“I’m meddling with another man’s secret, my friend, but I’m going to
tell you enough so that you’ll understand what this means to a poor old
man and;--and--a girl back East.”
At the end of my little speech the driver put out his, wiry hand.
“If I didn’t do my part to help you in this job I’d have-; to own up to
having a spavined soul and a heart with, wind-puffs on it. Go out on the
road a half-mile and I’ll overtake you with two hosses and a mud-cart.”
Before midnight our little expedition was well started across the
prairie. The cart was light, the crisp air of the March night had
stiffened the mud, and we naturally made-better time than with the heavy
outfit on which we had ridden to Breed. But it was coming, dawn when we
got to the rim-rock at the edge of Callas prairie.. Far below we could
see the chimneys of Royal City, smoking signals of early breakfasts.
During the crawl across the adobe ruts, under the stars, I had canvassed
with the driver the dangers that the presence of Pratt and his associate
rogues in Royal City held for two gentlemen who desired to mind their
own business and travel East by that; first train.
“Friends,” stated the driver, after he had meditated on the matter, “I’m
going to drop you right here at the rim-rock. Just over there is
the mouth of a path that leads down the side of the canon by a short
cut--it’s all of two miles further by the stage-road where you came-up.
The path doesn’t hit the stage-road anywhere. Now if those chaps are
out and free they’ll be likely to ram across to Breed by this morning’s
stage. They want to see you mighty quick and what the mayor said to
Pratt won’t keep ’em away, I reckon! They must be reckless by now! If
you walk down the path you’ll dodge ’em--for the stage is just about
leaving. There’s an old feller named Mike at the foot of the path who’ll
ferry you. You’ll have a full hour to make the train. Take your time
down the path so that you’ll be sure to miss the stage. If your men are
still in Royal City--well, if I was in your place I’d take that train,
anyway, even if I had to leave orders behind for the funerals and the
flowers.”
We climbed down and I started to shove my hand into my pocket. Mr. Flye
threw his own hand to his hip.
“Hands up!” he called, sharply. “Don’t you pull that wallet! When a
chap gets rich overnight like I’ve done he’s pretty touchy when a friend
tries to put favor on a cash basis. I didn’t think you’d do it, Mr.
Mann.”
Tears came into my eyes.
“Hands up? Yes, hands up to you, good friend, both hands up to you.” I
grabbed the driver’s fists in mine. “But I don’t understand just why you
have done for me all that you’ve done.”
“I reckon I smelled out by sort of instinct that you was giving up your
time, doing good for somebody else,” he said, with a nod at the old
man. “At any rate, I took to you, and when I take to a man it’s all of
a sudden and, doggone it, I just can’t help giving him my shirt--if it’s
clean enough and he’ll take it.”
He did not trust himself to stay any longer. He lashed his horses, they
spun around, dragging the cart on two wheels, and away the outfit went
across the prairie. And I never saw Wash Flye any more!
I hurried along and the old man found the path too steep for
conversation. In places we were obliged to cling to sloping trees and
ease our way down.
We were startled, after a time, by the sudden appearance of a man in the
path ahead. He was climbing with haste.
“Well, gents,” he called, cheerily, “you’re lucky to be coming down
instead of going up! But I figured that I’d rather climb up to the
prairie and get a little sunshine than stay down there and wait for that
stage to get fixed up.”
He stopped and wiped his forehead.
“What about the stage?” I asked. I had a vision of Dragg, Dawlin, and
Pratt waiting at the river below or lounging in the streets of Royal
City, blocking our path of retreat.
“Oh, a tire came off, this side of the river, and the rim caved in.
They’ve propped up the old caboose and sent the wheel back to the
blacksmith shop. You ought to have heard those other three passengers
swear! I’ve had a chance to hear it scientific and fancy in my time--but
those gents certainly could hang on the trimmings. Especially the fat
one!”
“Fat one!”
“Yep! Fat man with a suit of clothes that would put the eyesight of
a Potlatch coyote on the blink. They seem to be in a hurry. They’re
walking up this hill, too. Other two men are derricking fat man up the
trail. Are making some talk about getting a rancher to set ’em across
Callas.”
He clapped on his hat and climbed along.
When he had disappeared, I led the way into the pine growth at the side
of the trail, and we found a boulder which would shield the two of us.
Dragg came first--carrying out the suggestion of his name by pulling at
Mr. Pratt with all his strength, and Dawlin pushed behind. They halted
often and one of their stops was just below our boulder. They were
telling each other what they proposed to do to a certain person who wore
a plug-hat.
I drew the two guns from my hip pockets, and I could feel the arm of the
judge trembling against my ribs.
But after the three went puffing on and were out of sight, I dropped the
weapons into a crevice between the ledges.
“No, I did not intend to shoot them,” I said, when Judge Kingsley asked
questions.
We hurried on down the trail.
“But why did you throw away those two good revolvers?” asked the thrifty
old chap.
“I only borrowed them. It might seem like stealing if I should carry
them back East. I don’t like to have stolen property on my person,” I
said.