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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78657 ***
+
+
+
+
+                         BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA
+
+                                  OR
+
+                         _THE LITTLE EOHIPPUS_
+
+                       By EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES
+
+                     Author of "Good Men and True"
+
+                               NEW YORK
+
+                        HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+
+                                 1914
+
+                           Copyright, 1913,
+                                  By
+                         CURTIS PUBLISHING CO.
+
+                           Copyright, 1914,
+                                  By
+                        HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+
+                       _Published January, 1914_
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+
+                         PROLOGUE
+
+                       I THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL
+
+                      II FIRST AID
+
+                     III MAXWELTON BRAES
+
+                      IV THE ROAD TO ROME
+
+                       V THE MASKERS
+
+                      VI THE ISLE OF ARCADY
+
+                     VII STATES-GENERAL
+
+                    VIII ARCADES AMBO
+
+                      IX TAKEN
+
+                       X THE ALIBI
+
+                      XI THE NETTLE, DANGER
+
+                     XII THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN
+
+                    XIII THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN (_continued_)
+
+                     XIV FLIGHT
+
+                      XV GOOD-BY
+
+                     XVI THE LAND OF AFTERNOON
+
+                    XVII TWENTIETH CENTURY
+
+                   XVIII AT THE RAINBOW'S END
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: The Horses Were Unwilling to Enter the Circle of
+Firelight.]
+
+
+                         BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA
+
+
+
+
+                               PROLOGUE
+
+
+                                   I
+
+The long fall round-up was over. The wagon, homeward bound, made camp
+for the last night out at the Sinks of Lost River. Most of the men,
+worn with threescore night-guards, were buried under their tarps in
+the deep sleep of the weary; sound as that of the just, and much more
+common.
+
+By the low campfire a few yet lingered: old-timers, iron men, whose
+wiry and seasoned strength was toil-proof--and Leo Ballinger, for whom
+youth, excitement and unsated novelty served in lieu of fitness.
+
+The "firelighters," working the wide range again from Ancho to Hueco,
+from the Mal Pais to Glencoe, fell silent now, to mark an unstaled
+miracle.
+
+The clustered lights of Rainbow's End shone redly, near and low.
+Beyond, above, dominant, the black, unbroken bulk of Rainbow Range
+shut out the east. The clear-cut crest mellowed to luminous curves,
+feathery with far-off pines; the long skyline thrilled with frosty
+fire, glowed, sparkled--the cricket's chirp was stilled; the slow, late
+moon rose to a hushed and waiting world.
+
+On the sharp crest she paused, irresolute, tip-toe, quivering, rosily
+aflush. Above floated a web of gossamer. She leaped up, spurning the
+black rim; glowed, palpitant, through that filmy lace--and all the
+desert throbbed with vibrant light.
+
+Cool and sweet and fresh, from maiden leagues of clean, brown earth the
+desert winds made whisper in grass and fragrant shrub; yucca, mesquite
+and greasewood swayed--so softly, you had not known save as the long
+shadows courtesied and danced.
+
+Leo flung up his hand. The air was wine to him. A year had left the
+desert still new and strange. "Gee!" he said eloquently.
+
+Headlight nodded. "You're dead right on that point, son. If Christopher
+K. Columbus had only thought to beach his shallops on the sundown side
+of this here continent he might have made a name for himself. Just
+think how much different, hysterically, these United States----"
+
+"_This_ United States," corrected Pringle dispassionately. Their
+fathers had disagreed on the same grammatical point.
+
+Headlight scowled. "By Jings! 'That _this_ United Colonies are, and of
+right ought to be, free and independent States,'" he quoted. "I was
+goin' to give you something new to exercise your talons on. You sit
+here every night, ridin' broncs and four-footin' steers, and never
+grab a horn or waste a loop, not once. Sure things ain't amusin'. Some
+variety and doubtful accuracy, now, would develop our guessin' gifts."
+
+Aforesaid Smith brandished the end-gate rod. "Them speculations of
+yours sorter opens up of themselves. If California had been settled
+first the salmon would now be our national bird instead of the
+potato. Think of Arizona, mother of Presidents! Seat of government at
+Milipitas; center of population about Butte; New Jersey howlin' about
+Nevada trusts!" He impaled a few beef ribs and held them over the
+glowing embers.
+
+"Georgia and South Carolina would be infested by cow-persons
+in décolleté leather panties," said Jeff Bransford. "New York
+and Pennsylvania would be fondly turning a credulous ear to the
+twenty-fourth consecutive solemn promise of Statehood--with the Senator
+from Walla Walla urging admission of both as one mighty State with
+Maryland and Virginia thrown in for luck."
+
+Headlight forgot his pique. "Wouldn't the railroads sound funny,
+though? Needles and Eastern, Northern Atlantic, Southern Atlantic,
+Union, Western, Kansas and Central Atlantic! Earnest and continuous
+demand for a President from east of the Mississippi. All the
+prize-fights pulled off at Boston."
+
+"Columbus done just right," said Pringle decisively. "You fellers ain't
+got no imagination a-tall. If this Western country'd been settled
+first, the maps would read: 'Northeast Territory.--Uninhabitable
+wilderness; region of storm and snow, roaming savages and fierce wild
+beasts.' When the intrepid explorer hit the big white weather he'd say,
+'Little old San Diego's good enough for me!' Yes, sir!"
+
+"Oh, well, climate alone doesn't account for the charm of this
+country--nor scenery," said Leo. "You feel it, but you don't know why
+it is."
+
+"It sure agrees with your by-laws," observed Pringle. "You're a sight
+changed from the furtive behemoth you was. You'll make a hand yet. But,
+even now, your dimensions from east to west is plumb fascinatin'. I'd
+sure admire to have your picture to put in my cornfield."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Pringle: I'll exchange photographs with you," said Leo
+artlessly. A smothered laugh followed this remark; uncertainty as to
+what horrible and unnamed use Leo would make of Pringle's pictured face
+appealed to these speculative minds.
+
+"I've studied out this charm business," said Jeff. "See if I'm not
+right. It's because there's no habitually old men here to pattern
+after, to steady us, to make us ashamed of just staying boys. Now and
+then you hit an octagonal cuss like Wes here, that on a mere count of
+years and hairs might be sized up as old by the superficial observer.
+But if I have ever met that man more addicted with vivid nonchalance as
+to further continuance of educational facilities than this same Also
+Ran, his number has now escaped me. Really aged old people stay where
+they was."
+
+"I think, myself, that what makes life so easy and congenial in these
+latigos and longitudes is the dearth of law and the ladies." Thus
+Pringle, the cynic.
+
+A fourfold outcry ensued; indignant repudiation of the latter heresy.
+Their protest rose above the customary subdued and quiet drawl of the
+out-of-doors man.
+
+"But has the law no defenders?" demanded Leo. "We've got to have laws
+to make us behave."
+
+"Sure thing! Likewise, 'tis the waves that make the tide come in,"
+said Jeff. "A good law is as handy as a good pocketbook. But law, as
+simply such, independent of its merits, rouses no enthusiasm in my
+manly bosom, no more than a signboard the day after Hallowe'en. If it
+occurs to me in a moment of emotional sanity that the environments of
+the special case in hand call for a compound fracture of the statutes
+made and provided--for some totally different cases that happen to be
+called by the same name--I fall upon it with my glittering hew-gag,
+without no special wonder. For," he declaimed, "I am endowed by nature
+with certain inalienable rights, among which are the high justice, the
+middle, and the low!"
+
+"And who's to be the judge of whether it's a good law or not? You?"
+
+"Me. Me, every time. Some one must. If I let some other man make up
+my mind I've got to use my judgment--picking the man I follow. By
+organizing myself into a Permanent Committee of One to do my own
+thinking I take my one chance of mistakes instead of two."
+
+"So you believe in doing evil that good may come, do you?"
+
+"Well," said Jeff judicially, "it seems to be at least as good a
+proposition as doing good that evil may come of it. Why, Capricorn,
+there isn't one thing we call wrong, when other men do it, that hasn't
+been lawful, some time or other. When to break a law is to do a wrong,
+it's evil. When it's doing right to break a law, it's not evil. Got
+that? It's not wrong to keep a just law--and if it's wrong to break an
+unjust law I want a new dictionary with pictures of it in the back."
+
+"But laws is useful and excitin' diversions to break up the monogamy,"
+said Aforesaid. "And it's a dead easy way to build up a rep. Look
+at the edge I've got on you fellows. You're just supposed to be
+honest--but I've been proved honest, frequent!"
+
+"Hark!" said Pringle.
+
+A weird sound reached them--the night wrangler, beguiling his lonely
+vigil with song.
+
+    "Oh, the cuckoo is a pretty bird; she comes in the spring----"
+
+"What do you s'pose that night-hawk thinks about the majesty of the
+law?" he said. There was a ringing note in his voice. Smith and
+Headlight nodded gravely; their lean, brown faces hardened.
+
+"You haven't heard of it? Old John Taylor, daddy to yonder warbler,
+drifted here from the East. Wife and little girl both puny. Taylor
+takes up a homestead on the Feliz. He wasn't affluent none. I let him
+have my old paint pony, Freckles--him being knee-sprung and not up
+to cow-work. To make out an unparalleled team, he got Ed Poe's Billy
+Bowlegs, née Gambler, him havin' won a new name by a misunderstanding
+with a prairie-dog hole. Taylor paid Poe for him in work. He was a
+willin' old rooster, Taylor, but futile and left-handed all over.
+
+"John, Junior, he was only thirteen. Him and the old man moseyed around
+like two drunk ants, fixin' up a little log house with rock chimbleys,
+a horse-pen and shelter, rail-fencin' of the little _vegas_ to put to
+crops, and so on.
+
+"Done you good to drop in and hear 'em plan and figger. They was one
+happy family. How Sis Em'ly bragged about their hens layin'! In the
+spring we all held a bee and made their _'cequias_ for 'em. Baker, he
+loaned 'em a plow. They dragged big branches over the ground for a
+harrow. They could milk anybody's cows they was a mind to tame, and the
+boys took to carryin' over motherless calves for Mis' Taylor to raise.
+Taylor, he done odd jobs, and they got along real well with their
+crops. They went into the second winter peart as squirrels.
+
+"But, come spring, Sis wasn't doin' well. They had the Agency doctor.
+Too high up and too damp, he said. So the missus and Em'ly they went to
+Cruces, where Em'ly could go to school.
+
+"That meant right smart of expense--rentin' a house and all. So the
+Johns they hires out. John, Junior, made his dayboo as wrangler for the
+Steam Pitchfork, acquirin' the obvious name of Felix.
+
+"The old man he got a job muckin' in Organ mines. Kept his hawses in
+Jeff Isaack's pasture, and Saturday nights he'd get one and slip down
+them eighteen miles to Cruces for Sunday with the folks.
+
+"Well, you know, a homesteader can't be off his claim more'n six months
+at a time.
+
+"I reckon if there was ever a homestead taken up in good faith 'twas
+the Butterbowl. They knew the land laws from A to Izzard. Even named
+their hound pup Boney Fido!
+
+"But the old man waited at Organ till the last bell rang, so's to draw
+down his wages, payday. Then he bundles the folks into his little old
+wagon and lights out. Campin' at Casimiro's Well, half-way 'cross, that
+ornery Freckles hawse has a fit of malignant nostolgy and projects off
+for Butterbowl, afoot, in his hobbles. Next day, Taylor don't overtake
+him till the middle of the evenin', and what with going back and what
+with Freckles being hobble-sore, he's two days late in reachin' home.
+For Lake, of Agua Chiquite, that prosperous person, had been keeping
+cases. He entered contest on the Butterbowl, allegin' abandonment.
+
+"Now, if it was me--but, then, if 'twas me I could stay away six years
+and two months without no remonstrances from Lake or his likes. I'm
+somewhat abandoned myself.
+
+"But poor old Taylor, he's been drug up where they hold biped life
+unaccountable high. He sits him down resignedly beneath the sky,
+as the poet says, meek and legal. We all don't abnormally like to
+precipitate in another man's business, but we makes it up to sorter
+saunter in on Lake, spontaneous, and evince our disfavor with a rope.
+But Taylor says, 'No.' He allows the Land Office won't hold him morally
+responsible for the sinful idiocy of a homesick spotted hawse that's
+otherwise reliable.
+
+"He's got one more guess comin'. There ain't no sympathies to
+machinery. Your intentions may be strictly honorable, but if you get
+your hand caught in the cogs, off it goes, regardless of how handy it
+is for flankin' calves, holdin' nails, and such things. 'Absent over
+six months. Entry canceled. Contestant is allowed thirty days' prior
+right to file. Next.'
+
+"That's the way that decision'll read. It ain't come yet, but it's due
+soon.
+
+"This here Felix looks at it just like the old man, only
+different--though he ain't makin' no statements for publication. He
+come here young, and having acquired the fixed habit of riskin' his
+neck, regular, for one dollar per each and every diem, shooin' in the
+reluctant steer, or a fool hawse pirouettin' across the pinnacles
+with a nosebag on--or, mebbee, just for fun--why, natural, he don't
+see why life is so sweet or peace so dear as to put up with any damn
+foolishness, as Pat Henry used to say when the boys called on him
+for a few remarks. He's a some serious-minded boy, that night-hawk,
+and if signs is any indications, he's fixin' to take an appeal under
+the Winchester Act. I ain't no seventh son of a son-of-a-gun, but my
+prognostications are that he presently removes Lake to another and, we
+trust, a better world."
+
+"Good thing, too," grunted Headlight. "This Lake person is sure-lee a
+muddy pool."
+
+"Shet your fool head," said Pringle amiably. "You may be on the jury.
+I'm going to seek my virtuous couch. Glad we don't have to bed no
+cattle, _viva voce_, this night."
+
+"Ain't he the Latin scholar?" said Headlight admiringly. "They blow
+about that wire Julius Cæsar sent the Associated Press, but old man
+Pringle done him up for levity and precision when he wrote us the
+account of his visit to the Denver carnival. Ever hear about it,
+Sagittarius?"
+
+"No," said Leo. "What did he say?"
+
+"Hic--hock--hike!"
+
+
+                                  II
+
+Escondido, half-way of the desert, is designed on simple
+lines. The railroad hauls water in tank-cars from Dog Cañon.
+There is one depot, one section-house, and one combination
+post-office-hotel-store-saloon-stage-station, kept by Ma Sanders and
+Pappy Sanders, in about the order mentioned. Also, one glorious green
+cottonwood, one pampered rosebush, jointly the pride and delight of
+Escondido, ownerless, but cherished by loving care and "toted" tribute
+of waste water.
+
+Hither came Jeff and Leo, white with the dust of twenty starlit
+leagues, for accumulated mail of Rainbow South. Horse-feeding,
+breakfast, gossip with jolly, motherly Ma Sanders, reading and
+answering of mail--then their beauty nap; so missing the day's event,
+the passing of the Flyer. When they woke Escondido basked drowsily
+in the low, westering sun. The far sunset ranges had put off their
+workaday homespun brown and gray for chameleon hues of purple and
+amethyst; their deep, cool shadows, edged with trembling rose, reached
+out across the desert; the velvet air stirred faintly to the promise of
+the night.
+
+The agent was putting up his switch-lights; from the kitchen came a
+cheerful clatter of tin-ware.
+
+"Now we buy some dry goods and wet," said Leo. They went into the store.
+
+"That decision's come!" shrilled Pappy in tremulous excitement. "It's
+too dum bad! Registered letters from Land Office for Taylor and Lake,
+besides another for Lake, not registered."
+
+"That one from the Land Office, too?" said Jeff.
+
+"Didn't I jest tell ye? Say, it's a shame! Why don't some of you
+fellers----Gosh! If I was only young!"
+
+"It's a travesty on justice!" exclaimed Leo indignantly. "There's
+really no doubt but that they decided for Lake, I suppose?"
+
+"Not a bit. He's got the law with him. Then him and the Register is old
+cronies. Guess this other letter is from him unofficial, likely."
+
+Jeff seated himself on a box. "How long has this Lake got to do his
+filing in, Pappy?"
+
+"Thirty days from the time he signs the receipt for this letter--dum
+him!"
+
+"Some one ought to kidnap him," said Leo.
+
+"Why, that's illegal!" Jeff nursed his knee, turned his head to one
+side and chanted thoughtfully:
+
+    "Said the little Eohippus,
+      'I'm going to be a horse,
+    And on my middle finger-nails
+      To run my earthly course'----"
+
+He broke off and smiled at Leo indulgently. Leo glanced at him sharply;
+this was Jeff's warsong aforetime. But it was to Pappy that Jeff spoke:
+
+"Dad, you're a better'n any surgeon. Wish you'd go out and look at
+Leo's horse. His ankle's all swelled up. I'll be mixin' me up a toddy,
+if Ma's got any hot water. I'm feeling kinder squeamish."
+
+"Hot toddy, this weather? Some folks has queer tastes," grumbled Pappy.
+"Ex-_cuse_ me! Me and Leo'll go look at the Charley-horse. That bottle
+under the shelf is the best." He bustled out. But Jeff caught Ballinger
+by the sleeve.
+
+"Will you hold my garments while I stone Stephen?" he hissed.
+
+"I will," said Leo, meeting Jeff's eye. "Hit him once for me."
+
+"Move the lever to the right, you old retrograde, and get Pappy to
+gyratin' on his axis some fifteen or twenty minutes, you listenin'
+reverently. Meanwhile, I'll make the necessary incantations. Git! Don't
+look so blamed intelligent, or Pappy'll be suspicious."
+
+Bransford hastened to the kitchen. "Ma Sanders, a bronc fell on me
+yesterday and my poor body is one big stone bruise. Can I borrow some
+boiling water to mix a small prescription, or maybe seven? One when you
+first feel like it, and repeat at intervals, the doctor says."
+
+"Don't you get full in _my_ house, Jeff Bransford, or I'll feed you to
+the hawgs. You take three doses, and that'll be a-plenty for you."
+
+Jeff put the steaming kettle on the rusty store stove, used as a
+waste-paper basket through the long summer. Touching off the papers
+with a match, he smashed an empty box and put it in. Then he went into
+the post-office corner and laid impious hands on the United States Mail.
+
+First he steamed open Lake's unregistered letter from the Land Office.
+It was merely a few typewritten lines, having no reference to the
+Butterbowl: "Enclosing the Plat of TP. 14 E. of First Guide Meridan
+East Range S. of 3d Standard Parallel South, as per request."
+
+He paused to consider. His roving eye lit on the wall, where the
+Annual Report of the Governor of New Mexico hung from a nail. "The
+very thing," he said. Pasted in the report was a folded map of the
+Territory. This he cut out, refolded it till it slipped in the violated
+envelope, dabbed the flap neatly with Pappy's mucilage, and returned
+the letter to its proper pigeonhole.
+
+He replenished the fire with another box, subjected Lake's registered
+letter to the steaming process and opened it with delicate caution. It
+was the decision; it was in Lake's favor; and it went into the fire.
+Substituting for it the Plat of TP. 14 and the accompanying letter he
+resealed it with workmanlike neatness, and then restored it with a
+final inspection. "The editor sits on the madhouse floor, and pla-ays
+with the straws in his hair!" he murmured, beaming with complacent
+pride and reaching for the bottle.
+
+Pappy and Leo found him with his hands to the blaze, shivering. "I
+feel like I was going to have a chill," he complained. But with a few
+remedial measures he recuperated sufficiently to set off for Rainbow
+after supper.
+
+"Charley's ankle seems better," said Leo artlessly.
+
+"Don't you lay no stress on Charley's ankle," said Jeff, in a burst of
+confidence. "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be otherwise.
+Just let Charley's ankle slip your memory."
+
+The following day Bransford drew rein at Wes Pringle's shack and
+summoned him forth.
+
+"Mr. John Wesley Also-Ran Pringle," he said impressively, "I have
+taken a horse-ride over here to put you through your cataclysm. Will
+you truthfully answer the rebuses I shall now propound to the best of
+your ability, and govern yourself accordingly till the surface of Hades
+congeals to glistening bergs, and that with no unseemly curiosity?"
+
+"Is it serious?" asked Pringle anxiously.
+
+"This is straight talk."
+
+Pringle took a long look and held up his hand. "I will," he said
+soberly.
+
+"John Wesley, do you or do you not believe Stephen W. Lake, of Agua
+Chiquite, to be a low-down, coniferous skunk by birth, inclination and
+training?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"John Wesley, do you or do you not possess the full confidence and
+affection of Felix, the night-hawk, otherwise known and designated as
+John Taylor, Junior, of Butterbowl, Esquire?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Do you, John Wesley Pringle, esteem me, Jeff Bransford, irrespective
+of color, sex or previous condition of turpitude, to be such a one as
+may be safely tied to when all the hitching-posts is done pulled up,
+and will you now promise to love, honor and obey me till the cows come
+home, or till further orders?"
+
+"I do--I will. And may God have mercy on my soul."
+
+"Here are your powders, then. Do you go and locate the above-mentioned
+and described Felix, and impart to him, under the strict seal of
+secrecy, these tidings, to wit, namely: That you have a presentiment,
+almost amounting to conviction, that the Butterbowl contest is decided
+in Lake's favor, but that your further presentiments is that said Lake
+will not use his prior right. If Taylor should get such a decision from
+the Land Office don't let him or Felix say a word to no one. If Mr.
+B. Body should ask, tell 'em 'twas a map, or land laws, or something.
+Moreover, said Felix he is not to stab, cut, pierce or otherwise
+mutilate said Lake, nor to wickedly, maliciously, feloniously and
+unlawfully fire at or upon the person of said Lake with any rifle,
+pistol, musket or gun, the same being then and there loaded with powder
+and with balls, shots, bullets or slugs of lead or other metal. You
+see to that, personal. I'd go to him myself, but he don't know me well
+enough to have confidence in my divinations.
+
+"You promulgate these prophecies as your sole personal device and
+construction--_sabe_? Then, thirty days after Lake signs a receipt for
+his decision--and you will take steps to inform yourself of that--you
+sidle casually down to Roswell with old man Taylor and see that he puts
+preëmption papers on the Butterbowl. Selah!"
+
+
+                                  III
+
+The first knowledge Lake had of the state of affairs was when the
+Steam Pitchfork punchers informally extended to him the right hand
+of fellowship (hitherto withheld) under the impression that he had
+generously abstained from pushing home his vantage. When, in the
+mid-flood of his unaccountable popularity, the situation dawned upon
+him, he wisely held his peace. He was a victim of the accomplished
+fact. Taylor had already filed his preëmption. So Lake reaped volunteer
+harvest of good-will, bearing his honors in graceful silence.
+
+On Lake's next trip to Escondido, Pappy Sanders laid aside his marked
+official hauteur. Lake stayed several days, praised the rosebush and Ma
+Sanders' cookery, and indulged in much leisurely converse with Pappy.
+Thereafter he had a private conference with Stratton, the Register of
+the Roswell Land Office. His suspicion fell quite naturally on Felix,
+and on Jeff as accessory during the fact.
+
+So it was that, when Jeff and Leo took in Roswell fair (where Jeff won
+a near-prize at the roping match), Hobart, the United States Marshal,
+came to their room. After introducing himself he said:
+
+"Mr. Stratton would like to see you, Mr. Bransford."
+
+"Why, that's all right!" said Jeff genially. "Some of my very great
+grandfolks was Dacotahs and I've got my name in 'Who's Sioux'--but I'm
+not proud! Trot him around. Exactly who is Stratton, anyhow?"
+
+"He's the Register of the Land Office--and he wants to see you there
+on very particular business. I'd go if I was you," said the Marshal
+significantly.
+
+"Oh, that way!" said Jeff. "Is this an arrest, or do you just give me
+this _in_-vite semi-officiously?"
+
+"You accuse yourself, sir. Were you expecting arrest? That sounds like
+a bad conscience."
+
+"Don't you worry about my conscience. 'If I've ever done anything I'm
+sorry for I'm glad of it.' Now this Stratton party--is he some aged and
+venerable? 'Cause, if he is, I waive ceremony and seek him in his lair
+at the witching hour of two this _tarde_. And if not, not."
+
+"He's old enough--even if there were no other reasons."
+
+"Never mind any other reasons. It shall never be said that I fail to
+reverence gray hairs. I'll be there."
+
+"I guess I'll just wait and see that you go," said the Marshal.
+
+"Have you got any papers for me?" asked Jeff politely.
+
+"No."
+
+"This is my room," said Jeff. "This is my fist. This is me. That is my
+door. Open it, Leo. Mr. Hobart, you will now make rapid forward motions
+with your feet, alternately, like a man removing his company from where
+it is not desired--or I'll go through you like a domesticated cyclone.
+See you at two, sharp!" Hobart obeyed. He was a good judge of men.
+
+Jeff closed the door. "'We went upon the battlefield,'" he said
+plaintively, "'before us and behind us, and every which-a-way we
+looked, we seen a roscerhinus.' We went into another field--behind us
+and before us, and every which-a-way we looked, we seen a rhinusorus.
+Mr. Lake has been evidently browsin' and pe-rusing around, and poor
+old Pappy, not being posted, has likely been narratin' about Charley's
+ankle and how I had a chill. Wough-ough!"
+
+"It looks that way," confessed Leo. "_Did_ you have a chill, Jeff?"
+
+Jeff's eyes crinkled. "Not so nigh as I am now. But shucks! I've been
+in worse emergencies, and I always emerged. Thanks be, I can always do
+my best when I have to. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we don't
+keep in practice! If I'd just come out straightforward and declared
+myself to Pappy, he'd 'a' tightened up his drawstrings and forgot all
+about my chill. But, no, well as I know from long experience that good
+old human nature's only too willin' to do the right thing and the fair
+thing--if somebody'll only tip it off to 'em--I must play a lone hand
+and not even call for my partner's best. Well, I'm goin' to ramify
+around and scrutinize this here Stratton's numbers, equipments and
+disposition. Meet me in the office at the fatal hour!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Marshal wore a mocking smile. Stratton, large, florid, well-fed
+and eminently respectable, turned in his revolving chair with a severe
+and majestic motion; adjusted his glasses in a prolonged and offensive
+examination, and frowned portentously.
+
+"Fine large day, isn't it?" observed Jeff affably. "Beautiful little
+city you have here." He sank into a chair. Smile and attitude were of
+pleased and sprightly anticipation.
+
+A faint flush showed beneath Stratton's neatly-trimmed mutton-chops.
+Such jaunty bearing was exasperating to offended virtue. "Ah--who is
+this other person, Mr. Hobart?"
+
+"Pardon my rudeness!" Jeff sprang up and bowed brisk apology. "Mr.
+Stratton, allow me to present Mr. Ballinger, a worthy representative
+of the Yellow Press. Mr. Stratton--Mr. Ballinger!"
+
+"I have a communication to make to you," said the displeased Mr.
+Stratton, in icy tones, "which, in your own interest, should be
+extremely private." The Marshal whispered to him; Stratton gave Leo a
+fiercely intimidating glare.
+
+"Communicate away," said Jeff airily. "Excommunicate, if you want to.
+Mr. Ballinger, as a citizen, is part owner of this office. If you want
+to bar him you'll have to change the venue to your private residence.
+And then I won't come."
+
+"Very well, sir!" Mr. Stratton rose, inflated his chest and threw
+back his head. His voice took on a steady roll. "Mr. Bransford, you
+stand under grave displeasure of the law! You are grievously suspected
+of being cognizant of, if not actually accessory to, the robbery of
+the United States Mail by John Taylor, Junior, at Escondido, on the
+eighteenth day of last October. You may not be aware of it, but you
+have an excellent chance of serving a term in the penitentiary!"
+
+Jeff pressed his hands between his knees and leaned forward. "I'm
+sure I'd never be satisfied there," he said, with conviction. His
+white teeth flashed in an ingratiatory smile. "But why suspect
+young John?--why not old John?" He paused, looking at the Register
+attentively. "H'm!--you're from Indiana, I believe, Mr. Stratton?" he
+said.
+
+"The elder Taylor, on the day in question, is fully accounted for,"
+said Hobart. "Young Taylor claims to have passed the night at Willow
+Springs, alone. But no one saw him from breakfast time the seventeenth
+till noon on the nineteenth."
+
+"He rarely ever has any one with him when he's alone. That may account
+for them not seeing him at Willow," suggested Jeff. He did not look at
+Hobart, but regarded Stratton with an air of deep meditation.
+
+The Register paced the floor slowly, ponderously, with an impressive
+pause at each turn, tapping his left hand with his eyeglass to
+score his points. "He had ample time to go to Escondido and return.
+The envelope in which Mr. Lake's copy of this office's decision in
+the Lake-Taylor contest was enclosed has been examined. It bears
+unmistakable signs of having been tampered with." Turning to mark the
+effect of these tactics, he became aware of his victim's contemplative
+gaze. It disconcerted him. He resumed his pacing. Jeff followed him
+with a steady eye.
+
+"In the same mail I sent Mr. Lake another letter. The envelope was
+unfortunately destroyed, Mr. Lake suspecting nothing. A map had been
+substituted for its contents, and they, in turn, were substituted for
+the decision in the registered letter, with the evident intention of
+depriving Mr. Lake of his prior right to file."
+
+"By George! It sounds probable." Jeff laughed derisively. "So that's
+it! And here we all thought Lake let it go out of giddy generosity! My
+stars, but won't he get the horse-smile when the boys find out?"
+
+Stratton controlled himself with an effort. "We have decided not to
+push the case against you if you will tell what you know," he began.
+
+Jeff lifted his brows. "_We?_ And who's _we_? You two? I should have
+thought this was a post-office lay."
+
+"We are investigating the affair," explained Hobart.
+
+"I see! As private individuals. Yes, yes. Does Lake pay you by the day
+or by the job?"
+
+Stratton, blazing with anger, smote his palm heavily with his fist.
+"Young man! Young man! Your insolence is unbearable! We are trying to
+spare you--as you had no direct interest in the matter and doubtless
+concealed your guilty knowledge through a mistaken and distorted sense
+of honor. But you tempt us--you tempt us! You don't seem to realize the
+precarious situation in which you stand."
+
+"What I don't see," said Jeff, in puzzled tones, "is why you bother
+to spare me at all. If you can prove this, why don't you cinch me and
+Felix both? Why do you want me to tell you what you already know? And
+if you can't prove it--who the hell cares what you suspect?"
+
+"We will arrest you," said Stratton thickly, "just as soon as we can
+make out the papers!"
+
+"Turn your wolf loose, you four-flushers! You may make me trouble,
+but you can't prove anything. Speaking of trouble--how about you, Mr.
+Stratton?" As a spring leaps, released from highest tension, face and
+body and voice flashed from passive indolence to sudden, startling
+attack. His arm lashed swiftly out as if to deliver the swordsman's
+stabbing thrust; the poised body followed up to push the stroke home.
+"You think your secret safe, don't you? It's been some time ago."
+
+Words only--yet it might have been a very sword's point past Stratton's
+guard. For the Register flinched, staggered, his arrogant face grew
+mottled, his arm went up. He fell back a step, silent, quivering,
+leaning heavily on a chair. The Marshal gave him a questioning glance.
+Jeff kept on.
+
+"You're prominent in politics, business, society, the church. You've a
+family to think of. It's up to you, Mr. Stratton. Is it worth while?
+Had we better drop it with a dull, sickening thud?"
+
+Stratton collapsed into the chair, a shapeless bundle, turning a
+shriveled, feeble face to the Marshal in voiceless imploring.
+
+Unhesitating, Hobart put a hand on his shoulder. "That's all right,
+old man! We won't give you away. Brace up!" He nodded Jeff to the door.
+"You win!" he said. Leo followed on tip-toe.
+
+"Why, the poor old duck!" said Jeff remorsefully, in the passage. "Wish
+I hadn't come down on him so hard. I overdid it that time. Still, if I
+hadn't----"
+
+At the Hondo Bridge Jeff looked back and waved a hand. "Good-by, old
+town! Now we go, gallopy-trot, gallopy, gallopy-trot!" He sang, and the
+ringing hoofs kept time and tune,
+
+    "Florence Mehitabel Genevieve Jane,
+    She came home in the wind an' the rain,
+    She came home in the rain an' the snow;
+    'Ain't a-goin' to leave my home any mo'!'"
+
+"Jeff," said the mystified Ballinger, spurring up beside him, "what has
+the gray-haired Register done? Has murder stained his hands with gore?"
+
+Jeff raised his bridle hand.
+
+"Gee! Leo, I don't know! I just taken a chance!"
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I
+
+                   THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL
+
+    "When I bend my head low and listen at the ground,
+    I can hear vague voices that I used to know,
+    Stirring in dim places, faint and restless sound;
+    I remember how it was when the grass began to grow."
+
+                         --_Song of The Wandering Dust_,
+                           ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH.
+
+
+The pines thinned as she neared Rainbow Rim, the turfy glades grew
+wider; she had glimpses of open country beyond--until, at last,
+crossing a little spit of high ground, she came to the fairest spot in
+all her voyage of exploration and discovery. She sank down on a fallen
+log with a little sigh of delight.
+
+The steep bank of a little cañon broke away at her feet--a cañon which
+here marked the frontier of the pines, its farther side overgrown with
+mahogany bush and chaparral--a cañon that fell in long, sinuous curves
+from the silent mystery of forest on Rainbow Crest behind her, to widen
+just below into a rolling land, parked with green-black powderpuffs
+of juniper and cedar; and so passed on to mystery again, twisting
+away through the folds of the low and bare gray hills to the westward,
+ere the last stupendous plunge over the Rim to the low desert, a mile
+toward the level of the waiting sea.
+
+Facing the explorer, across the little cañon, a clear spring bubbled
+from the hillside and fell with pleasant murmur and tinkle to a pool
+below, fringed with lush emerald--a spring massed about with wild
+grapevine, shining reeds of arrow-weed; a tangle of grateful greenery,
+jostling eagerly for the life-giving water. Draped in clinging vines,
+slim acacias struggled up through the jungle; the exquisite fragrance
+of their purple bells gave a final charm to the fairy chasm.
+
+But the larger vision! The nearer elfin beauty dwindled, was lost,
+forgotten. Afar, through a narrow cleft in the gray westward hills,
+the explorer's eye leaped out over a bottomless gulf to a glimpse
+of shining leagues midway of the desert greatness--an ever-widening
+triangle that rose against the peaceful west to long foothill reaches,
+to a misty mountain parapet, far-beckoning, whispering of secrets,
+things dreamed of, unseen, beyond the framed and slender arc of vision.
+A land of enchantment and mystery, decked with strong barbaric colors,
+blue and red and yellow, brown and green and gray; whose changing ebb
+and flow, by some potent sorcery of atmosphere, distance and angle,
+altered, daily, hourly; deepening, fading, combining into new and
+fantastic lines and shapes, to melt again as swiftly to others yet more
+bewildering.
+
+The explorer? It may be mentioned in passing that any other would
+have found that fairest prospect even more wonderful than did the
+explorer, Miss Ellinor Hoffman. We will attempt no clear description
+of Miss Ellinor Hoffman. Dusky-beautiful she was; crisp, fresh and
+sparkling; tall, vigorous, active, strong. Yet she was more than
+merely beautiful--warm and frank and young; brave and kind and true.
+Perhaps, even more than soft curves, lips, glory of hair or bewildering
+eyes, or all together, her chiefest charm was her manner, her frank
+friendliness. Earth was sweet to her, sweeter for her.
+
+This by way of aside and all to no manner of good. You have no picture
+of her in your mind. Remember only that she was young--
+
+    "The stars to drink from and the sky to dance on"
+
+--young and happy, and therefore beautiful; that the sun was shining in
+a cloudless sky, the south wind sweet and fresh, buds in the willow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The peace was rent and shivered by strange sounds, as of a giant
+falling downstairs. There was a crash of breaking boughs beyond the
+cañon, a glint of color, a swift black body hurtling madly through
+the shrubbery. The girl shrank back. There was no time for thought,
+hardly for alarm. On the farther verge the bushes parted; an apparition
+hurled arching through the sunshine, down the sheer hill--a glorious
+and acrobatic horse, his black head low between his flashing feet;
+red nostrils wide with rage and fear; foam flecks white on the black
+shoulders; a tossing mane; a rider, straight and tall, superb--to all
+seeming an integral part of the horse, pitch he never so wildly.
+
+The girl held her breath through the splintered seconds. She thrilled
+at the shock and storm of them, straining muscles and white hoofs,
+lurching, stumbling, sliding, lunging, careening in perilous arcs. She
+saw stones that rolled with them or bounded after; a sombrero whirled
+above the dust and tumult like a dilatory parachute; a six-shooter
+jolted up into the air. Through the dust-clouds there were glimpses of
+a watchful face, hair blown back above it; a broken rein snapped beside
+it, saddle-strings streamed out behind; a supple body that swung from
+curve to easy curve against shock and plunge, that swayed and poised
+and clung, and held its desperate dominion still. The saddle slipped
+forward; with a motion incredibly swift, as a hat is whipped off in
+a gust of wind, it whisked over withers and neck and was under the
+furious feet. Swifter, the rider! Cat-quick, he swerved, lit on his
+feet, leaped aside.
+
+Alas, oh, rider beyond compare, undefeated champion, Pride of Rainbow!
+Alas, that such thing should be recorded! He leaped aside to shun the
+black frantic death at his shoulder; his feet were in the treacherous
+vines: he toppled, grasped vainly at an acacia, catapulted out and
+down, head first; so lit, crumpled and fell with a prodigious splash
+into the waters of the pool! _Ay di mi, Alhama!_
+
+The blankets lay strewn along the hill; but observe that the long lead
+rope of the hackamore (a "hackamore," properly _jaquima_, is, for
+your better understanding, merely a rope halter) was coiled at the
+saddle-horn, held there by a stout hornstring. As the black reached
+the level the saddle was at his heels. To kick was obvious, to go away
+not less so; but this new terror clung to the maddened creature in
+his frenzied flight--between his legs, in the air, at his heels, his
+hip, his neck. A low tree leaned from the hillside; the aërial saddle
+caught in the forks of it, the bronco's head was jerked round, he was
+pulled to his haunches, overthrown; but the tough hornstring broke, the
+freed coil snapped out at him; he scrambled up and bunched his glorious
+muscles in a vain and furious effort to outrun the rope that dragged at
+his heels, and so passed from sight beyond the next curve.
+
+Waist-deep in the pool sat the hatless horseman, or perhaps horseless
+horseman were the juster term, steeped in a profound calm. That last
+phrase has a familiar sound; Mark Twain's, doubtless--but, all things
+considered, steeped is decidedly the word. One gloved hand was in the
+water, the other in the muddy margin of the pool: he watched the final
+evolution of his late mount with meditative interest. The saddle was
+freed at last, but its ex-occupant still sat there, lost in thought.
+Blood trickled, unnoted, down his forehead.
+
+The last stone followed him into the pool; the echoes died on the
+hills. The spring resumed its pleasant murmur, but the tinkle of
+its fall was broken by the mimic waves of the pool. Save for this
+troubled sloshing against the banks, the slow-settling dust and the
+contemplative bust of the one-time centaur, no trace was left to mark
+the late disastrous invasion.
+
+The invader's dreamy and speculative gaze followed the dust of the
+trailing rope. He opened his lips twice or thrice, and spoke, after
+several futile attempts, in a voice mild, but clearly earnest:
+
+"Oh, you little eohippus!"
+
+The spellbound girl rose. Her hand was at her throat; her eyes were big
+and round, and her astonished lips were drawn to a round, red O.
+
+Sharp ears heard the rustle of her skirts, her soft gasp of amazement.
+The merman turned his head briskly, his eye met hers. One gloved hand
+brushed his brow; a broad streak of mud appeared there, over which the
+blood meandered uncertainly. He looked up at the maid in silence: in
+silence the maid looked down at him. He nodded, with a pleasant smile.
+
+"Good-morning!" he said casually.
+
+At this cheerful greeting, the astounded maid was near to tumbling
+after, like Jill of the song.
+
+"Er--good-morning!" she gasped.
+
+Silence. The merman reclined gently against the bank with a comfortable
+air of satisfaction. The color came flooding back to her startled face.
+
+"Oh, are you hurt?" she cried.
+
+A puzzled frown struggled through the mud.
+
+"Hurt?" he echoed. "Who, me?... Why, no--leastwise, I guess not."
+
+He wiggled his fingers, raised his arms, wagged his head doubtfully and
+slowly, first sidewise and then up and down; shook himself guardedly,
+and finally raised tentative boot-tips to the surface. After this
+painstaking inspection he settled contentedly back again.
+
+"Oh, no, I'm all right," he reported. "Only I lost a big, black, fine,
+young, nice horse somehow. You ain't seen nothing of him, have you?"
+
+"Then why don't you get out?" she demanded. "I believe you are hurt."
+
+"Get out? Why, yes, ma'am. Certainly. Why not?" But the girl was
+already beginning to clamber down, grasping the shrubbery to aid in the
+descent.
+
+Now the bank was steep and sheer. So the merman rose, tactfully
+clutching the grapevines behind him as a plausible excuse for turning
+his back. It followed as a corollary of this generous act that he must
+needs be lame, which he accordingly became. As this mishap became
+acute, his quick eyes roved down the cañon, where he saw what gave him
+pause; and he groaned sincerely under his breath. For the black horse
+had taken to the parked uplands, the dragging rope had tangled in a
+snaggy tree-root, and he was tracing weary circles in bootless effort
+to be free.
+
+Tactful still, the dripping merman hobbled to the nearest shade
+wherefrom the luckless black horse should be invisible, eclipsed by the
+intervening ridge, and there sank down in a state of exhaustion, his
+back to a friendly tree-trunk.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                               FIRST AID
+
+    "Oh woman! in our hours of ease
+    Uncertain, coy and hard to please;
+    But seen too oft, familiar with thy face
+    We first endure, then pity, then embrace!"
+
+
+A moment later the girl was beside him, pity in her eyes.
+
+"Let me see that cut on your head," she said. She dropped on her knee
+and parted the hair with a gentle touch.
+
+"Why, you're real!" breathed the injured near-centaur, beaming with
+wonder and gratification.
+
+She sat down limply and gave way to wild laughter.
+
+"So are you!" she retorted. "Why, that is exactly what I was thinking!
+I thought maybe I was asleep and having an extraordinary dream. That
+wound on your head is not serious, if that's all." She brushed back a
+wisp of hair that blew across her eyes.
+
+"I hurt this head just the other day," observed the bedraggled victim,
+as one who has an assortment of heads from which to choose. He pulled
+off his soaked gloves and regarded them ruefully. "'Them that go down
+to deep waters!' That was a regular triumph of matter over mind, wasn't
+it?"
+
+"It's a wonder you're alive! My! How frightened I was! Aren't you
+hurt--truly? Ribs or anything?"
+
+The patient's elbows made a convulsive movement to guard the threatened
+ribs.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am. I ain't hurt a bit--indeed I ain't," he said
+truthfully; but his eyes had the languid droop of one who says the
+thing that is not. "Don't you worry none about me--not one bit. Sorry I
+frightened you. That black horse now----" He stopped to consider fully
+the case of the black horse. "Well, you see, ma'am, that black horse,
+he ain't exactly right plumb gentle." His eyelids drooped again.
+
+The girl considered. She believed him--both that he was not badly hurt
+and that the black horse was not exactly gentle. And her suspicions
+were aroused. His slow drawl was getting slower; his cowboyese
+broader--a mode of speech quite inconsistent with that first sprightly
+remark about the little eohippus. What manner of cowboy was this, from
+whose tongue a learned scientific term tripped spontaneously in so
+stressful a moment--who quoted scraps of the litany unaware? Also, her
+own eyes were none of the slowest. She had noted that the limping did
+not begin until he was clear of the pool. Still, that might happen if
+one were excited; but this one had been singularly calm, "more than
+usual ca'm," she mentally quoted.... Of course, if he really were badly
+hurt--which she didn't believe one bit--a little bruised and jarred,
+maybe--the only thing for her to do would be to go back to camp and get
+help.... That meant the renewal of Lake's hateful attentions and--for
+the other girls, the sharing of her find.... She stole another look
+at her find and thrilled with all the pride of the discoverer.... No
+doubt he was shaken and bruised, after all. He must be suffering. What
+a splendid rider he was!
+
+"What made you so absurd? Why didn't you get out of the water, then, if
+you are not hurt?" she snapped suddenly.
+
+The drooped lids raised; brown eyes looked steadily into brown eyes.
+
+"I didn't want to wake up," he said.
+
+The candor of this explanation threw her, for the moment, into a vivid
+and becoming confusion. The dusky roses leaped to her cheeks; the long,
+dark lashes quivered and fell. Then she rose to the occasion.
+
+"And how about the little eohippus?" she demanded. "That doesn't seem
+to go well with some of your other talk."
+
+"Oh!" He regarded her with pained but unflinching innocence. "The
+Latin, you mean? Why, ma'am, that's most all the Latin I know--that
+and some more big words in that song. I learned that song off of Frank
+John, just like a poll-parrot."
+
+"Sing it! And eohippus isn't Latin. It's Greek."
+
+"Why, ma'am, I can't, just now--I'm so muddy; but I'll tell it to
+you. Maybe I'll sing it to you some other time." A sidelong glance
+accompanied this little suggestion. The girl's face was blank and
+non-committal; so he resumed: "It goes like this:
+
+    "Said the little Eohippus,
+      'I'm going to be a horse,
+    And on my middle finger-nails
+      To run my earthly course'----
+
+No; that wasn't the first. It begins:
+
+    "There was once a little animal
+      No bigger than a fox,
+    And on five toes he scampered----
+
+"Of course you know, ma'am--Frank John he told me about it--that horses
+were little like that, 'way back. And this one he set his silly head
+that he was going to be a really-truly horse, like the song says. And
+folks told him he couldn't--couldn't possibly be done, nohow. And sure
+enough he did. It's a foolish song, really. I only sing parts of it
+when I feel like that--like it couldn't be done and I was going to do
+it, you know. The boys call it my song. Look here, ma'am!" He fished in
+his vest pocket and produced tobacco and papers, matches--last of all,
+a tiny turquoise horse, an inch long. "I had a jeweler-man put five
+toes on his feet once to make him be a little eohippus. Going to make
+a watch-charm of him sometime. He's a lucky little eohippus, I think.
+Peso gave him to me when--never mind when. Peso's a Mescalero Indian,
+you know, chief of police at the agency." He gingerly dropped the
+little horse into her eager palm.
+
+It was a singularly grotesque and angular little beast, high-stepping,
+high-headed, with a level stare, at once complacent and haughty.
+Despite the first unprepossessing rigidity of outline, there was
+somehow a sprightly air, something endearing, in the stiff, purposed
+stride, the alert, inquiring ears, the stern and watchful eye. Each
+tiny hoof was faintly graven to semblance of five tinier toes; there,
+the work showed fresh.
+
+"The cunning little monster!" Prison grime was on him; she groomed
+and polished at his dingy sides until the wonderful color shone out
+triumphant. "What is it that makes him such a dear? Oh, I know. It's
+something--well, child-like, you know. Think of the grown-up child
+that toiled with pride and joy at the making of him--dear me, how
+many lifetimes since!--and fondly put him by as a complete horse."
+She held him up in the sun: the ingrate met her caress with the same
+obdurate and indomitable glare. She laughed her rapturous delight:
+"There! How much better you look! Oh, you darling! Aren't you absurd?
+Straight-backed, stiff-legged, thick-necked, square-headed--and that
+ridiculously baleful eye! It's too high up and too far forward, you
+know--and your ears are too big--and you have such a malignant look!
+Never mind; now that you're all nice and clean, I'm going to reward
+you." Her lips just brushed him--the lucky little eohippus.
+
+The owner of the lucky little horse was not able to repress one swift,
+dismal glance at his own vast dishevelment, nor, as his shrinking
+hands, entirely of their own volition, crept stealthily to hiding, the
+slightest upward rolling of a hopeful eye toward the leaping waters of
+the spring; but, if one might judge from her sedate and matter-of-fact
+tones, that eloquent glance was wasted on the girl.
+
+"You ought to take better care of him, you know," she said as she
+restored the little monster to his owner. Then she laughed. "Hasn't he
+a fierce and warlike appearance, though?"
+
+"Sure. That's resolution. Look at those legs!" said the owner fondly.
+"He spurns the ground. He's going somewheres. He's going to be a
+horse! And them ears--one cocked forward and the other back, strictly
+on the _cuidado_! He'll make it. He'll certainly do to take along! Yes,
+ma'am, I'll take right good care of him." He regarded the homely beast
+with awe; he swathed him in cigarette papers with tenderest care. "I'll
+leave him at home after this. He might get hurt. I might sometime want
+to give him to--somebody."
+
+The girl sprang up.
+
+"Now I must get some water and wash that head," she announced briskly.
+
+"Oh, no--I can't let you do that. I can walk. I ain't hurt a bit, I
+keep telling you." In proof of which he walked to the pool with a
+palpably clever assumption of steadiness. The girl fluttered solicitous
+at his elbow. Then she ran ahead, climbed up to the spring and extended
+a firm, cool hand, which he took shamelessly, and so came to the fairy
+waterfall.
+
+Here he made himself presentable as to face and hands. It is just
+possible there was a certain expectancy in his eye as he neared the
+close of these labors; but if there were it passed unnoted. The girl
+bathed the injured head with her handkerchief, and brushed back his
+hair with a dainty caressing motion that thrilled him until the color
+rose beneath the tan. There was a glint of gray in the wavy black hair,
+she noted.
+
+She stepped back to regard her handiwork. "Now you look better!" she
+said approvingly. Then, slightly flurried, not without a memory of a
+previous and not dissimilar remark of hers, she was off up the hill:
+whence, despite his shocked protest, she brought back the lost gun and
+hat.
+
+Her eyes were sparkling when she returned, her face glowing. Ignoring
+his reproachful gaze, she wrung out her handkerchief, led the
+patient firmly down the hill and to his saddle, made him trim off a
+saddle-string, and bound the handkerchief to the wound. She fitted the
+sombrero gently.
+
+"There! Don't this head feel better now?" she queried gayly, with fine
+disregard for grammar. "And now what? Won't you come back to camp with
+me? Mr. Lake will be glad to put you up or to let you have a horse. Do
+you live far away? I do hope you are not one of those Rosebud men. Mr.
+La----" She bit her speech off midword.
+
+"No men there except this Mr. Lake?" asked the cowboy idly.
+
+"Oh, yes; there's Mr. Herbert--he's gone riding with Lettie--and Mr.
+White; but it was Mr. Lake who got up the camping party. Mother and
+Aunt Lot, and a crowd of us girls--La Luz girls, you know. Mother and I
+are visiting Mr. Lake's sister. He's going to give us a masquerade ball
+when we get back, next week."
+
+The cowboy looked down his nose for consultation, and his nose gave a
+meditative little tweak.
+
+"What Lake is it? There's some several Lakes round here. Is it Lake of
+Aqua Chiquite--wears his hair décolleté; talks like he had a washboard
+in his throat; tailor-made face; walks like a duck on stilts; general
+sort of pouter-pigeon effect?"
+
+At this envenomed description, Miss Ellinor Hoffman promptly choked.
+
+"I don't know anything about your Aqua Chiquite. I never heard of the
+place before. He is a banker in Arcadia. He keeps a general store
+there. You must know him, surely." So far her voice was rather stern
+and purposely resentful, as became Mr. Lake's guest; but there were
+complications, rankling memories of Mr. Lake--of unwelcome attentions
+persistently forced upon her. She spoiled the rebuke by adding tartly,
+"But I think he is the man you mean!" and felt her wrongs avenged.
+
+The cowboy's face cleared.
+
+"Well, I don't use Arcadia much, you see. I mostly range down Rainbow
+River. Arcadia folks--why, they're mostly newcomers, health-seekers and
+people just living on their incomes--not working folks much, except
+the railroaders and lumbermen. Now about getting home. You see, ma'am,
+some of the boys are riding down that way"--he jerked his thumb to
+indicate the last flight of the imperfectly gentle horse--"and they're
+right apt to see my runaway eohippus and sure to see the rope-drag; so
+they'll likely amble along the back track to see how much who's hurt.
+So I guess I'd better stay here. They may be along most any time. Thank
+you kindly, just the same. Of course, if they don't come at all----Is
+your camp far?"
+
+"Not--not very," said Ellinor. The mere fact was that Miss Ellinor
+had set out ostensibly for a sketching expedition with another girl,
+had turned aside to explore, and exploring had fetched a circuit that
+had left her much closer to her starting-place than to her goal. He
+misinterpreted the slight hesitation.
+
+"Well, ma'am, thank you again; but I mustn't be keeping you longer.
+I really ought to see you safe back to your camp; but--you'll
+understand--under the circumstances--you'll excuse me?"
+
+He did not want to implicate Mr. Lake, so he took a limping step
+forward to justify his rudeness.
+
+"And you hardly able to walk? Ridiculous! What I ought to do is to go
+back to camp and get some one--get Mr. White to help you." Thus, at
+once accepting his unspoken explanation, and offering her own apology
+in turn, she threw aside the air of guarded hostility that had marked
+the last minutes and threw herself anew into this joyous adventure.
+"When--or if--your friends find you, won't it hurt you to ride?" she
+asked, and smiled deliberate encouragement.
+
+"I can be as modest as anybody when there's anything to be modest
+about; but in this case I guess I'll now declare that I can ride
+anything that a saddle will stay on.... I reckon," he added
+reflectively, "the boys'll have right smart to say about me being
+throwed."
+
+"But you weren't thrown! You rode magnificently!" Her eyes flashed
+admiration.
+
+"Yes'm. That's what I hoped you'd say," said the admired one
+complacently. "Go on, ma'am. Say it again."
+
+"It was splendid! The saddle turned--that's all!"
+
+He slowly surveyed the scene of his late exploit.
+
+"Ye--es, that was some riding--for a while," he admitted. "But you see,
+that saddle now, scarred up that way--why, they'll think the eohippus
+wasted me and then dragged the saddle off under a tree. Leastways,
+they'll say they think so, frequent. Best not to let on and to make no
+excuses. It'll be easier that way. We're great on guying here. That's
+most all the fun we have. We sure got this joshing game down fine. Just
+wondering what all the boys'd say--that was why I didn't get out of the
+water at first, before--before I thought I was asleep, you know."
+
+"So you'll actually tell a lie to keep from being thought a liar? I'm
+disappointed in you."
+
+"Why, ma'am, I won't say anything. They'll do the talking."
+
+"It'll be deceitful, just the same," she began, and checked herself
+suddenly. A small twinge struck her at the thought of poor Maud, really
+sketching on Thumb Butte, and now disconsolately wondering what had
+become of lunch and fellow-artist; but she quelled this pang with a
+sage thought of the greatest good to the greatest number, and clapped
+her hands in delight. "Oh, what a silly I am, to be sure! I've got a
+lunch basket up there, but I forgot all about it in the excitement.
+I'm sure there's plenty for two. Shall I bring it down to you or can
+you climb up if I help you? There's water in the canteen--and it's
+beautiful up there."
+
+"I can make it, I guess," said the invited guest--the consummate and
+unblushing hypocrite. Make it he did, with her strong hand to aid; and
+the glen rang to the laughter of them. While behind them, all unnoted,
+Johnny Dines reined up on the hillside; took one sweeping glance at
+that joyous progress, the scarred hillside, the saddle and the dejected
+eohippus in the background; grinned comprehension, and discreetly
+withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III
+
+                            MAXWELTON BRAES
+
+    "Oh the song--the song in the blood!
+    Magic walks the forest; there's bewitchment on the air--
+    Spring is at the flood!"
+
+    --_The Gypsy Heart._
+
+
+    "Well, sir, this here feller, he lit a cigarette an' throwed away
+    the match, an' it fell in a powder kaig; an' do you know, more'n
+    half that powder burned up before they could put it out! Yes,
+    sir!"--WILDCAT THOMPSON.
+
+
+Ellinor opened her basket and spread its tempting wares with pretty
+hostly care--or is there such a word as hostessly?
+
+"There! All ready, Mr.----I declare, this is too absurd! We don't even
+know each other's names!" Her conscious eye fell upon the ampleness
+of the feast--amazing, since it purported to have been put up for one
+alone; and her face lit up with mischievous delight. She curtsied. "If
+you please, I'm the Ultimate Consumer!"
+
+He rose, bowing gravely.
+
+"I am the Personal Devil. Glad to meet you."
+
+"Oh! I've heard of you!" remarked the Ultimate Consumer sweetly. She
+sat down and extended her hand across the spotless linen. "Mr. Lake
+says----"
+
+The Personal Devil flushed. It was not because of the proffered hand,
+which he took unhesitatingly and held rather firmly. The blush was
+unmistakably caused by anger.
+
+"There is no connection whatever," he stated, grimly enough, "between
+the truth and Mr. Lake's organs of speech."
+
+"Oh!" cried the Ultimate Consumer triumphantly. "So you're Mr. Beebe?"
+
+"Bransford--Jeff Bransford," corrected the Personal Devil crustily. He
+wilfully relapsed to his former slipshod speech. "Beebe, he's gone to
+the Pecos work, him and Ballinger. Mr. John Wesley Also-Ran Pringle's
+gone to Old Mexico to bring back another bunch of black, long-horned
+Chihuahuas. You now behold before you the last remaining Rose of
+Rosebud. But, why Beebe?"
+
+"Why does Mr. Lake hate all of you so, Mr. Bransford?"
+
+"Because we are infamous scoundrels. Why Beebe?"
+
+"I can't eat with one hand, Mr. Bransford," she said demurely. He
+looked at the prisoned hand with a start and released it grudgingly.
+"Help yourself," said his hostess cheerfully. "There's sandwiches, and
+roast beef and olives, for a mild beginning."
+
+"Why Beebe?" he said doggedly.
+
+"Help yourself to the salad and then please pass it over this way.
+Thank you."
+
+"Why Beebe?"
+
+"Oh, very well then! Because of the little eohippus, you know--and
+other things you said."
+
+"I see!" said the aggrieved Bransford. "Because I'm not from Ohio, like
+Beebe, I'm not supposed----"
+
+"Oh, if you're going to be fussy! I'm from California myself, Mr.
+Bransford. Out in the country at that. Don't let's quarrel, please.
+We were having such a lovely time. And I'll tell you a secret. It's
+ungrateful of me, and I ought not to; but I don't care--I don't like
+Mr. Lake much since we came on this trip. And I don't believe----" She
+paused, pinkly conscious of the unconventional statement involved in
+this sudden unbelief.
+
+"----what Lake says about us?" A much-mollified Bransford finished the
+sentence for her.
+
+She nodded. Then, to change the subject:
+
+"You do speak cowboy talk one minute--and all booky, polite and proper
+the next, you know. Why?"
+
+"Bad associations," said Bransford ambiguously. "Also for 'tis my
+nature to, as little dogs they do delight to bark and bite. That beef
+sure tastes like more."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And now you may smoke while I pack up," announced the girl when
+dessert was over, at long last. "And please, there is something I want
+to ask you about. Will you tell me truly?"
+
+"Um--you sing?"
+
+"Yes--a little."
+
+"If you will sing for me afterward?"
+
+"Certainly. With pleasure."
+
+"All right, then. What's the story about?"
+
+Ellinor gave him her eyes. "Did you rob the post-office at
+Escondido--really?"
+
+Now it might well be embarrassing to be asked if you had committed a
+felony; but there was that behind the words of this naïve query--in
+look, in tone, in mental attitude--an unflinching and implicit faith
+that, since he had seen fit to do this thing, it must needs have been
+the right and wise thing to do, which stirred the felon's pulses to
+a pleasant flutter and caused a certain tough and powerful muscle to
+thump foolishly at his ribs. The delicious intimacy, the baseless
+faith, was sweet to him.
+
+"Sure, I did!" he answered lightly. "Lake is one talkative little man,
+isn't he? Fie, fie! But, shucks! What can you expect? 'The beast will
+do after his kind.'"
+
+"And you'll tell me about it?"
+
+"After I smoke. Got to study up some plausible excuses, you know."
+
+She studied him as she packed. It was a good face--lined, strong,
+expressive, vivid; gay, resolute, confident, alert--reckless,
+perhaps. There were lines of it disused, fallen to abeyance. What was
+well with the man had prospered; what was ill with him had faded and
+dimmed. He was not a young man--thirty-seven, thirty-eight--(she was
+twenty-four)--but there was an unquenchable boyishness about him,
+despite the few frosty hairs at his temples. He bore his hard years
+jauntily: youth danced in his eyes. The explorer nodded to herself,
+well pleased. He was interesting--different.
+
+The tale suffered from Bransford's telling, as any tale will suffer
+when marred by the inevitable, barbarous modesty of its hero. It was a
+long story, cozily confidential; and there were interruptions. The sun
+was low ere it was done.
+
+"Now the song," said Jeff, "and then----" He did not complete the
+sentence; his face clouded.
+
+"What shall I sing?"
+
+"How can I tell? What you will. What can I know about good songs--or
+anything else?" responded Bransford in sudden moodiness and
+dejection--for, after the song, the end of everything! He flinched at
+the premonition of irrevocable loss.
+
+The girl made no answer. This is what she sang. No; you shall not be
+told of her voice. Perhaps there is a voice that you remember, that
+echoes to you through the dusty years. How would you like to describe
+that?
+
+    "Oh, Sandy has monie and Sandy has land,
+    And Sandy has housen, sae fine and sae grand--
+    But I'd rather hae Jamie, wi' nocht in his hand,
+    Than Sandy, wi' all of his housen and land.
+
+    "My father looks sulky; my mither looks soor;
+    They gloom upon Jamie because he is poor.
+    I lo'e them baith dearly, as a docther should do;
+    But I lo'e them not half sae weel, dear Jamie, as you!
+
+    "I sit at my cribbie, I spin at my wheel;
+    I think o' the laddie that lo'es me sae weel.
+    Oh, he had but a saxpence, he brak it in twa,
+    And he gied me the half o't ere he gaed awa'!
+
+    "He said: 'Lo'e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa'!'
+    He said: 'Lo'e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa'!'
+    Bland simmer is cooming; cauld winter's awa',
+    And I'll wed wi' Jamie in spite o' them a'!"
+
+Jeff's back was to a tree, his hat over his eyes. He pushed it up.
+
+"Thank you," he said; and then, quite directly: "Are you rich?"
+
+"Not--very," said Ellinor, a little breathless at the blunt query.
+
+"I'm going to be rich," said Jeff steadily.
+
+"'I'm going to be a horse,' quoth the little eohippus." The girl
+retorted saucily, though secretly alarmed at the import of this
+examination.
+
+"Ex-actly. So that's settled. What is your name?"
+
+"Hoffman."
+
+"Where do you live, Hoffman?"
+
+"Ellinor," supplemented the girl.
+
+"Ellinor, then. Where do you live, Ellinor?"
+
+"In New York--just now. Not in town. Upstate. On a farm. You see,
+grandfather's growing old--and he wanted father to come back."
+
+"New York's not far," said Jeff.
+
+A sudden panic seized the girl. What next? In swift, instinctive
+self-defense she rose and tripped to the tree where lay her neglected
+sketch-book, bent over--and started back with a little cry of alarm.
+With a spring and a rush, Jeff was at her side, caught her up and
+glared watchfully at bush and shrub and tufted grass.
+
+"Mr. Bransford! Put me down!"
+
+"What was it? A rattlesnake?"
+
+"A snake? What an idea! I just noticed how late it was. I must go."
+
+Crestfallen, sheepishly, Mr. Bransford put her down, thrust his hands
+into his pockets, tilted his chin and whistled an aggravating little
+trill from the Rye twostep.
+
+"Mr. Bransford!" said Ellinor haughtily.
+
+Mr. Bransford's face expressed patient attention.
+
+"Are you lame?"
+
+Mr. Bransford's eye estimated the distance covered during the recent
+snake episode, and then gave to Miss Hoffman a look of profound
+respect. His shoulders humped up slightly; his head bowed to the
+stroke: he stood upon one foot and traced the Rainbow brand in the dust
+with the other.
+
+"I told you all along I wasn't hurt," he said aggrieved. "Didn't I,
+now?"
+
+"Are you lame?" she repeated severely, ignoring his truthful saying.
+
+"'Not--very.'" The quotation marks were clearly audible.
+
+"Are you lame at all?"
+
+"No, ma'am--not what you might call really lame. Uh--no, ma'am."
+
+"And you deceived me like that!" Indignation checked her. "Oh, I am so
+disappointed in you! That was a fine, manly thing for you to do!"
+
+"It was such a lovely time," observed the culprit doggedly. "And such a
+chance might never happen again. And it isn't my fault I wasn't hurt,
+you know. I'm sure I wish I was."
+
+She gave him an icy glare.
+
+"Now see what you've done! Your men haven't come and you won't stay
+with Mr. Lake. How are you going to get home? Oh, I forgot--you can
+walk, as you should have done at first."
+
+The guilty wretch wilted yet further. He shuffled his feet; he
+writhed; he positively squirmed. He ventured a timid upward glance. It
+seemed to give him courage. Prompted, doubtless, by the same feeling
+which drives one to dive headlong into dreaded cold water, he said, in
+a burst of candor:
+
+"Well, you see, ma'am, that little horse now--he really ain't got far.
+He got tangled up over there a ways----"
+
+The girl wheeled and shot a swift, startled glance at the little
+eohippus on the hillside, who had long since given over his futile
+struggles and was now nibbling grass with becoming resignation. She
+turned back to Bransford. Slowly, scathingly, she looked him over
+from head to foot and slowly back again. Her expression ran the
+gamut--wonder, anger, scorn, withering contempt.
+
+"I think I hate you!" she flamed at him.
+
+Amazement triumphed over the other emotions then--a real amazement: the
+detected impostor had resumed his former debonair bearing and met her
+scornful eye with a slow and provoking smile.
+
+"Oh, no, you don't," he said reassuringly. "On the contrary, you don't
+hate me at all!"
+
+"I'm going home, anyhow," she retorted bitterly. "You may draw your own
+conclusions."
+
+Still, she did not go, which possibly had a confusing effect upon his
+inferences.
+
+"Just one minute, ma'am, if you please. How did you know so pat where
+the little black horse was? _I_ didn't tell you."
+
+Little waves of scarlet followed each other to her burning face.
+
+"I'm not going to stay another moment. You're detestable! And it's
+nearly sundown."
+
+"Oh, you needn't hurry. It's not far."
+
+She followed his gesture. To her intense mortification she saw the blue
+smoke of her home campfire flaunting up from a gully not half a mile
+away. It was her turn to droop now. She drooped.
+
+There was a painful silence. Then, in a far-off, hard, judicial tone:
+
+"How long, ma'am, if I may ask, have you known that the little black
+horse was tangled up?"
+
+Miss Ellinor's eyes shifted wildly. She broke a twig from a mahogany
+bush and examined the swelling buds with minutest care.
+
+"Well?" said her ruthless inquisitor sternly.
+
+"Since--since I went for your hat," she confessed in a half whisper.
+
+"To deceive me so!" Pain, grief, surprise, reproach, were in his words.
+"Have you anything to say?" he added sadly.
+
+A slender shoe peeped out beneath her denim skirt and tapped on
+a buried boulder. Ellinor regarded the toetip with interest and
+curiosity. Then, half-audibly:
+
+"We were having such a good time.... And it might never happen again!"
+
+He captured both her hands. She drew back a little--ever so little; she
+trembled slightly, but her eyes met his frankly and bravely.
+
+"No, no!... Not now.... Go, now, Mr. Bransford. Go at once. We will
+have a pleasant day to remember."
+
+"Until the next pleasant day," said resolute Bransford, openly
+exultant. "But see here, now--I can't go to Lake's camp or to Lake's
+ball"--here Miss Ellinor pouted distinctly--"or anything that is
+Lake's. After your masked ball, then what?"
+
+"New York; but it's only so far--on the map." She held her hands apart
+very slightly to indicate the distance. "On a little map, that is."
