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Ebook has 113 lines and 11861 words, and 3 pages

Release date: October 5, 2023

Original publication: New York: Street and Smith Corporation, 1923

Credits: Roger Frank and Sue Clark

THE LOST CHARM

THE LOST CHARM

A small, wiry, red-haired man scrambled through the thick growth of brush, half slid and half plunged down a steep declivity and halted in the middle of the hard, worn road where he drew a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his face and consulted a huge silver watch.

"Quarter past ten and I sure ought to be in time for the down stage. It's seven miles from our camp here by this short cut, and I've done it in one hour and a half, and I win five from Goliath, and then from Hank," he muttered, after which he grinned cheerfully, rolled a cigarette, and planted himself in an attitude of repose on a roadside boulder. He took from his pocket a tiny parcel, unwrapped the newspaper protecting it and scanned the inscriptions on a half dozen letters as if to reassure himself that all had been correctly addressed, after which, for lack of anything further to do he sat and idly stared at the enormous panorama of mountains, forests, ravines and ca?ons that were visible from his perch and which formed a portion of the back edge of the Big Divide. The stillness was so profound that even the trees had lost their almost inaudible whispering and his ears, finely attuned to nature, could distinguish the faint murmuring of the river that, hundreds of feet below, cheerily and busily made its way over and between myriad boulders. For fully fifteen minutes he sprawled listlessly before he lifted his head and listened attentively with his face turned up the white, stony highway.

"Here she comes," he commented, and straightened himself, arose from the boulder and walked into the middle of the road where he stood waiting to intercept the oncoming vehicle. The noise grew louder, gained a crescendo of sound made up of clattering hoofs, a driver's voice admonishing his horses, and the screeching of brake shoes grinding on iron tires, and then the down stage swung round a bend and as the pedestrian waved his arms up and down came to a halt. The driver was using heavy-weather language and beside him on the box a man who had lifted a sawed-off shotgun lowered it with a grunt and stared downward.

"Lord Almighty! David, we didn't recognize you any too soon!" he exclaimed.

"And that's the truth," growled the driver, shifting in his seat. "You certainly did pick a mighty dangerous spot to flag us this time."

"Why, what's the matter with you fellers anyhow?" David demanded. "One of you grabs leather and the other a gun as if you thought you were about to be held up and was ready to shoot on sight."

The driver and the express messenger grinned at each other and the latter rested his shotgun between his legs and as he reached for tobacco remarked, "Reckon you ain't heard the news, pardner. It's just two days ago since this same stage was stuck up almost on this exact spot. Right down there at the next bend, in fact, a hundred yards from here. I wasn't along, but Bill here had no chance to put up a fight. Road agent got away with the treasure box."

"Well, I'll be hanged!" David exclaimed as if incredulous. "Who'd of thought it! Reckon that's the first holdup around here for as much as ten years, ain't it? How much did the feller get away with?"

"Only one package with seventy-five hundred dollars in it," the messenger answered. "But the worst of it is the sheriffs don't seem to have any idea at all who did it. They came up here within two hours, scouted around down there at the point, picked up the robber's trail and followed it clean up to the bare top of the ridge, got another little patch of it a half mile farther along and followed it down into the road and there it was lost. The feller was simply turning back toward Wallula Camp and for all that anybody knows may be there right now."

"Didn't bother the passengers, eh?" David asked thoughtfully.

"Wasn't any, same as now," the driver informed him. "And this gink was wise enough, too, so that he didn't bother the United States mail. Didn't want Uncle Samuel on his train along with the express company's men and the regular officers, I reckon. But--by gosh! He knew how! Just like old times, it was! And me takin' no chances, either. You can bet your head on that!"

"I can, Bill! I can!" David agreed, with a sarcasm that was wasted on the knight of the ribbons. "But what I stopped you for was to get you to mail this package of letters for me when you get down to the other end. Reason I happened to come here was that it's just about seventeen miles less than carrying them into Wallula."

The messenger reached down and took the letters, the driver remarked that he must be "gittin' along" and then as he released the brake called over his shoulder facetiously, "If we get stuck up I'll hand these over too. Reckon they ain't worth as much as that seventy-five-hundred-dollar package the stick-up got and that had been shipped by Boss Shaughnessy! Haw! Haw! Haw!"

