The Mesa Trail Page 16

  CHAPTER XVI--DORALES POSTS NOTICES

  The excitement caused by the arrival of James Z. Premble caused everyoneto forget the horseman who had been seen approaching from the north. AndMr. Premble, somewhat against his inmost desire, continued for a time tofill the centre of the picture.

  The assemblage quite filled the shack--crowded it, in fact. Premble, theNew Yorker, barely paused for introductions before diving into the foodthat Mrs. Crump set before him. Lewis sat and smoked in the lean-to, bythe stove; Gilbert lounged beside the door. Mackintavers sat in thecorner, chewing a cigar. Coravel Tio was rolling a cigarette with greatcare, and sighed a little as he licked it; leaning forward, he scratcheda match upon the floor, and took advantage of a pause in theconversation to address James Z. Premble.

  "An odd name, senor," he said, softly. "A very odd name! I have nevermet any one whose initial was that of Z. May I ask what name it standsfor, senor?"

  Mr. Premble looked at his questioner, and in his shrewd eyes thereshowed a swift and sudden hesitation; but Coravel Tio was lighting hiscigarette with much absorption.

  "Zacariah," responded the New Yorker. "I don't like the name, myself.Never use it."

  "Ah, yes! Now that I remember, I have met others--there is a nameZebulon, I think, eh? Yes, Zebulon. So you are the gentleman of whomyour firm wrote me, eh? I am glad to meet you, senor, very glad. Youhave letters and so forth? You see, I am part owner of this property,senor, and while I do not doubt you in the least, I desire to make quitesure of things before talking business."

  Laying down his knife and fork, Premble once again inspected CoravelTio, who was now looking directly at him. Something in those gentle,mournful black eyes seemed to cause the city man uneasiness anddisquiet. He reached into his pocket, nodding.

  "Eh? Sure, I have plenty of papers that will establish my identity andprove my authority to deal with you. A little bit hasty, aren't you? Notrouble, though. Glad to have you assure yourself----"

  He produced a sheaf of papers and passed them intact, as though entirelycertain of their contents, to Mrs. Crump. That lady, her keen blue eyessuddenly perplexed and watchful, handed on the papers to Coravel Tio.The latter, in silence, began to unfold and look at them, one afteranother. Premble continued his meal, and fell to talking with theothers.

  Presently Coravel Tio came to the end of his cigarette. He rose andtossed the butt through the open doorway, where Gilbert was lounging.His eyes snapped a message to those of Gilbert; in turn, Gilbert made aslight motion. Lewis rose and shoved aside the curtain from the window,as though desiring more air, and then stood watching.

  Coravel Tio returned to his stool. At another pause in the conversation,he tapped the refolded documents on his knee.

  "These are all correct, Mr. Premble," he said, gently. "Do you know--ah,there is something that puzzles me! Now, when I had the pleasure ofmeeting you in Las Vegas last month, your name was different; it wasZebulon and not Zacariah. And you looked different, senor. Then, if Iremember rightly, you wore a moustache, and your eyes were anothercolour, and you had a stronger chin than you have at present."

  A sudden tense silence had come upon the room. James Z. Premble lookedvery red, then his features paled again. Imperceptibly, his right handfluttered toward his left armpit.

  "Don't do it!" said Lewis, from the window, and Mr. Premble gazed intothe muzzle of a revolver. And: "Go slow!" said Gilbert, from thedoorway, carelessly fondling another revolver. Mr. James Z. Premble setboth hands upon the table in front of him.

  The chauffeur, seeing the general trend of events, quietly slid from hisstool and vanished beneath the table. Mrs. Crump sat motionless, lookingfrom one person to another. Sandy Mackintavers swallowed hard and madeas if to rise, but Lewis shifted eyes and weapon slightly, and Sandychanged his mind about moving.

  "I was afraid of something like this." The voice of Coravel Tio wasgently apologetic. "You see, the real James Zebulon Premble always keepshis engagements to the minute--unless something has happened to him. Heis now two days overdue here. Of course, it would be possible foranother man to waylay him and to obtain his papers; it would be quitepossible for that other man to come here under the name of Premble, andto carry out a slight business transaction."

  "Smooth guy, aren't you?" sneered Premble. "You'll have a hell of a timeproving anything on me!"

