GEORGE PROVES AN ALIBI.
"Young fellow," exclaimed Joe, who was the first to speak. "I have often
said that when I came across the champion liar, I would give him my hat.
I think you are fairly entitled to it. Here, take it!" he added, pulling
off his sombrero and extending it toward George, who was forced to smile
in spite of himself. "I'll go home bareheaded!"
"You are a good one, I declare," remarked Mr. Lowry. "I said you should
never back my horse again, but I think you have earned a ride. Jump on
and come with us."
Without a moment's hesitation George swung himself upon Silk Stocking's
back and rode away with the ranchemen, who burst out into fresh peals of
laughter every time they looked at him.
"Do you know any more funny stories?" asked Joe, at length.
"I have only made a beginning," answered George.
"Got more of them back, have you?" exclaimed Mr. Lowry. "If I wasn't so
mad at you I would let you go on, just to see how big a story you can
tell."
"I could tell you one that would make you open your eyes," said George,
"and it would be nothing but the truth. But I know you wouldn't believe
a word of it, and perhaps it would be better that you should hear it
from somebody besides myself. You will give me a chance to prove that I
am not the boy you take me for, will you not?"
"O, yes," replied Mr. Lowry, who seemed to have recovered his
good-nature all of a sudden. "We'll give you all the chance you want."
"Then let's turn off here to the right. This is my ranche--or rather it
will be mine if I live to be twenty-one years old--and that house you
see over there was my home when my father was alive."
There was something in those words that touched Joe's heart. He looked
steadily at George for a moment, and then asked in a much kinder tone
of voice than he had thus far used in addressing him.
"Where is your home now?"
"I have none," replied George sadly. "But that is a part of my story,
and, as I said before, I would rather that somebody else should tell it
to you. Then perhaps you will believe it."
After this the three relapsed into silence, and did not speak again
until they rode around the house and drew rein in front of the porch.
Jake, who was acting as manager of the ranche during Uncle John's
absence, and Bob, another herdsman, who was officiating as cook, hearing
the sound of their horses' hoofs, came out to see who the visitors were.
At that moment George was just dismounting. The men took one look at his
sombrero, ornamented with its gaudy cord and tassel, and at the
patent-leather boots, with their silver-plated spurs, and were about to
walk away with an exclamation of disgust, when George turned his face
toward them. Then they uttered ejaculations indicative of the greatest
astonishment, and springing forward caught him in their arms.
"Why, Mr. George, _is_ this you?" cried Jake, when he had given the boy
two or three bear-like hugs, during which he swung him clear off the
ground. "It is, aint it? We thought the Greasers had got you, sure."
"And so they did have me," answered George, after he had brushed back
his hair and replaced his sombrero, which had fallen from his head. "I
have only just escaped from them. Now, Jake, I want you to answer a few
questions for me."
"Heave ahead, Mr. George," replied Jake. "Thar's been a heap of things
goin' on here since you've been away."
"I don't care anything about that. I want you to tell my friends here
who I am."
"Who you be?" The herdsman backed away and gave the boy a good looking
over, as if to make sure of his identity, and continued almost
indignantly: "Why, you are George Ackerman, the young gentleman who will
some day own this yere ranche an' everything what's onto it. An' a
mighty fine piece of property it is, too, gents," he added, nodding to
the two horsemen, who had not yet dismounted. "Worth a clean forty
thousand a year."
"Never mind that," said George, hastily. "Whose clothes are these I have
on?"
"They are Ned Ackerman's," replied Jake, throwing as much contempt as he
could into his tones. "But how you came by 'em, and how you can bring
yourself to wear that feller's duds, beats my time all holler. Don't it
your'n, Bob? He's the chap, gents, Ned is, who traded for this very
hoss, an' who held fast to him arter he knowed that he had oughter give
him up. He's the fine lad that shot Cook's cattle, too, Ned is. Oh, he's
meaner'n--meaner'n----"
Jake flourished his clenched hand over his head and glared wildly about,
being utterly at a loss for a simile.
