Stranleigh paused in his recital. He noticed a stealthy movement among

the bunkers. He had observed that the first to sit up cast a longing

glance at the rifles stacked in the corner, and it seemed to him that

a simultaneous rush towards them was going to take place.

"As you know, gentlemen," he went on, "I have an objection to shooting

as a settlement of any legal question, but if shooting has to be done, I

am quite prepared for it, and the inhabitants of Bleachers will regret

provoking me to a fusilade."

He took from his pocket the neat little automatic pistol.

"I don't suppose," he went on, "that you ever saw anything exactly like

this. It will simply rain bullets, and I can re-load before any of those

Bleachers men can get his hand to his hip pocket. Next to the Maxim gun,

it's the most deadly object in existence." Casually he cast his eye

along the bunks. Each man had withdrawn the leg that had been quietly

reaching for the floor. Stranleigh still fondled his weapon.

"Just before you captured me, I had sent to New York for a considerable

sum of money, which was to reach me by express. I thought it better to

have no dealings with the bank, as I didn't wish Ricketts to learn what

I was doing. I expect that sum of money is at this moment resting in

the express office, and on the day of the sale I shall have more

currency on my person than is perhaps quite safe to carry. I therefore

wish to engage you as a bodyguard, if you agree to certain conditions. I

shall expect you all in Bleachers day after to-morrow, and shall pay

each of you fifty dollars for the day, and so that there may be no

mistake, I tender you the money now. Do you agree?"

"What are the conditions?" asked Jim, cautiously.

"First, you will keep clear of the tavern, and not drink."

"That's easy. What next?"

"You will not shoot until I give the word of command, and until I have

emptied my pistol."

Jim consulted with his fellows, then turned to Stranleigh.

"We agree," he said.

"Right you are." Stranleigh rose, took from his pocket-book six

fifty-dollar bills, and laid them on the table.

"Look here," cried Dean, "we don't want any money for this job."

"I'm quite sure of that, but six honest men are as much entitled to

their pay as is a dishonest lawyer like Ricketts. So good-bye, until I

see you at Bleachers day after to-morrow."

Stranleigh went down to the house, mounted his horse, and rode away.

He had accomplished little more than half the distance when he perceived

a horseman coming towards him. They approached one another with some

caution. Stranleigh would have passed in silence had not the other

accosted him.

"Hello, stranger!" he said. "You from the ranch?"

"Yes."

"Been stopping there?"

"Yes."

"How's everything? Folks all well?"

"Yes; they were when I left. Is there any chance that you are Mr.

Armstrong?"

"That's my name."

"I'm very glad to meet you, sir. I'm Stranleigh, who telegraphed the

detective to find you and hand you two hundred dollars, begging you to

get home in a hurry."

"Well, Mr. Stranleigh, all that was done, and here I am, but as for

paying back that two hundred dollars and expenses, I don't see how I am

to do it. I'm broke."

"So I understand. Do you know your place is to be disposed of by forced

sale day after to-morrow?"

"Yes; they've got me with my hands up."

"I don't think so. I'm going to attend that sale, and probably our

friend Ricketts will regret the fact. Now, you turn your horse round and

accompany me to the settlement. I've got some money coming by express,

and being rather a stupid sort of person, it never occurred to me until

half an hour ago that I'd need to be identified before I got my hands on

that express package. So if you'll take my word that I am Stranleigh,

we'll collar the currency and attend the sale. I have a letter of

introduction to you from Mr. Banks, of New York, but I left it at your

house."

"That's all right. I'll go surety that you're the man. I'd like mighty

well to see a little money, even if it belongs to another fellow."

Armstrong turned his horse, who was not loth to set his face in the

other direction, because he belonged to White's Tavern. As the two men

jogged along together, Stranleigh explained the situation. Armstrong was

silent for some time, evidently in a state of dejection.

