Friends in San Rosario
The west-bound train stopped at San Rosario on time at 8.20 A.M. A manwith a thick black-leather wallet under his arm left the train andwalked rapidly up the main street of the town. There were otherpassengers who also got off at San Rosario, but they either slouchedlimberly over to the railroad eating-house or the Silver Dollarsaloon, or joined the groups of idlers about the station.
Indecision had no part in the movements of the man with the wallet. Hewas short in stature, but strongly built, with very light, closely-trimmed hair, smooth, determined face, and aggressive, gold-rimmednose glasses. He was well dressed in the prevailing Eastern style. Hisair denoted a quiet but conscious reserve force, if not actualauthority.
After walking a distance of three squares he came to the centre of thetown's business area. Here another street of importance crossed themain one, forming the hub of San Rosario's life and commerce. Upon onecorner stood the post-office. Upon another Rubensky's ClothingEmporium. The other two diagonally opposing corners were occupied bythe town's two banks, the First National and the Stockmen's National.Into the First National Bank of San Rosario the newcomer walked, neverslowing his brisk step until he stood at the cashier's window. Thebank opened for business at nine, and the working force was alreadyassembled, each member preparing his department for the day'sbusiness. The cashier was examining the mail when he noticed thestranger standing at his window.
"Bank doesn't open 'til nine," he remarked curtly, but withoutfeeling. He had had to make that statement so often to early birdssince San Rosario adopted city banking hours.
"I am well aware of that," said the other man, in cool, brittle tones."Will you kindly receive my card?"
The cashier drew the small, spotless parallelogram inside the bars ofhis wicket, and read:
J.F.C NettlewickNational Bank Examiner
"Oh--er--will you walk around inside, Mr.--er--Nettlewick. Your firstvisit--didn't know your business, of course. Walk right around,please."
The examiner was quickly inside the sacred precincts of the bank,where he was ponderously introduced to each employee in turn by Mr.Edlinger, the cashier--a middle-aged gentleman of deliberation,discretion, and method.
"I was kind of expecting Sam Turner round again, pretty soon," saidMr. Edlinger. "Sam's been examining us now, for about four years. Iguess you'll find us all right, though, considering the tightness inbusiness. Not overly much money on hand, but able to stand the storms,sir, stand the storms."
"Mr. Turner and I have been ordered by the Comptroller to exchangedistricts," said the examiner, in his decisive, formal tones. "He iscovering my old territory in Southern Illinois and Indiana. I willtake the cash first, please."
Perry Dorsey, the teller, was already arranging his cash on thecounter for the examiner's inspection. He knew it was right to a cent,and he had nothing to fear, but he was nervous and flustered. So wasevery man in the bank. There was something so icy and swift, soimpersonal and uncompromising about this man that his very presenceseemed an accusation. He looked to be a man who would never make noroverlook an error.
Mr. Nettlewick first seized the currency, and with a rapid, almostjuggling motion, counted it by packages. Then he spun the sponge cuptoward him and verified the count by bills. His thin, white fingersflew like some expert musician's upon the keys of a piano. He dumpedthe gold upon the counter with a crash, and the coins whined and sangas they skimmed across the marble slab from the tips of his nimbledigits. The air was full of fractional currency when he came to thehalves and quarters. He counted the last nickle and dime. He had thescales brought, and he weighed every sack of silver in the vault. Hequestioned Dorsey concerning each of the cash memoranda--certainchecks, charge slips, etc., carried over from the previous day's work--with unimpeachable courtesy, yet with something so mysteriouslymomentous in his frigid manner, that the teller was reduced to pinkcheeks and a stammering tongue.
This newly-imported examiner was so different from Sam Turner. It hadbeen Sam's way to enter the bank with a shout, pass the cigars, andtell the latest stories he had picked up on his rounds. His customarygreeting to Dorsey had been, "Hello, Perry! Haven't skipped out withthe boodle yet, I see." Turner's way of counting the cash had beendifferent, too. He would finger the packages of bills in a tired kindof way, and then go into the vault and kick over a few sacks ofsilver, and the thing was done. Halves and quarters and dimes? Not forSam Turner. "No chicken feed for me," he would say when they were setbefore him. "I'm not in the agricultural department." But, then,Turner was a Texan, an old friend of the bank's president, and hadknown Dorsey since he was a baby.
