CHAPTER XVIII. “They’re in the Office!”

It was long after dark before the cowboys went to supper, but they had performed a good day’s work, and felt jolly over it. Claude was the liveliest one of the party. He conducted himself in such a way that his uncle looked at him with surprise, and he more than once caught the angry glances of the two squawmen fastened upon him with amazement. But Claude didn’t mind that. Within two hours he would see his uncle and post him in regard to the robbery, and that was all he cared for.

“You can look at me as angry as you have a mind to,” he kept saying to himself. “I will get a big sum of money for this evening’s work, and then I can go back to the city and live as I please. Five thousand dollars! One can see a heap of pleasure with that.”

Supper over, Claude went out to take care of his horse (we mean by that that he turned Page 221 him loose with the other horses, to feed during the night), and as he turned back to the house who should come up but Harding and his partner.

“Say,” said the former, looking all around to satisfy himself that nobody else was within hearing, “what made you act so during supper-time? Do you want everybody about the ranch to know what we are going to do?”

“No, but I felt so gay that I couldn’t hold in,” replied Claude. “I don’t care what they think. I shall soon have some money, and I can go back to the city with that. I think, as you do, that I am getting sick of this cattle business.”

“You are sure you can get that key?” asked Harding.

“I can try. If he keeps it in his trousers pocket I can get it.”

“That’s all we want you to do. Now remember and hold yourself in a bit. I am afraid of that Thompson. We will have to keep an eye out for him.”

“Are you going to shoot him?” asked Claude in some alarm.

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“Not if he behaves himself we won’t; but he does not want to come fooling around while we are in the office. We may not have a chance to speak to you to-morrow, and we want you to bear this in mind: as soon as it comes dark, and everybody on the ranch is asleep, you come out on the porch, and you will find us there.”

“I’ve got to saddle my horse, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you can do that after you find us. We will be out somewhere near the porch, and you can slip in and get the key. That’s all. Now, remember it, and you will know just what you have got to do.”

“Yes, I will remember it,” muttered Claude, as the squawmen walked away. “I must go and get my horse after the ranch has been aroused. That’s a pretty idea! Now I must go and find uncle.”

When Claude reached the porch, he found Carl sitting there in company with his father. Of course they were talking about the incidents that had transpired during the round-up—how this steer had got frightened and made a bee-line for the prairie, and how that one Page 223 had charged upon Thompson, who narrowly escaped being unhorsed—and they were having a hearty laugh over them. It was not Claude’s intention to say anything to his uncle while Carl was about. He sat down in a chair and waited impatiently for him to go.

“Well, Claude, you seemed to enjoy this round-up a great deal better than you did the one of last year,” said his uncle. “You must have met with some amusing scenes out there, judging by the way you conducted yourself at the table.”

“I did not see anything to laugh at,” replied Claude, “but I am more used to riding on horseback than I was a year ago, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. None of the cattle charged upon me, and so I got off safe.”

In spite of Claude’s impatience, it was nearly ten o’clock before his cousin thought it high time he was going to bed. They had a hard day’s work to perform on the morrow, and they needed some sleep to prepare for it. He bade his cousin good-night and went into the house; and no sooner had he done so than Claude made a motion enjoining silence upon Page 224 his uncle, and went first to one end of the porch, and then to the other, to make sure that there was no one listening to hear what he had to say. His uncle looked on with surprise, and when Claude seated himself he said:

“A person would think that you have some secret to tell me. Why don’t you want somebody to hear it?”

“Well, I guess you will think it is a secret by the time I tell it,” whispered Claude. “Uncle, there are two men here who have made up their minds to rob you to-morrow night.”

Claude thought that if that revelation had been made to him he would have gone wild over it. Instead of that, his uncle settled back in his chair and looked at him without speaking.

“They are Harding and his partner,” continued Claude. “They say that the reason they came here was to get a look at your safe.”

“How did you find it out?” asked Mr. Preston. He did not seem to be nervous at Page 225 all. He talked in his usual tone of voice, and in much the same manner that he would have discussed the round-up that was to come off the next day.

“I don’t know why they came to me about it, unless it was because I know where you keep the key,” replied Claude. “I agreed with them until I found out what they were going to do, and then I came to you with it.”

“Where do they think they will find the key?”

“I am to get the key, and I am to feel in your trousers pocket for it. They are no cattlemen, in the first place; and after they rob you they are going among the Sioux Indians, where they will be safe.”

“It is just as I expected,” said his uncle; “they are two squawmen beyond a doubt. You were to do nothing but get the key?”

“No, sir. They thought that was enough. I am not to be mixed up in the matter until it is all over.”

“Well, you go ahead, and when you come into my room I will come out to them. Good-night.”

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This was all that was said. Claude sat there in his chair and saw his uncle go into the house, and he felt his guiltiness. Mr. Preston did not say a word about rewarding him, and acted altogether as though he did not consider the matter of much moment.

