THE AWARD OF JUSTICE
OR
TOLD IN THE ROCKIES.
A Pen Picture of the West.
BY
A. MAYNARD BARBOUR,
AUTHOR OF
“That Mainwaring Affair.”
“Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof.”––Ecc. vii, 8.
CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:
RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS.
Copyright, 1897, by Rand, McNally & Co. Copyright, 1901, by Rand, McNally & Co.
DEDICATION.
To W. James Barbour,
My co-worker in this pleasant task, at whose suggestion it was undertaken, and by whose inspiration it has been guided, from inception to completion, this book is affectionately dedicated by the author,
A. MAYNARD BARBOUR.
THE AWARD OF JUSTICE
By A. Maynard Barbour.
CHAPTER I.
The Pacific Express was due at Valley City at 1:45 p.m. Within ten minutes of that time, a spring-board wagon, containing two young men and drawn by a pair of bronchos, suddenly appeared around one end of the dingy little depot. One of the men, dressed in a tweed traveling suit, jumped hastily from the wagon, while the other, who looked like a prosperous young ranchman, seemed to have all he could attend to in holding the restive little ponies, who were rearing and kicking in their impatience at being compelled to stand.
“I’m afraid, Ned,” he said, “that you’ll have to look out for your traps yourself; these little rats haven’t been driven for four days, and they’re feeling pretty frisky.”
“All right, Tom,” responded the other, diving under the seat of the spring-board and bringing out the said “traps,” which consisted of two grips, a rifle case, a set of fishing rods, and, last but not least, a large, square case which he handled with great care, and now held up to his companion saying,
“See that, Tom? that’s my set of cameras; they’re fine too, I tell you.”
“But why do you bother to take them around with you all the time, like that?” inquired his friend.
“Oh,” replied Ned, “I do that so as to be ready to catch any choice scenes I come across; I’m making a collection of views, you know, and I expect to get a good many on this trip. By the way, I got some stunning views over there at your place this morning, just before breakfast.”
“The dickens, you did!” exclaimed Tom, suddenly remembering a ludicrous predicament in which his guest had caught him.
“Oh, yes,” said Ned, “and when I get away at a safe distance I’m going to develop them and send them to you. I’ve got an awfully fine––well, by Jove, if that isn’t just my luck!”
Ned had just deposited his belongings on the depot platform and in doing so, noticed a piece of blackboard propped up against the wall, on which were chalked these words, “Train 3 ours late.” His eyes seemed riveted to the spot.
“What’s the matter now?” asked Tom, who took in the situation at a glance.
