CHAPTER XXVIII
RECONCILIATION--MRS. VINING EXPERIENCES A CHANGE OF HEART
We were to see more of our mathematician who haunted The Hatter.
On a day, the rider who brought our mail twice weekly, delivered a fatletter to Mrs. Horne. She read it with open mouth and called her husbandinto consultation behind closed doors. Shortly afterwards they summonedLafe, and in about an hour, he sent for me.
"I've got to go fetch that locoed prospector," he confided. "Will youhelp?"
"Why not get some of the boys to round him up?" I objected, for the mailhad brought some personal business that required thought.
"They might be rough with him. No, sir; we've got to bring him ingentle, Dan. It's the queerest story I ever done heard. Say, don't womendo queer things? I swan, I can't figure 'em."
All of the afternoon and next morning we rode the slopes of The Hatter.Then suddenly we saw him. The prospector was catching grasshoppers. Hemade to run as we approached, but Lafe spurred his horse and headed himoff. Seeing escape barred, he stood still and waited, not withoutdignity--if a man who is clutching a fist-full of grasshoppers canpossess dignity.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"Say, you speak French, don't you?"
"I can speak five languages, sir," said the prospector pompously. And hebegan to patter German.
"Well," Lafe resumed--and I could see he was impressed--"well, sir,there's a guy at the ranch who can't speak English very good. We wantsomebody to tell him what the ol' man wants--ol' Horne of the Anvil. Ifyou'll come down--"
"I shall be very pleased."
"Good," Johnson said in surprise. "We've got some right good liquorthere and I thought--"
The prospector laughed and looked at him cunningly. He would not mountbehind either of us, being suspicious even of the offer, but trudgedbetween, occasionally breaking into rambling discourses on naturalhistory and associated topics--such as the edible qualities ofgrasshoppers, if properly stewed. It took us five hours to reach theranch, and our guest was then so tired that he readily acceded to thesuggestion that we eat and sleep before meeting the gentleman who spokeonly French.
Next morning, by dint of impressing on him the importance of thetransaction and the high social status of the man he was to conversewith, Lafe persuaded the prospector to bathe and don new clothes. Theybelonged to Horne and sagged all over his emaciated body, but he seemedrather proud of his appearance. Also, once started, he consented to letDave, the cook, cut his hair and beard.
At noon I was on the porch when a buckboard drove up, and a man and awoman got out. The woman was heavily veiled. Both were hurried inside byMrs. Horne and I was sent down to the bunkhouse to carry word to Lafeand his captive.
"That feller who just come in is a specialist," Lafe whispered on theway to the house. "They come off the Burro express this morning."
The prospector was ushered into Horne's office, a bare room facing thecorrals. There a well-groomed man of affable manners met us andcourteously addressed him in French. They talked for a moment. Theprospector never let his gaze wander from the other's face.
"I say," he broke out abruptly in English, "isn't your name Toole?"
"It is."
"Harvard '87?"
"Yes, sir."
"That was my class."
The other affected to search his memory. He wrinkled his brow and pursedup his mouth.
"I remember you now perfectly. You're Vining."
They shook hands. Then Vining drew back as though assailed by asuspicion, and his glance flickered from one to the other of us likethat of an animal at bay.
"They said you couldn't speak--what does this mean, anyway? You'retrying--"
"Steady, old man," said the doctor.
The door to the sitting-room off the office opened, and Mrs. Vining camein. She went straight to the prospector, with her hands out pleadingly.Had she wavered, heaven knows what might not have happened.
"Harry!" she said.
What transpired after that I cannot say. Lafe and I found ourselvesoutside, and there the doctor joined us.
Not long after sunrise, Johnson himself drove a light, covered wagon infront of the porch steps, with me on the seat beside him. Our orderswere to catch the Burro express with our guests.
Mrs. Vining came first, the prospector holding fast to her arm. His eyeswere steady and he appeared perfectly rational, but uneasy and nervous,and he still shambled in his walk. Just behind them was the specialist,brisk and confident. He smiled on us triumphantly.
Before Mrs. Vining got into the vehicle, Mrs. Horne surged down thesteps impulsively and threw her arms about her neck and kissed her.
"Judy, I'm so--you've made me feel so--you're such a good--"
"Hush," whispered the woman of the yellow hair, and all the gayaffectation was gone from her. "Let us be thankful he's all right. Ifhe'll only stay--good-by, dear--we can only hope and pray God."
The Sheriff of Badger: A Tale of the Southwest Borderland Page 28