JAMES CARBHOY ARRIVES
Snake's Fall was in that sensitive state when the least jar or news of
a startling nature was calculated to upset it, and start its tide of
human emotions bubbling and surging like a shallow stream whose course
has been obstructed by the sudden fall of a bowlder into its bed.
Early the following morning just such a metaphorical bowlder fell right
into the middle of the Snake's Fall stream. The news flew through the
little town, now so crowded with its overflowing population of
speculators, with that celerity which vital news ever attains in small,
and even large places. It was on everybody's lips before the breakfast
tables were cleared. And, in a matter of seconds, from the moment of
its penetration to the individual, minds were searching not only the
meaning, but the effect it would have upon the general situation, and
their own personal affairs in particular.
David Slosson, the agent of the Union Grayling and Ukataw Railroad, had
defected in the night! He had gone--bolted--leaving his bill unpaid at
McSwain's hotel!
For a while a sort of paralysis seized upon the population. It was
staggered. No trains had passed through in the night. Not even a
local freight train. How had he gone? But most of all--why?
The next bit of news that came through was that Peter's best team had
been stolen from the barn, also an empty hay-rack. This was
mystifying, until it became known that Peter's buggy was laid up at
Mike Callahan's barn, undergoing repairs. The hayrack was the only
vehicle available. But what about saddle horses for a rapid bolt?
Curiously enough it was discovered that Peter's saddle horses were out
grazing. Besides, the story added that the man had taken his baggage
with him. Not a thing had been left behind, and baggage like his could
not have been carried on a saddle horse.
The story grew as it traveled. It was the snowball over again. It was
said that Peter had been robbed of a large amount of money which he
kept in his safe. Also his cash register had been emptied. An added
item was that Peter himself had been knifed, and had been found in a
dying condition. In fact every conceivable variation of the facts were
flung abroad for the benefit of credulous ears. Consequently the tide
of curious, and startled, and interested news-seekers set in the
direction of Peter's hotel at an early hour.
Then it was that something of the real facts were discovered. And, in
consequence, those who had participated in Slosson's land deals, and
had received deposit money, congratulated themselves. While those who
had not so profited felt like "kicking" themselves for their want of
enterprise.
Peter stormed through his house the whole morning. He was like a very
hot and angry lion in a cage far too small for it. His story, as he
told it in the office, was superlative in furious adjectives.
"I tell you fellows," he cried, at a group of wondering-eyed boarders
in his establishment, "I ha'f suspected he was a blamed crook from the
first moment I got my eyeballs onto him. The feller that 'll bilk his
board bill is come mighty low, sirs. So mighty low you wouldn't find a
well deep enough for him. He had the best rooms in the house at four
an' a ha'f dollars a day all in, an' I ain't see a fi' cent piece of
his money, cep' you ken count the land deposit he paid me. I just been
right through his rooms, an' he ain't left a thing, not a valise, nor a
grip. Not even a soot of pyjamas, or a soap tablet. He's sure cleared
right out fer good, and we ain't goin' to see him round again," he
finished up gloomily.
Then his fire broke out again.
"But that ain't what I'm grievin' most, I guess. Ther's allus skunks
around till a place gets civilized up, an' their bokay ain't pleasant.
But he's a hoss thief, too. There's my team. You know that team of
mine, Mr. Davison," he went on, turning to the drug storekeeper who had
dropped in to hear his friend's news. "You've drove behind 'em many a
time. They got a three-minute gait between 'em which 'ud show dust to
any team around these parts. That team was worth two thousand dollars,
sirs, and was matched to an inch, and a shade of color. Say, if I get
across his tracks, an' Sheriff Richardson is out after him with a
posse, I'm goin' to get a shot in before the United States Authorities
waste public money feeding him in penitentiary. I'm feelin' that mad I
can't eat, an' I don't guess I'd know how to hand a decent answer to a
Methodist minister if he came along. If I don't get news of that team
I'm just going to start and break something. I don't figure if he'd
burned this shack right over my head I'd have felt as mad as I do
losin' that dandy team."
