XX
The White Revolver
In the morning Caleb had the satisfaction of eating a breakfastprepared by the son of his enemy, for Sam was cook that day.
The Great Woodpecker expressed the thought of the whole assembly whenafter breakfast he said: "Now I want to go and see that grave. Ibelieve Yan wrote his name on some old cow that was lying down and shedidn't like it and said so out loud!"
They arrived at the spot in a few minutes. Yes, there it wasplainly written on the rude gravestone, rather shaky, but perfectlylegible--"Yan."
"Pretty poor writing," was Guy's remark.
"Well, you sure done it! Good boy!" said Sam warmly. "Don't believeI'd 'a' had the grit."
"Bet I would," said Guy.
"Here's where I crossed the ditch. See my trail in the mud? Out thereis where I heard the yelling. Let's see if ghosts make tracks. Hallo,what the--"
There were the tracks in the mud of a big man. He had sprawled,falling on his hands and knees. Here was the print of his handsseveral times, and in the mud, half hidden, something shining--Guy sawit first and picked it up. It was a white-handled Colt's revolver.
"Let's see that," said Caleb. He wiped off the mud. His eye kindled."That's my revolver that was stole from me 'way back, time I lost myclothes and money." He looked it over and, glancing about, seemed lostin thought. "This beats me!" He shook his head and muttered from timeto time, "This beats me!" There seemed nothing more of interest tosee, so the boys turned homeward.
On the way back Caleb was evidently thinking hard. He walked insilence till they got opposite Granny de Neuville's shanty, which wasthe nearest one to the grave. At the gate he turned and said: "GuessI'm going in here. Say, Yan, you didn't do any of that hollering lastnight, did you?"
"No, sir; not a word. The only sound I made was dragging thering-stone over the boulder."
"Well, I'll see you at camp," he said, and turned in to Granny's.
"The tap o' the marnin' to ye, an' may yer sowl rest in pace," was thecheery old woman's greeting. "Come in--come in, Caleb, an' set down.An' how is Saryann an' Dick?"
"They seem happy an' prosperin'," said the old man with bitterness."Say, Granny, did you ever hear the story about Garney's grave outthere on the road?"
"For the love av goodness, an' how is it yer after askin' me that now?Sure an' I heard the story many a time, an' I'm after hearin' theghost last night, an' it's a-shiverin' yit Oi am."
"What did you hear, Granny?"
"Och, an' it was the most divilish yells iver let out av a soul inhell. Shure the Dog and the Cat both av thim was scairt, and the owldwhite-faced cow come a-runnin' an' jumped the bars to get aff av theroad."
Here was what Caleb wanted, and he kept her going by his evidentinterest. After she tired of providing more realistic details ofthe night's uproar, Caleb deliberately tapped another vintage oftittle-tattle in hope of further information leaking out.
"Granny, did you hear of a robbery last week down this side ofDowney's Dump?"
"Shure an' I did not," she exclaimed, her eyes ablaze withinterest--neither had Caleb, for that matter; but he wanted to startthe subject--"An" who was it was robbed?"
"Don't know, unless it was John Evans's place."
"Shure an' I don't know him, but I warrant he could sthand to lose.Shure an' it's when the raskils come after me an' Cal Conner themoment it was talked around that we had sold our Cow; then sez I, it'sgittin' onraisonable, an' them divils shorely seems to know whin a wado' money passes."
"That's the gospel truth. But when wuz you robbed, Granny?"
"Robbed? I didn't say I wuz robbed," and she cackled. "But the robbershad the best av intintions when they came to me," and she relatedat length her experience with the two who broke in when her Cow wasreported sold. She laughed over their enjoyment of the Lung Balm, andbriefly told how the big man was sulky and the short, broad one wasfunny. Their black beards, the "big wan" with his wounded head, hisleft-handedness and his accidental exposure of the three fingers ofthe right hand, all were fully talked over.
"When was it, Granny?"
"Och, shure an' it wuz about three years apast."
Then after having had his lungs treated, old Caleb left Granny and setout to do some very hard thinking.
There had been robberies all around for the last four years; There wasno clue but this: They were all of the same character; nothing butcash was taken, and the burglars seemed to have inside knowledge ofthe neighbourhood, and timed all their visits to happen just after thehouseholder had come into possession of a roll of bills.
As soon as Caleb turned in at the de Neuville gate, Yan, acting on abelated thought, said:
"Boys, you go on to camp; I'll be after you in five minutes." He wantedto draw those tracks in the mud and try to trail that man, so wentback to the grave.
