The Argosy, January 1906 — page 90: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

272 murder. And a most reprehensible bit of evidence it was, this hiding of the price of blood where it could not but involve Dexter, a man who-had been to Roy almost as a second father. But Dexter would not believe. In his hfe Joe Burnham had stood for everything that was honest and noble, and Roy could not come of his blood and be the scoundrel that others would have him. The buckskin bag containing the six hundred dollars which Dexter had plucked from the cunning hands of Ol Kalispel, the day before, had been left in the bedroom at the time Dexter had gone into the outer room and closed the door. ‘That bag had vanished through the open window with Roy. This was as it should be. In his flight from injustice Roy would need money, and whatever Dexter had the boy was welcome to. By taking the burden of the crime upon his own shoulders, Dexter at one stroke cut short all pursuit of Roy, cleared his name of stain, and set him fair in the face of the world—and of Orah Lee. If Kalispel’s devilish cunning had woven a web from which there was no escape, Dexter would take the conse- quences. If a way out could be found, then Dexter would free himself. In any event, Roy would be safe. Orah Lee would have no cause to blush for him. Their young lives could be happily united, and the joy of it would be reward enough for the generous Dex- ter. All in good time the presence of the money in the violin-case would be ex- plained, and until that time Dexter scorned the thought that Roy had had a hand in placing it there. Circumstances had conspired to lend color to Dexter’s avowal of guilt. The attack nade on him by young Kalispel at the O. D. K. ranch, young Kalis- pel’s bitter words as he quitted the scene to carry out his father’s orders as to the pay-roll money, Dexter’s tarrying at the deserted cabin while the crime was being committed—all this was cor- roborative detail that could not be gain- said. So much for Dexter’s motives. Mis- for? THE ARGOSY. taken though they were, certainly the cattleman never confronted an issue more cheerfully than he did the present, one. 3 * Good heavens, Jim! ” cried McKib- ben. “ Do you know what such a con- fession means for you?” © “T beheve so, Mac,” rephed Dexter. “T have held a pretty high place in the opinion of the community, and no doubt my reputation is going to suffer. As I told you, however, what I did was in self-defense.” “But you didn’t take the money in self-defense. 'That’s the worst part of it. What did you take the money at all Everybody knows you’re well off in this world’s goods, and why in Sam Hill you’d kill a man in self-defense and then rob him is a notch or two be- yond me.” That was the weak point in Jim Dex- ter’s confession. He saw it, and dis- ereetly held his peace. “Then, too,” muttered the sheriff, rubbing his forehead in_ perplexity, “what did young Burnham run away for? I can’t understand that.” “Tt isn’t necessary for you to under- stand it, Mac,” said Dexter. “ Are you going to put on the irons? ” “No,” grunted McKibben. “ I’m not afraid that you’ll run away.” A sound of galloping came from out- side at that juncture, growing rapidly in volume until it ceased suddenly in the camp. A yell went up from Perry, and Dexter and McKibben ran to the door. A lathered and dusty horse stood within a dozen yards of the house, head drooping, mouth covered with foam and nostrils distended with a wearing fight for breath. Near the fagged horse stood the two mounts belonging to McKibben and Perry, and in front of them was the deputy, supporting the fainting form of a woman. Cowboys were running toward the scene from every direction. “ What’s the matter, Perry?” called Mckkibben as he and Dexter left the house and hurried toward him. “This woman rode into camp jest now with her horse on the keen jump,” replied Perry. “When the horse stopped com chook (Eo)