Seated on a bench at one end of the porch, was Tinnemaha Pete. Like a faithful dog grown old and purblind and helpless, he kept his rheumy eyes riveted on this youthful partner of his who was determined to keep his promise with the “keys of the penitentiary.” Never, never had Tinnemaha Pete felt so broken-hearted, so near death, so desperate. A dark, awful resolution had found a sanctuary in his fanatical old brain. In the back pocket of his voluminous overalls lay a loaded revolver.
“An’ they kin hang me after,” he murmured to himself, over and over. “An’ they kin hang me after. I’ve lived long enough—what? He ain’t. An’ they kin hang me after. Betcha life, they kin—an’ I’ll laugh at ’em.”
From the direction of the barn came the sounds of Lemuel’s hammer, restoring the ravages of the mob. He was unusually solemn and thoughtful. Presently he threw down the hammer and perched himself on the top rail of the corral and watched the road to Geerusalem.
The hours dragged by, heavy, tragic hours. Eight, nine, ten, eleven o’clock came and went. At half past eleven, an automobile suddenly made its appearance out of the far-away island of hills. It approached at a wild rate. The driver proved to be Lex Sangerly—alone. He brought the car to a stop, leaped out and dashed up to the front porch. Tinnemaha Pete got to his feet and one clawlike hand reached into his overalls pocket.
“Compliments from Sheriff Warburton,” cried Lex jubilantly. “He’s attending to some official business and couldn’t get here at the appointed hour. He asked me to deliver this message to Jerome Liggs.” He flourished a yellow sheet of paper, a telegram, which he read aloud as Lemuel came hurrying up:
“L. S. Sangerly, senior, Manager M. & S. R. R.
“Your wire relative to Billy Gee’s parole considered and approved. Withdrawal of charges against him by your company and your personal concern in his case make me feel keenly interested in his redemption. Your views are directly in line with my own. As you must know I am inaugurating the honor system in the penal institutions of this State. Kindest regards to yourself and family. I am informing the sheriff of San Buenaventura County of my action.
“Hiram Bronson, Governor,
“State of California.”
A hysterical cry of joy burst from Dot. Tinnemaha Pete dropped the revolver back into his pocket and staggered blindly to the bench and made curious, choking noises in his throat.
Later that day, while Lemuel sat smoking on the porch and grinning contentedly to himself, Billy Gee came out of the house and confronted him.
“Huntington!” he said shortly. “You reckillect that mornin’ I told you I was goin’ to pay you back for sellin’ me out to Sheriff Warburton?”
The rancher took his pipe from his mouth and stared soberly at the other. He did not reply.