Part 23 (1/2)
”n.o.body has any intention of moving. Come in,” said Daniel Moore.
A big man in a black slouch hat strode in.
”Come out, Jim Bowles. Don't try to escape. The house is surrounded.
You'll git shot for your pains if you do.”
”Jim Bowles is not in this house,” said Daniel Moore.
”Who are you?”
”My name is Moore. I come from Iowa.”
”And who might these be?” demanded the sheriff, pointing to Miss Helen and the girls.
”These ladies are taking a motor trip.”
”Let the women answer for themselves. Who are you?” demanded the sheriff roughly.
Miss Campbell drew herself up.
”Would you mind taking off your hat?” she said. ”It is easier for me to reply to a man when he is not wearing a hat.”
The sheriff removed his hat quickly.
”Excuse me, ma'am,” he said. ”We don't often see ladies in this wild country.”
”We are a party of motorists.” said Miss Campbell. ”We took the wrong road, and this very kind woman gave us shelter. To-morrow we hope to resume our journey.”
”Do you know you are probably in the cabin of one of the worst outlaws in the State?”
”Are you sure, sir? It is very difficult to believe, and where one is treated with so much hospitality one does not look for such things.”
The sheriff turned to Minnie:
”Where is your husband, girl?”
”I don't know.”
”Is he hiding in this house? Tell me the truth.”
”Look for yourself!” cried Minnie, flinging wide the door into the bedroom.
”I believe there's a mistake, Sheriff,” said one of the men. ”The chief's nest is farther up the mountain. These people could never have found it in a motor car.”
Presently the men left the house. There was a long, long interval when they sat listening with strained ears for sounds in the darkness. Once there were shots in the distance. At last, as their heads were drooping with fatigue and they yearned to lie down anywhere and sleep, the door opened and Jim Bowles crept cautiously in.
”Minnie will guide you to the Gap,” he said. ”I will meet you there, and show you the short cut through the mountains. Good night. And, Miss Campbell, I'll accept your proposition. I've been bad, I suppose, because I thought there wasn't n.o.body good, even the people that claimed to be-an' there wasn't no use of me bein', neither. But I was mistaken, by a long shot. You kin have back the money, too. I reckon I've got enough on hand to give the boys their share and still make it out. I was savin' up to buy a ranch in Idyho. But there's more ways than this of gittin' on. Minnie, I reckon you'll be glad. Ain't you, gal?”
”Glad?” whispered Minnie, moving to his side and resting her cheek against his shoulder.