For a moment, silence, then for answer came but the single word:
"Hermano."
When presently hands unclasped and others began to gather about him, it was seen as Stannard came forward he had linked his arm in that of Harris, and would not be denied. The general caught sight of them, and a smile like sunshine lighted up his beaming face. "That's right, Stannard. This way, Capitan Chiquito! We all want you." And then, though by dozens now—officers, agent, interpreter and territorial officials—they were swarming about the impassive central figure, they gave way right and left that the two friends might meet, and 'Tonio, turning from Archer's handclasp, saw his young champion and leader, and the stern, dark features melted, the bold, fearless, challenging eyes softened on the instant. He would have sprung forward to some act of Indian homage, but Harris was too quick and checked him. Their eyes met. Then both hands—all four hands—went out at once.
It was at this juncture, as certain of the department staff began to bethink themselves of important duties awaiting them at their offices, that one of the old-time characters of the old army, a field officer of distinction in the war days, was heard to express himself somewhat as follows: "Well, whereaway is Willett now?"—a question that had occurred to every member present, and to many a man and woman without the council, but this was its first audible expression.
"Willett," said the general calmly, yet in tone that all beneath the canopy could hear, "made known to me days ago that he desired to withdraw his accusation, but I had my reason for insisting. As to the question, where is Willett?—he is here to testify, if need be, before a civil court. We have still to settle with Sanchez."
Moreover, as the Indians finally moved away, Bright and Harris both escorting 'Tonio, there were emissaries of the agency at their heels, for in 'Tonio's train walked both Ramon and Alvarez, on whom it might be well to keep an eye.
But 'Tonio's trial—"'Tonio's triumph," as Blake declared it—was not yet over for the day. The watchspring saws and tiny file found on Sanchez, when finally taken, had explained the method of that McDowell escape. With these and with bacon-rind to grease them, only a little time and labor had been needed, nor was there ever found proof against Corporal Collins, or the sentry, that either had connived at the subsequent escape of 'Tonio. He had awakened and found his undesired cellmate missing, and the window was clear. So that way he could have gone, though there were many who believed the door itself had been opened to him. In any event, he saw freedom without, and suspected wrong and treachery within. Why should he not go? Who was to blame him? Crook's cordiality to the accountable officer of the day, Lieutenant Blake, went far to show that he was far from resentful of the result. It really looked as though the Gray Fox would rather 'Tonio had never been confined.
And later that winter's day, along toward sunset, another scene, far less dramatic and impressive, was enacted at the office of the sheriff, a mile away in town.
An adobe wall, some seven feet high, surrounded the corral, and beneath the canvas awning on the southern side certain offenders against the peace and dignity of Yavapai County had been assembled under the eye of tobacco-chewing deputies. There were the Sanchez half-brothers, 'Patchie and José, both shackled. There was Muñoz, similarly decked. There slouched Dago, unfettered, but carefully watched. There were two more of the riffraff of the redoubtable ghost ranch, and two of the victims of the more skilful play, and potent doping, of the proprietors. All were under surveillance, several under charges, but where was Case?
It was Blackbeard who answered that question at five o'clock, when, from the post ambulance, he and Bright sprang forth, and presently aided to alight a very solemn-looking civilian, shaved, dressed and groomed with extreme care, but for pallor and nervousness, a reputable-looking criminal—Case. Accused with assault with attempt to kill, the bookkeeper, none the less, had been taken in charge by officers of the army, with the entire consent of the officers of the law, and Sanchez the elder, José, that is, weakened at the sight of him. He was sober and clothed in his right mind, as Wickham meant he should be. Moreover, he looked no longer afraid. Case had met his master at the game of bluff, and now, with nothing left to hope, had nothing left to dread.