The Law-Breakers Part 28

Again the big fingers raked through the man's wet hair.

"I--wish I knew," Bill lamented helplessly. But a moment later a quick, bright look lit his big blue eyes. "I know," he almost shouted.

"Let's hunt this gang down--ourselves."

Kate's gaze had been steadily fixed upon the far side of the valley, where Charlie Bryant's house stood. Now, in response to the man's wild suggestion, it came slowly back to his face.

"I hadn't thought of--that," she said, after a pause.

In a wild burst of enthusiasm Bill warmed to his inspiration.

"No," he cried. "Of course not. That's because you aren't used to sc.r.a.pping." He laughed. "But why not? I'll do the sc.r.a.pping, and you--you just do the thinking. See? We'll share up. It's dead easy."

"Yes--it would be dead easy," Kate demurred.

"Easy? Of course it's easy. I'm pretty hot when it comes to a sc.r.a.p,"

Bill ran on with added confidence. "And a bunch of whisky-runners don't amount to a heap anyway."

Suddenly Kate rose from her seat. She moved a step toward him and laid one brown hand gently on his arm. She was smiling as she had smiled at the thought of her regard for this man's brother. There was something almost motherly now in her whole att.i.tude.

"You're a big, brave soul, and like all brave souls you're ready at all times to act--act first and think afterwards," she said very gently. "You said I was to think. Let me think now. You see, I know this place. I know this cla.s.s of man. It's the life of the police to deal with these whisky-runners, and they--they can do nothing against them. Then what are we, you, with your brave inexperience, I, with my woman's helplessness, going to do against them? Believe me, the men who carry on this traffic are absolutely desperate creatures who would give their lives at any moment rather than go to the penitentiary.

Life to them, their own and their enemy's, means nothing. They set no value on it whatsoever. The trade is profitable, and"--she sighed--"against the law. Those engaged in it live for the excitement of fighting the law. That's one of the reasons which makes it impossible that Charlie could be one of them. No, Mr. Bryant, I guess it's not for us to do this thing. We just couldn't do a thing. But we must think of Charlie, and, when we've thought, and the time comes, why, then--we'll act. Fyles is a brave man, and a just man," she went on, with a slight warmth. "He's a man of unusual capacity, and worth admiration. But he is a police officer," she added regretfully. "In saving Charlie from him we shall prevent one good man wronging another, and I guess that should be good service. Let's content ourselves with that. Will you help?"

Big Brother Bill had no hesitation at any time. He was carried away by the enthusiasm Kate's words inspired. He thrust out one great hand and crushed the woman's in its palm.

"Sure I'll help. I've just got two hands and a straight eye, and when fight's around I don't care if it snows. My head's the weak spot. But, anyway, what you say goes. We'll save Charlie, or--or--Say, a real bright woman's just about the grandest thing G.o.d ever made."

Kate winced under the crus.h.i.+ng force of his handshake, but she smiled bravely and thankfully up into his face as she bade him "good night."

CHAPTER XVII

BILL PEEPS UNDER THE SURFACE

The surprises of the night were not yet over for Big Brother Bill. It almost seemed as if a lifetime of surprises were to be crowded into his first night in the valley of Leaping Creek.

Still thoroughly moist, he finally reached home to find his brother there, waiting for him.

Of course, the big man promptly blundered.

Charlie was in the living room, sitting in a dilapidated rocking chair. An unopen book was in his lap, and his dark, clever face was turned toward the single window the room possessed, as the heavy tread of Bill sounded on the veranda.

It was obvious he was still laboring under the influence of the drink; it was also obvious, though less apparent, that he was laboring under an emotion, which unusually disturbed him. His eyes were s.h.i.+ning with a gleaming light which might have expressed anger, excitement, or even simply the effect of his libations. Whatever it was, Bill recognized, without appreciating its meaning, a definite change from the man he had so cordially greeted earlier in the day; a recognition which made his blundering now, more hopelessly than ever, an expression of his utter lack of discretion.

"Say, Charlie, boy," he cried, as he entered the little room, filling it almost to overflowing with his robust personality, "I've chased half over the valley looking for you. Then I saw you at the old pine and shouted, and you sort of faded away. I thought I'd 'got' 'em. What with that, and then falling into the river, and one or two minor, but more or less unpleasant accidents, I've had one awful time. Say, this valley's got me beat to death."

