Whispering Smith

  CHAPTER XI

  AT THE THREE HORSES

  "Clean them out of the Rocky Mountains; that is a pretty goodcontract," mused the man in McCloud's office on Sunday morning. He satopposite McCloud in Bucks's old easy chair and held in his handBucks's telegram. As he spoke he raised his eyebrows and settled back,but the unusual depth of the chair and the shortness of his legs lefthis chin helpless in his black tie, so that he was really no betteroff except that he had changed one position of discomfort for another."I wonder, now," he mused, sitting forward again as McCloud watchedhim, "I wonder--you know, George, the Andes are, strictly speaking, apart of the great North American chain--whether Bucks meant to includethe South American ranges in that message?" and a look of mildlygood-natured anticipation overspread his face.

  "Suppose you wire him and find out," suggested McCloud.

  "No, George, no! Bucks never was accurate in geographical expressions.Besides, he is shifty and would probably cover his tracks by tellingme to report progress when I got to Panama."

  A clerk opened the outer office door. "Mr. Dancing asks if he can seeyou, Mr. McCloud."

  "Tell him I am busy."

  Bill Dancing, close on the clerk's heels, spoke for himself. "I knowit, Mr. McCloud, I know it!" he interposed urgently, "but let me speakto you just a moment." Hat in hand, Bill, because no one would knockhim down to keep him out, pushed into the room. "I've got a plan," heurged, "in regards to getting these hold-ups."

  "How are you, Bill?" exclaimed the man in the easy chair, jumpinghastily to his feet and shaking Dancing's hand. Then quite as hastilyhe sat down, crossed his knees violently, stared at the giant lineman,and exclaimed, "Let's have it!"

  Dancing looked at him in silence and with some contempt. Thetrainmaster had broken in on the superintendent for a moment and thetwo were conferring in an undertone. "What might your name be,mister?" growled Dancing, addressing with some condescension the manin the easy chair.

  The man waved his hand as if it were immaterial and answered with asingle word: "Forgotten!"

  "How's that?"

  "Forgotten!"

  "That's a blamed queer name----"

  "On the contrary, it's a very common name and that is just thetrouble: it's forgotten."

  "What do you want, Bill?" demanded McCloud, turning to the lineman.

  "Is this man all right?" asked Dancing, jerking his thumb toward theeasy chair.

  "I can't say; you'll have to ask him."

  "I'll save you that trouble, Bill, by saying that if it's for the goodof the division I am all right. Death to its enemies, damme, say I.Now go on, William, and give us your plan in regards to getting thesehold-ups--yes."

  Dancing looked from one man to the other, but McCloud appearedpreoccupied and his visitor seemed wholly serious. "I don't want totake too much on myself--" Bill began, speaking to McCloud.

  "You look as if you could carry a fair-sized load, William, providedit bore the right label," suggested the visitor, entirely amiable.

  "--But nobody has felt worse over this thing and recent things----"

  "Recent things," echoed the easy chair.

  "--happening to the division that I have. Now I know there's beentrouble on the division----"

  "I think you are putting it too strong there, Bill, but let it pass."

  "--there's been differences; misunderstandings and differences. So Isays to myself maybe something might be done to get everybody togetherand bury the differences, like this: Murray Sinclair is in town; hefeels bad over this thing, like any railroad man would. He's amountain man, quick as the quickest with a gun, a good trailer, rideslike a fiend, and can catch a streak of sunshine travelling on a pass.Why not put him at the head of a party to run 'em down?"

  "Run 'em down," nodded the stranger.

  "Differences such as be or may be----"

  "May be----"

  "Being discussed when he brings 'em in dead or alive, and not before.That's what I said to Murray Sinclair, and Murray Sinclair is readyfor to take hold this minute and do what he can if he's asked. I toldhim plain I could promise no promises; that, I says, lays with GeorgeMcCloud. Was I right, was I wrong? If I was wrong, right me; if I wasright, say so. All I want is harmony."

  The new man nodded approval. "Bully, Bill!" he exclaimed heartily.

  "Mister," protested the lineman, with simple dignity, "I'd just alittle rather you wouldn't bully me nor Bill me."

  "All in good part, Bill, as you shall see; all in good part. Nowbefore Mr. McCloud gives you his decision I want to be allowed a word.Your idea looks good to me. At first I may say it didn't. I am candid;I say it didn't. It looked like setting a dog to catch his own tail.Mind you, I don't say it can't be done. A dog _can_ catch his owntail; _they do do it_," proclaimed the stranger in a low and emphaticundertone. "But," he added, moderating his utterance, "when theysucceed--who gets anything out of it but the dog?" Bill Dancing,somewhat clouded and not deeming it well to be drawn into any damagingadmissions, looked around for a cigar, and not seeing one, lookedsolemnly at the new Solomon and stroked his beard. "That is how itlooked to me at first," concluded the orator; "_but_, I say now itlooks good to me, and as a stranger I may say I favor it."

  Dancing tried to look unconcerned and seemed disposed to be friendly."What might be your line of business?"

  "Real estate. I am from Chicago. I sold everything that was for salein Chicago and came out here to stake out the Spanish Sinks and theGreat Salt Lake--yes. It's drying up and there's an immenseopportunity for claims along the shore. I've been looking into it."