+
+"I'll drop in Saturdays," said Jeff.
+
+"Do! I want to hear you sing the rest about the little eohippus."
+
+"If you'll sing about Sandy!" suggested Jeff.
+
+"Why not? Good-by now--I must go."
+
+"And you won't sing about Sandy to any one else?"
+
+The girl considered doubtfully.
+
+"Why--I don't know--I've known you for a very little while, if you
+please." She gathered up her belongings. "But we're friends?"
+
+"_No! No!_" said Jeff vehemently. "You won't sing it to any one
+else--Ellinor?"
+
+She drew a line in the dust.
+
+"If you won't cross that line," she said, "I'll tell you."
+
+Mr. Bransford grasped a sapling with a firm clutch and shook it to try
+its strength.
+
+"A bird in the bush is the noblest work of God," he announced. "I'll
+take a chance."
+
+Her eyes were shining.
+
+"You've promised!" she said. She paused: when she spoke again her voice
+was low and a trifle unsteady. "I won't sing about Sandy to--any one
+else--Jeff!"
+
+Then she fled.
+
+Like Lot's wife, she looked back from the hillside. Jeff clung
+desperately to the sapling with one hand; from the other a
+handkerchief--hers--fluttered a good-by message. She threw him a
+farewell, with an ambiguous gesture.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was late when Jeff reached Rosebud Camp. He unsaddled Nigger Baby,
+the little and not entirely gentle black horse, rather unobtrusively;
+but Johnny Dines sauntered out during the process, announcing supper.
+
+"Huh!" sniffed Jeff. "S'pose I thought you'd wait until I come to get
+it?"
+
+Nothing more alarming than tallies was broached during supper, however.
+Afterward, Johnny tilted his chair back and, through cigarette smoke,
+contemplated the ceiling with innocent eyes.
+
+"Nigger Babe looks drawed," he suggested.
+
+"Uh-huh. Had one of them poor spells of his."
+
+Puff, puff.
+
+"Your saddle's skinned up a heap."
+
+"Run under a tree."
+
+Johnny's look of innocence grew more pronounced.
+
+"How'd you get your clothes so wet?"
+
+"Rain," said Jeff.
+
+Puff, puff.
+
+"You look right muddy too."
+
+"Dust in the air," said Jeff.
+
+"Ah!--yes." Silence during the rolling of another cigarette. Then:
+"How'd you get that cut on your head?"
+
+Jeff's hand went to his head and felt the bump there. He regarded his
+fingers in some perplexity.
+
+"That? Oh, that's where I bit myself!" He stalked off to bed in gloomy
+dignity.
+
+Half an hour later Johnny called softly:
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+Jeff grunted sulkily.
+
+"Camping party down near Mayhill. Lot o' girls. I saw one of 'em. Young
+person with eyes and hair."
+
+Jeff grunted again. There was a long silence.
+
+"Nice bear!" There was no answer.
+
+"_Good_ old bear!" said Johnny tearfully. No answer. "Mister Bear, if I
+give you one nice, good, juicy bite----"
+
+"_U--ugg--rrh!_" said Jeff.
+
+"Then," said Johnny decidedly, "I'll sleep in the yard."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                           THE ROAD TO ROME
+
+    "Behold, one journeyed in the night.
+    He sang amid the wind and rain;
+    My wet sands gave his feet delight--
+    When will that traveler come again?"
+
+                  --_The Heart of the Road_,
+                    ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH.
+
+
+A hypotenuse, as has been well said, is the longest side of a
+right-angled triangle. There is no need for details. That we are
+all familiar with the use of this handy little article is shown by
+the existence of shortcuts at every available opportunity, and by
+keep-off-o'-the-grass signs in parks.
+
+Now, had Jeff Bransford desired to go to Arcadia--to that masquerade,
+for instance--his direct route from Jackson's Ranch would have been
+cater-cornered across the desert, as has been amply demonstrated by
+Pythagoras and others.
+
+That Jeff did not want to go to Arcadia--to the masked ball, for
+instance--is made apparent by the fact that the afternoon preceding
+said ball saw him jogging southward toward Baird's, along the lonely
+base of that inveterate triangle whereof Jackson's, Baird's and
+Arcadia are the respective corners, leaving the fifty-five-mile
+hypotenuse far to his left. It was also obvious from the tenor of his
+occasional self-communings.
+
+"I don't want to make a bally fool of myself--do I, old Grasshopper?
+Anyhow, you'll be too tired when we get to 'Gene's."
+
+Grasshopper made no response, other than a plucky tossing of his bit
+and a quickening cadence in his rhythmical stride, by way of pardonable
+bravado.
+
+"I never forced myself in where my company wasn't wanted yet, and I
+ain't going to begin now," asserted Jeff stoutly; adding, as a fervent
+afterthought: "Damn Lake!"
+
+His way lay along the plain, paralleling the long westward range,
+just far enough out to dodge the jutting foothills; through bare
+white levels where Grasshopper's hoofs left but a faint trace on the
+hard-glazed earth. At intervals, tempting cross-roads branched away
+to mountain springs. The cottonwood at Independent Springs came into
+view round the granite shoulder of Strawberry, six miles to the right
+of him. He roused himself from prolonged pondering of the marvelous
+silhouette, where San Andres unflung in broken masses against the sky,
+to remark in a hushed whisper:
+
+"I wonder if she'd be glad to see me?"
+
+Several miles later he quoted musingly:
+
+    "For Ellinor--her Christian name was Ellinor--
+    Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her!"
+
+After all, there are problems which Pythagoras never solved.
+
+The longest road must have an end. Ritch's Ranch was passed far to
+the right, lying low in the long shadow of Kaylor; then the mouth of
+Hembrillo Cañon; far ahead, a shifting flicker of Baird's windmill
+topped the brush. It grew taller; the upper tower took shape. He dipped
+into the low, mirage-haunted basin, where the age-old Texas Trail
+crosses the narrow western corner of the White Sands. When he emerged
+the windmill was tall and silver-shining; the low iron roofs of the
+house gloomed sullen in the sun.
+
+Dust rose from the corral. Now Jeff's ostensible errand to the
+West Side had been the search for strays; three days before he had
+prudently been three days' ride farther to the north. The reluctance
+with which he had turned back southward was justified by the fact
+that this critical afternoon found him within striking distance of
+Arcadia--striking distance, that is, should he care for a bit of hard
+riding. This was exactly what Jeff had fought against all along. So,
+when he saw the dust, he loped up.
+
+It was as he had feared. A band of horses was in the waterpen;
+among them a red-roan head he knew--Copperhead, of Pringle's mount;
+confirmed runaway. Jeff shut the gate. For the first time that day, he
+permitted himself a discreet glance eastward to Arcadia.
+
+"Three days," he said bitterly, while Grasshopper thrust his eager
+muzzle into the water-trough--"three days I have braced back my feet
+and slid, like a yearlin' at a brandin' bee--and look at me now! Oh,
+Copperhead, you darned old fool, see what you done now!"
+
+In this morose mood he went to the house. There was no one at home. A
+note was tacked on the door.
+
+    Gone to Plomo. Back in two or three days. Beef hangs under platform
+    on windmill tower. When you get it, oil the mill. Books and deck of
+    cards in box under bed. Don't leave fire in stove when you go.
+
+                                                            GENE BAIRD.
+
+    N. B.--Feed the cat.
+
+Jeff built a fire in the stove and unsaddled the weary Grasshopper.
+He found some corn, which he put into a woven-grass _morral_ and hung
+on Grasshopper's nose. He went to the waterpen, roped out Copperhead
+and shut him in a side corral. Then he let the bunch go. They strained
+through the gate in a mad run, despite shrill and frantic remonstrance
+from Copperhead.
+
+"Jeff," said Jeff soberly, "are you going to be a damned fool all your
+life? That girl doesn't care anything about you. She hasn't thought of
+you since. You stay right here and read the pretty books. That's the
+place for you."
+
+This advice was sound and wise beyond cavil. So Jeff took it valiantly.
+After supper he hobbled Grasshopper and took off the nosebag. Then he
+went to the back room in pursuit of literature.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Have I leave for a slight digression, to commit a long-delayed act of
+justice--to correct a grievous wrong? Thank you.
+
+We hear much of Mr. Andrew Carnegie and His Libraries, the Hall
+of Fame, the Little Red Schoolhouse, the Five-Foot Shelf, and the
+World's Best Books. A singular thing is that the most effective bit
+of philanthropy along these lines has gone unrecorded of a thankless
+world. This shall no longer be.
+
+Know, then, that once upon a time a certain soulless corporation,
+rather in the tobacco trade, placed in each package of tobacco a
+coupon, each coupon redeemable by one paper-bound book. Whether they
+were moved by remorse to this action or by sordid hidden purposes
+of their own, or, again, by pure, disinterested and farseeing love
+of their kind, is not yet known; but the results remain. There
+were three hundred and three volumes on that list, mostly--but not
+altogether--fiction. And each one was a classic. Classics are cheap.
+They are not copyrighted. Could I but know the anonymous benefactor
+who enrolled that glorious company, how gladly would I drop a leaf on
+his bier or a cherry in his bitters!
+
+Thus it was that, in one brief decade, the cowboys, with others, became
+comparatively literate. Cowboys all smoked. Doubtless that was a chief
+cause contributory to making them the wrecks they were. It destroyed
+their physique; it corroded and ate away their will power--leaving them
+seldom able to work over nineteen hours a day, except in emergencies;
+prone to abandon duty in the face of difficulty or danger, when human
+effort, raised to the _n_th power, could do no more--all things
+considered, the most efficient men of their hands on record.
+
+Cowboys all smoked: and the most deep-seated instinct of the human race
+is to get something for nothing. They got those books. In due course of
+time they read those books. Some were slow to take to it; but when you
+stay at lonely ranches, when you are left afoot until the waterholes
+dry up, so you may catch a horse in the waterpen--why, you must do
+something. The books were read. Then, having acquired the habit,
+they bought more books. Since the three hundred and three were all
+real books, and since the cowboys had been previously uncorrupted of
+predigested or sterilized fiction, or by "gift," "uplift" and "helpful"
+books, their composite taste had become surprisingly good, and they
+bought with discriminating care. Nay, more. A bookcase follows books; a
+bookcase demands a house; a house needs a keeper; a housekeeper needs
+everything. Hence alfalfa--houseplants--slotless tables--bankbooks.
+The chain which began with yellow coupons ends with Christmas trees.
+In some proudest niche in the Hall of Fame a grateful nation will yet
+honor that hitherto unrecognized educator, Front de Bœuf.[1]
+
+[Footnote 1: "_Bull Durham._"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jeff pawed over the tattered yellow-backed volumes in profane
+discontent. He had read them all. Another box was under the bed, behind
+the first. Opening it, he saw a tangled mass of clothing, tumbled in
+the bachelor manner; with the rest, a much-used football outfit--canvas
+jacket, sweater, padded trousers, woolen stockings, rubber noseguard,
+shinguards, ribbed shoes--all complete; for 'Gene Baird was fullback of
+the El Paso eleven.
+
+Jeff segregated the gridiron wardrobe with hasty hands. His eye
+brightened; he spoke in an awed and almost reverent voice.
+
+"I ain't mostly superstitious, but this looks like a leading. First,
+I'm here; second, Copperhead's here; third, no one else is here; and,
+for the final miracle, here's a costume made to my hand. Thirty-five
+miles. Ten o'clock, if I hurry. H'm! 'When first I put this uniform
+on'--how did that go? I'm forgetting all my songs. Getting old, I
+guess."
+
+Rejecting the heavy shoes, as unmeet for waxed floors, and the
+shinguards, he rolled the rest of the uniform in his slicker and tied
+it behind his saddle. Then he rubbed his chin.
+
+"Huh! That's a true saying, too. I am getting old. Youth turns to
+youth. Buck up, Jeff, you old fool! Have some pride about you and just
+a little old horse-sense."
+
+Yet he unhobbled Grasshopper, who might then be trusted to find his way
+to Rainbow in about three days. He went to the corral and tossed a rope
+on snorting Copperhead. "No; I won't go!" he said, as he slipped on the
+bridle. "Just to uncock old Copperhead, I'll make a little horse-ride
+to Hospital Springs and look through the stock." He threw on the saddle
+with some difficulty--Copperhead was fat and frisky. "She don't want to
+see you, Jeff--an old has-been like you! No, no; I'd better not go. I
+won't! There, if I didn't leave that football stuff on the saddle! I'll
+take it off. It might get lost. Whoa, Copperhead!"
+
+Copperhead, however, declined to whoa on any terms. His eyes bulged
+out; he reared, he pawed, he snorted, he bucked, he squealed, he did
+anything but whoa. Exasperated, Jeff caught the bridle by the cheek
+piece and swung into the saddle. After a few preliminaries in the
+pitching line, Jeff started bravely for Hospital Springs.
+
+It was destined that this act of renunciation should be thwarted.
+Copperhead stopped and dug his feet in the ground as if about to take
+root. Jeff dug the spurs home. With an agonized bawl, Copperhead made a
+creditable ascension, shook himself and swapped ends before he hit the
+ground again. "_Wooh!_" he said. His nose was headed now for Arcadia;
+he followed his nose, his roan flanks fanned vigorously with a doubled
+rope.
+
+"Headstrong, stubborn, unmanageable brute! Oh, well, have it your own
+way then, you old fool! You'll be sorry!" Copperhead leaped out to the
+loosened rein. "This is just plain kidnapping!" said Jeff.
+
+Kidnapped and kidnapper were far out on the plain as night came on.
+Arcadia road stretched dimly to the east; the far lights of La Luz
+flashed through the leftward dusk; straight before them was a glint
+and sparkle in the sky, faint, diffused, wavering; beyond, a warm and
+mellow glow broke the blackness of the mountain wall, where the lights
+of low-hidden Arcadia beat up against Rainbow Rim.
+
+Jeff was past his first vexation; he sang as he rode:
+
+    "There was ink on her thumb when I kissed her hand,
+      And she whispered: 'If you should die
+    I'd write you an epitaph, gloomy and grand!'
+      'Time enough for that!' says I.
+
+"Keep a-movin here, Copperhead! Time fugits right along. You will play
+hooky, will you? 'I'm going to be a horse!'"
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V
+
+                              THE MASKERS
+
+    "For Ellinor (her Christian name was Ellinor)
+    Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her."
+
+                                     --RICHARD HOVEY.
+
+
+It lacked little of the eleventh hour when the football player reached
+the ballroom--last comer to the revels. A bandage round his head and
+a rubber noseguard, which also hid his mouth, served for a mask, eked
+out by crisscrossed strips of courtplaster. One arm was in a sling--for
+stage purposes only.
+
+As he limped through the door, Diogenes hurried to meet him, held up
+his lantern, peered hopefully into the battered face and shook his
+disappointed head. "Stung again!" muttered Diogenes.
+
+Jeff lisped in numbers which fully verified the cynic's misgiving.
+"7--11--4--11--44!" he announced jerkily. This was strictly in
+character and also excused him from entangling talk, leaving him free
+to search the whirl of dancers.
+
+A bulky Rough Rider volunteered his help. He fixed a gleaming eyeglass
+on his nose and politely offered Jeff a Big Stick by way of a
+crutch. "Hit the line hard!" he barked. He bit the words off with a
+prize-bulldog effect. He had fine teeth.
+
+Jeff waved him off. "16--2--1!" he proclaimed controversially. He felt
+his spirits sinking, with a growing doubt of his ability to identify
+the Only One, and was impatient of interruption. He kept his slow and
+watchful way down the floor.
+
+Topsy broke away from her partner and stopped Jeff's crippled progress.
+Her short hair, braided to a dozen tight and tiny pigtails, bristled
+away in all directions.
+
+"Laws, young marsta', you suhtenly does look puny!" she said. Then she
+clutched at her knee. "_Aie!_" she tittered, as a loose red stocking
+dropped flappingly to her ankle. Pray do not be shocked. The effect
+was startling; but a black stocking, decorously tight and smooth, was
+beneath the red one. Jeff's mathematics were not equal to the strain
+of adequate comment. Topsy dived to the rescue. "Got a string?" she
+giggled, as she hitched the fallen stocking back to place. "I cain't
+fix this good nohow!"
+
+Jeff jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Man over there with an
+eyeglass cord--maybe you can get that. What makes you act so?" He
+looked cold disapproval; nevertheless, he looked.
+
+Topsy hung her head, still clutching at the stocking-top. "Dunno. I
+spec's it's 'cause Ise so wicked!" Finger in mouth, she looked after
+Jeff as he hobbled away.
+
+A slender witch bounced from a chair and barred his way with a broom.
+Her eyes were brimming sorcery; her lips looked saucy challenge; she
+leaned close for a whispered word in his ear: "How would you like to
+tackle me?"
+
+Poor Jeff! "10, 2--10, 2!" he promised huskily. Yet he ducked beneath
+the broom.
+
+"But," said the little witch plaintively, "you're going away!" She
+dropped her broom and wept.
+
+"8, 2--8, 2--8, 2!" said Jeff, almost in tears himself, and again fell
+back upon English. "Mere figures or mere words can't tell you how much
+I hate to; but I've got to follow the ball. I'm looking for a fellow."
+
+"If he--if he doesn't love you," sobbed the stricken witch, "then
+you'll come back to me--won't you? I love a liar!"
+
+"To the very stake!" vowed Jeff. Such heroic, if conditional, constancy
+was not to go unrewarded. A couple detached themselves from the
+dancers, threaded their way to a corner of the long hall and stood
+there in deep converse. Jeff quickened pulse and pace--for one was a
+Red Devil and the other wore the soft gray costume of a Friend. She
+was tall, this Quakeress, and the hobnobbing devil was of Jeff's own
+height. Jeff began to hope for a goal.
+
+Briskly limping, he came to this engrossed couple and laid a friendly
+hand on the devil's shoulder.
+
+"Brother," he said cordially, "will you please go to--home?"
+
+The devil recoiled an astonished step.
+
+"What? What!! Show me your license!"
+
+"Twenty-three!--Please!--there's a good devil--23! I'm the right guard
+for this lady, I hope. Oh, please to go home!"
+
+The devil took this request in very bad part.
+
+"Go back fifteen yards for offside play and take a drop kick at
+yourself!" he suggested sourly.
+
+A burly policeman, plainly conscious of fitting his uniform, paused for
+warning.
+
+"No scrappin' now! Don't start nothin' or I'll run in the t'ree av
+yees!" he said, and sauntered on, twirling a graceful nightstick.
+
+"Thee is a local man, judging from thy letters," said the Quaker lady,
+to relieve the somewhat strained situation. "What do they stand for? E.
+P.? Oh, yes--El Paso, of course!"
+
+"I saw you first!" said the Red Devil. "And with your disposition you
+would naturally find me more suitable. Make your choice of gridirons!
+Send him back to the side lines! Disqualify him for interference!"
+
+"Don't be hurried into a decision," said Jeff. "Eternity is a good
+while. Before it's over I'm going to be a--well, something more than a
+footballer. Golf, maybe--or tiddledywinks."
+
+The Quakeress glanced attentively from one to the other.
+
+"Doubtless he will do his best to forward Thy Majesty's interests," she
+interposed. "Why not give him a chance?"
+
+The devil shrugged his shoulders. "I always prefer to give this branch
+of work my personal attention," he said stiffly.
+
+"A specialty of thine?" mocked the girl.
+
+The devil bowed sulkily.
+
+"My heart is in it. Of course, if you prefer the bungling of a novice,
+there is no more to be said."
+
+"Thy Majesty's manners have never been questioned," murmured the
+Quakeress, bowing dismissal. "So kind of you!"
+
+The devil bowed deeply and turned, pausing to hurl a gloomy prophecy
+over his shoulder. "See you later!" he said, and stalked away with an
+ill grace.
+
+Pigskin hero and girl Friend, left alone, eyed each other with mutual
+apprehension. The girl Friend was first to recover speech. Her red lips
+were prim below her vizor, her eyes downcast to hide their dancing
+lights. Timidly she spread out fanwise the dove color of her sober
+costume.
+
+"How does thee like my gray gown?"
+
+"Not at all," said Jeff brutally. "You're no friend of mine, I hope."
+
+A most un-Quakerlike dimple trembled to her chin, relieving the firm
+austerity of straight lips. Also, Jeff caught a glimpse of her eyes
+through the vizor. They were crinkling--and they were brown. She
+ventured another tentative remark, and there was in it an undertone
+lingering, softly confidential.
+
+"Is thee lame?"
+
+"Not--very," said Jeff, and saw a faint color start to the unmasked
+moiety of the Quaker cheek. "Still, if I may have the next dance, I
+shall be glad if you will sit it out with me." Painfully he raised the
+beslinged arm in explanation. _Sobre las Olas_ throbbed out its wistful
+call; they set their thought to its haunting measure.
+
+"By all means!" She took his undamaged arm. "Let us find chairs."
+
+Now there were chairs to the left of them, chairs to the right of them,
+chairs vacant everywhere; but the gallant Six Hundred themselves were
+not more heedless or undismayed than these two. Still, all the world
+did not wonder. On the contrary, not even the anxious devil saw them
+after they passed behind a knot of would-be dancers who were striving
+to disentangle themselves. For, seeing traffic thus blocked, the
+policeman rushed to unsnarl the tangle. Magnificently he flourished his
+stick. He adjured them roughly: "Move on, yous! Move on!" Whereat,
+with one impulse, the tangle moved on the copper, swept over him,
+engulfed him, hustled him to the door and threw him out.
+
+So screened, the chair-hunters vanished in far less than a
+psychological moment: for Jeff, in obedience to a faint or fancied
+pressure on his arm, dived through portières into a small room set
+apart for such as had the heart to prefer cards or chess. The room was
+deserted now and there was a broad window open to the night. Thus,
+thrice favored of Providence, they found themselves in the garden,
+chairless but cheerful.
+
+A garden with one Eve is the perfect combination in a world awry.
+Muffled, the music and the sounds of the ballroom came faint and far
+to them; star-made shadows danced at their feet. The girl paused,
+expectant; but it was the unexpected that happened. The nimble tongue
+which had done such faithful service for Mr. Bransford now failed him
+quite: left him struggling, dumb, inarticulate, helpless--tongue and
+hand alike forgetful of their cunning.
+
+Be sure the maid had adroitly heard much of Mr. Bransford, his deeds
+and misdeeds, during the tedious interval since their first meeting.
+Report had dwelt lovingly upon Mr. Bransford's eloquence at need. This
+awkward silence was a tribute of sincerity above question.
+
+With difficulty Ellinor mastered a wild desire to ask where the
+cat had gone. "Oh, come ye in peace here or come ye in war?" Such
+injudicious quotation trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she
+suppressed it--barely in time. She felt herself growing nervous with
+the fear lest she should be hurried into some all too luminous speech.
+And still Jeff stood there, lost, speechless, helpless, unready, a
+clumsy oaf, an object of pity. Pity at last, or a kindred feeling,
+drove her to the rescue. And, just as she had feared, she said, in her
+generous haste, far too much.
+
+"I thought you were not coming?"
+
+The inflection made a question of this statement. Also, by implication,
+it answered so many questions yet unworded that Jeff was able to use
+his tongue again; but it was not the trusty tongue of yore--witness
+this wooden speech:
+
+"You mean you thought I said I wasn't coming--don't you? You knew I
+would come."
+
+"Indeed? How should I know what you would do? I've only seen you once.
+Aren't you forgetting that?"
+
+"Why else did you make up as a Friend then?"
+
+"Oh! Oh, dear, these men! There's conceit for you! I chose my costume
+solely to trap Mr. Bransford's eye? Is that it? Doubtless all my
+thoughts have centered on Mr. Bransford since I first saw him!"
+
+"You know I didn't mean that, Miss Ellinor. I----"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, if you please!"
+
+"Miss Hoffman. Don't be mean to me. I've only got an hour----"
+
+"An hour! Do you imagine for one second----Why, I mustn't stay here.
+This is really a farewell dance given in my honor. We go back East day
+after to-morrow. I must go in."
+
+"Only one little hour. And I have come a long ways for my hour. They
+take their masks off at midnight--don't they? And of course I can't
+stay after that. I want only just to ask you----"
+
+"Why did you come then? Isn't it rather unusual to go uninvited to a
+ball?"
+
+"Why, I reckon you nearly know why I come, Miss Hoffman; but if you
+want me to say precisely, ma'am----"
+
+"I don't!"
+
+"We'll keep that for a surprise, then. Another thing: I wanted to
+find out just where you live in New York. I forgot to ask you. And I
+couldn't very well go round asking folks after you're gone--could I?
+Of course I didn't have any invitation--from Mr. Lake; but I thought,
+if he didn't know it, he wouldn't mind me just stepping in to get your
+address."
+
+"Well, of all the assurance!" said Miss Ellinor. "Do you intend to
+start up a correspondence with me without even the formality of asking
+my consent?"
+
+"Why, Miss Ellinor, ma'am, I thought----"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, sir! Yes--and there's another thing. You said you had
+no invitation--from Mr. Lake. Does that mean, by any chance, that I
+invited you?"
+
+"You didn't say a word about my coming," said Jeff. He was a flustered
+man, this poor Bransford, but he managed to put a slight stress upon
+the word "say."
+
+Miss Ellinor--Miss Hoffman--caught this faint emphasis instantly.
+
+"Oh, I didn't _say_ anything? I just looked an invitation, I suppose?"
+she stormed. "Melting eyes--and that sort of thing? Tears in them,
+maybe? Poor girl! Poor little child! It would be cruel to let her go
+home without seeing me again. I will give her a little more happiness,
+poor thing, and write to her a while. Maybe it would be wiser, though,
+just to make a quarrel and break loose at once. She'll get over it in a
+little while after she gets back to New York. Well! Upon my word!"
+
+As she advanced these horrible suppositions, Miss Hoffman had marked
+out a short beat of garden path--five steps and a turn; five steps
+back and whirl again--with, on the whole, a caged-tigress effect. With
+a double-quick at each turn to keep his place at her elbow, Jeff,
+utterly aghast at the damnable perversity of everything on earth,
+vainly endeavored to make coördinate and stumbling remonstrance. As
+she stopped for breath, Jeff heard his own voice at last, propounding
+to the world at large a stunned query as to whether the abode of lost
+spirits could afford aught to excel the present situation. The remark
+struck him: he paused to wonder what other things he had been saying.
+
+Miss Ellinor walked her beat, vindictive. Her chin was at an angle of
+complacency. She turned up the perky corners of an imaginary mustache
+with an air, an exasperating little finger, separated from the others,
+pointing upward in hateful self-satisfaction. Her mouth wore a
+gratified masculine smirk, visible even in the starlight; her gait was
+a leisured and lordly strut; her hand waved airy pity. Jeff shrank back
+in horror.
+
+"M-Miss Hoffman, I n-never d-dreamed----"
+
+Miss Hoffman turned upon him swiftly.
+
+"Never have I heard anything like it--never! You bring me out here
+willy-nilly, and by way of entertainment you virtually accuse me of
+throwing myself at your head."
+
+"I never!" said Jeff indignantly. "I didn't----"
+
+Miss Hoffman faced him crouchingly and shook an indictment from her
+fingers.
+
+"First, you imply that I enticed you to come; second, expecting you, I
+dressed to catch your eye; third, I was watching eagerly for you----"
+
+"Come--I say now!" The baited and exasperated victim walked headlong
+into the trap. "The first thing you did was to ask me if I was lame?
+Wasn't that question meant to find out who I was? When I answered,
+'Not--very,' didn't you know at once that it was me?"
+
+"There! That proves exactly what I was just saying," raged the
+delighted trapper. "You don't even deny it! You say in so many words
+that I have been courting you! I had to say something--didn't I? You
+wouldn't! You were limping, so I asked you if you were lame. What
+else could I have said? Did you want me to stand there like a stuffed
+Egyptian mummy? That's the thanks a girl gets for trying to help a
+great, awkward, blundering butter-fingers! Oh, if you could just see
+yourself! The irresistible conqueror! Not altogether unprincipled
+though! You _are_ capable of compunction. I'll give you credit for
+that. Alarmed at your easy success, you try to spare me. It is noble of
+you--noble! You drag me out here, force a quarrel upon me----"
+
+"Oh, by Jove now! Really!" Stung by the poignant injustice of crowding
+events, Jeff took the bit in his teeth and rushed to destruction.
+"Really, you must see yourself that I couldn't drag you out here!
+I have never been in that hall before. I didn't know the lay of
+the ground. I didn't even know that little side room was there. I
+thought you pressed my arm a little----" So the brainless colt, in the
+quicksands, flounders deeper with each effort to extricate himself.
+
+If Miss Hoffman had been angry before she was furious now.
+
+"So _that's_ the way of it? Better and better! _I_ dragged _you_ out!
+Really, Mr. Bransford, I feel that I should take you back to your
+chaperon at once. You might be compromised, you know!"
+
+Goaded to desperation, he acted on this hint at once. He turned, with
+stiff and stilted speech:
+
+"I will take you back to the window, Miss Hoffman. Then there is
+nothing for me to do but go. I am sorry to have caused you even a
+moment's annoyance. To-morrow you will see how you have twisted--I
+mean, how completely you have misinterpreted everything I have
+said. Perhaps some day you may forgive me. Here is the window.
+Good-night--good-by!"
+
+Miss Hoffman lingered, however.
+
+"Of course, if you apologize----"
+
+"I do, Miss Hoffman. I beg your pardon most sincerely for anything I
+have ever said or done that could hurt you in any way."
+
+"If you are sure you are sorry--if you take it all back and will never
+do such a thing again--perhaps I may forgive you."
+
+"I won't--I am--I will!" said the abject and groveling wretch. Which
+was incoherent but pleasing. "I didn't mean anything the way you took
+it; but I'm sorry for everything."
+
+"Then I didn't beguile you to come? Or mask as a Friend in the hope
+that you would identify me?"
+
+"No, no!"
+
+Miss Ellinor pressed her advantage cruelly. "Nor take stock of each new
+masker to see if he possibly wasn't the expected Mr. Bransford? Nor
+drag you into the garden? Nor squeeze your arm?" Her hands went to her
+face, her lissome body shook. "Oh, Mr. Bransford!" she sobbed between
+her fingers. "How could you--how _could_ you say that?"
+
+The clock chimed. A pealing voice beat out into the night: "Masks off!"
+A hundred voices swelled the cry; it was drowned in waves of laughter.
+It rose again tumultuously: "_Masks off! Masks off!_" Nearer came
+hateful voices, too, that cried: "_Ellinor! Ellinor! Where are you?_"
+
+"I must go!" said Jeff. "They'll be looking for you. No; you didn't do
+any of those things. You couldn't do any of those things. Good-by!"
+
+"_Ellinor! Ellinor Hoffman!! Where are you?_"
+
+Miss Hoffman whipped off her mask. From the open window a shaft of
+light fell on her face. It was flushed, sparkling, radiant. "Masks
+off!" she said. "Stupid!... Oh, you great goose! Of course I did!" She
+stepped back into the shadow.
+
+No one, as the copybook says justly, may be always wise. Conversely,
+the most unwise of us blunders sometimes upon the right thing to
+do. With a glimmer of returning intelligence Mr. Bransford laid his
+noseguard on the window-sill.
+
+"_Sir!_" said Ellinor then. "How dare you?" Then she turned the other
+cheek. "Good-by!" she whispered, and fled away to the ballroom.
+
+Mr. Bransford, in the shadows, scratched his head dubiously.
+
+"Her Christian name was Ellinor," he muttered. "Ellinor! H'm--Ellinor!
+Very appropriate name.... Very!... And I don't know yet where she
+lives!"
+
+He wandered disconsolately away to the garden wall, forgetting the
+discarded noseguard.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                          THE ISLE OF ARCADY
+
+    "Then the moon shone out so broad and good
+      That the barn-fowl crowed:
+    And the brown owl called to his mate in the wood
+      _That a dead man lay in the road!_"
+
+                              --WILL WALLACE HARNEY.
+
+
+Arcadia's assets were the railroad, two large modern sawmills, the
+climate and printer's ink. The railroad found it a patch of bare
+ground, six miles from water; put in successively a whistling-post, a
+signboard, a depot, townsite papers and a water-main from the Alamo;
+and, when the townsite papers were confirmed, established machine shops
+and made the new town the division headquarters and base for northward
+building.
+
+The railroad then set up the sawmills, primarily to get out ties
+and timbers for its own lanky growth, and built a spur to bring
+the forest down from Rainbow to the mills. The word "down" is used
+advisedly. Arcadia nestled on the plain under the very eavespouts of
+Rainbow Range. The branch, following with slavish fidelity the lines
+of a twisted corkscrew, took twenty-seven miles, mostly tunnel and
+trestlework, to clamber to the logging camps, with a minimum grade that
+was purely prohibitive and a maximum that I dare not state; but there
+was a rise of six thousand feet in those twenty-seven miles. You can
+figure the average for yourself. And if the engine should run off the
+track at the end of her climb she would light on the very roundhouse
+where she took breakfast, and spoil the shingles.
+
+Yes, that was some railroad. There was a summer hotel--Cloudland--on
+the summit, largely occupied by slackwire performers. Others walked up
+or rode a horse. They used stem-winding engines, with eight vertical
+cylinders on the right side and a shaft like a steamboat, with beveled
+cogwheel transmission on the axles. And they haven't had a wreck on
+that branch to date. No matter how late a train is, when an engine sees
+the tail-lights of her caboose ahead of her she stops and sends out
+flagmen.
+
+The railroad, under the pseudonym of the Arcadia Development Company,
+also laid out streets and laid in a network of pipe-lines, and staked
+out lots until the sawmill protested for lack of tie-lumber. It put
+down miles of cement walks, fringed them with cottonwood saplings,
+telephone poles and electric lights. It built a hotel and a few streets
+of party-colored cottages--directoire, with lingerie tile roofs,
+organdy façades and peplum, intersecting panels and outside chimneys
+at the gable ends. It decreed a park, with nooks, lanes, mazes, lake,
+swans, ballground, grandstand, bandstand and the band appertaining
+there-unto--all of which apparently came into being over night. Then it
+employed a competent staff of word-artists and capitalized the climate.
+
+The result was astonishing. The cottonwoods grew apace and a swift town
+grew with them--swift in every sense of the word. It took good money
+to buy good lots in Arcadia. People with money must be fed, served
+and amused by people wanting money. In three years the trees cast a
+pleasant shade and the company cast a balance, with gratifying results.
+They discounted the unearned increment for a generation to come.
+
+It was a beneficent scheme, selling ozone and novelty, sunshine and
+delight. The buyers got far more than the worth of their money, the
+company got their money--and every one was happy. Health and good
+spirits are a bargain at any price. There were sandstorms and hot days;
+but sand promotes digestion and digestion promotes cheerfulness. Heat
+merely enhanced the luxury of shaded hammocks. As an adventurer thawed
+out, he sent for seven others worse than himself. Arcadia became the
+metropolis of the county and, by special election, the county-seat.
+Courthouse, college and jail followed in quick succession.
+
+For the company, Arcadia life was one grand, sweet song, with, thus
+far, but a single discord. As has been said, Arcadia was laid out on
+the plain. There was higher ground on three sides--Rainbow Mountain to
+the east, the deltas of La Luz Creek and the Alamo to the north and
+south. New Mexico was dry, as a rule. After the second exception, when
+enthusiastic citizens went about on stilts to forward a project for
+changing the town's name to Venice, the company acknowledged its error
+handsomely. When dry land prevailed once more above the face of the
+waters, it built a mighty moat by way of the _amende honorable_--a moat
+with its one embankment on the inner side of the five-mile horseshoe
+about the town. This, with its attendant bridges, gave to Arcadia an
+aspect singularly medieval. It also furnished a convenient line of
+social demarcation. Chauffeurs, college professors, lawyers, gamblers,
+county officers, together with a few tradesmen and railroad officials,
+abode within "the Isle of Arcady," on more or less even terms with the
+Arcadians proper; millmen, railroaders, lumberjacks, and the underworld
+generally, dwelt without the pale.
+
+The company rubbed its lamp again--and behold! an armory, a hospital
+and a library! It contributed liberally to churches and campaign
+funds; it exercised a general supervision over morals and manners. For
+example, in the deed to every lot sold was an ironclad, fire-tested,
+automatic and highly constitutional forfeiture clause, to the effect
+that sale or storage on the premises of any malt, vinous or spirituous
+liquors should immediately cause the title to revert to the company.
+The company's own vicarious saloon, on Lot Number One, was a sumptuous
+and magnificent affair. It was known as The Mint.
+
+All this while we have been trying to reach the night watchman.
+
+In the early youth of Arcadia there came to her borders a warlock Finn,
+of ruddy countenance and solid build. He had a Finnish name, and they
+called him Lars Porsena.
+
+Lars P. had been a seafaring man. While spending a year's wage in San
+Francisco, he had wandered into Arcadia by accident. There, being
+unable to find the sea, he became a lumberjack--with a custom, when in
+spirits, of beating the watchman of that date into an omelet.
+
+The indulgence of this penchant gave occasion for much adverse
+criticism. Fine and imprisonment failed to deter him from this playful
+habit. One watchman tried to dissuade Lars from his foible with a
+club, and his successor even went so far as to shoot him--to shoot
+Lars P., of course, not his predecessor--the successor's predecessor,
+not Lars Porsena's--if he ever had one, which he hadn't. (What we need
+is more pronouns.) He--the successor of the predecessor--resigned
+when Lars became convalescent; but Lars was no whit dismayed by this
+contretemps--in his first light-hearted moment he resumed his old
+amusement with unabated gayety.
+
+Thus was one of our greatest railroad systems subjected to
+embarrassment and annoyance by the idiosyncrasies of an ignorant but
+cheerful sailorman. The railroad resolved to submit no longer to such
+caprice. A middleweight of renown was imported, who--when he was able
+to be about again--bitterly reproached the president and demanded a
+bonus on the ground that he had knocked Lars down several times before
+he--Lars--got angry; and also because of a disquisition in the Finnish
+tongue which Lars Porsena had emitted during the procedure--which
+address, the prizefighter stated, had unnerved him and so led to
+his undoing. It was obviously, he said, of a nature inconceivably
+insulting; the memory of it rankled yet, though he had heard only the
+beginning and did not get the--But let that pass.
+
+The thing became a scandal. Watchman succeeded watchman on the company
+payroll and the hospital list, until some one hit upon a happy and
+ingenious way to avoid this indignity. Lars Porsena was appointed
+watchman.
+
+This statesmanlike policy bore gratifying results. Lars Porsena
+straightway abandoned his absurd and indefensible custom, and no
+imitator arose. Also, Arcadia within the moat--the island--which was
+the limit of his jurisdiction, became the most orderly spot in New
+Mexico.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the first gray of dawn, Uncle Sam, whistling down Main Street on his
+way home from the masquerade, found Lars Porsena lying on his face in a
+pool of blood.
+
+The belated reveler knelt beside him. The watchman was shot, but still
+breathed. "Ho! Murder! Help! Murder!" shouted Uncle Sam. The alarm
+rolled crashing along the quiet street. Heads were thrust from windows;
+startled voices took up the outcry; other home-goers ran from every
+corner; hastily arrayed householders poured themselves from street
+doors.
+
+Lars Porsena was in disastrous plight. He breathed, but that was about
+all. He was shot through the body. A trail of blood led back a few
+doors to Lake's Bank. A window was cut out; the blood began at the sill.
+
+Messengers ran to telephone the doctor, the sheriff, Lake. The
+knot of men grew to a crowd. A rumor spread that there had been an
+unusual amount of currency in the bank over night--a rumor presently
+confirmed by Bassett, the bare-headed and white-faced cashier. It was
+near payday; in addition to the customary amount to cash checks for
+railroaders and millhands--itself no mean sum--and the money for
+regular business, there had been provision for contemplated loans to
+promoters of new local industries.
+
+The doctor came running, made a hasty examination, took emergency
+measures to stanch the freshly started blood, and swore whole-heartedly
+at the ambulance and the crowding Arcadians. He administered a
+stimulant. Lars Porsena fluttered his eyes weakly.
+
+"Stand back, you idiots! Bash these fools' faces in for 'em, some one!"
+said the medical man. He bent over the watchman. "Who did it, Lars?"
+
+Lars made a vain effort to speak. The doctor gave him another sip of
+restorative and took a pull himself.
+
+"Try again, old man. You're badly hurt and you may not get another
+chance. Did you know him?"
+
+Lars gathered all his strength to a broken speech:
+
+"No.... Bank.... Found window.... Midnight ... Nearly .... Shot me....
+Didn't see him." He fell back on Uncle Sam's starry vest.
+
+"Ambulance coming," said Uncle Sam. "Will he live, doc?"
+
+Doc shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Poor chance. Lost too much blood. If he had been found in time he
+might have pulled through. Wonderful vitality. Ought to be dead now,
+by the books. Still, there's a chance."
+
+"I never thought," said Uncle Sam to Cyrano de Bergerac, as the
+ambulance bore away its unconscious burden, "that I would ever be so
+sorry at anything that could happen to Lars Porsena--after the way he
+made me stop singing on my own birthday. He was one grand old fighting
+machine!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII
+
+                            STATES-GENERAL
+
+    "And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay
+    And laid the wyte on Geordie."
+
+                          --_Old Ballad._
+
+
+That the master's eye is worth two servants had ever been Lake's
+favorite maxim. He had not yet gone to bed when the message reached
+him, where he kept his masterly eye on the proper closing up of the
+ballroom. He came through the crowd now, shouldering his way roughly,
+still in his police costume--helmet, tunic and belt. In his wake came
+the sheriff, who had just arrived, scorching to the scene on his trusty
+wheel.
+
+On the bank steps, Lake turned to face the crowd. His strong canine jaw
+was set to stubborn fighting lines; the helmet did not wholly hide the
+black frown or the swollen veins at his temple.
+
+"Come in, Thompson, and help the sheriff size the thing up--and
+you, Alec"--he stabbed the air at his choice with a strong blunt
+finger--"and Turnbull--you, Clarke--and you.... Bassett, you keep the
+door. Admit no one!"
+
+Lake was the local great man. Never had he appeared to such advantage
+to his admirers; never had his ascendency seemed so unquestioned and so
+justified. As he stood beside the sheriff in the growing light, the man
+was the incarnation of power--the power of wealth, position, prestige,
+success. In this moment of yet unplumbed disaster, taken by surprise,
+summoned from a night of crowded pleasure, he held his mastery, chose
+his men and measures with unhesitant decision--planned, ordered, kept
+to that blunt direct speech of his that wasted no word. A buzz went up
+from the unadmitted as the door swung shut behind him.
+
+Lake had chosen well. Arcadia in epitome was within those pillaged
+walls. Thompson was president of the rival bank. Alec was division
+superintendent. Turnbull was the mill-master. Clarke was editor of the
+_Arcadian Day_. Clarke had been early to the storm-center; yet, of all
+the investigators, Clarke alone was not more or less disheveled. He was
+faultlessly appareled--even to the long Prince Albert and black string
+tie--in which, indeed, report said, he slept.
+
+So much for capital, industry and the fourth estate. The last of the
+probers, whom Lake had drafted merely by the slighting personal pronoun
+"you," was nevertheless identifiable in private life by the name of
+Billy White--being, indeed, none other than our old friend the devil.
+His indigenous mustache still retained a Mephistophelian twist; he was
+becomingly arrayed in slippers, pajamas and a pink bathrobe, girdled at
+the waist with a most unhermitlike cord, having gone early and surly
+to bed. In this improvised committee he fitly represented Society:
+while the sheriff represented society at large and, ex officio, that
+incautious portion under duress. Yet one element was unrepresented;
+for Lake made a mistake which other great men have made--of failing to
+reckon with the masterless men, who dwell without the wall.
+
+Lake led the way.
+
+"Will the watchman die, Alec, d'you think?" whispered Billy, as they
+filed through the grilled door to the counting room.
+
+"Don't know. Hope not. Game old rooster. Good watchman, too," said
+Turnbull, the mill-superintendent.
+
+Lake turned on the lights. The wall-safe was blown open; fragments of
+the door were scattered among the overturned chairs.
+
+In an open recess in the vault there was a dull yellow mass; the
+explosion had spilled the front rows of coin to a golden heap. Behind,
+some golden rouleaus were intact: others tottered precariously, as you
+have perhaps seen beautiful tall stacks of colored counters do. Gold
+pieces were strewn along the floor.
+
+"Thank God, they didn't get all the gold anyhow!" said Lake, with a
+sigh of relief. "Then, of course, they didn't touch the silver; but
+there was a lot of greenbacks--over twenty-five thousand, I think.
+Bassett will know. And I don't know how much gold is gone. Look round
+and see if they left anything incriminating, sheriff, anything that we
+can trace them by."
+
+"He heard poor old Lars coming," said the sheriff. "Then, after he shot
+him, he hadn't the nerve to come back for the gold. This strikes me as
+being a bungler's job. Must have used an awful lot of dynamite to tear
+that door up like that! Funny no one heard the explosion. Can't be much
+of your gold gone, Lake. That compartment is pretty nearly as full as
+it will hold."
+
+"Or heard him shoot our watchman," suggested Thompson. "Still, I don't
+know. There's blasting going on in the hills all the time and almost
+every one was at the masquerade or else asleep. How many times did they
+shoot old Lars--does anybody know? Is there any idea what time it was
+done?"
+
+"He was shot once--right here," said Alec, indicating the spot on the
+flowered silk that had been part of his mandarin's dress. "Gun was held
+so close it burnt his shirt. Awful hole. Don't believe the old chap'll
+make it. He crawled along toward the telephone station till he dropped.
+Say! Central must have heard that shot! It's only two blocks away. She
+ought to be able to tell what time it was."
+
+"Lars said it was just before midnight," said Clarke.
+
+"Oh!--did he speak?" asked Lake. "How many robbers were there? Did he
+know any of them?"
+
+"He didn't see anybody--shot just as he reached the window. Hope some
+one hangs for this!" said Clarke. "Lake, I wish you'd have this money
+picked up--I'm not used to walking on gold--or else have me watched."
+
+Lake shook his head, angry at the untimely pleasantry. It was a
+pleasantry in effect only, put forward to hide uneditorial agitation
+and distress for Lars Porsena. Lake's undershot jaw thrust forward; he
+fingered the blot of whisker at his ear. It was a time for action, not
+for talk. He began his campaign.
+
+"Look here, sheriff! You ought to wire up and down the line to keep a
+lookout. Hold all suspicious characters. Then get a posse to ride for
+some sign round the town. If we only had something to go on--some clue!
+Later we'll look through this town with a finetooth comb. Most likely
+they--or he, if there was only one--won't risk staying here. First of
+all, I've got to telegraph to El Paso for money to stave off a run on
+the bank. You'll help me, Thompson? Of course my burglar insurance will
+make good my loss--or most of it; but that'll take time. We mustn't
+risk a run. People lose their heads so I'll give you a statement for
+the _Day_, Clarke, as soon as I find out where Mr. Thompson stands."
+
+"I will back you up, sir. With the bulk of depositors' money loaned
+out, no bank, however solvent, can withstand a continued run without
+backing. I shall be glad to tide you over if only for my own
+protection. A panic is contagious----"
+
+"Thanks," said Lake shortly, interrupting this stately financial
+discourse. "Then we shall do nicely.... Let's see--to-morrow's payday.
+You fellows"--he turned briskly to the two superintendents--"can't
+you hold up your payday, say, until Saturday? Stand your men off. The
+company stands good for their money. They can wait a while."
+
+"No need to do that," said Alec. "I'll have the railroad checks drawn
+on St. Louis. The storekeepers'll cash 'em. If necessary I'll wire for
+authority to let Turnbull pay off the millhands with railroad checks.
+It's just taking money from one pocket to put it in the other, anyhow."
+
+"Then that's all right! Now for the robbers!" The banker's face
+betrayed impatience. "My first duty was to protect my clients; but now
+we'll waste no more time. You gentlemen make a close search for any
+possible scrap of evidence while the sheriff and I write our telegrams.
+I must wire the burglar insurance company, too." He plunged a pen into
+an inkwell and fell to work.
+
+Acting upon this hint, the sheriff took a desk. "Wish Phillips was
+here--my deputy," he sighed. "I've sent for him. He's got a better head
+than I have for noticing clues and things." This was eminently correct
+as well as modest. The sheriff was a Simon-pure Arcadian, the company's
+nominee; his deputy was a concession to the disgruntled Hinterland,
+where the unobservant rarely reach maturity.
+
+"Oh, Alec!" said Lake over his shoulder, "you sit down, too, and wire
+all your conductors about their passengers last night. Yes, and the
+freight crews, too. We'll rush those through first. And can't you scare
+up another operator?" His pen scratched steadily over the paper. "More
+apt to be some of our local outlaws, though. In that case it will be
+easier to find their trail. They'll probably be on horseback."
+
+"You were an--old-timer yourself, were you not?" asked Billy amiably.
+"If the robbers are frontiersmen they may be easier to get track of, as
+you suggest; but won't they be harder to get?" Billy spoke languidly.
+The others were searching assiduously for "clues" in the most approved
+manner, but Billy sprawled easily in a chair.
+
+"We'll get 'em if we can find out who they were," snapped Lake, setting
+his strong jaw. He did not particularly like Billy--especially since
+their late trip to Rainbow. "There never was a man yet so good but
+there was one just a little better."
+
+"By a good man, in this connection, you mean a bad man, I presume?"
+said Billy in a meditative drawl. "Were you a good man before you
+became a banker?"
+
+"Look here! What's this?" The interruption came from Clarke. He pounced
+down between two fragments of the safe door and brought up an object
+which he held to the light.
+
+At the startled tones, Lake spun round in his swivel-chair. He held out
+his hand.
+
+"Really, I don't think I ever saw anything like this thing before," he
+said. "Any of you know what it is?"
+
+"It's a noseguard," said Billy. Billy was a college man and had worn a
+nosepiece himself. He frowned unconsciously, remembering his successful
+rival of the masquerade.
+
+"A noseguard? What for?"
+
+"You wear it to protect your nose and teeth when playing football,"
+explained Billy. "Keeps you from swearing, too. You hold this piece
+between your teeth; the other part goes over your nose, up between your
+eyes and fastens with this band around your forehead."
+
+"Why! Why!" gasped Clarke, "there was a man at the masquerade togged
+out as a football player!"
+
+"I saw him," said Alec. "And he wore one of these things. I saw him
+talking to Topsy."
+
+"One of my guests?" demanded Lake scoffingly. "Oh, nonsense! Some young
+fellow has been in here yesterday, talking to the clerks, and dropped
+it. Who went as a football player, White? You know all these college
+boys. Know anything about this one?"
+
+"Not a thing." There Billy lied--a prompt and loyal
+gentleman--reasoning that Buttinski, as he mentally styled the
+interloper who had mis-appropriated the Quaker lady, would have cared
+nothing at that time for a paltry thirty thousand. Thus was he guilty
+of a practice against which we are all vainly warned--of judging others
+by ourselves. Billy remembered very distinctly that Miss Ellinor had
+not reappeared until the midnight unmasking, and he therefore acquitted
+her companion of this particular crime, entirely without prejudice to
+Buttinski's felonious instincts in general. For the watchman had been
+shot before midnight. Billy made a tentative mental decision that this
+famous noseguard had been brought to the bank later and left there
+purposely; and resolved to keep his eye open.
+
+"Oh, well, it's no great difference anyhow," said Lake. "Whoever it
+was dropped it here yesterday, I guess, and got another one for the
+masquerade."
+
+"Hold on there!" said Clarke, holding the spotlight tenaciously. "That
+don't go! This thing was on top of one of those pieces of the safe!"
+
+For the first time Lake was startled from his iron composure.
+
+"Are you sure?" he demanded, jumping up.
+
+"Sure! It was right here against the sloping side of this piece--so."
+
+"That puts a different light on the case, gentlemen," said Lake. "Luck
+is with us; and----"
+
+"And, while I think of it," said Clarke, making the most of his
+unexpected opportunity, "I made notes of all the costumes and their
+wearers after the masks were off--for the paper, you know--and I saw no
+football player there. I remember that distinctly."
+
+"I only saw him the one time," confirmed Alec, "and I stayed almost to
+the break-up. Whoever it was, he left early."
+
+"But what possible motive could the robber have for going to the dance
+at all?" queried Lake in perplexity.
+
+"Maybe he made his appearance there in a football suit purposely, so
+as to leave us some one to hunt for, and then committed the robbery
+and went back in another costume," suggested Clarke, pleased and not
+a little surprised at his own ingenuity. "In that case, he would have
+left this rubber thing here of design."
+
+"H'm!" Lake was plainly struck with this theory. "And that's not
+such a bad idea, either! We'll look into this football matter after
+breakfast. You'll go to the hotel with me, gentlemen? Our womankind are
+all asleep after the ball. The sheriff will send some one to guard the
+bank. Meantime I'll call the cashier in and find out exactly how much
+money we're short. Send Bassett in, will you, Billy? You stay at the
+door and keep that mob out."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                             ARCADES AMBO
+
+    "What means this, my lord?"
+    "Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief."
+
+                                          --_Hamlet._
+
+
+    "We are here to do what service we may, for honor and not for
+    hire."--ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
+
+
+With Billy went the sheriff and Alec, the latter with a sheaf of
+telegrams.
+
+"Now ... how did Buttinski's noseguard get into this bank? That's
+what I'd like to know," said Billy to the doorknob, when the other
+committeemen had gone their ways. "I didn't bring it. I don't believe
+Buttinski did.... And Policeman Lake certainly saw us quarreling. He
+noticed the football player, right enough,--and he pretends he didn't.
+Why--why--why does Policeman Lake pretend he didn't see that football
+player? Echo answers--why?... Denmark's all putrefied!"
+
+The low sun cleared the housetops. The level rays fell along the
+window-sill; and Billy, staring fascinated at the single blotch of
+dried blood on the inner sill, saw something glitter and sparkle there
+beside it. He went closer. It was a dust of finely powdered glass.
+Billy whistled.
+
+A light foot ran up the steps. There was a rap at the door.
+
+"No entrance except on business. No business transacted here!" quoted
+Billy, startled from a deep study. A head appeared at the window. "Oh,
+it's you, Jimmy? That's different. Come in!"
+
+It was Jimmy Phillips, the chief deputy. Billy knew him and liked him.
+He unbarred the door.
+
+"Well, anything turned up yet?" demanded Jimmy. "I stopped in to see
+Lars. Him and me was old side partners."
+
+"How's he making it, Jimmy?"
+
+"Oh, doc said he had one chance in ten thousand; so he's all right, I
+guess," responded that brisk optimist. "They got any theory about the
+robber?"
+
+"They have that. A perfectly sound theory, too--only it isn't true,"
+said Billy in a low and guarded tone. "They'll tell you. I haven't got
+time. See here--if I give you the straight tip will you work it up and
+keep your head closed until you see which way the cat jumps? Can you
+keep it to yourself?"
+
+"Mum as a sack of clams!" said Jimmy.
+
+"Look at this a minute!" Billy pointed to the tiny particles of glass
+on the inner sill. "Got that? Then I'll dust it off. This is a case
+for your gummiest shoes. Now look at this!" He indicated the opening
+where the patch of glass had been cut from the big pane. Jimmy rubbed
+his finger very cautiously along the raw edge of the glass.
+
+"Cut out from the inside--then carried out there? A frame-up?"
+
+"Exactly. But I don't want anybody else to size it up for a
+frame-up--not now."
+
+"But," said Jimmy good-naturedly, "I'd 'a' seen all that myself after a
+little if you hadn't 'a' showed me."
+
+"Yes," said Billy dryly; "and then told somebody! That's why I brushed
+the glass-dust off. I've got inside information--some that I'm going to
+share with you and some that I am not going to tell even you!"
+
+"Trot it out!"
+
+"Lake had the key of this front door in the policeman's uniform that
+he wore to the dance. Isn't that queer? If I were you I'd very quietly
+find out whether he went home to get that key after he got word that
+the bank was robbed. He was still in the ballroom when he got the
+message."
+
+"You think it's a put-up job? Why?"
+
+"There is something not just right about the man Lake. His mind is too
+ballbearing altogether. He herds those chumps in there round like so
+many sheep. He used 'em to make discoveries with and then showed 'em
+how to force 'em on him. Oh, they made a heap of progress! They've got
+evidence enough up in there to hang John the Baptist, with Lake all
+the time setting back in the breeching like a balky horse. It's Lake's
+bank, and the bank's got burglar insurance. Got that? If he gets the
+money and the insurance, too--see? And I happen to know he has been
+bucking the market. I dropped a roll with him myself. Then there's
+r-r-revenge!--as they say on the stage--and something else beside. Has
+Lake any bitter enemies?"
+
+"Oodles of 'em!"
+
+"But one worse than the others--one he hates most?"
+
+Jimmy thought for a while. Then he nodded.
+
+"Jeff Bransford, I reckon."
+
+"Is he in town?"
+
+"Not that I know of."
+
+"Well, I never heard of your Mr. Bransford; but he's in town all right,
+all right! You'll see! Lake's got a case cooked up that'll hang some
+one higher than Haman; and I'll bet the first six years of my life
+against a Doctor Cook lecture ticket that the first letter of some
+one's name is Jeff Bransford."
+
+"Maybe Jeff can prove he was somewhere else?" suggested Jimmy.
+
+Billy evaded the issue.
+
+"What sort of a man is this Bransford? Any good? Besides being an enemy
+of Lake's, I mean?"
+
+"Mr. Bransford is one whom we all delight to humor," announced the
+deputy, after some reflection.
+
+"Friend of yours?"
+
+Jimmy reflected again.
+
+"We-ll--yes!" he said. "He limps a little in cold weather, and I got a
+little small ditch plowed in my skull--but our horses was both young
+and wild, and the boys rode in between us before there was any harm
+done. I pulled him out of the Pecos since that, too, and poured some
+several barrels of water out o' him. Yes, we're good friends, I reckon."
+
+"He'll shoot back on proper occasion, then? A good sport? Stand the
+gaff?"
+
+"On proper occasion," rejoined Jimmy, "the other man will shoot
+back--if he's lucky. Yes, sir, Jeff's certainly one dead game sport at
+any turn in the road."
+
+"Considering the source and spirit of your information, you sadden me,"
+said Billy. "The better man he is, the better chance to hang. Has he
+got any close friends here?"
+
+"He seldom ever comes here," said Jimmy. "All his friends is on
+Rainbow, specially South Rainbow; but his particular side partners is
+all away just now; leastways, all but one."
+
+"Can't you write to that one?"
+
+The deputy grinned hugely.
+
+"And tell him to come break Jeff out o' jail?" said he. "That don't
+seem hardly right, considerin'. You write to him--Johnny Dines,
+Morningside. You might wire up to Cloudland and have it forwarded from
+there. I'll pay."
+
+Billy made a note of it.
+
+"They'll be out here in a jiffy now," he said. "Now, Jimmy, you listen
+to all they tell you; follow it up; make no comments; don't see
+anything and don't miss anything. Let Lake think he's having it all his
+own way and he'll make some kind of a break that will give him away. We
+haven't got a thing against him yet except the right guess. And you be
+careful to catch your friend without a fight. When you get him I want
+you to give him a message from me; but don't mention any name. Tell him
+to keep a stiff upper lip--that the devil takes care of his own. Say
+the devil told you himself--in person. I don't want to show my hand.
+I'm on the other side--see? That way I can be in Lake's counsels--force
+myself in, if necessary, after this morning."
+
+"You think that if you give Lake rope enough----"
+
+"Exactly. Here they come--I hear their chairs."
+
+"Blonde or brunette?" said Jimmy casually.
+
+"Eh? What's that?"
+
+"The something else that you wouldn't tell me about," Jimmy explained.
+"Is she blonde or brunette?"
+
+"Oh, go to hell!" said Billy.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                                 TAKEN
+
+    "Lord Huntley then he did speak out--
+      O, fair mot fa' his body!--
+    'I here will fight doublet alane
+      Or ony thing ails Geordie!
+
+    'Whom has he robbed? What has he stole?
+      Or has he killed ony?
+    Or what's the crime that he has done
+      His foes they are so mony?'"
+
+                                --_Old Ballad._
+
+
+Hue and cry, hubbub and mystery, swept the Isle of Arcady that morning,
+but the most painstaking search and query proved fruitless. It
+developed beyond doubt that the football man had not been seen since
+his one brief appearance on the ballroom floor. Search was transferred
+to the mainland, where, as it neared noon, Lake's perseverance and
+thoroughness were rewarded. In Chihuahua suburb, beyond the north
+wall, Lake noted a sweat-marked, red-roan horse in the yard of Rosalio
+Marquez, better known, by reason of his profession, as Monte.
+
+Straightway the banker reported this possible clue to the sheriff and
+to Billy, who was as tireless and determined in the chase as Lake
+himself. The other masqueraders had mostly abandoned the chase. He
+found them on the bridge of the La Luz sallyport.
+
+"It may be worth looking into," Lake advised the sheriff. "Better send
+some one to reconnoiter--some one not known to be connected with your
+office. You go, Billy. If you find anything suspicious the sheriff can
+'phone to the hospital if he needs me. I'm going over to see how the
+old watchman is--ought to have gone before. If he gets well I must do
+something handsome for him."
+
+Billy fell in with this request. He had a well-founded confidence in
+Lake's luck and attached much more significance to the trifling matter
+of the red-roan horse than did the original discoverer--especially
+since the discoverer had bethought himself to go to the hospital on an
+errand of mercy. Billy now confidently expected early developments.
+And he preferred personally to conduct the arrest, so that he might
+interfere, if necessary, to prevent any wasting of good cartridges.
+He did not expect much trouble, however, providing the affair was
+conducted tactfully; reasoning that a dead game sport with a clean
+conscience and a light heart would not seriously object to a small
+arrest. Poor Billy's own heart was none of the lightest as he went on
+this loyal service to his presumably favored rival.
+
+Bicycle-back, he accompanied the sheriff beyond the outworks to the
+Mexican quarter. Near the place indicated by the banker Billy left his
+wheel and strolled casually round the block. He saw the red-roan steed
+and noted the Double Rainbow branded on his thigh.
+
+Monte was leaning in the adobe doorway, rolling a cigarette. Billy knew
+him, in a business way.
+
+"Hello, Monte! Good horse you've got there."
+
+"Yais--tha's nice hor-rse," said Monte.
+
+"Want to sell him?"
+
+"Thees ees not my hor-rse," explained Monte. "He ees of a frien'."
+
+"I like his looks," said Billy. "Is your friend here? Or, if he's
+downtown, what's his name? I'd like to buy that horse."
+
+"He ees weetheen, but he ees not apparent. He ees
+_dormiendo_--ah--yais--esleepin'. He was las' night to the _baile
+mascarada_."
+
+Billy nodded. "Yes; I was there myself." He decided to take a risk:
+assuming that his calculations were correct, x must equal Bransford. So
+he said carelessly: "Let's see, Bransford went as a sailor, didn't he?
+_Un marinero?_"
+
+"Oh, no; he was atir-re' lak one--_que cosa?_--what you call thees
+theeng?--_un balon para jugar con los pies?_ Ah! si, si!--one feetball!
+Myself I come soon back. I have no beesness. The bes' people ees
+all for the dance," said Monte, with hand turned up and shrugging
+shoulder. "So, _media noche_--twelve of the clock, I am here back. I
+fin' here the hor-rse of my frien', and one _carta_--letter--that I am
+not to lock the door; _porque_ he may come to esleep. So I am mek to
+r-repose myself. Later I am ar-rouse when my frien' am to r-retir-re
+heemself. Ah, _que hombre_! I am yet to esmile to see heem in thees
+so r-redeeculous _vestidos_! He ees ver' gay. Ah! _que_ Jeff! Een
+all ways thees ees a man ver' _sufficiente_, cour-rageous, es-trong,
+formidabble! Yet he ees keep the _disposicion_, the hear-rt, of a
+seemple leetle chil'--_un muchacho_!"
+
+"I'll come again," said Billy, and passed on. He had found out what he
+had come for. The absence of concealment dispelled any lingering doubt
+of Jeff Buttinski. Yet he could establish no alibi by Monte.
+
+Perhaps Billy White may require here a little explanation. All things
+considered, Billy thought Jeff would be better off in jail, with a
+friend in the opposite camp working for his interest, than getting
+himself foolishly killed by a hasty posse. If we are cynical, we may
+say that, being young, Billy was not averse to the rôle of _deus ex
+machina_; perhaps a thought of friendly gratitude was not lacking.
+Then, too, adventure for adventure's sake is motive enough--in youth.
+Or, as a final self-revelation, we may hint that if Jeff was a rival,
+so too was Lake--and one more eligible. Let us not be cynical,
+however, or cowardly. Let us say at once shamelessly what we very well
+know--that youth is the season for clean honor and high emprise; that
+boy's love is best and truest of all; that poor, honest Billy, in his
+own dogged and fantastic way, but sought to give true service where
+he--loved. There, we have said it; and we are shamed. How old are you,
+sir? Forty? Fifty? Most actions are the result of mixed motives, you
+say? Well, that is a notable concession--at your age. Let it go at
+that. Billy, then, acted from mixed motives.
+
+When Billy brought back his motives--and the sheriff--Monte still held
+his negligent attitude in the doorway. He waved a graceful salute.
+
+"I want to see Bransford," said the sheriff.
+
+"He ees esleepin'," said Monte.
+
+"Well, I want to see him anyway!" The sheriff laid a brusk hand on the
+gatelatch.
+
+Monte waved his cigarette airily, flicked the ash from the end with a
+slender finger, and once more demonstrated that the hand is quicker
+than the eye. The portentously steady gun in the hand was the first
+intimation to the eye that the hand had moved at all. It was a very
+large gun as to caliber, the sheriff noted. As it was pointed directly
+at his nose he was favorably situated to observe--looking along the
+barrel--that the hammer stood at full cock.
+
+"Per-rhaps you have some papers for heem?" suggested Monte, with gentle
+and delicate deference. He still leaned against the doorjamb. "But
+eef not eet ees bes' that you do not enter thees my leetle house to
+distur-rb my gues'. That would be to commeet a r-rudeness--no?"
+
+The sheriff was a sufficiently brave man, if not precisely a brilliant
+one. Yet he showed now intelligence of the highest order. He dropped
+the latch.
+
+"You Billy, stop your laughing! Do you know, Mr. Monte, I think you are
+quite right?" he observed, with a smiling politeness equal to Monte's
+own. "That would be rude, certainly. My mistake. An Englishman's house
+is his castle--that sort of thing? If you will excuse me now we will go
+and get the papers, as you so kindly pointed out."
+
+They went away, the sheriff, Billy and motives--Billy still laughing
+immoderately.
+
+Monte went inside and stirred up his guest with a prodding boot-toe.
+
+"Meester Jeff," he demanded, "what you been a-doin' now?"
+
+Jeff sat up, rumpled his hair, and rubbed his eyes.
+
+"Sleepin'," he said.
+
+"An' before? _Porque_, the sheriff he has been. To mek an arres' of
+you, I t'eenk."
+
+"Me?" said Jeff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't done
+anything that I can remember now!"
+
+"Sure? No small leetle cr-rime? Not las' night? Me, I jus' got up. I
+have not hear'."
+
+Jeff considered this suggestion carefully. "No. I am sure. Not for
+years. Some mistake, I guess. Or maybe he just wanted to see me about
+something else. Why didn't he come in?"
+
+"I mek r-reques' of heem that he do not," said Monte.
+
+"I see," Jeff laughed. "Come on; we'll go see him. You don't want to
+get into trouble."
+
+They crossed the bridge and met the sheriff just within the
+fortifications, returning in a crowded automobile. Jeff held up his
+hand. The machine stopped and the posse deployed--except Billy, who
+acted as chauffeur.
+
+"You wanted to see me, sheriff--at the hotel?"
+
+"Why, yes, if you don't mind," said the sheriff.
