BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE
Originally Published under the title of
BRANSFORD IN ARCADIAOr, The Little Eohippus
by
EUGENE MANLOVE RHODES
Author ofThe Desire of the Moth,Good Men and True, West Is West, Etc.
Frontispiece by Harvey T. Dunn
Grosset & DunlapPublishers New York
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1913, byCurtis Publishing Company
Copyright, 1914, byHenry Holt and Company
Copyright, 1920, byThe H. K. Fly Company
THE HORSES WERE UNWILLING TO ENTER THE CIRCLE OFFIRELIGHT. _Page_ 181]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
PROLOGUE 1 I THE PITCHER THAT WENT TO THE WELL 27 II FIRST AID 35 III MAXWELTON BRAES 47 IV THE ROAD TO ROME 61 V THE MASKERS 71 VI THE ISLE OF ARCADY 86 VII STATES-GENERAL 95 VIII ARCADES AMBO 106 IX TAKEN 113 X THE ALIBI 125 XI THE NETTLE, DANGER 136 XII THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN 150 XIII THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN (_continued_) 169 XIV FLIGHT 181 XV GOOD-BY 194 XVI THE LAND OF AFTERNOON 205 XVII TWENTIETH CENTURY 215 XVIII AT THE RAINBOW'S END 226
BRANSFORD OF RAINBOW RANGE
BRANSFORD IN ARCADIA
PROLOGUE
I
The long fall round-up was over. The wagon, homeward bound, made campfor the last night out at the Sinks of Lost River. Most of the men, wornwith threescore night-guards, were buried under their tarps in the deepsleep 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 wiryand 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 unstaledmiracle.
The clustered lights of Rainbow's End shone redly, near and low. Beyond,above, dominant, the black, unbroken bulk of Rainbow Range shut out theeast. The clear-cut crest mellowed to luminous curves, feathery withfar-off pines; the long skyline thrilled with frosty fire, glowed,sparkled--the cricket's chirp was stilled; the slow, late moon rose to ahushed and waiting world.
On the sharp crest she paused, irresolute, tiptoe, quivering, rosilyaflush. Above floated a web of gossamer. She leaped up, spurning theblack rim; glowed, palpitant, through that filmy lace--and all thedesert throbbed with vibrant light.
Cool and sweet and fresh, from maiden leagues of clean, brown earth thedesert winds made whisper in grass and fragrant shrub; yucca, mesquiteand greasewood swayed--so softly, you had not known save as the longshadows courtesied and danced.
Leo flung up his hand. The air was wine to him. A year had left thedesert still new and strange. "Gee!" he said eloquently.
Headlight nodded. "You're dead right on that point, son. If ChristopherK. Columbus had only thought to beach his shallops on the sundown sideof this here continent he might have made a name for himself. Just thinkhow much different, hysterically, these United States----"
"_This_ United States," corrected Pringle dispassionately. Their fathershad disagreed on the same grammatical point.
Headlight scowled. "By Jings! 'That _this_ United Colonies are, and ofright ought to be, free and independent States,'" he quoted. "I wasgoin' to give you something new to exercise your talons on. You sithere every night, ridin' broncs and four-footin' steers, and never graba horn or waste a loop, not once. Sure things ain't amusin'. Somevariety and doubtful accuracy, now, would develop our guessin' gifts."
Aforesaid Smith brandished the end-gate rod. "Them speculations of yourssorter opens up of themselves. If California had been settled first thesalmon would now be our national bird instead of the potato. Think ofArizona, mother of Presidents! Seat of government at Milipitas; centerof population about Butte; New Jersey howlin' about Nevada trusts!" Heimpaled a few beef ribs and held them over the glowing embers.
"Georgia and South Carolina would be infested by cow-personsin decollete leather panties," said Jeff Bransford. "New Yorkand Pennsylvania would be fondly turning a credulous ear to thetwenty-fourth consecutive solemn promise of Statehood--with theSenator from Walla Walla urging admission of both as one mightyState 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 fora President from east of the Mississippi. All the prize-fights pulledoff at Boston."
"Columbus done just right," said Pringle decisively. "You fellers ain'tgot 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.' Whenthe intrepid explorer hit the big white weather he'd say, 'Little oldSan Diego's good enough for me!' Yes, sir!"
"Oh, well, climate alone doesn't account for the charm of thiscountry--nor scenery," said Leo. "You feel it, but you don't know why itis."
