Benton of the Royal Mounted Part 13

"I didn't steal 'em!" he shrilled, in a thin, high, cracked falsetto. "I didn't!-I bought 'em honest ... an' I've got th' bill o' sale to prove it. I'm an honest man ... always have bin ... an'-an' this feller here's abused me an' beat me up ... an' he's twenty years younger'n me, if he's a day. O-oh, o-oh, oh, my G.o.d!..." And the tears ran down his lined old face into his gray beard.

"Yu' did steal 'em, you old liar-yu' know yu' did!" Pryce commenced to yell back at him.

"Aw, quit yore squallin', Pryce," snarled the policeman angrily, "or I'll d.a.m.ned soon give yu' somethin' to squall about. This ain't a dog fight. _I'm_ runnin' this inquiry, an' I'll have it conducted in a proper manner. Just yu' keep yore traps closed-both of yu'-an' only open 'em to answer my questions. D'yu' hear?"

This roughly administered tonic had its effect, and the agitators grew perceptibly quieter. The Sergeant watched them narrowly.

"Now, let's start in again," he said. "Yu', Pryce! Yore team, wagon an'

harness disappeared on th'-th'-wait a bit, I've got it in my notebook-'on th' sixth o' June. Team o' dark bays, branded E four on th'

right shoulder. One with white star on forehead an' two white hind-fetlocks, an' t'other, white strip on forehead, an' a small kidney-sore on left side o' back. Heavy, double-st.i.tched harness, with bra.s.s-mounted hames. Wagon-Studebaker-almost new.'"

He leisurely examined the brands on the team and nodded as if satisfied.

"That's yore team all right," he said. "Now, let's have a look at th'

wagon. 'Studebakers' is common enough. Is there any marks, or somethin'

yu' can positively swear to, about it-harness, th' same?"

The other, nodding sulkily, indicated various features of identification.

With a final scrutiny, Ellis turned to the old man who, by this time, had recovered sufficiently to give fairly coherent answers.

"Let's have a look at yore bill o' sale, Dad," he said.

The other, fumbling with shaking old hands about his pockets, at length produced a dirty folded paper. Benton opened it and proceeded to scan it closely, with a running commentary.

"'Sold to Hiram Bryan. One bay team. Branded E four on right shoulder.'

H'm, h'm. 'Thirteenth of June.' Unlucky day for yu', Dad. 'One horse, two white'-h'm, h'm, descriptions correspond O. K. 'Two hundred an'

fifty.' Got th' outfit cheap enough ... but I don't know ... nigh horse is all right, but th' off'n ain't worth a d-n with them bog-spavins.

Seems to be made out in order, all right. h.e.l.lo! Whose signature's this?

'Gordon Brown'!" He looked up suddenly. "Now, perhaps you'll tell me who, an' what like of a feller this 'Mister Gordon Brown' is?"

The old man gazed at his interlocutor out of watering, rheumy eyes.

"Why, he's a big feller, with a black beard," he piped unhesitatingly.

And slowly and haltingly, with heavy, asthmatical breathing, he began his labored explanation.

"I'd just come over th' Line, from Nebrasky. Things was bad down ther', an' I figgered on filin' on a bit of a homestead somewheres around this part o' th' country. I was in th' hotel at Sabbano when I first met this feller-him an' his partner, a younger chap-an' we got a-talkin'

together. He said as how they'd had a homestead down this ways, but had got burnt out ... so they was-or he was-goin' ter take up 'nother place, somewheres up in th' bush, west o' here ... later. I told him as I had a bit o' money an' was a-figgerin' on buyin' a wagon an' team ... an' he says: 'Why, we'll sell yu' our'n ... we ain't got no use fer 'em jest now, an' afterwards I kin offer yu' a job-freightin' some stuff o' ours up to our new place.' He said as how him an' his partner were a-workin'

fer an outfit called th' Wharnock Cattle Company." (Ellis started involuntarily.) "They was a freightin' some supplies back ter th' outfit with a four-horse team, an' he says ter me: 'Yu' kin come back with us, ef yu' like, an' see th' team an' wagon ... an' ef yu' buy 'em, I guess I kin get yu' a job teamin' fer th' company till we're ready ter pull out ter our own place.' They'd got a big load on, so it was a two-days'

trip, an' th' night we gets ther', he says: 'We've got 'em bein' kept over at a friend o' our'n. Me partner here'll go get 'em in th'

mornin'.' Well, th' young feller brings 'em in th' next afternoon an', as they looked as th' kind I wanted, an' th' price bein' all right why, I buys 'em, an' he gives me this bill o' sale."

"D'yu' pay him cash?" inquired Ellis.

The old man nodded wearily. "Two hunnerd an' fifty dollars," he murmured. "I on'y had a hundred left, but they got me inter a poker game at th' outfit, an' they skinned me o' that. Th' big feller, he fixed it up with th' foreman fer me ter work ther' with me team fer a week or two. Th' day before yestiddy he comes ter me an' he says: 'Termorrer mornin' yu' get yore team an' pull out fer Cherry Creek. We're ready ter quit now, an' there's some stuff down ther' as we wants yu' ter freight up ter our place in th' bush.' He tells me th' way, an' he says: 'Yu'

hit th' trail that goes south, past a feller called Barney Gallagher's.

