BLAZING THE TRAIL
The day after the arrival of his outfit was a Sunday, and he did no
unnecessary work. But on the Sunday afternoon he saddled one of the
prairie ponies and rode along the trail to Fort Laramie. Here he
presented his licence to the agent of the Pony Express Company and
asked to be engaged in the place of Jim Thurston, until Jim was able to
resume his job.
Kiddie's name was prominent in the records, his reputation as an
Express rider was not forgotten, and his request was readily granted.
"You'll start on Jim's western section five o'clock in the mornin',"
the agent intimated. "Thar's a dispatch--a very important Gov'ment
dispatch--comin' along. I'm givin' you the responsibility of carryin'
it to Drifting Smoke Crossing, where you'll transfer the mails to Roger
Picknoll. You'll find relay ponies waitin' as per usual at the stages
along the trail. And, say, you gotter be some keerful."
Kiddie smiled.
"D'you mean more'n ordinary careful?" he asked. "Isn't an Express
rider always careful?"
"You've hit it," nodded the agent. "I sure means more'n or'nary
keerful. Not only because of the dispatch. Nobody excep' the Gov'ment
keers a red cent 'bout that docyment. But thar's a gang o' road
agents--robbers an' horse thieves--at work along thar. They're liable
t' interfere with any rider, no matter who or what he may be, on the
chance of findin' valu'bles about him. Attacked a innercent, peaceful
traveller only last week, they did; robbed him, took his pony, an' left
him lyin' gagged an' bound an' senseless."
"Any idea who they are?" Kiddie inquired. "What's their partic'lar way
of workin'?"
"By all accounts they got a many ways," said the agent. "I dunno just
which report ter believe. One says they've the habit of disguisin'
theirselves as Red Injuns, another holds as they goes foolin' around as
or'nary cowboys, but wearin' face masks; an' another as they travels in
a faked-up conveyance that strangers might mistake for a stage coach.
But all agree that they're just desp'rate chara'ters all round. As to
who they are, well, I dunno no more'n you. All I knows is that one o'
the wust of the hull gang's a man named Nick Undrell."
"Nick Undrell?" Kiddie repeated the name as if it were new to him.
"Well, I guess Nick won't interfere with me any. Good evenin', boss.
I shall be here on time. Don't worry."
He stabled his pony in the town, and, as the night was fine and it was
not yet late, he strolled out on foot for a walk along the Little
Laramie River. At a distance of about a mile he entered a pine wood,
made his way among the trees, and at length halted in front of a
cunningly hidden shanty. He stood listening and watching. He heard
the rattle of dice. There was a screened light in the window, but it
was hurriedly extinguished when he knocked.
After a long delay the door was cautiously opened by a man wearing a
mask. A strong smell of tobacco smoke and spirits came from within.
"Nick Undrell is here," said Kiddie, looking into the muzzle of a
revolver held close to his face. "I heard his voice. Put aside that
gun and tell him to come to the door. Tell him it's Lord Saint Olave."
The masked man within the doorway scrutinized the unexpected and
evidently unwelcome visitor, at whom he still held his menacing
revolver.
"Tell him it's Lord Saint Olave," Kiddie repeated in a level, insistent
voice.
At mention of this name the man slowly lowered his gun and drew back a
step, opening the door a trifle wider.
"Lord Saint Olave?" he muttered in surprise. "Lord Saint
Olave--here--at this time o' night! Wantin' ter see----" He removed
the black cloth mask that had hidden his face--"Wantin' ter see me?"
"Yes, Nick. That's why I'm here," returned Kiddie. "I want to see you
kind of private. You've no occasion t' be alarmed. I'm not in the
vigilance service, you know. Thought I'd just saunter along and have a
jaw with you, that's all."
"Come right in, sir," said Nick, now holding the door wide open. "I
got a few friends here; but they was jus' quittin' when you knocked."
Kiddie followed him within the darkness. The light in the room was
then turned up, and he saw four evil-looking men busily pulling off
their masks, putting away their pistols, and sweeping their playing
cards, dice-box, and a "pool" of coins and greenbacks from the table.
"The four o' you kin quit, soon's you likes," said Nick Undrell. "His
lordship an' me we've got a private pow-wow on hand, an' we don't want
no listeners mussin' around."
The men emptied their glasses, stood up, hitched their belts, and went
slowly past him and out at the door.
