by Grey, Zane
"I think they must have been captured by Black Dick's outfit and are being held."
"My God! And--and where is Randolph, the archaeologist? They said he was here."
Janey managed a convincing moan. "There was a Mr. Randolph, a wonderful man, but now he's--he's gone, and there's nobody but this vicious desperado left."
Bert turned white. "You mean "Hush!" Janey almost screamed. "Don't remind me!"
All this time Randolph had been standing near gazing at them and absorbing the fantastic dialogue. He had assumed a most ferocious aspect; and Janey, after a second glance, thought it was genuine. Then, the Indian guide who had brought the Durlands, appeared riding through the cedars. Randolph strode to intercept him and spoke some Indian words in very loud and authoritative tones. The rider wheeled his horse and disappeared the way he had come.
"Look!" whispered Janey. "I told you. He's driven off your guide."
"Janey, I'll beat it and fetch a horse back to save you," whispered Bert, breathless with the excitement of the idea, and he made for his horse.
"Bertrand! Don't leave me!" screamed Mrs. Durland, who had been listening, pale and mute up to this minute.
Randolph also spotted Durland, and vigorously called him to come back. But Bert only went the faster. Whereupon Randolph pulled his gun and fired in the air. Bang! Bang!
"Come hyar," roared Randolph, "or I'll make a sieve out of you!"
Mrs. Durland gave a loud squawk and promptly fainted. Bert ran back, very wobbly and livid.
"D-don't kill me--Mr. Dick," he implored. Plain it was the two shots had brought him realization.
"All right then, but no monkey business," growled Randolph, flipping up the gun and returning it to his belt. "You better look after your mother. I reckon being strong-headed doesn't run in the family."
Whereupon Randolph strode toward Janey. She saw him coming and went in the opposite direction. Randolph caught up with her at the corner of the wall.
"Something of a mess, isn't it?" he said, quietly, as he detained her.
Janey sat down upon a flat rock and fastened solemn eyes upon him. There did not seem to be need of further pretense, for she was really distressed, yet she not only welcomed the facts of the case but also meant to keep on accentuating them.
"Phillip, you have ruined me," she said, tragically.
"Oh, Janey, it can't be as bad as all that," he protested.
"Why didn't you acknowledge me as your wife?" she asked.
"My God! I guess I just didn't think about it. Durland asked me if I was married. And I said, 'Certainly not.' He suspected, of course, and I was fool enough to fall into his trap."
"Bert knows many of my friends. He will talk."
"But he said you were engaged to marry him!" ejaculated Randolph.
"Nonsense! I never was. How could you believe it?"
"I'm afraid I could believe almost anything of you," he returned, in bitter doubt.
"That has been evident all along," she replied, aloof and cold. "But it does not mitigate your offense... It might be possible to keep Bert from talking. But not Mrs. Durland. She's an old gossip. This little escapade of ours will kill her ambition to see me Bert's wife. She will get it through her thick head that it always was impossible. And she'll take her vindictiveness out on me. She'll ruin my reputation."
"How can she?" asked Randolph, miserably. "I thought modern girls didn't have reputations to lose."
"That's an hallucination of yours and my father's. Granted a certain freedom and license of modern life, it's true all the same that there are still limits. In her eyes, we've transgressed the most vital one."
"Not you, Janey. I'm the one to blame."
"That'll do me a lot of good, I don't think," rejoined Janey, dismally.
"But maybe we can carry out this idea of me being Black Dick. He's well known on the reservation. Travels round with a half-breed Piute. They've been known to hold up tourists. Perhaps I can carry the bluff through."
"You can try, surely. But in my opinion it's a forlorn hope. Besides the cowboys will trail us. You heard what Mrs. Durland said. The cowboys evidently changed their plans."
"Your father--er--or something may put them off the track," said Randolph, lamely.
"Father! Why, he'll send the cowboys after me," exclaimed Janey. "I declare I don't know where your wits are."
"If I ever had any they vanished when you appeared on my horizon. So did my peace! And now, I may add, my character, too, is gone."
