In the evening a stranger drove up to Chakchak. He was long and lean,
and his hair was flecked with gray. His eyes were blue and clear, set
rather wide apart, holding a calm, disconcerting stare. His clothes
were much worn, frayed, and dusty. His movements were quiet and
deliberate, and so was his speech.
"I am lookin'," he said, "for Mr. Dunne."
"That's my name," said Casey.
"Then I'd like a little private talk with you. My name is Dove; I'm
actin' sheriff of this county while Fuller's sick." Evidently Acting
Sheriff Dove was a man of direct speech.
"Glad to meet you, sheriff," said Casey. "Come right into my quarters.
I've guests at the house, and I'm bunking here. Have a cigar, and tell
me what I can do for you."
The sheriff lit a cigar very deliberately, and carefully pinched out
the flame of the match with his fingers, surest of signs of one
accustomed to the plains and woods. He removed the cigar, eyed it with
approval, replaced it, and turned to his host.
"That's a right good smoke. I come to see you about this killin'. This
here McHale worked for you, I'm told."
"He's my foreman."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know."
"He come back here after the killin', collected up his outfit, got a
pack horse, and made his get-away?"
"Yes."
"Told you about it, maybe?"
"Yes."
"But not where he was goin'?"
"No."
"Still, you can make a tol'able guess."
"I'm not guessing," Casey replied. "That killing was square, sheriff."
"I don't say it wasn't," Dove admitted. "I got nothing to do with that.
My rule is, when there's a killin', to bring in the man who done it,
and let the law 'tend to his case."
"Good rule, theoretically."
"And so," Sheriff Dove continued, with calm finality, "I'm out to bring
in this here McHale."
Casey thereupon gave Tom's reasons for leaving, and expressed his
opinion that he would come in and give himself up within a short time.
The sheriff listened, smoking impassively.
"I dunno but what McHale acted pretty sensible," he commented. "He
needn't worry about my not protectin' him. I've give a prisoner a gun
and let him help stand off a mob before now. Likewise, I've got lead in
my system doin' it. However, that ain't the point. I can't wait 'round
for him to come in. I got to get him. There's been quite a bunch of
things happenin' down in this country, far as I can hear, that ain't
none too law-abidin'."
Casey merely smiled genially.
"Mind you, I ain't no busybody," said the sheriff. "I get trouble
enough in a regular way without huntin' for it. I've been hearin'
things, but there bein' no complaint I've sat tight. Up to this Cross
killin' nobody's been hurt. But that's serious and brings me in to take
a hand. One of my deputies, Jack Pugh, is after a young feller named
McCrae. There's lots of things don't speak well for respect for the law
down here. I represent the law, and what hits it hits me."
"I understand. You've been straight with me, sheriff, and I appreciate
it. I don't know exactly where McHale is, but I think if you found him
and gave him a straight, decent talk he'd come in without any trouble.
He doesn't want any. And I think you'll find him somewhere in the
hills. That's all I can tell you now."
"Him and this young McCrae is tillikums, they tell me," the sheriff
suggested. "You think maybe they've met up?"
"They may. There's a chance of it."
The sheriff considered. "This McCrae is a leetle mite headstrong, I'm
told. Sorter apt to act rash."
"I'm afraid so."
The sheriff shook his head regretfully. "I'd ruther deal with a sure
'nough bad man than with a young feller like that," he observed, "They
lack judgment, as a rule. I'm told he savvies a gun right well?"
"He's a centre shot and quick," said Casey. "And, remember this,
sheriff, if you run across him: he doesn't bluff. When he goes after a
gun he goes after it to shoot with. I tell you this because I don't
want to see anybody hurt. There's no harm in him, handled right, but
he's a kid, and you want to make allowances."
"I'm obliged to you, and I'll do it. Jack Pugh and Glass have started
out after him already. They allow to prospect 'round in the hills till
they find him. That's what I'll do with McHale."
Casey considered, and suddenly came to a decision.
"Anybody going with you?"
