"Mr. Weir said a sheepherder found him. Wasn't that it, sir?"

The engineer turned to the rancher.

"Wasn't that the way of it?"

"Yes. Showed up here late and said he had found the man and carried him into the cabin. Said his wrecked car was still burning, so the accident couldn't have occurred very long previous. Said we ought to bring him down immediately as he was badly hurt. So I sent word to Dr.

Hosmer, and my girl and I set off at once, the sheepherder going back with us. Said he just happened to be looking for a stray sheep or he would never have come on this man, as he was heading his band for a pa.s.s to get over on the west side of the range. S'pose we'll never see him again."

"Do you know who this man is?"

"His face seems sort of familiar," Johnson replied, scratching his chin. "But he looks like a city chap, by his clothes, what's left of them. No papers or anything on him to tell his name. Might have come over the pa.s.s himself from the other side; men go everywhere in these hill-climbing cars they make nowadays."

"Somebody will be seeking information soon and then we'll know," the physician said. "He'll probably give his name and address himself when he comes round. But if I'm not mistaken he'll need another sort of car if he does any moving about when he's out of bed."

"Why's that?"

"Speaking off-hand, I'll say he'll never walk again. That's the way broken hips usually turn out; and if his spine is injured, as I suspect, he will probably be paralyzed from the waist down. Hard luck for a young man like him. He'll wish at times he was killed outright."

Un.o.bserved by the speaker Weir and Johnson exchanged a meaningful look. In the minds of both moved the same thought, that Providence had punished Ed Sorenson according to his sins and more adequately than could man. Dreadful years were before him. He would, in truth, wish a thousand times that he had died at the foot of the ledge.

Half an hour later the visitors had departed, the rancher going with the physician and his charge to Bowenville, Weir returning to San Mateo. Mary had driven the wagon up from the mouth of the canyon, unharnessed the horses, watered and fed them, and now was seated in the kitchen staring absently out the open door. After so much excitement she felt distrait, depressed.

Finally she produced and dried the papers over the stove, in which she had re-kindled a fire.

"Funny how anybody should want to talk or write anything but English,"

she remarked to herself, gazing at the pages.

She attempted to extract some sense from the strange words. At the bottom of the last sheet she deciphered, Felipe Martinez' name under the notorial acknowledgment. All at once in scanning certain lines she came on names that were plain enough--Sorenson, Vorse, Burkhardt, Gordon. The last must mean Judge Gordon. Then presently she found two more names that excited her curiosity--James Dent's and Joseph Weir's.

Springing to her feet she stared at the sheets in her hand. For some reason or other her blood was beating with an odd sensation of impending discovery.

"Why--why----" she stammered. "Why, those are the men father told about being shot, and him looking on as a boy! This is a queer paper!

I wish he were here."

Possession of it gave her a feeling of uneasiness. Her father had warned her never to speak of the matter to any one--and here was something about it in writing, or so she guessed. He had said Sorenson and the other men would kill him at once if they learned he had been a witness. That meant they would kill her too if they found out that she not only knew about their crime but had this paper as well.

She looked about. Finally she retied the doc.u.ment in a tea-towel, tight and secure, and buried it deep in the flour barrel. They would not think of looking in the flour. But she went to the door just the same and gazed anxiously down the canyon as if enemies might put their heads in sight that very minute.

CHAPTER XX

ANXIETIES

"My dear doctor, your talents are wasted in San Mateo. They should be employed in the larger field of diplomacy," said Steele Weir, when on his arrival from Terry Creek he was apprised of what had occurred during his absence.

"From all indications I shall have full opportunity for their use hereafter, whatever they may be, in our own bailiwick," Doctor Hosmer replied, smiling. "There's more going on in our village, apparently, than in many a small kingdom. I merely had Janet use the truth with certain limitations, and there's no wiser course when part of the facts are known. Sorenson seemed quite satisfied with her explanation."

