SAND AND 
 CACTUS 
 
 WOLCOTT-LE- CLEAR -BEARD 
 
Sand 
 
 and 
 
 Cactus 
 

 Sand and Cactus 
 
 
 
 By 
 
 Wolcott Le Clear Beard 
 
 
 Charles Scribner s Sons 
 New York $ J $ ^99 
 
 
Copyright, 1899, by 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS 
 
 THE DEV1NNE PRESS. 
 
To 
 
 My Father and Mother 
 
 ss 
 
 M667757 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Bisnaga s Madeline ...... 5 
 
 Specs . . . . 43 
 
 Rouge-et-Noir . . . . . . -75 
 
 Tizzard Castle . . . . . 97 
 
 The Martyrdom of John the Baptist . . . 139 
 
 Liver s Responsibility . . . . . 161 
 
 Station 347 + 57.6 . . . . . .195 
 
 The Wind Wraith 219 
 
 The Salting of the Tio Juan . . . .265 
 
 A Brother to St. James . . . , . 301 
 
BISNAGA S MADELINE 
 
BISNAGA S MADELINE 
 
 IT was down in New Mexico that I first made her 
 acquaintance, where we were building the big res 
 ervoir at Las Conchas. 
 
 Her father, Tim Mullaney by name, was a subcon 
 tractor who had about thirty stations three thousand 
 feet of the levee to put up. A melancholy kind of 
 Irishman was Tim, industrious and well-meaning, 
 but the thickest-headed Celt that ever crossed the 
 water. 
 
 He wouldn t have lasted two days on the work, if 
 it had not been for Nora, his wife, who was as quick 
 to see as well, as Tim wasn t, and that s really say 
 ing a good deal. 
 
 What he had to do was the easiest thing in the 
 world : just earthwork with a little third-class ma 
 sonry here and there; but he never could get any 
 thing right, somehow, and would mix up the simplest 
 instructions unless his wife was by to expound them ; 
 so finally I was the engineer in charge of all that 
 part I would ride down to his camp and explain 
 what I wanted directly to Nora, who would superin- 
 
 3 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 tend Tim, and so things got on very nicely after a 
 while, though they were generally broke $ but that was 
 because Tim would insist on running the treasury 
 end of the outfit. I had thirteen miles of work to 
 cover, and in that dusty, desert country, with the 
 mercury anywhere between a hundred and four and 
 a hundred and twenty in the shade, my daily ride of 
 twenty-six miles was apt to be a bit tedious 5 and as 
 Nora s camp was always the neatest a great thing in 
 that land of flies and the water in her big red ollas 
 much cooler and more refreshing than any one else s, 
 I got into the habit, finally, of making my visit to 
 this camp the last one of the day, and stopping 
 awhile to let my horse rest, as I chatted with Nora and 
 chaffed Madeline. Madeline was ten years old and a 
 small edition of her mother, so her worst enemy could 
 hardly say her beauty amounted to a fault, but a 
 brighter young woman would be very hard to find. 
 She was also her mother s lieutenant, and an able one, 
 too; for while Nora was busy about the camp, and 
 that, of course, was pretty well all the time, Made 
 line would patrol the work. Then if anything went 
 wrong there, those who were to blame would hear 
 from it, and very quickly. 
 
 It was an odd little figure that I used to see canter 
 ing toward me as I walked my horse down the dusty 
 length of the half-finished bank. She always rode 
 astride, with the halter-shank twisted around her 
 pony s jaw in lieu of a bridle, and her saddle was a 
 square of canvas cut from an old tent, ornamented 
 with figures drawn on it in ink, in imitation of those 
 
 4 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 the Indians paint on skins. "She tuk all the ink 
 there was in the commishary for thim there dicora- 
 shuns," her father had told me, and I have no doubt 
 he spoke truly ; but as no one in that camp ever wrote 
 any letters, and kept their one account-book in pencil 
 or didn t keep it at all, just as it happened, it really 
 didn t matter. The pony himself was a curiosity in 
 his way. He couldn t have stood much over eleven 
 hands, and had hair like a goat s. His mane was as 
 shaggy as a Shetland s, and so would his tail have been 
 had not Madeline cut it away in links, so that it looked 
 rather like a telescope. 
 
 Then he seemed, as I remember him, nearly as broad 
 as he was long. This was also owing to his mistress, 
 for she, being exceedingly fond of her steed, and hav 
 ing original ideas about horse-training, persisted in 
 keeping him in the small enclosure of the corral, 
 where all the feed was stored, in order that he might 
 help himself to what he most fancied ; a method which 
 would probably have killed any other horse in the 
 Territory. She had not gained this privilege for Bis- 
 naga (she had called him after the stumpy, shaggy 
 cactus of that name, which he much resembled) with 
 out a struggle, for Lopes, their Mexican corral boss, 
 finding his sense of the fitness of things much out 
 raged by this proceeding, took it upon himself to con 
 sign Bisnaga to the outer darkness of the main corral. 
 Twice he did this, and attempted it a third time j but 
 Madeline was present on this occasion, and finding her 
 remonstrances unheeded, struck him across the face 
 with a mule-whip. He then came toward her, prob- 
 
 5 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 ably to box her ears, so she drew a pistol and cocked it, 
 and he went away. But he always hated her after that. 
 
 To return. On the animal thus caparisoned would 
 sit Madeline, in a calico frock, very clean, a pink sun- 
 bonnet, scarlet stockings, a nd tattered, dusty shoes, 
 almost always without buttons, and held on her feet 
 by a pair of enormous Mexican spurs. These spurs 
 were half the pride of her life. The other half was a 
 much-worn red-silk parasol, proudly held aloft when 
 its owner rode slowly, but when at a more rapid gait 
 was furled and used to wallop the pony with. 
 
 She wore a leather belt around her waist, fastened 
 with a latego instead of a buckle, and in this was 
 stuck the pistol which completed her attire. It was 
 only a target-pistol about eight inches long j a single- 
 barrelled affair, throwing a ball " about the size of a 
 homoeopathic pill," as Mark Twain says ; but, such as 
 it was, Madeline would hold it very straight indeed. 
 
 Thus attired, she would come toward me at a lope, 
 and, making a sort of military salute with her parasol, 
 would venture to hope that " everything is going right 
 the day"; for Madeline was not without a touch, 
 though a slight one, of her parents rich brogue. 
 
 Then riding gravely along by my side, she would 
 answer my questions, and straighten out her father s 
 muddled replies, as we found him, swearing at his 
 scraper-chasers at the end of the dump, and then 
 would scamper back to the camp to let her mother 
 know I was coming. 
 
 I took a fancy to her, and we became great friends. 
 At first, though, all the friendship was on my side, 
 
 6 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 Madeline disapproving of me thoroughly, and on many 
 different counts. To begin with, I was a tenderfoot, 
 as shown by my breeches, boots, and straight spurs, 
 all separate grounds of offence in her eyes. Further 
 more, my flat saddle was a trifling affair, not at all 
 suited to the serious business of life. She thought 
 no one who used such a thing could ride, and I 
 couldn t as she did. Few men could. Also, it had 
 no thongs hanging all over it to tie things on by, and 
 no horn whereby to hold a lassoed steer about all a 
 saddle was good for, anyway. Then my guns were 
 Smith & Wesson s, and not the Colt s to which she was 
 accustomed. These things were surely enough to con 
 demn any one, but I was guilty of far more serious 
 offences. I made fun of Bisnaga and of her affection 
 for him, affecting to be uncertain as to which owned 
 the other. This filled her small soul with rage, and 
 for a while Madeline hated me fervently. She always 
 spoke respectfully to me, for if she had not her mother 
 would have ascertained the reason why by a method 
 with which she was painfully familiar; but when I 
 was sitting sometimes in the thatched eating-shack, 
 she would get behind it into the corral, where, as she 
 couldn t see me, she was not obliged to take official 
 notice of my presence, and then would make cutting 
 remarks in technical language and sarcastic tone con 
 cerning my horse, his conformation and equipments, 
 and occasionally about myself. 
 
 One day, however, as I was riding slowly down the 
 road about a mile from Mullaney s camp, Madeline 
 suddenly went by me like a flash. I had not heard 
 
 7 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 the sound of Bisnaga s little bare hoofs on the soft 
 sand, and neither had my horse, for the vision of a 
 wildly flourished flame-colored parasol made him snort 
 and shy. He wasn t used to being passed, however, 
 so in three jumps was hard on the pony s heels. 
 
 She glanced over her shoulder, and began frantically 
 to work her passage spurs, parasol, and halter-shank 
 all going like mad, leaning well forward and lifting 
 her horse, jockey fashion. I then saw that Madeline 
 was racing with me, and really I never thought so 
 small a pony could go so fast. His little legs looked 
 like a mist under him. Of course he hadn t much of 
 a chance with my long-legged black, so I pulled a bit, 
 gradually, so she wouldn t see it, letting her ride in, 
 a winner by some forty yards. The look of triumph 
 she gave me, as she stopped her panting horse by the 
 corral slip-rails, I wouldn t have missed for anything. 
 This was repeated for the next week or so at frequent 
 intervals, being evidently intended to lower my opinion 
 of my judgment j but having sufficiently humiliated 
 me, Madeline relented visibly, and even became quite 
 affable at times. Then she saw me jump my horse 
 over an arroyo, though I didn t know it until three 
 days later, when she took an opportunity of accom 
 plishing the same feat. Then I learned, on inquiry, 
 that in the intervening time she had put Bisnaga over 
 every ditch he could clear, and tumbled him into those 
 he couldn t, for miles around. This, with the fact that 
 I once killed a jack-rabbit in a manner which met her 
 approval, placed me well in her esteem, and I was 
 correspondingly elated. 
 
 8 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 It was not long after this happy event that I met 
 with an accident. An undermined bank gave way, 
 bringing my horse and me down with it, I under 
 neath, and the horse together with a ton or so of sand 
 on top. It squeezed me somewhat, enough to lay me 
 up with some exceedingly painful injuries, so that I 
 could do nothing but lie on my cot in the shade and 
 watch the buzzards as they lazily wheeled about above 
 me, and wishing the while that I might get something 
 besides bacon and frijoles to eat, and some one to talk 
 to ; for every one was far too busy to attend to me. It 
 was the third day, I think, when I saw a red spot far 
 down the river trail, which, as it slowly approached, 
 developed into Madeline s parasol. I wondered if she 
 was coming to see me, for it wouldn t strike one that 
 visiting the sick was much in her line ; but such was 
 her intention, for Bisnaga s head was turned up the 
 path leading to the thatched veranda where I lay. I 
 saw that he was dressed for the occasion, wearing a 
 bridle with a large brass army bit, and several feathers 
 stuck in his mane. Madeline stopped him, and pulling 
 the reins over his head as an intimation that he was 
 to stop where he stood, came up to my cot. She re 
 plied to my salutations in rather an absent way, and 
 looked at me sternly for some time ; but after a while 
 she said, " Mother thought this might taste good after 
 the beans and hog-meat," putting on the chair by my 
 side a napkin-covered parcel as she spoke. I thanked 
 her as well as her mother for their kindness, but if she 
 heard me she made no sign, so there was a pause after 
 I had finished, until she asked, " How d it come to be ? " 
 
 9 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 I told her, and she considered some time, and then 
 "Bisnaga wouldn t do no such fool thing as that." 
 Anxious to conciliate, I said I was sure of it; but 
 Madeline was above flattery, and only observed : " If 
 he did I d fair frazzle a black-snake out on im." This 
 seemed to exhaust the subject, so I said no more ; but 
 she appeared to be ill at ease as she stood there, with 
 one arm around the cottonwood log which served as 
 a pillar, scratching her right leg with her left spur. 
 Finally, nerving herself for a desperate effort, she 
 straightened up. " Mother says she s sorry you re 
 hurted, and hopes you ll be better soon," said she. 
 Then, scrambling on to her pony s back, she turned 
 him, and shouting back, " And so do I," threw in her 
 spurs and vanished in a cloud of dust. I laughed, but 
 I understood her. Though the sentiment recorded 
 above might be justified by an extreme case, she 
 couldn t stop to listen to a reply in a like vein. That 
 was too much. Undoing the napkin, I found a 
 chicken, beautifully roasted, one of Nora s cherished 
 stock, and it seemed to me that I had never eaten 
 anything so good before. 
 
 Every day, after that, Bisnaga would come slowly up 
 the path, bearing some delicacy, and each time would 
 disappear at his top speed as his small mistress voiced 
 her wish for my recovery. I wanted to make some ac 
 knowledgment to the child for all this, but it was a dif 
 ficult matter to accomplish ; she " didn t want no pay," 
 she said. But she was fond of personal adornment as 
 any other young savage, and through this my oppor 
 tunity came. She was wearing, one day, by way of a 
 
 10 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 necklace, two nickel-plated buckles once part of a pair 
 of suspenders, strung on a buckskin thong instead of 
 a ribbon. A pendant would add finish to this orna 
 ment, I suggested, and ventured to offer to act in that 
 capacity a little gold charm I had : a fish of Mexican 
 workmanship, jointed in many places, so that it would 
 wriggle when touched. She demurred stoutly at first, 
 but the bewitching sqnirm of which the thing was 
 capable, together with my arguments, finally prevailed, 
 and I fastened it between the two buckles with a 
 bit of string, so that it hung, flopping as she moved 
 in a most realistic manner. She really thought a 
 great deal of that fish. Above her parasol, rather, I 
 think it ranked, though somewhat beneath her spurs. 
 Then she began bringing me bits of information 
 and very useful ones sometimes that she gathered, 
 in her journeys back and forth, concerning the work, 
 until at length I was able to go my rounds once 
 more. 
 
 The long, hot summer had fairly burnt itself out; 
 the days were not quite so torrid, and the nights a 
 great deal cooler, when, returning one morning after 
 a week s absence on some temporary duty, I found 
 something out of the common going on in the work. 
 The first camp I came to, Brainard s, was deserted, but 
 the next few were showing a most unaccustomed activ 
 ity. They were working faster, and the bosses were 
 shorter-tempered than was usual. It was the doing 
 of Schultze, the chief contractor, they told me. It 
 seems that he had been much taken with an earth- 
 moving machine he had seen somewhere, a sort of 
 
 I I 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 overgrown scraper pulled by cables, and was desir 
 ous of resuming such subcontracted sections as suited 
 his purpose in order to work them with this arrange 
 ment; therefore they, the subs, were trying to get 
 what they could out of it before the first of the month, 
 when they might be thrown out. It was Mullaney s 
 part, they said, that Schultze was most anxious to re 
 gain, but Tim had some clause in his agreement which 
 made it harder to oust him than the rest, so he had 
 hired Brainard s outfit and was working night and day 
 to hold his contract. I was sorry for all this, Tim be 
 ing rather a favorite of mine in spite of his stupidity ; 
 for, in his way, he would try to stick to the specifica 
 tions and do what he was told, while most of the rest 
 used what brains they had in devising methods by 
 which they could avoid doing so. 
 
 Hurrying through with the work of the other sec 
 tions, I galloped on to Tim s. 
 
 Here was a change indeed. He had trebled his 
 force, and the bank was alive with horses and men. 
 Everything was pressed into the service. Carts and 
 wheelbarrows eked out the scanty supply of scrapers, 
 and even four- and six-horse wagons went groaning 
 down the levee, loaded with the sandy clay. One team 
 was composed of a big gray Percheron horse, a black 
 mule hardly smaller, and two tiny pintos, attached to 
 a Fresno scraper, and driven by a tall Apache, who 
 stalked gravely behind, probably tempted by the high 
 pay to work long enough to enable him to purchase 
 American sardines, rifle-cartridges, canned string- 
 beans, and other things dear to the aboriginal heart. 
 
 12 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 There were three or four Indians and a few white 
 men there, but, as is always the case in that country, 
 the great bulk were Mexicans of mongrel race 
 " greasers." 
 
 All were working feverishly under the profane 
 oratory of the foremen, and working all wrong, too ; 
 for Tim, having had a whole week in which to make 
 mistakes, had embraced the opportunity; but I 
 straightened him out after a while, and rode over to 
 Nora s domain, the camp. The change here was as 
 noticeable as on the dump. The corrals were crowded 
 with tired horses from the night-shift, and the sur 
 rounding chaparral was dotted with the sleeping 
 forms of their Mexican drivers. The little blacksmith 
 shop had acquired a new forge, and both were blazing 
 merrily. The eating-shack was being enlarged, for 
 the pole framework of the extension was in place, and 
 a huge pile of green arrow-weed was being laid on as 
 thatch by two Indians, as it was handed up to them by 
 a third, while close by stood Nora, vociferously super 
 intending. The cottonwood-shaded plaza formed by 
 the camp buildings and tents was filled with Mexicans, 
 chattering, and smoking their crooked brown-paper 
 cigarettes as they considered whether or not they 
 should go to work or rest, after having pretended to 
 labor for half a day or so. 
 
 Nora saw me coming, and walked toward me, wiping 
 her face, heated by her eloquence, as she came. She 
 fairly beamed with pleasure, and the invitation to dis 
 mount and rest was even more cordial than usual. 
 
 " Yes, sorr," she said, in answer to my comments on 
 
 3 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 the turn affairs had taken; " things do be booming 
 now for sure. They have to be. You see, sorr, that 
 we have an oiron conthract with that little Dutch 
 blaggard, an 7 it ses we must put up twenty-foive 
 hoondther thousand yards of dirt befoor the furst of 
 Novimber. l But/ ses he, that s naught but a formality/ 
 ses he/ an if yez goes ahead in a modherate way, sure 
 twill be all right ; but four days gone by, who should 
 roide down the bank but that sem man, an gev a 
 warnin to Tim that he should requoire the turrms of 
 the conthrac carried out as he said. He only wants 
 to get that big slusher in here, what s pulled by a 
 shtring, an pulls down more durt than it can put up. 
 Tim was going to throw everything up, but I w u dn t 
 let him, so I med him borra money on our stock an 
 buy more, an hoire more yet, an greasers an every 
 thing. We ll call the little divil s bluff yet. We re 
 hard put to it for foremen, though. Sure we had to 
 put the store boss on the dump, an so Maddy s run 
 ning the commishary. 7 
 
 She paused to take breath, well pleased, evidently, 
 at the way things were going. There was excitement 
 in this, and contention, so Nora was in her element. 
 They deserved to win, and I hoped they would, but 
 doubted it, for I knew chief contractors are deep and 
 full of guile. I looked in at the door of the little 
 commissary store, though, as I rode back, and saw 
 Madeline, delighted with her new sphere of action, try 
 ing in voluble greaser-Spanish to overcharge a Mex 
 ican teamster for a pair of brogans which didn t fit 
 him, and then set out for the home camp. 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 There didn t seem to be much in my mental prophecy 
 of evil at first. The force was increased day by day, and 
 the long bank grew in a manner wondrous to behold. 
 Tim exhausted his magnificent vocabulary in en 
 deavoring to do justice to the shortcomings of the 
 new foremen, and made more blunders himself than 
 any of them, or, for that matter, than all of them ; for 
 Nora was much too busy to take charge of her hus 
 band and the camp both, as she had formerly done ; 
 so I had to make two visits now, one in the morning 
 to look over what the night-shift had accomplished, 
 and another in the evening to see if anything had 
 been done properly during the day; for Tim took 
 personal charge then. 
 
 For some days after this Nora s smile grew broader 
 and more comprehensive, for Schultze made no at 
 tempt to play his hand no open attempt, that is ; but, 
 somewhat versed in the ways of his kind, I began to 
 see in him the instigator of the petty annoyances that 
 now made themselves felt. Tools were requisitioned 
 on other service ; foremen enticed away or made too 
 drunk to go on duty; commissary and cook-house 
 supplies came irregularly ; Tim s time-checks became 
 hard to cash ; and a thousand and one other things of 
 the same kind, all trivial enough in themselves, met 
 with good nature and overcome in triumph, until at 
 last the supply question began to be serious. 
 
 Neither men nor horses can work without food, and 
 they had come to rather short commons for both, once 
 or twice, so the laborers began to growl and leave. 
 
 Day by day this became worse, and Nora s face grew 
 
 15 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 longer, until in a week the crisis came. I had paid my 
 morning visit, when things were much as usual, though 
 I noticed, as I passed, that Madeline was no longer 
 in the store, there was nothing left to sell, and that 
 the feed-pen inside the big corral was almost empty. 
 Nora said, however, with all her old manner returned, 
 that though they were down pretty well to their last, 
 it would be all right, for a big order of goods had 
 come in that morning from Albuquerque, and three 
 six-horse teams had gone over to fetch them. Schultze 
 had been there, and had offered them terms for their 
 contract which had been refused, I gathered, with con 
 siderable shortness. He had just gone on down the 
 line, so I would probably meet him. I did not, how 
 ever, and it would have done no good if I had, for as 
 the engineers recognized officially only the principal 
 contractor, the disposition said contractor made of 
 the subs under him lay entirely outside our province. 
 His presence was shown by several idle sections down 
 below, and this shortened my work, so that my second 
 visit to Tim s was made much earlier than was com 
 mon. As I approached I saw that the overhanging 
 cloud of dust was missing, and no shouting of foremen 
 or teamsters could I hear, so I knew the smash must 
 have come, and without stopping at the levee I rode 
 into the camp. Here it was lively enough, for the 
 little plaza was covered with bunches of excited Mexi 
 cans, all jabbering at once in some groups, in others 
 listening to the frenzied oratory of some self-appointed 
 leaders as they recapitulated their grievances against 
 the mayordomo (Tim), and counselled instant ven- 
 
 16 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 geance against him and all gringos. Their looks 
 promised evil to all so much so that the knowledge 
 that the horse I rode was able and willing to outrun 
 anything in the county afforded me considerable 
 satisfaction at the time. 
 
 The three saloon-tents outside the camp limits had 
 attracted crowds which reminded one of the flies gath 
 ered around the unwashed tin plates which still stood, 
 from the men s dinner, on the long tables in the newly 
 enlarged shack, in front of which a small knot of 
 Mexicans, with malignant faces and important manner, 
 stood listening to Nora s broken Spanish, as she tried 
 to explain the situation to them, as the representatives 
 of the rest, though without much success, apparently ; 
 for from time to time they would interrupt her fiercely 
 with questions and rattling oaths, when her right hand 
 would twitch nervously toward a bulge in the body of 
 her gown which I had never noticed before. They 
 were too much occupied to notice me until I spoke ; 
 then the Mexicans departed to expound, with gestures 
 and blasphemy, the information they had gathered, 
 and which their attendant brethren eagerly awaited 
 on the plaza. 
 
 Poor Nora! Her nerve was gone now, and she 
 almost broke down as she told me, her brogue richer 
 than ever in her excitement, how the men had just 
 finished eating when the great wagons came rattling 
 back from the little railway-station, fifteen miles away, 
 laden only with a curt note from the supply-dealer to 
 the effect that the goods ordered had been forwarded, 
 and awaited them on cash payment; but owing to 
 
 17 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 unfavorable reports from Mr. Schultze as to their 
 solvency, no credit not even the usual thirty days 
 would be given. This settled matters, for Tim could 
 as easily pay the national debt as to raise the ready 
 money for that grocery bill; so there was nothing 
 left to do but to announce the fact to the assembled 
 men, and abide by the consequences. The white men 
 foremen and mechanics had grumbled a little at 
 the delay ; but as all knew the pay would come, and 
 as work was plenty on the other contracts, they 
 packed their blankets and departed. But with the 
 greasers it was different. They couldn t or wouldn t 
 understand anything ; they wanted payment at once, 
 and threatened all sorts of things in case of its not 
 being immediately forthcoming. Nora stopped long 
 enough to give me a note, which she had nearly for 
 gotten, she said, though it was to have been handed me 
 directly I came ; then she took up her story again, only 
 too glad to have some one to talk to. I read the note ; 
 it was an order from headquarters to return at once, 
 "as fast as your horse will carry you ; stop for nothing." 
 There was no trifling with this, so I started on a 
 gallop for home. I was not used to such orders, 
 even from our imperious old chief, and they troubled 
 me ; so I pushed on still faster, as I wondered what 
 their cause could be. Specks in the road quickly be 
 came men with blanket-rolls over their shoulders, 
 plodding along in the same direction, who hailed me, 
 as I passed, with questions I could not stop to answer. 
 Then wagons ; and as I flashed by I could see that 
 they were loaded with tents, faro and craps lay-outs, 
 
 18 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 and barrels of whiskey, all going to the broken camp 
 as buzzards gather round a newly dead horse ; for idle 
 men would be but too ready to pledge their pay at an 
 enormous discount for " artificial" whiskey, or to lose 
 it at faro or the seductive monte. 
 
 Two of these trains in one mile, five in the next, and 
 I pulled up my winded horse at the office door, and 
 ran into the chiefs sanctum. He was sitting there 
 with his chair tilted back, softly whistling a tune as he 
 gazed placidly into space. I had reported as ordered, I 
 told him. He finished the air he was executing, and 
 observing, " I know it," commenced a new one. " What 
 was wanted ? " I asked. He interrupted his musical per 
 formance this time long enough to say, " Nothing n j 
 then took it up again exactly where he had left off. 
 
 Our superior was apt to be exasperating at times, 
 and this was one of them. My patience was rapidly 
 vanishing, when he roused himself sufficiently to say 
 that if I had stayed in Mullaney s camp I would 
 probably have got hurt, for they were safe, men said, 
 to have a row down there before long ; and though he 
 didn t care much individually, my father was a friend 
 of his, so he would prefer returning me alive if con 
 venient. Tim s estimate had been taken, and the sher 
 iff had been sent for, so there was nothing for us to do 
 but to keep still and endeavor, in our poor way, not to 
 make fools of ourselves. He had talked with Schultze, 
 he added with a chuckle, and the small Teuton had de 
 parted in some haste for the railway-station, intending 
 to return the day after the next with the money. 
 
 In the outer room, where we lesser fry were wont to 
 
 9 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 congregate, I learned fuller particulars. The chief, it 
 seems, had sent for Schultze and remonstrated mildly. 
 But Schultze was obdurate. Mullaney must wait until 
 the 1st of the month, like the rest. Then waxed our 
 chief wroth, speaking in a manner unwelcome to con 
 tractors when coming from chief engineers, and the 
 end of the interview was as has been told. After the 
 hastily taken estimate had been worked out, our Ger 
 man friend had left with barely time to catch his train. 
 " And I ll lay odds," finished Bailey, my informant, a 
 fellow-assistant and an Englishman, "that the little 
 beggar rode three stone lighter when the chief had 
 done with him. My word, though ! I wouldn t have 
 taken that wigging for six months pay. 77 The mes 
 senger sent for the sheriff rode up with the news that 
 this official was absent, but would return that after 
 noon or evening. 
 
 We had left the little office building of gray adobe 
 as we talked, and were now sitting on the edge of the 
 cliff of black basalt overlooking the upper work, we 
 three assistant engineers and the "boys," as the sub 
 ordinates of an engineer corps, irrespective of age, 
 are called, watching the scene below. 
 
 It would seem much as usual to an unaccustomed eye, 
 but we could see differences. The big cable-way was 
 still swinging great masses of rock into foundations 
 of the dam, accompanied by the flicker of red signal- 
 flags and the shouts of the masons working there. 
 The pile-drivers thumped as usual at the ends of the 
 long rows of piling which stretched across the flat 
 bottom of the canon, in the middle of which the river, 
 
 20 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 a mere thread at this season, wound sluggishly along, 
 its channel twisted and doubled by infinitesimal rises 
 and hollows in the hot white gravel through which it 
 ran. Over against the bottom of the cliff, facing the 
 one on which we sat and forming the other side of the 
 mesa, or table-land, which the canon of the river cut 
 in halves, we were excavating for foundations, and all 
 day long the scrapers toiled in endless procession down 
 into the big pit, filling with the powdery sand, then 
 straining up the side of the hill they had made, around 
 its back, and down into the hole again. This proces 
 sion was still there, but its order was very open now, 
 and the horses standing in the corrals showed how 
 many of their drivers were dotting the dusty trail 
 which led to the lower camps. There was idleness 
 there and bad feeling, so there would surely be much 
 drink, and possibly a fight as well a fight with all the 
 odds on their side ; and what Sonora greaser could re 
 sist such a prospect ? Not these, at all events ; and so 
 they had gone, all but a few who were volunteering 
 their help in loading a saloon outfit on a big freight- 
 wagon. 
 
 The kegs of bad whiskey and stone jugs of mescal 
 were already in ; the canvas followed ; a few swarthy 
 women of their own race, their gaudy wrappers mak 
 ing bright spots on the sandy stretch, were piled on 
 top; and the whole finally creaked away down the 
 cactus-outlined road, the attendant crowd laughing 
 and singing as they went. Then the sheriff came by 
 in a swinging gallop, with four deputies at his heels, all 
 following the same path. The sun was going down 
 
 21 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 now, and the whistle of the cable-way engine gave 
 the signal for the end of the day s work. The men 
 began trooping from their pumps and pile-drivers to 
 ward the cook-house. 
 
 We had just risen to go to our own dining-room, 
 when a sound of something scrambling up the face 
 of the mesa made us pause for a moment and then 
 run round the point of rock which hid its cause. 
 It was Madeline on Bisnaga, and both of them nearly 
 at the top of that almost perpendicular cliff, where 
 it would seem that nothing but a goat could go. 
 As we saw them, the little pony attempted to jump 
 up on a ledge of rock from the slope where he was 
 standing. He failed to make it, and slid half-way 
 down the rolling stones on his haunches ; but recover 
 ing himself quickly under the influence of the big 
 spurs, he scrambled up once more, and was gathering 
 for another spring when one of the boys, dropping 
 over the edge of the cliff, caught the young woman 
 bodily off her charger, handing her up to us like a 
 small bale of goods ; while another, taking the pony s 
 head, led him by an easier path to the top. As we set 
 her on her feet, we noticed that there was portent in 
 her attire. She was stripped for action, so to speak, 
 for she had left off both sunbonnet and parasol, while 
 in her belt, balancing her pistol on the other side, hung, 
 in a cowhide sheath of her own manufacture, a good- 
 sized butcher-knife. She had come, she said, with a 
 note to the chief. The greasers were getting ugly 
 now. Lopes, their ex-corral boss, was leading them, 
 and had tried to stop her as she left the camp j but 
 
 22 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 she had ridden hard for the ford leading to Agua 
 Caliente and the down-river settlements, and hid her 
 self and the pony in the dense growth of arrow- weed 
 on the river s edge until they had passed, and then cut 
 across country for our camp. " I didn t dare try the 
 trail up the mesa," she finished ; " I could too easy be 
 stopped there ; so I had to come this way." She looked 
 down with some complacency, as well she might, at the 
 path she had attempted, and so nearly succeeded in 
 scaling. il Here s the note, anyhow. I rode awful hard, 
 and Pm afraid Bisnaga s all killed up." He certainly 
 was " all killed up," for as he stood there with hanging 
 head and his poor little flanks heaving hard, white with 
 sweat, tinged red here and there where cactus thorns 
 or spurs had penetrated, one couldn t ask for a better 
 miniature of a thoroughly played-out horse. 
 
 The chief strolled up to the group, and the note was 
 put into his hands. There were only a few words 
 scrawled in pencil on wrapping-paper, ill spelled and 
 ungrammatical, but very earnest, asking that help 
 might be sent. A few would answer, but with only 
 one white man in the camp " the greasers will surely 
 do us up," adding that he was very respectfully the 
 chief s T. Mullaney. The sheriff had already gone, 
 we told Madeline, she would have met him had she 
 come the regular way, and he could easily hold the 
 Mexicans down, as the speed and accuracy with which 
 he handled that exponent of frontier law Colt s 
 single-action, caliber .45 was well and unfavorably 
 known to them all. 
 
 Words to this effect cheered her somewhat, but she 
 
 23 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 couldn t stay, she said; the "childher" would need 
 her. She must get back now ; she didn t want any 
 supper. Bisnaga couldn t do it again, we urged, but 
 if she would come in and have supper with us, she 
 should see that he was fed to her liking and afterward 
 could have the bay mare to ride, and some of us would 
 go with her. The pony was clearly too much done up 
 to be of any use, and she hesitated, but made no direct 
 reply. " I ll put Bisnaga into the corral myself," she 
 said, and, catching his halter, led him off. When, five 
 minutes later, we went to fetch her, we found the pony 
 placidly enjoying his customary surfeit in our feed- 
 pen, and the bay mare the nucleus of a dusty comet, 
 rapidly growing less, far down the river road. A person 
 fond of her own way was Madeline, and this was char 
 acteristic ; but she could hardly take much harm with 
 the sheriff and his men hard by, so we went in to supper. 
 The cMle-con-carne and the situation of affairs had 
 been duly discussed, when suddenly in the doorway 
 stood the sheriff, his men behind him, eying our table 
 wistfully. " Evenin ," he remarked in his soft Texas 
 dialect, which always reminded me of Bret Harte s 
 stories. " Come down to see if I couldn t get youah 
 men to give us a bite of grub. Been chasin greasah 
 cattle-thieves all the mawnin . Just got back, an had 
 to come down heah. Ain t eat any since six o clock. 
 How s Mullaney s camp? Oh, all right for now. 
 Greasahs wah cookin theah suppuhs. They ll be quiet 
 enough till they get done eatin and gathah moah of a 
 jag. I m goin back when I can get some moah men. 
 Need em befoah mawnin , I reckon." 
 
 24 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 We made room for them at the table, which most of 
 us were ready to leave anyway, and gave orders to Joe, 
 our Chinese cook, and Sing, his mate, to get ready what 
 ever could be quickly prepared. It was extra work for 
 the Celestials, and they didn t like it. It broke their 
 routine. But they knew what happened to Chinamen 
 who trifled with the sheriff, and so soon had food on 
 the table, which seemed very welcome to the half- 
 f amished men who sat down to it. 
 
 We talked it over, a few of us, outside, in consequence 
 of which, seeing that the sheriff was making a most 
 excellent meal, and was presumably therefore in a 
 good humor, I went in and spoke to him. A few of 
 us wanted to see what was going on below, I told him, 
 but we wanted it kept quiet the chief might not like 
 it ; and for that reason he must promise not to let us 
 in for any trial or coroner s jury as witnesses. He 
 was rather a friend of mine, and consented readily 
 enough. Said he : "I won t call on you, but you ll 
 get youah fool hides shot full of holes, like as not." 
 I turned to leave, but he called me back. " If you do 
 have to pull youah guns, don t try to club no one with 
 the barrels. Use em the way God meant em to be 
 used. About belt high. I ll be theah soon. 7 
 
 The point was gained, and communicating the joy 
 ful news to the rest, we set out, on foot j for not only 
 would the whole camp know if we tried to saddle 
 horses, but, though it was six miles by road, the dis 
 tance was reduced to less than half if one walked 
 across the mesa, where no horse could well go, for 
 the table-land jutted out into the river-flat in the 
 
 25 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 shape of a peninsula, and the trail had to double it. 
 It was very dark at first, but after a while the moon 
 came up, lighting a little the narrow path over the 
 bowlder-strewn plain. 
 
 We went in single file, Barton, my rodman, who 
 knew the country like an Indian, at the head as guide, 
 then my instrument-man. I came next, followed by 
 Bailey, who, like most Englishmen, being unable to 
 hit anything with a pistol, had armed himself with 
 one of his many shotguns an eight-bore ducking 
 affair, with twenty buck-shot in each barrel. After 
 him Brown, his rodman, the rear being brought up 
 by the long, shambling form of Smiley, a masonry 
 inspector. He was from Alabama, and also eschewed 
 the prevalent Colt, preferring a pair of double-bar 
 relled derringers, one of which he carried in each 
 side-pocket of his trousers, in order, as he said, that 
 he might, if occasion required, " nail a man through 
 his pants " without wasting time in drawing, such be 
 ing the pleasing custom of the country whence he 
 came. We slowly made our way across the neck of 
 the peninsula, down the steep pass on its farther side, 
 and out on the flat. 
 
 In front of us the levee showed faintly gray against 
 the deep black of the opposite cliff, and turning sharply 
 to the left, we skirted its base, silently, for our foot 
 steps in the yielding sand gave no sound. 
 
 As we went the outline of the bank grew more dis 
 tinct, and finally stood in bold relief against the ruddy 
 glare of a large brush fire, which we could hear crac 
 kling fiercely on its other side. Shrill voices floated 
 
 26 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 over to us, speaking in Spanish, angrily. Then came 
 a sound from the camp hard by, followed by a dead 
 silence ; every voice hushed. We listened, and it came 
 again Tim s brogue, unmistakable even in its ago 
 nized tones. 
 
 " Hands up!" he cried. "Hands up or I ll ah 
 would ye? Drop that rifle! Quick there, stand 
 back ! "" 
 
 We broke into a run over the bank, past the fire, 
 deserted now, around the road into the camp. The 
 little plaza was dark. Even the saloons outside had 
 put out their lights, and Nora s tent alone shone like 
 pearl, as tents do when there is a light inside them. 
 The moon was still low upon the mesa, outlining in 
 black the sujuarro cacti, that stood like giant cande 
 labra along its edge, and throwing the shadow of the 
 cliif far out on the plain below. The tent had the 
 river at its back. The flaps were down, and before 
 them stood Tim, his face white and set, with a Win 
 chester cocked and held at " ready" on his hip. 
 
 A space of forty feet or so, and Lopes stood, while 
 behind him, on the edge of the shadow, were twenty 
 or more of his comrades, all motionless as statues. 
 
 As we came we saw that the ex-corral boss s hands 
 were held high above his head. Taking advantage 
 of the diversion caused by our advent, he dropped them 
 to his sides ; but he made no move to touch the rifle, 
 lying black against the white sand at his feet, for that 
 would have been death. 
 
 The situation explained itself : there was nothing to 
 say, so we all lined up, with Tim in the middle, and 
 
 27 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 stood by. A little stir among the forms, dimly seen 
 in the black shade, then all was still deathly stillness, 
 broken only by the hooting of an owl in the brush that 
 lined the river-banks. The minutes slowly passed. 
 Then a spark winked like a firefly half-way up the 
 mesa j a bullet sung far over our heads. The report 
 echoed faintly from cliff to cliff, and as it died away 
 a coyote somewhere on the plain above began to yelp, 
 answered by the shrill barking of a little dog from one 
 of the tents; then the nerve-racking silence again. 
 Five minutes of it, probably hours it seemed, and I 
 could stand still no longer ; so, shoving back into its 
 holster the pistol I had drawn, I turned and, lifting a 
 flap, looked into the tent. A lantern, hung well up to 
 the ridge-pole in front, so that it would throw no 
 shadow on the walls, lighted the little interior. In a 
 cot standing on one side the two younger children, a 
 boy and a girl of four and three years, lay fast asleep, 
 the elder hugging a hatchet with both arms. On a 
 camp-stool at the bed s head sat Nora. She was cry 
 ing, poor thing, and wiping her eyes with her left 
 hand, while her right held, the butt resting on her 
 knee, one of those sawed-off shotguns affected by ex 
 press-messengers, and so called Wells-Fargos. In 
 front and on the other side of the tent was Madeline, 
 trembling and white, but not crying, though her bare 
 feet worked together nervously. She had just been 
 going to bed, probably, when the danger came, for 
 her frock lay on the floor beside her. In one hand 
 she held her little pistol, a box of its tiny cartridges 
 in the other. As I went in Nora looked up. " Gud 
 
 28 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 avenin , sorr," she gasped between her sobs, and Made 
 line gave me an uncertain kind of smile ; but before I 
 could speak a movement in the crowd outside caused 
 me to drop the canvas and turn back to my place in 
 the line. 
 
 The shadow had receded somewhat now, and many 
 stood in the moonlight. Lopes had stepped backward 
 into the crowd,which was increasing every second one 
 couldn t tell just how, but simply became conscious 
 from time to time that the cluster was extending on 
 both sides and growing deeper. There was under 
 growth on our right, and in its shadow a man stole, 
 crouching, around our flank. Smiley stood there, and 
 his derringer barked hoarsely. The figure disappeared, 
 whether hit or not we never knew. Then a sharp crack 
 from behind, and a man howled and clapped both 
 hands to his thigh. I looked around we all did, I 
 think in time to see Madeline s head and shoulders 
 protruding from under the tent, just before she disap 
 peared suddenly, exactly as though Nora had caught 
 her by the ankles and pulled her back. A young 
 fellow, taking advantage of our divided attention, 
 stooped to pick up the rifle Lopes had dropped. 
 
 Three of us fired at once, and he fell limply, with 
 his breast across the piece which had cost him his life, 
 his sombrero, heavy with silver, rolling almost to our 
 feet. A moment s pause was broken again by a coyote 
 on the desert above, and, as if he had given a signal, 
 was answered by the scratching of a match on the op 
 posite side of the plaza ; then, with a crackle and roar, 
 the dry thatch forming a side of the blacksmith shop 
 
 29 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 blazed up, the roof caught, and all was bright as day 
 in an instant. A man sprang away from the burning 
 shop, and Tim fired at him and missed. 
 
 A shrill yell, such as greasers delight in on every 
 occasion, was raised far back in the crowd, then taken 
 up by them all, and the whole mass surged slowly for 
 ward. Those in front had knives in their hands, or 
 cheap nickel-plated six-shooters of the British bulldog 
 variety, and advanced slowly, without eagerness, but 
 more as if forced forward by those behind them. 
 
 One of our men which one I could not tell cried 
 out to them to halt. A shot answered him, the ball 
 ripping the thigh of the man standing next me ; then a 
 volley crashed from our men as if by command, and I 
 could see a man drop here and there. The wounded 
 man, Barton, had sunk to a sitting posture, and, steady 
 ing himself by passing one arm round my leg, was 
 emptying his pistol at the close-standing band of 
 Mexicans. 
 
 The smoke hung in a low cloud in front of us, and I 
 remember, in a confused sort of way, the brisk rattle 
 of the pistol-shots, twice punctuated by the roar of 
 Bailey s big duck-gun, and of firing into the dense 
 smoke rapidly with both hands. Our opponents 
 stopped, then gave back a little, and the firing slacked 
 somewhat. 
 
 A wandering puff of wind lifted the thickness, show 
 ing a man, with a pistol in his hand, standing ahead of 
 his fellows. I shot at him, and he pitched forward on 
 his hands and knees, then rolled over and lay still. 
 The sight made me sick for one moment, but I forgot 
 
 3 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 it in the next, for, as a warning yell sounded from 
 among them, the crowd scuttled to cover like a flock 
 of frightened quail. For an instant the cause was not 
 apparent ; but a sharp report was followed by the 
 sudden appearance of the sheriff from the thicket- 
 lined road, with twelve men at his back, all riding as 
 fast as their wiry cow-ponies could run. Most of the 
 Mexicans had taken to the chaparral, but a few ran 
 down the road, and, crossing our front, the officers 
 followed these without a sound. A few scattering 
 shots came from the brush, and the horse ridden by 
 one of the deputies reared and fell backward with a 
 scream. The man was up in a second, uncinching his 
 saddle, while Brown and Smiley, running to the corral, 
 caught the mare Madeline had ridden that day, and led 
 her out. She was saddled, mounted, and away while 
 one tells of it. 
 
 The field was clear, and, to my surprise, the dead and 
 wounded were not lying around in bloody heaps, as I 
 expected. Six there were, and our rodman, seven in all. 
 The latter had but a graze, and, when we had bound 
 it up and given him some whiskey, professed himself 
 quite comfortable, and willing to do it all over again. 
 
 The posse had not gone far, and soon returned. The 
 sheriff rode up to where we were standing. 
 
 " You want to get youah wife an the kids away from 
 heah," he said to Tim. " I can t spah no men to guahd 
 this place, an thah s no tellin when them greasahs ll 
 be back with a lot moah from below. Go to the big 
 camp. We ll help you hahness up, but you must get 
 a wiggle on." 
 
 3 1 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Six snorting horses were led out, and the rattling 
 harness thrown across their backs by many willing 
 hands, when Madeline, fully dressed, left the tent 
 and walked over to the corral. She stood looking 
 into the enclosure for a minute, then sat down in a 
 heap on the sand, and, for the first time in my knowl 
 edge of her, commenced to cry. "I haven t got no 
 horse to ride," she wailed. It was only for a moment, 
 though, for she rose, and glancing around severely to 
 see if her weakness had been noticed, she stalked up 
 to the wagon and began helping to pack the things 
 handed into it. Everything was soon ready : the cots, 
 bedding, children, and Nora were bundled in ; Barton 
 was helped to the front seat with Tim ; we followed, 
 finding places anywhere, and the horses started in a 
 canter over the level road toward the home camp. 
 
 We had toiled up a hill at a walk, and had just 
 reached its top, when Tim, with an oath, pulled in 
 his team and set his brake hard. Nora gave a smoth 
 ered howl, and some one started to speak, but checked 
 himself and listened instead. We all heard it then a 
 sound as of many galloping horses, far away, and then 
 a silence, which Tim broke. 
 
 "For good or ill," said he, " they ve crossed the 
 stretch of baked clay, and are on the sand now. They ll 
 come to rock directly. Listen." 
 
 Another moment, and the clang of hoofs was plainly 
 heard. 
 
 "Them horses is shod. The Virgin be praised, 
 they re friends." 
 
 "Amen," responded Nora, with a sigh. 
 
 3 2 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 But Smiley jumped to his feet and, putting both 
 hands to his mouth, gave the cry, well known in that 
 country, from which the tribe of Mexican Indians 
 take their name. "Ya#w/" he called; then again, 
 " Yaqui ! " 
 
 The shrill falsetto of this carries far, like the " coee " 
 of the Australians. 
 
 "Yaqui ! "a third time. 
 
 They heard us now j a chorus came back in answer, 
 and in another few seconds they had rounded the point 
 of the mesa, and streamed toward us in the moonlight, 
 sixty strong. At their head rode the handsome form 
 of " Greaser Pete," saloon-keeper, gambler, reputed 
 stage-robber, and all-round " bad man," yet, withal, a 
 very decent sort of fellow according to his somewhat 
 limited light. He had earned his nickname from his 
 relentless hatred toward the race of which it spoke, and 
 a more congenial mission than his present one could 
 not be found. A mixed lot followed him : mechanics, 
 saloon-men, gamblers, and cow-boys, all were repre 
 sented. Mounted though they were each on the first 
 four-legged thing he could snatch out of the nearest 
 corral, some with saddles but more without, all were 
 heavily armed and were riding fast. Our corral boss 
 was among them, and beside his little white mare 
 Bailey s roan horse and my black, both fully equipped, 
 loped contentedly along. 
 
 They gathered around us with eager questions, put 
 all at once ; but their leader raised his hand to command 
 silence, and having learned in a few words all there 
 was to know, turned to his followers and made what 
 
 33 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 was, for him, a rather lengthy address. " Boys," said 
 he, " it seems we re a little late ; but we may see some 
 fun yet, if we hurry. Vamenos" 
 
 Then, with a yell, the "committee" dashed off, and 
 we started once more for our camp, which we reached 
 without further incident. We saw that the Mullaneys 
 were made comfortable in a tent vacated by a foreman 
 for their use, and having helped Barton to bed, turned 
 to our own, well tired out. 
 
 I had slept about ten minutes, as I thought at the 
 time, when I became dimly conscious that I was not 
 resting easily. I looked up, and saw that it was day 
 light, and that Bailey, half dressed, was shaking me 
 violently by the shoulder. 
 
 "Wake up, man, can t you?" he said, as soon as I 
 was sufficiently awake to understand him. " You re 
 wanted. That child Madeline has gone, and we re 
 afraid something s happened her. Search-parties are 
 going out. The chiefs sending every one." He left 
 me to complete his own toilet ; but I was wide awake 
 now, and, tumbling into my clothes, opened the door, 
 to find Bailey, already mounted, and holding the bridle 
 of one of my horses, impatiently awaiting me. We 
 went slowly to save our stock, for we could not tell 
 how far they might have to travel before they saw 
 their corrals again, and as we jogged along he told 
 me what little he knew of the affair. 
 
 It seemed that when she woke Nora had missed 
 Madeline, and on making inquiry had found that she 
 had been seen by a teamster, feeding his horses half 
 an hour before daybreak, on Bisnaga, cantering to- 
 
 34 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 ward the camp she had left the night before. Tim 
 and another man had gone at once to look for her; 
 but, except that Bisnaga was standing tied to the 
 corral fence, no sign of the child could they find, so 
 they returned and roused the head camp. It was 
 thought that she had returned after something forgot 
 ten in the hurry of leaving, and all feared that she had 
 met with some accident. An object nearing us rap 
 idly, as we talked, we now saw to be a buckboard, 
 driven in a furious gallop by Selwin, one of our in 
 strument-men. 
 
 "Found her?" shouted Bailey, as the team came 
 close enough for him to be heard. 
 
 Selwin nodded. 
 
 "Alive?" 
 
 " Just. Pm going for her mother now." 
 
 The buckboard rushed by, and we pushed on hur 
 riedly. 
 
 A group of men stood around the entrance of the 
 tent. Pete was among them, and the sheriff with 
 some of his posse. "We found her in the brush 
 yonder," one of them was explaining to a new-comer, 
 as we rode up. " Leastways, that little yaller dawg 
 did. Twas a knife that done it, all right enough, 
 with a greaser at the end of it." 
 
 The tent seemed to have grown smaller since I had 
 seen it the night before, as I entered it. It was 
 crowded with men, gathered around a cot standing in 
 the middle of the little space, on which, partly covered 
 with barley-sacks, lay Madeline. Her eyes were closed, 
 and she was breathing heavily. The upper part of her 
 
 35 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 clothing had been cut away, and her body, throat, and 
 right arm were swathed in rude bandages made of 
 bandanna handkerchiefs torn into strips, their white 
 spots in places dyed a uniform color with the ground 
 work. Her left arm lay by her side, the hand tightly 
 clinched. A bucket of reddened water, with a crim 
 soned cloth lying over its edge, stood beside the bed, 
 flanked by a flask of whiskey. On an upturned soap 
 box by the cot s head sat Tim, leaning over and fan 
 ning the child softly with his broad white sombrero. 
 
 " Has she been conscious ? " I asked. 
 
 "No, sorr," he replied, with a catch in his breath, 
 "Just loike this. She med a little moan, like, once, 
 that s all. Shell never tell who done it, I fear." 
 
 One of the men standing near turned and, with a 
 muttered oath, left the tent. The air was stifling in 
 there, and close with the odor of packed humanity ; 
 and seeing Madeline s knife in its cowhide sheath 
 lying on the ground by my feet, I drew it, and, 
 making two long slits in the canvas, opened a trian 
 gular window there. Some one followed suit on the 
 other side, and then the fresh breeze gushed through ; 
 and Tim, dropping his hat, rested his chin on nis 
 hands, and stared hard at the ground between his 
 knees. 
 
 The air seemed to revive Madeline a little, for she 
 moved her left arm and opened her eyes. I was bend 
 ing over her, and as she saw me she smiled faintly and 
 unclasped her hand. It held her necklace the buckles 
 with the little fish I had given her. Then her eyes 
 closed again, and the tin buckles jingled on the 
 
 36 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 ground. A cow-boy who stood near lifted them, re 
 placing them gently in her upturned palm. 
 
 I couldn t stand it any longer, so I left the tent and 
 joined the men outside. I asked the particulars, but 
 there were few to be told. A little dog the same 
 which had answered the coyote the night before had 
 guided them to where she lay in the chaparral, and they 
 had brought her in ; that was all. A man had gone 
 over to the station to wire for a doctor and a priest, but 
 it wasn t likely they would be in time to do any good. 
 
 Some men were beating around through the brush, 
 and one of them now walked quickly toward us. " I 
 found this little gun out yonder/ 7 he said. " It s hers, 
 ain t it?" 
 
 A dozen voices testified to this, and the sheriff, 
 taking it from his hand, threw open the breech and 
 drew out an empty cartridge-shell. " She done her 
 little best," said he, holding it up so all could see. " She 
 surely mahked him, whoevah he was. Find a greasah 
 with a pinhole in him, and we ve nailed the man." 
 
 " You can t tell by that. She got one last night," 
 objected Bailey. 
 
 " That cuss is all right," answered the sheriff. " He 
 had one o those tinwah six-shootahs, so somebody 
 killed him. He didn t do no cuttin ." 
 
 The buckboard had accomplished its mission quickly, 
 and now came rattling up the plaza, the horses a 
 different pair from those we had seen before pant 
 ing and white with sweat. Nora was helped to the 
 ground, and as she entered the tent the men inside 
 filed silently out. 
 
 37 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 We began to organize now. One half of the men, 
 under the sheriff, were to go through the down-river 
 camps, to catch the criminal in case he had attempted 
 to hide himself among his brethren there j the rest, 
 divided into small squads, were to search the country 
 round about. I attached myself to the former party, 
 for, knowing the localities through which we were to 
 go from my daily work, I could be of more use so. It 
 took us a good while until well along in the afternoon 
 to get through this j for the sheriff was very thor 
 ough, and each Mexican we met was put through a most 
 rigid examination. Then, at the very last, we found 
 what we thought was a most promising trail, and fol 
 lowed it, ten of us, while the rest worked on down the 
 river. Straight across the desert it went, we follow 
 ing fast, and finding, at its end, an inoffensive old 
 prospector who, with two burros, was making for the 
 placer-grounds across the Arizona line. Tired and 
 disgusted, Bailey and I tried to get back by a short 
 cut, got lost, and reached our camp at midnight, raven 
 ously hungry and tired out. 
 
 The boys were still up, and had saved some canned 
 corned beef and biscuit for us, and as we ate, in 
 answer to our questions, told us that we were the last 
 of the search-parties to come in except Pete and his 
 men, and no one knew where they had gone. None 
 of the others had found anything. The priest had 
 come in on muleback an hour before. Madeline had 
 rallied a little for a few minutes, just as he reached 
 there, and had tried to speak, but couldn t, though, 
 when they asked her as to her assailant, had turned 
 
 38 
 
Bisnaga s Madeline 
 
 her eyes toward the side of the tent where the corral 
 lay, so they thought that Lopes was the man we 
 wanted. Anyhow, if he was caught we would accept 
 that hypothesis as correct, and run it out on those 
 lines. Didn t we think that was the best way ? We 
 did think so, and made an agreement, on the strength 
 of this additional clew, to try it once more j then going 
 to our quarters, we took off our weapons and spurs, 
 lying down otherwise as we stood, to be ready when 
 morning came. 
 
 We had just fallen into a doze, or at least I had, 
 when a footstep on the veranda aroused me. It was 
 easily recognized as Selwin s, who was lame, and I 
 hailed him. 
 
 "How is the child have you heard?" I asked. 
 
 " She died an hour ago," he replied, and limping to 
 his room, threw himself on his cot, and said no more. 
 
 We were not as early next morning as we had in 
 tended, we were a long time in getting to sleep the 
 night before, and it was nearly nine o clock when we 
 got away. The camp was very still as we rode out 
 from it. Not at all a Sunday stillness, for there 
 were no drunken shouts coming from its saloons, and 
 the voice of the faro-dealer was not heard, but a de 
 pressed sort of silence that could be felt. Prepara 
 tions for the funeral were already under way, for it 
 was to take place at noon. Such things must be done 
 quickly in that country. The little grave was already 
 opened, among the cluster of others, on a rise of ground 
 a few hundred yards away, and two of our boys were 
 lining it with greasewood boughs, as the best substi- 
 
 39 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 tute for evergreen that was to be had, while Selwin 
 was kneeling over a little cross made of heavy timber, 
 on which, with all the skill of a practised draughtsman, 
 he had lettered an inscription, and was now carving it 
 deep into the wood. The sight did not foster kindness 
 of feeling toward the absent Lopes, and we pushed on, 
 making for the nearest ford ; for we meant to try the 
 opposite side of the river to-day as the most likely 
 place to find our man. 
 
 When we reached it, however, we saw, where the 
 water was deepest, a tired horse, drinking as though 
 he would never get enough, while on his back sat 
 Greaser Pete, covered with dust, but wearing on his 
 handsome and rather sad face an expression of the 
 most complete self-satisfaction. He looked up as our 
 horses splashed in. 
 
 " Did you get him ? " I called. 
 
 " I believe they did/ he replied. 
 
 " Lopes?" 
 
 " Yep. Little hole in his arm." 
 
 " Where is he now ? n 
 
 "Can t say. Purgatory, likely, if there is such a 
 place ; if not, he probably went straight through with 
 out stopping." Pete was becoming facetious. This 
 was something new. 
 
 " How did they send him there ? " asked Bailey. 
 
 "Cabled him, I imagine," was the response. 
 
