The ruddy face of the sheriff was wreathed in benignant smiles as he sat
in the office of the Tramworth House. Cameron was standing by the stove,
his hands spread to the warmth. He had just come in from the Knoll in
answer to a message from the sheriff.
"Whew! but it's howlin' cold. Three foot of snow and more comin'. What
you doin'--keepin' house?"
"Yes," replied the sheriff. "Bill's gone over to Hike's for a minute."
Cameron rubbed his ear gingerly, then lapsed into frowning silence as
the sheriff told him why he had sent for him.
"That's _one_ way of lookin' at it, Scotty," he said presently, "but it
ain't accordin' to law."
"What is the law in such a case, Jim?"
Cameron's frown deepened. "To my thinkin'--it's jail."
"That's all right--but how would you go at it to prove to a Tramworth
jury that he put Injun Pete up to it?"
"There's them three ca'tridges--and me."
"Do you think there's a jury up here would send Fisty down on that
evidence?"
"I dunno--why not?"
"Well, I'll tell you, Jim. They'd be afraid of Fisty's friends, for one
thing. Ross is an outsider, and there's always a bunch glad to see an
outsider get the worst of it. Besides, Fisty isn't worth spending the
money on to convict. He's all in, and I'm going to prove it to you. But
here comes Bill," he said, as the clerk entered. "We'll go up to my
room."
"Now," continued the sheriff, as he closed the door of his
sanctum-sanctorum above, "I'm going to hand it to you straight."
Cameron, astride a chair, tilted back and forth expectantly.
"In the first place, Jim, you haven't got anything against Fisty but the
shooting, have you?"
"Nope--ain't got no scrap with him aside of that."
"All you're itching for is to see justice administered, isn't it?" The
sheriff's eyes twinkled in a preternaturally grave face.
"That's it!" Cameron's chair thumped to the floor.
"And now that Barney Axel's over in Canada, you'd be the chief witness
for the State?"
"That's me."
"And that's why you want to see Fisty on trial." Cameron's hand was
raised in expostulation, but the sheriff continued hurriedly. "I thought
so. Now, Jim, there's more ways than one of straightening a man out, and
the law isn't always the best or surest way. I've found out that."
"What you goin' to do?" asked Cameron, forgetting for the moment his
explanation that the other had interrupted.
"Well," said the sheriff, glancing at his watch, "if you can stand it
for about ten minutes I think I can show you. How's Ross getting on at
Lost Farm?"
"Great! Got the sidin' in to the asbestuff, and everything snug fur
winter. He's trappin' with Hoss now. Say! and he's done more than
that,"--Cameron paused that his news might have due effect,--"he's
a-goin' to marry Swickey Avery--him! as learned her her readin' and
writin'. That's what me and the missus has figured, from the way
Swickey's actin' of late."
"Why not? Swickey's a mighty fine girl and mighty pretty, too."
"Yes. But what I jest told you was privit calc'latin'--but seein' as
you're a officer of the law, I guess it's O.K."
"Well, I'm glad of it. We need men like Ross up here. When are they
going to get married?"
"I dunno. In the spring, I reckon, if Fisty Harrigan don't--"
The sheriff held up his hand. "Fisty won't," he said. "I'll take care of
that."
The sound of feet blundering up the stairway held Cameron's eyes fixed
on the door. "Some one comin', Scotty."
"Yes; I expected a visit. Sit still--you needn't go."
A short rap and the door swung open as Harrigan, breathing heavily,
paused on the threshold.
"Come in, Denny. Sit down; I want to have a little talk with you."
"Is he in it?" asked Harrigan, closing the door and indicating Cameron
with a nod.
"Yes, incidentally. I'm glad you came, Denny--makes it easier for me."
"Easier?" queried Harrigan. "Now what you drivin' at?"
"Denny," replied the sheriff, "I hear you're out of a job."
"What's that to you?"
"Not so much as it is to you, perhaps. I hear they need men up St. John
way. There's a new company up there--started in last year."
"Anxious to git me a job?" growled Harrigan.
"Not anxious, but willing to give you a chance."
"Chanct? Well, I dunno as I'm askin' any favors or lookin' fur jobs.