"Remember who he is and say nothing hard against him," said George
quietly. "He has never injured you in any way. Was Ned at home on the
night these gentlemen came here in search of Silk Stocking?"
"'Course he was. He stood right here on the porch an' heard everything
they had to tell about the hoss bein' stole. That's why I say he had
oughter give him up."
"What was the reason he would not surrender him?"
"'Cause he dassent, the coward. He was afeared they'd trounce him. An'
served him right if you had, too, gents. That boy oughter have some
sense pounded into him."
"Hold on, Jake. Where was I on the night in question?"
"You? You was off to Catfish Falls, a'most a hundred miles from here,
whar the Greasers jumped down on you an' stampeded your cattle."
"Then they did rob me of my cattle, did they?"
"Mr. George!" exclaimed the herdsman, who had been every moment growing
angrier under this catechising, of which he could not see the object,
"what be you tryin' to get through yourself, any how?"
"Nothing at all. I only want you to answer my questions. Did the raiders
run off any of my cattle?"
"They run 'em all off; but Zeke, he put the settlers on the trail an'
got 'em all back agin. Mighty pretty herd it is, too, gents. Three
hundred head of 'em, an' all fit for market."
"You remember the night these gentlemen came here to punish Ned, and you
assisted me to get him out of the house before they arrived, do you
not?"
"I ain't likely to forget it," replied Jake, drawing himself up to his
full height, and looking defiantly at the two horsemen, as if to say
that if he and George had done anything wrong in assisting Ned in his
extremity, and they felt like punishing them for it, they (Mr. Lowry and
Joe) were quite welcome to attempt it.
"Have you any idea who it was that met these men before they reached the
rancho, and sent them off toward Palos on a wild-goose chase?"
"I know who it was; it was Philip."
"Where was the horse at the time?"
"He was across the Rio, most likely. But if he was there, I don't know
how you got him. Howsomever, I _do_ know, gents, that he went off with
the Greasers on the night they jumped down on this rancho."
"How do you know that it was Philip who sent them off towards Palos?"
The herdsman suddenly lost his defiant attitude, and became almost
cringing.
"I really don't like to tell, Mr. George," said he, after making several
ineffectual attempts to speak, "'cause, it's something I never did
afore. But I s'pose I'll have to answer that question, won't I? Wal, the
fact is, I never did like the way that chap Philip went snoopin' around
while he was here. On the night these gents came to the rancho, I seed
that he was riding about a good deal on hoss-back, an' that was
something I never knowed him to do afore. I seed him when he came back
an' put his hoss into the corral, an' I seed him, too, when he walked
into the house, an' straight to the office whar Mr. Ackerman was. He
went without bein' asked, an' that made me think that he was up to
something pizen; so I crept along the hall, an' looked in at the
key-hole. I didn't see nothing, though, for the cunnin' rascal had hung
his hat over the key-hole; but I heard something an' I--I listened, I
did, Mr. George. I never done it afore, an' I'll never do it agin, if
you don't want me to."
"All is fair in war," exclaimed Mr. Lowry.
He and his companion were so deeply interested, and so utterly amazed at
what they heard, that neither of them had spoken before. George had
proved that he had uttered nothing but the truth when he told them that
he could make them open their eyes.
"What did you hear?" added Mr. Lowry.
"Wal, gents, in the first place I heared something private, which I
don't tell to nobody but Mr. George," said Jake; and this answer proved
him to be a discreet as well as a faithful friend. "In the next place I
heared him tell Mr. Ackerman that he had met you on the trail, an' sent
you off towards Palos. In the next place, he said that the trail was
watched, so't George couldn't never come home agin."
"Who were watching for him, and what was the reason they didn't want him
to come home?" asked Joe.
"That was one of the private things you heard, I suppose?" remarked Mr.
