And he acquitted17 himself nobly. He arrested a murderer the very day after his sureties were accepted, and although Charley was by far the smaller and paler of the two, the murderer submitted tamely, and dared not look into Charley's eye. Instead of scolding the delinquent18 tax-payers, the new sheriff sympathized with them, and the county treasury19 filled rapidly. The self-appointed "regulators" caught a horse-thief a week or two after Charley's installment21 into office, and were about to quietly hang him, after the time-honored custom of Western regulators, when Charley dashed into the crowd, pointed20 his pistol at the head of Deacon Bent, the leader of the enraged22 citizens, remarked that all sorts of murder were contrary to the law he had sworn to maintain, and then led the thief off to jail. The regulators were speechless with indignation for the space of five minutes—then they hurried to the jail; and when Charley Mansell, with pale face but set teeth, again presented his pistol, they astonished him with three roaring cheers, after which each man congratulated him on his courage.
In short, Bunkerville became a quiet place. The new sheriff even went so far as to arrest the disturbers of camp-meetings; yet the village boys indorsed him heartily23, and would, at his command, go to jail in squads24 of half a dozen with no escort but the sheriff himself. Had it not been that Charley occasionally went to prayer-meetings and church, not a rowdy at Bunkerville could have found any fault with him.
But not even in an out-of-the-way, malarious25 Missouri village, could a model sheriff be for ever the topic of conversation. Civilization moved forward in that part of the world in very queer conveyances26 sometimes, and with considerable friction27. Gamblers, murderers, horse-thieves, counterfeiters, and all sorts of swindlers, were numerous in lands so near the border, and Bunkerville was not neglected by them. Neither greenbacks nor national bank-notes were known at that time, and home productions, in the financial direction, being very unpopular, there was a decided30 preference exhibited for the notes of Eastern banks. And no sooner would the issues of any particular bank grow very popular in the neighborhood of Bunkerville than merchants began to carefully examine every note bearing the name of said bank, lest haply some counterfeiter29 had endeavored to assist in supplying the demand. At one particular time the suspicions had numerous and well-founded grounds; where they came from nobody knew, but the county was full of them, and full, too, of wretched people who held the doubtful notes. It was the usual habit of the Bunkerville merchants to put the occasional counterfeits32 which they received into the drawer with their good notes, and pass them when unconscious of the fact; but at the time referred to the bad notes were all on the same bank, and it was not easy work to persuade the natives to accept even the genuine issues. The merchants sent for the sheriff, and the sheriff questioned hostlers, liquor-sellers, ferry-owners, tollgate-keepers, and other people in the habit of receiving money; but the questions were to no effect. These people had all suffered, but at the hands of respectable citizens, and no worse by one than by another.
Suddenly the sheriff seemed to get some trace of the counterfeiters. An old negro, who saw money so seldom that he accurately33 remembered the history of all the currency in his possession, had received a bad note from an emigrant34 in payment for some hams. A fortnight later, he sold some feathers to a different emigrant, and got a note which neither the store-keeper or liquor-seller would accept; the negro was sure the wagon35 and horses of the second emigrant were the same as those of the first. Then the sheriff mounted his horse and gave chase. He needed only to ask the natives along the road leading out of Bunkerville to show him any money they had received of late, to learn what route the wagon had taken on its second trip.
About this time the natives of Bunkerville began to wonder whether the young sheriff was not more brave than prudent36. He had started without associates (for he had never appointed a deputy); he might have a long chase, and into counties where he was unknown, and might be dangerously delayed. The final decision—or the only one of any consequence—was made by four of the "regulators," who decided to mount and hurry after the sheriff and volunteer their aid. By taking turns in riding ahead of their own party, these volunteers learned, at the end of the first day, that Charley could not be more than ten miles in advance. They determined37, therefore, to push on during the night, so long as they could be sure they were on the right track.
