For reasons obvious and otherwise, Bill Jones did not carry out his
intention of visiting John Marvin's cabin "to-morrow." In spite of
himself, Bill naturally was drawn into the vortex of work and
preparation necessary to turning his home into the Calivada Hotel. The
period of change was a nightmare to Bill, the only leaven in his misery
being the astonishing fact that he actually evolved quite a number of
ideas--ideas which Mrs. Jones, Millie, and Lem Townsend not only O.K.'d,
but put into instant execution--and found exceedingly workable. He made
many attempts to disappear from the premises, but his wife, or Millie,
or Lem always had an eye on him and managed to frustrate his hasty
sorties or more subtle schemes to take French leave. This went on day
after day, and now Bill had endured nearly six weeks of more or less
pleasantly enforced captivity.
In the mean time the mysterious "excitement" up the mountain about
which Bill had mused that morning on the trail had come to a head, and
John Marvin's little cabin seemed to be the center of it.
It was shortly after sundown one evening that a big, red-headed
lumberjack, obviously a Swede, put his head in the door of the cabin and
glanced quickly around the one room. Seeing that there was no one
inside, he entered, closing the door behind him. Going to the window, he
looked out through the thick grove of pines and cedars, but evidently
could see no one. He was breathing hard, as if from running, and he sank
into a chair.
His rest was short-lived. There was a rap at the door, which was
instantly pushed open, and a lanky, sinewy man in sombrero and
riding-breeches, with two revolvers at the belt, strode in. The Swede,
on his feet in an instant, recognized the intruder as Nevin Blodgett,
sheriff of Washoe County.
"What you want?" the lumberjack asked, in his heavy voice.
The sheriff did not answer at once, but took a quick survey of the
cabin's contents, his eyes lighting up as they rested upon the unwashed
dishes on the table, telling of a recent meal. There was a
self-satisfied swagger about the sheriff as he walked up to the Swede.
"You're John Marvin, ain't you?" he demanded.
"No, sir," replied the Swede, with a heavy frown.
The sheriff looked puzzled for a moment; then it seemed to dawn on him
that it was just possible that a big, red-headed Swede was not likely to
be John Marvin.
"Well!" he snapped. "Then I guess you're working for him, ain't you?"
The lumberjack shook his head and went close to Blodgett, emphasizing
his words, "Who I work for bane my business!" There was no fear in his
manner as he stood looking into his interrogator's face with a grin that
boded ill for any one looking for trouble.
Blodgett backed away, his eyes following the breadth of the Swede's
husky shoulders and the line of his powerful arms.
"None of that!" he said. "You're with the gang that's been chopping down
that timber out there. You know well enough that Marvin's stealing that
timber, don't you?"
"Stealing?"
"Yes! He's stealing it from the Pacific Railroad Company, and I'm here
to arrest him for it!"
"Humph!" The Swede shrugged his shoulders and wheeled around, gazing
anxiously out of the window, where the path through the forest was
visible.
"You know where he is, don't you?" Blodgett asked.
"He gone away."
"Where?" Blodgett stamped his spurred boot.
"I doan' know."
"When did he go?"
"Maybe--yesterday."
"When's he coming back?"
"I doan' think he coomin' back." The Swede deliberately put a kettle on
the stove and whistled indifferently.
Blodgett was evidently torn between a desire to maintain his dignity and
authority as sheriff and a rather healthy reluctance to have any trouble
with the great, hulking Swede.
"It's going to be hard for you if you're lying--"
He got no farther. The Swede stepped up to him with blazing eyes.
"You call me liar?" he yelled. "I throw you out the door!"
Blodgett backed quickly away--very quickly. His hand sought the latch
behind him. "If you threaten me, the next thing you know you'll find
yourself in jail!" he cried, shaking his fist.
The Swede's only answer was an ugly grin. Blodgett opened the door,
slamming it after him as he went away.
The big lumberjack stood quiet for several minutes, listening to the
sounds of retreat beaten by the hoofs of Blodgett's horse. Assured that
the sheriff was safely out of the way, he crept to the window, thrust
his head over the sill, and gave a low whistle.
There was a stir in the soap-plant outside and Marvin emerged, hurried
around to the door, and entered the cabin.
