The Desire of the Moth; and The Come On | Page 6

the road again."
"Is that--er--police regulations or state law?"
"State law--and has been any time these twenty-five years. Say, you
doddering old fool, what do you think this is--a night school?"
"I--I guess I'll go to bed," said Pringle miserably.
"I--I guess if you come back I'll throw you out," mimicked Ben with a
guffaw.
Pringle made no answer. He shuffled into the hall and up the stairway
to his bedroom. He unlocked the door noisily; he opened it noisily; he
took his sixshooter and belt from the wall quietly and closed the door,
noisily again; he locked it--from the outside. Then he did a curious

thing; he sat down very gently and removed his boots.
* * * * *
The four in the barroom listened, grinning. When they heard Pringle's
door slam shut Bell Applegate nodded and Creagan went out on the
street. Behind him, at a table near the pool-room door, the law planned
ways and means in a slinking undertone. "You keep in the background,
Joe. Let us do the talking. Foy just naturally despises you--we might
not get him to stay the fifteen minutes out. You stay back there.
Remember now, don't shoot till Ben lets him get his arm loose. Sabe?"
"Maybe Meester Ben don't find heem."
"Oh, yes, he will. Ditch meeting to-night. Ought to be out about now.
Setting the time to use the water and assessing fatiga work. Every last
man with a water right will be there, sure, and Foy's got a dozen. Max,
you are to be a witness, remember, and you mustn't be mixed up in it.
Got your story straight?"
"Foy he comes in and makes a war-talk about Dick Marr," recited Max.
"After we powwow awhile you see his gun. You tell him he's under
arrest for carryin' concealed weapons. You and Ben grabbed his arm;
he jerked loose and went after his gun. And then Joe shot him."
"That's it. We'll all stick to that. S-st! Here they come!"
There are men whose faces stand out in a crowd, men you turn to look
after on the street. Such--quite apart from his sprightly past--was
Christopher Foy, who now entered with Creagan. He was about thirty,
above middle height, every mold and line of him slender and fine and
strong. His face was resolute, vivacious, intelligent; his eyes were large
and brown, pleasant and fearless. A wide black hat, pushed back now,
showed a broad forehead white against crisp coal-black hair and the
pleasant tan of neck and cheek. But it was not his dark, forceful face
alone that lent him such distinction. Rather it was the perfect poise and
balance of the man, the ease and unconscious grace of every swift and
sure motion. He wore a working garb now--blue overalls and a blue

rowdy. But he wore them with an air that made him well dressed.
Foy paused for a second; Applegate rose.
"Well, Chris!" he laughed. "There has been a time when you might not
have fancied this particular bunch--hey? All over now, please the pigs.
Come in and give it a name. Beer for mine."
"I'll smoke," said Foy.
"Me too," said Espalin.
He lit a cigar and returned to his chair. Ben Creagan passed behind the
bar and handed over a sixshooter and a cartridge belt.
"Here, Chris--here's the gun I borrowed of you when I broke mine.
Much obliged."
Foy twirled the cylinder to make sure the hammer was on an empty
chamber and buckled the belt under his rowdy.
"My hardware is mostly plows and scrappers and irrigating hoes
nowadays," he remarked. "Good thing too."
"All the same, Foy, I'd keep a gun with me if I were you. Dick Marr is
drinking again--and when he soaks it up he gets discontented over old
times, you know." Applegate lowered his voice, with a significant
glance at Espalin. "He threatened your life to-day. I thought you ought
to know it."
Foy considered his cigar.
"That's awkward," he replied briefly.
"Chris," said Ben, "this isn't the first time. Dick's heart is bad to you.
I'm sorry. He was my friend and you were not. But you're not looking
for any trouble now. Dick is. And I'm afraid he'll keep on till he gets it.
Me and the sheriff we managed to get him off to bed, but he says he's
going to shoot you on sight--and I believe he means it. You ought to

have him bound over to keep the peace."
Foy smiled and shook his head.
"I can't do that--and it would only make him madder than ever. But I'll
get out of his way and keep out of his way. I'll go up to the Jornado
to-night and stay with the Bar Cross boys awhile. He won't come up
there."
"You'll