THE EXIT OF LANE
Early one evening, after Lane's capitulation, I sat in the hall at
Bonaventure waiting its owner's return. Lucille Haldane occupied the
window-seat opposite me, embroidering with an assiduity which, while
slightly irritating, did not altogether displease me. Since the wagon
accident she had, in an indefinite manner, been less cordial, and I, on
my part, was conscious of an unwonted restraint in her presence. It is
unnecessary to say that she made a pretty picture with the square of
still sunlit prairie behind her, though her face was tantalizingly
hidden in shadow, and I could only admire the graceful pose of her
figure and the lissom play of the little white fingers across the
embroidery. The girl must have been sensible of my furtive regards, for
at last she laid down the sewing and looked up sharply.
"Is there nothing among all those papers worth your attention, or have
you taken an interest in embroidery?" she asked, pointing to the
littered journals on the table. "Do you know that it is a little
disconcerting to be watched when at work?"
I was uneasily conscious that my forehead grew hot, but hoped the hue
that wind and sun had set upon it would hide the fact. "Don't you think
the trespass was almost justifiable?" I said. "You are responsible for
spoiling us; and unaccustomed prosperity must be commencing to make me
lazy. I was thinking."
"That is really interesting," said the girl. "Has sudden prosperity also
rendered you incapable of expressing your thoughts in speech?"
In this case, circumstances had certainly done so. I had been thinking
how pretty and desirable the speaker looked; but the trouble was that,
although silence cost me an effort, I could not tell her so. I hoped to
say as much, and more besides, some day; but this moment was not
opportune. Lucille Haldane was mistress of Bonaventure, and I as yet a
struggling man, who, thanks to her good nature and her father's business
skill, had barely escaped sinking into poverty. It would be time to
speak when my position was a little more secure. Meanwhile, in spite of
the sternly repressed longing and uncertainty which daily grew more
painful, it was very pleasant to bask in the sunshine of her presence,
and I dare not risk ending the privilege prematurely.
"I was thinking what a change has come over this part of the prairie," I
said, framing but one portion of my thoughts into words. "Not long ago
one saw nothing but anxious faces and gloomy looks, while now, I fancy,
there is only one downcast man in all this vicinity, and he the one from
whom your father and Boone have just parted. The change, considering
that a single person is chiefly responsible, is almost magical; but,
remembering a past rebuke, that hardly sounds very pretty, does it?"
Lucille Haldane laughed mischievously. "To one of the superior sex; but
are you not forgetting that this season the heavens fought for you? It
certainly might have been more neatly expressed. Do you know that the
education you mentioned is not yet quite finished?"
"I know there is much you could teach me if you would," I said, with a
humility which was not assumed, choking down bolder words which had
almost forced themselves into utterance; and perhaps the effort left its
trace on me, for Lucille turned her head towards the prairie.
"Here is Sergeant Mackay. I wonder what he wants," she said.
Mackay, dusty and damp with perspiration, was ushered in a few minutes
later, and for the first time I felt all the bitterness of jealousy as I
saw the friendly manner in which the girl greeted Cotton, who followed
him. There was nothing of the coquette in Lucille Haldane, and the
knowledge of this added to the sting; but I did not think that even she
was always so unnecessarily gracious. Mackay, however, appeared intent
and grim, and by no means in a humor for casual conversation.
"I'm wanting your father and fresh horses at once, Miss Haldane," he
said. "Ye had a visit from Lane yesterday?"
"We certainly had. What do you want with him?" asked Lucille. And Mackay
smiled dryly when I added a similar question.
"Just his body, and your assistance as a loyal subject, Henry Ormesby.
Ye were once good enough to say ye could not expect too much from the
police; but it's long since your natural protectors had eyes on the
thief who was robbing ye. Niven, when he wasn't quite sober, told a
little story, and there's another bit question of a debt agreement
forgery. Ye will let us have the horses, Miss Haldane?"
Lucille bade them follow her, and I heard her giving orders to one of
the hired men. Then she returned alone in haste to me. "You saw where my
father put the book Miss Redmond gave him?" she said.
"Yes," I answered, wondering. "He locked it inside that bureau and put
the keys into his pocket."
The girl wrenched at the handle, and I noticed by the creaking of the
bureau how strong, in spite of her slenderness, she was. The lock would
not yield, and she turned imperiously to me. "Don't waste a moment, but
smash that drawer in!"
"It is a beautiful piece of maple, and why do you wish to destroy it?" I
said, and, for she had a high spirit, fancied Lucille Haldane came near
stamping one little foot impatiently.
"Can you not do the first thing I ask you without asking questions?" she
said.
There was nothing more to be said, and stooping for the poker, I whirled
it around my head. One end of the bar doubled on itself, but the front
of the drawer crushed in, and when I had wrenched out the fragments,
Lucille drew forth the book.
"I know what my father promised, and there is Miss Redmond to consider.
She has suffered too much already," she said, tearing out whole pages in
hot hurry. "Sergeant Mackay is much less foolish than I once heard you
call him, and I have no doubt suspects something of this. Can't you see
that he could force us to give the papers up? I am going to burn them."
"That at least you shall not do," I said, taking them from her with as
much gentleness as possible, but by superior force, and then positively
quailed before the anger and astonishment in the girl's face.
"You are still so afraid of Lane that you would risk bringing fresh
sorrow on that poor girl in order to protect yourself?" she said, with
biting scorn.
"No," I answered stolidly, without pausing for reflection. "I only wish
to declare it was I who destroyed this evidence, if there is any trouble
over the affair."
I tore the book to pieces and rammed the fragments deep among the
burning logs as I spoke, and when this was accomplished I did not look
up until Lucille Haldane called me by name. Gentle as she could be, I
had a wholesome respect for her wrath.
"I deserved it," she said, with a bewitching deepening of the crimson in
her cheeks and a shining in her eyes. "You will forgive me. I had not
time to think."
Thereupon I longed for eloquence, or Boone's ready wit; but no neat
speech came to my relief, and while I racked my clouded brains the girl
must have guessed what was taking place, for merriment crept into her
eyes. Then, just as an inspiration dawned on me, as usual, too late, a
hurried tread drew nearer along the passage.
"It is Sergeant Mackay, and he must not come in here," said my companion
with a nervous laugh, as she glanced at the shattered bureau. "Is it
quite impossible for you to hurry?" Then before I realized what was
happening, she had placed one hand on my shoulder and positively hustled
me out of the door. Hardly knowing what I did, I clutched at the little
fingers, and missed them, and the next moment I plunged violently into
the astonished sergeant.
"Mr. Ormesby is ready, and so are the horses. I hope your chase will be
successful," a voice, which sounded a little uneven (though there was a
trace of laughter in it) said, and the door swung to.
Mackay looked at me curiously; and when we had mounted, said: "I'm
asking no questions, but yon was surely a bit summary dismissal!"
"It's just as well you are not, because I am afraid I should not answer
them," I said, and Mackay frowned upon his subordinate when Cotton
laughed.
We had ridden a league before he vouchsafed any explanation. "I could
not call in my other men in time, and as we may have to divide forces,
demanded your assistance in virtue of the powers entrusted me," he said
formally. "We'll call first at Gordon's on the odd chance our man is
there, and pick up Adams, though Lane's away hot-foot for the rail by
now, I'm thinking. He had no' a bad nerve to cut it so fine."
"Did the confounded rascal know there was a warrant out?" I gasped,
almost pulling my horse up in my indignation, as I remembered Boone's
hint.
"We did not advertise the fact, but yon man knows everything, and I'm
no' saying it's quite impossible," Mackay answered dryly. "But what ails
ye that ye're drawing bridle, Harry Ormesby?"
I drove the spurs in the next second and shot clear a length ahead, and,
though the Bonaventure horses were good, the others had hard work to
catch me during the next mile or two. If Lane suspected the issue of the
warrant, he had victimized us to the end, for he had tricked us into
furnishing him with not only the means of escape, but sufficient ready
money to start him upon a fresh career in another land. We met Boone and
Haldane returning from Gordon's ranch, and while the former advised the
sergeant that Lane must be well on his way to the station by this time,
I drew Haldane aside and hurriedly related what had happened at
Bonaventure.
"Lane is a capable rascal, and will certainly catch the westbound train.
There is little to be gained either by wiring the bank," he said. "He
insisted on taking a large share in paper currency, and as the draft
was one I had by me, he would no doubt arrange for his friends to cash
it before I could warn the drawer. Do you know the bureau you smashed in
cost me sixty dollars, Ormesby?"
I was endeavoring to express my contrition when Haldane laughed. "I am
not sure that you are the only person responsible for the destruction of
my furniture."
Mackay had started before our conversation was finished, and it cost
Boone and me a long gallop to come up with him, while it was only by
dint of hard riding that we eventually reached the station some hours
after the departure of the train. Mackay first of all wired to the
stations down the line, and then explained: "That's just a useless duty.
Yon man is keen enough to know he might find the troopers waiting for
him. He'll leave the cars at the flag station where there's nobody to
detain him, and, buying a horse at the first ranch, strike south for the
border. It would be desirable that we grip him before he reaches it."
