The spoilers of the valley

TheProjectGutenbergEBookofTheSpoilersoftheValley,byRobertWatson
ThiseBookisfortheuseofanyoneanywhereatnocostandwith
almostnorestrictionswhatsoever.Youmaycopyit,giveitawayor
re-useitunderthetermsoftheProjectGutenbergLicenseincluded
withthiseBookoronlineatwww.gutenberg.net

Title:TheSpoilersoftheValley
Author:RobertWatson
ReleaseDate:August3,2009[EBook#29588]
Language:English

***STARTOFTHISPROJECTGUTENBERGEBOOKTHESPOILERSOFTHEVALLEY***

ProducedbyRogerFrankandtheOnlineDistributed
ProofreadingTeamat


TheSpoilersoftheValley
ROBERTWATSON


THESPOILERS
OFTHEVALLEY
BYROBERTWATSON
AUTHOROF
“TheGirlofO.K.Valley,”etc.
emblem

A.L.BURTCOMPANY
PublishersNewYork

PublishedbyarrangementwithGeorgeH.DoranCompany
PrintedinU.S.A.


COPYRIGHT,1921,
BYGEORGEH.DORANCOMPANY
PRINTEDINTHEUNITEDSTATESOFAMERICA


TO

ALADYCALLEDNAN


CONTENTS
CHAPTER

I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII

XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI

PAGE

TheManHunt
TheWolfNote
AtPederstone’sForge
WaywardLangford
TheWolfinSheep’sClothing
ABirdtoPluck
WildManHansonGoesWild
LikeMan,LikeHorse
TheDoingsofPercival
Jim’sGrandToot
SolWantsaGoodWife––Bad
TheDance
TheBigSteal
TheRound-Up

Sol’sMatrimonialMix-Up
TheBreakaway
WaywardLangford’sGrandHighlandFling
TheCoatofManyColours
RanchingDeLuxe
ABreachandaConfession
AMaiden,aLoverandaHeathenChinee
FireBegetsHotAir
SoDeepinLoveamI
TheLandslide
TheBankRobbery
TheDawnofaNewDay

11
19
36
44
58
67
74
89
101
122
140
148
165
176
190
203
224

240
258
273
302
320
338
355
372
382


TheSpoilersoftheValley
11


THESPOILERSOFTHEVALLEY


CHAPTERI
TheManHunt

Uponthehill,highabovethetwinklinglightsofthebusylittleranchingtownof
Vernock, at the open dining-room window of a pretty, leafy-bowered, sixroomed bungalow, a girl, just blossoming into womanhood, stood in her night
robes and dressing gown, braiding her dark hair. She was slight of form, but
healthglowedfromherexpressiveface.
Shewasdreamilycontemplatingthebeautiesofthenight.
Belowher,stretchinglikeafan,wastheValleyuponwhichwasbuiltthemerry,
happy-go-lucky, scattered little town she loved. Everywhere around were the
eternal,undulatinghills,enclosingtheValleyinaworldbyitself.Thenighthad
just lately closed in. The sky was clear and presented a wall and a dome of

almostinkyblue.Awayduesouth,rightoverthepeakofahill,onthewallof
bluehungagreatstar,brightandscintillatinglikeafloatingsoapbubble,whilea
12
handspanstraightabovethatagainathin,crescentmoonlaycoldlyonitsback
sending up a reflection of its own streaky, ghostly light from the distant lake
whichwasnomorethanvisiblethroughariftinthehills.
Asthegirldrankinthedelightsofthepeacefulpanoramaspreadingawayright
fromherveryfeet,shewasarousedsharplyfromhermeditation.Sheheard,or
fanciedsheheard,adistantshot,followedbythesoundofexcitedvoicesandthe
barkingofdogs.Shewenttothedoor,threwitopenfearlesslyandpeereddown
thehill;butallwassilentagainsaveforthisbarkingwhichtravelledfartherand
farther away all the time, being caught up and carried along in a desultory
fashionbythedogsofalltheneighbouringhousesandranches.
Shestoodforamoment,lookingabouther,then,shiveringslightlywiththecold,
she threw akiss totheValley, closedthedooragainandturnedslowlytoward
herbedroom.
Her fingers were upon the lamp to turn down the light, when three short
peremptoryrapsatthebackdoorcausedhertostartnervously.Shetookupthe
lampandtiptoedintothekitchen.


