"Then we must act on our own initiative, as you say."

"That's our only recourse. Giving whiskey isn't actually an illegal act--and they're giving it away, not trying to sell it here without a government licence."

"The thing's illegal if it's part of a conspiracy to disrupt our work, and if we can secure proof that such is the fact it will but add one more item to the score to be settled with these San Mateo outlaws."

"There are more men going there. See them?" Weir asked. "You hear them on the road ahead of us. They're ducking through the fence and crossing to the house. Our workmen. The thing's plain now; they had word there would be another 'party' to-night, but they didn't know just where until they received word this evening. I suppose the whole camp except a few men will be here."

"Won't they turn ugly if you interfere?"

"Can't help that. I'll send men down with axes and when the booze is poured on the ground it makes no difference then; the men will be kept sober. If they are stubborn, I'll run a new bunch in and fire these fellows. But I don't imagine they will quit work, however surly, for they know whiskey's no excuse. Men usually cool down after a night's sleep."

From where they sat and since Weir had turned out his car lamps, they could see the steady string of men emerging from the darkness of the field and approaching the house, to quickly dissolve in the gathering already there. In their lively steps, as well as in the eager voices occasionally raised along the dark road, the men's desire to join in the debauch was apparent.

With the swelling of the crowd the sc.r.a.ping of the fiddles became louder, the dancing more furious, shouts and yells more frequent, while a dense line of men pa.s.sing and jamming in and out of the door pointed only too plainly that inside the house liquor flowed. This would be no matter of a few drinks per man, but a big drunk if not stopped.

Martinez confirmed this opinion on his return.

"There are two barrels inside and a couple of fellows are dipping it up in tin cups like water," said he. "They're not even troubling to draw the stuff; the barrels have been placed on end and the heads knocked out. It will be the biggest spree San Mateo ever saw, with plenty of fighting after awhile. Women, you know, always start fights during a spree."

"Those surely are not women from town," Weir exclaimed.

"Oh, no. I never saw them before. Brought in here from somewhere--Santa Fe perhaps, El Paso more likely. You know the kind who would mix with that crowd--tough girls. They're wearing low necks and short skirts, red stockings and all that. You know the kind. Out of joints and dives somewhere. There's only a dozen, but they keep circulating and dancing with different ones. I just put my head through a window to look inside, which is lighted by a big kerosene lamp hanging from the roof; and I tell you, gentlemen, it made me sick the way those two fellows were dipping up whiskey and the crowd drinking it down."

"And more men coming all the time," Weir stated.

"And more coming, yes. It will be very bad there by midnight. Vorse and Burkhardt and Sorenson are managing the thing, of course."

Martinez lighted a cigarette and stepped into the car. "No mistake about that, for Vorse's bartender is one of the men at the barrels.

And I imagine Judge Gordon knew this thing was coming off though he made no mention of it."

"Since we were ignorant of the matter, he naturally wouldn't inform us," Pollock remarked, dryly.

"Time to put a stop to the show before it grows bad," Weir stated resolutely. And he started the machine.

"If it can be stopped," Martinez replied.

That was the question, whether or not now it would be possible even to reach and destroy the barrels inside the house, what with the numbers who would oppose the move and what with the state of intoxication that must rapidly prevail at the place.

For as they drove away they could already detect in the mad revel about the old adobe dwelling a faster beat in the sharp shrieking music, a wilder abandon in the movements of the figures about the flames, a more reckless, fiercer note in the cries and oaths.

"This is deviltry wholesale," Pollock said. "On a grand scale, one might put it."

So thought a horseman who approached and halted almost at the same spot where the car had rested. This was Madden who with a warrant for Weir's arrest in his pocket had arrived opposite the house a moment after the automobile's departure. He had secured the warrant at eight o'clock according to the county attorney's request, but he had taken his own time about setting off to serve it.

For a quarter of a mile he had been interested in the evidences of unwonted hilarity at the usually untenanted structure. Now he sat in his saddle, silent and motionless, observing the distant scene. He easily guessed the men were from the construction camp and that liquor was running.

"I can almost smell it here, d.i.c.k," he addressed his horse.

But two circ.u.mstances puzzled him. One was that there had been no news in town of such a big affair impending for the night; the second, that there were women present--for no Mexican, however ignorant, would take or allow his women folks to attend such a howling show. Coming on top of the crowd in town, he wondered if this business might not be linked up with Weir's affairs. These were his workmen and this was Vorse's farm-house and very likely Vorse's liquor. After he had arrested the engineer he would look into the thing.

