Part 8

"We were looking out for that gang of saddle thieves. Went up 'Pache Cañon. Along in the park we saw tracks where two shod horses turned down into Redgate, and we followed them up. One of 'em had been chasing a bunch of cattle--or so we thought, though we didn't notice that part very close, having no particular reason for it then. We'd looked through two-three bunches of cattle ourselves earlier, for Jody's stuff."

"Yes, and you had breakfast, likely--but what do I care? You get on with your story."

"Say, old man," said Hales in some exasperation, "if you don't want this man caught, I'm satisfied. It's nothing to me. I didn't know Forbes. If you want this friend of yours to get away, I'm willing to get down and stay all night. You're pretty overbearing with your little old shotgun."

He made as if to dismount.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," said Pete mildly. "Look at your friends, first. They're just as overborne as you are, likely--but you notice they are not making any complaints. They know me, you see. They know how Adam Forbes stood in Garfield, and what kind of folks live in Garfield; and they know that whoever killed Adam is in trouble up to his neck. You mustn't mind our little ways. However, as the witness is peeved, we'll try another. Jody, speak up and tell us."

"You act like we was under suspicion," sneered Hales.

"Sure, you're under suspicion! What do you expect? Everybody's under suspicion till we find the right man. I'm going to send word up and down to hold all strangers. That part is all right. Hello, Jerome! You missed most of the evidence! I'll tell you about it as we go up."

"Now why the little gun?" said Jerome Martin, tranquilly.

"Been holding an election. Now, Jody--your little piece."

"There's not much to tell. We found Adam's body a little ways down the cañon, maybe a quarter or a little more; and just this side of it we found where a yearling had been branded, or a big calf; ashes still warm. Looks just like this fellow had been stealing one of Adam's calves, and Adam caught him at it."

"But you said Adam was shot in the back at close range," objected Charlie. "Adam Forbes wouldn't turn his back to any man, under those circumstances. That won't work."

"Yes, we thought of that," said Caney. "More likely he saw Adam coming and killed him before he got to the calf--pretending to be friendly. Anyhow, Adam's horse went off down the cañon, and the other man went down the cañon, and we came after him. Oh, yes! His horse lost a shoe, as we told you before--the murderer's. Must have lost it chasing that calf. Tracks didn't show it in the soft ground in the park, anyhow--though we didn't look very close till we found Adam. But after he left Adam's body his tracks showed one shoe gone. That's all. Adam's horse bore off to the left. He had a larger foot than the other, and we could see where the bridle dragged."

"I'll send someone to find him. You didn't hear any shots?"

"Oh, no--we just thought maybe we'd meet up with some puncher ridin' the range, and ask him had he seen any strangers. This gang of saddle thieves--"

"Yes, I know about them. Thankee, gentlemen. You can ride now. If you catch your man beyond the river you might as well take him on to Hillsboro. Be mighty sure to remember not to forget to be particular to take this young man alive. We want to hang the man that killed Adam Forbes. That's all."

"Here, I want some cartridges," said Hobby. He leaped off and jingled into the store. "Hi, Sam! Get me a box of forty-fives," he called. Then to Harkey, in a guarded voice: "Pete, this looks fishy as hell! Those ashes were warm, they said. Look what time it is now--half past four. The way they were riding, this bunch made it from Redgate in half an hour. We met this stranger near two hours ago. That don't hold together. If the stranger man built that fire, the ashes would have been cold when Caney's bunch found them. And they say there are no other tracks. Wrong--all wrong!"

"And all the rest of it. Son, I didn't miss a bet. Neither did Charlie See. He looked hard at me. Save your breath. Say nothing and see everything. You do your part and I'll do mine. I'll know more before dark if it don't rain and rub out the tracks. Our Father which is in Garfield hates a lie, and he's fixed up this here solar system so there is no safe place in it for a lie. Sh-h! Here comes Caney!" He raised his voice. "What the devil do you need of more men? Five to one--what more do you want?"

"Well, but we may lose track of him and want to spread out to look and ask, while some of us go on--"

"Where can I find drinking water?" asked Caney.

"Back there," said Pete, pointing. Then, to Hobby: "Well, pick up someone in Arrey, then, or on the way. I want the men round here to go with me and look round before it gets dark. Say, Sam--you send someone up with a wagon to bring Adam back, will you? I'm off--me and Jerome. Tell Jones and Barefoot to come right on. Take care of my team for me."