When questioned as to how the man had got away his answer came sharply.
"How? Why, what was there to stop him, sir? I tell you right here we
ain't been accustomed to deal with his kind in Snake's. The folk
around this layout, till this coal boom started, has all been decent
citizens." He glared with hot eyes upon the men about him, who were
nearly all speculators attracted by that very coal boom. "There's that
darned fire-escape out back, right down from his room, an' what man has
ever locked his barn in these parts? Psha!" he cried, in violent
disgust. "I've had that team three years, and I've never so much as
had a lock put to the barn."
So it went on all the morning. Peter's fury was one of the sights of
the township for that day. He was never without an audience which
flowed and ebbed like a tide, stimulated by curiosity, self-interest,
and the natural satisfaction of witnessing another's troubles which is
so much an instinct of human nature.
And beneath every other emotion which the agent's sudden defection
aroused was a wave of almost pitiful meanness. The dreams of the last
week and more had received a set back. In many minds the boom city was
tottering. The crowding hopes of avarice and self-interest had
suddenly received a douche of cold water. What, these speculators
asked themselves, and each other, did the incident portend, what had
the future in store?
So keen was the interest worked up about Peter McSwain's house that
every other consideration for the time being was forgotten. Party
after party visited Slosson's late quarters with a feeling of
conviction that some trifling clew had been overlooked, and, by some
happy chance, the luck and glory of having discovered it might fall to
their lot. But it was all of no avail. The room was absolutely empty
of all trace of its recent occupant, as only an hotel room can become.
With the excitement the daily west-bound passenger train was forgotten,
and by the time it was signaled in, the little depot was almost
deserted. There were one or two rigs backed up to it on the town side,
and perhaps a dozen townspeople were present. But the usual gathering
was nowhere about.
Amongst the few present were Hazel Mallinsbee and Gordon. They had
driven up in a democrat wagon with a particularly fine team, and having
backed the vehicle up to the boarded platform, they stood talking
earnestly and quite unnoticed. Hazel was dressed in an ordinary suit
that possessed nothing startling in its atmosphere of smartness. Her
skirt was of some rather hard material, evidently for hard wear, and
the upper part of her costume was a white lawn shirtwaist under a short
jacket which matched her skirt. Her head was adorned by her customary
prairie hat, which, in Gordon's eyes, became her so admirably.
Gordon was holding up a picture for the girl's closest inspection.
"Say, it's sheer bull-headed luck I got this with me," he was saying.
"I found it amongst my old papers and things when I left New York, and
I sort of brought it along as a 'mascot.' The old dad's older than
that now, but you can't mistake him. It's a bully likeness. Get it
into your mind anyway, and then keep it with you."
Hazel gazed admiringly at the portrait of the man who claimed Gordon as
his son. For the moment she forgot the purpose in hand.
"Isn't he just splendid?" she exclaimed. "You're--you're the image of
him. Why, say, it seems the unkindest thing ever to--to play him up."
Gordon laughed.
"Don't worry that way. We're going to give him the time of his life."
Then he glanced swiftly about him, and noted the emptiness of the
depot. "I guess Peter's keeping the folks busy. He's a bright feller.
I surely guess he's working overtime. Now you get things fixed right,
Hazel. The train's coming along."
The girl nodded.
"You can trust me."
"Right." Gordon sighed. "I'll make tracks then. But I'll be around
handy to see you don't make a mistake."
He left the depot and disappeared. Hazel stood studying the picture in
her hand, and alternating her attention with the incoming train. She
was in a happy mood. The excitement of her share in Gordon's plot was
thrilling through her veins, and the thought that she was going to meet
his father, the great multi-millionaire, left her almost beside herself
with delighted interest.