+
+"Good dinner? I ain't had breakfast yet!"
+
+"First-class," said the sheriff cordially. "Won't your friend come too?"
+
+"Ah, señor, you eshame me that I am not so hospitabble, ees eet not?"
+purred Monte, as he followed Jeff into the tonneau.
+
+The sheriff reddened and Billy choked.
+
+"Nothing of the sort," said the sheriff hastily, lapsing into
+literalness. "You were quite within your rights. For that matter, I
+know you were at your own bank, dealing, when the crime was committed.
+I am holding you for the present as a possible accessory; and, if not,
+then as a material witness. By the way, Monte, would you mind if I sent
+some men to look through your place? There is a matter of some thirty
+thousand dollars missing. Lake asked us to look for it. I have papers
+for it if you care to see them."
+
+"Oh, no, señor!" said Monte. He handed over a key. "_La casa es suyo!_"
+
+"Thank you," said the sheriff, with unmoved gravity. "Anything of yours
+you want 'em to bring, Bransford?"
+
+"Why, no," said Jeff cheerfully. "I've got nothing there but my saddle,
+my gun and an old football suit that belongs to 'Gene Baird, over on
+the West Side; but if you want me to stay long, I wish you'd look after
+my horse."
+
+"I too have lef' there my gun that I keep to protec' my leetle house,"
+observed Monte. "Tell some one to keep eet for me. I am much attach' to
+that gun."
+
+"Why, yes, I have seen that gun, I think," said the sheriff. "They'll
+look out for it. All right, Billy!"
+
+The car turned back.
+
+"Oh--you were speaking about Monte being an accessory. I didn't get in
+till 'way late last night, and I've been asleep all day," said Jeff
+apologetically. "Might I ask before or after exactly what fact Monte
+was an accessory?"
+
+"Bank robbery, for one thing."
+
+"Ah!... That would be Lake's bank? Anything else?"
+
+The sheriff was not a patient man and he had borne much; also, he liked
+Lars Porsena. Perfection, even in trifles, is rare and wins affection.
+He turned on Jeff, with an angry growl.
+
+"Murder!"
+
+"Lake?" murmured Jeff hopefully.
+
+The sheriff continued, ignoring and, indeed, only half sensing the
+purport of Jeff's comment:
+
+"At least, the wound may not be mortal."
+
+"That's too bad," said Jeff. He was, if possible, more cheerful than
+ever.
+
+The sheriff glared at him. Billy, from the front seat, threw a word of
+explanation over his shoulder. "It's not Lake. The watchman."
+
+"Oh, old Lars Porsena? That's different. Not a bad sort, Lars. Maybe
+he'll get well. Hope so.... And I shot him? Dear me! When did it
+happen?"
+
+"You'll find out soon enough!" said the sheriff grimly. "Your
+preliminary's right away."
+
+"Hell, I haven't had breakfast yet!" Jeff protested. "Feed us first or
+we won't be tried at all."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Within the jail, while the sheriff spoke with his warder, it occurred
+to Billy that, since Jimmy Phillips was not to be seen, he might as
+well carry his own friendly message. So he said guardedly:
+
+"Buck up, old man! Keep a stiff upper lip and be careful what you say.
+This is only your preliminary trial, remember. Lots of things may
+happen before court sets. The devil looks after his own, you know."
+
+Jeff had a good ear for voices, however, and Billy's mustache still
+kept more than a hint of Mephistopheles. Jeff slowly surveyed Billy's
+natty attire, with a lingering and insulting interest for such
+evidences of prosperity as silken hosiery and a rather fervid scarfpin.
+At last his eye met Billy's, and Billy was blushing.
+
+"Does he?" drawled Jeff languidly. "Ah!... You own the car, then?"
+
+Poor Billy!
+
+Notwithstanding the ingratitude of this rebuff, Billy sought out Jimmy
+Phillips and recounted to him the circumstances of the arrest.
+
+"Oh, naughty, naughty!" said the deputy, caressing his nose. "Lake's
+been a cowman on Rainbow. He knew the brand on that horse; he knew Jeff
+was chummy with Monte. He knew in all reason that Jeff was in there,
+and most likely he knew it all the time. So he sneaks off to see
+Lars--after shooting him from ambush, damn him!--and sends you to take
+Jeff. Looks like he might be willing for you and Jeff to damage either,
+which or both of yourselves, as the case may be."
+
+"It looks so," said Billy.
+
+"Must be a fine girl!" murmured Jimmy absently. "Well, what are you
+going to do? It looks pretty plain."
+
+"It looks plain to us--but we haven't got a single tangible thing
+against Lake yet. We'd be laughed out of court if we brought an
+accusation against him. We'll have to wait and keep our eyes open."
+
+"You're sure Lake did it? There was no rubber nosepiece at Monte's
+house. All the rest of the football outfit--but not that. That looks
+bad for Jeff."
+
+"On the contrary, that is the strongest link against Lake. I dare say
+Buttinski--Mr. Bransford--is eminently capable of bank robbery at odd
+moments; but I know approximately where that noseguard was at sharp
+midnight--after the watchman was shot." Here Billy swore mentally,
+having a very definite guess as to how Jeff might have lost the
+noseguard. "Lake, Clarke, Turnbull, Thompson, Alec or myself--one of
+the six of us--brought that noseguard to the bank after the robbery,
+and only one of the six had a motive--and a key."
+
+"Only one of you had a key," corrected Jimmy cruelly. "But can't Jeff
+prove where he was, maybe?"
+
+"He won't."
+
+"I'd sure like to see her," said Jimmy.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X
+
+                               THE ALIBI
+
+    "And all love's clanging trumpets shocked and blew."
+
+
+    "The executioner's argument was, that you couldn't cut off a head
+    unless there was a body to cut it off from; that he had never had
+    to do such a thing before, and he wasn't going to begin at _his_
+    time of life."--_Alice in Wonderland._
+
+
+The justice of the peace, when the county court was not in session,
+held hearings in the courtroom proper, which occupied the entire second
+story of the county courthouse. The room was crowded. It was a new
+courthouse; there are people impatient to try even a new hearse; and
+this bade fair to be Arcadia's first _cause célèbre_.
+
+Jeff sat in the prisoner's stall, a target for boring eyes. He was
+conscious of an undesirable situation; exactly how tight a place it was
+he had no means of knowing until he should have heard the evidence.
+The room was plainly hostile; black looks were cast upon him. Deputy
+Phillips, as he entered arm in arm with the sometime devil, gave
+the prisoner an intent but non-committal look, which Jeff rightly
+interpreted as assurance of a friend in ambush; he felt unaccountably
+sure of the devil's fraternal aid; Monte, lolling within the rail
+of the witness-box, smiled across at him. Still, he would have felt
+better for another friendly face or two, he thought--say, John Wesley
+Pringle's.
+
+Jeff looked from the open window. Cottonwoods, well watered, give
+swiftest growth of any trees and are therefore the dominant feature
+of new communities in dry lands. The courthouse yard was crowded with
+them: Jeff, from the window, could see nothing but their green plumes;
+and his thoughts ran naturally upon gardens--or, to be more accurate,
+upon a garden.
+
+Would she lose faith in him? Had she heard yet? Would he be able
+to clear himself? No mere acquittal would do. Because of Ellinor,
+there must be no question, no verdict of Not Proven. She would go
+East to-morrow. Perhaps she would not hear of his arrest at all. He
+hoped not. The bank robbery, the murder--yes, she would hear of them,
+perhaps; but why need she hear his name? Hers was a world so different!
+He fell into a muse at this.
+
+Deputy Phillips passed and stood close to him, looking down from the
+window. His back was to Jeff; but, under cover of the confused hum of
+many voices, he spake low from the corner of his mouth:
+
+"Play your hand close to your bosom, old-timer! Wait for the draw and
+watch the dealer!" He strolled over to the other side of the judicial
+bench whence he came.
+
+This vulgar speech betrayed Jimmy as one given to evil courses; but
+to Jeff that muttered warning was welcome as thunder of Blücher's
+squadrons to British squares at Waterloo.
+
+Down the aisle came a procession consciously important--the prosecuting
+attorney; the bank's lawyer, who was to assist, "for the people"; and
+Lake himself. As they passed the gate Jeff smiled his sweetest.
+
+"Hello, Wally!" Lake's name was Stephen Walter.
+
+Wally made no verbal response; but his undershot jaw did the steel-trap
+act and there was a triumphant glitter in his eye. He turned his broad
+back pointedly--and Jeff smiled again.
+
+The justice took his seat on the raised dais intervening between
+Jeff and the sheriff's desk. Court was opened. The usual tedious
+preliminaries followed. Jeff waived a jury trial, refused a lawyer and
+announced that he would call no witnesses at present.
+
+In an impressive stillness the prosecutor rose for his opening
+statement. Condensed, it recounted the history of the crime, so far as
+known; fixed the time by the watchman's statement--to be confirmed,
+he said, by another witness, the telephone girl on duty at that hour,
+who had heard the explosion and the ensuing gunshot; touched upon
+that watchman's faithful service and his present desperate condition.
+He told of the late finding of the injured man, the meeting in the
+bank, the sum taken by the robber, and the discovery in the bank of
+the rubber nosepiece, which he submitted as Exhibit A. He cited the
+witnesses by whom he would prove each statement, and laid special
+stress upon the fact that the witness Clarke would testify that the
+nosepiece had been found upon the shattered fragments of the safe
+door--conclusive proof that it had been dropped after the crime. And
+he then held forth at some length upon the hand of Providence, as
+manifested in the unconscious self-betrayal which had frustrated and
+brought to naught the prisoner's fiendish designs. On the whole, he
+spoke well of Providence.
+
+Now Jeff had not once thought of the discarded noseguard since he first
+found it in his way; he began to see how tightly the net was drawn
+round him. "There was a serpent in the garden," he reflected. A word
+from Miss Hoffman would set him free. If she gave that word at once,
+it would be unpleasant for her: but if she gave it later, as a last
+resort, it would be more than unpleasant. And in that same hurried
+moment, Jeff knew that he would not call upon her for that word. All
+his crowded life, he had kept the happy knack of falling on his feet:
+the stars, that fought in their courses against Sisera, had ever fought
+for reckless Bransford. He decided, with lovable folly, to trust to
+chance, to his wits and to his friends.
+
+"And now, Your Honor, we come to the unbreakable chain of evidence
+which fatally links the prisoner at the bar to this crime. We will
+prove that the prisoner was not invited to the masquerade ball given
+last night by Mr. Lake. We will prove----"
+
+There was a stir in the courtroom; the prosecutor paused, disconcerted.
+Eyes were turned to the double door at the back of the courtroom. In
+the entryway at the head of the stairs huddled a group of shrinking
+girls. Before them, one foot upon the threshold, stood Ellinor
+Hoffman. She shook off a detaining hand and stepped into the room,
+head erect, proud, pale. Across the sea of curious faces her eyes met
+the prisoner's. Of all the courtroom, Billy and Deputy Phillips alone
+turned then to watch Jeff's face. They saw an almost imperceptible
+shake of his head, a finger on lip, a reassuring gesture--saw, too, the
+quick pulsebeat at his throat.
+
+The color flooded back to Ellinor's face. Men nearest the door
+were swift to bring chairs. The prosecutor resumed his interrupted
+speech--his voice was deep, hard, vibrant.
+
+"Your Honor, the counts against this man are fairly damning! We will
+prove that he was shaved in a barber shop in Arcadia at ten o'clock
+last night; that he then rode a roan horse; that the horse was then
+sweating profusely; that this horse was afterward found at the house
+of--but we will take that up later. We will prove by many witnesses
+that among the masqueraders was a man wearing a football suit, wearing
+a nosepiece similar--entirely similar--to the one found in the bank,
+which now lies before you. We will prove that this football player was
+not seen in the ballroom after the hour of eleven P.M. We will prove
+that when he was next seen, without the ballroom, it was not until
+sufficient time had elapsed for him to have committed this awful crime."
+
+Ellinor half rose from her seat; again Jeff flashed a warning at her.
+
+"We will prove this, Your Honor, by a most unwilling witness--Rosalio
+Marquez"--Monte smiled across at Jeff--"a friend of the prisoner, who,
+in his behalf, has not scrupled to defy the majesty of the law! We can
+prove by this witness, this reluctant witness, that when he returned to
+his home, shortly after midnight, he found there the prisoner's horse,
+which had not been there when Mr. Marquez left the house some four
+hours previously: and that, at some time subsequent to twelve o'clock,
+the witness Marquez was wakened by the entrance of the prisoner at the
+bar, clad in a football suit, but wearing no nosepiece with it! And we
+have the evidence of the sheriff's posse that they found in the home
+of the witness, Rosalio Marquez, the football suit--which we offer as
+Exhibit B. Nay, more! The prisoner did not deny, and indeed admitted,
+that this uniform was his; but--mark this!--the searching party found
+no nosepiece there!
+
+"It is true, Your Honor, that the stolen money was not found upon the
+prisoner; it is true that the prisoner made no use of the opportunity
+to escape offered him by his lawless and disreputable friend, Rosalio
+Marquez--a common gambler! Doubtless, Your Honor, his cunning had
+devised some diabolical plan upon which he relied to absolve himself
+from suspicion; and now, trembling, he has for the first time learned
+of the fatal flaw in his concocted defense, which he had so fondly
+deemed invincible!"
+
+All eyes, including the orator's, here turned upon the prisoner--to
+find him, so far from trembling, quite otherwise engaged. The
+prisoner's elbow was upon the rail, his chin in his hand; he regarded
+Mr. Lake attentively, with cheerful amusement and a quizzical smile
+which in some way subtly carried an expression of mockery and malicious
+triumph. To this fixed and disconcerting regard Mr. Lake opposed an
+iron front, but the effort required was apparent to all.
+
+There was an uneasy rustling through the court. The prisoner's bearing
+was convincing, natural; this was no mere brazen assuming. The
+banker's forced composure was not natural! He should have been an angry
+banker. Of the two men, Lake was the less at ease. The prisoner's face
+turned at last toward the door. Blank unrecognition was in his eyes as
+they swept past Ellinor, but he shook his head once more, very slightly.
+
+There was a sense of mystery in the air--a buzz and burr of whispers; a
+rustle of moving feet. The audience noticeably relaxed its implacable
+attitude toward the accused, eyed him with a different interest, seemed
+to feel for the first time that, after all, he was accused merely,
+and that his defense had not yet been heard. The prosecutor felt this
+subtle change; it lamed his periods.
+
+"It is true, Your Honor, that no eye save God's saw this guilty man do
+this deed; but the web of circumstantial evidence is so closely drawn,
+so far-reaching, so unanswerable, so damning, that no defense can avail
+him except the improbable, the impossible establishment of an alibi so
+complete, so convincing, as to satisfy even his bitterest enemy! We
+will ask you, Your Honor, when you have seen how fully the evidence
+bears out our every contention, to commit the prisoner, without bail,
+to answer the charge of robbery and attempted murder!"
+
+Then, by the door, Jeff saw the girl start up. She swept down the
+aisle, radiant, brave, unfearing, resolute, all half-gods gone; she
+shone at him--proud, glowing, triumphant!
+
+A hush fell upon the thrilled room. Jeff was on his feet, his hand held
+out to stay her; his eyes spoke to hers. She stopped as at a command.
+Scarcely slower, Billy was at her side. "Wait! Wait!" he whispered.
+"See what he has to say. There will be always time for that." Jeff's
+eyes held hers; she sank into an offered chair.
+
+Cheated, disappointed, the court took breath again. Their dramatic
+moment had been nothing but their own nerves; their own excited
+imaginings had attached a pulse-fluttering significance to the flushed
+cheeks of a prying girl, seeking a better place to see and hear, to
+gratify her morbid curiosity.
+
+Jeff turned to the bench.
+
+"Your Honor, I have a perfectly good line of defense; and I trust no
+friend of mine will undertake to change it. I will keep you but a
+minute," he said colloquially. "I will not waste your time combating
+the ingenious theory which the prosecution has built up, or in
+cross-examination of their witnesses, who, I feel sure"--here he bowed
+to the cloud of witnesses--"will testify only to the truth. I quite
+agree with my learned friend"--another graceful bow--"that the case
+he has so ably presented is so strong that it can successfully be
+rebutted only by an alibi so clear and so incontestable, as my learned
+friend has so aptly phrased it, as to convince if not satisfy ... my
+bitterest enemy!" The bow, the subtle, icy intonation, edged the words.
+The courtroom thrilled again at the unspoken thought: "_An enemy hath
+done this thing!_" If, in the stillness, the prisoner had quoted the
+words aloud in fierce denunciation, the effect could not have been
+different or more startling. "And that, Your Honor, is precisely what I
+propose to do!"
+
+His Honor was puzzled. He was a good judge of men; and the prisoner's
+face was not a bad face.
+
+"But," he objected, "you have refused to call any witnesses for the
+defense. Your unsupported word will count for nothing. You cannot prove
+an alibi alone."
+
+"Can't I?" said Jeff. "Watch me!"
+
+With a single motion he was through the open window. Bending branches
+of the nearest cottonwood broke his fall--the other trees hid his
+flight.
+
+Behind him rose uproar, tumult and hullabaloo, a mass of struggling men
+at cross purposes. Gun in hand, the sheriff, stumbling over some one's
+foot--Monte's--ran to the window; but the faithful deputy was before
+him, blocking the way, firing with loving care--at one particular
+tree-trunk. He was a good shot, Jimmy. He afterward showed with pride
+where each ball had struck in a scant six-inch space. Vainly the
+sheriff tried to force his way through. There was but one stairway, and
+it was jammed. Before the foremost pursuer had reached the open Jeff
+had borrowed one of the saddled horses hitched at the rack and was away
+to the hills.
+
+As Billy struggled through the press, searching for Ellinor, he found
+himself at Jimmy's elbow.
+
+"A dead game sport--any turn in the road!" agreed Billy.
+
+The deputy nodded curtly; but his answer was inconsequent:
+
+"Rather in the brunette line--that bit of tangible evidence!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                          THE NETTLE, DANGER
+
+    "Bushel o' wheat, bushel o' rye--
+    All 'at ain't ready, holler 'I'!"
+
+                     --_Hide and Seek._
+
+
+Double Mountain lies lost in the desert, dwarfed by the greatness all
+about. Its form is that of a crater split from north to south into
+irregular halves. Through that narrow cleft ran a straight road, once
+the well-traveled thoroughfare from Rainbow to El Paso. For there was
+precious water within those up-heaved walls; it was but three miles
+from portal to portal; the slight climb to the divide had not been
+grudged. Time was when campfires were nightly merry to light the narrow
+cliffs of Double Mountain; when songs were gay to echo from them; when
+this had been the only watering place to break the long span across the
+desert. The railroad had changed all this, and the silent leagues of
+that old road lay untrodden in the sun.
+
+Not untrodden on this the day after Jeff had established his alibi. A
+traveler followed that lonely road to Double Mountain; and behind,
+half-way to Rainbow Range, was a streak of dust; which gained on him.
+The traveler's sorrel horse was weary, for it was the very horse Jeff
+Bransford had borrowed from the hitching-rail of the courthouse square;
+the traveler was that able negotiator himself; and the pursuing dust,
+to the best of Jeff's knowledge and belief, meant him no good tidings.
+
+"Now, I got safe away from the foothills before day," soliloquized
+Jeff. "Some gentleman has overtaken me with a spyglass, I reckon.
+Civilization's getting this country plumb ruined! And their horses are
+fresh. Peg along, Alibi! Maybe I can pick up a stray horse at Double
+Mountain. If I can't there's no sort of use trying to get away on you!
+I'll play hide-and-go-seek-'em. That'll let you out, anyway, so cheer
+up! You done fine, old man! If I ever get out of this I'll buy you and
+make it all right with you. Pension you off if you think you'll like
+it. Get along now!"
+
+Twenty miles to Jeff's right the railroad paralleled the wagonroad in
+an unbroken tangent of ninety miles' stretch. A southbound passenger
+train crawled along the west like a resolute centipede plodding to
+a date: behind the fugitive, abreast, now far ahead, creeping along
+the shining straightaway. Forty miles the hour was her schedule; yet
+against this vast horizon she could hardly be said to change place
+until, sighting beyond her puny length, a new angle of the far western
+wall completed the trinomial line.
+
+Escondido was hidden in a dip of plain--whence the name, Hidden, when
+done into Saxon speech. The train was lost to sight when she stopped
+there, but Jeff saw the tiny steam plume of her whistling rise in the
+clear and taintless air; long after, the faint sound of it hummed
+drowsily by, like passing, far-blown horns of faerie in a dream. And,
+at no great interval thereafter, a low-lying dust appeared suddenly on
+the hither rim of Escondido's sunken valley.
+
+Jeff knew the land as you know your hallway. That line of dust marked
+the trail from Escondido Valley to the farther gate of Double Mountain.
+Even if he should be lucky enough to get a change of mounts at the
+spring in Double Mountain Basin he would be intercepted. Escape by
+flight was impossible. To fight his way out was impossible. He had no
+gun; and, even if he had a gun, he could not see his way to fight,
+under the circumstances. The men who hunted him down were only doing
+the right thing as they saw it. Had Jeff been guilty, it would have
+been a different affair. Being innocent, he could make no fight for it.
+He was cornered.
+
+    "Said the little Eohippus:
+      'I'm going to be a horse!'"
+
+So chanted Jeff, perceiving the hopelessness of his plight.
+
+The best gift to man--or, if not the best, then at least the rarest--is
+the power to meet the emergency: to do your best and a little better
+than your best when nothing less will serve: to be a pinch hitter.
+It is to be thought that certain stages of affection, and more
+particularly the presence of its object, affect unfavorably the
+workings of pure intellect. Certain it is that capable Bransford, who
+had cut so sorry a figure in Eden garden, now, in these distressing but
+Eveless circumstances, rose to the occasion. Collected, resourceful,
+he grasped every possible angle of the situation and, with the rope
+virtually about his neck, cheerfully planned the impossible--the
+essence of his elastic plan being to climb that very rope, hand over
+hand, to safety.
+
+"Going round the mountain is no good on a give-out horse. They'll
+follow my tracks," said Jeff to Jeff. Men who are much alone so shape
+their thoughts by voicing them, just as you practice conversation
+rather to make your own thought clear to yourself than to enlighten
+your victim--beg pardon--your neighbor. Just a slip of the tongue.
+_Vecino_ is the Spanish for neighbor, you know. Not so much to
+enlighten your neighbor as to find out for yourself precisely what it
+is you think. "Hiding in the Basin is no good. Can't get out. Would I
+were a bird! Only one way. Got to go straight up--disappear--vanish in
+the air. 'Up a chimney, up----' Naw, that's backward! 'Up a chimney,
+down, or down a chimney, down; but not up a chimney, up, nor down a
+chimney, up!' So that's settled! Now let me see, says the little man.
+Mighty few Arcadians know me well enough not to be fooled--mebbe so.
+Lake? Lake won't come. He'll be busy. There's Jimmy; but Jimmy's got a
+shocking bad memory for faces sometimes, just now, my face. I think,
+maybe, I could manage Jimmy. The sheriff? That would be real awkward,
+I reckon. I'll just play the sheriff isn't in the bunch and build my
+little bluff according to that pleasing fancy; for if he comes along it
+is all off with little Jeff!
+
+"Now lemme see! If Gwin's working that little old mine of his--why,
+he'll lie himself black in the face just for the principle of it.
+Mighty interestin' talker, Gwin is. And if no one's there, I'll
+be there. Not Jeff Bransford; he got away. I'll be Long--Tobe
+Long--working for Gwin. Tobe Long. I apprenticed my son to a miner, and
+the first thing he took was a new name!"
+
+Far away on the side of Double Mountain he could even now see the white
+triangle of the tent at Gwin's mine--the Ophir--and the gray dump
+spilling down the hillside. There was no smoke to be seen. Jeff made
+up his mind there was no one at the mine--which was what he devoutly
+hoped--and further developed his gleeful hypothesis.
+
+"Let's see now, Tobe. Got to study this all out. They most always leave
+all their kegs full of water when they go away, so they won't have to
+pack 'em up the first thing when they come back. If they did, I'm all
+right. If they didn't, I'm in a hell of a fix! They'll leave 'em full,
+though. Of course they did--else the kegs would all dry up and fall
+down." He glanced over his shoulder. "Them fellows are ten or twelve
+miles back, I reckon. They'll slow up so soon as they see I'm headed
+off. I'll have time to fix things up--if only there's water in the kegs
+at the mine!" He patted Alibi's head: "Now, old man, do your damnedest!
+It's pretty tough on you, but your part will soon be over."
+
+Alibi had made a poor night of it, what with doubling and twisting in
+the foothills, the bitter water of a gyp spring, and the scanty grass
+of a cedar thicket; but he did his plucky best. On the legal other
+hand, as Jeff had prophesied, the dustmakers behind had slackened their
+gait when they perceived, by the dust of Escondido trail, that their
+allies must cut the quarry off. So Alibi held his own with the pursuit.
+
+He came to the rising ground leading to the sheer base of Double
+Mountain; then to the narrow Gap where the mountain had fallen asunder
+in some age-old catacylsm. To the left, the dump of Ophir Mine hung on
+the hillside above the pass; and on the broad trail zigzagging up to it
+were burro-tracks, but no fresh tracks of men. The flaps of the white
+tent on the dump were tightly closed. There was no one at the mine.
+Jeff passed within the walls, through frowning gates of porphyry and
+gneiss, and urged Alibi up the cañon. It was half a mile to the spring.
+On the way he found three shaggy burros grazing beside the road. He
+drove them into the small pen by the spring and tossed his rope on the
+largest one. Then he unsaddled Alibi, tied hint to the fence by the
+bridle rein, and searched his pockets for an old letter. This found, he
+penciled a note and tied it to the saddle. It was brief:
+
+    EN ROUTE, FOUR P.M.
+
+    Please water my horse when he cools off.
+
+                                       Your little friend,
+                                           JEFF BRANSFORD.
+
+    P. S. Excuse haste.
+
+He made a plain trail of high-heeled boot-tracks to the spring, where
+he drank deep; thence beyond, through the sandy soil, to the nearest
+rocky ridge. Then, careful that every step fell on a bare rock, he came
+circuitously back to the corral, climbed the fence, made his way to the
+tied burro, improvised a bridle of cunning half-hitches, slipped from
+the fence to the burro's back--a burro, by the way, is a donkey--named
+the burro anew as Balaam, and went back down the cañon at the best
+pace of which the belabored and astonished Balaam was capable. As
+Jeff had hoped, the two other burros--or the other two burros, to be
+precise--followed sociably, braying remonstrance.
+
+Without the mouth of the cañon Jeff rode up the steep trail to the
+mine, also to the great disgust of his mount; but he must not walk--it
+would leave boot-tracks. For the same reason, after freeing Balaam, his
+first action was to pull off the telltale boots and replace them with
+the smallest pair of hobnailed miner's shoes in the tent. With these he
+carefully obliterated the few boot-tracks at the tent door.
+
+The water-kegs were full; Jeff swore his joyful gratitude and turned
+his eye to the plain. The pursuing dust was still far away--seven
+miles, he estimated, or possibly eight. The three burros nibbled on
+the bushes below the dump; plainly intending to stay round camp with
+an eye for possible tips. Jeff gave his whole-hearted attention to the
+_mise-en-scène_.
+
+Never did stage manager toil so hard, so faithfully, so effectively as
+this one--or with so great a need. He took stock of the available stage
+properties, beginning with a careful inventory of the grub-chest. To
+betray ignorance of its possibilities or deficiencies would be fatal.
+Following a narrow trail round a little shoulder of hill, he found the
+powder magazine. Taking three sticks of dynamite, with fuse and caps,
+he searched the tent for the candle-box, lit a candle and went into the
+tunnel with a brisk trot. "If this was a case of fight, now, I'd have
+some pretty fair weapons here for close quarters," said Jeff; "but the
+way I'm fixed I can't. No fighting goes--unless Lake comes."
+
+In the tunnel his luck held good. He found a number of good-sized
+chunks of rock stacked along the wall near the breast--evidently
+reserved for the ore pile at a more convenient season. Beneath three of
+the largest of these rocks he carefully adjusted the three sticks of
+giant powder, properly capped and fused, lit the fuses and retreated
+to the safety of the dump. Three muffled detonations followed at short
+intervals. Having thus announced the presence of mining operations, he
+built a fire on the kitchen side of the dump to further advertise a
+mind conscious of its own rectitude. The pleasant shadow of the hills
+was cool about him; the flame rose clear and bright in the windless
+air, to be seen from far away.
+
+He looked at the location papers in the monument by the ore stack;
+simultaneously, by way of economizing time, emptying a can of salmon.
+This was partly for the added verisimilitude of the empty tin, partly
+because he was ravenously hungry. You may guess how he emptied the tin.
+
+The mine had changed owners since Jeff's knowledge of it. It was no
+longer Gwin's sole property. The notice bore the signatures of J. Gwin,
+C. W. Sanders and Walter Fleck. Jeff grinned and his eye brightened. He
+knew Fleck only slightly; but Fleck's reputation among the cowmen was
+good--that is to say, as you would see it, very bad.
+
+Pappy Sanders, postmaster and storekeeper of Escondido, was an old and
+sorely tried friend of Jeff's. If Pappy had grub-staked the outfit----A
+far-away plan began to shape vaguely in his fertile brain. He took the
+little turquoise horse from his pocket and laid it in the till of the
+violated trunk. Were you told about the violated trunk? Never mind--he
+had done any amount of other things of which you have not been told;
+for it was his task, in the brief time allotted to him, to master all
+the innumerable details needful for an intelligent reading of his part.
+He must make no blunders.
+
+He toiled like two men, each swifter and more savagely efficient than
+himself; he upset the prim, old he-maidenish order of that carefully
+packed, spick-and-span camp; he rumpled the beds; strewed old clothes,
+books, candles, specimens, pipes and cigarette papers with lavish hand;
+made untidy, sprawling heaps of tin plates; knives, forks and spoons;
+spilled candle-grease and tobacco on the scoured table; and generally
+gave things a cozy and habitable appearance.
+
+He gave a hundred deft touches here and there. He spread an open book
+face downward on the table. (It was "Alice in Wonderland," and he
+opened it at the Mock-Turtle.) Meanwhile an unoccupied eye snatched
+titles from a shelf of books against possible question; he penned a
+short note to himself--Mr. Tobe Long--in Gwin's handwriting, folded the
+note to creases, twisted it to a spill, lit it, burned a corner of it,
+pinched it out and threw it under the table; and, while doing these
+and other things, he somehow managed to shed every article of Jeff
+Bransford's clothing and to put on the work-stained garments of a miner.
+
+The perspiration on his face was no stage make-up, but good, honest
+sweat. He rubbed stone-dust and sand on his sweaty arms and into his
+sweaty hair; he rubbed most of it from his hair and into the two-days'
+stubble on his face, simultaneously fishing razor and mug from the
+trunk, leaving them in evidence on the table. He worked stone-dust
+into his ears, behind his ears; he grimed it on forehead and neck; he
+even dropped a little into his shoes, which all this while had been
+performing independent miracles to make the camp look comfortable. He
+threw on a dingy cap, thrust in the cap a miner's candlestick, with a
+lighted candle, that it might properly drip upon him while he arranged
+further details--and so faced the world as Tobe Long, a stooped and
+overworked man!
+
+Mr. Tobe Long, working with feverish haste, dug a small cave half-way
+down the steep side of the dump farthest from the road and buried
+therein a tightly rolled bundle containing every article appertaining
+to the defunct Bransford, with the single exception of the little
+eohippus; a pocketknife, which a miner must have to cut powder and
+fuse, having been found in the trunk--what time also the little
+turquoise horse was transferred to Mr. Long's pocket to bring him luck
+in his new career--a poor thing compared with the cowman's keen blade,
+but better for Mr. Long's purposes, as smelling strongly of dynamite.
+Then Mr. Long--Tobe--hid the grave by sliding and shoveling broken rock
+down the dump upon it.
+
+Next he threw into a wheelbarrow drills, spoon, tamping stick, gads,
+drill-hammer, rock-hammer, canteen, shovel and pick--taking care, even
+in his haste, to select a properly matched set of drills--and trundled
+the barrow up the drift at a pace which would give a Miners' Union the
+rabies. At the breast, he unshipped his cargo in right miner's fashion,
+the drills in a graduated stepladder row along the wall; loaded the
+barrow with broken ore, a bit of charred fuse showing at the top, and
+wheeled it out at the same unprofessional gait, leaving it on the dump
+just above the spot where his late sepulchral rites had freshened the
+appearance of the sunbeaten dump.
+
+He next performed his ablutions in an amateurish and perfunctory
+fashion, scrupulously observing a well-defined waterline.
+
+"There!" said Mr. Long. "I near made a break that time!" He went back
+to the barrow and trundled it assiduously to the tunnel's mouth and
+back several times, carefully never in quite the same place--finally
+leaving it not above the sepulchered spoil, but near the ore stack,
+as befitted its valuable contents. "I got to think of everything.
+One wrong break'll fix me good!" said Mr. Long. He felt his neck
+delicately, as if he detected some foreign presence there. "In the
+tunnel, now, there's only the one place where the wheel can go; so it
+don't matter so much in there."
+
+The fire having now burned down to proper coals, Mr. Long set about
+supper; with the corner of his eye on the lookout for the pursuers of
+the late Bransford. He set the coffee-pot by the fire--they were now
+in the edge of the tar-brush; there were only two of them. He put on a
+pot of potatoes in their jackets--he could see them plainly, diminutive
+black horsemen twinkling through the brush; he sliced bacon into a
+frying-pan and put it aside to await his cue; he disposed other cooking
+ware in lifelike attitudes near the fire--they were in the long
+shadow of Double Mountain; their horses were jaded; they rode slowly.
+He dropped the sour-dough jar and placed the broken pieces where they
+would be inconspicuously visible. Having thus a perfectly obvious
+excuse for not having sour-dough bread, which requires thirty-six hours
+of running start for preliminary rising, Jeff--Mr. Tobe Long--mixed up
+a just-as-good baking-powder substitute--they rode like young men; they
+rode like young men not to the saddle born, and Tobe permitted himself
+a chuckle: "By hooky, I've got an even chance for my little bluff!"
+
+He shook his head reprovingly at himself for this last admission. With
+every minute he looked more like Tobe Long than ever--if only there had
+been any Tobe Long to look like. His mind ran upon nuggets, pockets,
+placers, faults, true fissure veins, the cyanide process, concentrates,
+chlorides, sulphides, assays, leases and bonds; his face took on the
+strained wistfulness which marks the confirmed prospector: he _was_
+Tobe Long!
+
+The bell rang.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII
+
+                     THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN
+
+    "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."
+
+                    --_The Dictionary._
+
+
+"Ho-o-e-ee! Hello-o!"
+
+As the curtain rose to the flying echoes Long stepped to the edge of
+the dump, frying-pan in hand, and sent back an answering shout in the
+startled high note of a lonely man taken unawares.
+
+"Hello-o!" He brandished his hospitable pan. Then he put it down,
+cupped hands to mouth and trumpeted a hearty welcome: "Chuck! Come up!
+Supper's ready!"
+
+"Can't! See any one go by about two hours ago?"
+
+"Hey? Louder!"
+
+"See a man on a sorrel horse?"
+
+"No-o! I been in the tunnel. Come up!"
+
+"Can't. We're after an outlaw!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"After a murderer!"
+
+"Wait a minute! I'll be down. Too hard to yell so far."
+
+Mr. Long started precipitately down the zig-zag; but the riders had got
+all the information of interest that Mr. Long could furnish and they
+were eager to be in at the death.
+
+"Can't wait! He's inside the mountain, somewheres. Some of the boys are
+waiting for him at the other end." They rode on.
+
+Mr. Long posed for a statue of Disappointment, hung on the steep trail
+rather as if he might conclude to coil himself into a ball and roll
+down the hill to overtake them.
+
+"Stop as you come back!" he bellowed. "Want to hear about it."
+
+Did Jeff--Mr. Long--did Mr. Long now attempt to escape? Not so. Gifted
+with prevision beyond most, Mr. Long's mind misgave him that these
+young men would be baffled in their pleasing expectations. They would
+be back before sundown, very cross; and a miner's brogan leaves a track
+not to be missed.
+
+That Mr. Long was unfeignedly fatigued from the varied efforts of the
+day need not be mentioned, for that alone would not have stayed his
+flight; but the nearest water, save Escondido, was thirty-five miles;
+and at Escondido he would be watched for--not to say that, when he was
+missed, some of the searching party would straightway go to Escondido
+to frustrate him. Present escape was not to be thought of.
+
+Instead, Mr. Long made a hearty meal from the simple viands that had
+been in course of preparation when he was surprised, eked out by
+canned corn fried in bacon grease to a crisp, golden brown. Then,
+after a cigarette, he betook himself to sharpening tools with laudable
+industry. The tools were already sharp, but that did not stop Mr. Long.
+He built a fire in the forge, set up a stepladder of matched drills in
+the blackened water of the tempering tub; he thrust a gad and one short
+drill into the fire. When the gad was at a good cherry heat he thrust
+it hissing into the tub to bring the water to a convincing temperature;
+and when reheated he did it again. From time to time he held the one
+drill to the anvil and shaped it, drawing it alternately to a chisel
+bit or a bull bit. Mr. Long could sharpen a drill with any, having
+been, in very truth, a miner of sorts--he could toy thus with one drill
+without giving it any very careful attention, and his thoughts were now
+busy on how best to be Mr. Long.
+
+Accordingly from time to time he added an artistic touch to Mr.
+Long--grime under his finger-nails, a smudge of smut on an eyebrow.
+His hands displeased him. After some experimenting to get the proper
+heat of it he grasped the partially cooled gad with the drill-pincers
+and held it very lightly to a favored few of those portions of the
+hand known to chiromaniacs as the mounts of Jupiter, Saturn and other
+extinct immortals.
+
+Satisfactory blisters-while-you-wait were thus obtained. These were
+pricked with a pin; some were torn to tatters, with dust and coal
+rubbed in to give them a venerable appearance. The pain was no light
+matter; but Mr. Long had a real affection for Mr. Bransford's neck, and
+it is trifles like these that make perfection.
+
+The next expedient was even more heroic. Mr. Long assiduously put
+stone-dust in one eye, leaving it tearful, bloodshot and violently
+inflamed; and the other one was sympathetically red. "Bit o' steel in
+my eye," explained Mr. Long. Unselfish devotion such as this is all too
+rare.
+
+All this while, at proper intervals, Mr. Long sharpened and resharpened
+that one long-suffering drill. He tripped into the tunnel and smote a
+mighty blow upon the country rock with a pick--therefore qualifying
+that pick for repointing--and laid it on the forge as next on the list.
+
+What further outrage he meditated is not known, for he now heard a
+horse coming up the trail. He was beating out a merry tattoo when a
+white-hatted head rose through a trapdoor--rose above the level of the
+dump, rather.
+
+Hammer in hand, Long straightened up joyfully as best he could, but
+could not straighten up the telltale droop of his shoulders. It was not
+altogether assumed, either, this hump. Jeff--Mr. Long--had not done so
+much work of this sort for years and there was a very real pain between
+his shoulderblades. Still, but for the exigencies of art, he might have
+borne his neck less turtlewise than he did.
+
+"Hello! Get him? Where's your pardner?"
+
+"Watching the gap." The young man, rather breathless from the climb,
+answered the last question first as he led his horse on the dump. "No,
+we didn't get him; but he can't get away. Hiding somewhere in the Basin
+afoot. Found his horse. Pretty well done up." The insolence of the
+outlaw's letter smote him afresh; he reddened. "No tracks going out of
+the Basin. Two of our friends guarding the other end. They say he can't
+get out over the cliffs anywhere. That so?" The speech came jerkily; he
+was still short of breath from his scramble.
+
+"Not without a flying machine," said Long. "No way out that I know of,
+except where the wagonroad goes. What's he done?"
+
+"Robbery! Murder! We'll see that he don't get out by the wagonroad,"
+asserted the youth confidently. "Watch the gaps and starve him out!"
+
+"Oh, speaking of starving," said Tobe, "go into the tent and I'll bring
+you some supper while you tell me about it. Baked up another batch of
+bread on the chance you'd come back."
+
+"Why, thank you very much, Mr.----"
+
+"Long--Tobe Long."
+
+"Mr. Long. My name is Gurdon Steele. Glad to meet you. Why, if you will
+be so kind--that is what I came up to see you about. If you can let us
+have what we need of course we will pay you for it."
+
+"Of course you won't!" It had not needed the offer to place Mr. Gurdon
+Steele quite accurately. He was a handsome lad, fresh-complexioned,
+dressed in the Western manner as practised on the Boardwalk. "You're
+welcome to what I got, sure; but I ain't got much variety. Gwin, the
+old liar, said he was coming out the twentieth--and sure enough he
+didn't; so the grub's running low. Table in the tent--come on!"
+
+"Oh, no, I couldn't, you know! Rex--that's my partner--is quite as
+hungry as I am, you see; but if you could give me something--anything
+you have--to take down there? I really couldn't, you know!" The
+admirable doctrine of _noblesse oblige_ in its delicate application by
+this politeness, was easier for its practitioner than to put it into
+words suited to the comprehension of his hearer; he concluded lamely:
+"I'll take it down there and we will eat it together."
+
+"See here," said Tobe, "I'm as hungry to hear about your outlaw as
+you are to eat. I'll just throw my bedding and a lot of chuck on your
+saddle. We'll carry the coffee-pot and frying-pan in our hands--and
+the sugar-can and things like that. You can tank up and give me the
+news in small chunks at the same time. Afterward two of us can sleep
+while one stands guard."
+
+This was done. It was growing dark when they reached the bottom of the
+hill. The third guardsman had built a fire.
+
+"Rex, this is Mr. Long, who has been kind enough to grubstake us and
+share our watch with us."
+
+Mr. Steele, you have observed, had accepted Mr. Long without
+question; but his first impression of Mr. Long had been gained under
+circumstances highly favorable to the designs of the latter gentleman.
+Mr. Steele had come upon him unexpectedly, finding him as it were
+_in medias res_, with all his skillfully arranged scenery to aid the
+illusion. The case was now otherwise--the thousand-tongued vouching
+of his background lacked to him; Mr. Long had naught save his own
+unthinkable audacity to belie his face withal. From the first instant
+Mr. Rex Griffith was the prey of suspicions--acute, bigoted, churlish,
+deep, dark, distrustful, damnable, and so on down to zealous. He had a
+sharp eye; he wore no puttees; and Mr. Long had a vaguely uncomfortable
+memory, holding over from some previous incarnation, of having seen
+that long, shrewd face in a courtroom.
+
+The host, on hospitable rites intent, likewise all ears and eager
+questionings, was all unconscious of hostile surveillance. Nothing
+could be more carefree, more at ease than his bearing; his pleasant
+anticipatory excitement was the natural outlook for a lonely and
+newsless man. As the hart panteth for the water, so he thirsted for
+the story; but his impatient, hasty questions, following false scents,
+delayed the telling of the Arcadian tale. So innocent was he, so open
+and aboveboard, that Griffith, watching, alert, felt thoroughly ashamed
+of himself. Yet he watched, doubting still, though his reason rebelled
+at the monstrous imaginings of his heart. That the outlaw, unarmed and
+unasked, should venture--Pshaw! Such effrontery was inconceivable.
+He allowed Steele to tell the story, himself contributing only an
+occasional crafty question designed to enable his host to betray
+himself.
+
+"Bransford?" interrupted Mr. Long. "Not Jeff Bransford--up South
+Rainbow way?"
+
+"That's the man," said Steele.
+
+"I don't believe it," said Long flatly. He was sipping coffee with his
+guests; he put his cup down. "I know him, a little. He don't----"
+
+"Oh, there's no doubt of it!" interrupted Steele in his turn. He
+detailed the circumstances with skilful care. "Besides, why did he run
+away? Gee! You ought to have seen that escape! It was splendid!"
+
+"Well, now, who'd 'a' thought that?" demanded Long, still only half
+convinced. "He didn't strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you
+never can tell! How come you fellows to be chasin' him?"
+
+"You see," said Steele, "every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow.
+The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but we
+four--Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us,
+you know--we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were out
+early--sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me--and we had a
+spyglass. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between two
+hills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding a
+sorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. We
+didn't suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried to
+pick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid the
+ridges--keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after him
+pell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not to
+make a dust--that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out."
+
+"You're not deputies, then?" said Long.
+
+"Oh, no, not at all!" said Steele, secretly flattered. "So Harlow and
+Stone galloped off to town. The program was that they'd wire down to
+Escondido to have horses ready for them, come down on Number Six and
+head him off. They were not to tell any one in Arcadia. There's five
+thousand dollars' reward out for him--but it isn't that exactly. It was
+a cowardly, beastly murder, don't you know; and we thought it would be
+rather a big thing if we could take him alone."
+
+"You got him penned all right," said Tobe. "He can't get out, so far
+as I know, unless he runs over us or the men at the other end. By
+George, we must get away from this fire, too!" He set the example,
+dragging the bedding with him to the shelter of a big rock. "He could
+pick us off too slick here in the light. How're you going to get him?
+There's a heap of country in that Basin, all rough and broken, full o'
+boulders--mighty good cover."
+
+"Starve him out!" said Griffith. This was base deceit. Deep in his
+heart he believed that the quarry sat beside him, well fed and
+contented. Yet the unthinkable insolence of it--if this were indeed
+Bransford--dulled his belief.
+
+Long laughed as he spread down the bed. "He'll shoot a deer. Maybe, if
+he had it all planned out, he may have grub cached in there somewhere.
+There's watertanks in the rocks. Say, what are your pardners at the
+other side going to do for grub?"
+
+"Oh, they brought out cheese and crackers and stuff," said Gurd.
+
+"I'll tell you what, boys, you've bit off more than you can chaw,"
+said Jeff--Tobe, that is. "He can't get out without a fight--but, then,
+you can't go in there to hunt for him without weakening your guard;
+and he'd be under shelter and have all the best of it. He'd shoot you
+so dead you'd never know what happened. I don't want none of it! I'd
+as lief put on boxing gloves and crawl into a hole after a bear! Look
+here, now, this is your show; but I'm a heap older'n you boys. Want to
+know what I think?"
+
+"Certainly," said Rex.
+
+"Goin' to talk turkey to me?" An avaricious light came into Long's eyes.
+
+"Of course; you're in on the reward," said Rex diffidently and rather
+stiffly. "We are not in this for the money."
+
+"I can use the money--whatever share you want to give me," said Long
+dryly; "but if you take my advice my share won't be but a little. I
+think you ought to keep under shelter at the mouth of this cañon--one
+of you--and let the other one go to Escondido and send for help, quick,
+and a lot of it."
+
+"What's the matter with you going?" asked Griffith disingenuously. He
+wanted Long to show his hand. It would never do to abandon the siege
+of Double Mountain to arrest this _soi-disant_ Long on mere suspicion.
+On the other hand, Mr. Rex Griffith had no idea of letting Long escape
+his clutches until his identity was established, one way or the other,
+beyond all question.
+
+That was why Long declined the offer. His honest gaze shifted. "I ain't
+much of a rider," he said evasively. Young Griffith read correctly the
+thought which the excuse concealed. Evidently Long considered himself
+an elder soldier, if not a better, than either of his two young guests,
+but wished to spare their feelings by not letting them find it out.
+Griffith found this plain solution inconsistent with his homicidal
+theory: a murderer, fleeing for his life, would have jumped at the
+chance.
+
+There are two sides to every question. Let us, this once, prove both
+sides. Wholly oblivious to Griffith's lynx-eyed watchfulness and his
+leading questions, Mr. Long yet recognized the futility of an attempt
+to ride away on Mr. Griffith's horse with Mr. Griffith's benison. There
+we have the other point of view.
+
+"We'll have to send for grub anyway," pursued the sagacious Mr. Long.
+"I've only got a little left; and that old liar, Gwin, won't be out
+for four days--if he comes then. And--er--look here now--if I was you
+boys I'd let the sheriff and his posse smoke your badger out. They get
+paid to tend to that--and it looks to me like some one was going to get
+hurt. You've done enough."
+
+All this advice was so palpably sound that the doubter was, for the
+second, staggered--for a second only. This was the man he had seen in
+the prisoner's dock. He was morally sure of it. For all the difference
+of appearance, this was the man. Yet those blasts--the far-seen
+fire--the hearty welcome--this delivery of himself into their hands?...
+Griffith scarcely knew what he did think. He blamed himself for his
+unworthy suspicions; he blamed Gurdy more for having no suspicions at
+all.
+
+"Anything else?" he said. "That sounds good."
+
+Tobe studied for some time.
+
+"Well," he said at last, "there may be some way he can get out. I don't
+think he can--but he might find a way. He knows he's trapped; but
+likely he has no idea yet how many of us there are. So we know he'll
+try, and he won't be just climbing for fun. He'll take a chance."
+
+Steele broke in:
+
+"He didn't leave any rope on his saddle."
+
+Tobe nodded.
+
+"So he means to try it. Now here's five of us here. It seems to me
+that some one ought to ride round the mountain the first thing in the
+morning, and every day afterward--only here's hoping there won't be
+many of 'em--to look for tracks. There isn't one chance in a hundred he
+can climb out; but if he goes out of here afoot we've got him sure. The
+man on guard wants to keep in shelter. It's light to-night--there's no
+chance for him to slip out without being seen. You say the old watchman
+ain't dead yet, Mr. Griffith?"
+
+"No. The latest bulletin was that he was almost holding his own."
+
+"Hope he gets well," said Long. "Good old geezer! Now, cap, I've worked
+hard and you've ridden hard. Better set your guards and let the other
+two take a little snooze."
+
+Griffith was not proof against the insidious flattery of this
+unhesitant preference. He flushed with embarrassment and pleasure.
+
+"Well, if I'm to be captain, Gurd will take the first guard--till
+eleven. Then you come on till two, Mr. Long. I'll stand from then on
+till daylight."
+
+In five minutes Mr. Long was enjoying the calm and restful sleep of
+fatigued innocence; but his poor captain was doomed to have a bad night
+of it, with two Bransfords on his hands--one in the Basin and one in
+the bed beside him. His head was dizzy with the vicious circle. Like
+the gentlewoman of the nursery rhyme, he was tempted to cry: "Lawk 'a'
+mercy on me, this is none of I!"
+
+If he haled his bedmate to justice and the real Bransford got
+away--that would be a nice predicament for an ambitious young man! He
+was sensitive to ridicule, and he saw here such an opportunity to earn
+it as knocks but once at any man's door.
+
+If, on the other hand, while he held Bransford cooped tightly in the
+Basin, this thrice-accursed Long should escape him and there should
+be no Bransford in the Basin----What nonsense! What utter twaddle!
+Bransford was in the Basin. He had found his horse and saddle, his
+tracks; no tracks had come out of the Basin. Immediately on the
+discovery of the outlaw's horse, Gurd had ridden back posthaste and
+held the pass while he, the captain, had gone to the mouth of the
+southern cañon and posted his friends. He had watched for tracks of
+a footman every step of the way, going and coming; there had been no
+tracks. Bransford was in the Basin. He watched the face of the sleeping
+man. But, by Heaven, this was Bransford!
+
+Was ever a poor captain in such a predicament? A moment before he
+had fully and definitely decided once for all that this man was not
+Bransford, could not be Bransford; that it was not possible! His
+reason unwaveringly told him one thing, his eyesight the other!... Yet
+Bransford, or an unfortunate twin of his, lay now beside him--and, for
+further mockery, slept peacefully, serene, untroubled.... He looked
+upon the elusive Mr. Long with a species of horror! The face was drawn
+and lined. Yet, but forty-eight hours of tension would have left
+Bransford's face not otherwise. He had noticed Bransford's hands in the
+courtroom--noticed their well-kept whiteness, due, as he had decided,
+to the perennial cowboy glove. This man's hands, as he had seen by the
+campfire, were blistered and calloused! Callouses were not made in a
+day. He took another look at Long. Oh, thunder!
+
+He crept from bed. He whispered a word to sentry Steele; not to outline
+the distressing state of his own mind, but merely to request Steele not
+to shoot him, as he was going up to the mine.
+
+He climbed up the trail, chewing the unpalatable thought that Gurdon
+had seen nothing amiss--yet Gurd had been at the trial! The captain
+began to wish he had never gone on that deerhunt.
+
+He went into the tent, struck a match, lit a candle and examined
+everything closely. There was no gun in the camp and no cartridges. He
+found the spill of twisted paper under the table, smothered his qualms
+and read it. He noted the open book for future examination in English.
+And now Tobe's labors had their late reward, for Rex missed nothing.
+Every effort brought fresh disappointment and every disappointment
+spurred him to fresh effort. He went into the tunnel; he scrutinized
+everything, even to the drills in the tub. The food supply tallied with
+Long's account. No detail escaped him and every detail confirmed the
+growing belief that he, Captain Griffith, was a doddering imbecile.
+
+He returned to the outpost, convinced at last. Nevertheless, merely to
+quiet the ravings of his insubordinate instincts, now in open revolt,
+he restaked the horses nearer to camp and cautiously carried both
+saddles to the head of the bed. Concession merely encouraged the rebels
+to further and successful outrages--the government was overthrown.
+
+He drew sentry Steele aside and imparted his doubts. That faithful
+follower heaped scorn, mockery, laughter and abuse upon his shrinking
+superior: recounted all the points, from the first blasts of dynamite
+to the present moment, which favored the charitable belief above
+mentioned as newly entertained by Captain Griffith concerning himself.
+This belief of Captain Griffith was amply indorsed by his subordinate
+in terms of point and versatility.
+
+"Of course they look alike. I noticed that the minute I saw him--the
+same amount of legs and arms, features all in the fore part of his
+head, hair on top, one body--wonderful! Why, you pitiful ass, that
+Bransford person was a mighty keen-looking man in any company.
+This fellow's a yokel--an old, rusty, cap-and-ball, single-shot
+muzzle-loader. The Bransford was an automatic, steel-frame, high
+velocity----"
+
+"The better head he has the more apt he is to do the unexpected----"
+
+"Aw, shut up! You've got incipient paresis! Stuff your ears in your
+mouth and go to sleep!"
+
+The captain sought his couch convinced, but holding his first opinion,
+savagely minded to arrest Mr. Long rather than let him have a gun
+to stand guard with. He was spared the decision. Mr. Long declined
+Gurdon's proffered gun, saying that he would be right there and he was
+a poor shot anyway.
+
+Gurdon slept; Long took his place--and Captain Rex, from the bed,
+watched the watcher. Never was there a more faithful sentinel than Mr.
+Long. Without relaxing his vigilance even to smoke, he strained every
+faculty lest the wily Bransford should creep out through the shadows.
+The captain saw him, a stooped figure, sitting motionless by his rock,
+always alert, peering this way and that, turning his head to listen.
+Once Tobe saw something. He crept noiselessly to the bed and shook
+his chief. Griffith came, with his gun. Something was stirring in the
+bushes. After a little it moved out of the shadows. It was a prowling
+coyote. The captain went back to bed once more convinced of Long's
+fidelity, but resolved to keep a relentless eye on him just the same.
+And all unawares, as he revolved the day's events in his mind, the
+captain dropped off to troubled sleep.
+
+Mr. Long woke him at three. There had been a temptation to ride away,
+but the saddles were at the head of the bed, the ground was stony; he
+would be heard. He might have made an attempt to get both guns from
+under the pillow, but detection meant ruin for him, since to shoot
+these boys or to hurt them was out of the question. Escape by violence
+would have been easy and assured. Jeff preferred to trust his wits. He
+was enjoying himself very much.
+
+When the captain got his relentless eyes open and realized what had
+chanced he saw that further doubt was unworthy. Half an hour later the
+unworthy captain stole noiselessly to Long's bedside and saw, to his
+utter rage and distraction, that Mr. Bransford was there again. It was
+almost too much to bear. He felt that he should always hate Long, even
+after Bransford was safely hanged. Bransford's head had slipped from
+Long's pillow. Hating himself, Griffith subtly withdrew the miner's
+folded overalls and went through the pockets.
+
+He found there a knife smelling of dynamite, matches, a turquoise
+carved to what was plainly meant to be the form of a bad-tempered
+horse, and two small specimens of ore!
+
+Altogether, the captain passed a wild and whirling night.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII
+
+                     THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN
+
+                             (_Continued_)
+
+    "If the bowl had been stronger
+    My tale had been longer."
+
+                  --_Mother Goose._
+
+
+When the sun peeped over Rainbow Range, Captain Griffith bent over Tobe
+Long's bed. His eyes were aching, burned and sunken; the lids twitched;
+his face was haggard and drawn--but he had arrived at an unalterable
+decision. This thing could not and should not go on. His brain reeled
+now--another such night would entitle him to state protection.
+
+He shook Mr. Long roughly.
+
+"See here! I believe you're Bransford himself!"
+
+Thus taken off his guard, Long threw back the bedding, rose to one
+elbow, still half asleep, and reached for his shoes, laughing and
+yawning alternately. Then, as he woke up a little more, he saw a better
+way to dress, dropped the shoes and unfurled his pillow--which, by day,
+he wore as overalls. Fumbling behind him, where the pillow had lain,
+he found a much-soiled handkerchief and tenderly dabbed at his swollen
+eye.
+
+"Bit of steel in my eye from a drill-head," he explained. "Jiminy, but
+it's sore!"
+
+Plainly he took the accusation as a pleasantry calling for no answer.
+
+"I mean it! I'm going to keep you under guard!" said Captain Griffith
+bitingly.
+
+Poor, sleepy Tobe, half-way into his overalls, stared up at Mr.
+Griffith; his mouth dropped open--he was quite at a loss for words. The
+captain glared back at him. Tobe kicked the overalls off and cuddled
+back into bed.
+
+"Bully!" he said. "Then I won't have to get breakfast!"
+
+Gurdon Steele sat up in bed, a happy man. His eye gave Mr. Long a
+discreetly confidential look, as of one who restrains himself, out of
+instinctive politeness, from a sympathetic and meaningful tap of one's
+forehead. A new thought struck Mr. Long. He reached over behind Steele
+for the rifle at the bed's edge and thrust it into the latter's hands.
+
+"Here, Boy Scout! Watch me!" he whispered. "Don't let me escape while I
+sleep a few lines! I'm Bransford!"
+
+Gurdie rubbed his eyes and giggled.
+
+"Don't you mind Rex. That's the worst of this pipe habit. You never can
+tell how they'll break out next."
+
+"Yes, laugh, you blind bat!" said Rex bitterly. "I've got him all the
+same, and I'm going to keep him while you go to Escondido!" His rifle
+was tucked under his arm; he patted the barrel significantly.
+
+It slowly dawned upon Mr. Long that Captain Griffith was not joking,
+after all, and an angry man was he. He sat up in bed.
+
+"Oh, piffle! Oh, fudge! Oh, pickled moon-shine! If I'm Bransford what
+the deuce am I doing here? Why, you was both asleep! I could 'a' shot
+your silly heads off and you'd 'a' never woke up. You make me tired!"
+
+"Don't mind him, Long. He'll feel better when he takes a nap," said
+Gurd joyfully. "He has poor spells like this and he misses his nurse.
+We always make allowances for him."
+
+Mr. Long's indignation at last overcame his politeness, and in his
+wrath he attacked friend and foe indiscriminately.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me you two puling infants are out hunting down a
+man you never saw? Don't the men at the other side know him either? By
+jinks, you hike out o' this after breakfast and send for some grown-up
+men. I want part of that reward--and I'm going to have it! Look here!"
+He turned blackly to Gurdon. "Are you sure that Bransford, or any one
+else, came in here at all yesterday, or did you dream it? Or was it all
+a damfool kid joke? Listen here! I worked like a dog yesterday. If you
+had me stand guard three hours, tired as I was, for nothing, there's
+going to be more to it. What kind of a sack-and-snipe trick is this,
+anyway? You just come one at a time and I'll lick the stuffin' out o'
+both o' you! I ain't feelin' like any schoolboy pranks just now."
+
+"No, no; that part's all straight. Bransford's in there, all right,"
+protested Gurdon. "If you hadn't been working in the tunnel you'd have
+seen him when he went by. Here's the note he left. And his horse and
+saddle are up at the spring. We left the horse there because he was
+lame and about all in. Bransford can't get away on him. Rex is just
+excited--that's all the matter with him. Hankering for glory! I told
+him last night not to make a driveling idiot of himself. Here, read
+this insolent note, will you?"
+
+Long glowered at the note and flung it aside. "Anybody could 'a'
+wrote that! How am I to know this thing ain't some more of your funny
+streaks? You take these horses to water and bring back Bransford's
+horse and saddle, and then I'll know what to believe. Be damn sure you
+bring them, too, or we'll go to producing glory right here--great gobs
+and chunks of it! You Griffith! put down that gun or I'll knock your
+fool head off! I'm takin' charge of this outfit now, and don't you
+forget it! And I don't want no maniac wanderin' round me with a gun.
+You go to gatherin' up wood as fast as ever God'll let you!"
+
+"Say, I was mistaken," said the deposed leader, thoroughly convinced
+once more. "You do look like Bransford, you know." He laid down his
+rifle obediently.
+
+"Look like your grandmother's left hind foot!" sneered the outraged
+miner. "My eyes is brown and so's Bransford's. Outside o' that----"
+
+"No, but you do, a little," said his ally, Steele. "I noticed it
+myself, last night. Not much--but still there's a resemblance. Poor Cap
+Griffith just let his nerves and imagination run away with him--that's
+all."
+
+Long sniffed. "Funny I never heard of it before," he said. He was
+somewhat mollified, nevertheless; and, while cooking breakfast, he
+received very graciously a stammered and half-hearted apology from
+young Mr. Griffith, now reduced to the ranks. "Oh, that's all right,
+kid. But say--you be careful and don't shoot your pardner when he comes
+back."
+
+Gurdon brought back the sorrel horse and the saddle, thereby allaying
+Mr. Long's wrathful mistrust that the whole affair was a practical joke.
+
+"I told you butter wouldn't suit the works!" said Rex triumphantly, and
+watched the working of his test with a jealous eye.
+
+Long knew his Alice. "'But it was the best butter,'" he said. He
+surveyed the sorrel horse; his eye brightened. "We'll whack up that
+blood-money yet," he announced confidently. "Now I'm going to walk over
+to the south side and get one of those fellows to ride sign round the
+mountain. You boys can sleep, turn and turn about, till I get back.
+Then I want Steele to go to Escondido and wire up to Arcadia that
+we've got our bear by the tail and want help to turn him loose, and
+tell Pappy Sanders to send me out some grub or I'll skin him. Pappy's
+putting up for the mine, you know. I'll stay here and keep an eye on
+Griffith." He gave that luckless warrior a jeering look, as one who has
+forgiven but not forgotten.
+
+"Why don't you ride one of our horses?" said Gurdon.
+
+"Want to keep 'em fresh. Then if Bransford gets out over the cliffs
+you can run him down like a mad dog," said Tobe. "Besides, if I ride a
+fresh horse in here he'll maybe shoot me to get the horse; and if he
+could catch you lads away from shelter maybe so he'd make a dash for
+it, a-shootin'. See here! If I was dodgin' in here like him--know what
+I'd do? I'd just shoot a few lines on general principles to draw you
+away from the gates. Then if you went in to see about it I'd either
+kill you if I had to, or slip out if you give me the chance. You just
+stay right here, whatever happens. Keep under shelter and keep your
+horses right by you. We got him bottled up and we won't draw the cork
+till the sheriff comes. I'll tell 'em to do the same way at the other
+end. I won't take any gun with me and I'll stick to the big main road.
+That way Bransford won't feel no call to shoot me. Likely he's 'way up
+in the cliffs, anyhow."
+
+"Ride the sorrel horse then, why don't you? He isn't lame enough to
+hurt much, but he's lame enough that Bransford won't want him." Thus
+Mr. Griffith, again dissimulating. Every detail of Mr. Long's plan
+forestalled suspicion. That these measures were precisely calculated to
+disarm suspicion now occurred to Griffith's stubborn mind. For he had a
+stubborn mind; the morning's coffee had cleared it of cobwebs, and it
+clung more tenaciously than ever to the untenable and thrice-exploded
+theory that Long and Bransford were one and inseparable, now and
+forever.
+
+He meditated an ungenerous scheme for vindication and, to that end,
+wished Mr. Long to ride the sorrel horse. For Mr. Long, if he were
+indeed the murderer--as, of course, he was--would indubitably, upon
+some plausible pretext, attempt to pass the guards at the farther end
+of the trip, where was no clear-eyed Griffith on guard. What more
+plausible that a modification of the plan already rehearsed--for Long
+to tell the wardens that Griffith had sent him to telegraph to the
+sheriff? Let him once pass those warders on any pretext! That would be
+final betrayal, for all his shrewdness. There was no possibility that
+Long and Bransford could complete their escape on that lame sorrel.
+He would not be allowed to get much of a start--just enough to betray
+himself. Then he, Griffith, would bring them back in triumph.
+
+It was a good scheme: all things considered, it reflected great credit
+upon Mr. Griffith's imagination. As in Poe's game of "odd or even,"
+where you must outguess your opponent and follow his thought, Mr. Rex
+Griffith had guessed correctly in every respect. Such, indeed, had
+been Mr. Long's plan. Only Rex did not guess quite often enough. Mr.
+Long had guessed just one layer deeper--namely, that Mr. Griffith
+would follow his thought correctly and also follow him. Therefore Mr.
+Long switched again. It was a bully game--better than poker. Mr. Long
+enjoyed it very much.
+
+Just as Rex expected, Tobe allowed himself to be overpersuaded and
+rode the sorrel horse. He renamed the sorrel horse Goldie, on the
+spot, saddled him awkwardly, mounted in like manner, and rode into the
+shadowy depths of Double Mountain.
+
+Once he was out of sight Mr. Griffith followed, despite the angry
+protest of Mr. Steele--alleging falsely that he was going to try for a
+deer.
+
+Tobe rode slowly up the crooked and brush-lined cañon. Behind him,
+cautiously hidden, came Griffith, the hawk-eyed avenger--waiting
+at each bend until Mr. Long had passed the next one, for closer
+observation of how Mr. Long bore himself in solitude.
+
+Mr. Long bore himself most disappointingly. He rode slowly and
+awkwardly, scanning with anxious care the hillsides before him. Not
+once did he look back lest he should detect Mr. Griffith. Near the
+summit the Goldie horse shied and jumped. It was only one little
+jump, whereunto Goldie had been privately instigated by Mr. Long's
+thumb--"thumbing" a horse, as done by one conversant with equine
+anatomy, produces surprising results!--but it caught Mr. Long unawares
+and tumbled him ignominiously in the dust.
+
+Mr. Long sat in the sand and rubbed his shoulder: Goldie turned and
+looked down at him in unqualified astonishment. Mr. Long then cursed
+Mr. Bransford's sorrel horse; he cursed Mr. Bransford for bringing
+the sorrel horse; he cursed himself for riding the sorrel horse; he
+cursed Mr. Griffith, with one last, longest, heart-felt, crackling,
+hair-raising, comprehensive and masterly curse, for having persuaded
+him to ride the sorrel horse. Then he tied the sorrel horse to a bush
+and hobbled on afoot, saying it all over backward.
+
+Poor Griffith experienced the most intense mortification--except
+one--of his life. This was conclusive. Bransford was reputed the best
+rider in Rainbow. This was Long. He was convinced, positively, finally
+and irrevocably. He did not even follow Mr. Long to the other side of
+Double Mountain, but turned back to camp, keeping a sharp eye out for
+traces of the real Bransford; to no effect. It was only by chance--a
+real chance--that, clambering on the gatepost cliffs to examine a
+curious whorl of gneiss, he happened to see Mr. Long as he returned.
