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THE    DESIRE 
OFTME/AOTM 


EUGENE  MANLOVE  RHODES 


THE  DESIRE  OF 
THE  MOTH 

AND 

THE  COME   ON 

BY, 
EUGENE  MANLOVE  RHODES1 

AUTHOR  OF 

BRANSFORD  OF  RAINBOW  RANGE, 

GOOD  MEN  AND  TRUE, 

WEST  IS  WEST,  ETC. 

ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

H.  T.  DUNN 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1920,  by 
.THE  H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

They  were  riding  hard     .        .         .    Frontispiece 
"  Gentlemen— be  seated! "  38 


w: 


THE   DESIRE   OF  THE   MOTH 
Chapter  I 

"Little  Next  Door — her  years  are  few — 
Loves  me,  more  than  her  elders  do; 
Says,  my  wrinkles  become  me  so; 
Marvels  much  at  the  tales  I  know. 
Says,  we  shall  marry  when  she  is  grown M 


THE  little  happy  song  stopped  short. 
John  Wesley  Pringle,  at  the  mesa's  last 
headland,  drew  rein  to  adjust  his  geography. 
This  was  new  country  to  him. 

Close  behind,  Organ  Mountain  flung  up  a: 
fantasy  of  spires,  needle-sharp  and  bare  and 
golden.  The  long  straight  range — saw- 
toothed  limestone  save  for  this  twenty-mile 
sheer  upheaval  of  the  Organ — stretched  away 
to  north  and  south  against  the  unclouded  sky, 
till  distance  turned  the  barren  gray  to  blue- 


2  The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

black,  to  blue,  to  misty  haze;  till  the  sharp, 
square-angled  masses  rounded  to  hillocks — 
to  a  blur — a  wavy  line — nothing. 

More  than  a  hundred  miles  to  the  north 
west,  two  midget  mountains  wavered  in  the 
sky.  John  Wesley  nodded  at  their  unforgot- 
ten  shapes  and  pieced  this  vast  landscape  to 
the  patchwork  map  in  his  head.  Those  toy 
hills  were  San  Mateo  and  Magdalena. 
Pringle  had  passed  that  way  on  a  bygone 
year,  headed  east.  He  was  going  west,  now. 

"  I'm  too  prosperous  here,"  he  had  ex 
plained  to  Beebe  and  Ballinger,  his  partners 
on  Rainbow.  "  I'm  tedious  to  myself.  Guess 
I'll  take  a  pasear  back  to  Prescott.  Rail 
road?  Who,  me?  Why,  son,  I  like  to  travel 
when  I  go  anywheres.  Just  starting  and  ar 
riving  don't  delight  me  any.  Besides,  I  don't 
know  that  strip  along  the  border.  I'll  ride." 

It  was  a  tidy  step  to  Prescott — say,  as  far 
as  from  Philadelphia  to  Savannah,  or  from 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth  3 

Richmond  to  Augusta ;  but  John  Wesley  had 
made  many  such  rides  in  the  Odyssey  of  his 
wonder  years.  Some  of  them  had  been 
made  in  haste.  But  there  was  no  haste  now. 
Sam  Bass,  his  corn-fed  sorrel,  was  hardly 
less  sleek  and  sturdy  than  at  the  start,  though 
a  third  of  the  way  was  behind  him.  Pringle 
rode  by  easy  stages,  and  where  he  found  him 
self  pleased,  there  he  tarried  for  a  space. 

With  another  friendly  nod  to  the  northward 
hills  that  marked  a  day  of  his  past,  Pringle 
turned  his  eyes  to  the  westlands,  outspread 
and  vast  before  him.  To  his  right  the  desert 
stretched  away,  a  mighty  plain  dotted  with 
low  hills,  rimmed  with  a  curving,  jagged 
range.  Beyond  that  range  was  a  nothing 
ness,  a  hiatus  that  marked  the  sunken  valley 
of  the  Rio  Grande;  beyond  that,  a  headlong 
infinity  of  unknown  ranges,  tier  on  tier,  yel 
low  or  brown  or  blue ;  broken,  tumbled,  hud 
dled,  scattered,  with  gulfs  between  to  tell  of 


4  The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

unseen  plains  and  hidden  happy  valleys — al 
together  giving  an  impression  of  rushing 
toward  him,  resistless,  like  the  waves  of  a 
stormy  sea. 

At  his  feet  the  plain  broke  away  sharply, 
in  a  series  of  steplike  sandy  benches,  to  where 
the  Rio  Grande  bore  quartering  across  the 
desert,  turning  to  the  Mexican  sea ;  the  Me- 
silla  Valley  here,  a  slender  ribbon  of  mossy 
green,  broidered  with  loops  of  flashing  river 
— a  ribbon  six  miles  by  forty,  orchard,  wood 
land,  and  green  field,  greener  for  the  desolate 
gray  desert  beyond  and  the  yellow  hills  of 
sand  edging  the  valley  floor.  Below  him 
Las  Uvas,  chief  town  of  the  valley,  lay  bask 
ing  in  the  sun,  tiny  square  and  street  bordered 
with  greenery:  its  domino  houses  white- 
walled  in  the  sun,  with  larger  splashes  of  red 
from  courthouse  or  church  or  school. 

Far  on  the  westering  desert,  beyond  the 
valley,  Pringle  saw  a  white  feather  of  smoke 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth  5 

from  a  toiling  train;  beyond  that  a  twisting 
gap  in  the  blue  of  the  westmost  range. 

"  That's  our  road."  He  lifted  his  bridle 
rein.  "  Amble  along,  Sam !  " 

To  that  amble  he  crooned  to  himself,  pleas 
antly,  half-dreamily — as  if  he  voiced  indi 
rectly  some  inner  thought — quaint  snatches 
of  old  song: 

"  She  came  to  the  gate  and  she  peeped  in — 
Grass  and  the  weeds  up  to  her  chin; 
Saidj  f  A  rake  and  a  hoe  and  a  fantail  plow 
Would  suit  you  better  than  a  wife  just  now.'  * 

And  again: 

"  Schooldays  are  over  now, 

Lost  all  our  bliss; 
But  love  remembers  yet 

Quarrel  and  kiss. 
Still,  as  in  days  of  yore " 


Then,  after  a  long  silence,  with  a  thought 
ful  earnestness  that  Rainbow  would  scarce 
have  credited,  he  quoted  a  verse  from  what 
he  was  wont  to  call  Billy  Beebe's  Bible : 


6  The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  One  Moment  in  Annihilation  s  waste, 
One  Moment  of  the  Well  of  Life  to  taste — 
The  Stars  are  setting,  and  the  Caravan 

Starts  for  the  Dawn  of Nothing.     Oh,  make 

haste!" 

After  late  dinner  at  the  Gadsden  Purchase, 
Pringle  had  tidings  of  the  Motion  Picture 
Palace ;  and  thither  he  bent  his  steps.  He  was 
late  and  the  palace  was  a  very  small  palace 
indeed;  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  spied  in 
the  semidarkness  an  empty  seat  in  a  side  sec 
tion.  A  fat  lady  and  a  fatter  man,  in  the 
seats  nearest  the  aisle,  obligingly  moved  over 
rather  than  risk  any  attempt  to  squeeze  by. 

Beyond  them,  as  he  took  the  end  seat, 
Pringle  was  dimly  aware  of  a  girl  who  looked 
at  him  rather  attentively. 

He  turned  his  mind  to  the  screen,  where  a 
natty  and  noble  young  man,  with  a  chin,  bit 
off  his  words  distinctly  and  smote  his  extended 
palm  with  folded  gloves  to  emphasize  the  re 
marks  he  was  making  to  a  far  less  natty  man 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth  7 

with  black  mustaches.  John  Wesley  rightly 
concluded  that  this  second  man,  who  gnashed 
his  teeth  so  convincingly,  and  at  whom  an  in 
credibly  beautiful  young  lady  looked  with 
haughty  disdain,  was  the  villain,  and 
foiled. 

The  blond  and  shaven  hero,  with  a  mag 
nificent  gesture,  motioned  the  villain  to  be 
gone  !  That  baffled  person,  after  waiting 
long  enough  to  register  despair,  spread  his 
fingers  across  his  brow  and  be-went;  the  hero 
turned,  held  out  his  arms;  the  scornful 
young  beauty  crept  into  them.  Click!  On 
the  screen  appeared  a  scroll: 

Keep  Your  Seats.    Two  Minutes  to  Change 
Reels. 

The  lights  were  turned  on.  Pringle  looked 
at  the  crowd — girls,  grandmas,  mothers  with 
their  families,  many  boys,  and  few  men; 
Americans,  Mexicans,  well-dressed  folk  and 


8  The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

roughly  dressed,  all  together.  Many  were 
leaving;  among  them  Pringle's  fat  and  oblig 
ing  neighbors  rose  with  a  pleasant:  "  Excuse 
me,  please !  " 

A  stream  of  newcomers  trickled  in  through 
the  door.  As  Pringle  sat  down  the  lights 
were  dimmed  again.  Simultaneously  the  girl 
he  had  noticed  beyond  the  fat  couple  moved 
over  to  the  seat  next  to  his  own.  Pringle  did 
not  look  at  her;  and  a  little  later  he  felt  a 
hand  on  his  sleeve. 

"  Tut,  tut!  "  said  Pringle  in  a  tolerant  un 
dertone.  "  Why,  chicken,  you're  not  trying 
to  get  gay  with  your  old  Uncle  Dudley,  are 
you?" 

"  John  Wesley  Pringle !  "  came  the  answer 
in  a  furious  whisper,  each  indignant  word  a 
missile.  "  How  dare  you!  How  dare  you 
speak  to  me  like  that?  " 

"  What !  "  said  Pringle,  peering.  "  What ! 
Stella  Vorhis !  I  can  hardly  believe  it  I " 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth  9 

"  But  it's  oh-so-true !  "  said  Stella,  rising. 
"  Let's  go — we  can't  talk  here." 

'*  That  was  one  awful  break  I  made.  I 
most  sincerely  and  humbly  beg  your  pardon," 
Pringle  said  on  the  sidewalk. 

Stella  laughed. 

u  That's  all  right — I  understand — forget 
it!  You  hadn't  looked  at  me.  But  I  knew 
you  when  you  first  came  in — only  I  wasn't 
sure  till  the  lights  were  turned  on.  Of  course 
it  would  be  great  fun  to  tease  you — pretend  to 
be  shocked  and  dreadfully  angry,  and  all  that 
— but  I  haven't  got  time.  And  oh,  John  Wes 
ley,  I'm  so  delighted  to  see  you  again !  Let's 
go  over  to  the  park.  Not  but  what  I  was 
dreadfully  angry,  sure  enough,  until  I  had  a 
second  to  thinL  Why  don't  you  say  you're 
glad  to  see  me — after  five  years?  " 

"  Stella  1  You  know  I  am.  Six  years, 
please.  But  I  thought  you  were  still  in  Pres- 
cott?" 


io         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  We  came  here  three  years  ago.  Here's  a 
bench.  Now  tell  it  to  me !  " 

But  Pringle  stood  beside  and  looked  down 
at  her  without  speech,  with  a  smile  unex 
pected  from  a  face  so  lean,  so  brown,  so  year- 
bitten  and  iron-hard — a  smile  which  happily 
changed  that  face,  and  softened  it. 

The  girl's  eyes  danced  at  him. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,  John  Wesley! 
Good  old  Wes !  " 

"  So  I  am — both  those  little  things.  Six 
years!"  he  said  slowly.  "Dear  me — dear 
both  of  us !  That  will  make  you  twenty-five. 
You  don't  look  a  day  over  twenty-four !  But 
you're  still  Stella  Vorhis?" 

She  met  his  gaze  gravely;  then  her  lids 
drooped  and  a  wave  of  red  flushed  her  face. 

"  I  am  Stella  Vorhis— yet." 

"  Meaning—  for  a  little  while  yet?" 

"  Meaning,  for  a  little  while  yet.  That 
will  come  later,  John  Wesley.  Oh,  I'll  tell 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          11 

you,  but  not  just  now.  You  tell  about  John 
Wesley,  first — and  remember,  anything  you 
say  may  be  used  against  you.  Where  have 
you  been  ?  Were  you  dead  ?  Why  didn't  you 
write?  Has  the  world  used  you  well?  Sit 
down,  Mr.  John  Wesley  Also-Ran  Pringle, 
and  give  an  account  of  yourself!  " 

He  sat  beside  her:  she  laid  her  hand  across 
his  gnarled  brown  fingers  with  an  uncon 
scious  caress. 

"  It's  good  to  see  you,  old-timer!  Begin 
now — I,  John  Wesley  Pringle,  am  come  from 
going  to  and  fro  upon  the  earth  and  from 
walkng  up  and  down  in  it.  But  I  didn't  ask 
you  where  you  were  living.  Perhaps  you 
have  a — home  of  your  own  now." 

John  Wesley  firmly  lifted  her  slim  fingers 
from  his  hand  and  as  firmly  deposited  them 
in  her  lap. 

"  Kindly  keep  your  hands  to  yourself, 
young  woman,"  he  said  with  stately  dignity. 


12         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  Here  is  an  exact  account  of  all  my  time 
since  I  saw  you :  I  have  been  hungry,  thirsty, 
sleepy,  tired.  To  remedy  these  evils,  upon 
expert  advice  I  have  eaten,  drunk,  slept,  and 
rested.  I  have  worked  and  played,  been  dull 
and  gay,  busy  and  idle,  foolish  and  unwise. 
That's  all.  Oh,  yes — I'm  living  in  Rainbow 
Mountain ;  cattle.  Two  pardners — nice  boys 
but  educated.  Had  another  one;  he's  mar 
ried  now,  poor  dear — and  just  as  happy  as  if 
he  had  some  sense." 

"You're  not?" 

"  Not  what — happy  or  married?  " 

"Married,  silly !" 

"And  I'm  not.  Now  it's  your  turn* 
Where  do  you  live?  Here  in  town?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  Dad's  got  a  farm  twenty  miles 
up  the  river  and  a  ranch  out  on  the  flat.  I 
just  came  down  on  the  morning  train  to  do  a 
little  shopping  and  go  back  on  the  four-forty- 
eight — and  I'll  have  to  be  starting  soon. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          13 

You'll  walk  down  to  the  station  with  me?" 

"But  the  sad  story  of  your  life?"  ob 
jected  Pr  ingle. 

u  Oh,  I'll  tell  you  that  by  installments. 
You're  to  make  us  a  long,  long  visit,  you 
know — just  as  long  as  you  can  stay.  You're 
horseback,  of  course?  Well,  then,  ride  up 
to-night.  Ask  for  Aden  Station.  We  live 
just  beyond  there." 

"  But  the  Major  was  a  very  hostile  major 
when  I  saw  him  last." 

"  Oh,  father's  got  all  over  that.  He 
hadn't  heard  your  side  of  it  then.  He  often 
speaks  of  you  now  and  he'll  be  glad  to  see 
you." 

"  To-morrow,  then.  My  horse  is  tired — 
I'll  stay  here  to-night." 

"  You'll  find  dad  changed,"  said  the  girl. 
"  This  is  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  has  ever 
been  at  ease  about  money  matters.  He's 
really  quite  well-to-do." 


14         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  That's  good.  I'm  doing  well  in  that  line 
too.  I  forgot  to  tell  you."  There  was  no 
elation  in  his  voice;  he  looked  back  with  a 
pang  to  the  bold  and  splendid  years  of  their 
poverty.  "  Then  the  Major  will  quit  wander 
ing  round  like  a  lost  cat,  won't  he?" 

"  I  think  he  likes  it  here — only  for  the 
crazy-mad  political  feeling;  and  I  think  he's 
settled  down  for  good." 

"  High  time,  I  think,  at  his  age." 

1  You  needn't  talk !  Dad's  only  ten  years 
older  than  you  are."  She  leaned  her  cheek 
on  her  hand,  she  brushed  back  a  little  stray 
tendril  of  midnight  hair  from  her  dark  eyes, 
and  considered  him  thoughtfully.  "  Why, 
John  Wesley,  I've  known  you  nearly  all  my 
life  and  you  don't  look  much  older  now  than 
when  I  first  saw  you." 

*  That  was  in  Virginia  City.  You  were 
just  six  years  old  and  your  pony  ran  away 
with  you.  We  were  great  old  chums  for  a 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          15 

month  or  so.  The  next  time  I  saw  you 
was—" 

"At  Bakersfield — at  mother's  funeral," 
said  the  girl  softly.  "  Then  you  came  to 
Prescott,  and  you  had  lost  your  thumb  in  the 
meantime;  and  I  was  Little  Next  Door  to 
you " 

"  And  Prescott  and  me,  we  agreed  it  was 
best  for  both  of  us  that  I  should  go 
away." 

(  Yes ;  and  when  you  came  back  you  were 
going  to  stay.  Why  didn't  you  stay,  John 
Wesley?" 

"  I  think,"  said  Pringle  reflectively,  "  that 
I  have  forgotten  that." 

"  Do  you  know,  John  Wesley,  I  have  never 
been  back  to  any  place  we  have  left  once? 
And  of  all  the  people  I  have  ever  known,  you 
are  the  only  one  I  have  ever  lost  track  of  and 
found  again.  And  you're  always  just  the 
same  old  John  Wesley;  always  gay  and 


1 6         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

cheerful;  nearly  always  in  trouble;  always 
strong  and  resourceful " 

"How  true!"  said  Pringle.  "  Yes,  yes; 
go  on  1  " 

'Well,  you  are!  And  you're  so — so  reli 
able;  like  Faithful  John  in  the  fairy  story. 
You're  different  from  anyone  else  I  know. 
You're  a  good  boy;  when  you  are  grown  up 
you  shall  have  a  yoke  of  oxen,  over  and 
above  your  wages." 

"  This  is  very  gratifying  indeed,"  observed 
Pringle.  "  But — a  sweetly  solemn  thought 
comes  to  me.  You  were  going  to  tell  me 
about  another  boy — the  onliest  little  boy?" 

"  He's  not  a  boy,"  said  Stella,  flushing 
hotly.  "  He's  a  man — a  man's  man.  You'll 
like  him,  John  Wesley — he's  just  your  kind. 
I'm  not  going  to  tell  you.  You'll  see  him  at 
our  house,  with  the  others.  And  he'll  be  the 
very  one  you'd  pick  out  for  me  yourself.  Of 
course  you'll  want  to  tease  me  by  pretending 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          17 

to  guess  someone  else ;  but  you'll  know  which 
one  he  is,  without  me  telling  you.  He  stands 
out  apart  from  all  other  men  in  every  way. 
Come  on,  John  Wesley — it's  time  to  go  down 
to  the  station." 

Pringle  caught  step  with  her. 

"  And  how  long — if  a  reliable  old  faithful 
John  may  ask — before  you  become  Stella 
Some-One-Else  ?" 

"  At  Christmas.  And  I  am  a  very  lucky 
girl,  John.  What  an  absurd  convention  it  is 
that  people  are  never  supposed  to  congratu 
late  the  girl — as  if  no  man  was  ever  worth 
having!  Silly,  isn't  it?" 

"  Very  silly.    But  then,  it's  a  silly  world." 

"  A  delightful  world,"  said  Stella,  her  eyes 
sparkling.  u  You  don't  know  how  happy  I 
am.  Or  perhaps  you  do  know.  Tell  me  hon 
estly,  did  you  ever  1 — like  anyone,  this  way?  " 

"  I  refuse  to  answer,  by  advice  of  counsel," 
said  John  Wesley,  "  I'll  say  this  much, 


1 8          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

though.  X  marks  no  spot  where  any  Annie 
Laurie  gave  me  her  promise  true." 

When  the  train  had  gone  John  Wesley 
wandered  disconsolately  back  to  his  hotel  and 
rested  his  elbows  on  the  bar.  The  white- 
aproned  attendant  hastened  to  serve  him. 

"What  will  it  be,  sir?" 

"  Give  me  a  gin  pitfall,"  said  John  Wesley. 


Chapter  II 

feet?" 
"  Horrible ! "  said  Anastacio. 

Matthew  Lisner,  sheriff  of  Dona  Ana,  bent 
a  hard  eye  on  his  subordinate. 

11  It's  got  to  be  done,"  he  urged.  "  To  elect 
our  ticket  we  must  have  all  the  respectable 
and  responsible  people  of  the  valley.  If  we 
can  provoke  Foy  into  an  outbreak " 

"  Not  we — you,"  corrected  Anastacio. 
"  Myself,  I  do  not  feel  provoking." 

u  Are  you  going  to  lay  down  on  me?  " 

"If  you  care  to  put  it  that  way — yes.  Kit 
Foy  is  just  the  man  to  leave  alone." 

"  Now,  listen !  "  said  the  sheriff  impa 
tiently.  "  Half  the  valley  is  owned  by  new 
comers,  men  of  substance,  who,  with  the 

votes  they  influence  or  control,  will  decide 
19 


20         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

the  election.  Foy  is  half  a  hero  with  them, 
because  of  these  vague  old  stories.  But  let 
him  be  stirred  up  to  violence  now  and  you'll 
see !  They  won't  see  any  romance  in  it — 
just  an  open  outrage;  they  will  flock  to  us  to 
the  last  man.  Ours  is  the  party  of  law  and 
order " 

"  Law  to  order,  some  say." 

The  veins  swelled  in  the  sheriff's  heavy 
face  and  thick  neck;  he  regarded  his  deputy 
darkly. 

"  That  comes  well  from  you,  Barela ! 
Don't  you  see,  with  the  law  on  our  side  all 
these  men  of  substance  will  be  with  us  uncon 
ditionally?  I  tell  you,  Christopher  Foy  is 
the  brains  of  his  party.  Once  he  is  dis 
credited " 

"  And  I  tell  you  that  I  am  the  brains  of 
your  party  and  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with 
your  fine  plan.  'Tis  an  old  stratagem  to  call 
oppression,  law,  and  resistance  to  oppression, 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          21 

lawlessness.  You  tried  just  that  in  ninety- 
six,  didn't  you?  And  I  never  could  hear  that 
our  side  had  any  the  best  of  it  or  that  the 
good  name  of  Dona  Ana  was  in  any  way  bet 
tered  by  our  wars.  Come,  Mr.  Lisner — the 
Kingdom  of  Lady  Ann  has  been  quiet  now 
for  nearly  eight  years.  Let  us  leave  it  so. 
For  myself,  the  last  row  brought  me  reputa 
tion  and  place,  made  me  chief  deputy  under 
two  sheriffs — so  I  need  have  the  less  hesita 
tion  in  setting  forth  my  passionate  preference 
for  peace. " 

"  You  have  as  much  to  gain  as  I  have," 
growled  the  sheriff.  "  Besides  your  own 
cinch,  you  have  one  of  your  genie  for  deputy 
in  every  precinct  in  the  county." 

"  Exactly !  And  if  we  have  wars  again, 
who  but  the  Barelas  would  bear  the  brunt? 
No,  no,  Mr.  Matt  Lisner;  while  I  may  be  a 
merely  ornamental  chief  deputy,  it  will  never 
be  denied  that  I  am  a  very  careful  chief  to 


22         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

my  gente.  Be  sure  that  I  shall  think  more 
than  once  or  twice  before  I  set  a  man  of  my 
men  at  a  useless  hazard  to  pleasure  you-r- 
or  to  reelect  you." 

"  You  speak  plainly." 

"  I  intend  to.  I  speak  for  three  hundred — 
and  we  vote  solid.  Make  no  mistake,  Mr. 
Lisner.  You  need  me  in  your  business,  but 
I  can  do  nicely  without  you/' 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  be  sheriff  your 
self." 

"  I  might  like  it — except  that  I  am  not  as 
young  and  foolish  as  I  was,."  said  Anastacio, 
smiling.  "  Now  that  I  am  so  old,  and  so  wise 
and  all,  it  is  clear  to  see  that  neither  my 
self  nor  any  of  the  fighting  men  of  the 
mad  old  days — on  either  side — should  be 
sheriff." 

"  You  were  not  always  so  thoughtful  of  the 
best  interests  of  the  dear  pee-pul,"  sneered 
the  sheriff. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          23 

"  That  I  wasn't.  I  was  as  silly  and  hot- 
brained  a  fool  as  either  side  could  boast. 
But  you,  Sheriff,  are  neither  silly  nor  hot 
headed.  In  cold  blood  you  are  planning  that 
men  shall  die;  that  other  men  shall  rot  in 
prison.  Why?  For  hate  and  revenge ?  Not 
even  that.  Oh,  a  little  spice  of  revenge,  per 
haps;  Foy  and  his  friends  made  you  some 
thing  of  a  laughing  stock.  But  your  main 
motive  is — money.  And  I  don't  see  why. 
You've  got  all  the  money  any  one  man  needs 


now." 


"  I  notice  you  get  your  share." 

"  I  hope  so.  But,  even  as  a  money-making 
proposition,  your  troubled-voters  policy  is  a 
mistake.  All  the  mountain  men  want  is  to  be 
let  alone,  and  you  might  be  sheriff  for  life 
for  all  they  care.  But  you  fan  up  every  little 
bicker  into  a  lawsuit — don't  I  know?  Just 
for  the  mileage — ten  cents  a  mile  each  way  in 
a  county  that's  jam  full  of  miles  from  one 


24         The  Desire  of  the  MotK 

edge  to  the  other;  ten  cents  a  mile  each  way 
for  each  and  every  arrest  and  subpoena.  You 
drag  them  to  court  twice  a  year — the  farmer 
at  seed  time  and  harvest,  the  cowman  from 
the  spring  and  fall  round-ups.  It  hurts,  it 
cripples  them,  they  ride  thirty  miles  to  vote 
against  you ;  it  costs  you  all  the  extra  mileage 
money  to  offset  their  votes.  As  a  final  folly, 
you  purpose  deliberately  to  stir  up  the  old 
factions.  What  was  it  Napoleon  said?  '  It 
is  worse  than  a  crime:  it  is  a  blunder.'  I'll 
tell  you  now,  not  a  Barela  nor  an  Ascarate 
shall  stir  a  foot  in  such  a  quarrel.  If  you 
want  to  bait  Kit  Foy,  do  it  yourself — or  set 
your  city  police  on  him." 

"  I  will." 

A  faint  tinge  of  color  came  to  the 
clear  olive  of  Anastacio's  cheek  as  he 
rose. 

"  But  don't  promise  my  place  to  any  of 
them,  sheriff.  I  might  hear  of  it." 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         25 

"  Stranger,"  said  Ben  Creagan,  "  you  can't 
play  pool  I  I  can't — and  I  beat  you  four 
straight  games.  You  better  toddle  your  little 
trotters  off  to  bed."  The  words  alone  might 
have  been  mere  playfulness ;  glance  and  tone 
made  plain  the  purposed  offense. 

The  after-supper  crowd  in  the  hotel  bar 
room  had  suddenly  slipped  away,  leaving 
Max  Barkeep,  three  others,  and  John  Wesley 
Pringle — the  last  not  unnoting  of  nudge  and 
whisper  attending  the  exodus.  Since  that, 
Pringle  had  suffered,  unprotesting,  more 
gratuitous  insults  than  he  had  met  in  all  the 
rest  of  his  stormy  years.  His  curiosity  was 
aroused;  he  played  the  stupid,  unseeing,  pa 
tient,  and  timid  person  he  was  so  eminently 
not.  Plainly  these  people  desired  his  ab 
sence;  and  Pringle  highly  resolved  to  know 
why.  He  now  blinked  mildly. 

"But  I'm  not  sleepy  a-tall,"  he  ob 
jected. 


26         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

He  tried  and  missed  an  easy  shot;  he 
chalked  his  cue  with  assiduous  care. 

"  Here,  you !  Quit  knockin'  those  balls 
round!"  bawled  Max,  the  bartender. 
"  What  you  think  this  is — a  kindergarten?" 

"  Why,  I  paid  for  all  the  games  I  lost, 
didn't  I?"  asked  Pringle,  much  abashed. 

He  mopped  his  face.  It  was  warm,  though 
the  windows  and  doors  were  open. 

"  Well,  nobody's  going  to  play  any  more 
with  you,"  snapped  Max.  "  You  bore  'em." 

He  pyramided  the  balls  and  covered  the 
table.  With  a  sad  and  lingering  backward 
look  Pringle  slouched  abjectly  through  the 
wide-arched  doorway  to  the  bar. 

"  Come  on,  fellers — have  something." 

"Naw!"  snarled  Jose  Espalin.  "I'm 
a-tryin'  to  theenk.  Shut  up,  won't  you  ?  " 

Pringle  sighed  patiently  at  the  rebuff  and 
stole  a  timid  glance  at  the  thinker.  Espalin 
was  a  lean  little,  dried-up  manikin,  with  legs, 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         27 

arms,  and  mustaches  disproportionately  long 
for  his  dwarfish  body.  His  black,  wiry  hair 
hung  in  ragged  witchlocks ;  his  black  pin-point 
eyes  were  glittering,  cold,  and  venomous. 
He  looked,  thought  Pringle,  very  much  like 
a  spider. 

"  I'm  steerin'  you  right,  old  man,"  said 
Creagaru  "  You'd  better  drag  it  for  bed." 

"  I  ain't  sleepy,  I  tell  you." 

Espalin  leaped  up,  snarling. 

"Say!  You  lukeing  for  troubles,  maybe? 
Bell,  I  theenk  thees  hombre  got  a  gun.  Shall 
we  freesk  him?  " 

As  he  flung  the  query  over  his  shoulder  his 
beady  little  eyes  did  not  leave  Pringle's. 

Bell  Applegate  got  leisurely  to  his  feet — a 
tall  man,  well  set  up,  with  a  smooth-shaved, 
florid  face  and  red  hair. 

"  If  he  has  we'll  jack  him  in  the  jug."  He 
threw  back  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  displaying 
a  silver  star. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  But  I  ain't  got  no  gun,"  protested  John 
Wesley  meekly.  "  You-all  can  see  for  your- 
self." 

'  We  will — don't  worry !  Don't  you  make 
one  wrong  move  or  I'll  put  out  your 
light!" 

"Be  you  the  sheriff?" 

"Police.    Go  to  him,  Ben!" 

"  No  gun,"  reported  Ben  after  a  swift 
search  of  the  shrinking  captive. 

"  I  done  told  you  so,  didn't  I?  " 

"  Mighty  good  thing  for  you,  old  rooster. 
Gun-toting  is  strictly  barred  in  Las  Uvas. 
You  got  to  take  your  gun  off  fifteen  minutes 
after  you  get  in  from  the  road  and  you  can't 
put  it  on  till  fifteen  minutes  before  you  take 
the  road  again." 

;<  Is  that — er — police  regulations  or  state 
law?" 

14  State  law — and  has  been  any  time  these 
twenty-five  years.  Say,  you  doddering  old 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          29 

fool,  what  do  you  think  this  is — a  night 
school?" 

"  I — I  guess  I'll  go  to  bed,"  said  Pringle 
miserably. 

"  I — I  guess  if  you  come  back  I'll  throw 
you  out,"  mimicked  Ben  with  a  guffaw. 

Pringle  made  no  answer.  He  shuffled  into 
the  hall  and  up  the  stairway  to  his  bedroom. 
He  unlocked  the  door  noisily;  he  opened  it 
noisily;  he  took  his  sixshooter  and  belt  from 
the  wall  quietly  and  closed  the  door,  noisily 
again ;  he  locked  it — from  the  outside.  Then 
he  did  a  curious  thing;  he  sat  down  very  gen 
tly  and  removed  his  boots. 

The  four  in  the  barroom  listened,  grinning. 
When  they  heard  Pringle's  door  slam  shut 
Bell  Applegate  nodded  and  Creagan  went  out 
on  the  street.  Behind  him,  at  a  table  near 
the  pool-room  door,  the  law  planned  ways 
and  means  in  a  slinking  undertone. 


30         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  You  keep  in  the  background,  Joe.  Let  us 
do  the  talking.  Foy  just  naturally  despises 
you — we  might  not  get  him  to  stay  the  fif 
teen  minutes  out.  You  stay  back  there.  Re 
member  now,  don't  shoot  till  Ben  lets  him 
get  his  arm  loose.  Sabe?" 

"  Maybe  Meester  Ben  don't  find 
heem." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  will.  Ditch  meeting  to-night. 
Ought  to  be  out  about  now.  Setting  the  time 
to  use  the  water  and  assessing  fatiga  work. 
Every  last  man  with  a  water  right  will  be 
there,  sure,  and  Foy's  got  a  dozen.  Max, 
you  are  to  be  a  witness,  remember,  and  you 
mustn't  be  mixed  up  in  it.  Got  your  story 
straight?" 

"  Foy  he  comes  in  and  makes  a  war-talk 
about  Dick  Marr,"  recited  Max.  "  After  we 
powwow  awhile  you  see  his  gun.  You  tell 
him  he's  under  arrest  for  carryin'  concealed 
weapons.  You  and  Ben  grabbed  his  arm;  he 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          31 

jerked  loose  and  went  after  his  gun.  And 
then  Joe  shot  him." 

"  That's  it.  We'll  all  stick  to  that.  S-sti 
Here  they  come !  " 

There  are  men  whose  faces  stand  out  in  a 
crowd,  men  you  turn  to  look  after  on  the 
street.  Such — quite  apart  from  his  sprightly 
past — was  Christopher  Foy,  who  now  entered 
with  Creagan.  He  was  about  thirty,  above 
middle  height,  every  mold  and  line  of  him 
slender  and  fine  and  strong.  His  face  was 
resolute,  vivacious,  intelligent;  his  eyes  were 
large  and  brown,  pleasant  and  fearless.  A 
wide  black  hat,  pushed  back  now,  showed  a 
broad  forehead  white  against  crisp  coal-black 
hair  and  the  pleasant  tan  of  neck  and  cheek. 
But  it  was  not  his  dark,  forceful  face  alone 
that  lent  him  such  distinction.  Rather  it  was 
the  perfect  poise  and  balance  of  the  man, 
the  ease  and  unconscious  grace  of  every  swift 
and  sure  motion.  He  wore  a  working  garb 


32         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

now — blue  overalls  and  a  blue  rowdy.  But 
he  wore  them  with  an  air  that  made  him  well 
dressed. 

Foy  paused  for  a  second;  Applegate  rose. 

"  Well,  Chris !  "  he  laughed.  "  There  has 
been  a  time  when  you  might  not  have  fancied 
this  particular  bunch — hey?  All  over  now, 
please  the  pigs.  Come  in  and  give  it  a  name. 
Beer  for  mine." 

"  I'll  smoke,"  said  Foy. 

"  Me  too,"  said  Espalin. 

He  lit  a  cigar  and  returned  to  his  chair. 
Ben  Creagan  passed  behind  the  bar  and 
handed  over  a  sixshooter  and  a  cartridge 
belt. 

"  Here,  Chris — here's  the  gun  I  borrowed 
of  you  when  I  broke  mine.  Much  obliged." 

Foy  twirled  the  cylinder  to  make  sure  the 
hammer  was  on  an  empty  chamber  and 
buckled  the  belt  under  his  rowdy. 

"  My  hardware  is  mostly  plows  and  scrap- 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          33 

ers  and  irrigating  hoes  nowadays,"  he  re 
marked.  u  Good  thing  too." 

"  All  the  same,  Foy,  I'd  keep  a  gun  with 
me  if  I  were  you.  Dick  Marr  is  drinking 
again— and  when  he  soaks  it  up  he  gets  dis 
contented  over  old  times,  you  know."  Apple- 
gate  lowered  his  voice,  with  a  significant 
glance  at  Espalin.  "  He  threatened  your  life 
to-day.  I  thought  you  ought  to  know  it." 

Foy  considered  his  cigar. 

"  That's  awkward,"  he  replied  briefly. 

"Chris,"  said  Ben,  "  this  isn't  the  first 
time.  Dick's  heart  is  bad  to  you.  I'm  sorry. 
He  was  my  friend  and  you  were  not.  But 
you're  not  looking  for  any  trouble  now. 
Dick  is.  And  I'm  afraid  he'll  keep  on  till 
he  gets  it.  Me  and  the  sheriff  we  managed 
to  get  him  off  to  bed,  but  he  says  he's  going 
to  shoot  you  on  sight — and  I  believe  he  means 
it.  You  ought  to  have  him  bound  over  to 
keep  the  peace." 


34         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

Foy  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  I  can't  do  that — and  it  would  only  make 
him  madder  than  ever.  But  I'll  get  out  of 
his  way  and  keep  out  of  his  way.  I'll  go  up 
to  the  Jornado  to-night  and  stay  with  the  Bar 
Cross  boys  awhile.  He  won't  come  up 
there." 

"  You'll  enjoy  having  people  tellin'  how 
you  run  away  to  keep  from  meeting  Dick 
Marr?"  said  Applegate  incredulously. 

"Why  shouldn't  they  say  it?  It  will  be 
exactly  true,"  responded  Foy  quietly,  "  and 
you're  authorized  to  say  so.  I'm  learning 
some  sense  now;  I'm  getting  to  own  quite  a 
mess  of  property;  I'm  going  to  be  married 
soon;  and  I  don't  want  to  fight  anyone.  Be 
sides,  quite  apart  from  my  own  interests, 
other  men  will  be  drawn  into  it  if  I  shoot  it 
out  with  Marr.  No  knowing  where  it  will 
stop.  No,  sir;  I'll  go  punch  cows  till  Marr 
quiets  down.  Maybe  it's  just  the  whisky  talk- 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          35 

ing.  Dick  isn't  such  a  bad  fellow  when  he's 
not  fighting  booze.  Or  maybe  he'll  go  away. 
He  hasn't  much  to  keep  him  here." 

u  Say,  I  could  get  a  job  offered  to  him  out 
in  San  Simon,"  said  Applegate,  bright 
ening. 

His  eye  rested  on  the  clock  over  the  long 
mirror.  He  stepped  over  to  the  show  case, 
clipped  the  end  from  a  cigar  and  obtained  a 
light  from  a  shapely  bronze  lady  with  a  torch. 
When  he  came  back  he  fell  in  on  Foy's  left; 
at  Foy's  right  Creagan  leaned  his  elbows  on 
the  bar. 

"  Well,  I'm  obliged  to  you,  boys,"  said 
Foy.  '  This  one's  on  me.  Come  on,  Joe — 
have  a  hoot." 

'  Thanks,  no,"  said  Espalin.  "  I  not 
dreenkin'  none  thees  times.  Eef  I  dreenk 
some  I  get  full,  and  loose  my  job  maybe." 

"  Vichy,"  said  Foy.  "  Take  something 
yourself,  Max." 


36         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

As  Mr.  Max  poured  the  drinks  an  odd  ex 
perience  befell  Mr.  Jose  Espalin.  His  tilted 
chair  leaned  against  the  casing  of  the  billiard- 
room  door.  As  Max  filled  the  first  glass 
Espalin  became  suddenly  aware  of  something 
round  and  hard  and  cold  pressed  against  his 
right  temple.  Mr.  Espalin  felt  some  curios 
ity,  but  he  sat  perfectly  still.  The  object 
shifted  a  few  inches;  Mr.  Espalin  perceived 
from  the  tail  of  his  eye  the  large,  unfeeling 
muzzle  of  a  sixshooter;  beyond  it,  a  glimpse 
of  the  forgotten  elderly  stranger,  Mr. 
Pringle. 

