A PORTENTOUS INTERVIEW
Tresler was in no way blind to the quality of the armistice that had
been arranged between himself and Jake. He knew full well that that
peaceful interim would be used by Jake to raise earthworks of the
earthiest kind, and to train his guns with deadly accuracy upon his
enemy. Well, so he wanted. His purpose was to draw his adversary's
fire directly upon himself. As he had said, to do anything to help the
girl he loved, he must himself be in the fighting line. And from the
moment of his doubtful compact with Jake he felt that he was not only
in the fighting line, but that, if all he had heard on the subject of
Red Mask was true, he would become the centre of attack. There was a
pleasant feeling of excitement and uncertainty in his position, and he
followed Jake all the more eagerly to the presence of the rancher,
only wondering in what manner the forthcoming interview was to affect
matters.
Julian Marbolt had not left his bedroom when they arrived at the
house. Diane, looking a little anxious when she saw these two
together, showed them into her father's office. She was half disposed
to refuse Jake's request that she should summon the blind man, but a
smiling nod from Tresler decided her.
"Very well, Jake," she replied coldly. "You won't best please father
unless the matter is important." This was said merely to conceal her
real knowledge of the object of the visit.
If Jake understood he gave no sign. But he had seen and resented the
silent assurance Tresler had given her. His angry eyes watched her as
she went off; and as she disappeared he turned to his companion, who
had seated himself by the window.
"Guess you ain't figgered on the 'old man' 'bout her?" he said.
"That, I think, is strictly my affair," Tresler replied coldly.
Jake laughed, and sat down near the door. The answer had no effect on
him.
"Say, I guess you ain't never had a cyclone hit you?" he asked
maliciously. "It'll be interestin' to see when you tell him.
Maybe----"
Whatever he was about to say was cut short by the approach of the
rancher. And it was wonderful the change that came over the man as he
sat listening to the tap-tap of the blind man's stick in the passage.
He watched the door uneasily, and there was a short breathless
attention about him. Tresler, watching, could not help thinking of the
approach of some Eastern potentate, with his waiting courtiers and
subjects rubbing their faces in the dust lest his wrath should be
visited upon them. He admitted that Jake's attitude just now was his
true one.
At the door Julian Marbolt stood for a moment, doing by means of his
wonderful hearing what his eyes failed to do for him. And the marvel
of it was that he faced accurately, first toward Tresler, then toward
Jake. He stood like some tall, ascetic, gray-headed priest, garbed in
a dressing-gown that needed but little imagination to convert into a
cassock. And the picture of benevolence he made was only marred by the
staring of his dreadful eyes.
"Well, Jake?" he said, in subdued, gentle tones. "What trouble has
brought you round here at this hour?"
"Trouble enough," Jake responded, with a slight laugh. "Tresler here
brings it, though."
The blind man turned toward the window and instinctively focussed the
younger man, and somehow Tresler shivered as with a cold draught when
the sightless eyes fixed themselves upon him.
"Ah, you Tresler. Well, we'll hear all about it." Marbolt moved
slowly, though without the aid of his stick now, over to the table,
and seated himself.
"It's the old trouble," said Jake, when his master had settled
himself. "The cattle 'duffers.' They're gettin' busy--busy around this
ranch again."
"Well?" Marbolt turned to Tresler; his action was a decided snub to
Jake.
Tresler took his cue and began his story. He told it almost exactly as
he had told it to Jake, but with one slight difference: he gave no
undue emphasis to his presence in the vicinity of the house. And
Marbolt listened closely, the frowning brows bespeaking his
concentration, and his unmoving eyes his fixed attention. He listened
apparently unmoved to every detail, and displayed a wonderful
patience while Tresler went point for point over his arguments in
favor of his suspicions of Anton. Once only he permitted his sightless
glance to pass in Jake's direction, and that was at the linking of the
foreman's name with Tresler's suspicions. As his story came to an end
the blind man rested one elbow on the table, and propped his chin upon
his hand. The other hand coming into contact with a ruler lying
adjacent, he picked it up and thoughtfully tapped the table, while the
two men waited for him to speak.
At last he turned toward his foreman, and, with an impressive gesture,
indicated Tresler.
"This story is nothing new to us, Jake," he said. Then for a moment
his voice dropped, and took on a pained tone. "I only wish it were;
then we could afford to laugh at it. No, there can be no laughing
here. Past experience has taught us that. It is a matter of the
greatest seriousness--danger. So much for the main features. But there
are side issues, suspicions you have formed," turning back to Tresler,
"which I cannot altogether accept. Mind, I do not say flatly that you
are wrong, but I cannot accept them without question.
