"Why don't you sit down?" suggested the masked man, "you'll find it much easier to talk."
It was gratifying to Dave to find that the man he so admired took the announcement of his crime so calmly. He returned to his blanket, close to the Lone Ranger.
"So you stole from the bank in New Orleans where you were working, eh?"
Dave nodded. "My folks were mighty proud of me, working in the bank there. They thought it was a fine thing for me to learn the banking business and grow up to be a gentleman. There was a fellow there who knew a lot more about the business than I did. He showed me how we could borrow a little money from the bank and use it for gambling and then put the money back out of what we won."
"So you did that?"
"Yes, I did!" There was a touch of defiance in Dave's voice as if he challenged the other to lecture on the evil of bad companions, but the Lone Ranger said nothing. Then Dave Walters went on. "I knew it was wrong, and I'm not trying to say that I was misled by this fellow. I knew all along what I was doing and thought I'd be smart enough to get away with it. Well, we lost what we borrowed, and then we took some more, figuring to put it all back. We kept getting deeper and deeper in the hole until there wasn't any use in trying to square things. I had to choose between getting caught and sent to jail, or running away. I ran away."
Dave stopped.
"There's a lot more to tell, isn't there, Dave?" asked the Lone Ranger.
"No, that's about all."
"But what happened between the time you ran away from New Orleans and the time you went to jail in Snake River?"
"Oh, there's isn't much to tell. I hopped a freight train that was heading west with empty cars to load up a lot of cattle. Some men found me on the train, and threw me off without my bundle of extra clothes. All I had was what I was wearing, so I wasn't hindered by any extra weight in starting out on foot. I met another man on the road. His name was Higgy."
"Higgy? That's an odd name."
"I don't know his real name, but that's what he called himself. He showed me how to go up to a farmhouse and ask for work. We managed to do some chores along the way to get food, and sometimes the farmers would let us sleep in the barn. Other times we just slept in the open fields."
"Well, winter was coming, and Higgy and I thought it would be wise to travel South to a warmer climate. It was a long way to Texas, so we tried to get a ride on another freight train. I jumped for the train, but it was traveling pretty fast. I missed my grip and fell off. That's when I got hurt. I was hurt badly, and I figured I was going to die right then and there. Higgy thought the same, so he stayed with me. I don't remember much of what happened for several days after. I guess I had Higgy to thank for pulling me through. He got me food and water, and made a camp where I could stay. But I thought for sure I was going out. I didn't want to die with the robbery on my mind, and thought I'd feel better if I got the whole thing written down. Higgy got pencil and paper and I wrote a full confession and signed it. I addressed it to Pa, and asked him to try and square my account with the bank."
"Higgy promised that he'd see that Pa got my letter. He left the camp and didn't come back. I don't know where he went. I guess I was there for several days. I couldn't walk, couldn't even sit up, my chest hurt every time I moved. I was cold and I'd gotten past the point of feeling hungry."
"Then some men came along and took care of me. They were from a railroad camp and took me back there with them. My broken ribs healed, and I managed to earn my keep at the camp by cooking for the men. All I wanted was to get enough cash together to get back home."
Dave yawned widely.
"Finish your story," said the Lone Ranger. "I want to hear all of it before morning, because in the morning I might want to ride into Snake River."
"You're not going back there, are you?" asked Dave in surprise.
"Perhaps, but go on. What happened after the railroad camp? Did you go back to New Orleans?"
"I went back. I'd been away for almost a year. It took me all winter to get cash enough to go. I… I didn't have the nerve to try to hook another train ride. When I got back, I found that Pa and Ma had moved away. No one knew where they had gone. Pa had sold the house to repay what I had stolen. With the little money he had left, Pa bought a wagon and a team of horses, then he and Ma joined a wagon train headed for the West. I—well I had to find Pa and Ma. I just had to!"
Dave Walters was on his feet again, pacing nervously and talking more rapidly than before. "I found out that someone had come into New Orleans with a story that I'd been killed. Pa believed the story and that was why he'd packed up and left, without telling anyone where he went. Folks who saw me in New Orleans thought I was a ghost or something. I had to find my folks, don't you see, stranger? They thought I was dead. They… they'd given up all they had to square my account. I wanted to be with them, to try and help them. I swore I wouldn't touch a cent of the money I had left. I sewed it inside my shirt and started west on foot."