While the examiner was counting the cash, Major Thomas B. Kingman--known to every one as "Major Tom"--the president of the FirstNational, drove up to the side door with his old dun horse and buggy,and came inside. He saw the examiner busy with the money, and, goinginto the little "pony corral," as he called it, in which his desk wasrailed off, he began to look over his letters.
Earlier, a little incident had occurred that even the sharp eyes ofthe examiner had failed to notice. When he had begun his work at thecash counter, Mr. Edlinger had winked significantly at Roy Wilson, theyouthful bank messenger, and nodded his head slightly toward the frontdoor. Roy understood, got his hat, and walked leisurely out, with hiscollector's book under his arm. Once outside, he made a bee-line forthe Stockmen's National. That bank was also getting ready to open. Nocustomers had, as yet, presented themselves.
"Say, you people!" cried Roy, with the familiarity of youth and longacquaintance, "you want to get a move on you. There's a new bankexaminer over at the First, and he's a stem-winder. He's countingnickles on Perry, and he's got the whole outfit bluffed. Mr. Edlingergave me the tip to let you know."
Mr. Buckley, president of the Stockmen's National--a stout, elderlyman, looking like a farmer dressed for Sunday--heard Roy from hisprivate office at the rear and called him.
"Has Major Kingman come down to the bank yet?" he asked of the boy.
"Yes, sir, he was just driving up as I left," said Roy.
"I want you to take him a note. Put it into his own hands as soon asyou get back."
Mr. Buckley sat down and began to write.
Roy returned and handed to Major Kingman the envelope containing thenote. The major read it, folded it, and slipped it into his vestpocket. He leaned back in his chair for a few moments as if he weremeditating deeply, and then rose and went into the vault. He came outwith the bulky, old-fashioned leather note case stamped on the back ingilt letters, "Bills Discounted." In this were the notes due the bankwith their attached securities, and the major, in his rough way,dumped the lot upon his desk and began to sort them over.
By this time Nettlewick had finished his count of the cash. His pencilfluttered like a swallow over the sheet of paper on which he had sethis figures. He opened his black wallet, which seemed to be also akind of secret memorandum book, made a few rapid figures in it,wheeled and transfixed Dorsey with the glare of his spectacles. Thatlook seemed to say: "You're safe this time, but--"
"Cash all correct," snapped the examiner. He made a dash for theindividual bookkeeper, and, for a few minutes there was a flutteringof ledger leaves and a sailing of balance sheets through the air.
"How often do you balance your pass-books?" he demanded, suddenly.
"Er--once a month," faltered the individual bookkeeper, wondering howmany years they would give him.
"All right," said the examiner, turning and charging upon the generalbookkeeper, who had the statements of his foreign banks and theirreconcilement memoranda ready. Everything there was found to be allright. Then the stub book of the certificates of deposit. Flutter--flutter--zip--zip--check! All right. List of over-drafts, please.Thanks. H'm-m. Unsigned bills of the bank, next. All right.
Then came the cashier's turn, and easy-going Mr. Edlinger rubbed hisnose and polished his glasses nervously under the quick fire ofquestions concerning the circulation, undivided profits, bank realestate, and stock ownership.
Presently Nettlewick was aware of a big man towering above him at hiselbow--a man sixty years of age, rugged and hale, with a rough,grizzled beard, a mass of gray hair, and a pair of penetrating blueeyes that confronted the formidable glasses of the examiner without aflicker.
"Er--Major Kingman, our president--er--Mr. Nettlewick," said thecashier.
Two men of very different types shook hands. One was a finishedproduct of the world of straight lines, conventional methods, andformal affairs. The other was something freer, wider, and nearer tonature. Tom Kingman had not been cut to any pattern. He had beenmule-driver, cowboy, ranger, soldier, sheriff, prospector, andcattleman. Now, when he was bank president, his old comrades from theprairies, of the saddle, tent, and trail found no change in him. Hehad made his fortune when Texas cattle were at the high tide of value,and had organized the First National Bank of San Rosario. In spite ofhis largeness of heart and sometimes unwise generosity toward his oldfriends, the bank had prospered, for Major Tom Kingman knew men aswell as he knew cattle. Of late years the cattle business had known adepression, and the major's bank was one of the few whose losses hadnot been great.