“Who’sthere?”shecalled.
Therappingwasrepeated;thistimewithamuchgreaterinsistence.
“Quick,––quick!ForGod’ssakeletmein!”cameahoarse,muffledvoicewhich
soundedstrangelytired.
The girl set the lamp on the kitchen table and went cautiously forward to the
door.
“Who’sthere?”sherepeated,herhandonthedoorfastenings.
“Letmein!”camethevoiceindesperation.“Ifyouhaveaheart,pleaseopen.”
“IcannotuntilIknowwhoyouare.Iamagirl.Iamalone.”

A groan escaped the man on the outside, and the anguish of it struck into the
bosomofEileenPederstone.Oncemorethevoicecamepleadingly:––
“AndIamaman!Iamhunted,––Ineedhelp.”
The girl shot back the bolt, threw wide the door and stood back with bated
breath.
A masculine figure, panting and dishevelled, staggered in, blinking in the
lamplight.
Eileen slowly pushed the door shut, keeping her frightened eyes upon the
incomerwhototteredweaklytothewallandleanedagainstitforsupport.
Dirtyfromheadtoheel,hewasdressedonlyinapairofraggedtrousersanda
torn, mud-stained shirt. His stockingless feet were partly hidden in a pair of
brokenboots.Severaldays’growthofbeardmadeithardtoguesshimyoungor
old.Buthisblueeyes,despitetheirtiredandbloodshotappearance,betrayed,as
theygazedinwonderatthegirl,manycharacteristicsofayouthfulnessnotyet
reallypast.
Whilethetwostoodthus,thefar-awaysoundofvoicesfloatedupthehillfrom
below.
Thefugitive’seyesrovedlikethoseofahuntedanimal.Hebracedhimselfasif
ashamed of his momentary show of fear. He tried hard to smile, but the smile
wasadismalfailure.
“Sorry,” he panted, “but––but–––” His voice sounded harsh and hoarse from
exposure.“Isthereanywhere––anyplacewhereyoucouldhidemetilltheypass.
Theywereonly––onlyalittlebehindme.Guess––I––shouldn’t––shouldn’thave


got you mixed up in this. They are coming this way. They want to take me
back––butIcan’t––Iwon’tgobackthere.Ah!”
Heclungwithhisfingersagainstthewalltopreventhimfromcollapsing.
In a moment, anxious and all alert, Eileen searched the kitchen for a place of
safe hiding. She thought of the cupboards, the clothes-closets in her own

bedroom,evenherbedofspotlesslinen;butnoneoftheseaffordedsecurity.At
last,herreadyeyesfoundwhathernimblemindwasseeking.
“Quick––here!”shecried,turningtothehugeboxinthecornerwhichsheused
for holding the short firewood for her stove. “Help me unload this wood. The
boxisgoodandbig.Youcangetinside;I’llpilethewoodontopofyou.They’ll
neverguess.”
The girl, althoughslightin appearance,settowithavigourandan agilitythat
carried a swift contagion. The man was by her side at once. He gave a little
crackleofalaughinhisthroat,andshotaglanceofadmirationather.Insixty
seconds more, the box was emptied of its contents. The man clambered inside
andcrouchedinthebottomofit.
Itwasonlythenthatthegirlnoticedhisverygreatphysicalweakness.
“Oh, what shall I do?” she cried in sudden alarm. “I can’t leave you this way.
Youhavebeenhurt.Thereisbloodon yourshirt.Thecowards!––they’ve shot
you.”
“Nevermindme––hurry!Itisnothingatall––onlyascratch!Quick!”hegasped.
“Waitamomentthen!”shewhispered.
Themanraisedhimselfonhiselbowandwatchedherassherantothetapinthe
pantryandfilledatumblertothebrimwithwater.
Greedyhandsclutchedtheglassfromher,andthecontentswereswallowedin
greatgulps.Themansighedlikeatiredchild.Hesmiledslightly,showingteeth
ofdelightfulregularity.
“Water’sgreat––isn’tit?”hesaidchildishly.
And as Eileen looked into his eyes she saw that they were young eyes; eyes
filledwithtears,andeyesthatwereeversoblue.
“Quick!They’reprettynearlyhere.”
Eileencommencedcautiouslytopilethewoodontopofhim.


