by Bret Harte
LANTY FOSTER'S MISTAKE
Lanty Foster was crouching on a low stool before the dying kitchenfire, the better to get its fading radiance on the book she was reading.Beyond, through the open window and door, the fire was also slowlyfading from the sky and the mountain ridge whence the sun had droppedhalf an hour before. The view was uphill, and the sky-line of thehill was marked by two or three gibbet-like poles from which, on anow invisible line between them, depended certain objects--mere blacksilhouettes against the sky--which bore weird likeness to human figures.Absorbed as she was in her book, she nevertheless occasionally cast animpatient glance in that direction, as the sunlight faded more quicklythan her fire. For the fluttering objects were the "week's wash" whichhad to be brought in before night fell and the mountain wind arose. Itwas strong at that altitude, and before this had ravished the clothesfrom the line, and scattered them along the highroad leading over theridge, once even lashing the shy schoolmaster with a pair of Lanty's ownstockings, and blinding the parson with a really tempestuous petticoat.
A whiff of wind down the big-throated chimney stirred the log embers onthe hearth, and the girl jumped to her feet, closing the book with animpatient snap. She knew her mother's voice would follow. It was hard toleave her heroine at the crucial moment of receiving an explanation froma presumed faithless lover, just to climb a hill and take in a lotof soulless washing, but such are the infelicities of stolen romancereading. She threw the clothes-basket over her head like a hood, thehandle resting across her bosom and shoulders, and with both her handsfree started out of the cabin. But the darkness had come up from thevalley in one stride after its mountain fashion, had outstripped her,and she was instantly plunged in it. Still the outline of the ridgeabove her was visible, with the white, steadfast stars that were notthere a moment ago, and by that sign she knew she was late. She had tobattle against the rushing wind now, which sung through the invertedbasket over her head and held her back, but with bent shoulders she atlast reached the top of the ridge and the level. Yet here, owing tothe shifting of the lighter background above her, she now found herselfagain encompassed with the darkness. The outlines of the poles haddisappeared, the white fluttering garments were distinct apparitionswaving in the wind, like dancing ghosts. But there certainly was a queermisshapen bulk moving beyond, which she did not recognize, and as she atlast reached one of the poles, a shock was communicated to it, throughthe clothes-line and the bulk beyond. Then she heard a voice sayimpatiently,--
"What in h-ll am I running into now?"
It was a man's voice, and, from its elevation, the voice of a man onhorseback. She answered without fear and with slow deliberation,--
"Inter our clothes-line, I reckon."
"Oh!" said the man in a half-apologetic tone. Then in brisker accents,"The very thing I want! I say, can you give me a bit of it? The ring ofmy saddle girth has fetched loose. I can fasten it with that."
"I reckon," replied Lanty, with the same unconcern, moving nearer thebulk, which now separated into two parts as the man dismounted. "Howmuch do you want?"
"A foot or two will do."
They were now in front of each other, although their faces were notdistinguishable to either. Lanty, who had been following the lines withher hand, here came upon the end knotted around the last pole. This shebegan to untie.
"What a place to hang clothes," he said curiously.
"Mighty dryin', tho'," returned Lanty laconically.
"And your house? Is it near by?" he continued.
"Just down the ridge--ye kin see from the edge. Got a knife?" She haduntied the knot.
"No--yes--wait." He had hesitated a moment and then produced somethingfrom his breast pocket, which he however kept in his hand. As he did notoffer it to her she simply held out a section of the rope betweenher hands, which he divided with a single cut. She saw only that theinstrument was long and keen. Then she lifted the flap of the saddlefor him as he attempted to fasten the loose ring with the rope, butthe darkness made it impossible. With an ejaculation, he fumbled in hispockets. "My last match!" he said, striking it, as he crouched overit to protect it from the wind. Lanty leaned over also, with her apronraised between it and the blast. The flame for an instant lit up thering, the man's dark face, mustache, and white teeth set together ashe tugged at the girth, and Lanty's brown, velvet eyes and soft, roundcheek framed in the basket. Then it went out, but the ring was secured.
"Thank you," said the man, with a short laugh, "but I thought you were ahumpbacked witch in the dark there."
"And I couldn't make out whether you was a cow or a b'ar," returned theyoung girl simply.