  "Into the claims or into the lake?" asked McCloud.

  "Into both; and, Mr. McCloud, I want to say I favor Mr. Dancing'sidea, that's all. Right wrongs no man. Let Bill see Sinclair and seewhat they can figure out." And having spoken, the stranger sank backand tried to look comfortable.

  "I'll talk with you later about it, Bill," said McCloud briefly.

  "Meantime, Bill, see Sinclair and report," suggested the stranger.

  "It's as good as done," announced Dancing, taking up his hat, "and,Mr. McCloud, might I have a little advance for cigars and things?"

  "Cigars and ammunition--of course. See Sykes, William, see Sykes; ifthe office is closed go to his house--and see what will happen toyou--" added the visitor in an aside, "and tell him to telephone up toMr. McCloud for instruction," he concluded unceremoniously.

  "Now why do you want to start Bill on a fool business like that?"asked McCloud, as Bill Dancing took long steps from the room towardthe office of Sykes, the cashier.

  "He didn't know me to-day, but he will to-morrow," said the strangerreflectively. "Gods, what I've seen that man go through in the days ofthe giants! Why, George, this will keep the boys talking, and theyhave to do something. Spend the money; the company is making it toofast anyway; they moved twenty-two thousand cars one day last week.Personally I'm glad to have a little fun out of it; it will be hellpure and undefiled long before we get through. This will be an easyway of letting Sinclair know I am here. Bill will report meconfidentially to him as a suspicious personage."

  To the astonishment of Sykes, the superintendent confirmed over thetelephone Dancing's statement that he was to draw some expense money.Bill asked for twenty-five dollars. Sykes offered him two, and Billwith some indignation accepted five. He spent all of this in trying tofind Sinclair, and on the strength of his story to the boys borrowedfive dollars more to prosecute the search. At ten o'clock that nighthe ran into Sinclair playing cards in the big room above the ThreeHorses.

  The Three Horses still rears its hospitable two-story front in FortStreet, the only one of the Medicine Bend gambling houses that goesback to the days of '67; and it is the boast of its owners that sincethe key was thrown away, thirty-nine years ago, its doors have neverbeen closed, night or day, except once for two hours during thefuneral of Dave Hawk. Bill Dancing drew Sinclair from his game andtold him of the talk with McCloud, touching it up with naturalenthusiasm. The bridgeman took the news in hig
h good humor and slappedDancing on the back. "Did you see him alone, Bill?" asked Sinclair,with interest. "Come over here, come along. I want you to meet a goodfriend. Here, Harvey, shake hands with Bill Dancing. Bill, this is oldHarvey Du Sang, meanest man in the mountains to his enemies and thewhitest to his friends--eh, Harvey?"

  Harvey seemed uncommunicative. Studying his hand, he asked in a sourway whether it was a jackpot, and upon being told that it was not,pushed forward some chips and looked stupidly up--though Harvey was byno means stupid. "Proud to know you, sir," said Bill, bending franklyas he put out his hand. "Proud to know any friend of MurraySinclair's. What might be your business?"

  Again Du Sang appeared abstracted. He looked up at the giant lineman,who, in spite of his own size and strength, could have crushed himbetween his fingers, and hitched his chair a little, but got nofurther toward an answer and paid no attention whatever to Bill'sextended hand.

  "Cow business, Bill," interposed Sinclair. "Where? Why, up near thepark, Bill, up near the park. Bill is an old friend of mine, Harvey.Shake hands with George Seagrue, Bill, and you know Henry Karg--andold Stormy Gorman--well, I guess you know him too," exclaimedSinclair, introducing the other players. "Look here a minute,Harvey."

  Harvey, much against his inclination, was drawn from the table andretired with Sinclair and Dancing to an empty corner, where Dancingtold his story again. At the conclusion of it Harvey rather snorted.Sinclair asked questions. "Was anybody else there when you sawMcCloud, Bill?"

  "One man," answered Bill impressively.

  "Who?"

  "A stranger to me."

  "A stranger? What did he look like?"

  "Slender man and kind of odd talking, with a sandy mustache."

  "Hear his name?"

  "He told me his name, but it's skipped me, I declare. He's kind ofdark-complected like."

  "Stranger, eh?" mused Du Sang; his eyes were wandering over the room.

  "Slender man," repeated Bill, "but I didn't take much notice of him.Said he was in the real-estate business."

  "In the real-estate business? And did he sit there while you talkedthis over with the college guy?" muttered Du Sang.

  "He is all right, boys, and he said you'd know his name if I couldspeak it," declared Bill.

  "Look anything like that man standing with his hands in his pocketsover there by the wheel?" asked Du Sang, turning his back carefully ona new-comer as he made the suggestion.

  "Where--there? No! Yes, hold on, that's the man there now! Hold on,now!" urged Bill, struggling with the excitement of ten hours and tendollars all in one day. "His name sounded like Fogarty."

  As Dancing spoke, Sinclair's eyes riveted on the new face at the otherside of the gambling-room. "Fogarty, hell!" he exclaimed, starting."Stand right still, Du Sang; don't look around. That man is WhisperingSmith."