 I looked at his saddle-bow. The lariat that had al 
 ways hung there was missing now, and Pete, follow 
 ing my glance, smiled, and, calling upon his horse, 
 walked out of the river and cantered away. 
 
 40 
 
SPECS 
 
SPECS 
 
 SPECS S advent did not create a favorable impression. 
 It was a frightfully hot day, even for Arizona. 
 The sun seemed fairly to have burnt out all the 
 life in the air. The remolinos, as the Mexicans call the 
 baby whirlwinds which almost always are dancing 
 about over the desert, had stopped to rest. I had 
 been to Sentinel for the mail, and was returning to 
 our construction camp on the Gila, fifteen miles away. 
 
 It was a dismal place enough that I left behind me : 
 just a little collection of stores and saloons, their adobe 
 walls toning in with the desert from which they had 
 sprung; the red-painted railway-station and water- 
 tank alone made spots of color to relieve the gray of 
 the desert, now turned to silver by the glaring sun. 
 
 I had just started, when the sound of hurrying hoofs 
 made me look around. It was Barton, the sheriff, and 
 he was waving his hand in signal. I pulled up. 
 
 " Fraid you ll have to come back an help us out," he 
 said, as he stopped his horse alongside mine. " That 
 Industrial Ahmy detachment of it has rushed the 
 east-bound freight, an it s comin by through heah. 
 
 43 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Got a wiah jus now from Aztec. They ll run ovah 
 the burg like a swahm o Kansas grahsshoppahs if we 
 don t watch out, an we ve got to roun up all han s to 
 keep em on the train. I deputize you. Come back." 
 
 Now, to argue with an Arizona sheriff is unwise. 
 Besides, any change from the monotonous camp life 
 was welcome ; so, turning, we cantered back in com 
 pany. Sentinel had twice been visited by these gangs 
 of men, who, making excuse of a monster labor dem 
 onstration taking place in the East, would capture 
 freight-trains and ride to and fro across the continent, 
 levying contributions of food and drink from the in 
 habitants of the small towns through which they 
 passed. 
 
 The "burg" was excited. The saloons and stores 
 were empty. Their proprietors had closed them, and 
 were preparing to barricade the doors against the 
 in uch-f eared rush before joining their customers, who 
 were standing on the track, gazing westward along its 
 perspective of glittering rails at a black speck, trem 
 bling in the heat-waves which rose from between them. 
 The speck grew larger and more defined. As he ar 
 ranged his men, the sheriff dashed about the place, 
 turning and sprinting on his quick-footed cow-pony, 
 shouting orders arid directions in a voice which not 
 even his excitement could rob of its habitual drawl. 
 
 Then the rails began to snap, and, shrieking against 
 its brakes, the great train reluctantly came to a stand. 
 It was covered with men. They were lying head to 
 feet on the roofs of the box-cars ; they rode clinging 
 to the ladders, astride the brake-beams, along the 
 
 44 
 
Specs 
 
 truss-rods. No available inch of space was left va 
 cant. They had entire possession of the train. The 
 brake-wheels had been turned by men who rose from 
 them for that purpose, and having accomplished it had 
 resumed their seats, while from their caboose in the 
 rear the train s crew looked helplessly on. All told, 
 there were sixteen of us pressed into the sheriff s ser 
 vicefive mounted, the rest on foot. These last 
 patrolled the length of the train, while we on horse 
 back obeyed our leader s order to " herd em like you 
 would a bunch er cattle at night," by riding around 
 the train, two in one direction and three in the other. 
 They were a curious lot, those Industrials. The 
 Southwestern hobo predominated, but his was not 
 the only type. One man wore rusty black clothes of 
 a clerical cut ; several had the gambler s unmistakable 
 air ; some looked like the rustlers they doubtless were ; 
 while others were probably what they all claimed to be 
 working-men. Working-men some were, I know, 
 for they had been employed on the plant of which I 
 had charge, and as I passed them hailed me by name, 
 begging for permission to return to their work, or at 
 least to get water to drink a privilege I had no power 
 to grant. 
 
 The train stopped much longer than was usual, for 
 the local cars could not, under the circumstances, be 
 switched on to the siding. Neither party would have 
 permitted this, even had it otherwise been possible, 
 and the freight had to be unloaded from the cars as 
 they stood. This took time. Also it required men, 
 which lessened the number of guards, so that there 
 
 45 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 were uneasy movements among the packed masses on 
 the tops of the cars, which looked as though an at 
 tempt to descend might follow. Of course anything 
 like a concerted rush on their part would have swept 
 us all aside in an instant ; but that required a leader, 
 who would probably be shot, so no one cared to assume 
 the position, and we were allowed to ride or walk our 
 rounds, assailed by nothing worse than opprobrious 
 epithets. 
 
 On the car next to the last a pair of legs attracted 
 my attention, not so much on account of their ex 
 traordinary length as by the fact that they seemed to 
 have no body belonging to them. The only one in a 
 proper position was utterly unsuited in appearance for 
 association with these lengthy extremities, for it was 
 round, and topped by a broad, plump face, fringed by 
 a scrubby growth of sandy beard. The eyes large, 
 light, and circular glared wildly through a pair of 
 gold-rimmed spectacles lacking a bow, which was 
 replaced by a bit of string looped over one of the 
 wearer s prominent ears. 
 
 The whole expression was one of abject fear. It 
 communicated itself even to the legs before mentioned, 
 and in this way I became conscious of their relation 
 ship. There was no visible reason for this terror. 
 Each time a sentry turned in his walk, or one of the 
 horsemen loped past, this object would shrink back, 
 only to wriggle to the edge of the car as soon as the 
 eyes were turned away. I couldn t make him out. 
 
 I had just rounded the engine as the mounted man 
 ahead of me disappeared behind the caboose, when the 
 
 4 6 
 
Specs 
 
 queer figure launched itself into the air. For an in 
 stant it was outlined against the sky ; then I heard the 
 loud slap of the big feet on a tie of the siding. The 
 long legs stretched themselves into a run, shambling 
 and awkward, but very fast, toward the northwest. 
 
 It really was surprising what time they made ; but 
 as a shot rang out from Barton s pistol, and a little 
 spurt of dust flew up from the desert, this record was 
 nowhere. It was wonderful. I was starting in pur 
 suit, but the sheriffs quick order stopped me, for 
 there was a heave through the prostrate ranks on the 
 train. 
 
 Men rose to their feet. One or two jumped to the 
 ground, and several came out from under the cars. 
 The guards faced around, and at the points of their 
 weapons or by blows from the barrels, they forced the 
 Industrials back. One man drew a pistol and, resting 
 it across a brake- wheel, fired at and missed one of 
 our party, whose " gun " echoed the shot. With a cry, 
 and grasping his arm with his left hand, the assailant 
 sat down, his six-shooter falling on the sand between 
 the cars. By that time the freight had all been trans 
 ferred. The engine coughed, the cars jerked each the 
 other, and the train began to gather way, its passen 
 gers settling themselves into their places as they went. 
 A Mexican standing near picked up the fallen pistol, 
 and, shoving it inside his shirt, scuttled away in fear 
 that some one might claim it. 
 
 " I reckon that s all," said the sheriff, riding along 
 side me. " If youah goin home now, I ll ride along 
 er you " ; so we turned and jogged together down the 
 
 47 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 dusty trail. " Don t seem hahdly faiah to keep them 
 hoboes on th cyahs without no watah, but we couldn t 
 do nothin else, as I kin see. They d rushed us, suah, 
 if we d let em off. They ll feed an watah em at 
 Tucson, like as not. Wondah what that cuss broke 
 away foh, in a country like this? Say, ain t that 
 him? Mus be. They ain t no moah than one man 
 roun heah built tongs fashion like that." 
 
 The road curved about the base of a knoll, and as 
 we rounded it the figure spoken of had come into view. 
 It was the deserter from the Industrials ; there could 
 be no mistaking those legs, or the gait they took, even 
 at that distance. 
 
 " Let s ask him, and find out," I suggested 5 and call 
 ing on his horse, Barton moved toward the fugitive, 
 and I followed. The ponies hoofs fell noiselessly on 
 the sand ; we were close upon him before he heard us 
 and turned. His face grew gray, his mouth twitched, 
 and he trembled. He made a movement as though to 
 run, then thought better of it and threw up his hands. 
 Barton pulled up and stared at him with a look of 
 blank amazement. 
 
 " What you holdin youah hands that-a-way foh ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 He let his arms fall. 
 
 "Wheahyougoin to?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "What you scaiahed at?" 
 
 Still not a word. 
 
 " What did you cut away from your crowd for, and 
 in such a place as this ? " I asked him. 
 
 4 8 
 
Specs 
 
 His goggle eyes turned from the sheriff s face to 
 mine, and for the first time he spoke. 
 
 " Jus 7 reckon twas becus I wanted ter so mighty 
 bad/ he said, in a voice that was almost a whisper ; 
 then, turning, he slouched quickly away. 
 
 The sheriff rode on in silence for a long time. " That 
 chromo was scaiahed stiff," he said at last. " Nevah 
 saw no one moah frightened, but he broke through 
 them guns jus cause he i wanted to so mighty bad. 
 Quee es loco I evah ran agains ." He paused, thought 
 for a while, and added, " Unless he s f akin it all. I ll 
 look out foh him." 
 
 I saw the creature again the next morning, as I was 
 on the way to my work. He was leaning against the 
 cottonwood slip-rails of our corral, surrounded by a 
 group of men, attracted, I suppose, by his peculiar 
 appearance. As I rode by I could hear that they 
 were plying him with questions of a personal nature, 
 the answers to which must have afforded them much 
 diversion, for the crowd was increasing, and from time 
 to time a roar of harsh laughter came over the desert, 
 following me, faint and more faintly, until I passed 
 out of hearing down the trail. 
 
 On my return the camp was ringing with his doings. 
 
 Anything which broke the dead level of our dull life 
 was welcome, so " Specs," as he was promptly chris 
 tened, became at once a feature of the place, his fame 
 reaching even to the engineer s quarters, perched on the 
 edge of the mesa. He was so extraordinarily bashful, 
 we were told, that he hardly dared speak, even in 
 answer to a question. And then, anything would 
 
 49 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 frighten him. A quick word, an unexpected sound, 
 such as a pistol-shot fired behind his back, or before 
 his face, for that matter, would throw him into a " fit 
 of scare" so extravagant that it seemed to parody 
 itself. 
 
 This was most amusing j but, in the opinion of the 
 majority, he had one drawback he would not drink. 
 Gambling was his one vice. Always ready to do any 
 one a good turn, he was fed, in a desultory sort of way, 
 by those whom he obliged ; but what little money he 
 earned always found its way to the coffers of the Cac 
 tus Cottage, by way of the tables topped with green 
 cloth to be found therein. One day he had worked 
 continuously, gaining three dollars thereby. As the 
 whistle sounded for the end of the day s labor, Specs 
 dropped his pick, and hurrying to his foreman, near 
 whom I happened to be standing, he stopped, writhed, 
 and at last managed to ejaculate, " Time- check." 
 
 " Don t be a clam, Specs," replied his chief, good- 
 humoredly. "You jus want this so s you kin steer 
 yourself gains them tin-horns [gamblers] again. 
 You ll only go broke, an then be out of a job. Let 
 it go till pay-day." 
 
 Specs at once began to tremble, opening and clos 
 ing his mouth like a landed fish. 
 
 "Time-check," he gasped "now." 
 
 The printed form, vouching to the fact that Specs 
 was entitled to three dollars in payment for a day s 
 work, was filled out and handed to him. He took it 
 and fled. 
 
 "Goin to get it discounted by that thief at the 
 
 5 
 
Specs 
 
 commissary," said the foreman. " Then he ll blow it 
 in on faro down to the Cactus Cottage damn fool ! " 
 
 I watched Specs enter the little adobe commissary 
 store, then strolled to the grove of giant sujuarro cactus 
 from which the saloon took its name and in the midst 
 of which it stood. Through its canvas walls came the 
 rattle of chips and the droning voice of the dealer. 
 
 Barton, the sheriff, stood in the shade of the thatched 
 veranda. He was generally to be found there. Through 
 the open door the rough bar could be seen. I nodded 
 toward it, and we went in, the sheriff toddling by 
 my side on his three-inch heels. 
 
 "Does he play heahf Specs? That tongs-built 
 galoot 1 No, not often, f oh he don t have the stuff to 
 blow," he said, in reply to a question of mine, as he 
 filled a glass brimful of the malignant whiskey prev 
 alent in that region. " But soon s he gets a couple 
 er nickels he ll float aroun heah to pike em off." He 
 took the contents of his glass at a gulp. "Heah he 
 comes now," Barton went on. " Got a system, some 
 says, but I don t see what it can be, only to back the 
 losin cyahd. Nevah struck the joint yet thout he 
 made a losin ." 
 
 As he spoke Specs came in. He was walking erect 
 now, and rapidly, his round face flushed with excite 
 ment. His three dollars, minus twenty per cent, 
 discount, could purchase but a small supply of the 
 celluloid chips; but he clutched them eagerly, and, 
 going to the faro-table, began to play. I watched him 
 with great interest. The sheriff looked on listlessly j 
 he had seen it all before. 
 
 5 1 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Under the excitement Specs s whole manner changed. 
 He straightened himself, his mouth closed firmly, and 
 the weak china-blue eyes behind the spectacles were 
 fixed on the board with a concentration which I would 
 not have believed possible. But in a very short time 
 it was all over ; I doubt if he won a single stake 5 and 
 even when playing low, two dollars and forty cents will 
 not last long. 
 
 As soon as the last chip was swept into the bank his 
 excitement vanished, and with his usual look of apathy 
 Specs rose and started to leave. 
 
 "Hoi 7 on," Barton called after him. " Have a drink ? " 
 
 Specs only went the faster, and would have passed 
 on, but the other barred the way, asking : 
 
 " What do you want to be such a blame fool f oh 
 as to run gains a game like that ? " 
 
 Specs fumbled at his glasses, unhooking them first 
 and then the string that took the place of the missing 
 bow, and wiped them on the elbow of his flannel shirt. 
 He made his invariable reply. " Keckon twas becus I 
 wanted ter so mighty bad," he said, and shuffled away. 
 
 " He might want a hawse so bad one er these times 
 that he s blaiged to roun up some man s bunch," said 
 the sheriff to me. "Wheels in his haid? Maybe. 
 But he s always doin some fool thing that scaiahs 
 him stiff, jus cause he wants ter so bad that even the 
 scaiah cyan t hold him out. See ? " 
 
 That, indeed, seemed the key-note of Specs s char 
 acter. His desires never led him to take a horse, to be 
 sure, but they made him do many other things. This 
 rather reached a limit when, one day, he was found in 
 
 52 
 
Specs 
 
 a pitiable state of fright, with a stick of No. 1 dyna 
 mite, which he had laid on a bowlder and was just 
 about to pound with a rock held in his hand. 
 
 He was stopped before he could proceed further with 
 his experiment, and on being questioned as to the cause 
 of his amusing himself in so singular a manner, he 
 could give no better reason than his extreme anxiety 
 to ascertain what would happen. 
 
 "Why didn t you fools let 7 im faind out, if he 
 wanted to?" Barton asked the men who had found 
 Specs at his dangerous game. " He was all by his lone 
 some, an nothin couldn t have been huht." 
 
 But, with the exception of the sheriff, the men rather 
 liked Specs, in a contemptuous kind of way. He was 
 so amusing obliging, too ; and harmless, we had all 
 supposed, but now we were harassed with doubts as 
 to that. 
 
 Still, he was allowed to wander about the works, and 
 his life, for a time, was less troubled by his fellows, for 
 his fear-induced antics had lost the attraction of nov 
 elty. Some one had given him the vicious skeleton 
 of a mule, Balaam by name, whose gaits, the donor 
 thought, resembled those of Specs 5 and insecurely 
 perched on the rickety saddle, he would roam over the 
 country, far away from his tormentors. But this 
 peace of mind was too good to last. 
 
 I noticed, one day, as I was approaching the Cactus 
 Cottage, that the attenuated mule was standing de 
 jectedly before its door. Specs came hurrying out of the 
 saloon as I pulled up in front of it, followed by a crowd 
 of grinning men, headed by Hughes, the proprietor. 
 
 53 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " She s a daughter of ould Brainard s, up to Section 
 15, Specs, me boy," Hughes was saying. " Annie, her 
 nem is, an a mighty fine gurrul. I do not wonder 
 that you re interested. Will you give us an invite to 
 the weddin , now, when it comes off ? n 
 
 A shout of laughter interrupted him. Specs had 
 started to unfasten his mule, which was tied to the 
 hitching-rail, but Hughes s hand was on the knot. 
 Probably by way of relieving his embarrassment, 
 Specs stooped and pulled out a cactus thorn which 
 was sticking in the mule s hock. Balaam lashed out 
 viciously. 
 
 " Always look a gift-mule in the mouth, Specs, me 
 son. Tis safer so, fer it s a poor mule what won t 
 wurrk both ways," Hughes went on. "Now, as I was 
 sayin about Annie" 
 
 Specs tore the reins loose, bundled on to the back 
 of his steed, and the brute bucked himself away, dis 
 appearing down the trail. 
 
 I had seen the girl several times the red-cheeked, 
 buxom daughter of a settler on one of the up-river 
 ranches. Though she had been in the place but a 
 short time, she was already the acknowledged belle in 
 that region of few women, and something of a coquette 
 in her way. Specs had seen her in one of his .eques 
 trian wanderings, and had at last managed to gather 
 sufficient courage to inquire of Hughes as to her 
 identity. Hence his flight. 
 
 It was difficult to imagine Specs in the character of 
 a love-sick swain, and no one really thought so until, 
 at last, his conduct showed that this was indeed the 
 
 54 
 
Specs 
 
 case. He never spoke to the girl, so far as was 
 known j only haunted her with the persistence of her 
 shadow. Wherever she went, there he was. A long 
 way behind, always, out of sight, if he could manage 
 it, but there, nevertheless. Each morning, as she 
 lifted the tent-flap that served as the front door of 
 the family dwelling, she would find evidence of his 
 devotion. This would take the form of some service 
 done, or oftener a little offering of game or the red- 
 pulped fruit of the sujuarro, which are esteemed 
 luxuries on account of their inaccessibility. How 
 Specs obtained them, guarded as they are by a dozen 
 yards, perhaps, of sharpest cactus spines, no one could 
 tell. But he managed it somehow, and after placing 
 his gift where she could not help seeing it as she left 
 the shack, he would hide, coyote-like, in the chaparral, 
 surrounding the house enclosure, in order that he 
 might see her as she appeared. Sometimes she would 
 take no notice of his offerings, but would leave them 
 to shrivel in the torrid sun, knowing that some time 
 during the next night the dried remnant would be re 
 placed by another and, if possible, a larger or a varied 
 gift, left in the hope that she might, at last, relent. 
 When, finally, her appetite would triumph over her 
 desire to torture him, he would accept the concession, 
 in all faith, as an evidence of singular favor toward 
 himself, and would become almost bold, for the time, 
 in his intercourse with his fellow-men. 
 
 No one, of course, took the affair seriously. Even 
 Sam Hitchcock, the most favored of Annie s many 
 admirers, refused to be jealous of Specs. But the 
 
 55 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 chaff was unlimited, some of it falling on Annie, so 
 that she became much ashamed of her adorer, and 
 strove, by utter disregard of his existence, to discour 
 age him. Then his life was not a joy to him, and he 
 kept away from all his kind as much as he could ; but 
 his offerings at the shrine of his divinity, though 
 always rejected, never failed in their regularity. 
 
 But another and graver affair was forcing itself on 
 the popular mind. The Apaches were up. They had 
 already left their reservations and were coming down 
 the river. At first there were only rumors of a 
 murder here and there, in isolated cases and far 
 away, but coming nearer and becoming more fre 
 quent as the savages gathered courage from success 
 and force from their more cautious brethren who had 
 hitherto held back. Men hesitated before going out 
 alone. The smoke of burning stacks or ranch-houses 
 had been seen. Finally the word came that a war- 
 party, mounted on good ponies and seventy strong, 
 probably a detachment from a still larger force, had 
 been sighted by cow-boys rounding up their brand on 
 the upper ranges. 
 
 A few of the ranchers who had adobe houses bar 
 ricaded and prepared to hold them ; but, for the most 
 part, leaving their flimsy shacks to the mercy of who 
 ever should come, they sent their families to our camp 
 as the strongest available place. No rush could carry 
 this position ; indeed, there was little danger of any 
 attempt being made, for we were nearly three hun 
 dred strong. 
 
 All regular work had stopped. A breastwork of 
 
 56 
 
Specs 
 
 sand-bags surrounded a little plateau in the centre of 
 our camp, and to strengthen the defence still further, 
 mechanics were connecting some dynamite cartridges, 
 buried in the sand of the plain outside, with the blast 
 ing batteries which were to fire them. A confused 
 mass of household goods littered the enclosed space, 
 where most of the men stood in groups, discussing the 
 outlook. A child was crying, to an accompaniment of 
 women s voices, raised and made querulous by the 
 anxiety of their owners. Over all, through the broil 
 ing heat, floated the choking dust and the smell of 
 horses. Barton rode slowly around the camp, telling 
 off each family as he came to it, in order to make sure 
 that all were present j and I found time to notice, in 
 a vague sort of way, that Specs was shuffling rapidly 
 up and down, muttering to himself, his arms twitching 
 nervously. Each time he met any one at all in author 
 ity, he would stop and seem about to speak j but no one 
 helped him begin, so he would pass on, twitching and 
 muttering as before. 
 
 The sheriff had finished his round, and pulling up 
 his horse, he sat, with a troubled look, facing the group 
 of men near which I was standing. " Brainard s out 
 fit ain t heah," he said. " I don t see wheah they can 
 be at. They stahted to come in, I know. Got to find 
 em can t leave em theah. Which er you boys ll go ? " 
 
 He was looking at me as he spoke. I nodded. I 
 didn t want to go, but I hadn t backbone enough to 
 refuse then. Specs heaved a sigh of relief and disap 
 peared. Sam stood close beside me. "I ll go, of 
 course," he said quietly, and, turning, walked toward 
 
 57 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 his horses. Many volunteered most of them young 
 men and unmarried, but some had wives. Barton 
 may or may not have been right in attributing to this 
 fact their willingness to risk their scalps, but he re 
 fused them, for the twelve men selected were all single. 
 
 The horses were soon ready, and we were mounted, 
 when Specs, on his mule, rode up and joined us. The 
 sheriff started to remonstrate j but, for the first time in 
 my knowledge of him, Specs interrupted. " I m goin ," 
 he said j " I wanter, and I m goin . If you won t let me 
 go along er you, I ll go myself ; but I ll go." 
 
 There was no time to argue. He was unarmed ; but 
 some one thrust a Wells-Fargo into his hand, and gave 
 him a derisive cheer as his mount, more diagram-like 
 than ever, fell in behind us as we settled into a lope 
 along the trail leading to the upper ford. Mile after 
 mile of the road stretched away behind us. The thick 
 dust hung like a curtain at our backs, save when a 
 breath of air would, for an instant, lift it aside, revealing 
 Balaam and his rider, both dust-colored, pounding reso 
 lutely along in our wake, farther and farther behind. 
 
 " The trail takes a tuhn ovah beyond the f ah bank," 
 said Barton, as we splashed through the ford, " an I 
 reckon we ll cut across the loop it makes. It s shawteh, 
 an if any In ians is follerin , maybe we kin take em 
 from behin that way." 
 
 We had stopped to water our horses ; Specs had had 
 time to come up, and was now riding with us, the 
 nose of his mule looking very new and fresh where it 
 had been washed in the process of drinking. But it 
 soon became gray again, like the rest of him. 
 
 58 
 
Specs 
 
 We left the road and struck across the prairie. 
 
 The country became rough : cactus hedges and 
 gnarled mesquit and sage-brush; then arroyos and 
 knolls of volcanic slag to be jumped or scrambled 
 over ; and finally the level plain once more, with the 
 trail, like a white ribbon, in the distance. Barton 
 reached it first. He gave a warning cry, and, turning, 
 rode furiously up the road. 
 
 A glance at the ground showed his reason j for there 
 were wagon-tracks in the wind-blown sand, and, almost 
 obliterating them, the footprints of unshod ponies. We 
 all streamed along behind him, some of us, perhaps, 
 feeling as uncomfortable as I did. The footprints in 
 dicated only a small party, which would surely give 
 before us ; but one could never tell where the rest of 
 the band might be. Furthermore, it is not pleasant 
 to be potted at long range, and this might happen at 
 any time now. 
 
 No one spoke. The thick dust muffled the hoof- 
 beats, and the click of long spur-chains against 
 wooden stirrups, and the undertone of faint, silvery 
 ringing made by the linked ends of the bridle-reins, 
 only served to underline the great silence. 
 
 We were nearing the river again, where it runs 
 through its deep canon of black rock. 
 
 Across the low rise that separated us from it, a little 
 breeze, scarcely felt against the hot air rushing by our 
 faces, brought with it the faint sound of a few drop 
 ping rifle-shots. We pushed on still faster. The 
 whine of a bullet, which made some of us duck, was 
 followed by another report, much closer, and a puff 
 
 59 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 of smoke curled up from behind a bowlder on our 
 right. 
 
 The sheriff reached to the rifle-bucket under his left 
 knee, and we topped the rise. 
 
 A low wall, the relic of some long-forgotten Indian 
 fight, protected the upper end of a broad gully, which, 
 cutting the cliff, led from the mesa-land to the river ; 
 and over the top of this wall peeped the white-canvas 
 tilt of a prairie-schooner. 
 
 This, and the sight of five Indian ponies rapidly 
 getting their owners out of rifle-range, told everything. 
 
 From behind the wall Brainard s gray head appeared. 
 He rested a Winchester on the rock in front of him, 
 and taking careful aim at the retreating savages, fired. 
 An Apache threw up his arms and fell backward on 
 the sand, his pony galloping on, riderless. Two 
 Indians, stooping from their horses, each caught a 
 hand of their fallen comrade, and dragged him 
 quickly out of sight. 
 
 Brainard rose and walked toward us, slipping a 
 fresh shell into his rifle as he came. "I m mighty 
 glad to see you, boys," he said. " Thought you might 
 come. Hoped you would, anyhow. Howdy, Barton ? " 
 He was speaking coolly, but with an effort, and the 
 hand that held the rifle was trembling a little. 
 
 " Have much trouble in stan in em off ? " asked the 
 sheriff. 
 
 "Middlin . That gang rounded us up here this 
 mornin . I knowed this place, an we just made it. 
 Had two rifles, and Annie or th ol woman d load up 
 one while I was pumpin t other. Kep it talkin kinder 
 
 60 
 
Specs 
 
 lively, so I s pose them Apaches had a notion there 
 was several on us. Couldn t have held out much 
 longer, though. Mighty glad you-all s come." 
 
 He had led the way into the little fort as he was 
 speaking, and stopped to close the gap in the wall 
 through which we had passed. 
 
 Mrs. Brainard was standing inside, leaning on the 
 spare rifle ; close by sat Annie, her face hidden in her 
 folded arms. The younger woman stole a glance at 
 Sam, but did not speak. The elder was always a person 
 of few words. " Came jus in time, boys," said she. 
 " Reckon you mus be bout ready for somethin feat." 
 
 Then she set about preparing the meal. 
 
 While we were eating there was considerable dis 
 cussion as to how we should proceed. Barton was for 
 returning at once to the big camp j but Brainard held 
 a different opinion. We could not reach our destina 
 tion, he pointed out, until long after dark, when we 
 might easily be ambushed by our late enemies, even if 
 we did not have a running fight with them all the way 
 home. We could stand them off much better where 
 we were. The debate waxed warm. 
 
 We had all forgotten Specs. Our meal was nearly 
 finished when some one noticed that he was absent; 
 but at the same moment Balaam s head appeared 
 above the breastwork, and his rider, with a sigh, slid out 
 of the saddle and shuffled toward us. Annie looked 
 at him and sneered, then cast a glance at Sam which 
 made him look sheepishly pleased. Some of the men 
 laughed. Specs winced, but paid no further attention 
 to the slight, and going up to the sheriff touched his 
 
 61 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 arm. Barton impatiently threw off the hand, Once 
 more Specs grasped the sheriff s arm, this time retaining 
 his hold, and pointing with the Wells-Fargo, held in the 
 other hand, toward the mountains, blue on the north 
 ern horizon. Every one looked at the point indicated. 
 A haze of smoke, almost invisible, was curling up from 
 the desert, miles away. The arm changed its direction 
 and pointed to another wreath j then to a third ; and 
 finally indicated a column in the west, rising straight 
 in the motionless air, not half a mile from us. 
 
 "I reckon that settles it," said the sheriff, quietly, 
 gazing at the nearest smoke ; " we mus have struck in 
 heah jus at the place they was to gathah, an those 
 foah gangs that s signallin will try an take us in on 
 theah way down the creek." 
 
 " I guess that s right," assented Brainard, looking at 
 his wife. She shuddered, then tried to smile. 
 
 Annie sunk down on the sand and cried hysterically. 
 Sam made a motion as though he would go to her, 
 but probably feeling the ridicule that might follow, 
 thought better of it. 
 
 "No use breakin youah necks wuhkin ," said Bar 
 ton, raising his voice a little. " It s sundown now, an 
 we ve got all night. Besides, theah ain t much to do." 
 
 He was alluding to the fact, well known to us all, 
 that Apaches never attack save at dusk or dawn, and it 
 was nearly dark now. Many of the men lacked faith, 
 I think, in this custom, or feared that the Indians 
 might make an exception in our case; and we all 
 worked feverishly, preparing for the assault which the 
 morning, at the latest, would bring. Every chink 
 
 62 
 
Specs 
 
 through which a bullet might be supposed to find its 
 way was carefully stopped, and sand was banked up 
 on the inside of the wall. 
 
 The work served for a time to occupy our minds, but 
 was finished even before the light faded from the level 
 edge of the desert and the long blue night closed in. 
 
 The fire was carefully extinguished. One man after 
 another went to rest, until all had gone save two : a 
 sentinel sitting in the wagon, and Specs, whose form I 
 could see, from where I lay, outlined against the sky. 
 He was leaning on the wall, looking out over the plain 
 at a waning spark which marked a camp-fire of our 
 enemies. It was long before I slept that night, and 
 the last thing I remembered seeing was that figure by 
 the wall, as motionless as the wall itself. 
 
 Some one shook me by the shoulder, and the sheriff 
 directed me to take my place by the wall then passed 
 softly on to rouse the others. It seemed but a few 
 minutes after I had fallen asleep, yet there was a smell 
 of dawn in the air, and as I gained my post the east 
 turned faintly gray. 
 
 Barton, kneeling against the wall, leaned back, 
 glancing left and right at the men on each side of 
 him. "Theah, in that broken groun yondah," he 
 whispered, resuming his position. " They ll crawl out 
 mos like now to see ? " 
 
 A crouching form stole out from behind a hummock, 
 followed by many others. They appeared to spring 
 out of the desert everywhere, until in an instant a 
 straggling line was formed, which waited for a mo 
 ment, then moved toward us. 
 
 63 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 "Pass the wuhd not to shoot till I do," said our 
 leader, softly, to the men next him. 
 
 The Indians were still a hundred yards away too 
 far to risk a rifle-shot in that light when Barton s 
 order reached the man on my left. Then two flashes 
 of a shotgun burnt holes in the dim light, heavy 
 charges of buckshot tore the sand a few yards in front 
 of the wall, while Specs sank down at its base, in a 
 fit of terror greater than was common even for him. 
 
 A straggling shot or two followed. 
 
 " Fiah ! " shouted the sheriff. 
 
 A rattling crash set the echoes flying down the 
 cliffs, and a blue smoke-cloud tumbled and rolled be 
 fore us, increasing in density as some of the more 
 excitable of the men sprang to their feet and pumped 
 their Winchesters into it. Barton stopped this, for 
 ammunition was too precious to be wasted. 
 
 It seemed as though that cloud would never lift. 
 I caught myself signalling for it to move to one side, 
 as I might to any one who stood in line with a transit 
 through which I might be looking. A few bullets 
 sung overhead or flattened with a splash against the 
 wall. I was somewhat surprised at this, for I had 
 forgotten, for the moment, that the Indians could fire 
 back. 
 
 The smoke eddied, hesitated, and drifted aside. We 
 could see more clearly now in the gathering light, but, 
 with the exception of two prostrate forms on the sand, 
 no Indians were visible. There was little danger of 
 another rush. The Apache is not given to rushing, 
 save when every advantage is on his side, and the sur- 
 
 6 4 
 
Specs 
 
 prise in this case had failed. They knew, however, as 
 well as did we, that our provisions would soon give 
 out, and in the meantime they would watch. 
 
 When any one exposed himself, this was made evi 
 dent by the bullet which was invariably sent in search 
 of him. 
 
 Our only chance lay in getting a message to our 
 camp. They could send us help from there, for, as 
 one of the men observed, as all the Indians in the 
 Territory were besieging us, the big camp obviously 
 must be free from them. Anyway, it was our only 
 chance if chance it was. On three sides we were 
 encompassed by watchful savages ; on the fourth rolled 
 the river, swollen by melted snow from the mountains, 
 and also commanded by the Apache rifles. 
 
 In the opinion of our men, the unpleasant position 
 in which we found ourselves was clearly due to Specs s 
 cowardice in firing prematurely, and so giving warn 
 ing of what otherwise might have been a decisive blow 
 to our enemies. As a vent to the irritation born of 
 their suspense, they told him so, in language and with 
 threats which speedily reduced him to such a state 
 that words had no further effect upon him. 
 
 The question as to whether or not a messenger could 
 live to reach the other camp had been decided in the 
 negative many times as the morning wore on. The 
 sun blazed down with pitiless fervor, and the horses 
 stamped uneasily in their sheltered corral; the men 
 lay gasping with the heat, under anything standing 
 high enough to cast the least shadow on the glaring 
 sand. 
 
 65 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 No one had spoken for some time, when Specs 
 walked quickly to the wagon, from which, after some 
 fumbling, he extracted a large brass kettle. He ex 
 amined it critically. 
 
 "Say, Pm kinder sorry I spoke the poor cuss so 
 rough awhile back," murmured a man lying near ine. 
 " He s locoed worse n ever. Scare did it, I reckon." 
 
 It certainly did seem so, for Specs fitted the pot 
 carefully over his head, took it off and looked it over, 
 then tried it on again. No one cared to interfere with 
 him. We watched him with some curiosity as to what 
 he intended doing. 
 
 The kettle evidently wouldn t do for a helmet, if 
 that was his idea, for he put it down. Then he se 
 lected two large sticks of cottonwood from a pile of 
 drift that had been collected for fuel, and laid them 
 parallel to each other, a foot apart. Inverting the 
 kettle, he placed it on top of the sticks, and bound 
 the whole together with wire from a broken hay-bale. 
 Lifting the contrivance on to one end, he stuck his 
 head in the kettle, so that the sticks rested one on 
 each shoulder. Then he started in a shambling run 
 for the river, down the gully, twenty yards away, and 
 had reached it before any one realized what he was 
 trying to do. We tried to stop him, but it was too 
 late. 
 
 " Come back, you fool ! " some one shouted. " That 
 kittle won t turn no rifle-ball." 
 
 The water, sheltered by the jaws of the little canon, 
 made at this point a pool free from current. Wading 
 out chest deep, Specs lowered his shoulders until the 
 
 66 
 
Specs 
 
 sticks floated, then struck out for the swirling stream 
 beyond. At least, we supposed he did, for the brass 
 pot moved in that direction ; but we could see nothing 
 of the man underneath. The armored cruiser, which 
 had been shaded by the rocky wall, jerked its way 
 beyond the shadow into the blazing sunshine, which 
 made the bright metal glow like a flame. 
 
 There was a yell from above j the Indians had seen 
 it. Two or three rifle-balls splashed in the water close 
 by, and one went fairly through, for we could see 
 the rough edges made by the bullet as it came out. 
 Another grooved the side of the pot and went sing 
 ing away, as a glanced bullet will. Then the current 
 caught the sticks, sweeping them downward out of 
 sight. 
 
 The firing still continued, and the sheriff called us 
 back to the walls. " Them reds might go chasin that 
 man-o -wah, an then we kin get a couple of em, as 
 like as not," he explained. , 
 
 No Indian came in sight, however, and the firing 
 died gradually away. 
 
 We could do nothing- now but wait, whatever 
 Specs s fate might be ; but everything depended on 
 his escape, and his chance of having succeeded was, 
 naturally, our one topic for discussion. He had 
 eleven miles to drift down the river, for it would have 
 been madness for him to try and land on the opposite 
 bank until he had got beyond the stretch where the 
 Indians would dare follow him. 
 
 At least eight of these miles would probably be 
 under fire, and then he might capsize, drown, or a 
 
 6 7 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 hundred other things could happen. It hardly seemed 
 possible that he could live through it. " You cyan t 
 tell, though," said Barton. "Them Indians cyan t 
 tell jus wheah his haid is, undah that kettle. It ll 
 lead em to fiah too high, mos ly. Then, they cyan t 
 tell when it s theah, foh Specs ll prawb ly keep it 
 undah watah all he kin. They ain t no reason why 
 he should steeah himself gains nothin else. It ain t 
 a very gaudy show, maybe j but it s a chance." 
 
 With this we had to content ourselves. Our hope 
 rose and fell and rose again as the sun travelled slowly 
 across the sky, and we lay parching in the little shade 
 which the wall could afford us. 
 
 Six hours passed by. Seven. Suddenly Mrs. Brain- 
 ard rose and held up her hand. "Hear that?" she 
 said, after a pause. We had heard nothing, and said 
 so j but she made an impatient signal that we should 
 be still, and we listened once more. Two or three 
 shots, faint in the distance, came over the desert, fol 
 lowed by the ghost of a cheer. Then the man on 
 guard threw up his hat and yelled. A louder cheer 
 answered him, and in a few moments more our reen- 
 forcements emerged from the dust they made, and 
 were with us. 
 
 The Indians were gone, they said. Not a shot had 
 been fired, except to let us know that help was at 
 hand. 
 
 The smouldering fires passed on the way showed 
 that those who had camped there had not long been 
 gone. They would not return, probably, but it was 
 best to take no chances, and get as soon as possible 
 
 68 
 
Specs 
 
 to the camp. There was no disposition to linger. In 
 an amazingly short time the horses were harnessed or 
 saddled, and the wagon was creaking down the sandy 
 road with its double escort. 
 
 Now, in answer to our many questions, we heard the 
 account of Specs s adventures as known to the lower 
 camp. There was not much to tell. 
 
 Their attention had been attracted by some distant 
 firing, and some Indians were seen, but far out of 
 range. Then, around a bend, the kettle had hove in 
 sight. 
 
 " We couldn t make out what twere, first off," said 
 my informant. " Twas all banged woppy-jawed by 
 them balls holes like one er them tin sieves, an then 
 three or four holes knocked into one. We was kinder 
 uneasy bout you fellers up there, because we heard 
 that the Brainard outfit had gone up Santos Nirios 
 way, an we didn t know where you d got to in chasin 
 it. When we saw that brass olla, we thought maybe 
 there was a message in it. It come down an grounded 
 on a bar in about two foot of water. 
 
 " I rode in an roped it, an dragged it out. I was 
 ashore, an it was in shaller water, an I was snakin 
 it out pretty swift, when somebody yelled for me to 
 go easy. 
 
 "When I looked around, there was Specs s legs 
 a-tailin out behind. The bail of the kettle was hang- 
 in down, and he d got it under his arms. He looked 
 as if he d gone up for sure; but there wasn t ary 
 scratch on him, an he hadn t taken in no water. Jus 
 dead rattled, I reckon. After a while he jerked them 
 
 6 9 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 long arms and legs some, an come to a little. He 
 tried to speak his piece, an after a while we savvied. 
 He kinder coughed it out, shakin all over between- 
 whiles. We left some women pumpin whiskey down 
 him, an 7 lit out up the creek. 
 
 " Say, who d a thought that galoot had so much 
 sand? His stock s up jus now, you betcher boots. 
 Boomin ! " 
 
 While the story was being told to me, several of 
 the men had brought their horses close alongside so 
 that they could listen, and down the line I could see 
 that there were other knots of our people, giving close 
 attention each to its narrator. 
 
 Public opinion had changed concerning Specs j 
 there could be no doubt as to that. From good- 
 natured contempt it had, naturally enough, swung to 
 the opposite extreme. Specs s name was one which 
 had to be treated with respect. This was made plain 
 when Sam crawled into the wagon to bask in the 
 smiles of his inamorata, for by common consent he 
 was sternly haled forth. Specs was not there, and in 
 his absence no unfair advantage of him should be 
 taken. 
 
 The camp was much changed since we had left it, 
 a few hours before. There were fewer people there, 
 and many wagon-tracks led through gaps in the sand 
 bag barricade. Those who remained were, for the 
 most part, making preparations to leave, for the alarm 
 was over. 
 
 By the side of the road taken by our party, under 
 a thatched horse-shelter, stood Specs, tying the ends 
 
 7 o 
 
Specs 
 
 of a bandanna handkerchief which wrapped a small 
 bundle. Several people were speaking to him ear 
 nestly, but his back was toward them, and he returned 
 no answer. An elderly man stepped out and hailed 
 the wagon, which had nearly lumbered past. As it 
 stopped, he went to where the girl was sitting, and 
 held out his hand as though to help her to alight. 
 
 " Thought maybe you d want to thank him fer what 
 he done," said he, as she hesitated. 
 
 Every one stood gravely regarding her as, accepting 
 the proffered aid, she bounced to the ground. 
 
 Specs had turned. Picking up his bundle, he drew 
 a long breath and stepped quickly to where she stood. 
 
 " Twa n t nothing" he said. " I wanted ter do it, 
 an I done it." He stopped for a moment, then added, 
 " I done it fer you." 
 
 He held out his hand, but before she could take 
 it, drew it back, turned, and walked rapidly away, 
 westward, down the old government trail. No one 
 spoke or tried to stop him. His road led over a little 
 rise, and as he reached the top, his awkward figure 
 stood in black relief against the setting sun, then 
 dropped, step by step, out of sight on the other side. 
 
 Drawing herself up, the girl turned to Sam. " He 
 never did have no manners," she said. 
 
 7 1 
 
ROUGE-ET-NOIR 
 
ROUGE-ET-NOIR 
 
 IN the shade of the wickiup on the edge of the little 
 plateau sat Wet Dog, gazing absently over the 
 green valley which lay stretched at his feet. Not 
 at all a good place for a camp, thought the patient 
 squaws who had built it; for it was only a little, 
 gravelly shelf on the parched gray mountain, which 
 allowed the sun to beat full upon it while keeping off 
 what breezes there were. Then, the water must be 
 carried all the way from the river, a hundred yards off 
 horizontally, and as many feet below. But what did 
 Wet Dog care for that ? He did not have to " pack " 
 it ; and, besides, there wasn t much to bring, for they 
 used it only to boil things in. So he had decreed that 
 there the camp should be ; and Wet Dog s word was 
 law. He had reasons of his own liked the view, he 
 said. So the squaws had made many weary journeys 
 up the steep incline, bearing from the flat below arm- 
 fuls of arrow-weed, which they wove into hurdles, 
 securing them, edge to edge, on three sides of a 
 square. Their lord had been impatient during this 
 process, for the sun was hot ; and he had hurried them 
 
 75 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 with grunts, together with sundry pokes. When the 
 walls were up he squatted contentedly in their shadow, 
 and, leaving his womankind to put on the roof more 
 at their leisure, gave himself up to a pleasant reverie. 
 
 A happy retrospect it was, for things had prospered 
 with Wet Dog. In his youth he had been sent to an 
 Indian school under the control of the federal gov 
 ernment, and situated in the East, far away from all 
 degrading aboriginal influences. This is why Wet 
 Dog ran away from it. But he learned much while 
 there learned to speak English, and to read a little, 
 together with many other things appertaining to the 
 lore of the white man, but which are not included in 
 the curriculum of that excellent governmental institu 
 tion. On his return to the reservation, he had sold 
 skins and baskets to the wives of the officers quartered 
 there, and thereby obtained silver coins. This money 
 he had invested in rifle-cartridges, which he bartered 
 with his brethren for the blankets served out to them 
 by a paternal government. These he sold at a profit. 
 So his wealth had grown, and he had become a sub- 
 chief of his tribe and the proprietor of many ponies. 
 One reverse he had met with, to be sure ; but he was 
 not cast down, and turned it to his own advantage. 
 
 It was in this way. Eacing, especially with horses, 
 has always been a favorite sport with the Western 
 Indian. The love of it was strong with Wet Dog, 
 and so was the sentiment of tribal honor. When, for 
 the great semiannual races, the neighboring tribe of 
 Papagos had entered their famous little cream-colored 
 mare, two of Wet Dog s ponies, trained as carefully as 
 
 7 6 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 his nature and knowledge permitted, ran against her, 
 heavily backed. The mare added another victory to 
 her unbroken score, and the Apaches lost heavily in 
 blankets, ponies, and other valuable things. To lose 
 them was bad enough, but that they should have gone 
 to increase the wealth of the Papagos, the natural 
 prey of the Apaches, a tribe that never fought nor 
 killed any one, and so was not esteemed even by the 
 government as worthy of rations, that was addicted 
 to the wearing of hats, cultivation of the soil, and 
 other unnatural and degrading practices, was unbear 
 able $ and even now Wet Dog grew indignant at the 
 thought. 
 
 But Wet Dog was a man of resource, and on the 
 evening of his defeat, having disinterred from under 
 the floor of his residence the Springfield rifle which 
 he had acquired from a deserter, and hidden, together 
 with a bag containing sundry dollars and halves, he 
 rounded up all his ponies a goodly bunch and de 
 parted eastward. At Albuquerque he converted his 
 horses into gold, which only an educated Indian will 
 recognize as money, and boarded an east-bound 
 freight-train. For a while his former haunts knew 
 him not; but when the time for the next race- 
 meeting was nearly arrived, he returned, and on 
 horseback. 
 
 He said nothing concerning his new mount, but 
 nevertheless the tribe turned out in a body to inspect 
 it. They knew the small, lean head with its pointed 
 ears and long, thin neck, for the better run of their 
 own cow-hocked ponies had these j but the well-ribbed 
 
 77 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 barrel, powerful quarters, and thin, flat legs appealed 
 to them with all the force of a novelty, and they mar 
 velled greatly. Even the old Chief of the Three 
 Sections grunted his approval, and called a council for 
 that night, where a tax was voted by acclamation to 
 buy barley for the new-comer, and hay for grass he 
 must not eat. 
 
 Then, the next day, Wet Dog bought a buggy- whip 
 at the post trader s, which he took, together with his 
 eldest son and the horse, to a secluded valley near 
 by, and the training commenced. As the animal 
 stood with the boy on his back, Wet Dog would fire 
 a pistol held in one hand, with the other at the 
 same time bringing the whip sharply across the fore 
 legs of the horse, which would rear and whirl ; another 
 cut over the haunches, and he would spring away in 
 the direction opposite that in which he had been fac 
 ing. Soon the whip became unnecessary, for he would 
 turn and start at the sound of the shot, and the train 
 ing was completed. 
 
 Then the great race-day, when Papagos and Apaches 
 were gathered on opposite sides of the short, straight 
 course, mingling only in the betting-place, where they 
 staked their possessions on the horses which carried 
 the glory of the tribe, as well as nearly all its worldly 
 goods. With what attention they watched the racers 
 as they walked toward the starting-point ! Not that 
 Wet Dog showed any interest in the affair that was 
 proper only for squaws and Papagos and such things. 
 But he felt it. It is a foolish practice, he thought, to 
 post the horses with their tails to the finish. How 
 
 78 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 quickly that mare turned ! Much more readily than 
 Wet Dog s horse. But that was the inherited instinct 
 of the cow-pony. No training could equal that, and, 
 truly, the mare ran fast. The Papagos were howling 
 with joy. But soon their voices lowered, for the long 
 stride of the thoroughbred was telling. The horse 
 closed up ; then his beautiful neck and shoulders ap 
 peared in the lead, and the Apache women broke into 
 delirious shrieks as he won, hard held, by a length. 
 The tribe was embarrassed with riches. Rifles and 
 blankets were plenty, and the cartridges, hitherto 
 treasured, were now used to shoot rabbits. To Wet 
 Dog this was due, so his people honored him. His 
 horses were three where there had before been one, 
 and the bunch grew larger with each successive race, 
 until no Indian would bet against this strange horse 
 from the East. So he had come to Cactus City, where 
 the white men were to hold a fiesta. There were to 
 be races, and therefore wealth would result to him j to 
 his kin as well. 
 
 Far below him the brown Gila crawled between its 
 weed-fringed banks, dividing the two strips of rich 
 pasture-land, the nearer one of which was dotted with 
 the awkwardly moving forms of hobbled ponies. On 
 a little rise, shaded by a cottonwood-tree, the racer 
 was standing, being rubbed down with bunches of 
 grass by two of Wet Dog s squaws. Beyond the other 
 strip of pasture was a spur of the opposite mesa, 
 lower and broader than the one on which Wet Dog s 
 camp was placed, and there the two canvas saloons 
 and the store which constituted Cactus City showed 
 
 79 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 glaringly white against the black basalt cliff as the 
 sun fell full on their gable-ends. 
 
 Three men came out of the larger saloon, the 
 Triangle, and, mounting their horses, rode away down 
 the river. Wet Dog knew them all. " Daddy Gab," 
 the big one, was the proprietor of the Triangle. He 
 had much money, which he would bet, and which, there 
 fore, would accrue to Wet Dog. Another was Greaser 
 Pete, who kept the Black Cat, next door. He also 
 had money. But the chief reflected sadly that with 
 him it was not well for an Indian to have dealings. 
 He was not of a trustful nature, and his suspicions and 
 six-shooter would generally be aroused together. The 
 third was a cow-boy a thing which Wet Dog hated, as 
 an Apache should. The three rounded a point of cliff, 
 and passed at once from Wet Dog s sight and mind ; 
 for his heart was at the place a little up the river, 
 where the course of the morrow was being laid out. 
 
 A few miles below, another horseman was riding up 
 the river trail. The sun had passed the meridian, and 
 the high cliff threw a grateful shade over the road 
 which ran, at this point, half-way up its face : a nar 
 row shadow, for it was barely past noon a shadow 
 just broad enough to cover the slender path, making 
 it appear almost in twilight when contrasted with the 
 brilliant sunlight which lighted up the jagged masses 
 of black rock littering the steep incline that broke 
 down from its outer edge. The day was burning hot, 
 even for Arizona. The horseman who moved slowly 
 up the road did not seem to mind the heat appeared 
 rather to enjoy it. He would have attracted much 
 
 80 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 attention had there been any one there to look at him ; 
 for he was a negro, short of stature and thin of limb, 
 his small, perfectly round body surmounted by a dis 
 proportionately large head, displaying a moon-face of 
 a -blackness seldom seen. Wearing a tall, well-worn 
 silk hat, and clothed in a rusty black suit of clerical 
 cut, the whole figure appeared like a travelling sil 
 houette, the monotone being still further carried out 
 by the black army-saddle and the mare on which it 
 rested. She undoubtedly would have drawn a horse 
 man s attention, even from her rider. She was tall, in 
 that land of ponies, and every line of her lithe body 
 gave evidence of generations of breeding. That she 
 had been long on the road was shown by her dusty 
 coat, but she still snatched at her bit and fretted im 
 patiently at the slow pace set for her by a tiny pack- 
 laden burro that plodded along in front. Every 
 waggle of the donkey s enormous ears seemed to ex 
 press his unalterable determination to go no faster, in 
 spite of the prods and blows administered in measured 
 cadence with a long stick by his master, who thus 
 punctuated his rendering of a revival hymn, which 
 he would interrupt from time to time in order to 
 assail the unfortunate animal with epithets the most 
 abusive his Virginia dialect could shape. 
 
 The trail made a turn and began to descend to the 
 flat. At its foot the mesa divided, opening into a box 
 canon which extended far into the table-land. At its 
 mouth, sitting on their horses, and evidently waiting 
 for some one, were the three men from Cactus City. 
 The song ended in a prolonged whoop, at which the 
 
 81 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 largest of the trio waved his hand ; then, turning, he 
 rode into the caiion, followed by his companions. 
 The incline was steep. The donkey broke into a sham 
 bling trot as the easiest method of gaining the bottom, 
 but was left to his own devices, as the mare was given 
 her head, and in a hand-gallop she followed the other 
 horses. The entrance was screened by a natural 
 hedge of gnarled mesquit, and around the edge of 
 this the negro rode, the flying tails of his long coat 
 giving his mount somewhat the appearance of a 
 shadow of Pegasus bearing a poet of more modern 
 build than those who usually patronized that classic 
 beast. The men had dismounted, and stood in a row 
 as he came up, looking at him in some astonishment. 
 
 " Are you the man we want ? " asked one, a small 
 man with a handsome, hard face. 
 
 " Yassah," replied the gentleman addressed. " Clay 
 Randolph, suh, the Reverend Clay Randolph. Would 
 ? a been soonah but foh Balaam. He got contrairy. 
 Dey is dat-a-way, mos ly. Heah he comes now, lak 
 he s got all nex week. Ain t got no ambition, nohow." 
 
 "Never mind that now," said one of the others. 
 " Twas I that sent f er you. Gabriel, me nem is, from 
 the Triangle, above. It s the boss of a gang of 
 Apaches that s got a horse that s fair cleaned out the 
 country, and fer the good of his soul he must be skun. 
 Bad. Can ye do it, d ye think ? " 
 
 "Kin she do it? Dat mah ll lick dis Ter tory. 
 Brought her f um de ol place, an I se gwine ride her 
 myself. Ain t rid no races sence I begun preachin , 
 but I ain f o got de way." 
 
 82 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 He seemed particularly un jockey-like as he stood, 
 hat in hand, rubbing the top of his polished, bald 
 head with a big red bandanna handkerchief; and the 
 others looked doubtful, while the Reverend Randolph 
 shuffled uneasily, rubbing his head harder than ever 
 in his embarrassment. 
 
 "Ye re sure, then?" said Gabriel, at last. "Sure 
 you d best be, f er it s our money as well as yer carcass 
 the mare ll carry." 
 
 "Yassah, jes so," replied the negro, relieved. "I 
 don ride races no mo , an I don bet. Considah it 
 inconsistant wiv my puhfession. But foh de present 
 occasion, suh, I d be glad ef you could get a bet wiv 
 dat Indian, an put dis on foh me," taking, as he 
 spoke, a heavy buckskin bag from his pocket. " Don 
 bet wiv no white man. Dat s sinful. But an Indian s 
 one of de los tribes, an mus be luhned not to steer 
 heself gains de gospel." 
 
 Gabriel slapped him on the back, laughing and 
 agreeing volubly; but his companion only smiled. 
 He was a taciturn man. " We d better go, Gabe," he 
 said. 
 
 "Faith, we had," responded the other. "They 
 might miss us. Ye ll stop here, yer rev rince, fer 
 now. It is best the mare should not be seen. After 
 dark, Sam, here, will show you the way. So long." 
 
 He swung himself on his horse, and was about to 
 ride away when the darky stopped him. 
 
 " Scuse me, suh, one moment," he said. "Should 
 you have occasion to speak of me in public, kin ly call 
 me Jones, suh, John Jones, widout no Reveren . It s 
 
 83 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 on account of de oP wo of Mrs. Randolph, suh. 
 Women don understan dese affaiahs, an ; it s as well 
 she shouldn know erbout it. Good day, suh." 
 
 The morning of the fiesta broke clear and hot, as is 
 the habit of mornings in that country, and that por 
 tion of Cactus City that had been in bed rose with the 
 dawn to finish the preparations. The Triangle and 
 the Black Cat were swept and garnished j the quarters 
 of beef which had been slowly roasting over the great 
 trenches of mesquit coals were turned for the last 
 time by the smoke-grimed cooks, who then gave place 
 to those who came to relieve them, and, after refresh 
 ing themselves at the Triangle bar, went off to get 
 some needed sleep before arraying their persons for 
 the festivities. 
 
 Soon the spectators began to arrive. On horseback 
 and on foot, from far up and down the river, they 
 came. Great four- or six-horse wagons came creaking 
 in along the sandy road, some of them containing 
 women, the wives or daughters of the ranchers. 
 Already the men had crowded to suffocation the big 
 saloons, where extra hands were busily employed in 
 shoving the black bottles and thick-bottomed glasses 
 along the bar, from one to another of the crowd of 
 customers who rested their elbows on it, disturb 
 ing the swarms of flies which were feasting on the 
 smears made by the wet bottoms of the overfilled 
 tumblers. 
 
