With Hoops of Steel

by Florence Finch Kelly

  CHAPTER XXII

  A bullet tore through the sleeve of Mead's coat, passing but a fewinches from the head of the unconscious child. Another sang over hisleft shoulder, scorching his coat. His face, flushed with running,went white and grim with sudden passion, his lips closed in a narrow,straight line, and the yellow flame blazed in his wide and brillianteyes. He shifted the child more to the left and turned sidewise towardhis assailant, shielding the little one with his body. Antone Colorow,shouting curses and vile names, came dashing on, revolver in hand, totry again at closer quarters. Mead kept on, running sidewise, his setwhite face turned over his shoulder and his flashing eyes fixed onAntone's revolver hand. They were within a score of paces of eachother when Mead suddenly jumped to one side and the bullet that wasmeant for his head whistled harmlessly through the air. "Three!" hethought, his eyes fixed steadily on Antone's right hand, as he stilladvanced toward the angry man. For he had noticed that the Mexicanwore no cartridge belt. Again he sprang to one side as he saw Antone'sfinger stiffen upon the trigger, and the ball rattled through thebushes behind him. "Four!" he thought, veering toward the west. TheMexican turned his horse to follow, and Mead, with eyes fixed on thetrigger, and noting, too, the slant of the barrel, knew that he had noneed to dodge the next bullet. It went wild and tore up the groundsome feet away. "Only one more!" he thought, as he halted with the sunat his back and shining straight in the Mexican's face. A sudden,quick leap and a loud yell startled Antone's horse, it jerkedbackward, and the last bullet went singing harmlessly through the air.

  Antone's voice shot up into a falsetto, and shrieking vile curses hethrew the empty revolver over his shoulder and leaped to the ground.Mead's watchful eye caught the gleam of a steel blade in the sunlight.He dropped his burden upon the ground, in the shade of a clump ofgreasewood, and sprang to one side. He caught Antone's wrist, as theknife made its downward turn, and held that hand high in the air for amoment while he looked into the Mexican's eyes. They shone with theangry glare of a wild beast.

  "Antone," he said, "I have found the lost child. It is still alive,and it may live if I can get it to the doctor at once. Will you let mego and finish this quarrel afterward?"

  The Mexican's only answer was a volley of curses. This man had brokenhis wrists and made useless that boasted skill with the lasso whichhad been the one pride of his life. For weeks and months anger andhatred and the determination to have revenge had blazed in his heart,and at sight of his enemy everything else went from his mind. He toohad been ranging the hills since early morning searching for the boy,but so fierce was his rage that he could have jumped upon the littleform and trampled its life out, if by so doing he could have killedMead with a double death.

  Antone's wrists were stiff and his arms had not recovered their fullstrength, so that Mead had no difficulty in holding the dagger aloft.He waited a moment to see if some glimmer of human feeling would notstrike through the man's rage. Suddenly Antone began kicking hisshins, and Mead understood that the sooner the struggle began thesooner it would be ended. He strove warily, with the coolness of amasterful determination, with a quick eye, a quick hand, and a quickbrain. The Mexican fought with the insensate rage of an angered beast.They struggled first for the possession of the knife. Antone succeededin releasing his wrist and sprang backward out of Mead's reach. With alunge straight at his enemy's heart he came forward again, but Meadsprang quickly to one side and the Mexican barely saved himself fromsprawling headlong on the ground. He faced about, his featuresdistorted with anger, and, as he dashed forward, Mead caught his wristagain. There was a short, sharp struggle, and Mead sent the knifewhirling down the hillside.

  Then they closed in a hand to hand struggle. Antone bent his head andsent his teeth deep into Mead's arm. Into the flesh they sank and metand with a slipping sound tore the solid muscle from its bed. Thenthere flamed in Emerson Mead's heart that wild, white rage thatmettles the nerves and steels the muscles of him who suffers thatindignity. He felt the strength of a giant in his arms as he grippedthe Mexican by both shoulders. In another minute Antone Colorow wasflat upon the ground and Emerson Mead was sitting on his chest.

  "You hound!" Mead exclaimed, "I ought to kill you, and by the livingGod, I would if I could do it decently! But I'm no Greaser, to uselariats and knives and boot-heels, and so you get off this time, youbeast! If I had a rope," he went on, "I'd tie you here!"

  With his right hand he grasped Antone's two wrists while he thrust hisleft into his pockets in search of something with which he could bindthe fallen man. From the side pocket of his coat he drew a shiny,snaky black thing, and a satisfied "ah!" broke from his lips as he sawthe Chinaman's queue, which Nick Ellhorn had forgotten, and which hehad put into that pocket two weeks before.

  As he held it in his hands Marguerite Delarue came running over thehill. Her sunbonnet hung by its strings around her neck, her hair hadcome down and was streaming over her shoulders, her dress hung in ragsand tatters, and she was panting and almost breathless. She hadhurried on behind Mead as rapidly as she could walk, until she heardthe first pistol shot. Then, fearful of trouble, she had run as fastas possible, stopping at nothing, her anxiety giving speed to her feetand endurance to her muscles.

