British -- United States -- Fiction; Nobility -- Great Britain -- Fiction; Voyages and travels -- Fiction
"Of course; I knew it was no use attempting to reason with you, so the
instant necessity was to get one man of common sense to counteract the
stupidity of the bunk house. That I set out to do. I rode to Bleachers,
called on Lawyer Ricketts, paid him five dollars down for whatever
knowledge he could give me concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Armstrong.
He could give me none that I did not already possess. He kept the five
dollars, though. You saw me go off in the train. I merely went to the
next town, to do some telegraphing that might be more or less secret
from Ricketts. A detective agency will find Mr. Armstrong, and hand him
two hundred dollars, asking him at the same time to make for home by
the earliest train. Then, unless I'm much mistaken, Mr. Armstrong will
see the idiocy of what you propose, and will prevent you from carrying
out your scheme."
Jim pondered over this announcement for some minutes. At last he broke
the silence.
"What you say may be true, but I don't believe a word of it. It's more
likely Ricketts is your boss, and you went in to report to him and tell
him what we intended to do. Then he'll see that Bleachers is prepared to
meet us."
"Yes; that would be a simple way of turning the trick. There are good
points about it, but it happens not to be my way, as you will learn in a
few days when Mr. Armstrong returns."
Again Jim meditated for a while, and finally rose, walked to the further
end of the room, and engaged for some minutes in earnest cogitation with
his fellows, carried on in tones so low that Stranleigh could not hear.
Resuming his seat, he spoke with deliberation--
"You want us to believe that you are a friend of Mr. Armstrong?"
"I don't care whether you believe it or not. I can hardly be a friend of
Stanley Armstrong, because I've never seen him."
"Well, we'll put your good intentions to the test. When Mr. Armstrong
gets here, he will have no money. Stony broke, that's what he is. Now,
unless we shoot 'em up in Bleachers when they try to sell his place,
Armstrong will lose it. We take it you are a rich man. Will you promise
to lend him enough money to hold this ranch, and run the mine?"
"No; I won't," said Stranleigh, with decision.
"All right. Then you stay here until you cough up that cash. Even if
Armstrong comes, he will never know you're here, because we shall tell
him that you've gone East. Nobody else knows where you are, so there
isn't any chance of a search being made."
"This is rank brigandage," remarked Stranleigh.
"I guess that's the right title, but a man who brags so much of his
brains as you do, ought to see that if we're ready to shoot up a town,
we won't stop at such a trifle as brigandage."
"That's so. And now, gentlemen, I'm tired after my long journey, and I
think we've talked a great deal to very little purpose, so if you'll
show me what bunk I am to occupy, I'll turn in."
"There are six unused bunks, Mr. Stranleigh, and you can take your
choice. There's nothing mean about us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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