As Bob said this he directed our attention to a long line of horsemen, who, moving in a compact body, were rapidly approaching the place on which the farmers stood. They moved four abreast1 and didn’t scatter2 out enough from the ranks to be farmers, and therefore I knew them to be something else.
“They are soldiers,” I said.
“Texas Rangers3!” exclaimed Bob. “I am glad to see them, for they won’t let us fight,[100] anyway. Their object is to preserve order on the frontier, and they will arrest anybody who doesn’t obey them. Let’s wait a few minutes and see what they are going to do.”
We waited, and in a short time saw that the farmers were not as glad to see them as we were. The column halted and the three officers in command rode up to see what the trouble was about, and in two minutes were surrounded by a wall of clenched4 fists, which were flourished in the air. The farmers seemed bent5 on telling their story before the cattlemen could get in a word, but presently we heard a loud voice commanding silence, and after that everything became as quiet as could be. One man had been called upon to tell what he knew, and the others consented to wait until he got through.
“I guess there won’t be any fighting as long as the Rangers are here, and so we will go back and see to the cattle,” said I. “We’re going to have a hard time in getting them over the hill, so that they can see the water, but if we can do that for even one it will be just so much money saved.”
[101]
If anybody has tried to get cattle up when once they have laid down and abandoned themselves to their fate, he will know what a time we had of it. Whips didn’t do any good. The only thing we could do was to use our lariats upon them and fairly drag them to their feet. In this way, by taking two boys to each cow, we managed to get half a dozen of them to the top of the hill, where they could see their companions, and by that time it was pitch dark. We didn’t know whose cows they were, and that made no difference. We saw several other men engaged as we were, and when the last squad6 of them came along we joined them and rode toward the wagon7.
“Let the balance go,” said one of the cowboys. “If the cool night air of the prairie don’t revive them nothing else will. I believe I would like to have a drink of water myself.”
“We got along without a fight, didn’t we?” said Bob, who seemed to know everybody on the plains.
“Of course; but it looked pretty blue for a while, I tell you. The farmers can’t begin a[102] fight now, anyway. They ought to have pitched into us the moment we came in sight.”
Nobody did. They were on the hunt for their own wagons9 themselves, and the only thing they could do was to keep on going until they found them. That seemed to be the only thing for us to do, too, so we rode down to the willows10, and every time we saw a team we sent one of our number in to make enquiries. When it came my turn I went in and found only two men, who were engaged in getting their supper.
“That’s Mr. Davenport’s wagon up there in the bend,” said one, pointing up the river. “Do you belong?”
I replied that I did belong there, and that I was somewhat anxious to find it, for I was in need of something to eat.
“I hope you aint any relative of the man who owns it,” said the cowboy. “If you are you will find him as dead as a smoked herring.”
[103]
These words were all I wanted to hear. A queer pang11 shot over me when I thought of Bob. How was I to break the news to him?
“Why, how did anybody find it out?” I managed to say at last.
“Oh, he’s there! They found him breathing his last on the plains, and brought him in. Say, do you know what hold Chisholm has got on him? He has got a guard over him, and won’t let nobody go nigh him.”
“It ’pears to me that he’s got some documents on him that he does not want to give up,” said the other cowboy. “If you belong there, why, of course, you will know all about it.”
I never had anything come quite so hard as I did in riding back through those willows to the place where Bob sat on his horse, for I didn’t know how in the world I could tell him of his father’s death; but when I got within sight of him I found that Mr. Chisholm was ahead of me. When he found that Bob didn’t come in with the rest of the cowboys he had come out to find him, believing that he could tell him better than anybody else. I[104] saw that he had been very easy about it, but it was all Bob could do to stand it. Elam Storm was his friend. He did not go to anyone else, but rose up close to him and threw both his arms around his neck.
Elam stammered13 and coughed, and looked all around for help. Finally he glanced appealingly at me, but what could I say?
“He was brung in about half an hour ago,” said Mr. Chisholm, drawing his hand hastily across his face. “And although we have had two doctors at him, whom we found among the Rangers, they say it is too late to do anything. They say it is something like heart disease.”
