AUNT JANE'S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN
Continued....
CHAPTER XII
CAPTURED
"Welcome to Hades!" cried a stout little man in a
red blouse, sticking
his leering countenance through the door of the
limousine.
"Shut up, Stubby," commanded a hoarse voice from the
group. "Haven't
you any manners? You haven't been introduced yet."
"I've engaged the dark eyed one for the first
dance," persisted
Stubby, as a dozen hands dragged him away from the
door.
The Major sprang out and confronted the band.
"What are we to understand by this outrage?" he
demanded fiercely.
"It means you are all invited to a party, and we
won't accept any
regrets," replied a laughing voice.
Patsy put her head out of the window and looked at
the speaker. It was
Mr. Algernon Tobey. He had two strips of sticking
plaster over his
nose. One of his eyes was swollen shut and the other
was almost
closed. Yet he spoke in a voice more cheerful than
it was when they
first met him.
"Don't be afraid," he added. "No one has the
slightest intention of
injuring any of you in any way, I assure you."
"We have not the same intention in regard to you,
sir," replied Major
Doyle, fuming with rage, for his "Irish was up," as
he afterward
admitted. "Unless you at once remove that barricade
and allow us to
proceed we will not be responsible for what happens.
You are warned,
sir!"
Uncle John, by this time standing beside the Major
upon the ground,
had been quietly "sizing up the situation," as he
would have expressed
it. He found they had been captured by a party of
fourteen men, most
of whom were young, although three or four,
including Tobey, were
of middle age. The atmosphere of the place, with its
disorderly
surroundings and ill kept buildings, indicated that
Hades Ranch was
bachelor quarters exclusively. Half a dozen Mexicans
and one or two
Chinamen were in the background, curious onlookers.
Mr. Merrick noted the fact that the remittance men
were an unkempt,
dissipated looking crew, but that their faces
betokened reckless good
humor rather than desperate evil. There was no doubt
but most of
them were considering this episode in the light of a
joke, and were
determined to enjoy the experience at the expense of
their enforced
guests.
Uncle John had lived many years in the West and knew
something of
these peculiar English exiles. Therefore he was
neither frightened
nor unduly angry, but rather annoyed by the
provoking audacity of the
fellows. He had three young girls to protect and
knew these men could
not be fit acquaintances for them. But he adopted a
tone different
from the Major's and addressed himself to Tobey as
the apparent leader
of the band.
"Sir," he said calmly but with pointed emphasis, "I
believe you were
born a gentleman, as were your comrades here."
"You are right," answered Tobey. "And each and every
one you see
before you has fallen from his former high
estate--through no fault
of his own." This may have been a sarcasm, for the
others laughed in
boisterous approval. "In some respects we are still
gentlemen," Tobey
went on, "but in others we are not to be trusted. Be
reasonable,
sir--I haven't the faintest idea who you are or what
your name is--and
consider calmly our proposition. Here we are, a
number of young
fellows who have seen better and happier days,
living alone in the
midst of an alkali desert. Most of us haven't seen a
female for
months, nor a lady for years. Why, last fall Stubby
there rode eighty
miles to Buxton, just to stand on a corner and see a
lot of greasy
Mexican women go by. We tire of exclusive male
society, you see. We
get to bore one another terribly. So here, like a
visitation from
heaven, three attractive young ladies descend upon
us, traveling
through our domain, and having discovered their
presence we instantly
decided to take advantage of the opportunity and
invite them to an
impromptu ball. There's no use refusing us, for we
insist on carrying
out our plan. If you men, perhaps the fathers of the
young ladies,
behave reasonably, we will entertain you royally and
send you on your
way rejoicing. Won't we, boys?"
They shouted approval.
"But if you oppose us and act ugly about this fete,
gentlemen, we
shall be obliged to put a few bullets into you, and
decide afterward
what disposition to make of the girls. About the
best stunt we do is
shooting. We can't work; we're too poor to gamble
much; but we hunt
a good bit and we can shoot straight. I assure you
we wouldn't mind
losing and taking a few lives if a scrimmage is
necessary. Eh, boys?"
"That's right, Algy," said one, answering for the
others; "we'll have
that dance if we die for it--ev'ry man Jack of us."
Myrtle was trembling in her corner of the limousine.
Beth sat still
with a curl on her lips. But Patsy was much
interested in the
proceedings and had listened attentively to the
above conversation.
Now the girl suddenly swung open the door and sprang
out beside her
father, facing the group of cowboys.
"I am Patricia Doyle," she said in a clear voice,
"and these
gentlemen," indicating the Major and Mr. Merrick,
"are my father and
my uncle. You understand perfectly why they object
to the arrangement
you suggest, as any one of you would object, had you
a daughter in
a like position. But you are arbitrary and not
inclined to respect
womanhood. Therefore but one course is open to
us--to submit under
protest to the unwelcome attentions you desire to
thrust upon us."
