A mighty groan from Barney.
"He's got a practice, though," went on Jim, utterly ignoring the apparent misery of his would-be tormentor. "Somehow he manages to cure folks as some of our old doctors can't. I reckon a change o' physic's good fer folks, same's a change o' diet – "
"Or a clane shirt," broke in Carnes, with an insinuating glance in the direction of Jim's rather dingy linen.
"Eggsackly," retorted Long, turning back his cuffs with great care and glancing menacingly at his enemy – "er a thrashin'."
"Gentlemen," I interposed, "let us have peace. And tell me, Jim, where may we find your model Traftonite, your hero of the curls, moustaches, dainty hands, and discriminating politeness? I have not seen him."
"Whar?" retorted Long, in an aggrieved tone, "look here, boss, you don't think I ever mean anythin' personal by my remarks? I'd sworn it were all that way when you come ter notice. The average Traftonite's the sleekest, pertiest chap on earth. We wuz born so."
Some more demonstrations in pantomime from Carnes, and silence fell upon us. I knew from the way Long smoked at his pipe and glowered at Carnes that nothing more in the way of information need be expected from him. He had said enough, or too much, or something he had not intended to say; he looked dissatisfied, and soon we separated, Long repairing to his farm, and Carnes and I to our hotel, all in search of dinner.
"We won't have much trouble in finding the 'Average Traftonite,' old man," I said, as we sauntered back to town.
No answer; Carnes was smoking a huge black pipe and gazing thoughtfully on the ground.
"I wonder if any attempt has been made to rob Miss Manvers of those treasure-ship jewels," I ventured next.
"Umph!"
"Or of her blooded horses. Carnes, what's your opinion of Long?"
Carnes took his pipe from his mouth and turned upon me two serious eyes. When I saw the expression in them I knew he was ready to talk business.
"Honor bright?" he queried, without a trace of his Irish accent.
"Honor bright."
"Well," restoring his pipe and puffing out a black cloud, "he's an odd fish!"
"Bad?"
"He's a fraud!"
"As how?"
"Cute, keen, has played the fool so long he sometimes believes himself one. Did you notice any little discrepancies in his speech?
"Well, rather."
"Nobody else ever would, I'll be bound; not the 'Average Traftonite,' at least. That man has not always been at odds with the English grammar, mark me. What do you think, Bathurst?"
"I think," responded I, soberly, "that we shall find in him an ally or an enemy."
We had been sauntering "across lots," over some of the Brookhouse acres, and we now struck into a path leading down to the highway, that brought us out just opposite the cottage occupied by Dr. Bethel.
As we approached, the doctor was leaning over the gate in conversation with a gentleman seated in a light road wagon, whose face was turned away from us.
As we came near he turned his head, favoring us with a careless glance, and, as I saw his face, I recognized him as the handsome young gallant who had attended the friend of Miss Grace Ballou, on the occasion of that friend's visit to the Ballou farm, and who had bidden the ladies such an impressive good-bye as I drove them away from the village station.
Contrary to my first intention I approached the gate, and as I drew near, the young man gathered up his reins and nodding to the doctor drove away.
Dr. Bethel and myself had exchanged civilities at our hotel, and I addressed him in a careless way as I paused at the gate.
"That's a fine stepping horse, doctor," nodding after the receding turnout; "is it owned in the town?"
"Yes," replied the doctor; "that is young Brookhouse, or rather one of them. There are two or three sons; they all drive fine stock."
I was passing in the town for a well-to-do city young man with sporting propensities, and as the doctor swung open the gate and strode beside me toward the hotel, Carnes trudging on in advance, the talk turned quite naturally upon horses, and horse owners.
That night I wrote to Mrs. Ballou, stating that I had nothing of much moment to impart, but desired that she would notify me several days in advance of her proposed visit to the city, as I wished to meet her. This letter I sent to our office to be forwarded to Groveland from thence.
CHAPTER VII.
WE ORGANIZE
We had not been long in Trafton before our reputation as thoroughly good fellows was well established, "each man after his kind."
Carnes entered with zest into the part he had undertaken. He was hail fellow well met with every old bummer and corner loafer; he made himself acquainted with all the gossippers and possessed of all the gossip of the town.
After a little he began to grow somewhat unsteady in his habits, and under the influence of too much liquor, would occasionally make remarks, disparaging or otherwise as the occasion warranted, concerning me, and so it came about that I was believed to be a young man of wealth, the possessor of an irascible temper, but very generous; the victim of a woman's falseness; – but here Carnes always assured people that he did not know "the particulars," and that, if it came to my ears that he had "mentioned" it, it would cost him his place, etc.
These scraps of private history were always brought forward by, or drawn out of, him when he was supposed to be "the worse for liquor." In his "sober" moments he was discreetness itself.
So adroitly did he play his part that, without knowing how it came about, Trafton had accepted me at Carnes' standard, and I found my way made smooth, and myself considered a desirable acquisition to Trafton society.
I became acquainted with the lawyers, the ministers, the county officials, for Trafton was the county seat. I was soon on a social footing with the Brookhouses, father and son. I made my bow before the fair owner of the treasure-ship jewels; and began to feel a genuine interest in, and liking for, Dr. Bethel, who, according to Jim Long, was not Trafton style.
Thus fairly launched upon the Trafton tide, and having assured ourselves that no one entertained a suspicion of our masquerade, we began to look more diligently about us for fresh information concerning the depredations that had made the town attractive to us.
Sitting together one night, after Carnes had spent the evening at an especially objectionable saloon, and I had returned from a small social gathering whither I had been piloted by one of my new acquaintances, we began "taking account of stock," as Carnes quaintly put it.
"The question now arises," said Carnes, dropping his Hibernianisms, and taking them up again as his enthusiasm waxed or waned. "The question is this: What's in our hand? What do wee's know? What do wee's surmise, and what have wee's got till find out?"
"Very comprehensively put, old fellow," I laughed, while I referred to a previously mentioned note book. "First, then, what do we know?"
"Well," replied Carnes, tilting back his chair, "we know more than mony a poor fellow has known when he set out to work up a knotty case. We know we are in the field, bedad. We know that horses have been stolen, houses broken open, robberies great and small committed here. We know they have been well planned and systematic, engineered by a cute head."
Carnes stopped abruptly, and looked over as if he expected me to finish the summing up.
"Yes," I replied, "we knew all that in the beginning; now for what we have picked up. First, then, just run your eye over this memorandum; I made it out to-day, and, like a love letter, it should be