"And now," said the examiner, briskly, pulling out his watch, "thelast thing is the loans. We will take them up now, if you please."
He had gone through the First National at almost record-breaking speed--but thoroughly, as he did everything. The running order of the bankwas smooth and clean, and that had facilitated his work. There was butone other bank in the town. He received from the Government a fee oftwenty-five dollars for each bank that he examined. He should be ableto go over those loans and discounts in half an hour. If so, he couldexamine the other bank immediately afterward, and catch the 11.45, theonly other train that day in the direction he was working. Otherwise,he would have to spend the night and Sunday in this uninterestingWestern town. That was why Mr. Nettlewick was rushing matters.
"Come with me, sir," said Major Kingman, in his deep voice, thatunited the Southern drawl with the rhythmic twang of the West; "Wewill go over them together. Nobody in the bank knows those notes as Ido. Some of 'em are a little wobbly on their legs, and some aremavericks without extra many brands on their backs, but they'll mostall pay out at the round-up."
The two sat down at the president's desk. First, the examiner wentthrough the notes at lightning speed, and added up their total,finding it to agree with the amount of loans carried on the book ofdaily balances. Next, he took up the larger loans, inquiringscrupulously into the condition of their endorsers or securities. Thenew examiner's mind seemed to course and turn and make unexpecteddashes hither and thither like a bloodhound seeking a trail. Finallyhe pushed aside all the notes except a few, which he arranged in aneat pile before him, and began a dry, formal little speech.
"I find, sir, the condition of your bank to be very good, consideringthe poor crops and the depression in the cattle interests of yourstate. The clerical work seems to be done accurately and punctually.Your past-due paper is moderate in amount, and promises only a smallloss. I would recommend the calling in of your large loans, and themaking of only sixty and ninety day or call loans until generalbusiness revives. And now, there is one thing more, and I will havefinished with the bank. Here are six notes aggregating something like$40,000. They are secured, according to their faces, by variousstocks, bonds, shares, etc. to the value of $70,000. Those securitiesare missing from the notes to which they should be attached. I supposeyou have them in the safe or vault. You will permit me to examinethem."
Major Tom's light-blue eyes turned unflinchingly toward the examiner.
"No, sir," he said, in a low but steady tone; "those securities areneither in the safe nor in the vault. I have taken them. You may holdme personally responsible for their absence."
Nettlewick felt a slight thrill. He had not expected this. He hadstruck a momentous trail when the hunt was drawing to a close.
"Ah!" said the examiner. He waited a moment, and then continued: "MayI ask you to explain more definitely?"
"The securities were taken by me," repeated the major. "It was not formy own use, but to save an old friend in trouble. Come in here, sir,and we'll talk it over."
He led the examiner into the bank's private office at the rear, andclosed the door. There was a desk, and a table, and half-a-dozenleather-covered chairs. On the wall was the mounted head of a Texassteer with horns five feet from tip to tip. Opposite hung the major'sold cavalry saber that he had carried at Shiloh and Fort Pillow.
Placing a chair for Nettlewick, the major seated himself by thewindow, from which he could see the post-office and the carvedlimestone front of the Stockmen's National. He did not speak at once,and Nettlewick felt, perhaps, that the ice could be broken bysomething so near its own temperature as the voice of officialwarning.
"Your statement," he began, "since you have failed to modify it,amounts, as you must know, to a very serious thing. You are aware,also, of what my duty must compel me to do. I shall have to go beforethe United States Commissioner and make--"
"I know, I know," said Major Tom, with a wave of his hand. "You don'tsuppose I'd run a bank without being posted on national banking lawsand the revised statutes! Do your duty. I'm not asking any favours.But, I spoke of my friend. I did want you to hear me tell you aboutBob."
