UNWILLING WITNESS.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 7076, 23 February 1893, Page 4

UNWILLING WITNESS.

LITERATURE-

rctfHTimiED.) It was nearly hoop when Bodewin reiebad the foot of the pass. Ho had. Ijdt the ticklish places on bis road behind him—the deep woods, the wet itony hollows, the winding gnlobes with high rocky walla that abut opt the auu. The secladod trail be bad taken cow met the stage road, where passengers were frequent. The chances for an ad feature on that exposed hightray~were hardly worth considering, Bodewin kept a quietly watchful eye on each turn of the road or projecting angle of frock, as a matter of habit, rather than of special precaution. As he slowly climbed _ the fast half mile to the samtnii, be heard some one shouting, looking hack, saw a mao on a hard-ridden horse motioning to him from a: distance. Ha waited for the stranger to orertake him. *ll your name is Bodewin, there’s a m»n back here in the timber has got some papers for you.’ Booewin looked hard at bia fallow traveller. He was a man of about fifty, with a tall, stooping figure, a foxay beard that was turning grey, and a scar on the side, of hie thin uoae that made bit eyes deem closer together.

* All right, boss!’ be said. * Take a good look at me. It sounds like a lie, but it aipV ‘Where does your mao say he’s from?' Bodewin asked. *He came oat from camp, just behind .you, S*ys he is one of tbe men from Lounsberry’s stables. Same papers belohin’ to a party named Bode* win got, left:at the Eagle Bird mine. The women folka found 'em jnst after you’d gone. The young lady there, Newbold’s daughter, knew they’d be wanted on tho trial that’s comm’ off to-morrow, and she chartered him to overtake you with ’em. He promised her he wouldn’t give ’em into no hands only yourn.* * Well,’ said Bodewin, * wbat is he doing in tbe timber ?’ 'Horae fell on Liao. He’s all broke ap. 1 come along just alter he was hurt, and be got me to overtake you and git you,to come back for tbe papers. I might be all right, he said, but he couldn’t let ’em out of bis hands.’

The ingenuousness of this speech was not borne out by the speaker's countenance, but various considerations were working on Bodewin during the few seconds it took him to choose between the risks of believing a false •tory and doubting a true one. ' Are you going back?* the man inquired. ‘ I’m goin’. I want to git him'into shape, bo’s he can git back to ■ camp/ - ‘ Hold on a minute. Where did you ’ gar thisdnao was ?* 'Back here half a mile in the timber.*'- , ‘ All right,* Bodewin anid. * Go on. t*m with yoq,’ The stranger did not mok back or. wait for Bodewin, but tamed his horse’s head down the hill agaid. Ha turned off from the stage road into the trail by which Bodewin bid come. They were soon among the trees—the stunted pines and spruces, straggling ahead of those clow colams of the main forest. He?e Bodewin met with evidence confirmatory of his friend’s story. A grev horse could plainly be seim. a short distance ahead of them, foraging for a bite by the wayside, while near bim in the sparse shade lay a manat full length on the ground. Bodewin thought he could remember having seen such n light-grey with white mane and tail at Lou Deberry’s stables H« was sure be remembered the man’s face, when be dame near enough to see it. He was that dull, darkoyedel youth, partner of ths Irishman whom Bodewin had conversed with at bis claim on the mountain. Bodewin was apt surprised to find the prospector, two weeks later, a stableman. It was the way of the c»mp. 'You don’t remember me, Mr Bodewin,* the young man said, lifting bis sullen Hack eyes to Bodewin’s face. ? But I know you/ He opened bis coat hod took hold ot some papers that showed, projecting from so ioside pocket. • ...... ‘Hire’s the papers she told me to give you ; I can’t raise op/ His face was darkly flushed, as with pain, i ,* You don’t need to git off, Mr Bodswid,’ the other man said. ‘ I can hand’em to you/ * No, you can’t,’ the messenger objected. * I promised her I’d give ’em into bis hands of fetch ’em back to her; rtbff lie to her to save him gettin’ off hia horse. Moses.' .bow my logs hurts,! ’ With his first unguarded impulse Bodewin dropped from his saddle, to ihe.gronnd, and- stooped frankly and compassionately, to receive the papers ; j‘w£'dCjhe instant he stooped he felt ,fl bis pistol leaying his pistol-pocket, A hand hand had withdrawn it from bethe band of his mgenubhs guide. Turning smartly as be . straightened himself, Bodewm’s bead nearly-touched the muzzle of another revolver. * Stop!’ a hard voica called ‘ If you , move you’re a-dead man/ (hd‘ not . move. A second 'had presented ' of' a pistol held ' hia; head by i Miss Newhold’s faithful messenger. - Ouedeep and fervent curse escaped him* andvtben Bodewin asked : man with the 4a along with os, or do you want to fight P ’ ' 'Fight! * said/ Bodewin. 1 IV*; get a good show, bifen’t If' 1

* We’re a little to soon for yon, that's | a fact. Tie his bends, Tony.’ | ‘Too needn’t tie my hands/ Bodewin expostulated. ‘ I will go along ail right ’. * You’d better mean it, if you say so. We don’t want to hurt yon,’ * I don’t intend to get hurt. What are yon going to do with me ?’ ‘ We’re goin’ to keep you kind of qoiet for a few days. You won’t have a bad time of it if you’re peaceable. We’ll have to cover year eyes Mr Bodewin. We don’t want you to get too intimate with the road we’re going. Hand me the rag, Tony.’ ‘ Would you mind taking my handkerchief P’ Bodewin asked. The man with the scar considerately made use of Bodewin’s handkerchief to bind his eyee instead of a degraded piece of calico which looked like part of a woman’s apron. * The elder man bad dropped his hard business tone for the semi confidential drawl be reserved for social purposes. ‘ Tony you can lead off, and 111 close up the procession,’ ‘ And you’ll do ihe talking,’ Tony remarked.

* Well, if yon don’t talk I can’t say Dotbni’,’ the alder man retorted. The procession moved on in single file, Bodewin, disarmed and blindfolded, between the two captors. He had not been in a moment’s doubt as to cite auihor of the wayside pleasantry. The plan of bis capture, he was convinced, had originated in a more subtile i ban either of those selected to carry it <>u». What chiefly hurt him was the thought that his dissappearance might be misunderstood by his friends of the Eagle Bird. His promice to appear at tbe trial had delayed the serving of the subpoena ; they might conclude, if disposed to doubt his good faith, that be bad availed himself of this solitary rids to give them the slip, even were wore it not planned for that purpose. If he could but semd some message back! The thing that seemed so little possible as to escape himself. All that, however, could wait. Deprived of eyesight, his remaining senses were doubly on the alert to report each feature of tbe road. By tbe sound of bis horse's feet be knew they were still on the trail. They followed it but a short distance, perhaps from fear of meeting other passengers, then, turning to tbe left, struck across a gravelly ridge. Bodewin recognized it as one of those numerous lateral moranies making lesser valleys at right angles to tbe great valley of tbe Arkansas. Tbe plan of march was not adapted to conversation. Occasionally a voice would admonish Bodewin : {To he continued.)