The Coming of the Law

From Razor-Back ridge the big basin spread away to the Blue Peak mountains. On the opposite side of the ridge began the big plain on which, snuggled behind some cottonwood trees, were the Circle Cross buildings. From where Hollis and Nellie Hazelton sat on the ridge they could look miles down the Coyote trail, into Devil’s Hollow; could see the two big cottonwood trees that stood beside Big Elk crossing, above which, on the night of the storm, Hollis had been attacked by Dunlavey’s men. Back on the stretch of plain above the basin they could make out the Circle Bar buildings, lying close to the banks of the river.

It was in the late afternoon and the sun had gone down behind the Blue Peaks, though its last rays were just touching the crest of the ridge near Hollis and Nellie. He had called her attention to the sinking sun, telling her that it was time they started for the Circle Bar.

“Wait,” she said; “someone is coming up the Coyote trail. I have been watching him for ten minutes.”

Hollis faced the trail and watched also. In a quarter of an hour the horseman came out of Devil’s Hollow. Hollis and Nellie could see him plainly as he guided his pony around the huge boulders that filled the place. Hollis smiled whimsically.

“It’s the poet,” he told Nellie, catching her gaze and grinning widely at her. “I sent him to Dry Bottom this noon for the mail–Potter is going to stay in town over night.”

For an instant it seemed that Ace would not see them, and Hollis rose from the rock on which he had been sitting and halloed to him. He responded with a shout and urged his pony up the steep side of the slope and then along the crest until he came within a few feet of where they sat. He dismounted and came forward, grinning broadly.

“Takin’ the view?” he questioned. His eyes twinkled. “Sometimes there’s a heap of poetry could be got out of this county. But–” and his eyelashes flickered slightly–“a fellow’s got to be in the right frame of mind to get it out. I reckon you two – ”

“I suppose you got the mail?” interrupted Hollis, grimacing at him.

“I sure did,” returned the poet, “one letter. I reckon the blacksmith’ll be kickin’ because I’ve been galivantin’ around the country for one letter. Here it is.” He passed an envelope to Hollis, and the latter, with a quick glance at the legend in the upper left hand corner, tore it open and read. It was from Weary.

Dear boss i got cleaned out agin what did you send me a hundred dollars for you might have knowed that id make a gol darned fool of myself with so much coin i never could keep no coin no how but its all right anyway cause me an eds comin home tomorrow eds all right except bein a littel week which the doc says he git over in a littel while.

    ta ta.
    Weary

P.S. i might have telegraphed but ed says it dont make no difference cause the letter will git there quick enough any way an hes afraid a telegram will scare some one. im dam glad i got a return ticket.

    Weary

After reading the letter Hollis passed it over to Nellie, watching her, his eyes alight with satisfaction.

“Oh!” she said. “Oh!” The letter dropped from her hand, was caught by the breezes and swirled several feet distant. Ace sprang to recover it. When he turned, the letter in hand, he saw something that brought a huge grin of sympathy to his face. But mingled with the sympathy was another emotion.

“Boss,” he said, as Hollis, disengaging himself, turned and faced him, “I’ve writ quite a nice little thing on ‘Love.’ Mebbe you’d like to – ”

He caught Hollis’s frown and immediately retreated to his pony, his grin broadening as he went. He cackled with mirth as Hollis’s voice reached him.

“Ace,” he said gravely, “don’t attempt to write a poem on ‘Love’ until you’ve had some experience.”

“You havin’ yours now?” insinuated Ace, as he mounted his pony.

He alone caught Hollis’s reply. It was an expressive wink.

THE END