The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail [59]
that is of the world, the flesh, and the devil and--and I have not the courage to denounce it. She is--God help me--so--so wonderful--so wonderful."
"But, Mr. Smith," said Mandy, laying her hand upon his arm, and seeking to sooth his passion, "surely this dancing is--"
Loud cheers and clapping of hands from the house interrupted her. The man put his hands over his eyes as if to shut out a horrid vision, shuddered violently, and with a weird sound broke from her touch and fled into the bluff behind the house just as the party came streaming from the house preparatory to departing. It seemed to Mandy as if she had caught a glimpse of the inner chambers of a soul and had seen things too sacred to be uttered.
Among the last to leave were young Dent and the Inspector.
"We have found out the culprit," cried Dent, as he was saying good- night.
"The culprit?" said Mandy. "What do you mean?"
"The fellow who has engineered this whole business."
"Who is it?" said Cameron.
"Why, listen," said Dent. "Who got the logs from Bracken? Smith. Who got the Inspector to send men through the settlement? Smith. Who got the lumber out of the same Inspector? Smith. And the sash and doors out of Cochrane? Smith. And wiggled the shingles out of Newsome? And euchred old Scotty Hepburn into building the fireplace? And planned and bossed the whole job? Who? Smith. This whole business is Smith's work."
"And where is Smith? Have you seen him, Mandy? We have not thanked him," said Cameron.
"He is gone, I think," said Mandy. "He left some time ago. We shall thank him later. But I am sure we owe a great deal to you, Inspector Dickson, to you, Mr. Dent, and indeed to all our friends," she added, as she bade them good-night.
For some moments they lingered in the moonlight.
"To think that this is Smith's work!" said Cameron, waving his hand toward the house. "That queer chap! One thing I have learned, never to judge a man by his legs again."
"He is a fine fellow," said Mandy indignantly, "and with a fine soul in spite of--"
"His wobbly legs," said her husband smiling.
"It's a shame, Allan. What difference does it make what kind of legs a man has?"
"Very true," replied her husband smiling, "and if you knew your Bible better, Mandy, you would have found excellent authority for your position in the words of the psalmist, 'The Lord taketh no pleasure in the legs of a man.' But, say, it is a joke," he added, "to think of this being Smith's work."
CHAPTER XII
IN THE SUN DANCE CANYON
But they were not yet done with Smith, for as they turned to pass into the house a series of shrill cries from the bluff behind pierced the stillness of the night.
"Help! Help! Murder! Help! I've got him! Help! I've got him!"
Shaking off the clutching hands of his wife and sister, Cameron darted into the bluff and found two figures frantically struggling upon the ground. The moonlight trickling through the branches revealed the man on top to be an Indian with a knife in his hand, but he was held in such close embrace that he could not strike.
"Hold up!" cried Cameron, seizing the Indian by the wrist. "Stop that! Let him go!" he cried to the man below. "I've got him safe enough. Let him go! Let him go, I tell you! Now, then, get up! Get up, both of you!"
The under man released his grip, allowed the Indian to rise and got himself to his feet.
"Come out into the light!" said Cameron sharply, leading the Indian out of the bluff, followed by the other, still panting. Here they were joined by the ladies. "Now, then, what the deuce is all this row?" inquired Cameron.
"Why, it's Mr. Smith!" cried Mandy.
"Smith again! More of Smith's work, eh? Well, this beats me," said her husband. For some moments Cameron stood surveying the group, the Indian silent and immobile as one of the poplar trees beside him, the ladies with faces white, Smith disheveled in garb, pale and panting and evidently under great excitement. Cameron burst into a loud laugh. Smith's pale face flushed a
"But, Mr. Smith," said Mandy, laying her hand upon his arm, and seeking to sooth his passion, "surely this dancing is--"
Loud cheers and clapping of hands from the house interrupted her. The man put his hands over his eyes as if to shut out a horrid vision, shuddered violently, and with a weird sound broke from her touch and fled into the bluff behind the house just as the party came streaming from the house preparatory to departing. It seemed to Mandy as if she had caught a glimpse of the inner chambers of a soul and had seen things too sacred to be uttered.
Among the last to leave were young Dent and the Inspector.
"We have found out the culprit," cried Dent, as he was saying good- night.
"The culprit?" said Mandy. "What do you mean?"
"The fellow who has engineered this whole business."
"Who is it?" said Cameron.
"Why, listen," said Dent. "Who got the logs from Bracken? Smith. Who got the Inspector to send men through the settlement? Smith. Who got the lumber out of the same Inspector? Smith. And the sash and doors out of Cochrane? Smith. And wiggled the shingles out of Newsome? And euchred old Scotty Hepburn into building the fireplace? And planned and bossed the whole job? Who? Smith. This whole business is Smith's work."
"And where is Smith? Have you seen him, Mandy? We have not thanked him," said Cameron.
"He is gone, I think," said Mandy. "He left some time ago. We shall thank him later. But I am sure we owe a great deal to you, Inspector Dickson, to you, Mr. Dent, and indeed to all our friends," she added, as she bade them good-night.
For some moments they lingered in the moonlight.
"To think that this is Smith's work!" said Cameron, waving his hand toward the house. "That queer chap! One thing I have learned, never to judge a man by his legs again."
"He is a fine fellow," said Mandy indignantly, "and with a fine soul in spite of--"
"His wobbly legs," said her husband smiling.
"It's a shame, Allan. What difference does it make what kind of legs a man has?"
"Very true," replied her husband smiling, "and if you knew your Bible better, Mandy, you would have found excellent authority for your position in the words of the psalmist, 'The Lord taketh no pleasure in the legs of a man.' But, say, it is a joke," he added, "to think of this being Smith's work."
CHAPTER XII
IN THE SUN DANCE CANYON
But they were not yet done with Smith, for as they turned to pass into the house a series of shrill cries from the bluff behind pierced the stillness of the night.
"Help! Help! Murder! Help! I've got him! Help! I've got him!"
Shaking off the clutching hands of his wife and sister, Cameron darted into the bluff and found two figures frantically struggling upon the ground. The moonlight trickling through the branches revealed the man on top to be an Indian with a knife in his hand, but he was held in such close embrace that he could not strike.
"Hold up!" cried Cameron, seizing the Indian by the wrist. "Stop that! Let him go!" he cried to the man below. "I've got him safe enough. Let him go! Let him go, I tell you! Now, then, get up! Get up, both of you!"
The under man released his grip, allowed the Indian to rise and got himself to his feet.
"Come out into the light!" said Cameron sharply, leading the Indian out of the bluff, followed by the other, still panting. Here they were joined by the ladies. "Now, then, what the deuce is all this row?" inquired Cameron.
"Why, it's Mr. Smith!" cried Mandy.
"Smith again! More of Smith's work, eh? Well, this beats me," said her husband. For some moments Cameron stood surveying the group, the Indian silent and immobile as one of the poplar trees beside him, the ladies with faces white, Smith disheveled in garb, pale and panting and evidently under great excitement. Cameron burst into a loud laugh. Smith's pale face flushed a