"It sure agrees with your by-laws," observed Pringle. "You're a sightchanged 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'dsure admire to have your picture to put in my cornfield."
"Very well, Mr. Pringle: I'll exchange photographs with you," said Leoartlessly. A smothered laugh followed this remark; uncertainty as towhat horrible and unnamed use Leo would make of Pringle's pictured faceappealed to these speculative minds.
"I've studied out this charm business," said Jeff. "See if I'm notright. 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 youhit an octagonal cuss like Wes here, that on a mere count of years andhairs might be sized up as old by the superficial observer. But if Ihave ever met that man more addicted with vivid nonchalance as tofurther continuance of educational facilities than this same Also Ran,his number has now escaped me. Really aged old people stay where theywas."
"I think, myself, that what makes life so easy and congenial in theselatigos and longitudes is the dearth of law and the ladies." ThusPringle, the cynic.
A fourfold outcry ensued; indignant repudiation of the latter heresy.Their protest rose above the customary subdued and quiet drawl of theout-of-doors man.
"But has the law no defenders?" demanded Leo. "We've got to have laws tomake us behave."
"Sure thing! Likewise, 'tis the waves that make the tide come in," saidJeff. "A good law is as handy as a good pocketbook. But law, as simplysuch, 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 ina moment of emotional sanity that the environments of the special casein hand call for a compound fracture of the statutes made andprovided--for some totally different cases that happen to be called bythe same name--I fall upon it with my glittering hew-gag, without nospecial wonder. For," he declaimed, "I am endowed by nature with certaininalienable rights, among which are the high j
ustice, the middle, andthe 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 mymind I've got to use my judgment--picking the man I follow. Byorganizing myself into a Permanent Committee of One to do my ownthinking 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 aproposition 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'tbeen 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. Gotthat? It's not wrong to keep a just law--and if it's wrong to break anunjust 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 atthe edge I've got on you fellows. You're just supposed to behonest--but I've been proved honest, frequent!"
"Hark!" said Pringle.
A weird sound reached them--the night wrangler, beguiling his lonelyvigil 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 thelaw?" he said. There was a ringing note in his voice. Smith andHeadlight 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 takesup a homestead on the Feliz. He wasn't affluent none. I let him have myold 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, neeGambler, him havin' won a new name by a misunderstanding with aprairie-dog hole. Taylor paid Poe for him in work. He was a willin' oldrooster, Taylor, but futile and left-handed all over.
"John, Junior, he was only thirteen. Him and the old man moseyed aroundlike 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 tocrops, and so on.
"Done you good to drop in and hear 'em plan and figger. They was onehappy family. How Sis Em'ly bragged about their hens layin'! In thespring we all held a bee and made their _'cequias_ for 'em. Baker, heloaned 'em a plow. They dragged big branches over the ground for aharrow. They could milk anybody's cows they was a mind to tame, and theboys 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 toCruces, where Em'ly could go to school.
"That meant right smart of expense--rentin' a house and all. So theJohns they hires out. John, Junior, made his dayboo as wrangler for theSteam Pitchfork, acquirin' the obvious name of Felix.
"The old man he got a job muckin' in Organ mines. Kept his hawses inJeff Isaack's pasture, and Saturday nights he'd get one and slip downthem eighteen miles to Cruces for Sunday with the folks.
"Well, you know, a homesteader can't be off his claim more'n six monthsat a time.
"I reckon if there was ever a homestead taken up in good faith 'twas theButterbowl. They knew the land laws from A to Izzard. Even named theirhound pup Boney Fido!
"But the old man waited at Organ till the last bell rang, so's to drawdown his wages, payday. Then he bundles the folks into his little oldwagon and lights out. Campin' at Casimiro's Well, half-way 'cross, thatornery Freckles hawse has a fit of malignant nostolgy and projects offfor Butterbowl, afoot, in his hobbles. Next day, Taylor don't overtakehim till the middle of the evenin', and what with going back and whatwith Freckles being hobble-sore, he's two days late in reachin' home.For Lake, of Agua Chiquite, that prosperous person, had been keepingcases. He entered contest on the Butterbowl, allegin' abandonment.
"Now, if it was me--but, then, if 'twas me I could stay away six yearsand two months without no remonstrances from Lake or his likes. I'msomewhat abandoned myself.
