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diff --git a/old/52289-h/52289-h.htm b/old/52289-h/52289-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 5089c1c..0000000 --- a/old/52289-h/52289-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12134 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - A Vendetta of the Hills, by Willis George Emerson - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52289 ***</div> - - <h1> - A VENDETTA OF THE HILLS - </h1> - <h2> - By Willis George Emerson - </h2> - <h4> - Author of “The Treasure of Hidden Valley,” “Buell Hampton,” “The - Builders,” etc. - </h4> - <h3> - Illustrated by A. Hutchins - </h3> - <h5> - Boston: The Chappie Publishing Company, Ltd. - </h5> - <h3> - 1917 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0006.jpg" alt="0006 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0006.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <h3> - TO MY WIFE - </h3> - <h3> - BONNIE O’NEAL EMERSON - </h3> - <p> - Our enchanting years of pleasure, dear, are speeding all too fast, - </p> - <p> - As our ever-fleeting joys become blest mem’ries of the past. - </p> - <p> - Heaven’s blessings, glad and golden, strew with bliss the paths of life - </p> - <p> - When a sweetheart, fond and cheery, - </p> - <p> - Has her “hubby” for her dearie, - </p> - <p> - And her “hubby” has a sweetheart for his wife. - </p> - <p> - —The Author. - </p> - <p> - January 18, 1917. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—Guadalupe </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—Charmed Lives </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—Feminine Attractions </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—Back to the Soil </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—At La Siesta </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—The Quarrel </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—Old Bandit Days </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—A Letter from San Quentin </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—Tia Teresa </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—The Home of the Recluse </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—A Rejected Suitor </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—The Sped Bullet </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—Accused </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—Entanglements </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—Behind the Bars </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—Pierre Luzon Returns </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—The Bitter Bit </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—Elusive Riches </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX—The Jail Delivery </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX—In the Cavern </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI—A Debt of Honor </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII—Underqround Wonders </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII—The Unexpected Visitor </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV—In a Tight Corner </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV—Love and Revenge </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI—A Date is Fixed </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII—Among the Old Oaks </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII—The Prize Winner </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX—-The Rendezvous </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX—Don Manuel Appears </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI—Shadows of the Past </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII—Forebodings </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII—Old Friends </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV—Heart Searchings </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV—At Comanche Point </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI—-Outwitted </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII—The Dawn of Comprehension - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII—Exit Leach Sharkey </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX—The Fight on the Cliff </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL—Revelation </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI—Beneath the Precipice </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII—Wedding Bells </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I—Guadalupe - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was a June - morning in mid-California. The sun was just rising over the rim of the - horizon, dissipating the purple haze of dawn and bathing in golden - sunshine a great valley spread out like a parchment scroll. It was a rural - scene of magnificent grandeur—encircling mountains, rolling - foothills, and then the vast expanse of plain dotted here and there with - clumps of trees and clothed with luxuriant grasses. - </p> - <p> - Thousands of cattle were bestirring themselves from their slumbers—some - sniffing the air and bellowing lowly, others paving the earth in an - indifferent way, and all moving slowly toward one or other of the mountain - streams that wound serpent-like through the valley, as if they deemed it - proper to begin the day with a morning libation. - </p> - <p> - To the south, commanding a narrow pass that pierced the Tehachapi mountain - range, stood old Fort Tejon, dismantled now and partly in ruins, - picturesque if no longer formidable—a romantic relic of old frontier - fighting days. In the foreground of the crumbling adobe walls, sheltered - under giant oaks, was a trading store and postoffice combined. - </p> - <p> - Within this building half a dozen men were in earnest conversation, - swapping yarns even at that early hour. Perhaps they, too, like the - cattle, had felt the call for their “morning’s morning.” - </p> - <p> - A young army officer, Lieutenant Chester Munson, was telling of a rough - experience he had had a few days before with a mountain lion in one of the - near-by rugged canyons. - </p> - <p> - The story was interrupted by a sound of galloping hoofs. - </p> - <p> - “Here’s Dick Willoughby,” someone announced. - </p> - <p> - The rider brought his mustang to a panting stop, threw the bridle rein - over its head, and, leaping lightly from his saddle, entered the store. - </p> - <p> - Dick Willoughby was a tall, athletic, square-jawed, grey-eyed young fellow - who looked determinedly purposeful. He was originally an architect from - New York City, but during the last five years had become an adopted son of - the West—had made the sacrifice, or rather gone through the - improving metamorphosis, of assimilation. - </p> - <p> - “Good morning, Ches, old boy,” he shouted to the lieutenant. - </p> - <p> - The latter returned the salutation with a friendly nod. - </p> - <p> - “The camp was lonely without you last night, Dick,” he said. “Who is the - fair senorita that keeps you away?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s all right,” replied Willoughby, smiling. “I will tell you later.” - Then after a genial allround greeting for the others present, he eagerly - exclaimed: “Boys, she is coming.” - </p> - <p> - “What! Guadalupe?” shouted everyone in chorus of surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Guadalupe is headed this way. I spied her on the mountain trail an - hour ago, and thanks to my field glasses, was able to determine the moving - speck was none other than the old squaw herself. She is just beyond yon - clump of trees and will be here shortly.” - </p> - <p> - “I am wonderin’ if she’s got her apron filled again with them there gold - nuggets,” remarked Tom Baker inquiringly, while a smile flitted over his - grey-bearded countenance. “That squaw is a regular free-gold placer - proposition.” - </p> - <p> - “She would have been held up before now in the old days, eh, sheriff?” - laughed one of the cowboys. Tom Baker had been sheriff for a long term of - years in early times, and, although no longer in office, the title had - still clung to him. - </p> - <p> - “By gad!” exclaimed Jack Rover, another cowboy, and a gentlemanly young - fellow in manner and appearance. “She’s not going to get back to her - hiding-place this time, nor to that will-o’-the-wisp placer gold mine of - hers unless she shows me.” - </p> - <p> - “That will do for you,” said Dick Willoughby with an admonishing look. - “Don’t you forget that Guadalupe, although an old Indian squaw, is also a - human being. There is going to be no violence if I can prevent it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” laughed Jack, pushing his hat back as if to acknowledge that he - had been checkmated, “you’re my boss on the cattle ranch, and I’ll have to - take your tip, I guess.” - </p> - <p> - “I say, Dick,” asked the other cowboy, “did you see anything of the white - wolf?” - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean the real wolf?” interjected Jack Rover, “or the bandit, Don - Manuel?” - </p> - <p> - Willoughby was looking along the road and took no notice. - </p> - <p> - “I guess both are real,” mused Tom Baker, grimly smiling, and a general - laugh followed. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I for one will subscribe to that,” exclaimed Buck Ashley, - storekeeper, postmaster, bartender, and all-round <i>generalissimo</i> of - the trading establishment. “If Don Manuel is not a wolf in human form, and - a bigger outlaw than Joaquin Murietta ever thought of being, why you may - take my head for a football.” - </p> - <p> - “But he’s dead, ain’t he?” asked the cowboy who had introduced the subject - of the white wolf. - </p> - <p> - “Just one thing that I want to emphasize good and plenty to you fellers,” - said Tom Baker, “and that is—” - </p> - <p> - “Here she comes!” interrupted Dick Willoughby. - </p> - <p> - A hush fell over the group as the bent, aged figure of an Indian woman was - seen approaching the store. Her features were hidden by a shawl that - closely muffled her head and shoulders. - </p> - <p> - Buck Ashley saluted Guadalupe with a “How?” The squaw answered with the - same abrupt salutation, shuffled up to the counter and said brokenly, - “Coffee—sugar—tea—rice.” With her left hand she had - gathered up the lower portion of her calico apron and held it pouch - fashion. She thrust her right hand into the pocket so formed, and bringing - forth a handful of gold nuggets, laid them on the counter. Some were the - size of peas, and others as large as hulled hickory nuts. Not a word was - spoken by the onlookers, who were wild-eyed in their astonishment. Soon - interest rose to high tension. - </p> - <p> - Buck Ashley tied up a large package of sugar and pushed it toward the bent - form of his customer; then resting his hand on the counter, he looked - fixedly at the squaw and said, “More gold.” - </p> - <p> - Again she thrust her hand into the apron pocket and brought out another - handful of nuggets, whereupon Ashley proceeded to tie up a large package - of coffee. This done, he repeated the request for more gold. Old Guadalupe - added another handful of nuggets to those already on the counter, and - Ashley tied up a package of rice. - </p> - <p> - The squaw looked up at the storekeeper for a moment and then said, “Tea.” - </p> - <p> - Buck Ashley’s laconic response was “More gold,” and immediately another - handful of nuggets was brought forth, whereupon a fourth package was - deposited on the counter. - </p> - <p> - Old Guadalupe stowed the parcels in her apron on top of any remaining gold - nuggets she might have brought. Then she turned and walked limpingly away, - through the low brushwood toward a little grove of gnarled and twisted - sycamores close to the ruined fort. - </p> - <p> - When she had gone Buck Ashley observed, “No use following her—not a - damn bit of use in the world! She’ll make camp out there under the trees - until some time tonight, and then vanish like a shadow into the dark.” - </p> - <p> - While speaking, Ashley had been gathering up the gold. - </p> - <p> - “I say, Buck,” observed Dick Willoughby, winking at his friend Lieutenant - Munson, “it is my private opinion that that bandit, the White Wolf, has - nothing on you.” - </p> - <p> - Tom Baker laughingly chimed in: “If I am any judge, and I allow as how I - am, Buck here would make that pound-of-flesh Shylock feller look like - thirty cents Mex.” - </p> - <p> - Ashley smiled greedily, but in a satisfied way, as he said with unruffled - calm: “Guess I’d better weigh them nuggets and see how much the old - squaw’s groceries cost her.” - </p> - <p> - “The treacherous Indian and the honest paleface,” laughed Dick Willoughby - in a half-rebuking tone. - </p> - <p> - Buck Ashley bridled up. His voice rang with deep feeling. - </p> - <p> - “Boys,” he said, “you think I’m a Shylock, a robber, a devil I expect, and - everything that’s bad. I don’t talk much about myself, but just so you’ll - not think too blamed hard of me, I’ll ask you a question. Supposen when - you was only about fifteen years old, you stood by, tied hand and foot, - and saw a lot of redskins scalp and kill your father and mother and two - little sisters, and then rob your dead father of over ten thousand dollars - in gold, run off the family stock, and take you to their camp to burn at - the stake as a sort of incidental diversion at one of their pow-wow - dances; and supposen you performed a miracle and got away and took an oath - to kill and rob every derned Indian you might see throughout the remaining - days of your life—what, then, if I reformed and gave up the kilin’ - and stuck to robbin’, would you blame me?” - </p> - <p> - During this tragic recital of his wrongs the old storekeeper had become - noticeably excited. - </p> - <p> - Dick Willoughby got up from the cracker-box where he had been resting, and - advancing with hand extended, said: “Buck, what you have told us presents - the whole matter in a new light. Shake!” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks,” replied the storekeeper as he turned away to wipe a mist from - his eyes. - </p> - <p> - Then quickly facing about, he called out in his usual gruff, hale and - hearty manner: “Say, boys, what’ll you all have? This round is on the - house.” They drank in silence. A fragment of Buck Ashley’s history had - cleared away a good deal of previous misunderstanding. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II—Charmed Lives - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE spell of - restraint that resulted from Buck Ashley’s story was at last broken by the - cowboy, Jack Rover. - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Dick,” he exclaimed, “I’ll give a month’s salary if you will - let me take a chance and follow old Guadalupe. I’ve simply got to find out - and locate that sand-bar in some mountain stream from which she brings in - all this gold. This is the third time I’ve seen our friend Buck Ashley - collect a grocery bill from the old squaw, and the whole business, gold - nuggets and all, is getting on my nerves. Why, I dreamed about it for a - week last time I saw her forking out whole handfuls of gold.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” replied Willoughby, “if you want to take the chance, Jack, go - ahead. But it is a mad project which will end in my expressing your - remains back East or else planting you in the cemetery on the hill. It’s - up to you to make your choice before you tackle the job. You certainly - know what happened to four or five others who attempted to follow the old - squaw. Each mother’s son of them was buried the next day.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that’s ancient history,” Jack retorted. - </p> - <p> - “Not such very ancient hist’ry,” remarked Tom Baker. “I myself saw young - Bill McNab drilled through the heart with a bullet that seemed to come - from nowhere. After that I’ll allow I wasn’t filled up with too much - curiosity as to where Guadalupe hiked over the mountains.” - </p> - <p> - “There was a regular sharp-shootin’ outfit,” concurred Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “And there wasn’t a sheriff in the country would have led a posse into - that damned ambush,” Tom went on. “There wasn’t a sportin’ chance along - that narrow ledge round which Guadalupe always disappeared. And with all - them outlaws in the mountains!” - </p> - <p> - “But the outlaws have been wiped out years ago,” persisted Jack Rover. - </p> - <p> - “Mebbe,” said Tom Baker, sententiously. - </p> - <p> - “You forget the White Wolf,” added Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “Which white wolf?” asked Jack. “I put that question before but got no - answer.” - </p> - <p> - “Both,” replied Tom. “To begin with I don’t believe that Don Manuel is - dead at all. That was only a newspaper story. You may take it from me that - the bandit won’t pass in his checks till he gets old Ben Thurston. I’m - allowin’ as how Ben Thurston would quick enough give a thousand head of - his fattest beeves just to rest easy in his mind on that score. He’ll find - out, sure enough, some day.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, when the White Wolf finds him,” interjected the storekeeper with a - terse emphasis. - </p> - <p> - “What’s that old feud anyway?” queried Lieutenant Munson. “Tell me, Tom.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it is an old story,” the sheriff answered. “I thought everybody knew - about it, but of course you’re a newcomer. Well, you see,” he continued, - clearing his throat and expectorating a copious and accurately aimed - pit-tew of tobacco juice toward a knot-hole in the floor, “the White - Wolf’s father, Don Antonio de Valencia, a reg’lar high-toned grandee from - Spain, had settled in these here parts away back longer than anyone could - remember. He claimed this whole stretch of country from horizon to - horizon. Then came the Americans, among them a government surveyor named - Thurston. He had a pull at Washington and managed to get a legal grant to - the San Antonio property. Of course the old Spaniard had no real title—his - was just a sort of squatter’s claim. But they do say as how he had lived - in this here valley more than half a century, so it was mighty hard luck - to lose the land. And the boy Manuel never would admit the Thurstons had - any right to call it theirs.” - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel had a younger sister,” interposed Buck Ashley. “Rosetta, a - beautiful girl—looked like a morning-glory. Gad! but she sure had a - purty face. You remember, Tom, don’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” replied Tom Baker, “it’s not likely I should forget the poor - girl. It was ‘cause of her the quarrel became a bitter blood feud—the - Vendetta of the Hills, as we got to calling it. You see,” he went on, - resuming the thread of his story, “old man Thurston’s son, Ben, the - present owner of the rancho, was in his younger days a gay Lothario scamp, - and he came from the East to his new home in California loaded down with a - college education and a mighty intimate knowledge of the ways of the world - that decent folks don’t talk about, much less practice. He had not been - here a month until he commenced makin’ love to little Senorita Rosetta. - Before the second sheep-shearin’ time came around, she was—well, in - a delicate condition. To save himself and, as he thought, cover up the - disgrace—you see he was engaged to a rich Eastern girl of prominent - family—why, the young scoundrel conceived the hellish plot of lurin’ - little Rosetta to Comanche Point one dark night. And when he got her there - he threw her over the cliff—at least that’s the way the story goes. - Guess Don Manuel was about twenty-five years old at that time, and Ben - Thurston two or three years his junior. Well, the disgrace killed - Rosetta’s father and mother. They died of grief and shame soon after the - affair, almost on the same day, and Don Manuel buried them together in the - old churchyard on the hill by the side of his murdered sister. And it was - there and then, they say, that he took an oath to kill Ben Thurston. That - was mor’n thirty years ago and the feud has been on ever since, and all us - old-timers know hell will be poppin’ ‘round here one of these days.” - </p> - <p> - “But nobody ever sees the White Wolf, Don Manuel,” added Buck Ashley. - “That’s the ex-tr’ornery part of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you yourself are likely to see him one of these dark nights, Buck,” - laughed Jack Rover, as he winked at the other boys. “A storekeeper that’ll - work night and day stacking up money year in and year out is liable to - have a call sooner or later from the bandit and his friends.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, hell!” was the laconic response of Buck Ashley. “Guess I sure can - take care of myself.” - </p> - <p> - “But Don Manuel may not be alive,” suggested the young lieutenant. - </p> - <p> - “He’s alive right enough, make no mistake,” said Tom Baker, “although I’ll - allow I don’t know a single soul who has actually seen him personally for - more’n twenty years. He is a kind o’ shadowy cuss. Everybody knows him by - his old-time deeds of high-way robbin’ and all-round murderin’ for golden - loot. I heard of a feller last year who claims to have seen the White Wolf - when he was makin’ that last big stage delivery over by Tulare Lake. He - was masked, and had all the passengers out on the roadside with their - hands thrown up over their heads while he was takin’ their valuables away - from them.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s a dead cinch,” Buck Ashley observed, “that whenever there was a - hold-up or a robbery, or a murder in cold blood for money, why everybody - knew that the White Wolf was again in the hills and playin’ his cut-throat - game for pelf and plunder, or mebbe just for revenge against the gringos, - whom he hated like hell. Sometimes he was not heard of in these parts for - two or three years, and then he showed up more blood-thirsty than ever. - His hand was agin every man, and it looked like as every man’s hand was - agin him.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve been told,” said Dick Willoughby, “that when the White Wolf was a - boy he saved the life of the old highwayman, Joaquin Murietta.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, them are facts,” replied Tom Baker. “Leastways I’ve heard say so. - They claim that he saved Murietta’s life from a posse of deputies one - night, and altho’ the White Wolf was only a boy at that time, yet a heap - of people think he’s the only livin’ soul who knows the whereabouts and - location of the secret cavern where Joaquin Murietta planted his loot, - amountin’, they say, to millions of dollars in gold and jewels and - valuables of all kinds. The retreat always proved a safe one for the - murderin’ gang, and now they’re gone no one even to this day can find the - place. It’s somewhere on San Antonio Rancho, but where? The White Wolf - kept his secret well.” - </p> - <p> - “If old Pierre Luzon ever gets out of San Quentin,” remarked the - storekeeper, “I guess he could tell, but he’s up for life. He was nabbed - in that same Tulare Lake affair ‘bout which Tom had been talkin’.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the sheriff, “two others were shot dead before they got back - to the mountains. The White Wolf and Pierre were ridin’ alone when the - Frenchie’s horse stumbled. They picked him up insensible, a broken leg and - concussion of the brain, and he was the only one of the gang who ever went - to jail.” - </p> - <p> - “God ‘lmighty,” exclaimed Buck, “old Pierre used to sit around in this - here store day after day, smokin’ an old foreign-lookin’ pipe, and hardly - speakin’ a word. He used to pretend he knew no English. We never once - suspected that he was one of Don Manuel’s bunch—always thought of - him as an old sheepherder, a bit off his nut, who had saved a few dollars - and was takin’ things easy. And hell, all the time he was the White Wolf’s - look-out man, makin’ note of everything and passin’ the word o’ warnin’ - when there was talk of the sheriff gettin’ busy.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll allow Pierre Luzon fooled me proper,” concurred Tom Baker. “However, - he got what was cornin’ to him all right, a life sentence, though he ought - to have been hanged. Well, perhaps it is only the White Wolf and Pierre - Luzon who now know the cave where Joaquin Murietta cached his treasure.” - </p> - <p> - “And Guadalupe perhaps as well,” remarked Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, perhaps Guadalupe also,” assented the sheriff. “But the White Wolf - keeps guard over her.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s the real White Wolf this time,” laughed - </p> - <p> - Dick Willoughby, with a nod toward the young lieutenant, who had been - listening intently to the tale of weird romance. - </p> - <p> - “The real White Wolf?” replied Munson, enquiringly. “You’ve got me all - tangled up. What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you know how Don Manuel came by his name of the White Wolf?” asked - the sheriff. - </p> - <p> - “No, all this folk lore is new to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, gosh all hemlock! He is named because of a darn big white wolf that - has been seen at different times in this here country for a hundred - years.” - </p> - <p> - “Wolves don’t live so long,” protested the lieutenant incredulously. - </p> - <p> - “Well, this one does,” retorted Tom, curtly. “Leastwise he’s been seen - from time to time since ever I can remember. In the old days they named - the White Wolf Rancho after this monster animal. It has a charmed life. No - one can kill this big fellow, altho’ lots of shots have been fired at him. - And the same was true of Don Manuel de Valencia. He escaped so often that - folks believed his life a charmed one. And so they called him the White - Wolf.” - </p> - <p> - “I saw the white wolf once myself,” said Buck Ashley, “the real white wolf - that even now, as Tom says, guards old Guadalupe and makes it best for - young fellows like you, Jack Rover, to leave the squaw alone when she - makes back for her hidin’ place in the mountains. I’ll never forget that - morning, although it’s more or less twenty years ago. The great shaggy - brute was following Guadalupe along the trail like a Newfoundland dog. In - those days I was out on the hills roundin’ up some mavericks. One of the - calves broke from the herd and scampered along a trail that led directly - in front of the old squaw. And say, boys, would you believe it? From less - than half a mile away I saw with my own eyes that monster devil of a white - wolf—white as the driven snow—make one terrific mad leap and - grab that yearlin’ by the neck. Guadalupe spotted me and disappeared, and - the white wolf trotted after her round the bend, carryin’ the dead calf in - its jaws as a cat carries a mouse.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you not shoot at the wolf?” excitedly asked Lieutenant Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Shoot, hell! What would have been the use? Didn’t you hear what Tom Baker - said? White wolves have charmed lives whether they go on two legs or - four.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III—Feminine Attractions - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>OM BAKER, the - sheriff, cleared his throat. “You fellers, I’m assoomin’, are all boys. I - have been loafin’ ‘round in this man’s land for forty years. I was here - the day Don Manuel had been buryin’ his old father and mother from the - little Mission Church, less than a quarter of a mile from where we are - settin’. He was standin’ right in front of this store when young Ben - Thurston and two of his ranch hands rode up. If ever I saw real bravery it - was that mornin’. Don’t take much bravery to do some things heroic when - you have your artillery handy, but it requires the real stuff when you’re - gunless. - </p> - <p> - “Young Thurston spoke to his companions and they drew their guns and kept - them leveled at Don Manuel as their boss dismounted. - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel was one of the handsomest young fellers I ever laid my two - eyes on. He walked straight up to Thurston, and notwithstandin’ the two - loaded pieces of artillery was pintin’ straight at him said: - </p> - <p> - “‘Ben Thurston, you are the man who killed my sister.’ - </p> - <p> - “‘You are a damned liar!’ retorted Thurston. - </p> - <p> - “‘Yes, you killed her,’ went on Don Manuel. I found this button in her - dead hand, and right there, by God! is where it came from. Look at your - coat. Your life shall pay for this dastardly murder. If I had my gun I - would settle the matter now, notwithstandin’ that today I have been - burying my beloved father and mother.’ - </p> - <p> - “When young Thurston heard about there bein’ no gun, he snatched the - tell-tale button from his accuser’s hand, swung himself into his saddle, - laughed mockingly, and with his quirt struck Don Manuel across the face; - then he wheeled round his pony and rode away with his bodyguards in a - cloud of dust. - </p> - <p> - “God! I will never forget it. Don Manuel stood there, as white as a piece - of paper, and never moved for a whole minute. The quirt had drawn the - blood from his face in one long streak. At last he turned away with a - resolve in his eyes—one of them there terrible resolves that change - the life of a man, and went back to the little church to finish the last - sad rites to his people. It’s my opinion Don Manuel, from that very hour, - turned bandit in his heart and took oath to murder all the gringos in - California. - </p> - <p> - “As I said before, that was thirty years back, and mebbe a little more, - and I have never seen him since. But we all heard of him good and plenty. - He certainly left a red trail.” - </p> - <p> - A silence followed. Presently Buck Ashley in the way of explanation, said: - </p> - <p> - “That tombstone on his sister’s grave was put up one night. Nobody saw it - done, but everyone knows, of course, it was the work of Don Manuel. It has - just one word—’Hermana’—chiseled on the cross of white marble. - That’s the Mexican for ‘sister,’ guess you all know. So the name Rosetta - is only remembered by old-stagers here, like Tom Baker and me. And we - ain’t forgotten her pretty face either. Poor little girl!” - </p> - <p> - “A doggoned shame,” muttered the sheriff, meditatively, his eyes cast - down. - </p> - <p> - “How about the law?” asked Lieutenant Munson. “The law!” exclaimed Baker, - raising his eyes and flashing a look of withering contempt. “What kind o’ - law was there in those days and in these parts? A gun was usually both - judge and jury. Besides, with the only bit of evidence gone, how could Don - Manuel prove anything agin a rich young feller like Ben Thurston?” - </p> - <p> - “But if he was laying for him all the time, how is it that the White Wolf - never got his man all through those thirty years?” - </p> - <p> - “Because Ben Thurston lit out—he was too demed scared to live on the - rancho any longer. But that’s another story.” - </p> - <p> - “Let’s have it, sheriff.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it’s a longish yarn, and p’raps you fellers are about tired of - hearing me.” - </p> - <p> - No one protested; there was rather a movement of settling down in pleased - expectancy of something worth listening to. So Tom Baker continued: - </p> - <p> - “Ben Thurston had one warnin’, good and plenty, and he didn’t wait around - for a second one. After Don Manuel’s threat, he seldom left his home, and - a little later went back East again. It wasn’t till more’n a year that he - showed up agin at the rancho. This time he brought with him his Eastern - bride, a fine slap-dash young woman who could ride a horse and handle a - team in good shape. But we could all see that she wasn’t too happy, for - Ben Thurston started in to drink heavily, and she was ashamed of him and - showed it.” - </p> - <p> - “Guess it was to drown his conscience and keep from thinkin’ about - Rosetta,” interjected Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “Like as not,” assented Tom. “Well, anyhow, he hadn’t been here very long - afore Don Manuel got him—yes, got him fair and square, although he - managed to save his neck at the last moment. There was card-playin’ and - drinkin’ one night at the rancho—Thurston had got a bunch o’ gay - young dogs down from San Francisco. Mrs. Thurston had left the room, and - was sittin’ out alone in the moonlight on the verandah. Suddenly she heard - a sound that made her sit up and listen—the clatter o’ twenty pairs - o’ gallopin’ hoofs a-comin’ straight for the house. She must ha’ known - something about the vendetta, for she rushed in terror to her husband and - gave him warnin’. He escaped by a back door, and a minute later the place - was surrounded. The shootin’ came first from some of the ranch hands, who - had tumbled out of the bunk house and were spyin’ around corners. They - said later that the hold-up party numbered more’n twenty, some of them - masked with handkerchiefs tied around their faces, but others bold as - brass and not carin’ a dang who saw ‘em. Among these last was Don Manuel. - But Pierre Luzon was a downy duck, for no one spotted him, although later - on we came to know that he played the principal part that night, next to - the leader of the gang. - </p> - <p> - “Well, after the shootin’-scrap became general, there was a pretty scare - in the ranch house—one of the card-players dropped, and the others - were hiding under tables, when Don Manuel appeared and asked for Ben - Thurston. His wife, mighty brave, denied that he was there—he had - left that afternoon for Visalia to buy some cattle, she boldly declared. - Don Manuel, always the true gentleman, mark ye, was for believin’ her when - Pierre, his face masked, came in from the verandah and in a low voice - passed some words to his chief. Mrs. Thurston knew in a moment that her - bluff was goin’ to be called, and, while the outlaws were confabbin’, - darted from the room. - </p> - <p> - “But Pierre was just as quick out by the verandah, and before she got to - the door o’ the woolshed beyond the horse corral, he was there to block - her passage. It was Pierre who had caught a glimpse of the fugitive - sneakin’ into this outbuilding, and now he knew for certain that Thurston - was hiding among the bags o’ wool inside. But a cornered man is a - dangerous animal, and it might mean a good few lives if the door was - opened and any attempt made to rush the place. - </p> - <p> - “The gang was soon buzzin’ all around; the woman, now almost in hysterics, - was hustled aside, and a few bundles of loose hay was being dumped into - the shed through an open window. A match did the rest. Within three - minutes the door opened and Thurston came staggerin’ out through thick - clouds of smoke. Pierre grabbed him and had a noose around his neck in - doublequick time. - </p> - <p> - “The shootin’ was over before this, and some of the ranch hands were - lookin’ on from a little distance, for now everyone knew that it was only - the boss that the night-riders were after. So more’n one was able - afterwards to tell the story—how the young wife threw herself at Don - Manuel’s feet, and with sobs and tears pleaded for mercy. And by the - living God she won out even after the rope, with her husband at the end of - it, had been swung over the limb of a near-by sycamore. - </p> - <p> - “The White Wolf stood stock-still for perhaps a minute, weighin’ things - like, his arms folded across his breast. Then he raised the weepin’ woman, - and, turnin’ to Thurston, now half-dead with fear, laid hold of him by the - shoulder and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. Then with his other hand - he flung the noose from around his neck. ‘Take your miserable life, then, - this time’—that’s what Don Manuel said. ‘Take it, but the day will - come when we shall meet again, man to man, with no woman’s tears to save - you.’ And he pushed Thurston away contemptuously, topplin’ him over like a - ninepin, and a minute later rode off at the head of his men.” - </p> - <p> - The narrator paused, and there was a general murmur of repressed - excitement. - </p> - <p> - “My word, that’s a peach of a story,” exclaimed Jack Rover. - </p> - <p> - “He certainly was a chivalrous fellow, this oldtime Don Manuel,” remarked - the lieutenant. - </p> - <p> - “And don’t you see,” said the sheriff, “that, when a man acted like that - and spoke like that, his words must come true? Don’t tell me that Don - Manuel today is dead while Ben Thurston is still alive. But he has taken - mighty good care of himself ever since that day. He an’ his wife skipped - East the very next morning, and I’m told they never stopped till they got - to Europe. Nobody knows where exactly they lived during the time that - followed, but news came through years later that the wife had died, - somewhere in the south of England, leaving a son behind. That’s young - Marshall who has come West with his dad now—the young man’s first - visit and his father’s last one, I reckon, if he sells the ranch, as I’m - told he’s trying to do.” - </p> - <p> - “But I say, boys,” observed Jack Rover, “what do you suppose the White - Wolf did with all the gold he took away from the people? It’s said that in - one stage robbery he got over fifty thousand dollars of the yellow stuff.” - </p> - <p> - “Hid it,” replied Buck Ashley, “with Joaquin Murietta’s hoarded gold. For - it’s sure as sure can be that Don Manuel came to know the secret o’ the - bandits’ cave where Murietta used to store his loot. The only thing - anybody else knows is that it is around here somewheres.” - </p> - <p> - “But they do say,” observed one of the cowboys, “whatever Sheriff Baker - may think, and you, too, Buck, that Don Manuel is sure ‘nuff dead. Most - folks herabouts believe that the White Wolf has gone to his long restin’ - place, sort a j’ined forces with old Joaquin Murietta. The Tulare Lake - affair was, I guess, his last raid.” - </p> - <p> - “He ain’t dead,” muttered Tom, determinedly, while Buck Ashley also shook - his head in repudiation of the cowboy’s theory. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I happen to know,” observed Dick Willoughby, “that Mr. Thurston has - run down the story of the White Wolf’s death in that Seattle saloon brawl - pretty thoroughly, and he is of the opinion that the big-featured articles - in the San Francisco and Los Angeles papers were correct—that the - dead man’s identity was absolutely established.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s how he’d wish it to be, at all events,” said Buck Ashley. “But - even now, when Ben Thurston ventures to come home to the rancho, he brings - with him a great big hulking bodyguard—Leach Sharkey, I’m told is - the fellow’s name. That don’t look much like believin’ the White Wolf to - be dead and the vendetta played out, does it? You can see it in his - hang-dog face that it isn’t any real pleasure for him to be around in - these parts. He ain’t once paid me a visit at the store. Guess he thinks - his hide’ll last longer by stickin’ close to home. You owe your job o’ - runnin’ his cattle, Dick Willoughby, to the fact that he’s still plumb - scared.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, well, I am in his employ,” said Dick loyally, “and I’m inclined to - give him the benefit of the doubt as regards these ugly rumors and idle - stories. He has always been on the square with me. But perhaps he’ll stick - to the rancho, now he believes the White Wolf to be dead.” - </p> - <p> - “He may believe it, but, as Buck says, why then the bodyguard?” commented - the sheriff as he relighted his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” replied Dick Willoughby, “but I believe he is thinking of letting - Leach Sharkey go. Personally I would be willing to wager that Don Manuel, - whom no one has seen since that last raid on the stage coach, is dead and - sleeping with his sires.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, dead or alive,” exclaimed Jack Rover, “I don’t care a hang for the - White Wolf and his-buried treasure. But what I would like to know is the - exact location of that rippling mountain stream, the identical sandbar - where the old squaw Guadalupe gathers up her pocket change with which to - buy groceries. That would be a heap better than any blooming cave. Them’s - my sentiments.” - </p> - <p> - As he said this he threw some silver on the bar and invited everybody to - lubricate. - </p> - <p> - “Just nominate your poison, boys, and let’s drink to my finding old - Guadalupe’s gold mine.” - </p> - <p> - They all laughed good-naturedly, and Lieutenant Munson declared that he - thought he would put in the balance of his furlough days prospecting. “You - know,” he explained in an aside to the storekeeper while the latter was - preparing the drinks, “I am only here to visit my old college pal, Dick - Willoughby, and incidentally see the place where my father was a soldier - in the early California days. He was stationed several years in Fort - Tejon.” - </p> - <p> - “That was before my time,” said Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “The soldiers had abandoned the old fort when I came first into these - parts.” - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile Dick Willoughby was clinking glasses with Jack Hover. - </p> - <p> - “There are some mighty pretty little senoritas hereabouts,” said Dick, - “good American blood mixed with Spanish blood, you know, and all that. If - a fellow could only find the right one—understand, I say the right - one, Jack—he wouldn’t be losing any time in chasing after the old - squaw’s secret gold mine or the White Wolf’s buried millions.” - </p> - <p> - Jack Rover laughed outright. - </p> - <p> - “I say, Dick, what are you reddening up about? Gee, if I had as fine a - lead as you have staked out, I’d feel the same way. Ain’t that right, - Buck?” Buck Ashley winked at Jack Rover and said: “If you mean who I think - you mean, you sure are righter than right. I speak wide open and - unrestrained when I give it as my opinion that Miss Merle Farnsworth is - the finest specimen of young womanhood that I ever set eyes on, and I have - seen some girls East as well as West. Take it from me, she is a jewel, she - is a regular beauty rose. Yes,” he went on, “and too damned good for that - young Thurston whelp, who hangs around tryin’ to act smart whenever she - and that old duenna chaperon of hers comes here to trade. I’ll simply boot - him out of the store one of these days.” - </p> - <p> - Dick Willoughby smiled in a satisfied way as he moved toward the door. - </p> - <p> - “Well, hold on, Dick,” called out Jack Rover, “don’t be in such a - dangnation hurry. I’ll ride with you in a minute. I’ve just got this to - say to you, Buck Ashley, that I like you better than ever for what you’ve - said about Marshall Thurston. Even though I’m working for the Thurston - outfit, I’m free to express my opinion that that young feller is about the - meanest specimen of low-down humanity I’ve ever struck.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s a case of the second decadency, I suppose,” remarked Munson. “The - worthless profligate, spawn of the rich old roué, Ben Thurston.” - </p> - <p> - “Such a drunken pup,” continued Rover, “aint’ good enough for a half-breed - Indian, much less for the likes of the young ladies of La Siesta. Gee, if - I thought there was one chance in a thousand for me with either of them, - why goodbye to that placer gold mine ambition that’s eating my vitals, or - to the planted millions of the White Wolf.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke the last words, he followed Dick Willoughby into the open. - Dick was standing by his pony. - </p> - <p> - “You’re superlatively in earnest, aren’t you?” he said as he laughed - good-naturedly at the cowboy. - </p> - <p> - “You bet your life I’m in earnest,” replied Jack. “And if you don’t get - busy with that love affair of yours, well, take it from me, you had better - look out, for somebody will be picking the peach right from under your - very nose. Well, so long, Dick; I’ve changed my mind; I’ll not ride with - you. I’ll see to that bit of fence repairing up on the range. And who - knows but I may find a sand-bar and a riffle sparkling with yellow gold?” - He laughed like a big overgrown boy as he touched the rowel to his pony - and galloped away across the valley. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV—Back to the Soil - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>ACK ROVER is a - great boy,” said Dick Willoughby to Lieutenant Munson as the two rode off - at a leisurely pace toward the group of ranch buildings peeping through a - clump of trees at the edge of the foothills. - </p> - <p> - “A type of Western character,” replied Munson, “that in a way is quite new - to me. And yet, do you know, I rather like this Western atmosphere.” - </p> - <p> - “Like it!” exclaimed Dick. “Why, man, it is <i>the</i> atmosphere in which - to live, move and have one’s being.” - </p> - <p> - They both laughed at his enthusiasm. - </p> - <p> - “Really,” continued Dick, soberly, “I would not live another year in New - York City for all the property fronting on the Circle, the coming centre - of old Gotham. Out here a man is a man for what he is worth. You grow - bigger, you think broader thoughts, you are not confined to following - precedents or taking orders from the man higher up.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I know,” replied Munson, “or at least I am beginning to understand - something of what you mean. I have only been here ten days and I am - already feeling loath to return to my post.” - </p> - <p> - “Ches,” exclaimed Dick, turning abruptly and facing his companion, “give - it all up, old fellow, and come and live in this glorious country—California! - There’s music in the very name. It is the land of sunshine, of fruits and - flowers, and of pretty girls into the bargain.” - </p> - <p> - “You keep telling me of the pretty girls, but when am I to see them?” - questioned Munson. “If you have any real senoritas who will cause a fellow - to forsake his Eastern home and send in his resignation to army - headquarters, let me get a peep at them.” - </p> - <p> - Again they both laughed, this time at the challenge in Munson’s words. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said Dick, “you shall see them. And, by the way, don’t you - remember that this is the very day we have arranged to call on Mrs. - Darlington at the Rancho La Siesta? It is a beautiful place, this little - rancho, and Mrs. Darlington you will find to be a most admirable woman. - But just wait until you see Grace Darlington.” - </p> - <p> - “How about Miss Farnsworth?” - </p> - <p> - “Not for you, old man,” replied the other quickly, reddening at the - temples. “Not as long as my name is Dick Willoughby—providing, you - understand, always providing that I shall prove successful in my wooing.” - </p> - <p> - “Is it as bad as that, Dick?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,”—his laughing tone was only a mask to deeper feelings—“I - cannot deny that I am pretty hard hit.” - </p> - <p> - “My, but you do whet my impatience,” said the lieutenant. “And I am about - as anxious to be paying that afternoon call as I am to have my breakfast. - I don’t know how you feel, Dick, but I’m as hungry as a lean coyote.” He - paused a moment, then asked in a musing tone: “How far away is this - wonderful La Siesta Rancho?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, only about twenty miles.” - </p> - <p> - “Twenty miles! You speak of miles out here in the same way as we speak of - city blocks back in New York. Surely it must be quite a farm.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite a farm? I should say! You musn’t confound our Californian ranchos - with Eastern farms, old man. Why, this rancho of San Antonio covers over - four hundred square miles of territory.” - </p> - <p> - “You astonish me.” - </p> - <p> - “La Siesta Rancho adjoins the great San Antonio possession and contains - comparatively few acres, just under three thousand. But it surely is a - beautiful little place, fixed up like a nobleman’s park in the old world. - And then the ladies—” - </p> - <p> - “Aha, the ladies,” repeated Munson, doffing his hat in courtly fashion and - smiling audaciously. - </p> - <p> - Dick touched the flank of his pony with his spur, and for a few miles they - rode on at a quicker pace and in silence. Soon they were approaching the - ranch buildings. On the outer edge was a little cottage, covered with - vines and surrounded by fruit trees, the place which Dick Willoughby, the - cattle foreman, had called “home” for the past five years. - </p> - <p> - After turning their horses into a corral, they passed by way of a broad - verandah into a big room, roughly but comfortably furnished. Some logs - were smouldering in the fireplace, and quickly started into a bright blaze - when Dick kicked them together. The warmth was grateful, for while out of - doors everything was now bathed in genial sunshine, here the morning air - was still keen. - </p> - <p> - A Chinaman appeared from the back quarters, and smiled expectantly. - </p> - <p> - “Breakfast, Sing Ling,” called out Dick, “and just as quick as you can - serve it.” - </p> - <p> - Sing Ling departed as noiselessly as he had come. - </p> - <p> - “These are certainly great quarters,” observed Munson, settling himself in - a big Old Mission rocker and glancing around. - </p> - <p> - The walls, curiously enough, were pretty well covered with pen-and-ink - sketches and designs of buildings that might have adorned an architect’s - office, while there was a partly completed landscape painting in oils - standing on a rudely fashioned easel. - </p> - <p> - “And you’ve certainly stuck to the old line of work, Dick,” the lieutenant - went on. - </p> - <p> - “Of course one must have something to think about when he is all alone in - a new country,” replied Willoughby. “But most of that stuff I did in my - first year here,” he added, following the other’s survey of the walls. - </p> - <p> - “You still paint, however,” remarked Munson, his eyes resting on the - unfinished canvas. - </p> - <p> - “Or try to,” was the laughing response. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that’s a modest way of putting it. Do you know, old man,” Munson went - on, “since I came here I have often thought what a marvelous change has - been wrought in you—what a transplanting has taken place? You were a - chronic New Yorker, except for that one year you spent in the Latin - Quarter of gay Paree. You thought then you were going to make a great - painter. And, by gad, I almost believe so myself,” he added, bending - forward to make a more critical scrutiny of the work on the easel. “By - jove, that’s really fine, Dick.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m afraid that’s flattery, Chester, my boy,” responded Willoughby. - “However, it sounds good to hear you say so. A word of appreciation is - what all hearts hunger for. Personally I even believe in a moderate amount - of flattery. Its psychic influence is more potent in arousing and causing - the heart to throb with ambition than all the stimulants, drugs or - reasoning in the world. Indeed, without a certain amount of flattery one - becomes ambitionless, languid, and perishes; whereas the unexpected caress - or kindly words of praise from loved ones, just or unjust, adds more - strength to the good right arm of the breadwinner than all the beef in - Christendom, and makes the sunshine seem brighter and earth’s every breeze - a south wind blowing across beds of violets.” - </p> - <p> - “A bit of a poet, too, I see,” smiled Munson. - </p> - <p> - Willoughby made no reply. He had crossed over to the open door and was - looking out on the valley that stretched away for miles—great oak - trees in the foreground, with cattle-dotted pasture lands beyond. Waving - his hand toward the vast expanse, he said: - </p> - <p> - “Just look at that for a picture, and see how tame a man-made gallery is - as compared with this great art gallery of Nature. Do you know, Ches, I - despise New York? There was a time, when I first came here, that I felt I - should die of ennui, yearning for the Great White Way once again. But I - have outgrown all that. I know now, thank God, there’s nothing to it. Here - a man can fill his lungs with pure air, and at the same time feast his - soul all day long with beautiful things.” - </p> - <p> - There followed a brief interval of silence. Munson had risen and joined - his comrade at the door. Both were gazing over the glorious sunlit sweep - of territory rimmed by the distant, pine-clad hills. In the heart of Dick - Willoughby was supreme contentment, in that of Chester Munson a vague - longing to get away from red-tape army routine and breathe the - exhilarating and inspiring freedom of life in the open. - </p> - <p> - “Blakeflast,” bleated a soft voice behind them, and turning round they - found the suave, smiling Chinaman with hand outstretched toward the - smoking viands upon the table. Sentiment was instantly forgotten in favor - of lamb chops grilled to a turn, a great fluffled omelette with fine herbs - that would have done credit to a Parisian chef, and coffee that was - veritable nectar. - </p> - <p> - At last appetite was satisfied. The lieutenant had produced his cigar - case, Dick was filling his briar-root pipe with tobacco from the humidor. - The latter spoke: - </p> - <p> - “Say, Ches, we were talking about New York. Do you want me to give you a - toast on that modern Babylon?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure, old man, go ahead! You know I haven’t lost my interest in old - Gotham, by any manner of means. It may the a modern Babylon. But to me it - is none the less the greatest of American cities.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s just the trouble,” said Dick, seriously. “It is too great. There - identities are swallowed up. Individualism cannot survive. It is all one - great composite.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, let us hear the toast.” - </p> - <p> - Dick raised his cup of coffee and said: “Very well, here it is; here is my - opinion of New York: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ‘Vulgar in manners; overfed, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Over-dressed and under-bred; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Heartless, godless, hell’s delight, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Rude by day and lewd by night. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Bedwarfed the man, enlarged the brute; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Ruled by boss and prostitute. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Purple robed and pauper clad; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Raving, rotten, money mad; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A squirming herd in Mammon’s mesh; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A wilderness of human flesh; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Crazed by avarice, lust and rum— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - New York! thy name’s delirium.’.rdquo; - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “Great Heavens, old man,” exclaimed Munson, when Dick had finished, “you - are severe, to say the least.” - </p> - <p> - Willoughby laughed good-naturedly as he passed the match box to his - friend. - </p> - <p> - “Not severe, only truthful,” he said. “You see, in New York no man dares - think for himself. Everything is controlled by a machine-appointed - chairman, secretary and committee, and you must hear the resolutions read - before you know the doctrine you are perforce to advocate.” - </p> - <p> - Then he lit his pipe and rose from the table. - </p> - <p> - “Now, I have a lot of things to attend to, old fellow,” he resumed. “Make - yourself comfortable. Here’s a bunch of Eastern newspapers—oh, I - read them regularly, haven’t got rid of that bad habit yet. I’ll tell Sing - Ling to have lunch ready on the stroke of noon. Then we’ll be in good time - to start out for the Rancho La Siesta. So long!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V—At La Siesta - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OON after one - o’clock Dick Willoughby and Chester Munson were again in the saddle. They - galloped along the foothills for some time in silence. But coming to the - boulder-strewn wash of a mountain stream, they had perforce to rein their - horses to a walk. Conversation was now possible. - </p> - <p> - “Dick, will you give me a job as a cowboy if I quit the army?” asked - Munson abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “Surest thing you know,” replied Dick. “But why try to kid me like that?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” laughed the other, “I am not jesting.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, by gad, if you feel that way already, the chances are you will - write out your resignation when you get back to the shack tonight.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean by that—” - </p> - <p> - “I mean,” said Dick, smiling benignly at his friend, “that when you have - once seen Grace Darlington you will feel like browsing on the California - range until you have learned to throw a riata.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it is not the thought of any mere girl that will influence my - decision. I feel like getting back to Nature—back to the soil—back - to a life of untrammeled freedom.” - </p> - <p> - “Back to unspoiled womanhood,” added Dick sententiously. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you’ve certainly got my curiosity aroused over these young ladies - at La Siesta. How much farther do we have to go?” - </p> - <p> - “Within an hour, sir, within the hour, my lord, shall you see the lady - fair. But remember,” Dick went on banteringly, “that you are not to - practise any riata-throwing on Miss Merle Farnsworth.” - </p> - <p> - “I understand. But we won’t fall out over her. You may have your beautiful - brunette. I have always been partial to blondes.” - </p> - <p> - “In the plural number,” grinned Dick. “But Grace Darlington will dim the - light of all your previous flames. She is the most perfect blonde you have - ever yet encountered.” - </p> - <p> - “You are certainly enthusiastic—for a disinterested party.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you’ll say the same thing, Ches, my boy, when you see her.” - </p> - <p> - It was not yet four o’clock when they approached the Rancho La Siesta. The - house was of a style quite unusual in California—a miniature castle - that might have been planned by some European architect of renown. It - stood amid noble oak trees, old and gnarled and of gigantic size, but not - too numerous to hide the architectural features of the building. To the - rear the trees grew more thickly till they finally merged into one great - forest that covered the lower ridge of the mountain beyond. Far up, just - within the timber line, could be seen the red-tiled roof of a house which - Dick told his friend was the home of a Mr. Ricardo Robles. Beneath the - forest, the gently undulating lands sloped away to a considerable stream - that dashed down from one of the mountain canyons and debouched into the - great valley. - </p> - <p> - “Whew!” exclaimed Munson admiringly, as they rode up and turned their - horses over to an attendant. “Some swell architecture around here! Is this - your work, Dick?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0055.jpg" alt="0055 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0055.