SEEN FROM THE WINDOW.
Never before had there been such a bargain between such a man and such a
woman. It was the strangest compact on record. And no wonder Mrs.
Arlington had closed the doors that her daughter and her maid should not
hear! Had June known all she must have turned with loathing and horror
from the woman.
Had D. Roscoe Arlington known he must have been shocked and heart-torn
beyond measure. Had he known he must have wondered if this woman had
matured from the sweet country girl who once declared with blushes and
hanging head that love in a cottage with him was all the happiness she
asked. Had he known he might have remembered the soft moonlight night in
June when beneath the fragrant lilacs they plighted their troth, and
surely his gold-hardened heart would have melted with anguish over the
frightful change.
In truth, Mrs. Arlington had become deranged, as it were, on one point.
Her son was her idol. She had petted, and flattered, and spoiled him.
She had sent him off to school at Fardale with the conviction that he
was certain to rise superior to all other boys there. And from him she
had come to learn that he had not risen, but had been imposed upon,
defeated, baffled, and held down by another lad who was the recognized
leader in the school. Into the ears of his astonished and angry mother
Chester Arlington had poured his tale of woe, and it had filled her soul
with intense hatred for this other boy by the name of Merriwell who had
dared think himself better than her Chester. She had gone to Fardale to
set things about as they should be, and had failed. That seemed to fill
her with such bitterness that she was quite robbed of sober judgment and
reason.
When Mrs. Arlington learned that the mining syndicate had claims to the
mines belonging to Frank and Dick Merriwell, she was aroused. When she
came to understand that the taking of those mines by the syndicate would
leave the Merriwell brothers almost penniless and would be the signal
for Dick Merriwell to leave Fardale, she determined that the thing
should be brought about at any cost of money, or time, or trouble to
herself.
And it was in pursuit of this determination that the wife of D. Roscoe
Arlington had come to Arizona and placed herself face to face with a
ruffian like Cimarron Bill, with whom she now struck a bargain that was
most astounding.
Was the woman in her right mind?
It made little difference to Bill if she were sane or not, as long as he
obtained possession of that money. But when he asked for it in advance
she smiled upon him coldly, almost scornfully.
"You were paid money by the syndicate, and you pledged them to
accomplish a task at which you failed. This time there will be no money
forthcoming until the work is done."
In return the man smiled back at her, and he said:
"That settles it! I'm not a fool. When the work is done I may find
myself on the run for Mexico, with the law reaching for me. In such a
case I'll have no time to collect. Cash in advance is my motto. You'll
bargain with me, or you'll fail, in everything. You cannot get another
man to fill my boots in the whole country. And if you were to throw me
down and give the job over into the hands of another gent, I'd speak one
word to him that would be enough."
"What do you mean?" she asked, wondering and angry. "What word?"
"The word 'stop,'" said Bill. "When Cimarron Bill says 'stop,' you can
bet they stop. They know what it means if they don't. If you don't think
so, count the notches on my guns."
"You mean that you would turn against me?"
"Not exactly, madam; I mean that I have no idea of letting any other
gent get my job. I do this piece of work--or no one does it. I rather
admire the sand of this Merriwell, though I'd slit his throat, just the
same, for the price. If there was no object in being against him, I'd
surely be for him; and it seems that you ought to know better than to
put Cimarron Bill in the ranks of the enemy."
"It's a threat!" cried the woman.
"Not so; it's a business statement, begging your pardon, madam. I don't
propose that any gent shall jump my claim."
"How can I be sure you'll not play me false? How can I know you'll not
take the money and do nothing?"
"The syndicate paid me in advance, as you know. I did my best to earn
the money. It was not my fault that I failed. In this case, if you pay
the sum I have named, I swear to you I'll know no rest until I have
succeeded. If I cannot succeed in one way, I will in another."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I'll capture or kill Frank Merriwell himself."
"If you could do that!" said the woman, with great eagerness. "He is the
great stumbling-block."
"That's right. With him out of the way, taking the mine would be easy."
"Is there no way this can be done before you try to seize the mine?"
