“What on earth happened? We’ve all been plumb worried to death, and Madame Brook, she’s most crazy. I’ve just sent Fred up to the La Monte place to look for you.”
“La Monte place!” we exclaimed as several of the boys, attracted by Steve’s shout, came up. “Get on your horse,” said Owen, quickly, “and overtake him; there’s a madman up there.”
Steve did not wait for further instructions, but flung himself on his horse and tore off after Fred. We hurried in to reassure Owen’s mother, who was nearly frantic. Later, as she bade us “Good-night,” she said very seriously: “Owen, as soon as I am able I am going to Denver. I must be where it is quiet. I simply cannot stand the excitement here.”
As the rain began to fall in torrents, we heard the men who had been detailed to guard the La Monte place galloping off.
An itinerant tailor had pulled into the ranch just before our return, and was peacefully sleeping in his wagon. He was awakened when the horses were driven into the corral, and came out to learn the cause of the commotion. He was so excited when he heard that an insane person was in the vicinity he asked to sleep at the bunk house with the men. They tried to laugh him out of his fears, but his fright was so genuine they told him to “come on.”
The strangeness of the whole affair, the combination of circumstances and pure nervous and physical exhaustion kept Owen and me awake a long time. It seemed I had scarcely fallen asleep when I heard someone knock on the door and say:
“Mr. Brook, Mr. Brook.”
I recognized Mary’s voice, and responded for Owen, who was dead asleep.
“Mrs. Brook, the crazy man is down here at the corral; will you ask Mr. Brook to come out?”
It didn’t take Owen long to dress. It was about five o’clock, and from the window we could see poor old La Monte, still attired in his shirt, sitting in the door of the granary playing with a little cotton-wood switch.