chimney. Two or three men stood in the doorway -smoking, and but for the fact that they packed their guns when at home, -they looked like the usual cowboys. The dogs were plenty exuberant, but -Curly might have been out shooting rabbits for all the fuss that these -men made about her coming. - -We unsaddled and set our horses loose. - -"Wall, Curly," asked one of the robbers, "got any liquor along?" - -"Nary a smell." - -Then McCalmont came round the end of the house, dusty after some -argument with a broncho, trailing his rope while he coiled it. - -"So, home at last," says he, shaking a paw with me right hearty. "Wall, -I'm sure pleased at you, Curly." - -"Come to repawt," says Curly, mighty cool, but I saw that her eyes were -ranging around for Jim. An _olla_ of water hung from the eave by the -door, and McCalmont passed the dipper to me first. Then while Curly -drank he introduced me to Crazy Hoss, Black Stanley, and his brother -Dave, who made out that they were glad to see me, though their looks -said different. - -Then the Captain asked me in, and we followed Curly through the -mess-house door. The log walls were hung with antlers, skins lay on the -floor before the big hearth at the end, and down the middle, with -benches on either side, ran the long table with its oilcloth cover, the -tinware set out for supper, and netting to keep off flies. That cow camp -looked good to me, home-like and soothing. Off to the left of the -messroom opened a little lean-to house--McCalmont's den--with a cubby -hole beyond it for Curly. We found her sitting on the bunk, gun and -spurs unbuckled, and holding her legs out for the old man to pull off -her shaps. I unharnessed myself, and he fed me a cigar, bidding me to -settle in a cow-hide chair. I felt right to home then. - -"Dad," says Curly abrupt, "whar's my Jim?" - -"What, you ain't met him?" says McCalmont. "He's gone to look for you." - -Curly went pale under the tan, and gulped. "How long?" she asked. - -"Oh, quite a time. Why, child, what's scart you? Perhaps he's with my -boys at Painted Desert." - -"Daddy, I've brought bad news." - -"I reckon"--McCalmont spoke very low--"I been thar before a few times, -and yet we've worried along. Lie down, so you'll get mo' rest." - -He sat on the edge of the bunk, his hand on hers, as she lay loosing out -bit by bit the story of the ransom lost, the Federal Government on the -warpath, ten good men deserted. He was all crouched up when she -finished, the stub of a cigarette burning his fingers, and he looked -very old. - -I went to get the newspapers which I'd kept in my warbags for him, and -when I came back he turned loose a volley of questions, searching me to -the bones until he had all the truth. - -"Well, well," he said at last, with a queer smile, "these yere official -parties seem to be takin' quite an interest, eh? I thank you, seh, and -I'm full satisfied." Then he stood up. "You must be kinder hungry, -Misteh Davies. Spose you jest interview my cook. I think that you and -him has met before, and won't need introducin'. My son and I will join -you presently." - -I strayed out through the messroom and found the kitchen beyond. Sure -enough the cook and I were acquainted, although I had not expected to -see this particular person in shirt and overalls, and his bare arms -white with flour. He was plenty absorbed too, dipping balls of chopped -meat into a pan full of mess. - -"How air you, seh?" - -He shied right off his feet and turned to face me, looking as guilty as -a caught fox. - -"I guessed as much," he gasped; "all blackguards are bound to flock -together here." - -"Glad to meet you, Mr. Ryan," says I. - -Then he collected himself for war. "State your business, and get right -out of here. I'm engaged!" - -"I'm engaged likewise"--I sat down on a box, and a dog came fawning to -me--"wharas this dog is polite, and sets an example. He's plumb full of -decorum and depawtment." - -I hardly know what possessed me. Ryan's looks perhaps, or the way he -guarded those meat balls. I grabbed the nearest, and fed it to the dog -so quick that Ryan had only time enough to give himself dead away. - -"Leave that dawg alone!" says I. He quit resisting me