The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 2, 1902, Page 5

I, THE SUNDAY CALL. Dick JBoyle’s Business Card a54b e s v 4 Part IT—Concluded. opyright, 1901. by Bret Harte.) s tole acros€ Miss Cantire's ve you're afrald of - Boyle,” she satd w looking up. “What is 17 Yo en't got that Indian scare, too?" IS had n e shame. I think 1 he e t with equa! frankness. 3 ee, 1 Gon’t understand Indians as we ¥ Foster.™ ke my word and Foster's ths e iz not the least danger from them. About here they are merely grown- up ren. eruel and destruetive, as most are; but they know their masters time @ the old davs of promis- s = ng are over. The only other propensity they keep is thieving en then they only steal what they act want—horses, guns and powder A an go where ammunition or an e your trunk - Foster.” ¥ cessary to pro- tes nking of some- e e she went on siyly. “to te = hing more. Confidence for confidence e told me your trade sec I one of ours. Before we lef rrens my father ord & &m es £ men to be in readine if the scouts wh e w ht it necessary 8o vou see a ree: must have ger e cautior R bt as well with T he laughed ng heavy carbines t for Fort mischievous suppese T'd stranger to the p2 I know when an formation,” she sat T & e moments sile was comparatively ess Boyle could so th would take them € s the summit. Miss thought in his induced them vou hadn't been £ reir tracks, how « em? Bu she logic, *that, of those shots.” t the shots came did not cor- evertheless, he Foster might ‘friendlies’ or better by ‘however,* ou kpo e ded w g ugh I t s, I'r d’ with y e € I've thought I m iliar odor of their nything else, and their ponies. I I rode one: no take it away he intensity or 4 give y to receive tt Boyle, who was y so far, eir journey’'s end. s trifiling until, hey stood upon ible leading aleng the oward the intersec- v should have come from her superior e top of the missing ove the stunted bush- of the highway. throwing those old e said, glancing at 1 carried. ulous. Please do.” he asked, with the of masculine weakness in a little coldly y of myrtle obediently culous!"” she sald. 7" he asked, lifting = slight color. But t she was training her eyes In here doesn’t seem to be e coach! any horseless and glanced hurriedly around e one side a few rocks pro- the tangled him of the ther stretched the plain. alone. He them! tecte ridge; o “Bit dow move u I return he said “Take that.” He hand- ed bac d ran quickly to the coach fon—there it stood wvacant dropped pole, an showing too plainly the fear- of its desertion! A light step o made him turn. It was Miss ., earrying the “How fool- she gasp- out traces fon. ey both stared at the coach, the 2in and at each other! After us ascent, their long detour, tracted expectancy and their sity, there was such a sug- f eous mockery in this va- ess vehicle—apparently left to what seemed their utter aban- that 1t Instinctively affected And, as T am writing of hu- e, I am compelled to say that rst into a fit of laughter that stopped all other expres- kind of them to leave the was so But what made them run not reply; he was eagerly e coach. In that brief hour ust of the plain had t and covered any foul might have suggested .. Even the soft imprint ' moccasined feet had been t by the later horsehoofs of ryme It was these that ted Boyle's attention; but he m the marks made by the the released coach horses. s companion! She wes exam- more closely, and suddenly bright, animated face. *‘Look!” “Our men have been here, and ifted her she eaid have had a hand in this—whatever “Our men?” repeated Boyle, blan! *Yes!—troopers from the post—the es- u of. These are the prints e regulation cavalry horseshoe—not of Foster's team, nor ponies, of Indian Don’t you see?” “our men have got and have galloped the ridge—see?" she to the hoof prinis n. “They've antici- some Indian attack and secured ot “But If they, were the same escort you spoke of, they must have known yeu were here bout to aban something here—along on, pointing coming from the pl pated everyt v knew I could and wouldn't sta eir du said pating him with quick profession. that seemed to fit her aquiline nose tall figure. “And if they knew that.” she added, softening with a mischievous smile, “they also knew, of course, that I was protected by a gallant stranger vouched for No!" "she added with a certain blind, devoted con- fidence, which Boyle noticed with a slight wince that she had never shown before, s all right! and ‘by orders,’ Boyle, and when they've done their werk they’ll be back.” Boyle's mase girl, an ine common sense s, perhaps, safer than Miss Cantire's feminine