"Nonsense! What is disgrace nowadays to a man?" retorted Janey, with supreme contempt. "You ran off with a girl!... It'll never hurt you. It'd make you more attractive--after I divorce you!"
"Divorce me?" echoed Randolph, feebly.
"Certainly. You'll have to marry me, at least, to make this stunt of yours halfway decent. Then I'll get a divorce."
"But if the Black Dick bluff should go over?" he asked, hopefully.
"Fine for the Durlands," replied Janey. "But I was thinking of the cowboys and the Bennets after the Durlands go. We can't fool those sharp-eyed Westerners. However, they may hang you. And I suppose that would save my reputation, if not the notoriety."
"Hang me! I wish to God they'd come and do it," returned Randolph. "I'm surely at the end of a rope right now."
"No such luck!" sighed Janey. "You may come out of it scot free. The woman pays."
"I--I'm most desperately sorry," said Randolph, wringing his hands. "I'd like to have--somebody--here to choke... But it can't be so bad. We'll fool or muzzle these Durlands. As for the Westerners--well, they're not so free at gossip and Arizona is a long way from New York. You will--"
"Phillip, don't fool yourself," interposed Janey. "You've ruined me irretrievably."
Janey wished to drive this point home. She appeared to be having fair success, for he swore under his breath, and sitting down he covered his face with his hands.
"You're a fine brave kidnaper and desperado," said Janey. "Don't let the Durlands see you look like that."
He took no heed of her banter. "I've ruined you--and--and what am I?... When Elliot's word reaches headquarters I'll be done for."
"Well, suppose you are fired. You can go on your own. Wouldn't it be better for you to discover Beckyshibeta now than when you were employed by the government?"
"You talk like a child," he replied, wearily.
"Why?" inquired Janey, in lofty surprise. "I think I'm pretty gracious, considering."
"What do I care about Beckyshibeta?" he burst out, with sullen passion. "When you step out of my life there will be nothing left."
"That is sad--if true," she returned, with proper pity and constraint. "But you have only yourself to blame."
"Bah!"
"I respected you once--liked you," went on Janey, in merciless sweetness. "Now you have made me--hate you."
"I could expect nothing else," he said, lifting his head with dignity. "I am not asking your pity--or even your forgiveness."
"Oh, as to that, of course I could never forgive. One thing you've done, an angel herself could not forgive--though I don't quite fit into that category."
"Not quite," he responded, dryly, and stood up, hard and stern. "But what's to be done? We're up against these confounded friends of yours."
"It'll be best to keep them here," replied Janey. "Until something turns up. Carry on the Black Dick bluff. Let's see what an actor you can be."
"I'm no actor. I couldn't deceive a child."
"You deceived me," protested Janey. "I imagined you gentle, kind--the very opposite to what you are. Be natural now. Be a brute to me, like you were. I'll play up to it. And make these Durlands pay for butting in on our--what shall I call it?--our canyon paradise... Be a monster to Mrs. Durland, and scare the everlasting daylights out of that fortune-hunting young Romeo."
"That last will be easy," replied Randolph, grimly.
Chapter 9
Randolph's preoccupation with himself interfered with his acting a part. But that
very grim aloofness made him the more convincing and mysterious to the Easterners.
Durland was a picture of astonishment when he saw Janey staggering into camp under a load of firewood.
"Don't you do it, Janey," he begged. "I'll get the wood." And leaving his mother, who importuned him to stay, he started off with Janey.
"Hyar, girl, don't go traipsing out of my sight with that jackass," growled Randolph, in so natural a tone that Janey knew he was not masquerading.
Then while Bert went off alone, Janey approached Mrs. Durland.
"I've money and jewelry on my person," stated that lady, nervously. "Isn't that ruffian liable to steal them?"
"Sure. He'll search you presently," affirmed Janey.
"Search me!" gasped Mrs. Durland.
"I should smile," replied Janey, cheerfully. "Has he searched you?"
"Not yet. But anyone could see I couldn't hide anything. I've so little on."
"If he does I'll--I'll expire in my tracks," declared Mrs. Durland, and she looked it.
Randolph yelled for Janey to come back to the fire.
"Does he mean me, too?" asked Mrs. Durland.