An hour more of riding brought them to a cabin where they received startling intelligence. An emigrant wagon, drawn38 by very good horses, had driven by at a trot39 which was a gait previously40 unheard of in the case of emigrant horses; then a young man on horseback had passed at a lively gallop41; a few moments later a shot had been heard in the direction of the road the wagon had taken. Why hadn't the owner of the house hurried up the road to see what was the matter?—Because he minded his own business and staid in the house when he heard shooting, he said.
"Come on, boys!" shouted Bill Braymer, giving his panting horse a touch with his raw-hide whip; "perhaps, the sheriff's needin' help this minute. An' there's generally rewards when counterfeiters are captured—mebbe sheriff'll give us a share."
The whole quartet galloped42 rapidly off. It was growing dark, but there was no danger of losing a road which was the only one in that part of the country. As they approached a clearing a short distance in front of them, they saw a dark mass in the centre of the road, its outlines indicating an emigrant wagon of the usual type.
"There they are!" shouted Bill Braymer; "but where's sheriff? Good Lord! The shot must have hit him!"
"Reckon it did," said Pete Williamson, thrusting his head forward; "there's some kind of an animal hid behind that wagon, an' it don't enjoy bein' led along, for it's kickin' mighty43 lively—shouldn't wonder if 'twas Mansell's own pony44."
"Hoss-thieves too, then?" inquired Braymer; "then mebbe there'll be two rewards!"
"Yes," said Williamson's younger brother, "an' mebbe we're leavin' poor Charley a-dyin' along behind us in the bushes somewhere. Who'll go back an' help hunt for him!"
The quartet unconsciously slackened speed, and the members thereof gazed rather sheepishly at each other through the gathering45 twilight46. At length the younger Williamson abruptly47 turned, dismounted, and walked slowly backward, peering in the bushes, and examining all indications in the road. The other three resumed their rapid gallop, Pete Williamson remarking:
"That boy alwus was the saint of the family—look out for long shot, boys!—and if there's any money in this job, he's to have a fair share of—that is sheriff's horse, sure as shootin'—he shall have half of what I make out of it. How'll we take 'em, boys?—Bill right, Sam left, and me the rear? If I should get plugged, an' there's any money for the crowd, I'll count on you two to see that brother Jim gets my share—he's got more the mother in him than all four of us other brothers, and—why don't they shoot, do you s'pose?"
"P'r'aps ther ain't nobody but the driver, an' he's got his hands full, makin' them hosses travel along that lively," suggested Bill Braymer. "Or mebbe he hain't got time to load. Like enough he's captured the sheriff, an' is a-takin him off. We've got to be keerful how we shoot."
The men gained steadily on the wagon, and finally Bill Braymer felt sure enough to shout:
"Halt, or we'll fire!"
The only response was a sudden flash at the rear of the wagon; at the same instant the challenger's horse fell dead.
"Hang keerfulness about firin'!" exclaimed Braymer. "I'm a-goin' to blaze away."
Another shot came from the wagon, and Williamson's horse uttered a genuine cry of anguish48 and stumbled. The indignant rider hastily dismounted, and exclaimed:
"It's mighty kind of 'em not to shoot us, but they know how to get away all the same."
"They know too much about shootin' for me to foller 'em any more," remarked the third man, running rapidly out of the road and in the shadow caused by a tree.
"They can't keep up that gait for ever," said Bill Braymer. "I'm goin' to foller 'em on foot, if it takes all night; I'll get even with em for that hoss they've done me out of."
"I'm with you, Bill," remarked Pete Williamson, "an' mebbe we can snatch their hosses, just to show'em how it feels."
The third man lifted up his voice. "I 'llow I've had enough of this here kind of thing," said he, "an' I'll get back to the settlement while there's anything for me to get there on. I reckon you'll make a haul, but—I don't care—I'd rather be poor than spend a counterfeiter's money."