His laugh was drowned in the clattering of hoofs as the stage jumped forward, its wheels throwing up little clouds of dust and its momentum increasing as it reached the bend and disappeared around it. But David was left standing in the middle of the road with his mouth open and an expression of astonishment on his face.

"Shaughnessy--it was Tom Shaughnessy's money that was looted, eh? Wonder why he sent--hang it all! I'll bet there was something crooked in that holdup--just because it was Tom's money! I wonder if there was real money in that package? Yes, of course there must have been, because the express agent wouldn't have taken it on the blind. Um-um! Wonder if somebody who had been robbed by Shaughnessy, or some of his gang, didn't know it was being shipped and played even?"

He thought of the numerous crooked deals and gouges perpetrated by the boss of Wallula and his associates, all of whom had once been driven from the camp of Sky Gap by the more reputable citizens, and of the longstanding feud between this gang, himself, his lifelong partner Goliath, and his new partner Hank Mills, and grinned cheerfully as he thought, "Well, if any poor cuss has played even with Shaughnessy he's got my support. Luck to him!"

After again consulting his watch David leisurely struck back from the road, taking to the hillside in nearly the same place from which he had emerged, and climbed upward toward the crest. He paused after a few minutes and looked back toward the road that now lay considerably below and again his mind worked round the incident of the stage robbery.

"That would be the right place down there," he ruminated as his keen gray eyes scanned the white line that wound beneath. "And a man standing here would have had a grand-stand seat all to himself to watch the whole show. Or, if the chap that turned that trick had wanted to find a place to have a good look at the stage before he held it up he could have stood here, seen her as she came around that stretch up above, and then have had time to get down to that point and throw his gun on Bill as she came round that bend."

As if this thought proved interesting David began to scan the brush and ground near by and almost instantly stopped in an attitude of surprise and whistled a note of astonishment; for all unexpectedly he had blundered on to a place where a man evidently had rested for some time. Had David been asked if he were an expert trailer he would probably have denied such craft; but Goliath, his huge partner, would have asserted that there was no man on all that great range who could "read sign" like this same wiry, alert, active, ferret-eyed man who now began moving around in a bent attitude peering at every impression in the earth, at every crushed bunch of grass, and at every broken twig of brush. David seemed actually exultant when he found a stump of a cigar which had been chewed as if nervous teeth had worked upon it long after its fire had expired. A minute later he found the gaudy band, frowned at it for a time, and then put it into his pocketbook, wrapped the cigar in his handkerchief, pocketed that also, and resumed his search. He paused over each footprint and again brightened when he found one in a patch of moist earth and sand that was clear and distinct. He got to his hands and knees and taking an old letter from his pocket carefully cut it out into an exact pattern of the footmark and with a stub of a pencil marked thereon every nail, noting little peculiarities of position as well as the fact that on the heel there was the imprint of a small iron plate almost new.

"That right boot heel was old, and the man had the plate put on because the heel was beginning to run over a little bit," David muttered. "Maybe he was a little bowlegged. Anyhow, he treads heavier on the outer edge of his heel than on the ball of his hoof. Must find a mark of his left foot that's clear." He continued his trailing. Finally this search was rewarded and again he paused and made another pattern, reasoning as he did so, "Nope, the man wasn't bowlegged, and the left heel had no plate and so doesn't wear off like the right. That shows that most likely he hits the right heel harder because he either limps a little or has had that right leg or foot hurt some time so that it steps just a trifle different from the other one. One thing is sure; he's a heavy man, and those marks were made by a town man's shoes and not by any miner's brogans or boots."