faith and inherited disclpline, for in an instant he suddenly compre- hended the actual truth! The Indians had been there first; they had despoiled the coach and got off safely with their booty and prisoners on the approach of the escort—who were now naturally by their commander’s daughter w of their prisoner. This conv a dreadful one, yet a relief as far as the young girl was con- cerned. But should he tell her? No! Better that she should keep her c:\frnv faith in the triumphant promptness of the soldiers—and their speedy return, “I dare ou are right.” he gaid “and let us be thankful that pursuing them with a fury aroused that the belief say ¥ cheertully, ] in the empty coach you'll have at least a half eivilized shelter until they return Meantime I and reconnoiter’ g ittle.” “I will g0 with you,” she sald, But Boyle pointed out to her so strong- Iy the necessity of her remaining to wait for the return of the soldiers that. be- ing also fagged out by her long elimp, she obedlently consented, while he, even with this inspiration of .the truth, asd not believe n the return of the despol- ers, and knew she would be safe A few steps into the thicket go brought him full upon a realization of more than his worst convictions—the dead body of Foster! Near it lay the body of the mail agent. Both had been evidently dragged into the thicket from where they fell, scalped and half stripped. There was no evidence of any later struggle; - they must have been dead when they were brought there Boyle was neither a hard-hearted nor an unduly sensitive man. He was sorry for these two men, and would have fought to have saved them. But he had no imeginative ideas of death. His one thought was of the unsuspecting girl sitting In the lonely coach, and he hur- riedly dragged the bodies further into the bushes. In doing this he discovered & loaded revolver and & flask of eplirits, which had been lying under them, and promptly secured them. A few paces away lay the covéeted trunk of arms and ammunition, thelr lids wrenched off and their contents gone. He noticed with a grim smile that his own trunk of samples had shared a like fate, but was delighted to find that, while the brighter trifies had attracted the Indians’ childish cupidity. they had overlooked a beavy black merino shawl of a cheap but serviceable quality. It would help to protect Miss Cantire from the evening wind, which was already rising over the chill and stark plain. It elso occurred to him that she would need water after her parched journey, and he resolved to look for a spring. be- ing rewarded at last by a trickling rill near the ambushed camp. But he had no utensil except the spirit flask, which he finally emptied of its contents and re- placed with pure water—a herolc sacri- fice to & traveler who knew the com- fort of & stimulant. He retraced his steps, and was just emerging from the thicket when his quick eye caught sight of & moving shadow before him closs to the ground, which set the blood cours- ing through his veins. It was the figure of an Indlan crawling on his hands and knees toward the coach, scarcely forty yards away, For the first time that afternoon Boyle's calm ggod bumor was overswept by a blind and furious rage. Yet even then he was sane enough to remember that a pistol shot would alarm the girl, and to keep that weapon as a last resource. For an In- stant he crept forward as silently and stealtbily as the savage, and then, with & sudden bound, leaped upon him, driving his head and shoulders down against the rocks before he cculd utter a cry, and sending the scalping-knife he was carry- ing between his teeth flying with the shock from his battered jaw, Boyle seized It—his knee still on the man’s back —but the prostrate body never moved be- yond & slight contraction of the lower limbs. The shock had broken the Indian's neck. He turned the inert man on his back—the head hung loosely on the side. But in that brief instant Boyle had recog- nized the “friendly” Indian of the station to whom he had given the card, He rose dizzily to his feet. The whole action had passed In & few seconds of time, and had not even been noticed by the sole occupant of the coach. He mechanically cocked his revolver, but the man beneath him never moved IT WAS THL FIGURE OF AN INDIAN CRAWLING ON HIS MANDS AND KNEE TOWARD THE SOACTM “AND YOU WONT LEAVE ME ALONE ASAIN 2~ SHE JAID 1IN HESITATING TERROR. Neither was there any sign of flight or re- inforcement from the thicket around him. Again the whole truth flashed instinctive- 1y upon him. This spy and traitor had been left behind by.the marauders to re- turn to