"Well, gents," says I, "your umbrellas is in the hat rack. All aboard for Robbers' Roost, and don't forget the lunch."

Talking encourages me, and it seemed even betting whether me or Ginger was booked right through to glory. Yes, I talked to gain time for Ginger, and for me a little, even persuading the robbers to take no risks. I forgot how them sort of cattle drives by contraries. I only set their minds on coming, and heard their boss give orders.

He wanted me into the cabin, but I'd taken a dislike to catgut, so Ginger got orders to shoot me. At that I flared up. "Shoot," says I, "you skulking cowards, scared to show your noses at the door. Hold your off ear, Whiskers. Charge, you curs!"

The chief came first, straight at me, and seemed to climb over my foot on to his nose. Mr. Bull Brooke got hurt on the nose too, and I'd just time to hand the greaser a left hander behind the ear, before I went down on top of Whiskers, and the four of us rolled in a heap. I learned when I was a sailor how to argue.

Then I struggled, dragging my pile of robbers off sideways, so that to keep me covered with the gun, poor Ginger showed his red head in the doorway. It was his life or mine, yet when the shot rang out from across the river, and I saw the lad come crashing to the ground, I felt sort of sick. Of course that shot slacked the grip of the three robbers, so I wrenched loose, struck hard, and jumped high, gaining the north wall of the cabin. When I turned round, our boys across the river were pouring hot lead after the robbers as they dived through the door of the shack.

Ginger sprawled dead on the door-step, and my gun, six paces off, lay in the dust. The robbers were disarmed, and I was free.

"Boys," I called out to them, "you done like men. You put up a good fight and it ain't no shame to surrender."

Mr. Bull Brooke's voice answered.

"Jesse, old friend!"

I heard a crash inside and guessed that Mr. Brooke had been discouraged.

"Whiskers," I called, "don't make a mess of that cabin with Mr. Brooke."

"All right, young fellow," said Whiskers, "we've only put him back in the flour sack."

He spoke quite cheerful.

"Say, Whiskers," I called, "I want to save your lives, you and the greaser. Come and throw up your hands before you're hurt."

There was no answer. Rocky Mountain outlaws may be mean and bad, but they fight like Americans, and they know how to die. I'd only one way left to force their surrender, and save their lives, so I hustled brushwood, cord-wood, coal-oil from the shed, piled up the fuel, and got a sulphur match from the bunch in my hind pocket.

"Boys," I called, "Old Brown sort of values this place. It's all the home he's got, and it ain't insured."

No answer.

The little flame lep' up and caught the brushwood, the crackling lifted to a roar, and the robbers must surely know that their time was come, for if they showed at the door they would be shot. I grabbed my gun from the ground and ran to the doorway to stop our boys from firing. Then I shouted above the noise of the flames, "Come out and throw up your hands!"

They came, poor fellows, and I made them prisoners, marching them down to the ferry.

CHAPTER X

BREAKING THE STATUTES

_Kate's Narrative_

At Hundred Mile House the long table had been removed from the dining hall, the benches set back to the log walls, and at the head of the room an enormous Union Jack draped a very small portrait of Queen Victoria.

Beneath was the chair, in front of it a table set with writing materials and the Bible, while at one end the schoolma'am looked very self-conscious as clerk, in official black, with large red bows like signals of distress.

On the right sat Iron Dale, Jesse, and myself, and all our posse, very ill at ease. On the left were two gaunt American stockmen, both wearing hats, while one had the star of a United States marshal. Beside them sat the general public, consisting of Tearful George, two ranch-hands, an Indian, and the captain's bulldog. Wee James, the captain's grandson, sat with the dog at first, but presently he interrupted the court to say that he would like to sit on me. He sat with considerable weight for so small a person.

At Captain Taylor's entrance the constable ordered us all to stand.

Every inch a naval officer, bluff, ruddy, cheery, choleric, frightfully impressive in a frock coat, he wore a Russian order slung by a ribbon at his throat, and a little row of miniature war medals, the ribbons, alas, too small to show me of which campaigns. At sight of the two strangers he mounted a single eye-gla.s.s, and stared with growing wrath until they removed their hats. Then, taking the chair, he permitted us to be seated and ordered his constable to "Bring the prisoners aft."

Had our captives been washed and brushed, they might not have looked so wretched or so guilty. Old O'Flynn, described by Jesse as Whiskers, with his head in a blood-stained bandage, his right hand in a gory handkerchief, looked so ill that he was given a seat. The Mexican, whose beautiful leather dress, and soft dark eyes reminded me sharply of the opera-house, seemed like a trapped wolf, only thinking of escape to the nearest woods. Bull Durham's swaggering gallantry was marred by obvious traces of the flour sack wherein he had been immersed by his disgusted chief, and the shower of rain which followed.

"Prisoners," said the magistrate.

At that moment the United States marshal squirted tobacco juice, adroitly hitting a spittoon distant some fourteen feet.

"Constable," said the magistrate austerely, "remove that person until he has washed his mouth." Every man present had been furtively chewing tobacco, but no one who knew Captain Taylor in his official mood would have presumed to spit. Every jaw became rigid, every eye looked reproachfully at the marshal, who rose protesting in stately sentences that he represented the majesty of the people.

"Take his majesty out," said the captain with dreadful calmness, "and put him under the pump."

The representative of the stock a.s.sociations rose to support his countryman.

"Clap them in irons," said the captain. "I'll have no spitting on my quarter deck."

Jesse and Dale rose to a.s.sist the constable, and for some stirring moments we were threatened with international complications. Then in his quaint slow drawl my husband obtained leave to address the magistrate.

"I got an American book right here," said he, "in my hind pocket. It's called _Deportment for Gents_. In real high-toned society, this Honeypott claims that Amurrican gentlemen chews, but reserves the juice until they happens on a yaller dawg. Then they a.s.sists that dawg with his complexion."

The marshal stooped to pet the captain's bulldog.

"I'd help this yaller purp," said he, with a grave smile, "if I'd thicker pants."

The captain chuckled and the case went on, our visitors having "allowed that they didn't propose to chew in a court of justice."

"Prisoners," said our justice of the peace, laying his hand on the Bible, "this book contains the only law I know. I'm not here as judge or lawyer, but as one of Her Majesty's officers trusted to do the sporting thing, and to deal fairly and squarely with three innocent men who have the misfortune to be charged with crime. You've only to prove to me that you're innocent, and I have power to let you go free. But I warn you to tell the truth."

"Seems a square deal, Cap," said Whiskers.

"It is a square deal. Now, would you like to have some one of your countrymen as prisoners' friend?"

Whiskers looked reproachfully at the United States marshal who demanded his extradition, and the representative of stock a.s.sociations who offered fabulous rewards for his body "dead or alive."

"Wall," he drawled, "not exactly."

"You other prisoners. Do you accept this man as your spokesman?"

"_Si_, senor."

"That's all right," said Bull.

"Prisoner O'Flynn, you are charged with a.s.saulting a woman, you others with aiding and abetting. Guilty or not guilty?"

"It's a fact," said Whiskers sadly, "and all three of us wishes to say what's got to be said"--he drew himself up to his full height--"by gentlemen! We tried to force a lady to give her husband away. She shamed us, and we honors Mrs. Smith for what she done. She told us to go to blazes. Yes, sir! We just owns up that we're guilty as h.e.l.l, as the best way of showing our respect."

"Gentlemen," Captain Taylor spoke very gently. "I understand that you, O'Flynn, received two wounds in punishment, and that two of your comrades were killed by the men who avenged this affront. Is that true?"