Here, however, he quickly mounted his horse, but in the action somethingslipped from his clothes, struck a stone, and bounded away into thedarkness.
"My knife," he said hurriedly. "Please hand it to me." But although thegirl dropped on her knees and searched the ground diligently, it couldnot be found. The man with a restrained ejaculation again dismounted,and joined in the search.
"Haven't you got another match?" suggested Lanty.
"No--it was my last!" he said impatiently.
"Just you hol' on here," she said suddenly, "and I'll run down to thekitchen and fetch you a light. I won't be long."
"No! no!" said the man quickly; "don't! I couldn't wait. I've been heretoo long now. Look here. You come in daylight and find it, and--justkeep it for me, will you?" He laughed. "I'll come for it. And now, ifyou'll only help to set me on that road again, for it's so infernalblack I can't see the mare's ears ahead of me, I won't bother you anymore. Thank you."
Lanty had quietly moved to his horse's head and taken the bridle in herhand, and at once seemed to be lost in the gloom. But in a few momentshe felt the muffled thud of his horse's hoof on the thick dust of thehighway, and its still hot, impalpable powder rising to his nostrils.
"Thank you," he said again, "I'm all right now," and in the pause thatfollowed it seemed to Lanty that he had extended a parting hand to herin the darkness. She put up her own to meet it, but missed his, whichhad blundered onto her shoulder. Before she could grasp it, she felt himstooping over her, the light brush of his soft mustache on her cheek,and then the starting forward of his horse. But the retaliating box onthe ear she had promptly aimed at him spent itself in the black spacewhich seemed suddenly to have swallowed up the man, and even his lightlaugh.
For an instant she stood still, and then, swinging the basketindignantly from her shoulder, took up her suspended task. It was nolight one in the increasing wind, and the unfastened clothes-line hadprecipitated a part of its burden to the ground through the looseningof the rope. But on picking up the trailing garments her hand struck anunfamiliar object. The stranger's lost knife! She thrust it hastily intothe bottom of the basket and completed her work. As she began to descendwith her burden she saw that the light of the kitchen fire, seenthrough the windows, was augmented by a candle. Her mother was evidentlyawaiting her.
"Pretty time to be fetchin' in the wash," said Mrs. Foster querulously."But what can you expect when folks stand gossipin' and philanderin' onthe ridge instead o' tendin' to their work?"
Now Lanty knew that she had NOT been "gossipin'" nor "philanderin'," yetas the parting salute might have been open to that imputation, and asshe surmised that her mother might have overheard their voices, shebriefly said, to prevent further questioning, that she had shown astranger the road. But for her mother's unjust accusation she would havebeen more communicative. As Mrs. Foster went back grumblingly into thesitting-room Lanty resolved to keep the knife at present a secret fromher mother, and to that purpose removed it from the basket. But in thelight of the candle she saw it for the first time plainly--and started.
For it was really a dagger! jeweled-handled and richly wrought--such asLanty had never looked upon before. The hilt was studded with gems, andthe blade, which had a cutting edge, was damascened in blue andgold. Her soft eyes reflected the brilliant setting, her lips partedbreathlessly; then, as her mother's voice ar
ose in the other room, shethrust it back into its velvet sheath and clapped it into her pocket.Its rare beauty had confirmed her resolution of absolute secrecy. Tohave shown it now would have made "no end of talk." And she was not surebut that her parents would have demanded its custody! And it was givento HER by HIM to keep. This settled the question of moral ethics. Shetook the first opportunity to run up to her bedroom and hide it underthe mattress.
Yet the thought of it filled the rest of her evening. When her householdduties were done she took up her novel again, partly from force of habitand partly as an attitude in which she could think of IT undisturbed.For what was fiction to her now? True, it possessed a certainreminiscent value. A "dagger" had appeared in several romances shehad devoured, but she never had a clear idea of one before. "The Countsprang back, and, drawing from his belt a richly jeweled dagger, hissedbetween his teeth," or, more to the purpose: "'Take this,' said Orlando,handing her the ruby-hilted poignard which had gleamed upon his thigh,'and should the caitiff attempt thy unguarded innocence--'"
"Did ye hear what your father was sayin'?" Lanty started. It was hermother's voice in the doorway, and she had been vaguely conscious ofanother voice pitched in the same querulous key, which, indeed, was thedominant expression of the small ranchers of that fertile neighborhood.Possibly a too complaisant and unaggressive Nature had spoiled them.
