In less than the time mentioned, Jim brought the horse to the door. All his men were standing in front of their cabin, looking on. They quite naturallybelieved that their guest had taken alarm, and was making off to some district where he would be in less danger. When his lordship came downstairs and out to the front, Jim was overcome with astonishment. His lordship was accoutred amazingly, after the fashion of the English horseman. He had dressed himself in a riding costume such as an English gentleman would wear at home. Jim and his comrades had never seen such an outfit before, and they greeted his appearance with a roar of laughter.
Stranleigh sprang into his saddle with the agility of a cowboy, and smiling good-humouredly at his audience, raised his hat to them, and rode off.
As Stranleigh’s horse entered the forest the young man began to ponder over the problem that confronted him. When the unfortunate Armstrong borrowed money from Ricketts, he had, of course, fully explained the situation. The lender had examined the property in company with a mining engineer, and this expert doubtless took away with him some ore to analyse at his leisure. Ricketts, being in possession of the engineer’s estimate of thepit’s value, had probably formed a syndicate, or perhaps made arrangements with other capitalists, to see him through with the speculation. Undoubtedly Ricketts expected no competition when the estate was put up at auction, but if he was a shrewd man, as was almost certain to be the case, events had occurred which might stimulate thought regarding his position.
Miss Armstrong had ridden out to Bleachers, having in her possession five thousand dollars, the face value of the notes. Ricketts would wonder how she had obtained the money. She possessed only two thousand dollars on her first visit, as he knew from the fact that she had offered it to him for refraining from action until her father returned. Who could have given her the extra three thousand? Whoever had done so must have known the girl could offer no security for its repayment. He was therefore a rich man, or he could not afford to throw away a sum so considerable.
It was likely that such reflections as these had put Ricketts on the alert, and the sudden advent in Bleachers of a smartly costumed stranger, a strangercoming from the direction of the ranch, would almost certainly convince Ricketts that here was his opponent. In Bleachers, too, each inhabitant very probably knew every one else’s business. That he could elude the astute Ricketts was therefore exceedingly doubtful, and Stranleigh already knew enough about the lawlessness of the district to believe that he might ride into considerable danger. In that sparsely-settled country, people were not too scrupulous in their methods of getting rid of an enemy.
He wondered how far down the line the next town was, for he was certain that any telegraphing he did from Bleachers would speedily be known to Ricketts. Would it be possible to deflect his course, and make for the next station eastwards? He possessed no map of the State, however, and there was little chance of meeting anyone, so there seemed nothing for it but to push on to Bleachers.
At this point his meditations were interrupted by the dimly heard sound of horses’ hoofs on the trail behind him. He pulled up and listened. Pausing for a few minutes, he heard nothing more, and so went on again, with an uneasy feeling ofbeing followed. He determined not to camp out when night overtook him, but to hurry on until he reached Bleachers. He had made a two days’ journey to reach the ranch, but that was because the laden mules were slow. Before dark he would be on the high road, and after that he could not lose his way. After all, perhaps it was better to reach Bleachers at night, and trust to rousing up the people in the one tavern of the place.
It was after midnight when his task was accomplished, and having seen to the accommodation of a very tired and hungry horse, Stranleigh threw himself down, dressed as he was, upon the bed to which he was shown by a sleepy ostler. He had had quite enough equestrian exercise for one day.
Ten o’clock had struck next morning before he woke, and went down to breakfast. His mind had become clarified, and he knew now exactly what he meant to do. To avoid the cognizance of Ricketts was impossible; of that he was certain. His first object, then, was to draw a red herring across the trail, so he enquired from the hotel-keeper thewhereabouts of Ricketts’ office, and was directed to it.
He crossed the street and ascended a stair. Ricketts kept neither clerk nor office boy, so Stranleigh knocked at the door, was gruffly commanded to enter, and obeyed.
Silas A. Ricketts was seated at a large table strewn with books and legal-looking documents, and he stared in astonishment at the figure which presented itself. He, like the men on the ranch, had never seen such a costume before.
“Are you Mr. Ricketts?” asked his lordship.
“Yes, sir.”
“My name is Stranleigh. I took the liberty of calling upon you to learn, if possible, the whereabouts of Mr. Stanley Armstrong.”
“Why should I know anything of his whereabouts?” demanded Ricketts.
“Permit me to explain——”
“Now, before we go any further,” interrupted the lawyer, “I want you to know that this is a business office, and I’m a business man. My time is valuable. I thought when you came in that youwere a client. If you have come here for aimless gossip, I’m not your man. I have my own affairs to look after.”
“You state the case very lucidly, Mr. Ricketts, and I congratulate your clients. My own time is far from precious, for I’m here after sport. How valuable is your time? How much does an hour’s conference with you cost?”
“It all depends on the business transacted.”
“I can’t agree with you, Mr. Ricketts. An hour is an hour. I want to buy sixty minutes of your time and attention. What do you ask for it?”
“Five dollars!” snapped Ricketts.
Stranleigh drew forth a five-dollar bill, and placed it on the table.
“May I sit down?” he enquired. “No healthy man should be tired in the morning, but I endured a long horseback ride yesterday, and had an indifferent night’s rest.”
“Where did you come from?”
“I have been living for the past few days at Armstrong’s ranch.”
“Are you the man who was shot last week?”
“Yes; by mistake for your estimable sheriff I understand. You see, I came here from New York with a letter of introduction to Mr. Armstrong, being told that I might enjoy some good fishing and a little shooting, while Armstrong was described as a most admirable guide to these sports. I waited at the ranch day after day, hoping that Armstrong would return, but nobody seems to know yet where he is, or when he will return, so I came out here, hoping to get into telegraphic communication with him. I’m well enough now to take part in the chase, and I am loth to return to New York without having had any sport.”
“I still don’t understand why you come to me about the matter.”
“I was told by his daughter that Armstrong had written to you. She does not know in the least where he is, and so on the chance of your having received a recent letter, I have called to enquire.”
“I see. Armstrong’s letter to me was written from Chicago. It was a request for money. I had already loaned him a considerable sum and wasunable to accede to his further demand. I answered to this effect, but have heard no more from him. It is likely that his own people have received word since the letter to me was written. Of course, you don’t know the date of their last letter from him?”
