With Hoops of Steel Part 13

Jim got up and walked away and presently called Haney. Wellesly lay down and pulled his hat over his face. He fell into a light slumber and awoke himself with a snore. He heard the voices of the two men, and so he kept on snoring, listening intently, meanwhile, to their conversation. He could not hear all that they said, but he soon found that they were talking about the lost mine.

"If this here tenderfoot ain't lyin'," said Jim, "the Winters mine ain't far from here. I know these mountains and I know this here spring is the only sweet water within ten miles, yes, twenty of 'em, unless there may be one up so high among the cliffs that nothing but a goat could find it. If d.i.c.k Winters' mine is in the southern part of the Oro Fino mountains it's somewhere within two miles of us."

Then he heard them talk about "finishing up" with him and coming back to look for the mine. Haney suggested that as they had enough provisions to last two or three days longer they might spend a day examining the near-by canyons and "finish up" with Wellesly afterward.

"If we find the stuff," he heard Haney say, "and this chap don't conclude to be reasonable, we can leave 'im 'ere. If 'e does come to time, we'll 'ave so much the more."

Then they walked farther away and Wellesly heard no more. His scheme was coming out as he wished, for they would of course take him with them, and in their search for the lost mine they might become so interested that their vigilance would relax and he would find an opportunity to slip away un.o.bserved. He thought he could find his way out of the mountains by following the downward course of the canyons.

That would be sure to bring him to the desert.

After breakfast the next morning Haney said:

"Well, Mr. Wellesly, do you think you would like to go to El Paso to-morrow?"

Wellesly looked him squarely in the eye and replied: "I have no business in El Paso and do not care to go there."

An ugly look came into Haney's face, and Wellesly saw that his captors were ready to throw off all pretense and take extreme measures.

"Well," said Haney; "this is what we've decided to do. We'll give you till to-morrow morning to make up your mind whether you'll go to El Paso and give us ten thousand dollars apiece for taking you there. If you don't want to get away that bad, that big rock will roll down into this canyon and shut up that outlet and you will stay 'ere and starve.

We are going to leave you 'ere alone to-day to think the matter over, and we are going to tie you fast to that big tree, so you won't 'ave anything to distract your attention. We'll be back to-night and then you can 'ave your supper and I 'ope we'll find you in a reasonable frame of mind."

Jim approached with a picket rope, and Wellesly whitened with anger.

For a moment, earth and sky turned black before him, and before he realized what he was doing he had hit Jim a smashing blow in the jaw.

Jim staggered backward, and then, with a howling oath, whipped out and leveled his revolver. Haney, who had grabbed one of Wellesly's wrists and was struggling to keep it in his grasp, jumped between them and shouted in a tone of command: "Don't shoot, Jim, don't shoot! You'll spoil the whole game if you kill 'im!"

Jim lowered his revolver sullenly and vented his anger in vile epithets instead of bullets.

"'Ere, stop your swearing and grab that arm," said Haney. "You can't blame the man for kicking. You or me would do the same thing in 'is place. Now push 'im up against this pine tree and 'and me the rope.

I'm sorry we 'ave to treat you this way, Mr. Wellesly, but if you won't be reasonable it's the only thing we can do."

Wellesly struggled at first, but he soon realized that they were much the stronger and wasted no more strength in useless resistance, though grinding his teeth with rage. They tied his arms to his body, and then, standing him upright, bound him close against the tree. They stepped back and Jim shook his fist at the captive.

"I'll get even with you yet," he shouted, "for the way you took me in the jaw! If you ain't ready to do what we want to-morrow morning you won't get a chance to starve, you hear me shout! I'll wait till then, but I won't wait no longer!"

"Shut up, Jim! Don't be a fool!" said Haney. "After 'e's meditated about it all day 'e'll be reasonable."

Wellesly did not speak, but the two men read a "never surrender" in his blazing eyes. Haney laughed excitedly and said, replying to his look:

"You'll feel differently to-night, Mr. Wellesly. That rope's likely to 'ave a big effect on your state of mind. Jim, we don't want to leave any knives on 'im."

