Snow-Bound at Eagles | Page 6

undenominated passenger
subsided into an admiring and dreamy contemplation of them both.
With all his principle and really high-minded purpose, Hale could not
help feeling constrained and annoyed at the sudden subordinate and
auxiliary position to which he, the projector of the enterprise, had been
reduced. It was true that he had never offered himself as their leader; it
was true that the principle he wished to uphold and the effect he sought
to obtain would be equally demonstrated under another; it was true that
the execution of his own conception gravitated by some occult impulse
to the man who had not sought it, and whom he had always regarded as

an incapable. But all this was so unlike precedent or tradition that, after
the fashion of conservative men, he was suspicious of it, and only that
his honor was now involved he would have withdrawn from the
enterprise. There was still a chance of reasserting himself at the station,
where he was known, and where some authority might be deputed to
him.
But even this prospect failed. The station, half hotel and half stable,
contained only the landlord, who was also express agent, and the new
volunteer who Clinch had suggested would be found among the
stable-men. The nearest justice of the peace was ten miles away, and
Hale had to abandon even his hope of being sworn in as a deputy
constable. This introduction of a common and illiterate ostler into the
party on equal terms with himself did not add to his satisfaction, and a
remark from Rawlins seemed to complete his embarrassment.
"Ye had a mighty narrer escape down there just now," said that
gentleman confidentially, as Hale buckled his saddle girths.
"I thought, as we were not supposed to defend ourselves, there was no
danger," said Hale scornfully.
"Oh, I don't mean them road agents. But HIM."
"Who?"
"Kernel Clinch. You jist ez good as allowed he hadn't any grit."
"Whatever I said, I suppose I am responsible for it," answered Hale
haughtily.
"That's what gits me," was the imperturbable reply. "He's the best shot
in Southern California, and hez let daylight through a dozen chaps
afore now for half what you said."
"Indeed!"
"Howsummever," continued Rawlins philosophically, "ez he's

concluded to go WITH ye instead of FOR ye, you're likely to hev your
ideas on this matter carried out up to the handle. He'll make short work
of it, you bet. Ef, ez I suspect, the leader is an airy young feller from
Frisco, who hez took to the road lately, Clinch hez got a personal
grudge agin him from a quarrel over draw poker."
This was the last blow to Hale's ideal crusade. Here he was--an honest,
respectable citizen--engaged as simple accessory to a lawless vendetta
originating at a gambling table! When the first shock was over that
grim philosophy which is the reaction of all imaginative and sensitive
natures came to his aid. He felt better; oddly enough he began to be
conscious that he was thinking and acting like his companions. With
this feeling a vague sympathy, before absent, faintly showed itself in
their actions. The Sharpe's rifle put into his hands by the stable-man
was accompanied by a familiar word of suggestion as to an equal,
which he was ashamed to find flattered him. He was able to continue
the conversation with Rawlins more coolly.
"Then you suspect who is the leader?"
"Only on giniral principles. There was a finer touch, so to speak, in this
yer robbery that wasn't in the old-fashioned style. Down in my country
they hed crude ideas about them things--used to strip the passengers of
everything, includin' their clothes. They say that at the station hotels,
when the coach came in, the folks used to stand round with blankets to
wrap up the passengers so ez not to skeer the wimen. Thar's a story that
the driver and express manager drove up one day with only a copy of
the Alty Californy wrapped around 'em; but thin," added Rawlins
grimly, "there WAS folks ez said the hull story was only an
advertisement got up for the Alty."
"Time's up."
"Are you ready, gentlemen?" said Colonel Clinch.
Hale started. He had forgotten his wife and family at Eagle's Court, ten
miles away. They would be alarmed at his absence, would perhaps hear
some exaggerated version of the stage coach robbery, and fear the

worst.
"Is there any way I could send a line to Eagle's Court before daybreak?"
he asked eagerly.
The station was already drained of its spare men and horses. The
undenominated passenger stepped forward and offered to take it
himself when his business, which he would despatch as quickly as
possible, was concluded.
"That ain't a bad idea," said Clinch reflectively, "for ef yer hurry you'll