"He keeps pretty close to it. If he could be caught by himself. I have
had my hands upon him twice, and he has slipped me both times. Next time
he will not!"
"Next time----"
"An accident will happen to him," assured Bill, with deadly meaning.
"That will be the simplest method."
"You are right!" she said, in a whisper. "If that could happen----"
"Would you pay the money?"
"I would. Understand, I make no bargain with you for such a thing, but
that mine must be torn from him somehow. I have with me some money."
Cimarron Bill understood her well, and he nodded.
"Madam," he said, "give me a little time and I'll find a way to see to
it."
At this moment there was a commotion in the street, the sound of
fighting dogs, shouts of men, and the clatter of horses' hoofs.
Bill rose quickly and strode to the window, looking down into the
street. A handsome Irish setter had been attacked by two mongrel dogs,
and he was giving those dogs the surprise of their lives. He had one by
the neck in a moment, and the mongrel was shaken like a rat. When the
setter let go the mongrel took to his heels, howling with pain and
terror. Then the setter turned on the other dog and a battle that was
fierce enough for a few moments ensued, which ended again in the
complete triumph of the setter.
Two young men had ridden into town behind the setter, and they had drawn
up to witness the result of the fight. A crowd had quickly gathered, and
the triumphant setter was loudly applauded.
At sight of one of the two horsemen Cimarron Bill burst forth with an
exclamation of excitement.
"Look!" he said, pointing from the open window. "See--see that fellow on
the dark horse!"
Mrs. Arlington was near the window.
"The one with the small mustache?" she asked.
"Yes, that's the one."
"I see him."
"Well, that's Frank Merriwell!" said Bill.
Cimarron Bill was right. Frank Merriwell and Bart Hodge had ridden into
Holbrook, and with them had come Boxer, the dog. Boxer had been attacked
by the mongrel curs, and he showed his mettle by quickly putting them to
flight.
As Bill gazed down from that window the evil light in his eyes deepened.
"Remember our bargain!" he said in such a terrible voice that the woman
at his side shuddered.
Then she saw him bring forth a revolver, and, knowing what he meant to
do, she uttered a little scream and ran back into another part of the
room, unwilling to witness the dark deed.
Quickly kneeling, Bill rested his elbow on the window-ledge and took
aim, meaning to send a bullet through the heart of the rightful owner of
the Queen Mystery Mine.
The commotion in the street and her mother's cry had brought June
Arlington into that room. June saw the man with the revolver, and her
eyes fell on the horseman below. She recognized Frank Merriwell, for all
that he was bronzed and changed, and had a small mustache.
With a sudden scream, the girl flung herself on Bill and spoiled his
aim, so that when the revolver spouted smoke the bullet flew wide of the
mark intended.
Bill uttered a savage snarl, wheeling about.
"You wretch!" panted the girl, who was now pale as snow. "You
murderer!"
The man was dazzled by her beauty. Immediately he moved back from the
window, bowing low.
"Beg your pardon, miss," he said. "He sure is an enemy of mine, and out
here we shoots on sight. But mebbe he is your friend, in which case I
lets up and gives him another show."
In that moment of excitement he had fallen into the frontier manner of
speaking.
She looked at him with unspeakable horror in her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she panted. "You--you--murderer! Mother--this
man--why is he here?"
But Mrs. Arlington, usually cold as ice and perfectly self-possessed,
had quite lost her nerve. She sank into a chair, seeming on the verge of
fainting, while she gave Bill a look that, ruffian though he was, he
understood as an appeal to be left alone with June.
Nor was he loath about getting out of that room. His pistol had been
discharged from the window, and, though the bullet had found no human
target, men might come in haste to ask unpleasant questions.
"I begs your pardon, madam," he said, hurriedly picking up his hat. "I
thinks I'll call again and finish this yere bit o' business. Just now I
has another matter to attend to."
Then he hastened out.
June had flown to her mother.
"Tell me--tell me, mother, what it means!" she implored.
"My smelling-salts," faintly breathed the woman. "My heart, June! I--I'm
afraid!"
