THE NEUTRALS
It was the evident purpose of the Scarboroughs to gloss over their
misdemeanors by an affectation of jovial good-humor, but the victim
of the jest sat back with narrowed eyes while he glanced from them to
Meshackatee.
"Oh, I see," he said, with a mirthless smile, "this is supposed to be a
joke."
"That's the idea," responded Meshackatee, "but it didn't work out. We
thought all the time you was a Bassett."
"And if I had been?" inquired Hall, and Isham looked up from where he
was untying the ropes.
"We'd a stretched your damned neck," he replied succinctly. "Plain
shooting is too good for them rascals."
"And what now?" went on the stranger, "do I get my horse back, with an
apology for all this rough treatment; or must I----"
"You do not!" returned Isham. "We don't apologize to nobody. You're
lucky to git off alive."
"Very well," answered Hall, and the tone of his voice suggested
reprisals to come.
"What d'ye mean?" flared up Isham. "You're pretty danged fresh for a
man that's jest saved his neck."
"Perhaps so," he assented. "Am I still your prisoner, or am I free to
go?"
"You'll wait until I ask you a few more questions." And Isham beckoned
his brother to one side. They talked together with their eyes on their
prisoner, and then Isham Scarborough returned. Though he was the leader
of the gang, both Red and Meshackatee seemed to regard him with scant
respect; yet he was their spokesman, being by nature loud and boastful,
while Red was watchful and silent, and he began with some general
remarks.
"Now lookee here, my friend," he said, stepping closer and looking his
prisoner in the eye, "you don't want to think, jest because you're bad,
that anybody around here's afraid of you. The _hombre_ don't live that
can make me apologize, and you'd better not make any threats; but if
you'll answer a few questions and act like a gentleman we'll let you
go into the Basin. Now, who is this feller that you're looking for so
hard--and does he belong to the Bassetts or the Scarboroughs?"
"Not to either, that I know of--he may not be in the Basin--but I give
you my word that this mission of mine has nothing to do with your
quarrel."
"Yes, but what's his name?" persisted Isham shrewdly. "If we knowed who
he was we could danged soon find out for you----"
"I cannot give his name," answered the stranger firmly, and Isham
reared up his head.
"Aw, let 'im go on," broke in Red John impatiently. "But say, what
about that horse?"
"Well, make your own talk," replied Isham sulkily, and Red came over
with a grin.
"That's all right, pardner," he said, "sorry to make you any trouble
but we've got to keep watch of these trails. Now about that horse,
he's got a New Mexico brand on him and that's liable to git you into
trouble; but I've got a big bay that everybody knows, and jest to ride
him will git you by anywhere. I'll trade you the bay and ten dollars to
boot----"
"No, I'm sorry," returned Hall, "but my horse is a pet and I couldn't
consider a trade."
"Give you twenty-five dollars!" urged Red John eagerly, but the
stranger shook his head.
"No," he said. "And now can I go?"
"You can go," spoke up Isham, "but I'll have to send along a guide to
protect you against the Bassetts. Because if they ketch you now, after
you've been stopping with us----"
"I can protect myself," answered the stranger shortly, and Red broke
into a laugh.
"Why didn't you do it, then?" he taunted, "when we nabbed you by the
spring? I reckon you're pretty green in these parts."
"Yes, I'm green," admitted Hall, "but I'm beginning to learn--and I'm
willing to take a chance on the Bassetts."
"Oh, you think they ain't so bad, eh?" broke in Isham intolerantly.
"Well, let me tell you a few things about the Bassetts. They're a cross
between a horsethief and a Digger Injun squaw, and they's more than one
man that's dropped suddenly out of sight while he was riding across
their range. They're the most treacherous dastards that ever was born
and them that knows 'em best trusts 'em least. They're jest naturally
bad with a yaller stripe down their belly as broad as the flat of your
hand. They'll do everything but _fight_, and you can't crowd 'em to
it--not if you call 'em every name you can lay your tongue to. And
they're the orneriest-looking rascals that a white man ever seen--like
an Injun, but black as niggers. You ain't going to throw in with an
outfit like that--and call yourself a Southerner?"
"Whoever said I was going to throw in with them?" demanded Hall with
outraged dignity. "Haven't I told you distinctly that I am just going
through the country and that I don't give _that_ for your quarrels?"
"Yes, you've told me," retorted Isham, "but perhaps I don't believe
you. I wasn't born yesterday, and if you don't want to join them why do
you object to going in with Meshackatee?"