They listened silently to this frank speech, and
some of their faces
wore crestfallen expressions by the time she had
finished. Indeed,
one of the older men turned on his heel and walked
away, disappearing
among the buildings. After a brief hesitation a
delicate young
fellow--almost a boy--followed this man, his face
flaming red with
shame. But the others stood their ground.
"Very good, Miss Doyle," remarked Tobey, with forced
cheerfulness.
"You are quite sensible to submit to the inevitable.
Bring out your
friends and introduce them, and then we'll all go in
to luncheon and
prepare for the dance."
"I won't submit to this!" cried the Major, stamping
his foot angrily.
"Yes, you will," said Uncle John, with a motion
preventing his irate
brother-in-law from drawing a revolver, "Patsy is
quite right, and we
will submit with as much dignity as we can muster,
being overpowered
by numbers."
He beckoned to Beth, who stepped out of the car and
assisted Myrtle
to follow her. A little cheer of bravado had arisen
from the group,
inspired by their apparent victory; but when
Myrtle's crutches
appeared and they saw the fair, innocent face of the
young girl who
rested upon them, the shout died away in a hush of
surprise.
"This is my cousin, Elizabeth De Graf," announced
Patsy, with cold
deliberation, determined that the proprieties should
be observed in
all intercourse with these people. "And I present
our friend, Myrtle
Dean. Under ordinary circumstances I believe Myrtle
would be excused
from dancing, but I suppose no brute in the form of
a man would have
consideration for her infirmity."
This time even Tobey flushed.
"You've a sharp tongue, Miss Doyle, and it's liable
to lead you into
trouble," he retorted, losing for the moment his
suave demeanor. "We
may be brutes--and I imagine we are--but we're not
dangerous unless
provoked."
It was savagely said, and Uncle John took warning
and motioned Patsy
to be silent.
"Lead the way, sir," he said. "Our chauffeur will of
course remain
with the car."
Wampus had kept his seat, motionless and silent. He
only nodded in
answer to Mr. Merrick's instructions and was
entirely disregarded by
the remittance men.
The man called "Stubby," who had a round,
good-humored face, stepped
eagerly to Myrtle's side and exclaimed: "Let me
assist you, please."
"No," she said, shaking her head with a wan smile;
"I am quite able to
walk alone."
He followed her, though, full of interest and with
an air of deep
respect that belied his former actions. Tobey,
content with his
present success, walked beside Mr. Merrick and led
the procession
toward the ranch house. The Major followed, his tall
form upright, his
manner bellicose and resentful, with Beth and Patsy
on either side of
him. The remittance men followed in a straggling
crowd, laughing and
boisterously talking among themselves. Just as they
reached the house
a horseman came clattering down the road and all
paused involuntarily
to mark the new arrival. The rider was a handsome,
slim young fellow,
dressed as were the other cowboys present, and he
came on at a
breakneck speed that seemed only warranted by an
errand of life and
death.
In front of him, tied to the saddle, appeared a huge
bundle, and as
the horse dashed up to the group standing by the
ranch house the rider
gracefully threw himself off and removed his hat
with a sweeping
gesture as he observed the young ladies.
"I've got him, Algy!" he cried merrily.
"Dan'l?" asked Tobey.
"Dan'l himself." He pointed to the bundle, which
heaved and wriggled
to show it was alive. "He refused to come willingly,
of course; so
I brought him anyhow. Never yet was there a fiddler
willing to be
accommodating."
"Good for you, Tim!" shouted a dozen voices. And
Stubby added in his
earnest way; "Dan'l was never more needed in his
life."
Tobey was busy unwinding a long lariat that bent the
captive nearly
double and secured him firmly to the panting horse.
When the bonds
were removed Dan'l would have tumbled prone to the
ground had not
willing hands caught him and supported him upon his
feet. Our friends
then observed that he was an aged man with a face
thickly furrowed
with wrinkles. He had but one eye, small and gray
and very shrewd in
expression, which he turned contemptuously upon the
crowd surrounding
him. Numb and trembling from his cramped position
upon the horse and
the terrible jouncing he had endured, the fiddler
could scarcely stand
at first and shook as with a palsy; but he made a
brave effort to
control his weakness and turned smilingly at the
murmur of pity and
indignation that came from the lips of the girls.
"Where's the fiddle?" demanded Tobey, and Tim
unhooked a calico bag
from the saddlebow and held it out. A laugh greeted
the gesture.
"Dan'l said he be hanged if he'd come," announced
Tim, with a grim
appreciation of the humorous side of the situation;
"so I hung him and
brought him along--and his fiddle to boot. But don't
boot it until
after the dance."
"What do you mean, sir, by this rebellious
attitude?" questioned
Tobey, sticking his damaged face close to that of
the fiddler.
Dan'l blinked with his one eye but refused to
answer.
"I've a good mind to skin you alive," continued the
leader, in a
savage tone. "You'll either obey my orders or I'll
throw you into the
snake pit."
