AN EVENING IN JAIL
Before my ideas had had time to straighten themselves out, I was
lifted to my feet, and half pushed, half lifted to the station
platform. Camp was already there, and as I took this fact in I
saw Frederic and his lordship pulled through the door-way of my
car by the cowboys and dragged out on the platform beside me. The
reports were now in Lord Ralles's hands.
"That's what we want, boys," cried Camp. "Those letters."
"Take your hands off me," said Lord Ralles, coolly, "and I'll
give them to you."
The men who had hold of his arms let go of him, and quick as a
flash Ralles tore the papers in two. He tried to tear them once
more, but, before he could do so, half a dozen men were holding
him, and the papers were forced out of his hands.
Albert Cullen--for all of them were on the platform of 218 by
this time--shouted, "Well done, Ralles!" quite forgetting in the
excitement of the moment his English accent and drawl.
Apparently Camp didn't agree with him, for he ripped out a
string of oaths which he impartially divided among Ralles, the
cowboys, and myself. I was decidedly sorry that I hadn't given
the real letters, for his lordship clearly had no scruple about
destroying them, and I knew few men whom I would have seen
behind prison-bars with as little personal regret. However, no
one had, so far as I could see, paid the slightest attention to
the pony, and the probabilities were that he was already headed
for Baldwin's ranch, with no likelihood of his stopping till he
reached home. At least that was what I hoped; but there were a
lot of ponies standing about, and, not knowing the markings of
the one I had ridden, I wasn't able to tell whether he might not
be among them.
Just as the fragments of the papers were passed over to Mr. Camp,
he was joined by Baldwin and the judge, and Camp held the torn
pieces up to them, saying,--
"They've torn the proxies in two."
"Don't let that trouble you," said the judge. "Make an affidavit
before me, reciting the manner in which they were destroyed, and
I'll grant you a mandamus compelling the directors to accept them
as bona-fide proxies. Let me see how much injured they are."
Camp unfolded the papers, and I chuckled to myself at the look of
surprise that overspread his face as he took in the fact that
they were nothing but section reports. And, though I don't like
cuss-words, I have to acknowledge that I enjoyed the two or three
that he promptly ejaculated.
When the first surprise of the trio was over, they called on the
sheriff, who arrived opportunely, to take us into 97 and search
the three of us,--a proceeding that puzzled Fred and his lordship
not a little, for they weren't on to the fact that the letters
hadn't been recovered. I presume the latter will some day write a
book dwelling on the favorite theme of the foreigner, that there
is no personal privacy in America, and I don't know but his
experiences justify the view. The running remarks as the search
was made seemed to open Fred's eyes, for he looked at me with a
puzzled air, but I winked and frowned at him, and he put his face
in order.
When the papers were not found on any of us, Camp and Baldwin
both nearly went demented. Baldwin suggested that I had never had
the papers, but Camp argued that Fred or Lord Ralles must have
hidden them in the car, in spite of the fact that the cowboys who
had caught them insisted that they couldn't have had time to hide
the papers. Anyway, they spent an hour in ferreting about in my
car, and even searched my two darkies, on the possibility that
the true letters had been passed on to them.
While they were engaged in this, I was trying to think out some
way of letting Mr. Cullen and Albert know where the letters were.
The problem was to suggest the saddle to them, without letting
the cowboys understand, and by good luck I thought I had the
means. Albert had complained to me the day we had ridden out to
the Indian dwellings at Flagstaff that his saddle fretted some
galled spots which he had chafed on his trip to Moran's Point.
Hoping he would "catch on," I shouted to him,--
"How are your sore spots, Albert?"
He looked at me in a puzzled way, and called, "Aw, I don't
understand you."
"Those sore spots you complained about to me the day before
yesterday," I explained.
He didn't seem any the less befogged as he replied, "I had
forgotten all about them."
"I've got a touch of the same trouble," I went on; "and, if I
were you, I'd look into the cause."
Albert only looked very much mystified, and I didn't dare say
more, for at this point the trio, with the sheriff, came out of
my car. If I hadn't known that the letters were safe, I could
have read the story in their faces, for more disgusted and
angry-looking men I have rarely seen.
They had a talk with the sheriff, and then Fred, Lord Ralles, and
I were marched off by the official, his lordship loudly demanding
sight of a warrant, and protesting against the illegality of his
arrest, varied at moments by threats to appeal to the British
consul, minister plenipo., Her Majesty's Foreign Office, etc.,
all of which had about as much influence on the sheriff and his
cowboy assistants as a Moqui Indian snake-dance would have in
stopping a runaway engine. I confess to feeling a certain grim
satisfaction in the fact that if I was to be shut off from seeing
Madge, the Britisher was in the same box with me.
Ash Forks, though only six years old, had advanced far enough
towards civilization to have a small jail, and into that we were
shoved. Night was come by the time we were lodged there, and,
being in pretty good appetite, I struck the sheriff for some
grub.
