Randall Parrish - Beth Norvell

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She released her clasp upon his arm, her eyes drooping behind their
long lashes, the merry laughter fading from her lips.

"Dat vas not von bit nice of you, senor. Vy you ever keep bodder me
so, ven I good to you? No, I tol' you not ask me dat so quick soon
again. Did I not do dis? I tol' you den I know not; I meet you only
de twice--how I lofe ven I meet you only de twice?"

"You 've m-m-met me as often a-as I h-h-have you," he interrupted, "an'
I kn-know I l-love you all right."

"Oh, dat vas diff'rent, ver' different," and she tripped back from him,
with a coquettish toss of the black head. "Vy not? of course. I vas
Mercedes--_si_; vas dat not enough? All de _caballeros_ say dat to me;
dey say me ver' pretty girl. You tink dat too, senor?"

The perplexed Brown, fully conscious that his great strength was
useless here, looked an answer, although his lips merely sputtered in
vain attempt at speech.

"So; I read dat in de eyes. Den of course you lofe me. It vas de
nature. But vis me it vas not so easy; no, not near so easy. I tink
maybe you ver' nice man," she tipped it off upon her finger ends half
playfully, constantly flashing her eyes up into his puzzled face. "I
tink you ver' good man; I tink you ver' strong man; I tink maybe you be
ver' nice to Mercedes. 'T is for all dose tings dat I like you, senor,
like you ver' mooch; but lofe, dat means more as like, an' I know not
for sure. Maybe so, maybe not so; how I tell yet for true? I tink de
best ting be I not say eet, but just tink 'bout eet; just keep eet in
mine own heart till some odder time ven I sure know. Vas eet not so?"

Brown set his teeth half savagely, the little witch tantalizing him
with the swiftness of her speech, the coy archness of her manner. To
his slower mentality she was like a humming-bird darting about from
flower to flower, yet ever evading him.

"M-maybe yer think I ain't in e-e-earnest?" he persisted, doggedly.
"M-maybe yer imagine I d-did n't m-m-mean what I s-said when I asked
yer ter m-marry me?"

She glanced up quickly into his serious eyes, half shrinking away as if
she suddenly comprehended the dumb, patient strength of the man, his
rugged, changeless resolution. There was a bit of falter in the quick
response, yet this was lost to him.

"No, senor, I no make fun. I no dat kind. I do de right, dat all; I
do de right for both of us. I no vant to do de wrong. You
_comprende_, senor? Maybe you soon grow ver' tire Mercedes, she marry
you?"

The infatuated miner shook his head emphatically, and flung out one
hand toward her.

"No! Oh, you tink so now; you tink so ver' mooch now, but eet better
ve vait an' see. I know de men an' de vay dey forget after vile.
Maybe I not such good voman like you tink me; maybe I cross, scold, get
qvick mad; maybe I no like live widout de stage, de lights, de dance,
an' de fun, hey? Vat you do den? You be ver' sorry you marry. I no
like dat, no, no. I want de man to lofe me always--nevah to vish he
not marry me. You not know me yet; I not know you. Maybe ve vait, ve
know."

He caught her gesticulating hands, prisoning them strongly within both
his own, but she shook forward her loosened hair until it fell
partially across her face, hiding it thus from his eager eyes bent in
passion upon her.

"B-but tell me y-you love me! T-tell me th-th-that, an' I 'll let the
o-other go!"

"You vould make me to say de untrue, senor?"

"Of course not. I w-want ter kn-kn-know. Only if you d-do n't, I 'm
a-goin' t-ter git out o' yere."

She remained silent, motionless, her telltale face shadowed, only the
quick rise and fall of the bosom evidencing emotion. The man looked at
her helplessly, his mouth setting firm, his eyes becoming filled with
sudden doubt.

"W-well, Mercedes," he stuttered, unable to restrain himself, "wh-what
is it?"