"Well, Mr. Stranleigh," he said at last, "as you know, I am quite

helpless. I haven't a cent to bless myself nor curse an enemy with. I'm

no good as a business man, and the slick way in which those rascals in

Chicago separated me from what cash I had would make you laugh at me if

you knew how it was done."

"I shouldn't be inclined to laugh. We read in Scripture of the man who

fell among thieves, and I imagine Chicago is a good place to find such

cattle, although I believe there are a few of them further west. I think

that Ricketts, in refusing the money when it was offered to him,

exceeded his legal rights."

"Our sharpers out here," said Armstrong, "are always exceeding their

legal rights, but they get rich all the same. I confess I haven't so

much dependence on legality as a law-abiding citizen should have."

"Your men on the ranch seem to hold the same opinion. In spite of all I

could say, they were determined to make a raid on Bleachers."

"Did you manage to stop them?" enquired Armstrong eagerly.

"I think I did," was the reply.

There had been a flash of hope in Armstrong's eyes, but it now died down

to dejection again.

"I am sorry for that," he said.

Stranleigh gazed at him in astonishment.

"You don't mean to say that you approve of such violence?"

"Oh, well," said Armstrong nonchalantly, "when a man's in a corner,

he'll do most anything, and at such times a little gun play is not out

of place. I'll bet the boys would have stopped that sale."

"Doubtless, but what good would that do?"

"We should gain breathing space, and perhaps Ricketts wouldn't go on

with his villainy."

"But it would land all your men in gaol."

"Don't you believe it. The sheriff would have to catch the boys first,

and they know every ravine and stream and gully in the mountains, and

every trail in the woods, and if Ricketts was sacrificed in the

scrimmage, I, for one, wouldn't be chief mourner. These boys might not

be much good in Chicago, but they are very useful out here. A scoundrel

like Ricketts, who tries legally to steal a man's property, takes big

chances and runs a lot of risks, and no one knows that better than

himself. He has taken advantage of my being away from home."

"It's not too late yet to carry out your plan. Although your men hold to

their resolve to visit Bleachers on the day of the sale, they have

promised not to shoot until I give the word of command."

"They will be there, then, after all?" cried Armstrong, eagerly.

"Certainly; I have engaged them as bodyguard, because, as I told you, I

shall have a considerable sum of money in my possession, and I don't

wish to be detached from that cash, either by Chicago methods, or those

of Bleachers. I want the sale to go on without any disturbance."

"What's your plan?"

"I intend to buy the ranch."

"Do you imagine for a moment that you'll be allowed to?"

"How can they prevent me if I've got the cash in my pocket?"

"Why, first thing they'll do is to postpone the sale."

"Has Ricketts power to do that?"

"No; but the sheriff has, and the sheriff is Ricketts' man."

"Official bribery, eh? Are you personally acquainted with the sheriff?"

"Yes; I voted for him."

"Is he a man who would rather do right than wrong?"

"It depends how much money there is in either course."

"Then I think our path is reasonably clear. If Ricketts can bribe him to

do wrong, we can bribe him to do right."

Armstrong shook his head doubtfully.

"It's not so easy as you think. He would take our money all right, but

he might not deliver the goods. He wouldn't stay bought."

"That is a useful thing to know. We'll pay him half the money cash down,

and the other half when he _has_ delivered the goods. Would a hundred

dollars be sufficient?"

"Oh, lord, yes! It gives Ricketts a pain when he parts with a ten-dollar

bill, so it won't take very much money to compete with him."

"As you know the man, and as it's your ranch that is in jeopardy, you

can carry out the negotiations better than a stranger like myself."

"That's so; if I have the cash. A hundred dollars would turn the trick."

"Better take five hundred dollars and be sure of it."

They stopped their horses and made the transfer of money where they

stood, as being safer than in the tavern.

Arriving at Bleachers, they found the express office closed for the

night, but next day his lordship, with Armstrong as his identifier,

secured the package.

