*CHAPTER XXIII*
_*The Sheriff Changes His Opinion*_
It was a good two hours after the departure of Slim.
We sat in silence (while the ponies browsed the tufts of grass) watchingthe clouds of mosquitos hanging in their phalanxes along the trickle ofthe stream and the bright, gauzy, blue wings of two mosquito-hawksflashing through their midst.
"By the way," said Apache Kid, "do you know if Miss Pinkerton herselfhas heard of this accusation against me?"
"By now, she is liable to have heard some rumour of it, I reckon," saidthe sheriff; "but as to whether she heard the news or not at the time ofmy starting out after you, I dunno."
The implication was amusing.
"Ah, yes, of course," said Apache Kid. "You act so promptly, always,Sheriff."
The Indian, who was sitting a little above us, spoke: "Tree men," hesaid, "an' tree men and one man come along up-hill beside thehoneysuckle."
"That's seven," said Apache Kid.
"Seven?" said the Sheriff, sharply, rising to his feet; "and no waggon?"
"No."
"I reckon this is a deppitation," said the sheriff, as he glareddown-hill.
"I don't like deputations of seven," said Apache Kid, looking down tothe honeysuckle. "We were visited by one deputation of seven on thistrip already; eh, Francis?"
"Ho?" said the sheriff. "You did n't tell me;" but he was not lookingat Apache. He was gazing across the rolling land towards those who werecoming in our direction, now quite plain to see--seven mounted men,armed, and suspicion-rousing.
"Pity about them guns and shells being lost," said the sheriff, and thenhe sung out:
"Halt right there and talk. What you want?"
One man moved his horse a step or two ahead of the others, who hadreined in.
"We want that man you have there," said he.
"Halt right there," said the sheriff again; and then he remarked toApache:
"Reckon you 'd rather travel down to Baker City with a reputable sheriffand have an orderly trial before hangin' instead o' hangin' uphere-aways without no trial."
"I 'd rather go down----"
"Halt right there!" roared the sheriff.
"--and prove myself innocent of the charge," Apache ended.
"Well, then," said the sheriff, "I reckon here's where we become alliesand you gets on the side o' law and order for once. Take that," and heclapped the butt of his Colt into Apache Kid's hand. "Draw close, boys,till I palaver" and he rose from his rock seat, with his Winchesterlying on his arm.
"Well, gentlemen," he said. "I reckon you's all aware that you arebuttin' up ag'in law and order," he began.
"Law is gettin' kind of tender-hearted," replied one of the newcomers."We want to see justice done."
"I don't seem to know your face," said the sheriff.
"Oh! We 're mostly from outside your jurisdiction," was the reply. "Wejest came along up from the Half-Way House to see that justice is donein this yere matter."
"I don't know 'em," said the sheriff to Apache Kid.
"That's not their fault," said Apache Kid. "I know two of them byhead-mark. A fat lot they care for seeing justice done. It's revengethey want on the loss of Farrell."
"What about Farrell?" said the sheriff. "You did n't tell me."
"He was one of the seven I mentioned," said Apache Kid. "But where,might I ask, Sheriff, do you intend to make your fire zone?" And henodded his head toward the seven who were walking their horses a triflenearer yet.
"Yes," said the sheriff, "they do creep up some. Dern, if we could onlypow-wow with 'em till Slim gets back with the posse and the waggon."
This was the first hint of what business Slim had been despatched upon,but that is by the way. The sheriff apparently was not to be permitteda "pow-wow" to kill the time.
"See here," cried the spokesman of the party, "jest you throw up yourhands, the lot of you or----"
"Or what?" said the sheriff.
"Or we come and take him."
"Now, gentlemen," said the sheriff, "I 'm a patient man. If it was n'tfor the responsible position I holds, I would n't argue one little bitwith you, but you know I 'm elected kind o' more to save life than todestroy it."
Apache hummed in the air.
"That's just their objection," said he, softly.
"Pshaw!" said the sheriff. "That was a right poor cyard I played; butit's tabled now and can't be lifted. Get back there! By Jimminy! ifyou press any closer, we fire on you."
There was a quick word among the seven men and then they swooped on us.I tell you it was a sudden business that. Down went the sheriff on hisknee. And next moment the now familiar smell of powder was in mynostrils. Two of the seven fell and their charge broke and they sweptround us to left and right.
"Anybody hit here?" said the sheriff. "Nobody! Guess they don't want tohit you, Apache Kid."
"I 'm getting used to that treatment," said Apache Kid. "It 's not thefirst time I 've pressed a trigger on seven men who wanted mylife--rather than my death," he ended grimly.