She wondered how much she would find him like Gordon. No, she thought
softly, he could never be really like Gordon. That was impossible. A
multi-millionaire could never have his son's frank enthusiasm for life
in all its turns and twistings of moral impulse. Gordon faced life
with a defiant "don't care." That glorious spirit of youth and moral
health. His father, for all his physical resemblance, would be a hard,
stern, keen-eyed man, with all experience behind him. Then she
remembered Gordon's injunctions.
"Be just yourself," he had said. Then he had added, with a laugh, "If
you do that you'll have the dear old boy at your feet long before the
day's had time to get cool."
It was rather nice Gordon talking that way, and the smile which
accompanied her recollection was frankly delighted. Anyway she would
soon know all about it, for the train was already rumbling its way in.
James Carbhoy had done all that had been required of him by his agent's
message. He had not welcomed the abandonment of his private car in
favor of the ordinary parlor car and sleeper. Then, too, the purchase
of a ticket for his journey had seemed strange. But somehow, after the
first break from his usual method of travel, he had found enjoyment in
the situation. His fellow passengers, with whom he had got into
conversation on the journey, had passed many pleasant hours, and it
became quite absorbing to look on at the affairs of the world through
eyes that, for the time being, were no longer those of one of the
country's multi-millionaires.
However, the journey was a long one, and he was pleased enough when he
reached his destination all unheralded and unrecognized. It amused him
to find how many travelers in the country knew nothing about James
Carbhoy and his vast financial exploits.
As the train slowed down he gathered up his simple belongings, which
consisted of a crocodile leather suitcase, a stout valise of the same
material; and a light dust coat, which he slung over his arm. Armed
with these, he fell in with the queue making its way towards the exit
of the car. He frankly and simply enjoyed the situation. He told
himself he was merely one of the rest of the get-rich-quick brigade who
were flocking to the Eldorado at Snake's Fall.
He was the last to alight, and he scanned the depot platform for the
familiar figure of his confidential agent. As he did so the locomotive
bell began to toll out its announcement of progress. The train slowly
slid out of the station behind him.
David Slosson was nowhere to be seen, and he had just made up his mind
to search out a hotel for himself when he became aware of the tailored
figure of a young girl standing before him, and of the pleasant tones
of her voice addressing him.
"Your agent, David Slosson, Mr. Carbhoy, has been detained out beyond
the coalfields on your most urgent business," she said. "So I was sent
in with the rig to drive you out to your quarters."
The millionaire was startled. Then, as his steady eyes searched the
delightful face smiling up at him, his start proved a pleasant one.
There was something so very charming in the girl's tone and manner.
Then her extremely pretty eyes, and--Gordon's father mechanically bared
his head, and Hazel could have laughed with joy as she beheld this
strong, handsome edition of the Gordon she knew.
"Well, come, that was thoughtful of Slosson," he said kindly. "He
certainly has shown remarkable judgment in substituting your company
for his own. My dear young lady, Slosson as a man of affairs is
possible, but as a companion on a journey, however short--well, I----
And you are really going to drive me to my hotel. That's surely kind
of you."
Hazel flushed. She felt the meanest thing in the world under the great
man's kindly regard. However, she reminded herself of the great and
ultimate object of the part she was playing and steeled her heart.
"The team's right here, sir." She felt justified in adding the "sir."
She felt that she must risk nothing in her manner. "I'll just take
your baggage along."
She was about to relieve the millionaire of his grips, but he drew back.
"Say, I just couldn't dream of it. You carry my grips? No, no, go
right ahead, and I'll bring them along."
In a perfect maze of excitement and confusion the girl hastily crossed
over to her team. Somehow she could no longer face the man's steady
eyes without betraying herself like some weak, silly schoolgirl. This
was Gordon's father, she kept telling herself, and--and she was there
to cheat him. It--it just seemed dreadful.