And off he rode, just as the younger Williamson, with refreshed horse, dashed up, exclaiming:
"No signs of him back yonder, but there's blood-tracks beginnin' in the middle of the road, an' leanin' along this way. Come on!"
And away he galloped, while his brother remarked to his companion:
"'Ef he should have luck, an' get the reward, you be sure to tell him all the good things I've said about him, won't you?"
Jim Williamson rode rapidly in the direction of the wagon until, finding himself alone, and remembering what had befallen his companions, he dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and pursued rapidly on foot. He soon saw the wagon looming49 up in front of him again, and was puzzled to know how to reach it and learn the truth, when the wagon turned abruptly off the road, and apparently50 into the forest.
Following as closely as he could under cover of the timber, he found that, after picking its way among the trees for a mile, it stopped before a small log cabin, of whose existence Jim had never known before.
There were some groans51 plainly audible as Jim saw one man get out of the wagon and half carry and half drag another man into the hut. A moment later, and a streak52 of light appeared under the door of the hut, and there seemed to be no windows in the structure; if there were, they were covered.
Jim remained behind a sheltering tree for what seemed two hours, and then stealthily approached the wagon. No one was in it. Then he removed his boots and stole on tiptoe to the hut. At first he could find no chink or crevice53 through which to look, but finally, on one side of the log chimney, he spied a ray of light. Approaching the hole and applying his eye to it, Jim beheld54 a picture that startled him into utter dumbness.
On the floor of the hut, which was entirely55 bare, lay a middle-aged56 man, with one arm bandaged and bleeding. Seated on the floor, holding the head of the wounded man, and raining kisses upon it, sat Bunker County's sheriff!
Then Jim heard some conversation which did not in the least allay57 his astonishment58.
"Don't cry, daughter," said the wounded man, faintly, "I deserve to be shot by you—I haven't wronged any one else half so much as I have you."
Again the wounded man received a shower of kisses, and hot tears fell rapidly upon his face.
"Arrest me—take me back—send me to State's prison," continued the man; "nobody has so good a right. Then I'll feel as if your mother was honestly avenged59. I'll feel better if you'll promise to do it."
"Father, dear," said the sheriff, "I might have suspected it was you—oh! if I had have done! But I thought—I hoped I had got away from the roach of the cursed business for ever. I've endured everything—I've nearly died of loneliness, to avoid it, and then to think that I should have hurt my own father."
"You're your mother's own daughter, Nellie," said the counterfeiter; "it takes all the pain away to know that I haven't ruined you—that some member of my wretched family is honest. I'd be happy in a prisoner's box if I could look at you and feel that you put me there."
"You sha'n't be made happy in that way," said the sheriff. I've got you again, and I'm going to keep you to myself. I'll nurse you here—you say that nobody ever found this hut but—but the gang, and when you're better the wagon shall take us both to some place where we can live or starve together. The county can get another sheriff easy enough."
"And they'll suspect you of being in league with counterfeiters," said the father.
"They may suspect me of anything they like!" exclaimed the sheriff, "so you love me and be—be your own best self and my good father. But this bare hut—not a comfort that you need—no food—nothing—oh, if there was only some one who had a heart, and could help us!"
"There is!" whispered Jim Williamson, with all his might. Both occupants started, and the wounded man's eyes glared like a wolf's.
"Don't be frightened," whispered Jim; "I'm yours, body and soul—the devil himself would be, if he'd been standin' at this hole the last five minutes. I'm Jim Williamson. Let me help you miss—sheriff."
The sheriff blew out the light, opened the door, called softly to Jim, led him into the hut, closed the door, relighted the candle and—blushed. Jim looked at the sheriff out of the top of his eyes, and then blushed himself—then he looked at the wounded man. There was for a moment an awkward silence, which Jim broke by clearing his throat violently, after which he said:
"Now, both of you make your minds easy. Nobody'll never find you here—I've hunted through all these woods, but never saw this cabin before. Arm broke?"