Only  Mr.  Pringle's  fighting  face  appeared, 
and  that  but  for  a  moment;  he  laid  a  finger  to 
lip  and  crouched,  hidden  by  the  partition  and 
by  Espalin's  body.  Mr.  Espalin  gathered 
that  Pringle  desired  no  outcry  and  shunned 
observation;  he  sat  motionless  accordingly; 
he  felt  a  hand  at  his  belt,  which  removed  his 
gun. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          37 

"  Happy  days !  "  said  Foy,  and  raised  his 
glass  to  his  lips. 

Creagan  seized  the  uplifted  wrist  with 
both  hands,  Applegate  pounced  on  the  other 
arm.  Pringle  leaped  through  the  doorway. 
But  something  happened  swifter  than 
Pringle's  swift  rush.  Foy's  knee  shot  up 
to  Applegate's  stomach.  Applegate  fell, 
sprawling.  Foy  hurled  himself  on  Creagan 
and  bore  him  crashing  to  the  floor.  Foy 
whirled  over;  he  rose  on  one  hand  and  knee, 
gun  drawn,  visibly  annoyed ;  also  considerably 
astonished  at  the  unexpected  advent  of  Mr. 
Pringle.  Applegate  lay  groaning  on  the  floor. 
Pringle  kicked  his  gun  from  the  holster  and 
set  foot  upon  it;  one  of  his  own  guns  covered 
the  bartender  and  the  other  kept  watch  on 
Espalin,  silent  on  his  still-tilted  chair. 

"  Who're  you  !  "  challenged  Foy. 

"  Friend  with  the  countersign.  Don't 
shoot!  Don't  shoot  me,  anyhow." 


38          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

Foy  rose  from  hand  and  knee  to  knee  and 
foot.  This  rescuer,  so  opportunely  arrived 
from  nowhere,  seemed  to  be  an  ally.  But 
to  avoid  mistakes,  Foy's  gun  followed 
Pringle's  motions,  at  the  same  time  willing 
and  able  to  blow  out  Creagan's  brains  if  ad 
visable.  He  also  acquired  Creagan's  gun 
quite  subconsciously. 

"  Let  me  introduce  myself,  gentlemen, " 
said  Pringle.  "  I'm  Jack-in-a-Pinch,  Little 
Friend  of  the  Under  Dog — see  Who's  This  ? 
page  two-thirteen.  My  German  friend,  come 
out  from  behind  that  bar — hands  up — step 
lively !  Spot  yourself !  My  Mexican  friend, 
join  Mr.  Max.  Move,  you  poisonous  little 
spider — jump!  That's  better !  Gentlemen — 
be  seated!  Right  there — smack,  slapdab 
on  the  floor.  Sit  down  and  think.  Say! 
I'm  serious.  Am  I  going  to  have  to  kill 
some  few  of  you  just  because  you  don't 
know  who  lam?  I'll  count  three!  One! 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          39 

two! — That's  it.  Very  good — hold  that — 
register  anticipation!  I  am  a  worldly  man," 
said  Pringle  with  emotion,  "  but  this  spec 
tacle  touches  me — it  does  indeed !  " 

u  I'll  get  square  with  you !  "  gurgled  Ap- 
plegate,  as  fiercely  as  his  breathless  condition 
would  permit. 

"George — may  I  call  you  George?  I 
don't  know  your  name.  You  may  get  square 
with  me,  George — but  you'll  never  be  square 
with  anyone.  You  are  a  rhomboidinaltitudin- 
ous  isosohedronal  catawampus,  George !  " 

George  raved  unprintably.  He  made  a 
motion  to  rise,  but  reconsidered  it  as  he  noted 
the  tension  of  Pringle's  trigger  finger. 

"  Don't  be  an  old  fuss-budget,  George," 
said  Pringle  reprovingly.  "  Because  I  for 
got  to  tell  you — I've  got  my  gun  now — and 
yours.  You  won't  need  to  arrest  me,  though, 
for  I'm  hitting  the  trail  in  fifteen  minutes. 
But  if  I  wasn't  going — and  if  you  had  your 


40         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

gun — you  couldn't  arrest  one  side  of  me. 
You  couldn't  arrest  one  of  my  old  boots! 
Listen,  George!  You  heard  this  Chris-gen 
tleman  give  his  reasons  for  wanting  peace? 
Yes?  Well,  it's  oh-so-different  here.  I  hate 
peace  !  I  loathe,  detest,  abhor,  and  abominate 
peace !  My  very  soul  with  strong  disgust  is 
stirred — by  peace !  I'm  growing  younger 
every  year,  I  don't  own  any  property  here, 
I'm  not  going  to  be  married;  I  ain't  feeling 
pretty  well  anyhow;  and  if  you  don't  think 
I'll  shoot,  try  to  get  up !  Just  look  as  if  you 
thought  you  wanted  to  wish  to  try  to  make 
an  effort  to  get  up." 

"How — who "  began  Creagan;  but 

Pringle  cut  him  short. 

u  Ask  me  no  more,  sweet!  You  have  no 
speaking  part  here.  We'll  do  the  talking.  I 
just  love  to  talk.  I  am  the  original  tongue- 
tied  man;  I  ebb  and  flow.  Don't  let  me  hear 
a  word  from  any  of  you!  Well,  pardner?  " 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         41 

Foy,  still  kneeling  in  fascinated  amaze, 
now  rose.  Creagan's  nose  was  bleeding  pro 
fusely. 

"  That  was  one  awful  wallop  you  handed 
our  gimlet-eyed  friend,"  said  Pringle  admir 
ingly.  "  Neatest  bit  of  work  I  ever  saw. 
Sir,  to  you  !  My  compliments !  "  He  placed 
a  chair  near  the  front  door  and  sat  down. 
"  I  feel  like  a  lion  in  a  den  of  Daniels,"  he 
sighed. 

"  But  how  did  you  happen  to  be  here  so 
handy?"  inquired  Foy. 

"  Didn't  happen — I  did  it  on  purpose," 
said  John  Wesley.  "  You  see,  these  four 
birds  tipped  their  hand.  All  evening  they 
been  instructing  me  where  I  got  off.  They 
would-ed  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove,  so 
I  might  fly  far,  far  away  and  be  at  rest. 
Now,  I  put  it  to  you,  do  I  look  like  a 
dove?" 

"  Not  at  present,"  laughed  Foy. 


42         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  Well,  I  didn't  like  it — nobody  would.  I 
see  there  was  a  hen  on,  I  knew  the  lay  of  the 
ground  from  looking  after  my  horse.  So 
I  clomped  off  to  bed,  got  my  good  old  Ex- 
calibur  gun — full  name  X.  L.  V.  Caliber — 
slipped  off  my  boots,  tippytoed  down  the  back 
stairs  like  a  Barred  Rock  cat,  oozed  in  by  the 
side  door — and  here  I  be !  I  overheard  their 
pleasant  little  plan  to  do  you.  I  meant  to  do 
the  big  rescue  act,  but  you  mobilize  too  quick 
for  me.  All  the  same,  maybe  it's  as  well  I 
chipped  in,  because — take  a  look  at  them 
cartridges  in  your  gun,  will  you?  Your 
own  gun — the  one  they  borrowed  from 
you." 

Foy  twisted  a  bullet  from  a  cartridge. 
There  was  no  powder.  The  four  men  on  the 
floor  looked  unhappy  under  his  thoughtful 
eye. 

"Nice  little  plant— what?  Do  we  kill 
'em?"  said  Pringle  cheerfully.  "I  don't 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         43 

know  the  rules  well  enough  to  break  them. 
What  was  the  big  idea  ?  Was  they  vexed  at 
you,  son?  " 

"  It  would  seem  so,"  said  Foy,  smiling. 
"  We  had  a  little  war  here  a  spell  back.  I 
suspect  they  wanted  to  stir  it  up  again  for 
political  effect.  Election  this  fall." 

"  And  you  were  not  in  their  party?  I 
see !  "  said  Pringle,  nodding  intelligently. 
"  Well,  they  sure  had  it  fixed  to  make  your 
side  lose  one  vote — fixed  good  and  proper. 
The  Ben-boy  was  to  let  your  right  hand  loose 
and  the  Joe-boy  was  to  shoot  you  as  you 
pulled  your  gun.  Why,  if  you  had  lived  to 
make  a  statement  your  own  story  woulda 
mighty  near  let  them  out." 

"  I  believe  that  I  am  greatly  obliged  to 
you,  sir." 

"  I  believe  you  are,"  said  Pringle.  "  And 
— but,  also,  I  know  the  two  gentlemen  you 
were  drinking  with  should  be  very  grateful 


44         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

to  you.  They  had  just  half  a  second  more  to 
live — and  you  beat  me  to  it.  Too  bad! 
Well,  what  next  ?" 

Foy  pondered  a  little. 

u  I  guess  I'll  go  up  to  the  Bar  Cross 
wagon,  as  I  intended,  till  things  simmer 
down.  The  Las  Uvas  warriors  seldom  ever 
bother  the  Bar  Cross  Range.  My  horse  is 
hitched  up  the  street.  How'd  you  like  to 
go  along  with  me,  stranger?  You  and  me 
would  make  a  fair-sized  crowd. " 

11  I'd  like  it  fine  and  dandy,"  said  Pringle. 
u  But  I  got  a  little  visit  to  make  to-morrow. 
Maybe  I'll  join  you  later.  I  like  Las  Uvas," 
stated  John  Wesley,  beaming.  "  Nice,  lively 
little  place !  I  think  I'll  settle  down  here 
after  a  bit.  Some  of  the  young  fellows  are 
shy  on  good  manners.  But  I  can  teach  'em. 
I'd  enjoy  it.  ...  Now,  let's  see :  If  you'll 
hold  these  lads  a  few  minutes  I'll  get  my 
boots  and  saddle  up  and  bring  my  horse  to 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         45 

the  door;  then  I'll  pay  Max  my  hotel  bill  and 
talk  to  them  while  you  get  your  horse;  and 
we'll  ride  together  till  we  get  out  in  the  open. 
How's  that  for  a  lay?" 

That  was  a  good  lay,  it  seemed;  and  it 
was  carried  out — with  one  addition:  After 
Foy  brought  his  horse  he  rang  Central  and 
called  up  the  sheriff. 

"  Hello!  That  you,  Mr.  Lisner?  This 
is  Kitty  Foy,"  he  said  sweetly.  "  Sheriff,  I 
hate  to  bother  you,  but  old  Nueces  River, 
your  chief  of  police,  is  out  of  town.  And  I 
thought  you  ought  to  know  that  the  police 
force  is  all  balled  up.  They're  here  at  the 
Gadsden  Purchase.  Bell  Applegate  is  sick — 
seems  to  be  indigestion;  Espalin  is  having  a 
nervous  spell;  and  Ben  Creagan  is  bleeding 
from  his  happiest  vein.  You'd  better  come 
see  to  'em.  Good-by !  " 

Pringle  smiled  benevolently  from  the 
door. 


46          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

'  There  !  I  almost  forgot  to  tell  you  boys. 
We  disapprove  of  your  actions  oh-very- 
much !  You  know  you  were  doing  what  was 
very,  very  wrong — like  three  little  mice  that 
were  playing  in  the  barn  though  the  old 
mouse  said :  *  Little  mice,  beware  !  When  the 
owl  comes  singing  "  Too-whoo  "  take  care !  ' 
If  you  do  it  again  we  shall  consider  it  de 
liberately  unfriendly  of  you.  .  .  .  Well,  I'll 
toddle  my  decrepit  old  bones  out  of  this. 
Eleven  o'clock !  How  time  has  flown,  to  be 
sure !  Thank  you  for  a  pleasant  evening. 
Good-by,  George.  Good-by,  all!  Be  good 
little  boys — go  nighty-nighty !  " 

They  raced  to  the  corner,  scurried  down 
the  first  side  street,  turned  again,  and  slowed 
to  a  gallop.  Pringle  was  in  high  feather;  he 
caroled  blithesome  as  he  rode  : 

"  So   those   three  little   oivls  Hew  back   up  in   the 

barn — 
Inky,  dinky,  dovdum,  day! 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         47 

And  they  said,  '  Those  little  mice  make  us  feel 

so  nice  and  warm  I ' 
Inky,  dinky,  doodum,  day! 
Then  they  all  began  to  sing,  '  Too-whit!    Too- 

who! ' 

I  don't  think  much,  of  this  song,  do  you? 
But    there's    one    thing    about    it — 'tis    certainly 
true — 
Inky,  dinky,  doodum,  day!" 

They  reached  the  open;  the  gallop  became 
a  trot. 

"  I  go  north  here,"  said  Foy  at  the  cross 
roads  above  the  town.  "  Which  way  for 
you?" 

"North  too,"  said  Pringle.  "I  don't 
know  just  where,  but  you  can  tell  me.  I  go 
to  a  railroad  station  first — Aden.  Then  to 
the  Vorhis  place?  " 

"  Vorhis?  I'm  going  there  myself?  "  said 
Foy.  "  You  didn't  tell  me  your  name  yet." 

"  Pringle." 

"What?  Not  John  Wesley  Pringle? 
Great  Scott,  man!  I've  heard  Stella  talk 


48          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

about  you  a  thousand  times.  Say,  I'm  sure 
glad  to  meet  you !  My  name's  Foy — Christo 
pher  Foy." 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Pringle.    "  I  think  I've 
heard  Stella  speak  of  you,  too." 


Chapter  III 

BEING  a  child  must  have  been  great  fun 
—once.  Nowadays  one  would  as  lief  be 
a  Strasburg  goose.  When  you  and  I  went  to 
school  it  was  not  quite  so  bad.  True,  neither 
of  us  could  now  extract  a  cube  root  with  a 
stump  puller,  and  it  is  sad  to  reflect  how  little 
call  life  has  made  for  duodecimals.  Some 
times  it  seems  that  all  our  struggle  with 
moody  verbs  and  insubordinate  conjunctions 
was  a  wicked  waste — poor  little  sleepy  puz- 
zleheads!  But  there  were  certain  joyous 
facts  which  we  remember  yet.  Lake  Erie 
was  very  like  a  whale;  Lake  Ontario  was  a 
seal;  and  Italy  was  a  boot. 

The  great  Chihuahuan  desert  is  a  boot  too ; 
a  larger  boot  than  Italy.  The  leg  of  it  is 
in  Mexico,  the  toe  is  in  Arizona,  the  heel  in 

49 


5<3         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

New  Mexico ;  and  the  Jornado  is  in  the  boot- 
heel. 

El  Jornado  del  Muerto — the  Journey  of 
the  Dead  Man !  From  what  dim  old  legend 
has  the  name  come  down?  No  one  knows. 
The  name  has  outlived  the  story. 

Perhaps  some  grim,  hard-riding  Spaniard 
made  his  last  ride  here;  weary  at  last  of 
war,  turned  his  dead  face  back  to  Spain 
and  the  pleasant  valleys  of  his  childhood. 
We  have  a  glimpse  of  him,  small  in  the 
mighty  silence;  his  faithful  few  about  him, 
with  fearful  backward  glances;  a  gray  sea  of 
waving  grama  breaking  at  their  feet;  the 
great  mountains  looking  down  on  them. 
Plymouth  Rock  is  unnamed  yet. — Then  the 
mist  shuts  down. 

The  Santa  Fe  Trail  reaches  across  the 
Jornado;  tradition  tells  of  vague,  wild  bat 
tles  with  Apache  and  Navajo;  there  are 
grave-cairns  on  lone  dim  ridges,  whereon 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         51 

each  passer  casts  a  stone.  Young  mothers 
dreamed  over  the  cradles  of  those  who  now 
sleep  here,  undreaming;  here  is  the  end  of 
all  dreams. 

Doniphan  passed  this  way;  Kit  Carson 
rode  here;  the  Texans  journeyed  north  along 
that  old  road  in  '62 — to  return  no  more. 

These  were  but  passers-by.  The  history  of 
the  Jornado,  of  indwellers  named  and  known, 
begins  with  six  Americans,  as  follows:  San- 
doval,  a  Mexican;  Toussaint,  a  Frenchman; 
Fest,  a  German;  Martin,  a  German;  Roul- 
lier,  a  Swiss;  and  Teagardner,  a  Welshman. 

You  might  have  thought  the  Jornado  a 
vast  and  savage  waste  or  a  pleasant  place  and 
a  various.  That  depended  upon  you.  Ma 
terials  for  either  opinion  were  plenty;  lava 
flow,  saccaton  flats,  rolling  sand  hills  sage 
brush,  mesquite  and  yucca,  bunch  grass  and 
shallow  lakes,  bench  and  hill,  ridge  and 
groundswell  and  wandering  draw;  always  the 


52         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

great  mountains  round  about;  the  mountains 
and  the  warm  sun  over  all. 

A  certain  rich  man  desired  to  be  Presi 
dent — to  please  his  wife,  perhaps.  He  was  a 
favorite  son  sure  of  his  home-state  vote  in 
any  grand  old  national  convention.  He  gave 
largely  to  charities  and  campaign  funds,  and 
his  left  hand  would  have  been  justly  aston 
ished  to  know  what  his  right  hand  was  about. 

Those  were  bargain-counter  days.  Fum 
bling  the  wares,  our  candidate  saw,  among 
other  things,  that  New  Mexico  had  six  con 
ventional  votes.  He  sent  after  them. 

So  the  Bar  Cross  Cattle  Company  was 
founded;  range,  the  Jornado.  Our  candidate 
provided  the  money  and  a  manager,  also 
ambidextrous  with  instructions  to  get  those 
votes  and  incidentally  to  double  the  money,  as 
a  good  and  faithful  manager  should. 

He  got  the  six  votes,  but  our  candidate 
never  became  president.  Poor  fellow,  his 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          53 

millions  could  not  bring  him  happiness.  He 
died,  an  embittered  and  disappointed  man,  in 
the  obscurity  of  the  United  States  Senate. 

The  Bar  Cross  brand  was  the  sole  fruit 
of  that  ambition.  Other  ranches  had  dwin 
dled  or  vanished;  favored  by  environment 
the  Bar  Cross,  almost  alone,  withstood  the 
devastating  march  of  progress.  It  was  still 
a  mark  of  distinction  to  be  a  Bar  Cross  man. 
The  good  old  customs — and  certain  bad  old 
customs,  too — still  held  on  the  Bar  Cross 
Range,  fifty  miles  by  one  hundred,  on  the  Jor- 
nado.  Scattered  here  and  there  were  smaller 
ranches:  among  them  the  V  H — the  Vorhis 
Ranch. 

Stella  Vorhis  and  John  Wesley,  far  out  on 
the  plain,  rode  through  the  pleasant  after 
noon.  The  V  H.  Ranch  was  in  sight  now, 
huddled  low  before  them;  beyond,  a  cluster 
of  low  hills  rose  from  the  plain,  visible  center 
of  a  world  fresh,  eager,  and  boundless. 


54         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

The  girl's  eye  kindled  with  delight  as  it 
sought  the  far  horizons,  the  misty  parapets 
gleaming  up  through  the  golden  air;  she  was 
one  who  found  dear  and  beautiful  this  gray 
land,  silent  and  ensunned.  She  flung  up  her 
hand  exultingly. 

"Isn't  it  wonderful,  John  Wesley?  Do 
you  know  what  it  makes  me  think  of?  This : 

'  .  .  .  Magic  casements,  opening  on  the  foam 
Of  perilous  seas,  in  faery  lands  forlorn!' 

"  Think,  John !  This  country  hasn't 
changed  a  bit  since  the  day  Columbus  set 
out  from  Spain." 

"  How  true  !  Fine  old  bird,  Columbus — he 
saw  America  first.  Great  head  he  showed, 
too,  getting  himself  named  Christopher. 
Otherwise  you  might  have  said,  '  the  day  An 
tony  discovered  Cleopatra  ' — or  something 
like  that.  Wise  old  Chris !  " 

Stella's  eyes  narrowed  reflectively. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          55 

"  John  Wesley,  you've  been  reading !  You 
never  used  to  know  anything  about  Mark 
Antony." 

"  I  cribbed  that  remark  from  Billy  Beebe 
and  he  swiped  it  from  a  magazine.  I  don't 
know  much  about  Mark,  even  this  very  yet. 
Good  old  easy  Mark!  " 

"  That's  the  how  of  it.  You've  been  ab 
sorbing  knowledge  from  those  pardners  of 
yours.  Your  talk  shows  it.  You're  changed 
a  lot — that  way.  Every  other  way  you're 
the  same  old  Wes!  " 

"  Now,  that  sounds  better!  "  said  Pringle 
in  his  most  complacent  tones.  "  I  want  to 
talk  about  myself,  always,  Stella  May  Vor- 
his;  we've  come  thirty  miles  and  I've  heard 
Christopher  Foy,  Foy,  Foy,  all  the  way !  It's 
exasperating!  It's  sickening!  " 

But  Stella  was  not  to  be  flustered.  She 
held  her  head  proudly. 

:<  It's  you  that  have  been  talking  about 


56         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

him.  I  told  you  you'd  like  him,  John  Wes 
ley." 

"  Yes,  you  did — and  I  do.  He's  a  self- 
starter.  He's  a  peppermist.  He's  a  regular 
guy.  It  wasn't  only  the  way  he  smashed 
those  thugs — taken  by  surprise  and  all — 
but  that  he  had  judgment  enough  not  to 
shoot  when  there  was  no  need  for  it;  that's 
what  gets  me  I  And  then  he  went  and  spoiled 
it  all." 

"How?" 

"  Hiking  on  up  to  the  ranch  with  the 
Major,  without  even  waking  you  up.  Why, 
if  it  was  me,  do  you  s'pose  I'd  leave  another 
man — no  matter  how  old  and  safe  he  was — 
to  tell  such  a  story  as  that  his  own  way  and 
hog  all  the  credit  for  himself?  That  Las 
Uvas  push  is  a  four-flush — he  needn't  stir 
a  peg  for  them.  No,  sir!  I'd  have  stayed 
right  there  till  you  got  ready  to  come — and 
every  time  I'd  narrate  that  tale  about  the 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          57 

scrap  it  would  get  scarier  and  scarier." 
"  I  know,  without  telling,  what  my  Chris 
does  is  the  brave  thing,  the  best  thing,"  said 
the  girl,  with  softly  shining  eyes.  "  And  he 
never  brags — any  more  than  you  do,  Wes. 
You're  always  making  fun  of  yourself.  And 
I'm  afraid  you  don't  know  how  serious  a 
menace  this  Las  Uvas  gang  is.  It  isn't  what 
Chris  may  do  or  may  not  do.  All  they  want 
is  a  pretext.  Why,  John,  there  are  men 
down  there  who  are  really  quite  truthful — as 
men  go — till  they  get  on  the  witness  stand. 
But  the  minute  they're  under  oath  they  begin 
to  lie.  Force  of  habit,  I  guess.  The  whole 
courthouse  ring  hates  Chris  and  fears  him — 
especially  Matt  Lisner,  the  sheriff.  In  the 
old  trouble,  whenever  he  was  outwitted  or 
outfought,  Chris  did  it.  Besides — —  She 
paused;  the  color  swept  to  her  cheek. 

"  Besides — you.       Yes,     yes,"     grumbled 
Pringle.       "  Might     have     been     expected. 


58          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

These  women!  Does  the  Foy-boy 
know?" 

"  He  knows  that  Lisner  wanted  to  marry 
me,"  said  Stella.  Neck  and  cheek  were  crim 
son  now;  but  it  was  characteristic  that  her 
level  eyes  met  Pringle's  fearlessly.  u  But  be 
fore  that — he — he  persecuted  me,  John. 
Chris  must  not  know.  He  would  kill  him. 
But  I  wanted  you  to  know  in  case  anything 
happened  to  Chris.  There  is  nothing  they 
will  stick  at,  these  men.  Lisner  is  the  vilest; 
he  hates  Chris  worst  of  all."  She  was  in 
deep  distress;  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as 
she  smiled  at  him.  "  And  I  wish — oh,  John 
Wesley,  you  don't  know  how  I  wish  you  were 
staying  here — dear  old  friend!  " 

"  As  a  dear  and  highly  valuable  old 
friend,"  said  Pringle  sedately,  "  let  me  point 
out  how  shrewd  and  sensible  a  plan  it  would 
be  for  you  and  your  Chris  to  go  on  a  honey 
moon  at  once — and  never  come  back." 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          59 

"  I  am  beginning  to  think  so.  Up  to  last 
night  I  had  only  my  fears  to  go  on." 

u  But  now  you  know.  We  managed  to 
make  a  joke  of  last  night — but  what  that 
push  had  in  mind  was  plain  murder.  I  would 
dearly  like/'  said  John  Wesley,  "  to  visit  Las 
Uvas — some  dark  night — in  a  Zeppelin." 

At  the  corral  gate  the  Major  met  them, 
with  a  face  so  troubled  that  Stella  cried  out 
in  alarm: 

"  Father!    What  is  it?    Chris?" 
"  Stella — be  brave  !    Dick  Marr  was  killed 
at  midnight — and  they're  swearing  it  off  on 
Chris." 

"  But  John  Wesley  was  with  him." 
u  That's  just  it.  Applegate  and  Creagan 
tell  it  that  they  saw  Chris  leaving  town  at 
eleven  o'clock,  that  he  said  he  was  coming 
up  here,  and  that  he  made  a  war-talk  about 
Marr.  But  not  a  word  about  Pringle  or  the 


60         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

fight  at  the  hotel.  Joe  Espalin  doesn't  ap 
pear — no  claim  that  he  saw  Foy  at  all." 

"  That  looks  ugly,"  observed  Pringle. 

"  Ugly !  Your  testimony  is  to  be  thrown 
out  as  a  lie  made  of  whole  cloth.  Espalin 
and  the  barkeeper  don't  appear.  They're 
afraid  the  Mexican  will  get  tangled  up,  and 
Max  will  swear  he  didn't  see  Chris  at  all. 
It's  cut  and  dried.  You  are  to  be  canceled. 
Marr  was  found  this  morning  at  the  first 
crossroad  above  town.  His  watch  was 
stopped  at  ten  minutes  to  twelve — mashed,  it 
seemed,  where  it  hit  on  a  stone  when  he  fell. 
If  they  had  told  about  the  mix-up  with  you 
and  Chris  last  night,  I  might  have  thought 
they  really  believed  Chris  killed  Marr — or 
suspected  it.  As  it  stands,  we  know  the  whole 
thing  is  a  black,  rotten  conspiracy." 

"But  where's  Chris?"  demanded  Stella, 
trembling. 

"  We  have  none  of  us  seen   Chris — you 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         61] 

want  to  remember  that.  You  won't  have  to 
lie,  Stella — you  didn't  see  him.  Pringle,  I 
bank  on  you." 

"  Sure !  I  can  lie  and  stick  to  it,  though 
I'm  sadly  out  of  practice,"  said  Pringle. 
"  But  hadn't  we  better  fix  up  the  same  history 
to  tell?  And  where's  your  man  Hargis  that 
stays  here?  Will  he  do?" 

"  Unsaddle  and  I'll  tell  you.  We've  only 
got  a  few  minutes.  I  saw  the  dust  of  them 
coming  down  from  the  north  as  I  drove  in 
this  bunch  of  saddle  horses.  Some  of  them 
went  up  by  train  to  Upham,  you  know. 
Hargis  has  gone  to  the  round-up,  and  Pm 
just  as  well  pleased.  I'm  not  sure  he  can  be 
trusted.  We  are  to  know  not  the  first  word 
of  what  has  happened.  We  haven't  seen 
Chris  and  haven't  heard  of  the  murder. 
Come  in — we'll  start  dinner  and  be  taken  by 
surprise.  Pringle,  throw  your  gun  over  on 
the  bunk.  Stella,  get  that  look  off  your  face. 


62          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

After  you  hear  the  news  you  can  look  any  old 
way  and  it'll  be  natural  enough.  But  you've 
got  to  be  unconcerned  and  unsuspicious  when 
they  first  come." 

He  started  a  fire.  Stella  set  about  prepar 
ing  dinner. 

'  Who  brought  the  news  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Joe  Cowan — and  a  relay.  Someone  rode 
to  Jeff  Isaack's  ranch  as  fast  as  ever  a  horse 
could  go.  Jeff  came  to  Quartzite;  Dodd 
passed  the  word  on  to  Goldenburg's  and 
Cowan  came  here.  At  every  ranch  they 
drove  all  the  fresh  saddle  horses  out  of  the 
way,  so  a  posse  couldn't  get  a  remount  with 
out  losing  time.  Kitty  Foy  has  got  good 
friends,  and  they  don't  believe  he'd  shoot  any 
man  in  the  back." 

"  And  Foy's  drifted  with  Cowan?  " 

"  He  hadn't  a  chance  to  get  clear,"  said 
the  Major.  :t  We  had  no  fresh  horses  here. 
They've  sworn  in  a  small  army  of  deputies. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         63 

Nearly  a  hundred  men  are  out  hunting  for 
him  by  this  time.  One  posse  was  to  go  up  the 
San  Andres  on  the  east,  leaving  a  man  at 
every  waterhole.  The  sheriff  wired  for  a 
special  train,  took  a  carload  of  saddle  horses 
and  dropped  a  couple  of  men  off  at  every 
station.  At  Upham  the  rest  of  them  were  to 
unload  and  string  out  across  the  Jornado,  so 
as  to  cut  Chris  off  from  the  Bar  Cross  round 
up  at  Alaman.  It's  some  of  that  bunch  I  saw 
coming,  I  guess.  And  the  others  were  to  scat 
ter  out  and  come  up  the  middle  of  the  plain. 
They'll  drag  the  Jornado  with  a  fine-toothed 
comb." 

"  How's  he  to  get  away,  then?  " 
"  Cowan  took  Kit's  horse  and  led  his  own, 
which  was  about  give  out.  He  turned  back 
east,  up  a  draw  where  he  won't  be  seen  un 
less  somebody's  right  on  top  of  him.  Eight 
or  ten  miles  out  he'll  turn  Foy's  horse  loose ; 
he'll  carry  the  extra  saddle  on  a  ways  and 


64         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

drop  it  in  a  washout.  They'll  find  Foy's 
horse  and  think  he's  roped  a  fresh  one. 
Then  Cowan  will  start  up  a  fresh  bunch  of 
mares  and  raise  big  dust.  He  will  ride 
straight  to  the  first  posse  he  sees,  claiming 
he's  run  his  horse  down  chasing  the  mares. 
That'll  let  him  out — maybe." 

"And  Foy?" 

"  We  rode  my  horse  double  to  the  edge  of 
the  hills,  to  where  he  could  walk  on  a  ledge 
and  leave  no  tracks,"  said  the  Major. 
1  Then  I  went  on.  I  rounded  up  this  bunch 
of  saddle  horses  and  brought  them  back.  He 
went  up  on  Little  Thumb  Butte.  It's  all 
bluffs  and  bowlders  there.  Up  on  the  highest 
big  cliff,  at  the  very  top,  is  a  deep  crack  that 
winds  up  in  a  cave  like  a  tunnel.  You  know 
the  place,  Stella  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But,  dad,  they'll  hunt  out  the  hills 
the  first  thing." 

"  They  will  not!  "  said  the  Major  trium- 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         65 

phantly.  "  They'll  read  our  sign;  they'll  see 
where  four  shod  horses  came  up  the  road. 
I'll  claim  one  of  them  was  a  horse  I  was  lead 
ing — that'll  be  that  bald-faced  roan  out  in 
the  corral.  We  all  want  to  stick  to  that." 

"  But  he's  bigger  than  any  of  our  horses," 
objected  Pringle.  "  They'll  know  better  by 
the  tracks." 

"Exactly!  So  they'll  find  a  fresh-shod 
track  going  east — a  track  matching  the 
fourth  track  we  left  on  the  road.  They'll 
reason  that  we're  trying  to  keep  them  from 
following  that  track.  So  they'll  follow  it  up; 
they'll  find  Kit's  give-out  horse  and  then 
they'll  know  they're  right." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Pringle  reflectively, 
"  that  friend  Cowan  may  have  an  interesting 
time  if  they  get  him." 

The  Major  permitted  himself  a  grin. 

"  He  yanked  the  shoes  off  his  horse  before 
he  left.  Once  he  mixes  his  tracks  up  with  a 


66         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

bunch  of  wild  mares  he'll  be  all  right.  They 
may  think,  but  they  can't  prove  anything. 
And  Foy'll  be  all  right — if  only  the  posse  fol 
lows  the  plain  trail." 

"  It's  too  much  to  hope,"  said  Stella. 
"  They'll  split  up.  Some  of  them  will  hunt 
out  the  hills  anyway — to-morrow,  if  not  to 
day." 

u  That's  my  idea  of  it,"  said  Pringle. 

"  They  won't  find  the  cave  if  they  do,"  said 
Vorhis  hopefully.  "  If  he  can  get  to  the  Bar 
Cross  they'll  see  him  through,  once  they  hear 
his  story.  Not  telling  about  that  clean-up  you 
and  Kit  made  last  night  is  a  dead  give 
away." 

"  Any  chance  of  Foy  slipping  out  afoot?  " 
'  Too  far.  But  he  could  stand  a  siege  till 
we  could  get  word  to  his  friends  if,  by  any 
chance,  the  posse  should  find  his  cave.  He 
took  my  rifle.  He  can  see  them  coming;  he'll 
have  every  advantage  against  attack;  and 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          67 

there's  another  way  out  of  the  cave,  up  on  top 
of  the  hill.  There's  just  one  thing  against 
him.  There  wasn't  even  a  canteen  here.  He 
took  some  jerky  and  canned  stuff — but  only 
one  measly  beer  bottle  of  water.  When  that's 
used  up  it's  going  to  be  a  dull  time  for  him. 
We  can't  get  water  to  him  very  handy  with 
out  leaving  some  sign.  We  mustn't  get  hos 
tile  with  the  posse.  Take  it  easy — you  espe 
cially,  Pringle.  Stella  and  me,  they  know 
where  we  stand.  But  you're  a  stranger. 
Maybe  they'll  let  you  go  on.  If  you  once  get 
away — bring  the  Bar  Cross  boys  and  they'll 
take  Foy  out  of  here  in  broad  day." 

'  Very  pretty — but  there's  four  men  in  Las 
Uvas  that  know  me — and  three  of  them  are 
police.  Maybe  they'll  stay  in  the  city  though 
— being  police?  " 

"  No,  they  won't,"  said  the  Major  gloom 
ily.  "  They'll  be  along — deputized,  of 
course.  Maybe  they  won't  be  in  the  first 


68         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

batch  though.  Your  part  is  to  be  the  disin 
terested  traveler,  wanting  to  be  on  your 
way." 

"  It  won't  work,  Major.  This  is  a  put-up 
job.  Even  if  Applegate  and  his  strikers 
aren't  along  they've  given  my  description. 
Somebody  will  know  I  was  with  Foy  last 
night,  and  they'll  know  I'm  lying." 

The  Major  sighed.  "That's  so,  too.  I'm 
afraid  you're  in  for  trouble." 

"  I'm  used  to  that,"  said  Pringle  lightly. 
"  Once,  in  Arizona " 

"  Don't  throw  it  up  to  me,  John,"  said  the 
Major  a  trifle  sheepishly.  "  I'll  say  this 
though :  I  wouldn't  ask  for  a  better  man  in  a 
tight  than  you." 

"  Thanks  so  much!"  murmured  Pringle. 
"  And  that  Sir  Hubert  Stanley  thing." 

"  One  more  point,  John:  You  don't  know 
Foy.  I  do.  Foy'll  never  give  up.  He's  des 
perate — and  he's  not  pleased.  There's  no 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          69 

question  of  surrender  and  standing  trial;  un 
derstand  that  He'd  be  lynched,  probably, 
if  they  ever  got  him  in  Las  Uvas.  A  trial, 
even,  would  be  just  lynching  under  another 
name.  They  don't  want  to  capture  him  any 
way — they  want  a  chance  to  kill  him." 

"  I  wouldn't  want  the  job,"  said  Pringle. 

"  Hush !  "  said  Stella.  "  I  hear  them  com 
ing.  Talk  about  something  else — the  war  in 
Europe." 

The  Major  picked  up  a  paper. 

"What  do  you  think  about  the  United 
States  building  a  big  navy,  John?  "  he  asked 
casually. 

Stealthy  footsteps  rustled  without. 

"  Fine  !  "  said  Pringle.  "  I'm  strong  for  it, 
We  want  dreadnoughts,  and  lots  of  'em — 
biggest  we  can  build.  But  that  ain't  all. 
When  we  make  the  navy  appropriations  we 
ought  to  set  by  about  fifty-some-odd  million 
and  build  a  big  multiple-track  railroad,  so  we 


70          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

can  carry  our  navy  inland  in  case  of  war. 
The  ocean  is  no  place  for  a  battleship  these 
days." 

"Stop  your  kidding!" 

"  I'm  not  kidding,"  said  John  Wesley  in 
dignantly.  "  I  never  was  twice  as  serious  in 
my  whole  life.  My  plan  is  sound,  statesman 
like " 

"  Shut  up,  you  idiot!    I  want  to  read." 

"  Oh,  very  well,  then!  I'll  grind  the  cof 
fee." 

Men  crept  close  to  the  open  door  on  each 
side  of  the  kitchen.  Stella  slipped  a  pan  of 
biscuits  in  the  oven ;  she  laid  the  table  briskly, 
with  a  merry  clatter  of  tinware;  her  face  was 
cheerful  and  unclouded.  The  Major  leaned 
back  in  one  chair,  his  feet  on  another;  he 
was  deep  in  the  paper;  he  puffed  his  pipe. 
John  Wesley  Pringle  twirled  the  coffee 
mill  between  his  knees  and  sang  a  merry 
tune: 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          71 

"  There    were    three    little    mice,   playing   in    the 

barn — 

Inky,  dinky,  doodum,  day! 
Though  they   knew  they  were  doing  what  was 

very,  very  wrong — 
Inky,  dinky,  doodum,  day! 
And  the  song  of  the  owls,  it  sounded  so  nice 
That  closer  and  closer  crept  the  three  little  mice. 
And  the  owls  came  and  gobbled  them " 

A  shadow  fell  across  the  floor. 
"  Hands  up !  "  said  the  sheriff  of  Dona, 
Ana.    "  We  want  Chris  Foy !  " 


Chapter  IV 

NAVAJO,  Pima,  and  Hopi  enjoy  seven 
cardinal  points — north,  east,  west, 
south,  up,  down,  and  right  here.  In  these  and 
any  intermediate  directions  from  the  Vorhis 
Ranch  the  diligent  posse  comitatus  made 
swift  and  jealous  search  through  the  slow 
hours  of  afternoon.  It  commandeered  the 
V  H  Saddle  horses  in  the  corral;  it  searched 
for  sign  in  the  soft  earth  of  the  wandering 
draws  between  the  dozen  low  hills  scattered 
round  Big  Thumb  Butte  and  Little  Thumb 
Butte;  it  rode  circles  round  the  ranch;  the 
sign  of  Christopher  Foy's  shod  horse  was 
found  and  followed  hotfoot  by  a  detachment. 
Eight  men  had  arrived  in  the  first  bunch,  with 
the  sheriff;  others  from  every  angle  joined  by 

twos  and  threes  from  hour  to  hour  till  the 
72 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          73 

number  rose  to  above  a  score.  A  hasty  elec 
tion  provided  a  protesting  cook  and  a  horse 
wrangler;  a  V  H  beef  was  slaughtered. 