She lifted her lowered head ever so slightly, so that he saw her
profile, the flush on the cheek turned toward him.

"Maybe eet better you stay, senor. Anyhow, I no vant you go just now."

For once he proved the more swift of the two, clasping her instantly
within his arms, drawing her slender form close against him with a
strength he failed to realize in that sudden excess of passion.
Holding her thus in helpless subjection he flung aside the obstructing
veil of hair, and covered the flushed cheeks with kisses. The next
moment, breathless, but not with indignation, the girl had pushed his
burning face aside, although she still lay quivering within the
remorseless clasp of his arms.

"I no said all dat, senor; I no said all dat. You so ver' strong, you
hurt Mercedes. Please, senor--eet vas not dat I meant eet should be
dis vay--no, no. I no said I lofe you; I just say stay till maybe I
know vich--please, senor."

"N-not till yer k-kiss me yourself," and Brown, intensely conscious of
triumph, held back the mass of black hair, his eager eyes devouring the
fair face pressing his shoulder. "O-one kiss w-with ther l-l-lips, an'
I 'll let yer g-go."

"No, no, senor."

"Th-then I h-hold yer here till some one comes."

"Eet vas not lofe; eet vas just to get avay."

"I-I-I take ch-chances on that, l-little girl."

Their lips met and clung; all unconsciously the free arm of the girl
stole upward, clasping the man's broad shoulder. For that one instant
she forgot all excepting the new joy of that embrace, the crowning
faith that this man loved her as no other ever had--truly, nobly, and
forever. Her face was aglow as she drew reluctantly back from him, her
eyes upon his, her cheeks flushed, her lips trembling. Yet with the
parting came as swiftly back the resolution which made her strong.

"Eh, senor; eet shame me, but you promise--please, senor!"

Like a flash, in some mysterious manner, she had slipped free, evaded
his effort to grasp her dress, and, with quick, whirling motion, was
already half-way across the open space, daring to mock him even while
flinging back her long hair, the sunlight full upon her. Never could
she appear more delicately attractive, more coquettishly charming.

"Ah, see--you tink me de prisoner. Eet vas not all de strength, senor,
not all. You no can catch me again till I lofe you; not de once till I
lofe you, senor."

He started toward her blindly, taunted by these unexpected words of
renunciation. But she danced away, ever managing to keep well beyond
reach, until she disappeared within the narrow path leading to the
cabin. He could see her through the vista of branches, pausing to look
back and watch if he followed.

"B-but you do," he called out, "I-I know you d-do. Won't yer just
s-s-say it for me onct?"

"Say dat I marry you?"

"Y-yes, for it means ther same. Anyhow, s-say yer love me."

She laughed, shaking her head so hard the black hair became a whirling
cloud about her.

"No, no! eet not de same, senor. Maybe I lofe you, maybe not yet. Dat
ees vat you must fin' out. But marry? Dat no show I lofe you. Oh, de
men! to tink eet vas de only vay to prove lofe to marry. No, no! maybe
I show you some day eef I lofe you; si, some day I show you ven I know
true. But dat not mean I marry you. Dat mean more as dat--you see.
_Adios_, senor."

And he stood alone, staring at the blank door, strangely happy,
although not content.

CHAPTER XXI

UNDER ARREST

When Brown emerged from behind the protection of the cabin, his
freckled face yet burning red in memory of his strenuous love-making,
he discovered both Hicks and Winston standing upon the rock which
shortly before had formed their breakfast table, gazing watchfully off
into the purple depths of the canyon, occasionally lifting their eyes
to search carefully the nearer surroundings about the hostile
"Independence." Something serious was in the air, and all three men
felt its mysterious presence. Hicks held the field-glasses in his
hands, outwardly calm, yet his old face already beginning to exhibit
the excitement of rapidly culminating events. That they were not to be
long left undisturbed was promised by an increasing number of figures
distinctly visible around the distant shaft-house and dump, as well as
the continuous shouting, indistinguishable as to words but pronounced
in volume, borne through the clear air to their ears.

