Part 48 (1/2)
Then he turned west and trotted his mount down to the hatchery, where he saw Ralph Wier, the Superintendent, standing outside the lodge talking to his a.s.sistant, George Fry.
When Lannis rode up on the opposite side of the brook, he called across to Wier:
”You haven't seen anything of any crooked outfit around here, have you, Ralph? I'm looking for that kind.”
”See here,” said the Superintendent, ”I don't know but George Fry may have seen one of your guys. Come over and he'll tell you what happened an hour ago.”
Trooper Lannis pivotted his horse and put him to the brook with scarcely any take-off; and the splendid animal cleared the water like a deer and came cantering up to the door of the lodge.
Fry's boyish face seemed agitated; he looked up at the State Trooper with the flush of tears in his gaze and pointed at the rifle Lannis carried:
”If I'd had _that_,” he said excitedly, ”I'd have brought in a crook, you bet!”
”Where did you see him?” inquired Lannis.
”Jest west of the Scaur, about an hour and a half ago. Wier and me was stockin' the head of Scaur Brook with fingerlings. There's more good water--two miles of it--to the east, and all it needed was a fish-ladder around Scaur Falls.
”So I toted in cement and sand and grub last week, and I built me a shanty on the Scaur, and I been laying up a fish-way around the falls.
So that's how I come there----” He clicked his teeth and darted a furious glance at the woods. ”By G.o.d,” he said, ”I was such a fool I didn't take no rifle. All I had was an axe and a few traps.... I wasn't going to let the mink get our trout whatever you fellows say,” he added defiantly, ”--and law or no law----”
”Get along with your story, young man,” interrupted Lannis; ”--you can spill the rest out to the Commissioner.”
”All right, then. This is the way it happened down to the Scaur. I was eating lunch by the fish-stairs, looking up at 'em and kind of planning how to save cement, and not thinking about anybody being near me, when _something_ made me turn my head.... You know how it is in the woods....
I kinda _felt_ somebody near. And, by cracky!--there stood a man with a big, black automatic pistol, and he had a bead on my belly.
”'Well,' said I, 'what's troubling _you_ and your gun, my friend?'--I was that astonished.
”He was a slim-built, powerful guy with a foreign face and voice and way. He wanted to know if he had the honour--as he put it--to introduce himself to a detective or game constable, or a friend of Mike Clinch.
”I told him I wasn't any of these, and that I worked in a private hatchery; and he called me a liar.”
Young Fry's face flushed and his voice began to quiver:
”That's the way he misused me: and he backed me into the shanty and I had to sit down with both hands up. Then he filled my pack-basket with grub, and took my axe, and strapped my kit onto his back.... And talking all the time in his mean, sneery, foreign way--and I guess he thought he was funny, for he laughed at his own jokes.
”He told me his name was Quintana, and that he ought to shoot me for a rat, but wouldn't because of the stink. Then he said he was going to do a quick job that the police were too cowardly to do;--that he was a-going to find Mike Clinch down to Drowned Valley and kill him; and if he could catch Mike's daughter, too, he'd spoil her face for life----”
The boy was breathing so hard and his rage made him so incoherent that Lannis took him by the shoulder and shook him:
”What next?” demanded the Trooper impatiently. ”Tell your story and quit thinking how you were misused!”
”He told me to stay in the shanty for an hour or he'd do for me good,”
cried Fry.... ”Once I got up and went to the door; and there he stood by the brook, wolfing my lunch with both hands. I tell you he cursed and drove me, like a dog, inside with his big pistol--my G.o.d--like a dog....
”Then, the next time I took a chance he was gone.... And I beat it here to get me a rifle----” The boy broke down and sobbed: ”He drove me around--like a dog--he did----”
”You leave that to me,” interrupted Lannis sharply. And, to Wier: ”You and George had better get a gun apiece. That fellow _might_ come back here or go to Harrod Place if we starve him out.”