CHRISTMAS AT BUBBLY WELL.
Ted introduced Farnsworth as Mr. Dickson, whom he had met on the road,
and the boys made the newcomer welcome in their usual characteristic
style.
In a few minutes Major Caruthers rode up to the house, and Ted brought
Farnsworth forward. From the question Farnsworth had put to him when he
had first mentioned the owner of the Bubbly Well Ranch, Ted was anxious
to see the meeting between the two men.
Major Caruthers received the young fellow cordially, and told him, with
true Western hospitality, that he was welcome to stay as long as he
wished.
But Ted was watching Farnsworth.
As he put out his hand to grasp the major's, a peculiar look crossed his
face. It was rather wistful, too, and it seemed as if he wanted to say
much more than the few formal words of thanks which he returned in
exchange for the major's greeting.
Ted looked curiously at the two men, and started with surprise at a
peculiar resemblance Farnsworth bore to the older man.
Ted had not particularly noticed the major's face and eyes before, but
now he noticed that his eyes bore a remarkable resemblance to those of
Farnsworth.
There was a resemblance, too, in the shape of the head and the turn of
the jaw, but there it ended; and Ted surmised that the major must be at
least fifteen or twenty years older than the stranger.
During the rest of the day there was much mystery about the house that
always precedes Christmas.
Stella was particularly busy, and flew here and there, whispering with
Bud, who seemed to be in some secret with her.
Behind the big ranch living room was a bedroom which had been used for
casual guests.
Stella had possession of it, and had taken the bed down and banished it
until after the holidays.
Within this room certain mysterious things were going on, and whenever
Stella or Bud left it, the door was always locked behind them.
Not all the teasing of Ben and Kit, nor their efforts to get past the
door, were successful in finding out what was going on.
Along toward evening, Bud, who had not met Farnsworth, or Dickson, as he
was known to Bubbly Well, came across that young man pacing up and down
the veranda alone.
When Bud saw him he stopped as if shot, took a long look, and then
passed on.
But he set out to find Ted, which he did at last at the corral.
"See here, Ted," said the golden-haired cow-puncher, "whar did yer pick
up ther maverick what's up at ther house? I hear he come with yer."
"I met him on the road, and he wanted to know if the major would put him
up for the night, and I told him I thought he would be welcome,"
answered Ted.
"Of course he'd be welcome. Ther major would welcome a yaller dog with
ther mange, out in this yere lonely place. But say, boy, does yer know
what yer brought?"
"Why? I don't understand you exactly, I'm afraid."
"Yes, yer do. Who is that feller? He's not Dickson. Who is he?"
"Search me."
"That's what I'm tryin' ter do, an' if yer don't give up peaceful, I'm
goin' through yer, minute."
"Do you know who he is?"
"I've got my suspicions. I see a feller up to Phoenix what's ther dead
ringer fer him, an' his name wasn't Dickson then."
"What was it?"
"It was Fancy Farnsworth."
"I guess you're on, Bud. But Mr. Farnsworth asked me to keep it dark,
and, as it is Christmas, I consented to do so. Remember, this is the
time for brotherly love and peace toward all men. It wasn't much to do,
and I invented the name of Dickson for him myself. What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothin', if yer like ter bring cattle like that ter our Chrismus
festivities. Fer me, I wouldn't."
"I guess he's not as bad as that."
"He's worse."
"Explain."
"Well, if yer don't know, I will, an' let yer chew on it, an' see if yer
want ter take any chances on him. Now, Farnsworth ain't his real name,
neither. D'y'ever hear tell o' ther Somber Pass massacree, where a
tenderfoot immigrant named Spooner an' his family was killed, an' their
wagons an' horses, an' a pile o' money what Spooner had brought with him
ter start a cattle ranch an' buy stock with, wuz taken? D'y'ever hear
tell o' that?"
"Sure. It's part of the history of the Territory."
"D'y'ever hear any suspicions cast upon nobody?"
"I never did. That is, I never heard any one specifically charged with
the crime. Did you?"
"I did, an' his other name was Farnsworth, only that wasn't ther name he
went by at that time. He's ther feller who was p'inted out ter me as
ther devil what led ther band o' cutthroats what killed ther Spooner
family fer a measly few thousands o' dollars. That's what I meant if yer
knew who yer was bringin' ter yer happy home."
"Why, that crime was committed five years ago, and Dickson or
Farnsworth, as he calls himself, was too young then to be engaged in
anything of that sort."
"He looks young, but he ain't. He's ther feller. Look out fer him, Ted."