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Oh, no!” replied Willoughby. “I had nothing to do with it. But I do like - the architectural lines of Mrs. Darlington’s home. She’s English and has - English tastes, and transplanted ideas are not always successful in a new - country. But in this case the building just seems to fit the scenery. It - has always delighted me.” - </p> - <p> - “It is certainly beautiful,” concurred Munson as they walked along a - winding graveled pathway that climbed the gentle slope and led to the - portico of the mansion. - </p> - <p> - Around them were gay beds of flowers dotting the greensward. Almost hiding - the columns of the portico were climbing roses, one bush of the purest - white, the other of deep crimson. - </p> - <p> - As they passed under the porch roof, a handsome and well-preserved lady of - middle age appeared at the top of the steps with a welcoming smile. She - descended to give them gracious greeting. - </p> - <p> - “How glad I am to see you, Mr. Willoughby. No one could be more welcome at - La Siesta.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” said Dick with marked chivalry. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Darlington, permit me to present my friend, Lieutenant Munson.” - </p> - <p> - The introduction over, they ascended the steps together, and passed into a - spacious courtyard, with broad verandahs running all around and a fountain - playing in the centre. The hostess conducted her visitors to a cosy - corner, screened by glass panels from the open air and furnished with rich - Persian rugs, divans, cushions, tapestries, carved ebony tabarets, all in - oriental fashion. When they were comfortably settled, she opened the - conversation. - </p> - <p> - “Lieutenant, the young ladies of La Siesta are most impatient to meet you. - Mr. Willoughby has told us so much about you and yet has been so very - dilatory—yes, really you have, Mr. Willoughby—in bringing you - over, that we have put down several black marks against his name.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, thank you,” stammered the young officer, reddening. “I quite agree - with you about Willoughby, for I have been pleading with him to present me - from the very first day of my arrival.” Turning to Mrs. Darlington, Dick - laughingly protested: “My dear Mrs. Darlington, that is the first whopper - you have heard from my esteemed friend. You have yet to learn that he - always speaks in the superlative degree.” - </p> - <p> - At this moment Grace Darlington stepped through one of the French windows. - As she stood hesitating for a moment, Chester Munson there and then agreed - with all the preliminary praise Dick Willoughby had bestowed. She was - certainly a vision of loveliness, with a wealth of golden hair and eyes of - sapphire blue; petite, her figure plump but beautifully molded, her cheeks - aglow with the red roses of health and youth and happiness. - </p> - <p> - “My daughter Grace,” announced Mrs. Darlington, rising and formally - introducing the lieutenant to her as she joined the group. - </p> - <p> - Again Munson blushed and stammered. Dick was chuckling; he saw that the - gallant son of battle, with a penchant for blonde beauties, had succumbed - to the first glance from Grace Darlington’s eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Delighted to meet you, Lieutenant Munson,” she declared with frank - friendliness as they shook hands. - </p> - <p> - “Where’s Merle?” asked Dick almost before Grace had time to turn to him. - </p> - <p> - “There now, Mr. Impatience,” she replied, shaking her finger teasingly at, - him, “Merle will be here in her own good time. She’s busy with Bob just - now.” - </p> - <p> - “Who the dickens is Bob?” asked Dick, visibly disconcerted. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, her new Irish terrier,” laughed Grace, her voice ringing with - mischievous merriment. “And such a beauty!” - </p> - <p> - Dick breathed again. The lieutenant had recovered his composure; it was - his turn now to bestow a sardonic smile upon his comrade. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll have afternoon tea,” suggested Mrs. Darlington. “And of course you - two young men will stay for dinner.” - </p> - <p> - Both uttered a simultaneous protest—they were only in riding - clothes. But Mrs. Darlington made short work of the argument, and touched - a pushbutton by her side. A maid responded, the extra covers for dinner - were ordered, and meanwhile tea was to be sent on to the verandah. - Pleasant small talk succeeded, the lieutenant being called upon for his - first impressions of California. - </p> - <p> - Of a sudden Grace exclaimed in a voice, half of joy, half of surprise: - </p> - <p> - “Why, here comes Mr. Robles!” - </p> - <p> - Advancing along the verandah, hat in hand, was a man of striking presence - and dignity, perhaps fifty years of age. His jet black hair was streaked - with gray, the full beard almost verging on whiteness. Olive complexion - and brown eyes, together with the courtly manner of his salutation, - indicated the thoroughbred Castilian. - </p> - <p> - He bowed and raised to his lips the hand of his hostess. To Grace he paid - the same deference. Next he turned to Dick Willoughby and extended his - hand. - </p> - <p> - “I have met Mr. Willoughby. I am pleased, sir, to see you again.” - </p> - <p> - Then his eyes rested on Lieutenant Munson, and Mrs. Darlington presented - the young army officer. - </p> - <p> - “And where, I pray, is Miss Merle?” Mr. Robles finally asked, glancing - around. - </p> - <p> - “That’s what I want to know,” blurted out Dick. Then he reddened just a - little. - </p> - <p> - The older man looked kindly at Dick, and smilingly said: “The audacity of - youth.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” put in Grace, “the audacity and the impatience as well.” - </p> - <p> - But just at that moment there floated from the recesses of the home the - fragment of a song: “I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls, with vassals and - serfs at my side.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, here comes the recreant now,” exclaimed Mrs. Darlington. - </p> - <p> - The song stopped abruptly, and a moment later Merle Farnsworth appeared. - She went first of all to Mr. Robles and greeted him warmly, giving him - both her hands, which he kissed in his princely fashion. For Willoughby - she had a pleasant smile, and for his friend, the lieutenant, a kindly - welcome to California. - </p> - <p> - The tea tray had meanwhile arrived, and soon both the young ladies were - busy attending to their guests. While he sipped his tea, Munson completed - his inspection of Merle Farnsworth—dispassionately, for the brunette - type of beauty had never yet made his pulses beat faster. But he could - none the less admire. She was a stately girl, taller than Grace - Darlington, with fine, regular features and brown eyes that matched the - dark heavy braids of her hair. Her manner was alert and vivacious, yet - there was the quiet dignity of gentle breeding even in her smile. - </p> - <p> - After half an hour of general conversation, Mr. Robles arose to take his - leave, notwithstanding Mrs. Darlington’s pressing invitation that he - should remain and join the dinner party. - </p> - <p> - “My home is not far away,” he said when shaking hands with Munson, “up in - the woods yonder. Perhaps you may have seen it as you came along the - road.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” observed Dick, “I pointed it out to the lieutenant.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, both you gentlemen are cordially invited to pay me a visit any time - you are riding through this part of the country. Although I live far away - from the busy world, and am a recluse by choice, I have some things that - may interest you—pictures, old manuscripts and books of the Spanish - days.” - </p> - <p> - “Pictures?” interposed Dick, inquiringly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, a few that I picked up during several visits to Europe.” - </p> - <p> - “If people only knew it,” remarked Mrs. Darlington, “Mr. Robles has - perhaps one of the finest private picture galleries in America.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I’m certainly coming to see you,” said Dick, eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “Me or my pictures?” asked Mr. Robles with a quizzical smile. - </p> - <p> - “Both,” and the young fellow showed he meant it by a cordial hand grip. - </p> - <p> - “You will pass our door, Mr. Willoughby?” exclaimed Merle in half-laughing - reproachfulness. “You will dare to give the go-by to La Siesta?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, art is art,” replied Dick sturdily, although he did not trust - himself to look at Merle while he answered. - </p> - <p> - “But perhaps the young ladies will show you the way through the oak - forest,” suggested Mr. Robles. - </p> - <p> - “That would be great,” said Lieutenant Munson, with his eyes fixed on - Grace Darlington. - </p> - <p> - “Delightful,” she blushingly assented. - </p> - <p> - “Well, arrange it among yourselves. For the present, <i>adios</i>.” And - with a sweeping bow the senor took his departure. - </p> - <p> - A stroll through the gardens and orchards, dinner and sprightly - conversation, an hour of piano-playing and singing to follow—altogether - a delightful evening was spent. The nearly full moon had risen before the - young men found themselves on the homeward trail. - </p> - <p> - As side by side they rode down into the valley, Munson said: - </p> - <p> - “Dick, boy, there’s no use talking. You have introduced me to some - perfectly charming people today—they’re wonderful.” - </p> - <p> - “What did I tell you?” asked Dick. - </p> - <p> - “You surely did not tell me the half,” replied the other. “I think Grace - Darlington is the prettiest girl I have ever seen.” - </p> - <p> - “Guess you’ll be writing out your resignation and sending it to army - headquarters,” laughed Dick. “<i>Quien sabe?</i>” - </p> - <p> - The lieutenant made no reply, and quickening their pace, they pushed on in - silence. - </p> - <p> - At last they were nearing home—passing round the last spur of the - mountain. The moon was now riding high overhead, bathing the whole - landscape in bright effulgence. Willoughby brought his pony to a walk, and - Munson, coming up behind, soon joined him. - </p> - <p> - “How do you like riding by the light of the California moon?” asked - Willoughby. - </p> - <p> - “Really, Dick, you call even the moon a California moon, as if the same - moon didn’t shine in New York City or in Paris.” - </p> - <p> - “Not in the same way,” said Dick soberly. “The truth is, the moon really - looks larger and brighter here, and the stars, too, are more brilliant. - Haven’t you noticed it?” - </p> - <p> - “I have noticed that the atmosphere is exceedingly clear,” replied Munson, - and, as if to verify his observation, he cast a glance up to the - rock-ribbed flank of the mountain above the belt of timber. - </p> - <p> - “Good God, what’s that?” he added breathlessly grasping the arm of his - friend. - </p> - <p> - Instinctively both halted their horses as they continued to gaze. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0105.jpg" alt="0105 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0105.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The bent form of the old Indian squaw Guadalupe was unmistakable as she - toiled slowly along a narrow ledge on the face of the precipice. But - following close behind her was a vague, shadowy figure—the figure of - some four-footed beast, bigger than a big dog. - </p> - <p> - “The white wolf!” gasped Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Is it real, or is it a spectre?” whispered Munson. - </p> - <p> - Just then a scudding cloud momentarily obscured the moon, and when the - full light again shone forth, both woman and wolf had vanished. - </p> - <p> - The young men looked into each other’s eyes in awe and wonderment. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—The Quarrel - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE following days - were busy ones on San Antonio Rancho. Dick Willoughby was constantly in - the saddle, looking after his subordinates, watching the line fences, and - generally keeping track of the vast herds. Lieutenant Munson was becoming - acclimated. He not only accompanied Willoughby on many of his rides, but - had also paid several visits to La Siesta, and one afternoon in particular - had enjoyed immensely a successful trout fishing expedition with the young - ladies along the mountain stream that flowed through the property. - </p> - <p> - One morning there was great excitement at San Antonio headquarters. Ben - Thurston returned from a visit he had been paying to Los Angeles, and with - him floated in a circumstantial story that the rancho had been really - sold. As usual, he was attended by the plain-clothes detective whom he - retained as bodyguard. Leach Sharkey was a big, hulking fellow, more than - six feet in height, with a tousled shock of reddish hair, a stubby red - mustache, and teeth that showed even when his face was in repose. Bulging - hip pockets indicated the brace of heavy revolvers which he invariably - carried. - </p> - <p> - Within an hour of Mr. Thurston’s coming, Dick Willoughby, as foreman, was - summoned to an interview at the ranch house. The owner received him alone - in his office. - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston was a squat, solidly built man, and despite his life of idle - luxury, carried his fifty odd years well. He was sullen and taciturn in - manner, but brusque and imperious when he did choose to speak. Two - features were markedly characteristic—the chin was weak and the eyes - had the restless, alert look of one who constantly lived in an atmosphere - of fear and suspicion. - </p> - <p> - Thurston opened the conversation without any preliminaries. - </p> - <p> - “Willoughby, I want an accurate count of all the cattle and horses on the - ranch; and especially I require a fair idea as to the number of fatted - beeves—those ready for the market, you understand.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” replied Dick, “your orders shall be carried out as - expeditiously as possible, but it will require a few days to complete the - work.” - </p> - <p> - “How many days?” - </p> - <p> - “If I make use of all the force it may take a week—perhaps a little - longer.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, use all the help you can get. I must have these figures - promptly. There is a Los Angeles syndicate who are after an option on the - rancho. They are counting on buying me out—lock, stock and barrel.” - Ben Thurston smiled, squinted his shifty eyes and blew his nose - vigorously. - </p> - <p> - “It always makes me laugh,” he added pompously, “to have these fellows - come around this great principality of mine and try to buy me out.” - </p> - <p> - Just then someone outside flitted past the window, and, quick as - lightning, Thurston turned and exclaimed in a startled tone: “Who was - that?” - </p> - <p> - “That was Jack Rover,” replied Dick, “one of our cowboys.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” and the frightened look in the eyes subsided. - </p> - <p> - “Tomorrow then,” Dick went on, returning to their former topic of - conversation, “we’ll begin a round-up of the stock at this end of the - range. I’ll put the boys on the job right now.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll join you tomorrow myself.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, Mr. Thurston.” - </p> - <p> - “What time?” - </p> - <p> - “At any time agreeable to you.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, say eight o’clock in the morning. You see,” he continued, “I want - to get through with this damned business in a hurry and start back East. I - have friends who are waiting for me. Of course I will have to stay here - until the representatives of this syndicate come up from Los Angeles, but - I will make short work of them, believe me.” - </p> - <p> - This time Ben Thurston laughed outright and rubbed his hands together in a - satisfied way. For once he seemed inclined to be communicative, and, - turning to Willoughby, resumed: - </p> - <p> - “Do you know, I have collected over three hundred thousand dollars, first - and last, selling options on this San Antonio Rancho? It is quite a joke. - They all fall down. They make a first payment of twenty-five or fifty - thousand dollars, and then,” throwing up both his hands and shrugging his - shoulders, “their payments cease and I am just that much ahead of the - game.” Willoughby listened in frigid silence; there was not even the - flicker of a responsive smile on his face. - </p> - <p> - Thurston, eyeing him for a moment, looked disconcerted. He drew himself up - stiffly in his chair. His voice assumed its usual gruff tone. - </p> - <p> - “That’s all; get to work then,” he said curtly as he lifted some papers to - show that the interview was at an end. - </p> - <p> - The first round-up was held some twenty miles southwest of the ranch - house, at the base of the foothills across the valley from La Siesta. Ben - Thurston, attended closely by his bodyguard, was there, his shifting eyes - scanning each new face. Not fewer than ten thousand head of cattle were - milling about, pawing the earth and bellowing in low tones of irritation - at being herded together and held away from their accustomed haunts of - juicy grasses. - </p> - <p> - From a knoll at a little distance Lieutenant Munson, seated on a fine - riding pony, watched the great performance, which to him was more - wonderful than any hippodrome show or military parade. He was so engrossed - with the spectacle that he did not hear the patter of approaching hoofs. - </p> - <p> - “Good morning, Senor Lieutenant,” came a lady’s voice in cheery greeting. - </p> - <p> - Turning quickly in his saddle he saw Grace Darlington and Merle Farnsworth - on their ponies, which had been brought to a sudden halt close behind him. - </p> - <p> - “Really, Mr. Munson,” said Grace Darlington, “one would think you were so - completely lost in contemplation of a mob of cattle that you had no eyes - for your friends.” - </p> - <p> - Chester bowed and raised his hat as he replied with a bright smile: - </p> - <p> - “It is certainly a great scene, isn’t it? But you are none the less - welcome. Indeed when one is witnessing something unusual, it always adds - to the interest to have the companionship of friends.” - </p> - <p> - “Very prettily put,” observed Merle Farnsworth. “Fortunately the place - selected for the round-up this year isn’t very far from La Siesta, so we - rode across the valley.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you anything in New York,” asked Grace, “to compare with this?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed we have not,” replied the lieutenant with conviction. “I am - beginning to think that the West is a pretty good place in which to live. - By the way,” he went on, taking a newspaper clipping from his pocket, - “here is something that our mutual friend, Dick, gave me, and said I - should read once a day for a month, and then—well, then, he says I - will never go East again, but remain in this great picture country. Shall - I read it?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, do, by all means,” said the girls in unison. “Well, here goes! ‘Every - idea we have in the East is run with a convention. We cannot think without - a chairman. Our whims have secretaries; our fads have by-laws. Literature - is a club. Philosophy is a society. Our reforms are mass meetings. We - cannot mourn our mighty dead without some great chairman and a half - hundred vice-presidents. We remember our novelists and poets with - trustees, while the immortality of a dead genius is looked after by a - standing committee. Charity is an association, and theology at best only a - set of resolutions.’.rdquo; - </p> - <p> - “What do you think of that?” he asked, laughing. “Isn’t that an awful slam - on the East?” - </p> - <p> - “It is rather severe,” smiled Merle. “But you know, Mr. Willoughby has - become a thorough Westerner. The lure of the hills and the valleys has - taken complete possession of him.” - </p> - <p> - “And yet he remains unspoiled.” exclaimed the lieutenant. “But are you - aware he is trying to tamper with my old allegiance to the East?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed,” asked Grace, “in what way?” - </p> - <p> - “He wants me to resign my commission and take pot luck with him, as he - terms it.” - </p> - <p> - “You couldn’t do better,” exclaimed Grace enthusiastically. - </p> - <p> - While this conversation was going on, an exciting incident was taking - place only a short distance away. Young Marshall Thurston had come with - his father to the round-up, and was riding about watching the operations. - Chancing to pass near, Dick Willoughby overheard him use an insulting - epithet in regard to Miss Farnsworth—the young man was evidently - peeved that the ladies had not sought him out instead of Munson, and it - was obvious, too, that he had been drinking even at that early hour in the - morning. - </p> - <p> - Swiftly wheeling, Dick rode up to him with a look of anger so intense that - even the cowboys who knew him were taken aback. - </p> - <p> - “You foul-mouthed beast!” he hissed, as he pushed his quirt into the - slanderer’s face. “Just let me overhear you make a rude remark again about - Miss Farnsworth and I will hammer the life out of you. You are nothing - better than a drunken hobo, not fit to associate with ladies.” - </p> - <p> - The outburst was so sudden that young Thurston was cowed and attempted no - reply. But as Willoughby rode off he sent after him a look of sullen and - resentful hatred. Two or three of the cowboys, who really were good - friends of Dick Willoughby, but were nevertheless not above fawning for - the favor of the heir to the great rancho, indicated that they were on - Marshall’s side. - </p> - <p> - “Guess two can play at the hammering game,” remarked one. - </p> - <p> - “He don’t come any of his rough-house business over you, Marshall, while - I’m around,” affirmed another, pugnaciously. - </p> - <p> - But the young man, still without uttering a word, turned gloomily away and - started his pony in the direction of home. - </p> - <p> - “Guess he feels like another drink,” grinned an irreverent youth. - </p> - <p> - “Hell,” exclaimed an elderly man, the blacksmith at the rancho, “if the - Thurston family don’t beat the band for quarrels and bloody feuds!” - </p> - <p> - But just then a bunch of cattle broke from the main herd and the group of - cowboys dispersed in a galloping scamper. - </p> - <p> - Munson and the young ladies, engrossed in their light conversation, knew - nothing of this unpleasant episode. They were now discussing the date of - the projected visit to the home of Mr. Ricardo Robles among the oaks above - La Siesta. It was decided to fix it for the first Sunday after the cattle - muster was completed, when Dick Willoughby would be free to make one of - the party. - </p> - <p> - “But hold a moment,” exclaimed the lieutenant suddenly, “unless I’m to be - court-martialled for absence without leave, I must take the train East - next Saturday, or—or—” - </p> - <p> - His eyes fixed on Grace, he hesitated to complete the alternative. - </p> - <p> - “Or what?” she inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Follow Dick’s advice and send in my resignation.” As he spoke he thrust a - hand into his breast pocket and drew forth a letter, sealed, addressed and - stamped, all ready for the mail. “I really can’t quite make up my mind,” - he added, dubiously. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0155.jpg" alt="0155 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0155.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Let me help you,” said Grace with a gay smile as she extended her hand - for the letter. - </p> - <p> - “How?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll mail your resignation for you. We shall be riding home by La Siesta - postoffice.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Grace!” murmured Merle in timid protest. “Think of the responsibility - you are taking.” - </p> - <p> - “A woman’s mission in life is to encourage men to do the proper thing,” - replied Grace with roguish defiance. “Our friend here is enamored of the - West, and the West is the very best place for him. I’ll post your letter, - lieutenant.” - </p> - <p> - He placed it between her fingers, doffed his hat, and bowed gallantly. - </p> - <p> - “Be it so. Let the gods—or should I say, a fair goddess?—decide.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks for the compliment,” cried Grace, with a pretty flush on her face. - “Good-bye, then, for the present. Get ready for Sunday’s picnic among the - oaks. Come along, Merle, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - And with a touch of the quirt she started her pony into a canter. - </p> - <p> - “Great guns, but she’s worth while,” exclaimed Munson as he gazed after - the retreating figures. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII—Old Bandit Days - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N the evening of - the day that followed the big round-up of cattle, Dick Willoughby and - Chester Munson rode over to the store. As they cantered along, both men - were pre-occupied with their thoughts. - </p> - <p> - Dick was not worrying over his sharp passage of words with his employer’s - son, for he knew that his services at the present time were quite - indispensable, more especially if the rancho was to be sold to the best - advantage. The owner had spoken lightly of the negotiations, and had - chuckled in a sinister way about the money he had frequently made over - unexercised options. But this time it was a Los Angeles syndicate that was - seeking the property, composed of men whose financial reputation and keen - business ability Willoughby knew well. For he had learned their names - after his interview with Ben Thurston, and he felt certain that this - particular group of capitalists would have entered into no serious - negotiations without having both the cash and the intention to put the - deal through. Therefore he scented a change of ownership in the rancho, - and consequently, perhaps, the necessity for his looking around to find - employment elsewhere. He hated to think of leaving a place that he had - come to look on as home and parting from all the friends he had made - throughout the countryside. Unconsciously to himself, the greatest tie of - all was proximity to La Siesta and to Merle Farnsworth. But Dick was not - thinking of Merle just then—he was merely turning things over - generally in his mind as he rode across the valley. - </p> - <p> - Munson also was cogitating the change in his own outlook that had been - brought about by the mailing of the letter of resignation to army - headquarters. He was recalling the many years he had striven to reach the - lieutenancy now voluntarily surrendered—of his youthful zeal and - ambition for an army career which had been powerless to withstand the - witching call of the West. And although Grace Darlington’s act of putting - the letter in the post had been only the last feather to tip an evenly - balanced scale, he could not but feel that thereby this beautiful girl of - the West had entered into his life and into all his future plans, hopes, - and aspirations. The thought gave him joy; he was more pleased than ever - that the decisive step had at last been taken. - </p> - <p> - Arriving at the store, they found old Tom Baker seated on a dry goods box, - while Buck Ashley leaned against the counter, waiting for the stage coach - and the mails. Already two or three others were beginning to congregate - under the trees, in readiness for the distribution of letters and - newspapers. - </p> - <p> - “Hello, Dick,” called out the sheriff, “I heard of your scrap yesterday - morning with that young ne’er-do-well, Marshall Thurston. My God, I’m glad - you gave him hell.” - </p> - <p> - “Please don’t speak about it,” replied Willoughby quietly. “That was my - affair and mine alone. I guess we can find some more agreeable topic.” - </p> - <p> - “Wal,” drawled Buck Ashley, “Tom here was just a-tellin’ me a yarn that’ll - interest both you boys a heap, or the lieutenant at all events, for he’s - new to these parts and don’t know the local hist’ry yet. Of course I’ve - heard the story before, but not all the pertic’lars the way Tom can tell - ‘em. And its a dangnation good story. So start from the beginnin’ again, - Tom.” - </p> - <p> - Thus addressed, the sheriff, after taking a bite from his tobacco plug, - began: - </p> - <p> - “The yarn has to do with the old-time bandit Joaquin Murietta, about whom - we were speakin’ the other morn in’. Well, the way it all happened was - this: On a neighboring ranch, over Ventura way, beyond the Lagunita - Rancho, owned at that time by Senor Olivas, a rich cattle dealer comes - down from ‘Frisco to buy a bunch of beeves. The stock had all been driven - up on a mesa near the Olivas ranch house, and for several days the herders - had been cuttin’ out the cows and the young calves from the steers, ‘cause - this feller was only goin’ to buy the steers. - </p> - <p> - “The great herd was bellerin’ and pawin’ in a big cloud of dust, through - which the vaqueros—cowboys, you know, lieutenant—could be seen - ridin’ round and round. Of course roundin’ up cattle is always more or - less excitin’ work, but this rich chap had come down from ‘Frisco with his - saddle bags bulgin’ out with gold, and this sorta added a mighty sight to - the interest of the doin’s. Part of the bargain was that the deal was to - be for spot cash, all in gold, too, mind you, and it was arranged that the - buyer and Senor Olivas were to take their stations at one side of the - narrow gate, and every time a steer was driven through that gate a - twenty-dollar gold piece was to be tossed into a big bag which Senor - Olivas was holdin’. - </p> - <p> - “They do say as how the work continued all day, from early mornin’ until - dark, afore the last blamed steer passed that ‘ere gate, and they claim - that there was eighty thousand dollars in the Senor’s bag as pay for the - day’s drive. They say, too, that Joaquin Murietta, disguised, was one of - the vaqueros doin’ the drivin’. Anyway that very night old Olivas was - waked up mighty abruptly by feelin’ the cold nose of a revolver shoved - against his own nose. - </p> - <p> - “Well, the long and short of it all was that Senor Olivas and his wife - were both gagged and bound hand and foot, while Murietta ransacked the - house, found the strong box and carried away every blamed gold coin that - Olivas had received for the sale of his steers. The outlaw succeeded in - makin’ his escape into the Tehachapi mountains with his cut-throat gang, - and they found a hidin’ place in the robbers’ cave that is somewhere - hereabouts on the San Antonio Rancho. It sure was as slick a piece of - rascality as was ever pulled off in the old lawless days.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” observed Buck Ashley, as he shook his head reflectively, “I’m - assoomin’ some of the cowboy fellers around here will find that cave one - of these days. I’ve put in a good many Sundays huntin’ for it myself.” - </p> - <p> - Just then there was the sound of horses’ hoofs outside, and a moment later - Jack Rover strolled into the store. Over his shoulder was slung the big - leather bag for the rancho mails. - </p> - <p> - “Hallo, everybody,” was his greeting. “I’m ahead of time Buck, but the - stage will be here in five minutes. I saw its dust above the ridge. I - hear, lieutenant,” he went on, “you’re going to stick to the West and be - one of us.” - </p> - <p> - “Quit the army?” exclaimed Tom Baker in surprise. - </p> - <p> - “That is so,” replied Munson. “California has fairly got hold of me, and I - intend to make my home in the West.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you just stick here, young man,” said the sheriff, rising to his - feet and extending his hand. “California is the pick of the States, and - our valley the pick of California. Don’t you forget it. We’re proud to - welcome you as a new resident.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s what I say, too,” concurred Buck Ashley, cordially. - </p> - <p> - Munson smiled. “Well, I don’t know if you can put me in the resident class - all at once,” he observed, diffidently. “Guess I’ve got to join the cowboy - brigade first, if Dick and Jack here will break me in.” - </p> - <p> - “Sure thing,” assented Jack Hover. “You’re a good rider now—for an - army man.” - </p> - <p> - “An ex-army man,” corrected Willoughby, laughing. - </p> - <p> - “It strikes me we should put you in as postmaster, Munson,” suggested the - sheriff, a sly gleam of mischief in his eye. “Buck Ashley here is growin’ - old.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but not too old to hold down his job till your tombstone’s in the - cemetery, Tom Baker,” retorted the storekeeper, with a grin. “No man takes - the Tejon postmastership while I’m alive,” he added defiantly. - </p> - <p> - “I’m forewarned and won’t apply for your job, Buck,” laughed Munson. “But - here comes the stage, so show your spryness, old fellow, by getting us our - mail.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII—A Letter from San Quentin - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>UCK ASHLEY had - retired into the partitioned-off section of the store that formed the - postoffice, and was busy stamping and sorting out the mail. The scattered - loiterers outside crowded into the building expectantly, and the local - parliament was in session. Amid the buzz of conversation Willoughby could - not but hear his own name mentioned, coupled with that of Marshall - Thurston. He understood quite well that all manner of gossip was flying - around in regard to the quarrel at the round-up. But he remained stoically - indifferent, shut his ears, and leaning against the counter busied himself - with an old <i>Saturday Evening Post</i> that had been lying there. - </p> - <p> - At last the wicket was shoved up with a bang, and those present began to - move toward the little aperture through which Buck Ashley proceeded to - hand out correspondence and newspapers. One by one the throng melted away. - Jack Rover was examining the big bunch of mail for San Antonio Rancho as - he stowed it into the letter bag. Munson was opening and gleaning the - contents of two or three letters that had come to him from New York. Dick - Willoughby continued his reading, unconcerned; Jack would pass over any - correspondence for him. Old Tom Baker had not risen from his accustomed - seat on an empty box; he had few correspondents, and the mail did not - worry him, although he invariably assisted with his presence at its - distribution. - </p> - <p> - These four were now the only ones in the store besides Buck Ashley, who - still remained behind the partition. At last the postmaster appeared, - holding in his hand an open letter. His face showed great agitation as he - glanced around to take stock of those who might be present. - </p> - <p> - “Say, boys,” he whispered in a mysterious manner, as he held up the - letter, “this is the most dangnation extr’ornery thing that has ever - happened to me. You’re just the bunch of fellers I’d like to consult. - Close the door, Tom.” - </p> - <p> - “What’s up, Buck?” asked the sheriff as he rose to comply. “You look as if - you had the ague shakes.” - </p> - <p> - “No ague in this here land of California,” laughed Jack Rover. “Is it a - proposal of marriage you’ve been getting, Buck?” - </p> - <p> - “A derned heap better’n that. God ‘lmighty, boys, this may mean millions - for all of us. Shoot the bolt, Tom; I’ll hand out no more groceries - tonight. Come close together, all of you. You read the letter aloud, Dick. - My hand’s a-tremb-lin’, and I can’t get the Frenchie’s lingo just right.” - </p> - <p> - “The Frenchie?” echoed Tom Baker in puzzled surprise. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a letter from Pierre Luzon,” explained Buck. - </p> - <p> - “Good God!” The sheriff was now as deeply stirred as his old crony. - </p> - <p> - “The bandit scout you were telling us about the other morning?” exclaimed - Jack Rover, also fired with excitement. - </p> - <p> - “I thought that fellow was in San Quentin for life.” remarked Munson, - composedly. - </p> - <p> - “Wal, and ain’t this letter from San Quentin?” retorted Buck. “See the - headin’. But Dick’ll read it aloud. I feel clean knocked out.” And the old - man sank back on his chair behind the counter. - </p> - <p> - The four others were now clustered around Dick Willoughby. The latter, - deputized to do the reading, had nonchalantly taken the epistle from Buck - Ashley’s trembling hand. While the others were speaking he had bestowed a - preliminary glance, and from his lips there escaped a murmur of surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Great Caesar!” As he uttered the ejaculation Dick sat up, keenly alert. - </p> - <p> - “Well, what’s it all about?” inquired Munson, by this time the only cool - man in the bunch. - </p> - <p> - “Read, read!” cried the storekeeper hoarsely. - </p> - <p> - Dick Willoughby began: - </p> - <blockquote> - <p> - “Mr. Buck Ashley, Storekeeper, Tejon, California. - </p> - <p> - “If God in His goodness permits this letter to come to your hands, - remember it is from old Pierre, the Frenchman, who used to be about your - store sometimes a half a day at a time, smoking his pipe. You never knew - much about me or where I lived. But I will tell you. - </p> - <p> - “I am an old man now—very old. I was born in the South of France, - came to this country in the ‘40’. and entered into the service of Joaquin - Murietta, who was one great man, but a big bandit. Peace to his soul! - Well, he was good to me, and I was faithful to him, taking care of the - cave, the big grotto, the cavern among the Tehachapi mountains where he - many times hid from the sheriff’s posse, and also, where he brought all - his gold to stack up and keep from everybody. - </p> - <p> - “You also know Don Manuel, him whom the people call White Wolf. Well, once - when a boy, Don Manuel he save Marietta’s life from the sheriff by helping - him to escape from one close place. Murietta was very grateful, and one - day he bring the boy to the grotto cave, and there I see him and like him - very much. That was while Murietta still lived. - </p> - <p> - “Afterward when the little boy grow up and was one man, and turned bitter - against the gringos because they wrong his sister, Senorita Rosetta, and - his old father and mother die of grief, he say to me, ‘I will become a - bandit like Joaquin Murietta.’ He came to the cavern one night and tell me - and say, ‘You be my servant.’ So I say, ‘All right,’ because Don Manuel - one brave man. - </p> - <p> - “So that night of the great stage robbery over near Lake of Tulare, I hold - horses. That’s all I do, but all the same they put me in this horrid - prison, and here I am. The other two men, Felix Vasquez and Fox Cassidy, - were shot by the posse and I have been told by a Portugee in the jail here - about the White Wolf being killed away north in Seattle, and he is no - more. - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel de Valencia, he was one great man. Peace to his soul! - </p> - <p> - “I am alone. I want to get away from this terrible prison. I have promised - one of my guards—a good Frenchman who comes from my town in France—$5,000 - in gold if he can secretly get this letter into postoffice to you and get - me away from this living hell. You do this and I show you the cavern. - Nobody knows where it is but me. - </p> - <p> - “Come and get me, please, my good Mr. Ashley, come, and may the spirit of - the Virgin Mary reward you. All I say here is truth. You come get me and I - show you the secret grotto. I show you the great stacks of gold hidden by - Joaquin Murietta and Don Manuel. Also the sand-bar in the hidden stream - where Guadalupe gathered up much gold. - </p> - <p> - “I beg and pray you to keep what I say in this letter secret. I am old and - weak and sick. Come and get me. - </p> - <p> - “Obedient servant, - </p> - <p> - “Pierre Luzon.” - </p> -</blockquote> - <p> - “Ain’t that just one hell of a letter, boys?” exclaimed Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “Gospel truth, every word,” cried Tom Baker, emphatically. - </p> - <p> - “It certainly reads like the truth,” concurred Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Then what are we going to do about it?” asked Jack Rover. - </p> - <p> - Dick Willoughby spoke now with the quiet and quick decision that marks the - leader of men: - </p> - <p> - “What we will do is this. We five are partners in this secret, and, if - Buck is willing, we’ll play the game together for all it is worth. To - begin with, we’ll put up one hundred dollars apiece to send Tom Baker to - Sacramento. He will try to get a pardon or a parole for Pierre Luzon.” - </p> - <p> - “That can be managed,” assented the sheriff. “I’ve got a political pull, - you know, boys.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” continued Dick, “we’ll bring old Pierre here and we’ll get from - him the information he promises about the secret grotto.” - </p> - <p> - “Not forgetting Guadalupe’s placer mine,” interjected Jack Rover. - </p> - <p> - “Everything will be attended to in its turn,” replied Dick. “One thing at - a time, and the first thing to be done is to get the Frenchman out of San - Quentin. When can you start, Tom?” - </p> - <p> - “The day after tomorrow.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we’ll have the cash ready for you by tomorrow night. You must bring - Pierre Luzon here without anyone else besides ourselves knowing his name - or getting next to him.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll fix up a cot for him in my own room behind the store,” suggested - Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “That’s a good plan,” assented Dick. “When the Frenchman’s here, it will - be time then to discuss our next move. Meanwhile, it’s an honorable - promise of secrecy all round, and to begin with I give my word.” - </p> - <p> - While speaking the last words, Dick solemnly raised his hand, and each man - in turn followed his example as he gave the pledge required. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX—Tia Teresa - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>EN days had passed - and the count of the stock on San Antonio Rancho had been completed, every - canyon searched, the last wandering maverick roped and branded, the number - of fat beeves accurately estimated. Three members of the Los Angeles - syndicate had arrived in a big automobile and remained over night at the - ranch house. Most of the time they had been closeted with Ben Thurston in - his office, and had finally taken their departure without exchanging a - word with anyone else on the rancho. Nobody knew whether the deal had gone - through or not, but rumor said that, after some disagreement on the first - day, terms had been arranged next morning. - </p> - <p> - Dick Willoughby, although he discussed the question with no one, made his - own inferences. The very fact that the visitors had not made any - inspection of the property proved that they already knew it thoroughly - well. The counting of the cattle and horses had been the final factor in - the negotiations, and the figures had enabled the deal to advance a - further stage toward completion. Ben Thurston might fool himself about - easy option money put up only to be forfeited, but Dick Willoughby was not - fooled. The days of closer settlement in California had come, and these - Los Angeles men were the most enterprising and skilful subdividers in the - West. They dealt only in big propositions, and after mopping up all the - available tracts in the southern end of the State, were extending their - operations northward. This vast so-called “Spanish grant,” an empire in - itself, had no doubt for several years been in their eye, and now they - were prepared to handle the San Antonio Rancho with the lavish expenditure - it deserved and required to transform the great sweep of cattle range—rich - agricultural land, as the luxuriant native grasses showed—into - smiling orchards and alfalfa farms, each provided with the irrigation - water which intelligent conservation would ensure in abundance. - </p> - <p> - Dick knew in his heart that the era of transformation had at last come, - that the roaming herds were to be pushed back into regions more remote, - that homes and schoolhouses and garden cities would soon be dotting the - landscape, that the passing of Ben Thurston, the cattle king, and of his - hard-riding, devil-may-care vaqueros was at hand. - </p> - <p> - Yet Thurston spoke no word—in fact, he seemed to be more grouchy and - taciturn than ever. Not even his son Marshall was in his confidence, for - the young man was seldom with his father, preferring to spend his time in - the drinking saloons and dance halls of Bakersfield, where the activity of - oil-developing operations attracted all sorts and conditions of men, among - whom the dissipated decadent had readily found friends to his liking. - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston who had gone the pace himself in his early days, did not seek - to interfere with his son’s pursuit of pleasures, but he had very promptly - squelched any interference from Marshall with his own business operations. - On the evening of the quarrel with Dick Willoughby at the round-up, - Marshall had attempted to tell his father about the affair and suggest - Dick’s dismissal. But the old man had at once silenced him by saying: - “Why, damn you! I brought you out to this country to enjoy yourself and - not to get into trouble. So far as Willoughby is concerned, I can’t afford - to quarrel with him. He is my foreman, and I am right in the midst of a - big business transaction. So just you mind your own business, my boy, and - leave him alone.” - </p> - <p> - Accordingly, Marshall Thurston, a coward at heart, had not sought to - pursue the feud singlehanded, and Dick had seen but little of him during - the rest of the mustering work. When they did happen to meet, it was a - case of a black scowl of hate from the one and a contemptuous smile of - indifference from the other. And so the days had passed until the task was - finished. - </p> - <p> - It was the Sunday morning that had been fixed for the visit to the home of - Mr. Ricardo Robles, when the cattle foreman could at last conscientiously - take a day of recreation. With the first break of dawn he and Munson were - in the saddle, for they had been invited to breakfast at La Siesta before - starting with the young ladies on the ride through the oak forest. - </p> - <p> - The visitors arrived early, but not too early for their hostesses. Grace - and Merle were waiting to welcome them in the portico, looking more - charming than ever in their neat riding suits of khaki. - </p> - <p> - “We saw you cross the bridge,” declared Grace, “and mother has gone in to - order breakfast to be served. You must be hungry after your early start.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Sing Ling didn’t let us go without a cup of coffee,” laughed Dick. - “But I fancy we’ll do full justice, all right, to the bountiful fare of La - Siesta.” - </p> - <p> - It proved to be a delightful meal in every way, the viands seasoned with - gay repartee and laughter. A full hour had sped before Dick recalled the - real object of the day’s excursion. - </p> - <p> - “We usually walk to Mr. Robles’ place,” remarked Merle. “It is only a mile - or so by the short cuts up the hill, but by the winding road it is very - much longer. So we ordered our ponies.” - </p> - <p> - “I see,” smiled Munson, “to prolong the pleasure of our foursome among the - oaks.” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all, sir,” retorted Grace. “The climb on foot is a stiff one, and - we knew that you must be out of condition from the lazy life you are - living.” - </p> - <p> - “I am only waiting for Willoughby to give me a cowboy’s job,” replied the - ex-lieutenant. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know if there will be any cowboy jobs going,” observed - Willoughby. “It’s my belief that San Antonio Rancho is sold and is going - to be broken up into small holdings.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, what a pity!” exclaimed Merle. - </p> - <p> - “From one point of view, perhaps,” answered Dick. “But from a hundred - other points of view, what a blessing! There will be a dozen happy homes - for every steer the range now feeds!” - </p> - <p> - “But La Siesta will remain just as it is,” cried Grace. - </p> - <p> - “That will be all right,” replied Dick, gallantly, “It’s already a happy - home.” - </p> - <p> - The ladies smiled pleasantly. - </p> - <p> - “Then this will mean the elimination of Mr. Ben Thurston,” observed Mrs. - Darlington. - </p> - <p> - “The greatest blessing of all,” declared Merle, clapping her hands. “You - see, I am already converted to the change, Mr. Willoughby,” she added - merrily. - </p> - <p> - “But what about my job?” asked Munson in mock dolefulness. - </p> - <p> - “Consult Mr. Robles,” laughed Grace. “He may take pity on you, and find - you a place as handy man on his estate.” - </p> - <p> - In merry mood they all sallied forth. The saddle horses were waiting, and - standing beside them was an elderly Spanish woman. - </p> - <p> - “Tia Teresa, Mr. Munson,” said Mrs. Darlington by way of introduction. - </p> - <p> - Munson had often enough heard the name, and in answer to an inquiry, - Willoughby had told him that the old dame had been the personal attendant - of the two young ladies ever since they could remember. Tia or Aunt Teresa - was now more a friend of the family than a servant of the house, and, - taking her hand in salutation, Munson treated her with the affable - courtesy that was her due. - </p> - <p> - “I am glad to make your acquaintance,” he said, raising his hat. - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa looked pleased. Despite her seventy years, she was a buxom and - splendidly preserved woman, and there was still the flash of youthfulness - in her big dark eyes. - </p> - <p> - “You will look after my little girls,” she said, as she gathered together - the folds of her black lace mantilla. “By rights I should be coming with - you, too,” she added, in the manner of a true Spanish duenna. - </p> - <p> - “You forget that we are home again—in free America,” laughed Merle - as she settled herself in the saddle. - </p> - <p> - “Too free, I sometimes think,” rejoined Tia Teresa. “But there is safety - in four,” she added, turning with a smile to Mrs. Darlington. - </p> - <p> - And as the young folks rode away she waved them a pleasant <i>adios</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—The Home of the Recluse - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>T a gentle pace - they wound their way through the forest of magnificent old oaks. - </p> - <p> - As for Munson, riding by Grace Darlington’s side, the miles were the - shortest he had ever before traversed. It seemed only a few minutes before - the red tiled roof and towers of a house built in the California Mission - style were gleaming through the trees only a short distance ahead. - </p> - <p> - Great oaken doors closed the arched gateway, but at the clatter of hoofs - and the sound of voices, a little peep-hole wicket was withdrawn. The - inspection by unseen eyes apparently was satisfactory, for a moment later - a postern was opened, and two men, Mexicans obviously by their garb and - deferential manner, emerged to take and lead away the horses. Within the - patio stood Senor Robles, his usually grave face lighted by a smile of - cordial welcome. - </p> - <p> - “Let me tell you, young men,” he said while shaking hands, “that while - Grace and Merle are quite at home here, you are the very first strangers - who have passed through my portals.” - </p> - <p> - “Strangers no longer then,” said Dick, good-naturedly. - </p> - <p> - “Precisely,” replied Mr. Robles, “or you would not be here. But I foresee - that all of us are going to be very close friends. Isn’t that so, Grace, - my dear?” - </p> - <p> - “I’m sure I cannot say,” replied Grace, with a smile of demure innocence - toward Mr. Munson. Then she turned to Mr. Robles with a roguish twinkle in - her eye. “But I’ve news for you. Mr. Munson has resigned from the army and - is looking for a job.” - </p> - <p> - “Both facts are already known to me,” answered Robles, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” exclaimed Grace, “one can never surprise you, Mr. Robles. Although - you live the life of a hermit, you seem to be always the first to learn - everything that is going on.” - </p> - <p> - “A hermit, my dear, need not necessarily be out of touch with the world,” - replied Robles, playfully pinching her ear. “And now, Mr. Willoughby, you - came specially to see my pictures. Lead the way, Merle. Gentlemen, I say - again—welcome to my mountain home.” - </p> - <p> - They lingered awhile in the patio to admire the marble columns of the - cloister that ran all around, the playing fountains at each of the four - comers, with groups of symbolical statuary, the wealth of beautiful shrubs - and flowers. On the side opposite to the gateway rose a tall tower, - fashioned like the campanile of an Old Mission and crowned with bright red - tiles. - </p> - <p> - “We shall ascend there later on,” remarked Mr. Robles, following Dick’s - upward glance. - </p> - <p> - Then they passed through the wide-opened French window into the living - rooms. - </p> - <p> - The first was a great apartment that occupied one entire side of the - building. In the centre was a large globe of the world. Here and there - were glass cases displaying manuscripts and illuminated missals. Along the - walls were finely-carved bookcases filled with several thousands of - volumes. - </p> - <p> - “When you have the leisure you can come and browse here,” said the host, - addressing both young men. “Meanwhile you may care to look at the bronzes - and statuary”—this with a sweep of the hand that indicated the art - treasures distributed about the apartment. - </p> - <p> - On the side of the house beneath the tower were the dining room and the - billiard and smoking room. Passing through these, the visitors came to the - picture gallery, a room corresponding in size to the library. Here were - hung treasures of the painter’s art, masterpieces signed by names that are - immortal. These, as their owner again explained, had been acquired by him - during several prolonged visits to Europe. - </p> - <p> - “Count this just as a preliminary survey, Mr. Willoughby,” he said - finally. “Then come again. There are guest chambers on either side of the - gateway, and one of these will always be at your disposal when I am at - home. I extend the same invitation to you, Mr. Munson.” - </p> - <p> - “My word, but you may feel honored,” exclaimed Grace, in unconcealed - amazement. - </p> - <p> - “When I open my gates, I open my heart as well,” said Mr. Robles, with a - courtly little bow to his new friends. - </p> - <p> - Next they ascended the tower. Its first floor, above the living rooms, was - a delightful den filled with curios of all kinds. From this sprang a - winding iron staircase, up which Mr. Robles led the way. - </p> - <p> - The upper chamber, extending on all sides some distance beyond the - supporting tower, proved larger than might have been expected. Its one - conspicuous article of furniture was a great terrestrial telescope. The - sliding panels of glass which formed a complete window all around the room - showed that the instrument could be used without obstruction in any - direction. - </p> - <p> - Here a Mexican boy was on duty. When the visitors entered, his hand was - resting on the telescope. A bright red sash around his waist imparted a - touch of picturesqueness to his costume. He was perhaps only twelve or - thirteen years of age, but wonderfully keen and alert-looking for his - years. At a glance from his master, the youngster took his departure, - closing the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - “Gentlemen,” remarked Mr. Robles, when they were again alone, “perhaps - before I brought you here I should have exacted the promise I am now going - to ask you to make. Grace and Merle know that I am a recluse and wish to - live undisturbed by curiosity-mongers or tittle-tattlers. I want nobody - but the friends I deliberately choose to know about my habits of living or - the contents of my home. Only in this way can I hope to be left alone. - Therefore, please give me your word, Mr. Willoughby and Lieutenant Munson, - that you will not speak with any outsider about the things I am showing - you today.” - </p> - <p> - The promise was instantly given and sealed by a hearty hand clasp. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” resumed the host in lighter tone, “perhaps you would like to view - the landscape. I may explain that I had this observatory, as I call it, - specially built and equipped so that I could sweep the valley from end to - end. For example, I saw you two young men riding along the road this - morning,” he went on, with a smile. “I saw one of you alight, about twelve - miles from here—it was you, lieutenant—and tighten the girths - of your saddle.” - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott!” murmured Munson, in half-incredulous surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Test the glass for yourself,” continued Robles, as, placing one eye at - the lens, he adjusted the instrument. “Look”—and he stepped back, - motioning Munson to approach. - </p> - <p> - Munson peeped through the long tube and there came from his lips a cry of - mingled delight and amazement. - </p> - <p> - “Dick, Dick, there’s the store as large as life—Buck Ashley standing - at the door and lighting a cigar. Geewhizz, and it must be twenty miles - away.” - </p> - <p> - He rose erect and made room for Dick. The latter gazed in silence for a - few moments. When he turned to Mr. Robles he said: - </p> - <p> - “It’s really wonderful—it is the most wonderful glass I ever looked - through.” - </p> - <p> - There was the glimmer of an exultant smile on the face of Ricardo Robles. - </p> - <p> - “I saw you at the round-up across the valley the other day,” he remarked. - “You were much nearer to me than is the store. And while I do not invite - any confidence, Mr. Willoughby, you certainly engaged in a very spirited - conversation, to say the least, with young Marshall Thurston. Indeed, I - half expected to see you come to blows.” - </p> - <p> - “What was that?” asked Merle in some trepidation. - </p> - <p> - Willoughby had reddened. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing of consequence,” he responded, almost curtly. “I had to tell the - young cub to mind his own business. That was all.” - </p> - <p> - “You certainly have the whole valley under observation,” remarked Munson, - considerately diverting the conversation. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” assented Mr. Robles, with an almost grim smile of satisfaction. - “The telescope teaches one not merely to observe, but to reason from the - facts observed. Tia Teresa evidently thought that she should have come - along today to play duenna, eh, Merle?” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t say you guessed that?” exclaimed Merle in great astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “Guessed it! I knew it when she raised her protesting finger.” - </p> - <p> - “You are a magician, Mr. Robles,” cried Grace. - </p> - <p> - “No, only a logician,” was the sententious rejoinder. - </p> - <p> - “Please let me peep at our garden,” asked Merle. “I wonder if mother is - among her roses.” - </p> - <p> - Without a word Robles swung round the instrument on its pivot and changed - the focus. - </p> - <p> - “That’s about right,” he said, stepping back. “There is no one out of - doors at present. Move the glass slightly and you can see over the entire - garden.” - </p> - <p> - Each girl in turn made a prolonged scrutiny; they were enchanted with the - clearness and marvellous detail of the picture. - </p> - <p> - “Henceforth we’ll have to be on our best behavior, Dick,” laughed Munson, - as they turned toward the winding stairway. “We’ve got to remember Mr. - Robles has a constant eye on us.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I’ve had you under observation quite a while,” laughed the senor, - tapping the young fellow on the shoulder. - </p> - <p> - Then he threw open the door, and, with a slight bow and extended hand, - motioned to his visitors to descend. At the foot of the narrow, winding - staircase they found the Mexican youth standing on guard. He bowed low as - the ladies passed, and when Mr. Robles followed last of all, saluted, and - then immediately returned to the chamber above, again without a single - word of instruction from his master. Munson and Willoughby exchanged - meaning looks; obviously a well-disciplined outlook was kept from the - observatory all the time, as if from the conning-tower of a battleship. - </p> - <p> - Again the party was in the patio. Mr. Robles turned to Willoughby. - </p> - <p> - “I hope Grace and Merle have explained to you that at present I do not - entertain. My own fare is of the simplest.” - </p> - <p> - “Mother is to have luncheon ready at one,” interposed Grace. “I caught the - broiled trout myself this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “You caught them ready broiled, eh?” laughed Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you know what I mean,” rejoined Grace, with a pretty little <i>moue</i>. - </p> - <p> - “Broiled trout!” exclaimed Dick, appreciatively. “Then I think we’ll be - hurrying down the hill, senor.” He had recognized with intuitive courtesy - that the interview was at an end. - </p> - <p> - “Is he not delightful?” asked Merle, as their horses started off at a - walk. “And you would never guess how sweet and kind he can be.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t doubt it,” assented Willoughby. “A polished gentleman, but a man - of mystery, isn’t he?” - </p> - <p> - “Not when you come to know him. A recluse always has his little - idiosyncrasies.” As she spoke, she set her pony at a canter down the - gentle incline. - </p> - <p> - After luncheon, Dick found himself tête-à-tête with Mrs. Darlington in the - music room. The mystery attaching to the personality of the recluse was - still uppermost in his mind. But for the present the music claimed his - attention. - </p> - <p> - Merle had seated herself at the grand piano and was softly fingering the - keys, striking a chord here and there, until finally she drifted into - Chopin’s Fifth Nocturne. There was something almost divine in her - interpretation. The music fairly rippled from her deft fingers, as they - glided on from one beautiful cadence to another until at last, note by - note, as if sobbing a reluctant adieu, the melody died away. - </p> - <p> - Both the visitors were generous in their tributes of congratulation. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” said Merle, as she arose from the piano and proceeded to - unfasten the clasps of a violin case. - </p> - <p> - “What now?” exclaimed Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I am not the performer; I am merely the accompanist,” and she held - out a beautiful old violin to Grace. As Merle sounded a key on the piano, - Grace touched the strings of the Stradivarius. When all was ready she - tenderly caressed the violin with her chin, and, her bow sweeping across - the instrument, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata trembled from the strings, in - soft and plaintive melody, filling the room with echoing and re-echoing - notes of sweetness, while Merle’s accompanying notes lent support, in - blending harmony, to the rich cadences. - </p> - <p> - “Splendid! magnificent!” exclaimed the young men in unison. - </p> - <p> - Munson was now called upon to sing, and Dick felt himself at full liberty - to converse with Mrs. Darlington. He broached the subject that had been - occupying his thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “What is known of Senor Ricardo Robles?” he enquired. “Have you been long - acquainted?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I have known him for many, many years,” replied Mrs. Darlington. “We - used to be next door neighbors in Los Angeles. That was twenty years ago. - Then we returned to England—Mr. Darlington had fallen heir to the - family estates. Mr. Robles used to visit us off and on. He is, as you have - seen, very fond of Grace”—she paused a moment, then went on—“and - of my adopted daughter Merle as well. Merle, you know, was the child of my - dearest girl friend who died a year after her baby was born.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Merle has told me this.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, six years ago my dear husband died, and it was Mr. Robles who - persuaded me to return to California. He selected this beautiful ranch for - us, near to his own home. And we have all been so happy here at La - Siesta.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Robles is certainly a wonderful man, with all those art treasures - around him.” - </p> - <p> - “He has princely tastes and princely wealth as well—this you will - have seen for yourself today. He travels a great deal abroad, sometimes - for a whole year at a time, and then returns quietly to his hermitage. He - has taken a great fancy to you, Mr. Willoughby. You are lucky in gaining - the friendship of such a man.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I’ll like him, too—when I know him better,” replied - Willoughby, with cautious reserve. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI—A Rejected Suitor - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N Dick - Willoughby’s presence Marshall Thurston contented himself with sullen - looks. But beyond his sight and hearing he spoke truculently of what he - was going to do some day to get level with “the hired hand who had had the - infernal insolence to call him down in public.” So all the little world on - the rancho knew, or at least believed, that a bitter feud was in progress. - </p> - <p> - Two or three of the cowboys fostered young Marshall’s feelings of - animosity, partly out of sheer devilment, partly because they deemed it - good policy to keep in the good graces of the heir to the rancho. - Moreover, so long as old Ben Thurston knew nothing about it, they were - always willing to break a bottle with the dissipated spendthrift, not only - because good liquor was not to be despised at any time, but also for the - sake of the amusement afforded by Marshall, in his cups, with his stories - of fast life in New York and his apparently inexhaustible fund of highly - spiced anecdotes. Even his braggart threats against Willoughby had an - element of fun. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you cut him out with the girl?” one of his boon companions had - suggested on an occasion of this kind. - </p> - <p> - “By gad, I will,” Marshall had responded with vehemence. “You just watch - me.” - </p> - <p> - Thenceforward this thought was uppermost in his alcohol-sodden brain. - </p> - <p> - Marshall Thurston had met Mrs. Darlington and her daughter on several - occasions, but, although he had been formally introduced, he had never - been invited to call at La Siesta. Nor up to the present had he felt any - inducement to take the initiative. Like clings to like, and these people - were not of his kind—in the presence of pure and refined womanhood - the human toad becomes uncomfortably conscious of his own loathsomeness. - </p> - <p> - But now there was a valid reason to egg him on. He would show Dick - Willoughby who was who on the San Antonio Rancho. If the heir to all those - broad acres chose to pay court to Merle Farnsworth, the girl would only be - too glad to jump at him and his millions. He would tell her, too, that - Willoughby was going to be fired and that the fellow was not worth a - moment’s consideration. - </p> - <p> - Such was his mood one afternoon when, his motor car being in the repair - shop, he had not made his usual trip to Bakersfield. “Yes, he would ride - over that very day to La Siesta;” and he proceeded to fortify the resolve - by opening a bottle of champagne in the solitary seclusion of his den. - After gulping down the wine he felt brave enough to face the devil - himself. Yet, when mounted on his horse, he still evinced sufficient - discretion to make a wide detour lest Willoughby should catch sight of him - and divine his intentions. - </p> - <p> - As he rode along young Thurston nursed his wrath to keep it warm. At the - same time the desire to possess the girl for her own sake began to inflame - his imagination. Unscrupulous passion had been bred in the very bone of - this worthless degenerate. Just as his father, Ben Thurston, had thirty - years before trampled on the virtue of the young Spanish beauty, Senorita - Rosetta, the sister of Don Manuel, so now was the son hatching in his - brain a foul plot of spoliation. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll get even with Willoughby, by God, in the very way that will hurt his - pride the most. Women!—pshaw, they’re all alike. And she’s a - peacherino all right—those flashing dark eyes—she sure looks - good to me.” This was now the tenor of his musing as his pony cantered up - the slope to La Siesta. - </p> - <p> - He advanced on foot to the portico with a swagger and a smile, and there, - as luck would have it, he found Merle seated in a rocker, reading, and - alone. She rose with quiet courtesy and returned his greeting. - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry,” she said, “mother is not at home. She and my sister Grace - have driven over to the dairy. We have a model dairy, you know, on La - Siesta,” she went on, anxious to make conversation that would not prove - embarrassing. For already she divined some particular object in the young - man’s visit, knowing as she did that he and Willoughby had recently - exchanged angry words. - </p> - <p> - “Won’t you show me your famous rose gardens?” asked Thurston, boldly. - </p> - <p> - “With pleasure,” she replied, assenting with a sweet smile of politeness, - although there was sore reluctance in her heart, as she stepped from under - the portico. - </p> - <p> - But, unknown to herself, she did not go unattended, for as Merle and her - visitor passed round the house and through the shrubberies there glided - after them the figure of a woman, clothed in black, wearing over her head - and shoulders a Spanish mantilla. It was Tia Teresa, the ever watchful - duenna. - </p> - <p> - The roses of La Siesta, as Marshall Thurston had said, were indeed famous. - Here were all the finest varieties, growing in the perfection to which - only care and scientific skill applied under ideal climatic conditions can - attain. Merle was glad to point out the different blooms and give them - their names—the topic was certainly an innocuous one, and she smiled - at the thought as they strolled along. She was vaguely wondering, too, - whether Dick Willoughby would approve even this slight measure of courtesy - toward the visitor to her home. Although she had as yet not the remotest - conception that the quarrel at the round-up had been in any way connected - with her name, she knew that the two young men were at daggers drawn, and - toward Dick there was the instinctive loyalty in her heart that prompted - her to count his enemies as her enemies, his friends as her friends. - </p> - <p> - The young girl was too unversed in the ways of the world to notice that - Marshall Thurston was under the influence of wine. He was too experienced - a toper to show any signs of unsteadiness on his feet, but all the same - there was undoubted tipsiness in his leering side-glances and occasional - slurring of his words. Of this Merle in her maidenly innocence was - supremely unconscious, nor did she dream that the very sparkle of her eyes - was completing the intoxication of wine fumes. - </p> - <p> - Once she cast a look up the hill and asked herself whether the wizard of - the red-tiled tower had his spy-glass on La Siesta and was even then - quietly surveying the scene in the gardens. The thought made her - uncomfortable; she felt sure that her kind friend, Mr. Robles, would not - look with favor on her condescending to show even the slightest attention - to one whose evil ways of living were notorious. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly she came to a halt, close beside a little clump of oleander trees - laden with rich blossoms. - </p> - <p> - “I am sorry I must leave you now,” she said, quite abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “Leave me?” stammered Thurston. “What for?” - </p> - <p> - “I have other things to attend to,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I say, Miss Farnsworth”—the inebriate as he spoke made a - gesture of appeal—“I hope you are not angry with me. If that - scalawag of a fellow Willoughby told you I said anything disrespectful of - you the other day, he is a demed liar—that’s what he is, a derned - liar, and a poor penniless beggar as well, whom my father’s going to fire - off the ranch.” - </p> - <p> - Merle stood speechless. She stepped back when Thurston advanced with - outstretched hands. - </p> - <p> - “The truth of the whole matter is,” he rambled on, with growing - incoherence, “I am madly in love with you myself. That’s what I am, and - I’m going to have you, too.” And he grabbed her fiercely and attempted to - draw her to him. - </p> - <p> - Merle screamed both in fear and in repulsion as she tried to push him - away. - </p> - <p> - Just then, from among the oleanders, rushed Tia Teresa. The old duenna - came like a cyclone. Her eyes blazed with anger. Grasping the young - libertine by the collar of his coat, she pulled him madly from the now - half-fainting girl. Then, whirling him around, she rushed him, with the - strength and ferocity of a tigress defending her whelps, down the - gravelled path and flung him bodily over the low retaining wall along the - embankment that separated the rose gardens from the public road. She spat - upon his prostrate figure below and rained down on him a torrent of - imprecations in the Spanish tongue. - </p> - <p> - It was all over in one brief minute. When young Thurston picked himself - up, it was to see the aged fury half-leading, half-carrying Merle away in - the direction of the house. - </p> - <p> - “The hell cat,” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - Then he brushed the dirt from his coat and straightened out his tumbled - appearance as best he could. His horse was tied to the gate post a hundred - yards along the road. He slunk toward it, climbed into the saddle, and - rode slowly away in the falling twilight. He had been thoroughly sobered - by the incident, yet continued somewhat dazed, for his horse was headed - toward the woods and hills and not in the direction of home. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII—The Sped Bullet - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>EANWHILE events - had been happening in the conning tower high up among the hills. The - Mexican boy on duty had observed the lone rider approaching the gateway at - La Siesta, and for a brief few moments had put the figure under - observation by the telescope. He had then sprung alertly erect and pressed - a button on the wall. Mr. Robles had quickly responded to the summons, and - it was he who had had his eye to the lens during the scene in the rose - garden which had terminated in the ignominious expulsion of young Thurston - at the hands of the infuriated duenna. - </p> - <p> - When the recluse at last withdrew his gaze, his hands were clenched and he - stood absolutely rigid in the tenseness of his indignation. He had seen - Merle’s insultor ride toward the hills and Merle herself taken indoors - under Tia Teresa’s protecting care. For almost a minute the storm of rage - held him, then he relaxed and his look changed to one of terrible - determination. He seized a rifle that was hanging on one of the walls and - swiftly departed. - </p> - <p> - At the arched gateway he spoke a few words to the two retainers on guard, - and when he passed through the postern one of them, also equipped with a - rifle, followed. Taking a cross-cut from the high road, together they - descended the wooded hillside. - </p> - <p> - In a little canyon just below the forest Dick Willoughby was rounding up a - bunch of vagrant steers. He was alone, riding at a walking pace, driving a - dozen or more beasts in front of him, and keeping an eye among the - brushwood searching for more. - </p> - <p> - On the roadway through the woods Marshall Thurston ambled along. He was a - poor and awkward rider at all times, the discreetly-veiled jest of the - nimble cowboys, to whom reins, saddle, and spurs were all as second - nature. Now, when he imagined himself free from observation, he did not - take pains to display even a semblance of horsemanship and, with bridle - dropped, steadied himself by a grip on the saddle horn. - </p> - <p> - In her bedroom Merle had soon recovered from her distress of mind. Dashing - the tears from her eyes, she had enjoined Tia Teresa to say nothing to - anyone about the unpleasant incident. Mrs. Darlington would be angered and - would certainly tell Mr. Robles, while if the story ever reached Dick’s - ears there could be no saying what further trouble might not ensue—a - horse-whipping at least, with jeopardy to Dick’s position at the rancho - and embitterment of an already dangerous quarrel. So Tia Teresa, to - complete the comforting process, had assented to secrecy. - </p> - <p> - On the pathway down through the forest the Mexican, now in advance, - uttered a low “hist,” halted, and held out a warning hand toward his - master. The gaze of both was now fixed in the same direction. Below them - could be seen the figure of the horseman coming around a bend in the - roadway. The Mexican raised his rifle to the shoulder, but the hand of - Robles detained him. The time was not yet—the distance was too great - in view of the obstructing timber. - </p> - <p> - Robles turned away and rested an arm against a tree trunk. His eyes were - downcast; for the moment his mind was far away. He saw once again the - little cemetery on the hill, with the marble cross inscribed “Hermana,” - and the other gravestone at the head of the twin mounds that marked the - resting place of his parents whose hearts had been broken by Rosetta’s - tragic end. The fingers of the man who had long years ago sworn the - vendetta worked nervously, closing and unclosing themselves. - </p> - <p> - The rider was nearer now, in a higher loop of the road where the trees - were more scattered than below. Merle, drowsy from the reaction of her - emotions, had dropped off asleep on her sofa. Tia Teresa had returned to - the portico, to make sure that the interloper had taken himself off for - good and would not return. In the little canyon Dick Willoughby was - quietly riding behind his accumulating drove of cattle. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly a shot from among the woods rang through the air. Tia Teresa - heard it, and after the start of first surprise, into her eyes came the - light of swift comprehension and her whole face was illumed by fierce - vindictive joy. “At last, at last,” she murmured, “vengeance begins.” And - in the fervor of her triumph she threw up her extended arms, as if to give - benediction to a righteous deed. - </p> - <p> - Dick also heard the sharp detonation which his experienced ear knew at - once to be from a rifle, not from the shot-gun that some sportsman after - quail or rabbits might have been using. He betrayed no great surprise—just - the unspoken word “curious” hovered on his lips as, halting his horse, he - turned in his saddle to glance upward in the direction whence the sound - had come. Then after a moment he wheeled the pony round, and, abandoning - his drove for the present, ascended at a leisurely pace the narrow pathway - which he knew communicated with the winding highroad above. - </p> - <p> - When the bullet had reached its fated billet, Marshall Thurston’s fingers - were still gripping the saddle horn. And right there the missile of death - struck, glancing upward from the metal crown and piercing the victim right - through the heart. Not a cry—just an outflung arm, a swaying figure - slipping down onto the roadway, and a terrified riderless horse pivoting - quickly round on its haunches, then galloping madly for home. - </p> - <p> - Dick, glancing upward through the timber, caught a glimpse of the fleeing - steed, and he touched his own pony with the spur so that it, too, darted - forward. - </p> - <p> - Farther along the road Tia Teresa heard the clatter of the hoofs and saw - the animal in its swift stride disappear in the direction of the rancho. - She knew now for certain that her surmise was correct, and the first flush - of triumph on her fact settled down into an expression of grim - satisfaction. “It served him right in any case.” she muttered. “It was - just what the young villain deserved.” Then she re-entered the house and - passed upstairs. Her young mistress was placidly asleep, smiling in her - dreams. The duenna nodded her head in a satisfied sort of way; Merle would - learn the news at the proper time, and would not meanwhile be agitated by - wild conjectures. So she tiptoed from the room, and was soon busied with - domestic duties as if nothing had happened. - </p> - <p> - Dick, emerging on foot from the last steep ascent of the canyon, promptly - swung himself again into the saddle and started at a loping canter up the - winding roadway through the woods. After rounding the first comer he spied - the huddled figure on the ground. Before he turned the body over he knew - that the man was dead. But when the dead face looked up at his, it was - with a terrible shock of surprise that he recognized Marshall Thurston. - </p> - <p> - Dick stood for a few moments, gazing around in utter bewilderment. One - hand of the dead man was shattered and bloody, while a big splurge of red - on the shirt showed where the bullet had completed its work. Murder—palpable - murder! But who could have done this deed? Who had any valid motive to rid - the world of this stray piece of humanity—and in such coldblooded - manner, not in the heat of some angry quarrel, but by a deliberate act of - assassination in a place so lonely as these pine-clad hills? Dick sat him - down by the roadside and pondered these questions. - </p> - <p> - There was no real pity in his heart. Young Thurston had been utterly bad—not - big-brained enough to belong to the social dregs, but just equally - worthless scum, the more repellent because it made itself visible all the - time. He would pass almost without a tear except from the father whose own - record had been so foully besmeared that there could be scant sympathy - even for him in the hour of his bereavement. - </p> - <p> - Dick just wondered and wondered. For the time being he had quite forgotten - that old legend—the Vendetta of the Hills. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—Accused - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ROUND the horse - corral at the San Antonio Rancho some half-dozen cowboys were squatted on - their heels, cowboy-fashion, swapping the news of the day. They had ridden - in from various points of the compass, and two or three of their horses, - those of the latest comers, still stood saddled outside the enclosure, the - reins dropped loosely over their heads, which for the trained cow-pony is - just as effective an anchorage as any stake and rope. - </p> - <p> - Two or three cigarettes were a-light, and the “makings” were passing from - hand to hand among those not yet engaged in the leisurely blowing of smoke - rings. The topic of conversation was the rumored sale of the ranch, which - some declared to be assuredly impending, while others dismissed the - possibility of such a big deal going through as the merest moonshine. - </p> - <p> - Jack Rover was among those who had no illusions as to the future. - </p> - <p> - “Believe me, fellers,” he was remarking, “it’s no false alarm this time. - The old rancho is as good as sold, the stock is a-going to be shipped out, - the farmers is a-coming in, and in a few months’ time we’ll all be hunting - jobs if there’s any more cow-punching jobs left in this blamed new - topsy-turvy world. And that’s the straight goods—hell!” - </p> - <p> - Just as this terse and vigorous summation of the whole dispute found - utterance, all eyes were turned in a particular direction. It was young - Thurston’s riderless steed that had attracted attention as it swept toward - its accustomed quarters in the corral. - </p> - <p> - “It’s Marshall’s horse,” observed one of the boys. - </p> - <p> - “Off again, on again, gone again, Flannigan,” laughed another—an - adaptation of a popular story that evoked a general grin. - </p> - <p> - But one youth had sprung to his feet, and skilfully caught the bridle of - the panting animal as it passed him. - </p> - <p> - “Whoa, beauty!” - </p> - <p> - The others had not stirred. The involuntary dismounting of the young boss - was too familiar an episode to provoke anything more than a laugh - tinctured with mild satisfaction— - </p> - <p> - “No Easterner can ride a Western broncho, anyhow.” - </p> - <p> - “Pass your baccy, Bob,” came a voice from the ring. But the cowboy holding - the riderless horse now brought them all to instant attention. - </p> - <p> - “By God, he’s been shot! There’s blood on the horn, and here’s the rip of - the bullet.” - </p> - <p> - Everyone was on their feet now, and the situation was being eagerly - discussed while the saddle was undergoing confirmatory inspection. - </p> - <p> - “Something’s happened, boys,” exclaimed the big husky fellow addressed as - Bob, conclusively, if somewhat obviously. “And I guess we’d better - investigate.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke he swung himself into his saddle—he had been one of the - late arrivals and his horse was all ready for the road or the range. - </p> - <p> - “Up toward the hills then,” remarked another, indicating the direction - whence the riderless horse had come. And a moment later he, too, was - astride his broncho. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll borrow your pony, Ted,” cried out Jack Rover as he jumped astride a - third mustang. - </p> - <p> - And a moment later all three riders were pelting along the road leading to - La Siesta. There was no difficulty whatever in picking up the long - galloping strides on the dusty highway, and the speed of the trackers - depended only on the swiftness and endurance of their mounts. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile the boy who had caught Marshall’s horse had disencumbered it of - saddle and bridle, and turned it into the corral with a kindly pat on its - heaving flank. - </p> - <p> - “Guess I’ll report to the boss,” he called out, as he picked up the saddle - and moved away toward the ranch home. - </p> - <p> - “Look out for yourself,” shouted one of the group. “Old Thurston will be - madder than hell.” - </p> - <p> - But it was terror, selfish terror, not anger nor grief, that came into Ben - Thurston’s eyes when he saw the saddle horn smeared with fresh blood and - scarred by a bullet. - </p> - <p> - “My God, and I believed Don Manuel was dead,” he whispered in a hoarse - voice to Leach Sharkey. - </p> - <p> - The two had been, as usual, in close companionship; Sharkey reading a - weekly newspaper, while the employer he was paid to protect, restlessly, - as was his wont, paced the room. - </p> - <p> - “Disappeared and dead ain’t exactly the same thing,” replied the sleuth as - he critically examined the saddle. “And there may be another explanation - to this. What about Dick Willoughby?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, Dick Willoughby,” eagerly assented the trembling man. - </p> - <p> - “You saw them quarreling the other day—they hate each other like - poison,” continued Sharkey. “Where’s Dick Willoughby now?” he enquired, - with a swift glance at the cowboy. - </p> - <p> - “Good Lord, that’s just where he is—searching the canyons below the - forest for mavericks,” was the reply. - </p> - <p> - Sharkey smiled blandly; the informant looked disappointed, yet confident. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn’t have believed that of Dick,” he added, regretfully. - </p> - <p> - “Well, clear out now,” said Sharkey. “Mr. Thurston and I will want to be - alone. You say Jack Rover and two others have gone out to search? Well, we - can’t do more till they bring us in some news. Let us know at once when - they return.” - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston had collapsed onto a chair, then raised himself, and was - leaning eagerly forward now. He met Sharkey’s glance of hardly concealed - contempt. - </p> - <p> - “That’s right,” he murmured, “It has been Dick Willoughby’s work. I knew - Don Manuel was dead.” - </p> - <p> - “And what about your boy?” asked the sleuth curtly. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, poor Marshall! I forgot about him. But perhaps he’s only - wounded. We’ll send to Bakersfield for a doctor.” And he half rose from - his seat. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll just wait patiently here,” replied Sharkey, as he pushed Thurston - back into his chair. “All that is possible for the present is being done.” - </p> - <p> - And the rôles were now reversed—it was the bodyguard who slowly and - meditatively paced the room. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile Dick Willoughby had ceased from his ruminations, and was - beginning to take practical steps for getting Marshall’s body home. He had - no thought of coroner’s regulations that a corpse should be left - undisturbed till the proper official investigation had been made. He had - got his riata ready, and was just going to sling the body across his - saddle and tie it there, when the rhythmic thud of clattering hoofs smote - upon his ear. Thank God! Help was coming. There would be others to assist - him in his gruesome task. So Dick patiently waited while the sound grew - nearer and nearer, until at last the three cowboys dashed round the bend. - </p> - <p> - “I heard the rifle shot,” Dick explained, “and rode up from the canyon - below to have a look. I found him here, huddled up just as you see him by - the side of the road.” - </p> - <p> - “Who the devil did this?” asked Jack Rover, contemplating the corpse. - </p> - <p> - “God only knows,” replied Dick. “You take him on your saddle, Bob,” he - added, addressing the big cowboy, whose horse was a full hand taller than - the other ponies and more stalwart in proportion. - </p> - <p> - And so the cortege was formed, Jack Rover leading the way, with Bob and - the body following and Dick Willoughby bringing up the rear. - </p> - <p> - The sun was low when at last they gained the rancho. They made their way - quietly round to the bunk house and quite tenderly swathed the mortal - remains of the young boss in a blanket, before carrying it to his father’s - home. - </p> - <p> - At the sound of approaching footsteps old Ben Thurston, with Leach Sharkey - close on his heels, emerged onto the verandah. There was no need to - announce the death of his son—the ominous bundle told its own sad - tale. The ranch owner stared at it, horrified, inarticulate from a - conflict of emotions, the hunted look of terror again in his eyes. Leach - Sharkey took up the work of interrogation. - </p> - <p> - “How did it happen?” He was addressing Jack Rover, who chanced to stand - next to him after helping to deposit the body on a bench that stood - conveniently against the wall. - </p> - <p> - “Dick Willoughby heard the shot up among the woods, and found him lying - dead on the road.” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey advanced a pace or two and confronted Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Who fired the shot?” - </p> - <p> - “How should I know?” retorted Dick, reddening slightly from the - brusqueness of the enquiry. - </p> - <p> - “I reckon I can tell,” cried Sharkey. And with a swift, experienced - movement he grabbed Dick by both arms and clicked a pair of handcuffs on - his wrists before anyone, Dick least of all, had fathomed his intention. - </p> - <p> - Dick Willoughby was a square-shouldered, powerful fellow, but the great - husky bodyguard, Leach Sharkey, towered above him. In the first flush of - anger and surprise Dick struggled to break the shackles of ignominy. But - the sleuth grabbed him by both shoulders with a grip that rendered its - recipient absolutely powerless. - </p> - <p> - “Go easy, young man.” - </p> - <p> - Dick’s muscles relaxed, and Sharkey was content to release his hold. - </p> - <p> - “Go easy. If you have any answer to make to the charge of murdering that - boy, you’ll have the chance all in good time.” - </p> - <p> - “What right have you to arrest me?” demanded Dick, somewhat recovering his - poise. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’ve a special constable’s star all right,” replied Sharkey, throwing - open his coat and displaying, close to his armpit, the badge of the office - he had claimed. - </p> - <p> - “Guess that’s good enough for you and all others here. And now take my - advice, Willoughby. You’ll come quietly with me to Bakersfield. I’ve no - special grudge against you, but have my obvious duty to perform. You - threatened young Marshall more than once in all our hearing, and it will - be up to you to prove yourself guiltless of his death. You bring round Mr. - Thurston’s automobile, Rover. We start right now.” - </p> - <p> - Everything had happened so rapidly that none of the cowboys, had they so - desired, could have protested or interfered. Meanwhile the news had - spread, for others among the ranch hands were coming up and crowding - toward the verandah rails. General sympathy was obviously with Dick - Several of the onlookers advanced and shook his manacled hands. “All - right, Mr. Willoughby.” “You’ll be home again tomorrow,” “Buck up, it’s a - ridiculous charge”—these were among their expressions of - encouragement. Dick just smiled his thanks—a wan, wistful smile. He - now had himself under perfect control—even his resentment toward - Sharkey had been allowed to evaporate. - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” he said quietly, addressing the sleuth. “I’ll give you no - trouble, Sharkey. Let us get away from here as quickly as possible.” - </p> - <p> - Just then Lieutenant Munson came hurriedly onto the scene. For a moment he - looked thunderstruck when he saw the handcuffs around Dick’s wrists. - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott, Dick! What’s the meaning of this?” Then without waiting for - a reply he turned to the sleuth. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve just heard about young Thurston’s death, but you’re surely not going - to mix up Dick Willoughby’s name with it, Mr. Sharkey? You must know that - he would have nothing to do with such a cowardly crime.” - </p> - <p> - “He can prove all that at the proper time and place,” was the cool, - determined rejoinder. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t interfere, Munson,” interposed Dick. “Mr. Sharkey considers that he - is doing his duty. That’s an end to all argument. I’ll have no difficulty - in obtaining my release once we get to Bakersfield.” - </p> - <p> - “And the lieutenant can come along with us if he likes,” observed the - sleuth, conciliated by his prisoner’s sensible view of things. “As Mr. - Willoughby’s best friend, you can see that everything’s done right, Mr. - Munson.” - </p> - <p> - “But why these handcuffs?” - </p> - <p> - “I know my own business,” replied the sleuth, with returning severity, as - he touched the constable’s star on his breast. “And as a soldier you - should know the wisdom of letting it go at that, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Munson turned to Mr. Thurston. All through the colloquy the ranch-owner - had spoken not a word. He had dropped onto the bench beside the still - swathed body of his son, and was sitting there with bowed head and - stolidly fixed eyes. - </p> - <p> - “You are no party to this accusation, Mr. Thurston?” the lieutenant - enquired. “I am sorry for the blow that has fallen on you. But you can’t - seriously believe that Dick Willoughby’s the man who fired that shot.” As - he spoke he pointed at the dead rigid form. - </p> - <p> - Thurston raised his eyes. There was a dull glare of fury in them, a savage - snarl on his parted lips. - </p> - <p> - “Mind your own business, young man. He killed my boy, and by God he’ll - hang for it.” While speaking he rose to his feet, holding forth a - denouncing arm toward Willoughby, “Yes, he’ll hang for it,” he growled - again with savage determination, turning round to the open door. - </p> - <p> - With a gesture to the cowboys standing nearest, he bade them carry the - body within. He stood aside to let them pass with their burden, then - followed and slammed the door behind him with an angry bang. - </p> - <p> - Despite the tragedy of it all, a little smile went round the group of - onlookers. It meant to say that that was just Ben Thurston all over—irascible - and vindictive. But some faces looked grave. - </p> - <p> - “May go mighty hard with Willoughby,” murmured one voice, that of the old - grey-headed man, the blacksmith at the rancho for twenty years or more. “I - wouldn’t like to feel the weight of the old devil’s hand.” - </p> - <p> - But just then the automobile came round the house, piloted by Jack Rover. - Sharkey began to make his dispositions for the journey. - </p> - <p> - “Do you want to take anything with you, Willoughby?” he asked in a - considerate manner. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” was the prompt reply. - </p> - <p> - “Well then, you’ll ride with me on the front seat. Lieutenant, you can - share the tonneau with Mr. Thurston.” There was a slight grin on the - sleuth’s face as he signified the arrangement. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Thurston?” queried Munson, taken somewhat aback. “Does he come, too?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure,” replied Sharkey. “Who’s going to make the charge, I’d like to - know? Willoughby, I just need your promise that you won’t move from this - verandah till I return.” - </p> - <p> - Dick nodded assent. “You have my word,” he said with quiet dignity. - </p> - <p> - “Then I’ll be back in a minute,” added the sleuth, his hand on the door - knob. - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston was standing alone in the centre of the living room, the body - with its bearers having passed to an inner apartment. His arms were folded - across his breast in an attitude of deep dejection. But it was with the - scared look of a hunted beast that he started away at the touch of Leach - Sharkey’s hand upon his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - The sleuth smiled understandingly. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t want to be left here all alone, do you?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no. For God’s sake, no. I had forgotten that.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you’ve got to come with me to Bakersfield. In any case you will be - wanted to swear the information. And you can also make arrangements for - the funeral. So get your hat and overcoat. We are all ready outside.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, I’m coming,” faltered Thurston. “Wait for me, Sharkey,” he - added, as with nervous fingers he detached his overcoat from a rack on the - wall. - </p> - <p> - And a few minutes later the automobile, with Sharkey at the wheel, the - handcuffed prisoner by his side, and Thurston and the lieutenant seated - frigidly apart in opposite comers of the tonneau, was spinning through the - gathering dusk of evening on its way to the county town of Bakersfield. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV—Entanglements - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ROM the - observatory high up among the hills, Mr. Robles had witnessed the arrest - and the departure of the prisoner. He had understood every move just as if - he had been present on the verandah down below and had heard each spoken - word. - </p> - <p> - As he stood erect, his hand still rested on the telescope. For a few - moments he pondered, then murmured to himself as he turned to leave the - room: “A bad complication! I must break the news tonight to Merle. Poor - little girl!” - </p> - <p> - But it was two hours later before he wended his way down through the - moonlit forest in the direction of La Siesta. - </p> - <p> - There dinner was over. No word of untoward happenings had as yet come from - the outside world to disturb the tranquillity of the little household. In - the drawing room Merle was at the piano, while Grace, close by, was curled - on a sofa reading the latest novel. At some distance from the young girls - was Mrs. Darlington, occupied intermittently over a piece of embroidery. - </p> - <p> - She was seated in semi-darkness, only her hands and her work illumed by - the soft pink radiance of a shaded lamp resting on a little table by her - side. In the evening costume of the chatelaine of La Siesta was the - suggestion of old lace and old-time lavender—the old lace at her - bosom and around her neck, the subtle fragrance of lavender exhaled from - her garments that gave to her a sort of personal atmosphere. And as she - sat musingly, with the skeins of silk passing through her fingers, she - might have formed a picture of some Penelope seated at the loom of pensive - memory. - </p> - <p> - The music from the piano was in harmony with both her mood and her - attitude—the soft dreamy melodies of Mendelssohn’s “Songs without - Words” to which she was vaguely listening while busy with her thoughts and - her stitches. - </p> - <p> - Downstairs amid the oriental luxuriousness of the cosy corner sat Tia - Teresa, waiting in the dark to intercept the visitor of whose coming she - had been apprized by a secret messenger. And at last Ricardo Robles came, - with the noiseless footfall that was characteristic of the man and - imparted to him an air of mystery. He was standing by the old duenna’s - side before she had realized his presence. - </p> - <p> - “I wanted a few words with you first of all, Tia Teresa,” he murmured, as - she grasped his hand in both her own and affectionately kissed it. - “Something has happened.” - </p> - <p> - “I know what has happened, Don Manuel,” she whispered. “The young man - deserved his fate, for I am sure you saw what occurred in the rose garden - during the afternoon. For one of his breed to have dared even to touch my - little girl!” She hissed the words venomously, then added in calmer tone: - “So all is well. He brought down his doom upon his own head, and vengeance - for Rosetta begins.” - </p> - <p> - Robles pressed her hand as he disengaged his own from her almost fiercely - caressing touch. - </p> - <p> - “I nursed you both,” continued the duenna in a low impassioned voice. - “Your people were my people, you children were my very life, and your - revenge has come to be my own. So I rejoice that the young ruffian died.” - </p> - <p> - He had seated himself by her side on the divan. “We shall say no more then - about that,” he responded. “In some ways I am sorry over the day’s work. - At times I find it difficult to reconcile my firmness with my softness.” - </p> - <p> - “But you cannot forget that you are no longer the owner of your father’s - lands and flocks, and are virtually childless besides.” She breathed the - words with intense repressed fury, intensified as she added: “And all - through the accursed gringo who wrecked our happy lives—Rosetta’s, - yours, your beloved parents’ as well. While that abominable wretch lives, - the vendetta can never end.” - </p> - <p> - For a moment Robles remained silent. Then he spoke resolutely: - </p> - <p> - “I know it, Tia Teresa. Today my work only begins. Rest assured that it - will be carried to the bitter finish. For this I have waited all through - those long years. But I wanted to tell you of another matter—to warn - you of a very serious complication. Dick Willoughby has been arrested for - the slaying of Marshall Thurston.” The duenna sat bolt upright in shocked - surprise. “Oh, my! What will this mean?” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “Terrible grief for my little girl—possibly much suffering for him - until I choose to take the responsibility upon myself.” - </p> - <p> - “You must not do that.” - </p> - <p> - “No. Not yet, at all events. Or the victory will be his—my enemy’s.” - </p> - <p> - He mused again. She, too, remained silent. At last he broke the spell. - </p> - <p> - “But I have already devised measures for his safety. Now I must go - upstairs. They have heard nothing yet?” - </p> - <p> - “Not a word.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I must tell them of the mysterious shooting in the woods, and at the - same time reassure Merle that her lover is in no real danger.” - </p> - <p> - “And Mrs. Darlington?” asked Tia Teresa. “How much is she to know?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing! The vendetta is for us Spaniards. It is ours and ours alone. No - one knows of my vow but you and I. Let it remain so. <i>Adios</i>, my dear - friend.” - </p> - <p> - In the darkness he stooped and kissed her on both cheeks. For a moment she - clung to him, but he gently liberated himself from her embrace. He moved - toward the stairway, and Tia Teresa followed him cautiously up to the - drawing room door, outside of which she remained. Knowing that she was - there, he left the door ajar. The soft music was still playing, but - suddenly ceased when Robles advanced into the apartment. - </p> - <p> - “My word, but this is an unexpected pleasure,” exclaimed Merle, as she - came from the piano with outstretched hands. - </p> - <p> - He took them both in his own, and bestowed on her a grave but kindly - smile. He also nodded to Grace, who had dropped her book and risen in - courteous greeting. - </p> - <p> - “But you look sad and serious,” Merle went on, with quick intuition that - his coming at this late hour meant something more than a mere neighborly - visit. - </p> - <p> - “Something sad and serious has happened,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington had advanced from her lamp-lit table. - </p> - <p> - “What?” she enquired eagerly. “Somehow I had a sense of impending trouble - all day long.” - </p> - <p> - “Young Thurston of the rancho has met with an accident.” - </p> - <p> - “Dead?” gasped Merle, her hands clasped against her bosom. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, dead, I am afraid. He was mysteriously shot this afternoon when - riding through the pine woods.” - </p> - <p> - Merle was stricken dumb. Grace glided to her side and listened in silent - expectancy. - </p> - <p> - “Shot! By whom?” asked Mrs. Darlington. - </p> - <p> - “That I cannot tell,” gravely replied Robles. Then he smiled faintly. “But - an amazingly stupid blunder has been made. By some combination of - circumstances suspicion is being fastened on our dear friend Dick - Willoughby.” - </p> - <p> - “Dick!” exclaimed Merle. “Who dares to suggest such a thing?” she added - indignantly. - </p> - <p> - “I infer that Mr. Thurston is his accuser,” replied Robles. - </p> - <p> - “The two young men quarreled,” murmured Mrs. Darlington, in a voice of - deep agitation. - </p> - <p> - “Mother!” cried Merle reprovingly. “Even to think for one moment that - Dick, whatever the provocation, could have done such a thing! He is - absolutely innocent, Mr. Robles,” she went on decisively, again turning to - their visitor. - </p> - <p> - “Of course he is innocent—absolutely innocent. No one knows that - better than myself.” And he gave an enigmatic smile as he spoke the words - of reassuring confidence. - </p> - <p> - “Where is Mr. Willoughby now?” queried Grace. - </p> - <p> - “He has been compelled to go to Bakersfield.” - </p> - <p> - “To Bakersfield?” exclaimed Merle, half wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “There to prove his innocence,” replied Robles. - </p> - <p> - But Mrs. Darlington had probed the real significance of his words. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t mean to say that they have—arrested him?” - </p> - <p> - Robles nodded gravely. “That’s how the law acts. A man under suspicion - must be taken into custody—he must be charged so that he can refute - the shameful calumny.” - </p> - <p> - Merle had dropped into a settee—white and speechless. Her lips - trembled. Then she burst into a passion of weeping, burying her face - against an arm flung across the upholstery. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington moved forward quickly to comfort the sobbing girl. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don’t take on like this, my dear child. The arrest was a mere - formality. He will be immediately set at liberty.” - </p> - <p> - Merle raised her tear-stained face. She spoke in gulping sobs. - </p> - <p> - “But, mother, I never told you—I shrank from telling any of you. - While you and Grace were away this afternoon, Marshall Thurston called and - wanted to make love to me—he even dared to try to kiss me. Tia - Teresa flung him out of the rose garden. It was I who made Tia Teresa - promise to say nothing about it to anyone. I feared trouble. And, oh, - trouble, terrible trouble, has already come.” Again she bowed her head and - continued weeping, but quietly weeping now. Grace was bending over her, - patting her shoulder in soothing sympathy. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington’s eyes met those of Robles. - </p> - <p> - “This may prove serious,” she said softly, that Merle might not overhear. - </p> - <p> - “It is decidedly unfortunate,” replied Robles; “an unfortunate - complication that may, of course, strengthen the suspicion against - Willoughby and so render it more difficult for us to help him.” - </p> - <p> - Merle sprang to her feet, and with a hand dashed away her tears. - </p> - <p> - “Suspicion!” she exclaimed. “There can be not one moment’s suspicion.” And - she gazed up into Robles’ face in ardent appeal. - </p> - <p> - “Of course not, my dear, among us—among all those who know Dick - Willoughby. But there is the harshly judging world to reckon with besides. - They may say that this discloses a motive for the crime.” - </p> - <p> - “However, Merle has just told us,” commented Mrs. Darlington, “that only - she and Tia Teresa know anything about this unhappy episode in the rose - garden. Mr. Willoughby has not been here at all today.” - </p> - <p> - “But I happen to know that he was not far away this afternoon—that - he was rounding up some cattle in the near-by canyons. Malice may suggest - that he was a witness of Thurston’s insolent behavior.” - </p> - <p> - “Then we should all keep silent on the subject.” - </p> - <p> - “Which might be compromising in the long run, my dear Mrs. Darlington. - Altogether it is a difficult situation.” - </p> - <p> - Merle had been hardly listening to this conversation. She had been - thinking, and with thinking had regained her composure. Her mind was - quickly made up as to the line of prompt action that must be taken. She - spoke quite calmly now. - </p> - <p> - “He is in prison. You have not spoken the word, Mr. Robles, but I know the - truth all the same. We shall go to him tonight.” - </p> - <p> - “Not tonight, my dear,” replied Robles, with gentle firmness. “But - tomorrow morning, certainly, I would suggest that you drive over to - Bakersfield. He will appreciate your kindness in paying him this prompt - visit, and you can at the same time convey to him my message of absolute - belief in his innocence.” - </p> - <p> - “You will not come, too?” - </p> - <p> - “I can do more for him, Merle, by not going to Bakersfield for the - present. Do not forget that for reasons of my own I live in seclusion. My - name must be mentioned to no one but Mr. Willoughby. Trust me, all three - of you, and leave me to work quietly alone and by my own methods. There, I - give my promise. The captive will be set free within a short time. My hand - on that, and you know that I never break my word.” - </p> - <p> - There was a joyous smile of confidence on his face as he spoke the words. - Merle took the extended hand gratefully, trustfully, and pressed it to her - lips. Robles went on: - </p> - <p> - “My advice is—try to sleep tonight. Tomorrow, or within a few brief - tomorrows, all will be well. Good night.” - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa followed him from the open door down into the outer hall. - </p> - <p> - “You heard everything,” he said as he paused to speak a final word of - parting. “Comfort her, but at the same time guard our secret closer than - ever. Not one hair of Willoughby’s head will be touched—make her - know that for certain. And everything will come right in a very little - time.” - </p> - <p> - “My poor little girl,” he murmured to himself as he strode down the silent - tree-shadowed avenue. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV—Behind the Bars - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ick Willoughby had - been lodged in the county jail at Bakersfield, duly charged by Ben - Thurston as the murderer of his son. To his surprise, and indeed to his - dismay, the prisoner was informed that, the crime alleged being a capital - one, no bail could be accepted. This was first of all a blow to - Willoughby’s pride. Here he was under the stigma of imprisonment, but with - no possibility of redress. It was not the loss of comforts, the - deprivation of personal liberty, the hardships to body and to soul, - inseparable from such restraint, that he resented, so much as the - semiconviction of guilt implied by the durance vile to which he was to be - subjected, although absolutely innocent of the deed of which he was - accused. - </p> - <p> - However, after first chagrin came manly philosophy. The law might be right - or wrong, wise or unwise, necessary or superfluous. But all the same it - was the law of the state and had therefore to be obeyed. So, when the - situation was finally reviewed, it was Lieutenant Munson who, when bidding - his friend good-night, had been the angry man, fretting and fuming over - such an abominable act of injustice, while the prisoner himself was - tranquilly resigned to the ordeal through which he must pass and to which - unkind fate was subjecting him for reasons that he was powerless to - fathom. - </p> - <p> - “Good night, Ches, old man. You’ll see me again in the morning. It’s - mighty kind of you to stay in town all night. But we can decide on the - best lawyer to employ, and then you must hasten back to break the bad news - at La Siesta.” - </p> - <p> - Such had been Dick’s quiet words when their colloquy had been broken up, - and he had been ordered to the retirement of his prison cell. To enter - that place was for Dick a horrible experience. But he accepted the - experience calmly, bade the turnkey a cheerful good-night, and laid him - down to sleep on the narrow mattress resting upon the hard bench, at peace - with himself and the world, even with the bitter enemy who had all so - unexpectedly appeared on his path. - </p> - <p> - Although Munson was back in the jail betimes next morning, he found Dick - already conferring with a lawyer—the best and most honored in the - town, as Munson knew the moment his name was mentioned. - </p> - <p> - “Let me introduce you to Mr. Bradley,” said Dick, presenting him. “Some - kind friend whose name he declines to reveal for the present, sent him a - special message last night retaining his services for my defence.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Darlington, I bet,” interjected the lieutenant. - </p> - <p> - “No, not Mrs. Darlington, let me assure you,” rejoined the lawyer, - “although undoubtedly she would be willing to do the same thing. But I am - not permitted to say any more.” - </p> - <p> - “And he has <i>carte blanche</i> for all expenses,” smiled Dick. “Although - I should not think there will be much money required to clear an innocent - man,” he added. - </p> - <p> - “Wait till you see,” said the lawyer crisply. “We have to reckon with a - malignant persecutor, I am already informed.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’ve got a bit to my bank credit,” Dick replied. “And we’ll draw on - that first before I accept the generosity of an unknown friend. It will be - quite a saving here,” he went on with a humorous twinkle in his eye as he - glanced around. “Free board and lodging at the state’s expense for a week - at all events.” - </p> - <p> - “Much longer than that, I am afraid,” gravely remarked the lawyer. “You - see, Mr. Munson, just before you arrived we were discussing the decidedly - unfortunate coincidence that at the time the shooting occurred, Mr. - Willoughby, by his own admission, was in the little canyon below the scene - of the tragedy.” - </p> - <p> - “Rounding up some cattle,” observed Dick. “Of course. But all the same, - open to suspicion as being on the ground, and indeed being the first to - reach the dead man’s side.” - </p> - <p> - “That should be proof of innocence,” observed Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Or may be taken as evidence of well-reasoned audacity to throw accusers - off the trail,” retorted the attorney. “You see we have to look at - everything, not from our own point of view, but from the other side. Now I - want to learn something more about that quarrel between you and young - Thurston at the cattle muster.” - </p> - <p> - “He made an insulting remark about one of the young ladies from La - Siesta,” replied Dick. “I told him I would tan his hide if he ever did it - again. That’s all. But the last thing I want is that these ladies’ names - should be dragged into the case.” - </p> - <p> - “But his remark and your reproof were overheard by others,” commented the - attorney. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, by a bunch of ranch hands.” - </p> - <p> - “Whose evidence will undoubtedly be called for the prosecution, - necessitating, perhaps, the evidence of the young ladies on our side.” - </p> - <p> - “By God, I won’t stand for that,” exclaimed Dick hotly. “I can defend - myself without their being called to the witness stand. Think, Munson, of - subjecting Merle or Grace to any such thing”—and his indignant face - appealed to the lieutenant’s. - </p> - <p> - “I saw nothing of the quarrel,” observed Munson, addressing the lawyer, - “although, of course, I heard something about it later on—not from - Willoughby, however, for he has never once referred to the matter in - conversation with me. But I say, Dick, old fellow, you know that Merle - Farnsworth and Grace Darlington, too, will be only too proud and happy to - stand up for you in a law court or anywhere else.” - </p> - <p> - “That may be,” replied Dick gloomily, “but I don’t propose that they shall - be made the objects of vulgar curiosity in a crowded court-room, or that - their ears should ever hear the vile words that fell from that miserable - degenerate who has at last met the fate he properly deserved.