"You'll know when he means you. And for heaven's sake, obey him quick. He's an awful brute. Nothing for him to give you a good sound kick!"
"The unspeakable monster! Of all acts--to kick a lady. He should be flayed alive... He beats, too?"
"Oh, often. I've learned to mind him promptly, and to keep my eye on him when he isn't occupied."
"What a horrible situation!" exclaimed Mrs. Durland. "I see him eying me now."
"Girl, come hyar," yelled Phil, loudly.
Janey hurried back to Randolph, who continued still in a loud voice: "What're you plotting with that old dame?"
"I was only sympathizing with her," replied Janey.
Bert appeared, carefully carrying a few sticks of firewood, to avoid soiling his moleskin riding breeches. Randolph noted this and glared.
"Huh! 'Fraid of dirtying your pants," he snorted, and he snatched up a blackened frying pan and wiped it brusquely on Bert's breeches.
That, for present, however, appeared to be the limit of Randolph's duplicity. He forgot again and lapsed into silence. Janey helped him get supper. She found it no easy matter to look dejected and frightened when she felt actually the opposite. She certainly could stand this situation for a while. It would only grow more absorbingly amusing and thrilling as time wore on. The Durlands were completely taken in. They were scared out of their wits. Janey realized that for the time being her reputation had been saved. But what if the cowboys came! Or anybody who really knew Randolph! Janey groaned at the very idea. She was somewhat dubious about the reaction of the cowboys, especially Ray, to this kidnaping stunt of Randolph's. But so long as they did not resort to violence she imagined their advent would heighten the interest. Cowboys, however, were an unknown quantity to her. It was quite possible that even she could not stop them in dealing what they might believe was summary justice to an offender of desert creed.
"Come and get it," called Randolph, most inhospitably.
"Get--what?" asked Mrs. Durland, startled. The suggestion in those words and tone did not strike her happily.
"Grub--you tenderfeet!"
Randolph's mood had not hindered his capacity as a good cook, a fact to which the Durlands, once set down to the meal, amply attested. For Janey, aside from satisfying honest hunger, the meal was otherwise a considerable success. Conversation was lacking until toward the end of supper Randolph told Mrs. Durland she would probably starve to death and have her bones picked by coyotes.
"I opened your pack," he added, by way of explanation. "You must have been going on a day's picnic."
"That Indian ate most of ours," ventured Bert.
"We can always get sheep," said Randolph to himself.
After supper he ordered the Durlands to make their beds at the foot of the rock slope. Bert asked and obtained permission to cut some cedar brush to lay under their blankets. Randolph gathered firewood, while Janey rested aside, dreaming and watching. When the shadows of the canyon twilight stole down, accentuating the loneliness, Randolph stalked away.
"What a strange--desperado!" exclaimed Mrs. Durland. "I think he must have been someone very different once. That fellow has breeding. A woman can always tell."
"Black Dick is the most gentlemanly outlaw in these parts," replied Janey. "Despite his habit of killing people," she added hastily.
"Janey, I apologize for all the nasty remarks I made," said Bert. "If we get out of this alive--why, everything can be as it was before."
"Ah-huh," returned Janey, dreamily. Nothing could ever be the same again. The future and the world had been transfigured prodigiously. But she wanted the present to last, even if she were compelled to stand for more love-making from Bert Durland. The young man, however, was still a little too perturbed over Black Dick to grow sentimental.
"Where does he sleep?" asked Mrs. Durland, anxiously.
"Black Dick? Oh, when he sleeps at all it's right by the fire. But he's an an owl."
"Where's your bed?" asked Bert.
"Mine is high up on this ledge behind," replied Janey.
"Couldn't you let Bert fetch it down by ours?" inquired the mother.
"Black Dick might not like that."
A bright campfire dispelled the gloom under the cliff if not that in the minds of the captives. Janey, at last, stole away to be alone. Her heart was full--full of what she knew not. Yet some of it was mischief and a great overwhelming lot was a deep rich emotion that seemed strange and stingingly sweet. It threatened to take charge of her wholly; therefore, rebelliously, finding it real and true, not to be denied, she compromised by putting off resignation until later. Very difficult was it to crush down this feeling, to resist the most amazingly kindly feelings toward the Durlands, to scorn forgiving her poor old dad, who had erred only in his love for her, and to fight off generally an avalanche of softness.
