Laska Opens A Door

: Ridgway Of Montana

The first ballots for a United States senator taken by the legislature in

joint session failed to disclose the alignment of some of the doubtful

members. The Democratic minority of twenty-eight votes were cast for

Springer, the senator whose place would be taken by whoever should win in

the contest now on. Warner received forty-four, Ridgway twenty-six, eight

went to Pascom, a former governor whom the cattlemen were supporting, and
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the remaining three were scattered. Each day one ballot was taken, and for

a week there was a slight sifting down of the complimentary votes until at

the end of it the count stood:



Warner 45

Ridgway 28

Springer 28

Pascom 8



Warner still lacked ten votes of an election, but It was pretty thoroughly

understood that several of the Democratic minority were waiting only long

enough for a colorable excuse to switch to him. All kinds of rumors were in

the air as to how many of these there were. The Consolidated leaders boldly

claimed that they had only to give the word to force the election of their

candidate on any ballot. Yesler did not believe this claim could be

justified, since Pelton and Harley were already negotiating with him for

the delivery of the votes belonging to the cattlemen's contingent.



He had held off for some time with hints that it would take a lot of money

to swing the votes of such men as Roper and Landor, but he had finally come

to an agreement that the eight votes should be given to Warner for a

consideration of $300,000. This was to be paid to Yesler in the presence of

the other seven members on the night before the election, and was to be

held in escrow by him and Roper until the pact was fulfilled, the money to

be kept in a safety deposit vault with a key in possession of each of the

two.



On the third day of the session, before the voting had begun, Stephen

Eaton, who was a State senator from Mesa, moved that a committee be

appointed to investigate the rumors of bribery that were so common. The

motion caught the Consolidated leaders napping, for this was the last man

they had expected to propose such a course, and it went through with little

opposition, as a similar motion did in the House at the same time. The

lieutenant-governor and the speaker of the House were both opposed to

Warner, and the joint committee had on it the names of no Consolidated men.

The idea of such a committee had originated with Ridgway, and had been

merely a bluff to show that he at least was willing that the world should

know the whole story of the election. Nor had this committee held even

formal meetings before word reached Eaton through Yesler that if it would

appoint a conference in some very private place, evidence would be

submitted implicating agents of the Warner forces in attempts at bribery.



It was close to eleven o'clock when Sam Yesler stepped quietly from a side

door of his hotel and slipped into the street. He understood perfectly that

in following the course he did, he was taking his life in his hands. The

exposure of the bribery traffic would blast forever the reputations of many

men who had hitherto held a high place in the community, and he knew the

temper of some of them well enough to be aware that an explosion was

probable. Spies had been dogging him ever since the legislature convened.

Within an hour one of them would be flying to Pelton with the news that he

was at a meeting of the committee, and all the thugs of the other side

would be turned loose on his heels. As he walked briskly through the

streets toward the place appointed, his hand lay on the hilt of a revolver

in the outside pocket of his overcoat. He was a man who would neither seek

trouble nor let it overwhelm him. If his life were attempted, he meant to

defend it to the last.



He followed side streets purposely, and his footsteps echoed along the

deserted road. He knew he was being dogged, for once, when he glanced back,

he caught sight of a skulking figure edging along close to a wall. The

sight of the spy stirred his blood. Grimly he laughed to himself. They

might murder him for what he was doing, but not in time to save the

exposure which would be brought to light on the morrow.



The committee met at a road-house near the outskirts of the city, but only

long enough to hear Yesler's facts and to appoint another meeting for three

hours later at the offices of Eaton. For the committee had come here for

secrecy, and they knew that it would be only a short time before Pelton's

heelers would be down upon them in force. It was agreed they should divide

and slip quietly back to town, wait until everything was quiet and convene

again. Meanwhile Eaton would make arrangements to see that his offices

would be sufficiently guarded for protection against any attack.



Yesler walked back to town and was within a couple of blocks of his hotel

when he glimpsed two figures crouching against the fence of the alley. He

stopped in his tracks, watched them intently an instant, and was startled

by a whistle from the rear. He knew at once his retreat, too, was cut off,

and without hesitation vaulted the fence in front of a big gray stone house

he was passing. A revolver flashed from the alley, and he laughed with a

strange kind of delight. His thought was to escape round the house, but

trellis work barred the way, and he could not open the gate.



"Trapped, by Jove," he told himself coolly as a bullet struck the trellis

close to his head.



He turned back, ran up the steps of the porch and found momentary safety in

the darkness of its heavy vines. But this he knew could not last. Running

figures were converging toward him at a focal point. He could hear oaths

and cries. Some one was throwing aimless shots from a revolver at the

porch.



