SAWYER'S PLAN.
McElwin was engaged when Sawyer returned to the bank, but he soon
cleared the room. "Well," he said, when the mule buyer entered. Sawyer
sat down before he replied.
"He refused."
McElwin's feet scraped the floor. "Refused?"
"Yes. He took the check, struck a match and burned it up."
"The scoundrel."
"Worse than that, he wrapped up the cinders and told me to take them
to you, and tell you that he had burnt the little finger of your god."
"Blasphemous wretch!"
"And I told him that he had not only insulted me, but had put an
indignity upon you. I talked to him just as cool as a man could talk
to anybody; we got along first rate until he burnt the check, and
then, of course, it was all off. No it wasn't, not even then. As I
stood in the door on my way out I offered him a thousand dollars. And
he refused. And do you know why? I think he's got the notion that by
sticking out he may win you and Eva over and get a partnership here."
McElwin jumped up and slapped his hand upon the table. "I would see
him in----first." He turned about and began to walk slowly up and down
the room.
"But he's going to leave this town," said Sawyer. "When I set my head
on a thing I go at it with reason and work on that line until I find
it hasn't any power, and then I use force. I am going to do it in this
case."
"How?" McElwin asked.
"The boys have a way of getting at a thing that persuasion can't
reach."
"Speak out," said McElwin. "Tell me what you are going to do."
"Well, I am going out into the Spring Hill neighborhood and appeal to
the boys--the White Caps. Then, some fine night, a party, all dressed
in white head-gear, will call on Mr. Lyman. They will put him on a
horse, take him out to the woods, take off his shirt, tie him across a
log and give him fifty lashes as a starter. Then, when they untie
him, they'll remark that if he is not gone within three days they will
give him a hundred. See the point?"
"Zeb, he deserves it, but I'm afraid that course won't do."
"Not weakening, are you?"
"Weakening? Who ever knew me to weaken? I say he deserves it."
"But you say it won't do."
"And I'm afraid it won't. It would create a terrible scandal."
"It's done every week, in some part of the country. Even the most
law-abiding citizens acknowledge that it is a good thing."
"It might do in the country, severe as it is, but it would be
different in town. The law would interfere, and that would be
disgraceful."
"But the law will not interfere. I can fix the town marshal, and as
for the sheriff--he owes me for a span of mules. I have worked it all
out. In the evening I'll go around to Uncle Jasper's with a bottle of
old Bourbon. I'll tell him that I am celebrating my birthday or
something. Once in a while he takes to the bottle, and the old liquor
will tempt him. Well, when he's in good condition, I'll put him to bed
and shortly afterwards the boys will come for brother Lyman. In the
meantime I will see that there are no guns in the way. The women will
be scared, of course, but they'll soon get over it. Isn't that a plan
worthy of a county surveyor?"
"The plan's all right, Zeb, but I'm afraid of it's execution.
Supposing my name should become involved. It would ruin me."
"Yes, but your name sha'n't be involved."
"He will suspect you and me, too."
"But he couldn't prove anything."
"Well, now, you may do as you please, but I'll have no hand in it. I
refuse to countenance it."
"You simply don't know anything about it."
"Of course not. I'm too much taken up with other affairs."
Sawyer arose to go. "I shall see you again, I suppose. I mean before
anything is done," said McElwin. "At the house," he added.
Sawyer looked down: "I don't feel free to come there," he said. "She
has told me not to."
McElwin coughed dryly: "Nonsensical proprieties," he remarked,
scraping his feet upon the floor. "But I am to see you again?"
"I think not--until afterwards. Whatever is done, you know, must be
done at once."
Sawyer went out. The clock struck and McElwin glanced up at it. Then
he settled down into a deep muse. Sawyer's plan was desperate--it was
outlawry. It ought not to be carried out, and yet the provocation was
great. But supposing it should be known that he had given countenance
to the undertaking. Suppose the newspapers should print his name in
connection with it; the public, to say nothing of the law, would frown
upon him. It must not be done. He snatched a piece of paper, and
writing upon it the words: "Give up that scheme at once," sealed it up
and gave it to a negro, with instructions to find Mr. Sawyer and hand
it to him at once. About half an hour later the negro returned with a
note written on a piece of paper bag, and unsealed. The note ran:
"Don't you worry, but it shall be done tonight. Don't try to find me.
I have been fooling long enough, and now I am getting down to
business." He tore the paper into bits, and then strode slowly up and
down the room. Presently he took down his hat, rubbed it abstractedly
with the sleeve of his coat, and went out, remarking that he might not
be back that day. He felt like a criminal as he stepped upon the
sidewalk. But he was stiff, and merely nodded to the tradesmen who
bowed to him cringingly. He was looking for Sawyer, but was afraid to
inquire after him. He went to the wagon yard where Sawyer stabled his
mules, and looked about, but did not find him. The owner of the place,
hard in the presence of the farmers, but obsequiously soft under the
banker's eye, invited him into the office, a dismal place, the walls
hung with halters, bridles, chains and twisting sticks, used to grip
the jaw of a refractory horse and wrench rebellion out of him. The
rough appearance of the stable men within and the pungent smell of the
place, turned McElwin at the threshold.
"No, I don't think I have time," he said.
"Is there anything I can do for you? If there is, name it, and I will
stir up this place from top to bottom."
[Illustration: in the parlour]
McElwin thought that it was stirred up quite enough, with its rough
men, its mangy dogs and rat-like smell. "Nothing at all," he answered.
"I am looking for a farmer, a man named Brown."
"Old Jack? He's around here somewhere. It will tickle him pretty nigh
to death to know you'd look for him. I'll tell him when he comes in."
"Oh, no. He's not the man. This man's quite young, and his name is
Lucian Brown, I think."
"Then I don't know anything about him, I'm sorry to say."
"Are you feeding many mules at present?"
"Well, not many at present, but I expect to have more in a day or two.
Mr. Sawyer has gone down in the country to gather up a lot. He drove
out just a few moments ago. I tell you, there's a hustler, Mr.
McElwin. He don't wait, he makes things happen."
"Which way did he go?" McElwin asked.
"I don't know, exactly, but I think he took the Spring Hill road. He
must be going after something particularly fine, for I heard him tell
old Josh that he wanted a bottle of the oldest liquor in town, no
matter what it costs. But he didn't take it with him, come to
recollect. He 'lowed he'd want it this evening when he come back."
McElwin walked straightway to his home. His appearance at that odd
hour caused surprise, and his wife, having seen him through the
window, came to the door with something of a flurry.
"Is there anything wrong?" she asked, as he stepped into the hall.
"Nothing at all," he answered, hanging up his hat. "Why?"
"Because you are home so early."
"Oh, that's it. I was tired and I thought I'd come home to rest."
She took his arm and they passed into the rear parlor. "Where is Eva?"
he asked, sitting down.
"I don't know. I think she's out for a walk. Are you tired?" she
asked, standing behind him, with her hands resting on the back of the
chair.
"Not now," he said, reaching back and taking her hands. He pressed
them against his cheeks. "You always rest me."
"Do I?" She leaned affectionately over him. "I was afraid that I did
not. You have had so much to worry you of late."
"Yes," he sighed. "But when we are alone I can forget it all. Play
something for me, please."
She looked at him in surprise: "When did you ask me to play, before?"
"I don't know," he answered frankly. "You most always play without my
asking. Sing an old song, something we used to sing long ago."
She went to the piano and touched to life the strains of "Kitty
Clyde." And when her voice arose, he felt a lump in his throat, and he
sat with his eyes shut, with a picture in his heart--an old house, a
honey-suckle, a beautiful girl in white, with a rose in her hair.