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diff --git a/old/50387-0.txt b/old/50387-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4854a5f..0000000 --- a/old/50387-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6910 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Texican, by Dane Coolidge, Illustrated by -Maynard Dixon - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Texican - - -Author: Dane Coolidge - - - -Release Date: November 5, 2015 [eBook #50387] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEXICAN*** - - -E-text prepared by Shaun Pinder, Christian Boissonnas, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations in color. - See 50387-h.htm or 50387-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/50387/50387-h/50387-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/50387/50387-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/texicancoolidged00coolrich - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - [++] indicates a caption added by the transcriber. - (Example: [Illustration: [++] Decorative Image.]) - - - - - -THE TEXICAN - - - * * * * * * - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - HIDDEN WATER. With four illustrations in color by Maynard Dixon. - Crown 8vo. $1.35 net. - - A. C. McCLURG & CO., Publishers - CHICAGO - - * * * * * * - - -[Illustration: The calf was like its mother, but she, on account of her -brand and ear-marks, held the entire attention of the Texan - [Chapter IV]] - - -THE TEXICAN - -by - -DANE COOLIDGE - -Author of "Hidden Water" - -With Illustrations in Color by Maynard Dixon - - - - - - - -[Illustration: [++] Decorative image.] - -Chicago -A. C. Mcclurg & Co. -1911 - -Copyright -A. C. McClurg & Co. -1911 - -Published September, 1911 - -Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England - -Press of the Vail Company -Coshocton, U. S. A. - - - - - TO MY OLD FRIEND - - DANE COOLIDGE - - WHO HAS STAYED WITH ME THROUGH ALL MY TROUBLES - THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY - THE AUTHOR - - - - - "Oh, out from old Missouri - I set me forth to roam - Indicted by a jury - For toling hawgs from home. - - "With faithful Buck and Crowder - I crossed the Western plains - Then turned them loose in the Cow-Country - And waited for my gains. - - "And now I'm called a Cattle King - With herds on many a stream— - And all from the natural increase - Of that faithful old ox-team." - _The Song of Good-Eye._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I VERDE CROSSING 11 - - II GOOD EYE, THE MAVERICK KING 22 - - III THE DOUBLE CROSS 32 - - IV THE SHOW-DOWN 46 - - V LOST DOG CAÑON 60 - - VI "THE VOICE OF REASON" 74 - - VII THE REVOLUTION 90 - - VIII THE DAY AFTER 105 - - IX DEATH AND TAXES 123 - - X STAMPEDED 142 - - XI THE CATTLE WAR 156 - - XII MOUNTAIN LAW 173 - - XIII WELCOME HOME 183 - - XIV THE KANGAROO COURT 196 - - XV THE REVOLUTION IN FACT 216 - - XVI BACK TO NATURE 238 - - XVII THE POWER OF THE PRESS 255 - - XVIII THE LAW'S DELAY 278 - - XIX THE LAST CHANCE 295 - - XX THE LAW AND THE EVIDENCE 318 - - XXI NEVER AGAIN 355 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - The calf was like its mother, but she, on - account of her brand and ear-marks, held - the entire attention of the Texan _Frontispiece_ - - Pecos's ever-ready pistol was out and balanced - in his hand 56 - - As the rout went by Angy saw Pecos, tied to his - horse, his arms bound tight to his sides 188 - - "You _will_ turn this jail into a hog-waller, - will you?" he demanded 250 - - She laid a brown hand against the bars as if in - protest and motioned him nearer the screen 312 - - - - -THE TEXICAN - - - - -CHAPTER I - -VERDE CROSSING - - -The languid quiet of midday lay upon the little road-house that stood -guard by Verde Crossing. Old Crit and his wild Texas cowboys had left -the corral at dawn, riding out mysteriously with their running irons in -their chaps; the dogs had crawled under José Garcia's house and gone -to sleep; to the north the Tonto trail stretched away vacant and only -the brawling of the Verde as it rushed over the rocky ford suggested -the savage struggle that was going on in the land. Within the adobe -fort that served for both store and saloon Angevine Thorne, Old Crit's -roustabout, sat tipped back in his chair breathing thoughtfully through -a mouth-organ while a slender Mexican girl, lingering by the doorway, -listened in childish adoration. - -"_Oyez_, Babe," she pleaded, lisping in broken English, "sing 'Work iss -Done' for me, _otra vez_, once more." - -"Yore maw will be singin' a different tune if you don't hurry home -with that lard," counselled Babe, but seeing that she was in no mood -to depart he cleared his throat to sing. "You don't know how bad this -makes me feel, Marcelina," he said, rubbing his hand over his bald spot -and smoothing down his lank hair, "but I'll sing you the first verse—it -ain't so bad." He stood up and turned his eyes to heaven; a seraphic -smile came into his face, as if he saw the angels, and in a caressing -tenor voice he began:-- - - "A jolly group of cowboys, discussing their plans one day - When one says, 'I will tell you something, boys, before - I'm gone away. - I am a cowboy as you see, although I'm dressed in rags. - I used to be a wild one, a-taking on big jags. - I have a home, boys, a good one, you all know, - Although I have not seen it since long ago. - I am going back to Dixie, once for to see them all; - I am going back to Dixie to see my mother when work is done - this Fall. - - "'After the round-ups are over, after the shipping is all done, - I am going to see my mother before my money is all gone. - My mother's heart is breaking, breaking for me, and that's all. - And with God's help I will see her when work is done this Fall.'" - -A pause followed his last words and the singer limped in behind the -counter. "Well, that's all, now," he said, waving her away, "go on -home, child—can't you see it makes me feel powerful bad?" - -The girl smiled with the sweet melancholy of her race. "I like to feel -bad," she said. "Sing about the wind." - -Angevine Thorne looked down upon her and shook his head sadly. "Ah, -Marcelina," he said, "you are growing up to be a woman." Then he sighed -and began again:— - - "That very same night this poor cowboy went out to stand his guard. - The wind was blowing fiercely and the rain was falling hard. - The cattle they got frightened and ran in a mad stampede. - Poor boy, he tried to head them while riding at full speed. - Riding in the darkness so loudly he did shout, - A-trying to head the cattle, a-trying to turn them about, - When his saddled night-horse stumbled and upon him did fall. - Now the poor boy will not see his mother when work is done - this Fall." - -"And now the rest—how he died," breathed Marcelina, and once more the -troubadour smiled. - - "We picked him up so gently and laid him on his bed, - A-standing all around the poor cowboy, a-thinking he was dead, - When he opened wide his blue eyes, looked around and said: - 'Boys, I think those are the last steers I shall ever head. - So Bill, you take my saddle, and Charley, you take my bed, - And George, you take my six-shooter and be sure that I am dead. - I am going to a new range, for I hear my Master's call, - And will not see my aged mother when work is done this Fall. - - "'After the round-ups were over, after the shipping was all done, - I was going to see my mother before my money was all gone. - My mother's heart is breaking, breaking for me and that's all, - And if God had spared my absence I would have seen her - When work was done this Fall.'" - -A rapt silence, such as artists love, followed the last wailing cadence -of the song; the stillness of the desert crept in upon them, broken -only by the murmur of the river and an almost subterranean thud of -hoofs; then with a jingle of spurs and the creaking of wet leather a -horseman rode up and halted before the door. The water sloshed in his -boots as he dismounted but he swung into the store with the grace of a -cavalier—a young man, almost a boy, yet broad-shouldered and muscular, -with features moulded to an expression of singular resolution and -courage. A heavy pair of apron chaps—sure sign of Texas—cumbered his -limbs and the wooden handle of a Colts forty-five showed above its -holster in the right leg; for the rest, he wore a new jumper over his -blue shirt, and a broad, high-crowned hat, without frills. As the -stranger headed for the bar with business-like directness Angevine -Thorne felt a sudden sense of awe, almost of fear, and he wondered for -the instant if it was a hold-up; but the Texan simply dropped a quarter -on the counter and motioned to a bottle. - -"Two," he corrected, as Babe filled a single glass; and, shoving the -second one towards his host, who eyed it with studied unconcern, the -cowboy tossed off his own and looked around. - -"What's the matter?" he inquired, as Babe moved thoughtfully away; -"swore off? All right, you drink the chaser, then," and leaving the -superfluous glass of water on the bar he drank the whiskey himself. - -"Ughr! That's the real old tarantula-juice," he observed, as the fiery -liquor made him shudder. "Since when did you swear off?" - -"Six weeks," responded Babe, shortly. "How's Texas?" - -"All right," replied the cowboy. "Did it git away with you?" - -"Yep," returned the bar-keeper. "Don't like to talk about it—say, is -they anybody left in Texas?" - -The stranger gazed at him shrewdly for a moment, and a grim light came -into his eye. - -"Don't like to talk about it," he said, "but now you speak of it I know -of one feller, for sure—and dam' badly left, too. May be around on -crutches by now." He glanced out at his horse, which had just shaken -itself under the saddle, and let his gaze wander to Marcelina. - -"Pretty girls you have in this country," he remarked, turning a little -sidewise to Babe, but watching her from beneath his hat. "Don't speak -any English, I suppose?" - -"Nope," replied Babe, sullenly, "her mother don't like cowboys. _Oyez, -Marcelina, vaya se a su madre, chiquita!_" But though her mother was -calling, the wilful Marcelina did not move. Like an Aztec princess she -stood silent and impassive, gazing out from beneath her dark lashes -and waiting to catch some further word of praise from this dashing -stranger. Undoubtedly, Marcelina was growing to be a woman. - -"Name's Marcelina, eh?" soliloquized the cowboy, innocently. "Pity she -can't savvy English—she's right pretty, for a Mex." - -At that last unconscious word of derogation the regal beauty of -Marcelina changed to a regal scorn and flashing her black eyes she -strode towards the door like a tragic queen. - -"_Gr-ringo!_" she hissed, turning upon him in the doorway, and seizing -upon her pail of lard she scampered up the trail. - -"Hell's fire!" exclaimed the _Tehanno_. "Did she understand what I -said?" - -"That's what," replied Babe, ungraciously, "you done queered yourself -with her for life. She won't stand for nothin' aginst her people." - -"Huh!" grumbled the newcomer, "that's what comes from drinkin' yore -pisen whiskey. I begin to savvy now, Pardner, why you passed up that -sheep-herder dope and took water." - -He grinned sardonically, making a motion as of a pin-wheel twirling in -his head, but the bar-keeper did not fall in with his jest. "Nothin' -of the kind," he retorted. "W'y, boy, I could drink that whole bottle -and walk a tight rope. I guess you don't know me—I'm Angevine Thorne, -sometimes known as 'Babe'!" He threw out his chest, but the cowboy -still looked puzzled. - -"Did you come through Geronimo," inquired Babe, returning to the -attack, "and never heard of me? Well then, Pardner, I'll have to put -you wise—I'm Angevine Thorne, the Champion Booze-fighter of Arizona!" -He dropped back to his pose and the cowboy contemplated him with grave -curiosity. - -"Mr. Thorne," he said, holding out his hand, "my name is Dalhart—Pecos -Dalhart, from Texas—and I'm proud to make your acquaintance. Won't you -have a drink on the strength of it?" - -"Thank you just as much," replied Mr. Thorne, affably, "but I've sworn -off. I've been the greatest booze-fighter of Arizona for twenty years, -but I've sworn off. Never, never, will I let another drop of liquor -pass my lips! I have been sentenced to the Geronimo jail for life for -conspicuous drunkenness; I have passed my days in riotous living and my -nights in the county jail, but the love of a good mother has followed -me through it all and now I am going to quit! I'm saving up money to go -home." - -"Good for you," commented Pecos Dalhart, with the good-natured -credulity which men confer upon drunkards, "stay with it! But say, not -to change the subject at all, where can I git something to eat around -here? I'm ganted down to a shadder." - -"You're talkin' to the right man, son," returned Babe, hustling out -from behind the bar. "I'm one of the best round-up cooks that ever -mixed the sour-dough—in fact, I'm supposed to be cookin' for Crit's -outfit right now and he just saws this bar-keep job off on me between -times, so's to tempt me and git my money—when I git drunk, you savvy. -He's a great feller, Old Crit—one of the boys up the river has got a -penny Crit passed off on him in the dark for a dime and he swears to -God that pore Injun's head is mashed flat, jest from bein' pinched so -hard. Pinch? W'y, he's like a pet eagle I had one time—every time he -lit on my arm he'd throw the hooks into me—couldn't help it—feet built -that way. An' holler! He'd yell _Cree_ so you c'd hear him a mile if -anybody tried to steal his meat. Same way with Crit. Old Man Upton over -here on the Tonto happened to brand one of his calves once and he's -been hollerin' about that maverick ever since. You've heard of this war -goin' on up here, hain't you? Well that's just Old Crit tryin' to git -his revenge. If he's burnt one U calf he's burnt a thousand and they -ain't cowboys enough in Texas to hold up his end, if it ever comes to -fightin'. This here is the cow-camp—throw yore horse in the corral over -there and I'll cook up a little chuck—jest about to eat, myse'f." - - - - -CHAPTER II - -GOOD EYE, THE MAVERICK KING - - -Angevine Thorne was still talking mean about his boss when the cowboys -came stringing back from their day's riding, hungry as wolves. At the -first dust sign in the northern pass the round-up cook had piled wood -on the fire to make coals and as the iron-faced punchers rode up he -hammered on a tin plate and yelled:— - -"Grub pile! Come a-runnin'!" - -They came, with the dirt of the branding still on their faces and -beards and their hands smeared with blood. Each in turn glanced -furtively at Pecos Dalhart, who sat off at one side contemplating the -landscape, grabbed a plate and coffee cup and fell to without a word. -Last of all came Isaac Crittenden, the Boss, tall, gaunt, and stooping, -his head canted back to make up for the crook in his back and his one -good eye roving about restlessly. As he rode in, Pecos glanced up and -nodded and then continued his industry of drawing brands in the dust. -The Boss, on his part, was no more cordial; but after the meal was -finished he took another look at the newcomer, spoke a few words with -the cook, and strolled over for a talk. - -"Howdy, stranger," he began, with a quick glance at the brands in the -sand; "travellin' far?" - -"Nope," responded Pecos, "jest up the trail a piece." - -A shadow crossed the Boss's face—Upton's was "up the trail a piece"—but -he did not follow that lead. - -"Know any of them irons?" he inquired, pointing to the sand-drawings, -which represented half the big brands between the Panhandle and the -Gila. - -"Sure thing," replied the cowboy, "I've run 'em." - -"And burnt 'em, too, eh?" put in Crittenden, shrewdly; but Pecos -Dalhart was not as young as he looked. - -"Not on your life," he countered, warily, "that don't go where I come -from." - -"Of course not, of course not," assented the cowman, instantly -affecting a bluff honesty, "and it don't go here, neither, if any one -should inquire. A man's brand is his property and he's got a right -to it under the law. I've got a few cows here myself—brand IC on the -ribs—and I'd like to see the blankety-blank that would burn it. I'd -throw 'em in the pen, if it was the last act. Where you travellin'?" - -He jerked this out as a sort of challenge, and the cowboy rose to his -feet. - -"Upton's," he said briefly. - -"Upton's!" repeated Crittenden, "and what do you figure on doin' up -there?" - -"Well, I heard he was a good feller to work for—thought I'd take on for -a cow hand." - -Pecos stated the proposition judicially, but as he spoke he met the -glowering glance of Crittenden with a cold and calculating eye. -The cattle-stealing war between John Upton of Tonto Basin and Old -Crit of Verde Crossing was no secret in Arizona, though the bloody -Tewkesbury-Graham feud to the north took away from its spectacular -interest and reduced it to the sordid level of commercialism. It -was, in fact, a contest as to which could hire the nerviest cowboys -and run off the most cattle, and Pecos Dalhart knew this as well as -Isaac Crittenden. They stood and glared at each other for a minute, -therefore, and then Old Crit broke loose. - -"Whoever told you that John Upton is a good feller is a liar!" he -stormed, bringing his fist down into his hand. "He's jest a common, -low-down cow-thief, as I've told him to his face; and a man that will -steal from his friends will do anything. Now, young man, before we go -any farther I want to tell you what kind of a reptile John Upton is. -Him and me run our cattle over in Tonto Basin for years, and if we'd -ever have any question about a calf or a _orehanna_ I'd always say, -'Well, take 'im, John,' jest like that, because I didn't want to have -no racket with a friend. But they's some people, the more you give in -to 'em the more they run it over you, and they come a day when I had to -put my foot down and say, 'No, that calf is mine,' and I put my iron on -'im right there. Now that calf was mine, you understand, and I branded -him IC on the ribs, in the corral and before witnesses, accordin' to -law, but about a week afterward when I come across that critter, John -Upton had run a big U after my brand, makin' it ICU. Well, you may -laugh, but that's no kind of a joke to play on a friend and I jest -hopped down off'n my horse and run a figger 2 after it, making it ICU2; -and about the time John Upton gits his funny ICU brand in the book I -goes down and registers ICU2, goin' him one better. Now that's carryin' -a joke pretty far, and I admit it, but Upton wasn't funnin'; that -crooked-nose dastard had set out to steal my cows from the start and, -seein' I'd euchered him on the ICU racket he went ahead and slapped a -big J in front of my IC iron, and began branding my cows into what he -called his Jay-Eye-See brand. Well, that settled it. I'm an honest man, -but when a man steals cows from me I don't know any way to break even -in this country but to steal back, and while he was putting his J's on -my IC critters I jumped in and put IC2's on his U's until he was ready -to quit. He's _afraid_ to burn my brand now—he dassent do it—and so -he's beginnin' to squeal because I've got 'im in the door; but say—" he -beckoned with his head—"come over here by the corral, I want to talk to -you." - -Throughout this long tale of woe Pecos Dalhart had shown but scant -interest, having heard it already, with variations, from Babe. -According to that faithless individual Old Crit would steal fleas -from a pet monkey and skin them for the hide and tallow; his favorite -pastime, outside of cattle-rustling, being to take on cowboys and then -hold out their pay, a rumor which caused Pecos Dalhart to regard him -warily. - -"Now say," began the Boss of Verde Crossing, as soon as they were out -of hearing, "you don't need to go to that hoss-thief Upton in order -to git a job. I'm always lookin' for the right kind of man, myself. -Have you had any experience at this kind of thing?" He went through -the dexterous pantomime of burning a brand through a blanket, but the -cowboy only turned away scornfully. - -"If I had I'd never be dam' fool enough to talk about it," he said. - -"Oho!" observed Crit, rubbing the side of his nose slyly, "you're -travelling for your health, are you?" - -"No!" snarled the Texan. "The only people that are lookin' for me are -tryin' to keep away from me, so you don't need to work that auger any -deeper. Now, Mr. Crittenden, I'm a man of few words—what can I do for -you?" - -"We-ell," began the cowman, and once more he paused to meditate. - -"Since you inquire," continued the cowboy, "I don't mind tellin' you -that I'm travellin' for excitement—and to grab some money. If you've -got any proposition that might appeal to me, spit it out—if not, they's -no harm done." - -"Well, wait a minute!" cried Old Crit, peevishly. - -"My time's valuable," observed Pecos, sententiously. "You can trust me -as good as I can trust you—mebby better. I don't hear nobody accuse you -of being sure pay, but if I take your job I want you to remember that I -draw my money at the end of every month or else I collect and quit. Now -if you can jar that proposition out of your system, I'll listen to it." - -"I guess you'll do," said the cowman, as if quieting his own -misgivings. "I've got a little special work that I want done on the -quiet, markin' over some cows and calves. The man that does it will -have to hide out up in that rough country and I'll pay him—forty -dollars." - -"Eighty," said the Texan. - -"W'y, I'm only payin' my round-up hands thirty," protested Crittenden, -weakly; "I'll give you fifty, though." - -"Eighty, cash," said the cowboy. "You'll make that on the first ten -calves." - -"Sixty!" pleaded Crit. - -"I want my money in my hand at the end of every month," added Pecos, -and then there was a silence. - -"All right," grumbled the cowman, at last, "but you understand I expect -something to show for all that money. Now I want you to go around the -corner thar like you was mad, 'n' saddle up and ride on, like you was -goin' to Upton's. Then when it comes night I want you to ride back -and camp out there by that big ironwood over against the mesa. As -soon as me and the boys are out of sight in the mornin' my Mexican, -Joe Garcia, will come out to you with some grub and take you over to -Carrizo Springs, and I want you to _stay_ there as long as I keep -driftin' U cows in over the Peaks. Now look—here's your job—I want you -to burn every one of them Upton cows over into a Wine-glass"—he made -the figure [Illustration: Y [++] Brand in the shape of a wine-glass.] -in the sand—"and run it on the calves. Savvy? Well, git, then, and -remember what I said about lookin' mad—I don't want my punchers to git -onto this!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE DOUBLE CROSS - - -A month passed, drearily; and while Ike Crittenden and his punchers -gathered U cows on one side of the Four Peaks and shoved them over the -summit Pecos Dalhart roped them as they came in to Carrizo Springs for -water and doctored over their brands. The boys were following in the -wake of Upton's round-up and the brands on the calves were freshly -made and therefore easy to change, but it called for all of Pecos's -professional skill to alter the cow brands to match. In order not to -cause adverse comment it is necessary that the cow and calf shall show -the same mark and since the mother's brand was always old and peeled -Pecos called into requisition a square of wet gunny-sack or blanket -to help give the antique effect. Spreading this over the old U he -retraced the letter through it with a red-hot iron and then extended -the brand downward until it formed a neat Wine-glass ([Illustration: Y -[++] Brand in the shape of a wine-glass.]), scalded rather than seared -into the hair. Such a brand would never look fresh or peel, though it -might grow dim with years, and after working the ear-marks over on cow -and calf the transformation was complete. But while the results of his -labor was a fine little bunch of Wine-glass cows hanging around Carrizo -Springs, to Pecos himself, tying a knot in a buckskin string to count -off each weary day, the month seemed interminable. - -There was a sound of music in the store as he rode into Verde Crossing -and he spurred forward, eager for the sight of a human face and a -chance to sit down and talk. But at the thud of hoofs and the chink of -spurs Angevine Thorne brought his song to an untimely close and, as -Pecos dismounted, Marcelina Garcia slipped out through the door and -started towards home, favoring him in passing with a haughty stare. - -"Good-morning, Mex!" he exclaimed, bowing and touching his heart in an -excess of gallantry, "fine large day, ain't it?" - -"_Gringo!_" shrilled Marcelina, flaunting her dark hair, "_Pendejo -Texano!_ Ahhr!" She shuddered and thrust out her tongue defiantly, -but as the "fool Texan" only laughed and clattered into the store she -paused and edged back towards the door for further observations. - -"W'y, hello, Angy!" cried Pecos, racking jovially up to the bar, "how's -the champeen? Sober as a judge, hey? Well, gimme another shot of that -snake-pisen and if it don't kill me I may swear off too, jest to be -sociable! Say, what does 'pen_day_ho' mean?" He glanced roguishly back -towards the door, where he knew Marcelina was listening, and laughed -when he got the translation. - -"Dam' fool, hey? Well, I thought it was something like that—kinder -p'lite and lady-like, you know. Marcelina hung that on me as I come in, -but I called her a Mex and I'll stand by it. Where's Old Crit?" - -Angevine Thorne drew himself up and regarded the cowboy with grave -displeasure. - -"Mr. Crittenden is out riding," he said, "and I'll thank you not to -refer to the nativity of my friend, Miss Garcia." - -"Certainly not—to be sure!" protested Pecos Dalhart. "If you will jest -kindly give me an introduction to the young lady I'll—" - -"See you in hell first," broke in Angy, with asperity. "Where you been -all the time?" - -"Ramblin' around, ramblin' around," answered Pecos, waving his hand -vaguely. "What's the chances for a little music and song to while the -time away? I'm lonely as a dog." - -"Joe Garcia tells me he's been packin' grub out to you at Carrizo—what -you been doin' in that God-forsaken hole?" - -"Yore friend Joe talks too much," observed Pecos, briefly, "and I -reckon _you_ tell everything you know, don't you? Well and good, then, -I'll keep you out of trouble with the Boss by listenin' to what you -know already. Can you sing the 'Ranger,' or 'California Joe'? No? -Can't even sing 'Kansas,' can you? Well, it's too bad about you, but -I'm going to show you that they's another canary bird on the Verde, -and he can sure sing." With this declaration Pecos leaned back against -the bar, squared his shoulders, and in a voice which had many a time -carolled to a thousand head of cattle burst into a boastful song. - - "Ooh, I can take the wildest bronco - Of the wild and woolly West; - I can back him, I can ride him, - Let him do his level best. - I can handle any creature - Ever wore a coat of hair, - And I had a lively tussle - With a tarnal grizzly bear." - -He glanced slyly towards the door, threw out his chest, and essayed -once more to attract the attention of his girl, if she was anywhere -within a mile. - - "Ooh, I can rope and tie a long-horn, - Of the wildest Texas brand, - And in any disagreement, - I can play a leading hand. - I—" - -A dark mass of hair shading a pair of eyes as black and inquisitive as -a chipmunk's appeared suddenly in the vacant square of the doorway and -instantly the bold cowboy stopped his song. - -"Good-morning, Miss Garcia," he said, bowing low, "won't you come -in—now, Angy, do your duty or I'll beat you to death!" At this hasty -aside Angevine Thorne did the honors, though with a bad grace. - -"Marcelina, this is Mr. Dalhart—you better go home now, your mother's -callin' you." - -"I will not shake hands with a _Texano_!" pronounced Marcelina, -stepping into the open and folding her arms disdainfully. - -"Come on in then and hear the music," suggested Pecos, peaceably. - -"Pah! The _Tehannos_ sing like coyotes!" cried Marcelina, twisting -up her lips in derision. "They are bad, bad men—_mi madre_ say so. -No, I go home—and when you are gone Babe will sing _sweet_ moosic for -me." She bowed, with a little smile for Babe, and glided through the -doorway; and though he lingered about until Old Crit came in, Pecos -Dalhart failed to catch another glimpse of this new queen of his heart. - -It was dusk when Crittenden rode into camp, and at sight of Pecos -Dalhart sitting by the fire the cowman's drawn face, pinched by hunger -and hard riding, puckered up into a knot. - -"What you doin' down here?" he demanded, when he had beckoned him to -one side. - -"Come down for my pay," responded the cowboy, briefly. - -"Your pay," fumed Crittenden, "your pay! What do you need with money up -at Carrizo? Say, have you been gittin' many?" he whispered, eagerly. -"Have they been comin' in on you?" - -"Sure thing. Branded forty-two cows, thirty calves, and sixteen twos. -But how about it—do I draw?" - -"Only thirty calves! W'y, what in the world have you been doin'? I -could pick up that many mavericks on the open range. You must've been -layin' down under a tree!" - -"That's right," agreed Pecos, "and talkin' to myse'f, I was that -lonely. But if you'll kindly fork over that eighty that's comin' to -me we'll call it square, all the same—I only branded about a thousand -dollars' worth of cows for you." - -"Eighty dollars!" cried Old Crit. "W'y, I never agreed to nothin' like -that—I said I'd give you sixty. But I'll tell you what I'll do," he -added, quickly, "I'll make it eighty if you'll go up there for another -month." - -"After I git my first month's pay they will be time to discuss that," -replied Pecos Dalhart, and after a thousand protestations the cowman -finally went down into his overalls and produced the money. - -"Now what about next month?" he demanded, sharply. - -"Nope," said Pecos, pocketing his eighty dollars, "too lonely—too much -trouble collectin' my pay—don't like the job." - -"Give you eighty dollars," urged Crit, "that's a heap o' money for one -month." - -"Nope, this'll last me a while—so long." He started toward the corral -but Crittenden caught him by the arm instantly. - -"Here, wait a minute," he rasped, "what's the matter with you anyhow? -I'm ridin' early and late on my round-up and dependin' on you to finish -this job up! You ain't goin' to quit me right in the middle of it, are -you?" - -"That's what," returned Pecos. "I ain't so particular about brandin' -a maverick once in a while—every cowman does that—but this idee of -stealin' from a man you never saw goes agin' me. I git to thinkin' -about it, an' it ain't right!" - -"Aw, sho, sho, boy," protested Crittenden, "you don't want to mind a -little thing like that—I thought you was a man with nerve. Now here, -I can't stop to go out there now and I want to git that work finished -up—I'll give you _eight-y-five dol-lars_ to stay another month! This -man Upton is the biggest cow-thief in the country," he went on, as -Pecos shook his head, "it ain't stealin' to rob a thief, is it?" - -"Oh, ain't it?" inquired the cow-puncher, gravely, and he smiled grimly -to himself as Crittenden endeavored to set his mind at rest. "All right -then," he said, cutting short the cowman's labored justification of -cattle-rustling, "I'll go you—for a hundred." - -"A hundred!" repeated Crittenden, aghast. "Well, for—all right, all -right," he cried, as Pecos moved impatiently away. "Now you pull out of -here the way you did before and I'll have Joe pack you over some more -grub. A hundred dollars," he murmured, shaking his head at the thought, -"that boy will ruin me." - -Early the next morning Pecos Dalhart rode slowly up the trail that led -to Carrizo Springs and the deserted country beyond, a land where as -yet the cowmen had not extended their sway. To his left rose the sharp -granite spires of the Four Peaks, to the right gleamed the silvery -thread of the Salagua, that mighty river that flowed in from the east; -and all the country between was a jumble of cliffs and buttes and -ridges and black cañons, leading from the mountains to the river. - -"So it ain't no crime to rob a thief, hey?" he muttered, when, topping -the last ridge, he gazed down at Carrizo Springs and across at the -white-worn trail which led into the wilderness beyond. "Well, if that's -the case I might as well search out that country over there and git -busy on Old Crit. A man's a dam' fool to steal a thousand dollars' -worth of cattle and only git eighty dollars for it." - -Three days later, riding by a trail that led ever to the east, Pecos -came upon a narrow valley filled with cottonwoods and wild walnuts and -echoing to the music of running water. A fine brook, flowing down from -the brushy heights of the Peaks, leaped and tumbled over the bowlders -and disappeared through a narrow cleft below, where the two black walls -drew together until they seemed almost to block the cañon. As Pecos -rode cautiously down the creek-bed he jumped a bunch of cattle from -the shade of the alders and, spurring after them as they shambled -off, he saw that they bore the familiar U, even to the young calves. -Undoubtedly they belonged to the same bunch that he had been working -on over at Carrizo Springs—the fresh-branded calves and U cows that -Crittenden was shoving over the Peaks. Riding farther down the gulch -Pecos came upon a cave at the base of the overhanging cliff. In time -past the Indians had camped there, but the ashes of their fires were -bedded and only their crude pictures on the smoke-grimed rocks remained -to tell the tale. It was the cave of Lost Dog Cañon. - -On their trip over the simple-minded José had spoken of a lost cañon -somewhere over in the mountains but Pecos had never dreamed of finding -a paradise like this. According to José the Cañon of Perro Perdito was -haunted by a spirit which was _muy malo_, throwing down great rocks -from the sides of the cañon and howling like a lost dog at night, but -in the broad light of noonday Pecos was undaunted and he rode on into -the tunnel-like box cañon until it pinched down to a mere cleft. It was -an eerie place, but there never was a ghost yet that threw a track like -a cow and, led on by their familiar foot-prints among the rocks, Pecos -forged ahead until he stepped out suddenly into a new world. Behind -him the pent and overhanging walls shut out the light of day but here -the sun was shining into a deep valley where in exquisite miniature -lay parks and grassy meadows, while cathedral spires of limestone, -rising from the cañon floor, joined their mighty flanks to the -rim-rock which shut the whole space in. The glittering waters of the -Salagua, far below, marked a natural barrier to the south and as Pecos -Dalhart looked at the narrow trail which had brought him in he began -instinctively to figure on a drift fence, to close the entrance to the -pocket, and make the hidden valley a mile-wide pasture and corral. All -nature seemed conspiring to make him a cattle-rustler and this hidden -pasture, with its grass and water and the gate opening at his very -door, cast the die. Two days later he moved his camp to Lost Dog Cañon -and flew at the fence with feverish energy. Within a week he had the -box cañon barricaded from wall to wall and then, as the U cows came -down to the creek to drink, he roped them, worked over their brands, -and threw them into his new pasture. By this time, with his tongue in -his cheek, he attached a circle instead of a bar to the U and named his -new brand the Monkey-wrench ([Illustration: [++] Brand in the shape of -a monkey-wrench]). If he had any qualms as to the morality of this last -act Pecos did not let them interfere with his industry in any way. The -ethics of the cattle business will not stand too stern a scrutiny, even -at this late date, and the joke on Old Crit was so primordial in its -duplicity that it obscured the finer moral issues. Like many another -cowman of those early days Pecos Dalhart had made his start with the -running iron and with luck and judgment he might yet be a cattle king. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHOW-DOWN - - -It is a great sensation to feel that you are a prospective cattle -king, but somehow when Pecos Dalhart rode back to Verde Crossing -his accustomed gaiety had fled. There were no bows and smiles for -Marcelina, no wordy exchanges with the garrulous Babe—there is a -difference, after all, between stealing cows for eighty dollars a month -and stealing for yourself, and while a moralist might fail to see the -distinction it showed in its effect on Pecos's spirits. - -"I'm goin' down to Geronimo," he grumbled, after an uneasy hour at -the store, during which he had tried in vain the cheering power of -whiskey; "you can tell Crit I'll be back to-morrow night for my time," -and without volunteering any further information he rode down to -the river, plunged across the rocky ford and was swallowed up in the -desert. Two days later he returned, red-eyed and taciturn, and to all -Babe's inquiries he observed that the Geronimo saloons were the worst -deadfalls west of the Rio Grande, for a certainty. His mood did not -improve by waiting, and when Crittenden finally rode in after his long -day's work he demanded his money so brusquely that even that old-timer -was startled. - -"Well, sho, sho, boy," he soothed, "don't git excited over nothin'! -To be sure I'll pay you your money." He went down into his overalls -with commendable promptitude, but Pecos only watched him in surly -silence. Something in his pose seemed to impress the shifty cowman; he -drew forth a roll of bills and began to count them out, reluctantly. -"Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, a hundred—there it is—now what's all -this racket about?" - -"Nothin'," responded Pecos, stowing away the greenbacks, "but you can -git somebody else to finish up that job." - -"Well, here," snapped the cowman, warming up a little as Dalhart cooled -down, "don't I git no accountin' for this month's work? How many did -you brand and what you quittin' for?" - -"I branded sixty-seven cows, fifty-five calves, and thirty -two-year-olds," replied the cowboy, boldly, and Crittenden, not knowing -in what iron they were branded, chuckled gleefully. - -"Umm," he murmured, "wall, say now, that ain't so bad. Old Upton will -make a buck-jump at the moon when he finds this out. But lookee here, -boy, I'm goin' to be driftin' cows into that country for another month -yet, and that'll be as long as we can brand and ear-mark on account -of the flies in June. Now I want to make a dicker with you for jest -one more month and I'll be generous with you—how about a hundred and -ten—that's pretty nigh four months' wages for a cow-punch!" - -"No, I've done quit!" protested Pecos, vigorously. "Steal your own -cattle! When I want to go into the rustlin' business I'll rustle for -myse'f!" - -"Jest one more month," insisted Old Crit, "I'll give you a hundred and -twenty!" - -The cowboy looked at him a minute and smiled sneeringly. "Well, bein' -as yore money seems to be burnin' a hole in yore pocket," he said, "I -guess I'll have to take it away from you, but I'll tell you right now -I don't approve of this cow-stealin'—it's likely to git a man into -trouble!" - -"All right, all right," said Crittenden, making haste to clinch the -bargain, "a hundred and twenty, then; and they hain't nobody ever been -convicted in Geronimo County yet for stealin' cows, so you don't need -to worry none. Pull your freight, now, and I'll be over later on to see -what you've done." - -As Pecos Dalhart and José Garcia rode up the Carrizo trail the next -morning driving their pack animals before them, the conversation was -chiefly between José and his mules. Pecos did not approve of Mexicans -and José did not approve of Pecos—he had been making love to his girl, -Marcelina. But about a mile out of Verde Crossing they came across an -object that was worthy of comment—an old cow and her calf, both so -curiously marked that no cowboy could pass them unnoticed. The cow was -covered from shoulder to flank with minute red and white spots and, -plastered generously across her face, was a variegated blotch of the -creamy dun color peculiar to Chihuahua stock. The calf was like its -mother, even to the dun face and spotted neck and ears, but she, on -account of her brand and ear-marks, held the entire attention of the -Texan. - -"What brand you call that, Joe?" he inquired, as the old cow -contemplated them from the hillside. - -"_Mi fiero!