"I _don't_ object!" replied the prisoner tartly, "and if that's a
condition I agree to it. But since my word of honor means nothing to
you gentlemen I must ask permission to withdraw it."
"W'y, sure!" mocked Isham, bowing low and with a smirk. "By grab, boys;
we've sure caught a preacher."
"Nope, he ain't no preacher," corrected Meshackatee grimly. "And say,
if we're going, let's start."
"Take him over to the Rock House, then," ordered Isham gruffly, "and
don't let him git away."
"Very well, sir," answered Meshackatee, and with a half-mocking salute
he led his prisoner away.
They were well up the trail before either of them spoke and then
Meshackatee broke the silence.
"I'll take your word of honor," he said, "that you won't try to quit me
on the trail. They'll hold me responsible, now."
"You have it," replied Hall at length, "but I must say I'm surprised to
find a man like you in the company of such unprincipled hounds."
"Oh, they ain't so bad," responded Meshackatee cheerfully, "except
when Isham runs off at the head. He makes more enemies by shooting off
his mouth than he can hire gunmen at ten dollars a day. That's me,
you understand--I'm a hired bravo, as they call us in the _Geronimo
Blade_--but when a man buys my services he doesn't buy _me_, and I
think what I dad-blamed please."
"Well, what do you think, then, of the Scarboroughs' methods of holding
up strangers on the trail? I've seen some rough work but the way they
treated me made the blood fairly boil in my veins!"
"It sure makes 'em sore," observed Meshackatee philosophically, "to
be roped that way at the spring. And that hangman's knot and all, it's
downright insulting--a man never quite gits over it."
"No, he doesn't," assented Hall, and rode on in brooding silence, for
he was still in the hands of his enemies.
"And yet," went on Meshackatee, "it ain't what they do so much as the
way they do it. You can take a man's gun without jabbing him in the
belly and threatening to leave him for the buzzards; and if you'd give
'em a few drinks and kinder jolly 'em along the chances are that most
of 'em would join. But that's the Scarboroughs--overbearing as hell,
and nobody but a Teehanno will stand for 'em. Jest the minute they see
your rigging they was dead set agin ye, because a Texican won't admit
that a single-cinch saddle can be rode by a scholar and a gentleman.
It's all double-rig with them, and tie to the horn; and any man that
comes by with a dallywelta outfit is due to get a hazing. But I'm
broadminded myself and I sure throwed the hooks into 'em when I was
telling about One-eyed Tex. I was looking for Red to come through that
stone door when I made that last crack about Texicans, and I still
maintain that you can't hurt a Teehanno by hitting him on the 'haid.'
I've heard 'em admit it themselves. And what I was telling you about
them being from Uvalde is true as gospel script. They're the prize
cow-thieves in the world, bar none."
"Then how can you reconcile the matter with your conscience, if you
accept money which has been gotten by stealing cows?"
Meshackatee grinned and scratched his shaggy beard; after a sudden,
searching glance at his prisoner.
"Well, in the first place," he said, "my conscience ain't the kind that
worries much over trifles; and in the second place this money never
come from stealing cows--it's all in brand-new bills."
"New bills!" repeated Hall, and then, after silence, "well, where do
they get these bills?"
"Search me," shrugged Meshackatee, still watching him narrowly, "_is
that what you come to find out_?"
"Why--why no!" exclaimed Hall. "Why certainly not. What gave you such a
curious idea?"
"Ain't you an officer?" challenged Meshackatee. "I won't hold it agin
ye--might even be an officer myself! No? Honest? Gimme your word of
honor? Well, somehow I can't hardly believe it. I go by hunches, see;
and the first time I saw you I says: 'There goes an officer!' But if
you ain't, you ain't--and I know it's danged unhealthy for an officer
that's caught in these parts--but it's the common report that this
money of the Scarboroughs' was taken from a Government paymaster."
"I see!" nodded Hall, and his eyes flashed sudden fire though his face
remained fixed like a mask.
"Yes," went on Meshackatee after waiting for him to speak, "and the
Government never forgets. Somebody robbed the ambulance and shot two
or three soldiers, right up on the Camp Verde road; and you're the
kind of man, if I was picking 'em out, that I'd send in to look the
matter up."