The  posse  was  rather  equally  divided  be 
tween  two  classes — simpletons  and  fools. 
The  first  unquestionably  believed  Foy  to  be  a 
base  and  cowardly  murderer,  out  of  law, 
whom  it  were  most  righteous  to  harry;  else, 
as  the  storied  juryman  put  it,  "  How  came  he 
there?"  The  other  party  were  of  those 
who  hold  that  evildoing  may  permanently 
prosper  and  endure. 

In  the  big  living  room  of  the  adobe  ranch 
house  much  time  had  been  wasted  in  cross- 
questions  and  foolish  answers.  Stella  Vorhis 
had  been  banished  to  her  own  room  and 
Sheriff  Matt  Lisner  had  privately  told  off  a 
man  to  make  sure  she  did  not  escape. 

Lisner  and  Ben  Creagan,  Grossest  of  the 
four  examiners,  had  been  prepared  to  meet 
by  crushing  denial  an  eager  and  indignant 


74         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

statement  from  Pringle,  adducing  the  Gads- 
den  House  affair  and  his  subsequent  com- 
panying  with  Foy  as  proof  positive  of  Foy's 
innocence.  That  no  such  accusation  came 
from  Pringle  set  these  able  but  mystified  de- 
niers  entirely  at  a  loss,  left  the  denial  high 
and  dry.  Creagan  mopped  his  brow  fur 
tively. 

"Vorhis,"  said  Sheriff  Matt,  red  and 
angry  from  an  hour's  endeavor,  "  I  think 
you're  telling  a  pack  of  lies — every  word  of 
it.  You  know  mighty  well  where  Foy  is." 

The  Major's  gray  goatee  quivered. 

"  Guess  I'll  tell  you  lies  if  I  want  to,"  he 
retorted  defiantly. 

"  But,  Sheriff,  he  may  be  telling  us  the 
truth,"  urged  Paul  Breslin.  "  Foy  may  very 
well  have  ridden  here  alone  before  Vorhis 
got  here.  I've  known  the  Major  a  long  time. 
He  isn't  the  man  to  protect  a  red-handed 
murderer.'* 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          75 

"  Aw,  bah!  How  do  you  know  I  won't? 
How  do  you  know  he's  a  murderer?  You 
make  me  sick!"  declared  the  Major  hotly. 
Breslin  was  an  honest,  well-meaning  farmer; 
the  Major  was  furious  to  find  such  a  man 
allied  with  Foy's  foes — certain  sign  that 
other  decent  blockheads  would  do  likewise. 
"  Matt  Lisner  tells  you  Kit  Foy  is  a  murderer 
and  you  believe  him  implicitly:  Matt  Lisner 
tells  you  I'm  a  liar — but  you  stumble  at  that. 
Why?  Because  you  think  about  me — that's 
why !  Why  don't  you  try  that  plan  about  Foy 
— thinking?" 

"  But  Foy's  run  away,"  stammered  Breslin, 
disconcerted. 

"Run  away,  hell!  He's  not  here,  you 
mean.  According  to  your  precious  story,  Foy 
was  leaving  before  Marr  was  killed — or  be 
fore  you  say  Marr  was  killed.  Why  don't 
you  look  for  him  with  the  Bar  Cross  round 
up  ?  There's  where  he  started  for,  you  say  ?  " 


76         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  I  wired  up  and  had  a  trusty  man  go  out 
there  quietly  at  once.  He's  staying  there  still 
— quietly,"  said  the  sheriff.  u  Foy  isn't  there 
— and  the  Bar  Cross  hasn't  heard  of  the  kill 
ing  yet.  It  won't  do,  Major.  Foy's  run 
away." 

John  Wesley  Pringle,  limp,  slack,  and  rum 
pled  in  his  chair,  yawned,  stretching  his  arms 
wide. 

'  This  man  Foy,"  he  ventured  amiably, 
"  if  he  really  run  away,  he  done  a  wise  little 
stunt  for  himself,  I  think.  Because  every 
little  ever  and  anon,  thin  scraps  of  talk  float 
in  from  your  cookfire  in  the  yard — and  there's 
a  heap  of  it  about  ropes  and  lynching,  for  in 
stance.  If  he  hasn't  run  away  yet,  he'd  bet 
ter — and  I'll  tell  him  so  if  I  sec  him.  Stubby, 
red-faced,  spindlin',  thickset,  jolly  little  man, 
ain't  he?  Heavy-complected,  broad-shoul 
dered,  dark  blond,  very  tall  and  slender, 
weighs  about  a  hundred  and  ninety,  with  a 


The  Desire-  of  the  Moth         77 

pale  skin  and  a  hollow-cheeked,  plump,  seri 
ous  face?  " 

At  this  ill-timed  and  unthinkable  levity 
Breslin  stared  in  bewilderment;  Lisner 
glared,  gripping  his  fist  convulsively;  and 
Mr.  Ben  Creagan,  an  uneasy  third  inquisitor, 
breathed  hard  through  his  nose.  Anastacio 
Barela,  the  fourth  and  last  inquisitor,  main 
tained  unmoved  the  disinterested  attitude  he 
had  held  since  the  interrogation  began.  Feet 
crossed,  he  lounged  in  his  chair,  graceful, 
silent,  smoking,  listening,  idly  observant  of 
wall  and  ceiling. 

No  answer  being  forthcoming  to  his  query 
Pringle  launched  another: 

"  Speaking  of  faces,  Creagan,  old  sport, 
what's  happened  to  you  and  your  nose  ?  You 
look  like  someone  had  spread  you  on  the 
minutes."  He  eyed  Creagan  with  solicitous 
interest. 

Mr.  Creagan's  battered  face  betrayed  emo- 


78         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

tion.  Pringle's  shameless  mendacity  shocked 
him.  But  it  was  Creagan's  sorry  plight  that 
he  must  affect  never  to  have  seen  this  insolent 
Pringle  before.  The  sheriff's  face  mottled 
with  wrath.  Pringle  reflected  swiftly:  The 
sheriff's  rage  hinted  strongly  that  he  was  in 
Creagan's  confidence  and  hence  was  no  strarx- 
ger  to  last  night's  mishap  at  the  hotel;  their1 
silence  proclaimed  their  treacherous  intent. 

On  the  other  hand,  these  two,  if  not  the, 
others,  knew  very  well  that  Pringle  had  left 
town  with  Foy  and  had  probably  stayed  with 
him;  that  the  Major  must  know  all  that  Foy 
and  Pringle  knew.  Evidently,  Pringle  de 
cided,  these  two,  at  least,  could  expect  no 
direct  information  from  their  persistent  ques 
tionings;  what  they  hoped  for  was  uncon 
scious  betrayal  by  some  slip  of  the  tongue. 
As  for  young  Breslin,  Pringle  had  long  since 
sized  him  up  for  what  the  Major  knew  him 
to  be — a  good-hearted,  right-meaning  simple- 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          79 

ton.  In  the  indifferent-seeming  Anastacio, 
Pringle  recognized  an  unknown  quantity. 

That,  for  a  certainty,  Christopher  Foy  had 
not  killed  Marr,  was  a  positive  bit  of  knowl 
edge  which  Pringle  shared  only  with  the  mur 
derer  himself  and  with  that  murderer's  ac 
complices,  if  any.  So  much  was  plain,  and 
Pringle  felt  a  curiosity,  perhaps  pardonable, 
as  to  who  the  murderer  really  was. 

Duty  and  inclination  thus  happily  wedded, 
Pringle  set  himself  to  goad  ferret-eyed  Crea- 
gan  and  the  heavy-jawed  sheriff  into  unwise 
speech.  And  inattentive  Anastacio  had  a 
shrewd  surmise  at  Pringle's  design.  He  knew 
nothing  of  the  fight  at  the  Gadsden  House, 
but  he  sensed  an  unexplained  tension — and  he 
knew  his  chief. 

"  And  this  man,  too — what  about  him?" 
said  Breslin,  regarding  Pringle  with  a  puz 
zled  face.  "  Granted  that  the  Major  might 
have  a  motive  for  shielding  Foy — he  may 


8o         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

even  believe  Foy  to  be  innocent — why  should 
this  stranger  put  himself  in  danger  for  Foy?  " 

"  Here,  now — none  of  that!  "  said  Pringle 
with  some  asperity.  "  I  may  be  a  stranger  to 
you,  but  I'm  an  old  friend  of  the  Major's. 
I'm  his  guest,  eating  his  grub  and  drinking 
his  baccy;  if  he  sees  fit  to  tell  any  lies  I  back 
him  up,  of  course.  Haven't  you  got  any 
principle  at  all?  What  do  you  think  I  am?  " 

"  I  know  what  you  are,"  said  the  sheriff. 
"You're  a  damned  liar!  " 

"  An  amateur  only,"  said  Pringle  modestly. 
"  I  never  take  money  for  it."  He  put  by  a 
wisp  of  his  frosted  hair,  the  better  to  scruti 
nize,  with  insulting  slowness,  the  sheriff's  sav 
age  face.  *  Your  ears  are  very  large !  "  he 
murmured  at  last.  "  And  red !  " 

The  sheriff  leaped  up. 

"  You  insolent  cur-dog!  "  he  roared. 

"  LTo  stand  and  be  still  to  the  Birken'ead 
drill  is  a  dam'  tough  bullet  to  chew,'  "  quoted 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          81 

Pringle  evenly.  "  But  he  done  it — old  Prin- 
gle — John  Wesley  Pringle — liar  and  cur-dog 
too  !  We'll  discuss  the  cur-dog  later.  Now, 
about  the  liar.  You're  mighty  certain,  seems 
tome.  Why?  How  do  you  know  I'm  lying? 
For  I  am  lying — I'll  not  deceive  you.  I'm 
lying;  you  know  I'm  lying;  I  know  that  you 
know  I'm  lying:  and  you  apprehend  clearly 
that  I  am  aware  that  you  are  cognizant  of 
the  fact  that  I  am  fully  assured  that  you 
know  I  am  lying.  Just  like  that!  What  a 
very  peculiar  set  of  happenstances !  I  am  a 
nervous  woman  and  this  makes  my  head  go 
round!" 

"  The  worst  day's  work  you  ever  did  for 
yourself,"  said  the  angry  sheriff,  "  was  when 
you  butted  into  this  business." 

"  Yes,  yes;  go  on.  Was  this  to-day  or  yes 
terday — at  the  hotel?" 

"Liar!"  roared  Lisner.  "You  never 
were  at  the  Gadsden  House." 


82          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  Who  said  I  was?" 

The  words  cracked  like  a  whiplash.  Sim 
ultaneously  Pringle's  tilted  chair  came  down 
to  its  four  legs  and  Pringle  sat  poised,  his 
weight  on  the  balls  of  his  feet,  ready  for  a 
spring.  The  sheriff  paused  midway  of  a  step ; 
his  mottled  face  grew  ashen.  A  gurgle  very 
like  a  smothered  chuckle  came  from  Ana- 
stacio.  Creagan  flung  himself  into  the 
breach. 

uAw,  Matt,  let's  have  the  girl  in  here. 
We  can't  get  nothing  from  these  stiff-necked 
idiots." 

"  Might  as  well,"  agreed  Lisner  in  a  tone 
that  tried  to  be  contemptuous  but  trembled. 
"  We're  wasting  time  here." 

"  Lisner,"  said  the  Major  in  his  gentlest 
tone,  "  be  well  advised  and  leave  my  daugh 
ter  be." 

"And  if  I  don't?"  sneered  Lisner.  He 
had  no  real  desire  to  question  Stella,  but  wel- 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          83 

corned  the  change  of  venue  as  a  diversion 
from  his  late  indiscretion.  u  If,  in  the  per 
formance  of  my  duty,  I  put  a  few  civil  ques 
tions  to  Miss  Vorhis — in  the  presence  of  her 
father,  mind  you — then  what?  " 

"  But  you  won't!  "  said  the  Major  softly. 

"  Do  you  know,  Sheriff,  I  think  the  Major 
has  the  right  idea?"  said  Pringle.  "  We 
won't  bother  the  young  lady." 

u  Who's  going  to  stop  me?  " 

Anastacio,  in  his  turn,  brought  his  chair  to 
the  floor,  at  the  same  time  unclasping  his 
hands  from  behind  his  head. 

"  I'll  do  that  little  thing,  Sheriff,"  he  an 
nounced  mildly.  "  Miss  Vorhis  has  already 
told  us  that  she  has  not  seen  Foy  since  yester 
day  noon.  That  is  quite  sufficient." 

Silence. 

"  This  makes  me  fidgety.  Somebody  say 
something,  quick — anything!"  begged  Prin 
gle.  "  All  right,  then;  I  will.  Let's  go  back 


84         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

— we've  dropped  a  stitch.  That  goes  about 
me  being  a  liar  and  a  damned  one,  Sheriff; 
but  I'm  hurt  to  have  you  think  I'm  a  cur-dog. 
You're  the  sheriff,  doin'  your  duty,  as  you  so 
aptly  observed.  And  you've  done  took  my 
gun  away.  But  if  bein'  a  cur-dog  should  hap 
pen  to  vex  me — honest,  Sheriff,  I'm  that  sen 
sitive  that  I'll  tell  you  now — not  hissing  or 
gritting  or  gnashing  my  teeth — just  telling 
you — the  first  time  I  meet  you  in  a  strictly 
private  and  unofficial  way  I'm  goin'  to  remold 
you  closer  to  my  heart's  desire !  " 

"You  brazen  hussy!  You  know  you 
lied!" 

"You're  still  harpin'  on  that,  Sheriff? 
That  doesn't  make  it  any  easier  to  be  a  cur- 
dog.  How  did  you  know  I  lied?  You  say 
so,  mighty  positive — but  what  are  your  rea 
sons?  Why  don't  you  tell  your  associates? 
There  is  an  honest  man  in  this  room.  I  am 
not  sure  there  are  not  two — - — " 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          85 

Anastacio's  eyes  again  removed  themselves 
from  the  ceiling. 

u  If  you  mean  me — and  somehow  I  am 
quite  clear  as  to  that — — " 

"  I  mean  Mr.  Breslin." 

"  Oh,  him — of  course !  "  said  Anastacio  in 
a  shocked  voice.  "  Breslin,  by  all  means,  for 
the  one  you  were  sure  of.  But  the  second 
man,  the  one  you  had  hopes  of — who  should 
that  be  but  me  ?  I  thank  you.  I  am  touched. 
I  am  myself  indifferent  honest,  as  Shake- 
spere  puts  it." 

The  sheriff  licked  his  dry  lips. 

"  If  you  think  I  am  going  to  stay  here  to 
be  insulted — — M 

"  You  are !  "  taunted  John  Wesley  Pringle. 
"  You'll  stay  right  here.  What?  Leave  me 
here  to  tell  what  I  have  to  say  to  an  honest 
man  and  a  half?  Impossible  !  You'll  not  let 
me  out  of  your  sight." 

"  My  amateur  Ananias,"  interrupted  Ana- 


86          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

stacio  dispassionately,  "  you  are,  unintention 
ally,  perhaps,  doing  me  half  of  a  grave  injus 
tice.  In  this  particular  instance — for  this  day 
and  date  only — I  am  as  pure  as  a  new-mown 
hay.  To  prevent  all  misapprehension  let  me 
say  now  that  I  never  thought  Foy  killed  Dick 
Marr." 

"In  heaven's  name,  why?"  demanded 
Breslin. 

"  My  honest  but  thick-skulled  friend,  let 
me  put  in  my  oar,"  implored  the  Major. 
"  Let  me  show  you  that  Matt  Lisner  never 
thought  Foy  was  guilty.  Foy  said  last  night, 
before  the  killing,  that  he  was  coming  up 
here,  didn't  he?" 

"  Hey,  Major — hold  up !  "  cried  Pringle. 
But  Vorhis  was  not  to  be  stopped. 

"  Don't  you  see,  you  doddering  imbecile? 
If  Foy  had  really  killed  Dick  Marr  he  might 
have  gone  to  any  other  place  in  the  world — 
but  he  wouldn't  have  come  here." 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          87 

uAha!  So  Foy  did  come  here,  hey?" 
croaked  the  sheriff,  triumphant  in  his  turn. 
"Thanks,  Major,  for  the  information, 
though  I  was  sure  before,  humanly  speaking, 
that  he  came  this  way." 

"  Which  is  another  way  of  saying  that  you 
don't  think  Foy  did  the  killing — that  you 
don't  even  suspect  him  of  it,"  said  Anastacio. 
as  the  Major  subsided,  crestfallen.  "  Matt 
Lisner,  I  know  that  you  hate  Foy.  I  know 
that  you  welcome  this  chance  to  get  rid  of 
him.  Make  no  mistake,  Breslin.  I  was  not 
wanted  here.  I  wasn't  asked  and  none  of 
my  people  were  brought  along.  I  tagged 
along,  though — to  wait.  It's  one  of  the  best 
little  things  I  do — waiting.  And  I  came  to 
protect  Foy,  not  to  capture  him.  I  came  to 
keep  right  at  his  side,  in  case  he  surrendered 
without  a  fight — for  fear  he  might  be  killed 
.  .  .  escaping  ...  on  the  way  back.  It's 
a  way  that  we  have  in  Las  Uvas !  " 


88          The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

Lisner  threw  a  look  of  hate  at  his  deputy. 

'  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  there's  any 
danger  of  anything  like  that?"  said  Breslin, 
staggered  and  aghast. 

"  Every  danger.  That's  an  old  gag — the 
ley  fuga" 

"  You  lie !  "  bawled  Creagan.  His  six- 
shooter  covered  Anastacio. 

"  That'll  keep.  Put  up  your  gun,  Bennie," 
said  Anastacio  with  great  composure.  "  Sup 
per's  most  ready.  Besides,  the  Barelas 
won't  like  it  if  you  shoot  me  this  way. 
There's  a  lot  of  the  Barelas,  Ben.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do,  though — I'll  slip  the  idea  to 
my  crowd,  and  any  time  you  want  to  kill  me 
on  an  even  break,  no  Barela  or  Ascarate  will 
take  it  up.  Put  it  right  in  your  little  holster 
— put  it  up,  I  say!  That's  right.  You  see, 
Breslin?  Don't  let  Foy  out  of  your  sight  if 
he  should  be  taken." 

"  But   he'll   never   let   himself   be    taken 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          89 

alive,"  said  Vorhis.  "  Even  if  anyone  wants 
to  take  him — alive.  Pass  the  word  to  your 
friends,  Breslin,  unless  you  want  them  to  take 
part  in  a  deliberate,  foreplanned  murder." 

"  Damn  you,  what  do  you  mean?  "  shouted 
the  sheriff. 

"  By  God,  sir,  I  mean  just  what  I  say!  " 

"  Why,  girls  I  "  said  Pringle.  "  You  shock 
me !  This  is  most  unladylike.  This  is  scan 
dalous  talk.  Be  nice!  Please — pretty 
please !  See,  here  comes  some  more  pussy 
foot  posse — three,  six,  eleven  hungry  men. 
Have  they  got  Foy?  No;  they  have  not  got 
Foy.  Is  he  up?  He  is  up.  Look  who's  here 
too!  Good  old  Applegate  and  Brother  Es- 
palin.  I  wonder  now  if  they're  goin'  to  give 
me  the  cut  direct,  like  Creagan  did?  You 
notice,  Mr.  Breslin." 

The  horsemen  rode  into  the  corral. 

"No;  don't  go,  Sheriff,"  said  Anastacio. 
"  I'm  anxious  to  see  if  those  two  will  recog- 


9O         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

nize  Ananias  the  Amateur.  They'll  be  here 
directly.  You,  either,  Creagan.  Else  I'll 
shoot  you  both  in  the  back,  accidentally,  clean 
ing  my  gun." 

From  without  was  the  sound  of  spurred 
feet  in  haste ;  three  men  appeared  at  the  open 
door. 

"Why,  if  it  ain't  George!  Good  old 
George !  "  cried  Pringle,  rising  with  out 
stretched  arms.  "  And  my  dear  friend  Es- 
palin !  What  a  charming  reunion !  " 

Applegate's  eyes  threw  a  startled  question 
at  his  chief  and  at  Creagan;  Espalin  slipped 
swiftly  back  through  the  door. 

"  I  don't  know  you,  sir,"  said  Applegate. 

"  George  !  You're  never  going  to  disown 
me !  Joe's  gone,  too.  Nobody  loves  me !  " 

The  third  man,  a  grizzled  and  bristly  old 
warrior  with  a  limp,  broke  in  with  a  roar. 

"What  in  hell's  going  on  here?"  he 
stormed. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         91 

"  You  are,  for  one  thing,  if  you  don't  mod 
erate  your  voice,"  said  Anastacio.  "  Nueces, 
you  bellow  like  the  bulls  of  Bashan.  Mr.  Ap- 
plegate,  meet  Mr.  Pringle." 

"  What  does  he  mean,  then,  by  such 
monkeyshines  ?  "  demanded  the  other — old 
Nueces  River,  chief  of  police,  ex-ranger,  and, 
for  this  occasion,  deputy  sheriff.  "  I  got  no 
time  for  foolishness.  And  you  can't  run  no 
whizzer  on  me,  Barela.  Don't  you  try  it!  " 

"  Oh,  they're  just  joking,  Nueces,"  said  the 
Major.  "  Tell  us  how  about  it.  Here,  I'll 
light  the  lamp;  it's  getting  dark.  Find  any 
sign  of  Foy?  " 

Nueces  leveled  a  belligerent  finger  at  the 
Major. 

"  You've  been  joking,  too !  I've  heard 
about  you.  Lisner,  I'm  ashamed  of  you ! 
Let  Vorhis  pull  the  wool  over  your  eyes, 
while  you  sit  here  and  jaw  all  afternoon,  do 
ing  nothing !  " 


92         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"Why,  what  did  you  find  out?" 
u  A-plenty.    Them  stiffs  you  sent  out  found 
Foy's  horse,  to  begin  with." 

"  Sure  it  was  Foy's  horse  ?  "  queried  Lisner 
eagerly. 

"  Sure  I    I  know  the  horse — that  big  calico 
horse  of  his." 

"  Why  didn't  you  follow  him  up?  " 
"  Follow  hell !  Oh,  some  of  the  silly  fools 
are  milling  round  out  there — going  over  to 
the  San  Andres  to-night  to  take  a  big  hunt 
manana.  Not  me.  That  horse  was  a  blind. 
They  pottered  round  tryin'  to  find  some  trace 
of  Foy — blind  fools ! — till  I  met  up  with  'em. 
I'd  done  gathered  in  that  mizzable  red 
headed  Joe  Cowan  on  a  give-out  horse,  claim- 
in'  he'd  been  chousin'  after  broom-tails. 
He'd  planted  Foy's  horse,  I  reckon. 
But  it  can't  be  proved,  so  I  let  him  go. 
He'll  have  to  walk  in;  that's  one  good 
thing." 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          93 

"  But  Foy — where  do  you  figure  Foy's 
gone?" 

"  Maybe  he  simply  was  not,"  suggested 
Pringle,  "  like  Enoch  when  he  was  translated 
into  all  European  languages,  including  the 
Scandinavian." 

"  Pringle,  if  you  say  another  word  I'll  have 
you  gagged !  "  said  the  exasperated  sheriff. 
"  Don't  you  reckon,  Nueces,  that  Cowan 
brought  Foy  a  barefooted  horse?  He  can't 
have  gone  on  afoot  or  you'd  have  seen  his 
tracks." 

"  Sheriff,  you  certainly  are  an  easy  mark!  " 
returned  Nueces,  in  great  disgust.  "  Foy 
didn't  go  on  afoot  or  horseback,  because  he 
was  never  there.  I've  told  you  twice :  Cowan 
left  that  calico  horse  on  purpose  for  us  to 
find.  Vorhis  is  Foy's  friend.  Can't  you  see, 
if  Foy  had  tried  to  get  away  by  hard  riding 
he  would  have  had  a  fresh  horse,  not  the  one 
he  rode  from  Las  Uvas,  and  you  wouldn't 


94         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

have  found  a  penful  of  fresh  horses  to  chase 
him  with?  Not  in  a  thousand  years!  That 
was  to  make  it  nice  and  easy  for  you  to  ride 
on — a  six-year-old  kid  could  see  through  it! 
It's  a  wonder  you  didn't  all  fall  for  it  and 
chase  away.  No,  sir!  Foy  either  stopped 
down  on  the  river  and  sent  his  horse  on  to 
fool  us — or,  more  likely,  he's  up  in  the  Buttes. 
Did  you  look  there?  " 

"  I  sent  the  boys  round  to  out  sign.  I  did 
n't  feel  justified  in  hunting  out  the  rough 
places  till  we  had  more  men.  Too  much 
cover  for  him." 

"And  none  for  you,  I  s'pose?  Mamma! 
but  you're  a  fine  sheriff!  Look  now:  After 
we  started  back  here  we  sighted  a  dust  comin' 
'way  up  north.  We  went  over,  and  'twas 
Hargis,  the  Major's  buckaroo,  throwin'  in  a 
bunch  from  the  round-up.  He  didn't  know 
nothin'  and  was  not  right  sure  of  that — till  I 
mentioned  your  reward.  Soon  as  ever  I  men- 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         95 

tioned  twenty-five  hundred,  he  loosened  up 
right  smart." 

"  Well?    Did  he  know  where  Foy  was?  " 

"No;  but  he  knew  of  the  place  where  I 
judge  Foy  is,  this  very  yet.  Gosh !  "  said 
Nueces  River  in  deep  disgust,  "  it  beats  hell 
what  men  will  do  for  a  little  dirty  money! 
Seems  there's  a  cave  near  the  top  of  the  least 
of  them  two  buttes — the  roughest  one — a  cave 
with  two  mouths,  one  right  on  the  big  top. 
Nobody  much  knows  where  it  is,  only  the  V 
H  outfit." 

Pringle  had  edged  across  the  room.  He 
now  plucked  at  Bell  Applegate's  sleeve. 

"  Say,  is  that  right  about  that  reward — > 
twenty-five  hundred?"  he  whispered.  His 
eyes  glistened. 

"  Forty-five,"  said  Bell  behind  his  hand. 
"  The  Masons,  they  put  up  a  thousand,  and 
Dick's  old  uncle — that  would  have  let  Dick 
starve  or  work — he  tacked  on  a  thousand 


96         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

more.  Dead  or  alive !  "  He  looked  down  at 
Pringle's  face,  at  Pringle's  working  fingers, 
opening  and  shutting  avariciously;  he  sneered. 
"  Don't  you  wish  you  may  get  it?  S-sh! 
Hear  what  the  old  man's  saying." 

During  the  whispered  colloquy  the  old 
ranger  had  kept  on : 

"  There's  where  he  is,  a  twenty-to-one 
shot!  He'll  lay  quiet,  likely,  thinkin'  we'll 
miss  him.  Brush  growin'  over  both  the  cave 
mouths,  Hargis  says,  so  you  might  pass  right 
by  if  you  didn't  know  where  to  look.  These 
short  nights  he  couldn't  never  get  clear  on 
foot.  Thirty  mile  to  the  next  water — we'd 
find  his  tracks  and  catch  him.  But  he  might 
make  a  break  to  get  away,  at  that.  Never 
can  tell  about  a  he-man  like  that.  We  can't 
take  no  chances.  We'll  pick  a  bite  of  supper 
and  then  we  surround  that  hill,  quiet  as  mice, 
and  close  up  on  him.  He  can't  see  us  to  shoot 
if  we're  fool  enough  to  make  any  noise. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth          97 

Come  daylight,  we'll  have  him  cornered, 
every  man  behind  a  bowlder.  If  he  shows 
up  he's  our  meat;  if  he  don't  we'll  starve 
him  out." 

"  And  suppose  he  isn't  there?"  said 
Creagan.  "  What  would  we  look  like, 
watching  an  empty  cave  two  or  three 
days?" 

'  What  do  we  look  like  now?  Give  you 
three  guesses,"  retorted  Nueces.  "  And 
how'd  we  look  rushin'  that  empty  cave  if  it 
didn't  happen  to  be  empty?  Excuse  me !  I'd 
druther  get  three  grand  heehaws  and  a  tiger 
for  bein'  ridiculous  than  to  have  folks  tiptoe 
by  a-whisperin' :  '  How  natural  he  looks ! ' 
I  been  a  pretty  tough  old  bird  in  my  day — but 
goin'  up  a  tunnel  after  Kitty  Foy  ain't  my 
idea  of  foresight." 

"  Some  man — some  good  man,  too — will 
have  to  stay  here  and  stand  guard  on  the 
Major  and  this  fresh  guy,  Pringle,"  said  the 


98         The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

sheriff  thoughtfully.  "  He'll  get  his  slice  of 
the  money,  of  course." 

"  You'll  find  a  many  glad  to  take  that  end 
of  the  job;  for,"  said  Nueces  River,  "  it  is  in 
my  wise  old  noddle  some  of  us  are  going  to  be 
festerin'  in  Abraham's  bosom  before  we  earn 
that  reward  money.  Leave  Applegate — he's 
in  bad  shape  for  climbing  anyway;  bruise  on 
his  belly  big  as  a  washpan." 

"  Bronc'  bucked  me  over  on  the  saddle 
horn,"  explained  Applegate.  "  Sure,  I'll  stay. 
And  the  Pringle  person  will  be  right  here 
when  you  get  back,  too." 

"  Let  the  Major  take  some  supper  in  to 
Miss  Vorhis,"  suggested  Breslin.  "  I'll  keep 
an  eye  on  him.  He  can  eat  with  her  and  cheer 
her  up  a  little.  This  is  hard  lines  for  a  girl." 

Lisner  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"We  have  to  keep  her  here  till  Foy's 
caught.  She  might  bring  a  sight  of  trouble 
down  on  us." 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth         99 

"  Say,  what's  the  matter  with  me  going  out 
and  eating  a  few?  "  asked  Pringle. 

"  You  stay  here !  You  talk  too  much  with 
your  mouth,"  replied  the  sheriff.  "  I'll  send 
in  a  snack  for  you  and  Bell.  Come  on,  boys." 

They  filed  out  to  the  cook's  fire  in  the 
walled  courtyard. 

"  George,  dear,"  said  Pringle  when  the 
two  were  left  alone,  "  is  that  right  about 
the  reward?  'Cause  I  sure  want  to  get  in 


on  it." 


"  Damn  likely.  You  knew  where  Foy  was. 
You  know  where  he  is  now.  Why  didn't  you 
tell  us,  if  you  wanted  in  on  the  reward?  " 

"  Why,  George,  I  didn't  know  there  was 
any  reward.  Besides,  him  and  me  split  up 
as  soon  as  we  got  clear  of  town." 

"You're  a  damn  liar!" 

"  That's  what  the  sheriff  said.  Somebody 
must  'a'  give  me  away,"  complained  John 
Wesley.  He  rolled  a  cigarette  and  walked  to 


ioo       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

the  table.  "  All  the  same,  you're  making  a 
mistake.  You  hadn't  ought  to  roil  me.  Just 
for  that,  soon  as  they're  all  off  on  their  man 
hunt,  I'm  goin'  to  study  up  some  scheme  to 
get  away." 

"  I  got  a  picture  of  you  gettin'  away!  " 
"  George,"  said  John  Wesley,  "  you  see 
that  front  door  ?  Well,  that's  what  we  call  in 
theatrical  circles  a  practical  door.  Along 
toward  morning  I'm  going  out  through  that 
practical  door.  You'll  see !  " 

He  raised  the  lamp,  held  the  cigarette  over 
the  chimney  top  and  puffed  till  he  got  a  light; 
so  doing  he  smoked  the  chimney.  To  inspect 
the  damage  he  raised  the  lamp  higher. 
Swifter  than  thought  he  hurled  it  at  his  ward 
er's  head.  The  blazing  lamp  struck  Apple- 
gate  between  the  eyes.  Pringle's  fist  flashed 
up  and  smote  him  grievously  under  the  jaw; 
he  fell  crashing;  the  half-drawn  gun  clattered 
from  his  slackened  fingers.  Pringle  caught  it 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth       101 

up  and  plunged  into  the  dark  through  the 
practical  door. 

He  ran  down  the  adobe  wall  of  the  water 
pen;  a  bullet  whizzed  by;  he  turned  the  cor 
ner;  he  whisked  over  the  wall,  back  into  the 
water  pen.  Shouts,  curses,  the  sound  of  rush 
ing  feet  without  the  wall.  Pringle  crouched 
in  the  deep  shadow  of  the  wall,  groped  his 
way  to  the  long  row  of  watering  troughs,  and 
wormed  himself  under  the  upper  trough, 
where  the  creaking  windmill  and  the  splash 
ing  of  water  from  the  supply  pipe  would 
drown  out  the  sound  of  his  labored  breath. 

Horsemen  boiled  from  the  yard  gate  with 
uproar  and  hullabaloo;  Pringle  heard  their 
shouts;  he  saw  the  glare  of  soap  weeds,  fired 
to  help  their  search. 

The  lights  died  away;  the  shouts  grew 
fainter:  they  swelled  again  as  the  searchers 
straggled  back,  vociferous.  Pringle  caught 
scraps  of  talk  as  they  watered  their  horses. 


IO2        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  Clean  getaway!  " 

"  One  bad  actor,  that  hombre!  " 

"Regular  Go-Getter!" 

"  Batting  average  about  thirteen  hundred, 
I  should  figger." 

"Life-size  he-man!  Where  do  you  sup 
pose " 

"  Saw  a  lad  make  just  such  another  break 
once  in  Van  Zandt  County " 

"Say!     Who're  you  crowdin'?" 

"  Hi,  fellers !  Bill's  giving  some  more  his 
tory  of  the  state  of  Van  Zandt!  " 

"  Applegate's  pretty  bad  hurt." 

" in  a  gopher  hole  and  near  broke  my 

fool  neck." 

'  Where'd  this  old  geezer  come  from,  any 
way?  Never  heard  of  him  before  !  " 

"  'Tain't  fair,  just  when  we  was  all 
crowdin'  up  for  supper!  He  might  have 
waited." 

"  This  will  be  merry  hell  and  repeat  if  he 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        103 

hooks  up  with  Foy,"  said  Creagan's  voice, 
adding  a  vivid  description  of  Pringle. 

Old  Nueces  answered,  raising  his  voice : 

"  He's  afoot.  We  got  to  beat  him  to  it. 
Let's  ride !  " 

"That's  right,"  said  the  sheriff.  "But 
we'll  grab  something  to  eat  first.  Saddle  up, 
Hargis,  and  lead  us  to  your  little  old  cave. 
Robbins,  while  we  snatch  a  bite  you  bunch 
what  canteens  we've  got  and  fill  'em  up. 
Then  you  watch  the  old  man  and  that  girl, 
and  let  Breslin  come  with  us.  You  can  eat 
after  we've  gone." 

"  Don't  let  the  girl  heave  a  pillow  at  you, 
Robbins !  "  warned  a  voice. 

"  Better  not  stop  to  eat,"  urged  Nueces. 

"  We  can  lope  up  and  get  to  the  foot  of 
Thumb  Butte  before  Pringle  gets  halfway — 
if  he's  going  there  at  all.  Most  likely  he's 
had  a  hand  in  the  Marr  killing  and  is  just 
running  away  to  save  his  own  precious 


IO4        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

neck,"  said  the  sheriff.  "  We'll  scatter  out 
around  the  hill  when  we  get  to  the  roughs, 
and  go  up  afoot  till  every  man  can  see  or 
hear  his  neighbor,  so  Pringle  can't  get 
through.  Then  we'll  wait  till  daylight." 

"  That  may  suit  you,"  retorted  Nueces. 
u  Me,  I  don't  intend  for  any  man  that  will 
buck  a  gun  with  a  lamp  to  throw  in  with  Kit 
Foy  while  I  stuff  my  paunch.  That  sort  is 
just  the  build  to  do  a  mile  in  nothing  flat — 
and  it's  only  three  miles  to  the  hill.  I'm  goin' 
now,  and  I'm  goin'  hellity-larrup  !  Come  on, 
anybody  with  more  brains  than  belly — I'm  off 
to  light  a  line  of  soap  weeds  on  that  hill  so 
this  Mr.  Pringle-With-the-Punch  don't  walk 
himself  by.  If  he  wants  up  he'll  have  to  hoof 
it  around  the  other  side  of  the  hill.  We  won't 
make  any  light  on  the  north  side.  That  Bar 
Cross  outfit  is  too  damn  inquisitive.  The 
night  herders  would  see  it;  they'd  smell  trou 
ble;  and  like  as  not  the  whole  bilin'  of  'em 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        105 

would  come  pryin'  down  here  by  daylight. 
Guess  they  haven't  heard  about  Foy  or  they'd 
be  here  now.  They're  strong  for  Foy.  Come 
on,  you  waddies !  " 

Mr.  Pringle-With-the-Punch,  squeezed, 
cramped,  and  muddy  under  the  trough,  heard 
this  supperless  plan  with  displeasure ;  his  hope 
had  been  otherwise.  He  heard  the  sound  of 
hurried  mounting;  from  the  thunder  of  gal 
loping  hoofs  it  would  seem  that  a  goodly 
number  of  the  posse  had  come  up  to  the  speci 
fications  laid  down  by  the  old  ranger. 

The  others  clanked  away,  leaving  their 
horses  standing.  The  man  Robbins  grum 
bled  from  saddle  to  saddle  and  gathered  can 
teens.  As  he  filled  them  from  the  supply  pipe 
directly  above  Mr.  Pringle's  head,  he  set 
them  on  the  ground  within  easy  reach  of  Mr. 
Pringle's  hand.  Acting  on  this  hint  Mr.  Prin 
gle's  hand  withdrew  a  canteen,  quite  unos 
tentatiously.  An  unnecessary  precaution,  as 


io6       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

it  turned  out;  Mr.  Robbins,  having  filled  that 
batch,  went  to  the  horses  farther  down  the 
troughs  to  look  for  more  canteens.  So  Prin- 
gle  wriggled  out  with  his  canteen,  selected 
a  horse,  and  rode  quietly  through  the  open 
gate. 

"Going  already?"  called  Robbins  as  he 
passed. 

