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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11093-0.txt b/11093-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c7be22 --- /dev/null +++ b/11093-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10094 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11093 *** + +TRAILIN'! + +By Max Brand + + +1919 + + +To +ROBERT HOBART DAVIS +Maker of Books and Men + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + +I.------"LA-A-A-DIES AN' GEN'L'MUN" + +II.-----SPORTING CHANCE + +III.----SOCIAL SUICIDE + +IV.-----A SESSION OF CHAT + +V.------ANTHONY IS LEFT IN THE DARK + +VI.-----JOHN BARD + +VII.----BLUEBEARD'S ROOM + +VIII.---MARTY WILKES + +IX.-----"THIS PLACE FOR REST" + +X.------A BIT OF STALKING + +XI.-----THE QUEST BEGINS + +XII.----THE FIRST DAY + +XIII.---A TOUCH OF CRIMSON + +XIV.----LEMONADE + +XV.-----THE DARKNESS IN ELDARA + +XVI.----BLUFF + +XVII.---BUTCH RETURNS + +XVIII.--FOOLISH HABITS + +XIX.----THE CANDLE + +XX.-----JOAN + +XXI.----THE SWIMMING OF THE SAVERACK + +XXII.---DREW SMILES + +XXIII.--THE COMEDY SETTING + +XXIV.---"SAM'L HALL" + +XXV.----HAIR LIKE THE SUNSHINE + +XXVI.---"THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON" + +XXVII.--THE STAGE + +XXVIII.-SALLY BREAKS A MIRROR + +XXIX.---THE SHOW + +XXX.----THE LAMP + +XXXI.---NASH STARTS THE FINISH + +XXXII.--TO "APPREHEND" A MAN + +XXXIII.-NOTHING NEW + +XXXIV.--CRITICISM + +XXXV.---ABANDON + +XXXVI.--JERRY WOOD + +XXXVII.-"TODO ES PERDO" + +XXXVIII.-BACON + +XXXIX.--LEGAL MURDER + +XL.-----PARTNERS + +XLI.----SALLY WEEPS + + +_The characters, places, incidents and situations in this book are +imaginary and have no relation to any person, place or actual +happening_. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"LA-A-A-DIES AN' GEN'L'MUN" + +All through the exhibition the two sat unmoved; yet on the whole it was +the best Wild West show that ever stirred sawdust in Madison Square +Garden and it brought thunders of applause from the crowded house. Even +if the performance could not stir these two, at least the throng of +spectators should have drawn them, for all New York was there, from the +richest to the poorest; neither the combined audiences of a seven-day +race, a prize-fight, or a community singing festival would make such a +cosmopolitan assembly. + +All Manhattan came to look at the men who had lived and fought and +conquered under the limitless skies of the Far West, free men, wild +men--one of their shrill whoops banished distance and brought the +mountain desert into the very heart of the unromantic East. +Nevertheless from all these thrills these two men remained immune. + +To be sure the smaller tilted his head back when the horses first swept +in, and the larger leaned to watch when Diaz, the wizard with the +lariat, commenced to whirl his rope; but in both cases their interest +held no longer than if they had been old vaudevillians watching a series +of familiar acts dressed up with new names. + +The smaller, brown as if a thousand fierce suns and winds had tanned and +withered him, looked up at last to his burly companion with a faint +smile. + +"They're bringing on the cream now, Drew, but I'm going to spoil the +dessert." + +The other was a great, grey man whom age apparently had not weakened but +rather settled and hardened into an ironlike durability; the winds of +time or misfortune would have to break that stanch oak before it would +bend. + +He said: "We've half an hour before our train leaves. Can you play your +hand in that time?" + +"Easy. Look at 'em now--the greatest gang of liars that never threw a +diamond hitch! Ride? I've got a ten-year kid home that would laugh at +'em all. But I'll show 'em up. Want to know my little stunt?" + +"I'll wait and enjoy the surprise." + +The wild riders who provoked the scorn of the smaller man were now +gathering in the central space; a formidable crew, long of hair and +brilliant as to bandannas, while the announcer thundered through his +megaphone: + +"La-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun! You see before you the greatest band of +subduers and breakers of wild horses that ever rode the cattle ranges. +Death defying, reckless, and laughing at peril, they have never failed; +they have never pulled leather. I present 'Happy' Morgan!" + +Happy Morgan, yelling like one possessed of ten shrill-tongued demons, +burst on the gallop away from the others, and spurring his horse +cruelly, forced the animal to race, bucking and plunging, half way +around the arena and back to the group. This, then, was a type of the +dare-devil horse breaker of the Wild West? The cheers travelled in waves +around and around the house and rocked back and forth like water pitched +from side to side in a monstrous bowl. + +When the noise abated somewhat, "And this, la-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun, is +the peerless, cowpuncher, 'Bud Reeves.'" + +Bud at once imitated the example of Happy Morgan, and one after another +the five remaining riders followed suit. In the meantime a number of +prancing, kicking, savage-eyed horses were brought into the arena and to +these the master of ceremonies now turned his attention. + +"From the wildest regions of the range we have brought mustangs that +never have borne the weight of man. They fight for pleasure; they buck +by instinct. If you doubt it, step down and try 'em. One hundred dollars +to the man who sticks on the back of one of 'em--but we won't pay the +hospital bill!" + +He lowered his megaphone to enjoy the laughter, and the small man took +this opportunity to say: "Never borne the weight of a man! That chap in +the dress-suit, he tells one lie for pleasure and ten more from +instinct. Yep, he has his hosses beat. Never borne the weight of man! +Why, Drew, I can see the saddle-marks clear from here; I got a mind to +slip down there and pick up the easiest hundred bones that ever rolled +my way." + +He rose to make good his threat, but Drew cut in with: "Don't be a damn +fool, Werther. You aren't part of this show." + +"Well, I will be soon. Watch me! There goes Ananias on his second wind." + +The announcer was bellowing: "These man-killing mustangs will be ridden, +broken, beaten into submission in fair fight by the greatest set of +horse-breakers that ever wore spurs. They can ride anything that walks +on four feet and wears a skin; they can--" + +Werther sprang to his feet, made a funnel of his hand, and shouted: +"Yi-i-i-ip!" + +If he had set off a great quantity of red fire he could not more +effectively have drawn all eyes upon him. The weird, shrill yell cut the +ringmaster short, and a pleased murmur ran through the crowd. Of course, +this must be part of the show, but it was a pleasing variation. + +"Partner," continued Werther, brushing away the big hand of Drew which +would have pulled him down into his seat; "I've seen you bluff for two +nights hand running. There ain't no man can bluff all the world three +times straight." + +The ringmaster retorted in his great voice: "That sounds like good +poker. What's your game?" + +"Five hundred dollars on one card!" cried Werther, and he waved a +fluttering handful of greenbacks. "Five hundred dollars to any man of +your lot--or to any man in this house that can ride a real wild horse." + +"Where's your horse?" + +"Around the corner in a Twenty-sixth Street stable. I'll have him here +in five minutes." + +"Lead him on," cried the ringmaster, but his voice was not quite so +loud. + +Werther muttered to Drew: + +"Here's where I hand him the lemon that'll curdle his cream," and ran +out of the box and straight around the edge of the arena. New York, +murmuring and chuckling through the vast galleries of the Garden, +applauded the little man's flying coat-tails. + +He had not underestimated the time; in a little less than his five +minutes the doors at the end of the arena were thrown wide and Werther +reappeared. Behind him came two stalwarts leading between them a rangy +monster. Before the blast of lights and the murmurs of the throng the +big stallion reared and flung himself back, and the two who lead him +bore down with all their weight on the halter ropes. He literally walked +down the planks into the arena, a strange, half-comical, half-terrible +spectacle. New York burst into applause. It was a trained horse, of +course, but a horse capable of such training was worth applause. + +At that roar of sound, vague as the beat of waves along the shore, the +stallion lurched down on all fours and leaped ahead, but the two on the +halter ropes drove all their weight backward and checked the first +plunge. A bright-coloured scarf waved from a nearby box, and the +monster swerved away. So, twisting, plunging, rearing, he was worked +down the arena. As he came opposite a box in which sat a tall young man +in evening clothes the latter rose and shouted: "Bravo!" + +The fury of the stallion, searching on all sides for a vent but +distracted from one torment to another, centred suddenly on this slender +figure. He swerved and rushed for the barrier with ears flat back and +bloodshot eyes. There he reared and struck at the wood with his great +front hoofs; the boards splintered and shivered under the blows. + +As for the youth in the box, he remained quietly erect before this brute +rage. A fleck of red foam fell on the white front of his shirt. He drew +his handkerchief and wiped it calmly away, but a red stain remained. At +the same time the two who led the stallion pulled him back from the +barrier and he stood with head high, searching for a more convenient +victim. + +Deep silence spread over the arena; more hushed and more hushed it grew, +as if invisible blankets of soundlessness were dropping down over the +stirring masses; men glanced at each other with a vague surmise, knowing +that this was no part of the performance. The whole audience drew +forward to the edge of the seats and stared, first at the monstrous +horse, and next at the group of men who could "ride anything that walks +on four feet and wears a skin." + +Some of the women were already turning away their heads, for this was to +be a battle, not a game; but the vast majority of New York merely +watched and waited and smiled a slow, stiff-lipped smile. All the +surroundings were changed, the flaring electric lights, the vast roof, +the clothes of the multitude, but the throng of white faces was the same +as that pale host which looked down from the sides of the Coliseum when +the lions were loosed upon their victims. + +As for the wild riders from the cattle ranges, they drew into a close +group with the ringmaster between them and the gaunt stallion, almost as +if the fearless ones were seeking for protection. But the announcer +himself lost his almost invincible _sang-froid_; in all his matchless +vocabulary there were no sounding phrases ready for this occasion, and +little Werther strutted in the centre of the great arena, rising to his +opportunity. + +He imitated the ringmaster's phraseology. "La-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun, +the price has gone up. The 'death-defyin', dare-devils that laugh at +danger' ain't none too ready to ride my hoss. Maybe the price is too low +for 'em. It's raised. One thousand dollars--cash--for any man in +hearin' of me that'll ride my pet." + +There was a stir among the cattlemen, but still none of them moved +forward toward the great horse; and as if he sensed his victory he +raised and shook his ugly head and neighed. A mighty laugh answered that +challenge; this was a sort of "horse-humour" that great New York could +not overlook, and in that mirth even the big grey man, Drew, joined. The +laughter stopped with an amazing suddenness making the following silence +impressive as when a storm that has roared and howled about a house +falls mute, then all the dwellers in the house look to one another and +wait for the voice of the thunder. So all of New York that sat in the +long galleries of the Garden hushed its laughter and looked askance at +one another and waited. The big grey man rose and cursed softly. + +For the slender young fellow in evening dress at whom the stallion had +rushed a moment before was stripping off his coat, his vest, and rolling +up the stiff cuffs of his sleeves. Then he dropped a hand on the edge of +the box, vaulted lightly into the arena, and walked straight toward the +horse. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +SPORTING CHANCE + +It might easily have been made melodramatic by any hesitation as he +approached, but, with a businesslike directness, he went right up to the +men who held the fighting horse. + +He said: "Put a saddle on him, boys, and I'll try my hand." + +They could not answer at once, for Werther's "pet," as if he recognized +the newcomer, made a sudden lunge and was brought to a stop only after +he had dragged his sweating handlers around and around in a small +circle. Here Werther himself came running up, puffing with surprise. + +"Son," he said eagerly, "I'm not aiming to do you no harm. I was only +calling the bluff of those four-flushers." + +The slender youth finished rolling up his left sleeve and smiled down at +the other. + +"Put on the saddle," he said. + +Werther looked at him anxiously; then his eyes brightened with a +solution. He stepped closer and laid a hand on the other's arm. + +"Son, if you're broke and want to get the price of a few squares just +say the word and I'll fix you. I been busted myself in my own day, but +don't try your hand with my hoss. He ain't just a buckin' hoss; he's a +man-killer, lad. I'm tellin' you straight. And this floor ain't so soft +as the sawdust makes it look," he ended with a grin. + +The younger man considered the animal seriously. + +"I'm not broke; I've simply taken a fancy to your horse. If you don't +mind, I'd like to try him out. Seems too bad, in a way, for a brute like +that to put it over on ten thousand people without getting a run for his +money--a sporting chance, eh?" + +And he laughed with great good nature. + +"What's your name?" asked Werther, his small eyes growing round and +wide. + +"Anthony Woodbury." + +"Mine's Werther." + +They shook hands. + +"City raised?" + +"Yes." + +"Didn't know they came in this style east of the Rockies, Woodbury. I +hope I lose my thousand, but if there was any betting I'd stake ten to +one against you." + +In the meantime, some of the range-riders had thrown a coat over the +head of the stallion, and while he stood quivering with helpless rage +they flung a saddle on and drew the cinches taut. + +Anthony Woodbury was saying with a smile: "Just for the sake of the +game, I'll take you on for a few hundred, Mr. Werther, if you wish, but +I can't accept odds." + +Werther ran a finger under his collar apparently to facilitate +breathing. His eyes, roving wildly, wandered over the white, silent mass +of faces, and his glance picked out and lingered for a moment on the +big-shouldered figure of Drew, erect in his box. At last his glance came +back with an intent frown to Woodbury. Something in the keen eyes of the +lad raised a responsive flicker in his own. + +"Well, I'll be damned! Just a game, eh? Lad, no matter on what side of +the Rockies you were born, I know your breed and I won't lay a penny +against your money. There's the hoss saddled and there's the floor +you'll land on. Go to it--and God help you!" + +The other shook his shoulders back and stepped toward the horse with a +peculiarly unpleasant smile, like a pugilist coming out of his corner +toward an opponent of unknown prowess. + +He said: "Take off the halter." + +One of the men snapped viciously over his shoulder: "Climb on while the +climbing's good. Cut out the bluff, partner." + +The smile went out on the lips of Woodbury. He repeated: "Take off the +halter." + +They stared at him, but quickly began to fumble under the coat, +unfastening the buckle. It required a moment to work off the heavy +halter without giving the blinded animal a glimpse of the light; then +Woodbury caught the bridle reins firmly just beneath the chin of the +horse. With the other hand he took the stirrup strap and raised his +foot, but he seemed to change his mind about this matter. + +"Take off the blinder," he ordered. + +It was Werther who interposed this time with: "Look here, lad, I know +this hoss. The minute the blinder's off he'll up on his hind legs and +bash you into the floor with his forefeet." + +"Let him go," growled one of the cowboys. "He's goin' to hell making a +gallery play." + +But taking the matter into his own hands Woodbury snatched the coat from +the head of the stallion, which snorted and reared up, mouth agape ears +flattened back. There was a shout from the man, not a cry of dismay, but +a ringing battle yell like some ancient berserker seeing the first flash +of swords in the mêlée. He leaped forward, jerking down on the bridle +reins with all the force of his weight and his spring. The horse, caught +in mid-air, as it were, came floundering down on all fours again. Before +he could make another move, Woodbury caught the high horn of the saddle +and vaulted up to his seat. It was gallantly done and in response came a +great rustling from the multitude; there was not a spoken word, but +every man was on his feet. + +Perhaps what followed took their breaths and kept them speechless. The +first touch of his rider's weight sent the stallion mad, not blind with +fear as most horses go, but raging with a devilish cunning like that of +an insane man, a thing that made the blood run cold to watch. He stood a +moment shuddering, as if the strange truth were slowly dawning on his +brute mind; then he bolted straight for the barriers. Woodbury braced +himself and lunged back on the reins, but he might as well have tugged +at the mooring cable of a great ship; the bit was in the monster's +teeth. + +Then a whisper reached the rider, a universal hushing of drawn breath, +for the thousands were tasting the first thrill and terror of the +combat. They saw a picture of horse and man crushed against the barrier. +But there was no such stupid rage in the mind of the stallion. + +At the last moment he swerved and raced close beside the fence; some +projecting edge caught the trousers of Woodbury and ripped away the +stout cloth from hip to heel. He swung far to the other side and +wrenched back the reins. With stiff-braced legs the stallion slid to a +halt that flung his unbalanced rider forward along his neck. Before he +could straighten himself in the saddle, the horse roared and came down +on rigid forelegs, yet by a miracle Woodbury clung, sprawled down the +side of the monster, to be sure, but was not quite dismounted. + +Another pitch of the same nature would have freed the stallion from his +rider beyond doubt, but he elected to gallop full speed ahead the length +of the arena, and during that time, Woodbury, stunned though he was, +managed to drag himself back into the saddle. The end of the race was a +leap into the air that would have cleared a five-bar fence, and down +pitched the fighting horse on braced legs again. Woodbury's chin snapped +down against his breast as though he had been struck behind the head +with a heavy bar, but though his brain was stunned, the fighting +instinct remained strong in him and when the stallion reared and toppled +back the rider slipped from the saddle in the nick of time. + +Fourteen hundred pounds of raging horseflesh crashed into the sawdust; +he rolled like a cat to his feet, but at the same instant a flying +weight leaped through the air and landed in the saddle. The audience +awoke to sound--to a dull roar of noise; a thin trickle of blood ran +from Woodbury's mouth and it seemed that the mob knew it and was yelling +for a death. + +There followed a bewildering exhibition of such bucking that the +disgruntled cowboys forgot their shame and shouted with joy. Upon his +hind legs and then down on his forefeet with a sickening heartbreaking +jar the stallion rocked; now he bucked from side to side; now rose and +whirled about like a dancer; now toppled to the ground and twisted again +to his feet. + +Still the rider clung. His head rocked with the ceaseless jars; the +red-stained lips writhed back and showed the locked teeth. Yet, as if he +scorned the struggles of the stallion, he brought into play the heavy +quirt which had been handed him as he mounted. Over neck and shoulders +and tender flanks he whirled the lash; it was not intelligence fighting +brute strength, but one animal conquering another and rejoicing in the +battle. + +The horse responded, furiously he responded, but still the lash fell, +and the bucking grew more cunning, perhaps, but less violent. Yet to the +wildly cheering audience the fight seemed more dubious than ever. Then, +in the very centre of the arena, the stallion stopped in the midst of a +twisting course of bucking and stood with widely braced legs and fallen +head. Strength was left in him, but the cunning, savage mind knew +defeat. + +Once more the quirt whirled in the air and fell with a resounding crack, +but the stallion merely switched his tail and started forward at a +clumsy stumbling trot. The thunder of the host was too hoarse for +applause; they saw a victory and a defeat but what they had wanted was +blood, and a death. They had had a promise and a taste; now they +hungered for the reality. + +Woodbury slipped from the saddle and gave the reins to Werther. Already +a crowd was growing about them of the curious who had sprung over the +barriers and swarmed across the arena to see the conqueror, for had he +not vindicated unanswerably the strength of the East as compared with +that of the West? Boys shouted shrilly; men shouldered each other to +slap him on the back; but Werther merely held forth the handful of +greenbacks. The conqueror braced himself against the saddle with a +trembling hand and shook his head. + +"Not for me," he said, "I ought to pay you--ten times that much for the +sport--compared to this polo is nothing." + +"Ah," muttered those who overheard, "polo! That explains it!" + +"Then take the horse," said Werther, "because no one else could ride +him." + +"And now any one can ride him, so I don't want him," answered Woodbury. + +And Werther grinned. "You're right, boy. I'll give him to the iceman." + +The big grey man, William Drew, loomed over the heads of the little +crowd, and they gave way before him as water divides under the prow of a +ship; it was as if he cast a shadow which they feared before him. + +"Help me through this mob," said Woodbury to Werther, "and back to my +box. Devil take it, my overcoat won't cover that leg." + +Then on him also fell, as it seemed, the approaching shadow of the grey +man and he looked up with something of a start into the keen eyes of +Drew. + +"Son," said the big man, "you look sort of familiar to me. I'm asking +your pardon, but who was your mother?" + +The eyes of young Woodbury narrowed and the two stood considering each +other gravely for a long moment. + +"I never saw her," he said at last, and then turned with a frown to work +his way through the crowd and back to his box. + +The tall man hesitated a moment and then started in pursuit, but the mob +intervened. He turned back to Werther. + +"Did you get his name?" he asked. + +"Fine bit of riding he showed, eh?" cried the little man, "and turned +down my thousand as cool as you please. I tell you, Drew, there's some +flint in the Easterners after all!" + +"Damn the Easterners. What's his name?" + +"Woodbury. Anthony Woodbury." + +"Woodbury?" + +"What's wrong with that name?" + +"Nothing. Only I'm a bit surprised." + +And he frowned with a puzzled, wistful expression, staring straight +ahead like a man striving to solve a great riddle. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +SOCIAL SUICIDE + +At his box, Woodbury stopped only to huddle into his coat and overcoat +and pull his hat down over his eyes. Then he hurried on toward an exit, +but even this slight delay brought the reporters up with him. They had +scented news as the eagle sights prey far below, and then swooped down +on him. He continued his flight shaking off their harrying questions, +but they kept up the running fight and at the door one of them reached +his side with: "It's Mr. Woodbury of the Westfall Polo Club, son of Mr. +John Woodbury of Anson Place?" + +Anthony Woodbury groaned with dismay and clutched the grinning reporter +by the arm. + +"Come with me!" + +Prospects of a scoop of a sizable nature brightened the eyes of the +reporter. He followed in all haste, and the other news-gatherers, in +obedience to the exacting, unspoken laws of their craft, stood back and +followed the flight with grumbling envy. + +On Twenty-Sixth Street, a little from the corner of Madison Avenue, +stood a big touring car with the chauffeur waiting in the front seat. +There were still some followers from the Garden. + +Woodbury jumped into the back seat, drew the reporter after him, and +called: "Start ahead, Maclaren--drive anywhere, but get moving." + +"Now, sir," turning to the reporter as the engine commenced to hum, +"what's your name?" + +"Bantry." + +"Bantry? Glad to know you." + +He shook hands. + +"You know me?" + +"Certainly. I cover sports all the way from polo to golf. Anthony +Woodbury--Westfall Polo Club--then golf, tennis, trap shooting--" + +"Enough!" groaned the victim. "Now look here, Bantry, you have me dead +to rights--got me with the goods, so to speak, haven't you?" + +"It was a great bit of work; ought to make a first-page story." + +And the other groaned again. "I know--son of millionaire rides unbroken +horse in Wild West show--and all that sort of thing. But, good Lord, +man, think what it will mean to me?" + +"Nothing to be ashamed of, is it? Your father'll be proud of you." + +Woodbury looked at him sharply. + +"How do you know that?" + +"Any man would be." + +"But the notoriety, man! It would kill me with a lot of people as +thoroughly as if I'd put the muzzle of a gun in my mouth and pulled the +trigger." + +"H-m!" muttered the reporter, "sort of social suicide, all right. But +it's news, Mr. Woodbury, and the editor--" + +"Expects you to write as much as the rest of the papers print--and none +of the other reporters know me." + +"One or two of them might have." + +"But my dear fellow--won't you take a chance?" + +Bantry made a wry face. + +"Madison Square Garden," went on Woodbury bitterly. "Ten thousand people +looking on--gad, man, it's awful." + +"Why'd you do it, then?" + +"Couldn't help it, Bantry. By Jove, when that wicked devil of a horse +came at my box and I caught a glimpse of the red demon in his eyes--why, +man, I simply had to get down and try my luck. Ever play football?" + +"Yes, quite a while ago." + +"Then you know how it is when you're in the bleachers and the whistle +blows for the game to begin. That's the way it was with me. I wanted to +climb down into the field--and I did. Once started, I couldn't stop +until I'd made a complete ass of myself in the most spectacular style. +Now, Bantry, I appeal to you for the sake of your old football days, +don't show me up--keep my name quiet." + +"I'd like to--damned if I wouldn't--but--a scoop--" + +Anthony Woodbury considered his companion with a strange yearning. It +might have been to take him by the throat; it might have been some +gentler motive, but his hand stole at last toward an inner coat pocket. + +He said: "I know times are a bit lean now and then in your game, Bantry. +I wonder if you could use a bit of the long green? Just now I'm very +flush, and--" + +He produced a thickly stuffed bill-fold, but Bantry smiled and touched +Woodbury's arm. + +"Couldn't possibly, you know." + +He considered a moment and then, with a smile: "It's a bit awkward for +both of us, isn't it? Suppose I keep your name under my hat and you give +me a few little inside tips now and then on polo news, and that sort of +thing?" + +"Here's my hand on it. You've no idea what a load you take off my mind." + +"We've circled about and are pretty close to the Garden again. Could you +let me out here?" + +The car rolled to an easy stop and the reporter stepped out. + +"I'll forget everything you wish, Mr. Woodbury." + +"It's an honour to have met you, sir. Use me whenever you can. +Goodnight." + +To the chauffeur he said: "Home, and make it fast." + +They passed up Lexington with Maclaren "making it fast," so that the big +car was continually nosing its way around the machines in front with +much honking of the horn. At Fifty-Ninth Street they turned across to +the bridge and hummed softly across the black, shimmering waters of the +East River; by the time they reached Brooklyn a fine mist was beginning +to fall, blurring the wind-shield, and Maclaren slowed up perceptibly, +so that before they passed the heart of the city, Woodbury leaned +forward and said: "What's the matter, Maclaren?" + +"Wet streets--no chains--this wind-shield is pretty hard to see +through." + +"Stop her, then. I'll take the wheel the rest of the way. Want to travel +a bit to-night." + +The chauffeur, as if this exchange were something he had been expecting, +made no demur, and a moment later, with Woodbury at the wheel, the motor +began to hum again in a gradually increasing crescendo. Two or three +motor-police glanced after the car as it snapped about corners with an +ominous skid and straightened out, whining, on the new street; but in +each case, having made a comfortable number of arrests that day, they +had little heart for the pursuit of the grey monster through that chill +mist. + +Past Brooklyn, with a country road before them, Woodbury cut out the +muffler and the car sprang forward with a roar. A gust of increasing +wind whipped back to Maclaren, for the wind-shield had been opened so +that the driver need not look through the dripping glass and mingling +with the wet gale were snatches of singing. + +The chauffeur, partly in understanding and partly from anxiety, +apparently, caught the side of the seat in a firm grip and leaned +forward to break the jar when they struck rough places. Around an elbow +turn they went with one warning scream of the Klaxon, skidded horribly +at the sharp angle of the curve, and missed by inches a car from the +opposite direction. + +They swept on with the startled yell of the other party ringing after +them, drowned at once by the crackling of the exhaust. Maclaren raised a +furtive hand to wipe from his forehead a moisture which was not +altogether rain, but immediately grasped the side of the seat again. +Straight ahead the road swung up to meet a bridge and dropped sharply +away from it on the further side. Maclaren groaned but the sound was +lost in the increasing roar of the exhaust. + +They barely touched that bridge and shot off into space on the other +side like a hurdler clearing an obstacle. With a creak and a thud the +big car landed, reeled drunkenly, and straightened out in earnest, +Maclaren craned his head to see the speedometer, but had not the heart +to look; he began to curse softly, steadily. + +When the muffler went on again and the motor was reduced to a loud, +angry humming, Woodbury caught a few phrases of those solemn +imprecations. He grinned into the black heart of the night, streaked +with lines of grey where therein entered the halo of the headlights, and +then swung the car through an open, iron gate. The motor fell to a +drowsily contented murmur that blended with the cool swishing of the +tires on wet gravel. + +"Maclaren," said the other, as he stopped in front of the garage, "if +everyone was as good a passenger as you I'd enjoy motoring; but after +all, a car can't act up like a horse." He concluded gloomily: "There's +no fight in it." + +And he started toward the house, but Maclaren, staring after the +departing figure, muttered: "There's only one sort that's worse than a +damn fool, and that's a young one." + +It was through a door opening off the veranda that Anthony entered the +house, stealthily as a burglar, and with the same nervous apprehension. +Before him stretched a wide hall, dimly illumined by a single light +which splashed on the Italian table and went glimmering across the +floor. Across the hall was his destination--the broad balustraded +staircase, which swept grandly up to the second floor. Toward this he +tiptoed steadying himself with one hand against the wall. Almost to his +goal, he heard a muffled footfall and shrank against the wall with a +catlike agility, but, though the shadow fell steep and gloomy there, +luck was against him. + +A middle-aged servant of solemn port, serene with the twofold dignity of +double chin and bald head, paused at the table in his progress across +the room, and swept the apartment with the judicial eye of one who knows +that everything is as it should be but will not trust even the silence +of night. So that bland blue eye struck first on the faintly shining +top hat of Anthony, ran down his overcoat, and lingered in gloomy dismay +on the telltale streak of white where the trouser leg should have been. + +What he thought not even another Oedipus could have conjectured. The +young master very obviously did not wish to be observed, and in such +times Peters at could be blinder than the bat noon-day and more secret +than the River Styx. He turned away, unhurried, the fold of that double +chin a little more pronounced over the severe correctness of his collar. + +A very sibilant whisper pursued him. He stopped again, still without +haste, and turned not directly toward Anthony, but at a discreet angle, +with his eyes fixed firmly upon the ceiling. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +A SESSION OF CHAT + +The whisper grew distinct in words. + +"Peters, you old numskull, come here!" + +The approach of Peters was something like the sidewise waddle of a very +aged crab. He looked to the north, but his feet carried him to the east. +That he was much moved was attested by the colour which had mounted even +to the gleaming expanse of that nobly bald head. + +"Yes, Master Anthony--I mean Mr. Anthony?" + +He set his teeth at the _faux pas_. + +"Peters, look at me. Confound it, I haven't murdered any one. Are you +busy?" + +It required whole seconds for the eyes to wheel round upon Anthony, and +they were immediately debased from the telltale white of that leg to the +floor. + +"No, sir." + +"Then come up with me and help me change. Quick!" + +He turned and fled noiselessly up the great stairs, with Peters panting +behind. Anthony's overcoat was off before he had fairly entered his room +and his coat and vest flopped through the air as Peters shut the door. +Whatever the old servant lacked in agility he made up in certain +knowledge; as he laid out a fresh tuxedo, Anthony changed with the speed +of one pursued. The conversation was spasmodic to a degree. + +"Where's father? Waiting in the library?" + +"Yes. Reading, sir." + +"Had a mix-up--bully time, though--damn this collar! Peters, I wish +you'd been there--where's those trousers? Rub some of the crease out of +'em--they must look a _little_ worn." + +He stood at last completely dressed while Peters looked on with a +shining eye and a smile which in a younger man would have suggested many +things. + +"How is it? Will I pass father this way?" + +"I hope so, sir." + +"But you don't think so?" + +"It's hard to deceive him." + +"Confound it! Don't I know? Well, here's for a try. Soft-foot it down +stairs. I'll go after you and bang the door. Then you say good-evening +in a loud voice and I'll go into the library. How's that?" + +"Very good--your coat over your arm--so! Just ruffle your hair a bit, +sir--now you should do very nicely." + +At the door: "Go first, Peters--first, man, and hurry, but watch those +big feet of yours. If you make a noise on the stairs I'm done with you." + +The noiselessness of the descending feet was safe enough, but not so +safe was the chuckling of Peters for, though he fought against the +threatening explosion, it rumbled like the roll of approaching thunder. +In the hall below, Anthony opened and slammed the door. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Anthony," said Peters loudly, too loudly. + +"Evening, Peters. Where's father?" + +"In the library, sir. Shall I take your coat?" + +"I'll carry it up to my room when I go. That's all." + +He opened the door to the library and entered with a hope that his +father would not be facing him, but he found that John Woodbury was not +even reading. He sat by the big fire-place smoking a pipe which he now +removed slowly from his teeth. + +"Hello, Anthony." + +"Good-evening, sir." + +He rose to shake hands with his son: they might have been friends +meeting after a separation so long that they were compelled to be +formal, and as Anthony turned to lay down his hat and coat he knew that +the keen grey eyes studied him carefully from head to foot. + +"Take this chair." + +"Why, sir, wouldn't dream of disturbing you." + +"Not a bit. I want you to try it; just a trifle too narrow for me." + +John Woodbury rose and gestured his son to the chair he had been +occupying. Anthony hesitated, but then, like one who obeys first and +thinks afterward, seated himself as directed. + +"Mighty comfortable, sir." + +The big man stood with his hands clasped behind him, peering down under +shaggy, iron-grey brows. + +"I thought it would be. I designed it myself for you and I had a pretty +bad time getting it made." + +He stepped to one side. + +"Hits you pretty well under the knees, doesn't it? Yes, it's deeper than +most." + +"A perfect fit, father, and mighty thoughtful of you." + +"H-m," rumbled John Woodbury, and looked about like one who has +forgotten something. "What about a glass of Scotch?" + +"Nothing, thank you--I--in fact I'm not very strong for the stuff." + +The rough brows rose a trifle and fell. + +"No? But isn't it usual? Better have a go." + +Once more there was that slight touch of hesitancy, as if the son were +not quite sure of the father and wished to make every concession. + +"Certainly, if it'll make you easier." + +There was an instant softening of the hard lines of the elder Woodbury's +face, as though some favour of import had been done him. He touched a +bell-cord and lowered himself with a little grunt of relaxation into a +chair. The chair was stoutly built, but it groaned a little under the +weight of the mighty frame it received. He leaned back and in his face +was a light which came not altogether from the comfortable glow of the +fire. + +And when the servant appeared the big man ordered: "Scotch and seltzer +and one glass with a pitcher of ice." + +"Aren't you taking anything, sir?" asked Anthony. + +"Who, me? Yes, yes, of course. Why, let me see--bring me a pitcher of +beer." He added as the servant disappeared: "Never could get a taste for +Scotch, and rye doesn't seem to be--er--good form. Eh, Anthony?" + +"Nonsense," frowned the son, "haven't you a right to be comfortable in +your own house?" + +"Come, come!" rumbled John Woodbury. "A young fellow in your position +can't have a boor for a father, eh?" + +It was apparently an old argument between them, for Anthony stared +gloomily at the fire, making no attempt to reply; and he glanced up in +relief when the servant entered with the liquor. John Woodbury, however, +returned to the charge as soon as they were left alone again, saying: +"As a matter of fact, I'm about to set you up in an establishment of +your own in New York." He made a vastly inclusive gesture. "Everything +done up brown--old house--high-class interior decorator, to get you +started with a splash." + +"Are you tired of Long Island?" + +"_I'm_ not going to the city, but you will." + +"And my work?" + +"A gentleman of the class you'll be in can't callous his hands with +work. I spent my life making money; you can use your life throwing it +away--like a gentleman. But"--he reached out at this point and smashed a +burly fist into a palm hardly less hard--"but I'll be damned, Anthony, +if I'll let you stay here in Long Island wasting your time riding the +wildest horses you can get and practising with an infernal revolver. +What the devil do you mean by it?" + +"I don't know," said the other, musing. "Of course the days of revolvers +are past, but I love the feel of the butt against my palm--I love the +kick of the barrel tossing up--I love the balance; and when I have a +six-shooter in my hand, sir, I feel as if I had six lives. Odd, isn't +it?" He grew excited as he talked, his eyes gleaming with dancing points +of fire. "And I'll tell you this, sir: I'd rather be out in the country +where men still wear guns, where the sky isn't stained with filthy coal +smoke, where there's an horizon wide enough to breathe in, where there's +man-talk instead of this damned chatter over tea-cups--" + +"Stop!" cried John Woodbury, and leaned forward, "no matter what fool +ideas you get into your head--you're going to be a _gentleman_!" + +The swaying forward of that mighty body, the outward thrust of the jaws, +the ring of the voice, was like the crashing of an ax when armoured men +meet in battle. The flicker in the eyes of Anthony was the rapier which +swerves from the ax and then leaps at the heart. For a critical second +their glances crossed and then the habit of obedience conquered. + +"I suppose you know, sir." + +The father stared gloomily at the floor. + +"You're sort of mad, Anthony?" + +Perhaps there was nothing more typical of Anthony than that he never +frowned, no matter how angered he might be. Now the cold light passed +from his eyes. He rose and passed behind the chair of the elder man, +dropping a hand upon those massive shoulders. + +"Angry with myself, sir, that I should so nearly fall out with the +finest father that walks the earth." + +The eyes of the grey man half closed and a semblance of a smile touched +those stiff, stern lips; one of the great work-broken hands went up and +rested on the fingers of his son. + +"And there'll be no more of this infernal Western nonsense that you're +always reverting to? No more of this horse-and-gun-and-hell-bent-away +stuff?" + +"I suppose not," said Anthony heavily. + +"Well, Anthony, sit down and tell me about tonight." + +The son obeyed, and finally said, with difficulty: "I didn't go to the +Morrison supper." + +A sudden cloud of white rose from the bowl of Woodbury's pipe. + +"But I thought--" + +"That it was a big event? It was--a fine thing for me to get a bid to; +but I went to the Wild West show instead. Sir, I know it was childish, +but--I couldn't help it! I saw the posters; I thought of the +horse-breaking, the guns, the swing and snap and dash of galloping men, +the taint of sweating horses--and by God, sir, I _couldn't_ stay away! +Are you angry?" + +It was more than anger; it was almost fear that widened the eye of +Woodbury as he stared at his son. He said at last, controlling himself: +"But I have your word; you've given up the thought of this Western +life?" + +"Yes," answered Anthony, with a touch of despair, "I have given it up, I +suppose. But, oh, sir--" He stopped, hopeless. + +"And what else happened?" + +"Nothing to speak of." + +"After you come home you don't usually change your clothes merely for +the pleasure of sitting with me here." + +"Nothing escapes you, does it?" muttered Anthony. + +"In your set, Anthony, that's what they'd call an improper question." + +"I could ask you any number of questions, sir, for that matter." + +"Well?" + +"That room over there, for instance, which you always keep locked. Am I +never to have a look at it?" + +He indicated a door which opened from the library. + +"I hope not." + +"You say that with a good deal of feeling. But there's one thing more +that I have a right to hear about. My mother! Why do you never tell me +of her?" + +The big man stirred and the chair groaned beneath him. + +"Because it tortures me to speak of her, Anthony," said the husky voice. +"Tortures me, lad!" + +"I let the locked room go," said Anthony firmly, "but my mother--she is +different. Why, sir, I don't even know how she looked! Dad, it's my +right!" + +"Is it? By God, you have a right to know exactly what I choose to tell +you--no more!" + +He rose, strode across the room with ponderous steps, drew aside the +curtains which covered the view of the garden below, and stared for a +time into the night. When he turned he found that Anthony had risen--a +slender, erect figure. His voice was as quiet as his anger, but an +inward quality made it as thrilling as the hoarse boom of his father. + +"On that point I stick. I must know something about her." + +"Must?" + +"In spite of your anger. That locked room is yours; this house and +everything in it is yours; but my mother--she was as much mine as yours, +and I'll hear more about her--who she was, what she looked like, where +she lived--" + +The sharply indrawn breath of John Woodbury cut him short. + +"She died in giving birth to you, Anthony." + +"Dear God! She died for me?" + +And in the silence which came over the two men it seemed as if another +presence were in the room. John Woodbury stood at the fire-place with +bowed head, and Anthony shaded his eyes and stared at the floor until he +caught a glimpse of the other and went gently to him. + +He said: "I'm sorrier than a lot of words could tell you. Will you sit +down, sir, and let me tell you how I came to press home the question?" + +"If you want to have it that way." + +They resumed their chairs. