Part 54 (1/2)

Hanscom was in no mood to dodge. ”I am--and I'm going to save her from coming here if I can.” He started for the door. ”I'll see Judge Brinkley and get her released. Carmody has no authority to hold her.”

”I hope you succeed,” said the sheriff, sympathetically; ”but at present I'm under orders from the coroner. It's up to him. So you think you've got the girl who made them tracks?”

”I certainly do, and I want you to hold these prisoners till Carmody gets home. Don't let anybody see them, and don't let them talk with one another. They'll all come before that jury to-morrow, and they mustn't have any chance to frame up a lie.”

”All right. I see your point. Go ahead. Your prisoners will be here when you come back.”

Hanscom went away, raging against the indignity which threatened Helen.

At Carmody's office he waited an hour, hoping the coroner might return, and, in despair of any help from him, set out at last for Brinkley's office, resolute to secure the judge's interference.

The first man he met on the street stopped him with a jovial word: ”h.e.l.lo, Hans! Say, you want to watch out for Abe Kitsong. He came b'ilin' in half an hour ago, and is looking for you. Says you helped that Dutchman and his girl (or wife, or whatever she is) to get away, and that you've been arresting Henry, his nephew, without a warrant, and he swears he'll swat you good and plenty, on sight.”

Hanscom's voice was savage as he replied: ”You tell him that I'm big enough to be seen with the naked eye, and if he wants me right away he'll find me at Judge Brinkley's office.”

The other man also grew serious. ”All the same, Hans, keep an eye out,”

he urged. ”Abe is sure to make you trouble. He's started in drinking, and when he's drunk he's poisonous as a rattler.”

”All right. I'm used to rattlers--I'll hear him before he strikes. He's a noisy brute.”

The ranger could understand that Rita's father might very naturally be thrown into a fury of protest by the news of his daughter's arrest, but Kitsong's concern over a nephew whom he had not hitherto regarded as worth the slightest care did not appear especially logical or singularly important.

Brinkley was not in his office and so Hanscom went out to his house, out on the north bend of the river in a large lawn set with young trees.

The judge, seated on his porch in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, exhibited the placid ease of a man whose office work is done and his gra.s.s freshly sprinkled.

”Good evening, Hanscom,” he pleasantly called. ”Come up and have a seat and a smoke with the gardener.”

”I have but a moment,” the ranger replied, and plunged again into the story, which served in this instance as a preface to his plea for intervention. ”You must help _me_, Judge. Miss McLaren must not go to jail. To arrest her in this way a second time is a crime. She's a lady, Judge, and as innocent of that shooting as a child.”

”You surprise me,” said Brinkley. ”According to all reports she is very, very far from being a lady.”

Hanscom threw out his hands in protest. ”They're all wrong, Judge. I tell you she _is_ a lady, and young and handsome.”

”Handsome and young!” The judge's eyes took on a musing expression.

”Well, well! that accounts for much. But what was she doing up there in the company of that old Dutchman?”

”I don't know why she came West, but I'm glad she did. I'm glad to have known her. That old Dutchman, as you call him, is her stepfather and a fine chap.”

”But Carmody has arrested her. What caused him to do that?”

”I don't know. I can't understand it. It may be that Kitsong has put the screws on him some way.”

The judge reflected. ”As the only strange woman in the valley, the girl naturally falls under suspicion of having made those footprints.”

”I know it, Judge, but you have only to see her--to hear her voice--to realize how impossible it is for her to kill even a coyote. All I ask, now, is that you save her from going to jail.”

”I don't see how I can interfere,” Brinkley answered, with gentle decision. ”As coroner, Carmody has the case entirely in his hands till after the verdict. But don't take her imprisonment too hard,” he added, with desire to comfort him. ”Throop has a good deal of discretion and I'll 'phone him to make her stay as little like incarceration as possible. You see, while nominally she's only a witness for the state, actually she's on trial for murder, and till you can get your other woman before the jury she's a suspect. If you are right, the jury will at once bring in a verdict against other parties, known or unknown, and she will be free--except that she may have to remain to testify in her own case against the raiders. Don't worry, my dear fellow. It will come out all right.”