He went out on the platform. Lull and Caney followed.

"Well, so long, you fellows," said Pete. "Send word back if you find your man. Because there's going to be a lot of irritated strangers when we start to picking them up."

"We had some plunder--grub and a blanket apiece tied behind our saddles, and we dumped it, to ride light, where we found Adam--just kept our slickers," said Caney. "Have 'em bring 'em in, will you, Harkey?"

"Sure," said Pete.

IX

"This to the crowd--speak bitter, proud and high, But simply to your friend--she loves you not!" --_Le Bret--who scolds._

The five pursuers rode swiftly, with inquiry at several farms about the man on the blue horse. Some had seen him; some had not. He had been riding slowly and he had kept the main road to Greenhorn. They took the Greenhorn Island ford and found good swimming. The quarry had passed through Donahue's an hour and a half before, taking the road to Arrey. They pushed on furiously. See and Lull fell behind a little.

"Say, this is a rotten deal!" said Charlie. "That man ain't running away. Not on your life. He no more killed Adam Forbes than I did. You know how long ago we met him. If he was the man that built that branding fire, how does it happen the ashes were still hot when these fellows found it? By their tell and our timing that was near three hours later. We met him about three; if he made that fire it couldn't have been later than two o'clock, by the looks of his horse. And he's keeping the same steady gait, and going straight for Hillsboro, just as he told us. We're gaining on him right along. He's not trying to get away. Either he's innocent or he's got the devil's own nerve."

"Innocent. Pete thinks so, too. This crowd tells a fishy story. Did you notice how prompt Caney was to explain why they was there, and why they went down Redgate, and why the stranger shot Adam, and how Adam gave him a chance to shoot him in the back? Always Caney! Say, Hob, that man was too willing by half!"

"And that excitement. I wasn't surprised at Jody, and I don't know this man Hales--but wouldn't you think Ed Caney had seen enough men killed not to fight his head like that? He didn't have much use for Adam, either. Adam backed him down once. It was kept quiet, but Anastacio told me, on the dead. It tickled Anastacio. No, sir--those three fellows acted like they might be wishin' to start a stampede. I'm not satisfied a little bit."

"A grudge? But if one of these ducks is in, they're all in. This is something else. Or of course it may have been some other person altogether, and these people may have merely lost their heads. Do you reckon that placer hunt of Adam's might have had anything to do with it? Poor old Adam! We'll find time to grieve for him after we get the man that rubbed him out."

"I can't hardly realize it. It won't come home to us till we've seen him, I expect. I keep saying it over to myself--'Adam's dead'--but I don't believe it. And only last night Edith sang that nightingale song after him--poor kid! Say--look at that, will you? You'd think Caney didn't dare trust us to talk together."

Caney dropped back to them.

"Can't you two get any action out of them horses of yourn?" he snarled. "It'll soon be dark on us. Your horses are enough sight fresher than ours."

Charlie See jumped his horse up and reined him to his haunches beside Caney, eye to eye; he cocked his hat athwart.

"Now, Mr. Ed Caney," he said sweetly, "any time you're not just satisfied with the way I behave you know what you can do. This place is here and this time is now. Fly to it!"

"Why, what's eating you, Charlie? This spitfire-wildcat-wolf-and-my-night-to-howl thing is a new lay, isn't it? I always gave you credit for some sense."

"Your mistake," said Charlie. "You ride on. I don't like deputy sheriffs much; especially deputies from Dona Ana; and most extra special and particular, tall deputies from Dona Ana with their faces pitted with smallpox, going by the name of Ed Caney, and butting into my private conversation. Me and old Stargazer will be in at the finish, and we don't need anybody to tell us how fast to go or nothing like that at all. So what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to ride on--that's what!" said Caney. "You can come along or you can go to hell--I don't care."

"It's a cruel world," said Charlie. "I've heard people call you a fool, but I know better, now. Don't you worry about us not keeping up."

Caney drove home the spurs and drew ahead.

They galloped into Arrey.

Yes, they had seen a man on a blue horse. "Filled his canteen here. Peart pair!... Which way? Oh, right up the big road to Hillsb'ro--him singin' and the horse dancin'.... Oh, maybe half an hour ago. He stayed here quite some time--admirin' the mountains, I judge, and fillin' his canteen--him and Josie. Better stay to supper, you-all; looks mighty like rain over yonder."