“Don’t mind me!” he whispered huskily. “Tumble it in. I’m––I’m only a

runawayconvict.”
She worked fast and furiously, and had just turned away from the innocentlooking,well-piledboxofsplitwoodinthecorner,whensheheardtheexcited
voicesofhurryingmenatherfrontdoor.
Theytappedsharply.
Shetookthelampfromthekitchentable,carrieditwithhertothedoor,shotthe
boltbackagainandthrewthedoorwideopen.
Threemensteppedintothesemi-circleoflight.Allweretallandofagilebuild.
“Poorboy!”wasEileen’sfirstthought.“Whatchancehasheagainstthese?”
Oneofthemencarriedarifle.Sheknewhim.EverybodyinVernockknewhim.
ShehadknownhimeversincehiscomingtotheValleyfiveyearsbefore.
She had marked with childlike wonder––as others had done––his meteoric
progressinwealthandpower.Hewasaman,dislikedbysome,fearedbymany,
andobeyedbyall;aland-owner;acattlebreeder;agraindealer;agiantinbody
aswellaswill;and––thenewMayorofVernock.
Theothermenwerestrangerstothegirl.
All three walked straight through to the kitchen. The one nearest to Eileen
addressedher.
“Sorrymiss,forintrudin’solate,’speciallyaswehearyourdad’satEnderbyand
you’re all alone to-night. But we’re after a man––a convict––escaped from
Ukallajail.Sawyourlight!Thoughtwesawyourdooropen!”
Hepeeredaboutsuspiciously.“Didn’tseeanythingofhim––didyou?”
Eileenlookedawayfromtheferretyeyesthatsearchedhers.
“Iwasjustgoingtobed,”sheanswerednervously.“I––IfanciedIheardvoices
andashot.”
“Wasn’tanyfancy,miss!”
“I––Iopenedthedoorandlookedout,butdidn’thearanythingmore,soIclosed
thedooragain.”
“Hum!” put in her interlocutor, rubbing his chin. “You didn’t see any signs of
ourmanwhenyoulookedout?”

Eileenshivered,forshedidnotknowhowmuchthesemenkneworhowmuch
theyhadreallyseen.
“Yesorno,miss!”hesnapped.
“No!––mostcertainly,no!”Eileenshotbackathimindefiance.“Howdareyou
talktomeinthatway!”
Tears of vexation sprang to her eyes; vexation that she should have had to lie,
although it was forced upon her unless she meant to betray the man who had
trustedhimselftohersafe-keeping.
“Easy,officer;––easy!MissPederstoneisallright,”putinthemanwiththerifle.
“Whatshesaysyoucanbankon.”
“Oh,pshaw!––youdon’thavetoteachmemybusiness,”retortedthedetective.
“Maybenot;butyoucanstandsometeachinginmanners,”returnedtheother.
“Seehere,sir!”camethequickanswer,“ifyoudon’tlikethis,youhadbetterget
downthehillandhome.Youvillagemayorsgivemeapain.”
Themanwiththeriflebithislipandremainedsilent.
“Youdon’tmindmehavingalookround,miss?”inquiredtheofficeralittlebit
lessbrusquely,butstartingintosearchwithoutwaitingforherpermission.
He threw open the cupboards and the closets. He examined every room in the
house. He even went into Eileen’s bedroom. She followed him there, carrying
thelamp.Helookedintoherbedandsearchedunderit.Heexaminedherclothes
chest.
Atlastbothreturnedtothekitchen.
Themomentshegotthere,Eileen’sheartstoodstill.Shegaveventtoastartled
exclamation, which, however, she quickly covered up by stumbling slightly
forwardasifshehadtrippedontherugandalmostupsetthelamp.
Thesecondofficer,whoallalonghadremainedsilentandsimplyanonlooker,
wasseatedonthetop of the woodbox,rappinghisheelsonthesideofitand
whistlingsoftlytohimselfwithalookonhisfacewhichmighthavebeentaken
foroneofblissfulignoranceorsecretknowledge,soblandwasit.

“Allthrough,Barney?”heasked.
“Ya!”
“Satisfied?”