then, backed to -the log wall, and stood glaring. - -"I've noticed," says I, "in dawgs that the smaller the dawg, the larger -the bark. I knew one onced so small that he hadn't room to hold his -bark--and the recoil tharfrom threw him back three dawg lengths. You -seem to suffer a whole lot from yo' recoil, Mr. Ryan." - -"I guess," he said in his harsh Yankee twang, "that you're a low-down -coward--torturing me because you know I'm helpless." - -"That dawg," says I, "is acting sort of queer, eh? As to my being a -coward, Mr. Ryan, you'll remember the last time we met I came buttin' -along to yo' hotel in Grave City commenting on yo' proceedings with a -straight tongue, and guns to back the same." - -"Come to the point," says he. - -"Now this yere is what I'm trailin's up to, seh, that I bears neither -guns nor malice, calls no names, bridles my tongue severe, treats you -with plenty and gentle inquiries, whar do you keep yo' manners?" - -"Where you keep your honesty," says he, sort of sarcastic. "You know I -can't escape, so I've got to listen. Talk, my good man, and when you're -through you can go." - -The town scout still had his office manners, a lot contemptuous. He -climbed up on top of his vanity--like a frog on a ladder--to call me "my -good man." And yet I had tamed him enough for business. - -"I take notice," says I, "that on the shelf above yo' haid there's a tin -of rough-on-rats. This condiment is maybe unusual in meat balls, and it -seems to affect yo' dawg some poignant, with wiggles and froth on the -jaws. He's swelling up, too. I likewise remarks that thar's enough of -these high-flavored meat balls to go through McCalmont and all his -riders. May I politely ask how long you been cook for this ranche?" - -"Mind your own business." - -"Which is to further test these same delicacies by trying a meat ball on -you." - -He grabbed a long butcher-knife from the table. - -"Try it," says he. - -"Maybe I'd better call in Captain McCalmont. Shall I shout for him?" - -Ryan dropped the knife. - -"What do you want to know?" - -"How long you have been cook?" - -"Since yesterday. I've been helping a man named Pieface." - -"Why did he quit?" - -"Got a note by carrier pigeon. He was in charge of McCalmont's pigeons." - -"You found the note after he left?" - -"Yes." - -"Hand it over." - -He said bad words. - -"I notice," says I, "that the meat ball has finished with yo' dawg." - -He took a slip of paper from his hip-pocket. - -"No ransom," I read. "Warn the boys." - -"Were the boys warned?" - -"No." - -"The news made you sort of desperate?" - -"They'll kill me when they know!" - -"So you took precautions first?" - -"Why do you torture me?" - -"Prefer a meat-ball?" - -"Go on, sir." - -"I might be induced to hide away these delicacies. Also this"--I kicked -the dog's carcass--"in fact to help you some. You could bury the past, -and resign yo' post as cook." - -"The news will come out, and I'll be murdered anyway. What's the good?" - -"There being no ransom," says I, "the use for you here ain't much -conspicuous. As a cook you're precarious, too. Suppose I get you turned -loose?" - -"I'll pay one hundred thousand dollars the day you set me free in the -nearest town." - -How could I tell the poor brute that he had not a dollar left in the -whole world? - -"Two hundred thousand," says he, "and that's my last word." - -A man came to the door behind me, which opened on the yard. There hung a -long iron crowbar, bent up in the form of a triangle. The man began to -beat this with a horseshoe, and the sound would carry maybe a -quarter-mile. - -"Name your own terms," says Ryan. "Come, name your price!" - -"You does me too much honour," says I, for how could I tell him the -facts? - -"What do I care for your honour?" Ryan had played like a sneaking coyote -before, but now he talked out like a man. "I've bought better men than -you with a hundred dollars, and now I'm going to insult you with hard -cash. Your price, you thief!" - -The sound of the gong must have been a gathering signal, for men were -straying in from the corrals, and there was soon a tramping of feet and -buff of talk from the messroom at my back. - -"D'ye think," says Ryan, "that