“Was no one near him when he was taken?” I asked, feeling that I must say something.
“There were a dozen men near him,” was the answer. “They got to him as quickly as they could, but couldn’t be of any use. And I’ll tell you that he had his left hand tightly clasped on his pocket-book,” said Mr. Chisholm,[105] riding up closer to me and speaking in a whisper. “So that is safe.”
I breathed easier after that, and fell in beside Mr. Chisholm, who led the way slowly toward the wagon. We found it completely surrounded by men—Rangers, farmers, and cowboys—who had come in to see about it; for it was seldom that a loss like this happened during a drive. But they paid no attention to us. Their gaze was fixed14 upon a man who had attempted to go into the wagon, but the guard had stopped him. We worked our way gradually through the crowd, and Bob, who gave little heed15 to what was going on around him, threw himself from his horse, and made his way into the wagon.
“Elam,” said he, “you must go with me. I feel safer when you are around.”
The guard, prompted by a sign from Mr. Chisholm, allowed him to pass, and nobody made any effort to stop him, but the man who was talking with the guard was well-nigh furious.
“Who’s that who allows a stranger to go in to my brother?” said he, turning fiercely[106] upon Mr. Chisholm. “I guess I have got more right in there than he has.”
“Who be you?” asked Mr. Chisholm.
“I am Clifford Henderson, if it will do you any good to know it,” answered the man. “I haven’t seen my brother for eight years, and I claim the right to go in to him.”
“That’s nothing more than fair, Aleck,” said one of the cowboys. “He has as good a right to see him as anybody.”
So that was Clifford Henderson, was it? Mr. Chisholm turned and gave him a good looking over, and Tom Mason and I did the same; and I was forced to make the confession16 that, as far as resemblance went, Bob was a long way off. Henderson was the very picture of the dead and gone Mr. Davenport. He was a man of rather large size, dressed like the Texans that stood around him; and, if he had allowed his whiskers to grow into a goatee, instead of that flowing beard, he could easily have passed himself off for his brother. I am free to say that I didn’t know enough about law to know which way the property would turn, but then what did these men care about[107] law? Bob’s father’s signature, backed up by the names of all of us, and witnessed by Bob himself, would bring him the legal right to everything he owned. But there was one thing against Henderson: He got mad when he was told that he could not see his brother. Mr. Chisholm evidently noticed this and resolved to profit by it.
“Well, sir, you are as like your brother as two peas,” said Mr. Chisholm, at length.
“I know I am,” said Henderson, taking off his hat and turning around so that everybody could see him. “I haven’t seen him in a long time, and I demand the right to see him now.”
“All right! You shall have it,” said Mr. Chisholm, and riding up close to the wagon he called out: “Bob, have you got that pocket-book?”
“Hold on!” exclaimed Henderson. “That pocket-book is just what I want. There are some papers in it that relate to me.”
“Hand it out here,” said Mr. Chisholm, as Elam answered in the affirmative from the wagon; and when his hands closed upon the[108] pocket-book, he put it into his inside coat.
“Now you can see your brother as soon as you please.”
“But I want that thing you put inside of your coat,” said Mr. Henderson, and I didn’t blame him for showing anger. “All my future depends on what you have there.”
“We’ll have some supper first; after that you can all come here and we’ll listen to the different tales this book has got to tell.”
“Different tales?” ejaculated Henderson. “There’s only one tale it can tell, and that is, that all his property belongs to me. Who is that stranger whom you allowed to go inside the wagon? I want him out of there when I go in.”
“Bob!” shouted Mr. Chisholm; “have you got through in there?”
“Why, a person would think that the dead man was some relative of his!” said Henderson, in surprise. “To tell you the truth, I never saw the boy before.”
“Well, then, come out,” said Mr. Chisholm.[109] “Be careful to look in all his pockets to see that you don’t miss anything.”
Elam and Bob came out in obedience18 to Mr. Chisholm’s instructions, and it was plain to everybody standing19 around that there was no sham20 about their feelings. Elam’s face looked as long as your arm, while Bob had evidently been crying, and I took notice of the fact that it had an effect upon the men standing around. Of course there were two sides to the question. Some were in favor of Bob, while others believed that Henderson had the right on his side; and still others were willing to wait until the matter had been thoroughly21 investigated before they inclined to either side. It was a big jury of four hundred men, and somehow I didn’t feel at all uneasy.