Secure  under  cover  of  darkness,  Pringle 
answered  in  the  voice  of  one  who,  riding, 
eats: 

"Yes,  indeedy;  I  ain't  no  hawg.  Wasn't 
much  hungry  nohow !  " 


Chapter  V 

AT  the   foot  of  Little  Thumb   Butte   a 
lengthening    semicircle    of    fire    flared 
through   the   night.      John   Wesley    Pringle 
swung    far    out    on    the    plain    to    circle 
round  it. 

"  This  takes  time,"  he  muttered  to  him 
self,  "  but  at  least  I  know  where  not  to  go. 
That  old  rip-snorter  sure  put  a  spoke  in  my 
wheel !  Looks  like  Foy  might  see  them  lights 
and  drift  out  away  from  this.  But  he  won't, 
I  guess — they  said  his  hidey-hole  was  right  on 
top,  and  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  will  hide 
the  fires  from  him.  Probably  asleep,  anyhow, 
thinkin'  he's  safe.  I  slep'  three  hours  this 
morning  at  the  Major's;  but  Foy  he  didn't 
sleep  any.  Even  if  he  did  leave,  they'd 

track  him  up  in  the  morning  and  get  him — 
107 


io8        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

and  he  knows  it.  Somebody's  goin'  to  be 
awfully  annoyed  when  he  misses  this 
horse." 

He  could  see  the  riders,  dim-flitting  as 
they  passed  between  him  and  the  flames. 
Once  he  stopped  to  listen;  he  heard  the  re 
maining  half  of  the  man-hunt  leaving  the 
ranch.  They  were  riding  hard.  Thereafter 
Pringle  had  no  mercy  on  his  horse.  Ride  as 
he  might,  those  who  followed  had  the  inner 
circle;  when  he  rounded  the  fires  and  struck 
the  hill  his  start  was  perilously  slight.  While 
the  footing  was  soft  he  urged  the  wearied 
horse  up  the  slope ;  at  the  first  rocky  space  he 
abandoned  the  poor  beast  lest  the  floundering 
of  shod  hoofs  should  betray  him.  He  took 
off  saddle  and  bridle;  he  hung  the  canteen 
over  his  shoulder  and  pressed  on  afoot. 

A  light  breeze  had  overcast  the  stars  with 
thin  and  fleecy  clouds.  This  made  for  Prin- 
gle's  safety;  it  also  made  the  going  harder — 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        109 

and  it  would  have  been  hard  going  by  day 
light. 

The  slope  became  steeper;  ledges  of  rock, 
little  at  first,  became  larger  and  more  fre 
quent;  he  came  to  bluffs  that  barred  his  prog 
ress,  slow  and  painful  at  best;  he  was  forced 
to  search  to  left  or  right  for  broken  places 
where  he  could  climb.  Bits  of  rock,  dis 
lodged  by  his  feet,  fell  clattering  despite  his 
utmost  care ;  he  heard  the  like  from  below,  to 
the  left,  to  the  right.  The  short  night  wore 
swiftly  on. 

With  equal  fortune  John  Wesley  should 
have  maintained  his  lead.  But  he  found 
more  than  his  share  of  no-thoroughfares. 
Before  long  his  ears  told  him  that  men  were 
almost  abreast  of  him  on  each  side.  He  was 
handicapped  now,  because  he  must  shun  any 
chance  meeting.  His  immediate  neighbors, 
however,  had  no  such  fear;  they  edged  closer 
and  closer  together  as  they  climbed.  At  last, 


i  io       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

stopped  against  a  perpendicular  wall  ten  feet 
high,  he  heard  them  creeping  toward  him 
from  both  sides,  with  a  guarded  "  Coo-ee !  " 
each  to  the  other;  John  Wesley  slipped  down 
the  hill  to  the  nearest  bush.  His  neighbors 
came  together  and  held  a  whispered  dis 
course.  They  viewed  the  barrier  with 
marked  patience,  it  seemed;  they  sat  down  in 
friendly  fashion  and  smoked  cigarette  after 
cigarette;  the  hum  of  their  hushed  voices 
reached  Pringle,  murmuring  and  indistinct. 
It  might  almost  be  thought  that  they  were 
willing  for  others  to  precede  them  in  the 
place  of  honor.  A  faint  glow  showed  in 
the  east;  the  moon  had  thoughts  of 
rising. 

After  an  interminable  half-hour  the  two 
worthies  passed  on  to  the  right.  Pringle  took 
to  the  left,  more  swiftly.  Time  for  caution 
had  passed;  moonlight  might  betray  him. 
When  he  found  a  way  up  that  unlucky  wall 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        in 

others  of  the  search  party  farther  to  the  left 
were  well  beyond  him. 

Perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  the  last 
sheer  cliff,  the  Thumb  which  gave  the  hill  its 
name,  frowned  above  him,  a  hundred  feet 
from  base  to  crest.  Pringle  bore  obliquely 
up  to  the  right.  Speed  was  his  best  safety 
now;  he  pushed  on  boldly,  cheered  by  the 
thought  that  if  seen  by  any  of  the  posse  he 
would  be  taken  for  one  of  their  own  num 
ber.  But  Foy,  seeing  him,  would  make  the 
same  mistake !  It  was  an  uncomfortable  re 
flection. 

The  pitch  was  less  abrupt  now,  and  there 
were  no  more  ledges ;  instead,  bowlders  were 
strewn  along  the  rounded  slope,  with  bush 
and  stunted  tree  between.  Through  these 
Pringle  breasted  his  way,  seeking  even  more 
to  protect  himself  from  above  than  from  be 
low,  forced  at  times  to  crawl  through  an  open 
space  exposed  to  possible  fire  from  both  sides; 


H2        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

so  came  at  last  to  the  masses  of  splintered 
and  broken  rock  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  where 
he  sank  breathless  and  panting. 

The  tethered  constellations  paled  in  the 
sky;  the  moon  rose  and  lit  the  cliff  with  silver 
fire.  The  worst  was  yet  to  come.  Foy 
would  ask  no  questions  of  any  prowler,  that 
was  sure;  he  would  reason  that  a  friend 
would  call  out  boldly.  And  John  Wesley 
had  no  idea  where  Foy  or  his  cave  might  be. 
Yet  he  must  be  found. 

With  a  hearty  swig  at  the  canteen  Pringle 
crept  off  to  the  right.  The  moonlight  beat 
full  upon  the  cliff.  He  had  little  trouble  in 
that  ruin  of  broken  stone  to  find  cover  from 
foes  below;  but  at  each  turn  he  confidently 
looked  forward  to  a  bullet  from  his  friend. 

"Foy!  Foy!"  he  called  softly  as  he 
crawled.  "  It's  Pringle  !  Don't  shoot  I  " 

After  a  space  he  came  to  an  angle  where 
the  cliff  turned  abruptly  west  and  dwindled 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        113 

sharply  in  height.  He  remembered  what 
the  Major  had  said — the  upper  entrance  of 
the  cave  came  out  on  the  highest  crest  of  the 
hill.  He  turned  back  to  retrace  his  painful 
way.  The  smell  of  dawn  was  in  the  air; 
the  east  sparkled.  No  sound  came  from 
the  ambush  all  around.  The  end  was 
near. 

He  passed  by  his  starting-point;  he  crept 
on  by  slide  and  bush  and  stone.  The  moon 
magic  faded  and  paled,  mingled  with  the 
swift  gray  of  dawn.  He  held  his  perilous 
way.  Cold  sweat  stood  on  his  brow.  If 
Foy  or  a  foe  of  Foy  were  on  the  cliff  now, 
how  easy  to  topple  down  a  stone  upon  him! 
The  absolute  stillness  was  painful.  A 
thought  came  to  him  of  Stella  Vorhis — her 
laughing  eyes,  her  misty  hair,  the  little  hand 
that  had  lingered  upon  his  own.  Such  a 
little,  little  hand! 

Before  him  a  narrow  slit  opened  in  the 


H4       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

wall — such  a  crevice  as  the  Major  had  de 
scribed. 

"  Foy!  Oh,  Foy!  "  he  called.  No  answer 
came.  He  raised  his  voice  a  little  louder. 
uFoy!  Speak  if  you're  there!  It's  Prin- 
gle!" 

A  gentle  voice  answered  from  the  cleft: 

"  Let  us  hope,  for  your  sake,  that  you  are 
not  mistaken  about  that.  I  should  be  dread 
fully  vexed  if  you  were  deceiving  me. 
The  voice  is  the  voice  of  Pringle,  but  how 
about  the  face?  I  can  only  see  your 
back." 

"  I  would  raise  my  head,  so  you  could  take 
a  nice  look  by  the  well-known  cold  gray  light 
of  the  justly  celebrated  dawn,"  rejoined  Prin 
gle,  "  if  I  wasn't  reasonably  sure  that  a  rifle 
shot  would  promptly  mar  the  classic  outlines 
of  my  face.  They're  all  around  you,  Foy. 
Hargis,  he  gave  you  away.  Don't  show  a 
finger  nail  of  yourself.  Let  me  crawl  up  be- 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        115 

hind  that  big  rock  ahead  and  then  you  can 
identify  me." 

"  It's  you,  all  right,"  said  Foy  when  Prin- 
gle  reached  the  rock  and  straightened  him 
self  up. 

u  I  told  you  so,"  said  Pringle,  peering  into 
the  shadows  of  the  cleft.  "  I  can't  see  you. 
And  how  am  I  going  to  get  to  you  ?  There 
are  twenty  men  with  point-blank  range.  I'm 
muddy,  scratched,  bruised,  tired  and  hungry, 
sleepy  and  cross — and  there's  thirty  feet  in 
the  open  between  here  and  you,  and  it  nearly 
broad  daylight.  If  I  try  to  cross  that  I'll 
run  twenty-five  hundred  pounds  to  the  ton, 
pure  lead.  Well,  we  can  put  up  a  pretty 
nifty  fight,  even  so.  You  go  back  to  the  other 
outlet  of  your  cave  and  I'll  stay  here.  I'm 
kinder  lonesome,  too.  .  .  .  Toss  me  some 
cartridges  first.  I  only  got  five.  I  left  in  a 
hurry.  You  got  forty-fives?" 

"  Plenty.       But    you     can't    stay    there. 


n6        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

They'll  pot  you  from  the  top  of  the  bluff,  first 
off.  Besides,  you  got  a  canteen,  I  see.  You 
back  up  to  that  mountain  mahogany  bush, 
slip  under  it,  and  worm  down  through  the 
rocks  till  you  come  to  a  little  scrub-oak  tree 
and  a  big  granite  bowlder.  They'll  give  you 
shelter  to  cross  the  ridge  into  a  deep  ravine 
that  leads  here  where  I  am.  You'll  be  out 
of  sight  all  the  way  up  once  you  hit  the  ravine. 
I'd — I'd  worm  along  pretty  spry  if  I  was  you, 
going  down  as  far  as  the  scrub  oak — say, 
about  as  swift  as  a  rattlesnake  strikes — and 
pray  any  little  prayers  you  happen  to  remem 
ber.  And  say,  Pringle,  before  you  go  ... 
I'm  rather  obliged  to  you  for  coming  up  here ; 
risking  taking  cold  and  all.  If  it'll  cheer  you 
up  any  I'll  undertake  that  anyone  getting  you 
on  the  trip  will  think  there's  one  gosh-awful 
echo  here." 

"S'long!"  said  Pringle. 

He  wriggled  backward  and  disappeared. 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        117 

Ten  minutes  later  he  writhed  under  the  bush 
at  Foy's  feet. 

"  Never  saw  me !  "  he  said.  "  But  111  al 
ways  sleep  in  coils  after  this — always  sup 
posing  we  got  any  after  this  coming  to  us." 

"  One  more  crawl,"  said  Foy,  leading  the 
way.  "  We'll  go  up  on  top.  Regular  fort  up 
there.  If  we've  got  to  die  we'll  die  in  the 


sun." 


He  stooped  at  what  seemed  the  end  of  the 
passage  and  crawled  out  of  sight  under  the 
low  branches  of  a  stunted  cedar.  Pringle 
followed  and  found  himself  in  the  pitch  dark. 

u  Grab  hold  of  my  coat  tail.  I  know  my 
way,  feeling  the  wall.  Watch  your  step  or 
you'll  bark  your  shins." 

The  cave  floor  was  smooth  underfoot,  ex 
cept  for  scattered  rocks;  it  rose  and  dipped, 
but  the  general  trend  was  sharply  upward. 

"  You're  quite  an  institution,  Pringle. 
You've  made  good  Stella's  word  of  you — the 


ii8        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

best  ever !  "  said  Foy  as  they  mounted.  "  But 
you  can't  do  me  any  good,  really.  I'll  enjoy 
your  company,  but  I  wish  you  hadn't 


come." 


'  That's  all  right.  I  always  like  to  finish 
what  I  begin." 

"Well,"  remarked  Foy  cheerfully,  "I 
reckon  we've  reached  the  big  finish,  both  of 
us.  I  don't  see  any  way  out.  All  they've 
got  to  do  is  to  sit  tight  till  we  starve  out  for 
water.  Wish  you  was  out  of  it.  It's  going 
to  be  tough  on  Stella,  losing  her  friend  and 
— and  me,  both  at  once.  How's  she  making 
out?  Full  of  fight  and  hope  to  the  last,  I'll 
bet." 

'They  had  me  under  herd;  but  she  was 
wishing  for  the  Bar  Cross  buddies  to  butt  in, 
I  believe.  Reckon  your  sheriff-man  guessed 
it.  He  had  her  under  guard,  too." 

"  Nice  man,  the  sheriff !  How'd  you  get 
away  from  your  herder?" 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        119 

"  He  don't  just  remember,"  said  Pringle. 

"Who  was  it?" 

"  Applegate.  Dreadful  absent-minded, 
Applegate  is.  Ouch !  There  went  my  other 
shin.  Had  any  sleep?  " 

"  Most  all  night.  Something  woke  me  up 
about  two  hours  ago,  and  I  kept  on  the  look 


out  ever  since." 


"  That  was  me,  I  guess.  I  had  to  step 
lively.  They  was  crowding  me." 

"  If  the  Bar  Cross  happened  to  get  word," 
observed  Foy  thoughtfully,  "  we  might  stand 
some  hack.  But  they  won't.  It's  good- 
by,  vain  world,  for  ours!  Say,  in  case  a 
miracle  happens  for  you,  just  make  a  memo 
about  the  sheriff  being  a  nuisance,  will 
you?" 

"  I'll  tie  a  string  on  my  finger.  Any 
thing  else?" 

*  You  might  stick  around  and  cheer  Stella 
up  a  little.  I'll  do  as  much  for  you  some- 


I2O       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

time.  I'm  thinking  she'll  feel  pretty  bad  at 
first.  Here  we  are  !  " 

A  faint  glimmer  showed  ahead.  They 
crawled  under  low  bushes  and  stumbled  out, 
in  what  seemed  at  first  a  dazzle  of  light; 
into  a  small  saucer-shaped  plat  of  earth  a 
few  feet  across,  enclosed  by  an  irregular  oval 
made  by  great  blocks  of  stone,  man-high. 
Below,  a  succession  of  little  cliffs  fell  away, 
stair  fashion,  to  an  exceeding  high  and  nar 
row  gap  which  separated  Little  Thumb  Butte 
from  its  greater  neighbor,  Big  Thumb  Butte. 

"  Castle  Craney  Crow,"  smiled  Foy  with  a 
proprietary  wave  of  his  hand.  "  Just  right 
for  our  business,  isn't  it?  Make  yourself 
at  home,  while  I  take  a  peep  around  about." 
He  bent  to  peer  through  bush  and  crack. 
"  Nothing  stirring,"  he  announced.  He 
leaned  his  rifle  against  a  walling  rock. 
"  Let's  have  a  look  at  that  water." 

He  raised  the  canteen  to  his  lips.    Pringle 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        121 

struck  swift  and  hard  to  the  tilted  chin.  Foy 
dropped  like  a  poled  bullock;  his  head  struck 
heavily  against  the  sharp  corner  of  a  rock. 
Pringle  pounced  on  the  stricken  man.  He 
threw  Foy's  sixshooter  aside ;  he  pulled  Foy's 
wrists  behind  him  and  tied  them  tightly  with 
a  handkerchief.  Then  he  rolled  his  captive 
over. 

Foy's  eyes  opened;  they  rolled  back  till 
only  the  whites  were  visible ;  his  lips  twitched. 
Pringle  hastily  bound  his  handkerchief  to  the 
gash  the  stone  had  made;  he  sprinkled  the 
blood-streaked  face  with  water;  he  spilled 
drops  of  water  between  the  parted  lips.  Foy 
did  not  revive. 

Pringle  stuck  his  hat  on  the  rifle  muzzle 
and  waved  it  over  the  parapet  of  rock. 

"Hello!"  he  shouted.  "Bring  on  your 
reward!  I've  got  Foy!  It's  me — Pringle! 
Come  get  him;  and  be  quick — he's  bleeding 
mighty  bad." 


122        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  Come  out,  you !  Hands  up  and  no  mon 
key  business!  "  answered  a  startled  voice  not 
fifty  yards  away. 

"Who's  that?  That  you,  Nueces?  Give 
me  your  word  and  I'll  lug  him  out.  No  time 
to  lose — he's  hurt,  and  hurt  bad." 

"  You  play  fair  and  we  will.  I  give  my 
word!  "  shouted  Nueces. 

"  Here  goes !  "  Pringle  pitched  the  rifle 
over.  A  moment  later  he  staggered  out  be 
tween  the  rocks,  bearing  Foy's  heavy  weight 
in  his  arms.  The  head  hung  helpless,  blood- 
spattered;  the  body  was  limp  and  slack;  the 
legs  dragged  sprawling;  the  dreaded  hands 
were  bound. 

Pringle  laid  his  burden  on  the  grass. 

"  Here  he  is,  you  hyenas  I  His  hands  are 
tied — are  you  still  afraid  of  him?  Damn 
you !  The  man's  bleeding  to  death !  " 


Chapter  VI 

" "\7OU  treacherous,  dirty  hound !  "  said 

A     Breslin. 

"  Of  all  the  low-down  skunks  I  ever  seen, 
you  sure  are  the  skunkiest!"  said  Nueces. 
"  The  sheriff  was  right  after  all.  Cur-dog 
fits  you  to  a  T."  He  finished  washing  out 
the  cut  on  Foy's  head  as  he  spoke.  "  Now 
the  bandages,  Anastacio.  We'll  have  the 
blood  stopped  in  a  jiffy.  Funny  he  hasn't 
come  to.  It's  been  a  long  while.  It  ain't  the 
head  ails  him.  This  isn't  such  a  deep  cut; 
it  oughtn't  to  put  him  out.  Just  happened  to 
strike  a  vein."  He  bound  up  the  cut  with  the 
deftness  of  experience. 

"  I  hit  him  under  the  jaw,"  observed 
Pringle.  "  That's  what  did  the  business  for 

him.    He'll  be  around  directly." 
123 


124       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

Anastacio  looked  up  at  Pringle;  measure 
less  contempt  was  in  his  eyes. 

"  Judas  Iscariot  could  have  sublet  his  job 
to  you  at  half  price  if  you'd  been  in  the 
neighborhood.  You  are  the  limit,  plus!  I 
hope  to  see  you  fry  in  a  New  English  hell!  " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  too,"  said  Pringle 
unabashed.  "  I  might  just  as  well  have  that 
forty-five  hundred  as  anyone.  It  wouldn't 
amount  to  much  split  amongst  all  you  fel 
lows,  but  it's  quite  a  bundle  for  one  man. 
That'll  keep  the  wolf  from  the  well-known 
door  for  quite  a  while." 

"  You  won't  touch  a  cent  of  it  I  "  declared 
the  sheriff. 

"  Won't  I  though?  We'll  see  about  that. 
I  captured  him  alone,  didn't  I  ?  Oh,  I  reckon 
I'll  finger  the  money,  alrighty !  " 

"Here,  fellows;  give  him  a  bait  of 
whisky,"  said  Creagan. 

Breslin,  kneeling  at  Foy's  side,  took 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth       1125 

extended  flask.  They  administered  the 
stimulant  cautiously,  a  sip  at  a  time.  Foy's 
eyes  flickered;  his  breath  came  freer. 

"  He's  coming!  "  said  Breslin.  "  Give  him 
a  sip  of  water  now." 

u  He'll  be  O.  K.  in  five  minutes,  far  as 
settin'  up  goes,"  said  old  Nueces,  well 
pleased;  "  but  he  ain't  goin'  to  be  any  too 
peart  for  quite  some  time — not  for  gettin* 
down  off  o'  this  hill.  See— he's  battin'  his 
eyes  and  working  his  hands  around.  He  sure 
heard  the  birdies  singl  " 

"  The  rest  of  you  boys  had  just  as  well  go 
on  down  to  the  shack,"  directed  the  sheriff. 
"  Creagan  and  Joe  and  me  will  take  care  of 
Foy  till  he's  able  to  move  or  be  moved,  and 
bring  him  into  camp.  You  just  lead  up  our 
three  horses  and  an  extra  one  for  Foy — up 
as  far  as  you  can  fetch  'em.  One  of  you  can 
ride  home  behind  someone.  Call  down  to 
the  bunch  under  the  cliff  that  we've  got  'era, 


126        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

and  for  them  to  hike  out  to  the  ranch  and 
take  a  nap.  You'd  better  turn  old  Vorhis 
loose — and  that  girl.  They  can't  do  any 
harm  now." 

"  Bring  my  horse,  too,"  said  Anastacio. 
"  I'm  staying.  I  want  to  be  sure  the  invalid 
gets  .  .  .  proper  care." 

"  Me  too,"  said  Breslin. 

"  And  I'm  staying  to  kinder  superintend," 
said  Nueces  dryly.  "  Sheriff,"  he  added,  as  the 
main  body  of  the  posse  fell  off  down  the  hill 

u  and  you,  too,  Barela — I  don't  just  know 
what's  going  on  here,  but  I'm  stayin'  with  you 
to  a  fare-you-well.  You  two  seem  to  be  buck 
ing  each  other." 

No  one  answered. 

"Sulky,  hey?  Well,  anyhow,  call  it  off 
long  enough  to  drive  this  Pringle  thing  away 
from  here.  He  ain't  fittin'  for  no  man  to 
herd  with." 

"  I'm  staying  right  with  this  man  Foy  till 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        127 

I  get  that  reward,"  announced  Pringle. 
"  Those  are  my  superintentions.  Much  I 
care  what  you  think  about  me !  There's  other 
places  besides  this." 

Breslin  raised  his  eye  from  Foy's  face  and 
regarded  Pringle  without  heat — a  steady, 
contemplative  look,  as  of  one  who  studies 
some  strange  and  interesting  animal.  Then 
he  waved  his  hand  down  the  pass,  where 
certain  of  the  departing  posse,  were  bringing 
the  saddle  horses  in  obedience  to  the  sheriff's 
instructions. 

"  They'll  carry  a  nice  report  of  you,"  ob 
served  Breslin  quietly.  "  What  do  you  sup 
pose  that  little  girl  will  think?" 

A  flicker  of  red  came  to  Pringle's  hard 
brown  face.  Even  the  scorn  of  Espalin  and 
Creagan  had  left  him  unabashed,  but  now 
he  winced  visibly;  and,  for  once,  he  had  no 
reply  to  make. 

Foy  gasped,  struggled  to  a  sitting  position, 


128        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

aided  by  his  oddly  assorted  ministrants, 
gazed  round  in  a  dazed  condition  and  lapsed 
back  into  unconsciousness. 

"  I'll  take  my  dyin'  oath  it  ain't  the  cut 
that  ails  him,"  said  the  ranger,  tucking  a  coat 
under  Foy's  blood-stained  head.  "  That  must 
have  been  a  horrible  jolt  on  his  jaw,  Pringle. 
You're  no  kind  of  a  man  at  all — no  part  of  a 
man.  You're  a  shameless,  black-hearted 
traitor ;  but  I  got  to  hand  it  to  you  as  a  slug 
ger.  Two  knock-outs  in  one  day — and  such 
men  as  them !  I  don't  understand  it." 

"  He  'most  keel  Applegate,"  said  the  Mex 
ican. 

"Aw,  it's  easy!"  said  Pringle  eagerly. 
"  There  ain't  one  man  in  a  thousand  knows 
how  to  fight.  It  ain't  cussin'  and  gritting 
your  teeth,  and  swellin'  up  your  biceps  and 
clenching  your  fists  up  tight  that  does  the 
trick.  You  want  to  hit  like  there  wasn't  any 
body  there.  I'll  show  you  sometime." 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        129 

He  paused  inquiringly,  as  if  to  book  any 
acceptance  of  this  kindly  offer.  No  such  en 
gagements  being  made,  Pringle  continued: 

"  Supposin'  you  was  throwin'  a  baseball 
and  your  hand  struck  a  man  accidentally; 
you'd  hurt  him  every  time — only  you'd  break 
your  arm  that  way.  That  ain't  the  way  to 
strike.  I'll  show  you." 

"  That  wasn't  no  olive  branch  I  was  hold- 
in'  out,"  stated  Nueces  River.  "  You'll  show 
me  nothin' — turncoat!  " 

"  It  helps  a  lot,  too,  when  the  man  you  hit 
is  not  expecting  it,"  suggested  Anastacio 
smoothly.  "  You  might  show  me  sometime — 
when  I'm  looking  for  it." 

"Now  what's  biting  you?"  demanded 
Pringle  testily.  "  What  did  you  expect  me 
to  do — send  'em  a  note  by  registered  mail?  " 

"  I'm  not  speaking  about  Applegate. 
That  was  all  right.  I  am  speaking  about 
your  friend." 


130       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"Here;  Kit's  coming  to  life  again,"  said 
Lisner. 

Kitty  Foy  rolled  over;  they  propped  him 
up;  he  looked  round  rather  wildly  from  one 
to  the  other.  His  face  cleared.  His  eye  fell 
upon  Pringle,  where  it  rested  with  a  steady 
intentness.  When  he  spoke,  at  last,  he  ig 
nored  the  others  entirely. 

"  And  I  thought  you  were  my  friend, 
Pringle.  I  trusted  you !  "  he  said  with  omi 
nous  quietness.  "  I'll  make  a  note  of  it.  I 
have  a  good  memory,  Pringle — and  good 
friends.  Give  me  some  water,  someone.  I 
feel  sick." 

Espalin  brought  a  canteen. 

"  Take  your  time,  Chris,"  said  Lisner. 
"  Tell  us  when  you  feel  able  to  go." 

"  I'll  be  all  right  after  a  little.  Say,  boys, 
it  was  the  queerest  feeling — coming  to,  I 
mean.  I  could  almost  hear  your  voices,  first. 
Then  I  heard  them  a  long  ways  off  but  I 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        131 

couldn't  make  any  sense  to  the  words.  Here ; 
let  me  lean  my  back  up  against  this  rock  and 
sit  quiet  for  a  while.  Then  we'll  go.  I'm 
giddy  yet.'7 

"I've  got  it!"  announced  Nueces  a  mo 
ment  later.  "  Barela,  he's  hankering  to  be 
sheriff — that's  the  trouble.  He  wanted  to 
take  Chris  himself,  to  help  things  along. 
That  would  be  quite  a  feather  in  any  man's 
hat — done  fair.  And  the  sheriff,  natural 
enough,  he  don't  want  nothing  of  the  kind." 

'  That's  it,"  said  Anastacio,  amusement  in 
his  eyes.  "  I  knew  you  were  a  good  gunman, 
Nueces,  but  I  never  suspected  you  of  brains 
before." 

"What's  the  matter  with  that  guess?" 
said  Nueces  sulkily.  "  Kid,  you're  always 
ridin'  me.  Don't  you  try  to  use  any  spurs !  " 

"  I'm  in  on  that,"  said  Pringle,  rising 
brightly.  '  That's  my  happy  chance  to  join 
in  this  lovin'  conversation.  Speaking  about 


132        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

gunmen,  I'm  a  beaut !    See  that  hawk  screech- 
in'  around  up  there?    Well,  watch !  " 

The  hawk  soared  high  above.  Pringle 
barely  raised  Foy's  rifle  to  his  shoulder  as 
he  fired;  the  hawk  tumbled  headlong.  Prin 
gle  jerked  the  lever,  throwing  another  cart 
ridge  into  the  barrel,  as  if  to  fire  again  at  the 
falling  bird.  Inconceivably  swift,  the  cocked 
rifle  whirled  to  cover  the  seated  posse. 

"  Steady!"  said  Pringle.  "I'm  watchin' 
you,  Nueces!  Chris,  when  you're  able  to 
walk,  go  on  down  and  pick  you  a  horse  from 
that  bunch.  Unsaddle  the  others  and  drive 
'em  along  a  ways  as  you  go."  Still  speaking, 
he  edged  behind  the  cover  of  a  high  rock. 
"  I'll  address  the  meetin'  till  you  get  a  good 
head  start.  .  .  .  Steady  in  the  boat!  " 

"  Well,  by  Heck!  "  said  Nueces. 

"  And  I  thought  you  had  betrayed  me !  " 
cried  Foy. 

"  Well,  I  hadn't.    This  was  the  only  show 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        133 

to  get  off.  ...  I  hate  to  kill  you,  Nueces; 
but  I  will  if  you  make  a  move." 

"Hell!  I  ain't  makin'  no  move!  What 
do  you  think  I  am — a  damn  fool?"  said 
Neuces.  "  If  I  moved  any  it  was  because  I 
am  about  to  crack  under  the  justly  celebrated 
strain.  Say,  young  fellow,  it  strikes  me  that 
you  change  sides  pretty  often." 

"  Yes;  I  am  the  Acrobat  of  the  Breakfast 
Table,"  said  Pringle  modestly.  "  Thanks 
for  the  young  fellow.  That  listens  good." 

"  Look  out  I  don't  have  you  performing 
on  a  tight  rope  yet!"  growled  the  sheriff 
hoarsely.  "  There'll  be  more  to  this.  You 
haven't  got  out  of  the  country  yet." 

"  That  will  be  all  from  you,  Sheriff.  You, 
too,  Creagan — and  Espalin.  Not  a  word  or 
I'll  shoot.  And  I  don't  care  how  soon  you 
begin  to  talk.  That  goes !  " 

Espalin  shriveled  up;  the  sheriff  and  Crea 
gan  sat  sullen  and  silent. 


134        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

Foy  got  to  his  feet  rather  unsteadily. 

"  Chris,  you  might  slip  around  and  gather 
up  their  guns,"  said  Pringle.  "  Pick  out  one 
for  yourself.  I  left  yours  where  I  threw  it 
when  I  picked  it  out  of  your  belt.  I  meant 
to  knock  you  out,  Chris — there  wasn't  any 
other  way;  but  I  didn't  mean  to  plumb  kill 
you.  You  hit  your  head  on  a  rock  when  you 
fell.  It  wouldn't  have  done  any  good  to  have 
got  the  drop  on  you.  You  had  made  up  your 
mind  not  to  surrender.  You  would  have  shot 
anyhow;  and,  of  course,  I  couldn't  shoot.  I'd 
just  have  got  myself  killed  for  nothing.  No 
good  to  play  I'd  taken  you  prisoner.  This 
crowd  knew  you  wouldn't  be  taken — except 
by  treachery.  So  I  played  traitor.  As  it  was, 
when  I  knocked  you  out  you  didn't  look  much 
like  no  put-up  job.  You  was  bleeding  like 
a  stuck  pig." 

"  Hold  on,  there,  before  you  try  to  take 
my  gun  I  "  warned  old  Nueces  River  as  Foy 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        135 

came  to  him  for  his  gun,  collecting.  "  You 
got  the  big  drop  on  me,  Pringle,  and  I  would 
n't  raise  a  hand  to  keep  Chris  from  getting 
off  anyhow — not  now.  But  I  used  to  be  a 
ranger — and  the  rangers  were  sworn  never 
to  give  up  their  guns." 

"  How  about  it,  Pringle  ?  "  asked  Foy,  who 
had  already  relieved  the  sheriff  and  his  satel 
lites  of  their  guns.  "  He'll  do  exactly  as  he 
says — both  ways." 

"  I  wasn't  done  talking  yet,"  said  Nueces 
irritably.  "  But  I'll  let  Chris  take  my  gun, 
on  one  condition." 

"What's  that?"  inquired  Pringle. 

'  Why,  if  you  ain't  busy  next  Saturday  I'd 
like  to  have  you  call  around — about  one 
o'clock,  say — and  kick  me  good  and  hard." 

"  Let  him  keep  his  gun.  He  called  me  a 
young  fellow.  And  I  don't  want  Breslin's, 
anyway.  He's  all  right.  Not  to  play  any 
favorites,  let  Anastacio  keep  his.  There  are 


136        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

times,"  said  Pringle,  "  when  I  have  great 
hopes  of  Anastacio.  I'm  thinking  some  of 
taking  him  in  hand  to  see  if  I  can't  make  a 
man  of  him." 

"  Ananias  the  Amateur,"  said  Anastacio, 
"  I  thank  you  for  those  kind  words.  And  I'd 
like  to  see  you  Saturday  about  two — when 
you  get  through  with  Nueces.  I'm  next  on 
the  waiting  list.  This  will  be  a  lesson  to  me 
never  to  let  my  opinion  of  a  man  be  changed 
by  anything  he  may  do." 

"  If  you  fellows  feel  that  way,"  said  Foy, 
"  how  about  me?  How  do  you  suppose  I 
feel?  This  man  has  risked  his  life  fifty  times 
for  me — and  what  did  I  think  of  him?  " 

"  If  you  ask  me,  Christopher,"  said  Ana 
stacio,  "  I  think  you  were  quite  excusable.  It 
was  all  very  well  to  dissemble  his  love — but 
I  should  feel  doubtful  of  any  man  that 
handed  me  such  a  wallop  as  that  until  the  mat 
ter  had  been  fully  explained." 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        137 

"  What  I  want  to  know,  Pringle,  is,  how 
the  deuce  you  got  up  here  so  slick?"  said 
Nueces. 

"  Oh,  that's  easy!  I  can  run  a  mile  in 
nothing  flat" 

"Oh— that's  it?  You  hid  in  the  water 
pen?" 

"  Under  the  troughs.  Bright  idea  of 
yours,  them  fires !  I  knew  just  where  not  to 
go.  After  you  left  I  hooked  a  horse.  If 
you'd  had  sense  enough  to  go  with  the  sheriff 
and  eat  your  supper  like  a  human  being  I'd 
'a'  hooked  two  horses,  and  Chris  and  me 
would  now  be  getting  farther  and  farther.  I 
don't  want  you  ever  to  do  that  again.  Sup 
pose  Chris  had  killed  me  when  I  tried  to 
knock  him  out?  Fine  large  name  I  would  V 
left  for  myself,  wouldn't  I?" 

"  If  you  had  fought  it  out  with  us,"  said 
Breslin  musingly,  "  you  would  have  been 
killed — both  of  you;  and  you  would  have 


138        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

killed  others.  Mr.  Pringle,  you  have  done 
a  fine  thing.  I  apologize  to  you." 

"Why,  that  all  goes  without  saying,  my 
boy.  As  for  my  part — why,  I  don't  bother 
much  about  a  blue  tin  heaven  or  a  comic- 
supplement  hell,  but  I'm  right  smart  inter 
ested  in  right  here  and  now.  It's  a  right 
nice  little  old  world,  take  it  by  and  large, 
and  I  like  to  help  out  at  whatever  comes  my 
way,  if  it  takes  fourteen  innings.  But,  so 
long  as  you  feel  that  way  about  it,  maybe 
you'll  believe  me  now,  when  I  say  that  Chris 
topher  Foy  was  with  me  all  last  night  and  he 
didn't  shoot  Dick  Marr." 

"  That's  right,"  said  Foy.  "  I  don't  know 
who  killed  Dick  Marr;  but  I  do  know  that 
Creagan,  Joe  Espalin,  and  Applegate  in 
tended  to  kill  me  last  night.  They  gave  me 
back  my  sixshooter,  that  Ben  Creagan  had 
borrowed — and  it  was  loaded  with  blanks. 
Then  they  pitched  onto  me,  and  if  it  hadn't 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        139 

been  for  Pringle  they'd  have  got  me  sure  I 
We  left  town  at  eleven  o'clock  and  rode 
straight  to  the  Vorhis  Ranch." 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Anastacio.  "  You 
skip  along  now,  Chris.  You're  fit  to  ride." 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  stay  and  see  it  out?  " 

"  It  won't  do.  For  one  thing,  your  thinker 
isn't  working  as  per  invoice,"  said  Nueces 
River.  "  You're  in  no  fix  to  do  yourself  jus 
tice.  We'll  look  after  your  interests.  You 
know  some  of  the  posse  might  be  coming 
back,  askin'  fool  questions.  Pull  your  freight 
up  to  the  Bar  Cross  till  we  send  for  you." 

"  Well — if  you  think  Pringle  isn't  running 
any  risks  I'll  go." 

"  We'll  take  care  of  Pringle.  Guess  we'll 
make  him  sheriff  next  fall,  maybe — just  to 
keep  Anastacio  in  his  place.  Drift!  " 

"  No  sheriffin'  for  mine,  thanks.  Con 
tracting  is  my  line.  Subcontracting  1  " 

"  So  long,  boys !    You  know  what  I'd  like 


140       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

to  say.  You  gave  me  a  square  deal,  you 
three  chaps,"  said  Foy.  "  Get  word  to 
Stella  as  soon  as  ever  you  can.  She  thinks 
I'm  a  prisoner,  you  know.  You  know  what 
I  want  to  say  there,  Pringle — tell  her  for 
me.  .  .  .  Say!  Why  don't  you  all  go  in 
now?  You  boys  all  know  that  Stella's  en 
gaged  to  me,  don't  you?  What's  the  good 
of  keeping  her  in  suspense?  Go  on  to  the 
ranch,  right  away." 

"  I  told  you  your  head  wasn't  working 
just  right,"  jeered  Nueces.  "  We  want  to 
give  you  a  good  start.  They'll  be  after  you 
again,  and  you're  in  no  fix  to  do  any  hard 
riding.  But  one  of  us  will  go.  Breslin, 
you  go." 

'  Too  late,"  observed  Anastacio  quietly. 
There  is  Miss  Vorhis  now,  with  her  father. 
They're  climbing  to  the  Gap.  Go  on,  Foy." 

'  They've  got  a  led  horse,"  said  Nueces 
as  Stella  and  the  Major  came  to  the  highest 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        141 

point  of  the  Gap.  "  Who's  that  for?  Chris? 
But  they  couldn't  know  about  Chris.  And 
how  did  they  get  here  so  quick?  Don't  seem 
like  they've  had  hardly  time." 

Stella  dismounted;  she  pressed  on  up  the 
hill  to  meet  her  lover.  The  first  sunshafts 
struck  into  the  Gap,  lit  up  the  narrow  walls 
with  red  glory. 

"Magic  Casements!"  thought  Pringle.- 

"Watch  Foy  get  over  the  ground!  "  said 
Anastacio.  "  He'll  break  his  neck  before  he 
gets  down.  I  don't  blame  him.  He's  nearly 
down.  Look  the  other  way,  boys !  " 

They  looked  the  other  way,  and  there  were 
none  to  see  that  meeting.  Unless,  perhaps, 
the  gods  looked  down  from  high  Olympus — 
the  poor  immortals — -and  turned  away,  dis 
consolate,  to  the  cheerless  fields  of  asphodel. 