"Jake here has had suspicions of Anton. I know that, though he has
never asserted them to me in so direct a fashion as apparently he has
to you." He paused: then he went on in an introspective manner. "I am
getting on in years. I have already had a good innings right here on
this ranch. I have watched the country develop. I have seen the
settlers come, sow the seeds of their homesteads and small ranches,
and watched the crop grow. I have rented them grazing. I have sold
them stock. I have made money, and they have made money, and the
country has prospered. It is good to see these things; good for me,
especially, for I was the first here. I have been lord of the land,
and Jake my lieutenant. The old Indian days have gone, and I have
looked for nothing but peace and prosperity. I wanted prosperity, for
I admit I love it. I am a business man, and I do everything in
connection with this ranch on a sound business basis. Not like many of
those about me. In short, I am here to make money. And why not? I own
the land."
The last was said as though in argument. Tresler could not help being
struck by the manner in which he alluded to the making of money. There
was an air of the miser about him when he spoke of it, a hardness
about the mouth which the close-trimmed beard made no pretense of
concealing. And there was a world of arrogance in the way he said, "I
own the land." However, he was given no time for further observation,
for Marbolt seemed to realize his own digression and came back
abruptly to the object of his discourse.
"Then this spectre, Red Mask, comes along. He moves with the mystery
of the Wandering Jew, and, like that imaginary person, scourges the
country wherever he goes, only in a different manner. Anton had been
with me three years when this raider appeared. Since then there have
been no less than twenty-eight robberies, accompanied more or less by
manslaughter." He became more animated and leaned forward in his
chair, pointing the ruler he still held in his hand at Tresler as he
named the figures. His red eyes seemed to stare harder and his heavy
brows to knit more closely across his forehead. "Yes," he reiterated,
"twenty-eight robberies. And I, with others, have estimated the number
and value of stock that has been lost to this scoundrel. In round
figures five thousand head of cattle, one hundred and fifty thousand
dollars, whisked away, spirited out of this district alone in the
course of a few years. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars; one
hundred and fifty thousand," he mouthed the words as though he
delighted in the sound of so large a sum of money. Then his whole
manner changed. A fiend could not have looked more vicious. "And in
all I have lost five hundred beeves to him. Five hundred," he cried,
his voice high-pitched in his anger, "fifteen thousand dollars,
besides horses, and--and some of my men wounded, even killed."
Again he ceased speaking, and relapsed into a brooding attitude. And
the two men watched him. His personality fascinated Tresler. He even
began to understand something of the general fear he inspired. He
thought of Jake who had been so many years with him, and he thought he
understood something of the condition he must inspire in any one of no
great moral strength who remained with him long. Then he thought of
Diane, and moved uneasily. He remembered Jake's allusion to a cyclone.
At Tresler's movement the blind man roused at once and proceeded with
his story.
"And he roams this country at large, unchecked, unopposed. Working his
will whithersoever he fancies, unseen, unknown but for his sobriquet.
And you claim he and Anton are one. This great man--for in his way he
is great, head and shoulders above all other criminals, by reason of
the extent of his exploits. Pshaw!"--his tone was scoffing--"let me
tell you, on three different nights when this monster was abroad,
carrying destruction in his path, Anton was driving me. Or, at least,
was with me, having driven me into Forks on one occasion, and twice in
the neighborhood of Whitewater. No, I am aware that Anton is a
black-leg, or has been one, but he has served me well and truly since
he has been my servant. As for the saddle-marks," he leaned back in
his chair and his gentle smile returned slowly to his face. "No, no,
Tresler, that is insufficient. Remember, Anton is a Breed, a young
man, and, as Breeds go, good-looking. There is a Breed camp in the
neighborhood where they indulge in all the puskies and orgies native
to them. We must question him. I expect he has taken French leave with
my horses."
"But you forget the Breed camp has gone," put in Jake quickly. "Since
the comin' of the sheriff and his men to Forks they've cleared out,
and, as yet, we ain't located 'em. I expect it's the hills."
"Just so, Jake," replied Marbolt, turning to the foreman coldly. "I
forgot that you told me of it before. But that makes little
difference. I have no doubt Anton knows where they are. Now," he went
on, turning again to Tresler, "I hold no brief for Anton in
particular. If I thought for a moment it were so," a sudden storm of
vindictiveness leapt into his tone, "I would hound him down, and be
near while they hung him slowly to death on one of our own trees. I
would willingly stand by while he was put to the worst possible
tortures, and revel in his cries of agony. Don't mistake me. If you
could prove Anton to be the rascal, he should die, whatever the
consequences. We would wait for no law. But you are all on the wrong
trail, I feel sure."
He had dropped back into his old soft-spoken manner, and Tresler felt
like hating him for the vileness of the nature he displayed.