I'd be under any obligations to such as -you? I ask no favours. I only try to make it worth your while to do -what's right for once. Come, have you any manhood in you? I appeal to -your manhood to save me. Oh, turn your back, you hound!" - -I ran to my saddle in the yard, opened my warbags, grabbed out a pad of -paper and fountain-pen, then pushed my way through the growing crowd -about the messroom doors, until I won back to the kitchen. - -"Ryan," says I, "set down on that meat block, and write down what I say -in yo' own words." - -"What new treachery is this?" he asked. - -"If you want to live," I answered, "you'd best get a move on, and -write." - -The row in the messroom made it hard for him to hear, so I drew up -close. - -"Memorandum," says I, and he began to scribble; "date it 'Robbers' -Roost, Utah.'" - -"But this is California!" - -"Write what I say, 'October 13th, 1900.'" - -Michael Ryan confessed on oath how he had aided and abetted George Ryan -in a plot to destroy Balshannon. He confessed to perjury at the Ryan -inquest, naming the witnesses and the amounts he paid to each. He -released the Holy Cross estate from all claims on the ground of debt, -restoring the same to Jim. He swore that Jim, Curly, and I were not -among the brigands who captured him, and he believed all three of us to -be innocent. - -As to these facts, I had to convince him with a meat ball, but in the -end he signed. - -Then I got in a brace of independent robbers to sign as witnesses, so -the thing looked mighty legal and satisfying. Meanwhile in the messroom -I could hear McCalmont calling his wolves to order, and my witnesses -went away to hear his talk. - -"Ryan," says I, sitting down beside him, "you know the points of the -compass?" - -"I guess." - -"I'm going to explain the trail to the nearest settlement; see here." So -I began to scribble out a map showing the lie of the Caņons, the route -to where we had left the boats, the signs to guide him beyond. "When -you see this big butte towering high on the right----" I looked up, and -found he was not listening, for he pointed his ears to the messroom -where McCalmont talked. - -"Yo're due to understand," the Captain was saying, "that this yere Ryan -made a letter which he sent to his wife. He showed me the letter, and it -was sure fine scholarship, telling her plain and clear how to scare up -his ransom at once, how to deliver the same, and not make crooked plays -to get us trapped. Mrs. Ryan she got the letter all right, but then some -low-lived swab stole it away from her, and sold it to the N' York -_Megaphone_." - -Ryan let out a sudden cry. - -"That's what's the matter," says McCalmont, "and all the private part of -the letter got into print; whar Ryan confesses how he acted foul to pore -young Jim du Chesnay. He confesses to perjury and bribing witnesses, an' -sech-like acts of rotten treachery, which the general public havin' -entrusted millions of money to this Ryan to hold and invest the same, -ain't pleased when they larns his private manners and customs, or how -his manhood proves itself up when tested. The public thinks it's been -too trustful in confiding big wealth to a felon who is due to be gaoled -for his sins and gathered into the penitentiary." - -"Escape," says I to Ryan, "or you ain't got five minutes to live." - -"Escape!" says he--"to penitentiary! Oh, Kathleen, Kathleen!" He covered -his face with his hands, while McCalmont went on-- - -"So you see, boys, that the public closes down on this Ryan, and grabs -theyr money, and jumps from under sudden, stampeding before the crash. -This pore swab we got in the kitchen, which he cayn't even cook, ain't a -millionaire any mo', but a bankrupt, due to get five years' grief for -his acts, which is plumb felonious." - -It seemed as if all the robbers were stunned with the news, for they -made no move or sound. Only poor Ryan groaned, and I felt sick, because -I knew it was too late for him even to run. - -"Boys," says McCalmont, "this news is bad medicine for we-all, 'cause we -done attracted too much attention, we made ourselves plenty conspicuous, -and the United States has awoke to a smell of robbers. The nation has -got a move on