A FINAL CHALLENGE
The hour was drawing near midnight when Weir and his prisoner entered
the town. Most of the women and children of the crowd of Mexicans had
gone to their homes, but men yet remained before the court house and
in the street, discussing and arguing the exciting events of the
night.
In some mysterious manner knowledge that Burkhardt and not Weir was
the prisoner in the jail, together with news of Judge Gordon's suicide
and Vorse's death, had spread from mouth to mouth. Amazement and
incredulity had been followed by an aroused feeling of anger, for to
the Mexicans it appeared that the crushing blow dealt the leaders of
the town was the arbitrary act of the man they believed a lawless
gun-man. Were not Weir's foremen and engineers guarding the jail? Men
who were strangers, not even citizens of the county?
But though an undercurrent of feeling ran among the talking groups,
gradually increasing as the time passed, yet was there no active
desire on the part of all or a concerted movement to drive away the
seeming invaders of the law. For any such attempt a strong leader was
necessary. There was none: Madden frowned upon them, only saying as he
moved about that he was executing the law; Sorenson, the dominating
figure of the town, and Burkhardt's, Vorse's and Gordon's friend, was
strangely absent.
The determined guard about the jail was in itself a deterrent to mob
action. Meyers had brought twenty or more men from camp, armed and
alert, who with those already about the building constituted a force
to make any crowd of Mexicans, however angry, think twice before
seeking to rescue prisoners. But the wish and the spirit were not
lacking. Employees of the plotters, men who had received favors from
Sorenson or Vorse or Burkhardt, Mexicans of a naturally vicious and
unruly temper, were all for rushing the jail. The great number of the
people, however, peaceful and indolent, preferred to content
themselves with satisfying their curiosity by talk instead of seeking
a taste of blood. And so as a result of this divided opinion the
hostility for Weir had not expressed itself in an effort to assail the
keepers of the jail.
When he was discovered to have returned to town, this angry feeling
assumed a menacing form. He approached the court house by the side
street, Sorenson riding at his side, for it was his plan to lodge his
prisoner in the Jail with as much secrecy as possible. Nevertheless in
this he was disappointed; men saw him arrive, assist his prisoner to
alight and climb the board fence about the yard; and drawn by the
expectation of new events the nearer groups hastened forward.
Weir impelled his man towards the jail.
"Stand back," he commanded the Mexicans.
The latter at first stared in astonishment at beholding the pair, one
of whom was San Mateo's foremost citizen, now sullenly advancing with
wrists bound. Exclamations burst from their lips.
At that a flash of hope filled Sorenson's breast.
"To my rescue, friends!" he cried, beginning to struggle.
Weir jerked him ahead fiercely and cast fiercer looks at the
Mexicans.
"This man is under arrest. And remember I can still shoot straight,"
he warned.
Towards him came Madden running, who in Weir's disappearance earlier
in the night he had guessed a pursuit of the cattleman and had
therefore returned to the jail. He placed himself at Sorenson's
right.
"Whoever tries to take Sorenson from the hands of the law does so at
his own peril," he exclaimed.
A few mocking shouts resulted. These were gradually increased until
the Mexicans, now being joined by scores of others from the street,
became a howling, cursing, hysterical mob, crying Sorenson and
Burkhardt's innocence, calling down imprecations on the heads of the
sheriff and the engineer, stirred by certain lawless spirits to wilder
and wilder passion.
Weir and Madden had not been standing still, for the crowd was not yet
numerous enough at first or bold enough to attack. Moreover the two
men held their pistols well in view. Forcing Sorenson ahead, driving
apart those who blocked their way, they pushed across the yard until
but a few paces from the jail.
One Mexican, a ranch hand from one of Vorse's ranches, wearing a great
high-peaked felt hat and chaps, insolently thrust himself before the
trio, spitting at Weir's face and in Spanish begging companions to
help him release Sorenson. His right hand was resting on his holster
as if but awaiting an excuse to use his gun.
"Get to one side," was Weir's harsh order.
The man's answer was a string of foul curses. Like a panther the
engineer leaped forward and struck the fellow on the side of his head
with revolver barrel, dropping him where he stood.
As the crowd remained suddenly mute, unmoving, their howls checked by
this swift reprisal, Weir spoke to Madden:
"Quick! To the door!"
