A BAD BUSINESS.
Captives? Far from it--save to their own reckless disregard of life and
limb, and all for a bit of hitherto untested fun.
Shrieking with laughter at the success of their experiment, they rolled
and floundered on the ground, till the laughter changed to cries of pain
as their restless writhings to and fro drove their self-inflicted bonds
deeper into the flesh.
By some dexterity they got upon their feet, at last, and one implored:
"Oh! you Pedro! or you, man! Cut us loose, can't you? Don't you see we
can't do it ourselves?"
Mr. Hale adjusted his eyeglasses and looked rather helplessly toward the
shepherd; but that phlegmatic person was working away on his wonderful
basket as stolidly as if there was none beside himself upon the mesa.
"Oh! you hateful old Pedro! Cut us free, I tell you! Ain't I your
master? You'd do it mighty quick for 'Lady Jess.'"
The frightened little fellow, whose fun had now ebbed into a terrible
fear of an indefinite bondage, began to whimper, and Mr. Hale to act. A
few sharp slashings of the horsehair thongs and the captives were free
to express their delight in a series of somersaults, which were only
arrested by sight of Prince in the distance, holding up his injured foot
and seeking for some pasture amid the dry herbage.
"Hello! That horse is new. Is he yours, mister? What's the matter with
him? Humph! I guess you're new, too, aren't you? I never saw you in our
valley before. Where's your ranch?"
The questioner was a blue-eyed, fair-haired little chap whose close
resemblance to Jessica proclaimed him her brother; but he was younger,
sturdier, and less courteous than she. Yet his prolonged stare at the
stranger had less of rudeness than surprise in it, and Mr. Hale laughed
at the frank inspection.
"You look rather 'new' yourself, my man. About eight years, aren't
you?"
"How'd you guess?"
"Lads of my own."
"Where?"
"Several thousand miles away, over the Atlantic coast."
"Why didn't you fetch 'em?"
"Couldn't afford it."
"Oh! couldn't you? H-m-m." Then he turned his attention to Pedro, with
the remark: "Why aren't you sick, like 'Tonio said? Making my sister
come way up here for nothing. Don't you dare do that again, I tell you.
You're just as well as ever, and I smell coffee. Come on, Luis!"
Catching his mate around the shoulders the boy rushed into the hut,
only to be as promptly banished from it. With a swiftness matching the
children's own, the shepherd had followed and caught the pair, a lad
in either hand, and flung them out of doors, exactly as one might a
couple of mischievous kittens. Evidently, what was permissible to "Lady
Jess" was forbidden these, though they were not at all disturbed by
their sudden ejection. Such incidents were too familiar, and, having
landed in one heap upon the ground, they immediately fell to wrestling
as if this were the business they had originally intended. Now the
black head of Spanish Luis was uppermost, now the sunnier one of Ned,
with a flying jumble of vari-colored hands and feet, till Pedro came
out and offered to each contestant a cup of cold, but well-sweetened
coffee.
This meant instant truce and they carried their treat to the bench
Mr. Hale had occupied, leaving him to stand or sit upon the ground,
as he preferred. He chose the latter and near enough to hear their eager
chatter, which was still full of indignation against the shepherd's
robust health.
"'Cause he ought to been dead, 'most. And my mother wanting Jess the
worst ever was. 'Cause Wun Lung cut hisself."
"Maybe Wun Lung die now, maybe," suggested Luis, with hopeful
heartlessness.
"Pshaw! No, he won't. Chinamen don't. You never saw one, Luis Garcia.
Hi! Look at Zulu. Hi! Keno, Keno, Keno! Oh, Wow!"
By a mutual impulse, Prince and the ostrich had put as wide a space
between themselves as possible, and the latter had strolled close to
Pedro's quiet flock before he had perceived it. This was evident, even
from the distance; but now up rose Keno, the collie, and with angry
yelps rushed fearlessly upon the great bird.
King Zulu hesitated but an instant before he turned his back upon his
assailant and made all speed over the bluff into the canyon below.
"Well, of all cowards! A creature that could have killed the dog with
one kick of his foot!" cried Mr. Hale, amazed.