“Yes, I do,” said Stranleigh, “I have the letter with me. It contains all the data of which Miss Armstrong is possessed, and she gave me the letter to assist me in my search.”
He drew the letter from his pocket, and showed the date to the lawyer, who consulted his file, and then said—
“It is just as I expected. That letter was written ten days later than the one I received. Sorry I am unable to give you any definite assistance, Mr. Stranleigh.”
Stranleigh rose.
“I am sorry also. I suppose there wouldn’t be much use in telegraphing to the address he gives in Chicago?”
“I see no object in that. The place is probably a boarding-house, and he’s not there.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ricketts. Good morning.”
Stranleigh went slowly down the steep stairs, and reaching the sidewalk, almost fell into the arms of Jim Dean. Here, then, was the man who had been following him.
“Good morning, Mr. Dean.”
“Morning,” snarled Jim, briefly.
“I’ve just been up to see Mr. Ricketts, whom I think you mentioned the other day.”
“So I supposed,” agreed Dean.
“I expected to get some information from him about Mr. Armstrong, but he doesn’t appear to know very much.”
“Well, you’re the first man I ever heard say that S. A. Ricketts doesn’t know very much, but I think by and by you will find that others know a great deal.”
“Perhaps they know a great deal that is not so; there’s a lot of knowledge of that kind lying around loose.”
“Very likely,” remarked Jim, laconically, then turned on his heel and walked down the street, while Stranleigh went towards the depôt to enlist the services of a telegraphoperator, and learn when the next train left for the east.
Stranleigh found the telegraph operator dozing in a wooden chair tilted back against the wall, his soft hat drawn over his eyes, his feet resting on a rung of the chair. It was a hot day, and the commercial inactivity of Bleachers called for very little exertion on the part of the telegraphist. The young man slowly roused himself as the door opened and shut. His unexpected customer nodded good morning to him.
“Could you oblige me with some forms?” asked the newcomer.
“Forms? Forms of what?” The operator’s feet came down with a crash on the board floor as he rose from his chair.
“Well, telegraph blanks, perhaps I should have said.”
“Oh, certainly.”
The young man fished one out from a drawer, and flung it on the counter.
“This will do excellently for a beginning,” said Stranleigh, “but you’d better let me have a dozen to go on with.”
The young man was waking up. He supplied the demand, and with ever-increasing amazement, watched his client write.
Stranleigh gave the New York detective particulars in great detail so far as he possessed them, asked him to spare no expense, and requested that Armstrong, when found, should be presented with two hundred dollars or more, as he required, with admonition to take the first train home, where his presence was urgently needed.
“Great Scott!” cried the operator, “is that all one message?”
“Yes,” said Stranleigh.
“Where is it going?”
“I’ve written the address as plainly as I can. It’s going to New York.”
“I say, stranger,” protested the telegraphist, “have you any idea what it costs to send a message across the Continent to New York?”
“No, I haven’t, but I expect to be in possession of that information as soon as you have mastered my handwriting, and counted the words.”
The operator was practically speechless when hereached the end of his enumeration, but after making a note on the pad, he was sufficiently recovered to remark—
“Say, stranger, you’ll have to dig up a pretty big wad to pay for this. We don’t give credit in a Western Union office.”
“I shouldn’t think of asking credit from a downtrodden monopoly,” said Stranleigh, pulling out his pocket book, and liquidating his debt. “You ought to be happy if you get a percentage.”
“Worse luck, I don’t.”
“Well, I think you’re entitled to one. I’ve given a fee this morning and received no particular equivalent for it. Do you, being a useful man, object to accepting a five-dollar bill?”
“Not on your life!” assented the operator with great earnestness.
Stranleigh passed it over.
“I’m expecting a reply. At what time shall I call for it?”
“You don’t need to call, Mr. Stranleigh. When it comes, I’ll lock up the office, and find you if you’re anywhere in town.”
“I’m stopping over at the tavern.”
“All right; you’ll get it.”
“Thanks. Good morning.”
“See you later,” said the now thoroughly-awakened operator, and Stranleigh proceeded to the railway station. He took the next train to the nearest town east, and there did some more telegraphing, but this time the message was in cypher, and it was addressed to his agent in New York. Translated, it read—
“Send me at once by express, registered and insured, twenty thousand dollars in currency, made up of five dollar, ten dollar, and hundred dollar bills.”
The address was fully written out in plain English. He found there was time for a satisfactory lunch before the west-bound train arrived, and he partook of it in the chief hotel, whose accommodation was much superior to that of the Bleachers tavern.
On his return to headquarters, he called in at the telegraph office. The young man in charge, at once recognising him, announced—
“Nothing doing. The moment anything comes I’ll take it over to the tavern. Say, is there anything secret about that telegram you sent?”
“No; why do you ask?”
“Well, Mr. Ricketts, a lawyer here, came in about ten minutes ago, and described you, and wanted to know if you had sent a telegram.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I said nobody had sent a telegram, and that I knew nothing of you. He seemed powerful anxious, and offered me a dollar to let him know if you telegraphed anything. I went over to the tavern to tell you about it, but they said you hadn’t been in since breakfast.”
“I suppose you haven’t many chances of picking up an extra dollar in Bleachers?”
“No; I haven’t. Ricketts is always mighty curious about anyone who arrives here, but I never knew him offer a cent for information before.”
“I’m very much obliged to you. You go right over to Ricketts’ office and pick up his dollar, but don’t sayIgave you the advice. By the way, wouldn’t you be breaking the rules of the WesternTelegraph Company if you divulged the purport of any message that passed through your hands?”
A look of trouble, almost of fear, came over the young man’s face.
“If a telegram is secret,” he said, “the sender usually writes it in cypher.”
“Quite so, but even in that case wouldn’t you be punished if it became known that you had shown Mr. Ricketts a private despatch entrusted to your care?”
“Certainly,” admitted the telegraphist, exhibiting more and more uneasiness, “but I have not shown your telegram to anybody, and what I told you was entirely in confidence.”
“Oh, you need have no fear of my rounding on you. I am merely endeavouring to put you in possession of that dollar without getting your neck in a noose. Don’t you see that you are placing yourself entirely at Mr. Ricketts’ mercy?”
“But you,” protested the frightened young man, “advised me to do so.”
