Frank Merriwell's Son; Or, A Chip Off the Old Block
Page 6
CHAPTER VI.
THE FACE IN THE WATCH.
At lunch Carson was strangely silent and abstracted. The raillery of hisfriends failed to awaken him into anything like liveliness. He smiled abit at their jokes and chaffing, but any one could see those smiles wereforced.
"I should say it was high time you got away from the wild and woollyWest!" cried Jack Diamond. "I've heard that loneliness on the ocean orthe plains makes a man gloomy, and, by Jove! I believe it's true."
"Cowboys and cattlemen are not gloomy," returned Carson. "As a rule,they're a jovial, good-natured set, who thoroughly enjoy a joke or a bitof humor. It's not loneliness on the plains that affects me, if there'sanything the matter with me."
"Anything the matter with you?" rumbled Browning. "Why, in the old daysyou were always light-hearted. This is the first time I've ever seen adepressed mug on you."
"Let me alone, and I presume I'll come out of it," said the youngWesterner. "I'm sorry if I'm casting a shadow on an otherwise happygathering. I didn't mean to."
"Oh, you're all right, Carson. I should say your liver might be out ofkilter. You need something to stir it up."
"If there's anything that will stir up a man's liver more than ahundred-mile jaunt on horseback, I'd like to know what it is. I've beentaking plenty such jaunts this spring. Although I haven't been at theranch for a month, I was there when the snow came off, and rode therange with the rest of the boys to find out how our cows had comethrough the winter."
"Don't suppose you've been troubled any more by cattle thieves since thedemise of that fake Laramie Dave?" questioned Merriwell.
"No, we put an end to the business in our parts. We had you to thank forit. You were the one who discovered how our brand of the B. S. was beingturned into the Flying Dollars brand. You stopped cattle stealing in theBig Sandy region."
"Things were hot around there for a while, weren't they, Berlin?"laughed Frank.
"I haven't heard about this," said Diamond. "What's the story?"
Carson looked disturbed.
"I don't like to tell it," he confessed. "Still, I don't suppose Frankwould give himself proper credit if he should tell you. Did you everhear of Laramie Dave, the rustler?"
"My dear fellow, I've been living on the other side of the pond so longthat I haven't heard of anything taking place out in your part of thiscountry. Who was this Laramie Dave?"
"The worst rustler known in recent years. He carried on most of hisoperations on the big ranches to the north of us. He operatedextensively in Wyoming and in Montana. At last the cattlemen becameexasperated and made things hot for him up there. Next we knew LaramieDave was said to be getting in his work in Colorado. We lost cattleright along on the Big Sandy, and the Bar S people had the same trouble.The Flying Dollars people also made a similar complaint. The FlyingDollars Ranch was owned by Colonel King.
"There was an old feud between my foreman and the foreman of the FlyingDollars. I was with Merry in Denver when I received word that therustlers were hitting us hard, and I struck out for the Big Sandy, Frankaccompanying me. We found our fences were being cut everywhere, whichpermitted our cattle to stray or to be driven off. We rode over ourranch, took a look at the Bar S cattle, and visited the Flying Dollars.
"The night following our visit to the Flying Dollars Merry sat upscrawling on a piece of paper in an aimless way, while I went to bed. Hewoke me from a sound sleep by uttering an exclamation of triumph. Ithink I growled at him, but he made me get up, and there on the paper hehad drawn the different brands of the three ranches, the Bar S, the BigSandy, and the Flying Dollars. He had combined all three brands intoone. He showed how either the Bar S or the B. S. could be turned intothe Flying Dollars by having the latter brand burned over them. Butevery one in those parts respected Colonel King. No one had ever dreamedthat he was concerned in the rustling. Nevertheless, Merry's detectivework put us on the right track, and in the end we learned beyondquestion that King was stealing and rebranding our cattle. Hisassertions that he was losing cows were lies.
"The climax came when a posse of officers and detectives corneredLaramie Dave, and some lead was pumped into him. Colonel King was agray-haired, respectable-looking man, while Laramie Dave wore long blackhair and a drooping mustache. But Laramie Dave's mustache was false, andhis long black hair was a wig which covered the white hair of ColonelKing. King was the real cattle thief. He was not, however, the realLaramie Dave, who was still up in Wyoming somewhere. He had simply madehimself up to look like Laramie Dave, in order that the genuine rustlermight get credit for the cattle stealing.
"That's the whole story."
"Sounds like a romance or a bit of fiction," observed Diamond. "Don'tsuppose such business could be carried on in the West at the presenttime."
"We put an end to it as far as Colorado is concerned," nodded Carson."Merry deserves the credit for rounding up the last of our big cowthieves."
"Let me see," murmured Merriwell, "Colonel King had a daughter, didn'the? What became of her, Berlin?"
Carson shook his head.
"No one knows," he replied. "She disappeared after her father's death."
After lunch they again sat on the veranda and chatted a while. FinallyFrank, Bruce, and Jack went over to Farnham Hall, to attend to theirduties there.
"Show Berlin over the grounds, Hodge," said Merry, as he was leaving."I'll take him through the buildings myself later on."
Hodge and Carson strolled about that afternoon, first visiting thepicnic grove and from thence turning toward the lake and the boathouse.At the boathouse they rested a while, for the spot was cool andinviting.
"I'd like a camera," said Carson. "Jingoes, Bart, a fellow could getsome great views here! The scenery is soothing. That's the word for it,soothing. It gives me a feeling of rest."
"Then take your time and rest as much as you like," said Bart. "Sincecoming here I've had my first opportunity in months to rest. I neverfancied there was a lazy streak in me, but I'm getting lazier andlazier every day. I'm afraid it would spoil me to hang around here long.I wouldn't have any relish for Arizona alkali or Mexican dust andsunshine."
They sat in one of the boats that drifted beside the boathouse float,Carson dabbling his fingers in the water.
"It is a lazy spot," he murmured. "I should think Merriwell's boys wouldget the tired feeling."
"Oh, some of them do," smiled Hodge; "but Frank won't let them lollaround long enough for it to become chronic. He keeps them up anddoing."
After they had been there nearly an hour, Bart felt for his watch andfound he had left it at the boathouse.
"What time is it, Carson?" he asked.
The young Westerner drew forth a hunting-case watch and opened it.
"Nearly three," he said. Then he sat staring at the watch.
But Bart observed it was not the face of the watch at which hiscompanion was gazing with a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes. Leaningforward a bit, Hodge discovered that on the reverse side of the openfront case there was a pictured face--that of a girl.
Finally, with a faint sigh, Carson closed the watch and slipped it intohis pocket.
"You and Frank are very fortunate, very happy, Bart," he said. Andagain began dabbling in the water with his fingers.
"I know your secret now," thought Bart. "There's a girl behind it. ByJove! Berlin, old man, you're hard hit."