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +ANTHONY IS LEFT IN THE DARK + +"It will explain why I changed my clothes after I came home. You see, +toward the end of the show a lot of the cowboys rode in. The ringmaster +was announcing that they could ride anything that walked on four feet +and wore a skin, when up jumped an oldish fellow in a box opposite mine +and shouted that he had a horse which none of them could mount. He +offered five hundred dollars to the man who could back him; and made it +good by going out of the building and coming back inside of five minutes +with two men leading a great stallion, the ugliest piece of horseflesh +I've ever seen. + +"As they worked the brute down the arena, it caught sight of my white +shirt, I suppose, for it made a dive at me, reared up, and smashed its +forehoofs against the barrier. By Jove, a regular maneater! Brought my +heart into my mouth to see the big devil raging, and I began to yearn to +get astride him and to--well, just fight to see which of us would come +out on top. You know?" + +The big man moistened his lips; he was strangely excited. + +"So you climbed into the arena and rode the horse?" + +"Exactly! I knew you'd understand! After I'd ridden the horse to a +standstill and climbed off, a good many people gathered around me. One +of them was a big man, about your size. In fact, now that I look back at +it, he was a good deal like you in more ways than one; looked as if time +had hardened him without making him brittle. He came to me and said: +'Excuse me, son, but you look sort of familiar to me. Mind telling me +who your mother was?' What could I answer to a--" + +A shadow fell across Anthony from the rising height of his father. As he +looked up he saw John Woodbury glance sharply, first toward the French +windows and then at the door of the secret room. + +"Was that all, Anthony?" + +"Yes, about all." + +"I want to be alone." + +The habit of automatic obedience made Anthony rise in spite of the +questions which were storming at his lips. + +"Good-night, sir." + +"Good-night, my boy." + +At the door the harsh voice of his father overtook him. + +"Before you leave the house again, see me, Anthony." + +"Yes, sir." + +He closed the door softly, as one deep in thought, and stood for a time +without moving. Because a man had asked him who his mother was, he was +under orders not to leave the house. While he stood, he heard a faint +click of a snapping lock within the library and knew that John Woodbury +had entered the secret room. + +In his own bedroom he undressed slowly and afterward stood for a long +time under the shower, rubbing himself down with the care of an athlete, +thumbing the soreness of the wild ride out of the lean, sinewy muscles, +for his was a made strength built up in the gymnasium and used on the +wrestling mat, the cinder path, and the football field. Drying himself +with a rough towel that whipped the pink into his skin, he looked down +over his corded, slender limbs, remembered the thick arms and Herculean +torso of John Woodbury, and wondered. + +He sat on the edge of his bed, wrapped in a bathrobe, and pondered. +Stroke by stroke he built the picture of that dead mother, like a +painter who jots down the first sketch of a large composition. John +Woodbury, vast, blond, grey-eyed, had given him few of his physical +traits. But then he had often heard that the son usually resembled the +mother. She must have been dark, slender, a frail wife for such a giant; +but perhaps she had a strength of spirit which made her his mate. + +As the picture drew out more clearly in the mind of Anthony, he turned +from the lighted room, threw open a window, and leaned out to breathe +the calm, damp air of night. + +It was infinitely cool, infinitely fresh. To his left a row of young +trees darted their slender tops at the sky like shadowy spearheads. The +smell of wet leaves and the wet grass beneath rose up to him. To the +right, for his own room stood in a wing of the mansion, the house +shouldered its way into the gloom, a solemn, grey shadow, netted in a +black tracery of climbing vine. In all the stretch of wall only two +windows were lighted, and those yellow squares, he knew, belonged to his +father. He had left the secret room, therefore. + +As he watched, a shadow brushed slowly across one of the drawn shades, +swept the second, and returned at once in the opposite direction. Back +and forth, back and forth, that shadow moved, and as his eye grew +accustomed to watching, he caught quite clearly the curve of the +shoulders and the forward droop of the head. + +It was not until then that the first alarm came to Anthony, for he knew +that the footsteps of the big grey man were dogged by fear. He could no +more conceive it than he could imagine noon and midnight in conjunction, +and feeling as guilty as if he had played the part of an eavesdropper he +turned away, snapped off the lights, and slipped into bed. + +The pleasant warmth of sleep would not come. In its place the images of +the day filed past him like the dance of figures on a motion picture +screen, and always, like the repeated entrance of the hero, the other +images grew small and dim. He saw again the burly stranger wading +through the crowd in the arena, shaking off the packed mob as the prow +of a stately ship shakes off the water, to either side. + +At length he started out of bed and glanced through the window. The +moving shadow still swept across the lighted shades of his father's +room; so he donned bathrobe and slippers and went down the long hall. At +the door he did not stop to knock, for he was too deeply concerned by +this time to pay any heed to convention. He grasped the knob and threw +the door wide open. What happened then was so sudden that he could not +be sure afterward what he had seen. He was certain that the door opened +on a lighted room, yet before he could step in the lights were snapped +out. + +He was staring into a deep void of night; and a silence came about him +like a whisper. Out of that silence he thought after a second that he +caught the sound of a hurried breathing, louder and louder, as though +someone were creeping upon him. He glanced over his shoulder in a slight +panic, but down the grey hall on either side there was nothing to be +seen. Once more he looked back into the solemn room, opened his lips to +speak, changed his mind, and closed the door again. + +Yet when he looked down again from his own room the lights shone once +more on the shades of his father's windows. Past them brushed the shadow +of the pacing man, up and down, up and down. He turned his eyes away to +the jagged tops of the young trees, to the glimpses of dark fields +beyond them, and inhaled the scent of the wet, green things. It seemed +to Anthony as if it all were hostile--as though the whole outdoors were +besieging this house. + +He caught the sway of the pacing figure whose shadow moved in regular +rhythm across the yellow shades. It entered his mind, clung there, and +finally he began to pace in the same cadence, up and down the room. With +every step he felt that he was entering deeper into the danger which +threatened John Woodbury. What danger? For answer to himself he stepped +to the windows and pulled down the shades. At least he could be alone. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +JOHN BARD + +There is no cleanser of the mind like a morning bath. The same cold, +whipping spray which calls up the pink blood, glowing through the marble +of the skin, drives the ache of sleep from the brain, and washes away at +once all the recorded thoughts of yesterday. So in place of a crowded +slate of wonders and doubts, Anthony bore down to the breakfast table a +willingness to take what the morning might bring and forget the night +before. + +John Woodbury was already there, helping himself from the covered +dishes, for the meal was served in the English style. There was the +usual "Good-morning, sir," "Good-morning, Anthony," and then they took +their places at the table. A cautious survey of the craglike face of his +father showed no traces of a sleepless night; but then, what could a +single night of unrest mean to that body of iron? + +He ventured, remembering the implied command to remain within the house +until further orders: "You asked me to speak to you, sir, before I left +the house. I'd rather like to take a ride this morning." + +And the imperturbable voice replied: "You've worn your horses out +lately. Better give them a day of rest." + +That was all, but it brought back to Anthony the thought of the shadow +which had swept ceaselessly across the yellow shades of his father's +room; and he settled down to a day of reading. The misty rain of the +night before had cleared the sky of its vapours, so he chose a nook in +the library where the bright spring sun shone full and the open fire +supplied the warmth. At lunch his father did not appear, and Peters +announced that the master was busy in his room with papers. The +afternoon repeated the morning, but with less unrest on the part of +Anthony. He was busy with _L'Assommoir_, and lost himself in the story +of downfall, surrounding himself with each unbeautiful detail. + +Lunch was repeated at dinner, for still John Woodbury seemed to be "busy +with papers in his room." A fear came to Anthony that he was to be +dodged indefinitely in this manner, deceived like a child, and kept in +the house until the silent drama was played out. But when he sat in the +library that evening his father came in and quietly drew up a chair by +the fire. The stage was ideally set for a confidence, but none was +forthcoming. The fire shook long, sleepy shadows through the room, the +glow of the two floor-lamps picked out two circles of light, and still +the elder man sat over his paper and would not speak. + +_L'Assommoir_ ended, and to rid himself of the grey tragedy, Anthony +looked up and through the windows toward the bright night which lay over +the gardens and terraces outside, for a full moon silvered all with a +flood of light. It was a waiting time, and into it the old-fashioned +Dutch clock in the corner sent its voice with a monotonous, softly +clanging toll of seconds, until Anthony forgot the moonlight over the +outside terraces to watch the gradual sway of the pendulum. A minute, +spent in this manner, was equal to an hour of ordinary time. Fascinated +by the sway of the pendulum he became conscious of the passage of +existence like a river broad and wide and shining which flowed on into +an eternity of chance and left him stationary on the banks. + +The voice which sounded at length was as dim and visionary as a part of +his waking dream. It was like one of those imagined calls from the +world of action to him who stood there, watching reality run past and +never stirring himself to take advantage of the thousand opportunities +for action. He would have discarded it for a part of his dream, had not +he seen John Woodbury raise his head sharply, heard the paper fall with +a dry crackling to the floor, and watched the square jaw of his father +jut out in that familiar way which meant danger. + +Once more, and this time it was unmistakably clear: "John Bard,--John +Bard, come out to me!" + +The big, grey man rose with widely staring eyes as if the name belonged +to him, and strode with a thumping step into the secret room. Hardly had +the clang of the closing door died out when he reappeared, fumbling at +his throat. Straight to Anthony he came and extended a key from which +dangled a piece of thin silver chain. It was the key to the secret room. + +He took it in both hands, like a young knight receiving the pommel of +his sword from him who has just given the accolade, and stared down at +it until the creaking of the opened French windows startled him to his +feet. + +"Wait!" he called, "I will go also!" + +The big man at the open window turned. + +"You will sit where you are now," said his harsh voice, "but if I don't +return you have the key to the room." + +His burly shoulders disappeared down the steps toward the garden, and +Anthony slipped back into his chair; yet for the first time in his life +he was dreaming of disobeying the command of John Woodbury. +Woodbury--yet the big man had risen automatically in answer to the name +of Bard. John Bard! It struck on his consciousness like two hammer blows +wrecking some fragile fabric; it jarred home like the timed blow of a +pugilist. Woodbury? There might be a thousand men capable of that name, +but there could only be one John Bard, and that was he who had +disappeared down the steps leading to the garden. Anthony swerved in his +chair and fastened his eyes on the Dutch clock. He gave himself five +minutes before he should move. + +The watched pot will never boil, and the minute hand of the big clock +dragged forward with deadly pauses from one black mark to the next. +Whispers rose in the room. Something fluttered the fallen newspaper as +if a ghost-hand grasped it but had not the strength to raise; and the +window rattled, with a sharp gust of wind. The last minute Anthony spent +at the open French window with a backward eye on the clock; then he +raced down the steps as though in his turn he answered a call out of the +night. + +The placid coolness of the open and the touch of moist, fresh air +against his forehead mocked him as he reached the garden, and there were +reassuring whispers from the trees he passed; yet he went on with a +long, easy stride like a runner starting a distance race. First he +skirted the row of poplars on the drive; then doubled back across the +meadow to his right and ran in a sharp-angling course across an orchard +of apple trees. Diverging from this direction, he circled at a quicker +pace toward the rear of the grounds and coursed like a wild deer over a +stretch of terraced lawns. On one of these low crests he stopped short +under the black shadow of an elm. + +In the smooth-shaven centre of the hollow before him, the same ground +over which he had run and played a thousand times in his childhood, he +saw two tall men standing back to back, like fighters come to a last +stand and facing a crowd of foes. They separated at once, striding out +with a measured step, and it was not until they moved that he caught the +glint of metal at the side of one of them and knew that one was the man +who had answered to the name of John Bard and the other was the grey +man who had spoken to him at the Garden the night before. He knew it not +so much by the testimony of his eyes at that dim distance as by a queer, +inner feeling that this must be so. There was also a sense of +familiarity about the whole thing, as if he were looking on something +which he had seen rehearsed a thousand times. + +As if they reached the end of an agreed course, the two whirled at the +same instant, the metal in their hands glinted in an upward semicircle, +and two guns barked hoarsely across the lawns. + +One of them stood with his gun still poised; the other leaned gradually +forward and toppled at full length on the grass. The victor strode out +toward the fallen, but hearing the wild yell of Anthony he stopped, +turned his head, and then fled into the grove of trees which topped the +next rise of ground. After him, running as he had never before raced, +went Anthony; his hand, as he sprinted, already tensed for the coming +battle; two hundred yards at the most and he would reach the lumbering +figure which had plunged into the night of the trees; but a call reached +him as sharp as the crack of the guns a moment before: "Anthony!" + +His head twitched to one side and he saw John Bard rising to his elbow. +His racing stride shortened choppily. + +"Anthony!" + +He could not choose but halt, groaning to give up the chase, and then +sped back to the fallen man. At his coming John Bard collapsed on the +grass, and when Anthony knelt beside him a voice in rough dialect began, +as if an enforced culture were brushed away and forgotten in the crisis: +"Anthony, there ain't no use in followin' him!" + +"Where did the bullet strike you? Quick!" + +"A place where it ain't no use to look. I know!" + +"Let me follow him; it's not too late--" + +The dying man struggled to one elbow. + +"Don't follow, lad, if you love me." + +"Who is he? Give me his name and--" + +"He's acted in the name of God. You have no right to hunt him down." + +"Then the law will do that." + +"Not the law. For God's sake swear--" + +"I'll swear anything. But now lie quiet; let me--" + +"Don't try. This couldn't end no other way for John Bard." + +"Is that your real name?" + +"Yes. Now listen, Anthony, for my time's short." + +He closed his eyes as if fighting silently for strength. + +Then: "When I was a lad like you, Anthony--" That was all. The massive +body relaxed; the head fell back into the dewy grass. Anthony pressed +his head against the breast of John Bard and it seemed to him that there +was still a faint pulse. With his pocket knife he ripped away the coat +from the great chest and then tore open the shirt. On the expanse of the +hairy chest there was one spot from which the purple blood welled; a +deadly place for a wound, and yet the bleeding showed that there must +still be life. + +He had no chance to bind the wound, for John Bard opened his eyes again +and said, as if in his dream he had still continued his tale to Anthony. + +"So that's all the story, lad. Do you forgive me?" + +"For what, sir? In God's name, for what?" + +"Damnation! Tell me; do you forgive John Bard?" + +He did not hear the answer, for he murmured: "Even Joan would forgive," +and died. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +BLUEBEARD'S ROOM + +As Anthony Woodbury, he knelt beside the dying. As Anthony Bard he rose +with the dead man in his arms a mighty burden even for his supple +strength; yet he went staggering up the slope, across a level terrace, +and back to the house. There it was Peters who answered his call, Peters +with a flabby face grown grey, but still the perfect servant who asked +no questions; together they bore the weight up the stairs and placed it +on John Bard's bed. While Anthony kept his steady vigil by the dead man, +it was Peters again who summoned the police and the useless doctor. + +To the old, uniformed sergeant, Anthony told a simple lie. His father +had gone for a walk through the grounds because the night was fine, and +Anthony was to join him there later, but when he arrived he found a +dying man who could not even explain the manner of his death. + +"Nothin' surprises me about a rich man's death," said the sergeant, +"not in these here days of anarchy. Got a place to write? I want to make +out my report." + +So Anthony led the grizzled fellow to the library and supplied him with +what he wished. The sergeant, saying good-bye, shook hands with a +lingering grip. + +"I knew John Woodbury," he said, "just by sight, but I'm here to tell +the world that you've lost a father who was just about all man. So long; +I'll be seein' you again." + +Left alone, Anthony Bard went to the secret room. The key fitted +smoothly into the lock. What the door opened upon was a little grey +apartment with an arched ceiling, a place devoid of a single article of +furniture save a straight-backed chair in the centre. Otherwise Anthony +saw three things-two pictures on the wall and a little box in the +corner. He went about his work very calmly, for here, he knew, was the +only light upon the past of John Bard, that past which had lain passive +so long and overwhelmed him on this night. + +First he took up the box, as being by far the most promising of the +three to give him what he wished to know; the name of the slayer, the +place where he could be found, and the cause of the slaying. It held +only two things; a piece of dirty silk and a small oil can; but the oil +can and the black smears on the silk made him look closer, closer until +the meaning struck him in a flare, as the glow of a lighted match +suddenly illumines, even if faintly, an entire room. + +In that box the revolver had lain, and here every day through all the +year, John Bard retired to clean and oil his gun, oil and reclean it, +keeping it ready for the crisis. That was why he went to the secret room +as soon as he heard the call from the garden, and carrying that gun with +him he had walked out, prepared. The time had come for which he had +waited a quarter of a century, knowing all that time that the day must +arrive. It was easy to understand now many an act of the big grim man; +but still there was no light upon the slayer. + +As he sat pondering he began to feel as if eyes were fastened upon him, +watching, waiting, mocking him, eyes from behind which stared until a +chill ran up his back. He jerked his head up, at last, and flashed a +glance over his shoulder. + +Indeed there was mockery in the smile with which she stared down to him +from her frame, down to him and past him as if she scorned in him all +men forever. It was not that which made Anthony close his eyes. He was +trying with all his might to conjure up his own image vividly. He +looked again, comparing his picture with this portrait on the wall, and +then he knew why the grey man at the Garden had said: "Son, who's your +mother?" For this was she into whose eyes he now stared. + +She had the same deep, dark eyes, the same black hair, the same rather +aquiline, thin face which her woman's eyes and lovely mouth made +beautiful, but otherwise the same. He was simply a copy of that head +hewn with a rough chisel--a sculptor's clay model rather than a smoothly +finished re-production. + +Ah, and the fine spirit of her, the buoyant, proud, scornful spirit! He +stretched out his arms to her, drew closer, smiling as if she could meet +and welcome his caress, and then remembered that this was a thing of +canvas and paint--a bright shadow; no more. + +To the second picture he turned with a deeper hope, but his heart fell +at once, for all he saw was an enlarged photograph, two mountains, +snow-topped in the distance, and in the foreground, first a mighty pine +with the branches lopped smoothly from the side as though some +tremendous ax had trimmed it, behind this a ranch-house, and farther +back the smooth waters of a lake. + +He turned away sadly and had reached the door when something made him +turn back and stand once more before the photograph. It was quite the +same, but it took on a different significance as he linked it with the +two other objects in the room, the picture of his mother and the +revolver box. He found himself searching among the forest for the +figures of two great grey men, equal in bulk, such Titans as that wild +country needed. + +West it must be, but where? North or South? West, and from the West +surely that grey man at the Garden had come, and from the West John Bard +himself. Those two mountains, spearing the sky with their sharp +horns--they would be the pole by which he steered his course. + +A strong purpose is to a man what an engine is to a ship. Suppose a hull +lies in the water, stanchly built, graceful in lines of strength and +speed, nosing at the wharf or tugging back on the mooring line, it may +be a fine piece of building but it cannot be much admired. But place an +engine in the hull and add to those fine lines the purr of a +motor--there is a sight which brings a smile to the lips and a light in +the eyes. Anthony had been like the unengined hulk, moored in gentle +waters with never the hope of a voyage to rough seas. Now that his +purpose came to him he was calmly eager, almost gay in the prospect of +the battle. + +On the highest hill of Anson Place in a tomb overlooking the waters of +the sound, they lowered the body of John Bard. + +Afterward Anthony Bard went back to the secret room of his father. The +old name of Anthony Woodbury he had abandoned; in fact, he felt almost +like dating a new existence from the moment when he heard the voice +calling out of the garden: "John Bard, come out to me!" If life was a +thread, that voice was the shears which snapped the trend of his life +and gave him a new beginning. As Anthony Bard he opened once more the +door of the chamber. + +He had replaced the revolver of John Bard in the box with the oiled +silk. Now he took it out again and shoved it into his back trouser +pocket, and then stood a long moment under the picture of the woman he +knew was his mother. As he stared he felt himself receding to youth, to +boyhood, to child days, finally to a helpless infant which that woman, +perhaps, had held and loved. In those dark, brooding eyes he strove to +read the mystery of his existence, but they remained as unriddled as the +free stars of heaven. + +He repeated to himself his new name, his real name: "Anthony Bard." It +seemed to make him a stranger in his own eyes. "Woodbury" had been a +name of culture; it suggested the air of a long descent. "Bard" was +terse, short, brutally abrupt, alive with possibilities of action. Those +possibilities he would never learn from the dead lips of his father. He +sought them from his mother, but only the painted mouth and the painted +smile answered him. + +He turned again to the picture of the house with the snow-topped +mountains in the distance. There surely, was the solution; somewhere in +the infinite reaches of the West. + +Finally he cut the picture from its frame and rolled it up. He felt that +in so doing he would carry with him an identification tag--a clue to +himself. With that clue in his travelling bag, he started for the city, +bought his ticket, and boarded a train for the West. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +MARTY WILKES + +The motion of the train, during those first two days gave Anthony Bard a +strange feeling that he was travelling from the present into the past. +He felt as if it was not miles that he placed behind him, but days, +weeks, months, years, that unrolled and carried him nearer and nearer to +the beginning of himself. He heard nothing about him; he saw nothing of +the territory which whirled past the window. They were already far West +before a man boarded the train and carried to Bard the whole atmosphere +of the mountain desert. + +He got on the train at a Nebraska station and Anthony sat up to watch, +for a man of importance does not need size in order to have a mien. +Napoleon struck awe through the most gallant of his hero marshals, and +even the porter treated this little brown man with a respect that was +ludicrous at first glimpse. + +He was so ugly that one smiled on glancing at him. His face, built on +the plan of a wedge, was extremely narrow in front, with a long, +high-bridged nose, slanting forehead, thin-lipped mouth, and a chin that +jutted out to a point, but going back all the lines flared out like a +reversed vista. A ridge of muscle crested each side of the broad jaws +and the ears flaunted out behind so that he seemed to have been built +for travelling through the wind. + +The same wind, perhaps, had blown the hair away from the upper part of +his forehead, leaving him quite bald half way back on his head, where a +veritable forest of hair began, and continued, growing thicker and +longer, until it brushed the collar of his coat behind. + +When he entered the car he stood eying his seat for a long moment like a +dog choosing the softest place on the floor before it lies down. Then he +took his place and sat with his hands folded in his lap, moveless, +speechless, with the little keen eyes straight before him--three hours +that state continued. Then he got up and Anthony followed him to the +diner. They sat at the same table. + +"The journey," said Anthony, "is pretty tiresome through monotonous +scenery like this." + +The little keen eyes surveyed him a moment before the man spoke. + +"There was buffalo on them plains once." + +If someone had said to an ignorant questioner, "This little knoll is +called Bunker Hill," he could not have been more abashed than was +Anthony, who glanced through the window at the dreary prospect, looked +back again, and found that the sharp eyes once more looked straight +ahead without the slightest light of triumph in his coup. Silence, +apparently, did not in the least abash this man. + +"Know a good deal about buffaloes?" + +"Yes." + +It was not the insulting curtness of one who wishes to be left in peace, +but simply a statement of bald fact. + +"Really?" queried Anthony. "I didn't think you were as old as that!" + +It appeared that this remark was worthy of no answer whatever. The +little man turned his attention to his order of ham and eggs, cut off +the first egg, manoeuvred it carefully into position on his knife, and +raised it toward a mouth that stretched to astonishing proportions; but +at the critical moment the egg slipped and flopped back on the plate. + +"Missed!" said Anthony. + +He couldn't help it; the ejaculation popped out of its own accord. The +other regarded him with grave displeasure. + +"If you had your bead drawed an' somebody jogged your arm jest as you +pulled the trigger, would you call it a miss?" + +"Excuse me. I've no doubt you're extremely accurate." + +"I ne'er miss," said the other, and proved it by disposing of the egg at +the next imposing mouthful. + +"I should like to know you. My name is Anthony Bard." + +"I'm Marty Wilkes. H'ware ye?" + +They shook hands. + +"Westerner, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"This is my furthest East." + +"Have a pleasant time?" + +A gesture indicated the barren, brown waste of prairie. + +"Too much civilization." + +"Really?" + +"Even the cattle got no fight in 'em." He added, "That sounds like I'm a +fighter. I ain't." + +"Till you're stirred up, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"Heat me up an' I'll burn. Soil wood." + +"You're pretty familiar with the Western country?" + +"I get around." + +"Perhaps you'd recognize this." + +He took a scroll from his breast pocket and unrolled the photograph of +the forest and the ranchhouse with the two mountains in the distance. +Wilkes considered it unperturbed. + +"Them are the Little Brothers." + +"Ah! Then all I have to do is to travel to the foot of the Little +Brothers?" + +"No, about sixty miles from 'em." "Impossible! Why, the mountains almost +overhang that house." + +Wilkes handed back the picture and resumed his eating without reply. It +was not a sullen resentment; it was hunger and a lack of curiosity. He +was not "heated up." + +"Any one," said Anthony, to lure the other on, "could see that." + +"Sure; any one with bad eyes." + +"But how can you tell it's sixty miles?" + +"I've been there." + +"Well, at least the big tree there and the ranchhouse will not be very +hard to find. But I suppose I'll have to travel in a circle around the +Little Brothers, keeping a sixty-mile radius?" + +"If you want to waste a pile of time. Yes." + +"I suppose you could lead me right to the spot?" + +"I could." + +"How?" + +"That's about fifty-five miles straight north-east of the Little +Brothers." + +"How the devil can you tell that, man?" + +"That ain't hard. They's a pretty steady north wind that blows in them +parts. It's cold and it's strong. Now when you been out there long +enough and get the idea that the only things that live is because God +loves 'em. Mostly it's jest plain sand and rock. The trees live because +they got protection from that north wind. Nature puts moss on 'em on the +north side to shelter 'em from that same wind. Look at that picture +close. You see that rough place on the side of that tree--jest a shadow +like the whiskers of a man that ain't shaved for a week? That's the +moss. Now if that's north, the rest is easy. That place is north-east of +the Little Brothers." + +"By Jove! how did you get such eyes?" + +"Used 'em." + +"The reason I'd like to find the house is because--" + +"Reasons ain't none too popular with me." + +"Well, you're pretty sure that your suggestion will take me to the +spot?" + +"I'm sure of nothing except my gun when the weather's hot." + +"Reasonably sure, however? The pine trees and the house--if I don't find +one I'll find the other." + +"The house'll be in ruins, probably." + +"Why?" + +"That picture was taken a long time ago." + +"Do you read the mind of a picture, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"No." + +"The tree, however, will be there." + +"No, that's chopped down." + +"That's going a bit too far. Do you mean to say you know that this +particular tree is down?" + +"That's first growth. All that country's been cut over. D'you think +they'd pass up a tree the size of that?" + +"It's going to be hard," said Anthony with a frown, "for me to get used +to the West." + +"Maybe not." + +"I can ride and shoot pretty well, but I don't know the people, I +haven't worn their clothes, and I can't talk their lingo." + +"The country's mostly rocks when it ain't ground; the people is pretty +generally men and women; the clothes they wear is cotton and wool, the +lingo they talk is English." + +It was like a paragraph out of some book of ultimate knowledge. He was +not entirely contented with his statement, however, for now he qualified +it as follows: "Maybe some of 'em don't talk good book English. Quite a +pile ain't had much eddication; in fact there ain't awful many like me. +But they can tell you how much you owe 'em an' they'll understand you +when you say you're hungry. What's your business? Excuse me; I don't +generally ask questions." + +"That's all right. You've probably caught the habit from me. I'm simply +going out to look about for excitement." + +"A feller gener'ly finds what he's lookin' for. Maybe you won't be +disappointed. I've knowed places on the range where excitement growed +like fruit on a tree. It was like that there manna in the Bible. You +didn't have to work none for it. You jest laid still an' it sort of +dropped in your mouth." + +He added with a sigh: "But them times ain't no more." + +"That's hard on me, eh?" + +"Don't start complainin' till you miss your feed. Things are gettin' +pretty crowded, but there's ways of gettin' elbow room--even at a bar." + +"And you really think there's nothing which distinguishes the Westerner +from the Easterner?" + +"Just the Western feeling, partner. Get that an' you'll be at home." + +"If you were a little further East and said that, people might be +inclined to smile a bit." + +"Partner, if they did, they wouldn't finish their smile. But I heard a +feller say once that the funny thing about men east and west of the +Rockies was that they was all--" + +He paused as if trying to remember. + +"Well?" + +"Americans, Mr. Bard." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"THIS PLACE FOR REST" + +As the white heat of midday passed and the shadows lengthened more and +more rapidly to the east, the sheep moved out from the shade and from +the tangle of the brush to feed in the open, and the dogs, which had +laid one on either side of the man, rose and trotted out to recommence +their vigil; but the shepherd did not change his position where he sat +cross-legged under the tree. + +Alternately he stroked the drooping moustache to the right and then to +the left, with a little twist each time, which turned the hair to a +sharp point in its furthest downward reach near his chin. To the right, +to the left, to the right, to the left, while his eyes, sad with a +perpetual mist, looked over the lake and far away to the white tops of +the Little Brothers, now growing blue with shadow. + +Finally with a brown forefinger he lifted the brush of moustache on his +upper lip, leaned a little, and spat. After that he leaned back with a +sigh of content; the brown juice had struck fairly and squarely on the +centre of the little stone which for the past two hours he had been +endeavouring vainly to hit. The wind had been against him. + +All was well. The spindling tops of the second-growth forest pointed +against the pale blue of a stainless sky, and through that clear air the +blatting of the most distant sheep sounded close, mingled with the light +clangour of the bells. But the perfect peace was broken rudely now by +the form of a horseman looming black and large against the eastern sky. +He trotted his horse down the slope, scattered a group of noisy sheep +from side to side before him, and drew rein before the shepherd. + +"Evening." + +"Evening, stranger." + +"Own this land?" + +"No; rent it." + +"Could I camp here?" + +The shepherd lifted his moustache again and spat; when he spoke his eyes +held steadily and sadly on the little stone, which he had missed again. + +"Can't think of nobody who'd stop you." + +"That your house over there? You rent that?" + +He pointed to a broken-backed ruin which stood on the point of land that +jutted out onto the waters of the lake, a crumbling structure slowly +blackening with time. + +"Nope." + +A shadow of a frown crossed the face of the stranger and was gone again +more quickly than a cloud shadow brushed over the window on a windy city +in March. + +"Well," he said, "this place looks pretty good to me. Ever fish those +streams?" + +"Don't eat fish." + +"I'll wager you're missing some first-class trout, though. By Jove, I'd +like to cast a couple of times over some of the pools I've passed in the +last hour! By the way, who owns that house over there?" + +"Same feller that owns this land." + +"That so? What's his name?" + +The other lifted his shaggy eyebrows and stared at the stranger. + +"Ain't been long around here, eh?" + +"No." + +"William Drew, he owns that house." + +"William Drew?" repeated the rider, as though imprinting the word on his +memory. "Is he home?" + +"Maybe." + +"I'll ride over and ask him if he can put me up." + +"Wait a minute. He may be home, but he lives on the other side of the +range." + +"Very far from here?" + +"Apiece." + +"How'll I know him when I see him?" + +"Big feller--grey--broad shoulders." + +"Ah!" murmured the other, and smiled as though the picture pleased him. +"I'll hunt him up and ask him if I can camp out in this house of his for +a while." + +"Well, that's your party." + +"Don't you think he'd let me?" + +"Maybe; but the house ain't lucky." + +"That so?" + +"Sure. There's a grave in front of it." + +"A grave? Whose?" + +"Dunno." + +"Well, it doesn't worry me. I'll drop over the hill and see Drew." + +"Maybe you'd better wait. You'll be passin' him on the road, like as +not." + +"How's that?" + +"He comes over here on Tuesdays once a month; to-morrow he's about due." + +"Good. In the meantime I can camp over there by that stream, eh?" + +"Don't know of nobody who'd stop you." + +"By the way, what brings Drew over here every month?" + +"Never asked him. I was brung up not to ask questions." + +The stranger accepted this subtle rebuke with such an open, infectious +laugh that the shepherd smiled in the very act of spitting at the stone, +with the result that he missed it by whole inches. + +"I'll answer some of the questions you haven't asked, then. My name is +Anthony Bard and I'm out here seeing the mountains and having a bully +time in general with my rod and gun." + +The sad eyes regarded him without interest, but Bard swung from his +horse and advanced with outstretched hand. + +"I may be about here for a few days and we might as well get acquainted, +eh? I'll promise to lay off the questions." + +"I'm Logan." + +"Glad to know you, Mr. Logan." + +"Same t'you. Don't happen to have no fine-cut about you?" + +"No. Sorry." + +"So'm I. Ran out an' now all I've got is plug. Kind of hard on the teeth +an' full of molasses." + +"I've some pipe tobacco, though, which might do." + +He produced a pouch which Logan opened, taking from it a generous pinch. + +"Looks kind of like fine-cut--smells kind of like the real thing"--here +he removed the quid from his mouth and introduced the great pinch of +tobacco--"an' I'll be damned if it don't taste a pile the same!" + +The misty eyes centred upon Bard and a light grew up in them. + +"Maybe you'd put a price on this tobacco, stranger?" + +"It's yours," said Bard, "to help you forget all the questions I've +asked." + +The shepherd acted at once lest the other might change his mind, dumping +the contents of the pouch into the breast pocket of his shirt. Afterward +his gaze sought the dim summits of the Little Brothers, and a sad, great +resolution grew up and hardened the lines of his sallow face. + +"You can camp with me if you want--partner." + +A cough, hastily summoned, covered Bard's smile. + +"Thanks awfully, but I'm used to camping alone--and rather like it that +way." + +"Which I'd say, the same goes here," responded the shepherd with +infinite relief, "I ain't got much use for company--away from a bar. But +I could show you a pretty neat spot for a camp, over there by the +river." + +"Thanks, but I'll explore for myself." + +He swung again into the saddle and trotted whistling down the slope +toward the creek which Logan had pointed out. But once fairly out of +sight in the second-growth forest, he veered sharply to the right, +touched his tough cattle-pony with the spurs, and headed at a racing +pace straight for the old ruined house. + +Even from a distance the house appeared unmistakably done for, but not +until he came close at hand could Bard appreciate the full extent of the +ruin. Every individual board appeared to be rotting and crumbling toward +the ground, awaiting the shake of one fierce gust of wind to disappear +in a cloud of mouldy dust. He left his horse with the reins hanging over +its head behind the house and entered by the back door. One step past +the threshold brought him misadventure, for his foot drove straight +through the rotten flooring and his leg disappeared up to the knee. + +After that he proceeded more cautiously, following the lines of the +beams on which the boards were nailed, but even these shook and groaned +under his weight. A whimsical fancy made him think of the fabled boat of +Charon which will float a thousand bodiless spirits over the Styx but +which sinks to the water-line with the weight of a single human being. + +So he passed forward like one in a fabric of spider-webs almost fearing +to breathe lest the whole house should puff away to shreds before him. +Half the boards, fallen from the ceiling, revealed the bare rafters +above; below there were ragged holes in the flooring. In one place a +limb, torn by lightning or wind from its overhanging tree, had crashed +through the corner of the roof and dropped straight through to the +ground. + +At last he reached a habitable room in the front of the house. It was a +new shell built inside the old wreck, with four stout corner-posts +supporting cross-beams, which in turn held up the mouldering roof. In +the centre was a rude table and on either side a bunk built against the +wall. Perhaps this was where Drew lived on the occasions of his visits +to the old ranchhouse. + +Out of the gloom of the place, Bard stepped with a shrug of the +shoulders, like one who shakes off the spell of a nightmare. He strode +through the doorway and took the slant, warm sun of the afternoon full +in his face. + +He found himself in front of the only spot on the entire premises which +showed the slightest care, the mound of a grave under the shelter of two +trees whose branches were interwoven overhead in a sort of impromptu +roof. From the surface of the mound all the weeds and grasses had been +carefully cleared away, and around its edge ran a path covered with +gravel and sand. It was a wellbeaten path with the mark of heels still +comparatively fresh upon it. + +The headstone itself bore not a vestige of moss, but time had cracked it +diagonally and the chiselled letters were weathered away. He studied it +with painful care, poring intently over each faint impression. He who +cared for the grave had apparently been troubled only to keep the stone +free from dirt--the lettering he must have known by heart. At length +Bard made out this inscription: + + + HERE SLEEPS + + JOAN + + WIFE OF WILLIAM DREW + + SHE CHOSE THIS PLACE FOR REST + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A BIT OF STALKING + +It seemed as if the peaceful afternoons of Logan were ended forever, for +the next day the scene of interruption was repeated under almost +identical circumstances, save that the tree under which the shepherd sat +was a little larger. Larger also was the man who rode over the brow of +the hill to the east. The most durable cattle-pony would have staggered +under the bulk of that rider, and therefore he rode a great, +patient-eyed bay, with shoulders worthy of shoving against a +work-collar; but the neck tapered down small behind a short head, and +the legs, for all their breadth at shoulder and hip, slipped away to +small hoofs, and ankles which sloped sharply to the rear, the sure sign +of the fine saddle-horse. + +Yet the strong horse was winded by the burden he bore, a mighty figure, +deep-chested, amply shouldered, an ideal cavalier for the days when +youths rode out in armour-plate to seek adventures and when men of +fifty still lifted the lance to run a "friendly" course or two in the +lists. + +At sight of him Logan so far bestirred himself as to uncoil his long +legs, rise, and stand with one shoulder propped against the tree. + +"Evening, Mr. Drew," he called. + +"Hello, Logan. How's everything with you?" + +He would have ridden on, but at Logan's reply he checked his horse to a +slow walk. + +"Busy. Lots of company lately, Mr. Drew." + +"Company?" + +"Yes, there's a young feller come along who says he wants to see you. +He's over there by the creek now, fishin' I think. I told him I'd holler +if I seen you, but I guess you wouldn't mind ridin' over that way +yourself." + +Drew brought his horse to a halt. + +"What does he want of me?" + +"Dunno. Something about wanting to hunt and fish on your streams here." + +"Why didn't you tell him he was welcome to do what he liked? Must be an +Easterner, Logan." + +"Wants to bunk in the old house, too. Seems sort of interested in it." + +"That so? What sort of a fellow is he?" + +"All right. A bit talky. Green; but he rides damn well, an' he smokes +good tobacco." + +His hand automatically rose and touched his breast pocket. + +"I'll go over to him," said Drew, and swung his horse to the left, but +only to come again to a halt. + +He called over his shoulder: "What sort of a looking fellow?" + +"Pretty keen--dark," answered