"  But  they're  not  going  away,"  said  Bres- 
lin  after  a  suitable  interval.  "They're  wait 
ing;  and  the  Major's  waving  his  hat  at  us." 


142        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"  I'll  go  see  what  they  want,"  said  Ana- 
stacio. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  back,  rather 
breathless  and  extremely  agitated  in  appear 
ance. 

"Well?  Spill  it!"  said  Nueces.  "Get 
your  breath  first.  What's  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  Applegate's  dead.  Joe  Espalin,  I  arrest 
you  for  the  murder  of  Richard  Marr!  Ap- 
plegate  confessed!" 

"  He  lied !  He  lied !  "  screamed  Espalin. 
"  I  was  with  Ben  till  daylight,  at  the  monte 
game;  they  all  tell  you.  The  sheriff  he  try 
to  make  me  keel  heem — he  try  to  buy  me  to 
do  eet — he  keel  Dick  Marr  heemself  1  " 

"That's  right!"  spoke  Creagan,  sud 
denly  white  and  haggard.  His  voice  was  a 
cringing  whine;  his  eyes  groveled.  "Marr 
was  at  Lisner's  house.  We  all  went  over 
there  after  the  fight.  Lisner  waked  Marr  up 
— he'd  been  tryin'  to  egg  Marr  on  to  kill 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        143 

Foy  all  day,  but  Marr  was  too  drunk.  He 
was  sobering  up  when  we  waked  him.  Lisner 
tried  to  rib  him  up  to  go  after  Foy  and  way 
lay  him — told  him  he  had  been  threatening 
Foy's  life  while  he  was  drunk,  and  that  Foy'd 
kill  him  if  he  didn't  get  Foy  first.  Dick  said 
he  wouldn't  do  it — -he'd  go  along  to  help  ar 
rest  Foy,  but  that's  all  he'd  do.  The  sheriff 
and  Joe  went  out  together  for  a  powwow. 
The  sheriff  came  back  alone,  black  as  thun 
der — him  and  Dick  rode  off  together " 

The  sheriff  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  heavy 
face  bloated  and  blotched  with  terror. 

"  He  cursed  me;  he  tried  to  pull  his  gun !  " 
he  wailed.  His  eyes  protruded,  glaring;  one 
hand  clutched  at  his  throat,  the  other  spread 
out  before  him  as  he  tottered,  stumbling. 
"Oh,  my  God!  "he  sobbed. 

'  That  will   do   nicely,"    said   Anastacio. 

'  You're  guilty  as  hell !     I'll  put  your  own 

handcuffs  on  you.     Oddly  enough,  the  law 


144       The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

provides  that  when  it  is  necessary  to  arrest 
the  sheriff  the  duty  falls  to  the  coroner.  It 
is  very  appropriate.  You  must  pardon  me, 
Mr.  Lisner,  if  I  seem  unsympathetic.  Dick 
Marr  was  your  friend!  And  you  have  not 
been  entirely  fair  with  Foy,  I  fear.  .  .  . 
Creagan,  we'll  hold  you  and  Joe  for  com 
plicity  and  for  conspiracy  in  Foy's  case. 
We'll  arrest  Applegate,  too,  when  we  get  to 
camp.  He'll  be  awfully  vexed." 

"  What!  "  shrieked  the  sheriff,  raising  his 
manacled  hands.  "Liar!  Murderer!" 

"  So  Applegate's  not  dead  ?  Well,  I'm  just 
as  well  pleased,"  said  Pringle. 

"  Not  even  hurt  badly.  I  was  after  the 
Man  Lower  Down.  What  the  Major  told 
me  was  that  the  Barelas  were  at  the  ranch — 
more  than  enough  to  hold  Lisner's  crowd 
down.  They  come  at  daylight.  I  was  expect 
ing  that,  and  waiting.  As  I  told  you,  that's 
the  best  thing  I  do — waiting." 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        145 

"But  how  did  you  know?"  demanded 
Breslin,  puzzled. 

"  I  didn't  know,  for  sure.  I  had  a  hunch 
and  I  played  it.  So  I  killed  poor  Apple- 
gate — temporarily.  It  worked  out  just  right 
and  nothing  to  carry." 

"  One  of  the  mainest  matters  with  the 
widely-known  world,"  said  Pringle  wearily, 
"  is  that  people  won't  play  their  hunches. 
They  haven't  spunk  enough  to  believe  what 
they  know.  Let  me  spell  it  out  for  you  in 
words  of  two  cylinders,  Breslin :  You  saw 
that  I  knew  Creagan  and  Applegate,  while 
they  positively  refused  to  know  me  at  any 
price;  you  heard  the  sheriff  deny  that  I  was 
at  the  Gadsden  House  before  I'd  claimed 
anything  of  the  sort.  Of  course  you  didn't 
know  anything  about  the  fight  at  the  Gadsden 
House,  but  that  was  enough  to  show  you 
something  wasn't  right,  just  the  same.  You 
had  all  the  material  to  build  a  nice  plump 


146        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

hunch.    It  all  went  over  your  head.    You  put 
me  in  mind  of  the  lightning  bug: 

"  The  lightning  bug  is  brilliant, 

But  it  hasn't  any  mind; 
It  wanders  through  creation 
With  its  headlight  on  behind. 

"  Come  on — let's  move.  I'm  fair  dead  for 
sleep." 

'Just  a  minute!"  said  Anastacio.  "I 
want  to  call  your  attention  to  the  big  dust  off 
in  the  north.  I've  been  watching  it  half  an 
hour.  That  dust,  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  is  the 
Bar  Cross  coming;  they've  heard  the  news!  " 

"  So,  Mr.  Lisner,  you  hadn't  a  chance  to 
get  by  with  it,"  said  Pringle  slowly  and 
thoughtfully.  "  If  I  hadn't  balked  you,  the 
Barelas  stood  ready;  if  the  Barelas  failed, 
yonder  big  dust  was  on  the  way;  half  your 
own  posse  would  have  turned  on  you  for 
half  a  guess  at  the  truth.  It's  a  real  nice 
little  world — and  it  hates  a  lie.  A  good 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        147 

many  people  lay  their  fine-drawn  plans,  but 
they  mostly  don't  come  off !  Men  are  but 
dust,  they  tell  us.  Magnificent  dust!  This 
nice  little  old  world  of  ours,  in  the  long 
run,  is  going  right.  You  can't  beat  the 
Game  !  Once,  yes — or  twice — not  in  the  long 
run.  The  Percentage  is  all  against  you.  You 
can't  beat  the  Game !  " 

"  It's  up  to  you,  Sheriff,"  said  Anastacio 
briskly.  "  I  can  turn  you  over  to  the  Bar 
Cross  outfit  and  they'll  hang  you  now;  or  I 
can  turn  you  over  to  the  Barelas  and  you 
will  be  hung  later.  Dick  Marr  was  your 
friend !  Take  your  choice.  You  go  on  down, 
Pringle,  while  the  sheriff  is  looking  over  the 
relative  advantages  of  the  two  propositions. 
I  think  Miss  Vorhis  may  have  something  to 
say  to  you." 

She  came  to  meet  him ;  Foy  and  the  Major 
waited  by  the  horses. 


148        The  Desire  of  the  Moth 

"John!"  she  said.  "Faithful  John!" 
She  sought  his  hands. 

"  There  now,  honey — don't  take  on  so ! 
Don't!  It's  all  right!  You  know  what  the 
poet  says: 

"  Cast  your  bread  upon  the  waters 

And  you  may  live  to  say: 

'  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  had  the  crust 

That  once  I  threw  away! ' 

Her  throat  was  pulsing  swiftly;  her  eyes 
were  brimming  with  tears,  bruised  for  lost 
sleep. 

"Dearest  and  kindest  friend!  When  I 
think  what  you  have  done  for  me — that  you 
faced  shame  worse  than  death — guarded  by 
unprovable  honor — John !  John !  " 

"  Why,  you  mustn't,  honey — you  mustn't 
do  that!  Why,  Stella,  you're  crying — for 
me!  You  mustn't  do  that,  Little  Next 
Door!" 

"  If  you  had  been  killed,  taking  Chris — or 


The  Desire  of  the  Moth        149 

after  you  gave  him  up — no  one  but  me  would 
have  ever  believed  but  that  you  meant  it." 
"But  you  believed,  Stella?" 
"  Oh,  I  knew!    I  knew!" 
"  Even  when  you  first  heard  of  it?  " 
"  I  never  doubted  you — not  one  instant !    I 
knew  what  you  meant  to  do.     You  knew 
I  loved  him.    The  led  horse  was  for  you.    I 
thought  Chris  would  be  gone.     Why,  John 
Wesley,  I  have  known  you  all  my  life !    You 
couldn't  do  that!     You  couldn't!     Oh,  kiss 
me,  kiss  me — faithful  John !  " 

But  he  bent  and  kissed  her  hands — lest, 
looking  into  his  eyes,  she  should  read  in  the 
book  of  his  life  one  long,  long  chapter — that 
bore  her  name. 

THE   END 


THE  COME  ON 


THE  COME  ON 

"Fair  fellow,  said  Sir  Ector,  knowest  thou  not 
in  this  country  any  adventures  that  be  here  nigh 
hand?  Sir,  said  the  forester,  ,  .  .  strike  upon 
that  basin  with  the  butt  of  thy  spear  thrice,  and 
soon  after  thou  shall  hear  new  tidings,  and  else  hast 
thou  the  fairest  grace  that  many  a  year  had  ever 
knight  that  passed  through  this  forest.  .  .  .  Then 
anon  Sir  Ector  beat  on  the  basin  as  he  were  wood.'' 

Chapter  I 
"Ah,  take  the  Cash,  and  let  the  Credit  ffof' 

STEVE  THOMPSON  had  sold  his  cat 
tle.  El  Paso  is  (was)  the  Monte  Car 
lo  of  America.  Therefore — The  syllogism 
may  be  imperfectly  stated,  but  the  conclu 
sion  is  sound.  Perhaps  there  is  a  premise 
suppressed  or  overlooked  somewhere. 

Cash  in  hand,  well  fortified  with  paving 
material,  Thompson  descended  on  the  Gate 
153 


154  The  Come  On 

City.  At  the  expiration  of  thirty-six  blame 
less  hours  he  perceived  that  he  was  looking 
through  a  glass  darkly,  in  the  Business 
Man's  Club,  intently  regarding  a  neatly-let 
tered  placard  which  ambiguously  advised 
all  concerned  in  this  wise: 

IF  DRINKING  INTERFERES 

WITH  YOUR  BUSINESS, 

STOP  IT. 

A  back-room  door  was  opened.  A  burst 
of  merriment  smote  across  the  loneliness.  A" 
head  appeared.  The  tip  of  its  nose  quiv 
ered. 

"Hey,  old-timer!  Will  you  walk  into  my 
parlor?"  it  jeered. 

Steve  walked  over  with  dignity  and  firmly 
closed  the  door,  closing  it,  through  sheer 
inadvertence,  from  the  inside.  A  shout  of 
welcome  greeted  him. 

With  one  exception — the  Transient — they 


The  Come  On 

were  all  old  friends;  the  Stockman,  the 
Judge,  alike  darkly  attractive;  the  supple- 
handed  Merchant,  with  curly  hair  and  nose; 
and  the  strong  quiet  figure  of  the  Eminent 
Person.  A  wight  of  high  renown  and  na 
tional,  this  last,  who  had  attained  to  his 
present  bad  Eminence  through  superior 
longevity.  As  he  was  still  in  the  prime  of 
life,  it  should  perhaps  be  explained  that  his 
longevity  was  purely  comparative,  as  con 
trasted  with  that  of  a  number  of  gentlemen, 
eminent  in  the  same  line,  who  had  been  a 
trifle  dilatory  at  critical  moments,  to  them 
final. 

The  Merchant,  sometime  Banker-by-night, 
as  now,  began  evening  up  chip-stacks. 
"How  much?"  he  queried.  The  Judge  and 
the  Eminent  Person  hitched  along  to  make 
room  between  them. 

"I'm  not  playing  to-night,"  Steve  began. 


156  The  Come  On 

He  was  cut  short  by  a  torrent  of  scoffing 
advice  and  information. 

"Only  one  hundred  to  come  in— -all  you 
got  to  get  out." 

"Another  victim !" 

"Bet  'em  high  and  sleep  in  the  streets!" 

"Table  stakes.  Cuter  goes  for  aces  and 
flushes." 

"Just  give  us  what  you  can  spare  handy 
and  go  to  bed.  You'll  save  money  and 
sleep." 

"Straight  flush  the  best  hand.'* 

"All  ties  go  to  the  sweaters." 

"A  man  and  his  money  are  soon  parted!" 

"You  play  the  first  hand  for  fun,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  night  to  get  even !"  Thus, 
and  more  also,  the  Five  in  hilarious  chorus. 

"Any  man  caught  bluffing  loses  the  pot," 
added  the  Eminent  Person,  gravely  admoni 
tory.  "And  a  Lalla-Cooler  can  only  be 
played  once  a  night." 


The  Come  On  1157 

"Nary  a  play  play  I,"  said  Steve  aggriev- 
edly.  "I  stole  just  one  measly  horse  and 
every  one's  called  me  a  horse-thief  ever 
since.  But  I've  played  poker,  lo!  these 
many  years,  and  no  one  ever  called  me  a 
gambler  once.  The  best  I  get  is,  'Clear  out, 
you  blamed  sucker.  Come  back  when  you 
grow  a  new  fleece!'  and  when  I  get  home 
the  wind  moans  down  the  chimney, 
'O-o-o-gh-h !  wha-a-t  have  you  do-o-one  with 
your  summer's  w-a-A-a-ges!" 

"Aw,  sit  down — you're  delay  in*  the 
game,"  said  the  Stockman.  The  Banker 
shoved  over  three  stacks  of  patriotically  as 
sorted  colors  and  made  a  memorandum. 
The  Five  howled  mockery  and  derision,  the 
cards  danced  and  beckoned  luringly  in  the 
mellow  lamplight,  the  Judge  pulled  his  coat- 
tail,  the  Major  Premise  tugged.  Steve  sat 
down,  pulling  his  sombrero  over  his  eyes. 

"He  that  runneth  after  fools  shall  have 


•158  The  Come  On 

property  enough,"  he  quoted  inaccurately. 
"I'll  have  some  of  your  black  hides  on  the 
fence  by  morning." 

The  cards  running  to  him,  it  was  not  long 
before  Steve  doubled  his  "come-in"  several 
times  on  quite  ordinary  hands,  largely  be 
cause  his  capital  was  so  small  that  he  could 
not  be  bluffed  out.  The  betting  was  fierce 
and  furious.  Steve,  "on  velvet,"  played 
brilliantly.  But  he  was  in  fast  company — 
too  fast  for  his  modest  means.  The  Tran 
sient  seemed  to  have  a  bottomless  purse. 
The  Stockman  had  cattle  on  a  thousand 
hills,  the  Merchant  habitually  sold  goods  at 
cost. 

As  for  the  Judge — his  fine  Italian  hand 
was  distinctly  traceable  in  the  frenzied  re 
plies  to  frenzied  attacks  upon  certain  fren 
zied  financial  transactions  of  his  chief,  a 
frenzied  but  by  no  means  verdant  copper 
magnate,  to  whom  he,  the  Judge,  was  Pro- 


The  Come  On  159 

cureur-General,  adviser  legal  and  otherwise. 
The  Judge  took  no  thought  for  the  morrow, 
unless  his  frequently  expressed  resolve  not 
to  go  home  till  that  date  may  be  so  re 
garded. 

The  Eminent  Person,  a  Republican  for 
Revenue  Only,  had  been  awarded  a  remu 
nerative  Federal  position  as  a  tribute  to  his 
ambidextrous  versatility  in  the  life  strenu 
ous,  and  his  known  prowess  as  a  "Stand- 
Patter." 

Upon  all  these  things  Steve  reflected. 
With  caution,  some  caution,  and  again  cau 
tion,  a  goodly  sum  might  well  be  abstracted 
from  these  reckless  and  capricious  persons; 
provided  always  that  he  had  money  on  the 
table  to  play  a  good  hand  for  what  it  was 
worth. 

For  long  his  luck  held  good.  Having  in 
creased  his  gains  manyfold,  he  was  (being 
quite  a  natural  person)  naturally  incensed 


160  The  Come  On 

that  they  were  not  more.  Yielding  to  his 
half-formed  resolve,  he  dug  up  his  herd 
of  cattle  and  put  them  on  the  table.  "I  am 
now  prepared  to  grab  old  Opportunity  by 
the  scalp-lock,"  he  announced. 

He  played  on  with  varying  success.  Pres 
ently,  holding  aces  up,  and  being  persistently 
crosslifted  by  the  Eminent  One  and  the 
Judge,  after  a  one-card  draw  all  around,  he 
became  obsessed  with  the  fixed  idea  that 
they  were  both  bluffing  and  afraid  to  show 
down.  When  this  delusion  was  dispelled, 
he  noted  with  chagrin  that  the  spoils  of 
Egypt  had  departed,  taking  with  them  some 
plenty  of  real  money. 

That  was  the  turning-point.  By  midnight 
he  was  hoarse  with  repeating,  parrot-wise, 
"That's  good — give  me  another  stack."  His 
persistent  losses  won  him  sympathy,  even 
from  these  hardened  plungers. 

"Bad  luck,   old  man — sure!"   purred  the 


The  Come  On  161 

consolatory  Stockman,  raking  the  pot.  "I 
drawed  out  on  you.  Sometimes  the  cards 
run  against  a  fellow  a  long  time,  that  way, 
and  then  turn  right  around  and  get  worse." 

"Don't  you  worry  about  me,"  retorted 
Steve.  "You're  liable  to  go  home  talking  to 
yourself,  yet,  if  the  cards  break  even." 

In  the  early  stages  of  the  game  Steve 
had  been  nervous  and  restless  from  the  fever 
in  his  blood.  Now  he  was  smiling,  easy,  se 
rene,  his  mind  working  smoothly,  like  a  well- 
oiled  machine.  Collecting  all  his  forces, 
counting  the  chances  coolly,  he  played  a 
steady,  consistent  game. 

The  reckless  plunging  ceased  so  far  as  it 
was  against  him.  The  others,  for  most  part, 
merely  called  his  tentative  bets  with  wary 
respect.  Men  of  his  type  are  never  so  for 
midable  as  in  defeat.  Things  had  come  to 
such  a  pass  that  many  good  hands  netted 
him  little  or  nothing.  Then  came  a  rally; 


li  62  The  Come  On 

his  pile  crept  slowly  up  until  he  was  nearly 
even. 

With  twenty  dollars  each  in  a  jackpot,  the 
Eminent  Person  dealing,  the  Stockman  mod 
estly  opened  for  two  hundred.  The  Tran 
sient  stayed,  as  did  the  Merchant  and  the 
Judge,  the  latter  mildly  stating  that  he  would 
lie  low  and  let  some  one  else  play  his  hand. 
Steve  stayed. 

"Happy  as  the  dealer  in  a  big  jackpot," 
warbled  the  Eminent  Person.  "And  now 
we  will  take  an  observation."  He  scruti 
nized  his  cards,  contributed  his  quota,  and 
raised  for  double  the  amount.  "I'll  just 
play  the  Judge's  hand  for  him,"  he  re 
marked  blandly.  The  Stockman  cheerfully 
re-raised  five  hundred. 

The  Transient,  momentarily  low  in  funds, 
stayed  for  all  he  had  before  him.  "I've  got 
a  show  for  this  much,"  he  said,  pushing  back 
the  side  money.  "And  a  pretty  good  one. 


The  Come  On  163 

Bet  your  fool  heads  off !  YouVe  got  to  beat 
a  hectic  flush  to  finger  this  pot!" 

The  Merchant  laid  down  three  sevens,  of 
diamonds,  spades  and  clubs.  "Any  one  got 
the  seven  of  hearts  ?"  he  wondered.  The 
Judge  called.  Steve,  squeezing  his  hand 
carefully,  drew  out  the  seven  of  hearts, 
flashed  it  at  the  Merchant,  replaced  it,  and 
stayed. 

The  Eminent  Person,  after  due  consider 
ation,  saw  the  five  hundred  and  raised  it  to 
a  thousand.  "To  dissuade  you  all  from 
drawing  out  on  me,"  he  explained,  stroking 
his  mustache  with  deliberate  care. 

The  Stockman  called  without  comment. 
The  Judge  hesitated,  swore  ferociously,  and 
finally  called. 

Steve  squeezed  his  cards  with  both 
hands  for  a  final  corroborative  inspection, 
scratched  his  head  and  rolled  his  eye  sol 
emnly  around  the  festal  board. 


164  The  Come  On 

"Eleven  hundred  dollars  of  my  good  coin 
in  there  now,  and  here  I  sit  between  the 
devil  and  the  deep,  blue  sea.  One  thousand 
bucks.  Much  money.  Ugh !  One  thousand 
days,  each  day  of  twenty-four  golden  hours 
set  with  twenty  near-diamond  minutes  1  Well  I 
I  sure  hate  to  give  you  fellows  this  good 
gold." 

"Steve's  got  one  of  them  things!"  sur 
mised  the  Stockman. 

"A  fellow  does  hate  to  lay  down  a  bob 
tail  straight  flush  when  there's  such  a  chance 
for  action  if  he  fills,"  chimed  in  the  Emi 
nent  dealer. 

"It's  face  up,  Steve.  You'd  just  as  well 
show  us.  My  boy,  you  ought  to  wear  a 
mustache,"  said  the  Judge,  critically.  "Your 
lips  get  pale  and  give  you  away  when  you 
try  to  screw  your  courage  up.  Of  course, 
you've  got  a  sweet,  little,  rosebud  mouth; 


The  Come  On  165 

but  you  need  a  big,  ox-horn  mustache  in  this 


vocation." 


"Don't  show  it,  Steve,"  advised  the  Stock 
man.  "I  judge  his  Honor's  got  one  of  them 
same  things  his  black  self.  You  might  both 
fill — and  you  don't  want  to  let  him  see  how 
high  yours  is." 

"If  I  only  don't  fill  the  wrong  way,"  said 
Steve.  "Want  to  split  the  pot  or  save  stakes 
with  me,  Judge?" 

"That  would  be  a  foolish  caper.  If  I  fill 
— I  mean,"  the  Judge  corrected  himself  has 
tily — "I  mean,  I've  got  the  money  won  now, 
unless  you  draw  out,  and  that's  a  52  to  i 
shot." 

"Me,  too,"  said  the  dealer.  "We  both 
got  it  won.  But  I'll  save  out  a  hundred 
with  you,  Steve.  That'll  pay  your  bills  and 
take  you  home." 

"That'll  be  nine  hundred  to  draw  cards 
for  a  chance  at  nine  thousand  and  action  on 


1 66  The  Come  On 

what  I  got  left.  Faint  heart  never  won  a 
jackpot  Here  goes  nothin' !"  said  Steve, 
pushing  the  money  in.  "One  from  the  top, 
when  you  get  to  me.  If  I  bet  after  the 
draw,  you  all  needn't  call  unless  you're  a 
mind  to." 

"Got  that  side  money  and  pot  straight?" 
queried  the  dealer  lightly.  "All  right?"  He 
stretched  out  a  long  left  arm  and  flipped  the 
cards  from  the  pack  with  a  jerk  of  the  wrist. 
"Cards  and  spades?  (Tin  pat,  myself,  of 
course.)  Cards  to  you?  None?  Certainly. 
None  to  you,  and  one  to  you,  one  to  you, 
none " 

Steve's  card,  spinning  round  as  it  came, 
turned  over  and  lay  face  up  on  the  table — 
the  three  of  hearts.  (Laymen  will  please 
recall  that,  as  already  specified,  a  straight 
flush  was,  in  this  game,  the  Best.)  As  the 
dealer  was  sliding  the  next  card  off  to  re- 


The  Come  On  167 

place  it,  Steve  caught  the  thin  glint  of  a  red 
8  on  the  corner. 

With  a  motion  inconceivably  swift  he  was 
on  his  feet,  his  left  hand  over  the  pack. 
"Hold  on  I"  he  cried.  "Look  at  this  !"  He 
made  a  motion  as  if  to  spread  out  the  four 
cards  he  had  retained,  checked  himself  and 
glared,  crouching. 

"Sit  down,  Steve.  Don't  be  a  fool,"  said 
the  Stockman.  "You  know  you've  no  right 
to  an  exposed  card,  and  you  know  he  didn't 
go  to  do  it." 

Steve  bunched  his  four  cards  carefully  and 
laid  them  on  the  table,  face  down.  "Cer 
tainly  not.  Oh,  no !  He  didn't  go  to  do  it. 
But  he  did  it,  just  the  same,"  he  said  bitter 
ly.  "Now,  look  here!  I  don't  think  there's 
anything  wrong — not  for  a  minute.  Noth 
ing  worse'n  dumb,  idiotic  thumb-hand-sided- 
ness.  I  specially  don't  want  no  one  else  to 
get  mixed  up  in  this,"  with  a  glance  at  the 


1 68  The  Come  On 

Stockman.  "So  you  and  the  Judge  needn't 
feel  called  upon  to  act  as  seconds.  But  I'm 
vexed.  I'm  vexed  just  about  nine  thousand 
dollars'  worth,  likely  much  more,  if  my  hand 
hadn't  been  tipped.  Mira!"  addressing  the 
dealer,  who  sat  quietly  holding  the  pack  in 
his  left  hand,  his  right  resting  on  the  table. 
"I've  a  right  to  call  for  my  card  turned  up, 
haven't  I  ?" 

"Sure  thing,"  said  the  dealer  equably. 

"All  right,  then.  One  bad  turn  deserves 
another.  But — plenty  cuidado!  If  any  card 
but  the  eight  of  hearts  turns  up,  protect 
yourself,  or  somebody's  widow'll  be  in  a  po 
sition  to  collect  life  insurance,  and  I  ain't 
married!  Turn  her  over."  He  leaned 
lightly  on  the  table  with  both  hands.  Their 
eyes  met  in  a  level  gaze. 

"Let  her  zip!"  said  the  Eminent  Person. 
Without  hesitation  he  dropped  the  card  over. 
No  slightest  motion  from  either  man,  no  re- 


The  Come  On  169 

laxing  of  those  interlocked  eyes.  A  catch 
ing  of  breaths 

"The  eight  of  hearts!"  This  in  concert 
by  the  quartette  of  undisinterested  witnesses. 

The  two  Principals  looked  down,  then. 
That  the  Eminent  Person's  free  hand  had 
remained  passive  throughout  bore  eloquent 
testimony  to  nerve  and  integrity  alike.  Nev 
ertheless,  he  now  ran  that  hand  slowly 
through  his  hair  and  wiped  his  forehead. 
"That  was  one  long  five  seconds — most  a 
week,  I  guess.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a 
plumb  dam-fool  break  in  your  whole  life?" 
he  said,  appealingly,  to  the  crowd. 

"I  guess,"  said  Steve  sagely,  pushing  the 
eight-spot  in  with  his  other  cards — "I  guess 
if  you'd  separated  from  a  thousand  big 
round  dollars  to  draw  a  card  and  then  got  it 
turned  over,  you  wouldn't  have  cared  a 
whoop  if  your  left  eye  was  out,  either.  It  is 


170  The  Come  On 

v/arm,  ain't  it?"     He  sat  down  with  a  sigh 
of  relief. 

The  Stockman  bunched  his  cards  idly  and 
tapped  the  table  with  them.  The  Judge 
was  casually  examining  the  chandelier  with 
interest  and  approval.  Presently,  he  looked 
down  and  around. 

"Oh,  thunder!  What  are  you  waiting 
for,  Thompson?  I  pass,  of  course !"  he  said 
testily. 

Steve  shoved  in  his  pile.  "As  I  men 
tioned  a  while  ago,  you're  not  obliged  to  call 
this,"  he  said  demurely.  "Just  suit  your 
selves." 

One  card  at  a  time,  with  thumb  and  fore 
finger,  the  Eminent  Person  turned  over  his 
hand  with  careful  adjustment  and  alignment. 
After  much  delay,  he  symmetrically  ar 
ranged  an  Ace-full,  face  up,  and  regarded  it 
with  profound  attention. 

"That  was  a  right  good-looking  hand,  too 


Tne  Come  On  171 

—before  the  draw,"  he  remarked  at  last, 
sweeping  them  into  the  discard. 

"Ye-es,"  assented  the  Stockman,  mildly 
dubious.  "It  might  have  taken  second  mon 
ey — maybe."  He  tossed  in  four  deuces. 

The  Transient  spread  out  a  club  flush. 
"Do  you  know?"  he  said  confidentially — "do 
you  know,  I  was  actually  glad  to  see  that 
hand  when  I  first  picked  it  up?" 

"Won't  you  fellows  never  learn  to  play 
poker?"  said  the  Judge  severely.  "Why 
don't  you  stay  out  till  you  get  something?" 
He  laid  his  hand  down.  "Four  tens  and 
most  five !  The  Curse  of  Scotland  and  For 
ty  Miles  of  Railroad!  For-ty  miles,  before 
the  draw — and  gone  into  the  hands  of  a  de 
ceiver!" 

"Oh!"  Leaning  over,  Steve  touched  the 
ten  of  spades  lightly.  "So  that's  why  I 
couldn't  fill  my  hand!"  he  remarked  inno 
cently. 


172  The  Come  On 

"Get  outl"  snorted  the  Judge.  "No  use 
throwing  good  money  after  bad.  I  wouldn't 
call  you,  not  if  I  had  five  tens !" 

He  slammed  in  his  hand.  The  Eminent 
Person  thoughtfully  took  out  the  hundred 
he  had  saved.  "Some  one  press  the  button, 
and  I'll  do  the  rest,"  said  Steve.  He  re 
moved  the  side-money,  placidly  ignoring  the 
"pot"  of  some  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  for 
which  the  Transient,  having  his  money  all 
in,  was  entitled  to  a  showdown. 

The  Transient's  jaw  dropped  in  unaffected 
amazement.  Dealer  and  Stockman  drummed 
their  fingers  on  the  table  unconcernedly.  And 
the  Judge  saw  a  great  light. 

"You,  Thompson!"  he  roared.  "Turn 
over  that  hand !  I  feel  that  you  have  treat 
ed  this  Court  with  the  greatest  contempti- 
bility!"  He  pawed  the  discard  with  fran 
tic  haste,  producing  the  seven  of  hearts. 


The  Come  On  173 

"Why,  you  pink-cheeked,  dewy-eyed  catama 
ran!  What have  you  got,  anyway?'* 

"Why,  Judge,"  said  Steve  earnestly,  "I've 
got  a  strong  case  of  circumstantial  evidence." 
He  turned  over  the  eight  of  hearts;  then, 
after  a  pause,  the  ace,  king,  queen  and  jack 
of  spades;  and  resumed  the  stacking  of  his 
chips.  "I  discarded  that  seven  of  hearts," 
he  said,  smiling  at  the  Merchant. 

A  howl  of  joyous  admiration  went  up;  the 
Transient  raked  in  the  pot. 

"The  Crime  of  the  Century!"  bellowed 
the  Judge.  "I'm  the  victim  of  the  Accom 
plished  Fact!  Cash  my  checks!  I'm  going 
to  join  the  Ladies'  Aid!" 

"Aw,  shut  up,"  gasped  the  Transient. 
"No  sleep  till  morn  where  youth  and  booty 
meetsh!  Give  ush  'nother  deck!" 

But  Steve,  having  stacked  his  chips,  fold 
ed  the  bills  and  put  them  in  his  pocket. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,   you   old 


174  The  Come  On 

fool?"   demanded  the   Eminent  Person  af 
fectionately.     "You  can't  quit  now." 

Steve  rose,  bowing  to  right  and  left, 
spreading  his  hand  over  his  heart.  "Deeply 
as  I  regret  and,  as  I  might  say,  deplore,  to 
quit  a  good  easy  game,"  he  declaimed,  "I 
must  now  remove  myself  from  your  big 
midst.  For  a  Lalla-Cooler  can  only  be 
played  once  in  one  night.  Besides,  I've  al 
ways  heard  that  no  man  ever  quit  ahead  of 
the  game,  and  I'm  going  to  prove  the  rule. 
I  will  never  play  another  card,  never  no 
more!" 

"What — not  in  your  whole  life?"  said  the 
Stockman,  chin  on  hand,  raising  his  eye 
brows  at  the  last  word. 

"Oh — in  my  whole  life!"  admitted  Steve. 
He  drew  a  dollar  from  his  pocket,  balanced 
it  on  his  thumb,  and  continued:  "We  will 
now  invoke  the  arbitrament  of  chance  to  de 
cide  the  destinies  of  nations.  Heads,  I  or- 


The  Come  On  175 

der  an  assortment  of  vines  and  fig  trees,  go 
back  to  the  Jornado  and  become  a  cattle- 
king.  Tails,  I  proceed  to  New-York-on-the- 
Hudson,  by  the  Ess-Pee  at  3:15  this  A.  M. 
presently,  and  arouse  that  somnolent  city 
from  its  Rip  Van  Winkle." 

The  coin  went  spinning  to  the  ceiling. 
"Tails!"  said  the  Merchant,  picking  it  up. 
"I  must  warn  my  friends  on  Wall  Street. 
Hello!  this  is  a  bad  dollar!" 

"I'll  keep  it  for  a  souvenir  of  the  joyful 
occasion,"  said  Steve.  "Just  one  more  now, 
and  we'll  all  go  home!" 

"Hold  on,  you  abandoned  profligate!" 
said  the  Judge.  "You  don't  know  any  one 
in  the  Big  Burgh,  do  you?  Thought  not. 
Without  there !  Ho,  varlet !"  He  thumped 
on  the  table,  demanding  writing  materials. 
"I'll  fix  you  out.  Give  you  a  letter  to  a  firm 
of  mining  experts  I'm  in  touch  with." 

After  an  interval  devoted  to  refreshments, 


176  The  Come  On 

the  Judge  read  with  all  the  pride  of  author 
ship: 

Messrs.  Atwood,  Strange  &  Atwood, 
25  Broad  Street,  New  York  City. 
Gentlemen: 

This  will  introduce  to  you  Mr.  Stephen 
Thompson,  of  Dundee,  New  Mexico.  You 
will  kindly  consider  yourself  in  loco  parentis 
to  him,  charging  same  to  my  account. 

On  presentation  of  this  letter,  please  pay 
Mr.  Thompson's  fine  or  go  his  bail,  as  the 
case  may  be,  furnish  him  with  pocket-money 
and  a  ticket  home,  and  see  him  safely  on  the 
right  train. 

Should  the  matter  be  more  serious,  wire  me 
at  once.  Periodical  insanity  can  be  readily 
proved.  He  has  just  recovered  from  a 
paroxysm  at  this  writing.  He  is  subject  to 
these  attacks  whenever  his  wishes  are 
crossed,  having  been  raised  a  pet.  There- 


The  Come  On  ;i77 

fore,  you  will  be  doing  yourself  a  great  fa 
vor  by  acceding  to  any  request  he  may  make, 
however  unreasonable  it  may  seem.  It  is 
unlucky  to  oppose  or  thwart  him;  but  he  is 
amenable  to  kindness.  Kindly  apprize  mu 
nicipal  and  Federal  authorities  for  the  pres 
ervation  of  public  safety.  tYour  loss  is  our 
eternal  gain. 

During  the  ensuing  applause  he  signed 
this  production.  Steve  pocketed  it  gravely. 
"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "When  I  get  down, 
to  husks  I'll  look  up  my  locoed  parent." 

"The  Bird  of  Time,"  said  the  Transient 
vociferously,  "hash  but  a  little  way  to  flutter.; 
Cash  inl  The  bird  ish  on  the  wing!  To- 
morro'sh  tangle  to  the  winds  reshign.  Come, 
all  ye  midnight  roish-roishterers !  A  few 
more  kindly  cupsh  for  Auld  Lang  Shine. 
Then  let  ush  eshcort  thish  highwayman  to 


178  The  Come  On 

the  gatesh  of  the  city  and  cash  him  forth  to 
outer  darknesh!     Let  ush  shing! 


/  stood  on  a  flush  at  midnight, 

When   my   money  was  nearly  gone, 

And  two  moonsh  rosh  over  the  city 

Where  there  shouldn't  have  been  but  one. 


In  Ohio,  one  of  rough  appearance,  clad  in 
a  fire-new,  ready-made  suit,  began  to  per 
vade  Thompson's  car;  restlessly  rushing 
from  one  side  to  the  other  in  conscientious 
effort  to  see  all  there  was  to  be  seen ;  finally 
taking  to  the  vestibule  as  affording  better 
conveniences  for  observations.  He  was, 
however,  not  so  absorbed  in  the  scenery  but 
that  he  took  sharp  note  of  the  cowboy's  un 
sophisticated  garb  and  guileless  mien.  Later, 
when  Steve  went  into  the  smoker,  he  struck 
up  acquaintance  with  him;  initiated  by  the 
mere  demand  for  a  light,  continued  through 


The  Come  On  [179 

community  of  interest,  as  both  being  evi 
dently  non-urban. 

A  voluble  and  open-hearted  person,  the 
stranger,  displaying  much  specie  during  their 
not  infrequent  visits  to  the  buffet  for  refresh 
ment  of  the  jocund  grape,  where  they  vied 
with  each  other  in  liberality,  and  one  who 
nai'vely  imparted  his  private  history  without 
reticence.  A  lumberman,  who  had  risen 
from  the  ranks;  a  Non-Com.  of  Industry, 
so  to  speak,  who,  having  made  his  pile,  was 
now,  impelled  by  filial  piety,  revisiting 
his  old  New  England  Home. 

This  touching  confidence  so  ingratiated 
the  bluff  and  hearty  son  of  toil  to  the  un 
suspicious  cowboy,  that  he,  in  turn,  began 
to  ooze  information  at  every  pore.  Steve 
Thompson  was  his  name;  miner  of  Butte, 
Montana.  He  had,  after  years  of  struggle 
and  defeat,  made  a  lucky  strike.  He  had 
bonded  his  mine  to  New  York  parties — the 


ii8o  The  Come  On 

Copper-bottom,  just  to  the  left  of  the  High 
Line  Trail  from  Anaconda  to  Philipsburgh ; 
receiving  $10,000  down  for  a  quarter  inter 
est,  giving  option  on  two-thirds  remainder 
for  $50,000,  if,  after  six  months'  develop 
ment  work,  the  mine  justified  its  promise.  It 
had  proved  all  his  fancy  painted  it;  he  was 
on  his  way  to  the  big  town,  to  be  paid  the 
balance  on  the  sixteenth,  at  the  office  of — 
where  is  that  letter?  Oh,  yes,  here  it  is — 
"Atwood,  Strange  &  Atwood,  25  Broad  St." 
— retaining  a  one-fourth  interest.  He  was 
going  to  see  the  sights.  Possibly  he  would 
take  a  trip  round  the  world. 