at last, and it's coming up again on us on every side to -put our fires out. Ten of our men has deserted, and likewise the Pieface -animal, so there'll be plenty guides to lead the attack on this place. I -reckon our trails are blocked, our water-holes are held, our time is -pretty near expired in this world. I tharfore propose that we divide up -what plunder we got in store--the same being considerable--and all share -alike, and after that we scatter as best we can. Those of us who win -out of this trap is due to live, and those who don't will get a sure -good fight." - -I heard a voice call out, "Who brung this news?" - -"The man who risked his life to bring this news is my friend Chalkeye -Davies." - -At that I whirled right in through the crowd in the messroom and won to -McCalmont's side. - -"I got to speak," says I. - -The Captain grabbed my hand. "Boys, will you hear him?" he called. - -"Spit it out!" says Crazy Hoss. "Yo're a sure enough man, and we'll -hear." - -"Boys," says I, "if you hold it good to have this warning in time to -save yo' lives, I has to say that Curly McCalmont done it. He acted -faithful when ten men and a swab deserted you complete, and Curly is -shorely braver than any man I ever seen in this world. I speaks for -Curly and me, and for the Captain, when I says that it's a hull lot -pitiful to see the way this Ryan person has acted straight to own up the -wrong he done, and played his cyards honest in the matter of ransom. We -asks you to spare the life of this yere Ryan." - -Crazy Hoss reared up swift to open war against me. - -"I'll spare him!" he shouted. "I'll spare him a gunload of lead! What's -yo' game, stranger? Show down yo' hand, and let's see this hull crooked -lay-out. I stood at the loophole thar to watch yo' play, I seen you -workin over this yere prisoner until he's plumb subdued, and offering -bribes. You catch him with a can full of wolf-bait pizen, preparin' the -same for our supper; you feed his meat ball to his dawg, which dies on -the floor between you; you threatens to stuff another down Ryan's -throat; then you makes him good talk till he signs a paper, and now you -arises here to recite his virtues, playin' to save his life. Show down -yo' game!" - -By this time I was facing a matter of twenty revolvers, all a-quiver to -drive holes through my poor old hide. Some yelled that Ryan had bribed -me, some that I was projecting the death of the whole gang by Ryan's -poison. - -I threw up my hand, showing the peace sign quick. - -"After you!" I called, always willing to oblige--"after you. Shoot -first, and hear me afterwards, eh? That's right, boys. You see, I pack -no gun, 'cause I'm yo' guest." - -The guns were put away. - -"You've heard," says I, "from Misteh Crazy Hoss how I subdued this Ryan -and got a quittance for Jim du Chesnay from the charge of murder. I'm -his guardian, boys. Furthermore, you heard from Misteh Crazy Hoss a -plumb truthful account of how I saved this whole crowd from being -wolf-bait fed to us for our supper--the same being considered -unwholesome. Now, as to this pore little felon, he put up the only play -he knew to save hisself from being murdered. He ain't a lion to fight -with teeth, or a man to distribute gunfire on his enemies; but his -back's to the wall and he puts up the best little fight he knows about. -He, bein' a sure snake, uses poison, whereat, having drawn his fangs, I -takes his side, and begs the critter's life. I want to have him for a -curio to put in my collection, and I offers ten cents for the -same--which is more'n he's worth." - -"Boys," said McCalmont, "if this yere Chalkeye didn't allus take the -weaker side, he'd be a rich man still, instead of an outlaw herdin' with -our gang as his last refuge." - -The robbers seemed to like me some better now, and a feeling of -popularity began to glow on my skin. - -"But," says McCalmont, "in the matter of this yere snake, he acts plumb -erroneous. If the snake escapes to give evidence, he can identify the -entire gang, Chalkeye included. Go--kill that snake!" - -Crazy Hoss rushed to the kitchen. "Gawn!" he yelled. "Escaped! So this -is yo' game, Mr. Chalkeye!" - -"Kill him! kill him!" - -"Halt!" McCalmont