"Yes!--no!" said Lanty abstractedly, "what did he say?"
"If you wasn't taken up with that fool book," said Mrs. Foster, glancingat her daughter's slightly conscious color, "ye'd know! He allowedye'd better not leave yer filly in the far pasture nights. That gango' Mexican horse-thieves is out again, and raided McKinnon's stock lastnight."
This touched Lanty closely. The filly was her own property, and shewas breaking it for her own riding. But her distrust of her parents'interference was greater than any fear of horse-stealers. "She's mightyuneasy in the barn; and," she added, with a proud consciousness of thatbeautiful yet carnal weapon upstairs, "I reckon I ken protect her andmyself agin any Mexican horse-thieves."
"My! but we're gettin' high and mighty," responded Mrs. Foster, withdeep irony. "Did you git all that outer your fool book?"
"Mebbe," said Lanty curtly.
Nevertheless, her thoughts that night were not entirely based on writtenromance. She wondered if the stranger knew that she had really tried tobox his ears in the darkness, also if he had been able to see her face.HIS she remembered, at least the flash of his white teeth against hisdark face and darker mustache, which was quite as soft as her own hair.But if he thought "for a minnit" that she was "goin' to allow an entirestranger to kiss her--he was mighty mistaken." She should let him knowit "pretty quick"! She should hand him back the dagger "quite carelesslike," and never let on that she'd thought anything of it. Perhaps thatwas the reason why, before she went to bed, she took a good look at it,and after taking off her straight, beltless, calico gown she even triedthe effect of it, thrust in the stiff waistband of her petticoat, withthe jeweled hilt displayed, and thought it looked charming--as indeed itdid. And then, having said her prayers like a good girl, and supplicatedthat she should be less "tetchy" with her parents, she went to sleep anddreamed that she had gone out to take in the wash again, but that theclothes had all changed to the queerest lot of folks, who were allfighting and struggling with each other until she, Lanty, drawing herdagger, rushed up single-handed among them, crying, "Disperse, ye cravencurs,--disperse, I say." And they dispersed.
Yet even Lanty was obliged to admit the next morning that all this wassomewhat incongruous with the baking of "corn dodgers," the frying offish, the making of beds, and her other household duties, and dismissedthe stranger from her mind until he should "happen along." In her freerand more acceptable outdoor duties she even tolerated the advances ofneighboring swains who made a point of passing by "Foster's Ranch," andwho were quite aware that Atalanta Foster, alias "Lanty," was one of theprettiest girls in the country. But Lanty's toleration consisted in thatsingular performance known to herself as "giving them as good as theysent," being a lazy traversing, qualified with scorn, of all that theyadvanced. How long they would have put up with this from a plain girl Ido not know, but Lanty's short upper lip seemed framed for indolentand fascinating scorn, and her dreamy eyes usually looked beyond thequestioner, or blunted his bolder glances in their velvety surfaces. Thelibretto of these scenes was not exhaustive, e.g.:--
The Swain (with bold, bad gayety). "Saw that shy schoolmaster hangin'round your ridge yesterday! Orter know by this time that shyness with agal don't pay."
Lanty (decisively). "Mebbe he allows it don't get left as often asimpudence."
The Swain (ignoring the reply and his previous attitude and becomingmore direct). "I was calkilatin' to say that with these yer hoss-thievesabout, yer filly ain't safe in the pasture. I took a turn round theretwo or three times last evening to see if she was all right."
Lanty (with a flattering show of interest). "No! DID ye, now? I was jestwonderin"'--
The Swain (eagerly). "I did--quite late, too! Why, that's nothin', MissAtalanty, to what I'd do for you."
Lanty (musing, with far off-eyes). "Then that's why she was so awfulskeerd and frightened! Just jumpin' outer her skin with horror. Ireckoned it was a b'ar or panther or a spook! You ought to have waitedtill she got accustomed to your looks."