 Outside, knots of men stood about, talking or un- 
 cinching their saddles. Many cow-boys there were, 
 with their leather leggings and big, belled spurs; 
 
 8 4 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 vaqueros, dressed in tight-fitting trousers and short 
 jackets of copper red, their broad-brimmed, peaked- 
 crowned sombreros heavy with a year s wages in 
 silver. Prospectors, hoboes, ranchers, and all classes 
 that go to make up the sum of frontier humanity, 
 were represented all except the saloon man. He 
 was busy inside. 
 
 The sports began. Chicken-pulling, shooting, and 
 rough-riding followed one another, but few took much 
 interest in them. Even the roping-match, generally 
 the principal event in these fiestas, attracted but little 
 attention. Every one was waiting for the race. The 
 Apache wonder was well known, and the possibilities 
 of a dark winner had been talked of far and near. 
 
 A quarter of a mile below the settlement a course 
 had been laid out. Though still short, it was longer 
 than those generally used in that country, and was a 
 curved one instead of the usual straightaway, in order 
 that those who chose might ride down the chord of the 
 arc and thus have an opportunity of seeing something 
 of the whole race. Close by the ranging-poles which 
 showed where the finish was to be, a large tent had 
 been pitched, and around this stood a few white men ; 
 but the vast majority of the crowd which swarmed the 
 course from end to end were Indians Indians of all 
 degrees and from many tribes. Moquis, Maricopas, 
 and Yavapais mingled freely with the Papagos, who 
 wore the hats which were the scorn of their warlike 
 neighbors, and talked together in garrulous groups. 
 Among them stalked the Apaches, alone in the crowd, 
 while the squaws, sitting in groups by themselves, 
 
 85 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 showed their budding civilization by criticising their 
 sisters of the other clans. 
 
 From the clearing in the thicket near the start, 
 where his horse had been taken, rode Wet Dog, study 
 ing the course for the hundredth time. This was his 
 first race against the whites, and he meant to take 
 no unnecessary chances, though, in truth, everything 
 seemed going his way j for the course was a long one, 
 and did not his horse show to the best advantage 
 where his long stride could tell? Further, it had 
 been asked of Wet Dog as a favor that the horses 
 should stand facing the finish instead of pointing the 
 other way and having to turn at the start, as the cus 
 tom was ; and as a favor he had granted it, but he 
 would rather have given his second-best horse the 
 one he was riding than not to have had it so. Then, 
 the night before, a panther had sprung on a colt, and 
 had been shot by one of Wet Dog s sons ; there could 
 be no more fortunate omen than this, as every one 
 knows. The horse of the white man must be in that 
 tent. But why thus house the beast I he wondered, and 
 sent his second son to find out ; and the boy wriggled 
 through the undergrowth in a manner really creditable 
 to his training, but before he could raise the canvas to 
 look inside, the heavy lash of a stock-whip had fallen 
 across his back, raising a purple welt on the bronze 
 skin. Still, it did not matter. 
 
 From the plaza of Cactus City, with a whoop, came 
 a mob of horsemen, followed by men and women on 
 foot, for the other sports were now ended. The after 
 noon was wearing on. The first races were quickly 
 
 86 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 run; then Indians and whites gathered about an 
 open spot opposite the tent near the finish, forming 
 a living ring around it. Into the middle of this space 
 strode Wet Dog, followed by a squaw leading three 
 ponies, their manes and tails gay with feathers. 
 
 At her lord s feet she drove a picket-pin, and 
 securing the neck-ropes to it, retired. This signified 
 that they were offered in wager, and a tall Papago 
 placed a saddle by the pin ; but Wet Dog regarded it 
 scornfully. A bit was added, then some rifle-car 
 tridges ; and the Apache bowed in token of acceptance, 
 moving away, and signalling with his hand for more 
 horses. Other ventures were offered, and soon the 
 betting became fast and heavy, even white men stak 
 ing silver against the ponies or Navajo blankets ; and 
 all without a word, save when the whites bet among 
 themselves. 
 
 When nearly all the movable property of those 
 present had been wagered, they turned to the course, 
 where the hope of the Apaches, his chestnut coat shin 
 ing in the sun, was slowly led up and down. He wore 
 a bridle instead of the single rein tied around the 
 under jaw that Indians generally affect. Instead of 
 a saddle a piece of cowhide rope was loosely tied around 
 his body, just behind the withers. Wet Dog s son, his 
 entire costume consisting of a very small breech-cloth 
 and a two-tailed whip, sprang on to the horse s back 
 and thrust his knees under the cowhide rope. Both 
 were then ready, and cantered toward the starting- 
 point, followed by an admiring throng. 
 
 Wet Dog sat on his horse near the tent. Its flap was 
 
 87 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 raised, and the black mare led forth by her reverend 
 jockey. That morning Wet Dog had seen Clay Ran 
 dolph, but now what a change ! As he noted the 
 breeches, tops, and silk jacket, the memory of other 
 races, seen long ago, flashed across the chiefs mind. 
 He observed that the faded purple-and-yellow blouse 
 was wofully tight for its wearer, and had been clum 
 sily let out at the waist, so that the weight would be 
 to his disadvantage ; but still the course was not long, 
 and Wet Dog was harassed with doubts : for this cos 
 tume was of the fashion of the East, where they know 
 how. Many horsemen accompanied the stranger as he 
 walked to the start. The Apache joined them, but 
 stopped two thirds of the way up the course and waited 
 for the starting shot. Many things are thus started 
 in Arizona. Some are ended so. At length it came, 
 followed by a yell and the thunder of galloping hoofs, 
 as the spectators pelted along the shorter path. 
 
 Wet Dog turned and cantered slowly back, looking 
 over his shoulder. As the horses flashed into view his 
 hand twitched once, for he could see that the chestnut 
 was leading. Wet Dog s son, on the racer s back, 
 gripping from thigh to ankle-joint, leaned forward 
 with reins flying slack, and, urged by the sting of the 
 double-lashed quirt, his mount was doing its utmost. 
 Close behind strode the black mare, her chin on her 
 breast, her rider sitting well back in the tiny saddle, 
 which he more than filled. Could it be that the black 
 was gaining? Yes, she was gaining even with the 
 jockey s weight on her bit ; and Wet Dog pushed his 
 pony into a run as the racers flew past. He could 
 
 88 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 just see the poles of the finish now, with their back 
 ground of faces, red, white, and yellow. As they 
 neared the end, the horses came between him and the 
 finish, and the dust screened them from his sight. 
 The shouts which rang over the flat told him that the 
 race was over, and that he had lost j so, without draw 
 ing rein, he turned away from the course and, crossing 
 the river, made his way to the wickiup on the shelf of 
 the mesa, and sat down in its shade, his head resting 
 on his folded arms. 
 
 The squaws and his sons came, but departed ; it was 
 not well to disturb him then. The racer was fed and 
 cared for, and the remaining ponies were hobbled and 
 turned out to graze. Food was cooked, and the young 
 est squaw, taking her lord s portion, crept timidly up 
 to where he sat. His head was raised now, and as 
 cheerful an expression as his dignity would allow 
 played over his features. He ate the food, and then 
 called his sons, who sat at his feet as he talked to them 
 far into the night. 
 
 Looking across the river, he could see that Cactus 
 City was rejoicing. The canvas walls of the saloons, 
 lighted from within, the camp-fires of the Indians and 
 Mexicans, and the yells of the revellers, vaguely re 
 called to his mind the transparencies and torches of a 
 political parade and the shouting crowds on the side 
 walks where Wet Dog had stood in his school-days, 
 years before. 
 
 The canvas houses continued their pearl-like glow ; 
 but one by one the fires faded to dull-red spots in the 
 darkness, and the shouts grew fainter and finally 
 
 8 9 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 ceased. Then, followed by their sire, the two boys 
 departed into the gloom of the cliff-shadowed flat of 
 the river. The crescent of the new moon climbed 
 over the mesa opposite, filtering a faint light on the 
 yellow sands below. 
 
 At the foot of the precipice, a hole a yard or so in 
 diameter led into a fissure in the rock. In front of 
 this hole, and facing it, knelt Wet Dog. On a piece 
 of board before him lay the severed legs of the panther 
 shot the night before, and he was taking them, one 
 after the other, and printing their feet in the sand, 
 then, shuffling backward, carefully obliterating, with 
 the flat side of the board, the marks of his knees, and 
 repeating the operation until the footprints reached 
 the thick weeds which grew by the river. Then he 
 gathered up his properties and vanished. 
 
 It was just at daybreak, and Cactus City was in its 
 soundest sleep. The tents showed a ghastly gray in 
 the gathering light, and the red eyes of the camp-fires 
 had long since closed, when the black figures of men 
 and horses silently crossed the ford. The camp of 
 Wet Dog and his friends was breaking. They waited 
 awhile until the squaws joined them, and all moved 
 westward along the trail, save a few who, detaching 
 themselves, rode toward the cliff. This was just the 
 hour invariably chosen by the Apaches for their at 
 tacks, so when a chorus of shrill yells rent the air, to 
 an accompaniment of dropping rifle-shots, Cactus City 
 was roused in a moment. Men started from their 
 blankets around the ashes of their dead fires, clutch 
 ing hastily snatched weapons ; they came pouring from 
 
 9 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 the saloons and corrals, only to see an excited group 
 of Indians pointing from the ground to the hole in 
 the cliff, and talking together in apparent alarm 
 Evidently no attack was intended, so they left the 
 rocks and knolls behind which they had sought 
 shelter from the expected fire, and joining the ab 
 sorbed group of aborigines, inquired as to the cause of 
 the excitement. It was an animal, they were told, 
 something like a panther, but larger much larger 
 and with long legs, so that it moved with exceeding 
 swiftness. It had struck down a squaw and killed her. 
 When they had fired, it had not minded the shots, but 
 had struck down another squaw, then carried its first 
 victim away with it. They had followed the tracks 
 thus far, but now they were afraid to go farther. 
 They, the Apaches, were afraid. The beast was not 
 natural. 
 
 Greaser Pete had been among the first to arrive, and 
 was now examining the tracks critically. "What s 
 wrong with you fools, anyway?" he asked. " Leery 
 of a puma say?" 
 
 It was not a puma, they insisted. Somewhat like 
 one, to be sure, but bigger and more fierce, behaving 
 in such a manner that their hearts became as the heart 
 of a squaw. If any one disbelieved, there was the den : 
 it was at home ; and if it was a panther it might be 
 shot. But no Indian would try it. 
 
 Then spake Wet Dog. The white men said that 
 this was a puma. Very good. He, Wet Dog, said that 
 it was not. If any man was foolish enough to prove 
 what it was, he, Wet Dog, would back his opinion 
 
 91 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 with a wager. He waved his hand, and one of the 
 squaws led out the Apache racer, dropping the picket- 
 pin into the ground and pressing it home with her 
 substantial foot. 
 
 Men looked askance at this. There must be a trick 
 somewhere the stakes were too high. Wet Dog, as 
 they well knew, valued this horse more than the whole 
 of his other possessions, squaws and all. It was a 
 temptation, however, and several hesitated, until, at 
 last, the Reverend Randolph stepped out of the shadow, 
 placing at the chief s feet a canvas shot-bag, partially 
 filled. 
 
 " Oar s de dust/ he observed. " Does she go ? " 
 
 Wet Dog stooped and lifted the bag. It weighed 
 well, and he was glad, for of all men he would rather 
 despoil this one ; and he signified that the wager held. 
 
 But who was to carry out its terms? Not the 
 Indians, for they had specifically declined doing so j 
 and the reverend jockey seemed to have little inclina 
 tion in that direction ; so there was a pause of some 
 seconds, broken by Pete. 
 
 " Stand by to help, boys, if I don t kill," he said ; 
 and, turning, he walked toward the cave. 
 
 The Indians drew away, except the squaw, who still 
 stood by the horse s head. In his hand Pete held a 
 shotgun of the kind used by express-messengers, with 
 sawed-off barrels and heavy charges of buckshot in 
 them. It was pitch-dark inside the cave, and Pete 
 edged his way carefully, seeing nothing until the 
 passage took a turn. Then, beyond, glowed two 
 spots of dull-green flame. They were the eyes of the 
 
 92 
 
Rouge-et-Noir 
 
 beast. The Wells-Fargo burnt a red hole in the dark 
 ness, and the echoing walls gave back a crash like 
 thunder. Then another shot, and Pete backed into 
 the open, coughing and choking from the sulphurous 
 fumes. He caught a breath of fresh air, and, drop 
 ping the shotgun, drew a pistol and dove into the 
 black hole once more. 
 
 " Is it a puma, Pete ? " some one asked at length. It 
 was not. Pete s answer was lengthy and hyperbolic, 
 but on that point it was quite clear ; and the squaw, 
 catching up the precious bag, which she thrust into 
 her bosom, bundled on to the wagered horse, and 
 lashing him furiously, followed her companions. 
 
 Then once more Pete s voice was heard from inside 
 the cave, raised in earnest profanity, which grew 
 louder and more distinct until Pete appeared in the 
 opening, his six-shooter in one hand, and in the other 
 the bloody remains of a large black cat of the domestic 
 variety. 
 
 It was Tom, Tom, the sign and totem of the Black 
 Cat saloon, Pete s especial pet, and the only tame cat 
 within fifty miles. Around his neck there was a 
 thong, by means of which he had been tied in the 
 cave. Pete s wrath grew greater as he looked, and he 
 became quiet, as was his wont when angry. It was a 
 trick a trick played on him, and by an Indian, who 
 was gone now, and gone with many of his tribe about 
 him; besides, an Indian, more especially one of a 
 tribe that occasionally varies the monotony of reser 
 vation life by the murder of defenceless settlers, one 
 must not shoot, for they draw government rations 
 
 93 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 and are protected by federal laws and officers. A 
 Mexican, however, is different : no one protects him, 
 or wants to ; and Pete looked at the swarthy faces 
 about him for a sign of levity; but more dejected- 
 appearing specimens of the Latin race it would be 
 impossible to find ; so he retired to his saloon, closing 
 the door after him. 
 
 Wet Dog was soon overtaken by the squaw who had 
 been left behind with the horse, and they had ridden 
 on for some time. They were going slowly, for the 
 way was steep. When he beckoned her to him he 
 was rocking in his saddle with silent mirth ; for the 
 Apache, unlike many other Indians, will laugh heartily 
 enough when anything strikes his somewhat peculiar 
 sense of humor, and his dignity allows ; and now he 
 was on exceedingly good terms with himself as his 
 wife, with a dutiful little murmur of joy, handed him 
 the bag. He undid the string and poured part of the 
 contents out in his hand. His face grew dark, for 
 this was not gold, far from it, but little black pel 
 lets, and many of them : about a pound and a half 
 of No. 4 shot. 
 
 Wet Dog was dazed for a moment, but the squaw 
 wailed. This recalled him to himself, and he was im 
 polite enough to throw the handful of shot in her face. 
 Then he rode on, lost in thought. The wisdom of the 
 red man he had been born to ; he had acquired that of 
 the whites; and of the black man he now had seen 
 something : but his heart was heavy within him, and 
 he desired to know no more. 
 
 94 
 
TIZZARD CASTLE 
 
TIZZARD CASTLE 
 
 ILONG the old government road the Yuma mail 
 \ plodded at a shuffling trot. There had been rain 
 -x the day before one of those rare showers that 
 once or twice in the course of a year come to moisten 
 the parched surface of the Arizona desert, across 
 which the trail ran like a white ribbon laid over its 
 desolate brown expanse. Ordinarily the desert also 
 was white ; but the rain had darkened it to a coffee 
 color, dotted with disease-like blotches of a still deeper 
 hue where the water lay in shallow depressions of the 
 clay-mixed sand. 
 
 The trail had dried quickly ; the powdery dust with 
 which it was covered rose in thick clouds from under 
 the hoofs of the horses. It drifted through the 
 windows and settled on the roof of the stage, cover 
 ing the unhappy passengers with a thick, gritty coat 
 ing that turned to mud on their faces, moistened by 
 the stifling heat. 
 
 Beside the sleepy driver the express-messenger 
 nodded. From time to time he would swear gasp 
 ingly, because, as it was yet early morning, the heat 
 
 97 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 would grow worse as the sun rose higher. The 
 capitalist, who sat behind him, at these times would 
 second him with oaths made in Chicago, while the 
 other passengers, a gambler and two prospectors, 
 would murmur a feeble chorus of profane assent. 
 Conversation languished. When the express-mes 
 senger had temporarily exhausted his objurgatory 
 powers there would be an interval of silence, broken 
 only by the faint, rhythmical creak of the thorough- 
 brace and the low rattle of harness, all keeping 
 time to the muffled pad of the sixteen unshod 
 hoofs. 
 
 A little farther along a clump of greenish-gray 
 mesquit swallowed up the trail, and disgorged it on the 
 farther side. The driver languidly straightened him 
 self in his seat. 
 
 " You was talkin awhile back bout that ther* hold 
 up two year ago," he said to the express-messenger. 
 "That s the place where it was right in the middle 
 er that ther clump er mesquit, yander. Twas jus 
 before I come on this run Jim Marlin he was a-drivin 
 that day. Billy Wheeler he was on as messenger; 
 twas his firs trip as messenger, same as this is your n. 
 They done him cold." 
 
 The driver glanced at his companion to note the 
 effect of his announcement. Both the messenger and 
 the passengers were looking at the clump of gnarled 
 and distorted trees with a species of mild interest, but 
 that was all. The driver was disappointed, and with 
 a grunt he settled into himself, as before. 
 
 As they entered the thicket the horses were moved 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 to a trot of a more decided character by the flies, 
 which, disturbed from their rest in the shade, rose in 
 swarms from the surrounding growth. It was not a 
 large thicket. Beyond, in the open, lay the trail, 
 stretching away in the glaring sunlight. 
 
 Suddenly there was a sound of horses crashing 
 through the undergrowth. One of the stage leaders 
 reared and swung against his mate as a man sprang 
 from the undergrowth and caught at his head. In 
 stinctively the driver raised his great whip and laid 
 its stinging thong over the quarters of the forward 
 span. The messenger, startled into sudden life, 
 caught up the Wells-Fargo that lay at his feet. As 
 the horses sprang forward, the man who had caught 
 at their heads was brushed aside, and staggered to the 
 side of the road. His mask was displaced, and as the 
 stage rolled by his face was upturned. Into the face 
 the messenger fired one barrel of his Wells-Fargo, and 
 then it was a face no longer. More men appeared. 
 Two of them caught the lead-horses, and forced them 
 back nearly on to their haunches. Catching his whip 
 in his left hand, the driver snatched a pistol from 
 under the seat-cushion, and fired. There was another 
 roar from the messenger s sawed-off shotgun, and the 
 gambler s derringers barked malignantly. A rattling 
 crash came from the thicket in answer. The two 
 miners, who had thrown up their hands, lowered 
 them, and when they were raised again they held 
 pistols that flashed at short but regular intervals, 
 without either haste or delay. The driver fired again, 
 and vainly tried to raise his pistol for a third shotj 
 
 99 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 then he swayed in his seat, and fell in a huddled heap 
 on the foot-board. 
 
 Leaning forward, the capitalist grasped the reins 
 and whip, plying them with a skill that spoke of 
 practice as the frightened horses broke into a run. 
 A few scattering shots followed the flying stage. One 
 of the miners turned in his seat, raised his pistol and 
 fired. An oath that was two thirds a scream told of 
 the success of his shot, and with a satisfied smile he 
 recharged the six-shooter and returned it to the holster 
 on his hip. 
 
 For a few moments the stage spun on in silence. 
 Looking back, its passengers could see that some of 
 their late assailants had mounted and were urging 
 their horses over the open desert in a course nearly 
 parallel to that taken by the stage. Others were 
 gathered in a group, bending over something that lay 
 on the ground a fact which made the miner s smile 
 grow broader and more satisfied as he gazed. 
 
 "Beckon them road-agents 7 !! try 7 n 7 cut in on us 
 roun 7 by that arroyo, three mile farther on, 7 said he 
 at last to the other miner. " I don t reckon we got 
 much use fer another scrap not jus 7 now, anyhow. 
 Better pull off n this yer road an 7 make fer the river 
 settlements. Some er them won 7 t be none so fur 
 f um this. Don t yer reckon we d best fall off some, 
 Tuspon? 77 
 
 " Reykon, 77 replied Tuspon, slowly, after taking some 
 time to consider his reply. " P r aps we 7 d bettah go to 
 Tizzahd 7 s place, Tizzahd Castle, they calls it, that 
 lies a mile aw two ovah beyon 7 by the rivah, theah. 
 
 IOO 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 Then we kin sen an scaiah up a gang to roun up them 
 chromos what done up the drivah." He spoke in the 
 long, soft drawl that the natives of southern Texas 
 acquire from the combined influence of the Mexican 
 and the negro. 
 
 " That s what I say. Yer right, if yer did take all 
 day t say it," croaked Macklin. " Pull t the right off 
 here," he went on, addressing the capitalist. " There s 
 a trail that way that ll lead us t somebody s joint. 
 Pull off hear?" 
 
 Without looking around, the capitalist swung the 
 horses sharply to the right, and for an instant the 
 stage hung on two wheels as it turned. The mes 
 senger feebly tried to counterbalance the swing. He 
 was about to fall, but the gambler reached forward 
 and caught him, saying : " You hurt, too ? I didn t 
 see that." Tuspon climbed laboriously over the seat, 
 and between them he and the gambler carefully low 
 ered the messenger until he lay on the foot-board be 
 side the driver. 
 
 "Look-a yeah, Macklin," drawled Tuspon, as he, 
 straightened himself from the task. "Reykon that 
 we-" 
 
 " Reckon we might as well pull up and kinder take 
 account er stock, like. Yes ; yer right," interrupted 
 his mate. "Why can t yuh talk fast ernough so s a 
 man ll have time ter stop an hear yer? Better pull 
 in them horses." 
 
 "Wasn go n tah say nothin laike that," observed 
 Tuspon, leisurely. "I was tellin that Tizzahd s was 
 jus theah. See, yondah ? " 
 
 101 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 He pointed, as he spoke, to a ridge of sand, over 
 which appeared the top of a gray adobe building. It 
 was utterly unlike the ordinary adobe house; even 
 the roof showed that, for it was castellated, and at 
 one end it was raised some feet above the rest. 
 At this end a pole was planted, from which floated 
 a flag a white flag, bearing a strange, half -heral 
 dic device, apparently cut from red flannel and 
 sewed on. 
 
 Then the stage mounted a rise, and the rest of the 
 house came into view. It was surrounded by a ditch, 
 four or five feet deep, and rather wider than it was 
 deep. Narrow slits took the place of windows in the 
 outer walls, and the one door that pierced them, 
 apparently leading into a patio, or inner court, was 
 closed by a heavy sliding gateway made of rough- 
 hewn timbers. In front of the door three or four 
 planks, spiked together, lay across the ditch. At the 
 end nearest the house these planks were hinged j at 
 the other end ropes were fastened that led through 
 holes in the adobe walls. 
 
 " Good Lord, this takes me ! " said the gambler, as 
 he saw these mediaeval preparations for defence. 
 "What sort of a place is this, anyhow? There s a 
 portcullis drawbridge, too." 
 
 " Yeahs," said Tuspon ; " they draws it up with them 
 theah ropes. Don 7 savvy no pohtcullises, thout you 
 mean that theah windah-sash gate. That piece ah 
 red shu t on the sheet what hangs on the pole up 
 theah, that means that Frawg Tizzahd he s in the 
 place. When he s away she hauls it down Lady 
 
 102 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 Tizzahd she hauls it down. Theah she is ; now, 
 stan in 7 by the pole on the roof. See?" 
 
 " She s gone," said Macklin. " Didn t go ter s pose 
 she s goV ter wait there till you got done tellin it, 
 did yer?" 
 
 As he spoke the drawbridge slowly ascended and 
 the portcullis slid down. When the stage reached the 
 strange structure it was silent and apparently deserted. 
 
 " What s gone wrong with the locos what run this 
 yer joint?" Macklin went on impatiently, as they 
 pulled up by the ditch. "Have we got ter break 
 inter the oP ken?" 
 
 By way of an answer, Tuspon pointed to a tin horn 
 that hung, tied to a post, near the drawbridge. 
 
 "What in blazes is that for?" growled the capital 
 ist ; but the gambler said : " They Ve got the whole 
 thing up to date, or back to date that s all. Let 
 me get out, and then just watch me while I blow 
 a blast that will call the seneschal to the outer walls. 
 Lord, what a lot of lunatics we must have run 
 against ! " 
 
 He descended, and going to the post, lifted the horn 
 and blew a loud, discordant blast. Instantly a head 
 appeared over the top of the wall. It was a peculiar 
 head. Its eyes were rather large and stood out from 
 the short face. Chin there was none. The mouth was 
 enormously wide, and was edged with the thinnest of 
 lips lips that curved downward. Evidently the per 
 son to whom the head belonged was climbing a ladder 
 planted against the wall, for the head appeared by 
 degrees, and by degrees the body followed it. It was 
 
 103 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 a round body, but without much corpulence. The 
 arms were short and the legs were long. 
 
 "Theah s Frawg Tizzahd that s him/ remarked 
 Tuspon. 
 
 " Frog ? " said the gambler. " Looks it, don t he ? " 
 
 In his appearance the man certainly suggested 
 a frog. Even the capitalist recognized that, and 
 stopped his swearing long enough to emit a hysterical 
 chuckle. Then he took up his profanity where he had 
 left it off. The queer figure reached the top of the 
 wall, and stood gazing at the stage and its passengers 
 with a comprehensive smile. 
 
 "Are you the warden of this keep?" asked the 
 gambler. 
 
 The man on the wall, if he heard, made no sign of 
 having done so. 
 
 " I say, you man on the battlements, are you the 
 chief of this domain ? " again queried the gambler j 
 " because, if you are, we want to get in." 
 
 "Who is it that demands the right of entrance 
 here ? " suddenly came, in a feminine voice, shrill but 
 deliberate, from behind the wall. 
 
 Macklin and the capitalist raised their voices in 
 urgent profanity. Each sought to explain the plight 
 in which they found themselves, and each sought to 
 demand admittance. Now and then one would show 
 signs of easing off his flow of words in favor of the 
 other, but as the other would always be moved by a 
 similar impulse at the same moment, they would start 
 together and talk at the same time as before. Finally, 
 vanquished by his more voluble companion, Macklin 
 ceased, and the capitalist talked rapidly on. 
 
 104 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 "I fail to comprehend/ 7 said the voice at length, 
 as the capitalist paused for an instant. "You are 
 strangers, and of strangers we are wary, for the 
 times are parlous. Also you bear the marks of a 
 fray." 
 
 " Fray ! " roared Macklin. " Wasn I jus tellin you 
 that we runned agains a gang er road-agents what 
 done up two on us an " 
 
 " Hold on," interrupted the gambler, in a low tone. 
 "I ll speak to them. Just wait." He stopped and 
 thought for a moment, smiled, and went on, raising 
 his voice and addressing the unseen woman: "In 
 deed, lady, we demand nothing; only do we crave 
 sanctuary here for a time. We have been sore beset 
 by outlaws who essayed to rob us, and in the melee 
 that followed two of our comrades were wounded, as 
 you may see. Therefore do we seek an asylum where 
 we can dress their wounds. We cannot go farther as 
 we are, and without succor the men will die, for truly 
 they are in evil case." 
 
 " Didn t start out seekin no asylum, but we found 
 one all right enough," growled Macklin. 
 
 There was no reply from inside the wall, but the 
 drawbridge fell with a whistling of running ropes and 
 a final bang on the wooden sill set in the ground to 
 receive it. The horses started at the noise, jolting the 
 two bodies cruelly. 
 
 Gathering in his team, the capitalist began to 
 swear ; but the gambler stopped him : 
 
 " Shut up. It s a woman, don t you see ? Besides, 
 we want to get in." 
 
 As he spoke he pointed to the portcullis, now fully 
 
 105 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 revealed by the fall of the drawbridge. Behind the 
 heavy grating a woman stood, gazing at the people 
 on the stage outside. The gambler ran quickly across 
 the drawbridge, lifted his hat, and bowed low. 
 
 " Fortune has befriended us in finding for us a 
 refuge such as this and with so fair a chatelaine," he 
 said. " Command, I pray you, that the portcullis be 
 raised and that we be admitted." 
 
 " In faith, fair sir, your speech is courteous," replied 
 the woman. " It shall be even as you wish." 
 
 Immediately there was the click of blocks and the 
 creak of straining tackle. The portcullis lazily rose, 
 showing more fully the form of the woman who stood 
 in the gateway. 
 
 "Punkin an milk, hair an 7 skim-milk, eyes an 
 Good Lord ! what sorter rig s that she s got on er ? " 
 ejaculated Macklin, softly. 
 
 The costume of the woman was peculiar. Her 
 gown, of some heavily hanging stuff, was made in 
 one piece from head to heels. Around her waist it 
 was girt to her body by a thick cord, which, after 
 taking several turns, fell low, in a loop, through 
 which a fold of the gown was pulled. At the ends 
 of the cord hung a wallet, from which protruded a 
 pamphlet, worn and yellow-covered. 
 
 " Say, we better not go inter that ther cage," whis 
 pered Macklin, hurriedly. " Nough sight better jolly 
 em inter lettin it down again, an then we c n peg it 
 somehow, so s they can t h ist it no more. They re 
 nothin on top er this worl but locos, an like as not 
 they ll try an cut our throats at night, or do s mother 
 
 I 06 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 thing like that. I don t min road-agents, not in 
 moderation, that is, but I can t go locos, nohow. 
 Hadn t we better skip out an chance it ? Say, whatjer 
 think?" 
 
 No one answered him. Tuspon and the gambler 
 already were lifting the wounded men from the foot 
 board, and seeing that his appeal was ineffectual, 
 Macklin stepped forward to help. From the road 
 and its blinding sunlight they carried first the driver 
 and then the messenger into a broad, shadowy passage, 
 where a cloth-swathed olla hung, dripping ceaselessly 
 on to the floor of hard-trodden clay. A door opened 
 from the passage, leading to an inner room, where 
 stood their hostess, motioning for them to enter. 
 They carried the two men inside and laid them on 
 piles of cattle-hides, several of which were placed at 
 intervals along the sides of the room. 
 
 " I ll see what this man needs, as well as I can," said 
 Macklin to the gambler. " You do what you can fer 
 t other." 
 
 The gambler already was stooping over the express- 
 messenger s senseless form. Cutting away the cloth 
 ing that covered the wounds, he probed them skilfully 
 with his white, slender fingers; while close beside 
 him Tuspon waited, anxious to help, and the capi 
 talist paced restlessly up and down. When at last 
 the gambler lifted his eyes, he saw that Macklin was 
 standing beside him. 
 
 " He s gone the driver he s gone," said Macklin, 
 sadly, in reply to the gambler s questioning look. 
 " Once through the ongbongpwang he got it, an once 
 
 107 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 higher up. Either one er them holes would er done 
 the business all right enough. Hadn t no sense in 
 tryin ter put up er fight. He wouldn t er tried, I 
 reckon, only fer his savin s that he was a-sendin to 
 his wife, that was in that ther express-safe. He paid 
 fer it kinder high, he did, but he had sand always 
 had. How s Charley?" 
 
 " The messenger ? He ll do, I think hope, anyhow. 
 But he s got it bad. He wants a doctor. You d 
 better take one of the horses and ride back after one. 
 Bring a sheriff, too, and a posse to round up those 
 road-agents if they can. Anyhow, bring the posse. 
 Get the safe off the stage and in here, where we can 
 keep an eye on it ; Tuspon and I can attend to it then, 
 as well as to this man, here. You might take that 
 Chicago man with you. 7 
 
 " You re not going to take me with you, I ll tell you 
 those," remarked the capitalist. "I m going to stay 
 right here. You ll have to ride bareback, and I m not 
 going to be split by the ridge-pole of one of those 
 horses. I ll stay here." 
 
 Macklin made no protest against the decision of the 
 capitalist. 
 
 " Reckon you ll have ter come, then, Tuspon," said 
 he. " We ll have ter ride bareback, I think, myself 
 don t see no saddles nowhere about. Come out, first, 
 an get the safe in here." He turned and went out, 
 followed by Tuspon and the gambler. 
 
 The stage stood where they had left it, and under 
 its box-seat the canvas-covered safe could plainly be 
 seen, with red stains here and there on its white front. 
 
 1 08 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 Macldin reached for the safe, while Tuspon climbed 
 on the wheel on the opposite side. 
 
 " Give er a push this way, Tuspon/ called Macklin j 
 then to the gambler : " Stand by to back me up, so s 
 the weight won t throw me." 
 
 The gambler moved forward as desired. Macklin, 
 assisted by Tuspon s push, heaved lustily. The chest 
 yielded with an ease that was out of all proportion to 
 the force brought against it. It flew toward Macklin, 
 who, overbalanced by his pull, fell backward before 
 the gambler could reach him. Macklin reached the 
 ground first ; the chest arrived immediately afterward 
 and landed on his body, then rolled on to the sand 
 and lay there, the white canvas gleaming in the sun. 
 
 "Where are you hurt can you stand?" asked the 
 gambler, as he ran to the prostrate man. 
 
 Macklin could stand. He ran to the safe and kicked 
 it; it flew from him as a football might fly. He 
 caught it up in his hands and dashed it on the corner 
 of the drawbridge sill ; it bounded off. And then he 
 jumped on it. From beneath the canvas cover there 
 came the sound of splitting wood. 
 
 " That s the treasure we was all a-fightin fer," ex 
 claimed Macklin, as he drew a knife and ripped off the 
 canvas, disclosing a shattered box made of thin pine 
 boards. " That s a thing fer two sensible men ter get 
 killed about, ain t it? What yer gawpin at, you 
 fool ? " This last was addressed to Tuspon, who had 
 strolled around the stage and stood looking at the 
 sham safe. 
 
 Tuspon glanced up with a gentle smile. 
 109 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " Looks kindah like we got sucked in, don t it ? " he 
 drawled. 
 
 " Sucked in ! n roared Macklin. " We be n robbed, 
 you chump ! Robbed before that there gang er road- 
 agents got ever a chance at us. Get that through yer 
 thickhead?" 
 
 " How sold them fellahs would a been, if we d only 
 knowed about it an let em take the safe," observed 
 Tuspon, still smiling. "An then, it" 
 
 "Say what yer go n ter say before ter-morrer, if 
 yer can," called Macklin, impatiently. 
 
 "An then, it ain t no skin offn you if that theah 
 chest is rawbed, is it?" Tuspon went on, undis 
 mayed. " You ain t gawt nahthin in it." 
 
 " Don t make any difference whether he had or not," 
 growled the capitalist. " We re all in the scrape, just 
 as much as the driver and his mate ; and it served them 
 right for being on the old hearse, that s good for noth 
 ing but a double-barrelled funeral like this, anyway." 
 
 " Likely it ll be a three-bah led f une hl if you keep 
 awn talkin like that," observed Tuspon, in his softest 
 voice. " I nevah did have no use foh that man not 
 the leas in the worl ," he went on, addressing the 
 gambler, as though the man of whom he spoke were 
 not present. "Mos prawb ly I ll huht him, one ah 
 these times, if he keeps so plentiful." 
 
 While Tuspon was speaking, both he and Macklin 
 were rapidly unharnessing the lead-team of the stage. 
 Having thrown off the gear, for an instant they threw 
 themselves limply over the backbones of their mounts, 
 then each threw a leg across and sat up. Beating the 
 
 I IO 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 sides of their horses with their unspurred heels, they 
 urged the animals to a gallop, and disappeared down 
 the trail. 
 
 " Well," said the gambler, as he turned toward the 
 house, "I suppose we d better go inside out of this 
 sun. We can only wait, now. 7 
 
 The capitalist stood looking down the trail. 
 
 " I don t know," he replied absently. He stood for 
 a moment longer, then walked quickly toward the 
 stage. " I guess I don t want the job of waiting that 
 you re telling about," he said, as he began to unbuckle 
 the harness of one of the wheel-horses. "Anyhow, 
 there s only one man s work here." He flung off the 
 harness, and unbuckled the names. The collar did 
 not come off easily, so he let it remain, and mounting 
 by means of a wheel, he started in the direction taken 
 by the others. The gambler reentered the house. 
 
 The wounded man was tossing from side to side on 
 the pile of skins. Beside him stood the woman. She 
 had a cup in her hand, from which she had been giving 
 him water. 
 
 " The fever is on him now," she said, as the gambler 
 entered. " In a little while it should spend itself. He 
 is young and strong, and will live." She bent over the 
 messenger, examining the dressing of his wounds. 
 Then she deftly eased a bandage. " These are over- 
 strait; they give him pain. I know something of 
 leechcraft," she explained. 
 
 The gambler offered to help her, but she waved him 
 aside. 
 
 " It is meet that I should do this," she said. " The 
 I I I 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 place of the women is here. At present there are 
 none here but myself, and my husband is the only 
 man. He stands guard on the battlements until some 
 of our retainers shall return. No harm will befall 
 those who claim our protection. It is enough that we 
 take toll of the others who pass. That is our right as 
 lords of the soil. All that you can see from the towers 
 is of our domain." 
 
 As she talked she was attending to the wounded 
 man, moistening his bandages and fanning him, while 
 the gambler watched her. That she was mildly in 
 sane he had not the least doubt. Still, this talk of 
 taking toll, couched though it was in mediaeval terms, 
 fell in too closely with the experience of the morning 
 to be altogether reassuring. It was said in a matter- 
 of-course way that gave it an air of truth which was 
 puzzling, to say the least. Still, she had also said 
 that guests would be respected, and certainly she 
 seemed to mean it as far as the messenger was con 
 cerned. 
 
 The gambler thought it all over carefully, and he 
 felt uneasy. He looked to the cartridges in his two 
 stubby little double-barrelled derringers. They were 
 poor weapons, however, these derringers, for any 
 range but the very shortest. He took up the mes 
 senger s cartridge-belt, which lay on the floor, and 
 buckled it, with the pistol in the holster, around his 
 waist. 
 
 The gambler strolled out into the passage. One 
 end of it was closed by the portcullis, which was low 
 ered, and through its heavy bars he could see that the 
 
 112 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 drawbridge was raised, darkening the passage at that 
 end, save for two gleams of light that found their way 
 in at the sides where the drawbridge did not quite 
 cover the opening. The other end of the passage gave 
 on to a species of courtyard, made by the wall on three 
 sides and the house itself on the fourth. The top of 
 the wall was so broad as to make a pathway inside its 
 parapet, and along this pathway Frog Tizzard was 
 slowly pacing. When he reached a corner he would 
 lower his rifle from his shoulder and lean on it while 
 he gazed earnestly over the desert. Then he would 
 pick up his weapon again and pass on to the next 
 corner, and after another pause to the next, and so on 
 for round after round. The gambler watched until 
 he was tired. There was something so utterly useless 
 in such precautions against surprise in this dismal 
 emptiness of sand that they seemed to place the 
 watcher among those whose senses had gone astray ; 
 yet there was no other evidence of such unsoundness, 
 unless it lay in the house itself, or the way in which 
 the household was carried on. 
 
 Impatient and hot, the gambler returned to the 
 house. The big, dusky room was deliciously cool after 
 the heat and glare outside. For the moment the 
 messenger was lying quiet, either asleep or in a 
 stupor. The woman was beside him. She was seated 
 in a chair, made with arms but without a back, of 
 heavy planks crossed saltierwise. Like the other 
 fittings of this strange room, it had a mediasval look, 
 as well as a suggestion of great discomfort ; but its 
 occupant seemed to find no fault with it. In one 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 hand she held a fan made of feathers in the other a 
 limpty bound book which she was reading. Evidently 
 she was much interested in the book, for from time to 
 time the fan would stop as it was gently waved to and 
 fro over the face of the unconscious messenger, and 
 gradually the arm that held it would lower until the 
 fan touched his face ; then, with a little start, she would 
 raise the fan and wave it to and fro as before. 
 
 The messenger was breathing lightly, almost imper 
 ceptibly, and the gambler bent over him to listen. 
 As he did so, he caught a glimpse of the pamphlet that 
 the woman was reading. It was a narrative of some 
 kind, and was largely made up of conversation. Ex 
 clamation-points, like little balloons, were sprinkled 
 plentifully over the page. 
 
 There was nothing to be done for the messenger. 
 The gambler could only wait for the return of his 
 friends with the help they were to bring. He paced 
 up and down the room like a caged animal. Around 
 the walls there hung the skulls and horns of cattle or 
 deer. The gambler examined them carefully, one by 
 one. On a shelf, made of a box pegged to the adobe 
 wall, lay piles of printed matter pamphlets and cheap 
 books, all of them romances of the middle ages. The 
 gambler selected one and tried to read ; but the tale 
 could not hold his interest, and he threw the book 
 down. 
 
 At noon the woman gave him food thick slabs of 
 cold beef, ship-biscuit, and pulque with which to wash 
 them down. 
 
 "The trestles will not be brought forth nor the 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 board laid," she said apologetically to the gambler. 
 " Our household is too small, at present, to enable 
 us to do as we would for our guests." 
 
 The gambler wanted nothing to eat. He watched 
 her as she arranged a portion of food on a wooden 
 trencher, evidently for her husband. As she passed 
 out the door, he followed her, "to see the animals 
 fed," as he told himself, in a despairing effort to be 
 facetious. His hostess disappeared on the roof, and 
 reappeared on the wall. As she came toward him, 
 Tizzard stopped in his walk, looked at her, and smiled. 
 He leaned his rifle against the parapet, and taking the 
 disengaged hand of his wife, he raised it to his lips. 
 She set down the trencher and gently patted the hand 
 that held hers ; then she presented her cheek, he kissed 
 it, and she left him, passing out of the gambler s sight 
 on to the roof. Tizzard stood looking after her as she. 
 went, then began eating his food, keeping a lookout 
 over the desert as he did so. This did not seem like 
 the conduct of criminals or malignant lunatics. The 
 gambler was puzzled as he went into the house, but 
 more suspicious, even, than before. 
 
 The long afternoon wore itself slowly away. The 
 gambler strolled aimlessly from the room where the 
 wounded man lay out into the courtyard and back 
 again. Tizzard was plainly to be seen from the court 
 yard, his ungainly body standing in sharp relief 
 against the bright sky as he walked his unending 
 round of the walls and roof. 
 
 Toward evening Macklin s voice hailed from the 
 road. 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " Hi, thar ! " lie called. " Anybody left alive in that 
 ther 7 asylum ? 77 
 
 The gambler cast loose the ropes that held the 
 drawbridge, and made the clumsy windlass creak dis 
 mally as he raised the portcullis. 
 
 "Say, it ain t no fool of a ride down to that ther 7 
 camp," said Macklin, as he slid from his horse and 
 crossed the little drawbridge. " I reckon that Chicago 
 man he thinks so, anyhow. He likes ter stan 7 up now. 
 He got the poores 7 horse in the four the one that had 
 the sharpes 7 ridge-pole, as he calls it. He s comin 7 back 
 in a buggy, split mos up ter the collar-bone. 7 
 
 "Where s the rest? 77 asked the gambler. "Didn 7 t 
 you bring any one back with you ? " 
 
 " Sure. Six men an 7 a doctor. I pushed on ahead ; 
 I didn t wanter leave you alone here any longer n I had 
 ter. Tuspon he wanted ter come back, too, but they 
 rounded him up with ther gang what s out after them 
 thieves. The boys up there they lent me this pony an 7 
 saddle, an 7 1 pulled my freight f er here without stoppin 7 
 none. The doctor an 7 the other six ll be along none so 
 long behin 7 . How 7 s the messenger ? 7 
 
 As the gambler answered the question, Macklin 
 began to wink in a significant manner and to edge 
 toward the door. Still talking, the gambler followed 
 him. 
 
 " I didn t wanter say nothin 7 , not in there, with 
 that loony woman standin 7 by, 77 said Macklin, as soon 
 as they reached the courtyard ; " but I wanter give 
 yer the straight word. This place here is dead shady. 
 Down ter the camp all the boys says so. The gang er 
 
 116 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 pirates what hangs roun here, makin out that they re 
 punchers, is as tough an outfit as ther* is in the Ter 7 - 
 tory. The boys has suspicioned em doin a lot er 
 things, but they ain t proved nothin , so fur. Likely 
 they ll be back, now, mos any time. We c n hoi ern. 
 outer here, all right enough, if so be we shoots Frog 
 Tizzard firs , so s he can t help em from th inside.- 
 That s the reason I come back. Say, don t you reckon 
 I d better do him now, an make sure ? We can t leave 
 here, not with that ther 7 wounded man no place ter 
 go. Say, shall I do him?" 
 
 As he spoke he made a movement toward the heavy 
 pistol that hung on his hip. 
 
 The gambler caught his hand. 
 
 " Hold on, you fool ! " he cried. " What are you 
 going to do ? Think, if you re able to. You ve got 
 nothing to go on but a suspicion camp talk. All 
 that these people have done to us so far is to give us 
 the best they ve got after takin us in." 
 
 " We got taken in all right enough you did, any 
 how," growled Macklin, glancing at Tizzard, who was 
 still pacing the walls. " But I do wanter shoot no 
 man like that kinder in the back. Nobody ain t 
 go n ter get in what we don t want in. I ll fix that 
 right now." 
 
 He went into the passage, and began to pull at the 
 lines that raised the drawbridge. He had not fully 
 hoisted it when there was the muffled sound of horses 
 hoofs on the soft sand of the trail, and the creaking 
 of saddles and the click of spur-chains. Then some 
 one called. 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 "Here they come now," shouted Macklin, with a 
 relieved laugh, as he let the bridge fall once more. 
 
 The doctor was the first to climb stiffly from his 
 horse. He detached an instrument-case from his 
 saddle, and, without speaking, entered the door of the 
 room pointed out to him by Macklin, where lay the 
 wounded man. 
 
 The sun was going down. The shadows of the men, 
 as they unsaddled and cared for their horses, stretched 
 farther and farther across the plain, until they came 
 to the wall of the castle and commenced to creep up 
 its face. Before the men had finished, the shadows 
 had vanished merged into the blue darkness. By 
 the edge of the ditch, outside the walls, supper was 
 cooked and eaten, while the firelight showed the 
 seated forms of the men as crisp silhouettes, and 
 then passed on to redden the gray adobe walls. 
 
 The men who sat around the fire were thoroughly 
 contented with themselves. They were chasing a 
 gang of outlaws, and at the end of the chase there 
 would probably be a fight j therefore the occasion was 
 a joyous one. They had fallen into that state of genial 
 silence which accompanies well-fed contentment. The 
 conversation was confined chiefly to monosyllabic 
 grunts, with long intervals between them. 
 
 "What s wrong with the people of this place?" 
 asked the gambler of the deputy sheriff, who headed 
 the men from the camp. " Macklin told me that you 
 were suspicious of them. Is it because they re well- 
 queer, you know?" 
 
 "No, I reckon not," replied the person addressed, 
 118 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 removing his pipe from the thick beard that concealed 
 his mouth. " She s sure locoed an he s more r less of 
 er fool, but that don t interfere nohow with him keepin 
 an awful bad lot er men hangin roun the joint. 
 Ther s be n hold-ups little ones, mos ly, that didn t 
 make much talk that comes back pretty close to 
 them men, an 7 ther 7 ain t much doubt but what Tizzard 
 stan s in with the thieves, if he ain t the boss erthe gang. 
 They re sure the men what held you fellers up to-day." 
 
 As the officer was speaking there was a soft move 
 ment in the entrance to the castle. Then the windlass 
 screamed as it unwound and let the portcullis fall. 
 The ropes of the drawbridge strained and tightened, 
 but before it could rise the gambler jumped on it. 
 Macklin and the deputy sheriff followed, and then the 
 rest of the men. 
 
 " Lift this here gate ! " roared the deputy. 
 
 As many men as could stand on the sill caught hold 
 of the lower bar. 
 
 " Heave ! " 
 
 Every man put forth all the strength that lay in the 
 muscles of his back. Through the grating the gam 
 bler caught sight of Lady Tizzard. She was reaching 
 high above her head in an effort to thrust home a pin 
 that fastened down the sliding gate. The men tugged 
 with all their might, but it was back-breaking work. 
 The portcullis grated in its grooves, then slowly raised 
 in little jerks. The gambler and Macklin threw them 
 selves flat on their faces, and wriggled under. Then 
 the overstrained backs could stand the effort no longer, 
 and the portcullis fell. 
 
 119 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 The gambler ran to the windlass, but the woman 
 was there before him. She drew a knife from her 
 bosom and, as he came within reach, struck at him 
 savagely. Macklin pinioned her arms, and lifted her 
 aside as though she were a child. The gambler raised 
 the gate slowly from its sill. As soon as it had risen 
 a foot or two, the other men, stooping low, ran under 
 it and caught hold of the windlass-crank. 
 
 " Bring in them horses, you fellers," commanded the 
 deputy sheriff. "Then come in yourselves an let 
 down the gate an h ist them there planks. Nobody 
 ain t go n ter get in here to-night ithout we know who 
 he is. What was you tryin ter do, marm, anyhow ? " 
 he added, turning to the woman. 
 
 She had been struggling silently in Macklin s arms, 
 trying to reach him with her knife. Finally the knife 
 fell from her hand. She gave a little scream, and be 
 came passive. Macklin stepped on the frail blade as 
 it lay at his feet, and snapped it close to the haft. 
 With a side- jerk of his foot he sent it through the 
 open gate, and then set the woman at liberty. 
 
 " What was you tryin ter do ? " asked the deputy 
 sheriff again. 
 
 The woman arranged her ruffled draperies, straight 
 ened herself up, and glanced haughtily around her. 
 
 "You have violated the rules of hospitality," she 
 said. "You were plotting treachery against your 
 host, speaking with slanderous tongues against him, 
 and accusing him of monstrous deeds. You were pre 
 paring to undo him who took you in when you were 
 sore beset on yonder plain. Had I once secured the 
 
 120 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 gate, you would have remained without, methinks, for 
 you would have found it difficult to effect an entrance 
 against the will of those who were within. But now 
 you are here. Work your will with us, for we have 
 no means of resistance, and therefore we submit." 
 
 As she finished speaking, she turned and left them, 
 retiring to a room on the opposite side of the passage 
 from that in which the messenger had been laid. Ten 
 minutes later, as the gambler was passing the window 
 of this room, he glanced inside. A fire burned on 
 the hearth, throwing wavering shadows on the clay 
 floor. On one side of the fire Frog Tizzard was 
 huddled in a motionless heap. On the other side his 
 wife sat reading one of her well-thumbed pamphlets. 
 Now and then she would wave her hand in uncon 
 scious gesticulation. Every trace of her recent annoy 
 ance had vanished j the only expression on her nervous 
 face was one of intense interest in what she saw on the 
 printed page before her. 
 
 As the gambler turned away from the window, the 
 men had closed the entrance to the castle and were 
 attending to their horses. Some of them were already 
 lying, their heads pillowed on their saddles, in the 
 deep shadow of the walls. 
 
 " Reckon you d better turn in, now, an get some 
 sleep," said the deputy sheriff, crossing the courtyard. 
 "There ain t nothin you c n do. The doctor he s 
 had his supper, an he says that the man what s hurt 
 is sure doin as well as he knows how. Got sunth n 
 more n an even chance, the doc says, an do want 
 nothin fer now but ter be kep still. Some er the 
 
 121 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 boys, here, are goin to keep watch an let in the rest 
 er the gang what s out after them thieves. They ll 
 bring em here if they ketch em alive, an if they 
 don t ketch 7 em they ll come theirselves, so s ter get a 
 start by sun-up in the mornin . You go ter roost." 
 
 The advice was good. The gambler was surprised 
 at the degree of fatigue brought by the anxious day 
 that he had passed. He threw himself down on one 
 of the piles of skins in the room where the wounded 
 messenger lay, and in three minutes was sleeping the 
 deep sleep of utter exhaustion. 
 
 Once during the night he was partially awakened 
 by the creak of the windlass as it raised the portcul 
 lis, and the bang of the drawbridge as it fell. Then 
 followed the tramp of hoofs and the sound of 
 men s voices that blended themselves together in a 
 sort of meaningless dream as the gambler slept once 
 more. 
 
 Then in a few minutes, it seemed to him some 
 one was shaking him by the shoulder. 
 
 " It s me," whispered Macklin s voice. " Come up 
 ohter the wall. Tuspon he s up there, an the depitty. 
 The depitty wants you. There s sunth n go n on." 
 
 The gambler followed him out of the room. . By the 
 light of a smoky lantern that hung on the wall, he 
 could see that the wounded man was resting quietly. 
 The doctor was sleeping on the floor beside him. 
 
 Followed by the gambler, Macklin led the way up 
 the ladder on to the wall, and then ran along the top, 
 stooping low so that the parapet would conceal them 
 from any one outside. The gambler almost stumbled 
 
 122 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 over the legs of a man who knelt against the parapet. 
 It was the deputy. 
 
 "See?" he whispered, pointing through one of the 
 openings in the top of the castellated parapet. 
 
 The gambler peered through. A lantern was stand 
 ing on the ground a few yards from the wall, and in 
 the circle of light that it shed, Frog Tizzard was 
 busily digging into the loose sand of the desert. 
 
 "He s been at that ten minutes er more," whis 
 pered the deputy. " He lowered another ladder out 
 side the wall, an got down on that. I was a-watchin 
 up here myself, under the shadder, where he couldn 
 see me. I got him covered all right. He can t get 
 away, nohow." 
 
 l> What s he doing, anyway ? " inquired the gambler. 
 
 " I d know, but he s sure doin sunth n he s there, 
 ain t he ? " returned Macklin. 
 
 " Sh-h ! " said the deputy. 
 
 Tizzard had finished his excavation. Sticking his 
 spade in the pile of sand by the side of the hole, he 
 turned and came toward the wall. Macklin made a 
 movement as though he would start in pursuit; but 
 the deputy stopped him, saying : " He s left the lan 
 ternhe ll go back. Hoi on." 
 
 Leaning over the wall, the three men looked down. 
 Though the east was brightening with the coming 
 sunrise, there was still so little light that Tizzard s 
 figure showed only as a blot somewhat darker than 
 the shadow of the walls. From the sounds they could 
 tell that he was trying to drag something toward the 
 hole he had made something that was heavy and that 
 
 123 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 yielded slowly. Little by little it moved, until one 
 could see that it was a chest of some kind. As he 
 dragged the chest, Tizzard was between it and the 
 lantern, so that it was not until he stood aside that 
 the light gleamed on the black frame and dark-green 
 panels of an express-safe. 
 
 The deputy sheriff and the gambler ran around the 
 wall toward the ladder by which Tizzard had de 
 scended, while Macklin and Tuspon rose to their feet 
 and levelled their rifles. Tizzard looked up and saw 
 them. Throwing the lantern against the iron chest, 
 smashing the globe and extinguishing the light, he 
 started to run ; but the breaking day made his move 
 ments visible, though dimly so. 
 
 " Stop ! " roared Macklin. 
 
 Tizzard gave no sign of having heard the com 
 mand. A rifle-shot followed it. The man ran still 
 faster, and for a time the Winchesters crackled fiercely 
 from the top of the wall. At the foot of the ladder 
 the shadow of the wall was streaked with red by the 
 flashes from the deputy s pistol. From where he 
 stood, on the rung of the ladder, the gambler leaped 
 over the officer s head, staggered as he struck the 
 sand, recovered himself, and started in swift pursuit 
 of Tizzard s retreating form. He rapidly overhauled 
 his man. Tizzard s heavy footsteps were becoming 
 irregular, and the gambler could hear that his breath 
 was drawn in the short gasps of one unaccustomed to 
 running. A couple of men, roused by the shots, had 
 hastily mounted their unsaddled horses and were 
 riding in a circuit in an attempt to intercept the 
 
 I2 4 
 
Tizzard Castle , 
 
 fugitive. Suddenly Tizzard doubled, returning to his 
 starting-point as a coursed rabbit returns, and ran 
 into the arms of a party just coming to join in the 
 chase. 
 
 He made no resistance. Walking between two 
 men, with others preceding and following, they 
 brought him to the place where the abandoned stage 
 stood, near the drawbridge. The deputy was there 
 to receive them. 
 