faced the rush against me--outroared the shouting. -"Back, or I fire! Back, you curs! Deal with this business afterwards--we -want the snake first! Whar's them smell-dawgs? Here, Powder! Powder! -Here, you Rip; come on, lil' dawg! Crazy Hoss, you put on them dawgs to -the scent, track down this Ryan, and kill him. Then come back." - -The dogs were put on Ryan's trail. "Go, get 'im, Rip! Sick 'im, Powder! -Tear 'im and eat 'im! Come along, boys!" So the whole crowd poured away -to track Ryan. - -McCalmont grabbed me by the arm to hold me back. - -"You fool," he hissed through his teeth, "come on--there's not a moment -to lose--or them wolves will get you! Curly! Curly, come out, you, and -fetch Chalkeye's gun. Chalkeye, you come quick." - -Curly came running from the little hind room with our guns, while -McCalmont rushed me to the kitchen. "Here," he said, "hold this sack for -grub!" - -"Not them meat balls," says I; "meat balls is out of season." - -"All right," he laughed, pitching a half-sack of flour into the bag -which I held, then a side of bacon, and such other truck as was handy. -"Curly, you knows whar to take this man?" - -"Come along," says Curly. And I followed tame, with the sack on my -shoulder until we gained the woods. - -"Back!" says Curly sudden, and dodged for cover, while I dropped flat -behind a fallen tree. Looking from under, I saw Ryan come surging past -in front of us, screeching like all possessed, the smell-dogs at his -tail, and the robbers swarming close behind. - -"A near thing that," says Curly, when they had passed; "creep through -under the log." - -I crept through with my sack, and she followed. - -"Lie low," she said; "we're hidden here from the ranche until we can run -some more. Get out yo' gun." - -They say that we white men, using our right hands mostly, is strongest -on that side, and apt to bear to the left when we don't take note how we -run. Anyway, Ryan, instead of circling south, had circled to the left -and lost himself, then, when he found he was hunted, went off his head -complete. He was back in the yard now, close beside the house, where -McCalmont headed him off with a shot from the door, while the robbers -spread out half circling. They laughed and shouted. - -"My turn first!" says Crazy Hoss. - -"Take his off ear, Crazy!" - -The shot took Ryan's right ear; then Spotty fired, lopping off the left. -The poor brute tried to bolt, but a bullet swung him around. He lifted -his hands for mercy, but the next shot smashed his wrist. He screamed, -and a bullet caught his teeth. Curly was yelling now, but nobody -noticed, for Ryan was down on his knees, and his face was being ripped -to pieces. Then I saw McCalmont fire, and one of his dogs dropped dead. -He fired again, and killed the other hound. He had saved me from being -tracked. - -"Quit firing!" he shouted, and the robbers threatened him. "Now," he -yelled at them, "who wants to talk war agin my friend Davies and me?" - -"Come away," says Curly; and I crept after her. - -A man's legs are naturally forked to fit onto a horse, and mine have -never been broke to walking afoot. Fact is my legs act resentful when I -walk, making me waddle all the same as a duck; which it humbles me to -think of, because that Curly person loaded a sack on my withers, and -herded me along like a pack mule until I felt no better than a spavined, -groaning wreck. We must have gone afoot more than two whole miles before -we came out at last on the edge of the Grand Caņon. - -At this place, right in under the rim rock, there was a hidden cavern--a -fine big place when you got down there, but a scary climb to reach. -Half-way down the rock ladder I grabbed a root, which turned out to be a -young rattlesnake, and was so surprised that I pretty near took flight. -Curly saved me that time from being an angel--which leads me to remark -that there's lots of people better adapted to that holy vocation than -me. - -It was dark when we got to the cavern, but next morning I saw that it -was a sure fine hiding-place, the floor being covered with a whole -village of old stone houses. There are thousands of cliff villages like -this in the caņon country, made by some