Nevertheless, despite this elegant raillery, Lanty was enough concernedin the safety of her horse to visit it the next day with a view ofbringing it nearer home. She had just stepped into the alder fringe ofa dry "run" when she came suddenly upon the figure of a horseman in the"run," who had been hidden by the alders from the plain beyond and whoseemed to be engaged in examining the hoof marks in the dust of theold ford. Something about his figure struck her recollection, and ashe looked up quickly she saw it was the owner of the dagger. Buthe appeared to be lighter of hair and complexion, and was dresseddifferently, and more like a vaquero. Yet there was the same flash ofhis teeth as he recognized her, and she knew it was the same man.
Alas for her preparation! Without the knife she could not make thathaughty return of it which she had contemplated. And more than that, shewas conscious she was blushing! Nevertheless she managed to level herpretty brown eyebrows at him, and said sharply that if he followed herto her home she would return his property at once.
"But I'm in no hurry for it," he said with a laugh,--the same lightlaugh and pleasant voice she remembered,--"and I'd rather not come tothe house just now. The knife is in good hands, I know, and I'll callfor it when I want it! And until then--if it's all the same to you--keepit to yourself,--keep it dark, as dark as the night I lost it!"
"I don't go about blabbing my affairs," said Lanty indignantly, "and ifit hadn't BEEN dark that night you'd have had your ears boxed--you knowwhy!"
The stranger laughed again, waved his hand to Lanty, and galloped away.
Lanty was a little disappointed. The daylight had taken away some ofher illusions. He was certainly very good-looking, but not quite aspicturesque, mysterious, and thrilling as in the dark! And it was veryqueer--he certainly did look darker that night! Who was he? And whywas he lingering near her? He was different from her neighbors--heradmirers. He might be one of those locaters, from the big towns, whoprospect the lands, with a view of settling government warrants onthem,--they were always so secret until they had found what they wanted.She did not dare to seek information of her friends, for the same reasonthat she had concealed his existence from her mother,--it would provokeawkward questions; and it was evident that he was trusting to hersecrecy, too. The thought thrilled her with a new pride, and was somecompensation for the loss of her more intangible romance. It wouldbe mighty fine, when he did call openly for his beautiful knife anddeclared himself, to have them all know that SHE knew about it allalong.
When she reached home, to guard against another such surprise shedetermined to keep the weapon with her, and, distrusting her pocket,confided it to the cheap little country-made corset which
only forthe last year had confined her budding figure, and which now, perhaps,heaved with an additional pride. She was quite abstracted during therest of the day, and paid but little attention to the gossip of the farmlads, who were full of a daring raid, two nights before, by the Mexicangang on the large stock farm of a neighbor. The Vigilant Committee hadbeen baffled; it was even alleged that some of the smaller ranchmenand herders were in league with the gang. It was also believed to be awidespread conspiracy; to have a political complexion in its combinationof an alien race with Southwestern filibusters. The legal authoritieshad been reinforced by special detectives from San Francisco. Lantyseldom troubled herself with these matters; she knew the exaggeration,she suspected the ignorance of her rural neighbors. She roughly referredit, in her own vocabulary, to "jaw," a peculiarly masculine quality. Butlater in the evening, when the domestic circle in the sitting-room hadbeen augmented by a neighbor, and Lanty had taken refuge behind hernovel as an excuse for silence, Zob Hopper, the enamored swain of theprevious evening, burst in with more astounding news. A posse of thesheriff had just passed along the ridge; they had "corraled" part of thegang, and rescued some of the stock. The leader of the gang had escaped,but his capture was inevitable, as the roads were stopped. "All thesame, I'm glad to see ye took my advice, Miss Atalanty, and brought inyour filly," he concluded, with an insinuating glance at the young girl.
But "Miss Atalanty," curling a quarter of an inch of scarlet lip abovethe edge of her novel, here "allowed" that if his advice or the fillyhad to be "took," she didn't know which was worse.
"I wonder ye kin talk to sech peartness, Mr. Hopper," said Mrs. Fosterseverely; "she ain't got eyes nor senses for anythin' but that book."
"Talkin' o' what's to be 'took,'" put in the diplomatic neighbor, "youbet it ain't that Mexican leader! No, sir! he's been 'stopped' beforethis--and then got clean away all the same! One o' them detectives gothim once and disarmed him--but he managed to give them the slip, afterall. Why, he's that full o' shifts and disguises thar ain't no spottin'him. He walked right under the constable's nose oncet, and took a drinkwith the sheriff that was arter him--and the blamed fool never knew it.He kin change even the color of his hair quick as winkin'."