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it is a point that we shall have to consider carefully,” spoke the - lawyer as he rose to take his departure. “I have all the main facts of the - case now, Mr. Willoughby. Of course I shall apply formally to the court - for bail, but I know it is bound to be refused. I’ll make all arrangements - outside for your comfort here—meals, etc., and no doubt your friend, - Mr. Munson, will bring you over clothing, toilet requisites, and the other - little things you will require. I’ll see you again later on today.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer was gone, and the two comrades were alone in the little room, - stone-walled and bare of furniture except for a few chairs, where the - consultation had been held. Beyond the open door stood a constable, just - out of earshot. But he now took his stand within the room. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Munson, old chap,” said Dick with cheerful alacrity, “you get back - to the rancho in double-quick time. Then go on to La Siesta and tell Merle - not to worry on my account. Tell her that I’m bright and happy, and just - enjoying a good rest, and will be set at liberty within a week or so. But - remember, she is not to come here. Good Lord, I never want her to see me - in a place like this.” And he glanced around forlornly, and in a measure - ashamed. - </p> - <p> - But at the very moment there was a flutter along the corridor—the - sound of voices, and women’s voices, too. A moment later the - superintendent of the jail appeared, bringing with him Mrs. Darlington and - Merle. At the doorway he spoke to the officer on guard; the man withdrew. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Willoughby, here are some more friends,” said the superintendent as - he ushered in the ladies. “I am going to interpret the regulations as - leniently as possible—that’s a matter which can rest between - ourselves. I’ll come back for you, Mrs. Darlington, in half an hour.” - </p> - <p> - Merle advanced toward Dick with outstretched hand. In her other hand was a - fine bouquet of roses. - </p> - <p> - “What a shame that you should be here,” she exclaimed. “But I realize that - the only thing to do is to submit as cheerfully as possible to the - inevitable. Mother and I came over to give you our sympathy and proffer - our help in every possible way. Grace also sends her very kindest regards, - and I was bidden by Mr. Robles, whom we saw last night, to assure you of - his complete belief in your innocence.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m not afraid of any real friend thinking me capable of a cowardly - deed like that,” replied Willoughby. “But it is nice to have these kind - messages, although I could have wished, Miss Farnsworth, that you had not - seen me amid such surroundings.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you think that we would desert you in such a time of trouble as this?” - replied Merle, as she sat down. “But seeing that our visit is to be - restricted to half an hour, it is well that we should get to the important - points without delay. I have been talking over a certain matter both with - mother and Mr. Robles, and although I shrink from telling it, they have - decided that you must know about the affair.” - </p> - <p> - She then proceeded, in a low voice and with lips that trembled, to tell - how young Thurston had forced his attentions on her just a little time - before the shooting occurred and how Tia Teresa had rescued her from his - clutches. - </p> - <p> - This was the first that Dick had heard of the incident and his face - flushed with anger. But Merle quieted him at once. “You need not be angry - now, Mr. Willoughby. It is all over. But your lawyer will want to consider - what bearing this may possibly have upon the case.” - </p> - <p> - “It can have no bearing at all,” maintained Dick. “In the first place I - didn’t even know till now that Marshall had been visiting at La Siesta. - And in the second place, just as I was saying to Munson a few minutes ago, - I am determined that the names of you ladies shall not be dragged into - this miserable affair. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Darlington?” - </p> - <p> - “In a measure. But all the same we are ready to stand by you so as to - establish your innocence with the least possible delay. I heard this - morning that Mr. Thurston is very bitter against you, keeps vowing - vengeance, and announces that no money will be spared to bring the slayer - of his son to retribution.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I hope he’ll find him without loss of time,” smiled Dick. “That - will be the quickest and easiest way to get me out of confinement. But at - this moment I have not the faintest idea on whom to fasten the charge. - Lots of the cowboys despised young Thurston, but none were really his - enemies, and I don’t know any one among the bunch who would have shot him - in that dastardly, cold-blooded manner.” - </p> - <p> - “Which makes the situation for you all the more disagreeable,” commented - Munson. “You had been known to threaten him, and if there is no one else - to whom suspicion can point, you may be kept here, Dick, for quite a time—for - months, perhaps, until the case goes to trial.” - </p> - <p> - Dick’s face fell. “For months!” he exclaimed. “Surely that would be an - outrage.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I wouldn’t be too despondent,” protested Merle. “Besides, Mr. Robles - has pledged his word to me that you will be free in a very brief time.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he may know who the culprit is,” remarked Dick eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “No,” interposed Mrs. Darlington. “He is like ourselves—quite in the - dark. But you may rest assured that Mr. Robles will leave no stone - unturned to solve the mystery and restore you to liberty, Mr. Willoughby, - for I happen to know that he holds you in highest esteem.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m glad of that,” replied Dick. “Well, I want you to tell him from me - how keen I am that you ladies shall be spared from all association with - this case. You know that I am exercising great self-denial, Miss - Farnsworth, when I say that you are never to come here again. This is no - place for you.” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me,” laughed Merle, “but we are interested in you and will excuse - the hotel you have chosen to patronize. We brought these roses for you - from La Siesta”—as she spoke she presented him with the beautiful - blooms—“and if Lieutenant Munson will be kind enough to come out to - our automobile he will find there some books, also a box of fruit and a - few delicacies which we hope will help to make your stay here just a - little more tolerable.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re kind indeed,” murmured Dick gratefully. “Don’t worry about me,” he - added cheerfully, “I’ll have a fine rest here, and will be able to catch - up with my arrears of reading.” - </p> - <p> - And in this philosophic frame of mind the prisoner was left to begin his - holiday. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI—Pierre Luzon Returns - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the outside - world the question on everybody’s lips was—who had fired the fatal - shot among the pine woods? The young reprobate had been thoroughly - despised, but he had no known enemies except Willoughby. So while - Willoughby’s staunch friends could only reiterate the question in vain - perplexity, most people were inclined to answer it with Dick’s name. The - angry quarrel between the two young men was universally known and had been - subjected to sundry embellishments—for example, the threatened - horse-whipping had become an actual recorded event, and so on. And even - there were whispers about rivalry in some love affair—that Marshall - had had his eye on one of the young ladies at La Siesta where Dick for - some time had been a constant caller. - </p> - <p> - So among the cowboys on the ranch, the oil drillers who frequented the - Bakersfield saloons and had often enough stood around while young Thurston - had set up the drinks, the newspaper reading public generally for whom all - the facts had been set forth in elaborate detail—the universal - concensus of opinion seemed to be that Dick Willoughby was the man. Not - that this verdict of popular opinion carried with it any real reprobation. - Everyone agreed that the worthless degenerate had met even a kindlier fate - than he merited. Had he lived, not all his father’s millions could have - long saved him either from the penitentiary or an asylum for the insane. - </p> - <p> - A week passed. Thurston brooded in solitude, but at his bidding Leach - Sharkey kept up active investigations with a view to nose out every bit of - evidence that could tell against the accused man. Sharkey worked, not from - any special animosity against Willoughby, but from keen professional - pride. - </p> - <p> - Dick accepted his confinement with manly fortitude. It. was one of those - untoward happenings that come into some people’s lives for no obvious - reason, but he was calm in the confidence that everything would be made - clear in a very short time. - </p> - <p> - Moreover he was clear to his own conscience, which was the main thing. - Next in importance was that Merle, Grace and Mrs. Darlington, Robles and - Munson, all the friends whom he held in highest esteem, had never for one - moment doubted him. In their unshaken friendship was sufficient reward for - all the tribulations through which he was passing. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile word had reached Buck Ashley that old Tom Baker was on his way - home in company with Pierre Luzon, to whom the Governor of the State had - at last granted parole. In view of Dick’s imprisonment Munson had - well-nigh lost all interest in the romance of the buried treasure. But it - had been Dick himself who had insisted that his friend must attend to - their joint interests during his period of enforced sequestration. - </p> - <p> - Thus it had come about that Munson found himself one evening at the store, - awaiting with Jack Rover and Buck Ashley the arrival of the automobile in - which the sheriff was bringing the liberated convict from San Quentin. In - a brief letter Tom Baker had explained that he had decided on this manner - of transportation both because of its ensuring privacy and also because - Pierre Luzon was so enfeebled by age, sickness and prolonged confinement - that he could not travel by train. “I’ve rigged up a stretcher,” wrote - Tom, “but the poor old Frenchie is as weak as a kitten, and we’ll have to - run slow.” - </p> - <p> - Nine o’clock that night was the scheduled hour around which the automobile - might be expected. Buck Ashley had the extra cot for the invalid all ready - in his own bedroom at the rear of the store. - </p> - <p> - It was close on ten o’clock, however, before the headlight of the - automobile showed across the valley on the high-road. Buck piled another - big log on the fire in the sitting room. He saw that the doors were all - carefully closed and the shades pulled down. Then he brought in from the - bar a tray with glasses and a bottle of whisky. - </p> - <p> - “Kentucky bourbon—that was old Pierre Luzon’s favorite lotion,” he - said as he set down the tray. “And I guess he’ll be glad of a good stiff - drink on a cold night like this.” - </p> - <p> - At last the automobile entered the yard, and the invalid was carried in on - the stretcher and propped up comfortably in a rocking chair near the - cheerful blaze. His teeth were chattering from cold, and he gratefully - gulped down the stiff glass of bourbon which Buck lost no time in - proffering him. - </p> - <p> - “You see,” explained Tom Baker, as he bustled around, “the Governor just - grants paroles; he can’t grant pardons. Some sort of a board has to pass - on the pardons. But I got him out all right, and that’s the main thing. - Eh, Pierre, old man?” - </p> - <p> - The sheriff nodded with great friendliness to his protégé. Luzon responded - with a wan smile that silently spoke his thankfulness. His face was - deathly pale, but there was wonderful snap and vitality in the black - bead-like eyes that roamed around the room and searched each countenance. - </p> - <p> - Buck was now standing by the rocker. He laid a hand familiarly on the - Frenchman’s shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “You see, Pierre, old scout, I don’t forget you”—he pointed to the - bottle on the table. “Kentucky bourbon, the best I’ve got in the house, - and the very label you used to call for. Now we’ve got to drink to your - speedy recovery. Fill up all round, boys. The drinks are on me tonight.” - </p> - <p> - “Hip, hip, hooray!” shouted Tom, as the glasses tinkled. - </p> - <p> - “Hush!” exclaimed Buck, warningly. “We don’t want to bring any booze - fighters prowlin’ around here tonight. You see, Pierre, we four are in - cahoots and understand each other. You know Tom and myself—we ain’t - in need of any guarantee. And you can trust Mr. Chester Munson and Jack - Rover here to the limit.” - </p> - <p> - Luzon bowed acknowledgment of the informal introduction. - </p> - <p> - “It was we who put up the cash to get you out of San Quentin,” continued - Buck, as he dropped into a chair close beside Tom Baker. - </p> - <p> - “Together with Dick Willoughby,” interjected Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, not forgettin’ Dick,” resumed the storekeeper, “as fine a young - feller as ever walked on shoe leather. But, by God, he’s in jail just - now.” - </p> - <p> - “Eh?” ejaculated the ex-convict, with a look of awakening, almost - fraternal, interest. - </p> - <p> - Buck turned to the sheriff. - </p> - <p> - “Of course, Tom, you’ll have read all about that terrible affair in the - newspapers?” - </p> - <p> - The sheriff surreptitiously grabbed Buck’s arm. He spoke in a confidential - whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Drop that subject for the present. I’ve said nothin’ about it to old - Pierre in case it might upset him. I ain’t dared to mention the name - Thurston to him, for he shared the White Wolf’s hatred of the breed.” Then - Tom gave a little cough and glanced across the fireplace at the Frenchman. - “Just a little cowboy shootin’ scrap, Pierre, in which our chum Dick - Willoughby has got himself temporarily involved. But say, boys,” he went - on, casting his eyes toward Munson and Rover, “I just thanked the Lord it - wasn’t me as had to arrest Dick. Of course if I had still been sheriff I’d - a done it—when I was a sworn-in officer, duty was duty all the time - with me, as every damned horse-thief within a hundred miles knows. But to - take an honest man into custody for shootin’ a miserable human coyote like - that young—” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we’re not a-goin’ to speak about him just now,” interrupted Buck, - bestowing a cautioning kick on the sheriff’s shins. - </p> - <p> - Tom took the timely reminder. - </p> - <p> - “That would have gone sore against the grain,” he said emphatically, as he - reached for the whisky bottle and replenished his tumbler. - </p> - <p> - “Glad to be back?” asked Buck, beaming pleasantly on old Pierre. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman lifted one thin hand and smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Here I will become once more strong,” he murmured. “No place in ze world - like ze dear old Tehachapi mountains.” - </p> - <p> - “Wal, I see you’ve begun to let your beard grow again,” continued Buck, - pointing to the gray stubbled chin. “And when your hair comes along, too, - you’ll just be lookin’ fine and dandy. The same old Pierre that used to - sit for hours at a time in the store.” - </p> - <p> - He paused a moment, surveying the visitor. - </p> - <p> - “A leetle more whisky, please,” murmured Pierre, as he watched the sheriff - lay down his glass. - </p> - <p> - “All the whisky you want, old fellow,” exclaimed Buck, with effusive - hospitality. “By gunnies, you’re entitled to a good few nips after all the - long years you’ve been locked up. Ain’t that so, boys?” - </p> - <p> - “I should say,” declared Tom, fervently, wiping his lips with the back of - his hand. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman drank gratefully, and as he felt the warm alcoholic glow in - his vitals, uttered a deep-drawn “Ah!” of appreciation. - </p> - <p> - “Tastes good, don’t it?” observed Buck. “You never turned down a drink of - good whisky in the old days, did you, Pierre? Great times then! And gosh - almighty, don’t it beat hell, I never suspected who you were all those - years you used to sit around the store smokin’ that big-bowled pipe of - yourn? And you knew about the cave then?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Pierre Luzon, he know how to keep one secret,” responded the - Frenchman, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and good for us all you kept it, old man,” exclaimed the sheriff. - “He’s a-goin’ to show us the cave tomorrow, Buck. There will be six in the - divvy-up now, boys, for of course Pierre Luzon stands in. That’s agreeable - all round, fellers?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure, sure,” responded the others in unison. Tom turned to the Frenchman. - </p> - <p> - “I told you, Pierre, we’d play the game fair and square with you. Ain’t - that right?” - </p> - <p> - “I trust you all,” replied Luzon. “I show ze cave tomorrow to my friend, - Tom Baker, and you gentlemen who have been so kind to make up one purse to - bring me back here from zat horrid prison.” - </p> - <p> - “Guess you’re about the only feller that knows where it is?” enquired - Buck, cautiously. - </p> - <p> - Luzon looked at his questioner and spoke just one word: “Guadalupe.” - </p> - <p> - “Does Gaudalupe know?” exclaimed Jack Rover. “I thought her long suit was - the riffle where she gets her placer gold.” - </p> - <p> - “Guadalupe,” answered Pierre, speaking slowly, “she know ze cave, but she - not know where ze treasure is buried. Ze cave her home. She live zere. - Lots and lots of times she come out, and nobody ever track her when she go - back. Ze outlaws they sharp-shoot from places in ze hills nobody could - see. But I show you,” he continued, nodding his head at Jack Rover, “I, - Pierre, show you where zat riffle is. I know both where Guadalupe wash out - placer gold and ze secret chamber in ze big cave where Joaquin Murietta - bury him money and where ze White Wolf, Don Manuel—peace to his - soul!”—Pierre Luzon crossed himself—“hide sacks and sacks of - ze yellow gold. Oh, yes!” - </p> - <p> - This long speech had exhausted the old man. He dropped his head wearily. - </p> - <p> - “What you need now is a good long sleep,” exclaimed Tom Baker. “Another - jolt of bourbon Pierre, and then you get in between the blankets, old - fellow.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got your bed all ready in the next room,” observed Buck. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I go to bed zen,” assented Luzon. - </p> - <p> - He gulped down with relish a nightcap of the old whisky. Then Buck and Tom - helped him from his chair. - </p> - <p> - “It is good to be here,” murmured the Frenchman. “I grow strong again - among ze mountains. I never go back—never go back to San Quentin, - that one horrid prison.” - </p> - <p> - “We’ll nurse you like a baby,” said Buck assuringly, as he led the feeble - old man into the adjoining room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII—The Bitter Bit - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N the very night - of Pierre Luzon’s return, Ben Thurston was in close colloquy with his - attorney, summoned specially from New York. It was not only the murder of - his son that had brought about this consultation. The owner of San Antonio - Rancho, while filled with fury against Dick Willoughby, was also gravely - perturbed over other things. Immediately after dinner the two men shut - themselves up in Thurston’s office. - </p> - <p> - Thurston opened the safe and produced a little bundle of neatly-folded, - legal-looking documents. - </p> - <p> - “These are the option papers,” he said gruffly, as he tossed them across - the table to the lawyer. “Look them over, Mr. Hawkins.” - </p> - <p> - The attorney glanced through the documents in a preliminary way. - </p> - <p> - “I see the first big payment falls due on April 1st,” he remarked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, April 1st,” responded Thurston, “and I was a damned fool, too, to - let that Trust Company fellow inveigle me into making the date April 1st, - instead of March 1st. You see,” he went on, “the taxes come due on March - 1st, and on this principality they amount to quite a pretty figure, I can - tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “How much?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, about $18,000.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer again read the papers through, this time more carefully. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Mr. Thurston,” he said, as he lighted a cigar and sat back in his - chair, “I left some very important matters to come to you in answer to - your imperative message. What’s the work in hand?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, this option for one thing; and then, too, I want you to help me put - the noose around the neck of that scoundrel who killed my son.” - </p> - <p> - “We’ll take one thing at a time, please,” replied the attorney, speaking - slowly and quietly. “So far as this option on the rancho is concerned, it - seems to be quite regular. Nevertheless, five million dollars is a whole - lot of money. Is there any danger of their forfeiting their option payment - of $100,000?” - </p> - <p> - “Danger? Forfeiting?” ejaculated Ben Thurston. “Well, I’m not at all - afraid of that. My fear now is that they may take up the option.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, didn’t you wish to make the sale?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but I am not getting money enough. The ranch is really worth ten - million dollars today, in cold cash. I have recently had some San - Francisco capitalists down here appraising it for me, but I had already - given the option.” - </p> - <p> - “I see that the agreement provides for your cattle and horses going in at - the stipulated price.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I don’t know why I should have been so infernally stupid. But you - see those Los Angeles fellows came over here one day in an automobile and - stayed all night. We had a sort of a tiff—didn’t agree very well—and - I let them start away the next morning without their breakfast—rather - uncivil, I’ll admit. After they had gone I got to thinking matters over, - and I sent a telephone message along the road to stop them and ask them to - come back. They returned all right. There was one of their number, this - fellow from some Title and Trust Company, who was pretty warm under the - collar, and, if I do say it myself, was as peeved as hell at me. Well, he - was the one who drew up the agreement, sitting here at this table. The - paper looked all right to me, and so I just went ahead and signed. I know - now they caught me for the $18,000 of taxes because I didn’t just insist - on having the option expire March 1st, instead of April 1st. But, to be - frank with you, I really didn’t much mind, for at that time I was only - keen to get their $100,000 for the option, never believing for a moment - that they would come across with the million-dollar first payment due - April 1st. You see the cattle and horses and all the stock on the ranch - was a sort of sheaf of oats that I hung out in order to get them to put up - their option money—just so much bait.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Hawkins shrugged his shoulders and said: “Well, Mr. Thurston, judging - from this inventory before me, you certainly hung up a most generous - bait.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t stop to think—that’s all there is to be said. All these - details hadn’t been worked out into cold figures at the time I gave the - option. When these men were here I just wanted to wheedle them into a - bargain which would leave a cool $100,000 in my hands. I never for one - moment believed they could make the million-dollar payment, although, by - God, I begin to realize the danger of their doing so now.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer looked up in silent surprise. Thurston continued: - </p> - <p> - “Of course I should have had this detailed valuation made before I went - into the deal. Up to the time I read that inventory I had no real idea of - the increased value of the property and what was on it. Oh, you may shake - your head; I’m not a good business man—never cared a damn for - business—and I know quite well I haven’t given enough attention to - the ranch. You see I have been living mostly in the East, for good - reasons. I don’t like it here at all—I’ve never felt safe in - California,” and he glanced nervously at the window of the room, as if - some enemy were lurking there. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Hawkins once more reached for the inventory, and carefully examined - the figures. Finally he said: “Pardon me, Mr. Thurston, for the - observation. But you should have sent for me <i>before</i> the option was - signed, if you did not really intend to carry out its terms. I find that - you have twenty-six thousand head of cattle, and you say that the price of - cattle is very high just now—that the whole herd ought to average - forty dollars a head. This item alone makes one million and forty thousand - dollars, or, in other words, if they exercise the option and pay you the - first million dollars, they will have forty thousand dollars more than the - payment which they make at that time.” The lawyer pencilled down the - figures while he spoke. - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston had been listening with a gloomy look on his brow. But when - he saw the figures translated into dollars he fairly bounced from his - chair, walked rapidly up and down the room, and then, coming to a sudden - halt, shouted: “By God, that’s where they got me again. I see it all now; - these fellows were a damned sight too smart for me. Well, Hawkins, you are - my attorney. I don’t want to go on with this deal, even if they are able - to dig up the money.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer puffed at his cigar, wholly undisturbed, and then replied: “Mr. - Thurston, you have already made a sale.” - </p> - <p> - “No, by God, I haven’t; nothing of the kind,” replied Thurston. “The truth - is that I should get ten million dollars for this ranch, and keep all my - horses and cattle, too. I don’t propose to be fleeced by that Los Angeles - outfit either,” he continued, running his hands through his hair. “I have - it; we’ll break the contract. I’ll bet that option is so faulty that you - can drive a load of hay right through it. Hunt up a flaw and we will send - them back their option money. I don’t want their $100,000 now.” - </p> - <p> - “I have already carefully studied the paper,” replied Hawkins, “and can - find no flaw in it. It was evidently drawn by a master hand.” - </p> - <p> - “Master hand be damned,” thundered Thurston. “Why, the stiff wasn’t even a - lawyer. He was just one of the syndicate—the one I told you about a - while back. He knows so cussed much about titles that the other fellows - let him write the option.” - </p> - <p> - “I see,” replied the attorney, as a half-smile flitted over his face; - “about all you seemingly had to do was to sign the option papers and count - the option money. The sole hope you have now, Mr. Thurston, in my opinion, - is for those Los Angeles gentlemen to let this valuable option lapse. You - have only a few days to wait.” - </p> - <p> - “But I haven’t told you the worst yet,” said Thurston sullenly, dropping - again into his chair. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “I had a long-distance telephone this morning from the First National Bank - at Los Angeles saying that the million dollars due April 1st has been - already paid in to my credit. But I won’t touch the money—I’ll be - damned if I do.” - </p> - <p> - “You have no choice but to accept it,” said the lawyer. “It would be - foolish to deceive yourself; San Antonio Rancho is sold, and with the - payment just made, you, by the terms of your contract, are compelled to - give immediate possession. I can only advise you to take your medicine - like a man, but don’t let those Los Angeles gentlemen know that you are - swallowing a bitter dose.” He refolded the papers, and pushed them across - the table. “Now, Mr. Thurston, if there is anything I can do to assist you - in the prosecution of your son’s murderer, I stand ready to do so.” Ben - Thurston arose. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. I’ll hang Dick Willoughby right enough in - good time. Meanwhile you tell me the rancho is sold—that I have lost - my great estate for less than half its value? Hell! Isn’t that enough for - one night?” And he stalked wrathfully out of the room, slamming the door - behind him. - </p> - <p> - “He sold at the wrong price,” mused the lawyer with a quiet smile. - “Perhaps he’ll be trying next to hang the wrong man.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII—Elusive Riches - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the meantime the - quartet at the store were making a night of it. With old Pierre Luzon - peacefully asleep in the adjoining room, there were many things to speak - about. Tom Baker recounted in elaborate detail his story of interviews - with the governor and state officials at Sacramento, the weary and - harassing delays before parole was finally granted, his own dogged - determination, together with the artful pulling of political strings that - had finally brought about the results desired. Then there was the trip to - San Quentin, the breaking of the joyful news to Pierre Luzon in his cell, - the delivery of the paroled convict into Tom’s hands, and the clever - solution of all further difficulties by hiring an automobile for the - journey south. The narrative was all very interesting, each listener - eagerly followed every word, and at the close Tom Baker’s chest had - expanded several inches. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you boys, there’s no man alive could have done what I did. The - business was in the right hands. If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t - have Pierre Luzon here tonight.” - </p> - <p> - “But if Pierre Luzon hadn’t written that letter,” growled Buck Ashley, - “you would never have started for Sacramento and San Quentin.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, all’s well that ends well,” discreetly interposed Munson, as he - raked the smouldering wood ashes together. “Gee, but its cold tonight.” - Jack Rover rose and tossed another log onto the fire. In a moment a bright - flame sprang up. - </p> - <p> - “The bottle’s empty,” observed the sheriff. “The next one’s on me, Buck.” - </p> - <p> - “Guess we’ll charge it to syndicate account,” grinned the storekeeper, - whose momentary grouch seemed to have been dissipated by the cheerful - blaze. “We’ll have to open books, boys, and go about things in a reg’lar - way,” he added, as he drew the bolt of the door that communicated with the - store and groped his way into the darkness beyond. - </p> - <p> - Buck needed no candle, and was soon back with another bottle of the - Kentucky bourbon. Glasses were filled and clinked and pledges of - brotherhood renewed. - </p> - <p> - “It’s champagne we’ll be drinkin’ tomorrow night, Buck, old sport,” - exclaimed Tom, slapping his old crony on the shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll long-distance Bakersfield for a case in the morning,” responded - Buck, genially. “By gosh, we’ll be swimmin’ in wine afore long, boys. - First thing I’ve got to do is to sell out this ‘ere store.” - </p> - <p> - “Sell it!” cried the sheriff, contemptuously. “You can afford to give it - away, Buck. We ain’t a-goin’ to be pikers in our old age, are we now?” - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t old by a danged sight,” snapped back the storekeeper, for Tom had - touched a sore spot once again. “Besides, when I’ve got a barrel of - Joaquin Murietta’s gold safe in the bank, you’ll see me friskin’ around - like a two-year-old colt,” he added, his momentary surliness changing to a - smile. - </p> - <p> - “And it ain’t only gold, boys,” said Tom Baker. “That ‘ere story old - Pierre told me about the grotto cavern havin’ a lake of oil in it as big - as a city block, sure ‘nuff got me goin’. Why, we’ll be able to blossom - out into oil kings.” - </p> - <p> - “What’s that?” asked Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Why, the Frenchie told me, you know, confidential like, comin’ along on - our motor car that since fifty years back those bandit fellers skimmed oil - from the surface of that lake and burned it in lamps down in that cavern.” - </p> - <p> - “By Jove, that’s interesting,” replied Munson. - </p> - <p> - “We know there is oil to the west, oil to the north, and oil to the south, - and it stands to reason there must be oil here as well.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” interposed Buck, “but old Ben Thurston would never allow any - drillin’ on his place.” - </p> - <p> - “Who the hell wants oil anyhow?” exclaimed Jack Rover. “We’ll have all the - money we need with the buried gold and Guadalupe’s placer mine.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but oil is oil,” replied the storekeeper, with a shrewd nod of his - head. “They say Rockefeller has only to raise the price a quarter of a - cent a gallon whenever he wants to give away another million or so to a - university or a hospital.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we ain’t interested in universities or hospitals,” said Tom Baker. - “But I agree with Buck that oil’s oil, and I, for one, intend to take - everything that’s comin’ to me. My God, we can afford to buy Ben Thurston - out and do some drillin’ for ourselves on San Antonio Rancho. It’ll help - to pass the time anyways.” As he finished, he began to pour out another - round of drinks. - </p> - <p> - “Help to keep you from the booze,” muttered Buck, in an inaudible aside. - But he drained his own glass and smacked his lips with satisfaction. - “Guess I’ll be gettin’ another bottle, boys,” he said aloud, genially. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, we’ve had enough,” mildly protested Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Not by a jugful,” replied Buck. “You and Jack ain’t goin’ to ride home - till mornin’, and there’s lots of things to be talked over yet.” - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott, it’s already two o’clock,” remarked Munson, consulting his - watch. - </p> - <p> - “Then the night’s still young, boys,” exclaimed Tom Baker, hilariously. - “Get the brew, Buck. The empty bottles will keep the tally. Come on, - lieutenant, drain your glass. No heel taps in this crowd.” - </p> - <p> - They had started their conversation in low tones so as not to disturb the - slumbers of Pierre Luzon. But this precaution, or act of delicate - consideration, had been long since forgotten. They were talking loud now, - and often all together, and when Buck Ashley had returned from yet another - pilgrimage to the store, none heard or noticed the door of the bedroom - being cautiously pushed open by just the fraction of an inch. - </p> - <p> - All four chairs had been again drawn around the cheerful log fire. - </p> - <p> - “You were talking, Tom, of buying out Ben Thurston,” remarked Jack Rover. - “Then you haven’t heard there’s an option been given to a Los Angeles - syndicate? Guess mebbe Ben Thurston won’t be the owner of the big rancho - very much longer.” - </p> - <p> - “And a good job, too,” replied the sheriff, as he helped himself to yet - another drink. - </p> - <p> - Buck Ashley shook his head incredulously. “Oh, lots of fellers have paid - down money for an option, as they call it, on the Thurston property, and - finally when the rub came they didn’t come across and live up to their - bargain, and so they just naturally lost their option money.” - </p> - <p> - “I was talking to a geologist,” intervened Munson, in whose mind the oil - question seemed to be still uppermost, “and he says there is every - indication that the Midway Oil fields, a few miles north, are not one whit - better than wells that can be opened up right here.” - </p> - <p> - “But what’s the use,” said Tom Baker, “of all the oil fields in California - to us fellers if we are about to be let into the secret door of a big - cavern where they’ve got twelve or fifteen millions of twenty-dollar gold - pieces stacked up, jest awaitin’ for us to take ‘em.” The whisky was - beginning to do its work; he had already forgotten his aspirations of - being an oil king. - </p> - <p> - “That’s right,” said Jack Rover, “and don’t forget, while you’re counting - them twenty-dollar gold pieces, that Pierre Luzon has promised to show us - the shallow riffle in the mountain stream where Guadalupe gets all that - placer gold.” In the cowboy’s case the alcohol was making only still more - fixed the one fixed idea in his brain. - </p> - <p> - “Damn this store business anyway,” said Buck Ashley, inconsequentially - returning to the theme that appealed to him most directly. “Do you ‘spose - I’m goin’ to work my fingers off tying up groceries after we find old - Murietta’s money and the White Wolf’s treasure? Not by one hell of a - sight, if I know myself, and I ‘low as how I do.” And at the slightly - opened bedroom door old Pierre, Luzon whom they all thought to be fast - asleep, was listening to every word! - </p> - <p> - “But there is one thing,” cried Tom Baker, striking the table fiercely as - he set down his glass, “I want you fellers to get next to yourselves now - and make up your mind to.” - </p> - <p> - “Wa’al, don’t stop, Tom,” said Rover. “Go on and tell us what you’re - thinking about. Get it off your chest, old man.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s just this way. By God, you fellers are not entitled to as much of - this ‘ere twelve or fifteen million dollars as I am, for I’m the feller - that went to the governor and got his parole and brought Pierre back here - to Tejon. Do you get me?” Buck Ashley had straightened up and looked at - Tom Baker with an ugly scowl on his face. “It was me,” he said, “got that - letter from Pierre Luzon and we all throwed in, share and share alike, all - five of us. And we’ll cut what we find, too, whether it’s one million or - fifteen million, into five equal parts, or there’ll be blood flowin good - and plenty.” - </p> - <p> - Baker staggered to his feet, steadied himself for a moment and began to - roll up his sleeves. - </p> - <p> - “There be some things,” he ejaculated, “that you jest can’t let wait and - settle up when the deal is all closed. I know what my rights are and you - fellers can’t bluff me, not by a derned sight.” - </p> - <p> - “Hold on, hold on, gentlemen,” interposed Munson. “Let’s not commence - quarreling about something we are not even sure we shall ever see. Of - course we hope to be escorted into the cavern by old Pierre Luzon, and we - likewise hope that he’ll find a hidden treasure. And by the way, Buck, - this reminds me—the cut has to be into six equal parts, not five, - for we owe Luzon the squarest of square deals.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m not agin’ that,” muttered Buck. “I just didn’t remember him.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” resumed Munson, “why quarrel about something that is as yet - nothing but a myth? It occurs to me that we should rather, individually - and collectively, be exceedingly thankful that Pierre Luzon is alive, and - that the White Wolf is dead, and that the one man who holds the secret has - promised to show us this treasure.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve never believed one cussed word about the White Wolf being dead,” - growled Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it sure was in the newspapers,” said Tom Baker, turning down his - sleeves and resuming his seat. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it sure was in the newspapers,” replied Buck, “and they jest seemed - to settle the fact, leastways to their own satisfaction. But I’ve been - a-thinkin’ about Dick Willoughby. I don’t believe he ever killed Marshall - Thurston, I don’t.” - </p> - <p> - “Whoever did kill him,” put in Jack Rover, “did it good and plenty. Put - the shot right square through his heart.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Tom Baker, reaching for more whisky, “I ain’t got much to - say, but what I says I stands to on this ‘ere subject, and that is—” - Almost with one accord all turned at the creaking of the bedroom door, and - <i>there</i> was Pierre Luzon, looking as if he had seen a ghost. His - short prison-cropped hair seemed to be standing on end like bristles, and - his eyes stared wildly at the four men. At last he cried out in a shrill - voice that was almost a scream: - </p> - <p> - “Ze son of Ben Thurston killed! Ah, ha!” he laughed, hysterically. “Shot - through ze heart!—vengeance at last begins! Ze White Wolf is not - dead! He is one live man!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0205.jpg" alt="0205 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0205.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The door was hastily closed with a loud bang, and the weird figure - vanished like an apparition. - </p> - <p> - For a few moments the revellers sat in stupefied silence. Finally Buck - Ashley said in a low voice: “Damn that whisky anyhow. It has made us talk - too loud.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” remarked Tom Baker, “and also too dangnation much, I’m a-thinkin’.” - </p> - <p> - Both were sober men now. - </p> - <p> - “Believe I’ll have a snooze,” said Jack rover, seating himself on an old - lounge in a corner of the room. But he did not lie down. - </p> - <p> - Nothing more was said for perhaps a full half hour; all were nodding or - busy with their brooding thoughts. - </p> - <p> - At last Buck Ashley rose and tiptoed toward the bedroom. - </p> - <p> - “Guess I’ll see if poor Pierre has gone to sleep again,” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - A moment later he shouted out from the inner chamber: - </p> - <p> - “Hell, boys!—he’s gone! He’s given us the slip—the damned old - jail-bird!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX—The Jail Delivery - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ROUND Dick - Willoughby there had been woven a web of circumstantial evidence that even - before his trial had convinced most people of his guilt. Only a few tried - friends who absolutely refused to believe him capable of shooting down an - unarmed man from ambush clung to their faith that he had had nothing to do - with the slaying of young Marshall Thurston. Among the general public the - only question in discussion was whether the jury were likely to find - extenuating circumstances and, should the life of the prisoner come to be - spared, how long would be his sentence. - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston had lavished money with a free hand toward securing every - possible piece of testimony in support of the prosecution, and before his - return home even the cautious New York lawyer, Mr. Hawkins, had admitted - that the case against Willoughby appeared to be conclusive. It was only a - matter of a few weeks now when Thurston would be leaving the district. - </p> - <p> - Already San Antonio Rancho was in possession of the syndicate; their - foreman was in charge, the stock under their control, and it was only out - of consideration that the former owner was being permitted to linger a - little longer in residence. But for the gloomy and morose man there seemed - to be gloating satisfaction in the grim thought that before shaking off - forever the dust of his old home he would first of all ensure the hanging - of his son’s murderer. - </p> - <p> - Among the most regular visitors at the jail were the ladies of La Siesta, - and rumor now began to run around that Miss Merle Farnsworth, despite - Willoughby’s pleading that she should not mix her name up in the case, - would offer some surprising evidence in favor of the accused man—evidence - that might not exonerate Willoughby from responsibility for the deed, but - perhaps would fully justify his act to the minds of the jurymen. - </p> - <p> - It was now only three days from the trial, and the whole county was agog - with expectation. - </p> - <p> - That night in the small hours five masked men rode very quietly through - the streets to the vicinity of the jail. All were heavily armed, and one - of them was leading an extra saddle horse. The party dismounted under the - shadow of some trees. One man held the horses, while his four companions, - with drawn revolvers, advanced to the gateway. Whether it was a simple - case of cowardly yielding to threats, or whether there had been - preliminary financial greasing of locks and bolts, aided perhaps by - sympathy for the prisoner, the fact remains that within a very few minutes - Dick Willoughby had been brought from his cell. - </p> - <p> - “You are a free man, Mr. Willoughby,” said the leader of the masked band - in a low voice. “You will come with us.” - </p> - <p> - “Who are you?” asked Dick. - </p> - <p> - “We are friends—that is enough.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no wish to go,” protested Dick in the hearing of the jailers. “The - jury must acquit me—I am ready to remain here until they do acquit - me.” - </p> - <p> - “Take care. The man with the money can put the rope round your neck.” - </p> - <p> - “I am not afraid.” - </p> - <p> - “There is another reason. The name of a certain young lady must not be - introduced into this case.” - </p> - <p> - “I have begged her not to testify.” - </p> - <p> - “But she will testify if this trial goes on—that you know well. Now - you will come with us, for her sake if not for your own.” - </p> - <p> - “Be it so then,” replied Dick. “Lead the way.” Just as quietly as they had - come the little band of riders rode through the silent and deserted - streets. They took the southern road, and for the first few miles kept to - the thoroughfare. Then, reaching a stretch of unreclaimed land, they - started across country. The night was moonless and dark, but Dick knew - instinctively that they were making for the mountainous country to the - north of the Tejon Pass. - </p> - <p> - The leader rode a short distance ahead. Not a word was spoken. In about - two hours they were among the foothills. The pace slackened, and then, as - they reached a clump of oaks, a halt was called. From under the shadow of - the trees a man appeared, leading two sturdy little mountain ponies. The - newcomer wore no mask. - </p> - <p> - “This man will be your guide from now on,” announced the leader, whose - features were still concealed by the strip of black cloth tied around the - lower part of his face. “I am sorry we must ask you to wear a blindfold, - Mr. Willoughby. But you are among friends, and I feel sure you will help - us all by your ready assent.” - </p> - <p> - “I am in your hands,” replied Dick, quietly. A few minutes later he was - seated on one of the ponies, his eyes securely bandaged. The saddle was a - big comfortable Mexican one, and he rested his hands on the horn; for - there was no bridle, only a leading rein held by the man mounted on the - other pony. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Adios!</i>” - </p> - <p> - It was the leader’s voice again, and now once more Dick was on the move, - the nimble little pony cantering gently over the turf. - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0006.jpg" alt="0006 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0006.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Hour succeeded hour. The sun had risen, as the blindfolded rider could - tell from the warmth of the atmosphere. The canter had long since changed - to a walk, and Dick knew that they had been climbing steadily, with many a - turn and sometimes up precipitous slopes. - </p> - <p> - At last a strange chilliness came into the air. Dick imagined that he - heard a growl, as of some savage animal. Then there came a stop, and he - caught some whispered words—a woman’s voice he could have sworn, - speaking in some strange tongue. After a few minutes his pony started - again. - </p> - <p> - But they had not gone more than a hundred yards further when his guide - called out. - </p> - <p> - “Here we are, sir. I will help you to descend. Zen I take ze bandage away. - You see again.” - </p> - <p> - The voice had a quaint foreign accent. For a little time Willoughby - remained blind. Then he began to see things, and involuntarily rubbed his - eyes in amazement. - </p> - <p> - He was in a vast vaulted cavern with no visible entrance revealed by the - dim light of several lanterns suspended from the roof. In the far distance - a log fire was burning, and silhouetted against its ruddy glow was the - figure of the aged Indian squaw, Guadalupe, with a great dog-like creature - standing by her side. - </p> - <p> - “Guadalupe!” exclaimed Dick in profound surprise, turning to his guide. - </p> - <p> - This man he now saw was old, with short gray hair and a short gray beard. - His face was pale, but there was a pleasant gleam in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Guadalupe,” the guide replied. “Guadalupe, she guard ze entrance to - our cave—she and ze white wolf. No one can get past ze white wolf - unless Guadalupe speaks ze word.” - </p> - <p> - “And who are you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, call me Pierre. I am Mr. Willoughby’s servant. Here are fine - beefsteaks ready for breakfast. Come.” - </p> - <p> - “Pierre!” murmured Dick. “Pierre Luzon?” - </p> - <p> - “Zat is my name. I am Pierre Luzon.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX—In the Cavern - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN Dick proceeded - to follow Pierre Luzon he found that the ponies had already trotted away - through the semidarkness, evidently quite capable on their own account of - finding their accustomed stable. Leading the way across the cavern, Pierre - entered a corridor at the far end of which bright lights were burning. - Soon, Dick, to his great wonderment, found himself in a comfortably, - almost luxuriously furnished apartment. - </p> - <p> - There were big thick rugs on the floor, and the rock walls were completely - hidden by tapestries. The dining table in the centre was set with napery, - china, glass, cutlery and silverware that would have done credit to a - first-class hotel. Above swung a bronze lamp of antique pattern. Another - table was laden with books, newspapers and magazines. In one corner - gleamed the snow-white counterpane of a massive bedstead built of oak in - Old Mission style. Here and there portable oil stoves were burning, - diffusing a genial warmth throughout the grotto. - </p> - <p> - Pierre watched the guest’s look of bewilderment as he gazed around him. - </p> - <p> - “You will be very comfortable here,” said the Frenchman. “I have orders to - attend to all your wants.” - </p> - <p> - “Orders, from whom?” asked Dick abruptly. “After breakfast you will know. - I have one letter for you in my pocket.” - </p> - <p> - With characteristic philosophy Dick accepted the situation. The very - mention of breakfast gave a keener edge to an already sharply whetted - appetite. Pierre departed and presently returned with a superb sirloin - steak sizzling on a hot platter. Under his arm was tucked a bottle of - wine. As he set down the latter, Dick noted that it was dusty and - cobwebby, as if it had emerged from some ancient cellar. - </p> - <p> - “Zis is not ze vintage of California,” remarked Pierre, as he drew the - cork. “It is rare old Burgundy—all ze way from my beloved France.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>La belle</i> France,” murmured Dick. “I spent a year there, Pierre, - most of the time in Paris.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, monsieur knows France and Paris,” exclaimed the old man in great - delight. “Zen you speak French, too?” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Un peu</i>,” laughed Dick. “<i>Mais je fais beaucoup de fautes, mon - ami</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Non, non, monsieur</i>,” cried Pierre, breaking into voluble French. - “Your accent is perfect—it is delightful to hear my native language - again. We shall be great friends, Mr. Willoughby. Already I am your - devoted servant.” He bowed deferentially, as he held Dick’s chair ready - for him to be seated. - </p> - <p> - “You will breakfast with me, Pierre?” asked Dick, still in his best - French. - </p> - <p> - “No, no. I wait on monsieur. I shall breakfast in good time.” - </p> - <p> - Pierre was not to be persuaded to take a place at the table, so Dick sat - down in solitary state and was served in lordly fashion. - </p> - <p> - With the <i>demi-tasse</i> of black coffee at the close of the meal came a - box of cigars—cigars fit for a prince, as Dick knew from the first - fragrant whiff. - </p> - <p> - The table was now cleared and Pierre ready to withdraw. He had taken a - letter from his pocket and was holding it in his hand. But Dick, warmed - and fed and supremely contented, was watching the ascending rings of - tobacco smoke. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know, Pierre,” he said between complacent puffs, “that I was one - of the bunch that helped to get you out of San Quentin?” He had lapsed - into English. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, I know,” replied Pierre, also dropping his French. “Ze five men - who made up ze purse—I am very grateful to you all.” - </p> - <p> - “Then what about the hidden treasure?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I was to show ze hidden treasure. But one great change come about. I - made one big mistake.” - </p> - <p> - “Then the story of all this gold was a frame-up, was it?” laughed - Willoughby. - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” protested Pierre earnestly. “Ze cave—you are here in ze - cave, although you do not know ze secret hiding place. Ze treasure, it is - here, too. But I can no longer show ze gold, for ze man to whom it all - belong he is not dead—he is alive.” - </p> - <p> - “Whom do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel de Valencia—him you call ze White Wolf.” - </p> - <p> - “Great guns! So he has appeared again. The newspaper stories were all - wrong?” - </p> - <p> - “Zat is how I made my mistake. But I did not know until I came back to - Tehachapi. Ze White Wolf is alive. It is he who has brought you here as - his guest. Now you will read zis letter, and zen all things you will - comprehend.” - </p> - <p> - Pierre laid the missive on the damask table cloth in front of Dick. The - latter fastened his eyes on it in speechless surprise. Before he recovered - himself Pierre, lifting the tray of empty dishes, had noiselessly - disappeared. - </p> - <p> - “Mystery upon mystery,” murmured Dick as he broke the seal. The letter was - a brief one, and began without any of the usual forms of personal address: - </p> - <blockquote> - <p> - “You are in safe and honorable keeping. Have no care. Nor need you worry - about your friends—they will be informed of your safety. - </p> - <p> - “Just as soon as possible the real slayer of Marshall Thurston will be - revealed. You will be completely exonerated and can then return to the - world, a free man. By this means a certain young lady will be spared from - the gossip and the publicity which, although she has been brave enough to - say it does not matter, would bring for her annoyance and pain. - </p> - <p> - “If she is dear to you, as the writer of this letter believes, you will - help to shield her from vulgar curiosity by remaining quietly where you - are until the proper hour for your deliverance comes. It is only necessary - for you to give your word of honor to Pierre Luzon that you will make no - attempt to escape or reveal your whereabouts. Your trustfulness will be - rewarded—this is the solemn promise of - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel de Valencia, - </p> - <p> - “Your friend.” - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - Dick read and re-read the strange message. All at once he became conscious - that Pierre Luzon was again standing by his chair. Their eyes met. - </p> - <p> - “Does Mr. Willoughby give ze promise required?” asked Pierre. - </p> - <p> - Dick rose to his feet and extended his hand. - </p> - <p> - “I promise, Pierre. You have my word of honor. The letter says that is - enough.” - </p> - <p> - “I have read ze letter before it was sealed. We all know Mr. Willoughby’s - word is enough—it is as good as one gold bond.” - </p> - <p> - “I’d do anything for Merle Farnsworth,” continued Dick, carried away by - his fervid emotion. “I would die for her, if need be, to save her from one - moment’s pain.” - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel he know that,” replied Pierre. Dick paused and his look - changed. - </p> - <p> - “How the devil does he know I love the girl?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Ah! Don Manuel he - know everything. But now, I am under orders not to speak. Over there you - will find ze latest newspapers, sir,” he went on, pointing to the table - laden with literature, “and every few days more will be brought for you—not - only ze newspapers of Los Angeles and San Francisco, but also, ze - newspapers of New York and London and Paris, all of which monsieur is - accustomed to read.” - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott, you seem to know,” exclaimed Dick in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - Pierre continued placidly: - </p> - <p> - “And you play chess. There is a box of chess—<i>échecs</i> we call - it in France, you will remember. I too play ze game. Don Manuel and I used - to spend many hours over ze board. After I have had my breakfast, I, - Pierre Luzon, challenge you to one game of chess.” - </p> - <p> - “Be it so,” laughed Dick. “But you must be hungry, man. For heaven’s sake - go and eat. We’ll yarn later on. Meanwhile, I’ll have a glance through the - newspapers.” - </p> - <p> - Dick handled the newspapers with renewed surprise—the very New York - papers he was accustomed to receive regularly, also the old familiar. <i>Times - Weekly</i> from London and the Paris <i>Figaro</i> to which he had - subscribed ever since the old Quartier Latin days! The same with the - magazines—all his favorites were on the table. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’ll be blowed! Is it the guileless Sing Ling whom Don Manuel has - been tapping for information? This certainly looks like home,” and again - he glanced over the table. He looked at the titles of the books—several - of the latest novels, a volume on socialism, another on the history of - architecture. - </p> - <p> - “Seems to know my book tastes, too. I won’t be lonesome, that’s certain. - Well, I can’t do better than make a start with the newspapers. I’ve fallen - quite behind the times.” - </p> - <p> - He stretched himself out on a long rattan chair, and started with a Los - Angeles daily. He had read lazily on for nearly an hour, when there came - from his lips a little cry of surprise. - </p> - <p> - Starting up into a sitting posture, Dick again perused the paragraph that - had excited his special interest. - </p> - <p> - It was an announcement stating that an ideal city was about to be built in - the Tehachapi valley, and that a prize of ten thousand dollars was to be - awarded to the designer of the best plans for laying out such a town. - Reference was made to an advertisement on another page giving the details - and the rules of the competition. To this Dick eagerly turned. - </p> - <p> - The advertisement set forth that the model city was to be located - somewhere near the centre of San Antonio Rancho, that the land was - traversed by the state highway, by two railroads, by two electric power - lines and two oil-carrying pipe lines, also the great Owen’s River - aqueduct that supplied Los Angeles, some two hundred miles away, with - water from the high Sierras. It was further stated that the entire ranch - was to be subdivided into small tracts, and that already hundreds of - applicants were waiting to make choice of home sites just so soon as the - survey work was completed and the land thrown open to selection. - </p> - <p> - The plans required, and for which the prize of ten thousand dollars was - offered, were to show the finest landscape effects, the most impressive - and convenient location of public buildings, the most attractive ideas for - bringing into being a veritable ideal city provided with all the most - modern conveniences and sanitary equipment. - </p> - <p> - “By gad, I’d like to have a shot at that,” murmured Willoughby as he lay - back in his chair and meditated. - </p> - <p> - After a time he picked up the London journal, and the very first thing - that met his eye was the identical advertisement on the back of the cover. - He rose and began to search through the week’s file of the <i>Figaro</i>, - and there again he found the announcement of the contest. He was too - keenly excited now for more reading. He began to pace the chamber. What a - clever head had planned all this world-wide publicity! - </p> - <p> - “That Los Angeles bunch of fellows are certainly great. They are evidently - going into this thing right. Doubtless they are determined to build the - ideal—the model—city of California. They want the best brains - of all lands to help beautify the place. Gee! but I’d like to be in this - contest game. But perhaps it would be presumption on my part. Yet, who - knows the country better than I do? When it comes to landscape effects, - I’m Johnny-on-the-spot all right. And they’re in a hurry—only sixty - days for the drawings. Unusual, such a short time. But I guess they’re - going to make the dust fly without a week’s unnecessary delay. They are - certainly live wires—they began by getting old Ben Thurston on the - run.” - </p> - <p> - He was chuckling to himself at the thought when Pierre reappeared. - </p> - <p> - “Pierre, old fellow,” cried Dick, “would you be able to get me a drawing - board, a box of instruments, india ink, water-colors, drawing paper, and - so on?” - </p> - <p> - “What are you going to do?” asked the old man with a smile. “Do you think - you are again in ze Quartier Latin, Mr. Willoughby?” - </p> - <p> - “No. But while I’m here I’m going back to the old Quartier Latin life, - that’s a cinch. Can you buy me that stuff?” he added, diving into his hip - pocket. - </p> - <p> - But he had forgotten—he had come out of jail, and his personal - possessions had been left behind. - </p> - <p> - Pierre Luzon, however, had interpreted both the gesture and the thought - that had prompted it. - </p> - <p> - “You need no money here, Mr. Willoughby,” he said. “My orders are to get - you everything you call for. Write all you need on a piece of paper. I - send a trusty messenger, and we have ze drawing paper, ze instruments, ze - ink and ze paints here very soon—yes, very soon.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, by thunder, I’m going to win that ten-thousand-dollar prize.” - </p> - <p> - “But she is worth millions of dollars.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Ze young lady—she very rich young lady, Miss Merle.” - </p> - <p> - Dick laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that’s quite another prize, Pierre,” he replied. “And if she is so - very rich, as you say, why that puts her further out of my reach than - ever.” - </p> - <p> - Pierre nodded his head determinedly. - </p> - <p> - “If I was you, Mr. Willoughby, ze prize I would try to win is ze beautiful - young lady.” - </p> - <p> - When Pierre had gone, Dick again lay back in the long chair. But he was - day-dreaming and love-dreaming now, wondering whether Merle Farnsworth - really cared for him, whether he might dare whisper to her the story of - his passionate love. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI—A Debt of Honor - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>UBLIC excitement - had been running high over the approaching trial of Dick Willoughby, but - his delivery from jail by the masked night-riders came as the culminating - climax. Mystery and romance were piling up. Despite the strength of the - circumstantial evidence, the sudden fate that had overtaken the young heir - to San Antonio rancho had been shrouded with uncertainty; no witness had - seen the actual doing of the murderous deed. The sensational arrest of - Dick Willoughby had been followed by his still more sensational - disappearance; for he seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth—he - had been spirited to some place of concealment to which there was not the - slightest clue, while also the identity of his rescuers remained a - profound enigma. - </p> - <p> - All sorts of speculations were rife, and it was small wonder that the name - of the famous bandit, Don Manuel, came to be revived. This was just the - sort of audacious work the White Wolf would have gloried in—breaking - into a prison, defying the authorities, leaving behind him a trail of - mystery and vague terror. But shrewd old-timers pointed out that Don - Manuel had never in his whole career helped a gringo—that his hand - had been against every American, and that in his earlier days at all - events he had killed ruthlessly, out of sheer lust for vengeance against - the race of newcomers who had despoiled him of his ancestral acres. What - reason, therefore, could he have had to help Dick Willoughby to liberty? - Even if it had been the outlaw’s hand that had pulled the trigger against - the son of his hated enemy, Ben Thurston, little would he have cared if a - score of gringos had come to their end, justly or unjustly, as an - aftermath of the tragedy. - </p> - <p> - Old Ben Thurston had discussed this very question with himself. The - slaying of his only son, the clever business deal that had called his own - tricky and dishonest bluff and lost him his principality, the sight of his - herds being driven away, the approaching eviction from his home—all - these events crowding one upon the other had exasperated him beyond - measure and completed the change of the already grouchy, disgruntled man - into a veritable wild beast snapping and snarling at everyone. Yet his - mind was completely obsessed by the idea that it was Dick Willoughby, and - Dick Willoughby alone, who had shot his son, so there was no room in his - small and obfuscated brain for any seriously renewed apprehension that his - old enemy, the White Wolf, had come to life again. - </p> - <p> - Dick’s escape from jail almost gave Ben Thurston a fit of apoplexy. It was - the sleuth, Leach Sharkey, who alone of those around him ventured to break - the news. After his first paroxysm of wrath, Thurston paced the room like - a caged animal. He had begun to make a confidant of this man, his constant - attendant, the protector with the handy guns in his hip pockets on whom he - had come to rely night and day, the one associate who phlegmatically - endured his irritable moods and abusive language. - </p> - <p> - So, in Leach Sharkey’s presence, Thurston, as he walked to and fro, spoke - his thoughts aloud. - </p> - <p> - “Damn all pretty faces, anyhow. First and last they have cost me a fine - sum. And now it is a pretty face that has cost me my boy’s life. It’s - hell, that’s what it is. But I will have my revenge. I’ll hang Dick - Willoughby with my own hands if necessary—even if it is the last act - of my life I’ll have his neck stretched for him.” - </p> - <p> - He was glaring down at the sleuth, and the pause seemed to call for some - reply. - </p> - <p> - “Well, he’s given us the slip for the present,” Sharkey ventured. Then he - caught the gathering fury in the other’s eyes, and hurriedly went on: “But - there is no question in the world we’ll run the scoundrel down. I myself - will shoot him like the dog he is the moment I lay my two eyes on him.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, don’t waste your breath telling me you are going to do it,” growled - Thurston. “Hunt him down. Take all the money you need. Get all the men you - can. Search every canyon. Guard every road out of the hill country. And - don’t be misled by that damn fool talk about the White Wolf of which - you’ve been telling me. That cursed outlaw is dead—dead as a - herring. I ran the story of his death to earth—stood on his very - grave in the potters’ field at Seattle. Dick Willoughby’s the outlaw now. - Get him at any cost. Get him, or, by God, lose your own job, Leach - Sharkey. Do you follow me?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I follow you,” replied the sleuth, a sardonic smile still further - exposing the teeth that were the most prominent feature of his face and at - all times gave him a hyena-like appearance. “I’ll get him, make no - mistake, Mr. Thurston. Just draw me that check, and I’ll have twenty more - men out on the range before morning.” - </p> - <p> - At the store, Dick Willoughby’s disappearance was for days the sole topic - of conversation. One morning Tom Baker and Buck Ashley were gossiping - together. - </p> - <p> - “What beats me,” remarked the storekeeper, “is that Chester Munson wears - such a spry look. He was Dick’s closest chum, yet he don’t seem to be one - bit anxious.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he’s got the word, make no mistake,” replied Tom. “Although the - lieutenant is as close as wax, he knows Dick’s all right, for sure. And - I’m told that up at La Siesta, where Dick has his girl, you know, they’re - still a-playin’ the pianner and the fiddle all the time. Mark my words—there’s - been some wireless telephone at work. Munson don’t worry, his lady friends - don’t worry, so I begin to think we’re a couple of derned old fools to - fret ourselves on Dick’s account.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s about Pierre Luzon I’m frettin’ most,” Buck Ashley rejoined. “To - think that that damned Frenchman should have done us in the eye, got clean - away and robbed us of our share of the buried treasure—that’s what - worries me, Tom Baker. And you’ll allow now you made a mess of things by - not havin’ the old convict shackled to the bedpost.” - </p> - <p> - “A mess of things!” cried the sheriff, rising anger in his voice and eyes. - “You won’t keep your mouth shut till I teach you—” - </p> - <p> - But just then there was the clatter of hoofs outside, and Tom stopped in - the middle of his sentence. A moment later Munson and Jack Rover entered - in a state of visible excitement. Munson carried in his arms a rotund - canvas sack tied at the neck. The package was not very big, but clearly of - considerable weight. - </p> - <p> - “Great Caesar,” exclaimed the lieutenant, without pausing to give any - greeting. “A most surprising thing has happened. When I awoke this morning - I found this bag lying on my table. And what do you think it contains?” As - he asked the question he dumped the sack on the counter with a heavy thud. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve got us guessin’,” drawled Tom. - </p> - <p> - “Ten thousand, five hundred dollars in gold!” announced Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Good Lord!” ejaculated the sheriff in great surprise. - </p> - <p> - Munson went on: - </p> - <p> - “Five thousand dollars are for the French warder at San Quentin who - smuggled Pierre Luzon’s letter out of the prison, and the balance is for - the syndicate.” - </p> - <p> - “What syndicate?” gasped Buck, for the moment quite bewildered. - </p> - <p> - “The Hidden Treasure Syndicate, of course,” exclaimed Jack Rover. “Pierre - Luzon has sent each man back the hundred dollars he put up to get him out - of the pen, and five thousand dollars extra to divide among us.” - </p> - <p> - Buck and Tom sprang simultaneously to their feet. - </p> - <p> - “Hooroosh!” shouted the sheriff. “I always knew there was no yellow streak - in old Pierre Luzon.” - </p> - <p> - “And I always said I liked him, too,” observed Buck. “But come into the - parlor, boys,” he went on, with a cautious look around. “Let’s count the - money.” - </p> - <p> - “And divvy it up,” added Tom eagerly. “Gosh ‘lmighty, boys! I’ve never yet - seen a thousand dollars in gold at one time outside a bank cashier’s - window. And to think there’s that amount cornin’ to me right now!” - </p> - <p> - “One thousand, one hundred, pal, to be exact,” laughed Jack Rover, lifting - the package and following the storekeeper into the sanctum beyond the - counter. - </p> - <p> - The gold was in United States twenty-dollar pieces, bearing dates which - showed they had been minted more than twenty years ago. - </p> - <p> - “Some of Joaquin Murietta’s loot,” remarked Jack Rover, when attention had - been drawn to this detail. - </p> - <p> - “No,” observed Tom Baker, holding up the coin he had been examining, - “Murietta wasn’t alive when this ‘ere gold piece came from the mint. This - is some of Don Manuel’s stuff.” - </p> - <p> - “The White Wolf!” exclaimed Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, the White Wolf,” continued the sheriff. “So if the White Wolf ain’t - dead, as Pierre declared that night—” Tom gazed at the bedroom door - as if the spectral figure might reappear—“he’s honorin’ the - Frenchie’s sight draft, that’s sure.” - </p> - <p> - “I see,” said Munson. “He is paying the five thousand dollars old Pierre - promised in his letter if he was helped to freedom and five thousand - dollars besides.” - </p> - <p> - “Precisely,” Tom Baker replied. “But if the White Wolf is dead, as most - folks say, then the Frenchie’s got the key to the treasure vault, all - right.” - </p> - <p> - “So we’ve got to get him back here again, boys,” murmured Buck, rubbing - his hands while his eyes feasted upon the heap of gold. “I don’t mind - boardin’ Pierre Luzon for a spell, and he can have all the bourbon he - wants.” - </p> - <p> - “Till he tells us where Guadalupe gets her nuggets,” grinned Jack. “But - you’ve forgotten to show ‘em, Munson, the card that came with the coin.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes,” rejoined Munson, drawing a small piece of pasteboard from his - pocket. “It is brief enough. Luzon gives his countryman’s family address - in Marseilles where the first five thousand dollars is to be mailed. Then - he writes down our five names, Dick Willoughby’s first, and says the five - of us are to share equally.” He passed the card to Tom Baker for - inspection, and went on: “Jack and I are going to ride over to - Bakersfield, get the French bank draft and put Dick’s money in the bank - along with our own.” - </p> - <p> - “Where’s Dick?” asked Buck, with a quick uplift of his eyes into Munson’s - face. - </p> - <p> - But the latter was not to be betrayed into divulging any information that - might be in his possession. - </p> - <p> - “I have not the slightest idea,” he replied airily. “But I feel sure - Dick’s all right. He is the sort of fellow well able to look after - himself. Meanwhile, Jack and I will attend to his financial interests,” he - added with a laugh, as he began to count the gold. - </p> - <p> - In silence the task proceeded, five thousand dollars first being set - aside, and then the balance divided into five separate heaps. When all - were satisfied as to the correctness of the distribution, Munson swept the - gold back into the sack, except for the two little piles allotted to - Ashley and Baker. Then he securely tied the package, ready for the ride to - Bakersfield. - </p> - <p> - “Buck will lock mine in his safe, boys,” exclaimed Tom Baker. “Gosh me, - but I’ll want to look at it two or three times a day.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m drivin’ over to the bank myself tomorrer,” declared Buck. “I’ve - got a bit more to add to this pile.” - </p> - <p> - “A few handfuls of nuggets, I suppose,” laughed Rover. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’ll allow Guadalupe always pays her grocery bills. But this ‘ere - store ain’t goin’ to be a safe deposit vault, not on your demed life, with - bandits around again. So you’d better arrange to come with me to town - tomorrer, Tom.” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll need me to help you home, perhaps,” grinned the sheriff. “But, I - say, Munson, you ain’t told us yet how this sack came to be delivered at - your place.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s a proper mystery for you!” cried Munson. “As I said before, I - found the bag this morning, lying on my dressing table. Sing Ling was the - only one besides myself in the shack, and he never heard a sound all - night.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re still in Dick’s old home?” asked Buck. “Yes, but I leave tomorrow—have - notice to quit, for some surveyor chaps are coming in. I’m moving up to - Mr. Robles’ place. He wants me to catalog the books in his library.” - </p> - <p> - “And Sing Ling?” queried Tom. - </p> - <p> - “He goes, too. You see, Mr. Robles needs a crackerjack cook, now I’ll be - boarding with him,” Munson laughed, gaily. “You don’t happen to have a - porterhouse steak about the place, Buck?” - </p> - <p> - “I can heat you up a can of pork and beans.” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing doing! Jack and I wouldn’t spoil our appetites with such truck as - that. We’re going to set up a chicken dinner in Bakersfield.” - </p> - <p> - “Chicken and champagne,” chimed in Jack, as he swung the sack over his - shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “You’re beginning to get big bugs these days,” called out the storekeeper - as the young men left the room. “Guess, Tom,” he went on, turning to the - sheriff, “we could do with a jolt of Kentucky.” - </p> - <p> - “Make it a bottle of bourbon,” gurgled Tom, “to remind us of our absent - friend.” - </p> - <p> - “Dear old Pierre,” murmured Buck, as he fumbled in his pocket for the key - of the safe, his eyes glued all the time on the two little heaps of gold. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII—Underqround Wonders - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ick Willoughby was - in a way happy in his retreat. At first he had been inclined to regret the - jail delivery—it might have been the manlier part to have faced the - music and cleared his name before the whole world. But then he reflected - on the uncertainties of a trial, the cases of innocent men having suffered - because of damning circumstantial evidence piled up against them, the - vindictiveness of Ben Thurston and the undoubted power of his money to - press the criminal charge by every unscrupulous means. So Dick soon came - round to the belief that he might be safer for the time being in the - guardianship of the White Wolf than at the mercy of a fallible jury. - </p> - <p> - Then there was Merle Farnsworth to consider. Yes; to have brought her into - a public court, to have allowed her to plead for him by telling the story - of Marshall Thurston’s loathsome advances—that was a thing that - could never have been tolerated. The leader of the jail-breaking gang had - been right; Dick owed it to Merle to save her from such a cruel ordeal. - </p> - <p> - Finally Dick’s contentment over his change of quarters was completed when - Pierre Luzon appeared with a superb equipment of drawing instruments and - materials. There was no time to worry now over surmises as to the wisdom - of this course or the other course. Work lay to his hand—work of the - most absorbing and delightful kind; and with all the ambitious enthusiasm - of his temperament he tackled it whole-heartedly there and then. Hour - after hour, day after day, Pierre watched in contemplative silence the - methodical advancement of the task to which the young architect had - applied himself. - </p> - <p> - But there were frequent intervals for conversation, sometimes in French, - sometimes in English, as the mood prompted. Occasionally Pierre drifted - into semi-confidential reminiscences, and Willoughby soon came to know in - close detail the story of Don Manuel’s life—the tragedy of his - sister Rosetta’s death, the vow of vengeance against Ben Thurston, the - early bandit days when the White Wolf counted every gringo in the land his - natural enemy, the often hairbreadth escapes of the outlaw, his sublime - courage and nerve in the direst emergencies. - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel was one great man,” remarked Pierre at the close of one of - these confidences—the phrase was a favorite one with the old - Frenchman. “Many and many a time he could have shot his enemy from a - distance and got away. But Don Manuel had vowed zat he would kill him hand - to hand—zat ze villain must die with a last malediction in his ear, - and knowing zat it was he, ze White Wolf, who in ze end had revenged his - sister’s shame.” - </p> - <p> - “He felt, too, didn’t he, that his father had been wronged in being driven - from San Antonio Rancho?” - </p> - <p> - “Sure—zat was another great wrong—zat was why Don Manuel was - so bitter against all ze Americans. But he made zem pay for ze land many - and many times over.” Then Pierre, as was now his custom in Dick’s - presence when speaking at any length, lapsed into French as he continued: - “But the White Wolf was a man of high honor. He never used any of the - proceeds of his robberies for himself. True, he spent the money to pay his - band, to pay the numerous scouts and spies whose services he secretly - retained, to plan and accomplish further hold-ups, to defy and outwit the - authorities. But on his own needs—never—not one dollar!” - </p> - <p> - Pierre went on to explain that after Ben Thurston had fled from California - and kept away in hiding, Don Manuel had visited Spain, to claim the family - estates in Valencia to which his father’s death had left him the sole - heir. These he had sold for many millions of dollars, and most of that - money he kept in banks in London and Paris. So he was a very rich man, and - had no need to rob anyone except to gratify his vengeance. Even the - hoarded gold of Joaquin Murietta he had never touched. It remained intact - today in the treasure vault of the cave, boxes and sacks of gold and - jewels. - </p> - <p> - “Won’t I be allowed to see this wonderful treasure?” asked Dick, half - jesting. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps, some day, if the White Wolf chooses to show you. But it is not - for me to do that—I swore an oath of secrecy when the White Wolf - trusted me—me and Felix Vasquez, who was also his confidant. But - Vasquez was killed at Tulare Lake. So now only we two know the secret, and - until the White Wolf himself dies my lips are sealed by the solemn oath I - swore to the Virgin Mary.” The old man crossed himself devoutly. - </p> - <p> - “Then where does the White Wolf live now?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, that is another secret. Again I would break my oath if I spoke one - word.” - </p> - <p> - “And Guadalupe—does she know these things?” asked Dick in English. - </p> - <p> - “Guadalupe? Oh, no,” responded Pierre, politely adopting the change of - language, “she is just one servant, our cook—one very excellent - cook, as monsieur knows—and ze guardian of ze cave. For ze real - white wolf guards Guadalupe—ze big animal is just like one tame dog - to ze old squaw, but with his fierce jaws he would kill anyone who dared - to approach her or come near ze hidden entrance to zis cavern. No man can - ever find zat while ze white wolf is alive. In ze old days he killed - several men when zey dared to follow Guadalupe.” - </p> - <p> - “Then the white wolf must be very old?” - </p> - <p> - “As old as Guadalupe—as old as the Tehachapi mountains,” exclaimed - Pierre, again crossing himself and thereby revealing the superstitious - dread in which he held the savage animal. - </p> - <p> - “But you can pass the white wolf, can’t you?’ asked Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Never—except when Guadalupe give permission. Then ze wolf lies down - and I can come out of ze cave or enter. Ah! ze white wolf is one terrible - beast. But he never shows his teeth to Don Manuel. Only Don Manuel can - pass when Guadalupe is not there.” - </p> - <p> - “Then where is Guadalupe’s riffle of gold—where is the lake of oil - about which you told Tom Baker?” - </p> - <p> - “Come, I will show you zese,” replied Pierre. As he rose he picked up the - lantern he usually carried. - </p> - <p> - Dick jumped to his feet with alacrity and followed his guide. - </p> - <p> - They crossed the main cavern, then entered another side gallery. This had - many windings and from it ran several diverging rock corridors. But Pierre - led the way unfalteringly. - </p> - <p> - Fully half a mile must have been traversed when at last the Frenchman - halted and swung his lantern aloft. - </p> - <p> - “Zere!” was all he said. - </p> - <p> - Dick followed the flash of the lantern, and there before him was a dark - pool stretching away indefinitely into the blackness beyond. He bent down - and scooped up a little of the fluid in his palm. It was a brown oil, as - thin as water, and therefore capable of use without any refining process. - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott, this is wonderful!” exclaimed Dick in profound amazement. - </p> - <p> - “Very wonderful,” concurred Pierre. “In zis cavern are oil and water, also - gold—Guadalupe’s gold. Ze gold is close to here. Come.” - </p> - <p> - Pierre turned and again led the way through dark and winding corridors. At - a little distance Dick became conscious of the purling of a running - stream. Pierre stopped once more, but this time held the lantern close to - the ground. - </p> - <p> - “Here Guadalupe come to wash out ze nuggets of gold, and since I have been - in prison she buy with zem, so Mr. Baker say to me, groceries at ze store. - Don Manuel, when I tell him, he very angry—she never do zat again.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor old Buck Ashley!” laughed Dick. “He lost you, Pierre, and now he’ll - be losing his best paying customer, too.” - </p> - <p> - While speaking, he knelt and dipped his hands into the stream, bringing up - some gravel into the lantern rays. But Pierre shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “You no find ze gold. Guadalupe wash many hours to get, perhaps, just one - nugget. But there is heaps and heaps, if ze miners came with spades and - cradles.” - </p> - <p> - “Great guns, there must be the reef, too, from which the nuggets have - come!” exclaimed Dick, rising erect and dropping the handful of pebbles. - </p> - <p> - “Now, we must go back,” said Pierre, “for zis evening you are to be - allowed to come for a ride with me down ze mountains.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t say?” Dick cried, surprised and delighted. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; Don manuel he send word today that he give permission. But you must - wear ze bandage round your eyes, and you must promise to return when I - give ze word.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t for one moment think, old fellow, that I would leave my drawings. - But where are we going tonight?” - </p> - <p> - “To La Siesta,” replied Pierre. - </p> - <p> - “Hurrah!” shouted Dick. “Hurry up, Pierre! I’m mighty glad you got me - those ties and things from Los Angeles. You say you can give me a - hair-cut?” - </p> - <p> - “Ze old-time bandit learned to trim ze hair of his friends as well as ze - pocket-books of his enemies,” was the laughing answer. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII—The Unexpected Visitor - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>OST of the cattle - had been driven off the land. The vaqueros had dispersed to the four - points of the compass. Chester Munson had vacated his room in Dick - Willoughby’s old home, and had taken up his residence and library duties - at Mr. Robles’ mansion on the hill. Sing Ling had folded his tent like the - Arab and silently stolen away in the same direction. A small army of - surveyors had appeared on the scene and were quartered in the rancho - buildings. - </p> - <p> - The only one of the old-timers who still lingered on was Ben Thurston, - more gloomy and morose than ever, seldom stirring out of doors now, but - conducting all his business by telephone or through the agency of the - sleuth, Leach Sharkey, his only companion. - </p> - <p> - Jack Rover had pitched his camp temporarily at the store. Buck Ashley had - assigned him Pierre’s cot, but the cowboy had fixed it under a - wide-spreading sycamore, preferring to sleep in the open rather than share - the grocery-perfumed atmosphere of the store building. - </p> - <p> - Tom Baker was around most of the time. The three men clung together with a - vague sense that they had a common interest in the vast treasure which had - so far eluded them, but which might any day come again within reach of - their eager claws. It afforded an endless theme of conversation, varied by - talk about the passing of the rancho and all the train of changes which - were bound to follow the close settlement of the valley. - </p> - <p> - One morning Jack Rover found Buck at the door of the store, with a pair of - antiquated-looking field glasses at his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Where did you get the goggles, Buck?” asked Jack. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I rummaged ‘em out of a trunk—had almost forgot I had the - blamed things. But we used to keep a sharp lookout in the old bandit days—got - kinda ready for any suspicious lookin’ riders on the road.” He had spoken - while still peering through the binoculars, but now he turned to Jack and - proffered him the glasses. “I do wonder what ‘n hell we’re all cornin’ to - anyway. This here ranch that we’ve bragged up as bein’ the biggest in all - California! Ugh!” The grunt was one of unspeakable disgust. “Take a look - for yourself.” - </p> - <p> - Jack turned the glasses in the direction Buck had been gazing, and began - to adjust the focus. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the matter now?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Matter ‘nough,” growled the storekeeper. “San Antonio Rancho is goin’ to - the dogs. Do you see them specks away out yonder in the valley? That’s - another band of surveyors. One feller’s peekin’ through a spy-glass set on - a tripod; another feller goes ahead and puts up tall stakes with big - figgers on ‘em, and the other fellers are chainin’ off the distances. This - ‘ere ranch ‘ll surely look like a checker-board blamed soon.” - </p> - <p> - “Progress,” said Jack, laconically. - </p> - <p> - “Progress, hell!” snapped Ashley. “These new fellers that bought the ranch - have sure ‘nuff driv’ off all the cattle and now they’re dividin’ up the - land. I bet they’ll take the postoffice away from me—not that it - pays much, for the Lord knows it don’t—but it brings customers to my - store.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Buck,” said the cowboy, consolingly, “there are lots worse things - than moving a postoffice. What’s to prevent your setting up the finest - grocery store in the new model city the advertisements speak about?” - </p> - <p> - “That would suit me fine, wouldn’t it?” cried the old storekeeper, with - scathing contempt. “Goin’ around in a biled shirt, and handin’ out pencils - and chewin’ gum to the little school gals that’ll be swarmin’ all over the - place. Not on your life, Jack! I’ll be losin’ both my postoffice and my - store in these new-fangled times.” He paused a moment, then his tone - changed to one of aggressiveness. “However, they ain’t built their - doggoned new town yet, and it’s my belief all this boom talk is just so - much hot air.” - </p> - <p> - “In any case you won’t need to worry, Buck, after we get on the tracks of - Pierre Luzon again. I intend to find the old squaw’s sand-bar, or my name - isn’t Jack Rover.” - </p> - <p> - “And I betche I’m a-goin’ to find Joaquin Murietta’s cache,” concurred the - old man with equal determination. - </p> - <p> - Just then Tom Baker slouched out of the store, where he had overheard the - conversation. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, things are a-goin’ to turn out all right in the end, boys, don’t fret - over that. And there’s one thing gol-dern certain, there’ll be some great - things doin’ in this ‘ere valley once they get started on buildin’ the - town. The new place will just spring up like Oklahomy City, or Liberal, - Kansas, or some of them big towns that had twenty thousand people livin’ - in ‘em inside o’ thirty days from the time they were surveyed and laid - out.” - </p> - <p> - “That seems quite impossible,” commented Jack. - </p> - <p> - “Not impossible by a derned sight. My brother was at Liberal, Kansas, down - there on the Rock Island, near No Man’s Land, you know. The new town had - been talked of and talked of for mebbe three or four months, just as this - new town is bein’ talked about today. Then finally the mornin’ came when - the new town of Liberal was to be opened up. There was to be a regular - town openin’, so to speak, and a sale of lots. Why, great guns, when the - management of that town company rode into the station, on the early train, - they found more’n ten thousand people right there campin’ in covered - wagons, tents and all that sorta business, just awaitin’ for the - auctioneerin’ to start.” - </p> - <p> - Tom paused to take a fresh chew of tobacco and then rambled on: - </p> - <p> - “I tell you, boys, that within thirty days there was twenty thousand - people livin’ in that ‘ere town. Two banks were established, and one of - them had one hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars in deposits, too. - Oh, there’s lots of people who remember the rush to Liberal, and the - boomin’ of Oklahomy City also. And history’s fixin’ to repeat itself right - here on this ‘ere ranch. Things will be sizzlin’ when the town site is - finally located and the rush starts pourin’ in from Portland, Oregon, on - the north, to San Diego on the south, with a few thousands from Texas and - other states this side o’ the Rocky Mountains. They’ll sure be great - doin’s when the Los Angeles syndicate announce they’ve awarded to some - feller that ten-thousand-dollar prize for the best plans for their ideal - city, as they keep on callin’ it.” - </p> - <p> - “Munson and I were speaking about the contest and the prize,” remarked - Jack, “and were saying that if Dick Willoughby were only here, he’d about - win, hands down. You know he was an architect once, before he came West.” - </p> - <p> - “Dick Willoughby,” snorted Ashley, “How can he compete when he don’t know - anything about the blamed business? He’s hid away, right enough.” - </p> - <p> - “Munson knows a thing or two,” remarked Tom Baker. “If he’d only apeak, he - could tell us where Dick is. That’s my opinion.” - </p> - <p> - “And there once again you’re dead wrong,” retorted Jack, warmly. “If - Munson only knew where Dick is hiding, he would have got that very prize - competition advertisement into his hands long before now. He’s sore - because he can’t send Dick the word. Where is Dick Willoughby? By gad, - it’s a mystery.” - </p> - <p> - “I guess you’re right,” said the sheriff. “That sort o’ exonerates Munson - from keepin’ things from his partners. I think I owe it to Chester Munson - to drink his health—just for ever doubtin’ him. What shall it be, - boys?” - </p> - <p> - And the open-air meeting adjourned. - </p> - <p> - It was the very evening of the day on which this conversation had been - held in Buck Ashley’s store that Dick Willoughby rode forth from the - cavern blindfolded and under the guidance of Pierre Luzon. For the first - hour progress was slow—round many turnings, down steep declivities, - with just here and there a few miles of easier trail. But then there had - been a swift canter for another hour over grass land, and now at last the - riders were upon a well-made road. Dick divined that this must be the - highway leading to La Siesta, but from what point of the compass they had - come he had not the remotest conception. - </p> - <p> - Very soon Pierre Luzon, still riding ahead with the leading rein, came to - a halt. - </p> - <p> - “Here we are. Dismount, please,” he said. “You are free to remove ze - bandage.” - </p> - <p> - Dick looked; they were right below the knoll on which the Darlington home - stood. Lights were gleaming from the windows. Dick could even hear the - faint tinkle of the piano. - </p> - <p> - “I hide ze ponies here in zis little grove of trees,” Pierre continued, - pointing to a coppice not fifty yards from the main road. “In two hours’ - time, at eleven o’clock”—Pierre looked at his watch in the bright - moonlight—“monsieur will return. I have your word?” - </p> - <p> - “My word as a gentleman, Pierre,” exclaimed Dick, extending his hand. “So - long then, old fellow. I’ve got to make the best use of my time.” - </p> - <p> - The piano playing stopped abruptly when Willoughby, unannounced, appeared - at the door of the music room. - </p> - <p> - “Dick!” exclaimed Merle delightedly, leaving the instrument and rushing - toward him. If they had been alone Dick felt that right then she would - have jumped into his arms. But at the distance of a few paces she halted - and clasped her hands. - </p> - <p> - “How ever did you get here, Mr. Willoughby?” she asked intensely. - </p> - <p> - “I rode here,” he answered, as they shook hands. “But it is only a brief - visit. Hallo, Miss Grace! I’m delighted to see you again. And you, Ches, - old sport—why this is great luck to find you here! Mrs. Darlington, - I’m mighty glad to see you all once more.” - </p> - <p> - The whole bevy were crowding around him, shaking hands and expressing - their joyful surprise. - </p> - <p> - “We knew you were safe, that was all,” explained Munson. - </p> - <p> - “So you were having just the same jolly good times,” laughed Dick, - glancing at the piano. “I’m simply dying for some music.” - </p> - <p> - “But wait a minute,” exclaimed Munson, drawing a fat wad of newspaper - cuttings from his pocket. “I’ve got to tell you about a competition you - must get into—new plans for an ideal city here—” - </p> - <p> - “In the heart of the old rancho,” smiled Dick, as he completed the - sentence. While he spoke, he placed his arm affectionately across his - chum’s shoulders. “I know all about it, old man. I’m working hard on my - plans—they are already more than half done.” - </p> - <p> - “Bravo!” shouted Munson. “That’s great news.” - </p> - <p> - “But here, too, is Mr. Robles,” exclaimed Dick, breaking from the group - and stepping across the room. “Excuse me, senor, but I did not notice you - were here till this moment.” - </p> - <p> - “No excuse needed, my friend. You were better engaged”—this with a - humorous side-glance at the young ladies. “But I am glad to see you - looking so well.” - </p> - <p> - “Where have you been, Mr. Willoughby?” asked Grace. - </p> - <p> - “That I cannot tell you,” replied Dick gravely. “I have pledged my solemn - word. I must leave you at eleven o’clock, returning whence I came. And - meanwhile nobody must ask me a single question about my place of hiding. - There now—that’s all. What shall it be first, Miss Merle, a piano - solo or a duet with the violin?” - </p> - <p> - “Supper, I should say,” exclaimed Mrs. Darlington, as she left the room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV—In a Tight Corner - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ICK’S after-dark - visit to La Siesta was only the first of several that followed at - intervals of a few days. He came and departed mysteriously, and during his - brief stay every precaution was taken that no one except his few trusted - friends should know of his presence. But by some means or other a whisper - had reached the ear of the sleuth, Leach Sharkey, that the fugitive had - been seen at the home of Mrs. Darlington. - </p> - <p> - When the news was imparted to Ben Thurston, the old man quivered from - excitement. - </p> - <p> - “At La Siesta, do you tell me? Let us ride over there at once, and search - the place from basement to attic.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” replied Sharkey. “I’ve got my scouts out. Don’t you worry. We - must wait till the night bird comes back. Then we’ll trap him like a fat - quail.” - </p> - <p> - “All right. Have my automobile ready, and a bunch of well-armed fellows - right here, so that we can make a rush over at a moment’s notice. By God, - I’ve been disappointed in everything else—lost my son, lost my - ranch, lost my home. But I’m not going to lose that man. I’m going to get - him, even if we shoot him down on sight as an outlawed fugitive from - justice with a price on his head.” - </p> - <p> - “We’ll get him,” answered Sharkey, with a grim smile. “You may count him a - dead bird. I guessed he wouldn’t keep away from his girl very long.” - </p> - <p> - “His girl! Curse her—it was she who lured my son to his death. But - I’ll be avenged. If she has been harboring an outlaw, she, too, has broken - the law and shall go to jail.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, she no doubt thinks him innocent,” suggested the sleuth. - </p> - <p> - “Innocent! All women are alike—treacherous devils at heart. I would - give them the vote—yes, but the rope at the same time,” he went on, - growling in savage incoherence. - </p> - <p> - And Sharkey, knowing that discussion or contradiction only added fresh - fuel to his vile temper, left him alone. - </p> - <p> - At last, a few nights later, a rider dashed up to Ben Thurston’s house - with the news that Dick Willoughby had been seen entering La Siesta, and - that, following Sharkey’s instructions, every avenue of escape was now - guarded. - </p> - <p> - “Hurry, hurry! I’ve got to be in at the death,” fairly screamed the old - man. - </p> - <p> - Five minutes later the big seven-passenger automobile, carrying three or - four armed men besides its owner and his personal guard, Leach Sharkey, - was devouring the twenty miles of road that lay between the two ranch - homes. - </p> - <p> - That evening the four young people were quietly chatting in the cosy - corner on the interior verandah—the comfortable little nook fixed up - with rugs and tapestries and oriental divans. It was summer now, and after - a sultry day the night air was sweet and balmy. Willoughby was smoking a - cigar in languid contentment with his surroundings, when all at once he - sprang to his feet. - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa had rushed in, frantic with excitement. - </p> - <p> - “A great big automobile is coming along the road,” she cried, “and there - are men watching outside the portico. Come with me,” she went on, - addressing Dick. “I know where your horses are hid. I can take you by a - secret path through the oleanders.” - </p> - <p> - Dick vaguely wondered why the duenna should know anything about his mode - of coming. But there was no time to question, for just then there came the - sound of voices outside. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington, pale and agitated, emerged from the drawing room. - </p> - <p> - “What has happened?” she asked breathlessly. - </p> - <p> - “I guess I’m trapped,” replied Dick quietly. “No doubt it’s old Thurston. - There will be shooting if I resist. So there is nothing for it but to - surrender.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” exclaimed Merle. “I dread that vindictive man. He must never get - you in his power again. We must gain time to smuggle you out of the house. - I have it. Tia Teresa—give me your mantilla and your cloak. Quick, - quick!” - </p> - <p> - A first loud knocking had come on the door at the head of the portico - steps. The duenna in a moment had divested herself of her loose black robe - and heavy lace veil. - </p> - <p> - “Get something else to wear and meet us at the oleanders,” continued - Merle, taking the garments from Tia Teresa. “Put these on, Dick, and sit - right there in that corner. Mr. Munson, turn off two or three of the - lights. Mother, dear, control yourself. Take this book and be reading. - Now, that will do. They will be here in a moment.” - </p> - <p> - A second knock had been heard, and now they knew that the door was being - opened without further ceremony, for at placid La Siesta there were no - bolts or bars against unwelcome visitors. - </p> - <p> - In that brief minute a wonderful transformation scene had taken place in - the cosy corner. Tia Teresa had disappeared. Munson was stretched on a - sofa, puffing his cigar. Merle and Grace had been playing patience during - the afternoon and had left the cards in scattered confusion. Mrs. - Darlington, beneath the single incandescent aglow, was quietly reading. - From the darksome corner the pretended duenna surveyed this peaceful scene - of domesticity. - </p> - <p> - It was Ben Thurston himself who led the way for his swarm of myrmidons. - </p> - <p> - He began without formality; his tone was coarse and rude. - </p> - <p> - “We want the outlaw, Dick Willoughby. We know he is here. So make no fuss. - Deliver him over.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington had risen to her feet, and Munson, too, had sprung erect. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” asked the lady with quiet dignity. - </p> - <p> - “You know darned well what I mean.” - </p> - <p> - Munson stepped forward, but he played the game best by keeping himself - under perfect control. - </p> - <p> - “You will speak civilly, Mr. Thurston, or leave this house. What is - wanted?” he added, turning to Leach Sharkey. - </p> - <p> - “We want Dick Willoughby, of course,” the sleuth replied, politely enough. - “We have reason to believe he is here.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you can see for yourself whether he is here or not,” said Munson, - glancing around. “But if you wish to look through the house, I don’t - suppose Mrs. Darlington will refuse you permission.” - </p> - <p> - The lady bowed her acquiescence. - </p> - <p> - “With your consent, Mrs. Darlington,” Munson went on, “I’ll show these - gentlemen round and save you the annoyance. Come along then.” - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston had been fairly silenced by the army man’s suave courtesy. He - was glowering at him, dully conscious of having been suppressed. - </p> - <p> - Munson turned from the sleuth. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps Mr. Thurston would prefer to remain with the ladies?” he asked, - with a touch of smiling irony. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t leave my man Sharkey,” replied Thurston gruffly. “Sharkey, keep - close watch on me. We’ll search the place, but you stay near me all the - time.” Once again there was the old hunted look in his eyes as he glanced - apprehensively into the courtyard. - </p> - <p> - “Then follow me,” said Munson quietly. - </p> - <p> - “You have left a guard at the door of course?” asked Thurston of Sharkey. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you just allow me to know my business,” replied the detective - sharply. He bowed to Mrs. Darlington and her daughters. “I am really sorry - to disturb you, ladies.” - </p> - <p> - “Then get the business over as soon as possible,” said Munson. “Come - along.” - </p> - <p> - The moment the coast was clear, Merle jumped up. - </p> - <p> - “Quick! Mr. Willoughby. Follow me downstairs. I’ll take you through the - kitchen to the rose gardens.” - </p> - <p> - It was a strange looking duenna that stalked after Merle, with a robe - reaching only to the knees. But at the head of the kitchen stairway Dick - discarded the now useless garments, flinging them across the balustrade. - </p> - <p> - “We must trust to our good luck now, Merle,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Never fear. It won’t desert us. Hurry on.” - </p> - <p> - At the clump of oleanders they found Tia Teresa, provided with another - shawl. Not a moment was to be wasted in words. Merle just pressed Dick’s - hand by way of farewell. As he hastened away down the dark path, she, too, - sped from the spot. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps fifteen minutes later Ben Thurston, going the round of the house, - came to the head of the kitchen stairs. He saw the black cloak and - mantilla on the balustrade. - </p> - <p> - “By God!” he cried with swift inspiration of what had happened. “We’ve - been properly fooled! Where is that old hag of a duenna?” - </p> - <p> - Gathering the vestments in his hands he rushed through the house to the - verandah. Merle was quietly seated with her mother and Grace. But there - was no sign now of Tia Teresa. - </p> - <p> - Sharkey had followed close on his employer’s heels. Munson came a few - paces behind. - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston glared for a moment at the vacant place where the black-robed - figure had been seated. Then he turned round and, addressing Mrs. - Darlington, fairly shouted: - </p> - <p> - “Where is Dick Willoughby? It was he who was wearing these damned - clothes.” And he flung the garments on the rug before her. - </p> - <p> - “No swearing, please,” said Munson, tapping him on the shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “To hell! Who wouldn’t swear? Where is the man I’m after?” - </p> - <p> - “An innocent man,” exclaimed Merle, rising to her feet and proudly folding - her arms. - </p> - <p> - “Looks like it—breaking jail and hiding in the hills,” sneered - Thurston. “He is nothing but a murderer and an outlaw. And I’m going to - get him, dead or alive.” - </p> - <p> - “Then catch him if you can,” cried Merle, pointing toward the door that - opened on the portico. - </p> - <p> - Under the girl’s fearless gaze Ben Thurston wilted. Baffled, humiliated, - speechless in his impotent rage, he allowed the sleuth to take him by the - arm and hustle him from the scene. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV—Love and Revenge - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>EYOND the - oleanders a tall thick hedge of cypress favored the flight of the - fugitive. At the end of the gardens Tia Teresa took a little path that - dipped into the river bed, and when they ascended again out of the hollow, - Dick found himself quite close to the grove where Pierre was in hiding - with the ponies. - </p> - <p> - By this time the young fellow was angry with himself for having fled so - precipitately. He was full of solicitude for Merle. Why had not he - remained to defend her from the brutality of that ruffian, Ben Thurston? - This was the question that was now making him both ashamed and anxious. - </p> - <p> - “Hush!” - </p> - <p> - The caution came from Pierre, and showed that the Frenchman was alive to - what had happened. - </p> - <p> - “I saw ze automobile rush by,” he whispered. “We will ride across country, - so zat it cannot follow us.” He pointed in the direction he would go. - </p> - <p> - “Not yet,” replied Dick, determinedly. “I’m off back to the house to see - that they are all safe there.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, Mr. Willoughby,” protested the duenna earnestly. “You heard what - Miss Merle said—she is afraid of that raging old man. Besides I - know. He has vowed that he and his hired gunmen will shoot you on sight. - For my little girl’s sake you must not go back,” she implored. - </p> - <p> - “Besides your word of honor is pledged to me,” added Luzon. “You must - return wiz me. I have your parole.” - </p> - <p> - “Parole be hanged,” muttered Dick between his teeth. - </p> - <p> - The old Frenchman laid a kindly hand on the young man’s shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “No, no. Monsieur is a man of honor. And honor comes before love—always.” - </p> - <p> - “If you love her,” insisted Tia Teresa, “you will save yourself tonight. - We will look after her. You need not worry on her account.” - </p> - <p> - Dick for the moment was silenced, but unconvinced. - </p> - <p> - “Well, at all events we’ll wait a bit. I don’t leave this spot till I’m - sure that Ben Thurston himself has cleared.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” assented Pierre. “Stay where you are, Tia Teresa. You must - not be seen. Zey may be searching in ze gardens.” - </p> - <p> - Even as he spoke there was the flash of a lantern among the rose bushes. - </p> - <p> - In tense silence they waited and watched. The leaden-winged minutes stole - on. For a time lights flitted about, then vanished. At last came the - “honk-honk” of the automobile, and a minute later the great machine with - its flaring headlights swept down the roadway. They could just see that it - was crowded with men. Then in a few seconds it had disappeared around the - bend. - </p> - <p> - “Now we go,” said Pierre. - </p> - <p> - “Just a minute longer, please,” replied Dick in a firm tone. “Tia Teresa, - you slip back to the house. I will stay here till you bring me word from - Merle that she is safe and that all is well.” - </p> - <p> - “I will soon return,” said the duenna as she hurried away on her mission. - </p> - <p> - Again an interval of high-tensioned waiting. Neither Dick nor Pierre spoke - a word. At last there came a rustle of the bushes from the direction of - the river bed, and a moment later Tia Teresa was again by their side. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Willoughby,” she said, breathless from the speed she had made, “Miss - Merle begs you to make good your escape. She is well, and happy because - you are safe. She sends this rose and”—the old lady hesitated a - moment—“her love.” - </p> - <p> - “She said that?” murmured Dick, tremblingly, as he took the white blossom - and breathed its fragrance. - </p> - <p> - “Well, does not the flower speak her love?” replied the duenna. “Now go, - go.” - </p> - <p> - “Come,” said Pierre, as he raised himself into the saddle. “We shall fix - the blindfold later on.” Dick furtively kissed the rose before he placed - it in the breast pocket of his coat. Then he mounted, and, bringing his - pony alongside of Pierre’s, started off at a canter across the starlit - plain. - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston did not feel inclined to sleep that night. He paced his - sitting room like an angry bear, and kept Leach Sharkey out of bed to - listen to his growls and threatenings. - </p> - <p> - “By God, I’ll have that girl shoved into jail. Harboring an outlaw! It’s a - criminal offence.” - </p> - <p> - “You can’t do it,” objected the sleuth. - </p> - <p> - “Can’t do it?” shouted Thurston, halting and glowering down upon the man - who had dared to contradict him. “You’ll see damned quick if I can’t.” - </p> - <p> - “Not one of us could swear that Willoughby was there. Neither you nor I - could. We never saw him.” - </p> - <p> - “He wore that disguise,” thundered Thurston. “So you think. But thinking - ain’t proof—not by a long chalk.” - </p> - <p> - Thurston was now almost speechless from rage. Half articulate words of - blasphemy were upon his stuttering lips. But Sharkey went coolly on. - </p> - <p> - “Besides the sympathy of everyone would be with the girl. You can’t - succeed that way. You yourself would be covered with ridicule.” - </p> - <p> - At last the torrent of curses broke forth. “Damn you, Leach Sharkey! - That’s what I pay you for, is it? To let that scoundrel slip through our - very fingers? And you had the nerve to ask me for another big check this - evening. It’s all a confounded plot. You’re bleeding me. Leach is your - name, and leech is your nature.” Leach Sharkey rose to his feet. His white - teeth gleamed as his short upper lip curled in a contemptuous smile. He - raised a threatening finger. It was his turn now to give free vent to - profanity. - </p> - <p> - “Stop right there, you doggoned old fool. I bleed you, do I? Well, take my - resignation. All your pay ain’t worth another five minutes of your - infernal temper. No man ever dared to browbeat me and insult me as you - have done. And now you may go to hell—where you belong.” - </p> - <p> - The sleuth turned on his heel, and strode to the doorway. But Thurston was - after him in an instant, penitent, trembling, ashen pale. He grabbed - Sharkey by the coat sleeve. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, don’t go, I beg of you,” he whined, “I was wrong. I spoke in - anger. I apologize. Good God, some one or other will get me within an hour - if you leave me unprotected. I haven’t a single friend—no one to - stand by me.” There was craven fear in his eyes as he looked timidly - around. “I hear the prowling footsteps of my enemies in the night. You - alone can save me, Mr. Sharkey.” - </p> - <p> - “Your damned civility comes too late,” replied the sleuth, as he shook the - clutching hands from his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “No, no. Don’t say that. Sit down again. See, here is my check book. I’ll - pay you that money now—I’ll double the amount—I’ll never - haggle with you again. Stay with me till we go East together.” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey showed himself somewhat mollified. He had played his game well, - for after all, cash with him was the main consideration. So smiling over - the success of his bluff, he watched the unnerved coward as he tottered to - his desk, dropped into a chair and drew the check with slow and painful - effort, and then returned with it between his still trembling fingers. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll stand by me, Mr. Sharkey, won’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, no more of that nonsense,” was the curt reply, as the sleuth - glanced at the slip of paper, then thrust it in his waistcoat pocket. - </p> - <p> - To Thurston the reconciliation brought instant relief. He drew himself up; - he rubbed his hands; he even attempted a smile. - </p> - <p> - “That’s a good fellow, Sharkey. You know I’ve always held you in high - esteem. And we’ll get that man yet”—the glare of vindictiveness was - again in his eyes, the rasp of accustomed irritability was returning to - his voice. “We’ll get him, I say, even if it costs double the money I’ve - already spent. And that devil of a girl, too—I hate her more than - ever now. She’ll pay for her insults tonight with her lover’s life. - Remember, Sharkey, no more chances. When you get the scoundrel within - gunshot, it’s up to you to shoot. That will be best in any case. It will - save the cost of a judge and jury. You understand me?” - </p> - <p> - “I understand,” nodded Sharkey. “Then, as you’re speaking about doubling. - Mr. Thurston, I suppose that ten-thousand-dollar reward coming to me goes - up to twenty thousand.