"No," said the counterfeiter, "but—but it runs in the family to shoot ugly."
Again the sheriff kissed the man repeatedly.
"Then you can move in two or three days," said Jim, "if you're taken care of rightly. Nobody'll suspect anything wrong about the sheriff, ef he don't turn up again right away. I'll go back to town, throw everybody off the track, and bring out a few things to make you comfortable."
Jim looked at the sheriff again, blushed again, and started for the door. The wounded man sprang to his feet, and hoarsely60 whispered:
"Swear—ask God to send you to hell if you play false—swear by everything you love and respect and hope for, that you won't let my daughter be disgraced because she happened to have a rascal7 for her father!"
Jim hesitated for a moment; then he seized the sheriff's hand.
"I ain't used to swearin' except on somethin' I can see," said he, "an' the bizness is only done in one way," with this he kissed the little hand in his own, and dashed out of the cabin with a very red face.
Within ten minutes Jim met his brother and Braymer.
"No use, boys," said he, "might as well go back, There ain't no fears but what the sheriff'll be smart enough to do 'em yet, if he's alive, an' if he's dead we can't help him any."
"If he's dead," remarked Bill Braymer, "an' there's any pay due him, I hope part of it'll come for these horses. Mine's dead, an' Pete's might as well be."
"Well," said Jim, "I'll go on to town. I want to be out early in the mornin' an' see ef I can't get a deer, an' it's time I was in bed." And Jim galloped off.
The horse and man which might have been seen threading the woods at early daybreak on the following morning, might have set for a picture of one of Sherman's bummers. For a month afterward61 Jim's mother bemoaned62 the unaccountable absence of a tin pail, a meal-bag, two or three blankets, her only pair of scissors, and sundry63 other useful articles, while her sorrow was increased by the fact that she had to replenish64 her household stores sooner than she had expected.
The sheriff examined so eagerly the articles which Jim deposited in rapid succession on the cabin-floor, that Jim had nothing to do but look at the sheriff, which he did industriously65, though not exactly to his heart's content. At last the sheriff looked up, and Jim saw two eyes full of tears, and a pair of lips which parted and trembled in a manner very unbecoming in a sheriff.
"Don't, please," said Jim, appealingly. "I wish I could have done better for you, but somehow I couldn't think of nothin' in the house that was fit for a woman, except the scissors."
"Don't think about me at all," said the sheriff, quickly.
"I care for nothing for myself. Forget that I'm alive."
"I—I can't," stammered66 Jim, looking as guilty as forty counterfeiters rolled into one. The sheriff turned away quickly, while the father called Jim to his side.
"Young man," said he, "you've been as good as an angel could have been, but if you suspect her a minute of being my accomplice67, may heaven blast you! I taught her engraving68, villain69 that I was, but when she found out what the work really was, I thought she'd have died. She begged and begged that I'd give the business up, and I promised and promised, but it isn't easy to get out of a crowd of your own kind, particularly when you're not so much of a man as you should be. At last she got sick of waiting, and ran away—then I grew desperate and worse than ever. I've been searching everywhere for her; you don't suppose a smart—smart counterfeiter has to get rid of his money in the way I've been doing, do you? I traced her to this part of the State, and I've been going over the roads again and again trying to find her; but I never saw her until she put this hole through my arm last night."
"I hadn't any idea who you were," interrupted the sheriff, with a face so full of mingled70 indignation, pain and tenderness, that Jim couldn't for the life of him take his eyes from it.
"Don't let any one suspect her, young man," continued the father. "I'll stay within reach—deliver me up, if it should be necessary to clear her."
"Trust to me," said Jim. "I know a man when I see him, even if he is a woman."
Two days later the sheriff rode into town, leading behind him the counterfeiter's horses, with the wagon and its contents, with thousands of dollars in counterfeit28 money. The counterfeiter had escaped, he said, and he had wounded him.
