Nan of Music Mountain

by Frank H. Spearman

  CHAPTER XXIV

  AN OMINOUS MESSAGE

  Few men bear suspense well; de Spain took his turn at it very hard.For the first time in his life he found himself braved by men of atype whose defiance he despised--whose lawlessness he ordinarilywarred on without compunction--but himself without the freedom thathad always been his to act. Every impulse to take the bit in his teethwas met with the same insurmountable obstacle--Nan's feelings--and theunpleasant possibility that might involve him in bloodshed with herkinspeople.

  "Patience." He repeated the word to himself a thousand times to deadenhis suspense and apprehension. Business affairs took much of his time,but Nan's situation took most of his thought. For the first time hetold John Lefever the story of Nan's finding him on Music Mountain, ofher aid in his escape, and the sequel of their friendship. Lefevergave it to Bob Scott in Jeffries's office.

  "What did I tell you, John?" demanded Bob mildly.

  "No matter what you told me," retorted Lefever. "The question is:What's he to do to get Nan away from there without shooting up theMorgans?"

  De Spain had gone that morning to Medicine Bend. He got back late and,after a supper at the Mountain House, went directly to his room.

  The telephone-bell was ringing when he unlocked and threw open hisdoor. Entering the room, he turned on a light, closed the door behindhim, and sat down to answer the call.

  "Is this Henry de Spain?" came a voice, slowly pronouncing the wordsover the wire.

  "Yes."

  "I have a message for you."

  "What is it?"

  "From Music Mountain."

  "Go ahead."

  "The message is like this: 'Take me away from here as soon as youcan.'"

  "Whom is that message from?"

  "I can't call any names."

  "Who are you?"

  "I can't tell you that."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just what I say. Good-by."

  "Hold on. Where are you talking from?"

  "About a block from your office."

  "Do you think it a fair way to treat a man to----"

  "I have to be fair to myself."

  "Give me the message again."

  "'Take me away from here as soon as you can.'"

  "Where does it come from?"

  "Music Mountain."

  "If you're treating me fair--and I believe you mean to--come over tomy room a minute."

  "No."

  "Let me come to where you are?"

  "No."

  "Let me wait for you--anywhere?"

  "No."

  "Do you know me?"

  "By sight."

  "How did you know I was in town to-night?"

  "I saw you get off the train."

  "You were looking for me, then?"

  "To deliver my message."

  "Do you think that message means what it says?"

  "I know it does."

  "Do you know what it means for me to undertake?"

  "I have a pretty stiff idea."

  "Did you get it direct from the party who sent it?"

  "I can't talk all night. Take it or leave it just where it is."

  De Spain heard him close. He closed his own instrument and beganfeverishly signalling central. "This is 101. Henry de Spain talking,"he said briskly. "You just called me. Ten dollars for you, operator,if you can locate that call, quick!"

  There was a moment of delay at the central office, then the answer:"It came from 234--Tenison's saloon."

  "Give me your name, operator. Good. Now give me 22 as quick as theLord will let you, and ring the neck off the bell."

  Lefever answered the call on number 22. The talk was quick and sharp.Messengers were instantly pressed into service from the despatcher'soffice. Telephone wires hummed, and every man available on the specialagent's force was brought into action. Livery-stables were covered,the public resorts were put under observation, horsemen clattered upand down the street. Within an incredibly short time the town wasrounded up, every outgoing trail watched, and search was under way forany one from Morgan's Gap, and especially for the sender of thetelephone message.

  De Spain, after instructing Lefever, hastened to Tenison's. His rapidquestioning of the few habitues of the place and the bartenderelicited only the information that a man had used the telephone boothwithin a few minutes. Nobody knew him or, if they did know him,refused to describe him in any but vague terms. He had come in by thefront door and slipped out probably by the rear door--at all events,unnoticed by those questioned. By a series of eliminating inquiries,de Spain made out only that the man was not a Morgan. Outside, BobScott in the saddle waited with a led horse. The two men rode straightand hard for the river bridge. They roused an old hunter who lived ina near-by hut, on the town side, and asked whether any horseman hadcrossed the bridge. The hunter admitted gruffly that he _had_ heard ahorse's hoof recently on the bridge. Within how long? The hunter,after taking a full precious minute to decide, said thirty minutes;moreover, he insisted that the horseman he had heard had ridden intotown, and not out.

  Sceptical of the correctness of the information, Scott and de Spainclattered out on the Sinks. Their horseflesh was good and they feltthey could overtake any man not suspecting pursuit. The sky wasovercast, and speed was their only resource. After two miles ofriding, the pursuers reined up on a ridge, and Scott, springing fromthe saddle, listened for sounds. He rose from the ground, declaringhe could hear the strides of a running horse. Again the two dashedahead.