“Undoubtedly. I want you to get thatdollar, but not to place yourself in jeopardy. From what I saw of Ricketts this morning, I should not like to be in his power, yet his dollar is just as good as any other man’s dollar, and I want you to detach it from him with safety, and profit to yourself. Let me have another telegraph blank.”
Stranleigh wrote rapidly—
“Pinkerton Detective Agency, Chicago.“I want to be put into communication with Stanley Armstrong, who left Chicago on foot ten days ago, for the West, and I am willing to pay one hundred dollars for the job.“Edmund Stranleigh.“White’s Hotel, Bleachers.”
“Pinkerton Detective Agency, Chicago.
“I want to be put into communication with Stanley Armstrong, who left Chicago on foot ten days ago, for the West, and I am willing to pay one hundred dollars for the job.
“Edmund Stranleigh.
“White’s Hotel, Bleachers.”
“There,” said Stranleigh, passing over the sheet to the operator, “you show that to our inquisitive friend Ricketts, but don’t send it over the line.”
Stranleigh slept that night at White’s Hotel, and shortly after breakfast next morning the telegraph clerk came across with a very satisfactory telegram from New York. The sender could notpositively predict the finding of Armstrong, but anticipated no difficulty in the task.
Stranleigh paid his bill at the hotel, ordered out his horse, and trotted off towards the ranch. He saw no more of Ricketts, who, if on any trail, was following the wrong one.
Dusk had fallen as he was about to emerge into the clearing which in daylight would have afforded him a sight of Armstrong’s house. Suddenly and stealthily he was surrounded by six armed men, and the voice of Jim Dean broke the stillness.
“Good evening, Mr. Stranleigh. I must ask you to get down from your horse.”
“Willingly,” replied the rider. “I confess I have had enough equestrian exercise for one day.”
“We have supper ready for you at the bunk house.”
“Why at the bunk house? I am perfectly satisfied with the fare that Mr. Armstrong’s family provides.”
“We’d like a little conversation with you, and the conversation must take place in private.”
“In that case, Mr. Dean, you could hardly find a better spot than this.”
“We’re a kindly set of chaps, and couldn’t think of keeping a hungry man out here.”
“But I’m not very hungry. I took a pocketful of sandwiches with me from the tavern.”
“Nevertheless, you are coming with us, either peaceably, or by force, whichever you choose.”
“Oh, quite willingly, of course. I should be ungrateful if I gave you any unnecessary trouble, while accepting your hospitality. I may add that I am unarmed, so if you keep your guns in readiness you need fear no reprisal on my part.”
“That’s all right,” responded Jim. “We’re not easily scared, but are prepared to protect ourselves should you try any funny business.”
“Is Peter going to take my horse to the farm?”
“Sure; your horse will be put in its old quarters, and will be well taken care of.”
“Then I should be glad if Peter would oblige me by telling Miss Armstrong that I have arrived safely, and will give her an account of my journey when next I have the pleasure of meeting her.”
“‘I may add that I am unarmed, so if you keep your guns in readiness you need fear no reprisal on my part.’”“‘I may add that I am unarmed, so if you keep your guns in readiness you need fear no reprisal on my part.’”
Lord Stranleigh Abroad][Page242.
“I’m afraid Peter can’t carry any messages; indeed, it’s not at all necessary. I’ve told Miss Armstrong that your horse will be brought back, and that I saw you off on the east-bound train, which is quite true. You’ve brought back the horse, and you did go east on the train. Miss Armstrong thinks you have become tired of waiting for her father, and that you’ve gone either to Chicago or New York.”
“Am I to regard myself as your prisoner, then?”
“Prisoner is an ugly word, and we are not entitled to call ourselves gaolers, but if you wouldn’t mind looking on it in that way, it’s all the same to us.”
“Well, truthful Jim, I’m your man in every sense of the word. Let us begin our amicable journey. I yearn for the bunk house.”
“You will keep silent? No shouting or calling for help? There’s no help to be had anyhow, and a noise would merely alarm the women.”
“I recognise the necessity for silence, and I shall make no outcry. Indeed, my whole future conduct while with you will be governed by the strictest secrecy. When I get tired of the bunk house Ishall merely cut all your throats while you are asleep, and will do it in the quietest and gentlest manner.”
Jim laughed.
“I guess we can take care of our throats, but I’m much obliged for the suggestion, which may come in handy if you get funny, as I said before.”
They reached the bunk house by a circuitous route. A fine fire of logs was blazing on the ample hearth, for even in summer a fire was good to look at when night came on, at that elevation.
When Stranleigh sat down to supper, he regretted more than ever the civilised fare of the farm house. The menu was rough, but plentiful, and they all sat together at the long table. A meal was a serious event, and they partook of it in silence. It was evident that the men were going to adopt full precautions, for while they supped one of them sat by the door, a rifle over his knees. He came in for the second course, and another took his place. After the table was cleared, they all sat round the big fire, and smoked.
Remembering that the best tobacco in the worldcame from the south-east of their country, the aroma of the weed they had chosen was not as grateful to Stranleigh’s nostrils as might have been expected, so partly for good fellowship, and partly for his own protection, he presented each with a fine Havana cigar, such as would be welcomed in a London club, where pipes are not permitted. The men amiably accepted this contribution, but each put the cigar in his pocket against a future occasion, and went on with his pipe. Cheap as was the tobacco they were using, it was naturally scarce among men who had received no money for some months.
“I don’t wish to appear unduly inquisitive,” began their guest, “but now that we have all night before us, would you mind telling me why I am thus taken charge of by strangers on whom I have no claim?”
“There are several reasons,” replied Jim, who was always the spokesman for the company, “and we are quite willing to mention them. You appear to be a person of some intelligence——”
“Thanks,” interjected Stranleigh.
Jim went on, unheeding the interruption—“andso perhaps you know that we suspect you of being in cohoots with Ricketts.”
“Does ‘cohoots’ mean co-partnership?”
“Something of that sort. You partly persuaded us that wasn’t so, but I followed you to make sure. Perhaps you remember that I caught you coming out from Ricketts’ office. You made for that office the moment you reached Bleachers.”
“Pardon me, but I went first to the hotel.”
“Yes; and you enquired there where Ricketts hung out.”
