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Updated: May 21, 2025
A red ball was to be made for Blackberry, and a light blue one for Poppy. Goldenrod was to have a yellow one, and Silverbell a pink one. Miss Hart showed the girls how to crochet a round cover, hooping it to form a ball, and then stuffing it tightly with worsted just before finishing it. They made the four balls and tried to teach the kittens to remember their own colors.
From Silverbell a spur of railroad ran down to Redrock. Mr. Johnson's thought was to entrain himself for Tucson. The Midnight horse reached along in a brisk, swinging walk, an optimistic walk, good for four miles an hour.
The stage line swung aside in a huge half-circle, rounding the northern end of the Comobabi Range and swinging far out to skirt the foothills. Mr. Peter Johnson had never been to Silverbell: his own country lay far to the north, beyond the Gila. But he knew that Silverbell was somewhere east of the Comobabi, not north; and confidently struck out to find a short cut through the hills.
Johnson and his doings; second, he wrote to Mr. Mayer Zurich, at Cobre, and sent it by the first mail west, so that the stage should bring it to Cobre by the next night; third, he telegraphed to a trusty satellite at Silverbell, telling him to hold an automobile in readiness to carry a telegram to Mayer Zurich, should Dewing send such telegram later. Then Dewing lay down to snatch a little sleep.
If he does he'll have too big a start to be caught. But if he goes west, you can head him off and cut sign on him. Slim is at Silverbell, waiting with a car to bring you a wire from me, which I'll send only if Johnson goes west, or thereabouts. If I send the message at all, it should follow close on this letter. Slim drives his car like a drunk Indian. Be ready. Johnson is too much for me.
"'But who took that package out of the mail, Petey? It might have been any one of several or more old Zurich, here at Cobre; or the postmaster at Silverbell; or the postal clerks on the railroad; or the post-office people at El Paso. "'You're an old pig-headed fool, says Pete to me; 'and you lie like a thief.
"Cobre that's Mexican for copper is where we'll make our headquarters. You give me some paper and I'll make you a map mighty quick." Pete made a sketchy but fairly accurate map of Southern Arizona, with the main lines of railroad and the branches. "Here's Silverbell, at the end of this little spur of railroad.
Scotty delivered the telegram to his mate, who set off at a gallop for Tucson. Between them they covered the forty miles in four hours, or a little less. Before sunset an auto set out from Silverbell, bearing the message to Cobre. At that same sunset time, while Pete Johnson and his friends were yet far from Coyote Pass, Mayer Zurich, in Cobre, spoke harshly to Mr. Oscar Mitchell.
The yellow one was named Goldenrod, and the gray one Silverbell, and the four together made as pretty a picture as you could imagine. The girls spent an hour or more playing with them and watching their funny antics, and then Miss Hart proposed that they, crochet balls of different color for each little cat. Mrs. Spencer provided a box of worsted and they chose the colors.
Zurich handed out two fat letters with the postmark of Abingdon, New York. While Stanley read them, Zurich called across the store to a purchaser of cigars and tobacco: "Hello, Wiley! Thought you had gone to Silverbell so wild and fierce." "Am a-going now," said Wiley, "soon as I throw a couple or three drinks under my belt." "Say, Bat, do you think you'll make the morning train?
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