Fifteen minutes later, when he had gone on, other pa.s.sers-by paused for a minute on the road to stare at the amazing picture across the field. These were Dr. Hosmer and Janet, Johnson and his daughter Mary: the two men being in the doctor's car, the two girls in Janet's runabout.

"What on earth is going on there!" Janet exclaimed, when the two machines had pulled up.

The two fires, fed by fresh fuel, were leaping higher than ever, bringing out in strong relief the long squat building, the dark, restless, noisy throng, and the s.p.a.ce of illuminated earth. Against the night the flames and building and mob of hundreds of men seemed a crimson vision from some inferno to an accompaniment of mad music.

"The camp's gone on a tear; drive ahead," her father said. "This isn't a sight for you girls to look at."

And with that the two cars sped forward towards the dam, where on this night so much was converging. For their occupants already had had an experience that had started them at once to seek the man around whose figure were swirling a hundred pa.s.sions and dark currents of destiny.

CHAPTER XXIII

WITH FANGS BARED

That Sunday afternoon Janet Hosmer had awakened about sunset from an after-dinner sleep, rested and refreshed, with her mind continuing to be occupied by thoughts of Steele Weir about whom had eddied her dreams. The man was no longer the mystery he had been, since now she knew all the circ.u.mstances of his life, and on that account was nearer, more human, and yet as compelling.

That on his part his interest went beyond mere friendship she had recognized from his voice and eyes when they were together. Ah, in truth, how his tones deepened and his look betrayed his feelings! At the thought Janet's heart beat faster and her cheeks grew warm and an indefinable joy seemed to fill her breast. She would not deny it: his presence, his touch gave her a greater happiness than she had ever known. At a single stride, as it were, he had come into the middle of her life and dominated her mind and changed her whole outlook.

How he too had changed and grown in the coming! From the avaricious, calculating, heartless manager of the construction work, as she seeing through colored San Mateo eyes had believed him to be, he now stood forth a figure of power, undaunted by difficulties, undismayed by enemies however numerous, fearless to a fault, stern perhaps--but who would not have been made stern in his place?--and determined, cool, resourceful, alert, and of an integrity as firm and upright as a marble shaft. Yet beneath this exterior his heart was quick and tender for those who needed sympathy or help, and his hand swift to aid.

More than once a hot flush burned on Janet's face, as sitting there on the vine-hung veranda in the gathering dusk, recollection a.s.sailed her with memories of wasted kindnesses given the infamous Ed Sorenson, of trust bestowed and of love plighted. That pa.s.sage in her life seemed to leave her contaminated forever. It burned in her soul like a disgrace or a dishonorable act. But Steele Weir--and she swam in glorious ether at the thought--did not appear to view it in that light.

Juanita running in the twilight to the house interrupted her introspection.

"I came to tell you," the Mexican girl exclaimed panting before Janet.

"Tell me what?" For Juanita's reappearance in itself was unusual, as Sunday afternoon and evening were her own to spend at home.

"People are saying Mr. Weir is to be arrested and hanged from a tree in the court house yard! Everybody has come to town to see. Three uncles and aunts and nine cousins of ours have already come to our house from where they live four miles down the river. All the town is talking about it. But though I said nothing, I knew how Mr. Weir had saved you and that he had done nothing to be hanged for. If anybody is to be killed it ought to be that Ed Sorenson."

"Are you sure of this, Juanita?"

"Yes, yes, Miss Janet. It is so."

"Then this is part of the plot against him; let me think. They might arrest him but they would never dare try to hang him, unless they could pretend----"

What they might pretend Janet never stated, as at that instant a motor car dashed up and stopped before the gate. Even in the gloom she made out that the figure garbed in a gray dust coat was Sorenson's.

Springing out of the machine, he jerked the gate open and strode towards the house, while a premonition of a fresh and unpleasant turn of affairs quivered in Janet's mind.

"I've come back again, you see," he said. "Step inside where you can hear what I have to say."

The words were like an order; the man's manner, indeed, was overbearing and brutal. But the girl concealing her resentment, preceded him into the house and bade Juanita light a lamp.

"And now you get out!" Sorenson commanded the servant in so savage a tone that she fled to the kitchen without waiting to consult Janet's eyes. "I see your father isn't here," he continued, addressing Janet.