However, no time was wasted. She sprang into the driving-seat of the
democrat spring rig, and took up the reins. The millionaire deposited
his grips in the body of the vehicle, and himself mounted to the seat
beside her. In a moment the wagon was on the move.
As they moved away, out of the corners of her eyes Hazel saw the
grinning face of Gordon peering out at them from the window of Steve
Mason's telegraph office, smiling approval and encouragement.
Curiously enough, the sight made her feel almost angry.
They moved down Main Street at a rattling pace, and, in a few moments,
turned off it into one of those streets which only the erection of
dwelling-houses marked. There were no made roads of any sort. Just
beaten, heavy, sandy tracks on the virgin ground.
Hazel remained silent for some time. She was almost afraid to speak.
Yet she wanted to. She wanted to talk to Gordon's father. She wanted
to tell him of the mean trick she was playing upon him, for, under the
influence of his steady eyes and the knowledge that he was Gordon's
father, a great surge of shame was stirring in her heart which made her
hate herself.
For some time the man gazed about him interestedly. Then, as they lost
themselves among the wooden frame dwelling-houses, he breathed a deep
sigh of content and drew out one of those extravagant cigars which
Gordon had not tasted for so many weeks.
"Say, will smoke worry you any, young lady?" he inquired kindly.
Hazel was thankful for the opportunity of a cordial reply.
"Why, no," she cried. Then on the impulse she went on, "I just love
the smell of smoke where men are." She laughed merrily. "I guess men
without smoke makes you feel they're sick in body or conscience."
Gordon's father laughed in his quiet fashion as he lit his cigar.
"That way I guess folks of the Anti-Tobacco League need to start right
in and build hospitals for themselves."
The girl nodded.
"Anti-Tobacco?" she said. "Why, 'anti' anything wholesomely human must
be a terrible sick crowd. I'd hate to trust them with my pocket-book,
and, goodness knows, there's only about ten cents in it. Even that
would be a temptation to such folks."
Again came the millionaire's quiet laugh.
"That's the result of the healthy life you folks live right out here in
the open sunshine," he said, noting the pretty tanning of the girl's
face. "I don't guess it's any real sign of health, mentally or
physically, when folks have to start 'anti' societies, eh?"
"No, sir," replied the girl. "Did you ever know anybody that was
really healthy who started in to worry how they were living? It's just
what I used to notice way back at college in Boston. The girls that
came from cities were just full of cranks and notions. This wasn't
right for them to eat, that wasn't right for them to do. And it seemed
to me all their folks belonged to some 'anti' society of some sort. If
the 'anti' wasn't for themselves it was for some other folks who
weren't worried with the things they did or the way they lived. It
just seems to me cities are full of cranks who can run everything for
other folks and need other folks to run everything for them. It's just
a sort of human drug store in which every med'cine has to be able to
cure the effects of some other. Out here it's different. We got green
grass and sunshine, the same as God started us with, and so we haven't
got any use for the 'anti' folks."
"No." James Carbhoy had forgotten the journey and its object. He was
only aware of this fresh, bright young creature beside him. He stirred
in his seat and glanced about him from a sheer sense of a new interest,
and in looking about he became aware of a horseman riding on the same
trail some distance behind them.
"You said Boston just now," he said curiously. "You were educated in
Boston?"
Hazel nodded.
"Yes, my poppa sent me to Boston. He just didn't reckon anything but
Boston was good enough. But I was glad to be back here again."
The millionaire would have liked to question her more closely as to how
she came to be driving a team at Slosson's command. He had no great
regard for his agent outside of business, But somehow he felt it would
be an impertinence, and so refrained. Instead, he changed the subject.
"How far out are the coalfields?" he inquired.
"About five miles." The memory of her purpose swept over the girl
again, and her reply came shortly, and she glanced back quickly over
her shoulder.
As she did so she became sickeningly aware that two horsemen were on
the trail some distance behind them. How she wished she had never
undertaken this work!