_" exclaimed the Mexican, proudly tapping himself on the -chest. - -"Oh, it's yourn, is it?" commented Pecos. "Looks like an Injun arrer -struck by lightnin', don't it? Well, these Mexican irons are too many -for me—I see you got winders in her ears!" - -"You bet," assented Joe, "that my mark, un _ventano_, un slash, un -_anzuelo_!" - -"A window, a slash, and an underbit, hey—you don't figure on anybody -stealin' _her_, unless they cut 'er ears off, do you? How many cows you -got?" - -"Oh, six—eight," answered José, pride of possession loosening up his -tongue, "this good milk cow." - -"Milk cow, eh?" repeated Pecos, and then he stopped and pondered a -while. Only the day before he had recorded his Monkey-wrench brand at -Geronimo, although he did not have an honestly acquired cow in the -world—here was a chance to cover his hand. "How much you take for cow, -Joe?" he asked. "I like milk, my camp." - -"You take calf too?" inquired the Mexican, shrewdly. - -"Sure," said Pecos, "give you twenty dollars for the cow and ten for -the calf!" He drew a roll of bills from his pocket and began to peel -them off temptingly. - -"You geev twenty-five for cow," suggested Joe, his slow wits beginning -to move at the sight of real money. - -"All right," said Pecos, briskly, "I'll give you twenty-five for the -cow and five for the calf—but you have to give me bill of sale." - -"_Stawano_," assented the Mexican, "and I vent her when we geet to -camp, too. Dam' Ol' Crit," he observed, as he pocketed the money, "I -work for heem long time—he make me take trade een store—all time in -debt!" - -He threw the spotted cow and calf in with the pack animals and when -they had arrived at Carrizo Springs he roped her and, true to his -promise, ran his Indian arrow brand on her shoulder, thus making her a -living document and memorandum of sale. In the cow country that "vent" -on the shoulder is the only bill of sale required, but Pecos drew up a -formal paper giving the ear-marks and brand, and after Joe had signed -it and gone he roped Old Funny-face again and ran a Monkey-wrench -on her ribs beneath the original mark, all of which is strictly -according to law. After that he herded her close, letting the little -Monkey-wrench calf have all the milk, while he waited expectantly for -Old Crit to drop in. - -At the beginning of his long month of waiting Pecos Dalhart was -watchful and conservative. He branded up all the cattle that had -drifted into Lost Dog Cañon, drove them down into his hidden pasture -and closed the breach in his drift fence—then he moved back to Carrizo -and went soberly about his work. Old Funny-face and her spotted calf -were the only Monkey-wrench cows at Carrizo Springs and though he held -a bill of sale for them Pecos was finally compelled to drive them -over the trail to his Lost Dog pasture in order to keep them from -sneaking back home to Verde Crossing and tipping his hand prematurely -to Isaac Crittenden. He was a hard man, Old Crit, especially when his -pocket-book was touched, and Pecos looked for a gunplay when the Boss -finally found him out; but if Crittenden got wind of his duplicity in -advance he might come over with all his Texas cowboys and wipe Mr. -Pecos Dalhart off the map. So at the start he was careful, running -nothing but Wine-glasses on the U cows that still came drifting in -over the mountains, but as the days went by and his courage mounted up -against the time when he was to face Old Crit a spirit of bravado crept -in on him and made him over-bold. All he wanted now was a show-down, -and he wanted it quick—one Monkey-wrench brand would tell the story. -With a sardonic grin Pecos put his rope on a likely young maverick and -burned a Monkey-wrench on his ribs; then, in order that there should be -no mistake, he worked over the brand on a U cow and put his iron on the -calf. As the last days of the month dragged by and the fighting spirit -within him clamored for action he threw caution to the winds, running a -Monkey-wrench on every cow-brute he caught. - -For weeks Pecos had watched the brow of the hill where the Verde trail -came in, and he wore his six-shooter constantly, even at his branding, -but when at last Crittenden finally rode in on him he was so intent -about his work that he almost overlooked him. Only the fidgeting of -his horse, which was holding the rope taut on a big U cow that he had -strung out, saved him from being surprised at his task and taken at -a disadvantage. One glance was enough—it was Crit, and he was alone. -Pecos stood up and looked at him as he came slowly down the hill—then, -as the cow struggled to get up, he seized his running iron from the -fire, spread a wet sack over her brand, and burned a big Monkey-wrench -through the steaming cloth. - -"Hello!" hailed the cowman, spurring eagerly in on him. "Are you -catchin' many?" - -"Oodles of 'em!" answered Pecos, loosening his tie-down strings and -swinging up on his horse. "Git up there, cow, and show yourse'f off -to the Boss!" He slackened the taut reata that was fastened around -her hind feet and as the old cow sprang up, shaking off the sack, the -smoking Monkey-wrench on her ribs stood out like hand-writing on the -wall. - -"Wh-what's that?" gasped Crit, staring at the mark. "I thought I told -you to run a Wine-glass!" - -"That's right," assented Pecos, dropping his hand to his hip, "but -I got tired of runnin' your old brand, so I studied out a little -improvement!" - -He laughed hectoringly as he spoke and the realization of the fraud -that had been perpetrated upon him made Crittenden reel in the saddle. - -"Hev—hev you recorded that brand?" he demanded, tensely. - -"I certainly have," responded Pecos, "and I didn't see no Wine-glass -registered before me, neither. If I'd been real foxy, like some people -I know, I would've put that in the book too and euchered you out of the -whole bunch. But I'm good-natured, Mr. Crittenden, and bein' as I -was takin' your money I branded most of these U cows in the Wine-glass. -I hope you'll be able to take this reasonable." - -"Reasonable!" screamed Crittenden, "reasonable! W'y, if I wasn't the -most reasonable man on earth I'd shoot you so full of lead it'd take a -wagon to haul you to the graveyard. But you don't know who you're up -against, boy, if you think you can fool me like this—the man don't live -that can give Ike Crittenden the double cross. I been in the business -too long. Now I give you jest five minutes to make me out a bill of -sale for your entire brand, whatever you call it. Ef you _don't_—" - -He rose up threateningly in his stirrups and his one good eye glared -balefully, but Pecos had been expecting something like this for a month -or more and he did not weaken. - -"Go ahead," he said, "my brand is the Monkey-wrench; I come by it as -honest as you come by the Wine-glass, and I'll fight for it. If you -crowd me too hard, I'll shoot; and if you try to run me out of the -country I'll give the whole snap away to Upton." - -"W'y, you son of a—" began the cowman malignantly, but he did not -specify. Pecos's ever-ready pistol was out and balanced in his hand. - -[Illustration: Pecos's ever-ready pistol was out and balanced in his -hand] - -"That'll do, Mr. Crittenden," he said, edging his horse in closer. "I -never took that off o' nobody yet, and 'tain't likely I'll begin with -you. If you're lookin' for trouble you'll find I can accommodate you, -any time—but listen to reason, now. This ain't the first time a cowman -has got himse'f into trouble by hirin' somebody else to do his stealin' -for him—I've been around some, and I know. But they ain't no use of us -fightin' each other—we're both in the same line of business. You leave -me alone and I'll keep shut about this—is it a go?" - -The fires of inextinguishable hate were burning in Old Crit's eye and -his jaw trembled as he tried to talk. - -"Young man," he began, wagging a warning finger at his enemy, "young -man—" He paused and cursed to himself fervently. "How much will you -take for your brand?" he cried, trying to curb his wrath, "and agree to -quit the country?" - -"I ain't that kind of a hold-up," replied Pecos, promptly. "I like this -country and I'm goin' to live here. They's two or three hundred head of -cattle running in here that I branded for you for a hundred and eighty -dollars. They're worth two or three thousand. I've got a little bunch -myself that I picked up on the side, when I wasn't stealin' for you. -Now all I ask is to be left alone, and I'll do the same by you. Is it a -go?" - -The cold light of reason came into Crittenden's fiery orb and glittered -like the hard finish of an agate. - -"Well," he said, grudgingly, "well—oh hell, yes!" He urged his horse -sullenly up the hill. "Another one of them smart Texicans," he -muttered, "but I'll cure him of suckin' eggs before I'm through with -'im." - - - - -CHAPTER V - -LOST DOG CAÑON - - -The silence of absolute loneliness lay upon Lost Dog Cañon like a pall -and to Pecos Dalhart, sprawling in the door of his cave, it seemed as -if mysterious voices were murmuring to each other behind the hollow -gurgling of the creek. From far down the cañon the bawling of cows, -chafing against the drift fence, echoed with dreary persistence among -the cliffs, and the deep subterranean rumbling which gave the place -its bad name broke in upon his meditations like the stirring of some -uneasy devil confined below. On the rim of the black cañon wall that -rose against him a flock of buzzards sat in a tawdry row, preening -their rusty feathers or hopping awkwardly about in petty, ineffectual -quarrels—as shabby a set of loafers as ever basked in the sun. For -a week Pecos had idled about his cave, now building pole houses to -protect his provisions from the rats, now going out to the point to -watch the Verde trail, until the emptiness of it had maddened him. At -first he had looked for trouble—the veiled treachery of some gun-man, -happening in on him accidentally, or an armed attack from Old Crit's -cowboys—but now he would welcome the appearance of Crit himself. In -action Pecos could trust his nerves absolutely, but he chafed at delay -like a spirited horse that frets constantly at the bit. If it was to -be a game of waiting Crittenden had won already. Pecos threw away his -cigarette impatiently and hurried down the cañon to catch his horse. - -"Where's Old Crit?" he demanded when, after a long ride, he stalked -defiantly into the store at Verde Crossing. - -"Damfino," replied Babe, looking up from a newspaper he was reading, -"gone down to Geronimo, I guess." - -"Is he lookin' for me?" inquired Pecos, guardedly. - -"W'y, not so's you notice it," answered the bar-keeper, easily. "It'd -be the first case on record, I reckon, bein' as he owes you money. In -fact, until you collect your last month's pay the chances are good that -you'll be lookin' for him. Did you see the new sign over the door?" - -"No," said Pecos, "what is it?" - -"Post Office!" replied Babe, proudly. "Yes, sir, Old Good Eye has -certainly knocked the persimmon this time and put Verde Crossing on the -map. They's lots of ranchers up and down the river—and you, of course, -over there at Carrizo—and Crit figured it out some time ago that if he -could git 'em to come here for their mail he'd catch their trade in -whiskey; so what does he do but apply to the Post Office Department for -a mail route from here to Geronimo and bid in the contract himself! -Has to send Joe down about once a week, anyhow, you understand, and he -might as well git the Government to pay for it. So you can write home -to your folks now to send your mail to Verde Crossing—tell your girl -too, because if we don't git ten letters a week we lose our route." - -Pecos twisted uneasily on his chair. Like many another good Texan he -was not writing home. - -"Ain't got no girl," he protested, blushing beneath his tan. - -"No?" said Angy, "well that's good news for Marcelina—she was inquirin' -about you the other day. But say, here's some advertisements in this -paper that might interest you. Umm—lemme see, now—'Genuine Diamonds, -rings, earrings, and brooches, dollar forty-eight a piece, to introduce -our new line.' That's pretty cheap, ain't it! 'Always acceptable to -a lady,' it says. Yes, if you don't want 'em yourself you can give -'em away, see? You know, I'm tryin' to git the fellers around here -interested, so's they'll write more letters." - -He threw this out for a feeler and Pecos responded nobly. "Well, go -ahead and order me them rings and earrings," he said, "I'm no cheap -sport. What else you got that's good?" - -Angevine Thorne dropped his paper and reached stealthily for a large -mail-order catalogue on the counter. "Aprons, bath-tubs, curtains, -dishes," he read, running his finger down the index. "Here's some silk -handkerchiefs that might suit you; 'green, red, blue, and yaller, sixty -cents each; with embroidered initials, twenty cents extra.'" - -"I'll go you!" cried the cowboy, looking over his shoulder. "Gimme half -a dozen of them red ones—no squaw colors for me—and say, lemme look at -them aprons." - -"Aprons!" yelled Angy. "Well—what—the—" - -"Aw, shut up!" snarled Pecos, blushing furiously. "Can't you take a -joke? Here, gimme that catalogue—you ain't the only man on the Verde -that can read and write—I've had some schoolin' myself!" - -He retired to a dark corner with the "poor man's enemy" and pored -over it laboriously, scrawling from time to time upon an order blank -which Angy had thoughtfully provided. At last the deed was done, all -but adding up the total, and after an abortive try or two the cowboy -slipped in a twenty-dollar bill and wrote: "Giv me the rest in blue -hankerchefs branded M." Then he sealed and directed the letter and -called on Babe for a drink. - -"How long before I'll git them things?" he inquired, his mind still -heated with visions of aprons, jewelry, and blue handkerchiefs, branded -M,—"two or three weeks? Well, I'll be down before then—they might come -sooner. Where's all the punchers?" - -"Oh, they're down in Geronimo, gettin' drunk. Round-up's over, now, and -Crit laid 'em off. Gittin' kinder lonely around here." - -"Lonely!" echoed Pecos. "Well, if you call this lonely you ought to -be out in Lost Dog Cañon, where I am. They's nothin' stirrin' there -but the turkey-buzzards—I'm gittin' the willies already, jest from -listenin' to myself think. Say, come on out and see me sometime, can't -you?" - -"Nope," said Babe, "if you knew all the things that Crit expects me -to do in a day you'd wonder how I git time to shave. But say, what you -doin' out there, if it's a fair question?" - -"Who—me? Oh, I've made me a little camp over in that cave and I'm -catchin' them wild cattle that ooze along the creek." He tried to make -it as matter-of-fact as possible, but Angevine Thorne knew better. - -"Yes, I've heard of them wild cows," he drawled, slowly closing one -eye, "the boys've been driftin' 'em over the Peaks for two months. -Funny how they was all born with a U on the ribs, ain't it?" - -"Sure, but they's always some things you can't explain in a cow -country," observed Pecos, philosophically. "Did Crit tell you anything -about his new iron? No? Called the Wine-glass—in the brand book by this -time, I reckon." - -"Aha! I see—I see!" nodded Angy. "Well, Old Good Eye wants to go easy -on this moonlightin'—we've got a new sheriff down here in Geronimo -now—Boone Morgan—and he was elected to put the fear of God into the -hearts of these cowmen and make 'em respect the law. W'y, Crit won't -even pay his taxes, he's that ornery. When the Geronimo tax-collector -shows up he says his cows all run over in Tonto County; and when the -Tonto man finally made a long trip down here Crit told _him_ his -cows all ran in Geronimo County, all but a hundred head or so, and -John Upton had stole them. The tax-collectors have practically give -up tryin' to do anything up here in the mountains—the mileage of the -assessor and collector eats up all the profits to the county, and -it's easier to turn these cowmen loose than it is to follow 'em up. -This here Geronimo man jumped all over Crit last time he was up here, -but Crit just laughed at him. 'Well,' he says, 'if you don't like the -figgers I give, you better go out on the range and count them cows -yourself, you're so smart.' And what could the poor man do? It'd cost -more to round up Old Crit's cattle than the taxes would come to in a -lifetime. But you want to look out, boy," continued Angy earnestly, -"how you monkey around with them U cattle—Boone Morgan is an old-timer -in these parts and he's likely to come over the hill some day and catch -you in the act." - -"Old Crit says they never was a man sent up in this county yet for -stealin' cattle," ventured Pecos, lamely. - -"Sure not," assented Angevine Thorne, "but they's been a whole lot of -'em killed for it! I don't suppose he mentioned that. Have you heard -about this Tewkesbury-Graham war that's goin' on up in Pleasant Valley? -That all started over rustlin' cattle, and they's over sixty men killed -already and everybody hidin' out like thieves. A couple of Crit's bad -punchers came down through there from the Hash-knife and they said -it was too crude for them—everybody fightin' from ambush and killin' -men, women, and children. I tell you, it's got the country stirred up -turrible— that's how come Boone Morgan was elected sheriff. The people -down in Geronimo figured out if they didn't stop this stealin' and -rustlin' and alterin' brands pretty soon, Old Crit and Upton would lock -horns—or some of these other cowmen up here in the mountains—and the -county would go bankrupt like Tonto is, with sheriff's fees and murder -trials. No, sir, they ain't been enough law up here on the Verde to -intimidate a jackrabbit so far—it's all down there in Geronimo, where -they give me that life sentence for conspicuous drunkenness—but you -want to keep your ear to the ground, boy, because you're goin' to hear -something drap!" - -"What d'ye think's goin' to happen, Babe?" asked the cowboy, uneasily. -"Old Crit can't be scared very bad—he's laid off all his punchers." - -"Huh! you don't know Crit as well as I do," commented Babe. "Don't -you know those punchers would've quit anyhow, as soon as they got -their pay? He does that every year—lays 'em off and then goes down -to Geronimo about the time they're broke, and half of 'em in jail, -mebby, and bails 'em out. He'll have four or five of 'em around here -all summer, workin' for nothin' until the fall round-up comes off. I -tell you, that man'll skin a flea anytime for the hide and taller. You -want to keep out of debt to him or he'll make you into a Mexican peon, -like Joe Garcia over here. Joe's been his corral boss and teamster -for four years now and I guess they's a hundred dollars against him -on the books, right now. Will drink a little whiskey once in a while, -you know, like all the rest of us, and the Señora keeps sendin' over -for sugar and coffee and grub, and somehow or other, Joe is always -payin' for a dead horse. Wouldn't be a Mexican, though," observed Babe, -philosophically, "if he wasn't in debt to the store. A Mexican ain't -happy until he's in the hole a hundred or so—then he can lay back and -sojer on his job and the boss is afraid to fire 'im. There's no use of -his havin' anything, anyhow—his relatives would eat 'im out of house -and home in a minute. There was a Mexican down the river here won the -grand prize in a lottery and his relatives come overland from as far as -Sonora to help him spend the money. Inside of a month he was drivin' -a wood-wagon again in order to git up a little grub. He was a big man -while it lasted—open house day and night, _fiestas_ and _bailes_ and a -string band to accompany him wherever he went—but when it was all over -old Juan couldn't buy a pint of whiskey on credit if he was snake-bit. -They're a great people, for sure." - -"That's right," assented Pecos, absently, "but say, I reckon I'll be -goin'." The social qualities of the Spanish-Americans did not interest -him just then—he was thinking about Boone Morgan. "Gimme a dollar's -worth of smoking tobacco and a box of forty-fives and I'll hit the -road." - -"There's one thing more you forgot," suggested Angevine Thorne, as he -wrapped up the purchases. - -"What—Marcelina?" ventured Pecos, faintly. - -"Naw—your _mail_!" cried Angy, scornfully, and dipping down into a -cracker box he brought out a paper on the yellow wrapper of which was -printed "Pecos Dalhart, Verde Crossing, Ariz." - -"_I_ never subscribed for no paper!" protested Pecos, turning it over -suspiciously. "Here—I don't want it." - -"Ump-umm," grunted Angy, smiling mysteriously, "take it along. All the -boys git one. You can read it out in camp. Well, if you're goin' to be -bull-headed about it I'll tell you. Crit subscribed for it for every -man in Verde—only cost two-bits a year. Got to build up this mail route -somehow, you know. It's called the _Voice of Reason_ and it's against -the capitalistic classes." - -"The which?" inquired Pecos, patiently. - -"Aw, against rich fellers—these sharks like Old Crit that's crushin' -the life outer the common people. That's the paper I was showin' -you—where they was advertisin' diamonds for a dollar forty-eight a -piece." - -"Oh," said Pecos, thrusting it into his chaps, "why didn't you say so -before? Sure, I'll read it!" - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -"THE VOICE OF REASON" - - -The fierce heat of summer fell suddenly upon Lost Dog Cañon and all the -Verde country—the prolonged heat which hatches flies by the million -and puts an end to ear-marking and branding. Until the cool weather -of October laid them and made it possible to heal a wound there was -nothing for Pecos to do but doctor a few sore ears and read the _Voice -of Reason_. Although he had spent most of his life in the saddle the -school-teacher back on the Pecos had managed to corral him long enough -to beat the three R's into him and, being still young, he had not yet -had time to forget them. Only twenty summers had passed over his head, -so far, and he was a man only in stature and the hard experience of his -craft. He was a good Texan—born a Democrat and taught to love whiskey -and hate Mexicans—but so far his mind was guiltless of social theory. -That there was something in the world that kept a poor man down he -knew, vaguely; but never, until the _Voice of Reason_ brought it to his -attention, had he heard of the conspiracy of wealth or the crime of -government. Not until, sprawling at the door of his cave, he mumbled -over the full-mouthed invective of that periodical had he realized what -a poor, puny creature a wage-slave really was, and when he read of the -legalized robbery which went on under the name of law his young blood -boiled in revolt. The suppression of strikes by Pinkertons, the calling -out of the State Militia to shoot down citizens, the blacklisting of -miners, and the general oppression of workingmen was all far away and -academic to him—the thing that gripped and held him was an article on -the fee system, under which officers of the law arrest all transient -citizens who are unfortunate enough to be poor, and judges condemn them -in order to gain a fee. - -"_Think, Slave, Think!_" it began. "You may be the next innocent man to -be thrown into some vile and vermin-infested county-jail to swell the -income of the bloated minions who fatten upon the misery of the poor!" - -Pecos had no difficulty in thinking. Like many another man of -wandering habits he had already tasted the bitterness of "ten dollars -or ten days." The hyenas of the law had gathered him in while he was -innocently walking down the railroad track and a low-browed justice of -the peace without asking any useless questions had sentenced him to -jail for vagrancy. Ten days of brooding and hard fare had not sweetened -his disposition any and he had stepped free with the firm determination -to wreak a notable revenge, but as the sheriff thoughtfully kept his -six-shooter Pecos had been compelled to postpone that exposition of -popular justice. Nevertheless the details of his wrongs were still -fresh in his mind, and when he learned from the _Voice of Reason_ -that the constable and judge had made him all that trouble for an -aggregate fee of six dollars Pecos was ready to oppose all law, in -whatsoever form it might appear, with summary violence. And as for the -capitalistic classes—well, Pecos determined to collect his last month's -pay from Old Crit if he had to take it out of his hide. - -When next he rode into Verde Crossing the hang-dog look which had -possessed Pecos Dalhart since he turned rustler was displaced by a -purposeful frown. He rolled truculently in the saddle as he came down -the middle of the road, and wasted no time with preliminaries. - -"Where's that blankety-blank Old Crit?" he demanded, racking into the -store with his hand on his hip. - -"Gone down to Geronimo to git the mail," replied Babe, promptly. - -"Well, you tell him I want my pay!" thundered Pecos, pacing up and down. - -"He'll be back to-night, better stay and tell him yourself," suggested -Babe, mildly. - -"I'll do that," responded Pecos, nodding ominously. "And more'n -that—I'll collect it. What's doin'?" - -"Oh, nothin'," replied Babe. "There was a deputy assessor up here the -other day and he left this blank for you to fill out. It gives the -number of your cattle." - -"Well, you tell that deputy to go to hell, will you?" - -"Nope," said Babe, "he might take me with him. It happens he's a deputy -sheriff, too!" - -"Deputy,—_huh_!" grumbled Pecos, morosely. "They all look the same to -me. Did Crit fill out his blank?" - -"Sure did. Reported a hundred head of Wine-glasses. Now what d'ye think -of that?" - -Pecos paused and meditated on the matter for an instant. It was -doubtful if Crittenden could gather more than a hundred head of -Wine-glasses, all told. Some of them had drifted back to their old -range and the rest were scattered in a rough country. "Looks like that -deputy threw a scare into him," he observed, dubiously. "What did he -say about my cattle?" - -"Well, he said you'd registered a new brand and now it was up to you to -show that you had some cattle. If you've got 'em you ought to pay taxes -on 'em and if you haven't got any you got no business with an iron that -will burn over Upton's U." - -"Oh, that's the racket, is it? Well, you tell that deputy that I've got -cattle in that brand and I've got a bill of sale for 'em, all regular, -but I've yet to see the deputy sheriff that can collect taxes off of -me. D'ye think I'm goin' to chip in to help pay the salary of a man -that makes a business of rollin' drunks and throwin' honest workingmen -into the hoosegatho when he's in town? Ump-um—guess again!" - -He motioned for a drink and Babe regarded him curiously as he set out -the bottle. - -"You been readin' the _Voice_, I reckon," he said, absent-mindedly -pouring out a drink for himself. "Well, say, did you read that article -on the fee system? It's all true, Pardner, every word of it, and more! -I'm a man of good family and education—I was brought up right and my -folks are respectable people—and yet every time I go to Geronimo they -throw me into jail. Two-twenty-five, that's what they do it for—and -there I have to lay, half the time with some yegg or lousy gang of -hobos, until they git ready to turn me loose. And they call that -justice! Pecos, I'm going back to Geronimo—I'm going to stand on the -corner, just the way I used to when I was drunk, and tell the people -it's all _wrong_! You're a good man, Pecos—Cumrad—will you go with me?" - -Pecos stood and looked at him, wondering. "Comrade" sounded good to -him; it was the word they used in the _Voice of Reason_—"Comrade Jones -has just sent us in four more subscriptions. That's what throws a crook -into the tail of monopoly. Bully for you, Comrade!" But with all his -fervor he did not fail to notice the droop to Angy's eyes, the flush on -his cheeks, and the slack tremulousness of his lips—in spite of his -solemn resolutions Angy had undoubtedly given way to the Demon Drink. - -"Nope," he said, "I like you, Angy, but they'd throw us both in. You'd -better stay up here and watch me put it on Crit. 'Don't rope a bigger -bull than you can throw,' is my motto, and Old Crit is jest my size. -I'm goin' to comb his hair with a six-shooter or I'll have my money—and -then if that dog-robber of a deputy sheriff shows up I'll—well, he'd -better not crowd me, that's all. Here's to the revolution—will you -drink it, old Red-eye?" - -Angy drank it, and another to keep it company. - -"Pecos," he said, his voice tremulous with emotion, "when I think how -my life has been ruined by these hirelings of the law, when I think -of the precious days I have wasted in the confinement of the Geronimo -jail, I could rise up and _destroy_ them, these fiends in human form -and their accursed jails; I could wreck every prison in the land -and proclaim liberty from the street-corners—whoop!" He waved one -hand above his head, laughed, and leapt to a seat upon the bar. "But -don't you imagine f'r a moment, my friend," he continued, with the -impressive gravity of an orator, "that they have escaped unscathed. -It was not until I had read that wonderful champion of the common -people, the _Voice of Reason_, that I realized the enormity of this -conspiracy which has reduced me to my present condition, but from -my first incarceration in the Geronimo jail I have been a Thorne in -their side, as the Geronimo _Blade_ well said. I remember as if it -were yesterday the time when they erected their first prison, over -twenty years ago, on account of losing some hoss-thieves. It was a new -structure, strongly built of adobe bricks, and in a spirit of jest the -town marshal arrested me and locked me up to see if it was tight. That -night when all was still I wrenched one of the iron bars loose and dug -my way to freedom! But what is freedom to revenge? After I had escaped -I packed wood in through the same hole, piled it up against the door, -and set the dam' hell-hole afire!" - -He paused and gazed upon Pecos with drunken triumph. "That's the kind -of an _hombre_ I am," he said. "But what is one determined man against -a thousand? When the citizens of Geronimo beheld their new calaboose -ruined and in flames they went over the country with a fine-tooth comb -and never let up until they had brought me back and shackled me to -the old Cottonwood log down by the canal—the one they had always used -before they lost the hoss-thieves. That was the only jail they had -left, now that the calaboose was burned. In vain I pleaded with them -for just one drink—they were inexorable, the cowardly curs, and there -they left me, chained like a beast, while they went up town and swilled -whiskey until far into the night. As the first faint light of morning -shot across the desert I awoke with a terrible thirst. My suffering -was awful. I filled my mouth with the vile ditch-water and spat it out -again, unsatisfied—I shook my chains and howled for mercy. But what -mercy could one expect from such a pack of curs? I tested every link -in my chain, and the bolt that passed through the log—then, with the -strength of desperation I laid hold upon that enormous tree-trunk and -rolled it into the water! Yes, sir, I rolled the old jail-log into the -canal and jumped straddle of it like a conqueror, and whatever happened -after that I knew I had the laugh on old Hickey, the Town Marshal, -unless some one saw me sailing by. But luck was with me, boy; I floated -that big log clean through town and down to Old Manuel's road-house—a -Mexican deadfall out on the edge of the desert—and swapped it for two -drinks of mescal that would simply make you scream! By Joe, that liquor -tasted good—have one with me now!" - -They drank once more, still pledging the revolution, and then Angy -went ahead on his talking jag. "Maybe you've heard of this Baron -Mun-chawson, the German character that was such a dam' liar and -jail-breaker the king made a prison to order and walled him in? Well, -sir, Mun-chawson worked seven years with a single nail on that prison -and dug out in spite of hell. But human nature's the same, wherever -you go—always stern and pitiless. When those Geronimo citizens found -out that old Angy had stole their cottonwood log and traded it to a -wood-chopper for the drinks, they went ahead and built a double-decked, -steel-celled county jail and sentenced me to it for life! Conspicuous -drunkenness was the charge—and grand larceny of a jail—but answer me, -my friend, is this a free country or is the spirit that animated our -forefathers dead? Is the spirit of Patrick Henry when he cried, 'Give -me liberty or give me death,' buried in the oblivion of the past? Tell -me that, now!" - -"Don't know," responded Pecos, lightly, "too deep a question for me—but -say, gimme one more drink and then I'm goin' down the road to collect -my pay from Crit. I'm a man of action—that's where I shine—I refer -all such matters to Judge Colt." He slapped his gun affectionately -and clanked resolutely out of the door. Half a mile down the river -he sighted his quarry and rode in on him warily. Old Crit was alone, -driving a discouraged team of Mexican horses, and as the bouquet of -Pecos's breath drifted in to him over the front wheel the Boss of Verde -Crossing regretted for once the fiery quality of his whiskey. - -"I come down to collect my pay," observed Pecos, plucking nervously at -his gun. - -"Well, you don't collect a cent off of me," replied Crit, defiantly, "a -man that will steal the way you did! Whenever you git ready to leave -this country I might give you a hundred or so for your brand, but you -better hurry up. There was a deputy sheriff up here the other day, -lookin' for you!" - -"Yes, I heard about it," sneered Pecos. "I reckon he was lookin' for -evidence about this here Wine-glass iron." - -A smothered curse escaped the lips of Isaac Crittenden, but, being old -at the game, he understood. There was nothing for it but to pay up—and -wait. - -"Well, what guarantee do I git that you don't give the whole snap -away anyhow?" he demanded, fiercely. "What's the use of me payin' you -anything—I might as well keep it to hire a lawyer." - -"As long as you pay me what you owe me," said Pecos, slowly, "and -treat me square," he added, "I keep my mouth shut. But the minute you -git foxy or try some ranikaboo play like sayin' the deputy was after -me—look out! Now they was a matter of a hundred and twenty dollars -between us—do I git it or don't I?" - -"You git it," grumbled Crittenden, reluctantly. "But say, I want you -to keep away from Verde Crossing. Some of them Wine-glass cows have -drifted back onto the upper range and John Upton has made a roar. More -than that, Boone Morgan has undertook to collect our taxes up here and -if that deputy of his ever gits hold of you he's goin' to ask some -mighty p'inted questions. So you better stay away, see?" - -He counted out the money and held it in his hand, waiting for consent, -but Pecos only laughed. - -"Life's too short to be hidin' out from a deputy," he answered, -shortly. "So gimme that money and I'll be on my way." He leaned over -and plucked the bills from Crit's hand; then, spurring back toward the -Crossing he left Old Crit, speechless with rage, to follow in his dust. - -A loud war-whoop from the store and the high-voiced ranting of -Babe made it plain to Crit that there was no use going there—Angy -was launched on one of his periodicals and Pecos was keeping him -company—which being the case there was nothing for it but to let them -take the town. The grizzled Boss of Verde stood by the corral for a -minute, listening to the riot and studying on where to put in his time; -then a slow smile crept over his hardened visage and he fixed his -sinister eye on the adobe of Joe Garcia. All was fair, with him, in -love or war, and Marcelina was growing up to be a woman. - -"Joe," he said, turning upon his corral boss, "you tell your wife I'll -be over there in a minute for supper—and say, I want you to stay in the -store to-night; them crazy fools will set the house afire." - -"_Stawano_," mumbled José, but as he turned away there was an angry -glint in his downcast eye and he cursed with every breath. It is not -always pleasant, even to a Mexican, to be in debt to the Boss. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE REVOLUTION - - -The coyotes who from their seven hills along the Verde were accustomed -to make Rome howl found themselves outclassed and left to a thinking -part on the night that Pecos Dalhart and Angevine Thorne celebrated -the dawn of Reason. The French Revolution being on a larger scale, -and, above all, successful, has come down in history as a great social -movement; all that can be said of the revolution at Verde Crossing -is packed away in those sad words: it failed. It started, like most -revolutions, with a careless word, hot from the vitriolic pen of some -space-writer gone mad, and ended in that amiable disorder which, for -lack of a better word, we call anarchy. Whiskey was at the bottom of -it, of course, and it meant no more than a tale told by an idiot, -"full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." At the same time, it -managed by degrees to engross the entire attention of Verde Crossing -and after the fall of the Bastile, as symbolized by the cracking of a -bottle, it left Pecos and Babe more convinced than ever that the world -was arrayed against them. - -In the early part of the evening, according to orders, José Garcia -watched them furtively through the open door, returning at intervals, -however, to peer through the window of his own home. At each visit -it seemed to him that Angy was getting drunker and the Boss more -shameless in his attentions to Marcelina. At last, when he could stand -the strain no longer, he threw in with the merry roisterers, leaving -it to the Señora to protect the dignity of their home. A drink or -two mellowed him to their propaganda—at the mention of Crit he burst -into a torrent of curses and as the night wore on he declared for the -revolution, looking for his immediate revenge in drinking up all the -Boss's whiskey. In the end their revelry rose to such a height that -Crittenden was drawn away from his rough wooing and finally, under the -pretence of delivering the United States mail, he walked boldly in upon -them, determined to protect his property at any risk. The penalty for -interfering with the United States mail, as everybody who has ever read -the card on a drop-box knows, is a fine of $1,000, or imprisonment, or -both. In defence of that precious packet Crittenden could have killed -all three of them and stood justified before the law, but although he -had a reputation as a bad man to crowd into a corner, Old Crit was not -of a sanguinary disposition. No man could hold down a bunch of gun-men -of the kind that he employed in his predatory round-ups and not have a -little iron in his blood, but the Boss of Verde Crossing had seen all -too well in his variegated career the evils which cluster like flies -about an act of violence, and he was always for peace—peace and his -price. - -"Here; here, here," he expostulated, as he found Angy in the act of -drinking half a pint of whiskey by measure, "you boys are hittin' it -pretty high, ain't ye?" - -"The roof's the limit," replied Babe, facetiously. "As the Champeen -Booze-fighter of Arizona I am engaged in demonstratin' to all beholders -my claim to that illustrious title. Half a pint of whiskey—enough to -kill an Injun or pickle a Gila-monster—and all tossed off at a single -bout, like the nectar of the gods. Here's to the revolution, and to -hell with the oppressors of the poor!" - -"That's right," chimed in Pecos, elevating his glass and peering -savagely over its rim at the Boss, "we done declared a feud against -the capitulistic classes and the monneypullistic tendencies of the -times. Your game's played out, Old Man; the common people have riz in -their might and took the town! Now you go away back in the corner, -d'ye understand, and sit down—and don't let me hear a word out of you -or I'll beat the fear o' God into you with _this_!" He hauled out his -heavy six-shooter and made the sinister motions of striking a man over -the head with it, but Crit chose to ignore the threat. - -"All right," he said, feigning an indulgent smile, "you boys seem to -be enjoyin' yourselves, so I'll jest deliver this United States mail -as the law requires and leave you to yourselves." He stepped in behind -the bar, chucked a couple of demijohns of whiskey into the corner where -they might be overlooked, and threw the mail pouch on the counter. - -"Better come up and git your mail, boys," he observed, dumping -the contents out for a lure. "Hey, here's a package for you, Mr. -Dalhart—something pretty choice, I 'spect. Nothin' for you, Joe," he -scowled, as his faithless retainer lurched up to claim his share. -"Here's your paper, Babe. Letter for you, Mr. Dalhart," he continued, -flipping a large, official envelope across the bar, "you're developin' -quite a correspondence!" He ducked down behind the counter, grinning at -his stratagem, and while Pecos and Babe were examining their mail he -managed to jerk the money drawer open and slip the loose change into -his pockets. - -"Well, we'll be goin' home now, Joe," he said, taking the corral -boss briskly by the arm. "Come on, _hombre_, you ain't got no mail!" -Under ordinary circumstances José would have followed peaceably, thus -reducing the revolutionary forces to a minimum, but the covert insult -to his daughter, magnified by drink, had fired his Latin blood. - -"No, Señor," he replied, fixing his glittering eyes upon the hateful -boss. "_Yo no go! Carramba, que malo hombre!_ You dam' coward, -Creet—you scare my wife—you scare—" - -"Shut up!" hissed Crit, hastily cuffing him over the head. "Shut your -mouth or I'll—" - -"_Diablo!_" shrieked the Mexican, striking back blindly. "I keel you! -You have to leave _mi niña_ alone!" - -"What's that?" yelled Angevine Thorne, leaping with drunken impetuosity -into the fray, "hev you been—" - -"Leave him to me!" shouted Pecos, wading recklessly into -the scrimmage. "I'll fix the blankety-blank, whatever -he's gone and done! Throw him loose, boys; I'll take the -_one-eyed_—_hump-backed_—_dog-robbin'_—_dastard_"—he accompanied each -epithet with a blow—"and tie 'im into a bow knot!" He grabbed Old Crit -out of the _mêlée_ and held him against the wall with a hand of iron. -"What do you mean by slappin' my friend and cumrad?" he thundered, -making as if to annihilate him with a blow. "I want you to understand, -Old Cock Eye, that Mr. Garcia is my friend—he comes from a fine old -Spanish family, away down in Sonory, and his rights must be respected! -Ain't that so, Angy?" - -"From the pure, Castilian blood," declaimed Angy, waving his hand -largely, "a gentleman to whom I take off my hat—his estimable wife and -family—" - -"Now here, boys," broke in Crittenden, taking his cue instantly, "this -joke has gone far enough. Mr. Garcia's wife asked me to bring him -home—you see what his condition is—and I was tryin' to do my best. -Now jest take your hand off of me, Mr. Dalhart—yes, thanks—and Angy, -you see if you can't git 'im to go home. A man of family, you know," he -went on, craftily enlisting their sympathies, "ought to—" - -"Sure thing!" responded Angevine Thorne, lovingly twining his arm -around his Spanish-American comrade. "Grab a root there, Pecos, and -we'll take 'im home in style!" - -"Wait till I git my package!" cried Pecos, suddenly breaking his hold, -and he turned around just in time to see Crit skipping out the back -door. - -"Well, run then, you dastard!" he apostrophized, waving one hand as he -tenderly gathered up his mail-order dry goods. "I can't stop to take -after ye now. This here package is f'r my little Señorita, Marcelina, -and I'm goin' to present it like a gentleman and ast her for a kiss. -Hey, Angy," he called, as he re-engaged himself with José, "how do you -say 'kiss' in Spanish? Aw, shut up, I don't believe ye! Stan' up here, -Joe—well, it don't sound good, that's all—I'm goin' to ast her in U. -S., and take a chance!" - -The procession lurched drunkenly up the road and like most such was not -received with the cordiality which had been anticipated. The Señora -Garcia was already furious at Old Crit and when Pecos Dalhart, after -delivering her recreant husband, undertook to present the dainty aprons -and the blue handkerchiefs, marked M, which he had ordered specially -for her daughter, she burst into a torrent of Spanish and hurled them -at his head. "_Muy malo_," "_borracho_," and "_vaya se_," were a few of -the evil words which followed them and by the gestures alone Pecos knew -that he had been called a bad man and a drunkard and told in two words -to go. He went, and with him Angy, ever ready to initiate new orgies -and help drown his sorrows in the flowing cup. The noise of their -bacchanalia rose higher and higher; pistol-shots rang out as Pecos shot -off the necks of bottles which personified for the moment his hated -rival; and to Crit, lingering outside the back door, it seemed as if -their howling and ranting would never cease. It was no new experience -for him to break in on one of Angy's jags, but things were coming too -high and fast with Pecos Dalhart present, and he decided to wait for -his revenge until they were both thoroughly paralyzed. - -"But what is this 'cumrad' talk and them yells for the revolution?" he -soliloquized, as Angy and Pecos returned to their religion. "Is it a -G. A. R. reunion or has Joe worked in a Mexican revolution on us? Yes, -holler, you crazy fools; it'll be Old Crit's turn, when you come to pay -the bills." - -The first gray light of dawn was striking through the door when -Crittenden tip-toed cautiously into the store and gazed about at the -wreckage and the sprawling hulks of the revellers. Pecos lay on his -face with his huge silver mounted spurs tangled in the potato sack that -had thrown him; and Babe, his round moon-face and bald crown still -red from his unrestrained potations, was draped along the bar like a -shop kitten. Old Crit shook him roughly and, receiving no response, -turned his attention to Pecos Dalhart. His first care was to snap the -cartridges out of his six-shooter and jamb the action with a generous -handful of dirt; then he felt his pockets over carefully, looking for -his roll, for Pecos had undoubtedly consumed a great deal of liquor and -ought not to be deprived of the cowboy's privilege of waking up broke. -But as luck would have it he was lying upon his treasure and could -not pay his reckoning. The only article of interest which the search -produced was a grimy section of a newspaper, stored away in his vest -pocket, and Crit seized upon it eagerly. It was a not uncommon failing -of Texas bad men, as he knew them, to carry newspaper accounts of their -past misdeeds upon their persons and he unfolded the sheet with the -full expectation of finding a sheriff's offer of reward. - -"_It's a crime to be Poor!!!