Lowry.
"Sartinly, it was. That's something I can't tell you, gents. After that
Philip went on to tell that he had hunted up some Greasers an' put them
on the trail of Mr. George, who had started to guide his cousin to
Brownsville, an'--an' that's all."
Jake was about to add that Philip had suggested that his employer had
better pasture a thousand head of cattle near the river, so that they
could be easily captured by the raiders, as Uncle John had agreed to do
in case George was got out of the way, so that Ned could claim the
property; but he checked himself just in time.
"No, that ain't all neither," he added, after a moment's reflection. "I
listened at that thar key-hole till Philip opened the door to come out,
an' then I lifted him, _I_ tell _you_. I knocked him clean acrost the
room, just to let him an' Mr. Ackerman see that I knowed all about it.
Then, thinkin' that two heads was better than one in a furse like that,
I hunted up Bob, here, who had just happened to come into the kitchen.
He listened to what I had to say, an' then he allowed that we had
oughter gobble the varmint, 'cause most likely the settlers would want
to see him in the mornin'; but when we went back arter him, we found
that he had skipped. We ain't none of us seed him since."
George, who could not think of any other questions that he wanted to ask
just then, turned to Mr. Lowry and his companions and said, with a
smile--
"Now, Mr. Joe--I don't know what other name to call you--I shall be
happy to take your hat if you still consider me the champion liar."
George did not notice how quickly Jake's face and Bob's flushed with
anger when they heard these words, and neither did the ranchemen.
"I beg your pardon, George," said Joe, promptly. "I am sorry I said it,
but you will confess that appearances were very much against you."
"Didn't I say as much?" asked George, in reply. "Now, gentlemen, get
down and come into the house. As soon as we have had some breakfast, we
will ride over and see Mr. Gilbert and Mr. Cook."
"My lad," said Mr. Lowry, as he swung himself out of his saddle and
shook George warmly by the hand, "we can see now that we made a great
mistake. I never listened to a more remarkable story."
"But it is the truth, every word of it," roared the herdsman, as he
brought one of his huge fists down into his open hand with a ringing
slap. "An' any gent who don't believe it, just wants to step out with me
in front of this shed. We will soon see who's the champion liar."
"Jake, come back here and behave yourself," commanded George.
"I wouldn't get excited, my friend," said Mr. Lowry, calmly. "Never mind
him," he added, turning to George. "I don't blame him. I should do the
same thing myself under similar circumstances. We are entirely
satisfied, and there is no necessity of proceeding further in the
matter."
"There is one thing I forgot, Jake," exclaimed George, suddenly. "Where
is Uncle John now?"
"Gone to Brownsville," replied the herdsman, who was in a very bad
humor. "As soon as I knocked Philip down, he packed up an' cleared
himself. I have since found out that he went over to Gilbert's and left
money enough with him to pay for this hoss an' for the cattle that were
shot."
"Who is cook now that Philip has gone?"
"I am," said Bob, gruffly.
"Well, then, show us what you can do in that line, by serving up a good
breakfast in a little less than no time," said George, paying no
attention to Bob's black looks. "I, for one, shall bring a sharp
appetite to it. Jake, see that these three horses are fed, and pick out
a good one for me to ride over to Mr. Gilbert's. Ranger I shall never
see again. I left him in the hands of the guerrillas, and I suppose he
is on his way to Queretaro before this time. Come in, gentlemen."
Bob scowled savagely at George's guests as they passed, and as soon as
he saw them enter the hall, he walked slowly into the kitchen. His first
move was to take down from a nail in the wall a broad belt containing a
brace of navy revolvers. This he buckled about his waist, after which he
began his preparations for breakfast. When Jake came in, having attended
to the horses that had been entrusted to his care, he proceeded to arm
himself in the same manner. Then he threw himself into the nearest chair
and assumed a sort of dogged, defiant air as if he were waiting for
something to turn up.