  "My dear senor, _I_ don't want to prove anything on you!" said CoravelTio in pained surprise. "No, no, far from it! But I suspect that acertain firm by the name of the Williams Manufacturing Company, a firmthat is very jealous of its reputation, might like to know that you arein its employ. _Si!_ Of course, you'll not reveal to us for whom you areworking?"

  "I've nothing to say," sullenly returned Premble. He looked muchperturbed.

  "Very well. Gilbert, take the gun from the senor's left armpit and leadhim to his automobile. Tie him in his automobile and allow him to reposein peaceful meditation. That is all. Young man, kindly come from beneaththe table and resume your meal!"

  The chauffeur, looking sheepish, crawled into view again. Gilbertfulfilled the orders that had been given him, and departed with Mr.Premble.

  Sandy Mackintavers, although trying to appear impassive and unconcerned,signally failed in his endeavour. He was completely astounded, swept offhis feet, by the falling of Coravel Tio's mask. He was suddenly aware ofthe fact that in Coravel Tio he had a damnably clever antagonist.

  Now, too late, Sandy began to suspect a thousand things that did notappear on the surface. Conjectures flitted through his brain. Suspicionthat the hand of Coravel Tio was a very powerful hand, and that thishand was set against him, deepened into hard certainty. Yet--not evenCoravel Tio could know the truth! No one could know that Mackintaversand the false Premble were friends, were working in concert! There wasyet hope.

  "Aiblins, now, there's no tellin' about these mining sharks!" observedSandy in righteous accents. "I've had experiences of my own in thatline, aye! But if you're willing to talk over the proposition wediscussed last night----"

  Coravel Tio looked at him. Coravel Tio laughed gently, softly, veryacridly.

  "My dear senor!" he said. "You knew about the real Premble and hisbusiness here. Your friend met the real Premble and did his work verywell. You planned things nicely. You came and made us your proposition,knowing that we would refuse it, knowing that we would be assured thatyou and Premble were at enmity; knowing that we would sell out to SenorPremble--eh? And Premble would buy the mine for you. Ah, yes!

  "It was very cleverly planned, and very well executed. But now, senor,you had better go and sit beside your friend, and be driven back to townwith him. There I think that you will receive some interestinginformation. I would like to tell you about it myself, but----"

  At this point Mrs. Crump came to her feet. She understood the wholetrick at last, she understood the deep cunning of Mackintavers, and shewas white with fury.

  "Coravel Tio, this skunk sure makes me blush to see him! Now, I aim togive him a right good hidin', which same he deserves plenty. Getoutside, ye coyote--hustle!"

  From the wall Mrs. Crump seized her trusty blacksnake. Thoroughlyalarmed, Mackintavers attempted no protests but backed through thedoorway. Before the lady, however, uprose Coravel Tio, and his handrestrained her from pursuit.

  "No," he said, softly, looking into her eyes. "I have reasons, senora;good reasons."

  Mrs. Crump flushed, then paled again. Restraint came hard to her.

  "I aim to punish him," she rasped.

  "That is already arranged." Coravel Tio smiled at her. "That has beenarranged--by the gods of the San Marcos. You will, please, leaveeverything in my hands, senora. Everything! I wish to handle everythinghere to-day. Everything!"

  Mrs. Crump stared at him, puzzled. Then she tossed away the whip.

  "All right," she assented, sullenly, angrily. "I won't say anotherdamned word."

  By this time, Mackintavers was somewhere outside. Lewis still stood bythe window. Gilbert was presumably down at the au
tomobiles with hisprisoner.

  But now the voice of Gilbert came to them. It was lifted in a shout ofsurprise, a shout of aggrieved anger and amazement.

  "Hey! Hey, you feller! What the hell you doin' there? Hey, Mis' Crump!Hustle out here!"

  Those in the shack hastened outside--all except the chauffeur. Scentingfurther trouble, that gentleman grabbed his plate and again retiredbeneath the table, to finish his meal in security.

  As Mrs. Crump, standing out in the sunlight, surveyed the situation, shebecame aware that the previously discerned horseback rider had arrived.He had evidently ridden right over the long flank of the hogback, pastthe mine workings, into the canon. Fifty yards up the canon, fifty yardsabove the two shacks, lay a horse that was weary unto death, a horsethat had been ridden hard and furiously, without mercy.

  Not far from the horse was something white. This was a piece of new,white paper that had been fastened to Mrs. Crump's original locationnotice.