They turned squarely from the river valley and pushed up the staircase road. The track was clear and plain, three old shoes and a new one. They climbed the first bench-land step, and saw the long gray road blank before them in the last flame-red of sun. Swift dusk dropped like a curtain as they climbed the next step and saw a slow black speck far ahead in the dim loneliness.

"Got him!" said Jody. "Here, one can trail along behind, while two of us take the right and two go on the left, keeping cover in little draws and behind ridges. We'll have him surrounded before he knows we're after him. Way he's riding, we can head him off long before he gets to the Percha."

"Fine!" said Hobby Lull. "Fine! He rides into an ambush at dark. Guilty--he fights of course. Innocent--of course he fights! Any man with a bone in his spinal column would fight. First-rate scheme, except that Charlie See and me won't have it. Innocent, it isn't hospitable; guilty, we won't have him shot. The man that killed Adam Forbes has got to hang."

Leaping, Charlie See's horse whirled on a pivot and faced the others.

"Speed up, Hobby, and tell that man we're holding all strangers, him most of all. I'll hold this bunch. Beat it!"

His voice was low and drawling; he barred the way with quiet steady eyes. The storm-drenched wind blew out his saddle strings, the fringed edges of his gauntlets, the kerchief at his neck, the long tapideros at his feet; it beat back his hat's broad brim, Stargazer's mane snapped loose and level; horse and man framed against coming night and coming storm in poised wild energy, centered, strong and tense.

"You darned little meddlesome whiffet!" snarled Jody Weir savagely, as Lull galloped away.

See's gun hand lay at his thigh. "Talk all you like, but don't get restless with your hands. I'm telling you! Meddlesome? That's me. Matt is my middle name. Don't let that worry you any. I've got three good reasons for meddling. I know two of you, and I don't know the other one. I don't like waylaying--and I don't like you. Besides, I love to meddle. Always did. Everybody's business is my business. You three birds keep still and look sulky. Be wise, now! Me and a rattlesnake has got the same motto: You touch the button and I'll do the rest."

Black above and furnace flame below, the tumbling clouds came rushing from the hills with a mutter of far-off thunder. A glimmer of twilight lingered, and sudden stars blazed across the half sky to eastward, unclouded yet.

Hobby Lull cupped his hands and shouted through the dusk: "Hoo-e-ee!"

Johnny Dines halted the blue horse and answered blithely: "E-ee-hoo!"

"Sorry," said Lull as he rode up, "but I've got to put you under arrest."

"Anything serious?"

"Yes, it is. A man was killed back there to-day."

"So you want my gun, of course. Here it is. Don't mention it. I've had to hold strangers before now, myself."

"It isn't quite so vague as that--and I'm sorry, too," said Lull awkwardly. "This man was killed in Redgate Cañon and you came through there. I met you myself."

"Not that big red-headed chap I saw there?"

"That's the man."

"Hell, that's too bad. Acted like a good chap. He chinned with me a while--caught up with me and gave me a letter to mail. Where do we go--on or back? If you take me to the John Cross wagon to-morrow they'll tell you I'm all right. Down on the river nobody seemed to know where the wagon was. I'm Johnny Dines, Phillipsburg way. T-Tumble-T brand."

"I've heard of you--no bad report either. You live on one county line and I'm on the other. Well, here's hoping you get safe out of the mess. It isn't pretty. We'll take you on to Hillsboro, I guess, now we're this close. There's a lot more of us behind, waiting. Let's go back and get them. Then we'll go on."

"Look now--if you're going on to Hillsboro, my horse has come a right smart step to-day, and every little bit helps. Why don't you shoot a few lines? They'll come a-snuffin' then, and we won't have to go back."

Hobby nodded. He fired two shots.

"You ride a Bar Cross horse, I see."

"Yes. I'm the last hand." Johnny grinned. "Hark! I hear them coming. Sounds creepy, don't it? They're fussed. Them two shots have got 'em guessing--they're sure burning the breeze! Say, I'm going to slip into my slicker. Storm is right on top of us. Getting mighty black overhead. Twilight lasts pretty quick in this country."