"You got to tell me about that, later," said the sheriff. "I getsinterested in this seven business more and more every time you refers toit."
"I hope to have the opportunity, at least," said Apache, grimly, "tosatisfy your curiosity."
"Look up! Here they come again," the sheriff interjected.
There was another crackle to and fro, a quick pattering of hoofs andflying of tails. One bullet zipped on a granite block in front of meand spattered the splinters in my face. The five wheeled and gathered;one of the fallen men crawled away and lay down in the shadow of a rockto look on at the fight, with a sick face.
"They do look like as they were gatherin' again systematic. Pity aboutthat there mud-slide comin' so sudden," remarked the sheriff again, asthough talking to himself more than to us; and then again he cried:"Lookup!"
Down came the five then, bent in their saddles, their right hands inair, apparently determined to make a supreme effort. They were going totry the effect of a dash past, with dropping shots as they came. But ata word from one they wheeled, rode back a distance, and then, spinninground, rode back as you have seen fellows preparing for a running startin a race, wheeled, and then came down in a scatter of dust, and a cryof "Yah! Yah!" to their horses.
Next moment they were past--four of them.
"If them four fellows come again," said the Indian, "my name Dennis."
I wondered how Apache Kid could titter at this remark.
I thought perhaps that it was half excitement that caused the laugh. Itwas not that exactly, however. It was something else.
"As you remarked," said he to the sheriff, "it's a pity about thatmud-slide," and he swung his revolver to and fro in a limp hand.
"Don't drop that gun o' yours," said the sheriff in anxiety. "Don't yougive the show plumb away. By Jimminy! they are meditatin' another. Say!Guess I 'll palaver again some."
He leaped to his feet and waved the palm of his hand toward the four andthen set it to the side of his mouth like a speaking-trumpet.
"I tell yous," he cried, "I 'm not a bloody man. I'm ag'in blood.That's why I give you this last reminder that you 're kickin' ag'in thelaw and I advise you to take warnin' from what you got already. If Iwas n't ag'in blood, I would n't talk at all."
Apache Kid tittered again.
"You need n't just tell them it's your own blood you are thinking of,Sheriff."
"No!" said the sheriff, with a queer, flat look about his face--I don'tknow how else to describe it--"I 've said enough, I reckon. If I seemanxious to spare 'em and warn 'em off some more, they might be liable totumble to it that we 've put up our last fight, eh?" And he gave agrim, mirthless laugh.
The four seemed uncertain. Then one of them looked down-hill, the otherthree followed his gaze, and away they flew above us and round in acircle, not firing now, to where their wounded comrade lay by the rock,and after captur
ing his horse, one of them, alighting, helped him to thesaddle. It is a wonder to me that they did not surmise that ourammunition was done, for they came close enough to carry away the otherswho had fallen. But they themselves did not fire again. They seemed inhaste to be gone, and with another glance round and shaking their fistsbackwards as they rode, they departed athwart the slope and broke into ajogging lope down Baker shoulder.
Apache Kid had moved away a trifle from the rest of us as we watchedthis departure, and now he sat grinning at the sheriff who was moppinghis brow and head.
"Well, Sheriff," he said. "I hope this convinces you of my innocence."
"What?" asked the sheriff, a little pucker at the eyes.
Apache handed him back the revolver that he had received at thebeginning of the fight.
"That!" said he.
The sheriff looked at the chambers which Apache Kid's finger indicatedwith dignified triumph.
"Two shells that you did n't fire!" said the sheriff. "What does thatshow?"
"That I had you held up if I had liked--you and your Indian--and Ipassed the hand, so to speak. My friend and I might leave you now if weso desired. There are other ways through the mountains besides followingthese gentlemen. We could do pretty well, he and I, I think."
The sheriff smiled grimly.
"This here Winchester that's pointin' at your belly has one shell inyet," said he. "It come into my haid that maybe----" and he stopped andthen in a voice that seemed to belie a good deal of what I had alreadytaken to be his nature, a voice full of beseeching, he said: "Say,Apache, I got to apologise to you for keepin' up this yere shell. You're a deep man, sir, but I guess you are innocent, right enough, o'wipin' out Pinkerton. Here comes Slim and the waggon."
Apache looked with admiration on the sheriff.
"Diamond cut diamond," he said, and laughed; and then said he: "And haveI to apologise for keeping my two shells?"
"No, sir!" cried the sheriff. "You kept them to show me you was square.I kept my last one because I did n't trust you. I guess I do now."
"We begin to understand each other," said Apache.
"I don't know about understand," said the sheriff. "But I sure amgetting a higher opinion of you than I had before."