"At six I kin swear that Pap was a-talkin' to me in his own corral."
The squatters glanced at each other. The 'Piker' laughed derisively.
"In love with his darter, ain't ye?"
"I am--and proud of it!"
"Them your guns?" The spokesman addressed Ransom, indicating the two
rifles.
"One of 'em is mine; t'other belongs to Smoky."
The 'Piker' crossed the room, examined the rifles, opened each, and
peered down the barrels. He glanced at the other squatters, and said
laconically--
"Quite clean--as might be expected."
Ransom betrayed his surprise very slightly. He had just remembered
that he had left an empty cartridge in his rifle, and that it was not
clean.
The 'Piker' turned to him again.
"You claim that you know nothing o' this job?"
"Not a thing."
"And you?"
The big 'Piker' stared superciliously at Smoky.
"Same here," said Smoky.
The visitors glanced at each other, slightly nonplussed. The big
'Piker' swore in his beard. "We'll arrest the hull outfit," he said
decidedly, "and carry 'em in to San Lorenzy."
"You ain't, the sheriff nor his deputy," said Ransom. "What d'ye
mean," he continued savagely, "by coming here with this ridic'lous
song and dance? There's the door. Git!"
"You threatened to shoot Farge," said the 'Piker.' "An' it's my solid
belief you done it in cold blood, too. We're five here, all heeled,
and there's more outside. If you're innocent the sheriff'll let you
off to-morrer; but, innocent or guilty, by Gosh, you're comin' with us
to-night. Hold up yer hands! Quick!"
Ransom and Smoky held up their hands.
"Search 'em," commanded the 'Piker.'
This was done effectively. A Derringer doesn't take up much room in a
man's pocket, but it has been known to turn the tables upon larger
weapons. Ransom and Smoky, however, were unarmed; but the squatter who
ran his hand over Smoky's pockets encountered a small cylinder, which
he held up to the public gaze.
It was an empty cartridge.
To understand fully what this meant one must possess a certain
knowledge of Western ways and sentiment. Pistols and rifles belonging
to the pioneers, for example, often exhibit notches, each of which
bears silent witness to the shedding of blood. The writer knew
intimately a very mild, kindly old man who had a strop fashioned out
of several thicknesses of Apache skins. The Apaches had inflicted
unmentionable torments upon him and his, and the strop was his dearest
possession. The men and women of the wilderness are primal in their
loves and hates.
The big 'Piker' examined the long brass cylinder, small of bore and
old-fashioned in shape. He slipped it into the Sharp rifle, and
laughed grimly as he said--
"A relic!"
Ransom's face was impassive; Smoky Jack exhibited a derisive defiance.
Inwardly he was cursing himself for a fool in having kept the
cartridge. He had intended to throw it away as soon as he found
himself outside. But from the first he had wanted Mintie's father to
know _that he knew!_ Primal again. Pap would not forget to clean
his rifle at the first opportunity; and then, without a word on either
side, he would realise that the man who wanted his daughter was a true
friend.
We may add that the breaking of the sixth commandment in no wise
affected Smoky. Jake Farge had been warned that he would be shot on
sight if he made "trouble." Everybody in San Lorenzo County was well
aware that it was no kind of use "foolin'" with Pap Ransom. Jake--in a
word--deserved what he had got. Smoky would have drawn as true a bead
upon a squatter disputing title to his land. We don't defend Mr.
Short's ethics, we simply state them.