_" was the heading, "And the penalty is -hard labor for life!" it added, briefly. There is something in that, -too; but philosophy did not appeal to Crittenden at the moment—he was -looking for Pecos Dalhart's name and the record of his crime. "The -grinding tyranny of the capitalistic classes—" he read, and then his -eye ran down the page until he encountered the words: "Yours for the -Revolution!" and "Subscribe for the _Voice of Reason_!" Then a great -light came over him and he gnashed his teeth in a fury. - -"Well, the dam', yaller, two-bit-a-year sheet!" he raved, snatching -a fresh copy of the _Voice of Reason_ from the sacred United States -mail and hastily scanning its headlines, "and if these crazy fools -hain't gone and took it serious!" He tore it in two and jumped on it. -"Two-bits a year!" he raged, "and for four-bits I could've got the -_Fireside Companion_!" He rummaged around in the box and gathered up -every copy, determined to hurl them into the fireplace, but on the way -the yellow wrapper with the United States stamp arrested his eye, -and he paused. After all, they were United States mail—penalty for -destroying $1,000—and would have to go back into the box. - -"Well," he grumbled, dumping them sullenly back, "mebby it was that -new bar'l of whiskey—I s'pose they've got to holler about something -when they're drunk, the dam' eejits!" He strode up and down the floor, -scowling at the unconscious forms of the roisterers who had beaten him -the night before—then he turned back and laid violent hands upon Angy. - -"Git off'n there, you low-down, lazy hound!" he yelled, dragging him -roughly to the floor. "You _will_ start a revolution and try to kill -your boss, will you? _You're fired!_" he shouted when, after a liberal -drenching, he had brought Babe back to the world. - -"Well, gimme my pay, then," returned Angy, holding out his hand and -blinking. - -"You don't git no pay!" declared Crit, with decision. "Who's goin' to -pay for all that liquor that was drunk last night? Look at them empty -bottles, will you? You go and bring in all your friends and open up -the town and the next mornin' I look in the till and they ain't a dam' -cent!" - -"Well, I want my pay," reiterated Babe, drunkenly. "I been workin' a -long time, now—I'm goin' to draw my money an' go home! '_My mother's -heart is breakin', breakin' f'r me, an' that's all_—'" he crooned, and, -rocking to and fro on the floor, he sang himself back to sleep. - -Old Crit watched him a moment, sneering; then with vindictive -exultation he turned his attention to Pecos. "Git up," he snarled, -kicking the upturned soles of his feet, "this ain't no bunk-house! -Git out'r here, now; you been pesterin' around these parts too long!" -He seized the prostrate cowboy by his broad shoulders and snaked him -summarily out the door, where he lay sprawling in the dirt, like -a turtle on its back, a mock of his strong, young manhood. To the -case-hardened Babe the venom of Old Crit's whiskey was no worse than -a death-potion of morphine to an opium fiend, but Pecos was completely -paralyzed by the poison. He responded neither to kicks and man-handling -nor to frequent dashes of water and at last Crittenden dragged him -out behind the corral and left him there, a sight for gods and men. -The Garcia dogs crept up furtively and sniffed at him and the Señora -pointed him out to her children as an awful example of _Texano_ -depravity, and also as the bad man who had corrupted their _papa_. Even -Marcelina wavered in her secret devotion, but after he had finally -clambered up on his horse and ridden blindly off toward Lost Dog Cañon -the thought of those blue silk handkerchiefs, branded M, rose up in her -mind and comforted her. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE DAY AFTER - - -In a land where the desert is king the prolonged absence of even so -undesirable a citizen as Pecos Dalhart is sure, after a while, to -occasion comment. For Pecos had ridden out on the Carrizo trail without -water, and the barren mesa had already claimed its dead from thirst. -He was also hardly in his right mind, and though his horse knew the -way home he might easily have arrived there without his master. José -Garcia was the first to mention the matter to Old Crit, and received a -hearty cursing for his pains. Another week passed by, making three, and -still the cowboy did not come in for his mail. The bunch of dissipated -punchers who lingered around the bunk-house under pretence of riding -the range finally worked up quite a hectic interest in the affair, but -none of them volunteered to make a search. The chances were that Mr. -Dalhart, if still alive, was in an ugly mood—perhaps locoed by Crit's -well-known brand of whiskey—and it would be dangerous for an IC man to -ride in on him. As for Crit, his asperity wore down a little as the -days of absence lengthened away; he retracted several statements which -he had made to the effect that he hoped the blankety-blank was dead, -and when one of Boone Morgan's deputies finally rode in to investigate -the rumor he told him he was afraid the poor fellow had wandered out -across the desert and perished of hunger and thirst. - -Bill Todhunter was Boone Morgan's regular mountain deputy—sent out to -look into all such affairs as this, and incidentally to get evidence -which would come handy in the big tax-collecting that was being planned -for the fall. He asked a few questions, whistled through his teeth -and pondered the matter for a while, meanwhile scrutinizing the hard -countenance of his informant with the speculative cynicism of his -profession. This was not the first sad case that he had looked into -where a man who was not really needed in the community had mysteriously -disappeared, and in one desert tragedy which he had in mind the corpse -had assayed more than a trace of lead. - -"Did this man Dalhart ever fill out that assessor's blank I left for -'im?" he inquired, after a long pause, meanwhile squatting down and -drawing cattle brands in the dirt. - -"Don't know," replied Crit, shortly. - -"Let's see, his brand was a Wine-glass, wasn't it?" - -"Nope—Monkey-wrench." - -"Oh, yes! Sure! I knew they was two new irons in there, but I got 'em -mixed. The Wine-glass is yourn, ain't it?" - -Crittenden nodded sullenly. It was the particular phase of his -relations with Pecos Dalhart which he would rather not discuss with an -officer. As for the deputy, he spun the wheel in his spur, whistled -"Paloma," and looked out toward the east. - -"Has he got any mail here waitin' for 'im?" he asked, rising slowly -from his heels. "Well, you better give it to me, then—and a little -grub. I've always wanted to take a look at that Lost Dog country, -anyway." - -It was a long trail and the tracks were a month old, but Pecos's had -been the last shod horse to travel it and what few cattle there were -in the country had not been able to obscure the shoe-marks. Following -those ancient signs Bill Todhunter worked his way gradually into what -had been up to that time, No Man's Land, not forgetting to count the -Wine-glass cattle as he passed the water holes. Not so many years -before the Apaches had held full sway over all the Tonto and Verde -country and when the first settlers came in they had naturally located -along the rivers, leaving the barren mountains to the last. It was -a long way from nowhere, that mysterious little Lost Dog Cañon, and -when the deputy rode into it looking for a man whose trail was a month -old he felt the sobering influence of its funereal cliffs. Black and -forbidding, they bent bodingly over the tiny valley with its grove -of cottonwoods and wild walnuts, and upon the western rim a squalid -group of buzzards dozed as if they had made a feast. At the edge of -the stream Todhunter reined in his horse, but though his flanks were -gaunted the animal would not drink. Instead he raised his head and -snuffed the air, curiously. It looked ominous, for they were at the -end of the trail and the tracks still pointed in. The deputy spurred -nervously across the stream, still with his eye out for signs, and -fetched up with a jerk. There, fresh and clean in the moist sand, were -the imprints of a man's boots, coming down to the water—and not once or -twice, but a dozen times. - -"Ahem," coughed Todhunter, turning into the path, "stan' up hyar, -bronc—what's the matter with you!" He jerked his unoffending horse out -of the trail and clattered him over the rocks, for your true officer -does not crowd in with drawn pistol on a man he cannot see. The deputy -was strictly a man of peace—and he tried to look the part. His badge -was pinned carefully to the inside flap of his vest and if he had a gun -anywhere it did not show. He swung his quirt in one hand, idly slapping -it against his chaps, and then, having offered every sign that he came -openly and as a friend, he rode cautiously up to the camp. - -There was a fire smouldering upon a stone-walled mound at the entrance -to the cave and beside it, reclining in a rustic chair, sat Pecos -Dalhart—watchful, silent, alert. In one hand he held a cigarette and -the other supported a grimy newspaper which he had been reading. Behind -him on tall poles were boxes filled with food, protected by tin cans, -mushroomed out around the posts to keep the rats from climbing. His -saddle was hung up carefully on a rack and his carbine leaned against -the chair where he was sitting, but though he had seen no one for a -month Pecos barely glanced up from his paper as the stranger drew near. - -"How'd do," observed the deputy, sitting at ease in his saddle. - -"Howdy," Pecos grunted, and languidly touching his dead cigarette to -a coal he proceeded with his reading. Todhunter looked his camp over -critically, took note of the amount of food stored in the rat-proof -boxes and of the ingenious workmanship on the rustic chair; then his -eyes wandered back and fixed themselves on Pecos. Instead of the -roistering boy he had expected he beheld a full-grown man with a -month's growth of curly beard and his jaw set like a steel-trap, as -if, after all, he was not unprepared for trouble. His hat, however, -was shoved back carelessly on his bushy head, his legs crossed, and -his pose was that of elegant and luxurious ease. To the left arm of -his chair he had attached a horse's hoof, bottom up, in the frog of -which he laid his cigarettes; to the right was fastened a little box -filled with tobacco and brown papers, and the fire, smouldering upon -its altar, was just close enough to provide a light. Evidently the -lone inhabitant of the cañon had made every endeavor to be comfortable -and was not above doing a little play-acting to convey the idea of -unconcern, but the deputy sheriff did not fail to notice the carbine, -close at hand, and the pistol by his side. It seemed to him also that -while his man was apparently deeply immersed in his month-old paper, -his eyes, staring and intent, looked past it and watched his every -move. The conversation having ceased, then, and his curiosity having -been satisfied, Bill Todhunter leaned slowly back to his saddle bags -and began to untie a package. - -"Are you Mr. Dalhart?" he inquired, as the cowboy met his eye. - -"That's my name," replied Pecos, stiffly. - -"Well, I've got s'm' papers for you," observed the deputy, -enigmatically, and if he had been in two minds as to the way Pecos -would take this statement his doubts were instantly set at rest. At the -word "papers"—the same being used for "warrants" by most officers of -the law—the cowboy rose up in his chair and laid one hand on the butt -of his revolver. - -"Not for me!" he said, a cold, steely-blue look comin' into his eyes. -"It'll take a better man than you to serve 'em!" - -"These are newspapers," corrected the deputy, quietly. "Yore friends -down on the Verde, not havin' seen you for some time, asked me to take -out yore mail and see if you was all right." - -"Oh!" grunted Pecos, suspiciously. - -"And, bein' as you seem to be all O. K.," continued Todhunter, -pacifically, "I'll jest turn 'em over to you and be on my way." He -threw the bundle at his feet, wheeled his horse and without another -word rode soberly down the trail. - -"Hey!" shouted Pecos, as the stranger plunged through the creek, but if -Todhunter heard him he made no sign. There are some people who never -know when to go, but Bill Todhunter was not that kind. - -"No, you bet that feller ain't dead," he observed, when Crittenden and -the chance residents of Verde Crossing gathered about him to hear the -news. "He's sure up an' comin', and on the prod bigger 'n a wolf. I -wouldn't like to say whether he's quite right in the head or not but I -reckon it'll pay to humor 'im a little. He'll be down here for grub in -about another week, too." - -The week passed, but not without its happenings to Verde Crossing. The -first event was the return of Angevine Thorne from Geronimo, after a -prolonged stay in the city Bastile. Crit sent the bail money down by -Todhunter immediately upon hearing the news that Pecos Dalhart was -alive and on the prod. The only man on the Verde who had any influence -with Pecos was his old "cumrad," Babe, and Crittenden was anxious to -get that genial soul back before Pecos came in for supplies. But the -same buckboard that brought the Champion of Arizona back to his old -haunts took his little friend Marcelina away, and the only reason the -Señora would give was that her daughter was going to school. In vain -Babe palavered her in Spanish and cross-questioned the stolid José. The -fear of her lawless wooer was upon them—for were they not in debt to -Crit—and not even by indirection would the fiery Señora give vent to -the rage which burned in her heart. - -"This is not a good place for my daughter," she said, her eyes -carefully fixed upon the ground. "It is better that she should go to -the Sisters' school and learn her catechism." So Marcelina was sent -away from the evil men of Verde, for she was already a woman; but in -the haste of packing she managed to snatch just one of the forbidden -blue handkerchiefs, branded M. - -It was a sombre welcome which awaited the lone rustler of Lost Dog -Cañon when, driven perforce to town, he led his pack-horse up to the -store. For a minute he sat in his saddle, silent and watchful; then, -throwing his bridle-reins on the ground, he stalked defiantly through -the door. A couple of IC cowboys were sitting at the card-table in the -corner, playing a three-handed game of poker with Angy, and at sight of -him they measured the distance to the door with their eyes. - -"W'y, hello there, Pecos!" cried Angy, kicking over the table in his -haste to grasp him by the hand. "Where you been all the time—we thought -for a time here you was dead!" - -"Might as well 'a been," said Pecos, gruffly, "for all anybody _give_ a -dam'!" - -"Why? What was the matter? Did you git lost?" - -"I lay out on the mesa for two days," answered the cowboy, briefly, -"and about a month afterwards a feller come out to my camp to see -if I was dead. This is a hell of an outfit," he observed, glancing -malevolently at the IC cowboys, "and by the way," he added, "where was -_you_ all the time, Angy?" - -Angevine Thorne's lips trembled at this veiled accusation and he -stretched out his hands pleadingly. "I swear, Pardner," he protested, -"I never heard a word about it until last Saturday! I was in the -Geronimo jail." - -"Oh!" said Pecos, and without more words he gave him his own right -hand. The cowboys, who had been uneasy witnesses of the scene, seized -upon this as a favorable opportunity to make their escape, leaving the -two of them to talk it out together. - -"What in the world happened to us, Angy?" demanded Pecos in a hushed -voice, when the effusion of reconciliation had passed, "did Crit put -gun-powder in our whiskey or was it a case of stuffed club? I was plumb -paralyzed, locoed, and cross-eyed for a week—and my head ain't been -right since!" He brushed his hand past his face and made a motion as of -catching little devils out of the air, but Angy stayed his arm. - -"Nothin' like that, Pecos," he pleaded, hoarsely, "I'm on the ragged -edge of the jim-jams myself, and if I get to thinkin' of crawly things -I'll sure get 'em! No, it was jest that accursed liquor! I don't know -what happened—I remember Crit takin' me down to Geronimo and givin' -me five dollars and then it was all a dream until I found myself in -the jag-cell. But it's the liquor that does it, Pecos—that and the -capitalistic classes and the officers of the law. They's no hope for -the common people as long as they keep on drinkin'—there's always some -feller like Crit to skin 'em, and the constables to run 'em in. It's a -conspiracy, I tell you; they're banded together to drug and rob us—but, -Pardner, there is one man who is going to balk the cowardly curs. -Never, never, never, will I let another drop of liquor pass my lips!" -He raised his hand to heaven as he swore the familiar oath, hoping and -yet not hoping that some power would come down to him to help him fight -his fate. "Will you join me, Cumrad?" he asked, laying hold of Pecos's -shoulder. "You will? Well, let's shake on it—here's to the revolution!" - -They shook, and turned instinctively toward the bar, but such a pledge -cannot be cemented in the usual manner, so Angy led the way outside and -sought a seat in the shade. - -"Where's my little friend Marcelina?" inquired Pecos, after a long look -at the white adobe with the brush _ramada_ which housed the Garcia -family, "hidin' behind a straw somewhere?" - -"Gone!" said Angy, solemnly. "Gone, I know not where." - -"What—you don't mean to say—" cried Pecos, starting up. - -"Her mother sent her down to Geronimo the day that I came up," -continued Babe, winking fast. "It looks as if she fears my influence, -but she will not say. Poor little Marcelina—how I miss her!" He wiped -his eyes with the back of his hand and shook his head sadly. "Verde -ain't been the same to me since then," he said, "an' life ain't worth -livin'. W'y, Pecos, if I thought we done something we oughten to when -we was drunk that time I'd go out and cut my throat—but the Señora is -powerful mad. Kin you recollect what went on?" - -A vision of himself trying to barter his mail-order package for a kiss -flashed up before Pecos in lines of fire, but he shut his lips and -sat silent. The exaltation and shame of that moment came back to him -in a mighty pang of sorrow and he bowed his head on his arms. What -if, in the fury of drink and passion, he had offered some insult to -his Señorita—the girl who had crept unbeknown into his rough life and -filled it with her smile! No further memory of that black night was -seared into his clouded brain—the vision ended with the presentation -of the package. What followed was confined only to the limitations of -man's brutal whims. For a minute Pecos contemplated this wreck of all -his hopes—then, from the abyss of his despair there rose a voice that -cried for revenge. Revenge for his muddled brain, for the passion -which came with drink: revenge for his girl, whom he had lost by some -foolish drunken freak! He leapt to his feet in a fury. - -"It's that dastard, Crit!" he cried, shaking his fists in the air. "He -sold us his cussed whiskey—he sent us on our way! And now I'm goin' to -git him!" - -Angy gazed up at him questioningly and then raised a restraining hand. - -"It's more than him, Cumrad," he said solemnly. "More than him! If -Crit should die to-morrow the system would raise up another robber to -take his place. It's the System, Pecos, the System—this here awful -conspiracy of the capitalistic classes and the servile officers of the -law—that keeps the poor man down. Worse, aye, worse than the Demon -Rum, is the machinations which puts the power of government into the -monopolistic hands of capital and bids the workingman earn his bread -by the sweat of his brow. There is only one answer to the crime of -government—the revolution!" - -"Well, let 'er go then," cried Pecos, impulsively. "The revolution she -is until the last card falls—but all the same I got my eye on Crit!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -DEATH AND TAXES - - -The iron hand of the law after hovering long above the Verde at last -descended suddenly and with crushing force upon the unsuspecting -cowmen. For a year Boone Morgan had been dallying around, even as other -sheriffs had done before him, and the first fears of the wary mountain -men had speedily been lulled into a feeling of false security. Then the -fall round-ups came on and in the general scramble of that predatory -period Morgan managed to scatter a posse of newly appointed deputies, -disguised as cowboys, throughout the upper range. They returned and -reported the tally at every branding and the next week every cowman -on the Verde received notice that his taxes on so many head of -cattle, corral count, were due and more than due. They were due for -several years back but Mr. Boone Morgan, as deputy assessor, deputy -tax-collector, and so forth, would give them a receipt in full upon the -payment of the fiscal demand. This would have sounded technical in the -mouth of an ordinary tax-collector but coming from a large, iron-gray -gentleman with a six-shooter that had been through the war, it went. -Upton paid; Crittenden paid; they all paid—all except Pecos Dalhart. - -It was at the store, shortly after he had put the thumb-screws on Ike -Crittenden and extracted the last ultimate cent, that Boone Morgan -tackled Pecos for his taxes. He had received a vivid word-picture of -the lone resident of Lost Dog from his deputy, Bill Todhunter, and -Pecos had been equally fortified against surprise by Angevine Thorne. -They came face to face as Pecos was running over the scare-heads of the -_Voice of Reason_, and the hardy citizens of Verde Crossing held their -breaths and listened for thunder, for Pecos had stated publicly that -he did not mean to pay. - -"Ah, Mr. Dalhart, I believe," began the sheriff in that suave and -genial manner which most elected officials have at their command. "Glad -to meet you, Mr. Dalhart. There's a little matter of business I'd like -to discuss, if you'll jest step outside a moment. Yes, thank you. -Nice weather we're having now—how's the feed up on your range? That's -good—that's fine. Now, Mr. Dalhart, I don't suppose you get your mail -very regular, and mebby you ain't much of a correspondent anyway, but -my name's Morgan—I'm a deputy tax-collector right now—and I'd like to -have you fill out this blank, giving the number of assessable cattle -you have. Sent you one or two by mail, but this is jest as good. Sorry, -you understand, but the county needs the money." - -"Yes, I'm sorry, too," observed Pecos, sardonically, "because it'll -never git none from me." - -"Oh, I dunno," replied the sheriff, sizing his man up carefully, -"Geronimo County has been able to take care of itself, so far; and when -I put the matter in its proper light to men who have been a little -lax in the past—men like Upton and Mr. Crittenden, for instance—they -seem perfectly willing to pay. These taxes are to support the county -government, you understand—to build roads and keep up the schools and -all that sort of thing—and every property-owner ought to be glad to do -his share. Now about how many head of cows have you got up at Lost Dog -Cañon?" - -"I've got jest about enough to keep me in meat," answered Pecos, -evasively. - -"Um, that'd be about two hundred head, wouldn't it?" - -Two hundred was a close guess, and this unexpected familiarity with -his affairs startled the cowboy, but his face, nevertheless, did not -lose its defiant stare. Two hundred was really the difference between -what U cows Upton had lost last spring and the total of Crittenden's -Wine-glass bunch, and Boone Morgan was deeply interested in the -whereabouts of that particular two hundred head. To Old Crit, this -tax-collecting was only a mean raid on his pocket-book—to Morgan it was -the first step in his campaign against cattle rustling. When he had -determined the number of head in every brand he might be able to prove -a theft—but not till then. - -"Call it two hundred," he suggested, holding out the paper -encouragingly, but Pecos drew back his hand scornfully. - -"Not if it was a cow and calf," he said, "I wouldn't pay a cent. D'ye -think I want to pay a government of robbers? What does yore dam' -government do for me, or any other pore man, but make us trouble?" - -"Well, sometimes that's all a government can do for a certain class of -people," observed the sheriff, eying him coldly, "and I'd like to say -right now, Mr. Dalhart, that in such a case it can make a hell of a lot -of trouble." - -Pecos grunted. - -"Now, jest for instance," continued Morgan, warming up a little, "in -case you don't pay your taxes on them two hundred head of cattle I can -get judgment against you, seize any or all of 'em, and sell the whole -shooting-match for taxes. I'll do it, too," he added. - -"Well, turn yoreself loose, then," flared back Pecos, "the bars are -down. But I'll tell you right now, the first deputy tax-collector -that puts a rope on one of my cows, I'll bounce a rock off'n him—or -something worse!" - -"I ain't accustomed to take no threats, Mr. Dalhart," bellowed Boone -Morgan, his temper getting away with him, "and especially from a -man in your line of business! Now you go your way, and go as far -as you please, but if I don't put the fear of God into your black, -cattle-rustling heart my name is 'Sic 'em' and I'm a dog. I'll collect -them taxes, sir, _next week_!" - -"Like hell you will," snarled Pecos, throwing out his chin. He scowled -back at the irate officer, cast a baleful glance at the IC punchers, -and mounted from the far side of his horse, but when he rode away Ike -Crittenden went out behind the corral and laughed until he choked. -After all the trouble this man Dalhart had made him, just to think of -him locking horns with Boone Morgan! And all from his crazy reading of -the _Voice of Reason_! The memory of his own enforced tax-paying fell -away from him like a dream at the thought of Pecos Dalhart putting up a -fight against the sheriff of Geronimo County, and on the strength of it -he took a couple of drinks and was good-natured for a week. - -If Pecos had had some self-appointed critic to point out just how -foolish he was he might have seen a new light, gathered up about twenty -head of Monkey-wrench steers and sold them to pay his taxes; but his -only recourse in this extremity was to the _Voice of Reason_, and -whatever its other good qualities are, that journal has never been -accused of preaching moderation and reason. It was war to the knife -with Pecos, from the jump, and the day after his return he took his -carbine, his cigarette makings, and the last _Voice of Reason_ and -went up the trail to lie in wait for Boone Morgan. The country around -Lost Dog Cañon is mostly set on edge and the entrance to the valley is -through a narrow and crooked ravine, filled with bowlders and faced -with sun-blackened sandstone rocks, many of which, from some fracture -of their weathered surface, are pock-marked with giant "wind-holes." -Into one of these natural pockets, from the shelter of which a single -man could stand off a regiment, Pecos hoisted himself with the dawn, -and he did not leave it again till dark. As the wind came up and, -sucking in through the opening, hollowed out each day its little more, -the loose sand from the soft walls blew into Pecos's eyes and he gave -up his fervid reading; but except for that and for the times when -from the blackness of his cavern he searched the narrow trail for his -enemies, he pored over the _Voice of Reason_ as a Christian martyr -might brood over his Bible. It was his religion, linked with that far -more ancient religion of revenge, and if Boone Morgan or any other -deputy tax collector had broken in upon his reveries they certainly -would have stopped something worse than a bouncing stone. - -But no one played into his hand to that extent. They say the Apaches -educated the whole United States army in the art of modern warfare and -Boone Morgan as a frontier Indian fighter had been there to learn his -part. In the days when Cochise and Geronimo were loose he had travelled -behind Indian scouts over all kinds of country, and one of the first -things he had mastered was the value of high ground. He had learned -also that one man in the rocks is worth a troop on the trail and while -he was gathering up a posse to discipline Pecos Dalhart he sent Bill -Todhunter ahead to prospect. For two long days that wary deputy haunted -the rim-rock that shut in Lost Dog Cañon, crawling on his belly like -a snake, and at last, just at sundown, his patience was rewarded by -the sight of the lost Pecos, carbine in hand, rising up from nowhere -and returning to his camp. As the smoke rose from his newly lighted -fire Todhunter slipped quietly down the ravine and, stepping from rock -to rock, followed the well-trampled trail till he came to the mouth -of the wind-cave. Peering cautiously in he caught the odor of stale -tobacco smoke and saw the litter of old papers on the sandy floor, -signs enough that Pecos lived there—then, as the strategy and purpose -of the cattle-rustler became plain, he picked his way back to his -lonely camp and waited for another day. With the dawn he was up again -and watching, and when he saw Pecos come back and hide himself in his -wind-cave he straightened up and set about his second quest—the search -for the Monkey-wrench cattle. At the time of his first visit to Lost -Dog he had seen a few along the creek but there must be more of them -down the cañon, and the farther away they could be found the better -it would suit his chief. It was not Boone Morgan's purpose to start a -war—all he wanted was enough Monkey-wrench cattle to pay the taxes, -and a way to get them out. The indications so far were that Pecos had -them in a bottle and was waiting at the neck, but if the water ran -down the cañon there must be a hole somewhere, reasoned the deputy, or -better than that, a trail. Working his way along the rim Bill Todhunter -finally spied the drift-fence across the box of the cañon, and soon -from his high perch he was gazing down into that stupendous hole in -the ground that Pecos had turned into a pasture. From the height of -the towering cliffs the cattle seemed like rabbits feeding in tiny -spots of green, but there they were, more than a hundred of them, and -when the deputy beheld the sparkling waters of the Salagua below them -and the familiar pinnacles of the Superstitions beyond he laughed and -fell to whistling "Paloma" through his teeth. Boone Morgan had hunted -Apaches in the Superstitions, and he knew them like a book. With one -man on the rim-rocks to keep tab on Pecos, Boone and his posse could -take their time to it, if there was any way to get in from that farther -side. Anyhow, he had located the cattle—the next thing was to get word -to the Old Man. - -As a government scout Boone Morgan had proved that he was fearless, -but they did not keep him for that—they kept him because he brought -his men back to camp, every time. The effrontery of Pecos Dalhart's -daring to challenge his authority had stirred his choler, but when -Bill Todhunter met him at the river and told him how the ground lay he -passed up the temptation to pot Pecos as he crawled out of his hole in -the rock, and rode for the lower crossing of the Salagua. The trail -which the hardy revolutionist of Lost Dog Cañon was guarding was, -indeed, the only one on the north side of the river. From the pasture -where his cows were hidden the Salagua passed down a box cañon so deep -and precipitous that the mountain sheep could not climb it, and even -with his cowboy-deputies Boone Morgan could hardly hope to run the -Monkey-wrench cows out over the peaks without drawing the fire of their -owner. But there was a trail—and it was a bad one—that led across the -desert from the Salagua until it cut the old Pinal trail, far to the -south, and that historic highway had led many a war party of Apaches -through the very heart of the Superstitions. East it ran, under the -frowning bastions of the great mountain, and then northeast until it -came out just across the river from Pecos Dalhart's pasture. It was a -long ride—sixty miles, and half of it over the desert—but the river was -at its lowest water, just previous to the winter rains, and once there -Boone Morgan felt certain they could make out to cross the cattle. - -"And mind you, boys," he said to his posse, as they toiled up the -wearisome grade, "don't you leave a single cow in that pasture or I'm -going to be sore as a goat. The county pays mileage for this, and the -taxes will be a few cents, too—but I'm going to put one rustler out of -business at the start by a hell-roaring big sheriff's sale. I'm going -to show some of these Texas hold-ups that Arizona ain't no cow-thief's -paradise—not while old Boone's on the job." - -The second night saw them camped on the edge of the river just across -from the pasture, and in the morning they crossed on a riffle, every -man with his orders for the raid. By noon the cattle began to come -down the valley, tail up and running before the drive; not a word was -spoken, for each man knew his business, but when the thirsty herd of -Monkey-wrench cows finally waded out into the river to drink, a sudden -rush of horsemen from behind crowded the point animals into swimming -water, and before the leaders knew what had happened they were half way -across the river and looking for a landing. - -"_Ho—ho—ho—ho—ho!_" shouted the sheriff, riding in to turn them -upstream, and behind him a chorus of cowboy yells urged the last -bewildered stragglers into the current. They crossed, cows and calves -alike, and while the jubilant posse came splashing after them or rode -howling up to the ford Boone Morgan poured the water out of his boots -and smiled pleasantly. - -"Jest hold 'em in the willows a while, boys," he said, "until they git -quieted down and drink, and then we'll hit the trail. There's over a -hundred head of cattle there, but I'm going to sell every dam' one -of 'em—sheriff's sale. Then when that crazy Texican gets back on the -reservation I'll give him back his money—what's left—along with some -good advice." - -He motioned to the boys to string the cattle out and soon in a long -line the much-stolen Monkey-wrench cows were shambling over the rough -trail, lowing and bellowing for the peaceful valley that lay empty of -its herd. From the high cliffs above Lost Dog Cañon, Bill Todhunter -saw the slow procession wending its way toward town and he made haste -to follow its example. The old silence settled down upon the valley -of Perro Perdito, a silence unbroken even by the lowing of cattle, -and as Pecos lay by his fire that night he felt the subtle change. -His mind, so long set against his enemies, opened up, and he began to -wonder. Boone Morgan had certainly said he would collect those taxes -within a week, and the week was up. Moreover, hiding in a wind-hole -from daylight till dark was getting decidedly monotonous. From the -beginning Pecos had realized that he was one man against many but he -had hoped, by remaining hid, to catch them at a disadvantage. If they -sneaked up and looked over into the lonely cañon they might easily -think he had fled and come in boldly—but somehow nothing came out as he -had expected. He slept on the matter, and woke again to that peculiar -hushed silence. What was it that he missed? His horses were safe in -their pole corral; Old Funny-face and her speckled calf were still -hanging around the camp; the cattle were along the creek as usual—ah, -yes! It was the lowing of cows against the drift-fence bars! With a -vigorous kick he hurled his blanket aside, stamped on his boots and -ran, only stopping to buckle on his six-shooter. At the bars he paused -long enough to see that there were no fresh tracks and then dashed down -the pent-in gorge that led to the pasture rim. The shadow of the high -cliffs lay across the sunken valley like a pall, but there were no -humped-up cattle sleeping beneath the trees. It was time for them to be -out and feeding in the sun, but the meadows and hillsides were bare. -He was astounded and could not believe his eyes—the pasture was empty -as the desert. Cursing and panting Pecos plunged madly down the steep -trail until he came to the first water, and there he threw down his -gun and swore. Fresh and clean on the margin of the water-hole was the -track of a shod horse, pointing toward the river! It was enough—Pecos -knew that he was cleaned! Indians and mountain renegades do not ride -shod horses, and if Boone Morgan had his cows across the river already -he could never get them back. Another thought came to Pecos, and he -scrambled wildly up the trail to defend his remaining herd, but there -was no one there to fight him—his upper cattle were safe. Yet how long -would it take to get them, in order to finish him up? All Boone Morgan -and Upton had to do was to wait until he went down to the store for -provisions and then they could rake his upper range the same way. And -would they do it? Well, say! Pecos pondered on the matter for a day or -two, keeping mostly behind the shelter of some rock, and the sinister -import of Morgan's remarks on what a government can do for a certain -class of people bore in upon him heavily. Undoubtedly he was included -in that class of undesirables and if he was any reader of character -Boone Morgan was just the kind of a man to make him a lot of trouble. -Upton was against him because he had stolen his U cows, and Crit was -against him worse because he had given him the cross—every cowman on -the range would be against him because he was a rustler. Pecos watched -the rim-rock vindictively after that, hoping to get a chance to pot -some meddlesome cowman, but no inquisitive head was poked over. At -last he stole up the ravine one morning and took to the high ground at -dawn. There, sure enough, were the boot-marks among the rocks and he -noticed with a vague uneasiness that some one had been watching him -for days—watching his wind-hole, too,—probably could have shot him a -hundred times, but now the tracks were old. A hot and unreasonable -resentment rose up in Pecos at the implication. Nobody cared for him -now, even to the extent of watching him! He could crawl into his hole -and die now, and everybody would just laugh. Well, he would show Mr. -Everybody what kind of a sport he was. After which circumlocuted -reasoning Pecos Dalhart, the bad man from Perro Perdito Cañon, being -really lonely as a dog, threw the saddle on his horse and hit the trail -for the Verde. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -STAMPEDED - - -For two weeks after Pecos Dalhart disappeared into the wilderness -Angevine Thorne spent the greater part of his time sitting in the -doorway of the store with his eyes fixed upon the tiny notch where -the Carrizo trail cut down through the mesa's rim. Never, until that -day when he had defied Boone Morgan, had Angy realized the heroic -devotion of his comrade to the cause of the revolution, and his heart -was strong to help him, even at the risk of his job. If Crit would -only have let him have a horse he would have gone to Lost Dog Cañon -long ago, to carry the news of Morgan's raid and his subsequent visit -to Verde Crossing in search of Pecos, but lacking any means of travel -he had to be content to wait and watch the trail. The two weeks passed -drearily and still, as each afternoon wore on, Babe seated himself in -the shade of the brush _ramada_ and speculated upon the fate of Pecos. -But in this he was not alone. Early in the game Isaac Crittenden had -noted the set gaze of his faithless roustabout, and though he still -rode out with his cowboys, he also managed to keep his one eye cocked -on the eastern horizon, for he had interests in those parts. There were -a hundred head of Monkey-wrench cattle still running loose in Lost Dog -Cañon, and that would make good pickings if Pecos went over the road. -As to what particular road the cattle-rustler took, whether to the -pen or parts unknown, or to his home on high, was immaterial to Isaac -Crittenden, providing always that he heard about it first. A bunch of -mavericks without an owner was likely to get snapped up quick in those -parts—John Upton might turn out to be the lucky man, but not if I. C. -knew himself, and he thought he did. - -It is a long day's ride from Lost Dog Cañon—dragging a pack-animal a -man would get in about sundown—and as the days wore on Crittenden made -it a point to ride so that he could cut the Carrizo trail between four -and five. This was a desperate game that he was playing, for Pecos -Dalhart was undoubtedly in an ugly mood; but a little nerve will carry -a man a long way sometimes, and at a pinch Crit could shoot a gun -himself. So it happened that on the day that Pecos rode to the edge -of the bench and sat looking down doubtfully upon the distant Verde -Crossing, he heard a horse pounding in on his right and finally made -out Isaac Crittenden, in wild and unnecessary pursuit of a cow. At a -suitable distance the cowman looked up, let his cow go, and ambled -cautiously over toward his former agent. Holding his hands in sight to -show that his intentions were pacific, he came in closer and at last -motioned to Pecos to come away from the mesa rim. - -"What's the matter with you?" he called, frantically repeating his -signal. "D' you want to let Boone Morgan see you?" - -"Boone Morgan?" repeated Pecos, reining in his horse. "Why—what—" - -"Haven't you heard the news?" demanded Crittenden, hectoringly. "Boone -Morgan took a hundred head of your Monkey-wrench critters down the -Pinal trail, and every dam' one of 'em had been burnt over from a U. He -was up here inquirin' for you a day or two ago." - -Their eyes met and Pecos tried to pass it off in bravado, but Crit -had him at a disadvantage. "The best thing you can do is drift," he -observed, meaningly. - -"Oh, I don't know," said Pecos, "I got a hundred head an' more of cows -over in Lost Dog Cañon yet. What'll you—" - -"They ain't worth a dam'," cut in Crittenden, harshly. - -"No, I know they ain't," assented the cowboy, patiently, "not to me—but -to a man with a big outfit they'd be worth about fifteen hundred -dollars." - -"Well, _I_ don't want 'em," snapped Crit. "I got troubles enough, -already, without hidin' out from Boone Morgan." - -"I'll sell you that brand cheap," supplicated Pecos, but the cowman -only showed his teeth in derision. - -"Wouldn't take 'em as a gift," he said, shortly. - -"Well, go to hell, then!" snarled the rustler, and jerking his horse -around he started toward Verde Crossing. - -"Hey, where you goin'?" called Crittenden, but Pecos did not reply. -"You'll git into trouble," he persisted, following anxiously after him. -"Say, do you want to break into jail?" - -Pecos halted on the rim of the mesa, turned deliberately about and -faced him. - -"No," he said, "do you?" - -"Why, what d' you mean?" demanded the cowman, leaving off his -blustering and coming nearer. - -"Well, if they throw me in I'll tell all I know," replied Pecos. -"That's all. They may soak me for the Monkey-wrenches, but I'll sure -git you on them Wine-glasses, so you better not try any funny business. -What I'm lookin' for now is travellin' expenses—I'm not so stuck on -this country that I couldn't be induced to leave it!" - -"No-o," sneered the cowman, "I don't reckon you are. They ain't a man -between Tonto and the Gila that don't know you for a rustler now. More -'n that, you've defied the officers of the law. No, Mr. Dalhart," he -said, a cold glint coming into his eye, "I won't give you a dam' cent -for your burnt-over cattle and if you take my advice you'll hit the -high places for New Mexico." - -"Well, I won't take it, then," replied Pecos, sullenly. "I'm goin' down -to the Crossing to see Angy and—hey! there's the old boy now, flaggin' -me from the store. Well, good-bye, old Cock Eye, don't worry about me -none, I know my way around!" He favored his former employer with a -flaunting gesture of farewell, leaned over to catch the forward jump -of his horse, and went scampering down the slope and across the level, -yipping playfully at every bound. - -"Well, the blank-blanked fool!" exclaimed Crittenden, slapping his leg -viciously with his quirt at this sudden wrecking of his hopes. "Well, -_dam'_ 'im, for a proper eejit!" He ground his teeth in vexation. "W'y, -the crazy dum-head!" he groaned, as the cloud of dust receded. "Boone -Morgan is shore to come back to the Crossing to-night and catch 'im in -the store! Him and that booze-fightin' Angy—I got to git rid of him—but -what in the world am _I_ goin' to do?" - -From his station on the edge of the mesa he could see the dust to the -east where his cowboys were bringing the day's beef-cut down to the -river and then, far up toward the northern pass, a couple of horsemen -jogging down the Tonto trail. Boone Morgan rode a bay horse, and one -of these was solid color, but the other rode an animal that showed a -patch of white—looked kind of familiar, too. He watched them until -they showed up clear against a clay-bank and then, making sure that the -man on the bay was Morgan, he spurred across the flat to the store. -Whatever happened, he must be sure to get Pecos out of town, for Upton -had been talking Wine-glass to Morgan, and they might summon him for a -witness. - -There was a sound of clanking glasses inside the door as Crittenden -rode up, and the voice of Angevine Thorne, flamboyantly proclaiming a -toast. - -"Then here's to the revolution," he ended up, "and a pleasant journey -to you, Cumrad, wherever you go!" - -They drank, and Crit, sitting outside on his horse, slapped his thigh -and laughed silently. "A pleasant journey," eh? Well, let it go at that -and he would put up the whiskey. - -"You'll be sure and write me often," continued Angy, caressingly, "and -I'll send your _Voice of Reason_ to you, so you can keep up with the -times." - -"All right, Pardner," answered Pecos, "but say, give Marcelina my best -and tell her I'll be back in the spring. Tell 'er something real nice -for me, Angy, will you? Aw, to hell with the cows; it'll be her I come -back for! Gittin' a little too warm for me right now, but I'll be here -when she comes home in the spring. Well, let's take another drink to -the sweetest little girl that ever lived and then I'll be on my way!" -The glasses clicked again and as Angy began another peroration Old Crit -pulled his horse around with an oath and started up the road. So that -was why he had been turned down by Marcelina—Pecos was making love to -her while he was gone! And he'd be back in the springtime, eh? Well, -not if there was room in the county jail and Boone Morgan would take -him down! Hot with his new-made scheme for revenge he spurred his horse -to a gallop and was just swinging around the first turn in the trail -when he fetched up face to face with Morgan and John Upton! - -The world is full of hatred in a thousand forms but there is none more -bitter than that between two men who have seen a former friendship -turn to gall and wormwood. So bitter was the enmity between Upton and -Old Crit that it needed but the time and occasion to break out into -a war. Short, freckle-faced, and red-headed, with a week's growth of -stubby beard and a clear green eye, John Upton was not a man that one -would pick for an enemy, and the single swift move that he made toward -his pistol expressed his general sentiments plainer than any words. As -for Crittenden, his emotions were too badly mixed to lead to action, -but the one-eyed glare which he conferred upon his cow-stealing rival -convinced Boone Morgan at a glance that Old Crit was dangerous. - -"I'd like to have a word with you, Mr. Crittenden," he said, taking -command on the instant, "and since Mr. Upton is interested in this -matter I have asked him to come along down. We won't discuss the -business I have in hand until we get to town, but now that I've got -you two gentlemen together I'd like to ask you to be a little more -careful about your branding. My deputies reported to me that on the -last round-up calves were found bearing a different iron from their -mothers and that mavericks were branded on sight, anywhere on the open -range. The law provides, as you know, that no cow-brute can be branded -anywhere except in a corral or at a round-up and no man has the right -to brand any maverick, _orejano_, leppy, or sleeper except in the -presence and with the consent of witnesses. There have been certain -irregularities up here in the past, as is to be expected in a new -country, but I want to tell you right now that in the future I'm going -to hold you cowmen to the law. I was elected and sworn in to uphold -the peace and dignity of Geronimo County, so if you have any little -feuds or differences to work off, I'll thank you to do it outside my -jurisdiction." - -He paused, and as they rode down the broad trail that merged into -Verde's main street the rival cattle kings exchanged malignant glances -behind his broad and soldierly back. But the sheriff's eyes were to the -fore and at sight of Pecos Dalhart's horse tied to the ground in front -of the store he chuckled to himself. - -"Well, well," he said, reaching down into his inside vest pocket, "I'm -just in time to deliver these papers—or am I mistaken in thinking -that that hoss yonder belongs to Mr. Dalhart?" He glanced across at -Crittenden, who shrugged his shoulders and scowled. "Quite correct, eh? -Well, then, if you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment I'll go in and -see Mr. Dalhart." - -He swung down from his horse with military precision and strode toward -the door, carrying a bulky official envelope in his left hand and a -cigar stump in his right, but just as he crossed the threshold Pecos -Dalhart, startled by his voice, dodged out the back way and ran around -the store. It was a break for liberty with him and he took no thought -of the cost. Three seconds after the sheriff entered the doorway he -came tearing around the corner, heading for his horse. At sight of -Upton and Old Crit he paused and reached for his gun—for one tense -moment they glared at each other—then, flinging himself into the saddle -and hugging his horse's neck, Pecos went spurring away down the trail, -reckless of everything but the one main chance of escape. - -"Hey! Wait a minute!" roared Boone Morgan, dashing out the doorway and -waving his envelope. "Come back heah, you pore dam' fool! Well, don't -that beat the devil?" he inquired, turning to Crit and Upton. "_I_ -didn't have no warrant for him! No! I jest wanted—" he paused and, -noticing the wolfish eagerness with which the cowmen awaited his final -words, he suddenly changed his mind. "Well, what's the difference," -he grumbled, tucking the big envelope back into his pocket, "he'll -keep." He followed the cloud of dust that stood for Pecos Dalhart until -it tore up over the rim of the mesa and disappeared, and a deep and -subterranean rumbling in his chest paid tribute to the joke. There was -something like a thousand dollars in that big official envelope—the -balance of the Monkey-wrench tax sale—and all he wanted of Pecos was -his written receipt for the money. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE CATTLE WAR - - -When Pecos Dalhart, flying from his own evil conscience, went -stampeding out into the wilderness, Isaac Crittenden and John Upton -gazed after him with but a single thought—who would get his cattle? -With Pecos out of the way, Crittenden saw a clear field ahead of him in -the Lost Dog country and he joined Morgan in a throaty laugh, but Upton -viewed his mad flight with disappointment and chagrin. - -"Well, laugh then, you robber," he snarled, turning angrily on Crit, -"I s'pose it tickles you to death to see that dam' cow-thief hit the -pike—he might talk and git you into trouble. Say, Mr. Morgan," he -protested, "ain't you takin' quite a responsibility onto yourself to -let that man git away?—you know what we came down here for," he added, -jerking his head toward Crit. - -"Well, what did you come down here for, you little sawed-off runt?" -demanded Crittenden, belligerently. "Hollerin' around, as usual, I -s'pose!" - -"I come down here to find out about them U cows of mine that you -branded into a Wine-glass," retorted Upton, "but you and the sheriff -here seem to have some kind of an understandin', lettin' the principal -witness git away, and all that, so I reckon I better pull." - -"Not before you eat them words, Mr. Upton," cut in the sheriff, -fiercely. "I don't let no man make insinuations like that about me -without callin' on him to retract—and I ain't never been disappointed -yet!" - -"Well, you jest let that Dalhart feller git away, didn't you?" demanded -Upton, defiantly. - -"I certainly did, sir," replied Boone Morgan, with ponderous dignity, -"and when you git ready to start I shall accord you the same courtesy! -There are no papers out for Mr. Dalhart and unless I detect him in some -breach of law or receive a warrant for his arrest I've got no right to -lay a finger on him. Now you know very well I've got no understanding -with Crittenden, and I'm goin' to ask you to apologize for that -statement you jest made." - -"Well, I didn't mean no offence," protested the cowman, meekly, "and I -apologize, all right—but at the same time it don't seem right to let -that dam' cattle-rustler git away like that." - -"No," responded the sheriff, with heavy sarcasm, "it don't. But bein' -as he's gone you _cowmen_ will have a chance to show what good citizens -_you_ are. I don't know jest what Mr. Dalhart's plans are, but when -it comes around to the spring round-up I want to find every one of -them Monkey-wrench cattle _thar_! He's paid his taxes in full and -he's entitled to the full protection of the law, so long as he keeps -the peace. You hear me talking, now; this brand-burnin' has gone far -enough." - -"But how about them U cows I lost?" put in Upton, pertinently. "Do Crit -and this Pecos Dalhart git to keep all the critters they stole?" - -"Stole, nothin'!" retorted Crittenden hotly. "How about them J I C cows -of yourn?" - -"You make a business of burnin' my brand!" rejoined Upton, shaking -his finger threateningly. "You hire men to rob me and rake my whole -upper range! I'm losin' more now than I did when the Apaches was in -the hills; but I'll git even with you yet, you dam', humped-back old -cow-thief!" - -"Well, I see you gentlemen are goin' to keep on quarrellin'," observed -Boone Morgan, picking up his bridle-rein, "and I might as well go on -about my business. You got no more respect for the law, either one of -you, than a common cattle-rustler, and I'm goin' to quit wrastlin' with -you, right now. But you can cut this out and paste it in your hats—the -first man that steals a cow in Geronimo County, and I catch 'im, is -goin' to git the limit. Angy, gimme a bag of crackers and some of that -jerked beef—I'm tired of hearin' this yawp." - -So genuine was his disgust that Boone Morgan plunged through the cold -river at nightfall and took the long trail for Geronimo, but the memory -of his last words lingered in the minds of the warring cowmen for many -a day, and though Pecos Dalhart was known to be over in New Mexico -somewhere his Monkey-wrench herd remained safe in Lost Dog Cañon. As -for the sheriff, having abandoned all idea of peace, he transacted his -business in the mountains by deputy and sat quiet in Geronimo, waiting -only for the first break to come back and make his word good. It had a -wonderful restraining influence upon Crit and Upton, this prolonged and -ominous absence, but as spring came on and the new crop of calves began -to gambol on the mesas, the old spirit of grab rose up and overleapt -the dull fear of last winter. Once more both Crit and Upton began to -take on nervy cowboys—men who by their boasts or by their silence let -it be known that they were game—and the cow-camp at Verde Crossing -sheltered gun-men from all over the Far West. From the Tonto country -there came rumors that Upton was bringing in bad men from Pleasant -Valley, fresh from the bloody combats where the Grahams and Tewkesburys -met. Bill Todhunter rode in when the round-up was well begun and looked -the outfits over with grave unconcern, dropping out of sight on the -trail and turning up at Geronimo two days later to report that all was -well in Lost Dog Cañon. There were no deputy sheriffs in disguise on -this round-up—both Crittenden and Upton satisfied themselves of that -early in the day—and as the work went on and the lust for spoils grew -with each branded maverick, the war spirit crept in and grew apace. - -Ike Crittenden was the first to renew the feud—he came across an old -ICU cow and branded her to ICU2. One of Upton's range riders picked her -up after the branding and Upton promptly altered the brand on an IC -cow, to break even. Then came the grand _coup_ for which Crittenden -had long been preparing. On the morning after Upton took his revenge, -the whole IC outfit—forty cowboys and every man armed—went galloping -over the Carrizo trail to Lost Dog Cañon. By noon they had gathered -every animal in the valley; at night they camped with the herd at -Carrizo Springs; and the next day every Monkey-wrench cow was safe -in the Verde corrals with her Monkey-wrench burnt to a Spectacle -([Illustration: [++] Cattle brand in the shape of eyeglasses.]) and her -ears chopped down to her head. The ear-marks having been altered once -already there was nothing for it but to make the new marks deeper -and more inclusive—swallow-fork the left and crop the right. The -swallow-fork was deep in the left, to take in an underbit that Pecos -had cut, and Old Funny-face, who had returned home with the herd, lost -the fancy Mexican window and _anzuelo_ in her right ear altogether, -along with all other signs of a former ownership. But even then the -artistic knife-work of José Garcia was not allowed to perish from -the earth. As Funny-face rose up from this last indignity and menaced -the perspiring cowboys with her horns, the little Garcia children, -hanging over the fence, dashed out through the dust and turmoil and -rescued the close-cropped ears. Already, in spite of threats and -admonitions, they had gathered quite a collection of variegated crops -and swallow-forks to serve as play-cows in their toy corral; but when -Marcelina came upon this last bloody evidence of the despite that was -shown her lover she snatched the ears away and hid them in the thatched -roof. Old Funny-face was Pecos's cow—she knew that as well as she knew -the red-spotted, dun-colored ears that had adorned her speckled head. -Pecos had bought Funny-face and her calf from her father for thirty -dollars, to keep around his camp to milk, and now there was nothing to -show for his ownership but the ears. But perhaps Pecos would be glad -even for them, if ever he came back. In a letter to Babe he had said he -was coming back, now that the sheriff was his friend. But Crit—ha-ah, -Ol' Creet—he was stealing all of Pecos's cows, and the sheriff did not -care! She stood by a post of the brush _ramada_ and scowled at him as -he raged about on his horse, cursing and shouting and waving his arms -and hurrying his men along. He was a bad man—ahr, how she hated him—and -now he was such a thief! - -As the quick work of branding was brought to an end and the herd -driven pell-mell down the river and into the heavy willows, the Boss -of Verde Crossing sent half of his cowboys down to guard them and -began to clean up the corral. First he put out the fires and quenched -the hot running-irons and rings; then he removed the branding outfit, -dug a deep hole in the river-bed and set his men to work in details, -gathering up the clipped ears and swallow-forks from the trampled dirt -of the corral. A single ear left lying would be a record of his theft, -and when one of the Garcia _niños_, by an ill-timed dash for more ears, -set Crit upon the trail of their play cows he rushed in and ravished -all their toy corrals, even though Marcelina stood by the _ramada_ and -curled her lip at his haste. - -"You will rob even the cheeldren, Meester Creet!" she remarked, as he -dumped them all into his hat. - -"Mind your own business!" he answered, sharply, and scuttled away like -a crab, bearing his plunder with him. - -"Ah, you ba-ad man!" observed Marcelina, making faces at his bent back. -"I hope Paycos come back and _keel_ you!" - -But Isaac Crittenden was not worrying about any such small fry as -Pecos Dalhart. Boone Morgan and John Upton were the men he had on his -mind and it was about time for Upton to show up. A solitary horseman, -high up on the shoulder of the peaks, had watched their departure from -Carrizo Springs that morning, and if Upton had not known before he -certainly knew very well now that the Monkey-wrench brand was no more. -As for Boone Morgan—well, there was an IC cow in the corral, altered -by John Upton to JIC, and it was just as big a crime to steal one cow -as it was to steal a hundred. One thing was certain, no man from the -IC outfit would call on the sheriff for aid; and if Upton was the -red-headed terror that he claimed to be, the matter would be settled -out of court. - -In this particular incident Mr. Crittenden was more than right. The -matter was already adjudicated by range law, and entirely to the -satisfaction of Upton. For while Crit was hustling his Monkey-wrench -herd over to Verde Crossing, the U outfit—also forty strong—had -hopped over the shoulder of the Peaks, rounded up every Wine-glass -cow that they could gather, and were at that moment busily engaged at -Carrizo Springs in altering them to a Circle-cross ([Illustration: -[++] Brand in the shape of a female gender symbol]). It made a very -pretty brand too; but after studying on it for a while and recalling -his past experience with Crit, Upton decided to play safe and make -it a double cross ([Illustration: Brand in the shape of circle with -a double cross]). No more ICU2's for John Upton—he had been there -once—and Circle Double-cross it went on every animal they marked. The -next morning, with every cow and calf well in hand, the U boys began to -drift the Circle Double-cross herd back over the mountain, and just as -Crittenden was marshalling his fighting men to win back the ravished -stock there was a clatter of hoofs down at the Crossing and Boone -Morgan rode into camp, followed by a posse of deputies. - -"Well, what's the trouble up here, Mr. Crittenden?" he inquired, -glancing with stern displeasure at the armed men who gathered about -their chief. "Is there an Injun uprisin' or have you gone on the -warpath yourse'f?" - -"You jest come down to my corral," spat back Crittenden, "and I'll show -you what's the matter! That low-lived John Upton has been burnin' my -brand!" He led the way at a gallop to where the IC cow that had been -altered to JIC was tied by the horns to a post. "You see that brand?" -he inquired, "well, that was made three days ago by John Upton—you can -see the J is still raw." - -"Umph!" grunted the sheriff, after a careful scrutiny of the brand, -"did anybody see him do it?" - -"No, but he done it, all right!" - -"Would you swear to it? Can you prove it? How do you know somebody else -didn't do it?" - -"No, I can't swear to it—and I can't prove it, neither—but one of my -boys picked that cow up three days ago right in the track of Upton's -outfit, and, knowin' the little whelp as I do, I don't need no lawyer's -testimony to make a case!" - -"Well, I do," replied Boone Morgan, resolutely, "and I don't want this -to go any further until I get the facts! What you goin' to do with all -those two-gun cowboys?" - -"I'm goin' to take over the mesa after John Upton and his dam', -cow-stealin' outfit," cried Crittenden, vehemently, "and if you're -lookin' for legal evidence, he went out of Carrizo Springs this -mornin' drivin' nigh onto two hundred head of Wine-glass cows, as one -of my boys jest told me. Law, nothin'!" shouted the cowman, recklessly. -"I ain't goin' to sit around here, twiddlin' my fingers, and waitin' -for papers and evidence! What I want is action!" - -"Well, you'll get it, all right," replied Morgan, "and dam' quick, too, -if you think you can run it over me! I want you to understand, Mr. -Crittenden, that I am the sheriff of this county, and the first break -you make to go after John Upton I'll send you down to Geronimo with the -nippers on, to answer for resisting an officer! Now as for these men of -yours, I give every one of 'em notice, here and now, that I want this -racket to stop, and the first man that goes up against me will wind up -in the county jail. Bill," he continued, turning to his trusted deputy, -"I leave you in charge of this layout while I go after John Upton. Keep -the whole outfit in camp until I come back, if you have to kill 'em. -I've got enough of this." - -He rode down to the store with his posse, bought a feed of grain for -his horses and provisions for his men, and half an hour afterward went -galloping out the Carrizo trail, his keen eye scanning the distant -ridges and reading the desert signs like a book. It did not take an -Indian trailer to interpret the deep-trampled record of that path. Two -days before a big herd of cows and calves had come into Verde Crossing -from Carrizo, driven by many shod horses and hustled along in a hurry. -As he approached Carrizo fresher tracks cut across the old signs, the -tracks of cows and calves fleeing from scampering ponies, and at the -Springs the fresh signs closed in and trampled out all evidence of the -old drive. It was the last page of the story, written indelibly in -the sandy earth. On the open _parada_ ground the cropped ears had all -been gathered, but the bruised bushes, the blood and signs of struggle -told the plain story of Upton's branding, just as the vacancy of the -landscape and the long trail leading to the north spelled the material -facts of the drama. The Wine-glass cows that used to be about Carrizo -Springs were gone—John Upton had driven them north. But why? The answer -lay beyond Carrizo Springs, where the white trail leads down from Lost -Dog Cañon. There the trampled tracks that led into Verde Crossing stood -out plain again in the dust—three days old and pressed on by hurrying -horses. If the law could accept the record of Nature's outspread book -Crit and Upton were condemned already, the one for stealing Pecos -Dalhart's herd, the other for branding over the Wine-glasses. But the -law demands more than that. It demands evidence that a lawyer can -read; the sworn testimony of honest and unprejudiced witnesses; the -identification of men, brands, and cows, proved beyond a doubt; and -all this in a country where all cows look alike, all witnesses are -partisans, and an honest man is the noblest work of God. Boone Morgan -took up the long trail to the north with fire in his eye, and he rode -furiously, as was his duty, but deep down in his heart he knew he was -after the wrong man, and would not even get him. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -MOUNTAIN LAW - - -As the sheriff's posse spurred their tired horses up the long slope -of the rocky mountain and down into the rough country beyond, the -trail grew fresher with every hour, until the blood from mutilated -ears showed wet in the trampled dirt. But as the herd made its way -into the broken ground the heavy trail split up and divided; at each -fork of the cañon a bunch was cut off from the drag of the herd and -drifted by a hand or two down onto the lower range, and when at last -the trail broke out into the open country again the posse was following -the tracks of only three men and twenty or thirty cows. Then they -picked up a stray, burned clean into a Circle-Double-cross and freshly -ear-marked, and after that the remnant of the band, standing wearily -by a water-hole. Every one of them had been freshly branded with a -hot iron—no hair-brand or attempt at burning through a sack—and half -of their ears were bloody from being torn in the brush; but there were -no cowboys loitering near, waiting to be caught with the goods. The -horse-tracks still led on until at last they scattered out and mounted -the neighboring ridges. But if the trail was lost there were other -signs to lead Morgan on his way. The sun was hanging low now, and their -horses were jaded from hard riding, but at the familiar bellowing of a -cow-herd they pricked up their ears and forged ahead. The valley opened -out suddenly before them and there on their regular _parada_ grounds -was the entire U outfit, holding a big herd and cutting, roping, -and branding by days' works. Innocence and industry were the twin -watchwords in that aggregation—they were too busy even to look up—and -when Boone Morgan saw the game he rode past them without speaking and -tackled the cook for supper. - -"Boys are workin' kinder late to-night, ain't they?" he observed, -filling his plate from the Dutch ovens. - -"Sure are," answered the cook, sententiously. He had caught a glimpse -of a star on a deputy's vest, and his orders were not to talk. - -"Can't even stop to eat, hey?" continued the sheriff, nodding at an -ovenful of cold biscuits that had been wastefully thrown in the dirt. -"Well, that's a pity, too, because you sure do make good bread. But a -sour-dough biscuit ain't never no good unless it's eaten fresh." - -"No," grumbled the cook, taken off his guard, "and ef they's anything I -do despise it is to cook up a good oven of bread and then have it spile -thataway." - -"Well, we're certainly appreciatin' this batch," remarked Morgan, -glancing genially around at his busy men. "The boys bein' away -yesterday kind of threw you out, I reckon." - -"Thet's right," agreed the cook, oblivious of his intent, "I hed a big -kittle of beans spile on me, too." - -"They'll sure be hungry when they do hit camp," said the sheriff, -continuing his lead, "livin' on cold grub that way. Hello," he -exclaimed, looking up as John Upton came hurrying in, "here comes Mr. -Upton now—ganted down to a shadow." - -"Oh, I don't know!" replied Upton, guardedly, "b'lieve I could eat a -little, though." - -"Well, I reckon you ought to," said Morgan, "after goin' two days on -cold grub." - -"Cold grub!" repeated the cowman, glancing at the cook. - -"Why, sure. And that's a long, hard ride over to Carrizo, too." The -sheriff took a big mouthful and waited. - -"What in hell you talkin' about?" demanded the cowman, sullenly. - -"Why, wasn't you over to Carrizo yesterday?" - -"Nope." - -"And never eat no cold grub?" inquired the sheriff, gazing quizzically -toward Joe, the cook. - -"Dam' yore heart, Joe!" burst out Upton, looking daggers at the -startled pot-tender, "have you been blabbin' already?" - -"That'll be all, Mr. Upton," said Boone Morgan, quietly, "I'm up -here lookin' for the owner of this new Circle Double-cross brand. Is -that your iron? It is? Well, I'll have to ask you to go back with me -to-morrow and explain where them cows come from." - -"Well, by the holy—jumpin'—" The cowman paused in his wrath and fixed -his fiery eyes on Boone Morgan. "Did Ike Crittenden put you up to -this?" he demanded, and taking silence for consent he went off into a -frenzy of indignation. "Well, what you chasin' _me_ for?" he yelled, -choking with exasperation. "Old Crit goes over into Lost Dog and runs -off every dam' one of them Monkey-wrench cows, and you come right -through his camp and jump _me_! They wasn't a critter in Lost Dog -that hadn't been burnt over my U, and you know it; but ump-um—Crit's -a friend of mine—never make him any trouble—go over and tackle -Upton—he's a _Tonto_ County man!" - -The sheriff listened to this tirade with a tolerant smile, feeding -himself liberally the while. He had long ago learned that the world's -supply of self-righteousness is not held in monopoly by the truly -good—also that every horse must go to the length of his picket rope -before he will stop and eat. But when the fireworks were over he -remarked by way of conversation, "Crit's got one of your JIC cows down -there in his corral—a red three, bald-faced and kind of spotted on the -shoulders. Looks like it had been branded lately." - -"Yes, an' I've got one of his ICU2's down in my corral," retorted -Upton, "and it sure has been branded lately—you could smell the burnt -hair when I picked it up five days ago. They ain't a man in my outfit -that don't know that old cow for an ICU, too." - -"Um," commented Morgan, "you think he stole it, hey?" - -"I know it!" replied Upton, with decision. "You can see her yoreself, -down in my headquarters corral, and I picked her up in the track of -Crit's round-up." - -"Well, you better swear out a warrant, then, and we'll take the -cow down for evidence. You were hintin' that I'm standin' in with -Crittenden, but jest swear to a complaint and see how quick I'll serve -the papers." - -For a moment the cowman cocked his head and regarded him shrewdly—then -he shook his head. "I've got too much loose stock runnin' on his -range," he said. - -"I'll protect your property," urged the sheriff. "Come on, now—quit -your kickin' and make a complaint." - -"Nope—too dangerous! I can take care of myself in the hills, but if -them Geronimo lawyers ever git holt of me I'm done for. You can take me -down to-morrer, if you want to, but I'd rather stick to my own game." - -"All right," said the sheriff, "we'll see what Crit will do." - -There was a big crowd around the store at Verde Crossing when Boone -Morgan and his posse rode in, and at sight of John Upton by his side -there was a general craning of necks on the part of Crittenden's -cowboys. This was the first time that a sheriff had attempted to stop -the lawless raids and counter-raids of these two cattle kings and the -gun-men looked upon him with disfavor, for even a professional bad -man is jealous of his job. An appeal to the courts would divert their -extra wages into the pockets of the lawyers—it would dock their pay and -double their work, and to a man they were against it. Yet here came -Upton with the sheriff, and Bill Todhunter had already spotted some -Spectacle cows that had drifted back to the corrals. As for Crit, his -nerve was good, for he felt the fighting courage of his men behind him, -and he went out to meet his ancient enemy with a taunting sneer. - -"Well, I'm glad to see one man git what's comin' to him," he observed, -taking note of Upton's guard. - -"Yes," retorted Upton, caustically, "and if I'd jest tell a half of -what I know, you'd be mixin' 'dobes down at the Pen." - -"Uhr!" grunted Crittenden, turning away in scorn; but at the same time -he took his cue from the words. - -"Well, Mr. Crittenden," began Morgan, "here's the man you wanted -so bad. Now if you'll jest step into the store and fill out this -complaint—" - -"Nothin' like that—nothin' like that!" protested the Verde Boss, -holding up his hand. "I never said I wanted him arrested!" - -"No, but you took me down and showed me that JIC cow and said he stole -it, didn't you? And you complained to me that he was in the act of -runnin' off your Wine-glass cows, didn't you? Well, that's the same -thing, when you're talkin' to an officer." - -"Well, it may be all the same, but I don't want 'im arrested. That -ain't the way I do business." - -"Oh, it ain't, hey? Well, what is your way of doin' business?" - -"First principle is never to holler for help," replied Crittenden, -grimly. "I know dam' well that little cuss over there burnt my IC cow -and run off all my Wine-glasses—but I can't prove nothin' before the -law, so you might as well turn 'im loose. Oh, you don't need to laugh, -you little, sawed-off runt!" he yelled, addressing himself to Upton, -"I'm jest keepin' you out of jail so's I can git at you myself! I'll—" - -"Aw, shut up," growled the sheriff, brushing roughly past him. "Come -on, boys, let's get out of this before they holler their heads off." -He swung angrily up on his horse, jerked its head toward the river and -took the crossing in silence, leaving the rival cattle kings to fight -it out together. The time might come when one or the other of them -would "holler for help," but just at that moment the Verde country was -not educated up to the law. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WELCOME HOME - - -After the war of words was over and the tumult and shouting had died -away, the Angel of Peace, which had been flying high of late, fluttered -down and hovered low over Verde Crossing. John Upton rode back up the -Tonto trail still breathing forth hostile threats; Crittenden and his -men buckled on their extra guns and rode blithely out to the adventure; -and the store, from being a general hang-out for noisy and drunken -cowboys, became once more a shrine to Venus and a temple of the Muse, -with Babe the minstrel and Marcelina the devotee. "Billy Veniro" was -the theme—that long, sad tale of the far frontier—sung in tragic tenor -to a breathless audience of one. She was very pretty, the little -Marcelina, now that she had become a woman. The Sisters had taught her -her catechism and something more—the grace and sweetness that come from -religious adoration, and the quiet of the cell. The great world, too, -as personated by Geronimo, had done its share; her hair was done up in -dark masses, her long skirt swept the floor, and with the added dignity -of a train her womanhood was complete. She sat by the door where she -could watch the Tonto trail—for it was by that road that Pecos was to -come—and her melancholy eyes glowed as she listened to the song. - - -BILLY VENIRO - - "Billy Veniro heard them say, in an Arizona town one day, - That a band of Apache Indians were on the trail of death. - He heard them tell of murder done, of the men killed at Rocky Run. - 'There is danger at the cow-ranch!' Veniro cried beneath - his breath. - - "In a ranch forty miles, in a little place that lay - In a green and shady valley, in a mighty wilderness, - Half a dozen homes were there and in one a maiden fair - Helt the heart of Billy Veniro—Billy Veniro's little Bess. - - "So no wonder he grew pale, when he heard the cowboy's tale— - Of the men that he'd seen murdered the day before at Rocky Run. - 'As sure as there is a God above, I will save the girl I love. - By my love for little Bessie, I must see there is something done!' - - "When his brave resolve was made, not a moment more he stayed. - 'Why, my man,' his comrades told him when they heard his - daring plan, - 'You are riding straight to death!' But he answered, 'Hold - your breath, - I may never reach the cow-ranch, but I'll do the best I can.' - - "As he crossed the alkali bed all his thoughts flew on ahead - To the little band at the cow-ranch, thinking not of danger near, - With his quirt's unceasing whirl and the jingle of his spurs - Little brown Chapo bore the cowboy far away from a far frontier. - - "Lower and lower sank the sun, he drew reins at Rocky Run. - 'Here those men met death, my Chapo!' and he stroked his - horse's mane. - 'So shall those we go to warn, ere the breaking of the morn, - If I fail, God help my Bessie!' And he started out again. - - "Sharp and keen the rifle shot woke the echoes of the spot. - 'I am wounded!' cried Veniro, as he swayed from side to side. - 'Where there is life there is always hope, onward slowly - I will lope. - I may never reach the cow-ranch—Bessie dear shall know I tried. - - "'I will save her yet,' he cried, 'Bessie Lee shall know I died - For her sake!' And then he halted in the shadow of a hill. - From a branch a twig he broke, and he dipped his pen of oak - In the warm blood that spurted from the wound above his heart. - - "From his chaps he took, with weak hand, a little book, - Tore a blank leaf from it, saying, 'This shall be my will.' - He arose and wrote: 'Too late! Apache warriors lay in wait. - Good-bye, Bess, God bless you, darling!' And he felt the warm - blood start. - - "And he made his message fast—love's first letter and its last— - To his saddle horn he tied it, while his lips were white with pain. - 'Take this message, if not me, safe to little Bess,' said he. - Then he tied himself to the saddle and gave his horse the rein. - - "Just at dusk a horse of brown, wet with sweat, came panting down - Through the little lane at the cow-ranch and stopped at - Bessie's door. - But the cowboy was asleep and his slumbers were so deep - That little Bess could not awake him, if she were to - try forevermore. - - * * * * * - - "Now you have heard this story told, by the young and by the old, - Way down there at the cow-ranch the night the Apaches came. - Heard them speak of the bloody fight, how the chief fell in - the flight - And of those panic-stricken warriors, when they speak - Veniro's name." - - * * * * * - -"Ay, _los_ Ah-paches!" sighed Marcelina, looking wistfully up the -trail. "No _ai_ Ah-paches in mountains now, Babe?" - -"No, Marcelina," soothed Angy, "all gone now. Soldiers watch 'em—San -Carlos." - -"_Que malo, los Indios!_" shuddered Marcelina. "I am afraid—_quien -sabe?_—who can tell?—I am afraid some bad men shall keel—ah, when say -Paycos, he will come?" - -"'I'll come a-runnin'—watch for my dust'—that's all he wrote when I -told him you was home. Can't you see no dust nor nothin'?" - -"There is leetle smoke, like camp-fire, up the valley—and Creet's -vaqueros come home down Tonto trail. Pretty soon sundown—nobody come." - -Angevine Thorne stepped through the doorway and, shading his bloodshot -eyes with a grimy hand, gazed long at the column of thin smoke against -the northern sky. "Like as not some one is brandin' an _orejano_" he -said, half to himself. "Might even be Pecos, makin' a signal fire. Hey, -look at them bloody cowboys, ridin' in on it! Look at 'em go down that -_arroyo_; will you? Say—I hope—" - -"Hope what?" - -"Well, I hope Pecos don't come across none of them Spectacle cows on -the way in—that's all." - -"Ahh, Paycos weel be mad—he weel—_Mira!