She stood in the doorway and watched the red tail-light, like a malevolent eye, disappear down the street. And presently as she stood there, down the boulevard a huge gray car came slipping noiselessly--so noiselessly, in fact, that Shirley recognized it by that very quality of silence. It was Bryce Cardigan's Napier.
The car slid over to the gate and stopped at the sight of the slim white figure running down the garden walk.
“Is Mr. Cardigan hurt?” she demanded in an agony of suspense.
George Sea Otter grunted contemptuously. “Nobody hurt 'cept the Black Minorca. I am taking him to your company hospital, miss. He tried to shoot my boss, so I shoot him myself once through the leg. Now my boss says: 'Take him to the Laguna Grande hospital, George.' Me, I would drop this greaser in the bay if I was the boss.”
She laughed hysterically. “On your way back from the hospital stop and pick me up, George,” she ordered. “This senseless feud has gone far enough. I must stop it--at once.”
He touched his broad hat, and she returned to the house to dress.
Meanwhile Colonel Pennington had reached the crossing once more, simultaneously with the arrival of Sam Perkins, the chief of police, accompanied by two automobiles crammed with patrolmen. Perkins strutted up to Bryce Cardigan and Buck Ogilvy.
“What's the meaning of all this row, Mr. Cardigan?” he demanded.
“Something has slipped, Sam,” Bryce retorted pleasantly. “You've been calling me Bryce for the past twenty years, and now you're mistering me! The meaning of this row, you ask?” Bryce continued. “Well, I'm engaged in making a jump-crossing of Colonel Pennington's tracks, under a temporary franchise granted me by the city of Sequoia. Here's the franchise.” And he thrust the document under the police chief's nose.
“This is the first I've heard about any franchise,” Sam Perkins replied suspiciously. “Seems to me you been mighty secret about this job. How do I know this ain't a forgery?”
“Call up the mayor and ask him,” Bryce suggested.
“I'll do that,” quoth Mr. Perkins ponderously. “And in the meantime, don't do any more digging or rail-cutting.” He hurried away to his automobile, leaving a lieutenant in charge of the squad.
“Also in the meantime, young man,” Colonel Pennington announced, “you will pardon me if I take possession of my locomotive and flat-cars. I observe you have finished unloading those rails.”