THE OCTOPUS A Story of California by Frank Norris ... - Pink Monkey

As Annixter's team trotted through the central portion of the
town, young Vacca pointed to a denser and larger crowd around the
rear entrance of the City Hall. Fully twenty saddle horses were
tied to the iron rail underneath the scant, half-grown trees near
by, and as Annixter and Hilma drove by, the crowd parted and a
dozen men with revolvers on their hips pushed their way to the
curbstone, and, mounting their horses, rode away at a gallop.
"It's the posse," said young Vacca.
Outside the town limits the ground was level. There was nothing
to obstruct the view, and to the north, in the direction of
Osterman's ranch, Vacca made out another party of horsemen,
galloping eastward, and beyond these still another.
"There're the other posses," he announced. "That further one is
Archie Moore's. He's the sheriff. He came down from Visalia on
a special engine this morning."
When the team turned into the driveway to the ranch house, Hilma
uttered a little cry, clasping her hands joyfully. The house was
one glitter of new white paint, the driveway had been freshly
gravelled, the flower-beds replenished. Mrs. Vacca and her
daughter, who had been busy putting on the finishing touches,
came to the door to welcome them.
"What's this case here?" asked Annixter, when, after helping his
wife from the carry-all, his eye fell upon a wooden box of some
three by five feet that stood on the porch and bore the red
Wells-Fargo label.
"It came here last night, addressed to you, sir," exclaimed Mrs.
Vacca. "We were sure it wasn't any of your furniture, so we
didn't open it."
"Oh, maybe it's a wedding present," exclaimed Hilma, her eyes
sparkling.
"Well, maybe it is," returned her husband. "Here, m' son, help
me in with this."
Annixter and young Vacca bore the case into the sitting-room of
the house, and Annixter, hammer in hand, attacked it vigorously.
Vacca discreetly withdrew on signal from his mother, closing the
door after him. Annixter and his wife were left alone.