“Certainly; but that’s in my favour. It showed that so far from being in the employ of the lawyer, I didn’t even know where he lived.”
“It was a good bluff.”
“It’s very circumstantial evidence of my innocence. But for the sake of argument, I will admit that I am in ‘cohoots,’ as you call it, with the estimable Ricketts. What next?”
“The next thing is that you learnt from Miss Armstrong of our intention to go into Bleachers and shoot up the town, including Ricketts.”
“That is true.”
“You didn’t like the plan and said so.”
“That also is correct.”
“You said it should be stopped, not knowing the ways of this country.”
“Certainly. Desirable as may be the shooting up of Bleachers, the odds are too strongly against you.”
“Oh, we’ll chance that. But the next thing you do is to put your funny clothes on, get out your horse, and ride directly to Mr. Ricketts. You are an informer.”
“An informer is always a despicable character, Mr. Dean. What’s the next item in the indictment?”
“Don’t you think that’s enough? Men have been hanged for less. An informer is the most poisonous wretch in the world except a horse thief.”
“Then I am in danger of being hanged?”
“You sure are.”
“Isn’t there any way in which I can compound my felony?”
“Well, I don’t quite know what confounding a felony is, but you’re the sleekest fellow I ever met, and if you think you can palaver us to let you go, you’ve made the mistake of your life.”
“I shouldn’t think of attempting such a thing. I am merely endeavouring to discover your state of mind. You’re strong on muscle, Jim, and I admire your build, but I’m beginning to doubt whether your brain equals your frame. There was a time when your equipment would have been victorious, but those days are long since past. Nowadays it’s brain that wins every time, and in every country. Physical force has had to give way before it. Jimmy, my boy, you’re out of date.”
“Brain isn’t going to help you any,” said Dean, evidently annoyed by these strictures on his mentality.
“Perhaps it won’t, but if there was a corresponding brain in your head, I’d appeal to it, and probably win. Are all your men here as stupid as you, Jim?”
Jim rose up from his chair, a forbidding frown on his brow.
“Look here, stranger,” he called out, “I’ve had enough of that line of talk.”
“Oh no, you haven’t. Please sit down. This line of talk is only beginning, and I say, Jim, layaside that pipe, and smoke the Havana cigar. It will put reason into your head if anything will.”
Some of the company laughed, and Jim sat down, seeing that his opponent failed to show any fear at his captors’ threatening attitude. He tried to change the course of the conversation into a less personal channel.
“You see, Mr. Stranleigh, we’re short on tobacco, and I want to keep this cigar until to-morrow. I can tell by the smell it’s a good one.”
“That’s all right,” said Stranleigh, “I have plenty more of them down at the house, and when they are finished, I’ll telegraph east for a fresh supply. If you will let me know your favourite brand of tobacco, I’ll order a ton of it at the same time.”
For a moment Jim’s eyes twinkled, then they narrowed into their usual caution.
“Was that what you meant by confusing a penalty? Well, stranger, it doesn’t go here. We ain’t to be bought, even by a ton of tobacco.”
“I hadn’t thought of either buying or bribing you,” said Stranleigh, “therefore we will get back to our original subject, the difference between brain andmuscle. I see here on the table a pack of cards in a deplorably greasy condition. If you were playing a game with an opponent who was beating you, would you shoot him?”
“Yes,” promptly replied Jim, “if I found he was cheating.”
“Whereupon his friends would lynch you.”
“A cheater hasn’t any friends.”
“Jim, I shouldn’t like to sit down to a game with you. You would shoot first, and think afterwards, while I, being unarmed, should be at a disadvantage. That, indeed, is just what you are doing now. If you succeed in holding me here you will spoil my game. What I propose to do is not to attack Ricketts with a gun, but to learn his style of play, and beat him at it. Any confounded fool can shoot off a gun; there’s no credit in that. It’s a coward’s trick.”
“You say we’ll spoil your game. You may bet your life we will. You daren’t tell us what it is.”
“Oh yes, I dare, because I have a trick that will quite delude you.”
“I know you’ll try to do that.”
“Exactly. Well, my trick is to tell the truth. The situation is very simple. That morning when from the pit mouth you warned me off the premises, I found Miss Armstrong very much worried because she had learned of your intention to shoot up the town, and could not persuade you to abandon so foolish a project. It then became my duty to prevent you doing what you proposed.”
“Do you think you can?”
“Of course; I knew it was no use attempting to reason with you, so the instant necessity was to get one man of common sense to counteract the stupidity of the bunk house. That I set out to do. I rode to Bleachers, called on Lawyer Ricketts, paid him five dollars down for whatever knowledge he could give me concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Armstrong. He could give me none that I did not already possess. He kept the five dollars, though. You saw me go off in the train. I merely went to the next town, to do some telegraphing that might be more or less secret from Ricketts. A detective agency will find Mr. Armstrong, and hand him two hundred dollars, asking him at the same timeto make for home by the earliest train. Then, unless I’m much mistaken, Mr. Armstrong will see the idiocy of what you propose, and will prevent you from carrying out your scheme.”
Jim pondered over this announcement for some minutes. At last he broke the silence.
“What you say may be true, but I don’t believe a word of it. It’s more likely Ricketts is your boss, and you went in to report to him and tell him what we intended to do. Then he’ll see that Bleachers is prepared to meet us.”
“Yes; that would be a simple way of turning the trick. There are good points about it, but it happens not to be my way, as you will learn in a few days when Mr. Armstrong returns.”
Again Jim meditated for a while, and finally rose, walked to the further end of the room, and engaged for some minutes in earnest cogitation with his fellows, carried on in tones so low that Stranleigh could not hear. Resuming his seat, he spoke with deliberation—
“You want us to believe that you are a friend of Mr. Armstrong?”
“I don’t care whether you believe it or not. I can hardly be a friend of Stanley Armstrong, because I’ve never seen him.”
“Well, we’ll put your good intentions to the test. When Mr. Armstrong gets here, he will have no money. Stony broke, that’s what he is. Now, unless we shoot ’em up in Bleachers when they try to sell his place, Armstrong will lose it. We take it you are a rich man. Will you promise to lend him enough money to hold this ranch, and run the mine?”
“No; I won’t,” said Stranleigh, with decision.