"I 'm a liar if ther was n't twenty in that last bunch," Hicks
muttered, just a trifle uneasily. "Good Lord boys! it 's an army they
're organizin' over yonder. Blame me if I onderstan' that sorter
scheme at all. It don't look nat'ral. I never thought Farnham was no
coward when ther time come fer fightin', but this kind o' fixin' shore
looks as if we had him skeered stiff. Wal, it 'll take more 'n a bunch
o' San Juan toughs to skeer me. I reckon ther present plan must be ter
try rushin' ther 'Little Yankee.'"

He wheeled about, driving the extended tubes of his glass together, his
gray beard forking out in front of his lean, brown face like so many
bristles.

"Oh, is thet you come back, Stutter? Thought I heerd somebody walkin'
behind me. I reckon, judgin' from ther outlook over thar, thet the
dance is 'bout ter begin; leastwise, the fiddlers is takin' their
places," and he waved his gnarled hand toward the distant crowd. "Got
somethin' like a reg'ment thar now, hoss and fut, an' it's safe ter bet
thar 's more a-comin'. This yere fracas must be gittin' some
celebrated, an' bids fair ter draw bigger 'n a three-ringed circus.
All ther scum o' San Juan must 'a got a private tip thet we was easy
marks. They 're out yere like crows hopin' ter pick our bones clean
afore the law kin git any show at all. Wal, it 'll be a tough meal all
right, an' some of 'em are mighty liable ter have trouble with their
digestion, fer thar 's goin' ter be considerable lead eat first. Now
see yere, Stutter, the safest thing we kin do is git ready. You chase
that whole bunch yonder back behind them rocks, where they 'll be out
o' the way--the Swede an' the women. Do it lively, an' you an' Mike
stay up thar with 'em, with your guns handy. Keep under cover as much
as ye kin, for some o' them lads out thar will have glasses with 'em,
and be watchin' of us almighty close. Hurry 'long now; me an' Winston
will stop yere until we find out just what their little game is likely
ter be."

He turned away from his partner, facing once again toward the
"Independence." Then he readjusted the tubes, and passed them over to
his silent companion.

"Just see what you make out o' it, Mr. Winston; ye 're some younger,
an' yer eyes ought ter be a heap better 'n mine."

The young engineer, his heart already beginning to throb with the
excitement of an unaccustomed position of danger, ran the lenses
carefully back and forth from the half-concealed bunk-house to the
nearer ore-dump, searching for every sign of life. Whatever emotion
swayed him, there was not the slightest tremor to the steady hands
supporting the levelled tubes.

"They have certainly got together a considerable number of men," he
reported, the glass still at his eyes. "Roughs the most of them look
to be, from their clothes. The largest number are grouped in between
the shaft-house and the dump, but there must be a dozen or fifteen down
below at the edge of those cedars. Farnham is at the shaft-house--no,
he and another fellow have just started down the dump, walking this
way. Now they have gone into the cedars, and are coming straight
through. What's up, do you suppose--negotiations?"

"I 'm damned if I know," returned the old miner, staring blankly.
"This whole thing kinder jiggers me. Maybe he thinks he kin skeer us
out by a good brand o' talk. He 's a bit o' a bluffer, that Farnham."

The two watchers waited in breathless expectancy, leaning on their
loaded Winchesters, their eyes eagerly fastened on the concealing
cedars. Behind where they remained in the open, yet within easy
rifle-shot, the heads of Brown and Old Mike rose cautiously above the
rock rampart of their natural fort. Suddenly two men, walking abreast,
emerged from out the shadow of the wood, and came straight toward them
across the open ridge of rocks. They advanced carelessly, making no
effort to pick their path, and in apparently utter indifference to any
possible peril. The one was Farnham, his slender form erect, his
shoulders squared, his hat pushed jauntily back so as to reveal fully
the smoothly shaven face. The other bent slightly forward as he
walked, his wide brim drawn low over his eyes, leaving little visible
except the point of a closely trimmed beard. He was heavily built, and
a "45" dangled conspicuously at his hip. If Farnham bore arms they
were concealed beneath the skirt of his coat. Watching them approach,
Winston's eyes became threatening, his hands involuntarily clinching,
but Hicks remained motionless, his lean jaws continuously munching on
the tobacco in his cheek.