"But poor old Taylor, he's been drug up where they hold biped lifeunaccountable high. He sits him down resignedly beneath the sky, as thepoet says, meek and legal. We all don't abnormally like to precipitatein another man's business, but we makes it up to sorter saunter in onLake, spontaneous, and evince our disfavor with a rope. But Taylorsays, 'No.' He allows the Land Office won't hold him morally responsiblefor the sinful idiocy of a homesick spotted hawse that's otherwisereliable.
"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 handcaught in the cogs, off it goes, regardless of how handy it is forflankin' calves, holdin' nails, and such things. 'Absent over sixmonths. Entry canceled. Contestant is allowed thirty days' prior rightto file. Next.'
"That's the way that decision'll read. It ain't come yet, but it's duesoon.
"This here Felix looks at it just like the old man, onlydifferent--though he ain't makin' no statements for publication. Hecome here young, and having acquired the fixed habit of riskin' hisneck, regular, for one dollar per each and every diem, shooin' in thereluctant steer, or a fool hawse pirouettin' across the pinnacleswith a nosebag on--or, mebbee, just for fun--why, natural, he don'tsee why life is so sweet or peace so dear as to put up with any damnfoolishness, as Pat Henry used to say when the boys called on him fora few remarks. He's a some serious-minded boy, that night-hawk, andif signs is any indications, he's fixin' to take an appeal under theWinchester Act. I ain't no seventh son of a son-of-a-gun, but myprognostications 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 amuddy 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 nocattle, _viva voce_, this night."
"Ain't he the Latin scholar?" said Headlight admiringly. "They blowabout that wire Julius Caesar sent the Associated Press, but old manPringle done him up for levity and precision when he wrote us theaccount 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. Therailroad hauls water in tank-cars from Dog Canyon. 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 ordermentioned. Also, one glorious green cottonwood, one pampered rosebush,jointly the pride and delight of Escondido, ownerless, but cherished byloving 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, gossipwith jolly, motherly Ma Sanders, reading and answering of mail--thentheir beauty nap; so missing the day's event, the passing of the Flyer.When they woke Escondido basked drowsily in the low, westering sun. Thefar sunset ranges had put off their workaday homespun brown and gray forchameleon hues of purple and amethyst; their deep, cool shadows, edgedwith trembling rose, reached out across the desert; the velvet airstirred faintly to the promise of the night.
The agent was putting up his switch-lights; from the kitchen came acheerful clatter of tinware.
"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'stoo durn 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 youfellers----Gosh! If I was only young!"
/> "It's a travesty on justice!" exclaimed Leo indignantly. "There's reallyno 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 oldcronies. Guess this other letter is from him unofficial, likely."
Jeff seated himself on a box. "How long has this Lake got to do hisfiling in, Pappy?"
"Thirty days from the time he signs the receipt for this letter--durnhim!"
"Some one ought to kidnap him," said Leo.
"Why, that's illegal!" Jeff nursed his knee, turned his head to one sideand chanted thoughtfully:
"Said the little Eohippus, 'I'm going to be a horse, And on my middle fingernails To run my earthly course'----"
He broke off and smiled at Leo indulgently. Leo glanced at him sharply;this was Jeff's war-song 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'shorse. His ankle's all swelled up. I'll be mixin' me up a toddy, if Ma'sgot 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 bottleunder the shelf is the best." He bustled out. But Jeff caught Ballingerby 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 togyratin' on his axis some fifteen or twenty minutes, you listenin'reverently. Meanwhile, I'll make the necessary incantations. Git! Don'tlook so blamed intelligent, or Pappy'll be suspicious."
Bransford hastened to the kitchen. "Ma Sanders, a bronc fell on meyesterday and my poor body is one big stone bruise. Can I borrow someboiling water to mix a small prescription, or maybe seven? One when youfirst 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 tothe 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 awaste-paper basket through the long summer. Touching off the papers witha match, he smashed an empty box and put it in. Then he went into thepost-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 theButterbowl: "Enclosing the Plat of TP. 14 E. of First Guide MeridanEast Range S. of 3d Standard Parallel South, as per request."
He paused to consider. His roving eye lit on the wall, where the AnnualReport 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 hecut out, refolded it till it slipped in the violated envelope, dabbedthe flap neatly with Pappy's mucilage, and returned the letter to itsproper pigeonhole.
He replenished the fire with another box, subjected Lake's registeredletter to the steaming process and opened it with delicate caution. Itwas 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 heresealed it with workmanlike neatness, and then restored it with a finalinspection. "The editor sits on the madhouse floor, and pla-ays with thestraws in his hair!" he murmured, beaming with complacent pride andreaching for the bottle.