“All right. Then you stay here until you cough up that cash. Even if Armstrong comes, he will never know you’re here, because we shall tell him that you’ve gone East. Nobody else knows where you are, so there isn’t any chance of a search being made.”
“This is rank brigandage,” remarked Stranleigh.
“I guess that’s the right title, but a man who brags so much of his brains as you do, ought to see that if we’re ready to shoot up a town, we won’t stop at such a trifle as brigandage.”
“That’s so. And now, gentlemen, I’m tired after my long journey, and I think we’ve talked a great deal to very little purpose, so if you’ll show me what bunk I am to occupy, I’ll turn in.”
“There are six unused bunks, Mr. Stranleigh, and you can take your choice. There’s nothing mean about us.”
Stranleigh made his selection, and rough as the accommodation was, he slept as soundly as ever he had done in his London palace, or his luxurious yacht.
Although the Earl of Stranleigh was naturally an indolent man, the enforced rest of the next few days grew very irksome. He had expected the guard set over him to relax as time went on, but this was not the case. The genial Jim saw to that, and it was soon evident to Stranleigh that Dean ruled his company with an iron hand. Such casual examination of the premises as he was able to make impressed him more and more with the difficulty of escape. Had the structure been built of logs, there might have been some hope, but the imperviousnessof the thick stone walls was evident to the most stupid examiner. The place was lit in daytime by two slits, one at each gable, which were without panes, and narrow, so that they might as much as possible keep out the rain. No man could creep through, even if he could reach the height at which they were placed. During the day the stout door, fit to encounter a battering ram, was open, but a guard sat constantly at the sill, with a rifle across his knees. At night it was strongly locked. Stranleigh was handicapped by the fact that heretofore he had never been required to think out any difficult problem for himself. He had merely to give the order, and other people did his thinking for him, and when a plan was formed, there were others to carry it out, being well paid for doing so. Thus it happened that the means of escape were so obvious that a ten year old boy might have discovered them.
Each evening passed very pleasantly, for Stranleigh was a good story-teller, and had many interesting tales to relate. In spite of the fact that his gaolers were unanimous in their opinion that Stranleighwas a useless encumbrance upon earth, they began rather to like him. One night Stranleigh asked Jim if anything had yet been heard of Mr. Armstrong, and Dean, after hesitating a moment, replied that there was so far no news of him or from him.
“I’m sorry for Armstrong,” said Stranleigh, more as if talking to himself than to anyone else. “Poor fellow, away from home all this time, and yet compelled to support six stalwart loafers without commonsense enough to do the obvious thing.”
“What is the obvious thing?” asked Dean.
“Why, to work, of course. There’s your mine; you’ve got plenty of dynamite to go on with, and yet you lounge about here not earning enough to keep yourselves in tobacco. If there is silver in that hole, you could by this time have had enough out to buy the ranch and furnish your own working capital. You say you are partners in the scheme, but you seem to be merely a blunderheaded lot of hired men, determined not to do any work.”
Jim answered with acerbity—
“If you weren’t a fool you’d know we’d gone already as far as hand work can go. We need a steam engine and a crusher.”
“A steam engine?” echoed Stranleigh. “What on earth would you have to pay for coal, with railway haulage, and the cost of getting it out here from the line? Why, right there, rushing past you, is all the power you need. You’ve only to make a water-wheel, with a straight log, thrown across the falls as axle, and there you are. Pioneers have done that sort of thing since civilisation began, and here you don’t need even to build a dam.”
Jim was about to make an angry retort when the company were scattered by a roar and a heavy fall of soot on the log fire. The chimney was ablaze, but that didn’t matter in the least, as the house was fireproof. In a short time the flames had died out, and the party gathered round the fire once more.
“Well,” said Jim, “go on with your pretty advice.”
Stranleigh replied dreamily, gazing into the fire.
“Oh, well, I think my advice doesn’t amount to much, as you hinted. It is none of my affair. Youare a most capable body of men, I have no doubt, only the fact has been concealed from me up to date. I find I am developing the vice of talking too much, so I’m going to turn in. Good-night!”
But the fall of soot had suggested to Stranleigh a method of escape.
A wood fire is an evanescent thing, having none of the calm determination of coal combustion. A wood fire requires constant replenishing, and that in the bunk house did not receive this attention. When the men, tired with doing nothing, overcome by the lassitude enduring an empty day had caused, turned into sleep, the wood fire, left to itself, crumbled into a heap of ashes. The guarding of Stranleigh became more perfunctory as time passed. He proved to be a model prisoner, and usually the sentinel at the door fell into peaceful slumber as night wore on. On the particular evening Stranleigh chose for his attempt, Jim Dean sat on the chair against the door. Jim’s jaw worked so much during the day, he talked so incessantly, emptying hismind of all it contained, that he was naturally exhausted when his turn for watching came. Each of the men slumbered more or less soundly at his post, but the confident Jim outdid them all, so Stranleigh selected him as the man destined to hold the empty bag.
It was two hours after midnight when his lordship slipped down from his bunk. The fire had long since gone out, and the stone chimney was reasonably cool. The climbing of that ample flue presented no difficulty to an athletic young man who in his time had ascended the Matterhorn. The inside of the chimney offered to the amateur sweep walls of rough stone, which projected here and there, forming an effective, if unequal ladder. He attained the top with such ease that he wondered he had remained so long a prisoner. Descending the roof silently, he let himself down to the top of the lean-to which acted as kitchen and supply store, and dropped from that elevation lightly to the ground. It was a night of clear moonlight, and Stranleigh smiled to think how nearly he must represent the popularidea of the devil, covered as he was with soot from head to foot.
He made directly down the hill to the farm house by the stream, and risked a few minutes of time in washing his face in the rapid current. He now took off his boots, the better to enact the part of burglar. The doors of the house, he knew, were never locked. First he secured his favourite magazine rifle and a large quantity of cartridges, then as, after all, he was entitled to the board he paid for, he penetrated softly to the kitchen. Here he secured a couple of loaves of bread and a cooked ham, together with some other things he wanted, including a supply of tobacco, and thus overloaded as he had rarely been in his life before, he stole softly outside, slipped his feet into his boots, and slowly climbed the hill to the silver cavern. Depositing within his goods and chattels, he examined his store carefully to learn whether there was anything more he needed to stand a siege.