"Good work!" he exclaimed, laughing and clapping the grinning Swede on
the back. "You got rid of him very well, Oscar! Now I'll go on with my
supper!"
He took off his coat and went over to the stove, where he began to shake
the damper to let out the ashes. Oscar came and stood beside him.
"He tell me--"
"I know what he told you," Marvin interrupted, continuing to shake the
ashes.
"Do that land belong to the railroad?" There was a slight note of alarm
in the Swede's voice.
"It does now, Oscar," Marvin replied, throwing some paper and wood into
the stove and lighting it; "but I sold the timber a long time before the
railroad got the property, and I'm trying to save the timber for the man
who bought it from me."
"Oh!" The Swede turned toward the door, as if to go. "Bane they arrest
you for that?"
"Not unless they find me!" Marvin chuckled.
"An' me an' the boys--can they arrest oos?"
"No, Oscar," Marvin laughingly reassured him. "You fellows are working
for me and you are not supposed to know anything about my affairs."
"Oh!" The Swede gave a satisfied nod of his head. "I see--you know that
from--from your books." He jerked his thumb toward a table in the corner
on which some law-books stood.
"Yes," said Marvin, looking into the coffee-pot. "Anyhow, you'll be gone
in the morning. The job's done, thanks to you and the boys."
The lumberjack stood for a moment, nodding his red head; then he turned
slowly and went out.
Marvin put the coffee-pot on the stove, watched it a minute, and then
sank thoughtfully into the shabby but comfortable arm-chair at the end
of his reading-table--which also served as a dining-table. He sat there
for several minutes--until the coffee, boiling over on the stove,
brought him out of his reverie and to his feet. At the same moment he
caught the sound of remote but high words coming from that part of his
land where the recently cut timber was stacked.
"I tell you he bane gone away!" he heard, in Oscar's heavy, threatening
voice.
Hurriedly pushing the coffee-pot on to the back of the stove, he sprang
to the door, but before he could reach it it was thrust in against him
and he was thrown back into the middle of the room, where he stood,
perforce, facing a tall, athletic-looking man in motor togs. The man's
strong, intellectual face, undoubtedly pleasant and agreeable
ordinarily, was now clouded with anger, his jaw set and grim.
At sight of him, however, Marvin's fists unclenched and he smiled
amiably, despite the other's attitude.
"Why, hello, Mr. Harper!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand. "You're
just the man I've been looking for! But you seem a bit upset. What's the
trouble?"
Ignoring the outstretched hand, Harper threw off his duster and tossed
it, with his gloves, on the table.
"Just a minute, young man," he said, with a grim tightening of his jaw
and his keen eyes boring into Marvin's. "Just a minute. I came here to
have a look for myself and to see precisely where I stand." He turned
and carefully closed the door.
Marvin went to the stove and calmly poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Well," he remarked, with a laugh, "won't you have a chair and some
coffee first--you can shoot just as easily sitting down."
Harper, his hand at his belt, glared at him.
"You don't think I mean business, do you?" he said, grimly. "Or perhaps
you think you have beaten me to it, eh? Now what sort of man are you and
what nice little game is this you are playing? Here I buy a grove of
timber from you, and while my back is turned you sell the property,
timber and all, to the railroad! I want an explanation and I want it
now!"
"You have the facts a bit mixed up," Marvin replied, still smiling and
nodding toward the chair, at the same time placing the coffee on the
table. "Sit down and we'll talk it over--and I think you'll decide not
to shoot!"
Harper, however, was adamant.
"All right," said Marvin. "In the first place, when I sold you the
timber you said you were going to cut it at once--"
"Correct--correct! But something came up and I could not attend to
it--and I don't see how that exculpates you in the least!"
"It doesn't," replied Marvin, adding, as he took up his coffee, "if you
won't join me, I'll have to go it alone, as this is the first I've had
since morning. Well, when I sold you that timber I never thought I would
sell any of this property. My mother loved every inch of it. It was our
dream that when I received my diploma and established a practice we
would make a home here; but she was taken sick--"
"Yes, I remember your telling me about her being in the hospital."
Harper's voice softened a bit.
Marvin was silent a moment. "I took her to San Francisco. She died
there."