"No."
"Don't you want a deputy?"
"Any time I got to pack a deputy 'round with me to bring in one man
there'll be a job open," the sheriff returned grimly. "I don't keep no
corral full of deputies. I got Pugh and another, and they're both busy.
I allow not to get lost. I've been out by myself before now."
"The reason I ask," said Casey, "is that I'd like to go with you
myself. The boys might listen to me, and not to you. Mind, I'm not
offering to guide you to them. You find your own trail. But I'll make
all the peace talk I can if you do find them. Besides, there's this
Dade. If he goes after Tom, there will be trouble. It's a feud. I
declare myself in on it."
"I hate trouble and I love peace," said the sheriff. "No feuds is goin'
to flourish around where I am. But you come along. You're actin' right.
I'm glad to have you. Can you start in the mornin'?"
"Make it afternoon; I've things to see to first. How are you fixed for
a horse?"
"I've got my own hoss back yander in town. I hated to use him till I
had to. That's why I hired a team."
"I have a pack horse. That's all we'll need. Bring your own outfit.
I've plenty of grub here."
"That's mighty kind," said the sheriff. "The county will pay for your
hoss and the grub."
"I don't want pay. This is my shout. I'm doing it for my friends."
"Well, your friends ought to be right obliged. I'll remember it. You
won't find me makin' things harder. And now I'll pike along back to
town."
They shook hands and the sheriff climbed back into the sagging
buckboard and departed. Casey returned to his quarters and began to
gather an outfit by the only practical method; that is to say, by
piling everything he wanted in a heap. He was engaged in this
occupation when Clyde knocked and entered.
"Why, Casey, whatever are you doing?"
He told her, and she approved his plan. She began to examine the heap
he had thrown together on the table--knife, cartridges, fishhooks and
line, compass, matches, sweater, poncho--with a girl's interest in such
masculine possessions. But she exclaimed at the lack of toilet
articles. Where were his razors, his hairbrushes?
"I'll get along without them."
"My goodness, boy, you'll be scrubby. Aren't you going to take even
a--a toothbrush?"
"Yes, I'll do that," he laughed. "There, that's enough for to-night.
Feng will put up grub in the morning. What have you done with Kitty
Wade and her husband? Hadn't we better look them up? They may be making
love on the sly."
"Do you need a chaperon so badly?" She slipped her arm in his. "Come
on, then. They've gone for a walk up the ditch. We'll meet them and
come back together. Only I want to impress upon you, Casey, that they
must walk ahead of us--unless it gets very dark, indeed."
"I think I get you," he laughed. "We'll arrange that detail. Kitty Wade
is a most sympathetic young matron."
They found the Wades, and their evening stroll became an inspection of
the ranch. The effects of the rain were already visible in the colour
of the grain. It was darker, more vigorous, sending forth new shoots.
The grass lands, where the network of roots had retained the earlier
moisture, were lush and knee deep. Soon it would be ready to cut.
The beauty of the evening held them out of doors. It was good to idle
in the twilight with the scent of clover in the nostrils, to walk among
the growing things. It was sweet to exchange confidences, to plan for
the future as man and woman have from the beginning, painting it
brightly, draping it in rose and gold, a perfect picture wherein all
the colours harmonized.
It was the time of dreams. They gazed into the future as children might
look across an unknown sea, seeing in fancy its stately galleons, its
tall treasure ships, its white-winged pleasure craft, its wondrous,
palm-fringed islands, where summer abode always; but they had no eyes
for leaden skies and sullen shouldering swells spouting on hidden
reefs, the great, gray bergs fog-hidden in the ship track, the drifting
derelicts whose hopes were once as fair as their own. For God has
mercifully arranged that these things shall be hidden from our eyes
until the proper time.
Even when they reached the house they were not inclined to go indoors.
They sat in the darkness, in pairs, apart, conversing in low tones, and
so another hour slipped away. Back of them the house was dark; not a
lamp was lighted. Only from Feng's kitchen a path of light streamed
from the door. But as they were about to leave the veranda they heard
the sound of hoofs approaching.