Bright as was the moonlight outside, the cavern was pitch dark, so Stranleigh determined on another expedition to the house, and he brought back a bunch of candles and an armful of bedclothes.
“Now for the night’s work,” he said to himself, and having lit a candle, which he placed at the remote end of the cave, he began picking up stones, and with them building a wall across the mouth of the pit. No Roman wall was ever built with such care, and no Roman wall ever contained within itself such possibilities of wholesale obliteration, because the structure was intersticed with sticks of dynamite, which Stranleigh carried with the most cautious tenderness from the rear to the front of the cavern. When his task was completed the moon had gone down, and the misty, luminous grey of the eastern sky betokened the approach of dawn. The young man was thoroughly tired, and with a sigh of relief he stretched himself out on the bedclothes he had brought from the house.
The early sun shining on his face awakened him. He knew from experience that the bunk house men were not afflicted with the vice of early rising. There was no aperture in their habitation, unless the door was open, through which the sun might shine upon them. He was therefore not surprised that no one was visible anywhere near the sleepingquarters. So he breakfasted in peace, alternating slices of bread with slices of ham, thus constructing some admirable sandwiches.
A providential jug, which doubtless in its time had contained whisky, was one of the utensils left when the mine was abandoned. Stranleigh took this, and stepping over the dangerous wall, filled it three or four times at the rushing cataract, rinsing out all indication of its former use. He brought it back, filled with very clear and cold water. He could not help thinking as he returned what an excellent place the waterfall would be for the washing of dishes, if a person ran the risk of standing upon spray-drenched, slippery rock ledges.
Stranleigh sat down where he could see the enemy’s quarters, and carefully examined his rifle, assured himself that the magazine was full, then with the weapon over his knees in the fashion adopted by his recent gaolers, watched the bunk house patiently, wishing he had a morning paper to while away the time.
The laggard sentinel was the first to rouse himself. The broad door opened, and Jim Dean, palpablybewildered, stepped out. With hand shading his eyes he minutely examined the landscape, slowly turning his head from left to right as he scrutinised the distant horizon and the ground intervening. Stranleigh, kneeling, rested his rifle on the top of the wall, and as Jim’s left ear, a rather prominent feature, became fully visible, the young man fired.
Jim’s action instantaneously verified the Indian romances of Stranleigh’s youth. He sprang clear up into the air and clapped a hand upon his wounded ear. He was at that moment the most astonished man on the western hemisphere. His first instinct being to bolt for cover, he did so without pausing to close the door, which opened outwards, and this broad piece of woodwork now offered a much more prominent target than Jim’s ear had done a moment before.
Stranleigh, exercising a care that seemed unnecessary with so big a target, fired out the cartridges of his magazine, then immediately restocked it, and shot away the second charge. Putting in a third load, he sat there with his customary nonchalance, awaiting the turn of events. In that clearatmosphere, and with his sharp vision, he saw that he had accomplished his intention, and had punctured the letter “S” on the panel of the open door.
Meanwhile, there was commotion in the bunk house. The first sharp report, accompanied by Jim’s yell, woke every man within. The subsequent fusilade engendered a belief that the enemy was in possession of a Maxim gun, and brought every man to the floor, thankful that he was under better cover than if he stood behind the door, through the panel of which all the bullets had penetrated.
“How did he escape?” demanded one, addressing Jim, who was holding his left hand to his ear.
“I don’t know,” said the wounded man ruefully. “You can search me.”
“Seems from that shooting that we’d better search outside. What in the fiend’s name made him batter the door?”
“Sorry he left us, I suppose,” muttered Dean, grimly. “Knocking because he wanted to come in again.”
“How did he get his gun?”
“Hanged if I know,” said the questioned man, impatiently.
“But you were on guard. You ought to know something about it.”
“Look here,” said Jim. “There’s no use in talking. He got out some way, and he’s got his gun some way. He’s holding us up, and we must make terms with him.”
“But where is he?”
“I tell you I don’t know! The bullet came from the direction of the mine. Now, one of you boys throw up your hands, and go outside and hail him.”
At this command, Jim met the first rebellion against his authority.
“Go outside yourself. It is you who have brought all this upon us. You shot him through the shoulder; you proposed capturing him, and it was you who fell asleep last night and let him escape.”
Jim did not combat their charges.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll go out, and you sit here and shiver while I enjoy a little conversation with him.”
Raising his hands above his head, Dean steppedacross the threshold into the open, and stood like an oriental about to begin his prayers. He saw at once the wall that had been built during the night, and then caught sight of Stranleigh standing behind it. Pulling out a white handkerchief, and waving it, Dean proceeded towards the mine.
“Have you got a revolver?” shouted Stranleigh.
“No,” answered Dean.
“Then put down your hands, and approach as a Christian should.”
Jim obeyed.
“Now stand where you are,” said Stranleigh, when the other was within four or five yards of the wall. “I see your ear is bleeding. That was rather a neat shot of mine, don’t you think?”
“It was,” admitted Dean, without enthusiasm.
“When you shot at my shoulder, you had a bigger mark.”
“Oh, not so very much,” growled Dean. “My ears are celebrated for their size.”
“You’d better wrap it up in this handkerchief,” commented Stranleigh, rolling it up in a ball, andflinging it towards Jim. The wounded man tied it round his voluminous ear.
“And now,” said Stranleigh, “get through with your parley as soon as possible, then go to Miss Armstrong, who will very expertly attend to your hurt. But in order to win the privilege of surgical treatment, you must recognise that you are a prisoner.”
“A prisoner?” echoed Dean.
“Certainly. You must give me your word you will say nothing to Miss Armstrong to show that I have had a hand in the game. Make whatever excuse you like for the disaster, and then get back to the bunk house, tell your fellows the condition of the game as far as we have gone. I will allow you five minutes after your return to show those chaps the letter ‘S’ I have perforated in the door. They are a very unbelieving lot, and I wish to gain their affection and respect. Without hurting anybody I mean to prove that I am a dead shot. I’m well provisioned here, and prepared to stand a siege. Until Mr. Armstrong returns, not one of you will be allowed outside the châlet. Don’t be misled by the fact that you outnumber me six to one. I hold amagazine rifle, possess an ample supply of ammunition, and have just given evidence of the rapidity with which reloading can be performed.”