Pappy and Leo found him with his hands to the blaze, shivering. "I feellike I was going to have a chill," he complained. But with a fewremedial measures he recuperated sufficiently to set off for Rainbowafter supper.
"Charley's ankle seems better," said Leo artlessly.
"Don't you lay no stress on Charley's ankle," said Jeff, in a burst ofconfidence. "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be otherwise. Justlet Charley's ankle slip your memory."
The following day Bransford drew rein at Wes Pringle's shack andsummoned him forth.
"Mr. John Wesley Also Ran Pringle," he said impressively, "I have takena horse-ride over here to put you through your cataclysm. Will youtruthfully answer the rebuses I shall now propound to the best of yourability, and govern yourself accordingly till the surface of Hadescongeals 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 saidsoberly.
"John Wesley, do you or do you not believe Stephen W. Lake, of AguaChiquite, to be a low-down, coniferous skunk by birth, inclination andtraining?"
"I do."
"John Wesley, do you or do you not possess the full confidence andaffection of Felix, the night-hawk, otherwise known and designated asJohn Taylor, Junior, of Butterbowl, Esquire?"
"I do."
"Do you, John Wesley Pringle, esteem me, Jeff Bransford, irrespective ofcolor, sex or previous condition of turpitude, to be such a one as maybe safely tied to when all the hitching-posts is done pulled up, andwill 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-mentionedand described Felix, and impart to him, under the strict seal ofsecrecy, these tidings, to wit, namely: That you have a presentiment,almost amounting to conviction, that the Butterbowl contest is decidedin Lake's favor, but that your further presentiments is that said Lakewill not use his prior right. If Taylor should get such a decision fromthe 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 otherwisemutilate said Lake, nor to wickedly, maliciously, feloniously andunlawfully fire at or upon the person of said Lake with any rifle,pistol, musket or gun, the same being then and there loaded with powderand with balls, shots, bullets or slugs of lead or other metal. You seeto that, personal. I'd go to him myself, but he don't know me wellenough to have confidence in my divinations.
"You promulgate these prophecies as your sole personal device andconstruction--_sabe?_ Then, thirty days after Lake signs a receipt forhis decision--and you will take steps to inform yourself of that--yousidle casually down to Roswell with old man Taylor and see that he putspreemption papers on the Butterbowl. Selah!"
III
The first knowledge Lake had of the state of affairs was when the SteamPitchfork punchers informally extended to him the right hand offellowship (hitherto withheld) under the impression that he hadgenerously abstained from pushing home his vantage. When, in themid-flood of his unaccountable popularity, the situation dawned uponhim, he wisely held his peace. He was a victim of the accomplished fact.Taylor had already filed his preemption. So Lake reaped volunteerharvest of good-will, bearing his honors in graceful silence.
On Lake's next trip to Escondido, Pappy Sanders laid aside his markedofficial hauteur. Lake stayed several days, praised the rosebush and MaSanders' cookery, and indulged in much leisurely converse with Pappy.Thereafter he had a private conference with Stratton, the Register ofthe 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 anear-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 greatgrandfolks was Dacotahs and I've got my name in 'Who's Sioux'--but I'mnot proud! Trot him around. Exactly who is Stratton, anyhow?"
"He's the Register of the Land Office--and he wants to see you there onvery particular business. I'd go if I was you," said the Marshalsignificantly.
"Oh, that way!" said Jeff. "Is this an arrest, or do you just give methis _in_-vite semi-officiously?"
"You accuse yourself, sir. Were you expectin
g arrest? That sounds like abad conscience."
"Don't you worry about my conscience. 'If I've ever done anything I'msorry for I'm glad of it.' Now this Stratton party--is he some aged andvenerable? 'Cause, if he is, I waive ceremony and seek him in his lairat 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 toreverence 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 mydoor. Open it, Leo. Mr. Hobart, you will now make rapid forward motionswith your feet, alternately, like a man removing his company from whereit 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 saidplaintively, "'before us and behind us, and every which-a-way we looked,we seen a roscerhinus.' We went into another field--behind us and beforeus, and every which-a-way we looked, we seen a rhinusorus. Mr. Lake hasbeen evidently browsin' and pe-rusing around, and poor old Pappy, notbeing posted, has likely been narratin' about Charley's ankle and how Ihad 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 inworse emergencies, and I always emerged. Thanks be, I can always do mybest when I have to. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we don't keepin practice! If I'd just come out straightforward and declared myselfto Pappy, he'd 'a' tightened up his drawstrings and forgot all about mychill. But, no, well as I know from long experience that good old humannature's only too willin' to do the right thing and the fair thing--ifsomebody'll only tip it off to 'em--I must play a lone hand and not evencall for my partner's best. Well, I'm goin' to ramify around andscrutinize 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 andeminently respectable, turned in his revolving chair with a severe andmajestic motion; adjusted his glasses in a prolonged and offensiveexamination, and frowned portentously.