He studied the marks most carefully and by opening out the book he wasable to draw the boot tracks life-size, noting that each had threerows of small hobnails on the heel, apparently put in at home becauseso irregular, while the sole of the left was worn into a hole. Then hestudied the hand tracks, selected the clearest, and was drawing theright hand when something odd caught his attention.
Yes! It appeared in all the impressions of that hand--the middlefinger was gone.
The three-fingered hand-print]
Yan followed the track on the road a little way, but at the corner itturned southward and was lost in the grass.
As he was going back to camp he overtook Caleb also returning.
"Mr. Clark," he said. "I went back to sketch those tracks, and do youknow--that man had only three fingers on his right hand?"
"Consarn me!" said Caleb. "Are you sure?"
"Come and see for yourself."
Yes! It surely was true, and Caleb on the road back said, "Yan, don'tsay a word of this to the others just now."
The old Trapper went to the Pogue house at once. He found the tracksrepeated in the dust near the door, but they certainly were not madeby Dick. On a line was a pair of muddy trousers drying.
From this night Yan went up and Guy went down in the old man'sopinion, for he spoke his own mind that day when he gave first placeto grit. He invited Yan to come to his shanty to see a pair ofsnow-shoes he was making. The invitation was vague and general, so thewhole Tribe accepted. Yan had not been there since his first visit.The first part of their call was as before. In answer to their knockthere was a loud baying from the Hound, then a voice ordering himback. Caleb opened the door, but now said "Step in." If he wasdispleased with the others coming he kept it to himself. While Yanwas looking at the snow-shoes Guy discovered something much moreinteresting on the old man's bunk; that was the white revolver, nowcleaned up and in perfect order. Caleb's delight at its recovery,though not very apparent, was boundless. He had not been able to buyhimself another, and this was as warmly welcomed back as though along-lost only child.
"Say, Caleb, let's try a shot. I bet I kin beat the hull gang,"exclaimed Sapwood.
Caleb got some cartridges and pointed to a white blaze on a stumpforty yards away. Guy had three or four shots and Yan had the samewithout hitting the stump. Then Caleb said, "Lemme show you."
His big rugged hand seemed to swallow up the little gun-stock. Hislong knobbed finger fitted around the lock in a strange but familiarway. Caleb was a bent-arm shot, and the short barrel looked like hisown forefinger pointing at the target as he pumped away six times inquick succession. All went into the blaze and two into the charcoalspot that marked the centre.
"By George! Look at that for shooting!" and the boys were loud intheir praise.
"Well, twenty year ago I used to be a pretty good shot," Calebproceeded to explain with an air of unnecessary humility and a verygenial expression on his face. "But that's dead easy. I'll show yousome real tricks."
Twenty-five feet away he set up three cartridges in a row, their capstoward him, and exploded them in succession with three rapid shots.Then he put the revolver in the side pocket o
f his coat, andrecklessly firing it without drawing, much less sighting or evenshowing it, he peppered a white blaze at twenty yards. Finally helooked around for an old fruit tin. Then he cocked the revolver,laid it across his right hand next the thumb and the tin across thefingers. He then threw them both in the air with a jerk that sent therevolver up ten feet and the tin twenty. As the revolver came down heseized it and shot a hole through the tin before it could reach theground.
The boys were simply dumbfounded. They had used up all theirexclamations on the first simple target trial.
Caleb stepped into the shanty to get a cleaning-rag for his darling,and Sam burst out:
"Well, now I know he never shot at Da, for if he did he'd 'a' got himsure."
It was not meant for Caleb's ears, but it reached him, and the oldTrapper came to the door at once with a long, expressive "H-m-m-mrr."
Thus was broken the dam of silent scorn, for it was the first timeCaleb had addressed himself to Sam. The flood had forced the barrier,but it still left plenty of stuff in the channel to be washed away bytime and wear, and it was long before he talked to Sam as freely as tothe others, but still in time he learned.
There was an air of geniality on all now, and Yan took advantage ofthis to ask for something he had long kept in mind.
"Mr. Clark, will you take us out for a Coon hunt? We know where thereare lots of Coons that feed in a corn patch up the creek."
If Yan had asked this a month ago he would have got a contemptuousrefusal. Before the visit to Carney's grave it might have been, "Oh, Idunno--I ain't got time," but he was on the right side of Caleb now,and the answer was:
"Well, yes! Don't mind if I do, first night it's coolish, so the Dogkin run."
Raccoon in tree]
Two Little Savages Page 51