_ Look, look!" - -A furious mob of horsemen came whirling down the trail, crowding about -a central object that swayed and fought in their midst; they rushed -it triumphantly into the open, swinging their ropes and shouting, and -as the rout went by Angy saw Pecos, tied to his horse, his arms bound -tight to his sides and a myriad of tangled reatas jerking him about in -his saddle. - -[Illustration: As the rout went by Angy saw Pecos, tied to his horse, -his arms bound tight to his sides] - -"Hang the cow-thief!" howled the cowboys, circling and racing back, and -all the time Pecos strained and tugged to get one hand to his gun. Then -his wild eyes fell on Marcelina and he paused; she held out her hands, -and Angy rushed behind the bar for his gun. - -"Here, what the hell you mean?" he yelled, breaking from the door. -"Quit jerkin' him around like that, or I'll knock you off your horse!" -He ran straight through the crowd, belting every horse he met with the -barrel of his forty-five, until he brought up with his back to Pecos -and his pistol on the mob. "Let go that rope, you—!" he cried, bringing -his six-shooter to a point, and as the nearest cowboy threw loose and -backed away he shifted his gun to another. "Throw off your dally," he -commanded, "and you too, you low-flung Missouri hound! Yes, I mean -you!" he shouted, as Crit still held his turns. "What right have you -got to drag this man about? I'll shoot the flat out of your eye, you -old dastard, if you don't let go that rope!" - -Old Crit let go, but he stood his ground with a jealous eye on his -prize. - -"Don't you tech them ropes," he snarled back, "or I'll do as much for -you. I caught him in the act of stealin' one of my cows and—" - -"You _did_ not!" broke in Pecos, leaning back like a wing-broke hawk to -face his exultant foe, "that calf was mine—and its mother to boot—and -you go and burn it to a pair of Spectacles! Can't a man vent his own -calf when it's been stole on 'im durin' his absence? Turn me loose, -you one-eyed cow-thief, or I'll have yore blood for this!" - -"You don't git loose from me—not till the sheriff comes and takes you -to the jug. Close in here, boys, and we'll tie him to a tree." - -"Not while I'm here!" replied Angy, stepping valiantly to the front. -"They don't a man lay a finger on 'im, except over my dead body. You'll -have to kill me—or I'll pot Old Crit on you, in spite of hell!" He -threw down on his boss with the big forty-five and at a sign from Crit -the cowboys fell back and waited. - -"Now, lookee here, Angy," began Crittenden, peering uneasily past the -gun, "I want you to keep yore hand outer this. Accordin' to law, any -citizen has a right to arrest a man caught in the act of stealin' and I -claim that feller for my prisoner." - -"Well, you don't git 'im," said Angy, shortly. "What's the row, Pecos?" - -Pecos Dalhart, still leaning back like a crippled hawk that offers beak -and claws to the foe, shifted his hateful eyes from Crittenden and -fixed them on his friend. - -"I was ridin' down the _arroyo_," he said, "a while ago, when I came -across my old milk cow that I bought of Joe Garcia." He paused and -gulped with rage. "One ear was cropped to a grub," he cried, "and the -other swallow-forked to 'er head—and her brand was fresh burnt to -a pair of hobbles! The calf carried the same brand and while I was -barring them Spectacles or Hobbles, or whatever you call 'em, and -putting a proper Monkey-wrench in their place, this pack of varmints -jumped in and roped me before I could draw a gun, otherwise they would -be some dead." - -"Nothin' of the kind!" shouted back Crittenden. "You never bought a cow -in your life, and you know it! I caught you in the act of stealin' my -Spectacle calf and I've got witnesses to prove it—ain't that so, boys?" - -"Sure!" chimed the IC cowboys, edging in behind their boss. - -"And I demand that man for my prisoner!" he concluded, though -pacifically, for Angy still kept his bead. - -The negotiations for the custody of Pecos were becoming heated when -there was a familiar clatter at the ford and Bill Todhunter rode -into camp. His appearance was not such an accident as on the surface -appeared, since he had been scouting around the purlieus of Verde -Crossing for some days in the hope of catching Old Crit in some overt -act, but he put a good face on it and took charge of the prisoner at -once. Prisoners were the fruits of his profession, like game to a -hunter or mavericks to a cowman, and he pulled the gun out of Pecos's -holster and threw loose the tangled ropes with the calm joy of a man -who has made a killing. - -"Caught 'im in the act, did ye?" he said, turning to Crittenden. -"Uh-huh—got any witnesses? All right—where's the calf? Well, send a -man up for it, and bring the cow down, too. We'll have a preliminary -examination before the J. P. to-morrow and I want that cow and calf -for evidence. Now come on, Mr. Dalhart, and remember that anything you -say is liable to be used against ye." - -Denying and protesting, Pecos did as he was bid; and, still denying -his guilt, he went before the magistrate in Geronimo. Crittenden was -there with his cowboys; the calf was there with his barred brand and -bloody ears—and as the examination progressed Pecos saw the meshes of a -mighty net closing relentlessly in upon him. In vain he protested that -the calf was his—Isaac Crittenden, the cowman, swore that the animal -belonged to him and his cowboys swore to it after him. In vain he -called upon José Garcia to give witness to the sale—Joe was in debt to -the Boss several hundred dollars and Old Funny-face, the cow, was being -hazed across the range by a puncher who had his orders. His written -bill of sale was lost, the mother with her brands and vents was gone, -and a score of witnesses against him swore to the damning fact that he -had been taken red-handed. After hearing all the evidence the Justice -of the Peace consulted his notes, frowned, and held the defendant -for the action of the grand jury. The witnesses filed out, the court -adjourned, and a representative assemblage of cowmen congratulated -themselves, as law-abiding citizens of Geronimo County, that there was -one less rustler in the hills. At last, after holding up her empty -scales for years, the star-eyed Goddess of Justice was vindicated; the -mills of the law had a proper prisoner to work upon now and though they -were likely to grind a little slow—the grand jury had just adjourned -and would not be convened again until fall—they were none the less -likely to be sure. Fortunately for the cause of good government the -iron hand of the law had closed down upon a man who had neither money, -friends, nor influence, and everybody agreed that he should be made an -awful example. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE KANGAROO COURT - - -There are some natures so stern and rugged that they lean against a -storm like sturdy, wind-nourished pines, throwing back their arms, -shaking their rough heads, and making strength from the elemental -strife. Of such an enduring breed was Pecos Dalhart and as he stood -before the judge, square-jawed, eagle-eyed, with his powerful shoulders -thrown back, he cursed the law that held him more than the men who -had sworn him into jail. But behind that law stood every man of the -commonwealth, and who could fight them all, lone-handed? Lowering his -head he submitted, as in ancient days the conquered barbarians bowed to -the Roman yoke, but there was rebellion in his heart and he resolved -when the occasion offered to make his dream of the revolution a waking -reality. The deputy who led him over to jail seemed to sense his -prisoner's mood and left him strictly alone, showing the way in silence -until they entered the sheriff's office. - -The reception room to the suite of burglar-proof apartments familiarly -known as the Hotel de Morgan was a spacious place, luxuriously -furnished with lounging chairs and cuspidors and occupied at the moment -by Boone Morgan, a visiting deputy, three old-timers, and a newspaper -reporter. The walls were decorated with a galaxy of hard-looking -pictures labelled "Escaped" and "Reward," many of which had written -across their face "Caught," and some "Killed"; there was a large desk -in the corner, a clutter of daily papers on the floor, and the odor -of good cigars. Upon the arrival of Pecos Dalhart the sheriff was -engaged in telling a story, which he finished. Then he turned in his -swivel-chair, sorted out a pen and opened a big book on the desk. - -"Mr. Dalhart, I believe," he said, smiling a little grimly. - -Pecos grunted, and the deputy taking the cue, began a systematic search -of his pockets. - -"Grand larceny—held for the grand jury," he supplemented, and the -sheriff wrote it down in the book thoughtfully. - -"Sorry I can't give you the bridal chamber, Mr. Dalhart," he continued, -"but it's occupied by a check-raiser; and I wouldn't think of puttin' -a cowman in the jag-cell with all them sheep-herders—so I'll have to -give you Number Six, on the first floor front. Pretty close quarters -there now, but you'll have all the more company on that account, and -I'll guarantee the boys will make you welcome." He paused and winked -at the reporter, who sharpened a pencil and laughed. Boone Morgan's -Kangaroo Court was a local institution which gave him a great deal of -josh copy in the course of a year and he lit a cigar and waited to -observe Pecos Dalhart's reception. The kangaroo _alcalde_ or judge was -a horse-thief, the sheriff was a noted strong-arm man from the East, -the district attorney was an ex-lawyer taking a graduate course in -penology, and altogether they made a very taking _dramatis personæ_ for -little knockdown skits on court-house life. - -"Mr. Pecos Dalhart, cowman and brand-expert extraordinary, is down from -the Verde for a few days and is stopping at the Hotel de Morgan pending -the action of the grand jury in regard to one spotted calf alleged to -have been feloniously and unlawfully taken from Isaac Crittenden, the -cattle king. In the absence of the regular reception committee, Michael -Slattery, the kangaroo sheriff, conducted Mr. Dalhart before his honor -the alcalde who welcomed him in a neat speech and conferred upon him -the freedom of the city. After a delightful half-hour of rough-house -the entire company sat down to a choice collation of fruit provided by -the generosity of the guest of honor." - -Something like that would go very well and be good for the drinks in -half the saloons in town. Only, of course, he must not forget to put in -a little puff about the sheriff—"Sheriff Morgan is very proud of the -excellent order maintained in the county jail," or something equally -acceptable. - -The deputy continued his search of Pecos Dalhart's person, piling -money, letters, jack-knife, and trinkets upon the desk and feeling -carefully along his coat lining and the bulging legs of his boots—but -Pecos said never a word. It was a big roll of bills that he had brought -back from New Mexico—five months' pay and not a dollar spent. Some -fellows would have the nerve to get married on that much money. There -was a genuine eighteen-carat, solitaire-diamond engagement-ring among -his plunder, too, but it was no good to him now. The sheriff examined -it curiously while he was counting the money and sealing the whole -treasure in a strong envelope. - -"I'm _dam'_ sorry I can't give you that bridal chamber," he observed, -flashing the diamond and glancing quizzically at the reporter, and -Pecos felt the hot blood leap throbbing to his brain. - -"You go to hell, will you?" he growled, and a dangerous light came into -his eyes as he rolled them on the laughing crowd. - -"Here, here!" chided the deputy, grabbing him roughly by the arm, and -with the gang following closely upon his heels he led the way to the -cells. A rank smell, like the cagey reek of a menagerie, smote their -nostrils as they passed through the first barred door and at sight -of another prisoner the men inside the tanks let out a roar of joy -and crowded up to the bars. It was the flush time of year, when the -district court was in session, and the authors of six months' crime and -disorder were confined within that narrow space awaiting the pleasure -of the judge. Some there were with the healthy tan of the sun still -upon their cheeks, and the swarthy sons of Mexico showed no tendency -to prison pallor, but most of the faces were white and tense, with -obscenely staring eyes and twitching lips, and all of them were weary -unto death. Like wild beasts that see a victim led to their gate they -stormed and chattered against the bars, shouting strange words that -Pecos could not understand until, at an order from the deputy, they -scuttled back to their cells. - -The Geronimo County jail was a massive structure of brick, pierced -by high windows set with iron gratings. A narrow corridor led around -the sides, separating the great double-decked steel tanks from the -outer wall, and within this triumph of the iron-master's craft the -victims of the law's delay swarmed about like chipmunks in a cage. -Down the middle of the steel enclosure there extended a long corridor -with washrooms at the end and on either side were rows of cells, with -narrow, inter-connected gates which could be opened and closed from -without. At the word of command each prisoner slipped deftly through -his door; the deputy unlocked an iron box, heaved away upon a lever, -and with a resounding clang all the gratings on one side came to and -were fastened by the interlocking rods. He opened a box on the opposite -side of the entrance and clanged those doors in place, thus locking up -the last of his dangerous charges and leaving the corridor empty. Then, -producing another key, he unlocked the great sliding gate, pulled its -heavy panels ajar, and shoved Pecos roughly through the aperture. Once -more the gates clashed behind him, the interlocking cell doors flew -open, and with a whoop the uncaged prisoners stepped forth and viewed -their victim. - -There is no pretence about a kangaroo court. By luck and good conduct -a citizen of the outer world may entirely escape the punitive hand of -the law, but every man who entered the Geronimo County jail was _ipso -facto_ a delinquent. More than that, he was foredoomed to conviction, -for there is no law so merciless as that of the law's offenders. The -rulings of the kangaroo alcalde are influenced by neither pleadings -nor precedents, and his tyranny is mitigated only by the murmurings -of his constituents and the physical limitations of his strong right -hand. Unless by the heinousness of his former acts he has placed -himself in the aristocracy of crime, he must be prepared to defend his -high position against all comers; and as the insignia of his office he -carries a strap, with the heavy end of which he administers summary -punishment and puts down mutinies and revolts. Pete Monat was the -doughty alcalde in the Geronimo Bastile, and he ruled with an iron -hand. For sheriff he had Michael Slattery, a mere yegg, to do the dirty -work and hale prisoners before the court. The district attorney was -John Doe, a fierce argufier, who if his nerve had been equal to his -ambition would long since have usurped the alcalde's place. There were -likewise jail-lawyers galore, petty grafters who pitted their wits -against the prosecuting attorney in a brave attempt to earn a fee, or -at least to establish a factitious claim against the defendant. Out -they surged, sheriff, lawyers, and alcalde, and bore down on Pecos in a -body, the sheriff to arrest him, the lawyers to get his case, and the -alcalde to tip his chair against the grating, where the reporter could -see all the fun,—and try the case in style. - -"Fuzzy!" thundered the yegg sheriff, laying a heavy hand upon Pecos's -shoulder, "I arrest youse in the name of the law!" - -"The hell you say!" exclaimed Pecos, backing off; and in an instant -the hardened jail-birds knew that they had a "gay-cat." Only Rubes and -gay-cats resisted arrest in jail—the old-timers stepped up promptly, -before the sheriff could "give them the roust" from behind. - -"Yes, an' fer breakin' into jail!" hollered Slattery. "Come on now and -don't make me any trouble or I'll cop youse in the mush!" - -"Arraign the prisoner," shouted the alcalde pompously, "bring 'im up -hyar, an' ef he's half as bad as he looks he'll git the holy limit. -Wake up thar, you, an' he'p the sheriff, or I'll set you to scrubbin' -floors." - -They came in a struggling mass, dominated by the tall form of the -sheriff, and before Pecos was aware of his destiny he was hustled -before the judge. - -"What is the charge against this mug?" inquired Pete Monat, slapping -his strap across his knee for silence. - -"Breakin' inter jail, Yer Honor!" responded the sheriff, bowing and -touching his forelock. - -"Prisoner at the bar," declaimed the alcalde, "you are charged with -wilfully, feloniously, an' unlawfully breakin' inter this hyar jail—do -you plead 'Guilty' or 'Not guilty'?" - -"I don't plead," said Pecos, with suspicious quiet. - -"'Don't plead' is the same as 'Not guilty,'" announced the judge, "and -bein' as the district attorney is such a long-winded yap I'll jest pull -off this examination myse'f. How come you're hyar, then, you low-browed -reperbate, ef you didn't break inter jail? Answer me thet, now, an' be -dam' careful to say 'Yer Honor' or I'll soak you for contempt of court!" - -"Say," said Pecos, speaking through the gratings to Boone Morgan, "do -I have to stand for this? I do? Well, to hell with such a layout! -Here, keep your hands off o' me now, or somebody'll git badly hurt!" -He placed his back against the grating and menaced the strong-armed -sheriff with a tense fist, turning a scornful eye upon the clamoring -judge. - -"_Oyez! Oyez!_ Silence in the court!" bellowed Pete Monat, leaping up -on his chair. "The prisoner is found guilty and sentenced to pay a fine -of one dollar, or pack out the slops for a week! Mr. Sheriff, bring 'im -up, an' ef he resists we'll give 'im thirty slaps with this hyar!" He -held up his black strap threateningly, but Pecos only skinned his teeth -like a wolf that is caught in a trap, and stood at bay. - -"I'd like to see the bunch of hobos that can man-handle _me_!" he -snarled, making a pass at the sheriff. "Hey, bring me a dollar!" he -commanded, speaking over his shoulder, and as the deputy went back to -the office to get one from his envelope the Roman mob fell back and -ceased its clamoring. The dollar was what they wanted. There was always -a Mex to clean up, but the dollar went for a feed—fruit, candy, good -things to eat—and not every man who entered could pay his fine. At the -same time they stood off a little from the prisoner at the bar, for he -had a bad look in his eye. The kangaroo sheriff, standing discreetly -aloof, noticed it; the alcalde also; and in the premonitory hush that -ensued even Boone Morgan began to read the signs of trouble. Next to -his dream of breaking up the cattle-stealing business in the mountains, -the Geronimo sheriff cherished the fond hope of building up a kangaroo -court that would take the entire problem of jail discipline off his -hands. It was an old idea, the kangaroo court, dimly reminiscent of -frontier cow-camps but smelling more of hoboism, yet good for law and -order if the right men were in power. Pete Monat was a terror to the -evil-doer, especially if he was a Mex or darker, and Boone Morgan stood -generously behind him, even when his decisions were a little rank. -Right now the situation looked ominous and as Pecos continued to spit -forth his venom, hissing and swelling like a snake at every approach of -the pack, he made bold to interfere in the puppet play. - -"Here," he said, passing a dollar through the bars, "I'll advance you -the money—these fellows won't hurt you none." - -"Keep your dirty dollar!" snapped Pecos, striking it away, "I got money -of my own!" - -"Well, you don't need to git mad about it—I jest wanted to help you." - -"Yes, you help me! You throw me into jail for somethin' I never done -and then bring this bunch of town boys in to see me kangarooed. That -big stiff hain't got no right to fine me a dollar, an' you know it, -but I'll give him the money all right—you jest wait!" He grinned -sardonically at Michael Slattery, straightened his back and waited. He -had all the time there was—the grand jury did not meet till Fall, and -that was six months yet. This was the law they talked about—this was -justice—to hold a man six months before he came to trial! Shut him up -in that dark, stinking hole and keep him until he was broken! Sure—and -let a bunch of yeggs spread-eagle him over a chair and beat him with a -strap! For a year Pecos had been at war with society and never struck a -blow for the revolution. But it was not too late. In turning him over -to a kangaroo court Boone Morgan had added the last indignity—it was -war now, and war to the knife. - -The deputy returned leisurely, and shoved a dollar bill through the -bars. - -"Much obliged," said Pecos, and he spoke so quietly that even the -kangaroo sheriff was deceived. "Here's your dollar," he said, turning -to hold out the money, "come and git it." There was a sinister note -in that last phrase, but Slattery did not catch it. He was a tall, -hulking man, heavy-handed and used to his own way; the cattle-rustler -was short and broad, like a stocky, hard-rock miner, and he stood with -his back to the bars as if he were afraid. "Come and git it," he said, -very quietly, but as Mike Slattery reached out his hand for the money -the cowboy grinned and jerked it back. Slattery grabbed, and like a -flash Pecos put over a blow that was freighted with sudden death. It -landed behind the yegg sheriff's massive jaw, threw him sideways and -whirled him over; then the thud of the blow was followed by a thump -and like a boneless carcass he piled up on the floor. To a man a few -removes farther from the ape the thump on the concrete floor would -have resulted in a cracked skull, but fortunately for Slattery hard -heads and evil dispositions generally go together, and he was safe from -anything short of an axe. It was the blow under the ear that had jarred -his brains—the bump against the concrete only finished the job up -and saved him from something worse. Without looking to see where his -victim fell Pecos Dalhart leapt vengefully into the swarming crowd of -prisoners, knocking them right and left like ten-pins and shouting in a -hoarse voice: - -"Come an'—_huh_—git it! Come—_huh_—and _git_ it!" And at every grunt he -sent home a blow that laid his man on the floor. - -"Back to your cells!" roared Boone Morgan, rattling the grating like a -lion caged away from a deadly battle. "Git back there and let me have -a chance!" But his voice was drowned in the deep-voiced challenge of -Pecos, the shrieks of trampled Mexicans, the curses and sound of blows. -Pandemonium broke loose and in the general uproar all semblance of -order was lost. On the outside of the bars a pair of shouting deputies -menaced the flying demon of discord with their pistols, calling on him -to stop; Boone Morgan tried to clear the corridor so that he could open -the door; but they might as well have thundered against the wind, for -Pecos Dalhart had gone hog wild and panic lay in his wake. - -"Yeee-pah!" he screamed, as the way cleared up before him. "Hunt your -holes, you prairie dogs, or I'll shore deal you misery! Out of my road, -you dastards—I'm lookin' for that alcalde!" He fought his way down the -corridor, leaving his mark on every man who opposed him, and Pete Monat -came half way to meet him. Pete had been a fighter himself when he -first broke into the Geronimo jail and the confinement had not thinned -his sporting blood. He held the alcalde's strap behind him, doubled -to give it weight, and at the very moment that Pecos came lunging in -he laid it across his cheek with a resounding whack. The angry blood -stood out along the scar and before Pecos could dodge back he received -another welt that all but laid him low. - -"Hit 'im again! Smash 'im! Fly at 'im, Pete!" yelled the crowd without, -and at the appearance of a leader the beaten gang of hobos came out of -their holes like bloodhounds. Pecos heard the scuffle of feet behind -him and turned to meet them. The fury in his eye was terrible, but he -was panting, and he staggered as he dodged a blow. For a single moment -he appraised the fighting odds against him—then with an irresistible -rush he battered his way past the alcalde and grabbed the back of -his chair. In the sudden turmoil and confusion that humble throne of -justice had been overlooked. It stood against the grating beyond which -Boone Morgan and his deputies cheered on the kangaroos, and as Pecos -whirled it in the air their shouting ceased. - -There was a crash, a dull thump, and Pete Monat pitched forward with -his throne hung round his neck. The strap which had left its cruel mark -on Pecos fell to the floor before him, and Pecos, dropping the broken -back of the chair, stooped and picked it up. The alcalde lay silent now -beside the inert body of his sheriff and a great hush fell upon the -prison as he stood over them, glaring like a lion at bay. He held up a -bruised and gory fist and opened it tauntingly. - -"Here's your dollar," he said, waving the bloody bill above his head, -"come and git it, you sons of goats! You don't want it, hey? Well, -git back into your cells, then—in with you, or I'll lash you to a -frazzle!" They went, and as the interlocking doors clanged behind them -Pecos turned to Boone Morgan and laughed. "That's what I think of your -Kangaroo Court," he said, "and your own dam' rotten laws. Here's to the -revolution!" - -He flung his blood-red arms above his head and laughed again, bitterly; -and after they had carried out the injured he paced up and down the -corridor all night, cursing and raving against the law, while the -battered inmates gazed out through their bars or nodded in troubled -sleep. It was the revolution—no laws, no order, no government, no -nothing! The base hirelings of the law had thrown him into jail—all -right, he would put their jail on the bum. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE REVOLUTION IN FACT - - -Outside of the kangarooing of Rubes, the coming and going of prisoners, -and such exceptional entertainment as that put up by Pecos Dalhart -upon his initiation into the brotherhood, there were only two events a -day in the Geronimo jail—breakfast and dinner. Breakfast, as with the -French, was served late, and dinner at the hour of four. On account -of the caterer being otherwise engaged in the early morning the -_café-au-lait_ in bed was dispensed with and _déjeuner_ served promptly -at nine. It was a hard-looking aggregation of citizens that crept out -of their cells at the clanging of the interlocking gates and there was -not a man among them who dared look Pecos in the eye as they slunk -down the corridor to wash. Battered in body and cowed in spirit they -glanced up at him deprecatingly as he stood with the strap in his hand, -and there was no mercy written in the cattle-rustler's scowling visage. -These were the men who would have put their heels in his face if he -had gone down before their rush—they were cowards and ran in packs, -like wolves. They were grafters, too; the slinking, servile slaves of -jail alcaldes, yegg sheriffs, and Boone Morgan's swaggering deputies. -More than that, they would mob him if he gave them half a chance. So he -stood silent, watching them, man after man, and there was not one who -could look him in the face. - -It was Bill Todhunter who opened the gates that morning—the same -keen-eyed, silent deputy who had fetched Pecos down from the -mountains—and as his former prisoner, now transformed into the stern -master of Geronimo jail, came near, he looked him over gravely. - -"Feelin' any better?" he inquired. - -"Nope," scowled Pecos, and there the matter dropped. After the affair -of the night before he had expected to be put in irons, at least, or -thrown into the dungeon, but nobody seemed to be worrying about him, -and the prison routine went on as usual. The drunks in the jag-cell -woke up and began to wrangle; the long-termers in the deck above -scuffled sullenly around over the resounding boiler plate; and from -the outer office they could hear the cheerful voices of old-timers -and politicians discussing affairs of state. A long-term trusty came -clattering down the iron stairs and passed out through the two barred -doors to work up an appetite for breakfast by mowing the court-house -lawn. As for Pecos, he was used to having his breakfast early and his -Trojan exertions of the night before had left him gaunted, though he -carried off his stoic part bravely. Nevertheless he showed a more than -human interest in the steel front gate, and when at last, just as the -clock tolled nine, it swung open, admitting the Chinese _restaurateur_ -who contracted for their meals, there was a general chorus of -approval. Hung Wo was the name of this caterer to the incarcerated, -and he looked it; but though his face was not designed for a laughing -picture his shoulders were freighted with two enormous cans which -more than made up for that. Without a word to any one he lowered the -cans to the floor, jerked off the covers, and began to dish up on the -prison plates. To every man he gave exactly the same—a big spoonful of -beans, a potato, a hunk of meat, half a loaf of bread, and a piece of -pie—served with the rapidity of an automaton. - -Without waiting for orders the prisoners retreated noisily into their -cells and waited, the more fastidious shoving sheets of newspaper -through the small openings at the bottom of their doors to keep their -plates off the floor. But here again there was trouble. The incessant -hammering of pint coffee cups emphasized the starved impatience of -the inmates; the food grew cold on the plates; only one thing lay in -the way of the belated breakfast—Pecos refused to go into a cell. -Before the fall of the kangaroo court it had been the privilege and -prerogative of Mike Slattery to remain in the corridor and assist -in the distribution of the food, but Mike was in the bridal chamber -now with his jowls swathed in cotton, sucking a little nourishment -through a tube. Pete Monat was there also, his head bandaged to the -limit of the physician's art, and mourning the fate which had left him -such a hard-looking mug on the eve of a jury trial. The verdict would -be guilty, that was a cinch. But at least Pete was able to eat his -breakfast, whereas there were about forty avid kangaroos in the tanks -who were raising their combined voices in one agonizing appeal for -food. It was a desperate situation, but Pecos, as usual, was obdurate. - -"Let the Chink come in—I won't hurt 'im!" he said; but Bill Todhunter -shook his head. - -"The Chink won't come," he said. - -"Whassa malla _Mike_?" inquired Hung Wo nervously. "He go Yuma?" - -"No, Charley," returned Todhunter, "last night he have one hell of a -big fight—this man break his jaw." - -"Whassa malla _Pete_?" - -"This man break his head with chair." - -"Ooo!" breathed Hung Wo, peering through the bars, "me no go in." - -"Well, now, you see what you git for your cussedness," observed the -deputy coldly. "The Chink won't come in and the chances are you'll -starve to death; that is, providin' them other fellers don't beat you -to death first, for makin' 'em lose their breakfast. Feelin' pretty -cagey, ain't they?" - -They were, and Pecos realized that if he didn't square himself with -Hung Wo right away and get him to feed the animals, he would have a -bread riot on his hands later—and besides, he was hungry himself. So he -spoke quickly and to the point. - -"What's the matter, Charley?" he expostulated, "you 'fraid of me?" - -"Me no likee!" said the Chinaman impersonally. - -"No, of course not; but here—lemme tell you! You savvy Pete Monat—all -same alcalde, eh? You savvy Mike—all same boss, hey? Well, last night -me lick Pete and Mike. You see this strap? All right; _me_ boss now—you -give me big pie every day, you come in!" - -"Me no got big pie to-day," protested Hung Wo anxiously. - -"Oh, that's all right—me takum other feller's pie, this time—you come -in!" - -"Allite!" agreed the simple-minded Oriental, and when the iron doors -rolled apart he entered without a quiver. Back where he came from a -bargain is a bargain and it is a poor boss indeed who does not demand -his rake-off. The day was won and, throwing back his head imperiously, -Pecos stalked down the line of cells until he came to the one where the -inmates were making the most noise. - -"Here!" he said, and when they looked up he remarked: "You fellers are -too gay to suit me—I'll jest dock you your pieces of pie!" And when the -Chinaman arrived Pecos carefully lifted the pie from each plate and -piled all up on his own. "This'll teach you to keep your mouths shut!" -he observed, and retiring to the iron gates he squatted down on his -heels and ate greedily. - -"Well, the son-of-a-gun," murmured Bill Todhunter, as he took notice -of this final triumph, and the men in the cells became as quiet as a -cage of whip-broke beasts when the lion tamer stands in their midst. -As Pecos Dalhart drank his second cup of coffee and finished up the -last slab of pie a realizing sense of his mastery came over him and he -smiled grimly at the watchful faces that peered out through the cell -gratings, blinking and mowing like monkeys in a zoo. They were beaten, -that was plain, but somehow as he looked them over he was conscious of -a primordial cunning written on every savage visage—they bowed before -him; but like the leopards before their tamer, they crouched, too. That -was it—they crouched and bided their time, and when the time came they -would hurl themselves at his throat. But what was it for which they -were waiting? All the morning he pondered on it as he paced to and fro -or sat with his back to the bars, watching. Then, as the day warmed up -and his head sank momentarily against his breast he woke with a start -to behold a prison-bleached hand reaching, reaching for his strap. -Instantly he rose up from his place and dealt out a just retribution, -laying on his strap with the accuracy of a horse-wrangler, but even -with the howling of his victim in his ears he was afraid, for he read -the hidden meaning of that act. With the nerveless patience of the -beast they were waiting for him to go to sleep! - -Once before, on the open range, Pecos Dalhart had arrayed himself -against society, and lost, even as he was losing now. Sooner or later, -by day or by night, these skulking hyenas of the jail-pack would catch -him asleep, and he shuddered to think how they might mangle him. He -saw it clearly now, the fate of the man who stands alone, without a -friend to watch over him or a government to protect his life. Not in -two hurly-burly days and nights had he closed his bloodshot eyes, -and as the heaviness of sleep crept upon him he paced up and down -the corridor, wrestling with the spectre that was stealing away his -wits and hoping against hope that Boone Morgan would come to his aid, -for Boone had seen his finish from the first. In sodden abandonment -to his destiny he looked one of the cells over to see if it could be -barricaded, but when one door was open they were all open and there -was no protection against stealth or assault. He had not even the -protection of the cave-dweller who, when sleep overcame him, could -retire and roll a great stone against his door. Yet as the possession -of sleep took hold upon him he routed out the inmates of the cell -nearest to the gate, climbed into the upper bunk and lay there, rigid, -fighting to keep awake. - -It was quiet now and the shuffling of the long-termers above him came -fainter and fainter; some drunk out in the jag-cell woke up from his -long slumber and began to sing mournfully; and Pecos, struggling -against the deadly anæsthetic of his weariness, listened intently to -every word. - - "My friends and relations has caused a separation," - -chanted the dirge-like voice of the singer, - - "Concerning the part of some favorite one. - Besides their vexation and great trubbelation - They will some time be sorry for what they have done." - -The voice sounded familiar to Pecos—or was it the music?—well, never -mind, he would hear it to the end. - - "My fortune is small, I will truly confess it, - But what I have got it is all of my own, - I might have lived long in this world and enjoyed it - If my cruel friends could have left me alone. - - "Farewell to this country, I now must leave it, - And seek my way to some far distant land. - My horse and my saddle is a source of all pleasure - And when I meet friend I'll join heart and hand. - - "Farewell to the girl that I no more shall see, - This world is wide and I'll spend it in pleasures, - And I don't care for no girl that don't care for me, - I'll drink and be jolly and not care for no downfall. - - "I'll drownd my troubles in a bottle of wine; - I'll drownd them away in a full-flowing bumper - And ride through the wild to pass away time. - And when Death calls for me I'll follow him home. - - "No wife, no children will be left to suffer, - Not even a sweetheart will be left to mourn. - I'll be honest and fair in all my transactions, - Whatever I do, I intend to be true. - - "Here is health and good wishes to all you fair ladies— - It is hard, boys, to find one that will always be true." - -A hush fell upon the jail as the singer wailed forth his sad lament, -and when the song was ended a murmur ran along the hall. Pecos -listened, half in a doze, to the muttered comments; then with a jerk he -sat up and stared. The man in the next cell had said, - -"That's old Babe, singin' his jag-song. He'll be in here pretty soon." - -Babe! And he would be in there pretty soon! At that magic word a new -life swept through Pecos Dalhart's veins; his drowsiness left him, and -rousing up from his bunk he struggled forth and washed his face at the -tap. Time and again he slapped the cool water upon his neck and hair; -he drank a last draught of its freshness and paced the length of the -corridor, his head bowed as if in thought—but listening above all other -noises for the sound of Angy's voice. Bill Todhunter came and glanced -at him impersonally, as he might gaze at a bronc that was about to be -broke, but Pecos made no appeal. He had started out to wreck Boone -Morgan's jail for him, break up his Kangaroo Court, and establish the -revolution, and with Angy's help he would do it, yet. The jail gang -edged in on him a little closer, dogging his steps as the wolf-pack -follows its kill, but at every turn of his shaggy head they slunk away. -Then at last, just as the clock tolled four, the keys clanked in the -outer door; Hung Wo slipped in with his coffee-pot and can, and after -him came Angevine Thorne, escorted by the deputy. - -"Hello, Babe!" chimed a chorus from behind the bars. "Hey, Babe—sing -'Kansas'! Oh, Babe!" But Angevine Thorne had no thought for his quondam -prison mates, he was placing himself on record in a protest against the -law. - -"The Constitution of the United States guarantees to every man a fair -and speedy trial," he declaimed with drunken vehemence, "but look here -and see what a mockery you have made the law! Look at these poor men, -caged up here yet, waiting for their trial! Is that a fair and speedy -hearing? Look at me; arrested for no offence; confined without cause; -condemned without a hearing; imprisoned for no crime! Is that justice? -Justice forsooth! It is conspiracy—treachery—crime! Yes, I say _crime_! -You are the criminals and we the helpless victims of your hands! I -appeal to God, if there is a God, to bear witness of my innocence! -What? I must go in? Then throw open your prison doors—I die a martyr to -the Cause!" - -The clanging of the cell doors gave no pause to his impassioned -eloquence, nor yet his sudden injection into jail; but when, as he -swayed upon his heels, his eyes fell upon the haggard features of Pecos -Dalhart, the apostle of civic equality stopped short and struck his -brow with a despairing hand. - -"What!" he cried. "Are you here, Cumrad? Then let me die forthwith, -for tyranny has done its worst! Pecos Dalhart, immured within prison -walls, torn from the fond embrace of his—but hush, I go too far. Pecos, -old boy, in the years to come your name shall go down to posterity -as a martyr to the Cause. You have been arrested, sir, for no crime -in law or fact, but simply for your outspoken opposition to the foul -conspiracy of capitalism. Oh, that I might stand before the people and -plead your cause—But enough; how are you, Old Hoss?" - -He gathered Pecos into his arms and embraced him, and to the -astonishment of Hung Wo and the prisoners Pecos hugged him to his -breast. - -"I'm dam' glad to see you, Angy," he murmured, "and no mistake. -Here—take this strap and keep them fellers off—I'm dyin' for a sleep." -He reached back for the floor, slipped gently down and stretched out -upon the hard concrete. When Angevine Thorne lifted up his head he was -asleep. - -"Poor old Pecos," said Angy, holding out his hands as Mark Antony did -over Cæsar, "there he lies, a victim to his country's laws. But sleep, -old friend, and the first man that disturbs your dreams will feel the -weight of this!" He held up the alcalde's strap for emphasis, and a low -rumble of disapproval went up from the rows of cells. - -"He broke every head in jail last night," volunteered the deputy, "an' -it's about time he was kangarooed!" - -"Not while I live!" declared Angy tragically. "Right or wrong, the -first man that lays hands on this poor corse will fight it out with me!" - -A chorus of defiance and derision was his only answer, but Angevine -Thorne, being a natural-born orator, knew better than to reiterate -his remarks for emphasis. He balanced the big strap in his hand as -a warrior might test his sword, and squatted down to eat. While the -dinner hour lasted he was safe—after that he would feel his way. So -he put his back to the bars and began to take a little nourishment, -gnashing belligerently at his hunk of meat and fortifying himself -with coffee—but that was not to be the limit of his fare. As he -scuttled back and forth with the prison plates, Hung Wo had kept an -attentive eye upon the prostrate form of his boss and, seeing no -signs of returning animation, had looked worried. At last, as Angy's -protectorate became evident, he returned to his copper can and produced -a fine big pie. - -"This for boss," he said, and placed it by Pecos's head. - -"All right, Wo," responded Angy, "my friend, he sleep. Bimeby wakum -up, I give him pie." He finished up his plate, glanced at the surly -faces behind the bars, and cast a longing look at the fresh-baked pie. -There was going to be a ruction, that was sure, and ructions are bad -for pies. He took Pecos by the shoulder and shook him tentatively; then -with a sigh of Christian resignation he reached over and picked up the -pie. "Dam' shame to go and waste it," he muttered, "an' it's all right, -too." - -The prisoners watched him eat his way through the crust and down -through the middle until finally he licked his finger-tips and smiled. - -"Him good pie, Wo," he observed, rising to his feet, "make me hip -stlong." He shoved Pecos back into the corner, took his place before -him, and balanced the strap for battle. "All right, deputy," he said, -"turn them tarriers loose, and if I don't tan their hides with this -strap they ain't no hell no mo'!" - -The cell doors clanged and flew open, the balked cohorts of the enemy -stepped forth and gathered about him, and as Angy paced back and forth -before his friend he opened wide the flood-gates of his wrath. - -"See the skulkin' curs and cowards," he cried, lashing out at them with -his strap, "see them cringe before the whip like the servile slaves -they are. What has this man done that you should fall upon him? Broke -up your court, hey? Well, what was the court to you? Didn't it punish -you whether you were right or wrong? Didn't it tyrannize over you and -force you to do its will? Ah, despicable dogs, that would lick the hand -that strikes you—come out here, any one of you, and I swear I'll beat -you to death. Hah! You are afraid! You are afraid to face an honest -man and fight him hand to hand! Or is it something else?" The defiant -tone left his voice of a sudden and he looked eagerly into their tense -faces. "Or is it something else?" he cried. "Friends, you have been -shut up here for months by that great crime they call the law. You -know that law—how it protects the rich and crushes down the poor! What -then—do you still worship its outworn forms so that you must suffer -them even in jail? Must you still have a sheriff to harass you, a judge -to condemn you, a district attorney to talk you blind? Must you still -be tyrannized over by a false and illegal court, even in the shadow of -the jail? God forbid! But what then? Ah, yes; what then! Friends, I -bring you the Gospel of Equality; I stand before you to proclaim as our -forebears proclaimed before us, that all men are born free and equal; -I call upon you, even in this prison, to cast aside the superstition -of government and proclaim the revolution! To hell with the Kangaroo -Court! My friend here has beaten up its officers—let us abolish it -forever! What? Is it a go? Then here's to the revolution!" - -He waved his hand above his head, smiling upward at that fair Goddess -of Liberty whom he discerned among the rods; and the gaping prisoners, -carried away by his eloquence, let out a mighty yell of joy. Worn and -jaded by the dull monotony of their life they seized upon the new -religion with undiscriminating zest, passing up the big words and the -moonshine and rejoicing in their noble freedom from restraint. As the -first symptoms of a jail-riot began to develop Boone Morgan and his -deputies rushed out to quell the disturbance, but the revolution gave -no promise of a rough-house. As was to be expected, the prostrate -form of Pecos Dalhart was draped across the foreground—and served him -right, for trying to get too gay—but the other figures were not in good -support. Angevine Thorne stood above the body of his friend, waving -the alcalde's strap, but the Roman mob was sadly out of part. It was -dancing around the room singing "Kansas." - - "I'll tell you what they do—_in Kansas_," - -they howled. - - "I'll tell you what they do—_in Kansas_," - -and at the end of each refrain Angy lifted up his vibrant tenor and -added yet another chapter to the shameless tale. It was a bacchanalia -of song, perhaps; or a saturnalia of inter-State revilings; but none -of the onlookers recognized in the progressive dirtiness of the words -a spirit of protest against the law. The revolution had come, but -like many another promising child it was too young to be clearly -differentiated from its twin brothers, License and Liberty. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -BACK TO NATURE - - -As to what the revolution is or is to be there are no two authorities -who agree. It is not a thing, to be measured and defined; nay, it is -a dream which, like our ideas of heaven, varies with individuals. -To the philosopher it is an earthly realization of all our heavenly -aspirations; to the low-browed man-of-hands something less, since his -aspirations are less, but still good to cure all social ills. When -Pecos Dalhart entered the Geronimo County jail he turned it into his -own idea of the revolution—a fighting man's paradise, like the Valhalla -of the ancients, where the heroes fought all day and were made good as -new over night; but when he woke up from his long sleep, behold, Angy -had established a philosophical revolution in its stead! At first he -was so glad to wake up at all that he did not inspect the new social -structure too closely—it had saved him from a terrible beating, that -was sure—but as the day wore on and a gang of yeggs began to ramp about -he shook his head and frowned. - -"Say, Angy," he said, "what did you tell them fellers last night to -make 'em take on like this?" - -"Told 'em the same old story, Cumrad—how the monopolistic classes has -combined with the hell hounds of the law to grind us pore men down. -Ain't it glorious how the glad news has touched their hearts? Even -within the walls of our prison they are happy!" - -"Umph!" grunted Pecos, and scowled up at a tall Mexican who had -ventured to call him _compadre_. "What's all this _compañero_ talk -that's goin' on amongst the Mexicans—are they in on the deal, too?" - -"Surest thing!" responded Angy warmly. - -"Huh!" said Pecos, "I hope they don't try no _buen' amigo_ racket on -me—I was raised to regard Mexicans like horny toads." - -"All men is brothers—that's my motto. And they's good Mexicans, too, -remember that. Just think of Joe Garcia!" - -"Yes!" rejoined Pecos, with heat, "_think_ of 'im! If it wasn't for -that saddle-colored dastard I'd be free, 'stead of rottin' in this -hole. I says to the judge: 'I bought that cow and calf off of Joe -Garcia—there he is, standin' over there—I summon him for a witness.' -'Is that your calf?' says the judge. 'Kin savvy,' he says, humpin' up -his back. 'Did you sell him to this man?' '_Yo no se!_' says Joe, and -he kept it up with his 'No savvys' and his 'I don't knows' until the -dam' judge throwed me into jail. Sure! I'm stuck on Mexicans! I'll -brother 'em, all right, if they come around me—I'll brother 'em over -the head with a club!" - -"Jest the same, it was Mexicans that saved your bacon last night," -retorted Angy, with spirit. "Some of these white men that you had beat -up were for pushin' your face in while you was asleep, but when I made -a little talk in Spanish, touchin' on your friendly relations with the -Garcia family, the Mexicans came over in a body and took your part. -That was pretty good, hey?" - -"Um," responded Pecos, but he assented without enthusiasm. Barring -the one exception which went to prove the rule, he had never had much -use for Mexicans—and Marcelina was a happy accident, not to be looked -for elsewhere in the Spanish-American world. Still, a man had to have -_some_ friends; and a Mex was better than a yegg, anyhow. He looked -around until he found the tall man who had called him _compadre_ and -beckoned him with an imperious jerk of the head. The Mexican came over -doubtfully. - -"You speak English?" inquired Pecos. "That's good—I want to tell you -something. My friend here says you and your _compadres_ stood up for me -last night when I was down and out—hey? Well, that's all right—I'm a -Texano and I ain't got much use for Mexicanos in general, but any time -you boys git into trouble with them yeggs, jest call on me! Savvy?" - -The tall man savvied and though Pecos still regarded them with disfavor -the Mexican contingency persisted in doing him homage—only now they -referred to him as _El Patrón_. _Patrón_ he was, and Boss, though he -never raised a hand. Interpreting aright his censorious glances the -sons of Mexico confined their celebration of the Dawn of Freedom to -a carnival of neglect, lying in their bunks and smoking _cigarritos_ -while the filth accumulated in the slop cans. Under the iron rule of -Pete Monat they had been required to do all the cleaning up—for in -Arizona a Mexican gets the dirty end of everything—but no sooner had -Babe sung his clarion call for freedom than they joined him, heart and -hand. If the Society of the Revolution was at all related to the Sons -of Rest they wanted to go down as charter members—and they did. - -The time may come when cleanliness will be an inherited instinct -but at present most of the cleaning up in the world is done under -compulsion. Parents compel their children to wash and change their -clothes; employers compel their wage-slaves to scrub and clean and -empty; cities compel their householders to dispose of sewage and -garbage; but not even among members of the capitalistic classes is -there shown any clean-cut desire to do the work themselves. The Arizona -Indians escape their obligations by moving camp at intervals, and God's -sunshine helps out the settlers; but in the Geronimo jail there was no -sunshine, nor could any Indian break camp. They were shut in, and there -they had to lie, three deep, until the judge should decide their fate. -For two days they had luxuriated in anarchy, philosophical and real, -but neither kind emptied any garbage. The jail was the dwelling place -of Freedom, but it smelled bad. That was a fact. Even the Mexicans -noticed it, but they did not take it to heart. It was only when Boone -Morgan came down for a batch of prisoners that the community got its -orders to clean up. - -These were busy days with Boone—opening court, arraigning prisoners, -summoning witnesses, roping in jurymen, speaking a good word for some -poor devil in the tanks—and it kept him on the run from sun-up to dark. -He knew that Pecos Dalhart had broken up his Kangaroo Court and that -Angevine Thorne had pulled off some kind of a tin-horn revolution on -him, but he didn't mind a little thing like that. Jail life had its -ups and downs, but so long as the cage was tight the birds could do as -they pleased—short of raising a riot. At least, that was Boone Morgan's -theory, based on the general proposition that he could stand it as -long as they could—but when at the end of the second day he caught a -whiff of the sublimated jail-smell that rose from the abiding place of -liberty he let out a "whoosh" like a bear. - -"Holy Moses, Bill," he cried, "make these rascals clean up! M-mmm! -That would drive a dog out of a tan-yard! What's the matter—is somebody -dead?" - -"Not yet," responded Bill Todhunter, "but they will be, if we don't git -some trusty in there. Them fellers won't do _nuthin'_—an' I can't go in -there and make 'em! You better appoint another alcalde." - -"What's the matter with Pete?" - -"His head is too sore—he won't be able to put up a fight for a month." - -"Umm, and Mike is fixed worse yet—where's that crazy cowman, Pecos -Dalhart?" - -They found Pecos comfortably bestowed in the bunk of the end cell, -philosophically smoking jail tobacco as a deodorizer. - -"Say," said the sheriff, brusquely addressing him through the bars, -"things are gittin' pretty rotten around here—somebody ought to make -them Mexicans clean up. You put my Kangaroo Court out of business—how'd -you like the job yourself?" - -Pecos grunted contemptuously. - -"Don't want it, hey? Well, you don't have to have it—I can get that big -sheep-man down from the upper tanks." - -A cold glint came into Pecos Dalhart's eyes, but he made no remarks—a -big sheep-man would just about fall in with his mood. - -"I got to have some kind of a trusty," observed Morgan, but as Pecos -did not rise to the bait, he passed down the run-around grumbling. - -"He's a sulky brute," said Bill Todhunter, as they retreated from the -stench, "better leave him alone a while and see if we can't stink him -out." - -"Well, you order them Mexicans to clean up," rumbled the sheriff, "and -if this here Pecos Dalhart makes any more trouble I'll see that he gits -roped and hog-tied. And say, throw old Babe out of there as soon as he -gits his supper. Them two fellers are side-kickers in this business -and we got to bust 'em up. It's a good thing the grand jury ain't in -session now—I'd git hell for the condition of that jail." - -There never was a jail so clean it didn't smell bad, but that night -the Geronimo jail broke into the same class with the Black Hole -of Calcutta, yet the inmates seemed to enjoy it. The yegg gang in -particular—a choice assortment of Chi Kids, Denver Slims, and Philly -Blacks who had fled from the Eastern winter—were having the time of -their lives, rampaging up and down the corridor, upsetting cuspidors, -throwing water from the wash-room, and making themselves strictly at -home. When the sturdy form of Pecos Dalhart appeared in the door of -Cell One they slackened their pace a little, but now that the moral -restraint of Babe was gone they felt free as the prairie wind. Only in -their avoidance of Mexicans did they show a certain consciousness of -authority, for the word had passed that Pecos was _buen' amigo_ with -the _umbres_ and no one was looking for a rough-house. As for Pecos, -he put in his time thinking, standing aloof from friends and enemies -alike—and his thoughts were of the revolution. When he had been off -by himself reading the _Voice of Reason_ he had been astounded at the -blank stupidity of the common people, which alone was holding mankind -back from its obvious destiny. "Think, Slave, think!" it used to say; -and thinking was so easy for him. But the blind and brutish wage slaves -who were dragged at the chariot wheels of capitalism—well, perhaps they -had not yet learned how. Anyway, he had seen how inevitable was the -revolution, and whichever way he turned he saw new evidences of that -base conspiracy between wealth and government which keeps the poor man -down. Nay, he had not only seen it—he had suffered at its hand. Yet -there was one thing which he had never realized before, though the -_Voice of Reason_ was full of it—the low and churlish spirit of the -masses which incapacitated them for freedom. Take those yeggs, now. -They had been freed from the hard and oppressive hand of tyranny and -yet as soon as the Kangaroo Court was abolished they began to raise -particular hell. It was discouraging. There was only one way to beat -sense into some people, and that was with a club. A cuspidor came the -length of the corridor and Pecos rose slowly from his couch. What was -the use of trying the revolution on a gang of narrow-headed yeggs! - -"Hey," he challenged, "you yaps want to key down a little or I'll -rattle your heads together. Go on into your cells now, and shut up." -He fixed the yegg-men sternly with his eye, but the blood had gone to -their heads from gambolling about and they still had their dreams of -heaven. - -"Aw, gwan," said Philly Black, "we ain't doin' nawthin'—give a feller a -show, can't ye?" - -"W'y, sure, I'll give you a show!" thundered Pecos wrathfully. "You -yeggs think because I licked Pete Monat I give you license to prize up -hell. You got this jail like a hog-waller already in two days. Now, -clean up, you dastards, and the first man that opens his face to me -will go to the doctor!" - -There was no easy answer to an argument like that and the gang slouched -sullenly to their task, making all the motions of a superficial -cleaning up but leaving the jail dirtier than ever. With his strap -poised Pecos stood over them, reading well the insubordination in -their black hearts and waiting only for some one to start the fray. At -every move the yeggs became viler and more slipshod in their methods, -spilling half the contents of every can upon the floor, and still Pecos -Dalhart eyed them grimly, while the awe-stricken Mexicans huddled -together in their cells waiting for the catastrophe. At last Philly -Black, emboldened by his immunity, was moved to take a chance. Seizing -recklessly upon the nearest can he made a rush for the wash-room, -slopping filth and corruption as he went. As he passed Pecos his hold -slipped, accidentally, of course, and the can fell to the floor with -a final overflowing of uncleanness. - -"Clean that up," Pecos said, as Philly Black came to a crouch, but -Philly only looked over his shoulder. "Clean that up!" commanded Pecos, -drawing nearer. "_Clean_—" but Philly was cleaning up. His gang had not -rallied to his aid. Slowly and slovenly, and making ugly faces, he bent -to his unwilling task, scowling beneath his black mop of hair at Denver -and Chi and the gang. - -"I said _clean up_!" rumbled Pecos, as Philly grabbed his can to go. -"_Clean up!_ You don't call that clean, do you?" - -"Aw, go t'hell!" bellowed Philly Black, hurling his slop-can once more -upon the floor. "Let the dam' Mexicans clean up!" - -He dodged the swift swing of the strap and leapt in, calling on his -fellows for aid. For a moment they wrestled furiously, and as the yeggs -rushed in to help, the Mexicans swarmed out to meet them; but before -either side could lend a hand Philly Black slipped on his own dirty -floor and went down with a deadly thud. Pecos rode him to the floor, -clutching fiercely at his throat; for an instant he waited for him to -fight back, then he sprang up and waded into the yeggs. Philly was -where he would make no trouble for quite a while. - -Once more at the clamor of battle the jail deputies came rushing to the -rescue, bending their futile pistols upon the yelling prisoners. - -"It's that blankety-blank, Pecos Dalhart!" shouted Bill Todhunter as he -goggled through the bars. "Well, the son of a goat, ain't he a fightin' -fool!" There was a note almost of admiration in his voice, for Pecos -was punching heads and belting yeggs with the calculating rage of a -conqueror. - -"Git out of my way, _umbres_!" he yelled to his Mexican retainers. -"_Vaya se—vamos_—I can fix 'em!" And he surely did. In his strong -hands the alcalde's strap was a deadly weapon; he swung it with a -puncher's skill and laid it on like a horse-wrangler. Shrieks for -mercy were mingled with howls of pain and every time a man stood up to -him he slugged him with all his strength. The floor was strewn with -yeggs and when he had beaten down all opposition he flogged them into -their cells. - -[Illustration: "You _will_ turn this jail into a hog-waller, will you?" -he demanded] - -"You _will_ turn this jail into a hog-waller, will you?" he demanded, -when the corridor was cleared of men. "You _will_ throw slops on the -floor and not half clean 'em up! Well, come outer there, you low-browed -hobos—_I'll_ show you how it's done! Now take them swabs and fill your -cans with water and wash this floor up right. No, you stay where you -are, _umbres_; I want to show these brake-beam tourists who's the boss. -_Jump_ now, you panhandlers, or I'll burn you up with this!" He swung -his wet strap and popped it behind the Chi Kid, and Chi went on his -way. Bill Todhunter and the jail deputy looked curiously on through -the bars; the reporter for the morning _Blade_ showed up suddenly -from nowhere and began to ask leading questions, but Pecos did not -unbend. In vain the reporter tried to beckon him up to the bars—Pecos -remembered him too well as the fresh young man who had made a jest -of his breaking into jail; also he hoped he could do a little job of -house-cleaning without going on record as the friend of old Boone -Morgan. He might be a little weak on the revolution but he knew his -natural enemies. These were the men who had thrown him into jail for -branding his own cow's calf; they were the hirelings of the System, -friends to the rich and enemies to the poor; to them the agony of his -soul was no more than a passing jest. He turned on the reporter and -scowled. - -"Go take a run and jump at yourself!" he said. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE POWER OF THE PRESS - - -The power of a venal and subsidized press in moulding public opinion is -a thing that can hardly be overstated, even by the _Voice of Reason_. -When Pecos Dalhart told the willowy young man from the _Blade_ to take -a running jump at himself he expressed as in no other way his absolute -contempt for society. Young Mr. Baker of the Geronimo _Blade_ had the -cigarette habit, he drank whiskey, and his private life would not -bear too close inspection—he was hardly the man that one would choose -as a censor of public character—and yet he held the job. When Pecos -had broken up Boone Morgan's Kangaroo Court and spoiled the clever -little court-house skit that Mr. Baker had framed up in his mind, that -unprincipled young man had alluded to him, briefly and contemptuously, -as a bad _hombre_ from the Verde country, a desperate fellow, etc., and -had ended by saying that Sheriff Morgan, who was convinced that he had -a dangerous criminal on his hands, was looking up his record in Texas. -That was a lovely introduction for a man who was held for the grand -jury—it reached the eye of nearly every qualified juror in the county -and was equivalent to about seven years in Yuma. If Mr. Baker had been -human this last admonition about the running jump would have raised -it to fourteen years, but they were short of copy that day and Baker -was only a reporter, so he sharpened up his pencil and wrote a little -jolly, just to keep Boone Morgan in good humor. - - JAIL STRIKE A FAILURE - - "Mr. Pecos Q. Dalhart, who signalized his incarceration in the - county jail by breaking up the prisoners' court, sending the Hon. - Pete Monat and Michael Slattery to the hospital, and beating - up the defenceless inmates with a chair, pulled off another - little _soirée_ last night, though for a different cause. It - appears that when Mr. Dalhart registered at the Hotel de Morgan - he had been reading a certain incendiary sheet which panders - to the unreasoning prejudice of the ignorant by a general rave - against the established order of things. With his mind inflamed - by this organ of anarchy Mr. Dalhart conceived the original and - ambitious idea of destroying the last vestige of law, order, and - government within the walls of his prison, and Sheriff Morgan, - being of a tolerant disposition, decided to let him try it on and - see how he enjoyed the results. Not every public officer would - have had the courage to permit such a firebrand to carry on his - propaganda unhindered, but Boone Morgan has merited the confidence - of every citizen of Geronimo County by his fearless handling - of the desperate men entrusted to his care, and the outcome of - this episode is a case in point. Only three days were needed to - convince the bad man from Verde Crossing of the error of his way. - His first outbreak was to destroy all law and order—his second was - to enforce the sanitary regulations of the prison. By his sudden - and decided stand for cleanliness Mr. Dalhart has shown that he - possesses the capacity for better things, even if he did make a - slight mistake in regard to Isaac Crittenden's spotted calf. The - scrap was a jim-dandy, while it lasted, but the issue was never in - doubt, for the Verde terror is a whirlwind when he gets started. - There have been house-cleanings galore in the past, but never - within the memory of man has the Geronimo jail received such a - washing and scrubbing as was administered when Dalhart rose up in - his wrath and put down the very strike which he had organized; - and while the sheriff cannot but deprecate his tendency to resort - to violence there is no gainsaying the fact that in this case his - motives were of the best. Stay with it, Pecos, you may be alcalde - yet!" - -Pecos Dalhart was sitting in lonely state, eating the fresh-baked pie -which Hung Wo conferred upon him as the Boss, when Bill Todhunter -shoved a copy of the Geronimo _Blade_ through the bars. - -"See you got yore name in the paper," he observed, but Pecos only -grunted. Curiosity is an attribute of the child—and besides, he was -more interested in his pie. It had always been an ambition of his -to have pie three times a day, and the steady round of beef, bread, -and coffee incidental to life on the range had made that hope seem a -dream dear enough almost to justify matrimony. At least, he had never -expected to attain to it any other way; but Hung Wo was a good cook, -when he wanted to be. To serve two prison meals a day for fourteen -cents and a profit meant pretty close figuring, and the patrons of -Hung Wo's downtown restaurant needed to have no compunctions about -leaving a part of their bounteous dinner untouched—the guests of the -Hotel de Morgan were not supposed to be superstitious about eating -"come-backs." It would be a poor Chinaman who could not feed you on ten -cents a day, if you didn't care what you ate. But Pecos cared, and he -cast a glance that was almost benevolent upon his faithful pie-maker as -he tucked the _Blade_ into his shirt. - -"That's good pie, Charley," he said approvingly. "Some day when you -ketchum big hurry I make him boy wash dishes." - -"Allite," responded Hung Wo, "you likee kek?" - -"Sure thing! You savvey makum cake?" - -"Me makum kek, pie, cha'lotte lusse, custa'd, plenty mo'!" declaimed -Charley, with pride. - -"Sure! I know you! You keep big restaurant—down by Turf Saloon, hey? I -eat there, one time—heap good!" - -"You tlink so?" beamed the child-like Oriental. "Allite, next time me -bingum kek!" He gathered up the tin pannikins and departed, radiant, -while Pecos crouched peacefully on his heels against the corridor bars. - -"Say, they's a piece about you in that paper," volunteered Todhunter, -as he jerked open the cell doors, "that young feller that was here last -night wrote it up." - -"Aw, to hell with 'im," growled Pecos scornfully; but at the same time -he was interested. Life within prison walls is not very exciting—there -is lots of company, but not of the best, and any man who does not want -to hear dirty stories or learn how "mooching" and "scoffing" is done, -or the details of the jungle life, is likely in time to become lonely. -Already he was hungry for the outdoor life—the beating of the hot sun, -the tug of the wind, the feel of the saddle between his knees—but alas, -he was doomed to spend his unprofitable days in jail, a burden to -himself and society! Six months in jail, before he could come before -the grand jury and have his trial—six months, and it had not yet been -six days. He drew the morning _Blade_ from his bosom and examined -it carefully, searching vainly through editorial columns and patent -insides until at last he caught the heading: "Jail Strike a Failure. -Bad Man from Verde Crossing Makes Prisoners Clean Up." Then he read -the article through carefully, mumbling over the big words in the hope -of sensing their meaning and lingering long over his name in print. At -the allusion to the _Voice of Reason_ he flushed hot with indignation; -muttered curses greeted the name of Sheriff Morgan; but every time he -came to "Mr. Dalhart" he smiled weakly and nursed his young mustache. -But after he had finished he went back and gazed long and intently at -his full name as given at the beginning:—"Mr. Pecos Q. Dalhart"—Pecos -Q.! He read the entire paper over carefully and came back to it again; -and that evening, when Mr. Baker of the _Blade_ strolled in, he -beckoned him sternly to the bars. - -"Say," he said, "what the hell you mean by puttin' that 'Q.' in my -name—Pecos Q. Dalhart? My name is Pecos straight—named after that river -in Texas!" - -"Oh, is it?" cried the young reporter, making a hurried note. "Well, -I beg your pardon, Mr. Dalhart, I'm sure. How's house-cleaning to-day? -Organized your court yet? No? Well, when you do, let me know. Always -like to be present, you understand, when you have a trial." He hurried -away, as if upon important business, and slowed down as suddenly before -the sheriff's office. - -"That 'Q.' did the business," he observed, glancing triumphantly at the -assembled company. "I told you I'd make that rustler talk. A man may -not give a dam' what you say about him but he goes crazy if you get -his name wrong—I found that out long ago. Mr. Dalhart informs me that -his name is Pecos straight—no 'Q.' in it. Pecos Straight Dalhart! All -right, I'll try to get it right next time. What'll you bet we don't -have another Kangaroo Court before the end of the week?" - -"The cigars," replied Boone Morgan casually. As a politician, cigars -were a matter of small import to him—when he was not giving them away -his friends were giving cigars to him. - -"I'll go you!" cried Baker enthusiastically, "and the drinks, too. You -better turn Mr. Dalhart over to me for a while and watch me make a man -out of him. All I ask is that you give him the morning _Blade_." - -"All right," assented Bill Todhunter, from the corner; and the next -morning Pecos received it with his breakfast. Charley Hung Wo had -provided him with an unusually tempting apple roll that morning but it -was neglected for the moment while he ran over the Court House Briefs. -He searched the whole page carefully, but there was no mention of Pecos -Dalhart, either with or without the "Q." He pondered upon the fact -during the day—having nothing else to do—and when the Friday paper -came out with nothing about the Hotel de Morgan in it he considered -the matter seriously. Then it came over him gradually—there was -nothing mysterious about it—the reporter was waiting for something -to happen—a kangaroo trial, or something like that. Well, anything for -a little excitement—why not? There were lots of things to be remedied. -The yeggs had a dirty way of tapping on the boiler-iron doors and -singing lewd songs after they were locked into their cells for the -night, a combination which broke in on his sleep; and knowing that they -were safe from his strap they persisted in this amusement until they -could sing no more, stoutly denying all knowledge of the disturbance in -the morning. It was the only revenge they could take on him and they -worked it to the limit. Not to be outdone in the matter of revenge he -drove them like a pack of peons in the morning, forcing them to do all -the cleaning while his Mexican friends rolled _cigarritos_—but that -was getting wearisome. Yet how easy it would be to change! The verdict -of a kangaroo jury is always "Guilty"—why not accuse half the yeggs of -disturbing the peace, appoint the jury from the other half, and let -yegg nature do the rest? Then sentence the prisoners at the bar to -clean up for a week. Why not, indeed! - -At supper time Pecos spoke a few invitational words through the bars to -Bill Todhunter and about the time the boy reporter from the _Blade_ was -due he placed his chair against the doors and called his court to order. - -"_Oyez! Oyez!_ The Kangaroo Court of Geronimo is now in session!" he -announced, in stentorian tones, and instantly the prisoners began to -assemble. "_Oyez_" was good Spanish for "Hear!" and brought out all the -Mexicans; and the Americans came on the run, eager for any excitement -to pass the time away. - -"Blacky," said Pecos, addressing the one-time king of the yeggs, "bring -the Chi Kid before the bar of justice. He is accused of disturbing the -peace by singin' songs all night." - -Without a moment's hesitation Philly Black laid violent hands upon his -friend and cellmate and dragged him before the court. The mandates of -the law are inexorable; and besides, Philly wanted the job of sheriff. - -"Come up here, Chi," he swaggered, fetching Chi Kid around with a jerk, -"now stand there, or I'll punch youse in the jaw!" Chi stood, reading -his fate in every eye. - -"Now, summon me a couple of witnesses!" commanded Pecos, and as Blacky -sifted through the crowd looking for a pair of men who could stand the -Kid off later, Boone Morgan and the boy reporter arrived from the outer -office and stood by to see the fun. - -"Chi Kid," declaimed the judge, "you are accused of singin' dirty songs -all night and disturbin' of the peace. Do you plead guilty or not -guilty?" - -"Not guilty!" responded Chi, rolling his evil eyes on the witnesses. - -"Bring up them witnesses!" said Pecos briefly. "Slim, did you hear the -accused singing' them dirty songs of his last night?" - -"Yes, Yer Honor!" answered Denver Slim dutifully, "and I couldn't -hardly sleep—Yer Honor!" - -"Urr—it's too bad about you," commented the alcalde. "Bring up that -other witness!" The other witness had suffered a similar insomnia. -"That's all!" announced Pecos, with finality, "got to hurry this case -through now. Got anything to say for yourse'f, prisoner?" - -"I demand a jury trial!" growled the Kid. - -"Too late for that now—the defendant is found guilty and sentenced to -clean up for a week or git forty blows with the strap. Sheriff, bring -me Denver Slim!" - -There was a genuine commotion at this, but Philly Black produced the -accused—he had to, or lose his job. - -"Denver Slim, you are accused of hammerin' on your door all night and -disturbin' of the peace. Do you plead guilty or not guilty?" - -Denver turned and made three successive jabs at the jail sheriff, who -had ruffled his feelings from behind; then he drew himself up and -remarked: - -"I don't plead!" - -"'Don't plead' is the same as 'Not guilty,'" said Pecos, remembering -his experience with Pete Monat, "and more than that," he thundered, -"it's the same as contempt of court! Mr. Sheriff, spread-eagle the -prisoner over a chair while I give him ten good ones for contempt—the -trial will then proceed!" He rose from his chair and approached the -defendant warily, hefting his strap as he came, and Denver became so -deeply engrossed in his movements that Philly Black closed with him -from the rear. There was a struggle, gazed upon judicially by the -alcalde, and at last with a man on every arm and leg Denver was laid -sprawling over the back of the chair while the prisoners gibbered -with delight. The blows were laid on soundly and yet with a merciful -indulgence and when the humiliating ceremony was over Pecos had won -every heart but one. Denver Slim was sore, of course; but how are you -to have a Roman holiday unless somebody else gets hurt? They had a long -and protracted jury trial after this, with a fiery denunciation of -law-breakers by John Doe, the district attorney; and the verdict, of -course, was "Guilty." Then they kangarooed a few Mexicans to clean up -their side of the house and ended with a jubilee chorus of "Kansas." - - "I'll tell you what they do—_in Kansas_!" - -It was great. There was a piece about it in the paper the next morning -and prospective grand jurymen slapped their legs and remarked, one to -the other: "That Pecos Dalhart is a proper fighting fool, ain't he? I -reckon Old Crit just jumped him into that racket up the river in order -to git him out of the country. It's a dam' shame, too, when you think -how many Crit has stole!" - -But alas, neither public praise nor blame could open up the bars and -let Pecos out of jail. He was held by a power higher than any man—the -power of the Law, which, because it has endured so long and is, in -fact, all we have, is deemed for that reason sacred. And the law was -busy—it is always busy—and behind. Well, Pecos didn't know much about -it, except what he had read in the _Voice of Reason_, but as he heard -the ponderous wheels of the law grinding about him, saw yeggs escape by -cleverly devised tales and Mexicans soaked because they were slow and -dumb, he wondered if that was the only way they could make a stagger at -justice. A drunken cowboy had seized a gay man-about-town and taken his -pen-knife from his pocket—grand larceny of the person, he was sentenced -to seven years. Another drunken reprobate had beaten up the roustabout -in a saloon—and got thirty days for assault and battery. Both drunk -and both bad, but one had played to hard luck. He had taken property, -the other had hurt a man. Pecos saw when it was too late where he had -marred his game—he should have beaten Old Crit instead of branding his -calf. - -In sombre silence he listened day by day as the jail-lawyers—wise -criminals who had been in the toils before—cooked up stories to explain -away misdeeds; he watched day by day as the prisoners came down from -their trial, some with bowed heads or cursing blindly, others laughing -hysterically as they scuttled out the door; and many a man who had -sworn to a lie went free where simple-minded sinners plead guilty and -took their fate. Some there were who had boggled their stories because -their dull minds could not compass the deceit; the district attorney -had torn them to flinders, raging and threatening them with his finger -for the perjured fools they were, and the judge had given them the -limit for swearing to a lie. Even in jail it was the poor and lowly who -were punished, while the jail-lawyers and those who could afford the -petty dollar that hired them took shelter behind the law. Yes, it was -all a game, and the best man won—if he held the cards. - -Slowly and with painstaking care Pecos went over his own case, -comparing it with these others, and his heart sank as he saw where the -odds lay. The spotted calf was his—he could swear to it—but it bore -the brand of Crittenden and he had lost his bill of sale. There were -forty two-gun cowboys working for Crit and any one of them would swear -him into jail for a drink—they had done it, so he knew. José Garcia -was afraid to tell the truth and Crittenden would scare him worse than -ever before the trial took place. Ah, that trial—it was more than five -months off yet and he could not stir a foot! Once outside the bars -and free-footed he could shake up the dust; he could rustle up his -witnesses and his evidence and fight on an equality with Crit. But no, -the munneypullistic classes had a bigger pull on him than ever, now—he -was jailed in default of bail and no one would put up the price. God, -what an injustice! A rich man—a man with a single friend who could put -up a thousand dollars' bail—_he_ could go free, to hire his lawyers, -look up his witnesses, and fight his case in the open; but a poor -man—he must lay his condemned carcass in jail and keep it there while -the law went on its way. Day by day now the prisoners went to Yuma -to serve their time, or passed out into the world. But were those who -passed out innocent? The law said so, for it set them free. And yet -they were white with the deadly pallor of the prison, their hands were -weak from inactivity, and their minds poisoned by the vile company of -yeggs; they had lain there in the heat all summer while judges went to -the coast and grand jurymen harvested their hay, and after all their -suffering, as a last and crowning flaunt, the law had declared them -innocent! It had been many days since Pecos had seen the _Voice of -Reason_ and he had lost his first enthusiasm for the revolution, but -nothing could make him think that this was right. The Law was like -his kangaroo court, that travesty which he made more villainous in -order to show his scorn; it laid hold upon the innocent and guilty and -punished them alike. Only the sturdy fighters, like him, escaped—or the -prisoners who had their dollar. That was it—money! And Pecos Dalhart -had always been poor. - -As the mills of the gods ground on, Pete Monat, with his bandaged -head, and Mike Slattery, still nursing his battered jaw, were removed -from the bridal chamber, tried, and lodged in the tanks for safety. -Pete had hired a shyster lawyer and got ten years in Yuma; Mike had -plead his own case and escaped with only three. It was this last -lesson that Pecos conned in his heart. When Slattery the yegg was -arrested he had feigned an overpowering drunkenness, and though the -case was all against him—he had been caught in the act of burglarizing -a lodging-house and was loaded down with loot—he had nevertheless -framed up a good defence. With the artless innocence of the skilled -"moocher" he explained to the court that while under the influence of -no less than seven drinks of straight alcohol he had mistaken another -gentleman's room for his own and had gathered up his wardrobe under -the misapprehension that it was his own. At every attempt to prove his -culpability he had represented that, beyond the main facts, his mind -was a complete blank, at the same time giving such a witty description -of the paralyzing effects of "Alki" that even the district attorney -had laughed. According to Mike that was the way to get off easy, be -polite and respectful-like to the judge and jury and jolly up the -prosecuting attorney—and in this contention the unfortunate experience -of Pete Monat clearly bore him out. Pete had made the fatal mistake -of hiring, with two months' back pay, a "sucking lawyer" who had so -antagonized the district attorney that that gentleman had become -enraged, making such a red-hot speech against the damnable practice of -horse-stealing—"a crime, gentlemen of the jury, which, because it may -leave the innocent owner of that horse to die of thirst on the desert, -ought by rights to be made a capital offence"—that poor Pete was found -guilty and sentenced before he could build up a new defence. - -"Oh, I don't hold nothin' agin you, Pardner," he replied, in answer to -Pecos's solicitude for the influence of his battered head, "the jury -didn't cinch me for my looks—it's that dam' narrer-headed jack-lawyer -that I got to thank f'r this. He wouldn't let me tell my story, jest -the way it was. You know, an' I know, that when a man gits his time on -the range the boss is obligated to give him a mount to town. How's a -cowboy goin' to git his riggin' to town—walk and pack his saddle? Well, -now, jest because I give old Sage some back talk and quit him when he -was short-handed he told me to walk; an' me, like the dam' fool I was, -I went out and roped a hoss instead. Then, jest to git even, he had me -arrested for a hoss-thief. But would this pin-head of a lawyer hear to -a straight talk like that? No—he has me plead 'Not guilty' and swear -I never took the hoss—an' you know the rest. That district attorney -is a mean devil—he won't let nobody stand against him—you might as -well plead 'Guilty' and take the mercy of the court as to try to buck -against him. But whatever you do, Pardner, don't hire no tin-horn -lawyer—I give ten years of my life to find that out." Pete sighed and -rubbed his rough hands together wearily—it would be long before they -felt the rope and the branding iron and the hard usage of honest toil. -A great pity came over Pecos at the thought of his unhappy lot, and -he treated him kindly before the other prisoners; but all the time a -greater fear was clutching at his heart. Pete had taken a horse, but -he had burned a calf—and Arizona hates a rustler worse than it hates -a horse-thief. For all his strength and spirit, he was caught—caught -like a rat in a trap—and as the imminence of his fate came over him he -lost his leonine bearing and became furtive, like the rest of them. -Outwardly he was the same, and he ruled the jail with a rod of iron, -but at heart he was a true prisoner—cunning, cringing, watchful, -dangerous—all his faculties centred upon that one thought, to escape! - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE LAW'S DELAY - - -As the first hot days of summer came on, the district court of Geronimo -County closed; the judge, having decided each case according to the law -and the evidence, hurried upon his way, well satisfied; the deputies -took a last disconsolate batch of prisoners to Yuma, and Pecos Dalhart -sat down to ponder on his case. The tanks were nearly empty now, except -for the drunks and vags that the constables brought in and the grist -for the next grand jury. It was a dreary grist, each man swearing his -innocence with unnatural warmth until the general cynicism of the place -shamed him to silence. Pecos loathed them, the whining, browbeaten -slaves. After he had sounded the depths of human depravity until there -was no more wickedness to learn he drew more and more aloof from his -companions, thinking his own thoughts in silence. When Boone Morgan -came in, or the _Blade_ reporter, he conversed with them, quietly and -respectfully—Boone Morgan could speak a word to the judge, and Baker -held the ear of the great public. They were very kind to Pecos now, -and often, after some ingenious write-up of his exploits, crowds of -visitors would come to stare at the grim rustler who ruled the Kangaroo -Court. There were no signs of the social theorist about him now, and -the revolution was a broken dream—he could not afford such dreams. Let -the rich and the free hold fast to their convictions and their faith—he -was trying to get out of jail. - -The heat of midsummer came on apace, and the sun, beating against -the outer walls, turned the close prison into an oven by day and a -black hole of misery at night. The palpitating