 A dozen voices inquired as to the cause of the chase. 
 Macklin and three others brought the safe, by way of 
 answer, and laid it at the deputy s feet. What fol 
 lowed was of the nature of a trial. It was very brief. 
 There was but one conclusion to which the men could 
 come, and one penalty to which they could sentence 
 the accused. In a few minutes, therefore, the pro 
 ceedings were finished as they had been carried on : 
 finished with shouts and oaths and reference to the 
 wounded messenger and the driver, whose unburied 
 body still lay in the house of the man they believed to 
 have been instrumental in causing his death. 
 
 Taking the hair neck-rope from one of the horses, 
 they bound Tizzard s hands with it. A lariat was 
 reeved through the lead-ring on the tongue of the 
 stage, after which the tongue was lifted and propped 
 with the doubletree. 
 
 The loop of the lariat was placed around Tizzard s 
 neck, and several men grasped the loose end. For 
 the moment there was a hush of expectation ; then the 
 deputy stepped forward. 
 
 " Is ther* anythin ye d like ter say before yer go ? " 
 
 125 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 he asked. " Any little thing that wants ter be tended 
 to ? I ll do what I can, but ye d best speak up. You 
 likely won t have no other chance." 
 
 Tizzard looked down at his feet and made no reply, 
 but there was a moment during which they all waited 
 for one. 
 
 Suddenly there was a swish of draperies, and the 
 voice of Lady Tizzard broke the pause. 
 
 " What now, ye hounds ! n she exclaimed. " Which 
 of you has dared lay violent hands on your host? 
 And you so many, he but one." 
 
 The men turned and saw the woman crossing the 
 drawbridge. She was walking slowly, with long 
 strides and a pause after each stride. There was an 
 expression of grave displeasure on her face, but it was 
 self -satisfied displeasure, as though she rejoiced in the 
 opportunity of showing it. 
 
 The men shifted their positions and looked uncom 
 fortable. Catching the woman s arm, the gambler 
 tried to lead her away; but she waved him impe 
 riously aside. Tizzard glanced at her once, then 
 dropped his eyes. 
 
 " Would ye condemn him to the death of a dog ? " 
 she went on. "Surely ye could mete to him some 
 end more fitting our rank he is lord of all the land 
 ye see. If it is ransom that you require, it shall be 
 yours the ransom of a prince all our treasure and 
 my jewels." 
 
 Once more the gambler tried to lead her away. 
 The deputy also approached, saying : " Ther ain t no 
 sort er use in you bein here, marm, not the leas in 
 
 126 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 the worl . Ye see, it s outer my ban s, it s onten the 
 han s of all of us, an no money ain t go n ter do no 
 good. You better go with that ther gentleman." 
 
 A little murmur of sympathy came from the men, 
 and one of them said aloud : " He d orter a be n took 
 off fm here som w er s. It s noways her fault; she 
 ain t jus right, and hadn t nothin ter do with it all 
 not knowin ly, anyhow. It s a dead shame." 
 
 Tizzard, who had been standing with his eyes turned 
 toward the ground, suddenly raised his head. He 
 stood more firmly, and the drooping corners of his 
 mouth straightened themselves. His protruding eyes 
 glanced around the circle of men that surrounded him, 
 resting on one face after another. He gulped down 
 something that was apparently sticking in his throat, 
 and with an effort that was almost painful, he spoke. 
 
 " Look-a yere," he said, and his voice was harsh, as 
 though rusted from disuse. " One er you fellers was 
 askin me if I wanted ter say anythin , an I didn t 
 then, but now I do." He paused and gulped again, 
 looking down at his hands as they were tied in front 
 of him, and opening and closing them once or twice 
 in a helpless sort of way, and then went on : 
 
 "It ain t no good fer me ter say that you got me 
 where I don t belong, not this time anyhow, fer you 
 wouldn believe me. I know I got ter hang, an the 
 sooner the quicker. It s her, there, I wanter say my 
 piece about, so you ducks let me alone till I get 
 through, an then yer can hang me and be damned. 
 
 "She ain t done nothin , an she s a woman what 
 wants somebody ter look out fer her. She ain t no 
 
 127 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 fool, but her kinder brains ain t the sort what goes 
 roun here not in the little things, that is. Other 
 ways she s all right. The way the house is fixed up, 
 so s no one can t get in, that s her doin ; an ther 
 couldn t no one have got in, not one er you, if she 
 hadn t made me pull up that ther portcullis thing." 
 
 He spoke more rapidly now, eager, apparently, to see 
 that full justice was done to the mental powers of the 
 woman he was trying to defend. The men were silent, 
 except when some one said in an undertone : " Firs 
 time he ever said three words together when I was 
 roun ." 
 
 "Sh-h," said some one else; and then the pause 
 was unbroken until Tizzard resumed his speech : 
 
 "Say, here s this: she s been dead white all she 
 knowed, alwuz. It don t hurt no one, does it, if she 
 wants er flag flyin when I m in the shebang, an wants 
 ter pull it down when I go out ? Never min what I 
 done ; that don t cut no figger now, an I m go n ter 
 pay up fer what you think I done pay up all I got, 
 an no man can t do no more than that. 
 
 " I heard some er you a-sayin that ther was a tough 
 gang what hangs roun here. Let it go at that. 
 What I wanter say is that she ain t got nothin ter do 
 with none of em. She calls em all retainers er mine ; 
 thinks they re a little private army, like, what I keep 
 fer to see that things don t go wrong roun this yer 
 manor, or domain that s the land what I got roun 
 here, an most er the desert what she thinks I got. 
 She ain t locoed, like what you think, not er little bit. 
 She s edj created, that s all. All the time she s readin 
 
 128 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 them books what I sen fer down to Tucson. All the 
 time she s readin em ; an nights, when I ain t got 
 nothin else ter ten to, she ll read em ter me, so s I ll 
 know how ter do like the men in them books they 
 did. But I ain t much on their lay never was ; an 
 I reckon no one couldn t wear iron clo es, not in this 
 climate. 
 
 " She s lots too good fer to be in this country, here 
 along er me, an she s too good ter be left along er 
 you-all, but I can t help myself. So I want one er you 
 men, if so be ther is one square an decent ernough^ 
 ter say that she ll be treated white an right till she 
 c n be got away f m here back East, where she come 
 from. I want one er you ter write to them people 
 back East an tell em she s comin ; an then see that 
 she s put on the cars an started ther s money enough 
 fer that. Then I want this here place an the cattle 
 sold, an the money sent ter them folks in the East. 
 Is ther some one what ll do this ? " 
 
 Tizzard looked eagerly, first at the deputy, then at 
 the gambler. 
 
 " I know she struck at you with a knife las night," 
 he went on, addressing the gambler directly. " That 
 was when she tried ter shut you-all out, an she tried 
 ter do that becuz she thought you was a-sayin things 
 erbout me. She s stuck by me through all hell, an 
 that s all the harm she ever done. Will you do them 
 things what I spoke of 1 I can t do no more fer er 
 now, an you c n pay yerself fer the job." 
 
 Tizzard stopped speaking, and raising his pinioned 
 arms, wiped his forehead on his shirt-sleeve. Appar- 
 
 129 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 ently the speech had exhausted him even more than 
 had the near prospect of death, for his face was as 
 white as its weather-beaten skin would allow. He 
 dropped his arms and once more looked at the gam 
 bler. 
 
 " I don t want any pay," said the gambler. " I ll 
 do all I can." 
 
 " So ll I, dead straight," added the deputy. 
 
 Tizzard looked relieved. 
 
 " Go inter the house now, honey," he said, speaking 
 to his wife for the first time. " Take er in ! " he added 
 to the gambler. "Take er in an an get it over, 
 will you f " 
 
 Both the gambler and the deputy turned to the 
 woman, who stood between them. She dropped a 
 book that she had carried with her from the house j 
 it lay at her feet, and a little breeze was fluttering its 
 pages. She was bending forward ; her hands worked 
 convulsively, one into the other. 
 
 "I fail to understand," she said hesitatingly. "I 
 fail to understand." 
 
 " Ther* ain t no call that you should understand, not 
 right now," said the deputy, soothingly, as one might 
 speak to a child. " Come on inter the house, here, like 
 he tol yer to. Here s yer little book." 
 
 He picked it up and handed it to her, but she did 
 not seem to see or hear him. 
 
 " Surely you would not murder a man ! " she cried. 
 "Release him ! Let him go let him come with me. 
 There is ransom. You can have all there is I ask 
 only for his life." 
 
 130 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 Once more the gambler tried to lead her into the 
 house ; but she broke away from him and ran forward, 
 leaving all trace of her feudalism behind. 
 
 " Let me have him, oh, let me have him ! He s done 
 you no harm he hasn t harmed anybody. That box 
 has always been here. It belonged to us I thought 
 it belonged to us. I sent him out there last night to 
 bury it I was afraid some one would find it and my 
 things that are in it. Let him come with me. He ll go 
 away far away, and I ll go with him. I ll go with 
 him anyway, and then you ll have killed two. Let me 
 have him he s all I ve" 
 
 With an unsteady step or two, she fell unconscious on 
 the sand. The gambler sprang forward to raise her. 
 
 "Take er inter the house, quick," said Tizzard, 
 hoarsely, "now, before she comes to, an then get 
 it over." 
 
 He turned away from his wife and stood facing 
 the open desert. Lifting the woman in his arms, the 
 gambler carried her into the house. There was 
 another sympathetic murmur from some of the men. 
 Macklin stepped quickly forward. 
 
 " Look-a yere," he said to Tizzard, roughly ; " what 
 was that bout that ther box bout you findin it out 
 here on the desert som w er s that yer woman jus 
 said ? Was it straight ? " 
 
 " Yep. On the desert I found it, bu sted an empty, 
 after the stage was held up two year ago. Give it to 
 her to put stuff in. Open it." 
 
 There was no trouble in opening the safe. The hasp 
 was broken, and it was fastened only with a stick. 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 The lid was thrown back and the contents were re 
 vealed. There was money in the safe money in 
 halves and quarters, gold pieces and a few stray bills. 
 There was jewelry as well crowns and tiaras of cheap 
 gilt, pins and rings and bracelets of the same kind, 
 all of them set with sham gems that glittered bravely 
 as they were thrown in a heap on the sand. They 
 were most obviously theatrical jewels ; even the men 
 recognized this as they crowded around the safe. 
 
 " Why didn t yer tell us first off that this here wasn t 
 the box what we was after?" asked the deputy, in 
 dignantly. 
 
 " Called me a liar if I had," returned Tizzard. 
 
 " That s so," admitted the deputy. 
 
 "That money s mine an hern. It s what we 
 saved," Tizzard volunteered after a pause. "She 
 wanted ter keep it there along with them them other 
 things er hern. Them jewellery things belongs to her. 
 I got em fer her, an she likes em. She ain t much of 
 er judge er jewellery. She s got er notion that they re 
 things what her gran daddies had f om away back," 
 he went on, with a pitiful smile of deprecation at the 
 weakness he was revealing. " It s jus her w r ay, count 
 er that ther edj creation er hern. It don t hurt no 
 body," he hastened to add. 
 
 There was a dead silence after he had finished. 
 The men looked uneasily at each other, shifting their 
 positions or suddenly becoming engrossed in nothing 
 at all. Each one was waiting for some one else to 
 make the first move. Finally the deputy spoke. 
 
 " Say, boys, are you so dead sure we want this here 
 
 132 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 man so bad ? " he asked, in a shamefaced sort of way. 
 "Ther* don t seem ter be so much proved on him 
 now. S pose you take his word that he ll pull his 
 freight, an turn im loose." 
 
 "You can see that he keeps his word easily 
 enough," added the gambler, who had returned from 
 the house. "All the people that were on the stage 
 are willing to let it go that way, and we re the suf 
 ferers by the hold-up to-day. There s nothing proved 
 against this man you ve got nothing against him, 
 more than you ve had for years past. Surely it s 
 hardly a square deal to go on and hang a man just 
 because you ve begun the job and don t want to leave 
 it unfinished. Think of his wife. She showed us 
 nothing but kindness she did the best she could. 
 You d better let him go." 
 
 This proposition did not meet with universal ap 
 proval. Many of the men were in favor of carrying 
 out the sentence. Each faction held obstinately to 
 its opinion. From arguments more or less orderly, 
 the debate grew warmer and louder, until the air was 
 torn with strident voices. Suddenly the doctor ap 
 peared in the drawbridge. 
 
 " Shut up that noise, can t you ? " he called, raising 
 his hand to attract attention. " Do you want to kill 
 the man in there the messenger?" 
 
 There was silence instantly, and the doctor went 
 on in a lower tone : 
 
 " This noise will be the death of him if you keep it 
 up. What are you doing with that man ? " he asked, 
 looking at Tizzard. 
 
 133 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " Hangin him/ answered some one. 
 
 " What for?" 
 
 "You know. Bobbin the stage an shootin the 
 messenger an ? the driver/ growled the man who had 
 spoken before. 
 
 "He didn t rob the stage there was no robbery." 
 
 " Where s the express-safe, then f " 
 
 "In a trunk on the boot. I thought you knew. 
 The messenger put it there. He talked about it when 
 he was out of his head, awhile back. The other pack 
 age was a decoy, I suppose. I had just got the man 
 quieted when you roused him with the cursed howling 
 out here. I don t know anything about who did the 
 shooting, but if you re going to hang any one for it I 
 wish you d do it somewhere else or do it more quietly, 
 that s all." 
 
 Turning back, the doctor reentered the house. 
 
 There were but two trunks on the boot. One was 
 identified as the property of the capitalist ; the other 
 was so heavy that four men could hardly lift it down. 
 Some one brought an ax and split off the lid. Inside 
 there was a something wrapped in canvas. Drawing 
 a knife, Tuspon slit the canvas, revealing the missing 
 safe that lay beneath. 
 
 " I reckon that settles it," said Macklin, briskly, as 
 he began to untie the knots that bound Tizzard s arms. 
 
 "But I reckon you better not stay roun here," 
 added the deputy. 
 
 Some of the men looked at each other rather fool 
 ishly ; some of them growled among themselves ; but 
 no one offered to interfere with Macklin as he strug- 
 
Tizzard Castle 
 
 gled with the knots in the hair rope. He untied them 
 at last, and tossed the rope to its owner. 
 
 Tizzard threw the loop from his neck. He stretched 
 his cramped arms and chafed his wrists as he looked 
 stupidly around him. 
 
 "Stay here?" he said. "Stay here with her? 
 Not while I c n walk an pack her with me. Sun- 
 down ll see me thirty mile f om here." 
 
 Turning toward the house, Tizzard lounged across 
 the drawbridge and disappeared in the direction in 
 which his wife had been carried. 
 
 The gambler watched him until he was out of sight. 
 
 "I don t see that there s anything for us to stay 
 for now. The messenger s in good hands, and there 
 are men enough to do all there is for the driver," 
 he said, turning to the deputy. " You ll come along 
 with the treasure, I suppose, and see that we aren t 
 held up again. Perhaps some of the men can ride 
 along, too." 
 
 By way of an answer, the deputy pulled away the 
 doubletree that had been propping the tongue of the 
 stage. Horses were quickly harnessed. The deputy 
 mounted the box, the others climbed to their places, 
 and the stage moved away, straining up the little rise 
 down which it had come the day before. It reached 
 the top and began to descend on the other side. 
 
 "Theah s the wind-up, I reckon," said Tuspon, 
 pointing backward down the road. 
 
 The others looked. Over the top of the sand-dune, 
 only the castle tower, with its battlements and flag 
 staff, was visible; and as they looked the flag flut- 
 
 135 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 tered down. The men faced ahead again, and for a 
 time no one spoke. 
 
 " I bet that Tizzard chap was in that gang, just the 
 same, and knew all about those hold-ups," remarked 
 the capitalist, at last. 
 
 The gambler and the deputy nodded. 
 
 Tuspon looked at the capitalist in mild amazement. 
 
 " Why, suah," he said. 
 
 136 
 
THE MARTYRDOM OF JOHN THE 
 BAPTIST 
 
THE MARTYRDOM OF JOHN THE 
 BAPTIST 
 
 A PRAIRIE of yellow sand, glaring and tremulous 
 in the scorching Arizona sun, reached the hori 
 zon on three of the cardinal points j on the other, 
 the south, extending to the foot of the Sierra Tucson, 
 which showed, outlining its rugged shapes in dusky 
 blue, many miles away. 
 
 From north to south a trail, showing from a little 
 distance only by the absence of the sage-brush and 
 maguey along its length, or by the clouds of dust 
 which the little whirlwinds, wandering aimlessly 
 about, would pick up from it, began in dim perspec 
 tive, culminating in a little oasis, where, set in its 
 vivid green, the gray adobe and glaring, unpainted 
 frame of a settlement appeared; then running with 
 a diminuendo movement toward the mountains, 
 against which an occasional faint wreath of smoke 
 would announce the coming of one of the four daily 
 trains a passenger and a freight in each direction 
 of the then newly built Southern Pacific road, 
 where the little box of a station with its still smaller 
 section-house stood, almost pathetic in their complete 
 loneliness, on the arid plain. 
 
 139 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Frog Tanks was young, scarcely a year old, its 
 youth replete with the folly and wildness of its habitat 
 and immaturity. It was an important place, and one 
 which must continue to thrive ; for the springs from 
 which its name was taken flowed, clear and cool, from 
 their four big, sandy basins, watering the juicy grass 
 which extended for many acres around ; and so the 
 great freight-teams, plodding along the burning road 
 in endless procession, horses and men parching and 
 faint from the choking clouds of alkali dust which 
 overhung them, would halt here for a rest, sometimes 
 of a week s duration, waiting for their return loads, 
 while the horses revelled and waxed fat on the strong 
 grass and abundant water, and their masters enjoyed, 
 after a month s enforced abstinence, the dubious 
 whiskey and seductive faro. The great treasure- 
 wagons, too, with their numerous guards protecting 
 the loads of bullion pigs, would pass through on their 
 way to the station, five miles beyond, to rest awhile on 
 their return trip. Emigrant outfits, with their lean 
 horses, prairie-schooners, and pale, jaded-looking 
 women, ragged, weather-beaten prospectors, their en 
 tire worldly possessions loaded on one or two tiny 
 burros, silent gamblers, swarthy Mexicans, wander 
 ing bands of Indians, and all the flotsam and jetsam 
 of frontier humanity, attracted by the abundant sup 
 ply of what is in that region the rarest luxury, water, 
 and, incidentally, by that most desired,whiskey, helped 
 to diversify the life of the town and leave much 
 money there. 
 
 The trail became gravelly as it crossed the oasis, 
 140 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 which it divided into two nearly equal parts, a broad 
 yellow stripe across the green, and along both sides of 
 this the bulk of the town was ranged. Two adobe 
 stores stood nearly opposite each other near the centre 
 of the village, and each way from them ran a row of 
 the more popular resorts, overflowing the limits of the 
 green island on to the desert beyond. Of these all had 
 a bar in front and an extension behind, generally of 
 canvas stretched over a frame, from which, in some 
 cases, came the click and rattle of chips and the dron 
 ing voices of the dealers ; in others the sound of guitars 
 and fiddles, or, in one instance, the jangle of a much- 
 abused piano, told where the dance-halls, with their 
 painted sirens, held forth. Back from the street, 
 placed in the order that best suited their owners, 
 stood the tents or arrow- weed thatch wickiups of the 
 residence portion, interspersed here and there with 
 drinking-shacks of the humbler sort, where fiery mescal 
 was dispensed at a price within reach of the greasers 
 who patronized them ; then strong stock-corrals of cot- 
 tonwood poles, pasture-land, and, beyond, the open 
 desert. 
 
 It was siesta-time, and so Frog Tanks was quiet, for 
 the daily trains were about due, and those who had not 
 gone to meet them were, for the most part, reposing 
 each in his own dwelling, or what answered for one, 
 when a group of the residents was gathered under the 
 thatched veranda of the principal saloon, the Monte 
 Carlo, which united within itself the triple attraction 
 of " boozing-ken," gambling-house, and dance-hall. 
 With one exception, they were all men who worked 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 hard at their respective callings of barkeeper, gam 
 bler, or the like, and were now, through the heat of 
 the day, enjoying that companionable silence which 
 comes with the cessation of continued labor. The 
 exception was a swarthy and rather handsome man, 
 aged some two- or three-and-f orty, of huge frame, lean 
 and powerful, who seemed a leader among them, as, 
 indeed, he was. This was " Faro Carlo," King of Frog 
 Tanks. Few monarchs deserved their titles as did he, 
 for he ruled his dominions not only by his strong arm 
 and ever-ready pistol, but by right of ownership as 
 well. Two years before he had come, a gambler fresh 
 from a streak of hard luck and a record of many lives, 
 his whole fortune consisting in his weapons and the 
 blooded mare he rode, from the cattle towns of the 
 West, and stopped here for the night, as many had 
 done before. The engineer s camp he had passed on 
 his way, and the row of numbered stakes which showed 
 where the new railway was to run, had revealed to him 
 the possibilities of this green spot ; and so, the neces 
 sary formalities having been gone through with, he 
 had become the proprietor of six hundred and forty 
 acres of what our government is pleased to consider 
 as desert land. It was hard living at first, but game 
 was plenty around the springs, and when the rail 
 way was finished, as he steadily refused to sell any 
 land, the ground-rents, together with the revenue 
 from his store and saloon, brought a greater income 
 than he had ever dared hope for ; and now, as he sat, 
 his chair tilted back against one of the few cotton- 
 wood-trees of which Frog Tanks could boast, his 
 
 142 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 ornate dress, heavy silver-mounted pistols and spurs, 
 and whole bearing indicated the prosperous man. 
 
 The sound of footsteps coming down the gravelly 
 road made some of the men lazily turn their heads 
 from where they lounged or lay on the grass. But it 
 was only a cow-boy, known to them all, returning 
 from seeing that the bunch of cattle he had brought 
 in that day were safe in their corrals, so they returned 
 to their former occupation of silently fighting the flies 
 which buzzed in swarms around them. The new 
 comer, with a grunt of salutation, seated himself, and 
 extracting from the pocket of his leather chapparejos 
 a bag of tobacco and a bundle of slips of brown paper, 
 proceeded to roll a cigarette, bending it almost double 
 and holding it at arm s-length, Mexican fashion, as he 
 lighted it, saying : " I see John the Baptist s outfit is 
 over beyond thar ; has he held forth yet ? " 
 
 "John who? eh? What did you say his other 
 name was? Who s he?" said a little man, nervous 
 and wiry, Billy Perrin by name, the town marshal and 
 Carlo s right-hand man, roused into a momentary 
 show of interest. 
 
 " Hasn t got no other name that I ever heard. Just 
 calls himself what I said John the Baptist of the 
 Second Comin . Surely you ve heard tell of him." 
 
 " I have. Sunday-school. Back East. Must be an 
 old man by now," came from under the hat which 
 covered the face of a gambler a faro-dealer of the 
 Monte Carlo who lay at full length hard by, until 
 now apparently asleep. 
 
 " That ain t no kin to this one," responded the cow- 
 
 43 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 boy. " I saw him when I was herding for the Cross 
 bow outfit up Palomas way. Comes from Lord knows 
 where, nobody else does, anyhow, an he preached. 
 Preached every chance he got j an he s no slouch at it, 
 you bet, but his prophesyin is what licks me." 
 
 "What did he prophesy about, Sammy?" asked 
 the gambler, sitting up. 
 
 "Oh, everything pretty near. Day o judgment, 
 world burnin up, and general damnation, mostly. 
 But that didn t cut no figger, though he could do it 
 up slick. It was the particular ones. There was some- 
 thin out of the run in them. You mind that carrot- 
 topped chaw what used to fire the stamp-engine up 
 to the Nigger Ben, don t you? Andy McGuirk his 
 name was." 
 
 A nod of assent, and he went on : 
 
 " Well, about a week ago the Baptist had a meetin , 
 an fired off his texts an prophecies an things to beat 
 the cars. McGuirk was there, an I s pose he got tired 
 of bein told how dead sure he was to go to hell, for 
 up he jumps onto the bar l he d been sittin on, an 
 pulls a flask out of the back-stairs pocket of his jeans, 
 an sings out, Here s lookin at ye, Johnny, an may yez 
 never go to a worser place than meself . Some of them 
 laughed, I was there, I seen it all, but the Baptist 
 pulled his sermon up short, an stretched out one hand 
 toward McGuirk, an just stood there. His face was 
 white, an pulled itself about at first, an then got quiet 
 and looked like he was a drowned man. There wasn t 
 no noise for a while, an Mac he got down off the bar l 
 an kinder sneaked the flask back into his pocket. 
 
 144 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 Then John the Baptist turned loose, an talked like 
 some one had wound him up. I couldn t get on to all 
 he said, but it meant that it wouldn t be long before 
 McGuirk would cash his chips. The death angel had 
 branded him, an soon the leaden messenger would, at 
 his say-so, round up the blackened soul worthily placed 
 in the vile body before him. That s what he said some 
 thing like that, anyhow, an a lot more about how high 
 the thermometer would climb where Andy would fetch 
 up. It wasn t complimentary, no way you could fix 
 it, but McGuirk went out like somebody d licked him. 
 Well, sir, all he said come true. Mac was dead leery 
 of himself for a while, an then began to booze up, an 
 bimeby got fightin drunk. He had it in for Hughes, 
 who runs the faro-bank down to the Cactus Cottage, on 
 some old grudge, an went in there to settle it. He 
 had the drop all right enough, had his gun drawed be 
 fore he went in, but before he could shoot, Hughes 
 nailed him with a derringer, fired through his pants. 
 Yes, sir ; laid him out cold an stiff. First man shot 
 there in three months. Next mornin John s outfit 
 had gone, nobody knew where ; but, I tell you, he s a 
 corker on the prophesy. I d rather any man in the 
 Territory had it in for me than him." 
 
 The speaker stopped. His cigarette was done, and 
 he rolled another. 
 
 " That was queer," said the gambler ; " but I don t 
 see what the angel of death had to do with it. 
 Angels aren t much in Jack Hughes s line, unless he s 
 changed a good deal since I saw him last. Where is 
 this John the Baptist, as you call him, Sammy ? " 
 
 145 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 "I seen *m," said Perrin, in his nervous manner. 
 " Thin -as a knife, eh ? Ghosts of mules an played-out 
 wagon, no ? Old A tent just enough canvas to keep 
 holes together ; ain t that it ? Let s go have a look at 
 ? em. What say, King ? " 
 
 Carlo nodded as he slowly arose and, stretching 
 himself, put on his hat. "Ain t goin to have no such 
 foolishness as prophesyin men to death around here," 
 he said. " Pull on, Sam." 
 
 "John the Baptist of Second Comin , eh? Bout 
 time for second goin , no ? " put in Perrin, cheerfully, 
 as, led by the cow-boy, they filed away from the one 
 street along a well-worn foot-path which led toward 
 the western boundary of the oasis. Along through the 
 groups of tents and shacks it ran, passing in its 
 course the court-house, standing on the one little 
 eminence of the town. Consisting as it did only of 
 a board floor sheltered by a pillar-supported roof of 
 redwood " shakes," the criticism of a pert young lieu 
 tenant of cavalry, who had once seen it, that it " looked 
 like a split between a Coney Island dance-hall and the 
 Parthenon," was more or less justified ; but it was the 
 only building of its kind in many miles, and Frog 
 Tanks pointed to it with pride. Past the corrals, now 
 filled with wiry-looking cattle, they went, to a spot 
 in the pasture-land where, away from the frequented 
 parts, a little camp was placed. At one side, crouch 
 ing over a small fire on which something was simmer 
 ing in a battered tin pail, were two women, clad in 
 scanty gowns and sunbonnets of calico. They bore 
 a close resemblance one to the other, and were prob- 
 
 146 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 ably mother and daughter, but both had that gaunt 
 and indescribably aged appearance brought by hard 
 ship and poor food. The elder wore two rings, look 
 ing strangely in contrast to her faded gown, one of 
 plain gold ; the other, guarding it, flashed, when she 
 moved her left hand, with a brilliant stone of some 
 kind. 
 
 With its back to the desert stood the little tent, 
 much as Perrin described it, and close beside it was 
 the family wagon. It had been a light spring " demo 
 crat," but the springs were gone now, and the frail 
 body rested directly on the rickety axletrees. It was a 
 very skeleton of a wagon, but looked all too heavy 
 a load for the two emaciated mules whose rope-patched 
 harness hung ove? its tongue, and who were now 
 greedily filling their lank hides with the rich grass. 
 
 In front of the tent a man was pacing rapidly to 
 and fro. He was enormously tall j his hair, long and 
 grizzled, hung in matted locks around his lean face, 
 mingling with the untrimmed beard which rested on 
 his hollow chest. Dressed only in a shirt and a pair 
 of faded overalls, his head and feet bare, he was walk 
 ing with rapid, nervous steps, muttering in an under 
 tone, and now and then throwing out his arms in 
 frenzied gesture. 
 
 The gambler took in everything at a glance, his eye 
 resting for a second on the two women, then turned 
 on his heel and returned in the direction from which 
 he had come. The rest stood gazing for some min 
 utes, apparently unseen by those before them ; then 
 King Carlo strode forward, followed by his henchmen. 
 
 *47 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 The restless figure saw them then, and stepping 
 quickly up to the great man, bowed, and said in a deep 
 and not unmusical voice : " I believe I am speaking to 
 the chief officer of this town ? " It was a question, and 
 he paused for a reply, but receiving none, went on : 
 "I am an unworthy disciple of the Most High the 
 John the Baptist of the Second Coming, whose mission 
 it is to declare unto all men the sacred message in 
 trusted to his charge. The building I see yonder is 
 apparently adapted for public assemblage, and I have 
 to request the privilege of using it, during the next 
 few evenings, for my holy work. Have I your per 
 mission ? n 
 
 The monarch looked at the weird form for an in 
 stant, then nodded shortly, and walked rapidly away, 
 his satellites following. 
 
 " How s that, King ? how s that, eh ? Thought he d 
 have to git, no? Prophesy in get tin men shot, eh? 
 How s that?" 
 
 Perrin trotted along beside his big patron until his 
 ceaseless buzz broke through even the great man s 
 habitual taciturnity, as that of a mosquito might. 
 " Thought they looked like they needed a collection," 
 he growled. " Now shut up." 
 
 The meeting that evening was largely attended. 
 A religious affair of any kind was a novelty at Frog 
 Tanks, and there, as elsewhere, novelties were in de 
 mand. Also there had been features of this one that 
 differed widely from the preconceived notions of such 
 things, and on the following morning it was a subject 
 of discussion to the exclusion of all else. Not always 
 
 148 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 favorable discussion, by any means, for those who 
 furnished the ordinary amusements of the people, and 
 made their living thereby, were not at all pleased by 
 the almost total cessation of their business on account 
 of this new evangelist and his preaching. 
 
 The congregation in front of the Monte Carlo was 
 much larger than had been the one of the day before, 
 and more interested. Perrin was speaking, his tone 
 of malicious delight at the weakness of his neighbors 
 shriller than ever. 
 
 " Scared all you fellows, eh ? Dead leery, no ? 
 Back the cards, devil got his claw on your collar. 
 How s that ? Take a drink, go to hell don t that go ? " 
 
 " If it does go, you re booked to frizzle, William, my 
 son, if your breath don t lie," snarled a teamster, sober 
 now for the first time in several days. 
 
 " Didn t I tell you he was a bird on the prophesy ? " 
 said Sam, the cow-boy, who apparently felt something 
 of a showman s pride in the sensation he had intro 
 duced. "He shoots off them long words as easy as 
 takin 7 a drink. That collection business queered me, 
 though. Never heard of a preacher before who 
 kicked and wouldn t have one taken up because it 
 would be too big." 
 
 "That s right," chirped Perrin. "What s that he 
 said ? Superfluities. That s it. Superfluities he didn t 
 want, but grub had to go eh? How s the rest?" 
 
 "The contribution of a nickel, our smallest coin, 
 from each man, would serve to relieve his necessities ; 
 more he did not want, and then a lot more I forget. 
 Have all you boys got a nickel apiece ? I ll go clean 
 
 149 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 up all there are in the bank, and if you want one, come 
 to me/ said the gambler. 
 
 "Yes, it s only a square deal to play his game, since 
 he only wants a five-cent ante," said Sam j then, as the 
 gambler went into the saloon, " Say, King, John the 
 Baptist hit the tin horns [gamblers, more especially 
 unfair ones] pretty hard yesterday, and some of em 
 are sore about it, and say he s doin up their business, 
 and they re goin to clean him out to-night. Did you 
 hear it?" 
 
 "No," replied the monarch thus appealed to, look 
 ing impressively at the men of that calling who stood 
 near him ; " but you can tell the galoot who said that, 
 that if there s any cleanin out to be done, I ll do it 
 myself, and the man who tries any foolishness will 
 have to carry his neck in a sling." Then, with a nod 
 to each in turn, he relapsed into his former silence. 
 
 There is little twilight in those latitudes, so, though 
 it was summer, the moonless night, its sky of dark-blue 
 velvet studded with stars, sparkling as they never can 
 in our more northern parallels, had already fallen as 
 the inhabitants of Frog Tanks, great and small, began 
 to gather in front of the Monte Carlo. The faro-rooms 
 were deserted and dark, and no music came from the 
 dance-halls, many of their women having already 
 joined those who, of a prudent turn of mind, were 
 straggling in knots of twos and threes toward the 
 temple of justice on the hill, in order to secure seats. 
 Some of the bars were lighted, but few men hung 
 over their rough boards, and little business was done. 
 Of the crowd gathered in front, many of those who 
 
 5 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 had attended the affair of the previous night were 
 describing the scene, some with sheepish confession of 
 having been impressed by it, others with profane 
 bravado, to those of their neighbors who had been 
 absent. A group of faro-dealers were growling to 
 gether at one side in a low tone as to the turn affairs 
 had taken. Everywhere the meeting and its remark 
 able projector absorbed all attention. 
 
 " Time to get a move on," some one said ; and they 
 filed in a black string down the path. Their voices, at 
 first raised in joke and snatches of song, became more 
 subdued as they approached the court-house, and 
 finally, as it was reached, were silent. 
 
 A lantern hung on the door-post, burning dimly, and 
 under it, holding a little basket in her hand, stood the 
 elder of the two women. Into this, as he passed, each 
 man dropped his nickel, while on the other side the 
 younger of the pair kept silent count of each coin as 
 it fell. Only nickels were received ; if a larger piece 
 were offered the giver would be taken aside until it 
 could be returned or change made, and always with 
 out words. Until at last some amount agreed upon 
 seemed to have been reached, for the counter nodded 
 to her mate, and both turned and joined the entering 
 crowd, going with them into the building. 
 
 The benches, for the most part hastily made of 
 boards laid over boxes, which occupied most of the 
 barn-like interior, were already filled, and the crowd 
 was lining the sides of the room. In the end farthest 
 from the door a narrow stage had been built, and, save 
 for two chairs which stood one on either end, was 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 without furniture. Near its front edge, directly in the 
 middle, stood John the Baptist, upright, though with 
 bowed head, his long arms hanging by his sides. Two 
 huge tin torches, their staffs nailed against the front of 
 the platform, rose a yard above it, their light falling 
 strongly over the nearer rows of seats, on the fore 
 most of which sat King Carlo with his marshal, Sam 
 the cow-boy, and the gambler beside him. All were 
 uncovered save the latter, who wore his broad som 
 brero pulled over his eyes as if to shield the face 
 beneath from observation, or possibly from the yellow 
 glare, which, as the only light in the hall, showed the 
 notables in the forward part less and less distinctly, 
 as though in the order of their standing, until, toward 
 the rear, all merged into one indistinguishable mass 
 of motionless humanity. 
 
 The two women now approached, and placing the 
 basket on the stage at the feet of their leader, seated 
 themselves in the chairs at its corners ; then the shuf 
 fle of feet gradually ceased, and the congregation 
 was silent : there were no more to come. A minute 
 passed; then two; but the form before them gave 
 no sign in its impassive stillness. The silence be 
 came oppressive, and an uneasy motion stirred the 
 crowd, then subsided, leaving them still, as before. 
 Another minute, and suddenly the long, thin arms 
 were raised in a gesture of inspiration, or madness, 
 and the disciple began his message. With a certain 
 incoherent eloquence, but in clean-cut sentences and 
 incisive periods, the rich voice echoed through the 
 bare room in passionate warning and appeal. What- 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 ever the fact may have been, the gaunt figure, his thin 
 body trembling with the pressure of his own earnest 
 ness, lacked no faith in the divine origin of his mission, 
 and his truth backed his eloquence well in its influence 
 on the men to whom he spoke. 
 
 For some time how long they neither knew nor 
 thought this went on. Then his tone changed to one 
 of savage denunciation denunciation of the com 
 munity, of its customs and thoughts, of its pleasures 
 and lawlessness, of " You, and all of you, who wear 
 weapons by your sides, whose daily life is one of 
 drunkenness and blasphemy and unholy thought, you 
 who, through your filthy passions, have sunk to a level 
 even below that of the wretched women who minister 
 to them. You lower than the lowest who hold those 
 cesspools of corruption where, by godless lust of play 
 or drink or dance, you drag still farther down souls 
 already steeped in mire. You to whom the most 
 fearful human conceptions of the punishments of the 
 world now so near at hand would not, were they multi 
 plied ten thousandfold, serve to purge from your 
 blackened souls the stains of the sins which you daily 
 commit." 
 
 The speaker paused and stood erect ; his face, which 
 had before been twitching with excitement, grew calm. 
 The silence, save for the cry of a coyote on the desert 
 without, and the muffled sobs of a woman in the audi 
 ence, was unbroken for some minutes j then the 
 preacher began once more: 
 
 "My mission is nearly ended. He by whom I was 
 sent hath promised that soon, my labor done, I shall 
 
 53 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 be relieved. When, I cannot tell. But I am ready. 
 If the perdition to which, unchanged, you have con 
 demned yourselves" 
 
 Crack ! from the back of the room. The flash of a 
 pistol-shot lighted, for an instant, the darkness there. 
 The prophet stood with arms outstretched, as he had 
 spoken his last word, then swayed slightly and fell 
 headlong from the platform to the floor below, and lay 
 motionless. 
 
 Hardly had the echo of the report died away when 
 the four men on the nearest bench had sprung to their 
 feet, and stood facing the crowd with drawn weapons. 
 The benches farthest back seemed in confusion, and 
 through the congregation there was a movement as if 
 to rise. Then the King spoke. " Set down ! " he 
 roared. The crowd hesitated for a moment, but the 
 quartette standing there with ready pistols was an ill 
 one to face, and it obeyed, its harsh voices rising in 
 curses and remonstrance. " Shut up ! " Silence en 
 sued, and the gambler spoke in a low tone, rapidly, to 
 his chief. " You ll want to find whose six-shooter has 
 been fired. He ll try to get out, probably. I ll hold 
 the outside. Lend me another gun." Carlo nodded 
 toward his left-hand holster, which still held its pistol, 
 and drawing this the gambler passed quickly down the 
 aisle and disappeared in the darkness outside, while 
 Perrin, wrenching from its fastenings one of the 
 torches, ran to the other end of the room and fixed it 
 there, so that no one should take at a disadvantage the 
 men who stood in front. 
 
 It was all in a few seconds. One of the women, 
 
 154 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 rolling her shawl into a pillow, had laid on it the 
 preacher s head, and now knelt silently by, while the 
 other fumbled at the throat of his shirt, on the breast 
 of which a red spot broadened and grew deeper ; but 
 nothing could help him now, for John the Baptist s 
 work was ended. 
 
 The search for the murderer was a rigid one and 
 was carried far into the night, but to no avail ; each 
 weapon examined showed no signs of recent use, and 
 those who had knowledge of the guilty one kept their 
 secret well. Long before it was finished, the two 
 women, silently refusing all offers of assistance, had 
 placed their dead in the old wagon and driven away, 
 eastward, over the trackless desert, carrying with them 
 in the old tin pail which formed their table-service a 
 canvas shot-bag containing the results of a goodly 
 collection, taken and concealed there by the gambler 
 a collection of which nickels formed no part. 
 
 At last the fruitless search was over for the night, 
 and Frog Tanks slept. It had nothing else to do, in 
 fact, except to talk 5 but dry conversation did not 
 flourish there, and the bars, by royal edict, had 
 been closed. 
 
 For some hours had their slumber lasted, for there 
 was an unaccustomed coolness in the air, and it was 
 nearly morning when a faint rumble of thunder 
 sounded from time to time, and then ceased, as a 
 damp breeze sung over the oasis. Thick clouds gath 
 ered rapidly, obscuring the stars and making the 
 darkness still blacker, until a fierce flash of lightning 
 lit up the scene in unearthly blue, followed by a 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 crackling roll directly overhead. Frog Tanks sat up 
 in its blankets and listened, while the lightning played 
 almost without intermission, and the roar was as 
 though the last trump was indeed sounding. The 
 gambler in his cot across the doorless portal of the 
 Monte Carlo was awakened, and, joined by Perrin from 
 his bunk behind the bar, they pushed the bed aside 
 and stood looking into the alternate blackness and 
 brilliance outside. 
 
 " Hark ! " said Perrin, suddenly, " what s that, eh ! 
 Wait till the row stops. There hear it?" 
 
 Between the peals came a sound as of a horse 
 galloping madly. At each intermission it was louder, 
 and at length seemed abreast of them, when a flash 
 showed, as if in an instantaneous photograph, Nita, 
 Carlo s favorite mare, with head held low and flattened 
 ears, running for the open prairie as if for her life, 
 while on her back, hatless, half clothed, and without 
 his boots, the reins flying loose as his hands were try 
 ing to buckle the cartridge-belt and holsters around 
 his waist, sat the King, his face distorted in an agony 
 of fear. The picture disappeared, and the hoof -beats 
 were growing fainter, when the rain crashed down, its 
 liquid sheets blotting everything else from sight and 
 hearing. The gambler chuckled, but Perrin s language 
 was unequal to the expression of the emotions raised 
 in his breast, and he returned to his bed without 
 speaking. 
 
 The next morning broke brightly, as three hundred 
 and sixty mornings of the year do in Arizona. 
 
 There was a crispness in the air, for the sun had not 
 
 156 
 
Martyrdom of John the Baptist 
 
 yet risen high enough to turn the moisture into the 
 parboiling steam which it would do later, when the 
 marshal and the gambler wended their way toward the 
 adobe cottage which served as a royal residence. 
 
 Under the thatched veranda their sovereign was 
 seated as they arrived, his damp belt and holsters 
 stretched in the sun before him, and busily engaged 
 in cleaning one of his silver-mounted pistols. 
 
 A group of men stood or lounged about, who, as 
 Perrin drew near, exchanged glances. There had been 
 other witnesses of the previous night s royal progress. 
 
 "Mornin , King," was the little man s greeting. 
 " Saw ye last night. Skippin the day of judgment, 
 eh? Thought she d arriv 7 on schedule time, no? 
 How s that?" 
 
 Carlo s face was not pleasant. " I warn t takin no 
 chances," he growled. 
 
 This was delightful. Such a chance did not often 
 occur, and the remarks took a sarcastic turn. For 
 some time the baited monarch made no reply, but 
 wiping carefully the weapon he held, he inserted the six 
 great forty-five cartridges into their chambers, care 
 fully, one by one. Then, snapping the gate shut, he 
 balanced the " gun " carelessly in his hand as, looking 
 around at his tormentors, he observed, " I guess we ll 
 drap the subject" and the subject was "drapped." 
 
 57 
 
LIVER S RESPONSIBILITY 
 
LIVER S RESPONSIBILITY 
 
 LV^R first brought the Hypocrite to my attention. 
 It was also he who established, to the satisfaction 
 of the camp, that the Hypocrite was a very decent 
 person in his somewhat peculiar way. This was ac 
 complished very soon after Liver and I first came to 
 Aparejo. 
 
 Nominally, and in the eyes of outsiders, Liver was 
 my servant. In his own eyes or in mine it would be 
 hard to define his position, or to tell how he regarded 
 me. I always had an uncomfortable sort of idea that 
 he was sorry for my tenderfoot ignorance and helpless 
 ness, and had entered my service to assure himself that 
 I would not be imposed upon by the inhabitants of the 
 Arizona camp into which my fortunes had led me. 
 
 I had found Liver, a few months before, ill and 
 alone in a deserted cabin on an unfrequented trail, 
 where he had been left by an outfit of gamblers ex 
 pelled from a near-by town. Though fifteen years of 
 age, and some four feet eight in height, Liver was by 
 profession a faro-dealer, and had been expelled with 
 the rest of the fraternity. I attended to him in a sort 
 
 161 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 of way, for I took a fancy to his wicked little face. 
 Besides, I couldn t leave him there alone. At any rate, 
 the upshot of it all was that Liver entered my service. 
 As a servant he left much to be desired, but a more 
 loyal or devoted adherent would be very hard to find. 
 We went to Aparejo together, and that is where the 
 Hypocrite came in. 
 
 In Aparejo the Hypocrite was an institution. He 
 was the proverbial oldest inhabitant, for he had been 
 living in his big dug-out cabin on the side of Red Hen 
 Hill when the much overrated placer-mines caused 
 Aparejo s birth, two years before. But the Hypocrite 
 was not popular. It was not that he crossed in any 
 way the loose line of frontier ethics, but that he had 
 a way of keeping entirely to himself, that he lived 
 without work on remittances that came from some 
 mysterious source in the East, sent to Tucson and 
 redirected to our post-office, and that his appearance 
 did not meet with public approval. 
 
 He was tall, with a pear-shaped body, always dressed 
 in black. His face was very white, and so was his 
 scanty hair, which he kept closely cropped. He had a 
 manner of walking about with his hands under the 
 tails of his clerical-looking coat and his head thrust 
 forward, that gave rise to many unfavorable com 
 ments. 
 
 It was Liver who told me all these things, for at that 
 time I had never seen the Hypocrite. My time was all 
 taken up with the badly paying mines I had charge of, 
 and just then Liver was the only one of the household 
 who had any leisure. 
 
 162 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 " It s dead low-down, the way them chumps aroun 
 here is givin it ter that oP chroino," said Liver to me. 
 " He ain t no hypocrite like what they calls him, but 
 they ain t got sense enough ter savvy that, ner nothin 
 else, much. What is er hypocrite 1 n 
 
 I told him. 
 
 " Thought so, only I wanted ter make sure. Well, 
 he ain t none. It s that way he s got er passin roun 
 here with his han s under the tails er that long-legged 
 coat er his, lookin like one er these yer crow-birds 
 what s been made sick by havin his head shoved into 
 a flour-sack. That s what makes em say he s er hypo 
 critethat an the way he ll get drunk all by his lone 
 some. If he wants ter get drunk that-a-way it s his 
 own f uner l, I reckon. They talk about how he s pious. 
 It s a lie. He ain t no more pious than you are." 
 
 It is to be feared that Liver did not regard piety as 
 a virtue. His judgment, however, was entirely from 
 hearsay. 
 
 I wanted to see the Hypocrite, for the interest taken 
 in him by my henchman had aroused my own curiosity. 
 I had never known Liver to talk so long on any sub 
 ject before. Ordinarily Liver was rather a taciturn 
 person. 
 
 My desire was gratified the next afternoon. It was 
 the end of a long and tiresome day that Liver and I 
 had spent in searching for obliterated and utterly un- 
 fmdable claim-corners. We had ridden over many 
 miles of the sandy wilderness, and climbed several 
 more that were set on end against the dry, earthy- 
 looking mountains, and we were on our homeward 
 
 163 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 way, watching the long, ungainly shadows curveting 
 along on our left. The sun, a dull red ball, was sink 
 ing below the level edge of the desert. It had been 
 very silent silent as it can never be anywhere but on 
 a desert or at sea. Then from the west came a faint 
 rumble that grew louder, and topping a wrinkle of the 
 plain, half a mile away, an irregular, rapidly moving 
 black mass appeared, scarring the sun s lower limb. 
 
 " Indians ? " I asked. 
 
 " Stampede," responded Liver. " Come on." 
 
 Turning his horse, Liver rode across the desert to 
 ward the dimly seen mass, and I followed him. It 
 grew more distinct. We could hear the rumbling 
 thunder of the hoof-beats and the cries of men who 
 were riding with the rush. Liver turned again and 
 rode slowly in the direction taken by the stampede, and 
 again I followed suit. In another moment it had 
 caught us. 
 
 The animals they were horses were running in 
 the shape, roughly speaking, of a rectangle, on the 
 forward right-hand corner of which we found our 
 selves. Near us there rode a cow-boy, striking with 
 the heavy Jionda of his lariat at the heads of the for 
 ward horses, in a vain attempt to turn them before 
 they reached the cliffs, a mile or two away, for which 
 they were headed. Directly in front of the crazed 
 animals another cow-boy was riding for his life, edging 
 to the right as fast as he dared, in order to get clear 
 from the path of the . stampede. Inside the square, 
 but close to its edge, there ran a horse that was sad 
 dled, and ridden by a man whom I at once recognized, 
 
 164 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 from Liver s description, as the Hypocrite. With both 
 reins flying loose, he was clinging to the horn of his 
 saddle. Only, one animal hemmed him in to the 
 stampede. A resolute horseman could have forced his 
 way out, but the Hypocrite was not a resolute horse 
 man. All his faculties seemed centred in the one idea 
 of keeping on his uncontrollable mount. 
 
 " Pull im out ! " screamed Liver. " Let go yer 
 saddle an grab yer reins ! What s wrong with you 
 you daffy?" 
 
 If the man heard the warning, he paid no attention 
 to it, but shifted the hold of one hand from the horn 
 of his saddle to its cantle. Liver turned into the 
 press, squeezed his way through, and grasped the 
 flowing bridle-rein. Then he tried to regain the open 
 plain j but the horse that confined him had been reen- 
 forced by two others. I tried to help, and my mount 
 nearly fell from the collision that followed. Suddenly 
 one of the three horses fell, and another tripped over 
 him. I was going to shoot the third, but before my 
 pistol had left its holster I saw Liver raise his hand 
 and fire. The third horse tumbled like a shot rabbit. 
 This left an opening, and through it Liver came, lean 
 ing almost out of his saddle to counterbalance the 
 pull, as with his free hand he led the horse of the 
 Hypocrite out on to the open desert. 
 
 The stampede rushed by. Between us, Liver and I 
 brought the captive horse to a stand j but that was not 
 a very difficult matter, now that the excitement and 
 fright of the other panic-stricken animals was no 
 longer there to spur him on. 
 
 165 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 The Hypocrite smiled weakly as he looked first at 
 Liver and then at me. He raised his hand to his fore 
 head and swayed in his saddle. He would have fallen 
 if I had not caught his shoulder. 
 
 "What s bitin you now?" asked Liver, roughly. 
 "Needn go daffy again. Yer all outer the game, 
 straight enough. Them horses is pilin emselves at 
 the foot er that mesa by now." 
 
 " No," replied the old man, in a voice that was singu 
 larly weak and thin and trembling. "All right all 
 right, now. Thank you, thank you." As he spoke 
 his shaking hand was uncertainly seeking something 
 in the tail-pocket of his long black coat. Slipping his 
 hand in the pocket, Liver brought forth a flask, which 
 he handed to the Hypocrite, uncorking it as he did so. 
 With some difficulty the Hypocrite guided the bottle 
 to his mouth, and held it there for a long time, glued 
 to his thick, loosely hung lips. His face, from the 
 fright, had evidently been paler than usual, for I could 
 see the color returning to a network of little veins that 
 covered his nose veins that were very minute and 
 imperceptible a little way off. They were the only 
 marks of liquor that the face showed. It was a 
 heavy, weak, amiable face. 
 
 That drink seemed to pull the Hypocrite together. 
 He nodded to us quite briskly as, throwing down the 
 empty bottle, he trotted away. 
 
 " That s him," said Liver, as we resumed our home 
 ward journey. " He ain t no harm at all, but a lot er 
 them chumps at the camp has all got it in fer im cause 
 he stays by himself an 7 don t have nothin to say to 
 
 1 66 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 em j an a lot er fellers what don t think nothin about 
 it, an don t care, jus lets it go at that. Say, jer see 
 the drink that ol boy throwed down him? There 
 wasn t nothin slow about that, was ther* ? " 
 
 The magnitude of that drink inspired Liver with 
 respect. His advocacy of the Hypocrite had hitherto 
 been moderate, being merely the expression of Liver s 
 characteristic hatred of injustice. Now, however, it 
 became so aggressive that it savored of proprietorship. 
 Not only did Liver espouse the Hypocrite s cause, but 
 championed it as well. It had been the custom of cer 
 tain men in Aparejo to make a scapegoat of the Hypo 
 crite by hinting that he was responsible for many of 
 the smaller misdeeds thievery, or the like that were 
 committed in the camp. This was resented by Liver. 
 Those who brought such veiled charges invariably 
 bore reputations more unsavory than did the run of 
 men in our camp. Such a reputation was indeed un 
 savory, and this fact, with corroboratory details, would 
 be forcibly recalled to a person who accused the Hypo 
 crite, together with Liver s caustically expressed opin 
 ion of one who slandered an absent man. 
 
 By those to whom he addressed himself in this man 
 ner Liver was not beloved; the Hypocrite s more 
 active enemies, therefore, became enemies of Liver as 
 well. Chief among these was Dawlish. Dawlish was 
 a big man with a large, flat face, and small, shifty 
 eyes that looked like shoe-buttons. He kept a little 
 tienda, half store, half saloon, where he courted popu 
 larity by means of a loud voice and brusk manner, 
 which he intended to pass, and which did pass in 
 
 167 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 many instances, for bluff heartiness and good-fellow 
 ship. 
 
 " That ther Dawlish fool hell run himself gains a 
 stan still one er these odd times if he don t watch out," 
 said Liver to me the morning after the stampede, as 
 he was building the fire for breakfast. " Somebody 
 went through Tripler las night, when he was comin 
 home a little owly, an boned his dust. Tripler can t 
 tell who it was, but Dawlish he s talkin down to the 
 Palace how he saw oF man Reed" 
 
 "Who?" Tasked. 
 
 "OF man Reed him they call Hypocrite. It s a 
 dead shame, an I won t call him so. Saw oF man 
 Reed walkin with Tripler bout ten er leven las 
 night. It ain t so. Was up on Red Hen myself las 
 night, ter see f the scare er that stampede had done 
 th oF boy up, er anythin . He was there, sittin in his 
 own dugout, min in his own business all the time. He 
 wasn t nowhere else once. I reckon I ll see Dawlish 
 about that." 
 
 I gave Liver most definite and emphatic orders to 
 do nothing of the sort. Liver listened attentively and 
 answered not a word, and I knew that I might just 
 as well have held my tongue. To be sure, Liver was 
 safer than most people would have been, no matter 
 what he chose to do, for with the men who made up 
 the better element of our camp and bad enough this 
 better element was, for the most part Liver was a 
 great favorite. They liked his hard little face, where 
 the lines of the gambler already showed themselves ; 
 they liked his queer little figure, that looked so like a 
 
 1 68 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 cow-boy seen through, the wrong end of an opera- 
 glass, in its chaps, gun, and high-heeled boots. His 
 knowledge of good and evil especially evil pleased 
 them ; he was " so damned bad," as they expressed it 
 They knew nothing of Liver s profession, however, for 
 he never mentioned it, and at his request I also kept 
 it secret. 
 
 I did not intend that Liver should pursue his absurd 
 knight-errantry if I could prevent it ; so all that day I 
 kept Liver employed to keep him from wandering, and 
 in order that he might have something else to think 
 about. 
 
 After supper, however, as I became absorbed in some 
 figures, Liver left the unwashed dishes to take care of 
 themselves and disappeared. He must have been gone 
 some time when I first noticed his absence. I was 
 about to start after him to bring him back, by force 
 if necessary, when there came a knock at my door. It 
 was opened before I had time to answer, and Richie, 
 deputy sheriff, proprietor of the Palace saloon, and 
 all-around local magnate, entered the room. It was 
 not a large room, and with Dan s shoulders in it, it 
 seemed uncomfortably crowded. 
 
 " Evenin ," he remarked cheerfully, with a grin that 
 covered most of his good-natured red face. " Reckoned 
 I d jes drap raoun an tip y off baout that kid er 
 yourn. Lowed maybe you might be gitt n worried, 
 cause he toP me he hooked away thout askin leave." 
 