Now, June knew well that the one great fear of her mother's life was
sudden death from a heart trouble that came upon her at times, and so
the girl hastened to bring out the bottle of salts and hold it beneath
the pale lady's nose till she was somewhat recovered, though still
resting limp on her chair and breathing heavily.
"What does it mean, mother?" asked the girl again. "I do not understand
these strange things. I do not understand why such a wicked-looking man
should be here in this room and about to shoot down in cold blood a
young man in the street. He would have shot him from this very window
had not I spoiled his aim."
Mrs. Arlington turned her eyes toward her daughter's face, but looked
away quickly, still trembling.
"Did you know him at whom the man was about to shoot?" she weakly asked.
"Yes, I knew him, or I am much mistaken. It was Frank Merriwell. I saw
him at the hotel in Fardale the day I returned to him those papers. You
recollect, mother?"
"Yes, I remember it all too well, and it was the giving back to him of
those papers that has made no end of trouble for us all. But for that
foolish act of yours, June, he would not still be holding the mines that
are rightfully the property of the C. M. A. of A."
"If those mines do not belong to him, how is it that he can hold them?"
"He has possession, and he holds it with armed men."
"But the law----"
"The law is slow, and, without those papers, it is not very sure. It is
your folly, girl," declared the woman reproachfully, "that has made no
end of trouble. It is your folly that brought Frank Merriwell near to
his end a few moments ago, though you it was who saved him then."
"Mother, you speak in riddles! How can that be? I gave him back what was
his. And have you forgotten that it was his brother, Dick, who kept you
from slipping beneath the car-wheels, where you must have been maimed or
killed?"
At this Mrs. Arlington sat up, and something like anger took from her
her great pallor.
"No," said she, "nor have I forgotten that it was Dick Merriwell who
brought upon my son all his trouble at Fardale! Dick Merriwell has been
his blight there! Dick Merriwell is his enemy. He has tried to set
himself over my boy, and no one shall do that!"
June knew how useless it was to talk of this matter with her mother, who
refused to listen to reason, and so she did not try to press it further;
but she again asked who was the man who had tried to shoot from the
window.
"He was a miner," said Mrs. Arlington.
"And what business had he here in this room?"
"That is nothing to you, girl. Forget that you saw him here."
"A thing easier said than done, mother. I saw his face and his eyes, and
I know he is a wicked man and one to be greatly feared. Why should you
have dealings with such a wretch?"
"You ask too many needless questions, June. Look out and tell me if you
still see anything of--of--Frank Merriwell."
But when June looked from the window Frank Merriwell was not to be seen
on the street, which had again resumed its usual aspect.
"I must have a spell of quiet to restore my nerves, June," said Mrs.
Arlington, when the girl had told her. "Leave me. Call Jackson. I think
I will lie down."
So the colored maid was called, and June lingered to make sure there was
nothing she could do for her mother, who coldly bade her go.
In her own room June found herself filled with tempestuous thoughts and
vain speculations. She was bewildered by it all, and there was much that
she could not understand, for her mother had told her little or nothing
of what had brought them to that Arizona town. She was wise enough to
know full well that the lady had not come there in search of health, and
surely it could not be pleasure she expected in such a place, which left
but one thing to suppose--it was business. But what sort of business
could she have there? and why should she meet and do business with a
murderous wretch like the man who had tried to shoot Frank Merriwell
from the open window?
Knowing there was little danger of interruption, June found pen, ink,
and paper and sat herself down to write a letter. She thought at first
that she would make it very brief, and she found it exceedingly hard to
begin; but when she had begun it, it ran on and on until she had written
many pages. Sometimes she laughed over it, and sometimes she blushed;
once her chin quivered and tears seemed to fill her splendid eyes. When
it was all finished she read it over, her cheeks glowing, and at the end
she kissed the paper, at which the blush swept down to her very neck,
and in great confusion she folded it all hastily and put it into an
envelope, which she hurriedly sealed. Although she was not aware of it,
she had spent nearly two hours over the letter. On the envelope she
wrote a name and address, and then, finding her hat, she slipped out to
mail it.