CHAPTER XXII.

TIM BENSON’S CLEVERNESS.

With Tim Benson at large a desperate fear lay on the town and on the trails.

Therefore, when Hank Elmore, stage driver, swung his horses round in front of the stage station, and bawled out, “All aboard fer Calumet Wells!” the response was disappointing.

A woman stepped out of the station, closely veiled, and carrying a large hand bag. Elmore dropped from his high seat and handed her into his vehicle. Both Elmore and the spectators knew that she was Miss Vera Bright.

“Nobody else wantin’ to take passage in this hyer hearse?” demanded Elmore, swinging round on his high-heeled boots. “Tim Benson ain’t goin’ to----”

A belated little man pushed his way hurriedly through the crowd.

“I’m going,” he said, and ran up to the coach.

“Hop inside, er on ther seat with ther driver, jest as ye like,” cried Elmore.

He swung on round, glowering at the crowd.

“As I was sayin’, thar ain’t no need fer ary gent hyer what is wantin’ to travel over this trail to-day to be afeard o’ Tim Benson. I know he’s a rantakerous gun man, what shoots first and does his explainin’ about it later; and that he has conducted more hold-ups than ary man whatever was in this town; but he’s got sense. He don’t hold up no stage when thar’s nothin’ to be gained by it. To-day I ain’t kerryin’ no gold dust, ner treasure o’ any kind--- ’ceptin’ the lady, gents, o’ course!--so, I know he won’t bother me. He allus knows when treasure is goin’ out, an’ when it ain’t; an’ he was never knowed to come fer an empty stage. How he knows when it kerries treasure I reckon is _his_ business. So--who’s goin’ over the trail with me ter-day?”

When nobody else showed a desire to accompany him, Hank Elmore climbed to his high seat, swung his long lash, yelled at the horses; and the stage bounced and jolted away over the cobblestone street, into the Calumet Wells trail.

“It’s gittin’ so that women have sure got more sand than the men!” was his mental comment, as he thought of his female passenger. “But I wonder why she’s pikin’ out of Blossom Range?”

The man who had entered the stage was apparently thinking the same thing; for he began to question her.

“I’ve seen you at the Casino,” he said, his tone one of flattery. “Good show they’ve got there! I understood that you was to stay another week.”

She had lifted her veil after entering the stage, and now gave him a close look.

“I don’t think I know you!” she said, as if that were a sufficient answer.

She observed that he was a small man, with a face clean shaven, and a quiet, even unassuming, manner.

“Oh, I reckon it ain’t any of my business,” he admitted, “if you put it that way. It’s no loss, if you don’t know me. But I’ve seen you a number of times. I s’pose you’re on your way to Calumet Wells?”

“Yes,” she said, but indifferently.

“And beyond that, of course; for that ain’t no proper stopping place.”

“Yes, I’m going beyond there.”

“To ’Frisco?”

“Perhaps.”

She drew back into her corner of the stage. But she found it hard to stay there, for the pitching vehicle now and then projected her out of it, once almost into the arms of the man before her.

“I--I beg your pardon!” she cried.

“Don’t mention it.” He laughed. “’Tain’t the first time I’ve had a lady throw herself at my head.”

“It’s a poor joke!” she declared. But she laughed, too.

He began to talk to her again, then; and presently began once more to ask questions.

“What you got in that big hand bag?” he queried.

“What should I have in it? My clothing, of course.”

Suddenly the expression of his face changed, and she knew him--knew that this little man was Tim Benson himself--Benson, the terrible desperado and road agent; and she knew she had nothing to expect from him in the way of favors.

She started up with a little cry, but a jerk of the stage threw her back against the cushions, while the rattle of the wheels over the rough trail drowned her cry so that it did not reach the driver.

“That’s all right,” said Benson; “I see you know now who I am!”