Logan, slipping down into his original +position. "Thin face; black eyes." + +"Ah, yes," murmured Drew, and started at a trot for the creek. + +Once more he imitated the actions of Bard the day before, however, for +no sooner had the trees screened him thoroughly from the eyes of Logan +than he abandoned his direct course for the creek. He swung from the +saddle with an ease surprising in a man of such age and bulk and tossed +the reins over the head of the horse. + +Then he commenced a cautious stalking through the woods, silent as an +Indian, stealthy of foot, with eyes that glanced sharply in all +directions. Once a twig snapped under foot, and after that he remained +motionless through a long moment, shrinking against the trunk of a tree +and scanning the forest anxiously in all directions. At length he +ventured out again, grown doubly cautious. In this manner he worked his +way up the course of the stream, always keeping the waters just within +sight but never passing out on the banks, where the walking would have +been tenfold easier. So he came in sight of a figure far off through the +trees. + +If he had been cautious before, he became now as still as night. +Dropping to hands and knees, or crouching almost as prone, he moved from +the shadow of one tree to the next, now and then venturing a glance to +make sure that he was pursuing the right course, until he manoeuvred to +a point of vantage which commanded a clear view of Bard. + +The latter was fishing, with his back to Drew. Again and again he cast +his fly out under an overhanging limb which shadowed a deep pool. The +big grey man set his teeth and waited with the patience of a stalking +beast of prey, or a cat which will sit half the day waiting for the +mouse to show above the opening of its hole. + +Apparently there was a bite at length. The pole bent almost double and +the reel played back and forth rapidly as the fisher wore down his +victim. Finally he came close to the edge of the stream, dipped his net +into the water, and jerked it up at once bearing a twisting, shining +trout enwrapped in the meshes. Swinging about as he did so, Drew caught +his first full glimpse of Anthony's face, and knew him for the man who +had ridden the wild horse at Madison Square Garden those weeks before. + +Perhaps it was astonishment that moved the big man--surely it could not +have been fear--yet he knelt there behind the sheltering tree +grey-faced, wide, and blank of eye, as a man might look who dreamed and +awoke to see his vision standing before him in full sunlit life. What +his expression became then could not be said, for he buried his face in +his hands and his great body shook with a tremor. If this was not fear +it was something very like. + +And very like a man in fear he stole back among the trees as cautiously +as he had made his approach. Resuming his horse he rode straight for +Logan. + +"Couldn't find your young friend," he said, "along the creek." + +"Why," said Logan, "I can reach him with a holler from here, I think." + +"Never mind; just tell him that he's welcome to do what he pleases on +the place; and he can bunk down at the house if he wants to. I'd like to +know his name, though." + +"That's easy. Anthony Bard." + +"Ah," said Drew slowly, "Anthony Bard!" + +"That's it," nodded Logan, and fixed a curious eye upon the big grey +rider. + +As if to escape from that inquiring scrutiny, Drew wheeled his horse and +spurred at a sharp gallop up the hill, leaving Logan frowning behind. + +"No stay over night," muttered the shepherd. "No fooling about that +damned old shack of a house; what's wrong with Drew?" + +He answered himself, for all shepherds are forced by the bitter +loneliness of their work to talk with themselves. "The old boy's +worried. Damned if he isn't! I'll keep an eye on this Bard feller." + +And he loosened the revolver in its holster. + +He might have been even more concerned had he seen the redoubled speed +with which Drew galloped as soon as the hilltop was between him and +Logan. Straight on he pushed his horse, not exactly like one who fled +but rather more like one too busy with consuming thoughts to pay the +slightest heed to the welfare of his mount. It was a spent horse on +which he trotted late that night up to the big, yawning door of his +barn. + +"Where's Nash?" he asked of the man who took his horse. + +"Playing a game with the boys in the bunk-house, sir." + +So past the bunk-house Drew went on his way to his dwelling, knocked, +and threw open the door. Inside, a dozen men, seated at or standing +around a table, looked up. + +"Nash!" + +"Here." + +"On the jump, Nash. I'm in a hurry." + +There rose a man of a build much prized in pugilistic circles. In those +same circles he would have been described as a fellow with a fighting +face and a heavy-weight above the hips and a light-weight below--a +handsome fellow, except that his eyes were a little too small and his +lips a trifle too thin. He rose now in the midst of a general groan of +dismay, and scooped in a considerable stack of gold as well as several +bright piles of silver; he was undoubtedly taking the glory of the game +with him. + +"Is this square?" growled one of the men clenching his fist on the edge +of the table. + +The sardonic smile hardened on the lips of Nash as he answered: "Before +you've been here much longer, Pete, you'll find out that about +everything I do is square. Sorry to leave you, boys, before you're +broke, but orders is orders." + +"But one more hand first," pleaded Pete. + +"You poor fool," snarled Nash, "d'you think I'll take a chance on +keepin' _him_ waiting?" + +The last of his winnings passed with a melodious jingling into his +pockets and he went hurriedly out of the bunk-house and up to the main +building. There he found Drew in the room which the rancher used as an +office, and stood at the door hat in hand. + +"Come in; sit down," said "_him_." "Been taking the money from the boys +again, Steve? I thought I talked with you about that a month ago?" + +"It's this way, Mr. Drew," explained Nash, "with me stayin' away from +the cards is like a horse stayin' off its feed. Besides, I done the +square thing by the lot of those short-horns." + +"How's that?" + +"I showed 'em my hand." + +"Told them you were a professional gambler?" + +"Sure. I explained they didn't have no chance against me." + +"And of course that made them throw every cent they had against you?" + +"Maybe." + +"It can't go on, Nash." + +"Look here, Mr. Drew. I told 'em that I wasn't a gambler but just a +gold-digger." + +The big man could not restrain his smile, though it came like a shadow +of mirth rather than the sunlight. + +"After all, they might as well lose it to you as to someone else." + +"Sure," grinned Nash, "it keeps it in the family, eh?" + +"But one of these days, Steve, crooked cards will be the end of you." + +"I'm still pretty fast on the draw," said Steve sullenly. + +"All right. That's your business. Now I want you to listen to some of +mine." + +"Real work?" + +"Your own line." + +"That," said Nash, with a smile of infinite meaning, "sounds like the +dinner bell to me. Let her go, sir!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +THE QUEST BEGINS + +"You know the old place on the other side of the range?" + +"Like a book. I got pet names for all the trees." + +"There's a man there I want." + +"Logan?" + +"No. His name is Bard." + +"H-m! Any relation of the old bird that was partners with you back about +the year one?" + +"I want Anthony Bard brought here," said. Drew, entirely overlooking the +question. + +"Easy. I can make the trip in a buckboard and I'll dump him in the back +of it." + +"No. He's got to _ride_ here, understand?" + +"A dead man," said Nash calmly, "ain't much good on a hoss." + +"Listen to me," said Drew, his voice lowering to a sort of musical +thunder, "if you harm a hair of this lad's head I'll-I'll break you in +two with my own hands." + +And he made a significant gesture as if he were snapping a twig between +his fingers. Nash moistened his lips, then his square, powerful jaw +jutted out. + +"Which the general idea is me doing baby talk and sort of hypnotizing +this Bard feller into coming along?" + +"More than that. He's got to be brought here alive, untouched, and +placed in that chair tied so that he can't move hand or foot for ten +minutes while I talk." + +"Nice, quiet day you got planned for me, Mr. Drew." + +The grey man considered thoughtfully. + +"Now and then you've told me of a girl at Eldara--I think her name is +Sally Fortune?" + +"Right. She begins where the rest of the calico leaves off." + +"H-m! that sounds familiar, somehow. Well, Steve, you've said that if +you had a good start you think the girl would marry you." + +"I think she might." + +"She pretty fond of you?" + +"She knows that if I can't have her I'm fast enough to keep everyone +else away." + +"I see. A process of elimination with you as the eliminator. Rather an +odd courtship, Steve?" + +The cowpuncher grew deadly serious. + +"You see, I love her. There ain't no way of bucking out of that. So do +nine out of ten of all the boys that've seen her. Which one will she +pick? That's the question we all keep askin', because of all the +contrary, freckle-faced devils with the heart of a man an' the smile of +a woman, Sally has 'em all beat from the drop of the barrier. One feller +has money; another has looks; another has a funny line of talk. But I've +got the fastest gun. So Sally sees she's due for a complete outfit of +black mournin' if she marries another man while I'm alive; an' that +keeps her thinkin'. But if I had the price of a start in the world--why, +maybe she'd take a long look at me." + +"Would she call one thousand dollars in cash a start in the world--and +your job as foreman of my place, with twice the salary you have now?" + +Steve Nash wiped his forehead. + +He said huskily: "A joke along this line don't bring no laugh from me, +governor." + +"I mean it, Steve. Get Anthony Bard tied hand and foot into this house +so that I can talk to him safely for ten minutes, and you'll have +everything I promise. Perhaps more. But that depends." + +The blunt-fingered hand of Nash stole across the table. + +"If it's a go, shake, Mr. Drew." + +A mighty hand fell in his, and under the pressure he set his teeth. +Afterward he covertly moved his fingers and sighed with relief to see +that no permanent harm had been done. + +"Me speakin' personal, Mr. Drew, I'd of give a lot to seen you when you +was ridin' the range. This Bard--he'll be here before sunset to-morrow." + +"Don't jump to conclusions, Steve. I've an idea that before you count +your thousand you'll think that you've been underpaid. That's straight." + +"This Bard is something of a man?" + +"I can say that without stopping to think." + +"Texas?" + +"No. He's a tenderfoot, but he can ride a horse as if he was sewed to +the skin, and I've an idea that he can do other things up to the same +standard. If you can find two or three men who have silent tongues and +strong hands, you'd better take them along. I'll pay their wages, and +big ones. You can name your price." + +But Nash was frowning. + +"Now and then I talk to the cards a bit, Mr. Drew, and you'll hear +fellers say some pretty rough things about me, but I've never asked for +no odds against any man. I'm not going to start now." + +"You're a hard man, Steve, but so am I; and hard men are the kind I take +to. I know that you're the best foreman who ever rode this range and I +know that when you start things you generally finish them. All that I +ask is that you bring Bard to me in this house. The way you do it is +your own problem. Drunk or drugged, I don't care how, but get him here +unharmed. Understand?" + +"Mr. Drew, you can start figurin' what you want to say to him now. I'll +get him here--safe! And then Sally--" + +"If money will buy her you'll have me behind you when you bid." + +"When shall I start?" + +"Now." + +"So-long, then." + +He rose and passed hastily from the room, leaning forward from the hips +like a man who is making a start in a foot-race. + +Straight up the stairs he went to his room, for the foreman lived in the +big house of the rancher. There he took a quantity of equipment from a +closet and flung it on the bed. Over three selections he lingered long. + +The first was the cartridge belt, and he tried over several with +conscientious care until he found the one which received the cartridges +with the greatest ease. He could flip them out in the night, +automatically as a pianist fingers the scale in the dark. + +Next he examined lariats painfully, inch by inch, as though he were +going out to rope the stanchest steer that ever roamed the range. +Already he knew that those ropes were sound and true throughout, but he +took no chances now. One of the ropes he discarded because one or two +strands in it were, or might be, a trifle frayed. The others he took +alternately and whirled with a broad loop, standing in the centre of the +room. Of the set one was a little more supple, a little more durable, it +seemed. This he selected and coiled swiftly. + +Last of all he lingered--and longest--over his revolvers. Six in all, he +set them in a row along the bed and without delay threw out two to begin +with. Then he fingered the others, tried their weight and balance, +slipped cartridges into the cylinders and extracted them again, whirled +the cylinders, examined the minutest parts of the actions. + +They were all such guns as an expert would have turned over with shining +eyes, but finally he threw one aside into the discard; the cylinder +revolved just a little too hard. Another was abandoned after much +handling of the remaining three because to the delicate touch of Nash it +seemed that the weight of the barrel was a gram more than in the other +two; but after this selection it seemed that there was no possible +choice between the final two. + +So he stood in the centre of the room and went through a series of odd +gymnastics. Each gun in turn he placed in the holster and then jerked it +out, spinning it on the trigger guard around his second finger, while +his left hand shot diagonally across his body and "fanned" the hammer. +Still he could not make his choice, but he would not abandon the effort. +It was an old maxim with him that there is in all the world one gun +which is the best of all and with which even a novice can become a +"killer." + +He tried walking away, whirling as he made his draw, and levelling the +gun on the door-knob. Then without moving his hand, he lowered his head +and squinted down the sights. In each case the bead was drawn to a +centre shot. Last of all he weighed each gun; one seemed a trifle +lighter--the merest shade lighter than the other. This he slipped into +the holster and carried the rest of his apparatus back to the closet +from which he had taken it. + +Still the preparation had not ended. Filling his cartridge belt, every +cartridge was subject to a rigid inspection. A full half hour was wasted +in this manner. Wasted, because he rejected not one of the many he +examined. Yet he seemed happier after having made his selection, and +went down the stairs, humming softly. + +Out to the barn he went, lantern in hand. This time he made no +comparison of horses but went directly to an ugly-headed roan, long of +leg, vicious of eye, thin-shouldered, and with hips that slanted sharply +down. No one with a knowledge of fine horse-flesh could have looked on +this brute without aversion. It did not have even size in its favour. A +wild, free spirit, perhaps, might be the reason; but the animal stood +with hanging head and pendant lower lip. One eye was closed and the +other only half opened. A blind affection, then, made him go to this +horse first of all. + +No, his greeting was to jerk his knee sharply into the ribs of the roan, +which answered with a grunt and swung its head around with bared teeth, +like an angry dog. "Damn your eyes!" roared the hoarse voice of Steve +Nash, "stand still or I'll knock you for a goal!" + +The ears of the mustang flattened close to its neck and a devil of hate +came up in its eyes, but it stood quiet, while Nash went about at a +judicious distance and examined all the vital points. The hoofs were +sound, the backbone prominent, but not a high ridge from famine or much +hard riding, and the indomitable hate in the eyes of the mustang seemed +to please the cowpuncher. + +It was a struggle to bridle the beast, which was accomplished only by +grinding the points of his knuckles into a tender part of the jowl to +make the locked teeth open. + +In saddling, the knee came into play again, rapping the ribs of the +brute repeatedly before the wind, which swelled out the chest to false +proportions, was expelled in a sudden grunt, and the cinch whipped up +taut. After that Nash dodged the flying heels, chose his time, and +vaulted into the saddle. + +The mustang trotted quietly out of the barn. Perhaps he had had his fill +of bucking on that treacherous, slippery wooden floor, but once outside +he turned loose the full assortment of the cattle-pony's tricks. It was +only ten minutes, but while it lasted the cursing of Nash was loud and +steady, mixed with the crack of his murderous quirt against the roan's +flanks. The bucking ended as quickly as it had begun, and they started +at a long canter over the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +THE FIRST DAY + +Mile after mile of the rough trail fell behind him, and still the pony +shambled along at a loose trot or a swinging canter; the steep upgrades +it took at a steady jog and where the slopes pitched sharply down, it +wound among the rocks with a faultless sureness of foot. + +Certainly the choice of Nash was well made. An Eastern horse of blood +over a level course could have covered the same distance in half the +time, but it would have broken down after ten miles of that hard trail. + +Dawn came while they wound over the crest of the range, and with the sun +in their faces they took the downgrade. It was well into the morning +before Nash reached Logan. He forced from his eye the contempt which all +cattlemen feel for sheepherders. + +"I s'pose you're here askin' after Bard?" began Logan without the +slightest prelude. + +"Bard? Who's he?" + +Logan considered the other with a sardonic smile. + +"Maybe you been ridin' all night jest for fun?" + +"If you start usin' your tongue on me, Logan you'll wear out the snapper +on it. I'm on my way to the A Circle Y." + +"Listen; I'm all for old man Drew. You know that. Tell me what Bard has +on him?" + +"Never heard the name before. Did he rustle a couple of your sheep?" + +Logan went on patiently: "I knew something was wrong when Drew was here +yesterday but I didn't think it was as bad as this." + +"What did Drew do yesterday?" + +"Came up as usual to potter around the old house, I guess, but when he +heard about Bard bein' here he changed his mind sudden and went home." + +"That's damn queer. What sort of a lookin' feller is this Bard?" + +"I don't suppose you know, eh?" queried Logan ironically. "I don't +suppose the old man described him before you started, maybe?" + +"Logan, you poor old hornless maverick, d'you think I'm on somebody's +trail? Don't you know I've been through with that sort of game for a +hell of a while?" + +"When rocks turn into ham and eggs I'll trust you, Steve. I'll tell you +what I done to Bard, anyway. Yesterday, after he found that Drew had +been here and gone he seemed sort of upset; tried to keep it from me, +but I'm too much used to judgin' changes of weather to be fooled by any +tenderfoot that ever used school English. Then he hinted around about +learnin' the way to Eldara, because he knows that town is pretty close +to Drew's place, I guess. I told him; sure I did. He should of gone due +west, but I sent him south. There is a south trail, only it takes about +three days to get to Eldara." + +"Maybe you think that interests me. It don't." + +Logan overlooked this rejoinder, saying: "Is it his scalp you're after?" + +"Your ideas are like nest-eggs, Logan, an' you set over 'em like a hen. +They look like eggs; they feel like eggs; but they don't never hatch. +That's the way with your ideas. They look all right; they sound all +right; but they don't mean nothin'. So-long." + +But Logan merely chuckled wisely. He had been long on the range. + +As Nash turned his pony and trotted off in the direction of the A +Circle Y ranch, the sheepherder called after him: "What you say cuts +both ways, Steve. This feller Bard looks like a tenderfoot; he sounds +like a tenderfoot; but he ain't a tenderfoot." + +Feeling that this parting shot gave him the honours of the meeting, he +turned away whistling with such spirit that one of his dogs, +overhearing, stood still and gazed at his master with his head cocked +wisely to one side. + +His eastern course Nash pursued for a mile or more, and then swung sharp +to the south. He was weary, like his horse, and he made no attempt to +start a sudden burst of speed. He let the pony go on at the same +tireless jog, clinging like a bulldog to the trail. + +About midday he sighted a small house cuddled into a hollow of the hills +and made toward it. As he dismounted, a tow-headed, spindling boy +lounged out of the doorway and stood with his hands shoved carelessly +into his little overall pockets. + +"Hello, young feller." + +"'Lo, stranger." + +"What's the chance of bunking here for three or four hours and gettin' a +good feed for the hoss?" + +"Never better. Gimme the hoss; I'll put him up in the shed. Feed him +grain?" + +"No, you won't put him up. I'll tend to that." + +"Looks like a bad 'un." + +"That's it." + +"But a sure goer, eh?" + +"Yep." + +He led the pony to the shed, unsaddled him, and gave him a small feed. +The horse first rolled on the dirt floor and then started methodically +on his fodder. Having made sure that his mount was not "off his feed," +Nash rolled a cigarette and strolled back to the house with the boy. + +"Where's the folks?" he asked. + +"Ma's sick, a little, and didn't get up to-day. Pa's down to the corral, +cussing mad. But I can cook you up some chow." + +"All right son. I got a dollar here that'll buy you a pretty good store +knife." + +The boy flushed so red that by contrast his straw coloured hair seemed +positively white. + +"Maybe you want to pay me?" he suggested fiercely. "Maybe you think +we're squatters that run a hotel?" + +Recognizing the true Western breed even in this small edition, Nash +grinned. + +"Speakin' man to man, son, I didn't think that, but I thought I'd sort +of feel my way." + +"Which I'll say you're lucky you didn't try to feel your way with pa; +not the way he's feelin' now." + +In the shack of the house he placed the best chair for Nash and set +about frying ham and making coffee. This with crackers, formed the meal. +He watched Nash eat for a moment of solemn silence and then the foreman +looked up to catch a meditative chuckle from the youngster. + +"Let me in on the joke, son." + +"Nothin'. I was just thinkin' of pa." + +"What's he sore about? Come out short at poker lately?" + +"No; he lost a hoss. Ha, ha, ha!" + +He explained: "He's lost his only standin' joke, and now the laugh's on +pa!" + +Nash sipped his coffee and waited. On the mountain desert one does not +draw out a narrator with questions. + +"There was a feller come along early this mornin' on a lame hoss," the +story began. "He was a sure enough tenderfoot--leastways he looked it +an' he talked it, but he wasn't." + +The familiarity of this description made Steve sit up a trifle +straighter. + +"Was he a ringer?" + +"Maybe. I dunno. Pa meets him at the door and asks him in. What d'you +think this feller comes back with?" + +The boy paused to remember and then with twinkling eyes he mimicked: +"'That's very good of you, sir, but I'll only stop to make a trade with +you--this horse and some cash to boot for a durable mount out of your +corral. The brute has gone lame, you see.' + +"Pa waited and scratched his head while these here words sort of sunk +in. Then says very smooth: 'I'll let you take the best hoss I've got, +an' I won't ask much cash to boot.' + +"I begin wonderin' what pa was drivin' at, but I didn't say +nothin'--jest held myself together and waited. + +"'Look over there to the corral,' says pa, and pointed. 'They's a hoss +that ought to take you wherever you want to go. It's the best hoss I've +ever had.' + +"It was the best horse pa ever had, too. It was a piebald pinto called +Jo, after my cousin Josiah, who's jest a plain bad un and raises hell +when there's any excuse. The piebald, he didn't even need an excuse. You +see, he's one of them hosses that likes company. When he leaves the +corral he likes to have another hoss for a runnin' mate and he was jest +as tame as anything. I could ride him; anybody could ride him. But if +you took him outside the bars of the corral without company, first thing +he done was to see if one of the other hosses was comin' out to join +him. When he seen that he was all laid out to make a trip by himself he +jest nacherally started in to raise hell. Which Jo can raise more hell +for his size than any hoss I ever seen. + +"He's what you call an eddicated bucker. He don't fool around with no +pauses. He jest starts in and figgers out a situation and then he gets +busy slidin' the gent that's on him off'n the saddle. An' he always used +to win out. In fact, he was known for it all around these parts. He +begun nice and easy, but he worked up like a fiddler playin' a favourite +piece, and the end was the rider lyin' on the ground. + +"Whenever the boys around here wanted any excitement they used to come +over and try their hands with Jo. We used to keep a pile of arnica and +stuff like that around to rub them up with and tame down the bruises +after Jo laid 'em cold on the ground. There wasn't never anybody could +ride that hoss when he was started out alone. + +"Well, this tenderfoot, he looks over the hoss in the corral and says: +'That's a pretty fine mount, it seems to me. What do you want to boot?' + +"'Aw, twenty-five dollars is enough,' says pa. + +"'All right,' says the tenderfoot, 'here's the money.' + +"And he counts it out in pa's hand. + +"He says: 'What a little beauty! It would be a treat to see him work on +a polo field.' + +"Pa says: 'It'd'be a treat to see this hoss work anywhere.' + +"Then he steps on my foot to make me wipe the grin off'n my face. + +"Down goes the tenderfoot and takes his saddle and flops it on the +piebald pinto, and the piebald was jest as nice as milk. Then he leads +him out'n the corral and gets on. + +"First the pinto takes a look over his shoulder like he was waiting for +one of his pals among the hosses to come along, but he didn't see none. +Then the circus started. An' b'lieve me, it was some circus. Jo hadn't +had much action for some time, an' he must have used the wait thinkin' +up new ways of raisin' hell. + +"There ain't enough words in the Bible to describe what he done. Which +maybe you sort of gather that he had to keep on performin', because the +tenderfoot was still in the saddle. He was. An' he never pulled +leather. No, sir, he never touched the buckin' strap, but jest sat there +with his teeth set and his lips twistin' back--the same smile he had +when he got into the saddle. But pretty soon I s'pose Jo had a chance to +figure out that it didn't do him no particular harm to be alone. + +"The minute he seen that he stopped fightin' and started off at a gallop +the way the tenderfoot wanted him to go, which was over there. + +"'Damn my eyes!' says pa, an' couldn't do nuthin' but just stand there +repeatin' that with variations because with Jo gone there wouldn't be no +drawin' card to get the boys around the house no more. But you're +lookin' sort of sleepy, stranger?" + +"I am," answered Nash. + +"Well, if you'd seen that show you wouldn't be thinkin' of sleep. Not +for some time." + +"Maybe not, but the point is I didn't see it. D'you mind if I turn in on +that bunk over there?" + +"Help yourself," said the boy. "What time d'you want me to wake you up?" + +"Never mind; I wake up automatic. S'long, Bud." + +He stretched out on the blankets and was instantly asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +A TOUCH OF CRIMSON + +At the end of three hours he awoke as sharply as though an alarm were +clamouring at his ear. There was no elaborate preparation for renewed +activities. A single yawn and stretch and he was again on his feet. +Since the boy was not in sight he cooked himself an enormous meal, +devoured it, and went out to the mustang. + +The roan greeted him with a volley from both heels that narrowly missed +the head of Nash, but the cowpuncher merely smiled tolerantly. + +"Feelin' fit agin, eh, damn your soul?" he said genially, and picking up +a bit of board, fallen from the side of the shed, he smote the mustang +mightily along the ribs. The mustang, as if it recognized the touch of +the master, pricked up one ear and side-stepped. The brief rest had +filled it with all the old, vicious energy. + +For once more, as soon as they rode clear of the door, there ensued a +furious struggle between man and beast. The man won, as always, and the +roan, dropping both ears flat against its neck, trotted sullenly out +across the hills. + +In that monotony of landscape, one mile exactly like the other, no +landmarks to guide him, no trail to follow, however faintly worn, it was +strange to see the cowpuncher strike out through the vast distances of +the mountain-desert with as much confidence as if he were travelling on +a paved street in a city. He had not even a compass to direct him but he +seemed to know his way as surely as the birds know the untracked paths +of the air in the seasons of migration. + +Straight on through the afternoon and during the long evening he kept +his course at the same unvarying dog-trot until the flush of the sunset +faded to a stern grey and the purple hills in the distance turned blue +with shadows. Then, catching the glimmer of a light on a hillside, he +turned toward it to put up for the night. + +In answer to his call a big man with a lantern came to the door and +raised his light until it shone on a red, bald head and a portly figure. +His welcome was neither hearty nor cold; hospitality is expected in the +mountain-desert. So Nash put up his horse in the shed and came back to +the house. + +The meal was half over, but two girls immediately set a plate heaped +with fried potatoes and bacon and flanked by a mighty cup of jetblack +coffee on one side and a pile of yellow biscuits on the other. He nodded +to them, grunted by way of expressing thanks, and sat down to eat. + +Beside the tall father and the rosy-faced mother, the family consisted +of the two girls, one of them with her hair twisted severely close to +her head, wearing a man's blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up +to a pair of brown elbows. Evidently she was the boy of the family and +to her fell the duty of performing the innumerable chores of the ranch, +for her hands were thick with work and the tips of the fingers blunted. +Also she had that calm, self-satisfied eye which belongs to the +workingman who knows that he has earned his meal. + +Her sister monopolized all the beauty and the grace, not that she was +either very pretty or extremely graceful, but she was instinct with the +challenge of femininity like a rare scent. It lingered about her, it +enveloped her ways; it gave a light to her eyes and made her smile +exquisite. Her clothes were not of much finer material than her +sister's, but they were cut to fit, and a bow of crimson ribbon at her +throat was as effective in that environment as the most costly orchids +on an evening gown. + +She was armed in pride this night, talking only to her mother, and then +in monosyllables alone. At first it occurred to Steve that his coming +had made her self-conscious, but he soon discovered that her pride was +directed at the third man at the table. She at least maintained a +pretence of eating, but he made not even a sham, sitting miserably, his +mouth hard set, his eyes shadowed by a tremendous frown. At length he +shoved back his chair with such violence that the table trembled. + +"Well," he rumbled, "I guess this lets me out. S'long." + +And he strode heavily from the room; a moment later his cursing came +back to them as he rode into the night. + +"Takes it kind of hard, don't he?" said the father. + +And the mother murmured: "Poor Ralph!" + +"So you went an' done it?" said the mannish girl to her sister. + +"What of it?" snapped the other. + +"He's too good for you, that's what of it." + +"Girls!" exclaimed the mother anxiously. "Remember we got a guest!" + +"Oh," said she of the strong brown arms, "I guess we can't tell him +nothin'; I guess he had eyes to be seein' what's happened." She turned +calmly to Steve. + +"Lizzie turned down Ralph Boardman--poor feller!" + +"Sue!" cried the other girl. + +"Well, after you done it, are you ashamed to have it talked about? You +make me sore, I'll tell a man!" + +"That's enough, Sue," growled the father. + +"What's enough?" + +"We ain't goin' to have no more show about this. I've had my supper +spoiled by it already." + +"I say it's a rotten shame," broke out Sue, and she repeated, "Ralph's +too good for her. All because of a city dude--a tenderfoot!" + +In the extremity of her scorn her voice drawled in a harsh murmur. + +"Then take him yourself, if you can get him!" cried Lizzie. "I'm sure I +don't want him!" + +Their eyes blazed at each other across the table, and Lizzie, having +scored an unexpected point, struck again. + +"I think you've always had a sort of hankerin' after Ralph--oh, I've +seen your eyes rollin' at him." + +The other girl coloured hotly through her tan. + +"If I was fond of him I wouldn't be ashamed to let him know, you can +tell the world that. And I wouldn't keep him trottin' about like a +little pet dog till I got tired of him and give him up for the sake of a +greenhorn who"--her voice lowered to a spiteful hiss--"kissed you the +first time he even seen you!" + +In vain Lizzie fought for her control; her lip trembled and her voice +shook. + +"I hate you, Sue!" + +"Sue, ain't you ashamed of yourself?" pleaded the mother. + +"No, I ain't! Think of it; here's Ralph been sweet on Liz for two years +an' now she gives him the go-by for a skinny, affected dude like that +feller that was here. And he's forgot you already, Liz, the minute he +stopped laughing at you for bein' so easy." + +"Ma, are you goin' to let Sue talk like this--right before a stranger?" + +"Sue, you shut up!" commanded the father. + +"I don't see nobody that can make me," she said, surly as a grown boy. +"I can't make any more of a fool out of Liz than that tenderfoot made +her!" + +"Did he," asked Steve, "ride a piebald mustang?" + +"D'you know him?" breathed Lizzie, forgetting the tears of shame which +had been gathering in her eyes. + +"Nope. Jest heard a little about him along the road." + +"What's his name?" + +Then she coloured, even before Sue could say spitefully: "Didn't he even +have to tell you his name before he kissed you?" + +"He did! His name is--Tony!" + +"Tony!"--in deep disgust. "Well, he's dark enough to be a dago! Maybe +he's a foreign count, or something, Liz, and he'll take you back to live +in some castle or other." + +But the girl queried, in spite of this badinage: "Do you know his name?" + +"His name," said Nash, thinking that it could do no harm to betray as +much as this, "is Anthony Bard, I think." + +"And you don't know him?" + +"All I know is that the feller who used to own that piebald mustang is +pretty mad and cusses every time he thinks of him." + +"He didn't steal the hoss?" + +This with more bated breath than if the question had been: "He didn't +kill a man?" for indeed horse-stealing was the greater crime. + +Even Nash would not make such an accusation directly, and therefore he +fell back on an innuendo almost as deadly. + +"I dunno," he said non-committally, and shrugged his shoulders. + +With all his soul he was concentrating on the picture of the man who +conquered a fighting horse and flirted successfully with a pretty girl +the same day; each time riding on swiftly from his conquest. The clues +on this trail were surely thick enough, but they were of such a nature +that the pleasant mind of Steve grew more and more thoughtful. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +LEMONADE + +In fact, so thoughtful had Nash become, that he slept with extraordinary +lightness that night and was up at the first hint of day. Sue appeared +on the scene just in time to witness the last act of the usual drama of +bucking on the part of the roan, before it settled down to the +mechanical dog-trot with which it would wear out the ceaseless miles of +the mountain-desert all day and far into the night, if need be. + +Nash now swung more to the right, cutting across the hills, for he +presumed that by this time the tenderfoot must have gotten his bearings +and would head straight for Eldara. It was a stiff two day journey, now, +the whole first day's riding having been a worse than useless detour; so +the bulldog jaw set harder and harder, and the keen eyes squinted as if +to look into the dim future. + +Once each day, about noon, when the heat made even the desert and the +men of the desert drowsy, he allowed his imagination to roam freely, +counting the thousand dollars over and over again, and tasting again the +joys of a double salary. Yet even his hardy imagination rarely rose to +the height of Sally Fortune. That hour of dreaming, however, made the +day of labour almost pleasant. + +This time, in the very middle of his dream, he reached the cross-roads +saloon and general merchandise store of Flanders; so he banished his +visions with a compelling shrug of the shoulders and rode for it at a +gallop, a hot dryness growing in his throat at every stride. Quick +service he was sure to get, for there were not more than half a dozen +cattle-ponies standing in front of the little building with its rickety +walls guiltless of paint save for the one great sign inscribed with +uncertain letters. + +He swung from the saddle, tossed the reins over the head of the mustang, +made a stride forward--and then checked himself with a soft curse and +reached for his gun. + +For the door of the bar dashed open and down the steps rushed a tall man +with light yellow moustache, so long that it literally blew on either +side over his shoulders as he ran; in either hand he carried a +revolver---a two-gun man, fleeing, perhaps, from another murder. + +For Nash recognized in him a character notorious through a thousand +miles of the range, Sandy Ferguson, nicknamed by the colour of that +famous moustache, which was envied and dreaded so far and so wide. It +was not fear that made Nash halt, for otherwise he would have finished +the motion and whipped out his gun; but at least it was something +closely akin to fear. + +For that matter, there were unmistakable signs in Sandy himself of what +would have been called arrant terror in any other man. His face was so +bloodless that the pallor showed even through the leathery tan; one eye +stared wildly, the other being sheltered under a clumsy patch which +could not quite conceal the ugly bruise beneath. Under his great +moustache his lips were as puffed and swollen as the lips of a negro. + +Staggering in his haste, he whirled a few paces from the house and +turned, his guns levelled. At the same moment the door opened and the +perspiring figure of little fat Flanders appeared. Scorn and anger +rather than hate or any bloodlust appeared in his face. His right arm, +hanging loosely at his side, held a revolver, and he seemed to have the +greatest unconcern for the levelled weapons of the gunman. + +He made a gesture with that armed hand, and Sandy winced as though a +whiplash had flicked him. + +"Steady up, damn your eyes!" bellowed Flanders, "and put them guns away. +Put 'em up; hear me?" + +To the mortal astonishment of Nash, Sandy obeyed, keeping the while a +fascinated eye upon the little Dutchman. + +"Now climb your hoss and beat it, and if I ever find you in reach again, +I'll send my kid out to rope you and give you a hoss-whippin'." + +The gun fighter lost no time. A single leap carried him into his saddle +and he was off over the sand with a sharp rattle of the beating hoofs. + +"Well," breathed Nash, "I'll be hanged." + +"Sure you will," suggested Flanders, at once changing his frown for a +smile of somewhat professional good nature, as one who greeted an old +customer, "sure you will unless you come in an' have a drink on the +house. I want something myself to forget what I been doin'. I feel like +the dog-catcher." + +Steve, deeply meditative, strode into the room. + +"Partner," he said gravely to Flanders, "I've always prided myself on +having eyes a little better than the next one, but just now I guess I +must of been seein' double. Seemed to me that that was Sandy Ferguson +that you hot-footed out of that door--or has Sandy got a double?" + +"Nope," said the bartender, wiping the last of the perspiration from his +forehead, "that's Sandy, all right." + +"Then gimme a big drink. I need it." + +The bottle spun expertly across the bar, and the glasses tinkled after. + +"Funny about him, all right," nodded Flanders, "but then it's happened +the same way with others I could tell about. As long as he was winnin' +Sandy was the king of any roost. The minute he lost a fight he wasn't +worth so many pounds of salt pork. Take a hoss; a fine hoss is often +jest the same. Long as it wins nothin' can touch some of them blooded +boys. But let 'em go under the wire second, maybe jest because they's +packing twenty pounds too much weight, and they're never any good any +more. Any second-rater can lick 'em. I lost five hundred iron boys on a +hoss that laid down like that." + +"All of which means," suggested Nash, "that Sandy has been licked?" + +"Licked? No, he ain't been licked, but he's been plumb annihilated, +washed off the map, cleaned out, faded, rubbed into the dirt; if there +was some stronger way of puttin' it, I would. Only last night, at that, +but now look at him. A girl that never seen a man before could tell that +he wasn't any more dangerous now than if he was made of putty; but if +the fool keeps packin' them guns he's sure to get into trouble." + +He raised his glass. + +"So here's to the man that Sandy was and ain't no more." + +They drank solemnly. + +"Maybe you took the fall out of him yourself, Flanders?" + +"Nope. I ain't no fighter, Steve. You know that. The feller that downed +Sandy was--a tenderfoot. Yep, a greenhorn." + +"Ah-h-h," drawled Nash softly, "I thought so." + +"You did?" + +"Anyway, let's hear the story. Another drink--on me, Flanders." + +"It was like this. Along about evening of yesterday Sandy was in here +with a couple of other boys. He was pretty well lighted--the glow was +circulatin' promiscuous, in fact--when in comes a feller about your +height, Steve, but lighter. Goodlookin', thin face, big dark eyes like a +girl. He carried the signs of a long ride on him. Well, sir, he walks up +to the bar and says: 'Can you make me a very sour lemonade, Mr. +Bartender?' + +"I grabbed the edge of the bar and hung tight. + +"'A which?' says I. + +"'Lemonade, if you please.' + +"I rolled an eye at Sandy, who was standin' there with his jaw falling, +and then I got busy with lemons and the squeezer, but pretty soon +Ferguson walks up to the stranger. + +"'Are you English?' he asks. + +"I knew by his tone what was comin', so I slid the gun I keep behind the +bar closer and got prepared for a lot of damaged crockery. + +"'I?' says the tenderfoot. 'Why, no. What makes you ask?' + +"'Your damned funny way of talkin',' says Sandy. + +"'Oh,' says the greenhorn, nodding as if he was thinkin' this over and +discovering a little truth in it. 'I suppose the way I talk is a little +unusual.' + +"'A little rotten,' says Sandy. 'Did I hear you askin' for a lemonade?' + +"'You did.' + +"'Would I seem to be askin' too many questions,' says Sandy, terrible +polite, 'if I inquires if bar whisky ain't good enough for you?' + +"The tenderfoot, he stands there jest as easy as you an' me stand here +now, and he laughed. + +"He says: 'The bar whisky I've tasted around this country is not very +good for any one, unless, perhaps, after a snake has bitten you. Then it +works on the principle of poison fight poison, eh?' + +"Sandy says after a minute: 'I'm the most quietest, gentle, innercent +cowpuncher that ever rode the range, but I'd tell a man that it riles me +to hear good bar whisky insulted like this. Look at me! Do I look as if +whisky ain't good for a man?' + +"'Why,' says the tenderfoot, 'you look sort of funny to me.' + +"He said it as easy as if he was passin' the morning with Ferguson, but +I seen that it was the last straw with Sandy. He hefted out both guns +and trained 'em on the greenhorn. + +"I yelled: 'Sandy, for God's sake, don't be killin' a tenderfoot!' + +"'If whisky will kill him he's goin' to die,' says Sandy. 