Dave told all the details of his trip into the West. He explained how he had traveled from one place to another, constantly asking questions, seeking someone who had seen or heard of his father. "I didn't have any great sum of cash, but it was a lot to me. I had fifty dollars when I reached New Orleans. I knew that Pa and Ma would need the money when I found them. But I didn't realize that the West is a big place."
"I thought I'd had a hard two years of it, but all that had gone before was nothing compared to what I went through when I got to Snake River! I started asking questions about Pa an' Ma at Snake River. The second day I was there the Sheriff and a deputy arrested me. They searched me and found the money I had inside my shirt. I didn't know what they wanted me for, and they wouldn't say. They hustled me to the jail and then folks came and looked me over. They said I was the one all right. I tried to explain who I was looking for and tell folks that I'd earned the cash I had, but no one would listen to me!"
"Why," interrupted the Lone Ranger at this point, "were you jailed?"
"An older woman had been killed and robbed. She'd had about fifty dollars hidden in her house. Being a stranger and having asked a lot of questions about old folks in town I was suspected, and when they found me with the cash that was all there was to it. As far as anyone could see, I was the killer. That's why I was jailed. I hadn't been tried yet, but I guess it wouldn't have mattered if I had been. I'd have been strung up in the end anyway."
The Lone Ranger was on his feet. "Keep talking," he told Dave Walters, as he went to take his saddle from the ground.
"There's nothing more to tell. You took me out of the jail to save me from the lynchers. If I'd stayed there, I'd have been lynched, but now that I've been rescued from the jail, it's all the more proof to those men that I'm the killer. There's nothing ahead now, nothing I can ever do to prove that I'm not a killer!"
The Lone Ranger whistled softly and the big white stallion trotted to his side. He tossed the saddle on the animal's straight back and cinched it tight. "You take it easy," the masked man said.
"What are you cinching up for?"
"I'm riding out."
Tonto rose and hurried to the masked man's side. "You stay with Dave Walters, Tonto. I want him to get some sleep and rest. He'll need it for the trip that's ahead of him in the morning."
"What you do?" inquired the Indian.
"When I heard talk around Snake River of the lynching that was to take place, I thought there might be a lot more to the story than had been told. Now I know the true story."
Dave looked at the masked man in surprise. "Yuh believe my story?" he said.
"Why shouldn't I believe it? It's the truth, isn't it?"
"Y-yes, it's the truth, but I didn't think anyone would believe me when I told a yarn like that."
"I believe you. Furthermore, I'm going to ride into town and see if I can't get more information."
"For what?"
The Lone Ranger looked steadily at Dave Walters for a moment. Then he spoke slowly. "Dave, there is just one sure way to establish the fact that you're not a murderer."
"How's that?" asked Dave.
"By finding the one who
really
killed the woman."
"But I don't see," returned Dave thoughtfully, "how you can do that by going back to town."
"I don't either, Dave, but I certainly can't learn any more by remaining here. Now you get some sleep. Tonto will waken you at sunrise and take you to another camp. I'll meet you there later on."
"But if you go to town, they'll jail you for sure. The guards got a good look at you."
"I'll take that chance," he said. He leaped astride the big white horse, whirled, and rode off toward the town. The hearty ringing voice of the fast-disappearing masked man shouted, "Hi-Yo, Silver! Away-y-y!"
That shout rang in Dave's ears through his troubled dreams for the remainder of the night.
The valley through which Snake River flowed offered lush grazing for thousands of head of cattle. And the river itself supplied an abundance of good, cool water. To travel-weary pioneers from the east, this valley seemed to be a little bit of Heaven dropped for their personal use. After long weeks on the mesquite studded trail, with scorching sun and alkali dust adding to discouragement and despair, Snake River valley was a most welcome place to rest.
Some of the more hardy pioneers paused here only long enough to repair their wagons and equipment and fatten up their livestock before pushing on toward the distant gold fields. But there were many who gave up the quest for gold to settle in the valley and build homes.