"Who the hell is that with him?" he questioned, wonderingly. "Do you
know the feller?"

Winston shook his head, his own steady gaze riveted upon Farnham.
Deliberately the two climbed the low ore-dump side by side, and came
forth on top into the full glare of the sun. Hicks's Winchester sank
to a level, his wicked old eye peering along the polished barrel.

"I 'll have to ask ye ter stop right thar, gents," he said, genially,
drawing back the hammer with a sharp click. "Ye 're trespassin' on my
property."

The two men came to an instant halt, Farnham smiling unpleasantly, his
hands buried in his pockets. His companion hastily shoved back his
hat, as though in surprise at the summons, revealing a broad, ruddy
face, shadowed by iron-gray whiskers. Hicks half lowered his gun,
giving vent to a smothered oath.

"By God, it's the sheriff!" he muttered, in complete bewilderment.
"What the hell are we up against?"

There was an interval of intense silence, both parties gazing at each
other, the one side startled, unnerved, the other cool, contemptuous.
It was the sheriff who first spoke, standing firmly on his short legs,
and quietly stroking his beard.

"You probably recognize me, Bill Hicks," he said, calmly, "and it might
be just as healthy for you to lower that gun. I ain't here hunting any
trouble, but if it begins I 've got a posse over yonder big enough to
make it mighty interesting. You sabe?"

Old Hicks hesitated, his finger yet hovering about the trigger, his
eyes filled with doubt. There was some mystery in this affair he could
not in the least fathom, but he was obstinate and hard-headed.

"Yes, I know you all right, Mr. Sheriff," he returned, yet speaking
half angrily. "But I don't know what ye 're dippin' inter this yere
affair fer. I haven't any quarrel with you, ner any cause fer one.
But I have with that grinnin' cuss alongside o' yer. I 'll talk with
you all right, but Farnham will either mosey back ter his own den o'
thieves, 'er I 'll blow a hole plumb through him--that's flat. I don't
talk ter his kind."

The sheriff held up one hand, taking a single step forward, his face
grown sternly resolute.

"Mr. Farnham chances to be present as my deputy," he announced gravely.
"I don't know anything about a quarrel between you two men, and I care
less. I 'm here to enforce the law and arrest law-breakers. If you
decide to interfere between me and my duty I 'll know how to act. I
've smelt of the business end of a gun before to-day, and I guess
nobody ever saw Sam Hayes play baby when there was a fight on tap. If
there 's trouble between you and Farnham, have it out, and git done
with it in proper fashion, but just now he 's a sworn officer of the
law, and when you threaten him you threaten all Gulpin County. Do you
manage to digest that fact, Hicks?"

The sturdy old prospector, his face white with rage under the tan,
uncocked his rifle and dropped the butt heavily upon the earth, his
eyes wandering from the face of the sheriff to that of Winston.

"What the hell is it yer want, then?" he asked sullenly. Hayes smiled,
shifting easily so as to rest his weight on one leg.

"Got anybody in your bunch named Winston?" he questioned, "Ned Winston,
mining engineer?"

The younger man started in surprise.

"That is my name," he replied, before Hicks could speak. The sheriff
looked toward him curiously, noting the square jaw, the steady gray
eyes; then he glanced aside at Farnham. The latter nodded carelessly.

"So far, so good. By the same luck, have you a Swede here called Nels
Swanson?"

Hicks shook his head in uncertainty.

"There 's a Swede here, all right, who belongs ter the 'Independence'
gang. I don 't know his name."

