“Four Kings!” exclaimed Bemis. “My God!”
Thus Bemis, a fugitive from justice and a long way from home, was “dead broke.” The game was abruptly ended. He had no more money, could borrow none, and must quit. He wandered out into the dark shadows of the adobe houses, and the thoughts which came to him were quite strong enough to sober him off. Here was, indeed, a pretty kettle of fish, and Bemis told Arnold that so great was his anguish that he had almost determined to free himself from it by committing suicide. Better counsel, however, prevailed, and he decided not only not to take his own life, but to make an effort to get back home, and when once arrived there, to surrender himself to the authorities.
He went to the hotel determined to go to bed and try to sleep the remainder of the night. But he was met at the counter by a refusal on the part of the clerk to turn over the keys of his room. He was then informed that he had not paid his bill, and that as he had no money he could get no further accommodations there. Thus was he robbed and turned loose penniless and to be persecuted by the man who had robbed him. He spent the remainder of the night walking about and thinking over his situation. He had not gone to the hotel for breakfast, because he had been forbidden to again enter the house. For the same reason he had gone without his dinner; but finding himself very hungry when supper time came on, he had decided to make an effort to steal in and get something to eat. This resolve he was trying to put into execution when he met Arnold and was arrested.
The fellow was really suffering from a fear that his life was not safe. In those days they could arrest and imprison a man for debt in New Mexico. He was satisfied that his late “host” would be only too glad to dispose of him in that way to get his mouth closed, and so informed Arnold.
Of course the officer promised every protection, and the promise had hardly been made before he was afforded an opportunity to fulfill it. The door of the room had been locked by the officer when he had entered with his prisoner. The story above related had hardly been finished when there came a loud rap on the door, in response to which Arnold demanded to know who was there.
“The proprietor of the house,” was the response.
“What do you want?”
“I want Jerome,” giving the name by which Bemis had gone in Santa Fe.
“Well, you can’t have him.”
A long parley ensued, but Arnold steadfastly declined to allow the hotel man to enter or to surrender Bemis to him. The fellow went away swearing vengeance. When he was well gone, Arnold began barring the door more securely than had been done before, and handing Bemis a pistol, told him to defend himself with it in case it should become necessary for him to do so, saying as he did so: