Part 42 (1/2)

”H-how d'ye know about Bill?” he gasped.

”Never mind how I know,” Samson replied. Then he turned toward Glen.

”Excuse me, Miss,” and he lifted his old weather-beaten hat, ”I'm real sorry that you have to witness sich a scene as this. But it can't be helped, fer thar stands the worst criminal that ever came into this region. An' to think of him talkin' about murder an' justice, when he himself murdered his own pardner!”

”It's a lie!” Curly denied with an oath. ”What d'ye mean by making such a charge?”

”It's no lie, Curly,” and the prospector looked sternly into the cur's bloodshot eyes. ”I've got all the proof that's necessary to stretch yer neck. But it'll keep until the right ones git hold of ye. In the meantime, we might as well go down to Shorty's an' git something to eat. I'm as hungry as a two-year-old bear. We'll take these fellers along,” and he motioned to the miners. ”Jist let yer Injuns look after 'em, Miss. An' ye'd better see that Curly is tied tight so's he can't git away. We don't want to run any risk with him.”

It took but a few minutes to carry out this latter suggestion, and then all headed for the mining creek. The miners were marshalled by the Indians, with Samson walking watchfully by Curly's side, while Reynolds kept close to Glen. No one spoke, and it was a strange procession which wound its way down the creek, and at length halted in front of the roadhouse.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE OLD TRUE STORY

There was great indignation at Shorty's when the miners heard of the villainous attempt upon Reynolds' life. At first they would hardly believe it, but as they listened to Frontier Samson, whose words were confirmed by Glen, and Reynolds, they knew that it must be true. Then when they learned that Curly was guilty of the murder of his partner, Bill Ducett, they became thoroughly aroused.

These miners were the finest men at Big Draw. They worked hard and minded their own business. They were not given to much talk, due, no doubt, to long years in the wilderness. Neither were they carried away by any sudden impulse on the spur of the moment. They never had anything in common with Curly and his gang, although they had often listened to their vapid boastings. So now when they learned of the despicable affair up the narrow creek, they did not take matters into their own hands, and visit upon the miscreants swift and dire punishment. They decided, after a brief consultation with Frontier Samson, to keep close guard upon Curly and hand him over to the Mounted Police, who were expected back the next day. His companions would be allowed their freedom until needed.

”Such actions must be stopped,” one big weather-beaten veteran of many trails declared. ”Curly and his bunch, as well as all others of such breed, must learn first as last that the Police are here to give British justice, and a fair trial to every man, no matter who he is.

It's not for any of us to deal with such brutes as Curly and his gang.”

”I agree with you, Tom,” another replied. ”But it's a pity we didn't hear sooner about what was taking place up the draw. We'd a been there in no time. I can't understand how that Indian t.i.tsla learned the news. He was here yesterday selling meat, but he never mentioned a word to us.”

”I imagine he thought the hull bunch of yez was in the plot,” Samson replied, ”an' so he hit the trail fer Glen West as fast as he could.

That's the way with them Injuns.” Then he turned suddenly and walked over to Shorty. ”Say, old man,” he began, ”rustle up some grub fer them Injuns outside, will ye? I'd like to give 'em a good feed before they leave. An' hand out something to the rest of us while yer at it.

I'm most starved, an' I guess the rest are, too. I'll foot the bill.”

In less than an hour Shorty had the Indians fed, and when Samson had provided each with a large plug of tobacco, they all left in the best of spirits for Glen West.

Reynolds' entire solicitude was for Glen. He thought not of himself, and paid little heed to the miners as they discussed Curly and his companions. His only concern was for her who was sitting in the one arm-chair the room contained with such a weary look in her eyes. The stern expression had vanished from her face, and she was the real Glen again. She did not care to talk, although she listened intently to everything that was said. But after the miners had left, and she sat down to the supper Shorty had prepared, she became more animated.

”Oh, I am so glad that we are alone at last!” and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. ”It seems as if I have had a fearful dream.”

”You'll be all right, Miss, as soon as ye git a good night's sleep,”

Samson replied. ”Yer a bit used up at present.”

”I suppose so. But where shall I sleep?”

”Here, of course. Shorty's goin' to give ye his best room, an' not a soul will disturb ye until mornin'. Then ye must be up bright an'

early. Yer dad wants ye at his cabin.”

”Is anything wrong?” Glen anxiously asked.

”Nuthin', Miss. But yer dad wants ye as soon as ye kin git thar.”

”How does he know I'm here?” and Glen looked her surprise.

”How does he know?” Samson slowly repeated. ”Wall, that's fer you to find out. I jist come from thar to-day, so I know that he wants ye.