"Is he a real Mexican,--a regular Greaser?" asked the paternal Foster."Cos I never heard that they wuz smart."
"No! They say he comes o' old Spanish stock, a bad egg they threw outerthe nest, I reckon," put in Hopper eagerly, seeing a strange animatedinterest dilating Lanty's eyes, and hoping to share in it; "but he'sreg'lar high-toned, you bet! Why, I knew a man who seed him in his owncamp--prinked out in a velvet jacket and silk sash, with gold chainsand buttons down his wide pants and a dagger stuck in his sash, with ahandle just blazin' with jew'ls. Yes! Miss Atalanty, they say that onestone at the top--a green stone, what they call an 'em'ral'--was worththe price o' a 'Frisco house-lot. True ez you live! Eh--what's up now?"
Lanty's book had fallen on the floor as she was rising to her feetwith a white face, still more strange and distorted in an affected yawnbehind her little hand. "Yer makin' me that sick and nervous with yerfool yarns," she said hysterically, "that I'm goin' to get a littlefresh air. It's just stifling here with lies and terbacker!" Withanother high laugh, she brushed past him into the kitchen, opened thedoor, and then paused, and, turning, ran rapidly up to her bedroom. Hereshe locked herself in, tore open the bosom of her dress, plucked outthe dagger, threw it on the bed, where the green stone gleamed for aninstant in the candlelight, and then dropped on her knees beside the bedwith her whirling head buried in her cold red hands.
It had all come to her in a flash, like a blaze of lightning,--theblack, haunting figure on the ridge, the broken saddle girth, theabandonment of the dagger in the exigencies of flight and concealment;the second meeting, the skulking in the dry, alder-hidden "run," thechanged dress, the lighter-colored hair, but always the same voice andlaugh--the leader, the fugitive, the Mexican horse-thief! And she, theGodforsaken fool, the chuckle-headed nigger baby, with not half thesense of her own filly or that sop-headed Hopper--had never seen it!She--SHE who would be the laughing-stock of them all--she had thoughthim a "locater," a "towny" from 'Frisco! And she had consented to keephis knife until he would call for it,--yes, call for it, with fire andflame perhaps, the trampling of hoofs, pistol shots--and--yet--
Yet!--he had TRUSTED her. Yes! trusted her when he knew a word from herlips would have brought the whole district down on him! when the mereexposure of that dagger would have identified and damned him! Trustedher a second time, when she was within cry of her house! When he mighthave taken her filly without her knowing it? And now she rememberedvaguely that the neighbors had said how strange it was that her father'sstock had not suffered as theirs had. HE had protected them--he who wasnow a fugitive--and their men pursuing him! She rose suddenly with asingle stamp of her narrow foot, and as suddenly became cool and sane.And then, quite her old self again, she lazily picked up the dagger andrestored it to its place in her bosom. That done, with her color backand her eyes a little brighter, she deliberately went downstairs again,stuck her little brown head into the sitting-room, said cheerfully,"Still yawpin', you folks," and quietly passed out into the darkness.
She ran swiftly up to the ridge, impelled by the blind memory of havingmet him there at night and the one vague thought to give him warning.But it was dark and empty, with no sound but the rushing wind. And thenan idea seized her. If he were haunting the vicinity still, he might seethe fluttering of the clothes upon the line and believe she was there.She stooped quickly, and in the merciful and exonerating darknessstripped off her only white petticoat and pinned it on the line. Itflapped, fluttered, and streamed in the mountain wind. She lingered andlistened. But there came a sound she had not counted on,--the clatteringhoofs of not ONE, but many, horses on the lower road! She ran back tothe house to find its inmates already hastening towards the road fornews. She took that chance to slip in quietly, go to her room, whosewindow commanded a view of the ridge, and crouching low behind it shelistened. She could hear the sound of voices, and the dull trampling ofheavy boots on the dusty path towards the barnyard on the other side ofthe house--a pause, and then the return of the trampling boots, and thefinal clattering of hoofs on the road again. Then there was a tap on herdoor and her mother's querulous voice.