Kiddie knew them by sight. They had all been of Nick's gang in the
defence of the mule wagons. One still had a patch of sticking-plaster
across his cheek which Kiddie himself had put there over an arrow
wound. When they were gone outside he turned to Nick.
"Any partic'lar reason why you and your convivial guests should hide
your countenances behind masks?" he inquired in a casual tone, glancing
about with curious calculation.
Nick Undrell did not answer this very pertinent question, and his
visitor did not press him, but resumed, still casually--
"Can't say as this is quite a palatial residence for an industrious man
that's called successful. You used ter make good money at one time,
Nick, when you worked along with Buckskin Jack; had a consid'rable
bankin' account, too. This all you've got ter show for it?"
"Yep. All I possess in the world, barrin' my pony, is contained in
this yer shanty."
"What you done with that profitable ranch you had, back of Devil's
Gate?"
"Lost it," Nick answered, as if a range of a hundred fertile acres with
its herd of horses were a trifling article that had dropped through an
unsuspected hole in his pocket. "Lost it."
"Just so," nodded Kiddie. "Gambled it away, I guess; staked the whole
property on the turn-up of a miserable queen of spades, and lost the
lot."
"As a matter of fact," Nick smiled grimly, "it were th' ace of hearts
as done me in. An' the skunk as won it offen me wasn't a white man,
neither, but a greasy Injun. So now you know."
"Ah, Nick, you sure ain't the man you was in Buck's time; gamblin',
drinkin', hidin' your guilty face behind a mask, afraid when a harmless
visitor knocks at your door. What d'you suppose Buck would have
thought of you? What d'you expect me myself to think?"
"Dunno," said Nick ashamedly. "Th' ain't many men along this yer trail
like Buckskin Jack an' you, Kiddie. Thar's nobody ter lend a guidin'
hand to a man that's anyways weak. If I'd had you or Buck ter blaze
the trail for me I reckon I'd never have lost my way, same's I have
done. Savvy?"
"You c'd git back to the right trail even yet if you'd only go
straight," urged Kiddie.
Nick shrugged his broad shoulders.
"Say, what you got in the bag?" he inquired abruptly.
Kiddie had opened his haversack and taken from it a small canvas
wallet, which he laid on the table in front of him. He also produced a
very beautiful gold cigarette case.
"Have a smoke, Nick," he invited, opening the case and displaying a
compact double row of very fine Turkish cigarettes with gold tips.
"These are a special brand. I never smoke myself; just carry these ter
give away. Take!"
Nick Undrell glanced at them and shook his head.
"Them's just toy smokes," he objected. "Gimme some sensible, strong
pipe terbacco an' I'll thank you; but I got no use fer aristocratic
playthings like them. What you got in th' bag?"
Kiddie afterwards had an important reason for remembering Nick
Undrell's contempt for cigarettes. Slipping the gold case into his
breast pocket, he now took up the canvas wallet and opened it to take
out a substantial bundle of American bank notes.
"I've to pay you and your boys for the great help you gave me in
guarding my outfit along the trail," he explained, speaking now in his
character of Lord St. Olave. "I don't forget that you risked your
lives and were in danger of losing them. I want to reward you all
accordingly."
"No occasion ter hurry 'bout the payment," said Nick, assuming an air
of indifference. "Next week'll be time enough." He glanced down at
the bundle of greenbacks and gave a little gasp of envious surprise.
"Say," he observed, "you got consid'rable confidence in folk's honesty
to carry a heap o' dollars like that along o' you."
Kiddie met the man's cunningly covetous glance as he passed the whole
bundle across to him.
"Guess that's considerably more'n you an' your gang of road-agents
found on the harmless traveller you robbed on the trail last week and
left gagged and bound," he said pointedly.
"Eh?"
Nick clutched the notes and drew back. His hand went to his hip.
Kiddie seemed to have anticipated this movement, and he was quite ready
for it.
"Keep your hand away from your gun," he said quietly. "I'm covering
you with mine, and I'm quicker than you. Listen! You see, I know
about that affair. I was hoping that you'd be able to tell me you'd no
hand in it. But now I know by your behaviour that you're guilty, that
you were the ringleader of the despicable gang. I'm not accusin' you.
I repeat that I'm not in the vigilance service; I'm not a policeman. I
may tell you, however, that I knew your evil reputation before I
engaged you to take charge of my outfit. I trusted you, Nick, and you
did not betray my trust. You acted straight--you and your men
alike--and every cent of the amount I've just handed to you is well
deserved and honestly earned."
