noiselessness of that descent roused the old alarm and suspicion in the heart of Elsie Bennett. She hurried to her own room on the front of the big house and leaned out the window to watch her freed prisoner depart. She had a great and swelling desire suddenly to rouse the people in the house and endeavor to reclaim the fugitive. It seemed madness, this thing she had done. It was sending danger of death to hover over the head of Charlie Loring.
And then, out of the night beneath her window, she heard a faint whistle. It was keyed so high that it pierced to a great distance. The whistle was repeated. Ronicky Doone was standing beneath the window waiting for what?
There came a rapid beat of hoofs. The form of a horse glimmered in the night, and Ronicky Doone swung into the saddle and disappeared at a rapid gallop.
With a beating heart she watched him fade out.
"He can't be all bad," said Elsie Bennett. "He can't be all bad when he has a horse that comes to his whistle."
Chapter XIV. JENKINS GETS A JOLT
Of all the winged things in the world, there is nothing that flies so fast as rumor, and of all rumors there is none so fleet as bad news.
Ronicky Doone reached Twin Springs late, very late. And he slept till noon at the hotel. When he wakened he found that the town knew more about his adventure of the night before than he knew himself. He could tell by the first face he confronted down the stairs that all was known at least from the viewpoint of Blondy Loring.
Another man would have lost all appetite for the day when he confronted that expression of sneering disgust on the face of the hotel keeper. But Ronicky Doone merely drew the belt of his trousers tighter and walked into the dining room for lunch.
He ate it in profound silence. Not a man spoke to him except one or two who happened to catch his eye full upon them, and they favored him with a muffled grunt. Plainly he was in the deepest disgrace into which it is possible for a man to fall; at least in the West.
He finished his lunch slowly, however, admirable testimony that his nerve was as cold as steel in a crisis, and he looked up unabashed when the proprietor of the hotel paused at his table in his round of the room to inquire after the comfort of his guests.
"Look here," said the proprietor, looking out the window above the head of Ronicky, so that he might not be forced to encounter the eyes of the despicable gunman who stole upon his victims from behind. "Look here, Doone, I got a terrible rush of business coming, and when I looked over the list I seen how I'd reserved all the rooms. I'll have to use your place to-night, so I guess you'll be moseying along to-day." And he turned his back without further explanation. But the hand of Ronicky shot out and touched his arm.
"Turn around," said Ronicky.
The other turned a quarter of the way.
"Look me in the eye," said Ronicky.
Reluctantly it was done.
"I'll stay till I'm good and ready to go," said Ronicky. "You write that down in red and start betting on it. I'll stay here till I can't pay for my room no more. That's final."
The proprietor started to hurl a loud protest upon Ronicky's head. But apparently he found something in the eye of Ronicky that was in sharp contrast with the reports of Ronicky's meeting with Blondy Loring, which had been retailed throughout the town during the morning. At any rate the host retreated to a corner, muttering like a dog over a bone.
And Ronicky rose, stretched himself, carelessly picked up every disgusted, scornful eye that dwelt upon him, and then sauntered out of the room.
As on the day before, he selected the one, large, easy chair on the veranda and bore it to the edge of the shadow, where he stretched out luxuriously in the sun; and while the heat seeped through his tissues and filled him with a pleasant drowsiness, he smoked a cigarette and watched the smoke drift up, blue-brown in the sun, rising sometimes a considerable distance until it vanished in a touch of
And then, out of the night beneath her window, she heard a faint whistle. It was keyed so high that it pierced to a great distance. The whistle was repeated. Ronicky Doone was standing beneath the window waiting for what?
There came a rapid beat of hoofs. The form of a horse glimmered in the night, and Ronicky Doone swung into the saddle and disappeared at a rapid gallop.
With a beating heart she watched him fade out.
"He can't be all bad," said Elsie Bennett. "He can't be all bad when he has a horse that comes to his whistle."
Chapter XIV. JENKINS GETS A JOLT
Of all the winged things in the world, there is nothing that flies so fast as rumor, and of all rumors there is none so fleet as bad news.
Ronicky Doone reached Twin Springs late, very late. And he slept till noon at the hotel. When he wakened he found that the town knew more about his adventure of the night before than he knew himself. He could tell by the first face he confronted down the stairs that all was known at least from the viewpoint of Blondy Loring.
Another man would have lost all appetite for the day when he confronted that expression of sneering disgust on the face of the hotel keeper. But Ronicky Doone merely drew the belt of his trousers tighter and walked into the dining room for lunch.
He ate it in profound silence. Not a man spoke to him except one or two who happened to catch his eye full upon them, and they favored him with a muffled grunt. Plainly he was in the deepest disgrace into which it is possible for a man to fall; at least in the West.
He finished his lunch slowly, however, admirable testimony that his nerve was as cold as steel in a crisis, and he looked up unabashed when the proprietor of the hotel paused at his table in his round of the room to inquire after the comfort of his guests.
"Look here," said the proprietor, looking out the window above the head of Ronicky, so that he might not be forced to encounter the eyes of the despicable gunman who stole upon his victims from behind. "Look here, Doone, I got a terrible rush of business coming, and when I looked over the list I seen how I'd reserved all the rooms. I'll have to use your place to-night, so I guess you'll be moseying along to-day." And he turned his back without further explanation. But the hand of Ronicky shot out and touched his arm.
"Turn around," said Ronicky.
The other turned a quarter of the way.
"Look me in the eye," said Ronicky.
Reluctantly it was done.
"I'll stay till I'm good and ready to go," said Ronicky. "You write that down in red and start betting on it. I'll stay here till I can't pay for my room no more. That's final."
The proprietor started to hurl a loud protest upon Ronicky's head. But apparently he found something in the eye of Ronicky that was in sharp contrast with the reports of Ronicky's meeting with Blondy Loring, which had been retailed throughout the town during the morning. At any rate the host retreated to a corner, muttering like a dog over a bone.
And Ronicky rose, stretched himself, carelessly picked up every disgusted, scornful eye that dwelt upon him, and then sauntered out of the room.
As on the day before, he selected the one, large, easy chair on the veranda and bore it to the edge of the shadow, where he stretched out luxuriously in the sun; and while the heat seeped through his tissues and filled him with a pleasant drowsiness, he smoked a cigarette and watched the smoke drift up, blue-brown in the sun, rising sometimes a considerable distance until it vanished in a touch of
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