Don't yu' _stop_ ther', though. Ther'll be a feller with red hair, on a white hawss, meet yu' somewheres around ther', and' he'll show yu' wher'

ther' stuff is, an' help yu' ter get it loaded.' Well, I pulls out, an'

comes over here, an' fust thing I know is, I meets up with this feller"

(here he indicated Pryce), "an' he holds me up, an' says as how th' team an' wagon's his'n," he wound up, with a hopeless inflection in his tones.

There followed a long silence. The policeman remained in deep thought awhile.

"See here; look," he said. "Yu' tell me as near as yu' can, what this big feller's like."

The old man looked at him absently a moment.

"Eh?" he said. "Why, he's a big feller with a black beard. They calls him 'George' around th' outfit. Th' young feller ... they calls _him_ 'Scotty.' I dunno what his other name is. All my dealin's has bin mostly with th' big feller-'George.' He does all th' talkin' ... an' th' young chap ... seems ter do as he tells him."

The Sergeant nodded gravely. "That settles it," he said sharply.

Pryce, who, all this time, had been an eager listener, now sputtered excitedly: "Why, why-that's George Fisk an' Scotty Robbins he's a-meanin'. Must be. H-l! _They're_ all right. I know 'em both well. It ain't likely as _they'd_ come a-sneakin' 'round a feller's place while he was away an' steal his outfit. I'm a-goin' ter ride over ter th'

Wharnock outfit right now an' see'f this old gink's a-tellin' th'

truth," he ended, with a spiteful glance at the old man.

Ellis turned and regarded him with his peculiar, blank, aggressive stare.

"Well, I guess yu' _ain't_," he drawled coldly. "That's _my_ end o' this business. I know more about them same two fellers'n what yu' do. I know this much, too. From information I've received, yu' wouldn't find 'em _at_ th' outfit just now, anyways."

The other stared at him sullenly.

"That ther' team an' wagon's mine, no matter whether them fellers is at home or abroad," he began bl.u.s.teringly. "An' I guess I'll take 'em back with me."

"Reckon yu've got another guess comin', then," rejoined the policeman dryly. "Th' outfit may be your'n, all right, but yu' don't get 'em till this business is all cleared up, an' th' Court orders 'em to be returned to yu'. When I'm ready, I'll notify yu' to come into Sabbano-with yore witnesses, yu' understand-to prove yore ownership. D'yu' get me now?" he rapped out harshly, with a rising inflection in his tones.

The red-headed rancher regarded him with a sulky, brooding stare, the premeditated retort dying on his lips. For there was _that_ in the Sergeant's face and voice, just then, that forbade any talking back; so, with a last, lingering, dissatisfied look at his newly found property, he slowly mounted his waiting horse and rode away.

Benton noted the course he took with grim satisfaction. No fear of his meeting _them_ now. He was going home, all right-his place _lay_ nor'east, he reflected. _They_ would come in from the sou'west. He turned to the old man, whom the bill of sale had named as Bryan.

"Unhitch that team an' put 'em in th' stable, Bryan," he said. "An' take th' harness off 'em. I'm a-goin' to hold yu' on a charge of vagrancy till this mix-up's all squared out."

Slowly the other complied with the Sergeant's order and, leading the horses into the stable, endeavored to unharness them; but the weight of the heavy, bra.s.s-mounted hames seemed too much for his strength to raise and hang on the stable-pegs. He staggered and almost fell, the Sergeant coming to his a.s.sistance, and giving him a hand.

"An' _yu'_ figured on takin' up a homestead, Dad?" he said incredulously. "Why, with yore age, an th' shape yu're in, it'd kill yu'. Yu' ain't fit for nothin' like _that_. Whatever d'yu' come over here for? Ain't yu' no friends-relations, or family, back where yu' come from-to look after yu'?"

The old man shook his gray head despondently and, with a weary sigh and long-drawn whistling breaths, sank down on an oat bin.

"I did hev one time," he wheezed, in the cracked, querulous tones of the aged. "Plenty o' money, too! Oh, I hed lots o' friends-then. I raised four of a family-three boys an' a girl. They're all married, an' livin'

in different parts o' th' States. They don't bother none over th' ol'

man-now. Th' wife-she was th' last one as I hed in th' world ter call friend. She died last Christmas, so I come over here. Son," he said, with an impressive solemnity, pausing a moment, "whin yu' see a man o'

my years down an' out, what d'yu' gen'rally figger's wrong?"

Ellis, with an inscrutable face, was thoughtfully studying the venerable, weary countenance of his elderly vis-a-vis.

"Booze?" he queried slowly.

"I reckon yu' hev it," was the hopeless reply. "Me own worst friend!

But-I hev always bin honest."