"Oh! yer there, are ye? Well--it's the best place fer a girl--with allthese man's doin's goin' on! They've got that Mexican horse-thief andhave tied him up in your filly's stall in the barn--till the 'Friscodeputy gets back from rounding up the others. So ye jest stay where yeare till they've come and gone, and we're shut o' all that cattle. Areye mindin'?"
"All right, maw; 'taint no call o' mine, anyhow," returned Lanty,through the half-open door.
At another time her mother might have been startled at her passiveobedience. Still more would she have been startled had she seen herdaughter's face now, behind the closed door--with her little mouth setover her clenched teeth. And yet it was her own child, and Lanty was hermother's real daughter; the same pioneer blood filled their veins, theblood that had never nourished cravens or degenerates, but had givenitself to sprinkle and fertilize desert solitudes where man mightfollow. Small wonder, then, that this frontier-born Lanty, whose firstinfant cry had been answered by the yelp of wolf and scream of panther;whose father's rifle had been leveled across her cradle to cover thestealthy Indian who prowled outside, small wonder that she should feelherself equal to these "man's doin's," and prompt to take a part. Foreven in the first shock of the news of the capture she recalled thefact that the barn was old and rotten, that only that day the fillyhad kicked a board loose from behind her stall, which she, Lanty,had lightly returned to avoid "making a fuss." If his captors had notnoticed it, or trusted only to their guards, she might make the openingwide enough to free him!
Two hours later the guard nearest the now sleeping house, a farm handof the Fosters', saw his employer's daughter slip out and cautiouslyapproach him. A devoted slave of Lanty's, and f
amiliar with herimpulses, he guessed her curiosity, and was not averse to satisfy itand the sense of his own importance. To her whispers of affected,half-terrified interest, he responded in whispers that the captive wasreally in the filly's stall, securely bound by his wrists behind hisback, and his feet "hobbled" to a post. That Lanty couldn't see him, forit was dark inside, and he was sitting with his back to the wall, as hecouldn't sleep comf'ble lyin' down. Lanty's eyes glowed, but her facewas turned aside.
"And ye ain't reckonin' his friends will come and rescue him?" saidLanty, gazing with affected fearfulness in the darkness.
"Not much! There's two other guards down in the corral, and I'd fire mygun and bring 'em up."
But Lanty was gazing open-mouthed towards the ridge. "What's that wavin'on the ridge?" she said in awe-stricken tones.
She was pointing to the petticoat,--a vague, distant, moving objectagainst the horizon.
"Why, that's some o' the wash on the line, ain't it?"
"Wash--TWO DAYS IN THE WEEK!" said Lanty sharply. "Wot's gone of you?"
"Thet's so," muttered the man, "and it wan't there at sundown, I'llswear! P'r'aps I'd better call the guard," and he raised his rifle.
"Don't," said Lanty, catching his arm. "Suppose it's nothin', they'lllaugh at ye. Creep up softly and see; ye ain't afraid, are ye? If yeare, give me yer gun, and I'LL go."
This settled the question, as Lanty expected. The man cocked his piece,and bending low began cautiously to mount the acclivity. Lanty waiteduntil his figure began to fade, and then ran like fire to the barn.
She had arranged every detail of her plan beforehand. Crouching besidethe wall of the stall she hissed through a crack in thrilling whispers,"Don't move. Don't speak for your life's sake. Wait till I hand you backyour knife, then do the best you can." Then slipping aside the loosenedboard she saw dimly the black outline of curling hair, back, shoulders,and tied wrists of the captive. Drawing the knife from her pocket, withtwo strokes of its keen cutting edge she severed the cords, threw theknife into the opening, and darted away. Yet in that moment she knewthat the man was instinctively turning towards her. But it was one thingto free a horse-thief, and another to stop and "philander" with him.
She ran halfway up the ridge, and met the farm hand returning. It wasonly a bit of washing after all, and he was glad he hadn't fired hisgun. On the other hand, Lanty confessed she had got "so skeert" beingalone, that she came to seek him. She had the shivers; wasn't herhand cold? It was, but thrilling even in its coldness to the bashfullyadmiring man. And she was that weak and dizzy, he must let her lean onhis arm going down; and they must go SLOW. She was sure he was cold,too, and if he would wait at the back door she would give him a drink ofwhiskey. Thus Lanty, with her brain afire, her eyes and ears straininginto the darkness, and the vague outline of the barn beyond. Anothermoment was protracted over the drink of whiskey, and then Lanty, with afaint archness, made him promise not to tell her mother of her escapade,and she promised on her part not to say anything about his "stalkinga petticoat on the clothesline," and then shyly closed the door andregained her room. HE must have got away by this time, or have beendiscovered; she believed they would not open the barn door until thereturn of the posse.
