CHAPTER VIII
JIM GALLOWAY'S GAME
As full consciousness of her surroundings returned slowly to her,Virginia Page at first thought that she had been awakened by the aromaof boiling coffee. Then, sitting up, wide awake, she knew that Nortonhad come to the doorway of her separate chamber and had called. Shethrew off her blanket and got up hastily.
It was still dark. She imagined that she had merely dozed and thatNorton was summoning her because Brocky Lane was worse. A dim glowshone through the cave entrance, that flickering, uncertain lighteloquent of a camp-fire. As her hands went swiftly and femininely toher hair, she heard Norton's voice in a laughing remark. Only then sheknew that she had slept three or four hours, that the dawn was near,that it was time for her to return to San Juan.
"Good morning," she said brightly.
Norton, squatting by the fire, frying-pan in hand, turned and answeredher nod; Brocky Lane, flat on his back with his hands clasped behindhis head, a cigarette in his mouth, twisted a little where he lay, hiseyes eager upon his doctor. Virginia came on into the full light,striking the pine-needles from her riding-habit.
"Time to eat and ride," said Norton, turning again to his task. "Baconand coffee and exercise. Have you rested?"
"Perfectly. And Mr. Lane?"
"Me?" said Brocky. "Feeling fine."
Norton gave her a cup of warm water to wash her hands. Then she made asecond, very careful examination of Brocky's wound, cleansing it andadjusting a fresh bandage.
"I want to start in half an hour," said the sheriff. "There'll belight enough then so that we can make time getting down to the horsesand yet not enough light to show us up to a chance early rider downbelow. Then we'll swing off to the west, make a wide bend, ridethrough Las Estrellas and get back into San Juan when we please. Thatis you will; I'll leave you outside of Las Estrellas, showing you theway. And, while we eat, I am going to tell you something."
"About Galloway?" she asked quickly. "Explaining what you meant byGalloway's hang-out?"
"Yes. And more than that."
For a little she stood, looking at him very gravely. Then she spoke inutter frankness.
"Mr. Norton, I think that I can see your position; you were socircumstanced through Mr. Lane's being hurt that you had to bringeither Dr. Patten or me here. You decided it would be wiser to bringme. There is something of a compliment in that, isn't there?"
"You don't know Caleb Patten yet!" growled Brocky a bit savagely.
"Already it seems to me," she went on, "that you have a pretty hard rowto hoe. It is evident that you have discovered a sort of thieves'headquarters here; that, for your own reasons, you don't want it knownthat you have found it. To say that I am not curious about it allwould be talking nonsense, of course. And yet I can assure you that Ihold you under no obligation whatever to do any explaining. You arethe sheriff and your job is to get results, not to be polite to theladies."
But Norton shook his head.
"You know what you know," he said seriously. "I think that if you knowa little more you will more readily understand why we must insist onkeeping our mouths shut . . . all of us."
"In that case," returned the girl, "and before you boil that coffeeinto any more hopelessly black a concoction than it already is, I amready to drink mine and listen. Coffee, Mr. Lane?"
"Had mine, thanks," answered Brocky. "Spin the yarn, Rod."
Norton put down his frying-pan, the bacon brown and crisp, and rose tohis feet.
"Will you come this way a moment, Miss Page?" he asked. "To beginwith, seeing is believing."
She followed him as she had, last night, back into the cave in whichshe had slept. But Norton did not stop here. He went on, Virginiastill following him, came to that other hole in the rock wall which shehad noted by the lantern light.
"In here," he said. "Just look."
He swept a match across his thigh, holding it up for her. She came tohis side and looked in. First she saw a number of small boxes,innocent appearing affairs which suggested soda-crackers. Beyond themwas something covered with a blanket; Norton stepped by her and jerkedthe covering aside. Startled, puzzled by what she saw, she looked tohim wonderingly. Placed neatly, lying side by side, their metalsurfaces winking back at the light of Norton's match, were a number ofrifles. A score of them, fifty, perhaps.
"It looks like a young revolution!" she cried, her gaze held, her eyesfascinated by the unexpected.
"You've seen about everything now," he told her, the red ember of aburnt-out match dropping to the floor. "Those boxes containcartridges. Now let's go back to Brocky."