“Ya!––comeon!”
Thesecondofficerturnedtotheboxuponwhichhehadbeensitting.
“Someboxthis!”heexclaimed,kickingitwithhisfoot.“Guesswe’dbettersee
ifthere’sanyoneunderthewoodpile.”
Hegotdownandcommencedtothrowafewpiecesoffthetop.
Eileen’sheartstoppedbeating.
The detective at the door came over with a look of supreme contempt on his
face.Heliftedthelidofthestoveandspatsometobaccojuiceintothefire,then
hewentovertohiscompanion.
“Say,Jim!––areyouadetectiveoracountryboobonhisvacation?”
“Why?What’sthematterwithyou?”
“Aw,quit!Can’tyouseetheladywantstogettobed!Whydon’tyoulookinside
theteapot?”
“Oh,allright!”repliedtheother,dustingoffhishands.“Thisisyourhunt:––if
youaresatisfied,soamI.”
Eileen’sheartthumpedasifitwouldburstthroughherbody,andshefearedfor
theverynoiseofit.
Slowlytheseconddetectivefollowedtheothertwomenout.


CHAPTERII
TheWolfNote

Atthedoor,themancarryingtheriflecameclosetoEileen.Hecaughtherhand
inhisandtappeditlightly.

“Don’tworry,littlegirl!Itriedmybesttokeepthemfromdisturbingyou,”he
saidinlowtones,“butyouknowwhatthesefellowsarelike.”
“Thank you! You are very kind,” answered Eileen quietly. “Father will thank
you,too,whenhecomesback.”
TheMayorwishedhergood-night,raisedhishatandfollowedtheothers,who
werealreadywellontheirwaydownthehill.
Eileenwaitedatthedooruntiltheywerenolongerwithinsightorearshot.Then
sheclosedandboltedit.Sheranovertothewood-box.Shetossedthechunksof
wood about her in frantic haste, whispering, almost crooning, to the man
underneath,whodidnothearherforhewaslyingtherecrumpledinasenseless
heap.
Withacryshefreedhimandbentoverhim.Hersuppleyoungarmswentunder
his shoulders. She raised him, half dragging, half lifting, until she had him
stretcheduponthefloorinfrontofthestove.Sheranforabasinofwater,cut
somelinenintostripsand,onherkneesbesidehim,shebathedanddressedthe
raw,openwoundinhisside,whereabullethadrippedandtornalongthewhite
flesh.
20
When she finished, she raised his limp head and bathed his brow with cold
water.

Thefugitivegroanedandopenedhiseyes.
He smiled a wan sort of smile through a grimy, unshaven mask, as he looked
intothesweetfaceabovehim.Thenheclosedhiseyesagain,asifhefearedthe
picturemightvanish.
“Oh,braceup!”Eileenwhisperedtearfully,almostshakinghiminherfear.“You


must brace up. They’ve gone. But they may come back. If they do, they’ll be
suretogetyou.”

Gatheringhisscatteredsenses,themanonthefloorraisedhimselfwithaneffort
ontohiselbow.Hestruggledtohisfeetandswayedunsteadily.Hepassedhis
handoverhiseyesandmadeaninvoluntarymovementasiftothrusthisfingers
through his hair. As he did so, a pained expression crossed his face, for his
fingersencounterednothingbutashortstubbleofhairclosecroppedtohisskin.
Eileen lent him her support, as he tried to brace himself. She set him in an
armchair, then brought him bread, butter, some cold meat and fresh milk from
thecupboard,placingthemonthetablebeforehim.
Onlyhiseyesexpressedthanks,buttheydiditeloquently.Ravenouslyheturned
to, while his young hostess watched him in curiosity and wonder, for never
beforehadsheseenonereallyfamishinglyhungry.
Whennotamorselremained,themanpushedbackhischairandturnedtothe
youngladyapologetically.
“You’llexcusemeifIforgotmytablemanners,but––butthatwasmyfirstfood
forthreedays.”
Herose.
“IguessIwillbeabletomakeitnow.Ifeelallright;––thankstoyou.”
“No,no!”exclaimedEileen,“youmustn’tgojustyet.Youmustrestifonlyfora
few minutes. I was anxious before these men were clear away, but they have
gone.Therestwilldoyougood.”
“No!––Imustgo.It––itwouldmeantroubleforyouiftheyfoundmehere.”
“You shan’t! Sit down!” she commanded. “You may require all your strength
beforemorning.”
Shesethiminthechairagain,andheobeyedherhelplesslyandwithasighof
weariness.
“But–––”heprotestedfeebly,raisinghishand.
“Troubleforme!”sheinterposed;“Iamnotafraidoftrouble.”
“You are indeed a Good Samaritan,” he said in a voice which sounded less
forlorn.“IfIwasn’tajailbird,I’dthankyouinmyprayers.”
Hesmiledcrookedly.“Youknow,convicts’prayersdon’tseemtoriseveryhigh,