"I suppose there's quite a town there now?" was the millionaire's next
inquiry.
"Not a great deal, but there's comfortable quarters the other side of
it. It's going to be a wonderful, wonderful place, sir, when the
railroad starts booming it."
Hazel felt she must get away from anything approaching a
cross-examination.
"I don't just get that," said Carbhoy evasively.
"Well, it's just a question of depot. You see, there's coal right here
enough to heat the whole world. That's what folks say. And when the
railroad fixes things so transport's right, why, everybody 'll just
jump around and build up big commercial corporations, and--there'll be
dollars for everybody."
"I see--yes."
"Mr. Slosson is working that way now," the girl went on. Then she
added, with a shadowy smile, "That's why he couldn't get in to meet
you, I guess."
"He must be very busy," said the millionaire dryly. "However, I'm
glad." And Hazel turned in time to discover his kindly smile.
Carbhoy gazed about him at the open plains with which they were
surrounded. The air, though hot, was fresh, and the sunlight, though
brilliant, seemed to lack something of that intensity to be found in
the enclosed streets of a city. He threw away his cigar stump, and in
doing so he glanced back over the trail again. He remained gazing
intently in that direction for some moments. Then he turned back.
"I guess those fellers riding along behind are just prairie men," he
said.
Hazel started and looked over her shoulder. There were four men now
riding together on the trail. They were steadily keeping pace with her
team some two hundred yards behind.
It was some moments before the man received his answer. Hazel was
troubled. She was almost horrified.
"Yes," she said at last, with an effort. "They're just prairie men."
Then she smiled, but her smile was a further effort. "They're pretty
tough boys to look at, but I'd say they're all right. Maybe you're not
used to the prairie?"
The millionaire smiled.
"I've seen it out of a train window," he said.
"Through glass," said Hazel. "It makes a difference, doesn't it? It's
the same with everything. You've got to get into contact to--to
understand."
"But there hasn't always been glass between me and--things."
Hazel's smile was spontaneous now as she nodded her appreciation.
"I'm sure," she said. "You see, you're a millionaire."
Carbhoy smiled back at her.
"Just so." This girl was slowly filling him with amazement.
"It's real plate-glass now," Hazel went on.
"And plate-glass sometimes gets broken."
"Yes, I s'pose it does. But you can fix it again--being a millionaire."
"Yes----"
The millionaire broke off. There was a rush of hoofs from behind. The
horsemen were close up to them, coming at a hard gallop. Carbhoy
turned quickly. So did Hazel. The millionaire's eyes were calmly
curious. He imagined the men were just going to pass on. Hazel's eyes
were full of a genuine alarm. She had known what to expect. But now
that the moment had come she was really terrified. What would Gordon's
father do? Had he a revolver? And would he use it? This was the
source of her fear.
It was a breathless moment for the girl. It was the crux of all
Gordon's plans. She was the center of it. She, and these men who were
to execute the lawless work.
She was given no time to speculate. She was given no time but for that
dreadful wave of fear which swept over her, and left her pretty face
ghastly beneath its tanning. A voice, harsh, commanding, bade her pull
up her team, and the order was accompanied by a string of blasphemy and
the swift play of the man's gun.
"Hold 'em up, blast you! Hold 'em, or I'll blow the life right out o'
you!" came the ruthless order.
At the same time James Carbhoy was confronted with a gun from another
direction, and a sharp voice invited him to "push his hands right up to
the sky."
Both orders were obeyed instantly, and as Hazel saw her companion's
hands thrown up over his head a great reaction of relief set in. She
sat quite still and silent. Her reins rested loosely in her lap. She
no longer dared to look at her companion. Now that all danger of his
resistance was past she feared lest an almost uncontrollable
inclination to laugh should betray her.