“Now, sir, you are at liberty to go in as soon as you please,” said Mr. Chisholm, waving his hand toward the wagon.
“Yes; and thanks to you these strangers have got everything they wanted,” returned Henderson angrily.
“Look a-here, pardner, I am in favor of[110] doing whatever is right,” said our leader, throwing more emphasis into his words than I had seen him use before. “This pocket-book has two tales to tell. If they speak in your benefit you shall have it. Tony, catch up! Boys, I am going to eat supper with you to-night.”
Henderson went into the wagon, the men turned away to hunt their own wagons and get a bite to eat, and Tony began his preparations for supper. Mr. Chisholm sat down on a little mound22 of grass, rested his hands upon his knees, and looked thoughtfully at the ground; we boys stood around waiting impatiently for him to speak, and all watched for Henderson to come out of the wagon. He was gone a long time, and during his stay in there he threw everything about in the greatest confusion. He didn’t leave a single thing the way he found it, and he was in so great a hurry to find something of which he was in search that our fellows had to go to work and straighten up things. I knew he wasn’t making any friends by his unceremonious conduct. He at length appeared,[111] and, if his looks indicated anything, he was madder than he was when he went in.
“Things have come to a pretty pass, I must confess,” said he, and he was almost boiling over with fury. “I must wait the pleasure of strangers, till they get ready to let me have my brother’s things! What kind of a law do you call that?”
“It’s the law in this State, whatever it may be elsewhere,” said Mr. Chisholm.
“Upon my word, I never saw this boy before,” continued Henderson. “He is some little upstart that my brother has seen since he came to Texas. He wouldn’t have adopted anything like him, anyway.”
“Why, Clifford Henderson, I know you,” said Bob. “I remember when I used to see you in St. Louis——”
“You never saw me before in your life,” returned Henderson, with a scowl23 on his forehead that might have made Bob tremble if he had been alone. “And I never saw you before.”
“Easy, easy!” exclaimed Mr. Chisholm soothingly24. “It will all come out when we[112] have had our supper. Until then just rest in peace.”
Henderson started off with the air of a man who would have snatched things bald-headed if he had only possessed25 the opportunity, and when he was well out of hearing Mr. Chisholm continued:
“Bob, you want to keep mum and answer such questions as I shall ask you by and by. These boys have all signed the will in your favor? Well, that’s enough. Let’s see him get around that.”
“But I can’t help thinking that he has got something back of it,” said Bob, between his sobs. “He goes about it so confidently that I am really afraid of him. He denies that he ever saw me.”
“Of course. That’s to be expected. But you are sure that you have seen him before?”
“Why, I knew him the minute I put my eyes on him,” said Bob, looking up. “He was always the very picture of my father, and if father had wanted his property to go to him he would have said so. He would have told you so, Mr. Chisholm, while you were[113] sitting on the porch listening to his story. He would have told these boys so while he was telling them the history of the pocket-book.”
“Well, take it easy. Things will come out all right in the end.”
There was silence around that camp fire while we were eating supper, until Frank, the cowboy, came in and sauntered up for his share of it. He was evidently big with news, for when he had helped himself to a plateful and began looking around for a place to sit down, he said:
“Henderson’s got something that didn’t belong to him. He’s been searching that body. He has got a hundred dollars in cash.”
“What did he say?” exclaimed Mr. Chisholm.
“I say, he’s got a hundred dollars in cash that he is going to put in his pocket and keep there. He says he found it in the wagon, and don’t mean to let anybody take it away from him.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Mr. Chisholm. “The money has got to go where the pocket-book goes.”
[114]
After that there was more silence until we had all finished our suppers, and got our pipes out, and then the men began to stroll in one after the other. I noticed, too, that almost all the cowboys, some of the farmers, and a good many of the Rangers appeared to side with Mr. Chisholm, for they took particular pains to place themselves pretty close to him. Henderson was one of the first to appear, and when he seated himself on a log opposite our leader, he must have been surprised at the meagre showing he had.