'Flanders, +pour out a drink of rye for this gent.' + +"I did it, though my hand was shaking a lot, and the chap takes the +glass and raises it polite, and looks at the colour of it. I thought he +was goin' to drink, and starts wipin' the sweat off'n my forehead. + +"But this chap, he sets down the glass and smiles over to Sandy. + +"'Listen,' he says, still grinnin', 'in the old days I suppose this +would have been a pretty bluff, but it won't work with me now. You want +me to drink this glass of very bad whisky, but I'm sure that you don't +want it badly enough to shoot me. + +"'There are many reasons. In the old days a man shot down another and +then rode off on his horse and was forgotten, but in these days the +telegraph is faster than any horse that was ever foaled. They'd be sure +to get you, sir, though you might dodge them for a while. And I believe +that for a crime such as you threaten, they have recently installed a +little electric chair which is a perfectly good inducer of sleep--in +fact, it is better than a cradle. Taking these things all into +consideration, I take it for granted that you are bluffing, my friend, +and one of my favourite occupations is calling a bluff. You look +dangerous, but I've an idea that you are as yellow as your moustache.' + +"Sandy, he sort of swelled up all over like a poisoned dog. + +"He says: 'I begin to see your style. You want a clean man-handlin', +which suits me uncommon well.' + +"With that, he lays down his guns, soft and careful, and puts up his +fists, and goes for the other gent. + +"He makes his pass, which should have sent the other gent into kingdom +come. But it didn't. No, sir, the tenderfoot, he seemed to evaporate. He +wasn't there when the fist of Ferguson come along. Ferguson, he checked +up short and wheeled around and charged again like a bull. And he missed +again. And so they kept on playin' a sort of a game of tag over the +place, the stranger jest side-steppin' like a prize-fighter, the +prettiest you ever seen, and not developin' when Sandy started on one of +his swings. + +"At last one of Sandy's fists grazed him on the shoulder and sort of +peeved him, it looked like. He ducks under Sandy's next punch, steps in, +and wallops Sandy over the eye--that punch didn't travel more'n six +inches. But it slammed Sandy down in a corner like he's been shot. + +"He was too surprised to be much hurt, though, and drags himself up to +his feet, makin' a pass at his pocket at the same time. Then he came +again, silent and thinkin' of blood, I s'pose, with a knife in his hand. + +"This time the tenderfoot didn't wait. He went in with a sort of hitch +step, like a dancer. Ferguson's knife carved the air beside the +tenderfoot's head, and then the skinny boy jerked up his right and his +left--one, two--into Sandy's mouth. Down he goes again--slumps down as +if all the bones in his body was busted--right down on his face. The +other feller grabs his shoulder and jerks him over on his back. + +"He stands lookin' down at him for a moment, and then he says, sort of +thoughtful: 'He isn't badly hurt, but I suppose I shouldn't have hit him +twice.' + +"Can you beat that, Steve? You can't! + +"When Sandy come to he got up to his feet, wobbling--seen his guns--went +over and scooped 'em up, with the eye of the tenderfoot on him all the +time--scooped 'em up--stood with 'em all poised--and so he backed out +through the door. It wasn't any pretty thing to see. The tenderfoot, he +turned to the bar again. + +"'If you don't mind,' he says, 'I think I'll switch my order and take +that whisky instead. I seem to need it.' + +"'Son!' says I, 'there ain't nothin' in the house you can't have for the +askin'. Try some of this!' + +"And I pulled out a bottle of my private stock--you know the stuff; I've +had it twenty-five years, and it was ten years old when I got it. That +ain't as much of a lie as it sounds. + +"He takes a glass of it and sips it, sort of suspicious, like a wolf +scentin' the wind for an elk in winter. Then his face lighted up like a +lantern had been flashed on it. You'd of thought that he was lookin' his +long-lost brother in the eye from the way he smiled at me. He holds the +glass up and lets the light come through it, showin' the little traces +and bubbles of oil. + +"'May I know your name?' he says. + +"It made me feel like Rockerbilt, hearin' him say that, in _that_ +special voice. + +"'Me,' says I, 'I'm Flanders.' + +"'It's an honour to know you, Mr. Flanders,' he says. 'My name is +Anthony Bard.' + +"We shook hands, and his grip was three fourths man, I'll tell the +world. + +"'Good liquor,' says he, 'is like a fine lady. Only a gentleman can +appreciate it. I drink to you, sir.' + +"So that's how Sandy Ferguson went under the sod. To-day? Well, I +couldn't let Ferguson stand in a barroom where a gentleman had been, +could I?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +THE DARKNESS IN ELDARA + +Even the stout roan grew weary during the third day, and when they +topped the last rise of hills, and looked down to darker shadows in +Eldara in the black heart of the hollow, the mustang stood with hanging +head, and one ear flopped forward. Cruel indeed had been the pace which +Nash maintained, yet they had never been able to overhaul the flying +piebald of Anthony Bard. + +As they trotted down the slope, Nash looked to his equipment, handled +his revolver, felt the strands of the lariat, and resting only his toes +in the stirrups, eased all his muscles to make sure that they were +uncramped from the long journey. He was fit; there was no doubt of that. + +Coming down the main street--for Eldara boasted no fewer than three +thoroughfares--the first houses which Nash passed showed no lights. As +far as he could see, the blinds were all drawn; not even the glimmer of +a candle showed, and the voices which he heard were muffled and low. + +He thought of plague or some other disaster which might have overtaken +the little village and wiped out nine tenths of the populace in a day. +Only such a thing could account for silence in Eldara. There should have +been bursts and roars of laughter here and there, and now and then a +harsh stream of cursing. There should have been clatter of kitchen tins; +there should have been neighing of horses; there should have been the +quiver and tingle of children's voices at play in the dusty streets. But +there was none of this. The silence was as thick and oppressive as the +unbroken dark of the night. Even Butler's saloon was closed! + +This, however, was something which he would not believe, no matter what +testimony his eyes gave him. He rode up to a shuttered window and kicked +it with his heel. + +Only the echoes of that racket replied to him from the interior of the +place. He swore, somewhat touched with awe, and kicked again. + +A faint voice called: "Who's there?" + +"Steve Nash. What the devil's happened to Eldara?" + +The boards of the shutter stirred, opened, so that the man within could +look out. + +"Is it Steve, honest?" + +"Damn it, Butler, don't you know my voice? What's turned Eldara into a +cemetery?" + +"Cemetery's right. 'Butch' Conklin and his gang are going to raid the +place to-night." + +"Butch Conklin?" + +And Nash whistled long and low. + +"But why the devil don't the boys get together if they know Butch is +coming with his gunmen?" + +"That's what they've done. Every able-bodied man in town is out in the +hills trying to surprise Conklin's gang before they hit town with their +guns going." + +Butler was a one-legged man, so Nash kept back the question which +naturally formed in his mind. + +"How do they know Conklin is coming? Who gave the tip?" + +"Conklin himself." + +"What? Has he been in town?" + +"Right. Came in roaring drunk." + +"Why'd they let him get away again?" + +"Because the sheriff's a bonehead and because our marshal is solid +ivory. That's why." + +"What happened?" + +"Butch came in drunk, as I was saying, which he generally is, but he +wasn't giving no trouble at all, and nobody felt particular called on to +cross him and ask questions. He was real sociable, in fact, and that's +how the mess was started." + +"Go on. I don't get your drift." + +"Everybody was treatin' Butch like he was the king of the earth and not +passin' out any backtalk, all except one tenderfoot----" + +But here a stream of tremendous profanity burst from Nash. It rose, it +rushed on, it seemed an exhaustless vocabulary built up by long practice +on mustangs and cattle. + +At length: "Is that damned fool in Eldara?" + +"D'you know him?" + +"No. Anyway, go on. What happened?" + +"I was sayin' that Butch was feelin' pretty sociable. It went all right +in the bars. He was in here and didn't do nothin' wrong. Even paid for +all the drinks for everybody in the house, which nobody could ask more +even from a white man. But then Butch got hungry and went up the street +to Sally Fortune's place." + +A snarl came from Nash. + +"Did they let that swine go in there?" + +"Who'd stop him? Would you?" + +"I'd try my damnedest." + +"Anyway, in he went and got the centre table and called for ten dollars' +worth of bacon and eggs--which there hasn't been an egg in Eldara this +week. Sally, she told him, not being afraid even of Butch. He got pretty +sore at that and said that it was a frame-up and everyone was ag'in' +him. But finally he allowed that if she'd sit down to the table and keep +him company he'd manage to make out on whatever her cook had ready to +eat." + +"And Sally done it?" groaned Nash. + +"Sure; it was like a dare--and you know Sally. She'd risk her whole +place any time for the sake of a bet." + +"I know it, but don't rub it in." + +"She fetched out a steak and served Butch as if he'd been a king and +then sat down beside him and started kiddin' him along, with all the +gang of us sittin' or standin' around and laughin' fit to bust, but not +loud for fear Butch would get annoyed. + +"Then two things come in together and spoiled the prettiest little party +that was ever started in Eldara. First was that player piano which Sally +got shipped in and paid God-knows-how-much for; the second was this +greenhorn I was tellin' you about." + +"Go on," said Nash, the little snarl coming back in his voice. "Tell me +how the tenderfoot walked up and kicked Butch out of the place." + +"Somebody been tellin' you?" + +"No; I just been readin' the mind of Eldara." + +"It was a nice play, though. This Bard--we found out later that was his +name--walks in, takes a table, and not being served none too quick, he +walks over and slips a nickel in the slot of the piano. Out she starts +with a piece of rippin' ragtime--you know how loud it plays? Butch, he +kept on talkin' for a minute, but couldn't hear himself think. Finally +he bellers: 'Who turned that damned tin-pan loose?' + +"This Bard walks up and bows. He says: 'Sir, I came here to find food, +and since I can't get service, I'll take music as a substitute.' + +"Them was the words he used, Steve, honest to God. Used them to Butch! + +"Well, Conklin was too flabbergasted to budge, and Bard, he leaned over +and says to Sally: 'This floor is fairly smooth. Suppose you and I dance +till I get a chance to eat?' + +"We didn't know whether to laugh or to cheer, but most of us compromised +by keeping an eye on Butch's gun. + +"Sally says, 'Sure I'll dance,' and gets up. + +"'Wait!' hollers Butch; 'are you leavin' me for this wall-eyed galoot?' + +"There ain't nothin' Sally loves more'n a fight--we all know that. But +this time I guess she took pity on the poor tenderfoot, or maybe she +jest didn't want to get her floor all messed up. + +"'Keep your hat on, Butch,' she says, 'all I want to do is to give him +some motherly advice.' + +"'If you're acting that part,' says Bard, calm as you please, 'I've got +to tell mother that she's been keeping some pretty bad company.' + +"'Some what?' bellers Butch, not believin' his ears. + +"And young Bard, he steps around the girl and stands over Butch. + +"'Bad company is what I said,' he repeats, 'but maybe I can be +convinced.' + +"'Easy,' says Butch, and reaches for his gun. + +"We all dived for the door, but me being held up on account of my +missing leg, I was slow an' couldn't help seein' what happened. Butch +was fast, but the young feller was faster. He had Butch by the wrist +before the gun came clear--just gave a little twist--and there he stood +with the gun in his hand pointin' into Butch's face, and Butch sittin' +there like a feller in a trance or wakin' up out of a bad dream. + +"Then he gets up, slow and dignified, though he had enough liquor in him +to float a ship. + +"'I been mobbed,' he says, 'it's easy to see that. I come here peaceful +and quiet, and here I been mobbed. But I'm comin' back, boys, and I +ain't comin' alone.' + +"There was our chance to get him, while he was walking out of that place +without a gun, but somehow nobody moved for him. He didn't look none too +easy, even without his shootin' irons. Out he goes into the night, and +we stood around starin' at each other. Everybody was upset, except Sally +and Bard. + +"He says: 'Miss Fortune, this is our dance, I think.' + +"'Excuse me,' says Sally, 'I almost forgot about it.' + +"And they started to dance to the piano, waltzin' around among the +tables; the rest of us lit out for home because we knew that Butch would +be on his way with his gang before we got very far under cover. But hey, +Steve, where you goin'?" + +"I'm going to get in on that dance," called Nash, and was gone at a +racing gallop down the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +BLUFF + +He found no dance in progress, however, but in the otherwise empty +eating place, which Sally owned and ran with her two capable hands and +the assistance of a cook, sat Sally herself dining at the same table +with the tenderfoot, the flirt, the horse-breaker, the tamer of +gun-fighters. + +Nash stood in the shadow of the doorway watching that lean, handsome +face with the suggestion of mockery in the eyes and the trace of +sternness around the thin lips. Not a formidable figure by any means, +but since his experiences of the past few days, Nash was grown extremely +thoughtful. + +What he finally thought he caught in this most unusual tenderfoot was a +certain alertness of a more or less hair-trigger variety. Even now as he +sat at ease at the table, one elbow resting lightly upon it, apparently +enwrapped in the converse of Sally Fortune, Nash had a consciousness +that the other might be on his feet and in the most distant part of the +room within a second. + +What he noted in the second instant of his observation was that Sally +was not at all loath to waste her time on the stranger. She was eating +with a truly formidable conventionality of manner, and a certain grace +with which she raised the ponderous coffee cup, made of crockery +guaranteed to resist all falls, struck awe through the heart of the +cowpuncher. She was bent on another conquest, beyond all doubt, and that +she would not make it never entered the thoughts of Nash. He set his +face to banish a natural scowl and advanced with a good-natured smile +into the room. + +"Hello!" he called. + +"It's old Steve!" sang out Sally, and whirling from her chair, she +advanced almost at a run to meet him, caught him by both hands, and led +him to a table next to that at which she had been sitting. + +It was as gracefully done as if she had been welcoming a brother, but +Nash, knowing Sally, understood perfectly that it was only a play to +impress the eye of Bard. Nevertheless he was forced to accept it in good +part. + +"My old pal, Steve Nash," said Sally, "and this is Mr. Anthony Bard." + +Just the faintest accent fell on the "Mr.," but it made Steve wince. He +rose and shook hands gravely with the tenderfoot. + +"I stopped at Butler's place down the street," he said, "and been +hearin' a pile about a little play you made a while ago. It was about +time for somebody to call old Butch's bluff." + +"Bluff?" cried Sally indignantly. + +"Bluff?" queried Bard, with a slight raising of the eyebrows. + +"Sure--bluff. Butch wasn't any more dangerous than a cat with trimmed +claws. But I guess you seen that?" + +He settled down easily in his chair just as Sally resumed her place +opposite Bard. + +"Steve," she said, with a quiet venom, "that bluff of his has been as +good as four-of-a-kind with you for a long time. I never seen you make +any play at Butch." + +He returned amiably: "Like to sit here and have a nice social chat, +Sally, but I got to be gettin' back to the ranch, and in the meantime, +I'm sure hungry." + +At the reminder of business a green light came in the fine blue eyes of +Sally. They were her only really fine features, for the nose tilted an +engaging trifle, the mouth was a little too generous, the chin so strong +that it gave, in moments of passivity, an air of sternness to her face. +That sternness was exaggerated as she rose, keeping her glare fixed upon +Nash; a thing impossible for him to bear, so he lowered his eyes and +engaged in rolling a cigarette. She turned back toward Bard. + +"Sorry I got to go--before I finished eating--but business is business." + +"And sometimes," suggested Bard, "a bore." + +It was an excellent opening for a quarrel, but Nash was remembering +religiously a certain thousand dollars, and also a gesture of William +Drew when he seemed to be breaking an imaginary twig. So he merely +lighted his cigarette and seemed to have heard nothing. + +"The whole town," he remarked casually, "seems scared stiff by this +Butch; but of course he ain't comin' back to-night." + +"I suppose," said the tenderfoot, after a cold pause, "that he will +not." + +But the coldness reacted like the most genial warmth upon Nash. He had +chosen a part detestable to him but necessary to his business. He must +be a "gabber" for the nonce, a free talker, a chatterer, who would cover +up all pauses. + +"Kind of strange to ride into a dark town like this," he began, "but I +could tell you a story about--" + +"Oh, Steve," called the voice of Sally from the kitchen. + +He rose and nodded to Bard. + +"'Scuse me, I'll be back in a minute." + +"Thanks," answered the other, with a somewhat grim emphasis. + +In the kitchen Sally spoke without prelude. "What deviltry are you up to +now, Steve?" + +"Me?" he repeated with eyes widened by innocence. "What d'you mean, +Sally?" + +"Don't four-flush me, Steve." + +"Is eating in your place deviltry?" + +"Am I blind?" she answered hotly. "Have I got spring-halt, maybe? You're +too polite, Steve; I can always tell when you're on the way to a little +bell of your own making, by the way you get sort of kind and warmed up. +What is it now?" + +"Kiss me, Sally, and I'll tell you why I came to town." + +She said with a touch of colour: "I'll see you--" and then changing +quickly, she slipped inside his ready arms with a smile and tilted up +her face. + +"Now what is it, Steve?" + +"This," he answered. + +"What d'you mean?" + +"You know me, Sally. I've worn out the other ways of raising hell, so I +thought I'd start a little by coming to Eldara to kiss you." + +Her open hand cracked sharply twice on his lean face and she was out of +his arms. He followed, laughing, but she armed herself with a red-hot +frying pan and defied him. + +"You ain't even a good sport, Steve. I'm done with you! Kiss you?" + +He said calmly: "I see the hell is startin', all right." + +But she changed at once, and smiled up to him. + +"I can't stay mad at you, Steve. I s'pose it's because of your nerve. I +want you to do something for me." + +"What?" + +"Is that a way to take it! I've asked you a favour, Steve." + +He said suspiciously: "It's got something to do with the tenderfoot in +the room out there?" + +It was a palpable hit, for she coloured sharply. Then she took the bull +by the horns. + +"What if it is?" + +"Sally, d'you mean to say you've fallen for that cheap line of lingo he +passes out?" + +"Steve, don't try to kid me." + +"Why, you know who he is, don't you?" + +"Sure; Anthony Bard." + +"And do you know who Anthony Bard is?" + +"Well?" she asked with some anxiety. + +"Well, if you don't know you can find out. That's what the last girl +done." + +She wavered, and then blinked her eyes as if she were resolved to shut +out the truth. + +"I asked you to do me a favour, Steve." + +"And I will. You know that." + +"I want you to see that Bard gets safe out of this town." + +"Sure. Nothing I'd rather do." + +She tilted her head a little to one side and regarded him wistfully. + +"Are you double-crossin' me, Steve?" + +"Why d'you suspect me? Haven't I said I'd do it?" + +"But you said it too easy." + +The gentleness died in her face. She said sternly: "If you do +double-cross me, you'll find I'm about as hard as any man on the range. +Get me?" + +"Shake." + +Their hands met. After all, he did not guarantee what would happen to +the tenderfoot after they were clear of the town. But perhaps this was a +distinction a little too fine for the downright mind of the girl. A sea +of troubles besieged the mind of Nash. + +And to let that sea subside he wandered back to the eating room and +found the tenderfoot finishing his coffee. The latter kept an eye of +frank suspicion upon him. So the silence held for a brooding moment, +until Bard asked: "D'you know the way to the ranch of William Drew?" + +It was a puzzler to Nash. Was not that his job, to go out and bring the +man to Drew's place? Here he was already on the way. He remembered just +in time that the manner of bringing was decidedly qualified. + +He said aloud: "The way? Sure; I work on Drew's place." + +"Really!" + +"Yep; foreman." + +"You don't happen to be going back that way to-night?" + +"Not all the way; part of it." + +"Mind if I went along?" + +"Nobody to keep you from it," said the cowpuncher without enthusiasm. + +"By the way, what sort of a man is Drew?" + +"Don't you know him?" + +"No. The reason I want to see him is because I want to get the right to +do some--er--fishing and hunting on a place of his on the other side of +the range." + +"The place with the old house on it; the place Logan is?" + +"Exactly. Also I wish to see Logan again. I've got several little things +I'd like to have him explain." + +"H-m!" grunted Nash without apparent interest. + +"And Drew?" + +"He's a big feller; big and grey." + +"Ah-h-h," said the other, and drew in his breath, as though he were +drinking. + +It seemed to Nash that he had never seen such an unpleasant smile. + +"You'll get what you want out of Drew. He's generous." + +"I hope so," nodded the other, with far-off eyes. "I've got a lot to ask +of him." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +BUTCH RETURNS + +He reminded Nash of some big puma cub warming itself at a hearth like a +common tabby cat, a tame puma thrusting out its claws and turning its +yellow eyes up to its owner--tame, but with infinite possibilities of +danger. For the information which Nash had given seemed to remove all +his distrust of the moment before and he became instantly genial, +pleasant. In fact, he voiced this sentiment with a disarming frankness +immediately. + +"Perhaps I've seemed to be carrying a chip on my shoulder, Mr. Nash. You +see, I'm not long in the West, and the people I've met seem to be ready +to fight first and ask questions afterward. So I've caught the habit, I +suppose." + +"Which a habit like that ain't uncommon. The graveyards are full of +fellers that had that habit and they're going to be fuller still of the +same kind." + +Here Sally entered, carrying the meal of the cowpuncher, arranged it, +and then sat on the edge of Bard's table, turning from one to the other +as a bird on a spray of leaves turns from sunlight to shadow and cannot +make a choice. + +"Bard," stated Nash, "is going out to the ranch with me to-night." + +"Long ride for to-night, isn't it?" + +"Yes, but we'll bunk on the way and finish up early in the morning." + +"Then you'll have a chance to teach him Western manners on the way, +Steve." + +"Manners?" queried the Easterner, smiling up to the girl. + +She turned, caught him beneath the chin with one hand, tilting his face, +and raised the lessoning forefinger of the other while she stared down +at him with a half frown and a half smile like a schoolteacher about to +discipline a recalcitrant boy. + +"Western manners," she said, "mean first not to doubt a man till he +tries to double-cross you, and not to trust him till he saves your life; +to keep your gun inside the leather till you're backed up against the +wall, and then to start shootin' as soon as the muzzle is past the +holster. Then the thing to remember is that the fast shootin' is fine, +but sure shootin' is a lot better. D'you get me?" + +"That's a fine sermon," smiled Bard, "but you're too young to make a +convincing preacher, Miss Fortune." + +"Misfortune," said the girl quickly, "don't have to be old to do a lot +of teachin'." + +She sat back and regarded him with something of a frown and with folded +arms. + +He said with a sudden earnestness: "You seem to take it for granted that +I'm due for a lot of trouble." + +But she shook her head gloomily. + +"I know what you're due for; I can see it in your eyes; I can hear it in +your way of talkin'. If you was to ride the range with a sheriff on one +side of you and a marshal on the other you couldn't help fallin' into +trouble." + +"As a fortune-teller," remarked Nash, "you'd make a good undertaker, +Sally." + +"Shut up, Steve. I've seen this bird in action and I know what I'm +talking about. When you coming back this way, Bard?" + +He said thoughtfully: "Perhaps to-morrow night--perhaps--" + +"It ought to be to-morrow night," she said pointedly, her eyes on Nash. + +The latter had pushed his chair back a trifle and sat now with downward +head and his right hand resting lightly on his thigh. Only the place in +which they sat was illumined by the two lamps, and the forward part of +the room, nearer the street, was a sea of shadows, wavering when the +wind stirred the flame in one of the lamps or sent it smoking up the +chimney. Sally and Bard sat with their backs to the door, and Nash half +facing it. + +"Steve," she said, with a sudden low tenseness of voice that sent a +chill up Bard's spinal cord, "Steve, what's wrong?" + +"This," answered the cowboy calmly, and whirling in his chair, his gun +flashed and exploded. + +They sprang up in time to see the bulky form of Butch Conklin rise out +of the shadows in the front part of the room with outstretched arms, +from one of which a revolver dropped clattering to the floor. Backward +he reeled as though a hand were pulling him from behind, and then +measured his length with a crash on the floor. + +Bard, standing erect, quite forgot to touch his weapon, but Sally had +produced a ponderous forty-five with mysterious speed and now crouched +behind a table with the gun poised. Nash, bending low, ran forward to +the fallen man. + +"Nicked, but not done for," he called. + +"Thank God!" cried Sally, and the two joined Nash about the prostrate +body. + +That bullet had had very certain intentions, but by a freak of chance +it had been deflected on the angle of the skull and merely ploughed a +bloody furrow through the mat of hair from forehead to the back of the +skull. He was stunned, but hardly more seriously hurt than if he had +been knocked down by a club. + +"I've an idea," said the Easterner calmly, "that I owe my life to you, +Mr. Nash." + +"Let that drop," answered the other. + +"A quarter of an inch lower," said the girl, who was examining the +wound, "and Butch would have kissed the world good-bye." + +Not till then did the full horror of the thing dawn on Bard. The girl +was no more excited than one of her Eastern cousins would have been over +a game of bridge, and the man in the most matter-of-fact manner, was +slipping another cartridge into the cylinder of the revolver, which he +then restored to the holster. + +It still seemed incredible that the man could have drawn his gun and +fired it in that flash of time. He recalled his adventure with Butch +earlier that evening and with Sandy Ferguson before; for the first time +he realized what he had done and a cold horror possessed him like the +man who has nerves to walk the tight rope across the chasm and faints +when he looks back on the gorge from the safety of the other side. The +girl took command. + +"Steve, run down to the marshal's office; Deputy Glendin is there." + +She took the wet cloth and made a deft bandage for the head of Conklin. +With his shaggy hair covered, and all his face sagging with lines of +weariness, the gun-fighter seemed no more than a middle-aged man asleep, +worn out by trouble. + +"Is there a doctor?" asked Bard anxiously. + +"That ain't a case for a doctor--look here; you're in a blue faint. What +is the matter?" + +"I don't know; I'm thinking of that quarter of an inch which would have +meant the difference to poor Conklin." + +"'Poor' Conklin? Why, you fish, he was sneakin' in here to try his hand +on you. He found out he couldn't get his gang into town, so he slipped +in by himself. He'll get ten years for this--and a thousand if they hold +him up for the other things he's done." + +"I know--and this fellow Nash was as quiet as the strike of a snake. If +he'd been a fraction of a second slower I might be where Conklin is now. +I'll never forget Nash for this." + +She said pointedly: "No, he's a bad one to forget; keep an eye on him. +You spoke of a snake--that's how smooth Steve is." + +"Remember your own motto, Miss Fortune. He saved my life; therefore I +must trust him." + +She answered sullenly: "You're your own boss." + +"What's wrong with Nash?" + +"Find out for yourself." + +"Are all these fellows something other than they seem?" + +"What about yourself?" + +"How do you mean that?" + +"What trail are you on, Bard? Don't look so innocent. Oh, I seen you was +after something a long time ago." + +"I am. After excitement, you know." + +"Ain't you finding enough?" + +"I've got two things ahead of me." + +"Well?" + +"This trip, and when I come back I think making love to you would be +more exciting than gun-plays." + +They regarded each other with bantering smiles. + +"A tenderfoot like you make love to me? That would be exciting, all +right, if it wasn't so funny." + +"As for the competition," he said serenely, "that would be simply a good +background." + +"Hate yourself, don't you, Bard?" she grinned. + +"The rest of these boys are all very well, but they don't see that what +you want is the velvet touch." + +"What's that?" + +She was as frankly curious as some boy hearing a new game described. + +"You've only been loved in one way. These rough-handed fellows come in +and throw an arm around you and ask you to marry them; isn't that it? +What you really need, is an old, simple, but very effective method." + +Though her eyes were shining, she yawned. + +"It don't interest me, Bard." + +"On the contrary, you're getting quite excited." + +"So does a horse before it gets ready to buck." + +"Exactly. If I thought it would be easy I wouldn't be tempted." + +"Well, if you like fighting you've sure mapped out a nice sizeable +quarrel with me, Bud." + +"Good. I'm certainly coming back to Eldara. Now about this method of +mine--" + +"Throwing your cards on the table, eh? What you got, Bard, a royal +flush?" + +"Right again. It's a very simple method but you couldn't beat it." + +"Bud, you ain't half old enough to kid me." + +"What you need," he persisted calmly, "is someone who would sit down +and simply talk good, plain English to you." + +"Let 'er go." + +"In the first place I will call attention to your method of dressing." + +"Anything wrong with it?" + +"I knew you'd be interested." + +She slipped into a chair and sat cross-legged in it, her elbows on her +knees and her chin cupped in both her hands. + +"Sure I'm interested. If there's a new way fixin' ham-and, serve it +out." + +"I would begin," he went on judiciously, "by saying that you dressed in +five minutes in the dark." + +"It's generally dark at 5 a.m.," she admitted. + +"You look, on the whole, as if you'd fallen into your clothes." + +The wounded man stirred and groaned faintly. + +She called: "Lie down, Butch; I'm busy. Go on, Bard." + +"If you keep a mirror it's a wall decoration--not for personal use." + +"Maybe this is an old method, Bard; but around this place it'd be a +quick way of gettin' shot." + +"Angry?" + +"You'd peeve a mule." + +"This was only an introduction. The next thing is to sit close beside +you and shift the lamp so that the light would shine on your face; then +take your hand--" + +He suited his action to his word. + +"Let go my hand, Bard. It's like the rest of me--not a decoration but +for use." + +"Afraid of me, Sally?" + +"Not of a regiment like you." + +"Then of my method?" + +"Go on; I'm game." + +"But this is all there is to it." + +"What d'you mean?" + +"Just what I say. Having observed that you haven't set off any of your +advantages, I will sit here and look into your face in silence, which is +as much as to say that no matter how you dress you can't spoil a very +excellent figure, Sally. I suppose you've heard that before?" + +"Lots of times," she muttered. + +"But you wouldn't hear it from me. All I would do would be to sit and +stare and let you imagine what I'm thinking. And you'd begin to see that +in spite of the way you do your hair you can't spoil its colour nor its +texture." + +He raised his other hand and touched it. + +"Like silk, Sally." + +He studied her closely, noting the flush which began to touch her +cheeks. + +"Part of the game is for you to keep looking me in the eye." + +"Well, I'll be--Go on, I'm game." + +"Is it hard to sit like this--silently? Do I do it badly?" + +"No, you show lots of practice. How many have you tried this method on, +Bard?" + +He made a vague gesture and then, smiling: "Millions, Sally, and they +all liked it." + +"So do I." + +And they laughed together, and grew serious at the same instant. + +"All silence--like this?" she queried. + +"No; after a while I would say: 'You are beautiful.'" + +"You don't get a blue ribbon for that, Bard." + +"Not for the words, but the way they're said, which shows I mean them." + +She blinked as though to clear her eyes and then met his stare again. + +"You know you are beautiful, Sally." + +"With a pug nose--freckles--and all that?" + +"Just a tip-tilt in the nose, Sally. Why, it's charming. And you have +everything else--young, strong, graceful, clear." + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"Clear? Fresh and colourful like the sunset over the desert. Do you +understand?" + +Her eyes went down to consider. + +"I s'pose I do." + +"With a touch of awe in it, because the silence and the night are +coming, and the stars walk down, one by one--one by one. And the wind is +low, soft, musical, whispering, as you do now--What if this were not a +game of suppose, Sally?" + +She wrenched herself suddenly away, rising. + +"I'm tired of supposing!" she cried. + +"Then we'll call it all real. What of that?" + +That colour was unmistakably high now; it ran down from her cheeks and +even stained the pure white of the throat where the flap of the shirt +was open. He was excited as a hunter who has tracked some new and +dangerous animal and at last driven it to bay, holding his gun poised, +and not knowing whether or not it will prove vulnerable. + +He stepped close, eager, prepared for any wild burst of temper; but she +let him take her hands, let him draw her close, bend back her head; hold +her closer still, till the warmth and softness of her body reached him, +but when his lips came close she said quietly: "Are you a rotter, +Bard?" + +He stiffened and the smile went out on his lips. He stepped back. + +She repeated: "Are you a rotter?" + +He raised the one hand which he still retained and touched it to his +lips. + +"I am very sorry," said Anthony, "will you forgive me?" + +And with her eyes large and grave upon him she answered: "I wonder if I +can!" + +Butch Conklin looked up, raising his bandaged head slowly, like a white +flag of truce, with a stain of red growing through the cloth. He stared +at the two, raised a hand to his head as though to rub away the dream, +found a pain too real for a dream, and then, like a crab which has grown +almost too old to walk, waddled on hands and knees, slowly, from the +room and melted silently into the dark beyond. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +FOOLISH HABITS + +A sharp noise of running feet leaped from the dust of the street and +clattered through the doorway; the two turned. A swarthy man, broad of +shoulder, was the first, and afterward appeared Nash. + +"Conklin?" called Deputy Glendin, and swept the room with his startled +glance. "Where's Conklin?" + +He was not there; only a red stain remained on the floor to show where +he had lain. + +"Where's Conklin?" called Nash. + +"I'm afraid," whispered Bard quickly to the girl, "that it was more than +a game of suppose." + +He said easily to the other two: "He had enough. His share of trouble +came to-night; I let him go." + +"Young feller," growled Glendin, "you ain't been in town a long while, +but I've heard a pile too much about you already. What you mean by +takin' the law into your own hands?" + +"Wait," said Nash, his keen eyes on the two, "I guess I understand." + +"Let's have it, then." + +Still the steady eyes of Nash passed from Sally Fortune to Bard and back +again. + +"This feller bein' a tenderfoot, he don't understand our ways; maybe he +thinks the range is a bit freer than it is." + +"That's the trouble," answered Glendin, "he thinks too damned much." + +"And does quite a pile besides thinkin'," murmured Nash, but too low for +the others to hear it. + +He hesitated, and then, as if making up his mind by a great effort: +"There ain't no use blamin' him; better let it drop, Glendin." + +"Nothin' else to do, Steve; but it's funny Sally let him do it." + +"It is," said Nash with emphasis, "but then women is pretty funny in +lots of ways. Ready to start, Bard?" + +"All ready." + +"S'long, Sally." + +"Good-night, Miss Fortune." + +"Evenin', boys. We'll be lookin' for you back in Eldara to-morrow night, +Bard." + +And her eyes fixed with meaning on Nash. + +"Certainly," answered the other, "my business ought not to take longer +than that." + +"I'll take him by the shortest cut," said Nash, and the two went out to +their horses. + +They had difficulty in riding the trail side by side, for though the +roan was somewhat rested by the delay at Eldara it was impossible to +keep him up with Bard's prancing piebald, which sidestepped at every +shadow. Yet the tenderfoot never allowed his mount to pass entirely +ahead of the roan, but kept checking him back hard, turning toward Nash +with an apology each time he surged ahead. It might have been merely +that he did not wish to precede the cowpuncher on a trail which he did +not know. It might have been something quite other than this which made +him consistently keep to the rear; Nash felt certain that the second +possibility was the truth. + +In that case his work would be doubly hard. From all that he had seen +the man was dangerous--the image of the tame puma returned to him again +and again. He could not see him plainly through the dark of the night, +but he caught the sway of the body and recognized a perfect +horsemanship, not a Western style of riding, but a good one no matter +where it was learned. He rode as if he were sewed to the back of the +horse, and, as old William Drew had suggested, he probably did other +things up to the same standard. It would have been hard to fulfil his +promise to Drew under any circumstances with such a man as this; but +with Bard apparently forewarned and suspicious the thing became almost +impossible. + +Almost, but not entirely so. He set himself calmly to the problem; on +the horn of his saddle the lariat hung loose; if the Easterner should +turn his back for a single instant during all the time they were +together old Drew should not be disappointed, and one thousand cash +would be deposited for the mutual interest of Sally Fortune and himself. +That is to say, if Sally would consent to become interested. To the +silent persuasion of money, however, Nash trusted many things. + +The roan jogged sullenly ahead, giving all the strength of his gallant, +ugly body to the work; the piebald mustang pranced like a dancing master +beside and behind with a continual jingling of the tossed bridle. + +The masters were to a degree like the horses they rode, for Nash kept +steadily leaning to the front, his bulldog jaw thrusting out; and Bard +was forever shifting in the saddle, settling his hat, humming a tune, +whistling, talking to the piebald, or asking idle questions of the +things they passed, like a boy starting out for a vacation. So they +reached the old house of which Nash had spoken--a mere, shapeless, black +heap huddling through the night. + +In the shed to the rear they tied the horses and unsaddled. In the +single room of the shanty, afterward, Nash lighted a candle, which he +produced from his pack, placed it in the centre of the floor, and they +unrolled their blankets on the two bunks which were built against the +wall on either side of the narrow apartment. + +Truly it was a crazy shack--such a building as two men, having the +materials at hand, might put together in a single day. It was hardly +based on a foundation, but rather set on the slope side of the hill, and +accordingly had settled down on the lower side toward the door. Not an +old place, but the wind had pried and the rain warped generous cracks +between the boards through which the rising storm whistled and sang and +through which the chill mist of the coming rain cut at them. + +Now and then a feeling came to Anthony that the gale might lift the +tottering old shack and roll it on down the hillside to the floor of the +valley, for it rocked and swayed under the breath of the storm. In a way +it was as if the night was giving a loud voice to the silent struggle of +the two men, who continued pleasant, careless with each other. + +But when Nash stepped across the room behind Bard, the latter turned and +was busy with the folding of his blankets at the foot of his bunk, his +face toward the cowpuncher and when Bard, slipping off his belt, fumbled +at his holster, Nash was instantly busy with the cleaning of his own +gun. + +The cattleman, having removed his boots, his hat, and his belt, was +ready for bed, and slipped his legs under the blankets. He stooped and +picked up his lariat, which lay coiled on the floor beside him. + +"People gets into foolish habits on the range," he said, thumbing the +strong rope curiously, and so doing, spreading out the noose. + +"Yes?" smiled Bard, and he also sat up in his bunk. + +"It's like a kid. Give him a new toy and he wants to take it to bed with +him. Ever notice?" + +"Surely." + +"That's the way with me. When I go to bed nothin' matters with me except +that I have my lariat around. I generally like to have it hangin' on a +nail at the head of my bunk. The fellers always laugh at me, but I can't +help it; makes me feel more at home." + +And with that, still smiling at his own folly in a rather shamefaced +way, he turned in the blankets and dropped the big coil of the lariat +over a nail which projected from the boards just over the head of his +bunk. The noose was outermost and could be disengaged from the nail by a +single twist of the cowpuncher's hand as he lay passive in the bunk. + +On this noose Bard cast a curious eye. To cityfolk a piece of rope is a +harmless thing with which one may make a trunk secure or on occasion +construct a clothes line on the roof of the apartment building, or in +the kitchen on rainy Mondays. + +To a sailor the rope is nothing and everything at once. Give a seaman +even a piece of string and he will amuse himself all evening making +lashings and knots. A piece of rope calls up in his mind the stout lines +which hold the masts steady and the yards true in the gale, the +comfortable cable which moors the ship at the end of the dreary voyage, +and a thousand things between. + +To the Westerner a rope is a different thing. It is not so much a useful +material as a weapon. An Italian, fighting man to man, would choose a +knife; a Westerner would take in preference that same harmless piece of +rope. In his hands it takes on life, it gains a strange and sinister +quality. One instant it lies passive, or slowly whirled in a careless +circle--the next its noose darts out like the head of a striking cobra, +the coil falls and fastens, and then it draws tighter and tighter, +remorselessly as a boa constrictor, paralyzing life. + +Something of all this went through the mind of Bard as he lay watching +the limp noose of the cowboy's lariat, and then he nodded smiling. + +"I suppose that seems an odd habit to some men, but I sympathize with +it. I have it myself, in fact. And whenever I'm out in the wilds and +carry a gun I like to have it under my head when I sleep. That's even +queerer than your fancy, isn't it?" + +And he slipped his revolver under the blankets at the head of his bunk. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +THE CANDLE + +"Yes," said Nash, "that's a queer stunt, because when you're lyin' like +that with your head right over the gun and the blankets in between, it'd +take you a couple of seconds to get it out." + +"Not when you're used to it. You'd be surprised to see how quickly a man +can get the gun out from under." + +"That so?" + +"Yes, and shooting while you're lying on your back is pretty easy, too, +when you've had practice." + +"Sure, with a rifle, but not with a revolver." + +"Well, do you see that bit of paper in the corner there up on the +rafter?" + +"Yes." + +The hand of Bard whipped under his head, there was a gleam and whirl of +steel, an explosion, and the bit of paper came fluttering slowly down +from the rafter, like a wounded bird struggling to keep upon the air. A +draft caught the paper just before it landed and whirled it through the +doorless entrance and out into the night. + +He was yawning as he restored the gun beneath the blanket, but from the +corner of his eye he saw the hardening of Nash's face, a brief change +which came and went like the passing of a shadow. + +"That's something I'll remember," drawled the cowpuncher. + +"You ought to," answered the other quickly, "it comes in handy now and +then." + +"Feel sleepy?" + +The candle guttered and flickered on the floor midway between the two +bunks, and Bard, glancing to it, was about to move from his bed and +snuff it; but at the thought of so doing it seemed to him as if he could +almost sense with prophetic mind the upward dart of the noose about his +shoulders. He edged a little lower in the blankets. + +"Not a bit. How about you?" + +"Me? I most generally lie awake a while and gab after I hit the hay. +Makes me sleep better afterward." + +"I do the same thing when I've any one who listens to me--or talks to +me." + +"Queer how many habits we got the same, eh?" + +"It is. But after all, most of us are more alike than we care to +imagine." + +"Yes, there ain't much difference; sometimes the difference ain't as +much as a split-second watch would catch, but it may mean that one +feller passes out and the other goes on." + +They lay half facing each other, each with his head pillowed on an arm. + +"By Jove! lucky we reached this shelter before the rain came." + +"Yep. A couple of hours of this and the rivers will be up--may take up +all day to get back to the ranch if we have to ride up to the ford on +the Saverack." + +"Then we'll swim 'em." + +The other smiled drily. + +"Swim the Saverack when she's up? No, lad, we won't do that." + +"Then I'll have to work it alone, I suppose. You see, I have that date +in Eldara for tomorrow night." + +Nash set his teeth, to choke back the cough. He produced papers and +tobacco, rolled a cigarette with lightning speed, lighted it, and +inhaled a long puff. + +"Sure, you ought to keep that date, but maybe Sally would wait till the +night after." + +"She impressed me, on the whole, as not being of the waiting kind." + +"H-m! A little delay does 'em good; gives 'em a chance to think." + +"Why, every man has his own way with women, I suppose, but my idea is, +keep them busy--never give them a chance to think. If you do, they +generally waste the chance and forget you altogether." + +Another coughing spell overtook Nash and left him frowning down at the +glowing end of his butt. + +"She ain't like the rest." + +"I wonder?" mused the Easterner. + +He had an infinite advantage in this duel of words, for he could watch +from under the shadow of his long, dark lashes the effect of his +speeches on the cowboy, yet never seem to be looking. For he was +wondering whether the enmity of Nash, which he felt as one feels an +unknown eye upon him in the dark, came from their rivalry about the +girl, or from some deeper cause. He was inclined to think that the girl +was the bottom of everything, but he left his mind open on the subject. + +And Nash, pondering darkly and silently, measured the strength of the +slender stranger and felt that if he were the club the other was the +knife which made less sound but might prove more deadly. Above all he +was conscious of the Easterner's superiority of language, which might +turn the balance against him in the ear of Sally Fortune. He dropped +the subject of the girl. + +"You was huntin' over on the old place on the other side of the range?" + +"Yes." + +"Pretty fair run of game?" + +"Rather." + +"I think you said something about Logan?" + +"Did I? I've been thinking a good deal about him. He gave me the wrong +tip about the way to Eldara. When I get back to the old place--" + +"Well?" + +The other smiled unpleasantly and made a gesture as if he were snapping +a twig between his hands. + +"I'll break him in two." + +The eyes of Nash grew wide with astonishment; he was remembering that +same phrase on the lips of the big, grey man, Drew. + +He murmured: "That may give you a little trouble. Logan's a peaceable +chap, but he has his record before he got down as low as sheepherdin'." + +"I like trouble--now and then." + +A pause. + +"Odd old shack over there." + +"Drew's old house?" + +"Yes. There's a grave in front of it." + +"And there's quite a yarn inside the grave." + +The cowpuncher was aware that the other stirred--not much, but as if he +winced from a drop of cold water; he felt that he was close on the trail +of the real reason why the Easterner wished to see Drew. + +"A story about Drew's wife?" + +"You read the writing on the headstone, eh?" + +"'Joan, she chose this place for rest,'" quoted Bard. + +"That was all before my time; it was before the time of any others in +these parts, but a few of the grey-beards know a bit about the story and +I've gathered a little of it from Drew, though he ain't much of a +talker." + +"I'd like to hear it." + +Sensitively aware of Bard, as a photographic plate is aware of light on +exposures, the cowpuncher went on with the tale. + +And Bard, his glance probing among the shadowy rafters of the room, +seemed to be searching there for the secret on whose trail he rode. +Through the interims the rain crashed and volleyed on the roof above +them; the cold spray whipped down on them through the cracks; the wind +shook and rattled the crazy house; and the drawling voice of Nash went +on and on. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +JOAN + +"Them were the days when this was a man's country, which a man could +climb on his hoss with a gun and a rope and touch heaven and hell in one +day's ridin'. Them good old days ain't no more. I've heard the old man +tell about 'em. Now they've got everybody stamped and branded with law +an' order, herded together like cattle, ticketed, done for. That's the +way the range is now. The marshals have us by the throat. In the old +days a sheriff that outlived his term was probably crooked and runnin' +hand in hand with the long-riders." + +"Long-riders?" queried Bard. + +"Fellers that got tired of workin' and took to ridin' for their livin'. +Mostly they worked in little gangs of five and six. They was called +long-riders, I guess, partly because they was in the saddle all the +time, and partly because they done their jobs so far apart. They'd ride +into Eldara and blow up the safe in the bank one day, for instance, and +five days later they'd be two hundred and fifty miles away stoppin' a +train at Lewis Station. + +"They never hung around no one part of the country and that made it hard +as hell to run 'em down--that and because they had the best hosses that +money could buy. They had friends, too, strung out all over--squatters +and the like of that. They'd drop in on these little fellers and pass +'em a couple of twenties and make themselves solid for life. Afterward +they used 'em for stoppin' places. + +"They'd pull off a couple of hold-ups, then they'd ride off to one of +these squatter places and lay up for ten days, maybe, drinkin' and +feedin' up themselves and their hosses. That was the only way they was +ever caught. They was killed off by each other, fighting about the +split-up, or something like that. + +"But now and then a gang held together long enough to raise so much hell +that they got known from one end of the range to the other. Mostly they +held together because they had a leader who knew how to handle 'em and +who kept 'em under his thumb. That was the way with old Piotto. + +"He had five men under him. They was all hell-benders who had ridden the +range alone and had their share of fights and killings, which there +wasn't one of 'em that wouldn't have been good enough to go leader in +any other crew, but they had to knuckle under to old Piotto. He was a +great gunman and he was pretty good in scheming up ways of dodging the +law and picking the best booty. He had these five men, and then he had +his daughter, Joan. She was better'n two ordinary men herself. + +"Three years that gang held together and got rich--fair rich. They made +it so fast they couldn't even gamble the stuff away. About a thousand +times, I guess posses went out after Piotto, but they never came back +with a trace of 'em; they never got within shootin' distance. Finally +Piotto got so confident that he started raidin' ranches and carryin' off +members of well-off ranchers to hold for ransom. That was the easiest +way of makin' money; it was also pretty damned dangerous. + +"One time they held up a stage and picked off of it two kids who was +comin' out from the East to try their hands in the cattle business. They +was young, they looked like gentlemen, they was dressed nifty, and they +packed big rolls. So wise old Piotto took 'em off into the hills and +held 'em till their folks back East could wire out the money to save +'em. That was easy money for Piotto, but that was the beginnin' of the +end for him; because while they was waitin', them two kids seen Joan and +seen her good. + +"I been telling you she was better'n two common men. She was. Which +means she was equal to about ten ordinary girls. There's still a legend +about how beautiful Joan Piotto was--tall and straight and big black +eyes and terrible handy with her gun. She could ride anything that +walked and she didn't know what fear meant. + +"These two kids seen her. One of 'em was William Drew; one of 'em was +John Bard." + +He turned to Anthony and saw that the latter was stern of face. He had +surely scored his point. + +"Same name as yours, eh?" he asked, to explain his turning. + +"It's a common enough name," murmured Bard. + +"Well, them two had come out to be partners, and there they was, fallin' +in love with the same girl. So when they got free they put their heads +together--bein' uncommon wise kids--and figured it out this way. Neither +of 'em had a chance workin' alone to get Joan way from her father's +gang, but workin' together they might have a ghost of a show. So they +decided to stay on the trail of Piotto till they got Joan. Then they'd +give her a choice between the two of 'em and the one that lost would +simply back off the boards. + +"They done what they agreed. For six months they stuck on the trail of +old Piotto and never got in hailin' distance of him. Then they come on +the gang while they were restin' up in the house of a squatter. + +"That was a pretty night. Drew and Bard went through that gang. It +sounds like a nice fairy-story, all right, but I know old fellers who'll +swear it's true. They killed three of the men with their guns; they +knifed another one, an' they killed Riley with their bare hands. It +wasn't no pretty sight to see--the inside of that house. And last of all +they got Piotto, fightin' like an old wildcat, into a corner with his +daughter; and William Drew, he took Piotto into his arms and busted his +back. That don't sound possible, but when you see Drew you'll know how +it was done. + +"The girl, she'd been knocked cold before this happened. So while Bard +and Drew sat together bindin' up each other's wounds--because they was +shot pretty near to pieces--they talked it over and they seen pretty +clear that the girl would never marry the man that had killed her +father. Of course, old Bill Drew, he'd done the killing, but that wasn't +any reason why he had to take the blame. + +"They made up their minds that right there and then with the dead men +lyin' all around 'em, they'd match coins to see which one would take the +blame of havin' killed Piotto--meanin' that the other one would get the +girl--if he could. + +"And Bard lost. So he had to take the credit of havin' killed old +Piotto. I'd of give something to have seen the two of 'em sittin' +there--oozin' blood--after that marchin' was decided. Because they tell +me that Bard was as big as Drew and looked pretty much the same. + +"Then Bard, he asked Drew to let him have one chance at the girl, +lettin' her know first what he'd done, but jest trustin' to his power of +talk. Which, of course, didn't give him no show. While he was makin' +love to the girl she outs with a knife and tries to stick him--nice, +pleasant sort she must have been--and Drew, he had to pry the two of 'em +apart. + +"That made the girl look sort of kind on Drew and she swore that sooner +or later she'd have the blood of Bard for what he'd done--either have it +herself or else send someone after him to the end of the world. She was +a wild one, all right. + +"She was so wild that Drew, after they got married, took her over on the +far side of the range and built that old house that's rottin' there +now. Bard, he left the range and wasn't never seen again, far as I +know." + +It was clear to Anthony, bitterly clear. His father had had a grim scene +in parting with Drew and had placed the continent between them. And in +the Eastern states he had met that black-eyed girl, his mother, and +loved her because she was so much like the wild daughter of Piotto. The +girl Joan in dying had probably extracted from Drew a promise that he +would kill Bard, and that promise he had lived to fulfil. + +"So Joan died?" he queried. + +"Yep, and was buried under them two trees in front of the house. I don't +think she lived long after they was married, but about that nobody +knows. They was clear off by themselves and there isn't any one can tell +about their life after they was married. All we know is that Drew didn't +get over her dyin'. He ain't over it yet, and goes out to the old place +every month or so to potter around the grave and keep the grass and the +weeds off of it and clean the head-stone." + +The candle guttered wildly on the floor. It had burnt almost to the wood +and now the remnant of the wick stood in a little sprawling pool of +grease white at the outer edges. + +Bard yawned, and patted idly the blanket where it touched on the shape +of the revolver beneath. In another moment that candle would gutter out +and they would be left in darkness. + +He said: "That's the best yarn I've heard in a good many days; it's +enough to make any one sleepy--so here goes." + +And he turned deliberately on his side. + +Nash, his eyes staring with incredulity, sat up slowly among his +blankets and his hand stole up toward the noose of the lariat. A light +snore reached him, hardly a snore so much as the heavy intake of breath +of a very weary, sleeping man; yet the hand of Nash froze on the lariat. + +"By God," he whispered faintly to himself, "he ain't asleep!" + +And the candle flared wildly, leaped, and shook out. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +THE SWIMMING OF THE SAVERACK + +Over the face of Nash the darkness passed like a cold hand and a colder +sense of failure touched his heart; but men who have ridden the range +have one great power surpassing all others--the power of patience. As +soundlessly as he had pushed himself up the moment before, he now +slipped down in the blankets and resigned himself to sleep. + +He knew that he would wake at the first hint of grey light and trusted +that after the long ride of the day before his companion would still be +fast asleep. That half light would be enough for his work; but when he +roused while the room was still scarcely more visible than if it were +filled with a grey fog, he found Bard already up and pulling on his +boots. + +"How'd you sleep?" he growled, following the example of the tenderfoot. + +"Not very well," said the other cheerily. "You see, that story of yours +was so vivid in my mind that I stayed awake about all night, I guess, +thinking it over." + +"I knew it," murmured Nash to himself. "He was awake all the time. And +still-----" + +If that thrown noose of the lariat had settled over the head and +shoulders of the sham sleeper it would have made no difference whether +he waked or slept--in the end he would have sat before William Drew tied +hand and foot. If that noose had not settled? The picture of the little +piece of paper fluttering to the floor came back with a strange +vividness to the mind of Nash, and he had to shrug his shoulders to +shake the thought away. + +They were in the saddle a very few moments after they awoke and started +out, breakfastless. The rain long ago had ceased, and there was only the +solemn silence of the brown hills around them--silence, and a faint, +crinkling sound as if the thirsty soil still drank. It had been a heavy +fall of rain, they could see, for whenever they passed a bare spot where +no grass grew, it was crossed by a thick tracery of the rivulets which +had washed down the slopes during the night. + +Soon they reached a little creek whose current, barely knee deep, foamed +up around the shoulders of the horses and set them staggering. + +"The Saverack will be hell," said Nash, "and we'd better cut straight +for the ford." + +"How long will it take?" + +"Add about three hours to the trip." + +"Can't do it; remember that little date back in Eldara to-night." + +"Then look for yourself and make up your mind for yourself," said Nash +drily, for they topped a hill, and below them saw a mighty yellow flood +pouring down the valley. It went leaping and shouting as if it rejoiced +in some destruction it had worked and was still working, and the muddy +torrent was threaded with many a ridge of white and swirling with +bubbles. + +"The Saverack," said Nash. "Now what d'you think about fording it?" + +"If we can't ford it, we can swim it," declared Bard. "Look at that +tree-trunk. If that will float I will float, and if I can float I can +swim, and if I can swim I'll reach the other bank of that little creek. +Won't we, boy?" + +And he slapped the proud neck of the mustang. + +"Swim it?" said Nash incredulously. "Does that date mean as much as that +to you?" + +"It isn't the date; it's the promise I gave," answered the other, +watching the current with a cool eye, "besides, when I was a youngster +I used to do things like this for the sport of it." + +They rode down to the edge of the stream. + +"How about it, Nash, will you take the chance with me?" + +And the other, looking down: "Try the current, I'll stay here on the +shore and if it gets too strong for you I'll throw out a rope, eh? But +if you can make it, I'll follow suit." + +The other cast a somewhat wistful eye of doubt upon the cowpuncher. + +"How far is it to the ford?" he asked. + +"About eight miles," answered Nash, doubling the distance on the spot. + +"Eight miles?" repeated the other ruefully. "Too far. Then here goes, +Nash." + +Still never turning his back on the cowpuncher, who was now uncoiling +his lariat and preparing it for a cast, Bard edged the piebald into the +current. He felt the mustang stagger as the water came knee-deep, and he +checked the horse, casting his eye from shore to shore and summing up +the chances. + +If it had been simply water against which he had to contend, he would +not have hesitated, but here and there along the course sharp pointed +rocks and broad-backed boulders loomed, and now and then, with a mighty +splashing and crashing one of these was overbalanced by the force of the +current and rolled another step toward the far-off sea. + +That rush of water would carry him far downstream and the chances were +hardly more than even that he would not strike against one of these +murderous obstructions about which the current foamed. + +An impulse made him turn and wave a hand to Nash. + +He shouted: "Give me luck?" + +"Luck?" roared the cowboy, and his voice came as if faint with distance +over the thunder of the stream. + +He touched the piebald with the spurs, and the gallant little horse +floundered forward, lost footing and struck into water beyond its depth. +At the same instant Bard swung clear of the saddle and let his body +trail out behind, holding with his left hand to the tail of the +struggling horse and kicking to aid the progress. + +Immersed to the chin, and sometimes covered by a more violent wave, the +sound of the river grew at once strangely dim, but he felt the force of +the current tugging at him like a thousand invisible hands. He began to +wish that he had taken off his boots before entering, for they weighted +his feet so that it made him leg-weary to kick. Nevertheless he trusted +in the brave heart of the mustang. There was no wavering in the wild +horse. Only his head showed over the water, but the ears were pricking +straight and high, and it never once swerved back toward the nearer +shore. + +Their progress at first was good, but as they neared the central portion +of the water they were swept many yards downstream for one that they +made in a transverse direction. Twice they missed projecting rocks by +the narrowest margin, and then something like an exceedingly thin and +exceedingly strong arm caught Anthony around the shoulders. It tugged +back, stopped all their forward progress, and let them sweep rapidly +down the stream and back toward the shore. + +Turning his head he caught a glimpse of Nash sitting calmly in his +saddle, holding the rope in both hands--and laughing. The next instant +he saw no more, for the current placed a taller rock between him and the +bank. On that rock the line of the lariat caught, hooking the swimmers +sharply in toward the bank. He would have cut the rope, but it would be +almost impossible to get out a knife and open a blade with his teeth, +still clinging to the tail of the swimming horse with one hand. He +reached down through the water, pulled out the colt, and with an effort +swung himself about. Close at hand he could not reach the rope, and +therefore he fired not directly at the rope itself, but at the edge of +the rock around which the lariat bent at a sharp angle. The splash of +that bullet from the strong face of the rock sliced the rope like a +knife. It snapped free, and the brave little mustang straightened out +again for the far shore. + +An instant more Bard swam with the revolver poised above the water, but +he caught no glimpse of Nash; so he restored it with some difficulty to +the holster, and gave all his attention and strength to helping the +horse through the water, swimming with one hand and kicking vigorously +with his feet. + +Perhaps they would not have made it, for now through exhaustion the ears +of the mustang were drooping back. He shouted, and at the faint sound of +his cheer the piebald pricked a single weary ear. He shouted again, and +this time not for encouragement, but from exultation; a swerving current +had caught them and was bearing them swiftly toward the desired bank. + +It failed them when they were almost touching bottom and swung sharply +out toward the centre again, but the mustang, as though it realized +that this was the last chance, fought furiously. Anthony gave the rest +of his strength, and they edged through, inch by inch, and horse and man +staggered up the bank and stood trembling with fatigue. + +Glancing back, he saw Nash in the act of throwing his lariat to the +ground, wild with anger, and before he could understand the meaning of +this burst of temper over a mere spoiled lariat, the gun whipped from +the side of the cowboy, exploded, and the little piebald, with ears +pricked sharply forward as though in vague curiosity, crumpled to the +ground. The suddenness of it took all power of action from Bard for the +instant. He stood staring stupidly down at the dying horse and then +whirled, gun in hand, frantic with anger and grief. + +Nash was galloping furiously up the far bank of the Saverack, already +safely out of range, and speeding toward the ford. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +DREW SMILES + +When the cattleman felt the rope snap back to his hand he could not +realize at first just what had happened. The crack of the gun had been +no louder than the snapping of a twig in that storming of the river, and +the only explanation he could find was that the rope had struck some +superlatively sharp edge of the rock and been sawed in two. But +examining the cut end he found it severed as cleanly as if a knife had +slashed across it, and then it was he knew and threw the lariat to the +ground. + +When he saw Bard scramble up the opposite bank he knew that his game was +lost and all the tables reversed, for the Easterner was a full two hours +closer to the home of Drew than he was, with the necessary detour up to +the ford. The Easterner might be delayed by the unknown country for a +time, but not very long. He was sure to meet someone who would point the +way. It was then that Nash drew his gun and shot down the piebald +mustang. + +The next instant he was racing straight up the river toward the ford. +The roan was not spared this day, for there were many chances that Bard +might secure a fresh mount to speed him on the way to the Drew ranch, +and now it was all important that the big grey man be warned; for there +was a danger in that meeting, as Nash was beginning to feel. + +By noon he reached the house and went straight to the owner, a desperate +figure, spattered with mud to the eyes, a three days' growth of whiskers +blackening his face, and that face gaunt with the long, hard riding. He +found the imperturbable Drew deep in a book in his office. While he was +drawing breath, the rancher examined him with a faint smile. + +"I thought this would be the end of it," he announced. + +"The devil and all hell plays on the side of Bard," answered the +foreman. "I had him safe--almost tied hand and foot. He got away." + +"Got away?" + +"Shot the rope in two." + +The other placed a book-mark, closed the volume, and looked up with the +utmost serenity. + +"Try again," he said quietly. "Take half a dozen men with you, surprise +him in the night----" + +"Surprise a wolf," growled Nash. "It's just the same." + +The shaggy eyebrows stirred. + +"How far is he away?" + +"Two or three miles--maybe half a dozen--I don't know. He'll be here +before night." + +The big man changed colour and gripped the edge of the desk. Nash had +never dreamed that it would be possible to so stir him. + +"Coming here?" + +"Yes." + +"Nash--you infernal fool! Did you let him know where you were taking +him?" + +"No. He was already on the way here." + +Once more Drew winced. He rose now and strode across the room and back; +from the wall the heavy echo of his footfall came sharply back. And he +paused in front of Nash, looming above his foreman like some primitive +monster, or as the Grecian heroes loomed above the rank and file at the +siege of Troy. He was like a relic of some earlier period when bigger +men were needed for a greater physical labour. + +"What does he want?" + +"I don't know. Says he wants to ask for the right of hunting on your +old place on the other side of the range. Which I'd tell a man it's jest +a lie. He knows he can hunt there if he wants to." + +"Does he know me?" + +"Just your name." + +"Did he ask many questions about me?" + +"Wanted to know what you looked like." + +"And you told him?" + +"A lot of things. Said you were big and grey. And I told him that story +about you and John Bard." + +Drew slumped into a chair and ground the knuckles of his right hand +across his forehead. The white marks remained as he looked up again. + +"What was that?" + +"Why, how you happened to marry Joan Piotto and how Bard left the +country." + +"That was all?" + +"Is there any more, sir?" + +The other stared into the distance, overlooking the question. + +"Tell me what you've found out about him." + +"I been after him these three days. Logan tipped him wrong, and he +started the south trail for Eldara. I got on his trail three times and +couldn't catch him till we hit Eldara." + +"I thought your roan was the most durable horse on the range, Steve. +You've often told me so." + +"He is." + +"But you couldn't catch--Bard?" + +"He was on a faster horse than mine--for a while." + +"Well? Isn't he now?' + +"I killed the horse." + +"You showed your hand, then? He knows you were sent after him?" + +"No, he thinks it's because of a woman." + +"Is he tangling himself up with some girl?" frowned the rancher. + +"He's cutting in on me with Sally Fortune--damn his heart!" + +And Nash paled visibly, even through whiskers and mud. The other almost +smiled. + +"So soon, Nash?" + +"With hosses and women, he don't lose no time." + +"What's he done?" + +"The first trace I caught of him was at a shack of an old ranchhouse +where he'd traded his lame hoss in. They gave him the wildest mustang +they had--a hoss that was saddle-shy and that hadn't never been ridden. +He busted that hoss in--a little piebald mustang, tougher 'n iron--and +that was why I didn't catch him till we hit Eldara." + +The smile was growing more palpable on the face of Drew, and he nodded +for the story to continue. + +"Then I come to a house which was all busted up because Bard had come +along and flirted with the girl, and she's got too proud for the feller +she was engaged to--begun thinkin' of millionaires right away, I s'pose. + +"Next I tracked him to Flanders's saloon, where he'd showed up Sandy +Ferguson the day before and licked him bad. I seen Ferguson. It was sure +some lickin'." + +"Ferguson? The gun-fighter? The two-gun man?" + +"Him." + +"Ah-h-h!" drawled the big man. + +The colour was back in his face. He seemed to be enjoying the recountal +hugely. + +"Then I hit Eldara and found all the lights out." + +"Because of Bard?" + +"H-m! He'd had a run-in with Butch Conklin, and Butch threatened to come +back with all his gang and wipe Eldara off the map. He stuck around and +while he was waitin' for Butch and his gang, he started flirtin' with +Sally--Fortune." + +The name seemed to stick in his throat and he had to bring it out with a +grimace. "So now you want his blood, Nash?" + +"I'll have it," said the cowpuncher quietly, "I've got gambler's luck. +In the end I'm sure to win." + +"You're not going to win here, Nash." + +"No?" queried the younger man, with a dangerous intonation. + +"No. I know the blood behind that chap. You won't win here. Blood will +out." + +He smote his great fist on the desk-top and his laugh was a thunder +which reverberated through the room. + +"Blood will out? The blood of John Bard?" asked Nash. + +Drew started. + +"Who said John Bard?" + +He grew grey again, the flush dying swiftly. He started to his feet and +repeated in a great voice, sweeping the room with a wild glance: "Who +said John Bard?" + +"I thought maybe this was his son," answered Nash. + +"You're a fool! Does he look like John Bard? No, there's only one person +in the world he looks like." + +He strode again up and down the room, repeating in a deep monotone: +"John Bard!" + +Coming to a sharp halt he said: "I don't want the rest of your story. +The point is that the boy will be here within--an hour--two hours. We've +got work to do before that time." + +"Listen to me," answered the foreman, "don't let him get inside this +house. I'd rather take part of hell into a house of mine. Besides, if he +sees me--" + +"He's coming here, but he's not going to see either of us--my mind is +made up--neither of us until I have him helpless." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +THE COMEDY SETTING + +"Dead, you mean," broke in Nash, "because otherwise he'll never be +helpless." + +"I tell you, Nash," said the other solemnly, "I can make him helpless +with one minute of talk. My problem is to keep that wild devil harmless +while he listens to me talk. Another thing--if he ever sees me, nothing +_but_ death will stop him from coming at my throat." + +"Speakin' personal," said the other coldly, "I never take no chances on +fellers that might come at my throat." + +"I know; you're for the quick draw and the quick finish. But I'd rather +die myself than have a hair of his head hurt. I mean that!" + +Nash, his thoughts spinning, stood staring blankly. + +"I give up tryin' to figure it out; but if he's comin' here and you want +to keep him safe I'd better take a fresh hoss and get twenty miles away +before night." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind; you'll stay here with me." + +"And face him without a gun?" asked the other incredulously. + +"Leave gun talk out of this. I think one of the boys looks a little like +me. Lawlor--isn't that his name?" + +"Him? Yes; a little bit like you--but he's got his thickness through the +stomach and not through the chest." + +"Never mind. He's big, and he's grey. Send for him, and get the rest of +the boys in here. They're around now for noon. Get _every_ one. +Understand? And make it fast." + +In ten minutes they came to the office in a troop--rough men, smooth +men, little and big, fat and thin, but good cattlemen, every one. + +"Boys," said Drew, "a tenderfoot is coming to the ranch to-day. I'm +going to play a few jokes on him. First of all, I want you to know that +until the stranger leaves the house, Lawlor is going to take my place. +He is going to be Drew. Understand?" + +"Lawlor?" broke out several of them, and turned in surprise to a big, +cheerful man--grey, plump, with monstrous white whiskers. + +"Because he looks a bit like me. First, you'll have to crop those +whiskers, Lawlor." + +He clutched at the threatened whiskers with both hands. + +"Crop 'em? Chief, you ain't maybe runnin' me a bit?" + +"Not a bit," said Drew, smiling faintly. "I'll make it worth your +while." + +"It took me thirty years to raise them whiskers," said the cattleman, +stern with rebuke. "D'you think I could be _hired_ to give 'em up? It's +like givin' up some of myself." + +"Let them go, then. You can play the part, whiskers and all. The rest of +you remember that Lawlor is the boss." + +"And brand that deep," growled Lawlor, looking about with a frown. + +He had already stepped into his part; the others laughed loudly. + +"Steady there!" called Drew. "Lawlor starts as boss right now. Cut out +the laughing. I'll tell the rest of you what you're to do later on. In +the meantime just step out and I'll have a talk with Lawlor on his part. +We haven't much time to get ready. But remember--if one of you grins +when Lawlor gives an order--I'm done with that man--that's all." + +They filed out of the room, looking serious, and Drew concentrated on +Lawlor. "This sounds like a joke," he began, "but there's something +serious about it. If you carry it through safely, there's a hundred in +it for you. If you fall down, why, you fall out of an easy place on this +ranch." + +The big cattleman wiped a growing perspiration from his forehead and +considered his boss with plaintive eyes. + +"This tenderfoot who's coming is green to the range, but he's a hard +man; a fine horseman, a sure shot, and a natural fighter. More than +that, he's coming here looking for trouble; and he'll expect to get the +trouble from you." + +Lawlor brushed his moustache anxiously. + +"Let someone else take the job--that's all. A hundred ain't to be picked +up every week, but I'll do without it. In my day I've done my share of +brawlin' around, but I'm too stiff in the joints to make a fast draw and +getaway now. Let Nash take this job. He's gun-fighter enough to handle +this bad-man for you." + +"No," said Drew, "not even Nash can handle this one." + +"Then"--with a mighty and explosive emphasis--"there ain't no possible +use of me lingering around the job. S'-long." + +"Wait. This young chap isn't going to murder you. I'll tell you this +much. The man he wants is I; but he knows my face, not my name. He's +been on the trail of that face for some time, and now he's tracking it +to the right house; but when he sees you and hears you called Drew, +he'll be thrown off again." + +The other nodded gloomily. + +"I'm by way of a lightning rod. This tenderfoot with the hard hand, he +strikes and I sort of conduct the shock away from anything that'll burn, +eh?" + +Drew overlooked the comment. + +"There are certain things about me you will have to know." And he +explained carefully the story which Nash had told to Bard. + +"This Bard," asked the cautious Lawlor, "is he any relation of old John +Bard?" + +"Even if he were, it wouldn't make your position dangerous. The man he +wants is I. He knows my face--not my name. Until he sees me he'll be +perfectly reasonable, unless he's crossed. You must seem frank and above +board. If you tell more lies than are necessary he may get suspicious, +and if he grows suspicious the game is up and will have to be finished +with a gun play. Remember that. He'll want to know about Nash. Tell him +that Nash is a bad one and that you've fixed him; he mustn't expect to +find Nash here." + +Lawlor rubbed his hands, like one coming from the cold outdoors to a +warm fire. + +"I'm beginning to see light. Lemme at this Bard. I'm going to get enough +fun out of this to keep me laughin' the rest of my life." + +"Good; but keep that laugh up your sleeve. If he asks questions you'll +have some solemn things to say." + +"Chief, when the time comes, there's going to be about a gallon of tears +in my eyes." + +So Drew left him to complete the other arrangements. If Bard reached the +house he must be requested to stay, and if he stayed he must be fed and +entertained. The difficulty in the way of this was that the servants in +the big ranchhouse were two Chinese boys. They could never be trusted to +help in the deception, so Drew summoned two of his men, "Shorty" Kilrain +and "Calamity" Ben. + +Calamity had no other name than Ben, as far as any one on the range had +ever been able to learn. His nickname was derived from the most dolorous +face between Eldara and Twin Rivers. Two pale-blue eyes, set close +together, stared out with an endless and wistful pathos; a long nose +dropped below them, and his mouth curled down at the sides. He was +hopelessly round-shouldered from much and careless riding, and in +attempting to straighten he only succeeded in throwing back his head, so +that his lean neck generally was in a V-shape with the Adam's apple as +the apex of the wedge. + +Shorty Kilrain received his early education at sea and learned there a +general handiness which stood him in stead when he came to the +mountain-desert. There was nothing which Shorty could not do with his +hands, from making a knot to throwing a knife, and he was equally ready +to oblige with either accomplishment. Drew proposed that he take charge +of the kitchen with Calamity Ben as an assistant. Shorty glowered on the +rancher. + +"Me!" he said. "Me go into the galley to wait on a blasted tenderfoot?" + +"After he leaves you'll have a month off with full pay and some over, +Shorty." + +"Don't want the month off." + +Drew considered him thoughtfully, following the precept of Walpole that +every man has his price. + +"What _do_ you want, Shorty?" + +The ex-sailor scratched his head and then rolled his eyes up with a +dawning smile, as one who sees a vision of ultimate bliss. + +"Let one of the other boys catch my hoss out of the corral every morning +and saddle him for me for a month." + +"It's a bargain. What'll you do with that time?" + +"Sit on the fence and roll a cigarette like a blasted gentleman and damn +the eyes of the feller that's catchin' my hoss." + +"And me," said Calamity Ben, "what do I get?" + +"You get orders," answered Kilrain, "from me." + +Calamity regarded him, uncertain whether or not to fight out the point, +but apparently decided that the effort was not worth while. + +"There ain't going to be no luck come out of this," he said darkly. +"Before this tenderfoot gets out of the house, we're all going to wish +he was in hell." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +"SAM'L HALL" + +But with the stage set and the curtain ready to rise on the farce, the +audience did not arrive until the shadow of the evening blotted the +windows of the office where big Lawlor waited impatiently, rehearsing +his part; but when the lamp had been lighted, as though that were a +signal for which the tenderfoot had waited, came a knock at the door of +the room, and then it was jerked open and the head of one of the +cowpunchers was inserted. + +"He's coming!" + +The head disappeared; the door slammed. Lawlor stretched both arms wide, +shifted his belt, loosened his gun in the holster for the fiftieth time, +and exhaled a long breath. Once more the door jerked open, and this time +it was the head and sullen face of Nash, enlivened now by a peculiarly +unpleasant smile. + +"He's here!" + +As the door closed the grim realization came to Lawlor that he could +not face the tenderfoot--his staring eyes and his pallor would betray +him even if the jerking of his hands did not. He swung about in the +comfortable chair, seized a book and whisking it open bowed his head to +read. All that he saw was a dance of irregular black lines: voices +sounded through the hall outside. + +"Sure, he'll see you," Calamity Ben was saying. "And if you want to put +up for the night there ain't nobody more hospital than the Chief. Right +in here, son." + +The door yawned. He could not see, for his back was resolutely toward it +and he was gripping the cover of the book hard to steady his hands; but +he felt a breath of colder air from the outer hall; he felt above all a +new presence peering in upon him, like a winter-starved lynx that might +flatten its round face against the window and peer in at the lazy warmth +and comfort of the humans around the hearth inside. Some such feeling +sent a chill through Lawlor's blood. + +"Hello!" called Calamity Ben. + +"Humph!" grunted Lawlor. + +"Got a visitor, Mr. Drew." + +"Bring him in." + +And Lawlor cleared his throat. + +"All right, here he is." + +The door closed, and Lawlor snapped the book shut. + +"Drew!" said a low voice. + +The cowpuncher turned in his chair. He had intended to rise, but at the +sound of that controlled menace he knew that his legs were too weak to +answer that purpose. What he saw was a slender fellow, who stood with +his head somewhat lowered while his eyes peered down from under +contracted brows, as though the light were hurting them. His feet were +braced apart and his hands dropped lightly on his hips--the very picture +of a man ready to spring into action. + +Under the great brush of his moustache, Lawlor set his teeth, but he was +instantly at ease; for if the sight of the stranger shook him to the +very centre, the other was even more obviously shocked by what he saw. +The hands dropped limp from his hips and dangled idly at his sides; his +body straightened almost with a jerk, as though he had been struck +violently, and now, instead of that searching look, he was blinking down +at his host. Lawlor rose and extended a broad hand and an even broader +smile; he was proud of the strength which had suddenly returned to his +legs. + +"H'ware ye, stranger? Sure glad to see you." + +The other accepted the proffered hand automatically, like one moving in +a dream. + +"Are you Drew?" + +"Sure am." + +"William Drew?" + +He still held the hand as if he were fearful of the vision escaping +without that sensible bondage. + +"William Drew is right. Sit down. Make yourself to home." + +"Thanks!" breathed the other and as if that breath expelled with it all +his strength he slumped into a chair and sat with a fascinated eye glued +to his host. + +Lawlor had time to mark now the signs of long and severe travelling +which the other bore, streaks of mud that disfigured him from heel to +shoulder; and his face was somewhat drawn like a man who has gone to +work fasting. + +"William Drew!" he repeated, more to himself than to Lawlor, and the +latter formed a silent prayer of gratitude that he was _not_ William +Drew. + +"I'm forgetting myself," went on the tenderfoot, with a ghost of a +smile. "My name is Bard--Anthony Bard." + +His glance narrowed again, and this time Lawlor, remembering his part, +pretended to start with surprise. + +"Bard?" + +"Yes. Anthony Bard." + +"Glad to know you. You ain't by any chance related to a John Bard?" + +"Why?" + +"Had a partner once by that name. Good old John Bard!" + +He shook his head, as though overcome by recollections. + +"I've heard something about you and your partner, Mr. Drew." + +"Yes?" + +"In fact, it seems to be a rather unusual story." + +"Well, it ain't common. John Bard! I'll tell the world there was a man." + +"Yes, he was." + +"What's that?" + +"He must have been," answered Anthony, "from all that I've heard of him. +I'm interested in what I scrape together about him. You see, he carries +the same name." + +"That's nacheral. How long since you ate?" + +"Last night." + +"The hell! Starved?" + +"Rather." + +"It's near chow-time. Will you eat now or wait for the reg'lar spread?" + +"I think I can wait, thank you." + +"A little drink right now to help you along, eh?" He strode over and +opened the door. "Hey! Shorty!" + +For answer there came only the wail of an old pirate song. + + + "Oh, my name's Sam'l Hall--Sam'l Hall; + My name's Sam'l Hall--Sam'l Hall. + My name is Sam'l Hall, + And I hate you one an' all, + You're a gang of muckers all-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Listen!" said Lawlor, turning to his guest with a deprecating wave of +the hand. "A cook what sings! Which in the old days I wouldn't have had +a bum like that around my place, but there ain't no choosin' now." + +The voice from the kitchen rolled out louder: + + + "I killed a man, they said, so they said; + I killed a man, they said, so they said. + I killed a man they said, + For I hit 'im on the head, + And I left him there for dead-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Hey! Shorty Kilrain!" bellowed the aggravated host. + +He turned to Bard. + +"What'd you do with a bum like that for a cook?" + +"Pay him wages and keep him around to sing songs. I like this one. +Listen!" + + + "They put me in the quad--in the quad; + They put me in the quad--in the quad. + They put me in the quad, + They chained me to a rod, + And they left me there, by God-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Kilrain, come here and make it fast or I'll damn your eyes!" + +He explained to Bard: "Got to be hard with these fellers or you never +get nowhere with 'em." + +"Yo ho!" answered the voice of the singer, and approached booming: + + + "The parson he did come, he did come; + The parson he did come--did come. + The parson he did come, + He looked almighty glum, + He talked of kingdom come--. + Damn your eyes!" + + +Shorty loomed in the doorway and caught his hand to his forehead in a +nautical salute. He had one bad eye, and now it squinted as villainously +as if he were the real _Sam'l Hall_. + +"Righto sir. What'll you have, mate?" + +"Don't mate me, you igner'nt sweepin' of the South Sea, but trot up some +red-eye--and gallop." + +The ex-sailor shifted his quid so that it stuck far out in the opposite +cheek with such violence of pressure that a little spot of white +appeared through the tan of the skin. He regarded Lawlor for a silent +moment with bodeful eyes. + +"What the hell are you lookin' at?" roared the other. "On your way!" + +The features of Kilrain twitched spasmodically. + +"Righto, sir." + +Another salute, and he was off, his voice coming back less and less +distinctly. + + + "So up the rope I'll go, I will go; + So up the rope I'll go--I'll go. + So up the rope I'll go + With the crowd all down below + Yelling, 'Sam, I told you so!' + Damn their eyes!