He heard a window go up in the second story and a woman's frightened voice

ask. "What is it? Who is there?"



"Let me in. I'm ambushed by thugs," he called back.



"There he is--in the doorway," a voice cried out of the night, and it was

followed by a spatter of bullets about him.



He fired at a man leaping the fence. The fellow tumbled back with a kind of

scream.



"God! I'm hit."



He could hear steps coming down the stairway and fingers fumbling at the

key of the door. His attackers were gathering for a rush, and he wondered

whether the rescue was to be too late. They came together, the opening door

and the forward pour of huddled figures. He stepped back into the hall.



There was a raucous curse, a shot, and Yesler had slammed the door shut. He

was alone in the darkness with his rescuer.



"We must get out of here. They're firing through the door," he said, and

"Yes" came faintly back to him from across the hall.



"Do you know where the switch is?" he asked, wondering whether she was

going to be such an idiot as to faint at this inopportune moment.



His answer came in a flood of light, and showed him a young woman crouched

on the hall-rack a dozen feet from the switch. She was very white, and

there was a little stain of crimson on the white lace of her sleeve.



A voice from the landing above demanded quickly, "Who are you, sir?" and

after he had looked up', cried in surprise, "Mr. Yesler."



"Miss Balfour," he replied. "I'll explain later. I'm afraid the lady has

been hit by a bullet."



He was already beside his rescuer. She looked at him with a trace of a

tired smile and said:



"In my arm."



After which she fainted. He picked up the young woman, carried her to the

stairs, and mounted them.



"This way," said Virginia, leading him into a bedroom, the door of which

was open.



He observed with surprise that she, too, was dressed in evening clothes,

and rightly surmised that they had just come back from some social

function.



"Is it serious?" asked Virginia, when he had laid his burden on the bed.



She was already clipping with a pair of scissors the sleeve from round the

wound.



"It ought not to be," he said after he had examined it. "The bullet has

scorched along the fleshy part of the forearm. We must telephone for a

doctor at once."



She did so, then found water and cotton for bandages, and helped him make a

temporary dressing. The patient recovered consciousness under the touch of

the cold water, and asked: what was the matter.



"You have been hurt a little, but not badly I think. Don't you remember?

You came down and opened the door to let me in."



"They were shooting at you. What for?" she wanted to know.



He smiled. "Don't worry about that. It's all over with. I'm sorry you were

hurt in saving me," said Yesler gently.



"Did I save you?" The gray eyes showed a gleam of pleasure.



"You certainly did."



"This is Mr. Yesler, Laska. Mr. Yesler--Miss Lowe. I think you have never

met."



"Never before to-night," he said, pinning the bandage in place round the

plump arm. "There. That's all just now, ma'am. Did I hurt you very much?"



The young woman felt oddly exhilarated. "Not much. I'll forgive you if

you'll tell me all about the affair. Why did they want to hurt you?"



His big heart felt very tender toward this girl who had been wounded for

him, but he showed it only by a smiling deference.



"You're right persistent, ma'am. You hadn't ought to be bothering your head

about any such thing, but if you feel that way I'll be glad to tell you."



He did. While they sat there and waited for the coming of the doctor, he

told her the whole story of his attempt to stop the corruption that was

eating like a canker at the life of the State. He was a plain man, not in

the least eloquent, and he told his story without any sense that he had

played any unusual part. In fact, he was ashamed that he had been forced to

assume a role which necessitated a kind of treachery to those who thought

they had bought him.



Laska Lowe's eyes shone with the delight his tale inspired in her. She

lived largely in the land of ideals, and this fight against wrong moved her

mightily. She could feel for him none of the shame which he felt for

himself at being mixed up in so bad a business. He was playing a man's

part, had chosen it at risk of his life. That was enough. In every fiber of

her, she was glad that good fortune had given her the chance to bear a part

of the battle. In her inmost heart she was even glad that to the day of her

death she must bear the scar that would remind her she had suffered in so

good a cause.



Virginia, for once obliterating herself, perceived how greatly taken they

were with each other. At bottom, nearly every woman is a match-maker. This

one was no exception. She liked both this man and this woman, and her fancy

had already begun to follow her hopes. Never before had Laska appeared to

show much interest in any of the opposite sex with whom her friend had seen

her. Now she was all enthusiasm, had forgotten completely the pain of her

wound in the spirit's glow.



"She loved me for the danger I had pass'd,

And I loved her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.'"



Virginia quoted softly to herself, her eyes on the young woman so finely

unconscious of the emotion that thrilled her.