The colloquy resulted from a meeting between Janet and the cattleman while Weir was guiding the young physician, summoned from Bowenville, to Johnson's ranch. Sorenson had appeared at the house about ten o'clock that morning desiring to see the girl. They had talked together on the veranda, where the visitor stated he had effected a settlement and obtained an acknowledgment from Martinez, who was trying to blackmail him and others; that a certain paper had been prepared by the lawyer for use in the disreputable business; that the man had said he had asked Janet to secure it from an old chair in his office; and he wished to learn if she had done so.

Janet had admitted such to be the case.

"It was odd Mr. Martinez should telephone me to go get it, wasn't it?"

she had asked. "But I went, and there it was stuffed in the lining of the chair."

"You have it then?" Sorenson stated, with a sigh of relief and his eyes kindling with eagerness.

"No, I haven't it now."

"What in heaven's name did you do with it?" he asked.

"As I was coming out of Mr. Martinez' office, there at the door was Ed. He had seen me go in and so stopped his car before the door; after a time he took the paper to see what it was."

"Then you didn't see its contents?"

"No; I didn't even open it."

"And he has it?"

"He had it the last I saw of the paper. He read it. First, he was going to burn it up because it made him angry, then he changed his mind, saying he would take it to show to you, as he thought you would be interested. Is there anything else you wish to know, Mr.

Sorenson?"

"Where did he go from there?"

"He drove away. From something he said, I judged that he planned to be away from home several days."

Revolting as it was to Janet to put so fair a face on Ed Sorenson's conduct, nevertheless she had braced herself to go through with the part and presented to the cattleman a clear, natural countenance. The very simplicity of her story, its directness, its accord with the facts as he knew them, carried conviction. Innocently drawn into the affair, she had, in his view, been quickly guided out again by Ed's luck and wit.

Ed had the deadly doc.u.ment. The four men concerned might breathe easily once more. Ed himself, in all probability, did not realize the true menace of old Saurez' deposition, or he would at once have brought it to him instead of continuing on his trip: the boy no doubt thought it sufficient to keep it until he returned or mailed it back from somewhere; he perhaps had taken it along for a more careful reading. Good boy, anyway. He had got possession of the thing, that was the main consideration.

"He told me too that he was leaving last evening for a few days'

jaunt," Sorenson said, rising to go. "You'll likely have a whole basketful of letters from him. Finest boy going, Ed, even if it's his own father who says it. But he's the lucky one, Janet." The girl lowered her eyelids, for at this flattery she felt she could no longer dissemble her feelings. "Sorry to have bothered you about the matter,"

he concluded. "Fellows like this Martinez are always making us trouble. Run over and eat dinner with us soon."

He went down the walk, large, dominant and still with a trace of his early cowman's walk. Both his step and his erectness bespoke the buoyant effect of the talk upon his spirits, which was not to be wondered at as he had splendid news to import to his confreres in crime. They would get rid of Martinez, destroy the paper when Ed delivered it, and their skeleton--this one (of a number) which had unexpectedly kicked the door open and started to dance in public--would be safely locked up forever. For Saurez, the only witness (as they believed) was now dead: he would make no more depositions. Certainly Sorenson had reason to walk briskly away from Doctor Hosmer's dwelling.

Janet had somberly watched him till he was out of sight, then had gone inside.

"I don't see how I ever imagined him an honorable man," she said to her father. "For all his pretended politeness he was ready if necessary to bully me. One thing he can't ever say is that I didn't tell him exact facts; what I omitted was the circ.u.mstances giving rise to the facts." And her father, who now knew from Weir the story of the happening of thirty years before, a.s.sured her that she need be troubled over no moral hairsplitting.

The incident, as Steele Weir perceived, diverted both suspicion and danger from Janet, at least for a time. A big gain that. And he was impressed by the subtle sagacity of the maneuver.

"That wasn't just a clever move, it was a flash of genius," he told father and daughter. Then after a few minutes more of talk he said: "Now I must be running up to the dam. To-day is Sunday and the works are quiet, so if I find everything all right I shall strike back immediately for Terry Creek and the cabin up above. I want to make a search for that paper by daylight."

"After your hard night?" Janet exclaimed. "I s.n.a.t.c.hed some sleep when we had done talking last night, but father says you and he had none.

You can't make that terrible ride again without rest!"