air seemed to press -upon them, killing the thought of sleep, and the prisoners moaned -and tossed in their bunks, or fell into fitful slumbers, broken by -the high insistent whine of mosquitoes or the curses of the vags. Of -curses there were a plenty before the cool weather came, and protests -and complaints, but none from Pecos Dalhart. In the long watches of -the night he possessed his soul of a mighty patience, to endure all -things, if he could only go free. Even with a jail missionary, who -distributed tracts and spoke bodingly of a great punishment to come, he -was patient; and the missionary, poor simple man that he was, proffered -him in return the consolation of religion. Being of a stiffnecked -and perverse generation Pecos declined to confess his sins—the -missionary might be subpœnaed by the prosecution—but he listened with -long-suffering calm to the Prodigal Son, the Good Samaritan, and the -parable of the seeds that were sown on stony ground. In themselves the -stories were good—nor were they strange to Pecos, for his mother had -been a good Methodist—but the preacher spoiled them by a too pointed -application of the moral to his own unfortunate case. Still, he let -it go—anything was better than listening to the yeggs—and waited for -the sermon to end. There was a favor that he wanted to ask. Many years -ago—it was at camp-meeting and the shouters were dancing like mad—he -had promised his sainted mother to read the Bible through if she would -quit agonizing over his soul, but the promise he never kept. Small -print was hard on his young eyes that were so quick to see a cow, and -he put the matter off until such a time as he should break a leg or get -sick or otherwise find time to spare. Well, he had all the time there -was, now, and it would give him something to do. - -"Say, Pardner," he observed, as the missionary pressed a sheaf of -tracts upon him at parting, "is this the best you can do? I was -powerful interested in them stories—how about a Bible?" - -Bibles were a scarce article in those parts, but Pecos got one, and -after laying bets with various flippant prisoners, he read it from -cover to cover, religiously. Then, just to show his bringing up, he -went back and read over all the big wars and fights and the troubles of -Moses in the wilderness. Still there was time to spare and he read of -Daniel and Nehemiah and the prophets who had cried unto Israel. It was -a poor beginning, but somehow when he was reading the Bible he forgot -the heat and the vileness of the jail and won back his self-respect. In -that long catalogue of priests and prophets and leaders of the people -what one was there, from Joseph to Jesus, who had not been cast into -prison? The universality of their fate seemed to cheer him and give him -something in common—perhaps they were of some kin with the apostles -of the revolution. And in the long, suffocating nights he would think -back to the mud-streaked adobe house that he had called home and hear -his mother patting softly on her knees and singing: "Oh, come to Jesus, -come to Jesus—" with a little Texas _yupe_ at the end of every line. So -he wore the summer's heat away, and with the return of cool weather -his mind went back to his case. - -There was no use trying to do anything before the grand jury, so -everybody said; that great bulwark of the people generally indicted -every one that the district attorney shook his finger at and let the -judge find out later whether he was innocent—that was his business, -anyway. Besides—whatever else he did—Pecos was going to be careful not -to offend the district attorney. The sad case of Pete Monat, who must -have put in an awful summer at Yuma, was ever in his mind, and while -he would not go so far as to plead guilty in order to accommodate the -choleric Mr. Kilkenny, he was firmly resolved not to antagonize him in -the trial. He had money, too—five months' wages, deposited with the -sheriff—but a hundred and fifty dollars would not hire a man who could -stand up against District Attorney Kilkenny, the terror of evil-doers. -As a man, Shepherd Kilkenny was all right—a devoted husband, a loving -father, all the other good things you read on a gravestone—but as -a prosecuting attorney he was a devil. At every biennial election -he got all the votes there were on his court record. He convicted -everybody—except a few whose friends had worked a rabbit's foot for -them—and convicted them beyond appeal. That saved money to the county. -His reputation for convictions was so great that most of the petty -criminals pled guilty and came down like Davey Crockett's coon, before -he had a chance to shoot. That expedited the court calendar and saved -thousands of dollars in fees and witness expenses—another good thing -for the honest tax-payer. In fact, everything that Shepherd Kilkenny -did was for the benefit of the Geronimo tax-payers, and Yuma was -crowded with convicts to prove that he knew his business. That was what -he was hired for—to convict law-breakers—and if he let a single guilty -man escape he was recreant to his trust. Kilkenny had a stern sense of -civic responsibility—he got them, if it took a leg. - -There had been a time when Shepherd Kilkenny believed that every man -who had the price was innocent. That was when, as a rising young -lawyer, he was defending criminals in the courts; and he threw so many -miscreants loose and made such a show of old Trusdale, the former -district attorney, that the community in a burst of popular indignation -put the old man out and gave Kilkenny his job. At this Kilkenny brought -out an entirely new set of adjectives, changed all his fixed opinions -in a day, and, being now in a position to square himself with the -real Law, which holds that a man is guilty until he can prove himself -innocent, he became a flaming sword against the transgressor. His -conversion also enabled him to slough off the old pathetic-fallacy -line of talk that he had been called upon to use in pleading before -a jury and to adopt a more dignified and denunciatory style, a cross -between Demosthenes and the Daniel Webster school. The prosperous life -of a politician jollied him up a bit, too; he developed a certain -sardonic humor in the handling of unfavorable witnesses, and got off a -good one every once in a while for the benefit of the reporters. But -there was one thing that Shepherd Kilkenny could not tolerate, and that -was another rising young criminal lawyer trying to defeat the ends of -justice and beat him out of his job. Yuma was full of Pete Monats who -had fallen victims to this feud, and Pecos resolved to plead his case -himself before he would take chances on a sucking lawyer. - -It was while he was in this vacillating mood and feeling mighty lonely -and lost to the world that he heard late one night a familiar whoop -from the jag-cell, followed by a fiery oration in the vernacular. -It was Angy, down for his periodical drunk, and Pecos could hardly -wait to clasp him by the hand. It was a peculiar thing about Angevine -Thorne—the drunker he got the more his language improved, until in -the ecstasy of his intoxication, he often quoted Greek and Latin, or -words deemed by local wiseacres to be derived from those sources. -Drink also seemed to clarify his vision and give him an exalted sense -of truth, justice, and man's inhumanity to man. It had been his custom -in the past at this climacteric stage of inebriation to mount upon -some billiard table or other frangible piece of saloon furniture and -deliver temperance lectures until removed by the police. But times -had changed with Geronimo's champion booze-fighter and in his later -prepossessions he grappled with the mighty problem of wealth and its -relation to the common man. There are some hard sayings in the _Voice -of Reason_ against the privileged classes, but they are all nicely -considered in relation to the libel law, whereas Angy had no such -compunctions. Having spent all his money for drink and received a jail -sentence for life, the law had no further terrors for him and he turned -his eloquence loose. It was a wild rave when Pecos heard it, and grew -progressively more incoherent; but as he lay in his bunk and listened -to the familiar appeals a thought came to Pecos like an inspiration -from the gods—why not turn that stream of eloquence into profitable -channels and make Angy his advocate? There was not a voter in Geronimo -who did not know Babe Thorne and love him for his foolishness—the -life sentence which he suffered for conspicuous drunkenness was but a -token of their regard, placing him above the level of common ordinary -drunks even as his eloquence placed him above the maudlin orators with -whom the saloons were crowded. He was a character, a standing jest—and -Arizona loves a joke better than life itself. Above all, Angy was a -good fellow—he could jolly the district attorney and make him laugh! -They would win their case and then he would be free—free! Pecos could -not sleep from thinking of it and he begged Bill Todhunter, as a -special favor, to bring Babe in from the jag-cell at once. - -"What's the matter?" inquired Bill casually, "are you gettin' -interested in yore girl? I hear Old Crit has cut you out." - -"Crit be damned!" cried Pecos. "Have I ever asked you for anything -before? Well then, throw him in here, can't you?" - -The deputy did as he was bid and went away—he was not of a prying -disposition and Pecos had saved him a lot of trouble. There had never -been an alcalde like Pecos Dalhart. No, indeed—it would rustle them to -get one half as good when he went his way to Yuma. - -The conference with Angevine Thorne, attorney-at-law, was long, -and private, but as Angy sobered up he beheld greater and greater -possibilities in the matter; and when he went away he assured his -client that within the calendar month he should step forth a free -man—free as the prairie wind. He was confident of it, and upon his -departure Pecos gave him fifty dollars to use with José Garcia. Also he -was to find Old Funny-face, the mother of the calf, if it took the last -cow in the barn. But all was to be conducted quietly, very quietly, -for if Old Crit ever got wind of any defence he would frame up a case -to disprove it. To be sure, José Garcia was in debt several hundred -dollars to Isaac Crittenden—and afraid of his life, to boot—but for -fifty dollars cash Joe would swear to anything, even the truth; and if -by so doing he got Pecos out—why, there was a man who could protect him -against Crit and all his cowboys. It looked good to Angevine Thorne -and, as an especial inducement to Joe to stay put, he swore by all the -saints to have his life if he dared to go back on his agreement. Then, -very quietly, he instituted a search for Old Funny-face and, having -located her up the river with a tame bunch of cattle, he came away, -knowing full well that he could produce her at the proper time. There -would be a little surprise coming to Isaac Crittenden when he went to -court next week and, being actuated by no feeling of false delicacy in -dealing with such a reptile, Angy went back to work for him and watched -the conspiracy breed. - -It was a constant source of surprise to the transient public to observe -how a man with so many disagreeable qualities kept the same men -working for him year after year; but to those who knew Crittenden well -it was as natural as hunger and thirst. In fact, it was intimately -connected with hunger and thirst. Any time that Joe Garcia wanted to -quit he could just tell his wife and six children to stop eating, tie -his things in a handkerchief, and walk down the road. José was ruled by -hunger and the slavish peon spirit of a Mexican—Babe and the cowboys -were ruled by thirst. No matter how many times he had been fired or -quit, a man could always get a chance to work for nothing with Crit; -and so long as he spent all his money at the store Crittenden was even -willing to pay him good wages in the busy season. Babe was the easiest -mark he had as far as money was concerned, and, being so well educated -withal, the illiterate cowman found him almost indispensable as a -letter-writer and book-keeper. So far, so good—but why did Babe, with -his classical education, insist upon donating his services to a man -who treated him so despitefully? Ah, it was a hard question, but even -a vagrant likes to have some place, no matter how unlovely, which can -take the place of a home. Yet for the six long months that Pecos had -lain in jail Angy had had reason enough for staying—Marcelina needed -him, and she needed him bad. - -Every month seemed to add some new grace and beauty to the daughter -of José Garcia—the primitive beauty that seems to bud like a flower -beneath the Arizona sun; the beauty of the young Apache maiden and the -slender _Hija de Mejico_, that comes to its perfection so soon and is -doomed so often to fade away prematurely before the lust of men. In -another place Marcelina's face might have been her fortune, but at -Verde Crossing it was her bane. The cowboys lingered about the store to -gaze upon her boldly or stepped outside to intercept her on her way; -and Joe, poor tortoise-brained Joe, did not live up to his full duty -as a father. The _Texano_ cowboys were a fierce breed and impatient of -restraint—also they held a Mexican to be something below a snake. He -was afraid of them, though he rolled his fat eyes and frowned—but most -of all he feared Old Crit. Ah, there was a man to fear—Ol' Creet—and -he held him in his power, him and all his little flock. Day after day, -as the summer passed, the Boss kept after him, and but for his woman -he would have given way. How she did curse him, the _Señora_, his -_mujer_, and how she did curse Crit—but most of all she cursed their -poverty, which exposed her child to such a fate. Even the few _pesos_ -to send her to the school were lacking—Marcelina must stay at Verde -Crossing and fight against her fate. There was only one man who would -stand by them, and that was Babe. Only for the one time in six months -had Babe been drunk, and that was when Crit was away. He had left them -his pistols at parting and hurried back, after he had seen Pecos in -the jail. Yet after all it was worth the risk, for Babe had brought -back money—yes, money, fifty dollars in bills— and he offered it all -to José if he would stand up and tell the truth. What a coward—that -foolish José! For a week he weighed his manhood in the balance and was -afraid—and then Babe had given him two drinks, quick, and made him -promise, and given the money to his _mujer_. _Madre de Dios_, it was -accomplished, and the day that Crittenden and his cowboys rode away to -Geronimo to testify before the grand jury the Señora Garcia followed -far behind in the broken-down buggy, and when the town was dark she -drove in and left Marcelina at the Sisters' school. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE LAST CHANCE - - -There was a hot time in old Geronimo on the night that Ike Crittenden -and his cowboys rode in, and in spite of everything he could do three -of them wound up in the jag-cell before morning. Nevertheless he had -plenty of witnesses and to spare, for the grand jury merely went over -the same evidence that had been taken before the magistrate and handed -down an indictment against Pecos Dalhart, accusing him of feloniously -and unlawfully marking, branding, or altering the brand on one neat -animal, to wit, a spotted calf, belonging to Isaac Crittenden of -Verde Crossing. It was almost the first case on the calendar and the -arraignment was set for the following Monday. Then Pecos Dalhart, -defendant, slouched gloomily back to his cell and sat down to await -the issue. The howls of Angevine Thorne, blended with the hoarse -protests of Crit's cowboys, floated in to him from the jag-cell and he -knew his faithful attorney had not deserted him, but what a broken reed -was that to lean on when his whole future hung in the balance! Even as -he listened he had an uneasy fear that Angy was giving the whole snap -away to the drunken cowboys and once more he begged Bill Todhunter to -throw Babe into the tanks where he could look after him. It was at this -time, when things were at their worst, that Shepherd Kilkenny, the -district attorney, came down to look into his case and find out how he -would plead. - -He was a very cautious man, Mr. Kilkenny, and he never had a man -indicted unless he held his written confession or knew beyond the -peradventure of a doubt that he could convict him. In the case of Pecos -Dalhart he had been unusually careful, for it was the first case of -cattle stealing to come before him and most of his constituents were in -the cow business; therefore, not to take any chances, he had followed -it from the magistrate's court to the secret chambers of the grand -jury, and now he was going after a confession. He came with gifts, a -brace of cigars, but Pecos was well supplied with cigarette makings and -waved them courteously aside. Then they got down to business. - -"Mr. Dalhart," began Kilkenny, "I'm the district attorney and I've come -to talk over your case with you—in a friendly way, you understand. -Ah—have you engaged an attorney? No? Well, that is hardly necessary, -you know, but if you do call in a counsellor I am sure he will advise -you to plead 'Guilty.' Ahem—yes, indeed. There's many a man stole his -calf and got away with it, but you were caught in the act and observed -by twenty witnesses. Not the ghost of a chance, you see; but if you -plead 'Guilty' and throw yourself upon the mercy of the court it will -cut your sentence in half, probably more. I'm a friend of yours, Mr. -Dalhart, and I've often heard the sheriff speak of your exemplary -character as a prisoner. All these things are appreciated, you know, -and I—well, I'll do all I can for you with the judge. Now all you have -to do is to sign this little paper and—" - -"I'm sorry," said Pecos, thrusting the paper back, "and I sure take it -kindly of you, Mr. Kilkenny, but I can't plead 'Guilty'—not to please -nobody—because I'm _not_ guilty." - -"Not guilty!" The district attorney laughed. "Why, you were taken in -the act, Mr. Dalhart. I never saw a more conclusive line of evidence." - -"Well," grumbled Pecos, "if I was guilty I'd sure plead 'Guilty,' you -can bank on that. But this blankety-blank, Ike Crittenden, has jest -framed up a lot of evidence to railroad me to the pen—and them cowboys -of his would swear to anything for the drinks. You wouldn't soak a man -on evidence like that, would you, Mr. District Attorney?" - -"I'd soak him on any evidence I could get," responded the district -attorney succinctly. "You know my reputation, Mr. Dalhart— I convict -every man that pleads 'Not guilty'!" - -"But s'pose he isn't guilty!" cried Pecos. - -"I convict him anyway!" replied the district attorney. "Are you going -to sign this, or are you going ahead like a damned fool and get the -limit in Yuma?" - -"I won't sign it," said Pecos firmly. - -"Very well," responded Kilkenny, closing his little book with a snap. -He rose to his full height and pursed his lips ominously. "Very well, -Mr. Dalhart!" he said, nodding and blinking his eyes. "Very well, -sir!" Then he retired, leaving so much unsaid that it threw Pecos into -a panic. In a very real picture he could see himself sitting in the -shade of a big adobe wall and making State's-prison bridles for life. -He could see the guards pacing back and forth on top of the bastions -and Pete Monat holding one end of a horse-hair strand while he swung a -little trotter and twisted the loose hairs into the other end, forever -and forever. It was awful. The full sense of his impending doom rushed -in upon him and he laid hold of the sodden Babe who was maundering -about the revolution, and shook him frantically. - -"My God, Angy," he cried, "wake up and do something! Fergit about the -common people and do something for _me_! Fergit that you ever had any -principles and he'p me fight that low-lived dastard or I'll go to Yuma -for life!" - -"The voice of the people shall rule in the land!" pronounced Angy -oracularly. - -"To hell with the people!" yelled Pecos. "It's the People that's tryin' -to send me up! Do you want me to git twelve years for brandin' that -spotted calf? Well, wake up, then, and git yore wits to work!" - -Angy woke up, by degrees, but his wits would not work. The ecstasy -of intoxication was past and his mind was a legal blank for the -remainder of that day. The day was Friday, and Pecos had to plead on -Monday—"Guilty" or "Not guilty." "Guilty" meant six or eight years in -prison; "Not guilty" meant twelve years—or freedom. It was a gamble, -but he would risk it if Angy would remain sober enough to talk. His -only chance of freedom lay in his friend's misdirected eloquence, and -when Babe was entirely himself Pecos backed him up into a corner and -talked to him with tears in his voice. - -"Never, never, never—" began Angy, holding up his hand to swear; but -Pecos stopped him with a sign. - -"Nothing like that, Pardner," he said. "You been breakin' that pledge -for forty years. Jest look me in the eye now and promise me you won't -tech a drop until I'm free." - -"All right, Pecos," agreed Angy, "I'll do it, I won't touch a drop till -you're free." - -"And when I'm free," continued Pecos, "I'll stake you to a drunk from -which Geronimo will sure date time. Now let's git down to business." - -The details of that campaign against the People were talked over in -hushed secrecy and when on Monday morning Pecos appeared before the -stern judge to plead, Angevine Thorne stood just within the rail, -shuffling his worn hat nervously. - -"I will call the case of the People versus Pecos Dalhart," said the -judge. "Pecos Dalhart, to the charge of grand larceny do you plead -'Guilty' or 'Not guilty'?" - -"'Not guilty,' Your Honor!" responded Pecos. - -"The defendant enters a plea of 'Not guilty,'" observed the judge -impassively. "Are you represented by counsel, Mr. Dalhart?" - -"No, Your Honor," replied Pecos. - -"You understand, do you not, that in case you are unable to employ an -attorney the court will appoint one to advise you, free of charge?" - -"Yes, Your Honor," answered Pecos, "but if it's all the same to you I'd -rather not have a lawyer. I'd like to ask a favor, Judge, if you don't -mind. The reason I don't want an attorney appointed is that I know very -well none of these lawyers around here can stand up to the district -attorney when it comes to a case of law"—here Kilkenny smiled grimly to -himself and glanced at Mr. Baker of the _Blade_—"but at the same time, -Judge, I do want some one to speak for me, and I'm goin' to ask you to -appoint my friend Mr. Thorne, back there, as my counsellor." - -"Mr. Thorne?" inquired the judge, and as Angy stepped forward, smirking -and bowing, a slight smile broke up the fine legal lines on the -judicial brows. At no time was Angy over-fastidious about his attire, -and a night in jail, particularly in the jag-cell, is warranted to -spoil the appearance of the finest suit of clothes that was ever made. -Angy's clothes were old and worn; his shirt was greasy around the neck, -and his overalls, hanging loosely about his hips, piled up in slovenly -rolls above his shoe-tops; his hat, from much fanning of open fires, -was grimed with ashes and whitened with splashes of sour dough, and -his shiny bald head and red face told all too plainly the story of his -past. In the titter that followed his announcement he stood silent, -rolling his bloodshot eyes upon the audience, but as the grinning -bailiff smote the table for order he turned with the dignity of an -orator and addressed the judge. - -"Your Honor," he said, beginning the set speech which he had prepared, -"I am not unaware that this request on the part of the defendant is a -little irregular, but if the court please I should like to state the -reasons—" - -"Just a moment!" cut in the district attorney brusquely. "Your Honor, -I object to this man being appointed to the position of counsellor on -the ground that he is not a duly-licensed attorney and therefore not -competent to practise in this court." - -"As I am tendering my services without hope of compensation," -observed Angy suavely, "and also without submitting briefs or other -legal papers, I hope that the court will overlook this trifling -irregularity. The law referred to by the district attorney, as applied -to this case, was intended solely to protect the defendant in his -rights, the inference being that no one not a regularly practising -attorney is competent to adequately represent the defendant against -the learned district attorney"—Angy bowed to that gentleman—"but at -the same time, Your Honor, I wish to say that in days gone by I have -stood before the bar"—the bailiff struck his gavel to quiet the sudden -laughter—"I have stood before the bar of justice, Your Honor, and I -have stood there, sir, not as Angevine Thorne, the drunkard, but as a -regular practitioner in that court. I submit, Your Honor, that I am -fully qualified, both by past experience and present information, to -represent Mr. Dalhart in this unfortunate case!" - -A murmur of astonishment passed around the room at this revelation of -his past; for while Angevine Thorne had been about Geronimo, drunk and -sober, for over twenty years, he had never referred except in the -vaguest terms to the life which he had left behind. It struck wonder -into the breasts of the court-room bums, many of whom had shared -the jag-cell with him in times past, and Mr. Baker of the _Blade_ -sank down into a seat and began to write hurriedly upon his pad; but -Shepherd Kilkenny, with a sudden premonition of what Angy's "present -information" might lead to, did not yield himself to any such puny -emotion as surprise. He was a fighter, and a sure-thing fighter to boot. - -"Your Honor!" he cried, "I wish to protest most—" - -"Objection is overruled!" interposed the judge. "I see no reason why -Mr. Thorne should not conduct this case if the defendant so wishes, and -the clerk will enter him accordingly. Would Wednesday be too soon for -you to prepare your argument, Mr. Thorne? Is it satisfactory to you, -Mr. Kilkenny? Very well, then, I will set the case for Wednesday, the -eighth of October, at ten A. M. Call the next case, Mr. Bailiff!" - -The bailiff called it, still smiling, and in the pause half the -occupants of the court-room boiled out onto the court-house lawn and -gave vent to their pent-up emotions. Babe Thorne was going to buck -Kilkenny and plead a case in court! He would make an impassioned -appeal and raise Cain with Ike Crittenden's witnesses—it would be an -event never to be forgotten! Still laughing they scattered through -the town, and soon men came hurrying forth from the different saloons -to verify the report; they gathered in a crowd by the sheriff's -office and, as the word spread that it was true, gangs of cowboys and -men on livery-stable plugs went dashing down the streets, whooping -and laughing and crying the news to their friends. It was a new -excitement—something doing—and the way an Arizona town will take on -over some such trifling event is nothing short of scandalous. Within -two hours the leisure male population of Geronimo was divided into -two hostile camps—those who would get Babe drunk before the event -and those who would keep him sober and have him take a fall out of -Kilkenny. On the one side it was argued that, unless he was properly -ginned up, Babe would not do justice to the occasion; but cooler heads -won on the proposition that the judge would bar him if he got drunk -and hollered, and a committee of prominent citizens was organized to -protect him from himself. - -Being quick to see the news value of the incident the _Blade_ printed -an exclusive interview with Angevine Thorne—formerly of the Kentucky -bar—and announced that the trial would be covered in detail by "our -Mr. Baker." A series of Communications, written under pressure in the -card-rooms of various casinos, expressed the greatest indignation -at the "dastardly attempt of a certain interested party to debar -Mr. Thorne from the trial," and the hope that this exhibition of -professional jealousy would receive the rebuke it so richly deserved. -In an editorial the _Daily Blade_ spoke at some length of the rare -eloquence of "our gifted fellow-citizen, Colonel Thorne," and -felicitated Alcalde Dalhart upon the acumen he had shown in retaining -counsel. Everything goes, in a case like that, and the _Blade_ played -it up to the limit. - -As night came on a select circle of visitors gathered at the county -jail to witness the kangaroo trial of two more of Crit's cowboys who -had unwittingly placed themselves in the power of Pecos Dalhart. The -summary punishment of the first three—the ones who had occupied the -jag-cell with Angevine Thorne—had been heralded far and wide as an -example of poetic justice, but the grim humor of this last arraignment -set the town in an uproar. Within two days these same booze-fighting -cowboys would appear against him in the upper court, but of that event -Pecos Dalhart took no thought and he kangarooed them to a finish. It -was good business, as the actors say, and won him many a friend, for -Arizona loves a sport—but after they had been spread-eagled over a -chair and received twenty blows for contempt of court, the cowboys -were ready to take their oath to anything. That was it—Pecos might -win the hearts of the people and still go down before the law and the -evidence. Only two things cheered him on—Angy and Bill Todhunter had -gone up the river for Old Funny-face, and Joe Garcia was in town. After -Crit had sworn himself into perdition over the calf they would spring -Funny-face on him—Mexican brands and all—and show that he was a liar. -Then José Garcia would testify to the sale of Funny-face and her calf -and the rest would go off in a canter. It was a pleasing dream, and -Pecos indulged it to the full, for it was the only hope he had. But the -next morning he was nervous. - -It was the day before his trial and even his six months in jail had -not taught him to be patient. As soon as the cells were unlocked he -began to pace up and down the corridor like a caged lion, scowling and -muttering to himself. To the stray visitors who dropped in he was -distant but civil, as befits a man who must act his part, but all the -time a growing uneasiness was gnawing at his heart and he looked past -them to the outer door. Hours dragged by and his uneasiness changed -into despair; he hurled himself upon his bunk and was lying with his -haggard face to the bars when the jail deputy entered and gazed in upon -him curiously. - -"They's a lady out here to see you," he whispered, laying his finger -along his nose with an air of roguish secrecy, "shall I bring her in? -She's got something she wants to give you!" - -A vision of the unbalanced females who had been bringing flowers to a -murderer came over Pecos and he debated swiftly with himself whether to -accept this last humiliation or plead a sudden indisposition. - -"She's been waiting around all the morning," continued the deputy. -"Kinder shy, I reckon—shall I bring 'er in? She's a Mex!" - -A Mex! The word shocked Pecos like a blow; it made him glad, and then -it made him angry. - -"Well, what's the matter with a Mex?" he demanded sharply. "Ain't a -Mexican got no rights in this dam' jail? I guess she's as good as any -white woman—show her in!" - -He waited in palpitating silence, and when the soft rustle of skirts -sounded down the corridor his heart stopped beating entirely. Then -Marcelina pressed her face against the screened bars and gazed -wistfully into the darkened cell. She had grown taller since he last -saw her and her dark eyes had taken on a look of infinite melancholy; -the rare promise of her youth had flowered suddenly in his absence and -she stood before him a woman. Often in his dreams he had thought of -her, but always as the black-eyed girl, saucy and fugitive as a bird, -who had bewitched him with her childish graces; now she peered in at -him through the prison bars with the eyes of a woman who has suffered -and found her soul. For a moment she gazed into the darkness, -and then she drew back involuntarily. The Pecos she had known was a -grown-up boy, grim and quick in speech but full of the reckless fire of -youth; a dashing cowboy, guiding his horse by a touch of the hand and -riding, riding, always. Here was a hard-faced man, pale and bowed by -confinement, and his eyes were like a starved animal's. She started and -bit her lip. - -"Are you Paycos?" she asked timidly. - -The bitterness of his fate swept over Pecos at the words—he looked down -at his crumpled clothes, his outworn boots, and faded shirt and rumbled -in his throat. - -"No, Marcelina," he said, "I'm only a caged wolf—a coyote that the -vaqueros have roped and tied and fastened to a tree. I'm a hard-looker, -all right—how'd you come to find me?" - -[Illustration: She laid a brown hand against the bars as if in protest -and motioned him nearer the screen] - -She laid a brown hand against the bars as if in protest and motioned -him nearer the screen. - -"I have only been in town four days," she said hurriedly. "All summer -I was shut up at Verde, and Ol' Creet—ah, that bad, ba-ad man! My -mother took me to school the day he come to Geronimo. I am 'fraid, -Paycos—but this morning I run away to see you. The seesters will be -hunt for me now. Look Paycos"—she thrust her hand into the bosom -of her dress and drew forth a small bundle, wrapped in a blue silk -handkerchief—"_Cuidado_, be careful," she whispered; "when I keess you -good-bye at the door I weel put thees een your hand—_ssst!_" She turned -and looked up the corridor where the deputy was doing the Sherlock. -He was a new man—the jail deputy—just helping out during the session -of the court and correspondingly impressed with his own importance. -Nothing larger than a darning-needle could be passed through the heavy -iron screen, but all the same he kept his eye on them, and when he saw -the quick thrust of her hand all the suspicions of the amateur sleuth -rushed over him at once. - -"Hey! What's that?" he demanded, striding down the run-around. "What -you got hid there, eh?" He ogled Marcelina threateningly as he stood -over her and she shrank before his glance like a school-girl. "Come, -now," he blustered, "show me what that is or I'll take it away from -you. We don't allow anything to be passed in to the prisoners!" - -"She can't pass nothin' through here!" interposed Pecos, tapping on the -screen. "You haven't got nothin', have you, Marcelina?" - -"Well, I saw her hide something blue in her dress just now," persisted -the jailer, "and I want to see it, that's all!" - -"It was—it was only a handkerchief!" sobbed Marcelina, clutching at -her breast. "No, no! Eet is mine—he—he geev it to me! You can not—" -she choked, and backed swiftly toward the door. Like a panther Pecos -whipped out of his cell and sprang against the corridor grating, but -she was gone. The deputy made a futile grab as she darted away from -him and sprang after her, but she swung the great door in his face and -sped like a deer down the hall. The next moment she was gone, leaving -Pecos and the deputy to have it out together. - -"Aha!" cried the deputy vengefully, "you will try to smuggle things in, -will you? I'll report this matter to Mr. Morgan at once!" - -"Well, report it, then, you low-flung hound!" wailed Pecos, "report -it, and be damned to you! But if I was outside these bars I'd beat you -to death for this!" They raged up and down the grating, snarling at -each other like dogs that fight through a lattice, and even when Boone -Morgan came and called them down Pecos would not be appeased. - -"He scairt my girl away!" he cried, scowling menacingly at the raw -deputy. "She come to give me a handkerchief and he jumped at her. I'll -fix him, the dastard, if ever I git a chance!" And so he raged and -stormed until they went away and left him, mystified. To Boone Morgan -it seemed as if his alcalde was raising a row out of all proportion to -his grievance, but that was because Pecos could not explain his woes. -Marcelina had promised to kiss him good-bye, and the damned deputy had -intervened! - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE LAW AND THE EVIDENCE - - -As the rising sun poured its flood of glorious light into the -court-house square and the janitor, according to his custom, threw -open the court-room doors to sweep, there was a scuffling of eager -feet from without and the swift-moving pageantry of the Dalhart -trial began. A trio of bums who had passed the night _al fresco_ on -the park benches hustled past the astounded caretaker and bestowed -themselves luxuriously on the front seats. As the saloons opened up and -discharged their over-night guests others of the brotherhood drifted -in and occupied the seats behind, and by the time the solid citizens -of Geronimo had taken care of their stock, snatched their breakfasts, -and hurried to the scene there was standing room only in the teeming -chamber of justice. Only the special venire of jurymen took their time -in the matter and the sweating bailiff had to pass them in through -the side door in order to get them seated inside the railing. At -nine-thirty Boone Morgan brought in the defendant, freshly shaven and -with his hair plastered down across his forehead, and sat with him near -the jail door. It was all in the line of duty, but there were those -who remarked that it was right clever of old Boone to throw in that -way with his jail alcalde. Some people would have put the nippers on -him for the cow-thief that he was, and chained him to a deputy. Behind -them, the cynosure of all eyes, sat the counsel for the defendant, -Angevine Thorne, his round baby face illuminated with the light of a -great resolve. On that day he was going to save his friend from prison -or climb spider-webs in the attempt. A hush fell over the assembly -as the hour of trial drew near and only the gaunt figure of Shepherd -Kilkenny, pacing up and down before the empty jury-box, suggested the -battle that was to come. The rest was as pathetic as the Angelus. - -The soft morning breeze breathed in through the windows and as Pecos -glimpsed the row of horses tied to the hitching rack he filled his -lungs deep with the sweet air, and sighed. The invalid who has been -confined to his room longs vaguely for the open air, but to the strong -man of action, shut up for months in a close cell, the outer world -seems like a dream of paradise and he sees a new heaven in the skies. -In the tense silence of waiting the tragedy in his face afflicted the -morbid crowd and made them uneasy; they shifted their eyes to the -stern, fighting visage of the district attorney and listened hopefully -for the clock. It struck, slowly and with measured pauses, and as the -last stroke sounded through the hall the black curtain behind the bench -parted and the judge stepped into court. Then instantly the sheriff's -gavel came down upon the table; the People rose before the person of -the Law, and in sonorous tones Boone Morgan repeated the ancient -formula for the calling of the court. - -"_Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!