the station and avert suspiclon. He had been lurking around, but being without firearms had notsdared to attack the palr together. It was a moment or two befors Boyle regained his usual elastic good humor. Then he coolly returned to the spring, “washed himself of the Indlan,” as he grimly expressed it to himself, brushed his clothes, picked up the shawl and flask and returned to the coach. It was get- ting dark now, but the glow of the West- ern sky shone unimpeded through the windows and the silence gave him a great fear. He was relleved, however, on open- ing the door, to find Miss Cantire sitting stiffly In & corner. “I am sorry I was so long,” he sald apologetically te her at- titude, “but—" - “I suppose you took your own time,” she interrupted In & voice of Injured tolerance. “I don’t blame you; anything’s better than being cooped up in this tire- some stage for goodness knows how longl"” “I was hunting for water,” he sald humbly, “and have brought you some.” He banded her the flask. “And I see you have had a wash,” sghe sald & lttle enviously, “How spick and span you look! But what's the matter with your necktie?” He put his hand to his neck hurriedly. His necktie was loose and had twisted to one side in the struggle. He eolored quite as much from the sensitiveness of a studiously neat man as from the fear of discovery. ‘“‘And what's that?" she added, pointing to the shawl. “One of my samples that I suppose was turned out of the coach and for- gotten in the transfer,” he said glibly. “I thought it might keep you warm.” She looked at it dubiously and laid it gingerly aside *“You don't mean to say you go about with such things openly?"” she sald querulously. “Yes, one mustn’t lose a chance of trade, you know,” he resumed with a smile. “And you haven't found this journey very profitable” she said drily. *“You certainly are devoted to your business!™ After a _pause, discontentedly: “'It's quite night already—we can't sit hers In the dark.” b *“We can take one of the coach lamps tnside, I've been thinking the matter over, and I reckon it we leave one light outside the coach it may gulde your friends back.”” He had considered it, and belleved that the audacity of the act, coupled with the knowledge the Indlans must have of the presence of the soldlers in the vicinity, would deter rather than invite thelr approach, By She brightened considerably with the coach p which he lit and brought in- side. By its light she watched him cur- tously. His face was slightly flushed and his eyes very bright and keen-looking. Man killing, except with old professional hands, has the disadvantage of affecting the circulation. But Miss Cantlre. had noticed that the flask smelt of whisky. The poor man had probably fortified him- self from the fatigues of the day. “I suppose you are getting bored by this delay,” she sald tentatively. “Not at all,” he replied. ‘“Would you like to play cards? I've got a pack In We can use the middle seat and hang the lantern by the window strap.” They played euchre, at which Miss Can- tire cheated adorably, and Mr. Boyle lost game after game shamelessly. Then once or twice Miss Cantire was fain to put ber cards to her mouth to conceal an apolo- getlc yawn, and her blue-veined eyelids grew heavy. Whereupon Mr. Boyle sug- gested that she should make herself com- fortable in the corner of the coach with as many cushions as she liked and the ée- spised shawl, while he took the night air in a prowl around the coach and a look out for the returning party. Doing so, he was delighted, after a turn or two, to find her asleep, and so returned ‘contentedly to his sentry round. He was some distance from the coach when a low moaning sound in the thicket presently Increased until it rose and fell in the prolonged howl of wolves. He was hastening back when a cry, this time human and more terrifying, came from the coach. He turned toward it its door flew open and Miss Cantire came rushing toward him. Her face was color- less, her eyes wild with fear, and her tall slim flgure trembled convulsively as sl frantically caught at the lapels of his coat, as if to hide herself within its folds, and gasped breathlessly: “What is 1t? Oh, Mr, Boyle, save me!™ “They are wolves,” he sald hurriedly. “But there is no darger; they would nev- er attack you: you ’ere safe where you were; let me lead you back.” But she remained rooted to the spot, still clinging desperately to his coat. “No, no!” she saild, I dare. not! I heard that awful cry in my sleep. Ah! What's that?"’ and she agaln lapsed in nervous terror against him. Boyle passed his arm around her, promptly, firmly, masterfully. She seemed to feel the implied protection and yleided to it gratefully, with the further break- @own of a sob. “There is no dange: repeated cheerfully. *“Lean on me,” contined, as her step tottered; “you will be better in the coach.” “And you won't leave me alone again?’ she sald in hesitating terror. No He supported her to the coach gravely, gently—her master and still more hix own —for all that her beautiful loosened hair was against his cheek and shoulder, its perfume in his nostrils, and the contour of her lithe and perfect figure against his own. He helped her back Into the coach —with the ald of the cushions and shawl arranged a reclining couch for her on the, back seat, and then resumed his old place patiently, By degrees the color came back to her face—as much of it as was not hidden by her handkerchief. Then a tremulous voice behind it began & half-smothered apology. “] am so ashamed, Mr. Boyle—I really could not help it! But it was so sudden _gnd so horrible—T shouldn't have been afraid of it had it been really an Indian with a scalping knife—instead of that peast! I don’t know why I did it—but I was alone—and seemed to be dead—and you were dead, too—and they waere com- ing to eat me! They do, you know—you said so just now! Perhaps I was dream- tng. I don't know what you must think of me—I had po idea I was such a cow- rd!"™ lI!ut Boyls protested Indignantly. He was sure it he had been asleep, and had not known what wolves were before, he would have been equally frightened. She must try to sleep again—he was sure she could—and he would not stir from the coach untll she waked, or her friends came. She grew quleter presently, and took away the handkerchief from a mouth that smiled, though it still quivered. Then re- action began, and her tired nerves brought her languor and finally repose. Boyle watched the shadows thicken around her long lashes until they lay soft- 1y on the faint flush that sleep was bring- ing to her cheek; her delicate lips parted, and her quick breath at last came with the regularity of slumber. So she slept, and he, sitting silently op- posite her, dreamed—the old dream that IBret Tacte L= 5, comes to most good men and true once In their lives. He scarcely moved until the dawn lightened with opal the dreary plain, bringing back the horizon and day, when he woke from his dream with a sign and then a Jaugh. Then he listened for the sound of distant hoofs, and hearing them, + crept noiselessly from the coach. A com~ pact body of horsemen were bearing down upon it. He rose quickly to meet them and throwing up his hand brought them to a halt at some distance from the coach. They spread out, resolving them- selves into a dozen troopers and a smart cadet-like officer “It you are seek s Cantire,” he sald In a qulet, business-like tone. “shs ia quite safe in the coach and asleep. She knows nothing yvet of what has hap- pened and believes it i3 you who have taken everything away for security agalnst an Indlan attack. She has had a pretiy rough night—what with fa- tigue and her alarm at the wolves—and I thought 1t best to keep the truth from 8s long as possible, and [ would ads vou to break it to her gently.” He then briedly told the story of their experiences omitting only- his own personal encounter with the Indlan. A new pride, which was perhaps the result of his vigll, prevented him. The young officer glanced at him with as much ecourtesy as might be afforded to a clvilian intruding upon active mil tary operations. “I am sure Major Car tire will be greatly obliged to you whe her he knows it,” he said politely, “and as we intend to harness up and take the conch back to Sage Brush Station imme- you will have an opportunity of rim not going back irush,” said s the coach to hours of n well as on this pieni I reckon the least Major Cantl Is to let me take one of yo s o next station in time to catch ths n coach. 1 can do it, If I set out at o Boyle heard his name, with the faml ar prefix of “Dicky.” given,to by a commissary s whom h ognized as having met at the ag: the while a perceptible smile went throu; words *Chicago drummer” a out the group. “Very well, sir officer., with a famillarity a shad respeciful than his pr ner. “You can take the hors lieve the In with your serge; The two men walked toward the coach Boyle lingered a moment at the window him the figure of Miss Cantire umbering among h , and then turned quiet later he was galloping er’s horses across the empty e Miss Cantire awoke presently to the sound of a familiar voice and the sight of figures that she knew. But the young officer’s first