"That's good. Show 'em what you have, daughter."

Mary drew a knotted handkerchief from her bosom and undid the knots.

Appeared the doubled paper she had found. This she pa.s.sed to Janet.

"Why,--why, this is the doc.u.ment I had!" the latter exclaimed, joyfully. "Where did you find it?"

"Up by the smashed automobile, when father and I were at the cabin."

She exchanged a guarded look with her father. "There are names in it that made me think it might be valuable. So when father came back from Bowenville I showed it to him. But neither of us could read it. We thought we'd better bring it to you to read."

"It is valuable, very valuable. I had it when I was seized by Ed Sorenson and he took it away from me. Evidently, then, it fell from his pocket at the time of the accident. Yes, indeed, it's important.

It means everything to certain parties. I'll read it, but you understand what it tells is private at present."

"We understand--and I think I know what it's going to say," Johnson remarked, grimly.

Thereupon while the others listened Janet read a translation of the long doc.u.ment. To her and her father the facts were not new, for Weir had already related such as he knew of the happenings in Vorse's saloon on that eventful day thirty years previous. Nor for that matter were they strange to Johnson and his daughter, though of course neither Janet nor her father were aware of the rancher's more intimate knowledge of the subject.

"A pretty good story as far as it goes, but like all lawyers' papers long-winded," Johnson stated, critically.

"What do you mean, far as it goes?" Janet asked, curiously. "Did you know this old Mexican? Did you ever hear him tell about the thing?"

"I knew he was there at the time, but he never told me anything."

Here Dr. Hosmer spoke.

"Saurez died yesterday. It must have been shortly after he made this deposition. He died in Vorse's saloon, which gives a color of suspicion to his death. In addition, Martinez, as you know, was dragged away somewhere."

"Then Vorse learned old Saurez had blabbed, and killed him," Johnson said, in a convinced tone. "Vorse is a bad bird, I want to say. But so are all of them, Sorenson, Burkhardt and Judge Gordon as well."

Janet brought the talk back to the subject.

"You make me still wonder, Mr. Johnson," she said. "You seemed to think there's more to the account than is told in this paper."

Again the rancher and his daughter glanced at each other, hesitatingly.

"Tell them, father," Mary broke forth all at once. "They know this much, and you know you can trust them."

The man, however, shook his head with a certain dogged purpose.

"If this is just a paper in some trifling lawsuit or other, it will be better if I keep my own counsel," he stated. "I've riled Sorenson considerable as it is now, and I don't care particularly about having him gunning on my trail active-like. If it really mattered----"

"It does matter; it matters everything," Janet cried, "if you really know something more!"

"Why?"

"Because it concerns Mr. Weir. The Joseph Weir described and named in this affidavit was his father. He believes these men robbed his father; this paper proves it, but not absolutely, for Mexican evidence here in this country doesn't carry as much weight against white men--especially men as rich and strong as these named--as it would in other places perhaps. You know that. This paper was obtained for Mr.

Weir."

"Oho, so that's the way of it!" Johnson said, with a long drawn-out tone.

He regarded the paper in silence for a time, busy with his thoughts, absently twisting his beard, until at length a look of satisfaction grew on his face.

"Well, well, this is fine," he went on presently. "I never thought I should be able to pay the obligation I owe him, and I won't fully at that, but this will help. No, that paper doesn't tell all, for I reckon Saurez didn't see all." He glanced triumphantly at the doctor and the girl. "But I did."

"You!" both exclaimed.

But before he could explain, the memory of the cattleman's threat recurred to Janet to banish thoughts of aught else than Weir's danger from her mind.

"Mr. Sorenson said he was going up to the dam to shoot Mr. Weir," she exclaimed. "We must give warning."

"Did he say he was going himself?" Johnson asked.

"To get the paper, yes." Then Janet continued anxiously. "But the paper isn't all. His son told him what occurred in the mountains and I believe the man wants to harm Mr. Weir as well as to obtain the paper.

Perhaps he plans on gaining the doc.u.ment first, then killing him. In any case, we must put Mr. Weir on guard."

"I'll just drive up there and tell the engineer," Johnson stated.

"Shouldn't be surprised if I got a chance yet to use my gun. You girls can stay here."

Janet gazed at him with a flushing face.

"The man could go to the dam and kill Mr. Weir and get safely home while you're starting with your team," said she. "No, we must drive there in a car. Father, you take Mr. Johnson in yours, and I'll carry Mary in mine. We'll go along of course, for we'll not remain here in the cottage alone with such terrible things happening in San Mateo."

And to this there was no dissent.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE ALARM

At the dam Weir found Meyers and Atkinson anxiously waiting his return. The sudden concerted melting away of workmen from camp had been warning to his subordinates that the danger of a general spree had taken definite form, which the report of a pair of young engineers confirmed when they followed a group of laborers to the old adobe house and beheld the beginning of the debauch.

"Get out all the staff, Meyers, and you, Atkinson, all the foremen and sober men left, then go down the road and put that joint out of business, taking axes and whatever is necessary."

"And if they fight?" Meyers asked.

"Try first to placate them. If that fails, some of you draw them off in order to permit the others to enter the house and destroy the whiskey. It's a tough job, but you may succeed. If the crowd turns ugly as it may, being drunk, come back. No need to take the risk of broken heads or being beaten up. See, however, if you can't outwit the outfit. Possibly you could push that mud house over from the rear by means of a beam; that would do the business. I leave it to you to decide what's best to do, men, after you've examined the situation."

"The camp will be unguarded except for you and the two men with you,"

Weir's a.s.sistant suggested. "If the crowd drinking down at that place should take the notion to come here and tear things up, there would be nothing to hinder them. A few should stay, anyway, I imagine--half a dozen, who can use guns."

"Well, pick out six to remain," the other agreed.

For Meyers' suggestion had raised a disagreeable possibility. It was never safe to ignore precautions when a gang of two or three hundred rough, active laborers, however loyal when sober, were made irresponsible and crazy by liquor; and one stage of drunkenness in such men was usually manifested in a wild desire for violence. The scheme of Weir's enemies might comprise using this very act for wrecking the camp.

Six men, to be sure, would offer little resistance to stemming the movement once it was started, but the sight of steel in the guards'

hands might cause even a reckless mob to pause long enough for an appeal. If the men should be brought to listen, they could probably be diverted from their purpose, as impa.s.sioned crowds are easily swayed by men of force.