Each with an arm in Sorenson's, they made a run for the jail, passed
through the line of armed guards and for the moment were safe. The
sheriff lost no time in dragging the prisoner inside and when
presently he stepped forth again, locking the door after him, he
showed a relieved face.
"I put irons on him, hands and feet," he informed Weir. "He's out of
the way at any rate if we're in for a row."
That was exactly what appeared in prospect. Only the rifles in the
grip of the two dozen men about the jail kept the now thoroughly
aroused mob from rushing forward. From yelling it had changed to low
fierce murmurs that bespoke a more desperate mood.
"We ought to move the men somewhere else," Steele Weir stated. "Pretty
soon they'll go for arms and then we'll have real trouble."
"I arranged while you were gone to transfer them to the county seat in
the next county," Madden said. "Telephoned the sheriff; he's expecting
them. To-morrow we can take them to Santa Fé, out of this part of the
country till time for their trial. I placed the automobile your man
brought Burkhardt in from the dam and another machine back in the
alley; they are there now in the shadow."
"Good. The quicker you take them, the better. They ought to be gagged
when brought out. Get them here to the door; the men who are to drive
should have the cars ready, engines going----"
"That's fixed. Your superintendent will drive one car and one of the
engineers the other; they can slip back there at once. Six more of the
guards are to go with us."
"All right. You know whom you want. Station them here at the door to
rush the prisoners back the instant you're ready. Have them go round
to the rear on the dark side of the jail; they should gain a good
start before they're discovered."
Madden called from the line Atkinson and the men whom he had chosen to
accompany him on the night ride. A brief parley followed. Then he and
two of the engineers went inside the jail, while the superintendent
and one young fellow stole away in the shadows towards the spot where
stood the cars.
Meanwhile the throng had grown until it filled all the space about the
rear of the court house and formed a mass of human bodies on which the
checkered moonlight played reaching to within half a dozen paces of
the jail. A shot rang out and a bullet struck the jail. It was like a
match lighted near powder, that if allowed to burn would set off an
explosion. One shot would lead to others from reckless spirits, to a
volley and in the end to an onslaught.
Perhaps that was the reasoning and the purpose of the man who had
fired. In any case, it must not be repeated.
Weir strode forward towards the crowd.
"If that man, or any of you, want to shoot this out with me, let him
show himself," he said, threateningly and swinging the muzzle of his
weapon along the line of faces.
A quick retreat on the part of those nearest marked the respect with
which it was considered. Frantically they strove to push further back
into the mob, clawing and elbowing.
"If you try any more shots," he continued, speaking in Spanish as
before, "those rifles will open fire." He paused to allow this
information to have full effect. "Finally, if you attempt wrecking
this jail, the three hundred workmen from the dam will march down to
San Mateo and teach you proper observance of the law. If you're really
looking for trouble, those three hundred men will give this town
trouble that will be remembered for twenty years."
Standing there in the moonlight between the two parties, between the
thin line of sentinels about the jail and the dense mob in front,
Steele Weir's action seemed the height of rashness. A rush of the
Mexicans and he would be overwhelmed, a cowardly shot from somewhere
in the rear and he might be killed. It was like inviting disaster.
If, however, he recognized his danger, he gave no sign of it. By the
power of his gun and sheer boldness he faced them, calm, fearless,
masterful. His unexpected advance had surprised the Mexicans, left
them confused and uncertain. Wild and sinister tales concerning his
prowess magnified him in their eyes notwithstanding their animosity.
Now they seemed to feel his iron will beating against their faces.
During the pause that ensued Weir heard the jail door open. Madden was
preparing to take his prisoners out.
"I'm not seeking trouble, but I'm not avoiding it," the engineer
proceeded, for this was the critical minute, and he sought to have all
eyes focused upon him instead of upon the activity at his back. "The
sheriff represents the law here in San Mateo, and I give you plain
warning that every man who attempts violence to-night will be called
upon to pay the account. By to-morrow the Governor may have soldiers
stationed in your houses and in your streets, for the prisoners are
now the prisoners of the state, arrested for stealing cattle----"
That was a happy inspiration. Had Weir stated the whole category of
Sorenson's and Burkhardt's crimes, including murder and dynamiting,
he could not have struck so shrewdly as in naming the sin of
cattle-stealing. For this was a cattle country and even the most
ignorant Mexican grasped the significance of this charge.
A visible stir answered the statement.