The land sale took place in the Agricultural Hall, the largest building

in town. Stanley Armstrong's six armed followers arrived in good time,

and quite unobtrusively seated themselves in a row on a bench at the

rear of the hall. When Stranleigh, accompanied by Armstrong, came in,

the half dozen shook hands with their chief, and expressed no more

surprise at meeting him than if he had left them the week before. Large

as the hall was, it speedily filled up, but Lawyer Ricketts, on

entering, as he cast his eye over the assemblage, knew there were few

moneyed men among the crowd gathered there, and so anticipated no

serious opposition when the bidding began.

The lawyer was accompanied by two friends; strangers in Bleachers,

who took their places beside him on the chairs provided near the

auctioneer's desk. Ricketts was an important man, and quite entitled to

reserved seats for himself and his friends. Last of all the sheriff

entered, and mounted the platform, bowing graciously to the meeting,

which was composed of constituents whose votes he would need next year.

It was quite evident that the sheriff was a popular man, for there was a

round of applause the moment he appeared.

He got down to business without any unnecessary loss of time, reading

the documents giving the conditions of the sale, the item on which

Stranleigh was relying being that no cheques would be accepted,

or credit allowed. Payment must be cash down on the fall of the

auctioneer's gavel. This the clever lawyer had insisted upon, to

prevent all possibility of his being outbid by someone who desired

time for payment. Thus he dug a pit for his own undoing.

Having finished this reading, the sheriff took a sip from the glass

supposed to hold water, and promptly began--

"You all know the property, gentlemen, so I need not detain you by any

lengthy description of it. How much am I offered for Armstrong's ranch?"

"Three thousand dollars," said Ricketts.

"Five thousand," promptly outbid the Earl of Stranleigh.

There was a buzz of interest in the crowd, as if some one had stirred up

a nest of bees. They had not expected competition. Ricketts stood up and

scrutinised the numerous faces turned towards him, endeavouring to

discover from whom the bid came. Then he sat down, and whispered to

each of the men beside him. They nodded, and one of them stole quietly

out through the door by which the sheriff had entered.

"He's gone for more money," said Stranleigh quietly to Armstrong.

"Five thousand dollars I am bid," went on the sheriff. "Is there any

advance on five thousand dollars?"

His gavel hovered over the table.

"Six thousand," said Ricketts.

"Ten thousand," offered Stranleigh, realising that his opponent was

playing for time.

"Ten thousand dollars!" echoed the sheriff, then, glancing at the

lawyer; "It's against you, Mr. Ricketts."

The lawyer hesitated.

"Eleven thousand!" he said at last.

"Fifteen thousand," bid Stranleigh, promptly.

There were two anxious men in that hall. Stranleigh was wishing he had

sent for a hundred thousand dollars. It was evident that Ricketts

possessed good backing, but he had no means of knowing whether or not

these men had the necessary money actually in hand. Ricketts was the

second anxious man, and he was now gazing with apprehension at the door

through which his companion had disappeared. He was called to attention

by the strident voice of the sheriff.

"Fifteen thousand dollars is the last bid. Going at fifteen thousand

once; going at fifteen thousand twice----"

"Wait a moment, Mr. Sheriff: there's no hurry."

"The sale must go on, Mr. Ricketts."

"Certainly," replied the lawyer, "but it's your duty to get as much

as you can for the property. We all sympathise very much with our

neighbour, Mr. Armstrong, and whatever is paid over and above his debt

to me, goes to him."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Ricketts, and your compassion for Mr. Armstrong

does you credit. Still, as I have said before, the sale must go on, and

unless there is another bid, I am compelled to knock the property down

to the last offer. Fifteen thousand dollars I am bid, and for the third

time----"

"Sixteen thousand," cried Ricketts, taking out a handkerchief, and

mopping his brow.

The missing man now re-appeared, and took his place beside the lawyer.