"Let him alone, Algy," said Tim, carelessly. "The
old scoundrel has
been tortured enough already. But I see we have
partners for the
dance," looking critically at the girls, "and I
claim first choice
because I've brought the fiddler."
At this a roar of protest arose and Tobey turned and
said sullenly:
"Come in, all of you. We'll settle the order of
dancing later on."
The interior of the ranch house was certainly
picturesque. A great
living room ran all across the front, with an
immense fireplace
built of irregular adobe bricks. The floor was
strewn with skins of
animals--mostly coyotes, a few deer and one or two
mountain lions--and
the walls were thickly hung with weapons and
trophies of the chase.
A big table in one corner was loaded with bottles
and glasses,
indicating the intemperate habits of the inmates,
while on the chimney
shelf were rows of pipes and jars of tobacco. An
odor similar to that
of a barroom hung over the place which the air from
the open windows
seemed unable to dissipate.
There were plenty of benches and chairs, with a long
mess table
occupying the center of the room. In a corner was an
old square piano,
which a Mexican was trying to dust as the party
entered.
"Welcome to Hades!" exclaimed Tobey, with an absurd
gesture. "Be good
enough to make yourselves at home and I'll see if
those devils of
Chinamen are getting luncheon ready."
Silently the prisoners sat down. The crowd poured in
after them and
disposed themselves in various attitudes about the
big room, all
staring with more or less boldness at the three
girls. Dan'l the
fiddler was pushed in with the others and given a
seat, while two or
three of the imitation cowboys kept guard over him
to prevent any
possible escape. So far the old man had not
addressed a word to
anyone.
With the absence of the leader the feeling of
restraint seemed to
relax. The cowboys began whispering among themselves
and chuckling
with glee, as if they were enjoying some huge joke.
Stubby had placed
himself near the three young ladies, whom he eyed
with adoring
glances, and somehow none of the prisoners regarded
this childish
young fellow in exactly the same light as they did
his comrades. Tim,
his attitude full of grace as he lounged against a
settle, was also
near the group. He seemed a bit thoughtful since his
dramatic arrival
and had little to say to anyone.
Mr. Merrick engaged Stubby in conversation.
"Does Mr. Tobey own this place?" he asked.
"By proxy, yes," was the reply. "It isn't in his
name, you know,
although that doesn't matter, for he couldn't sell
his desert ranch if
he had a title to it. I suppose that is what his
folks were afraid
of. Algy is the fourth son of old Lord Featherbone,
and got into a
disgraceful mess in London some years ago. So
Featherbone shipped
him over here, in charge of a family solicitor who
hunted out this
sequestered spot, bought a couple of thousand acres
and built this
hut. Then he went home and left Algy here to keep up
the place on a
paltry ten pounds--fifty dollars--a month."
"Can he manage to do that?" asked Uncle John.
"Why, he has to, you see. He's got together a few
cattle, mostly
stolen I imagine; but he doesn't try to work the
land. Moreover he's
established this community, composed of his
suffering fellow exiles,
the secret of which lies in the fact that we work
the cooperative
plan, and all chip in our remittances to boil the
common pot. We can
keep more servants and buy more food and drink, that
way, than if each
one of us lived separately."
"Up in Oregon," said Mr. Merrick, "I've known of
some very successful
and prosperous ranchmen among the remittance men."
"Oh, we're all kinds, I suppose, good and bad,"
admitted Stubby. "This
crew's mostly bad, and they're moderately proud of
it. It's a devil
of a life, sir, and Hades Ranch is well named. I've
only been here a
month. Had a little property up North; but the
sheriff took it for
debt, and that forced me to Algy, whom I detest. I
think I'll move on,
before long. But you see I'm limited. Can't leave
Arizona or I'll get
my remittance cut off."
"Why were you sent here into exile?" asked Myrtle
artlessly.
He turned red and refused to meet her eyes.
"Went wrong, Miss," he said, "and my folks wouldn't
stand for
it. We're all in the same boat," sweeping his arm
around, "doing
punishment for our misdeeds."
"Do none of you ever reform?" inquired Patsy.
"What's the use? We're so far away from home no one
there would ever
believe in our reformation. Once we become outcasts,
that's the end
of our careers. We're buried in these Western wilds
and allowed just
enough to keep alive."
"I would think," said Uncle John musingly, "that the
manly way would
be to cut yourself off entirely from your people at
home and go to
some city in the United States where honesty and
industry would win a
new name for you. Then you could be respected and
happy and become of
use to the world."
Stubby laughed.
"That has been tried," he replied; "but few ever
made a success of it.
We're generally the kind that prefers idleness to
work. My family is
wealthy, and I don't mind taking from them what
little they give me
willingly and all that I can screw out of them
besides. I'm in for
life, as the saying is, and I've no especial
ambition except to drink
myself to death as soon as possible."
Patsy shuddered. It seemed a horrible thing to be so
utterly hopeless.
Could this young fellow have really merited his
fate?
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN
Continued....
 
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