STANDING BY THE LAW
"What had we ought to do?" asked Bob.
"They must have seen our fire, and that's what made them head this way.
So, all we can do is to wait, and see what they want," replied Frank.
"But there don't seem to be many in the party," his chum went on.
"I think not more than two, Bob."
"You can tell from the beat of their horses' hoofs--is that it?"
inquired the boy who wanted to learn.
"Yes, it's easy enough, Bob."
By this time the sounds had grown quite loud, and both boys strained
their eyes, trying to locate the approaching horsemen. In the old days
on the plains every stranger was deemed an enemy until he had proven
himself a friend. Nowadays it is hardly so positive as that; but
nevertheless those who are wise take no chances.
"I see them!" Bob announced; but although the other saddle boy had not
said so, he had picked up the advancing figures several seconds before.
"One thing sure," remarked Frank, as though relieved, "I reckon they
can't be horse thieves or cattle rustlers."
"You mean they wouldn't be so bold about coming forward?" ventured Bob.
"That's about the size of it; but we'll soon know," Frank went on.
As the strangers drew rapidly nearer he began to make out their "style"
for the night was not intensely dark. And somehow Frank's curiosity
increased in bounds. He discovered no signs of the customary cowboy
outfit about them. They wore garments that savored of civilization, and
sat their horses with the air of men accustomed to much riding.
"Hold hard there, strangers; or you'll be riding us down!" Frank sang
out, as the newcomers loomed up close at hand.
At that the others drew rein, and brought their horses to a halt.
Bending low in the saddle they seemed to be peering at the dimly-seen
figures of the two boys.
"Who is it--speak quick!" one of the strangers said; and Frank believed
he heard a suspicious click accompanying the thrilling words.
"Two boys bound for Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon," he answered, not
wishing to take any unnecessary chances.
"Where from, and what's your names?" continued the other, in his
commanding voice, that somehow told Frank he must be one accustomed to
demanding obedience.
The ranch boy no longer felt any uneasiness. He believed that these men
were not to be feared.
"I am the son of Colonel Haywood, owner of the Circle Ranch; and this is
my chum, Bob Archer, a Kentucky boy," he said, boldly.
Then the other man, who as yet had not spoken, took occasion to remark:
"'Taint them, after all, Stanwix! Perhaps we've been following the wrong
trail."
The name gave Frank an idea. He had heard more or less about the doings
of a sheriff in a neighboring county, called Yavapai, and his name was
the same as that mentioned by the second dimly seen rider.
"Are you gentlemen from Prescott?" he asked.
"That's where I hold out when I'm home," replied the one who had asked
about their identity.
"Are you Sheriff Stanwix?" pursued the boy, while his companion almost
held his breath in suspense.
"I am; and this is Hand, who holds the same office in this county of
Coconino," replied the other, as he threw a leg over his saddle as
though about to dismount.
Both of them joined the boys, leaving their horses to stand with the
bridles thrown over their heads, cowboy fashion.
Frank meanwhile had picked up some small fuel, and thrown it on the
still smouldering fire. It immediately started up into a blaze that
continued to increase.
They could now see that their visitors were two keen-eyed men. The
evidence of their calling lay in the stars that decorated their left
breasts. Both looked as though they could hold their own against odds.
And of course they were armed as became their dangerous profession.
Bob was especially interested. He had never really had anything to do
with an officer of the law; and surveyed the pair with all the ardor of
boyish curiosity.
To see one sheriff was a treat; but to have two drop down upon them
after this fashion must be an event worth remembering.
"We had the good luck to knock over a young antelope just before dark,"
Frank remarked, after each of the men had insisted in gravely shaking
hands with both himself and Bob. "Perhaps you haven't had any supper,
and wouldn't mind taking pot luck with us?"
"How about that, Hand?" questioned the taller man, turning with a laugh
to the second sheriff.
"Just suits me," came the reply, as the speaker threw himself down on
the hard ground. "Half an hour's rest will do the hosses some good,
too."
"Thank you, boys, we accept, and with pleasure," Mr. Stanwix went on,
turning again toward Frank.
Bob immediately got busy, and started to cut further bits from the
carcase of his small antelope. There would be plenty for even the
healthy appetites of the two officers, and then leave enough for the
boys' breakfast.
