is that I've got you where I want you, Mr. Norris, alias Mr. Boone. You're wound up in a net you cayn't get away from. You're wanted back East, and you're wanted here. I'm onto your little game, sir. Think I don't know you've been trying to manufacture evidence against me as a rustler? Think I ain't wise to your whole record? You're arrested for robbing the Fort Allison stage."
Norris, standing close in front of him, shot his right hand out and knocked the officer backward from the fence. Before the latter could get on his feet again the cowpuncher was scudding through the night. He reached his horse, flung himself on, and galloped away. Harmlessly a bullet or two zipped after him as he disappeared.
The deputy climbed over the fence again and laughed softly to himself. "You did that right well, Jack. He'll always think he did that by his lone, never will know you was a partner in that escape. It's a fact, though, I could have railroaded him through on the evidence, but not without including the old man. No, there wasn't any way for it but that grandstand escape of Mr. Boone's."
Still smiling, he dusted himself, put up his revolver, and returned to the house.
CHAPTER XII
THE TENDERFOOT MAKES A PROPOSITION
Melissy waited in dread expectancy to see what would happen. Of quick, warm sympathies, always ready to bear with courage her own and others' burdens, she had none of that passive endurance which age and experience bring. She was keyed to the heroism of an occasion, but not yet to that which life lays as a daily burden upon many without dramatic emphasis.
All next day nothing took place. On the succeeding one her father returned with the news that the "Monte Cristo" contest had been continued to another term of court. Otherwise nothing unusual occurred. It was after mail time that she stepped to the porch for a breath of fresh air and noticed that the reward placard had been taken down.
"Who did that?" she asked of Alan McKinstra, who was sitting on the steps, reading a newspaper and munching an apple.
"Jack Flatray took it down. He said the offer of a reward had been withdrawn."
"When did he do that?"
"About an hour ago. Just before he rode off."
"Rode off! Where did he go?"
"Heard him say he was going to Mesa. He told your father that when he settled the bill."
"He's gone for good, then?"
"That's the way I took it. Say, Melissy, Farnum says Jack told him the gold had been found and turned back to Morse. Is that right?"
"How should I know?"
"Well, it looks blamed funny they could get the bullion back without getting the hold-up."
"Maybe they'll get him yet," she consoled him.
"I wish I could get a crack at him," the boy murmured vengefully.
"You had one chance at him, didn't you?"
"Jos spoiled it. Honest, I wasn't going to lie down, 'Lissie."
Again the days followed each other uneventfully. Bellamy himself never came for his mail now, but sent one of the boys from the mine for it. Melissy wondered whether he despised her so much he did not ever want to see her again. Somehow she did not like to think this. Perhaps it might be delicacy on his part. He was going to drop the whole thing magnanimously and did not want to put upon her the obligation of thanking him by presenting himself to her eyes.
But though he never appeared in person, he had never been so much in her mind. She could not rid herself of a growing sympathy and admiration for this man who was holding his own against many. A story which was being whispered about reached her ears and increased this. A bunch of his sheep had been found poisoned on their feeding ground, and certain cattle interests were suspected of having done the dastardly thing.
When she could stand the silence no longer Melissy called up Jack Flatray on the telephone at Mesa.
"You caught me just in time. I'm leaving for Phoenix to-night," he told her. "What can I do for you, Miss Lee?"
"I want to know what's being done about that Fort Allison stage hold-up."
"The money has been recovered."
"I know that, but--what about the--the criminals?"
"They made their getaway all right."
"Aren't you looking for them?"
"No."
"Did Mr. Morse want you to drop it?"
"Yes. He was very urgent about it."
"Does he know who the criminals are?"
"Yes."
"And isn't going to prosecute?"
"So he told me."
"What did Mr. Morse say when you made your report?"
"Said, 'Thank you.'"
"Oh, yes, but--you know what I mean."
"Not being a mind-reader----"
"About the suspect. Did he say anything?"
"Said he had private reasons for not pushing the case. I didn't ask him what they were."
This was all she could get out of him. It was less than she had hoped. Still, it was something. She knew definitely what Bellamy had done. Wherefore she sat down to write him a note of thanks. It took her an hour and eight sheets of paper before she could complete it to her satisfaction. Even then the result was not what she wanted. She wished she knew how he felt about it, so that she could temper it to the right degree of warmth or coolness. Since she did not know, she erred on the side of stiffness and made her message formal.
"Mr. Thomas L. Morse, "Monte Cristo Mine.
"Dear Sir:
"Father and I feel that we ought to thank you for your considerate forbearance in a certain matter you know of. Believe me, sir, we are grateful.
"Very respectfully, "Melissy Lee."
She could not, however, keep herself from one touch of sympathy, and as a postscript she navely added:
"I'm sorry about the sheep."
Before mailing it she carried this letter to her father. Neither of them had ever referred to the other about what each knew of the affair of the robbery. More than once it had been on the tip of Champ Lee's tongue to speak of it, but it was not in his nature to talk out what he felt, and with a sigh he had given it up. Now Melissy came straight to the point.
"I've been writing a letter to Mr. Morse, dad, thanking him for not having me arrested."
Lee shot at her a glance of quick alarm.
"Does he know about it, honey?"
"Yes. Jack Flatray found out the whole thing and told him. He was very insistent on dropping it, Mr. Flatray says."
"You say Jack found out all about it, honey?" repeated Lee in surprise.
He was seated in a big chair on the porch, and she nestled on one arm of it, rumpled his gray hair as she had always done since she had been a little girl, kissed him, and plunged into her story.
He heard her to the end without a word, but she noticed that he gripped the chair hard. When she had finished he swept her into his arms and broke down over her, calling her the pet names of her childhood.
"Honey-bird ... Dad's little honey-bird ... I'm that ashamed of myse'f. 'Twas the whisky did it, lambie. Long as I live I'll nevah touch it again. I'll sweah that befo' God. All week you been packin' the troubles I heaped on you, precious, and afteh you-all saved me from being a criminal...."
So he went on, spending his tempestuous love in endearments and caresses, and so together they afterward talked it out and agreed to send the letter she had written.
But Lee was not satisfied with her atonement. He could not rest to let it go at that, without expressing