CHAPTER XXIV--A DEATH WARRANT
Carrington was not a coward; he was not even a cautious man. And thebitter malice that filled his heart, together with riotous impulses thatseethed in his brain prompted him to go straight to the Arrow, wreakvengeance upon Taylor and drag Marion Harlan back to the big house hehad bought for her.
But a certain memory of Taylor's face when the latter had been pursuinghim through the big house; a knowledge of Taylor's ability to inflictpunishment, together with a divination that Taylor would not hesitate tokill him should there arise the slightest opportunity--all theseconsiderations served to deter Carrington from undertaking any rashaction.
Taylor's opposition to his desires enraged Carrington. He had met andconquered many men--and he had coolly and deliberately robbed manyothers, himself standing secure and immune behind legal barriers. And hehad seen his victims writhe and squirm and struggle in the meshes he hadprepared for them. He had heard them rave and wail and threaten; but notone of them had attempted to inflict physical punishment upon him.
Taylor, however, was of the fighting type. On two occasions, now,Carrington had been given convincing proof of the man's ability. And hehad seen in Taylor's eyes on the latest occasion the implacable gleam ofiron resolution and--when Taylor had gone down, fighting to the last, inthe sanguinary battle at the big house, he had not failed to note theindomitability of the man--the tenacious and dogged spirit that knows nodefeat--a spirit that would not be denied.
And so, though Carrington's desires would have led him to recklesslycarry the fight to the Arrow, certain dragging qualms of reluctancedissuaded him from another meeting with Taylor on equal terms.
And yet the malevolent passions that gripped the big man would nottolerate the thought of opposition. Taylor was the only man who stoodbetween him and his desires, and Taylor must be removed.
During the days of Carrington's confinement to his rooms above theCastle--awaiting the slow healing of the wound Taylor had inflicted uponhim, and the many bruises that marred his face--mementoes of theterrible punishment Taylor had inflicted upon him--the big man nursedhis venomous thoughts and laid plans for revenge upon his enemy.
As soon as he was able to appear in Dawes--to undergo withouthumiliation the inspection of his face by the citizens of the town--fornews of his punishment had been whispered broadcast--he boarded awestbound train.
He got off at Nogel, a little mining town sitting at the base of somefoothills in the Sangre de Christo Range, some miles from Dawes.
He spent three days in Nogel, interrogating the resident manager of the"Larry's Luck" mine, talking with miners and storekeepers and quizzingmen in saloons--and at the beginning of the fourth day he returned toDawes.
At about the time Miss Harlan and Taylor were sitting on the rock on thebank of the river near the Arrow, Carrington was in the courthouse atDawes, leaning over Judge Littlefield's desk. A tall, sleek-looking manof middle age, with a cold, steady eye and a smooth smile, stood nearCarrington. The man was neatly attired, and looked like a prosperousmine-owner or operator.
But had the judge looked sharply at his hands when he gripped the onethat was held out to him when Carrington introduced the man; or had hebeen a physiognomist of average ability, he could not have failed tonote the smooth softness of the man's hands and the gleam of guile andcunning swimming deep in his eyes.
But the judge noted none of those things. He had caught the man'sname--Mint Morton--and instantly afterward all his senses becamecentered upon what the man was saying.
For the man spoke of conscience--and the judge had one of his own--aguilty one. So he listened attentively while the man talked.
The thing had been bothering the man for some months--or from the timeit happened, he said. And he had come to make a confession.
He was a miner, having a claim near Nogel. He knew Quinton Taylor, andhe had known Larry Harlan. One morning after leaving his mine on a tripto Nogel for supplies, he had passed close to the "Larry's Luck" mine.Being on good terms with the partners, he had thought of visiting them.Approaching the mine on foot--having left his horse at a littledistance--he heard Taylor and Harlan quarreling. He had no opportunityto interfere, for just as he came upon the men he saw Taylor knockHarlan down with a blow of his fist. And while Harlan lay unconscious onthe ground Taylor had struck him on the head with a rock.
Morton had not revealed himself, then, fearing Taylor would attack him.He had concealed himself, and had seen Taylor, apparently remorseful,trying to revive Harlan. These efforts proving futile, Taylor had riggedup a drag, placed Harlan on it, and had taken him to Nogel. But Harlandied on the way.
To Littlefield's inquiry as to why Morton had not reported the murderinstantly, the man replied that, being a friend to Taylor, he had beenreluctant to expose him.
After the man concluded his story the judge and Carrington exchangedglances. There was a vindictively triumphant gleam in Littlefield'seyes, for he still remembered the humiliation he had endured at Taylor'shands.
He took Morton's deposition, told him he would send for him, later; anddismissed him. Carrington, appearing to be much astonished over theman's confession, accompanied him to the station, where he watched himboard the train that would take him back to Nogel.
And on the platform of one of the coaches, Carrington, grinningwickedly, gave the man a number of yellow-backed treasury notes.
"You think I won't have to come back--to testify against him?" asked theman, smiling coldly.
"Certainly not!" declared Carrington. "You've signed his death warrantthis time!"
Carrington watched the train glide westward, and then returned to thecourthouse. He found the judge sitting at his desk, gazing meditativelyat the floor. For there had been something insincere in Morton'smanner--his story of the murder had not been quite convincing--and inspite of his resentment against Taylor the judge did not desire to addanything to the burden already carried by his conscience.
Carrington grinned maliciously as he halted at Littlefield's side andlaid a hand on the other's arm.
"We've got him, Littlefield!" he said. "Get busy. Issue a warrant forhis arrest. I'll have Danforth send you some men to serve asdeputies--twenty of them, if you think it necessary!"
The judge cleared his throat and looked with shifting eyes at the other.
"Look here, Carrington," he said, "I--I have some doubts about thesincerity of that man Morton. I'd like to postpone action in this caseuntil I can make an investigation. It seems to me that--that Taylor, forall his--er--seeming viciousness, is not the kind of man to kill hispartner. I'd like to delay just a little, to----"
"And let Taylor get wind of the thing--and escape. Not by a damnedsight! One man's word is as good as another's in this country; and it'syour duty as a judge of the court, here, to act upon any complaint. Youissue the warrant. I'll get Keats to serve it. He'll bring Taylor here,and you can legally examine him. That's merely justice!"
Half an hour later, Carrington was handing the warrant to a big,rough-looking man with an habitual and cruel droop to the corners of hismouth.
"You'd better take some men with you, Keats," suggested Carrington."He'll fight, most likely," he grinned, evilly. "Understand," he added;"if you should have to kill Taylor bringing him in, there would be noinquiry made. And--" he looked at Keats and grinned, slowly anddeliberately closing an eye.