  The look of savage triumph on Mead's face made her shrink back for aninstant, awed and frightened. But her comprehension quickly took inwhat had happened and her heart rose in sympathetic exultation.

  "You are just in time," said Mead, "and I'm mighty glad. I'll have toask you to sit on this man's chest and hold him down while I tie himfast to that mesquite."

  Marguerite sat down on the Mexican's breast while Mead tied his wriststightly together and then began fastening them to the stocky stem ofthe bush beside which he had fallen. Antone struggled and tried tothrow her off, and Mead said:

  "I think, Miss Delarue, you'd better put your thumbs on his windpipeand press a little, just to keep him from fighting too hard. We've gotno time to waste on him."

  Marguerite gasped and hesitated, but her eye fell on little Paul'sunconscious figure, and she did as he asked her.

  "There," said Mead. "Now get up and jump quickly away."

  The prostrate Mexican struggled and rolled about, but he could notrise. Marguerite ran to the child and with her ear to his breast shecalled to Mead.

  "His heart is beating! He is still alive!"

  Mead caught Antone's horse, and with Marguerite behind him and thechild on one arm started off on the gallop. A long, straggling line ofsearchers stretched across the mesa, the nearest at least four milesaway. As Mead came nearer he dropped the bridle on the horse's neckand waved his hat and shouted again and again. At last he attractedthe attention of the nearest ones, and two or three came runningtoward him. "Water! Water!" he called, at the top of his voice. Theyunderstood, and one ran back to the nearest horseman, who galloped offto a group of people still farther away.

  Almost instantly the great throng, like a huge organism, animated byone thought, started off across the mesa toward the galloping horse,every atom in it moved by the single purpose to reach at once thenew-found babe. Two horses in front of the hastening multitude ran attheir topmost speed and distanced all the others. One carried PierreDelarue and the other Doctor Long, and behind them came horsemen,carts, carriages and people on foot, all rushing to the one point.

  The physician administered such restoratives as he had with him andbrought the boy back to consciousness. Then, in the shade of a canopyphaeton, he carried the child home in his arms, while Marguerite andher father and Emerson Mead followed in another carriage, and all thecrowd came pouring along after them.

  But there were four men who stayed behind. Joe Davis and John Danielsand two others, all in perfect accord and friendliness, went back tofind Antone Colorow. They had listened to Mead's hastily told story ofhow Antone had attacked and delayed him. Daniels and Davis had lookedat each other with a single significant glance and the one remark,"We'd better attend to him!" And then they had taken the other two menand started back.


  They found Antone Colorow still struggling, rolling and kicking on theground. His lips were stained with the blood his own teeth had drawn,and his red beard was flecked with foam. They untied him, and hesprang to his feet and would have darted away, intent on his onepurpose to kill the enemy who had escaped his vengeance, had not quickhands seized him. They tied his arms behind him and set him astridehis own horse, and then, surrounding him, with their revolvers drawn,they rode away to the southwest, leaving Las Plumas far to theirright. On to the river bottom they went, and into a _bosque_ where thecottonwoods and the sycamores grew thickly and the willow underbrushwas dense.

  Long afterward a river ranchman, hunting a lost cow, penetrated the_bosque_ and started back in sudden fright from a dangling, decayingbody that hung from a sycamore limb.

  Pierre Delarue insisted that Emerson Mead should come into his housefor some wine and wait until they should know the worst or the bestconcerning little Paul. He sat alone in the room where first he hadseen Marguerite, his anxiety about the child driven quite out of hismind by the thought that the long hours alone with her, out on thehills, their hearts and minds united in a common purpose, had come toan end, that she was soon to be another man's wife, and that he wouldnever see her again. After a time the door opened and she came towardhim, smiling gladly. The color had come back to her cheeks and hereyes were bright, though there were still dark rings around them, andher face told of the weariness her brain had not yet recognized. Soabsorbed had she been in giving the physician assistance and carryingout his directions that she had not thought of her appearance. Herwhite dress, which yesterday had been fresh and dainty, was in tattersand bedraggled strings, and her hair hung down her back in adisheveled mass. But she came shining down upon Mead's dark thoughts,fresh and beautiful and glorious beyond compare. He did not rememberrising, but presently he knew that he was on his feet and that she wasstanding in front of him. He did not even hear her say, "Doctor Longsays my little Bye-Bye will live and that there will probably be noserious results."

  Then she saw that he was trembling from head to foot, shaking as dothe leaves of a cottonwood tree in a west wind, and she drew back inalarm, looking at him anxiously.

  "What is the--" she began, but the look in his eyes stopped her tongueand held her gaze, while she felt her breath come hard and her heartbeat like a triphammer. For an instant there was silence. ThenMarguerite heard in a whisper so soft that it barely reached her ears,"I love you! I love you!" It was the loosing of the floods, and atonce their arms were about each other. But in a second he rememberedthat she was to be another man's wife, and the thought came over himlike the drawing down of the black cap over the head of a condemnedman. With a fierce girding of his will he put both his hands upon hershoulders and drew back.