She kept her eyes steadily fixed upon these men, every one of whom she
had known since her childhood, and to whom she fully made up her mind
she intended to read a lecture on the subject of the use of oaths to a
woman, sometime in the future. As she watched them her inclination to
laugh grew stronger and stronger. They had carried out their part with
a nicety for detail that was quite laudable. Each man was armed to the
teeth, and was as grotesque a specimen of prairie ruffianism as clothes
could make him--the leader particularly. And he, in everyday life, she
knew to be the mildest and most quaintly humorous of men.
But his work was carried out now without a shadow of humor. He looked
murder, or robbery, or any other crime, as he ordered her out of the
driving seat, and waited while she scrambled over the back of the seat
to one of those behind with a movement well-nigh precipitate. Then, at
a sign, one of the other men took her place, and, at another short
command to "look over" the millionaire, the same man proceeded to
search Gordon's father for weapons. The production of an automatic
pistol from one of his coat pockets filled Hazel with consternation at
the thought of the possibilities of disaster which had lain therein.
But the four assailants gave no sign. Their work proceeded swiftly and
silently. The millionaire's feet were secured, and he was left in his
seat. Then, under the hands of the man who had replaced Hazel, the
journey was continued with the escort beside and behind the vehicle.
As they drove on Hazel wondered. Her eyes, very soft, very regretful,
were fixed on the iron-gray head of the man in the front seat. She
registered a vow that if he were hurt by the bonds that held his ankles
fast some one was going to hear about it. Now that the whole thing was
over and done with she felt resentful and angry with anybody and
everybody--except the victim of the outrage. She was even mad with
herself that she had lent assistance to such a cruel trick.
But the millionaire gave no sign. Hazel longed to know something of
his feelings, but he gave neither her nor his assailants the least
inkling of them for a long time. At last, however, a great relief to
the girl's feelings came at the sound of his voice, which had lost none
of its even, kindly note.
"Say," he observed, addressing the ruffian beside him, who was busily
chewing and spitting, "you don't mind if I smoke, do you?"
Then Hazel made a fresh vow of retribution for some one as the answer
came.
"You can smoke all the weed you need," the man said, with a fierce
oath, "only don't try no monkey tricks. You're right fer awhile,
anyways, if you sit tight, I guess, but if you so much as wink an eye
by way of kickin', why, I'll blow a whole hurricane o' lead into your
rotten carcase."
It was a long and weary journey that ended somewhere about midnight.
Nor was it until the teamster drew up at the door of a small, squat
frame house that James Carbhoy's bonds were finally released. He was
thankful enough, in spite of his outward display of philosophic
indifference. He knew that he was the victim of a simple "hold-up,"
and had little enough fear for his life. The matter was a question of
ransom, he guessed. It was one of those things he had often enough
heard of, but which, up to now, he had been lucky enough to escape. He
only wondered how it came about that these "toughs" had learned of his
coming. He felt that it must have been Slosson's fault. He must have
opened his mouth. Well, for the time, at least, there was little to do
but hope for the best and make the best of things generally.
He was given no option now but to obey. His captors ordered him out of
the wagon in the same rough manner in which they ordered Hazel. And
the leader conducted them both into the house.
There was a light burning in the parlor, and the millionaire looked
about him in surprise at the simple comfort and cleanliness of the
place. He had expected a mere hovel, such as he had read about. He
had expected filth and discomfort of every sort. But here--here was a
parlor, neatly furnished and with a wonderful suggestion of homeness
about it. He was pleasantly astonished. But the leader of the gang
was intent upon the business in hand.
He turned to Hazel first and pointed at the door which led into the
kitchen.
"Say, you!" he cried roughly. "You best get right out wher' you'll
belong fer awhiles. We ain't used to female sassiety around this
layout, an' I don't guess we need any settin' around now. Say, you'll
jest see to the vittles fer this gent an' us. Ther's a Chink out back
ther' what ain't a circumstance when it comes to cookin' vittles.
You'll see he fixes things right--seein' we've a millionaire fer
company. Get busy."
