"If this stuff belongs to the girl, I'm not certain I shan't give them
up without any fuss. Lord! I want nothing but what the old man left
me--and certainly nothing of HERS."
Here Ned Wyngate was heard to murmur that Jackson was one of those
men who would lie down and let coyotes crawl over him if they first
presented a girl's visiting card, but he was stopped by Rice demanding
paper and pencil. The former being torn from a memorandum book, and a
stub of the latter produced from another pocket, he wrote as follows:--
SIR,--In reply to the hogwash you have kindly exuded in your letter of
to-day, I have to inform you that you can have what you ask for Miss
Wells, and perhaps a trifle on your own account, by calling this
afternoon on--Yours truly--
"Now, sign it," continued Rice, handing him the pencil.
"But this will look as if we were angry and wanted to keep the plants,"
protested Wells.
"Never you mind, sonny, but sign! Leave the rest to your partners,
and when you lay your head on your pillow to-night return thanks to an
overruling Providence for providing you with the right gang of ruffians
to look after you!"
Wells signed reluctantly, and Wyngate offered to find a Chinaman in the
gulch who would take the missive. "And being a Chinaman, Brown can do
any cussin' or buck talk THROUGH him!" he added.
The afternoon wore on; the tall Douglas pines near the water pools
wheeled their long shadows round and halfway up the slope, and the sun
began to peer into the faces of the reclining men. Subtle odors of mint
and southern-wood, stragglers from the garden, bruised by their limbs,
replaced the fumes of their smoked-out pipes, and the hammers of the
woodpeckers were busy in the grove as they lay lazily nibbling the
fragrant leaves like peaceful ruminants. Then came the sound of
approaching wheels along the invisible highway beyond the buckeyes,
and then a halt and silence. Rice rose slowly, bright pin points in the
pupils of his gray eyes.
"Bringin' a wagon with him to tote the hull shanty away," suggested
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