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Updated: June 17, 2025
With these interests happily dovetailed, wonder at the sudden interest in art at the state capital must, necessarily, be small. Few artists have uncovered their first picture to the world under happier auspices than did Lonny Briscoe. Senators Kinney and Mullens came to an understanding in the matter of irrigation and art while partaking of long drinks in the café of the Empire Hotel.
They went back into the temple to take a look round, lanthorn in hand, and then had literally to drag themselves away from the sight of the vast treasure they were compelled to leave behind. "It's of no use," said Brace. "Come along. The more we look the more unwilling we shall be to leave." "I feel as if I can't leave it. I must stop and take care of the rest, even if I stay alone," said Briscoe.
In the light of after events, one might wonder if the genial, care-free Edward Briscoe remembered any detail of the discarded arrangement of the previous evening for the transportation of his transitory guest, Frank Dean, to Shaftesville; if he realized that at the moment when the revenue officer would have been starting on the journey, as the host had insistently planned it, he was himself at the turn of the road and just beyond the jutting crag; if he divined that the vibrations of the telephone wire had betrayed the matter to a crafty listening ear on the party-line in the vacant hotel across the ravine or was the time too short for the consideration?
At the first house that Bayne roused, he was encumbered and harassed by her strange intolerance that they should speak of Briscoe at all; for the summer sojourner was a favorite with his humble neighbors, and a great tumult of concern ensued on the suggestion that he had encountered disaster in some sort. It all seemed to the jealous mother-heart to minimize her own sacred grief.
"That?" said Brace, as he gazed in the direction named. "Yes, I suppose so. It will be very beautiful when the moon rises over the mountain there and lights up the great canon. I feel disposed to wait till it shines on the river." "Moon!" said Briscoe, who had returned unheard, smoking vigorously, and looking in the darkness as if a firefly were gliding to their side.
It was observable that the trigger finger of his right hand was missing. Also, there was a nasty scar on his right cheek running from the bridge of the nose halfway to the ear. This gave surplusage to the sinister appearance he already had. To him Briscoe spoke first, attempting a geniality he did not feel. "How're they coming, Texas?"
He was gazing down toward the bungalow where Briscoe stood at the head of the flight of the veranda steps, drawing on his driving gloves, while Fairy-foot, the fine mare, now resplendent in the least restrictions of harness that might control her bounding spirits and splendid strength, stood between the shafts of the dog-cart on the drive, a groom at her head, holding the bit. Mrs.
"No," said Briscoe; "there are too many boughs for it to have come through. It was sent from pretty close, I should say; and between ourselves I hope we shan't have any more. Ah, that's right, my lads. She's moving nicely now. I only wish you were able to row."
In the endeavor to discover some clue to identify that strange visitant of the smiling spring sunset, and thus reach other participants in the crime of the murder and the abduction, Bayne had the body conveyed to the Great Smoky Range, within the vicinity of the Briscoe bungalow, discerning from the speech of the man, as well as from his familiarity with the deed, that he was a native mountaineer.
"Why didn't you hold him with the line?" said the American drily. "Can't you see? It broke." And Lynton held out the end. "And can't you see? What sort of hook do you call this?" As he spoke Briscoe held out the gaff, which was nearly straightened out. "I guess," he continued, "that you people ought to make this sort of tools of hard steel and not of soft iron."
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