words of explanation—a rded account of the pursuit of th ndians and the recapture of the arms. suppressing the killing of Foster and the mail agent—brought a change to her brightened face and a wrinkle to her pretty brow. *“But Mr. Boyle sald noth- ing of this to me,” she asked, sitting up. “Where is he?"” “Already on his way to the next station on one of our horses! Wanted to catch the down stage and get a new box of samples, I fancy, as the braves had rigged themselves out with his laces and ribbons. Sald he’d lost time enough on this plcnic,” returned the young officer, with a laugh. “Smart business chap; but I hove I don’t bore you.” Miss Cantire felt her cheek flush, and bit her lip. “I found him most kind and considerate, Mr: Ashford,” she said cold- ly. “He may have thought the escort could have joined the coach a little earlier and saved all this, but he was too much of a gentleman to say anything about it to me,” she added dryly, with a slight ele- vation of her aquiline nose. Nevertheless, Boyle’s words, as reportsd by the young officer, stung her deeply. To hurry off, teo, without saying “good-by" or even asking how she slept. No doubt he had lost time and was tired of her company, and thought mors of his pre- clous samples than of her! After all, it ‘was like him to rush off for an order. She was half-inclined to call the young officer back and tell him how Boyle had criticized her costume on the road. But Mr. Ashford was at that time entirely preoccupled with his men around a led of rock and bushes some yards from the coach, yet not so far away but that she coul!d hear what the sergeant was sayin; “I'll swear there was no dead Injin here when we came yesterday! We searched the whole place, by daylight, too, for any sign. The Injin was killed In his tracks by some one last night. It's like Dick Boyle, lleutenant, to have done it, and like him to have sald nothin’ to frighten the young lady. He knows when to keep his mouth shut—and when to open it!” Miss Cantire sank back In her corner as the officer turned and approached the coach. The Inecident of the past night flashed back upon her—Mr. Boyle's long absence, his flushed face, twisted necktis and enfoeed cheerfulness. She was shocked, amazed, discomfited—and admir- ing! And this hero had been sitting oppo- site to her, silent all the rest of the night. “Did Mr. Boyle say anything of an Indian attack last night?" asked Ash- ford. *“Did you hear anything?" “Only the wolves howling.” sald Mise Cantire. “Mr. Boyle was away twice.” She was strangely reticent—in compll- mentary {mitation of her missing hero. “There is a dead Indian hers who has been killed,” began Ashford. “Oh, please don’t say anything more, interrupted the young lady, “but let us get away from this hor- rid place at once. Do get the horses in 1 can’t stand it. But the horses wers already harnessed and mounted, postilion-wise, by the troopers. vehlole wi ready to start when Miss Cantire called “Stopl” When Ashford presented himself at the door the young lady was upon her hands and knees, searching the bottom of the coach. “Oh, dear! I've lost some- thing. 1 must have dropped it on the road,” she sald, breathlessly, with pink cheeks. “You must positively wait and let me go back and i1 1t. I won't be long. You know there’s ‘no hurry.' ” My. Ashford stared as Miss Cantire skipped like a schoolgirl from the coach and ran down the trall by which she and Boyle had approached the coach the night before. She had not gone far before she came upon the withered flowers he had thrown away at her command. “It must be about here,” she murmured. Sudden- ly she uttered & ery of delight and picked up the business card that Boyle had shown her. Then she looked furtively around her, and, selecting a sprig of myr- tle among the cast-off flowers, concealed it In her mantle and ran back, glowing, to the coach. “Thank you! All right, I've found it.” she called to Ashford with a dazzling sml nd leaped inside. The coach drove on, and Miss Cantire alone In its recesses drew the myrtle from her mantle and folding it carefully in her handkerchief, placed it in her reti- cule, Then she drew out the card, read its dryly practical Information over and over again, examined the sofled edges, brushed them daintily, and held it for & moment, with eyes that saw not, me- tionless in her hand. Then she raised it _siowly to her lips, rolled it into @ spiral, and, loosening a hook and eye, tErust it gently into her bosom. And Dick Boyle, gnllopm' away to the distant station, did not know that the first step toward a realization of his foolish dream been taken.