"Who on earth is coming at this time of night?" Wade asked.
"Sit quiet and we'll see," said Casey. His hand closed on the butt of a
gun in his pocket, which he now carried constantly.
The hoofs slowed to a walk, and a shadowy horse and rider halted a few
yards away. In the darkness of the veranda, with the deeper background
of the building, they were invisible.
"Be th' mortal! but they've all gone to bed," muttered a disgusted
voice. "An' what do yez know about that? 'Airly to bed an' airly to
rise,' as the kids' dope books has it. Maybe ut makes a man healthy,
but all the wealthy wise guys iver I knowed wint on th' well-known
principle that home was the last place to close up. Faix, a man'll go
home whin he's in no state f'r anny other place. Whoa! Howld still,
there's a good harrse, till I see what's best to do. Don't be so
onaisy. Whoa, darlin'! Bad cess to ye, ye roachbacked Prodestan' baste,
kape off iv thim flower beds! Have yez no manners at all, at all? Be
all th' saints in glory I'll larrup th' head off iv yez--or I w'u'd if
I wasn't afraid ye'd buck me onto the roof. Yez have me crippled
intirely as ut is."
"Not a word, for your life!" Wade whispered. "That's a star monologue!"
Feng, attracted by the voice, came to the door.
"Hallo! What wanchee?" he demanded.
"The country's overrun wid them yelly divils!" Mr. Quilty muttered.
"What wanchee? Th' nerve iv him! Ye weathered-ivory monkey face, I've
business wid yer betters!"
"You keepee hossee off flowah bed," commanded Feng. "What foh you lidee
him all oveh?"
"Ask th' harrse!" Quilty retorted. "The sight iv yez onsettles him,
lowgrade baste as he is. Dom a Chinaman dead or alive, annyway!"
"You no good!" retorted Feng. "Me savvy you. You Ilishman, all same
mick, all same flannel mout', all same bogtlotteh! You bum lailway man!
You get dlunk, fo'get switch, thlain lun off tlack; you swingee
lante'n, yellee 'All aboa'd!' you say, 'Jim Kli! what keepee Numbeh
Eight?' You sellee ticket, knockee down change. No good, lailway man!
Me savvy you, all light."
"Ye cross iv a limon peel and a case iv jandhers!" cried Mr. Quilty in
wrath at these aspersions on an honourable calling, "I'm a notion to
get down an' slug the head off iv yez! Faix, ut's no murder to kill a
Chinaman, but a bright jewel in me starry crown, ye long-nailed,
rat-eatin', harrse-haired, pipe-hittin' slave iv th' black pill! I'll
make yez think I'm a Hip Sing Tong or a runaway freight on th' big
hill. I'll slaughter yez, mind, if I get off. Do yez know where yez
will go whin yez die at my hands?"
"Me go to heaven," said Feng, with comfortable conviction.
"Th' ---- ye say!" ejaculated Mr. Quilty, in shocked amazement. "I
think I see ye there!"
"You no see me," said Feng. "No Ilish lailway man stop in heaven. Me
catchee heaven all light. Missionally say so."
"Is ut mish-naries they send to waste time on the loikes iv yez?"
snorted Mr. Quilty. "Hivin! Fine comp'ny ye'd be f'r the holy men and
blessid saints an' martyrs an' pure, snow-white angels! Why, ye
idolatrous, stick-burnin', kow-towin', joss-worshippin' pagan son iv a
mat-sailed junk and a chopstick, they'd slam the pearly gates forninst
yer face and stick their holy fingers to their blessid noses at yez.
Hivin! Ye'll never smell ut, nor scuffle yer filthy shoes on th'
goolden streets. Purgathry! Faix, yer ticket reads straight through,
wid no stop-off priv'leges whatever. Th' cindher pit f'r yours! Be th'
Rock iv Cashel, I'll l'arn yez to insult th' heav'nly throng!"