+Mr. Long came afoot, leading the sorrel horse. Just before he came
+within sight of camp he led the horse up beside a boulder, climbed
+clumsily into the saddle, clutched the saddle-horn, and so rode into
+camp. The act was so natural a one that Griffith, already convinced,
+was convinced again--the more so because Long preserved a discreet
+silence as to the misadventure with the sorrel horse.
+
+Mr. Long reported profanely that the men on the other side had also
+been disposed to arrest him, and had been dissuaded with difficulty.
+
+"So I guess I must look some like Bransford, though I would never 'a'
+guessed it. Reckon nobody knows what they really look like. Chances are
+a feller wouldn't know himself if he met him in the road. That squares
+you, kid. No hard feelings?"
+
+"Not a bit. I certainly thought you were Bransford, at first," said
+Griffith.
+
+"Well, the black-eyed one--Stone--he's coming round on the west side
+now, cutting sign. You be all ready to start for Escondido as soon as
+he gets here, Gurd. Say, you don't want to wait for the sheriff if he's
+up on Rainbow. You wire a lot of your friends to come on the train at
+nine o'clock to-night. Sheriff can come when he gets back. There ain't
+but a few horses at Escondido. You get Pappy Sanders to send your gang
+out in a wagon--such as can't find horses."
+
+"Better take in both of ours, Gurd," said Griffith. He knew Long was
+all right, as has been said, but he was also newly persuaded of his own
+fallibility. He had been mistaken about Long being Bransford; therefore
+he might be mistaken about Long being Long. In this spirit of humility
+he made the suggestion recorded above, and was grieved that Long
+indorsed it.
+
+"And I want you to do two errands for me, kid. You give this to Pappy
+Sanders--the storekeeper, you know"--here he produced the little
+eohippus from his pocket--"and tell him to send it to a jeweler
+for me and get a hole bored in it so it'll balance. Want to use
+it for a watch-charm when I get a watch. And if we pull off this
+Bransford affair I'll have me a watch. Now don't you lose that! It's
+turquoise--worth a heap o' money. Besides, he's a lucky little horse."
+
+"I'll put him in my pocketbook," said Gurdon.
+
+"Better give him to Pappy first off, else you're liable to forget
+about him, he's so small. Then you tell Pappy to send me out some
+grub. I won't make out no bill. He's grubstakin' the mine; he'll
+know what to send. You just tell him I'm about out of patience. Tell
+him I want about everything there is, and want it quick; and a jar
+for sour dough--I broke mine. And get some newspapers." He hesitated
+perceptibly. "See here, boys, I hate to mention this; but old Pappy,
+him and this Jeff Bransford is purty good friends. I reckon Pappy won't
+much like it to furnish grub for you while you're puttin' the kibosh on
+Jeff. You better get some of your own. You see how it is, don't you?
+'Tain't like it was my chuck."
+
+Stone came while they saddled. He spoke apart with Griffith as to Mr.
+Long, and a certain favor he bore to the escaped bank-robber; but
+Griffith, admitting his own self-deception in that line, outlined the
+history of the past unhappy night. Stone, who had suffered only a
+slight misgiving, was fully satisfied.
+
+As Steele started for the railroad Mr. Stone set out to complete the
+circuit of Double Mountain, in the which he found no runaway tracks.
+And Griffith and Long, sleeping alternately--especially Griffith--kept
+faithful ward over the gloomy gate of Double Mountain.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV
+
+                                FLIGHT
+
+    "Keep away from that wheelbarrow--what the hell do you know about
+    machinery?"--ELBERT HUBBARD.[2]
+
+    [Footnote 2: It is not intimated that Mr. Hubbard wrote
+    this--merely that he printed it.--AUTHOR.]
+
+
+Just after dark a horseman with a led horse came jogging round the
+mountain on the trail from Escondido. On the led horse was a pack bound
+rather slouchily, not to a packsaddle, but to an old riding saddle. The
+horses were unwilling to enter the circle of firelight, so the rider
+drew rein just beyond--a slender and boyish rider, with a flopping
+wide-brimmed hat too large for him.
+
+"Oh, look who's here!" said Tobe, as one who greets an unexpected
+friend.
+
+"Hello, Tobe! Here's your food, grub, chuck and provisions! Got your
+outlaw yet? Them other fellows will be out along toward midnight." He
+went on without waiting for an answer: "Put me on your payroll. Pappy
+said I was to go to work--and if you was going to quit work to hunt
+down his friend you'd better quit for good. Lead on to your little old
+mine. I don't know where it is, even."
+
+"I'll go up and unpack, Rex," said Tobe; "but, of course, I'm not going
+to lose my part of that five thousand. Pappy's foolish. He's gettin'
+old. I'll be back after a while and bring down the papers."
+
+Chatting of the trapped outlaw, the Ophir men climbed the zig-zag to
+the mine. To Griffith, their voices dwindled to an indistinct murmur; a
+light glowed through the tent on the dump.
+
+The stranger pressed into Jeff's hand something small and hard--the
+little eohippus. "Here's your little old token. Pappy caught on at once
+and he sent me along to represent. Let's get this pack off and get out
+of here. Do we have to go down the same trail again?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Jeff. "There's a wood-trail leads round the mountain to
+the east. Who're you? I don't know you."
+
+"Charley Gibson. Pappy knows me. He sent the little stone horse to
+vouch for me. I'm O. K. Time enough to explain when we've made a clean
+getaway."
+
+"You're damn right there," Jeff said. "That boy down yonder is nobody's
+fool. I'll light a candle in the tent and he'll think I'm reading the
+newspapers. That'll hold him a while."
+
+"I'll be going on down the trail," said Gibson. "This way, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, that's the one. All right. Go slow and don't make any more noise
+than you can help."
+
+Jeff would have liked his own proper clothing and effects, but there
+was no time for resuscitation. Lighting the candle, he acquired "Alice
+in Wonderland" and thrust it into the bosom of his shirt. It had been
+years since last he read that admirable work; his way now led either
+to hiding or to jail--and, with Alice to share his fate, he felt equal
+to either fortune. He left the candle burning: the tent shone with a
+mellow glow.
+
+"If he didn't hear our horses coming down we're a little bit of all
+right," said Jeff, as he rejoined his rescuer on the level. "Even if he
+does, he may think we've gone to hobble 'em--only he'd think we ought
+to water 'em first. Now for the way of the transgressor, to Old Mexico.
+This little desert'll be one busy place to-morrow!"
+
+They circled Double Mountain, making a wide detour to avoid rough
+going, and riding at a hard gallop until, behind and to their right,
+a red spark of fire came into view from behind a hitherto intervening
+shoulder, marking where Stone and Harlow held the southward pass.
+
+Jeff drew rein and bore off obliquely toward the road at an easy trot.
+
+"They're there yet. So that's all right!" he said. "They've just put
+on fresh wood. I saw it flame up just then." He was in high feather.
+He began to laugh, or, more accurately, he resumed his laughter, for
+he had been too mirthful for much speech. "That poor devil Griffith
+will wait and fidget and stew! He'll think I'm in the tent, reading the
+newspapers--reading about the Arcadian bank robbery, likely. He'll wait
+a while, then he'll yell at me. Then he'll think we've gone to hobble
+the horses. He won't want to leave the gap unguarded. He won't know
+what to think. Finally he'll go up to the mine and see that pack piled
+off any which way, and no saddles. Then he'll know, but he won't know
+what to do. He'll think we're for Old Mexico, but he won't know it for
+sure. And it's too dark to track us. Oh, my stars, but I bet he'll be
+mad!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Which shows that we all make mistakes. Mr. Griffith, though young,
+was of firm character, as has been lightly intimated. He waited a
+reasonable time to allow for paper-reading, then he waited a little
+longer and shouted; but when there was no answer he knew at once
+precisely what had happened: he had not been a fool at all, whatever
+Steele and Bransford had assured him, and he was a bigger fool to
+have allowed himself to be persuaded that he had been. It is true
+that he didn't know what was best to do, but he knew exactly what he
+was going to do--and did it promptly. Seriously annoyed, he spurred
+through Double Mountain, gathered up Stone and Harlow, and followed the
+southward road. Bransford had been on the way to Old Mexico--he was on
+that road still; Griffith put everything on the one bold cast. While
+the others saddled he threw fresh fuel on the fire, with a rankling
+memory of the candle in the deserted tent and Hannibal at Saint Jo. For
+the first time Griffith had the better of the long battle of wits. That
+armful of fuel slowed Jeff from gallop to trot, turned assured victory
+into a doubtful contest; when the fugitives regained the El Paso road
+Griffith's vindictive little band was not five miles behind them.
+
+The night was lightly clouded--not so dark but that the pursuers
+noticed--or thought they noticed--the fresh tracks in the road when
+they came to them. They stopped, struck matches and confirmed their
+hopes: two shod horses going south at a smart gait; the dirt was torn
+up too much for travelers on their lawful occasions. From that moment
+Griffith urged the chase unmercifully; the fleeing couple, in fancied
+security, lost ground with every mile.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"How on earth did you manage it? Didn't they know you?" demanded Gibson
+as the pace slackened.
+
+"It wasn't me! It was Tobe Long! 'You may not have lived much under the
+sea, and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster,'" quoted
+Jeff. Rocking in the saddle, he gave a mirthful résumé of his little
+evanishment. "And, oh, just think of that candle burning away in that
+quiet, empty tent! If I could have seen Griffith's face!" he gloated.
+"Oh me! Oh my!... And he was so sure!... Say, Gibson, how do you come
+in this galley?" As a lone prospector his speech had been fittingly
+coarse; now, with every mile, he shook off the debasing influence of
+Mr. Long. "Kettle-washing makes black hands. Aren't you afraid you'll
+get into trouble?"
+
+"Nobody knows I'm kettle-washing, except Pappy Sanders and you," said
+Gibson. "I was careful not to let your friend see me at the fire."
+
+"I'll do you a good turn sometime," said Jeff. He rode on in silence
+for a while and presently was lost in his own thoughts, leaning over
+with his hands folded on his horse's neck. In a low and thoughtful
+voice he half repeated, half chanted to himself:
+
+    "Illilleo Legardi, in the garden there alone,
+    There came to me no murmur of the fountain's undertone
+    So mystically, magically mellow as your own!"
+
+Another silence. Then Jeff roused himself, with a start.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Gibson, you'd better cut loose from me. So far
+as I can see, you are only a kid. You don't want to get mixed up in a
+murder scrape. This would go pretty hard with you if they can prove it
+on you. Of course, I'm awfully obliged to you and all that; but you'd
+better quit me while the quitting's good."
+
+"Oh, no; I'll see you through," said Gibson lightly. "Besides, I know
+you had nothing to do with the murder."
+
+"Oh, the hell you do!" said Jeff. "That's kind of you, I'm sure. See
+here, who'd sold you your chips, anyway? How'd you get in this game?"
+
+"I got in this game, as you put it, because I jolly well wanted to,"
+replied Charley, with becoming spirit. "That ought to be reason enough
+for anything in this country. Nothing against it in the rules--and
+I don't use the rules, anyhow. If you must have it all spelled out
+for you--I knew, or at least I'd heard, that your friends were away
+from Rainbow; so I judged you wouldn't go up there. Then I knew those
+four amateur Sherlocks--they're in my set in Arcadia. When two of the
+deerhunters, after starting at two a.m., came back to Arcadia the same
+morning they left, looking all wise and important, and slipped off on
+the train to Escondido, saying nothing to any one--and when the other
+two didn't come home at all--I began to think; went down to the depot,
+found they had gone to Escondido, and I came on the next train. I found
+out Pappy was your friend; and when he got your little hurry-up call
+I volunteered my services, seeing Pappy was too old and not footloose
+anyhow--with a wife and property. That's the how of it."
+
+"Oh, yes, that's all right; but what makes you think I'm innocent?"
+
+"I know Mr. White, you see. And Mr. White seems to think that at about
+the time the bank was robbed you were--in a garden!" Charley's voice
+was edged with faint mockery.
+
+"Huh!" said Jeff, startled. "Who in hell is Mr. White?"
+
+"Mr. White--in hell--is the devil!" said Charley.
+
+At this unexpected disclosure Jeff lashed his horse to a gallop--his
+spurs, you remember, being certain feet under the Ophir dump--and
+strove to bring his thoughts to bear upon this new situation. He slowed
+down and Charley drew up beside him.
+
+"You seem to have stayed quite a while--in a garden," suggested Charley.
+
+"That tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble yet," said Jeff.
+"You'll never live to be grayheaded."
+
+Charley was not to be daunted.
+
+"Say, Jeff, she's pretty easy to get acquainted with, what? And those
+eyes of hers--a little on the see-you-later style, aren't they?"
+
+Jeff turned in his saddle.
+
+"Now you look here, Mr. Charley Gibson! I'm under obligations to you,
+and so on--but I've heard all of that kind of talk that's good--_sabe_?"
+
+"Oh, I know her," persisted Charley. "Know her by heart--know her like
+a book. She made a fool of me, too. She drives 'em single, double,
+tandem, random and four abreast!"
+
+"You little beast!" Jeff launched his horse at the traducer, but Gibson
+spurred aside.
+
+"Stop now, Jeffy! Easy does it! I've got a gun!"
+
+"Shut your damn head then! Gun or no gun, don't you take that girl's
+name in your mouth again, or----Hark! What's that?"
+
+It was a clatter far behind--a ringing of swift hoofs on hard ground.
+
+"By George, they're coming! Griffith will be a man yet!" said Jeff
+approvingly. "Come on, kid; we've got to burn the breeze! I suppose
+that talk of yours is only your damn fool idea of fun, but I don't like
+it. Cut it out, now, and ride like a drunk Indian!" He laughed loud
+and long. "Think o' that candle, will you?--burning away with a clear,
+bright, steady flame, and nobody within ten miles of it!"
+
+They raced side by side; but Gibson, heedless of their perilous
+situation, or perhaps taking advantage of it, took a malicious delight
+in goading Jeff to madness; and he refused either to be silent or to
+talk about candles, notwithstanding Jeff's preference for that topic.
+
+"I'm not joking! I'm telling you for your own good." Here the tormentor
+prudently fell back half a length and raised his voice so as to be
+heard above the flying feet. "Hasn't she gone back to New York, I'd
+like to know, and left you to get out of it the best way you can? She
+could 'a' stayed if she'd wanted to. Don't tell me! Haven't I seen how
+she bosses her mother round? No, sir! She's willing to let you hang to
+save herself a little slander--or, more likely, a little talk!"
+
+Jeff whirled his horse to his haunches, but once more Gibson was too
+quick for him. Gibson's horse was naturally the nimbler of the two,
+even without the advantage of spurs.
+
+"That's a lie! She was going to tell--she was bound to tell; I made her
+keep silent. After I jumped out she couldn't well say anything. That's
+why I jumped. Was I going to make her a target for such vile tongues
+as yours--for me? Oh! You ought to be shot out of a red-hot cannon,
+through a barbed-wire fence, into hell! You lie, you coward, you know
+you lie! I'll cram it down your throat if you'll get off and throw that
+gun down!"
+
+"Yah! It's likely I'll put the gun down!" scoffed Gibson. "Ride on, you
+fool! Do you want to hang? Ride on and keep ahead! Remember, I've got
+the gun!"
+
+"Hanging's not so bad," snarled Jeff. "I'd rather be hung decently
+than be such a thing as you! Oh, if I just had a gun!"
+
+The sound of pursuit was clearer now; and, of course, the pursuers
+could hear the pursued as well and fought for every inch.
+
+Jeff rode on, furious at his helplessness. For several miles his
+tormentor raced behind in silence, fearing, if he persisted longer
+in his evil course, that Jeff would actually stop and give himself
+up. They gained now on their pursuers, who had pressed their horses
+overhard to make up the five-mile handicap.
+
+As they came to a patch of sandy ground they eased the pace somewhat.
+Charley drew a little closer to Jeff.
+
+"Now don't get mad. I had no idea you thought so much of the girl----"
+
+"Shut up, will you?"
+
+"----or I wouldn't have deviled you so. I'll quit. How was I to know
+you'd stop to fight for her with the very rope round your neck? It's
+a pity she'll never know about it.... You can't have seen her more
+than two or three times--and Heaven only knows where that was! On that
+camping trip, I reckon. What kind of a girl is she, anyhow, to hold
+clandestine interviews with a stranger?... She'll write to you by and
+by--a little scented note, with a little stilted, meaningless word of
+thanks. No, she won't. It'll be gushy: 'Oh, my hero! How can I ever
+repay you?' She won't let you out of her clutches--anybody, so long as
+it's a man! Here! None o' that!... Go on, now, if you want to live!"
+
+"_Who the hell wants to live?_"
+
+A noose flew back from the darkness. Jeff's horse darted aside and
+Gibson was jerked sprawling to the sand at a rope's end--hat flew one
+way, gun another. Jeff ran to the six-shooter.
+
+"Who's got the gun now?" he jeered, as he loosened the rope. "I only
+wish we had two of 'em!"
+
+"You harebrained idiot!" Charley grabbed up his hat and spit sand from
+his mouth. "Get your horse and ride, you unthinkable donkey!"
+
+"Pleasure first, business afterward!" Jeff unbuckled Gibson's gunbelt
+and transferred it to his own waist, jerking Gibson to his feet in the
+violent process. "Now, you little blackguard, you either take back all
+that or you'll get the lickin' o' your life! You're too small; but all
+the same----"
+
+"Oh, I'll take it back, you big bully--all I said and a lot more I only
+thought!" said Charley spitefully. He was almost crying with rage as
+he limped to his horse. "She's an angel on earth! Sure she is! Ride,
+you maniac--ride! Oh, you ought to be hung! I hope you do hang--you
+miserable ruffian!"
+
+The following hoofs no longer rang sharply; they took on a muffled
+beat--they were in the sand's edge not a mile behind.
+
+"Ride ahead, you! I've got the gun, remember!" observed Jeff
+significantly; "but if you slur that girl again I'll not shoot
+you--I'll naturally wear you out with this belt."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV
+
+                                GOOD-BY
+
+    "They have ridden the low moon out of the sky; their hoofs drum up
+    the dawn."--_Two Strong Men_, KIPLING.
+
+
+"I'm not speaking of her and I'm not going to," protested Gibson, in a
+changed tone. "I'll promise! My horse is failing, Jeff. I rode hard and
+fast from Escondido. Your horse carried nothing much but a saddle--that
+pack was mostly bluff, you know. And those fellows' horses have come
+twenty miles less than either of ours."
+
+No answer.
+
+"I don't believe we're going to make it, Jeff!" There was a forlorn
+little quaver in Charley's voice.
+
+Jeff grunted. "Uh! Maybe not. Griffith'll be real pleased."
+
+Gibson rode closer. "Can't we turn off the road and hide?"
+
+"Till daylight," said Jeff. "Then they'll get us. No way out of this
+desert except across the edges somewhere. You go if you want to. They
+won't bother to hunt for you, maybe, if they get me."
+
+"No. It's my fault.... I'll see it out.... I'm sorry, Jeff--but it was
+so funny!" Here, rather to Jeff's surprise, Charley's dejection gave
+place to laughter.
+
+They rode up a sandy slope where mesquites grew black along the road.
+Blown sand had lodged to hummocks in their thick and matted growth; the
+road was a sunken way.
+
+"How far is it from here, Jeff?"
+
+"Ten miles--maybe only eight--to the river. We're in Texas now--have
+been for an hour."
+
+"Think we can make it?"
+
+"_Quien sabe?_"
+
+Gibson drew rein. "You go on. Your horse isn't so tired."
+
+"Oh, I guess not!" said Jeff. "Come on."
+
+The sound of pursuit came clear through the quiet night. There was
+silence for a little.
+
+"What'll you do, Jeff? Fight?"
+
+"I can't!" said Jeff. "Hurt those boys? I couldn't fight, the way it
+is--hardly, even if 'twas the sheriff. I'll just hang, I reckon."
+
+They reached the top of the little slope and turned down the other side.
+
+"I don't altogether like this hanging idea," said Gibson. "I got you
+into this, Jeff; so I'll just get you out again--like the man in our
+town who was so wondrous wise. Going to use bramble bushes, too."
+Volatile Gibson, in the stress of danger, had forgotten his wrath. He
+was light-hearted and happy, frivolously gay. "Give me your rope and
+your gun, Jeff. Quick now! No, I won't mention your girl--not once!
+Hurry!"
+
+"What you going to do?" asked Jeff, thoroughly mystified.
+
+"Ever read the 'Fool's Errand'?" Charley chuckled. "No? Well, I have.
+Jump off and tie the end of your rope to that mesquite root. Quick!"
+
+He sprang down, snatched one end of the coil from Jeff's hand and
+stretched it taut across the road, a foot from the ground. "Now your
+gun! Quick!"
+
+He snatched the gun, tied an end of his own saddle-rope to the
+stretched one, near the middle, plunged through the mesquite, over a
+hummock, paying out his rope as he went; wedged the gun firmly in the
+springing crotch of a mesquite tree, cocked it and tied the loose end
+of the trailing rope to the trigger. He ran back and sprang on his
+horse.
+
+"Now ride! It's our last chance!"
+
+"Kid, you're a wonder!" said Jeff. "You'll do to take along! They'll
+lope up when they turn down that slope, hit that rope and pile in a
+heap!"
+
+"And my rope will fire the gun off!" shrilled joyous Charley. "They'll
+think it's us--an ambuscade----"
+
+"They'll take to the sand-hills," Jeff broke in. "They'll shoot into
+the bushes--they'll think it's us firing back, half the time....
+They'll scatter out and surround that lonesome, harmless motte and
+watch it till daylight. You bet they won't go projecting round it any
+till daylight, either!" He looked up at the sky. "There's the morning
+star. See it? 'They have ridden the low moon out of the sky'--only
+there isn't any moon--'their hoofs drum up the dawn.' Then they'll
+find our tracks--and if I only could see the captain's face! 'Oh, my
+threshings, and the corn of my floor!'... And by then we'll be in
+Mexico and asleep.... When Griffith finds that gun--oh, he'll never
+show his head in Arcadia again!... Say, Charley, I hope none of 'em get
+hurt when they strike your skip-rope."
+
+"Huh! It's sandy! A heap you cared about me getting hurt when you
+dragged me from my horse!" said Gibson, rather snappishly. "You did
+hurt me, too. You nearly broke my neck and you cut my arms. And I got
+full of mesquite thorns when I set that gun. You don't care! I'm only
+the man that came to save your neck. That's the thanks I get! But the
+men that are trying to hang you--that's different! You'd better go
+back. They might get hurt. You'll be sorry sometime for the way you've
+treated me. There--it's too late now!"
+
+A shot rang behind them. There was a brief silence. Then came a sharp
+fusillade, followed by scattering shots, dwindling to longer intervals.
+
+Jeff clung to his saddle-horn.
+
+"I guess they ain't hurt much," he laughed. "Wish I could see 'em when
+they find out! Slow down, kid. We've got lots of time now."
+
+"We haven't," protested Charley. "Keep moving. It's hard on the horses,
+but they'll have a lifetime to rest in. They've telegraphed all over
+the country. You want to cross the river before daylight. It would be
+too bad for you to be caught now! Is there any ford, do you know?"
+
+"Not this time of year. River's up."
+
+"Cross in a boat then?"
+
+"Guess we'd better. That horse of yours is pretty well used up. Don't
+believe he could swim it."
+
+"Oh, I'm not going over. I'll get up to El Paso. I've got friends
+there."
+
+"You'll get caught."
+
+"No, I won't. I'm not going across, I tell you, and that's all there
+is to it! I guess I'll have something to say about things. I'm going
+to see you safely over, and that's the last you'll ever see of Charley
+Gibson."
+
+"Oh, well!" Jeff reflected a little. "If you're sure you won't come
+along, I'd rather swim. My horse is strong yet. You see, it takes time
+to find a boat, and a boat means a house and dogs; and I'll need my
+horse on the other side. How'll you get to El Paso? Griffith'll likely
+come down here about an hour by sun, 'cross lots, a-cryin'."
+
+"I'll manage that," said Gibson curtly enough. "You tend to your own
+affair."
+
+"Oh, all right!" Jeff rode ahead. He whistled; then he chanted his war
+song:
+
+    "Said the little Eohippus:
+      'I'm going to be a horse!
+    And on my middle finger-nails
+      To run my earthly course!'
+    The Coryphodon was horrified;
+      The Dinoceras was shocked;
+    And they chased young Eohippus,
+      But he skipped away and mocked.
+
+    "Said they: 'You always were as small
+      And mean as now we see,
+    And that's conclusive evidence
+      That you're always going to be.
+    What! Be a great, tall, handsome beast,
+      With hoofs to gallop on?
+    Why! You'd have to change your nature!'
+      Said the Loxolophodon."
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+"Well?" Jeff turned his head. Charley was drooping visibly.
+
+"Stop that foolish song!"
+
+Jeff rode on in silence. This was a variable person, Gibson. They were
+dropping down from the mesa into the valley of the Rio Grande.
+
+"Jeff!"
+
+Jeff fell back beside Charley. "Tired, pardner?"
+
+"Jeff, I'm terribly tired! I'm not used to riding so far; and I'm
+sleepy--so sleepy!"
+
+"All right, pardner; we'll go slower. We'll walk. Most there now.
+There's the railroad."
+
+"Keep on trotting. I can stand it. We must get to the river before
+daylight. Is it far?" Charley's voice was weary. The broad sombrero
+drooped sympathetically.
+
+"Two miles to the river. El Paso's seven or eight miles up the line.
+Brace up, old man! You've done fine and dandy! It's just because the
+excitement is all over. Why should you go any farther, anyhow? There's
+Ysleta up the track a bit. Follow the road up there and flag the first
+train. That'll be best."
+
+"No, no. I'll go all the way. I'll make out." Charley straightened
+himself with an effort.
+
+They crossed the Espee tracks and came to a lane between cultivated
+fields.
+
+"Jeff! I'd like to say something. It won't be breaking my promise
+really.... I didn't mean what I said about--you know. I was only
+teasing. She's a good enough girl, I guess--as girls go."
+
+Jeff nodded. "I did not need to be told that."
+
+"And you left her in a cruel position when you jumped out of the
+window. She can't tell now, so long as there's any other way. What a
+foolish thing to do! If you'd just said at first that you were in the
+garden----Oh, why didn't you? But after the chances you took rather
+than to tell--why, Jeff, it would be terrible for her now."
+
+"I know that, too," said Jeff. "I suppose I was a fool; but I didn't
+want her to get mixed up with it, and at the same time I cared less
+about hanging than any time I can remember. You see, I didn't know till
+the last minute that the garden was going to cut any figure. And do you
+suppose I'd have that courthouseful of fools buzzing and whispering at
+her? Not much! Maybe it was foolish--but I'm glad I did it."
+
+"I'm glad of it, too. If you had to be a fool," said Charley, "I'm glad
+you were that kind of a fool. Are you still mad at me?"
+
+Since Charley had recanted, and more especially since he had taken
+considerate thought for the girl's compulsory silence, Jeff's anger had
+evaporated.
+
+"That's all right, pardner.... Only you oughtn't never to talk that way
+about a girl--even for a joke. That's no good kind of a joke. Men, now,
+that's different. See here, I'll give you an order to a fellow in El
+Paso--Hibler--to pay for your horses and your gun. Here's your belt,
+too."
+
+Charley shook his head impatiently. "I don't want any money. Settle
+with Pappy for the horses. I won't take this one back. Keep the belt.
+You may want it to beat me with sometime. What are you going to do,
+Jeff? Aren't you ever coming back?"
+
+"Sure I'll come back--if only to see Griffith again. I'll write to John
+Wesley Pringle--he's my mainest side pardner--and sick him on to find
+out who robbed that bank--to prove it, rather. I just about almost
+nearly know who it was. Old Wes'll straighten things out a-flying. I'll
+be back in no time. I got to come back, Charley!"
+
+The river was in sight. The stars were fading; there was a flush in the
+east, a smell of dawn in the air.
+
+"Jeff, I wish you'd do something for me."
+
+"Sure, Charley. What is it?"
+
+"I wish you'd give me that little turquoise horse to remember you by."
+
+Jeff was silent for a little. He had framed out another plan for the
+little eohippus--namely, to give him to Miss Ellinor. He sighed; but he
+owed a good deal to Charley.
+
+"All right, Charley. Take good care of him--he's a lucky little horse.
+I think a heap of him. Here we are!"
+
+The trees were distinct in the growing light. Jeff rode into the river;
+the muddy water swirled about his horse's knees. He halted for parting;
+Gibson rode in beside him. Jeff took the precious Alice book from
+his bosom, put it in the crown of his miner's cap and jammed the cap
+tightly on his head.
+
+"Better change your mind, Charley. Come along. We'll rout somebody out
+and order a dish of stewed eggs.
+
+    "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
+    The farther off from England the nearer 'tis to France;
+    Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
+    Will you--won't you----"
+
+"'No, I won't! I told you once!'" snapped the beloved snail.
+
+"Here's the little eohippus horse then." As Charley took it Jeff wrung
+his hand. "By George, I've got to change my notion of Arcadia people.
+If there's many like you and Griffith, Arcadia's going to crowd the
+map!... Well--so long!"
+
+"It looks awful wide, Jeff!"
+
+"Oh, I'll be all right--swim it myself if the horse plays out--and
+if I don't have no cramps, as I might, of course, after this ride.
+Well--here goes nothin'! Take care of the little horse. I hope he
+brings you good luck!"
+
+"Well--so long, then!"
+
+Bransford rode into the muddy waters. They came to the horse's breast,
+his neck; he plunged in, sank, rose, and was borne away down the swift
+current, breasting the flood stoutly--and so went quartering across
+to the farther bank. It took a long time. It was quite light when
+the horse found footing on a sandbar half a mile below, rested, and
+splashed whitely through the shallows to the bank. Gibson swung his
+sombrero. Jeff waved his hand, rode to the fringing bushes, and was
+gone.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI
+
+                         THE LAND OF AFTERNOON
+
+    "Dreaming once more love's old sad dream divine."
+
+
+Los Baños de Santa Eulalia Del Norte, otherwise known as Mud Springs,
+is a Mexican hamlet with one street of about the same length. Los Baños
+and Co. lies in a loop of the Rio Grande, half of a long day from El
+Paso, in mere miles; otherwise a contemporary of Damascus and Arpad.
+
+Thither, mindful of the hot springs which supply the preliminaries of
+the name, Mr. Bransford made his way: mindful too, of sturdy old Don
+Francisco, a friend twice bound by ancient service given and returned.
+
+He climbed the slow long ridges to the high _mesa_: for the river bent
+here in a long ox-bow, where a bold promontory shouldered far out to
+bar the way: weary miles were to be saved by crossing the neck of this
+ox-bow, and the tough horse tired and lagged.
+
+The slow sun rose as he reached the Rim. It showed the wide expanse
+of desert behind him, flooded with trembling light; eastward, beyond
+the river, the buttressed and fantastic peaks of Fray Cristobal; their
+jutting shadows streaming into the gulf beyond, athwart the silvery
+ribbon of gleaming water, twining in mazy loops across the valley
+floor: it showed the black Rim at his feet, a frowning level wall of
+lava cliff, where the plain broke abruptly into the chasm beneath;
+the iron desolation of the steep sides, boulder-strewn, savage and
+forbidding:
+
+    "_A land of old up-heaven from the abyss._"
+
+Long since, there had been a flourishing Mexican town in the valley.
+A wagonroad had painfully climbed a long ridge to the Rim, twisting,
+doubling, turning, clinging hazardously to the hillside, its outer
+edge a wall built up with stone, till it came to the shoulder under
+the tremendous barrier. From there it turned northward, paralleling
+the Rim in mile-long curve above a deep gorge; turning, in a last
+desperate climb, to a solitary gateway in the black wall, torn out
+by flood-waters through slow centuries. Smallpox had smitten the
+people; the treacherous river had devastated the fertile valley, and,
+subsiding, left the rich fields a waste of sand. The town was long
+deserted; the disused road was gullied and torn by flood, the soil
+washed away, leaving a heaped and crumbled track of tangled stone. But
+it was the only practicable way as far as the sand-hills, and Jeff led
+his horse down the ruined path, with many a turning back and scrambling
+detour.
+
+The shadows of the eastern hills drew back before him as he reached the
+sand-dunes. When he rode through the silent streets of what had been
+Alamocita, the sun peered over Fray Cristobal, gilding the crumbling
+walls, where love and laughter had made music, where youth and hope
+and happiness had been.... Silent now and deserted, given over to
+lizard and bat and owl, the smiling gardens choked with sand and grass,
+springing with _mesquite_ and _tornillo_; a few fruit trees, gnarled
+and tangled, drooping for days departed, when young mothers sang low
+lullaby beneath their branches.... Passed away and forgotten--hopes and
+fears, tears and smiles, birth and death, joy and sorrow, hatred and
+sin and shame, falsehood and truth and courage and love. The sun shone
+cheerfully on these gray ruins--as it has shone on a thousand such, and
+will shine.
+
+Jeff turned down the river, past the broken _acequias_, to where
+a massive spur of basaltic rock had turned the fury of the floods
+and spared a few fields. In this sheltered cove dwelt Don Francisco
+Escobar in true pastoral and patriarchal manner; his stalwart sons
+and daughters, with their sons and daughters in turn, in clustering
+_adobes_ around him: for neighbors, the allied family of Gonzales y
+Ortega.
+
+A cheerful settlement, this of Los Baños, nestling at the foot of the
+friendly rampart, sheltered alike from flood and wind. South and west
+the close black Rim walled the horizon, the fantasy of Fray Cristobal
+closed in the narrow east: but northward, beyond the low sand-hills and
+the blue heat-haze, the high peaks of Organ, Guadalupe and Rainbow swam
+across the sleepy air, far and soft and dim.
+
+In their fields the _gente_ of Gonzales y Ortega and of Escobar raised
+ample crops of alfalfa, wheat, corn, _frijoles_ and _chili_, with
+orchard, vineyard and garden. Their cows, sheep and goats grazed the
+foothills between river and Rim, watched by the young men or boys,
+penned nightly in the great corrals in the old Spanish fashion; as if
+the Moor still swooped and forayed. Their horses roamed the hills at
+will, only a few being kept in the alfalfa pasture. They ground their
+own grain, tanned their cow-hides at home. Mattress and pillow were
+wool of their raising, their blankets and cloth their own weave. There
+were granaries, a wine-press, a forge, a cumbrous stone mill, a great
+_adobe_ oven like a monstrous bee-hive.
+
+Once a year their oxen drew the great high-sided wagons up the sandy
+road to El Paso, and returned with the year's marketing--salt, axes,
+iron and steel, powder and lead, bolts of white domestic or _manta_
+for sheets and shirtings, matches, tea, coffee, tobacco and sugar.
+Perhaps, if the saints had been kind, there were a few ribbons,
+trinkets or brightly colored prints of Joseph and Virgin and Child, St.
+John the Beloved, The Annunciation, The Children and Christ; perhaps an
+American rifle or a plow. But, for the most part, they held not with
+innovations; plowed, sowed and reaped as their fathers did, threshing
+with oxen or goats.
+
+The women sewed by hand, cooked on fireplaces; or, better still, in
+the open air under the trees, with few and simple utensils. The family
+ate from whitest and cleanest of sheepskins spread on the floor.
+But, the walls were snowy with whitewash, the earthen floors smooth
+and clean, the coarse linen fresh and white. The scant furniture of
+the rooms--a pine bed, a chair or two, a mirror, a brass candlestick
+(with home-made candles), a cheap print on the wall, a great chest for
+clothes, blankets and simple treasures, the bright fire in the cozy
+fireplace--all combined to give an indescribable air of cheerfulness,
+of homely comfort and of rest. This quiet corner, where people still
+lived as simply as when Abraham went up from Ur of the Chaldees, in
+the spring-time of the world, held, for seeing eyes, an incommunicable
+charm.
+
+When Jeff came at last to Casa Escobar, the cattle were already on the
+hills, the pigs and chickens far afield. Don Francisco, white-haired,
+erect, welcomed him eagerly, indeed, but with stately courtesy.
+
+"Is it thou indeed, my son? Now, my old eyes are gladdened this day.
+Enter, then, _amigo mio_, thrice-welcome--the house is thine in very
+truth. Nay, the young men shall care for thy horse."
+
+He raised his voice. Three tall sons, Abran, Zenobio, Donociano, came
+at the summons, gave Bransford grave greeting, and stood to await their
+father's commands. Fathers of families themselves, they presumed not to
+sit unbidden, to join in the conversation, or to loiter.
+
+Breakfast was served presently, in high state, on the table reserved
+for honored guests. Savory venison, chile, fish, eggs, _tortillas_,
+_etole_, _enchiladas_, cream and steaming coffee--such was the fare.
+Don Francisco sat gravely by to bear him company, while a silently
+hovering damsel anticipated every need.
+
+Thence, when his host could urge no more upon him, to the deep
+shading cottonwoods. Wine was brought and the "makings" of
+cigarettes--corn-husks, handcut; a great jar of tobacco; and a brazier
+of mesquite embers. At a little distance women washed, wove or
+sewed; the young men made buckskin, fashioned quirts, whips, ropes,
+bridle-reins, tie-straps, hobbles, pack-sacks and _chaparejos_ of
+raw-hide; made cinches of horse-hair; wrought ox-yokes, plow-beams and
+other things needful for their simple husbandry.
+
+Meanwhile, Don Francisco entertained his guest with grave and leisurely
+recital of the year's annals. Mateo, son of Sebastian, had slain a
+great bear in the Pass of All the Winds; Alicia, daughter of their
+eldest, was wed with young Roman de la O, of Cañada Nogales, to the
+much healing of feud and ancient hatred; Diego, son of Eusebio, was
+proving a bold and fearless rider of wild horses, with reason, as
+behooved his father's son; he had carried away the _gallo_ at the
+_Fiesta de San Juan_, with the fleet dun colt "creased" from the wild
+bunch at Quemado; the herds had grown, the crops prospered, all sorrow
+passed them by, through the intercession of the blessed saints.
+
+The year's trophies were brought. He fingered with simple pride the
+great pelt of the silver-tip. Antlers there were and lion-skins,
+gleaming prisms of quartz, flint arrowheads and agates brought in by
+the shepherds, the costly Navajo blanket won by the fleet-limbed dun at
+Cañada races.
+
+Hither came presently another visitor--Florentino, breaker of wild
+horses, despite his fifty years; wizened and withered and small,
+merry and cheerful, singer of forgotten folk-songs; chanting, even
+as he came, the song of Macario Romero--Macario, riding joyous and
+light-hearted, spite of warning, omen and sign, love-lured to doom and
+death.
+
+    "'Concedame una licencia
+      Voy á ir á ver á me Chata.'
+
+    "Dice Macario Romero,
+      Parando en los estribos:
+    'Madre, pues, esto voy á ver,
+      Si todos son mis amigos!'"
+
+And so, listening, weary and outworn, Jeff fell asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Observe now, how Nature insists upon averages. Mr. Jeff Bransford was,
+as has been seen, an energetic man; but outraged nerves will have their
+revenge. After making proper amends to his damaged eye, Jeff's remnant
+of energy kept up long enough to dispatch young Tomas Escobar y Mendoza
+to El Paso with a message to Hibler: which message enjoined Hibler at
+once to carry tidings to John Wesley Pringle, somewhere in Chihuahua,
+asking him kindly to set right what Arcadian times were out of joint,
+as he, Jeff, felt the climate of Old Mexico more favorable for his
+throat trouble than that of New Mexico; with a postscript asking Hibler
+for money by bearer. And young Tomas was instructed to buy, at Juarez,
+a complete outfit of clothing for Jeff, including a gun.
+
+This done, the reaction set in--aided, perhaps, by the enervating
+lassitude of the hot baths and the sleepy atmosphere of that forgotten
+village. Jeff spent the better part of a week asleep, or half awake
+at best. He had pleasant dreams, too. One--perhaps the best dream
+of all--was that on their wedding trip they should follow again the
+devious line of his flight from Arcadia. That would need a prairie
+schooner--no, a prairie steamboat--a prairie yacht! He would tell her
+all the hideous details--show her the mine, the camp of the besiegers,
+the ambuscade on the road. And if he could have Ellinor meet Griffith
+and Gibson for a crowning touch!
+
+After the strenuous violence of hand-strokes, here was a drowsy and
+peaceful time. The wine of that land was good, the shade pleasant,
+the Alician philosophy more delightful than of yore; he had all the
+accessories, but one, of an earthly paradise.
+
+Man is ungrateful. Jeff was a man; neglectful of present bounties, his
+dreaming thoughts were all of the absent accessory and of a time when
+that absence should be no more, nor paradise be empty.
+
+Life, like the Gryphon's classical master, had taught him Laughter
+and Grief. He turned now the forgotten pages of the book of his
+years. Enough black pages were there; as you will know well, having
+yourself searched old records before now, with tears. He cast up that
+long account--the wasted lendings, the outlawed debts, the dishonored
+promises, the talents of his stewardship, unprofitable and brought
+to naught; set down--how gladly!--the items on the credit side. So
+men have set the good upon one side and the evil on the other since
+Crusoe's day, and before; against the time when the Great Accountant,
+Whose values are not ours, shall strike a final balance.
+
+Take that book at your elbow--yes, either one; it doesn't matter. Now
+turn to where the hero first discovers his frightful condition--long
+after it has become neighborhood property.... He bent his head in
+humility. He was not worthy of her!... Something like that? Those may
+not be the precise words; but he groaned. He always groans. By-the-way,
+how this man-saying must amuse womankind! Yes, and they actually say it
+too--real, live, flesh-and-blood men. Who was it said life was a poor
+imitation of literature? Happily, either these people are insincere or
+they reconsider the matter--else what should we do for families?
+
+It is to be said that Jeff Bransford lacked this becoming delicacy.
+If he groaned he swore also; if he decided that Miss Ellinor Hoffman
+deserved a better man than he was, he also highly resolved that she
+should not have him.
+
+"For, after all, you know," said Jeff to Alice:
+
+    "I'm sure he's nothing extra--a quiet man and plain,
+    And modest--though there isn't much of which he could be vain.
+    And had I mind to chant his praise, this were the kindest line--
+    Somehow, she loves him dearly--this little love of mine!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII
+
+                           TWENTIETH CENTURY
+
+    "And there that hulking Prejudice
+      Sat all across the road.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    I took my hat, I took my coat,
+      My load I settled fair,
+    I approached that awful incubus
+      With an absent-minded air--
+    And I walked directly through him
+      As if he wasn't there!"
+
+                                --_An Obstacle_:
+                                CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON.
+
+
+Johnny Dines rode with a pleasant jingle down the shady street of Los
+Baños de Santa Eulalia del Norte. His saddle was new, carven, wrought
+with silver; his bridle shone as the sun, his spurs as bright stars;
+he shed music from his feet. Jeff saw him turn to Casa Escobar: apple
+blossoms made a fragrant lane for him. He paused at Jeff's tree.
+
+"_Alto alli!_" said Johnny. The words, as sharp command, can be managed
+in two brisk syllables. The sound is then: "_Altwai!_" It is a crisp
+and startling sound, and the sense of it in our idiom is: "Hands up!"
+
+Jeff had been taking a late breakfast _al fresco_; he made glad room on
+his bench.
+
+"Light, stranger, and look at your saddle! Pretty slick saddle, too.
+Guess your playmates must 'a' went home talking to themselves last
+night."
+
+"They're going to kill a maverick for you at Arcadia and give a
+barbecue," said Johnny. The cult of _nil admirari_ reaches its highest
+pitch of prosperity in the cow-countries, and Johnny knew that it was
+for him to broach tidings unasked.
+
+"Oh, that reminds me--how's old Lars Porsena?" said Jeff, now free to
+question.
+
+"Him? He's all right," said Johnny casually. "Goin' to marry one or
+more of the nurses. They're holdin' elimination contests now."
+
+"Say, Johnny, when you go back, I wish you'd tell him I didn't do it.
+Cross my heart and hope to die if I did!"
+
+"Oh, he knows it wasn't you!" said Johnny.
+
+Jeff shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"Evidence was pretty strong--pretty strong! Who was it then?"
+
+"Why, Lake himself--the old hog!"
+
+"If Lake keeps on like this he's going to have people down on him,"
+said Jeff. "Who did the holmesing--John Wesley?"
+
+"Oh, John Wesley! John Wesley!" said Dines scornfully. "You think the
+sun rises and sets in old John Wesley Pringle. Naw; he didn't get back
+till it was all over. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little
+hatchet!"
+
+"Must have had it sharpened up!" said Jeff. "Tell it to me!"
+
+"Why, there isn't much to tell," said Dines, suddenly modest. "Come to
+think of it, I had right considerable help. There was a young college
+chap--he first put it into my head that it wasn't you."
+
+"That would be the devil?" said Jeff, ignoring the insult.
+
+"Just so. Name's White--and so's he: Billy White, S. M. and G. P."
+
+"I don't just remember them degrees," said Jeff.
+
+"Aw, keep still and you'll hear more. They stand for Some Man and Good
+People. Well, as I was a-saying, Billy he seemed to think it wasn't
+you. He stuck to it that Buttinski--that's what he calls you--was in a
+garden just when the bank was robbed."
+
+Johnny contemplated the apple tree over his head. It was a wandering
+and sober glance, but a muscle twitched in his cheek, and he made no
+further explanation about the garden.
+
+"And then I remembered about Nigger Babe throwin' you off, and I began
+to think maybe you didn't crack the safe after all. And there was some
+other things--little things--that made Billy and Jimmy Phillips--he was
+takin' cards in the game too--made 'em think maybe it was Lake; but it
+wasn't no proof--not to say proof. And there's where I come in."
+
+"Well?" said Jeff, as Johnny paused.
+
+"Simple enough, once you knowed how," said Johnny modestly. "I'd been
+reading lots of them detective books--Sherlock Holmes and all them
+fellows. I got Billy to have his folks toll Lake's sister away for the
+night, so she wouldn't be scared. Then me and Billy and Jimmy Phillips
+and Monte, we broke in and blowed up Lake's private safe. No trouble at
+all. Since the bank-robbin' every one had been tellin' round just how
+it ought to be done--crackin' safes. Funny how a fellow picks up little
+scraps of useful knowledge like that--things you'd think he'd remember
+might come in handy most any time--and then forgets all about 'em. I
+wrote it down this time. Won't forget it again."
+
+"Well?" said Jeff again.
+
+"Oh, yes. And there was the nice money--all the notes and all of the
+gold he could tote."
+
+Jeff's eye wandered to the new saddle.
+
+"I kept some of the yellow stuff as a souvenir--half a quart, or maybe
+a pint," said Johnny. "I don't want no reward for doin' a good deed....
+And that's all."
+
+"Lake is a long, ugly word," said Jeff thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, what do you say?" prompted Johnny.
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Jeff. "You showed marvelous
+penetration--marvelous! But say, Johnny, if the money hadn't been there
+wouldn't that have been awkward?"
+
+"Oh, Billy was pretty sure Lake was the man. And we figured he hadn't
+bothered to move it--you being the goat that way. What made you be
+a goat, Jeff? That whole performance was the most idiotic break I
+ever knew a grown-up man to get off. I knew you were not strictly
+accountable, but why didn't you say, 'Judge, your Honor, sir, at the
+time the bank was being robbed I was in a garden with a young lady,
+talking about the hereafter, the here and the heretofore?'"
+
+"On the contrary, what made your Billy think it was Lake?"
+
+Johnny told him, in detail.
+
+"Pretty good article of plain thinking, wasn't it?" he concluded. "Yet
+he mightn't have got started on the right track at all if he hadn't had
+the straight tip about your bein' in a garden." Johnny's eye reverted
+to the apple tree. "Lake found your noseguard, you know, where you
+left it. I reckon maybe he saw you leave it there.--Say, Jeff! Lake's
+grandfather must have been a white man. Anyhow, he's got one decent
+drop of blood in him, from somewhere. For when we arrested him, he
+didn't say a word about the garden. That was rather a good stunt, I
+think. Bully for Lake, just once!"
+
+"Right you are! And, Mr. J. Dines, I've been thinking----" Jeff began.
+
+Johnny glanced at him anxiously.
+
+"----and I've about come to the conclusion that we're some narrow
+contracted and bigoted on Rainbow. We don't know it all. We ain't the
+only pebble. From what I've seen of these Arcadia men they seem to be
+pretty good stuff--and like as not it's just the same way all along the
+beach. There's your Mr. White, and Griffith, and Gibson--did I tell you
+about Gibson?"
+
+Johnny flashed a brilliant smile. His smiles always looked larger than
+they really were, because Johnny was a very small man.
+
+"I saw Griffith and he gave me his version--several times. He's real
+upset, Griffith.... Last time he told me, he leaned up against my neck
+and wept because there was only ten commandments!"
+
+"Didn't see Gibson, did you? You know him?"
+
+"Nope. Pappy picked him up--or he picked Pappy up, rather. Hasn't
+been seen since. I guess Gibby, old boy, has gone to the wild bunch.
+He wouldn't suspect you of bein' innocent, and he dreamed he dwelt in
+marble walls, makin' shoes for the state. So he gets cold feet and he
+just naturally evaporates--good night!"
+
+"Yes--he said he was going to hike out, or something to that effect,"
+responded Jeff absently--the fact being that he was not thinking of
+Gibson, at all, but was pondering deeply upon Miss Ellinor Hoffman. Had
+she gone to New York according to the original plan? It did not seem
+probable. Her face stood out before him--bright, vivid, sparkling, as
+he had seen her last, in the court room of Arcadia. Good heavens! Was
+that only a week ago? Seven days? It seemed seven years!--No--she had
+not gone--at least, certainly not until she was sure that he, Jeff, had
+made good his escape. Then, perhaps, she might have gone. Perhaps her
+mother had made her go. Oh, well!--New York wasn't far, as he had told
+her that first wonderful day on Rainbow Rim. What a marvelous day that
+was!
+
+Jeff was suddenly struck with the thought that he had never seen
+Ellinor's mother. Great Scott! She had a father, too! How annoying! He
+meditated upon this unpleasant theme for a space. Then, as if groping
+in a dark room, he had suddenly turned on the light, his thought
+changed to--_What a girl! Ah, what a wonderful girl! Where is she?_
+
+Looking up, Jeff became once more aware of Johnny Dines, leg curled
+around the horn of the new saddle, elbow on knee, cheek on hand,
+contemplating his poor friend with benevolent pity. And then Jeff knew
+that he could make no queries of Johnny Dines.
+
+Johnny spake soothingly.
+
+"You are in North America. This is the Twentieth Century. Your name
+is Bransford. That round bright object is the sun. This direction is
+East. This way is called 'up.' This is a stream of water that you see.
+It is called the Rio River Grand Big. We are advertised by our loving
+friends. I cannot sing the old songs. There's a reason. Two of a kind
+flock together. Never trump your pardner's ace. It's a wise child that
+dreads the fire. Wake up! Come out of it! Change cars!"
+
+"I ought to kill you," said Jeff. "Now giggle, you idiot, and make
+everybody hate you!--Wait till I say _Adios_ to my old compadre and the
+rest of the Escobar _gente_ and I'll side you to El Paso."
+
+"Not I. Little Johnny, he'll make San Elizario ferry by noon and Helm's
+by dark. Thought maybe so you'd be going along."
+
+"Why, no," said Jeff uneasily. "I guess maybe I'll go up to El Paso and
+june around a spell."
+
+"Oh, well--just as you say! Such bein' the case, I'll be jogging."
+
+"Better wait till after dinner--I'll square it with Don Francisco
+if ... anything's missing."
+
+"No--that makes too long a jaunt for this afternoon. Me for San
+Elizario. So long!"
+
+But beyond the first _acequia_ he turned and rode back.
+
+"Funny thing, Jeff! Remember me telling you about a girl I saw on
+Mayhill, the day Nigger Babe throwed you off? Now, what was that girl's
+name?--I've forgotten again. Oh, yes!--Hoffman--Miss Ellinor Hoffman.
+Well--she's at Arcadia still. The mother lady was all for going back to
+New York--but, no, sir! Girl says she's twenty-one, likes Arcadia, and
+she's going to stay a spell. Leastwise, so I hear."
+
+"I _will_ kill you!" said Jeff. "Here, wait till I saddle my nag and
+say good-by."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Beyond San Elizario, as they climbed the Pass of All the Winds, the two
+friends halted to breathe their horses.
+
+"Jeff," said Johnny, rather soberly, "you can kick me after I say my
+little piece--I'll think poorly of you if you don't--but ain't you
+making maybe a mistake? That girl, now--nice girl, and all that--but
+that girl's got money, Jeff."
+
+"I hate a fool worse than a knave, any day in the week," said Jeff:
+"and the man that would let money keep him from the only girl--why,
+Johnny, he's so much more of a fool than the other fellow is a
+scoundrel----"
+
+"I get you!" said Johnny. "You mean that a submarine boat is better
+built for roping steers than a mogul engine is skilful at painting
+steeples, and you wonder if you can't get a fresh horse somewhere and
+go on through to Arcadia to-night?"
+
+"Something like that," admitted Jeff. "Besides," he added lightly,
+"while I'd like that girl just as well if I didn't have a cent--why, as
+it happens, I'm pretty well fixed, myself. I've got money to throw at
+the little dicky-birds--all kinds of money. Got a fifty-one-per-cent
+interest in a copper mine over in Harqua Hala that's been payin' me all
+the way from ten to five thousand clear per each and every year for the
+last seven years, besides what I pay a lad for lookout to keep anybody
+but himself from stealing any of it. He's been buyin' real estate for
+me in Los Angeles lately."
+
+Johnny's jaw dropped in unaffected amazement.
+
+"All this while? Before you and Leo hit Rainbow?"
+
+"Sure!" said Jeff.
+
+"And you workin' for forty a month and stealin' your own beef?--then
+saving up and buying your little old brand along with Beebe and Leo and
+old Wes', joggin' along, workin' like a yaller dog with fleas?"
+
+"Why not? Wasn't I having a heap of fun? Where can I see any better
+time than I had here, or find better friends? Money's no good by
+itself. I haven't drawn a dollar from Arizona since I left. It was fun
+to make the mine go round at first; but when it got so it'd work I
+looked for something else more amusing."
+
+"I should think you'd want to travel, anyhow."
+
+"Travel?" echoed Jeff. "Travel? Why, you damn fool, I'm here now!"
+
+"Will you stay here, if you marry her, Jeff?"
+
+"So you've no objection to make, if I've got a few dollars? That
+squares everything all right, does it? Not a yeep of protest from
+you now? See here, you everlasting fool! I'm just the same man I was
+fifteen minutes ago when you thought I didn't have any money. If I'm
+fit for her now, I was then. If I wasn't good enough then, I'm not good
+enough now."
+
+"But I wasn't thinking of her--I was thinking of--how it would look."
+
+"Look? Who cares how it looks? Just a silly prejudice! 'They say--what
+say they--let them say!' Johnny, maybe I was just stringin' you. If I
+was lying about the money--how about it then? Changed your mind again?"
+
+"You wasn't lyin', was you?"
+
+"Shan't tell you! It doesn't really make any difference, anyhow."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                         AT THE RAINBOW'S END
+
+    "Helen's lips are drifting dust;
+    Ilion is consumed with rust;
+    All the galleons of Greece
+    Drink the ocean's dreamless peace;
+    Lost was Solomon's purple show
+    Restless centuries ago;
+    Stately empires wax and wane--
+    Babylon, Barbary and Spain--
+    Only one thing, undefaced,
+    Lasts, though all the worlds lie waste
+    And the heavens are overturned,
+    --Dear, how long ago we learned!"
+
+                   --FREDERICK LAWRENCE KNOWLES.
+
+
+Starlit and moonlight leagues, the slow, fresh dawn; in the cool of
+the morning, Bransford came to the crest of the ground-swell known as
+Frenchman's Ridge, and saw low-lying Arcadia dim against the north, a
+toy town huddling close to the shelter of Rainbow Range; he splashed
+through the shallow waters of Alamo, failing to a trickle before it
+sank in the desert sands; and so came at last to the moat of Arcadia.
+With what joyous and eager-choking heart-beat you may well guess: not
+the needlessness of those swift pulses or of that joy. For Ellinor was
+not there. With Mrs. Hoffman, she had gone to visit the Sutherlands at
+Rainbow's End. And Jeff could not go on. Arcadia rose to greet him in
+impromptu Roman holiday.
+
+Poor Bransford has never known clearly what chanced on that awful day.
+There is a jumbled, whirling memory of endless kaleidoscopic troops of
+joyful Arcadians: Billy White, Monte, Jimmy, Clarke, the grim-smiling
+sheriff, the judge. It was dimly borne upon him by due or both of the
+two last, that there were yet certain formalities to be observed in the
+matter of his escape from custody of the Law and of the horse he had
+borrowed from the court house square. Indeed, it seemed to Jeff, in a
+hazy afterthought, that perhaps the sheriff had arrested him again. If
+so, it had slipped Jeff's mind, swallowed up in a gruesome horror of
+congratulations, hand-shakings, back-slappings, badinage and questions;
+heaped on a hero heartsick, dazed and dumb. Pleading weariness, he tore
+himself away at last, almost by violence, and flung himself down in a
+darkened bedroom of the Arcadian Atalanta.
+
+One thing was clear. Headlight was there, Aforesaid Smith, Madison:
+but his nearest friends, Pringle, Beebe and Ballinger, though they had
+hasted back to Arcadia to fight Jeff's battles, were ostentatiously
+absent from his hollow and hateful triumph: Johnny Dines had pointedly
+refused to share his night ride from Helm's: and Jeff knew why, sadly
+enough. The gods take pay for the goods they give: and now that goodly
+fellowship was broken. The thought clung fast: it haunted his tossing
+and troubled slumbers, where Ellinor came through a sunset glow,
+swift-footed to meet him: where his friends rode slow and silent into
+the glimmering dusk, smaller and smaller, black against the sky.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Sutherland place made an outer corner of Rainbow's End, bowered
+about by a double row of close and interlaced cottonwoods on two sides,
+by vigorous orchards on the other two.
+
+The house had once been a one-storied adobe, heroically proportioned,
+thick-walled, cool against summer, warm in what went by the name
+of winter. The old-time princely hospitality was unchanged, but
+Sutherland had bought lots in Arcadia of early days; and now, the
+old gray walls of the house were smooth with creamy stucco, wrought
+of gypsum from the White Sands; the windows were widened and there
+was a superimposed story, overhanging, wide and low. The gables were
+double-windowed, shingled and stained nut-brown, the gently sloping
+roof shingled, dormered and soft green: the overflow projecting to
+broad verandas on either side, very like an umbrella: a bungalow with
+two birthdays--1866:1896.
+
+Miss Ellinor Hoffman had deserted veranda, rocking-chair and hammock.
+With a sewing basket beside her, she sat on a pine bench under a
+cottonwood of 1867, ostensibly basting together a kimono tinted like
+a dripping sea shell, and faced with peach-blossom. . The work went
+slowly. Her seat was at the desert corner of the homestead which was
+itself the desert outpost of a desert town: and her blood stirred to
+these splendid horizons. The mysterious desert scoffed and questioned,
+drew her with promise of strange joys and strange griefs. The iron-hard
+mountains beckoned and challenged from afar, wove her their spells of
+wavering lights and shadows; the misty warp and woof of them shifting
+to swift fantastic hues of trembling rose and blue and violet,
+half-veiling, half-revealing, steeps unguessed and dreamed-of sheltered
+valleys--and all the myriad-voice of moaning waste and world-rimming
+hill cried "Come!"
+
+Faint, fitful undertone of drowsy chords, far pealing of elfin bells;
+that was pulsing of busy _acequias_, tinkling of mimic waterfalls. The
+clean breath of the desert crooned by, bearing a grateful fragrance
+of apple-blossoms near; it rippled the deepest green of alfalfa to
+undulating sheen of purple and flashing gold.
+
+The broad fields were dwarfed to play-garden prettiness by the vastness
+of overwhelming desert, to right, to left, before; whose nearer
+blotches of black and gray and brown faded, far off, to a nameless
+shimmer, its silent leagues dwindling to immeasurable blur, merging
+indistinguishable in the burning sunset.
+
+"East by up," overguarding the oasis, the colossal bulk of Rainbow
+walled out the world with grim-tiered cliffs, cleft only by the
+deep-gashed gates of Rainbow Pass, where the swift river broke through
+to the rich fields of Rainbow's End, bringing fulfilment of the fabled
+pot of gold--or, unused, to shrink and fail and die in the thirsty sand.
+
+Below, the whilom channel wandered forlorn--Rainbow no longer, but Lost
+River--to a disconsolate delta, waterless save as infrequent floods
+found turbulent way to the Sink, when wild horse and antelope revisited
+their old haunts for the tender green luxury of these brief, belated
+springs.
+
+Incidentally, Miss Hoffman's outpost commanded a good view of Arcadia
+road, winding white through the black tar-brush. Had she looked,
+she might have seen a slow horseman, tiny on the bare plain below
+the tar-brush, larger as he climbed the gentle slope along that
+white-winding road.
+
+But she bent industrious to her work, smiling to herself, half-singing,
+half-humming a foolish and lilty little tune:
+
+    "A tisket, a tasket--a green and yellow basket;
+    I wrote a letter to my love and on the road I lost it--
+    I crissed it, I crossed it--I locked it in a casket;
+    I missed it, I lost it----"
+
+And here Miss Hoffman did an unaccountable thing. Wise Penelope
+unraveled by night the work she wove by day. Like her in this, Miss
+Ellinor Hoffman now placidly snipped and ripped the basting threads,
+unraveled them patiently, and set to work afresh.
+
+    "Now, there's no such thing as a Ginko tree;
+    There never was--though there ought to be.
+    And 'tis also true, though most absurd,
+    There's no such thing as a Wallabye bird!"
+
+Miss Hoffman was all in white, with a white middy blouse trimmed in
+scarlet, a scarlet ribbon in her dark hair: a fine-linked gold chain
+showed at her neck. A very pretty picture she made, cool and fresh
+against the deep shade and the green--but of course she did not know
+it. She held the shaping kimono at arm's length, admiring the delicate
+color, and fell to work again.
+
+    "Oh, the jolly miller, he lives by himself!
+    As the wheel rolls around he gathers in his pelf,
+    A hand in the hopper and another in the bag--
+    As the wheel rolls around he calls out, '_Grab!_'"
+
+So intent and preoccupied was she, that she did not hear the
+approaching horse.
+
+"Good evening!"
+
+"Oh!" Miss Hoffman jumped, dropping the long-suffering kimono. A
+horseman, with bared head, had reined up in the shaded road alongside.
+"How silly of me not to hear you coming! If you're looking for Mr.
+Sutherland, he's not here--Mr. David Sutherland, that is. But Mr. Henry
+Sutherland is here--or was awhile ago--maybe half an hour since. He was
+trying to get up a set of tennis. Perhaps they're playing--over there
+on the other side of the house. And yet, if they were there, we'd hear
+them laughing--don't you think?"
+
+Mr. Bransford--for it was Mr. Bransford, and he was all dressed in
+clothes--waited with extreme patience for the conclusion of these
+feverish and hurried remarks.
+
+"But I'm not looking for Sutherland. I'm looking for you!"
+
+"Oh!" said Ellinor again. Then, after a long and deliberate survey,
+the light of recognition dawned slowly in her eyes. "Oh, I _do_ know
+you, don't I? To be sure I do! You're Mr. ---- the gentleman I met on
+Rainbow Mountain, near Mayhill,--Mr.--ah yes--Bransford!"
+
+"Why, so I am!" said Jeff, leaning on the saddle-horn. One half of Mr.
+Bransford wondered if he had not been making a fool of himself and
+taking a great deal for granted: the other half, though considerably
+alarmed, was not at all deceived.
+
+Miss Ellinor did not actually put her finger in the corner of her
+mouth--she merely looked as if she had. "Ah!--Won't you ... get down?"
+she said helplessly. "What a beautiful horse!"
+
+"Why, yes--thank you--I believe I will."
+
+He left the beautiful horse to stand with dangling reins, and came over
+to the bench, silent and rather grim.
+
+"Won't you sit down?" said Ellinor politely. "Fine day, isn't it?"
+
+"It's a wonderful day--a marvelous day--a stupendous day!" said this
+exasperated young man. "No, I guess it's not worth while to sit down. I
+just wanted to find out where you lived. I asked you once before, you
+know, and you didn't tell me."
+
+"Didn't I? Oh, do sit down! You look so grumpy--tired, I mean." Rather
+grudgingly, she swept the sewing basket from the bench to the grass.
+
+Jeff's eyes followed the action. He saw--if you call it seeing--the
+snipped threads on the grass, the yet unpicked bastings, white against
+the peach-pink facing; but he was a mere man, hardly-circumstanced, and
+these eloquent tidings were wasted upon his clumsy intellect: as had
+been the surprising good fortune of finding Miss Ellinor exactly where
+she was.
+
+Nerving himself with memory of the Quaker Lady at the masquerade--if,
+indeed, that had ever really happened--Jeff took the offered seat.
+
+The young lady matched two edges together, smoothed them, eyed the
+result critically, and plied a nimble needle. Then she turned clear and
+guileless eyes on her glooming seatmate.
+
+"You look older, somehow, than I thought you were, now that I
+remember," she observed, biting the thread. "You've been away, haven't
+you?"
+
+"Thought you were going away, yourself, so wild and fierce?" said Jeff,
+evading.--_Been away, indeed!_
+
+Ellinor threaded her needle.
+
+"Mamma _was_ talking of going for a while," she said tranquilly. "But
+I'm rather glad we didn't. We're having a splendid time here--and Mr.
+White's going to take us to the White Sands next week. He'll be down
+to-morrow--at least I think so. He's fine! He took us to Mescalero
+early in the spring. And the young people here at Rainbow's End are
+simply delightful. You must meet some of them. Listen! There they
+are now--I hear them. They _are_ playing tennis. Come on up and I'll
+introduce you. I can finish this thing any time." She tossed the poor
+kimono into the basket.
+
+"No," said this unhappy young man, rising. "I believe I'll go on back.
+Good-by, Miss Ell--Miss Hoffman. I wish you much happiness!"
+
+"Why--surely you're not going now? There are some nice girls here--they
+have heard so much of you, but they say they've never met you. Don't
+you want----"
+
+Jeff groaned, fumbling blindly at the bridle. "No, I wish I'd never
+seen a girl!"
+
+"Why-y! That's not very polite, is it?----Are--are you--mad to me?"
+said Ellinor in a meek little voice.
+
+"Mad? No," said Jeff bitterly. "I'm just coming to my senses. I've been
+dreaming. Now I've woke up!"
+
+"Angry, I mean, of course. I just say it that way--'are you mad to
+me'--sometimes--to be--to be--nice, Mr. Bransford!"
+
+"You needn't bother! Good-by!"
+
+"But I'll see you again----"
+
+"_Never!_"
+
+"----when you're not so--cross?"
+
+Jeff reached for his stirrup.
+
+"Oh, well! If you're going to be huffy!. Never it is, then, by all
+means! No--wait! I must give you back your present."
+
+"I have never given you a present. Some other man, doubtless. You
+should keep a list!" said Jeff, with bitter and cutting scorn.
+
+The girl turned half away from him and hid her face with trembling
+hands; her shoulders shook with emotion.
+
+"Look the other way, sir! Turn your head! You shall have your present
+back and then if you're so anxious to go--Go!"
+
+"Miss Hoffman, I never gave you a present in my life," Jeff protested.
+
+"You did!" sobbed Ellinor. She turned upon him, stamping her foot. "You
+said, when you gave it to me, that you hoped it would bring me good
+luck. And you've forgotten! _You'd_ better keep a list! Turn your head
+away, I tell you!" She sank down on the bench.
+
+Confused, mazed, bewildered, Jeff obeyed her.
+
+She sprang to her feet. She was laughing, blushing, glowing. In her
+hand was the little gold chain.