  Down below the shacks, between them and the automobiles, was anotherscrap of white; another piece of white paper fastened over anotherlocation notice. Standing only a few yards from the shack, and hurriedlytalking to Mackintavers, stood the rider who had just arrived. The manwas Abel Dorales. He had just put up those two notices, and he paid noattention whatever to the threatening approach of Gilbert.

  "Dorales!" gasped Mrs. Crump, and whirled. "Lewis! Here! Gi'me thatgun!"

  "Stop!" Coravel Tio grasped her arm. "Stop, senora! Force does nothing.Leave things in my hands, _si servase!_ Lewis, go and tell Gilbert to bequiet--_pronto!_"

  The potently gentle voice of Coravel Tio held firm command. He wasobeyed. Gilbert stood motionless, scowling; Mrs. Crump stayed her hand.

  Mackintavers walked quickly toward Mrs. Crump and Coravel Tio; eagernessshone in his eyes, and exultation. Behind him strode Abel Dorales,fixedly regarding Mrs. Crump. The half-breed's features were thinlycruel; his nostrils quivered slightly; a shadowy smile curved his lipsinto sneering lines.

  Gilbert turned and walked toward the new notice posted by Dorales.

  "Just got some news," said Mackintavers, jerkily. "Abel is goin' to stayand tell ye bout it. I don't s'pose ye got any objection if I light outfor Magdalena, aiblins, now?"

  Coravel Tio was rolling a cigarette, quite unconcernedly. He flashedSandy a smile.

  "Object? Why should we object, senor? By all means, go! And take yourfriend with you, your friend whose name is Zacariah and not Zebulon._Vaya con Dios, senor!_"

  Mackintavers was plainly in haste to be off. He called to the chauffeur,who came from the shack and joined him. Together the two walked rapidlytoward the car wherein was reposing the bogus James Z. Premble.

  "Y'ain't goin' to let them varmints go?" Mrs. Crump surveyed Coravel Tiowith pleading indignation. "After them tryin'----"

  Gracefully, Coravel Tio waved his cigarette. "Si, _senora_! Let them go.Let them both go. There are larger things, much larger things, awaitingus."

  "But that feller Premble!"

  "Let them both go, senora. We have larger things ahead."

  Mrs. Crump sniffed in uncomprehending disgust; but she gave tacitassent.

  The engine of the car began to whir; the whir became a roaring hum, thena deep vibrant thrumming that lifted through the canon. The car, withits three men, moved away and leaped into speed.

  "Hey!" The voice of Gilbert, who had been reading the new locationnotice, drifted up to them. "Hey! This guy is jumpin' our claim! He'sposted notices in the name o' Mackintavers. What the hell!"

  "Come up here, Gilbert," said Coravel Tio, "and keep quiet. We are tohear some news. Ah, Senor Dorales, have you lunched? We are glad towelcome you."

  Dorales did not reply. He did not move, but upon his lips lingered thatthin, shadowy smile that was like the stamp of a cruel jeer. Gilbertheavily came up and rejoined the others.

  They stood there at the doorway of the shack--Mrs. Crump, Coravel Tio,Gilbert, and Lewis. Facing them stood Abel Dorales; he seemed to bewaiting until the automobile should have gotten away beyond pursuit.Already it was a dot, lessening amid a trail of dust. In the bearing ofAbel Dorales was a commanding air, a deep significance, a sneering senseof power. He was in no hurry to explain.

  The sun beat down in vertical, sickening waves; the heat wassuffocating, insufferable. It filled the canon like an oven. To the leftlay the spent horse, panting, loose-tongued, exhausted, unable even toreach the trickle of water below. No other thing moved within sight.Behind and above rose the long hogback that formed the north wall of thecanon. It shut out from view all that lay beyond, all that lay overtoward the mountains and the larger canon that drew out from themountains to the north.

  The ground seemed to radiate heat in shimmering waves. To one side laythe dry and withered body of the rattler Mrs. Crump had killed--what wasleft by the preying tiny things of the earth. Somewhere among the rockslay that reptilian head, what was left of it. Inconspicuous it was,unseen, dead jaws agape and long fangs glimmering like needles in thehot, sickening sunlight.

  "Yes," said Abel Dorales at last. "Yes. I have some news for you."