The three heads came closer together, and Stranleigh watched them with

half-closed eyes, apparently indifferent.

"The bid is against you, sir," said the Sheriff. "By the way, what name,

please?"

"Stranleigh."

"Well, Mr. Stranleigh, I'm waiting for your bid."

"Don't wait any longer, Mr. Sheriff. I'm anxious to know how much money

Mr. Ricketts possesses at the present moment. The ranch belongs to him

if he can hand over to you sixteen thousand dollars."

Down came the gavel on the table.

"Mr. Ricketts, the ranch is yours."

Mr. Ricketts rose to his feet.

"I ask for a postponement of this sale for a week from to-day."

"I have no objection," said the Sheriff, "as of course I shall earn

another fee."

There was a laugh at this, then the Sheriff continued--

"But I cannot postpone the sale without the consent of Mr. Stranleigh.

What do you say, Mr. Stranleigh?"

"A postponement would be very inconvenient to me, much as I should like

to oblige Mr. Ricketts. I therefore refuse my consent."

"If the Sheriff is willing," roared Ricketts, "we will postpone without

your consent, even if we have to turn you out by force."

"I shouldn't try that if I were you, Mr. Ricketts. There are six friends

of mine sitting beside me, who are dead shots, and I don't think this

crowd would stand in the way if the first gun were levelled at you. I

ask that the sale go peacefully on, Mr. Sheriff."

"There must be a postponement! The Sheriff has control over this

meeting!"

"I am counting on that," said Stranleigh, "and I am sure that the

Sheriff will adhere strictly to the law. How much money have you

collected, Mr. Ricketts?"

"That's none of your business."

"Perhaps not; and so to make everything easy and agreeable to all

concerned, I bid seventeen thousand dollars for the property."

"Show your money," demanded Ricketts.

"You wouldn't show yours, so why should I show mine?"

"Knock it down to him, Sheriff. I don't believe he has the cash."

"Seventeen thousand I am offered. Going at seventeen thousand once;

going at seventeen thousand twice; going at seventeen thousand third

and last time. Going! Gone!"

Down came the mallet.

"I shall be obliged if you will hand over to me seventeen thousand

dollars, Mr. Stranleigh."

"Certainly. With your permission, gentlemen!" and the crowd parted

good-naturedly. Stranleigh counted out the money on the Sheriff's table.

Armstrong and his men went home directly the sale was over, but

Stranleigh remained until all the legal business was finished, and the

documents were in his possession. As he rode back to the ranch, he

meditated upon the situation in which he found himself. The object of

his trip to the West had been achieved. He had left New York tired of

its noise, its heated pavements and other uncomfortable disadvantages.

He had thought he would never care to see the metropolis again, but now

he was yearning for the atmosphere of a large city; London for choice.

He determined to bid farewell at once to the Armstrongs and the bunk

house men, then turn his face eastwards.

Miss Armstrong was amazed to learn his decision.

"But you haven't had even one day's shooting!" she protested.

"Oh, I'll come for that another time," he assured her.

"Before you go away, my father would like to make some arrangement with

you about this ranch."

"I shall be very glad to come to an agreement with him."

The girl sped up to the silver mine, where her father was superintending

the removal of the dynamite to its proper place, a job requiring some

little care. Armstrong accompanied his daughter down to the house, and

greeted Stranleigh with eagerness.

"I am anxious to lease this place from you, Mr. Stranleigh, with the

option of buying it later on. I am sure I can make money from the silver

mine."

"You must apply to the owner of the ranch, Mr. Armstrong."

"The owner!" echoed Armstrong, in some alarm. "You haven't sold the

ranch since I saw you, I hope?"

"No; but like most other men, I am in debt, and I intend to use this

property in payment of my obligation."

Armstrong was taken aback by this declaration. Turning to Miss

Armstrong, Stranleigh took from his pocket a long, well-filled envelope.

