THE PLOT
In Vorse's saloon, where in the past so many evil ideas for the
acquisition of money or power had sprouted, the scheme had its
inception. It had been of slow growth, with innumerable suggestions
considered, tested, discarded. The intended arrest and trial of Weir
had been the first aim; but this had expanded until at last the plot
had become of really magnificent proportions, cunning yet daring,
devilish enough even to satisfy the hate and greed of its originators,
consummate in design, absolutely safe and conclusive.
It was Sorenson who conceived the notion of pulling the irrigation
project down in ruins at the moment of Weir's own fall. Judge Gordon a
few days later had pieced out the method, which was either to corrupt
the workmen to wreck dam and camp or to place them in the equivocal
position of having done so apparently though others did it in fact.
Vorse and Burkhardt devised the details. Weir should be left free
until the blow had fallen on the camp, whereupon he should be
immediately clapped into jail on the murder charge, which, coming on
top of the "riot," would paralyze all company action and work. From
such a crushing double-blow no concern could quickly recover, if
indeed the loss did not result in total cessation of construction.
Thus shedding their coats of expedient lawfulness, they reverted
under the menace of Steele Weir's presence to the men they were in an
earlier age--an age when a few white land and cattle "barons"
dominated the region, predatory, arrogant, masterful and despotic; the
age just ceasing when the elder Weir and Dent arrived; the age of
their youth forty years before, the age when railroads and telegraphs
and law were remote, and chicanery and force were the common agents,
and "guns" the final arbiters.
To them Weir was like a reincarnated spirit of that age. He guessed if
he did not know their past. He had appeared in order to challenge
their supremacy, end their rule, avenge his father's dispossession at
their hands. He instinctively and by nature was an enemy; he would
have been their enemy in any other place and under any other
circumstances. He was a head-hunter, and in turn was to be hunted
down. He was the kind who neither made compromises nor asked quarter.
He veiled his purposes in as great secrecy as did they, and when he
struck it would be suddenly, fiercely, mercilessly--if he struck. They
were determined he should not strike, being himself first surprised
and crushed, for though in ignorance of what he could bring against
them their fears were real. Everything, indeed, about the man
antagonized them, alarmed them, stirred their hate and filmed their
eyes with blood. He must be destroyed.
"And with him the dam," Sorenson had said. "Both together." For there
was no effort to conceal among themselves their savage intention.
"He'll never come to trial," Vorse remarked, with a malignant gleam in
his blue eyes and a shutting of his thin lips. "An attempted jail
delivery by 'friends' will fix that. All they will have to do then is
to buy him a pine box."
"If the man had but stayed away!" Judge Gordon exclaimed. Cunning, not
force, was his forte; and the measures in prospect at times had
oppressed him with dreadful forebodings. He was growing old, feeble,
and here when he was entitled to peace he still had to fight for his
own.
In accordance with the scheme Burkhardt vanished from San Mateo for a
time, ostensibly on business but in fact on a journey across the
Mexican line, where he conducted negotiations with a certain
"revoluçionista" of no particular notoriety as yet, of avaricious
character, unscrupulous nature, and with a small following of fellow
bandits and a large animosity for Americans. His ambition was to
emulate the brilliant Villa. But pickings had been poor of late, no
more than that of stealing a few horses from across the border. To
Burkhardt, who had heard of him and sought him out, he listened with
interest and bargained with zest. Five thousand in gold for fifty men
was like pearls from Paradise. And whatever this Yankee's own private
purpose, it was a chance for the chieftain to strike secretly and
safely at Americans, in addition.
"They will come through in squads after they've slipped across the
line," Burkhardt reported. "They're to pose as laborers."
"When?" Sorenson asked.
"Along next week. They're to drop off down along the railroad at
different towns and I'll run them up into the mountains with some
grub. Then we'll assemble them quietly a couple miles off from the
dam, where they'll be handy on the chosen night. Afterwards we'll slip
them back to the railroad, and they fade into Mexico. Weir's workmen
will be drunk and rowing--and will have done the job, eh?" Burkhardt
shook with suppressed, evil laughter.
"If they're drunk, they may join in and help," Judge Gordon stated,
acutely. "A mob full of whiskey will do anything. If they did take a
hand, it would round out the case against them perfectly. Very likely
next day they, too, would fade, as you put it, Burkhardt; they would
want to get out of this part of country as quickly as possible when
they realized what had happened. I see no flaw in our plan.
Fortunately the three directors who are coming will be gone by the end
of next week."
"What's that? What directors?" Burkhardt asked.
"They're to be here on an inspection trip, so they wrote, and will be
pleased to hear our complaints in regard to the question of workmen."
Gordon's tone was ironical. "I wrote them protesting Weir's discharge
of our people, you remember, but that was some time ago."
"What's the use of paying attention to the fools now?"
"We must carry out the farce, Burkhardt, for the sake of appearances."
"I'd like to blow them up along with their dam!" was the scowling
rejoinder, "Well, let 'em inspect. Next time they come back there
won't be any."
"I believe we should arrest Weir before the thing's pulled off,"
Gordon said, meditatively. "It would be surer."
Sorenson set his heavy jaw.
"No. I want him to see the wreck; I want him to know just what's
happened before he's haled away; I want him feeling good and sick
already when he gets the next jolt."
"Sure. It's him or us, as I've said from the first; and I've always
believed in making a clean sweep," Vorse remarked. "We have the right
line this time. First, make his men drunk and sore; then smash the
works; then arrest him quick; and last finish him off with a bullet
during a pretended jail delivery."
"There will be elements of danger in the last," Judge Gordon stated,
cautiously.
Vorse smiled and Burkhardt grinned.
"Not so you'll notice it," said the latter. "The town won't know
anything about it until afterwards. Just a few good men at night,
masked and working fast, and the thing is done."
"I'll not feel easy till it's over."
"Keep up your nerve, Judge," Burkhardt grunted. "You used to be as
lively as anybody when you were young."
"I know, I know. But this Weir isn't going to stand idle. If he ever
gets a chance with his gun----"
"He won't get it," said Vorse.
"And he'll not resist the sheriff when Madden arrests him legally,"
Sorenson added. "Nothing could be better for us than if he did. He
knows that."
"Still I'll be glad when next week is past," the Judge replied, with a
sigh.