  "I forgot! Forgive me!" The words came in a groan from his lips. "Iforgot you're going to be his wife!"

  "Whose?" said Marguerite, stepping back. For the instant she hadforgotten there was any other man in the world.

  "Why, Wellesly's!"

  "Indeed, I am not!" That one second in Mead's embrace had settledMarguerite's long-vexed problem, and she felt her mind grow full ofsudden wonder that it had ever troubled her. "He wanted me to marryhim, but I'm not going to do it!"

  Again their arms were about each other, their lips met, and her headwas pillowed on his shoulder. Then he remembered the fate that washanging over him, and he said bitterly:

  "I've no right to ask you to be my wife, for in another week I'llprobably be convicted of murder and sentenced to be hung, or sent tothe penitentiary for life."

  From the yard came the sound of Pierre Delarue's voice speaking to thecrowd. She took Mead's hands in hers and swung a little away from him,looking into his face.

  "I know that you didn't kill Will Whittaker!"

  "How do you know it?" he answered, looking at her in loving surprise.

  "Because he was shot in the back!"

  She felt herself swept into the sudden storm of a masterful embrace,and with soft laughter yielded to his rapturous caresses. "And allthis time," came to her ear in a whisper, "I've cared about it onlybecause I thought you would believe me guilty even if I was cleared!

  "But I've no proof of my innocence," he added presently, "and I can'task your father's consent, or allow your name to be mentioned withmine in the town's gossip until my own is clear. I've no right even toask you for another kiss until--"

  She closed his lips with the kiss he would not ask for, and said:

  "I would just as lief go out there now and say to all that crowd thatI love you and know that you are innocent--"

  "No, no!" he broke in upon her passionate protestation. "No one shallcouple your name with mine and pity you while they are doing it! Thepenitentiary may be my fate, for the rest of my life, but its shadowshall not touch yours. If I can clear myself of this charge I willcome and ask you to be my wife, and openly ask your father's consent.If I can't--" He turned and looked out of the window, but instead ofthe trees and flowers that were there, he saw a big, grim buildingwith a high stone wall all around it and armed guards on the bastions.Outside they heard the crowd calling for him. She understood hisfeeling, and taking his face between her palms she kissed his lips,whispering, "We will wait," and hurried from the room.

  The crowd massed itself around the house, squatting on the sidewalk,perching on the fence, and filling the waiting vehicles, until Pierrecame out and announced that the physician said little Paul wouldrecover and would probably be none the worse for his experience.Everybody shouted "hurrah!" and somebody yelled, "three cheers forFrenchy!" The cheers were given, and Pierre stepped out on thesidewalk and began thanking them all for the kindness and sympathythey had shown and for their willing efforts to help him in histrouble. Then he launched into rhetorical praises of the country, theclimate and the community, and from these turned to enthusiasticcommendation of the man who had restored to him his lost child."Among all the brave and noble men of this favored region," heexclaimed, "there is none braver, nobler, greater-hearted, morechivalrous, than he who has this day proved himself worthy of all ourpraises--Emerson Mead!" The crowd cheered loudly and called for Mead.Somebody shouted, "Three cheers for Emerson!" and the wholeassemblage, Pierre leading, waved their hats and cheered again andagain.

  Then there arose a general cry for "Emerson Mead! Emerson Mead!""Where is Emerson!" "Bring him out, Frenchy!" and Delarue rushed backinto the house to find him. When Pierre entered the room which hisdaughter had just left it occurred to him, vaguely, that Mead lookedunusually proud and happy, but as he himself, also, felt happy andproud, and filled with a genial glow over the success of his burst oforatory, it seemed quite proper that every one else should also beelated. So he thought nothing of it and hurried Mead out to thewaiting crowd, where everybody, Democrats and Republicans alike,gathered about him and shook hands and made terse, complimentaryremarks, until Jim Halliday presently took him away to his formerquarters.

  The crowd trailed off down Main street, and Judge Harlin and ColonelWhittaker stood treat together for the entire company, first at theWhite Horse and then at the Palmleaf saloon. The whistle of the trainfrom the south, two hours late, broke in upon all this friendlinesswith a harsh reminder. Men suddenly recalled the fact that the mailfrom the north had come in long ago and had not brought the courtorder for which they had been waiting. The issues which had set thetown at gun muzzles the day before again asserted themselves, andgradually the two factions began to mass, each on its own side of thestreet. In the midst of this the clerk of the court came out of thepost-office with the missing order, which had gone astray in the mailsand had just come in on the train from El Paso. Neither Joe Davis norJohn Daniels could be found, and it was an hour later when they rodetogether into the town, coming back from the hanging of AntoneColorow.

  Daniels read the official paper through and handed it to Davis. "Well,Joe," he said, "the court says you are sheriff now, and I reckonthere's no goin' back of that. I hope the office
will bring you betterluck than it has me. Let's have a drink."