 I did not want to offend Richie ; he was a power in 
 Aparejo, and to me a friendly power for the reason 
 that I was fresh from the Eastern State that he had 
 
 169 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 left so long ago that everybody but he had forgotten 
 all about it. But I was anxious to find Liver, and said 
 so. I told Dan that Liver had given me reason to be 
 lieve that he was looking for Dawlish, and that if he 
 should succeed in his search, there might be trouble. 
 " He seen im all right enough," Richie replied with 
 a chuckle, seating himself in a chair that creaked com- 
 plainingly under his weight. " Oh, he seen Dawlish 
 all straight enough. There was trouble, too trouble 
 fer Dawlish. Liver he struck Dawlish in my place, 
 awhile ago, an he begins to call im down fer some- 
 thin 7 he d said baout that ol Hypocrite, as they calls 
 him, what lives up on the hill, over yander. Dawlish 
 answers somehow, don t know what he said, but it 
 didn t seem to please the kid, noways, an 7 then Liver 
 turns himself loose. In a minute he d called Dawlish 
 more different things than I could a done if I d 
 studied a year ; an I couldn t do no such cussin as he 
 did, not if I tried for two year. You orter a heard 
 it it was great. Dawlish made out s if twere a joke, 
 first off, but twarn t no joke, an he couldn t make it 
 look like one, nohow. The boys that were hangin 
 roun there begins to give Dawlish the laugh, an that 
 makes him mad. Fus thing we knows he ups an 
 makes a break fer the kid. Well, sir, that kid he 
 makes the prutties gun-play you ever see in yer life. 
 He did for sure. He had that six-shooter of hisn out 
 an cocked an down before that Dawlish could put the 
 foot he d lifted back on the groun . Dawlish sees he s 
 in a hole, an stops a minute ; then he turns an leaves, 
 walkin straight, like, an with both han s held out from 
 
 I 7 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 his body, well clear of his holsters. Liver looks after 
 him fer a little, an then shoves his gun back in its 
 holster, an mogs out thout sayin a word to nobody, 
 an goes up on the hill ter see that ol Hypocrite cuss. 
 He s thar now. He puts in all his spare time thar 
 every evenin . Say, he ain t nothin slow fer a kid, 
 you hear me tell." 
 
 Dan rubbed his hands and chuckled. He was much 
 amused. I was not. I was very angry at Liver, and 
 mentioned casually to Dan what I intended to do when 
 Liver should return. Dan took his leave, saying, as he 
 went out of the door, that I ought rather to encourage 
 Liver than otherwise, as he " done a damn good job." 
 
 On thinking it over, I came to the conclusion that 
 I had better take no notice of the affair. It might 
 cause a breach between Liver and me, for which I 
 would be sorry. So when he came, I merely reminded 
 him gravely about the unwashed dishes, and he began 
 at once to rattle them about as though he would break 
 them, every one, to make up for lost time. 
 
 He had nearly finished the dishes, and had only 
 broken two, when he said, in a pause of the rattle, " I 
 was up t ol man Reed s joint this evenin . Jus came 
 f om there." 
 
 " Yes," I acquiesced. " Was he sober ? " 
 
 " Not very. Not what you d call drunk, you know, 
 such as you r I d get, but jus owly, like he most gen- 
 er ly is. Had one er his daughter jags on the reglar 
 thing." 
 
 Now, I was not in the habit of getting drunk, and 
 I did not know that Liver was, but I let that pass. 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Neither did I understand the nature of a "daughter 
 jag/ 7 so I inquired. 
 
 " When th ol boy hasn t got much in im, he s as 
 tight as a new tomarter-can," explained Liver. " But 
 then, when he s got a little more inside his face, he 
 gets to talkin bout that ther girl er his what runned 
 away fom im, years back. Never talks er nothiii 
 else when he gets to that stage er the game. Says 
 how he wants to find er, an how he hunted fer er, 
 an wonders where she s got to. Says she s ol nough 
 ter have er kid bout like me, or a year or two older, 
 maybe. Sometimes he cries about it he s an ol man, 
 you know, an weak, so I don min that if it makes 
 him feel any better. That s what we call a daughter 
 jag. He don t say nothin bout himself nor his folks 
 nor nothin like that, not at no other time." 
 
 Liver gave this explanation in rather an absent 
 manner. Evidently he had something on his mind. 
 Finally it came out. " Say ! " he exclaimed, as he 
 energetically banged the last plate on to the shelf, " I 
 seen Dawlish this evenin , an I talked to him some. 
 There wasn t no harm done." 
 
 Harm seemed to have come from Liver s quarrel, in 
 spite of his assertions to the contrary, for his nightly 
 visits to the Hypocrite s cabin became shorter, and 
 finally they stopped. 
 
 " Yes, it s Dawlish," said Liver, in reply to my in 
 quiry as to the reason of this change. "He s there 
 whenever I goes up t see the ol man, or if he ain t 
 there he comes in before I get fair sot down. They re 
 talkin together, them two, an when I come in they 
 
 172 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 stops, dead. I d know what s goin on, but Dawlish he s 
 been tryin everythin he knows fer a week, now, t get 
 in with th oP man, an he s doin it too. OP Reed he 
 don t mean ter give me no frost, an I don t care nothin 
 bout t other one, but it ain t very gay, somehow, so I 
 don t go there no more. What Dawlish is gettin at 
 licks me." 
 
 It licked me, too, and I found that the other inhabi 
 tants of Aparejo were equally puzzled as to the mean 
 ing of this sudden intimacy. Not that it lacked a 
 motive, for it was a very well known fact that the 
 Hypocrite had money coming to him every month 
 from somewhere, which money he must have saved. 
 The Hypocrite spent little except for liquor, and 
 liquor, such as it is in that country, is cheap. What 
 astonished us all was that Dawlish appeared to be 
 more or less successful in establishing himself in the 
 Hypocrite s favor. Dawlish was not at all the kind of 
 person one would think would attract that shy, retiring 
 old drunkard. In an amused sort of way the men 
 were all talking about the strange friendship, and 
 offering bets against Dawlish s success. These bets 
 were lost, for the intimacy grew day by day. Dawlish 
 was seldom in his former haunts ; his store was kept by 
 a deputy, or kept itself, just as it happened. 
 
 Suddenly Dawlish left town, dropping boastful but 
 mysterious hints, as he started for the railway-station 
 twenty miles away, of a sensation that awaited us on 
 his return. We all knew that he gloried in the curi 
 osity he had awakened, and that he would spare no 
 pains to increase the dubious prominence it gave him. 
 
 173 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Nevertheless, when, three days later, the rickety 
 Concord stage, joggling on its dusty thorough-braces, 
 rolled with complaining spokes and running-gear into 
 the town, most of Aparejo s inhabitants stood waiting 
 on the veranda of the ramshackle building, half un- 
 painted frame, half adobe, which we called a hotel. 
 
 As the stage stopped, Dawlish opened the door and 
 got out. He turned and spoke to some one within the 
 canvas body of the vehicle, then stood aside with a 
 grin, half-sheepish, half-triumphant, as a feminine 
 form appeared. As she saw the men congregated on 
 the steps, the woman hesitated and shrank back. 
 Dawlish spoke to her again, roughly this time. She 
 stepped out on to the box that served as a horse-block, 
 looked around at us with a quick glance of embarrass 
 ment, then dropped her eyes. She was very small and 
 very young, with a weak little face that would have 
 been pretty had it not been so thin and pinched. Her 
 thinness impressed one. It was emphasized by every 
 movement, as her scanty calico gown clung to the 
 slight bones of her frame. 
 
 Groping in the interior of the stage, Dawlish fished 
 from under the seat a shiny little black valise. He 
 handed it to the girl, and tucked her other hand under 
 his arm. Then he took off his hat and made a sweep 
 ing bow to us all. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said, " this here lady s my wife, 
 Mrs. Dawlish." The pair walked a few steps up the 
 road, then Dawlish turned and faced us once more. 
 " Likewise this lady s the gran dahter of our prominent 
 feller-citizen what lives over on the hill yander, where 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 we intend takin up our residence. You needn t none 
 er you bother to call. We don t care f er no visits yet 
 awhile." Turning again, Dawlish led the way toward 
 the Hypocrite s cabin, and the girl followed him. 
 
 The situation was pretty thoroughly canvassed be 
 fore the men parted that evening. A little indigna 
 tion was expressed, and a good deal of amusement. 
 When they finally dropped off, one by one, there was 
 a generally expressed belief that Dawlish could not 
 keep himself long away from the surroundings he 
 loved. Though he seldom gambled, the faro-room, 
 with its rough bar and attendant atmosphere of stale 
 liquor and flies and smoke, was all he knew or cared 
 for. His idea of happiness was to pose as the leader 
 of the company he found there. If he had any notion 
 of heaven, it was probably the same kind of thing, 
 somewhat amplified. 
 
 The Palace Richie s place was the principal sa 
 loon of the town, and here, early on the next after 
 noon, Dawlish appeared. Dawlish had money now, 
 and began to spend it freely, but still he could not 
 attain the state of leadership to which he aspired. 
 Many of the men held aloof from him. Dawlish said 
 that it was from envy, and as far as his own former 
 friends were concerned he may have been right. To 
 his companions Dawlish made no pretence that his 
 assertions of his wife s relationship to the Hypocrite 
 were true. It would have been useless if he had, for 
 no one would have believed him ; but Dawlish had a 
 stronger reason than that for his frankness : had the 
 story been true, he could not have boasted that his 
 
 175 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 present fortune was the direct result of his Own ex 
 traordinary cleverness, and his enjoyment of the for 
 tune would, in a large measure, have been lost to him. 
 
 In a day or two Dawlish s circle of friends had con 
 tracted noticeably. He had still a following, it is true, 
 and would continue to have as long as the money lasted 
 and he was willing to spend it j but the following was 
 small, and was not made up of the men in whose eyes 
 he would wish to find favor. As his friends fell away, 
 the sentiment against him grew stronger. A rumor 
 that Dawlish ill-treated his wife alienated many who 
 would merely have laughed at his deception of the 
 Hypocrite. There was a good deal of talk as to what 
 should be done about it, and, as usual in such cases, 
 nothing was done. 
 
 Indeed, as far as the Hypocrite was concerned, there 
 seemed to be no excuse for outside interference at 
 first. No harm was done to the old man, as far as we 
 could see, except for the money that Dawlish spent, 
 and that, probably, was given to Dawlish voluntarily. 
 Even Liver owned, rather reluctantly, that the old 
 man had never before appeared so happy. For hours 
 at a time he would wander about the country with his 
 newly found granddaughter. When she was out of his 
 sight he was uneasy and troubled until she returned. 
 
 The girl, on her part, certainly seemed to return this 
 affection in full. In the opinion of the camp, no blame 
 attached itself to the girl. Individual opinion differed 
 only as to whether she was coerced into playing her 
 part, or was herself deceived. Certainly she seemed 
 to return the Hypocrite s affection in full. When she 
 
 176 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 was with him her manner was very different than 
 when her husband accompanied, spoke, or even looked 
 at her. She attended to the old man s wants in a man 
 ner to which he must have been a stranger for years. 
 
 But the Hypocrite s hoards could not stand for long 
 this drain upon them. It became known that the old 
 man had asked for credit at one of the stores, a thing 
 which he had never done before. Dawlish began to 
 gamble, and lost considerably, and the talk about him 
 became louder and more serious. The men were not 
 at all amused now. Dawlish s conduct, they said, dis 
 graced the camp. A more severe comment on this 
 conduct could hardly have been made. They wanted 
 Liver to warn the old man of his danger. 
 
 For some time Liver held back. Though he did not 
 tell me, I knew that he felt keenly the Hypocrite s de 
 fection from his former friendship. Finally, however, 
 the many persuasions prevailed, and Liver made the 
 attempt. 
 
 Liver said nothing of his intention to me, but I saw 
 him go up to the old man s house, and from the fact 
 that he did not return to get supper I inferred that 
 his mission had met with some success. Liver re 
 turned at last, with a half -apology for having omitted 
 my supper. The extreme importance of his errand 
 was the ground of the explanation. 
 
 "Yer see, some er the boys was dead anxious fer 
 me tf give th ol man a steer bout what he s runnin 
 agains , so I did," said he. "Well, 7 twarn t no great 
 good. I feared I d get it in the neck. He ups an 
 tells me ter min my own business, an then he jumps 
 
 i 77 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 me fer lis nin ter them scan lous stories. Scan lous, 
 he said they was, an somethin else, too. Oh, yes- 
 malicious. Scan lous an malicious stories that s 
 what he said. He tol me that Dawlish was Mary s 
 that s the name er the girl was Mary s husband, an 
 t wasn t no man s business but his what Dawlish done. 
 Then he gets kinder sorry fer havin spoke so rough, 
 an tells me not ter min him bein put out. Says the 
 trouble he s had bout this racket has made him cranky. 
 S pose he means the shake-ups the other boys has been 
 givin him. Then he daddies along like he always 
 does, tellin me what a dead fine girl Mary is. Says I 
 mus come home with him fer supper. I don t wanter 
 go, but th ol man says it ain t no square deal if I 
 don t. Says I believed things I hear, an oughter be 
 willin t go n see fer myself. Tain t much of er 
 supper, but Mary say, she s a dead fine girl fer fair. 
 We was gettin on all right when in comes Dawlish. 
 He s a little full, prob ly, an he growls at the girl, an 
 she kinder goes down into herself, rattled. Then he 
 asks me what I m doin there. I couldn t answer 
 before ol man Reed he jumps him fer fair. This 
 gen leman s my guest, says he. i You ll please re 
 member that this is my house. You ferget yerself. 
 That s what he said. You ferget yerself . How s that 
 ferth ol man?" 
 
 " Did you say anything to Dawlish, Liver ? " I asked. 
 
 " No. I didn t wanter have no fight, not in there ; 
 so I says good night, an when I come out I get close 
 to Dawlish an tell him I ll wait fer him outside, down 
 in the arroyo below, where nobody can t hear no 
 
 178 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 shootin nor nothin . I wait, but lie don t come, so I 
 mosey along down here." 
 
 Liver s idea of an argument was so alarming that I 
 made up my mind to keep a closer watch of his move 
 ments than I had been in the habit of doing. His 
 evenings were his own, and the use to which he seemed 
 likely to put this leisure would not be conducive to his 
 health or longevity. For some time after my long- 
 delayed supper, Liver made no attempt to go out. 
 At length, after I had come to the conclusion that he 
 intended to stay at home that evening, he gave me the 
 slip and vanished. I knew where to go as I hurried 
 out in search of him. Undoubtedly he was looking 
 for Dawlish, and Dawlish, I was sure, would be in the 
 Palace saloon. 
 
 The Palace was not crowded that night. The pay 
 day of the mining companies was nearly due, so the 
 men, most of them, were short of money. The bar 
 had but a thin line of men standing before it. One 
 faro-table was running for the accommodation of three 
 or four "pikers," who were languidly laying small sums 
 on the painted cards. A little distance away Dawlish 
 was holding loudly forth to a knot of his friends. 
 " He s flush to-night," somebody informed me as I en 
 tered. "The Hypocrite s allowance come to-day, an 
 Dawlish he got the check cashed over to the post- 
 office." Certainly Dawlish seemed to be on good 
 terms with himself. He strolled over to the table, 
 placed a bet, rather a heavy one, and lost it. " It s 
 all luck," he said, with a laugh, as he relaid the 
 wager. 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Liver was leaning over the table, watching the play 
 as though faro was something of a novelty to him. As 
 Dawlish lost his bet, Liver looked up quickly, then 
 dropped his eyes, and observed to no one in particu 
 lar : " When a fool plays like er fool, he s got ter have 
 consid able fool s luck if he s go n ter come out any 
 ways even." 
 
 Some of the men laughed. Dawlish glowered, but 
 said nothing at the time, only watched the cards as the 
 dealer drew them from the box. His second wager 
 was successful, and he turned to Liver with a self- 
 satisfied grin, which he afterward distributed im 
 partially around the room. 
 
 " That s the kind er luck what I was talkin about," 
 remarked Liver. 
 
 Again the men laughed their approval. Dawlish 
 angrily asked Liver what in something he knew about 
 it ; whereupon Liver replied saying that any one could 
 tell what to call such a play as Dawlish had made, 
 whether he knew the game or not. Dawlish lost an 
 other bet, and Liver chuckled derisively. He offered 
 to deal a game for Dawlish himself, give him odds, and 
 waive all advantage of splits. Dawlish did not seem 
 inclined to accept this offer at first. Probably he 
 thought that it placed him in rather a ridiculous light. 
 But the loudly expressed sentiment of the company 
 was unanimous, and Dawlish, of all men, could not 
 stand against that. Besides, the odds were all in his 
 favor. At last he gave a reluctant assent. 
 
 The men who had been playing hurriedly cashed 
 their chips or pocketed them ; at a signal from Richie 
 
 1 80 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 the dealer laid down his box and rose, and with a 
 happy little sigh Liver sank into the vacant seat. 
 The men clustered thickly about the table, peering 
 over one another s shoulders in order to get a better 
 view. 
 
 Slipping the cards deftly from the deal-box, Liver 
 divided them into two equal parts for a shuffle. The 
 movement spoke of experience; Dan looked at the 
 dealer, and they both smiled. Liver saw that smile. 
 As he started to run the cards together they fell on 
 the table ; half of them faced. He picked them up and 
 awkwardly shuffled them, taking a long time about it. 
 After fumbling with the box he handed it and the 
 shuffled pack to the dealer, who secured the cards in 
 their place and returned them. 
 
 Once more Dan grinned knowingly. " I ll take the 
 lookout chair for the kid myself," he said. 
 
 Then Liver began to deal. It was wonderful, that 
 deal, but it was most immoral. I felt that I ought to 
 stop it, but I could see no way to go about it without 
 exposing Liver s former avocation, and that I had 
 promised not to do. Liver was very clumsy, rather 
 overdid it, I thought, but no one appeared to notice 
 anything wrong. Once in a while Dawlish would win 
 a bet. Then Liver would moisten his thumb, labori 
 ously drag a card from the box, and win it all back 
 again. He had perfect control of the cards; his 
 clumsy, long-continued shuffle seemed to have given 
 him just the opportunity he needed. Several times 
 Dawlish hesitated and seemed about to stop ; but the 
 men jeered, and he continued playing. Finally he 
 
 181 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 felt in his pocket, but there was no money there. 
 With an oath he flung his last two chips on the ace. 
 The ace lost, and the play was ended. 
 
 With a broad smile covering most of his counte 
 nance, Liver rose from his seat. " Beckon this bout 
 does you," he remarked to Dawlish, affably. " I 11 
 keep this yer boodle fer th oF man, so him an 
 Mary they won t have ter hang up fer their eatin 
 er starve when you go through him fer all he s got. 
 See?" 
 
 At first Dawlish looked puzzled, then he got angry. 
 " That there was a brace game, then," he cried. 
 
 " Sure," assented Liver, genially. 
 
 The men roared. Dawlish was furiously angry. 
 His chin quivered, and he convulsively opened and 
 closed his fists. Though his lips moved, no audible 
 sound did he utter. He dared not take the offensive 
 against Liver in that place. Such a move would have 
 entailed a risk to which Dawlish was not inclined. 
 Several of his followers gathered about him. One 
 or two of them were Mexicans. Liver did not like 
 Mexicans. 
 
 " So long, Dawlish," said he, stuffing into his trousers 
 pockets the gold coins he had won. " Eun along, now, 
 ith them greaser frien s er yours, if they ll have you. 
 You re pretty low down, though, even fer a greaser, 
 an no man can t say no more than that." 
 
 One of the Mexicans raised his hand, and a knife 
 flashed across the room like a gleam of light. Liver 
 staggered back, stumbled, and fell. At the same mo 
 ment half a dozen shots filled the room with smoke 
 
 182 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 and darkness, for every light went out instantly. I 
 dropped to the floor. Pistol-shots were winking every 
 where, it seemed to me, their flashes growing fainter 
 and redder as the smoke increased in thickness. 
 From where Liver lay, his six-shooter sparkled like a 
 firefly in the grass. 
 
 Hurrying footsteps crunched on the broken mdlpai 
 of the road outside. No one entered the door, it is 
 not customary to enter doors in Arizona when powder- 
 smoke is coming out of them, but the canvas sides of 
 the saloon were ripped with knives, and the fresh air 
 rushed into the room, dissipating the choking fumes 
 that filled it. The shooting had stopped. Some one 
 struck a match and relighted the great lamp that 
 hung over the faro-tables. The flies that had been 
 disturbed by the noise settled once more, blackening 
 the canvas roof with their countless thousands. 
 
 It was really wonderful what a wreck the shooting 
 had made of that room. Everything, apparently, that 
 could be damaged by a bullet had been found by one. 
 As usual, each man had thrown himself flat on the 
 ground and then fired on the assumption that his 
 neighbors were standing. No one was hurt except 
 Liver. He lay on the floor, white and still, his empty 
 pistol still gripped in his hand. 
 
 Some of the men gathered around Liver. The rest 
 made a rush for the Mexican, but he had disappeared. 
 We never saw him again. At the time we regretted 
 this considerably, but looking at it from his stand 
 point, probably it was better as it was. 
 
 For some time we could not bring Liver back to 
 
 183 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 consciousness. I began to get frightened about him, 
 though Dan assured me that nothing serious was the 
 matter. " Somebody give him a tunk on the cabeza 
 with the bar l of a six-shooter, that s all," said he. It 
 struck me at the time that such a " tunk " might be 
 quite serious enough in itself, but doubtless Liver had 
 escaped very fortunately, for the knife, in passing 
 through his clothing, had not even grazed the flesh. 
 It must have turned, and knocked him down by the 
 blow it struck. 
 
 Finally Liver came to. His first conscious act was 
 to replace his pistol in its holster. Then he tried to 
 stand, and discovered that he had turned his ankle in 
 falling, and that it was badly sprained. We carried 
 him home and put him to bed after that. I cannot 
 say that I was wholly sorry for that sprained ankle 
 it might serve to keep him quiet for a while. 
 
 Liver was feverish and restless that night ; he tossed 
 about in his sleep, muttering, from time to time, dis 
 connected scraps of sentences. I was very tired, and 
 at last, without undressing, I lay down. I must have 
 fallen immediately into an unusually sound sleep, from 
 which I was awakened by cries that seemed to me to 
 have been repeated for hours. Gradually I realized 
 that dawn had just come, that Liver was calling to 
 me, and that some one was knocking wildly at the 
 door. It was Mary, Dawlish s wife, who knocked. 
 
 " Come up quick ! " she cried, as I opened the door, 
 and, but half awake, stood stupidly gazing at her. 
 "He s killin him the old man. Dawlish my man 
 is killin him. He s half drunk, an wild about some 
 
 184 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 money he lost. Maybe he s killed him already. Oh, 
 do hurry, quick ! " 
 
 She turned and fled down the road. Evidently she 
 was rousing the town. I hurriedly buckled on my 
 pistol and spurs. Liver was sitting up in bed and 
 pulling his shirt on as I started to leave, and I stopped 
 and ordered him to lie down again, pointing out to him 
 the fact that he could not even bear his foot in a 
 stirrup, much less on the ground. 
 
 " Take me onter the veranda an set me down, then," 
 he pleaded. "I won t move honest. Not one 
 wiggle. Twon t take no time. I ll go up ter the oF 
 man s cabin if y don t I ll crawl the whole way. 
 Take me out onter the porch ! " 
 
 It was the only way to keep him still, so I wrapped 
 a blanket around him and picked him up. A rifle 
 was leaning against the wall, and as we passed it 
 Liver grasped the barrel and dragged it out behind him 
 as I carried him forth, its butt dragging on the floor. 
 
 Richie was standing before my door, holding his 
 horse and mine, both of them saddled. "Knowed 
 you d hev ter look out fer the kid before you started," 
 he explained. " You ll want yer hoss, so I shoved yer 
 leather on." 
 
 I had laid Liver down, and thanking Dan, I swung 
 into the saddle. 
 
 As I rode away, I glanced at Liver, who was ex 
 amining the rifle. " It s all right," he sung out ; " the 
 magazine s plum full." He waved his hand, and 
 availing myself of the permission he implied, I de 
 parted. 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Red Hen Hill was separated from the rest of Aparejo 
 by a deep box canon. The head of this canon was 
 doubled by the road, so that in order to reach the 
 Hypocrite s house, only about two hundred and fifty 
 yards away in a direct line, one had to travel nearly 
 three miles. Around this trail many horsemen were 
 already galloping. Dan and I followed, finally join 
 ing the group of men who sat on their horses about 
 the Hypocrite s door. One of the older men, who 
 knew something of surgery in a rough way, came 
 out of the cabin as we pulled up. 
 
 " Yes, the Hypocrite s alive just alive. I ll do all 
 I kin fer him. You go an get that Dawlish man. 
 Beat up the country. He ain t got far." 
 
 The men scattered like the pieces of a bursting 
 shell. Some of them forced their horses up the steep 
 sides of the hill some returned to scour the flat land 
 around the camp. The rest of us went along the road 
 that led by the Hypocrite s door, hoping to gather 
 some information from the scattered settlers who 
 lived along its length. 
 
 " That cuss can t be fur off," said Richie, who was 
 riding by my side. "The gal come round by the 
 road, an the first boys that started off must a got 
 here bout the time Dawlish finished with the poor 
 ol galoot. Dawlish must a taken to the hills, or else 
 we ll strike him som w er s along this road we re on. 
 Reckon he did, fer the Lord! what s that?" 
 
 " That " was a bullet a rifle-ball. It sung over our 
 heads, and we could hear it strike with a faint plop 
 of flattening lead somewhere on the rocks made in- 
 
 1 86 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 visible to us by the overhanging cliffs above. The 
 report followed as a feeble pop from across the canon. 
 Another ball came whining over. I looked across the 
 canon at the house I had just left. A puff of pearly 
 smoke hung in front of my veranda and dissolved, 
 followed by the shrill note of a third bullet. Evi 
 dently Liver was shooting, and it was hardly sup- 
 posable that he was shooting without having a reason 
 for it. It occurred to me that he might have seen the 
 man we were after, when there was a shout from one 
 of the men who had ridden up the hill from below. 
 A couple of shots followed ; then some stones rolled 
 down the steep face of the rock, and Dawlish followed 
 them, landing on his feet in the middle of the road, 
 not twenty yards in front of us. 
 
 He glanced up and down the trail. His face was 
 drawn and set with hopeless fear for his forfeited life. 
 I had never before seen such a face 5 certainly I wished 
 I might never see another. Above and on both sides 
 his path was blocked ; his only clear way was the sheer 
 descent into the canon. It was hardly a chance, but 
 such as it was he took it from both sides men were 
 riding to take him. Springing across the road, he 
 swung himself over the edge of the cliff. For one 
 moment we could see a hand grasping a point of rock, 
 then it shifted its hold and disappeared, and a chorus 
 of pistol-shots rattled out. One man slid from his 
 horse, and disengaging the lariat from his saddle, 
 extended the loop, and leaning over the cliff, swung 
 the lass-rope for a cast. Two more shots came from 
 my veranda. 
 
 187 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Suddenly the firing ceased. The man with the rope 
 stopped his hand in mid-swing, and the loop wound 
 itself around his upraised arm. For an instant there 
 was a dead silence, then I heard a faint splash in the 
 waters of a little stream that ran through the bottom 
 of the canon. 
 
 Dan dismounted, and going to the edge of the cliff, 
 he peered down. Then he climbed to his horse s back, 
 and without a word started at a lope toward the vil 
 lage. 
 
 " Do you think he was hit, Dan ? " I asked. 
 
 " Dunno," he answered shortly ; then, after a pause, 
 he added : " Guess we won t never know now. It was 
 two hundred and thirty foot, clear fall." 
 
 We went on in silence, and had nearly reached the 
 end of our journey when Dan spoke once more. 
 "That was damn bad shootin ," he said. " There s 
 enough played-out balls stuck around on that mesa- 
 face to salt a young lead-mine." 
 
 Dan turned off in the direction of his saloon, and 
 I pushed on for home. 
 
 Liver had crawled into the house, and as I entered 
 it he was sitting, with a very white face, on the edge 
 of the bed, still nursing the rifle on his knee. 
 
 " I seen it all," he called out as I came in. " You 
 can t none of you tell me nothin about it. I seen him 
 before you did." 
 
 From this speech I gathered that Liver did not 
 wish to discuss the recent occurrence. His nerves 
 were a little shaken, I think. 
 
 I got him to relinquish the rifle and to lie down, 
 
 188 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 and for a long time he said nothing, but kept his face 
 hidden in his folded arms. After a while he looked up. 
 
 " I reckon I must a missed that ther* Dawlish," he 
 said, with a regretful sigh. 
 
 I told him that nobody would ever know now 
 whether he had or not. 
 
 "I reckon I missed him/ 7 Liver repeated sadly. 
 " He dropped jus as I fired the las time, an I saw 
 where the bullet struck that I fired before that." 
 
 Liver seemed to take it very much to heart. I tried 
 to cheer him, saying that, whether he had missed or 
 not, his shooting was really very creditable, at that 
 range and at a moving object. He listened absently, 
 and seemed trying to wrestle with something that was 
 on his mind. 
 
 " I say how s th oP man now ? " he asked finally. 
 At last it was out. 
 
 I had not thought to tell him of the Hypocrite s 
 condition, and he had not dared to inquire for fear of 
 the answer that might follow. I made the answer as 
 encouraging as I could, but it did not seem to com 
 fort him any. 
 
 " Twas all my fault ! " he cried, his face full of 
 trouble, as he raised himself on his elbow to look at 
 me. "Dawlish done it cause I made him mad. I 
 could jus as well a plunked im ter start with instead 
 er workin that faro lay-out ; only I s afraid it d queer 
 me ith th ol man. I d oughter a done it." 
 
 Liver s contrition was hardly following the proper 
 lines. I spoke to him rather sharply, and at length 
 managed to get him quiet. He said scarcely a word 
 
 189 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 the rest of the morning. Now and then, as one of the 
 men would drop in and give us some news of the Hypo 
 crite, Liver would ask a question or two, but that 
 was all. 
 
 The reports of the Hypocrite s condition were all 
 much the same. He was still alive, but whether he 
 was conscious or not, no one could tell. " He jus lies 
 thar lookin at that gal," said Dan, who brought in 
 most of the reports. " She ain t never left him, an 
 he ain t took his eyes off her, not once. Don t reckon 
 the poor oP cuss l last long." 
 
 Late in the afternoon a message came. The Hypo 
 crite had rallied somewhat. He was conscious now, 
 and had asked for Liver wanted to see him. For a 
 time they had put him off, thinking that the wish 
 was merely the wandering of semi-delirium j but he 
 had returned to it with such persistence that it was 
 thought best to humor him. I hardly liked to have 
 Liver go, in his condition ; already there had been far 
 too much excitement. I could see no way out of it, 
 however. To keep him would have been much the 
 worse of the two courses, even leaving the Hypocrite 
 entirely out of the question. 
 
 A rough litter was soon made and Liver carefully 
 laid upon it. Four men, with many more to act as 
 relays, carried him up the trail. Then I went down 
 into the village to get rid of myself for a while. I had 
 had enough of horrors for one day. 
 
 It was still light when I returned. Though I had 
 not expected Liver for some time yet, he was lying on 
 the bed when I came in. 
 
 190 
 
Liver s Responsibility 
 
 " Here," lie said, as lie saw me, handing to me as lie 
 spoke a folded paper, " take it. He said you was to 
 have it. Said you d know what to do with it. It s 
 settlin everythin about Mary me, too, he says. Says 
 he wants me ter look out fer her wants me ter go 
 ter school, too. Reckon he was a little daffy then. 
 This paper, here, it tells all about it. Th oP man he 
 talked quite a while ; then he give me the paper an 
 stopped talking an when I looked ter see what was 
 up, he d well, he d gone out, that s all." 
 
 Liver s hand was trembling, and he looked at me 
 with an air that was evidently intended to be most 
 indifferent, and, except for the twitching corners of 
 his mouth, he really did it very well. 
 
 What followed was not at all like Liver. For some 
 time he sat looking at me ; then he said, in a voice that 
 he tried to keep steady : " Say, d yer know, he was an 
 awful good ol man. Dead square, all through. He 
 was awful white to me." 
 
 Liver s mouth twitched more and more. Suddenly 
 throwing himself face downward on the bed, he broke 
 down entirely, and cried like a child, as he was. 
 
 191 
 
STATION 347 +57- 6 
 
STATION 347 + 57- 6 
 
 STANDING on a little bald excrescence of a hill, young 
 Powers, the assistant engineer in charge, waited 
 for his men. Powers was hot and dry and hun 
 gry. No food, however, was to be had until the corps 
 should have come up, and though the men were work 
 ing toward the long red-and- white pole that Powers 
 had stuck into the summit of the hill, as men do work 
 when their overdue dinner is at the end of their labors, 
 some time must elapse before they could reach the 
 knoll. This made Powers cross, as well. To the north 
 and south, as far as the eye could reach, and a thou 
 sand miles farther, stretched the yellow desert of 
 southern Arizona, split into halves by the green valley 
 of the Gila. The engineer looked wearily over the 
 dismal view. He turned to a cottonwood-tree to 
 which his horse was tied, leisurely slackened the 
 saddle-girths, and then sat down in the shade. 
 
 He could hear that the sounds of the working men, 
 which drifted faintly through the hot, still air, grew 
 plainer as the party neared him. Once they stopped 
 for a minute, and Powers heard the sharp report of a 
 pistol that roused in him, for an instant, a languid 
 
 195 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 interest. It was not repeated. Probably it was only 
 one of the boys shooting at a jack-rabbit, or a coyote, 
 or something. 
 
 Soon, followed by an axeman, Carter, the big head 
 chainman, toiled up the steep little rise, the chain 
 clanking behind him as he dragged it over the stone 
 of the hillside. 
 
 "Take off the plus, will you?" he shouted to his 
 mate on the other end of the chain. 
 
 " Three four seven plus five seven point six," came 
 in a monotonous drawl from where the rear chainman 
 was concealed in the scrub. 
 
 "Three four seven plus five seven point six," re 
 peated Carter. "Got it?" 
 
 The engineer nodded as he entered the figures in 
 his note-book. 
 
 " Say," Carter went on, " you know that horse-thief 
 what swiped them bronch s of Unc George Marden s, 
 don t you ? Him that the boys is out chasm ." 
 
 " Haven t the pleasure," murmured Powers, wearily. 
 
 " I don t mean that way Lord, no ! " cried the 
 literal Carter. " But you know there was a thief." 
 
 "I know that Harden lost some horses, or said 
 he did. There hasn t been anything else talked 
 about in the camp since they were missed. I m sick 
 of it." 
 
 " He s more sick of it when they ketch him, then," 
 responded Carter. "What I m sayin is" He in 
 terrupted himself in order to pull out the rod from 
 where it stuck in the ground. Then he marked a 
 stake to drive in its place. 
 
 196 
 
Station 347+ 57.6 
 
 " You were about to say ! " suggested Powers, 
 mildly. 
 
 " Yes. What I m sayin is that I shouldn t wonder 
 if that thief wasn t camped roun here som w er s. I 
 come along o two horses back there a ways. One had 
 croaked f er sure, and the other was just about makin 
 up his min ter quit, so I helped him out. Likely you 
 heard me shoot." 
 
 " I did. But what makes you think that the thief s 
 camped about here ? " 
 
 " Them horses. They was picketed ; that makes it 
 sure that somebody s here, where nobody wouldn t 
 have no call to be if ther* business was on the dead, 
 an them bein so killed up makes it seem prob le that 
 here comes the grub." 
 
 The big six-horse wagon crashed through the chap 
 arral, bearing the transit party and the food. A Mex 
 ican brush-cutter, his machete sheathed by his side, 
 and several axemen followed it. The seven horses 
 were quickly unbridled and fed. Throughout the 
 place there was a pleasant stir of preparation. Carter 
 went to the wagon and lifted out the two big boxes of 
 food with three five-gallon canteens piled on top of 
 them. Powers watched him admiringly. Though 
 neither small nor weak, he could not have begun to 
 do that. Then the stir settled to silence, as the men 
 devoted themselves to the food before them. 
 
 " I seen Red Willis an Gappy Lee early this fore 
 noon," said the back flagman, at last, speaking with 
 his mouth full. " They was shovin fer keeps across 
 the lower ford, hot foot after that ther hawse-thief. 
 
 i 97 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 The rest er the posse is comin down from above, 
 an they think they ve got him ketched between em. 
 Can t be much good in his business, stayin right aroun 
 here. Don t seem to have no savvy, somehow." 
 
 "What am I tellin you?" asked Carter, trium 
 phantly, of the engineer. "He s camped roun here, 
 an he stays here. Them dead hosses was his, 
 so he swipes them what belongs to Unc George 
 to make up his team. What s the matter with us 
 takin a hand after dinner an good Lord, what s 
 that?" 
 
 On the edge of the weedy thicket in front of him 
 there stood two children. The elder, a girl of seven 
 or eight years, held the hand of a boy just old enough 
 to walk alone. The men stared in genuine amaze 
 ment, turning around as they sat, or dodging forward, 
 in order to get a view unobstructed by the heads of 
 their neighbors. For a moment, seeing the sensation 
 caused by their advent, the children held bashfully 
 back, giving time for the men to notice that the 
 visitors were white children, and of a kind seldom 
 found on the frontier. They wore shoes and stock 
 ings, and their clothing was of good quality and 
 clean. Though the face of the boy was dirty, it was 
 as boys faces generally are ; the dirt was evidently of 
 a late deposit, and in itself was indicative of recent 
 washing. With many invitations, made as seductive 
 as was possible for the rough men who offered them, 
 the children were enticed over to where the engineer 
 corps was sitting. The small maiden scanned the 
 faces before her with deliberation and great gravity, 
 
 198 
 
Station 347+ 57.6 
 
 then walked around the circle of men to the big chain- 
 man and seated herself at his side. No one knew just 
 how to open a conversation, and an embarrassed 
 silence fell on the group. 
 
 " What do they like to eat ? " somebody asked. The 
 back flag suggested jelly. Bread-and-butter was 
 necessary as a foundation, the transitman said ; other 
 wise it would make them ill. 
 
 The engineer said that it would make them ill any 
 how. That was why they ate it ; it was so bad for 
 them. 
 
 As he spoke, he passed the suggested articles of 
 food to Carter, who seemed by tacit understanding to 
 be the official host, and two thick slices of bread, well 
 spread with butterine and piled high with the canned 
 jelly, were placed in the hands of the children. The 
 boy at once began to eat his slice, leaving, as he did 
 so, most of the jelly on the outside of his face. The 
 girl held hers untouched. Again an awkward pause 
 fell on the company. It was broken, at last, by the 
 small damsel. 
 
 " What s your name ? " she asked Carter. 
 
 Carter answered promptly and in full, as though he 
 were being examined by a lawyer. 
 
 " What s yourn?" he inquired, in return. 
 
 " Nan," she replied. Then she looked Carter care 
 fully over and remarked : " I like you." 
 
 The men laughed. Nan regarded them with looks 
 of grave displeasure. Carter flushed crimson, under 
 his tan, and the men laughed more than ever. To 
 cover his embarrassment the chainman asked Nan 
 
 199 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 why she didn t eat her bread-and- jelly. Didn t she 
 like it? 
 
 Yes, Nan liked bread-and- jelly more especially 
 jelly very much indeed. But she was keeping it, 
 she explained, until she could divide it with her 
 mother. On being assured that her mother would 
 also be supplied with as much jelly as she might care 
 for, Nan s attention at once became absorbed in the 
 piece that she held. 
 
 " Where is your mother, Nan ? " asked Powers. 
 
 Nan was too busy to speak, but she made a motion 
 with her head toward the direction from which she 
 had come. 
 
 " An yer pa, is he there, too ? n inquired Carter. 
 
 Nan shook her head. She could not answer more 
 fully just then, but as soon as articulate speech was 
 possible, she said that her father had gone away, but 
 was soon coming back. When did he go? It was 
 yesterday, the day before yesterday. Nan s friends 
 puzzled over this chronological statement for some 
 time. Finally Carter said : 
 
 " I figger it out that she meant about three days 
 gone. Jus about three days." 
 
 As he spoke, he looked narrowly at the engineer. 
 Powers could see how the chainman s mind was run 
 ning. It was three days since the horses had been 
 missed. 
 
 " You are wrong," said Powers in Spanish, in order 
 that the child might not understand. " Horse-thieves 
 do not travel about with their wives. Neither do they 
 have children like these children." 
 
 200 
 
Station 347-^ 57.6 
 
 "Quien sabef" replied the rodman. "Anyhow, this 
 ain t no place f er a woman alone with two kids. She 
 o lighter be at the big camp. Beckon I ll go over an 
 see f I can t be some good." 
 
 Powers looked uncertain as Carter left his place and 
 forced his way through the undergrowth that con 
 cealed the camp of the children s mother. In a few 
 minutes he returned, looking puzzled. 
 
 " I couldn t say nothin to er that was worth sayin ," 
 he said, in a low tone, to the engineer. " I told her 
 that Nan an t other kid was safe over here with us ; 
 an she said she knowed it, an don t let em bother us, 
 an sen em back soon, please, an thank you, an so 
 on, but the way she talked meant : You min yer own 
 business/ She was polite, though dead polite. She 
 wasn t like none er the women you ll fin aroun here. 
 But I couldn t say no more, somehow it was all in 
 the way she talked. But this ain t no place fer her. 
 Her camp s seen the kettle bottom, an they hadn t no 
 sort of a proper outfit to start on. I reckon you d 
 better go n try, Mr. Powers. Tell her any good lie 
 you c n think of. Them kids and her they can t stay 
 here." 
 
 Powers rose reluctantly. " We can t take the woman 
 by force," he said, dusting off his riding-breeches. " I 
 suppose you re satisfied now that your other notion 
 was off, aren t you ? " 
 
 " Quien sabe f " responded Carter. " But a]l the 
 same, they oughter not stay here." 
 
 Powers shrugged his shoulders and departed, fol 
 lowing the line of bent weeds that indicated the course 
 
 201 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 pursued by the chainman. The camp was much closer 
 than he had supposed ; he came upon it almost imme 
 diately. It was rather a comfortless little camp one 
 that told plainly of inexperienced hands. Its equip 
 ment was all new and expensive and unsuitable. In 
 the shadow of the badly pitched tent sat Nan s mother. 
 At first she did not hear Powers s approach, and her 
 back, as she sat, was toward him. It was a back 
 utterly out of keeping with its surroundings. Also, 
 the gown that covered it was both well fitting and 
 well made. Then she heard him and, rising, turned. 
 Her face, though pinched and worn, was young and 
 pretty. 
 
 Powers advanced a few steps and paused. The 
 woman looked at him with an air of well-bred surprise 
 as a lady into whose house some one had forced a 
 way might regard the intruder. Powers lifted his 
 hat. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he began awkwardly. " Your 
 little daughter came over to us just now and said that 
 you were alone in the camp here. It isn t safe. I don t 
 want to appear intrusive, but really, you ought not to 
 stay here." 
 
 " You re very kind," she rejoined coldly, " but my 
 husband is away, and expects to find us here on his 
 return. We shall go on then." 
 
 At one side of the little clearing, out of the woman s 
 sight, the men, who had followed Powers, were stand 
 ing in the edge of the brush. Carter held Nan, 
 perched on his shoulder. 
 
 " You can leave a note for your husband, pinned to 
 202 
 
Station 347 + 57.6 
 
 that tree, where he can t help but find it," urged the 
 engineer. "We ll take all the things you want up 
 to the home camp, and you ll be quite safe there. All 
 manner of things might happen if it was known that 
 you were here alone, and it must become known, 
 sooner or later. Your husband has been detained, 
 somehow. Why, it may be days before he comes back ; 
 weeks, possibly." 
 
 The woman looked troubled. l i He should have been 
 back before this," she said doubtfully. "When he 
 went away he said that he would only be gone one day, 
 or two at most. It s four days now. Our horses got 
 ill, and one of them died, and he went to get others." 
 
 There was a stir among the men; they looked at 
 one another and shook their heads. Carter lifted Nan 
 in his arms. Even Powers now had little doubt that 
 Nan s father and the horse-thief were the same j there 
 fore he redoubled the urgency of his plea. Something 
 in his face must have showed that all was not right. 
 Wriggling to the ground, Nan ran to her mother, who 
 rested one hand on the child s shoulder. A twig 
 snapped under the foot of the transitman ; the 
 woman heard it and turned. She saw the men look 
 ing at her with curiosity or pity. Again she turned 
 her eyes on Powers, who flushed under her gaze. 
 
 "Has anything happened?" she asked. "Do you 
 know anything that has happened to him ? Tell me, 
 quick ! Is anything wrong ? " The hand that rested 
 on Nan s shoulder clinched and opened convulsively 
 as she was speaking. Powers, confused, hesitated for 
 a moment, then shook his head. 
 203 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " No ; I know nothing about him," he answered. 
 
 Her mouth twitched in spite of her attempts to 
 control it. Suddenly she broke down under the strain. 
 Covering her face with her hands, she sank on the 
 camp-stool from which she had just risen, and began 
 to cry hysterically. 
 
 " They ve taken him," she gasped between her sobs. 
 " They must have taken him ! You know they have, 
 and you won t tell me. That s why you look at me 
 so. If they haven t taken him, why isn t he here? 
 And we came so far ! " 
 
 Powers stood helpless and embarrassed. There 
 was a little murmur of sympathy from the men, but 
 one of the axemen remarked audibly : 
 
 " Sure, it s none so far they ve come. She seems to 
 be on to the whole" He got no further with his 
 speech, for Carter prodded him into silence. Powers 
 violently fanned himself with his pith helmet. 
 
 "I hope you ll believe me when I say I don t 
 know anything about your husband, one way or an 
 other," he said, as the paroxysm partially wore itself 
 out, and the woman became somewhat more calm. 
 " I haven t heard of his being taken never heard that 
 there was such a man until now. At all events, no 
 one had taken anybody when we left the camp this 
 morning. Is his accuser around here anywhere ? " 
 
 She was still crying, and her answer seemed half 
 
 mechanical : " No. Back in , back where we came 
 
 from. They said he took money that belonged to the 
 firm. But he didn t oh, he didn t ! " Nan was cry 
 ing, too, her face hidden in her mother s skirts. Step- 
 
 204 
 
Station 347 + 57.6 
 
 ping forward, Carter touched her gently, but Nan 
 wiggled her shoulder in a way that indicated a desire 
 to be left alone. The men had gradually drawn 
 nearer, making a ring around the woman and Powers. 
 
 Suddenly the Mexican brush-cutter sprang away 
 from the group, and appeared to listen intently. 
 
 " What s wrong ? " asked Powers. 
 
 " Escuche e en!" screamed the Mexican, motion 
 ing for silence. 
 
 From the direction of the home camp, four miles 
 away, came the faintly shrill blast of a steam- whistle. 
 Another blast followed it, and still another. Then 
 there was a pause, and the whistle began again. The 
 engineer counted each distant scream as it floated 
 down the river valley : " One, two, three, four, five, six." 
 
 As though the last were a command, the men scat 
 tered, plunging through the undergrowth to the noon 
 day camp they had just left. Powers turned to the 
 woman. 
 
 " There s no time to waste; you must come with 
 us, and come now. There s danger of some kind I 
 don t know what. That was the signal that whistle. 
 Come ! " The woman hesitated. There was a shim 
 mering crash over the high, black cliffs on their east, 
 followed by a low, crashing roar. 
 
 "The Wolfeley s gone out the dam and the 
 water s coming down," continued Powers, sharply, 
 " down on us ! Come away ; do you hear ? " 
 
 Confused by the sudden alarm, the woman looked 
 about her helplessly. Carter came crashing through 
 the brush. " This ain t no time to talk," said he, and 
 205 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 picking up the woman, who still held Nan in her arms, 
 he ran quickly back with his double burden. 
 
 The horses had scented the danger, as horses will, 
 and were plunging furiously, as many hands, to an 
 accompaniment of oaths and sounding blows, buckled 
 and hooked with fear-inspired celerity. The Mexican, 
 saddling the engineer s horse with that readiness which 
 is the birthright of his race, mounted and started to 
 ride away. As he passed, Powers drew a pistol and 
 cocked and levelled it. Carter, who had carefully 
 placed Nan and her mother in the wagon, sprang 
 forward, and, lifting the Mexican from the saddle, 
 threw him heavily to the ground, where he lay 
 stunned. 
 
 " Push for the rise on the other side of the river," 
 Powers shouted to the driver. "This flat s three 
 miles wide." 
 
 The horses dug their toe-calks into the ground, as 
 the driver curled his long lash around their bodies ; 
 the wagon strained and creaked and slowly started, 
 the men climbing into their places as it went. After 
 handing the engineer his mount, Carter picked up the 
 unconscious Mexican, threw him into the moving 
 wagon, and vaulted after. 
 
 There was no time to look for a road. The team 
 forced its way in a labored trot through the under 
 growth, toward the river. Powers picked up a transit- 
 rod and broke it across his knee, retaining the thicker 
 end, then swung into the saddle and spurred after 
 the departing team. 
 
 It had reached the end of the chaparral when he 
 206 
 
Station 347 + 57.6 
 
 caught it, and was working across the muddy flat. 
 The whip was cracking like pistol-shots, and Powers 
 beat the lead-horses with his stick. They broke 
 into a lumbering gallop. 
 
 Half a mile above them the river made a sharp 
 turn. Around this turn there crept the point of a 
 wedge of water, so covered with debris that it looked 
 as though the river-bed itself were moving. 
 
 " That s the fore foot er the flood," remarked Carter, 
 calmly. "The river s twistin makes it come slant 
 wise like that. The bulk of it ll foller in a wave. 
 It s right roun the corner, there, an it ll ketch up 
 when it gets outer the straight. If it hits us we re 
 sure done. We ain t got no time to stop an take 
 tea." 
 
 The water in the narrow channel was running as 
 placidly as though all were as usuaL The wagon 
 plunged in and jerked out, then ran smoothly over 
 the level sand on the other side. A hundred yards 
 above a tongue of rock jutted into the river-bed. As 
 the toe of the flood reached this point the covering of 
 debris was arrested for a moment, and the water crept 
 out from under it as melted lead, when poured, creeps 
 from beneath its spread of dross. An instant later 
 water was swirling around the spinning wheels of the 
 wagon, and the horses, still galloping, were going 
 hock deep through the mud-thickened fluid. A dash 
 of spray, thrown high in the air, glanced over the top 
 of the cliffs, and around the bend above the fugitives 
 there came, with the speed of an express-train, a rus 
 tling, whispering terrace of water. 
 
 207 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 The ground sloped gently upward ; the water rose 
 rapidly, but the speed of the horses kept it from 
 greatly gaining. Ahead of them a steep bank had to 
 be climbed before they could reach the mesa trail 
 and safety. The lead-horses climbed the rise like 
 cats; the other two spans stuck, scrambling and 
 striving, on the face of the bank, held back by the 
 weight of the heavy wagon which hung to their 
 traces. Powers beat the leaders frantically; the 
 teamster had risen from his seat and, with the full 
 sweep of body and arm, was towelling the wheelers 
 with doubled thong. The wagon gained a little, 
 slipped back, and gained again. Several of the men 
 jumped to the ground and, working their feet into 
 the slippery clay of the bank, grasped the spokes and 
 tried to turn the wheels. Carter dropped over the 
 tail-board and braced his back against it, pushing 
 with all his enormous strength. The horses snorted 
 and struggled. The wagon gained a trifle. 
 
 Then, with a crashing roar, the wave rushed by. 
 It struck the rear end of the wagon, flooding and 
 lifting and turning it nearly at right angles with the 
 fore part. A floating log drove against a wheel, 
 ground itself aside, and struck Carter heavily on the 
 head, sweeping him down like one of the flecks of 
 yellow foam. The engineer wheeled his horse and 
 spurred down the bank, hoping that he might be able 
 to intercept the floating body, and arrived in time to 
 see Carter s drenched head appear above the surface 
 under the lee of a bowlder, close to the shore. By 
 the time Powers had reached him he was on land. 
 
 208 
 
Station 34.7 + 57.6 
 
 Blood was flowing from a cut on his forehead, and 
 he appeared dazed as he started, in a staggering run, 
 for the higher ground. Slipping loose a stirrup, 
 Powers thrust it into the chainman s hand, and partly 
 running, partly dragged, he made his way up the 
 slope. 
 
 For a moment, as the flood struck the wagon, it 
 had relieved the strain on the horses. The fore 
 wheels hung, undecided, on the edge of the bank, 
 then passed reluctantly over, and the panting team 
 dragged their load up the trail winding steeply, 
 through a rift in the cliffs, on to the mesa beyond, 
 out of reach of the still rising freshet. 
 
 On reaching the level mesa-land, the horses stopped 
 of their own accord. Nan s small brother lifted his 
 head from the arms of the transitman, where it had 
 been resting, also opened his mouth, from which 
 there presently issued a long, dry roar. It acted as 
 a relief on the overstrained nerves of the men, and 
 they broke into loud guffaws as, one by one, they 
 dropped from the wagon to the ground. Nan sat up 
 and, looking about her, smiled faintly. Her mother lay 
 in the bottom of the wagon, white, drenched, and still. 
 
 " Shut up that fool row, an help, can t you ? " cried 
 Carter, angrily, " This yere lady s swounded. Gimme 
 that canteen." 
 
 " She ll come around all right in a minute. Don t 
 let her see that bloody face of yours when she comes 
 to. It ll frighten her worse than ever," said Powers. 
 " Go and wash the cut, and tie it up. Here, take this," 
 extending, as he spoke, a handkerchief to the chain- 
 209 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 man. Carter felt of his head, and then looked won- 
 deringly at his reddened fingers. 
 
 U I didn t know I were hurt," said he. "How d it 
 come to be ? n 
 
 " Never mind. Go away/ rejoined the other, im 
 patiently. "Go and tie it up. She s coming to 
 don t you see ? " 
 
 The woman lifted her head, and then, with a sigh, 
 once more became unconscious. Powers was sprin 
 kling her face with water from a canteen. With 
 roughly expressed solicitude, the men gathered about 
 her. The roar of the little boy sank into a fright 
 ened whine ; Nan, also, began to cry. 
 
 " It s no use," said Powers, finally. " She won t come 
 out of it. Get in and push for home. Perhaps the 
 women can do something for her we can t, anyhow. 
 
 "She ain t drowned, nor yet she ain t hurt," said 
 Carter, climbing once more to his place. " Somethin s 
 dead wrong, fer sure. Maybe jus done up by the 
 scare, though. Whoop them plugs along, an let s 
 get home." 
 
 The horses started readily. The engineer had 
 mounted and was cantering alongside the wagon, 
 watching Carter as he bathed the forehead of the un 
 conscious woman. Still, she did not stir. 
 
 " Can t you get those horses along?" called Powers 
 to the teamster. " This is no funeral. Push them, I 
 say! I ll go on ahead and get things ready. You 
 keep moving." He bent forward and set his spurs. 
 His horse sprang away, passing out of sight behind 
 a point of rock. 
 
 210 
 
Station 347 + 57.6 
 
 As the party rounded the point of mesa that con 
 cealed the big construction camp. Powers was waiting 
 in the gorge of the trail, pointing toward a low stone 
 house near the cliff. One of the contractors lived 
 there, and the contractor s kindly-faced wife stood in 
 the doorway. The wagon whirled up to the house 
 and came to a stand. Carter slid to the ground, 
 holding in his arms the lifeless form of Nan s mother. 
 The two children were handed out, and, taking them 
 both, the contractor s wife followed Carter closely as 
 he passed into the house. 
 
 With solemn shakes of their heads, the men 
 watched the group as it disappeared, then descended 
 stiffly, one by one, and joined the crowd of their 
 fellows on the edge of the cliff, that formed, at this 
 point, one of the jaws of a canon through which the 
 river ran. Many questions were asked as to their 
 meeting with the flood, but the coming of the woman 
 and children, an event which ordinarily would \aave 
 thrown the camp into a fever of curiosity, was, to 
 Powers s great relief, passed over as an incident of 
 the day s adventures, and was suffered, for the time, 
 to rest. There had been too many casualties and 
 narrow escapes that morning to allow the people of 
 the camp to think of other things. Even the horse- 
 thief was temporarily forgotten. 
 
 A few feet below them rushed the water, roaring 
 and twisting through its narrow channel, and bearing 
 on its surface of fretted brown the trunks of trees, 
 brought from far above, and the bodies of drowned 
 cattle. Save for the long cableway which hung help- 
 21 I 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 lessly over the turbid stream, and the shattered re 
 mains of a pile-driver resting where it had been 
 thrown on a shelf of rock, the great works had disap 
 peared. Occasionally a heavy beam, wrenched from 
 the bolt that had held it to the now submerged piling, 
 would rise to the surface, throw half its length in the 
 air, and vanish down the stream. 
 