"Don't you tip off who he is, Bud. I brought him here because it is
Christmas, and he's going to stay. He's going to get a square deal here
if I have to fight for him."
"Oh, I won't say nothin', but I'd like ter slip a pair o' handcuffs onto
them smooth, white wrists o' hisn, jest ther same. But why is he here?
What's he doin' in this part o' ther country?"
"I don't know, Bud. He asked me when he met me and knew who I was if I
had heard the news about him. I hadn't, and told him so, but he did not
volunteer any information on the subject."
"Whar did he come from? Did he tell you?"
"Yes, he said he had come from Rodeo; starting early this morning."
"Then look fer a big piece o' news from Rodeo right soon."
"How do you know?"
"I know this, if Farnsworth left Rodeo airly this mornin' thar was some
good reason fer it. I reckon it's a killin'. But he's a chump ter stop
off here. If anything has been pulled off at Rodeo, ther whole country
will be out after him, fer Fancy, so called fer his passion fer good
clothes an' high-colored poker chips, they don't like none too well,
he's too almighty quick an' slick with his six-shooter, hez got a list
o' killin's ter his credit as long as yer arm."
"Well, he's here; let's forget it until after breakfast. But as long as
he's here as a guest, he gets all the protection I can give him."
Supper that night was a very merry function in the Bubbly Well ranch
house, full of mysterious whisperings and jokes which were only
understood by two or three at a time.
Mr. Dickson, as the latest guest, occupied a seat at the left hand of
the host, and Ted again noticed the remarkable resemblance between the
two, although it did not seem to be apparent to the others; at least, no
one mentioned it.
After supper was over, and the Chinese cook and waiter had cleared the
room, the major brought out a violin, and asked if any one could play
it.
"Clay kin jest make a fiddle sing!" shouted Bud, dragging the modest
Kentuckian forward.
There was a piano in the living room, and Stella and Clay went to it,
and while Clay played the violin, Stella accompanied him.
Lively airs were demanded, and the ranch house fairly rang with the
clapping of feet as Bud and Carl and Kit danced reels and jigs and cake
walks, and the laughter of the boys at Bud's jokes and Carl's lingual
mistakes.
But at last they became tired of music. It was ten o'clock, and the
major disappeared for a few minutes, then entered, leading the way for
the two Chinamen, who bore between them baskets of rosy apples, dishes
of nuts and raisins and candies, and pitchers of cider.
Although the day had been warm enough in the sun, the night was cool,
and the fire that leaped high in the fireplace made the room cozy and
comfortable, and one could well imagine that outside was the snow
glistening under the stars, and hear the far-away jingle of the sleigh
bells.
They sat around the fireplace eating apples and cracking nuts, talking
nonsense and laughing at Bud's comic antics, until even Farnsworth
relaxed from the air of anxiety he had borne all evening, and once or
twice laughed.
But Bud kept his eye on him, for he was distrustful of him, and believed
that he was up to some trick.
At the end of the living room, between two massive deer heads, hung a
big clock, and, while they were still cracking nuts and jokes it began
to toll the hour of midnight.
Instantly every one was on his or her feet shouting "Merry Christmas!"
and shaking hands all around. Farnsworth was not neglected because he
was a stranger, and Stella was the very first to wish him happiness on
this Christmas Day.
Ted was the last to press forward and with all sincerity wished him
happiness, and, as he did so, he noticed that the young fellow was very
pale, and that his eyes were filled with unshed tears as he looked from
Ted to the major, who was fairly beaming with happiness and joy at the
great success of his Christmas Eve party, which, he said, was the finest
ever held in Arizona.
Then Clay sat down to the piano and began to play a march, and Bud, with
a great flourish, unlocked and threw open the door of the guest room.
Every one started back in surprise, while a shout went up that shook the
roof; but the old major hadn't a word to say. He simply stared, growing
pale and red by turns. He was deeply affected, and Farnsworth had
retired to a far corner, with his face buried in his hands. What
memories stirred him that this desperate young man should be so shaken?
Inside the room all was aglow with myriads of candles which sparkled
from a small pine tree, which was hung with numerous packages and
strings of popcorn. Now every one understood the mysterious movements of
Bud and Stella.
But the most marvelous thing of all was the enormous figure of Santa
Claus, dressed in a coat of red, liberally trimmed with fur, and a long
beard sweeping his breast, sitting on the back of a splendid little bay
pony that was none too quiet in the midst of the light and noise.