What could be expected to happen?--that was the question. Randolph had settled down to a waiting game, and he would stick there if they all starved. After all, he had been tempted into this thing; there were excuses for him, though, of course, no excuse whatever for the atrocious punishment he had meted out to her. The mask of night hid Janey's blush, but she felt its heat. Contemplation of that would not stay before her consciousness.
Indians might drop in upon them, or tourists, or sheepmen, or possibly roving riders of doubtful character. The possibility of any or all of these occurrences was remote, but anything could happen. The cowboys would surely come. Janey wanted that, yet she feared it. There was no hope of Randolph keeping up his deception for any considerable length of time. So Janey was in a quandary. She wanted the Durlands to have a good scare and leave Arizona under the impression they now entertained. She wanted dire and multiple punishments to fall upon Randolph's head. If it pleased her to assuage them later, that was aside from the question. If he could be reduced to abject abasement, to want really to be hanged, as he said, to taste the very bitterest of repentance, then would be the time for her denouement. For although he had not the slightest inkling, even the remotest hope, of his two driving passions, Janey knew. Janey herself had done the discovering of Beckyshibeta and of the true state of her heart, but that did not make them any the less his. What a profound thought! Janey trembled with it. There was a bigness about these discoveries that began to divorce her from the old Janey Endicott. She would, she must, have her revenge; she fought this subtle changing, as it seemed, of her very nature. She still hated, but the trouble was she could not be sure what. Janey sighed. Oh, what a fall this would be! Janey Endicott, on a pedestal of modern thought, freedom, independence, equality--crash!
Nevertheless, despite everything, Janey sought her bed, happy. For a while she sat on the ledge and gazed down into the campfire lightened circle. Mrs. Durland and her son huddled there, keeping the blaze bright, whispering, gazing furtively out into the black shadows, obvious
ly afraid to seek their beds. Presently Randolph strode out of the gloom. Janey tingled at sight of him. She marveled at herself--that any man could make her feel as she did.
"Madam, the hour grows late," declared Randolph, harshly, to the cowering woman. "Must I put you to bed?"
Whereupon Mrs. Durland made hasty retreat to her bed, which was under the ledge out of Janey's sight.
"Young fellar, you sit up and keep watch," continued Randolph, as he unrolled his camp bed near the fire. "And remember, no shenanigans. I always sleep with one eye open."
When Janey took a last look, Randolph appeared to be sleeping peacefully while Bert was nailed to the martyrdom of night watch.
The shadows flickered above Janey on the stone wall, played and danced and limned stories there. If she could have chosen she would rather have been here in this bed than anywhere else in the world. But all the strangeness and sweetness of the present at Beckyshibeta could not suffice to keep her awake.
Janey's slumbers were disrupted by a loud voice. Randolph was calling his captives to breakfast. Janey sat up and made herself as presentable as possible. The face that smiled at her from the little mirror did not require make-up. It was acquiring a beautiful golden tan. Her eyes danced with delight.
She went down to breakfast. Randolph did not glance up, at least while she was close. Bert was heavy-eyed and somber, and Mrs. Durland was a wreck.
"Good heavens, you look like you've slept," was Mrs. Durland's reply to Janey's greeting.
"I sure have," returned Janey, and then ate her breakfast with a will.
"Lord preserve me from another such night," prayed Mrs. Durland, fervently. "I lay on the rocks--turned from side to side. My body is full of holes, I know. Mosquitoes devoured me. Some kind of animals crawled over me. I nearly froze to death. And I never closed an eye."
"That's too bad," replied Janey. "But you'll get used to it after a while. Won't she, Mr. Black Dick?"
"Wise men say a human being can get used to any kind of suffering, but I don't believe it myself," astonishingly replied the supposed outlaw, with somber accusing eyes piercing Janey in a quick look.
"Mr. Black Dick, you were a better man once?" ventured Mrs. Durland, almost with sympathy.
