He swung himself to the saddle, swept off his hat to the girl, who stood
with the lantern light upon her in the doorway, smiling but flushed, and
shook his bridle. Then there was a jingle that was lost in the thud of
hoofs, and the men vanished into the shadowy prairie. Half an hour later
the homestead was once more dark and silent; but three men sent out by
Grant were riding at a reckless gallop across the great dusky levels, and
breakfast was not finished when those whom they had summoned reached
Fremont ranch.
They were young men for the most part, and Americans, though there were a
few who had only just become so among them, and two or three whose grim
faces and grey hair told of a long struggle with adversity. They were clad
in blue shirts and jean, and the hard brown hands of most betokened a
close acquaintance with plough stilt, axe, and bridle, though here and
there one had from his appearance evidently lived delicately. All appeared
quietly resolute, for they knew that the law which had given them the
right to build their homes upon that prairie as yet left them to bear the
risks attached to the doing of it. Hitherto, the fact that the great
ranchers had made their own laws and enforced them had been ignored or
tacitly accepted by the State.
When they were seated, one of the men deputed to question the prisoner,
stood up. "You can take it that there's nothing to be got out of him," he
said.
"Still," said another, "we know he is one of Clavering's boys."
There was a little murmur, for of all the cattle-barons Clavering was the
only man who had as yet earned his adversaries' individual dislike. They
were prepared to pull down the others because their interests, which they
had little difficulty in fancying coincided with those of their country,
demanded it; but Clavering, with his graceful insolence, ironical contempt
of them, and thinly-veiled pride, was a type of all their democracy
anathematized. More than one of them had winced under his soft laugh and
lightly spoken jibes, which rankled more than a downright injury.
"The question is what we're going to do with him," said a third speaker.
Again the low voices murmured, until a man stood up. "There's one cure for
his complaint, and that's a sure one, but I'm not going to urge it now,"
he said. "Boys, we don't want to be the first to take up the rifle, and it
would make our intentions quite as plain if we dressed him in a coat of
tar and rode him round the town. Nobody would have any use for him after
that, and it would be a bigger slap in Clavering's face than anything else
we could do to him."
Some of the men appeared relieved, for it was evident they had no great
liking for the sterner alternative; and there was acclamation until Grant
rose quietly at the head of the table.
"I've got to move a negative," he said. "It would be better if you handed
him to the Sheriff."
There was astonishment in most of the faces, and somebody said, "The
Sheriff! He'd let him go right off. The cattle-men have got the screw on
him."
"Well," said Larry quietly, "he has done his duty so far, and may do it
again. I figure we ought to give him the chance."
Exclamations of dissent followed, and a man with a grim, lean face stood
up. He spoke tolerable English, but his accent differed from that of the
rest.
"The first man put it straight when he told you there was only one
cure--the one they found out in France a hundred years ago," he said. "You
don't quite realize it yet. You haven't lived as we did back there across
the sea, and seen your women thrust off the pavement into the gutter to
make room for an officer, or been struck with the sword-hilt if you
resented an insult before your fellow citizens. Will you take off your
hats to the rich men who are trampling on you, you republicans, and, while
they leave you the right of speech, beg them to respect your rights and
liberties? Do that, and sit still a little, and they'll fasten the yoke
we've groaned under on your necks."
"I don't know that it isn't eloquent, but it isn't business," said
somebody.
The man laughed sardonically. "That's where you're wrong," he said. "I'm
trying to show you that if you want your liberties you've got to fight for
them, and your leader doesn't seem to know when, by hanging one man, he
can save a hundred from misery. It's not the man who laid the kindling
you're striking at, but, through him, those who employed him. Let them see
you'll take your rights without leave of them. They've sent you warning
that if you stay here they'll burn your homesteads down, and they're
waiting your answer. Hang their firebug where everyone can see him, in the
middle of the town."
It was evident that the men were wavering. They had come there with the
law behind them, but, from their youth up, some following visions that
could never be realized, had hated the bureaucrat, and the rest, crippled
by the want of dollars, had fought with frost and drought and hail. It was
also plain that they felt the capture of the incendiary had given them an
opportunity. Then, when a word would have turned the scale, Grant stood up
at the head of the table, very resolute in face.
"I still move a negative and an amendment, boys," he said. "First, though
that's not the most important, because I've a natural shrinking from
butchering an unarmed man. Secondly, it was not the cattle-men who sent
him, but one of them, and just because he meant to draw you on it would be
the blamedest bad policy to humour him. Would Torrance, or Allonby, or the
others, have done this thing? They're hard men, but they believe they're
right, as we do, and they're Americans. Now for the third reason: when
Clavering meant to burn Muller's homestead, he struck at me, guessing that
some of you would stand behind me. He knew your temper, and he'd have
laughed at us as hot-blooded rabble--you know how he can do it--when he'd
put us in the wrong. Well, this time we'll give the law a show."
There was discussion, but Larry sat still, saying nothing further, with a
curious gravity in his face, until a man stood up again.
"We think you're right," he said. "Still, there's a question. What are you
going to do if they try again?"
"Strike," said Larry quietly. "I'll go with you to the hanging of the next
one."
Nothing more was said, and the men rode away with relief in their faces,
though three of them, girt with rifle and bandolier, trotted behind the
wagon in which the prisoner sat.