miss––don’tseemtoreachanywhere.Wehaven’tgotthestand-inwiththeBoss
thatothersseemtohave,”hesaidinsomebitterness.
“Hush!” she whispered. “You must not say that, for it isn’t true. Those men
mighthavecaughtyou,––buttheydidn’t.But,but,”sheaddedseriously,“surely
youarenotaconvict;notacriminal,Imean?”
Heturnedhishandsoutwardswithashrug.
“Youdon’tlooklikeonewholoveddoingwrong.Ifyouhaveeverdonewrong,
I am sure it was done in a moment of rashness; maybe thoughtlessness.” She
claspedherhandsinfrontofher.“Youwouldneverdoitagain.”
Heshookhishead.
“No,––never,neveragain!”Buthisvoicehadnosoundofcontritioninit.
“Whenyouarefree––reallyfree––youwilltrytobewhatGodmeantyoutobe;
arealman;good,honestandearnest.”
He moved uneasily, then he got up once more, went over to the window and
lookedoutintothenight.Heremainedwithhisbacktoherforsometime,and
shedidnotseektobreakintohisthoughts.
Finallyheturned,and,asheleanedagainstthewallbythedoor,hegazedather
curiously.
“They nick-named me ‘Silent’ in jail, because I wouldn’t talk,” he said in a
huskytone.“Godknows!––whatinducementhadamantotalk––there?”
“MaybeIshouldn’ttalknow––butImightfeelbetterifIdid,andyoucaredto
listen.”
“Yes,ohyes!––pleasetellme,”repliedthegirlearnestly.
“Ihavenevercommittedanycrimeagainstanyone.TheonlywrongIhavedone
istomyself.Likeafool,Itooktheblametosavetheotherfellow,because,oh,
because I thought I was better able to––that was all. But that other fellow
skulkedaway,desertedme;––thelowcoward!”
Theman’svoiceroseinthequietofthatlittlebungalowuponthehillwherethe

only other sounds were the ticking of the clock and the quick breathing of an
anxiouslistener.
“Godhelphimwhenwemeet!”
“Hush!”cautionedthegirlagain.


“When I took on his troubles,” he continued, more quietly, “I did not think of
anythingmorethanafewmonthsinprison,but,GreatGod!theygavemefive
years:––FIVEYEARS!”
Hiseyeswidenedattheawfulnessofthethoughtandalookofagonycameinto
hisface.
EileenPederstonegasped,andherlipsparted.
“Fiveyears,”shewhispered.
Themancontinuedinbitterness.
“Yes!fiveyearsinhell––buriedalive––awayfromhumanity––fromlight––air––
freedom; from the sunshine, the hills, and the valleys; from the sea, the wind,
and, and, the higher things––literature, music, art: truth––love––life:––buried
fromthecombinationofallthese,fromGodhimself.”
He shuddered. He almost wept in his frailness. “And now the very sunshine
hurtslikeanelectricshock,theopenspacesmakemefeellostandafraid;make
melongfortheconfinementofacellagain.”
Hestoppedsuddenlyandbrushedhiseyeswiththebackofhishand.
Eileenwentovertohim,laidahandtenderlyonhistornshirt-sleeveandledhim
overtothechairagain,forhestillshowedsignsofhisphysicalexhaustion.He
satbackandclosedhiseyes.Whenheopenedthemagain,Eileenspoketohim.
“And you ran away? Why, oh, why did you do that? Couldn’t you see that it
wouldmeanrecapture;moreimprisonment?Andyouwereprobablysonearthe
endofit.”
Herwholesoulwasspeakingcompassionately.
“Neartheend!”hesaidbitterly.“Itwastheend.Ibrokeprisonbecausetheyhad