Incited  by  judicious  interest  of  his  auditor, 
he  prattled  on  and  on,  till  the  lumberman — 
(Dick  Barton,  the  name  of  him) — was  pos 
sessed  with  the  salient  points  of  his  past, 
present  and  future;  embellished  by  a  flood 
of  detail  and  personal  reminiscence.  It  is  to 
be  regretted  that  the  main  points  were  inao 


The  Come  On  181 

curate  and  apocryphal,  the  collateral  details 
gratuitous  improvisations,  introduced  for  the 
sake  of  local  color. 

"For,"  Steve  reasoned,  "evidently  this 
party  is  a  seeker  after  knowledge;  it  is  bet 
ter  to  siphon  than  to  be  pumped.  Doubtless 
it  will  be  as  bread  upon  the  waters." 

Freely  did  he  gush  and  freely  buy — (the 
bulk  of  his  money,  in  large  bills,  was  safely 
wadded  at  the  bottom  of  the  six-shooter 
^cabbard  under  his  arm,  his  .45  on  guard — 
but  his  well-filled  billhook  was  much  in  evi 
dence).  So  thoroughly  charmed  was  Barton 
that  he  lamented  loud  and  long  that  he  and 
his  new  acquaintance  might  not  have  their 
first  view  of  the  metropolis  in  company.  But 
he  had  promised  his  aged  parents  to  come 
to  them  directly,  by  way  of  Albany.  How 
ever,  he  was  a  day  ahead  of  his  schedule; 
neither  of  them  had  seen  Niagara;  if 
Thompson  would  excuse  him,  he  would  write 


1 82  The  Come  On 

his  father,  that  the  letter  would  go  on  to 
herald  the  hour  of  his  coming.  Then  they 
both  would  take  one  day's  lay-over  at  Buf 
falo,  visiting  the  famous  cataract  entirely  at 
his,  Barton's,  expense.  Thence,  exchanging 
addresses,  on  their  respective  ways,  to  meet 
in  Manhattan  later.  To  which  Thompson 
agreed  with  cordiality. 

The  letter  Barton  mailed  at  Buffalo  was 
addressed: 

J.  F.  MITCHELL 

Binghamton 
The  Arlington  N.  Y. 


Chapter  II 

"A  goodly,  portly  man,  £.  faith,  and  ct  corpulent: 
of  a  cheerful  look,  a  pleasing  eye,  and  a  most  noble 
carriage;  and,  as  I  think,  his  age  some  fifty,  or  by'r 
lady,  inclining  to  three  score" 

IT  had  been  a  good  morning,  thought 
Mendenhall.  If  only  more  citizens  like 
this  big,  talkative,  prosperous  looking 
stranger  would  settle  in  Elmsdale!  Over  a 
thousand  dollars'  worth  in  one  bill — not  bad, 
that,  for  a  little  rural  New  York  town. 
Moreover,  the  stranger  had  evinced  a  taste 
in  his  selection  of  furniture  and  carpets 
scarcely  to  be  expected  from  his  slightly 
overdressed  appearance  and  his  loud,  domi 
nating  talk.  His  choice  had  been  always 
swift  and  certain,  wholly  unaffected  by 
prices.  Obviously,  a  self-made  man,  with  a 
long  purse,  this. 

183 


184  The  Come  On 

The  big  man  threw  up  his  hands  in  mock 
surrender.  'Time— King's  X— 'nuff!"  he 
bellowed,  a  pervading  and  infectious  smile 
spreading  over  his  broad,  jovial,  smooth- 
shaven  face.  "Police!  Nine — eleven — 
twelve  hundred,  sixty-eight.  I'll  pay  you 
a  hundred  to  bind  the — No,  I'll  just  pay 
you  now  and  have  done  with  it.  Don't 
want  the  stuff  delivered  till  some  time  next 
week,  though.  Wife'll  run  up  to-morrow 
or  next  day  to  take  her  choice  of  the  two 
houses  I've  been  looking  at.  Then,  paper- 
hanging,  mantels,  plumbing  and  all  that — 
Make  it  even  twelve-fifty?"  he  demanded, 
pen  poised  in  a  plump,  white  hand,  eying 
the  dealer  with  shrewd  expectancy. 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  Mendenhall  mur 
mured,  rubbing  his  hands  with  a  thought  of 
future  custom. 

Scratch-tch-ch !  The  check  was  made  out 
with  a  flourish.  "Here  you  are.  I'll  come 


The  Come  On  185 

round  when  I'm  ready  and  tell  you  where 
to  send  the  stuff.  By  the  way,  where  do 
you  bank?  Want  to  send  in  checks  for 
collection." 

"At  the  Farmers1  and  Citizens',  mostly. 
The  First  National  is  right  around  the  cor 
ner,  first  turn  to  your  left.  Thank  you  very 
much,  Mr." — he  glanced  at  the  check — 
"Mr.  Britt— Mr.  N.  C.  Britt.  I  hope  for 
the  pleasure  of  your  better  acquaintance, 
Mr.  Britt." 

"Oh,  you  will!"  laughed  Britt.  "Nice 
little  town,  here.  If  I  like  it  as  well  a  year 
from  now  as  I  do  to-day  I'll  stick!.  Time 
for  an  old  fellow  like  me  to  settle  down. 
I've  worked  hard  all  my  life.  But  I've  got 
enough.  What's  the  good  of  more?  No 
dying  in  the  harness  for  mine.  I  want  to 
retire,  as  they  call  it,  and  let  the  young 
bucks  do  the  work." 

"Oh,  you're  not  an  old  man,"  protested 


1 86  The  Come  On 

Mendenhall  with  reason.  "Your  amazing 

vitality — your  energetic "  Britt  pulled 

at  his  luxuriant  white  hair. 

"Oh,  good  enough  for  an  old  has-been!" 
He  laughed  with  pardonable  vanity. 
"Pretty  hearty  yet,  owing  to  having  lived 
a  clean  and  wholesome  life,  thank  God;  but 
aging,  sir — aging.  'The  evil  days  draw 
nigh  F  '  He  shook  his  head  with  a  sober 
air,  which  at  once  gave  way  to  the  satis 
fied  smile  habitual  on  his  round,  contented 
face.  Briskly,  he  consulted  a  heavy  gold 
repeater,  replacing  it  with  the  quick  move 
ment  of  one  to  whom  seconds  are  valuable. 
"Well,  well!  Twelve-thirty!  Been  here 
all  morning,  picking  and  choosing!  Take 
luncheon  with  me?  No?  All  right — see 
you  later!'*  He  swung  out  through  the 
door. 

Turning  the  corner,  he  crossed  the  street 
to  the  First  National,  bounced  in  and  pre- 


The  Come  On  187 

sented  himself  at  the  teller's  window,  light 
ing  a  cigar,  puffing  like  a  tugboat.  "To 
open  a  small  account — two  of  'em.  Checks 
for  collection,"  he  announced.  Tone  and 
manner  were  breezily  self-assertive;  the 
president,  from  his  desk,  turned  and  looked. 
He  indorsed,  blotting  with  a  swift  dab,  and 
a  final  fillip  through  the  window.  "Chi 
cago,  thirty-three  hundred — credit  to  Britt 
&  Stratton.  Here's  our  signature.  Den 
ver,  eight  hundred,  to  private  account  H.  E. 
Stratton.  He'll  be  here  next  week.  I'll 
bring  him  around  and  identify.  Draw  on 
this  by  Wednesday?  Good!  Gimme  check 
book.  Excuse  haste;  yours  truly!"  He 
popped  out. 

The  president  smiled.  "An  original 
character,  apparently,"  he  said.  "He 
doesn't  aim  to  let  grass  grow  under  his 
feet." 


1 88  The  Come  On 

Between  two  and  three  Britt  bustled  into 
Mendenhall's,  making  for  the  office. 

"Oh,  I  say!"  he  puffed,  as  Mendenhall 
rose.  "Banked  that  check  yet?" 

"Not  yet,"  replied  the  other  sedately. 
"It  is  our  custom  to  send  the  day's  checks 
for  deposit  just  before  three.  Nothing 
wrong,  I  trust?" 

Britt  dropped  into  a  chair,  mopping  his 
face.  "Oh,  no,  nothing  wrong;  but  I'm 
afraid  I've  made  a  little  mistake.  I'm  not 
a  good  business  man — not  systematic — • 
though  I  worry  along.  Like  the  young 
wife's  bookkeeping — 'Received  fifty  dol 
lars  from  John — spent  it  all.'  Fact  is,  I 
never  entirely  got  over  the  days  when  a 
very  short  memory  was  enough  to  keep 
track  of  all  my  transactions.  Always  for 
getting  to  fill  out  my  stubs,"  he  explained. 
"So  I  don't  remember  what  bank  I  checked 
on.  But  I'm  pretty  sure  'twas  the  Com- 


The  Come  On  189 

mercial,  and  my  balance  there  is  low — not 
enough  to  cover  your  bill,  I'm  thinking." 
He  leaned  back,  his  portly  sides  shaking 
with  merriment  "By  Jove!"  he  roared. 
"It  would  have  been  a  good  joke  on  me  if 
I  hadn't  remembered.  Nice  introduction  to 
a  town  where  I  expect  to  make  my  home. 
Oh,  well,  even  so,  you  had  the  furniture 
safe  in  your  warehouse.  Guess  you 
wouldn't  have  been  much  scared,  eh?"  He 
poked  Mendenhall  playfully  with  a  stubby 
finger.  "Well,  let's  see  about  it." 

Secretly,  the  other  resented  the  familiar 
ity,  deprecated  the  boisterous  publicity  with 
which  the  stranger  saw  fit  to  do  business. 
Business,  with  Mendenhall,  was  a  matter 
for  dignified  and  strictly  private  conference. 
With  stately  precision  he  took  up  the  neat 
bundle  of  checks  which  he  had  just  indorsed, 
ran  them  over,  slipped  one  from  under  the 
rubber  band,  and  scanned  it  with  great  de- 


190  The  Come  On 

liberation.  He  could  not  afford  to  offend  a 
good  customer,  but  he  could  thus  subtly  re 
buke  such  hasty  and  slipshod  methods. 

"Yes,  it  is  on  the  Commercial."  He  held 
it  out  inquiringly. 

"Thought  so  I"  snorted  the  other. 
"Dolt!  Imbecile!  Ass!  I'll  apply  for  a. 
guardian.  Fix  you  out  this  time!"  He 
whipped  out  fountain  pen  and  checkbook. 
"National  Trust  Company  (guess  I've  got 
enough  there).  Pay  to  J.  C.  Mendenhall 
&  Co. — how  much  was  that?" 

He  took  the  check  from  the  unresisting 
Mendenhall,  spread  it  out  on  the  desk  with 
a  sprawling  gesture,  tore  it  to  strips  with 
the  same  impetuous  vehemence,  and  threw 
it  in  the  waste-basket.  After  this  brief 
outburst  of  anger  his  good  humor  returned. 
"Twelve-fifty.  Here  you  are.  No  mistake 
this  time.  Say,  old  man,  that's  the  drinks  on 
me — come  along!" 


The  Come  On  191 

"Thank  you,  I  never  drink,"  returned 
Mendenhall  primly.  He  had  not  relished 
the  roughness  with  which  the  other  had 
snatched  the  check  from  him,  though  making 
allowance  for  the  natural  annoyance  of  one 
who  had  been  betrayed  into  a  mortifying 
mistake. 

"All  the  better,  all  the  better.  Seldom 
do  myself,  but  sometimes Have  a  ci 
gar?  No?  Well,  I  must  toddle  along!" 

It  may  here  be  mentioned  that  during 
his  moment  of  impulsive  vexation  Mr.  Britt 
had  inconsiderately  substituted  for  the 
"Commercial"  check  another,  precisely  sim 
ilar  save  for  the  important  particular  that 
it  lacked  the  Mendenhall  indorsement.  The 
original  had  slipped  between  the  leaves  of 
Britt's  check  book,  under  cover  of  his  large 
hands.  Those  hands  were  most  expert  in 
various  amusing  and  adroit  feats  of  leger 
demain,  though  Mr.  Britt's  modesty  led 


192  The  Come  On 

him  to  a  becoming,  if  unusual,  reticence 
in  this  regard.  The  substitute,  as  we  have 
seen,  was  in  the  waste-basket. 

Just  before  three  Britt  ran  heavily  up 
the  steps  of  the  First  National,  puffing 
down  the  corridor,  cocking  a  hasty  eye  at 
the  clock  as  he  came. 

"Hey,  there,  sonny!  I  was  almost  too 
late,  wasn't  I?"  was  his  irreverent  greet 
ing  to  the  cashier.  "Time  to  cash  this  be 
fore  closing  up?"  he  demanded  breathless 
ly,  but  with  unabated  cheerfulness.  He 
flopped  the  check  over.  "Mendenhall's  in 
dorsement.  Hi!  Mr.  President!  Just  a 
minute !  I'm  a  stranger  here,  but  if  you'll 
let  us  slip  in  at  a  side  door  I'll  trot  around 
and  fetch  Mendenhall.  Need  this  money 
to-night." 

The  president  took  the  check  from  the  in 
dignant  young  cashier,  nodded  at  the  fa 
miliar  signature  with  the  cabalistic  peculiari- 


The  Come  On  193 

ties  which  attested  its  authenticity,  glanced 
indulgently  at  the  bobbing  white  head  in 
window,  with  difficulty  suppressing  a  smile. 

"It  will  not  be  necessary,  Mr. — Mr. 
Britt,"  he  said  courteously.  "Not  necessary 
at  all.  You  have  an  account  here,  I  be 
lieve?" 

"It  won't  be  here  long,"  retorted  Britt, 
with  garrulous  good  nature.  "Draw  it  all 
out  next  week.  Eleven,  twelve — and  fifty. 
Thanks  to  you.  There  goes  the  clock. 
Good  day!" 

"Quite  an  odd  character,  that  Mr. 
Britt?"  said  the  president  casually  at  the 
club  that  night.  "Boyish  old  chap." 

"Yes,  isn't  he?"  said  Mendenhall,  fold- 
ing  his  paper.  "I  sold  him  a  pretty  stiff  bill 
of  goods  this  morning.  Warmish,  I  take  it. 
He's  going  to  settle  here." 

"Friend  of  yours?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  never  saw  him  before." 


194  The  Come  On 

"Why,  you  indorsed  his  check  for  twelve 
hundred  and  fifty,"  said  the  president,  in 
terested,  but  not  alarmed.  Doubtless  the 
man  had  references.  Besides,  his  face  was 
a  letter  of  credit  in  itself. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mendenhall  unsuspicious 
ly,  thinking  of  the  check  sent  to  the  Farm 
ers'  and  Citizens'  Bank.  The  president, 
thinking  of  the  other,  was  fully  reassured, 
and  was  about  to  pass  on.  Here  the  mat 
ter  might  have  dropped,  and  would  in  most 
cases.  But  Mendenhall,  a  methodical  and 
careful  man,  wished  to  vindicate  his  busi 
ness  prudence  by  explaining  that  he  had 
taken  no  risk  in  indorsing  for  a  stranger, 
since  he  retained  possession  of  the  goods. 

The  rest  is  too  painful. 

"I  do  not  rhyme  for  that  dull  wight" 
who  does  not  foresee  that  New  York,  Chi 
cago  and  Denver  checks  were  returned  in 
due  course,  legibly  inscribed  with  the  sad- 


The  Come  On  195 

dest  words  of  tongue  or  pen,  "No  funds." 
Or  that  Mr.  Britt  fully  justified  his  self- 
given  reputation  for  absence  of  mind  by 
neglecting  to  call  for  his  furniture. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Britt  unostentatiously 
absented  his  body  as  well,  taking  the  trol 
ley  for  an  inland  village.  At  the  time  of 
Mendenhall's  interview  with  the  president 
he  was  speeding  southward  across  country 
in  a  livery  rig,  catching  the  Lackawanna  lo 
cal  for  Binghamton  about  the  time  the  wires 
were  working  and  he  was  being  searched 
for  on  all  Lehigh  Valley  trains. 

"Hello,  Kirkland!"  he  said  to  the  night 
clerk  at  the  Arlington.  "Back  again,  like 
a  bad  sixpence !  Have  my  trunk  sent  up, 
will  you?  No — no  supper!" 

"Letter  for  you,  Mr.  Mitchell.  Just 
came,"  said  the  clerk  respectfully.  "So  we 
were  expecting  you.  Haven't  seen  you  for 
a  long  time." 


196  The  Come  On 

Britt-Mitchell  thrust  the  letter  in  his 
pocket  unopened.  "It'll  keep  till  morning. 
I'm  for  bed.  Good-night,  Frank." 

He  turned  in,  weary  with  his  exertions 
to  be  sure,  but  with  the  pleasing  conscious 
ness  that 

.  .  .  some  one  done 
Has  earned  a  night's  repose. 

Elmsdale  never  learned  these  particulars, 
however.  His  genial  and  expansive  smile 
and  the  unobtrusive  manner  of  his  fading 
away  are  there  vaguely  associated  with  Che 
shire  Puss,  of  joyful  memory,  whose  disap 
pearance,  like  his,  began  with  the  end  of 
the  tale. 


Chapter  III 

"Therms  a  franklin  in  the  wilds  of  Kent,  hath 
brought  three  hundred  marks  with  him  in  gold 
.  .  .  a  kind  of  auditor!' 

IT  was  quite  late  when  Britt-MitcheJl 
arose  like  a  giant  refreshed.  First 
ringing  for  breakfast,  he  bathed  and  shaved 
and  arrayed  himself  carefully  in  glad  ha 
biliments  of  quiet  taste  and  cut,  in  which 
he  bore  slight  resemblance  to  the  rough- 
and-ready  Britt  of  Elmsdale. 

Sitting  indolently  sideways  to  the  table, 
his  feet  on  a  chair,  he  discussed  an  ex 
cellent  breakfast  leisurely,  as  one  at  peace 
with  the  world.  His  paper  was  propped 
before  him;  he  chuckled  as  he  read.  Break 
fast  finished,  he  pulled  his  coffee  over,  lit  a 
cigar  and  puffed  luxuriously.  Not  till  then 
197 


198  The  Come  On 

did  he  open  the  letter  taken  from  the  dis 
carded  coat  of  yesterday.     It  read: 

Well,  old  man,  I  am  sending  you  an  easy 
one.  Crack  him  hard  for  me.  He's  the 
rankest  sucker  yet.  I  was  going  to  work 
the  Scholar's  Gambit  on  him,  but  he'll  get 
his  hooks  on  a  whole  bunch  of  money  when 
he  gets  down  town,  so  I  turn  him  over  to 
you.  Fifty  thou.  to  be  paid  hijn  by  At- 
wood,  Strange  &  Atwood.  You  know  of 
them — Mining  Engineers  and  Experts,  25 
Broad.  Let  him  get  the  boodle  and  hand 
him  a  sour  one. 

Name,  Steve  Thompson,  en  route  to  New 
York.  Section  5,  Sleeper  Tonawanda, 
Phoebe  Snow.  Brown,  smooth-shaved, 
hand-me-down  suit,  cowboy  hat.  From 
Butte,  Montana.  Has  sold  his  mine,  the 
Copper-bottom  (on  right  of  trail  northeast 


The  Come  On  199 

of  Anaconda).  Former  partner,  Frank 
Short,  killed  by  powder  explosion  at  Boze- 
man,  two  years  ago.  Appendix  subjoined 
with  partial  list  of  his  friends,  details  about 
his  mine,  his  ten  years  of  unsuccessful  pros 
pecting,  etc.  Am  not  so  explicit  as  usual, 
because  he  is  such  a  big-mouthed  damfool 
he'll  tell  you  all  he  knows  before  you  get  to 
Hoboken.  Also  I  am  in  some  haste.  I  am 
to  take  him  to  Niagara  with  me  to  give  you 
time  to  get  this  and  join  him  at  Bingham- 
ton,  if  you  are  there  as  planned.  If  not,  I 
have  wired  Jim  to  meet  train  at  Hoboken 
and  keep  in  touch  with  him  till  you  come, 
scraping  acquaintance  if  necessary.  Then 
he  can  disappear  and  leave  you  to  put  the 
kibosh  on  him.  Jim  is  all  right,  but  he  lacks 
your  magnetism,  and  your  light,  firm  touch. 
You  can  beat  us  all  putting  up  a  blue  front. 

RUBE. 


2OO  The  Come  On 

Mr.  Mitchell  rose  to  instant  action.  In  a 
very  few  minutes  his  trunk  was  packed,  his 
bill  paid.  He  then  hied  him  in  haste  to 
the  Carnegie  Library,  where,  till  train  time, 
he  fairly  saturated  himself  with  informa 
tion  concerning  Butte  and  vicinity. 

When  the  train  pulled  out  from  Bingham- 
ton,  Mitchell  sat  across  the  aisle  from 
Thompson,  deep  in  his  paper.  A  visorless 
black  cap  adorned  his  head,  beneath  which 
flowed  his  reverend  white  hair;  rimless  eye 
glasses  imparted  to  his  unimpeachable  re 
spectability  an  eminently  aristocratic  air. 
These  glasses  he  wiped  carefully  from  time 
to  time  with  a  white  silk  handkerchief, 
which  he  laid  across  his  ample  knees,  re 
suming  his  reading,  oblivious  to  all  else. 

The  paper  was  laid  aside  and  the  big 
man  became  immersed  in  a  magazine.  The 
handkerchief  slipped  from  his  knees  into  the 
aisle.  Thompson  politely  restored  it. 


The  Come  On  201' 

"Thank  you,  young  man,  thank  you," 
said  Britt.  Then  a  puzzled  look  came  over 
his  brow.  Polishing  the  glasses  he  took  an 
other  sharp  look.  He  leaned  across  the 
aisle. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  with  state 
ly  courtesy.  "But  I  am  sure  I  have  met 
you  somewhere.  No,  don't  tell  me.  Par 
don  an  old  man's  harmless  vanity,  but  it  is 
my  weakness  to  make  my  memory  do  its 
work  unaided,  when  possible.  I  have  a  fa 
mous  memory  generally,  and  yours  is  not  a 
face  to  be  easily  forgotten.  Let  me  see — not 
in  New  York,  I  think — Philadelphia — 
Washington?  No — you  would  be  from  the 
West,  by  your  hat.  LJm-m-Omaha — Chica 
go,  St.  Louis? — Buttef"  he  said,  with  a  re 
sounding  thwack  on  his  knee.  "Butte! 
Where  every  prospect  pleases,  and  only 
man  is  vile' !" 

"Right  you  are,"  said  the  Westerner,  well 


2O2  The  Come  On 

pleased.  "I  seem  to  remember  you,  too." 
"I  have  it!"  said  Mitchell.  "Don't  re- 
member  your  name — but  you're  the  very 
man  Judge  Harney  pointed  out  to  me  as  the 
unluckiest  prospector  in  Montana.  Said 
you  could  locate  a  claim  bounded  on  all 
sides  by  paying  property  and  gopher 
through  to  China  without  ever  striking  ore." 
"May  I  come  over  there  and  talk?"  said 
Steve.  "Mighty  glad  to  see  some  one  from 
my  town.  You  didn't  live  there  though,  or 
I  should  have  met  you." 

"Certainly,"  said  Mitchell,  making  room. 
"Glad  to  have  you.  Live  there?  Oh,  no, 
I  only  made  a  couple  of  trips.  Some  asso 
ciates  of  mine  were  in  with  Miles  Finlen 
— you  know  him,  I  reckon? — on  the  Bird's- 
eye  proposition,  and  I  took  a  flyer  with 
them,"  he  explained.  "I  lost  out.  Dropped 
several  dollars."  His  face  lit  up  with  com 
fortable  good-humor.  "It  was  a  good  mine, 


The  Come  On  203 

but  it  got  tied  up  in  the  courts.  Let  me  see 
— what  did  Harney  call  you — Townsend, 
Johnson?" 

"Thompson,"  said  Steve,  smiling.  "Steve 
Thompson." 

"So  it  was — so  it  was.  Well,  I  was  get 
ting  close.  Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Thomp 
son.  That  is  my  name."  He  handed  over 
a  bit  of  pasteboard,  inscribed: 

MR.  J.  F.  MITCHELL 

"On  Vesey  Street  now,  just  south  of  Bar 
clay  Street  Ferry.  I'll  jot  down  the  num 
ber — you  want  to  come  round  and  look  me 
up.  Sorry  I  can't  ask  you  to  use  my  house 
for  headquarters.  Wife's  away  to  Bar 
Harbor  for  the  summer,  and  I'm  camping 
out  in  a  hotel.  Tell  you  what,  though — 
you  put  up  at  my  caravanserai — the  Cor 
nucopia — good  house,  treat  you  well.  I'll 


204  The  Come  On 

be  busy  a  day  or  so  catching  up  after  my 
trip  up-state,  but  after  that  I'll  show  you 
around.  But  perhaps  youVe  been  here  be 
fore?" 

"Not  I,"  said  Steve.  "My  first  trip. 
Haven't  been  out  of  Montana  since  I  was  a 
kid.  I'm  sure  glad  to  meet  a  friend  so 


soon.'* 


"Lots  of  Montana  people  here,"  said 
Mitchell  cheerily.  "We'll  look  'em  up. 
Probably  find  some  of  your  old  friends. 
People  here  from  everywhere.  Say — Judge 
Harney  got  into  a  bad  mix-up,  didn't  he? 
That  young  Charley  Clark  is  a  devil.  I've 
met  him  up  here."  With  this  he  launched 
into  a  discussion  of  Butte,  with  inquiries  as 
to  various  figures  of  local  prominence,  from 
which  Steve  was  fain  to  escape  by  turning 
the  talk  on  his  final  good  luck,  the  sale  of 
his  mine  and  his  rosy  prospects.  For 
Mitchell  had  "crammed  up"  on  Butte  indus- 


The  Come  On  205 

triously.  Steve  lacked  his  facilities,  his  sole 
source  of  information  being  certain  long- 
past  campfire  tales  of  Neighbor  Jones. 

"Made  it  at  last,  did  you?  Glad  to  hear 
it.  Can't  keep  a  good  man  down,  as  the 
whale  said  to  Jonah,"  said  Mitchell  heart 
ily.  "  'But  with  all  thy  getting,  get  under 
standing,'  "  he  quoted  with  unctuous  benev 
olence.  "The  city  is  full  of  traps  for  the 
unwary.  You  can't  be  too  careful,  young 
man.  Don't  be  drawn  into  gambling,  or 
drinking,  or  fast  company,  or  you'll  be 
robbed  before  you  know  it.  Watch  out  for 
pickpockets,  and,  above  all,  be  chary  of 
making  acquaintance  with  strangers.  They're 
sly  down  here,  my  boy — devilish  sly.  Have 
you  any  friends  in  town?  If  you  have,  get 
them  to  go  around  with  you  till  you  learn 
the  ropes." 

"Don't  know  a  soul  but  you,"  said  Steve 
truthfully.  "But  I  have  a  letter  here  to  the 


206  The  Come  On 

people  who  are  putting  the  sale  through. 
Do  you  know  these  people?" 

"Atwood,  Strange  &  Atwood,"  Mitchell 
read.  "A  good,  reliable  firm.  I  don't  know 
them,  but  I  know  of  'em.  They  will  advise 
you  just  as  I  do." 

"But,"  objected  Steve,  "I  want  to  see  a 
good  time.  That's  what  I  come  for.  For 
instance,  I  want  to  see  the  races.  And  nat 
urally,  I  want  to  put  up  a  few  dollars  to 
make  it  interesting." 

"Bad  business — bad  business,"  admon 
ished  the  elder  man  wisely.  "I  don't  ob 
ject  to  a  quiet  game  of  cards  myself,  among 
friends,  and  for  modest  stakes.  But  I  can't 
afford  to  do  anything  to  hurt  my  business 
reputation.  Let  a  man  of  small  means, 
like  myself,  play  the  ponies,  or  affect  shady 
company,  and  what  happens?  All  the  banks 
know  it  at  once,  and  shut  down  on  loans  in- 


The  Come  On  207 

stanter.  They  keep  tab  on  all  business  men 
religiously." 

"What's  your  line?"  said  Steve,  im 
pressed. 

"Mainly  buying  on  commission  for  Mexi 
can  and  South  American  trade — though  I 
handle  a  good  many  orders  for  country 
dealers,  too,"  replied  Mitchell.  "My  spe 
cialty  is  agricultural  implements,  barbed 
wire,  machinery  and  iron  stuff  generally,  for 
the  export  trade.  There's  things  about  it 
would  surprise  you.  Why,  such  things, 
farm  machinery  more  especially,  retail  in 
Buenos  Ayres  at  from  40  to  60  per  cent, 
of  what  they  do  here,  after  paying  freight 
charges  and  a  snug  commission  to  me." 

"How  can  they  do  it?"  asked  Steve,  in 
terested. 

Mitchell  plunged  into  an  explanation  of 
the  workings  of  the  tariff  and  its  effect  on 
home  prices.  He  had  it  at  his  fingers1  end. 


2o8  The  Come  On 

Under  his  skillful  hands  the  dry  subject 
became  really  interesting,  embellished  with 
a  wealth  of  illustration  and  anecdote.  He 
was  still  deep  in  his  exposition,  when,  be 
yond  Scranton,  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  arm. 
A  dapper,  little,  dark  man,  with  twinkling, 
black  eyes  and  pointed  black  beard,  stood 
in  the  aisle. 

"Well,  Mitchell !"  he  said,  with  an  affec 
tionate  pat.  "Still  riding  your  hobby?" 

The  fat  man  jumped  up,  beaming.  "Lor- 
ing!  by  all  that's  holy!  Let  me  make  you 
acquainted  with  my  friend.  Mr.  Thomp 
son — Mr.  Loring.  Mr.  Loring  is  one  of 
our  rising  young  artists." 

"The  rising  young  artist,"  said  Loring 
with  a  flash  of  white  teeth,  "is  trying  to  get 
up  a  whist  game,  to  pass  away  the  time. 
Will  you  gentlemen  assist?"  He  turned 
aside  in  a  paroxysm  of  coughing. 

"Certainly,     certainly — that    is,    if    Mr. 


The  Come  On  209 

Thompson  plays. That's  a  bad  cough 

you've  got  there,  Loring." 

"Yes — caught  cold  fishing,"  said  the  ar 
tist.  "Will  you  join  us,  Mr.  Thompson?" 

"Glad  to,"  said  that  worthy.  "Only  my 
game  is  bumble-puppy.  You  can  hardly  call 
it  whist.  Who's  the  fourth?" 

"Yet  to  be  found,"  laughed  Loring.  After 
a  few  rebuffs  they  picked  up  a  drummer, 
and  adjourned  to  the  smoker,  buying  a  deck 
from  the  train  boy.  The  little  dark  man 
and  Steve  played  against  the  other  two,  a 
suitcase  on  their  knees  serving  as  a  table. 
They  played  a  rubber.  Steve  verified  his 
statements  as  to  his  style  of  play. 

"Well,  that's  enough — nearly  in,"  said 
Loring,  as  they  drew  near  their  destination. 

"Yes,  indeed.  I  must  go  back  to  my  car. 
We've  had  a  pleasant  game,"  said  the 
fourth  man,  taking  his  leave. 

"Have  a  smoke — you'll  find  these  A!  I," 


2io  The  Come  On 

said  the  artist.  "Say,  Mitchell,  I've  learned 
a  new  trick  to  illustrate  the  old  saying  that 
the  hand  is  quicker  than  the  eye."  Sticking 
a  cigar  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  he  ran 
over  the  cards  swiftly,  took  out  the  two  red 
jacks,  and  held  them  up,  one  in  each  hand, 
backs  toward  himself,  faces  to  Mitchell  and 
Steve. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "you  can  put  these  two 
jacks  in  the  deck  wherever  you  wish,  shuf 
fle  them  all  you  please,  let  me  give  them 
just  one  riffle,  and  you'll  find  them  both  to 
gether.  He  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  lips 
and  turned  away  to  cough,  laying  the  two 
jacks  face  downward  on  the  table. 

With  a  nudge  to  Steve,  Mitchell  threw 
the  jack  of  hearts  under  Loring's  seat,  where 
it  lay,  face  up,  substituting  therefor  the  five 
of  clubs  from  the  top  of  the  deck. 

Loring  held  the  cards  up  again.  "There 
are  the  two  jacks,  gentlemen:  the  two  in- 


The  Come  On  211 

separable  jacks.  Put  them  in  for  your 
selves,  and  watch  me — close!" 

Steve  took  the  five  of  clubs  and  put  it  in 
the  middle.  Mitchell  put  in  the  jack  of  dia 
monds.  Both  shuffled.  Loring  cut  the  pack 
into  two  equal  parts,  using  only  the  extreme 
tip  ends  of  his  fingers,  and  shoved  them  to 
gether  in  the  same  fashion.  Balancing  the 
deck  on  the  open  palm  of  his  left  hand,  he 
turned  the  cards  carefully  with  his  right 
thumb  and  forefinger,  keeping  up  a  running 
fire  of  comment. 

"Now  watch  me !  This  trick  won't  work 
with  any  other  cards  but  the  jacks.  The  rea 
son  is  easy  to  see.  Where  you  find  one 
knave  there's  always  another  close  by.  'Birds 
of  a  feather  flock  together,'  you  know.  Ah  I 
here  we  are !"  He  turned  over  the  knave  of 
diamonds,  and  laid  the  deck  down.  "Now," 
he  said  to  Mitchell,  "what'll  you  bet  the  next 
card  isn't  the  knave  of  hearts?"  Here  he 


212  The  Come  On 

was  again  attacked  by  that  excruciating 
cough. 

As  he  turned  away  Mitchell  slyly  turned 
up  the  corner  of  the  next  card,  winking  at 
Steve.  It  was  the  five  of  clubs.  Evidently 
Loring  had  done  the  trick  right,  except  for 
the  substituted  card. 

"I'll  bet  you  five  hundred  dollars!"  said 
Mitchell  jubilantly.  He  drew  out  a  billhook 
and  shook  a  handful  of  notes  at  the  artist. 
"A  thousand,  if  you  like!" 

"Nobody  wants  to  rob  you,  Mitchell," 
laughed  Loring.  "Put  up  your  money.  I 
don't  need  it.  I'll  do  the  trick,  of  course." 
Steve  was  laughing  immoderately. 

"Rob  me!  Go  ahead!  You're  welcome !" 
said  Mitchell,  riotously  radiant.  He  waved 
the  bills  before  Loring's  eyes.  "Money 
talks  !  Yah !  You  haven't  the  nerve  to  bet 
on  it,"  he  taunted,  his  knee  touching  Steve's 
under  the  table. 


The  Come  On  213, 

Loring's  black  eyes  snapped  maliciously. 
"Oh,  well,  you  insist  on  it,"  he  said.  "I've 
warned  you  now,  remember !  No  rebate  on 
this.  How  much?"  He  pulled  out  a  fat 
rubber-banded  roll  and  began  stripping  bills 
from  the  outside. 

"A  thousand — all  you  want!"  shouted 
Mitchell,  in  high  glee.  "Getting  on,  Thomp 
son?" 

Steve,  still  laughing,  shook  his  head.  "I'll 
be  stakeholder,"  he  said  in  a  choking  voice. 

The  black-eyed  man  shot  a  malevolent 
glance  at  him  as  they  put  up  the  money  in 
his  hands.  For  he  had  a  supernumerary  jack 
of  hearts,  neatly  palmed,  to  turn  up  if  Steve 
"bit."  This  quickly  disappeared,  however, 
or  rather  did  not  appear  at  all.  With  an  ex 
pectant  smile  the  artist  turned  up  from  the 
top  of  the  deck  the  five  of  clubs.  He  looked 
at  it  in  stupefied  amazement,  which,  if  not 
real,  was  well  invented. 


214  The  Come  On 

Mitchell  roared  and  pounded  the  suitcase.  , 
"Oh,  Loring!"  he  gasped,  drying  his  eyes. 
"You  will  teach  an  old  dog  new  tricks,  will 
you?  My  stars,  but  you're  easy!"  He  took 
the  cash  from  the  grinning  stakeholder, 
counted  out  Loring's  half  and  pushed  it  over 
to  that  much  discomfited  gentleman.  "I  don't 
want  to  rob  you!"  he  quoted  mockingly. 
"But  if  I  had  time  I'd  have  kept  you  on  the 
anxious  seat  a  while.  There's  your  jack  of 
hearts,  under  your  feet  I" 

"Why,  you  fat,  old  swindler !  You  white- 
headed  outrage — you — you  Foxy  Grandpa!" 
cried  Loring  in  blushing  chagrin — not  wholly 
dissembled,  either.  "I  ought  to  make  you  eat 
it.  Come,  have  a  drink."  He  led  the  way, 
the  others  following  with  gibe  and  jeer. 

"Why  didn't  you  bet  with  him,  Thomp 
son?"  demanded  Mitchell,  still  shaking  with 
Homeric  laughter.  "Say,  I  should  have  kept 


The  Come  On  215 

his  money,  by  good  rights.  'Twould  have 
been  the  joke  of  the  season  I" 

Steve  raised  his  glass.  "I  would,"  he  re 
plied  innocently,  "but  I  knew  you'd  give  it 
back,  anyhow,  so  what's  the  use — among 
friends?  If  it  had  been  a  stranger,  now,  I'd 
'a1  hopped  on  the  band-wagon  too  quick.  I 
like  a  little  easy  money  as  well  as  anybody. 
Well,  here's  to  our  next  meeting!" 

"Hello  I"  said  Mitchell.  "Here's  the  tun- 
nel  and  Hoboken.  Let's  go  back  to  our  be 
longings.  Now,  Thompson,  business  first 
and  pleasure  after,  you  know.  You  take  the 
Barclay  Street  boat.  If  I  don't  get  time  to 
see  you  before  noon  to-morrow  you  run  up 
to  the  office  and  see  me.  It's  only  a  block 
from  the  Cornucopia.  I've  got  to  go  the 
other  way,  and  so  does  Loring — at  least  his 
studio's  uptown.  I  say,  Loring,  tell  Mr. 
Thompson  what's  doing  at  the  theatres. 
That's  in  your  line." 


216  The  Come  On 

Loring  named  several  plays,  recommend 
ing  one  as  particularly  good.  In  the  waiting- 
room  they  parted  with  warm  handshakings 
and  great  good-will. 

"Do  you  suppose  he's  wise?"  said  Loring, 
on  the  ferry. 

Mitchell  guffawed.  "That  bumpkin? 
Not  he.  The  poor,  dumb  idiot  took  it  all 
as  a  practical  joke  among  friends.  Nat 
urally,  just  as  he  said,  he  thought  I'd  give 
you  your  money  back.  Glad  you  had  pres 
ence  of  mind  enough  to  go  on  through  with 
the  five-spot.  It's  fine  business  to  be  able  to 
think  on  your  feet,  especially  for  us  moon- 
minions.  Good  thing  it  turned  out  the  way 
it  did.  He's  got  perfect  confidence  in  me 
now — he's  seen  me  tried,  and  knows  I'm 
straight.  We'll  get  more  out  of  him  in  the 
long  run."  He  explained  Steve's  mining 
expectations  at  length. 

