Benton of the Royal Mounted Part 16

"So," said Ellis approvingly, "that's better."

Dismounting leisurely, he drew off the loop and coiled up the riata.

"Get yu' over to that openin' in th' brush, where yore partner is," he continued, in an authoritative, menacing voice. "Here!-this way." And, grasping the big man's shoulder, he guided him over to the indicated spot.

There they found the handcuffed, miserable Scotty. He had made no attempt to run away. Naturally a timid rogue, the rough handling that he had received had knocked whatever little pluck he possessed out of him completely. Now he whined like a frightened child, blaming Fisk for their mutual mischance; but the latter cursed savagely back, threatening him in horrid terms, so he ceased his lamentations in pure dread of the other's dominant personality, and relapsed into s.h.i.+vering silence. Fisk began to raise his voice again.

"What d'yu' figure on chargin' us with, anyways?" he snarled. "Why, yu'

ain't got nothin' on us! We was on'y lookin' fur one o' our own hawsses, as we thort might-"

"George," said the Sergeant appealingly, with up-raised, protesting hand, "don't! Yu' gimme a pain-honest, yu' do. I'll tell yu' what I'm chargin' yu' both with, bein' as yu're from Missouri, an' want to be shown." And in no uncertain terms he proceeded to do so, and cautioned them.

"Why didn't yu' call on me an' tell me yore business, as yu're supposed ter do?" bl.u.s.tered Big George in injured tones. "I'd a-come with yu'

peaceable enough. I'll make a statement ag'in yu' two fellers 'bout th'

way I was man-handled."

The policeman uttered a snort of ironical amus.e.m.e.nt.

"'Come peaceable'!" he echoed. "Yes, yu'd a-come peaceable enough-yu've shown that. I've got th' marks an th' feel o' yore little donnies on my throat yet. I don't bear yu' no grudge fur that, though. Yu' go ahead, then, with yore statement, Mister Bloomin' Lawyer, an' I'll come back at _yu'_ with a charge of 'resisting arrest an' a.s.saultin' a police-officer in th' lawful execution of his duty,' fur which yu're liable to get two years extra. 'Call on yu' an' tell yu' my business' indeed! An' who's to prove I _didn't_?" he queried, with an ugly laugh. "If yu' like to call it square why, all right. But if yu' mean actin' dirty, I'll act dirty, too-an' ahead o' yu' at that."

The force of the other's argument seemed to impress the big rustler considerably, and he remained silent.

"I've got yore record from over th' Line, George," the Sergeant continued. "It's sure a peach.... Five years in th' State 'pen' at Huntsville, Texas. Another five in Rawlins, Wyoming. An' three in Sante Fe, New Mexico.... 'Call on' a rough-neck like yu'?" he repeated. "With such a record as that? In th' dark-at close range-with a .45 on yore hip? 'Call on yu'! '-an' bring my knittin'. What'd yu' bin doin' th'

whiles? Shot me dead, most likely, or made some break that'd a-forced me to shoot _yu'_-just 'bout th' last thing I wanted to happen. No, Mister George; for reasons yu'll know later, yu're worth more to me alive than dead. 'Call on yu'!' Not if I know it. I'd trust yu' 'bout as much as I would a grizzly, a wolf, or a 'diamond-back.' Yu' don't get me like them two yu' stretched down at Los Barancedes. Yep, I know all 'bout _that_, too. What's that? On'y 'greasers'? Mebbe-but if th' Rurales'd a-caught yu' they'd a-surely b.u.mped yu' off, greasers or not. Now, see here; look," he concluded with a harsh ring in his raised voice, "yu' get me, once an' for all. Yu're a prisoner. I know my duty as a Mounted Police-Sergeant, an' I don't have to get arguin' th' point with four-flus.h.i.+n', tin-horn sc.u.m like yu'. An' mind, now, what I said about that charge goes if yu' make one more break, talkin' back to me."

A hasty search of the two men's pockets, revealing nothing more dangerous than a jack-knife belonging to Scotty, he turned to Gallagher and bade him bring up the horses.

"Knot th' lines 'round th' horns o' George's an' Scotty's," he said, "an' string 'em together 'bout three foot apart with yore lariat, Barney. I want yu' to trail 'em. I'll come on behind."

When all was in readiness he jerked out a curt order to the captives, to "Climb aboard an' hold onta th' jug-handle!"

"'Member," he added warningly. "I'm close behind, so don't be so foolish as to chance anythin'. First man that does'll get hurt-bad."

Then, and for the first time, Big George noticed the Sergeant's mount.

Speechless for the moment, he stood, pop-eyed, gaping stupidly.

"Look, look!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed to his partner in distress, "why, that's Shorty's-" his voice failed him.

"Eyah! That's what put th' kibosh on me," commiserated poor Scotty feelingly. "He must ha' corralled _him_, too, an' th' --'s given us away. _Must_ have-who else could ha' put this feller onta us?"

Ellis, in his own saturnine fas.h.i.+on, chuckled grimly at this last remark. "Sure," he said, "_that's_ what. Now, yu' fellers climb up _p.r.o.nto_. I ain't a-goin' to hang around here all night."

In dismal silence they obeyed resignedly, and the grim little procession eventually reached the detachment. Wearily they dismounted, and the Sergeant drew Gallagher aside.

"Yu' go on in first Barney," he whispered. "Light th' lamp, an' wake th'

old feller I told yu' about. Tell him to go an' camp in th' kitchen for th' night-I'll bring him in some blankets, later. I don't want them fellers to see _him_."

The other, nodding silently, entered the building, and soon a light shone through the open door. Presently he came out again.

