The Blue Goose

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by Frank Lewis Nason


  CHAPTER XXII

  _Good Intentions_

  Returning from the station, Hartwell drove rapidly until he came to thefoot of the mountain that rose above the nearly level mesa. Even then hetried to urge his jaded team into a pace in some consonance with hisanxiety; but the steep grades and the rarefied air appealed morestrongly to the exhausted animals than did the stinging lash he wielded.As, utterly blown, they came to a rest at the top of a steep grade,Hartwell became aware of the presence of three men who rose leisurely asthe team halted. Two of them stood close by the horses' heads, the thirdpaused beside the wagon.

  "Howdy!" he saluted, with a grin.

  "What do you want?" A hold-up was the only thing that occurred toHartwell.

  "Just a little sociable talk. You ain't in no hurry?" The grinbroadened.

  "I am." Hartwell reached for his whip.

  "None of that!" The grin died away. The two men each laid a firm hand onthe bridles.

  "Will you tell me what this means?" There was not a quaver in Hartwell'svoice, no trace of fear in his eyes.

  "By-and-by. You just wait. You got a gun?"

  "No; I haven't."

  "I don't like to dispute a gentleman; but it's better to be safe. Justput up your hands."

  Hartwell complied with the request. The man passed his hands rapidlyover Hartwell's body, then turned away.

  "All right," he said, then seated himself and began filling his pipe.

  "How long am I expected to wait?" Hartwell's tone was sarcastic.

  "Sorry I can't tell you. It just depends. I'll let you know when."

  He relapsed into silence that Hartwell could not break with all hisimpatient questions or his open threats. The men left the horses' headsand seated themselves in the road. It occurred to Hartwell to make adash for liberty, but there was a cartridge-belt on each man andholsters with ready guns.

  In the deep canon the twilight was giving way to darkness that was onlyheld in check by the strip of open sky above and by a band of yellowlight that burned with lambent tongues on the waving foliage whichoverhung the eastern cliff. Chattering squirrels and scolding magpieshad long since ceased their bickerings; if there were other sounds thatcame with the night, they were overcome by the complaining river whichceased not day nor night to fret among the boulders that strewed itsbed. Like a shaft of light piercing the darkness a whistle sounded,mellowed by distance. The man near the wagon spoke.

  "That's a special. Where in hell's Jack?"

  "On deck." A fourth man came to a halt. He paused, wiping theperspiration from his face. "They're coming, a hundred strong. Jakeycoughed it up, and it didn't cost a cent." He laughed. "It's JackHaskins's crowd, too."

  The man by the wagon addressed Hartwell.

  "I can tell you now. It's an all-night wait. Tumble out lively. Bettertake your blankets, if you've got any. It's liable to be cool beforemorning right here. It'll be hotter on the mountain, but you'd betterstay here."

  Hartwell did not stir.

  "Out with you now, lively. We ain't got no time to waste."

  Hartwell obeyed. The man sprang into the wagon and, pitching out theblankets, gathered up the lines.

  "Come on, boys." Turning to his companion, he said, "You stay with him,Jack. He ain't heeled; but don't let him off." To Hartwell direct,"Don't try to get away. We'll deliver your message about the special."

  His companions were already in the wagon and they started up the trail.

  Jack turned to his charge.

  "Now, if you'll just be a good boy and mind me, to-morrow I'll take youto the circus."

 

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