"But they'll see that you have been here. . . ."
"I'll come back in a minute with the lantern; I want a further chanceto look things over. Then I'll put the blanket back and see that noteven that charred match gives us away. And we'd better be eating andgetting started."
With a steaming tin of black coffee before her, a brown piece of baconbetween her fingers, she forgot to eat or drink while she listened toNorton's story. At the beginning it seemed incredible; then, herthoughts sweeping back over the experiences of these last twenty-fourhours, her eyes having before them the picture of a sheriff, grim-facedand determined, a wounded man lying just beyond the fire, the rough,rudely arched walls and ceiling of a cave man's dwelling about her, shedeemed that what Norton knew and suspected was but the thing to beexpected.
"Jim Galloway is a big man," the sheriff said thoughtfully. "A verybig man in his way. My father was after him for a long time; I havebeen after him ever since my father's death. But it is only recentlythat I have come to appreciate Jim Galloway's caliber. That's why Icould never get him with the goods on; I have been looking for him inthe wrong places.
"I estimated that he was making money with the Casa Blanca and asimilar house which he operates in Pozo; I thought that his entire gamelay in such layouts and a bit of business now and then like the robbingof the Las Palmas man. But now I know that most of these lesser jobsare not even Galloway's affair, that he lets some of his crowd like theKid or Antone or Moraga put them across and keep the spoils, oftenenough. In a word, while I've been looking for Jim Galloway in thebrush he has been doing his stunt in the big timber! And now. . . ."The look in Norton's eyes suggested that he had forgotten the girl towhom he was talking. "And now I have picked up his trail!"
"And that's something," interposed Brocky Lane, a flash of fire in hisown eyes. "Considering that no man ever knew better than Jim Gallowayhow to cover tracks."
"You see," continued Norton, "Jim Galloway's bigness consists verylargely of these two things: he knows how to keep his hands off of thelittle jobs, and he knows how to hold men to him. Bisbee, of LasPalmas, goes down in the Casa Blanca; his money, perhaps a thousanddollars, finds its way into the pockets of Kid Rickard, Antone, andmaybe another two or three men. Jim Galloway sees what goes on anddoes no petty haggling over the spoils; he gets a strangle-hold on themen who do the job; it costs him nothing but another lie or so, and hehas them where he can count on them later on when he needs such men.Further, if they are arrested, Jim Galloway and Galloway's money cometo the front; they are defended in court by the best lawyers to be had,men are bribed and they go free. As a result of such labors onGalloway's part I'd say at a rough guess that there are from a dozen tofifty men in the county right now who are his men, body and soul.
"With a gang like that at his back, a man of Galloway's type has grownpretty strong. Strong enough to plan . . . yes, and by the Lord, carryout! . . . the kind of game he's playing right now.
"A half-breed took sick and died a short time ago, a man whom I'd neverset my eyes on particularly. It happened that he was a superstitiousdevil and that he was a second or third cousin of Ignacio Chavez. Hewas quite positive that unless the bells rang properly for him he wouldgo to hell the shortest way. So he sent for Ignacio and wound up bytalking a good deal. Ignacio passed the word on to me. And that wasthe first inkling I had of
Galloway's real game. In a word, this iswhat it is:
"He plans on one big stroke and then a long rest and quiet enjoyment ofthe proceeds. You have seen the rifles; he'll arm a crowd of his bestmen . . . or his worst, as you please . . . swoop down on San Juan, robthe bank, shooting down just as many men as happen to be in the way,rush in automobiles to Pozo and Kepple's Town, stick up the banksthere, levy on the Las Palmas mines, and then steer straight to theborder. And, if all worked according to schedule, the papers acrossthe country would record the most daring raid across the border yet,blaming the whole affair on a detachment of Gringo-hating Mexicanbandits and revolutionists."
Virginia stared at him, half incredulously. But the look in Norton'seyes, the same look in Brocky Lane's, assured her.
"Why do you wait then?" she asked sharply. "If you know all this, whydon't you arrest the man and his accomplices now? Before it is toolate?"