 Then the river began to fall. With a rapidity 
 second only to the rise, the water lowered its level. 
 It left on the black face of the cliffs a brown band of 
 silt, which turned, as it dried in the torrid sun, to a 
 light gray. Here and there, against corners of the 
 rock, it deposited confused piles of drift. Then some 
 of the higher hillocks on the broad flats below the 
 canon began to show their heads as islands. The 
 current became less rapid. A trail which wound 
 along the face of the mesa was uncovered, and along 
 this trail, presently, a man came slowly riding. His 
 horse was wounded; both the animal and his rider 
 wore the air of utter collapse, caused by long and 
 violent exertion. 
 
 " It s Cappy Lee," said some one" in the watching 
 crowd. " Lord, he s sure been up against it look at 
 him ! 
 
 Slowly the horseman made his way up the steep 
 path to the mesa. He was at once surrounded by 
 questioning men, and a dozen flasks were offered him. 
 He drank, and slid heavily from his horse, before 
 speaking. 
 
 "You don t go thinkin I went fer to take that 
 low trail, do you?" he said, in reply to a question. 
 
 212 
 
Station 347 + 57.6 
 
 " Well, I didn t. I was throwed there, me an the 
 horse, an we winned out on a place what was jus 
 above the rush. The rest is gone Barton an Joyce 
 an Willis. All gone. Seen em go, an couldn t do a 
 thing. The thief he s gone, too gone with em. His 
 legs was hobbled under the horse he was ridin , so he 
 couldn t help himself, nohow. But they couldn t none 
 of em help emselves." 
 
 As the man was speaking, he swayed on his feet and 
 was about to fall. Carter and the transitman helped 
 him to a seat against the shaded side of the stone 
 house. Some one began fanning him. 
 
 The contractor s wife appeared for an instant around 
 the corner of the house, beckoned to Carter, and van 
 ished. Carter followed her. 
 
 "Where did you take your man, :Lee?" asked the 
 transitman. 
 
 " Jus across the river, none so far from here," was 
 the reply. " Me an Reddy Willis ketched up to him 
 on the Agua Caliente road. He was ridin one er 
 them ponies what Unc George lost, without no saddle, 
 an he couldn t hardly stay on at a walk. He was the 
 man we was after, all right enough, but say : d yer 
 know I kinder felt sorry f er im ? He wasn t no kind 
 of a horse-thiefhe wasn t hardly a man. I tells him 
 to throw up his hands, an he don t seem to savvy what 
 I m givin him. He come from back East somewheres ; 
 I could see that stickin out a foot. Then I tells him 
 again to throw up his hands, an he pulls out one er 
 these ere little guns like you d hang on yer watch- 
 chain, an fires at me." 
 
 213 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 "Did lie hit you, Gappy?" some one asked. 
 
 " Naw ! " replied Cappy, smiling weakly. " Ain t 
 heard f om it yet, anyhow, if he did. I takes his gun 
 away, an Reddy he hits him a clip across the cabeza. 
 Say ! that galoot he begins to cry to cry ! He don t 
 say that he ain t took the horses, but he talks about 
 the disgrace, bein ketched, I reckon he means, an 
 says he wanted to pay fer em, only he couldn t. But 
 all the same he offers us the dust. Twice as much as 
 them crow-baits is worth, it was. I couldn t savvy his 
 lay, nohow. Said he didn t dare buy em. When we 
 wouldn t take his money, he cries some more, an talks 
 about his wife an kids. Reddy he gets dead soft, an 
 was jus about ready to take the stuff an turn im 
 loose, an I don t know as I d made much of a kick, 
 only jus then up comes Barton an Joyce. Barton 
 said that, seein he was sheriff, he d have to do his 
 duty. He always done that, Barton did. Then we 
 starts to come back here, an the flood ketches us. 
 We pushed fer all we was worth, all of us, but it 
 didn t do no good not to the others, anyhow. I see 
 Barton stoop out of his saddle to cut the thief s leg- 
 hobbles loose, an then the water came. That feller 
 he let jus one scream a scream like a wounded horse. 
 There ain t no thin worse than that. I went down 
 stream. I don t seem to recollect much about it, only 
 I stuck to the saddle, an bimeby me an the pony gets 
 chucked out five miles below, or thereabouts. I 
 winned out, an I come up here. I was crossin the 
 flat, down here a ways, an I sees Barton an the man 
 we d took an the pony he was a-ridin . Dead all 
 
 214 
 
Station 347+ 57.6 
 
 three of em dead. Barton s horse wasn t there, an* 
 Barton s hand was grippin the foot-hobble yet, an his 
 other was clinched roun his knife. I left em there 
 I couldn t do nothin else. They was jammed right 
 up agains one er you fellers stakes, an I pulled it up 
 an brung it along, so s you d know where to look. 
 Somebody oughter go out an bring em in quick, 
 before the coyotes before any thin happens. I d go, 
 only I m kinder done." 
 
 Several men started in the direction of the corrals. 
 Lee s saddle was lying on the ground near by, and to 
 its cantle was tied the stake. It was loosened and 
 handed to Powers, who glanced at the red chalk figures 
 which still showed legibly on its side. 
 
 " It s the last stake we put in to-day," he said. " Go 
 into the office and look at the map. They ll have 
 plotted the notes by this time. Take a couple of extra 
 horses with you when you go, and aparejos. No wagon 
 can reach there after this flood." 
 
 Powers walked slowly away, passing in front of the 
 house as the door opened and Carter emerged. Pow 
 ers stopped and waited. 
 
 " I reckon twas you she wanted when she sent out," 
 said Carter, as he approached the engineer. " Twas 
 about them kids. She wanted they should be sent to 
 their gran daddy if if so be she couldn t look out fer 
 ; em herself. She knowed how bad off she was, but we 
 didn t she must a been sick all along. She give me 
 her daddy s name, an the place where he lives. I put em 
 down. Here. Lord, how hot it is ! " Carter took off 
 his hat and drew his shirt-sleeves across his forehead. 
 
 215 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 "Well," said Powers, impatiently, "how is she 
 now?" 
 
 " Jus after that she well, kinder went off her head, 
 you know," continued the chainman. " Say, twas 
 say, twas awful ! She talked about her man. Said 
 at he said at he d surely come back fer her, an so 
 he d surely come." Carter paused and moistened his 
 lips with his tongue. 
 
 " He kept his word," said Powers shortly, pointing 
 to the stake which he still held. "He was found 
 there." 
 
 Carter took the stake and looked at it absently. 
 
 " Kept his word," he repeated mechanically. " She 
 said he would. An she said she d have to go an meet 
 him." 
 
 " And then f " asked Powers. 
 
 " Well, she well, she s gone, that s all." 
 
 216 
 
THE WIND WRAITH 
 
THE WIND WRAITH 
 
 BISCUIT CITY was booming. The two saloons were 
 overflowing with teamsters and mechanics and 
 hungry-looking, ill-clad men who had tramped 
 thither, or had beaten their way on the railroad, in 
 search of employment on the work that was about to 
 commence. Six- or eight-horse teams harnessed to 
 heavy wagons, each of which had a trail-wagon at its 
 back, filled the little plaza while they waited for their 
 loads. Others, already loaded, dotted the trail that 
 led from Biscuit City to the new camp at Dam Site, 
 seven miles away. 
 
 The station-agent was rushing distractedly about, 
 wildly confusing his way-bills and vouchers as he was 
 pursued and anathematized by the owners of the wait 
 ing teams. The agent was not accustomed to this 
 pressure of business. Until this day, his hardest work 
 had been to keep awake. 
 
 Biscuit City was a very small place. Its two saloons 
 
 and one store had been supported in a dormant life 
 
 principally by the leisurely little mining company that 
 
 owned the store, and which was scratching the earth 
 
 219 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 in a feeble sort of way on the banks of the Rio Gila, 
 four miles below our camp. The South Bank Placer 
 Company, it called itself. 
 
 For this sudden activity in the town the Maricopa 
 Irrigation Company was responsible. We of the en 
 gineer corps knew that, and fully realized our impor 
 tance. This was true of all of us, from the chief 
 engineer myself down to Liver, my personal at 
 tendant, who had nothing at all to do with the corps, 
 and who, therefore, had been giving himself more 
 airs than any of us. We were all rather young. 
 Except for a mine that had given out almost as soon 
 as I had tried to work it, this was my first charge as 
 chief ; and the experience of the other members of the 
 corps was less than mine. Even when the preliminary 
 surveys had been under way, we were constantly 
 reminded of our importance from the few inhabi 
 tants of the district, who regarded us as the forerun 
 ners of prosperity for their section of the country, 
 down to the people of the South Bank Company, who 
 were trying to get some of our land away from us, 
 who therefore hated us, and were hated by us most 
 cordially in return. Every one flattered us, directly 
 or indirectly. Now that the surveys had been com 
 pleted, and the materials and supplies for the beginning 
 of construction had actually arrived, our importance, 
 in our own eyes and in those of the others, was 
 trebled. 
 
 Early that morning, I had ridden over from our 
 camp to this little adobe-built village, together with 
 Liver, Bailey, my assistant engineer, and a Mexican 
 
 22O 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 corral-hand. Throughout the day we had labored 
 hard. The many things referred to me, all at once, 
 and the importunities of the men who were looking 
 for work, had reduced me, toward the last, to a state 
 of mind not very far removed from that of the station- 
 agent himself. 
 
 At last it was all finished. The station-agent took 
 time to stand still for a moment and grin in a dubious 
 sort of way at the confused mass of papers he held in one 
 hand, while with the other he wiped his reeking brow. 
 
 I had sent Liver to the store. Bailey, the Mexican, 
 and I walked our horses along the trail, waiting for 
 him to overtake us. It was a very warm day, even for 
 southwestern Arizona. The thermometer, carefully 
 sheltered, registered one hundred and eighteen de 
 grees. Bailey and I were flapping our hands uselessly 
 at the swarms of flies that buzzed about our heads and 
 clung persistently to our damp faces, while the Mexi 
 can, lolling in his cradle-like saddle, smoked one 
 crooked brown -paper cigarette after another with 
 every indication of satisfaction. 
 
 We had gone but a short distance when the sound 
 of a pistol-shot made me rein in my horse. Bailey, 
 who had opened his mouth to speak, closed it without 
 having said anything, and the Mexican threw away 
 his cigarette and gathered up his reins. Another 
 pistol-shot followed the first one closely. Then a cry, 
 some oaths in Spanish, and two more shots. 
 
 It was Liver s voice that had given that cry I 
 would know it anywhere. Wheeling our horses, we 
 started back in the direction from which we had come. 
 221 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Hardly were we away, however, when Liver appeared, 
 riding as though for his life. In his right hand he 
 held his pistol, and the sleeve which covered that arm 
 was stained with red in one place, and while we looked 
 the stain broadened and grew deeper. 
 
 " Don t go down there don t ! " cried Liver, as he 
 came abreast of us. "Come on this way ! Don t stop !" 
 
 Waving us on with his pistol, he darted ahead. 
 There was nothing for us to do but to follow. For 
 some distance we rode down the trail, flashing by 
 slowly moving freight- wagons on our way, and men 
 on foot, who sprang aside to let us pass, and who 
 gazed curiously at the stain on Liver s sleeve and at 
 the drawn pistol he still held in his hand. 
 
 Try as we might, we could not catch him. Liver 
 had chosen, as he always did, the fastest and worst- 
 tempered horse we possessed, and with Liver s weight 
 on his back Liver was but four feet eight in height 
 and had no flesh on his body worth mentioning the 
 animal had no difficulty at all in keeping well ahead 
 of us. I did not want to call to Liver while the 
 wagons or the men on foot were near, so I waited 
 until we came to a place where the road was empty 
 for half a mile or more. Then I asked him what the 
 matter was, and ordered him to stop. I had to call 
 several times before my command had any effect. 
 Finally, as though he had just heard me, he looked 
 around and checked his horse. His face showed a 
 fear that I had never seen there before, and I had seen 
 Liver in places where there would have been good 
 excuse for any amount of fear. 
 
 222 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 "How did you get hurt ? What are you running away 
 from ? " I asked, as we came close enough to speak. 
 
 Liver made no reply. 
 
 Some men were coming down the road, and with a 
 view of avoiding the questions he knew they would 
 ask, Bailey caught the bridle of Liver s horse and led 
 him in a canter away from the road behind a clump 
 of mesquit that was growing on the desert. 
 
 As we came to a stand, Liver looked carefully 
 around him. Seeing no one, he returned the pistol 
 to the holster on his hip. His hand was trembling 
 violently, and he made one or two false starts before 
 he finally got the weapon in its sheath. 
 
 " What s the matter with you ? " asked Bailey. 
 
 Liver moistened his lips before speaking. 
 
 " I reckon I m kinder rattled," said he at last. 
 
 " I should think you were. Who shot at you, Liver 1 " 
 I asked. 
 
 " Dunno," replied Liver, shortly. 
 
 " What do you mean 1 Was the shot fired by a man 
 you don t know, or didn t you see who fired it?" I 
 persisted. " Explain yourself, can t you ? " 
 
 " I mean I dunno whether twas a man or a woman, 
 or what," said Liver, slowly. "I dunno s I can ex 
 plain. You d laugh at me if I tried. But ther 7 ain t 
 nothin ter laugh at, jus as hard." 
 
 Whether there was anything to laugh at or not, 
 Liver s face showed that he was entirely serious. 
 Could I have believed such a thing of Liver, I would 
 have said that he was on the verge of hysterics. This 
 would be a thing to wonder at, for his sixteen-year-old 
 223 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 nerves were about as sensitive, ordinarily, as those of 
 an oyster. Bailey dismounted, and taking Liver s 
 arm, began to strip the sleeve from it. 
 
 " That ain t nothin ," said Liver, impatiently, trying 
 to draw his hand from Bailey s grasp. " That s only 
 a graze." 
 
 " Let Mr. Bailey see it," I ordered sharply. " You 
 go on with your story. Begin at the beginning and 
 tell us all that happened." 
 
 "Well, I s pose maybe I d better," agreed Liver, 
 after some thought. " If you laugh, I can t help it, 
 an whether you laugh or not, I mean ev ry word I say, 
 f er ev ry word is dead true. Well, I went up ter that 
 ther store like you tol me to. You mind that little 
 chromo what used ter run the place Squinny Peters ? 
 Well, he ain t there no more. There ain t no one there 
 when I go in, an I wait quite a time when in waltzes 
 a woman. She ain t much ter look at, but she ain t 
 the sort er woman you see roun here. She s your 
 kin yours an Mr. Bailey s. She ain t a Merican, 
 but she talks United States jus as good as I can. 
 When she comes in she looks at me fer a while, an 
 then she calls me < child " j here Liver looked around 
 indignantly. " She calls me t child, an asks me what 
 I want. I tell her, an then she asks do I belong ter 
 the Maricopa outfit, an I say I do. Then she whoops 
 the prices er this fowl an fruit [bacon and canned 
 vegetables] away up, an she says things about me an 
 you an the company that ain t no compliments. I 
 get kinder mad, but I don say nothin , only that I 
 think the prices is too big, an that I don want the 
 
 224 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 things at that rate, but I think a lot more that I don t 
 say. Well, sir, that s where the queer part conies in. 
 No sooner do I think er them things what I wanter 
 say no sooner do I think er them things than they re 
 said. They re said in my voice, too, but I don say em 
 I don say a word. Where the voice comes from I 
 can t tell, an it jolts me some, now I tell yer. The 
 woman she isn t scared, but she looks kinder jolted, 
 too, jus fer a minute. Then she answers the voice 
 that was like mine j answers it jus like I d said what 
 the voice said. I m dead rattled by that time. I tells 
 her that it wasn t me what had said them things, an 
 she says I m lyin , little boy. I say I ain t, an then 
 that ther voice chips in again, an says what I d a liked 
 ter, only I wouldn t, not to a woman. Then she jumps 
 me again, an I m too dead rattled ter say a thing. I 
 don min ownin up I was rattled, an so d you a 
 been if you was there. Yet I try ter keep her f- om 
 swin lin me more n ther s any call fer on them there 
 goods. I ain t got no business ter get rattled bout 
 them. I don t know how I make out, though. Twice 
 more that voice comes inter the game, an the end of 
 it is that I pick up the bundles an drop em an pick 
 em up again, an mosey outer that fer all I m worth. 
 An the voice it calls out sunthin ter the woman as I 
 go sunthin I wouldn t er said, not on no account." 
 
 " That doesn t explain how it was you came to get 
 shot at," remarked Bailey, tearing up his handkerchief 
 to make a bandage. 
 
 " I was er-comin ter that." I runs outer there an 
 gets my horse an begins tyin the bundles on the 
 225 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 saddle like you see," replied Liver, making a gesture 
 with his unwouuded arm toward the many packages 
 that hung like distorted leeches to his heavy Mexican 
 saddle. " I was kinder shamed fer bein so rattled, 
 an I m tryin ter get over it, when up comes er greaser, 
 an he speaks me in Spanish. I don like greasers, but 
 I don say much. Then he asks me do I wanter make 
 money easy, so I say I got er job now what suits me 
 all right j but he says he means do I wanter make the 
 boodle without leavin my job, an I say sure I do. 
 Then he springs er scheme on me. Says the South 
 Bank Company d like ter get hoi of our boundary 
 survey notes ; an he says they d like some other in- 
 f ermation, now n again, an if I ll keep my eyes open, 
 an will come an tell that ther woman whatever she 
 wants ter know, they ll pay me well, only I got ter 
 keep my mouth shut. I get pretty mad at that, but I 
 don t feel fightin fit, so I don say much. Then he 
 says if I won t do what they wants me to, I mustn t 
 live ter tell er the proposition they made. Then the 
 voice chips in again, an said things what I d like ter 
 say, if I could only think of em, but I can t not then, 
 anyhow. I climb onter my horse in a hurry. The 
 greaser he looks like he s gettin dead mad, but then 
 I turn my back fer a minute, so I don t see him. 
 Then a shot comes f om somewhere, ! don t see where ; 
 but when I look ther s a puff er smoke in the air, an 
 the greaser he stan s there grinnin . Another shot 
 comes, an it burns my arm like you see. I pulls an 
 fires twice at the greaser, an ther s one more shot 
 f om nowhere, but it misses." 
 
 226 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 " Hold on, Liver/ said I. " What was it you said 
 to this Mexican ? Not what that voice you re telling 
 about said, but what you said yourself ? " 
 
 "Nothin much. As near as I c n remember, I tol 
 him that if he was a white man he oughter be shot 
 f er makin a propersition like that ; but bein what he 
 was, a low-down, mongrel beast of a greaser, he 
 warn t responserble, an twas them that tol him ter 
 say it what oughter be shot." 
 
 " Very moderate indeed," commented Bailey. " Did 
 you get the greaser when you fired at him, Liver ? " 
 
 "No, I reckon not. He didn t give no sign of it 
 that I could see." 
 
 Bailey gave a final tuck to the bandage on Liver s 
 arm. " That s all we can do now," said he. " The hurt 
 isn t much, anyhow it ll hardly make his arm sore. 
 What are you going to do about this affair? Of 
 course I don t pretend to understand this voice that 
 goes sliding around the country, laying for Liver in 
 order to get him into trouble, and I hazard no opinion 
 as to what Liver had been taking when he heard it- 
 Still, I think we d best go back and see about it. We ll 
 interview the legal powers of the land." 
 
 Bailey tried to speak lightly, but I am sure that he 
 was somewhat impressed by what Liver had said. 
 We both knew the boy well enough to be sure that, 
 whatever the voice might really be, Liver believed his 
 story to be true in every detail. I decided at once to 
 follow Bailey s advice. To see the deputy sheriff 
 stationed in the town, and to enlist his services in our 
 behalf, was obviously our best course. Turning to- 
 227 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 ward Biscuit City, I told Liver to go on to the camp 
 a thing Liver flatly refused to do. I think he was 
 afraid to trust us within range of the baneful influence 
 of that disembodied voice without having him by for 
 protection. Therefore he replaced the two empty 
 cartridges in his pistol with fresh ones, and hitching 
 his holster forward to a convenient place, he rode 
 along with us. 
 
 We did not have to return to Biscuit City, however. 
 A horseman who was in sight as we started back 
 proved, as he approached our party, to be the deputy 
 himself. He waved his hand, and pulling up, we 
 waited for him to meet us. 
 
 "Jus a-lookin foh you fellahs," said he. "They 
 tol me that kid er youahs got intah some trouble in 
 that stoah, an got huht. I don t want none ah that 
 sohtah thing roun heah. If I c n fin out the man 
 what fiahed that shot, he won t shoot no moah. 
 Theah s been some queeah things roun that place 
 lately. How did it happen ? " 
 
 We told him, briefly, what had occurred. Though 
 we could not avoid the mention of Liver s mysterious 
 voice, we passed over it as lightly as possible. Neither 
 Bailey nor I wanted to have Liver laughed at if 
 we could help it. But there was no danger of that, 
 it seemed. The deputy sheriff listened attentively, 
 leaning forward in his saddle and fanning himself 
 with his broad-brimmed sombrero. 
 
 " Yes, I reckoned that mightah had sunthin to do 
 with it," he said, as we finished our story. " That 
 theah woman what runs the shop has only been 
 
 228 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 theah three days, now, but theah s othahs beside the 
 boy what has heahd that voice a-sayin things 
 mighty queeah things, too, sometimes. But it nebah 
 shot no one befoah." 
 
 " A voice couldn t shoot any one," I objected. 
 
 "Dunno whethah it could or not," responded the 
 sheriff. "If theah s a voice, theah mus be sunthin 
 what makes that voice. That s what I m goin to fin 
 out, if I can. Twasn t that greasah what did the 
 shootin . I went through him, an his gun hadn t 
 been fiahed." 
 
 " You arrested him, then ?" asked Bailey. 
 
 " No. I didn t have to. The kid got him, all right 
 enough. The greasah was afraid to come out an do 
 the shootin himself, like a Christian, so he let that 
 thing, whatevah it was, do it foh him, like he knowed 
 it would." 
 
 " Will he die ? " I inquired. 
 
 " Fraid not. But theah ain t no good in you fellahs 
 goin back theah now. I ll do all I can, an you ll only 
 be gettin intah trouble. Theah s a lot ah them South 
 Bank people that s gathahed what d only be too glad 
 ah the chance, an they outnumbah you. If theah is 
 any news, I ll come ovah to Dam Site an let you know. 
 So long." 
 
 Turning, the sheriff galloped back, and once more 
 we turned the heads of our horses toward the camp. 
 
 The sun had nearly set as we started. The wind 
 
 arose in puffs which grew stronger as the sun lowered. 
 
 Each gust carried with it sand from the surface of the 
 
 desert, making half the great disk tkat still showed 
 
 229 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 above the horizon appear red, and hazy in outline, 
 and confusing the long shadows that stretched away 
 on our right. We were a very silent party. Neither 
 Bailey nor I cared to discuss the affair of the store in 
 Liver s presence, for Liver was fully occupied in trying 
 to control his shaken nerves. Had he failed to control 
 them, I think he would have died of shame. Aurelio, 
 our Mexican, filled with the superstition of his race, 
 kept looking over his shoulder as though he expected 
 to see something in pursuit of our party. He was a 
 very good Mexican. If he had not been, he would not 
 have started back with us when we undertook to return 
 to Biscuit City. But then he was a white man, not a 
 greaser ; that is to say, his blood was not mixed with 
 that of the Indian. It was not well to call Aurelio a 
 greaser, for he objected to the name, and when Aurelio 
 objected to a thing, he did it with a knife, generally. 
 We did not keep to the trail, for there was a much 
 shorter way to our camp. It led across a stretch of 
 land that was cut up by ditches and sown thickly with 
 badger-holes, and therefore was quite impracticable 
 for wagons ; yet for our horses, if carefully ridden, it 
 was passable enough. But having reached this place, 
 it took us much longer than we had anticipated to pick 
 our way across it. Though the moon had risen nearly 
 as soon as the sun went down, the sand was now flying 
 in so thick a cloud as to obscure its rays, and to give 
 them, when they sifted through, the same watery ap 
 pearance that they would have had if they were filter 
 ing through rain-clouds. Minute by minute this grew 
 worse. At times we could hardly see anything. 
 
 230 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 The wind still blew in gusts. Between these gusts 
 there was no lull no absolute lull, that is ; but when 
 one gust had passed, until another came we could see 
 a short distance ahead of us and so could tell, to a 
 degree, where we were going; then, as each puff bore 
 down on us, the dust that it carried would appear as 
 though it were a curtain, bellying and flying across 
 the plain with all the force of the wind behind it. 
 
 We had nearly crossed the broken ground. Beyond 
 us lay a part of the desert that was level and sandy 
 and firm. We could not see it, of course, but we knew 
 that it was there. Suddenly Liver, who was riding on 
 my left, pointed to that side and to the rear. 
 
 " Look ! " he cried, in a voice that was almost a 
 scream. " Look there ! Look ! Look ! " 
 
 With our eyes we followed the direction in which 
 he pointed. One wave of the storm had passed, and 
 the lull was lighter than usual, but another wave was 
 almost abreast of us, and, perhaps from the contrast 
 given by the unusual lightness, seemed darker than 
 any that had preceded it. 
 
 Ahead of the wave of sand a figure ran, or in some 
 way moved. It seemed as though it was blown along 
 by the wind as a dry leaf is blown. The figure was 
 that of an old man, enormously tall, and clad in flut 
 tering white drapery. His long hair and beard, both 
 silvery white, mingled as they were blown forward by 
 the wind. In one hand he held a staff, which he waved 
 forward as though he were urging on the wind as a 
 man calls on his dogs. He was shouting something, 
 too, in a tongue that I never before had heard, and in 
 
 231 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 a voice that boomed and rang and mingled with the 
 rush of the gale, so that if one had not seen the figure 
 itself, its voice could not have been distinguished from 
 one of the many voices of the storm. 
 
 Bailey saw the apparition at the same moment that I 
 did, and with an oath he checked his horse. In the 
 darkness I could hear Aurelio shrieking forth prayers 
 in Latin tinged with Mexican- Spanish. Liver had 
 started to cover his face with his arm in order to shut 
 out the sight of the wind-blown figure, but quickly 
 collecting himself, he whipped out his pistol instead, 
 and fired three shots with all the quickness of his 
 practised little hand. Before he could fire a fourth, I 
 caught the weapon and threw it up. 
 
 It was all over in an instant. The curtain of dust 
 and sand surrounded us, and the figure vanished. 
 For a moment I thought I could hear its voice, but I 
 was in no way certain. The only sure thing was that 
 we were all startled very much startled. The horses 
 were infected by the fright, as horses always are, and 
 in another moment they were rushing and floundering 
 over the bad ground, and when they had passed it, 
 they galloped madly, at a gait that suggested stam 
 pede, through the darkness home to the camp. 
 
 Supper, that evening, was a very perfunctory affair. 
 The dust got into everything. As soon as the men had 
 swallowed what they could, one after another they 
 disappeared. For a while I sat on the veranda of the 
 office building and watched the storm. There was not 
 much to see. The office was placed so close to the 
 edge of the mesa that the veranda on which I sat over- 
 
 232 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 hung the cliff, fifty yards high, that bounded one side 
 of the narrow valley of the Gila. On the flat below, 
 an enormous splinter of rock, split from the parent 
 cliff by volcanic action, stood balanced on one end, its 
 top close to the mesa and on a level with it. The top 
 of this rock was wholly invisible ; in fact, it was im 
 possible to tell where the solid ground of the mesa left 
 off and the space beyond it began. Taken altogether 
 it was not an inspiriting sight. I went to bed. 
 
 It was quite late the next morning when I woke. 
 The wind was almost gone, and the sun was shining 
 brightly. From the flat below came the cheerful 
 sounds of the work that had already begun. Out of 
 my window I could see as I dressed that the teams 
 were already harnessed to the great ploughs which were 
 to break the ground for the foundations of our dam. 
 Bailey was here, there, and everywhere, busily super 
 intending. Close to the base of the cliff, so close that 
 I could not see, the sounds of hammers and saws and 
 falling boards told that the building for our store was 
 already in the process of erection. Liver was stand 
 ing just within my range of vision, intently observing 
 this operation, with manifest approval of the coming 
 rival of the establishment he had visited the day before. 
 
 Hurrying through with my breakfast, I went over 
 the newly started work. Everything was going on as 
 well as could be ; so calling for Liver to bring my 
 horse and his own, I started off down the line of the 
 canal. 
 
 Our way led along the flat, under the shadow of 
 the frowning cliffs that bordered it : cliffs of polished 
 
 233 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 black volcanic rock. But it was only on the surface 
 that the rock was black. Wherever the stone was 
 smooth enough, Indians of some forgotten race had 
 chipped this surface away, revealing the light-gray 
 stone underneath in the shape of coiled serpents, 
 deer, or long-legged birds, all much conventionalized. 
 From a little distance it looked as though the queer 
 hieroglyphs were drawn with chalk on a blackboard. 
 
 Then all these cliffs fell back ; the flat grew broader, 
 and we could see the dust-cloud that drifted away from 
 the works of the South Bank Company. This was the 
 end of our journey, for here were the stakes marking 
 the disputed boundary between our land and that 
 which they claimed. I was rather uneasy about this 
 place, for reports of the wrath of the South Bank 
 people were coming to me continually. They were 
 threatening all manner of things, and I had no doubt 
 that, sooner or later, we should have trouble with 
 them. On this day, however, none of the stakes 
 seemed to have been disturbed, and after satisfying 
 myself of this fact, I started back to the camp. 
 
 We were returning across the mesa it was shorter 
 that way than by following the sinuosities of the river 
 valley. For a long time neither of us had spoken, 
 when suddenly Liver observed : " Say, I s pose you 
 know that a lot er the men have heard that ther voice 
 what scared me up so yes day." 
 
 I had not heard anything of the kind, I said. 
 
 "Well, it s so. Ther ain t none er them fellers 
 that ll go inter that store, not if they c n help emselves. * 
 They don t say why it is they won t go not as a rule, 
 
 234 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 that is, but now n again you hear the truth. It ain t 
 all the time that the voice goes. It s only in good 
 weather that they hear it, so they say. D yer know, 
 ther s mighty queer things goin roun here, anyhow 1 
 Look at that thing what we-all saw las night. I d 
 iike ter run across that again." 
 
 Liver had evidently shaken off all fear of that 
 venerable spectre for a spectre he fully believed it 
 to be. He made this evident when I reproved him 
 for firing at it when he had seen it the night before, 
 saying that it was undoubtedly a lunatic that had 
 escaped from somewhere. 
 
 " Lunatic loco, you mean ? " cried Liver, scornfully. 
 "Now, jus you tell me where that ther lunatic er 
 yourn is a-go n ter escape from." 
 
 Liver had rather the better of the argument. There 
 certainly was no place in that vicinity where such a 
 creature would be likely to be confined. I had not much 
 faith in my own theory ; therefore I made no attempt 
 to answer Liver s question, further than by disclaim 
 ing the ownership with which he had invested me. 
 
 " I reckon it s a ghost er some kind er other," mused 
 Liver, after a while. " Ther ain t much doubt about 
 that. I d like mighty well ter ketch the thing an 
 see what it s like. I d keep it fer a while." 
 
 I pointed out to Liver that if his theory was correct, 
 such a capture would be difficult, not to say impossible. 
 He did not seem, however, to grasp the physical 
 difficulties that stood in his way, but rather regarded 
 what I said as a prejudice of mine against having 
 such a thing loose around the camp. 
 
 235 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " Well, if you wouldn t let me keep it alive, I reckon 
 I might have it stuffed," said he. 
 
 This was really becoming too frivolous, and I 
 checked Liver in his speculations concerning stuffed 
 spectres. He hastened to explain, however, that 
 though, of course, he was fully aware of the accepted 
 idea that you could not capture a creature of this sort 
 li no more n you could a puff er rifle-smoke," still he 
 could see no reason why a thing that looked so like a 
 man, and seemed to hold together in a manner that 
 was not at all smoke-like, could not be captured in 
 the same way that any other creature might be, and, 
 for his part, he intended to try, if the opportunity 
 should arise. He was making this plain at some 
 length, when suddenly he interrupted himself. 
 
 " Look at that ! " he cried exultingly. " Talk er 
 the devil look at that ! " 
 
 With this seemingly quite irrelevant observation, 
 Liver clapped spurs to his horse and darted away 
 over the desert, drawing his pistol as he went. I 
 could see nothing except that a remolino one of the 
 little whirlwinds that are eternally spinning about 
 over the desert had formed in the mouth of a gorge 
 that led through the cliff from the mesa to the river- 
 flat, and that it had danced a little way out into the 
 plain, and, except for its rotary motion, stood almost 
 still. Then it gradually dissolved. As the dust it had 
 gathered slowly dissipated, the figure of the old man 
 came into view more and more distinctly as the air 
 surrounding him cleared. 
 
 With one hand extended as though in welcome, the 
 236 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 figure stood for a moment gazing intently at Liver, 
 who was speeding toward it over the plain. Then, 
 apparently catching sight of the pistol, it made with 
 its staff a gesture of menace. 
 
 " Throw up yer han s ! " yelled Liver. 
 
 The figure passed quickly into the gorge and dis 
 appeared. At the same moment Liver fired, and the 
 ball tossed up a little sand where the figure had been. 
 Arriving a second later, Liver sprang from his horse, 
 and without hesitation followed the apparition into 
 the gorge. 
 
 So astonished was I by this affair that unconsciously 
 I had stopped my horse and sat gaping at the scene 
 before me. Now, as Liver vanished, I spurred forward. 
 I do not know why I did this. Perhaps it was be 
 cause I feared that Liver might find himself in the 
 clutches of a maniac, or perhaps it was only because 
 I, too, wanted to see what had become of the creature, 
 whatever it was. At all events, I followed him. It 
 was useless, however, for just as I arrived, Liver 
 emerged from the mouth of the gorge, looking very 
 red and hot. Without a word he mounted his horse. 
 
 " Well 1? " I said inquiringly. 
 
 "No good," growled Liver. " Didn t have no luck 
 at all. He that thing jus went in amongs them 
 rocks, an then he must a gone out like a blowed-out 
 match. Thought he might a hid som w er s, so I 
 crawled roun ter see. Couldn t find hide ner hair. 
 Oh, he s a spook, all right enough, you bet yer." 
 
 Now, I did not for a moment suppose that the 
 creature was a spirit, or spook, as Liver put it, yet it 
 
 237 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 certainly was out of the common and very mysterious 
 not at all the sort of thing that one would have 
 a right to expect on an Arizona desert. Still, that 
 was no reason why it should be shot at in this pro 
 miscuous kind of way. It had done us no manner 
 of harm, and very probably it would object to hav 
 ing pistol-balls shot into it. Once more I remon 
 strated with Liver about his conduct in this respect. 
 
 " Pistol-balls don t seem ter hurt him none, not that 
 I c n see," he growled in reply. 
 
 " That s true enough," I agreed j " but that s because 
 you can t shoot. The balls would have hurt him if 
 you hadn t missed." 
 
 Indignant at this slur on his marksmanship, Liver 
 edged his horse away from mine, and for some time 
 rode along in a dignified silence. After a while he 
 edged back again. 
 
 " There he comes again, I reckon," said he, pointing 
 over the desert in a direction directly opposite that 
 in which the old man had been going when he disap 
 peared. I looked, and near the horizon I saw a black 
 speck. 
 
 "You haven t got it into your head that it s the old 
 man you just saw, have you ? " I asked in some sur 
 prise. "Why, to be over there he d have to travel 
 faster than a rifle-ball. Do be sensible, or as near it 
 as you can." 
 
 " He s jus the boy what can travel faster n a rifle- 
 ball if he wants ter," rejoined Liver. " Anyhow, we d 
 better go n see who it is." 
 
 I agreed to that. I thought it very likely that I 
 238 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 was wanted at the camp, and that the dot we saw was 
 some one sent out to look for me. We turned our 
 horses and rode along toward it. 
 
 " It ain t the ol man, anyhow," said Liver, after 
 a while. " That s one sure thing. It s a waggin er 
 some kind er another, an it s only got one horse. It s 
 a-coinin right along, too." 
 
 Liver had the sharpest eyes I ever saw. For a long 
 time I could only make out that the speck was mov 
 ing. As it came closer I saw that it was a buggy, 
 dust-covered and rickety, drawn by a mule. The 
 mule was going at a reluctant gallop, urged by a 
 whip that was fast wearing out, as a woman, who 
 was driving, plied it vigorously. 
 
 " That s Billy Tilson s mule an go-cart what she s 
 got," said Liver. "He s the feller what keeps that 
 ther little canvas saloon over to Biscuit City. Won 
 der what she s doin here ? " 
 
 I wondered, too. "Who is she?" I asked. 
 
 " She ? Don t you know ? " asked Liver, in some 
 surprise. " Why, that s the woman what runs the 
 store where where I was yesterday, you know. I 
 don t reckon she wants ter see us any too bad, though. 
 S pose we pull on home." 
 
 The woman had turned aside a little, and at first 
 came toward us, but as she saw who we were, she re 
 sumed her former course, wilich, if followed, would 
 take her by us some distance away. 
 
 Liver was observing her sharply. 
 
 " Reckon maybe we d better go n see what s wrong 
 with her, though, after all," said he. " She s up 
 
 239 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 against it somehow, an maybe we c n help. She s 
 cryin , see?" 
 
 I had not seen that when Liver spoke. My aston 
 ishment at seeing a woman in such a place was but 
 little less than that inspired by the appearance of 
 Liver s ghostly friend. 
 
 The woman was rather a well-looking person, mid 
 dle-aged and dark-skinned, with black hair touched 
 with gray, and piercing eyes that I soon discovered 
 were red and swollen from recent tears. She was 
 evidently a person of refinement, a lady, which made 
 her seem more out of place than ever in such an 
 equipage and on that desert plain. The way she was 
 driving led to nowhere at all, but she was making 
 most urgent haste. 
 
 Though I did not like to appear intrusive, I could 
 not allow her to go by in such evident distress without 
 at least making an offer of help. After a moment s 
 hesitation, I galloped alongside her buggy and asked 
 if I could be of service to her in any way. 
 
 " No ; I require nothing," said she, sharply, with an 
 accent not American. " Certainly I wish for nothing 
 from you you who are about to ruin us except to 
 be left in peace. I wish that I may have nothing 
 whatever to do with you." 
 
 There was no replying to a rebuff like that. I 
 raised my hat, and, reining in my horse, allowed her 
 to pass on. After all, she could come to no great 
 harm as long as she stood to her present course. It 
 was in getting lost on the desert that the danger lay. 
 A little farther on she would come to the river-bank, 
 
 240 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 and that would guide her. Liver sat gazing after the 
 buggy until a rise in the desert hid it from us, and 
 then rejoined me. 
 
 " S pose it s that ther* commissary what we re put- 
 tin up is what she means when she says we re tryin 
 ter ruin her," said he. " She oughter know, though, 
 that it s the company, not us, what s doin that. But 
 she was dead rattled bout sunthin . I don t reckon 
 she d a took us up so sharp if she hadn t been. May 
 be she seen that ther* ghost what I was er-chasin , an 
 that scared her." 
 
 Liver had unlimited faith in the locomotive power 
 of his ghost, and this faith I did not now stop to 
 combat. Striking into a hard gallop, I made the best 
 of my way back to the camp. 
 
 That evening our adventures were known through 
 out the camp. Liver had told them, of course. He 
 was no longer reticent about his supernatural ex 
 periences, as he considered them. It was not neces 
 sary, for belief was wide-spread, and fresh tales of 
 this kind were no longer in danger of exciting derision. 
 Most of the men would have hesitated before leaving 
 the camp without company. 
 
 That these men, in a camp like ours, believed more 
 readily in the supernatural than they would have done 
 in surroundings more commonplace is not a thing to 
 be wondered at. The very immensity of the desert 
 and its emptiness breeds a mystery that is conducive 
 to such belief. Here we were, set down on this great 
 sandy waste that reached for hundreds of miles in 
 one direction and for thousands in the other three. 
 
 241 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 A mile from the camp, except along the banks of the 
 river, one was as far away, practically, from all hu 
 manity as though hundreds of miles lay between one s 
 self and the next human being. Here a whole colony 
 might live and die, and, unless by the merest chance, 
 no one would know of its existence. Afterward, less 
 than three miles from our camp, the remains of a tent 
 and the skeletons of three men were found on the 
 open plain. They had been there for years, probably. 
 
 This superstitious fear, however, did not prevent 
 the progress of the work. That was most satisfactory. 
 Our force increased hour by hour, and we were fast 
 working into the regular construction. The prepara 
 tory stage was passing quickly. The building that 
 was to shelter our store was almost completed the day 
 following the one on which Liver and I had our ad 
 venture. Its canvas roof was already in place, and 
 the fly roof of redwood shakes nearly finished. The 
 rough counters were in place, and in the evening the 
 goods were moved in, to be unpacked the next 
 morning. 
 
 I was up late that night, busy with my first report. 
 Liver had spread his blankets in a variety of places, 
 first on the floor of the office, then on the veranda ; 
 but the heat of the night was stifling, and he could 
 not sleep. After several vain attempts, he gave it 
 up, and rolling his blankets, strolled disgustedly away. 
 Except for the distant yell of some reveller in one of 
 the saloons that had sprung like mushrooms along 
 our line, or for the occasional yelp of a coyote on the 
 desert, there was no sound. 
 
 242 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 I had finished my report and was putting it into 
 the envelope, when I was startled by a shout coming 
 from the river-flat below the office. Then there was 
 a volley of oaths, two or three shots, and the rush of 
 galloping horses, accompanied by more shots, that 
 grew faint in the distance during the instant that I 
 listened. A single pistol answered them, until, its 
 six cartridges exhausted, it became silent. Then 
 Liver s voice rang out. 
 
 "Fire!" it caUed. "Fire! Help here, quick! 
 Fire ! Fire ! " 
 
 From the engineers quarters there came a buzz of 
 voices and a shuffling of feet as the men were roused 
 from their sleep. From my window I could see that 
 a column of smoke from the flat ascended straight into 
 the air until a faint upper current caught it and bore 
 it gracefully northward. I ran to the edge of the 
 mesa, and as I reached it the newly erected store burst 
 into a glare of flames, which lighted the river valley 
 as far as I could see in each direction. It showed 
 the workmen rushing from the places where they had 
 stowed themselves to sleep ; it showed Liver, near the 
 fire, bending over a man that was wounded and lying 
 on the ground. A few of the lighter goods had been 
 rolled out on to the sand, and they were even now 
 smoking from the heat sent out by the burning store. 
 Of course there was no hope of saving the building. 
 The light and dry materials of which it was made 
 offered the flames too good a chance. 
 
 A sunken trail led down the cliff. I stumbled 
 through its dark length and emerged into the glare 
 
 243 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 of the flat. When I reached it, Liver had pulled the 
 wounded man farther away from the flames, and was 
 trying to stop the blood that flowed from his breast 
 with a bandanna handkerchief. The flat swarmed 
 with men, but there was nothing for them to do but 
 to remove the few goods that had been thrown out of 
 the store. In a few seconds this was done, and they 
 gathered about Liver and the man to whom he was 
 attending. As I approached, Liver rose to his feet 
 and wiped his forehead on his shirt-sleeve. 
 
 " I reckon it s all up with him," he said, very gravely. 
 
 I bent over the man and examined him. He was dead. 
 
 " I s pose," Liver went on, musingly, " that pullin 
 him over here didn t do him no good but it only 
 hurried things a little, though, I reckon. Anyhow, I 
 couldn leave him there to be roasted." 
 
 None of us knew just what had happened. It 
 seems, as Liver explained, that the man who was killed 
 had been appointed by the foreman to sleep in the 
 store in order to guard the goods that were placed 
 there. He had probably been waked by those who 
 came to set fire to the store, and jumping from his 
 cot, had shot at them. The fire was returned, and he 
 fell just as Liver, who had been wandering aimlessly 
 about, came running up. Liver had left his own 
 pistol in the office, but catching up the one dropped 
 by the wounded watchman, he emptied it at the re 
 treating incendiaries. Then he tried to put out the 
 fire with sand, and failing, rolled out the goods that 
 were light enough for him to handle, and raised the 
 cry for help that I had heard. 
 244 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 The incendiaries were evidently from the camp of 
 the South Bank Company. No other people would 
 have had an interest in the destruction of our store. 
 Our men were of the opinion that it was done with 
 the knowledge of the officers of that company, and I 
 also rather inclined to that view. They derived a 
 considerable income from their store at Biscuit City, 
 and a break in the monopoly they enjoyed would not 
 be welcomed. 
 
 Preparation for the pursuit of the fire-bugs began 
 at once. All the horses that could be mustered under 
 the saddle were made ready there were only about 
 twenty of them and the men mounted. Bailey, 
 Liver, and I joined them, and we swung away at a 
 hand-gallop down the river trail. Other men were 
 hurriedly putting horses to the big wagons as we left. 
 In case of meeting an enemy of a force superior to 
 ours, we would only have to hold him in check until 
 these wagons with their loads should arrive as reen- 
 forcements. 
 
 The moon hung nearly overhead in the sky, so that 
 the shadow of the cliff was narrow and growing nar 
 rower as each minute passed. The trail of the incen 
 diaries was very plain. They had followed the road 
 for a short distance, and then had struck off to the 
 right over the smooth sand of the flat, where their 
 track was as clearly to be seen as though it was 
 another road. 
 
 In order to guard against surprise, two men rode 
 fifty yards ahead, while the rest followed in a body. 
 No one spoke. The only sounds that broke the silence 
 245 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 of the night were the pad of the horses hoofs on the 
 sand, like the roll of a muffled drum heard from a 
 distance, the occasional creak of a saddle, and the low 
 click of the spur-chains as they rapped against the 
 stirrups. 
 
 Once, one of the men who rode ahead held up his 
 hand to attract attention, and then pointed to a dark 
 object he was passing as it lay on the ground. In 
 another moment we also were passing it, and could 
 see that it was the body of a man, lying as it had 
 evidently fallen from a horse. Its arms were ex 
 tended, and on the breast of its shirt was a stain that 
 looked black in the moonlight. 
 
 " Liver or the watchman got one of them, then, after 
 all," said Bailey in a whisper, as he rode by my side. 
 " What s the matter with those two men ? " he added, 
 a moment later, pointing to our advance-guard, which 
 had suddenly halted. 
 
 " They ve doubled on us," said one of the two men 
 the one who had pointed out the body as we over 
 took them. " They wheeled here see ? an then put 
 back. They went quicker n they came, too ; jus look 
 at the way them tracks stretch. They ll ride right 
 inter the wagons, if they don t look out." 
 
 Turning their horses, the two men spurred them 
 on along the trail of our enemies, and after waiting 
 for a moment until they gained their distance, we fol 
 lowed. 
 
 Just what the fugitives hoped to gain by this move 
 of theirs I could not see, yet it made me uneasy. If 
 by any chance they should evade the wagons, they 
 
 246 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 miglit pass on to our camp, which would then be at 
 their mercy. 
 
 For some distance we galloped on. A bend of the 
 river brought it closer to the mesa; the tracks held 
 their line unchanged until they reached the river. 
 Here they stopped, and all traces of them were lost in 
 the slowly running water of the Gila. Our men 
 stopped. 
 
 "Come on," I cried. "They ve only crossed the 
 river. We can catch them yet, if we hurry." 
 
 I was about to push into the water when an elderly 
 man Texas, they called him reached quickly for 
 ward and caught my bridle-rein. 
 
 " Hoi on," said he, quietly. " We ve seen the end 
 of it they nevah crossed. Why, the quicksand in 
 theah would swallah a train o freight-cyahs." 
 
 For a little time the men sat gazing at the tracks 
 on the wet sand of the river-bank. Finally one of 
 the advance-guard spoke. 
 
 " Tell yer what," said he. " It s mos sunrise now. 
 I reckon I ll poke along down ter that ther 7 South 
 Bank camp. They don t know me, an maybe I c n 
 fin out what s goin on. Then I ll come back an tell 
 you." 
 
 " Bes thing you kin do," agreed Texas. 
 
 The man cantered away, and we rode slowly back 
 to the trail, where the rumble of the wagons told us 
 that they were coming as quickly as their six-horse 
 teams could go. They came in sight around a point 
 of the cliff as we reached the road. The men were in 
 high spirits, shouting and singing as they came. 
 
 247 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 As the drivers saw us, the wagons stopped, and our 
 men cantered forward to meet them. The singing 
 stopped, also, and its place was taken by questions 
 that were flung at us in volleys. Our men eased 
 themselves in their saddles and told their story at full 
 length, glad to have listeners. Considerable surprise 
 was expressed at the unexpected end of our chase, and 
 a good deal of discussion was aroused by it. This 
 discussion was still going on when the wagons, with 
 much scraping of wheels, crashed into the underbrush 
 by the side of the trail, jolted, heaved, and finally 
 regained the road with their horses headed toward 
 home. The men were still discussing the probable 
 cause of our adversaries conduct. One of them fa 
 cetiously hazarded the theory that, suddenly stricken 
 with remorse, they had rushed back in order to com 
 mit suicide. 
 
 " I tell yer what was the matter with them fellers," 
 said another. " They saw that ther ol man with a 
 beard. That s what made em turn." 
 
 " Maybe it is, an then maybe it ain t," said the driver 
 of the wagon in which the speaker sat. " But whether 
 it is er it ain t, you don t wanter go talkin bout no 
 such things as that not here. Don t you know that s 
 jus the way ter make him come ter see us ? An we 
 don t wanter see him none, I reckon." 
 
 In order to rebuke the former speaker, the driver 
 had turned in his seat. As he turned back to his 
 former position, he sprang to his feet. 
 
 "Look there!" he cried. "What d I tell yer? 
 Look ! " 
 
 248 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 He pointed with his whip at a rectangular cleft in the 
 rock of the cliffs, and there, with the brilliant moon 
 light falling full upon it, stood the figure of the old man. 
 
 Inside the cleft there was deepest shadow; the 
 white figure, with this background of dull black, was 
 framed on three sides by the glistening volcanic rock 
 of the cliff, relieved by the Indian hieroglyphs of 
 gray, which glimmered faintly in the moonlight, as 
 though they were phosphorescent. 
 
 The men, both mounted and in the wagons, were 
 silent. Not even the clank of a trace-chain broke the 
 stillness; the horses themselves seemed struck with 
 fear. This was the first time I had seen the old man 
 at so short a distance. Now he was not more than 
 twenty yards away from me, and the light fell full 
 upon his face. It was a strong face, handsome and 
 highly bred, with piercing black eyes under heavy 
 white eyebrows, and an aquiline nose. He did not 
 seem angry. Instead he smiled on us, and stretched 
 out his arms as I had seen him do to Liver, with a 
 gesture that seemed to express benediction or wel 
 come. Then, dropping his arms, he set his staff on 
 the rock and seemed as though he was about to de 
 scend to us. I heard some one smother an oath in 
 his throat ; then the flash of a pistol burned a red 
 streak in the white moonlight. The man who fired 
 was the one who had been rebuked for speaking of 
 the apparition. He was almost beside himself with 
 fear of the apparition that he thought he had sum 
 moned, I could see that, and probably had some 
 hazy idea of making amends for having done so. 
 
 249 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 As the report rang out, the face of the old man 
 changed. Instead of the benignant smile, it assumed 
 an expression of great rage, and he held his staff ex 
 tended toward us, as though in solemn anathema. 
 Then he stepped back into the shadows that filled 
 the interior of the cleft and disappeared, as Liver had 
 said, like the flame of a match that is blown out. 
 
 " God help us, it s the devil himself ! " shrieked a 
 man sitting in one of the wagons. 
 
 " The devil ! The devil ! The devil himself ! " was 
 instantly shrieked in answer. It was repeated over 
 and over again, growing fainter with each repetition 
 as the echo was tossed from cliff to cliff. 
 
 This was the finishing stroke. With a yell the 
 driver of the foremost wagon rose in his seat and 
 curled his long lash around the bodies of his team as 
 fast as his arm could ply the whip. The wagon 
 started with a jerk, and the other wagons immediately 
 followed. From some instinctive feeling of pride, the 
 mounted party waited until the wagons had passed, 
 and then fell in and cantered along behind them. 
 
 " What is it that they re all so frightened at now 1 " 
 I said to Texas, who was riding at my side, in a voice 
 that I tried to make unconcerned. " It was only an 
 echo." 
 
 " Twahn t all an echo," he replied, speaking very 
 gravely. " That theah pistol-shot echoed, but it didn 
 soun noway like that." 
 
 This was quite true, and I had known it all along, 
 but would not admit it, even to myself. Though still 
 I did not believe that the being which had appeared to 
 
 250 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 us was supernatural, yet I could formulate no theory 
 as to who or what it was that satisfied me. But then, 
 I was a good deal startled, just at that time. 
 
 It was sunrise when we reached our camp. As the 
 sun rose, so did the wind; the sand began to fly a 
 little, and in a manner that promised that more would 
 fly as the day wore on. Breakfast was prepared and 
 disposed of as quickly as possible. We had hardly 
 finished when the man who had gone to the camp 
 of the South Bank Company came in to report. 
 
 His news was not cheering. The camp of the rival 
 company, he said, was in a state of great excitement 
 about a party that had left the night before, but had 
 not returned. One of their horses had come in, 
 saddle empty, and this was the only trace they had. 
 To us, it seems, they gave the credit of the disap 
 pearance of their friends, and for this they had de 
 termined to take summary vengeance. In this course 
 they were encouraged by their foremen and superin 
 tendent, who for some time had been preaching a 
 crusade against us. 
 
 " They re sure a-comin ," concluded our informant. 
 " I know that, cause they re sorter gettin ready. I 
 seen em myself. An it ll be prutty soon, less this 
 san that s jus started a-flyin keeps em back. Well, 
 I reckon I ll go n get some grub now, an turn in." 
 
 It did not seem likely that we would be attacked 
 while the sand-storm was in progress. Still, one never 
 could tell, and in the opinion of the older men, expe 
 rienced in this kind of impromptu warfare, it was 
 possible that our enemies might take advantage of 
 2 5 I 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 the storm in order to attempt a surprise. At all 
 events, it was better to be prepared. The adobe office 
 building was hastily made ready. Loopholes were 
 made in the doors, and sand-bags lay ready to barri 
 cade them. More loopholes, with much labor, were 
 made in the adobe walls. Provisions and water es 
 pecially water were brought in and stored. The 
 storm increased in force. Everything was colored a 
 dismal grayish yellow ; and in spite of the sun that 
 was shining brilliantly into the dust, one could hardly 
 see five times his length. All that morning we were 
 at work ; it was past noon when we finished. 
 
 Most of the men, thoroughly tired out, went in 
 search of their sleeping-places, wherever they were. 
 The engineer corps, together with Texas and a few of 
 the mechanics, stayed in the office, dozing and watch 
 ing by turns. Outside the office no watch was kept ; 
 it would have been useless in that weather, for there 
 was not one chance in fifty that any approach could 
 be detected. 
 
 The afternoon had dragged itself on toward even 
 ing. Standing on the sheltered side of the veranda, 
 I thought I dimly saw something move across the 
 plain. I strained my eyes to the utmost, trying to 
 make out what it was, when some particles of adobe 
 clay from the wall beside me flew with stinging force 
 against my cheek. I heard nothing, but on turning 
 my head I saw on the sun-baked brick of the wall a 
 silvery splash of flattened lead. Before I could move 
 another one came, and still another. I turned and 
 ran. When I reached the door, I found that some 
 
 252 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 one was holding it open for me ; as soon as I entered 
 it was closed and sand-bags were piled against it. 
 
 Catching up a rifle, I took my place at a window ; 
 but I could see nothing to shoot at. Holes in the 
 lifted panes told of bullets that had come through, 
 and from time to time another hole would appear, 
 and a little powdered glass would fly noiselessly into 
 the room. This sort of thing was very trying to the 
 nerves. The men were shifting their positions un 
 easily, and peering harder than ever into the thickness 
 outside. Finally I saw two spots, dull and coppery 
 red, that appeared and instantly vanished. They 
 were rifle-flashes. Other men saw them as quickly as 
 I, and a dozen of our rifles replied. We could hardly 
 hear the reports, and the flashes, snatched from the 
 muzzles, were carried away by the wind. 
 
 Then, a few yards to the leeward of our office, there 
 was a great flash, yellower because more powerful 
 than those made by the rifles. A muffled thud fol 
 lowed it, and the window that faced in that direction 
 fell inward as though some one had pushed it with 
 both hands. In an instant the room was filled with a 
 back current of swirling dust. 
 