"I  don't  like  it  much,"  said  Loring.     "It's 


The  Come  On  217 

a  bad  sign.  My  experience  is  that  it's  hard 
to  overreach  a  man  that  isn't  on  the  hog 
himself.  When  they're  eager  to  annex 
something  dishonestly  you  get  'em  every 
time.  Maybe  you'll  lose  him.  Why  didn't 
you  stay  with  him?  He  may  not  go  to  the 
Cornucopia  at  all." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  will!"  said  Mitchell  con- 
dently.  "I  am  going  to  play  him  for  all  he's 
worth,  and  I  want  him  to  feel  sure  I'm  O. 
K.  It  might  make  him  suspicious  if  I  kept 
at  his  coat  tails.  Plenty  of  time.  I  won't 
even  look  him  up  to-morrow.  Rig  the  old 
joint  as  my  office,  and  wait  there  till  he 
hunts  me  up.  Let  him  make  all  the  ad 
vances,  d'ye  see?  Teach  him  bridge,  on 
the  square,  at  night.  Let  him  win  a  little — 
just  enough  to  keep  him  satisfied  with  him 
self — you?\\  see.  Wait  till  he  draws  his 
wad,  and  we'll  throw  the  gaff  in  him  to  the 
queen's  taste.  If  he  won't  nibble  at  one  hooli 


2i 8  The  Come  On 

try  another.  But,  I  say,  Billy,  you'll  have 
to  furnish  the  scads  for  bait,  in  case  he  don't 
rise  to  something  easy.  I  know  you're  flush 
from  that  Manning  job." 

Meantime,  with  unspoiled  and  sparkling 
eye,  the  inlander  saw,  broad  sweeping  be 
fore  him,  mist-bordered,  dream-vast,  dim- 
seen  beneath  the  lowering  sky,  the  magic 
city  whose  pulsings  send  and  call  a  nation's 
life-blood. 

The  salt  tang  of  the  sea  was  in  his  nos 
trils;  greetings,  many-keyed,  hoarse-whistled 
by  plying  craft,  were  in  his  ears;  creamy- 
foamed  wakes  of  turbulent  keels,  swift-sent 
or  laboring,  boiled  their  swirling  splendor 
against  the  black  water.  Mysterious,  cou- 
chant,  straining,  the  bulwarked  city  rode  the 
waves;  a  mighty  ship,  her  funnels  the  great 
buildings  beyond,  where  sullen  streamers  of 
smoke  trailed  motionless  and  darkling;  the 


The  Come  On  219 

indescribable,  multitudinous  hum  of  the 
city's  blended  voices  for  purring  of  monster 
engines,  deep  in  her  hold;  bold  and  high, 
her  restless  prow  swung  seaward  in  majes 
tic  curve,  impatient  to  beat  to  open  main. 

This  simple  young  man  actually  found 
impressiveness,  glamour,  even  beauty,  in  this 
eye-filling  canvas;  the  crowding  of  crashing 
lights  and  interwoven  shadows,  massed,  in 
numerable,  bewildering;  the  turmoil  of  con 
fused  and  broken  line,  sprawled  with  tre 
mendous  carelessness  for  a  giant's  delight. 

Plainer  proof  of  his  utter  unsophistica- 
tion  could  not  be.  For  it  is  traditional  with, 
all  "correct"  and  well-informed  folk  that 
New  York  is  hopelessly  ugly.  It  gives  one 
such  a  superior  air  to  disprize  with  easy 
scorn  this  greatest  of  the  Gateways  of  the 
World. 


Chapter  IV 

"A  good  plot,  good  friends,  and  full  of  expecta 
tion:  an  excellent  plot,  very  good  friends." 

STEVE  went,  not  to  a  theatre,  but  to 
bed.  In  the  morning,  after  a  few  in 
quiries,  he  sauntered  round  to  get  his  bear 
ings.  He  made  these  explorations  afoot, 
opining  that,  at  first,  the  use  of  street  cars 
or  the  "L"  would  tend  to  confuse  his  orien 
tation.  He  contented  himself  with  locat 
ing  25  Broad  Street,  without  presenting  his 
letter.  Incidentally,  he  left  most  of  his  cash 
in  a  safe-deposit  drawer.  "For,"  he  mused, 
"the  touching  attachment  of  my  open-hand 
ed,  prepossessing  friend  may  not  always  ad 
here  to  the  lofty  plane  recognized  by  busi 
ness  ethics.  He  may,  at  any  time,  abandon 
the  refined  and  artistic  methods  of  high  fi- 
220 


The  Come  On  221 

nance  for  primitive,  crude  and  direct  means 
unworthy  of  his  talents.  The  safe  side  of  a 
safe  is  the  inside  of  a  safe." 

So  back  by  the  water-front,  where  he 
spent  a  pleasant  and  interesting  forenoon. 
At  one  o'clock  there  were  still  no  signs  of 
Mitchell.  So  Steve,  Mahomet-like,  sought 
his  office. 

The  mise-en-scene  was  admirable.  A  well- 
littered  desk,  two  'phones,  code-book,  direc 
tory,  typewriter,  file-books,  a  busy  book 
keeper,  a  fair  stenographer — no  detail  was 
omitted.  Mitchell,  pacing  the  floor,  paused 
in  his  dictation  to  give  him  a  cheerful  greet 
ing. 

"Hello,  Thompson — up  already?  Just  sit 
down  till  I'm  through  here,  will  you?  Most 
done.  How'd  you  like  to  walk  around  the 
docks?  That  ought  to  interest  you.  All 
right — thought  it  would.  I've  got  some 
business  at  No.  4.  Make  yourself  at  home. 


222  The  Come  On 

There's  the  papers — Ready,  Miss  Stanley?" 
Clearing  his  throat,  he  put  a  hand  under  his 
coat-tails  and  resumed  dictation: 

"  'Melquiades  Sandoval  y  Hijos,  Monte- 
vidio.  Gentlemen:  Your  order  shipped  to 
day  by  steamer  Escobar  as  per  your  esteemed 
favor  of  the  5th.  Invoices  inclosed.  In  the 
item  of  mowing  machines,  was  unable  to  fill 
order  with  Nonpareil  as  desired.  Have 
taken  liberty  of  substituting  fifty  Micas,  the 
Mica  being  the  same  in  every  respect  except 
the  name  plate.  In  fact,  the  two  firms,  with 
others,  have  a  "gentleman's  agreement" 
sharing  patents,  keeping  up  separate  plants 
only  to  preserve  the  appearance  of  compe 
tition.  (Confound  it — excuse  me,  Miss 
Stanley — there's  my  hobby  again.  Shouldn't 
have  said  that,  but  let  it  go.)  Trusting  you, 
will  find  this  satisfactory  in  every  particu 
lar,  and  hoping  to  be  favored  by  your  future 
orders,  I  am,  etc.' — Got  that?  Next! 


The  Come  On  223 

"'Brown,  Small  &  VanRiper,  Hartford, 
Ct.  Gentlemen:  Inclosed  find  my  check 
for  $27,000,  to  be  used  in  the  matter  we 
discussed  the  other  day.  Kindly  send  pa 
pers  to  my  lawyers,  Reed,  Reed,  Perkins  & 
Reed. 

"  'Am  sorry  I  cannot  more  largely  avail 
myself  of  the  privilege  so  kindly  extended 
me.  At  the  present,  however,  my  capital  is 
tied  up  in  various  enterprises,  and  I  am  real 
ly  crowding  myself  to  raise  this.  Thanking 
you  for  past  favors,  etc.' — Here's  the  last. 
'Mr.  Joseph  Yates,  Rehobeth  Beach,  Dela 
ware.  Dear  old  Joe:  Sorry  to  hear  of 
your  undeserved  bad  luck.  While  not  ex 
actly  a  financial  Napoleon  these  days,  I  am 
able  to  accommodate  you,  and  glad  to  do 
so.  Have  not  forgotten  the  time  you  helped 
me  out  of  a  mighty  tight  place.  Draw  on 
me  for  $10,000  through  the  Marine.  Take 
your  time  for  repayment.  If  this  is  not 


224  The  Come  On 

enough,  let  me  know.  Kind  regards  to  the 
wife — and  take  care  of  yourself,  old  man. 
In  haste,  your  old  friend ' 

"Pound  those  off,  Miss  Stanley.  Jim" — 
this  to  the  silently  industrious  bookkeeper — 
"how  much  have  we  got  at  the  Marine?" 

After  swift  search  in  a  little  black  book 
the  bookkeeper  looked  up — "Seven  thousand 
six  hundred-twenty,  sir,"  he  replied  respect 
fully. 

"I'll  give  you  enough  to  make  out  ten 
thousand  to  honor  old  Joe's  draft,"  rumi 
nated  Mitchell,  twirling  the  safe-knobs  deft 
ly.  "You  take  it  round  and  deposit  it.  On 
your  way  back  jack  Stevens  up  about  those 
plows.  Tell  him  if  he  don't  get  'em  round 
on  time  he  loses  one  big  customer — and 
that's  me."  Counting  out  the  required 
amount,  he  stuffed  the  slight  remainder  in 
his  pocket,  slammed  shut  the  safe,  signed  his 


The  Come  On  225 

letters  briskly,  and  took  up  his  hat.  "Come 
on,  Thompson,  we'll  be  off." 

"Now  then,"  he  resumed,  in  the  elevator, 
"IVe  got  to  go  down  to  slip  No.  4,  to  see 
about  some  stuff  I'm  shipping  to  Mexico. 
Walk  or  ride?  It's  only  a  little  ways." 

"Let's  walk,  then,"  said  Steve.  "You 
can  tell  me  about  the  boats  as  we  go.  That's 
what  takes  my  eye.  What's  that  big  one 
coming  in?" 

"Rotterdammer.  The  one  behind  her  is 
a  coaster — Menacho,  Puig  &  Co.  Look  up 
stream — there's  a  big  Cunarder  just  swing 
ing  out.  Hello,  there's  the  Rosenthal  and 
Montoya  stuff  now!" 

A  string  of  heavily-laden  drays  moved 
slowly  down  the  rock-paved  street.  "Lights 
out!  Protect  yourself!"  thought  Steve.  "I 
feel  a  presentiment  that  there'll  be  a  heavy 
transportation  bill  on  that  stuff  and  that  my 
friend  won't  have  enough  cash  to  settle  it. 


226  The  Come  On 

Perhaps  he  will  accept  a  temporary  accom 
modation  from  me.  Thompson,  he  pays  the 
freight — nit!" 

This  unworthy  suspicion  proved  unfound 
ed.  As  they  watched  the  rumbling  wagons 
they  were  joined  by  one  of  businesslike  ap 
pearance  and  swift  step. 

"Going  down,  Mitchell?  That's  your 
Argentine  freights,  I  suppose?  At  least,  I 
recognize  your  foreman. " 

Mitchell  introduced  him:  Mr.  Archibald, 
of  the  Bowring  and  Archibald  line,  in  the 
coastwise  and  southern  trade. 

"Just  going  down  to  your  place,  Archie. 
We  were  going  to  walk,  but  if  you're  in  a 
hurry " 

"Not  at  all.  Have  a  cigar ?"  said  the 
pseudo-Archibald  urbanely. 

"You  can  show  my  young  friend  over  the 
boats,  if  you  will,"  said  Mitchell.  "Rank 
inlander,  Thompson.  Rather  look  at  a  boat 


The  Come  On  227 

than  eat.  Been  talking  boat,  boat,  boat  to 
me  ever  since  we  left  the  office." 

"Happy  to  do  so,"  said  the  merchant- 
mariner.  "You'd  better  take  a  little  trip 
with  us,  Mr.  Thompson — say  a  run  down 
to  Havana.  Any  friend  of  Mr. 
Mitchell's " 

A  young  man  came  tearing  across  the 
street  at  a  great  rate.  "Mitchell!"  he 
shouted.  "Mitchell!  Look  here!"  He 
thrust  a  telegram  into  Mitchell's  hand. 
"Just  reached  me  by  A.  D.  T.  from  the 
Carlton.  Let  me  have  some  money,  will 
you?  About  three  thousand.  Just  got  time 
to  catch  the  next  Pennsylvania  train  and 
make  connections  at  Baltimore." 

Mitchell  spread  out  the  yellow  slip  and 
read  it  aloud.  "H'm!  Tonce  de  Leon  St 
Augustine  Florida  John  E  Bickford  The 
Carlton  New  York — Come  at  once  Father 
worse  Doctor  orders  to  Egypt  Jennie.'  Why 


228  The  Come  On 

sure,  my  boy.  Here's  what  cash  I  got,  and 
I'll  give  you  a  check.  Too  bad,  too  bad! 
By  George,  I  hope  your  dad  pulls  through. 
What!  Blame  it,  I  mean  dammit,  I've  come 
off  without  my  checkbook.  Got  yours, 
Archie?" 

Archie  patted  his  pockets.  "No,  I 
haven't.  Left  it  in  the  office.  Got  a  couple 
of  hundred  cash  you're  welcome  to,  though." 

The  young  man  looked  nervously  at  his 
watch.  Mitchell  turned  hesitatingly  toward 
Thompson.  But  the  Westerner  did  not  wait 
for  an  appeal  to  his  generosity.  He  volun 
teered,  eager  to  oblige  a  man  of  such  large 
affairs  as  his  substantial  friend. 

"I'll  write  you  a  check.  You  can  just  run 
in  to  the  nearest  bank  with  me  and  indorse 
it,  Mr.  Mitchell.  Sorry  I  haven't  the  cash 
with  me."  Thus  Steve,  his  clumsy  innocence 
eluding  the  toils  with  all  the  grace  of  an 
agile  hippopotamus. 


The  Come  On  229 

The  grafters  glanced  at  each  other.  But 
Mitchell  was  equal  to  the  emergency. 

"No  need  to  bother  you,  Mr.  Thompson, 
thanks,  all  the  same,"  he  said  suavely. 
"Archibald,  just  give  me  what  youVe  got 
and  I'll  run  over  to  Jersey  City  with  John. 
Traffic  Manager  of  the  Pennsylvania  is  a 
friend  of  mine.  If  he's  in  his  office  I'll  get 
it  of  him.  Otherwise,  I'll  start  John  on, 
and  wire  balance  to  him  at  St.  Augustine 
when  I  get  back.  Wait  a  minute,  John. 
Got  plenty  of  time  to  catch  the  boat.  Look 
here,  Archie — you're  not  busy,  are  you?'1 

"I'm  always  busy,"  said  the  shipowner 
gayly,  "but  no  more  so  to-day  than  any 
other  day.  Why?" 

"Oh,  well,  you  can  get  off.  I  promised 
Thompson,  here,  to  do  him  the  honors,  and 
now  I've  got  to  help  John  out.  Oh,  you  two 
are  not  acquainted,  are  you?  Excuse  me! 
Mr.  Archibald,  Mr.  Bickford— Mr.  Thomp- 


230  The  Come  On 

son,  Mr.  Bickford.  Mr.  Bickford's  father 
was  a  dear  old  friend  of  mine.  Once  very 
wealthy,  too,  but  has  had  reverses.  Bless 
me,  how  I  do  ramble  on!  Old  age,  sir,  old 
age !  Osier  was  half  right.  Now,  Archie, 
'phone  up  to  your  office  that  you're  unavoid 
ably  detained  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  like  a 
good  fellow,  and  take  my  place  as  cicerone. 
Never  mind  your  dinky  little  boats — take 
him  up  and  show  him  the  big  fellows — the 
ocean  greyhounds." 

"But,"  objected  Archibald,  "I've  got  to  go 
down  to  the  office  to  get  some  money. 
You've  broke  me,  you  shanghaier." 

"So  I  have,  so  I  have!"  He  peeled  off  a 
hundred-dollar-bill,  ignoring  Steve's  protest. 
"That  enough?  I'll  fix  John  up,  some  way. 
You're  at  Mr.  Thompson's  orders.  Mind, 
his  money  isn't  any  good.  I  pay  for  both 
of  you.  Wish  it  was  more,  but  you  see  how 
I'm  hooked  up.  You'll  have  a  better  time 


The  Come  On  231 

with  a  young  fellow  like  Archie  than  you 
would  with  an  old  fogy  like  me,  anyhow. 
Here,  we'll  be  left!"  He  made  for  the  fer 
ry  slips  with  the  anxious  Bickford. 

Thus  did  the  wily  Mr.  Mitchell  justify 
his  headship.  In  these  profuse  strains  of 
unpremeditated  art,  apparently  the  merest 
of  rambling  commonplace,  he  had  plainly 
conveyed  to  his  henchmen  that,  though  foiled 
by  the  countryman's  straightforward  single- 
mindedness,  they  were  not  to  adopt  a  policy 
of  scuttle,  but  persevere  in  the  paths  of  man 
ifest  destiny  to  benevolent  assimilation;  at 
the  same  time  adroitly  extricating  his  embar 
rassed  lieutenant  from  a  very  present  pre 
dicament.  Because  "Archibald"  felt  a  cer 
tain  reluctance  about  accompanying  Steve  to 
Pier  Number  4  in  the  capacity  of  owner, 
for  the  sufficiently  obvious  reason  that  he 
might  be  summarily  kicked  off.  Such  a  con 
tretemps  might  give  cause  for  conjecture 


232  The  Come  On 

even  in  one  so  green  as  his  companion,  re 
flected  Archie. 

He  saluted  with  easy  grace.  "Orders, 
captain?  Happy  to  oblige.  My  friend's 
friend  is  my  friend." 

Steve  saw  the  big  steamships.  Thence,  at 
his  artless  suggestion,  they  went  to  Brooklyn 
Bridge.  Followed  rides  on  the  Subway  and 
Elevated,  a  viewing  of  skyscrapers  and  such 
innocent  and  exhilarating  delights.  Noting 
Archibald's  well-groomed  and  natty  appear 
ance,  Steve  naively  asked  his  advice  in  mat 
ters  sartorial,  purchasing  much  raiment  and 
leaving  an  order  with  a  fashionable  tailor. 
But,  after  an  amazing  dinner  at  an  uptown 
house  of  call,  Archibald  took  the  reins  into 
his  own  guidance,  and  led  him  forth  to  quite 
other  distractions — in  the  agricultural  quar 
ter  of  the  city,  where  that  popular  and  ever- 
blooming  cereal,  wild  oats,  is  sown  by  night 
and  by  day. 


The  Come  On  233 

Behind  them  the  plausible  Mr.  Mitchell 
and  his  old  friend's  son  held  high  commune. 

"Why,  the  lantern-jawed,  bug-eyed,  rub 
ber-necked,  double-jointed,  knock-kneed, 
splay-foot,  hair-lipped,  putty-brained  country 
Jake!  Did  you  see  him  sidestep  that?"  de 
manded  the  aggrieved  Bickford,  forgetting, 
in  his  pique,  his  stricken  father.  "What  you 
want  to  do  to  him  is  to  sandbag  him,  give 
him  knockout  drops,  stab  him  under  the  fifth 

rib!  He's  too  elusive — the  devil-sent " 

He  was  proceeding  to  further  particulars 
when  Mitchell  checked  him. 

"I  want  you  to  bear  in  mind  that  this  is 
no  strong-arm  gang,  and  I'm  neither  dip 
nor  climber."  His  emphasis  was  withering. 
"My  credit  is  involved  in  this  affair  now, 
and  I'm  going  through  with  it.  If  he'd  had 
the  dough  with  him  he'd  handed  it  out  just 
like  he  did  the  check.  He  floundered  out 
through  pure,  unadulterated  innocence.  I'll 


234  The  Come  On 

land  him  yet.  Next  time  I  won't  leave  the 
shirt  to  his  back.  I  tried  him  with  covetous- 
ness.  I've  tried  him  with  distress.  Now 
I'll  tempt  him  with  a  business  opportunity — 
one  that  he'll  have  to  have  cash  for.  Keep 
your  eye  on  your  uncle.  He'll  see  you 
through." 

The  next  day  being  Sunday,  Mitchell  took 
the  cowboy  to  the  Speedway,  and  back 
through  Central  Park,  in  an  auto,  frankly 
hired. 

"I  can  hardly  afford  to  set  up  one,"  he 
confided.  "And  anyway,  I  haven't  much 
leisure.  Of  course,  when  a  good  fellow  like 
you  comes  along  I  can  take  a  day  off,  once  in 
a  way.  But  generally  my  nose  is  down  to 
the  grindstone." 

On  their  way  home  he  pointed  out  a  fine 
building,  ornamented  with  a  "To  Let"  sign 
in  the  window.  "There's  a  place  I  used  to 
own,  Thompson,"  he  said.  "Belongs  to  a 


The  Come  On  235 

friend  of  mine,  young  Post.  One  of  the  best 
families — but,  poor  fellow,  he's  in  trouble 
now."  He  dismissed  the  subject  with  a  be 
nevolent  sigh.  "Would  you  like  to  go  in  and 
look  at  it?  The  caretaker  will  show  it  to 
you.  He'll  think  you're  a  prospective  buyer. 
You  needn't  tell  him  so,  but  then  again  you 
needn't  tell  him  any  different.  There's  no 
harm  and  it's  well  worth  seeing." 

Thompson,  nothing  loth,  agreed.  It  was 
a  fine  house,  as  Mitchell  had  guessed. 

"Gracious!"  said  Steve,  when  the  inspec 
tion  was  over.  "What's  such  a  house 
worth?" 

"I  sold  it  for  forty  thousand.    It's  worth 


more  now." 


Steve  gazed  at  him  wide-eyed.  "My!  I 
shouldn't  have  thought  it  worth  that  much." 
(It  was,  in  fact,  worth  a  great  deal  more.) 

"It's  the  ground  that  makes  it  cost  so," 
explained  Mitchell.  "That's  why  the  value 


236  The  Come  On 

has  increased.  The  house  itself  is  not  worth 
as  much  as  when  I  had  it,  but  land  values  are 
coming  up  by  leaps  and  bounds.  Young 
man,  the  ground  valuation  alone  of  the  six 
square  miles  adjoining  Central  Park  is  more 
than  the  value  of  all  real  estate  in  the  great 
commonwealth  of  Missouri.  And  it  is  going 
higher  every  year." 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Steve,  much 
impressed. 

"Do  you  understand  the  philosophy  of  an 
artesian  well?  Yes?  Then  you  understand 
this.  Every  farm  cleared,  every  acre  plant 
ed,  every  mine  developed,  every  baby  born, 
enhances  the  value  of  all  city  property — and 
New  York's  got  the  biggest  standpipe.  The 
back  country  soaks  up  the  rain  and  it  is  de 
livered  conveniently  at  our  doors  through 
underground  channels,  between  the  unleak- 
ing  walls  that  confine  its  flow;  our  price  on 
the  surplus  you  have  to  sell  and  our  price 


The  Come  On  237 

on  the  necessities  you  buy.  Every  city  taps 
this  flow,  be  the  pipe  large  or  small;  and  as 
I  said  before,  New  York  has  the  biggest 
gusher. 

"We've  got  the  money.  So  you  may  do 
the  work  and  we  allow  you  to  get  enough 
to  sustain  life,  and  just  as  little  more  as  pos 
sible.  Sell  at  our  price,  buy  at  our  price — 
we've  got  you  coming  and  going.  You  can't 
get  away. 

"You're  poor,  you  take  what  you  can  get 
to  pay  your  debts.  That  keeps  down  prices 
on  what  you  sell.  YouVe  got  families, 
you've  got  to  play.  Yes,  yes,  quite  right, 
the  rules  are  not  entirely  fair;  we'll  revise 
them  to-morrow,  maybe,  some  time.  Let 
you  do  it?  Tut,  tut,  no,  no!  Why,  you 
object  to  'em!  That  won't  do  at  all.  Let 
the  rules  be  revised  by  their  friends  and 
beneficiaries,  to-morrow,  next  day,  by  and 
by;  busy  to-day,  stockholders'  meeting,  divi- 


238  The  Come  On 

dend  declared,  good-by!  You1  re  virtually 
peons.  Fourth  of  July,  elections  and  war 
times  you're  the  sovereign  people,  Tommy 
this  and  Tommy-rot;  but  for  all  practical 
purposes  you're  peons. 

"We're  rich,  we  can  afford  a  scratch-my- 
back-and-I'll-scratch-yours  tariff  that  keeps 
our  prices  up  arbitrarily,  that  takes  fifty 
dollars  out  of  your  pockets  to  put  in  ours 
for  every  dollar  it  puts  into  the  national 
treasury." 

"If  the  tariff  was  repealed,"  said  Steve 
diffidently,  "if  we  raised  money  for  the 
National  Government,  just  as  we  do  for 
county  government " 

"Hush-sh!"  said  Mitchell,  shocked. 
"That's  High  Treason — that's  Unconstitu 
tional  !  Some  one  will  hear  you !  Then 
there's  another.  You  sell  at  a  sacrifice  to 
pay  your  debts.  If  we  get  in  debt  that's  ex 
actly  what  we  won't  do.  A  poor  man  goes 


The  Come  On  239 

broke,  but  a  rich  man  goes  bankrupt.     Ever 
think  of  that? 

"That  baby  I  spoke  of  will  grow  up,  pro 
duce  corn,  cotton,  cattle  or  copper,  maybe — - 
but  the  net  result  of  his  life  will  be  to  enrich 
the  rich.  If,  by  any  means — industry,  op 
portunity,  invention,  speculation,  dishonesty, 
chance  or  inheritance — he  gets  on  top,  then 
the  workers  will  be  working  for  him  by  the 
same  law.  The  fact  remains  that  every  dol 
lar's  worth  of  betterment  in  the  country  in 
creases  the  value  of  city  property  one  dol 
lar,  without  effort  to  the  owner.  A  city  is 
an  artesian  well.  Take  it  from  me,  Thomp 
son,  a  man  of  your  ability  ought  to  make 
connections  and  get  your  little  tin  pail  un 
der." 


Chapter  V 

"A  man  so  various  that  he  seemed  to  be 
Not  one,  but  all  mankind's  epitome." 

THOMPSON  sat  in  his  room  alone, 
meditating  on  Mitchell,  statesman  and 
Political  Economist.  On  the  table  lay  his 
letter  of  introduction  and  his  bad  "Souvenir" 
dollar. 

"The  meeting  will  please  come  to  order!" 
he  said,  rapping  the  table  smartly.  "The 
Gentleman  from  Montana  has  the  floor." 

"I  move  you,  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  the 
Gentleman  from  Montana,  "that  the  letter 
of  introduction  be  laid  upon  the  table,  and 
that  this  House  do  now  go  into  Committee 
of  putting  the  other  fellows  in  the  Hole." 

No  objection  being  heard,  this  was  done. 
Steve  stared  at  the  tabled  letter  with  a  puz- 

; 

zled  frown. 

240 


The  Come  On  241: 

"Gentlemen,  the  Chair  awaits  your  pleas 
ure,"  he  announced,  at  last.  "Have  you  any 
suggestions  to  make?" 

The  Gentleman  from  Montana  again  ob 
tained  recognition. 

"Mr.  Speaker,  I  see  here  present  an  exy 
member,  my  alter  ego,  Mr.  Reuben  Rubber- 
Neck,  who  once  parted  with  six  months' 
wages  on  another  man's  game.  Mr.  Rub 
ber-Neck  is  a  graduate  of  the  celebrated  and 
expensive  school  of  Experience,  of  which  it 
is  written  that  a  large  and  influential  class 
will  learn  of  no  other.  As  an  ex-Member, 
he  is  entitled  to  the  privilege  of  the  floor.  I, 
for  one,  would  like  to  have  his  counsels  at 
this  juncture." 

Thus  appealed  to,  Mr.  Rubber-Neck  got 
stumblingly  to  his  feet  with  a  gawky  and 
timid  demeanor. 

"Mr.  Chairman,  it  is  not  a  theory  but  a 
hell  of  a  condition  that  confronts  us,"  he 


242  The  Come  On 

said,  uncertainly.  "I  think  that  we  should 
use  the  letter  so  providentially  er — um — 
provided  to  make  friends  with  the  mammon 
of  righteousness.  Two  heads  are  proverbi 
ally  better  than  one,  if  one  is  an  Expert. 
It  behooves  us,  for  the  sake  of  the  near  and 
dear  kinsmen,  the  Mark  brothers,  that  we 
should  so  bear  ourselves  toward  our  gener 
ous  hosts  as  to  make  them  feel  that  they 
have  entertained  a  devil  unawares.  Avenge 
now  the  innumerable  wrongs  of  me  and  my 
likes.  Before  deciding  on  our  line  of  action, 
however,  I  should  like  to  hear  from  a 
learned  gentleman  in  our  midst,  whose  brain 
is  ever  fertile  in  expedients.  I  refer  to  the 
only  one  of  us  who  has  been  through  college 
— in  at  the  front  door  and  out  the  back.  I 
call  on  the  representative  of  the  class  of 
Naughty-naughty !" 

He   sat  down   amid  vociferous   cries  of 
"Hear!     Hear!" 


The  Come  On  243 

The  Bookman  arose  gracefully.  "While 
I  thank  the  gentleman  who  has  preceded  me 
for  his  encomiums,"  he  said,  with  depreca 
tory  modesty,  "yet  I  can  lay  no  claim  for 
scholastic  honors,  owing  to  an  unfortunate 
difference  of  opinion  with  the  Faculty  in  the 
scorching  question  of  turning  state's  evidence 
concerning  the  ebullition  of  class  feeling,  in 
which  I  was  implicated  by  a  black  eye  or  so. 

I  fought  the  good  fight,  I  kept  the  faith,  but 

i 

I  did  not  finish  my  course.     But  to  return 
to  our  sheep. 

"In  every  crisis,  I  have  always  found 
precedent  for  action  in  the  words  of  the 
immortal  Swan  of  Avon.  What  does  Will 
say?  He  says: 

'Put  monetf  in  thy  purse!' 

"Follows  naturally  the  advice  of  the  mel 
ancholy  Dane,  bearing  directly  on  the  case 
in  hand : 


244  The  Come  On 

'Let  It  work. 

'For  'tis  the  sport  to  see  the  engineer- 
Hoist  with  his  own  petard' 

:"  Again, 

'Look  on  this  picture,  then  on  that! 
The  counterfeit.' 

" Where  is  that  counterfeit,  anyhow?'*  He 
took  from  his  pocket  a  good  silver  dollar, 
compared  it  thoughtfully  with  the  bad  one 
on  the  table,  and  continued. 

"What  else?    Why,  this: 

'Art  thou  not  horribly  afeared?  .  .  .  Could  the 
world  pick  thee  three  such  enemies  again  as  that 
fend  Douglas,  that  spirit  Percy,  and  that  devil 
Glendowerf 

"Having  thus  pointed  out  the  danger,  he 
plainly  indicates  the  remedy: 

'Where  shall  I  find  one  that  will  steal  well?  Of 
for  a  fine  thief  of  the  age  of  two-or-three  and 
twenty!  I  am  heinously  unprovided.' 


The  Come  On  245 

"Gentlemen,  in  my  opinion  we  need  three 
things.  First,  the  services  of  a  skillful  and 
discreet  silversmith.  Second,  a  pair  of  eye 
glasses  fitted  with  a  powerful  microscopic 
lens,  able  to  distinguish  good  from  evil. 
Third,  a  confederate  who  can  steal  well, 
such  as  we  can  doubtless  find  in  or  about 
Broad  Street.  By  these  simple  and  feasible 
means  we  shall  be  enabled  to  whip-saw  our 
redoubtable  opponents  or,  to  use  the  local 
term,  'give  'em  the  double-cross.' ' 

He  sat  down  amid  boisterous  applause. 

"The  Watch-dog  of  the  Treasury!"  said 
Steve  icily.  The  Watch-dog  stood  apologeti 
cally,  twisting  nervous  fingers  together.  "It 
strikes  me,  Mr.  Speaker,"  he  stammered, 
"that  my  eminent  colleague  might  aptly  have 
quoted  from  the  same  high  authority  two 
maxims  in  praise  of  prudence,  discretion 
is  the  better  part  of  valor,'  he  says,  and  also, 


246  The  Come  On 

'He  who  fights  and  runs  away 
Will  live  to  fight  another  day? 

"It  appears  to  me  the  part  of  pru 
dence " 

Here  he  was  howled  down  by  disapprov 
ing  groans. 

"The  Chair  will  take  great  pleasure  in 
recognizing  the  Gentleman  from  New  Mex 
ico,"  suggested  Steve,  with  a  gracious  nod. 

Wildcat  Thompson,  cowboy,  sprang  to  his 
feet;  lithe,  active,  eager.  Swiftness,  alert 
ness,  poise,  certainty  were  in  every  line  of  his 
splendid  body.  His  was  the  assured,  re 
sourceful  bearing  of  the  man  of  action, 
whose  hands  have  kept  his  head,  contrasting 
sharply  with  the  Miner's  heavy  and  tenta 
tive  slowness,  the  awkward  self-conscious 
ness  of  the  Easy  One,  the  Objector's  furtive 
and  apprehensive  manner,  or  the  Near-Col 
legian's  languid  affectation  of  dilettantism. 

"Be  a  sport!"    He  threw  out  a  hand,  his 


The  Come  On  247 

confident  voice  ringing  with  decision.  "We 
are  seven! — (or  at  least  we  will  be  when  we 
pick  up  a  financier  at  Atwood's).  Get  to 
gether!  Let  us  adopt  our  learned  brother's 
ingenious  device.  Should  fraud  fail,  we  can. 
always  fall  back  on • 

'the  simple  plan 

That  each  should  take  who  hath  the  power 
And  he  should  keep  that  can.' 

"As  alternative,  or,  I  should  say,  as  re 
serve,  I  offer — this!"  A  swift  gleam  of 
silver  and  steel:  he  laid  a  cocked  .45  beside 
the  other  exhibits. 

"The  sword  of  Brennus!  Woe  to  the 
vanquished!"  murmured  the  School-man, 
when  the  cheering  had  abated.  "Mr.  Chair 
man,  the  amendment  is  accepted." 

The  entire  meeting  then  lit  a  cigarette. 

The  Chair  arose,  using  the  six-shooter  as 
gavel.  "Gentlemen,  have  you  anything  more 


248  The  Come  On 

to  offer?  If  not  will  you  hear  the  question? 
Is  it  the  sense  of  this  meeting  that  united 
we  fall  upon  this  infamous  coalition  with 
the  jaw  bone  of  an  ass  and  get  their  money; 
dishonestly  if  we  can,  and  if  not,  then  by 
main  strength  and  awkwardness?  Those  in 
favor  of  the  motion  will  please  rise.  I  am 
unanimous,  and  it  is  so  ordered.  This  reso 
lution  will  be  spread  all  over  the  minutes, 
right  off.  The  Chair  will  appoint  as  com 
mittee  to  get  a  move  on,  Mr.  Stephen 
Thompson  of  Montana;  the  earnest  Shake 
spearian  student,  Mr.  Thompson-Stephen; 
Mr.  Wildcat  Thompson  of  New  Mexico; 
and  myself.  Having  no  further  use  for  a 
sucker  or  a  quitter,  the  other  two  gentlemen 
may  go  to  the  devil,  and  I  hereby  stand  ad 
journed." 

So  saying,  he  gathered  up  his  resources 
and  departed. 


The  Come  On  249 

At  a  later  hour  Steve  presented  himself 
in  a  body  to  the  senior  Atwood,  with  his  let 
ter  from  the  Judge  as  credentials. 

''Bless  my  soul!"  ejaculated  that  person, 
when  he  had  read  a  few  lines.  His  eyes 
dropped  to  the  signature.  "Oh — the 
Judge!"  he  said,  enlightened,  and  read  on, 
chuckling. 

He  wheeled  his  chair  around.  "Well, 
Mr.  Thompson,  what  is  it — fine  or  bail?" 
he  queried. 

"I  want  to  borrow  a  man,"  Steve  began 
mildly.  Here  he  was  interrupted.  The 
ante-room  door  opened.  One  entered — no, 
floated  in — faultlessly  arrayed,  with  an  air 
at  once  languid  and  gloomy. 

"Wyatt!"  said  Atwood,  cordially.  "Man! 
You're  good  for  sore  eyes !  What  fair  wind 
blows  you  here?" 

Wyatt  sank  into  a  chair.  "Doldwums. 
Nothing  at  all,"  he  said  listlessly.  "Mewest 


250  The  Come  On 

chawnce,  I  assuah  you.  Fawct  is,  I  was — er 
• — howwidly  boahed,  y'  know.  It's  no  good. 
All  of  it!"  He  spread  out  his  immaculate 
pink  palm  in  a  comprehensive  gesture.  "All 
wot ! — Dinnahs  and  dawnces  and  bwidge,  the 
hawse-show — and — ah — all  the  west  of  it. 
— Vahnity  fawr,  y'  know.  If  you  have  what- 
evah  you  want  diwectly,  of  cow'se  you  cawnt 
want  anything  you  daunt  have,  y'  know. 
Doocid  unpleasant.  I  find  myself  like  the 
boy  that  wanted  to  leah'n  to  shivah  and 
shake,  y1  know.  Needin'  the  excitement  of 
what  this  fellah — ah — at  Washington,  y' 
know — PToosevelt! — of  what  Woosevelt 
calls  the  stwenuous  life.  Saht  in  the  club 
thinkin'  it  ovah,  and  decided  to  sally  fowth 
to  seek  adventuah " 

"Adventure !  You  ?"  Atwood  threw  baclc 
his  head  and  roared. 

" — adventuah.  In  a  hansom,"  returned 
the  new-comer  placidly.  "So  the  dwivah 


The  Come  On  251 

ahsked  me  'Whah  to?'  y'  know.  I  was  feel- 
in'  nawsty  enough,  so  I  told  him  'To 
pwugatowy!' — like  that!  He  was — ah — a 
vewy  litewal-minded  puhson."  There  was  a 
faint  flicker  of  amusement  in  his  gray  eyes. 
"He — ah — bwought  me  to  the  Stock  Ex 
change.  Aftah  I  got  out,  y'  know,  I  we- 
membahed  that  you — ah — did  something 
heah.  So  I  thought  I'd  just  wun  ovah  and 
see  you."  He  relapsed  into  moody  silence. 

"YouVe  come  to  the  right  shop,  I  do  be 
lieve/'  said  Atwood.  "Mr.  Thompson,  let 
me  make  you  acquainted  with  my  old  friend 
Wyatt." 

"Chawmed,  I'm  suah!"  muttered  Wyatt, 
adjusting  his  monocle. 

"You  have  probably  heard  of  him,"  pur 
sued  Atwood.  "He  appears  regularly  in 
the  Sunday  Supplements  as  a  Horrible  Ex 
ample — Anson  Walworth  Wyatt,  nephew  to 
his  uncle.  But  for  all  he  seems  such  a  silly, 


252  The  Come  On 

supercilious  ass,  he's  a  good  old  chap  at 
heart,  a  'weal'  lion  in  an  ass-skin.  Mr. 
Thompson,  have  I  permission  to  share  this 
letter  with  my  friend?" 