What you got to do about givin' me a chanct anyhow?"
"Nothing, officially. Personally, a little more than that." The
sheriff's tone was altogether unruffled and pleasant. "See here, Denny,
you ought to know me by this time. I've given you a chance to catch on,
but you won't take it." His manner changed as he whirled toward Fisty.
"How many shots did Pete fire at Ross?"
"How in hell do I know?" replied Harrigan, backing away.
"Maybe you don't, but I'll tell you."
The little man stepped to his trunk, unlocked it, and laid three empty
cartridges on the table.
Harrigan glanced at them and his eye shifted to the wall.
"Three, Denny; three. Do you think Pete took Ross for a deer more than
once?"
"So that's what you and Mr. Curious Jim is drivin' at, hey? Well, you
jest git to work and prove that I told Pete--"
"Hold on, Denny,--don't convict yourself yet. I'd have locked you up
first if that was what I wanted. I'm showing you the easy way out of
it."
"So Ross is after my scalp, hey? And he's scared to come out--got to git
behind you to do it."
"No. Ross hasn't said a word to me since the shooting. And from what I
hear of him, I don't think he's scared either. This is my affair--and
yours."
"Yes, damn him. He druv me out of the asbestos, and now he's tryin' to
drive me out of the country."
"Suit yourself about that," replied the sheriff suavely. "If Ross had
come to me, perhaps you wouldn't have had a chance to leave the country.
Here are the facts. You bought the rifle and gave it to Pete. I traced
it by the factory number. You sent Pete back after the--deer. I've got
Axel's word for that and his word is good. Cameron, here, picked up the
three shells after you found the Injun in the road. Ross gave you the
licking of your life at Lost Farm. He kept Avery from selling to Bascomb
and you were the man that gave Bascomb the tip about the asbestos, and
your indorsement is on the check Bascomb gave you--for the information.
Besides, you blamed near gave yourself away just a minute ago. Now, do
you want to stay and stand trial or do you want to look for a job up
North? It's up to you. Take it or leave it."
The sturdy little sheriff bristled like a terrier facing an ox. He took
his hat from the table. "I'm going to the station, Denny. I'll wait
there for the three forty-five going north. She'll probably be late--but
I'll wait."
"Hell!" said Harrigan, endeavoring to maintain a bluff front; "I'll
go--but I'm broke."
"That's all right. I expected that. You meet me over there and I'll fix
that up for you; but, just remember, this is strictly unofficial--and
confidential," he added, facing Cameron.
They descended the stairs and Harrigan, with a surly farewell, left
them.
"Well, Jim," said the sheriff, once more the rotund and smiling
individual, "was it all right?"
"Well, I should smile. But say, Scotty, I'd jest like to know why you
ast _me_ to come up to the room and listen?"
"Oh, there are two or three reasons. One of them was that I wanted a
witness in case--"
"I was watchin' his pocket," interrupted Jim. "I could 'a' jumped on him
afore he got his gun out."
"Yes," replied the sheriff, smiling, "and my deputy was in the
clothes-press, in case of a row. You might run up and tell him the
coast's clear. Bet he's about frozen."
"Now, that's one on me, Scotty--"
"Oh, it was a bluff, and Fisty didn't have the nerve to call it."
"I wasn't meaning that." Curious Jim drew himself up impressively. "I
ain't no constable or sheriff or detective, and I reckon I'm sort of a
joke to some folks, but Dave Ross is a friend of mine. Reckon you know
'most everything what's goin' on, but you don't know Dave Ross paid fur
my doctorin' when I had the ammonia,--advancin' the money out of my pay
as is comin' fur next year,--and I reckon you're thinkin' I'd be
proud-like to be the hull works at Fisty's trial,--but thar's where
you're wrong. All I want to do is to git Fisty where he can't do no more
shootin', and if Fisty had 'a' come at Ross a'ter he was married to
Swickey Avery, by God! Scotty, I'd have plugged him m'self!"
"Shake!" said the sheriff, extending his hand.
A slow smile came to Cameron's lean features as he pump-handled the
extended "arm of the law" vigorously.
Then he turned and climbed the hotel steps, whistling like a schoolboy.