The foreman saw the incredulity expressed in his face, and said somewhat aggressively, "Of course I know ye don't take no stock in what's said agin the Greasers, and that's what the boys know, and what they said, and that's the reason why I thought I oughter tell ye, so that ye mightn't seem to be always favorin' 'em."The editor's face darkened slightly, but he kept his temper and his good humor. "So that to prove that the 'Clarion' is unbiased where the Mexicans are concerned, I ought to make it their only accuser, and cast a doubt on the American's veracity?" he said, with a smile.
"I don't mean that," said the foreman, reddening. "Only I thought ye might--as ye understand these folks' ways--ye might be able to get at them easy, and mebbe make some copy outer the blamed thing.
It would just make a stir here, and be a big boom for the 'Clarion.'""I've no doubt it would," said the editor dryly. "However, I'll make some inquiries; but you might as well let 'the boys' know that the 'Clarion' will not publish the colonel's secret without his permission. Meanwhile," he continued, smiling, "if you are very anxious to add the functions of a reporter to your other duties and bring me any discoveries you may make, I'll--look over your copy."He good humoredly nodded, and took up his pen again,--a hint at which the embarrassed foreman, under cover of hitching up his trousers, awkwardly and reluctantly withdrew.
It was with some natural youthful curiosity, but no lack of loyalty to Colonel Starbottle, that the editor that evening sought this "war-horse of the Democracy," as he was familiarly known, in his invalid chamber at the Palmetto Hotel. He found the hero with a bandaged ear and--perhaps it was fancy suggested by the story of the choking--cheeks more than usually suffused and apoplectic.
Nevertheless, he was seated by the table with a mint julep before him, and welcomed the editor by instantly ordering another.
The editor was glad to find him so much better.
"Gad, sir, no bones broken, but a good deal of 'possum scratching about the head for such a little throw like that. I must have slid a yard or two on my left ear before I brought up.""You were unconscious from the fall, I believe.""Only for an instant, sir--a single instant! I recovered myself with the assistance of a No'the'n gentleman--a Mr. Parmlee--who was passing.""Then you think your injuries were entirely due to your fall?"The colonel paused with the mint julep halfway to his lips, and set it down. "Sir!" he ejaculated, with astounded indignation.
"You say you were unconscious," returned the editor lightly, "and some of your friends think the injuries inconsistent with what you believe to be the cause. They are concerned lest you were unknowingly the victim of some foul play.""Unknowingly! Sir! Do you take me for a chuckle-headed niggah, that I don't know when I'm thrown from a buck-jumping mustang? or do they think I'm a Chinaman to be hustled and beaten by a gang of bullies? Do they know, sir, that the account I have given I am responsible for, sir?--personally responsible?"There was no doubt to the editor that the colonel was perfectly serious, and that the indignation arose from no guilty consciousness of a secret. A man as peppery as the colonel would have been equally alert in defense.
"They feared that you might have been ill used by some evilly disposed person during your unconsciousness," explained the editor diplomatically; "but as you say THAT was only for a moment, and that you were aware of everything that happened"--He paused.
"Perfectly, sir! Perfectly! As plain as I see this julep before me. I had just left the Ramierez rancho. The senora,--a devilish pretty woman, sir,--after a little playful badinage, had offered to lend me her daughter's mustang if I could ride it home. You know what it is, Mr. Grey," he said gallantly. "I'm an older man than you, sir, but a challenge from a d----d fascinating creature, Itrust, sir, I am not yet old enough to decline. Gad, sir, Imounted the brute. I've ridden Morgan stock and Blue Grass thoroughbreds bareback, sir, but I've never thrown my leg over such a blanked Chinese cracker before. After he bolted I held my own fairly, but he buck-jumped before I could lock my spurs under him, and the second jump landed me!""How far from the Ramierez fonda were you when you were thrown?""A matter of four or five hundred yards, sir.""Then your accident might have been seen from the fonda?""Scarcely, sir. For in that case, I may say, without vanity, that--er--the--er senora would have come to my assistance.""But not her husband?"
The old-fashioned shirt-frill which the colonel habitually wore grew erectile with a swelling indignation, possibly half assumed to conceal a certain conscious satisfaction beneath. "Mr. Grey," he said, with pained severity, "as a personal friend of mine, and a representative of the press,--a power which I respect,--I overlook a disparaging reflection upon a lady, which I can only attribute to the levity of youth and thoughtlessness. At the same time, sir,"he added, with illogical sequence, "if Ramierez felt aggrieved at my attentions, he knew where I could be found, sir, and that it was not my habit to decline giving gentlemen--of any nationality--satisfaction--sir!--personal satisfaction."
He paused, and then added, with a singular blending of anxiety and a certain natural dignity, "I trust, sir, that nothing of this--er--kind will appear in your paper."
"It was to keep it out by learning the truth from you, my dear colonel," said the editor lightly, "that I called to-day. Why, it was even suggested," he added, with a laugh, "that you were half strangled by a lasso."To his surprise the colonel did not join in the laugh, but brought his hand to his loose cravat with an uneasy gesture and a somewhat disturbed face.
