When L. W. looked over the shattered wall he saw Rimrock tearing down
the notice and crunching it into the ground. He was perfectly calm,
but in his staring blue eyes the death look still burned like live
coals; and it was only when Hassayamp, risking his life from heart
failure, toiled up and took charge of his claim that he could be
persuaded to give himself up.
CHAPTER XI
A LITTLE TROUBLE
Rimrock came back to Gunsight in charge of a deputy sheriff and with
the angry glow still in his eyes. The inquest was over and he was held
for murder, but he refused to retain a lawyer.
"I don't want one," he said when his friends urged it on him. "I wish
every lawyer was dead."
He sat in gloomy silence as the Gunsight justice of the peace went
through the formalities of a preliminary examination and then, while
they waited for the next train to Geronimo, he and the deputy dropped
in on Mary Fortune.
"Good morning," he said, flushing up as she looked at him, "can you
spare me a few minutes of your time?"
"Why, certainly," she answered, and he spoke to the deputy, who waited
outside the door.
"I've had a little trouble," went on Rimrock grimly as he sat down
where he could speak into her transmitter, "and I want you to help me
out. Mr. Hicks over here is guarding the mine and I've sent four more
boys out to help, but there's a whole lot of business coming up. Can
you hold down the job of Secretary?"
Mary Fortune thought a moment, then nodded her head and waited to hear
what he would say.
"All right," he said, "I'll telegraph East and have the appointment
O.K.'d. Then there's another matter. We're going to lay that railroad
across the desert as they never laid one before--six months will see it
done--but even that don't suit us. We're going to lay out our millsite
and have everything ready the day that railroad is done. Then we're
going to erect the mill and install the machinery and go to throwing
dirt. Eight months at the least and we'll have a producing property
shipping trainloads of ore every day. Well, what I was going to
say--there's a man named Jepson, a mining engineer, coming out to
superintend that work and I want you to give him all the assistance you
can and help boost the thing along. That's all--I'll send you a check
and the papers--you can address me at the County Jail."
He rose hastily and started for the door, then looked back with
questioning eyes.
"Very well," she said and he dropped his head and slouched heavily out
the door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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