In dejection he rode up the valley, following the same hilly trail he
had taken two days before with Miss Rutherford. It took him past the
aspen grove at the mouth of the gulch which led to the Meldrum place.
Beyond this a few hundred yards he left the main road and went through
the chaparral toward a small ranch that nestled close to the timber.
Beulah had told him that it belonged to an old German named Rothgerber
who had lived there with his wife ever since she could remember.
Rothgerber was a little wrinkled old man with a strong South-German
accent. After Beaudry had explained that he wanted board, the rancher
called his wife out and the two jabbered away excitedly in their native
tongue. The upshot of it was that they agreed to take the windmill
agent if he would room in an old bunkhouse about two hundred yards from
the main ranch building. This happened to suit Roy exactly and he
closed the matter by paying for a week in advance.
The Rothgerbers were simple, unsuspecting people of a garrulous nature.
It was easy for Beaudry to pump information from them while he ate
supper. They had seen nothing of any stranger in the valley except
himself, but they dropped casually the news that the Rutherfords had
been going in and out of Chicito Canon a good deal during the past few
days.
"Chicito Canon. That's a Mexican name, isn't it? Let's see. Just
where is this gulch?" asked Beaudry.
The old German pointed out of the window. "There it iss, mein friend.
You pass by on the road and there iss no way in--no arroyo, no gulch,
no noddings but aspens. But there iss, shust the same, a trail.
Through my pasture it leads."
"Anybody live up Chicito? I want everybody in the park to get a chance
to buy a Dynamo Aermotor before I leave."
"A man named Meldrum. My advice iss--let him alone."
"Why?"
Rothgerber shook a pudgy forefinger in the air. "Mein friend--listen.
You are a stranger in Huerfano Park. Gut. But do not ask questions
about those who lif here. Me, I am an honest man. I keep the law.
Also I mind my own pusiness. So it iss with many. But there are
others--mind, I gif them no names, but--" He shrugged his shoulders
and threw out his hands, palm up. "Well, the less said the petter. If
I keep my tongue still, I do not talk myself into trouble. Not so,
Berta?"
The pippin-cheeked little woman nodded her head sagely.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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