The light was kept in the mess-hall long after time to finish eatin’; and we guessed they were tryin’ Promotheus, right while we were lookin’ on from above. All of a sudden, Olaf struck his palm with his fist, and exclaimed: “What a fool I have been! Those dogs remembered Promotheus, and he never patted ’em. I have patted ’em and spoke soothin’ words to ’em, and they would know me. I shall go down and listen.”
Now this was a noble thought and we hadn’t a word to say again’ it; so Olaf went back to camp, shed his boots and put on moccasins. Slim was a good shot with a rifle, so he staid with Horace, who had an elephant gun and a yearnin’ to use it, up on the cliff above the mouth o’ the ravine. They had seven rifles of one kind and another, and they thought they could make a disturbance if Olaf started anything. The rest of us went down the ravine to the last curve. We tried to get the Friar to stay behind; but his blood was up, and he wouldn’t heed us. We had it made up to rope and tie him hand and foot, when we were finally ready to wind things up with Ty Jones.
Olaf left us with his big, hard face set into rigid lines. He had a long score to settle with Ty Jones, and he had made a funny gruntin’ hum in his throat every few steps as we had walked down the ravine. We waited what seemed weeks; but the’ was no uproar, and finally, he came out o’ the gloom, and spoke to us in a whisper. We went back with him to the top o’ the path before he told us what he had heard.
He said they were tryin’ to make Promotheus confess who was back of him; but that Promotheus had steadily refused. He said ’at Ty had told him over and over that if he would tell him where he could lay hands on either the Friar or Dinky Bradford, he would give him a month to get out o’ the country himself; but Promotheus had stood firm, and they had shut him up in the workshop again, tellin’ him he would get nothin’ but water until he did confess.
This made us some easier in our minds. Promotheus had acted so worn out and done up since his return, that he had fooled Ty; and Ty looked upon him as a broke-down man, and nothin’ but a tool in the hands of some stronger men. Olaf said ’at Ty acted as though he thought the Friar had sent in a report to the government, and had got Bradford to come out here the time that Promotheus had disappeared; and in some way they had got word o’ Horace comin’ through Bosco this last time. Dixon had told about seein’ us at Skelty’s, and a strange feller told about bein’ shot at, the night Olaf’s cabin had been fired. They bunched all this together, and decided ’at the best thing to do was to trade Promotheus for Horace or the Friar, if it could be done. I had a chuckle all to myself, when I pictured Horace as he had been when I took him in hand, and now with the reputation he hadn’t quite earned, bein’ a worry to the Ty Jones outfit.
“I allus said they were cowards,” sez Horace, as soon as Olaf had finished his tale. “A man’s got an imagination, and as soon as he starts to live like a wolf, this imagination fills the world with watchdogs. Ty Jones never has fought in the open, and we’ll have no trouble with him as soon as we once get him on the run.”
“Ty Jones has no fear,” sez Olaf. “I know; I have seen with my own eyes. He is too clever to be trapped; but he has no fear.”
“Well, wait and see,” sez Horace.
Me and Tank kept watch on the cliff until mornin’ and then as nothin’ had happened, we went up to camp, and Slim and Dutch took watch at our regular look-out. As we sat down to breakfast, we noticed ’at the Friar was gone. Several spoke of him havin’ been restless the night before and not turnin’ in when the rest did. The Friar allus was unregular in his habits, especially at night; so we didn’t pay much heed to him when he wrote by the fire, or went off by himself in the quiet starlight, to sing some o’ the pressure off his heart; but at such a time as this, we anticipated him to be as circumspect as possible.
We started to hunt him up, but it didn’t take long. Horace found a note pinned to the Friar’s tarp, and the note told us that he had thought it all over careful durin’ the night, and had decided that his duty compelled him to go down and offer himself in exchange for Promotheus. He said that when things came to such a tangle that no human ingenuity could unmix ’em, it was time to put trust in a higher power; that it was for him that Promotheus had risked his life, and that he felt he must take his place, as Ty had promised to let Promotheus go if he would betray him. He said that he could not see any way to help the woman, and that if he lost his life, for us not to think of revenge, as it would all turn out for the best in some mysterious way. The Friar had gone through a lot durin’ the last few years, and it had finally undermined his patience. I knew just how he felt: he wanted something to happen which would end his suspense, and he didn’t care much what it was.