  The chase was bootless. Whoever rode before them easily eludedpursuit. The next time the scout dropped from his saddle to listen,not the faintest sound rewarded his attention. De Spain was impatient."He could easily slip us," Scott explained, "by leaving the trail fora minute while we rode past--if he knows his business--and I guess hedoes."

  "If the old man was right, that man could have ridden in town and out,too, within half to three-quarters of an hour," said de Spain. "Buthow could he have got out without being heard?"

  "Maybe," suggested Scott, "he forded the river."

  "Could he do it?"

  "It's a man's job," returned Scott, reflecting, "but it could bedone."

  "If a man thought it necessary."

  "If he knew you by sight," responded Scott unmoved, "he might havethought it necessary."

  Undeterred by his failure to overtake the fugitive, de Spain roderapidly back to town to look for other clews. Nothing further wasfound to throw light on the message or messenger. No one had beenfound anywhere in town from Morgan's Gap; whoever had taken a chancein delivering the message had escaped undetected.

  Even after the search had been abandoned the significance of theincident remained to be weighed. De Spain was much upset. A conferencewith Scott, whose judgment in any affair was marked by good sense, andwith Lefever, who, like a woman, reached by intuition a conclusion atwhich Scott or de Spain arrived by process of thought, only revealedthe fact that all three, as Lefever confessed, were nonplussed.

  "It's one of two things," declared Lefever, whose eyes werenever dulled by late hours. "Either they've sent this to lure youinto the Gap and 'get' you, or else--and that's a great big 'orelse'--she needs you. Henry, did that message--I mean the way itwas worded--sound like Nan Morgan?"

  De Spain could hardly answer. "It did, and it didn't," he saidfinally. "But--" his companions saw during the pause by which his lipsexpressed the resolve he had finally reached that he was not likely tobe turned from it--"I am going to act just as if the word came fromNan and she does need me."

  More than one scheme for getting quickly into touch with Nan wasproposed and rejected within the next ten minutes. And when Lefever,after conferring with Scott, put up to de Spain a proposal that thethree should ride into the Gap together and demand Nan at the hands ofDuke Morgan, de Spain had reached another conclusion.

  "I know you are willing to take more than your share, John, of anygame I play. In the first place it isn't right to take you and Bob inwhere I am going on my own per
sonal affair. And I know Nan wouldn'tenjoy the prospect of an all-around fight on her account. Fighting isa horror to that girl. I've got her feelings to think about as well asmy own. I've decided what to do, John. I'm going in alone."

  "You're going in alone!"

  "To-night. Now, I'll tell you what I'd like you to do if you want to:ride with me and wait till morning, outside El Capitan. If you don'thear from me by ten o'clock, ride back to Calabasas and notifyJeffries to look for a new manager."

  "On the contrary, if we don't hear from you by ten o'clock, Henry, wewill blaze our way in and drag out your body." Lefever put up his handto cut off any rejoinder. "Don't discuss it. What happens after teno'clock to-morrow morning, if we don't hear from you before that,can't possibly be of any interest to you or make any difference." Hepaused, but de Spain saw that he was not done. When he resumed, hespoke in a tone different from that which de Spain usually associatedwith him. "Henry, when I was a youngster and going to Sunday-school,my old Aunt Lou often told me a story about a pitcher that used to goto the well. And she told me it went many, many times, safe and sound;but my Aunt Lou told me, further, the pitcher got so used to going tothe well safe and sound that it finally went once too many times, justonce too often, and got smashed all to hell. Aunt Lou didn't say itexactly in that way--but such was the substance of the moral.

  "You've pulled a good many tough games in this country, Henry. No manknows better than I that you never pulled one for the looks of thething or to make people talk--or that you ever took a chance youdidn't feel you had to take. But, it isn't humanly possible you cankeep this up for all time; it _can't_ go on forever. The pitcher goesto the well once too often, Henry; there comes a time when it doesn'tcome back.

  "Understand--I'm not saying this to attempt to dissuade you from theworst job you ever started in on. I know your mind is made up. Youwon't listen to me; you won't listen to Scott; and I'm too good anIndian not to know where I get off, or not to do what I'm told. Butthis is what I have been thinking of a long, long time; and this iswhat I feel I ought to say, here and now."

  The two men were sitting in de Spain's room. De Spain was staringthrough the broad south window at the white-capped peaks of thedistant range. He was silent for a time. "I believe you're right,John," he said after a while. "I know you are. In this case I am tiedup more than I've ever been tied before; but I've got to see itthrough as best I can, and take what comes without whining. My mind ismade up and, strange as it may sound to you, I feel that I _am_ comingback. Not but what I know it's due me, John. Not but what I expect toget it sometime. And maybe I'm wrong now; but I don't feel as if it'scoming till I've given all the protection to that girl that a man cangive to a woman."