"I'll git yer somethin'," he said, good-naturedly; "but next time
yer shove people, Mr. Gordon, just quit shovin' yer friends. My
shoulder feels like--" perhaps it's just as well not to say what
his shoulder felt like. The Western vocabulary is expressive, but
at times not quite fit for publication.
The moment the sheriff was gone, Fred wanted the mystery of the
letters explained, and I told him all there was to tell,
including as good a description of the pony as I could give him.
We tried to hit on some plan to get word to those outside, but it
wasn't to be done. At least it was a point gained that some one
of our party besides myself knew where the letters were.
The sheriff returned presently with a loaf of canned bread and a
tin of beans. If I had been alone, I should have kicked at the
food and got permission for my darkies to send me up something
from 97; but I thought I'd see how Lord Ralles would like genuine
Western fare, so I said nothing. That, I have to state, is
more--or rather less--than the Britisher did, after he had
sampled the stuff; and really I don't blame him, much as I
enjoyed his rage and disgust.
It didn't take long to finish our supper, and then Fred, who
hadn't slept much the night before, stretched out on the floor
and went to sleep. Lord Ralles and I sat on boxes--the only
furniture the room contained--about as far apart as we could get,
he in the sulks, and I whistling cheerfully. I should have liked
to be with Madge, but he wasn't; so there was some compensation,
and I knew that time was playing the cards in our favor: so long
as they hadn't found the letters we had only to sit still to
win.
About an hour after supper, the sheriff came back and told me
Camp and Baldwin wanted to see me. I saw no reason to object, so
in they came, accompanied by the judge. Baldwin opened the ball
by saying genially,--
"Well, Mr. Gordon, you've played a pretty cute gamble, and I
suppose you think you stand to win the pot."
"I'm not complaining," I said.
"Still," snarled Camp, angrily, as if my contented manner fretted
him, "our time will come presently, and we can make it pretty
uncomfortable for you. Illegal proceedings put a man in jail in
the long run."
"I hope you take your lesson to heart," I remarked cheerfully,
which made Camp scowl worse than ever.
"Now," said Baldwin, who kept cool, "we know you are not risking
loss of position and the State's prison for nothing, and we want
to know what there is in it for you?"
"I wouldn't stake my chance of State's prison against yours,
gentlemen. And, while I may lose my position, I'll be a long way
from starvation."
"That doesn't tell us what Cullen gives you to take the risk."
"Mr. Cullen hasn't given, or even hinted that he'll give,
anything."
"And Mr. Gordon hasn't asked, and, if I know him, wouldn't take a
cent for what he has done," said Fred, rising from the floor.
"You mean to say you are doing it for nothing?" exclaimed Camp,
incredulously.
"That's about the truth of it," I said; though I thought of Madge
as I said it, and felt guilty in suggesting that she was nothing.
"Then what is your motive?" cried Baldwin.
If there had been any use, I should have replied, "The right;"
but I knew that they would only think I was posing if I said it.
Instead I replied: "Mr. Cullen's party has the stock majority in
their favor, and would have won a fair fight if you had played
fair. Since you didn't, I'm doing my best to put things to
rights."
Camp cried, "All the more fool--" but Baldwin interrupted him by
saying,--
"That only shows what a mean cuss Cullen is. He ought to give you
ten thousand, if he gives you a cent."
"Yes," cried Camp, "those letters are worth money, whether he's
offered it or not."
"Mr. Cullen never so much as hinted paying me," said I.
"Well, Mr. Gordon," said Baldwin, suavely, "we'll show you that
we can be more liberal. Though the letters rightfully belong to
Mr. Camp, if you'll deliver them to us we'll see that you don't
lose your place, and we'll give you five thousand dollars."
I glanced at Fred, whom I found looking at me anxiously, and
asked him,--
"Can't you do better than that?"
"We could with any one but you," said Fred.
I should have liked to shake hands over this compliment, but I
only nodded, and turning to Mr. Camp, said,--
"You see how mean they are."
"You'll find we are not built that way," said Baldwin. "Five
thousand isn't a bad day's work, eh?"
"No," I said, laughing; "but you just told me I ought to get ten
thousand if I got a cent."
"It's worth ten to Mr. Cullen, but--"
I interrupted by saying, "If it's worth ten to him, it's worth a
hundred to me."
That was too much for Camp. First he said something best omitted,
and then went on, "I told you it was waste time trying to win him
over."
The three stood apart for a moment whispering, and then Judge
Wilson called the sheriff over, and they all went out together.
The moment we were alone, Frederic held out his hand, and
said,--
"Gordon, it's no use saying anything, but if we can ever do--"
I merely shook hands, but I wanted the worst way to say,--
"Tell Madge what I've done, and the thing's square."