Rain spattered in big drops. Wind-blown flare of stars and the last smoky dusk and flickers of lightning made a thin greenish light. Shadowy horsemen shaped furiously through the murk, became clear, and reined beside them. Dines took one look at them and directed a reproachful glance at his captor.

"I might not have handed over my gun so nice and easy if I had known who was with you," he remarked pleasantly. A high spot of color flamed to his cheek. "Just for that, you are going to lose the beauties of my conversation from now on--by advice of counsel. While you are putting on your slickers I merely wish to make a plain brief statement and also to call attention to one of the many mercies which crowd about us, and for which we are so ungrateful. Mercies first: Did you ever notice how splendidly it has been arranged that one day follows directly after another, instead of in between? And that maybe we're sometimes often quite sorry some day for what we did or didn't do some other day, or the reverse, as the case may be, or perhaps the contrary? Now the statement: I know two of you men, and I don't like those two; and for the others, I don't like the company they keep. So now you can all go to hell, home or Hillsboro, and take me with you, but I'll not entertain you, not if you was bored to death. I'm done and dumb--till I tell it to the judge."

X

"When the high heart we magnify And the sure vision celebrate, And worship greatness passing by-- Ourselves are great." --JOHN DRINKWATER.

Mr. George Gwinne sprawled at his graceless ease along two chairs; he held a long-stemmed brier-wood pipe between his bearded lips and puffed thoughtfully. The pipestem was long of necessity; with a short stem Mr. Gwinne had certainly set that beard alight. It was a magnificent beard, such as you may not see in these degenerate days. Nor did you see many such in those degenerate days, for that matter. It was long and thick and wide and all that a beard should be; it reached from his two big ears to below the fifth rib. It was silky and wavy and curly, and--alas for poor human nature!--it was kempt and kept--an Assyrian beard. Yet Mr. George Gwinne was, of all the sons of man, unlikeliest to be the victim of vanity. His beard was a dusty red brown, the thick poll of hair on his big square head was dusky red brown, lightly sprinkled with frost, his big eyes were reddish brown; and Argive Helen might have envied his brows, perfect brows in any other setting; merely comic here--no, no, "tragic" is the word, since all else about the man was coarse of grain and fiber, uncouth and repulsive.

His hands were big and awkward, and they swung from arms disproportionately long; his feet were big and flat, his body was big and gross, he was deep-chested and round-shouldered, his neck was a bull's neck, his ears were big and red, his head was big and coarse and square, his face was gnarled where it was not forested, his chance-seen lips were big and coarse, his nose was a monstrous beak, his voice was a hoarse deep rumble. And somewhere behind that rough husk dwelt a knightly soul, kindly and tender and sensitive--one of that glorious company, "who plotted to be worthy of the world."

He had friends--yes, and they held him high--but seeming and report held him pachyderm, and they trod upon his heart. Only to a few have time and chance shown a glimpse of the sad and lonely spirit behind those tired eyes--and they have walked softlier all their days for it. This is not his story; but there will be a heavy reckoning when George Gwinne's account goes to audit.

Mr. Gwinne's gaze rested benignantly on a sleeping man; a young and smallish man, very different from Mr. Gwinne in every respect, sprightly and debonair, even in sleep, with careless grace in every line of him, just as he had thrown himself upon the bunk. He had removed hat and boots by way of preparation for bed, and his vest served for a pillow. Long lashes lay on a cheek lightly tanned to olive, but his upper forehead was startling white by contrast, where a heavy hat had shaded it from burning suns. His hands were soft and white; the gloved hands of a rider in his youth. The bunk, it may be mentioned, was behind iron bars; Mr. Gwinne was chief deputy and jailer, and the sleeper was Mr. Johnny Dines.

Mr. Gwinne tapped out his pipe and spoke huskily: "Young feller, get up! Can't you hear the little birds singing their praises to--"

"Ur-rgh! Ugh! Ar-rumph-umph!" said Johnny, sitting up.

He started a little as his eyes fell on the bars. He pulled his shoulders together. Recollection followed puzzlement on his yet unguarded face; he passed his fingers through his tousled hair, making further tanglement. He looked at the absurd gigantic figure beyond the bars, and his eyes crinkled to smiling. Then his face took on an expression of discontent. He eyed his bed with frank distaste.

"I say, old top--no offense, and all that, but look now--I've never been in jail before. Is the establishment all scientific and everything? No objectionable--er--creepers, you know?"