 "That there was a stick er dynamite, I reckon," 
 said Texas, calmly blowing into the dusty breech of 
 his Winchester. He laid down his rifle, as he spoke, 
 and went to help one of the carpenters, who had 
 snatched up hammer and nails, and was trying to 
 hold a drawing-board over the window until he could 
 nail it there. 
 
 " Didn t make quite enough allowance fer the wind," 
 
 253 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 commented the carpenter. " They ll fetch us next 
 time, I reckon." 
 
 He had hardly spoken when some one standing at 
 a window gave a warning cry. 
 
 " Here it comes ! " he shouted. " Get back ! Back 
 for your lives ! " 
 
 We rushed to the most remote part of the big room 
 and waited. I have no idea how long it was. I saw 
 Bailey open his mouth to speak, and I knew that he 
 was going to say that he thought the fuse must have 
 gone out. Finally the walls at which we had been 
 standing raised, hesitated, then crumbled and fell, and 
 for an instant the shattered room was filled with the 
 acrid fumes of dynamite, which were dispersed by the 
 wind almost before one had time to notice them. 
 
 At this moment there was a lull, and for an instant 
 we could see some of our adversaries. Most of them 
 were sheltered behind the rocks that littered the 
 mesa, but one was standing, and in an attitude that 
 indicated that it was he who had thrown the dy 
 namite. Two or three of our men fired, and he threw 
 up his arms ; but before he could fall, if he did fall, 
 the sand surrounded and concealed him. 
 
 A faint pop reached our ears as a volley came from 
 our opponents. The carpenter who had nailed up the 
 window winced, and dropping the hammer, he fell on 
 it, dead. 
 
 At each puff of wind, some of the adobe bricks, 
 loosened by the explosion, fell from the wall, until 
 one end of the room and most of one side were open. 
 The situation was not a pleasant one. We had none 
 
 254 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 of us reckoned on the use of dynamite by our enemies. 
 Indeed, if it had not been for the sand-storm, which 
 enabled them to get so near us, they could not have 
 used it. 
 
 There was another puff of wind, not so strong as 
 those which had preceded it. Another man rose from 
 his shelter, and we could vaguely see him as he threw 
 a dynamite-stick, and follow with our eyes its tail of 
 hissing fuse as it flew. Caught by the wind in mid- 
 flight, it was swept aside, and fell between the mesa 
 and the pinnacle of rock that stood close beside it. 
 
 "Them fellahs don seem to get the hang o this 
 heah win , somehow," observed Texas, as he watched 
 the dynamite in its flight. " They can t make the 
 My God look ! Again ! " 
 
 I knew what to expect now. On top of the giant 
 splinter of rock, with outlines hazy in the flying sand, 
 stood the figure of the old man. His staff, grasped in 
 one hand, rested on the rock ; with the other hand he 
 was beckoning as though summoning something from 
 the sandy clouds above. 
 
 " He s callin fer more wind," said Liver in an awe 
 struck tone. 
 
 It did seem as though he was, from the short, fierce 
 gust that swept over us. At the same time there was 
 a thud from the base of the great rock that was al 
 ready trembling in the gale. It was the dynamite. 
 Slowly, and at first almost imperceptibly, the rocky 
 pinnacle bowed toward the river. 
 
 " It s falling ! " shouted Liver. " Jump ! Jump fer 
 yer life ! " 
 
 2 55 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 In his anxiety for the safety of the old man, Liver 
 sprang forward, exposing himself recklessly. No one 
 fired at him, however. At the same time I caught a 
 faint glimpse of a couple of our enemies. It was the 
 last we saw of them, for they, too, had evidently 
 caught sight of the old man, and they were in frantic 
 retreat. 
 
 The old man made no attempt to jump. He heard 
 what Liver said, evidently, for he turned and smiled j 
 then, as the rock drew farther away from us in its fall, 
 he faced toward the river and extended his arms as 
 though flying, and so vanished into the storm. We 
 waited for what seemed hours to me. Then there 
 was a sullen, crashing roar as the fallen pinnacle 
 struck the flat, a roar that for a moment seemed to 
 still the wind. 
 
 The men turned toward one another and grinned 
 in a weak kind of way. One of them took a flask 
 from his pocket and drank, then passed it to his 
 neighbors. It was a large flask, but was emptied 
 before it reached far. The men needed it. 
 
 The office building, of course, was ruined beyond 
 hope of repair. While there was light enough to 
 work by we busied ourselves in caring for the body 
 of the man who had been killed and in removing the 
 notes and instruments to a place of safety. As we 
 finished the sun went down, and with it the wind. 
 Darkness immediately followed. 
 
 There had been no time before to think over the 
 late affair ; but now I realized that I was considerably 
 shaken, and so were the others. Our work for the 
 
 256 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 time being finished, we sat on the veranda of the 
 ruined office to rest and to answer the eager questions 
 of the men who had left us at noon, and who had 
 heard nothing of the fight when it was going on. 
 Liver, with his usual restlessness, wandered about the 
 mesa, searching with grim satisfaction for the slain of 
 our enemies. He found two, lying where their com 
 rades had left them. There were no more. Some 
 what disappointed, Liver strolled to the edge of the 
 mesa, and for some time stood looking intently over. 
 
 " Look here," said he, after a time. " There s sun- 
 thin down here on the flat sunthin alive. I can see 
 it." 
 
 " I can t see anything except a sort of a blot," said 
 Bailey. " Can any of you ? " 
 
 We were all looking over the cliff by this time, but 
 we could make out nothing at all defimte. There 
 seemed to be a spot darker than the rest, but I could 
 not see it move. 
 
 "It ain t movin now, but it did move," persisted 
 Liver. "It s somebody what got hurt in the fight, 
 mos like." 
 
 " No matter who it is, we d better go down and see," 
 said I. 
 
 There were counsels against this. In view of the 
 recent appearance the men seemed to regard it in the 
 light of a rather dangerous venture. Still, as they 
 saw that we were determined to start, they got to 
 gether the lanterns that were left unbroken, and ac 
 companied us as we filed through the sunken trail 
 down the cliff and passed out on to the flat. 
 
 257 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 The fallen rock, broken in two pieces, lay deeply 
 embedded in the sand at right angles to the cliff. It 
 blocked our path, and we passed between the two frag 
 ments. Bailey, who was in the lead, stopped and lifted 
 his lantern. Its light fell upon a woman the woman 
 of the store. She was leaning against the rock, and 
 her face, I could see by the lantern-light, was hard 
 and white and set. As she saw us she straightened 
 and looked in some surprise at the party as, one by 
 one, it filed through the break in the rock. 
 
 " What do you here ? n she asked at last, in her curi 
 ous foreign accent. 
 
 For an instant no one answered her. Then Bailey 
 spoke. 
 
 " We were about to ask that question of you," he 
 said gently. " This is no place for a woman, alone, 
 and at night. Is there anything wrong can we help 
 you ? Why are you here ? " 
 
 " No ; there is nothing. He is here, that is why, 7 
 she returned wearily, leaning once more against the 
 stone. 
 
 " Who is here ? " I inquired stupidly. 
 
 " Is it the oP man with the long white beard him 
 what we saw?" asked Liver, squeezing his way for 
 ward. 
 
 " Yes my father," answered the woman at once. 
 "He escaped from me three days ago when the 
 wind blew. He thought he did control that wind, and 
 that it was his friend. Other times he would be quiet 
 quiet like a little child. Only when some one did 
 speak, then out of their mouths he would take the 
 
 258 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 words. But he never was bad lie hurt no one. But 
 when the wind it did begin, then he would get lonely. 
 Then he wanted to see some of his kind men. He 
 wished to tell them that the wind was his creature ; 
 that he could cause it to blow in the way he wanted 
 it to, or he could stop it. He wished to say that if 
 they would tell him the way in which they would have 
 it behave, he would so order it. But the men they 
 would fear. They would not speak to him, and some 
 times they would shoot. Then would he become 
 angered and at the same time affrighted. He would 
 fly, and no one could overtake him. I feared that he 
 would come to harm, and for three days I have pur 
 sued, but overtake him I could not. I traced him this 
 way, and now I find him here." 
 
 " I saw your father as the rock fell," I said consol 
 ingly. " He may not be under here j I doubt if he is. 
 Judging from where he stood, he was probably thrown 
 clear." 
 
 At this suggestion, some of the men who carried 
 lanterns scattered over the flat in search of the body. 
 The woman shook her head, and stooping, picked up 
 from the ground at her feet the fragments of a broken 
 staff. 
 
 " This was his," she said. 
 
 An awkward pause followed, which was finally 
 broken by the woman. 
 
 " Will he be disturbed that is this rock, will it be 
 moved ? " she asked. 
 
 "No," I answered. "We could hardly move it if 
 we wanted to. There are hundreds of tons of rock. 
 
 259 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 It will be submerged in the reservoir when the dam 
 is built. It will lie there forever, probably." 
 
 " That is well," replied the woman. " Here, at least, 
 he can be at rest. No one will persecute him now. 
 He would have wished it so. They would have taken 
 him from me and would have confined him ; therefore 
 I fled from them and brought him here, and did try to 
 earn the bread for us both. That is why your store 
 was burned it would have taken from our mouths 
 the bread, his and mine. And this is a consequent 
 judgment on my head. Now my work has been taken 
 from me, and I will go back I will go. I have no 
 wish to stay." 
 
 She leaned for a moment against the rock. Her 
 arms were resting against the stone, and her face was 
 hidden by them. Then, without turning, she raised 
 her head. 
 
 " Will you be kind and leave me here ? " she said. 
 " I ask of you nothing else, and I will trouble you no 
 more. You will never see me again. Only leave me 
 here, a while, by myself." 
 
 The men dispersed silently. Climbing up the steep 
 path that led to the mesa, I dragged what was left of 
 my bed out on to the ruined veranda, and lying down 
 without undressing, fell into a troubled sleep. How 
 long I slept I have no idea, but it was still night when 
 I awoke to find Liver standing by my bedside. 
 
 " She s gone," he cried excitedly, as he saw that I 
 was awake. " I was a-watehin all the time. I didn t 
 hear a thing, an I didn t see nothin , neither, an when 
 the shadder of the cliff went back, I found she d gone. 
 
 260 
 
The Wind Wraith 
 
 An there s sun thin else lyin* there, too I can jus 
 see a black spot. I didn dare go down there alone. 
 There s sunthin dead queer." 
 
 Aroused by Liver s voice, some of the men who had 
 been sleeping near me began to shake themselves clear 
 of their blankets and stumble to their feet. Lanterns 
 were soon lighted, and once more the party trailed 
 down the pass to the river- flat. 
 
 Sure enough, as Liver had said, the woman was 
 gone. Her footprints were plain in the sand where 
 she had been standing by the fallen rock, and a trail 
 led away from this spot. 
 
 " That s to rds the place where I see that thing- 
 whatever it was on the sand jus now," said Liver, 
 in an awed whisper, pointing down the line of the 
 footprints. Taking a lantern from the hand of a 
 man who held one, Liver led the way, and we all fol 
 lowed. 
 
 " There it is," he said, a minute later. Running 
 forward, he held down the lantern. " It s that ther 7 
 buggy of hers," he said, " an the mule, too. An the 
 mule s dead." 
 
 We had already seen that much. The animal was 
 lying on the broken shaft of the vehicle he had drawn, 
 and as we examined the body, we saw that a thin 
 stream of blood had been flowing from the mouth. 
 
 "Driven to a drop," whispered one of the men; 
 but another shook his head and put his finger on a 
 smooth hole between the eyes. He said nothing. No 
 one spoke except when it was absolutely necessary, 
 and then in whispers. 
 
 261 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Liver, who had been coursing around as a hound 
 circles to regain a lost scent, picked up the trail again, 
 and again we followed it. The dawn was breaking 
 now, its gray light making the flames of the lantern- 
 wicks more sickly and yellow than before j yet in spite 
 of the daylight, which grew stronger every minute, 
 the trail was very hard to follow. The light, clayey 
 sand, swept by the breeze which came with the dawn, 
 made the footprints fainter and more confused. Our 
 progress became slower and slower. One man after 
 another tried to follow, and, experienced as they all 
 were, each one failed in his turn. 
 
 "I guess this settles it," said one, at last. " There 
 just ain t no trail to f oiler, now." Then he turned to 
 Liver. " She said you wouldn t never see her again, 
 didn t she, kid ? " he asked. 
 
 Liver nodded. " An I reckon we never will," he 
 said, " ner hear that ther* voice again, neither." 
 
 And we never did. 
 
 262 
 
THE SALTING OF THE TIO JUAN 
 
THE SALTING OF THE TIO JUAN 
 
 BOOT LEG was approximately quiet, for it was a 
 little after noon, and most of Boot Leg was at 
 dinner. 
 
 Old Mrs. Elkins sat at her table, but she was not 
 eating. Tom, her nephew, noted this fact, and from 
 time to time he would suspend his own energetic 
 attack upon the food long enough to glance uneasily at 
 his aunt. Her conduct was unusual, and it troubled 
 him. It was not her lack of appetite that troubled 
 Tom so much as her abstraction. Ordinarily she was 
 interested in everything; now, each remark offered 
 by Tom was half heard, and answered in monosyl 
 lables, frequently irrelevant ones, and she kept her 
 head turned toward a window in such a manner that 
 Tom could not see her face. 
 
 There was no apparent reason why she should wish 
 to look out of the window. To be sure, the cottage 
 was built on the only eminence in Boot Leg, and the 
 view, therefore, was an extended one, but it was not 
 in the least attractive. The wrinkled, gravelly plain 
 265 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 was as dry as dust. So were the bare, earthy moun 
 tains that bounded it on three sides. Boot Leg, 
 sprawling on the bank of the sluggish little river that 
 contained all the water in sight, was composed largely 
 of adobe houses, and they, too, were bare and dry and 
 earthy. Judging from the fact that while Boot Leg 
 supported but two stores, yet seventeen saloons of 
 one kind and another nourished there, one would 
 think that the inhabitants of Boot Leg might be as 
 dry as the mountains and the plain and the town. 
 And so they were. 
 
 " Ther s a new tenderfoot in town," said Tom, finally, 
 in a last desperate attempt to interest his aunt. 
 "He s the derndest tenderfoot you ever see. He s 
 got pants on that s short an buttoned roun his legs, 
 an he wears his stockin s the stockin s has got 
 razzle-dazzle stripes all over em he wears them 
 stockin s pulled up over his pants. The boys is all 
 laughin at him." 
 
 As he finished speaking, Tom smiled ; but the smile 
 was forced, and betrayed the anxiety that lay beneath 
 it. To his great surprise, Old Mrs. Elkins was inter 
 ested at once. 
 
 " You don mean that theah big one, do yuh ? " she 
 cried. "The one well that theah one with the 
 yellah haiah?" In her eagerness Old Mrs. Elkins s 
 voice, in spite of its soft Southwestern drawl, became 
 almost sharp. 
 
 " Yes, he s big/ 7 replied her nephew. " Big as me 
 bigger, maybe. His hair s sure kinder light, too. He 
 wouldn t be none so slow fer a man if he didn have 
 
 266 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 them fool clo es on. Don see what a man wants ter 
 dress himself up like a monkey for, the way he does." 
 
 " He don t look no moah like a monkey n you do," 
 said Old Mrs. Elkins, indignantly. "Not so much. 
 He hasn t got a brown hide like you. I don see 
 what yuh wantah run down a puhson foh, jus because 
 he happens to be bettah-lookin than you." 
 
 Tom looked at his aunt in blank astonishment. 
 Never before had he heard her speak in this way. He 
 regarded it as another proof that her health was 
 failing. 
 
 "Look here," said he, anxiously, after a moment s 
 pause 5 " I m a-go n ter get that ther doctor f om Gila 
 Bend ter come over an have a look at you. Ther s 
 sunthin slipped a cog. I seen it yes day. I m a-go n ter 
 wire fer that ther 7 doctor." Tom half rose from his 
 chair as he spoke. 
 
 "Set down," said Old Mrs. Elkins, imperiously. 
 " Now tell me. Did you see that theah tendahfoot 
 tah speak to ? " 
 
 " No, not partic lar. Asked him ter have a drink, 
 an he said he wasn t drinkin . That s all," replied 
 Tom, reseating himself according to the instructions 
 of his aunt and his lifelong habit of obedience to her. 
 " A lot er the boys was kinder givin him the laugh," 
 he added. 
 
 "What dhedo?" 
 
 "Didn t do nothin . Didn say a word. Looked 
 
 kinder mad, though, long bout the las . You see, 
 
 some er the boys was a-gettin kinder owly, an was 
 
 what you might call personal. Shouldn t wonder if 
 
 267 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 that ther tenderfoot didn get hot under the collar an 
 go fer some one bimeby. Then ther ll be trouble fer 
 the tenderfoot, mos like." 
 
 " Theah ll be trouble foh the man that runs gains 
 him. I ll see tuh that myself. Have yuh got th ough 
 eatin ? " Tom replied in the affirmative. " Then you 
 go wheah was that tendahfoot ? Hotel? Well, then 
 you go down tuh the hotel an 7 see that theah ain t no 
 trouble. You get tuh know that theah tendahfoot, 
 an bring him back heah as soon s you can, an make 
 him stay tuh suppah. Now go, Tawm, I know what 
 I want all right, an it ain t no doctah." 
 
 Tom departed, wondering greatly. What his aunt 
 wanted with this tenderfoot more than with any one 
 of the others who now and then passed through the 
 town, he could not imagine. Still, she did want him, 
 and therefore he must come. The idea that the young 
 man himself might decline the invitation never crossed 
 Tom s mind. He was not alone in his habit of obedi 
 ence to Old Mrs. Elkins. The whole town shared it. 
 She was the one woman to whom Boot Leg, mas 
 culine almost to a unit, could point with pride. 
 
 Every one called her " OP Mis Elkins," and truly 
 she looked older than many women do at seventy, 
 though her age, she said, was but fifty-four, and Old 
 Mrs. Elkins was not one to lie about her age or about 
 anything else. Little, stooped, and shrunken, dressed 
 always in neat calico, her white hair strained back 
 from her gentle face, she did not seem at all like a 
 heroine of the tales of famine and drought and blood 
 shed that had become traditions in Boot Leg. 
 
 268 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 She had been born and bred on the frontier ; nearly 
 all her life had been spent far from even the smallest 
 settlement, in the desert country of the Southwest. 
 Boot Leg, to her, was a centre of civilization, yet 
 even now a small lump that always appeared on the 
 bosom of Old Mrs. Elkins s calico gown was generally 
 known to be caused by a weapon that rested there, a 
 weapon that she would as soon have thought of leav 
 ing off as she would the gown itself, and which no 
 man could use with more quickness and accuracy. 
 
 When Boot Leg pointed with pride to Old Mrs. 
 Elkins, it did so from a distance. She did not en 
 courage familiarity, and the fact that she had never, 
 until now, asked any man into her house made the 
 present invitation more remarkable. Furthermore, 
 Tom did not know how to deliver it. He was not 
 acquainted with this young man, and it is difficult 
 for a diffident person and Tom was diffident to 
 deliver an invitation of this kind to a stranger. For 
 some time Tom strolled aimlessly about, bringing up 
 at last at the primitive little building that called itself 
 a hotel with a resolution to speak to the stranger and 
 have it over with. 
 
 The bar-room was crowded, as at this time of day 
 it always was. In the evening the gambling-saloons 
 and dance-halls took the people elsewhere. On the 
 veranda sat the tenderfoot, pretending not to hear 
 the comments on his appearance made by the men in 
 the bar-room. There was no one with him. Rather 
 at a loss how to open a conversation, Tom seated him 
 self by the stranger s side. For a moment or two he 
 269 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 shifted uneasily ; then, to cover his embarrassment, he 
 pulled from his pocket a pipe and tobacco-bag. The 
 bag proved to be empty. 
 
 " Try mine," said the young man by his side, hand 
 ing over a pouch. 
 
 Tom filled his pipe, lighted it, and took a couple of 
 puffs, then, nodding thanks, returned the pouch. 
 
 " That there s good tobaccer," said he. 
 
 " Glad you like it," returned the other. 
 
 Then there was a long pause, during which Tom 
 smoked vigorously, and looked at his companion out 
 of the corners of his eyes. 
 
 " Didn come Pom roun here now er s I " hazarded 
 Tom, at length. 
 
 11 No," replied the tenderfoot. 
 
 Another pause, in which, as before, Tom observed 
 the other man keenly. 
 
 The remarks from the saloon were becoming more 
 and more offensive. Tom looked at his companion 
 in a gentle amazement that he would allow them to 
 pass unnoticed. Then he got mildly indignant on 
 behalf of this stranger. 
 
 " Ther s some fools in there what want lickin ," said 
 he, after a while. 
 
 " They ll get it in about five minutes more," answered 
 the young fellow, more quickly than he had yet 
 spoken. "I don t want any trouble, and I haven t 
 said anything, but I m getting pretty sick of it now." 
 
 " I d a got sick some time back," rejoined Tom, sym 
 pathetically. " Can you shoot ? " As he spoke he made 
 a motion as though drawing and firing a pistol. 
 270 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 The young fellow shook his head. "Not to speak 
 of," said he. 
 
 " Some er them fellers can," said Tom, " an ther s 
 some er them what wouldn t min shootin a man like 
 you what wasn t heeled, neither. Course I could kill 
 him afterward," he added reflectively, "but that 
 wouldn do much good. Reckon I c n fix it, though. 
 Look here ! You willin ter lick two er three er 
 them fellers?" 
 
 " Be most happy," said the tenderfoot, rising from 
 his seat. Tom also rose, and, followed by the other, 
 made two or three quick steps toward the bar-room 
 door, but before he reached it he suddenly stopped 
 and faced around. 
 
 " Look here," said he ; "I don know whether I 
 oughter do this thing er not. I got ter take you home 
 ith me feat supper. My aunt, 01 Mis Elkins, she 
 tol me ter bring yer, an if I got you damaged I don 
 know what she d say. But maybe you d better go 
 through with it, now you started. Come on." 
 
 Entering the room, the two men strolled toward the 
 bar. Tom asked the tenderfoot his name. 
 
 "Joyce Robert Joyce," said he. 
 
 " Mine s Tom Caruthers," said Tom. He leaned his 
 back against the bar and looked around the room. 
 All eyes were on him and his companion. 
 
 " Look here, gentlemen, if you ll allow me ter use 
 that ther expression," said he, addressing the crowd. 
 " This yere young feller is Mr. Bob Joyce, what has 
 jus struck the town. He s heard some er you a-talkin 
 in a way that s kinder personal bout them there socks 
 271 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 what lie s got on. Now he allows that it ain t none 
 er your business what kinder socks he wears, an if 
 anybody thinks he d like ter make it his business, all 
 he s got ter do is ter step right up an interview Mr. 
 Bob Joyce on the subject." He paused, and again he 
 looked around the room. No one spoke. 
 
 " Come," Tom went on, " we can t wait here all 
 night jus fer your convenience. Step lively an come 
 along, one at a time. Now s the time ter subscribe. 
 Nobody comin ? Where s yer sportin blood ? Here s 
 fifty dollars, all or any part of it, on Mr. Bob Joyce 
 gainst any man here; at evens; guns an knives 
 barred." He paused again, and then went on : " Five 
 ter four, then. No takers ? Five ter three. Nobody 
 yet? Two ter one. Now, then, that s my las offer. 
 You fellers is a kinder jack-rabbity crowd. So long 
 we can t wait no longer. Only don t say you ain t 
 had a fair chance fer a firs -class lickin , that s all." 
 
 As he finished speaking he motioned Joyce to pre 
 cede him, and then backed out of the door. Once out 
 side he hurried his companion down the road and 
 around the corner of an adobe building. 
 
 "Now we know where we re at," said he. "It 
 wasn noway likely that none er them fellers would 
 do anything but you can t never tell. Ther s some 
 that d like ter. They ll all be dead sore on you now, 
 after that bluff I chucked. You wanter look out fer 
 that ther crowd." 
 
 " Do you mean that they ll shoot me in the back ? " 
 asked Joyce, uneasily. 
 
 " No, maybe not. Likely they ll try n get you inter 
 272 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 an argerment, though, an 7 then let that kinder make 
 an openin . Have ter keep yer gun handy, that s 
 all." 
 
 " But I haven t any gun," said the younger man, 
 rather concerned at the prospect before him. 
 
 Tom, however, seemed to take it as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 "Oh, well," said he, in a soothing tone, "you c n 
 get one ter-morrer. Here we are at the house. 
 That s her, stan in in the door, there." 
 
 In the excitement of the affair at the hotel, the 
 invitation that he was on his way to accept had 
 entirely slipped Joyce s mind. Now he recollected it 
 with impatience. He was too anxious about himself 
 to relish the idea of taking tea with an unknown old 
 woman. Still, at the sight of the little figure smiling, 
 almost bashfully, in the doorway, Joyce smiled back 
 again, and pulled off his cap. 
 
 " She s taken a shine ter you, somehow r another," 
 said Tom, in a whisper. " Never knowed her ter do 
 that with no one before, but it s mighty lucky f er you 
 she has. There ain t many women like her roun 
 here, you bet ner now er s else." 
 
 There was an awkward moment as the three en 
 tered the bare little room that seemed to be at once 
 kitchen and living- and dining-room, and into which 
 the front door opened. Old Mrs. Elkins stood smil 
 ing at her visitor, and gazing at him intently, yet 
 with an air of feeble deprecation that was quite new 
 to her at least, Tom never before had seen this 
 manner in his imperious little aunt. No one knew 
 
 273 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 exactly what to say, and there was a pause for a 
 moment, which was broken by Joyce. 
 
 " It was awfully good of you to ask me up here in 
 this way/ 7 said he. " One doesn t look for that kind 
 of thing from strangers anywhere, far less in a place 
 like this* Your nephew gave me no time to change my 
 clothes, so I hope you ll pardon them. Won t you ? " 
 
 Joyce was talking simply in order to relieve the 
 awkwardness of the situation, but Old Mrs. Elkins en 
 tirely misunderstood the last part of his speech. She 
 knew that the clothes he was wearing had exposed him 
 to ridicule, and thought that he had become sensitive 
 about them. She glanced at the golf-stockings, and 
 then defiantly at her nephew, before she spoke. 
 
 "I think theah mighty pretty," said she. Tom 
 grinned, and was rewarded with a look of severe 
 reproof from his aunt. "Tawm, theah, is a good 
 boy," she went on apologetically, "but theah s a lot 
 ah things what he oughtah know about that he don t. 
 Mannahs is one." 
 
 Tom, snubbed into silence for the time being, re 
 tired, while Old Mrs. Elkins bustled nervously about 
 the room, making unnecessary changes in its meagre 
 arrangements. 
 
 Whenever she thought she was unobserved, Joyce 
 could see that his hostess was looking at him intently. 
 Sometimes she found that she had been discovered in 
 this act, and then was thrown into a state of such 
 pitiable confusion that after one or two occasions of 
 the kind Joyce refrained from looking at her. But 
 he knew that her eyes were constantly upon him, and 
 
 274 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 the knowledge made him uncomfortable. He tried 
 to draw her into conversation, at first with indifferent 
 success ; but after a while she began asking questions. 
 Most searching questions they were. Joyce astonished 
 himself by the readiness with which he answered them. 
 
 Ordinarily, Joyce objected strongly to the examina 
 tions through which every chance acquaintance, since 
 he had come West, had tried to put him. The ques 
 tions of Mrs. Elkins, however, did not offend him in 
 the least. Perhaps the apologetic manner in which 
 they were made was accountable for this singular fact ; 
 probably their being so evidently prompted by a real 
 interest instead of vulgar curiosity had still more to 
 do with it. At all events, he answered her as he 
 would have answered an elderly relative ; told her all 
 about himself and his home, and his reasons for leav 
 ing it. He had a little money, it seemed, and would 
 have more. In the meantime, he had come West "to 
 see what there was in the country," as he expressed 
 it, and to make money, if he could, in some one of the 
 many profitable enterprises that were, as he thought, 
 constantly offering themselves. 
 
 " I don know what theah is roun heah," said Old 
 Mrs. Elkins, thoughtfully, as Joyce told her this. 
 " Gamblin needs experience, even if you run a squaiah 
 game, an theah s too many saloons heah now. It d 
 be a business too rough foh you, anyhow. Theah s 
 nothin lef but minin , 7 s I c n see. We c n talk that 
 ovah. Suppah s ready now ; will you come ? " 
 
 Tom, who was lounging on the veranda, came in 
 at his aunt s call. As they seated themselves Joyce 
 
 275 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 hastened to assure his hostess that he had no thought 
 of pursuing as a profession either saloon-keeping or 
 gambling. Mining he had not only thought of going 
 into, but had actually gone. Only the day before 
 the day of his coming to Boot Leg he had bought a 
 mine, and now intended working it. 
 
 " Now that theah s too bad ! " cried Old Mrs. Elkins, 
 in unexpected dismay, laying down her knife and 
 fork. 
 
 Tom swore a little in an undertone, and then asked : 
 " Which one er them fellers was it that yer bought 
 from ? I thought mos all er them what had holes ter 
 sell was in that ther crowd we saw down ter the hotel 
 awhile back. You sure wasn t so frien ly with any er 
 them that they could work yer like that." 
 
 " The man that sold it to me was in that crowd," 
 admitted Joyce. " The crowd wasn t uncivil then, 
 though. That all came afterward. He came to me 
 last night and told me about this mine he had to sell. 
 Said it was a good mine, and that he wouldn t part 
 with it except that he was too ill to work it himself, 
 and wanted to get it off his hands as quickly as he 
 could, and then go back where he came from. Said 
 the climate here didn t agree with him" 
 
 " Don know where twas he come f om, but I know 
 mighty well where he ll go to," interrupted Tom. 
 " An the climate won t suit him, neither. Didn t yer 
 see he was lyin ? Men don t sell payin mines like 
 thet." 
 
 "That s what I thought at first, but he took me 
 down to this mine of his, it was bright moonlight, 
 276 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 and he d brought a lantern besides, and he washed 
 out a panful and showed me the results. Then he 
 told me to dig out some and wash it, and I did. The 
 pans showed up handsomely very. I don t see but 
 what I ve got a pretty good thing." 
 
 Joyce looked at his two auditors with a mild 
 triumph, but to his surprise they both seemed to 
 regard his purchase in the light of a calamity. 
 
 " Which one of em was it what sol this heah mine ? n 
 Old Mrs. Elkins asked. " He s right bout the climate. 
 It won t agree with him. I ll see tuh that. 7 
 
 "I don t remember the man s name it s on the 
 papers," said Joyce ; " and the name of the mine is on 
 the papers, too. The man that sold it to me said 
 that it meant Uncle John in English. Oh, yes ; the 
 man s name is Riley j I remember, now." 
 
 " Tio Juan, is it ? I don t seem ter remember no 
 such mine. What Riley was it? Ther s two of em 
 in town. One of em is Irish, and the other has erbout 
 half his face twixt his nose and his mouth, an he talks 
 kinder funny ; says l nowt when he means i nothin . " 
 
 " That s the one," said Joyce, looking around him 
 somewhat uneasily. " What s the matter with him ? 
 Isn t the mine all right ? n 
 
 "Lippy Riley," said Tom, not answering Joyce s 
 question, but looking, as he spoke, at his aunt. She 
 nodded, her face full of concern. 
 
 " Isn t the mine all right ? " asked Joyce again, his 
 anxiety growing. " The ground that I dug and that 
 I washed the gold out of hadn t ever been touched ; 
 I can swear to that." 
 
 277 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " No ; it hadn t never been touched, prob ly j not to 
 be dug up, that is ; but it s been salted, jus the same, if 
 Lippy Riley so? it. I see him myself loadin up shot 
 gun ca tridges with gol -dus , not more n two er three 
 days ago. Had more n a hundred of em; but he 
 always keeps a lot on han , so s it ain t noway likely 
 that he used up all of em on that ther claim er yours. 
 Is this yere hole in the groun jus down here a ways by 
 the river, so s you have ter go by the hotel ter get to 
 it f om here ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Joyce. " But what do you mean 
 about the cartridges f I don t understand." 
 
 "He put this heah gol -dus intah a gun, an then 
 shot it intah the groun so you could dig it out again, 
 an the groun itself wouldn t look as though no man 
 had evah been theah befoah," Old Mrs. Elkins ex 
 plained pityingly. "He mus give the money back. 
 You see him, Tawm, will yoh ? " 
 
 " Sure I ll see him," assented Tom, readily. " Don 
 see what good that s a-go n ter be ter Bob, here, though, 
 thout it s the satisfaction." 
 
 "I don want yoh tah shoot the man not until 
 aftah we get this money back, anyhow," said Mrs. 
 Elkins, sharply. " D yuh think every time I tell yuh 
 tah see a man I want yuh tah shoot him ? Make him 
 give the money back that s what he mus do." 
 
 "All right," said Tom. "Don see how yer a- 
 go n ter work it, though." 
 
 Old Mrs. Elkins leaned over the table and began 
 talking in a low tone to her nephew. There was no 
 intention of keeping the conversation from Joyce s 
 
 278 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 ears, yet he heard nothing. What they had told him 
 of this mine was a great blow. For some reason, he 
 could not help believing these people. He vainly 
 tried to think that they were acting from some ulterior 
 motive. As to their getting his money back from 
 Riley, he had no confidence in that. The sooner he 
 made his mind up to the loss, the better. In public 
 he would try to maintain the appearance of being a 
 good loser, but in the meantime he was distinctly 
 blue, the more so because these fits of despondency 
 were almost unknown to him. He was aroused from 
 his study by Tom s hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " I got ter go down, now, an go ter work," said he. 
 " Maybe you better walk along with me, seein how 
 you ain t got no gun. Ill have ter go right by that 
 ther hotel. Ther ll be two of us then, an I reckon 
 ther won t be no trouble." 
 
 Joyce rose and started to bid his hostess good night. 
 Tom threw on his hat and strolled out of the door. 
 Joyce was following him, but Old Mrs. Elkins seemed 
 very reluctant to let him go. She retained his hand, 
 as he offered it, so that he could not draw it away 
 without using a degree of force. 
 
 "Maybe I seem kinder kinder familious, like, in 
 this heah way I been a-talkin t yoh," said she, apolo 
 getically. " But yoh won min , will yoh ? Yoh see, 
 I m an ol woman, an no one don min what I do." 
 
 Joyce began eagerly to disclaim any idea of taking 
 offence, but she interrupted him. 
 
 " We ll get that theah money back foh you, Tawm 
 an ; I will. You ll agree tuh let Tawm try, won t 
 
 279 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 yoh? Yoh see," she went on, after hesitating for a 
 moment, " I had a boy once. He d a been bout youah 
 age now, if he d lived. I think he d a looked sunthin 
 like you. I got his picture heah. Would maybe 
 wouldn t yoh like tah see it ? " 
 
 Joyce smiled and nodded. The old woman beamed 
 on him for an instant, then turned to a table that 
 stood near, and from between the leaves of a gaudily 
 bound book that lay upon it she produced a tintype. 
 It was a very old tintype. The pink paper that in 
 cased it had faded until it was nearly white, and on 
 the edges it was worn through. She carefully folded 
 back the cover, and then gazed for a moment at the 
 picture before handing it to Joyce. 
 
 "It suah has got youah look in it it suhtainly 
 has," said she. 
 
 Joyce examined the picture carefully. In spite of 
 the artificial complexion by means of which the 
 photographer had endeavored to enhance its beauty, 
 it did cruel violence to Joyce s vanity. His first feel 
 ing was one of profound disgust that he could be 
 thought by any stretch of the imagination to resemble 
 the face that stared at him from that picture. 
 
 "Don yoh think it looks like yoh can t yoh see 
 how it does?" asked Old Mrs. Elkins, wistfully. 
 " Roun the eyes, theah, an the chin." 
 
 Joyce glanced at the withered face that was look 
 ing into his, eagerly awaiting his reply, and then lied 
 nobly. 
 
 "Yes, there is a resemblance," said he, "a very 
 strong resemblance striking." 
 
 280 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 The old woman flushed with pleasure as he laid the 
 picture carefully in her work-hardened palm. She 
 turned to replace it in the book, and as she did so 
 Tom reappeared in the doorway. 
 
 " Look-a yere," he cried good-naturedly. " If you re 
 goin along er me, you ll have ter get a wiggle on. I 
 got ter get ter work." 
 
 "He s a-goin , Tawm; he s a-go n tah staht right 
 now. Didn yoh say yoh had no gun?" she asked, 
 addressing Joyce. 
 
 "No, I haven t," he replied. "I don t need one 
 now, though, if I m going down with Tom. I ll get 
 one in the morning, if necessary." 
 
 " You don nevah know when youah go n tah need 
 one an when youah not," said his hostess, reprov 
 ingly. " Don nevah talk that way ; that kindah talk 
 has seen the en ah some mighty good men. Take 
 this." As she spoke she drew from the bosom of 
 her gown a double-barrelled derringer and held it 
 toward him. "Yoh couldn have nothin bettah foh 
 shawt range," she went on, mistaking the reason for 
 Joyce s hesitation in taking the proffered weapon. 
 " This one ain t neah so hahd tuh cock as the run ah 
 them derringahs. Put it in the outside pocket ah 
 that theah jacket, an keep youah han in theah, too. 
 Then, if yoh have tuh shoot, get as close as yoh can 
 an tuhn it loose right th ough the pocket. An do it 
 quick." 
 
 " But I don t want to take your pistol," Joyce ex 
 postulated. " You d be without any then, and really, 
 I haven t any particular use for it now." 
 281 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " Don yuh s pose I got anothah ? n asked Old Mrs. 
 Elkins, impatiently. " Take it." 
 
 " Why don yer take it, like she tells yer to ? " said 
 Tom, amazed that any one should thus trifle with the 
 mandates of his aunt. "Come along. I got ter 
 hurry. Good night." 
 
 He waved his hand to the little woman standing in 
 the doorway, and then hastened off. Joyce put the 
 derringer in his pocket and followed. 
 
 " Good night," Old Mrs. Elkins called after them. 
 "Don take youah han outah youah pocket at all; 
 then yoh can t go wrong. Remembah that." 
 
 " She s dead right," Tom agreed; "but that she al- 
 wus is. You won t need ter do no shootin ter-night, 
 though, mos likely, not thout you runs yerself right 
 agains it. I don t reckon I ll go ter work ter-night. 
 I ll be fresher in the mornin , then." 
 
 " Rather an odd time to go to work, anyhow, isn t 
 it ? " asked Joyce. 
 
 " No. It s the reg lar time in my business. Ther 
 ain t nothin doin in the daytime. I run the Easy- 
 Go didn t yer know that? It s a square game. 
 Gener ly I deal one er the tables myself, but I ll put 
 somebody else on this evenin . Ter-morrer I start in 
 at work on that ther mine er yours. We re pardners 
 in that mine, you n me. Don ferget that, an be 
 careful you don t queer no other bluff I chuck. It ll 
 take some play ter pull Lippy Riley fer the wad he 
 got outer you. You go ? n turn in now. Ther 7 ain t 
 no need fer yer ter be roun that there hole in the 
 groun what yer call the Tio Juan, an yer better away ; 
 
 282 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 but if yer meander down there some time in the 
 course er the forenoon, it won t do no harm." 
 
 Joyce began to ask questions, but Tom cut him 
 short. " Never min what I m a-go n ter do/ said he. 
 "I don t rightly know myself, yet. But Lippy U 
 cough up that ther* boodle fore I m done with him. 
 There he is now, on the veranda er the hotel, there. 
 I m a-go n ter commence. Don t do nothin ter queer 
 my game, now." 
 
 Tom walked quickly up the steps of the veranda, 
 and exclaimed : " Well, Lippy, how re they comin ! " 
 
 "All right, I reckon," growled the other, suspi 
 ciously. 
 
 " You know my frien , here, Mr. Bob Joyce," Tom 
 went on. " You orter, anyhow. I don reckon yerll 
 fergit him like this." Tom threw back his head and 
 laughed uproariously. The laugh seemed to Joyce 
 too natural to be wholly assumed. " Come on, now, 
 an have a drink," Tom concluded. " I reckon we owe 
 a drink ter you." 
 
 Riley did not decline invitations of this kind, no 
 matter how suspicious he might be. He rose and 
 followed the other two into the bar-room. As the 
 bartender saw them coming, he set out a bottle of 
 dubious whiskey as a matter of course, and skated 
 three thick-bottomed glasses over the bar. 
 
 "Well, Lippy / said Tom, as they aU three filled 
 their glasses, "here s luck ter the Tio Juan long may 
 she wave." 
 
 They drank, and returned their glasses to the bar 
 with a simultaneous thump. Lippy sighed a sigh of 
 283 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 deep satisfaction and wiped his lips with the back of 
 his hand. 
 
 " So long, Lippy," said Tom, as they finished. " I m 
 a-go n ter take a look at them there papers now. I 
 reckon they re all right, though, ain t they? You 
 know Bob Joyce an me has took on as pardners. I m 
 startin in work there in the mornin . Bob, here, was 
 ter work ter-day, an I reckon he cleared out moster 
 that shotgun gold er yours. That s clear velvit. See 
 y again ; good night." As he finished speaking Tom 
 caught Joyce by the arm and led him quickly from 
 the room. 
 
 " There ! " said he, as they drew out of ear-shot of 
 the bar-room. " I reckon I give em sun thin ter think 
 about until mornin , now. What s the number er yer 
 cage ? " 
 
 "My room, do you mean?" inquired Joyce. 
 
 Tom nodded. 
 
 "Sure," said he. "That s it? All right, then. 
 That s all I wanter know. I promised her I d see 
 you safe in yer room. What I said about lookin at 
 the papers was all a bluff I don t care nothin about 
 them. Any time you happen ter turn out, jus stroll 
 down ter the Tio Juan an watch me diggin gold out 
 in hunks. Only don t you say a word I m a-runnin 
 this yere game now. Good night." 
 
 Tom gently pushed his companion inside the bare 
 little stall that posed, in the Boot Leg hotel, for a 
 room, and then closed the door and left him. 
 
 As Tom s footsteps stamped down the resounding 
 stairs and then died away, Joyce drew the slender 
 284 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 bolt that secured his door, and, laying the derringer 
 of Old Mrs. Elkins on a chair by the head of his bed, 
 rapidly undressed. 
 
 As he passed by the hotel veranda on his way to 
 the Tio Juan, the next morning, several of the men he 
 had seen the night before were sitting there. Relig 
 iously he kept his hand on the derringer in his pocket, 
 as Old Mrs. Elkins had told him to, but no one offered 
 to interfere with him. Scowling looks and a muttered 
 growl from one or two of the men seemed to serve as 
 a source of amusement for the rest. A rumor that in 
 some unknown way Joyce had got the better of Riley 
 in a mining deal was current among the men, and, 
 though Joyce did not know it, had raised him many 
 degrees in their estimation. He passed on without 
 speaking to them, and hurried down the path that led 
 down the river, where Tom was standing waist deep 
 in the shallow depression that marked the Tio Juan. 
 Several men were lounging about the edge. 
 
 " Mornin , Bob," called Tom, cheerily, as Joyce ap 
 proached. " These yere gentlemen is anxious ter get 
 at the bottom fact about this yere mine. They been 
 askin me questions till they re black in the face." 
 
 " What did you tell them ? " asked Joyce. 
 
 "No thin , only that if we was willin ter have a salted 
 hole in the ground shoved off on us fer a mine, they 
 oughtn t ter have no kick comin , that s all. Come over 
 here a bit, Bob ; I got sunthin I wanter see yer about." 
 
 Taking the hint, the men laughed the uneasy laugh 
 of those who wish to conciliate, and then moved away. 
 Tom drew his partner to one side. 
 
 285 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " I wanted ter get rid er them ducks," said Tom, as 
 the last man disappeared. " They keeps on tryin ter 
 get me ter tell why I m in this yere business when I 
 alwus said I hadn t no use fer mines. They think 
 you re some big minin sharp what s seen all along 
 that this is a good thing, an got it cheap f m Lippy 
 an then let me in. The claims on both sides has gone 
 up so s no one can t buy em. I ain t said a word, 
 only that you thought you knowed a good thing 
 when you see it, an couldn t let no chance slip. There 
 ain t no lie in none er that, you see. They re foolin 
 themselves, though. Lippy Riley was down here 
 twice already. Oh, we ll get him all right, all right. 
 Jus you watch me come home at noon. Oh, say, 
 I mos f ergot ! She tol me ter tell yer, come up t th 
 house as soon s yer can, an stay ter dinner. Here 
 she comes, now; an here comes Lippy Riley, too. 
 You better mosey long, so s yer won t queer my 
 game. I ll be home in an hour er two." 
 
 As Tom finished speaking, Riley and Old Mrs. 
 Elkins appeared, coming from different directions. 
 From his manner, Riley evidently wished to speak 
 with Tom, and Joyce, therefore, went to meet Old 
 Mrs. Elkins, who at once took him home with her. 
 
 " Set right down heah an smoke youah pipe, an let 
 me know when yoh see Tawm a-comin ," said she, as 
 they reached her cottage, pointing to a box that stood 
 on the little veranda. "I m a-go n tah get dinnah 
 ready, an I d like tah know when tah set it out." 
 
 Joyce knew perfectly well that it was in order to 
 keep him from wandering into possible danger that 
 
 286 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 he was stationed in that place, yet he accepted the 
 situation as meekly as Tom himself could have done. 
 Old Mrs. El kins had a wonderful faculty of obtain 
 ing obedience from those with whom she came in 
 contact. 
 
 The shade and the cool breeze that blew over this 
 elevated spot were grateful enough after the glare 
 and heat of the plain below, and the time passed not 
 unpleasantly to Joyce as he sat there. He could see 
 nearly down to the Tio Juan itself, so that Tom had 
 hardly left the mine when Joyce spied him. He called 
 the news to Old Mrs. Elkins, and then sat watching 
 Tom as he approached. In his left hand Tom was 
 carrying a bundle done up in a red bandanna hand 
 kerchief ; his right hand was resting on the pistol 
 that hung in his belt. It seemed to be a very heavy 
 bundle, for once Tom set it down and rested a minute. 
 
 When he lifted it again, something fell from it, 
 apparently unperceived by Tom, who took up his jour 
 ney toward the house without looking back. 
 
 The thing that dropped from the bundle, whatever 
 it was, was at once pounced upon by two or three 
 men who were following Tom at some distance. They 
 examined it eagerly, passing it from one to the other, 
 and then putting their heads together in an excited 
 group. They were still standing in this way when 
 Tom came up the steps and, with a nod to Joyce, 
 carried his bundle directly into the house. 
 
 "Look here, Tom, did you know that you dropped 
 something out of that bundle just now ? " asked Joyce, 
 following Tom into the house. 
 
 287 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 Tom winked knowingly. " I know all erbout that," 
 said he. "It was gold what they picked up a little 
 nugget. I see them fellers a-follerin 7 me, so I thought 
 I d give em sunthin 7 ter think erbout. It ll keep 7 em 
 guessin 7 fer a while, I reckon. 7 
 
 Tom opened the handkerchief as he was speaking, 
 disclosing a lot of water- worn pebbles from the river 
 bed. He shied them out of the window, one after 
 another, then shook out the handkerchief and put it 
 in his pocket. 
 
 " Don t ask no questions," said he, seeing that Joyce 
 was looking at him curiously. " I m runnin 7 this here 
 Tio Juan outfit now, an 7 I m sure a-runnin her fer 
 all she s worth, too. Dinner ready ? Well, jus wait a 
 week, an I ll be ready, too." 
 
 Taking a tin basin from where it hung on a nail, 
 Tom left the room. Outside he was heard to splash 
 and sputter for a minute or two, after which he re 
 turned, red and polished, and took his seat at the 
 table. He was in high spirits as he hurried through 
 with his dinner. 
 
 " They re sure a-bitin 7 ," said he, between the mouth- 
 fuls, " Riley mos 7 of all. I had three offers fer the 
 Tio Juan already this mornin 7 , an 7 I reckon I 7 11 get 
 one to reach my figgers fore night. I tell em the 
 mine ain t no good, an they think I m lyin . I says 
 I don t see s I got any call fer to try n sell the mine, 
 an 7 wouldn 7 t, only that you wanter; an 7 that they 
 s wallers whole an 7 there ain t no lie in it. I ain t 
 told a lie yet, though I could a put up some gilt-edged 
 ones if I d a had ter. Oh, say, it s great sport ! " Tom 
 
 288 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 stopped in order to laugh, but choked the laugh 
 short, and added more gravely : " Look-a yere ; you 
 wanter keep them papers where you c n get at em 
 sudden when I come fer em, an I m liable ter come 
 mos any time. Got em here ? Yes ? That s right. 
 Well, I mus go now." 
 
 " Don t you think I d better go with you?" asked 
 Joyce. 
 
 " Not much ! " replied Tom, emphatically. " Why, 
 you couldn t do no good might knock the whole 
 business. Besides, there ain t no tellin what Lippv 
 Riley U do. He ain t a nice boy, an he ain t none too 
 pleased by thinkin he sol a mine when he meant ter 
 shove the salt onto a tenderfoot. You stay here along 
 er her. She s a better man n he is, any time." 
 
 " I don t want anybody to take care of me ; I can 
 take care of myself," cried Joyce, hotly, rather indig 
 nant at the idea of being consigned to the protection 
 of a woman. 
 
 Tom grinned indulgently. 
 
 " That s all right," he said consolingly. " I knowed 
 you was all there when it comes to a scrap fists an* 
 that ; but this yere would be a fight, an you said you 
 couldn t shoot." 
 
 " I said I wasn t much good with a pistol I ve not 
 practised much. I ve won a few prizes at the pigeons, 
 though, and I don t think I d miss a man at twenty 
 yards rise," replied Joyce, looking at a shotgun that 
 stood in a corner. 
 
 " You don t say ! That s good. Well, there s twelve 
 buckshot in each bar*!, if the charges are like I left 
 289 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 em, an the ca tridges is on the shelf. You won t 
 have no call to use her, mos like. See you later." 
 
 Tom swung out of the door, and his footsteps died 
 away as he walked rapidly down the road. Joyce 
 picked up the gun, threw open the breech, and with 
 drawing the two cartridges, looked at the pasteboard 
 wads that closed them. On each was printed with a 
 rubber stamp the letters " Bck.," and underneath, " 4J 
 dr." Joyce examined the weapon critically, and in a 
 manner that showed his familiarity with its use, before 
 replacing the charges and setting it carefully aside. 
 Old Mrs. Elkins was watching him closely. 
 
 " Yoh know how tah use it, all right," said she, as 
 Joyce closed the breech and set down the gun. " Any 
 one could see that. I m glad yoh can ; Tawm ll think 
 all the bettah of yoh foh it. Not that he don think 
 well of yoh now," she hastened to add, "but he ll 
 think moah yet if yoh can shoot. He ain t much with 
 a shawtgun himself, but theah ain t nobody roun 
 heah that can best him with a six-shootah. If theah 
 was only time, yoh could take him out an show him. 
 But theah ain t time." 
 
 "Not time? Why not?" asked Joyce. "I d like 
 awfully well to go shooting with him, as soon as this 
 affair is settled. I can go any time, then." 
 
 Old Mrs. Elkins made no reply to Joyce s ques 
 tions. 
 
 " My boy him that s gone him that you look like 
 was a mighty fine han with a shawtgun," said she, 
 with an air of timidity that always came over her 
 when this subject was introduced. " Theah wasn no 
 
 290 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 men that could beat him, back where we lived then, 
 in Texas. An 7 he wasn only sixteen yeah ol ." 
 
 " I suppose he had lots of chances to practise," said 
 Joyce, rather at a loss what to say. " Very likely he 
 could use a six-shooter pretty well, too. Couldn t he ? 
 
 Her face flushed with pride. " The othah men had 
 the drawp," she replied, " an 7 they was three tah one ; 
 yet my boy fiahed two shawts an got one man bef oah 
 he fell. He d killed the brothah of one ah the men 
 foh beatin a woman a greasah woman j that s what 
 stahted it." 
 
 " I don t wonder that you re proud of that boy of 
 yours," said Joyce. Old Mrs. Elkins gave him a look 
 full of gratitude, then went to a window and stood 
 looking out. Joyce did not care to pursue further so 
 delicate a subject. " Isn t it awfully odd," he asked, 
 " that those chaps who went and salted this mine and 
 sold it to me will turn right around and buy it again ? " 
 
 "No, it ain t noways strange," she replied. "Men 
 what goes intah a game like that don nevah seem tah 
 think that they can be done on the same lay. I seen 
 it wuhked times outah min . Besides, they all know 
 Tawm don t like diggin none too well, an they ll 
 think that he wouldn t do it without big money in 
 sight. An then, this man Riley ain t noways brilliant. 
 He s crooked, that s all. Heah comes Tawm now. 
 He s aftah the papers, prawb ly/ 
 
 Tom s footstep was heard on the veranda, and as 
 she was speaking he burst into the room. 
 
 " Gimme the papers," said he, as soon as he entered. 
 "I ve made the deal that is, I reckon I have. It ll 
 291 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 take some play, though, yet. These them? All 
 right." Tom put the documents carefully inside his 
 flannel shirt, and turned to go, but stopped as he 
 reached the door. " I don t know when Til be back," 
 he called. " It ll take a little time fer Riley ter chaw 
 it all over, an 7 a longer time yet fore he c n get the 
 money. He ll have ter get the money, though 5 this 
 here s a cash game, you bet. You wait here, Bob. 
 So long." 
 
 Tom ran from the room ; the last words were spoken 
 as he went down the path. Joyce went out on the 
 veranda, and Old Mrs. Elkins came and stood beside 
 him. Together they watched Tom until he disap 
 peared. Old Mrs. Elkins s face was troubled as she 
 turned to go into the house, and Joyce noticed it. 
 
 " Do you suppose Tom is in any danger ? " he asked, 
 in concern. "I d far and away rather not sell the 
 mine than to have him run any risk in trying to do 
 me a service. Besides, if there is danger, it s my 
 business to be there, not his." 
 
 "That s jus like my boy," commented Old Mrs. 
 Elkins. " Of cohse yoh wantah be in whatevah comes. 
 But yoh mus n . Theah d be a lot moah dangah if yoh 
 was theah than if yoh was heah. Now don t yoh talk DO 
 moah about it, but sit right down heah an let Tawm 
 run things. Theah ain t nothin tah do but wait." 
 
 At first Joyce hesitated, and was almost inclined 
 to rebel against this waiting policy to which the old 
 woman had committed him. Still, as she and her 
 nephew were acting solely in his- interest, it certainly 
 was their due to have their own way in the affair. 
 
 292 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 Joyce decided to wait with what patience he could 
 command. 
 
 The afternoon wore slowly away. Joyce paced the 
 little veranda restlessty, keeping at the same time a 
 sharp lookout over the town. Once he thought he 
 saw Tom, accompanied by a group of excited men, 
 passing down one of the streets ; but only a glimpse 
 was to be had, and the distance was too great to make 
 sure. As the sun slowly descended toward the dry 
 mountains that bounded the plain, the anxiety of 
 the young Easterner grew. From time to time Old 
 Mrs. Elkins would come out on the veranda, and, 
 shading her eyes with her hand, would glance rapidly 
 over the visible portion of the town. These visits 
 became more frequent as one hour after another 
 passed by. 
 
 At last the sun went down, and without any twilight 
 interval, the blue evening came. Old Mrs. Elkins 
 announced that supper was ready, and Joyce went 
 into the house and seated himself at the table ; but 
 he ate nothing, and made an excuse to return to his 
 post on the veranda. 
 
 It was quite dark. The stars were shining bril 
 liantly ; so were the lights of the distant saloons ; and 
 in one place, where the blacksmith had been setting a 
 tire, there glowed a circle of deep-red coals. Half un 
 consciously Joyce had heard the rattle of the dishes as 
 Old Mrs.Elkins cleared the table ; then he became aware 
 that the rattling had stopped. He looked through the 
 window, and saw that the room was empty. 
 
 Joyce could stand the strain no longer. Stepping 
 
 293 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 lightly into the house, he picked up the shotgun, and, 
 opening the breech, saw that the cartridges were un 
 disturbed, then snapped the barrels shut and stole out 
 of the door and down the road toward the town. He 
 walked rapidly, his spirits rising at each step at the 
 thought of possible action and the familiar feel of the 
 weapon in his hand. 
 