norighttokeepmethereanylonger.”
“Butwhy?Howcouldthatpossiblybe?”sheasked,closingherhandsnervously.
Hegaveexpressiontoasoundofsurpriseatherinnocence.
“Youdon’tknowthem,miss.Anything,everythingispossibleinthere.Theyare
masters,kings,gods.Myconductwasgood.AfterthreeyearsandeightmonthsI
wasduetogetoutinonemonthmore.ButIwasusefultotheminthere.Ihad
education.Iwastheonlyaccountant;thegreatestbook-loverinjail.Tokeepme
fromthinking––forthethinkingiswhatdrivesmenmad––Iworkedandslaved
nightandday.Theyhadnoonetotakemyplace.Iwastrusted.Ididtheworkof


threemen.
“One day I interfered in behalf of a fellow prisoner––a horse thief––who was
wronglyaccusedatthisparticulartimeofbreakingsometrivialprisonlaw.My
good conduct sheet was cancelled. I was told that I must serve my full time.
That’s what I got for trying, for the second time, to help my fellow-man.” He
laughed.“That––andapeculiar-soundingwordwhichthatstrangelittlejailbird
gavetome,onconditionthatIwouldneversellit,statingitwasallhehadand
thatitmightbeusefultomesomedayifIeverhadthehandlingofhorses.
“Yes!––Ishouldhavebeenwisethattime.Itwasmysecondoffenceofhelping
my neighbour. Three years and nine months in jail for a kindly act! Fifteen
monthsmoreinhellinexchangeforaword!Whatbargains!”
Hegrewbitteragain.
“Thehell-hounds!––theythoughtIdidn’ttumbletotheirlittlegame.”
He stopped again, closing his mouth tightly as if inquiring of himself why he
shouldbetellingthisyoungladysomuch.
“Please––pleasegoon,”Eileenpleaded,divininghisthoughts.
“Why?”heaskedbluntly,surveyingtheslight,lissomfigurebeforehim.
“Oh,because––becauseIaminterested.Iamsosorryforyouandforsomany
otherslikeyou,”shesaid.

“Well!––Iservedmyfulltime––fiveyears––threeyearswith365dayseachand
twoleapyearswithanextradayinthem,––1,827daysandnights,43,848hours;
2,630,880 minutes; 157,852,800 second strokes on the clock. You see I
rememberitall.GreatGod,howIusedtofigureitout!
“Eightdaysagomytimewasup.Iaskedthemregardingmyrelease.Andsimply
becauseIinquiredinsteadofwaitingtheirgoodpleasure,theytoldmeIhadtwo
weeksmoretoserve.Thedamnablelie!AsifIdidn’tknow,asifeveryjailbird
doesn’tknowthedayandtheveryminutehisreleaseisdue!
“Twoweeksmore!”hewenton,hisfaceflushedwithindignationandhisbreath
cominginshortjerks.
TheclockonEileen’smantelshelfstruckmidnight,slowlyandclearly.
The convict looked at it and gasped. When it stopped striking, he turned to
Eileenandhiseyestwinkledforasecond.
“TheGovernoroftheprisonhasalittleclockjustthesameasthatinhisprivate


room,”hesaid.“Doyouknow,I’mafraidallthetimethatI’mgoingtowakeup
fromthisandfindmyselfbackthere.”
Hejerkedhistorngarmentstogether.
“GuessI’dbetterbegoing,though.I’vestayedfartoolongalready.Ifeelrested
now.”
“Won’tyoufinishyourstoryfirst?”pleadedEileen.“Ithinkyouaresaferhere––
forawhilelonger––thanyouwouldbeoutside.Itwon’thurttoletthosehorrid,
prying,suspiciouscreaturesgetwellawayfromhere.”
“IhavealreadysaidmorethanIintendedto,”heremarked.
The pair presented a strange contrast as they sat opposite each other in the
lamplight; the one, wet-eyed, sympathetic and earnest; the other, gaunt,
indignant and breathless as he gasped out his story with the hunger of one to
whomsympathywasarediscoveredfriend.
“WherewasIat?”heasked.“Ah,yes!