+
+"Now, you may look. Hold out your hand, sir!"
+
+Jeff's mind was whirling; he held out his hand. She laid a little gold
+locket in his palm. It was warm, that little locket.
+
+"I have never seen this locket before in my life!" gasped Jeff.
+
+"Open it!"
+
+He opened it. The little eohippus glared up at him.
+
+"Ellinor!--_Charley Gibson!_"
+
+"Tobe! Jeff!--_Jamie!_"
+
+The little eohippus stared unwinking from the grass.
+
+
+THE BEGINNING
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
+
+GOOD MEN AND TRUE
+
+_Illustrated._
+
+
+The story of a brave and humorous American of to-day in deadly peril on
+our Texan frontier.
+
+    "Ingeniously constructed, so clever, so full of genuine
+    humor."--_New York Tribune._
+
+    "As genuine a comedy of bloodshed as the literature of American
+    manners can furnish."--_Living Age._
+
+    "Very near to being a model of what such a story should be. About
+    as good as it could be made."--_Springfield Republican._
+
+    "Abounds in real humor and has a touch that is unmistakably
+    Stevensonian."--_Philadelphia Press._
+
+
+                        HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+                       PUBLISHERS      NEW YORK
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78657 ***
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78657 ***</div>
+
+
+<div class="titlepage">
+
+<h1>BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA</h1>
+
+<p>OR</p>
+
+<h2><i>THE LITTLE EOHIPPUS</i></h2>
+
+<p class="ph1">By EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES</p>
+
+<p>Author of "Good Men and True"</p>
+
+<p>NEW YORK</p>
+
+<p>HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</p>
+
+<p>1914</p>
+
+<p>Copyright, 1913,<br>
+By<br>
+<span class="smcap">Curtis Publishing Co.</span></p>
+
+<p>Copyright, 1914,<br>
+By<br>
+<span class="smcap">Henry Holt and Company</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Published January, 1914</i></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table>
+<tr><td class="tdr"></td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#PROLOGUE"><span class="smcap">Prologue</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">The Pitcher That Went to the Well</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">First Aid</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">Maxwelton Braes</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">The Road to Rome</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">The Maskers</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">The Isle of Arcady</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">States-General</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">Arcades Ambo</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">Taken</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">The Alibi</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">The Nettle, Danger</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">The Siege of Double Mountain</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><span class="smcap">The Siege of Double Mountain</span> (<i>continued</i>)</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><span class="smcap">Flight</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><span class="smcap">Good-by</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><span class="smcap">The Land of Afternoon</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><span class="smcap">Twentieth Century</span></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><span class="smcap">At the Rainbow's End</span></a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="">
+  <div class="caption">
+    <p>The Horses Were Unwilling to Enter the Circle of Firelight.</p>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+
+<h2>BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA</h2>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="PROLOGUE">PROLOGUE</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p>The long fall round-up was over. The wagon, homeward bound, made camp
+for the last night out at the Sinks of Lost River. Most of the men,
+worn with threescore night-guards, were buried under their tarps in
+the deep sleep of the weary; sound as that of the just, and much more
+common.</p>
+
+<p>By the low campfire a few yet lingered: old-timers, iron men, whose
+wiry and seasoned strength was toil-proof—and Leo Ballinger, for whom
+youth, excitement and unsated novelty served in lieu of fitness.</p>
+
+<p>The "firelighters," working the wide range again from Ancho to Hueco,
+from the Mal Pais to Glencoe, fell silent now, to mark an unstaled
+miracle.</p>
+
+<p>The clustered lights of Rainbow's End shone redly, near and low.
+Beyond, above, dominant, the black, unbroken bulk of Rainbow Range
+shut out the east. The clear-cut crest mellowed to luminous curves,
+feathery with far-off pines; the long skyline thrilled with frosty
+fire, glowed, sparkled—the cricket's chirp was stilled; the slow, late
+moon rose to a hushed and waiting world.</p>
+
+<p>On the sharp crest she paused, irresolute, tip-toe, quivering, rosily
+aflush. Above floated a web of gossamer. She leaped up, spurning the
+black rim; glowed, palpitant, through that filmy lace—and all the
+desert throbbed with vibrant light.</p>
+
+<p>Cool and sweet and fresh, from maiden leagues of clean, brown earth the
+desert winds made whisper in grass and fragrant shrub; yucca, mesquite
+and greasewood swayed—so softly, you had not known save as the long
+shadows courtesied and danced.</p>
+
+<p>Leo flung up his hand. The air was wine to him. A year had left the
+desert still new and strange. "Gee!" he said eloquently.</p>
+
+<p>Headlight nodded. "You're dead right on that point, son. If Christopher
+K. Columbus had only thought to beach his shallops on the sundown side
+of this here continent he might have made a name for himself. Just
+think how much different, hysterically, these United States——"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>This</i> United States," corrected Pringle dispassionately. Their
+fathers had disagreed on the same grammatical point.</p>
+
+<p>Headlight scowled. "By Jings! 'That <i>this</i> United Colonies are, and of
+right ought to be, free and independent States,'" he quoted. "I was
+goin' to give you something new to exercise your talons on. You sit
+here every night, ridin' broncs and four-footin' steers, and never
+grab a horn or waste a loop, not once. Sure things ain't amusin'. Some
+variety and doubtful accuracy, now, would develop our guessin' gifts."</p>
+
+<p>Aforesaid Smith brandished the end-gate rod. "Them speculations of
+yours sorter opens up of themselves. If California had been settled
+first the salmon would now be our national bird instead of the
+potato. Think of Arizona, mother of Presidents! Seat of government at
+Milipitas; center of population about Butte; New Jersey howlin' about
+Nevada trusts!" He impaled a few beef ribs and held them over the
+glowing embers.</p>
+
+<p>"Georgia and South Carolina would be infested by cow-persons
+in décolleté leather panties," said Jeff Bransford. "New York
+and Pennsylvania would be fondly turning a credulous ear to the
+twenty-fourth consecutive solemn promise of Statehood—with the Senator
+from Walla Walla urging admission of both as one mighty State with
+Maryland and Virginia thrown in for luck."</p>
+
+<p>Headlight forgot his pique. "Wouldn't the railroads sound funny,
+though? Needles and Eastern, Northern Atlantic, Southern Atlantic,
+Union, Western, Kansas and Central Atlantic! Earnest and continuous
+demand for a President from east of the Mississippi. All the
+prize-fights pulled off at Boston."</p>
+
+<p>"Columbus done just right," said Pringle decisively. "You fellers ain't
+got no imagination a-tall. If this Western country'd been settled
+first, the maps would read: 'Northeast Territory.—Uninhabitable
+wilderness; region of storm and snow, roaming savages and fierce wild
+beasts.' When the intrepid explorer hit the big white weather he'd say,
+'Little old San Diego's good enough for me!' Yes, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, climate alone doesn't account for the charm of this
+country—nor scenery," said Leo. "You feel it, but you don't know why
+it is."</p>
+
+<p>"It sure agrees with your by-laws," observed Pringle. "You're a sight
+changed from the furtive behemoth you was. You'll make a hand yet. But,
+even now, your dimensions from east to west is plumb fascinatin'. I'd
+sure admire to have your picture to put in my cornfield."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Mr. Pringle: I'll exchange photographs with you," said Leo
+artlessly. A smothered laugh followed this remark; uncertainty as to
+what horrible and unnamed use Leo would make of Pringle's pictured face
+appealed to these speculative minds.</p>
+
+<p>"I've studied out this charm business," said Jeff. "See if I'm not
+right. It's because there's no habitually old men here to pattern
+after, to steady us, to make us ashamed of just staying boys. Now and
+then you hit an octagonal cuss like Wes here, that on a mere count of
+years and hairs might be sized up as old by the superficial observer.
+But if I have ever met that man more addicted with vivid nonchalance as
+to further continuance of educational facilities than this same Also
+Ran, his number has now escaped me. Really aged old people stay where
+they was."</p>
+
+<p>"I think, myself, that what makes life so easy and congenial in these
+latigos and longitudes is the dearth of law and the ladies." Thus
+Pringle, the cynic.</p>
+
+<p>A fourfold outcry ensued; indignant repudiation of the latter heresy.
+Their protest rose above the customary subdued and quiet drawl of the
+out-of-doors man.</p>
+
+<p>"But has the law no defenders?" demanded Leo. "We've got to have laws
+to make us behave."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure thing! Likewise, 'tis the waves that make the tide come in,"
+said Jeff. "A good law is as handy as a good pocketbook. But law, as
+simply such, independent of its merits, rouses no enthusiasm in my
+manly bosom, no more than a signboard the day after Hallowe'en. If it
+occurs to me in a moment of emotional sanity that the environments of
+the special case in hand call for a compound fracture of the statutes
+made and provided—for some totally different cases that happen to be
+called by the same name—I fall upon it with my glittering hew-gag,
+without no special wonder. For," he declaimed, "I am endowed by nature
+with certain inalienable rights, among which are the high justice, the
+middle, and the low!"</p>
+
+<p>"And who's to be the judge of whether it's a good law or not? You?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me. Me, every time. Some one must. If I let some other man make up
+my mind I've got to use my judgment—picking the man I follow. By
+organizing myself into a Permanent Committee of One to do my own
+thinking I take my one chance of mistakes instead of two."</p>
+
+<p>"So you believe in doing evil that good may come, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Jeff judicially, "it seems to be at least as good a
+proposition as doing good that evil may come of it. Why, Capricorn,
+there isn't one thing we call wrong, when other men do it, that hasn't
+been lawful, some time or other. When to break a law is to do a wrong,
+it's evil. When it's doing right to break a law, it's not evil. Got
+that? It's not wrong to keep a just law—and if it's wrong to break an
+unjust law I want a new dictionary with pictures of it in the back."</p>
+
+<p>"But laws is useful and excitin' diversions to break up the monogamy,"
+said Aforesaid. "And it's a dead easy way to build up a rep. Look
+at the edge I've got on you fellows. You're just supposed to be
+honest—but I've been proved honest, frequent!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" said Pringle.</p>
+
+<p>A weird sound reached them—the night wrangler, beguiling his lonely
+vigil with song.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Oh, the cuckoo is a pretty bird; she comes in the spring——"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"What do you s'pose that night-hawk thinks about the majesty of the
+law?" he said. There was a ringing note in his voice. Smith and
+Headlight nodded gravely; their lean, brown faces hardened.</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't heard of it? Old John Taylor, daddy to yonder warbler,
+drifted here from the East. Wife and little girl both puny. Taylor
+takes up a homestead on the Feliz. He wasn't affluent none. I let him
+have my old paint pony, Freckles—him being knee-sprung and not up
+to cow-work. To make out an unparalleled team, he got Ed Poe's Billy
+Bowlegs, née Gambler, him havin' won a new name by a misunderstanding
+with a prairie-dog hole. Taylor paid Poe for him in work. He was a
+willin' old rooster, Taylor, but futile and left-handed all over.</p>
+
+<p>"John, Junior, he was only thirteen. Him and the old man moseyed around
+like two drunk ants, fixin' up a little log house with rock chimbleys,
+a horse-pen and shelter, rail-fencin' of the little <i>vegas</i> to put to
+crops, and so on.</p>
+
+<p>"Done you good to drop in and hear 'em plan and figger. They was one
+happy family. How Sis Em'ly bragged about their hens layin'! In the
+spring we all held a bee and made their <i>'cequias</i> for 'em. Baker, he
+loaned 'em a plow. They dragged big branches over the ground for a
+harrow. They could milk anybody's cows they was a mind to tame, and the
+boys took to carryin' over motherless calves for Mis' Taylor to raise.
+Taylor, he done odd jobs, and they got along real well with their
+crops. They went into the second winter peart as squirrels.</p>
+
+<p>"But, come spring, Sis wasn't doin' well. They had the Agency doctor.
+Too high up and too damp, he said. So the missus and Em'ly they went to
+Cruces, where Em'ly could go to school.</p>
+
+<p>"That meant right smart of expense—rentin' a house and all. So the
+Johns they hires out. John, Junior, made his dayboo as wrangler for the
+Steam Pitchfork, acquirin' the obvious name of Felix.</p>
+
+<p>"The old man he got a job muckin' in Organ mines. Kept his hawses in
+Jeff Isaack's pasture, and Saturday nights he'd get one and slip down
+them eighteen miles to Cruces for Sunday with the folks.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, a homesteader can't be off his claim more'n six months
+at a time.</p>
+
+<p>"I reckon if there was ever a homestead taken up in good faith 'twas
+the Butterbowl. They knew the land laws from A to Izzard. Even named
+their hound pup Boney Fido!</p>
+
+<p>"But the old man waited at Organ till the last bell rang, so's to draw
+down his wages, payday. Then he bundles the folks into his little old
+wagon and lights out. Campin' at Casimiro's Well, half-way 'cross, that
+ornery Freckles hawse has a fit of malignant nostolgy and projects off
+for Butterbowl, afoot, in his hobbles. Next day, Taylor don't overtake
+him till the middle of the evenin', and what with going back and what
+with Freckles being hobble-sore, he's two days late in reachin' home.
+For Lake, of Agua Chiquite, that prosperous person, had been keeping
+cases. He entered contest on the Butterbowl, allegin' abandonment.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, if it was me—but, then, if 'twas me I could stay away six years
+and two months without no remonstrances from Lake or his likes. I'm
+somewhat abandoned myself.</p>
+
+<p>"But poor old Taylor, he's been drug up where they hold biped life
+unaccountable high. He sits him down resignedly beneath the sky,
+as the poet says, meek and legal. We all don't abnormally like to
+precipitate in another man's business, but we makes it up to sorter
+saunter in on Lake, spontaneous, and evince our disfavor with a rope.
+But Taylor says, 'No.' He allows the Land Office won't hold him morally
+responsible for the sinful idiocy of a homesick spotted hawse that's
+otherwise reliable.</p>
+
+<p>"He's got one more guess comin'. There ain't no sympathies to
+machinery. Your intentions may be strictly honorable, but if you get
+your hand caught in the cogs, off it goes, regardless of how handy it
+is for flankin' calves, holdin' nails, and such things. 'Absent over
+six months. Entry canceled. Contestant is allowed thirty days' prior
+right to file. Next.'</p>
+
+<p>"That's the way that decision'll read. It ain't come yet, but it's due
+soon.</p>
+
+<p>"This here Felix looks at it just like the old man, only
+different—though he ain't makin' no statements for publication. He
+come here young, and having acquired the fixed habit of riskin' his
+neck, regular, for one dollar per each and every diem, shooin' in the
+reluctant steer, or a fool hawse pirouettin' across the pinnacles
+with a nosebag on—or, mebbee, just for fun—why, natural, he don't
+see why life is so sweet or peace so dear as to put up with any damn
+foolishness, as Pat Henry used to say when the boys called on him
+for a few remarks. He's a some serious-minded boy, that night-hawk,
+and if signs is any indications, he's fixin' to take an appeal under
+the Winchester Act. I ain't no seventh son of a son-of-a-gun, but my
+prognostications are that he presently removes Lake to another and, we
+trust, a better world."</p>
+
+<p>"Good thing, too," grunted Headlight. "This Lake person is sure-lee a
+muddy pool."</p>
+
+<p>"Shet your fool head," said Pringle amiably. "You may be on the jury.
+I'm going to seek my virtuous couch. Glad we don't have to bed no
+cattle, <i>viva voce</i>, this night."</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't he the Latin scholar?" said Headlight admiringly. "They blow
+about that wire Julius Cæsar sent the Associated Press, but old man
+Pringle done him up for levity and precision when he wrote us the
+account of his visit to the Denver carnival. Ever hear about it,
+Sagittarius?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Leo. "What did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hic—hock—hike!"</p>
+
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>Escondido, half-way of the desert, is designed on simple
+lines. The railroad hauls water in tank-cars from Dog Cañon.
+There is one depot, one section-house, and one combination
+post-office-hotel-store-saloon-stage-station, kept by Ma Sanders and
+Pappy Sanders, in about the order mentioned. Also, one glorious green
+cottonwood, one pampered rosebush, jointly the pride and delight of
+Escondido, ownerless, but cherished by loving care and "toted" tribute
+of waste water.</p>
+
+<p>Hither came Jeff and Leo, white with the dust of twenty starlit
+leagues, for accumulated mail of Rainbow South. Horse-feeding,
+breakfast, gossip with jolly, motherly Ma Sanders, reading and
+answering of mail—then their beauty nap; so missing the day's event,
+the passing of the Flyer. When they woke Escondido basked drowsily
+in the low, westering sun. The far sunset ranges had put off their
+workaday homespun brown and gray for chameleon hues of purple and
+amethyst; their deep, cool shadows, edged with trembling rose, reached
+out across the desert; the velvet air stirred faintly to the promise of
+the night.</p>
+
+<p>The agent was putting up his switch-lights; from the kitchen came a
+cheerful clatter of tin-ware.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we buy some dry goods and wet," said Leo. They went into the store.</p>
+
+<p>"That decision's come!" shrilled Pappy in tremulous excitement. "It's
+too dum bad! Registered letters from Land Office for Taylor and Lake,
+besides another for Lake, not registered."</p>
+
+<p>"That one from the Land Office, too?" said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I jest tell ye? Say, it's a shame! Why don't some of you
+fellers——Gosh! If I was only young!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a travesty on justice!" exclaimed Leo indignantly. "There's
+really no doubt but that they decided for Lake, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit. He's got the law with him. Then him and the Register is old
+cronies. Guess this other letter is from him unofficial, likely."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff seated himself on a box. "How long has this Lake got to do his
+filing in, Pappy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty days from the time he signs the receipt for this letter—dum
+him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Some one ought to kidnap him," said Leo.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that's illegal!" Jeff nursed his knee, turned his head to one
+side and chanted thoughtfully:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Said the little Eohippus,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">'I'm going to be a horse,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And on my middle finger-nails</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To run my earthly course'——"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He broke off and smiled at Leo indulgently. Leo glanced at him sharply;
+this was Jeff's warsong aforetime. But it was to Pappy that Jeff spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Dad, you're a better'n any surgeon. Wish you'd go out and look at
+Leo's horse. His ankle's all swelled up. I'll be mixin' me up a toddy,
+if Ma's got any hot water. I'm feeling kinder squeamish."</p>
+
+<p>"Hot toddy, this weather? Some folks has queer tastes," grumbled Pappy.
+"Ex-<i>cuse</i> me! Me and Leo'll go look at the Charley-horse. That bottle
+under the shelf is the best." He bustled out. But Jeff caught Ballinger
+by the sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you hold my garments while I stone Stephen?" he hissed.</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said Leo, meeting Jeff's eye. "Hit him once for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Move the lever to the right, you old retrograde, and get Pappy to
+gyratin' on his axis some fifteen or twenty minutes, you listenin'
+reverently. Meanwhile, I'll make the necessary incantations. Git! Don't
+look so blamed intelligent, or Pappy'll be suspicious."</p>
+
+<p>Bransford hastened to the kitchen. "Ma Sanders, a bronc fell on me
+yesterday and my poor body is one big stone bruise. Can I borrow some
+boiling water to mix a small prescription, or maybe seven? One when you
+first feel like it, and repeat at intervals, the doctor says."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you get full in <i>my</i> house, Jeff Bransford, or I'll feed you to
+the hawgs. You take three doses, and that'll be a-plenty for you."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff put the steaming kettle on the rusty store stove, used as a
+waste-paper basket through the long summer. Touching off the papers
+with a match, he smashed an empty box and put it in. Then he went into
+the post-office corner and laid impious hands on the United States Mail.</p>
+
+<p>First he steamed open Lake's unregistered letter from the Land Office.
+It was merely a few typewritten lines, having no reference to the
+Butterbowl: "Enclosing the Plat of TP. 14 E. of First Guide Meridan
+East Range S. of 3d Standard Parallel South, as per request."</p>
+
+<p>He paused to consider. His roving eye lit on the wall, where the
+Annual Report of the Governor of New Mexico hung from a nail. "The
+very thing," he said. Pasted in the report was a folded map of the
+Territory. This he cut out, refolded it till it slipped in the violated
+envelope, dabbed the flap neatly with Pappy's mucilage, and returned
+the letter to its proper pigeonhole.</p>
+
+<p>He replenished the fire with another box, subjected Lake's registered
+letter to the steaming process and opened it with delicate caution. It
+was the decision; it was in Lake's favor; and it went into the fire.
+Substituting for it the Plat of TP. 14 and the accompanying letter he
+resealed it with workmanlike neatness, and then restored it with a
+final inspection. "The editor sits on the madhouse floor, and pla-ays
+with the straws in his hair!" he murmured, beaming with complacent
+pride and reaching for the bottle.</p>
+
+<p>Pappy and Leo found him with his hands to the blaze, shivering. "I
+feel like I was going to have a chill," he complained. But with a few
+remedial measures he recuperated sufficiently to set off for Rainbow
+after supper.</p>
+
+<p>"Charley's ankle seems better," said Leo artlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you lay no stress on Charley's ankle," said Jeff, in a burst of
+confidence. "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be otherwise.
+Just let Charley's ankle slip your memory."</p>
+
+<p>The following day Bransford drew rein at Wes Pringle's shack and
+summoned him forth.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. John Wesley Also-Ran Pringle," he said impressively, "I have
+taken a horse-ride over here to put you through your cataclysm. Will
+you truthfully answer the rebuses I shall now propound to the best of
+your ability, and govern yourself accordingly till the surface of Hades
+congeals to glistening bergs, and that with no unseemly curiosity?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it serious?" asked Pringle anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"This is straight talk."</p>
+
+<p>Pringle took a long look and held up his hand. "I will," he said
+soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"John Wesley, do you or do you not believe Stephen W. Lake, of Agua
+Chiquite, to be a low-down, coniferous skunk by birth, inclination and
+training?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do."</p>
+
+<p>"John Wesley, do you or do you not possess the full confidence and
+affection of Felix, the night-hawk, otherwise known and designated as
+John Taylor, Junior, of Butterbowl, Esquire?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you, John Wesley Pringle, esteem me, Jeff Bransford, irrespective
+of color, sex or previous condition of turpitude, to be such a one as
+may be safely tied to when all the hitching-posts is done pulled up,
+and will you now promise to love, honor and obey me till the cows come
+home, or till further orders?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do—I will. And may God have mercy on my soul."</p>
+
+<p>"Here are your powders, then. Do you go and locate the above-mentioned
+and described Felix, and impart to him, under the strict seal of
+secrecy, these tidings, to wit, namely: That you have a presentiment,
+almost amounting to conviction, that the Butterbowl contest is decided
+in Lake's favor, but that your further presentiments is that said Lake
+will not use his prior right. If Taylor should get such a decision from
+the Land Office don't let him or Felix say a word to no one. If Mr.
+B. Body should ask, tell 'em 'twas a map, or land laws, or something.
+Moreover, said Felix he is not to stab, cut, pierce or otherwise
+mutilate said Lake, nor to wickedly, maliciously, feloniously and
+unlawfully fire at or upon the person of said Lake with any rifle,
+pistol, musket or gun, the same being then and there loaded with powder
+and with balls, shots, bullets or slugs of lead or other metal. You
+see to that, personal. I'd go to him myself, but he don't know me well
+enough to have confidence in my divinations.</p>
+
+<p>"You promulgate these prophecies as your sole personal device and
+construction—<i>sabe</i>? Then, thirty days after Lake signs a receipt for
+his decision—and you will take steps to inform yourself of that—you
+sidle casually down to Roswell with old man Taylor and see that he puts
+preëmption papers on the Butterbowl. Selah!"</p>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>The first knowledge Lake had of the state of affairs was when the
+Steam Pitchfork punchers informally extended to him the right hand
+of fellowship (hitherto withheld) under the impression that he had
+generously abstained from pushing home his vantage. When, in the
+mid-flood of his unaccountable popularity, the situation dawned upon
+him, he wisely held his peace. He was a victim of the accomplished
+fact. Taylor had already filed his preëmption. So Lake reaped volunteer
+harvest of good-will, bearing his honors in graceful silence.</p>
+
+<p>On Lake's next trip to Escondido, Pappy Sanders laid aside his marked
+official hauteur. Lake stayed several days, praised the rosebush and Ma
+Sanders' cookery, and indulged in much leisurely converse with Pappy.
+Thereafter he had a private conference with Stratton, the Register of
+the Roswell Land Office. His suspicion fell quite naturally on Felix,
+and on Jeff as accessory during the fact.</p>
+
+<p>So it was that, when Jeff and Leo took in Roswell fair (where Jeff won
+a near-prize at the roping match), Hobart, the United States Marshal,
+came to their room. After introducing himself he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Stratton would like to see you, Mr. Bransford."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that's all right!" said Jeff genially. "Some of my very great
+grandfolks was Dacotahs and I've got my name in 'Who's Sioux'—but I'm
+not proud! Trot him around. Exactly who is Stratton, anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's the Register of the Land Office—and he wants to see you there
+on very particular business. I'd go if I was you," said the Marshal
+significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that way!" said Jeff. "Is this an arrest, or do you just give me
+this <i>in</i>-vite semi-officiously?"</p>
+
+<p>"You accuse yourself, sir. Were you expecting arrest? That sounds like
+a bad conscience."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry about my conscience. 'If I've ever done anything I'm
+sorry for I'm glad of it.' Now this Stratton party—is he some aged and
+venerable? 'Cause, if he is, I waive ceremony and seek him in his lair
+at the witching hour of two this <i>tarde</i>. And if not, not."</p>
+
+<p>"He's old enough—even if there were no other reasons."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind any other reasons. It shall never be said that I fail to
+reverence gray hairs. I'll be there."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I'll just wait and see that you go," said the Marshal.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got any papers for me?" asked Jeff politely.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"This is my room," said Jeff. "This is my fist. This is me. That is my
+door. Open it, Leo. Mr. Hobart, you will now make rapid forward motions
+with your feet, alternately, like a man removing his company from where
+it is not desired—or I'll go through you like a domesticated cyclone.
+See you at two, sharp!" Hobart obeyed. He was a good judge of men.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff closed the door. "'We went upon the battlefield,'" he said
+plaintively, "'before us and behind us, and every which-a-way we
+looked, we seen a roscerhinus.' We went into another field—behind us
+and before us, and every which-a-way we looked, we seen a rhinusorus.
+Mr. Lake has been evidently browsin' and pe-rusing around, and poor
+old Pappy, not being posted, has likely been narratin' about Charley's
+ankle and how I had a chill. Wough-ough!"</p>
+
+<p>"It looks that way," confessed Leo. "<i>Did</i> you have a chill, Jeff?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff's eyes crinkled. "Not so nigh as I am now. But shucks! I've been
+in worse emergencies, and I always emerged. Thanks be, I can always do
+my best when I have to. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we don't
+keep in practice! If I'd just come out straightforward and declared
+myself to Pappy, he'd 'a' tightened up his drawstrings and forgot all
+about my chill. But, no, well as I know from long experience that good
+old human nature's only too willin' to do the right thing and the fair
+thing—if somebody'll only tip it off to 'em—I must play a lone hand
+and not even call for my partner's best. Well, I'm goin' to ramify
+around and scrutinize this here Stratton's numbers, equipments and
+disposition. Meet me in the office at the fatal hour!"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The Marshal wore a mocking smile. Stratton, large, florid, well-fed
+and eminently respectable, turned in his revolving chair with a severe
+and majestic motion; adjusted his glasses in a prolonged and offensive
+examination, and frowned portentously.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine large day, isn't it?" observed Jeff affably. "Beautiful little
+city you have here." He sank into a chair. Smile and attitude were of
+pleased and sprightly anticipation.</p>
+
+<p>A faint flush showed beneath Stratton's neatly-trimmed mutton-chops.
+Such jaunty bearing was exasperating to offended virtue. "Ah—who is
+this other person, Mr. Hobart?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon my rudeness!" Jeff sprang up and bowed brisk apology. "Mr.
+Stratton, allow me to present Mr. Ballinger, a worthy representative
+of the Yellow Press. Mr. Stratton—Mr. Ballinger!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have a communication to make to you," said the displeased Mr.
+Stratton, in icy tones, "which, in your own interest, should be
+extremely private." The Marshal whispered to him; Stratton gave Leo a
+fiercely intimidating glare.</p>
+
+<p>"Communicate away," said Jeff airily. "Excommunicate, if you want to.
+Mr. Ballinger, as a citizen, is part owner of this office. If you want
+to bar him you'll have to change the venue to your private residence.
+And then I won't come."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, sir!" Mr. Stratton rose, inflated his chest and threw
+back his head. His voice took on a steady roll. "Mr. Bransford, you
+stand under grave displeasure of the law! You are grievously suspected
+of being cognizant of, if not actually accessory to, the robbery of
+the United States Mail by John Taylor, Junior, at Escondido, on the
+eighteenth day of last October. You may not be aware of it, but you
+have an excellent chance of serving a term in the penitentiary!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff pressed his hands between his knees and leaned forward. "I'm
+sure I'd never be satisfied there," he said, with conviction. His
+white teeth flashed in an ingratiatory smile. "But why suspect
+young John?—why not old John?" He paused, looking at the Register
+attentively. "H'm!—you're from Indiana, I believe, Mr. Stratton?" he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"The elder Taylor, on the day in question, is fully accounted for,"
+said Hobart. "Young Taylor claims to have passed the night at Willow
+Springs, alone. But no one saw him from breakfast time the seventeenth
+till noon on the nineteenth."</p>
+
+<p>"He rarely ever has any one with him when he's alone. That may account
+for them not seeing him at Willow," suggested Jeff. He did not look at
+Hobart, but regarded Stratton with an air of deep meditation.</p>
+
+<p>The Register paced the floor slowly, ponderously, with an impressive
+pause at each turn, tapping his left hand with his eyeglass to
+score his points. "He had ample time to go to Escondido and return.
+The envelope in which Mr. Lake's copy of this office's decision in
+the Lake-Taylor contest was enclosed has been examined. It bears
+unmistakable signs of having been tampered with." Turning to mark the
+effect of these tactics, he became aware of his victim's contemplative
+gaze. It disconcerted him. He resumed his pacing. Jeff followed him
+with a steady eye.</p>
+
+<p>"In the same mail I sent Mr. Lake another letter. The envelope was
+unfortunately destroyed, Mr. Lake suspecting nothing. A map had been
+substituted for its contents, and they, in turn, were substituted for
+the decision in the registered letter, with the evident intention of
+depriving Mr. Lake of his prior right to file."</p>
+
+<p>"By George! It sounds probable." Jeff laughed derisively. "So that's
+it! And here we all thought Lake let it go out of giddy generosity! My
+stars, but won't he get the horse-smile when the boys find out?"</p>
+
+<p>Stratton controlled himself with an effort. "We have decided not to
+push the case against you if you will tell what you know," he began.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff lifted his brows. "<i>We?</i> And who's <i>we</i>? You two? I should have
+thought this was a post-office lay."</p>
+
+<p>"We are investigating the affair," explained Hobart.</p>
+
+<p>"I see! As private individuals. Yes, yes. Does Lake pay you by the day
+or by the job?"</p>
+
+<p>Stratton, blazing with anger, smote his palm heavily with his fist.
+"Young man! Young man! Your insolence is unbearable! We are trying to
+spare you—as you had no direct interest in the matter and doubtless
+concealed your guilty knowledge through a mistaken and distorted sense
+of honor. But you tempt us—you tempt us! You don't seem to realize the
+precarious situation in which you stand."</p>
+
+<p>"What I don't see," said Jeff, in puzzled tones, "is why you bother
+to spare me at all. If you can prove this, why don't you cinch me and
+Felix both? Why do you want me to tell you what you already know? And
+if you can't prove it—who the hell cares what you suspect?"</p>
+
+<p>"We will arrest you," said Stratton thickly, "just as soon as we can
+make out the papers!"</p>
+
+<p>"Turn your wolf loose, you four-flushers! You may make me trouble,
+but you can't prove anything. Speaking of trouble—how about you, Mr.
+Stratton?" As a spring leaps, released from highest tension, face and
+body and voice flashed from passive indolence to sudden, startling
+attack. His arm lashed swiftly out as if to deliver the swordsman's
+stabbing thrust; the poised body followed up to push the stroke home.
+"You think your secret safe, don't you? It's been some time ago."</p>
+
+<p>Words only—yet it might have been a very sword's point past Stratton's
+guard. For the Register flinched, staggered, his arrogant face grew
+mottled, his arm went up. He fell back a step, silent, quivering,
+leaning heavily on a chair. The Marshal gave him a questioning glance.
+Jeff kept on.</p>
+
+<p>"You're prominent in politics, business, society, the church. You've a
+family to think of. It's up to you, Mr. Stratton. Is it worth while?
+Had we better drop it with a dull, sickening thud?"</p>
+
+<p>Stratton collapsed into the chair, a shapeless bundle, turning a
+shriveled, feeble face to the Marshal in voiceless imploring.</p>
+
+<p>Unhesitating, Hobart put a hand on his shoulder. "That's all right,
+old man! We won't give you away. Brace up!" He nodded Jeff to the door.
+"You win!" he said. Leo followed on tip-toe.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the poor old duck!" said Jeff remorsefully, in the passage. "Wish
+I hadn't come down on him so hard. I overdid it that time. Still, if I
+hadn't——"</p>
+
+<p>At the Hondo Bridge Jeff looked back and waved a hand. "Good-by, old
+town! Now we go, gallopy-trot, gallopy, gallopy-trot!" He sang, and the
+ringing hoofs kept time and tune,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Florence Mehitabel Genevieve Jane,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">She came home in the wind an' the rain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">She came home in the rain an' the snow;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">'Ain't a-goin' to leave my home any mo'!'"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Jeff," said the mystified Ballinger, spurring up beside him, "what has
+the gray-haired Register done? Has murder stained his hands with gore?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff raised his bridle hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee! Leo, I don't know! I just taken a chance!"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"When I bend my head low and listen at the ground,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I can hear vague voices that I used to know,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Stirring in dim places, faint and restless sound;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I remember how it was when the grass began to grow."</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>Song of The Wandering Dust</i>,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent10"><span class="smcap">Anna Hempstead Branch</span>.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The pines thinned as she neared Rainbow Rim, the turfy glades grew
+wider; she had glimpses of open country beyond—until, at last,
+crossing a little spit of high ground, she came to the fairest spot in
+all her voyage of exploration and discovery. She sank down on a fallen
+log with a little sigh of delight.</p>
+
+<p>The steep bank of a little cañon broke away at her feet—a cañon which
+here marked the frontier of the pines, its farther side overgrown with
+mahogany bush and chaparral—a cañon that fell in long, sinuous curves
+from the silent mystery of forest on Rainbow Crest behind her, to widen
+just below into a rolling land, parked with green-black powderpuffs
+of juniper and cedar; and so passed on to mystery again, twisting
+away through the folds of the low and bare gray hills to the westward,
+ere the last stupendous plunge over the Rim to the low desert, a mile
+toward the level of the waiting sea.</p>
+
+<p>Facing the explorer, across the little cañon, a clear spring bubbled
+from the hillside and fell with pleasant murmur and tinkle to a pool
+below, fringed with lush emerald—a spring massed about with wild
+grapevine, shining reeds of arrow-weed; a tangle of grateful greenery,
+jostling eagerly for the life-giving water. Draped in clinging vines,
+slim acacias struggled up through the jungle; the exquisite fragrance
+of their purple bells gave a final charm to the fairy chasm.</p>
+
+<p>But the larger vision! The nearer elfin beauty dwindled, was lost,
+forgotten. Afar, through a narrow cleft in the gray westward hills,
+the explorer's eye leaped out over a bottomless gulf to a glimpse
+of shining leagues midway of the desert greatness—an ever-widening
+triangle that rose against the peaceful west to long foothill reaches,
+to a misty mountain parapet, far-beckoning, whispering of secrets,
+things dreamed of, unseen, beyond the framed and slender arc of vision.
+A land of enchantment and mystery, decked with strong barbaric colors,
+blue and red and yellow, brown and green and gray; whose changing ebb
+and flow, by some potent sorcery of atmosphere, distance and angle,
+altered, daily, hourly; deepening, fading, combining into new and
+fantastic lines and shapes, to melt again as swiftly to others yet more
+bewildering.</p>
+
+<p>The explorer? It may be mentioned in passing that any other would
+have found that fairest prospect even more wonderful than did the
+explorer, Miss Ellinor Hoffman. We will attempt no clear description
+of Miss Ellinor Hoffman. Dusky-beautiful she was; crisp, fresh and
+sparkling; tall, vigorous, active, strong. Yet she was more than
+merely beautiful—warm and frank and young; brave and kind and true.
+Perhaps, even more than soft curves, lips, glory of hair or bewildering
+eyes, or all together, her chiefest charm was her manner, her frank
+friendliness. Earth was sweet to her, sweeter for her.</p>
+
+<p>This by way of aside and all to no manner of good. You have no picture
+of her in your mind. Remember only that she was young—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"The stars to drink from and the sky to dance on"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>—young and happy, and therefore beautiful; that the sun was shining in
+a cloudless sky, the south wind sweet and fresh, buds in the willow.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The peace was rent and shivered by strange sounds, as of a giant
+falling downstairs. There was a crash of breaking boughs beyond the
+cañon, a glint of color, a swift black body hurtling madly through
+the shrubbery. The girl shrank back. There was no time for thought,
+hardly for alarm. On the farther verge the bushes parted; an apparition
+hurled arching through the sunshine, down the sheer hill—a glorious
+and acrobatic horse, his black head low between his flashing feet;
+red nostrils wide with rage and fear; foam flecks white on the black
+shoulders; a tossing mane; a rider, straight and tall, superb—to all
+seeming an integral part of the horse, pitch he never so wildly.</p>
+
+<p>The girl held her breath through the splintered seconds. She thrilled
+at the shock and storm of them, straining muscles and white hoofs,
+lurching, stumbling, sliding, lunging, careening in perilous arcs. She
+saw stones that rolled with them or bounded after; a sombrero whirled
+above the dust and tumult like a dilatory parachute; a six-shooter
+jolted up into the air. Through the dust-clouds there were glimpses of
+a watchful face, hair blown back above it; a broken rein snapped beside
+it, saddle-strings streamed out behind; a supple body that swung from
+curve to easy curve against shock and plunge, that swayed and poised
+and clung, and held its desperate dominion still. The saddle slipped
+forward; with a motion incredibly swift, as a hat is whipped off in
+a gust of wind, it whisked over withers and neck and was under the
+furious feet. Swifter, the rider! Cat-quick, he swerved, lit on his
+feet, leaped aside.</p>
+
+<p>Alas, oh, rider beyond compare, undefeated champion, Pride of Rainbow!
+Alas, that such thing should be recorded! He leaped aside to shun the
+black frantic death at his shoulder; his feet were in the treacherous
+vines: he toppled, grasped vainly at an acacia, catapulted out and
+down, head first; so lit, crumpled and fell with a prodigious splash
+into the waters of the pool! <i>Ay di mi, Alhama!</i></p>
+
+<p>The blankets lay strewn along the hill; but observe that the long lead
+rope of the hackamore (a "hackamore," properly <i>jaquima</i>, is, for
+your better understanding, merely a rope halter) was coiled at the
+saddle-horn, held there by a stout hornstring. As the black reached
+the level the saddle was at his heels. To kick was obvious, to go away
+not less so; but this new terror clung to the maddened creature in
+his frenzied flight—between his legs, in the air, at his heels, his
+hip, his neck. A low tree leaned from the hillside; the aërial saddle
+caught in the forks of it, the bronco's head was jerked round, he was
+pulled to his haunches, overthrown; but the tough hornstring broke, the
+freed coil snapped out at him; he scrambled up and bunched his glorious
+muscles in a vain and furious effort to outrun the rope that dragged at
+his heels, and so passed from sight beyond the next curve.</p>
+
+<p>Waist-deep in the pool sat the hatless horseman, or perhaps horseless
+horseman were the juster term, steeped in a profound calm. That last
+phrase has a familiar sound; Mark Twain's, doubtless—but, all things
+considered, steeped is decidedly the word. One gloved hand was in the
+water, the other in the muddy margin of the pool: he watched the final
+evolution of his late mount with meditative interest. The saddle was
+freed at last, but its ex-occupant still sat there, lost in thought.
+Blood trickled, unnoted, down his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>The last stone followed him into the pool; the echoes died on the
+hills. The spring resumed its pleasant murmur, but the tinkle of
+its fall was broken by the mimic waves of the pool. Save for this
+troubled sloshing against the banks, the slow-settling dust and the
+contemplative bust of the one-time centaur, no trace was left to mark
+the late disastrous invasion.</p>
+
+<p>The invader's dreamy and speculative gaze followed the dust of the
+trailing rope. He opened his lips twice or thrice, and spoke, after
+several futile attempts, in a voice mild, but clearly earnest:</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you little eohippus!"</p>
+
+<p>The spellbound girl rose. Her hand was at her throat; her eyes were big
+and round, and her astonished lips were drawn to a round, red O.</p>
+
+<p>Sharp ears heard the rustle of her skirts, her soft gasp of amazement.
+The merman turned his head briskly, his eye met hers. One gloved hand
+brushed his brow; a broad streak of mud appeared there, over which the
+blood meandered uncertainly. He looked up at the maid in silence: in
+silence the maid looked down at him. He nodded, with a pleasant smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-morning!" he said casually.</p>
+
+<p>At this cheerful greeting, the astounded maid was near to tumbling
+after, like Jill of the song.</p>
+
+<p>"Er—good-morning!" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Silence. The merman reclined gently against the bank with a comfortable
+air of satisfaction. The color came flooding back to her startled face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, are you hurt?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>A puzzled frown struggled through the mud.</p>
+
+<p>"Hurt?" he echoed. "Who, me?... Why, no—leastwise, I guess not."</p>
+
+<p>He wiggled his fingers, raised his arms, wagged his head doubtfully and
+slowly, first sidewise and then up and down; shook himself guardedly,
+and finally raised tentative boot-tips to the surface. After this
+painstaking inspection he settled contentedly back again.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I'm all right," he reported. "Only I lost a big, black, fine,
+young, nice horse somehow. You ain't seen nothing of him, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then why don't you get out?" she demanded. "I believe you are hurt."</p>
+
+<p>"Get out? Why, yes, ma'am. Certainly. Why not?" But the girl was
+already beginning to clamber down, grasping the shrubbery to aid in the
+descent.</p>
+
+<p>Now the bank was steep and sheer. So the merman rose, tactfully
+clutching the grapevines behind him as a plausible excuse for turning
+his back. It followed as a corollary of this generous act that he must
+needs be lame, which he accordingly became. As this mishap became
+acute, his quick eyes roved down the cañon, where he saw what gave him
+pause; and he groaned sincerely under his breath. For the black horse
+had taken to the parked uplands, the dragging rope had tangled in a
+snaggy tree-root, and he was tracing weary circles in bootless effort
+to be free.</p>
+
+<p>Tactful still, the dripping merman hobbled to the nearest shade
+wherefrom the luckless black horse should be invisible, eclipsed by the
+intervening ridge, and there sank down in a state of exhaustion, his
+back to a friendly tree-trunk.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>FIRST AID</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Oh woman! in our hours of ease</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Uncertain, coy and hard to please;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">But seen too oft, familiar with thy face</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">We first endure, then pity, then embrace!"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>A moment later the girl was beside him, pity in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see that cut on your head," she said. She dropped on her knee
+and parted the hair with a gentle touch.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you're real!" breathed the injured near-centaur, beaming with
+wonder and gratification.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down limply and gave way to wild laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"So are you!" she retorted. "Why, that is exactly what I was thinking!
+I thought maybe I was asleep and having an extraordinary dream. That
+wound on your head is not serious, if that's all." She brushed back a
+wisp of hair that blew across her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I hurt this head just the other day," observed the bedraggled victim,
+as one who has an assortment of heads from which to choose. He pulled
+off his soaked gloves and regarded them ruefully. "'Them that go down
+to deep waters!' That was a regular triumph of matter over mind, wasn't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a wonder you're alive! My! How frightened I was! Aren't you
+hurt—truly? Ribs or anything?"</p>
+
+<p>The patient's elbows made a convulsive movement to guard the threatened
+ribs.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, ma'am. I ain't hurt a bit—indeed I ain't," he said
+truthfully; but his eyes had the languid droop of one who says the
+thing that is not. "Don't you worry none about me—not one bit. Sorry I
+frightened you. That black horse now——" He stopped to consider fully
+the case of the black horse. "Well, you see, ma'am, that black horse,
+he ain't exactly right plumb gentle." His eyelids drooped again.</p>
+
+<p>The girl considered. She believed him—both that he was not badly hurt
+and that the black horse was not exactly gentle. And her suspicions
+were aroused. His slow drawl was getting slower; his cowboyese
+broader—a mode of speech quite inconsistent with that first sprightly
+remark about the little eohippus. What manner of cowboy was this, from
+whose tongue a learned scientific term tripped spontaneously in so
+stressful a moment—who quoted scraps of the litany unaware? Also, her
+own eyes were none of the slowest. She had noted that the limping did
+not begin until he was clear of the pool. Still, that might happen if
+one were excited; but this one had been singularly calm, "more than
+usual ca'm," she mentally quoted.... Of course, if he really were badly
+hurt—which she didn't believe one bit—a little bruised and jarred,
+maybe—the only thing for her to do would be to go back to camp and get
+help.... That meant the renewal of Lake's hateful attentions and—for
+the other girls, the sharing of her find.... She stole another look
+at her find and thrilled with all the pride of the discoverer.... No
+doubt he was shaken and bruised, after all. He must be suffering. What
+a splendid rider he was!</p>
+
+<p>"What made you so absurd? Why didn't you get out of the water, then, if
+you are not hurt?" she snapped suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>The drooped lids raised; brown eyes looked steadily into brown eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't want to wake up," he said.</p>
+
+<p>The candor of this explanation threw her, for the moment, into a vivid
+and becoming confusion. The dusky roses leaped to her cheeks; the long,
+dark lashes quivered and fell. Then she rose to the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>"And how about the little eohippus?" she demanded. "That doesn't seem
+to go well with some of your other talk."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" He regarded her with pained but unflinching innocence. "The
+Latin, you mean? Why, ma'am, that's most all the Latin I know—that
+and some more big words in that song. I learned that song off of Frank
+John, just like a poll-parrot."</p>
+
+<p>"Sing it! And eohippus isn't Latin. It's Greek."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, ma'am, I can't, just now—I'm so muddy; but I'll tell it to
+you. Maybe I'll sing it to you some other time." A sidelong glance
+accompanied this little suggestion. The girl's face was blank and
+non-committal; so he resumed: "It goes like this:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Said the little Eohippus,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">'I'm going to be a horse,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And on my middle finger-nails</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To run my earthly course'——</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>No; that wasn't the first. It begins:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"There was once a little animal</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No bigger than a fox,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And on five toes he scampered——</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Of course you know, ma'am—Frank John he told me about it—that horses
+were little like that, 'way back. And this one he set his silly head
+that he was going to be a really-truly horse, like the song says. And
+folks told him he couldn't—couldn't possibly be done, nohow. And sure
+enough he did. It's a foolish song, really. I only sing parts of it
+when I feel like that—like it couldn't be done and I was going to do
+it, you know. The boys call it my song. Look here, ma'am!" He fished in
+his vest pocket and produced tobacco and papers, matches—last of all,
+a tiny turquoise horse, an inch long. "I had a jeweler-man put five
+toes on his feet once to make him be a little eohippus. Going to make
+a watch-charm of him sometime. He's a lucky little eohippus, I think.
+Peso gave him to me when—never mind when. Peso's a Mescalero Indian,
+you know, chief of police at the agency." He gingerly dropped the
+little horse into her eager palm.</p>
+
+<p>It was a singularly grotesque and angular little beast, high-stepping,
+high-headed, with a level stare, at once complacent and haughty.
+Despite the first unprepossessing rigidity of outline, there was
+somehow a sprightly air, something endearing, in the stiff, purposed
+stride, the alert, inquiring ears, the stern and watchful eye. Each
+tiny hoof was faintly graven to semblance of five tinier toes; there,
+the work showed fresh.</p>
+
+<p>"The cunning little monster!" Prison grime was on him; she groomed
+and polished at his dingy sides until the wonderful color shone out
+triumphant. "What is it that makes him such a dear? Oh, I know. It's
+something—well, child-like, you know. Think of the grown-up child
+that toiled with pride and joy at the making of him—dear me, how
+many lifetimes since!—and fondly put him by as a complete horse."
+She held him up in the sun: the ingrate met her caress with the same
+obdurate and indomitable glare. She laughed her rapturous delight:
+"There! How much better you look! Oh, you darling! Aren't you absurd?
+Straight-backed, stiff-legged, thick-necked, square-headed—and that
+ridiculously baleful eye! It's too high up and too far forward, you
+know—and your ears are too big—and you have such a malignant look!
+Never mind; now that you're all nice and clean, I'm going to reward
+you." Her lips just brushed him—the lucky little eohippus.</p>
+
+<p>The owner of the lucky little horse was not able to repress one swift,
+dismal glance at his own vast dishevelment, nor, as his shrinking
+hands, entirely of their own volition, crept stealthily to hiding, the
+slightest upward rolling of a hopeful eye toward the leaping waters of
+the spring; but, if one might judge from her sedate and matter-of-fact
+tones, that eloquent glance was wasted on the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to take better care of him, you know," she said as she
+restored the little monster to his owner. Then she laughed. "Hasn't he
+a fierce and warlike appearance, though?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. That's resolution. Look at those legs!" said the owner fondly.
+"He spurns the ground. He's going somewheres. He's going to be a
+horse! And them ears—one cocked forward and the other back, strictly
+on the <i>cuidado</i>! He'll make it. He'll certainly do to take along! Yes,
+ma'am, I'll take right good care of him." He regarded the homely beast
+with awe; he swathed him in cigarette papers with tenderest care. "I'll
+leave him at home after this. He might get hurt. I might sometime want
+to give him to—somebody."</p>
+
+<p>The girl sprang up.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I must get some water and wash that head," she announced briskly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no—I can't let you do that. I can walk. I ain't hurt a bit, I
+keep telling you." In proof of which he walked to the pool with a
+palpably clever assumption of steadiness. The girl fluttered solicitous
+at his elbow. Then she ran ahead, climbed up to the spring and extended
+a firm, cool hand, which he took shamelessly, and so came to the fairy
+waterfall.</p>
+
+<p>Here he made himself presentable as to face and hands. It is just
+possible there was a certain expectancy in his eye as he neared the
+close of these labors; but if there were it passed unnoted. The girl
+bathed the injured head with her handkerchief, and brushed back his
+hair with a dainty caressing motion that thrilled him until the color
+rose beneath the tan. There was a glint of gray in the wavy black hair,
+she noted.</p>
+
+<p>She stepped back to regard her handiwork. "Now you look better!" she
+said approvingly. Then, slightly flurried, not without a memory of a
+previous and not dissimilar remark of hers, she was off up the hill:
+whence, despite his shocked protest, she brought back the lost gun and
+hat.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were sparkling when she returned, her face glowing. Ignoring
+his reproachful gaze, she wrung out her handkerchief, led the
+patient firmly down the hill and to his saddle, made him trim off a
+saddle-string, and bound the handkerchief to the wound. She fitted the
+sombrero gently.</p>
+
+<p>"There! Don't this head feel better now?" she queried gayly, with fine
+disregard for grammar. "And now what? Won't you come back to camp with
+me? Mr. Lake will be glad to put you up or to let you have a horse. Do
+you live far away? I do hope you are not one of those Rosebud men. Mr.
+La——" She bit her speech off midword.</p>
+
+<p>"No men there except this Mr. Lake?" asked the cowboy idly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes; there's Mr. Herbert—he's gone riding with Lettie—and Mr.
+White; but it was Mr. Lake who got up the camping party. Mother and
+Aunt Lot, and a crowd of us girls—La Luz girls, you know. Mother and I
+are visiting Mr. Lake's sister. He's going to give us a masquerade ball
+when we get back, next week."</p>
+
+<p>The cowboy looked down his nose for consultation, and his nose gave a
+meditative little tweak.</p>
+
+<p>"What Lake is it? There's some several Lakes round here. Is it Lake of
+Aqua Chiquite—wears his hair décolleté; talks like he had a washboard
+in his throat; tailor-made face; walks like a duck on stilts; general
+sort of pouter-pigeon effect?"</p>
+
+<p>At this envenomed description, Miss Ellinor Hoffman promptly choked.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know anything about your Aqua Chiquite. I never heard of the
+place before. He is a banker in Arcadia. He keeps a general store
+there. You must know him, surely." So far her voice was rather stern
+and purposely resentful, as became Mr. Lake's guest; but there were
+complications, rankling memories of Mr. Lake—of unwelcome attentions
+persistently forced upon her. She spoiled the rebuke by adding tartly,
+"But I think he is the man you mean!" and felt her wrongs avenged.</p>
+
+<p>The cowboy's face cleared.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't use Arcadia much, you see. I mostly range down Rainbow
+River. Arcadia folks—why, they're mostly newcomers, health-seekers and
+people just living on their incomes—not working folks much, except
+the railroaders and lumbermen. Now about getting home. You see, ma'am,
+some of the boys are riding down that way"—he jerked his thumb to
+indicate the last flight of the imperfectly gentle horse—"and they're
+right apt to see my runaway eohippus and sure to see the rope-drag; so
+they'll likely amble along the back track to see how much who's hurt.
+So I guess I'd better stay here. They may be along most any time. Thank
+you kindly, just the same. Of course, if they don't come at all——Is
+your camp far?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not—not very," said Ellinor. The mere fact was that Miss Ellinor
+had set out ostensibly for a sketching expedition with another girl,
+had turned aside to explore, and exploring had fetched a circuit that
+had left her much closer to her starting-place than to her goal. He
+misinterpreted the slight hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, ma'am, thank you again; but I mustn't be keeping you longer.
+I really ought to see you safe back to your camp; but—you'll
+understand—under the circumstances—you'll excuse me?"</p>
+
+<p>He did not want to implicate Mr. Lake, so he took a limping step
+forward to justify his rudeness.</p>
+
+<p>"And you hardly able to walk? Ridiculous! What I ought to do is to go
+back to camp and get some one—get Mr. White to help you." Thus, at
+once accepting his unspoken explanation, and offering her own apology
+in turn, she threw aside the air of guarded hostility that had marked
+the last minutes and threw herself anew into this joyous adventure.
+"When—or if—your friends find you, won't it hurt you to ride?" she
+asked, and smiled deliberate encouragement.</p>
+
+<p>"I can be as modest as anybody when there's anything to be modest
+about; but in this case I guess I'll now declare that I can ride
+anything that a saddle will stay on.... I reckon," he added
+reflectively, "the boys'll have right smart to say about me being
+throwed."</p>
+
+<p>"But you weren't thrown! You rode magnificently!" Her eyes flashed
+admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes'm. That's what I hoped you'd say," said the admired one
+complacently. "Go on, ma'am. Say it again."</p>
+
+<p>"It was splendid! The saddle turned—that's all!"</p>
+
+<p>He slowly surveyed the scene of his late exploit.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye—es, that was some riding—for a while," he admitted. "But you see,
+that saddle now, scarred up that way—why, they'll think the eohippus
+wasted me and then dragged the saddle off under a tree. Leastways,
+they'll say they think so, frequent. Best not to let on and to make no
+excuses. It'll be easier that way. We're great on guying here. That's
+most all the fun we have. We sure got this joshing game down fine. Just
+wondering what all the boys'd say—that was why I didn't get out of the
+water at first, before—before I thought I was asleep, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"So you'll actually tell a lie to keep from being thought a liar? I'm
+disappointed in you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, ma'am, I won't say anything. They'll do the talking."</p>
+
+<p>"It'll be deceitful, just the same," she began, and checked herself
+suddenly. A small twinge struck her at the thought of poor Maud, really
+sketching on Thumb Butte, and now disconsolately wondering what had
+become of lunch and fellow-artist; but she quelled this pang with a
+sage thought of the greatest good to the greatest number, and clapped
+her hands in delight. "Oh, what a silly I am, to be sure! I've got a
+lunch basket up there, but I forgot all about it in the excitement.
+I'm sure there's plenty for two. Shall I bring it down to you or can
+you climb up if I help you? There's water in the canteen—and it's
+beautiful up there."</p>
+
+<p>"I can make it, I guess," said the invited guest—the consummate and
+unblushing hypocrite. Make it he did, with her strong hand to aid; and
+the glen rang to the laughter of them. While behind them, all unnoted,
+Johnny Dines reined up on the hillside; took one sweeping glance at
+that joyous progress, the scarred hillside, the saddle and the dejected
+eohippus in the background; grinned comprehension, and discreetly
+withdrew.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>MAXWELTON BRAES</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Oh the song—the song in the blood!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Magic walks the forest; there's bewitchment on the air—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Spring is at the flood!"</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>The Gypsy Heart.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>"Well, sir, this here feller, he lit a cigarette an' throwed away the
+match, an' it fell in a powder kaig; an' do you know, more'n half that
+powder burned up before they could put it out! Yes, sir!"—<span class="smcap">Wildcat
+Thompson.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Ellinor opened her basket and spread its tempting wares with pretty
+hostly care—or is there such a word as hostessly?</p>
+
+<p>"There! All ready, Mr.——I declare, this is too absurd! We don't even
+know each other's names!" Her conscious eye fell upon the ampleness
+of the feast—amazing, since it purported to have been put up for one
+alone; and her face lit up with mischievous delight. She curtsied. "If
+you please, I'm the Ultimate Consumer!"</p>
+
+<p>He rose, bowing gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I am the Personal Devil. Glad to meet you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I've heard of you!" remarked the Ultimate Consumer sweetly. She
+sat down and extended her hand across the spotless linen. "Mr. Lake
+says——"</p>
+
+<p>The Personal Devil flushed. It was not because of the proffered hand,
+which he took unhesitatingly and held rather firmly. The blush was
+unmistakably caused by anger.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no connection whatever," he stated, grimly enough, "between
+the truth and Mr. Lake's organs of speech."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" cried the Ultimate Consumer triumphantly. "So you're Mr. Beebe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bransford—Jeff Bransford," corrected the Personal Devil crustily. He
+wilfully relapsed to his former slipshod speech. "Beebe, he's gone to
+the Pecos work, him and Ballinger. Mr. John Wesley Also-Ran Pringle's
+gone to Old Mexico to bring back another bunch of black, long-horned
+Chihuahuas. You now behold before you the last remaining Rose of
+Rosebud. But, why Beebe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why does Mr. Lake hate all of you so, Mr. Bransford?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because we are infamous scoundrels. Why Beebe?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't eat with one hand, Mr. Bransford," she said demurely. He
+looked at the prisoned hand with a start and released it grudgingly.
+"Help yourself," said his hostess cheerfully. "There's sandwiches, and
+roast beef and olives, for a mild beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"Why Beebe?" he said doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Help yourself to the salad and then please pass it over this way.
+Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why Beebe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well then! Because of the little eohippus, you know—and
+other things you said."</p>
+
+<p>"I see!" said the aggrieved Bransford. "Because I'm not from Ohio, like
+Beebe, I'm not supposed——"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if you're going to be fussy! I'm from California myself, Mr.
+Bransford. Out in the country at that. Don't let's quarrel, please.
+We were having such a lovely time. And I'll tell you a secret. It's
+ungrateful of me, and I ought not to; but I don't care—I don't like
+Mr. Lake much since we came on this trip. And I don't believe——" She
+paused, pinkly conscious of the unconventional statement involved in
+this sudden unbelief.</p>
+
+<p>"——what Lake says about us?" A much-mollified Bransford finished the
+sentence for her.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded. Then, to change the subject:</p>
+
+<p>"You do speak cowboy talk one minute—and all booky, polite and proper
+the next, you know. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bad associations," said Bransford ambiguously. "Also for 'tis my
+nature to, as little dogs they do delight to bark and bite. That beef
+sure tastes like more."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>"And now you may smoke while I pack up," announced the girl when
+dessert was over, at long last. "And please, there is something I want
+to ask you about. Will you tell me truly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Um—you sing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—a little."</p>
+
+<p>"If you will sing for me afterward?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. With pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, then. What's the story about?"</p>
+
+<p>Ellinor gave him her eyes. "Did you rob the post-office at
+Escondido—really?"</p>
+
+<p>Now it might well be embarrassing to be asked if you had committed a
+felony; but there was that behind the words of this naïve query—in
+look, in tone, in mental attitude—an unflinching and implicit faith
+that, since he had seen fit to do this thing, it must needs have been
+the right and wise thing to do, which stirred the felon's pulses to
+a pleasant flutter and caused a certain tough and powerful muscle to
+thump foolishly at his ribs. The delicious intimacy, the baseless
+faith, was sweet to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, I did!" he answered lightly. "Lake is one talkative little man,
+isn't he? Fie, fie! But, shucks! What can you expect? 'The beast will
+do after his kind.'"</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll tell me about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"After I smoke. Got to study up some plausible excuses, you know."</p>
+
+<p>She studied him as she packed. It was a good face—lined, strong,
+expressive, vivid; gay, resolute, confident, alert—reckless,
+perhaps. There were lines of it disused, fallen to abeyance. What was
+well with the man had prospered; what was ill with him had faded and
+dimmed. He was not a young man—thirty-seven, thirty-eight—(she was
+twenty-four)—but there was an unquenchable boyishness about him,
+despite the few frosty hairs at his temples. He bore his hard years
+jauntily: youth danced in his eyes. The explorer nodded to herself,
+well pleased. He was interesting—different.</p>
+
+<p>The tale suffered from Bransford's telling, as any tale will suffer
+when marred by the inevitable, barbarous modesty of its hero. It was a
+long story, cozily confidential; and there were interruptions. The sun
+was low ere it was done.</p>
+
+<p>"Now the song," said Jeff, "and then——" He did not complete the
+sentence; his face clouded.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I sing?"</p>
+
+<p>"How can I tell? What you will. What can I know about good songs—or
+anything else?" responded Bransford in sudden moodiness and
+dejection—for, after the song, the end of everything! He flinched at
+the premonition of irrevocable loss.</p>
+
+<p>The girl made no answer. This is what she sang. No; you shall not be
+told of her voice. Perhaps there is a voice that you remember, that
+echoes to you through the dusty years. How would you like to describe
+that?</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Oh, Sandy has monie and Sandy has land,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And Sandy has housen, sae fine and sae grand—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">But I'd rather hae Jamie, wi' nocht in his hand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Than Sandy, wi' all of his housen and land.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"My father looks sulky; my mither looks soor;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">They gloom upon Jamie because he is poor.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I lo'e them baith dearly, as a docther should do;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">But I lo'e them not half sae weel, dear Jamie, as you!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"I sit at my cribbie, I spin at my wheel;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I think o' the laddie that lo'es me sae weel.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Oh, he had but a saxpence, he brak it in twa,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And he gied me the half o't ere he gaed awa'!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"He said: 'Lo'e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa'!'</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">He said: 'Lo'e me lang, lassie, though I gang awa'!'</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Bland simmer is cooming; cauld winter's awa',</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And I'll wed wi' Jamie in spite o' them a'!"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Jeff's back was to a tree, his hat over his eyes. He pushed it up.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said; and then, quite directly: "Are you rich?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not—very," said Ellinor, a little breathless at the blunt query.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to be rich," said Jeff steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"'I'm going to be a horse,' quoth the little eohippus." The girl
+retorted saucily, though secretly alarmed at the import of this
+examination.</p>
+
+<p>"Ex-actly. So that's settled. What is your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hoffman."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do you live, Hoffman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ellinor," supplemented the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellinor, then. Where do you live, Ellinor?"</p>
+
+<p>"In New York—just now. Not in town. Upstate. On a farm. You see,
+grandfather's growing old—and he wanted father to come back."</p>
+
+<p>"New York's not far," said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden panic seized the girl. What next? In swift, instinctive
+self-defense she rose and tripped to the tree where lay her neglected
+sketch-book, bent over—and started back with a little cry of alarm.
+With a spring and a rush, Jeff was at her side, caught her up and
+glared watchfully at bush and shrub and tufted grass.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bransford! Put me down!"</p>
+
+<p>"What was it? A rattlesnake?"</p>
+
+<p>"A snake? What an idea! I just noticed how late it was. I must go."</p>
+
+<p>Crestfallen, sheepishly, Mr. Bransford put her down, thrust his hands
+into his pockets, tilted his chin and whistled an aggravating little
+trill from the Rye twostep.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bransford!" said Ellinor haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford's face expressed patient attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you lame?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford's eye estimated the distance covered during the recent
+snake episode, and then gave to Miss Hoffman a look of profound
+respect. His shoulders humped up slightly; his head bowed to the
+stroke: he stood upon one foot and traced the Rainbow brand in the dust
+with the other.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you all along I wasn't hurt," he said aggrieved. "Didn't I,
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you lame?" she repeated severely, ignoring his truthful saying.</p>
+
+<p>"'Not—very.'" The quotation marks were clearly audible.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you lame at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am—not what you might call really lame. Uh—no, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"And you deceived me like that!" Indignation checked her. "Oh, I am so
+disappointed in you! That was a fine, manly thing for you to do!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was such a lovely time," observed the culprit doggedly. "And such a
+chance might never happen again. And it isn't my fault I wasn't hurt,
+you know. I'm sure I wish I was."</p>
+
+<p>She gave him an icy glare.</p>
+
+<p>"Now see what you've done! Your men haven't come and you won't stay
+with Mr. Lake. How are you going to get home? Oh, I forgot—you can
+walk, as you should have done at first."</p>
+
+<p>The guilty wretch wilted yet further. He shuffled his feet; he
+writhed; he positively squirmed. He ventured a timid upward glance. It
+seemed to give him courage. Prompted, doubtless, by the same feeling
+which drives one to dive headlong into dreaded cold water, he said, in
+a burst of candor:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, ma'am, that little horse now—he really ain't got far.
+He got tangled up over there a ways——"</p>
+
+<p>The girl wheeled and shot a swift, startled glance at the little
+eohippus on the hillside, who had long since given over his futile
+struggles and was now nibbling grass with becoming resignation. She
+turned back to Bransford. Slowly, scathingly, she looked him over
+from head to foot and slowly back again. Her expression ran the
+gamut—wonder, anger, scorn, withering contempt.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I hate you!" she flamed at him.</p>
+
+<p>Amazement triumphed over the other emotions then—a real amazement: the
+detected impostor had resumed his former debonair bearing and met her
+scornful eye with a slow and provoking smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, you don't," he said reassuringly. "On the contrary, you don't
+hate me at all!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going home, anyhow," she retorted bitterly. "You may draw your own
+conclusions."</p>
+
+<p>Still, she did not go, which possibly had a confusing effect upon his
+inferences.</p>
+
+<p>"Just one minute, ma'am, if you please. How did you know so pat where
+the little black horse was? <i>I</i> didn't tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Little waves of scarlet followed each other to her burning face.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not going to stay another moment. You're detestable! And it's
+nearly sundown."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you needn't hurry. It's not far."</p>
+
+<p>She followed his gesture. To her intense mortification she saw the blue
+smoke of her home campfire flaunting up from a gully not half a mile
+away. It was her turn to droop now. She drooped.</p>
+
+<p>There was a painful silence. Then, in a far-off, hard, judicial tone:</p>
+
+<p>"How long, ma'am, if I may ask, have you known that the little black
+horse was tangled up?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor's eyes shifted wildly. She broke a twig from a mahogany
+bush and examined the swelling buds with minutest care.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said her ruthless inquisitor sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"Since—since I went for your hat," she confessed in a half whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"To deceive me so!" Pain, grief, surprise, reproach, were in his words.