breed of Indians long gone dead, -but this one had special conveniences, because you could spit from the -outer wall into sheer eternity. Seeing how the robbers were warped in -their judgments of me, and the authorities likewise prejudiced, my -health required plenty seclusion then. We stayed in that hole for a -week. - -Curly was restive, quitting me at night to range the woods and visit the -ranche, collecting everything useful which was small enough and loose -enough to pull. She got four horses into a hidden pasture, with saddles -for the same, and chuck to feed us when we should hit the trail. The -plunder was good, but the news she brought smelt bad of coming trouble, -for the robbers stayed to quarrel over their shares of past thievings. -When they broke to scatter, the trails were all blocked with troops, and -then they were herded back into the ranche. On the fourth day I had to -make Curly prisoner, while from noon to dusk the battle raged at the -stronghold, and she wanted to go and die at her father's side. All that -night and the day that followed I kept the poor girl quiet with my gun, -then when the darkness came I let her free. - -I don't like to think of what happened next, because I reckon that if I -wash my outside I ought likewise to keep my inside clean and tidy with -nice thoughts. Getting our horses, Curly and I rode back to Robbers' -Roost, pulling up at the edge of the clearing just as the new moon -lifted above the pines. The stench of death, black ruins, white ashes, -dark patches where blood had dried upon the dust, everywhere broken -corpses--coyotes creeping to cover, eagles flapping heavily away--my -soul felt small and humble in that place. Black it was and silver under -the moon, with something moving slow from corpse to corpse in search--a -live man counting the dead. Something in the way he moved reminded me I -must have known that man, but the little partner called to him all at -once-- - -"Jim!" Her voice went low and clear across the silence. "Jim!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -A SECOND-HAND ANGEL - - -Scouting cautious, and shying wide of settlements except when we had to -buy chuck, I herded my youngsters up the long trail north. We took no -count of the distance, we lost all tab of dates, but camped where game -was plenty, pushed on when the sun was shining, holed up when the wind -was too cold, and mostly lived by hunting. So we rode the winter through -and came to the spring beyond, catching maybe more happiness than was -good to have all at once. - -One day, the snow being gone, and the prairie one big garden of spring -flowers reaching away to the skyline, we happened to meet up sudden with -a pony-soldier which he was lying under the shadow of his horse and -playing tunes on a mouth-organ, heaps content with himself. His coat was -red, his harness all glittering fine, his boots were shiny, his spurs -had small cruel rowels. He said his chief was His Imperial Majesty -Edward VII., that his tribe was the North-West Mounted Police, and his -camp was called Medicine Hat, the same being close adjacent. We sounded -him on robbers, but he seemed plumb ignorant, and said there was quite -a few antelope if we cared for hunting. - -Telling the youngsters to camp, I went butting along into Medicine Hat -to prospect the same alone. It felt mighty strange to be in a town -again, see the people walking around who belonged there, women and -children especially, but the whisky I sampled felt right natural, and -for all my snuffing and snorting I smelt nothing suspicious in the way -of wolf-trap. So I traded with a lady who kept store for woman's -clothing, such as she used herself, enough to load up my pack-horse. She -certainly selected liberal to judge by the money I paid. - -When I got back to camp expecting supper, I found the kids had been -quarrelling, so that they weren't on speaking terms, and I had to -introduce them. Jim was special haughty, but Curly got heaps interested -in the clothes I'd bought, crowing and chuckling over everything. Her -favorite game was playing at being a lady, but now she shied at -committing herself. - -"Shucks!" she flirted across to the far side