"Where did it all come from?" asked Ted of Stella, as they were standing
together admiring the tree.
"Oh, Bud and I thought it out for a surprise for you and the boys before
we left Phoenix, and one afternoon, when you were busy, we went shopping
and brought all these things. If we hadn't come here, we were going to
have the tree in the dining room of the hotel," she answered.
"It was a great idea, and just like you, Stella. It has made this like
Christmas, indeed. We couldn't have had a better one at Moon Valley."
"But look at Major Caruthers," said Stella, pulling Ted by the sleeve.
The old major was actually on the verge of tears.
"I have never been so near the dear home of my boyhood as this evening,
with all you happy, generous young people around me," he said.
"Who in the world is Santa Claus?" asked Ted.
"Why, just Santa Claus, you goose," said Stella, laughing.
But now Santa Claus got down from the pony's back and stepped to the
front of the tree. Every one gathered around and kept silent.
"Good evening, children," he said, in a gruff and husky voice.
"Ach, it iss Kris Krinkle!" shouted Carl Schwartz, in glee. "Py Chiminy,
ain't he noble? How you vas, Kris?"
"Children, I have a few seasonable gifts for you which I will give you
before I hurry away, for I have many more young friends whom I must
visit before the dawn. But first I will turn over to my young friend Ted
Strong this beautiful pony, which has been intrusted to me by Major
Caruthers." He led the pony forward and thrust the bridle into Ted's
hand.
Ted was so astonished that he did not know what to say, but managed at
last to mumble his thanks to his host.
For Stella there was a beautiful necklace of New Mexican turquoises from
the major, who also had not forgotten one of the boys.
Then mysterious packages, well wrapped, were handed off the tree, and as
they were opened, shouts of laughter greeted them, for nearly every one
of them contained something meant as a joke on the recipient.
Carl got a noble-looking parcel, and when he opened it, found a nice red
bologna sausage. Every one screamed with laughter, but Carl promptly
turned the joke by taking out his knife and cutting up and devouring the
sausage.
There was a lemon for Kit from Ben, and a Joe Miller joke book, full of
antiquated chestnuts, for Bud, who proceeded to get square by reading
all the most ancient ones, such as the chicken crossing the road, and
similar gems.
While the laughter and fun were at their height there was a sound on the
veranda, and they all stopped to listen.
Ted instinctively turned to where Farnsworth was sitting alone in the
corner, for there had been no presents for him, and saw him sitting up,
listening intently.
Being a guilty man, or, at least, aware that he was being pursued, he
was alert.
"What's the row out there?" asked the major, who was loath to have the
evening's fun disturbed by outsiders.
"Don't know," said Ted. "Sounded like some one walking on the veranda
and trying the door."
He had no sooner spoken when the door was thrust open and four men
sprang into the room and looked around.
At the same instant, Farnsworth leaped to his feet, drawing his revolver
and backing into the center of the room.
Farnsworth was as pale as paper, but his eyes flashed fire as he glanced
swiftly around.
Apparently there was no way of escape, for the intruders barred the only
outside door.
The sudden entrance into the brilliant light had temporarily blinded the
men, so that they stood uncertainly for a few moments, looking from one
to the other of the figures that almost filled the room.
Major Caruthers now stepped in front of them, his face red with anger.
"What do you mean by intruding on me like this?" he thundered.
For answer, one of the men threw back his coat and displayed the star of
a deputy United States marshal.
"We're officers," he said gruffly, "an' we want Fancy Farnsworth."
"You've come to the wrong place," said the major.
"Oh, no, we haven't. We traced him right here, an' he's in this house."
"What crime has he committed?"
"He killed a woman over at Rodeo last night."
An exclamation of horror arose from all parts of the room.
"There he is! Get him!" almost screamed one of the men, pointing to the
pale but resolute figure standing under the chandelier.
There was a rush, and confusion indescribable followed.
Crash went the chandelier, shattered into a thousand pieces by a dozen
bullets.
Rushing, struggling forms turned the smoke-filled room into a perfect
bedlam.
Two of the intruders went to the floor, sent there by swift and powerful
right-handers from Ted.
But they were up and rushing through the room in the direction of the
Christmas tree.
There Santa Claus met them, and again they were bowled over.
Ted saw the slender, black-clothed figure of Farnsworth slip past him in
the smoke.
Then followed the sharp hoofbeats of a pony on the wooden floor, a crash
of glass, and the swift patter on the earth outside, and all was still.
Farnsworth had leaped upon the back of Ted's Christmas-gift pony and
escaped.