  He ignored that offer of luncheon. He ignored the lowering, menacinglooks of Lewis and Gilbert. He ignored the suave Coravel Tio. He fixedlyregarded Mrs. Crump, hatred flaming in his dark eyes and quivering athis nostrils. He had hated her from the depths of his soul ever sincethat day he had jumped her claim over in the Mogollons, that day whenshe had shot him down like a dog.

  There was nothing melodramatic in his bearing. He was grimed with dustand dirt. He was perspiring profusely; his lined and evil face wasstreaming with sweat against its sleek bronze. He had ridden hard, andhe was tired.

  Suddenly he shifted his gaze and looked around, to right and left, atthe shimmering and empty canon. He looked at the farther hill on theother side. He looked up at the long hogback which closed in those fivepersons, shutting out all the rest of the world like a vast door ofrock. He looked up toward the mountain peaks that showed above the headof the canon. Some inward sense seemed to whisper to him a warningagainst eavesdroppers; but all the visible world was glowing withinsufferable heat, and was deserted. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

  "What for ye postin' notices on my lands?" demanded Mrs. Crump. "Huh?How come ye sent Mackintavers off to file the claims at the recordin'office, huh? What ye expect to gain by all that fool play, huh? Speakup, ye mangy dog!"

  Abel Dorales looked at her, and smiled thinly. "One moment," he said.

  Turning, Abel Dorales strode up the canon to where lay his exhaustedhorse. The poor brute made a painful struggle as if to rise; forefeet,neck, and shoulders heaved convulsively, then collapsed again. AbelDorales kicked the horse with contempt. From the saddle he took abattered little yellow suitcase which had been tied there and he startedback.

  At a word from Coravel Tio, the others moved into the slender shadowcast by the north side of the shack, the side that faced uphill to thehogback. There Abel Dorales rejoined them. There he set the batteredlittle suitcase on the ground.

  "I should have given this to Sandy," he said, "but I forgot it. Now,Mrs. Crump, your friend Shea stole this from the ranch of Mackintavers.Here is what he stole."

  With a swift movement he opened the suitcase and dumped out the sevenstone gods. They strewed the ground in grotesque attitudes. One fellupright, grinning stonily as if delighted by the feat. Dorales tossedthe little suitcase away.

  "Ah, yes!" It was Coravel Tio who spoke, unexpectedly. He spoke asthough in recognition. "The gods of the San Marcos! But you are wrong,senor. Our friend Shea did not steal these things. They were stolen by aNavaho, a buck who was hired to steal them because he knew the ranchhouse of Mackintavers very well. He was hired by Thomas Twofork, whocomes from the Cochiti pueblo. These gods were the gods of the SanMarcos, you understand, and they were the gods of Thomas Twofork'sfathers. That Navaho buck was killed in an accident. How Senor Sheaobtained these gods, I do not know."

  Dorales laughed.

  "
It doesn't matter particularly now. Anyway, we'll concede that Sheadidn't steal them, eh? All right. Sandy wanted these gods back, so Ifetched them along. In my hurry to get this property located, I forgotto give them----"

  "Where's Thady Shea?" cried out Mrs. Crump, suddenly. "Where is he?"

  Abel Dorales looked at her, his lips curving in cruel enjoyment.

  "Dead. This location was in his name. I believe that he is withoutheirs; since he is dead, I believe that his location reverts to thegovernment. Whoever is first to file upon it, gets it. You see? Thenotices have been posted. Sandy has gone to file the location--now doyou understand?"

  "Liar!" Mrs. Crump flung the word at him in blind, gasping incredulity."He ain't dead! Thady Shea ain't dead!"

  "Oh, you need not blame me!" said Dorales, and laughed again. "Ifollowed him, yes; but I came too late. I found him in a canon over onthe divide--Beaver Canon."

  "There was a Mexican refugee camped there with his family; asheep-herder. Shea had come and had drunk mescal. He had become drunk,beastly drunk. I am not certain of what took place, becauseunfortunately I arrived too late--but the woman was dead, and Shea hadfallen over the edge of a gully, breaking his neck. He had been shot,also. I think the woman must have shot him--first."

  Under the lash of these slow words, delivered with a frightfulappearance of truth, Mrs. Crump had gone quite livid. A hoarse,inarticulate growl came from her throat. The mortal pallor of a furybeyond all control came upon her; she trembled with sheer passion.

  Then she started forward--but the hand of Coravel Tio gripped into herwrist.