“Thanks for the machine, fellers. Noo York service I call it. Give my reegards to old Law an’ Order.”
Coates and Tyler emptied their six-shooters wildly at the car. Cursing frantically, they sprang in pursuit, loading and firing their weapons as they ran. But the machine, speeding on like the wind, whirled out of range and went on and on, plunging and careening over the uneven road, vanished into the vastness of the desert night.
“That squares us. You had your fling at him,” said Tyler to Coates.
CHAPTER XII—REPUTATIONS AT STAKE
Dot Huntington, though fascinated with Longwell Seminary on the one hand, scorned it on the other. As an institution of learning she believed it quite perfect, all that could be desired; but she resented its strict discipline, those rigid rules which deprived her of certain privileges which she had, with parental consent, enjoyed all her life, chiefly, the right to come and go unchaperoned whenever she wished and to read any book that pleased her fancy.
However, a sudden overwhelming appetite for education seized her, and this very readily reconciled her to the loss of her personal liberty, for while she inherited none of her father’s passion for culture, her ambition and pride were such as to impel her to set for her goal those high honors for which the seminary was noted. So, brought face to face with tomes of fact and instruction, she threw herself whole-heartedly into the task of mastering them in order to attain that grade of erudition which her age and matureness of mind made necessary. In order to bring this last about, Lemuel had made special arrangements that she take instructions from a private teacher in order that she might go more rapidly forward.
Again, displeased as she was with the institution’s system of discipline, she was deeply interested in its student body. She had never known the companionship of girls of her age before, and here there were scores of them, and not a few daughters of the most prominent families of the West. Having a prepossessing personality that attracted people to her, she made friends; and these vivacious newfound companions, added to the fascination with which her studies gripped her, contributed greatly in causing her to put aside that one haunting worry that had periodically harrassed her ever since she left Geerusalem, for she was still the unwilling custodian of the white-elephant fortune in bills. Mrs. Liggs had not arrived, nor had she answered Lemuel’s telegram for that matter. Dot could not imagine what had happened to their little old friend, on whom she depended to solve the problem for her.
Three days after Lemuel had wired Mrs. Liggs, asking her to come to San Francisco, they had given up hope of hearing from her. Considerably mystified, they had been finally driven into visiting the manager of one of the big stores and confessing that Dot was going to attend a select seminary and needed a complete wardrobe. As a result, Dot was now the proud possessor of as dainty and chic a collection of gowns, expensive lingerie, hats and shoes, as had been displayed in Longwell’s in more than a decade.
However, Mrs. Liggs’ strange absence and silence remained a mystery; and, as a consequence, the twenty thousand dollars remained wrapped in the old silk shawl in Dot’s room, which she shared with the daughter of a shipbuilder of Portland, Oregon. Yet, let it not be assumed that Dot was for one moment unmindful of the ultimate disposition of this money. On the contrary, she was determined that it should eventually find its way back to its rightful owners. The thing is, that her first nervousness had left her. Constant reflection on a subject of fearful moment in due time robs that subject of its alarms.
She now calmly reasoned that since Mrs. Liggs had failed her she would simply abide the coming of that hour when she could get up sufficient courage to write to the Mohave & Southwestern Railroad Company, telling them she had Billy Gee’s loot and explaining the entire situation in such a way as to protect herself from the possibility of subsequent newspaper notoriety. This, she made up her mind to do; and then suddenly, a day or two after, she remembered with a thrill of joy, Bob Warburton, her father’s friend. Why had she not thought of Warburton before? He was the very man who could and would return this ill-gotten treasure to its owners and in all probability even go so far as to withhold her name in the case.