"Nevertheless," returned Hall, "I must beg you to believe that I have
nothing to do with such work. I am a private citizen and the mission
I am on will not injure a human being in the world. I admit there was
a time when I was drawn into a struggle that left a certain mark on
my face; but that time is past, and some day, I trust, the marks will
be less apparent. In brief, while I may have the look of a fighter, I
come into this country with malice towards no man. I intend to remain
strictly neutral."
"H'm; 'neutral,' eh?" sniffed Meshackatee, shifting his ponderous bulk
and striking back the hair from one ear, "do you see that little mark
on my ear? Well, that broke me of being neutral."
Hall looked, and the lower lobe of the ear had been sliced down and
left dangling by a segment--that's what the cowmen call a "jinglebob."
"I got that," went on Meshackatee, "in the Lincoln County War, when
Billy the Kid was still working for Chisholm and branding every
cow-brute he could rope. He'd ride along the road with a bunch of them
tough cowboys, take the oxen out of them Mexican freight-teams and
brand 'em while they was still in the yoke. That was Billy the Kid; but
me, I was neutral--I wouldn't have no truck with such doings. Well,
one night I was camping with another outsider when this outfit rode
up--drunk.
"'Who ye fur?'" they says, and I speaks my little piece.
"'I'm neutral,' I says, and they ropes me.
"'A neutral's a maverick on this here range,' they says, and I'm a
doggoned Mexican if they didn't jinglebob my ears and burn a big
fence-rail on my ribs. Don't believe it, hey? Well, take a look at that
and tell me if you're still a neutral!"
He tore open his shirt and exposed a long, red line, burned deep into
the tender flesh--then struck back the hair from his ears.
"That's the old Chisholm brand," he nodded grimly, "and they ran it
on my pardner, too. He was a revengeful sort of cuss and tapped two
of 'em, later; but me, I jest let my hair grow long and moved on to
Arizona. But I've switched my system now, and whichever side is on the
prod I throw right in with them. It's the only way to do--ain't it
the innocent bystander that always gits shot in the neck? There's no
principle involved--one's as bad as the other--so what's the use of
being a fool? I'm out for the ready money. I'm a hired bravo, drawing
my ten dollars a day and doing the heavy thinking for the gang; and if
you want to join in with us while you're looking for this party I'll
see that you get a job. Don't even have to stay with us if you don't
like Isham's ways--go over and join the Bassetts and you'd be worth
that much more than you would be sticking around with the gang. But
whatever you do, for cripes' sake don't stay neutral. You can see what
happened to me!"
He brushed back the hair over his slit and mangled ears and a steely
look came into his eyes.
"I'm looking for a certain party myself," he said. "Reckon we all
are--would you like to come in?"
"With you--yes," assented Hall, "but never with the Scarboroughs. I
have taken a great dislike to Isham and his kind--and the ills which
come to a man who stays neutral are nothing to what happens to a
partisan. The partisan must fight whether he is right or wrong or be
branded a traitor by his clan; and if for one moment he shows kindness
to an enemy he is hounded by both sides alike. That is the unforgivable
sin--any sign of humanity, any suggestion that the butchery should
cease--and as the fighting goes on the worst element takes the lead
while men of finer feeling drop out. And to drop out is to be branded a
coward. But no man is truly brave until, for a principle, he is willing
to be called a coward. And here--since you have shown me the rewards of
being neutral, there is mine for being a partisan!"
He stripped back his shirt--from the same left side that Meshackatee
had bared to show his brand--and there, between two ribs, was a smooth
round hole, where a bullet had passed through his body. It was a mere
pit of red against the white skin, and just above the scar his heart
beat on rhythmically as if nothing could still its pulse. Meshackatee
stared, then leaned over closer and glanced up with a scared look in
his eyes.
"How'd you happen to live?" he asked at last, and the stranger pointed
solemnly to the sky.
"A miracle!" he said, "if miracles still happen to men as unworthy as
I am. I was left for dead--and so I still remain to those who sought
my life--but I crawled to a cave and recovered from my wound without
medicine or care of any kind. In the mountains my name is added to the
list of those who have died in the feud; but God has spared me--or so I
think--to bring peace once more to Tug Fork."
"And where's that?" demanded Meshackatee, still staring at him
curiously; and the stranger seemed to wake from a trance.
"I shouldn't have said that!" he burst out regretfully, "I shouldn't
have mentioned Tug Fork. But as you are a gentleman----" He paused
expectantly and Meshackatee held out his hand.
"Enough said!" he exclaimed, and they clasped hands in silence. For
between gentlemen what need is there for words?