+"Have you anything to say?" he added sadly.</p>
+
+<p>A slender shoe peeped out beneath her denim skirt and tapped on
+a buried boulder. Ellinor regarded the toetip with interest and
+curiosity. Then, half-audibly:</p>
+
+<p>"We were having such a good time.... And it might never happen again!"</p>
+
+<p>He captured both her hands. She drew back a little—ever so little; she
+trembled slightly, but her eyes met his frankly and bravely.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!... Not now.... Go, now, Mr. Bransford. Go at once. We will
+have a pleasant day to remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Until the next pleasant day," said resolute Bransford, openly
+exultant. "But see here, now—I can't go to Lake's camp or to Lake's
+ball"—here Miss Ellinor pouted distinctly—"or anything that is
+Lake's. After your masked ball, then what?"</p>
+
+<p>"New York; but it's only so far—on the map." She held her hands apart
+very slightly to indicate the distance. "On a little map, that is."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll drop in Saturdays," said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Do! I want to hear you sing the rest about the little eohippus."</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll sing about Sandy!" suggested Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Good-by now—I must go."</p>
+
+<p>"And you won't sing about Sandy to any one else?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl considered doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Why—I don't know—I've known you for a very little while, if you
+please." She gathered up her belongings. "But we're friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>No! No!</i>" said Jeff vehemently. "You won't sing it to any one
+else—Ellinor?"</p>
+
+<p>She drew a line in the dust.</p>
+
+<p>"If you won't cross that line," she said, "I'll tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford grasped a sapling with a firm clutch and shook it to try
+its strength.</p>
+
+<p>"A bird in the bush is the noblest work of God," he announced. "I'll
+take a chance."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were shining.</p>
+
+<p>"You've promised!" she said. She paused: when she spoke again her voice
+was low and a trifle unsteady. "I won't sing about Sandy to—any one
+else—Jeff!"</p>
+
+<p>Then she fled.</p>
+
+<p>Like Lot's wife, she looked back from the hillside. Jeff clung
+desperately to the sapling with one hand; from the other a
+handkerchief—hers—fluttered a good-by message. She threw him a
+farewell, with an ambiguous gesture.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>It was late when Jeff reached Rosebud Camp. He unsaddled Nigger Baby,
+the little and not entirely gentle black horse, rather unobtrusively;
+but Johnny Dines sauntered out during the process, announcing supper.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" sniffed Jeff. "S'pose I thought you'd wait until I come to get
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>Nothing more alarming than tallies was broached during supper, however.
+Afterward, Johnny tilted his chair back and, through cigarette smoke,
+contemplated the ceiling with innocent eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Nigger Babe looks drawed," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Uh-huh. Had one of them poor spells of his."</p>
+
+<p>Puff, puff.</p>
+
+<p>"Your saddle's skinned up a heap."</p>
+
+<p>"Run under a tree."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny's look of innocence grew more pronounced.</p>
+
+<p>"How'd you get your clothes so wet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rain," said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>Puff, puff.</p>
+
+<p>"You look right muddy too."</p>
+
+<p>"Dust in the air," said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!—yes." Silence during the rolling of another cigarette. Then:
+"How'd you get that cut on your head?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff's hand went to his head and felt the bump there. He regarded his
+fingers in some perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"That? Oh, that's where I bit myself!" He stalked off to bed in gloomy
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later Johnny called softly:</p>
+
+<p>"Jeff!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff grunted sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"Camping party down near Mayhill. Lot o' girls. I saw one of 'em. Young
+person with eyes and hair."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff grunted again. There was a long silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Nice bear!" There was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Good</i> old bear!" said Johnny tearfully. No answer. "Mister Bear, if I
+give you one nice, good, juicy bite——"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>U—ugg—rrh!</i>" said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Johnny decidedly, "I'll sleep in the yard."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE ROAD TO ROME</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Behold, one journeyed in the night.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">He sang amid the wind and rain;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">My wet sands gave his feet delight—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">When will that traveler come again?"</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>The Heart of the Road</i>,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent10"><span class="smcap">Anna Hempstead Branch</span>.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>A hypotenuse, as has been well said, is the longest side of a
+right-angled triangle. There is no need for details. That we are
+all familiar with the use of this handy little article is shown by
+the existence of shortcuts at every available opportunity, and by
+keep-off-o'-the-grass signs in parks.</p>
+
+<p>Now, had Jeff Bransford desired to go to Arcadia—to that masquerade,
+for instance—his direct route from Jackson's Ranch would have been
+cater-cornered across the desert, as has been amply demonstrated by
+Pythagoras and others.</p>
+
+<p>That Jeff did not want to go to Arcadia—to the masked ball, for
+instance—is made apparent by the fact that the afternoon preceding
+said ball saw him jogging southward toward Baird's, along the lonely
+base of that inveterate triangle whereof Jackson's, Baird's and
+Arcadia are the respective corners, leaving the fifty-five-mile
+hypotenuse far to his left. It was also obvious from the tenor of his
+occasional self-communings.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to make a bally fool of myself—do I, old Grasshopper?
+Anyhow, you'll be too tired when we get to 'Gene's."</p>
+
+<p>Grasshopper made no response, other than a plucky tossing of his bit
+and a quickening cadence in his rhythmical stride, by way of pardonable
+bravado.</p>
+
+<p>"I never forced myself in where my company wasn't wanted yet, and I
+ain't going to begin now," asserted Jeff stoutly; adding, as a fervent
+afterthought: "Damn Lake!"</p>
+
+<p>His way lay along the plain, paralleling the long westward range,
+just far enough out to dodge the jutting foothills; through bare
+white levels where Grasshopper's hoofs left but a faint trace on the
+hard-glazed earth. At intervals, tempting cross-roads branched away
+to mountain springs. The cottonwood at Independent Springs came into
+view round the granite shoulder of Strawberry, six miles to the right
+of him. He roused himself from prolonged pondering of the marvelous
+silhouette, where San Andres unflung in broken masses against the sky,
+to remark in a hushed whisper:</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if she'd be glad to see me?"</p>
+
+<p>Several miles later he quoted musingly:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"For Ellinor—her Christian name was Ellinor—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her!"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After all, there are problems which Pythagoras never solved.</p>
+
+<p>The longest road must have an end. Ritch's Ranch was passed far to
+the right, lying low in the long shadow of Kaylor; then the mouth of
+Hembrillo Cañon; far ahead, a shifting flicker of Baird's windmill
+topped the brush. It grew taller; the upper tower took shape. He dipped
+into the low, mirage-haunted basin, where the age-old Texas Trail
+crosses the narrow western corner of the White Sands. When he emerged
+the windmill was tall and silver-shining; the low iron roofs of the
+house gloomed sullen in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>Dust rose from the corral. Now Jeff's ostensible errand to the
+West Side had been the search for strays; three days before he had
+prudently been three days' ride farther to the north. The reluctance
+with which he had turned back southward was justified by the fact
+that this critical afternoon found him within striking distance of
+Arcadia—striking distance, that is, should he care for a bit of hard
+riding. This was exactly what Jeff had fought against all along. So,
+when he saw the dust, he loped up.</p>
+
+<p>It was as he had feared. A band of horses was in the waterpen;
+among them a red-roan head he knew—Copperhead, of Pringle's mount;
+confirmed runaway. Jeff shut the gate. For the first time that day, he
+permitted himself a discreet glance eastward to Arcadia.</p>
+
+<p>"Three days," he said bitterly, while Grasshopper thrust his eager
+muzzle into the water-trough—"three days I have braced back my feet
+and slid, like a yearlin' at a brandin' bee—and look at me now! Oh,
+Copperhead, you darned old fool, see what you done now!"</p>
+
+<p>In this morose mood he went to the house. There was no one at home. A
+note was tacked on the door.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>Gone to Plomo. Back in two or three days. Beef hangs under platform on
+windmill tower. When you get it, oil the mill. Books and deck of cards
+in box under bed. Don't leave fire in stove when you go.</p>
+
+<p class="ph3"><span class="smcap">Gene Baird.</span></p>
+
+<p>N. B.—Feed the cat.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Jeff built a fire in the stove and unsaddled the weary Grasshopper.
+He found some corn, which he put into a woven-grass <i>morral</i> and hung
+on Grasshopper's nose. He went to the waterpen, roped out Copperhead
+and shut him in a side corral. Then he let the bunch go. They strained
+through the gate in a mad run, despite shrill and frantic remonstrance
+from Copperhead.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeff," said Jeff soberly, "are you going to be a damned fool all your
+life? That girl doesn't care anything about you. She hasn't thought of
+you since. You stay right here and read the pretty books. That's the
+place for you."</p>
+
+<p>This advice was sound and wise beyond cavil. So Jeff took it valiantly.
+After supper he hobbled Grasshopper and took off the nosebag. Then he
+went to the back room in pursuit of literature.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Have I leave for a slight digression, to commit a long-delayed act of
+justice—to correct a grievous wrong? Thank you.</p>
+
+<p>We hear much of Mr. Andrew Carnegie and His Libraries, the Hall
+of Fame, the Little Red Schoolhouse, the Five-Foot Shelf, and the
+World's Best Books. A singular thing is that the most effective bit
+of philanthropy along these lines has gone unrecorded of a thankless
+world. This shall no longer be.</p>
+
+<p>Know, then, that once upon a time a certain soulless corporation,
+rather in the tobacco trade, placed in each package of tobacco a
+coupon, each coupon redeemable by one paper-bound book. Whether they
+were moved by remorse to this action or by sordid hidden purposes
+of their own, or, again, by pure, disinterested and farseeing love
+of their kind, is not yet known; but the results remain. There
+were three hundred and three volumes on that list, mostly—but not
+altogether—fiction. And each one was a classic. Classics are cheap.
+They are not copyrighted. Could I but know the anonymous benefactor
+who enrolled that glorious company, how gladly would I drop a leaf on
+his bier or a cherry in his bitters!</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was that, in one brief decade, the cowboys, with others, became
+comparatively literate. Cowboys all smoked. Doubtless that was a chief
+cause contributory to making them the wrecks they were. It destroyed
+their physique; it corroded and ate away their will power—leaving them
+seldom able to work over nineteen hours a day, except in emergencies;
+prone to abandon duty in the face of difficulty or danger, when human
+effort, raised to the <i>n</i>th power, could do no more—all things
+considered, the most efficient men of their hands on record.</p>
+
+<p>Cowboys all smoked: and the most deep-seated instinct of the human race
+is to get something for nothing. They got those books. In due course of
+time they read those books. Some were slow to take to it; but when you
+stay at lonely ranches, when you are left afoot until the waterholes
+dry up, so you may catch a horse in the waterpen—why, you must do
+something. The books were read. Then, having acquired the habit,
+they bought more books. Since the three hundred and three were all
+real books, and since the cowboys had been previously uncorrupted of
+predigested or sterilized fiction, or by "gift," "uplift" and "helpful"
+books, their composite taste had become surprisingly good, and they
+bought with discriminating care. Nay, more. A bookcase follows books; a
+bookcase demands a house; a house needs a keeper; a housekeeper needs
+everything. Hence alfalfa—houseplants—slotless tables—bankbooks.
+The chain which began with yellow coupons ends with Christmas trees.
+In some proudest niche in the Hall of Fame a grateful nation will yet
+honor that hitherto unrecognized educator, Front de Bœuf.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Jeff pawed over the tattered yellow-backed volumes in profane
+discontent. He had read them all. Another box was under the bed, behind
+the first. Opening it, he saw a tangled mass of clothing, tumbled in
+the bachelor manner; with the rest, a much-used football outfit—canvas
+jacket, sweater, padded trousers, woolen stockings, rubber noseguard,
+shinguards, ribbed shoes—all complete; for 'Gene Baird was fullback of
+the El Paso eleven.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff segregated the gridiron wardrobe with hasty hands. His eye
+brightened; he spoke in an awed and almost reverent voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't mostly superstitious, but this looks like a leading. First,
+I'm here; second, Copperhead's here; third, no one else is here; and,
+for the final miracle, here's a costume made to my hand. Thirty-five
+miles. Ten o'clock, if I hurry. H'm! 'When first I put this uniform
+on'—how did that go? I'm forgetting all my songs. Getting old, I
+guess."</p>
+
+<p>Rejecting the heavy shoes, as unmeet for waxed floors, and the
+shinguards, he rolled the rest of the uniform in his slicker and tied
+it behind his saddle. Then he rubbed his chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh! That's a true saying, too. I am getting old. Youth turns to
+youth. Buck up, Jeff, you old fool! Have some pride about you and just
+a little old horse-sense."</p>
+
+<p>Yet he unhobbled Grasshopper, who might then be trusted to find his way
+to Rainbow in about three days. He went to the corral and tossed a rope
+on snorting Copperhead. "No; I won't go!" he said, as he slipped on the
+bridle. "Just to uncock old Copperhead, I'll make a little horse-ride
+to Hospital Springs and look through the stock." He threw on the saddle
+with some difficulty—Copperhead was fat and frisky. "She don't want to
+see you, Jeff—an old has-been like you! No, no; I'd better not go. I
+won't! There, if I didn't leave that football stuff on the saddle! I'll
+take it off. It might get lost. Whoa, Copperhead!"</p>
+
+<p>Copperhead, however, declined to whoa on any terms. His eyes bulged
+out; he reared, he pawed, he snorted, he bucked, he squealed, he did
+anything but whoa. Exasperated, Jeff caught the bridle by the cheek
+piece and swung into the saddle. After a few preliminaries in the
+pitching line, Jeff started bravely for Hospital Springs.</p>
+
+<p>It was destined that this act of renunciation should be thwarted.
+Copperhead stopped and dug his feet in the ground as if about to take
+root. Jeff dug the spurs home. With an agonized bawl, Copperhead made a
+creditable ascension, shook himself and swapped ends before he hit the
+ground again. "<i>Wooh!</i>" he said. His nose was headed now for Arcadia;
+he followed his nose, his roan flanks fanned vigorously with a doubled
+rope.</p>
+
+<p>"Headstrong, stubborn, unmanageable brute! Oh, well, have it your own
+way then, you old fool! You'll be sorry!" Copperhead leaped out to the
+loosened rein. "This is just plain kidnapping!" said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>Kidnapped and kidnapper were far out on the plain as night came on.
+Arcadia road stretched dimly to the east; the far lights of La Luz
+flashed through the leftward dusk; straight before them was a glint
+and sparkle in the sky, faint, diffused, wavering; beyond, a warm and
+mellow glow broke the blackness of the mountain wall, where the lights
+of low-hidden Arcadia beat up against Rainbow Rim.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff was past his first vexation; he sang as he rode:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"There was ink on her thumb when I kissed her hand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she whispered: 'If you should die</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I'd write you an epitaph, gloomy and grand!'</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">'Time enough for that!' says I.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Keep a-movin here, Copperhead! Time fugits right along. You will play
+hooky, will you? 'I'm going to be a horse!'"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE MASKERS</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"For Ellinor (her Christian name was Ellinor)</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Had twenty-seven different kinds of hell in her."</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<span class="smcap">Richard Hovey.</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It lacked little of the eleventh hour when the football player reached
+the ballroom—last comer to the revels. A bandage round his head and
+a rubber noseguard, which also hid his mouth, served for a mask, eked
+out by crisscrossed strips of courtplaster. One arm was in a sling—for
+stage purposes only.</p>
+
+<p>As he limped through the door, Diogenes hurried to meet him, held up
+his lantern, peered hopefully into the battered face and shook his
+disappointed head. "Stung again!" muttered Diogenes.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff lisped in numbers which fully verified the cynic's misgiving.
+"7—11—4—11—44!" he announced jerkily. This was strictly in
+character and also excused him from entangling talk, leaving him free
+to search the whirl of dancers.</p>
+
+<p>A bulky Rough Rider volunteered his help. He fixed a gleaming eyeglass
+on his nose and politely offered Jeff a Big Stick by way of a
+crutch. "Hit the line hard!" he barked. He bit the words off with a
+prize-bulldog effect. He had fine teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff waved him off. "16—2—1!" he proclaimed controversially. He felt
+his spirits sinking, with a growing doubt of his ability to identify
+the Only One, and was impatient of interruption. He kept his slow and
+watchful way down the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Topsy broke away from her partner and stopped Jeff's crippled progress.
+Her short hair, braided to a dozen tight and tiny pigtails, bristled
+away in all directions.</p>
+
+<p>"Laws, young marsta', you suhtenly does look puny!" she said. Then she
+clutched at her knee. "<i>Aie!</i>" she tittered, as a loose red stocking
+dropped flappingly to her ankle. Pray do not be shocked. The effect
+was startling; but a black stocking, decorously tight and smooth, was
+beneath the red one. Jeff's mathematics were not equal to the strain
+of adequate comment. Topsy dived to the rescue. "Got a string?" she
+giggled, as she hitched the fallen stocking back to place. "I cain't
+fix this good nohow!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Man over there with an
+eyeglass cord—maybe you can get that. What makes you act so?" He
+looked cold disapproval; nevertheless, he looked.</p>
+
+<p>Topsy hung her head, still clutching at the stocking-top. "Dunno. I
+spec's it's 'cause Ise so wicked!" Finger in mouth, she looked after
+Jeff as he hobbled away.</p>
+
+<p>A slender witch bounced from a chair and barred his way with a broom.
+Her eyes were brimming sorcery; her lips looked saucy challenge; she
+leaned close for a whispered word in his ear: "How would you like to
+tackle me?"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jeff! "10, 2—10, 2!" he promised huskily. Yet he ducked beneath
+the broom.</p>
+
+<p>"But," said the little witch plaintively, "you're going away!" She
+dropped her broom and wept.</p>
+
+<p>"8, 2—8, 2—8, 2!" said Jeff, almost in tears himself, and again fell
+back upon English. "Mere figures or mere words can't tell you how much
+I hate to; but I've got to follow the ball. I'm looking for a fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"If he—if he doesn't love you," sobbed the stricken witch, "then
+you'll come back to me—won't you? I love a liar!"</p>
+
+<p>"To the very stake!" vowed Jeff. Such heroic, if conditional, constancy
+was not to go unrewarded. A couple detached themselves from the
+dancers, threaded their way to a corner of the long hall and stood
+there in deep converse. Jeff quickened pulse and pace—for one was a
+Red Devil and the other wore the soft gray costume of a Friend. She
+was tall, this Quakeress, and the hobnobbing devil was of Jeff's own
+height. Jeff began to hope for a goal.</p>
+
+<p>Briskly limping, he came to this engrossed couple and laid a friendly
+hand on the devil's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Brother," he said cordially, "will you please go to—home?"</p>
+
+<p>The devil recoiled an astonished step.</p>
+
+<p>"What? What!! Show me your license!"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-three!—Please!—there's a good devil—23! I'm the right guard
+for this lady, I hope. Oh, please to go home!"</p>
+
+<p>The devil took this request in very bad part.</p>
+
+<p>"Go back fifteen yards for offside play and take a drop kick at
+yourself!" he suggested sourly.</p>
+
+<p>A burly policeman, plainly conscious of fitting his uniform, paused for
+warning.</p>
+
+<p>"No scrappin' now! Don't start nothin' or I'll run in the t'ree av
+yees!" he said, and sauntered on, twirling a graceful nightstick.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee is a local man, judging from thy letters," said the Quaker lady,
+to relieve the somewhat strained situation. "What do they stand for? E.
+P.? Oh, yes—El Paso, of course!"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw you first!" said the Red Devil. "And with your disposition you
+would naturally find me more suitable. Make your choice of gridirons!
+Send him back to the side lines! Disqualify him for interference!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be hurried into a decision," said Jeff. "Eternity is a good
+while. Before it's over I'm going to be a—well, something more than a
+footballer. Golf, maybe—or tiddledywinks."</p>
+
+<p>The Quakeress glanced attentively from one to the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtless he will do his best to forward Thy Majesty's interests," she
+interposed. "Why not give him a chance?"</p>
+
+<p>The devil shrugged his shoulders. "I always prefer to give this branch
+of work my personal attention," he said stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"A specialty of thine?" mocked the girl.</p>
+
+<p>The devil bowed sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"My heart is in it. Of course, if you prefer the bungling of a novice,
+there is no more to be said."</p>
+
+<p>"Thy Majesty's manners have never been questioned," murmured the
+Quakeress, bowing dismissal. "So kind of you!"</p>
+
+<p>The devil bowed deeply and turned, pausing to hurl a gloomy prophecy
+over his shoulder. "See you later!" he said, and stalked away with an
+ill grace.</p>
+
+<p>Pigskin hero and girl Friend, left alone, eyed each other with mutual
+apprehension. The girl Friend was first to recover speech. Her red lips
+were prim below her vizor, her eyes downcast to hide their dancing
+lights. Timidly she spread out fanwise the dove color of her sober
+costume.</p>
+
+<p>"How does thee like my gray gown?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said Jeff brutally. "You're no friend of mine, I hope."</p>
+
+<p>A most un-Quakerlike dimple trembled to her chin, relieving the firm
+austerity of straight lips. Also, Jeff caught a glimpse of her eyes
+through the vizor. They were crinkling—and they were brown. She
+ventured another tentative remark, and there was in it an undertone
+lingering, softly confidential.</p>
+
+<p>"Is thee lame?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not—very," said Jeff, and saw a faint color start to the unmasked
+moiety of the Quaker cheek. "Still, if I may have the next dance, I
+shall be glad if you will sit it out with me." Painfully he raised the
+beslinged arm in explanation. <i>Sobre las Olas</i> throbbed out its wistful
+call; they set their thought to its haunting measure.</p>
+
+<p>"By all means!" She took his undamaged arm. "Let us find chairs."</p>
+
+<p>Now there were chairs to the left of them, chairs to the right of them,
+chairs vacant everywhere; but the gallant Six Hundred themselves were
+not more heedless or undismayed than these two. Still, all the world
+did not wonder. On the contrary, not even the anxious devil saw them
+after they passed behind a knot of would-be dancers who were striving
+to disentangle themselves. For, seeing traffic thus blocked, the
+policeman rushed to unsnarl the tangle. Magnificently he flourished his
+stick. He adjured them roughly: "Move on, yous! Move on!" Whereat,
+with one impulse, the tangle moved on the copper, swept over him,
+engulfed him, hustled him to the door and threw him out.</p>
+
+<p>So screened, the chair-hunters vanished in far less than a
+psychological moment: for Jeff, in obedience to a faint or fancied
+pressure on his arm, dived through portières into a small room set
+apart for such as had the heart to prefer cards or chess. The room was
+deserted now and there was a broad window open to the night. Thus,
+thrice favored of Providence, they found themselves in the garden,
+chairless but cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>A garden with one Eve is the perfect combination in a world awry.
+Muffled, the music and the sounds of the ballroom came faint and far
+to them; star-made shadows danced at their feet. The girl paused,
+expectant; but it was the unexpected that happened. The nimble tongue
+which had done such faithful service for Mr. Bransford now failed him
+quite: left him struggling, dumb, inarticulate, helpless—tongue and
+hand alike forgetful of their cunning.</p>
+
+<p>Be sure the maid had adroitly heard much of Mr. Bransford, his deeds
+and misdeeds, during the tedious interval since their first meeting.
+Report had dwelt lovingly upon Mr. Bransford's eloquence at need. This
+awkward silence was a tribute of sincerity above question.</p>
+
+<p>With difficulty Ellinor mastered a wild desire to ask where the
+cat had gone. "Oh, come ye in peace here or come ye in war?" Such
+injudicious quotation trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she
+suppressed it—barely in time. She felt herself growing nervous with
+the fear lest she should be hurried into some all too luminous speech.
+And still Jeff stood there, lost, speechless, helpless, unready, a
+clumsy oaf, an object of pity. Pity at last, or a kindred feeling,
+drove her to the rescue. And, just as she had feared, she said, in her
+generous haste, far too much.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were not coming?"</p>
+
+<p>The inflection made a question of this statement. Also, by implication,
+it answered so many questions yet unworded that Jeff was able to use
+his tongue again; but it was not the trusty tongue of yore—witness
+this wooden speech:</p>
+
+<p>"You mean you thought I said I wasn't coming—don't you? You knew I
+would come."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed? How should I know what you would do? I've only seen you once.
+Aren't you forgetting that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why else did you make up as a Friend then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Oh, dear, these men! There's conceit for you! I chose my costume
+solely to trap Mr. Bransford's eye? Is that it? Doubtless all my
+thoughts have centered on Mr. Bransford since I first saw him!"</p>
+
+<p>"You know I didn't mean that, Miss Ellinor. I——"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hoffman, if you please!"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hoffman. Don't be mean to me. I've only got an hour——"</p>
+
+<p>"An hour! Do you imagine for one second——Why, I mustn't stay here.
+This is really a farewell dance given in my honor. We go back East day
+after to-morrow. I must go in."</p>
+
+<p>"Only one little hour. And I have come a long ways for my hour. They
+take their masks off at midnight—don't they? And of course I can't
+stay after that. I want only just to ask you——"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you come then? Isn't it rather unusual to go uninvited to a
+ball?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I reckon you nearly know why I come, Miss Hoffman; but if you
+want me to say precisely, ma'am——"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't!"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll keep that for a surprise, then. Another thing: I wanted to
+find out just where you live in New York. I forgot to ask you. And I
+couldn't very well go round asking folks after you're gone—could I?
+Of course I didn't have any invitation—from Mr. Lake; but I thought,
+if he didn't know it, he wouldn't mind me just stepping in to get your
+address."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of all the assurance!" said Miss Ellinor. "Do you intend to
+start up a correspondence with me without even the formality of asking
+my consent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Miss Ellinor, ma'am, I thought——"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hoffman, sir! Yes—and there's another thing. You said you had
+no invitation—from Mr. Lake. Does that mean, by any chance, that I
+invited you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't say a word about my coming," said Jeff. He was a flustered
+man, this poor Bransford, but he managed to put a slight stress upon
+the word "say."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor—Miss Hoffman—caught this faint emphasis instantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I didn't <i>say</i> anything? I just looked an invitation, I suppose?"
+she stormed. "Melting eyes—and that sort of thing? Tears in them,
+maybe? Poor girl! Poor little child! It would be cruel to let her go
+home without seeing me again. I will give her a little more happiness,
+poor thing, and write to her a while. Maybe it would be wiser, though,
+just to make a quarrel and break loose at once. She'll get over it in a
+little while after she gets back to New York. Well! Upon my word!"</p>
+
+<p>As she advanced these horrible suppositions, Miss Hoffman had marked
+out a short beat of garden path—five steps and a turn; five steps
+back and whirl again—with, on the whole, a caged-tigress effect. With
+a double-quick at each turn to keep his place at her elbow, Jeff,
+utterly aghast at the damnable perversity of everything on earth,
+vainly endeavored to make coördinate and stumbling remonstrance. As
+she stopped for breath, Jeff heard his own voice at last, propounding
+to the world at large a stunned query as to whether the abode of lost
+spirits could afford aught to excel the present situation. The remark
+struck him: he paused to wonder what other things he had been saying.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor walked her beat, vindictive. Her chin was at an angle of
+complacency. She turned up the perky corners of an imaginary mustache
+with an air, an exasperating little finger, separated from the others,
+pointing upward in hateful self-satisfaction. Her mouth wore a
+gratified masculine smirk, visible even in the starlight; her gait was
+a leisured and lordly strut; her hand waved airy pity. Jeff shrank back
+in horror.</p>
+
+<p>"M-Miss Hoffman, I n-never d-dreamed——"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman turned upon him swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>"Never have I heard anything like it—never! You bring me out here
+willy-nilly, and by way of entertainment you virtually accuse me of
+throwing myself at your head."</p>
+
+<p>"I never!" said Jeff indignantly. "I didn't——"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman faced him crouchingly and shook an indictment from her
+fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"First, you imply that I enticed you to come; second, expecting you, I
+dressed to catch your eye; third, I was watching eagerly for you——"</p>
+
+<p>"Come—I say now!" The baited and exasperated victim walked headlong
+into the trap. "The first thing you did was to ask me if I was lame?
+Wasn't that question meant to find out who I was? When I answered,
+'Not—very,' didn't you know at once that it was me?"</p>
+
+<p>"There! That proves exactly what I was just saying," raged the
+delighted trapper. "You don't even deny it! You say in so many words
+that I have been courting you! I had to say something—didn't I? You
+wouldn't! You were limping, so I asked you if you were lame. What
+else could I have said? Did you want me to stand there like a stuffed
+Egyptian mummy? That's the thanks a girl gets for trying to help a
+great, awkward, blundering butter-fingers! Oh, if you could just see
+yourself! The irresistible conqueror! Not altogether unprincipled
+though! You <i>are</i> capable of compunction. I'll give you credit for
+that. Alarmed at your easy success, you try to spare me. It is noble of
+you—noble! You drag me out here, force a quarrel upon me——"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by Jove now! Really!" Stung by the poignant injustice of crowding
+events, Jeff took the bit in his teeth and rushed to destruction.
+"Really, you must see yourself that I couldn't drag you out here!
+I have never been in that hall before. I didn't know the lay of
+the ground. I didn't even know that little side room was there. I
+thought you pressed my arm a little——" So the brainless colt, in the
+quicksands, flounders deeper with each effort to extricate himself.</p>
+
+<p>If Miss Hoffman had been angry before she was furious now.</p>
+
+<p>"So <i>that's</i> the way of it? Better and better! <i>I</i> dragged <i>you</i> out!
+Really, Mr. Bransford, I feel that I should take you back to your
+chaperon at once. You might be compromised, you know!"</p>
+
+<p>Goaded to desperation, he acted on this hint at once. He turned, with
+stiff and stilted speech:</p>
+
+<p>"I will take you back to the window, Miss Hoffman. Then there is
+nothing for me to do but go. I am sorry to have caused you even a
+moment's annoyance. To-morrow you will see how you have twisted—I
+mean, how completely you have misinterpreted everything I have
+said. Perhaps some day you may forgive me. Here is the window.
+Good-night—good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman lingered, however.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, if you apologize——"</p>
+
+<p>"I do, Miss Hoffman. I beg your pardon most sincerely for anything I
+have ever said or done that could hurt you in any way."</p>
+
+<p>"If you are sure you are sorry—if you take it all back and will never
+do such a thing again—perhaps I may forgive you."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't—I am—I will!" said the abject and groveling wretch. Which
+was incoherent but pleasing. "I didn't mean anything the way you took
+it; but I'm sorry for everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I didn't beguile you to come? Or mask as a Friend in the hope
+that you would identify me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor pressed her advantage cruelly. "Nor take stock of each new
+masker to see if he possibly wasn't the expected Mr. Bransford? Nor
+drag you into the garden? Nor squeeze your arm?" Her hands went to her
+face, her lissome body shook. "Oh, Mr. Bransford!" she sobbed between
+her fingers. "How could you—how <i>could</i> you say that?"</p>
+
+<p>The clock chimed. A pealing voice beat out into the night: "Masks off!"
+A hundred voices swelled the cry; it was drowned in waves of laughter.
+It rose again tumultuously: "<i>Masks off! Masks off!</i>" Nearer came
+hateful voices, too, that cried: "<i>Ellinor! Ellinor! Where are you?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"I must go!" said Jeff. "They'll be looking for you. No; you didn't do
+any of those things. You couldn't do any of those things. Good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ellinor! Ellinor Hoffman!! Where are you?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman whipped off her mask. From the open window a shaft of
+light fell on her face. It was flushed, sparkling, radiant. "Masks
+off!" she said. "Stupid!... Oh, you great goose! Of course I did!" She
+stepped back into the shadow.</p>
+
+<p>No one, as the copybook says justly, may be always wise. Conversely,
+the most unwise of us blunders sometimes upon the right thing to
+do. With a glimmer of returning intelligence Mr. Bransford laid his
+noseguard on the window-sill.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sir!</i>" said Ellinor then. "How dare you?" Then she turned the other
+cheek. "Good-by!" she whispered, and fled away to the ballroom.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford, in the shadows, scratched his head dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Her Christian name was Ellinor," he muttered. "Ellinor! H'm—Ellinor!
+Very appropriate name.... Very!... And I don't know yet where she
+lives!"</p>
+
+<p>He wandered disconsolately away to the garden wall, forgetting the
+discarded noseguard.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE ISLE OF ARCADY</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Then the moon shone out so broad and good</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That the barn-fowl crowed:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And the brown owl called to his mate in the wood</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>That a dead man lay in the road!</i>"</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<span class="smcap">Will Wallace Harney.</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Arcadia's assets were the railroad, two large modern sawmills, the
+climate and printer's ink. The railroad found it a patch of bare
+ground, six miles from water; put in successively a whistling-post, a
+signboard, a depot, townsite papers and a water-main from the Alamo;
+and, when the townsite papers were confirmed, established machine shops
+and made the new town the division headquarters and base for northward
+building.</p>
+
+<p>The railroad then set up the sawmills, primarily to get out ties
+and timbers for its own lanky growth, and built a spur to bring
+the forest down from Rainbow to the mills. The word "down" is used
+advisedly. Arcadia nestled on the plain under the very eavespouts of
+Rainbow Range. The branch, following with slavish fidelity the lines
+of a twisted corkscrew, took twenty-seven miles, mostly tunnel and
+trestlework, to clamber to the logging camps, with a minimum grade that
+was purely prohibitive and a maximum that I dare not state; but there
+was a rise of six thousand feet in those twenty-seven miles. You can
+figure the average for yourself. And if the engine should run off the
+track at the end of her climb she would light on the very roundhouse
+where she took breakfast, and spoil the shingles.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, that was some railroad. There was a summer hotel—Cloudland—on
+the summit, largely occupied by slackwire performers. Others walked up
+or rode a horse. They used stem-winding engines, with eight vertical
+cylinders on the right side and a shaft like a steamboat, with beveled
+cogwheel transmission on the axles. And they haven't had a wreck on
+that branch to date. No matter how late a train is, when an engine sees
+the tail-lights of her caboose ahead of her she stops and sends out
+flagmen.</p>
+
+<p>The railroad, under the pseudonym of the Arcadia Development Company,
+also laid out streets and laid in a network of pipe-lines, and staked
+out lots until the sawmill protested for lack of tie-lumber. It put
+down miles of cement walks, fringed them with cottonwood saplings,
+telephone poles and electric lights. It built a hotel and a few streets
+of party-colored cottages—directoire, with lingerie tile roofs,
+organdy façades and peplum, intersecting panels and outside chimneys
+at the gable ends. It decreed a park, with nooks, lanes, mazes, lake,
+swans, ballground, grandstand, bandstand and the band appertaining
+there-unto—all of which apparently came into being over night. Then it
+employed a competent staff of word-artists and capitalized the climate.</p>
+
+<p>The result was astonishing. The cottonwoods grew apace and a swift town
+grew with them—swift in every sense of the word. It took good money
+to buy good lots in Arcadia. People with money must be fed, served
+and amused by people wanting money. In three years the trees cast a
+pleasant shade and the company cast a balance, with gratifying results.
+They discounted the unearned increment for a generation to come.</p>
+
+<p>It was a beneficent scheme, selling ozone and novelty, sunshine and
+delight. The buyers got far more than the worth of their money, the
+company got their money—and every one was happy. Health and good
+spirits are a bargain at any price. There were sandstorms and hot days;
+but sand promotes digestion and digestion promotes cheerfulness. Heat
+merely enhanced the luxury of shaded hammocks. As an adventurer thawed
+out, he sent for seven others worse than himself. Arcadia became the
+metropolis of the county and, by special election, the county-seat.
+Courthouse, college and jail followed in quick succession.</p>
+
+<p>For the company, Arcadia life was one grand, sweet song, with, thus
+far, but a single discord. As has been said, Arcadia was laid out on
+the plain. There was higher ground on three sides—Rainbow Mountain to
+the east, the deltas of La Luz Creek and the Alamo to the north and
+south. New Mexico was dry, as a rule. After the second exception, when
+enthusiastic citizens went about on stilts to forward a project for
+changing the town's name to Venice, the company acknowledged its error
+handsomely. When dry land prevailed once more above the face of the
+waters, it built a mighty moat by way of the <i>amende honorable</i>—a moat
+with its one embankment on the inner side of the five-mile horseshoe
+about the town. This, with its attendant bridges, gave to Arcadia an
+aspect singularly medieval. It also furnished a convenient line of
+social demarcation. Chauffeurs, college professors, lawyers, gamblers,
+county officers, together with a few tradesmen and railroad officials,
+abode within "the Isle of Arcady," on more or less even terms with the
+Arcadians proper; millmen, railroaders, lumberjacks, and the underworld
+generally, dwelt without the pale.</p>
+
+<p>The company rubbed its lamp again—and behold! an armory, a hospital
+and a library! It contributed liberally to churches and campaign
+funds; it exercised a general supervision over morals and manners. For
+example, in the deed to every lot sold was an ironclad, fire-tested,
+automatic and highly constitutional forfeiture clause, to the effect
+that sale or storage on the premises of any malt, vinous or spirituous
+liquors should immediately cause the title to revert to the company.
+The company's own vicarious saloon, on Lot Number One, was a sumptuous
+and magnificent affair. It was known as The Mint.</p>
+
+<p>All this while we have been trying to reach the night watchman.</p>
+
+<p>In the early youth of Arcadia there came to her borders a warlock Finn,
+of ruddy countenance and solid build. He had a Finnish name, and they
+called him Lars Porsena.</p>
+
+<p>Lars P. had been a seafaring man. While spending a year's wage in San
+Francisco, he had wandered into Arcadia by accident. There, being
+unable to find the sea, he became a lumberjack—with a custom, when in
+spirits, of beating the watchman of that date into an omelet.</p>
+
+<p>The indulgence of this penchant gave occasion for much adverse
+criticism. Fine and imprisonment failed to deter him from this playful
+habit. One watchman tried to dissuade Lars from his foible with a
+club, and his successor even went so far as to shoot him—to shoot
+Lars P., of course, not his predecessor—the successor's predecessor,
+not Lars Porsena's—if he ever had one, which he hadn't. (What we need
+is more pronouns.) He—the successor of the predecessor—resigned
+when Lars became convalescent; but Lars was no whit dismayed by this
+contretemps—in his first light-hearted moment he resumed his old
+amusement with unabated gayety.</p>
+
+<p>Thus was one of our greatest railroad systems subjected to
+embarrassment and annoyance by the idiosyncrasies of an ignorant but
+cheerful sailorman. The railroad resolved to submit no longer to such
+caprice. A middleweight of renown was imported, who—when he was able
+to be about again—bitterly reproached the president and demanded a
+bonus on the ground that he had knocked Lars down several times before
+he—Lars—got angry; and also because of a disquisition in the Finnish
+tongue which Lars Porsena had emitted during the procedure—which
+address, the prizefighter stated, had unnerved him and so led to
+his undoing. It was obviously, he said, of a nature inconceivably
+insulting; the memory of it rankled yet, though he had heard only the
+beginning and did not get the—But let that pass.</p>
+
+<p>The thing became a scandal. Watchman succeeded watchman on the company
+payroll and the hospital list, until some one hit upon a happy and
+ingenious way to avoid this indignity. Lars Porsena was appointed
+watchman.</p>
+
+<p>This statesmanlike policy bore gratifying results. Lars Porsena
+straightway abandoned his absurd and indefensible custom, and no
+imitator arose. Also, Arcadia within the moat—the island—which was
+the limit of his jurisdiction, became the most orderly spot in New
+Mexico.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>In the first gray of dawn, Uncle Sam, whistling down Main Street on his
+way home from the masquerade, found Lars Porsena lying on his face in a
+pool of blood.</p>
+
+<p>The belated reveler knelt beside him. The watchman was shot, but still
+breathed. "Ho! Murder! Help! Murder!" shouted Uncle Sam. The alarm
+rolled crashing along the quiet street. Heads were thrust from windows;
+startled voices took up the outcry; other home-goers ran from every
+corner; hastily arrayed householders poured themselves from street
+doors.</p>
+
+<p>Lars Porsena was in disastrous plight. He breathed, but that was about
+all. He was shot through the body. A trail of blood led back a few
+doors to Lake's Bank. A window was cut out; the blood began at the sill.</p>
+
+<p>Messengers ran to telephone the doctor, the sheriff, Lake. The
+knot of men grew to a crowd. A rumor spread that there had been an
+unusual amount of currency in the bank over night—a rumor presently
+confirmed by Bassett, the bare-headed and white-faced cashier. It was
+near payday; in addition to the customary amount to cash checks for
+railroaders and millhands—itself no mean sum—and the money for
+regular business, there had been provision for contemplated loans to
+promoters of new local industries.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor came running, made a hasty examination, took emergency
+measures to stanch the freshly started blood, and swore whole-heartedly
+at the ambulance and the crowding Arcadians. He administered a
+stimulant. Lars Porsena fluttered his eyes weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"Stand back, you idiots! Bash these fools' faces in for 'em, some one!"
+said the medical man. He bent over the watchman. "Who did it, Lars?"</p>
+
+<p>Lars made a vain effort to speak. The doctor gave him another sip of
+restorative and took a pull himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Try again, old man. You're badly hurt and you may not get another
+chance. Did you know him?"</p>
+
+<p>Lars gathered all his strength to a broken speech:</p>
+
+<p>"No.... Bank.... Found window.... Midnight ... Nearly .... Shot me....
+Didn't see him." He fell back on Uncle Sam's starry vest.</p>
+
+<p>"Ambulance coming," said Uncle Sam. "Will he live, doc?"</p>
+
+<p>Doc shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor chance. Lost too much blood. If he had been found in time he
+might have pulled through. Wonderful vitality. Ought to be dead now,
+by the books. Still, there's a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought," said Uncle Sam to Cyrano de Bergerac, as the
+ambulance bore away its unconscious burden, "that I would ever be so
+sorry at anything that could happen to Lars Porsena—after the way he
+made me stop singing on my own birthday. He was one grand old fighting
+machine!"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>STATES-GENERAL</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And laid the wyte on Geordie."</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>Old Ballad.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>That the master's eye is worth two servants had ever been Lake's
+favorite maxim. He had not yet gone to bed when the message reached
+him, where he kept his masterly eye on the proper closing up of the
+ballroom. He came through the crowd now, shouldering his way roughly,
+still in his police costume—helmet, tunic and belt. In his wake came
+the sheriff, who had just arrived, scorching to the scene on his trusty
+wheel.</p>
+
+<p>On the bank steps, Lake turned to face the crowd. His strong canine jaw
+was set to stubborn fighting lines; the helmet did not wholly hide the
+black frown or the swollen veins at his temple.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in, Thompson, and help the sheriff size the thing up—and
+you, Alec"—he stabbed the air at his choice with a strong blunt
+finger—"and Turnbull—you, Clarke—and you.... Bassett, you keep the
+door. Admit no one!"</p>
+
+<p>Lake was the local great man. Never had he appeared to such advantage
+to his admirers; never had his ascendency seemed so unquestioned and so
+justified. As he stood beside the sheriff in the growing light, the man
+was the incarnation of power—the power of wealth, position, prestige,
+success. In this moment of yet unplumbed disaster, taken by surprise,
+summoned from a night of crowded pleasure, he held his mastery, chose
+his men and measures with unhesitant decision—planned, ordered, kept
+to that blunt direct speech of his that wasted no word. A buzz went up
+from the unadmitted as the door swung shut behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Lake had chosen well. Arcadia in epitome was within those pillaged
+walls. Thompson was president of the rival bank. Alec was division
+superintendent. Turnbull was the mill-master. Clarke was editor of the
+<i>Arcadian Day</i>. Clarke had been early to the storm-center; yet, of all
+the investigators, Clarke alone was not more or less disheveled. He was
+faultlessly appareled—even to the long Prince Albert and black string
+tie—in which, indeed, report said, he slept.</p>
+
+<p>So much for capital, industry and the fourth estate. The last of the
+probers, whom Lake had drafted merely by the slighting personal pronoun
+"you," was nevertheless identifiable in private life by the name of
+Billy White—being, indeed, none other than our old friend the devil.
+His indigenous mustache still retained a Mephistophelian twist; he was
+becomingly arrayed in slippers, pajamas and a pink bathrobe, girdled at
+the waist with a most unhermitlike cord, having gone early and surly
+to bed. In this improvised committee he fitly represented Society:
+while the sheriff represented society at large and, ex officio, that
+incautious portion under duress. Yet one element was unrepresented;
+for Lake made a mistake which other great men have made—of failing to
+reckon with the masterless men, who dwell without the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Lake led the way.</p>
+
+<p>"Will the watchman die, Alec, d'you think?" whispered Billy, as they
+filed through the grilled door to the counting room.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know. Hope not. Game old rooster. Good watchman, too," said
+Turnbull, the mill-superintendent.</p>
+
+<p>Lake turned on the lights. The wall-safe was blown open; fragments of
+the door were scattered among the overturned chairs.</p>
+
+<p>In an open recess in the vault there was a dull yellow mass; the
+explosion had spilled the front rows of coin to a golden heap. Behind,
+some golden rouleaus were intact: others tottered precariously, as you
+have perhaps seen beautiful tall stacks of colored counters do. Gold
+pieces were strewn along the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God, they didn't get all the gold anyhow!" said Lake, with a
+sigh of relief. "Then, of course, they didn't touch the silver; but
+there was a lot of greenbacks—over twenty-five thousand, I think.
+Bassett will know. And I don't know how much gold is gone. Look round
+and see if they left anything incriminating, sheriff, anything that we
+can trace them by."</p>
+
+<p>"He heard poor old Lars coming," said the sheriff. "Then, after he shot
+him, he hadn't the nerve to come back for the gold. This strikes me as
+being a bungler's job. Must have used an awful lot of dynamite to tear
+that door up like that! Funny no one heard the explosion. Can't be much
+of your gold gone, Lake. That compartment is pretty nearly as full as
+it will hold."</p>
+
+<p>"Or heard him shoot our watchman," suggested Thompson. "Still, I don't
+know. There's blasting going on in the hills all the time and almost
+every one was at the masquerade or else asleep. How many times did they
+shoot old Lars—does anybody know? Is there any idea what time it was
+done?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was shot once—right here," said Alec, indicating the spot on the
+flowered silk that had been part of his mandarin's dress. "Gun was held
+so close it burnt his shirt. Awful hole. Don't believe the old chap'll
+make it. He crawled along toward the telephone station till he dropped.
+Say! Central must have heard that shot! It's only two blocks away. She
+ought to be able to tell what time it was."</p>
+
+<p>"Lars said it was just before midnight," said Clarke.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!—did he speak?" asked Lake. "How many robbers were there? Did he
+know any of them?"</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't see anybody—shot just as he reached the window. Hope some
+one hangs for this!" said Clarke. "Lake, I wish you'd have this money
+picked up—I'm not used to walking on gold—or else have me watched."</p>
+
+<p>Lake shook his head, angry at the untimely pleasantry. It was a
+pleasantry in effect only, put forward to hide uneditorial agitation
+and distress for Lars Porsena. Lake's undershot jaw thrust forward; he
+fingered the blot of whisker at his ear. It was a time for action, not
+for talk. He began his campaign.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, sheriff! You ought to wire up and down the line to keep a
+lookout. Hold all suspicious characters. Then get a posse to ride for
+some sign round the town. If we only had something to go on—some clue!
+Later we'll look through this town with a finetooth comb. Most likely
+they—or he, if there was only one—won't risk staying here. First of
+all, I've got to telegraph to El Paso for money to stave off a run on
+the bank. You'll help me, Thompson? Of course my burglar insurance will
+make good my loss—or most of it; but that'll take time. We mustn't
+risk a run. People lose their heads so I'll give you a statement for
+the <i>Day</i>, Clarke, as soon as I find out where Mr. Thompson stands."</p>
+
+<p>"I will back you up, sir. With the bulk of depositors' money loaned
+out, no bank, however solvent, can withstand a continued run without
+backing. I shall be glad to tide you over if only for my own
+protection. A panic is contagious——"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," said Lake shortly, interrupting this stately financial
+discourse. "Then we shall do nicely.... Let's see—to-morrow's payday.
+You fellows"—he turned briskly to the two superintendents—"can't
+you hold up your payday, say, until Saturday? Stand your men off. The
+company stands good for their money. They can wait a while."</p>
+
+<p>"No need to do that," said Alec. "I'll have the railroad checks drawn
+on St. Louis. The storekeepers'll cash 'em. If necessary I'll wire for
+authority to let Turnbull pay off the millhands with railroad checks.
+It's just taking money from one pocket to put it in the other, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that's all right! Now for the robbers!" The banker's face
+betrayed impatience. "My first duty was to protect my clients; but now
+we'll waste no more time. You gentlemen make a close search for any
+possible scrap of evidence while the sheriff and I write our telegrams.
+I must wire the burglar insurance company, too." He plunged a pen into
+an inkwell and fell to work.</p>
+
+<p>Acting upon this hint, the sheriff took a desk. "Wish Phillips was
+here—my deputy," he sighed. "I've sent for him. He's got a better head
+than I have for noticing clues and things." This was eminently correct
+as well as modest. The sheriff was a Simon-pure Arcadian, the company's
+nominee; his deputy was a concession to the disgruntled Hinterland,
+where the unobservant rarely reach maturity.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Alec!" said Lake over his shoulder, "you sit down, too, and wire
+all your conductors about their passengers last night. Yes, and the
+freight crews, too. We'll rush those through first. And can't you scare
+up another operator?" His pen scratched steadily over the paper. "More
+apt to be some of our local outlaws, though. In that case it will be
+easier to find their trail. They'll probably be on horseback."</p>
+
+<p>"You were an—old-timer yourself, were you not?" asked Billy amiably.
+"If the robbers are frontiersmen they may be easier to get track of, as
+you suggest; but won't they be harder to get?" Billy spoke languidly.
+The others were searching assiduously for "clues" in the most approved
+manner, but Billy sprawled easily in a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll get 'em if we can find out who they were," snapped Lake, setting
+his strong jaw. He did not particularly like Billy—especially since
+their late trip to Rainbow. "There never was a man yet so good but
+there was one just a little better."</p>
+
+<p>"By a good man, in this connection, you mean a bad man, I presume?"
+said Billy in a meditative drawl. "Were you a good man before you
+became a banker?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here! What's this?" The interruption came from Clarke. He pounced
+down between two fragments of the safe door and brought up an object
+which he held to the light.</p>
+
+<p>At the startled tones, Lake spun round in his swivel-chair. He held out
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, I don't think I ever saw anything like this thing before," he
+said. "Any of you know what it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a noseguard," said Billy. Billy was a college man and had worn a
+nosepiece himself. He frowned unconsciously, remembering his successful
+rival of the masquerade.</p>
+
+<p>"A noseguard? What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"You wear it to protect your nose and teeth when playing football,"
+explained Billy. "Keeps you from swearing, too. You hold this piece
+between your teeth; the other part goes over your nose, up between your
+eyes and fastens with this band around your forehead."</p>
+
+<p>"Why! Why!" gasped Clarke, "there was a man at the masquerade togged
+out as a football player!"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw him," said Alec. "And he wore one of these things. I saw him
+talking to Topsy."</p>
+
+<p>"One of my guests?" demanded Lake scoffingly. "Oh, nonsense! Some young
+fellow has been in here yesterday, talking to the clerks, and dropped
+it. Who went as a football player, White? You know all these college
+boys. Know anything about this one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a thing." There Billy lied—a prompt and loyal
+gentleman—reasoning that Buttinski, as he mentally styled the
+interloper who had mis-appropriated the Quaker lady, would have cared
+nothing at that time for a paltry thirty thousand. Thus was he guilty
+of a practice against which we are all vainly warned—of judging others
+by ourselves. Billy remembered very distinctly that Miss Ellinor had
+not reappeared until the midnight unmasking, and he therefore acquitted
+her companion of this particular crime, entirely without prejudice to
+Buttinski's felonious instincts in general. For the watchman had been
+shot before midnight. Billy made a tentative mental decision that this
+famous noseguard had been brought to the bank later and left there
+purposely; and resolved to keep his eye open.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, it's no great difference anyhow," said Lake. "Whoever it
+was dropped it here yesterday, I guess, and got another one for the
+masquerade."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on there!" said Clarke, holding the spotlight tenaciously. "That
+don't go! This thing was on top of one of those pieces of the safe!"</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Lake was startled from his iron composure.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure?" he demanded, jumping up.</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! It was right here against the sloping side of this piece—so."</p>
+
+<p>"That puts a different light on the case, gentlemen," said Lake. "Luck
+is with us; and——"</p>
+
+<p>"And, while I think of it," said Clarke, making the most of his
+unexpected opportunity, "I made notes of all the costumes and their
+wearers after the masks were off—for the paper, you know—and I saw no
+football player there. I remember that distinctly."</p>
+
+<p>"I only saw him the one time," confirmed Alec, "and I stayed almost to
+the break-up. Whoever it was, he left early."</p>
+
+<p>"But what possible motive could the robber have for going to the dance
+at all?" queried Lake in perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe he made his appearance there in a football suit purposely, so
+as to leave us some one to hunt for, and then committed the robbery
+and went back in another costume," suggested Clarke, pleased and not
+a little surprised at his own ingenuity. "In that case, he would have
+left this rubber thing here of design."</p>
+
+<p>"H'm!" Lake was plainly struck with this theory. "And that's not
+such a bad idea, either! We'll look into this football matter after
+breakfast. You'll go to the hotel with me, gentlemen? Our womankind are
+all asleep after the ball. The sheriff will send some one to guard the
+bank. Meantime I'll call the cashier in and find out exactly how much
+money we're short. Send Bassett in, will you, Billy? You stay at the
+door and keep that mob out."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>ARCADES AMBO</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"What means this, my lord?"</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief."</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>Hamlet.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>"We are here to do what service we may, for honor and not for
+hire."—<span class="smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>With Billy went the sheriff and Alec, the latter with a sheaf of
+telegrams.</p>
+
+<p>"Now ... how did Buttinski's noseguard get into this bank? That's
+what I'd like to know," said Billy to the doorknob, when the other
+committeemen had gone their ways. "I didn't bring it. I don't believe
+Buttinski did.... And Policeman Lake certainly saw us quarreling. He
+noticed the football player, right enough,—and he pretends he didn't.
+Why—why—why does Policeman Lake pretend he didn't see that football
+player? Echo answers—why?... Denmark's all putrefied!"</p>
+
+<p>The low sun cleared the housetops. The level rays fell along the
+window-sill; and Billy, staring fascinated at the single blotch of
+dried blood on the inner sill, saw something glitter and sparkle there
+beside it. He went closer. It was a dust of finely powdered glass.
+Billy whistled.</p>
+
+<p>A light foot ran up the steps. There was a rap at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"No entrance except on business. No business transacted here!" quoted
+Billy, startled from a deep study. A head appeared at the window. "Oh,
+it's you, Jimmy? That's different. Come in!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Jimmy Phillips, the chief deputy. Billy knew him and liked him.
+He unbarred the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, anything turned up yet?" demanded Jimmy. "I stopped in to see
+Lars. Him and me was old side partners."</p>
+
+<p>"How's he making it, Jimmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, doc said he had one chance in ten thousand; so he's all right, I
+guess," responded that brisk optimist. "They got any theory about the
+robber?"</p>
+
+<p>"They have that. A perfectly sound theory, too—only it isn't true,"
+said Billy in a low and guarded tone. "They'll tell you. I haven't got
+time. See here—if I give you the straight tip will you work it up and
+keep your head closed until you see which way the cat jumps? Can you
+keep it to yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mum as a sack of clams!" said Jimmy.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at this a minute!" Billy pointed to the tiny particles of glass
+on the inner sill. "Got that? Then I'll dust it off. This is a case
+for your gummiest shoes. Now look at this!" He indicated the opening
+where the patch of glass had been cut from the big pane. Jimmy rubbed
+his finger very cautiously along the raw edge of the glass.</p>
+
+<p>"Cut out from the inside—then carried out there? A frame-up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. But I don't want anybody else to size it up for a
+frame-up—not now."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Jimmy good-naturedly, "I'd 'a' seen all that myself after a
+little if you hadn't 'a' showed me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Billy dryly; "and then told somebody! That's why I brushed
+the glass-dust off. I've got inside information—some that I'm going to
+share with you and some that I am not going to tell even you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Trot it out!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lake had the key of this front door in the policeman's uniform that
+he wore to the dance. Isn't that queer? If I were you I'd very quietly
+find out whether he went home to get that key after he got word that
+the bank was robbed. He was still in the ballroom when he got the
+message."</p>
+
+<p>"You think it's a put-up job? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is something not just right about the man Lake. His mind is too
+ballbearing altogether. He herds those chumps in there round like so
+many sheep. He used 'em to make discoveries with and then showed 'em
+how to force 'em on him. Oh, they made a heap of progress! They've got
+evidence enough up in there to hang John the Baptist, with Lake all
+the time setting back in the breeching like a balky horse. It's Lake's
+bank, and the bank's got burglar insurance. Got that? If he gets the
+money and the insurance, too—see? And I happen to know he has been
+bucking the market. I dropped a roll with him myself. Then there's
+r-r-revenge!—as they say on the stage—and something else beside. Has
+Lake any bitter enemies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oodles of 'em!"</p>
+
+<p>"But one worse than the others—one he hates most?"</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy thought for a while. Then he nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeff Bransford, I reckon."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he in town?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that I know of."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I never heard of your Mr. Bransford; but he's in town all right,
+all right! You'll see! Lake's got a case cooked up that'll hang some
+one higher than Haman; and I'll bet the first six years of my life
+against a Doctor Cook lecture ticket that the first letter of some
+one's name is Jeff Bransford."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe Jeff can prove he was somewhere else?" suggested Jimmy.</p>
+
+<p>Billy evaded the issue.</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of a man is this Bransford? Any good? Besides being an enemy
+of Lake's, I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bransford is one whom we all delight to humor," announced the
+deputy, after some reflection.</p>
+
+<p>"Friend of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy reflected again.</p>
+
+<p>"We-ll—yes!" he said. "He limps a little in cold weather, and I got a
+little small ditch plowed in my skull—but our horses was both young
+and wild, and the boys rode in between us before there was any harm
+done. I pulled him out of the Pecos since that, too, and poured some
+several barrels of water out o' him. Yes, we're good friends, I reckon."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll shoot back on proper occasion, then? A good sport? Stand the
+gaff?"</p>
+
+<p>"On proper occasion," rejoined Jimmy, "the other man will shoot
+back—if he's lucky. Yes, sir, Jeff's certainly one dead game sport at
+any turn in the road."</p>
+
+<p>"Considering the source and spirit of your information, you sadden me,"
+said Billy. "The better man he is, the better chance to hang. Has he
+got any close friends here?"</p>
+
+<p>"He seldom ever comes here," said Jimmy. "All his friends is on
+Rainbow, specially South Rainbow; but his particular side partners is
+all away just now; leastways, all but one."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you write to that one?"</p>
+
+<p>The deputy grinned hugely.</p>
+
+<p>"And tell him to come break Jeff out o' jail?" said he. "That don't
+seem hardly right, considerin'. You write to him—Johnny Dines,
+Morningside. You might wire up to Cloudland and have it forwarded from
+there. I'll pay."</p>
+
+<p>Billy made a note of it.</p>
+
+<p>"They'll be out here in a jiffy now," he said. "Now, Jimmy, you listen
+to all they tell you; follow it up; make no comments; don't see
+anything and don't miss anything. Let Lake think he's having it all his
+own way and he'll make some kind of a break that will give him away. We
+haven't got a thing against him yet except the right guess. And you be
+careful to catch your friend without a fight. When you get him I want
+you to give him a message from me; but don't mention any name. Tell him
+to keep a stiff upper lip—that the devil takes care of his own. Say
+the devil told you himself—in person. I don't want to show my hand.
+I'm on the other side—see? That way I can be in Lake's counsels—force
+myself in, if necessary, after this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"You think that if you give Lake rope enough——"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. Here they come—I hear their chairs."</p>
+
+<p>"Blonde or brunette?" said Jimmy casually.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The something else that you wouldn't tell me about," Jimmy explained.
+"Is she blonde or brunette?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, go to hell!" said Billy.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>TAKEN</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Lord Huntley then he did speak out—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O, fair mot fa' his body!—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">'I here will fight doublet alane</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or ony thing ails Geordie!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">'Whom has he robbed? What has he stole?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or has he killed ony?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Or what's the crime that he has done</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His foes they are so mony?'"</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>Old Ballad.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Hue and cry, hubbub and mystery, swept the Isle of Arcady that morning,
+but the most painstaking search and query proved fruitless. It
+developed beyond doubt that the football man had not been seen since
+his one brief appearance on the ballroom floor. Search was transferred
+to the mainland, where, as it neared noon, Lake's perseverance and
+thoroughness were rewarded. In Chihuahua suburb, beyond the north
+wall, Lake noted a sweat-marked, red-roan horse in the yard of Rosalio
+Marquez, better known, by reason of his profession, as Monte.</p>
+
+<p>Straightway the banker reported this possible clue to the sheriff and
+to Billy, who was as tireless and determined in the chase as Lake
+himself. The other masqueraders had mostly abandoned the chase. He
+found them on the bridge of the La Luz sallyport.</p>
+
+<p>"It may be worth looking into," Lake advised the sheriff. "Better send
+some one to reconnoiter—some one not known to be connected with your
+office. You go, Billy. If you find anything suspicious the sheriff can
+'phone to the hospital if he needs me. I'm going over to see how the
+old watchman is—ought to have gone before. If he gets well I must do
+something handsome for him."</p>
+
+<p>Billy fell in with this request. He had a well-founded confidence in
+Lake's luck and attached much more significance to the trifling matter
+of the red-roan horse than did the original discoverer—especially
+since the discoverer had bethought himself to go to the hospital on an
+errand of mercy. Billy now confidently expected early developments.
+And he preferred personally to conduct the arrest, so that he might
+interfere, if necessary, to prevent any wasting of good cartridges.
+He did not expect much trouble, however, providing the affair was
+conducted tactfully; reasoning that a dead game sport with a clean
+conscience and a light heart would not seriously object to a small
+arrest. Poor Billy's own heart was none of the lightest as he went on
+this loyal service to his presumably favored rival.</p>
+
+<p>Bicycle-back, he accompanied the sheriff beyond the outworks to the
+Mexican quarter. Near the place indicated by the banker Billy left his
+wheel and strolled casually round the block. He saw the red-roan steed
+and noted the Double Rainbow branded on his thigh.</p>
+
+<p>Monte was leaning in the adobe doorway, rolling a cigarette. Billy knew
+him, in a business way.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Monte! Good horse you've got there."</p>
+
+<p>"Yais—tha's nice hor-rse," said Monte.</p>
+
+<p>"Want to sell him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thees ees not my hor-rse," explained Monte. "He ees of a frien'."</p>
+
+<p>"I like his looks," said Billy. "Is your friend here? Or, if he's
+downtown, what's his name? I'd like to buy that horse."</p>
+
+<p>"He ees weetheen, but he ees not apparent. He ees
+<i>dormiendo</i>—ah—yais—esleepin'. He was las' night to the <i>baile
+mascarada</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Billy nodded. "Yes; I was there myself." He decided to take a risk:
+assuming that his calculations were correct, x must equal Bransford. So
+he said carelessly: "Let's see, Bransford went as a sailor, didn't he?
+<i>Un marinero?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no; he was atir-re' lak one—<i>que cosa?</i>—what you call thees
+theeng?—<i>un balon para jugar con los pies?</i> Ah! si, si!—one feetball!
+Myself I come soon back. I have no beesness. The bes' people ees
+all for the dance," said Monte, with hand turned up and shrugging
+shoulder. "So, <i>media noche</i>—twelve of the clock, I am here back. I
+fin' here the hor-rse of my frien', and one <i>carta</i>—letter—that I am
+not to lock the door; <i>porque</i> he may come to esleep. So I am mek to
+r-repose myself. Later I am ar-rouse when my frien' am to r-retir-re
+heemself. Ah, <i>que hombre</i>! I am yet to esmile to see heem in thees
+so r-redeeculous <i>vestidos</i>! He ees ver' gay. Ah! <i>que</i> Jeff! Een
+all ways thees ees a man ver' <i>sufficiente</i>, cour-rageous, es-trong,
+formidabble! Yet he ees keep the <i>disposicion</i>, the hear-rt, of a
+seemple leetle chil'—<i>un muchacho</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll come again," said Billy, and passed on. He had found out what he
+had come for. The absence of concealment dispelled any lingering doubt
+of Jeff Buttinski. Yet he could establish no alibi by Monte.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Billy White may require here a little explanation. All things
+considered, Billy thought Jeff would be better off in jail, with a
+friend in the opposite camp working for his interest, than getting
+himself foolishly killed by a hasty posse. If we are cynical, we may
+say that, being young, Billy was not averse to the rôle of <i>deus ex
+machina</i>; perhaps a thought of friendly gratitude was not lacking.
+Then, too, adventure for adventure's sake is motive enough—in youth.
+Or, as a final self-revelation, we may hint that if Jeff was a rival,
+so too was Lake—and one more eligible. Let us not be cynical,
+however, or cowardly. Let us say at once shamelessly what we very well
+know—that youth is the season for clean honor and high emprise; that
+boy's love is best and truest of all; that poor, honest Billy, in his
+own dogged and fantastic way, but sought to give true service where
+he—loved. There, we have said it; and we are shamed. How old are you,
+sir? Forty? Fifty? Most actions are the result of mixed motives, you
+say? Well, that is a notable concession—at your age. Let it go at
+that. Billy, then, acted from mixed motives.</p>
+
+<p>When Billy brought back his motives—and the sheriff—Monte still held
+his negligent attitude in the doorway. He waved a graceful salute.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see Bransford," said the sheriff.</p>
+
+<p>"He ees esleepin'," said Monte.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I want to see him anyway!" The sheriff laid a brusk hand on the
+gatelatch.</p>
+
+<p>Monte waved his cigarette airily, flicked the ash from the end with a
+slender finger, and once more demonstrated that the hand is quicker
+than the eye. The portentously steady gun in the hand was the first
+intimation to the eye that the hand had moved at all. It was a very
+large gun as to caliber, the sheriff noted. As it was pointed directly
+at his nose he was favorably situated to observe—looking along the
+barrel—that the hammer stood at full cock.</p>
+
+<p>"Per-rhaps you have some papers for heem?" suggested Monte, with gentle
+and delicate deference. He still leaned against the doorjamb. "But
+eef not eet ees bes' that you do not enter thees my leetle house to
+distur-rb my gues'. That would be to commeet a r-rudeness—no?"</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff was a sufficiently brave man, if not precisely a brilliant
+one. Yet he showed now intelligence of the highest order. He dropped
+the latch.</p>
+
+<p>"You Billy, stop your laughing! Do you know, Mr. Monte, I think you are
+quite right?" he observed, with a smiling politeness equal to Monte's
+own. "That would be rude, certainly. My mistake. An Englishman's house
+is his castle—that sort of thing? If you will excuse me now we will go
+and get the papers, as you so kindly pointed out."</p>
+
+<p>They went away, the sheriff, Billy and motives—Billy still laughing
+immoderately.</p>
+
+<p>Monte went inside and stirred up his guest with a prodding boot-toe.</p>
+
+<p>"Meester Jeff," he demanded, "what you been a-doin' now?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff sat up, rumpled his hair, and rubbed his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Sleepin'," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"An' before? <i>Porque</i>, the sheriff he has been. To mek an arres' of
+you, I t'eenk."</p>
+
+<p>"Me?" said Jeff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't done
+anything that I can remember now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure? No small leetle cr-rime? Not las' night? Me, I jus' got up. I
+have not hear'."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff considered this suggestion carefully. "No. I am sure. Not for
+years. Some mistake, I guess. Or maybe he just wanted to see me about
+something else. Why didn't he come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mek r-reques' of heem that he do not," said Monte.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," Jeff laughed. "Come on; we'll go see him. You don't want to
+get into trouble."</p>
+
+<p>They crossed the bridge and met the sheriff just within the
+fortifications, returning in a crowded automobile. Jeff held up his
+hand. The machine stopped and the posse deployed—except Billy, who
+acted as chauffeur.</p>
+
+<p>"You wanted to see me, sheriff—at the hotel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, if you don't mind," said the sheriff.</p>
+
+<p>"Good dinner? I ain't had breakfast yet!"</p>
+
+<p>"First-class," said the sheriff cordially. "Won't your friend come too?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, señor, you eshame me that I am not so hospitabble, ees eet not?"