"You plead well for Anton, Mr. Marbolt," he could not help saying,
"but after what I heard last night, I cannot believe he is not in
league with these people."
It was an unfortunate remark, and brought the biting answer that might
have been expected.
"I plead for no man, Tresler. Most certainly not for a Breed. I show
you where you are wrong. Your inexperience is lamentable, but you
cannot help it." He paused, but went on again almost at once. "Since I
cannot persuade you, go with your story to the sheriff. Let him judge
of your evidence, and if a man of Fyles's undoubted skill and
shrewdness acts upon it, I'll pay you one hundred dollars."
Tresler saw the force of the other's reply, but resented the tone,
while he still remained utterly unconvinced of Anton's innocence.
Perhaps the blind man realized his unnecessary harshness, for he
quickly veered round again to his low-voiced benignity. And Jake,
interested but silent, sat watching his master with an inscrutable
look in his bold eyes and a half smile on his hard face.
"No, Tresler," he said, "we can set all that part of it on one side.
You did quite right to come to me, though," he added hastily; "I thank
you heartily. From past experience we have learned that your
apparition means mischief. It means that a raiding expedition is
afoot. Maybe it was committed last night. I suppose," turning to Jake,
"you have not heard?"
"No." Jake shook his head.
"Well, we are forewarned, thanks to you, Tresler," the other went on
gravely. "And it shan't be my fault if we are not forearmed. We must
send a warning round to the nearest homesteads. I really don't know
what will happen if this goes on much longer."
"Why not take concerted action? Why not resort to what was recently
suggested--a vigilance party?" Tresler put in quickly.
The other shook his head and turned to Jake for support. But none was
forthcoming. Jake was watching that strong sightless face, gazing into
it with a look of bitter hatred and sinister intentness. This change
so astonished Tresler that he paid no attention to the rancher's
reply.
And at once Marbolt's peculiar instinct asserted itself. He faced from
one to the other with a perplexed frown, and as his red eyes fell
finally upon the foreman, that individual's whole expression was
instantly transformed to one of confusion. And Tresler could not help
calling to mind the schoolboy detected in some misdemeanor. At first
the confusion, then the attempt at bland innocence, followed by dogged
sullenness. It was evident that Jake's conscience blinded him to the
fact of the other's sightless gaze.
"What say you, Jake? We can only leave it to the sheriff and be on our
guard."
The foreman fumbled out his reply almost too eagerly.
"Yes," he said, "sure; we must be on our guard. Guess we'd better send
out night guards to the different stations." He stretched himself with
an assumption of ease. Then suddenly he sat bolt upright and a
peculiar expression came into his eyes. Tresler detected the half
smile and the side glance in his own direction. "Yes," he went on,
composedly enough now, "partic'larly Willow Bluff."
"Why Willow Bluff?" asked the rancher, with some perplexity.
"Why? Why? Because we're waitin' to ship them two hundred beeves to
the coast. They're sold, you remember, an' ther's only them two
Breeds, Jim an' Lag Henderson, in charge of 'em. Why, it 'ud be pie, a
dead soft snap fer Red Mask's gang. An' the station's that lonesome.
All o' twenty mile from here."
Julian Marbolt sat thinking for a moment. "Yes, you're right," he
agreed at last. "We'll send out extra night guards. And you'd best
detail two good, reliable men for a few days at Willow Bluff. Only
thoroughly reliable men, mind. You see to it."
Jake turned to Tresler at once, his face beaming with a malicious
grin. And the latter understood. But he was not prepared for the
skilful trap which his archenemy was baiting for him, and into which
he was to promptly fall.
"How'd it suit you, Tresler?" he asked. Then without waiting for a
reply he went on, "But ther', I guess it wouldn't do sendin' you. You
ain't the sort to get scrappin' hoss thieves. It wants grit. It's
tough work an' needs tough men. Pshaw!"
Tresler's blood was up in a moment. He forgot discretion and
everything else under the taunt.
"I don't know that it wouldn't do, Jake," he retorted promptly. "It
seems to me your remarks come badly from a man who has reason to
know--to remember--that I am capable of holding my own with most men,
even those big enough to eat me."
He saw his blunder even while he was speaking. But he was red-hot with
indignation and didn't care a jot for the consequences. And Jake came
at him. If the foreman's taunt had roused him, it was nothing to the
effect of his reply. Jake crossed the room in a couple of strides and
his furious face was thrust close into Tresler's, and, in a voice
hoarse with passion, he fairly gasped at him--
"I ain't fergot. An' by G----"
But he got no further. A movement on the part of the rancher
interrupted him. Before he realized what was happening the blind man
was at his side with a grip on his arm that made him wince.