“Yes,” said Dean, meditatively, “your position would be bull strong and hog tight, if you had a chum with you who could shoot as well as you do. But as it is, you’ve nobody to relieve you, and a man must sleep. It will only take one of us to defeat you. We’ve no magazine rifles and don’t need none. I’ll undertake the job myself.”
“How do you propose to do it?”
“That would be telling,” said Jim, craftily.
“Why not?” answered Stranleigh. “I’m placing my cards on the table. Why don’t you do the same? I’m not yearning for war and bloodshed, but have inaugurated a sort of Hague tribunal. There were two things I determined to accomplish when I broke jail. I hope that wounded ear hasn’t impaired your hearing, so that you may listen with attention. It’s always as well to know what your enemy desires.”
“I’m listening,” said Jim.
“The first thing was to shoot you through the leg or the arm or the ear, choosing some spot thatwas not vital. This in return for your shooting me. One good turn deserves another, you know. That part of my programme I have accomplished.”
“What’s the other part?”
“The second is to keep you gentlemen in prison just as long as you kept me in prison. One good imprisonment deserves another. Now will you tell me what you intend to do?”
“No; I won’t.”
“That’s mean of you, Jim; secretive, over-cautious and that sort of thing. I’m not so chary and so will give you the information. There are only two portions of the night during which you can come out unnoticed; before the moon rises and after it sets. You will steal out and take up a position where you can see the barricade when day begins to dawn. You’ll need to chose a spot a long way off, because the explosion, when it comes, will wreck everything in the neighbourhood.”
“What explosion?”
“The dynamite explosion. This wall is built of rock intersticed with those dynamite cartridges of yours. It is very likely you will obliterate the farm-house.”
“I’ll obliterate you, anyway.”
“Quite so, but at a tremendous cost, because whatever the fate of Mr. Armstrong’s residence, the doom of the bunk house is certain. You may be outside that danger, but you won’t be free of another. You suppose, doubtless, that I shall be asleep in the cavern. As a matter of fact I shall be sleeping placidly under the stars, quite out of reach of the main disaster. Your first shot will awaken me. Now, it is by no means certain that your first shot will send off the dynamite. You may have to fire half a dozen times, and your best rifle is an old breech-loader. I use smokeless powder, and you don’t. I could pepper away at you for half an hour and you’d never know where the bullets were coming from. The smoke from your rifle would giveyouaway at once. When I fire at you next time, Jim, I shall aim at a more vital point, because, my dear boy, the person who sets off that dynamite is a murderer. So before you put your plan into operation, just consult your comrades and explain to them its disadvantages.”
Dean stood there meditating for a few moments before he spoke.
“I’m very much obliged to you,” he said at last, “for telling me what you mean to do. We’ll change that plan a little, and come out of the bunk house together. We’ll search the country for you, and so won’t need to blow up the mine.”
“That’s a much more humane expedient, and will prevent unnecessary loss of life. I shall be lying quiet under whatever cover I can find. Your crowd will perambulate the locality, and I may remind you that you are no lightfooted Cinderellas. A herd of elephants would make less noise. I shall see you long before you see me, and I leave the result to your own imagination. And now, Jimmy, take the advice of a true friend. Your time to act was when you were snoring at that door and I was climbing the chimney. Once you allowed me to get my rifle, you had permitted opportunity to pass you, because I am a good shot, and I came West in order to shoot. When a person accustomed to downy beds of ease slumbers peacefully, as I did this morning, on hard and jagged rocks thinly disguised by a blanket, with my right ear against a dynamite cartridge, there’s nothing the matter with his nerves, is there?”
“No; there isn’t,” said Dean, with conviction.
“Now, what you chaps want is not a battle, but an armistice. Leave well enough alone, I say, and accept thestatus quo. If you remain in the bunk house, you are as safe as in a Presbyterian church.”
Jim did not reply, but deliberated, his open palm against his bandaged ear.
“Hurt?” asked Stranleigh.
“Yes, it does,” admitted Jim, ruefully.
“Well, my shoulder hurt a good deal after you fired at me. Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Jim. Next time I shoot at you, I’ll take the other ear. You’re determined to prove yourself a brigand, or a pirate, or something of that sort, and as pirates always wear earrings, that will put you in a position to adopt them. What do you say to my proposal for an armistice?”
“I can’t answer for the rest of the boys without consulting them. If we need an armistice or astatus quo, why, I suppose we ought to have them.”
“All right. If your ear hurts, the sooner you get it attended to, the better. You go directly down to the house and see Miss Armstrong, and you canreflect upon the situation while she is dressing the wound. Deep thinking will take your mind from the pain. Then go up and consult the company. Come and let me know what they decide. Meanwhile, I’ll guarantee that no one comes out of that bunk house without being shot at.”
“Mr. Stranleigh, I’ll do what you say, but I’ll change the order. I’ll go first to our shack, and warn the boys. That’s only fair, for they’re watching from that door, and if they see me going to the house they may think it’s all right, and come outside. After talking with them, I’ll visit Miss Armstrong, and then come back here to tell you what the boys say.”
“Yes, Jim; that’s a better plan than mine. But first give me your word that you will take no advantage of this respite until war. An armistice, you know, is a cessation of hostilities.”
“You mean that there will be no shenanigan? I give you my word.”
The wounded man made his way to the bunk house. Shortly afterwards Stranleigh saw him emerge, and go towards the homestead. After a longer intervalhe came slowly up towards the fortress, his ear neatly bandaged in white linen, which showed up, as one might say, like a small flag of truce.
“Well, what did Miss Armstrong say about the wounded ear?”
“She says it’s about as serious as the sting of a bee, and won’t hurt much longer than that would, and will be cured nearly as soon.”
“That’s first-rate, and relieves my conscience, which has been troubling me, because I’d much rather smite a man on the ear with my fist than with a bullet. For the same reason I hope you found your messmates undergoing a spasm of common sense.”
“They agreed with me that it wasn’t very healthy to take outdoor exercise for a while. If we decide to begin fighting again, we’ll give you twelve hours’ notice. Will that suit you?”
“I don’t know that it does, quite. I want you to promise that you will not break loose either until Mr. Armstrong returns, or the auction is over.”
