The Collected Western Classics & Adventures Novels. William MacLeod RaineЧитать онлайн книгу.
door of his hotel and slipped into the street. He understood perfectly that in following the course he did, he was taking his life in his hands. The exposure of the bribery traffic would blast forever the reputations of many men who had hitherto held a high place in the community, and he knew the temper of some of them well enough to be aware that an explosion was probable. Spies had been dogging him ever since the legislature convened. Within an hour one of them would be flying to Pelton with the news that he was at a meeting of the committee, and all the thugs of the other side would be turned loose on his heels. As he walked briskly through the streets toward the place appointed, his hand lay on the hilt of a revolver in the outside pocket of his overcoat. He was a man who would neither seek trouble nor let it overwhelm him. If his life were attempted, he meant to defend it to the last.
He followed side streets purposely, and his footsteps echoed along the deserted road. He knew he was being dogged, for once, when he glanced back, he caught sight of a skulking figure edging along close to a wall. The sight of the spy stirred his blood. Grimly he laughed to himself. They might murder him for what he was doing, but not in time to save the exposure which would be brought to light on the morrow.
The committee met at a road-house near the outskirts of the city, but only long enough to hear Yesler's facts and to appoint another meeting for three hours later at the offices of Eaton. For the committee had come here for secrecy, and they knew that it would be only a short time before Pelton's heelers would be down upon them in force. It was agreed they should divide and slip quietly back to town, wait until everything was quiet and convene again. Meanwhile Eaton would make arrangements to see that his offices would be sufficiently guarded for protection against any attack.
Yesler walked back to town and was within a couple of blocks of his hotel when he glimpsed two figures crouching against the fence of the alley. He stopped in his tracks, watched them intently an instant, and was startled by a whistle from the rear. He knew at once his retreat, too, was cut off, and without hesitation vaulted the fence in front of a big gray stone house he was passing. A revolver flashed from the alley, and he laughed with a strange kind of delight. His thought was to escape round the house, but trellis work barred the way, and he could not open the gate.
"Trapped, by Jove," he told himself coolly as a bullet struck the trellis close to his head.
He turned back, ran up the steps of the porch and found momentary safety in the darkness of its heavy vines. But this he knew could not last. Running figures were converging toward him at a focal point. He could hear oaths and cries. Some one was throwing aimless shots from a revolver at the porch.
He heard a window go up in the second story and a woman's frightened voice ask. "What is it? Who is there?"
"Let me in. I'm ambushed by thugs," he called back.
"There he is—in the doorway," a voice cried out of the night, and it was followed by a spatter of bullets about him.
He fired at a man leaping the fence. The fellow tumbled back with a kind of scream.
"God! I'm hit."
He could hear steps coming down the stairway and fingers fumbling at the key of the door. His attackers were gathering for a rush, and he wondered whether the rescue was to be too late. They came together, the opening door and the forward pour of huddled figures. He stepped back into the hall.
There was a raucous curse, a shot, and Yesler had slammed the door shut. He was alone in the darkness with his rescuer.
"We must get out of here. They're firing through the door," he said, and "Yes" came faintly back to him from across the hall.
"Do you know where the switch is?" he asked, wondering whether she was going to be such an idiot as to faint at this inopportune moment.
His answer came in a flood of light, and showed him a young woman crouched on the hall-rack a dozen feet from the switch. She was very white, and there was a little stain of crimson on the white lace of her sleeve.
A voice from the landing above demanded quickly, "Who are you, sir?" and after he had looked up', cried in surprise, "Mr. Yesler."
"Miss Balfour," he replied. "I'll explain later. I'm afraid the lady has been hit by a bullet."
He was already beside his rescuer. She looked at him with a trace of a tired smile and said:
"In my arm."
After which she fainted. He picked up the young woman, carried her to the stairs, and mounted them.
"This way," said Virginia, leading him into a bedroom, the door of which was open.
He observed with surprise that she, too, was dressed in evening clothes, and rightly surmised that they had just come back from some social function.
"Is it serious?" asked Virginia, when he had laid his burden on the bed.
She was already clipping with a pair of scissors the sleeve from round the wound.
"It ought not to be," he said after he had examined it. "The bullet has scorched along the fleshy part of the forearm. We must telephone for a doctor at once."
She did so, then found water and cotton for bandages, and helped him make a temporary dressing. The patient recovered consciousness under the touch of the cold water, and asked: what was the matter.
"You have been hurt a little, but not badly I think. Don't you remember? You came down and opened the door to let me in."
"They were shooting at you. What for?" she wanted to know.
He smiled. "Don't worry about that. It's all over with. I'm sorry you were hurt in saving me," said Yesler gently.
"Did I save you?" The gray eyes showed a gleam of pleasure.
"You certainly did."
"This is Mr. Yesler, Laska. Mr. Yesler—Miss Lowe. I think you have never met."
"Never before to-night," he said, pinning the bandage in place round the plump arm. "There. That's all just now, ma'am. Did I hurt you very much?"
The young woman felt oddly exhilarated. "Not much. I'll forgive you if you'll tell me all about the affair. Why did they want to hurt you?"
His big heart felt very tender toward this girl who had been wounded for him, but he showed it only by a smiling deference.
"You're right persistent, ma'am. You hadn't ought to be bothering your head about any such thing, but if you feel that way I'll be glad to tell you."
He did. While they sat there and waited for the coming of the doctor, he told her the whole story of his attempt to stop the corruption that was eating like a canker at the life of the State. He was a plain man, not in the least eloquent, and he told his story without any sense that he had played any unusual part. In fact, he was ashamed that he had been forced to assume a role which necessitated a kind of treachery to those who thought they had bought him.
Laska Lowe's eyes shone with the delight his tale inspired in her. She lived largely in the land of ideals, and this fight against wrong moved her mightily. She could feel for him none of the shame which he felt for himself at being mixed up in so bad a business. He was playing a man's part, had chosen it at risk of his life. That was enough. In every fiber of her, she was glad that good fortune had given her the chance to bear a part of the battle. In her inmost heart she was even glad that to the day of her death she must bear the scar that would remind her she had suffered in so good a cause.
Virginia, for once obliterating herself, perceived how greatly taken they were with each other. At bottom, nearly every woman is a match-maker. This one was no exception. She liked both this man and this woman, and her fancy had already begun to follow her hopes. Never before had Laska appeared to show much interest in any of the opposite sex with whom her friend had seen her. Now she was all enthusiasm, had forgotten completely the pain of her wound in the spirit's glow.
"She loved me for the danger I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.'"
Virginia