I told you so,drunk! said the President.
The Doctor looked grave, but did not speak. They dismounted and picketed their horses. Then crept on all fours to the ledge above the furnace. There was a cry from Secretary Gibbs, Look yer. Some fellar has been jumping us, boys. See these notices.
There were two notices on canvas affixed to the rock, claiming the ground, and signed by Pedro, Manuel, Miguel, Wiles, and Roscommon.
This was done, Doctor, while your trustworthy Greaser locater,dn him,lay there drunk. Whats to be done now?
But the Doctor was making his way to the unfortunate cause of their defeat, lying there quite mute to their reproaches. The others followed him.
The Doctor knelt beside Concho, unrolled him, placed his hand upon his wrist, his ear over his heart, and then said:
Dead.
Of course. He got medicine of you last night. This comes of your dd heroic practice.
But the Doctor was too much occupied to heed the speakers raillery. He had peered into Conchos protuberant eye, opened his mouth, and gazed at the swollen tongue, and then suddenly rose to his feet.
Tear down those notices, boys, but keep them. Put up your own. Dont be alarmed, you will not be interfered with, for here is murder added to robbery.
Murder?
Yes, said the Doctor, excitedly, Ill take my oath on any inquest that this man was strangled to death. He was surprised while asleep. Look here. He pointed to the revolver still in Conchos stiffening hand, which the murdered man had instantly cocked, but could not use in the struggle.
Thats so, said the President, no man goes to sleep with a cocked revolver. Whats to be done?
Everything, said the Doctor. This deed was committed within the last two hours; the body is still warm. The murderer did not come our way, or we should have met him on the trail. He is, if anywhere, between here and Tres Pinos.
Gentlemen, said the President, with a slight preparatory and half judicial cough, two of you will stay here and stick! The others will follow me to Tres Pinos. The law has been outraged. You understand the Court!
By some odd influence the little group of half-cynical, half-trifling, and wholly reckless men had become suddenly sober, earnest citizens. They said, Go on, nodded their heads, and betook themselves to their horses.
Had we not better wait for the inquest and swear out a warrant? said the Secretary, cautiously.
How many men have we?
Five!
Then, said the President, summing up the Revised Statutes of the State of California in one strong sentence; then we dont want no dd warrant.
CHAPTER V
WHO HAD A LIEN ON IT
It was high noon at Tres Pinos. The three pines from which it gained its name, in the dusty road and hot air, seemed to smoke from their balsamic spires. There was a glare from the road, a glare from the sky, a glare from the rocks, a glare from the white canvas roofs of the few shanties and cabins which made up the village. There was even a glare from the unpainted red-wood boards of Roscommons grocery and tavern, and a tendency of the warping floor of the veranda to curl up beneath the feet of the intruder. A few mules, near the watering trough, had shrunk within the scant shadow of the corral.
The grocery business of Mr. Roscommon, although adequate and sufficient for the village, was not exhausting nor overtaxing to the proprietor; the refilling of the pork and flour barrel of the average miner was the work of a brief hour on Saturday nights, but the daily replenishment of the average miner with whisky was arduous and incessant. Roscommon spent more time behind his bar than his grocers counter. Add to this the fact that a long shed-like extension or wing bore the legend, Cosmopolitan Hotel, Board or Lodging by the Day or Week. M. Roscommon, and you got an idea of the variety of the proprietors functions. The hotel, however, was more directly under the charge of Mrs. Roscommon, a lady of thirty years, strong, truculent, and good-hearted.
Mr. Roscommon had early adopted the theory that most of his customers were insane, and were to be alternately bullied or placated, as the case might be. Nothing that occurred, no extravagance of speech nor act, ever ruffled his equilibrium, which was as dogged and stubborn as it was outwardly calm. When not serving liquor, or in the interval while it was being drank, he was always wiping his counter with an exceedingly dirty towel,or indeed anything that came handy. Miners, noticing this purely perfunctory habit, occasionally supplied him slily with articles inconsistent with their service,fragments of their shirts and underclothing, flour sacking, tow, and once with a flannel petticoat of his wifes, stolen from the line in the back-yard. Roscommon would continue his wiping without looking up, but yet conscious of the presence of each customer. And its not another dhrop yell git, Jack Brown, until yeve wiped out the black score that stands agin ye. And its there ye are, darlint, and its heres the bottle thats been lukin for ye sins Saturday. And fwhot hev you done with the last I sent ye, ye divil of a McCorkle, and heres me back thats bruk entoirely wid dipping intil the pork barl to giv ye the best sides, and ye spending yur last cint on a tare into Gilroy. Whist! and if its fer foighting ye are, boys, theres an illigant bit of sod beyant the corral, and it may be meselfll come out with a shtick and be sociable.
On this particular day, however, Mr. Roscommon was not in his usual spirits, and when the clatter of horses hoofs before the door announced the approach of strangers, he absolutely ceased wiping his counter and looked up as Dr. Guild, the President, and Secretary of the new Company strode into the shop.
We are looking, said the President, for a man by the name of Wiles, and three Mexicans known as Pedro, Manuel, and Miguel.
Ye are?
We are!
Faix, and I hope yell foind em. And if yell git from em the score Ive got agin em, darlint, Ill add a blessing to it.
There was a laugh at this from the bystanders, who, somehow, resented the intrusion of these strangers.
I fear you will find it no laughing matter, gentlemen, said Dr. Guild, a little stiffly, when I tell you that a murder has been committed, and the men I am seeking within an hour of that murder put up that notice signed by their names, and Dr. Guild displayed the paper.
There was a breathless silence among the crowd as they eagerly pressed around the Doctor. Only Roscommon kept on wiping his counter.
You will observe, gentlemen, that the name of Roscommon also appears on this paper as one of the original beaters.
And sure, darlint, said Roscommon, without looking up, if yeve no better ividince agin them boys then you have forninst me, its home yed bether be riding to wanst. For its meself as hasnt sturred fut out of the store the day and noight,more betoken as the boys Ive sarved kin testify.
Thats so, Ross, right, chorused the crowd, Weve been running the old man all night.
Then how comes your name on this paper?
O murdher! will ye listen to him, boys? As if every felly that owed me a whisky bill didnt come to me and say, Ah, Misther Roscommon, or Moike, as the case moight be, sure its an illigant sthrike Ive made this day, and its meself that has put down your name as an original locater, and yer fortunes made, Mr. Roscommon, and will yer fill me up another quart for the good luck betune you and me. Ah, but ask Jack Brown over yar if it isnt sick that I am of his original locations.