"These, Professor, are all the legal documents necessary to make you the

owner of the ranch, including deed and what-not. I am quite incapable of

understanding the red tape wound round the transaction, but I am assured

it is all right. I tender this in payment of my medical bill."

"Oh," cried the girl, softly. Then she smiled. "As the sensational plays

have it, this is too much!"

"Not a bit of it," returned Stranleigh. "You have no idea of the

appalling charges made by specialists in New York and London. Besides,

this includes payment of Jim's bill. You cured Jim's ear as well as my

shoulder, and I am responsible for Jim. His ear is the only shooting I

have had since I came to the ranch."

The girl again began to protest, but Stranleigh interrupted.

"As you are so loth to receive the property, I shall burden it with some

conditions. Your father will ask you to mortgage this land to raise

money for him. You must refuse that. Keep the ranch in your own name.

You have just seen how much trouble has been caused by Ricketts getting

his claws on the place. Your father has got, or will get, something

between ten and twelve thousand dollars from the proceeds of the sale.

Will you put that money into your daughter's hands, Mr. Armstrong?"

"I suppose I'll have to if you say so," rather grudgingly conceded the

rancher.

"Yes; I say so, because she is a good business woman. Now, Miss

Armstrong, you own the ranch, and with this money at your disposal, you

should be able to prove conclusively whether there is profitable ore in

that mine. When you are ready to demonstrate that fact, write to me, and

I'll get together the capital you need for the energetic development of

the mine. And now I must be off. Will you bid good-bye for me to my

friends, the bunk house men?"

"Certainly; where shall I write to you when there is news of the mine to

send?"

"Mr. Banks of New York always has my address."

The girl held forward her hand.

"Good-bye to you, Lord Stranleigh of Wychwood," she said.

For the first time in his life, his lordship neglected to take the

proffered hand of a lady.

"Are you making a guess, or stating a certainty, Miss Armstrong?"

"I guess it's a certainty. I saw in a New York paper that Earl

Stranleigh of Wychwood was coming into this district to shoot. Then from

Jim's ear I unbound a handkerchief with a crest and a monogram on it."

Stranleigh laughed, and took the hand still outstretched to him.

THE END.

WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON.

Ward, Lock & Co.'s POPULAR FICTION

A. E. W. MASON

LAWRENCE CLAVERING.

A remarkably powerful and stirring historical romance, full of life and

movement.

STANLEY WEYMAN

MY LADY ROTHA.

A Romance of the Thirty Years' War

THE SATURDAY REVIEW.--"No one who begins will lay it down before the

end, it is so extremely well carried on from adventure to adventure."

EDEN PHILLPOTTS

THE LOVERS.

A brilliant tale of love and adventure. A true Phillpotts in every

respect, and should rank high among his works.

THE MOTHER.

THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"This is Mr. Phillpotts' best book. Whatever may

be the value of some fiction, it will do every man and woman good to

read this book. Its perusal should leave the reader in a higher air."

H. RIDER HAGGARD

AYESHA.

THE COURT JOURNAL.--"A stupendous effort of imagination, and provides a

narrative as enthralling and as realistic as anything Mr. Haggard has

written."

KEBLE HOWARD

ONE OF THE FAMILY.

EVENING STANDARD.--"We are again indebted to Mr. Keble Howard for giving

us a most amusing and cleverly written book."

S. R. CROCKETT

JOAN OF THE SWORD HAND.

THE DAILY MAIL.--"A triumph of cheery, resolute narration. The story

goes along like a wave, and the reader with it."

STRONG MAC.

THE MORNING POST.--"So vividly is the story told that it often reads

like a narrative of things that have actually happened."

LITTLE ESSON.

THE SCARBOROUGH POST.--"One of the most popular of Mr. Crockett's books

since 'Lilac Sunbonnet.'"

MAX PEMBERTON

PRO PATRIA.

