A Fool for Love Part 6

With a word to his men--a word that stopped the strenuous labor-battle as suddenly as it had begun--he turned to pick his way down the rough hillside at the heels of the marshal.

For some reason that she could never have set out in words Virginia was distinctly disappointed. It was no part of her desire to see the conflict blaze up in violence, but it nettled her to see Winton give up so easily. Some such thought as this had possession of her while the marshal and his prisoner were picking their way across the ice, and she was hoping that Winton would give her a chance to requite him, if only with a look.

But it was Town-Marshal Peter Biggin, affectionately known to his const.i.tuents as "Bigginjin Pete," who gave her the coveted opportunity. Instead of disappearing decently with his captive, the marshal made the mistake of his life by marching Winton up the track to the private car, thrusting him forward, and saying: "Here's yer meat, Guv'nor. What-all 'ud ye like fer me to do with hit now I've got it?"

Now it is safe to a.s.sume that the Rajah had no intention of appearing thus openly as the instigator of Winton's arrest. Hence, if a fierce scowl and a wordless oath could maim, it is to be feared that the overzealous Mr. Biggin would have been physically disqualified on the spot. As it was, Mr. Darrah's ebullient wrath could find no adequate speech forms, and in the eloquent little pause Winton had time to smile up at Miss Carteret and to wish her the pleasantest of good-mornings.

But the Rajah's handicap was not permanent.

"Confound you, seh!" he exploded. "I'm not a justice of the peace! If you've made an arrest, you must have had a warrant for it, and you ought to know what to do with your prisoneh."

"I'm dashed if I do," objected the simple-hearted Mr. Biggin. "I allowed you wanted him."

Winton laughed openly.

"Simplify it for him, Mr. Darrah. We all know that it was your move to stop the work, and you have stopped it--for the moment. What is the charge, and where is it answerable?"

The Rajah dropped the mask and spoke to the point.

"The cha'ge, seh, is trespa.s.s, and it is answerable in Judge Whitcomb's cou't in Carbonate. The plaintiff in this particular case is John Doe, the supposable owneh of that mining claim up yondeh. In the next it will probably be Richa'd Roe. You are fighting a losing battle, seh."

Winton's smile showed his teeth.

"That remains to be seen," he countered coolly.

The Rajah waved a shapely hand toward the opposite embankment, where the tracklayers were idling in silent groups waiting for some one in authority to tell them what to do.

"We can do that every day, Misteh Winton. And each separate individual arrest will cost your company twelve hours, or such a matteh--the time required for you to go to Carbonate to give bond for your appearance."

During this colloquy Virginia had held her ground stubbornly, this though she felt intuitively that it would be the greatest possible relief to all three of these men if she would go away.

But now a curious struggle as of a divided allegiance was holding her.

Of course, she wanted Mr. Somerville Darrah to win. Since he was its advocate, his cause must be righteous and just. But against this dutiful convincement there was a rebellious hope that Winton would not allow himself to be beaten; or, rather, it was a feeling that she would never forgive him if he should.

So it was that she stood with face averted lest he should see her eyes and read the rebellious hope in them. And in spite of the precaution he both saw and read, and made answer to the Rajah's ultimatum accordingly.

"Do your worst, Mr. Darrah. We have some twenty miles of steel to lay to take us into the Carbonate yards. That steel shall go down in spite of anything you can do to prevent it."

Virginia waited breathless for her uncle's reply to this cool defiance. Quite contrary to all precedent, it was mildly expostulatory.

"It grieves me, seh, to find you so determined to cou't failure," he began; and when the whistle of the upcoming Carbonate train gave him leave to go on: "Constable, you will find transpo'tation for yourself and one in the hands of the station agent. Misteh Winton, that is your train. I wish you good-morning and a pleasant journey. Come, Virginia, we shall be late to ouh breakfast."

Winton walked back to the station at the heels of his captor, cudgeling his brain to devise some means of getting word to Adams.

Happily the Technologian, who had been unloading steel at the construction camp, had been told of the arrest, and when Winton reached the station he found his a.s.sistant waiting for him.

But now the train was at hand and time had grown suddenly precious.

Winton turned short upon the marshal.

"This is not a criminal matter, Mr. Biggin: will you give me a moment with my friend?"

The ex-cowboy grinned. "Bet your life I will. I ain't lovin' that old b'iler-buster in the private car none too hard." And he went in to get the pa.s.ses.

"What's up?" queried Adams, forgetting his drawl for once in a way.

"An arrest--trumped-up charge of trespa.s.s on that mining claim up yonder. But I've got to go to Carbonate to answer the charge and give bonds, just the same."

"Any instructions?"

"Yes. When the train is out of sight and hearing, you get back over there and drive that track-laying for every foot there is in it."

Adams nodded. "I'll do it, and get myself locked up, I suppose."

"No, you won't; that's the beauty of it. The majesty of the law--all there is of it in Argentine--goes with me to Carbonate in the person of the town-marshal."

"Oh, good--succulently good! Well, so long. I'll look for you back on the evening train?"

"Sure," was the confident reply, "if the Rajah doesn't order it to be abandoned on my poor account."

Ten minutes later, when the train had gone storming on its way to Carbonate and the Rosemary party was at breakfast, the clank of steel and the chanteys of the hammermen on the other side of the canyon began again with renewed vigor. The Rajah threw up his head like a war-horse scenting the battle from afar and laid his commands upon the long-suffering secretary.

"Faveh me, Jastrow. Get out there and see what they are doing, seh."

The secretary was back in the shortest possible interval, and his report was concise and business-like.

"Work under full headway again, in charge of a fellow who wears a billy-c.o.c.k hat and smokes cigarettes."

"Mr. Morton P. Adams," said Virginia, recognizing the description.

"Will you have him arrested too, Uncle Somerville?"

But the Rajah rose hastily without replying and went to his office state-room, followed, shadow-like, by the obsequious Jastrow.

It was some little time after breakfast, and Virginia and the Reverend Billy were doing a const.i.tutional on the plank platform at the station, when the secretary came down from the car on his way to the telegraph office.

It was Virginia who stopped him. "What do we do next, Mr. Jastrow?"

she said; "call in the United States Army?"

For reply he handed her a telegram, damp from the copying press. It was addressed to the superintendent of the C. G. R. at Carbonate, and she read it without scruple.

"Have the Sheriff of Ute County swear in a dozen deputies and come with them by special train to Argentine. Revive all possible t.i.tles to abandoned mining claims on line of the Utah Extension, and have Sheriff Deckert bring blank warrants to cover any emergency.

"DARRAH V.-P."

"That's one of them," said the secretary. "I daren't show you the other."

"Oh, please!" she said, holding out her hand, while the Reverend Billy considerately turned his back.

Jastrow weighed the chances of detection. It was little enough he could do to lay her under obligations to him, and he was willing to do that little as he could. "I guess I can trust you," he said, and gave her the second square of press-damp paper.

Like the first, it was addressed to the superintendent at Carbonate.