Because various formalities must be gone through before a Canadian
offender is handed over by the Americans, this was clear enough, though
I did not see how it was to be accomplished, until Mackay had exchanged
high words with the station agent. A freight locomotive and an empty
stock car rolled out of the siding, and we took our places therein, men
and horses together.
"Sorry I haven't got a new bogie drawing-room for you, but it's getting
time the police gave some other station a share of their business," said
the exasperated railroad official. I also overheard him tell the
engineer: "You have got to be back by daylight, and needn't be
particular about shaking them."
It was not the fault of the engineer if he did not shake the life out of
us. Canadian lines are neither metalled nor ballasted with much
solidity; and with only one car to steady it the huge machine appeared
to leap over each inequality of the track. There was also nipping frost
in the air, the prairie glittered under the stars, and bitter draughts
pulsed through the lurching car. It was not an easy matter to keep the
horses on their feet or to maintain our own balance, but the swish of
the dust and the rattle of flung-up ballast brought some comfort as an
indication of our speed.
"It's a steeplechase already," gasped Boone, holding on by a head-rope
as we roared across a bridge. "I looked at the gauge-glass, and the
engineer can hardly have full steam up yet. We'll be lucky to escape
with whole limbs when he has."
The prediction was fully justified, for the bouncing, jolting, and
hammering increased with the pace, and I made most of the journey
holding fast by a very cold rail as for my life, while half-seen through
the rush of ballast I watched the prairie race past. When one could look
forward there was nothing visible but a field of dancing stars and a
smear of white below, athwart which the blaze of the great headlamp
drove onwards with the speed of a comet. All of us were thankful when
the locomotive was pulled up before a lonely shed, and while we dragged
the horses out the man who drove it, grinning at his stoker, said: "I
guess there's no bonus for beating the record on this contract?"
"No," said Mackay dryly. "Ye have the satisfaction of knowing ye served
the State."
By good fortune we found a sleepy man in the galvanized iron shed, and
he informed us that Lane had alighted from the last train and started on
foot towards the nearest ranch, which lay about a league away. Inside of
fifteen minutes we were pounding on its door, and the startled owner
said that the man we asked for had bought a good horse from him, and
inquired the shortest route to the American frontier.
"Four hours' start," said Mackay, as we proceeded again. "Ye can add
another three for the making of inquiries and searching for his trail.
It will be a close race, I'm thinking."
It certainly proved so, as well as a long one, because we lost much time
halting at lonely ranches, and still more in riding in wrong directions;
for Lane had evidently picked up somebody, perhaps a contrabandist,
well versed in the art of laying a false trail. Neither did he strike
straight for the border, and after dividing and joining forces several
times, it was late one evening when we found ourselves close behind him.
"Oh, yes! A man like that paid me forty dollars to swap horses with him
and his partner, it might be an hour ago," said the last rancher at
whose dwelling we stopped. "Seemed in a mighty hurry to reach Montana.
How long might it take you to reach the frontier? Well, that's a
question of horses, and I've no more in my corral. You ought to get
there by daylight, or a little earlier. Follow the wheel trail and
you'll see a boundary stake on the edge of the big _coulee_ to the left
of it."
Though we had twice changed horses, our beasts were jaded; but there was
solace in the thought that Lane was an indifferent rider, and must have
almost reached the limits of his endurance, while, though used to the
saddle, I was too tired to retain more than a blurred impression of that
last night's ride. There was no moon, but the blue heavens were thick
with twinkling stars, and the prairie glittered faintly under the white
hoar frost. It swelled into steeper rises than those we were used to,
while at times we blundered down the crumbling sides of deep hollows,
destitute of verdure, in which the bare earth rang metallically beneath
the hoofs. Still, the wheel trail led straight towards the south, and,
aching all over, we pushed on, as best we could, until I grew too drowsy
even to notice my horse's stumbles or to speculate what the end would
be. Before that happened, however, I had considered the question and
decided that there was no need for any scruples in seizing Lane if the
chance fell to me. We had merely promised to refrain from pressing one
particular charge against the fugitive, and were willing to keep our
bargain, though he on his part had deceived us into making it.
At last, when only conscious of the cruel jolting and the thud of tired
hoofs which rose and fell in a drowsy cadence through the silence,
Mackay's voice roused me, and I fancied I made out two mounted figures
faintly projected against the sky ahead. "Yon's them, and ye'll each do
your best. We're distressfully close on the frontier now," he said.
Once more the spurs sank into the jaded beast, and when it responded I
became suddenly wide awake. It was bitterly cold and that hour in the
morning when man's vitality sinks to its lowest ebb; but one and all
braced themselves for the final effort. Boone, in spite of all that I
could do, drew out ahead, and we followed as best we might, blundering
down into gullies and over rises where the grass grew harsh and high,
while thrice we lost the man who led us as well as the fugitives.