Not until the clock in the hall below struck two did Yesler remember his

appointment in the Ridgway Building. The doctor had come and was about to

go. He suggested that if Yesler felt it would be safe for him to go, they

might walk across to the hotel together.



"And leave us alone." Laska could have bitten her tongue after the words

were out.



Virginia explained. "The Leighs are out of the city to-night, and it

happens that even the servants are gone. I asked Miss Lowe to stay with me

all night, but, of course, she feels feverish and nervous after this

excitement. Couldn't you send a man to watch the rest of the night out in

the house?"



"Why don't You stay, Mr. Yesler?" the doctor suggested. "You could sleep

here, no doubt."



"You might have your meeting here. It is neutral ground. I can phone to Mr.

Ridgway," proposed Virginia in a low voice to Yesler.



"Doesn't that seem to imply that I'm afraid to leave?" laughed Yesler.



"It implies that we are afraid to have you. Laska would worry both on your

account and our own. I think you owe it to her to stay."



"Oh, if that's the way it strikes you," he agreed. "Fact is, I don't quite

like to leave you anyhow. We'll take Leigh's study. I don't think we shall

disturb you at all."



"I'm sure you won't--and before you go, you'll let us know what you have

decided to do."



"We shall not be through before morning. You'll be asleep by then," he made

answer.



"No, I couldn't sleep till I know all about it."



"Nor I," agreed Laska. "I want to know all about everything."



"My dear young lady, you are to take the sleeping-powders and get a good

rest," the doctor demurred. "All about everything is too large an order for

your good just now."



Virginia nodded in a businesslike way. "Yes, you're to go to sleep, Laska,

and when you waken I'll tell you all about it."



"That would be better," smiled Yesler, and Virginia thought it significant

that her friend made no further protest.



Gray streaks began to show in the sky before Yesler tapped on the door of

Virginia's room. She had discarded the rather elaborate evening gown he had

last seen her in, and was wearing some soft fabric which hung from the

shoulders in straight lines, and defined the figure while lending the

effect of a loose and flowing drapery.



"How is your patient?" he asked.



"She has dropped into a good sleep," the girl whispered. "I am sure we

don't need to worry about her at all."



"Nevertheless, it's a luxury I'm going to permit myself for a day or two,"

he smiled. "I don't have my life saved by a young lady very often."



"I'm sure you will enjoy worrying about her," she laughed.



He got back at her promptly. "There's somebody down-stairs worrying about

you. He wants to know if there is anything he can do for you, and suggests

inviting himself for breakfast in order to make sure."



"Mr. Ridgway?"



"How did you guess it first crack? Mr. Ridgway it is."



She considered a moment. "Yes, tell him to stay. Molly will be back in time

to make breakfast, and I want to talk to him. Now tell me what you did."



"We did Mr. Warner. At least I hope so," he chuckled.



"I'm so glad. And who is to be senator? Is it Waring?"



"No. It wouldn't have been possible to elect him even if we had wanted to."



"And you didn't want to," she flashed.



"No, we didn't," he admitted frankly. "We couldn't afford to have it

generally understood that this was merely a partisan fight on the

Consolidated, and that we were pulling Waring's chestnuts out of the fire

for him."



He did not add, though he might have, that Ridgway was tarred with the same

brush as the enemy in this matter.



"Then who is it to be?"



"That's a secret. I can't tell even you that. But we have agreed on a man.

Waring is to withdraw and throw his influence for him. The Democratic

minority will swing in line for him, and we'll do the rest. That's the

plan. It may not go through, however."



"I don't see who it can be that you all unite on. Of course, it isn't Mr.

Pelton?"



"I should hope not."



"Or Mr. Samuel Yesler?"



"You've used up all the guesses allowed you. If you want to know, why don't

you attend the joint session to-day? It ought to be highly interesting."



"I shall," she announced promptly. "And I'll bring Laska with me."



"She won't be able to come."



"I think she will. It's only a scratch."



"I don't like to think how much worse it might have been."



"Then don't think of it. Tell Waring I'll be down presently."



He went down-stairs again, and Miss Balfour returned to the room.



"Was that Mr. Yesler?" quietly asked a voice from the bed.



"Yes, dear. He has gone back to the hotel. He asked about you, of course."



"He is very kind."



"It was thoughtful, since you only saved his life," admitted the ironical

Miss Balfour.



"Wasn't it fortunate that we were up?"



"Very fortunate for him that you were."



Virginia crossed the room to the bed and kissed her friend with some subtle

significance too elusive for words. Laska appeared, however to appreciate

it. At least, she blushed.



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