CHAPTER III. LAW AND ORDER COME TO RAMAPO.
One morning the riotous, reckless, feverish town of Ramapo awoke to a new excitement. On a rude bulletin-board in front of the post-office, appeared a poster in large, clear letters. No one knew how it had come there. The post-office force had discovered it when “he” arrived to open up for the day.
Its message was brief and to the point:
To the People of Ramapo:
Law and Order are hereby declared in force. All men are warned that henceforth lawlessness will be met with swift punishment. Serious offenses will merit death. J.
Though the letters in all the rest of the notice were black, the “J” at the end was in bright-red. It was large, and set squarely in the center of the sheet. There was a quiet power in the single red character, an absence of bluster in the wording, that did not fail to have their effect. A large crowd quickly gathered. Men read the poster with serious faces, and questions flew thick and fast as to its origin and meaning. No one knew. No one could find out. Some openly scoffed. But the large J remained there, looking out at the crowd with a sort of calm and confident power!
Rumors sped from mouth to mouth and were expanded at every exchange. A vague uneasiness, a feeling that there was something in the wind and that the warning boded new and sinister experiences for the town, served for a time to throw a damper on its reckless gaiety.
Then a tall, thin miner forced his horse through the crowd, read the message, and broke into a loud guffaw. It seemed to relieve the situation. Several others laughed with him.
“Feller citizens,” said Wasp Williams, wheeling his horse and facing the crowd, “I begs to call your attention to this noble appeal which you sees behind me. You all knows the respect an’ esteem which I feels for them two contrivances, knowed as law an’ order! There ain’t nothin’ to compare with ’em! They offers refuge to tender feet an’ pertection to the weak-kneed. Them which is careless with language, but don’t hanker none to face the business end o’ these little toys us men is kind o’ partial to out here, cries for law an’ order like a baby for its bottle. They gotta have it so’s red-blooded he-men won’t decorate ’em with lead when they gits naughty. I’m in favor of it, by all means! But it strikes me, friends, as how this here notice shows a disconcertin’ lack o’ common ornamentation; and I figgers you’d be kind o’ pleased if I fixed it up pretty an’ attractive-like.”
He turned again, and drew both of his revolvers. With careless accuracy, he fired bullet after bullet into the sign. Twice he reloaded, and the flame leaped in a steady stream from the muzzles until the chambers were empty. Then he thrust them back. He took off his hat, made a jeering bow to the groups before him, and addressed them.
“As a leadin’ inhabitant o’ this here flourishin’ metropolis,” he remarked, “I has the honor to present my answer to the aforesaid warnin’.”
There was a shout, then a roar of laughter, from, the crowd. The tension was broken. Across the face of the notice the bullet-holes dearly traced the letters D-a-m! That was Williams’s version of the spelling of the word.
Another horse cantered up to the outskirts of the crowd. In the saddle was the straight, graceful figure of Jeanne Dudley. Seeing her, Williams made another mock bow and called to her across the heads of the men between them.
“We is celebratin’ the beginnin’ o’ law an’ order here in Ramapo,” he said. “P’r’aps you would like to git a glimpse o’ the announcement o’ this surprisin’ an’ gratifyin’ change. Boys, give way there a little an’ let the lady through.”
The crowd parted. The girl leisurely walked her horse nearer. Then she saw the bullet-holes in the poster and stopped. With a scornful glance at the man before her, she drew her own weapon and leveled it at the sign.
“Your spelling is rather poor,” she remarked coolly. “There is another letter in that word. Perhaps I can impress it on your memory better by using your own methods.”
The revolver cracked out six times, was quickly reloaded, and flashed again. Then the girl returned it to its holster, skillfully piloted her roan through the crowd, and trotted away.
Another burst of laughter and applause went up from the crowd. The missing “n” now appeared on the poster, and its even lines exhibited much more perfect shooting than had the letters stamped by the leaden markers of the Wasp. His triumph had been snatched away from him! Chagrined and flushing, he stood scowling after her.
“Got yuh that time, Wasp!” one of the men before him laughed.
Williams looked down from his horse upon the speaker, a small man notable for his very gray hair and his pleasant expression. The heavy, vertical lines between his eyebrows deepened.
“Mebbe so,” he answered; “mebbe so! But git this idear into that little think-organ o’ yourn, an’ plant it there; I’ll git her ’fore I’m done, an’ what I gits I keeps!”
“You got a full day’s work ahead o’ you, then! There ain’t no ‘fool’s gold’ about that girl!”
“Your tongue is too active for a feller o’ your size, stranger. Reckon you better be movin’!”
The little man paled, but his voice, when he replied, was even and unafraid.
“I never run from nobody yet, an’ I don’t figger to begin now.”
“No? Then stay, since you insists! An’ accept this little token o’ my esteem!”
The revolver of the Wasp darted from his hip, shot forward, and flashed once. The other staggered. He strove to keep his feet, but collapsed in the dust. A couple of bystanders carried him into the nearest house, while some one casually looked for a doctor. One of the bearers, a huge, powerful fellow, swore violently.
“The hound!” he growled. “He didn’t give little Peterson a chance!”
The other eyed the wounded man sympathetically. “Williams ain’t bothered with no sech scruples as that,” he said. “Besides, he’s been totin’ a grudge agin ‘Smiley’ here, an’ figgered this was a chance to git even.”
“How’s that?”
“Seems the little feller strayed into town a couple o’ days ago an’ showed some nuggets so big they nearly made the eyes o’ Wasp an’ his gang pop out. They tried to git him full an’ then find out where his claim is. But it didn’t work. The little man was too sharp for ’em.”
“Good for him! Hope he gits well an’ shoots the everlastin’ daylights out o’ that coyote!”
“He’ll git over it, all right. Ain’t nothin’ serious, I reckon. Guess the Wasp wasn’t tryin’ to kill him outright, ’cause then he’d never git to know where the little feller has planted his stakes! An’, if I was you, McCoy, I wouldn’t be too careless with them remarks. Funerals is too common in this town as it is!”
Outside, the momentary hush which had fallen upon the crowd was quickly lifted. Some shrugged their shoulders. Others laughed. One or two tried a few pot-shots at the red “J” for luck; and in a short while the town was about its haphazard business as indifferent, as unconcerned as ever.