“Does he intend to leave me out in the cold, I wonder?” soliloquized Claude. “If so, I am sorry I did not stay in with the squawmen. He is suspicious; I can see that plain enough. I wish the thing was over, and that the men were safe among the Sioux Indians.”

Mr. Preston had not passed a sleepless night. He got up bright and early, wished everybody good-morning, and one would not have supposed that he had listened to an astounding revelation the night before. He gave his orders in much the same way at the breakfast-table, and when he had seen the herdsmen go away he filled his pipe and sat on the porch to enjoy it. But there were two men about the house who, according to Claude’s way of thinking, acted as though they wanted to pitch into the squawmen then Page 227 and there, and end the matter. They were Thompson and the cook. The former glared savagely at them as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table, and the cook hung around the door of the dining-room, and that was a thing he had never done before, and waited for them to say or do something. Claude was in a fever of suspense. He saw it all plain enough, even if the squawmen did not.

“Say, Claude, you have been saying something to the old man,” said Harding, as the three moved off in a body to carry out Mr. Preston’s commands. “If you have, you may bet your bottom dollar that you won’t see any of his money.”

As the squawman spoke he laid his hand upon his revolver and scowled at Claude in a way that made him tremble. He knew what his fate would be if he did anything to confirm the man’s suspicions.

“What would I say to the old man?” he asked in a faint voice. “I am as deep in the mud as you are.”

“What made the foreman and cook look so cross at us?” asked Harding in reply.

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“I don’t know. He has just as much right to be mad at me as he has to feel mad at you.”

“We will go on with our programme just as we have planned it,” said Harding desperately. “If the thing works all right, well and good; if it don’t, it will be all wrong for somebody. Mind that.”

The day drew on and night came on apace, and still Claude had no chance to speak to the two squawmen. He had been given his lesson the night before, and he concluded that that was going to do. Now that the time drew near he was beset with fears to which he had hitherto been a stranger. Claude knew by the way Harding handled his revolver that he was going to shoot rather than allow his plans to fall through, and, although he had never heard of his uncle doing such a thing, he thought that he, too, would have recourse to firearms. And where would he be about the time the shooting began?

“I am really afraid I have got myself in a scrape,” thought Claude, so overcome with dread that it was all he could do to sit still on his horse. “I never dreamed of their shooting, Page 229 but that is the way all Western men have of getting out of a difficulty. I wish I had stayed in St. Louis when I was there. They don’t have any shooting going on in that place.”

Supper being over, Claude did not go out to attend his horse as usual. He whispered to one of the men to attend to it for him, and during the evening sat on the porch with his uncle and cousin. He sat there until ten o’clock, and then Carl said good-night and went to his room. His uncle sat still longer, but finally arose and followed Carl, at the same time laying his hand upon Claude’s arm.

“Is it all right?” said he.

“It is all right so far as I know,” said Claude. “I had a talk with them this morning, and they said they would go on with their regular plans. Be careful of yourself, uncle. They are going to shoot.”

“I will look out for myself. You keep out of the way.”

His uncle went to his room and Claude sat there on the porch, literally benumbed with fear. Finally he mustered up courage enough Page 230 to go into his room and lie down on the bed without removing his clothes. He lay there until twelve o’clock, and then, everything being still, he got up and sat on the bed.

“I wonder if those two men are as nervous as I am?” said Claude to himself. “I don’t intend to do anything myself, but I feel as guilty as though I had been caught in the act. Well, here goes.”

Claude got up and made his way to the front door, and when he had opened it very cautiously he saw Harding standing at the other end of the porch. The man straightened up, mounted the steps, and stood beside him.

“I thought you never was coming,” said he, and he fairly hissed out the words. “You see, if you had not come there would have been some murder done in this house.”

“Oh, I hope you will not try that,” said Claude.

“Then let the old man behave himself and do just as he is told. Now take us to the office, and then go and get the key.”

Claude pressed his hand against his heart to still its beatings and turned back into the Page 231 house. A few steps brought them to the door of the office. It was light in there, for the moon was shining out of doors, and the first thing Harding did was to step across the room and raise one of the windows, so that he and his companion could have a chance for escape. Then he motioned for Claude to go ahead; but now another thought occurred to him. Suppose Harding, instead of trusting him to go alone into the room, should send his partner with him? That would be a misfortune indeed, for he did not see how he was to convey to his uncle the information that the two squawmen were in his office. He dared not hesitate, but turned and went to his uncle’s room, and to his great delight he went alone. The men did not hear him as he walked along the hall, and when he approached the door of his uncle’s room, which always stood open, he discovered a figure on the bed, and he saw it rise up as he stepped across the threshold.

“Claude!” said his uncle.

“It is I,” replied Claude in a trembling voice. “They’re in the office!”

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Mr. Preston immediately arose, and in his hand, which he pulled out from under his pillow, was a revolver. It looked now as though his uncle was going to shoot, too.