"Stop it!" he cried fiercely. "Stop it, you fool! Another word and,
blind as I am, I'll----" Jake struggled to release himself, but
Marbolt held him with almost superhuman strength and slowly backed him
from his intended victim. "Back! Do you hear? I'll have no murder done
in here--unless I do it myself. Get back--back, blast you!" And Jake
was slowly, in spite of his continued struggles, thrust against the
wall. And then, as he still resisted, Marbolt pushed the muzzle of a
revolver against his face. "I'll drop you like a hog, if you
don't----"
But the compelling weapon had instant effect, and the foreman's
resistance died out weakly.
The whole scene had occurred so swiftly that Tresler simply stood
aghast. The agility, the wonderful sureness and rapidity of movement
on Marbolt's part were staggering. The whole thing seemed impossible,
and yet he had seen it; and the meaning of the stories of this man he
had listened to came home to him. He was, indeed, something to fear.
The great bullying Jake was a child in his hands. Now like a whipped
child, he stood with his back to the wall, a picture of hate and fury.
With Jake silenced Marbolt turned on him. His words were few but
sufficient.
"And as for you, Tresler," he said coldly, "keep that tongue of yours
easy. I am master here."
There was a brief silence, then the rancher returned to the subject
that had caused the struggle.
"Well, what about the men for Willow Bluff, Jake?"
It was Tresler who answered the question, and without a moment's
hesitation.
"I should like to go out there, Mr. Marbolt. Especially if there's
likely to be trouble."
It was the only position possible for him after what had gone before,
and he knew it. He glanced at Jake and saw that, for the moment at
least, his hatred for his employer had been set aside. He was smiling
a sort of tigerish smile.
"Very well, Tresler," responded the rancher. "And you can choose your
own companion. You can go and get ready. Jake," turning to the other,
"I want to talk to you."
Tresler went out, feeling that he had made a mess of things. He gave
Jake credit for his cleverness, quite appreciating the undying hate
that prompted it. But the thing that was most prominent in his
thoughts was the display the blind man had given him. He smiled when
he thought of Jake's boasted threats to Diane; how impotent they
seemed now. But the smile died out when he remembered he, himself, had
yet to face the rancher on the delicate subject of his daughter. He
remembered only too well Jake's reference to a cyclone, and he made
his way to the bunkhouse with no very enlivening thoughts.
In the meantime the two men he had just left remained silent until the
sound of his footsteps had quite died out. Then Marbolt spoke.
"Jake, you are a damned idiot!" he said abruptly.
The foreman made no answer and the other went on.
"Why can't you leave the boy alone? He's harmless; besides he's useful
to me--to us."
"Harmless--useful?" Jake laughed bitterly. "Pshaw, I guess your
blindness is gettin' round your brains!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean it 'ud have been better if you'd let me--wipe him out. Better
for us--for you."
"I don't see; you forget his money." The blind man's tone was very
low. "You forget he intends to buy a ranch and stock. You forget that
he has twenty-five thousand dollars to expend. Bah! I'll never make a
business man of you."
"And what about your girl?" Jake asked, quite unmoved by the other's
explanation.
"My girl?" Marbolt laughed softly. "You are always harping on that. He
will leave my girl alone. She knows my wishes, and will--shall obey
me. I don't care a curse about him or his affairs. But I want his
money, and if you will only see to your diabolical temper, I'll--we'll
have it. Your share stands good in this as in all other deals."
It was the foreman's turn to laugh. But there was no mirth in it. It
stopped as suddenly as it began, cut off short.
"He will leave your girl alone, will he?" he said, with a sneer. "Say,
d'you know what he was doin' around this house last night when he saw
those hoss-thief guys, or shall I tell you?"
"You'd better tell me," replied the rancher, coldly.
"He was after your girl. Say, an' what's more, he saw her. An' what's
still more, she's promised to be his wife. He told me."
"What's that? Say it again." There was an ominous calmness in the
blind man's manner.
"I said he was after your girl, saw her, and
she's--promised--to--be--his--wife."
"Ah!"
Then there was a silence for some minutes. The red eyes were frowning
in the direction of the window. At last the man drew a deep breath,
and Jake, watching him, wondered what was coming.
"I'll see her," he said slowly, "and I'll see him--after he comes back
from Willow Bluff."
That was all, but Jake, accustomed to Julian Marbolt's every mood,
read a deal more than the words expressed. He waited for what else
might be coming, but only received a curt dismissal in tones so sharp
that he hurried out of the room precipitately.
Once clear of the verandah he walked more slowly, and his eyes turned
in the direction of the bunkhouse. All the old hatred was stirred
within him as he saw Tresler turn the angle of the building and
disappear within its doorway.
"Guess no one's goin' to see you--after Willow Bluff," he muttered.
"No one."