"It's Swanson," put in Farnham, cheerfully. "Those are the two birds
you 're after, sheriff."

The latter official, as though fascinated by what he read there, never
ventured to remove his watchfulness from the face of the engineer, yet
he smiled grimly.

"Then I 'll have to trouble you to trot out the Swede, Hicks," he said,
a distinct command in his voice. "After he 's here we 'll get down to
business."

It was fully five minutes before the fellow arrived, his movements slow
and reluctant. From his language, expressing his feelings freely to
Mike and Brown, who were engaged in urging him forward, it was evident
he experienced no ambition to appear in the limelight. The four men
waiting his coming remained motionless, intently watchful of one
another. As the slowly moving Swede finally approached, Hayes ventured
to remove his eyes from Winston just long enough to scan swiftly the
mournful countenance, that single glance revealing to him the character
of the man. The latter gazed uneasily from one face to another, his
mild blue eyes picturing distress, his fingers pulling aimlessly at his
moustache.

"Ay ban yere by you fellers," he confessed sorrowfully, unable to
determine which person it was that wanted him.

"So I see," admitted the sheriff laconically. "Are you Nels Swanson?"

The fellow swallowed something in his throat that seemed to choke him.
This question sounded familiar; it brought back in a rush a
recollection of his late controversy with Mr. O'Brien. His face
flushed, his eyes hardening.

"Ay ban Nels Swanson!" he exploded, beating the air with clenched fist.
"Ay ban Lutheran! Ay ban shovel-man by Meester Burke. Ay get two
tollar saxty cint! Ay not give won tamn for you! Ay lick de fellar
vot ask me dot again!"

The sheriff stared at him, much as he might have examined a new and
peculiar specimen of bug.

"I don't recall having asked you anything about your family history,"
he said quietly, dropping one hand in apparent carelessness on the butt
of his "45." "Your name was all I wanted." He tapped the breast of
his coat suggestively, his gaze returning to Winston.

"Well, gents, we might as well bring this affair to a focus, although
no doubt you two understand the meaning of it pretty well already. I
've got warrants here for the arrest of Winston and Swanson. I hope
neither of you intend to kick up any row."

The white teeth of the young mining engineer set like a trap, his gray
eyes gleaming dangerously beneath frowning brows. Instinctively he
took a quick step forward.

"Warrants?" he exclaimed, breathlessly. "In God's name, for what?"

Hayes tightened his grip on the gun butt, drawing it half from the
sheath, his eyes narrowing.

"For the murder of Jack Burke," he said tersely. "Don't you move,
young man!"

There was a long moment of intense, strained silence, in which the five
men could hear nothing but their own quick breathing. Before Winston
everything grew indistinct, unreal, the faces fronting him a phantasy
of imagination. He felt the fierce throb of his own pulses, a sudden
dull pain shooting through his temples. _Murder_! The terrible word
struck like a blow, appearing to paralyze all his faculties. In front
of him, as if painted, he saw that fierce struggle in the dark, the
limp figure lying huddled among the rocks. _Murder_! Aye, and how
could he prove it otherwise? How could he hope to clear himself from
the foul charge? Even as he yet swayed unsteadily upon his feet, a
hand pressed across his eyes as if shielding them from that horrible
vision, a voice, deep and strident, rang out:

"Mike an' me have got the two cusses covered Mr. Winston. If they
move, or you give us the highball, we 'll plug 'em dead centre!"

