The Story of the Foss River Ranch Part 35

He seemed in no hurry to speak. A shadowy smile hovered about his face as he eyed the officer. Then he turned away and looked over to the eastern horizon. He turned back again and drawled out a greeting. It was not cordial but it was characteristic of him.

"Wal?"

Horrocks made no reply. The Breed laughed mockingly, and leant forward upon the horn of his saddle.

"Guess you've satisfied your curiosity--some. Say, the boys didn't handle you too rough, I take it. I told 'em to go light."

Horrocks was constrained to retort.

"Not so rough as you'll be handled when you get the law about you."

"Now I call that unfriendly. Guess them's gopher's words. But say, pard, the law ain't got me yet. Wot d'ye think of the road across the keg?

Mighty fine trail that." He laughed as though enjoying a good joke.

Horrocks felt that he must terminate this interview. The Breed had a most provoking way with him. His self-satisfaction annoyed his hearer.

"How much longer do you intend to keep me here?" Horrocks exclaimed bitterly. "I suppose you mean murder; you'd better get on with it and stop ga.s.sing. Men of your kidney don't generally take so much time over that sort of business."

Retief seemed quite unruffled.

"Murder? Why, man, I didn't bring you here to murder you. Guess ef I'd a notion that way you'd 'a' been done neat long ago. No, I jest wanted to show you what you wanted to find out. Now I'm goin' to let you go, so you, an' that skunk Lablache'll be able to chin-wag over this night's doin's. That's wot I'm here fer right now."

As he finished speaking the Breed circled Golden Eagle round behind the tree, and, bending low down from the saddle, he cut the rope which held the policeman's wrists. Horrocks, feeling himself freed, stepped quickly from the bush into the open, and faced about towards his liberator. As he did so he found himself looking up into the muzzle of Retief's revolver. He stood his ground unflinchingly.

"Now, see hyar, pard," said Retief, quietly, "I've a mighty fine respect for you. You ain't the cuckoo that many o' yer mates is. You've got grit, anyway. But that ain't all you need. 'Savee's' a mighty fine thing--on occasions. Now you need 'Savee.' I'll jest give yer a piece of advice right hyar. You go straight off down to Lablache's ranch. You'll find him thar. An' pesky uncomfortable you'll find him. You ken set him free, also his ranch boys, an' when you've done that jest make tracks for Stormy Cloud an' don't draw rein till you git thar. Ef ever you see Retief on one trail, jest hit right off on to another. That's good sound sense right through fur you. Say, work on that, an' you ain't like to come to no harm. But I swear, right hyar, ef you an' me ever come to close quarters I'll perforate you--'less you git the drop on me. An' to do that'll keep you humpin'. So long, pard. It's jest gettin' daylight, ah' I don't calc'late to slouch around hyar when the sun's shinin'.

Don't go fur to forget my advice. I don't charge nothin' fur it, but it's good, pard--real good, for all that. So long."

He swung his horse round, and before Horrocks had time to collect himself, much less to speak, he was almost out of sight.

Half dazed and still wondering at the strangeness of the desperate Breed's manner he mechanically began to walk slowly in the direction of the Foss River Settlement.

CHAPTER XXII

THE DAY AFTER

Morning broke over a disturbed and restless community at Foss River. The chief residents who were not immediately concerned in the arrest of Retief--only deeply interested, and therefore skeptical--had gone to bed over-night eager for the morning light to bring them news. Their broken slumbers ceased as daylight broadened into sunrise, and, without waiting for their morning coffee, the majority set out to gather the earliest crumbs of news obtainable. There were others, of course, who were not in the know, or, at least, had only heard vague rumors. These were less interested, and therefore failed to rise so early.

Amongst the earliest abroad was Doctor Abbot. Aunt Margaret's interest was not sufficient to drag her from her downy couch thus early, but, with truly womanly logic, she saw no reason why the doctor should not glean for her the information she required. Therefore the doctor rose and shivered under the lightness of his summer apparel in the brisk morning air.

The market-place, upon which the doctor's house looked, was almost deserted when he pa.s.sed out of his door. He glanced quickly around for some one whom he might recognize. He saw that the door of "Lord" Bill's shack was open, but it was too far off for him to see whether that lazy individual was yet up. A neche was leisurely cleaning up round Lablache's store, whilst the local butcher was already busy swabbing out the little shed which did duty for his shop. As yet there was no other sign of life abroad, and Doctor Abbot prepared to walk across to the butcher for a gossip, and thus wait for some one else to come along.

He stepped briskly from his house, for he was "schrammed" with cold in his white drill clothing. As he approached the energetic butcher, he saw a man entering the market-place from the southern extremity of the settlement. He paused to look closely at the new-comer. In a moment he recognized Thompson, one of the clerks from Lablache's store. He conjectured at once that this man might be able to supply him with the information he desired, and so changed his direction and went across to meet him.

"Mornin', Thompson," he said, peering keenly into the pale, haggard face of the money-lender's employee. "What's up with you? You look positively ill. Have you heard how the arrest went off last night?"

There was a blunt directness about the doctor which generally drove straight to the point. The clerk wearily pa.s.sed his hand across his forehead. He seemed half asleep, and, as the doctor had a.s.serted, thoroughly ill.