Later, many of those who sought for gold returned with stories of the barren lands. They, too, settled in the small community and devoted their time and energies to building homes, planting crops, and raising cattle. In the course of time, Snake River grew in size. Other people joined the original settlers, leaders were chosen, and government was installed. A church was built and those familiar evils of the West, cafés and dance halls, came in due course.
And so Snake River became a typical cattle town of the West. It was generally a peaceful place, but tonight it fairly hummed with activity. Murder and prison breaks were practically unknown in Snake River. With the escape of Dave Walters, following the excitement of his capture; the appearance of the masked man, and the fruitless chase through the night with guns barking; there was plenty for the people to discuss. Saloons were jammed to the doors and men shouldered one another to press close to the guards and hear for the hundredth time the recital of the thrilling jail break.
Eph Summers, one of the guards, was the center of attraction. As each new arrival came through the swinging doors of the Royal Flush Café, Eph was called on to repeat his tale, and each time he told it, he saw where he could add a bit to the true statement of facts and improve the story.
"Thar was the two of us," he said dramatically, "me an' the other guard, Lem Purvis. We stood thar, starin' at that masked hombre outside the window, with our hands at shoulder level. I seen them two six-guns the crittur held on us, an' they was jest about one size smaller than one of the army cannons. I never seen a shootin' iron that looked as big as them two. Wal, we see that they warn't no sense in tryin' tuh jump at the masked man. He had the drop on us an' what's more, he was outside the winder where we couldn't o' reached him if we had jumped him. Now, if only he'd been inside the room, they would have been a mighty different story. I'd have used my lightnin' speed an' dove right under his shootin' irons tuh grapple his legs an' spill him off'n his feet. But he warn't inside the room."
"Which was mighty lucky fer you," someone commented.
Eph glowered at the ring of men around him.
"Go on Eph," shouted one of the men, "don't stop now. Someone pass Eph a drink tuh wet his whistle."
A bottle of fiery liquor was shoved into the guard's hand. He took a deep drink from the bottle, then wiped his lips and moustache on his shirt sleeve. "Now," he said, "git back an' gimme plenty of room. I'm comin' tuh the part that gits excitin'." He braced his feet wide apart, and cleared a little space around him. The grinning crowd knew what was coming and they were enjoying the act immensely.
"Thar we stood," said Eph, lifting his hands, one of which clutched the neck of the bottle, shoulder high. "We stood jest so, our hands h'isted like this. Our backs was ag'in the door of the cell where the prisoner was confined."
"Then this murderin' coyote reached from behind the bars of the cell door an' snatched our shootin' irons from leather. Next he got the keys from my pocket an' let himself out, slammin' the door behind him."
At this point, Eph Summers dropped his arms and illustrated with gestures exactly how the captive had slammed the door of the cell. "He raced outen the place, shoutin' all manner o' threats at the two of us, promisin' us he'd come back an' kill us as soon as he got the chance. Meanwhile, this crittur at the window opened fire again, throwin' hot lead so close I could feel the wind o' the bullets an' hear 'em as they went past me."
"I could see that Lem was scairt most outen his wits, but my head was cool an' my brain was workin' like all git-out. I was figgerin' an' schemin' fer some way tuh trap that escapin' man an' the man with the mask as well. I could hear the other men a-comin' on the run an' I figgered if only I could delay their escape fer a couple minutes the boys would be on hand tuh help me out."
Eph took another swig and gathered himself for the grand climax of his recital. "Wal," he said, "I ran outside jest as them two was startin' tuh hightail it. I see at a glance I couldn't run tuh catch 'em, so I tried the next best thing. I drove headfirst, arms reachin' far out."
The bleary-eyed guard demonstrated by taking a few short steps, then launching himself in an awkward dive with arms outflung. He landed with a crash on the wide-board floor. His boots clattered and dust shot up from between the boards. A dozen voices roared in approval of his act, and everyone seemed to be offering to buy the guard another drink. Eph himself, though bruised from many repetitions of his story, sat on the floor grinning foolishly at the crowd's appreciation. He still clutched the bottle in one hand.