THE PRISONERS
I had no great difficulty in persuading the immigrants to rest over.
"To tell you the truth," the narrator confided to me, "I don't know
where we're going. We have no money. We've got to get work somehow. I
don't know now why we came."
His name, he told me, was George Woodruff; he had been a lawyer in a
small Pennsylvania town; his total possessions were now represented by
the remains of his ox team, his wagon, and the blankets in which he
slept. The other man was his brother Albert, and the woman his
sister-in-law.
"We started with four wagons and a fine fit-out of supplies," he told
me--"food enough to last two years. This is what we have left. The
cattle aren't in bad shape now though; and they are extra fine stock.
Perhaps I can sell them for a little."
Two days passed. We arose the morning of the third to find that the oxen
had strayed away during the night. Deciding they could not have wandered
far, I went to my gold washing as usual, leaving Woodruff and his
brother to hunt them up. About ten o'clock they came to my claim very
much troubled.
"We can't find them anywhere," they told me, "and it doesn't seem
natural that they should stray far; they are too tired."
I knocked off work, and returned with them to the flat, where we
proceeded to look for tracks. The earth was too hard and tramped to show
us much, and after a half hour of fruitless examination we returned to
camp with the intention of eating something before starting out on a
serious search. While thus engaged the express messengers rode up.
"Hullo!" said Johnny cheerfully. "Glad to hear you made such a good
thing out of your cattle!"
He caught our stare of surprise, swung from his horse and advanced on us
with three swift strides.
"You haven't sold them?" he exclaimed.
"We've been looking for them all the morning."
"Stolen, boys!" he cried to his companions. "Here's our job! Come on!"
He leaped on his horse in the headlong, graceful fashion the boys had
cultivated at the relay station, and, followed by Cal and Old, dashed
away.
We made nothing definite of this, though we had our surmises to
exchange. As the boys had not returned an hour later, I resumed my
digging while the Woodruffs went over to visit with Yank, who was now
out of bed. Evening came, with no sign of our friends. We turned in at
last.
Some time after midnight we were awakened by the shuffling and lowing of
driven cattle, and went out into the moonlight to see our six oxen, just
released from herding, plunging their noses thirstily into the little
stream from the spring. Five figures on horseback sat motionless in the
background behind them. When the cattle had finished drinking, the
horsemen, riding in two couples and one single, turned them into the
flat, and then came over to our camp.
After they had approached within plain sight we saw that the single
horseman was Cal Marsh; and that Johnny and Old each led an animal on
which a man was tied, his arms behind him, his feet shackled beneath the
horse's barrel.
"Here, you fellows," said Johnny in a low voice, "just catch hold here
and help with these birds."
The three descended rather wearily from their horses, the lead lines of
which Cal held while the rest unshackled the prisoners and helped them
to dismount. They were both known to me, one as the big desperado,
Malone; and the other as the barkeeper at Morton's place, our old friend
of Chagres days. The latter's head was roughly bound with a bloody
cloth. Under Johnny's direction we tied them firmly. He issued his
orders in a low-voiced, curt fashion that precluded anything but the
most instant and silent obedience.
"There," said he at last, "they'll do. Chuck them inside where they'll
be out of sight. Now about those two horses----"
"I'll just run 'em up to the Dutchman's Flat and stake 'em out thar,"
interposed Old. "Thar ain't no one thar; and they won't be discovered."
"Well," conceded Johnny, "if your horse isn't too tired."
"She'll make it," replied Old confidently.
"Now for our horses," said Johnny. "Won't do to be getting in at this
time of night. It doesn't look natural. Don't believe we can get them to
the stable without being spotted. Maybe you'd better stake them up there
too. Can you walk back?"
"I reckon," said Old.
He tied the four led horses together, mounted, took the lead rope from
Cal, and rode off up the gulch.
Cal came to the fire and sat down. I was instantly struck by his ghastly
appearance.
"Cal's bored through the shoulder," Johnny explained. "Now, Jim, you've
got to go up and get Dr. Rankin. He lives at Barnes's hotel, you know.
Barnes is all right; bring him down, too, if you happen to wake him up.
Go around to Danny Randall's quietly and tell him we want to see him. He
sleeps in that little back room. Throw some pebbles against the
stovepipe; that'll wake him up. Look out he doesn't pot you. Don't let
anybody see you if you can possibly help; and tell the others to slip
out here quietly, too. Do you understand all that?"
"I see what I'm to do," I assented; "but let me in! What's it all
about?"
"We met these men and three others driving Woodruff's oxen this
morning," said Johnny rapidly. "Stopped and had quite a chat with them.
They told what sounded like a straight story of having bought the oxen.
I knew Woodruff wanted to sell. Didn't suppose they'd have the nerve to
lift them right under our noses. Guess they hadn't an idea they'd meet
us on the road. We were taking the lower trail just for a change. So as
soon as we got the news from you, we went back, of course. They
suspected trouble, and had turned off. Old and Cal are wonders at
trailing. Came up with them just beyond Bitter Water, and monkeyed
around quite a while before we got a favourable chance to tackle them.
Then we took the cattle away and brought back these birds. That's all
there was to it."
"You said five. Where are the other three?"
"Killed 'em," said Johnny briefly. "Now run along and do your job."
After some delay and difficulty I fulfilled my instructions, returning
at last in company with Danny Randall, to find my friends sitting around
the little fire, and Dr. Rankin engaged in bathing Cal's wound. Johnny
was repeating his story, to which the others were listening attentively.
"I learned a little more of this sort of thing in Sacramento," he was
concluding. "And I'd like to state this right here and now: practical
jokes on these immigrants are poor taste as far as I am concerned from
now on. That's my own private declaration of war."
"Let's take a look at your birds, Johnny," suggested Randall.
I brought out the prisoners and stacked them up against the trees. They
gave us back look for look defiantly.
"You won't live a week after this," said the Morton man, whose name was
Carhart, addressing Johnny.
"I'll just have a look at your head, my friend," said Dr. Rankin.
The man bent his head, and the doctor began to remove the bloody
bandages.
"Question is," said Johnny, "what do we do with them?"
Danny was thinking hard.
"One of two things," said he at length: "We can string them up quietly,
and leave them as a warning; or we can force matters to a showdown by
calling a public meeting."
"Question is," said I, "whether we can get anybody with nerve enough to
serve as officers of court, or, indeed, to testify as witnesses."
"You said a true word there," put in Carhart with an oath.
"I'll bear witness for one," offered Dr. Rankin, looking up from his
work, "and on a good many things."
"Look out, damn you!" muttered Carhart.
"I've been called to a good many cases of gunshot wounds," continued the
doctor steadily, "and I've kept quiet because I was given to understand
that my life was worth nothing if I spoke."
"You'd better keep your mouth shut!" warned the bandit.
"Now," pursued the doctor, "I personally believe the time has come to
assert ourselves. I'm in favour of serving notice on the whole lot, and
cleaning up the mess once and for all. I believe there are more decent
men than criminals in this camp, if you get them together."
"That's my idea," agreed Johnny heartily. "Get the camp together; I'll
see every man in it and let Woodruff tell his tale, and then let Old or
me tell ours."
"And I'll tell mine," said Dr. Rankin.
Danny Randall shook his head.
"They'll rise to it like men!" cried Johnny indignantly. "Nobody but a
murderer and cattle thief listening to that story could remain unmoved."
"Well," said Danny, "if you won't just quietly hang these fellows right
now, try the other. I should string 'em up and shut their mouths. You're
too early; it won't do."