"You trusted me--you trusted the lot of us--knowin' we was low-down
roosters that wouldn't think twice of killin' a man for the sake of his
goods? That wasn't just wise, Kiddie. We might ha' bin springin' a
trap on you. Why, the traveller you referred to--him as were left
senseless on the trail--hadn't more'n the value of ten dollars on him
all told. He'd only a nickel watch, his knife, a pistol as wouldn't
shoot, an' a broken-winded cayuse that was hardly worth taking away.
And you gave us the chance to make off with the whole of your valu'ble
outfit! It wasn't wise. It wasn't safe."
"Then you guessed it was of value?" Kiddie questioned.
"Value? Well, I didn't on'y guess; I knew. We'd gotten word of it
days an' days 'fore it came along. So had the Redskins. But we didn't
cotton to the Injuns gettin' in front of us, see? We didn't have th'
ambition of seein' Broken Feather collar the boodle."
"Eh?" Kiddie looked across with level, penetrating eyes. "In front of
you? Then you admit that you had plans of your own?"
Nick Undrell was filling his pipe, ramming the tobacco in with nervous
vigour.
"Don't make too sure, Lord Saint Olave," he retorted calmly. "Speakin'
fer myself, I were ready to guard your property with me life, for the
sake of who you are--the son of Buckskin Jack. An' when you comes up,
trustin' me right down to the dust, an' requestin' me ter make up a
armed escort, well, I reckon I was plumb on the job, an' didn't look
fer no extravagant reward like this." He indicated the bundle of bank
notes.
"But there were other plans," insisted Kiddie. "You'd planned to rob
me on your own account. Don't deny it. Be candid. I'm wantin' to
understand your position and your character."
Nick stared at him, but could not bear for long the searching
expression in Kiddie's clear eyes. He lowered his own.
"Thar's no bluffing a player like you, Kiddie," he said. "You've
called my hand. I gotter show up. You's correct. Thar was sure
another plan. But we wasn't figurin' t' attack you on the trail, same
as th' Injuns did--an' failed. We wasn't figurin' ter do no shootin'.
Even allowin' as we'd attacked the wagons an' killed the drivers an'
young Rube an'--an' you, it wouldn't ha' bin easy fer us t' carry away
the goods. We couldn't have unloaded all them Saratoga trunks an' all
that household furniture on the open prairie without bein' dropped on.
Your hosses, too, we couldn't ha' hidden 'em. We couldn't alter their
coats or their shape or action. They'd sure been observed an' admired
all along the back trail from Leavenworth to Laramie. Everybody would
ha' known 'em. No, it wasn't good enough."
"And so," rejoined Kiddie with a smile, "you decided to make a virtue
of necessity, eh?"
Nick had lighted his pipe, and he took several thoughtful puffs at it
before he answered.
"We decided ter delay operations. D'ye savee?"
"Yes, I see," nodded Kiddie. "You decided to wait until I had done the
unpacking for you--until I'd got the valuables nice and handy for the
robbery in the lonesome cabin that I'm building for myself in the
woods."
"That's about the size of it," acknowledged Nick. "An' now you're
warned."
"Forewarned and forearmed," returned Kiddie. "I shall be prepared, you
may be sure. And you can expect a hot reception. A very hot
reception, indeed."
Nick strode up to him, and tapped him on the shoulder with the wet stem
of his pipe.
"Look 'ee here, Lord Saint Olave," he said steadily; "you ain't read my
c'ara'ter true; not yet. You got a lot to learn 'fore you knows me
proper. I ain't the low-down cur as you takes me for--not by a long
chalk. I ain't beyond gettin' back on the right trail, if yer only
gives me time. Your comin' back here to the wilds has made a kinder
diff'rence t' me--a heap of diff'rence. D'ye savee?"
"I'm glad to hear it, Nick, my boy," said Kiddie. "And I quite
understand. You mean that because I'm back here to blaze a trail for
you, you'll give up gambling, you'll give up hard drinking, and you'll
never again molest harmless travellers or do thieving of any sort. Do
you promise all this, Nick? Eh? Straight, now, do you promise it? I
know you'll keep your word, once you give it. You're a desperado, but
I don't think you would break your word."
Nick Undrell pulled himself together.
"It's a steep proposition," he murmured. "But I guess I ain't no
coward. Yes, Kiddie," he answered resolutely. "I promise; I promise
faithful. You're blazin' the trail for me, an' I'm shapin' ter foller
it true."