 Across the piece of vacant ground where the tire 
 had been heated some one was coming, and was whis 
 tling as he came. As the dull-red light from the circle 
 of glowing coals fell upon this person, Joyce saw 
 that it was Tom. There was a stir in the deep shadow 
 of the blacksmith shop. A voice cried, " Hands up ! " 
 
 Instantly Tom leaped aside in order to get out of 
 the light, drawing his pistol as he did so. At the 
 same instant there came from the shadow a red spurt 
 of flame and a sharp report. Tom threw up his arms 
 and fell backward as though struck by a hammer. 
 
 Four men darted from the shadow. Throwing the 
 gun to his shoulder, Joyce fired at two of them, giv 
 ing a barrel to each. The range was long for a shot 
 gun, even though it was throwing buckshot. One of 
 the men fell, then struggled to rise. One of his com 
 rades helped him to his feet, and they both vanished 
 into the darkness. Shouting for help, Joyce darted 
 forward, running as he had never run before. The 
 two remaining men stood their ground, and as soon 
 as they could see him they both fired, and missed. 
 Joyce swung the empty gun around his head and 
 threw it, striking one of the men on the breast and 
 felling him. 
 
 294 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 As tlie other man levelled liis pistol for a second 
 shot, Joyce stooped, and, rushing forward, caught him 
 with a foot-ball tackle around the waist. He was 
 lifted from the ground, and with all the impetus of 
 the rush, and with all the strength of the big ten 
 derfoot s trained muscles, he was thrown backward 
 into the circle of coals. He shrieked frantically ; his 
 clothes were smouldering in a dozen places as he 
 rolled out of the fire and lay writhing on the ground 
 beside it. 
 
 Then three pistol-shots cracked in the darkness, 
 with scarcely an appreciable interval between them. 
 
 The man who had been hit by the gun, and who, 
 pistol in hand, had risen on one elbow, shivered, fell 
 back, and lay still. Old Mrs. Elkins hobbled into 
 the firelight. A cartridge-belt supporting an empty 
 holster was buckled around her waist. In her hand 
 she held a heavy pistol, with a faint wreath of smoke 
 still curling from its muzzle. 
 
 Boot Leg hummed like a hive. One shout answered 
 another, and there was the sound of many running 
 feet. Joyce was dazed. He was dimly conscious 
 that the ground seemed instantly to be covered with 
 men ; that he asked some one if Tom were dead, and 
 that he was roughly told not to be a fool, but to help 
 carry Tom home, which he did. On the way he heard 
 Old Mrs. Elkins ask him why he had not used the 
 derringer that was in his pocket, and he owned with 
 shame that he had utterly forgotten that it was 
 there. 
 
 Then he sat in the little kitchen waiting for news 
 
 295 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 of Tom. It was hours before Old Mrs. Elkins ap 
 peared. 
 
 "No, lie won t die he ll get along all right, I 
 reckon," she said joyfully, anticipating his question. 
 "Yoh done beautiful beautiful. Tawm an me is 
 mighty proud ah yoh yoh don min , do yoh?" she 
 added apologetically, timidly stretching out her hand. 
 Joyce shook it gratefully. "Heah s the money foh 
 that theah mine," said she, after a moment. " That s 
 what he was held up for. Count it." 
 
 Joyce took the buckskin bag that she held toward 
 him, emptied the gold pieces that were in it on the 
 table, and did as he was told. 
 
 " Why, this is half as much again as I paid for the 
 mine," said he, as he finished counting. 
 
 Old Mrs. Elkins nodded. 
 
 " That was Tawm s figgah what he was a-talkin 
 about," said she, proudly. 
 
 Joyce quickly separated the coins into three equal 
 piles. " That s your share and Tom s," said he, push 
 ing two of the piles toward her. 
 
 " Tawm an me ain t in the mine-floatin business," 
 answered Old Mrs. Elkins, indignantly. "Not one 
 cent ah that theah money do I touch, an no moah 
 does Tawm. He wouldn t anyhow, but if he would I d 
 not own him. D yoh think Tawm s blood s foh sale ? " 
 
 Joyce was troubled, and stood uneasily fingering 
 the piles of gold. After the last part of Old Mrs. 
 Elkins s speech, he hardly knew how to return to the 
 subject. She had counted on that fact. "But I 
 must do something," he said, at last, despairingly. 
 
 296 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 Old Mrs. Elkins stepped eagerly forward. " Theah 
 is one thing yoh c n do/ she cried. " It s a favah foh 
 me f oh me an Tawm. Will yoh do it ? " 
 
 " Of course I will you know I will. What is it ? " 
 
 " D yoh promise on yoh wuhd?" 
 
 " Surely. Very gladly." 
 
 "Well, I want yoh tah leave this heah town. It 
 ain t no place foh yoh. Yoh can t do nothin heah, 
 an likely theah ll be trouble foh yoh if yoh do 
 trouble foh yoh, that is, an maybe foh us, if yoh was 
 heah. Theah s a train what leaves at sun-up, an 
 houah f om now, an I want yoh tah take it." 
 
 "But I can t go like this," Joyce remonstrated. 
 " There are a hundred things to prevent. I haven t 
 got my things packed, even. Then, I want to hear 
 what the doctor says, when he comes ; and I ought to 
 be here to testify against those men when they re 
 brought to trial. I must stay for a few days, anyhow. 
 Really, I can t leave you in this way." 
 
 " Yoh ll go on that train," replied Old Mrs. Elkins. 
 "Yoh promised. Youah things is all right; I 
 packed em myself, an Tawm he had em taken down 
 tah the cah-shed, all ready. Tawm wiahed foh a 
 doctah, too, foh me, one ah the boys said. He ll 
 come on the same train as yoh go by, so theah ain t 
 no way tah see him. But I know jus as well as he 
 does about a huht like Tawm s. Theah won t be no 
 call foh any testifyin . The boys is out aftah them 
 men now, an they can t help but get em. I reckon 
 we bettah staht I ll walk down with yoh." 
 
 Still remonstrating, Joyce was started for the train 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 before he fairly realized it. Old Mrs. Elkins had cal 
 culated the time well ; there was barely time for him 
 to buy his ticket and get on board, and none at all 
 for thoughts of final backsliding. He stood on the 
 rear platform as the train drew out, waving his hat in 
 farewell to Old Mrs. Elkins, who stood looking after 
 him as long as the tr.ain was in sight. Then, with a 
 deep sigh, she hurried home. The doctor was already 
 bending over Tom when she reached the house. She 
 passed quietly through his room and out by another 
 door. 
 
 " How s it comin , doc ? " asked Tom, faintly, look 
 ing up at the physician. 
 
 "All right. Don t talk," answered the other, 
 sharply. 
 
 " Plunked th ough the slats ? " inquired Tom, again. 
 
 " No. The ball glanced on one of the slats, as you 
 call them. Don t talk, I tell you. You ll be all 
 right." 
 
 " I got ter talk fer a minute j then I ll plug myself 
 up. Listen. I want you ter see her OP Mis Elkins 
 savvy? Ther s sun thin dead wrong with her." 
 
 " All right j now shut up," replied the doctor. 
 
 "No, but this is dead level. She ain t sick ter look 
 at," gasped Tom, laboriously, "but sunthin s got off 
 jus the same. She s cryin all the time, an she s off 
 her feed. She never did that way till now. She 
 wanted ter get that ther 7 tenderfoot roun the house 
 here, an she did, an every time, as soon s he went, she 
 cried. She didn t think I ketched on, but I did. Then 
 she s busted ter get him outer the place, here, 
 
 298 
 
The Salting of the Tio Juan 
 
 changed right roun , an she did get him ter go jus 
 now, an now he s gone she s eryin again. I see her 
 when she come through the room a minute back. 
 She s sure sick somehow. You ten ter that, will 
 yer?" 
 
 The doctor nodded, and Tom closed his eyes and 
 
 was content. 
 
 299 
 
A BROTHER TO ST. JAMES 
 
A BROTHER TO ST. JAMES 
 
 IT was a very small telegraph-station, just a tiny 
 pimple on the face of the great desert. The one 
 kerosene-lamp that lighted it burnt dimly and with 
 an evil smell, for the night was hot and the flame was 
 turned low. On every side, as far as the eye could 
 reach, stretched the sandy plain. There were no 
 signs of a town, no signs of man, except the station 
 itself, the two lines of glittering rails, and the heavily 
 shadowed prints of horses hoofs, shown by the faint 
 light that came from the station window. 
 
 The operator dozed, leaning back in his chair. 
 From time to time he would straighten in his seat 
 and wave a tattered palm-leaf fan, that scarcely stirred 
 the hot, dry air; then he would fix his eyes on the 
 white-painted, fly-covered ceiling, and sink once more 
 into a state of semiconsciousness. It was very lonely. 
 The ticking of a little nickel alarm-clock, as it pounded 
 its way through the slowly passing hours, was the 
 only sound that broke the oppressive stillness, save 
 once when the telegraph-instrument clicked with an 
 ever-recurring succession of sounds ; but the operator 
 
 33 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 knew that the wire was not calling him, and he did 
 not stir. 
 
 At length the distant rumble of a train sang a deep 
 bass that emphasized the silence. It came rapidly 
 nearer, and as it came the operator woke and sat up 
 to listen to the only break in the monotony of the 
 night. Then the rumble ended in a long, crashing 
 roar a roar that stopped and for a few seconds left 
 the desert doubly still by contrast. After a moment, 
 shrieks and oaths and popping shots rang distinctly 
 over the plain. Springing to his feet, the operator 
 started for the door, but stopped as though he had 
 come against a wall, for, standing in the doorway, a 
 masked figure held a pistol pointed at his head. 
 
 " Han s up," said this figure, quietly, in a voice that 
 was evidently assumed. 
 
 For an instant the operator hesitated, looking 
 quickly at his own pistol hanging in its holster on 
 the wall, and at the telegraph-key. A shot filled the 
 room with sudden noise and smoke ; the bullet, glanc 
 ing on the key, buried itself in the wall, and through 
 the singing in his ears the operator could hear the 
 voice, quiet as before, saying: " Han s up, I said. 
 Don t wait." 
 
 The operator reluctantly raised his hands above 
 his head. 
 
 "I kinder took temptation outer yer reach that 
 time," the voice went on. "You better not look 
 round again, though. Besides, the wires is bein cut 
 hear ? " 
 
 The operator listened. Outside the station he could 
 
 34 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 hear the creak of a saddle, the hard breathing of a 
 man, and the shaking of wires; then the impatient 
 tapping of cut ends as they struck the side of the 
 station at each oscillation. 
 
 "Turn yer face ter the wall an stan there," said 
 the voice again. " Don t fergit ter keep yer han s up." 
 
 The operator obeyed. Against the wall hung a little 
 mirror, with a flap of paper over its face to keep 
 away the swarming flies. Close to this mirror the 
 operator placed his face, and with his tongue he 
 worked the paper to one side, so that an edge of the 
 glass was exposed, and he could see reflected there 
 the figure that stood in the doorway. It was clothed 
 entirely in new blue overalls ; the head was covered 
 with a white hood that came low over the shoulders, 
 and had holes cut for the eyes, that glittered behind 
 them. The hands were gloved. There was nothing 
 in the disguise that could give a clew as to the iden 
 tity of its wearer. 
 
 Five minutes passed slowly by. By this time the 
 shots had ceased, and so had the yells; there was 
 only an indefinable murmur that told that the desert 
 was not as usual. At length the tread of two horses 
 fell almost noiselessly on the soft sand and stopped 
 near the door. There was another interval of wait 
 ing, and then two shots were fired, followed, after a 
 pause, by a third. 
 
 "Keep yer face where it is keep it thar ten 
 minutes," said the voice once more. 
 
 In the mirror the operator could see that the figure 
 backed slowly out of sight, suddenly reappeared, and 
 
 35 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 vanished again. Then a saddle creaked as some one 
 swung into it. The operator turned quickly, caught 
 up the lamp and threw it out of the window, and 
 snatching his pistol from the wall, darted from the 
 room. At first he could see nothing 5 then several 
 mounted figures were outlined for an instant against 
 the sky as they passed over a ridge. A moment 
 later two more figures appeared and vanished in the 
 same way. 
 
 Some distance down the track, bobbing specks of 
 light were passing to and fro around a dark mass that 
 terminated the glitter of the polished rails. Toward 
 this spot the operator started in a swinging trot that 
 carried him over the ground rapidly, yet suggested a 
 certain indolence of movement, as though, even in his 
 haste, the man was unable to shake off the effect of 
 long habit. As he approached the mass it took more 
 definite form, and the specks of light became lanterns 
 carried by men, who hurried here and there with ap 
 parent aimlessness. He could see the engine lying 
 helplessly on its side, a bed of glowing coals beside 
 it, and the wreaths of steam that issued from a hun 
 dred unintended vents in its shattered mechanism. 
 The tender was a mere heap of twisted plates, and the 
 mail-car had slipped into the car ahead of it, leaving 
 its trucks behind, as though it had taken off its over 
 shoes before entering. A knot of people surrounded 
 a doctor, who was bending over a man that lay very 
 still on the sand. The passengers, gathered around 
 the derailed train, discussed the affair excitedly, and 
 a group followed the conductor, cross-examining him, 
 306 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 as he walked here and there in a vain attempt to rid 
 himself of them. 
 
 " Hello, Danf orth ! " said the operator, going up to 
 the harassed official. " How did it happen f " 
 
 " Have you wired for a wrecking-train 1" asked the 
 conductor, ignoring the operator s question. "One 
 of the boys has just gone along to your station." 
 
 "He might just as well come back again, then," 
 answered the operator, composedly. "They ve cut 
 the wires. Many hurt 1 " 
 
 "Express-messenger, driver, and fireman, and a 
 few cut with glass. Those thieves went through the 
 express-car like a bullet through a punkin, then nipped 
 the registered mail, and cleared. Didn t bother the 
 passengers. Can t you mend those wires?" The 
 conductor s hand was shaking, and he evidently held 
 himself together with an effort. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I can patch them up somehow, I sup 
 pose," said the operator, nodding easily. "Just hold 
 the passengers where they are, will you? I don t 
 want them bothering around." 
 
 The operator started back to his station, passing 
 one of the passengers, who was pacing nervously up 
 and down beside the track. 
 
 The passenger was a tall man, thin and stooped, 
 dressed in clerical garb. A small cut on his forehead 
 had been bleeding a trifle, and though it had stopped, 
 the clergyman still mopped it with his handkerchief. 
 He was greatly agitated. Now and then he would 
 interrupt the work of the handkerchief long enough 
 to clasp his hands together as though he were in pain. 
 
 37 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 The operator was passing him by with a casual glance, 
 then stopped, and stood facing him. 
 
 "Look here, James," said he, in his lazy voice, 
 tl do you know that you re not presenting a particu 
 larly imposing figure just now ? n 
 
 The clergyman started. " Henry ! " he cried. 
 " Henry ! Here ? But it is like you, Henry," he went 
 on, in a voice of mingled fright and reproof. "It is 
 as you always were. I am all unstrung. I have but 
 newly passed through a terrible peril, and you, my 
 brother, meet me meet me after three years with 
 derision." 
 
 "Yes, I know it s three years. I didn t mean to 
 deride you, though. I m the telegraph-operator in 
 the station up here. I m going back there now, and 
 you d better come with me, I think." 
 
 The clergyman turned, and the two men walked 
 along together. "It is very strange that I should 
 find you here, and under such terrible circumstances. 
 Terrible circumstances! At one moment we were 
 rolling smoothly along toward our various destina 
 tions. In the next" He threw out his hands and 
 shuddered. 
 
 In spite of the nervous state in which he found 
 himself, the clergyman described the scene through 
 which he had just passed as he would have described 
 it from a pulpit. The operator noticed this, and 
 smiled with a weary sort of amusement, but he said 
 nothing. 
 
 " The crash and the shrieks and the reports of fire 
 arms j the jarring stop and the jangle of broken glass. 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 I was terribly unnerved, yet there was nothing that I 
 could do. Those who might have required rny aid 
 were beyond it. Had there been occasion for my 
 services, I hope that I could sufficiently have con 
 trolled myself to perform my duty. I hope I should. 
 I think I should." 
 
 " Yes, I think you would," agreed the clergyman s 
 brother, thoughtfully, as though he were weighing 
 the matter. " Yes ; from what I know of you, I m 
 pretty sure of it. That you, Billy ? " 
 
 " Yes, what s left of me s here," answered a badly 
 shaken brakeman, who was stumbling from the tele 
 graph-station back to the wrecked train. " I reckon 
 it s me, anyhow. I just come from your place." 
 
 " I know. The wires are cut. Can you ride I " 
 
 " I guess so. What for ? " 
 
 "My horse is in the pen, there, and I ll help you 
 saddle up. You d better go over to Oroville and warn 
 the sheriff Barton. You ll find him in the Golden 
 Eagle saloon, probably." 
 
 As he spoke, the operator stepped into the station 
 and dragged forth a saddle. The clergyman could 
 hear him as he caught the horse, and again as he 
 called his last instructions to the departing brake 
 man : " It s only seven miles, and you can t miss the 
 trail. You just tell Barton what has happened, and 
 he ll know what to do." 
 
 The brakeman galloped away without replying, and 
 the muffled hoof -beats had grown faint in the distance 
 when the operator returned. 
 
 " I ll have to get those wires in shape now," said he, 
 
 39 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 lounging in. "You can hold a lantern for me, can t 
 you?" 
 
 As his brother was rummaging in a box after his 
 pliers, the clergyman took up the lantern and looked 
 at it helplessly. He could see no way in which it 
 could be lighted. The operator took it from him, 
 raised the globe, kindled the wick, and handed the 
 lantern back. 
 
 " It is three years since last I saw you, Henry," said 
 the clergyman, following his brother outside the little 
 building, where hung the loose ends of the cut wires. 
 " Three years. What have you done and where 
 have you been since" He hesitated in order to 
 shift the lantern from one hand to the other, and the 
 operator misinterpreted the pause. 
 
 " Since I left home and disgraced the family?" he 
 replied. "Well, pretty much everything, I think, 
 except steal. I haven t done that yet." 
 
 " We heard that you had killed a man," the clergy 
 man said, pausing, and then lowering his voice as he 
 uttered the last words. " Perhaps, though, it was not 
 true," he went on hopefully. " What we heard was 
 merely a rumor." 
 
 " True ? Oh, yes, it probably was. I don t know 
 what you heard, of course. It has always been in 
 self-defence, or defence of somebody else, though, if 
 that means anything to you. Hold the light a little 
 higher, if you can." 
 
 It took the clergyman a moment to fully realize 
 the meaning of his brother s speech ; then he shrunk 
 back a step. For some time neither of them spoke, 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 and the stillness was broken only by the murmur of 
 voices from the wrecked train, and the rattling of the 
 wires as the operator mended them. 
 
 "How is when how did you leave your wife?" 
 asked the operator at last, trying to speak indifferently, 
 and failing. 
 
 The clergyman shifted the lantern a little, and swal 
 lowed two or three times. 
 
 " I lost her fourteen months ago," he said coldly. 
 
 The operator industriously twisted the end of one 
 wire around another, and then said slowly : " Well, it 
 was settled in the best way, I think. She was wise in 
 preferring you." 
 
 The lantern trembled in the clergyman s hands. 
 He struggled visibly with himself for a moment, and 
 then spoke : " She did not prefer me. But I did not 
 know it then. It was considered more judicious by 
 her mother and she yielded. I tried to do my duty. 
 I only found it out by accident, but she did not 
 prefer me." 
 
 He wiped his forehead as he finished speaking, and 
 sighed as though an unpleasant duty had been accom 
 plished. The operator glanced quickly at his brother, 
 and then went on with his work. 
 
 " She was right they were both of them right, I 
 suppose," he said deliberately. He made a final ad 
 justment of the wires, and the receiver in the office 
 began to click furiously. "That s finished," the 
 operator went on, in a different tone. " I ll connect 
 up inside now. There ll be a wrecking-crew and 
 another train bouncing down on us before long now, 
 
 3 11 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 and then you can go on to where did you say you 
 were bound for ? " 
 
 "Oroville. After some time ago my health gave 
 out, and I accepted this call on account of the 
 climate. 7 
 
 The operator looked up from his work with a smile 
 of mild amusement. " Is that so ? I never thought 
 to ask the new clergyman s name. So you re coming 
 to top off the latest public improvement." 
 
 "I trust so." 
 
 " Oh, you will. They ve had electric lights for ever 
 so long, months, and some brick buildings, and 
 they ve pulled most of the rnesquit stumps out of the 
 principal streets. After that, all the Orovillians 
 wanted, in order to beat Boot Leg, down the line 
 here, was either a water-supply system or a church 
 and parson of their own. They decided on the 
 church and parson. It s cheaper, and they knew 
 that Boot Leg would never have thought of it. So 
 you re here." 
 
 "I hardly understand you, Henry. Certainly a 
 church is in the line of a public improvement. Where 
 could one find a better 1 The people seem to rejoice 
 sincerely that the church is to be opened, judging 
 from what they wrote me, and from what one of my 
 parishioners said as we talked on the train." 
 
 " One of your parishioners ? Who ? " 
 
 "His name is Brown Andrew D. Brown. He 
 met me at El Paso, and we travelled together until 
 we reached the last station, when he was obliged to 
 leave on business. He told me much concerning the 
 
 312 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 town and the people, and the need for church-work. 
 He seemed very earnest." 
 
 " Andy Brown, eh ? " said the operator, apparently 
 speaking more to himself than to his brother. " Seemed 
 very earnest. So he was, no doubt." 
 
 "What do you mean, Henry?" asked the clergy 
 man, uneasily. " I know that it is not what you say. 
 To me Mr. Brown did appear earnest. Indeed, I 
 might say godly." He hesitated on the last word, 
 as though afraid of derision. 
 
 " Godly, to be sure," cried Henry. " He s a land- 
 shark a real-estate speculator, you know, or rather 
 you don t know what that is in a Western town. I m 
 afraid his godliness isn t just your kind, James. It s 
 the variety that spoils if it s kept too long. Still, I 
 don t want you to accept my verdict as final. Look 
 for yourself and see." 
 
 The clergyman did not answer. He set his lips in 
 a straight line, put the tips of his fingers together, 
 and frowned thoughtfully. Evidently he meditated 
 a rebuke, but the words did not seem to come. The 
 operator finished connecting his instrument, and be 
 gan laboriously to tap a message across the wire. 
 
 "Where did you learn this er craft, Henry?" 
 asked the clergyman, after a while. 
 
 "Never did learn it. Picked up a little here and 
 there, and when I got on my uppers I took this job. 
 If I d learned it I d have got a better one. But this 
 is my last night." 
 
 " Your last night ? " queried the clergyman. 
 
 The operator nodded. "I was held up when the 
 
 3 J 3 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 train was, and had my wires cut, you know. The 
 company 11 object to that it s a way they have. 
 They d discharge me, probably, if I didn t wire my 
 resignation as soon as I ve finished this. Don t talk 
 to me it puts me out." 
 
 Leaning back in his chair, his head resting against 
 the wall, the clergyman listened to the insistent rattle 
 of the telegraph until, thoroughly tired, he fell asleep. 
 The sun was rising when a gentle shake aroused him. 
 
 " Wake up, James," cried his brother s voice. " The 
 posse is coming. We ll get you over to town now." 
 
 James stumbled to his feet, and, winking hard, 
 looked about him. Along the ridge over which the 
 robbers had disappeared the night before a large 
 party of men, armed and well mounted, were gallop 
 ing. With them the brakeman who had gone to 
 warn the sheriff rode uneasily. As they approached 
 the track the operator s horse, ridden by the brake 
 man, swerved, to the great discomfort of his rider, 
 and galloped toward the station. The brakeman 
 pulled up, dismounted, and turned loose the horse, 
 which thereupon cantered up to his master. The 
 posse swept on toward the train, and as it came, the 
 dispirited passengers raised a faint cheer. One of 
 the men left the others and came galloping down the 
 track toward the station. 
 
 " That s the fellow who relieves me," said the 
 operator to his brother. "HI go on down to the 
 train now, and see about getting you over to the town. 
 You come along, too. I ll meet you there." He swung 
 into the saddle and started away. " It s all right," he 
 
 3H 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 shouted to tlie coming operator. "I ve mended the 
 wires, and the wrecking- train s on its way. I ve told 
 all the details, and there s nothing coming in now but 
 fool questions. You can see to those. So long ! n 
 
 It was broad daylight, and as the clergyman ap 
 proached the train the results of the accident, and 
 the tie partly buried between the rails that had caused 
 it, stood plainly revealed. The engine bore a curious 
 resemblance to a maimed and dead animal as it lay 
 on its side by the track. One of the posse pointed it 
 out to a companion and said, " Dead horse, eh?" and 
 the clergyman fully understood what he meant. 
 
 " Get into that wagon you see coming over the hill 
 there," called the operator, riding up. " It s come to 
 take what s left of the mail, but I ve seen the sheriff, 
 and he says it s all right for you to go, too. The stage 
 went over to the regular station, beyond the junction, 
 where you d have gone if the train hadn t smashed. 
 Give me your checks." 
 
 The clergyman did as he was told. To his timid at 
 tempt at explanation the driver of the wagon replied 
 by bashfully making room for him on the seat. The 
 clergyman climbed awkwardly in, seating himself as 
 far as possible from the heavy pistol worn by his 
 companion, and which dragged over the stuffed sack 
 that served as a cushion with every motion of its 
 wearer. Looking back toward the train, he could see 
 that the posse had gathered about its leader, the 
 sheriff, who was evidently giving instructions. An 
 other moment and it had divided, half going in 
 one direction and half in another, while the sheriff 
 
 3 5 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 and the clergyman s brother cantered up to the 
 wagon. 
 
 "This gentleman sitting by you is one of your 
 parishioners, James/ said the operator, when he had 
 come within speaking distance, "Mr. Hop Flanders 
 by name." The clergyman turned with clerical cor 
 diality to the driver, who spat apologetically over the 
 side of the wagon, and, shifting the reins of his four- 
 horse team, extended an enormous brown hand. In 
 this hand the clergyman deposited his. Hop gripped 
 it with all his power, turned it loose after giving it 
 one shake, and returned to his former position as the 
 operator finished the introduction : " My brother, the 
 Reverend James Braisted." 
 
 " This, James," the operator went on, " is Mr. Bar 
 ton, the sheriff of our county. Barton, this is our 
 new clergyman, my brother, Mr. Braisted." 
 
 The sheriff was forcing his unwilling horse closer 
 to the wagon, when the clergyman turned and half 
 rose in his seat. 
 
 " I don t know that it would be fair for me to take 
 your hand, Mr. Barton," said he. " On the whole, I 
 think it would not. I am sure it would not. It 
 would not be right to disguise from you the fact that 
 I do not consider you as one with whom I can have 
 anything in common. As an officer of the law it 
 seems to me that you are doubly culpable it is not 
 too strong a wordculpable. Culpable is not only 
 permitting, but assisting, tacitly or otherwise, in 
 practices which the law forbids, and which disgrace 
 our Western civilization disgrace it. It is said that 
 
 316 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 you own one of the places where liquor is sold and 
 where gambling is permitted. At least, you are a 
 patron of such places, and you are also an officer of 
 the law. To speak in this way is extremely distaste 
 ful to me extremely. But I can see no alternative." 
 The clergyman resumed his seat, his hand trembling 
 as he wiped his forehead. 
 
 "If you re quite through, James, I think we ll 
 move on, Mr. Barton and I. Your baggage will be 
 brought from the train directly, and then you can 
 follow us," said the operator. 
 
 Barton had turned deeply red under his tan, but 
 his voice was quiet and low as he said to the oper 
 ator: "I m goin kindah roundabout tuh see f I 
 cyan t fin some track ah them theah thieves down by 
 the othah road. It ll be some out ah youah way." 
 
 " That don t matter," replied the other. 
 
 The sheriff turned his horse, and the two men 
 jogged on together. 
 
 " Look here, Barton," said the operator, as soon as 
 they were out of ear-shot of the wagon. "I know 
 how that speech that his Reverence got off must have 
 struck you, and I want to tell you that you mustn t 
 think too much of what he said." 
 
 " Think much of it ! I hadn nevah done nothin 
 tuh him. An theah ain t nothin I can do yoh cyan t 
 shoot a pahson. What d he say it f oh ? What d he 
 mean ? " 
 
 " That s what I m going to make you understand, if 
 you ll only listen a bit. In the first place, you know, 
 he s never been much among men that is, men as 
 
 3*7 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 you and I know them. He was educated at a semi 
 nary, as they call it, a place where parsons are made 
 and unless one knows men to start with, there isn t 
 much to be learned about them there. That s the 
 reason he doesn t understand things as they are here. 
 Keeping a saloon and robbing a bank would be pretty 
 much the same in his eyes." 
 
 " But I don run no saloon," objected Barton. 
 
 "I know you don t he didn t say you did; but 
 Andy Brown met my brother on the train, and they 
 had a long talk. Brown probably told him that you 
 had an interest in a saloon, among other things. It 
 has been said that you helped start the Golden Eagle, 
 you know, whether it s true or not. Brown s a 
 plausible sort of chap, and he s got it in for you, so 
 he must have tried to queer you with the dominie 
 and any one can fool him. Now do understand this 
 thing. Give the parson a chance to look around him 
 and learn something about us all before you make up 
 your mind what you think of him." 
 
 " But he oughtah not take one man s wohd gains 
 anothah, an then not give the othah man a show," 
 said Barton. 
 
 "Of course he oughtn t, but that s just what I m 
 trying to explain. He ll be the first to come and tell 
 you he s wrong as soon as he finds it out. He s good 
 people one of the best that ever lived. Why, when 
 we were at school together he s two years older than 
 I the other boys used to call him St. James. His 
 name is James, you know. He was always worrying 
 himself sick for fear he d done something wrong. It 
 
 318 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 would never occur to him that Brown was a sneaking 
 liar. Just you lay low for a bit, and see if he don t 
 bear out what I say." 
 
 " Well, I was kindah mad fihst off, but I reckon you 
 ah right," said the sheriff, somewhat mollified. " Theah 
 wouldn no decent man say what he said, less he 
 thought he was right. An then, he had tuh study tuh 
 be a pahson, so s he ain t had no time tuh fin out 
 bout othah things. I ll put the boys on, so s they won 
 get riled at nothin he might say. But it s hahd luck 
 f oh a man tuh have tuh study like that, ain t it ? " 
 
 " Yes ; from our standpoint I suppose it is," agreed 
 the operator. " I m glad you see it as I do, Barton. 
 It may save his Reverence a lot of trouble he d other 
 wise have had before he found his feet." 
 
 For some time the sheriff made no reply, but 
 seemed to be thinking deeply. "I s pose I d bettah 
 shoot Brown, then," he said at last. "He s the one 
 what made the pahson th ow me down. He oughtah 
 be shot foh makin a pahson act like that. S pose we 
 push a little. I oughtah be gettin on." 
 
 " I wouldn t shoot him just yet," said the operator, 
 calling upon his horse. "It might be a good plan, 
 but it would queer you with my brother, and I want 
 him to like you. Can t you wait a while ? " 
 
 Again the sheriff deliberated for a long time, and 
 then said : " Well, maybe that s so. I ll go long them 
 lines foh now, anyhow. I won shoot him yet." 
 
 The operator smiled and nodded, and the two men 
 rode along in silence, their eyes bent on the ground in 
 the vain hope of finding some traces of the thieves. 
 
 3 9 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 " Less them thieves got rounded up by the boys, 
 they mustah struck right intah the town, like I 
 reckoned they would all along. I ll split the men up 
 intah little gangs an have em covah the country, 
 while I an a couple moah go th ough the burgh 
 itself. Fraid it ll be bettah wuhk foh a detective 
 than foh a sheriff an posse, though. The boys 
 oughtah be back mos as soon as us. Le s push foh 
 home." 
 
 The " boys " were back before the sheriff was. The 
 dusty little saloon-lined plaza at the intersection of 
 Oroville s two principal thoroughfares was filled with 
 them as he rode up the street. The posse had in 
 creased in size, and was still growing, for most of 
 Oroville s male inhabitants were volunteering as fast 
 as they could saddle their horses. 
 
 A few minutes later the wagon drove slowly through 
 the crowd and stopped in front of the post-office. 
 Hop Flanders tossed the mail-pouches to the waiting 
 postmaster, while the clergyman stood up in his seat 
 and gazed at the scene about him. By this time the 
 whole town, apparently, was in the plaza, and most 
 of it was mounted and ready for immediate departure. 
 Worming his way in and out among the crowd, the 
 sheriff galloped from place to place, dividing the vol 
 unteers into parties, and appointing a leader for each. 
 The men fell into the places assigned them as though 
 they were members of a team that had often played 
 together, and that gloried in its play. Every one 
 was laughing; rough jokes were shouted from one 
 party to another. Infected by the spirits of the men, 
 
 320 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 James Braisted looked upon this gathering of his 
 people with an interest rarely shown by him in matters 
 not directly relating to his spiritual work, and with 
 an absence of consciousness that, in his self -repressed, 
 introspective life, was rarer still. 
 
 The men were soon arranged, and for a moment 
 the shouts were stilled, only to break out in a laugh 
 ing cheer as one of the parties, headed by the oper 
 ator, swept by at a gallop, its leader saluting the 
 wagon in which the clergyman was enthroned as he 
 passed it. One after another, in rapid succession, the 
 other parties followed the first, and the plaza, though 
 still thronged at the edges with chattering crowds, 
 seemed silent and empty. 
 
 A short, thick man with a puffy face emerged from 
 a doorway, and after eying the clergyman for a mo 
 ment, climbed into the rear of the wagon, stepped 
 forward, and touched him on the arm. " I reckon 
 I presume, that is that this is the Reverend Braisted, 
 ain t it?" said he. "Yes? That s good. Phelps is 
 my name. I m a pardner of Andrew D. Brown s, 
 what you maybe met on the train coniin up. I s pose 
 you d like ter go right along t yer house? The 
 church is jus nex door." 
 
 Eager to begin his work, and to learn about it and 
 everything concerning it, the clergyman assented 
 readily, and the wagon moved off. Phelps did not 
 fail to point out, as they drove along, the evidences 
 of municipal enterprise : the frame buildings that had 
 nearly superseded the canvas-covered shacks which 
 marked the earliest stage of the town s development, 
 
 321 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 and a few structures of new, garish brick, of a period 
 still later than the frame. Then the wagon pulled up 
 at the church. The clergyman hastened to inspect it 
 and the snug parsonage close by, straightway forget 
 ting everything else in his enthusiasm j for the church 
 was handsome, and its interior fittings had been 
 selected with a taste and an accurate knowledge of 
 what was required that in such a town seemed remark 
 able. Phelps followed the parson from place to place, 
 beaming at each expression of approval with an air 
 of modest deprecation that seemed to imply that the 
 new church of Oroville owed everything that was 
 good to the instrumentality of Phelps. 
 
 For the rest of the day, and for the next few days, 
 the clergyman was busy with work he enjoyed as he 
 enjoyed nothing else. He had little time to think of 
 his brother, though now and then he would inquire 
 of some of his many visitors as to Henry s probable 
 whereabouts, the time of his return, and the amount 
 of danger that his mission would be likely to bring 
 upon him. The answers to such questions were in 
 variably reassuring, so that there was hardly room 
 for apprehension. 
 
 It was toward evening on the fourth day after the 
 robbery, and James was sitting on the veranda of his 
 parsonage, when his brother came lounging up the 
 road. The excitement of the preceding days had 
 passed, and the reaction had followed it, leaving the 
 clergyman nervous and tired. With an expression of 
 strong disapproval he noted the careless, swinging 
 gait of the younger man. This walk always had 
 
 3 22 
 
, A Brother to St. James 
 
 irritated him ; it showed so utter a lack of seriousness. 
 The operator saw this look on his brother s face, and 
 smiled as he held out his hand. 
 
 "Well, James, how are things coming on?" he 
 asked. "You seem to be rather comfortable here. 
 How do you like the church ? " 
 
 " Exceedingly. It could not be better. The church 
 and all its appointments are excellent. I was sur 
 prised that the people here knew so well what was 
 required, or rather that one of them did, for they tell 
 me that it was but one who chose the fittings." 
 
 " It was I," answered Henry. " But it shouldn t be 
 so remarkable, I think, when one considers the way I 
 was brought up." 
 
 " You ! " exclaimed his brother, passing his hand 
 over his forehead. "Surely you are joking, Henry. 
 They told me it was a man named Jones." 
 
 " Fm Jones," replied Henry. " The name is simple 
 and unpretentious, and I adopted it. You see, I 
 didn t want to disgrace the family more than was 
 necessary." 
 
 " I don t understand you ; but you can hardly mean 
 what you say," the minister said anxiously. " Those 
 who know that we are brothers have expressed no 
 surprise that our names are not alike." 
 
 " No ; they wouldn t. They see that Fve changed 
 my name, or think that you ve changed yours, that s 
 all. They don t mind that here. Lots of them do it. 
 It s rather the correct thing to do." 
 
 The clergyman looked shocked. "I wish you 
 would not treat these things so lightly, Henry," said 
 
 3 2 3 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 he. " To me this is serious. Why should these peo 
 ple go under assumed names?" 
 
 "Oh, because they re wanted somewhere or other 
 by the police, or by the families they ve deserted, or 
 a hundred reasons besides. Nobody knows, and it 
 isn t considered good form to inquire." 
 
 "Have you "here James paused apprehensively. 
 " Have you any such reason, Henry ? " he finished. 
 
 " I ve broken no law ; and you know that the other 
 reason I gave hardly applies to me," answered Henry, 
 somewhat bitterly. 
 
 The clergyman rose and walked up and down the 
 veranda, then came to a stop in front of his brother. 
 "In what part of the town do you lodge, Henry?" 
 he asked. " I think you had better come here now. 
 There s plenty of room." 
 
 " Now that s awfully good of you, James," said the 
 younger man, gratefully. " But I won t take advan 
 tage of your kindness, I think. It s better not. I m 
 afraid that I wouldn t make a very ornamental ap 
 pendage to a church." 
 
 "I am sorry you feel so, Henry," said the clergy 
 man, stiffening. " It is not a good sign. I am sorry 
 that you no longer feel at home in an atmosphere 
 of-" 
 
 " Piety ? " suggested Henry. 
 
 " Piety, if you choose. Yes j piety. As I said before, 
 it is not a good sign. Where is it that you lodge ? " 
 
 The manner of the elder brother was distinctly pas 
 toral. Henry glanced up resentfully, then shrugged 
 his shoulders and smiled. 
 
 324 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 " Where ? Over a saloon ; over the Golden Eagle 
 the one you insulted the sheriff about, the other day/ 
 said he. "I m very comfortable there," he added, 
 after a pause. 
 
 Drawing from his pocket some tobacco and a bun 
 dle of papers, Henry began to roll a cigarette. His 
 brother watched him absently. 
 
 " Perhaps I was wrong in the way I just spoke. I 
 provoked you. I am sorry," said James, at last. 
 "You mentioned what I said to the sheriff. In 
 that case I did only what I thought to be my duty. 
 I could not have met him as though we were to be 
 friends. It would not have been honest. Can t you 
 see ? " 
 
 " Certainly. I quite understand. But you re mak 
 ing an awful mistake, James. You ve got to know 
 these people if you re going to deal with them. Things 
 are looked at so differently here from what they are 
 at home that one can t apply the same standards. The 
 sheriff is one of our best citizens. There s hardly a 
 day that he don t risk his life to enforce those laws 
 you accuse him of breaking. He s worth a thousand 
 of that gang you seem to have got in with Brown 
 and his lot. They re about the worst we breed, and 
 that s saying a good deal." 
 
 James straightened up indignantly. " I should be 
 sorry to doubt your motive for speaking of these men 
 as you do, Henry," said he. "Yet I cannot see by 
 what right you vilify them simply because you dislike 
 them. They have all of them talked with me long 
 and earnestly about the church- work j and though 
 
 3 2 5 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 they have warned me against this man you are de 
 fending, they did so, I am sure, from none but the 
 best motives. It is to Mr. Brown, Mr. Phelps, and 
 others of their kind that I have to look for help with 
 the church. Why, they were the ones who built it, 
 chiefly, and who brought me here." 
 
 " They did nothing of the kind. Look here, James. 
 When they first decided to build a church here in 
 Oroville, there was some dispute as to what sort of a 
 church it should be. They could only build one and 
 do it properly, and as the men who contributed 
 toward it were of nearly all denominations, there 
 was some trouble in settling this detail. Finally, 
 rather than have no church at all, they decided to 
 have one representative of each sect come into a 
 game of hundred-dollar freeze-out, the winner to 
 seat his creed, and the rest to stand by the decision. 
 Your man won. It was a four full on sixes held 
 against an ace-high flush that had more to do with 
 bringing you here than anything else." 
 
 " And you permitted this ? " 
 
 "Yes, I permitted it not that my permission was 
 asked. But there was no irreverence in what they 
 did, looked at from their standpoint. These men 
 the greater part of them have a childlike faith in 
 religion. But they take their religion as they do 
 their whiskey that is, though each man may prefer 
 some one brand, yet all kinds are good. You d better 
 think about this, James, really you had, for it s 
 true, even though it does come from a hardened sinner 
 like me." 
 
 326 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 The clergyman looked troubled. " My principles I 
 cannot change, Henry ; they are fixed," he said j < and 
 it is an awful thing to gamble in order to decide so 
 vital a matter awful ! Still, I will think of what 
 you have said. I have no wish to be narrow. But 
 concerning these men whom you so dislike you must 
 be wrong. They have already called and offered every 
 encouragement to the church-work. They have con 
 tributed handsomely and voluntarily to help in 
 starting us. Just see." He drew from his pocket 
 several gold coins and a slip of white paper, exhibit 
 ing them proudly. 
 
 "Rather a small pile, isn t it?" asked Henry, 
 scratching a match on the door-step and carefully 
 lighting his cigarette. 
 
 "The gold? Perhaps. There was more gold, 
 much more, but I used it in changing this check. Mr. 
 Plielps gave fifty dollars out of this check, and I had 
 received contributions enough from others to change 
 it and leave what you see." 
 
 The clergyman was about to replace the money 
 when his brother stopped him. 
 
 " Hold on, James, for a minute. Let me see that 
 check, won t you ? " he asked. 
 
 "You ll hardly venture to doubt its genuineness, 
 even though Mr. Plielps did give it," said the clergy 
 man, smiling, as he handed the check to his brother. 
 
 Henry was absorbed in studying the slip of paper, 
 and made no reply. There was a sound of a horse s 
 hoofs in the road. They slowed in front of the par 
 sonage, then sprang into a gallop and passed on. 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 "That was Mr. Phelps who just went by," said 
 James, reproachfully. "You must have let him see 
 that you dislike him, Henry. He was about to stop, 
 but when he saw that you were here he went on 
 toward the town." 
 
 "Very likely. James, unless I m much mistaken, 
 this contribution of Phelps s will hang him." 
 
 "Hang him! What do you mean, Henry? Are 
 you joking? 7 cried the clergyman, in dismay. But 
 he knew that there was no joke intended. On Henry s 
 face there was a look of earnestness that was seldom 
 seen there. " What do you mean, Henry ? " he asked 
 again, as his brother did not at once answer. 
 
 "I ll have to take this to the sheriff, and get a 
 warrant out at once, James," said the operator. 
 "There s no time to lose. This check is one that 
 was stolen from the mail-car on the night of the rob 
 bery." 
 
 The clergyman sat down on the nearest chair. 
 "Surely, Henry, you must be mistaken," said he. 
 "But what did you mean what did you mean 
 when you spoke of hanging ? There was no murder ? " 
 
 " Train-robbery s a capital offence in this Territory. 
 But Phelps won t come to that. They ll hang him 
 quite informally, probably, as soon as he s caught." 
 
 " But he cannot be guilty. If he were he would 
 not give the proof into my hands." 
 
 "When did he give you this?" 
 
 " To-dayjust before you came." 
 
 " Then it s all simple enough. These men haven t 
 much money just now, and it s vitally necessary for 
 
 328 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 them to get out of town and away as soon as possible. 
 What they took from the train was all in green 
 backs, and if they attempted to pass those around 
 here, where every one uses gold, it would have aroused 
 any amount of suspicion. They knew it would take 
 a day or two before this could reach the bank, and so 
 they passed the check on you, that s all. Of course it 
 was a chance, but they had to take chances. I ll go 
 and see the sheriff, and then come back here." Henry 
 was about to put the check in his pocket, when his 
 brother took it from his hand. 
 
 "You see, it s made out to some man in Yuma," 
 explained Henry, patiently, "and endorsed to bearer. 
 The endorsement is forged, of course. After they 
 hang Phelps, they can send him up for that, if they 
 like. Give me the check ; I must go." 
 
 For a moment the clergyman stood irresolute ; then 
 he put the check in his pocket. " I must not let you 
 have this now, Henry," he said decidedly. " The man 
 who gave me this may be innocent I think he is in 
 nocent. I cannot allow him to rest under this terrible 
 charge, and still more terrible danger, when his only 
 fault may be that he tried to help the best of all good 
 works. I cannot permit that. I must see him. He 
 must have a chance of clearing himself." 
 
 " Don t be foolish, James. It s for the law to decide 
 whether he s innocent or not. Let me have the check." 
 
 "I cannot. It is not the law that would decide, 
 but lawless men. You yourself have said so. He 
 must have an opportunity of clearing himself." 
 
 " James, look here. Phelps saw me looking at that 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 check, and he thoroughly realizes what that means, 
 you may be sure. He and his gang will take any 
 chances to get it back. They d think nothing of put 
 ting you out of the way in fact, they re very likely 
 to try. Your holding this check means a very great 
 danger to you. Very likely it means death to you. 
 Do you understand ? " 
 
 The clergyman turned pale. "I cannot help it, 
 Henry," said he. " I hope you are wrong, but whether 
 you are or not, I can see no other way for me. My 
 duty is clear, and the rest is out of my hands." He 
 turned and went into the house. Though he was 
 white and trembling, his brother could see, through 
 the open window, that he locked the money and 
 check in his desk. Then he came out on the veranda 
 again. 
 
 Henry rose to go. " Have it your own way if you 
 think you ought to, James," he said. " I think you d 
 better see your pious friends as soon as possible, 
 though. On second thoughts, I will accept your in 
 vitation for a while. I ll stop here to-night. You 
 needn t bother to get a bed ready. I ll be back 
 directly." 
 
 He walked quickly, yet with no appearance of haste, 
 down the road to the post where he had left his horse ; 
 and when he was mounted he rode as fast as the horse 
 could carry him toward the town. The sheriff was 
 lounging, as usual, in front of the Golden Eagle when 
 the operator galloped up to the door. 
 
 " Hello, Barton ! " he drawled. " Come here a 
 minute, will you ? " 
 
 33 
 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 The sheriff rose and reluctantly came forward, fan 
 ning himself with his hat. " What s wrong now, 
 Hank? "he asked. 
 
 " Why, I jtist came around to ask you to stand by 
 to-night. You see, Pve got what you might call a 
 clew to these thieves we ve been chasing, and I think 
 they know it, so there may be a row. I can t tell you 
 what it is just yet," Henry hastened to say, seeing 
 that the sheriff was about to speak. "I m rather 
 bound not to do that, but you ll know all about it in. 
 the morning, probably. What I want you to do is to 
 come if you hear a fight going on ; they may be too 
 many for me. If I m not in a condition to tell you 
 anything when you get there, just take the man I m 
 fighting with. You can t go wrong." 
 
 "Who ah these heah men? I ll see they don 
 bothah yoh." 
 
 "Well, I can hardly tell you that. I m bound in 
 honor not to. See ? " 
 
 Barton nodded. " Cyan t yoh take me long, Hank ? " 
 he asked. "Seems tuh me yoh ll likely stack up 
 gains a kind ah stiff lay-out. Maybe they ll do yoh. 
 Wish yoh could take me long." 
 
 "No, I can t do that, either. Most likely, if I 
 have any trouble with these men, I can stand 
 them off until you come, if you hurry. You ll be 
 ready?" 
 
 " I suah will," responded Barton, in a tone of real 
 concern. As the operator rode away, the sheriff stood 
 looking after him as long as he was in sight, then 
 shifted his gaze to a small nondescript dog that sat 
 
 33 1 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 near him hunting for fleas. He stared so long that 
 the dog grew uncomfortable, and rising, stared back 
 again. 
 
 " Theah s suah go n tah be trouble, an more n likely 
 big trouble," said the sheriff, emphatically. " Reckon 
 I bettah go n roun up some ah the boys, an keep 
 em handy. Sunthin s dead wrong. Hank he don 
 ask help foil nothin you heah me?" 
 
 The dog carefully tucked his tail between his legs 
 and trotted off, and the sheriff departed in search of 
 his men. 
 
 There was little display of force. One after another, 
 men renowned for the accuracy of their pistol practice 
 strolled into the Golden Eagle, and only a few habit 
 ues of the place noticed that they remained there 
 instead of wandering from one saloon to another, 
 according to their custom. 
 
 Evening fell, and the lights came out. The streets 
 of Oroville were crowded, for it was Saturday, the 
 eve of the weekly fiesta. As the night wore on, the 
 crowds grew hilarious. There were shouts, snatches 
 of song, and occasional shots as some man found his 
 natural capacity for making a noise insufficient for 
 his needs. Now and then the scraping of fiddles could 
 be heard, the twang of guitars, and the jangle of an 
 untuned piano. The sheriff walked down the road a 
 little and listened ; walked back to see that his men 
 were where he could easily call them out to the road. 
 Many times he repeated this manoeuvre, and at last 
 he heard the popping of pistol-shots. There was no 
 question but what they were fired in earnest. There 
 
 33 2 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 were many of them, and they came irregularly, like 
 the reports of a bunch of fire-crackers. Shots fired 
 in sport do not sound so. Then there was a faint 
 yell in the distance, and more shots. 
 
 With a shrill whistle, the sheriff ran to the rail 
 where the horses were tied, and his men, having a 
 shorter distance to go, were there as soon as he. The 
 crowd on the sidewalk stopped to see ; those who had 
 horses ran to get them, and others followed on foot 
 as the sheriff and his men started at full speed in the 
 direction from which the sounds came. 
 
 As they advanced there were fewer shots, but the 
 noises came more distinctly to their ears. They 
 rounded a turn in the road, and then could see that 
 in front of the parsonage several horses were stand 
 ing, held by a man w r ho was mounted on one of them. 
 There were other men near the veranda, who ran to 
 the horses as soon as the posse appeared, and, mount 
 ing quickty, dashed away in the darkness. The posse 
 leaned forward and spurred. Pistol-shots began to 
 flash, and the bullets sang mournfully. 
 
 " Don t empty youah guns now," called the sheriff. 
 " Wait till you close on em." 
 
 They had reached the parsonage as he spoke, and 
 Barton turned in at the gate and leaped from his 
 horse, while the rest swept on. The shots and yells 
 had ceased. The only sounds were the rattle of gal 
 loping hoofs as the mounted citizens trailed after the 
 posse, and the footfalls of those who were running. 
 
 Three dark forms lay in the door-yard. On the 
 veranda knelt the clergyman, supporting his brother s 
 
 333 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 head. Running into the house, the sheriff caught up 
 a lamp and returned, holding it so that the light fell 
 on the operator. He was very pale, and apparently 
 unconscious, but there was no blood visible. 
 
 " Did yoh get any whiskey down iin ? " asked the 
 sheriff. 
 
 " I have none," replied the parson. 
 
 Barton pulled a flask from his pocket, uncorked it, 
 and little by little forced some of its contents down 
 the throat of the wounded man, who finally made a 
 convulsive effort to swallow. 
 
 The men who came on foot began to throng the 
 door-yard. " The doctor s comin ," called one of them. 
 " Three men s gone ter fetch him." 
 
 "Is he hurt badly?" asked the clergyman. "Is it 
 do you think will he recover?" 
 
 Barton looked up impatiently. " Cohse he s huht 
 bad," said he. " Don s pose he s doin* this f oh fun. 
 Cyan t tell how bad till we look. Doctah ll be heah 
 in a minute." 
 
 The clergyman peered into his brother s face. He 
 was by far the paler of the two. At that moment 
 Henry opened his eyes. " Hello, James ! " he said 
 faintly. " Are you all right ? " 
 
 The clergyman caught his brother s hand. "Are 
 you in pain, Henry f Are you suffering ? " he cried. 
 
 "No, not yet. That ll come later, unless I have 
 good luck." 
 
 " But you will have good luck, as you call it, Henry. 
 You ll not be taken away yet I feel sure of it," said 
 James, trying to speak cheerfully, and failiDg. 
 
 334 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 " I don t mean that. I m gone, fast enough. Know 
 where the ball went struck the hip and glanced up." 
 
 Henry s voice was growing weaker. His brother 
 glanced at Barton, with eager inquiry in his look. 
 The sheriff nodded and turned away his head. 
 
 " I wouldn t bother myself about it more than I 
 could help, if I were in your place, James," the oper 
 ator struggled to say. "It s just as well. I don t 
 mind. I m awfully tired of it all. Been tired for 
 three years." He paused for a moment, breathing 
 heavily, and then went on : " Remember me to them 
 at home, if you think they d care to hear. So long, 
 Barton. See that my brother don t run up against 
 anything more." Henry closed his eyes, and his 
 head fell forward. 
 
 "Henry, Henry, isn t there something I can do? 
 Think ! Surely if you are about to die you can re 
 pent. May I not" 
 
 In his earnestness the clergyman gave his brother s 
 arm a little shake. . The sheriff made a warning mo 
 tion, and the wounded man opened his eyes. 
 
 "I don t think it s worth while now," said he. 
 " Don t shake. It hurts. Rather think I m going 
 now. Feels that way. Good-by, James." Once 
 more Henry s head fell forward, and this time he was 
 unconscious. 
 
 " Le s get him intah the house," said the sheriff. 
 " We c n do it thout huhtin him now." 
 
 Half a dozen men sprang forward to help. 
 
 " Here comes the doctor," somebody said. 
 
 In another moment the operator was laid on a 
 
 335 
 
Sand and Cactus 
 
 lounge in the clergyman s study and the doctor was 
 bending over him. James and the sheriff waited im 
 patiently for his verdict, one pacing nervously about 
 the room, the other standing as though carved in 
 stone. 
 
 At last the clergyman could stand the suspense no 
 longer. " Tell me, doctor, for heaven s sake ! " he 
 cried. " Will he live ? " 
 
 The doctor did not turn his head. " I m doing all 
 I can for him," said he. " He may regain conscious 
 ness, but don t count on it." 
 
 For a moment the clergyman stared as though he 
 had not understood ; then pulling himself together, he 
 left the room, and Barton followed him on to the 
 veranda. Evidently the officer wished to say some 
 thing, but he hesitated, and James looked at him in 
 a helpless sort of way, his thoughts evidently else 
 where. 
 
 11 1 know what hahd luck it is ; I know how it hits 
 yoh," timidly said the officer at last. " He was all a 
 man, an he s dyin like he lived. Look at them" 
 pointing as he spoke to the motionless bodies that lay 
 in the door-yard. The parson turned away his face. 
 Barton nervously opened and shut his hands, and 
 then went on : "I don hahdly know how tuh say it, 
 but the boys every one knows what he was. Theah 
 ain t no man nowheahs that was whitah than him. 
 No man couldn t a walked straightah, nor talked 
 straightah, nor shot straightah than him, an suah 
 no man couldn t go out bettah. He always seemed 
 kindah up against it heah, like sunthin had gone 
 
 336 
 
A Brother to St. James 
 
 wrong; an yoh know bettah n I c n tell yoh that 
 he ll suah strike a soft thing wheah he s go n tali fetch 
 up. I ain t tryin tuh tell yoh youah business," he 
 hastened to explain. "I jus wanted yoh tuh know 
 how we-all felt, that s all. An yoh needn feah foh 
 them what shot him. It ain t likely that theah livin 
 now." 
 
 With a visible effort the clergyman collected him 
 self. "I spoke to you harshly, unjustly, the other 
 day," said he. " I am very sorry. But I didn t under 
 stand." 
 
 "Don mention that no moah," cried Barton. "I 
 know yoh did what yoh thought w^as straight. He 
 tol me. It s all right. Yoh hadn caught on, that s 
 all." 
 
 "No. I m learning now. But it s hard to learn. 
 Very hard. Very, very hard." 
 
 "It suah is," assented Barton, sympathetically. 
 "It s expe ience what tells, an expe ience comes 
 awful high sometimes." He turned to leave, then 
 glanced once more through the window at the form 
 of the operator as it lay on the lounge, and added : 
 " I liked him mighty well." 
 
 337 
 
YB "73078