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Photographer's Evidence

[156] <h2>CHAPTER XIII. AN ARREST.</h2> Nick’s breath was knocked out of him, but he was not stunned. He knew partly what had happened. It was a wild beast that had borne him to the ground. Kerr’s remarks about the “panther scare” flashed upon his memory. Evidently, this beast had sprung upon him from the top of the ledge. He could feel the great limbs quivering, and one of the claws scratched his hand. All this was in a quarter of a second. In the next second, Nick had exerted all his giant strength, and rolled the beast over. He got upon his knees and fired his revolver three times in rapid succession at the huge carcass that he could feel but not see in front of him. Then a rough, surprised voice interrupted him. “Geewhilikins! how many of ’em be ye, anyway?” “Only one, stranger,” replied Nick, getting to his feet. [157] “Gosh! I thought it mought be a regiment by the way ye fired. Got a double-quick action repeater, ain’t ye?” Nick did not reply at once. The beast was still clawing the ground frantically, and he was not sure that another dose of lead was not necessary. Then a little flame glowed in the darkness near by. The man who had spoken to him had struck a match. He held it first over the dying panther, for such it was, and then remarked, in a satisfied tone: “Done for. Four times dead, I reckon.” Then he took a step forward and held the match close to Nick’s face. The men looked at each other in silence for a moment. Nick saw a surprised, honest-looking face—that of a hardy backwoodsman—and he caught a glimpse of the rifle that the man held loosely in the hollow of his arm. The backwoodsman saw a well-dressed tenderfoot, whose coat was torn by the panther’s claw, whose face was grimed with dirt and smeared with blood. “By golly, stranger,” said the backwoodsman, “you’re not jest fit to enter a beauty show—not but what ye may be a slick-lookin’ chap when yer face is washed.” [158] The detective laughed heartily. “I reckon, pard,” he said, “that you saved my life.” “Reckon I did,” returned the other, quietly, “but I come close to killin’ you to do it.” “I felt your bullet hiss past my face.” “So? Should ha’ thought that mought have scared ye to death.” “Oh, no, I’m used to that.” “You don’t say!” “But I’m not used to enemies that spring on a man in the dark without making any noise of warning. That’s what the panther did.” “Yes, he’d ha’ had ye, sure, ef I hadn’t been here to fire.” “It was good luck.” “Wal, I dunno about the luck of it. I was here on purpose. Been a-lookin’ fer that critter.” “Indeed!” “Yes; the pesky varmint has been worryin’ the life out of us, and to-night I jest made up my mind that I’d get him. I was pretty durn certain he’d be on the trail somewhere, fer there’s enough as comes over it, you know, to give the scent. I thought he’d be watchin’ fer prey, but[159] I didn’t have no idee that he’d git a chance at any. That’s whar I’m s’prised. How come ye here, stranger?” “I’ll tell you in a minute,” Nick answered; “just explain to me first how you managed to take that shot in time. I heard the beast springing just as you fired.” “Why!” said the backwoodsman, “I was waitin’ here, hopin’ the scent of me would bring the varmint along, and, of course, I wasn’t makin’ no noise about it. “Then I heard steps—your’n, you know—and I was wondering about it as you come down the steep part of the trail. “Ef you look up at the top of the ledge thar you’ll see that the risin’ moon makes the top line quite clear. “Wal, I had my gun up, fer I didn’t know but what you might be an enemy, when, all of a suddent, I saw a black mass on the clear edge of the rock up thar. “I knowed what it was, and the thing jumped. “Thar wasn’t no time to think about it. “I knowed the critter had spied you, and was springin’ fer ye, and I had to fire then, or not at all. “So I blazed while the beast was in the air. “It was too late to save you from a knock down, but the critter was dead when he hit you. Them shots of[160] yours was mighty slick ones, comin’ as fast as they did, just as ef you was out practicin’ at a target, but they was good powder and lead throwed away.” “I can spare the powder and lead,” Nick responded, “and at the time I couldn’t believe that the panther had been hit in the heart. He was making a furious struggle.” “Yes,” drawled the backwoodsman, “it takes them critters some time to die. But how’d you come here?” “I was going along the road on horseback when the animal died suddenly.” “Died!” “Shot.” “Gosh!” “It was meant for me.” “Huh! Robbers?” “Perhaps, but they let me alone.” “Mebbe they knowed you was handy with a gun?” “I shouldn’t wonder. Anyhow, I had business out this way, so I came along. I took the trail to save time.” “So! Business out here, you say.” “Yes. I’m looking for Hank