Yard by yard he followed the telltale trail until he had worked it out thoroughly in his own mind that the unknown man had been restless and moved about somewhat aimlessly as if his wait and watch had lasted for some time. Then came another discovery, that the man had seated himself or crouched down behind a heavy clump of brush and remained there for some time, occasionally with restless movements as if intensely interested in observing something while at the same time taking precautions to remain in hiding. David had put himself into the same position and found that he could look through small openings in the brush which had been made larger by hands twisting off one or two of the branches, and that he had an exact bird's-eye view of the spot in the road where the stage robbery had taken place. On making this discovery David once more uttered a tiny whistle and mused, "Uh-huh! That's the way, eh? There were two of them in it instead of one, as Bill, the driver, and the deputy sheriffs think. Maybe the one up here had a rifle beaded down on the stage all the time so that if it came to any sort of a show-down he could pot Bill or bring down a horse to make the game certain."

He devoted some time to seeking the marks where a rifle butt might have been rested and was disappointed because he could find nothing to bear out his reasoning. He still hoped to find some such indication, as he had made a complete detour and picked up the trails where the watcher had come and gone. They led away to the road below at a long angle and, proving that patience with keenness has its reward, David now made another most important find. It was nothing less than a coin watch charm with the few links connecting it to the chain from which it had been broken, at sight of which David's eyes widened as if he had found something unbelievable.

"Lord! Who'd of thought it! Wish Goliath or Hank was here with me so that if it comes to a show-down I could have a witness to prove that I did find this thing, and that it was here that I found it," he muttered aloud, and at the sound of his own voice looked around as if startled, then after putting the charm and piece of chain in his pocketbook, carefully marked the spot where he had found them by notching the bottom of some brush with his pocketknife. He resumed the trail which led him down into the main road where still another cause for conjecture was exposed. This was that the trail had debouched almost exactly at a point where a smaller road branched off into the hills. This road David recognized as a private one that led to the Calora Mine, distant about two miles. The trail was lost, but David, now as keen as a bloodhound on a chase, turned off into the private road and followed it for some distance in the hope of again finding imprints of the crooked boot heel, but without success. He finally gave this up and was returning to the main road when he made another discovery and brightened eagerly.

He broke off and scanned the hard earth, rocks and dust inch by inch for a long time, and betrayed his disappointment when again he mentally commented. "Can't be sure about it. Maybe I'm imagining it. Everything so faint and beaten out; but it does seem to me that this buggy was driven up here off the main road, stopped, tied, stuck here for some time, then was turned round and driven back. The marks of the horse's fore hoofs show that, and look as if they might have been made just about two days ago, or--say--at about the same time the footprints I followed were made. If that's so, it accounts for a lot of things, and I dope it out about this way: Two men drove here and separated. One of them went straight back down the road, held up the stage, and after the job was done, slid up the hillside to throw Bill off the scent; then after Bill and the stage had gone made his way back into the main road and finally returned here to the buggy. When the two who did the job first separated the man with the iron on his heel went and climbed up to that spot where he could watch and from which, if it came to a show-down, he could shoot. He didn't have to shoot, and probably made a bolt for it as soon as the stage had made a get-away, after which he also went down to the road and then back up here. The job was done and all the two men had to do was to drive away. The sheriff's posse, taking Bill's word that there was but one man, naturally picked up but one trail, followed it to where it came to the main road and was lost, and so entirely missed the trail left by the watcher a hundred yards away. Now which way did that buggy go and who was in it? It's my guess that I know one of the men that was in it and that it went straight back to Wallula where it came from, and from where it started probably mighty early on that same morning. Ought I to get word to the sheriff right away, or ought I to wait a day or two and see what turns up?"

For a long time he debated this and then made his decision for the latter alternative, after which he again took to the hills to return to his and his partners' claim and cabin.

Six days slipped away with the three partners waiting to hear any news concerning the stage robbery, chuckling over the information received in a roundabout way that no further developments had taken place, before the spell was broken by the chance arrival of a lank prospector from Wallula Camp who was invited to pass the night. He came opportunely as the partners were seating themselves for supper and Mrs. Hank Mills was cheerfully placing the food on the table. And almost the first question that he was asked was whether the deputy sheriffs had succeeded in learning who had "collared Shaughnessy's package."

"They have," he replied, an answer which caused all three of his male auditors to pause and look at him.

"And who was it, Tim?" David urged when the visitor showed signs of preferring food to recountal.