"Arrest, doctor? Precious little arrest there's been. I've been out on the prairie all night. What, haven't you heard about the governor? Good lor'! I don't know what's going to happen to us all. Do you think we're safe here?"

"Safe here? What do you mean, man?" the doctor answered, noting the other's fearful glances round. "Why, what ails you? What about Lablache?"

Others had now appeared upon the market-place and Doctor Abbot saw "Lord" Bill, dressed in a gray tweed suit, and looking as fresh as if he had just emerged from the proverbial bandbox, coming leisurely towards him.

"What about Lablache, eh?" replied Thompson, echoing the doctor's question ruefully. "A pretty nice thing Horrocks and his fellows have let themselves, and us, in for."

Bill had come up now and several others had joined the group. They stood by and listened while the clerk told his story. And what a story it was too. It was vividly sanguinary, and enough to strike terror into the hearts of his audience.

He told with great gusto of how Lablache had been abducted. How the police horses and the money-lender's had been stolen from the stables at the store. He dwelt on the frightful horrors committed up at the Breed camp. How he had seen the police shot down before his very eyes, and he became expansive on the fact that, with his own hands, Retief had carried off Horrocks, and how he had heard the raider declare his intention of hanging him. It was a terrible tale of woe, and his audience was thrilled and horrified. "Lord" Bill alone appeared unmoved.

A close observer even might have noticed the faintest suspicion of a smile at the corners of his mouth. The smile broadened as the sharp doctor launched a question at the narrator of terrible facts.

"How came you to see all this, and escape?"

Thompson was at no loss. He told how he had been sent up by "Poker" John to find Horrocks and tell him about Lablache. How he arrived in time to see the horrors perpetrated, and how he only managed to escape with his own life by flight, under cover of the darkness, and how, pursued by the bloodthirsty Breeds, he had managed to hide on the prairie, where he remained until daylight, and then by a circuitous route got back to the settlement.

"I tell you what it is, doctor," he finished up consequentially, "the Breeds are in open rebellion, and, headed by that devil, Retief, intend to clear us whites out of the country. It's the starting of another Riel rebellion, and if we don't get help from the Government quickly, it's all up with us. That's my opinion," and he gazed patronizingly upon the crowd, which by this time had a.s.sembled.

"Nonsense, man," said the doctor sharply. "Your opinion's warped.

Besides, you're in a blue funk. Come on over to 'old man' Smith's and have a 'freshener.' You want bucking-up. Coming, Bill?" he went on, turning to Bunning-Ford. "I want an 'eye-opener' myself. What say to a 'Collins'?"

The three moved away from the crowd, which they left horrified at what it had heard, and eagerly discussing and enlarging upon the sanguinary stories of Thompson.

"Poker" John was already at the saloon when the three reached the door of "old man" Smith's reeking den. The proprietor was sweeping the bar, in a vain effort to clear the atmosphere of the nauseating stench of stale tobacco and drink. John was propped against the bar mopping up his fourth "Collins." He usually had a thirst that took considerable quenching in the mornings now. His over-night potations were deep and strong. Morning "nibbling" had consequently become a disease with him.

"Old man" Smith, with a keen eye to business, systematically mixed the rancher's morning drinks good and strong.

Bill and the doctor were not slow to detect the condition of their old friend, and each felt deeply on the subject. Their cheery greetings, however, were none the less hearty. Smith desisted in his dusty occupation and proceeded to serve his customers.

"We're having lively times, John," said the doctor, after emptying his "long sleever." "Guess Retief's making things 'hum' in Foss River."

"Hum? Shout is more like it," drawled Bill. "You've heard all the news, John?"

"I've enough news of my own," growled the rancher.

"Been up all night. I see you've got Thompson with you. What did Horrocks do after you told him about Lablache?" he went on, turning to the clerk.

Bill and the doctor exchanged meaning glances. The clerk having found a fresh audience again repeated his story. "Poker" John listened carefully. At the close of the narrative he snorted disdainfully and looked from the clerk to his two friends. Then he laughed loudly. The clerk became angry.

"Excuse me, Mr. Allandale, but if you doubt my word--"

"Doubt your word, boy?" he said, when his mirth had subsided. "I don't doubt your word. Only I've spent most of the night up at the Breed camp myself."

"And were you there, sir, when Horrocks was captured?"

"No, I was not. After you came to my place and went on to the camp, I was very uneasy. So, after a bit, I got my 'hands' together and prepared to follow you up there. Just as I was about to set out," he went on, turning to the doctor and Bill, "I met Jacky coming in. Bless you if she hadn't been to see the pusky herself. You know," with a slight frown, "that child is much too fond of those skulking Breeds. Well, anyway, she said everything was quiet enough while she was there and," turning again to Thompson, "she had seen nothing of Retief or Horrocks or any of the latter's men. We just put our heads together, and she convinced me that I was right, after what had occurred at the store, and had better go up.

So up I went. We searched the whole camp. I guess we were there for nigh on three hours. The place was quiet enough. They were still dancing and drinking, but not a blessed sign of Horrocks could we find."