"All set," he said.

The Sergeant then proceeded to usher in his prisoners and, after leg-ironing them together, with a significant gesture handed the key over to Gallagher. Seen in the light the two rustlers presented a grotesquely dissimilar appearance.

Big George fully justified his soubriquet. Standing nearly six feet two, his enormous breadth of shoulder and hairy, barrel-like chest which the torn s.h.i.+rt revealed seemed, somehow, though, to detract from his actual height. His age might have been forty or thereabouts. On some physiognomies evil pa.s.sions have imprinted their danger signals unmistakably. Fisk's sinister countenance, with its somber, desperate eyes and bushy tangle of coal-black beard which hid, one instinctively guessed, a cruel mouth and a terrible, animal-like jaw, might to many imaginations have found its prototype in the ruthless visage of a moss-trooping cattle-reiver of the Middle Ages captured, perchance, in some Border night foray.

In strange comparison to _his_ formidable personality, a comparison which might have been likened to that of a coyote shackled to a grizzly bear, stood alongside him his slightly-built companion, Scotty. He had sandy hair, closely set, s.h.i.+fty blue eyes, and a large, loose-lipped mouth with a receding chin. It was a cunning, vicious, yet decidedly weak face and, noting its defects, one could easily imagine the truth of old Hiram Bryan's previous a.s.sertion: "Th' young chap seems ter do as he tells him."

Ellis, with seemingly careless indifference, but keeping a wary eye on Big George, removed the handcuffs off both men. He then proceeded to relieve them of all their belongings, which he placed in separate bags that were specially made for that purpose, and numbered. Then, after making out an itemized list for each, he began to-ostentatiously-count out their money. Each of the men possessed a small quant.i.ty, and this he put in a couple of envelopes, marking the amount on the outside.

Gallagher, leaning against the door, watched the performance with curious interest. He had an inkling of what was coming. Benton, seating himself, beckoned the two forward to the table. Shackled together, they awkwardly obeyed. He chose Scotty first, and reckoned up the few bills and silver belonging to that individual.

"Eight dollars and sixty-five cents," he concluded. "That correct?"

Scotty nodded. "All right, then," said Ellis, licking up the envelope and pus.h.i.+ng over a pen. "Look over that list an' see 'f it's O. K.

before yu' sign for it."

Scotty glanced through the items and nervously affixed his signature.

The same procedure was gone through with Fisk. As the latter finished signing, the policeman drew the piece of foolscap towards him and, extracting a folded paper from a small wallet, leisurely compared the two specimens of caligraphy. With a satisfied sigh, he thrust them both into his pocket and looked across the table with a sinister smile at Big George.

"Mister Gordon Brown," he murmured reflectively.

The two culprits started violently, and stared with dismay at the man who had thus outwitted them once more. Fisk strove to recover himself.

Over his perturbed, evil face there crept the blank, lifeless expression of duplicity.

"Wha's that?" he inquired innocently.

The Sergeant's smile vanished. His face hardened, and he began to speak, drawling out his words one by one.

"I'm chargin' yu' both," he said sententiously, "with stealin' a team, wagon, an harness, valued at two hundred an' seventy-five dollars, from one, Lloyd Pryce, of Beaver Dam, on th' sixth o' June; afterwards selling the same as your own property to one, Hiram Bryan, on th'

thirteenth o' th' same month." Then followed the customary warning.

"That's all," he finished, "an I guess it's sure enough, too." He eyed them a moment amidst a dead silence, and then broke out irritably:

"What do th' likes o' yu' want to come over _this_ Side for-peddling yore dirty work in a decent, law-abiding country? Why in h-l couldn't yu' stay where yu' both belong? Now, get yu' away back there an' sit on that bench."

Apathetically they obeyed, with the hopeless resignation of men for whom life could hold no more surprises, and which, in Fisk's case, was all the more remarkable, considering his previous belligerent att.i.tude. It had been on the tip of the policeman's tongue to question him as to what had become of the money thus fraudulently obtained but, on second thought, he desisted. Some lie or another would be the only result of such an inquiry, he reflected; and besides, he had warned them.

Gambling, he knew, was notoriously rife at the Wharnock ranch, which was probably the true cause of its disappearance. (A correct guess, as was subsequently proved at their trial.)

Ellis looked at his watch. It was just going on midnight.

"Seems too bad-a-commandeering yu' for all this work, Barney," he said apologetically, to Gallagher.

"Oh, I ain't worryin' none, Sargint," the other answered. "I got that meat in all right, this mornin'; but there's my team I'd like to turn out inter th' pasture, a cow as should be milked, an' some chickens I wanta leave some feed out for. I guess yu'll be wantin' me inter Sabbano with yu' th' next couple o' days, eh?"

Benton nodded. "P'r'aps it's more'n likely somebody'll be around in th'

mornin'," he said hopefully. "An' then yu'll be able to run on down an'

do yore ch.o.r.es. Say, will yu' off-saddle an' fix up th' hawsses? Turn them two belonging to these fellers out in th' pasture-there won't be room for no more when yores an' Shorty's is in-an' say, Barney; bring in all th' blankets yu' can lay yore hands on in there."

In about half an hour the rancher returned, laden with a heavy bundle of the aforesaid articles, which Ellis shook down on the floor in the corner farthest from the door, subtracting two, however, for old Bryan in the kitchen.

"Yu'll have to bunk down here for th' night," he remarked curtly to the prisoners. "Yu' might as well get down to it right away, an' get all th'

sleep yu' can, because it'll be a long trip tomorrow."