WEIR STRIKES WHILE THE IRON IS HOT
In his runabout, with Sheriff Madden at his side, and followed by Atkinson and half a dozen men for guards in two other machines, Weir sped along the road to San Mateo. They carried with them Burkhardt, who had been found stunned and slightly injured, and two Mexican bandits who had been captured. Those of the party of attackers yet alive but seriously hurt were being treated at camp by Dr. Hosmer, while the young engineers, armed and eager, were scouring the mountain side for the few Mexicans who had got away.
It seemed a miracle that Burkhardt had escaped death, but the explanation was found no doubt in the fact he had started from the spot where the canisters fell and so at the moment of explosion was outside the area of its full destruction. To Weir the matter went deeper than that. Providence appeared to have saved him for punishment, for the long term of imprisonment he deserved for his crimes.
“I’d much rather have him alive than dead,” Steele had remarked to Madden, when the man was brought up from the canyon a prisoner.
The tremendous thunder-clap of sound from the camp had quickened the return of the superintendent and his men, already reached and warned by the doctor. More, it had startled even the drunken workmen so that when some one shouted that the dam had been blown up the 262 debauch came to an immediate end, the house was deserted and the throng, incited by curiosity and wonder, went staggering and running for camp.
The first of these had arrived and the rest were tailing behind for half a mile when Weir and his companions set out for town, the blinding headlights of the machines scattering on either side of the road the approaching workmen. It was not likely many would go back to the house when they were told at headquarters how narrowly destruction of the works had been averted and how their spree had been a move in the plot. Between shame at being-duped and drowsiness resulting from drink they would, after a look at the hole blown in the earth at the base of the dam, want to seek their bunk-houses.
As they sped towards town Weir and Madden rapidly made their plans, for the sheriff having witnessed with his own eyes the enormity of the plotters’ guilt was all for quick action.
“These engineers of yours with us and the other men Meyers will bring down can be thrown as a guard around the jail,” he stated. “I’ll swear them all in as deputies. With Sorenson and Vorse locked up along with Burkhardt––and I’ll throw Lucerio, the county attorney, in with them on the off chance he’s an accomplice––there will be high feeling running in San Mateo. As quick as I can make arrangements, we’ll take them to safe quarters elsewhere––to-night if possible, to-morrow at the latest, in fast machines. These men have friends, remember.”
“You’ve Burkhardt handcuffed; it might be well to gag him, too, for fear the crowd might make trouble if he yelled for help,” Weir replied.
“Yes, we’ll do that, though I think we can rush him 263 into the jail before anyone knows what’s happening.”
On the outskirts of town therefore the cars stopped. When Burkhardt, who had recovered his senses and with them a knowledge of his plight, perceived the sheriff’s intention his rage burst all bounds.
“You fool, you muddle-headed blunderer!” he exclaimed, with a string of oaths. “Take these cuffs off! You’ll lose your job for this trick. When I see Sorenson–––”
“When you see him, you’ll see him; and that will be inside a cell,” was the cool rejoinder. “I didn’t know you were a dynamiter and would-be murderer until to-night, but I watched you at work and saw you shoot twice at Weir.”
“You’ll unlock these, I say, here and now!” And the raging voice went off in a further stream of biting curses. “Look at me; I’m Burkhardt. You’re crazy to talk of throwing me in jail, with my influence and–––”
“Your influence be damned,” was the imperturbable answer. “You’ll have a long time in a penitentiary to see how much influence you have, if you don’t swing first.”
Burkhardt struggled fiercely for a moment against the steel bands about his wrists and the men who held him.
“No crook like this Weir shall ever send me behind bars, or any other man put me there. Wait till Sorenson and Vorse and Judge Gordon learn what you’re trying! Wait till they find out you’ve double-crossed us for this engineer! Wait till Gordon turns me loose with a habeas corpus, you’ll sweat blood for this night’s work, Madden!”
The sheriff shook out the red handkerchief with which he expected to bind the prisoner’s mouth.
“I’ll wait for a long time if I wait for Gordon to issue the writ,” he remarked. “Seeing that he’s dead.”
