his treasure. The belt was loaded with fat $20 gold pieces, laid side by side, and it was almost heavy enough to make a load in itself. Forty or fifty pounds, he reckoned its weight, and, when he counted the coins, he found that there were exactly 250 of them. In this division of his capture he had scooped in an even $5,000!
But that was not all. Opening the wallet, he found it neatly and thickly stacked with bills. It was no wonder that fat Jarvin had surrendered the wallet even less willingly than he had surrendered the belt with its load of gold. That little sheaf of government promises to pay totaled a full $12,000!
Even Peter was a little impressed. He counted the money again. Then he went through the coat. There was a tangle of papers and notes and odds and ends. He emptied all of these into his saddlebags, to be examined at his leisure. As for the coat, he burnedit in the last of his fire, after which he still delayed to stamp out the last embers, then kicked the ashes and the blackened remains of the fire beneath the bushes. He threw some quantities of pine needles over the spot, mounted his mustang, and started back.
He felt it was more or less his duty to look at the spot where he had left the Buttrick brothers lying in the road, but a little reflection convinced him that Lefty, who he had thrown down with his hand, might have been stunned, but he could not have been seriously injured. He would recover and give help to Dan. Even about Dan, Peter was not worried. For he had fired low; the slug must have passed through the legs.
So he swung back toward the ranch house. When he got to the barn, he was glad to see that his father was not there, pondering over the absence of the horse. Behind the barn, beneath the big, half-rotted foundation beams, he found a nook that served him perfectly for secreting the papers that he had taken from Jarvin. As for the money, he carried it with him as he journeyed toward the house.
He passed the side gate as softly as he could, and then he journeyed around toward the front of the house, guided by a pungency of tobacco that streaked the air. He saw the shadowy bulk of his father, the glowing spot that marked the bowl of the pipe, and then, pulsing out of darkness above it as the smoker puffed, the shadowy features of Ross Hale.
“Hello!” called the father.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Have you finished up them dishes?”
“Yes.”
“Reckon that you must’ve made a real polishing job of it, Pete. Took you quite a spell, didn’t it?”
“The sink needed a scrubbing,” said Peter. “That was all. The night is turning out warm, eh?”
“Fairly warm, maybe, but I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“About what, then?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me, will you.”
“It’s a thing that you can’t help in, Pete.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a money matter.”
“You’ve got money to pay, then?” said Peter.
“I’ve got money to pay. Plenty of money to pay, old son.”
“How much and when?”
“What good would it do to tell you?”
“Because I have friends, Dad, who can make a quick turn and scrape up quite a lot of money without hurting themselves any. They would scrape it up for me, I think. Any sum in reason, I mean to say.”
Mr. Hale considered this for a gloomy moment, and then a bit of life entered his voice. “I’ve still got near onto three weeks. Then the bank drops on me, Peter.”
“For how much?”
“I’m pretty near ashamed to say. You know how many acres we got here?”
“Six hundred and some odd.”
“Six hundred!” cried his father.
“That’s what it is, I believe.”
“Six hundred! I’d almost forgot that we ever had that much land, Peter. No, I’ve had to give up a bite here and a mite there. We haven’t two hundred and fifty left.”
“Two hundred and fifty! Who got the rest of it?”
“Your Uncle Andy, mostly. The Swains got a couple of corners, but Andy come in for most of it.”
“By the way, how much land
But that was not all. Opening the wallet, he found it neatly and thickly stacked with bills. It was no wonder that fat Jarvin had surrendered the wallet even less willingly than he had surrendered the belt with its load of gold. That little sheaf of government promises to pay totaled a full $12,000!
Even Peter was a little impressed. He counted the money again. Then he went through the coat. There was a tangle of papers and notes and odds and ends. He emptied all of these into his saddlebags, to be examined at his leisure. As for the coat, he burnedit in the last of his fire, after which he still delayed to stamp out the last embers, then kicked the ashes and the blackened remains of the fire beneath the bushes. He threw some quantities of pine needles over the spot, mounted his mustang, and started back.
He felt it was more or less his duty to look at the spot where he had left the Buttrick brothers lying in the road, but a little reflection convinced him that Lefty, who he had thrown down with his hand, might have been stunned, but he could not have been seriously injured. He would recover and give help to Dan. Even about Dan, Peter was not worried. For he had fired low; the slug must have passed through the legs.
So he swung back toward the ranch house. When he got to the barn, he was glad to see that his father was not there, pondering over the absence of the horse. Behind the barn, beneath the big, half-rotted foundation beams, he found a nook that served him perfectly for secreting the papers that he had taken from Jarvin. As for the money, he carried it with him as he journeyed toward the house.
He passed the side gate as softly as he could, and then he journeyed around toward the front of the house, guided by a pungency of tobacco that streaked the air. He saw the shadowy bulk of his father, the glowing spot that marked the bowl of the pipe, and then, pulsing out of darkness above it as the smoker puffed, the shadowy features of Ross Hale.
“Hello!” called the father.
“Hello, Dad.”
“Have you finished up them dishes?”
“Yes.”
“Reckon that you must’ve made a real polishing job of it, Pete. Took you quite a spell, didn’t it?”
“The sink needed a scrubbing,” said Peter. “That was all. The night is turning out warm, eh?”
“Fairly warm, maybe, but I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“About what, then?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me, will you.”
“It’s a thing that you can’t help in, Pete.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a money matter.”
“You’ve got money to pay, then?” said Peter.
“I’ve got money to pay. Plenty of money to pay, old son.”
“How much and when?”
“What good would it do to tell you?”
“Because I have friends, Dad, who can make a quick turn and scrape up quite a lot of money without hurting themselves any. They would scrape it up for me, I think. Any sum in reason, I mean to say.”
Mr. Hale considered this for a gloomy moment, and then a bit of life entered his voice. “I’ve still got near onto three weeks. Then the bank drops on me, Peter.”
“For how much?”
“I’m pretty near ashamed to say. You know how many acres we got here?”
“Six hundred and some odd.”
“Six hundred!” cried his father.
“That’s what it is, I believe.”
“Six hundred! I’d almost forgot that we ever had that much land, Peter. No, I’ve had to give up a bite here and a mite there. We haven’t two hundred and fifty left.”
“Two hundred and fifty! Who got the rest of it?”
“Your Uncle Andy, mostly. The Swains got a couple of corners, but Andy come in for most of it.”
“By the way, how much land
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