Coburn

“ Coburn answered slowly. “I don’t think we need worry about Merriman, but I’m hanged if I know what to think about Hilliard. He’s pretty observant, and there’s not much about this place that he hasn’t seen at one time or another.”
“All the better for us, isn’t it?” Bulla queried.
“So far as it goes, yes,” the manager agreed, “and I’ve stuffed him with yarns about costs and about giving up the props and going in for paving blocks and so on which I think he swallowed. But why should he want to know what we are doing? What possible interest can the place have for him—unless he suspects?” ”

“ He could not be sure, but at all events the girl hastened to second her father’s invitation.
“I hope you will wait for dinner,” she said. “As he says, we see so few people, and particularly so few English, that it would be doing us a kindness. I’m afraid that’s not very complimentary”—she laughed brightly—“but it’s at least true.”
They stayed and enjoyed themselves. Mr. Coburn proved himself an entertaining host, and his conversation, though satirical, was worth listening to. He and Hilliard talked, while Merriman, who was something of a musician, tried over songs with Miss Coburn. ”

“ Hilliard answered. “We have penetrated a good many of the rivers, or rather I have, and we came up here to see the sand-dunes and forests of the Landes, which are new to me. A very desolate country, is it not?”
Mr. Coburn agreed, continuing courteously:
“I am glad at all events that your researches have brought you into our neighborhood. We do not come across many visitors here, and it is pleasant occasionally to speak one’s own language to someone outside one’s household. ”

“ The men in the cabin were making a move. Coburn finished his whisky, and he and Henri rose to their feet.
“Well,” the former said, “There’s one o’clock. We must be off.”
The others stood up also, and at the same moment Hilliard crept once more up the ladder to the bridge and crouched down in the shadow of the chart-house. Hardly was he there when the men came out of the cabin to the deck beneath the bridge, then with a brief exchange of “Good-nights,” Coburn and the lorry driver passed down the ladder, crossed the gangway and disappeared behind a stack of pit-props on the wharf. ”

“ In among them pressed Tom Coburn's mother, making her selection, and asking the price.
"Now where's that boy? His hands grow so quick that I can't be sure of anything without trying them on."
With a despairing smile at the saleswoman, she followed her usual tactics of being elbowed from the counter, while she looked about vainly for the boy. At the right moment she slipped into the pushing, struggling mass of tired women, where she could count on being no more remarked than a single crow in a flock. The mittens were in the muff which was the prize of an earlier expedition. ”

“ The whole range spotted with dead critters. Like a boneyard a hundred miles square. We’d rode all day across a cow country graveyard. When I heard cattle bawling, I thought I was dreaming. That herd trailing up out of the breaks. A man too weak to walk, riding behind ’em, singing— It was something, Doc, that a man won’t ever forget.”
They filled their glasses and drank in silence. Then they tiptoed out and Buck Bell slept on, a smile of peace on his frost cracked lips.
Outside, the chinook wind whispered its promise to the cow country. ”

“ His first professional appearance was of the musical team of Trewetz and Coburn, in 1886. Subsequently in 1890 he joined Louis Baldwin in a comedy act, and continued with the latter until his (Baldwin’s) death.
Mr. Coburn’s first minstrel engagement was with the W. S. Cleveland Company, in 1893.
Five years later he was owner and manager of the original Barlow Bros. Minstrels; subsequently known as the Great Barlow Minstrels.
Mr. Coburn rehearses and directs his own show, and has the distinction of being one of the best known men in the minstrel business. ”

“ Again, if there’s anything, Miss Coburn knows about it. Oh, yes, she does,” he repeated as Merriman would have dissented, “there is your own evidence. But if she knows about some large, shady undertaking, she undoubtedly may be in both difficulty and danger. At all events, as long as the chance exists it’s up to us to make sure.”
Merriman rose to his feet and began to pace up and down, his head bent and a frown on his face. Hilliard took no notice of him and presently he came back and sat down again. ”