What was the meaning of these warlike preparations? Why, one of the
ranchemen had called George the champion liar, and that, according to a
Texan's code, was a mortal offence. Explanations and apologies would not
make amends for it; nothing but a fight could do that. Jake and Bob
thought that the affray ought to have come off at once; and after they
had satisfied George's wounded honor by putting a bullet or two into
each of the visitors, then they would have invited them to breakfast,
but not before. However, the matter could be brought to a settlement
when the visitors went away, and the herdsmen were both determined that
it should be done. But George, being a Texan himself and understanding
the customs of the country, was on the alert. Having conducted the
ranchemen into the sitting-room, which Uncle John had furnished in such
gorgeous style, he excused himself for a moment and hurried into the
kitchen. The countenances of the two men he found there lighted up as he
entered, but fell again when George, pointing to the revolvers, said
quietly--
"Pull those things off!"
"But, Mr. George," began Jake.
"Pull those things off!" repeated the boy. "I know what you mean by this
nonsense, but I shall not allow my guests to be insulted in any such
way. You'd look nice, wouldn't you, Bob, waiting at table with a brace
of navy revolvers strapped about your waist? Why, those men in there
could use you up in a minute."
"Wal, I'd see that the buffalo gnats didn't bother 'em none while they
was a doin' it," replied Bob, sullenly.
"Pull those things _off_, I say!" exclaimed George, again, "or else
clear out and leave me to get breakfast alone."
That settled the matter. The herdsmen reluctantly obeyed the order, and
when George had seen the revolvers hung up where they belonged, he left
the kitchen and went to his own room. He quickly threw off his cousin's
fancy clothes--he was glad to get rid of them--and having removed all
travel-stains from his hands and face, and put on a neat business-suit
and a pair of well-blacked boots, he went back to his guests again. The
change in his dress made a great difference in his appearance, and if
Ned could have seen him now, perhaps he would not have been ashamed of
him.
During the half hour that elapsed before Bob announced that breakfast
was ready, George and his visitors chatted as unreservedly and
familiarly as three friends would who had long been separated. The
ranchemen told of their exciting race after the thief who had stolen the
horse, described their journey to Brownsville and back, and laughed over
their numerous failures to capture the boy of whom they were in search;
and George, in return, explained why he had sent them so far out of
their course on the morning they left his camp, and astonished them by
declaring that he was in the library on the night they came to Mr.
Gilbert's rancho, and that he had heard some of the threats they made
concerning him. The men praised him for his adroitness, and said that
he was a brave boy to risk so much for the sake of his cousin. If they
had known just how he stood in regard to that same graceless relative,
their admiration would have been greatly increased.
An excellent breakfast having been disposed of the horses were brought
to the door, and in a few minutes more George and the two ranchemen were
in the saddle, and riding toward Mr. Gilbert's rancho. That gentleman
regarded them with some uneasiness as they drew rein and dismounted in
front of his porch, but Mr. Lowry's first words reassured him.
"It is all right, sir," said he, as he grasped Mr. Gilbert's hand. "We
know all about it, and we beg to take back the hard things we said in
your hearing about the people living in this settlement. We were nicely
outwitted by everybody with whom we came in contact; but, as I said
before, it is all right."
Mr. Gilbert cordially returned Mr. Lowry's greeting and Joe's, and then
turned to welcome George.
"You can't imagine how anxious I have been about you," said he. "Jake
turned me out of bed to tell me that Philip had put some Greasers on
your trail, and I was really afraid that they might capture you."
"So they did," exclaimed Joe, before George could speak. "If they hadn't
caught him, we wouldn't have had Silk Stocking now."
Mr. Gilbert opened his eyes in surprise.
"I wondered how you got the animal back," said he, "for I knew that he
had gone off with the raiders. Come in, and tell me all about it."
The horses having been given into the charge of one of the herdsmen, Mr.
Gilbert ushered his visitors into the library.