"We're in something of a hurry to get on to Flagstaff ourselves, boys,"
the Yavapai sheriff remarked, as he sniffed the cooking venison with
relish; "but the temptation to hold over a bit is too strong. You see,
Hand and myself have just made up our minds to bag our birds this trip,
no matter where it takes us, or how long we're on the job."
"Then you're after some cattle rustlers or bad men, I reckon," Frank
remarked.
"A couple of the worst scoundrels ever known around these diggings,"
replied the officer. "They've been jumping from one county into another,
when pushed; and in the end Hand, here, and myself concluded we'd just
join our forces. We've got a posse to the south, and another working to
the north; but we happened to strike the trail of our birds just before
dusk, and we've been following it in hopes of reaching Flagstaff before
they can get down into the gash, and hide."
"A trail, you say?" Frank observed. "Could it have been the one I've
been following just out of curiosity, and because it seemed to run in
the very direction my chum and myself were bound?"
"That's just what it was, Frank," the sheriff answered, as he accepted
the hot piece of browned venison, stick and all, which Bob was holding
out. "We saw that there had come into the trail the marks of two new
hosses; and naturally enough we got the idea that it might mean our men
were being followed by a couple of their own kind."
"Then when you saw our little fire, you thought we were the kind of
steers you wanted to round up?" the boy asked.
"Oh! well," Mr. Stanwix replied with a little chuckle; "we kept a touch
on our irons when I was asking you who you were; and if the reply hadn't
been all that it was, I reckon we'd have politely asked you to throw up
your hands, boys. But say, this meat is prime, and seems to go to the
spot."
"I don't know which spot you mean, Stanwix," remarked the other officer,
who was also munching away like a half-starved man; "but mine suits me
all right. I'm right glad we stopped. The rest will tone the nags up for
a long pull; and as for me, I'll be in great shape after this feed."
Bob was kept busy cooking more and more, for the two men seemed to
realize, after once getting a taste, that they were desperately hungry.
But he did it with pleasure. There was something genial about the manner
of Mr. Stanwix that quite captured the heart of the Kentucky lad. He
knew the tall man could be as gentle as a woman, if the occasion ever
arose when he had a wounded comrade to nurse; and if his reputation did
not speak wrongly his courage was decidedly great.
While they sat there the two men talked of various subjects. Frank was
curious to know something about those whom they were now banded together
in a determined effort to capture, and so Mr. Stanwix told a few
outlines of the case.
The men were known as the Arizona Kid and Big Bill Guffey. They had been
cattlemen, miners, and about every other thing known to the Southwest.
By degrees they had acquired the reputation of being bad men; and all
sorts of lawless doings were laid at their door. And finally it came to
defying the sheriff, evading capture by flitting to another county, and
playing a game of hide-and-seek, until their bold methods were the talk
of the whole country.
Then it was the Coconino sheriff had conceived the idea of an alliance
with his brother officer in the adjoining county, of which the thriving
city of Prescott was the seat of government.
Frank even had Mr. Stanwix describe the two men whom the officers were
pursuing.
"We expect to be around the Grand Canyon for some weeks," the lad
remarked; "and it might be we'd run across these chaps. To know who they
were, would be putting us on our guard, and besides, perhaps we might be
able to get notice to you, sir."
"That sounds all right, Frank," the other had hastened to reply; "and
believe me, I appreciate your friendly feelings. It's the duty of all
good citizens to back up the man they've put in office, when he's trying
to free the community of a bad crowd."
Then he explained just how they might get word to him in case they had
anything of importance to communicate. Although the Tarapai sheriff knew
nothing about wireless telegraphy, he did understand some of the methods
which savage tribes in many countries use in order to send news hundreds
of miles; sometimes by a chain of drums stationed on the hill tops miles
apart; or it may be by the waving of a red flag.
"And I want to tell you, Frank," Mr. Stanwix concluded, "if so be you
ever do have occasion to send me that message, just make up your minds
that I'll come to you on the jump, with Hand at my heels. But for your
own sakes I hope you won't run across these two hard cases. We've got
an idea that they mean to do some hold-up game in the Grand Canyon,
where hundreds of rich travelers gather. And if luck favors us we expect
to put a spoke in their wheel before they run far!"