"And have the whole country laugh at me? Where's my evidence? Justthe word of a dead Indian, repeated by another Indian, and a few rifleshid in the mountains? Even if we proved the rifles were Galloway's,and I don't believe we could, how would we set about proving hisintention? No; I've talked it all over with the district attorney andwe can't move yet. We've got our chance at last; the chance to watchand get Jim Galloway with the goods on. But we've got to wait until heis just ready to strike. And then we are going to put a stop tolawlessness in San Juan once and for all."
"But," she objected breathlessly, "if he should strike before you areready?"
"It is our one business in life that he doesn't do it. We know what heis up to; we have found this hiding-place; we shall keep an eye on itnight and day. He doesn't know that we have been here; no one knowsbut ourselves. You see now, Miss Page, why I couldn't bring Pattenhere? Patten talks too much and Galloway knows every thought inPatten's mind. And you understand how important it is for you toforget that you have been here?"
She sat silent, staring into the embers of the dying fire.
"The thing which I can't understand," she said presently, "is that ifJim Galloway is the 'big man' that you say he is he should do as muchtalking as he must have done; that he should have told his plans tosuch a man as the Indian who told them to Ignacio Chavez."
"But he didn't tell all of this," Norton informed her. "The Indiandied without guessing what I have told you. He merely knew that therifles were here because Galloway had employed him to bring them andbecause he was the man who told Galloway of this hiding-place. Hebelieved that Galloway's whole scheme was to smuggle a lot of arms andammunition south and across the border, selling to the Mexicans. Butfrom what little he could tell Chavez and from what we found out forourselves, the whole play became pretty obvious. No, Galloway hasn'tbeen talking and he has been playing as safe as a man can upon suchbusiness as this. His luck was against him, that's all, when theIndian died and insisted on being rung out by the San Juan bells.There's always that little element of chance in any business,legitimate or otherwise. . . . And now, if you'll finish yourbreakfast I'll show you a view you'll never forget and then we'll hitthe trail."
"But, Mr. Lane," she asked, "you don't intend to leave him here allalone? He will get well with the proper attention; but be must havethat."
"Within another hour or so," Norton told her, "Tom Cutter will be backwith one of Brocky's cowboys. They'll move Lane into a canon on theother side of the mountain. Oh, I know he oughtn't to be moved, butwhat else can we do? Besides, Brocky insists on it. Then they'llarrange to take care of him; if necessary you'll come out againto-morrow night?"
"Of course," she said. She went to Brocky and held out her hand tohim. "I understand now, I think, why you would refuse to die, nomatter how badly you were hurt, until you had helped Mr. Norton finishthe work you have set your hands to. It's an honor, Mr. Lane, to havea patient like you."
Whereupon Brocky Lane grew promptly crimson and tongue-tied.
"And now the view, Mr. Norton, and I am ready to go."
He led the way to the outer ledge from which last night they hadentered the cave.
"In daylight you can see half round the world from here," he said asthey stood with their backs to the rock. "Now you can get an idea ofwhat it's like."
Below her was the chasm formed by these cliffs standing sheer andfronting other tall cliffs looming blackly, the stars beginning to fadein the sky above them. Norton pushed a stone outward with his boot;she heard it strike, rebound, strike again . . . and then there wassilence; when the falling stone reached the bottom no sound came backto tell her how far it had dropped.
Turning a little to look southward, she saw the cliffs standing fartherand farther back on each side so that the eye might travel between themand out over the lower slopes and the distant stretches of level landwhich, more now than ever, seemed a great limitless sea. The starswere paling rapidly; the first glint of the new day was in the air, theworld lay shadowy and silent and lifeless, softened in the seeming,but, as in the daytime, slumbrous under an atmosphere of broodingmystery.
"When you told me last night . . . when you put your rope around me andsaid that I might fall half a dozen feet. . . ."
"Had we fallen it would have been a hundred feet, many a time," he saidquietly. "But I knew we wouldn't fall. And," looking into her facewith an expression in his eyes which the shadows hid, "I shouldn't havesought to minimize the danger to you had I known you as well as I thinkI know you now."
"Thank you," she said lightly. But she was conscious of a warmpleasurable glow throughout her entire being. It was good to live lifein the open, it was good to stand upon the cliff tops with a man likeRoderick Norton, it was good to have such a man speak thus.
Five minutes later they were making their way down the cliffs towardthe horses.
The Bells of San Juan Page 9