Low’s place. I presume it’s not much further, is it?” [161] “Hank Low’s! No, it ain’t much further—’bout two gunshots.” There was surprise and suspicion in the man’s tone. “This trail will bring me there, I suppose,” said Nick. “’Twill if ye follow it far enough.” “Then I shall have to go on. I’m much obliged——” “Hold on, stranger! What’s yer business with Hank Low?” “I’ll tell that to Low.” “Then you can tell it to me.” “Why, are you——” “Yes, I am. My name’s Hank Low.” Nick had guessed as much. He held out his hand in the darkness and grasped that of the man who had saved his life. Low returned the grasp rather feebly. “Mr. Low,” said Nick, “I am more obliged to you than ever.” “What do you want of me?” demanded Low, in a surly tone. “I want to talk to you about the land you sold some months ago.” “Do you belong to the company that bought it?” [162] The question came quickly, and Low’s voice was harsh. There was no longer the good-natured tone in which he had spoken while talking about the panther. “No,” replied Nick, “I haven’t anything to do with the company. I heard you were swindled.” “That was it, stranger!” cried Low; “nothing short of it. People say I was beat in a business deal, but I’m tellin’ ye it wasn’t a squar’ deal.” “I’d like to know all about it.” “What’s yer name?” “Nicholas.” “Be you a lawyer?” “Not exactly, but I may be able to set you right in some ways that you may not have thought of.” “Wal, Mr. Nicholas, come down to the house. I’ve got nothin’ to hold back, and ef you’re interested, you can hear the whole story.” Low talked as they walked along through the woods. His voice continued to be harsh, as he told of the trick that had been played upon him, but Nick saw that Claymore had kept well within the law. “It wasn’t fair,” thought the detective, “but it was what[163] would be called a business deal, and Low was beaten. No wonder he feels sore, but he can’t do anything about it.” Of course, Low mentioned the Rev. Elijah Judson in the course of his story. His voice was more angry at this point. “I can’t understand an out-an’-out villain,” said he, “but it seems a durned sight worse when a preacher takes to swindling, now don’t it, Mr. Nicholas?” “I should say so,” replied Nick, “if I was sure that the preacher had known that the scheme was unfair.” “Know! How could he help it? Ain’t he president of the company?” “He was.” “Was? Ef he ain’t now, then thar’s been a mighty sudden change. Will ye come into the house, Mr. Nicholas?” They had come to cleared land at the bottom of the hill, and Low’s house was plainly seen in the moonlight a few rods away. None of the windows were lighted. “No,” said Nick; “your wife and children are asleep by this time, and we might wake them up. We can talk out here just as well, can’t we?” [164] “Sure.” They sat down on a log near a shallow brook that crossed the farm. The moon rays reflected from the water straight into Nick’s eyes, and his attention was curiously attracted. “Must be handy having running water on your place,” he remarked. “Huh!” returned Low, “that’s whar you reckon wrong. I thought so when I took this land, and I found out my mistake too late.” “What’s the matter?” “Durned ef I know. The cattle won’t drink it, and I don’t like the taste myself. I’ve had to dig a well up on the hill thar and run the water to my house and barn through pipes. That cost a good bit, but it was the only way I could get water that would do.” They were silent for a moment. Then Low said: “I seen that cuss, Judson, to-day.” “So?” “Yes. He was up here with Claymore in the early morning. I met ’em and we had a jawin’ match. I spoke pretty hot, I reckon, but I can’t help it when I think how I’ve been used. Thar’s my wife and children, you see.[165] I never have been able to give them the nice things I’d like to. Ef they had let me in on the deal I mought ha’ got money enough to dress my children right smart and send them to school in the city.” “What should you say,” suggested Nick, “if you heard that the company had got left in buying your land.” “Eh? Got left? What do you mean?” “Suppose that, after all, the land proves to be as worthless as you thought?” “B’gosh! ’twould serve ’em right.” “I guess that’s the case.” “Wal, I’m durn glad to hear it, but it don’t make me feel any better toward those swindlers. I kind o’ thought the preacher chap wanted to squar’ things, but I found I was mistaken.” “So? How was that?” “He met me again in the city, and asked me to call on him at the hotel. Reckon he had some new, slick scheme up his sleeve.” “Did you call on him?” “Yep.” “Well?” “He wouldn’t see me.” [166] “That’s odd.” “I thought so at the time. I told him I’d be there at half-past three, and he said he’d wait for me. I was there on time, and I went right up to his room.” “What did he say?” “Say? He didn’t say nothin’. I didn’t see him. He wouldn’t let me in.” “Did he know you were there?” “Sure! I knocked, and heard somebody stirrin’ in the room. I’m sure of that. So, when he didn’t say ‘Come in,’ I knocked again. ‘It’s Hank Low,’ says I, loud and sharp. ‘Ef you want to see me, speak up quick, fer I ain’t got any time to waste on ye.’ “Thar wa’n’t no answer to that, so I sung out that he was off, and I waltzed downstairs fast. “I was kind o’ ’fraid he might call me back, and I didn’t want to hear him, for I was as mad as a hornet, and I was afraid that ef him and me got together thar’d be trouble.” “Did you leave the hotel at once?” “Yep. Drove straight home and didn’t see him then, nor since.” [167] “Did you notice any excitement around the hotel as you drove away?” “Excitement? Reckon not. A feller I know spoke to me, but I was too durn mad to answer him decent.” “But didn’t you notice anything else?” Low thought a moment. “Now I think of it,” he said, “I do remember seein’ two or three men runnin’ down the street at the side of the hotel, but I was so durn mad that I didn’t turn my head. The hull town mought ha’ been on fire fer all I cared. I was thinkin’ of how I’d been cheated.” “I understand.” If Nick had had any doubt of this man’s innocence it was all gone now. Low was no actor; just a plain, honest farmer—bullheaded, quick-tempered and unreasonable, perhaps, but no murderer. He couldn’t have told his story of the afternoon in that straightforward way, if he had been guilty. “Mr. Low,” said Nick, after a pause, “Judson is dead.” “Dead!” repeated the farmer, in a tone that showed the greatest surprise. “How long since, Mr. Nicholas?” “He died while you were at the door to his room.” [168] “You don’t mean it!” “He was murdered.” “Wha-a-a-t!” “Thrown from his window to the sidewalk.” “Good Lord! Then that was what those men were runnin’ for.” “Yes—they went to pick him up.” The farmer sat with his elbows on his knees, staring open-mouthed at Nick. “That’s awful, ain’t it?” he whispered. “It is,” said Nick, “and there’s something else that is still more awful.” He paused, but Low said nothing. “It is perfectly well known,” Nick added, “that you started up to Judson’s room just before the deed.” Low became very attentive, but it was plain that the truth was not dawning on him yet. “And that you came down again in a hurry,” added the detective, “immediately afterward. It is also well known that you threatened Mr. Judson——” This was enough. The light burst upon the honest farmer suddenly. [169] In the moonlight, his face was ghastly white, and his voice almost choked, as he said: “Mr. Nicholas, you don’t mean to set thar an’ tell me thar’s folks as say I done it?” “That is what they say,” returned Nick, quietly. Low groaned, and buried his face in his hands. “My wife has often told me,” he sobbed, “that that sharp tongue of mine would git me into trouble. I see! It all fits in like the handle into an ax.” “Listen,” said Nick. “There isn’t going to be as much trouble as you think for. I told you that I was not a lawyer, but that I might be able to help you. I am a detective, Mr. Low.” The farmer uncovered his face and looked frightened now. “I said my name was Nicholas,” the detective went on, “and that was the truth, but only a part of it. My last name is Carter.” Low started. “From New York?” he gasped. “Yes.” The farmer shook from head to toes. He laid his trembling hands on Nick’s arm, and began: [170] “Mr. Carter, I’ve hearn tell of you, that you’re keen and hard when it comes to criminals, but you’re straight with innocent men. I swear——” “You don’t need to,” interrupted Nick; “you are as innocent as I am, and I know it. I believed it when I started out to see you, but I am going to arrest you for murder, nevertheless.” “Mr. Carter! I don’t understand! What will my poor wife say?” “You needn’t let her know. I want you to understand, though. Suspicion has been put on you by an enemy of yours. Now, if I lock you up over night, it will make this enemy believe that I have finished my work. See?” “You want to blind him?” “Yes. Then I can hunt for the real murderer in my own way.” “All right, Mr. Carter.” Low was perfectly quiet. He did not talk or act like the hot-tempered man who had threatened Mr. Judson. “You can tell your wife,” said Nick, “that a man wants you to go to the city on business about the land deal. Let her think that some good luck has come your way. I[171] don’t think you’ll have to disappoint her afterward. Then hitch up your horse, and we’ll go back together.” Low agreed to this without argument. He went into the house and was gone several minutes. Then he went into the barn and hitched up. A little later, he and the detective were jogging over the road toward Denver. <hr class="chap" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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