+purred Monte, as he followed Jeff into the tonneau.</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff reddened and Billy choked.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of the sort," said the sheriff hastily, lapsing into
+literalness. "You were quite within your rights. For that matter, I
+know you were at your own bank, dealing, when the crime was committed.
+I am holding you for the present as a possible accessory; and, if not,
+then as a material witness. By the way, Monte, would you mind if I sent
+some men to look through your place? There is a matter of some thirty
+thousand dollars missing. Lake asked us to look for it. I have papers
+for it if you care to see them."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, señor!" said Monte. He handed over a key. "<i>La casa es suyo!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said the sheriff, with unmoved gravity. "Anything of yours
+you want 'em to bring, Bransford?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no," said Jeff cheerfully. "I've got nothing there but my saddle,
+my gun and an old football suit that belongs to 'Gene Baird, over on
+the West Side; but if you want me to stay long, I wish you'd look after
+my horse."</p>
+
+<p>"I too have lef' there my gun that I keep to protec' my leetle house,"
+observed Monte. "Tell some one to keep eet for me. I am much attach' to
+that gun."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, I have seen that gun, I think," said the sheriff. "They'll
+look out for it. All right, Billy!"</p>
+
+<p>The car turned back.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh—you were speaking about Monte being an accessory. I didn't get in
+till 'way late last night, and I've been asleep all day," said Jeff
+apologetically. "Might I ask before or after exactly what fact Monte
+was an accessory?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bank robbery, for one thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!... That would be Lake's bank? Anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff was not a patient man and he had borne much; also, he liked
+Lars Porsena. Perfection, even in trifles, is rare and wins affection.
+He turned on Jeff, with an angry growl.</p>
+
+<p>"Murder!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lake?" murmured Jeff hopefully.</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff continued, ignoring and, indeed, only half sensing the
+purport of Jeff's comment:</p>
+
+<p>"At least, the wound may not be mortal."</p>
+
+<p>"That's too bad," said Jeff. He was, if possible, more cheerful than
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff glared at him. Billy, from the front seat, threw a word of
+explanation over his shoulder. "It's not Lake. The watchman."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, old Lars Porsena? That's different. Not a bad sort, Lars. Maybe
+he'll get well. Hope so.... And I shot him? Dear me! When did it
+happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll find out soon enough!" said the sheriff grimly. "Your
+preliminary's right away."</p>
+
+<p>"Hell, I haven't had breakfast yet!" Jeff protested. "Feed us first or
+we won't be tried at all."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Within the jail, while the sheriff spoke with his warder, it occurred
+to Billy that, since Jimmy Phillips was not to be seen, he might as
+well carry his own friendly message. So he said guardedly:</p>
+
+<p>"Buck up, old man! Keep a stiff upper lip and be careful what you say.
+This is only your preliminary trial, remember. Lots of things may
+happen before court sets. The devil looks after his own, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff had a good ear for voices, however, and Billy's mustache still
+kept more than a hint of Mephistopheles. Jeff slowly surveyed Billy's
+natty attire, with a lingering and insulting interest for such
+evidences of prosperity as silken hosiery and a rather fervid scarfpin.
+At last his eye met Billy's, and Billy was blushing.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he?" drawled Jeff languidly. "Ah!... You own the car, then?"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Billy!</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the ingratitude of this rebuff, Billy sought out Jimmy
+Phillips and recounted to him the circumstances of the arrest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, naughty, naughty!" said the deputy, caressing his nose. "Lake's
+been a cowman on Rainbow. He knew the brand on that horse; he knew Jeff
+was chummy with Monte. He knew in all reason that Jeff was in there,
+and most likely he knew it all the time. So he sneaks off to see
+Lars—after shooting him from ambush, damn him!—and sends you to take
+Jeff. Looks like he might be willing for you and Jeff to damage either,
+which or both of yourselves, as the case may be."</p>
+
+<p>"It looks so," said Billy.</p>
+
+<p>"Must be a fine girl!" murmured Jimmy absently. "Well, what are you
+going to do? It looks pretty plain."</p>
+
+<p>"It looks plain to us—but we haven't got a single tangible thing
+against Lake yet. We'd be laughed out of court if we brought an
+accusation against him. We'll have to wait and keep our eyes open."</p>
+
+<p>"You're sure Lake did it? There was no rubber nosepiece at Monte's
+house. All the rest of the football outfit—but not that. That looks
+bad for Jeff."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, that is the strongest link against Lake. I dare say
+Buttinski—Mr. Bransford—is eminently capable of bank robbery at odd
+moments; but I know approximately where that noseguard was at sharp
+midnight—after the watchman was shot." Here Billy swore mentally,
+having a very definite guess as to how Jeff might have lost the
+noseguard. "Lake, Clarke, Turnbull, Thompson, Alec or myself—one of
+the six of us—brought that noseguard to the bank after the robbery,
+and only one of the six had a motive—and a key."</p>
+
+<p>"Only one of you had a key," corrected Jimmy cruelly. "But can't Jeff
+prove where he was, maybe?"</p>
+
+<p>"He won't."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd sure like to see her," said Jimmy.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE ALIBI</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"And all love's clanging trumpets shocked and blew."</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>"The executioner's argument was, that you couldn't cut off a head
+unless there was a body to cut it off from; that he had never had to
+do such a thing before, and he wasn't going to begin at <i>his</i> time of
+life."—<i>Alice in Wonderland.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>The justice of the peace, when the county court was not in session,
+held hearings in the courtroom proper, which occupied the entire second
+story of the county courthouse. The room was crowded. It was a new
+courthouse; there are people impatient to try even a new hearse; and
+this bade fair to be Arcadia's first <i>cause célèbre</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff sat in the prisoner's stall, a target for boring eyes. He was
+conscious of an undesirable situation; exactly how tight a place it was
+he had no means of knowing until he should have heard the evidence.
+The room was plainly hostile; black looks were cast upon him. Deputy
+Phillips, as he entered arm in arm with the sometime devil, gave
+the prisoner an intent but non-committal look, which Jeff rightly
+interpreted as assurance of a friend in ambush; he felt unaccountably
+sure of the devil's fraternal aid; Monte, lolling within the rail
+of the witness-box, smiled across at him. Still, he would have felt
+better for another friendly face or two, he thought—say, John Wesley
+Pringle's.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff looked from the open window. Cottonwoods, well watered, give
+swiftest growth of any trees and are therefore the dominant feature
+of new communities in dry lands. The courthouse yard was crowded with
+them: Jeff, from the window, could see nothing but their green plumes;
+and his thoughts ran naturally upon gardens—or, to be more accurate,
+upon a garden.</p>
+
+<p>Would she lose faith in him? Had she heard yet? Would he be able
+to clear himself? No mere acquittal would do. Because of Ellinor,
+there must be no question, no verdict of Not Proven. She would go
+East to-morrow. Perhaps she would not hear of his arrest at all. He
+hoped not. The bank robbery, the murder—yes, she would hear of them,
+perhaps; but why need she hear his name? Hers was a world so different!
+He fell into a muse at this.</p>
+
+<p>Deputy Phillips passed and stood close to him, looking down from the
+window. His back was to Jeff; but, under cover of the confused hum of
+many voices, he spake low from the corner of his mouth:</p>
+
+<p>"Play your hand close to your bosom, old-timer! Wait for the draw and
+watch the dealer!" He strolled over to the other side of the judicial
+bench whence he came.</p>
+
+<p>This vulgar speech betrayed Jimmy as one given to evil courses; but
+to Jeff that muttered warning was welcome as thunder of Blücher's
+squadrons to British squares at Waterloo.</p>
+
+<p>Down the aisle came a procession consciously important—the prosecuting
+attorney; the bank's lawyer, who was to assist, "for the people"; and
+Lake himself. As they passed the gate Jeff smiled his sweetest.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Wally!" Lake's name was Stephen Walter.</p>
+
+<p>Wally made no verbal response; but his undershot jaw did the steel-trap
+act and there was a triumphant glitter in his eye. He turned his broad
+back pointedly—and Jeff smiled again.</p>
+
+<p>The justice took his seat on the raised dais intervening between
+Jeff and the sheriff's desk. Court was opened. The usual tedious
+preliminaries followed. Jeff waived a jury trial, refused a lawyer and
+announced that he would call no witnesses at present.</p>
+
+<p>In an impressive stillness the prosecutor rose for his opening
+statement. Condensed, it recounted the history of the crime, so far as
+known; fixed the time by the watchman's statement—to be confirmed,
+he said, by another witness, the telephone girl on duty at that hour,
+who had heard the explosion and the ensuing gunshot; touched upon
+that watchman's faithful service and his present desperate condition.
+He told of the late finding of the injured man, the meeting in the
+bank, the sum taken by the robber, and the discovery in the bank of
+the rubber nosepiece, which he submitted as Exhibit A. He cited the
+witnesses by whom he would prove each statement, and laid special
+stress upon the fact that the witness Clarke would testify that the
+nosepiece had been found upon the shattered fragments of the safe
+door—conclusive proof that it had been dropped after the crime. And
+he then held forth at some length upon the hand of Providence, as
+manifested in the unconscious self-betrayal which had frustrated and
+brought to naught the prisoner's fiendish designs. On the whole, he
+spoke well of Providence.</p>
+
+<p>Now Jeff had not once thought of the discarded noseguard since he first
+found it in his way; he began to see how tightly the net was drawn
+round him. "There was a serpent in the garden," he reflected. A word
+from Miss Hoffman would set him free. If she gave that word at once,
+it would be unpleasant for her: but if she gave it later, as a last
+resort, it would be more than unpleasant. And in that same hurried
+moment, Jeff knew that he would not call upon her for that word. All
+his crowded life, he had kept the happy knack of falling on his feet:
+the stars, that fought in their courses against Sisera, had ever fought
+for reckless Bransford. He decided, with lovable folly, to trust to
+chance, to his wits and to his friends.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, Your Honor, we come to the unbreakable chain of evidence
+which fatally links the prisoner at the bar to this crime. We will
+prove that the prisoner was not invited to the masquerade ball given
+last night by Mr. Lake. We will prove——"</p>
+
+<p>There was a stir in the courtroom; the prosecutor paused, disconcerted.
+Eyes were turned to the double door at the back of the courtroom. In
+the entryway at the head of the stairs huddled a group of shrinking
+girls. Before them, one foot upon the threshold, stood Ellinor
+Hoffman. She shook off a detaining hand and stepped into the room,
+head erect, proud, pale. Across the sea of curious faces her eyes met
+the prisoner's. Of all the courtroom, Billy and Deputy Phillips alone
+turned then to watch Jeff's face. They saw an almost imperceptible
+shake of his head, a finger on lip, a reassuring gesture—saw, too, the
+quick pulsebeat at his throat.</p>
+
+<p>The color flooded back to Ellinor's face. Men nearest the door
+were swift to bring chairs. The prosecutor resumed his interrupted
+speech—his voice was deep, hard, vibrant.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Honor, the counts against this man are fairly damning! We will
+prove that he was shaved in a barber shop in Arcadia at ten o'clock
+last night; that he then rode a roan horse; that the horse was then
+sweating profusely; that this horse was afterward found at the house
+of—but we will take that up later. We will prove by many witnesses
+that among the masqueraders was a man wearing a football suit, wearing
+a nosepiece similar—entirely similar—to the one found in the bank,
+which now lies before you. We will prove that this football player was
+not seen in the ballroom after the hour of eleven P.M. We will prove
+that when he was next seen, without the ballroom, it was not until
+sufficient time had elapsed for him to have committed this awful crime."</p>
+
+<p>Ellinor half rose from her seat; again Jeff flashed a warning at her.</p>
+
+<p>"We will prove this, Your Honor, by a most unwilling witness—Rosalio
+Marquez"—Monte smiled across at Jeff—"a friend of the prisoner, who,
+in his behalf, has not scrupled to defy the majesty of the law! We can
+prove by this witness, this reluctant witness, that when he returned to
+his home, shortly after midnight, he found there the prisoner's horse,
+which had not been there when Mr. Marquez left the house some four
+hours previously: and that, at some time subsequent to twelve o'clock,
+the witness Marquez was wakened by the entrance of the prisoner at the
+bar, clad in a football suit, but wearing no nosepiece with it! And we
+have the evidence of the sheriff's posse that they found in the home
+of the witness, Rosalio Marquez, the football suit—which we offer as
+Exhibit B. Nay, more! The prisoner did not deny, and indeed admitted,
+that this uniform was his; but—mark this!—the searching party found
+no nosepiece there!</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, Your Honor, that the stolen money was not found upon the
+prisoner; it is true that the prisoner made no use of the opportunity
+to escape offered him by his lawless and disreputable friend, Rosalio
+Marquez—a common gambler! Doubtless, Your Honor, his cunning had
+devised some diabolical plan upon which he relied to absolve himself
+from suspicion; and now, trembling, he has for the first time learned
+of the fatal flaw in his concocted defense, which he had so fondly
+deemed invincible!"</p>
+
+<p>All eyes, including the orator's, here turned upon the prisoner—to
+find him, so far from trembling, quite otherwise engaged. The
+prisoner's elbow was upon the rail, his chin in his hand; he regarded
+Mr. Lake attentively, with cheerful amusement and a quizzical smile
+which in some way subtly carried an expression of mockery and malicious
+triumph. To this fixed and disconcerting regard Mr. Lake opposed an
+iron front, but the effort required was apparent to all.</p>
+
+<p>There was an uneasy rustling through the court. The prisoner's bearing
+was convincing, natural; this was no mere brazen assuming. The
+banker's forced composure was not natural! He should have been an angry
+banker. Of the two men, Lake was the less at ease. The prisoner's face
+turned at last toward the door. Blank unrecognition was in his eyes as
+they swept past Ellinor, but he shook his head once more, very slightly.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sense of mystery in the air—a buzz and burr of whispers; a
+rustle of moving feet. The audience noticeably relaxed its implacable
+attitude toward the accused, eyed him with a different interest, seemed
+to feel for the first time that, after all, he was accused merely,
+and that his defense had not yet been heard. The prosecutor felt this
+subtle change; it lamed his periods.</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, Your Honor, that no eye save God's saw this guilty man do
+this deed; but the web of circumstantial evidence is so closely drawn,
+so far-reaching, so unanswerable, so damning, that no defense can avail
+him except the improbable, the impossible establishment of an alibi so
+complete, so convincing, as to satisfy even his bitterest enemy! We
+will ask you, Your Honor, when you have seen how fully the evidence
+bears out our every contention, to commit the prisoner, without bail,
+to answer the charge of robbery and attempted murder!"</p>
+
+<p>Then, by the door, Jeff saw the girl start up. She swept down the
+aisle, radiant, brave, unfearing, resolute, all half-gods gone; she
+shone at him—proud, glowing, triumphant!</p>
+
+<p>A hush fell upon the thrilled room. Jeff was on his feet, his hand held
+out to stay her; his eyes spoke to hers. She stopped as at a command.
+Scarcely slower, Billy was at her side. "Wait! Wait!" he whispered.
+"See what he has to say. There will be always time for that." Jeff's
+eyes held hers; she sank into an offered chair.</p>
+
+<p>Cheated, disappointed, the court took breath again. Their dramatic
+moment had been nothing but their own nerves; their own excited
+imaginings had attached a pulse-fluttering significance to the flushed
+cheeks of a prying girl, seeking a better place to see and hear, to
+gratify her morbid curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff turned to the bench.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Honor, I have a perfectly good line of defense; and I trust no
+friend of mine will undertake to change it. I will keep you but a
+minute," he said colloquially. "I will not waste your time combating
+the ingenious theory which the prosecution has built up, or in
+cross-examination of their witnesses, who, I feel sure"—here he bowed
+to the cloud of witnesses—"will testify only to the truth. I quite
+agree with my learned friend"—another graceful bow—"that the case
+he has so ably presented is so strong that it can successfully be
+rebutted only by an alibi so clear and so incontestable, as my learned
+friend has so aptly phrased it, as to convince if not satisfy ... my
+bitterest enemy!" The bow, the subtle, icy intonation, edged the words.
+The courtroom thrilled again at the unspoken thought: "<i>An enemy hath
+done this thing!</i>" If, in the stillness, the prisoner had quoted the
+words aloud in fierce denunciation, the effect could not have been
+different or more startling. "And that, Your Honor, is precisely what I
+propose to do!"</p>
+
+<p>His Honor was puzzled. He was a good judge of men; and the prisoner's
+face was not a bad face.</p>
+
+<p>"But," he objected, "you have refused to call any witnesses for the
+defense. Your unsupported word will count for nothing. You cannot prove
+an alibi alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't I?" said Jeff. "Watch me!"</p>
+
+<p>With a single motion he was through the open window. Bending branches
+of the nearest cottonwood broke his fall—the other trees hid his
+flight.</p>
+
+<p>Behind him rose uproar, tumult and hullabaloo, a mass of struggling men
+at cross purposes. Gun in hand, the sheriff, stumbling over some one's
+foot—Monte's—ran to the window; but the faithful deputy was before
+him, blocking the way, firing with loving care—at one particular
+tree-trunk. He was a good shot, Jimmy. He afterward showed with pride
+where each ball had struck in a scant six-inch space. Vainly the
+sheriff tried to force his way through. There was but one stairway, and
+it was jammed. Before the foremost pursuer had reached the open Jeff
+had borrowed one of the saddled horses hitched at the rack and was away
+to the hills.</p>
+
+<p>As Billy struggled through the press, searching for Ellinor, he found
+himself at Jimmy's elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"A dead game sport—any turn in the road!" agreed Billy.</p>
+
+<p>The deputy nodded curtly; but his answer was inconsequent:</p>
+
+<p>"Rather in the brunette line—that bit of tangible evidence!"</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE NETTLE, DANGER</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Bushel o' wheat, bushel o' rye—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">All 'at ain't ready, holler 'I'!"</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>Hide and Seek.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Double Mountain lies lost in the desert, dwarfed by the greatness all
+about. Its form is that of a crater split from north to south into
+irregular halves. Through that narrow cleft ran a straight road, once
+the well-traveled thoroughfare from Rainbow to El Paso. For there was
+precious water within those up-heaved walls; it was but three miles
+from portal to portal; the slight climb to the divide had not been
+grudged. Time was when campfires were nightly merry to light the narrow
+cliffs of Double Mountain; when songs were gay to echo from them; when
+this had been the only watering place to break the long span across the
+desert. The railroad had changed all this, and the silent leagues of
+that old road lay untrodden in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>Not untrodden on this the day after Jeff had established his alibi. A
+traveler followed that lonely road to Double Mountain; and behind,
+half-way to Rainbow Range, was a streak of dust; which gained on him.
+The traveler's sorrel horse was weary, for it was the very horse Jeff
+Bransford had borrowed from the hitching-rail of the courthouse square;
+the traveler was that able negotiator himself; and the pursuing dust,
+to the best of Jeff's knowledge and belief, meant him no good tidings.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I got safe away from the foothills before day," soliloquized
+Jeff. "Some gentleman has overtaken me with a spyglass, I reckon.
+Civilization's getting this country plumb ruined! And their horses are
+fresh. Peg along, Alibi! Maybe I can pick up a stray horse at Double
+Mountain. If I can't there's no sort of use trying to get away on you!
+I'll play hide-and-go-seek-'em. That'll let you out, anyway, so cheer
+up! You done fine, old man! If I ever get out of this I'll buy you and
+make it all right with you. Pension you off if you think you'll like
+it. Get along now!"</p>
+
+<p>Twenty miles to Jeff's right the railroad paralleled the wagonroad in
+an unbroken tangent of ninety miles' stretch. A southbound passenger
+train crawled along the west like a resolute centipede plodding to
+a date: behind the fugitive, abreast, now far ahead, creeping along
+the shining straightaway. Forty miles the hour was her schedule; yet
+against this vast horizon she could hardly be said to change place
+until, sighting beyond her puny length, a new angle of the far western
+wall completed the trinomial line.</p>
+
+<p>Escondido was hidden in a dip of plain—whence the name, Hidden, when
+done into Saxon speech. The train was lost to sight when she stopped
+there, but Jeff saw the tiny steam plume of her whistling rise in the
+clear and taintless air; long after, the faint sound of it hummed
+drowsily by, like passing, far-blown horns of faerie in a dream. And,
+at no great interval thereafter, a low-lying dust appeared suddenly on
+the hither rim of Escondido's sunken valley.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff knew the land as you know your hallway. That line of dust marked
+the trail from Escondido Valley to the farther gate of Double Mountain.
+Even if he should be lucky enough to get a change of mounts at the
+spring in Double Mountain Basin he would be intercepted. Escape by
+flight was impossible. To fight his way out was impossible. He had no
+gun; and, even if he had a gun, he could not see his way to fight,
+under the circumstances. The men who hunted him down were only doing
+the right thing as they saw it. Had Jeff been guilty, it would have
+been a different affair. Being innocent, he could make no fight for it.
+He was cornered.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Said the little Eohippus:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">'I'm going to be a horse!'"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>So chanted Jeff, perceiving the hopelessness of his plight.</p>
+
+<p>The best gift to man—or, if not the best, then at least the rarest—is
+the power to meet the emergency: to do your best and a little better
+than your best when nothing less will serve: to be a pinch hitter.
+It is to be thought that certain stages of affection, and more
+particularly the presence of its object, affect unfavorably the
+workings of pure intellect. Certain it is that capable Bransford, who
+had cut so sorry a figure in Eden garden, now, in these distressing but
+Eveless circumstances, rose to the occasion. Collected, resourceful,
+he grasped every possible angle of the situation and, with the rope
+virtually about his neck, cheerfully planned the impossible—the
+essence of his elastic plan being to climb that very rope, hand over
+hand, to safety.</p>
+
+<p>"Going round the mountain is no good on a give-out horse. They'll
+follow my tracks," said Jeff to Jeff. Men who are much alone so shape
+their thoughts by voicing them, just as you practice conversation
+rather to make your own thought clear to yourself than to enlighten
+your victim—beg pardon—your neighbor. Just a slip of the tongue.
+<i>Vecino</i> is the Spanish for neighbor, you know. Not so much to
+enlighten your neighbor as to find out for yourself precisely what it
+is you think. "Hiding in the Basin is no good. Can't get out. Would I
+were a bird! Only one way. Got to go straight up—disappear—vanish in
+the air. 'Up a chimney, up——' Naw, that's backward! 'Up a chimney,
+down, or down a chimney, down; but not up a chimney, up, nor down a
+chimney, up!' So that's settled! Now let me see, says the little man.
+Mighty few Arcadians know me well enough not to be fooled—mebbe so.
+Lake? Lake won't come. He'll be busy. There's Jimmy; but Jimmy's got a
+shocking bad memory for faces sometimes, just now, my face. I think,
+maybe, I could manage Jimmy. The sheriff? That would be real awkward,
+I reckon. I'll just play the sheriff isn't in the bunch and build my
+little bluff according to that pleasing fancy; for if he comes along it
+is all off with little Jeff!</p>
+
+<p>"Now lemme see! If Gwin's working that little old mine of his—why,
+he'll lie himself black in the face just for the principle of it.
+Mighty interestin' talker, Gwin is. And if no one's there, I'll
+be there. Not Jeff Bransford; he got away. I'll be Long—Tobe
+Long—working for Gwin. Tobe Long. I apprenticed my son to a miner, and
+the first thing he took was a new name!"</p>
+
+<p>Far away on the side of Double Mountain he could even now see the white
+triangle of the tent at Gwin's mine—the Ophir—and the gray dump
+spilling down the hillside. There was no smoke to be seen. Jeff made
+up his mind there was no one at the mine—which was what he devoutly
+hoped—and further developed his gleeful hypothesis.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's see now, Tobe. Got to study this all out. They most always leave
+all their kegs full of water when they go away, so they won't have to
+pack 'em up the first thing when they come back. If they did, I'm all
+right. If they didn't, I'm in a hell of a fix! They'll leave 'em full,
+though. Of course they did—else the kegs would all dry up and fall
+down." He glanced over his shoulder. "Them fellows are ten or twelve
+miles back, I reckon. They'll slow up so soon as they see I'm headed
+off. I'll have time to fix things up—if only there's water in the kegs
+at the mine!" He patted Alibi's head: "Now, old man, do your damnedest!
+It's pretty tough on you, but your part will soon be over."</p>
+
+<p>Alibi had made a poor night of it, what with doubling and twisting in
+the foothills, the bitter water of a gyp spring, and the scanty grass
+of a cedar thicket; but he did his plucky best. On the legal other
+hand, as Jeff had prophesied, the dustmakers behind had slackened their
+gait when they perceived, by the dust of Escondido trail, that their
+allies must cut the quarry off. So Alibi held his own with the pursuit.</p>
+
+<p>He came to the rising ground leading to the sheer base of Double
+Mountain; then to the narrow Gap where the mountain had fallen asunder
+in some age-old catacylsm. To the left, the dump of Ophir Mine hung on
+the hillside above the pass; and on the broad trail zigzagging up to it
+were burro-tracks, but no fresh tracks of men. The flaps of the white
+tent on the dump were tightly closed. There was no one at the mine.
+Jeff passed within the walls, through frowning gates of porphyry and
+gneiss, and urged Alibi up the cañon. It was half a mile to the spring.
+On the way he found three shaggy burros grazing beside the road. He
+drove them into the small pen by the spring and tossed his rope on the
+largest one. Then he unsaddled Alibi, tied hint to the fence by the
+bridle rein, and searched his pockets for an old letter. This found, he
+penciled a note and tied it to the saddle. It was brief:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p><span class="smcap">En Route, Four p.m.</span></p>
+
+<p>Please water my horse when he cools off.</p>
+
+<p class="ph2">Your little friend,<br>
+<span class="smcap">Jeff Bransford</span>.</p>
+
+
+<p>P. S. Excuse haste.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>He made a plain trail of high-heeled boot-tracks to the spring, where
+he drank deep; thence beyond, through the sandy soil, to the nearest
+rocky ridge. Then, careful that every step fell on a bare rock, he came
+circuitously back to the corral, climbed the fence, made his way to the
+tied burro, improvised a bridle of cunning half-hitches, slipped from
+the fence to the burro's back—a burro, by the way, is a donkey—named
+the burro anew as Balaam, and went back down the cañon at the best
+pace of which the belabored and astonished Balaam was capable. As
+Jeff had hoped, the two other burros—or the other two burros, to be
+precise—followed sociably, braying remonstrance.</p>
+
+<p>Without the mouth of the cañon Jeff rode up the steep trail to the
+mine, also to the great disgust of his mount; but he must not walk—it
+would leave boot-tracks. For the same reason, after freeing Balaam, his
+first action was to pull off the telltale boots and replace them with
+the smallest pair of hobnailed miner's shoes in the tent. With these he
+carefully obliterated the few boot-tracks at the tent door.</p>
+
+<p>The water-kegs were full; Jeff swore his joyful gratitude and turned
+his eye to the plain. The pursuing dust was still far away—seven
+miles, he estimated, or possibly eight. The three burros nibbled on
+the bushes below the dump; plainly intending to stay round camp with
+an eye for possible tips. Jeff gave his whole-hearted attention to the
+<i>mise-en-scène</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Never did stage manager toil so hard, so faithfully, so effectively as
+this one—or with so great a need. He took stock of the available stage
+properties, beginning with a careful inventory of the grub-chest. To
+betray ignorance of its possibilities or deficiencies would be fatal.
+Following a narrow trail round a little shoulder of hill, he found the
+powder magazine. Taking three sticks of dynamite, with fuse and caps,
+he searched the tent for the candle-box, lit a candle and went into the
+tunnel with a brisk trot. "If this was a case of fight, now, I'd have
+some pretty fair weapons here for close quarters," said Jeff; "but the
+way I'm fixed I can't. No fighting goes—unless Lake comes."</p>
+
+<p>In the tunnel his luck held good. He found a number of good-sized
+chunks of rock stacked along the wall near the breast—evidently
+reserved for the ore pile at a more convenient season. Beneath three of
+the largest of these rocks he carefully adjusted the three sticks of
+giant powder, properly capped and fused, lit the fuses and retreated
+to the safety of the dump. Three muffled detonations followed at short
+intervals. Having thus announced the presence of mining operations, he
+built a fire on the kitchen side of the dump to further advertise a
+mind conscious of its own rectitude. The pleasant shadow of the hills
+was cool about him; the flame rose clear and bright in the windless
+air, to be seen from far away.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at the location papers in the monument by the ore stack;
+simultaneously, by way of economizing time, emptying a can of salmon.
+This was partly for the added verisimilitude of the empty tin, partly
+because he was ravenously hungry. You may guess how he emptied the tin.</p>
+
+<p>The mine had changed owners since Jeff's knowledge of it. It was no
+longer Gwin's sole property. The notice bore the signatures of J. Gwin,
+C. W. Sanders and Walter Fleck. Jeff grinned and his eye brightened. He
+knew Fleck only slightly; but Fleck's reputation among the cowmen was
+good—that is to say, as you would see it, very bad.</p>
+
+<p>Pappy Sanders, postmaster and storekeeper of Escondido, was an old and
+sorely tried friend of Jeff's. If Pappy had grub-staked the outfit——A
+far-away plan began to shape vaguely in his fertile brain. He took the
+little turquoise horse from his pocket and laid it in the till of the
+violated trunk. Were you told about the violated trunk? Never mind—he
+had done any amount of other things of which you have not been told;
+for it was his task, in the brief time allotted to him, to master all
+the innumerable details needful for an intelligent reading of his part.
+He must make no blunders.</p>
+
+<p>He toiled like two men, each swifter and more savagely efficient than
+himself; he upset the prim, old he-maidenish order of that carefully
+packed, spick-and-span camp; he rumpled the beds; strewed old clothes,
+books, candles, specimens, pipes and cigarette papers with lavish hand;
+made untidy, sprawling heaps of tin plates; knives, forks and spoons;
+spilled candle-grease and tobacco on the scoured table; and generally
+gave things a cozy and habitable appearance.</p>
+
+<p>He gave a hundred deft touches here and there. He spread an open book
+face downward on the table. (It was "Alice in Wonderland," and he
+opened it at the Mock-Turtle.) Meanwhile an unoccupied eye snatched
+titles from a shelf of books against possible question; he penned a
+short note to himself—Mr. Tobe Long—in Gwin's handwriting, folded the
+note to creases, twisted it to a spill, lit it, burned a corner of it,
+pinched it out and threw it under the table; and, while doing these
+and other things, he somehow managed to shed every article of Jeff
+Bransford's clothing and to put on the work-stained garments of a miner.</p>
+
+<p>The perspiration on his face was no stage make-up, but good, honest
+sweat. He rubbed stone-dust and sand on his sweaty arms and into his
+sweaty hair; he rubbed most of it from his hair and into the two-days'
+stubble on his face, simultaneously fishing razor and mug from the
+trunk, leaving them in evidence on the table. He worked stone-dust
+into his ears, behind his ears; he grimed it on forehead and neck; he
+even dropped a little into his shoes, which all this while had been
+performing independent miracles to make the camp look comfortable. He
+threw on a dingy cap, thrust in the cap a miner's candlestick, with a
+lighted candle, that it might properly drip upon him while he arranged
+further details—and so faced the world as Tobe Long, a stooped and
+overworked man!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tobe Long, working with feverish haste, dug a small cave half-way
+down the steep side of the dump farthest from the road and buried
+therein a tightly rolled bundle containing every article appertaining
+to the defunct Bransford, with the single exception of the little
+eohippus; a pocketknife, which a miner must have to cut powder and
+fuse, having been found in the trunk—what time also the little
+turquoise horse was transferred to Mr. Long's pocket to bring him luck
+in his new career—a poor thing compared with the cowman's keen blade,
+but better for Mr. Long's purposes, as smelling strongly of dynamite.
+Then Mr. Long—Tobe—hid the grave by sliding and shoveling broken rock
+down the dump upon it.</p>
+
+<p>Next he threw into a wheelbarrow drills, spoon, tamping stick, gads,
+drill-hammer, rock-hammer, canteen, shovel and pick—taking care, even
+in his haste, to select a properly matched set of drills—and trundled
+the barrow up the drift at a pace which would give a Miners' Union the
+rabies. At the breast, he unshipped his cargo in right miner's fashion,
+the drills in a graduated stepladder row along the wall; loaded the
+barrow with broken ore, a bit of charred fuse showing at the top, and
+wheeled it out at the same unprofessional gait, leaving it on the dump
+just above the spot where his late sepulchral rites had freshened the
+appearance of the sunbeaten dump.</p>
+
+<p>He next performed his ablutions in an amateurish and perfunctory
+fashion, scrupulously observing a well-defined waterline.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" said Mr. Long. "I near made a break that time!" He went back
+to the barrow and trundled it assiduously to the tunnel's mouth and
+back several times, carefully never in quite the same place—finally
+leaving it not above the sepulchered spoil, but near the ore stack,
+as befitted its valuable contents. "I got to think of everything.
+One wrong break'll fix me good!" said Mr. Long. He felt his neck
+delicately, as if he detected some foreign presence there. "In the
+tunnel, now, there's only the one place where the wheel can go; so it
+don't matter so much in there."</p>
+
+<p>The fire having now burned down to proper coals, Mr. Long set about
+supper; with the corner of his eye on the lookout for the pursuers of
+the late Bransford. He set the coffee-pot by the fire—they were now
+in the edge of the tar-brush; there were only two of them. He put on a
+pot of potatoes in their jackets—he could see them plainly, diminutive
+black horsemen twinkling through the brush; he sliced bacon into a
+frying-pan and put it aside to await his cue; he disposed other cooking
+ware in lifelike attitudes near the fire—they were in the long
+shadow of Double Mountain; their horses were jaded; they rode slowly.
+He dropped the sour-dough jar and placed the broken pieces where they
+would be inconspicuously visible. Having thus a perfectly obvious
+excuse for not having sour-dough bread, which requires thirty-six hours
+of running start for preliminary rising, Jeff—Mr. Tobe Long—mixed up
+a just-as-good baking-powder substitute—they rode like young men; they
+rode like young men not to the saddle born, and Tobe permitted himself
+a chuckle: "By hooky, I've got an even chance for my little bluff!"</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head reprovingly at himself for this last admission. With
+every minute he looked more like Tobe Long than ever—if only there had
+been any Tobe Long to look like. His mind ran upon nuggets, pockets,
+placers, faults, true fissure veins, the cyanide process, concentrates,
+chlorides, sulphides, assays, leases and bonds; his face took on the
+strained wistfulness which marks the confirmed prospector: he <i>was</i>
+Tobe Long!</p>
+
+<p>The bell rang.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>The Dictionary.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>"Ho-o-e-ee! Hello-o!"</p>
+
+<p>As the curtain rose to the flying echoes Long stepped to the edge of
+the dump, frying-pan in hand, and sent back an answering shout in the
+startled high note of a lonely man taken unawares.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello-o!" He brandished his hospitable pan. Then he put it down,
+cupped hands to mouth and trumpeted a hearty welcome: "Chuck! Come up!
+Supper's ready!"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't! See any one go by about two hours ago?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hey? Louder!"</p>
+
+<p>"See a man on a sorrel horse?"</p>
+
+<p>"No-o! I been in the tunnel. Come up!"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't. We're after an outlaw!"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"After a murderer!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute! I'll be down. Too hard to yell so far."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long started precipitately down the zig-zag; but the riders had got
+all the information of interest that Mr. Long could furnish and they
+were eager to be in at the death.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't wait! He's inside the mountain, somewheres. Some of the boys are
+waiting for him at the other end." They rode on.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long posed for a statue of Disappointment, hung on the steep trail
+rather as if he might conclude to coil himself into a ball and roll
+down the hill to overtake them.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop as you come back!" he bellowed. "Want to hear about it."</p>
+
+<p>Did Jeff—Mr. Long—did Mr. Long now attempt to escape? Not so. Gifted
+with prevision beyond most, Mr. Long's mind misgave him that these
+young men would be baffled in their pleasing expectations. They would
+be back before sundown, very cross; and a miner's brogan leaves a track
+not to be missed.</p>
+
+<p>That Mr. Long was unfeignedly fatigued from the varied efforts of the
+day need not be mentioned, for that alone would not have stayed his
+flight; but the nearest water, save Escondido, was thirty-five miles;
+and at Escondido he would be watched for—not to say that, when he was
+missed, some of the searching party would straightway go to Escondido
+to frustrate him. Present escape was not to be thought of.</p>
+
+<p>Instead, Mr. Long made a hearty meal from the simple viands that had
+been in course of preparation when he was surprised, eked out by
+canned corn fried in bacon grease to a crisp, golden brown. Then,
+after a cigarette, he betook himself to sharpening tools with laudable
+industry. The tools were already sharp, but that did not stop Mr. Long.
+He built a fire in the forge, set up a stepladder of matched drills in
+the blackened water of the tempering tub; he thrust a gad and one short
+drill into the fire. When the gad was at a good cherry heat he thrust
+it hissing into the tub to bring the water to a convincing temperature;
+and when reheated he did it again. From time to time he held the one
+drill to the anvil and shaped it, drawing it alternately to a chisel
+bit or a bull bit. Mr. Long could sharpen a drill with any, having
+been, in very truth, a miner of sorts—he could toy thus with one drill
+without giving it any very careful attention, and his thoughts were now
+busy on how best to be Mr. Long.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly from time to time he added an artistic touch to Mr.
+Long—grime under his finger-nails, a smudge of smut on an eyebrow.
+His hands displeased him. After some experimenting to get the proper
+heat of it he grasped the partially cooled gad with the drill-pincers
+and held it very lightly to a favored few of those portions of the
+hand known to chiromaniacs as the mounts of Jupiter, Saturn and other
+extinct immortals.</p>
+
+<p>Satisfactory blisters-while-you-wait were thus obtained. These were
+pricked with a pin; some were torn to tatters, with dust and coal
+rubbed in to give them a venerable appearance. The pain was no light
+matter; but Mr. Long had a real affection for Mr. Bransford's neck, and
+it is trifles like these that make perfection.</p>
+
+<p>The next expedient was even more heroic. Mr. Long assiduously put
+stone-dust in one eye, leaving it tearful, bloodshot and violently
+inflamed; and the other one was sympathetically red. "Bit o' steel in
+my eye," explained Mr. Long. Unselfish devotion such as this is all too
+rare.</p>
+
+<p>All this while, at proper intervals, Mr. Long sharpened and resharpened
+that one long-suffering drill. He tripped into the tunnel and smote a
+mighty blow upon the country rock with a pick—therefore qualifying
+that pick for repointing—and laid it on the forge as next on the list.</p>
+
+<p>What further outrage he meditated is not known, for he now heard a
+horse coming up the trail. He was beating out a merry tattoo when a
+white-hatted head rose through a trapdoor—rose above the level of the
+dump, rather.</p>
+
+<p>Hammer in hand, Long straightened up joyfully as best he could, but
+could not straighten up the telltale droop of his shoulders. It was not
+altogether assumed, either, this hump. Jeff—Mr. Long—had not done so
+much work of this sort for years and there was a very real pain between
+his shoulderblades. Still, but for the exigencies of art, he might have
+borne his neck less turtlewise than he did.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello! Get him? Where's your pardner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Watching the gap." The young man, rather breathless from the climb,
+answered the last question first as he led his horse on the dump. "No,
+we didn't get him; but he can't get away. Hiding somewhere in the Basin
+afoot. Found his horse. Pretty well done up." The insolence of the
+outlaw's letter smote him afresh; he reddened. "No tracks going out of
+the Basin. Two of our friends guarding the other end. They say he can't
+get out over the cliffs anywhere. That so?" The speech came jerkily; he
+was still short of breath from his scramble.</p>
+
+<p>"Not without a flying machine," said Long. "No way out that I know of,
+except where the wagonroad goes. What's he done?"</p>
+
+<p>"Robbery! Murder! We'll see that he don't get out by the wagonroad,"
+asserted the youth confidently. "Watch the gaps and starve him out!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, speaking of starving," said Tobe, "go into the tent and I'll bring
+you some supper while you tell me about it. Baked up another batch of
+bread on the chance you'd come back."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, thank you very much, Mr.——"</p>
+
+<p>"Long—Tobe Long."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Long. My name is Gurdon Steele. Glad to meet you. Why, if you will
+be so kind—that is what I came up to see you about. If you can let us
+have what we need of course we will pay you for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you won't!" It had not needed the offer to place Mr. Gurdon
+Steele quite accurately. He was a handsome lad, fresh-complexioned,
+dressed in the Western manner as practised on the Boardwalk. "You're
+welcome to what I got, sure; but I ain't got much variety. Gwin, the
+old liar, said he was coming out the twentieth—and sure enough he
+didn't; so the grub's running low. Table in the tent—come on!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I couldn't, you know! Rex—that's my partner—is quite as
+hungry as I am, you see; but if you could give me something—anything
+you have—to take down there? I really couldn't, you know!" The
+admirable doctrine of <i>noblesse oblige</i> in its delicate application by
+this politeness, was easier for its practitioner than to put it into
+words suited to the comprehension of his hearer; he concluded lamely:
+"I'll take it down there and we will eat it together."</p>
+
+<p>"See here," said Tobe, "I'm as hungry to hear about your outlaw as
+you are to eat. I'll just throw my bedding and a lot of chuck on your
+saddle. We'll carry the coffee-pot and frying-pan in our hands—and
+the sugar-can and things like that. You can tank up and give me the
+news in small chunks at the same time. Afterward two of us can sleep
+while one stands guard."</p>
+
+<p>This was done. It was growing dark when they reached the bottom of the
+hill. The third guardsman had built a fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Rex, this is Mr. Long, who has been kind enough to grubstake us and
+share our watch with us."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Steele, you have observed, had accepted Mr. Long without
+question; but his first impression of Mr. Long had been gained under
+circumstances highly favorable to the designs of the latter gentleman.
+Mr. Steele had come upon him unexpectedly, finding him as it were
+<i>in medias res</i>, with all his skillfully arranged scenery to aid the
+illusion. The case was now otherwise—the thousand-tongued vouching
+of his background lacked to him; Mr. Long had naught save his own
+unthinkable audacity to belie his face withal. From the first instant
+Mr. Rex Griffith was the prey of suspicions—acute, bigoted, churlish,
+deep, dark, distrustful, damnable, and so on down to zealous. He had a
+sharp eye; he wore no puttees; and Mr. Long had a vaguely uncomfortable
+memory, holding over from some previous incarnation, of having seen
+that long, shrewd face in a courtroom.</p>
+
+<p>The host, on hospitable rites intent, likewise all ears and eager
+questionings, was all unconscious of hostile surveillance. Nothing
+could be more carefree, more at ease than his bearing; his pleasant
+anticipatory excitement was the natural outlook for a lonely and
+newsless man. As the hart panteth for the water, so he thirsted for
+the story; but his impatient, hasty questions, following false scents,
+delayed the telling of the Arcadian tale. So innocent was he, so open
+and aboveboard, that Griffith, watching, alert, felt thoroughly ashamed
+of himself. Yet he watched, doubting still, though his reason rebelled
+at the monstrous imaginings of his heart. That the outlaw, unarmed and
+unasked, should venture—Pshaw! Such effrontery was inconceivable.
+He allowed Steele to tell the story, himself contributing only an
+occasional crafty question designed to enable his host to betray
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Bransford?" interrupted Mr. Long. "Not Jeff Bransford—up South
+Rainbow way?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the man," said Steele.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe it," said Long flatly. He was sipping coffee with his
+guests; he put his cup down. "I know him, a little. He don't——"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there's no doubt of it!" interrupted Steele in his turn. He
+detailed the circumstances with skilful care. "Besides, why did he run
+away? Gee! You ought to have seen that escape! It was splendid!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, who'd 'a' thought that?" demanded Long, still only half
+convinced. "He didn't strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you
+never can tell! How come you fellows to be chasin' him?"</p>
+
+<p>"You see," said Steele, "every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow.
+The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but we
+four—Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us,
+you know—we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were out
+early—sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me—and we had a
+spyglass. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between two
+hills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding a
+sorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. We
+didn't suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried to
+pick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid the
+ridges—keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after him
+pell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not to
+make a dust—that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out."</p>
+
+<p>"You're not deputies, then?" said Long.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, not at all!" said Steele, secretly flattered. "So Harlow and
+Stone galloped off to town. The program was that they'd wire down to
+Escondido to have horses ready for them, come down on Number Six and
+head him off. They were not to tell any one in Arcadia. There's five
+thousand dollars' reward out for him—but it isn't that exactly. It was
+a cowardly, beastly murder, don't you know; and we thought it would be
+rather a big thing if we could take him alone."</p>
+
+<p>"You got him penned all right," said Tobe. "He can't get out, so far
+as I know, unless he runs over us or the men at the other end. By
+George, we must get away from this fire, too!" He set the example,
+dragging the bedding with him to the shelter of a big rock. "He could
+pick us off too slick here in the light. How're you going to get him?
+There's a heap of country in that Basin, all rough and broken, full o'
+boulders—mighty good cover."</p>
+
+<p>"Starve him out!" said Griffith. This was base deceit. Deep in his
+heart he believed that the quarry sat beside him, well fed and
+contented. Yet the unthinkable insolence of it—if this were indeed
+Bransford—dulled his belief.</p>
+
+<p>Long laughed as he spread down the bed. "He'll shoot a deer. Maybe, if
+he had it all planned out, he may have grub cached in there somewhere.
+There's watertanks in the rocks. Say, what are your pardners at the
+other side going to do for grub?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they brought out cheese and crackers and stuff," said Gurd.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what, boys, you've bit off more than you can chaw,"
+said Jeff—Tobe, that is. "He can't get out without a fight—but, then,
+you can't go in there to hunt for him without weakening your guard;
+and he'd be under shelter and have all the best of it. He'd shoot you
+so dead you'd never know what happened. I don't want none of it! I'd
+as lief put on boxing gloves and crawl into a hole after a bear! Look
+here, now, this is your show; but I'm a heap older'n you boys. Want to
+know what I think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," said Rex.</p>
+
+<p>"Goin' to talk turkey to me?" An avaricious light came into Long's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course; you're in on the reward," said Rex diffidently and rather
+stiffly. "We are not in this for the money."</p>
+
+<p>"I can use the money—whatever share you want to give me," said Long
+dryly; "but if you take my advice my share won't be but a little. I
+think you ought to keep under shelter at the mouth of this cañon—one
+of you—and let the other one go to Escondido and send for help, quick,
+and a lot of it."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with you going?" asked Griffith disingenuously. He
+wanted Long to show his hand. It would never do to abandon the siege
+of Double Mountain to arrest this <i>soi-disant</i> Long on mere suspicion.
+On the other hand, Mr. Rex Griffith had no idea of letting Long escape
+his clutches until his identity was established, one way or the other,
+beyond all question.</p>
+
+<p>That was why Long declined the offer. His honest gaze shifted. "I ain't
+much of a rider," he said evasively. Young Griffith read correctly the
+thought which the excuse concealed. Evidently Long considered himself
+an elder soldier, if not a better, than either of his two young guests,
+but wished to spare their feelings by not letting them find it out.
+Griffith found this plain solution inconsistent with his homicidal
+theory: a murderer, fleeing for his life, would have jumped at the
+chance.</p>
+
+<p>There are two sides to every question. Let us, this once, prove both
+sides. Wholly oblivious to Griffith's lynx-eyed watchfulness and his
+leading questions, Mr. Long yet recognized the futility of an attempt
+to ride away on Mr. Griffith's horse with Mr. Griffith's benison. There
+we have the other point of view.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have to send for grub anyway," pursued the sagacious Mr. Long.
+"I've only got a little left; and that old liar, Gwin, won't be out
+for four days—if he comes then. And—er—look here now—if I was you
+boys I'd let the sheriff and his posse smoke your badger out. They get
+paid to tend to that—and it looks to me like some one was going to get
+hurt. You've done enough."</p>
+
+<p>All this advice was so palpably sound that the doubter was, for the
+second, staggered—for a second only. This was the man he had seen in
+the prisoner's dock. He was morally sure of it. For all the difference
+of appearance, this was the man. Yet those blasts—the far-seen
+fire—the hearty welcome—this delivery of himself into their hands?...
+Griffith scarcely knew what he did think. He blamed himself for his
+unworthy suspicions; he blamed Gurdy more for having no suspicions at
+all.</p>
+
+<p>"Anything else?" he said. "That sounds good."</p>
+
+<p>Tobe studied for some time.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said at last, "there may be some way he can get out. I don't
+think he can—but he might find a way. He knows he's trapped; but
+likely he has no idea yet how many of us there are. So we know he'll
+try, and he won't be just climbing for fun. He'll take a chance."</p>
+
+<p>Steele broke in:</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't leave any rope on his saddle."</p>
+
+<p>Tobe nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"So he means to try it. Now here's five of us here. It seems to me
+that some one ought to ride round the mountain the first thing in the
+morning, and every day afterward—only here's hoping there won't be
+many of 'em—to look for tracks. There isn't one chance in a hundred he
+can climb out; but if he goes out of here afoot we've got him sure. The
+man on guard wants to keep in shelter. It's light to-night—there's no
+chance for him to slip out without being seen. You say the old watchman
+ain't dead yet, Mr. Griffith?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. The latest bulletin was that he was almost holding his own."</p>
+
+<p>"Hope he gets well," said Long. "Good old geezer! Now, cap, I've worked
+hard and you've ridden hard. Better set your guards and let the other
+two take a little snooze."</p>
+
+<p>Griffith was not proof against the insidious flattery of this
+unhesitant preference. He flushed with embarrassment and pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if I'm to be captain, Gurd will take the first guard—till
+eleven. Then you come on till two, Mr. Long. I'll stand from then on
+till daylight."</p>
+
+<p>In five minutes Mr. Long was enjoying the calm and restful sleep of
+fatigued innocence; but his poor captain was doomed to have a bad night
+of it, with two Bransfords on his hands—one in the Basin and one in
+the bed beside him. His head was dizzy with the vicious circle. Like
+the gentlewoman of the nursery rhyme, he was tempted to cry: "Lawk 'a'
+mercy on me, this is none of I!"</p>
+
+<p>If he haled his bedmate to justice and the real Bransford got
+away—that would be a nice predicament for an ambitious young man! He
+was sensitive to ridicule, and he saw here such an opportunity to earn
+it as knocks but once at any man's door.</p>
+
+<p>If, on the other hand, while he held Bransford cooped tightly in the
+Basin, this thrice-accursed Long should escape him and there should
+be no Bransford in the Basin——What nonsense! What utter twaddle!
+Bransford was in the Basin. He had found his horse and saddle, his
+tracks; no tracks had come out of the Basin. Immediately on the
+discovery of the outlaw's horse, Gurd had ridden back posthaste and
+held the pass while he, the captain, had gone to the mouth of the
+southern cañon and posted his friends. He had watched for tracks of
+a footman every step of the way, going and coming; there had been no
+tracks. Bransford was in the Basin. He watched the face of the sleeping
+man. But, by Heaven, this was Bransford!</p>
+
+<p>Was ever a poor captain in such a predicament? A moment before he
+had fully and definitely decided once for all that this man was not
+Bransford, could not be Bransford; that it was not possible! His
+reason unwaveringly told him one thing, his eyesight the other!... Yet
+Bransford, or an unfortunate twin of his, lay now beside him—and, for
+further mockery, slept peacefully, serene, untroubled.... He looked
+upon the elusive Mr. Long with a species of horror! The face was drawn
+and lined. Yet, but forty-eight hours of tension would have left
+Bransford's face not otherwise. He had noticed Bransford's hands in the
+courtroom—noticed their well-kept whiteness, due, as he had decided,
+to the perennial cowboy glove. This man's hands, as he had seen by the
+campfire, were blistered and calloused! Callouses were not made in a
+day. He took another look at Long. Oh, thunder!</p>
+
+<p>He crept from bed. He whispered a word to sentry Steele; not to outline
+the distressing state of his own mind, but merely to request Steele not
+to shoot him, as he was going up to the mine.</p>
+
+<p>He climbed up the trail, chewing the unpalatable thought that Gurdon
+had seen nothing amiss—yet Gurd had been at the trial! The captain
+began to wish he had never gone on that deerhunt.</p>
+
+<p>He went into the tent, struck a match, lit a candle and examined
+everything closely. There was no gun in the camp and no cartridges. He
+found the spill of twisted paper under the table, smothered his qualms
+and read it. He noted the open book for future examination in English.
+And now Tobe's labors had their late reward, for Rex missed nothing.
+Every effort brought fresh disappointment and every disappointment
+spurred him to fresh effort. He went into the tunnel; he scrutinized
+everything, even to the drills in the tub. The food supply tallied with
+Long's account. No detail escaped him and every detail confirmed the
+growing belief that he, Captain Griffith, was a doddering imbecile.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the outpost, convinced at last. Nevertheless, merely to
+quiet the ravings of his insubordinate instincts, now in open revolt,
+he restaked the horses nearer to camp and cautiously carried both
+saddles to the head of the bed. Concession merely encouraged the rebels
+to further and successful outrages—the government was overthrown.</p>
+
+<p>He drew sentry Steele aside and imparted his doubts. That faithful
+follower heaped scorn, mockery, laughter and abuse upon his shrinking
+superior: recounted all the points, from the first blasts of dynamite
+to the present moment, which favored the charitable belief above
+mentioned as newly entertained by Captain Griffith concerning himself.
+This belief of Captain Griffith was amply indorsed by his subordinate
+in terms of point and versatility.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they look alike. I noticed that the minute I saw him—the
+same amount of legs and arms, features all in the fore part of his
+head, hair on top, one body—wonderful! Why, you pitiful ass, that
+Bransford person was a mighty keen-looking man in any company.
+This fellow's a yokel—an old, rusty, cap-and-ball, single-shot
+muzzle-loader. The Bransford was an automatic, steel-frame, high
+velocity——"</p>
+
+<p>"The better head he has the more apt he is to do the unexpected——"</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, shut up! You've got incipient paresis! Stuff your ears in your
+mouth and go to sleep!"</p>
+
+<p>The captain sought his couch convinced, but holding his first opinion,
+savagely minded to arrest Mr. Long rather than let him have a gun
+to stand guard with. He was spared the decision. Mr. Long declined
+Gurdon's proffered gun, saying that he would be right there and he was
+a poor shot anyway.</p>
+
+<p>Gurdon slept; Long took his place—and Captain Rex, from the bed,
+watched the watcher. Never was there a more faithful sentinel than Mr.
+Long. Without relaxing his vigilance even to smoke, he strained every
+faculty lest the wily Bransford should creep out through the shadows.
+The captain saw him, a stooped figure, sitting motionless by his rock,
+always alert, peering this way and that, turning his head to listen.
+Once Tobe saw something. He crept noiselessly to the bed and shook
+his chief. Griffith came, with his gun. Something was stirring in the
+bushes. After a little it moved out of the shadows. It was a prowling
+coyote. The captain went back to bed once more convinced of Long's
+fidelity, but resolved to keep a relentless eye on him just the same.
+And all unawares, as he revolved the day's events in his mind, the
+captain dropped off to troubled sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long woke him at three. There had been a temptation to ride away,
+but the saddles were at the head of the bed, the ground was stony; he
+would be heard. He might have made an attempt to get both guns from
+under the pillow, but detection meant ruin for him, since to shoot
+these boys or to hurt them was out of the question. Escape by violence
+would have been easy and assured. Jeff preferred to trust his wits. He
+was enjoying himself very much.</p>
+
+<p>When the captain got his relentless eyes open and realized what had
+chanced he saw that further doubt was unworthy. Half an hour later the
+unworthy captain stole noiselessly to Long's bedside and saw, to his
+utter rage and distraction, that Mr. Bransford was there again. It was
+almost too much to bear. He felt that he should always hate Long, even
+after Bransford was safely hanged. Bransford's head had slipped from
+Long's pillow. Hating himself, Griffith subtly withdrew the miner's
+folded overalls and went through the pockets.</p>
+
+<p>He found there a knife smelling of dynamite, matches, a turquoise
+carved to what was plainly meant to be the form of a bad-tempered
+horse, and two small specimens of ore!</p>
+
+<p>Altogether, the captain passed a wild and whirling night.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN</h3>
+
+<h3>(<i>Continued</i>)</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"If the bowl had been stronger</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">My tale had been longer."</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>Mother Goose.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>When the sun peeped over Rainbow Range, Captain Griffith bent over Tobe
+Long's bed. His eyes were aching, burned and sunken; the lids twitched;
+his face was haggard and drawn—but he had arrived at an unalterable
+decision. This thing could not and should not go on. His brain reeled
+now—another such night would entitle him to state protection.</p>
+
+<p>He shook Mr. Long roughly.</p>
+
+<p>"See here! I believe you're Bransford himself!"</p>
+
+<p>Thus taken off his guard, Long threw back the bedding, rose to one
+elbow, still half asleep, and reached for his shoes, laughing and
+yawning alternately. Then, as he woke up a little more, he saw a better
+way to dress, dropped the shoes and unfurled his pillow—which, by day,
+he wore as overalls. Fumbling behind him, where the pillow had lain,
+he found a much-soiled handkerchief and tenderly dabbed at his swollen
+eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Bit of steel in my eye from a drill-head," he explained. "Jiminy, but
+it's sore!"</p>
+
+<p>Plainly he took the accusation as a pleasantry calling for no answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean it! I'm going to keep you under guard!" said Captain Griffith
+bitingly.</p>
+
+<p>Poor, sleepy Tobe, half-way into his overalls, stared up at Mr.
+Griffith; his mouth dropped open—he was quite at a loss for words. The
+captain glared back at him. Tobe kicked the overalls off and cuddled
+back into bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Bully!" he said. "Then I won't have to get breakfast!"</p>
+
+<p>Gurdon Steele sat up in bed, a happy man. His eye gave Mr. Long a
+discreetly confidential look, as of one who restrains himself, out of
+instinctive politeness, from a sympathetic and meaningful tap of one's
+forehead. A new thought struck Mr. Long. He reached over behind Steele
+for the rifle at the bed's edge and thrust it into the latter's hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, Boy Scout! Watch me!" he whispered. "Don't let me escape while I
+sleep a few lines! I'm Bransford!"</p>
+
+<p>Gurdie rubbed his eyes and giggled.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you mind Rex. That's the worst of this pipe habit. You never can
+tell how they'll break out next."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, laugh, you blind bat!" said Rex bitterly. "I've got him all the
+same, and I'm going to keep him while you go to Escondido!" His rifle
+was tucked under his arm; he patted the barrel significantly.</p>
+
+<p>It slowly dawned upon Mr. Long that Captain Griffith was not joking,
+after all, and an angry man was he. He sat up in bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, piffle! Oh, fudge! Oh, pickled moon-shine! If I'm Bransford what
+the deuce am I doing here? Why, you was both asleep! I could 'a' shot
+your silly heads off and you'd 'a' never woke up. You make me tired!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mind him, Long. He'll feel better when he takes a nap," said
+Gurd joyfully. "He has poor spells like this and he misses his nurse.
+We always make allowances for him."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long's indignation at last overcame his politeness, and in his
+wrath he attacked friend and foe indiscriminately.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to tell me you two puling infants are out hunting down a
+man you never saw? Don't the men at the other side know him either? By
+jinks, you hike out o' this after breakfast and send for some grown-up
+men. I want part of that reward—and I'm going to have it! Look here!"
+He turned blackly to Gurdon. "Are you sure that Bransford, or any one
+else, came in here at all yesterday, or did you dream it? Or was it all
+a damfool kid joke? Listen here! I worked like a dog yesterday. If you
+had me stand guard three hours, tired as I was, for nothing, there's
+going to be more to it. What kind of a sack-and-snipe trick is this,
+anyway? You just come one at a time and I'll lick the stuffin' out o'
+both o' you! I ain't feelin' like any schoolboy pranks just now."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; that part's all straight. Bransford's in there, all right,"
+protested Gurdon. "If you hadn't been working in the tunnel you'd have
+seen him when he went by. Here's the note he left. And his horse and
+saddle are up at the spring. We left the horse there because he was
+lame and about all in. Bransford can't get away on him. Rex is just
+excited—that's all the matter with him. Hankering for glory! I told
+him last night not to make a driveling idiot of himself. Here, read
+this insolent note, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>Long glowered at the note and flung it aside. "Anybody could 'a'
+wrote that! How am I to know this thing ain't some more of your funny
+streaks? You take these horses to water and bring back Bransford's
+horse and saddle, and then I'll know what to believe. Be damn sure you
+bring them, too, or we'll go to producing glory right here—great gobs
+and chunks of it! You Griffith! put down that gun or I'll knock your
+fool head off! I'm takin' charge of this outfit now, and don't you
+forget it! And I don't want no maniac wanderin' round me with a gun.
+You go to gatherin' up wood as fast as ever God'll let you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Say, I was mistaken," said the deposed leader, thoroughly convinced
+once more. "You do look like Bransford, you know." He laid down his
+rifle obediently.</p>
+
+<p>"Look like your grandmother's left hind foot!" sneered the outraged
+miner. "My eyes is brown and so's Bransford's. Outside o' that——"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but you do, a little," said his ally, Steele. "I noticed it
+myself, last night. Not much—but still there's a resemblance. Poor Cap
+Griffith just let his nerves and imagination run away with him—that's
+all."</p>
+
+<p>Long sniffed. "Funny I never heard of it before," he said. He was
+somewhat mollified, nevertheless; and, while cooking breakfast, he
+received very graciously a stammered and half-hearted apology from
+young Mr. Griffith, now reduced to the ranks. "Oh, that's all right,
+kid. But say—you be careful and don't shoot your pardner when he comes
+back."</p>
+
+<p>Gurdon brought back the sorrel horse and the saddle, thereby allaying
+Mr. Long's wrathful mistrust that the whole affair was a practical joke.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you butter wouldn't suit the works!" said Rex triumphantly, and
+watched the working of his test with a jealous eye.</p>
+
+<p>Long knew his Alice. "'But it was the best butter,'" he said. He
+surveyed the sorrel horse; his eye brightened. "We'll whack up that
+blood-money yet," he announced confidently. "Now I'm going to walk over
+to the south side and get one of those fellows to ride sign round the
+mountain. You boys can sleep, turn and turn about, till I get back.
+Then I want Steele to go to Escondido and wire up to Arcadia that
+we've got our bear by the tail and want help to turn him loose, and
+tell Pappy Sanders to send me out some grub or I'll skin him. Pappy's
+putting up for the mine, you know. I'll stay here and keep an eye on
+Griffith." He gave that luckless warrior a jeering look, as one who has
+forgiven but not forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you ride one of our horses?" said Gurdon.</p>
+
+<p>"Want to keep 'em fresh. Then if Bransford gets out over the cliffs
+you can run him down like a mad dog," said Tobe. "Besides, if I ride a
+fresh horse in here he'll maybe shoot me to get the horse; and if he
+could catch you lads away from shelter maybe so he'd make a dash for
+it, a-shootin'. See here! If I was dodgin' in here like him—know what
+I'd do? I'd just shoot a few lines on general principles to draw you
+away from the gates. Then if you went in to see about it I'd either
+kill you if I had to, or slip out if you give me the chance. You just
+stay right here, whatever happens. Keep under shelter and keep your
+horses right by you. We got him bottled up and we won't draw the cork
+till the sheriff comes. I'll tell 'em to do the same way at the other
+end. I won't take any gun with me and I'll stick to the big main road.
+That way Bransford won't feel no call to shoot me. Likely he's 'way up
+in the cliffs, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"Ride the sorrel horse then, why don't you? He isn't lame enough to
+hurt much, but he's lame enough that Bransford won't want him." Thus
+Mr. Griffith, again dissimulating. Every detail of Mr. Long's plan
+forestalled suspicion. That these measures were precisely calculated to
+disarm suspicion now occurred to Griffith's stubborn mind. For he had a
+stubborn mind; the morning's coffee had cleared it of cobwebs, and it
+clung more tenaciously than ever to the untenable and thrice-exploded
+theory that Long and Bransford were one and inseparable, now and
+forever.</p>
+
+<p>He meditated an ungenerous scheme for vindication and, to that end,
+wished Mr. Long to ride the sorrel horse. For Mr. Long, if he were
+indeed the murderer—as, of course, he was—would indubitably, upon
+some plausible pretext, attempt to pass the guards at the farther end
+of the trip, where was no clear-eyed Griffith on guard. What more
+plausible that a modification of the plan already rehearsed—for Long
+to tell the wardens that Griffith had sent him to telegraph to the
+sheriff? Let him once pass those warders on any pretext! That would be
+final betrayal, for all his shrewdness. There was no possibility that
+Long and Bransford could complete their escape on that lame sorrel.
+He would not be allowed to get much of a start—just enough to betray
+himself. Then he, Griffith, would bring them back in triumph.</p>
+
+<p>It was a good scheme: all things considered, it reflected great credit
+upon Mr. Griffith's imagination. As in Poe's game of "odd or even,"
+where you must outguess your opponent and follow his thought, Mr. Rex
+Griffith had guessed correctly in every respect. Such, indeed, had
+been Mr. Long's plan. Only Rex did not guess quite often enough. Mr.
+Long had guessed just one layer deeper—namely, that Mr. Griffith
+would follow his thought correctly and also follow him. Therefore Mr.
+Long switched again. It was a bully game—better than poker. Mr. Long
+enjoyed it very much.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Rex expected, Tobe allowed himself to be overpersuaded and
+rode the sorrel horse. He renamed the sorrel horse Goldie, on the
+spot, saddled him awkwardly, mounted in like manner, and rode into the
+shadowy depths of Double Mountain.</p>
+
+<p>Once he was out of sight Mr. Griffith followed, despite the angry
+protest of Mr. Steele—alleging falsely that he was going to try for a
+deer.</p>
+
+<p>Tobe rode slowly up the crooked and brush-lined cañon. Behind him,
+cautiously hidden, came Griffith, the hawk-eyed avenger—waiting
+at each bend until Mr. Long had passed the next one, for closer
+observation of how Mr. Long bore himself in solitude.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long bore himself most disappointingly. He rode slowly and
+awkwardly, scanning with anxious care the hillsides before him. Not
+once did he look back lest he should detect Mr. Griffith. Near the
+summit the Goldie horse shied and jumped. It was only one little
+jump, whereunto Goldie had been privately instigated by Mr. Long's
+thumb—"thumbing" a horse, as done by one conversant with equine
+anatomy, produces surprising results!—but it caught Mr. Long unawares
+and tumbled him ignominiously in the dust.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long sat in the sand and rubbed his shoulder: Goldie turned and
+looked down at him in unqualified astonishment. Mr. Long then cursed
+Mr. Bransford's sorrel horse; he cursed Mr. Bransford for bringing
+the sorrel horse; he cursed himself for riding the sorrel horse; he
+cursed Mr. Griffith, with one last, longest, heart-felt, crackling,
+hair-raising, comprehensive and masterly curse, for having persuaded
+him to ride the sorrel horse. Then he tied the sorrel horse to a bush
+and hobbled on afoot, saying it all over backward.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Griffith experienced the most intense mortification—except
+one—of his life. This was conclusive. Bransford was reputed the best
+rider in Rainbow. This was Long. He was convinced, positively, finally
+and irrevocably. He did not even follow Mr. Long to the other side of
+Double Mountain, but turned back to camp, keeping a sharp eye out for
+traces of the real Bransford; to no effect. It was only by chance—a
+real chance—that, clambering on the gatepost cliffs to examine a
+curious whorl of gneiss, he happened to see Mr. Long as he returned.