Harper fumbled with the buckle of his belt. His heart went out to the
younger man; yet he felt that right was on his side. He picked up a
picture of Mrs. Marvin that stood in a small frame on the table. "I'm
deeply sorry," he said, softly. "I did not know."
"There is no need to apologize," Marvin answered, quietly. "You have a
perfect right to demand an explanation about that timber." With a last
swallow of coffee, he put down his cup and stood squarely facing Harper,
and his own expression was grim as he continued:
"When we got to San Francisco--mother and I--a lawyer in whose office I
had been a student came to the hospital and got into her good graces. He
had taken a great interest in me and I would have taken an oath as to
his integrity. But when I came up here to sell you the timber--and
mother and I needed the money desperately at the time--this man took
advantage of my absence to persuade mother to deed him fifty acres,
nearly the whole of the property! It was to be a pleasant surprise for
me when I returned! Instead of cash, he gave her a batch of stock in the
Golden Gate Land Company, stock of which I have been unable to dispose.
And the next day he resold the property to the Pacific Railroad Company
for three or four times the price represented by the stock he gave
mother. I found that out later, of course. Well, after mother's death I
hurried up here, only to discover that you had not cut the timber I sold
you _before_ the property was sold. I got busy at once and have been
staying on here until the gang out there finished cutting it and piling
it on what is left to me of the property. Your timber is ready for you,
Mr. Harper, any time you are ready to haul it away."
It was Harper's turn to put out his hand. "I'm mighty sorry I
misunderstood you, Marvin!" he exclaimed, as the latter returned the
clasp. "But look here! Can't you do anything about this fellow, this
lawyer? What's the rascal's name?"
"Raymond Thomas. He's up in these parts quite frequently of late. Made
himself solid with some dear friends of mine, I'm sorry to say, and I'm
worried about it. I can't help believing that he's up to some new game,
though I can't just see what it is. He's a remarkably smooth customer.
It's very hard to pin anything on him. I'm going to make him disgorge my
property if I can, but I shall have a difficult legal fight on my
hands."
Harper nodded understandingly. "I see, I see--covered himself cleverly.
I don't know the gentleman, but I'll be only too glad to do anything to
help you, Marvin." He took a turn about the room, while Marvin leaned
against the table. "I'll have the timber hauled away at once. I didn't
have it cut, myself, because--well, I've had a lot of trouble myself.
Had a strike at the mill, and--oh, hang it all! It's my wife, Marvin!
She's packed up in a hurry and left me!"
He flung himself into the chair and stared ruefully, comically, at the
younger man, who, not knowing what to say, said nothing.
"I didn't mind the strike so much, nor this timber mix-up!" Harper
rushed on, with the air of a man who must tell some one or explode. "It
was my wife, young man! It's her being so unreasonable that makes me
sore. I bought her a present when I was East and had it shipped to the
office. It happened to arrive about the time Mrs. Harper was to come to
the office in the machine to take me home, and she walked in just as I
was showing it to my stenographer. Of course my wife thought I bought it
for Miss Robbins, and--well, what's the use of talking about it?"
With a gesture of dismissal for the subject, he stood up and took out a
wallet.
"How much do I owe you?" he asked. "I figured it would cost about eight
hundred dollars to do that job out there--"
Marvin put up a deprecatory hand. "I can't take it now, Mr. Harper," he
interrupted. "You haven't got that timber yet, and--"
"The railroad will have some job on its hands to get it away from me!"
said Harper. "And unless they do I owe you eight hundred dollars--do you
understand?"
A faint noise outside broke into their conversation. With a warning
gesture, Marvin tiptoed to the door and put his ear against it. Harper,
thinking that it might be a railroad employee who had come to eavesdrop
in order to report their plans, stood with his jaw set, his hand on the
revolver at his belt. With a quick movement Marvin jerked open the door.
Instead of a railroad employee, or the sheriff, it was only Lightnin'
Bill Jones who stood there, leaning idly against the doorframe, his
hands in his pockets. He ambled silently into the middle of the room,
his half-shut eyes blinking in the sudden light.
"I guess I must 'a' been out there some time, come to think of it," he
remarked, meditatively, and addressing himself to the ceiling, quite as
if he were alone. Then he turned carelessly to Marvin.
"I knocked, too--but I guess maybe you wasn't expectin' me."