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Updated: August 15, 2024
I'll get my horse and go with you." "Hold on!" yelled Hawe, as Stewart turned away. "Not so fast. Who's doin' this? You don't come no El Capitan stunts on me. You'll ride one of my pack-horses, an' you'll go in irons." "You want to handcuff me?" queried Stewart, with sudden swift start of passion. "Want to? Haw, haw!
Take even a little overbearin' Greaser talk. Be blind if he wants his gang to steal somethin'. Let him think the women hev mosied down to the ranch. But if he says you're lyin' if he as much as looks round to see the women jest jump him same as you jumped Pat Hawe.
You're afraid to go near the border. An' your hate of Gene Stewart makes you want to hound him an' put him where he's never been yet in jail. You want to spite his friends. Wal, listen, you lean-jawed, skunk-bitten coyote! Go ahead an' try to arrest him!" Stillwell took one mighty stride off the porch. His last words had been cold. His rage appeared to have been transferred to Hawe.
But perhaps the most wonderful, and apparently preternatural effect arising from this cause, is the spectre of the Hartz Mountains in Hanover. There is one particular hill, called the Brocken, in which he appears, terrifying the credulous, and gratifying the curious to a very high degree. The most distinct and interesting account is given by Mr. Hawe, who himself was a witness to it.
Stillwell appeared, ostensibly cheerful, too cheerful to deceive Madeline. She noted also that a number of armed cowboys were walking with their horses just below the house. "Wal, you-all had a nice little run," Stillwell said, speaking generally. "I reckon there wasn't much need of it. Pat Hawe thinks he's got some outlaws corralled on the ranch. Nothin' at all to be fussed up about.
The grinning, brilliant-eyed Don Carlos came jostling out beside a gaunt, sharp-featured man wearing a silver shield. This, no doubt, was Pat Hawe. In the background behind Stillwell and Alfred stood Nick Steele, head and shoulders over a number of vaqueros and cowboys. "Miss Hammond, I'm sorry you came," said Stewart, bluntly. "We're in a muddle here.
Pat Hawe was so set on doin' Gene dirt that he mixed up with Don Carlos. Bonita will tell you some staggerin' news about that outfit. Just now my story is all gold." Danny Mains got up and kicked back his chair. Blue lightning gleamed from his eyes as he thrust a hand toward Stillwell. "Bill, old pal, put her there give me your hand," he said. "You were always my friend. You had faith in me.
"I know you plugged that vaquero last fall, an' when I git my proof I'm comin' after you." "That's all right, Hawe. You can call me what you like, and you can come after me when you like," replied Stewart. "But you're going to get in bad with me. You're in bad now with Monty and Nels. Pretty soon you'll queer yourself with all the cowboys and the ranchers, too.
"Pat went red at thet, but he held in. 'Say, Stewart, you-all think a lot of thet roan horse of yourn, with the aristocratic name? "'I reckon I do, replied Gene, shortly. "'Wal, where is he? "'Thet's none of your business, Hawe. "'Oho! it ain't, hey? Wal, I guess I can make it my business. Stewart, there was some queer goings-on last night thet you know somethin' about.
Pat Hawe is with the posse that's trailing them, and you know Pat has no use for us. I'm afraid it wouldn't be pleasant for you or your guests to meet either the posse or the bandits." "I fancy not," said Madeline, considerably relieved. "We'll hurry back to the house." They exchanged no more speech at the moment, and Madeline's guests were silent.
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