Stepsons of Light Part 31

"Now for a clearing up," said Judge Hinkle. "You seem to have inside information, Mr. See. Suppose you tell us about it?"

"No chance for a mistake, judge. I had a long talk with Adam the night before, about a lost gold mine at Mescalero. And three of the phrases that we used back and forth--it seems he picked them out to name his find. 'Goblin Gold.' I used the word 'gobbling' gold--joking, you know. And the story was about 'nine bucks'; and it wound up with an old Mescalero saying 'Won't you please hush?' It wasn't possible that those three names had reached the papers Pete found, except through the dead man's mind. Adam called these three men to witness for him, likely. Then they killed him for his mines. They destroyed his location papers, but they kept the names. Easier than to make up new ones. That'll hang 'em."

"Sounds good. But how are you going to prove it? Suppose they get a good lawyer and stick to their story? They found a mine, and you got in a shooting match with Caney. That don't prove anything."

"Well, I'll bet I can prove it," said Johnny Dines. "Ten to one, that letter Forbes gave me to mail was his location papers. He seemed keen about it."

"Did he say anything about location papers? Was the letter addressed to the recorder?" demanded Pete.

"Look now!" said Johnny. "If this theory of See's is correct, and if that really was location papers in the letter I mailed--why, that letter won't get here till two o'clock this afternoon, whether it is the location papers or what. And the postmaster and the recorder are both here in this court room, judge. Gwinne was pointing out everybody to me, before you called court. So they can mosey along down to the post office together--the postmaster and the recorder. And when that letter comes you'll know all about it."

"Ah, that reminds me," said the judge--"the case of the Territory of New Mexico vs. John Dines is now dismissed. This court is now adjourned. John Dines, I want to be the first to congratulate you."

"Thanks, Judge.--Hiram," said Johnny, "Cole told me to report to you.

He said I was to go to the John Cross pasture and pick me a mount from the runaways there."

"But, Johnny, you can't ride those horses," said Bojarquez.

Johnny flushed. "Don't you believe it, old hand. You're not the only one that can ride."

Bojarquez spread out his hands. "But bareback? Where ees your saddle?

And the Twilight horse? The bridle, he ees broke. Scarb'ro's in Chihuahua by now."

"Dinner's on me," said Johnny.

Charlie See drew Johnny aside and spoke to him in confidence.

"How does it happen you know so pat just when a letter gets to Hillsboro when it is posted in Garfield?"

"A letter? Oh--Hobby Lull, he told me."

"Yes, yes. And what was the big idea for keeping still about that letter while they wove a rope to your neck?"

"Why, my dear man," said Johnny, "I can't read through a sealed envelope."

Charlie sniffed. "You saw a good many things mighty clear, I notice, but you overlooked the one big bet--like fun you did! Caney and Weir and Hales--don't you suppose they knew that letter was on the way? And that it was never to reach the recorder?"

"Since you are so very shrewd," said Johnny, "I sometimes wonder that you are not shrewder still."

"And keep my mouth shut? That's how I shall keep it. But I just wanted you to know. You may be deceiving me, but you're not fooling me any.

Keep your secret."

"Thank you," said Johnny, "I will."

"Good boy. All the same, Hobby and I will be up at the post office.

And I know now what we'll find in that letter you mailed. We'll find Adam's location papers, with them three murderers for witness."

And they did. They found something else too; a message from beyond the grave that in his hour of fortune their friend did not forget his friends.

They buried Adam Forbes at sundown of that day. No thing was lacking; his friends and neighbors gathered together to bid him G.o.dspeed; there were love and tears for him. And of those friends, three were all road stained and weary; they had ridden hard from Hillsboro for that parting; Lull and Charlie See and old Pete. It was to one of these that all eyes were turned when the rude coffin was lowered into the grave.

"Pete?" said Jim-Ike-Jones.

And old Pete Harkey stepped forth and spoke slowly, while his faded old eyes looked past the open grave and rested on the hills beyond.

"More than at any other time we strive to center and steady our thoughts, when we stand by the loved and dead. It is an effort as vain as to look full and steadily at the blinding sun. I can tell you no thing here which you do not know.

"You all knew Adam Forbes. He was a simple and kindly man. He brought a good courage to living, he was all help and laughter, he joyed in the sting and relish of rus.h.i.+ng life. Those of you here who were most unfriends to him will not soon forget that gay, reckless, tender-hearted creature.

"You know his faults. He was given to hasty wrath, to stubbornness and violence. His hand was heavy. If there are any here who have been wronged by this dead man--as I think most like--let the memory of it be buried in this grave. It was never his way to walk blameless. He did many things amiss; he took wrong turnings. But he was never too proud to turn back, to admit a mistake or to right his wrongdoing. He paid for what he broke.

"For the rest--he fed the hungry, helped the weak, he nursed the sick and dug graves for the dead. Now, in his turn, it is fitting and just that no bought hand dug this grave, but that his friends and his foes did him this last service, and called pleasant dreams to his long sleep.

"We have our dear dreams, too. It can do no harm to dream that somewhere down the skies that brightness and fire and light still flames--but not for us.

"It is written that upon Mars Hill the men of Athens built an altar 'to the Unknown G.o.d.' It was well builded; and with no misgiving we leave our friend to the care--and to the honor--of the Unknown G.o.d."

He stood back; and from the women who wept came one who did not weep, dry-eyed and pale; whose pitying hand dropped the first earth into the grave.

"Stardust to Stardust," said Edith Harkey.

That night Pete Harkey stood by the big fireplace of the big lonesome house.

"Shall I light the fire, Edith?"

"Not to-night, father."

In the dimness he groped for a chair; he took her on his knee, her arms clung fast.

"Is it well with you, Edith?"

Then, in the clinging dusk she dared the truth at last; to ears that did not hear. For his thought was with the dead man. She knew it well; yet once to tell her story--only once! Her voice rang steady, prouder than any pride: "I have loved Greatheart. It is well with me."

"Poor little girl," he said. "Poor little girl!" The proud head sought his breast and now her tears fell fast.

And far away, Charlie See rode south through the wizard twilight.

There was no singing now. For at the world's edge some must fare alone; through all their dreams one unforgotten face--laughing, and dear, and lost.

THE END