“The Governor’s dirty-worker wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain. He
orderedmeback.
“At work in the office next day, I took advantage of a warder’s slackness and
brokeclearaway.
“Ididn’tcarewhathappenedthen.Iwascrazed.Anoldladyinacottage––God
blessher!––fedmeandgavemetheseclothes––herson’scastaways––andthree
dollars;allthemoneyshehad.
“Iwalkedtwentymileswithoutstoporlet-up.AfterthatIsleptduringtheday
andwalkedatnight.Threedaysaftermybreakaway,Igotontoafreighttrain
and stole a ride as far as Sicamous. I slept overnight in a barn there. Next
morningItriedtobribeaboytogetmesomefoodatthegrocerystore.Igave
himadollar.Henevercameback.Iheardsomementalkingatthedoorofthe
barn about a suspicious character who had been seen skulking about. That
decided me. I got out when night came and slipped under an empty fruit car
which was being shunted on the siding. I got off yesterday, slipping away
betweenalittlevillageupthelineandhere.Theengineergothiseyeonmeand
stoppedthetrain.Heletsomemenoff:theyweretwodetectives,Ithink.They
hadbeenridinginthecaboose.Theycameafterme.Ifellexhaustedsomewhere
inthebush.WhenIcametoitwasbroaddaylightandthemenweregone.”
HelookedupatEileensuddenly.


“Thereisn’tmuchmore.EarlythismorningImanagedtogetintoabarnbythe
railwaytracks.Igotinthroughaskylightintheroof.Iwenttosleepamongthe
straw there. Soon after, the sound of a key in the padlock outside woke me. I
scrambledupandthroughtheskylightagain,andaway.Therewerethreemen––
onewitharifle.Theyhuntedme,findingmeandlosingmeseveraltimes.The
devilwiththeriflegotalineonmedownthehillashorttimeago.
“When I got to your door I was all in.” He smiled. “You’re a real sport. You
didn’tgivemeaway.”

Hegotupandthrewouthishands.“Oh,what’sthegoodanyway!Alljailbirds
tellthetaleandshouttheirinnocence.”
Eileen’sheartwasmoved.Tearswelledupinhereyes.Shewasatalosstoknow
whattodoorsay.
Asthemanturnedfromher,hiselbowstrucksomethinghangingonthewall.He
caughtatitquicklyasitwasfalling.
Itwasanoldviolinofverydelicateworkmanship.
“Sorry!”heexclaimed,handingittoher.“Iamclumsyinahouse.Haven’tbeen
inoneforsolong.GladIdidn’tsmashit.”
“Ialmostwishyouhad,”saidEileenenigmatically.
“Don’tyoulikemusic?”heasked.
“Oh,yes!”
“Violinmusic?”
“Yes!––butnotfromthatviolin.Itisnotlikeotherviolins:ithasanunsavoury
history.”
“Doyouplay?”
“Nottheviolin,”saidEileen,standingwithherbacktothetable,leaninglightly
there,cladinherdressinggown,herplaitedhairhangingoverhershoulderand
hereyesonherstrangevisitorinmanifestinterest.
“Myfatherisveryfondofscrapingonaviolin.Theoneheplaysishangingup
there.”
Shepointedtoanotherviolinbesidethemantelshelfintheadjoiningroom.
“And this one?” he queried curiously, pointing to the one she had laid on the
table.


“Thisoneisseveralhundredyearsold.Ithasbeeninthefamilyforeversolong.
The story goes with it that the member of our family who owns it will attain
muchwealthduringhislife,butwillloseitagainifhedoesn’tpassitonwhen
he is at the very height of his prosperity. My father says it has always proved

true,andheishopingforthedaywhenitspromisewillbefulfilledinhiscase,
forhelongsforwealthandallitbrings;andhehasstrivenallhislifetogetit.”
“Ihopethathehashiswishandisabletotellwhenhegetstothehighestpoint
ofhissuccess,sothathemaygetridoftheviolinintime.”
Eileensmiled.
“Daddy says that has been the trouble with our forefathers, who always got
wealthy but never seemed to be able to hold it when they got it. That is my
daddyoverthere.”
Shepointedtoframedpictureonthewall.
“Heisbigandbrawny,andnotafraidofanybody.Heis––oh,sogood.Heisthe
bestinalltheworld.”
Theyoungmangazedatherassheexpressedheradmiration.
“Heisn’thereto-night?”heremarked.
Eileen turned her eyes on him sharply, as if she had sensed something of a
suspiciousnatureinhisquery.Butsheshookthethoughtfromherandlaidher
mindbare.
“No!––daddywascalledawaythisafternoon.Hewon’tbebackuntilto-morrow,
noon.
“Thisviolin,”revertedEileen,asifendeavouringtointerestherguestandkeep
his thoughts away from the misery of his own condition as long as possible,
“was the last work of a very famous Italian violin maker, who disappeared
mysteriouslyandwasneverheardofafterwards.Ithasamostbeautifultone,but
foronenote,andthatonenoteishideous.Ugh!––Ihateit.”
Sheshuddered.“Iwouldhavedestroyeditlongagoonlymyfatherprizesitasa
greatcurioandasanheirloom.”
Theconvictshoweddeepinterest.
“Isn’t it strange that a beautiful instrument like this should have a discordant
noteinitthatnooneseemstobeabletoexplainaway?”sheasked,astheystood
togethernearthewindow,losingthemselvesintheirinterest.