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; twenty thousand if you shoot him like a dog, and let me get away - from this damned place. I have come to loathe the very name of it. Well, - spread your cot now across my door. I’ll try to get an hour’s sleep. Good - night.” - </p> - <p> - And Ben Thurston disappeared into the inner room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVI—A Date is Fixed - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>N the morning - after the exciting episode at La Siesta, Chester Munson was in the library - of Mr. Robles’ home ready for his day’s duties. But he was in no mood for - the routine work of cataloging and classifying the volumes on the - bookshelves. Up to now the task had been one of absorbing interest, for - Munson, although not a scholar, had always been fond of reading, and it - was a treat to dip at times into the contents of the rare and curious - works which wealth and the educated taste of a true bibliophile had - accumulated. - </p> - <p> - But today the amateur librarian was thinking of other things. He was - feverishly awaiting the usual morning visit of his employer, so that he - might tell him the story of the previous night’s happenings. At last Mr. - Robles made his appearance, and gave his usual quiet greetings. - </p> - <p> - “I see you are making great progress with your work,” he remarked, - glancing at the pile of classified volumes resting temporarily on the - library table. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m getting along,” replied Munson. “But I have most surprising news - for you, Mr. Robles.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed?” The recluse arched his eyebrows in expectant curiosity as he - took a chair beside the desk at which Munson had been seated. “Sit down, - please. Let me hear the story.” - </p> - <p> - “You know that I was at La Siesta yesterday evening?” - </p> - <p> - “I know that you are very often there,” replied Mr. Robles, smiling. “I - understand the attraction and congratulate you on your good fortune. Grace - Darlington is certainly a charming young lady.” - </p> - <p> - Munson flushed and bowed his acquiescence in the compliment as he said: - </p> - <p> - “It was not of her, however, that I was going to speak. I want to say to - you, Mr. Robles, that Miss Farnsworth did one of the bravest and cleverest - things imaginable last evening.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me about it. I am all attention.” Munson then proceeded to relate in - full detail the events of the preceding evening—the surprise visit - of Ben Thurston, the brutality of the man, the quick wit of Merle, the - escape of Dick Willoughby, and his final message by Tia Teresa that he was - safe and, in obedience to Merle’s injunction, was returning to his place - of hiding. During the narrative only once did the listener betray emotion; - when Thurston’s rude insults were repeated there came a flash into Robles’ - eyes, and he clenched his hands to restrain his indignation. But he - interrupted with no word, and at the end spoke no comment. - </p> - <p> - Munson was a little taken aback at this silence and impassivity. - </p> - <p> - “My story does not seem to surprise you?” he remarked, with a note of - interrogation. - </p> - <p> - “No,” was the quiet reply, “I already knew it.” - </p> - <p> - “How?” exclaimed Munson, wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “You have forgotten, young man, that there is a private telephone between - my home here and La Siesta. Mrs. Darlington has already told me about the - matter. But I am pleased to have your version, and delighted more than I - can tell to know that Merle proved equal to the emergency—that it - was she who may be truly said to have saved Dick Willoughby.” There was a - ring of pride and admiration in his voice as he spoke the words. - </p> - <p> - “She’s the real stuff,” cried Munson, enthusiastically. - </p> - <p> - “It was well done,” continued Mr. Robles, his tone taking a graver note. - “For I want to warn you, Munson, as Willoughby’s closest friend, that Ben - Thurston or one of his hired assassins will certainly shoot on sight the - instant they get the chance to do so. But by the Lord, if anything like - that happens, I will hang that villain Thurston to the highest tree in - Tejon for the buzzards to pick his bones.” And the upraised hand, the - voice vibrating with passionate determination, showed that Ricardo Robles - meant just what he said. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Robles had risen to his feet. For a moment he turned his face away. - Then he again spoke, but now in his customary, sedate manner. - </p> - <p> - “This morning, Mr. Munson, I leave home for a few days. Go on with your - work, of course, but remember that it is quite a minor consideration. - During my absence I shall rely on you to see that Ben Thurston, on any - pretence of searching for Willoughby, does not cross my door.” - </p> - <p> - “He shall never do that, so long as I’m here,” declared the young army - man, with quiet confidence. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think he will, either,” replied Robles. “I have given orders for - him to be shot down,” he added grimly, “if he should dare to approach my - gates. But I’ll count on you all the same as a second guard to the - sanctity of my home.” - </p> - <p> - “You may count on me to the death,” responded Munson, extending his hand. - </p> - <p> - “I know it, and therefore I go away on a necessary duty with an easy mind. - But I have good news for you, Munson. I have instructed Sing Ling to - prepare luncheon for the ladies of La Siesta every day they choose to - come. So, while I prefer you to remain here on guard while I am gone, you - need not be lonely. Perhaps you’ll hardly wish me to come back again,” he - added with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don’t say that. But you’re mighty kind thinking of such things at - all.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you may expect our friends today about one o’clock. Now, goodbye—but - not for long.” - </p> - <p> - The library work proceeded but slowly during the hours that followed. - Munson was all impatience now for Grace and Merle to arrive. Books were of - little account, for there was none ever printed that could rival for him - the charm of a certain pair of laughing blue eyes. And it was a - self-confessed pseudo man-of-letters who at last rushed to the gateway to - greet the fair visitors. - </p> - <p> - “Mother couldn’t come,” cried Grace, as she jumped from her horse and - flung the bridle to a Mexican groom. “She’s putting up fruit with Tia - Teresa, and I think she really believes everything would go wrong if she - didn’t superintend.” - </p> - <p> - Munson, as he led the girls through the arched gateway, was inclined to - bless both the fruit and the fallacy. - </p> - <p> - Sing Ling came across the patio with a welcoming smile. - </p> - <p> - “Dinnel all leady,” he announced in tinkling syllables. - </p> - <p> - “And we’re all ready, too, Sing Ling,” laughed Merle, as she went up and - shook the Chinaman’s hand. - </p> - <p> - “Me vely glad to see you again, missie.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t know you were old friends,” exclaimed Munson, in some surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, didn’t you? Sing Ling has been Mr. Robles’ cook off and on for nearly - twenty years. When Mr. Robles is abroad of course he works elsewhere. - That’s why you found him at San Antonio Rancho.” - </p> - <p> - “But Dick told me he was his cook—had been for several years.” - </p> - <p> - “With Mr. Robles’ tacit consent, then,” replied Merle. - </p> - <p> - The Chinaman was grinning in a vacuous sort of way, as if all the - conversation was so much Greek to him. - </p> - <p> - “Sing Ling, you scamp,” cried Munson, “I begin to understand now how Mr. - Robles comes to know so much about Dick and myself. You’ve been telling - tales out of school.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no; me cookee allee time; me no go school,” replied the Celestial, in - guileless incomprehension. - </p> - <p> - After the dainty luncheon, Merle proposed that they should visit the watch - tower. There they found the Mexican lad on duty. He had been strumming a - guitar to pass the time, but at the sound of voices had sprung erect and - alert. Munson noticed at a glance that the big telescope was ready trained - on San Antonio Rancho. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Como estas, Francisco?</i>” asked Merle, addressing the boy in - Spanish. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Bien, gracias, senorita</i>,” he replied, with a deferential bow. But - he averted his glance instantly, and gazed out on the landscape. - </p> - <p> - Merle turned to Munson: “We are not allowed to converse with the servants - here,” she explained. “Just a word of greeting—that is all.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m under similar orders,” replied Munson. “Not that it much matters in - my case, for I haven’t your accomplishment of knowing the Spanish - language.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Grace and I speak Spanish almost as well as English. You see, Mr. - Robles, who has always been interested in us two girls, insisted that we - should be taught his native tongue.” - </p> - <p> - “And we’ve been all over Spain, too,” interposed Grace. “Lived there a - whole year. That’s where I fell in love with the violin and took my first - lessons.” - </p> - <p> - “An inspiring country obviously,” remarked Munson with a flattering - gesture. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you for the subtle compliment,” laughed Grace, tossing the vagrant, - wind-blown curls from her face. - </p> - <p> - “I never come here but I love to gaze at the view,” observed Merle. “Is it - not glorious—this valley of Tehachapi?” - </p> - <p> - It was indeed a glorious scene—that noble sweep of verdured plain, - stretching north far as the eye could reach, on the south guarded by the - rugged pass, east and west embosoming hills twenty miles apart etching the - sky with peaks and domes and lines of beauty. For a few moments all three - visitors to the tower remained silent and enraptured. - </p> - <p> - Grace was the one to break the spell. - </p> - <p> - “I’m going down now to the library to inspect your work, lieutenant,” she - announced with a roguish smile. - </p> - <p> - “Spare me,” protested Munson. “But perhaps you would help me with some of - those Spanish books,” he added as an afterthought. - </p> - <p> - “Delighted! Come along.” And she led the way down the winding iron - staircase. - </p> - <p> - In the library the three were for the first time during the visit quite - alone. Munson carefully closed the door. - </p> - <p> - “Now I’ve got the chance, Miss Merle,” he began, “I want to compliment you - on your splendid bravery last night.” - </p> - <p> - “Bravery!” she laughed. “Why I was so scared I could hardly stand.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you deceived us all finely, then.” - </p> - <p> - “And that Ben Thurston—what an old ruffian!” cried Grace. “But I - agree with you, Mr. Munson; Merle was a hero.” - </p> - <p> - “A heroine,” suggested the lieutenant. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, in these days we don’t make such fine sex distinctions,” laughed - Grace. “A real hero, that’s what I call her.” - </p> - <p> - “Rubbish,” protested Merle. “I just did what anyone else would have done - in the circumstances.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m afraid men are not so ready of wit in an emergency as are women,” - remarked Munson. - </p> - <p> - “Just listen to that, Merle,” exclaimed Grace. “I verily believe the - lieutenant is a suffragette.” - </p> - <p> - “A suffragist,” corrected Munson, emphatically this time. “I’m hanged if - I’m going to wear a petticoat even if the women are determined to don—the - other things.” - </p> - <p> - They all laughed merrily. - </p> - <p> - Grace turned and began examining the carefully written library cards. - </p> - <p> - “Any more news from Mr. Willoughby?” asked Merle, with a look of - solicitude in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” replied Munson. “But I’m beginning to put two and two - together,” he continued. “Early every morning a horseman comes down here - from the mountains and evidently brings a report of some kind to Mr. - Robles. And when he rides off again Sing Ling has always ready a basket of - grub, all sorts of nice things, fried chicken, spiced beef—” - </p> - <p> - “Sounds quite epicurean,” interrupted Grace, tossing away the card she had - been pretending to examine. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, hang it all—just the little delicacies Dick used to like.” - </p> - <p> - “I never knew you fared so bountifully at San Antonio Rancho,” remarked - Merle with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Dick’s no candy kid, as you know well,” replied Munson. “It was - mostly rough and ready fare all right, but Sing Ling had a knack of adding - a few dainty trifles to our meals, and it strikes me that for the purposes - of this mysterious and capacious lunch basket he is trying to excel - himself.” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt it goes to Mr. Willoughby,” said Merle. “Well, I’m real glad to - know that they are making him comfortable.” - </p> - <p> - “I guess, though, he’ll miss his occasional visits to La Siesta. Mr. - Robles says you were quite right, Miss Merle. Dick is in real danger. - Those gunmen of old Thurston have orders to shoot him on sight.” - </p> - <p> - “I knew it,” exclaimed Merle. “Oh, I’m so thankful he got away. Even - though we miss seeing him, he must never run such a risk again.” - </p> - <p> - “It is all very mysterious,” said Munson, in a musing tone. “And I had no - idea, too, that this was such a lovely place. Mr. Robles has taken me - around several times. He has the choicest dairy cattle, the finest blooded - horses, rare trees and plants from every corner of the world.” - </p> - <p> - “These are his hobbies,” commented Merle. - </p> - <p> - “He says he wants to give me some practical lessons in estate management.” - </p> - <p> - “Why?” asked Grace. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” laughed Munson, “he thinks I may some day own a rancho of my own. - But that will be a mighty long time.” - </p> - <p> - “Who can tell?” said Merle, glancing mischievously from the lieutenant to - Grace. “Even in these humdrum days soldiers have been known to come in and - conquer.” - </p> - <p> - Grace blushed crimson. - </p> - <p> - “Merle, how dare you?” she exclaimed, half angry, half laughing. “Next - time we visit you, Mr. Munson, I’ll have to bring along Tia Teresa.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, dear Aunt Teresa has a soft side for the lieutenant,” retorted Merle, - with merry audacity. - </p> - <p> - But Grace had recovered from her momentary confusion. - </p> - <p> - “Then I’ll help you all I can, Mr. Munson, with dear Aunt Teresa,” she - laughingly said. “We’ll send her along tomorrow instead of coming - ourselves.” - </p> - <p> - “Heaven forbid!” murmured the lieutenant, with pious fervor. He, too, had - been looking and feeling awkward. - </p> - <p> - “So we’ll say goodbye for the present,” continued Grace, frankly extending - her hand. - </p> - <p> - “I hope I haven’t said anything to offend you,” stammered Munson. - </p> - <p> - “It is perhaps what you haven’t said that is the cause of trouble,” - laughed the irrepressible Merle. - </p> - <p> - But Grace had fled from the room, and as the others followed, Merle went - on: - </p> - <p> - “I said when we left home that two would be company but three—a - complication. Wasn’t I right, lieutenant?” - </p> - <p> - “You are always right,” murmured Munson, too bewildered to think of - anything else but the obvious gallant reply. - </p> - <p> - He stood at the gateway watching the two young ladies as they cantered - away. At the bend of the road Merle turned round in the saddle and waved - her hand. But Grace rode steadily on. - </p> - <p> - “By jove, that’s as good as telling me that I can sail in and win,” he - said to himself. “Thank you, Merle, little girl. Next time Grace and I are - alone, my fate will be sealed.” - </p> - <p> - But no one called again during Mr. Robles’ absence—not even Tia - Teresa. - </p> - <p> - It was toward evening a few days later when the recluse strolled into the - library. Munson did not know that he had returned, and rose from his seat - in some surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Still hard at work?” said Mr. Robles, as he nodded and shook hands. - </p> - <p> - “When did you get back, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Last night. And today I have been busy with some important letters.” - </p> - <p> - “Any word of Dick?” - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing new so far as I am aware.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Robles, excuse me,” said Munson earnestly. “But I’m anxious on Dick’s - account. You know of his whereabouts, of course?” - </p> - <p> - “I have indicated as much, although for the present I prefer to say - nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, when is he to be restored to liberty?” - </p> - <p> - “In due time. At latest he will be free on the eleventh of October.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that’s months ahead yet. But why the eleventh of October? You excite - my curiosity.” - </p> - <p> - “The date is not of my choosing—it was fixed many years ago, by - another than myself.” - </p> - <p> - The enigmatic reply puzzled Chester Munson—not only the words - themselves, but the tremor of deep emotion in the voice of Ricardo Robles - as he gave them utterance. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVII—Among the Old Oaks - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>IERRE, now my - sketches and plans are finished, how am I going to pass the time?” It was - some ten days after the affair at La Siesta, and Dick had spent the - interval in close and absorbed work over his drawing board. Happy in his - occupation, he had not felt the restraints of confinement. - </p> - <p> - But now that the task was completed, and the big cardboard cylinder - containing the set of drawings rested on the ledge of the easel all ready - to be sent away on its mission, a feeling of chafing restlessness had - ensued. - </p> - <p> - “Good Lord, a fellow can’t read all day,” Dick went on, half in soliloquy, - half addressing his companion. - </p> - <p> - “Monsieur is comfortable here?” asked the latter solicitously. - </p> - <p> - “I should say, old fellow. I was never in better quarters in all my life.” - </p> - <p> - “And zere is nothing more I could get for ze table?” - </p> - <p> - “For goodness sake, don’t talk like that, Pierre! In any ease I don’t - worry about what I eat. But this is a regular Delmonico’s. Guadalupe is - certainly a crackerjack cook. She is even better than Sing Ling. Wherever - did she learn to turn out all these little delicacies? And just my - favorite dishes, too.” - </p> - <p> - Pierre smiled enigmatically. - </p> - <p> - “Guadalupe very clever old squaw,” he remarked. - </p> - <p> - “I would like to know her better. But she keeps out of my sight all the - time.” - </p> - <p> - “Guadalupe is very old. She has her fixed ideas.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose that means she does not love the Americans.” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt. She prefer to be alone—alone with ze white wolf all ze - time. And where the white wolf is, monsieur dare not go.” - </p> - <p> - “I understand that all right,” laughed Willoughby. “I strolled only once - toward the log fire, and the brute showed me a set of teeth which I never - wish to see again.” - </p> - <p> - “Ze white wolf guard ze cave well,” remarked Pierre, sententiously. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m not thinking of trying to run away. You know I would never break - my word. But what the dickens am I to do all day long?” - </p> - <p> - “What do you say? Suppose we go to ze riffle and wash out some gold.” - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott!” exclaimed Dick eagerly. “That’s not a bad suggestion. But - Don Manuel won’t mind?” - </p> - <p> - “He will be very pleased—he has no use for ze gold.” - </p> - <p> - “And Guadalupe?” - </p> - <p> - “Long ago she would have killed you if you had gone zere. But not now. She - very old, and all her people are dead.” - </p> - <p> - “And the white wolf? That confounded beast won’t interfere?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no. Ze white wolf stay near Guadalupe all ze time.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, by jove, it’s a bully idea,” cried Dick. “It gets me all right. - We’ll turn miners, Pierre, and we’ll have a rare old sack of nuggets to - divide when the time comes for me to go free. I’ll be better off in the - end than if I were holding down my old job at the rancho,” he laughed - gaily. - </p> - <p> - “I will find ze spades and ze pans to wash ze gravel. When shall we - begin?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, wait now,” replied Dick, glancing reflectively at the roll of - drawings. “I’ve got to send these plans away. I want you to get them at - once into the hands of my friend, Lieutenant Chester Munson. He will know - how to forward them to their proper destination.” - </p> - <p> - “May I suggest one zing?” - </p> - <p> - “Go ahead, Pierre. What’s in your mind?” - </p> - <p> - “I venture to make one little suggestion. Why not ask ze young lady to - take ze plans to your friend?” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Merle Farnsworth?” asked Dick in surprise. “But how am I to do - that?” - </p> - <p> - “I will promise to arrange a meeting—zat is, if you are not afraid - of Mr. Thurston and his men.” - </p> - <p> - “Afraid!” shouted Dick. “You give me the chance to see Merle again, and - old Ben Thurston and all his sleuths may go to blazes.” - </p> - <p> - “Zen I will arrange, and I zink it will please ze young lady very much to - have ze honor of taking care of ze plans.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean it will be a mighty honor for the plans to be in her care, - Pierre. But I know she will gladly do me this service. How and when can I - see her?” - </p> - <p> - “Be ready tomorrow morning by ten o’clock. I will take you to a quiet - place among ze old oak trees.” - </p> - <p> - “Pierre, you’re a regular brick,” cried Dick, as he slapped the old - Frenchman on the shoulder in the exuberance of his delight. - </p> - <p> - The following morning they started out for the trysting place. Dick - without demur submitted to the usual precautions. He was blindfolded - before mounting his pony in the great central domed cavern and it was not - until a couple of hours later, after a veritable switchback ride up and - down and round about in a bewildering maze, that he was permitted to - remove the bandage. Dismounting, he found himself in the heart of a great - oak forest, in what precise locality he could not tell, for there was - nothing in sight but endless vistas of tree trunks under their thick - canopy of green leaves. - </p> - <p> - Pierre touched him on the shoulder, and he followed the direction of the - Frenchman’s eyes. There, advancing through the sylvan twilight, was Merle - Farnsworth, her hands eagerly extended, her face lighted with joy. - Following at a little distance came Tia Teresa. - </p> - <p> - Dick, hastening to meet Merle, took both her hands into his, and gazed - deep into her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it’s great to meet you again,” he exclaimed. “And this is my first - chance to thank you for having saved me the other night. My word, but you - were quick to think and to act. You cannot know how I admired your courage - and coolness.” - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense, nonsense,” protested Merle, in sweet blushing confusion. “You - make far too much of the little I did.” - </p> - <p> - “You saved my life,” said Dick, determinedly. “You can call that a little - thing if you choose.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” she replied, earnestly. “If I really did that, then it was truly - a big thing.” - </p> - <p> - “For me.” - </p> - <p> - “And for all of us,” she added, with face half-averted. - </p> - <p> - “And you, too?” pressed Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, for me, too,” answered Merle, turning round and frankly meeting his - gaze. “I should never have been happy again had any harm come to you there—that - night—in my very home—without a proper effort to get you away - to a place of safety.” - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, Merle, dear,” exclaimed Dick, as again he pressed her - hands. He had been carried away by his fervent emotions, but she did not - resent the familiar and endearing manner of his address. - </p> - <p> - He would have taken her in his arms there and then, but Merle drew back - and gave a little glance aside. Then Dick remembered Tia Teresa. To his - astonishment he found her chatting with Pierre Luzon as if they were old - friends. - </p> - <p> - Dick left Merle for the moment to greet the duenna. - </p> - <p> - “And I have to thank you, too, for helping me,” he said. Then he added - with a laugh: “When am I to be privileged to wear that mantilla again?” - </p> - <p> - “You are not to be allowed to endanger yourself again,” replied Tia - Teresa. “And I warn you now. We remain here only half an hour—these - are our orders.” - </p> - <p> - “Whose orders?” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind. Just one half hour, that is all.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I’ll make the best of my time,” exclaimed Dick, turning toward - Merle. “I see you won’t be lonely with my gallant friend, Pierre Luzon,” - he added with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I knew Pierre when he was just as handsome a young fellow as - yourself,” retorted Tia Teresa. “But we’ll excuse you, and Pierre will - keep the time.” - </p> - <p> - Dick led Merle down a glade of the forest, but before doing so he had - unstrapped the roll of drawings from the horn of his saddle. - </p> - <p> - “What are you carrying so very carefully?” asked Merle. - </p> - <p> - “My plans for the ideal city. I told you I was going to have a try in that - competition.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope you’ll have good luck.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I want you to help me. Will you take this package, please, to - Chester Munson and ask him to send it to the proper address?” - </p> - <p> - “With the greatest of pleasure, Mr. Willoughby,”—and she put forth - her hands for the roll. - </p> - <p> - “No—we’ll lay it down here for the present. This log will serve as a - seat. See, this twisted, limb makes quite a comfortable nook for you.” He - had halted at a fallen tree, had dropped the drawing on the turf, and was - now dusting away the twigs and leaves from the seat he had chosen. - </p> - <p> - “Cannot I look at the drawings?” she asked, after settling herself cosily. - </p> - <p> - “Before handing them to Munson, if you like. But there are other things to - talk about now.” As he spoke he tossed his hat on the ground at her feet. - </p> - <p> - “Are you growing impatient over your confinement?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Impatient—it is hardly the word. I long to be out in the world - again. I could never have endured the long seclusion but for my work over - these drawings and my thoughts of you.” - </p> - <p> - “Why me?” - </p> - <p> - “I have felt that I am doing the best for your sake as well as my own. I - would not have had you subjected to the vulgar gaze of a crowded court - room—not for worlds. The very thought that I have saved you from - that has made me contented with my enforced idleness.” - </p> - <p> - “Not idleness,” she said, tapping the roll of drawings with the toe of her - shoe. - </p> - <p> - “Well, no, not idleness exactly.” - </p> - <p> - “And I do hope you’ll win the prize,” she added, looking up into his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “So do I. But perhaps you don’t know what I count to be the real prize.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0255.jpg" alt="0255 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0255.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “Pray, what is that?” - </p> - <p> - Dick thrust a hand into the breast of his coat and brought forth a pocket - book. From this he produced a little package, and opening the folds of - paper disclosed the white rose which she had sent him on the night of his - escape from La Siesta. - </p> - <p> - “Where did you get that?” she asked demurely. - </p> - <p> - “It is your rose—the rose you sent me.” - </p> - <p> - “I did not know you were so partial to roses as to keep them after they - are withered.” Her voice trembled; she bravely tried to keep up the - pretence of not understanding. - </p> - <p> - “It is not the gift I treasure—it is the thought of who was the - giver.” - </p> - <p> - A blush stole over her beautiful face, while the long drooping eyelashes - half concealed her brown eyes. Dick’s arms slipped around the girl’s - slender waist. - </p> - <p> - “Merle, my dear, I love you. For months past I have known that there is no - woman on earth for me but you. I would have spoken before, but I have - always been afraid that you could not love me, and that talk of such a - thing might terminate a friendship that had become my greatest pleasure in - life.” - </p> - <p> - For reply, placing one hand on his shoulder, she just buried her face in - his breast and gave way to tears—tears of joy, he knew, as he kissed - her hair again and again, and then at last her lips when she allowed him - to raise her face toward his. - </p> - <p> - “My darling,” he murmured, and the kiss she gave him back accepted and - returned the words of fond endearment. - </p> - <p> - A moment of restful bliss followed; then Merle gently disengaged herself - and rose to her feet. - </p> - <p> - “What will Tia Teresa say?” she asked, laughingly, as she glanced over her - shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “I think Tia Teresa knew all about my love long ago,” replied Dick. “Yes, - both she and Pierre Luzon, too.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you have been wearing your heart on your sleeve.” - </p> - <p> - “Or we have been surrounded by very observant people. But, I say, Merle, - this reminds me of a thing I had quite forgotten for the moment.” His face - fell. “There is one great barrier that stands between us.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean? You are surely too strong and purposeful a man to care - for barriers.” - </p> - <p> - “I never knew until the other day that you are so very rich.” - </p> - <p> - “Rich!” laughed Merle. “Who ever told you such a foolish thing? While of - course I have never felt poverty, don’t you know that I am absolutely - dependent upon Mrs. Darlington’s kindness and generosity to me, her - adopted daughter?” - </p> - <p> - A smile of understanding broke over Dick’s face. - </p> - <p> - “You tell me that? I am so delighted,” he exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “You surely know my story well enough,” continued Merle, “not to have - mistaken me for an heiress. I lost both father and mother when I was a - baby. Mrs. Darlington took me to her heart, and no mother could have been - dearer and sweeter than she, no sister kinder and more loving than Grace. - But I am proud to think they have loved me for my own sake, not for any - wealth I might have owned.” - </p> - <p> - “Then there is no barrier,” cried Dick, as once again he drew her to him. - “Unless my poverty is a barrier,” he added. “But won’t I work hard all my - life to give you every comfort you can desire!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we’ll have a good start at all events,” said Merle, with a merry - little upglance. - </p> - <p> - “How’s that?” - </p> - <p> - “The ten-thousand-dollar prize for the best plans. Have you forgotten - about that already?” - </p> - <p> - “But it is not won yet.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I have the firm presentiment that you are going to win, Dick, dear. I - am sure of it—sure!” she repeated in a tone of conviction. - </p> - <p> - Her face was aglow and Dick caught the spirit of her enthusiasm. - </p> - <p> - “Then I’m sure, too. And, by jove, won’t we have one grand honeymoon trip, - dearest?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVIII—The Prize Winner - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ICK WILLOUGHBY’S - sensational escape from La Siesta had added another thrill to the mystery - surrounding the murder of Marshall Thurston. But as week succeeded week - without further incident, the affair gradually faded away as a topic of - conversation. All the talk now was about the coming of the new town. The - fever of speculation was in the air. - </p> - <p> - “Say, boys,” remarked Jack Rover one evening to his two cronies at the - store, “I’m sure getting crazy about the new town. I’ve got a thousand - bones of my own savings besides the money from old Pierre Luzon, and I’m - going to invest every dangnation cent of it in town lots on opening day. - You bet I’ll be there mighty early in the morning when the sale starts.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m sorta locoed myself,” said Baker, “about them lots in the new town. - Guess I’ll grab off a few good corners. I look for an early rise—prices’ll - go up like blazes,’ I’m ‘lowin’.” - </p> - <p> - Buck Ashley snorted contemptuously. “Say, you fellers are two dippy ones. - That new town talk is a lot o’ hot air, d’you hear? Jest the agitatin’ - work of them pesky town boomers. Won’t ‘mount to nothin’.” - </p> - <p> - Jack Rover started a defence, but was quickly motioned to silence by old - Tom Baker, who, after clearing his throat, pushed his hat back and glared - at Buck Ashley. - </p> - <p> - “Buck,” said he, “you’re a thick-headed fool. The openin’ of that town - will amount to one hell of a sight, don’t you fergit it. Why, that Los - Angeles syndicate cuss who’s a-runnin’ the machine is sharper than a razor - blade. Just think for one little puny moment,” Tom Baker went on, - enthusiastically, “of that printed notice being in every blamed newspaper - in the whole country—yes, and on the other side of the Atlantic pond—offerin’ - ten thousand dollars for the best plans for an ideal city. Gosh all - hemlock, they do say as how the mails were just chuck full of answers—architect - fellers as well as them as ain’t architects, a-tryin’ to get their hooks - on that ten-thousand-dollar prize. It was a mighty smart business notion, - I’m a-tellin’ you, and has boomed the town to beat the band.” - </p> - <p> - “But,” inquired Buck Ashley, in a sarcastic way, “who is confounded fool - enough to buy lots in such a wild-cat scheme, no matter how much they - advertise it? That’s what I’m askin’.” - </p> - <p> - “I will, for one,” said Jack Rover. “As I said before, I’m going to put in - my last dollar.” - </p> - <p> - “As for me,” chimed in Tom Baker, “I will lay my money on this ‘ere - proposed new town bein’ the biggest town in the whole dangnation State of - California outside of sea-board towns.” - </p> - <p> - Just then through the gathering darkness a lone horseman rode up to the - store, dismounted and came hurriedly in. It was none other than Chester - Munson, flushed and excited, as he sang out a good-natured salute: “Hallo, - boys. I have news for you.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke he pulled a Bakersfield daily paper from his pocket. “The new - town!” he fairly shouted. “All about it, right on the front page, pictures - and all. And it is Dick Willoughby who wins the ten-thousand-dollar - prize!” - </p> - <p> - “That’s great news, sure,” cried Jack. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a mighty pity Dick ain’t here to celebrate,” growled the sheriff. - </p> - <p> - “What’s to be the name of the town?” asked Buck Ashley, in a disbelieving - tone. - </p> - <p> - “Tejon, after the old fort here,” replied Munson, as he pointed to the - featured article with its big-type headlines and started to cull a few - sentences. - </p> - <p> - “It says that the new city of Tejon, right here in the heart of a rich - horticultural valley, is bound to be one of the top-notch towns of - California. And the opening day is going to be immense. Next Tuesday is - the date fixed. Maps and plans of the new town will be ready for - distribution from the land company’s office, corner Main Street and - Broadway, at nine o’clock Monday morning. Let me see,” he went on, looking - up from the paper, “this is Wednesday. Mighty few days to wait, boys. You - just ought to see the excitement in Bakersfield.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I say there ain’t no such town,” snapped Buck Ashley, “nor no such - a company’s office buildin’, ‘cause I was down there day before yesterday - myself, right where them surveyin’ fellers have been foolin’ ‘round for - weeks, peekin’ through spy-glasses at each other and measurin’ off so many - feet this way and so many feet that way, like a bunch o’ kids playin’ some - game. No, siree, there’s nothin’ but long rows of white stakes driv in the - ground. Looks to me as if they was a-gettin’ ready to build a lot of - henhouses. Of course the railroad’s there, and the only thing changed that - I could see was a lot of side-tracks they’ve put in.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, things have been humming the last two days,” laughed Munson. “This - afternoon I found all the side-tracks filled with trains of lumber, - carload after carload, and not less than two or three hundred workmen, all - as busy as nailers. Looked to me as if a three-ring circus were getting - ready for a big show. They are already running up electric light poles and - stringing the wires. Some of the men are unloading cars, some stacking up - lumber, others are putting up tents, and the entire business reminded me - of a hive of extremely busy bees. Go down and look for yourself, Buck, and - you’ll be convinced at last that the new town has arrived.” - </p> - <p> - The old storekeeper had come from behind the counter, and stood leaning - against a stack of boxes. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve been here for more’n a quarter of a century, boys,” he said, in a - tone of seriousness that approached to sadness, “and this old store seems - like home to me. I’m some fighter and I’m some stayer. But, hell, I reckon - I know when I’m licked. I guess this new town puts a crimp in me and my - business, and—” - </p> - <p> - “Honk-honk; honk-honk”—it was the distant warning of an automobile - that interrupted Buck’s speech, and drew all four present to the doorway. - There was the glare of twin headlights on the southern road. - </p> - <p> - “Some of the Los Angeles buyers, most likely,” suggested the sheriff. - </p> - <p> - And so the travellers proved to be. The automobile halted at the store, - but only one of the party of four or five descended.. He was a - bright-faced, clean-shaven man, of dapper build and faultlessly attired. - In his hand was a bunch of papers. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Buck Ashley?” he inquired. - </p> - <p> - “I’m your man,” replied Buck, stepping from the doorway. - </p> - <p> - “Well, we can’t stop tonight. But we wanted to say ‘how-do.’ I represent - the Los Angeles Trust Syndicate, and these documents just arrived - yesterday from Washington, D. C.” - </p> - <p> - “Can’t be for me, then,” replied Buck, hesitating to take the proffered - papers. - </p> - <p> - “But they are,” replied the stranger with a laugh. “Oh, we haven’t - forgotten the interests of the old identities. We’ve had your name in mind - all the time, and this is a removal order from the Government to change - your postoffice over to the new town of Tejon.” - </p> - <p> - Buck was speechless as his fingers closed on the documents. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll hope to see you over on Tuesday morning, Mr. Ashley, so that you - can secure a good site for your new store. Now I must be going. We have - got to be in Bakersfield by eleven o’clock.” - </p> - <p> - “Honk-honk,” and the automobile was gone. - </p> - <p> - “Hell, Buck, have you lost your tongue?” cried Tom Baker, slipping the - storekeeper on the shoulder. “Don’t you see what it all means? You’re - goin’ to shift camp, old man; you’re goin’ into the new town.” - </p> - <p> - “Gosh ‘lmighty!” murmured Buck, at last recovering the power of - articulation. “I think the first thing to do is to lubricate.” - </p> - <p> - “A taste from the mystery keg,” suggested the sheriff, as they all crowded - back into the store. - </p> - <p> - “The mystery keg? What’s that?” asked Munson. - </p> - <p> - Buck laid his hand on a small barrel at the end of the counter. - </p> - <p> - “We call it the mystery keg,” he replied, “because we just found it - yesterday mornin’ settin’ at my back door. It has come to us sorta like - manna from heaven.” - </p> - <p> - “And tastes like manna, too,” interjected Baker. - </p> - <p> - “It means free drinks for all this pertic’lar bunch,” continued Buck, “for - there is no question as to where the keg came from. Look at the date on - the top—1853. This ‘ere barrel came out of Joaquin Murietta’s wine - cellar.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t say?” exclaimed Munson, pressing forward eagerly to examine the - little brass-hooped keg, looking bright and sound despite its antiquity. - </p> - <p> - “This whisky is sixty years old at least,” Buck went on, turning the tap - and filling a small pitcher. - </p> - <p> - “Tastes like it might be a hundred years older,” remarked the sheriff. - “Mellow as fresh drawn milk.” - </p> - <p> - Buck handed Munson a pony glass of the rare old beverage. - </p> - <p> - “By jove, it is fine,” said the lieutenant, judicially smacking his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Just makes my internals feel as soft and roly-poly as a ripe - pomegranate,” murmured Tom, as he set down his empty glass and rubbed his - belt-line in a complacent way. - </p> - <p> - “Well, we’ll fill up again, boys,” cried Buck. “Here’s to dear old Pierre - Luzon, for it was sure him who sent us the mystery keg.” - </p> - <p> - “And to Dick Willoughby who won the prize,” cried Jack Rover. - </p> - <p> - “And to our host,” added Munson in a courtly way. “To Buck Ashley, boys, - the postmaster of the new city of Tejon.” - </p> - <p> - “Hip, hip, hurrah!”—all four voices shouted the triple toast as the - upraised glasses clinked merrily. - </p> - <p> - Buck resumed his former position, with his back against the cracker boxes. - </p> - <p> - “As I was sayin’, boys, when that automobile interrupted us, I know when - I’m licked. But I know, too, that the fightin’ blood is still left in me, - and I was a-goin’ to remark that this new town sure ‘nuff looks a winner. - I’ve got plenty of lumber right in my back yard, and tomorrer mornin’ I - begin to have the scantlin’s cut, for, by jingoes, I’ll be the chap who - will build the first buildin’ in the new town.” - </p> - <p> - “Bully for you,” cried Munson. - </p> - <p> - “I say what I mean,” continued Buck, his face aglow with enthusiasm, “and - on Tuesday mornin’ I’ll buy the first town lot if I have to stand in line - for forty-eight hours to get it.” - </p> - <p> - “Life in the old dog yet,” laughed Jack Rover. “It’s wonderful the effect - of Pierre Luzon’s brew,” smiled the sheriff. “I think we’ll just have four - more spoonfuls, Buck, of that distilled nectar of sunshine. Success to the - new store, old man!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIX—-The Rendezvous - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>UMMER had come and - gone and it was now the early days of October. The mystery of Dick - Willoughby’s disappearance had remained unsolved, yet it was on his plans - that the new city of Tejon had been laid out, and, like the fabled palace - in the Arabian Nights’ tale, had sprung into being with such rapidity that - men rubbed their eyes to satisfy themselves whether the transformation - scene were an actuality or the baseless fabric of a dream. Within three - months of the opening day auction of lots Tejon was a thriving, hustling - centre of population, with whole avenues of beautiful homes, several - blocks of stores on the main street, schoolhouse and other public - buildings well on the way to completion. - </p> - <p> - Electricity had helped to the accomplishment of the miracle, for it had - been only necessary to tap the great power cables running across the old - rancho from the Kern River canyon to secure the supplies of “juice” both - for lighting and traction purposes. So there was already an interurban - tramway service connecting with the county seat, Bakersfield, while at - night the new town was a blaze of electricity. All around country homes - were going up, and ten and twenty acre holdings were being planted to - fruit trees or ploughed for alfalfa. - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston still clung to the ranch house, although it was definitely - understood now between him and the new owners that Thanksgiving Day was to - be the extreme limit of his occupancy. The hue and cry after Dick - Willoughby had in a measure subsided, but, if the authorities had relaxed - their efforts, Thurston still sought relentlessly and indefatigably for - the man accused of the slaying of his son. - </p> - <p> - One night at a lonely road-house on the outskirts of Bakersfield, the - sleuth, Leach Sharkey, was in close and secret conference with a bent and - bowed old man. This was none other than Pierre Luzon, although his - physical condition seemed to have greatly changed and he answered now to - the name of José. - </p> - <p> - The two men had met a few days before on the range; Pierre had spoken of - the scant living he was making from a herd of goats he pastured on the - mountains, and in the course of conversation had thrown out a hint for - information as to the amount of the reward that Mr. Thurston would be - willing to pay if Dick Willoughby were handed over to him. Sharkey had - eagerly followed the lead thus given. Hence this midnight meeting in the - road-house parlor for the discussion of terms and conditions over the - bottle of whisky that helps so efficaciously to dispel distrust and - unloosen tongues. - </p> - <p> - More than an hour had been spent in skirmishing preliminaries, but now - Leach Sharkey was congratulating himself that he had got his man fixed - just right. He was running over the final arrangements so as to make sure - that everything was clearly understood. - </p> - <p> - “Then Mr. Thurston and myself are to come to Comanche Point. You will take - us from there to the place where we’ll find Willoughby. That’s the - understanding, José?” - </p> - <p> - Pierre nodded in acquiescence. - </p> - <p> - “And you will bring wiz you ze reward of five tousand dollars—not - gold or silver, remember, but treasury bills, for I am not strong enough - now to carry a very heavy weight. Zen when you have paid me ze money, I - will lead you to Mr. Willoughby.” - </p> - <p> - “All right. I’m going to trust you and take my chances. But bear in mind - that you don’t get away with the cash until I have actually put the - handcuffs on the man I’m after.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I will not run away, Mr. Sharkey.” - </p> - <p> - “By God, if you try any monkey tricks on me, I’ll shoot you in your - tracks. Make no mistake about that, José. And it will be hands up first to - prove to me you have no gun.” - </p> - <p> - “As I have promised,” replied Pierre with some dignity, “I shall come - unarmed. But remember, Mr. Thurston and you must be alone. If zere are any - ozers I will not show myself—I will give no sign.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t worry about that. We’ll be alone. I need no other protection than - the two guns I always carry.” As he spoke, the sleuth slipped a hand to - one of his hip pockets, and with a grim smile, laid a vicious-looking - revolver on the table. - </p> - <p> - Luzon evinced no disquietude; he merely smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Sharkey he is ze famous man wiz ze two guns. I would take no risk wiz - him. But I wish to win ze reward.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, the reward is yours if you play the game straight. Thurston - and I will be there, and you will be there unarmed. The hour?” - </p> - <p> - “Four o’clock. I will watch you come to Comanche Point all alone along ze - road.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re certainly a cautious old duck,” laughed Sharkey. “However, that’s - all right. Four o’clock, then. And you said Tuesday next week, didn’t - you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Tuesday.” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey glanced at a big advertisement calendar on the wall. - </p> - <p> - “That will be the eleventh of the month. Then I think everything is - understood. Now I want to be off. I can just catch the last car to Tejon. - Shake. You can finish that drop of whisky by yourself, old man.” - </p> - <p> - They shook hands and Sharkey was gone. - </p> - <p> - The other waited for a few moments, cautiously and cunningly listening to - the retreating footsteps. Then he sprang erect, transformed in an instant - into a hale and vigorous man. Into his eyes there leapt a flash of joy, in - his heart was a song of triumph. - </p> - <p> - “So the villain Ben Thurston will be there at Comanche Point on the very - anniversary of the night, just thirty years ago, when he committed that - foul crime—at the very spot where the poor little Senorita Rosetta - and her unborn babe perished at his hands. Glory be to God! At last the - hour of vengeance comes!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXX—Don Manuel Appears - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> GOODLY little - sack of water-worn nuggets of gold had been washed out of the subterranean - stream by Pierre Luzon and Dick Willoughby. The captive had found in the - work both an exciting pastime and the ease of mind that comes from the - thought that his time was being spent to profitable account. So week after - week he had toiled on cheerfully, setting for himself each day a full - day’s task. In this way also, although the want of sunshine had paled his - cheeks, he had maintained his health by the regular physical exercise. - </p> - <p> - But as the appointed date of his release drew near, Dick’s mining - enthusiasm suffered an eclipse. The gold no longer tempted him, the - eight-hour day became a burden to his soul, his whole being was possessed - with feverish restlessness. He was not only filled with eager excitement - at the thought of again folding Merle in his arms, but he was fired with - curiosity to know what events were happening outside which would enable - him to step forth a free man, exculpated from all connection with the - crime of which he had been suspected, restored to an honorable place among - his fellow men. - </p> - <p> - But Pierre remained obstinately deaf to all hints for information. - </p> - <p> - “I can say nozing,” was his invariable reply. Then, to divert Dick’s mind, - he would challenge him at chess, a game in which they had proved to be - pretty equally matched, or he would produce the latest batch of - newspapers. - </p> - <p> - The young fellow had read with great delight the announcement that his - plans for the ideal city had been awarded the prize of ten thousand - dollars. Still more welcome had been the warmly congratulatory note - received from Merle at the hands of Pierre; for this letter, while it made - no reference to the point, virtually sealed the pact between the two - lovers that the money would provide for a glorious honeymoon trip to - Europe. Dick had sent instructions to Munson to notify the Los Angeles - syndicate in his name that the reward was to remain to the credit of the - winner until he would come personally to Tejon to claim it, probably about - the middle of October. - </p> - <p> - It wanted now only two days of the fateful date, the eleventh of that - month. Dick had already gathered together his personal belongings ready - for removal. He was pacing the grotto, when his eye chanced to fall upon - the sack of gold. - </p> - <p> - “I forgot about that, Pierre, old fellow,” he remarked. “We have to divide - this spoil.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” replied Pierre, with quiet determination, “it is all yours, Mr. - Willoughby, honestly earned, too. I have no need for any of ze gold. I - have all ze money I can ever spend during ze rest of my life.” - </p> - <p> - No amount of argument could shake the old Frenchman’s resolution. - </p> - <p> - “Then what is to be done with the sack? By jove, I’ll share it with our - Hidden Treasure Syndicate. By the way, where is Jack Rover now, Pierre?” - </p> - <p> - “He is living in Buck Ashley’s old store. Buck, you know, is ze postmaster - at Tejon, and has a splendid store in ze new city. But Jack Rover, he just - hang about ze old place.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Pierre, I’ve got a plan. You say it will not be until Tuesday - afternoon that I leave these quarters?” - </p> - <p> - “Zat is so, and I am sorry you must still wear ze blindfold, but it will - be for ze last time now.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m not kicking about that. I know the conditions under which I came - here. But it will be evening when we get clear of the hills, and I won’t - have any particular place to go to. Next morning it will be best for me to - ride right over to Bakersfield, to surrender myself and secure my formal - discharge. When, did you say, am I to get the necessary documents for all - this?” - </p> - <p> - “Before you depart from ze cave.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, everything will fit in fine. Tomorrow you have kindly promised to - take out my things. Just carry the nuggets along with you also, and leave - everything in Jack’s charge. But tell him that nothing must be opened or - disturbed until I arrive. I’m going to give Jack Rover the surprise of his - life when he sees that gold. The sack is too heavy to handle, but I guess - we can make it into several packages. Jack was always crazy to find - Guadalupe’s sand-bar.” - </p> - <p> - “So were lots of ozers,” grinned Pierre. “But they have never found it - yet. Even you will not be able to find it again when you are led out of - zese hills wearing ze blindfold.” - </p> - <p> - “I am fully aware of that, old man,” laughed Dick in reply. “I suppose I - couldn’t discover the place again in a hundred years. But Jack’s eyes will - fairly pop when he sees that bunch of gold marbles. He will be mighty - pleased to show the nuggets around to some of the boys who have laughed - over his enthusiasm, always declaring that Guadalupe’s gold simply came - from some old-timer’s sack of dust that had been part of Joaquin - Murietta’s plunder.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no. All ze bandits get out much gold from ze riffle in zose days—Don - Manuel himself had plenty.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Pierre, you just pack all my belongings to Buck Ashley’s old store. - And you tell Jack Rover to expect me about six o’clock the night after - tomorrow—that’s Tuesday. And I wish Munson to be there, too—I’ll - want him to accompany me to Bakersfield.” - </p> - <p> - “If you write a leetle note to ze lieutenant,” suggested Pierre, “I will - see zat it reaches his hands. But you must say very leetle—just a - few words. For nozing must be told to anyone outside until you are free.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, Pierre. Here goes.” And Dick seated himself at the writing - table. In a very few moments he had completed his task. - </p> - <p> - “See,” he said, returning to Pierre’s side. “I wish you to know exactly - what I have written—just a hurried scrawl.” And he read aloud while - the old Frenchman’s eyes rested on the paper: - </p> - <blockquote> - <p> - “On Tuesday night next, about six o’clock, meet me at Buck Ashley’s old - store. I shall want you to ride over to Bakersfield with me next morning, - where my acquittal is assured. Give Merle the glad news. Yours, Dick.” - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - “Guess that’s all right?” he added, as he folded the note and placed it in - an envelope on which he had already inscribed the name of Lieutenant - Munson. - </p> - <p> - Pierre had signified his approval with a nod, and now he carefully - bestowed the letter in the pocket of his shirt. - </p> - <p> - “He will get ze letter—he will surely be zere.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you say I cannot write to Merle—Miss Farnsworth, I mean?” - </p> - <p> - “I have ze strictest orders,” replied Pierre. “Nozing must be told just - yet. Bah! It is only two days more.” - </p> - <p> - “Two mighty long days for me, old sport,” said Dick, half in jest and half - in sober earnest, as he sat down and began cutting at a plug of tobacco. - </p> - <p> - Most of next day Willoughby was alone. But at the regular dinner hour - Pierre appeared, and announced that he had safely packed the valise and - the gold in four bags to the old store, and Jack Rover had been apprised - of Dick’s coming on the following night. - </p> - <p> - “He knew what was in ze sacks,” laughed Pierre. “Zey were so very heavy, - oh my! But I told him I would come back and shoot him like a jack-rabbit - if he opened zem before you came.” - </p> - <p> - “Guess it needed an old bandit like you to scare Jack Rover,” replied - Dick, jocularly. But he was very happy—everything was going along - well—only another four-and-twenty hours now and his captivity would - be at an end. - </p> - <p> - That night Dick could hardly sleep a wink, and next morning he was too - restless and impatient for his approaching liberation to keep within the - confines of the little grotto. In the darkness of the big central cavern - he walked up and down, casting occasional glances at the distant glow of - the log fire where, as he could see, both the aged squaw and the white - wolf were on vigilant and ceaseless guard. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly his steps were arrested. With great surprise he gazed toward the - log fire. There, with Guadalupe and the white wolf, stood the figure of a - strange man, cloaked and wearing a big sombrero. All their shapes were - outlined against the ruddy glow, and the monstrous beast was actually - fawning at the newcomer’s feet. A moment later the stranger, with a - parting wave of his hand to Guadalupe, advanced toward the spot where Dick - was standing. Close by was an oil lantern set in a socket of the rock wall - to mark the entrance to the inner grotto. - </p> - <p> - For a minute the approaching figure had been swallowed up in the darkness, - but now came the sound of his footsteps crunching on the sandy floor, and - a few seconds later he appeared in the flickering radiance. Dick - Willoughby had already made his inference as to the identity of the - newcomer—he had been so often told that no living man but the bandit - chief, Don Manuel, could pass the white wolf with impunity. - </p> - <p> - But the name Dick pronounced was quite a different one. - </p> - <p> - “Senor Ricardo Robles—it is you—<i>you?</i>” - </p> - <p> - “It is I,” replied the Spaniard, quietly, as he extended his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Then you are—Don Manuel—the—” - </p> - <p> - Dick faltered and paused. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am Don Manuel de Valencia, the outlaw, the bandit of Tehachapi, - the White Wolf, as he is commonly called. Come within, my friend. I have - matters of importance to communicate.” And the visitor led the way with an - ease that showed his perfect familiarity with every opening and turning in - the great subterranean series of chambers. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot remain with you very long,” said Mr. Robles, when they were - seated in the inner grotto, “for I have a number of things to attend to - during the few hours that still remain at my disposal.” - </p> - <p> - “I must not ask questions,” remarked Dick, although his words belied the - questioning look in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, although I speak in confidence,” Mr. Robles replied, “having learned - to trust you, I shall make no secret of my contemplated movements. Tonight - I hope to settle my last score”—he paused, then corrected himself—“my - last piece of business in California. If all goes well, within twenty-four - hours I shall be on the high seas. Never mind my exact route, but my final - destination is Spain, the land of my fathers. There, perhaps, you and I - may meet again.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope so. I have come to be deeply interested in you, Mr. Robles.” - </p> - <p> - “And I in you, young man, all the more because you are now engaged to one - I hold very dear. Since her birth, Merle Farnsworth has been a—little - protégée of mine.” Again he had hesitated, and his voice had vibrated from - emotion. But he was smiling now as he went on: “I have watched with - sympathetic interest and approval the progress of your love affair.” - </p> - <p> - “Through your spy-glass on the tower?” laughed Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Well, partly in that way, perhaps,” replied Mr. Robles, with eyebrows - humorously upraised. “You have had my quiet support from beginning to end, - and now that you have won the young lady’s heart, you have my most sincere - congratulations. May you have long years together, and every happiness.” - </p> - <p> - He had clasped Dick’s hand, and placed his disengaged hand affectionately - on the young man’s shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “You are really very kind,” said Dick, cordially responding to the hand - clasp. - </p> - <p> - “Because I have counted you worthy of your great good fortune in winning - such a girl as Merle. And I have taken much the same liking to your - friend, Chester Munson. Have you heard the news: - </p> - <p> - “No, but I can guess it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he and Grace Darlington are engaged. And to them I give my heartiest - blessing just as I have given it to you and Merle. For Grace, like her - adopted sister, has been always very dear to me. I have loved them both - very dearly indeed all through their young lives.” - </p> - <p> - “And both are devoted to you, as I happen to know,” affirmed Dick with - warm conviction. - </p> - <p> - “I believe it,” replied Mr. Robles. His hand sought an inner pocket and - drew forth a legal-looking document. “I came here not only to bid you - good-bye, but more important still to place this in your possession.” - </p> - <p> - “My release?” exclaimed Dick eagerly, as his fingers closed on the paper. - </p> - <p> - “Well, not exactly—but it will lead to that, never fear. It is an - affidavit which has been properly sworn to before a San Francisco notary - public. It briefly sets out my confession. It was I, Don Manuel de - Valencia, who killed Marshall Thurston, or at least was responsible for - his killing.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke the words, the outlaw drew himself proudly erect. Dick was too - overwhelmed with amazement to reply. - </p> - <p> - “The young ruffian was shot partly because he deserved his fate for - insulting Merle, partly because, as you cannot but know, Don Manuel, the - White Wolf, had sworn a vendetta against the whole Thurston brood.” - </p> - <p> - “Then Ben Thurston—is he dead, too?” gasped the listener. - </p> - <p> - “Not yet,” was the grim reply. Then he paused and changed his tone. - </p> - <p> - “But I want to speak not another word about this. What happens to Ben - Thurston is nothing of your concern—must be nothing of your concern. - For this document here frees you from all legal entanglements, and I have - no wish that you should by any chance become enmeshed again. So we dismiss - Ben Thurston from our talk and from our minds. When you lodge this paper - with the authorities at Bakersfield, it will be a matter only of a few - formalities to secure dismissal of the charge against you. For I even put - it on sworn record that your jail delivery that night was against your - will.” - </p> - <p> - “I have forgotten to thank you for that same delivery. I never dreamed you - were my liberator, Mr. Robles.” - </p> - <p> - “Because that night I was Don Manuel de Valencia. But at present I am - Ricardo Robles, and in that capacity it is for me to thank you for having - so chivalrously protected our dear Merle from the necessity of associating - her name in any way with the death of that worthless young scoundrel. I - appreciate the cheerful manner in which you have, for her sake, and let me - add, for my sake, too, borne your long imprisonment here.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve been mighty comfortable,” laughed Dick, with a glance around his - luxurious quarters. “And Pierre Luzon has been a treasure—a good - comrade all the time.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes, Pierre,” exclaimed the outlaw, musingly. “Pierre is a very good - fellow. He has been faithful to me for thirty long years.” - </p> - <p> - “And where does he go after tonight?” asked Dick. “He cannot stay here, - all alone except for Guadalupe.” - </p> - <p> - “Everything is arranged. Guadalupe is accustomed to live alone. But - tonight Pierre accompanies me on my long journey.” - </p> - <p> - “So we may all meet again?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, we may all meet again,” responded Robles, slowly and gravely, “far, - far away from the Tehachapi mountains. But now I must go,” he went on in a - brisk tone, “for I have to make some final preparations. You have the - affidavit; see that you do not lose it on your ride down the mountains.” - </p> - <p> - “You just bet I won’t,” replied Dick, as he held tightly to the precious - document with both hands. - </p> - <p> - “Pierre will come for you here early in the afternoon. Be prepared to go - with him then. As for myself, Willoughby, there is for the present only - one word more to be spoken. Adios!” Again they clasped hands, and a moment - later Don Manuel was gone. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXI—Shadows of the Past - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N a little - summer-house at the edge of the rose garden of La Siesta, Tia Teresa was - seated all alone. She was awaiting the coming of Mr. Robles to a - rendezvous which he had arranged by a confidential message sent on the - previous evening. It wanted some time yet of the appointed hour, but in - her state of deep emotion and repressed excitement she had gladly sought - the solitude of this secluded corner. Deep in thought, her mind was - divided between the faraway past and the near-impending future. - </p> - <p> - Each recurring year this day to her had always been a sad and tragic - anniversary. In the early hours of the morning she had been to the old - Mexican cemetery on the hillside, and had bedecked with flowers the grave - marked by the marble cross bearing the single word “Hermana,” also the - graves close by of the parents of Don Manuel and Rosetta, the children she - had nursed and tended and fondled from infancy to early manhood and - womanhood, through twenty years of unalloyed happiness until the gringo - had come, the ancestral acres had been filched away, and dishonor and - death been brought to the slumbrously peaceful home. - </p> - <p> - And from that slumbrous peace what a sudden and terrible change! On this - day thirty years ago poor little Rosetta had been found done to death - beneath the precipice at Comanche Point. No less done to death by the - shock and shame of the pitiful story thus revealed, the aged parents of - the beautiful young girl were, within a few days, sleeping their long last - sleep by her side in the churchyard on the hill. A whole family blighted - and withered as by the blast of some death-laden sirocco. - </p> - <p> - Then had followed the years of terror during which Don Manuel, the White - Wolf, the dreaded outlaw, had wreaked his vengeance on the whole race of - gringos. She had never seen him all through that time, although at - intervals money had reached her by Pierre Luzon’s trusted hand, enabling - her to maintain herself in the little Mexican village near the old fort of - Tejon. At last had come the fight when the band of outlaws had been - finally dispersed, Pierre Luzon wounded and dragged away to serve the rest - of his days in prison, Don Manuel vanished like a wraith in the mist, gone - where no man could tell. - </p> - <p> - But through the years that succeeded, Tia Teresa had known that he lived—had - known in her heart of hearts that he would live until the vendetta he had - sworn against Ben Thurston would be accomplished. The remittances that - arrived from time to time, first from Spain, then from England, needed no - signature to show that they were from her young master of former years and - that he still held his faithful old nurse in affectionate remembrance. And - at last had come the crowning surprise of all. - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa had been bidden to come to Los Angeles by a letter which bore a - strange signature, but the handwriting of which she had immediately - recognized. And there, in a fine home beneath the foothills that skirt the - city to the north, she had found Don Manuel again, much older in manner - than by lapse of years—quiet, reserved, tinged with a sadness of - which she knew the cause, but happy withal, for he was married to a - beautiful English girl and had a little baby daughter. And as nurse to - this child Tia Teresa, to her great joy, was promptly installed. - </p> - <p> - Thus again she had become the trusted servant in Don Manuel’s home, the - only one around him possessing his full confidence and knowing the secret - story of his past. For, amid these changed surroundings, his name was - Ricardo Robles, his standing that of a Spaniard or Mexican of wealth, of - scholarly tastes, and devoted to the seclusion of his home with its - spacious surrounding gardens. - </p> - <p> - Their next door neighbors were an English family named Darlington, Mrs. - Darlington and Mrs. Robles having been life-long friends. And here, too, - was another tiny child in the home, likewise a daughter. - </p> - <p> - Seated in the summer-house, Tia Teresa was going over in her mind the - whole chain of happenings—the new era that had dawned and had - brought the hope of restored and abiding happiness for Don Manuel. But it - had been fated not so to be. Within a year his young wife had died, his - child was motherless, he himself, if not alone in the world, was - broken-hearted. For a spell he had fits of brooding, then all of a sudden - he had sold the home that could only henceforth be for him a place of - saddening memories. - </p> - <p> - His daughter Merle, taking her English mother’s maiden name of Farnsworth, - was transferred to the loving care of Mrs. Darlington. Thus had it come - about that Grace Darlington and Merle Farnsworth had been brought up as - sisters, with Tia Teresa their nurse, and in later years their devoted - attendant. - </p> - <p> - Ricardo Robles had resolved to travel, but Tia Teresa had quickly divined - that the vendetta was again in his heart. For no other reason could he - have decided on masking the paternity of his infant daughter by giving her - the maternal name. And from Tia Teresa Don Manuel had no secret to - conceal. “Yes.” He had sworn he would hunt Ben Thurston through Europe, - and it was to protect the future life of his child from any association - with future consequences of the blood feud that he had handed her over to - his friends under their solemn promise that, as Merle grew up, she should - never know anything more than that both her parents had died. - </p> - <p> - So once again Don Manuel had gone his way and disappeared. Some years - later the Darlington home had been transferred to England, where Mr. - Darlington had fallen heir to some ancestral estates. Again, after a lapse - of years, another change had occurred—Mr. Darlington dying, and Mrs. - Darlington being left a widow in the big, now gloomy, English - country-house, with Grace and Merle approaching young womanhood, and all - of them, Tia Teresa included, longing again for the sunshine of - California. - </p> - <p> - Intermittently during those years in England, Ricardo Robles had visited - his friends, but the secret about his real relationship to Merle had - always been preserved. Both daughters in the home had been brought up - alike to regard him simply as a dear and valued friend, whose comings - brought much happiness to their lives in the shape of gifts which - preserved fond memories during his prolonged spells of absence. - </p> - <p> - And while the little family was still plunged in deep sorrow for the death - of Mr. Darlington, Mr. Robles had reappeared as the messenger of great - joy. For he brought the news that the beautiful rancho of La Siesta, lying - in mid-California, among the foothills of the Tejon Valley, had been - purchased for the express purpose that the widow and children should make - it their future place of abode. In this way had come about the return to - the land which each and all already loved best and regarded as truly - “home.” - </p> - <p> - “Five years ago!” murmured Tia Teresa pensively. And they had been all so - happy here, the young girls growing up with every accomplishment money and - the best governesses could bestow, Don Manuel not far away watching the - progress and developing beauty of his daughter, always hovering near for - acts of helpful kindness. - </p> - <p> - Five years of placid enjoyment, of unbroken tranquility, till all of a - sudden the old enemy had returned and all the rankling wounds of the old - vendetta had been reopened! - </p> - <p> - In the Spanish soul of Tia Teresa there was bitter hate still, and fierce - joy even now that the hour of retribution was approaching—that at - last after all those years her little Rosetta would be avenged. Yet time - had had some mellowing influences, for in her musings now she experienced - a vague sense of uneasiness for possible consequences that in former times - had never for a moment been tolerated. The true spirit of the vendetta had - always been in her very blood—strike when you can, without thought - of what may happen next. - </p> - <p> - But now she was thinking of coming happenings—of sorrow perhaps for - Merle, of the undoubted danger for Don Manuel himself. - </p> - <p> - And while thus she conned the chances, her head bent in deep meditation, - her eyes half closed, Ricardo Robles, approaching with noiseless step, - stood by her side and laid an affectionate hand upon her shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “I have come, Tia Teresa,” he said simply, as he sat down at the edge of - the little rustic table. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXII—Forebodings - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>OR this last hour, - Don Manuel,” she said, placing a hand on his, “I have been going over all - the long story of the past, from the days when you were a little boy and - Rosetta was suckled at my bosom. Why should I not have loved her?” asked - the old duenna almost fiercely. “Why should I not love her still?” she - added, in a lower tone, as she bowed her head and covered her eyes with - her disengaged hand. “There is love that can never die, Don Manuel.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor should we wish it otherwise,” he said gently, caressing the hand - extended toward him. “And this very night our undying love for dear little - Rosetta will be proved—tonight at last she will be avenged.” - </p> - <p> - With a start Tia Teresa sat erect. - </p> - <p> - “Then it is all arranged?” she asked breathlessly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, all finally arranged,” was his quiet rejoinder. “We meet this - evening on Comanche Point—the place where I have always vowed he - should answer for his crime. And you remember what day this is?” - </p> - <p> - “I remember—can I ever forget?—the very day we found her dead - beneath the cliff.” - </p> - <p> - “The very day, Tia Teresa. So my vengeance will be complete. Before now I - could have shot him a dozen times. But he would never have known that his - death was by my hand. Tonight, however, he will know. And he will realize - that the vendetta is the law of God—an eye for an eye, a tooth for a - tooth; his life, so precious to himself, for hers so dear to us in the - happy old-time days.” - </p> - <p> - “But you, Don Manuel?” she asked fearfully. - </p> - <p> - “It does not matter much about me,” he answered. “But all the same I have - come to speak a little in regard to myself. Tonight Ben Thurston assuredly - will die, and should I perish with him, the story of the vendetta cannot - fail to be revived and the identity of the recluse, Ricardo Robles, with - Don Manuel, the outlaw, will be established. This will come as a great - shock to all my dear friends at La Siesta—to Mrs. Darlington as well - as to Grace and Merle. But this counts for little—the name of Don - Manuel is just as honorable a name as that of Robles. And you can tell - them further that all the loot I ever took from the gringos lies today - untouched in Joaquin Murietta’s cave. I sullied my hands with none of it. - I was made rich by the sale of, my ancestral estates in Spain. And that - wealth the law cannot confiscate, for I have been only its trustee during - all those years. Everything I possess has been vested from the first in - the names of Merle Farnsworth and Grace Darlington.” - </p> - <p> - “Grace as well?” murmured Tia Teresa, enquiringly. - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, for I love both the girls dearly; there is ample to divide - between them, and by ranking them together I guard Merle from the thought - that I was anything more to her than to Grace. To both alike I was just a - deeply attached friend.” He paused a moment, then regarded Tia Teresa - fixedly. “For my little girl must never know that her father was an - outlaw, with a price on his head; yes, with blood on his hands, if it is - only the blood of the worthless Thurston breed.” - </p> - <p> - “That is no stain—it is an honor—it is a duty that you owed,” - exclaimed the duenna with fervency, her hands clenched against her bosom - as she spoke. - </p> - <p> - “You understand—we understand the vendetta, you and I, Tia Teresa. - But the Americanos do not understand. And I have brought up my little girl - as an American, for her own happiness I long ago realized. So she would - never understand. When she comes to know that her old friend Ricardo - Robles was Don Manuel de Valencia as well, she will breathe a gentle - prayer of rest for his soul. But she will not be distressed by the - knowledge that her father was the bandit and outlaw—she will not - have to face the cruel world with that stigma attached to her name. For - that I have contrived, for that I have suffered the dumb agony of - childlessness all these years.” - </p> - <p> - “And that, in God’s name,” exclaimed Tia Teresa, “is part of the price Ben - Thurston, thrice accursed, has to pay.” - </p> - <p> - “And tonight will pay,” responded Don Manuel, determinedly. “But I speak - of all this just to put you on your guard. It will be necessary for me to - say something to Mrs. Darlington as well. I have brought for her the - papers that will establish the rights of Merle and Grace to all I leave - behind.” As he spoke he touched his coat where the shape of a packet in an - inner pocket showed. - </p> - <p> - “Your will?” - </p> - <p> - “No. As I have explained, I require no will. The property is theirs - already. And I do not need to tell you, my dear Tia Teresa, my beloved - friend, that you, too, have not been forgotten.” As he spoke he raised her - hand and pressed it reverently to his lips. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t speak like that, Don Manuel,” she protested. - </p> - <p> - “I know that all I owe to you can never be repaid,” he continued, humbly, - gratefully—“the devoted life-service for me and for Rosetta and our - beloved parents as well.” - </p> - <p> - Again he kissed her hand, and this time she accepted the seal of his - high-souled and chivalrous regard. There were tears in her eyes now. - </p> - <p> - “But, Don Manuel, you need not die tonight. Death for him—that is - right. But why for you?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps not for me—most certainly,” he replied with a little, - reassuring smile. “Oh, do not imagine that I deliberately court death for - tonight. On the contrary, I have all my plans carefully laid. An - automobile is ready for the road, and I have a yacht waiting for me at a - quiet spot on the coast, and if all is well, by tomorrow’s dawn Pierre and - I will be on the ocean. No one around here except at La Siesta will miss - Ricardo Robles, and if the name of Don Manuel is associated with the death - of Ben Thurston, only once more will the White Wolf have strangely - disappeared just as he used to do in the old times.” - </p> - <p> - He was laughing, not loudly, but just with carefree, almost joyous - triumph, as he rose to say good-bye. - </p> - <p> - “Then, Tia Teresa, if events work out just as I have planned, we may all - meet again, somewhere, somehow—I cannot say more at present. For I - shall be happy to see my little girl happy in her married love, and later - on I shall close my eyes contentedly when I can feel assured that nothing - from the past will ever emerge to spoil her life or bring to her distress - of mind.” - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa, too, had arisen. - </p> - <p> - “God grant it may be so,” she fervently exclaimed. “But somehow my mind - misgives me. Today I am softened as I have never been before. Even for the - sake of our dear Rosetta in Heaven I feel inclined to plead with you to - let Thurston go his way and the vendetta be forgotten.” And she clung to - his arm imploringly. - </p> - <p> - “Never!” cried Don Manuel, putting her gently but resolutely aside. “That - can never be, Tia Teresa. You know it. A vow sworn over my wronged and - murdered sister’s grave, over the graves of my parents as well, must be - fulfilled. To break it at the very moment when it is in my power to give - it fulfillment would be the act of a coward—a sacrilege that could - never be atoned. No more words like that. I must not even listen.” - </p> - <p> - She was sobbing as she dropped back into her chair. Her silence was the - confession that she was powerless to argue against the unwritten law of - the vendetta. - </p> - <p> - “So I kiss you good-bye for the present, Tia Teresa.” He suited the action - to the word, and, stooping, saluted her first on one cheek, then on the - other. “Be your old brave and resolute self again. Where shall I find Mrs. - Darlington?” - </p> - <p> - “Alone in her boudoir. This is her day for correspondence,” replied the - duenna, resolutely striving to repress her tears. - </p> - <p> - “Then I’ll leave you here. Let your best wishes go with me.” - </p> - <p> - Almost lightly he touched her hand and was gone, disappearing among the - roses. - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa bowed her head across her folded arms. She was thinking not of - the past now, but solely of the future. - </p> - <p> - “How would it all end?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIII—Old Friends - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>M glad to find you - alone,” spoke Mr. Robles, as he advanced into the subdued light of Mrs. - Darlington’s boudoir. - </p> - <p> - She was seated at her escritoire. Around her were letters lying open for - answer, others sealed and ready for the mail, also sundry books of account - which indicated that the chatelaine of La Siesta was a business woman who - paid attention to the running of her household and the management of her - estate. - </p> - <p> - “Always so pleased to see you,” she replied, as she rose to give her - visitor welcome. - </p> - <p> - “Pray, keep your seat, Mrs. Darlington. You form an attractive picture—the - lady who is not too much of a lady to neglect her correspondence and her - business affairs. And it is about some business matters that I have come - to talk with you this evening.” - </p> - <p> - She smiled pleasedly over the compliment paid in the old-fashioned courtly - style of the true Spanish grandee. She herself always suggested the - old-time, old-world lady of fashion—one belonging to the old lace - and sweet lavender era that has so nearly passed away. - </p> - <p> - “Business matters?” echoed Mrs. Darlington. “That sounds quite serious. We - have had no cause to talk business for years and years. La Siesta has - certainly justified its name.” - </p> - <p> - “But even the most pleasant siesta must in time come to an end,” he - replied with a grave smile. “There are things in this world that must be - accomplished—calls of duty that interfere sadly with continuous - repose. I am leaving tonight on a journey—perhaps a long journey,” - he added slowly and thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, going abroad? The wanderlust again? That’s too bad. We shall all miss - you so much.” She spoke the words with real concern in her tone and in her - eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Not exactly the wanderlust,” he responded. “But there is a certain task I - must perform. And it takes me away—far away from your delightful La - Siesta.” - </p> - <p> - “And for a long time?” - </p> - <p> - “That will be decided by events. I shall write you a long letter when once - I am on the ocean. Meanwhile there are certain documents I wish to leave - in your charge, my good kind friend.” - </p> - <p> - He drew the packet from the breast pocket of his coat. “They are important - papers, and I wish them to be locked in your safe.” - </p> - <p> - “Under seal, I see,” she remarked, indicating the big circle of wax that - closed the cover. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sealed with my signet,” he answered, touching the ring on his - finger. “But all the same I wish you to know the nature of their contents. - That is why I have sought this little private talk.” - </p> - <p> - Silently she settled herself to listen, and he went on: - </p> - <p> - “You are aware that many years ago I sold out all my interests in Spain—lands - and flocks and mines. Well, except for the money I used in building and - furnishing my home, I invested the whole amount so realized in British - Government bonds. But not in my own name. They stand in the names of Merle - Farnsworth and Grace Darlington.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington showed some surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Merle, of course. But why Grace, Mr. Robles? I need not tell you that she - is already well provided for.” - </p> - <p> - “That I fully understand. But I preferred it so. To me both children were - very dear, and have always continued to be very dear. There was more than - a sufficiency to divide. I wished them to share my patrimony, even though - the one might have a greater claim on me than the other. But it was - precisely, to guard against such a thought occurring to the mind of any - outsider that I have treated Merle and Grace exactly alike. The secret - that Merle is my daughter is known only to you and Tia Teresa and me, and, - as I have always wished, it must be kept from Merle herself and from all - others—now, more than ever,” he added after a little pause. - </p> - <p> - “I have never sought to pry into this mystery,” replied Mrs. Darlington. - “You had valid reasons for it, I well understood. But I was glad for the - wee baby’s sake to take her to my heart—the child of the dearest - friend of my girlhood days. And it was nice, too, for her to have her - mother’s maiden name—Merle Farnsworth. So, from the very first, I - loved her just as much as my own baby, Grace.” - </p> - <p> - “That I know,” said Robles, gratefully touching her hand. “I can never - adequately thank you for the mother love you have so generously bestowed - on my child. And I have always been grateful, too, for the chivalrous - manner in which you have never sought to have me explain my actions in - this matter—my virtual separation from the daughter whom, while - hiding our relationship, I have loved all through her young life with - passionate devotion.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Robles was deeply moved. He bowed his head and covered his eyes with - his hand. In sympathy, Mrs. Darlington also was greatly affected. - </p> - <p> - “You have been the best of fathers to Merle,” she said in a trembling - voice, “even though Merle little dreams of what she really means to your - life. But oh, Mr. Robles, how often have I not pitied you when I have seen - you restraining in her presence the natural impulses of your heart!” - </p> - <p> - “It was my duty,” he replied, regaining his composure by stern - self-command and sitting erect again. “My bounden duty to her,” he added, - resolutely. “So, as you have so kindly done before, we shall leave that - subject alone. You call it a mystery. Be it so. Just let it abide a - mystery to the end. Now, Mrs. Darlington,” he went on in a changed tone, - “please lock up these papers. If I ever want them again I shall come to - you. But if anything should happen to me, the seal is to be broken. You - are my trustee. But there is no troublesome will to prove and execute. As - I have already indicated, all the property I die possessed of, all the - property that is inalienably and rightfully mine, including my home on the - hill—everything is already apportioned between Merle and Grace, and - stands in their names by a deed that dates back almost to their days of - infancy.” - </p> - <p> - “It is unheard-of generosity,” protested Mrs. Darlington. “I mean so far - as Grace is concerned.” - </p> - <p> - “Not another word, I beg of you. I have already given valid reasons - besides those of affection and gratitude. Now, Mrs. Darlington, let me see - you lock up these documents, and my mind will be at rest.” - </p> - <p> - Without further speech she took the packet of papers from his hand, - crossed the room, and, standing before a safe inset into the wall and - already open, deposited the papers in a little drawer. Then she swung back - the safe door, and the click of the combination as she turned the knob - told that her visitor’s wishes had been fully complied with. Slowly she - returned to her seat at the desk. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” said Mr. Robles, pressing her hand. - </p> - <p> - “Then I am not to ask why you are leaving us tonight?” enquired Mrs. - Darlington. - </p> - <p> - “Please not. I just came to you, as I have many times done before, to - speak the little word—<i>Adios</i>. And it has always been spoken - brightly between us, my dear friend. For have I not returned again and - again like the proverbial bad penny?” he continued with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “And so it will be yet again, I hope,” she replied. “Bad pennies of your - kind, Mr. Robles, are better than minted gold. And you must think of the - young people. Engagements should not be too long. Everything is settled so - far as Dick and Merle are concerned—with your full approval?” - </p> - <p> - “With my fullest approval, and to my great joy and peace of mind.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, and you know, too, that it is just the same old story as regards - Chester Munson and my little girl.” - </p> - <p> - “Munson has so informed me. He wanted my congratulations on his good - fortune. Chester Munson is certainly a fine fellow, and Grace could have - made no better choice for the bestowal of her love. Again I am filled with - happiness at the turn events have taken.” - </p> - <p> - “But if there are to be wedding bells for four, their peal will not be so - joyous if you are absent, my dear Mr. Robles.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall try to be present,” he replied, with a little wistful smile. “Who - knows? Wouldn’t it be fine if the wedding bells were to ring in Spain?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, my friend. You forget that all four are young Americans. The - honeymoons in Spain, if you like. But the weddings in California, please.” - </p> - <p> - “So be it,” he answered. “Then if I cannot get back for the wedding bells, - we may have a family reunion during the honeymoons.” He laughed almost - gaily as he rose. “Now, where are our young Americans? I wish to say - good-bye to them, too.” - </p> - <p> - “Where Dick Willoughby is, I cannot say. But he is safe—you still - assure me of his safety, Mr. Robles?” - </p> - <p> - “Assuredly. And I have good news for our dear Merle. Tomorrow Willoughby - will be free, with every suspicion removed from his name.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that will be glad tidings indeed for Merle—for both the girls.” - </p> - <p> - “Then let us take the news to them. Where shall we find them?” - </p> - <p> - “As usual, I fancy, in their favorite cosy corner. And Mr. Munson is here, - too. He is to have luncheon with us. He said you had given him a day off - from his onerous library duties.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite correct. I told him I would meet him here, for I have a message for - him as well. Come then, let us join the young people.” - </p> - <p> - Again, like the courtly hidalgo, he presented a hand to his hostess and - led her from the room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIV—Heart Searchings - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>S Mrs. Darlington - had anticipated, the trio of young Americans were discovered in the cosy - corner. Grace and Munson were engaged in a tête-à-tête that was obviously - very delightful to themselves, while Merle at a discreet distance was - busily engaged in watering the pot plants and flowers. She was the first - to sound a note of warning. - </p> - <p> - “Here comes mother, and Mr. Robles, also, I do declare.” - </p> - <p> - The young lovers started a little apart, and Grace in a moment was - demurely busy over a bit of sewing that had been resting undisturbed in - her lap during the previous half hour. - </p> - <p> - Merle advanced toward Mr. Robles. - </p> - <p> - “This is delightful,” she exclaimed, as she warmly shook hands. “You will - stay to luncheon, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “No, my dear. This is to be only a brief visit, I am sorry to say.” - </p> - <p> - Grace had also come forward, and he saluted her in his usual quiet, kindly - manner. But for Munson he had a word of sly banter. - </p> - <p> - “Better than drilling a squad or cataloguing musty old books,” he - remarked, bestowing a significant side glance in Grace’s direction. - </p> - <p> - “Infinitely better,” replied the ex-soldier and amateur librarian, with - frank and unabashed satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Robles took a seat close to Merle. - </p> - <p> - “I came to bring you two pieces of news,” he said, taking her hand, yet - addressing his words to all the company. “First and foremost, by tomorrow - the charge against Dick Willoughby will be withdrawn, and he will be a - free man.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that is good news indeed,” cried Merle, fairly hugging its bearer. - </p> - <p> - “Then they have at last discovered the murderer of young Thurston?” - enquired Munson in a tone of eager satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, or rather he has discovered himself, I believe. Oh, you need not ask - me for the name. It will only be made public when Willoughby formally - claims his liberty.” - </p> - <p> - “I am so thankful,” murmured Grace. “But of course Dick’s complete - exoneration was bound to come.” - </p> - <p> - “And I am the bearer of a special message to you, Mr. Munson. I have not - read it. But it was given to me as the one most likely to get it promptly - into your hands.” - </p> - <p> - Speaking thus, he passed over to Munson the hasty scrawl that Dick had - written in the cavern and entrusted to Pierre Luzon for delivery. - </p> - <p> - Munson ripped open the envelope, first scanned the contents, then read - aloud: - </p> - <p> - “On Tuesday night next, about six o’clock, meet me at Buck Ashley’s old - store. I shall want you to ride over to Bakersfield with me next morning, - where my acquittal is assured. Give Merle the glad news. Yours, Dick.” - </p> - <p> - “That I have already been privileged to do,” said Mr. Robles, as he smiled - down on the young girl by his side. Their eyes met, and a look of grave - earnestness came into Merle’s. - </p> - <p> - “And the second item of news, Mr. Robles?” she asked, in a low tone. “I - hope it is also gladsome tidings.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it is of comparative unimportance,” he answered. “Simply that I am - going away on a long journey, and may not see all you happy young people - again for quite awhile.” - </p> - <p> - Merle’s face fell. “I am so sorry,” she murmured, a note of real feeling - in the softly-spoken words. - </p> - <p> - “As you grow older you will realize that the world is full of partings, - Merle,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - “But why should there be partings among us?” she protested. “Now that Dick - is free, there is not a shadow on all our happiness. And we do so wish you - to share it, Mr. Robles. It will not be just the same if you are gone.” - </p> - <p> - “It is very kind of you to think like that.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s just how we all think,” interjected Grace. “But when duty calls, - one must needs answer,” replied Robles. “Right there is an end to all - argument.” - </p> - <p> - “And where are you going this time, Mr. Robles?” enquired Merle. - </p> - <p> - “On a long journey—as far as Europe, I hope. But my plans are not - quite certain, except that I start tonight. However, I shall be in - correspondence with Mrs. Darlington, and I trust that when you young - people come to make that contemplated foreign tour, your footsteps will be - turned in my direction. Meanwhile you have, all of you, as you already - know, my warmest congratulations and heartiest good wishes.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, Mr. Robles rose. His manner indicated that he wished no - further questioning. After a comprehensive glance around, he advanced, - first of all, to Munson and extended his hand. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Munson, you will receive a letter tomorrow that contains an offer for - you to continue your work in my library, which I hope will prove - acceptable, at least for the present. Grace, my dear, I take the liberty - of an old friend.” And he kissed her brow. “With your mother I already - have had a good long talk,” he continued, as he pressed Mrs. Darlington’s - hand and looked into her eyes. “And now, Merle, dear, I am going to ask - you to gather me some roses in your garden. I want them for a particular - purpose, and, as you know, there are no roses like those of La Siesta.” - </p> - <p> - Merle was standing eager and happy to do his bidding—privileged to - have the chance of conferring such a little service on her dear old - friend, her friend from the earliest childhood days of her remembrance. - With impulsive good-nature, Grace was ready to help as well. But a quiet - look from her mother restrained her, and Merle and Mr. Robles passed from - the verandah, hand in hand. - </p> - <p> - For nearly an hour they wandered among the rose bushes, picking the - choicest blooms, talking a little on many things, silent at times, but - both happy in each other’s companionship. At last Mr. Robles looked at his - watch. The hour of parting had come. - </p> - <p> - Merle had deftly tied the roses in a bunch, and now she placed them in his - hands. - </p> - <p> - “A bouquet from me—from your little friend Merle,” she murmured, - with a wistful attempt at a smile. - </p> - <p> - “From my dear little friend, Merle,” he replied, gravely repeating her - words as he looked down into her upraised face. It was a beautiful face, - in its fresh youthfulness, its eager joy of living, the sublime - unconsciousness of self that reveals the spotless soul. For an instant - their eyes met. - </p> - <p> - During that brief spell Robles’ whole being trembled. His arms moved as if - to enfold the sweet girl to his breast. But with a mighty effort he - controlled himself, and he simply kissed her on the brow, just as he had - done to Grace in the cosy corner. - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, Merle, my dear,” he murmured as he turned away with a - final wave of his hand. - </p> - <p> - In a moment he was gone from her view. But the girl’s gaze remained fixed—still - directed down the avenue of trees along which the figure of her life-long - friend had disappeared. There was a look of dazed wonderment in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, can it be so—could it be so?” she faltered, as she raised a - hand to hold back the tears. - </p> - <p> - An hour later Robles was in the little Mexican churchyard, scattering the - rose blooms gathered by his daughter Merle on the graves of the dead - relatives whose names she would never know as such. Already there were the - flowers that Tia Teresa had that morning brought—a garland of white - arum lilies around the cross that marked the sleeping place of Rosetta, - wreaths of rich red carnations on the tombstone inscribed with the - father’s and the mother’s names. - </p> - <p> - And now on the turf beneath the memorials Don Manuel, with lingering - fingers, dropped the roses here and there, as if to rest with their beauty - and their fragrance on the forms of his beloved dead. The last bloom - fluttered to the ground. Then, standing erect, hands upraised, no words - uttered, but with the unspoken words none the less reverberating through - his very soul, he vowed once again the vendetta which he had sworn on the - identical spot thirty long years before. - </p> - <p> - When he turned to leave the tiny hamlet of the dead, a wonderful - transformation had come over his countenance. The placid calm was gone; - the fierce fire of implacable hatred and unswervable resolve burned in his - eyes. He had bidden adieu to all the softer things in this life. His sole - concern now was with the enemy whom he had marked down for death that - night. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXV—At Comanche Point - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>EN THURSTON, - during the afternoon, seated in his big armchair, had first nodded over a - newspaper and then dropped off to sleep. He was awakened by a touch on the - shoulder—rudely awakened, for he jumped to his feet, and in a dazed - way glared at the disturber. - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me,” apologized Leach Sharkey, “but I want to remind you that this - is the afternoon when we are to meet that old Portugee I told you about.” - </p> - <p> - “I need no reminder,” was the gruff reply. “I am ready to start when you - are. By the way, what’s the fellow’s name?” - </p> - <p> - “José, he said. He claims to know every nook and corner in the range. Has - lived in the mountains for many years; keeps goats and bees, and shoots a - mountain lion occasionally, earning the bounty as well as getting the - skin.” - </p> - <p> - “Shoots,” echoed Thurston, somewhat nervously. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that was in his younger days mostly, I fancy. Today he is a tottering - old man who couldn’t hold a rifle straight if he tried. But he’s well - acquainted with the mountains, that’s the main thing. He tells me he has - known where Dick Willoughby is hiding since the very day after he broke - jail.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why didn’t he come to me?” - </p> - <p> - “Because he knew nothing about the reward. But at our very first chance - meeting among the hills I very soon made five thousand dollars look mighty - good to him. By gad, you should have seen his eyes pop and his hands - tremble.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a fortune for such a man.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s what got him. He has been supplying Willoughby with goats’ milk, - but is paid only two bits a quart. So he grabbed at my bait like a hungry - coyote. You have the money ready, I suppose? Treasury bills—that’s - what he stipulated for, because he’s too frail to hump a sack of gold - around.” - </p> - <p> - “The money is in that wallet on my desk. You had better carry it.” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey stepped across the room and shoved a fat leather wallet into the - breast pocket of his coat. - </p> - <p> - “So frail, is he?” Thurston went on, musingly. “Well, I needn’t take a - gun.” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey smiled. He knew Ben Thurston’s timidity in even handling a - revolver, and the man’s abject reliance on his armed bodyguard. - </p> - <p> - “Not the slightest necessity,” assented the sleuth. “I’ve always got my - brace of bulldogs ready;” and the professional gunman, touching the broad - leather belt to which his holsters were attached, grinned complacently. - </p> - <p> - “And no danger to be feared from Willoughby himself, you said?” - </p> - <p> - “None whatever. In fact, he don’t have a gun, José declares. So he only - sneaks out after dark for a constitutional. The old fellow will take us to - the spot where we can grab him by the neck.” - </p> - <p> - “That sounds like business,” replied Thurston, rubbing his hands. “And - shoot him down, Sharkey, if he runs.” - </p> - <p> - “He won’t give us the slip this time—you can bet dollars to - doughnuts on that. But of course he’s got to have the chance of hands-up - before I fire. Killing is killing, and I prefer the handcuffs. There is - really less trouble in the long run.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, perhaps I, too, would prefer to see him hanged,” murmured Thurston, - with gloating satisfaction. “But don’t forget that we must get him this - afternoon, dead or alive. I’m sick of this life of watching and waiting.” - </p> - <p> - “The end’s in sight at last.” - </p> - <p> - “Then we’ll go back East—after I have had my revenge. It will be - sweeter to me after all the trouble we’ve encountered. And by God, we’ll - drag that Farnsworth girl, too, through the mire. Hell to all of them! - I’ve never had anyone but enemies around me here.” - </p> - <p> - While speaking, Thurston reached for his overcoat thrown across the back - of a chair. - </p> - <p> - “All right, we’ll start,” said Sharkey. “I’ll go and get the horses - ready.” - </p> - <p> - It was about half past three o’clock when the riders reached the base of - the mountain barrier not far from the entrance to Tejon Pass. - </p> - <p> - “We’ve got to make it on foot now,” remarked Sharkey, as he swung himself - from the saddle. “I’ll tether the horses to this manzanita.” Thurston - dismounted, and while his companion led the animals under the trees, he - gazed aloft at the precipice beetling in front of them. - </p> - <p> - “Damn it, I wish you had chosen any other place than Comanche Point,” he - exclaimed irritably. - </p> - <p> - “We had to come to the spot where we can find our man,” replied Sharkey - complacently. “It is on the ridge above that Willoughby has his place of - hiding. Come along, we have a good stiff climb before us.” - </p> - <p> - He led the way up the first slope of the winding trail and Ben Thurston - followed, reluctantly now, half doubting the wisdom of his having left his - home for such an adventure. - </p> - <p> - Meanwhile there had been two other riders on the range that afternoon, - mounted on little hill ponies. The one man was blindfolded; the other rode - in advance and guided the second pony by a leading rein. It had been the - usual experience to which Dick Willoughby had now become accustomed—hour - after hour along winding, maze-like trails. At last the call had come to - dismount, and the bandage had been removed from Dick’s eyes. He saw that - he was in a little box-like nook in the mountains. - </p> - <p> - “You will remain here,” said Pierre Luzon, “until I whistle for you—you - know my signal. Zen you will lead ze ponies along zis path. When you come - to me, I will put you on ze road for home, and we will say good-bye.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose I may smoke,” laughed Dick, philosophically. The day of - surprises had left him dulled to any further wonderment. - </p> - <p> - “Sure, smoke,” replied Pierre. “But remember ze forest regulations,” he - added with a chuckle, “and do not set ze brush on fire.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m no green tenderfoot,” laughed - </p> - <p> - Willoughby, as he drew his briar-root from his pocket. “And it’s quite a - balmy afternoon for October.” - </p> - <p> - He sat down and propped his back against a moss-grown rock. - </p> - <p> - “You must not stir from here,” continued Pierre. “Remember I have to find - you again.” - </p> - <p> - “Guess I’ve learned to obey orders. I’m quite comfortable where I am.” And - Dick started contentedly smoking. - </p> - <p> - Pierre, following the little path to which he had drawn Dick’s attention, - pushed through the brushwood and disappeared. - </p> - <p> - Just ten minutes later Pierre Luzon stood on Comanche Point and gazed down - the trail leading up from the pass below. - </p> - <p> - “Zey are coming, zey are coming!” he exclaimed eagerly to himself, with - finger outpointed in the direction of the two climbers on foot half way up - the ascent. Then he slipped back into the shadow of a clump of stunted - pines that grew close to the cliff. - </p> - <p> - Fifteen minutes or so passed. Then the heads of Ben Thurston and Leach - Sharkey showed above the final steep ascent that led directly on to the - projecting spur known as Comanche Point. Thurston was breathing hard after - the difficult climb. - </p> - <p> - “Here we are at last,” remarked Sharkey cheerfully, as he glanced around. - </p> - <p> - Even as he spoke, a tottering figure came forth from among the pines. A - few minutes before, Pierre Luzon had been erect and vigorous and nimble on - his feet, but now he seemed to be indeed a frail and bowed old man. - </p> - <p> - “I have come,” he said, as he approached the figures on the cliff. - </p> - <p> - “Hands up, then,” cried the sleuth, half laughing. “You remember, I said I - would search you for a gun.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no gun,” Pierre answered, as he halted and elevated his arms. - </p> - <p> - Sharkey advanced and, without taking the trouble to draw either of his own - weapons, ran his fingers with the quick touch of experience over the old - man’s clothes. - </p> - <p> - “I knew you were on the square, José,” said the bodyguard, quickly - satisfied. “Well, I’ve brought the mazuma.” - </p> - <p> - He drew from his pocket the fat wallet, opening it for a moment to display - the wads of greenbacks. Then he put it back again. - </p> - <p> - “Now where is our man?” - </p> - <p> - “He is down here, just a little distance,” replied Pierre, in a cautious - whisper. “I am not strong enough to hold him. But you come. Ze boss, he - can remain here for ze present.” - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston had turned away and was looking down into the valley. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll be back in a short time,” called out Sharkey. - </p> - <p> - But Thurston, if he had heard, made no reply. - </p> - <p> - “Now show the way, old fellow,” continued the sleuth, addressing his - guide. - </p> - <p> - A moment later Ben Thurston was alone. - </p> - <p> - Alone on Comanche Point—gazing over the broad sweep of lands that - had been his princely heritage, but which he had now lost forever! The - valley lay beneath him, bathed in the mellow evening sunshine. But his - eyes were riveted on a single spot. And what a transformation scene for - the erstwhile cattle king—this new city with its checkerboard of - streets and all around it new homes amid plots of young fruit trees and - meadows of alfalfa! - </p> - <p> - The whole picture was one of fascinating beauty—the city itself the - finishing touch that gave it human interest. But in Ben Thurston’s soul - there was nothing but bitterness and disgust. He had kept on complaining - that he had been unscrupulously plundered by the Los Angeles syndicate, - and with the realization now of what enterprise and enlightened progress - could achieve, he began to feel that he had been mercilessly stripped of - what was rightfully his. Greed and envy and vain regrets were all - commingled in his surge of envenomed thoughts. But avarice predominated. - </p> - <p> - “Good God, to think I parted with the rancho at a beggarly acreage price, - when I might have been selling town lots today. There will be a dozen - other towns springing up to follow this one.” - </p> - <p> - In his agony he groaned aloud and covered his eyes with his hands to shut - out the hateful sight. - </p> - <p> - Just at that moment the sound of a twig crackling underfoot smote his ear. - He turned round; into his face stole an ashen look of terror as he watched - an approaching figure wrapped in a Spanish cloak and crowned by a - broad-brimmed sombrero. His haggard eyes asked: “Is it man or ghost?” He - would have screamed aloud, but found himself voiceless from fear. - </p> - <p> - At last the figure stood before him with proudly folded arms. - </p> - <p> - “The White Wolf!” gasped Thurston, in a faint whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Don Manuel de Valencia—the White Wolf, as you choose to call - him. And now at last, Ben Thurston, we meet face to face, and alone—after - thirty long years, and without a woman’s tears this time to save you!” - </p> - <p> - Ben Thurston sank to the ground, a huddled heap, trembling in every limb. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVI—-Outwitted - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>IERRE LUZON led - Leach Sharkey along the trail. Beyond Comanche Point it dipped again owing - to the contour of the mountain, then at a distance of about fifty yards, - took a sharp turn round an abrupt face of rock. - </p> - <p> - “Where the hell are you taking me?” asked the sleuth, as they approached - this bend. - </p> - <p> - “Only a little further,” replied the guide, in a feeble quavering voice as - he glanced over his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - The men were only a few paces apart. In the shadow cast by the cliff, - Pierre’s pallid face with its stubbly white beard looked like that of a - veritable ancient, and his bent form and tottering steps completed the - picture. The sleuth smiled at his momentary discomposure. - </p> - <p> - Around the turn, however, Pierre grabbed at a revolver lying ready to his - hand on a ledge of rock, and when Sharkey followed, it was to find a hale - and stalwart man, erect, alert, with the flash of conscious power in his - eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Hands up!” cried Pierre, in a voice of stern command. Leach Sharkey was - standing three short steps away and was looking now into the muzzle of a - big automatic pistol. Over his countenance there stole a sickly smile. But - he knew the rules of the game too well to attempt any resistance. His - hands went slowly above his head until both arms were fully extended. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve got the drop on me all right, José,” he murmured, in self-apology. - </p> - <p> - “Face the rock,” came the next curt order—the very tone was - reminiscent of old bandit days. - </p> - <p> - Sharkey obeyed in silence, and in a trice both his guns were withdrawn - from their holsters and flung among the brushwood. - </p> - <p> - “You go ahead now,” said Pierre, stepping aside to let the other pass. - “You can drop your hands, but if you cry out or attempt to run, zen you - are one dead man.” - </p> - <p> - The discomfited sleuth meekly complied, although there was now a black - scowl on his face as he stepped on ahead. In all his professional career, - Leach Sharkey had never before fallen so ignominiously into a trap like - this. - </p> - <p> - Not a word was spoken while a distance of some two hundred yards was being - traversed. Then Pierre called out the one word: “Halt!” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey did not dare even to look round. He stood still as a piece of - statuary. - </p> - <p> - “You sit on zat stone over zere,” continued Pierre, “and do not rise until - I give you permission. Now we will proceed to business.” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey sat down as ordered. - </p> - <p> - “Hell, you can have your five thousand dollars right enough,” he said, - pulling the wallet from his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “No, my friend. I did not bring you here to rob you. I am out on parole, - and I never break my word. I am Pierre Luzon!” He spoke the name with - triumphant pride. - </p> - <p> - “Good God!” exclaimed Sharkey, in dumfounded surprise. “You belonged to - the White Wolf’s gang?” - </p> - <p> - “I belong now to ze gang. Ze White Wolf is alive!” - </p> - <p> - Leach Sharkey had looked sick before, but a ghastly grey pallor came into - his face now. - </p> - <p> - “Then he has got hold of Ben Thurston—at last?” he faltered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, at last,” replied Pierre, with a grim smile of joy. “Don Manuel and - Ben Thurston are alone on Comanche Point just now. Zey will settle old - scores—zat is zeir affair. Now, I attend to my affair.” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey looked up enquiringly, but said no more. - </p> - <p> - “Leach Sharkey,” continued the old Frenchman, “you are one strong man. You - will now take ze handcuffs from your pocket—I know you carry zem—and - drop zem over your shoulder. Zere, zat is right. I am glad you obey wizout - giving me any further trouble. Now, you will hold out your hands, behind - your back—you know exactly how.” - </p> - <p> - Yes, Leach Sharkey knew exactly how. And he also knew what the business - end of a big revolver meant, with the forefinger of a daring bandit like - Pierre Luzon on the trigger. He was handcuffed and helpless right enough - in very short order. For the first time in his life the man who had so - often slipped the bracelets on others, found the bracelets around his own - wrists. - </p> - <p> - “Next I want ze key of ze handcuffs,” Pierre resumed. “Which pocket, - please?” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey, with a downward thrust of his chin, indicated the waistcoat - pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Zank you,” said Pierre, as he thrust in his fingers and produced the key. - “Now, we will throw zis zing away”—as he spoke it went whizzing - through the air—“and when you get home to ze rancho, ze blacksmith - zere will set you free.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I’m going home, am I?” said the sleuth, considerably reassured. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Pierre Luzon no longer rob or kill or break ze law. He keep his word - of honor always. And I promised to bring Dick Willoughby to you tonight. - Now I shall be true to zat promise, too.” - </p> - <p> - And through his teeth he blew a shrill whistle. - </p> - <p> - At the sound Dick Willoughby started up, and shook the ashes from his - pipe. Following Pierre’s instructions, he led the two ponies along the - little trail through the chaparral. Within five minutes he emerged on a - broader trail, right at the spot where the Frenchman was standing. - </p> - <p> - “Hello, Pierre!” Then Dick’s eyes fell on Leach Sharkey, and at the very - first glance he saw the shackled hands. “But what’s the meaning of all - this?” he asked in bewildered surprise. - </p> - <p> - “It means zat you will take zis man down ze mountains. He came to arrest - you, but you can tell him now zat you are one free man. You can show him - ze paper which proves it was not you, but Don Manuel, who is responsible - for ze death of young Thurston.” - </p> - <p> - “Great Caesar!” muttered the sleuth, “I thought that from the first, but - the old fool would not listen to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Sharkey,” said Dick, “you and I have no quarrel. What Pierre says is - true—I have a sworn affidavit in my pocket, fixing the - responsibility for that unhappy affair where it belongs.