Part 58 (1/2)

I can't make out which of these raiders she ran away with.”

”She's going to defend them both,” said Throop; ”and she's going to deny everything. I'd like to work the third degree on her. I'd bet I'd find out what she was doing down at Watson's.”

Helen, who knew the value which her defenders placed on the correspondence between Rita's shoes and the footprint, was very grave as she said: ”I hope she had no part in the murder. Mrs. Throop says she is hardly more than a child.”

”Well,” warned the sheriff, ”we're not the court. It's up to Carmody and his jury.”

They said no more about the trial, and Hanscom soon left the room with intent to find a lawyer who would be willing for a small fee to represent the Kauffmans--a quest in which he was unsuccessful.

The sheriff followed him out. ”Reckon I'd better take you up to Carmody's office in my car,” he said. ”Kitsong may succeed in clapping a warrant on your head.”

VIII

The valley had wakened early in expectation of an exciting day. The news of the capture of Busby and his companions had been telephoned from house to house and from ranch to ranch, and the streets were already filled with farmers and their families, adorned as for a holiday. The entire population of Sh.e.l.lfish Canon had a.s.sembled, voicing high indignation at the ranger's interference. Led by Abe and Eli, who busily proclaimed that the arrest of Henry and his companions was merely a trick to divert suspicion from the Kauffman woman, they advanced upon the coroner.

Abe had failed of getting a warrant for the ranger, but boasted that he had the promise of one as soon as the inquest should be ended.

”Furthermore,” he said, ”old Louis Cuneo is on his way over the range, and I'll bet something will start the minute he gets in.”

Carmody, who was disposed to make as much of his position as the statutes permitted, had called the hearing in a public hall which stood a few doors south of his office, and at ten o'clock the aisles were so jammed with expectant auditors that Throop was forced to bring his witnesses in at the back door. Nothing like this trial in the way of free entertainment had been offered since the day Jim Nolan was lynched from the railway bridge.

Hanscom was greatly cheered by the presence of his chief, Supervisor Rawlins, who came into the coroner's office about a quarter to ten. He had driven over from Cambria in anxious haste, greatly puzzled by the rumors which had reached him. He was a keen young Marylander, a college graduate, with considerable experience in the mountain West. He liked Hanscom and trusted him, and when the main points of the story were clear in his mind he said:

”You did perfectly right, Hans, and I'll back you in it. I'm something of a dabster at law myself, and I'll see that Kitsong don't railroad you into jail. What worries me is the general opposition now being manifested. With the whole Sh.e.l.lfish Valley on edge, your work will be hampered. It will make your position unpleasant for a while at least.”

Hanscom uneasily s.h.i.+fted his glance. ”That doesn't matter. I'm going to quit the work, anyhow.”

”Oh no, you're not!”

”Yes, I am. I wrote out my resignation this morning.”

Rawlins was sadly disturbed. ”I hate to have you let this gang drive you out.”

”It isn't that,” replied Hanscom, somberly. ”The plain truth is, Jack, I've lost interest in the work. If Miss McLaren is cleared--and she will be--she'll go East, and I don't see myself going back alone into the hills.”

The supervisor studied him in silence for a moment, and his voice was gravely sympathetic as he said: ”I see! This girl has made your cabin seem a long way from town.”

”She's done more than that, Jack. She's waked me up. She's shown me that I can't afford to ride trail and camp and cook and fight fire any more.

I've got to get out into the world and rustle a home that a girl like her can be happy in. I'm started at last. I want to do something. I'm as ambitious as a ward politician!”

The supervisor smiled. ”I get you! I'm sorry to lose you, but I guess you are right. If you're bent on winning a woman, you're just about obliged to jump out and try something else. But don't quit until I have time to put a man in your place.”

Hanscom promised this, although at the moment he had a misgiving that the promise might prove a burden, and together they walked over to the hall.

The crowded room was very quiet as the ranger and his chief entered and took seats near the platform on which the coroner and his jury were already seated. It was evident, even at a glance, that the audience was very far from being dominated, or even colored, by the Sh.e.l.lfish crowd, and yet, as none of the spectators, men or women, really knew the Kauffmans, they could not be called friendly. They were merely curious.

Hanscom was somewhat relieved to find that the jury was not precisely the same as it had been on the hillside. An older and better man had replaced Steve Billop, a strong partisan of Kitsong's; but to counter-balance this a discouraging feature developed in the presence of William Raines, a dark, oily, whisky-soaked man of sixty, a lawyer whose small practice lay among the mountaineers of Watson's type.

”He's here as Kitsong's attorney,” whispered the ranger, who regretted that he had not made greater efforts to secure legal aid. However, the presence of his chief, a man of education and experience, rea.s.sured him in some degree.