THE LIVERPOOL MERCURY.--"A fine and distinguished piece of imaginative

writing; one that should shed a new lustre upon the clever author of

'Kronstadt.'"

CHRISTINE OF THE HILLS.

THE DAILY MAIL.--"Assuredly he has never written anything more fresh,

more simple, more alluring, or more artistically perfect."

A GENTLEMAN'S GENTLEMAN.

THE DAILY CHRONICLE.--"This is very much the best book Mr. Pemberton has

so far given us."

THE GOLD WOLF.

ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS.--"From the beginning Mr. Pemberton weaves his

romance with such skill that the tangled skein remains for long

unravelled."

THE LODESTAR.

THE STANDARD.--"It impresses us as an exceedingly poignant and effective

story, true to real life. Written with cleverness and charm."

WHITE WALLS.

THE LADY.--"A melodrama cleverly imagined, written in the author's

happiest and most spirited style, and well illustrated by Maurice

Greiffenhagen."

LEILA AND HER LOVER.

Shows the author in his most romantic and emotional manner.

ROBERT BARR

LORD STRANLEIGH, PHILANTHROPIST.

THE MANCHESTER COURIER.--"Mr. Barr's spirits never flag, his stories

have all point, and one may recommend the latest exploits of Lord

Stranleigh as being as amusing as ever."

LORD STRANLEIGH ABROAD.

The last adventures of one of the breeziest and most notable characters

in modern fiction.

JUSTUS MILES FORMAN

THE ISLAND OF ENCHANTMENT.

MADAME.--"Rather should this delightful volume have been titled 'The

Book of Enchantment.'"

THE UNKNOWN LADY.

OBSERVER.--"This is the best work its author has ever attempted or

achieved. There is charm in every line of it."

BIANCA'S DAUGHTER.

THE ATHENAEUM.--"Mr. Forman is one of the most distinctively romantic

writers of to-day. He has a fund of fine sympathy."

JOURNEY'S END.

THE COURT JOURNAL.--"Surprisingly fresh, abounding in touches of

observation and sentiment."

MONSIGNY: THE SOUL OF GOLD.

THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"The novel is admirable, the idea is very cleverly

worked out, and the book is worthy of much praise."

THE GARDEN OF LIES.

THE DAILY NEWS.--"This novel is far in advance of anything that Mr.

Forman has hitherto accomplished. 'The Garden of Lies' belongs to that

class of story which touches the heart from the first. It is a real

romance, full of vigour and a clean, healthy life."

TOMMY CARTERET.

THE DAILY CHRONICLE.--"This is a fine book, thoroughly fine from start

to finish."

BUCHANAN'S WIFE.

THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"'Buchanan's Wife' may be regarded as another

success for an already successful author."

A MODERN ULYSSES.

PEOPLE'S SATURDAY JOURNAL.--"Full of exciting incidents handled in a

bright, crisp style."

THE QUEST.

WORLD.--"'The Quest' is every whit as good as its author's best known

story, 'The Garden of Lies.'"

THE COURT OF THE ANGELS.

THE ATHENAEUM.--"A gay, light-hearted, and pleasantly discursive book."

THE HARVEST MOON.

THE STANDARD.--"Mr. Forman is an accomplished writer of romance, as he

has shown us on many previous occasions, and once again he holds us with

his spell."

THE OPENING DOOR.

One of the best stories Justus Miles Forman has written since "The

Garden of Lies."

E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

FALSE EVIDENCE.

WESTERN MAIL.--"One takes up a story by Mr. E. Phillips Oppenheim with

the certainty of enjoyment, and the reader is never disappointed."

THE POSTMASTER OF MARKET DEIGNTON.

FREEMAN'S JOURNAL.--"Mr. Oppenheim's undoubted genius for clever

construction and guarding his secret was never better shown than in this

story."

THE PEER AND THE WOMAN.

Lord Stranleigh Abroad · 第 11 / 13 段