“Yes, but----”

“Just a little trick I have, by which I fool both my friends and my enemies. It’s easy, when one has the gift, and knows how. Just draw up a few facial lines here, and a few others down there, elevate your brows, squint your eyes a little--just a little!--change the appearance of your hair, and the thing is done. Nothing easier.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, hiding his face with them for the fraction of a second; then looked at her. The change was so complete that again she would not have recognized him.

“Easy enough, when you know how, eh? But it takes a lot of practice. I worked at that for years before I could get it down fine. But you needn’t be startled; and, particularly, I advise you that it would be foolish for you to call out to the driver. It could do you no good; and might cause his sudden demise.”

She sat staring at him, fascinated, terrified.

“Perhaps you’ll be willing to tell me why you’re leaving Blossom Range now?” he added.

Suddenly her eyes blazed.

“I thought _you_ were gone!” she gasped.

“And that, because of it, your work there was done?”

“Yes.”

She was silent a moment or so, still staring at him.

“Couldn’t we be friends hereafter?” he asked.

“No,” she told him, the fire in her eyes increasing. “You know what I have sworn to do?” Her voice trembled.

“Hand me over to the hangman, or kill me yourself.” He laughed. “It isn’t a nice resolve for a woman to make.”

“If I had known you were going on this stage!” she panted.

“Ah! My dear girl, in _that_ you have a lot of company. A great many people would have been glad to know that I was going on this stage.”

“They said you had left Blossom Range.”

“Of course, I wanted them to think that. I could have stayed longer, but I didn’t care to.”

“I know why.”

“Perhaps you can guess.”

“You knew that Buffalo Bill would get you, sooner or later.”

“Well, Cody can make himself very unpleasant, you know. He is out of town this morning; and I was told that he was out along the trail looking for me. He left Wild Bill in the town, though, to keep watch there. I saw Hickok in the street; but I’m sure he didn’t recognize me, any more than you did.”

He looked through the little window on that side.

“Hello!” he said. “This old hearse has been doing some tall traveling since we hit the trail. Either that, or we have found each other such pleasant company that time has fled faster than either of us was aware. I prefer to think it is the latter.”

He looked at her again, as if musing.

“I want to say to you that if at any time you are very much tempted to sing out your discovery of who I am to the driver, better not do it.”

He pulled a revolver from his pocket, and laid it on the seat by him, with the muzzle toward her.

“Oh, I’m not going to use it,” he told her, when she shrank back in evident fright. “Not unless Cody appears in the trail, as I’m half expecting him to do; then I may use it on him. It’s a funny thing, the way he has been able to keep tab on me. He couldn’t find me, yet he seemed to know all the time about what I was doing. It’s my opinion that he heard I meant to leave the town, and thought I would walk. If so, it was a foolish idea; as he ought to know I never walk when good riding can be had.”

He looked at the hand bag again, lying on the floor of the stage at the woman’s feet.

“Anything else in that but your clothing?”

“Nothing!”

Her voice was weak from fear of him.

“You seem to be scared. Well, you needn’t be! And I’ll say that it doesn’t become you, as a woman who has sworn against me all the terrible things you have. How are you ever going to carry them out, if you weaken like that?”

He reached over, and pulled the bag across to him.

Then he cocked his revolver on the seat beside him.

“This revolver will go off and do you irreparable damage,” he said, his voice hardening, “if you try to interfere with me now. You know, of course, that I’m a desperate man. Please don’t forget it.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Well, I’m going to change myself into a woman. See? If you’ll watch me, you’ll see how it’s done. Where is the key to this thing?”

She hesitated; then, trembling, she gave it to him.

He unlocked the bag and tumbled the contents out on the floor of the stage.

“I ought to have a mirror---- Ah, thanks, here is one!--and it would be better if I had a steady floor under me. Yet needs must, when the devil drives. I’m really expecting my friend Cody to appear now soon; and I must be ready for him.”

He chuckled, when he saw face powders and paints.

“Just in my line,” he said. “I thought you’d have them, and the clothing as well. In fact, I’m ready to confess right now that I knew you were to go out in this stage, and laid my plans accordingly.”