“Dead! You’re a liar, you sneaking cur; you can’t bluff me. And when I’m loose, if I don’t fill you full of lead it will be because–––”
But Burkhardt’s explanation was never finished on that point, for Madden whipped the rolled handkerchief over his mouth and quickly knotted it behind, shutting off the flow of seething vituperative speech. If looks could slay, those he received from the prisoner’s bloodshot maddened eyes would have dropped the sheriff in his tracks; as it was, they fell harmless against the law officer’s person.
“Things have changed sort of sudden, haven’t they, Burkhardt?” Madden stated, sardonically. “Never can tell what’s going to happen between supper and breakfast. Here I go out to serve a warrant on Weir, and instead I’m bringing you in for trying a low I.W.W. trick. Surprising cards a fellow sometimes gets on the draw.” With which he went back to the other car.
Counting on quickness for the safe delivery of his men in jail, Madden did not attempt to approach the court house by a side street. On the contrary he drove fast down the main way, with the other two cars following close, passing without pause through the crowd of Mexicans drawn forth in wonder at the booming report of the explosion that had sounded from the dam.
One could see that excitement was at a high pitch. With the rumors that all day had been in circulation, with later vague tales of the great debauch proceeding at the old ’dobe house half way up the road to camp, with the thunder-clap that had burst from the base of the mountains coming on top of all, every man, woman and child had run to the main street, where those in the 265 automobiles could see by wagging tongues and gesticulating hands that speculation was rife and curiosity afire.
“The talk this evening when I set out for your camp was that I expected to bring you in and hang you,” Madden said dryly, to the engineer. “Quite a crowd had come to town. Plain to see now that Burkhardt and his bunch had started the talk. I shouldn’t be surprised if there had been trouble had I arrested and locked you up. There are a few bad Mexicans around these parts that would do anything for money, and it’s evident from what’s happened that Sorenson’s gang was ready to go the limit. What I’m trying to figure out is where these fellows Burkhardt had with him up yonder came from.”
“I can tell you. From across the line. I’ve seen plenty just like them down there,” Weir affirmed. “Look at their hats and clothes––but you’ll be able to make them talk after a while. However, you won’t find any of them speaking English. Offer one of them some money and a trip home and he’ll give you the story quick enough, especially after you’ve thrown a scare into him. We can afford to let one go to get the facts.”
“You better keep out of sight after we have the men in the jail. Slip behind the jail to the rear of the yard, and when I’ve locked them up and told Atkinson what to do about keeping the people away from the building, I’ll join you there.”
“I understand,” Weir stated.
“And we can slip off and grab Vorse if he’s in his saloon and then Sorenson before any one knows what’s happening.”
“That’s right; don’t want the game spoiled now. Here we are.”
The cars had arrived at the gate before the courthouse. 266 Here, too, however, the crowd was densest, having gathered at the spot as if the roar of powder from the camp was an overture to Weir’s arrest and appearance. It had proved a prelude to his appearance, at any rate. The crowd perceived him with Madden and it believed him a prisoner even if not handcuffed and marched with a pistol at his head.
A profound silence at first greeted the party as it alighted. Madden, assisting Burkhardt to alight, pulled the man’s broad-brimmed hat low over his eyes to conceal his face from the revealing moonlight. A short struggle again ensued, but Burkhardt finally yielded to the pressure exerted by his companion guards.
A murmur of astonishment ran over the surrounding throng, each instant being augmented by the voices of others running to the place. Not only did it appear that the engineer was under arrest, but likewise others,––a handcuffed, gagged man and two sullen Mexicans, strangers to the community. Yet a number of the onlookers, possibly men with Vorse’s or Sorenson’s money in their pockets, shouted as the new-comers moved through the press:
“Killer, murderer! Hang him, shoot him!” And more voices began to join in the cry.
Clearly the intent was to stir up feeling in the crowd to a point where action against Weir would seem a spontaneous outbreak. Even women joined in the cry; curses followed; fists were shaken.
“Open up the way,” Madden ordered, as a surge of the crowd threatened to surround him and his party. In his hand, as if to emphasize his command, a six-shooter swung into view, sweeping to and fro and menacing the press of people.