The simplicity of the man was monumental. No one else could have looked upon that slight figure, huddled down in the big old rocker, without having experienced a feeling of restraint; no one could have observed the drawn, frowning brows, and the hard lines about the still somewhat sensual mouth, without using an added caution in approaching him. There were fires stirring behind Charlie's dark eyes which were certainly ominous.

Now, as he listened to his brother's greeting, swift anger leaped into them. His words came sharply, and almost without restraint. Big Brother Bill was confronted by another side of his nature, a side of which he had no knowledge whatever.

"You always were a d.a.m.ned fool," Charlie cried, starting heatedly forward in his chair. "I told you I was going out. If you had any sort of horse sense you'd have understood I wasn't in need of a wet-nurse.

What the devil do you want smelling out my trail as if you were one of the police?" Then he suddenly broke into an unpleasant laugh. "You came here in Fyles's company. Maybe you caught the police infection from him."

Bill stared in wide-eyed astonishment at the harsh injustice of the attack. For one second his blood ran hot, and a wild desire to retaliate leaped. But the moment pa.s.sed. Though he was not fully aware of Charlie's condition, something of it now forced itself upon him, and his big-hearted regret saved him from his more rampant feelings.

He sat himself on the edge of the table.

"Easy, Charlie," he said quietly, "you're kind of talking recklessly.

I'm no wet-nurse to anybody. Certainly it's not my wish to interfere with you. I'm--sorry if I've hurt you. I just looked around to tell you my adventures, I'm no--spy."

Charlie rose from his seat. He stood swaying slightly. The sight of this outward sign of his drunken condition smote the good-natured Bill to the heart. It was nothing new to him in his erring brother. He had seen it all before, years ago, so many, many times. But through all these years apart he had hoped for that belated reforming which meant so much. He had hoped and believed it had set in. Now he knew, and his last hopes were dashed. Kate Seton had warned him, but her warning had not touched him as the exhibition he now beheld did. Why, why had Charlie done this thing, and done it to-night--their first night together in the new world? He could have cried out in his bitterness of disappointment.

As he looked upon the man's unsteady poise he felt as though he could have picked him up in his two strong hands and shaken sober senses into him.

But Charlie's mood had changed at the sound of the big man's regrets.

They had penetrated the mists of alcohol, and stirred a belated contrition.

"I don't want any apologies from you, Bill," he said thickly. "Guess I'm not worth it. You couldn't spy on a soul. It's not that----." He broke off, and it became evident to the other that he was making a supreme effort at concentration. "You saw me at the pine?" he suddenly inquired.

Bill nodded. He had no desire to say anything more now. He felt sick with himself, with everything. He almost regretted his own coming to the valley at all. For a moment his optimism was utterly obscured.

Added to what he now beheld, all that Kate Seton had said was revolving in his brain, an oppressive cloud depriving him of every joy the reunion with his brother had inspired. The two thoughts paramount, and all pervading, were suggested by the words "drunkard" and "crook."

Nor, in that moment of terrible disappointment, would they be denied.

Charlie sat down in his chair again, and, to the onlooker, his movement was almost involuntary.

"I was there," he said, a moment later, pa.s.sing one hand across his frowning brows as though to clear away the cobwebs impeding the machinery of his thought. "Why--why didn't you come and speak to me? I was just--around."

Again Bill's eyes opened to their fullest extent.

"I hollered to you," he said. "When you heard me you just--vanished."

Again Charlie smoothed his brow.

"Yes--I'd forgotten. It was you hollered, eh! You see, I didn't know it was you."

Bill sat swinging one leg thoughtfully. A sort of bewilderment was getting hold of him.

"You didn't recognize my voice?" he asked. Then he added thoughtfully, "No--and it might have been Fyles, or the other policemen. They were there."

Charlie suddenly sat up. His hands were grasping the arms of the rocker.

"The police were there--with you?" he demanded. "What--what were they doing there--with you?"

The sharp questions, flung at him so quickly, so soberly, suddenly lifted Bill out of his vain and moody regrets.

In spite of all Kate had told him, in spite of her a.s.surance that Fyles, and all the valley, believed Charlie to be the head of the smuggling gang, the full significance of Fyles's presence in the neighborhood of the pine had not penetrated to his slow understanding before. Now an added light was thrown upon the matter in a flash of greater understanding. Fyles was not watching any chance crook. He was watching Charlie, and he knew it was Charlie, and the a.s.surance of Charlie's ident.i.ty extracted from him, Bill, had been a simple blind.

What a fool he had made of himself. Kate was right. The harm he had done now became appalling.