They went through his pockets and took out everything they contained, dividing the money between them, while Haney took charge of his papers. Then they made ready for their own trip, saddling their horses and preparing to lead the two others.

"We won't leave 'im the least possibility of getting away," said Haney to Jim, "even if 'e should 'appen to get loose."

"He'll never get out of that rope till we let him out."

"If the 'orses ain't 'ere he won't 'ave any temptation to try. 'E'd never undertake the desert alone and afoot."

As they started, Haney called out, as good-naturedly as if they were the best of friends: "Good morning, Mr. Wellesly! I 'ope we'll find you more reasonable to-night."

Jim took out his revolver and turned in his saddle toward the captive.

Haney grabbed his arm.

"Don't you worry," said Jim. "I ain't a-goin' to kill him, like I ought to do. I'm just a-goin' to put my mark on him."

Wellesly heard the clicking of the trigger and the thought sped through his mind that this was his last moment on earth. He saw the flash and heard the report, and then it seemed many long minutes until the whizzing of the bullet filled his ear and he heard it thump into the bark of the tree beside his head. There was a stinging in the rim of his left ear, where it had nicked out a little rounded segment.

"There!" said Jim, with an ugly laugh, as he put away his gun, "he's my maverick now, and if anybody else claims him there'll be war."

CHAPTER XIII

The next morning after his arrest Nick Ellhorn was released on bail.

He came out thoroughly sobered, and when he learned what had been the result of his drunken trick his vocabulary of abusive epithets ran dry in his effort to characterize his conduct.

"How did you happen to get drunk, Nick?" Judge Harlin asked. "I thought you had quit. What did you do it for?"

"Sure, and what did I do it for?" said Nick, and the strong Irish accent in his speech told how deeply he felt his misdeed. For he was always most Irish when most moved. "I reckon," he went on, and the rolling intonation fell from his tongue like a faint breath from the green isle itself, "I reckon I did it just to show my friends what a measly, coyote, white-livered, tackey, ornery, spavined, colicky, mangy, blitherin' sort of a beast I am. Sure, now, Judge, I just wanted everybody to know what a gee-whillikined d.a.m.n fool I can be if I try. And they know, now. Oh, yes, they know. There's nothin' more I can tell. Hold on, Judge! Sure, and I'm thinkin' it all came along of the way I mixed my drinks yesterday when I first struck the Palmleaf.

I had beer, and whisky, and some mint juleps, yes, and maybe a c.o.c.ktail, and I think there was some more beer--yes, there was more beer, and I think likely that I had some brandy up there in that sick man's room. For I seem to remember that I took a drink of brandy because it was goin' to kill him if he drank it, and so I took it in his place. Yes, I must have had some brandy, sure, because nothin' but brandy will set me up that way. Now, just look at that, Judge! Ain't that a fine lay-out for a man to swallow that knows better? If I'd never been inside a saloon before there'd be some excuse. But me a-mixin' my drinks like that! It's plumb ridiculous!"

"Jim Halliday isn't sorry you did it. He's as proud as a boy with his first pants over the haul he made yesterday. I hear he's going to be measured for a brand-new, tailor-made cartridge belt and six-shooter as a memento of the occasion."

"He'd better hurry up, then, before the occasion turns a back somersault on him. I reckon what he needs most is a new hat that will be about six sizes too big for him a week from now. Jim Halliday's all right as long as he keeps to his own side of the street, but he'd better not come over here or he'll be filled so full of bullets that he won't know himself from a dice box. Say, Judge, what's become of that John Chiny's pigtail they say I cut off?"

"I suppose it's in the hands of the district attorney and will be brought in as part of the evidence when your case is tried."

"Harry Gillam's got it, has he? Well, I want it myself. It's mine, and I want it as a reminder not to mix my drinks. What had I better do about this business, Judge?"

"There's only one thing you can do, Nick--plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court, and trust to your confounded Irish luck to get you off easy."