"Huh! No, he couldn't. Kill you or Pedro. Kill that old horse of
yours, easy as scat. Can't kick low down as Keno. Huh! Guess I know
more about ostriches than you do," exulted Ned, in whose opinion the
stranger had now greatly fallen.
"Huh! Don't know about ostrichers!" echoed Luis, loyally, and was
rewarded by a friendly slap from his pattern and playmate.
Roused by the disturbance of his sheep, Pedro hurried to quiet them,
but, as he passed, fixed a piercing gaze upon the stranger's face. The
scrutiny seemed to partially reassure him, for he observed:
"Horse lame, Zulu gone, catch burro, yes. Let the feet which take the
trail be young, not feeble and unused. But to him who journeys with evil
in his heart evil will surely come. The widow and the orphan belong to
God. Indeed, yet. 'Ware, Antonio."
Mr. Hale reflected swiftly. He smiled at thought of his own long legs
bestriding the low back of the donkey, but a memory of that heated trail
down which he must pass to reach the nearest house, decided the matter.
While the small owners of the burro were improving the time of the
shepherd's absence to ransack his dwelling the sturdy little animal
bore its accustomed rider out of sight.
Meanwhile, Jessica's moccasined feet were flying down the slope, her
blue skirts and scarlet Tam making a moving spot of color against the
sandy glare of the canyon wall, and long before she came within hailing
distance catching the eyes of one who eagerly awaited her approach.
This was John Benton, the carpenter and general utility man at Sobrante;
who had come up the opposite side of the canyon, where were many huge
bowlders, a few trees, and no trail at all. Indeed, a passage along
that face of the gulch was difficult in extreme, and so dangerous that
it must have been serious business which brought a lame man thither.
Fortunately for his patience, the girl paused for breath at a point
level with his own narrow perch upon a shelving rock, and where there was
no great width of the V-shaped chasm.
"Lady Jess! Oh! I say! Miss Jessica! Lady Jess!"
The girl looked about her, up and down, everywhere save to the further
side where nobody ever went if it could be avoided. But she answered,
cheerily:
"_Hola!_ Coo'ee! Coo'ee! Who are you?"
The man made a trumpet of his hands and shouted back:
"The flume! Look east--to the flume!"
She followed his example and called through her own fingers:
"What's wrong? How came you there?"
He pointed downward, and she shaded her eyes from the blinding sunshine
to see why, but could discover nothing new in the familiar scene.
"The water! That's where it goes! The flume is cut!"
Even at that pitch, his tones were full of excited indignation, and her
own anger leaped at once.
"Somebody's cut the flume? Who dared! Wait--wait--I'm coming!"
"No, no! Don't. You can't help it--you'll break your neck! Oh! Lady
Jess!"
"I'm coming! Wait for me!"
The carpenter laughed. "Might have known she would, and wanted she
should, I suppose. Surest-footed little thing in the world. Guess I
needn't fret. Though when I think what this old ranch would be without
her, I don't feel any great call to send her into danger, myself. My!
she's as nimble as a squirrel! Down to the bottom a'ready. Up this side
in a jiffy, and won't her blue eyes snap when she sees this lowdown
trick? If I knew whose job it was, well, I'm a peaceable man if I'm
let, but there wouldn't be room enough in this here valley for the two
of us. And it's all on a piece with the rest. One thing after another.
There's a snake in this wigwam, but which 'tis? H-m-m! Beats me.
Beats me clear to Jericho."
Then he fell to watching the slower, steady ascent of Jessica, who had
descended the further side so swiftly, and who had clambered lightly
enough over the roughness of the gulch bottom; at times filled with a
roaring torrent, but now quite dry after a long, hot summer.
"Well, here I am!"
"And a sorry sight to show you. Look a' that now. Isn't that a regular
coyote piece of work?"
Along this face of the canyon descended a line of small wooden troughs,
closely joined, and supported upon slender but strong cedar uprights.
This flume connected with the distant reservoir of an irrigating
company and had been built by Jessica's dead father at a great and
ill-afforded expense. But of all good things there was nothing so
precious to the tillers of that thirsty land as water, and the cutting
off of this supply meant ruin to Sobrante.