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +HAIR LIKE THE SUNSHINE + +"Well," grumbled Lawlor, settling back comfortably into his chair, "one +of these days I'm goin' to clean out my whole gang and put in a new one. +They maybe won't be any better but they can't be any wuss." + +Nevertheless, he did not seem in the least downhearted, but apparently +had some difficulty in restraining his broad grin. + +The voice of the grim cook returned: + + + "I'll see Nelly in the crowd, in the crowd; + I'll see Nelly in the crowd, in the crowd; + I'll see Nelly in the crowd, + And I'll holler to her loud: + 'Hey, Nelly, ain't you proud-- + Damn your eyes?'" + + +"I ask you," cried Lawlor, with freshly risen wrath, "is that any way to +go around talkin' about women?" + +"Not talking. He's singing," answered Bard. "Let him alone." + +The thunder of their burly Ganymede's singing rose and echoed about +them. + + + "And this shall be my knell, be my knell; + And this shall be my knell--my knell. + And this shall be my knell: + 'Sam, I hope you go to hell, + Sam, I hope you sizzle well-- + Damn your eyes!'" + + +Shorty Kilrain appeared in the doorway, his mouth wide on the last, +long, wailing note. + +"Shorty," said Lawlor, with a sort of hopeless sadness, "ain't you never +been educated to sing no better songs than that?" + +"Why, you old, grey-headed--" began Shorty, and then stopped short and +hitched his trousers violently. + +Lawlor pushed the bottle of whisky and glass toward Bard. + +"Help yourself." And to Kilrain, who was leaving the room: "Come back +here." + +"Well?" snarled the sailor, half turning at the door. + +"While I'm runnin' this here ranch you're goin' to have manners, see?" + +"If manners was like your whiskers," said the unabashed Shorty, "it'd +take me nigh onto thirty years to get 'em." + +And he winked at Bard for sympathy. + +Lawlor smashed his fist on the table. + +"What I say is, are you running this ranch or am I?" + +"Well?" growled Kilrain. + +"If you was a kid you'd have your mouth washed out with soap." + +The eyes of Shorty bulged. + +"It ought to be done now, but there ain't no one I'd give such dirty +work to. What you're going to do is stand right here and show us you +know how to sing a decent song in a decent way. That there song of yours +didn't leave nothin' sacred untouched, from parsons and jails to women +and the gallows. Stand over there and sing." + +The eyes of the sailor filmed over with cold hate. + +"Was I hired to punch cattle," he said, "or make a blasted, roarin' fool +out of myself?" + +"You was hired," answered Lawlor softly, as he filled his glass to the +brim with the old rye whisky, "to be a cook, and you're the rottenest +hash-slinger that ever served cold dough for biscuits; a blasted, +roarin' fool you've already made out of yourself by singin' that song. I +want another one to get the sound of that out of my ears. Tune up!" + +Thoughts of murder, ill-concealed, whitened the face of the sailor. + +"Some day--" he began hoarsely, and then stopped. For a vision came to +him of blithe mornings when he should sit on the top of the corral fence +rolling a cigarette, while some other puncher went into the herd and +roped and saddled his horse. + +"D'you mean this--Drew?" he asked, with an odd emphasis. + +"D'you think I'm talking for fun?" + +"What'll I sing?" he asked in a voice which was reduced to a faint +whisper by rage. + +"I dunno," mused Lawlor, "but maybe it ought to lie between 'Alice, Ben +Bolt,' and 'Annie Laurie.' What d'you choose, partner?" + +He turned to Bard. + +"'Alice, Ben Bolt,' by all means. I don't think he could manage the +Scotch." + +"Start!" commanded Lawlor. + +The sailor closed his eyes, tilted back his head, twisted his face to a +hideous grimace, and then opening his shapeless mouth emitted a +tremendous wail which took shape in the following words: + + + "Oh, don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, + Sweet Alice, with hair like the sunshine--" + + +"Shut up!" roared Lawlor. + +It required a moment for Shorty to unkink the congested muscles of his +face. + +"What the hell's the matter now?" he inquired. + +"Whoever heard of 'hair like the sunshine'? There ain't no such thing +possible. 'Hair so brown,' that's what the song says. Shorty, we got +more feelin' for our ears than to let you go on singin' an' showin' your +ignerance. G'wan back to the kitchen!" + +Kilrain drew a long breath, regarded Lawlor again with that considerate, +expectant eye, and then turned on his heel and strode from the room. +Back to Bard came fragments of tremendous cursing of an epic breadth and +a world-wide inclusiveness. + +"Got to do things like this once in a while to keep 'em under my thumb," +Lawlor explained genially. + +With all his might Bard was struggling to reconcile this big-handed +vulgarian with his mental picture of the man who could write for an +epitaph: "Here sleeps Joan, the wife of William Drew. She chose this +place for rest." But the two ideas were not inclusive. + +He said aloud: "Aren't you afraid that that black-eyed fellow will run a +knife between your ribs one of these dark nights?" + +"Who? My ribs?" exclaimed Lawlor, nevertheless stirring somewhat +uneasily in his chair. "Nope, they know that I'm William Drew. They may +be hard, but they know I'm harder." + +"Oh," drawled the other, and his eyes held with uncomfortable steadiness +on the rosy face of Lawlor. "I understand." + +To cover his confusion Lawlor seized his glass. + +"Here's to you--drinkin' deep." + +And he tossed off the mighty potion. Bard had poured only a few drops +into his glass; he had too much sympathy for his empty stomach to do +more. His host leaned back, coughing, with tears of pleasure in his +eyes. + +"Damn me!" he breathed reverently. "I ain't touched stuff like this in +ten years." + +"Is this a new stock?" inquired Bard, apparently puzzled. + +"This?" said Lawlor, recalling his position with a start. "Sure it is; +brand new. Yep, stuff ain't been in more'n five days. Smooth, ain't it? +Medicine, that's what I call it; a gentleman's drink--goes down like +water." + +Observing a rather quizzical light in the eyes of Bard, he felt that he +had probably been making a few missteps, and being warmed greatly at the +heart by the whisky, he launched forth in a new phase of the +conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +"THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON" + +"Speakin' of hard cattlemen," he said, "I could maybe tell you a few +things, son." + +"No doubt of it," smiled Anthony. "I presume it would take a _very_ hard +man to handle this crowd." + +"Fairly hard," nodded the redoubtable Lawlor, "but they ain't nothin' to +the men that used to ride the range in the old days." + +"No?" + +"Nope. One of them men--why, he'd eat a dozen like Kilrain and think +nothin' of it. Them was the sort I learned to ride the range with." + +"I've heard something about a fight which you and John Bard had against +the Piotto gang. Care to tell me anything of it?" + +Lawlor lolled easily back in his chair and balanced a second large drink +between thumb and forefinger. + +"There ain't no harm in talk, son; sure I'll tell you about it. What +d'you want to know?" + +"The way Bard fought--the way you both fought." + +"Lemme see." + +He closed his eyes like one who strives to recollect; he was, in fact, +carefully recalling the skeleton of facts which Drew had told him +earlier in the day. + +"Six months, me and Bard had been trailin' Piotto, damn his old soul! +Bard--he'd of quit cold a couple of times, but I kept him at it." + +"John Bard would have quit?" asked Anthony softly. + +"Sure. He was a big man, was Bard, but he didn't have none too much +endurance." + +"Go on," nodded Anthony. + +"Six months, I say, we was ridin' day and night and wearin' out a hoss +about every week of that time. Then we got jest a hint from a bartender +that maybe the Piottos was nearby in that section. + +"It didn't need no more than a hint for us to get busy on the trail. We +hit a circle through the mountains--it was over near Twin Rivers where +the ground ain't got a level stretch of a hundred yards in a whole day's +ridin'. And along about evenin' of the second day we come to the house +of Tom Shaw, a squatter. + +"Bard would of passed the house up, because he knew Shaw and said there +wasn't nothin' crooked about him, but I didn't trust nobody in them +days--and I ain't changed a pile since." + +"That," remarked Anthony, "is an example I think I shall follow." + +"Eh?" said Lawlor, somewhat blankly. "Well, we rode up on the blind side +of the house--from the north, see, got off, and sneaked around to the +east end of the shack. The windows was covered with cloths on the +inside, which didn't make me none too sure about Shaw havin' no dealin's +with crooks. It ain't ordinary for a feller to be so savin' on light. +Pretty soon we found a tear in one of the cloths, and lookin' through +that we seen old Piotto sittin' beside Tom Shaw with his daughter on the +other side. + +"We went back to the north side of the house and figured out different +ways of tacklin' the job. There was only the two of us, see, and the +fellers inside that house was all cut out for man-killers. How would you +have gone after 'em, son?" + +"Opened the door, I suppose, and started shooting," said Bard, "if I had +the courage." + +The other stared at him. + +"You heard this story before?" + +"Not this part." + +"Well, that was jest what we done. First off, it sounds like a fool way +of tacklin' them; but when you think twice it was the best of all. They +never was expectin' anybody fool enough to walk right into that room and +start fightin'. We went back and had a look at the door. + +"It wasn't none too husky. John Bard, he tried the latch, soft, but the +thing was locked, and when he pulled there was a snap. + +"'Who's there?' hollers someone inside. + +"We froze ag'in' the side of the house, lookin' at each other pretty +sick. + +"'Nobody's there,' sings out the voice of old Piotto. 'We can trust Tom +Shaw, jest because he knows that if he double-crossed us he'd be the +first man to die.' + +"And we heard Tom say, sort of quaverin': 'God's sake, boys, what d'you +think I am?' + +"'Now,' says Bard, and we put our shoulders to the door, and takes our +guns in our hands--we each had two. + +"The door went down like nothin', because we was both husky fellers in +them days, and as she smashed in the fall upset two of the boys sittin' +closest and gave 'em no chance on a quick draw. The rest of 'em was too +paralyzed at first, except old Piotto. He pulled his gun, but what he +shot was Tom Shaw, who jest leaned forward in his chair and crumpled up +dead. + +"We went at 'em, pumpin' lead. It wasn't no fight at first and half of +'em was down before they had their guns workin'. But when the real hell +started it wasn't no fireside story, I'll tell a man. We had the jump on +'em, but they meant business. I dropped to the floor and lay on my side, +shootin'; Bard, he followered suit. They went down like tenpins till our +guns were empty. Then we up and rushed what was left of 'em--Piotto and +his daughter. Bard makes a pass to knock the gun out of the hand of Joan +and wallops her on the head instead. Down she goes. I finished Piotto +with my bare hands." + +"Broke his back, eh?" + +"Me? Whoever heard of breakin' a man's back? Ha, ha, ha! You been +hearin' fairy tales, son. Nope, I choked the old rat." + +"Were you badly hurt?" + +Lawlor searched his memory hastily; there was no information on this +important point. + +"Couple of grazes," he said, dismissing the subject with a tolerant wave +of the hand. "Nothin' worth talkin' of." + +"I see," nodded Bard. + +It occurred to Lawlor that his guest was taking the narrative in a +remarkably philosophic spirit. He reviewed his telling of the story +hastily and could find nothing that jarred. + +He concluded: "That was the way of livin' in them days. They ain't no +more--they ain't no more!" + +"And now," said Anthony, "the only excitement you get is out of +books--and running the labourers?" + +He had picked up the book which Lawlor had just laid down. + +"Oh, I read a bit now and then," said the cowpuncher easily, "but I +ain't much on booklearnin'." + +Bard was turning the pages slowly. The title, whose meaning dawned +slowly on his astonished mind as a sunset comes in winter over a grey +landscape, was The Critique of Pure Reason. He turned the book over and +over in his hands. It was well thumbed. + +He asked, controlling his voice: "Are you fond of Kant?" + +"Eh?" queried the other. + +"Fond of this book?" + +"Yep, that's one of my favourites. But I ain't much on any books." + +"However," said Bard, "the story of this is interesting." + +"It is. There's some great stuff in it," mumbled Lawlor, trying to +squint at the title, which he had quite overlooked during the daze in +which he first picked it up. + +Bard laid the book aside and out of sight. + +"And I like the characters, don't you? Some very close work done with +them." + +"Yep, there's a lot of narrow escapes." + +"Exactly. I'm glad that we agree about books." + +"So'm I. Feller can kill a lot of time chinning about books." + +"Yes, I suppose a good many people have killed time over this book." + +And as he smiled genially upon the cowpuncher, Bard felt a great relief +sweep over him, a mighty gladness that this was not Drew--that this +looselipped gabbler was not the man who had written the epitaph over the +tomb of Joan Piotto. He lied about the book; he had lied about it all. +And knowing that this was not Drew, he felt suddenly as if someone were +watching him from behind, someone large and grey and stern of eye, like +the giant who had spoken to him so long before in the arena at Madison +Square Garden. + +A game was being played with him, and behind that game must be Drew +himself; all Bard could do was to wait for developments. + +The familiar, booming voice of Shorty Kilrain echoed through the house: +"Supper!" + +And the loud clangour of a bell supported the invitation. + +"Chow-time," breathed Lawlor heavily, like one relieved at the end of a +hard shift of work. "I figure you ain't sorry, son?" + +"No," answered Bard, "but it's too bad to break off this talk. I've +learned a lot." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +THE STAGE + +"You first," said Lawlor at the door. + +"I've been taught to let an older man go first," said Bard, smiling +pleasantly. "After you, sir." + +"Any way you want it, Bard," answered Lawlor, but as he led the way down +the hall he was saying to himself, through his stiffly mumbling lips: +"He knows! Calamity was right; there's going to be hell poppin' before +long." + +He lengthened his stride going down the long hall to the dining-room, +and entering, he found the cowpunchers about to take their places around +the big table. Straight toward the head to the big chair he stalked, and +paused an instant beside little Duffy. Their interchange of whispers was +like a muffled rapid-fire, for they had to finish before young Bard, now +just entering the room, could reach them and take his designated chair +at the right of Lawlor. + +"He knows," muttered Lawlor. + +"Hell! Then it's all up?" + +"No; keep bluffin'; wait. How's everything?" + +"Gregory ain't come in, but Drew may put him wise before he gets inside +the house." + +"You done all I could expect," said Lawlor aloud as Bard came up, "but +to-morrow go back on the same job and try to get something definite." + +To Bard: "Here's your place, partner. Just been tellin' Duffy, there on +your right, about some work. Some of the doggies have been rustled +lately and we're on their trail." + +They took their places, and Bard surveyed the room carefully, as an +actor who stands in the wings and surveys the stage on which he is soon +to step and play a great part; for in Anthony there was a gathering +sense of impending disaster and action. What he saw was a long, low +apartment, the bare rafters overhead browned by the kitchen smoke, which +even now was rolling in from the wide door at the end of the room--the +thick, oily smoke of burnt meat mingled with steam and the nameless +vapours of a great oven. + +There was no semblance of a decoration on the walls; the boards were not +even painted. It was strictly a place for use, not pleasure. The food +itself which Shorty Kilrain and Calamity Ben now brought on was +distinctly utilitarian rather than appetizing. The pièce de resistance +was a monstrous platter heaped high with beefsteak, not the inviting +meat of a restaurant in a civilized city, but thin, brown slabs, fried +dry throughout. The real nourishment was in the gravy in which the steak +swam. In a dish of even more amazing proportions was a vast heap of +potatoes boiled with their jackets on. Lawlor commenced loading the +stack of plates before him, each with a slab and a potato or two. + +Meantime from a number of big coffee pots a stream of a liquid, bitter as +lye and black as night, was poured into the tin cups. Yet the cattlemen +about the table settled themselves for the meal with a pleasant +expectation fully equal to that of the most seasoned gourmand in a +Manhattan restaurant. + +The peculiar cowboy's squint--a frowning of the brow and a compression +of the thin lips--relaxed. That frown came from the steady effort to +shade the eyes from the white-hot sunlight; the compression of the lips +was due to a determination to admit none of the air, laden with alkali +dust, except through the nostrils. It grew in time into a perpetual +grimace, so that the expression of an old range rider is that of a man +steeling himself to pass through some grim ordeal. + +Now as they relaxed, Anthony perceived first of all that most of the +grimness passed away from the narrowed eyes and they lighted instead +with good-humoured banter, though of a weary nature. One by one, they +cast off ten years of age; the lines rubbed out; the jaws which had +thrust out grew normal; the leaning heads straightened and went back. + +They paid not the slightest attention to the newcomer, talking easily +among themselves, but Anthony was certain that at least some of them +were thinking of him. If they said nothing, their thoughts were the +more. + +In fact, in the meantime little Duffy had passed on to the next man, in +a side mutter, the significant phrase: "He knows!" It went from lip to +lip like a watchword passing along a line of sentinels. Each man heard +it imperturbably, completed the sentence he was speaking before, or +maintained his original silence through a pause, and then repeated it to +his right-hand neighbour. Their demeanour did not alter perceptibly, +except that the laughter, perhaps, became a little more uproarious, and +they were sitting straighter in their chairs, their eyes brighter. + +All they knew was that Drew had impressed on them that Bard must not +leave that room in command of his six-shooter or even of his hands. He +must be bound securely. The working out of the details of execution he +had left to their own ingenuity. It might have seemed a little thing to +do to greener fellows, but every one of these men was an experienced +cowpuncher, and like all old hands on the range they were perfectly +familiar with the amount of damage which a single armed man can do. + +The thing could be done, of course, but the point was to do it with the +minimum of danger. So they waited, and talked, and ate and always from +the corners of their eyes were conscious of the slightly built, +inoffensive man who sat beside Lawlor near the head of the table. In +appearance he was surely most innocuous, but Nash had spoken, and in +such matters they were all willing to take his word with a childlike +faith. + +So the meal went on, and the only sign, to the most experienced eye, was +that the chairs were placed a little far back from the edge of the +table, a most necessary condition when men may have to rise rapidly or +get at their holsters for a quick draw. + +Calamity Ben bearing a mighty dish of bread pudding, passed directly +behind the chair of the stranger. The whole table watched with a sudden +keenness, and they saw Bard turn, ever so slightly, just as Calamity +passed behind the chair. + +"I say," he said, "may I have a bit of hot water to put in this coffee?" + +"Sure," said Calamity, and went on, but the whole table knew that the +stranger was on his guard. + +The mutual suspicion gave a tenseness to the atmosphere, as if it were +charged with the electricity of a coming storm, a tingling waiting which +made the men prone to become silent and then talk again in fitful +outbursts. Or it might be said that it was like a glass full of +precipitate which only waits for the injection of a single unusual +substance before it settles to the bottom and leaves the remaining +liquid clear. It was for the unusual, then, that the entire assembly +waited, feeling momentarily that it must be coming, for the strain could +not endure. + +As for Bard, he stuck by his original apparent indifference. For he +still felt sure that the real William Drew was behind this elaborate +deception and the thing for which he waited was some revelation of the +hand of the master. The trumps which he felt he held was in being +forewarned; he could not see that the others knew his hand. + +He said to Lawlor: "I think a man named Nash works on this ranch. I +expected to see him at supper here." + +"Nash?" answered Lawlor. "Sure, he used to be foreman here. Ain't no +more. Nope--I couldn't stand for his lip. Didn't mind him getting fresh +till he tried to ride me. Then I turned him loose. Where did you meet +him?" + +"While I was riding in this direction." + +"Want to see him bad?" + +The other moistened his lips. + +"Rather! He killed my horse." + +A silence fell on these who were within hearing. They would not have +given equal attention to the story of the killing of a man. + +"How'd he get away with it?" + +"The Saverack was between us. Before I could get my gun out he was +riding out of range. I'll meet him and have another talk some day." + +"Well, the range ain't very small." + +"But my dear fellow, it's not nearly as big as my certainty of meeting +this--cur." + +There is something in a low, slow voice more thrilling than the thunder +of actual rage. Those who heard glanced to one another with thoughtful +eyes. They were thinking of Nash, and thinking of him with sympathy. + +Little Duffy, squat and thick-set, felt inspiration descend on him. He +turned to Bard on his left. + +"That ain't a full-size forty-five, is it--that one you're packin'?" + +"Doesn't it look it?" answered Bard. + +"Nope. Holster seems pretty small to me." + +"It's the usual gun, I'm sure," said Bard, and pulled the weapon from +the leather. + +Holding the butt loosely, his trigger finger hooked clear around the far +side of the guard, he showed the gun. + +"I was wrong," nodded Duffy unabashed, "that's the regular kind. Let's +have a look at it." + +And he stretched out his hand. No one would ever have guessed how +closely the table followed what now happened, for each man began talking +in a voice even louder than before. It was as if they sought to cover +the stratagem of Duffy with their noise. + +"There's nothing unusual about the gun," said Bard, "but I'd be glad to +let you have it except that I've formed a habit of never letting a +six-shooter get away from me. It's a foolish habit, I know, but I can't +lose it. If there's any part you'd like to see, just name it." + +"Thanks," answered Duffy. "I guess I've seen all I want of it." + +Calamity had failed; Duffy had failed. It began to look as if force of +downright numbers must settle the affair. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +SALLY BREAKS A MIRROR + +As Sally had remarked the night before, one does not pay much attention +to a toilet when one rises at 5 a.m. At least that is the rule, but +Sally, turning out with a groan in the chill, dark room, shut off the +alarm, lighted her lamp, and set about the serious task of dressing. A +woman, after all, is much like a diplomatic statesman; a hint along +certain lines is more to her than a sworn statement. + +She had secured a large mirror, and in front of this she laboured +patiently for a full ten minutes, twisting her hair this way and that, +and using the comb and brush vigorously. Now and then, as she worked, +she became aware that a fluff of hair rolling down low over her forehead +did amazing things to her face and brought her from Sally Fortune into +the strange dignity of a "lady." But she could not complete any of the +manoeuvres, no matter how promisingly they started. In the end she +dashed a handful of hairpins on the floor and wound the hair about her +head with a few swift turns. + +She studied the sullen, boyish visage which looked back at her. After +all, she would be unmercifully joked if she were to appear with her hair +grown suddenly fluffy and womanly--it would become impossible for her to +run the eating-place without the assistance of a man, and a fighting man +at that. So what was the use? She threw the mirror crashing on the +floor; it splintered in a thousand pieces. + +"After all," she murmured aloud, "do I want to be a woman?" + +The sullen mouth undoubtedly answered "No"; the wistful eyes undoubtedly +replied in another key. She shrugged the question away and stepped out +of her room toward the kitchen, whistling a tune to raise her spirits. + +"Late, Sally," said the cook, tossing another hot cake on the growing +pile which surmounted the warmer. + +"Sure; I busted my mirror," said Sally. + +The cook stared at her in such astonishment that he allowed a quantity +of dough to fall from the dish cupped in the hollow of his arm; it +overflowed the griddle-iron. + +"Blockhead!" shouted Sally. "Watch your step!" + +She resumed, when the dough had been rescued by somewhat questionable +means: "D'you think a girl can dress in the dark?" + +But the cook had had too much experience with his employer to press what +seemed a tender point. He confined his attention to the pancakes. + +"There ain't no fool worse than a he-fool," continued Sally bitterly. +"Which maybe you think a girl can dress without a mirror?" + +Since this taunt brought no response from her victim, she went on into +the eating-room. It was already filling, and the duties of her strenuous +day began. + +They continued without interruption hour after hour, for the popularity +of her restaurant had driven all competition out of Eldara, a result +which filled the pocket-book and fattened the bank account of Sally +Fortune, but loaded unnumbered burdens onto her strong shoulders. For +she could not hire a waiter to take her place; every man who came into +the eating-room expected to be served by the slim hands of Sally +herself, and he expected also some trifling repartee which would make +him pay his bill with a grin. + +The repartee dragged with Sally to-day, almost to sullenness, and when +she began to grow weary in the early afternoon, there was no reserve +strength on which she could fall back. She suddenly became aware that +she wanted support, aid, comfort. Finally she spilled a great armful of +"empties" down on the long drain-board of the sink, turned to the wall, +and buried her face in her hands. The cook, Bert, though he cast a +startled glance at her would not have dared to speak, after that +encounter of the morning, but a rather explosive sniff was too eloquent +an appeal to his manliness. + +His left sleeve having fallen, he rolled it back, tied the strings of +the apron tighter about his plump middle, and advanced to the battle. +His hand touched the shoulder of the girl. + +"Sally!" + +"Shut your face!" moaned a stifled voice. + +But he took his courage between his teeth and persisted. + +"Sally, somethin' is wrong." + +"Nothin' you can right, Fatty," said the same woe-stricken voice. + +"Sally, if somebody's been gettin' fresh with you--" + +Her arms jerked down; she whirled and faced him with clenched fists; +her eyes shining more brightly for the mist which was in them. + +"Fresh with me? Why, you poor, one-horned yearling, d'you think there's +anybody in Eldara man enough to get fresh with me?" + +Bert retreated a step; caution was a moving element in his nature. From +a vantage point behind a table, however, he ventured: "Then what is +wrong?" + +Her woe, apparently, was greater than her wrath. + +She said sadly: "I dunno, Bert. I ain't the man I used to be--I mean, +the woman." + +He waited, his small eyes gentle. What woman can altogether resist +sympathy, even from a fat man and a cook? Not even the redoubtable soul +of a Sally. + +She confessed: "I feel sort of hollow and gone--around the stomach, +Fatty." + +"Eat," suggested the cook. "I just took out a pie that would--" + +"But it ain't the stomach. It's like bein' hungry and wantin' no food. +Fatty, d'you think I'm sick?" + +"You look kind of whitish." + +"Fatty, I feel--" + +She hesitated, as though too great a confession were at her lips, but +she stumbled on: "I feel as if I was afraid of somethin', or someone." + +"That," said Bert confidently, "ain't possible. It's the stomach, Sally. +Something ain't agreed with you." + +She turned from him with a vague gesture of despair. + +"If this here feelin' is goin' to keep up--why, I wisht I was dead--I +wisht I was dead!" + +She went on to the swinging door, paused there to dab her eyes swiftly, +started to whistle a tune, and in this fashion marched back to the +eating-room. Fatty, turning back to the stove, shook his head; he was +more than ever convinced in his secret theory that all women are crazy. + +Sally found that a new man had entered, one whom she could not remember +having seen before. She went to him at once, for it seemed to her that +she would die, indeed, if she had to look much longer on the familiar, +unshaven faces of the other men in the room. + +"Anything you got," said the stranger, who was broad of hands and thick +of neck and he cast an anxious eye on her. "I hear you seen something of +a thinnish, dark feller named Bard." + +"What d'_you_ want with him?" asked Sally with dangerous calm. + +"I was aimin' to meet up with him. That's all." + +"Partner, if you want to stand in solid around here, don't let out that +you're a friend of his. He ain't none too popular; that's straight and +puttin' it nice and easy." + +"Which who said I was his friend?" said the other with heat. + +She turned away to the kitchen and reappeared shortly, bearing his meal. +The frown with which she departed had disappeared, and she was smiling +as brightly as ever while she arranged the dishes in front of him. He +paid no attention to the food. + +"Now," she said, resting both hands on the table and leaning so that she +could look him directly in the eye: "What's Bard done now? +Horse--gun-fighter--woman; which?" + +The other loosened the bandanna which circled his bull neck. + +"Woman," he said hoarsely, and the blood swelled his throat and face +with veins of purple. + +"Ah-h-h," drawled the girl, and straightening, she dropped both hands on +her hips. It was a struggle, but she managed to summon another smile. + +"Wife--sister--sweetheart?" + +The man stared dubiously on her, and Sally, mother to five hundred wild +rangers, knew the symptoms of a man eager for a confidant. She slipped +into the opposite chair. + +"It might be any of the three," she went on gently, "and I know because +I've seen him work." + +"Damn his soul!" growled the other by way of a prefix to his story. "It +ain't any of the three with me. This Bard--maybe he tried his hand with +you?" + +Whether it was rage or scorn that made her start and redden he could not +tell. + +"Me?" she repeated. "A tenderfoot get fresh with me? Stranger, you ain't +been long in Eldara or you wouldn't pull a bonehead like that." + +"'Scuse me. I was hopin' that maybe you took a fall out of him, that's +all." + +He studied the blue eyes. They had been tinted with ugly green a moment +before, but now they were clear, deep, dark, guileless blue. He could +not resist. The very nearness of the woman was like a gentle, cool hand +caressing his forehead and rubbing away the troubles. + +"It was like this," he began. "Me and Lizzie had been thick for a couple +of years and was jest waitin' till I'd corralled enough cash for a +start. Then the other day along comes this feller Bard with a queer way +of talkin' school language. Made you feel like you was readin' a bit out +of a dictionary jest to listen to him for a minute. Liz, she never +heard nothin' like it, I figure. She got all eyes and sat still and +listened. Bein' like that he plumb made a fool out of Liz. Kidded her +along and wound up by kissing her good-bye. I didn't see none of this; I +jest heard about it later. When I come up and started talkin' jest +friendly with Liz she got sore and passed me the frosty stare. I didn't +think she could be doin' more than kiddin' me a bit, so I kept right on +and it ended up with Liz sayin' that all was over between us." + +He paused on his tragedy, set his teeth over a sigh, and went on: "The +feller ain't no good. I know that from a chap that come to the house a +few hours after Bard left. Nash was his name--" + +"What!" + +"Nash. Feller built husky around the shoulders--looks like a fighter. +Know him?" + +"Pretty well. D'you say he come to your house right after Bard left it?" + +"Yep. Why?" + +"How long ago was this?" + +"About three days." + +"Three days?" + +"What's wrong?" + +"Nothin'." + +"You look like you was goin' to murder some one, lady." + +Her laughter ended with a jerk and jar. + +"Maybe I am. G'wan! Tell me some more about what Nash said." + +"Why, he didn't say much. Hinted around that maybe Bard had walked off +with the piebald hoss he was ridin'." + +"That's a lie." + +"Lady," said the other a little coldly, "you say that like you was a +friend of Bard's." + +"Me? There ain't nobody around these parts man enough to say to my face +that I'm a friend of that tenderfoot." + +"I'm glad of that. My name's Ralph Boardman." + +"I'm Sally Fortune." + +"Sure; I've heard of you--a lot. Say, you couldn't tip me off where I +could hit the trail of Bard?" + +"Dunno. Wait; lemme see." + +She studied, with closed eyes. What she was thinking was that if Nash +had been so close to Bard three days before he was surely on the trail +of the tenderfoot and certainly that meeting in her place had not been a +casual one. She set her teeth, thinking of the promise Nash had given to +her. Undoubtedly he had laughed at it afterward. And now Bard probably +lay stretched on his back somewhere among the silent hills looking up to +the pitiless brightness of the sky with eyes which could never shut. + +The hollow feeling of which Sally had complained to Bert grew to a +positive ache, and the tears stood up closer to her eyes. + +"Wait around town," she said in a changed voice. "I think I heard him +say something of riding out, but he'll be back before long. That's the +only tip I can give you, partner." + +So she rose and hurried back to the kitchen. + +"Bert," she said, "I'm off for the rest of the day. You got to handle +the place." + +He panted: "But the heavy rush--it ain't started yet." + +"It's started for me." + +"What d'you mean?" + +"Nothin'. I'm on my way. S'long, Bert. Back in the mornin' bright and +early." + +If she could not find Bard at least she could find Nash at the ranch of +Drew, and in that direction she headed her racing horse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +THE SHOW + +Jansen, the big Swede, was the first to finish his meal in Drew's +dining-room. For that matter, he was always first. He ate with +astonishing expedition, lowering his head till that tremendous, +shapeless mouth was close to the plate and then working knife and fork +alternately with an unfaltering industry. To-night, spurred on by a +desire to pass through this mechanical effort and be prepared for the +coming action, his speed was something truly marvellous. He did not +appear to eat; the food simply vanished from the plate; it was absorbed +like a mist before the wind. While the others were barely growing +settled in their places, Jansen was already through. + +He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, produced Durham and papers, +and proceeded to light up. Lawlor, struggling still to re-establish +himself in the eyes of Bard as the real William Drew, seized the +opportunity to exert a show of authority. He smashed his big fist on +the table. + +"Jansen!" he roared. + +"Eh?" grunted the Swede. + +"Where was you raised?" + +"Me?" + +"You, square-head." + +"Elvaruheimarstadhaven." + +"Are you sneezin' or talkin' English?" + +Jansen, irritated, bellowed: "Elvaruheimarstadhaven! That's where I was +born." + +"That's where you was born? Elvaru--damn such a language! No wonder you +Swedes don't know nothin'. It takes all your time learnin' how to talk +your lingo. But if you ain't never had no special trainin' in manners, +I'm goin' to make a late start with you now. Put out that cigarette!" + +The pale eyes of Jansen stared, fascinated; the vast mouth fell agape. + +"Maybe," he began, and then finished weakly: "I be damned!" + +"There ain't no reasonable way of doubtin' that unless you put out that +smoke. Hear me?" + +Shorty Kilrain, coming from the kitchen, grinned broadly. Having felt +the lash of discipline himself, he was glad to see it fall in another +place. He continued his gleeful course around that side of the table. + +And big Jansen slowly, imperturbably, raised the cigarette and inhaled a +mighty cloud of smoke which issued at once in a rushing, fine blue mist, +impelled by a snort. + +"Maybe," he rumbled, completing his thought, "maybe you're one damn +fool!" + +"I'm going to learn you who's boss in these parts," boomed Lawlor. "Put +out that cigarette! Don't you know no better than to smoke at the +table?" + +Jansen pushed back his chair and started to rise. There was no doubt as +to his intentions; they were advertised in the dull and growing red +which flamed in his face. But Kilrain, as though he had known such a +moment would come, caught the Swede by the shoulders and forced him back +into the chair. As he did so he whispered something in the ear of +Jansen. + +"Let him go!" bellowed Lawlor. "Let him come on. Don't hold him. I ain't +had work for my hands for five years. I need exercise, I do." + +The mouth of Jansen stirred, but no words came. A hopeless yearning was +in his eyes. But he dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel. + +"I thought," growled Lawlor, "that you knew your master, but don't make +no mistake again. Speakin' personal, I don't think no more of knockin' +down a Swede than I do of flickin' the ashes off'n a cigar." + +He indulged in a side glance at Bard to see if the latter were properly +impressed, but Anthony was staring blankly straight before him, unable, +to all appearances, to see anything of what was happening. + +"Kilrain," went on Lawlor, "trot out some cigars. You know where they're +kept." + +Kilrain falling to the temptation, asked: "Where's the key to the +cabinet?" + +For Drew kept his tobacco in a small cabinet, locked because of long +experience with tobacco-loving employees. Lawlor started to speak, +checked himself, fumbled through his pockets, and then roared: "Smash +the door open. I misplaced the key." + +No semblance of a smile altered the faces of the cowpunchers around the +table, but glances of vague meaning were interchanged. Kilrain +reappeared almost at once, bearing a large box of cigars under each arm. + +"The eats bein' over," announced Lawlor, "we can now light up. Open them +boxes, Shorty. Am I goin' to work on you the rest of my life teachin' +you how to serve cigars?" + +Kilrain sighed deeply, but obeyed, presenting the open boxes in turn to +Bard, who thanked him, and to Lawlor, who bit off the end of his smoke +continued: "A match, Kilrain." + +And he waited, swelling with pleasure, his eyes fixed upon space. +Kilrain lighted a match and held it for the two in turn. Two rows of +waiting, expectant eyes were turned from the whole length, of the table, +toward the cigars. + +"Shall I pass on the cigars?" suggested Bard. + +"_These_ smokes?" breathed Lawlor. "Waste 'em on common hands? Partner, +you ain't serious, are you?" + +A breath like the faint sighing of wind reached them; the cowpunchers +were resigned, and started now to roll their Durham. But it seemed as if +a chuckle came from above; it was only some sound in the gasoline lamp, +a big fixture which hung suspended by a slender chain from the centre of +the ceiling and immediately above the table. + +"Civilizin' cowpunchers," went on Lawlor, tilting back in his chair and +bracing his feet against the edge of the table, "civilizin' cowpunchers +is worse'n breakin' mustangs. They's some that say it can't be done. +But look at this crew. Do they look like rough uns?" + +A stir had passed among the cowpunchers and solemn stares of hate +transfixed Lawlor, but he went on: "I'm askin' you, do these look +rough?" + +"I should say," answered Bard courteously, "that you have a pretty +experienced lot of cattle-men." + +"Experienced? Well, they'll pass. They've had experience with bar whisky +and talkin' to their cards at poker, but aside from bein' pretty much +drunks and crookin' the cards, they ain't anything uncommon. But when I +got 'em they was wild, they was. Why, if I'd talked like this in front +of 'em they'd of been guns pulled. But look at 'em now. I ask you: Look +at 'em now! Ain't they tame? They hear me call 'em what they are, but +they don't even bat an eye. Yes, sir, I've tamed 'em. They took a lot of +lickin', but now they're tamed. Hello!" + +For through the door stalked a newcomer. He paused and cast a curious +eye up the table to Lawlor. + +"What the hell!" he remarked naively. "Where's the chief?" + +"Fired!" bellowed Lawlor without a moment of hesitation. + +"Who fired him?" asked the new man, with an expectant smile, like one +who waits for the point of a joke, but he caught a series of strange +signals from men at the table and many a broad wink. + +"I fired him, Gregory," answered Lawlor. "I fired Nash!" + +He turned to Bard. + +"You see," he said rather weakly, "the boys is used to callin' Nash 'the +chief.'" + +"Ah, yes," said Bard, "I understand." + +And Lawlor felt that he did understand, and too well. + +Gregory, in the meantime, silenced by the mysterious signs from his +fellow cowpunchers, took his place and began eating without another +word. No one spoke to him, but as if he caught the tenseness of the +situation, his eyes finally turned and glanced up the table to Bard. + +It was easy for Anthony to understand that glance. It is the sort of +look which the curious turn on the man accused of a great crime and +sitting in the court room guilty. His trial in silence had continued +until he was found guilty. Apparently, he was now to be both judged and +executed at the same time. + +There could not be long delay. The entrance of Gregory had almost been +the precipitant of action, and though it had been smoothed over to an +extent, still the air was each moment more charged with suspense. The +men were lighting their second cigarette. With each second it grew +clearer that they were waiting for something. And as if thoughtful of +the work before them, they no longer talked so fluently. + +Finally there was no talk at all, save for sporadic outbursts, and the +blue smoke and the brown curled up slowly in undisturbed drifts toward +the ceiling until a bright halo formed around the gasoline lamp. A +childish thought came to Bard that where the smoke was so thick the fire +could not be long delayed. + +A second form appeared in the doorway, lithe, graceful, and the light +made her hair almost golden. + +"Ev'nin', fellers," called Sally jauntily. "Hello, Lawlor; what you +doin' at the head of the table?