“The boys wouldn’t agree to that, Mr. Stranleigh. We’re bound to attend that auction.”
Stranleigh sighed.
“Very good,” he conceded. “I must content myself with what you offer. I accept your proposal, for I feel certain that Mr. Armstrong will return before the ranch is sold. So good-bye. Give my love to the boys.”
Stranleigh watched the retreating figure until it disappeared into the bunk house. A moment later the perforated door was drawn shut, and then he rolled up the bedclothes into a bundle, and deposited it at the further end of the cavern. This done, he took his rifle under his arm, crossed the barricade, and strolled down to the farm-house. Miss Armstrong greeted him with surprise.
“I thought you had gone to New York,” she said.
“I took the train east, but only to the next station from Bleachers.”
“You’ve not been stopping at that wretched hotel in Bleachers ever since?”
“Oh no; I received a pressing invitation from some friends of mine to be their guest, with a prospect of a little shooting, so I’ve been staying with them ever since.”
“Did you have a pleasant time?”
“Oh, excellent, and I heard more entertaining stories than ever I listened to in a similar period.”
“Good shooting?”
“First rate. Limited in quantity, but of finest quality. Indeed, I may boast of a record; I hit everything I aimed at. Camp fare, however, left a good deal to be desired, so you may imagine how glad I am to return.”
“I’m very pleased to have an opportunity of giving you something better. How would you like some nice broiled trout, freshly caught this morning?”
“Oh, heavenly!” cried Stranleigh, enthusiastically. “I haven’t had anything but bread and salt pork since I saw you. Who caught the trout?”
“I did. I went down the river early this morning. I must have had a premonition that you would return, famished for trout, and I had quite an adventure, or rather, plunged into a mystery which I have not yet solved. I heard the sound of firing; first a single shot, then a fusilade. I could not tell from whence the sound came. I hurried home with my basket,but there was no one in sight. After a while Jim came in, very much crestfallen, it seemed to me, with his ear tied up clumsily in a handkerchief. He had been shot through the ear, and of course I came to his aid at once. With a woman’s curiosity, I asked him how the accident happened. Now, one of Jim’s infirmities is that he can only tell the truth when it suits his convenience.”
“Many of us are like that,” said Stranleigh.
“Well, this time it didn’t suit his convenience.”
“What did he say?”
“That the boys were having a sort of shooting match. I told him I had heard the firing, and feared that there had been a battle of some sort. He said it was the first shot that did for him. They had some bet on as to who could fire the quickest at a flying mark. In his hurry to get ready he had mishandled his gun, and sent a bullet through his ear. The other men had then fired almost simultaneously.”
“Miss Armstrong, I fear you are too sceptical. Why shouldn’t that be a true story?”
“Mr. Stranleigh, you quite underrate my intelligence.The wound in Jim’s ear was not caused by the gun he held. In the first place, his ear would have been blackened with gunpowder, and likely would have been partly torn off. Secondly, a mishandled gun would have fired upwards. The bullet that wounded him was fired from a distance by someone higher up than the spot where Jim stood. The wound was clean cut, slightly inclining downwards. Besides all that, Jim’s bullet, coming from an old-fashioned rifle, would make a bigger hole. I know that, for you remember I tended your shoulder, through which his bullet had gone.”
“By Jove, Miss Armstrong, if Sherlock Holmes had a daughter, she would be just about your age. Was there anything else?”
“Yes; I looked at the handkerchief in which he had bound his ear. It was of a finer cambric than we have ever seen in this district, or indeed, than I have seen anywhere else. The corner was embroidered with a very delicately-worked crest.”
“A crest?” said Stranleigh, rather breathlessly.
“I asked Jim where he had got this handkerchief. He seemed confused, but said he had alwayshad it. Bought it once at a five-cent store in Denver.”
Stranleigh could not refrain from laughing.
“You think it cost more than five cents?”
“Yes; I am sure it cost more than twenty-five.”
“Perhaps he stole it?”
“Jim might shoot a man, but he’d never steal.”
“I think that when you discover the owner of that handkerchief, you will have solved the mystery,” remarked Stranleigh calmly.
“I think so, too,” said the girl quietly. “Now I am going to cook your trout.”
The three days following were among the most enjoyable Stranleigh had ever spent. He asked Miss Armstrong to show him the portion of the river in which she had caught those delicious trout. Heretofore, she had used a baited hook when fishing, landing her spoil with a trout pole, but now she was to be initiated in the delicate mysteries of fly fishing. Stranleigh remembered the story told of an English official sent to view the debateable land adjoining the far western boundary of Canada who reported the territory useless, because the fishwouldn’t rise to the fly. He wondered what lure the official used, for here they rose readily enough, and fought like demons until Miss Armstrong deftly lifted them from the water in the new-fangled landing net, the like of which she had never seen before.
But in spite of the excellent sport he was enjoying, Stranleigh became more and more anxious as time went on. Nothing had been heard from Stanley Armstrong. The fisher began to fear that the detective had failed in his search. On the morning of the fourth day he dressed in his ordinary tweed suit. The riding costume attracted more attention than was altogether convenient. He put in his pocket an automatic revolver of the latest construction; light, accurate and deadly. The day of the auction was drawing uncomfortably near, and he was determined that his journey should not be interrupted, as his former ride had been. Aside from this, he expected to carry with him a large amount of money, and if any word of that got abroad, he knew a holdup was quite within the range of possibility. The coterie confined in the bunk house would doubtlesslearn that they were their own gaolers, and with that gang once free upon the landscape, he anticipated interruption which, if successful, would completely nullify his plans.
“Are you going fishing to-day?” asked Miss Armstrong, when he came downstairs. He had appeared unexpectedly soon that morning. The young woman was always an early riser.
“Fishing!” echoed Stranleigh. “Yes, in a manner of speaking. Isn’t there a text which refers to fishers of men? I’m going fishing for your father. We should have had him here before this, but now the need of him becomes imperative. I imagine that a telegram awaits me in Bleachers. If not, I must communicate with New York, and wait for a reply.”
Stranleigh walked up the hill to the bunk house, and rapped at the panel with the butt of his riding whip. Dean himself threw open the door, and he could not conceal his astonishment at seeing the young man standing there, apparently unarmed.
“Good morning, Jim,” said Stranleigh cordially.