Nettlewick settled himself in his chair. There would be no leaving SanRosario for him that day. He would have to telegraph to theComptroller of the Currency; he would have to swear out a warrantbefore the United States Commissioner for the arrest of Major Kingman;perhaps he would be ordered to close the bank on account of the lossof the securities. It was not the first crime the examiner hadunearthed. Once or twice the terrible upheaval of human emotions thathis investigations had loosed had almost caused a ripple in hisofficial calm. He had seen bank men kneel and plead and cry like womenfor a chance--an hour's time--the overlooking of a single error. Onecashier had shot himself at his desk before him. None of them hadtaken it with the dignity and coolness of this stern old Westerner.Nettlewick felt that he owed it to him at least to listen if he wishedto talk. With his elbow on the arm of his chair, and his square chinresting upon the fingers of his right hand, the bank examiner waitedto hear the confession of the president of the First National Bank ofSan Rosario.
"When a man's your friend," began Major Tom, somewhat didactically,"for forty years, and tried by water, fire, earth, and cyclones, whenyou can do him a little favour you feel like doing it."
("Embezzle for him $70,000 worth of securities," thought theexaminer.)
"We were cowboys together, Bob and I," continued the major, speakingslowly, and deliberately, and musingly, as if his thoughts were ratherwith the past than the critical present, "and we prospected togetherfor gold and silver over Arizona, New Mexico, and a good part ofCalifornia. We were both in the war of 'sixty-one, but in differentcommands. We've fought Indians and horse-thieves side by side; we'vestarved for weeks in a cabin in the Arizona mountains, buried twentyfeet deep in snow; we've ridden herd together when the wind blew sohard the lightning couldn't strike--well, Bob and I have been throughsome rough spells since the first time we met in the branding camp ofthe old Anchor-Bar ranch. And during that time we've found itnecessary more than once to help each other out of tight places. Inthose days it was expected of a man to stick to his friend, and hedidn't ask any credit for it. Probably next day you'd need him to getat your back and help stand off a band of Apaches, or put a tourniqueton your leg above a rattlesnake bite and ride for whisky. So, afterall, it was give and take, and if you didn't stand square with yourpardner, why, you might be shy one when you needed him. But Bob was aman who was willing to go further than that. He never played a limit.
"Twenty years ago I was sheriff of this country, and I made Bob mychief deputy. That was before the boom in cattle when we both made ourstake. I was sheriff and collector, and it was a big thing for methen. I was married, and we had a boy and a girl--a four and a sixyear old. There was a comfortable house next to the courthouse,furnished by the county, rent free, and I was saving some money. Bobdid most of the office work. Both of us had seen rough times andplenty of rustling and danger, and I tell you it was great to hear therain and the sleet dashing against the windows of nights, and be warmand safe and comfortable, and know you could get up in the morning andbe shaved and have folks call you 'mister.' And then, I had the finestwife and kids that ever struck the range, and my old friend with meenjoying the first fruits of prosperity and white shirts, and I guessI was happy. Yes, I was happy about that time."
The major sighed and glanced casually out of the window. The bankexaminer changed his position, and leaned his chin upon his otherhand.
"One winter," continued the major, "the money for the county taxescame pouring in so fast that I didn't have time to take the stuff tothe bank for a week. I just shoved the checks into a cigar box and themoney into a sack, and locked them in the big safe that belonged tothe sheriff's office.
"I had been overworked that week, and was about sick, anyway. Mynerves were out of order, and my sleep at night didn't seem to restme. The doctor had some scientific name for it, and I was takingmedicine. And so, added to the rest, I went to bed at night with thatmoney on my mind. Not that there was much need of being worried, forthe safe was a good one, and nobody but Bob and I knew thecombination. On Friday night there was about $6,500 in cash in thebag. On Saturday morning I went to the office as usual. The safe waslocked, and Bob was writing at his desk. I opened the safe, and themoney was gone. I called Bob, and roused everybody in the court-houseto announce the robbery. It struck me that Bob took it pretty quiet,considering how much it reflected upon both him and me.