_ The District Court of Geronimo County is now in -session!" - -The judge threw off his robes and sat down and as the audience sank -back into their crowded seats he cast one swift, judicial glance at the -defendant, the clerk, and the district attorney and called the case -of Pecos Dalhart, charged with the crime of grand larceny. With the -smoothness of well-worn machinery the ponderous wheels of justice began -to turn, never halting, never faltering, until the forms prescribed -by law had been observed. One after the other, the clerk called the -names of the forty talesmen, writing each name on a slip of paper as -the owner answered "Here"; then at a word from the judge he placed the -slips in a box and shook out twelve names upon the table. As his name -was called and spelled each talesman rose from his seat and shambled -over to the jury-box, turning his solemn face from the crowd. They -held up their right hands and swore to answer truthfully all questions -relative to their qualifications as jurors, and sat down to listen -to the charges; then, after reading the information upon which the -accusations were based, the district attorney glanced shrewdly at the -counsel for defendant and called the first juryman. The battle had -begun. - -The first talesman was a tall, raw-boned individual with cowman written -all over him, and the district attorney was careful not to ask his -occupation. He wanted a jury of twelve cowmen, no less; and, knowing -every man in the venire either by sight or reputation, he laid himself -out to get it. - -"Mr. Rambo," he began, "do you know the defendant in this case?" He -indicated Pecos Dalhart with a contemptuous wave of the hand, and Mr. -Rambo said he did not. "Know anything about this case?" - -"Only what I read in the papers," responded the cowman dryly. - -"You don't believe everything you read, do you, Mr. Rambo? If you were -passed for a juror you wouldn't let anything you have read influence -your mind, if it was proven that the defendant was guilty, would you?" - -"No, sir!" - -"If I should prove to your satisfaction that the defendant -here"—another contemptuous wave of the hand—"had wilfully and -feloniously stolen and branded the animal in question, what would your -verdict be—'Guilty' or 'Not guilty'?" - -"W'y—er—'Guilty'!" - -"Pass the juror!" snapped the district attorney, and then he looked at -the counsel for the defendant as if imploring him not to waste any of -the court's valuable time. - -"Mr. Rambo," began Angy, singing the words in a child-like, embarrassed -manner, "you are engaged in the business of raising cattle, are you -not?" - -The district attorney winced at this, but Angevine Thorne did not take -advantage of his discovery. He also wanted a jury of twelve cowmen, -though he did not show his hand. - -"Very good," he observed, "and I suppose, Mr. Rambo, that you are -acquainted with the law in this case which makes it a felony for any -man to mark or brand the stock of another man? Very good. Have you any -prejudice against that law, Mr. Rambo? You believe that it should be -enforced impartially, do you not—against the rich as well as the poor? -Very good. Pass the juror!" - -For a moment Shepherd Kilkenny could hardly believe his ears. The drift -of every one of the questions had led naturally up to a challenge and -yet at the end Angy had passed the juror. He glanced quickly at the -innocent face of his opponent, opened his mouth to speak, and then -hurried on with his examination. The second man was interested in the -cattle business, too; and when Angy passed him the judge felt called -upon to speak. - -"You know, do you not, Mr. Thorne," he said, "that it is your -privilege to excuse any juror whose occupation or condition of mind -might indicate a prejudice against your client?" - -"Yes, indeed, Your Honor," replied Mr. Thorne, suavely, "but I have -perfect confidence in the integrity of the two gentlemen just passed. I -feel sure that they will do full justice to Mr. Dalhart." - -"Very well, then," said His Honor, "let the examination proceed!" - -With all the address of a good tactician who sees that his opponent -has mistaken a two-spot for an ace, Shepherd Kilkenny flew at his -task, but each time that Angy passed one of his cowmen he paused just -the fraction of a second, glanced apprehensively about the room, and -rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The defence was playing right into his -hand, but he didn't know whether he liked it or not. When it came to -the peremptory challenges he excused two health-seekers and a mining -man, but Thorne did not challenge a man. Once more the clerk shook -the names out of his box and within half an hour the district attorney -had the very jury he wanted—every man of them interested in the cattle -business and ready to cinch a rustler as they would kill a rattlesnake. -It seemed almost too good to be true. Even the staid judge was -concerned, for he had a sober sense of justice and Angy's appointment -had been slightly irregular; but after a long look at that individual -he motioned for the trial to proceed. The evidence was all against the -defendant anyway, and he could cut off a year or two on the sentence to -make amends. - -"Swear the jurors!" he said, and holding up their rope-scarred hands -and looking coldly across the room at the alleged rustler, the twelve -cowmen swore to abide by the law and the evidence and a true verdict -find. Then the district attorney pulled his notes from his hip-pocket -as a man might draw a deadly weapon and began his opening statement to -the jury. - -"Your Honor and gentlemen of the jury," he said, "in the case of the -People of the Territory of Arizona _versus_ Pecos Dalhart, we shall -show that on or about the eighth day of May the said Pecos Dalhart did -wilfully, feloniously, and unlawfully pursue, rope, and brand a calf, -said calf being the property of Isaac Crittenden of Verde Crossing, -Territory of Arizona; that the said Pecos Dalhart was arrested and, -upon being taken before a magistrate, he did plead 'Not guilty' and was -held for the grand jury, which handed down an indictment against him; -that upon being arraigned before the judge he did plead 'Not guilty' -and was remanded for trial upon the crime charged in the indictment, -to wit:—that he did feloniously and unlawfully mark, brand, or alter -the brand on a neat animal, to wit, one red-and-white spotted calf, -said calf being the property of Isaac Crittenden, of Verde Crossing, -Territory of Arizona, contrary to the form, force, and effect of the -statute in such case made and provided and against the peace and -dignity of the People of the Territory of Arizona. Mr. Crittenden, will -you please take the stand!" - -All the other witnesses had been relegated to the jury-room, where -they would be beyond the sound of the court, but being the complaining -witness Isaac Crittenden was entitled to remain and he sat just behind -the district attorney, fumbling with the high collar that galled his -scrawny neck and rolling his evil eye upon the assemblage. As he rose -up from his place and mounted the witness stand a rumble of comment -passed through the hall and the sheriff struck his gavel sharply for -order. - -"Swear the witness, Mr. Clerk," directed the judge, and raising his -right hand in the air Isaac Crittenden rose and faced the court, -looking a trifle anxious and apprehensive, as befits one who is about -to swear to a lie. Also, not being used to actions in court, he -entertained certain illusions as to the sanctity of an oath, illusions -which were, however, speedily banished by the professional disrespect -of the clerk. Reaching down under the table for a penholder which -he had dropped and holding one hand weakly above his head he recited -with parrot-like rapidity the wearisome formula of the oath:—"Do you -solemnly swear that the evidence you are about to give in the case of -the People _versus_ Pecos Dalhart shall be the truth, the whole truth, -and nothing but the truth, s'elpyougod?" - -Crittenden blinked his good eye and sat down. There was nothing very -impressive about the proceeding, but all the same he was liable for -perjury. - -"Calling your attention to the eighth day of May, of the present -year, where were you on that day, Mr. Crittenden?" It was the first -gun in the real engagement and the surging crowd about the doors quit -scrouging for a view and poised their heads to listen. The voice of the -district attorney was very quiet and reassuring, and Isaac Crittenden, -taking his cue, answered with the glib readiness of a previous -understanding. - -"I was gathering cattle with my cowboys near my ranch at Verde -Crossing." - -"And upon returning to your home did you encounter any one in the deep -_arroyo_ which lies above your ranch?" - -"Yes, sir," responded Crittenden, "I come across Pecos Dalhart." - -"Is this the gentleman to whom you refer?" inquired Kilkenny, pointing -an accusing thumb toward Pecos. "Very good, then—you identify the -defendant. Now, Mr. Crittenden, what was the defendant doing at that -time?" - -"He had a spotted calf of mine strung out by a little fire and was -alterin' the brand with a runnin' iron." Old Crit's eye wandered -instinctively to Pecos Dalhart as he spoke and gleamed with a hidden -fire, but his face was as expressionless as a death mask. - -"I offer the following animal in evidence," said the district attorney, -beckoning toward the side door. "Bring in the exhibit!" And as Bill -Todhunter appeared, sheepishly leading the spotted calf, which had -been boarded all summer in town, he threw out his hand dramatically and -hissed: - -"Do you identify this animal? Is that the calf?" - -"I do!" responded Crit. "It is the same animal!" - -"That's all!" announced Kilkenny, and with a grin of triumph he -summoned the hawk-eyed jurymen to inspect the brand. There it was, -written on the spotted side of the calf, in ineffaceable lines—the -plain record of Pecos Dalhart's crime, burned with his own hands. -Across the older scar of Isaac Crittenden's brand there ran a -fresh-burnt bar, and below the barred Spectacle was a Monkey-wrench, -seared in the tender hide. To a health-seeker or a mining man the -significance of those marks might be hidden, but the twelve cowmen -on the jury read it like a book. Only one thing gave them a passing -uneasiness—Crit's Spectacle brand was very evidently devised to burn -over Pecos Dalhart's Monkey-wrench, but that was beside the point. -They were there to decide whether Pecos Dalhart had stolen that -particular spotted calf, and the markings said that he did. By that -broad bar which ran through the pair of Spectacles he deprived Isaac -Crittenden of its ownership, and by the Monkey-wrench burned below he -took it for his own. All right then,—they retired to their seats and -Angevine Thorne took the witness. - -They faced each other for a minute—the man who had committed a crime -and covered it, and the man who had sworn to expose his guilt—and began -their fencing warily. - -"Mr. Crittenden," purred Angy, "you are in the cattle business, are you -not? Yes, indeed; and about how many cattle have you running on your -range?" - -"I don't know!" answered Crittenden gruffly. - -"At the last time you paid your taxes you were assessed for about ten -thousand, were you not? Quite correct; I have the statement of the -assessor here to verify it. Now, Mr. Crittenden, kindly tell the jury -what per cent of those cattle are calves?" - -"I don't know," replied Crit. - -"No?" said Angy, with assumed surprise. "Well then, I hope the court -will excuse me for presuming to tell a cowman about cows but the -percentage of calves on an ordinary range is between fifty and sixty -per cent. So, according to that you have on your range between five and -six thousand calves, have you not? Very good. And now, Mr. Crittenden, -speaking roughly, about how many of your cattle are solid color?" - -"I don't know!" scowled Crit. - -"You don't know," repeated Angy gravely. "Very good. I wish the -court to note that Mr. Crittenden is a very poor observer. Now, Mr. -Crittenden, you have stated that you do not know how many cattle you -have; nor how many of said cattle are calves; nor how many of said -calves are solid color or spotted. Will you kindly inform the court, -then, how you know that the calf which has been produced in evidence -is yours?" - -"Well—" said Crittenden, and then he stopped. The one thing which he -was afraid of in this trial was about to happen—Angy was going to -corner him on the maternity of the calf, and that would make him out a -cow-thief. The district attorney scowled at him to go ahead and then, -in order to cover up the failure, he leapt to his feet and cried: - -"Your Honor, I object to the line of questioning on the ground that it -is irrelevant, incompetent, and immaterial!" - -"If the court please," spoke up Angevine Thorne, "the witness has -positively identified the calf in question as his own, although it is -a matter of record that he possesses four or five thousand calves, all -of which have been born within the past year and over half of which are -spotted. It is the purpose of the defence to prove that this calf does -not belong to the witness; that it was the property of Pecos Dalhart -at the time the alleged crime was committed, _and that it had been -previously stolen by Isaac Crittenden_!" - -As he shouted these words Angy pointed an accusing finger at Old Crit, -who started back like a man who had been struck, and while the clamor -of deputies and bailiffs filled the court-room they stood there like -the figures in a tableau, glaring at each other with inextinguishable -hatred. - -"Order in the court! Order in the court!" cried the bailiffs, beating -back the crowd, and when the assembly had been quieted the judge -motioned to Angy to proceed. - -"Objection is overruled," he said, and bent his dark brows upon Isaac -Crittenden. "Let the witness answer the question." - -"Well, the calf had my brand on it," responded Crittenden defiantly, -and then, egged on by Angy's sarcastic smile, he went a step too far. -"Yes, and I know him, too!" he blurted out. "I'd know that calf among a -thousand, by them spots across his face." - -"Oh, you would, would you?" spoke up Angy quickly. "You have a -distinct recollection of the animal on account of its peculiar markings -then; is that right? Very good. When did you put your brand on that -calf, Mr. Crittenden?" - -"Last Spring," replied Crittenden grudgingly. - -"You know the law regarding the branding of calves," prompted Angy. -"Was the calf with its mother at the time?" - -"It was!" - -"And did she bear the same brand that you burned upon her calf?" - -"She did!" - -"Any other brands?" - -"Nope!" - -"Raised her yourself, did you?" - -"_Yes!_" shouted Crittenden angrily. - -"That's all!" said Angy briefly, and Isaac Crittenden sank back into -his chair, dazed at the very unexpectedness of his escape. It was a -perilous line of questioning that his former roustabout had taken up, -leading close to the stealing of Upton's cattle and the seizing of -Pecos Dalhart's herd, but at the very moment when he might have sprung -the mine Angy had withheld his hand. The gaunt cowman tottered to his -seat in a smother of perspiration, and Shepherd Kilkenny, after a -moment's consideration, decided to make his hand good by calling a host -of witnesses. - -They came into court, one after the other, the hard-faced gun-men that -Crittenden kept about his place, and with the unblinking assurance of -men who gamble even with life itself they swore to the stereotyped -facts, while Angy said never a word. - -"The People rest!" announced the district attorney at last, and lay -back smiling in his chair to see what his opponent would spring. - -"Your Honor and gentlemen of the jury," began Angevine Thorne, speaking -with the easy confidence of a barrister, "the prosecution has gone -to great lengths to prove that Pecos Dalhart branded this calf. The -defence freely admits that act, but denies all felonious intent. We -will show you, gentlemen of the jury, that at the time he branded the -animal it was by law and right his own, and that during his absence it -had been feloniously and unlawfully branded into the Spectacle brand by -the complaining witness, Isaac Crittenden. Mr. Dalhart, will you please -take the stand!" - -Awkward and shamefaced in the presence of the multitude and painfully -conscious of his jail clothes, Pecos mounted to the stand and turned -to face his inquisitor. They had rehearsed the scene before—for -Babe Thorne was not altogether ignorant of a lawyer's wiles—and his -examination went off as smoothly as Kilkenny's examination of Crit, -down to the point where Pecos was rudely pounced upon and roped while -he was branding his spotted calf. Then it was that Angevine Thorne's -voice began to ring like a trumpet, and as he came to the crucial -question the audience stood motionless to listen. - -"Now, Mr. Dalhart," he clarioned, "you say that you purposely barred -the Spectacle brand upon this calf and burned your own brand, which -was a Monkey-wrench, below it? What was your reason for that act?" - -"My reason was that the calf was mine!" cried Pecos, rising angrily to -his feet. "When I first come to Verde Crossing I bought an old spotted -cow and her calf from José Garcia and branded them with a Monkey-wrench -on the ribs—I kept her around my camp for a milk cow. That first calf -growed up and she was jest comin' in with another one when I went to -New Mexico last Fall. Well, when I came back last Spring I hadn't got -into town yet when I come across my old milk cow with her ears all -chopped up and her brand burned over and this little calf, lookin' jest -like her, with a Spectacle brand burned on his ribs. That made me mad -and I was jest ventin' the calf back to a Monkey-wrench when Crittenden -and his cowboys jumped in and roped me!" - -"You say that you bought the mother of this calf from José Garcia?" - -"Yes, sir! I paid him twenty-five dollars for the cow and five dollars -for the first calf." - -"What were the brand and markings of this cow at the time you bought -her?" - -"She had a Mexican brand, like an Injun arrer struck by lightning, on -her left hip, a big window or _ventano_ in the left ear, and a slash -and underbit in the right. Garcia vented his brand on her shoulder and -I run a Monkey-wrench—that's my regular, registered brand—on her ribs, -but I never changed her ear marks because I kept her for a milk cow -anyway." - -"Your Honor," interposed Kilkenny, rising with a bored air to his -feet, "I object to this testimony on the ground that it is irrelevant, -incompetent, and immaterial. I fail to see the relation of this -hypothetical milk cow to the question before the court." - -"The cow in question was the mother of the calf which my client is -accused of stealing!" cried Angy, panting with excitement as he saw -the moment of his triumph approaching. "She was sold to the defendant -and he had a legal right to her offspring. Can a man steal his own -property, Your Honor? Most assuredly not! I wish to produce that cow in -evidence and I will bring competent witnesses to prove that she belongs -by rights to Pecos Dalhart. Bring in the exhibit, Mr. Todhunter!" - -He waved his hand toward the side door and as Kilkenny saw the _coup_ -which had been sprung on him he burst into a storm of protest. "I -object, Your Honor!" he shouted, "I object!" - -"Objection overruled!" pronounced the judge. "Let the cow be brought in -as quickly as possible and after the examination of the exhibit we will -proceed at once to the argument." - -He paused, and as the crowd that blocked the side door gave way before -the bailiffs, Old Funny-face was dragged unwillingly into court and -led to the sand boat to join her calf. At the first sight of her -dun-colored face and spotted neck every man in the jury-box looked at -his neighbor knowingly. They were cowmen, every one of them used to -picking out mothers by hair-marks in the corral cut, and Old Funny-face -was a dead ringer for her calf. Even to the red blotch across his dun -face the calf was the same, and when Funny-face indignantly repulsed -its advances they were not deceived, for a cow soon forgets her -offspring, once it is taken away. But most of all their trained eyes -dwelt upon the mangled ears, the deep swallow fork in the left and the -short crop in the right, and the record of the brands on her side. -There was the broken arrow, just as Pecos had described it, and the -vent mark on the shoulder. It would take some pretty stiff swearing -to make them believe that that Spectacle brand on her ribs had not -been burnt over a Monkey-wrench. It was Angy's inning now, and with a -flourish he called Pecos to the stand and had him identify his cow; but -when he called José Garcia, and José, gazing trustfully into Angy's -eyes, testified that she was his old milk cow and he had, _sin duda_, -sold her to Pecos Dalhart for twenty-five dollars, the self-composed -Kilkenny began to rave with questions, while Crittenden broke into a -cold sweat. Not only was the case going against him, but it threatened -to leave him in the toils. It was too late to stop Garcia now—he had -said his say and gone into a sullen silence—there was nothing for it -but to swear, and swear hard. Kilkenny was on his toes, swinging his -clenched fist into the hollow of his hand and raging at the witness, -when Crittenden suddenly dragged him down by the coat-tails and began -to whisper into his ear. Instantly the district attorney was all -attention; he asked a question, and then another; nodded, and addressed -the court. - -"Your Honor," he said, "I will excuse the witness and ask to call -others in rebuttal. Will you take the chair, Mr. Crittenden!" - -Old Crit advanced to the stand and faced the court-room, a savage gleam -in his eye. - -"Do you recognize this cow, Mr. Crittenden?" inquired Kilkenny mildly. - -"Yes, sir, I know her well. She's an old gentle cow that's been hangin' -around my corral for years. I took her from Joe Garcia, last Spring, -for some money he was owin' me." - -"What?" yelled Angy, springing up from his chair, "do you mean to say—" - -"I object, Your Honor!" clamored Kilkenny desperately. "I object! The -witness is mine!" - -"The People's witness," ruled the judge; "let the examination proceed." - -"Is this cow the mother of the calf in question—do you identify her as -the mother of this calf?" - -"I do!" repeated Crittenden solemnly. "And you can summon any of my -cowboys—they'll swear to her." - -"Take the witness!" said Kilkenny, leering at Angevine Thorne, and in -spite of all Angy could do Crit stuck to his story, word for word. One -after the other his cowboys took the chair, glanced at their boss, and -identified the cow and calf. Kilkenny had won, and before Babe Thorne -could collect his wits he plunged into his closing argument. - -"Gentlemen of the jury," he cried, "the people of Geronimo County are -looking to you to-day to vindicate justice in the courts. It is the -shame of Geronimo County—spoken against her by all the world—that not -a single cattle-thief has ever been convicted in her courts. Men have -been tried; their guilt has been demonstrated to a moral certainty; but -the evidence has been insufficient, and they have escaped. Gentlemen -of the jury, a year and a half ago the defendant in this case came to -Geronimo County without a cent; he went to work for Mr. Crittenden, who -kindly took him in; but within a few months, gentlemen of the jury, -Pecos Dalhart left the service of his benefactor and moved to Lost Dog -Cañon. Six months later, gentlemen, when the sheriff at the risk of his -life rode into his guilty hiding-place, Mr. Dalhart had _two hundred -head of cattle_ shut up in a secret pasture! _Two—hundred—head_, -gentlemen; and he defied the sheriff of this county _to even collect -the taxes_ upon those cattle! Gentlemen of the jury, I ask you, Where -did this man get those two hundred head of cattle? Did he bring them -with him? No, for the evidence shows that he rode in alone. Did he buy -them? No, for he had no money. Gentlemen of the jury, that man who sits -before you _stole_ those cattle, and he does not dare to deny it!" - -He paused and looked about the court-room, and a great hush came upon -the entire assembly. Every man in the crowded standing room stood -silent and the surge of those without the doorway died down in a tremor -of craning heads. Kilkenny had won—but he had not finished. Point by -point he went over the chain of his evidence, testing every link to -prove that it was true, and then in a final outburst of frenzy he drove -the last point home. - -"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, in closing, "the defendant stands -before you, convicted by his own words. He acknowledges that he -branded the calf; he acknowledges that he set at defiance all law -and justice and robbed the man who had befriended him—and what is -his defence? That Isaac Crittenden had robbed him of his cow! Isaac -Crittenden, who has cattle on a thousand hills! A man known, and -favorably known, in this community for twenty years! Gentlemen, I ask -of you, whose word will you take in this matter? The word of this -self-confessed cattle-rustler and his Mexican consort or the word of -Isaac Crittenden of Verde Crossing? Gentlemen of the jury, it has -been the shame of Geronimo County for many years that this practice -of rustling cattle has never received its fitting rebuke. It has been -the shame of Arizona that the rights of the cattle men, the men who -dared the Indians and braved the desert and made this country what -it is, have never been protected. You have seen what this negligence -has brought to our near neighbor, Tonto County—a cattle war in -which over fifty men have given up their lives; a beautiful cattle -country, devastated of all its flocks and herds. It has brought death, -gentlemen, and destruction of property, and—_bankruptcy_! Gentlemen, I -ask you for a verdict of 'Guilty'!" - -He sat down, and Angevine Thorne rose to his feet, bewildered. The -speech which he had prepared to save his friend was forgotten; the -appeals which he could have made were dead. He gazed about the court -and read in every eye the word that was still ringing in his ears: -"Guilty!" And yet he knew that Pecos was not guilty. Cattle he had -stolen, yes—but not the cattle in court. They, of all the animals he -had owned, had been honestly acquired; but Old Crit had sworn him into -prison. It was right, perhaps, but it was not Law—and it was the law -that held him. As he looked at the forbidding faces before him, each -one hard and set by the false words of Crit and Shepherd Kilkenny, the -monstrous injustice of the thing rushed over him and he opened his -lips to speak. It was a conspiracy—a hellish combination of lawyers -and the men they served, to beat the poor man down. The old rage for -the revolution, the rage which he had put so resolutely from his -heart, rushed back and choked him; he scowled at the sneering district -attorney and Old Crit, humped over in his chair; and turned to the -glowering audience, searching with the orator's instinct for a single -friendly face. But there was none; every man was against him—every one! -He raised his hand to heaven—and stopped. There was a struggle in the -doorway—a bailiff, tall and burly, was thrusting back a young girl who -struggled to get free—and then like a flash of light Babe Thorne saw -her face, the wild-eyed, piteous face of Marcelina! - -"Here!" he commanded, leaping upon a chair and pointing with an -imperious hand. "Let that girl in! Your Honor, I demand that that girl -be let in! This trial is her trial, Your Honor—she is Marcelina Garcia, -my friend's affianced bride!" In that single moment he saw it—the -last desperate chance to save his friend—a sentimental appeal to the -jury! How many men have been saved from prison and gallows and the -just punishment of their crimes by such a ruse! Given the aged mother, -the despairing wife, the sweetheart, clinging to his hand, and all the -thunderings of Jove will fail of conviction. The law and the evidence -are nothing; Reason is dethroned and Justice tips her scales to send -the prisoner free. With a surly frown the bailiff let go his hold and -like a hunted creature that flees from the memory of her pursuers -Marcelina ran panting down the aisle and threw herself at the feet of -the just judge. - -"Oh, Meester," she cried, holding up her hands, "do not send Paycos to -preeson! Look, here are the ears of Old Funny-face, his cow, what Ol' -Creet stole while he was gone! Paycos did not steal the cow—no, no! He -buy heem from my papa, and this is _mi padre's_ mark!" She unwound the -blue silk handkerchief that encased them and thrust into the hands of -the astounded judge—_two ears!_ With eager glances she held them up—the -keys which Old Crit had cut from Funny-face's ears on the day that he -stole Pecos's herd—and thrust her brown finger through the Mexican -_ventano_. Then, impatient of her English, she snatched them back and, -scampering back to where Old Funny-face still stood on the sand boat, -she fitted the crop and swallow-fork back into the mangled ears. - -"Look! Look!" she cried, "these are the dried-up ears what Ol' Creet -cut from my Paycos's cow, that day when he stole his cattle. My leetle -brothers bring them from the corral to play with and I hide them, to -show to Paycos. Meester, he is bad man, that Creet! He—he—" - -She faltered and started back. There before her, humped over in his -chair, sat Isaac Crittenden, and his one eye covered her like the evil -glare of a rattlesnake. - -"_Santa Maria!_" she gasped. "_Madre de Dios! Creet!_" And with a -scared sob she turned and ran to Babe. It was an affecting scene, but -Babe did not overdo it. - -"Your Honor," he said, speaking over her bowed head with portentous -calm, "I wish to offer these two ears in evidence as an exhibit in -this case. One of them, you will notice, is cut in a swallow-fork and -exhibits, above, the _ventano_ which defendant testified belonged to -the mother of this calf; the other is cropped short and exhibits the -slash and Mexican _anzuelo_; both of them show the peculiar red and -white spots which gave to the cow in question the name of Funny-face. -After the jury has inspected the exhibit I will ask that Marcelina -Garcia be sworn." - -It was not a long speech and had nothing of dramatic appeal; and yet -as it came out, this was Angevine Thorne's closing speech. When he saw -how the pendulum had swung, Shepherd Kilkenny, the fighting district -attorney, went into a black, frowning silence and refused to speak -to Old Crit; but as the judge began his instructions to the jury -he suddenly roused up and beckoned to Boone Morgan. They whispered -together while the law was being read and then the sheriff went over -and spoke a few words to Pecos Dalhart. - -"Sure!" nodded Pecos, and at the signal Shepherd Kilkenny rose quickly -to his feet. - -"Your Honor," he said, bowing apologetically to the judge, "in -consideration of the evidence which has just been introduced I wish to -withdraw my former request to the jury, and I now ask for a verdict -of 'Not guilty.'" He sat down, and a hum went up from the crowded -court-room like the zooning of swarming bees. There was something -coming—something tremendous—that they all knew; and when the verdict -was given not a man moved from his place. Then Boone Morgan rose up -from beside the district attorney and touched Isaac Crittenden on the -shoulder. There was nothing rough about it, and Crittenden followed -without a word, but the significance was plain. The man who had sworn -others into prison had done as much for himself, and it would take -a Philadelphia lawyer to turn him loose. He had sworn that the cow -was his, and the ear keys showed that he lied. Swallow-fork and crop, -and Mexican marks above, and Old Funny-face, wagging her mangled ears -in court! There had never been a cow-thief convicted in the Geronimo -courts, and Old Crit would spend every cent he had to keep out of jail, -but if Shepherd Kilkenny could not get him on evidence like that, then -tyranny is dead and the devil has lost his claws. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -NEVER AGAIN - - -The District Court of Geronimo County broke up like a stampede of -cattle when Ike Crittenden was placed under arrest, and in the general -scramble Angevine Thorne was seized by a band of determined men and -rushed to the Big Adobe bar. The committee on public entertainment had -set their hearts on a speech, and they would not be denied. Meanwhile -Pecos Dalhart was borne off as inexorably in the other direction by -Boone Morgan and Shepherd Kilkenny, and not until he had sworn to the -complaint and testified against Old Crit before the J. P. would they -let him go his way. First on the programme which he had mapped out for -himself was a big feed at Hung Wo's restaurant, and Charley Hung Wo -was so happy over his release that he refused to accept a cent. That -was right friendly of Charley and shows what a good fellow a Chink can -be—give him a chance. It cheered Pecos up, and after he had got a new -outfit of clothes all around and scoured the jail smell out of his skin -he began to feel like a white man again. The hot sunshine felt good -on his cheek, the wind smelled sweet, and he liked the clump of board -sidewalks beneath his feet; but at the same time he was lonely. Somehow -he did not seem to fit into this great outer world any more—there was -no place to go and nothing to do; that is, nothing but throw in with -Babe Thorne and get drunk, and even that had its disadvantages. - -Lighting a cigar and wandering down the street Pecos pondered upon the -matter and finally decided to hunt up Angy and see if anything could be -done. Taking advantage of the general preoccupation he managed to fight -his way through the crowded portals of the Big Adobe Saloon unobserved -and there, surrounded by the heaving multitude, he stopped to listen. A -committee of citizens had just presented Colonel Thorne with the keys -of the town, appended to which as a further token of regard was a drink -check on the Big Adobe—good for life. Mr. Thorne had evidently taken a -few of the drinks already and mellowed to the mood of his admirers; for -when Pecos arrived he was midway in a flamboyant speech of declination. - -"No, gentlemen," he was saying, "much as I appreciate the honor -conferred upon me by your kind invitation, I can never accept the -nomination for such an office. What, shall men say in times to come -that Angevine Thorne, after freeing his friend from the clutches of -the law, turned traitor to the common people and became the district -attorney? Never! Nay, if I were prosecuting attorney I would prosecute -the judge and the jury, the rich corporations and cattle kings, and -all who make the law a scourge for the poor and lowly. Never, never, -never, shall the word go forth—" - -That was enough for Pecos—he saw that he was not needed. True, he had -promised Angy a drink from which Geronimo should date time, but the -citizens' committee had taken all that off his hands. Pulling his -hat down over his eyes he struggled out into the deserted street and -looked around like a lost dog—then with a sigh he turned and made his -way back to the jail. It was the only home he had now. On one shoulder -he bore a box of apples—a last gift for the boys inside—and as he -stepped in through the sliding doors and saw them come swarming out -from their cells to greet him he regarded them almost with affection. -For six months he had been alcalde in that jail, laying down the law -with fist and strap, and now he must resign. As his sheriff attended -to the distribution of the fruit Pecos stepped into his little cell, -shoved the worn Bible into his pocket and got his strap; then, after -a hurried word with Boone Morgan through the bars, he mounted on the -alcalde's chair and addressed them. - -"Boys," he said, "luck come my way and I'm goin' to leave you. You'll -have to have a new alcalde now and I only ask one thing before I go. -They're goin' to throw a big, tall, hump-backed dastard in here pretty -soon. He's only got one eye, but he's got lots of money and I want -you to kangaroo him to the limit, and give him _this_ for contempt of -court!" He raised the broad strap in the air. "Will you do it?" he -yelled, and when they answered with a roar he hurled it into their -midst. - -"All right then; fight for it, you tarriers!" he shouted, "_and the one -that gits it is alcalde_!" - -They fought, and when it was over Pecos Dalhart stepped out of jail, a -free man. It is a fine thing to be free, but freedom carries with it -certain obligations, one of which is to keep out of jail. Pecos glanced -into the jag-cell in passing and decided not to get drunk, at any -rate. Then he went down to the office with Boone Morgan. - -"Well, Pecos," said that genial official, shaking out a bunch of keys, -"you might as well take your property envelope and what money you got -left—unless you expect to be back soon," he hinted. "By the way, what -you goin' to do after you sober up?" - -"Well, I dunno," said Pecos, scratching his head. "I could go back up -on the Verde, now Old Crit's in jail, and burn them Spectacle cows he -stole off of me back into a Hock-sign—two bars and another circle would -make a three-ball sign, all right—but I've quit that line of business. -Look at Crit!" - -"Oh!" grunted the sheriff, "think you'll quit rustlin', eh? But say, -how come you ain't drunk already? I had a little business I wanted to -talk over with you, but I thought I'd better wait till you blew off." - -"Nope, no more booze for me!" declared Pecos virtuously. "You fellers -never git me in _here_ no more. You come so dam' near sendin' me to -Yuma for somethin' I never done that I'm goin' to be mighty careful -what I _do_!" He paused and gazed sombrely out of the window and a new -courage—the courage of clean clothes and freedom—drew him on to speak. -"This is a hell of a thing you call the law," he observed, "now ain't -it? How much of a show does a poor man git in your courts with Shepherd -Kilkenny ravin' for his life? I'm goin' to git on a good horse and -ride, and ride, and ride, until I git away from that dastard; that's -what I'm goin' to do!" - -The sheriff had laid out the familiar property envelope and was -twirling the combination of his safe, but at this last outburst he -stopped short. - -"You'll do nothing of the kind," he said shortly. "I been tryin' for -two years to get Ike Crittenden for stealing cows, and I want you to -stay in Geronimo County until we get him _cinched_! Are you goin' to do -it?" - -For an instant Pecos met his eye defiantly; then the memory of other -cows that he _had_ stolen rose up in his mind and he nodded his head. - -"Sure!" he said, "I'll be your star witness." - -"All right then," grumbled the sheriff, turning morosely away from his -safe, "but bein' as you seem to be making medicine against the law -again I jest want to ask you a few questions. You say the law is a hell -of a thing—and it is; I admit it. And the poor man don't have no show -against it—that's a fact, too. But here's what I want to know—what you -goin' to do about it? How long do you think it will take to change -the law so a poor man will have an even break with a rich one, the -way things are goin'? 'Bout a thousand years, hey? Well, I call that -conservative. But say, do you expect to live that long? No? Think you -can hurry it up any by buckin' against the law? Well, what you goin' to -do about it—spend your time in jail?" - -"Well, it ain't right," muttered Pecos, "that's all I got to say. Jest -look at your dam' law!" he cried, the memory of his wrongs getting the -better of him; "look at _me_! Kep' six months in jail before I could -git a trial—d' you call that right?" - -"Nope," said Boone Morgan calmly, "but what you goin' to do about it? -I mean _you_, now! D' you think you can mend matters any by gettin' -thrown into jail? I got my eye on you, and that's just where you'll -land. Sure, the law is rotten, but what you goin' to _do_ about it?" - -The coldblooded insistence of the man jangled on Pecos's nerves and -made him pass it back. - -"Well, what _can_ a feller do?" he demanded savagely. - -"Keep out of trouble—don't break the law—that's all!" rumbled the -sheriff, fixing him with his masterful eyes. He turned slowly back to -the combination of his safe, twirling the tumblers while the wisdom of -his words went home; then he threw open the door, drew out a large -official envelope, and balanced it in his hand. "Well," he challenged, -looking Pecos in the eye, "ain't that right?" - -Pecos pondered upon it a minute longer, much as he had studied on -Crit's proposition that it is no crime to rob a thief, and right there -the cause of the revolution lost another fervent disciple. - -"By God, Boone," he said, "I believe you're right!" - -"W'y, of course I'm right!" cried Morgan, slapping him jovially on the -back; "and there's a thousand dollars to prove it!" - -He tore open the official envelope and thrust a sheaf of bills into the -astonished cowboy's hands. - -"Money talks," he observed sententiously, "only there're some people -have such a roarin' in the ears they can't hear it. This roll of -velvet is what's left from the tax sale of those Monkey-wrench cows I -seized, and it says that you are a capitalist, with all the errors and -prejudices of your class. Just put that into cows now, and look after -'em, and you'll forget all about the revolution." - -"Hell's fire!" ejaculated Pecos, shutting down on the money. "You don't -mean to say this is all mine?" - -"That's right. I tried to give it to you last Fall, up there at Verde -Crossing, but you heard the wind in your ears, clean to New Mexico. -Guess your conscience was kind of troublin' you, hey?" - -"Umm," answered Pecos absently. He was studying on how to spend his -money. For several minutes he sat thumbing over the new bills and -gazing out into the twilight; then he jammed them deep into his pocket -and started for the door. - -"Hey! Where you goin'?" shouted Boone Morgan, as he clattered down the -steps. "Come back here and get this property envelope! You must've had -an idee," he ventured, as Pecos reappeared. - -"Yep," said Pecos, "an' a good one." He dumped the contents of his -envelope on top of the desk and regarded the articles fixedly. There, -sparkling brightly as when he first bought it, was the eighteen-carat, -solitaire-diamond engagement-ring. - -"That ought to come in pretty handy now," suggested the sheriff, -pointing to it with the butt of his cigar. - -"Nope," replied Pecos noncommittally, "too late now." - -"That's bad," commented Boone Morgan sociably. "Mighty pretty girl, -too. All off, hey?" - -Pecos looked him over carefully, grunted, and started for the door. - -It would be difficult to tell just how it happened so, but as Pecos -Dalhart, with a firm resolve in his heart, dashed down the steps once -more, his eye caught a darker shadow in the dusky corner of the jail -and he stopped dead in his tracks. Then as his vision became adjusted -to the twilight he walked slowly over toward the corner, where a -woman's figure was crouched against the wall. It was Marcelina, worn, -draggled, and tear-stained, and as she gazed up at him from beneath her -tangled hair his heart stopped in its beat. - -"Ah, Paycos," she murmured brokenly, "where can I go? The seesters -lock me up in hi-igh room, for run away to see you. Two day I cry -_todo-tiempo_ because you no have ears—then I jump out of window to -breeng them. Now I can not go home. An', Paycos," she rose up suddenly -and moved toward him, "I am 'fraid! I am 'fraid Ol' Creet will catch -me!" - -"Crit nothin'!" said Pecos scornfully. "Come on over here—what's the -matter with you?" He gathered her into his arms and held her close a -minute. - -"You ain't scairt now, are you?" he inquired tenderly. - -"A-ah, no!" sighed Marcelina, nestling against his breast. - -"Well, gimme that kiss, then," said Pecos. - -There were no wedding bells at Pecos Dalhart's marriage—that takes too -much time—but the county clerk gave him a license right away, Boone -Morgan went along for a witness, and the J. P. did the rest. It was -the same J. P. who had held Pecos for cattle-rustling, but what of -that? Upon such an occasion the past is forgotten and we care little -what hand it is that confers our greatest happiness. Pecos pressed a -ten-dollar bill into the guilt-stained palm of the magistrate and then, -while his roll was out, he peeled off another bill and handed it to -Boone Morgan. - -"Give that to Angy when he comes to," he said, "and tell 'im to hunt -me up. Don't know where we'll live yet, but it wouldn't be like home -without old Babe—would it, Marcelina?" - -"Ah, Paycos," breathed Marcelina, gazing up at him with adoring eyes, -"you are such a _goo-ood_ man!" - -The rustler glanced doubtfully over his shoulder at Boone Morgan, -grinned, and passed out into the starlit night. - -"All right, Chiquita," he said. "You got a monopoly on that idee—but -whatever you say, goes!" - - - - - +-------------------------------------------------------------------+ - | | - | Transcriber's note: | - | | - | Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. | - | | - | Word combinations that appeared with and without hyphens were | - | changed to the predominant form if it could be determined, or to | - | the hyphenated form if it could not. | - | | - | Mid-paragraph illustrations have been moved between paragraphs | - | and some illustrations have been moved closer to the text that | - | references them. The paginations in the list of Illustrations | - | were adjusted accordingly. | - | | - | Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant | - | form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. | - | | - | Corrections in the spelling of names were made when those could | - | be verified. Otherwise the variations were left as they were. | - | | - | Other corrections: | - | Page 51: slahsh changed to slash. | - | Page 71: ailes changed to bailes (open house day and night, | - | _fistas_ and _bailes_). | - | Page 284: plead changed to pled (the petty criminals pled guilty).| - | | - | Variation unchanged: | - | Joe Garcia and José Garcia. | - +-------------------------------------------------------------------+ - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEXICAN*** - - -******* This file should be named 50387-0.txt or 50387-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/0/3/8/50387 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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