of the fire. "I cayn't -oppress Jim in them things--I'd get so tame and weak he'd sit on my -haid!" - -"You're due to get mar'ied," says I, "as sure as sunrise to-morrow." - -"So! Jim ain't caught me yet!" - -Jim started in to catch her, but she jumped the fire to clear him. - -"Now!" she deified him complete; "don't you rush my corral with one of -yo' fool kisses, or I'll shorely bat yo' haid. I ain't laid down my arms -yet!" - -So she swaggered with her little brown hand on her gun, the firelight -glowing on her leather clothes and gold bright hair, on the flush of her -sunburnt skin, on milk-white teeth, and laughing, flashing eyes. Jim's -heart was burning, I reckon, for he went down on one knee and reached -out his arms to her. There was only the fire between them. - -"Say you love me, Curly?" - -"It cayn't be helped, Jim," she whispered, and her face went grave, "but -I shorely love you." - - * * * * * - -Riding the ranges of the world and grazing in life's pastures, I've got -to be plumb content with things present, which I can grab the same with -my teeth, instead of hungering after that heaven above which seems a lot -uncertain, and apt to prove disappointing. Here I've got horses for -sure, plenty cows, and Monte, one of my old riders, for my partner. Bear -Hole is the name of our new ranche, with the bull pines of the coconino -forest all around us, the hoary old volcanoes towering above, and the -lava-beds fencing our home pasture. Back of the cabin is the spring -where Curly used to splash me when she washed, the cave where she sang -to me beside our camp fire. The bubble spring, the wind in the pines, -the chatter of the birds, and the meadow flowers remind me of her -always. She has put away her spurs and gun never to ride any more with -free men on God's grass, because, poor soul! she's only a lady now and -gone respectable. - -Last summer--it sure makes me sweat to think of that scary business--I -went to Ireland. First came civilisation--which I'd never seen it -before--cities all cluttered up with so various noises and smells that I -got lost complete. When you stop to study the trail you get killed by a -tramcar. Then there was the ocean, a sure great sight and exciting to -the stomach--mine got plumb dissolute, pitching and bucking around like -a mean horse, so that I was heaps glad to dismount at Liverpool. That -Old Country is plenty strange, too, for a plain man to consider, for I -seen women drunk and children starving, and had to bat a white man's -head for shining a nigger's shoes. It beats me how such a tribe can ride -herd on a bunch of empires as easy as I drive cows, but if I proceed to -unfold all I don't know, I'll be apt to get plumb talkative. - -When I came up against Balshannon Castle, I found it a sure enough -palace, which was no place for me, so I pawed around outside inquiring. -Her ladyship was to home, and I found her setting in a fold-up chair on -the terrace. It made me feel uplifted to see her there nursing a small -baby, crooning fool talk to the same, which she patted and smacked and -nuzzled all at once. - -"Wall," says she, as I came looming up accidental, "ef it ain't ole -Chalkeye! Didn't I tell you awdehs to come long ago? Now don't you talk, -or you'll spoil my kid's morals, 'cause he ain't broke to hawss-thieves. -Yes, you may set on that stool." - -"Curly," says I, feeling scared, "is that yo' kid?" - -"Sort of. I traded for him. He's a second-hand angel. Now jest ain't he -cute?" - -He was a sure cunning little person, and thought me great medicine to -play with. - -"Whar is his lawdship?" says I. - -"Jim's down to the pasture, breaking a fool colt, and Chalkeye--oh, you -ole felon, how I enjoy to see yo' homely face! I got good news. Father's -alive, yes, in New York. He writes to say he's got a job at a theatre, -giving shows of roping and shooting. He's the Cowboy Champion, and"--her -voice dropped to a whisper--"planning enormous robberies. He'll steal -New York, I reckon." - -"Curly," says I, "spose I give you good news. May I hold that kid just -to try?" - -"Now you tame yo'self, and don't get ra'ring up too proud. Then maybe -you shall--to-morrow. Tell me yo' news." - -I