"Why, you impudent young whelp! Damn your hide, I sleep here myself. If there's a grayback in my jail I'll eat your shirt. What in time do you mean by it, hey? Pulling my leg? You'd a heap better be studying about your silly neck, you young devil. Come out of that, now! Nine o'clock, past. Wish I had your conscience. Ten hours' solid sleep and still going strong."

"Gee, why didn't you wake me up? Are they going to hold my preliminary trial this morning or wait till after dinner? I'm sort of interested to see what indiscriminating evidence they've got."

"No trial to-day," said Gwinne gruffly. "Justice of the peace is up in the hills beyond Kingston, doin' assessments. They've gone after him, but they won't get back till late to-night."

"H'm!" Johnny rubbed his nose and looked searchingly at his ridiculously small and shapely feet; he wriggled his toes. "And don't I eat till His Honor gets back?" he inquired diffidently.

Gwinne rose heavily and shambled to the cell. "If I let you out to eat breakfast with me like a white man--no pranks?"

"Nary prank," said Johnny.

"She goes," said Gwinne.

He unlocked the door. Johnny slipped on his high-heeled boots and followed his jailer to the kitchen.

"Water and washpan over there," said Gwinne, and poked fresh wood in the fire. "Ham and eggs this A. M." He rumbled a subterranean ditty:

_Ham-fat, ham-fat, smoking in the pan-- There's a mighty sight of muscle on a ham-fat man._

Johnny sent an amused glance up and down his warden's inches.

"You must have been raised on it, then."

"Hog and hominy. There's a comb and brush."

"Got a comb." Johnny fumbled comb and toothbrush from his vest, and completed his toilet. "Haven't you had breakfast yet?"

"Naw. I hated to wake you up, you was hitting it off so regular. And you're the only prisoner I got now. Court's just over and the sheriff he's gone to Santa Fé with my only boarders. Lord only knows when he'll get back," said Mr. Gwinne parenthetically. "Jim is a good sheriff, a mighty good sheriff--but when he gets away from home he sees life through a glass darkly. They had him in jail, last time. So I thought we might as well be sociable."

"Oh! Then you're the party for me to jolly up when I want favors?"

"No," said Gwinne regretfully, "I'm not. The justice is gone, the sheriff's gone, and the district judge is always gone except when court sits here. But the prosecuting attorney--he serves for the whole district, five counties, like the judge, you know--why, by bad luck, he's right here, a-hoppin' and a-rarin'. So I'm under orders."

"Well, so am I. What are they? What can I do to help?" The ham sizzled merrily. "Um-m!" said Johnny appreciatively.

"You might set the table. I'll do the cooking to-day. If so be you get to be a star boarder you'll have to do your share of the cooking--though I reckon they'll want me to keep you under key if you're bound over. Come to think, this prosecuting person would likely kick like a green bay horse if he knew I was lettin' you mill round foot-loose. However, he don't know. How many eggs? Hard or soft?"

"Oh, about four--medium. We can always cook more if we have to. And four pods of _chili_. But why has the prosecutor got it in for me? He don't want to cinch me unless I'm guilty, does he?"

"It isn't that, exactly. You see, it has got out that you ride for the Bar Cross. And the Bar Cross boys got Wade's goat, some way, down in Cruces. I don't know what they did, but he's sure on the peck, and here's where he stands to break even. Pour the coffee. Tin cow yonder on the shelf."

"Oh, well--he may have a little fun coming to him," said Johnny generously. "But let us hope, for his own sake, that he gives me a fair shake when it comes to my trial. If the Bar Cross and the John Cross aren't just satisfied they are capable of any rudeness--abandoned ruffians! Say, I hope someone took care of my Twilight horse."

"He's all right. I put him up with Otto Gans, myself. There, she's ready. _Sientese!_" The jailer seated himself opposite the guest. "No butter. You'll have to excuse me."

"Butter, hell. Whadya think I am--an incubator kid? Say, there's a few old vets here in Hillsboro that used to know my dad--me, too, when I was a little shaver, some of them. Spinal Maginnis, George Perrault, Kayler, Nick Galles and Preisser. H'm, let me see--and Jake Blun, Mabury and Page. Could you manage me a palaver with some one or two of 'em after breakfast?"