+Mr. Long came afoot, leading the sorrel horse. Just before he came
+within sight of camp he led the horse up beside a boulder, climbed
+clumsily into the saddle, clutched the saddle-horn, and so rode into
+camp. The act was so natural a one that Griffith, already convinced,
+was convinced again—the more so because Long preserved a discreet
+silence as to the misadventure with the sorrel horse.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Long reported profanely that the men on the other side had also
+been disposed to arrest him, and had been dissuaded with difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>"So I guess I must look some like Bransford, though I would never 'a'
+guessed it. Reckon nobody knows what they really look like. Chances are
+a feller wouldn't know himself if he met him in the road. That squares
+you, kid. No hard feelings?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit. I certainly thought you were Bransford, at first," said
+Griffith.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the black-eyed one—Stone—he's coming round on the west side
+now, cutting sign. You be all ready to start for Escondido as soon as
+he gets here, Gurd. Say, you don't want to wait for the sheriff if he's
+up on Rainbow. You wire a lot of your friends to come on the train at
+nine o'clock to-night. Sheriff can come when he gets back. There ain't
+but a few horses at Escondido. You get Pappy Sanders to send your gang
+out in a wagon—such as can't find horses."</p>
+
+<p>"Better take in both of ours, Gurd," said Griffith. He knew Long was
+all right, as has been said, but he was also newly persuaded of his own
+fallibility. He had been mistaken about Long being Bransford; therefore
+he might be mistaken about Long being Long. In this spirit of humility
+he made the suggestion recorded above, and was grieved that Long
+indorsed it.</p>
+
+<p>"And I want you to do two errands for me, kid. You give this to Pappy
+Sanders—the storekeeper, you know"—here he produced the little
+eohippus from his pocket—"and tell him to send it to a jeweler
+for me and get a hole bored in it so it'll balance. Want to use
+it for a watch-charm when I get a watch. And if we pull off this
+Bransford affair I'll have me a watch. Now don't you lose that! It's
+turquoise—worth a heap o' money. Besides, he's a lucky little horse."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll put him in my pocketbook," said Gurdon.</p>
+
+<p>"Better give him to Pappy first off, else you're liable to forget
+about him, he's so small. Then you tell Pappy to send me out some
+grub. I won't make out no bill. He's grubstakin' the mine; he'll
+know what to send. You just tell him I'm about out of patience. Tell
+him I want about everything there is, and want it quick; and a jar
+for sour dough—I broke mine. And get some newspapers." He hesitated
+perceptibly. "See here, boys, I hate to mention this; but old Pappy,
+him and this Jeff Bransford is purty good friends. I reckon Pappy won't
+much like it to furnish grub for you while you're puttin' the kibosh on
+Jeff. You better get some of your own. You see how it is, don't you?
+'Tain't like it was my chuck."</p>
+
+<p>Stone came while they saddled. He spoke apart with Griffith as to Mr.
+Long, and a certain favor he bore to the escaped bank-robber; but
+Griffith, admitting his own self-deception in that line, outlined the
+history of the past unhappy night. Stone, who had suffered only a
+slight misgiving, was fully satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>As Steele started for the railroad Mr. Stone set out to complete the
+circuit of Double Mountain, in the which he found no runaway tracks.
+And Griffith and Long, sleeping alternately—especially Griffith—kept
+faithful ward over the gloomy gate of Double Mountain.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>FLIGHT</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>"Keep away from that wheelbarrow—what the hell do you know about
+machinery?"—<span class="smcap">Elbert Hubbard.</span><a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>Just after dark a horseman with a led horse came jogging round the
+mountain on the trail from Escondido. On the led horse was a pack bound
+rather slouchily, not to a packsaddle, but to an old riding saddle. The
+horses were unwilling to enter the circle of firelight, so the rider
+drew rein just beyond—a slender and boyish rider, with a flopping
+wide-brimmed hat too large for him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, look who's here!" said Tobe, as one who greets an unexpected
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Tobe! Here's your food, grub, chuck and provisions! Got your
+outlaw yet? Them other fellows will be out along toward midnight." He
+went on without waiting for an answer: "Put me on your payroll. Pappy
+said I was to go to work—and if you was going to quit work to hunt
+down his friend you'd better quit for good. Lead on to your little old
+mine. I don't know where it is, even."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go up and unpack, Rex," said Tobe; "but, of course, I'm not going
+to lose my part of that five thousand. Pappy's foolish. He's gettin'
+old. I'll be back after a while and bring down the papers."</p>
+
+<p>Chatting of the trapped outlaw, the Ophir men climbed the zig-zag to
+the mine. To Griffith, their voices dwindled to an indistinct murmur; a
+light glowed through the tent on the dump.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger pressed into Jeff's hand something small and hard—the
+little eohippus. "Here's your little old token. Pappy caught on at once
+and he sent me along to represent. Let's get this pack off and get out
+of here. Do we have to go down the same trail again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said Jeff. "There's a wood-trail leads round the mountain to
+the east. Who're you? I don't know you."</p>
+
+<p>"Charley Gibson. Pappy knows me. He sent the little stone horse to
+vouch for me. I'm O. K. Time enough to explain when we've made a clean
+getaway."</p>
+
+<p>"You're damn right there," Jeff said. "That boy down yonder is nobody's
+fool. I'll light a candle in the tent and he'll think I'm reading the
+newspapers. That'll hold him a while."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be going on down the trail," said Gibson. "This way, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's the one. All right. Go slow and don't make any more noise
+than you can help."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff would have liked his own proper clothing and effects, but there
+was no time for resuscitation. Lighting the candle, he acquired "Alice
+in Wonderland" and thrust it into the bosom of his shirt. It had been
+years since last he read that admirable work; his way now led either
+to hiding or to jail—and, with Alice to share his fate, he felt equal
+to either fortune. He left the candle burning: the tent shone with a
+mellow glow.</p>
+
+<p>"If he didn't hear our horses coming down we're a little bit of all
+right," said Jeff, as he rejoined his rescuer on the level. "Even if he
+does, he may think we've gone to hobble 'em—only he'd think we ought
+to water 'em first. Now for the way of the transgressor, to Old Mexico.
+This little desert'll be one busy place to-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>They circled Double Mountain, making a wide detour to avoid rough
+going, and riding at a hard gallop until, behind and to their right,
+a red spark of fire came into view from behind a hitherto intervening
+shoulder, marking where Stone and Harlow held the southward pass.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff drew rein and bore off obliquely toward the road at an easy trot.</p>
+
+<p>"They're there yet. So that's all right!" he said. "They've just put
+on fresh wood. I saw it flame up just then." He was in high feather.
+He began to laugh, or, more accurately, he resumed his laughter, for
+he had been too mirthful for much speech. "That poor devil Griffith
+will wait and fidget and stew! He'll think I'm in the tent, reading the
+newspapers—reading about the Arcadian bank robbery, likely. He'll wait
+a while, then he'll yell at me. Then he'll think we've gone to hobble
+the horses. He won't want to leave the gap unguarded. He won't know
+what to think. Finally he'll go up to the mine and see that pack piled
+off any which way, and no saddles. Then he'll know, but he won't know
+what to do. He'll think we're for Old Mexico, but he won't know it for
+sure. And it's too dark to track us. Oh, my stars, but I bet he'll be
+mad!"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Which shows that we all make mistakes. Mr. Griffith, though young,
+was of firm character, as has been lightly intimated. He waited a
+reasonable time to allow for paper-reading, then he waited a little
+longer and shouted; but when there was no answer he knew at once
+precisely what had happened: he had not been a fool at all, whatever
+Steele and Bransford had assured him, and he was a bigger fool to
+have allowed himself to be persuaded that he had been. It is true
+that he didn't know what was best to do, but he knew exactly what he
+was going to do—and did it promptly. Seriously annoyed, he spurred
+through Double Mountain, gathered up Stone and Harlow, and followed the
+southward road. Bransford had been on the way to Old Mexico—he was on
+that road still; Griffith put everything on the one bold cast. While
+the others saddled he threw fresh fuel on the fire, with a rankling
+memory of the candle in the deserted tent and Hannibal at Saint Jo. For
+the first time Griffith had the better of the long battle of wits. That
+armful of fuel slowed Jeff from gallop to trot, turned assured victory
+into a doubtful contest; when the fugitives regained the El Paso road
+Griffith's vindictive little band was not five miles behind them.</p>
+
+<p>The night was lightly clouded—not so dark but that the pursuers
+noticed—or thought they noticed—the fresh tracks in the road when
+they came to them. They stopped, struck matches and confirmed their
+hopes: two shod horses going south at a smart gait; the dirt was torn
+up too much for travelers on their lawful occasions. From that moment
+Griffith urged the chase unmercifully; the fleeing couple, in fancied
+security, lost ground with every mile.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>"How on earth did you manage it? Didn't they know you?" demanded Gibson
+as the pace slackened.</p>
+
+<p>"It wasn't me! It was Tobe Long! 'You may not have lived much under the
+sea, and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster,'" quoted
+Jeff. Rocking in the saddle, he gave a mirthful résumé of his little
+evanishment. "And, oh, just think of that candle burning away in that
+quiet, empty tent! If I could have seen Griffith's face!" he gloated.
+"Oh me! Oh my!... And he was so sure!... Say, Gibson, how do you come
+in this galley?" As a lone prospector his speech had been fittingly
+coarse; now, with every mile, he shook off the debasing influence of
+Mr. Long. "Kettle-washing makes black hands. Aren't you afraid you'll
+get into trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody knows I'm kettle-washing, except Pappy Sanders and you," said
+Gibson. "I was careful not to let your friend see me at the fire."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do you a good turn sometime," said Jeff. He rode on in silence
+for a while and presently was lost in his own thoughts, leaning over
+with his hands folded on his horse's neck. In a low and thoughtful
+voice he half repeated, half chanted to himself:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Illilleo Legardi, in the garden there alone,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">There came to me no murmur of the fountain's undertone</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">So mystically, magically mellow as your own!"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Another silence. Then Jeff roused himself, with a start.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what, Gibson, you'd better cut loose from me. So far
+as I can see, you are only a kid. You don't want to get mixed up in a
+murder scrape. This would go pretty hard with you if they can prove it
+on you. Of course, I'm awfully obliged to you and all that; but you'd
+better quit me while the quitting's good."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no; I'll see you through," said Gibson lightly. "Besides, I know
+you had nothing to do with the murder."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the hell you do!" said Jeff. "That's kind of you, I'm sure. See
+here, who'd sold you your chips, anyway? How'd you get in this game?"</p>
+
+<p>"I got in this game, as you put it, because I jolly well wanted to,"
+replied Charley, with becoming spirit. "That ought to be reason enough
+for anything in this country. Nothing against it in the rules—and
+I don't use the rules, anyhow. If you must have it all spelled out
+for you—I knew, or at least I'd heard, that your friends were away
+from Rainbow; so I judged you wouldn't go up there. Then I knew those
+four amateur Sherlocks—they're in my set in Arcadia. When two of the
+deerhunters, after starting at two a.m., came back to Arcadia the same
+morning they left, looking all wise and important, and slipped off on
+the train to Escondido, saying nothing to any one—and when the other
+two didn't come home at all—I began to think; went down to the depot,
+found they had gone to Escondido, and I came on the next train. I found
+out Pappy was your friend; and when he got your little hurry-up call
+I volunteered my services, seeing Pappy was too old and not footloose
+anyhow—with a wife and property. That's the how of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, that's all right; but what makes you think I'm innocent?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know Mr. White, you see. And Mr. White seems to think that at about
+the time the bank was robbed you were—in a garden!" Charley's voice
+was edged with faint mockery.</p>
+
+<p>"Huh!" said Jeff, startled. "Who in hell is Mr. White?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. White—in hell—is the devil!" said Charley.</p>
+
+<p>At this unexpected disclosure Jeff lashed his horse to a gallop—his
+spurs, you remember, being certain feet under the Ophir dump—and
+strove to bring his thoughts to bear upon this new situation. He slowed
+down and Charley drew up beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to have stayed quite a while—in a garden," suggested Charley.</p>
+
+<p>"That tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble yet," said Jeff.
+"You'll never live to be grayheaded."</p>
+
+<p>Charley was not to be daunted.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Jeff, she's pretty easy to get acquainted with, what? And those
+eyes of hers—a little on the see-you-later style, aren't they?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff turned in his saddle.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you look here, Mr. Charley Gibson! I'm under obligations to you,
+and so on—but I've heard all of that kind of talk that's good—<i>sabe</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know her," persisted Charley. "Know her by heart—know her like
+a book. She made a fool of me, too. She drives 'em single, double,
+tandem, random and four abreast!"</p>
+
+<p>"You little beast!" Jeff launched his horse at the traducer, but Gibson
+spurred aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop now, Jeffy! Easy does it! I've got a gun!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut your damn head then! Gun or no gun, don't you take that girl's
+name in your mouth again, or——Hark! What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>It was a clatter far behind—a ringing of swift hoofs on hard ground.</p>
+
+<p>"By George, they're coming! Griffith will be a man yet!" said Jeff
+approvingly. "Come on, kid; we've got to burn the breeze! I suppose
+that talk of yours is only your damn fool idea of fun, but I don't like
+it. Cut it out, now, and ride like a drunk Indian!" He laughed loud
+and long. "Think o' that candle, will you?—burning away with a clear,
+bright, steady flame, and nobody within ten miles of it!"</p>
+
+<p>They raced side by side; but Gibson, heedless of their perilous
+situation, or perhaps taking advantage of it, took a malicious delight
+in goading Jeff to madness; and he refused either to be silent or to
+talk about candles, notwithstanding Jeff's preference for that topic.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not joking! I'm telling you for your own good." Here the tormentor
+prudently fell back half a length and raised his voice so as to be
+heard above the flying feet. "Hasn't she gone back to New York, I'd
+like to know, and left you to get out of it the best way you can? She
+could 'a' stayed if she'd wanted to. Don't tell me! Haven't I seen how
+she bosses her mother round? No, sir! She's willing to let you hang to
+save herself a little slander—or, more likely, a little talk!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff whirled his horse to his haunches, but once more Gibson was too
+quick for him. Gibson's horse was naturally the nimbler of the two,
+even without the advantage of spurs.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a lie! She was going to tell—she was bound to tell; I made her
+keep silent. After I jumped out she couldn't well say anything. That's
+why I jumped. Was I going to make her a target for such vile tongues
+as yours—for me? Oh! You ought to be shot out of a red-hot cannon,
+through a barbed-wire fence, into hell! You lie, you coward, you know
+you lie! I'll cram it down your throat if you'll get off and throw that
+gun down!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yah! It's likely I'll put the gun down!" scoffed Gibson. "Ride on, you
+fool! Do you want to hang? Ride on and keep ahead! Remember, I've got
+the gun!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hanging's not so bad," snarled Jeff. "I'd rather be hung decently
+than be such a thing as you! Oh, if I just had a gun!"</p>
+
+<p>The sound of pursuit was clearer now; and, of course, the pursuers
+could hear the pursued as well and fought for every inch.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff rode on, furious at his helplessness. For several miles his
+tormentor raced behind in silence, fearing, if he persisted longer
+in his evil course, that Jeff would actually stop and give himself
+up. They gained now on their pursuers, who had pressed their horses
+overhard to make up the five-mile handicap.</p>
+
+<p>As they came to a patch of sandy ground they eased the pace somewhat.
+Charley drew a little closer to Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Now don't get mad. I had no idea you thought so much of the girl——"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"——or I wouldn't have deviled you so. I'll quit. How was I to know
+you'd stop to fight for her with the very rope round your neck? It's
+a pity she'll never know about it.... You can't have seen her more
+than two or three times—and Heaven only knows where that was! On that
+camping trip, I reckon. What kind of a girl is she, anyhow, to hold
+clandestine interviews with a stranger?... She'll write to you by and
+by—a little scented note, with a little stilted, meaningless word of
+thanks. No, she won't. It'll be gushy: 'Oh, my hero! How can I ever
+repay you?' She won't let you out of her clutches—anybody, so long as
+it's a man! Here! None o' that!... Go on, now, if you want to live!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Who the hell wants to live?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>A noose flew back from the darkness. Jeff's horse darted aside and
+Gibson was jerked sprawling to the sand at a rope's end—hat flew one
+way, gun another. Jeff ran to the six-shooter.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's got the gun now?" he jeered, as he loosened the rope. "I only
+wish we had two of 'em!"</p>
+
+<p>"You harebrained idiot!" Charley grabbed up his hat and spit sand from
+his mouth. "Get your horse and ride, you unthinkable donkey!"</p>
+
+<p>"Pleasure first, business afterward!" Jeff unbuckled Gibson's gunbelt
+and transferred it to his own waist, jerking Gibson to his feet in the
+violent process. "Now, you little blackguard, you either take back all
+that or you'll get the lickin' o' your life! You're too small; but all
+the same——"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll take it back, you big bully—all I said and a lot more I only
+thought!" said Charley spitefully. He was almost crying with rage as
+he limped to his horse. "She's an angel on earth! Sure she is! Ride,
+you maniac—ride! Oh, you ought to be hung! I hope you do hang—you
+miserable ruffian!"</p>
+
+<p>The following hoofs no longer rang sharply; they took on a muffled
+beat—they were in the sand's edge not a mile behind.</p>
+
+<p>"Ride ahead, you! I've got the gun, remember!" observed Jeff
+significantly; "but if you slur that girl again I'll not shoot
+you—I'll naturally wear you out with this belt."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>GOOD-BY</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>"They have ridden the low moon out of the sky; their hoofs drum up the
+dawn."—<i>Two Strong Men</i>, <span class="smcap">Kipling</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not speaking of her and I'm not going to," protested Gibson, in a
+changed tone. "I'll promise! My horse is failing, Jeff. I rode hard and
+fast from Escondido. Your horse carried nothing much but a saddle—that
+pack was mostly bluff, you know. And those fellows' horses have come
+twenty miles less than either of ours."</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe we're going to make it, Jeff!" There was a forlorn
+little quaver in Charley's voice.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff grunted. "Uh! Maybe not. Griffith'll be real pleased."</p>
+
+<p>Gibson rode closer. "Can't we turn off the road and hide?"</p>
+
+<p>"Till daylight," said Jeff. "Then they'll get us. No way out of this
+desert except across the edges somewhere. You go if you want to. They
+won't bother to hunt for you, maybe, if they get me."</p>
+
+<p>"No. It's my fault.... I'll see it out.... I'm sorry, Jeff—but it was
+so funny!" Here, rather to Jeff's surprise, Charley's dejection gave
+place to laughter.</p>
+
+<p>They rode up a sandy slope where mesquites grew black along the road.
+Blown sand had lodged to hummocks in their thick and matted growth; the
+road was a sunken way.</p>
+
+<p>"How far is it from here, Jeff?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ten miles—maybe only eight—to the river. We're in Texas now—have
+been for an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Think we can make it?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Quien sabe?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Gibson drew rein. "You go on. Your horse isn't so tired."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I guess not!" said Jeff. "Come on."</p>
+
+<p>The sound of pursuit came clear through the quiet night. There was
+silence for a little.</p>
+
+<p>"What'll you do, Jeff? Fight?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't!" said Jeff. "Hurt those boys? I couldn't fight, the way it
+is—hardly, even if 'twas the sheriff. I'll just hang, I reckon."</p>
+
+<p>They reached the top of the little slope and turned down the other side.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't altogether like this hanging idea," said Gibson. "I got you
+into this, Jeff; so I'll just get you out again—like the man in our
+town who was so wondrous wise. Going to use bramble bushes, too."
+Volatile Gibson, in the stress of danger, had forgotten his wrath. He
+was light-hearted and happy, frivolously gay. "Give me your rope and
+your gun, Jeff. Quick now! No, I won't mention your girl—not once!
+Hurry!"</p>
+
+<p>"What you going to do?" asked Jeff, thoroughly mystified.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever read the 'Fool's Errand'?" Charley chuckled. "No? Well, I have.
+Jump off and tie the end of your rope to that mesquite root. Quick!"</p>
+
+<p>He sprang down, snatched one end of the coil from Jeff's hand and
+stretched it taut across the road, a foot from the ground. "Now your
+gun! Quick!"</p>
+
+<p>He snatched the gun, tied an end of his own saddle-rope to the
+stretched one, near the middle, plunged through the mesquite, over a
+hummock, paying out his rope as he went; wedged the gun firmly in the
+springing crotch of a mesquite tree, cocked it and tied the loose end
+of the trailing rope to the trigger. He ran back and sprang on his
+horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Now ride! It's our last chance!"</p>
+
+<p>"Kid, you're a wonder!" said Jeff. "You'll do to take along! They'll
+lope up when they turn down that slope, hit that rope and pile in a
+heap!"</p>
+
+<p>"And my rope will fire the gun off!" shrilled joyous Charley. "They'll
+think it's us—an ambuscade——"</p>
+
+<p>"They'll take to the sand-hills," Jeff broke in. "They'll shoot into
+the bushes—they'll think it's us firing back, half the time....
+They'll scatter out and surround that lonesome, harmless motte and
+watch it till daylight. You bet they won't go projecting round it any
+till daylight, either!" He looked up at the sky. "There's the morning
+star. See it? 'They have ridden the low moon out of the sky'—only
+there isn't any moon—'their hoofs drum up the dawn.' Then they'll
+find our tracks—and if I only could see the captain's face! 'Oh, my
+threshings, and the corn of my floor!'... And by then we'll be in
+Mexico and asleep.... When Griffith finds that gun—oh, he'll never
+show his head in Arcadia again!... Say, Charley, I hope none of 'em get
+hurt when they strike your skip-rope."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh! It's sandy! A heap you cared about me getting hurt when you
+dragged me from my horse!" said Gibson, rather snappishly. "You did
+hurt me, too. You nearly broke my neck and you cut my arms. And I got
+full of mesquite thorns when I set that gun. You don't care! I'm only
+the man that came to save your neck. That's the thanks I get! But the
+men that are trying to hang you—that's different! You'd better go
+back. They might get hurt. You'll be sorry sometime for the way you've
+treated me. There—it's too late now!"</p>
+
+<p>A shot rang behind them. There was a brief silence. Then came a sharp
+fusillade, followed by scattering shots, dwindling to longer intervals.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff clung to his saddle-horn.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess they ain't hurt much," he laughed. "Wish I could see 'em when
+they find out! Slow down, kid. We've got lots of time now."</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't," protested Charley. "Keep moving. It's hard on the horses,
+but they'll have a lifetime to rest in. They've telegraphed all over
+the country. You want to cross the river before daylight. It would be
+too bad for you to be caught now! Is there any ford, do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not this time of year. River's up."</p>
+
+<p>"Cross in a boat then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Guess we'd better. That horse of yours is pretty well used up. Don't
+believe he could swim it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm not going over. I'll get up to El Paso. I've got friends
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll get caught."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't. I'm not going across, I tell you, and that's all there
+is to it! I guess I'll have something to say about things. I'm going
+to see you safely over, and that's the last you'll ever see of Charley
+Gibson."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well!" Jeff reflected a little. "If you're sure you won't come
+along, I'd rather swim. My horse is strong yet. You see, it takes time
+to find a boat, and a boat means a house and dogs; and I'll need my
+horse on the other side. How'll you get to El Paso? Griffith'll likely
+come down here about an hour by sun, 'cross lots, a-cryin'."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll manage that," said Gibson curtly enough. "You tend to your own
+affair."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right!" Jeff rode ahead. He whistled; then he chanted his war
+song:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Said the little Eohippus:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">'I'm going to be a horse!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And on my middle finger-nails</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To run my earthly course!'</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">The Coryphodon was horrified;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Dinoceras was shocked;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And they chased young Eohippus,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But he skipped away and mocked.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Said they: 'You always were as small</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And mean as now we see,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And that's conclusive evidence</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That you're always going to be.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">What! Be a great, tall, handsome beast,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With hoofs to gallop on?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Why! You'd have to change your nature!'</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Said the Loxolophodon."</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Jeff!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" Jeff turned his head. Charley was drooping visibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop that foolish song!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff rode on in silence. This was a variable person, Gibson. They were
+dropping down from the mesa into the valley of the Rio Grande.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeff!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff fell back beside Charley. "Tired, pardner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jeff, I'm terribly tired! I'm not used to riding so far; and I'm
+sleepy—so sleepy!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, pardner; we'll go slower. We'll walk. Most there now.
+There's the railroad."</p>
+
+<p>"Keep on trotting. I can stand it. We must get to the river before
+daylight. Is it far?" Charley's voice was weary. The broad sombrero
+drooped sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Two miles to the river. El Paso's seven or eight miles up the line.
+Brace up, old man! You've done fine and dandy! It's just because the
+excitement is all over. Why should you go any farther, anyhow? There's
+Ysleta up the track a bit. Follow the road up there and flag the first
+train. That'll be best."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. I'll go all the way. I'll make out." Charley straightened
+himself with an effort.</p>
+
+<p>They crossed the Espee tracks and came to a lane between cultivated
+fields.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeff! I'd like to say something. It won't be breaking my promise
+really.... I didn't mean what I said about—you know. I was only
+teasing. She's a good enough girl, I guess—as girls go."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff nodded. "I did not need to be told that."</p>
+
+<p>"And you left her in a cruel position when you jumped out of the
+window. She can't tell now, so long as there's any other way. What a
+foolish thing to do! If you'd just said at first that you were in the
+garden——Oh, why didn't you? But after the chances you took rather
+than to tell—why, Jeff, it would be terrible for her now."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that, too," said Jeff. "I suppose I was a fool; but I didn't
+want her to get mixed up with it, and at the same time I cared less
+about hanging than any time I can remember. You see, I didn't know till
+the last minute that the garden was going to cut any figure. And do you
+suppose I'd have that courthouseful of fools buzzing and whispering at
+her? Not much! Maybe it was foolish—but I'm glad I did it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad of it, too. If you had to be a fool," said Charley, "I'm glad
+you were that kind of a fool. Are you still mad at me?"</p>
+
+<p>Since Charley had recanted, and more especially since he had taken
+considerate thought for the girl's compulsory silence, Jeff's anger had
+evaporated.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right, pardner.... Only you oughtn't never to talk that way
+about a girl—even for a joke. That's no good kind of a joke. Men, now,
+that's different. See here, I'll give you an order to a fellow in El
+Paso—Hibler—to pay for your horses and your gun. Here's your belt,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>Charley shook his head impatiently. "I don't want any money. Settle
+with Pappy for the horses. I won't take this one back. Keep the belt.
+You may want it to beat me with sometime. What are you going to do,
+Jeff? Aren't you ever coming back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure I'll come back—if only to see Griffith again. I'll write to John
+Wesley Pringle—he's my mainest side pardner—and sick him on to find
+out who robbed that bank—to prove it, rather. I just about almost
+nearly know who it was. Old Wes'll straighten things out a-flying. I'll
+be back in no time. I got to come back, Charley!"</p>
+
+<p>The river was in sight. The stars were fading; there was a flush in the
+east, a smell of dawn in the air.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeff, I wish you'd do something for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, Charley. What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you'd give me that little turquoise horse to remember you by."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff was silent for a little. He had framed out another plan for the
+little eohippus—namely, to give him to Miss Ellinor. He sighed; but he
+owed a good deal to Charley.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Charley. Take good care of him—he's a lucky little horse.
+I think a heap of him. Here we are!"</p>
+
+<p>The trees were distinct in the growing light. Jeff rode into the river;
+the muddy water swirled about his horse's knees. He halted for parting;
+Gibson rode in beside him. Jeff took the precious Alice book from
+his bosom, put it in the crown of his miner's cap and jammed the cap
+tightly on his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Better change your mind, Charley. Come along. We'll rout somebody out
+and order a dish of stewed eggs.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">The farther off from England the nearer 'tis to France;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Will you—won't you——"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"'No, I won't! I told you once!'" snapped the beloved snail.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's the little eohippus horse then." As Charley took it Jeff wrung
+his hand. "By George, I've got to change my notion of Arcadia people.
+If there's many like you and Griffith, Arcadia's going to crowd the
+map!... Well—so long!"</p>
+
+<p>"It looks awful wide, Jeff!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll be all right—swim it myself if the horse plays out—and
+if I don't have no cramps, as I might, of course, after this ride.
+Well—here goes nothin'! Take care of the little horse. I hope he
+brings you good luck!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well—so long, then!"</p>
+
+<p>Bransford rode into the muddy waters. They came to the horse's breast,
+his neck; he plunged in, sank, rose, and was borne away down the swift
+current, breasting the flood stoutly—and so went quartering across
+to the farther bank. It took a long time. It was quite light when
+the horse found footing on a sandbar half a mile below, rested, and
+splashed whitely through the shallows to the bank. Gibson swung his
+sombrero. Jeff waved his hand, rode to the fringing bushes, and was
+gone.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE LAND OF AFTERNOON</h3>
+
+<p class="ph2">"Dreaming once more love's old sad dream divine."</p>
+
+
+<p>Los Baños de Santa Eulalia Del Norte, otherwise known as Mud Springs,
+is a Mexican hamlet with one street of about the same length. Los Baños
+and Co. lies in a loop of the Rio Grande, half of a long day from El
+Paso, in mere miles; otherwise a contemporary of Damascus and Arpad.</p>
+
+<p>Thither, mindful of the hot springs which supply the preliminaries of
+the name, Mr. Bransford made his way: mindful too, of sturdy old Don
+Francisco, a friend twice bound by ancient service given and returned.</p>
+
+<p>He climbed the slow long ridges to the high <i>mesa</i>: for the river bent
+here in a long ox-bow, where a bold promontory shouldered far out to
+bar the way: weary miles were to be saved by crossing the neck of this
+ox-bow, and the tough horse tired and lagged.</p>
+
+<p>The slow sun rose as he reached the Rim. It showed the wide expanse
+of desert behind him, flooded with trembling light; eastward, beyond
+the river, the buttressed and fantastic peaks of Fray Cristobal; their
+jutting shadows streaming into the gulf beyond, athwart the silvery
+ribbon of gleaming water, twining in mazy loops across the valley
+floor: it showed the black Rim at his feet, a frowning level wall of
+lava cliff, where the plain broke abruptly into the chasm beneath;
+the iron desolation of the steep sides, boulder-strewn, savage and
+forbidding:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"<i>A land of old up-heaven from the abyss.</i>"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Long since, there had been a flourishing Mexican town in the valley.
+A wagonroad had painfully climbed a long ridge to the Rim, twisting,
+doubling, turning, clinging hazardously to the hillside, its outer
+edge a wall built up with stone, till it came to the shoulder under
+the tremendous barrier. From there it turned northward, paralleling
+the Rim in mile-long curve above a deep gorge; turning, in a last
+desperate climb, to a solitary gateway in the black wall, torn out
+by flood-waters through slow centuries. Smallpox had smitten the
+people; the treacherous river had devastated the fertile valley, and,
+subsiding, left the rich fields a waste of sand. The town was long
+deserted; the disused road was gullied and torn by flood, the soil
+washed away, leaving a heaped and crumbled track of tangled stone. But
+it was the only practicable way as far as the sand-hills, and Jeff led
+his horse down the ruined path, with many a turning back and scrambling
+detour.</p>
+
+<p>The shadows of the eastern hills drew back before him as he reached the
+sand-dunes. When he rode through the silent streets of what had been
+Alamocita, the sun peered over Fray Cristobal, gilding the crumbling
+walls, where love and laughter had made music, where youth and hope
+and happiness had been.... Silent now and deserted, given over to
+lizard and bat and owl, the smiling gardens choked with sand and grass,
+springing with <i>mesquite</i> and <i>tornillo</i>; a few fruit trees, gnarled
+and tangled, drooping for days departed, when young mothers sang low
+lullaby beneath their branches.... Passed away and forgotten—hopes and
+fears, tears and smiles, birth and death, joy and sorrow, hatred and
+sin and shame, falsehood and truth and courage and love. The sun shone
+cheerfully on these gray ruins—as it has shone on a thousand such, and
+will shine.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff turned down the river, past the broken <i>acequias</i>, to where
+a massive spur of basaltic rock had turned the fury of the floods
+and spared a few fields. In this sheltered cove dwelt Don Francisco
+Escobar in true pastoral and patriarchal manner; his stalwart sons
+and daughters, with their sons and daughters in turn, in clustering
+<i>adobes</i> around him: for neighbors, the allied family of Gonzales y
+Ortega.</p>
+
+<p>A cheerful settlement, this of Los Baños, nestling at the foot of the
+friendly rampart, sheltered alike from flood and wind. South and west
+the close black Rim walled the horizon, the fantasy of Fray Cristobal
+closed in the narrow east: but northward, beyond the low sand-hills and
+the blue heat-haze, the high peaks of Organ, Guadalupe and Rainbow swam
+across the sleepy air, far and soft and dim.</p>
+
+<p>In their fields the <i>gente</i> of Gonzales y Ortega and of Escobar raised
+ample crops of alfalfa, wheat, corn, <i>frijoles</i> and <i>chili</i>, with
+orchard, vineyard and garden. Their cows, sheep and goats grazed the
+foothills between river and Rim, watched by the young men or boys,
+penned nightly in the great corrals in the old Spanish fashion; as if
+the Moor still swooped and forayed. Their horses roamed the hills at
+will, only a few being kept in the alfalfa pasture. They ground their
+own grain, tanned their cow-hides at home. Mattress and pillow were
+wool of their raising, their blankets and cloth their own weave. There
+were granaries, a wine-press, a forge, a cumbrous stone mill, a great
+<i>adobe</i> oven like a monstrous bee-hive.</p>
+
+<p>Once a year their oxen drew the great high-sided wagons up the sandy
+road to El Paso, and returned with the year's marketing—salt, axes,
+iron and steel, powder and lead, bolts of white domestic or <i>manta</i>
+for sheets and shirtings, matches, tea, coffee, tobacco and sugar.
+Perhaps, if the saints had been kind, there were a few ribbons,
+trinkets or brightly colored prints of Joseph and Virgin and Child, St.
+John the Beloved, The Annunciation, The Children and Christ; perhaps an
+American rifle or a plow. But, for the most part, they held not with
+innovations; plowed, sowed and reaped as their fathers did, threshing
+with oxen or goats.</p>
+
+<p>The women sewed by hand, cooked on fireplaces; or, better still, in
+the open air under the trees, with few and simple utensils. The family
+ate from whitest and cleanest of sheepskins spread on the floor.
+But, the walls were snowy with whitewash, the earthen floors smooth
+and clean, the coarse linen fresh and white. The scant furniture of
+the rooms—a pine bed, a chair or two, a mirror, a brass candlestick
+(with home-made candles), a cheap print on the wall, a great chest for
+clothes, blankets and simple treasures, the bright fire in the cozy
+fireplace—all combined to give an indescribable air of cheerfulness,
+of homely comfort and of rest. This quiet corner, where people still
+lived as simply as when Abraham went up from Ur of the Chaldees, in
+the spring-time of the world, held, for seeing eyes, an incommunicable
+charm.</p>
+
+<p>When Jeff came at last to Casa Escobar, the cattle were already on the
+hills, the pigs and chickens far afield. Don Francisco, white-haired,
+erect, welcomed him eagerly, indeed, but with stately courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it thou indeed, my son? Now, my old eyes are gladdened this day.
+Enter, then, <i>amigo mio</i>, thrice-welcome—the house is thine in very
+truth. Nay, the young men shall care for thy horse."</p>
+
+<p>He raised his voice. Three tall sons, Abran, Zenobio, Donociano, came
+at the summons, gave Bransford grave greeting, and stood to await their
+father's commands. Fathers of families themselves, they presumed not to
+sit unbidden, to join in the conversation, or to loiter.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast was served presently, in high state, on the table reserved
+for honored guests. Savory venison, chile, fish, eggs, <i>tortillas</i>,
+<i>etole</i>, <i>enchiladas</i>, cream and steaming coffee—such was the fare.
+Don Francisco sat gravely by to bear him company, while a silently
+hovering damsel anticipated every need.</p>
+
+<p>Thence, when his host could urge no more upon him, to the deep
+shading cottonwoods. Wine was brought and the "makings" of
+cigarettes—corn-husks, handcut; a great jar of tobacco; and a brazier
+of mesquite embers. At a little distance women washed, wove or
+sewed; the young men made buckskin, fashioned quirts, whips, ropes,
+bridle-reins, tie-straps, hobbles, pack-sacks and <i>chaparejos</i> of
+raw-hide; made cinches of horse-hair; wrought ox-yokes, plow-beams and
+other things needful for their simple husbandry.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Don Francisco entertained his guest with grave and leisurely
+recital of the year's annals. Mateo, son of Sebastian, had slain a
+great bear in the Pass of All the Winds; Alicia, daughter of their
+eldest, was wed with young Roman de la O, of Cañada Nogales, to the
+much healing of feud and ancient hatred; Diego, son of Eusebio, was
+proving a bold and fearless rider of wild horses, with reason, as
+behooved his father's son; he had carried away the <i>gallo</i> at the
+<i>Fiesta de San Juan</i>, with the fleet dun colt "creased" from the wild
+bunch at Quemado; the herds had grown, the crops prospered, all sorrow
+passed them by, through the intercession of the blessed saints.</p>
+
+<p>The year's trophies were brought. He fingered with simple pride the
+great pelt of the silver-tip. Antlers there were and lion-skins,
+gleaming prisms of quartz, flint arrowheads and agates brought in by
+the shepherds, the costly Navajo blanket won by the fleet-limbed dun at
+Cañada races.</p>
+
+<p>Hither came presently another visitor—Florentino, breaker of wild
+horses, despite his fifty years; wizened and withered and small,
+merry and cheerful, singer of forgotten folk-songs; chanting, even
+as he came, the song of Macario Romero—Macario, riding joyous and
+light-hearted, spite of warning, omen and sign, love-lured to doom and
+death.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"'Concedame una licencia</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Voy á ir á ver á me Chata.'</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Dice Macario Romero,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Parando en los estribos:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">'Madre, pues, esto voy á ver,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Si todos son mis amigos!'"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And so, listening, weary and outworn, Jeff fell asleep.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Observe now, how Nature insists upon averages. Mr. Jeff Bransford was,
+as has been seen, an energetic man; but outraged nerves will have their
+revenge. After making proper amends to his damaged eye, Jeff's remnant
+of energy kept up long enough to dispatch young Tomas Escobar y Mendoza
+to El Paso with a message to Hibler: which message enjoined Hibler at
+once to carry tidings to John Wesley Pringle, somewhere in Chihuahua,
+asking him kindly to set right what Arcadian times were out of joint,
+as he, Jeff, felt the climate of Old Mexico more favorable for his
+throat trouble than that of New Mexico; with a postscript asking Hibler
+for money by bearer. And young Tomas was instructed to buy, at Juarez,
+a complete outfit of clothing for Jeff, including a gun.</p>
+
+<p>This done, the reaction set in—aided, perhaps, by the enervating
+lassitude of the hot baths and the sleepy atmosphere of that forgotten
+village. Jeff spent the better part of a week asleep, or half awake
+at best. He had pleasant dreams, too. One—perhaps the best dream
+of all—was that on their wedding trip they should follow again the
+devious line of his flight from Arcadia. That would need a prairie
+schooner—no, a prairie steamboat—a prairie yacht! He would tell her
+all the hideous details—show her the mine, the camp of the besiegers,
+the ambuscade on the road. And if he could have Ellinor meet Griffith
+and Gibson for a crowning touch!</p>
+
+<p>After the strenuous violence of hand-strokes, here was a drowsy and
+peaceful time. The wine of that land was good, the shade pleasant,
+the Alician philosophy more delightful than of yore; he had all the
+accessories, but one, of an earthly paradise.</p>
+
+<p>Man is ungrateful. Jeff was a man; neglectful of present bounties, his
+dreaming thoughts were all of the absent accessory and of a time when
+that absence should be no more, nor paradise be empty.</p>
+
+<p>Life, like the Gryphon's classical master, had taught him Laughter
+and Grief. He turned now the forgotten pages of the book of his
+years. Enough black pages were there; as you will know well, having
+yourself searched old records before now, with tears. He cast up that
+long account—the wasted lendings, the outlawed debts, the dishonored
+promises, the talents of his stewardship, unprofitable and brought
+to naught; set down—how gladly!—the items on the credit side. So
+men have set the good upon one side and the evil on the other since
+Crusoe's day, and before; against the time when the Great Accountant,
+Whose values are not ours, shall strike a final balance.</p>
+
+<p>Take that book at your elbow—yes, either one; it doesn't matter. Now
+turn to where the hero first discovers his frightful condition—long
+after it has become neighborhood property.... He bent his head in
+humility. He was not worthy of her!... Something like that? Those may
+not be the precise words; but he groaned. He always groans. By-the-way,
+how this man-saying must amuse womankind! Yes, and they actually say it
+too—real, live, flesh-and-blood men. Who was it said life was a poor
+imitation of literature? Happily, either these people are insincere or
+they reconsider the matter—else what should we do for families?</p>
+
+<p>It is to be said that Jeff Bransford lacked this becoming delicacy.
+If he groaned he swore also; if he decided that Miss Ellinor Hoffman
+deserved a better man than he was, he also highly resolved that she
+should not have him.</p>
+
+<p>"For, after all, you know," said Jeff to Alice:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"I'm sure he's nothing extra—a quiet man and plain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And modest—though there isn't much of which he could be vain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And had I mind to chant his praise, this were the kindest line—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Somehow, she loves him dearly—this little love of mine!"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>TWENTIETH CENTURY</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"And there that hulking Prejudice</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sat all across the road.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">
+
+<hr class="tb"></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">I took my hat, I took my coat,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My load I settled fair,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I approached that awful incubus</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With an absent-minded air—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And I walked directly through him</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As if he wasn't there!"</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent10">—<i>An Obstacle</i>:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent10"><span class="smcap">Charlotte Perkins Stetson</span>.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Johnny Dines rode with a pleasant jingle down the shady street of Los
+Baños de Santa Eulalia del Norte. His saddle was new, carven, wrought
+with silver; his bridle shone as the sun, his spurs as bright stars;
+he shed music from his feet. Jeff saw him turn to Casa Escobar: apple
+blossoms made a fragrant lane for him. He paused at Jeff's tree.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Alto alli!</i>" said Johnny. The words, as sharp command, can be managed
+in two brisk syllables. The sound is then: "<i>Altwai!</i>" It is a crisp
+and startling sound, and the sense of it in our idiom is: "Hands up!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff had been taking a late breakfast <i>al fresco</i>; he made glad room on
+his bench.</p>
+
+<p>"Light, stranger, and look at your saddle! Pretty slick saddle, too.
+Guess your playmates must 'a' went home talking to themselves last
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"They're going to kill a maverick for you at Arcadia and give a
+barbecue," said Johnny. The cult of <i>nil admirari</i> reaches its highest
+pitch of prosperity in the cow-countries, and Johnny knew that it was
+for him to broach tidings unasked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that reminds me—how's old Lars Porsena?" said Jeff, now free to
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"Him? He's all right," said Johnny casually. "Goin' to marry one or
+more of the nurses. They're holdin' elimination contests now."</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Johnny, when you go back, I wish you'd tell him I didn't do it.
+Cross my heart and hope to die if I did!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he knows it wasn't you!" said Johnny.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Evidence was pretty strong—pretty strong! Who was it then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Lake himself—the old hog!"</p>
+
+<p>"If Lake keeps on like this he's going to have people down on him,"
+said Jeff. "Who did the holmesing—John Wesley?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, John Wesley! John Wesley!" said Dines scornfully. "You think the
+sun rises and sets in old John Wesley Pringle. Naw; he didn't get back
+till it was all over. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little
+hatchet!"</p>
+
+<p>"Must have had it sharpened up!" said Jeff. "Tell it to me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, there isn't much to tell," said Dines, suddenly modest. "Come to
+think of it, I had right considerable help. There was a young college
+chap—he first put it into my head that it wasn't you."</p>
+
+<p>"That would be the devil?" said Jeff, ignoring the insult.</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. Name's White—and so's he: Billy White, S. M. and G. P."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't just remember them degrees," said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, keep still and you'll hear more. They stand for Some Man and Good
+People. Well, as I was a-saying, Billy he seemed to think it wasn't
+you. He stuck to it that Buttinski—that's what he calls you—was in a
+garden just when the bank was robbed."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny contemplated the apple tree over his head. It was a wandering
+and sober glance, but a muscle twitched in his cheek, and he made no
+further explanation about the garden.</p>
+
+<p>"And then I remembered about Nigger Babe throwin' you off, and I began
+to think maybe you didn't crack the safe after all. And there was some
+other things—little things—that made Billy and Jimmy Phillips—he was
+takin' cards in the game too—made 'em think maybe it was Lake; but it
+wasn't no proof—not to say proof. And there's where I come in."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Jeff, as Johnny paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Simple enough, once you knowed how," said Johnny modestly. "I'd been
+reading lots of them detective books—Sherlock Holmes and all them
+fellows. I got Billy to have his folks toll Lake's sister away for the
+night, so she wouldn't be scared. Then me and Billy and Jimmy Phillips
+and Monte, we broke in and blowed up Lake's private safe. No trouble at
+all. Since the bank-robbin' every one had been tellin' round just how
+it ought to be done—crackin' safes. Funny how a fellow picks up little
+scraps of useful knowledge like that—things you'd think he'd remember
+might come in handy most any time—and then forgets all about 'em. I
+wrote it down this time. Won't forget it again."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Jeff again.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. And there was the nice money—all the notes and all of the
+gold he could tote."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff's eye wandered to the new saddle.</p>
+
+<p>"I kept some of the yellow stuff as a souvenir—half a quart, or maybe
+a pint," said Johnny. "I don't want no reward for doin' a good deed....
+And that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"Lake is a long, ugly word," said Jeff thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you say?" prompted Johnny.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Jeff. "You showed marvelous
+penetration—marvelous! But say, Johnny, if the money hadn't been there
+wouldn't that have been awkward?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Billy was pretty sure Lake was the man. And we figured he hadn't
+bothered to move it—you being the goat that way. What made you be
+a goat, Jeff? That whole performance was the most idiotic break I
+ever knew a grown-up man to get off. I knew you were not strictly
+accountable, but why didn't you say, 'Judge, your Honor, sir, at the
+time the bank was being robbed I was in a garden with a young lady,
+talking about the hereafter, the here and the heretofore?'"</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, what made your Billy think it was Lake?"</p>
+
+<p>Johnny told him, in detail.</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty good article of plain thinking, wasn't it?" he concluded. "Yet
+he mightn't have got started on the right track at all if he hadn't had
+the straight tip about your bein' in a garden." Johnny's eye reverted
+to the apple tree. "Lake found your noseguard, you know, where you
+left it. I reckon maybe he saw you leave it there.—Say, Jeff! Lake's
+grandfather must have been a white man. Anyhow, he's got one decent
+drop of blood in him, from somewhere. For when we arrested him, he
+didn't say a word about the garden. That was rather a good stunt, I
+think. Bully for Lake, just once!"</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are! And, Mr. J. Dines, I've been thinking——" Jeff began.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny glanced at him anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"——and I've about come to the conclusion that we're some narrow
+contracted and bigoted on Rainbow. We don't know it all. We ain't the
+only pebble. From what I've seen of these Arcadia men they seem to be
+pretty good stuff—and like as not it's just the same way all along the
+beach. There's your Mr. White, and Griffith, and Gibson—did I tell you
+about Gibson?"</p>
+
+<p>Johnny flashed a brilliant smile. His smiles always looked larger than
+they really were, because Johnny was a very small man.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw Griffith and he gave me his version—several times. He's real
+upset, Griffith.... Last time he told me, he leaned up against my neck
+and wept because there was only ten commandments!"</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't see Gibson, did you? You know him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nope. Pappy picked him up—or he picked Pappy up, rather. Hasn't
+been seen since. I guess Gibby, old boy, has gone to the wild bunch.
+He wouldn't suspect you of bein' innocent, and he dreamed he dwelt in
+marble walls, makin' shoes for the state. So he gets cold feet and he
+just naturally evaporates—good night!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—he said he was going to hike out, or something to that effect,"
+responded Jeff absently—the fact being that he was not thinking of
+Gibson, at all, but was pondering deeply upon Miss Ellinor Hoffman. Had
+she gone to New York according to the original plan? It did not seem
+probable. Her face stood out before him—bright, vivid, sparkling, as
+he had seen her last, in the court room of Arcadia. Good heavens! Was
+that only a week ago? Seven days? It seemed seven years!—No—she had
+not gone—at least, certainly not until she was sure that he, Jeff, had
+made good his escape. Then, perhaps, she might have gone. Perhaps her
+mother had made her go. Oh, well!—New York wasn't far, as he had told
+her that first wonderful day on Rainbow Rim. What a marvelous day that
+was!</p>
+
+<p>Jeff was suddenly struck with the thought that he had never seen
+Ellinor's mother. Great Scott! She had a father, too! How annoying! He
+meditated upon this unpleasant theme for a space. Then, as if groping
+in a dark room, he had suddenly turned on the light, his thought
+changed to—<i>What a girl! Ah, what a wonderful girl! Where is she?</i></p>
+
+<p>Looking up, Jeff became once more aware of Johnny Dines, leg curled
+around the horn of the new saddle, elbow on knee, cheek on hand,
+contemplating his poor friend with benevolent pity. And then Jeff knew
+that he could make no queries of Johnny Dines.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny spake soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are in North America. This is the Twentieth Century. Your name
+is Bransford. That round bright object is the sun. This direction is
+East. This way is called 'up.' This is a stream of water that you see.
+It is called the Rio River Grand Big. We are advertised by our loving
+friends. I cannot sing the old songs. There's a reason. Two of a kind
+flock together. Never trump your pardner's ace. It's a wise child that
+dreads the fire. Wake up! Come out of it! Change cars!"</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to kill you," said Jeff. "Now giggle, you idiot, and make
+everybody hate you!—Wait till I say <i>Adios</i> to my old compadre and the
+rest of the Escobar <i>gente</i> and I'll side you to El Paso."</p>
+
+<p>"Not I. Little Johnny, he'll make San Elizario ferry by noon and Helm's
+by dark. Thought maybe so you'd be going along."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no," said Jeff uneasily. "I guess maybe I'll go up to El Paso and
+june around a spell."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well—just as you say! Such bein' the case, I'll be jogging."</p>
+
+<p>"Better wait till after dinner—I'll square it with Don Francisco
+if ... anything's missing."</p>
+
+<p>"No—that makes too long a jaunt for this afternoon. Me for San
+Elizario. So long!"</p>
+
+<p>But beyond the first <i>acequia</i> he turned and rode back.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny thing, Jeff! Remember me telling you about a girl I saw on
+Mayhill, the day Nigger Babe throwed you off? Now, what was that girl's
+name?—I've forgotten again. Oh, yes!—Hoffman—Miss Ellinor Hoffman.
+Well—she's at Arcadia still. The mother lady was all for going back to
+New York—but, no, sir! Girl says she's twenty-one, likes Arcadia, and
+she's going to stay a spell. Leastwise, so I hear."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>will</i> kill you!" said Jeff. "Here, wait till I saddle my nag and
+say good-by."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Beyond San Elizario, as they climbed the Pass of All the Winds, the two
+friends halted to breathe their horses.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeff," said Johnny, rather soberly, "you can kick me after I say my
+little piece—I'll think poorly of you if you don't—but ain't you
+making maybe a mistake? That girl, now—nice girl, and all that—but
+that girl's got money, Jeff."</p>
+
+<p>"I hate a fool worse than a knave, any day in the week," said Jeff:
+"and the man that would let money keep him from the only girl—why,
+Johnny, he's so much more of a fool than the other fellow is a
+scoundrel——"</p>
+
+<p>"I get you!" said Johnny. "You mean that a submarine boat is better
+built for roping steers than a mogul engine is skilful at painting
+steeples, and you wonder if you can't get a fresh horse somewhere and
+go on through to Arcadia to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something like that," admitted Jeff. "Besides," he added lightly,
+"while I'd like that girl just as well if I didn't have a cent—why, as
+it happens, I'm pretty well fixed, myself. I've got money to throw at
+the little dicky-birds—all kinds of money. Got a fifty-one-per-cent
+interest in a copper mine over in Harqua Hala that's been payin' me all
+the way from ten to five thousand clear per each and every year for the
+last seven years, besides what I pay a lad for lookout to keep anybody
+but himself from stealing any of it. He's been buyin' real estate for
+me in Los Angeles lately."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny's jaw dropped in unaffected amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"All this while? Before you and Leo hit Rainbow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" said Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"And you workin' for forty a month and stealin' your own beef?—then
+saving up and buying your little old brand along with Beebe and Leo and
+old Wes', joggin' along, workin' like a yaller dog with fleas?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Wasn't I having a heap of fun? Where can I see any better
+time than I had here, or find better friends? Money's no good by
+itself. I haven't drawn a dollar from Arizona since I left. It was fun
+to make the mine go round at first; but when it got so it'd work I
+looked for something else more amusing."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think you'd want to travel, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"Travel?" echoed Jeff. "Travel? Why, you damn fool, I'm here now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you stay here, if you marry her, Jeff?"</p>
+
+<p>"So you've no objection to make, if I've got a few dollars? That
+squares everything all right, does it? Not a yeep of protest from
+you now? See here, you everlasting fool! I'm just the same man I was
+fifteen minutes ago when you thought I didn't have any money. If I'm
+fit for her now, I was then. If I wasn't good enough then, I'm not good
+enough now."</p>
+
+<p>"But I wasn't thinking of her—I was thinking of—how it would look."</p>
+
+<p>"Look? Who cares how it looks? Just a silly prejudice! 'They say—what
+say they—let them say!' Johnny, maybe I was just stringin' you. If I
+was lying about the money—how about it then? Changed your mind again?"</p>
+
+<p>"You wasn't lyin', was you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shan't tell you! It doesn't really make any difference, anyhow."</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<h3>AT THE RAINBOW'S END</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Helen's lips are drifting dust;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Ilion is consumed with rust;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">All the galleons of Greece</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Drink the ocean's dreamless peace;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Lost was Solomon's purple show</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Restless centuries ago;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Stately empires wax and wane—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Babylon, Barbary and Spain—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Only one thing, undefaced,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">Lasts, though all the worlds lie waste</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And the heavens are overturned,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">—Dear, how long ago we learned!"</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">—<span class="smcap">Frederick Lawrence Knowles.</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Starlit and moonlight leagues, the slow, fresh dawn; in the cool of
+the morning, Bransford came to the crest of the ground-swell known as
+Frenchman's Ridge, and saw low-lying Arcadia dim against the north, a
+toy town huddling close to the shelter of Rainbow Range; he splashed
+through the shallow waters of Alamo, failing to a trickle before it
+sank in the desert sands; and so came at last to the moat of Arcadia.
+With what joyous and eager-choking heart-beat you may well guess: not
+the needlessness of those swift pulses or of that joy. For Ellinor was
+not there. With Mrs. Hoffman, she had gone to visit the Sutherlands at
+Rainbow's End. And Jeff could not go on. Arcadia rose to greet him in
+impromptu Roman holiday.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Bransford has never known clearly what chanced on that awful day.
+There is a jumbled, whirling memory of endless kaleidoscopic troops of
+joyful Arcadians: Billy White, Monte, Jimmy, Clarke, the grim-smiling
+sheriff, the judge. It was dimly borne upon him by due or both of the
+two last, that there were yet certain formalities to be observed in the
+matter of his escape from custody of the Law and of the horse he had
+borrowed from the court house square. Indeed, it seemed to Jeff, in a
+hazy afterthought, that perhaps the sheriff had arrested him again. If
+so, it had slipped Jeff's mind, swallowed up in a gruesome horror of
+congratulations, hand-shakings, back-slappings, badinage and questions;
+heaped on a hero heartsick, dazed and dumb. Pleading weariness, he tore
+himself away at last, almost by violence, and flung himself down in a
+darkened bedroom of the Arcadian Atalanta.</p>
+
+<p>One thing was clear. Headlight was there, Aforesaid Smith, Madison:
+but his nearest friends, Pringle, Beebe and Ballinger, though they had
+hasted back to Arcadia to fight Jeff's battles, were ostentatiously
+absent from his hollow and hateful triumph: Johnny Dines had pointedly
+refused to share his night ride from Helm's: and Jeff knew why, sadly
+enough. The gods take pay for the goods they give: and now that goodly
+fellowship was broken. The thought clung fast: it haunted his tossing
+and troubled slumbers, where Ellinor came through a sunset glow,
+swift-footed to meet him: where his friends rode slow and silent into
+the glimmering dusk, smaller and smaller, black against the sky.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The Sutherland place made an outer corner of Rainbow's End, bowered
+about by a double row of close and interlaced cottonwoods on two sides,
+by vigorous orchards on the other two.</p>
+
+<p>The house had once been a one-storied adobe, heroically proportioned,
+thick-walled, cool against summer, warm in what went by the name
+of winter. The old-time princely hospitality was unchanged, but
+Sutherland had bought lots in Arcadia of early days; and now, the
+old gray walls of the house were smooth with creamy stucco, wrought
+of gypsum from the White Sands; the windows were widened and there
+was a superimposed story, overhanging, wide and low. The gables were
+double-windowed, shingled and stained nut-brown, the gently sloping
+roof shingled, dormered and soft green: the overflow projecting to
+broad verandas on either side, very like an umbrella: a bungalow with
+two birthdays—1866:1896.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor Hoffman had deserted veranda, rocking-chair and hammock.
+With a sewing basket beside her, she sat on a pine bench under a
+cottonwood of 1867, ostensibly basting together a kimono tinted like
+a dripping sea shell, and faced with peach-blossom. . The work went
+slowly. Her seat was at the desert corner of the homestead which was
+itself the desert outpost of a desert town: and her blood stirred to
+these splendid horizons. The mysterious desert scoffed and questioned,
+drew her with promise of strange joys and strange griefs. The iron-hard
+mountains beckoned and challenged from afar, wove her their spells of
+wavering lights and shadows; the misty warp and woof of them shifting
+to swift fantastic hues of trembling rose and blue and violet,
+half-veiling, half-revealing, steeps unguessed and dreamed-of sheltered
+valleys—and all the myriad-voice of moaning waste and world-rimming
+hill cried "Come!"</p>
+
+<p>Faint, fitful undertone of drowsy chords, far pealing of elfin bells;
+that was pulsing of busy <i>acequias</i>, tinkling of mimic waterfalls. The
+clean breath of the desert crooned by, bearing a grateful fragrance
+of apple-blossoms near; it rippled the deepest green of alfalfa to
+undulating sheen of purple and flashing gold.</p>
+
+<p>The broad fields were dwarfed to play-garden prettiness by the vastness
+of overwhelming desert, to right, to left, before; whose nearer
+blotches of black and gray and brown faded, far off, to a nameless
+shimmer, its silent leagues dwindling to immeasurable blur, merging
+indistinguishable in the burning sunset.</p>
+
+<p>"East by up," overguarding the oasis, the colossal bulk of Rainbow
+walled out the world with grim-tiered cliffs, cleft only by the
+deep-gashed gates of Rainbow Pass, where the swift river broke through
+to the rich fields of Rainbow's End, bringing fulfilment of the fabled
+pot of gold—or, unused, to shrink and fail and die in the thirsty sand.</p>
+
+<p>Below, the whilom channel wandered forlorn—Rainbow no longer, but Lost
+River—to a disconsolate delta, waterless save as infrequent floods
+found turbulent way to the Sink, when wild horse and antelope revisited
+their old haunts for the tender green luxury of these brief, belated
+springs.</p>
+
+<p>Incidentally, Miss Hoffman's outpost commanded a good view of Arcadia
+road, winding white through the black tar-brush. Had she looked,
+she might have seen a slow horseman, tiny on the bare plain below
+the tar-brush, larger as he climbed the gentle slope along that
+white-winding road.</p>
+
+<p>But she bent industrious to her work, smiling to herself, half-singing,
+half-humming a foolish and lilty little tune:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"A tisket, a tasket—a green and yellow basket;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I wrote a letter to my love and on the road I lost it—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I crissed it, I crossed it—I locked it in a casket;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">I missed it, I lost it——"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And here Miss Hoffman did an unaccountable thing. Wise Penelope
+unraveled by night the work she wove by day. Like her in this, Miss
+Ellinor Hoffman now placidly snipped and ripped the basting threads,
+unraveled them patiently, and set to work afresh.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Now, there's no such thing as a Ginko tree;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">There never was—though there ought to be.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">And 'tis also true, though most absurd,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">There's no such thing as a Wallabye bird!"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Miss Hoffman was all in white, with a white middy blouse trimmed in
+scarlet, a scarlet ribbon in her dark hair: a fine-linked gold chain
+showed at her neck. A very pretty picture she made, cool and fresh
+against the deep shade and the green—but of course she did not know
+it. She held the shaping kimono at arm's length, admiring the delicate
+color, and fell to work again.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">"Oh, the jolly miller, he lives by himself!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">As the wheel rolls around he gathers in his pelf,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">A hand in the hopper and another in the bag—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">As the wheel rolls around he calls out, '<i>Grab!</i>'"</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>So intent and preoccupied was she, that she did not hear the
+approaching horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" Miss Hoffman jumped, dropping the long-suffering kimono. A
+horseman, with bared head, had reined up in the shaded road alongside.
+"How silly of me not to hear you coming! If you're looking for Mr.
+Sutherland, he's not here—Mr. David Sutherland, that is. But Mr. Henry
+Sutherland is here—or was awhile ago—maybe half an hour since. He was
+trying to get up a set of tennis. Perhaps they're playing—over there
+on the other side of the house. And yet, if they were there, we'd hear
+them laughing—don't you think?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bransford—for it was Mr. Bransford, and he was all dressed in
+clothes—waited with extreme patience for the conclusion of these
+feverish and hurried remarks.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm not looking for Sutherland. I'm looking for you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Ellinor again. Then, after a long and deliberate survey,
+the light of recognition dawned slowly in her eyes. "Oh, I <i>do</i> know
+you, don't I? To be sure I do! You're Mr. —— the gentleman I met on
+Rainbow Mountain, near Mayhill,—Mr.—ah yes—Bransford!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, so I am!" said Jeff, leaning on the saddle-horn. One half of Mr.
+Bransford wondered if he had not been making a fool of himself and
+taking a great deal for granted: the other half, though considerably
+alarmed, was not at all deceived.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Ellinor did not actually put her finger in the corner of her
+mouth—she merely looked as if she had. "Ah!—Won't you ... get down?"
+she said helplessly. "What a beautiful horse!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes—thank you—I believe I will."</p>
+
+<p>He left the beautiful horse to stand with dangling reins, and came over
+to the bench, silent and rather grim.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you sit down?" said Ellinor politely. "Fine day, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a wonderful day—a marvelous day—a stupendous day!" said this
+exasperated young man. "No, I guess it's not worth while to sit down. I
+just wanted to find out where you lived. I asked you once before, you
+know, and you didn't tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't I? Oh, do sit down! You look so grumpy—tired, I mean." Rather
+grudgingly, she swept the sewing basket from the bench to the grass.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff's eyes followed the action. He saw—if you call it seeing—the
+snipped threads on the grass, the yet unpicked bastings, white against
+the peach-pink facing; but he was a mere man, hardly-circumstanced, and
+these eloquent tidings were wasted upon his clumsy intellect: as had
+been the surprising good fortune of finding Miss Ellinor exactly where
+she was.</p>
+
+<p>Nerving himself with memory of the Quaker Lady at the masquerade—if,
+indeed, that had ever really happened—Jeff took the offered seat.</p>
+
+<p>The young lady matched two edges together, smoothed them, eyed the
+result critically, and plied a nimble needle. Then she turned clear and
+guileless eyes on her glooming seatmate.</p>
+
+<p>"You look older, somehow, than I thought you were, now that I
+remember," she observed, biting the thread. "You've been away, haven't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thought you were going away, yourself, so wild and fierce?" said Jeff,
+evading.—<i>Been away, indeed!</i></p>
+
+<p>Ellinor threaded her needle.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma <i>was</i> talking of going for a while," she said tranquilly. "But
+I'm rather glad we didn't. We're having a splendid time here—and Mr.
+White's going to take us to the White Sands next week. He'll be down
+to-morrow—at least I think so. He's fine! He took us to Mescalero
+early in the spring. And the young people here at Rainbow's End are
+simply delightful. You must meet some of them. Listen! There they
+are now—I hear them. They <i>are</i> playing tennis. Come on up and I'll
+introduce you. I can finish this thing any time." She tossed the poor
+kimono into the basket.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said this unhappy young man, rising. "I believe I'll go on back.
+Good-by, Miss Ell—Miss Hoffman. I wish you much happiness!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why—surely you're not going now? There are some nice girls here—they
+have heard so much of you, but they say they've never met you. Don't
+you want——"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff groaned, fumbling blindly at the bridle. "No, I wish I'd never
+seen a girl!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why-y! That's not very polite, is it?——Are—are you—mad to me?"
+said Ellinor in a meek little voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Mad? No," said Jeff bitterly. "I'm just coming to my senses. I've been
+dreaming. Now I've woke up!"</p>
+
+<p>"Angry, I mean, of course. I just say it that way—'are you mad to
+me'—sometimes—to be—to be—nice, Mr. Bransford!"</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't bother! Good-by!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I'll see you again——"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Never!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"——when you're not so—cross?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff reached for his stirrup.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well! If you're going to be huffy!. Never it is, then, by all
+means! No—wait! I must give you back your present."</p>
+
+<p>"I have never given you a present. Some other man, doubtless. You
+should keep a list!" said Jeff, with bitter and cutting scorn.</p>
+
+<p>The girl turned half away from him and hid her face with trembling
+hands; her shoulders shook with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Look the other way, sir! Turn your head! You shall have your present
+back and then if you're so anxious to go—Go!"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hoffman, I never gave you a present in my life," Jeff protested.</p>
+
+<p>"You did!" sobbed Ellinor. She turned upon him, stamping her foot. "You
+said, when you gave it to me, that you hoped it would bring me good
+luck. And you've forgotten! <i>You'd</i> better keep a list! Turn your head
+away, I tell you!" She sank down on the bench.</p>
+
+<p>Confused, mazed, bewildered, Jeff obeyed her.</p>
+
+<p>She sprang to her feet. She was laughing, blushing, glowing. In her
+hand was the little gold chain.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, you may look. Hold out your hand, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff's mind was whirling; he held out his hand. She laid a little gold
+locket in his palm. It was warm, that little locket.</p>
+
+<p>"I have never seen this locket before in my life!" gasped Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Open it!"</p>
+
+<p>He opened it. The little eohippus glared up at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellinor!—<i>Charley Gibson!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Tobe! Jeff!—<i>Jamie!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The little eohippus stared unwinking from the grass.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ph2">THE BEGINNING</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<div class="footnote">
+
+<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> "<i>Bull Durham.</i>"</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+
+<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> It is not intimated that Mr. Hubbard wrote this—merely
+that he printed it.—<span class="smcap">Author.</span></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<h3><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></h3>
+
+<p class="ph2">GOOD MEN AND TRUE</p>
+
+<p class="ph2"><i>Illustrated.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="ph2">The story of a brave and humorous American of to-day in deadly peril on
+our Texan frontier.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>"Ingeniously constructed, so clever, so full of genuine humor."—<i>New
+York Tribune.</i></p>
+
+<p>"As genuine a comedy of bloodshed as the literature of American
+manners can furnish."—<i>Living Age.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Very near to being a model of what such a story should be. About as
+good as it could be made."—<i>Springfield Republican.</i></p>
+
+<p>"Abounds in real humor and has a touch that is unmistakably
+Stevensonian."—<i>Philadelphia Press.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="ph2">HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br>
+PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK</p>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78657 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+
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+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #78657
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78657)