“Well, boys,” said Mr. Chisholm, knocking the ashes from his pipe, “we are all here, are we? If you know of anybody that’s back send ’em on, for we want this thing done up in order. I’ll appoint you all as jurymen, and we’ll show some people out there in the settlements that we can do some things as well as they can. The first thing that is done when a man dies is to read his will; but first I must have every article that belongs to him. You know it all goes where the will goes, don’t you?”
Of course that was settled. All the boys[115] standing around agreed to that. But Mr. Chisholm wasn’t satisfied. He put it to a vote, and such a sonorous26 “Aye!” as resounded27 through that grove28 of willows was never heard there before.
“I have no business to act as judge, but I know a story which may fit well into the case,” Mr. Chisholm hastened to explain, “and consequently I shall put everything to a vote. It’s settled, then, that I must have every article that belongs to Mr. Davenport. Henderson, I’ll thank you to hand over that hundred dollars.”
“What hundred dollars?” enquired the man; but a person could see that he was slightly uneasy. He did not like Mr. Chisholm’s way of talking.
“The hundred dollars you got while you were in the wagon,” returned Mr. Chisholm. “You done something when you were in the wagon that you had no business to do. You searched the body.”
“Well, I did it because I thought he had some papers about him that I had more business with than anybody else,” said Henderson;[116] and when he uttered the words he looked at Mr. Chisholm as if to ask him what he was going to do about it. “I knew I couldn’t get them while a stranger was about.”
The man must have been crazy to talk this way in the presence of four hundred men who were assembled as a jury to try his rights of property. He was making enemies fast. I knew that around his camp fire he had talked to fellows who were gathered there until he had brought them to his own way of thinking; but they didn’t suppose that he was going to act the dunce at the first opportunity.
“You say you won’t hand them out?” enquired Mr. Chisholm, and anybody could see that he was getting mad.
“No, I won’t! The money is mine!”
“Hand ’em out here!” roared Mr. Chisholm.
“I tell you I won’t do it. It belongs to me!”
Our leader was a man who would not take this for an answer. He slowly and deliberately29 arose to his feet, the cowboys, especially his own and Mr. Davenport’s, drawing nearer to him, and when he got up the shining[117] barrel of a six-shooter was looking Henderson squarely in the face. The man turned pale and stepped back. He gazed around at the cowboys, but none seemed ready to help him. On the contrary, they all folded their arms, and that was as good a sign as he wanted.
“What kind of a law do you call this?” said Henderson, putting his hand into his pocket. “If I had a pack of Comanches to decide for me I would stand just as much show.”
“Well, it is the law here, and you are a fool for bucking30 against it,” said Mr. Chisholm, as the money was placed in his hands. It was a large pile of money to contain one hundred dollars, and I was glad to see that he spoke31 about it. “Judging by the contents of your pocket you got rather more than a hundred dollars while you were about it,” he added, with a smile. “So far so good! Now the next thing is the reading of the will.”
Mr. Chisholm, who was the coolest man I ever saw to pass through such an ordeal32, seated himself on the grass hummock33 again, and produced the pocket-book from inside[118] his coat. He opened it and laid it upon his knee, and of course we all strained our necks to get a glimpse of it. The first thing that came into view was a little pile of letters, all endorsed34, and confined by a rubber band such as business men use to keep their correspondence in one place. Mr. Chisholm pulled the topmost one out and looked at it.
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1
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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2
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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3
rangers
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| 护林者( ranger的名词复数 )； 突击队员 | |
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4
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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6
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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7
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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8
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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9
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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10
willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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11
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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12
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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13
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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14
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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15
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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16
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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17
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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18
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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27
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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28
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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29
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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30
bucking
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| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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33
hummock
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| n.小丘 | |
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34
endorsed
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| vt.& vi.endorse的过去式或过去分词形式v.赞同( endorse的过去式和过去分词 )；在（尤指支票的）背面签字；在（文件的）背面写评论；在广告上说本人使用并赞同某产品 | |
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