So saying, he dropped ungracefully from his horse and made a rush for
Feng, who retreated, slammed the screen door, and, from inside,
threatened the storming party with a formidable butcher knife.
"Whurroo!" shouted Mr. Quilty, dancing on the steps. "Come out, ye
yelly plague, knife and all, an' l'ave me knock the stuffin' out iv
yez! Annyways, I'll tell ye what ye are. Ye're a----"
But Casey, fearful of Mr. Quilty's descriptive powers, saw fit to
interrupt.
"Hello! What's all the row? That you, Corney?"
"Yer owner has saved yer life," Mr. Quilty informed Feng. "Sure ut's
me, Casey. I'm after l'arnin' this Oriental curse iv the wurruld how to
talk to his betters." He mounted the steps, peering suspiciously at the
occupants of the veranda. "Who's these?" he demanded. "I can't see in
the dark. Miss Burnaby, is ut, an' Misther Wade an' his leddy? I
believe yez were here all the time!"
"We just came in from the other side," Casey lied manfully.
"Yes, ye did! I can see yez laughin', and I don't blame yez. 'Twas
funny how scared the Chink was. Well, ut does thim lower races good to
be bawled out wanst in a while by their superiors."
Casey led the way indoors, and lighted the lamps. He established Mr.
Quilty in a comfortable chair, with a cigar and a cold drink.
"Th' health and inclinations iv all here," said Mr. Quilty, waving his
glass gracefully. "I'm glad to see yez all lookin' so well, more
partic'larly the leddies."
"Thank you, Mr. Quilty," said Clyde.
"It's very nice of you, Mr. Quilty," said Kitty Wade.
"It's not often I have the good forchune to be in leddies' society,"
Mr. Quilty continued. "Me tongue has lost th' right twist for
compliments; but, sure, if ut hadn't ut wouldn't begin to do th' pair
iv yez justice. Oh, divil th' bit iv soodher am I givin' yez. It's two
pretty women yez are. Well, well, I'm an old felly who's had his day.
Ye won't mind me. Annyways, wan iv yez has a man, an' th' other is
spoken for, belike. Now whatever makes Casey, there, blush? I didn't
think he knowed how. An' Miss Burnaby, too! What'll yez do whin they's
rice lodged in yer clothes and yer hats, an' white ribbons on yer
trunks, an' th' waiters grin whin ye go into the diner? Let me tell ye,
now----"
"Please, please, Mr. Quilty!" Clyde pleaded.
"Have I rung th' bell?" he demanded.
"Bull's-eye," said Wade. "Own up to it, you two. It's obvious."
"Oh, is it?" said Clyde. "Well, if we're half as bad as you and Kitty
were----"
"Don't mind him; he was in love with me once," said Kitty.
"He is yet," said Clyde.
"Faix, I don't wonder at ut," said Mr. Quilty gallantly.
"Very skilful shift of topic," said Wade. "I admit everything. I guess
we were bad enough; but you and Casey are the limit."
"But look at th' fine excuse both iv thim has," said Mr. Quilty,
beaming. "Here's long life an' happiness, an' may yer only troubles
be--well, well, niver mind th' troubles. There's time enough to think
iv them whin they come. Which puts me in mind that I do be forgettin'
what _I_ come for. Ut's about Tom. D'ye know where he's at?"
"Not exactly. Why?"
"Mebbe ye heard that th' water comp'ny is payin' off its men an'
shuttin' down. Well, then, there's all iv thim hard-faced _tillikums_
iv Cross, deceased, paid off; an' instid iv gittin' dhrunk like dacint
Christians, what do they do but outfit thimselves an' start back fer
th' hills, six iv thim--an' a divil iv a harrd-bunch, savin' th'
leddies' presence. Wan iv thim made a brag that they'd get Tom. So I
come out to tell yez, in case ye had word from him. An' they's officers
out afther that young divil iv a brother iv Miss Sheila's. Somebody
ought to tell the boys to skin their eyes, if so be they're hangin'
around."