Bunkerville ran wild with enthusiasm, and when the sheriff insisted upon paying out of his own pocket the value of Braymer's and Williamson's horses, men of all parties agreed that Charley Mansell should be run for Congress on an independent ticket.
But the sheriff declined the honor, and, declaring that he had heard of the serious illness of his father, insisted upon resigning and leaving the country. Like an affectionate son, he purchased some dress-goods, which he said might please his mother, and then he departed, leaving the whole town in sorrow.
There was one man at Bunkerville who did not suffer so severely71 as he might have done by the sheriff's departure, had not his mind been full of strange thoughts. Pete Williamson began to regard his brother with suspicion, and there seemed some ground for his feeling. Jim was unnaturally72 quiet and abstracted; he had been a great deal with the sheriff before that official's departure, and yet did not seem to be on as free and pleasant terms with him as before. So Pete slowly gathered a conviction that the sheriff was on the track of a large reward from the bank injured by the counterfeiter; that Jim was to have a share for his services on the eventful night; that there was some disagreement between them on the subject, and that Jim was trying the unbrotherly trick of keeping his luck a secret from the brother who had resolved to fraternally share anything he might have obtained by the chase. Finally, when Pete charged his brother with the unkindness alluded73 to, and Jim looked dreadfully confused, Pete's suspicions were fully31 confirmed.
The next morning Jim and his horse were absent, ascertaining74 which fact, the irate75 Peter started in pursuit. For several days he traced his brother, and finally learned that he was at a hotel on the Iowa border. The landlord said that he couldn't be seen; he, and a handsome young fellow, with a big trunk, and a tall, thin man, and ex-Judge Bates, were busy together, and had left word they weren't to be disturbed for a couple of hours on any account. Could Pete hang about the door of the room, so as to see him as soon as possible?—he was his brother. Well, yes; the landlord thought there wouldn't be any harm in that.
The unscrupulous Peter put his eye to the keyhole; he saw the sheriff daintily dressed, and as pretty a lady as ever was, in spite of her short hair; he heard the judge say:
"By virtue76 of the authority in me vested by the State of Iowa, I pronounce you man and wife;" and then, with vacant countenance77, he sneaked78 slowly away, murmuring:
"That's the sort of reward he got, is it? And," continued Pete, after a moment, which was apparently one of special inspiration, "I'll bet that's the kind of deer he said he was goin' fur on the morning after the chase."
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1
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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2
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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3
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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4
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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5
aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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8
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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tussles
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| n.扭打，争斗( tussle的名词复数 ) | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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11
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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12
pastors
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| n.（基督教的）牧师( pastor的名词复数 ) | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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14
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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fusion
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| n.溶化；熔解；熔化状态，熔和；熔接 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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delinquent
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| adj.犯法的，有过失的；n.违法者 | |
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treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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installment
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| n.(instalment)分期付款；(连载的)一期 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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squads
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| n.（军队中的）班( squad的名词复数 )；（暗杀）小组；体育运动的运动（代表）队；（对付某类犯罪活动的）警察队伍 | |
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malarious
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| （患）疟疾的，（有）瘴气的 | |
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conveyances
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| n.传送( conveyance的名词复数 )；运送；表达；运输工具 | |
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friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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counterfeiter
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| n.伪造者 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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counterfeits
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| v.仿制，造假( counterfeit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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emigrant
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| adj.移居的，移民的；n.移居外国的人，移民 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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39
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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40
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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42
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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43
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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45
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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46
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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49
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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51
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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52
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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53
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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54
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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55
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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59
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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62
bemoaned
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| v.为（某人或某事）抱怨( bemoan的过去式和过去分词 )；悲悼；为…恸哭；哀叹 | |
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63
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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replenish
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| vt.补充；(把…)装满；(再)填满 | |
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65
industriously
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66
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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68
engraving
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| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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69
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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71
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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72
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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73
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ascertaining
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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76
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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