“ Coburn and another had stayed in the Peveril Hotel in Russell Square during the previous four days. When Willis saw it he gave a grunt of satisfaction. It would doubtless offer a ready means to learn the identity of the deceased, as well possibly as of the other, in whom Willis was already even more interested. Moreover, so good a clue must be worked without delay. He called over the second plain clothes man.
“Take this bill to the Peveril, Matthews,” he ordered. “Find out if the dead man is this Coburn, and if possible get on the track of his companion. ”

“ Coburn, and we will talk over what is to be done.”
At this her eyes dilated with terror.
“No, no!” she cried again. “He would be in danger. He would try something that might offend the others, and his life might not be safe. I tell you I don’t trust Captain Beamish and Mr. Bulla. I don’t think they would stop at anything to keep their secret. He is trying to get out of it, and he must not be hurried. He will do what he can.”
“But, my dearest,” Merriman remonstrated, “it could do no harm, to talk the matter over with him. That would commit him to nothing.” ”

“ Merriman, that your idea is that Mr. Coburn was murdered by a member of the syndicate?”
“Yes, and I think he foresaw his fate. I think when he told them he was going to break with them they feared he might betray them, and wanted to be on the safe side.”
“Any of them a tall, stoutly built man?”
“Captain Beamish is tall and strongly built, but I should not say he was stout.”
“Describe him.”
“He stooped and was a little round-shouldered, but even then he was tall. If he had held himself up he would have been a big man. ”

“ There were fleet messengers in every direction, through the Counties of Middlesex and Essex and Norfolk. Those lanterns in the North Church steeple meant as much to many others as to those on the Charlestown shore. But few details of their rides have been left to us. Yet everywhere the hoof-beats, the shadowy form of the horseman—his cry of alarm, the drums—the bells—the guns—the assembling of the minute men,—their hurried march towards that one long and thin highway from Boston to Concord ”

“ The crooked smile on his thin lips vanished. A man seeing a ghost could look no more startled.
“Something’s wrong as ——,” he muttered as his leg swung to catch the ox-bow stirrup. Beads of moisture stood out on his cheeks. His claw-like fingers shook as they wrapped about the ivory butt of the low-hung .45. He gazed as if fascinated at the oncoming herd.
With those cattle came ruination and defeat. The absence of Kipp, Tad and Shorty was now accounted for. Somehow, they had gotten into the Pocket, killed or captured Black Jack and his men and were bringing out the stolen herd. ”

“ Not a word passed their clamped jaws as they rolled to the water’s edge and under the feet of Shorty’s horse.
The horse, frightened, lashed out at the struggling forms. A shod hoof struck Bill in the ribs and with a groan, he relaxed his grip. Rolling free of the horse’s flying hoofs, Pete staggered to his feet, aiming a kick at Bill’s face. The stocking-clad heel caught Bill on the cheek. With a last effort, the outlaw clutched Pete’s leg and wrapped his arms about it, jerking Pete off balance and bringing him to the ground. ”

“ Guns popped jubilant greeting to a day that held no hard ride after stray cattle.
Most of them were flat broke. Cotton Eye, the bloated financier, had lost his money and hocked his spurs for a bottle to take along. Then he engaged the bartender in conversation while a confederate stole back the spurs.
Horace gathered his men one, by one, mounted them, and started them out of town. They bucked their horses down the street, emptying their guns at a leaden sky. Behind them was their night’s pleasure. Ahead lay the dread winter.
Buck Bell got his private horse from the barn. ”

“ Particularly might he do this if he had suffered at their hands in the way he suggested. On the other hand, a strong man would undoubtedly consult his fellow-conspirators and see that a pretty determined fight was made for their liberty and their source of gain.
He had thought of all this when it suddenly flashed into his mind that Mr. Coburn’s presence in the shed at two in the morning in itself required a lot of explanation. He did not for a moment believe the aspirin story. The man had looked so shifty while he was speaking, that even at the time Merriman had decided he was lying. ”

“ Merriman stammered. “At least I know someone of the name. I—”
Willis glanced keenly at the newcomer. Here was a man who must, judging by his agitation, have been pretty closely connected with Francis Coburn. Suspicious of everyone, the detective recognized that there might be more here than met the eye. He drew out his notebook. ”