handed her the documents, which the governor of Arizona had made for -me himself. Curly was pardoned, the charge against Jim was withdrawn, -and I was to come up for trial when called upon. I shall not be called -upon so long as I stay good. - -I saw the tears in Curly's eyes as she read, and her lips went twisty as -if she were due to cry. - -"Shorely," she said, "this comes of tellin' our prayers to God. So Jim -and me is free to go back to Holy Crawss?" - -"You're free." - -"Old friend," she whispered, "you must be first to tell Jim. Leave me -awhile." - -I walked away into the house as if to look for Jim, then crept back -behind a curtain watching her. She looked away to the west, and I knew -she was longing for the desert. Then she kissed her baby on the nose, -and once again, as in the old days, I heard her singing:-- - - "Whar y'u from, little stranger--little boy? - Y'u was riding a cloud on that star-strewn plain, - But y'u fell from the skies like a drop of rain, - To this wo'ld of sorrow and long, long pain-- - Will y'u care fo' yo' motheh, lillie boy?" - -Far off I could hear the footfall of a horse. - - "When y'u grows, little varmint, lillie boy, - Y'u'll be ridin' a hawss at yo' fatheh's side, - With you' gun and yo' spurs and yo' haidstrong pride: - Will y'u think of yo' home when the world rolls wide-- - Will y'u wish fo' yo' motheh, lillie boy?" - -The horse was coming nearer up the drive. - - "When y'u love in yo' manhood, little boy, - When y'u dream of a girl who is angel fair, - When the stars are her eyes, and the winds her hair, - When the sun is her smile, and yo' heaven's there, - Will y'u care fo' yo' motheh, lillie boy?" - -The horseman, brought up half-rearing, stepped from the saddle, then -threw his rein in the old range way, and Balshannon hurried to his -wife. - - * * * * * - - - -LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY'S - -_Popular Editions of Recent Fiction_ - - -Reissues of favorite copyrighted novels, fully illustrated (with few -exceptions), and handsomely bound in cloth. - - -1. THE RAINBOW CHASERS. A Story of the Plains. By John H. Whitson. - -It presents with striking vividness a picture of the rise and fall of a -boom town.--_Boston Transcript._ - - -2. FROM KINGDOM TO COLONY. By Mary Devereux. - -It is many a long day since such a charming love story has been -written.--_Literary World._ - - -3. THE SHADOW OF THE CZAR. By John R. Carling. - -An engrossing romance of the sturdy, wholesome sort, in which the action -is never allowed to drag.--_Boston Herald._ - - -4. WHITE APRONS. By Maud Wilder Goodwin. - -Has the true qualities of historical romance, dramatic situation, -and stirring incident, coupled with accuracy and literary -charm.--_Philadelphia Public Ledger._ - - -5. A DREAM OF A THRONE. By Charles Fleming Embree. - -A powerful story, with constantly changing movement, strong color, and -striking effects.--_Philadelphia North American._ - - -6. IN THE COUNTRY GOD FORGOT. 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THE WEIRD PICTURE. By John R. Carling. - -Leads the reader through a maze of mystery and adventure.--_Brooklyn -Eagle._ - - -33. A PRINCE OF LOVERS. By Sir William Magnay. - -A remarkable story of love, adventure, and intrigue.--_Boston -Transcript._ - - -34. SWEET PEGGY. By Linnie Sarah Harris. - -A jolly, wholesome love story in the good old-fashioned -manner.--_Detroit Free Press._ - - -35. JOURNEYS WITH DUMAS. The Speronara. By Alexandre Dumas. Translated -by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. - -These pages simply teem with entertainment.--_New York Evening Sun._ - - -36. SIR CHRISTOPHER. By Maud Wilder Goodwin. - -One of the strongest and most wholesome romances ever brought forth from -Maryland and Virginia.--_Cleveland World._ - - -37. FILE No. 113. By Emile Gaboriau. Translated by George Burnham Ives. - -A masterpiece of its kind, one of the best detective stories ever -written.--_New York Tribune._ - - -38. MY LADY CLANCARTY. By Mary Imlay Taylor. - -A wholesome, vigorous, stirring, refreshing tale.--_Chicago -Record-Herald._ - - -39. WHERE THE TIDE COMES IN. By Lucy M. 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