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He would have stayed here long enough to get a clear title to the Double A, and then he would have turned it over to us for a consideration. It rather looks as though we are stumped, eh?" Dale frowned. Then he got up, went to a drawer in the desk before which Silverthorn sat, and drew out a letter the letter young Bransford had written to his father about a year before.
Whenever crime and dishonesty raised their heads in Okar, Judge Graney pinned them to the wall with the sword of justice, and called upon all men to come and look upon his deeds. Maison, Silverthorn, and Dale and others of their ilk seldom called upon the judge for advice. They knew he did not deal in their kind.
After I had been graduated, and had entered the Law School, Silverthorn and Vibbard came to my room one day, on a singular errand, which though I did not guess it then was to influence their lives for many a year afterward. "Ferguson," began Bill, rather shyly, when they had seated themselves, "I suppose you know enough of law, by this time, to draw up a paper."
If he had judged the man correctly, Maison would not talk, even to Silverthorn. Sanderson cared very little if he did talk. He had reached the point where the killing of his enemies would come easy to him. They had chosen lawlessness, and he could wage that kind of warfare as well as they. He had shown them that he could. He disclosed the visible proof of his ability.
There was a mirthless grin on his face. He spoke loudly, calling the jailer. When the latter appeared in the corridor beside Silverthorn, Sanderson addressed him without looking at the other: "You ain't on your job a heap, are you? There's a locoed coyote barkin' at me through the door, there. Run him out, will you he's disturbin' me plenty."
And I've got four thousand that belongs to that four-flusher, Square Deal. Seven thousand." He laughed again. "Where is Sanderson?" questioned the girl. "In jail, over in Okar." Dale paused long enough to enjoy the girl's distress. Then he continued: "Owen is in jail, too, by this time. Silverthorn and Maison are not taking any chances on letting him go around loose."
Silverthorn's lips certainly curled with contempt now. Vibbard answered: "I heard you pleading with Ida to promise herself to you." "That's a lie," said Silverthorn, calmly. "Didn't you say to her, 'You have never yet fully engaged yourself to me? Weren't you pleading?" "Yes.
'Oh I shall go to my granny's, she replied with some gloom; 'and have breakfast, and dinner, and tea with her, I suppose; and in the evening I shall go home to Silverthorn Dairy, and perhaps Jim will come to meet me, and all will be the same as usual. 'Who is Jim? 'O, he's nobody only the young man I've got to marry some day. 'What! you engaged to be married?
Ida, as she passed out, broke off a spray and put it in her hair, wishing that its faint perfume might be a spell to bring Silverthorn back. On the edge of the wood where she had been idly pacing for a few minutes, all at once she heard a crackling of twigs and dry leaves under somebody's active tread, just behind her. It did not sound like her lover's step. She looked around.
Shortly after dusk on the same night Silverthorn, Dale, and Maison were sitting at a table in Maison's private office in the bank building. They, too, were playing cards. But their thoughts were not on the cards. Elation filled their hearts. Dale was dealing, but it was plain that he took no interest in the game.
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