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe you, Mr. Willoughby,” replied the sleuth. “I’m glad you are - innocent, but I was only doing my duty in trying to arrest the man charged - with the crime.” - </p> - <p> - “I understand all that. I bear you no ill will.” - </p> - <p> - “And I’d shake hands if it were not for these damned bracelets,” continued - Sharkey. - </p> - <p> - “Pierre, there is no need of handcuffs,” said Dick, turning to the - Frenchman. “Set him free. We will go peaceably home together.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” replied Pierre, determinedly. “Leach Sharkey, he is one giant in - strength. He will go home as he is. Besides, I have trown ze key away.” - And he laughed aloud. - </p> - <p> - Sharkey nodded in helpless admission of his sorry plight. - </p> - <p> - “Too bad,” murmured Dick. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” continued Pierre, “zere is no time to be lost. We will help zis - man onto your pony, and you will ride my pony and hold ze leading rein.” - </p> - <p> - “But he can’t ride with his hands behind his back like that,” objected - Dick. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, he can,” grinned Pierre. “Ze good horseman ride wid his knees, - and most of ze road you can be by his side and hold him on. And it is ze - only way, for ze key, as I have said, is gone.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose we’ve got to accept the situation,” said Dick, with a glance at - Sharkey’s lugubrious countenance. The man of strength was obviously - crestfallen at his almost ridiculous plight of powerlessness. - </p> - <p> - Pierre resumed his instructions. “You will not go back to Comanche Point, - but will take ze mule trail down into ze valley. You know it, Mr. - Willoughby—it is about one mile furzer on.” - </p> - <p> - “I know it,” replied Dick. - </p> - <p> - “You will leave Mr. Sharkey at the rancho and zen ride to ze place where - your friends are waiting for you. Now, zat is all. I must go. We have - already said our <i>adios</i>, my dear young friend.” Dick grasped the - proffered hand and warmly pressed it. - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye, Pierre. I can never thank you enough for all you have done for - me. Good-bye.” Leach Sharkey was assisted into the saddle, and the - horsemen started on their way. - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye,” shouted back Dick Willoughby, yet once again. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Adios!</i>” - </p> - <p> - And as the two figures disappeared around a bend, the Frenchman uttered a - deep sigh. “A splendid young fellow! I wonder shall we ever meet again!”—this - was the thought in his mind as for just a moment he stood in an attitude - of deep dejection. - </p> - <p> - Then swinging around, he started back at a run for Comanche Point. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVII—The Dawn of Comprehension - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>LL through the - afternoon at La Siesta, Merle was in a meditative mood. After luncheon - Mrs. Darlington had returned to her letter-writing and her book-keeping. - Munson and Grace had departed for a walk through the pine woods, after - vain but not too strenuous endeavors to get Merle to accompany them. Left - to her own resources she had retired to the drawing room, had tried to - interest herself at the piano, but after a little while had given up the - attempt; and, coiled in a big chair, had surrendered herself to a “big - think,” as she mentally termed it. - </p> - <p> - In that momentary searching of the eyes between her and Mr. Robles just - before their parting in the rose garden, there had come a flash of - revelation to her soul. She had divined a yearning in his gaze that was - surely more than the affection of an old and devoted friend. There was - passionate tenderness that belied the gentle yet almost perfunctory kiss - on the brow that he had finally bestowed at parting. Nor had she failed to - notice the restraint which the strong man had imposed upon himself. And - strangely enough, her own momentary impulse had been to throw her arms - around his neck and kiss him, just as a fond daughter might have kissed a - father at such an emotional moment—on the eve of a long journey, the - whither unrevealed, the return all so uncertain. - </p> - <p> - She recalled, too, their previous conversation while she was gathering the - roses—his words of kindly wisdom, his little bits of advice that now - seemed to be weighted by more than mere friendly interest in her future - happiness. Then her mind traveled back slowly, step by step, all the way - to childhood days—a long vista marked by his comings and his goings, - his prolonged absences, his unexpected but always welcome reappearances, - his numberless acts of thoughtful kindness. Once she had been seriously - ill, when a little girl, and the memory of that illness had ever been the - memory of his face hovering over her cot, night and day, till the crisis - had been passed and she had been on the way to assured convalescence. - </p> - <p> - There had always been an air of mystery about Mr. Robles, but she had - never sought to penetrate it, instinctively recognizing that there had - been some great sorrow in his life, and almost unconsciously accepting the - affectionate regard he had lavished on Grace and herself as some sort of - consolation for him in his loneliness. She knew that Grace was only her - sister in name, but none the less Grace was to her a real sister, just as - Mrs. Darlington was a real mother—the only mother she had ever - known. Weaving together now the threads of memory, she became conscious of - the mystery in her own life. There was assuredly some fuller story than - the story she had been told in the past and had always tacitly accepted—that - her parents had been neighbors and dear friends of Mrs. Darlington in the - long ago, and when they had died, the baby girl left behind had been - bequeathed to her motherly care. - </p> - <p> - At this stage in her ruminations Merle sat bolt upright in her chair. The - shadows of evening were beginning to close around her, but the dawn of - revelation was in her heart. - </p> - <p> - Would Mrs. Darlington still be alone in her boudoir? Merle answered the - unspoken thought by stealing from the room. - </p> - <p> - Yes, Mrs. Darlington was at her writing table, lighted now by candles on - each side which, covered by little red shades, only dimly illuminated the - apartment. Merle flitted in without her coming being observed. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington was no longer writing—her elbows were resting on the - table and both hands were covering her eyes in an attitude of deep - thought, perhaps of sleep, as Merle for a moment imagined when she had - noiselessly gained her side. - </p> - <p> - “Mother dear,” she said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “You here, my child?” exclaimed Mrs. Darlington. There was no trace of - slumber in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and I want to have a little talk with you—all alone,” said - Merle, as she dropped into a chair, the very chair which Mr. Robles had - previously occupied. - </p> - <p> - The look of vague sadness and anxiety in Mrs. Darlington’s face deepened. - </p> - <p> - “What about, dear?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - Merle’s mind had been made up, and she came to the issue with point-blank - abruptness. - </p> - <p> - “Is Mr. Robles my father?” - </p> - <p> - The startled look on the other’s face was almost in itself an admission of - the truth—Mrs. Darlington had been caught off her guard. But she - made a desperate attempt to parry the question. - </p> - <p> - “What makes you fancy such a thing?” she faltered. - </p> - <p> - “Because there is certainty in my heart,” replied - </p> - <p> - Merle bravely. “It came to me first when he bade me good-bye in the - garden. And now I see it in your face.” - </p> - <p> - The young girl dropped on her knees, and, an arm around her mother’s - waist, gazed up imploringly. - </p> - <p> - Eyes met eyes. Falsehood was impossible in either case. Mrs. Darlington - stooped and folded the kneeling girl in a fond embrace. Both were weeping - now. No word had been spoken, but Merle knew that she had correctly - divined. - </p> - <p> - It was a few minutes before there was sufficient self-control for the - conversation to be resumed. But then, Merle still kneeling by her side, - Mrs. Darlington spoke: - </p> - <p> - “I had promised to keep this secret, dear,” she began, fondling the girl’s - tresses. “But you have gained your knowledge apart from me, so I cannot be - held to have betrayed my trust. Yes, Mr. Robles is your father—your - loving and devoted father. Your real name is his—Merle Robles you - should always have been called.” - </p> - <p> - “And why not?” asked Merle. “Oh, I am proud and overjoyed to think of him - as my father.” - </p> - <p> - “Because he has some important reason to have the world think otherwise. I - know you will believe me, dear Merle, when I say I do not know that - reason. He is too grand and honorable a man for me to have ever pressed - for an explanation. I just accepted you as a gift from his hands—his - child and the child of my girlhood chum, named Merle, as you know, like - yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “So, if I have solved one mystery, there is still another mystery beyond,” - murmured Merle. - </p> - <p> - She rose, seated herself, and remained silent for a moment, her hands - locked across her knees, her brows knit in thought. - </p> - <p> - “But why distress your heart over unknown things?” said Mrs. Darlington. - “As you have learned by your today’s experience, mysteries solve - themselves in due time.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” replied Merle, “but somehow I feel that this is the due time that I - should know everything—for my dear father’s sake,” she added, “not - for my own. Oh, mother, you should have seen his face of anguish just - before he parted from me this afternoon. It was revealed to me only for an - instant. But now I feel sure that something terrible is going to happen—to - him.” - </p> - <p> - She was sobbing again, as she flung her arms impulsively around Mrs. - Darlington’s neck and sat in her lap, just as if once again she had become - a little child. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, mother mine—I shall always call you mother mine, for you have - been a dear, sweet, kind mother to me ever since I can remember. But don’t - you see that today I have also found a father whom I deeply love? Nothing - must happen to him.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should anything happen to him?” - </p> - <p> - “I do not know. Where is Tia Teresa?” - </p> - <p> - The question came with startling suddenness as Merle started up with - another ray of illumination in her mind. - </p> - <p> - “I haven’t seen her since morning,” replied Mrs. Darlington. - </p> - <p> - “Nor have I,” said Merle, standing erect, wiping away the traces of her - tears, and with a few pats adjusting her rumpled hair. “That is very - strange.” - </p> - <p> - “No. I happen to know that this day, the eleventh of October, is always a - sad anniversary for Tia Teresa—the death of some dear friend who - lies buried in the little Mexican cemetery on the hill. She has always - refused to tell me the story. But early this morning she went, as usual, - to place flowers upon the grave.” - </p> - <p> - “Flowers—for a grave!” exclaimed Merle. She was thinking of the - roses she had gathered that afternoon for Mr. Robles—for her father—because - he specially wanted the most beautiful blooms. But she did not give her - thought to Mrs. Darlington. - </p> - <p> - “It is all so strange,” continued Merle. Then her air of decisiveness - returned. “I’ll go and see if Tia Teresa is in her room.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington was gravely perturbed at this persistency. Oh, if only the - mysteries of the past could be left alone, the joys of the present - accepted for themselves! Probing into trouble cannot but lead to further - trouble—that, for her, had been the secret of contentment. But she - was powerless to intervene. Merle had already departed on her mission of - enquiry. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVIII—Exit Leach Sharkey - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE ponies were - jogging down the trail, Leach Sharkey uncomfortably lurching in his saddle - when some sudden bend or dip was encountered, Dick Willoughby - good-humoredly holding him on when such emergencies rendered the service - advisable if an ignominious fall were to be avoided. There was a song of - joy in Dick’s heart—liberty was at hand; he was riding down from the - hills to join his loved one again. But there was sullen brooding in the - soul of the outwitted sleuth—growing more sullen with every mile - traversed, with every kindness rendered, with the very realization of his - own ridiculous predicament and the contrast of his companion’s - light-hearted happiness. - </p> - <p> - At last they reached the foot of the trail, leading on to the road that - crossed the plain. At the distance of a few miles the Rancho San Antonio - showed amid its clustering shade and orchard trees. - </p> - <p> - “Let us dismount for a bit,” suggested Sharkey. “I feel all in—dead - beat and tired.” - </p> - <p> - “But how will I get you on to your horse again?” replied Dick, a trifle - dubiously. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, we’ll manage that. Please help me down.” Dick sprang to the ground, - dropped the reins over his pony’s head, and soon had Leach Sharkey on <i>terra - firma</i>. - </p> - <p> - “You’re no light weight to handle,” he laughed. “By the way, Sharkey, I - forgot to ask: Where’s your boss this afternoon?” - </p> - <p> - Sharkey eyed Dick curiously. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t know?” - </p> - <p> - “Why should I know? It’s quite a time since I met the gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - “You are aware who Pierre Luzon is?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly. Pierre has come to be quite a friend of mine. He’s a good - fellow all right.” There was a moment’s pause. Dick was rolling a - cigarette, Sharkey furtively watching every expression on his face. - </p> - <p> - “Well, the Frenchie played me a dirty trick when he threw that key away,” - remarked the sleuth, rattling, the handcuffs behind his back. - </p> - <p> - “I guess Pierre was resolved to take no chances,” replied Dick, grinning - through the tobacco smoke as he surveyed the helpless bodyguard. “He only - needed a pair of hobbles to complete the job.” - </p> - <p> - A muttered curse came from Sharkey’s lips—but this was an aside. For - Dick he had an insinuating smile. - </p> - <p> - “You might get these blamed handcuffs off all right, Willoughby. Look at - that big boulder there. If I set my hands across it, you might hammer - through the chain. Or if you have a pistol, that might do the trick.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I’ve got no pistol,” Dick replied. - </p> - <p> - He did not notice the gleam of satisfaction in Sharkey’s eyes—the - wolfish smile at the corners of his wolf-like teeth. At the moment he was - looking around for a convenient stone that might serve as a hammer. - </p> - <p> - “But I think I might break that chain all right with this,” he went on, as - he stooped and picked up a heavy, sharp-edged fragment of granite from the - rock-strewn ground. “Come along, then. Set your wrists just here. At - least, we can try.” - </p> - <p> - The trial succeeded—the slender steel strain stretched across the - boulder soon yielded to the succession of battering blows. - </p> - <p> - Sharkey flung his great big brawny arms aloft. He was still wearing the - bracelets, but his hands were free. - </p> - <p> - “Feels better, don’t it?” said Dick, with a sympathetic smile. - </p> - <p> - “A damned sight better,” roared the sleuth, as he turned quickly round. - “Now, young man, you are my prisoner. I arrest you for jail-breaking. - There’s my star. I don’t say hands up, for I know you haven’t a gun.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, Sharkey opened his coat so that the official badge might be - displayed. - </p> - <p> - Dick in his amazement stepped back, just one pace. Sharkey advanced, his - high hands outstretched. - </p> - <p> - “Make no trouble, now. You know I am only doing my duty.” - </p> - <p> - “Duty be hanged,” cried Dick, as with a swift uppercut he caught his - would-be captor on the jaw. Sharkey staggered, and Dick, with a right-arm - swing, banged him on the temple, bowling him over like a ninepin. - </p> - <p> - Sharkey was soon on his hands and knees; then dazed and tottering, he got - onto his feet again. But Dick was watchfully waiting, and with sharp jabs, - right and left, sent him down once more. The sleuth lay motionless now. - </p> - <p> - Like a flash Dick grabbed the riata hanging from the saddle-horn of his - pony, and without a moment’s loss of time had its coils around the arms - and chest of the prostrate man, roping him like a thrown steer with all - the skill of the trained cowboy. In a brief minute the knots were tied, - and with the final clove-hitch the fallen Samson was turned over on his - back. Sharkey’s eyes opened, glaring dully at his conqueror. - </p> - <p> - “You contemptible hound!” exclaimed Dick, as he tossed the loose end of - the lariat from him. “By God, I’ve seen a few low-down things done in my - lifetime, but this is certainly the limit. I suppose you would have - betrayed me for the sake of the reward, even though you know now for - certain that I was wrongfully arrested at the start. You damned Judas! You - deserve to be hanged like a horse-thief, Leach Sharkey—that’s about - your proper finish.” - </p> - <p> - And Dick in his righteous indignation glanced around as if in search of a - convenient tree for the operation. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll give no further trouble,” mumbled Sharkey. - </p> - <p> - “It will be my particular care that you don’t,” replied Dick. “Get up, you - hulking brute.” And grabbing the coils of the riata, he fairly lifted - Sharkey to his feet. - </p> - <p> - “Now, I wouldn’t shame the pony by putting you on his back again. Follow - me.” - </p> - <p> - Picking up the free end of the rope, and gathering the leading rein of - Sharkey’s horse into the same hand, Willoughby vaulted into his saddle. - </p> - <p> - “Come along,” he called out, turning round as the riata came taut. And - thus, a dozen paces behind, the sleuth, discomfited again a second time - that day, and humiliated worse than ever, followed perforce in his - victor’s trail. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps half a mile of the open road was thus traversed, Dick speaking not - another word, but looking round occasionally and giving an energetic yank - at the rope whenever there was evidence of laggard steps. Sharkey stumbled - along, his chin buried in his breast, his eyes half-closed to conceal - their dumb, vicious glare of concentrated but impotent fury. - </p> - <p> - They had now reached a gate; Dick dismounted and threw it open, pointing - the way for Sharkey to take. - </p> - <p> - “It’s about five miles to the rancho,” he said. “I don’t know how you’ll - get through the other gates, but I reckon you can crawl under them, like - the snake you’ve proved yourself to be. Now, off you go,” and with the - words he looped the loose end of the riata around the victim’s shoulders. - “That’s a better necktie than you deserve, Leach Sharkey. If it was any - one but myself, you would be helped to a start by a few vigorous kicks - behind.” - </p> - <p> - The sleuth shambled through the gateway, with shamed, averted face. With a - click the gate was closed. For just a few minutes Dick watched the figure - moving away through the now gathering dusk. Then he laid a hand on his - saddle-horn. - </p> - <p> - “I hope it’s the last I’ll see of that animal,” he murmured to himself, as - he sprang lightly into the saddle. And at a canter he started along the - road, the led pony, after a few heel-kicks as if in joy at being relieved - of its burden, soon dropping into the swinging stride. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIX—The Fight on the Cliff - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>OR a few moments - Don Manuel contemplated the cowering figure of Ben Thurston in - contemptuous silence. His end was accomplished; his enemy was in his - power; like the cat with the mouse just a few inches from its paw, he - could strike at any moment. He spoke now with measured calm. - </p> - <p> - “Do you remember what day this is? The eleventh of October.” - </p> - <p> - He paused for a reply. Thurston’s lips were parted but remained dumb. Don - Manuel resumed: - </p> - <p> - “Thirty years ago this very night—here at this very spot, you - brutally killed my poor little sister, Rosetta.” - </p> - <p> - Thurston shrank back. His lips moved, but no sound came. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, attempt no denial,” continued Don Manuel, for the moment clenching a - menacing fist over him. “You cannot forget the tell-tale button which you - snatched from my hand to hide the proof. Nor have I forgotten the lash of - your quirt that drew blood from my cheek”—and he wiped his face with - the tips of his fingers as if to rub away the memory of the deadly insult—“the - very day on which I buried my dear father and mother,” he added, in a - voice vibrant with emotion. - </p> - <p> - He bowed his head; there was another brief period of silence. Then he - recovered himself and went on: - </p> - <p> - “The deaths of my beloved parents are just as much on your head, Ben - Thurston, as the death of the guileless, innocent, young girl whom you - betrayed, and then with coward hands pushed over this cliff, mangling her - body on the rocks below. My vengeance has been slow in coming, but after - all, I am glad of the delay. For all through these years you have not only - suffered the agony of constant fear, but I have lived to see you landless, - bereft of the broad rich acres which belonged to my father and were never - rightfully yours.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s not so—my claim was established in the law courts.” Thurston - managed to articulate the words. The sound of his voice seemed to restore - some little measure of courage, for he sat up, and leaning an elbow on a - rock, adjusted himself in a more comfortable position. But he did not seek - to gain his feet—the bandit’s figure still towered over him. - </p> - <p> - “Law courts—your American law courts!” exclaimed Don Manuel, with - ineffable scorn. “You know you bribed the judge who gave the decision. - Dare you deny it?” - </p> - <p> - Thurston ventured no denial—his dropped jaw proclaimed his - consciousness of guilt. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing was too base for you,” Don Manuel proceeded. “You robbed, - despoiled, destroyed my home. But now at last your hour has come. I have - waited patiently for this hour. On many an occasion, Ben Thurston, I could - have shot you dead from a distance. But I have waited—waited—waited - for the time when you would know that it was I, the White Wolf, who was - sending you to your doom just as I have already sent your ruffian son to - his.” - </p> - <p> - “So it was really you—who murdered my boy?” stammered Thurston. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t call it murder—it was righteous retribution for both him and - you. Oh, I can tell you something tonight, for a secret does not pass from - a dead man’s lips.” - </p> - <p> - The victim so confidently doomed, shuddered. Don Manuel continued: - </p> - <p> - “Merle Farnsworth is my daughter; your vile and debauched son dared to - insult her, and so he died—rightly died. Yes, at my hands—I - take full responsibility. And I am glad to tell you this before you follow - him out of the world. Tonight, Ben Thurston, you go over this cliff—you - die the death you gave to my sister.” - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, Don Manuel cast loose his Spanish cloak, and dropped both it - and his sombrero to the ground. - </p> - <p> - Thurston at last staggered to his feet. - </p> - <p> - “So get ready now to fight for your life,” Don Manuel resumed, folding his - arms across his breast as he surveyed his victim. - </p> - <p> - “But I am unarmed,” cried Thurston, pointing to the revolver at the - other’s belt. His outstretched hand trembled, his voice was a terrified - shriek. - </p> - <p> - “Then I, too, shall be unarmed,” replied Don Manuel, as he unbuckled his - belt and tossed it lightly from him. “Come along, then—it is man to - man with naked hands.” His tone now was one of concentrated passion and - hate, and he advanced with arms extended for an enfolding embrace. - </p> - <p> - Now did Ben Thurston realize that his only chance for life lay in his - superior weight, possibly his superior strength. At the thought, craven - fear changed of a sudden to the courage of desperation, and like a wild - cat he leaped at the throat of his adversary. - </p> - <p> - Then began a terrible struggle—two strong men writhing in each - other’s grip like savage beasts. Soon their clothes were torn, their - bodies begrimed with sweat and mud, their faces and naked arms bespattered - with blood, for Ben Thurston’s nose had been broken in one of the first - falls. Thurston, besides his extra pounds, had also the advantage of being - younger by a few years. But Don Manuel was in better physical condition - and his muscles were like bands of steel. So it was pretty much of a level - match in this grim fight to the death. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0305.jpg" alt="0305 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0305.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - As they tugged at each other, as each attempted to bear the other down or - trip and throw him, as at times, each tried in their locked embrace to - crush in his adversary’s ribs and squeeze the last breath out of his body, - as they milled round and round, swayed and fell and rolled over and then - for a moment regained a kneeling or an upright position—both men - realized that it was the one who could last the longest with whom the - mastery would rest. - </p> - <p> - Pierre Luzon, running up the trail, came to the edge of the open space - where the desperate contest was in progress. But the onlooker did not - attempt to interfere—he had had his orders; he just crouched and - watched the swaying, writhing figures. - </p> - <p> - For an hour or more the fight proceeded, at times fast and furious, with - breathing spells to follow, during which grips were tenaciously - maintained. Points of advantage alternated now to the one side, now to the - other, but after each succeeding tussle both combatants were exhausted - without victory being pronounced for either. Every vestige of clothing - above the belt line had long since been torn away, and they were sweating - like lathered horses. - </p> - <p> - The milling and wrestling had gradually grown weaker, and it was clear now - that the final test of endurance could not be much longer delayed. Yet - again Don Manuel renewed the attack, and had forced Thurston to his knees, - when the latter by a supreme effort raised himself again, and then by - sheer weight pressed his opponent back a pace or two. But just at this - moment Thurston’s strength seemed to give out, for he dropped down - sideways, dragging his enemy after him. - </p> - <p> - Then Pierre Luzon saw the object of the manoeuvre. Thurston had gained the - spot where Don Manuel’s discarded pistol belt was lying, and now he was - reaching out with a disengaged hand to grab the gun. - </p> - <p> - The Frenchman darted forward. - </p> - <p> - “Keep out of this,” cried Don Manuel, peremptorily, although he was - breathing hard. - </p> - <p> - “Look out! Your gun!” screamed Pierre, as he seized Thurston’s wrist in a - vice-like grip. - </p> - <p> - Just an instant too late, however, for Thurston’s fingers had already - closed round the weapon and it went off with a bang. - </p> - <p> - Pierre dropped to his knees. It was he who had received the bullet—through - one of his lungs. But he had wrested the pistol from the treacherous - villain’s grasp and now it fell, still smoking, to the ground. - </p> - <p> - The wounded man coughed a great mouthful of crimson blood on to the slab - of rock. Then he recovered himself and raised his head. Thurston and Don - Manuel, even in their weakened state, were fighting more desperately than - ever, blinded by hate to every sense of danger, and Pierre was just in - time to see them slip on some loosened stones and then, still locked in - the death clench, go rolling over the edge of the precipice. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!</i>” murmured the Frenchman. He staggered to his - feet and without waiting turned and started down the steep trail, - stumbling like a drunken man. - </p> - <p> - At the foot of the zig-zag pathway he gazed helplessly around. He would - have pushed his way through the brushwood to seek his beloved chief. Dead! - He must be dead. No one could have dropped that sheer three hundred feet - onto the cruel jagged rocks below and live. Yet, who knows? A tree might - have broken the fall—Don Manuel might still be alive. - </p> - <p> - Pierre, however, was incapable of further effort. His limbs trembled - beneath him, and again he was spitting blood. - </p> - <p> - All of a sudden he spied the two horses tethered under the manzanita tree. - He tottered toward them, untied the first one he reached, and with - difficulty pulled himself up into the saddle. - </p> - <p> - To reach Dick Willoughby and get help—that was the thought in the - reeling brain of Pierre Luzon as with a final effort, leaning forward over - the saddle, he turned his steed in the direction of Buck Ashley’s old - store, and urged it to a canter. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XL—Revelation - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ERLE paused at the - foot of the stairway leading up to one of the towers where Tia Teresa had - her room. She deliberated for a moment, consulted the tiny watch on her - wrist, then turned to retrace her footsteps. - </p> - <p> - “There will be plenty of time,” she murmured to herself. “I shall be best - able to manage Tia Teresa when I know still more than I do now.” She - repaired to her own room and put on her automobile cloak, cap, and veil. - Without telling anyone of her plan, she left the house, went to the - garage, selected a runabout that was specially her own, and was soon - speeding along the highway in the direction of the cluster of hills amid - which the little Mexican cemetery was nestled. - </p> - <p> - She had been there just once before, several years ago, and she knew that - her machine would have no difficulty in ascending the trail. Within less - than an hour, indeed, she was at her destination. - </p> - <p> - In the grey evening twilight the place looked very dismal and desolate. - The tiny adobe chapel in one corner was falling into ruins because of - disuse and neglect. A tall rank growth of weeds overran most of the - graves. But there were two that showed marks of loving attention, and - toward these Merle advanced. Here she found the fresh wreaths around the - headstones, and her own roses scattered on the turf. - </p> - <p> - “Hermana”—she read the single word on the white marble cross adorned - with spotless arum lilies. “Sister,” Merle murmured, translating the word. - </p> - <p> - Then she turned to the big gravestone close at hand, and moved the wreaths - of red carnations so that she might read the words inscribed. From these - she soon knew that this was the family burial place of the de Valencias—that - here rested the former owners of the San Antonio Rancho, the beloved - parents of two children, Manuel and Rosetta. - </p> - <p> - “Manuel,” - </p> - <p> - “Rosetta”—she repeated the names. The latter awakened no memory, but - when she filled out the former to “Don Manuel de Valencia,” she instantly - recalled the old-time bandit of whom she had heard many a tale. - </p> - <p> - “The White Wolf,” she murmured eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes. His father once owned the rancho, and that was the cause of the - deadly feud—the Vendetta of the Hills. But I thought all that was - forgotten. Yet here are the beautiful fresh flowers.” - </p> - <p> - Seating herself on a flat monument near by, Merle pondered, piecing things - together. “Sister”—the cross must mark the grave of the girl - Rosetta, and have been erected by her brother, Don Manuel. Then whose hand - had strewn the roses? Mr. Robles! In a flash she knew that Mr. Robles was - Don Manuel. - </p> - <p> - And her father, too! The further thought came with such suddenness, with - such absolute conviction of certainty, that for a moment she felt - appalled. Her father the notorious robber chief, the desperado on whose - head a price had been set, the outlaw who had defied the whole state of - California to arrest him. Somehow she felt no shame—Don Manuel de - Valencia had been a sort of heroic knight-errant in all the stories she - had heard—his hand only against the rich, his heart always for the - poor and oppressed, his attitude toward the intrusive gringos quite - justified by the sharp practice whereby he had been robbed of his - patrimonial acres. It was this very story of wrong which had been one of - the reasons that had from the first predisposed the household at La Siesta - to despise the Thurston family at the Rancho San Antonio. - </p> - <p> - Then from thinking of Don Manuel, Merle’s mind passed to Ricardo Robles—the - courteous, dignified, generous, lovable man she had known all her life, - the very man whom she had rejoiced that day to call her own father. Don - Manuel could be judged only by this standard, and her heart went out again - to Mr. Robles, whatever the name which he had formerly worn. - </p> - <p> - The shadows were closing around her, the night air bit sharply, and Merle - arose. Two or three of the rose blooms had fallen beyond the lines of - white stones that marked the graves. Merle advanced, and picking these up - gently, placed them on the breasts of the sleeping dead. Her own kith and - kin! Now she realized how she came to have brown eyes and raven tresses—the - blood of Spain was in her veins. With this thought throbbing in her heart, - she left the cemetery and hurried away for home. - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa was the only Roman Catholic at La Siesta, a devout member of - the faith of her fathers and of her childhood days with which no one - around her had ever sought to interfere. Her room was her private chapel, - a curtained recess at one end being fitted up with a crucifix, a small - altar, and a <i>prie-dieu</i>. - </p> - <p> - Here Tia Teresa was kneeling and praying, the only light in the apartment - coming from the altar candles, when Merle softly tiptoed in, still wearing - her automobile cloak. She hesitated to advance, and momentarily turned to - withdraw. But Tia Teresa had seen her, and by a gesture had bidden her to - remain. For a few moments the old duenna’s lips continued to move, then - she told another bead on her rosary, arose from her knees, crossed herself - devoutly, and with a final prostration before the crucifix, terminated her - devotional exercises. - </p> - <p> - “What brought you here, my child?” she asked, approaching Merle. - </p> - <p> - “Why are you engaged in prayer tonight?” asked Merle, answering question - with question. - </p> - <p> - “You know I often pray,” replied Tia Teresa. “You have seen me many, many - times.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but not at this hour, when you are always with my mother.” - </p> - <p> - “She will be wondering where I am. I had better go to her now.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” rejoined Merle. “I wish to speak to you. Come here, Tia Teresa; sit - down by my side, and treat me once again as the little girl of the long - ago whom you used to pet and fondle.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s very easily done,” responded Tia Teresa, with a pleased smile, - seating herself on the low sofa close to Merle. “Come to my heart, my - darling, as in the long ago.” - </p> - <p> - And the duenna drew the girl to her loving, protecting bosom. She noticed - now that Merle was trembling under the influence of some deep emotion. - </p> - <p> - “What is wrong with you, my dear?” she asked anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “I have learned many things today, Tia Teresa,” replied Merle, taking her - old nurse’s hands and softly stroking them. “First, that Mr. Robles is my - father”—the duenna started, but Merle went quietly on—“and - that he is really Don Manuel de Valencia, the famous outlaw.” - </p> - <p> - “Whoever told you that?” fairly gasped Tia Teresa. - </p> - <p> - “No one. I found everything out for myself. After I had looked into Mr. - Robles’ eyes at our parting this afternoon, I knew the truth. It was - impossible for mother to deny it, but it is not she who has told me - anything. I have just returned from the little Mexican cemetery on the - hillside where Mr. Robles, my father, had taken the flowers for which he - asked me.” - </p> - <p> - “And you saw his flowers—and my flowers, too?” faltered the duenna, - realizing now how Merle had gleaned her knowledge. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; I inferred that the wreaths were yours, and of course I knew that - the scattered roses were from my father. He is Don Manuel. But I want you - to tell me a little about Rosetta.” It was Merle now who put her arms - around Tia Teresa and drew her affectionately to her. - </p> - <p> - “You have always loved me, you know, my dear,” the girl went on coaxingly. - “Now I understand why you were so deeply attached to Mr. Robles, for you - told me once that you had nursed Don Manuel. And that is why I have been, - perhaps, just a little closer to you than Grace”—the pressure of Tia - Teresa’s arms told that Merle had correctly divined—“because I was - of the blood of your old master. But why has there been all this secrecy - toward me?” - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel’s name could not be revealed—he had been outlawed.” - </p> - <p> - “And Rosetta—tell me about Rosetta?” - </p> - <p> - “She was the real cause of the feud between Mr. Thurston and Don Manuel.” - </p> - <p> - The duenna had spoken the words before she had realized how much they - told. With unfaltering intuition Merle guessed their meaning. - </p> - <p> - “You mean to tell me that Thurston wronged Rosetta—betrayed her?” - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa nodded assent—she was too deeply agitated to speak - another word. - </p> - <p> - “And this day—the eleventh of October—the day when you - decorate her grave?” enquired Merle, in a tone and with a look that - compelled an answer. - </p> - <p> - “Is the day she was found dead on the rocks below Comanche Point,” replied - Tia Teresa. - </p> - <p> - At the same moment the duenna started to her feet. A wonderful and - terrible transition came over her usually placid countenance. Her eyes - fairly blazed with mingled fury and hatred. Her fists were clenched by her - side. Her whole frame trembled. - </p> - <p> - “Murdered by Ben Thurston!” she added, the words hissing like hot lava - from her lips. - </p> - <p> - “Murdered?” cried Merle, incredulously. She too, had risen. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, pushed over the cliff by his coward hands. His torn coat, one of the - buttons between her dead fingers, proclaimed his guilt before God and man. - But there was no justice in the land in those days—the days when the - gringos broke up our Spanish homes. Now you know everything—that was - the real reason of the Vendetta of the Hills.” - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa was calm again—it was Merle who was deeply agitated, too - deeply agitated for a moment to speak. - </p> - <p> - The duenna went on triumphantly. “But the vendetta once sworn will always - be fulfilled. Tonight at Comanche Point—” - </p> - <p> - Then she stopped short, as she saw the look of terror and horror on - Merle’s pale face. - </p> - <p> - “Tonight?” queried the young girl tremulously. “They meet tonight? Then - that is where Mr. Robles is going—that is why he bade us all that - sad good-bye? My father, oh, my dear father!” And dropping down again on - the sofa, she burst into a passion of weeping. - </p> - <p> - Tia Teresa sought to soothe her. But Merle was not to be comforted. Yet - while she sobbed she was thinking, for suddenly she rose again and dashed - away her tears. - </p> - <p> - “At what hour tonight?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “I do not know,” answered the duenna. - </p> - <p> - “Then he is in danger—perhaps at this very moment he is in danger. - Don Manuel’s life—my father’s life is worth a hundred lives of such - a man as Ben Thurston. Quick, quick, Teresa. Get your mantilla and cloak. - My runabout is in readiness. There, let me help you.” - </p> - <p> - Merle was speaking with swift insistence. - </p> - <p> - “Where are you going?” whispered Tia Teresa, as the girl’s fingers were - buttoning her cloak. - </p> - <p> - “To Comanche Point. We may not be too late to save him.” - </p> - <p> - A minute later the two women had stolen down the narrow stairway of the - tower and were speeding through the gathering darkness of the night. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLI—Beneath the Precipice - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ILLOUGHBY had - found his friends Munson and Jack Rover at Buck Ashley’s old store, - eagerly awaiting his coming, with a fine supper sizzling on the cook - stove, prepared in Jack’s finest professional cowboy style. - </p> - <p> - “We’ve got to feed you up a bit, I reckon,” grinned Jack, as he slipped - the Gargantuan slab of beef-steak from the griller on to the big hot dish - waiting for its reception. - </p> - <p> - “And some potatoes, too,” he went on, “not forgetting the fried onions - that beat all your newfangled sauces to a frazzle.” - </p> - <p> - Dick was nothing loth to fall to. He had been too excited to do more than - taste the midday meal that Pierre Luzon had prepared for him in the - cavern. It had been a long hard day, and now he was hungry as a wolf. In - ordinary circumstances he had no objection to fried onions, but, with - delicate regard for possible contingencies, he left to the others a - monopoly over this item in the bill-of-fare. - </p> - <p> - There were so many things to talk about that it was a difficult matter to - know where to begin. But at the close of the meal Jack Rover solved the - question by sweeping the supper things from the table, and emptying - thereon the contents of one of the bags of gold. - </p> - <p> - “Good old Guadalupe!” exclaimed the delighted cowboy, as he patted the - nuggets with a loving hand. “I always told you that the ancient squaw had - a real gold mine. I guess we’ll be able to stake out our claims tomorrow, - eh, Dick, my boy?” - </p> - <p> - “I’m afraid not,” smiled Willoughby. “The fact is that, although I helped - to wash out that gold, I have not the faintest idea where the riffle is up - among the hills.” - </p> - <p> - Jack’s face fell. There was a moment of disappointed silence, and just - then there came the sound of a faint tapping at the outer door. - </p> - <p> - “What’s that?” asked Munson. The faces of all three showed that they had - heard simultaneously. - </p> - <p> - Dick rose, crossed over, and threw the door wide open. - </p> - <p> - “My God, who’s this?” he asked, as he stooped over the figure lying prone - across the steps. “Pierre, Pierre!” he added, as he turned over the face. - “It’s Pierre Luzon, boys, and desperately wounded!” - </p> - <p> - The others were pressed together in the doorway. - </p> - <p> - “Looks as if he had crawled here on his hands and knees,” remarked Munson. - </p> - <p> - “There’s his horse out among the chaparral,” exclaimed Jack, pointing to - the shadowy form of the animal from which the wounded man had obviously - tumbled. - </p> - <p> - “Stand clear,” cried Dick, gathering up Pierre in his arms. “He has - fainted, but is still alive.” - </p> - <p> - And Dick, carrying the senseless form, passed into the bedroom beyond the - living room, and there laid poor old Pierre on the very cot which he had - occupied once before—on the eventful night when Tom Baker had - brought the paroled convict from San Quentin. - </p> - <p> - A few drops of whisky brought the wounded man back to consciousness. Dick - leaned over him and caught the faintly whispered words. Piérre was - speaking in the French of his childhood days. - </p> - <p> - “He is dead—he is dead! At last Rosetta is avenged!” - </p> - <p> - Dick motioned his companions to silence. He bent down close to the dying - bandit. - </p> - <p> - “Who is dead, Pierre? Ben Thurston?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes. Ben Thurston. Glory be to God! Don Manuel is avenged!” - </p> - <p> - “And how did you come to be shot, Pierre? Where is Don Manuel?” - </p> - <p> - “Dead—dead, too!” The wounded man this time cried out the words and - struggled to sit up. His eyes opened wide, and fastened themselves on - Dick. His voice again dropped to a whisper; he was speaking lucidly now. - “But perhaps he lives. Who knows? Go and save him, Dick—Don Manuel—go, - go.” - </p> - <p> - Exhausted, Pierre sank back on the pillow. His eyes closed. The death - rattle was in his throat. “Where is he—where shall I find Don - Manuel?” Dick uttered the words close to Pierre’s ear. He alone caught the - faint answer. Pierre Luzon was dead. - </p> - <p> - “He’s gone, Chester,” said Dick, standing erect. Munson stooped, put his - ear to Pierre’s breast, then pressed apart one pair of the eyelids. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it’s all over,” he said solemnly, as he folded the coverlet over the - already marble-like face. - </p> - <p> - In stricken silence the three men passed to the outer room, shutting the - door softly behind them. - </p> - <p> - “What’s happened?” asked Jack Rover, “I couldn’t catch his bloomin’ - lingo.” - </p> - <p> - “Something terrible. There has evidently been a fight to the death on - Comanche Point between Ben Thurston and Don Manuel. Looks as if both of - them had gone over the cliff in the struggle.” - </p> - <p> - “Gee!” muttered the cowboy. - </p> - <p> - Dick remained just a moment in deep thought. His plan of action was - promptly decided on. - </p> - <p> - “Munson, old man, you saddle my pony, and ride to Tejon for help. Jack, - you remain here with the body.” - </p> - <p> - “And with the nuggets,” remarked the cowboy drily. - </p> - <p> - Dick paid no heed to the interruption. He continued: - </p> - <p> - “I’ll take the horse outside, and ride back to Comanche Point. That’s the - best we can do, and the main thing is to do it quickly. Pass me that flask - of whisky—it may come in handy. I’m off now, boys. You’ll find me at - the cliff. Bring a doctor, Ches. So long!” - </p> - <p> - The moon had now risen, and while Dick was galloping toward Comanche Point - from the one direction, the runabout, with Merle at the wheel and Tia - Teresa by her side, was speeding from the other end of the valley toward - the same destination. The horseman was the first to arrive. - </p> - <p> - Willoughby had no need to search long beneath the precipice. A loud, - continuous cry of lamentation guided him to the spot. There, wailing over - the corpse of Don Manuel, was the old Indian squaw, Guadalupe. Even in - death the two bodies were locked in each other’s embrace, and Dick noted - with horror that Ben Thurston’s teeth were buried in the flesh of his - enemy’s shoulder. Guadalupe was in the act of trying to separate the dead - men when Dick intervened. - </p> - <p> - Great heavens, what a withered, aged face was raised toward his own! It - was the first time he had ever seen Guadalupe unveiled and at close - quarters. Her cheeks were wrinkled into a hundred folds; her eyes were - sunken in deep cavernous hollows. When he touched her, she rose and, - jabbering furiously for all the world like an angry ape, reviled him with - curses, her meaning unmistakable, although she spoke in some strange - Indian tongue. - </p> - <p> - Just then Dick caught the distant chug-chug of the automobile. He looked - up the valley, wondering who might be passing at that hour of night. This - was not the main highway; nobody ever came to Comanche Point after dark. - Some intervening spur of the foothills dulled the sound; all was still and - silent. - </p> - <p> - He became conscious that Guadalupe’s fury had spent itself, and turned - round. The squaw was gone. His eyes searched the scrub; at one place he - saw the twigs bending, and he even fancied he could detect the outline of - the white wolf gliding away through the brushwood. But that was all. - </p> - <p> - Again the sound of the automobile smote his ears; louder now, and only a - few hundred yards away he beheld the headlights sweeping toward the spot - where he stood. He resolved to intercept the vehicle and stepped across - the belt of chaparral that intervened between him and the roadway. Gaining - the thoroughfare, he called aloud and the machine slowed down. - </p> - <p> - But what was his utter amazement when Merle jumped’ from the runabout. To - her there could be no more surprises on this night of surprises. - </p> - <p> - “Dick,” she exclaimed, as she accepted his embrace almost as a matter of - course. - </p> - <p> - “How do you come to be here, Merle, my darling?” he asked, holding her in - his arms. - </p> - <p> - “Something terrible is going to happen. I have come to try to prevent it. - Have you seen Don Manuel?” - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel!” He repeated the name in great surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Robles is Don Manuel,” she gasped by way of explanation. - </p> - <p> - “I am aware. He told me so today.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, where is he now? And his enemy, Mr. Thurston?” - </p> - <p> - Dick still had an arm on her shoulder. She was gazing up into his face, - her voice trembling with emotion as she breathlessly plied him with her - questions. - </p> - <p> - “You have come too late, dearest,” Willoughby gently replied. - </p> - <p> - “Dead!” she exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Both are dead. They fought and rolled over the precipice. I have just - found their bodies lying in the chaparral back there.” - </p> - <p> - Merle leaned forward, sobbing on his breast. - </p> - <p> - “Take me to him, take me to him,” she cried. - </p> - <p> - “No, Merle, my dear. It is better not. You must go home. Tia Teresa,” he - added, addressing the duenna who had drawn near, “she must go home. Munson - has gone to Tejon for help. There will be people arriving here very soon - now.” - </p> - <p> - “He is really dead—Don Manuel?” asked Tia Teresa in a voice of awed - sadness. - </p> - <p> - “There can be nothing but the one answer,” replied Dick. “Don Manuel has - passed on.” - </p> - <p> - “Take me to him,” moaned Merle. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, Merle. This is no sight for you.” - </p> - <p> - “But, Dick, Dick, don’t you know one other thing?” she pleaded, raising - her tearful eyes. - </p> - <p> - “What other thing?” - </p> - <p> - “Don Manuel—was my father—my dear, dear father.” - </p> - <p> - Again Willoughby was overwhelmed with amazement. - </p> - <p> - “Your father?” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I only came to know it today. So, Dick, dear, even though he is - dead, let me kiss him now, let me kneel by his side and tell him that I - loved him, and will always love and revere his memory. Let me watch by him - until the others come.” - </p> - <p> - Dick drew the sobbing girl close to him. His eyes sought those of Tia - Teresa. He shook his head, telling the duenna in an unmistakable way that - Merle must be taken home—that she must not be shocked by the - gruesome spectacle hidden in the chaparral. - </p> - <p> - Even as their eyes met, the faint throb of an automobile was heard, and - glancing across the plain Dick saw the far-away headlights twinkling like - twin stars. With a gesture he directed Tia Teresa’s attention to the - coming help. - </p> - <p> - “I shall watch by our beloved dead one,” said the duenna. “My place is by - his side. Come, dearie,” she went on, placing an arm around Merle’s waist. - “Mr. Willoughby will drive you back to La Siesta, and I shall see that - your father’s body is taken to his home. There we shall pay all honor to - the dead.” - </p> - <p> - Together they led Merle, unresisting now, to the runabout. Dick got in - beside her, and took the wheel. - </p> - <p> - “They will be here very soon now,” he said to Tia Teresa. “Mr. Munson will - give you all the help you require. I’ll look after Merle.” He backed the - machine, turned, and the little red light swept up the roadway into the - distance. From across the valley the headlights of a big automobile were - now glaring like flashing suns in the soft moonlight. - </p> - <p> - It was the hands of Tia Teresa that separated the bodies. That of Ben - Thurston she flung from her as if it had been carrion for the buzzards and - coyotes. Then she knelt down and stroked with loving hand the brow of Don - Manuel. On the dead face was a look of ineffable calm. - </p> - <p> - “Manuel, my Manuel, the little child I nursed! My beautiful, brave - Manuel!” - </p> - <p> - Thus lamenting, she awaited the coming of Munson and his friends. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLII—Wedding Bells - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> FULL year had - passed, and the good people of Tejon had at last ceased to speak daily - about Dick Willoughby’s exciting adventures, Ben Thurston’s inglorious - death, and the romantic and now indubitable ending of the famous outlaw, - Don Manuel. - </p> - <p> - Both the victims of the desperate fight on Comanche Point had been laid to - rest—Don Manuel, in the little Mission churchyard above the hill, - side by side with the beloved sister of his youthful days, whose betrayal - and death he had at last avenged, although at the cost of his own life; - Ben Thurston, in the modern cemetery beside his son, the poor weak youth - in whom the once sturdy family of pioneers had sunk to final decadency. - Pierre Luzon, the brave and chivalrous old Frenchman, slept near the grave - of the chief he had served so loyally, and, according to the old-time - bandit code of ethics, so nobly and so well. In the God’s acres where all - feuds pass to oblivion there was perfect peace. - </p> - <p> - Sing Ling had unobtrusively departed for China, a wealthy man, as the bank - manager at Bakersfield could have told, no doubt destined to become a - leading magnate in the Flowery Land. Guadalupe was never seen again; the - aged squaw had probably died in her secret cave. The white wolf, too, had - perished; a cowboy riding the range had been attracted by some buzzards - flying and circling round and round far up on the mountain side, and on - making his way to the indicated spot, had found the animal’s carcass - picked almost to the bones. The old days were forever gone. - </p> - <p> - But in the beautiful city of Tejon a glorious era of happiness was in - progress. Christmas-tide had come round again, and had been made gay with - a tournament of roses, and then with the dawning of the New Year had - followed a round of festivities in honor of the double wedding of Dick - Willoughby and Merle Farnsworth, Chester Munson and Grace Darlington. - </p> - <p> - In no place was there more sincere and hilarious rejoicing than in the - back parlor of Buck Ashley’s fine new store, where the mystery keg, - sacredly reserved for this great occasion, was once more on tap and the - postmaster, assisted by Tom Baker and Jack Rover, dispensed hospitality to - a few chosen friends. But all good things come to an end, and it was with - a regretful sigh that the sheriff squeezed out the last few drops from the - tilted keg and sipped for the last time “the blessed nectar” that had - served to keep green the memory of “dear old Pierre.” - </p> - <p> - The marriage ceremonies had been performed in a fine little church that - sheltered all denominations in the new town, and amidst a shower of rice - and old shoes the happy couples had departed for the wedding breakfast at - La Siesta. - </p> - <p> - To Merle the day was one of blissful joy, but of tender regrets as well. - During the quiet afternoon hours she and Dick had conversed about their - dear old friend, Mr. Robles—the gallant and chivalrous Don Manuel—the - beloved father whose identity as such was known only to their own two - selves besides Mrs. Darlington and Tia Teresa. - </p> - <p> - And now the hour of departure on the honeymoon trail had come. The idea of - a trip to Europe had been abandoned for the present. The young couples - were going up among the Canadian Rockies, by divergent routes which would - meet a little later on, and all were full of enthusiasm at the thought of - seeing the mighty mountains in their wintry grandeur. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Darlington accompanied the young people to the railway station, but - Tia Teresa was too deeply affected to trust herself away from home. Merle - had kissed her a tender good-bye in the apartment in the tower, and, - despite the joyful promise that they would soon meet again, had left the - old duenna in prayerful tears before her little altar. - </p> - <p> - At last they were pulling out from the depot, where the church crowd of - the morning had reassembled in full force, with fresh supplies of - good-luck munitions. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0371.jpg" alt="0371 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0371.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Thus, like a disbanding company of players, the actors in this tale of - California, pass into history. The olden days of bandits are no more, - while the hatred of the gringo is only a tradition. The broad acres of the - San Antonio Rancho no longer lie comparatively fallow in Nature’s pasture, - but are tilled by the thrifty plowman as he labors afield with fullest - confidence of a bountiful reward. Meanwhile, the mountains that look down - upon the beauteous valley guard their secret well. But searching eyes will - yet, undoubtedly, sometime, somewhere, rediscover the mysterious cavern - with its hoarded millions of loot, stored by the rapacious hands of - Joaquin Murietta, the White Wolf, and their brigand bands, its lake of oil - from which outlaws fed their lamps, and its subterranean river from whose - shallow riffles Guadalupe, and Dick Willoughby also, gathered a wealth of - golden spoil. - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52289 ***</div> - </body> -</html> - |