"Why, it was a chap named Ray. Tom Ray, I think his whole name is. Sort of a tenderfoot, so the boys say, although I don't know him pussonally. Comes from back in Iowa, or some of the corn States, and the pore durned fool must have got sort of discouraged because he hadn't found no pay streak up on Torren's Gulch where he had a claim, and is so hard up he has to beg for credit to get even some beans and sow belly and--well--does a fool thing! Goes and sticks up the stage and--What do you think! You'd never guess how they came to nail him! No siree! Not in a hundred years! That's what they calls the mysterious circumstances!"

"What? What's that? New bills, you say?" David exclaimed. "Then he must have got 'em from some bank, and the only bank in Wallula is one he's not friendly with, because we all know he had a row with the manager when it opened because said manager wouldn't play in on the Shaughnessy game. Besides, since when does any one suppose Tom Shaughnessy's a careful enough business man to take down the numbers on bills he's going to ship out by express?"

"Don't know about all that, but I'm just tellin' you what I heard and what's common talk about the camp."

Goliath, big, phlegmatic, and apparently wholly occupied with his food, lifted his dark eyes slowly and after waiting to see whether any one else had questions to ask or information to volunteer inquired, "Did you say this fellow Ray is working up on Torren's Gulch?"

"Yes. They say he's got a prospect up there."

"And he hadn't struck pay?"

"Not that any one knows of."

Goliath resumed his meal and it was not until the conversation had again died away that he again offered an interrogation.

"Tim, didn't Charley Evans have a claim on Torren's Gulch, one time, a while ago? You ought to know that country. You were up there a while back."

"Him? Charley Evans, you say? Sure, he had a claim up there. Number Four above; but he sold out to Pinder. Got a thousand dollars for it and I told him at the time I thought he was either lucky or a fool. Pinder's got Number Three, too, come to think of it. And that makes me think of another thing, Shaughnessy's got Number One and Two below and, if I'm not off my reckonin', this chap Ray must have owned Number One above on the gulch. I don't know who owns Discovery and Number Two above but I think it's a man named MacPharlane, or something like that."

He had his eyes on his plate, hence did not see the start of surprise or the scowl that crept over David's face, nor the exchange of swift glances between David and Goliath. And suddenly, as if to divert the conversation, David began to talk volubly of something else. It was not until their guest had gone to his blankets and the partners were left alone that night that Goliath remarked, "Guess you're thinkin' about the same as I am, ain't you, Davy--that there's something fishy about that Ray deal, and that perhaps it was wise not to show too much interest or ask too many questions out there at the supper table?"

"You've got it, Goliath," came the prompt reply. "And to-morrow you and I are going to take a long trip. Clear down to the county seat and to the county jail. If I'm not off that young feller Ray needs help about as badly as anybody ever did. It's up to us to give it. Hank can stay here at the mine and keep things going till we get back and--maybe lie to anybody who comes along as to where we have gone. Get me?"

"Got you," said Goliath, and then, "Good night."

The lank prospector might have been surprised on the following morning had he known that within an hour after his departure David and Goliath were driving away over the hills in the opposite direction in a creaking old buckboard behind a pair of fat mules that philosophically and leisurely trotted as if they had knowledge of a long journey ahead.

It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when the partners left their mules in a feed stable, brushed the dust from their clothes, and after a brief stop at a restaurant presented themselves at the county jail and asked for the sheriff. And the sheriff, being an old friend of theirs, granted their request for permission to interview his prisoner and as a further evidence of confidence gave them the use of his private office.

"I've got just one condition, David," he said, "and that is that if you hear of anything I'd ought to know you'll tell me. Because, between us three, I can't get this thing quite straight in my own mind, and if this young chap Ray is a criminal my judgment of human nature isn't worth a cuss any more. I can't make myself believe, in spite of the fact that we've got him shut up, that he held up that stage; and that's the honest-to-God truth!"

Ray was brought into the office and started in surprise when he recognized his visitors. He had the look of a helpless and hunted animal and when David and Goliath thrust out their hands and said, "No use in asking questions, because we've come to help you," threatened to break down. At first he could tell them nothing that they did not already know and made the same protestations of ignorance and innocence that had been made at the time of his arrest.

"We've heard all that and believe you," David said at last. "But what we want to learn--who are your enemies?"

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