“You’re a--devil!” she gasped.

“Thanks, my dear, for the pretty compliment!”

He pulled a dress out of the heap, looked it over quickly, and began to put it on, over his clothing.

“Just the fit,” he told her. “I’m a small man, you see.”

He worked quickly.

“I see that you’ve got a roll of false hair that is beautifully blondined; I’ll thank you for the loan of it a while.”

She stared at him in terror; then, in fear, she gave it to him.

“You see,” he said, as he got to work, “that I wear my hair long; so I can use this little headgear of yours very readily. I’ll take those hair pins, too, if you please.”

He looked into the hand mirror that had been in her bag; then pinned the false hair in place.

Having completed this to his satisfaction, with glances now and then into the mirror, he took up her powder and puff, and began to dab the powder over his face.

“I took the precaution to have a clean shave before I started,” he explained airily, but quietly; “so this will work all right.”

The whip of the driver was cracking from the top of the stage, and the wheels were jarring heavily, so that the stage pitched about; yet the pitching did not seem to discommode him. He worked quickly and with skill. On his cheeks he put some of the paint which the woman had applied so liberally to her own; he looked at her sharply from time to time, then consulted the mirror.

To her amazement, she saw that he was transforming himself into a clever counterfeit resemblance--that his features were becoming marvelously like hers, even to the heavily laid on paint and powder. Besides, he had a wonderful facial ability, enabling him to twist his face into a fair counterfeit presentment of hers.

“I’ve sometimes thought I made my mistake in life in not going on the stage,” he remarked casually. “As you’ve had experience, you may be able to judge of that better than I can. This road-agent business is horribly dangerous, as you may guess; and it isn’t any fun to be breaking jail one week, and running away from Buffalo Bill the next; which you know has been my awful lot. Yet there is still a lot of fun in it, and whole worlds of keen excitement. And what is life, if it is barren of excitement?”

He had brought into the stage a small hand bag; which now, after he had made the desired changes in his appearance, he opened. From it he took the contents, and transferred them to her hand bag.

Again he looked out of the window; but though his eyes were turned on the landscape speeding past the stage, his ears were keen; for when in desperation she moved, with the wild intention of trying to get his revolver, he lifted it from the seat beside him, and pointed it at her.

“I wouldn’t try it, my dear!” he said, in his smooth voice.

He looked again at her. She had dropped once more back against the cushions, with a gasp of terror.

“You see, I should hate awfully to be compelled to shoot you!” he explained, in a cold-blooded tone that made her shudder. “It would be bad for both of us; and bad to muss up the stage, you know; it’s really a very good stage, and newly recushioned. So you understand how I feel about it.”

“You are a devil!” she gasped again.

“Only a man determined to protect himself at all hazards. I wanted to look out and see if we aren’t reaching the vicinity of Stag Mountain. In the cañon, just beyond it, as you doubtless know, there have been a lot of stage hold-ups lately; it may be we will meet trouble there. We are nearing the place right now. Our Jehu above seems to be laying on the whip a little more heavily, and I judge that he is thinking of that place, too. He has been through a good many of the hold-ups. I should think, by this time, he would be so used to them that if they did not happen he would miss them as a bit of fun.”

She did not answer.

“But I’ll say this. If we are held up there, you sit still right where you are. Otherwise, this revolver might go off in your face. I shouldn’t hold myself responsible for the consequences.”

The tall peak of Stag Mountain came into view.

Benson closed the woman’s hand bag and dropped the key into his pocket. Then he lifted the skirt of the dress he had put on over his clothing, and hid the revolver somewhere under it.

“We’re comin’ to ther place,” Hank Elmore bellowed to them, leaning down from his high perch so that they could hear him. “But I don’t reckon we’ll meet up with any trouble to-day.”

He cracked his whip over the backs of the horses, and the stage lurched and bounded into the gorge that swung past the hill, and on into the cañon noted for its many hold-ups.

As if to bolster his courage, he began to sing.