At the railway station Curtis alighted. "Go to Paul Ladue's," he said to
Two Horns. "Put the horses in his corral and feed them well. Sit down
with Paul, and to-morrow morning at sunrise come for me at the big
hotel. Be careful. Don't go on the street to-night. The white men have
evil hearts."
"We know," said Crow, with a clip of his forefinger. "We will sleep like
the wolf, with one eye open."
As they drove away, Curtis hurried into the station, and calling for a
blank, dashed away at a brief telegram to the Commissioner. While
revising it he overheard the clerk say, in answer to a question over the
telephone: "No, Senator Brisbane did not get away on 'sixteen.' He is
still at the Sherman House."
Curtis straightened and his heart leaped. "Then I can see Elsie again!"
he thought. Hastily pencilling two or three shorter messages, he handed
them in and hurried up the street towards the hotel, eager to relieve
her anxiety.
By this time the violet dusk of a peaceful night covered the town. The
moon, low down in the west, was dim, but the stars were beginning to
loom large in the wonderful deep blue to the east. The air was
windless. No cloud was to be seen, and yet the soldier had a touch of
uneasiness. "I wish I had brought my faithful men with me to the Sherman
House. However, there is no real cause to worry. Paul is more Tetong
than borderman--and will protect them--if only they keep off the
street."
He began to meet men in close-packed groups on the sidewalk--roughly
clad citizens who seemed absorbed in the discussion of some important
event. A few of them recognized him as he passed, and one called, in a
bitter tone, "There goes the cur himself!" Curtis did not turn, though
the tone, more insulting than the words, made his heart hot with battle.
It was plain that the sheriff and his party had already entered and
reported their defeat. A saloon emptied a mob of loud-voiced men upon
the sidewalk before him, and though he feared trouble he pushed steadily
forward. The ruffians gave way before his resolute feet, but he felt
their hate beating like flame upon his face. He dared not turn a
hair's-breadth to the right nor to the left; nothing was better than to
walk straight on. "They will not shoot me in the back," he reasoned, and
beyond a volley of curses he remained unassaulted.
The rotunda of the hotel was filled with a different but not less
dangerous throng of excited politicians and leading citizens, who had
assembled to escort Brisbane to the opera-house. The talk, though less
profane than that of the saloon loafers, was hardly less bitter against
the agent. Mingled with these district bosses were a half-dozen
newspaper men, who instantly rushed upon Curtis in frank and boyish
rivalry. "Captain, what is the news?" they breathlessly asked, with pads
and pencils ready for his undoing.
"All quiet!" was his curt reply.
"But--but--how about--"
"All lies!" he interrupted to say, and pushed on to the desk. "Is
Senator Brisbane and party still here?" he asked, as he signed his name
in the book.