She was right. It was near daybreak when they returned, and, againcrouching low beside her window, she heard, with a fierce joy, thesudden outcry, the oaths, the wrangling voices, the summoning of herfather to the front door, and then the tumultuous sweeping away again ofthe whole posse, and a blessed silence falling over the rancho. And thenLanty went quietly to bed, and slept like a three-year child!
Perhaps that was the reason why she was able at breakfast to listen withlazy and even rosy indifference to the startling events of the night; tothe sneers of the farm hands at the posse who had overlooked the knifewhen they searched their prisoner, as well as the stupidity of thecorral guard who had never heard him make a hole "the size of a house"in the barn side! Once she glanced demurely at Silas Briggs--the farmhand and the poor fellow felt consoled in his shame at the remembranceof their confidences.
But Lanty's tranquillity was not destined to last long. There was againthe irruption of exciting news from the highroad; the Mexican leader hadbeen recaptured, and was now safely lodged in Brownsville jail! Thosewho were previously loud in their praises of the successful horse-thiefwho had baffled the vigilance of his pursuers were now equally keenin their admiration of the new San Francisco deputy who, in turn, hadoutwitted the whole gang. It was HE who was fertile in expedients; HEwho had studied the whole country, and even risked his life among thegang, and HE who had again closed the meshes of the net around theescaped outlaw. He was already returning by way of the rancho, and mightstop there a moment,--so that they could all see the hero. Such was thepower of success on the country-side! Outwardly indifferent, inwardlybitter, Lanty turned away. She should not grace his triumph, if she keptin her room all day! And when there was a clatter of hoofs on the roadagain, Lanty slipped upstairs.
But in a few moments she was summoned. Captain Lance Wetherby, AssistantChief of Police of San Francisco, Deputy Sheriff and ex-U. S. scout,had requested to see Miss Foster a few moments alone. Lanty knew whatit meant,--her secret had been discovered; but she was not the girl toshirk the responsibility! She lifted her little brown head proudly, andwith the same resolute step with which she had left the house the nightbefore, descended the stairs and entered the sitting-room. At first shesaw nothing. Then a remembered voice struck her ear; she started, lookedup, and gasping, fell back against the door. It was the stranger whohad given her the dagger, the stranger she had met in the run!--thehorse-thief himself! No! no! she saw it all now--she had cut loose thewrong man!
He looked at her with a smile of sadness--as he drew from hisbreast-pocket that dreadful dagger, the very sight of which Lanty nowloathed! "This is the SECOND time, Miss Foster," he said gently, "thatI have taken this knife from Murietta, the Mexican bandit: once when Idisarmed him three weeks ago, and he escaped, and last night, when hehad again escaped and I recaptured him. After I lost it that night Iunderstood from you that you had found it and were keeping it for me."He paused a moment and went on: "I don't ask you what happened lastnight. I don't condemn you for it; I can believe what a girl of yourcourage and sympathy might rightly do if her pity were excited; I onlyask--why did you give HIM back that knife I trusted you with?"
"Why? Why did I?" burst out Lanty in a daring gush of truth, scorn, andtemper. "BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE THAT HORSE-THIEF. There!"
He drew back astonished, and then suddenly came that laugh that Lantyremembered and now hailed with joy. "I believe you, by Jove!" he gasped."That first night I wore the disguise in which I have tracked him andmingled with his gang. Yes! I see it all now--and more. I see that toYOU I owe his recapture!"
"To me!" echoed the bewildered girl; "how?"
"Why, instead of making for his cave he lingered here in the confines ofthe ranch! He thought you were in love with him, because you freed himand gave him his knife, and stayed to see you!"
But Lanty had her apron to her eyes, whose first tears were fillingtheir velvet depths. And her voice was broken as she said,--
"Then he--cared--a--good deal more for me--than some people!"
But there is every reason to believe that Lanty was wrong! At leastlater events that are part of the history of Foster's Rancho and theFoster family pointed distinctly to the contrary.