The frightened men directly before the party struggled 267 to get out of line of the weapon, yielding suddenly a clear passage.
“Quick! Around the courthouse and back to the jail,” Madden exclaimed to those with him.
Pushing forward from the moonlight into the shade cast by the cottonwoods, they dragged their prisoners past the first building towards the low stout stone structure at the rear, half-illuminated and half-concealed by the patches of light and shade falling from the trees.
A minute later Madden whipped out his keys.
“Two men remain here at the door and don’t be afraid to show your rifles to that bunch,” he said. “In with you, Burkhardt; there’s a nice soft stone floor to sleep on. Keep those Mexican camp-burners covered, Atkinson, till I get the cells open. You, Weir, slip on back there in the shadow and wait for me.”
The engineer had taken but three steps into the gloom along the outside jail wall, glancing about to avoid any curious straggler of the crowd already hurrying around the court house towards the jail, when he heard a call. In the advance was a slim well-dressed Mexican, full in the moonlight and very important of bearing. The call was directed not at Weir but at Madden.
“You got him all right, sheriff?” he said.
“Yes. He came in with me,” was the answer.
“But who are these others?”
“Step inside and I’ll tell you, Lucerio.”
The county attorney joined the sheriff, peered inside the doorway and hesitated. It was dark within; no light showed except a patch of moonlight at the far side of the building that fell through a barred window.
“Go right in,” Madden exclaimed. And laying hand on the other’s shoulder he forced him ahead. The door 268 closed after the pair. Before the doorway there remained, however, the pair of young engineers, rifle in hand, whose threatening bearing and glistening gun-barrels were apparent even in the patchy light dropping through the boughs. At a distance of about ten feet off the crowd of people halted, staring eagerly at the jail building, showing their white teeth as they carried on low talk in Spanish and awaiting with impatience the return of Madden and Lucerio that they might flood them with questions.
Weir remained to see no more, for the increasing crowd pushed out further and further on the flanks, a circumstance that would eventually result in his discovery. So slipping to the rear of the jail and keeping well in the shadows he gained the fence. This he leaped and, lighting a cigarette, examined his pistol, then proceeded to smoke calmly until Madden arrived.
“Hurry; slip away,” the latter said. “They wondered what the devil I dodged back here for and are coming, curious as cats.”
The two men glided away, keeping well in shadows until they gained the side street and thence passed to the main thoroughfare.
“What if Sorenson and Vorse are somewhere in that crowd?” Madden asked. “They’re likely to be, expecting your arrest.”
“Then we’ll have to wait till they leave it. But I don’t believe they’re there. They won’t want to show their hand even by being on the scene.”
“Probably they’ve found out Gordon is dead.”
“Probably. But on the other side, they suppose now that the dam has been destroyed and that I’m locked up,” Weir said. “Still, I’ll guess that if they’ve learned Pollock and Martinez and I were at Gordon’s all the 269 afternoon, and he committed suicide, they’ll be worrying some just the same.”
Madden glanced at his companion.
“I don’t believe we’ll bring Vorse in––alive,” he said.
“That’s the way I want him, and Sorenson, too. I want to see them go up for life, but if not that then hanged. But a life term for both, along with Burkhardt, is my choice. I want them to suffer as my father suffered. Only worse. Dying’s too easy for them. Let them have hell here for awhile before they get it on the other side. Let the iron bars and stone walls kill them. I hope they live for twenty years to gnaw out their hearts every day and every night behind steel doors. That wouldn’t half pay what they owe. But if they finish in prison, knowing there’s no hope, knowing I’ve put them there for what they did to my father and Jim Dent, knowing that all the money and cattle they stole had slipped through their fingers, that they’ve lost all they gained and more, that their curses and crimes are crushing their own heads, why, that will help. And Sorenson––Sorenson there every day knowing his son lies a helpless cripple, without the money that has been piled up for him! I couldn’t invent a worse hell for him. And that’s the hell he’s going to have!”
Though a man not easy to move, Madden at Weir’s cold implacable expression of hatred shivered slightly. Sorenson and his accomplices would be lucky indeed if they died by the rope.