"Two days went by and we never got a clew. It couldn't have beenburglars, for the safe had been opened by the combination in theproper way. People must have begun to talk, for one afternoon in comesAlice--that's my wife--and the boy and girl, and Alice stamps herfoot, and her eyes flash, and she cries out, 'The lying wretches--Tom,Tom!' and I catch her in a faint, and bring her 'round little bylittle, and she lays her head down and cries and cries for the firsttime since she took Tom Kingman's name and fortunes. And Jack andZilla--the youngsters--they were always wild as tiger cubs to rushover Bob and climb all over him whenever they were allowed to come tothe court-house--they stood and kicked their little shoes, and herdedtogether like scared partridges. They were having their first tripdown into the shadows of life. Bob was working at his desk, and he gotup and went out without a word. The grand jury was in session then,and the next morning Bob went before them and confessed that he stolethe money. He said he lost it in a poker game. In fifteen minutes theyhad found a true bill and sent me the warrant to arrest the man withwhom I'd been closer than a thousand brothers for many a year.
"I did it, and then I said to Bob, pointing: 'There's my house, andhere's my office, and up there's Maine, and out that way isCalifornia, and over there is Florida--and that's your range 'tilcourt meets. You're in my charge, and I take the responsibility. Yoube here when you're wanted.'
"'Thanks, Tom,' he said, kind of carelessly; 'I was sort of hoping youwouldn't lock me up. Court meets next Monday, so, if you don't object,I'll just loaf around the office until then. I've got one favour toask, if it isn't too much. If you'd let the kids come out in the yardonce in a while and have a romp I'd like it.'
"'Why not?' I answered him. 'They're welcome, and so are you. And cometo my house, the same as ever.' You see, Mr. Nettlewick, you can'tmake a friend of a thief, but neither can you make a thief of afriend, all at once."
The examiner made no answer. At that moment was heard the shrillwhistle of a locomotive pulling into the depot. That was the train onthe little, narrow-gauge road that struck into San Rosario from thesouth. The major cocked his ear and listened for a moment, and lookedat his watch. The narrow-gauge was in on time--10.35. The majorcontinued:
"So Bob hung around the office, reading the papers and smoking. I putanother deputy to work in his place, and after a while, the firstexcitement of the case wore off.
"One day when we were alone in the office Bob came over to where I wassitting. He looked sort of grim and blue--the same look he used to getwhen he'd been up watching for Indians all night or herd-riding.
"'Tom,' says he, 'it's harder than standing off redskins; it's harderthan lying in the lava desert forty miles from water; but I'm going tostick it out to the end. You know that's been my style. But if you'dtip me the smallest kind of a sign--if you'd just say, "Bob Iunderstand," why, it would make it lots easier.'
"I was surprised. 'I don't know what you mean, Bob,' I said. 'Ofcourse, you know that I'd do anything under the sun to help you that Icould. But you've got me guessing.'
"'All right, Tom,' was all he said, and he went back to his newspaperand lit another cigar.
"It was the night before court met when I found out what he meant. Iwent to bed that night with that same old, light-headed, nervousfeeling come back upon me. I dropped off to sleep about midnight. WhenI awoke I was standing half dressed in one of the court-housecorridors. Bob was holding one of my arms, our family doctor theother, and Alice was shaking me and half crying. She had sent for thedoctor without my knowing it, and when he came they had found me outof bed and missing, and had begun a search.
"'Sleep-walking,' said the doctor.
"All of us went back to the house, and the doctor told us someremarkable stories about the strange things people had done while inthat condition. I was feeling rather chilly after my trip out, and, asmy wife was out of the room at the time, I pulled open the door of anold wardrobe that stood in the room and dragged out a big quilt I hadseen in there. With it tumbled out the bag of money for stealing whichBob was to be tried--and convicted--in the morning.
"'How the jumping rattlesnakes did that get there?' I yelled, and allhands must have seen how surprised I was. Bob knew in a flash.
"'You darned old snoozer,' he said, with the old-time look on hisface, 'I saw you put it there. I watched you open the safe and take itout, and I followed you. I looked through the window and saw you hideit in that wardrobe.'
"'Then, you blankety-blank, flop-eared, sheep-headed coyote, what didyou say you took it, for?'
"'Because,' said Bob, simply, 'I didn't know you were asleep.'
"I saw him glance toward the door of the room where Jack and Zillawere, and I knew then what it meant to be a man's friend from Bob'spoint of view."
