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Updated: June 28, 2025
Do you know his friends the bunch he trails with?" Wariness still seemed to crouch in the cool eyes of Flandrau. "And if I say yes, I'll bet your next question will be about the time and the place I last saw them." Kate picked up a photograph from the table and handed it to the prisoner. "We're not interested in his friends except one of them. Did you ever see the boy that sat for that picture?"
The stolen animals were sold here this morning, after which the buyers set out at once for the border and the thieves made themselves scarce. It is claimed that the rustlers were members of the notorious Soapy Stone outfit. Two of the four were identified, it is alleged, as William Cranston, generally known as "Bad Bill," and a young vaquero called "Curly" Flandrau.
They did the town together in a mild fashion and Flandrau proposed that they save money by taking a common room. To this young Cullison agreed. Luck, Curly and Dick Maloney had already ridden over the country surrounding the scene of the projected hold-up.
The excitement at the Circle C increased. Horses cantered up. Men shouted to each other the news. Occasionally some one came in to have a look at the "bad man" who had shot Luck Cullison. Young Flandrau lay on a cot and stared at the ceiling, paying no more attention to them than if they had been blocks of wood.
She fancied that his even grayness might reveal a thousand tints of lavender and blue and silver. At supper he hinted his love for Sir Thomas Browne, Thoreau, Agnes Repplier, Arthur Symons, Claude Washburn, Charles Flandrau. He presented his idols diffidently, but he expanded in Carol's bookishness, in Miss Sherwin's voluminous praise, in Kennicott's tolerance of any one who amused his wife.
"I see the Sentinel hints that Mr. Curly Flandrau had better be lynched," he jeered. "The Sentinel don't always hit the bull's-eye, Soapy," returned the young man evenly. "It thinks I belong to the Soapy Stone outfit, but we know I haven't that honor." "There's no such outfit not in the sense he means," snapped the man on the lounge. "What are your plans? Where you going to lie low?
After half a week in the saddle Lieutenant Bucky O'Connor of the Arizona Rangers and Curly Flandrau reached Saguache tired and travel-stained. They had combed the Rincons without having met hide or hair of the men they wanted. Early next morning they would leave town again and this time would make for Soapy Stone's horse ranch. Bucky O'Connor was not disheartened.
Flandrau took the trail again next morning after breakfast. About two o'clock he reached a little park in the hills, in the middle of which, by a dry creek, lay a ranch. The young man at first thought the place was deserted for the day, but when he called a girl appeared at the door.
As the eavesdropper slid to a seat a phonograph in front began the Merry Widow waltz. Noiselessly Flandrau stood on the cushioned bench with his ear close to the top of the dividing wall. He could hear a murmur of voices but could not make out a word. The record on the instrument wheezed to silence, but immediately a rag-time tune followed. Presently the music died away.
Not content with this, he made the whole party adjourn to the club rooms so that he might see exactly where Luck had sat and the different places the sheepman had stood from the time he entered until the poker players left. Together Billie Mackenzie and Alec Flandrau dramatized the scene for the young people.
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