“ Another prisoner, the sixth, was captured by Sylvanus Wood of Woburn, the man who joined Captain Parker's Company, and stood in line to receive the first volley, as the British marched into sight. When they marched away he followed on, up over Concord and Fiske Hills. Arriving at a turn in the road, beyond the latter, he came unexpectedly upon a soldier who for some good reason had dropped out of the ranks. He was seated at the roadside, and his gun leaned at rest beyond his reach. Wood was a little man, about five feet tall, but large in valor. ”

“ We can imagine him as a prudent man, with a quiet, yet firm courage.
[61]
Two men from Woburn had just arrived, and it was then a little before five o'clock. They were Sylvanus Wood and Robert Douglass. They had come about three miles, having heard, about an hour before, the ringing of the bell in the Old Belfry, which stood near the church on the Common. As Wood came up he approached Captain Parker and inquired the news. Parker replied that he did not know what to believe, for, half an hour before, a messenger had returned with the assurance that no British were on the way. ”

“ With the wind at his back, Buck Bell drifted. His heart was as heavy as the leaden sky. Ahead of him rolled a giant tumbleweed. On and on, across the bench, grotesque, almost alive, blown along by the north wind. Headed south.
In the pockets of his black chaps was stowed more money than he had ever seen or even dreamed of. There was not a chance of the theft being fastened to him. It had been easy, almost too easy to seem true. With five thousand dollars a man could buy a good bunch of cattle down in New Mexico or Arizona. Buck was cowman enough to make a herd pay. ”

“ Bordeaux, as no one knows better than yourself, is just the center of the brandy district. You see what I’m getting at. My department would naturally be interested in a mysterious trade from the Bordeaux district. You accidentally find one. See? Now what do you think of it?”
“I don’t think much of it,” Merriman answered sharply, while a wave of unreasoning anger passed over him. The suggestion annoyed him unaccountably. The vision of Madeleine Coburn’s clear, honest eyes returned forcibly to his recollection. ”

“ At night Coburn and company would screw off the hollow ends, fill the cylinders with brandy, screw on the end again, and there you have your props—harmless, innocent props—ready for loading up on the Girondin. Of course, they’d have them marked. Then when they’re being unloaded that manager would get the marked ones put aside—they could somehow be defective, too long or too short or too thin or too anything you like—he would find some reason for separating them out—and then at night he would open the things and pour out the brandy, screw them up again and—there you are! ”

“ In the meantime the ever vigilant flank-guard were attracted to the contest, and a ball from one of their muskets struck his head and rendered him unconscious. They rushed to the spot, and clubbed him with their muskets and pierced him with their bayonets until they felt sure that he was dead. Soon after they left him, he was found by the Americans, and as he seemed to still live they bore him to the Cooper Tavern. Dr. Tufts of Medford was summoned, but declared it useless to dress so many wounds as the aged man could not possibly survive. ”

“ In the pocket of his chaps was a plug, but he somehow felt ashamed of mistrusting Kipp and wanted the old fellow to know that he was no longer covered.
Kipp tossed him a piece of tobacco, noticing the while that Tad’s Winchester now pointed in another direction. He grinned understandingly and they rode on down the steep trail.
Dark fell like a black blanket, to be followed by the pale moonlight. From the river bottom, miles below, the faint sound of shots echoed, reechoed, and died away, leaving a silence charged with a sinister foreboding that caused Tad Ladd’s eyes to narrow dangerously. ”

“ They bin brandin’, so the gent told me. We’ll take our time now. Dark’ll come on quick here in the cañons and we’ll slip into the Pocket afore they spot us.”
“How many men down there?”
“Hard tuh tell. Mebbe three-four. Mebbe so a dozen. They drift in and out. If they bin brandin’, like as not there’ll be half a dozen.”
Kipp led the way along the narrow trail that now led along the side of the shale cliff. Tad understood now why it required but one man to guard the trail. A single man could, by hiding behind the rimrock above, drop as many men as he had cartridges in his gun. ”