Major Tom paused, and again directed his glance out of the window. Hesaw some one in the Stockmen's National Bank reach and draw a yellowshade down the whole length of its plate-glass, big front window,although the position of the sun did not seem to warrant such adefensive movement against its rays.
Nettlewick sat up straight in his chair. He had listened patiently,but without consuming interest, to the major's story. It had impressedhim as irrelevant to the situation, and it could certainly have noeffect upon the consequences. Those Western people, he thought, had anexaggerated sentimentality. They were not business-like. They neededto be protected from their friends. Evidently the major had concluded.And what he had said amounted to nothing.
"May I ask," said the examiner, "if you have anything further to saythat bears directly upon the question of those abstracted securities?"
"Abstracted securities, sir!" Major Tom turned suddenly in his chair,his blue eyes flashing upon the examiner. "What do you mean, sir?"
He drew from his coat pocket a batch of folded papers held together bya rubber band, tossed them into Nettlewick's hands, and rose to hisfeet.
"You'll find those securities there, sir, every stock, bond, and shareof 'em. I took them from the notes while you were counting the cash.Examine and compare them for yourself."
The major led the way back into the banking room. The examiner,astounded, perplexed, nettled, at sea, followed. He felt that he hadbeen made the victim of something that was not exactly a hoax, butthat left him in the shoes of one who had been played upon, used, andthen discarded, without even an inkling of the game. Perhaps, also,his official position had been irreverently juggled with. But therewas nothing he could take hold of. An official report of the matterwould be an absurdity. And, somehow, he felt that he would never knowanything more about the matter than he did then.
Frigidly, mechanically, Nettlewick examined the securities, found themto tally with the notes, gathered his black wallet, and rose todepart.
"I will say," he protested, turning the indignant glare of his glassesupon Major Kingman, "that your statements--your misleading statements,which you have not condescended to explain--do not appear to be quitethe thing, regarded either as business or humour. I do not understandsuch motives or actions."
Major Tom looked down at him serenely and not unkindly.
"Son," he said, "there are plenty of things in the chaparral, and onthe prairies, and up the canyons that you don't understand. But I wantto thank you for listening to a garrulous old man's prosy story. Weold Texans love to talk about our adventures and our old comrades, andthe home folks have long ago learned to run when we begin with 'Onceupon a time,' so we have to spin our yarns to the stranger within ourgates."
The major smiled, but the examiner only bowed coldly, and abruptlyquitted the bank. They saw him travel diagonally across the street ina straight line and enter the Stockmen's National Bank.
Major Tom sat down at his desk, and drew from his vest pocket the noteRoy had given him. He had read it once, but hurriedly, and now, withsomething like a twinkle in his eyes, he read it again. These were thewords he read:
Dear Tom:
I hear there's one of Uncle Sam's grayhounds going through you,and that means that we'll catch him inside of a couple of hours,maybe. Now, I want you to do something for me. We've got just$2,200 in the bank, and the law requires that we have $20,000. Ilet Ross and Fisher have $18,000 late yesterday afternoon to buyup that Gibson bunch of cattle. They'll realise $40,000 in lessthan thirty days on the transaction, but that won't make my cashon hand look any prettier to that bank examiner. Now, I can't showhim those notes, for they're just plain notes of hand without anysecurity in sight, but you know very well that Pink Ross and JimFisher are two of the finest white men God ever made, and they'lldo the square thing. You remember Jim Fisher--he was the one whoshot that faro dealer in El Paso. I wired Sam Bradshaw's bank tosend me $20,000, and it will get in on the narrow-gauge at 10.35.You can't let a bank examiner in to count $2,200 and close yourdoors. Tom, you hold that examiner. Hold him. Hold him if you haveto rope him and sit on his head. Watch our front window after thenarrow-gauge gets in, and when we've got the cash inside we'llpull down the shade for a signal. Don't turn him loose till then.I'm counting on you, Tom.
Your Old Pard,Bob Buckly,/Prest. Stockmen's National/.
The major began to tear the note into small pieces and throw them intohis waste basket. He gave a satisfied chuckle as he did so.
"Confounded old reckless cowpuncher!" he growled, contentedly, "thatpays him some on account for what he tried to do for me in thesheriff's office twenty years ago."
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