Nick Ellhorn sent a telegram to Thomson Tuttle to return as quickly as possible and then attended to the shipment of Emerson Mead's cattle.

When he appeared on Main street again in the afternoon he found the town dividing itself into two hostile camps. The Palmleaf and the White Horse saloons were, respectively, the headquarters of the two factions, and men were dropping their work and leaving their shops and offices to join the excited crowds that filled the two saloons and gathered in groups on the sidewalks. On the west side of Main street the general temper was pleased, exultant, and inclined to jeer at the other side whenever a Republican met a Democrat. On the east side, anger and the determination to get even, shone in men's eyes and sounded in their talk.

In the afternoon news came that the territorial district court had decided in favor of the Democrats a controversy over the sheriff's office that had been going on ever since the election the previous autumn, when on the face of the returns the Republican candidate, John Daniels, had been declared elected. The Democrats had cried "fraud," and carried the case into the courts, where it had ever since been crawling slowly along, while Daniels held the office. The election had been so hotly contested that each side had counted more votes than had been registered. But each had felt so confident that it could cover up its own misdeeds and hide behind its execration of those of its enemy that neither had had any doubt about the outcome.

The news of the decision embittered the quarrel which had been opened by the arrest of Emerson Mead. There were threats of armed resistance if the Democrats should attempt to take the office, and both John Daniels and Joe Davis, who had been the Democratic candidate, went about heavily armed and attended by armed friends as bodyguards, lest sudden death at the mouth of a smoking gun should end the dispute.

Toward night the angry talk and the buzzing rumors again centered about Emerson Mead. It began to be said on the west side of the street that this whole controversy over the sheriff's office had been worked up by Mead and his friends in order that they might get his party into power and, under its protection, hara.s.s the cattle company and by arrests and murders ruin their business and take their stock. As the talk whizzed and buzzed along the street men grew more and more reckless and angry in their a.s.sertions. They lashed themselves into a state in which they really believed, for the time being, that Mead's continued existence would be a peril to themselves and a danger to the community. Suggestions of lynching were hazarded and quickly taken up and discussed. There were many who thought this the best thing that could be done, and a little group of these got together in the coolest corner of the White Horse saloon and formed themselves into a secret vigilance committee. News of these things came by way of the back door into Judge Harlin's office. He took the lead on the Democratic side of the street and organized a party of twelve of their bravest men and best shots to guard the jail during the night and resist any attempt to take out Emerson Mead. He was careful also to see that news of what he was doing was carried to the leaders on the other side. Late in the evening he and Ellhorn and the rest of their party posted themselves in dark corners and convenient hiding-places in the neighborhood of the jail. An hour or more pa.s.sed and there was no sign that the vigilance committee had survived the fervors of the afternoon. Finally Nick Ellhorn began to suspect what had happened and he called Judge Harlin to account.

"I call it downright mean, Judge," he complained, "to bring us fellows out here in the hope of havin' a scrimmage and then send the other side word we're here, so they'll be sure not to come! You'll be runnin' on their ticket next thing we know! Now that we are out here and all ready for business, and nothin' to do, we'd better just slam-bang ourselves against that jail over there and get Emerson out."

Judge Harlin, Ellhorn, Joe Davis and two others were standing in the recess of a deep doorway under a _portal_. On the top of the _portal_, stretched at full length, with one ear over the edge, lay a Mexican listening to their talk. He could not hear Harlin's reply to Nick's suggestion, but one of the others quickly agreed. The listener did not wait to hear more, and in five minutes the back room of the White Horse saloon was in a bustle of excitement. John Daniels and Jim Halliday called for a posse of citizens to help them defend the jail, and the party set out at once on a quick run up the street.

Judge Harlin was trying to restrain Ellhorn's enthusiasm over the idea of a.s.saulting the jail. "No, Nick," he said, "we don't want to do anything illegal. We are all right so far, because we are here to protect human life and uphold the law. But the minute you throw yourself against the doors of the jail you forfeit the law's protection and--"

"Here they come!" Nick interrupted excitedly. His quick ear had caught the hurried tramp of the approaching party.