CHAPTER XXII

THE INTERVENTION OF SWANSON

Hayes never changed his position, nor removed his eyes from Winston,
his right hand still resting upon the butt of his "45," his lips set in
rigid line. The engineer, the mist partially clearing from his brain,
retained no thought except for Farnham, who remained motionless,
staring over his head into the black, threatening muzzle of Stutter
Brown's levelled gun. These were Western men; they recognized
instantly the potency of "the drop," the absolute certainty of death if
they stirred a muscle. They could only wait, breathless, uncertain,
the next move in this desperate game. To Winston it seemed an hour he
hesitated, his mind a chaos, temptation buffeting him remorselessly.
He saw the sheriff's face set hard, and resolute behind its iron-gray
beard; he marked the reckless sneer curling Farnham's lips, the livid
mark under his eye where he had struck him. The intense hatred he felt
for this man swept across him fiercely, for an instant driving out of
his heart all thought of mercy. As suddenly he remembered the helpless
woman yonder, within easy view, possibly even then upon her knees in
supplication. It was this conception that aroused him. He withdrew
his dull gaze from off that hateful, mocking face, his clenched hands
opening, his mind responding to a new-born will. "Vengeance is mine; I
will repay, saith the Lord"--like an echo, perhaps from the very prayer
her lips were speaking, the solemn words came into his consciousness.
With face white, and lips trembling, he stepped suddenly back, and
flung up one hand.

"Don't fire, boys!" he commanded, his voice ringing clear and
purposeful. "Drop your guns; it's all right. This is my game, and I
intend to play it out alone."

Farnham laughed, the quick reaction possibly affecting even his iron
nerves. Winston whirled and fronted him, the gray eyes blazing.

"Damn you, you sneaking, sneering brute!" he burst forth. "You thief,
you woman-beater, you unspeakable cur! I surrender to the sheriff of
Gulpin County, not to you. I 've got the evidence to send you to the
penitentiary, and I 'll do it, even though I stand myself in the shadow
of death while I bear witness to your infamy. You think this arrest
will shut my mouth! You imagine this will render me harmless! But, by
God, it will not! I 'll fight you until the last breath leaves my
body. I 'll tear you out from the protection of law; I 'll show you
the kind of a man you have stacked up against. I don't know whether
this murder charge is all a trick or not; I don't more than half
believe Jack Burke is dead. But be that as it may, I 'll pull you
down, Biff Farnham, not in any revenge for wrong done me, but to save a
woman whom you know. I 'll do it, damn you, though it cost me my life!"

The sheriff's iron hand fell in restraint upon his shoulder, the burly
body interposed between them.

"You're all right," Hayes said quietly, his eyes pleasantly interested.
"You 've been squar' with me, young fellow, an' I 'm goin' ter be
squar' with you. You kin bet on that. They 'll give you a chance down
below to fight out your quarrel with Farnham."

Winston, his quick rage as instantly fading, drew one hand across his
face, the real danger of his present situation flowing back suddenly to
mind.

"Where do you mean to take us?" he questioned.

"San Juan."

"Right away?"

"Wal, 'bout as soon as we kin git you back ter whar the hosses are,
yonder."

"You promise us protection from that 'Independence' outfit?"

The sheriff nodded decisively.

"Never lost no prisoner yet to a mob," he replied confidently. "I
reckon thar'll be one hell of a fight before I do now. However, you
don't need to worry, young man. On second thought, I 'll have the
hosses brought over here, an' we 'll go down this trail."

Winston glanced about into the faces of Hicks and the Swede. There was
no help forthcoming from either, but he had already reached a definite
decision for himself.

"Very well," he said calmly, "I 'll go with you quietly, sheriff, only
I don't need any hand-cuffing."

"Never use 'em," and Hayes affectionately patted his gun. "I reckon
this yere instrument will do the business all right if any
misunderstandin' should arise atween us goin' down. However, I 'll
trouble yer to discard them weapons for the sake o' peace."

Without a word the engineer unbuckled his belt, tossed it over to
Hicks, and then slowly turned his body about to prove himself entirely
disarmed. Then he smiled, and extended his hand. The sheriff grasped
it cordially.

"There need be no hard feeling between us, Hayes," he said pleasantly.
"You 're only doing your sworn duty; I understand that. But there 's
something rotten in this affair somewhere. All I ask is a square deal."

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