"Why  not?"  said  Steve. 

"This  is  a  Western  man's  business  letter," 
explained  Atwood.  The  clubman  listened 
with  a  well-bred  stony  stare. 

"Aw!"  he  said.  "How  vewy  extwaohdi- 
nawy!" 

"Now,  old  fellow,  Mr.  Thompson  was 
just  about  to  negotiate  the  loan  of  a  man 
from  me  when  you  came.  Here  we  have 
the  adventure  seeking  the  man,  and  the  man 
seeking  the  adventure.  It  sounds  promising. 
Of  course,  I  shall  expect  a  commission  both 
ways.  Now  give  us  your  plans  and  specifi 
cations,  Mr.  Thompson." 

"I  want  to  borrow  a  young  man,  as  I  said 
before,  of  good  appearance" — with  a  glance 
at  Wyatt's  sumptuous  apparel — "and  some 


The  Come  On  253 

little  brains" — another  and  a  sharper  glance. 
"One  who  will  obey  orders  if  he  breaks  own 
ers,  who  will  stand  without  being  tied,  and 
who  doesn't  especially  care  whether  school 
keeps  or  not.  I  would  particularly  request 
that  he  leave  his  money,  his  memory,  ac 
quired  good  habits,  if  any,  and  his  con 
science,  in  your  safe -keeping  till  he  is  re 
turned." 

"That  sounds  like  the  makings  of  a  pretty 
adventure,  Wyatt,"  said  Atwood,  delighted. 
"Are  you  for  loan,  old  chap?" 

Wyatt  laid  his  affectation  aside.  "That 
depends  on  the  interest,  the  security,  and 
length  of  the  term.  It  certainly  appears,  from 
your  very  flattering  description,  that  you 
were  searching  for  me,  Mr.  Thompson." 
His  eyes  were  dancing. 

"Interest  from  the  word  Go.  The  secur 
ity's  all  right,  too,  if  you  take  a  gun,"  said 
Steve  reassuringly.  "You  might  get  a  long 


254  The  Come  On 

term,  but  it  can  be  avoided  with  luck  and 
good  management.  I  think  the  parties  con 
cerned  will  hardly  make  a  complaint." 

"You  are  not  contemplating  anything  il 
legal,  I  trust?"  Atwood  was  enjoying  him 
self  to  the  full. 

"I  don't  know.  Really  hadn't  given  it 
much  attention,"  returned  the  Committee, 
simply.  "But  now  you  mention  it,  I  think 
probably  I  am." 

"Will  you  allow  my  accomplice  and  myself 
to  use  your  private  room  for  executive  ses 
sion?"  asked  Wyatt. 

•  •••*•* 

"But  why  don't  you  have  them  arrested?" 

"Arrested?  O  no!"  cried  Steve,  in  pained 
surprise.  "That  wouldn't  be  fair.  That 
isn't  done!  Besides,  don't  you  see,  that 
wouldn't  hurt  their  feelings  like  this?" 

"I  see,"  said  Wyatt.  "I'm  your  man. 
And  I  say,  old  chap,  before  I  go  back  to  my 


The  Come  On  255 

Cholly-talk  again,  advise  me.  Would  I  look 
any  more  idiotic,  do  you  think,  if  I  should 
suck  my  cane?  I  don't  want  to  disappoint 


any  one 


"I  would  not,"  said  Steve.     "You're  too 
good  to  be  true,  without  that." 

"Wouldn't  you  naturally  suppose,"  sighed 
Wyatt,  "that  people  would  know  that  no 
man  could  be  as  big  a  fool  as  I  am,  unless 
he  did  it  on  purpose?  But  they  don't.  They, 
swallow  it,  hook,  bob  and  sinker!" 


Chapter  VI 

"If  the  bowl  had  been  stronger 
My  tale  had  been  longer" 

STEVE  entered  Mitchell's  office  with  the 
painful  uprightness  and  precise  carriage 
of  one  who  has  lunched  not  wisely  but  rather 
too  well.  His  speech,  too,  was  of  ponder 
ous  brevity.  The  man  of  affairs  chided  him 
with  fatherly  kindness. 

"This  won't  do,  my  boy — this  won't  do. 
I  like  you,  Thompson.  I'm  sorry — I'm 
pained  to  see  this.  Don't  go  in  for  this  sort 
of  thing,  or  your  good  fortune  will  prove 
a  curse  in  disguise." 

Steve  hung  his  head,  muttering  something 
incoherent  about  not  being  used  to  wine  and 
that  he'd  soon  get  over  it. 
256 


The  Come  On  257 

"Oh,  young  men  will  be  young  men,  I  sup 
pose,"  sighed  Mitchell  tolerantly.  "Tell  you 
what.  Archibald's  going  for  a  spin  over  to 
East  New  York.  I'll  just  'phone  him  to 
drop  by  on  his  way  and  take  us  along.  Fresh 
air'll  do  you  good." 

Steve  assented,  and  fell  to  poring  over  the 
immense  wall  map  of  New  York  with  pre 
ternatural  gravity. 

But  Mitchell's  benevolent  plan  was 
doomed  to  be  frustrated.  Hardly  had 
Archibald  arrived  and  the  employees  been 
dismissed,  when  the  sordid,  busy,  money- 
making  city  intruded  in  the  person  of  Loring. 

There  were  merry  greetings  all  around. 
The  artist  was  much  pleased  to  renew  his 
acquaintance  with  Thompson,  to  whom  he 
had  taken  a  fancy.  Loring,  it  seemed,  was 
an  old  friend  of  Archibald's  and  was 
promptly  invited  to  make  one  of  the  party. 

"Oh,  I  can't,"  demurred  Loring.    "And  I 


258  The  Come  On 

hate  to  spoil  sport,  but  I've  got  a  good  thing 
which  must  be  put  through  to-night  or  not 
at  all.  I  ran  in  to  get  Mitchell  to  handle  it 
for  me.  IVe  got  the  opportunity,  but  not 
the  wherewithal."  He  made  the  candid  ad 
mission  with  a  delightful  smile. 

"I  fear  that  you  are  leaning  on  a  mighty 
nearly  broken  reed,"  said  Mitchell.  "I'm  all 
tied  up  in  money  matters  this  week.  But  spit 
it  out,  anyhow.  I've  got  six  or  seven  thou 
sand  loose.  If  it's  more  than  that  perhaps 
Archie  can  swing  it — if  it's  a  safe  proposi 


tion." 


"Safe  as  United  States  bonds,  and  good 
for  thirty  per  cent,  profit.  Come  back, 
Thompson!"  Steve  was  making  for  the 
cloor,  with  apologies.  "You're  not  in  the 
way  a  bit.  Sit  down,  man!  Your  six  thou 
sand  won't  be  a  starter,  Joe.  I've  got  some 
four  thousand  myself,  in  red,  red  gold.  All 
I  have  in  the  world — wish  it  was  more."  His 


The  Come  On  259 

blithe  insouciance  was  irresistibly  charming. 

"Get  down  to  business,  old  fellow,"  said 
Archibald.  " What's  the  lay?" 

"This  is  all  confidential,  between  gentle 
men,  you  understand?"  All  nodded.  "You 
know  young  Post  is  in  hiding?  Well,  I've 
been  in  touch  with  him  all  along.  He's  tired 
of  skulking  and  wants  me  to  sell  that  house 
his  mother  left  him,  strictly  on  the  Q.  T. 
He's  got  a  chance  to  slip  away  on  a  private 
yacht  to-night.  Said  I  could  have  all  I  could 
get  over  thirty  thousand.  It's  worth  fifty, 
at  least.  I  know  where  I  could  get  forty- 
five,  but  I  dare  not  approach  those  people 
now,  because  they  are  unfriendly  to  Post 
and  would  make  him  trouble.  Once  he  is 
safely  away "  He  waved  his  hand. 

"That  ought  to  be  a  good  thing,"  said 
Archibald  thoughtfully.  "It  rents  for  six 
thousand  a  year,  and  values  going  up.  I've 
a  good  mind  to  go  into  it  for  a  permanent 


260  The  Come  On 

investment.  Let's  see — he'd  want  spot  cash, 
wouldn't  he?" 

"Naturally.  Cash  on  the  nail.  He  could 
hardly  afford  to  be  identified,  you  know." 

""Can't  raise  that  much  to-day,"  said  the 
shipowner.  "Maybe,  by  borrowing  from 
my  partner,  I  could  get  enough  to  pool  with 
you  and  Mitchell.  What's  your  proposi 
tion?  About  cutting  profits,  I  mean." 

"I  think  I  should  have  ten  per  cent,  net, 
besides  the  proportionate  earning  of  my 
four  thousand — for  giving  you  fellows  the 
first  chance.  There's  plenty  would  jump 
at  it." 

"That's  fair  enough,"  said  Archibald. 
"Mr.  Thompson,  you  will  excuse  us?  Our 
trip  will  only  be  postponed.  I'll  have  to  fly 
around  to  rustle  ready  money.  I'll  see 
Bowring  first." 

"Hold  on,"  said  Mitchell.     "Why  don't 


The  Come  On  261' 

you  let  my  friend  in  on  this?  He's  got  the 
scads,  and  he's  a  good  fellow." 

"Oh,  he  would  have  to  go  and  see  the 
place,"  objected  Archibald,  his  eye  evident 
ly  on  the  main  chance. 

"No,  he  won't.  We  looked  it  over  yes 
terday.  I  showed  it  to  him  because  I  used 
to  live  there.  Don't  be  selfish,  Archie. 
There's  plenty  of  chances  for  you  to  make 
money.  Get  your  pail,  Thompson!" 

"We-11,"  said  Archibald  grudgingly.  "So 
long  as  it's  not  sure  that  Bowring  can  spare 
me  the  money,  let  him  take  over  a  third  if 
he  wants  to." 

"Sure  I  do,"  grinned  the  prospective  buy 
er,  highly  elated,  "and  much  obliged  to  you, 
too,  Mr.  Archibald. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  that  person  gruff 
ly.  "Now  then,  Loring,  come  out  of  it! 
Time's  flying.  Where?  When?  How? 


262  The  Come  On 

Never  saw  an  artist  yet  that  could  think  on 
straight  lines,"  he  grumbled. 

"All  of  you  get  your  money,  meet  at 
Mitchell's  rooms.  I'll  let  Post  know  and 
join  you  there  later.  We'll  wait  till  dark, 
get  a  tried  and  acquitted  notary  of  my  ac 
quaintance,  slip  around  to  Post's  lair  after 
dark  and  do  the  deed.  I'll  stand  a  ripping 
dinner  for  the  bunch  out  of  my  ten  per  cent. 
Put  deed  on  record  to-morrow  morning. 
That'll  give  him  start  enough.  Is  that  all 
clear?" 

"Clear  as  a  bell.  I'm  off!"  said  Archi 
bald. 

"Archie's  a  good  sort,  but  he  does  hate  to 
let  a  dollar  get  by  him."  The  artist  laughed 
indulgently.  "I  say,  Thompson,  did  you  see 
how  he  stuck  on  letting  you  have  a  whack  at 
it?" 

"Where  do  you  bank?"  inquired  MitchelL 
Steve  told  him  where  his  money  was  depose 


The  Come  On  263 

ited.  Mitchell  shook  his  head.  "I  was 
hoping  we  would  go  the  same  way,  but  I 
go  uptown." 

Ten  minutes  after  they  left  the  industri 
ous  bookkeeper  returned  with  navvies  and 
draymen,  and  removed  the  office  furniture 
to  parts  unknown. 

When  the  four  financiers  got  together  in 
Mitchell's  room  Steve  proposed  to  continue 
his  lessons  in  the  fascinating  game  of  bridge. 

He  drank  freely  and  his  game  was  the 
apotheosis  of  bumble-puppy.  Archibald,  his 
partner,  was  much  irritated  by  his  stupidity. 

A  bellboy  came  to  the  door.  A  gentle 
man  in  the  parlor  would  like  to  see  Mr. 
Thompson. 

Mr.  Thompson  looked  at  the  card.  "Mr. 
3V.  W.  Wyatt,"  he  announced  sneeringly. 
"You  can  tell  Mr.  A.  W.  Wyatt,  if  he  wants 


264  The  Come  On 

to  see  me,  he  can  just  naturally  mosey  him 
self  up  here." 

"Not  the  A.  W.  Wyatt— Anson  Wai- 
worth  Wyatt?"  asked  Loring.  "I  know 
him — I  mean,  I  know  him  by  sight." 

"I  believe  it  is,"  said  Steve  with  surly  in 
difference.  "If  you  know  him,  you  know 
an  overbearing  jabberwock.  He's  head 
devil  of  the  push  that  bought  the  Copper- 
bottom  and  I  don't  like  his  style  even  a  lit 
tle  bit.  He  seems  to  think  I'm  the  dirt  under 
his  feet.  I'll  show  him.  7  know  what  he 
wants,  and  that's  the  other  fourth  of  my 
mine."  He  thumped  the  table  viciously. 
"He'll  pay  for  all  he  gets  from  mey  I'll  tell 
you  that." 

Mr.  Wyatt  was  ushered  in;  irreproach 
able,  flawless,  exquisite.  ("It's  him!" 
breathed  Loring.)  He  remained  standing, 
hat  in  hand,  fitted  his  glass  with  vacuous 
care  and  surveyed  the  room  with  deliberate- 


The  Come  On  265 

ly  insolent  scrutiny.  Thompson  kept  his 
seat,  fairly  prickling  with  antagonism.  The 
others  rose  with  exemplary  good  breeding. 

"Aw!"  said  the  newcomer,  after  an  elo 
quent  pause.  "Mistah — er — Townsend, 
cawn  I  have  a  few  moments  of  quite  pwi- 
vate  convehsation  with  you?" 

"No,  you  cawnt!"  retorted  Thompson 
truculently.  "Sit  down,  boys,  Sit  down,  I 
say!  These  gentlemen  are  my  friends. 
Anything  you  got  to  say?  If  there  is,  say 
it.  And  my  name's  Thompson,  if  you 
please." 

"Aw! — what  an  extwemely  wemahkable 
ahttitude !"  Wyatt  fixed  his  monocle  on  the 
offending  miner  with  bland  and  exasperat 
ing  condescension.  "Weally,  you  quite  in- 
tewest  me,  y'  know!  I  appwoach  you,  quite 
civilly,  y*  know,  with  an  offah  decidedly  to 
youah  ahdvahntage,  Mistah — ah — Tomlin- 
son,  and  you  tweat  it " 


266  The  Come  On 

"Thompson!!  By  Heavens,  you  say  Tom- 
linson  again  and  I'll  pound  your  face  into* 
shape!"  roared  the  misnamed  one,  jumping 
up.  Mitchell  and  Loring  vainly  tried  to 
quiet  him. 

"Weally,  I  shall  be  obwiged  to  wefeh  you 
to  my  lawyehs "  Wyatt  began. 

"Refer  me — you  animated  outrage — you 
libel !  Turn  me  loose,  you  fellows  I  /  don't 
want  to  see  you  or  your  durn  lawyers!  I 
know  what  you  want,  well  enough.  You 
want  to  bamboozle  me  into  selling  my  in 
terest  in  the  Copper-bottom  for  less  than 
it's  worth.  Here's  my  last  word  to  you — 
Mr. — ah — White  I  If  you  want  my  fourth 
at  forty  thousand,  to-day,  all  right.  It's 
worth  more — it's  paid  from  the  grass-roots 
down.  But  that'll  make  me  the  round  six 
figures,  and  that's  enough.  7  can  make 
money — /  know  my  little  way  about,"  he 
boasted,  with  insufferable  complacency. 


The  Come  On  267 

"Nobody  left  me  my  pile!  Put  up  or  shut 
up!" 

"Mr.  Wyatt,"  said  Mitchell,  "pardon 
me,  but  may  I  suggest  that  you  call  at  a 
more  favorable  time?"  He  made,  behind 
Thompson's  back,  the  motion  significant  of 
an  emptied  glass. 

"Aw!  I  see — I  see!  Thawnks  awfully 
for  the  hint.  Good-evening,  gentlemen — 
and — ah — Mistah  Tomkins !" 

Thompson  broke  away,  shaking  his  fist  in 
Wyatt's  face.  "Say  that  again  and  I'll 
brain  you — pawdon  me,  I  should  say,  I'll 
smash  your  head  in.  Thompson's  my  name 
— T-h-o-m-p-s-o-n,  Thompson!  And 
you  trade  with  me,  now  or  never !" 

"You  see,  gentlemen?"  Wyatt  appealed. 
"Mistah — ah — Tawmson,  I  offahed  you 
twenty-five  thousand  on  my  own  wesponsi- 
bility,  as  a — ah — business  pwoposition.  My 
< — ah — associawates  in  this  undehtaking  aw 


268  The  Come  On 

all  fwiends,  quite  congenwial,  y'  know,  and 
I  felt  suah  they  would  sanction  that.  I  do 
not  cyah  to  go  futheh  lengths  without — ah 
— a  confewence  with  them,  as  I  believe  that 
pwice  quite  ahmple,  y'  know.  But  if  I  could 
awwange  fo'  an  option " 

"You  pay  me  twenty  thousand,  cash,  in 
this  room,  at  eight  o'clock  to-night,  and  I'll 
give  you  an  option  for  one  week  at  forty 
thousand,"  persisted  the  morose  miner. 
"After  that,  the  price  goes  up." 

"Fifty  pehcentum  down  on  an  option  I 
This  is  uttehly  unpwecedented,  y'  know.  I 
must  wemonstwate,  weally!" 

"It's  all  the  option  you'll  get  from  me, 
you  jackanapes."  He  snapped  contemptu 
ous  fingers  under  Wyatt's  nose. 

Wyatt  buttoned  his  coat  with  dignity. 
"Weally,  this  pahsses  all  bounds !"  he  ejacu 
lated.  "Gentlemen,  I  accept  this — ah — 
puhson's  offeh.  I  cannot  enduah  such  an 


The  Come  On  269 

associwate.  You  ah  all  witnesses.  May  I 
ahsk  you-ah  names,  and  may  I  wequest 
youah  pwesence  to-night,  both  to  ensuah  the 
— ar — fulfillment  of  the  vehbal  contwact 
which  you  have  heahd,  and  to  pwevent  the 
wepetition  of  this  scandalous  scene?"  He 
opened  the  door.  "Aw  wevoah,  gentle 
men  !"  By  this  time  he  was  in  the  elevator. 
From  this  coign  of  vantage  he  sent  a  Parth 
ian  shaft. 

"Till  eight  o'clock,  Mistah — ah — Tom- 
kinson!" 

The  three  held  the  raging  Thompson 
with  some  mutual  dishevelment.  They 
soothed  him  with  flattery,  stayed  him  with 
flagons,  for  he  yearned  for  blood  with  a 
great  yearning. 

"Listen  to  your  friends,  boy,"  urged 
Mitchell.  "Take  his  money,  and  don't  do 
anything  you'll  be  sorry  for.  Make  out 
your  papers  and  pay  no  attention  to  what 


270  The  Come  On 

he  says.  Come,  brace  up!  It'll  be  time 
for  dinner  in  a  jiffy.  Promise  us  not  to 
drink  any  more,  and  not  to  make  any  trou 
ble,  or  we'll  'phone  him  not  to  come." 

Steve  allowed  himself  to  be  pacified  at 
last,  but  he  regarded  his  mitigators  with  a 
malignant  eye. 

"Here's  what  I  owe  you  on  bridge, 
Mitchell — twenty-three  dollars,"  he  said 
sullenly.  "Archibald  can  settle  with  Loring. 
I  don't  want  no  dinner — I'm  going  to 
sleep." 

"Oh,  come  on  now,  that's  a  good  fellow," 
purred  Mitchell,  picking  up  the  two  bills 
and  the  coins.  "Say,  old  man — you  haven't 
turned  counterfeiter,  have  you?"  he  said 
good-naturedly.  "This  one's  N.  G." 

Steve  took  it  clumsily.  "It's  no  such 
thing,"  he  blurted.  "Good  as  gold.  Take 
it  or  leave  it.  I  don't  care." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Mitchell,  humoring 


The  Come  On  271 

him.  Then  he  reflected.  The  indications 
were  that  their  projected  coup  might  fail  if 
Steve's  surly  humor  kept  up.  Why  not  im 
prove  the  shining  hour?  The  coin  was  ob 
viously  bad. 

"I'll  take  it  before  it  gets  you  into  trou 
ble,"  he  insinuated. 

Steve  lurched  to  his  feet,  thrusting  an  un- 
decorative  face  over  the  table.  "You  think 
it's  bad?"  he  queried  darkly.  "You  think 
I'm  a  fool?"  He  flung  a  packet  of  bills  on 
the  table.  "Cover  that,  if  you  dare,"  he 
said.  "There's  the  money  for  the  Post 
place — ten  thousand  dollars.  It  says  that's 
a  good  dollar.  Put  up  or  shut  up!" 

"You'll  lose  your  money!"  warned 
Mitchell.  "Then  you'll  say  I  took  advan 
tage  of  you." 

"I  know  what  you  think,"  said  Steve 
shrewdly.  "You  think  I'm  drunk,  but  I'm 
not.  /  know  a  good  thing  when  I  see  it. 


272  The  Come  On 

Don't  you — don't  you  lose  no  sleep  about 
me.  I'm — I'm  all  right,  you  bet!  Now 
what'll  you  do  or  take  water?"  he  fleered. 

Surreptitiously  Loring  had  tried  the  coin 
with  his  penknife  during  this  controversy. 
The  metal  was  quite  soft — the  knife  left  a 
great  scar,  which  he  flashed  at  Mitchell. 

"Well — if  you  insist,"  said  Mitchell  re 
luctantly.  He  counted  out  ten  one-thousand- 
dollar  bills.  "Who'll  be  the  judge?" 

"Anybody.  Archie.  I've  got  you  skinned 
a  mile  anyway." 

"I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Thompson,"  said  Archi 
bald,  "but  this  dollar  seems  to  be  pewter, 
or  something  of  that  general  description. 
Aw,  give  him  back  his  money,  Mitchell — 
he's  drinking. 

"I  won't!"  said  Mitchell  stubbornly. 
"He  forced  me  into  it.  He  wouldn't  have 
given  it  back  to  me  if  I'd  lost." 

"Sure  I  wouldn't,"  assented  Steve.     "I'm 


The  Come  On  273 

no  boy.  /  play  for  keeps,  me.  Don't  be  so 
fast,  if  you  please.  This  money  ain't  won 
yet.  Cut  into  that  dollar!  I  was  from 
Missouri  before  ever  I  saw  Montana." 

"Cut  it,  Loring,"  said  Mitchell.  "Show; 
him!" 

Loring  scratched  it  with  the  penknife 
point.  "You  see?  soft  as  cheese — rotten," 
he  said.  And  then  the  knife  struck  some 
thing  hard.  A  chill  crept  over  him.  Stu 
pefied,  he  scraped  the  base  metal  back,  re 
vealing  a  portion  of  an  irrefutably  good 
dollar. 

The  dismayed  rascals  looked  up.  In 
Thompson's  hand  a  large,  businesslike  gun 
wavered  portentously  from  one  head  to  the 
other. 

"Go  on!"  he  admonished.  His  tone  was 
not  particularly  pleasant.  "Peel  her  off! 
Yah!  You  puling  infants!  You  cheap, 
trading-stamp  crooks!"  He  raked  off  the 


274  The  Come  On 

money.  "Be  tran-tranquil !  You  doddering 
idiots,  I'd  shoot  your  heads  off  for  two  bits! 
Try  to  rob  a  countryman,  will  you?  Why, 
gentle  shepherds  all,  I've  been  on  to  such 
curves  as  yours  ever  since  Hec  was  a  pup ! 
You  and  your  scout  Loring  and  your  Bick- 
ford  and  your  Post!"  he  scoffed.  "Don't 
open  your  heads.  Bah!  Here,  you 
skunks!"  He  threw  an  ostentatiously  bad 
dollar  on  the  table.  "Take  that,  and  break 
even  if  you  can.  That  patronizing  half- 
baked  tailor's  dummy  that  called  me  out  of 
my  name  will  be  back  bimeby,  with  his 
pockets  full.  I'd  like  to  see  him  taken  down 
a  peg,  but  I  dassent  spoil  the  sale  of  my 
mine.  Tell  him  I'm  in  bed,  full,  but'll  be 
out  in  an  hour  or  so.  He'll  come  again  to 
buy  me  out.  Hates  me  like  poison,  he  does. 
If  you  can  get  him  to  bite,  go  it!  But  I 
doubt  if  you'll  find  even  that  saphead  as 
rank  as  you  three  wise  guys.  Anyway,  I 


The  Come  On  275 

don't  want  to  see  him  while  I  feel  this  way. 
My  head  aches,  and  I  suppose  there's  some 
sort  of  law  against  shooting  the  likes  of 
him — or  you.  I'm  leavin'  for  another  ho 
tel,  right  now.  Don't  you  fellows  bother 
me  if  you  value  your  hides.  If  you  can  skin 
that  puppy,  why,  sic  'em,  Towse !  and  the 
devil  take  the  hindmost!  Oh,  you  Smart 
Alecks!" 

He  backed  out  with  a  traditional  wiggle 
of  his  fingers. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  stringent 
regulations  of  the  postal  authorities  will  not 
permit  us  any  report  of  the  heart-to-heart 
talk  that  followed  his  departure,  other  than 
the  baldest  summary.  It  was  marked  by 
earnestness,  sincerity,  even  by  some  petu 
lance,  interspersed  with  frank  and  spirited 
repartee.  Mutual  recrimination  resulted. 

Subdued  and  chastened,  Mr.  Mitchell  was 
reduced  to  the  ranks;  Loring,  by  virtue  of 


276  The  Come  On 

his  own  and  Mitchell's  vote,  replacing  him. 
Archibald's  preference  was  for  a  third  per 
son  still — namely,  himself — and  he  acqui 
esced  with  ill  grace. 

They  had  but  little  over  ten  thousand  dol 
lars  remaining  for  the  return  match;  and 
this,  as  Loring  pointed  out  with  just  indig 
nation,  would  only  put  them  even.  They 
knew  that  Wyatt  would  have  at  least  twice 
that  much  with  him.  So  they  scurried  forth 
and  made  such  good  use  of  the  scant  time 
left  them,  by  borrowing,  by  squeezing  both 
Bickford  and  the  hard-working  bookkeeper, 
and  by  resource  to  certain  nest-eggs  laid  by 
for  case  of  extreme  urgency  (known  among 
themselves  as  "fix  money"),  they  scraped 
together  some  six  thousand  more.  The 
"ripping"  dinner  went  untasted.  They  were 
hardened,  but  human. 

All  ravages  of  carking  care  were 
smoothed  away,  and  they  were  disposed  in 


The  Come  On  277 

luxuriant  and  contented  ease  when  Wyatt 
came. 

"Aw,  gentlemen,  I  am  punctual,  you  see  1" 
he  announced  gayly.  "It  is  weally  vewy 
kind  of  you  to  be  so  obliging — I'm  suah.  Is 
the — ah — mining  puhson  in?" 

Mr.  Loring,  speaking  for  the  trio,  affably 
regretted  that  their  young  friend  was  not, 
in  fact,  at  his  best  during  Mr.  Wyatt' s  pre 
vious  call.  They  had  remonstrated  with 
him  for  his  injurious  conduct.  At  present 
he  was  sleeping  off  the  effects  of  his  slight 
exhilaration:  they  thought  it  would  not  be 
at  all  judicious  to  disturb  him:  they  felt 
sure  that,  on  awakening,  he  would  prove 
amenable  to  reason.  Meanwhile,  the  night 
was  young;  if  Mr.  Wyatt  cared  to  join  them 
in  a  friendly  rubber  they  would  be  delighted. 

"Chawmed,  I'm  suahl"  said  Wyatt.  "I 
do  not  desiah  any  contwovewsy  with  that 
vewy  wuffianly  puhson  while  he  is — ah — 


278  The  Come  On 

wuffled.  So  I  shall  wait  and  shall  be  happy 
to  join  you." 

The  score  was  close;  it  was  only  through 
ingenious  manipulation  by  their  opponents 
that  Wyatt  and  his  partner  were  forced  to 
win  a  small  sum. 

"Weally,  gentlemen,"  drawled  Wyatt, 
looking  at  his  watch,  "I  shall  be  fowced  to 
leave  you.  I  have  an  engagement  at  eleven, 
and  I  weally  feah  ouah  Mr.  Townshend  will 
be,  as  I  might  say,  hors  de  combat  foh  the 
night.  I  have  to  thawnk  you  fow  a  vewy 
agweeable  evening,  nevahtheless." 

He  was  carelessly  sweeping  the  money  in 
to  his  pocket  when  Mitchell,  his  partner, 
checked  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  is  that  not  a  bad 
dollar?"  he  said. 

"Oh,  no  mattah — no  consequence  at  all,  I 
assuah  you,"  said  Wyatt  liberally.  He 
would  have  pocketed  the  piece,  but  Loring, 


The  Come  On  279 

who  had  paid  it,  gave  him  another,  and 
flung  the  slighted  coin  over  to  Mitchell. 

"If  you're  so  set  on  this  dollar  being 
bad,"  he  said  angrily,  "I'll  bet  you  what  you 
dare  it's  not  bad." 

"Done  with  you  for  twenty!"  Mitchell 
covered  it  promptly. 

Loring  drew  out  a  handful  of  bills. 
"Here  you  are.  Any  one  else  want  any  of 
this?"  he  inquired  captiously. 

Archibald  shook  his  head  and  laughed. 
Wyatt  screwed  his  monocle  into  his  eye,  re 
garded  both  sides  of  the  coin  attentively,  and 
laid  it  down. 

"Quite  bad,  I  assuah  you,"  he  said.  "I 
should  pwonounce  it  about  the  wohst  speci 
men  extahnt." 

"Maybe  you'd  like  to  bet  on  it?"  said 
Loring,  flaunting  the  big  bills. 

Wyatt  was  evidently  nettled.  "Weally, 
you  aw  wong — I  assuah  you,"  he  said  stiffly. 


280  The  Come  On 

"If  you  aw — pawdon  me — quite  able  to  lose 
that  money  without — ah — inconvenience  I  am 
weady  to  covah  it,  at  least,  as  fah  as  what 
I  have  with  me  goes." 

"Done!"  said  Loring.  This  was  not  so 
bad,  after  all. 

"How  much?  .  .  .  Aw!  Seventeen  thou 
sand.  Exactly.  The  bet  is  made,  gentlemen. 
I — ah — propose  that  we  wing  the  bell  foh 
the  pwopwietah  and,  shahl  we  say,  the  clahk, 
to  act  as  judge  and  stakeholdeh." 

"That  will  be  satisfactory,"  said  Loring. 
"Allow  me,  in  turn,  to  make  a  suggestion, 
Mr.  Wyatt.  Put  the  money  in  your  bill- 
book,  hand  it  to  the  stakeholder,  and  let  him 
give  it,  unopened,  to  the  winner.  Of  course, 
you  will  first  take  out  your  other  money. 
There  is  no  heed  for  them  to  know  that 
more  than  a  trivial  sum  is  at  stake.  We  do 
not  want  to  court  unpleasant  notoriety." 


The  Come  On  28 1, 

"Quite  twue!  An  excellent  suggestion," 
said  Wyatt  gravely.  He  proceeded  to  put 
it  in  effect. 

The  summoned  dignitaries  arrived,  the 
situation  was  explained,  and  Wyatt,  handing 
the  money  to  the  proprietor  and  the  ques 
tionable  dollar  to  the  clerk,  requested  judg 
ment. 

The  clerk  looked  at  the  coin,  rubbed  it, 
rang  it.  It  gave  out  a  dull  and  leaden  sound. 

"Bad,  beyond  a  doubt,"  he  said. 

"Try  it  with  your  knife,"  said  Loring 
confidently. 

The  clerk  complied.  By  mischance  he 
bore  on  too  hard.  The  knife  went  through 
to  the  table. 

>A  sound  of  mirth  swept  to  them.  With 
horror  frozen  on  their  faces,  the  three  ras 
cals  were  aware  of  Thompson,  leaning  in 
the  doorway — unmistakably  sober,  given 


282  The  Come  On 

up   to    reprehensible   levity,    holding   out    a 
bright  tin  pail  with  an  expectant  air. 

Let  us  give  even  the  devil  his  due.     For 
Mitchell  laughed. 


THE   END 


ZANE  GREY'S  NOVELS 

May  be  imd  wherever  books  are  sold.        Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list 

THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

A  New  York  society  girl  buys  a  ranch  which  becomes<  the  center  of  frontier  war 
fare.  >  Her  loyal  superintendent  rescues  her  when  she  is  captured  by  bandits.  A 
Surprising-  climax  brings  the  story  to  a  delightful  close. 

THE  RAINBOW  TRAIL 

The  story  of  a  young:  clergyman  who  becomes  a  wanderer  in  the  great  western  I 
aplands— until  at  last  love  and  faith  awake. 

DESERT  GOLD 

The  story  describes  the  recent  uprising1  along1  the  border,  and  ends  with  the  finding1 
of  the  gold  which  two  prospectors  had  willed  to  the  girl  who  is  the  story's  heroine. 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

A  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago  when  Mormon  authority 
tuled.  The  prosecution  of  Jane  Withersteen  is  the  theme  of  the  story. 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 

lais  is  the  record  of  a  trip  which  the  author  took  with  Buffalo  Jones,  known  as  the 
preserver  of  the  American  bison,  across  the  Arizona  desert  and  of  a  hunt  in  "that 
wonderful  country  of  d^ep  canons  and  giant  pines." 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

A  lovely  girl,  who  has  been  reared  among1  Mormons,  learns  to  love  a  young1  New 
Englander.  The  Mormon  religion,  however,  demands  that  the  girl  shall  become 
the  second  wife  of  one  of  the  Mormons — Well,  that's  the  problem  of  this  great  story. 

THE  SHORT  STOP 

The  young1  hero,  tiring-  of  his  factory  grind,  starts  out  to  win  fame  and  fortune  as 
a  professional  ball  player.  His  hard  knocks  at  the  start  are  followed  by  such  success 
as  clean  sportsmanship,  courage  and  honesty  ought  to  win. 

BETTY^ZANE 

This  story  tells  of  the  bravery  and  heroism  of  Betty,  the  beautiful  young  sister  of 
old  Colonel  Zane,  one  of  the  bravest  pioneers. 

THE  LONE  STAR  RANGER 

After  killing  a  man  in  self  defense,  Buck  Diiane  becomes  an  outlaw  along  the 
Texas  border.  In  a  camp  on  the  Mexican  side  of  the  river,  he  finds  a  young  girl  held 
prisoner,  and  in  attempting  to  rescue  her,  brings  down  upon  himself  the  wrath  of  her 
captors  and  henceforth  is  hunted  on  one  side  by  honest  men,  on  the  other  by  outlaws. 

THE  BORDER  LEGION 

Joan  Randle,  in  a  spirit  of  anger,  sent  Jim  Cleve  out  to  a  lawless  Western  mining 
camp,  to  prove  his  mettle.  Then  realizing  that  she  loved  him— she  followed  him  out. 
On  her  way,  she  is  captured  by  a  bandit  band,  and  trouble  begins  when  she  shoots 
Kells,  the  leader— and  nurses  him  to  health  again.  Here  enters  another  romance — 
when  Joan,  disguised  as  an  outlaw,  observes  Jim,  in  the  throes  of  dissipation.  A  gold 
strike,  a  thrilling  robbery— gambling  and  gun  play  carry  you  along  breathlessly. 

THE   LAST  OF  THE  GREAT"SCOUTS, 

By  Helen  Cody  Wetmore  and  Zane  Grey 

The  life  story  of  Colonel  William  F.  Cody,  "  Buffalo  Bill,"  as  told  by  his  sister  and 
Zane  Grey.  It  begins  with  his  boyhood  in  Iowa  and  his  first  encounter  with  an  In 
dian.  We  see  "  Bill"  as  a  pony  express  rider,  then  near  Fort  humter  as  Chief  of 
the  Scouts,  and  later  engaged  in  the  most  dangerous  Indian  campaigns.  There*0 
also  a  very  interesting  account  of  the  travels  of  "The  Wild  We?f "  Show.  No  char 
acter  In  public  life  makes  a  stronger  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  America  than 
"  Buffalo  Bill,"  whose  daring  and  bravery  made  him  famous. __ 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,         PUBLISHERS,         NEW  YORK 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

MARY  ROBERTS    RINEHART 

Maylje  had  wherever  books  are  sold.    Ask  for  Srosset  ft  Dunlap'<  list. 

"K."     Illustrated. 

K.  LeMoyne,  famous  surgeon,  drops  out  of  the  world  that 
has  known  him,  and  goes  to  live  in  a  little  town  where 
beautiful  Sidney  Page  lives.  She  is  in  training  to  become  a 
nurse.  The  joys  and  troubles  of  their  young  love  are  told 
with  that  keen  and  sympathetic  appreciation  which  has 
made  the  author  famous. 

THE  MAN  IN  LOWER  TEN. 

Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 

An  absorbing  detective  story  woven  around  the  mysteri 
ous  death  of  the  "Man  in  Lower  Ten."  The  strongest 
elements  of  Mrs.  Rinehart's  success  are  found  in  this  book. 

WHEN  A  MAN  MARRIES. 

Illustrated  by  Harrison  Fisher  and  Mayo  Bunker. 

A  young  artist,  whose  wife  had  recently  divorced  him; 
finds  that  his  aunt  is  soon  to  visit  him.  The  aunt,  who 
contribute  to  the  family  income  and  who  has  never  seen 
the  wife,  knows  nothing  of  the  domestic  upheaval.  How 
the  young  man  met  the  situation  is  humorously  and  most 
entertainingly  told. 

THE  CIRCULAR  STAIRCASE.     Hhw.  by  Leeter  Ralph 

The  summer  occupants  of  "Sunnyside"  find  the  dead 
body  of  Arnold  Armstrong,  the  son  of  the  owner,  on  the  cir 
cular  staircase.  Following  the  murder  a  bank  failure  is  an 
nounced.  Around  these  two  events  is  woven  a  plot  ot 
absorbing  interest. 

THE  STREET  OF  SEVEN  STARS.  - 

Illustrated  (Photo  Play  Edition.) 

Harmony  Wells,  studying  hi  Vienna  to  be  a  great  vlo« 
linist,  suddenly  realizes  that  her  money  is  almost  gone.  She 
meets  a  young  ambitious  doctor  who  offers  her  chivalry  and 
sympathy,  and  together  with  world- worn  Dr.  Anna  and 
Jimmie,  the  wai/,  they  share  their  love  and  slender  means. 

QROSSET  &  DUNLAP,        PUBLISHERS,        NEW  YORK 


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LD  21-100m-7,'40  (6936s) 


Rhodes,  Eugene  M. 


R46 

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