“Yes,––it is strange,” returned the man, examining the violin closely. “I have
read of something similar somewhere. The discord, I think, is called the wolf
note,anditiswellnamed.Ibelieveitspresenceisdifficulttoexplain,andsuch
an instrument has occasionally been produced by the best violin makers. They
usuallydestroyedthem,asthediscordisunalterable,makingtheinstrument,of
course,unmarketableasamusicproducer.”
Eileenremainedinthoughtforawhile,thensheheldoutherhandfortheviolin,
tookitfromthemanandwenttothewallwhereshehungitup,asifdismissing
adistastefulsubject.
Back to the young man’s face came the hopeless look of remembrance. “I had
almostforgottenmyself,”heremarked.“Thankyou!Imustbeoff.Ishouldnot
behere.I––Ishouldneverhaveintruded.”
“One moment!” said Eileen. “The air is chilly and you have nothing but that
thin,torn,cottonshirtonyourback.Getintothis!Itisanoldsweaterofmine;it
islooseandbig.Itwillkeepthecoldout.”
“No!YouhavealreadydonemorethanIcaneverhopetopayback.Imightget
caughtwithiton–––”
“But you must,” she put in imperiously. “I have several of them. This is the
oldest of those I have. You are not depriving me of anything, and you will be
gladofitbeforethemorning,foritiscolduphereatnights.”


30

Hetookitfromherwithreluctance,pushedhisarmsintoitanddrewitoverhis
headandshoulders.
“Thank you!” he said in a quiet voice. “I was sick and in prison––I was
anhungered––Iwasthirsty––Iwasnaked.Idon’tknowexactlyhowitgoes,”he
apologised, “but it is something like that and it certainly does apply to you,

miss.”
Hismoodchanged.Heturneduppartofthesleeveofthesweaterandputitto
hislips.
Eileen’sfacetookonafloodofcolourdespiteherself.
Asmileflittedacrosstheunshavenfaceoftheman,disclosinghisregular,clean
teeth.
Eileendrewherselfupstiffly.
Shewenttothedoorandopenedittoallowhimtopassoutofherlifeashehad
comeintoit.Butasheturnedtogo,hestartedbackatasoundinthedark.
Thetall,athleticfigureofamanloomedup,blockedthewayandsteppedinto
thekitchenbesidethem.
Eileengaspedandclutchedatherbosominterror.
“Mr. Brenchfield,” she cried in sudden anger, “what do you mean? You––you
havebeenwatching.Ididn’tthinkyouwereaspy,althoughafterall,possiblyI
did,forIintentionallyheldbackthemanyouareafter.”
Brenchfieldignoredherremarkandpointedwithhisfingeratthefugitive,who
cameforward,hiseyesstaringasifhewereseeinganapparition.
“Great God,––you!” exclaimed the young man. Then with a catching sound in
histhroat,hesprangattheburly,well-fedmanbeforehim.
Brenchfieldwastakencompletelybysurprise.Hestaggeredagainstthesideof
thedoor,asthinclaw-likefingersfoundhisthroatandtriedtostopthevitalair.
Thefingersclosedonhiswindpipetootightlyforcomfort.
Eileencriedoutandtriedtogobetween,butshewasthrustaside.

31

Themenswayedtogether,thenBrenchfield’shandswentup,catchingtheother
bythewristsinafirmhold.Therewasamomentarystruggle,therunaway’sgrip
wasbrokenandhewasflungtothefloor.
BrenchfieldturnedtoEileen.