Hazel departed, but a wild longing to box the fellow's ears nearly
ruined everything. There certainly was a reckoning mounting up for
some one.
The moment she had departed the man turned his scowling, repellent eyes
upon his male prisoner.
"Now, see here, Mister James Carbhoy. I guess you're yearning for a
few words from me. Wal, I allow they're goin' to be mighty few. See?"
he added brutally. "I ain't given to a heap of talk. There's jest
three things you need to hear right here an' now. The first is, it's
goin' to cost you jest a hundred thousand dollars 'fore you get into
the bosom o' your family again. The second is, even if you got the
notion to try and dodge us boys, you couldn't get out o' these
mountains without starvin' to death or breakin' your rotten neck.
You're jest a hundred miles from Snake's Fall, and ninety o' that is
Rocky Mountains an' foothills. You ain't goin' to be locked in a
prisoner here. There ain't no need. You can jest get around as you
please--in daylight--and one of the boys 'll always be on your track.
At night you're just goin' to stop right home--in case you lose
yourself. The third is, if you kick any or try to get away--well, I
don't guess you'll try much else on this earth. The room over this is
your sleep-room, an' I guess you can tote your baggage right there now.
So long."
Without waiting for a reply the man beat a retreat out through the
front door, which he locked behind him with considerable display.
Once outside, the man hurried away round to the back of the house,
where, to his surprise, he found Hazel waiting for him.
She addressed him by name in a sharp whisper.
"Bud!" she commanded. "Come right here!"
Then, as the man obeyed her, she led him silently away from the house
in the direction of the corrals. Once well out of earshot of the house
she turned on him.
"Now see here, Bud," she cried. "I've had all I'm yearning for of you
for the next twenty-four years. Now you're going to light right out
back to the ranch right away, and don't you ever dare to come near here
again--ever. My! but your language has been a disgrace to any New York
tough. I've never, never heard such a variety of curse words ever. If
I'd thought you could have talked that way I'd have had you go to
Sunday school every Sunday since you've been one of our foremen."
"'Tain't just nothin', Miss Hazel," the man deprecated. "I ken do
better than that on a round-up when the boys get gay. Say, it just did
me good talkin' to a multi-millionaire that way. I don't guess I'll
ever get such a chance again."
"That you won't," cried Hazel, smiling in the darkness, in spite of her
outraged feelings.
"But I acted right, Miss," protested the man. "I don't guess he'd have
located me fer anything but a 'hold-up.' Say, we'd got it all fixed.
We just acted it over. I was plumb scared he'd shoot, though. You
never can tell with these millionaires. I was scared he wouldn't know
enough to push his hands up. Say, we'd have had to rush him if he
hadn't, an' maybe there'd have been damage done."
Hazel sighed.
"There's enough of that done already. Say, you're sure you didn't hurt
his poor ankles. You see," she explained, "he's Mr. Gordon's father."
The man began to laugh.
"Say, don't it beat all, Miss Hazel, stealin' your own father? How 'ud
you fancy stealin' Mr. Mallinsbee? Gee! Mr. Gordon's a dandy. He
sure is. He's a real bright feller, and I like him. What's the next
play, Miss?"
"Goodness only knows," cried Hazel. Then she began to laugh. "Some
harebrained, mad scheme, or it wouldn't be Gordon's. Anyway, you made
it plain I'm to look after the--prisoner?"
"Sure. I also told him it would cost him a hundred thousand dollars
before he gets out of here."
Hazel nodded and laughed.
"It'll do that." Then she sighed. "It'll take me all my wits keeping
him from guessing I'm concerned in it. I don't know. Well,
good-night, Bud. You're going back to the ranch now. You've only one
of the boys here? That's right. Which is it? Sid Blake?"
"Yes, Miss. I left Sid. You see, he's bright, and up to any play you
need. I'll get around once each day. Good-night, Miss."