Young as she was, Jessica fully understood this, though she could not
understand that any human being should do a deed so dastardly.
"John Benton, you mustn't say that. Some of the cattle have done
it. It's an accident. It can be mended. I'm sorry, of course, but
so thankful you found it. And I see you've got your tools."
"Oh! I can mend it, all right, but it won't stay mended. You'll see.
'Tisn't the first break I've patched, not by any means."
"Of course it isn't. Only last week in that stampede, when the boys
were changing pasture, the creatures ran against it and you fixed it,
good as new. There isn't anything you can't do with an ax and a few
nails."
John passed the compliment by unheeding.
"There's breaks and there's cuts. Reckon I can tell the difference
quick enough. This is a cut and isn't the first one I've found, I say.
'Twas a fresh-ground blade did this piece of deviltry, or I'm no judge
of edges. Now, who did it? Why? And how's old Pedro?"
Despite her faith in her friends, the small ranchwoman's heart sank.
"He--he--why, he isn't sick at all! I was sent up there on a fool's
errand, and just on plucking-day, when I was so needed at home. With Wun
Lung hurt and mother so busy, I ought to have a dozen pairs of hands.
Of course, I'm glad he's well, dear old fellow, but I shouldn't have
gone this morning if somebody hadn't told Antonio wrong. I met a
stranger on the trail, too, and Zulu scared his horse, and it stumbled
in a gopher hole or something and is lamed for ever so long. He'll
likely come to Sobrante, if he can get there, but he looked ill if Pedro
didn't, and the sun nearly overcame him. Can't I help you hold that
board?"
John accepted her offer of help less because he needed it than because
he always liked to have her near him.
"So 'twas Antonio sent you, eh? H-m-m!"
"He didn't send me. Course not. He just said somebody said Pedro was
dying."
The carpenter laughed, but his mirth was not pleasant.
"Queer how stories get mixed, even in this lonesome place. There; you
needn't hold that. Your little hands aren't so very strong, helpful
as they may be. This isn't any great of a job; it 'twould only stay,
once 'twas finished!"
"Then I'll go. Maybe I'd better send up one of the boys to help you.
Shall I? Who do you want?"
Upon the point of declining, the carpenter changed his mind.
"Yes, you may. I wish you would. Send Antonio."
"Send--Antonio! Why, I should as soon think of 'sending' that stranger
I told you about. You're teasing me, for you know well that Antonio is
the only one who ever 'sends' Antonio. Even my mother, who has a
right to 'send' everybody on the ranch whither she will, never orders
the manager. Well, good-by. You shall have a nice dinner out of the
house-kitchen to pay for your hard climb."
"Take care where you step in your hurry, and just try that word on the
'senor.' Tell him there's a bit of a break in the flume I'd like his
advice about."
The workman's laugh followed the girl down the rough and perilous way,
and just as she passed out of hearing came the parting shot:
"Send Antonio."
"H-m-m! I don't see what it all means. First is old Pedro, with his
grim ''Ware Antonio!' And now John Benton speaks in that queer way, as
if there were two meanings to his words. Heigho! I hear somebody coming
up. I wonder who!"
Hurrying downward as fast as the uneven path allowed, her own softly-shod
feet making no noise, she reached a turn of the road and suddenly
slackened her pace. The man approaching was one of the few whom she
feared and disliked.
"Ferd, the dwarf!"
Instinctively, she hid behind a clump of shrubbery and waited for him
to pass, hoping he would not see her. He did not. He was too engrossed
in handling, apparently counting, something within a deep basket that
hung on his arm, and his bare feet loped around over the rocks as easily
as they would have carried him across the level mesa.
As soon as he had gone by Lady Jess started onward, but she had grown
even more thoughtful.
"That's queer. Antonio must need Ferd to-day if ever he does. Indeed,
nobody seems able to serve him as well as that poor half-wit. What could
he have had in his basket? And--ha! how came _this_ here?"
With a cry of surprise she lifted a small, soft object from the ground
before her and regarded it in gathering dismay.