Nevertheless, they hove into sight again before a league had passed, and
it even seemed that we gained a little on the one who lagged behind,
until, at last, the blue of the heavens faded, and grayness gathered in
the east.
It spread over half the horizon; the two figures before us grew more
distinct; and Boone rode almost midway between ourselves and them, when,
as though by magic, the first one disappeared. Mackay roared to Cotton
when, topping a rise, there opened before us a winding hollow, and
Boone, wheeling his horse, waved an arm warningly.
"It's the wrong man doubling. Come on your hardest until the trail
forks, and then try left and right!" he shouted before he, too, sank
from view beneath the edge of the hollow.
There were birches in the ravine as well as willow groves, and the
fugitives had vanished among them, leaving no trace behind. There were,
unfortunately, also several trails, and, because time was precious, the
noise we made pressing up and down them would have prevented our hearing
any sound. Mackay, who in spite of this, sat still listening, used a
little illicit language, and rated Cotton for no particular cause, while
I had managed to entangle myself in a thicket, when Boone's voice fell
sharply from the opposite rise: "Gone away! He has taken to the open!"
With many a stumble we compassed the steep ascent, and, as we gained
the summit, the growing light showed me a solitary figure already
diminishing down a stretch of level prairie. "It's our last chance!"
roared Mackay, pointing to what looked like a break in the grasses
ahead. "I'm fearing yon's the boundary."
Our beasts were worn out, their riders equally so; but we called up the
last of our failing strength to make a creditable finish of the race.
The _coulee_ was left behind us, and Lane's figure grew larger ahead,
for Mackay, who certainly did not wish to, declared he could see no
boundary post. Then as the first crimson flushed the horizon, a lonely
homestead rose out of the grass, and when Lane rode straight for it the
sergeant swore in breathless gasps. A little smoke curled from its
chimney, for the poorer ranchers rise betimes in that country. We saw
Lane drop from the saddle and disappear within the door, while when we
drew bridle before it, two gaunt brown-faced men came out and regarded
us stolidly.
"What place is this?" asked Mackay with a gasp.
One of them seemed to consider before he answered him: "Well, it's
generally allowed to be Todhunter's Wells."
"That's not what I want," said the sergeant. "Where's the boundary?"
This time the other man laughed as he pointed backwards across the
prairie we had traversed.
"'Bout a league behind you. No, sir; you're not in Canada. This, as the
song says, is 'the land of the free.' You'll find the big stake by the
_coulee_, if you don't believe me."
"Beaten!" said Mackay, dropping his bridle; and added aside: "Whisky
smugglers by their manners, I'm thinking." As we endeavored to master
our disappointment, Lane himself appeared in the doorway. He looked very
weary, his fleshy face was haggard and mottled by streaks of gray; but
the humorous gleam I hated shone mockingly in his eyes.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Sergeant, but you can't complain about the
chase!" he said. "Even Cannuck policemen and amateur detectives aren't
recognized here; and as there are two respectable witnesses, I'm afraid
you'll have to apply to the Washington authorities. You can tell Mr.
Haldane, Ormesby, that there's no use in stopping his check. I don't
think there is anything else I need say, except that, as I have booked
all the accommodation here, they might give you breakfast at the ranch
in the _coulee_."
He actually nodded to us, and thrusting his hands into his pockets,
leaned against the lintel of the door with an air of amusement which was
not needed to remind us that he was master of the situation, and for the
last time set my blood on fire. There was, however, nothing to be gained
by virulence, and when Mackay, who disdained to answer a word, wheeled
his jaded horse, we silently followed him towards the _coulee_.
"I wish the Americans joy of him," the grizzled sergeant said, at
length. "There's just one bit consolation--we can very well spare him;
and ye'll mind what the douce provost said in the song--'Just e'en let
him be; the toon is weel quit o' that deil o' Dundee.'"
Boone, smiling curiously, closed with the speaker. "There is one thing I
expected he did not do, and as it could hardly be due to magnanimity, he
must have forgotten it," he said. "You will not go back empty-handed,
Sergeant. Are you aware that you hold a warrant for me?"
Mackay pulled his horse up and stared at him. "I cannot see the point of
yon joke," he said.
"There isn't one," was the answer. "Now that my work is finished, I see
no further need of hiding the fact that, while you knew me as Adams, my
name is--Boone."
Mackay still stared at him, then laughed a little, as it were in
admiration, but silently. "I'm understanding a good deal now--and that
was why ye helped run yon thief down. Well, I'll take your parole, and
I'm thinking ye will have little trouble since the prosecutor's gone."