"Fine large day, isn't it?" observed Jeff affably. "Beautiful littlecity you have here." He sank into a chair. Smile and attitude were ofpleased and sprightly anticipation.
A faint flush showed beneath Stratton's neatly-trimmed mutton-chops.Such jaunty bearing was exasperating to offended virtue. "Ah--who isthis 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 ofthe 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 beextremely private." The Marshal whispered to him; Stratton gave Leo afiercely 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 wantto 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 backhis head. His voice took on a steady roll. "Mr. Bransford, you standunder grave displeasure of the law! You are grievously suspected ofbeing cognizant of, if not actually accessory to, the robbery of theUnited States Mail by John Taylor, Junior, at Escondido, on theeighteenth day of last October. You may not be aware of it, but you havean excellent chance of serving a term in the penitentiary!"
Jeff pressed his hands between his knees and leaned forward. "I'm sureI'd never be satisfied there," he said, with conviction. His white teethflashed in an ingratiatory smile. "But why suspect young John?--whynot 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," saidHobart. "Young Taylor claims to have passed the night at Willow Springs,alone. But no one saw him from breakfast time the seventeenth till noonon the nineteenth."
"He rarely ever has any one with him when he's alone. That may accountfor them not seeing him at Willow," suggested Jeff. He did not look atHobart, but regarded Stratton with an air of deep meditation.
The Register paced the floor slowly, ponderously, with an impressivepause at each turn, tapping his left hand with his eyeglass to score hispoints. "He had ample time to go to Escondido and return. The envelopein which Mr. Lake's copy of this office's decision in the Lake-Taylorcontest was enclosed has been examined. It bears unmistakable signs ofhaving 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 wasunfortunately destroyed, Mr. Lake suspecting nothing. A map had beensubstituted for its contents, and they, in turn, were substituted forthe decision in the registered letter, with the evident intention ofdepriving 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! Mystars, but won't he get the horse-smile when the boys find out?"
Stratton controlled himself with an effort. "We have decided not to pushthe 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 havethought 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 dayor 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 tospare you--as you had no direct interest in the matter and doubtlessconcealed your guilty knowledge through a mistaken and distorted senseof honor. But you tempt us--you tempt us! You don't seem to realize theprecarious situation in which you stand."
"What I don't see," said Jeff, in puzzled tones, "is why you bother tospare me at all. If you can prove this, why don't you cinch me and Felixboth? Why do you want me to tell you what you already know? And if youcan't prove it--who the hell cares what you suspect?"
"We will arrest you," said Stratton thickly, "just as soon as we canmake out the papers!"
"Turn your wolf loose, you four-flushers! You may make me trouble, butyou can't prove anything. Speaking of trouble--how about you, Mr.Stratton?" As a spring leaps, released from highest tension, face andbody and voice flashed from passive indolence to sudden, startlingattack. His arm lashed swiftly out as if to deliver the swordsman'sstabbing 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'sguard. For the Register flinched, staggered, his arrogant face grewmottled, 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 afamily to think of. It's up to you, Mr. Stratton. Is it worth while? Hadwe better drop it with a dull, sickening thud?"
Stratton collapsed into the chair, a shapeless bundle, turning ashriveled, feeble face to the Marshal in voiceless imploring.
Unhesitating, Hobart put a hand on his shoulder. "That's all right, oldman! We won't give you away. Brace up!" He nodded Jeff to the door. "Youwin!" he said. Leo followed on tiptoe.
"Why, the poor old duck!" said Jeff remorsefully, in the passage. "WishI hadn't come down on him so hard. I overdid it that time.
Still, if Ihadn't----"
At the Hondo Bridge Jeff looked back and waved a hand. "Good-by, oldtown! Now we go, gallopy-trot, gallopy, gallopy-trot!" He sang, and theringing 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 hasthe 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!"