"For stealing cattle from other men"--he did not trouble to mention
the fact the crime had occurred thirty years previous--"and for that
and other things Sheriff Madden has arrested them. Because they are
rich, their guilt is all the worse. Perhaps they have taken cattle
belonging to you, who knows? That may come out in their trial; if they
have taken them, you shall have them back."
From the rear of the grounds came the low sounds of automobile engines
being started. Weir dared not look about to learn if Madden and his
party were safely on their way thither. As for the Mexicans, the
speaker's words had created a sensation. For men were there who owned
small herds now feeding on the range, and from anger their minds
yielded to sudden anxiety; each saw himself a possible sufferer from
cattle depredations; and in the minds of these, at least, thought of
loss supplanted thought of Sorenson and Burkhardt.
"I helped Sheriff Madden arrest these men because they stole cattle,
possibly some of your steers among them. Is that why you would like to
lynch me, as I've heard you wanted to do?" he demanded, savagely.
"Because I save your animals? Or is it because I shot that renegade
Mexican whom Ed Sorenson hired to try and kill me? Ed Sorenson, yes.
Sheriff Madden has the knowledge of it. Not only would Sorenson the
father like to see me die because I know about his cattle-stealing,
but Ed Sorenson, the son, hired that strange Mexican to shoot me from
the dark because I stopped him from trying to steal a girl. Has Ed
Sorenson left your daughters alone? I would save your daughters from
his evil hands, as I would your cattle from his father's."
A man all at once pushed forth from the crowd, wrathfully elbowing his
way among neighbors. He was Naharo, the Mexican who had chatted once
with Martinez in the latter's office.
"It is true," he shouted, facing his countrymen. "I, Naharo, vow it
the truth. For I saw this engineer take a young girl away from Ed
Sorenson in the restaurant at Bowenville that the scoundrel intended
to seduce. It is so, the truth; the engineer saved her. And are there
not men among you"--his voice gained a savage, rasping note--"whose
girls have been betrayed by the cattle-stealing Sorenson's son?"
"Where is he--where is he now?" some one shouted, angrily. It might
have been a father who stood in Naharo's case.
"He lies crippled," Weir stated. "Last night he tried to steal yet
another girl from San Mateo, and fleeing when overtaken was pitched
from his car and crushed against a rock. He will steal no more
daughters of San Mateo."
Sensation on sensation. The crowd fairly hummed with new excitement
resulting from these disclosures. Ed Sorenson's ways were known to
most and the revelations seemed true to his character; and from
believing the statements of the son to accepting those concerning the
father was but a step. Cattle--girls! It began to look as if this
engineer was in the right.
With half of his attention Weir was harkening for the sound of
starting automobiles. He had heard the scuffle of feet when the party
slipped away from the jail door into the shadows. He had almost
measured their passage to the alley. Ah, and now! There was a quick
grind of gears, the pop of exhausts, then a dying of the sounds as the
cars left the grounds.
"You wished to kill me when you came here, but I had not then and have
not now any intention of dying," he stated. "For I have work to
do--and work for you if you want it. Instead of stealing your cattle
and daughters as the Sorensons did, I'll give you jobs. We are about
to begin digging canals and ditches on the mesa; I want men and
teams--you and yours at good pay for a good day's work. Our quarrel of
the past need not be remembered. I have never been your enemy, only
the enemy of the four men who deceived and oppressed you. And now they
are gone, two dead and two off to be tried for their crimes."
Weir stood for a moment silent, while they as silently stared at him.
"Ha, bueno, we shall work!" Naharo exclaimed.
"We shall work and build your ditches, señor," cried a score of
voices.
Then the cry swelled to a noisy chorus. The crowd began to stir and
disintegrate and break into groups, gesticulating, talking, discussing
all the astonishing items of news given by the engineer, from the
particulars of the Sorensons' depravity to announcement of renewed
hire.
"Señor, we hold you in greatest respect," said a man to Weir, smiling
in friendly fashion.
"And also your pistol," said a companion, laughing.
"No one will need to wear pistols here in San Mateo from now on," was
the answer. And he politely bade them good-night.
His belief was sincere. San Mateo had gained an end of violence, and
henceforth his weapon would gather dust. He had triumphed. Not only
had he subdued his enemies, but he had won the good will of the
people.
One thing more alone remained to be won to bring him utter happiness.