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +THE LAMP + +The bluff was ended. It was as if the wind blew a cloud suddenly from +the face of the sun and let the yellow sunlight pour brightly over the +world; so everyone in the room at the voice of Sally knew that the time +had come for action. There was no vocal answer to her, but each man rose +slowly in his place, his gun naked in his hand, and every face was +turned to Bard. + +"Gentlemen," he said in his soft voice, "I see that my friend Lawlor has +not wasted his lessons in manners. At least you know enough to rise when +a lady enters the room." + +His gun, held at the hip, pointed straight down the table to the burly +form of Jansen, but his eyes, like those of a pugilist, seemed to be +taking in every face at the table, and each man felt in some subtle +manner that the danger would fall first on him. They did not answer, but +hands were tightening around revolver butts. + +Lawlor moved back, pace by pace, his revolver shaking in his hand. + +"But," went on Bard, "you are all facing me. Is it possible?" + +He laughed. + +"I knew that Mr. Drew was very anxious to receive me with courtesy; I +did not dream that he would be able to induce so many men to take care +of me." + +And Sally Fortune, bracing herself against the wall with one hand, and +in the capable grasp of the other a six-gun balanced, stared in growing +amazement on the scene, and shuddered at the silences. + +"Bard," she called, "what have I done?" + +"You've started a game," he answered, "which I presume we've all been +waiting to play. What about it, boys? I hope you're well paid; I'd hate +to die a cheap death." + +A voice, deep and ringing, sounded close at hand, almost within the +room, and from a direction which Bard could not locate. + +"Don't harm him if you can help it. But keep him in that room!" + +Bard stepped back a pace till his shoulders touched the wall. + +"Sirs," he said, "if you keep me here you will most certainly have to +harm me." + +A figure ran around the edge of the crowd and stood beside him. + +"Stand clear of me, Sally," he muttered, much moved. "Stand away. This +is a man's work." + +"The work of a pack of coyotes!" she cried shrilly. "What d'ye mean?" + +She turned on them fiercely. + +"Are you goin' to murder a tenderfoot among you? One that ain't done no +real harm? I don't believe my eyes. You, there, Shorty Kilrain, I've +waited on you with my own hands. You've played the man with me. Are you +goin' to play the dog now? Jansen, you was tellin' me about a blue-eyed +girl in Sweden; have you forgot about her now? And Calamity Ben! My God, +ain't there a man among you to step over here and join the two of us?" + +They were shaken, but the memory of Drew quelled them. + +"They's no harm intended him, on my honour, Sally," said Lawlor. "All +he's got to do is give up his gun--and--and"--he finished weakly--"let +his hands be tied." + +"Is that all?" said Sally scornfully. + +"Don't follow me, Sally," said Bard. "Stay out of this. Boys, you may +have been paid high, but I don't think you've been paid high enough to +risk taking a chance with me. If you put me out with the first shot that +ends it, of course, but the chances are that I'll be alive when I hit +the floor, and if I am, I'll have my gun working--and I won't miss. One +or two of you are going to drop." + +He surveyed them with a quick glance which seemed to linger on each +face. + +"I don't know who'll go first. But now I'm going to walk straight for +that door, and I'm going out of it." + +He moved slowly, deliberately toward the door, around the table. Still +they did not shoot. + +"Bard!" commanded the voice which had spoken from nowhere before. "Stop +where you are. Are you fool enough to think that I'll let you go?" + +"Are you William Drew?" + +"I am, and you are----" + +"The son of John Bard. Are you in this house?" + +"I am; Bard, listen to me for thirty seconds----" + +"Not for three. Sally, go out of this room and through that door." + +There was a grim command in his voice. It started her moving against her +will. She paused and looked back with an imploring gesture. + +"Go on," he repeated. + +And she passed out of the door and stood there, a glimmering figure +against the night. Still there was not a shot fired, though all those +guns were trained on Bard. + +"You've got me Drew," he called, "but I've got you, and your +hirelings--all of you, and I'm going to take you to hell with me--to +hell!" + +He jerked his gun up and fired, not at a man, for the bullet struck the +thin chain which held the gasoline lamp suspended, struck it with a +clang, and it rushed down to the table. It struck, but not with the loud +explosion which Bard had expected. There was a dull report, as of a shot +fired at a great distance, the scream of Sally from the door, and then +liquid fire spurted from the lamp across the table, whipped in a flare +to the ceiling, and licked against the walls. It shot to all sides but +it shot high, and every man was down on his face. + +Anthony, scarcely believing that he was still alive, rushed for the +door, with a cry of agony ringing in his ears from the voice beyond the +room. One man in all that crowd was near enough or had the courage to +obey the master even to the uttermost. The gaunt form of Calamity Ben +blocked the doorway in front of Bard, blocked it with poised revolver. + +"Halt!" he yelled. + +But the other rushed on. Calamity whipped down the gun and fired, but +even before the trigger was pulled he was sagging toward the floor, for +Bard had shot to kill. Over the prostrate form of the cowpuncher he +leaped, and into the night, where the white face of Sally greeted him. + +Outside the red inferno of that room, as if the taste of blood had +maddened him, he raised his arms and shouted, like one crying a wild +prayer: "William Drew! William Drew! Come out to me!" + +Small, strong hands gripped his wrists and turned him away from the +house. + +"You fool!" cried Sally. "Ride for it! You've raised your hell at +last--I knew you would!" + +Red light flared in all the windows of the dining-room; shouts and +groans and cursing poured out of them. Bard turned and followed her out +toward the stable on the run, and he heard her moaning as she ran: "I +knew! I knew!" + +She mounted her horse, which was tethered near the barn. He chose at +random the first horse he reached, a grey, threw on his back the saddle +which hung from the peg behind, mounted, and they were off through the +night. No thought, no direction; but only in blind speed there seemed to +be the hope of a salvation. + +A mile, two miles dropped behind them, and then in an open stretch, for +he had outridden her somewhat, Anthony reined back, caught the bridle of +her horse, and pulled it down to a sharp trot. + +"Why have you come?" + +Their faces were so close that even through the night he could see the +grim set of her lips. + +"Ain't you raised your hell--the hell you was hungry to raise? Don't you +need help?" + +"What I've done is my own doing. I'll take the burden of it." + +"You'll take a halter for it, that's what you'll take. The whole +range'll rise for this. You're marked already. Everywhere you've gone +you've made an enemy. They'll be out to get you--Nash--Boardman--the +whole gang." + +"Let 'em come. I'd do this all over again." + +"Born gunman, eh? Bard, you ain't got a week to live." + +It was fierceness; it was a reproach rather than sorrow. + +"Then let me go my own way. Why do you follow, Sally?" + +"D'you know these mountains?" + +"No, but----" + +"Then they'd run you down in twelve hours. Where'll you head for?" + +He said, as the first thought entered his mind: "I'll go for the old +house that Drew has on the other side of the range." + +"That ain't bad. Know the short cut?" + +"What cut?" + +"You can make it in five hours over one trail. But of course you don't +know. Nobody but old Dan and me ever knowed it. Let go my bridle and +ride like hell." + +She jerked the reins away from him and galloped off at full speed. He +followed. + +"Sally!" he called. + +But she kept straight ahead, and he followed, shouting, imploring her to +go back. Finally he settled to the chase, resolved on overtaking her. It +was no easy task, for she rode like a centaur, and she knew the way. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +NASH STARTS THE FINISH + +Through the windows and the door the cowpunchers fled from the red +spurt of the flames, each man for himself, except Shorty Kilrain, who +stooped, gathered the lanky frame of Calamity Ben into his arms, and +staggered out with his burden. The great form of William Drew loomed +through the night. + +His hand on the shoulder of Shorty, he cried: "Is he badly burned?" + +"Shot," said Kilrain bitterly, "by the tenderfoot; done for." + +It was strange to hear the big voice go shrill with pain. + +"Shot? By Anthony? Give him to me." + +Kilrain lowered his burden to the ground. + +"You've got him murdered. Ain't you through with him? Calamity, he was +my pal!" + +But the big man thrust him aside and knelt by the stricken cowpuncher. + +He commanded: "Gather the boys; form a line of buckets from the pump; +fight that fire. It hasn't a hold on the house yet." + +The habit of obedience persisted in Kilrain. Under the glow of the fire, +excited by the red light, the other man stood irresolute, eager for +action, but not knowing what to do. A picture came back to him of a ship +labouring in a storm; the huddling men on the deck; the mate on the +bridge, shrieking his orders through a megaphone. He cupped his hands at +his mouth and began to bark orders. + +They obeyed on the run. Some rushed for the kitchen and secured buckets; +two manned the big pump and started a great gush of water; in a moment a +steady stream was being flung by the foremost men of the line against +the smoking walls and even the ceiling of the dining-room. So far it was +the oil itself, which had made most of the flame and smoke, and now, +although the big table was on fire, the main structure of the house was +hardly touched. + +They caught it in time and worked with a cheer, swinging the buckets +from hand to hand, shouting as the flames fell little by little until +the floor of the room was awash, the walls gave back clouds of steam, +and the only fire was that which smouldered along the ruined table. Even +this went out, hissing, at last, and they came back with blackened, +singed faces to Calamity and Drew. + +The rancher had torn away the coat and shirt of the wounded man, and +now, with much labour, was twisting a tight bandage around his chest. At +every turn Calamity groaned feebly. Kilrain dropped beside his partner, +taking the head between his hands. + +"Calamity--pal," he said, "how'd you let a tenderfoot, a damned +tenderfoot, do this?" + +The other sighed: "I dunno. I had him covered. I should have sent him to +hell. But sure shootin' is better'n fast shootin'. He nailed me fair and +square while I was blockin' him at the door." + +"How d'you feel?" + +"Done for, Shorty, but damned glad that-----" + +His voice died away in a horrible whisper and bubbles of red foam rose +to his lips. + +"God!" groaned Shorty, and then called loudly, as if the strength of his +voice might recall the other, "Calamity!" + +The eyes of Calamity rolled up; the wide lips twisted over formless +words; there was no sound from his mouth. Someone was holding a lantern +whose light fell full on the silent struggle. It was Nash, his habitual +sneer grown more malevolent than ever. + +"What of the feller that done it, Shorty?" he suggested. + +"So help me God," said the cattleman, with surprising softness, "the +range ain't big enough to keep him away from me." + +Drew, completing his bandage, said, "That's enough of such talk, Nash. +Let it drop there. Here, Kilrain, take his feet. Help me into the house +with him." + +They moved in, the rest trailing behind like sheep after a bell-weather, +and it was astonishing to see the care with which big Drew handled his +burden, placing it at last on his own four-poster bed. + +"The old man's all busted up," said little Duffy to Nash. "I'd never of +guessed he was so fond of Calamity." + +"You're a fool," answered Nash. "It ain't Calamity he cares about." + +"Then what the devil is it?" + +"I dunno. We're goin' to see some queer things around here." + +Drew, having disposed of the wounded man, carefully raising his head on +a pillow, turned to the others. + +"Who saw Ben shot?" + +"I did," said Kilrain, who was making his way to the door. + +"Come back here. Are you sure you saw the shot fired?" + +"I seen the tenderfoot--damn his eyes!--whip up his gun and take a snap +shot while he was runnin' for the door where Calamity stood." + +Nash raised his lantern high, so that the light fell full on the face of +Drew. The rancher was more grey than ever. + +He said, with almost an appeal in his voice: "Mightn't it have been one +of the other boys, shooting at random?" + +The tone of Kilrain raised and grew ugly. + +"Are you tryin' to cover the tenderfoot, Drew?" + +The big man made a fierce gesture. + +"Why should I cover him?" + +"Because you been actin' damned queer," answered Nash. + +"Ah, you're here again, Nash? I know you hate Bard because he was too +much for you." + +"He got the start of me, but I'll do a lot of finishing." + +"Kilrain," called Drew, "you're Calamity's best friend. Ride for Eldara +and bring back Dr. Young. Quick! We're going to pull Ben through." + +"Jest a waste of time," said Nash coolly. "He's got one foot in hell +already." + +"You've said too much, Nash. Kilrain, are you going?" + +"I'll stop for the doctor at Eldara, but then I'll keep on riding." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothin'." + +"I'll go with you," said Nash, and turned with the other. + +"Stop!" called Drew. "Boys, I know what you have planned; but let the +law take care of this. Remember that we were the aggressors against +young Bard. He came peaceably into this house and I tried to hold him +here. What would you have done in his place?" + +"They's a dozen men know how peaceable he is," said Nash drily. +"Wherever he's gone on the range he's raised hell. He's cut out for a +killer, and Glendin in Eldara knows it." + +"I'll talk to Glendin. In the meantime you fellows keep your hands off +Bard. In the first place because if you take the law into your own hands +you'll have me against you--understand?" + +Kilrain and Nash glowered at him a moment, and then backed through the +door. + +As they hurried for the barn Kilrain asked: "What makes the chief act +soft to that hell-raiser?" + +"If you have a feller cut out for your own meat," answered Nash, "d'you +want to have any one else step in and take your meal away?" + +"But you and me, Steve, we'll get this bird." + +"We'll get Glendin behind us first." + +"Why him?" + +"Play safe. Glendin can swear us in as deputies to--'apprehend,' as he +calls it, this Bard. Apprehendin' a feller like Bard simply means to +shoot him down and ask him to come along afterward, see?" + +"Nash, you got a great head. You ought to be one of these lawyers. There +ain't nothin' you can't find a way out of. But will Glendin do it?" + +"He'll do what I ask him to do." + +"Friend of yours?" + +"Better'n a friend." + +"Got something on him?" + +"These here questions, they ain't polite, Shorty," grinned Nash. + +"All right. You do the leadin' in this game and I'll jest follow suit. +But lay your course with nothin' but the tops'ls flyin', because I've +got an idea we're goin' to hit a hell of a storm before we get back to +port, Steve." + +"For my part," answered Nash, "I'm gettin' used to rough weather." + +They saddled their horses and cut across the hills straight for Eldara. +Kilrain spurred viciously, and the roan had hard work keeping up. + +"Hold in," called Nash after a time. "Save your hoss, Shorty. This ain't +no short trail. D'you notice the hosses when we was in the barn?" + +"Nope." + +"Bard took Duffy's grey, and the grey can go like the devil. +Hoss-liftin'? That's another little mark on Bard's score." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +TO "APPREHEND" A MAN + +As if to make up for its silence of the blast when the two reached it +late the night before, Eldara was going full that evening. Kilrain went +straight for Doc Young, to bring him later to join Nash at the house of +Deputy Glendin. + +The front of the deputy's house was utterly dark, but Nash, unabashed, +knocked loudly on the door, and went immediately to the rear of the +place. He was in time to see a light wink out at an upper window of the +two-story shack. He slipped back, chuckling, among the trees, and waited +until the back door slammed and a dark figure ran noiselessly down the +steps and out into the night. Then he returned, still chuckling, to the +front of the house, and banged again on the door. + +A window above him raised at length and a drawling voice, apparently +overcome with sleep, called down: "What's up in Eldara?" + +Nash answered: "Everything's wrong. Deputy Glendin, he sits up in a back +room playin' poker and hittin' the redeye. No wonder Eldara's goin' to +hell!" + +A muffled cursing rolled down to the cowpuncher, and then a sharp +challenge: "Who's there?" + +"Nash, you blockhead!" + +"Nash!" cried a relieved voice, "come in; confound you. I thought--no +matter what I thought. Come in!" + +Nash opened the door and went up the stairs. The deputy met him, clad in +a bathrobe and carrying a lamp. Under the bathrobe he was fully dressed. + +"Thought your game was called, eh?" grinned the cattleman. + +"Sure. I had a tidy little thing in black-jack running and was pulling +in the iron boys, one after another. Why didn't you tip me off? You +could have sat in with us." + +"Nope; I'm here on business." + +"Let's have it." + +He led the way into a back room and placed the lamp on a table littered +with cards and a black bottle looming in the centre. + +"Drink?" + +"Nope. I said I came on business." + +"What kind?" + +"Bard." + +"I thought so." + +"I want a posse." + +"What's he done?" + +"Killed Calamity Ben at Drew's place, started a fire that near burned +the house, and lifted Duffy's hoss." + +Glendin whistled softly. + +"Nice little start." + +"Sure, and it's just a beginnin' for this Bard." + +"I'll go out to Drew's place and see what he's done." + +"And then start after him with a gang?" + +"Sure." + +"By that time he'll be a thousand miles away." + +"Well?" + +"I'm running this little party. Let me get a gang together. You can +swear 'em in and put me in charge. I'll guarantee to get him before +morning." + +Glendin shook his head. + +"It ain't legal, Steve. You know that." + +"The hell with legality." + +"That's what you say; but I got to hold my job." + +"You'll do your part by goin' to Drew's place with Doc Young. He'll be +here with Shorty Kilrain in a minute." + +"And let you go after Bard?" + +"Right." + +"Far's I know, you may jest shoot him down and then come back and say +you done it because he resisted arrest." + +"Well?" + +"You admit that's what you want, Steve?" + +"Absolute." + +"Well, partner, it can't be done. That ain't apprehendin' a man. It's +jest plain murder." + +"D'you think you could ever catch that bird alive?" + +"Dunno, I'd try." + +"Never in a thousand years." + +"He don't know the country. He'll travel in a circle and I'll ride him +down." + +"He's got somebody with him that knows the country better'n you or me." + +"Who?" + +The face of Nash twisted into an ugly grimace. + +"Sally Fortune." + +"The hell!" + +"It is; but it's true." + +"It ain't possible. Sally ain't the kind to make a fool of herself +about any man, let alone a gun-fighter." + +"That's what I thought, but I seen her back up this Bard ag'in' a +roomful of men. And she'll keep on backin' him till he's got his toes +turned up." + +"That's another reason for you to get Bard, eh? Well, I can't send you +after him, Nash. That's final." + +"Not a bit. I know too much about you, Glendin." + +The glance of the other raised slowly, fixed on Nash, and then lowered +to the floor. He produced papers and Durham, rolled and lighted his +cigarette, and inhaled a long puff. + +"So that's the game, Steve?" + +"I hate to do it." + +"Let that go. You'll run the limit on this?" + +"Listen, Glendin. I've got to get this Bard. He's out-ridden me, +out-shot me, out-gamed me, out-lucked me, out-guessed me--and taken +Sally. He's mine. He b'longs all to me. D'you see that?" + +"I'm only seein' one thing just now." + +"I know. You think I'm double-crossin' you. Maybe I am, but I'm +desperate, Glendin." + +"After all," mused the deputy, "you'd be simply doin' work I'd have to +do later. You're right about this Bard. He'll never be taken alive." + +"Good ol' Glendin. I knew you'd see light. I'll go out and get the boys +I want in ten minutes. Wait here. Shorty and Doc Young will come in a +minute. One thing more: when you get to Drew's place you'll find him +actin' queer." + +"What about?" + +"I dunno why. It's a bad mess. You see, he's after this Bard himself, +the way I figure it, and he wants him left alone. He'd raise hell if he +knew a posse was after the tenderfoot." + +"Drew's a bad one to get against me." + +"I know. You think I'm double-crossin'?" + +"I'll do it. But this squares all scores between us, Steve?" + +"Right. It leaves the debt on my side, and you know I've never dodged an +I.O.U. Drew may talk queer. He'll tell you that Bard done all that work +in self-defence." + +"Did he?" + +"The point is he killed a man and stole a hoss. No matter what comes of +it, he's got to be arrested, don't he?" + +"And shot down while 'resistin' arrest'? Steve, I'd hate to have you out +for me like this." + +"But you won't listen to Drew?" + +"Not this one time. But, Lord, man, I hate to face him if he's on the +warpath. Who'll you take with you?" + +"Shorty, of course. He was Calamity Ben's pal. The rest will be--don't +laugh--Butch Conklin and his gang." + +"Butch!" + +"Hold yourself together. That's what I mean--Butch Conklin." + +"After you dropped him the other night?" + +"Self-defence, and he knows it. I can find Butch, and I can make him go +with me. Besides, he's out for Bard himself." + +The deputy said with much meaning: "You can do a lot of queer things, +Nash." + +"Forget it, Glendin." + +"I will for a while. D'you really think I can let you take out Butch and +his gunmen ag'in' Bard? Why, they're ten times worse'n the tenderfoot." + +"Maybe, but there's nothin' proved ag'in' 'em--nothin' but a bit of +cattle-liftin', maybe, and things like that. The point is, they're all +hard men, and with 'em along I can't help but get Bard." + +"Murder ain't proved on Butch and his men, but it will be before long." + +"Wait till it's proved. In the meantime use em all." + +"You've a long head, Nash." + +"Glendin, I'm makin' the biggest play of my life. I'm off to find Butch. +You'll stand firm with Drew?" + +"I won't hear a word he says." + +"S'long! Be back in ten minutes. Wait for me." + +He was as good as his word. Even before the ten minutes had elapsed he +was back, and behind followed a crew of heavy thumping boots up the +stairs of Glendin's house and into the room where he sat with Dr. Young +and Shorty Kilrain. They rose, but not from respect, when Nash entered +with Conklin and his four ill-famed followers behind. + +The soiled bandage on the head of Butch was far too thick to allow his +hat to sit in its normal position. It was perched high on top, and +secured in place by a bit of string which passed from side to side under +the chin. Behind him came Lovel, an almost albino type with +straw-coloured hair and eyes bleached and passionless; the vacuous smile +was never gone from his lips. + +More feared and more hated than Conklin himself was Isaacs. The latter, +always fastidious, wore a blue-striped vest, without a coat to obscure +it, and about his throat was knotted a flaming vermilion necktie, +fastened in place with a diamond stickpin--obviously the spoil of some +recent robbery. Glendin, watching, ground his teeth. + +McNamara followed. He had been a squatter, but his family had died of a +fever, and McNamara's mind had been unsettled ever since; whisky had +finished the work of sending him on the downward path with Conklin's +little crew of desperadoes. Men shrank from facing those too-bright, +wandering eyes, yet it was from pity almost as much as horror. + +Finally came Ufert. He was merely a round-faced boy of nineteen, proud +of the distinguished bad company he kept. He was that weak-minded type +which is only strong when it becomes wholly evil. With a different +leadership he would have become simply a tobacco-chewing hanger-on at +cross-roads saloons and general merchandise stores. As it was, feeling +dignified by the brotherhood of crime into which he had been admitted as +a full member, and eager to prove his qualifications, he was as +dangerous as any member of the crew. + +The three men who were already in the room had been prepared by Glendin +for this new arrival, but the fact was almost too much for their +credence. Consequently they rose, and Dr. Young muttered at the ear of +Glendin: "Is it possible, Deputy Glendin, that you're going to use these +fellows?" + +"A thief to catch a thief," whispered Glendin in reply. + +He said aloud: "Butch, I've been looking for you for a long time, but I +really never expected to see you quite as close as this." + +"You've said it," grinned Butch, "I ain't been watchin' for you real +close, but now that I see you, you look more or less like a man should +look. H'ware ye, Glendin?" + +He held out his hand, but the deputy, shifting his position, seemed to +overlook the grimy proffered palm. + +"You fellows know that you're wanted by the law," he said, frowning on +them. + +A grim meaning rose in the vacuous eye of Lovel; Isaacs caressed his +diamond pin, smiling in a sickly fashion; McNamara's wandering stare +fixed and grew unhumanly bright; Ufert openly dropped his hand on his +gun-butt and stood sullenly defiant. + +"You know that you're wanted, and you know why," went on Glendin, "but +I've decided to give you a chance to prove that you're white men and +useful citizens. Nash has already told you what we want. It's work for +seven men against one, but that one man is apt to give you all plenty +to do. If you are--successful"--he stammered a little over the right +word--"what you have done in the past will be forgotten. Hold up your +right hands and repeat after me." + +And they repeated the oath after him in a broken, drawling chorus, +stumbling over the formal, legal phraseology. + +He ended, and then: "Nash, you're in charge of the gang. Do what you +want to with them, and remember that you're to get Bard back in town +unharmed--if possible." + +Butch Conklin smiled, and the same smile spread grimly from face to face +among the gang. Evidently this point had already been elucidated to them +by Nash, who now mustered them out of the house and assembled them on +their horses in the street below. + +"Which way do we travel?" asked Shorty Kilrain, reining close beside the +leader, as though he were anxious to disestablish any relationship with +the rest of the party. + +"Two ways," answered Nash. "Of course I don't know what way Bard headed, +because he's got the girl with him, but I figure it this way: if a +tenderfoot knows any part of the range at all, he'll go in that +direction after he's in trouble. I've seen it work out before. So I +think that Bard may have ridden straight for the old Drew place on the +other side of the range. I know a short cut over the hills; we can reach +there by morning. Kilrain, you'll go there with me. + +"It may be that Bard will go near the old place, but not right to it. +Chances may be good that he'll put up at some place near the old +ranchhouse, but not right on the spot. Jerry Wood, he's got a house +about four or five miles to the north of Drew's old ranch. Butch, you +take your men and ride for Wood's place. Then switch south and ride for +Partridge's store; if we miss him at Drew's old house we'll go on and +join you at Partridge's store and then double back. He'll be somewhere +inside that circle and Eldara, you can lay to that. Now, boys, are your +hosses fresh?" + +They were. + +"Then ride, and don't spare the spurs. Hoss flesh is cheaper'n your own +hides." + +The cavalcade separated and galloped in two directions through the town +of Eldara. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +NOTHING NEW + +Glendin and Dr. Young struck out for the ranch of William Drew, but they +held a moderate pace, and it was already grey dawn before they arrived; +yet even at that hour several windows of the house were lighted. They +were led directly to Drew's room. + +The big man welcomed them at the door with a hand raised for silence. He +seemed to have aged greatly during the night, but between the black +shadows beneath and the shaggy brows above, his eyes gleamed more +brightly than ever. About his mouth the lines of resolution were worn +deep by his vigil. + +"He seems to be sleeping rather well--though you hear his breathing?" + +It was a soft, but ominously rattling sound. + +"Through the lungs," said the doctor instantly. + +The cowpuncher was completely covered, except for his head and feet. On +the latter, oddly enough, were still his grimy boots, blackening the +white sheets on which they rested. + +"I tried to work them off--you see the laces are untied," explained +Drew, "but the poor fellow recovered consciousness at once, and +struggled to get his feet free. He said that he wants to die with his +boots on." + +"You tried his pulse and his temperature?" whispered the doctor. + +"Yes. The temperature is not much above normal, the pulse is extremely +rapid and very faint. Is that a bad sign?" + +"Very bad." + +Drew winced and caught his breath so sharply that the others stared at +him. It might have been thought that he had just heard his own death +sentence pronounced. + +He explained: "Ben has been with me a number of years. It breaks me up +to think of losing him like this." + +The doctor took the pulse of Calamity with lightly touching fingers that +did not waken the sleeper; then he felt with equal caution the forehead +of Ben. + +"Well?" asked Drew eagerly. + +"The chances are about one out of ten." + +It drew a groan from the rancher. + +"But there is still some hope." + +The doctor shook his head and carefully unwound the bandages. He +examined the wound with care, and then made a dressing, and recovered +the little purple spot, so small that a five-cent piece would have +covered it. + +"Tell me!" demanded Drew, as Young turned at length. + +"The bullet passed right through the body, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"He ought to have been dead hours ago. I can't understand it. But since +he's still alive we'll go on hoping." + +"Hope?" whispered Drew. + +It was as if he had received the promise of heaven, such brightness fell +across his haggard face. + +"There's no use attempting to explain," answered Young. "An ordinary man +would have died almost instantly, but the lungs of some of these rangers +seem to be lined with leather. I suppose they are fairly embalmed with +excessive cigarette smoking. The constant work in the open air toughens +them wonderfully. As I said, the chances are about one out of ten, but +I'm only astonished that there is any chance at all." + +"Doctor, I'll make you rich for this!" + +"My dear sir, I've done nothing; it has been your instant care that +saved him--as far as he is saved. I'll tell you what to continue doing +for him; in half an hour I must leave." + +Drew smiled faintly. + +"Not till he's well or dead, doctor." + +"I didn't quite catch that." + +"You won't leave the room, Young, till this man is dead or on the way to +recovery." + +"Come, come, Mr. Drew, I have patients who-- + +"I tell you, there is no one else. Until a decision comes in this case +your world is bounded by the four walls of this room. That's final." + +"Is it possible that you would attempt--" + +"Anything is possible with me. Make up your mind. You shall not leave +this man till you've done all that's humanly possible for him." + +"Mr. Drew, I appreciate your anxiety, but this is stepping too far. I +have an officer of the law with me--" + +"Better do what he wants, Doc," said Glendin uneasily. + +"Don't mouth words," ordered Drew sternly. + +"There lies your sick man. Get to work. In this I'm as unalterable as +the rocks." + +"The bill will be large," said Young sullenly, for he began to see that +it was as futile to resist the grey giant as it would have been to +attempt to stop the progress of a landslide. + +"I'll pay you double what you wish to charge." + +"Does this man's life mean so much to you?" + +"A priceless thing. If you save him, you take the burden of murder off +the soul of another." + +"I'll do what I can." + +"I know you will." + +He laid the broad hand on Young's shoulder. "Doctor, you must do more +than you can; you must accomplish the impossible; I tell you, it is +impossible for this man to die; he must live!" + +He turned to Glendin. + +"I suppose you want the details of what happened here?" + +"Right." + +"Follow me. Doctor, I'll be gone only a moment." + +He led the way into an adjoining room, and lighted a lamp. The sudden +flare cast deep shadows on the face leaning above, and Glendin started. +For the moment it seemed to him that he was seeing a face which had +looked on hell and lived to speak of it. + +"Mr. Drew," he said, "you'd better hit the hay yourself; you look pretty +badly done up." + +The other looked up with a singular smile, clenching and unclenching +his fingers as if he strove to relax muscles which had been tense for +hours. + +"Glendin, the surface of my strength has not been scratched; I could +keep going every hour for ten days if it would save the life of the poor +fellow who lies in there." + +He took a long breath. + +"Now, then, let's get after this business. I'll tell you the naked +facts. Anthony Bard was approaching my house yesterday and word of his +coming was brought to me. For reasons of my own it was necessary that I +should detain him here for an uncertain length of time. For other +reasons it was necessary that I go to any length to accomplish my ends. + +"I had another man--Lawlor, who looks something like me--take my place +in the eyes of Bard. But Bard grew suspicious of the deception. Finally +a girl entered and called Lawlor by name, as they were sitting at the +table with all the men around them. Bard rose at once with a gun in his +hand. + +"Put yourself in his place. He found that he had been deceived, he knew +that he was surrounded by armed men, he must have felt like a cornered +rat. He drew his gun and started for the door, warning the others that +he meant to go the limit in order to get free. Mind you, it was no +sudden gun-play. + +"Then I ordered the men to keep him at all costs within the room. He saw +that they were prepared to obey me, and then he took a desperate chance +and shot down the gasoline lamp which hung over the table. In the +explosion and fire which resulted he made for the door. One man blocked +the way, levelled a revolver at him, and then Bard shot in self-defence +and downed Calamity Ben. I ask you, Glendin, is that self defence?" + +The other drummed his finger-tips nervously against his chin; he was +thinking hard, and every thought was of Steve Nash. + +"So far, all right. I ain't askin' your reasons for doin' some pretty +queer things, Mr. Drew." + +"I'll stand every penalty of the law, sir. I only ask that you see that +punishment falls where it is deserved only. The case is clear. Bard +acted in self-defence." + +Glendin was desperate. + +He said at length: "When a man's tried in court they bring up his past +career. This feller Bard has gone along the range raisin' a different +brand of hell everywhere he went. He had a run-in with two gunmen, +Ferguson and Conklin. He had Eldara within an ace of a riot the first +night he hit the town. Mr. Drew, that chap looks the part of a killer; +he acts the part of a killer; and by God, he is a killer." + +"You seem to have come with your mind already made up, Glendin," said +the rancher coldly. + +"Not a bit. But go through the whole town or Eldara and ask the boys +what they think of this tenderfoot. They feel so strong that if he was +jailed they'd lynch him." + +Drew raised a clenched fist and then let his arm fall suddenly limp at +his side. + +"Then surely he must not be jailed." + +"Want me to let him wander around loose and kill another man--in +self-defence?" + +"I want you to use reason--and mercy, Glendin! + +"From what I've heard, you ain't the man to talk of mercy, Mr. Drew." + +The other, as if he had received a stunning blow, slipped into a chair +and buried his face in his hands. It was a long moment before he could +speak, and when his hands were lowered, Glendin winced at what he saw in +the other's face. + +"God knows I'm not," said Drew. + +"Suppose we let the shootin' of Calamity go. What of hoss-liftin', +sir?" + +"Horse stealing? Impossible! Anthony--he could not be guilty of it!" + +"Ask your man Duffy. Bard's ridin' Duffy's grey right now." + +"But Duffy will press no claim," said the rancher eagerly. "I'll see to +that. I'll pay him ten times the value of his horse. Glendin, you can't +punish a man for a theft of which Duffy will not complain." + +"Drew, you know what the boys on the range think of a hoss thief. It +ain't the price of what they steal; it's the low-down soul of the dog +that would steal it. It ain't the money. But what's a man without a hoss +on the range? Suppose his hoss is stole while he's hundred miles from +nowhere? What does it mean? You know; it means dyin' of thirst and goin' +through a hundred hells before the finish. I say shootin' a man is +nothin' compared with stealin' a hoss. A man that'll steal a hoss will +shoot his own brother; that's what he'll do. But I don't need to tell +you. You know it better'n me. What was it you done with your own hands +to Louis Borgen, the hoss-rustler, back ten years ago?" + +A dead voice answered Glendin: "What has set you on the trail of Bard?" + +"His own wrong doin'." + +The rancher waved a hand of careless dismissal. + +"I know you, Glendin," he said. + +The deputy stirred in his chair, and then cleared his throat. + +He said in a rising tone: "What d'you know?" + +"I don't think you really care to hear it. To put it lightly, Glendin, +you've done many things for money. I don't accuse you of them. But if +you want to do one thing more, you can make more money at a stroke than +you've made in all the rest." + +With all his soul the deputy was cursing Nash, but now the thing was +done, and he must see it through. + +He rose glowering on Drew. + +"I've stood a pile already from you; this is one beyond the limit. +Bribery ain't my way, Drew, no matter what I've done before." + +"Is it war, then?" + +And Glendin answered, forcing his tone into fierceness: "Anything you +want--any way you want it!" + +"Glendin," said the other with a sudden lowering of his voice, "has some +other man been talking to you?" + +"Who? Me? Certainly not." + +"Don't lie." + +"Drew, rein up. They's one thing no man can say to me and get away with +it." + +"I tell you, man, I'm holding myself in harder than I've ever done +before. Answer me!" + +He did not even rise, but Glendin, his hand twitching close to the butt +of his gun, moved step by step away from those keen eyes. + +"Answer me!" + +"Nash; he's been to Eldara." + +"I might have known. He told you about this?" + +"Yes." + +"And you're going the full limit of your power against Bard?" + +"I'll do nothin' that ain't been done by others before me." + +"Glendin, there have been cowardly legal murders before. Tell me at +least that you will not send a posse to 'apprehend' Bard until it's +learned whether or not Ben will die--and whether or not Duffy will press +the charge of horse stealing." + +Glendin was at the door. He fumbled behind him, found the knob, and +swung it open. + +"If you double-cross me," said Drew, "all that I've ever done to any man +before will be nothing to what I'll do to you, Glendin." + +And the deputy cried, his voice gone shrill and high, "I ain't done +nothin' that ain't been done before!" + +And he vanished through the doorway. Drew followed and looked after the +deputy, who galloped like a fugitive over the hills. + +"Shall I follow him?" he muttered to himself, but a faint groan reached +him from the bedroom. + +He turned on his heel and went back to Calamity Ben and the doctor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +CRITICISM + +After the first burst of speed, Bard resigned himself to following +Sally, knowing that he could never catch her, first because her horse +carried a burden so much lighter than his own, but above all because the +girl seemed to know every rock and twist in the trail, and rode as +courageously through the night as if it had been broad day. + +She was following a course as straight as a crow's flight between the +ranch of Drew and his old place, a desperate trail that veered and +twisted up the side of the mountain and then lurched headlong down on +the farther side of the crest. Half a dozen times Anthony checked his +horse and shook his head at the trail, but always the figure of the +girl, glimmering through the dusk ahead, challenged and drove him on. + +Out of the sharp descent of the downward trail they broke suddenly onto +the comparatively smooth floor of the valley, and he followed her at a +gallop which ended in front of the old house of Drew. They had been far +less than five hours on the way, yet his long detour to the south had +given him three days of hard riding to cover the same points. His desire +to meet Logan again became almost a passion. He swung to the ground, and +advanced to Sally with his hands outstretched. + +"You've shown me the short cut, all right," he said, "and I thank you a +thousand times, Sally. So-long, and good luck to you." + +She disregarded his extended hand. + +"Want me to leave you here, Bard?" + +"You certainly can't stay." + +She slipped from her horse and jerked the reins over its head. In +another moment she had untied the cinch and drawn off the saddle. She +held its weight easily on one forearm. Actions, after all, are more +eloquent than words. + +"I suppose," he said gloomily, "that if I'd asked you to stay you'd have +ridden off at once?" + +She did not answer for a moment, and he strained his eyes to read her +expression through the dark. At length she laughed with a new note in +her voice that drew her strangely close to him. During the long ride he +had come to feel toward her as toward another man, as strong as himself, +almost, as fine a horseman, and much surer of herself on that wild +trail; but now the laughter in an instant rubbed all this away. It was +rather low, and with a throaty quality of richness. The pulse of the +sound was like a light finger tapping some marvellously sensitive chord +within him. + +"D'you think that?" she said, and went directly through the door of the +house. + +He heard the crazy floor creak beneath her weight; the saddle dropped +with a thump; a match scratched and a flight of shadows shook across the +doorway. The light did not serve to make the room visible; it fell +wholly upon his own mind and troubled him like the waves which spread +from the dropping of the smallest pebble and lap against the last shores +of a pool. Dumfounded by her casual surety, he remained another moment +with the rein in the hollow of his arm. + +Finally he decided to mount as silently as possible and ride off through +the night away from her. The consequences to her reputation if they +spent the night so closely together was one reason; a more selfish and +more moving one was the trouble which she gave him. The finding and +disposing of Drew should be the one thing to occupy his thoughts, but +the laughter of the girl the moment before had suddenly obsessed him, +wiped out the rest of the world, enmeshed them hopelessly together in +the solemn net of the night, the silence. He resented it; in a vague way +he was angry with Sally Fortune. + +His foot was in the stirrup when it occurred to him that no matter how +softly he withdrew she would know and follow him. It seemed to Anthony +that for the first time in his life he was not alone. In other days +social bonds had fallen very lightly on him; the men he knew were +acquaintances, not friends; the women had been merely border +decorations, variations of light and shadow which never shone really +deep into the stream of his existence; even his father had not been near +him; but by the irresistible force of circumstances which he could not +control, this girl was forced bodily upon his consciousness. + +Now he heard a cheery, faint crackling from the house and a rosy glow +pervaded the gloom beyond the doorway. It brought home to Anthony the +fact that he was tired; weariness went through all his limbs like the +sound of music. Music in fact, for the girl was singing softly--to +herself. + +He took his foot from the stirrup, unsaddled, and carried the saddle +into the room. He found Sally crouched at the fire and piling bits of +wood on the rising flame. Her face was squinted to avoid the smoke, and +she sheltered her eyes with one hand. At his coming she smiled briefly +up at him and turned immediately back to the fire. The silence of that +smile brought their comradeship sharply home to him. It was as if she +understood his weariness and knew that the fire was infinitely +comforting. Anthony frowned; he did not wish to be understood. It was +irritating--indelicate. + +He sat on one of the bunks, and when she took her place on the other he +studied her covertly, with side glances, for he was beginning to feel +strangely self-conscious. It was the situation rather than the girl that +gained upon him, but he felt shamed that he should be so uncertain of +himself and so liable to expose some weakness before the girl. + +That in turn raised a blindly selfish desire to make her feel and +acknowledge his mastery. He did not define the emotion exactly, nor see +clearly what he wished to do, but in a general way he wanted to be +necessary to her, and to let her know at the same time that she was +nothing to him. He was quite sure that the opposite was the truth just +now. + +At this point he shrugged his shoulders, angry that he should have +slipped so easily into the character of a sullen boy, hating a +benefactor for no reason other than his benefactions; but the same +vicious impulse made him study the face of Sally Fortune with an +impersonal, coldly critical eye. It was not easy to do, for she sat with +her head tilted back a little, as though to take the warmth of the fire +more fully. The faint smile on her lips showed her comfort, mingled with +retrospection. + +Here he lost the trend of his thoughts by beginning to wonder of what +she could be thinking, but he called himself back sharply to the +analysis of her features. It was a game with which he had often amused +himself among the girls of his eastern acquaintance. Their beauty, after +all, was their only weapon, and when he discovered that that weapon was +not of pure steel, they became nothing; it was like pushing them away +with an arm of infinite length. + +There was food for criticism in Sally's features. The nose, of course, +was tipped up a bit, and the mouth too large, but Anthony discovered +that it was almost impossible to centre his criticism on either feature. +The tip-tilt of the nose suggested a quaint and infinitely buoyant +spirit; the mouth, if generously wide, was exquisitely made. She was +certainly not pretty, but he began to feel with equal certainty that she +was beautiful. + +A waiting mood came on him while he watched, as one waits through a +great symphony and endures the monotonous passages for the sake of the +singing bursts of harmony to which the commoner parts are a necessary +background. He began to wish that she would turn her head so that he +could see her eyes. They were like the inspired part of that same +symphony, a beauty which could not be remembered and was always new, +satisfying. He could make her turn by speaking, and knowing that this +was so, he postponed the pleasure like a miser who will only count his +gold once a day. + +From the side view he dwelt on the short, delicately carved upper lip +and the astonishingly pleasant curve of the cheek. + +"Look at me," he said abruptly. + +She turned, observed him calmly, and then glanced back to the fire. She +asked no question. + +Her chin rested on her hands, now, so that when she spoke her head +nodded a little and gave a significance to what she said. + +"The grey doesn't belong to you?" + +So she was thinking of horses! + +"Well," she repeated. + +"No." + +"Hoss-lifting," she mused. + +"Why shouldn't I take a horse when they had shot down mine?" + +She turned to him again, and this time her gaze went over him slowly, +curiously, but without speaking she looked back to the fire, as though +explanation of what "hoss-lifting" meant were something far beyond the +grasp of his mentality. His anger rose again, childishly, sullenly, and +he had to arm himself with indifference. + +"Who'd you drop, Bard?" + +"The one they call Calamity Ben." + +"Is he done for?" + +"Yes." + +The turmoil of the scene of his escape came back to him so vividly that +he wondered why it had ever been blurred to obscurity. + +She said: "In a couple of hours we'd better ride on." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +ABANDON + +That was all; no comment, no exclamation--she continued to gaze with +that faint, retrospective smile toward the fire. He knew now why she +angered him; it was because she had held the upper hand from the minute +that ride over the short pass began--he had never once been able to +assert himself impressively. He decided to try now. + +"I don't intend to ride on." + +"Too tired?" + +He felt the clash of her will on his, even like flint against steel, +whenever they spoke, and he began to wonder what spark would start a +fire. It made him think of a game of poker, in a way, for he never knew +what the next instant would place in his hands while the cards of chance +were shuffled and dealt. Tired? There was a subtle, scoffing challenge +hidden somewhere in that word. + +"No, but I don't intend to go any farther from Drew." + +Her smile grew more pronounced; she even looked to him with a frank +amusement, for apparently she would not take him seriously. + +"If I were you, he'd be the last man I'd want to be near." + +"I suppose you would." + +As if she picked up the gauntlet, she turned squarely on the bunk and +faced him. + +"You're going to hit the trail in an hour, understand?" + +It delighted him--set him thrilling with excitement to feel her open +anger and the grip of her will against his; he had to force a frown in +order to conceal a smile. + +"If I do, it will be to ride back toward Drew." + +Her lips parted to make an angry retort, and then he watched her steel +herself with patience, like a mother teaching an old lesson to a child. + +"D'you know what you'd be like, wanderin' around these mountains without +a guide?" + +"Well?" + +"Like a kid in a dark, lonesome room. You'd travel in a circle and fall +into their hands in a day." + +"Possibly." + +She was still patient. + +"Follow me close, Bard. I mean that if you don't do what I say I'll cut +loose and leave you alone here." + +He was silent, enjoying her sternness, glad to have roused her, no +matter what the consequences; knowing that each second heightened the +climax. + +Apparently she interpreted his speechlessness in a different way. She +said after a moment: "That sounds like quittin' cold on you. I won't do +it unless you try some fool thing like riding back toward Drew." + +He waited again as long as he dared, then: "Don't you see that the last +thing I want is to keep you with me?" + +There was no pleasure in that climax. She sat with parted lips, her +hands clasped tightly in her lap, staring at him. He became as vividly +conscious of her femininity as he had been when she laughed in the dark. +There was the same sustained pulsing, vital emotion in this silence. + +He explained hastily: "A girl's reputation is a fragile thing, Sally." + +And she recovered herself with a start, but not before he saw and +understood. It was as if, in the midst of an exciting hand, with the +wagers running high, he had seen her cards and knew that his own hand +was higher. The pleasant sense of mastery made a warmth through him. + +"Meaning that they'd talk about me? Bard, they've already said enough +things about me to fill a book--notes and all, with a bunch of pictures +thrown in. What I can't live down I fight down, and no man never says +the same thing twice about me. It ain't healthy. If that's all that +bothers you, close your eyes and let me lead you out of this mess." + +He hunted about for some other way to draw her out. After all, it was an +old, old game. He had played it before many a time; though the setting +and the lights had been different the play was always the same--a man, +and a woman. + +She was explaining: "And it is a mess. Maybe you could get out after +droppin' Calamity, because it was partly self-defence, but there ain't +nothin' between here and God that can get you off from liftin' a hoss. +No, sir, not even returning the hoss won't do no good. I know! The only +thing is speed--and a thousand miles east of here you can stop ridin'." + +He found the thing to say, and he made his voice earnest and low to give +the words wing and sharpness; it was like the hum of the bow string +after the arrow is launched, so tense was the tremor of his tone. + +"There are two reasons why I can't leave. The first is Drew. I must get +back to him." + +"Why d'you want Drew? Let me tell you, Bard, he's a bigger job than ten +tenderfeet like you could handle. Why, mothers scare their babies asleep +by tellin' of the things that William Drew has done." + +"I can't tell you why. In fact, I don't altogether know the complete why +and wherefore. It's enough that I have to meet him and finish him!" + +Her fingers interlaced and gripped; he wondered at their slenderness; +and leaning back so that his face fell under a slant, black shadow, he +enjoyed the flame of the firelight, turning her brown hair to amber and +gold. White and round and smooth and perfect was the column of her +throat, and it trembled with the stir of her voice. + +"The most fool idea I ever heard. Sounds like something in a dream--a +nightmare. What d'you want to do, Anthony, make yourself famous? You +will be, all right; they'll put up your tombstone by a public +subscription." + +He would not answer, sure of himself; waiting, tingling with enjoyment. + +As he expected, she said: "Go on; is the other reason as good as that +one?" + +Making his expression grim, he leaned suddenly forward, and though the +width of the room separated them, she drew back a little, as though the +shadow of his coming cast a forewarning shade across her. He heard her +breath catch, and as if some impalpable and joyous spirit rushed to meet +and mingle with his, something from her, a spirit as warm as the fire, +as faintly, keenly sweet as an air from a night-dark, unseen garden +blowing in his face. + +"The other reason is you, Sally Fortune. You can't go with me as far as +I must go; and I can't leave you behind." + +Ah, there it was! He had fumbled at the keys of the organ in the dark; +he had spread his fingers amply and pressed down; behold, back from the +cathedral lofts echoed a rising music of surpassing beauty. Like the +organist, he sank back again in the shadow and wondered at the phrase of +melody. Surely he had not created it? Then what? God, perhaps. For her +lips parted to a smile that was suggested rather than seen, a tender, +womanly sweetness that played about her mouth; and a light came in her +eyes that would never wholly die from them. Afterward he would feel +shame for what he had done, but now he was wholly wrapped in the new +thing that had been born in her, like a bird striving to fly in the +teeth of a great storm, and giving back with reeling, drumming wings, a +beautiful and touching sight. + +Her lips framed words that made no sound. Truly, she was making a +gallant struggle. Then she said: "Anthony!" She was pale with the +struggle, now, but she rose bravely to her part. She even laughed, +though it fell short like an arrow dropping in front of the target. + +"Listen, Bard, you make a pretty good imitation of Samson, but I ain't +cut out for any Delilah. If I'm holding you here, why, cut and run and +forget it." + +She drew a long breath and went on more confidently: "It ain't any use; +I'm not cut out for any man--I'd so much rather be--free. I've tried to +get interested in others, but it never works." + +She laughed again, more surely, and with a certain hardness like the +ringing of metal against metal, or the after rhythm from the peal of a +bell. With deft, flying fingers she rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and +sat down cross-legged. + +Through the first outward puff of smoke went these words: "The only +thing that's a woman about me is skirts. That's straight." + +Yet he knew that his power was besieging her on every side. Her power +seemed gone, and she was like a rare flower in the hollow of his hand; +all that he had to do was to close his fingers, and--He despised himself +for it, but he could not resist. Moreover, he half counted on her pride +to make her break away. + +"Then if it's hopeless, Sally Fortune, go now." + +She answered, with an upward tilt of her chin: "Don't be a fool, +Anthony. If I can't be a woman to you, at least I can be a pal--the best +you've had in these parts. Nope, I'll see you through. Better saddle +now--" + +"And start back for Drew?" + +There was the thrust that made her start, as if the knife went through +tender flesh. + +"Are you such a plumb fool as that?" + +"Go now, Sally. I tell you, it's no use. I won't leave the trail of +Drew." + +It was only the outward stretch of her arm, only the extension of her +hand, palm up, but it was as if her whole nature expanded toward him in +tenderness. + +"Oh, Anthony, if you care for me, don't stay in reach of Drew! You're +breaking--" + +She stopped and closed her eyes. + +"Breakin' all the rules, like any tenderfoot would be expected to do." + +She glanced at him, wistful, to see whether or not she had smoothed it +over; his face was a blank. + +"You won't go?" + +"Nope." + +He insisted cruelly: "Why?" + +"Because--because--well, can I leave a baby alone near a fire? Not me!" + +Her voice changed. The light and the life was gone from it, but not all +the music. It was low, a little hoarse. + +"I guess we can stay here tonight without no danger. And in the +morning--well, the morning can take care of itself. I'm going to turn +in." + +He rose obediently and stood at the door, facing the night. From behind +came the rustle of clothes, and the sense of her followed and surrounded +and stood at his shoulder calling to him to turn. He had won, but he +began to wonder if it had not been a Pyrrhic victory. + +At length: "All right, Anthony. It's your turn." + +She was lying on her side, facing the wall, a little heap of clothes on +the foot of her bunk, and the lithe lines of her body something to be +guessed at--sensed beneath the heavy blanket. He slipped into his own +bunk and lay a moment watching the heavy drift of shadows across the +ceiling. He strove to think, but the waves of light and dark blotted +from his mind all except the feeling of her nearness, that indefinable +power keen as the fragrance of a garden, which had never quite become +disentangled from his spirit. She was there, so close. If he called, +she would answer; if she answered------ + +He turned to the wall, shut his eyes, and closed his mind with a Spartan +effort. His breathing came heavily, regularly, like one who slept or one +who is running. Over that sound he caught at length another light +rustling, and then the faint creak as she crossed the crazy floor. He +made his face calm--forced his breath to grow more soft and regular. + +Then, as if a shadow in which there is warmth had crossed him, he knew +that she was leaning above him, close, closer; he could hear her breath. +In a rush of tenderness, he forgot her beauty of eyes and round, strong +throat, and supple body--he forgot, and was immersed, like an eagle +winging into a radiant sunset cloud, in a sense only of her being, quite +divorced from the flesh, the mysterious rare power which made her Sally +Fortune, and would not change no matter what body might contain it. + +It was blindingly intense, and when his senses cleared he knew that she +was gone. He felt as if he had awakened from a night full of dreams more +vivid than life--dreams which left him too weak to cope with reality. + +For a time he dared not move. He was feeling for himself like a man who +fumbles his way down a dark passage dangerous with obstructions. At last +it was as if his hand touched the knob of a door; he swung it open, +entered a room full of dazzling light--himself. He shrank back from it; +closed his eyes against what he might see. + +All he knew, then, was an overpowering will to see her. He turned, inch +by inch, little degree by degree, knowing that if, when he turned, he +looked into her eyes, the end would rush upon them, overwhelm them, +carry them along like straws on the flooding river. At last his head was +turned; he looked. + +She lay on her back, smiling as she slept. One arm hung down from the +bunk and the graceful fingers trailed, palm up, on the floor, curling a +little, as if she had just relaxed her grasp on something. And down past +her shoulder, half covering the whiteness of her arm, fled the torrent +of brown hair, with the firelight playing through it like a sunlit mist. + +He rose, and dressed with a deadly caution, for he knew that he must go +at once, partly for her sake that he must be seen apart from her this +night--partly because he knew that he must leave and never come back. + +He had hit upon the distinctive feature of the girl--a purity as thin +and clear as the air of the uplands in which she drew breath. He stooped +and smoothed down the blankets of his bunk, for no trace of him must be +seen if any other man should come during this night. He would go far +away--see and be seen--apart from Sally Fortune. He picked up his +saddle. + +Before he departed he leaned low above her as she must have done above +him, until the dark shadow of lashes was tremulous against her cheek. +Then he straightened and stole step by step across the floor, to the +door, to the night; all the myriad small white eyes of the heavens +looked down to him in hushed surprise. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +JERRY WOOD + +When he was at the old Drew place before, Logan had told him of Jerry +Wood's place, five miles to the north among the hills; and to this he +now directed his horse, riding at a merciless speed, as if he strove to +gain, from the swift succession of rocks and trees that whirled past +him, new thoughts to supplant the ones which already occupied him. + +He reached in a short time a little rise of ground below which stretched +a darkly wooded hollow, and in the midst the trees gave back from a +small house, a two-storied affair, with not a light showing. He wished +to announce himself and his name at this place under the pretence of +asking harbourage for the brief remainder of the night. The news of what +he had done at Drew's place could not have travelled before him to +Wood's house; but the next day it would be sure to come, and Wood could +say that he had seen Bard--alone--the previous night. It would be a +sufficient shield for the name of Sally Fortune in that incurious +region. + +So he banged loudly at the door. + +Eventually a light showed in an upper window and a voice cried: "Who's +there?" + +"Anthony Bard." + +"Who the devil is Anthony Bard?" + +"Lost in the hills. Can you give me a place to sleep for the rest of the +night? I'm about done up." + +"Wait a minute." + +Voices stirred in the upper part of the house; the lantern disappeared; +steps sounded, descending the stairs, and then the door was unbarred and +held a cautious inch ajar. The ray of light jumped out at Bard like an +accusing arm. + +Evidently a brief survey convinced Jerry Wood that the stranger was no +more than what he pretended. He opened the door wide and stepped back. + +"Come in." + +Bard moved inside, taking off his hat. + +"How'd you happen to be lost in the hills?" + +"I'm a bit of a stranger around here, you see." + +The other surveyed him with a growing grin. + +"I guess maybe you are. Sure, we'll put you up for the night. Where's +your hoss?" + +He went out and raised the lantern above his head to look. The light +shone back from the lustrous wide eyes of the grey. + +Wood turned to Bard. + +"Seems to me I've seen that hoss." + +"Yes. I bought it from Duffy out at Drew's place." + +"Oh! Friend of Mr. Drew?" + +Half a life spent on the mountain-desert had not been enough to remove +from Drew that distinguishing title of respect. The range has more great +men than it has "misters." + +"Not exactly a friend," answered Bard. + +"Sail right. Long's you know him, you're as good as gold with me. Come +on along to the barn and we'll knock down a feed for the hoss." + +He chuckled as he led the way. + +"For that matter, there ain't any I know that can say they're friends to +William Drew, though there's plenty that would like to if they thought +they could get away with it. How's he lookin'?" + +"Why, big and grey." + +"Sure. He never changes none. Time and years don't mean nothin' to Drew. +He started bein' a man when most of us is in short pants; he'll keep on +bein' a man till he goes out. He ain't got many friends--real ones--but +I don't know of any enemies, neither. All the time he's been on the +range Drew has never done a crooked piece of work. Every decent man on +the range would take his word ag'in'--well, ag'in' the Bible, for that +matter." + +They reached the barn at the end of this encomium, and Bard unsaddled +his horse. The other watched him critically. + +"Know somethin' about hosses, eh?" + +"A little." + +"When I seen you, I put you down for a tenderfoot. Don't mind, do you? +The way you talked put me out." + +"For that matter, I suppose I am a tenderfoot." + +"Speakin' of tenderfoots, I heard of one over to Eldara the other night +that raised considerable hell. You ain't him, are you?" + +He lifted the lantern again and fixed his keen eyes on Bard. + +"However," he went on, lowering the lantern with an apologetic laugh, +"I'm standin' here askin' questions and chatterin' like a woman, and +what you're thinkin' of is bed, eh? Come on with me." + +Upstairs in the house he found Bard a corner room with a pile of straw +in the corner by way of a mattress. There he spread out some blankets, +wished his guest a good sleep, and departed. + +Left to himself, Anthony stretched out flat on his back. It had been a +wild, hard day, but he felt not the slightest touch of weariness; all he +wished was to relax his muscles for a few moments. Moreover, he must be +away from the house with the dawn-first, because Sally Fortune might +waken, guess where he had gone, and follow him; secondly because the +news of what had happened at Drew's place might reach Wood at any hour. + +So he lay trying to fight the thought of Sally from his mind and +concentrate on some way of getting back to Drew without riding the +gauntlet of the law. + +The sleep which stole upon him came by slow degrees; or, rather, he was +not fully asleep, when a sound outside the house roused him to sharp +consciousness compared with which his drowsiness had been a sleep. + +It was a knocking at the door, not loud, but repeated. At the same time +he heard Jerry Wood cursing softly in a neighbouring room, and then the +telltale creak of bedsprings. + +The host was rousing himself a second time that night. Or, rather, it +was morning now, for when Anthony sat up he saw that the hills were +stepping out of the shadows of the night, black, ugly shapes revealed by +a grey background of the sky. A window went up noisily. + +"Am I runnin' a hotel?" roared Jerry Wood. "Ain't I to have no sleep no +more? Who are ye?" + +A lowered, muttering voice answered. + +"All right," said Jerry, changing his tone at once. "I'll come down." + +His steps descended the noisy stairs rapidly; the door creaked. Then +voices began again outside the house, an indistinct mumble, rising to +one sharp height in an exclamation. + +Almost at once steps again sounded on the stairs, but softly now. Bard +went quietly to the door, locked it, and stole back to the window. Below +it extended the roof of a shed, joining the main body of the house only +a few feet under his window and sloping to what could not have been a +dangerous distance from the ground. He raised the window-sash. + +Yet he waited, something as he had waited for Sally Fortune to speak +earlier in the night, with a sense of danger, but a danger which +thrilled and delighted him. No game of polo could match suspense like +this. Besides, he would be foolish to go before he was sure. + +The walls were gaping with cracks that carried the sounds, and now he +heard a sibilant whisper with a perfect clearness. + +"This is the room." + +There was a click as the lock was tried. + +"Locked, damn it!" + +"Shut up, Butch. Jerry, have you got a bar, or anything? We'll pry it +down and break in on him before he can get in action." + +"You're a fool, McNamara. That feller don't take a wink to get into +action. Sure he didn't hear you when you hollered out the window? That +was a fool move, Wood." + +"I don't think he heard. There wasn't any sound from his room when I +passed it goin' downstairs. Think of the nerve of this bird comin' here +to roost after what he done." + +"He didn't think we'd follow him so fast." + +But Anthony waited for no more. He slipped out on the roof of the shed, +lowered himself hand below hand to the edge, and dropped lightly to the +ground. + +The grey, at his coming, flattened back its ears, as though it knew that +more hard work was coming, but he saddled rapidly, led it outside, and +rode a short distance into the forest. There he stopped. + +His course lay due north, and then a swerve to the side and a straight +course west for the ranch of William Drew. If the hounds of the law were +so close on his trace, they certainly would never suspect him of +doubling back in this manner, and he would have the rancher to himself +when he arrived. + +Yet still he did not start the grey forward to the north. For to the +south lay Sally Fortune, and at the thought of her a singular hollowness +came about his heart, a loneliness, not for himself, but for her. Yes, +in a strange way all self was blotted from his emotion. + +It would be a surrender to turn back--now. + +And like a defeated man who rides in a lost cause, he swung the grey to +the south and rode back over the trail, his head bowed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +"TODO ES PERDO" + +It was not long after the departure of Bard that Sally Fortune awoke. +For a step had creaked on the floor, and she looked up to find Steve +Nash standing in the centre of the room with the firelight gloomily +about him; behind, blocking the door with his squat figure, stood Shorty +Kilrain. + +"Where's your side-kicker?" asked Nash. "Where's Bard?" + +And looking across the room, she saw that the other bunk was empty. She +raised her arms quickly, as if to stifle a yawn, and sat up in the bunk, +holding the blanket close about her shoulders. The face she showed to +Nash was calmly contemptuous. + +"The bird seems to be flown, eh?" she queried. + +"Where is he?" he repeated, and made a step nearer. + +She knew at last that her power over him as a woman was gone; she caught +the danger of his tone, saw it in the steadiness of the eyes he fixed +upon her. Behind was a great, vague feeling of loss, the old hollowness +about the heart. It made her reckless of consequences; and when Nash +asked, "Is he hangin' around behind the corner, maybe?" she cried: + +"If he was that close you'd have sense enough to run, Steve." + +The snarl of Nash showed his teeth. + +"Out with it. The tenderfoot ain't left his woman fur away. Where's he +gone? Who's he gone to shoot in the back? Where's the hoss he started +out to rustle?" + +"Kind of peeved, Nash, eh?" + +One step more he made, towering above her. + +"I've done bein' polite, Sally. I've asked you a question." + +"And I've answered you: I don't know." + +"Sally, I'm patient; I don't mean no wrong to you. What you've been to +me I'm goin' to bust myself tryin' to forget; but don't lie to me now." + +Such a far greater woe kept up a throbbing ache in the hollow of her +throat that now she laughed, laughed slowly, deliberately. He leaned, +caught her wrist in a crushing pressure. + +"You demon; you she-devil!" + +She whirled out of the bunk, the blanket caught about her like the toga +of some ancient Roman girl; and as she moved she had swept up something +heavy and bright from the floor. + +All this, and still his grip was on her left arm. + +"Drop your hand, Nash." + +With a falling of the heart, she knew that he did not fear her gun; +instead, a light of pleasure gleamed in his eyes and his lower jaw +thrust out. + +She would never forget his face as he looked that moment. + +"Will you tell me?" + +"I'll see you in hell first." + +By that wrist he drew her resistlessly toward him, and his other arm +went about her and crushed her close; hate, shame, rage, love were in +the contorted face above her. She pressed the muzzle of her revolver +against his side. + +"You're in beckoning distance of that hell, Steve!" + +"You she-wolf--shoot and be damned! I'd live long enough to strangle +you." + +"You know me, Steve; don't be a fool." + +"Know you? Nobody knows you. And God Almighty, Sally, I love you worse'n +ever; love the very way you hate me. Come here!" + +He jerked her closer still, leaned; and she remembered then that +Anthony had never kissed her. She said: + +"You're safe; you know he can't see you." + +He threw her from him and stood snarling like a dog growling for the +bone it fears to touch because there may be poison in the taste--a +starving dog, and a bone full of toothsome marrow which has only to be +crushed in order that it may be enjoyed. + +"I'm wishin' nothin' more than that he could see me." + +"Then you're a worse fool than I took you for, Steve. You know he'd go +through ten like you." + +"There ain't no man has gone through me yet." + +"But he would. You know it. He's not stronger, maybe not so strong. But +he was born to win, Steve; he's like--he's like Drew, in a way. He can't +fail." + +"If I wrung that throat of yours," he said, "I know I couldn't get out +of you where he's gone." + +"Because I don't know, you see." + +"Don't know?" + +"He's given me the slip." + +"You!" + +"Funny, ain't it? But he has. Thought I couldn't ride fast enough to +keep up with him, maybe. He's gone on east, of course." + +"That's another lie." + +"Well, you know." + +"I do." + +His voice changed. + +"Has he really beat it away from you, Sally?" + +She watched him with a strange, sneering smile. Then she stepped close. + +"Lean your ear down to me, Steve." + +He obeyed. + +"I'll tell you what ought to make you happy. He don't care for me no +more than I care for--you, Steve." + +He straightened again, wondering. + +"And you?" + +"I threw myself at him. I dunno why I'm tellin' you, except it's right +that you should know. But he don't want me; he's gone on without me." + +"An' you like him still?" + +She merely stared, with a sick smile. + +"My God!" he murmured, shaken deep with wonder. "What's he made of?" + +"Steel and fire--that's all." + +"Listen, Sally, forget what I've done, and--" + +"Would you drop his trail, Steve?" + +He cursed through his set teeth. + +"If that's it--no. It's him or me, and I'm sure to beat him out. +Afterwards you'll forget him." + +"Try me." + +"Girls have said that before. I'll wait. There ain't no one but you for +me--damn you--I know that. I'll get him first, and then I'll wait." + +"Ten like you couldn't get him." + +"I've six men behind me." + +She was still defiant, but her colour changed. + +"Six, Sally, and he's out here among the hills, not knowing his right +from his left. I ask you: has he got a chance?" + +She answered: "No; not one." + +He turned on his heel, beckoned to Kilrain, who had stood moveless +through the strange dialogue, and went out into the night. + +As they mounted he said: "We're going straight for the place where I +told Butch Conklin I'd meet him. Then the bunch of us will come back." + +"Why waste time?" + +"Because he's sure to come back. Shorty, after a feller has seen Sally +smile--the way she can smile--he couldn't keep away. I _know_!" + +They rode off at a slow trot, like men who have resigned themselves to a +long journey, and Sally watched them from the door. She sat down, +crosslegged, before the fire, and stirred the embers, and strove to +think. + +But she was not equipped for thinking, all her life had been merely +action, action, action, and now, as she strove to build out some logical +sequence and find her destiny in it, she failed miserably, and fell back +upon herself. She was one of those single-minded people who give +themselves up to emotion rarely, but when they do their whole body, +their whole soul burns in the flame. + +Into her mind came a phrase she had heard in her childhood. On the +outskirts of Eldara there was a little shack owned by a Mexican--José, +he was called, and nothing else, "Greaser" José. One night an alarm of +fire was given in Eldara, and the whole populace turned out to enjoy the +sight; it was a festival occasion, in a way. It was the house of Greaser +José. + +The cowpunchers manned a bucket line, but the source of water was far +away, the line too long, and the flames gained faster than they could be +quenched. All through the work of fire-fighting Greaser José was +everywhere about the house, flinging buckets of water through the +windows into the red furnace within; his wife and the two children stood +stupidly, staring, dumb. But in the end, when the fire was towering +above the roof of the house, roaring and crackling, the Mexican suddenly +raised a long arm and called to the bucket line, "It is done. Señors, I +thank you." + +Then he had folded his arms and repeated in a monotone, over and over +again: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo_!" + +His wife came to him, frantic, wailing, and threw her arms around his +neck. He merely repeated with heavy monotony: "_Todo es perdo; todo es +perdo_!" + +The phrase clung in the mind of the girl; and she rose at last and went +back to her bunk, repeating: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo! All is +lost; all is lost_!" + +No tears were in her eyes; they were wide and solemn, looking up to the +shadows of the ceiling, and so she went to sleep with the solemn Spanish +phrase echoing through her whole being: "_Todo es perdo_!" + +She woke with the smell of frying bacon pungent in her nostrils. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +BACON + +The savour of roasting chicken, that first delicious burst of aroma when +the oven door is opened, would tempt an angel from heaven down to the +lowly earth. A Southerner declares that his nostrils can detect at a +prodigious distance the cooking of "possum and taters." A Kanaka has a +cosmopolitan appetite, but the fragrance which moves him most nearly is +the scent of fish baking in Ti leaves. A Frenchman waits unmoved until +the perfume of some rich lamb ragout, an air laden with spices, is +wafted toward him. + +Every man and every nation has a special dish, in general; there is only +one whose appeal is universal. It is not for any class or nation; it is +primarily for "the hungry man," no matter what has given him an +appetite. It may be that he has pushed a pen all day, or reckoned up +vast columns, or wielded a sledge-hammer, or ridden a wild horse from +morning to night; but the savour of peculiar excellence to the nostrils +of this universal hungry man is the smell of frying bacon. + +A keen appetite is even stronger than sorrow, and when Sally Fortune +awoke with that strong perfume in her nostrils, she sat straight up +among the blankets, startled as the cavalry horse by the sound of the +trumpet. What she saw was Anthony Bard kneeling by the coals of the fire +over which steamed a coffee-pot on one side and a pan of crisping bacon +on the other. + +The vision shook her so that she rubbed her eyes and stared again to +make sure. It did not seem possible that she had actually wakened during +the night and found him gone, and with this reality before her she was +strongly tempted to believe that the coming of Nash was only a vivid +dream. + +"Morning, Anthony." + +He turned his head quickly and smiled to her. + +"Hello, Sally." + +He was back at once, turning the bacon, which was done on the first +side. Seeing that his back was turned, she dressed quickly. + +"How'd you sleep?" + +"Well." + +"Where?" + +He turned more slowly this time. + +"You woke up in the middle of the night?" + +"Yes." + +"What wakened you?" + +"Nash and Kilrain." + +He sighed: "I wish I'd been here." + +She answered: "I'll wash up; we'll eat; and then off on the trail. I've +an idea that the two will be back, and they'll have more men behind +them." + +After a little her voice called from the outside: "Anthony, have you had +a look at the morning?" + +He came obediently to the doorway. The sun had not yet risen, but the +fresh, rose-coloured light already swept around the horizon throwing +the hills in sharp relief and flushing, faraway, the pure snows of the +Little Brothers. And so blinding was the sheen of the lake that it +seemed at first as though the sun were about to break from the waters, +for there all the radiance of the sunrise was reflected, concentrated. + +Looking in this manner from the doorway, with the water on either side +and straight ahead, and the dark, narrow point of land cutting that +colour like a prow, it seemed to Anthony almost as if he stood on the +bridge of a ship which in another moment would gather head and sail out +toward the sea of fresh beauty beyond the peaks, for the old house of +William Drew stood on a small peninsula, thrusting out into the lake, a +low, shelving shore, scattered with trees. + +Where the little tongue of land joined the main shore the ground rose +abruptly into a shoulder of rocks inaccessible to a horse; the entrance +and exit to the house must be on either side of this shoulder hugging +closely the edge of the water. + +Feeling that halo of the morning about them, for a moment Anthony forgot +all things in the lift and exhilaration of the keen air; and he accepted +the girl as a full and equal partner in his happiness, looking to her +for sympathy. + +She knelt by the edge of the water, face and throat shining and wet, her +head bending back, her lips parted and smiling. It thrilled him as if +she were singing a silent song which made the brightness of the morning +and the colour beyond the peaks. He almost waited to see her throat +quiver--hear the high, sweet tone. + +But a scent of telltale sharpness drew him a thousand leagues down and +made him whirl with a cry of dismay: "The bacon, Sally!" + +It was hopelessly burned; some of it was even charred on the bottom of +the pan. Sally, returning on the run, took charge of the cookery and +went about it with a speed and ability that kept him silent; which being +the ideal mood for a spectator, he watched and found himself learning +much. + +Whatever that scene of the night before meant in the small and definite, +in the large and vague it meant that he had a claim of some sort on +Sally Fortune and it is only when a man feels that he has this claim, +this proprietorship, as it were, that he begins to see a woman clearly. + +Before this his observance has been half blind through prejudice either +for or against; he either sees her magnified with adulation, or else the +large end of the glass is placed against his eye and she is merely a +speck in the distance. But let a woman step past that mysterious wall +which separates the formal from the intimate--only one step--at once she +is surrounded by the eyes of a man as if by a thousand spies. So it was +with Anthony. + +It moved him, for instance, to see the supple strength of her fingers +when she was scraping the charred bacon from the bottom of the pan, and +he was particularly fascinated by the undulations of the small, round +wrist. He glanced down to his own hand, broad and bony in comparison. + +It was his absorption in this criticism that served to keep him aloof +from her while they ate, and the girl felt it like an arm pushing her +away. She had been very close to him not many hours before; now she was +far away. She could understand nothing but the pain of it. + +As he finished his coffee he said, staring into a corner: "I don't know +why I came back to you, Sally." + +"You didn't mean to come back when you started?" + +"Of course not." + +She flushed, and her heart beat loudly to hear his weakness. He was +keeping nothing from her; he was thinking aloud; she felt that the bars +between them were down again. + +"In the first place I went because I had to be seen and known by name in +some place far away from you. That was for your sake. In the second +place I had to be alone for the work that lay ahead." + +"Drew?" + +"Yes. It all worked like a charm. I went to the house of Jerry Wood, +told him my name, stayed there until Conklin and several others arrived, +hunting for me, and then gave them the slip." + +She did not look up from her occupation, which was the skilful cleaning +of her gun. + +"It was perfect; the way clear before me; I had dodged through their +lines, so to speak, when I gave Conklin the slip, and I could ride +straight for Drew and catch him unprepared. Isn't that clear?" + +"But you didn't?" + +She was so calm about it that he grew a little angry; she would not look +up from the cleaning of the gun. + +"That's the devil of it; I couldn't stay away. I had to come back to +you." + +She restored the gun to her holster and looked steadily at him; he felt +a certain shock in countering her glance. + +"Because I thought you might be lonely, Sally." + +"I was." + +It was strange to see how little fencing there was between them. They +were like men, long tried in friendship and working together on a great +problem full of significance to both. + +"Do you know what I kept sayin' to myself when I found you was gone?" + +"Well?" + +"Todo es perdo; todo es perdo!" + +She had said it so often to herself that now some of the original +emotion crept into her voice. His arm went out; they shook hands across +their breakfast pans. + +She went on: "The next thing is Drew?" + +"Yes." + +"There's no changing you." She did not wait for his answer. "I know +that. I won't ask questions. If it has to be done we'll do it quickly; +and afterward I can find a way out for us both." + +Something like a foreknowledge came to him, telling him that the thing +would never be done--that he had surrendered his last chance of Drew +when he turned back to go to Sally. It was as if he took a choice +between the killing of the man and the love of the woman. But he said +nothing of his forebodings and helped her quietly to rearrange the small +pack. They saddled and took the trail which pointed up over the +mountains--the same trail which they had ridden in an opposite direction +the night before. + +He rode with his head turned, taking his last look at the old house of +Drew, with its blackened, crumbling sides, when the girl cried softly: +"What's that? Look!" + +He stared in the direction of her pointing arm. They were almost +directly under the shoulder of rocks which loomed above the trail along +the edge of the lake. Anthony saw nothing. + +"What was it?" + +He checked his horse beside hers. + +"I thought I saw something move. I'm not sure. And there--back, +Anthony!" + +And she whirled her horse. He caught it this time clearly, the +unmistakable glint of the morning light on steel, and he turned the grey +sharply. At the same time a rattling blast of revolver shots crackled +above them; the grey reared and pitched back. + +By inches he escaped the fall of the horse, slipping from the saddle in +the nick of time. A bullet whipped his hat from his head. Then the hand +of the girl clutched his shoulder. + +"Stirrup and saddle, Anthony!" + +He seized the pommel of the saddle, hooked his foot into the stirrup +which she abandoned to him, and she spurred back toward the old house. + +A shout followed them, a roar that ended in a harsh rattle of curses; +they heard the spat of bullets several times on the trees past which +they whirled. But it was only a second before they were once more in the +shelter of the house. He stood in the centre of the room, stunned, +staring stupidly around him. It was not fear of death that benumbed him, +but a rising horror that he should be so trapped--like a wild beast +cornered and about to be worried to death by dogs. + +As for escape, there was simply no chance--it was impossible. On three +sides the lake, still beautiful, though the colour was fading from it, +effectively blocked their way. On the fourth and narrowest side there +was the shoulder of rocks, not only blocking them, but affording a +perfect shelter for Nash and his men, for they did not doubt that it was +he. + +"They think they've got us," said a fiercely exultant voice beside him, +"but we ain't started to make all the trouble we're goin' to make." + +Life came back to him as he looked at her. She was trembling with +excitement, but it was the tremor of eagerness, not the unmistakable +sick palsy of fear. He drew out a large handkerchief of fine, white +linen and tied it to a long splinter of wood which he tore away from one +of the rotten boards. + +"Go out with this," he said. "They aren't after you, Sally. This is west +of the Rockies, thank God, and a woman is safe with the worst man that +ever committed murder." + +She said: "D'you mean this, Anthony?" + +"I'm trying to mean it." + +She snatched the stick and snapped it into small pieces. + +"Does that look final, Anthony?" + +He could not answer for a moment. At last he said: "What a woman you +would have made for a wife, Sally Fortune; what a fine pal!" + +But she laughed, a mirth not forced and harsh, but clear and ringing. + +"Anthony, ain't this better'n marriage?" + +"By God," he answered, "I almost think you're right." + +For answer a bullet ripped through the right-hand wall and buried itself +in a beam on the opposite side of the room. + +"Listen!" she said. + +There was a fresh crackle of guns, the reports louder and longer drawn. + +"Rifles," said Sally Fortune. "I knew no bullet from a six-gun could +carry like that one." + +The little, sharp sounds of splintering and crunching began everywhere. +A cloud of soot spilled down the chimney and across the hearth. A furrow +ploughed across the floor, lifting a splinter as long and even as if it +had been grooved out by a machine. + +"Look!" said Sally, "they're firin' breast high to catch us standing, +and on the level of the floor to get us if we lie down. That's Nash. I +know his trademark." + +"From the back of the house we can answer them," said Bard. "Let's try +it." + +"Pepper for their salt, eh?" answered Sally, and they ran back through +the old shack to the last room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +LEGAL MURDER + +As Drew entered his bedroom he found the doctor in the act of restoring +the thermometer to its case. His coat was off and his sleeves rolled up +to the elbow; he looked more like a man preparing to chop wood than a +physician engaging in a struggle with death; but Dr. Young had the +fighting strain. Otherwise he would never have persisted in Eldara. + +Already the subtle atmosphere of sickness had come upon the room. The +shades of the windows were drawn evenly, and low down, so that the +increasing brightness of the morning could only temper, not wholly +dismiss the shadows. Night is the only reality of the sick-bed; the day +is only a long evening, a waiting for the utter dark. The doctor's +little square satchel of instruments, vials, and bandages lay open on +the table; he had changed the apartment as utterly as he had changed his +face by putting on great, horn-rimmed spectacles. They gave an owl-like +look to him, an air of omniscience. It seemed as if no mortal ailment +could persist in the face of such wisdom. + +"Well?" whispered Drew. + +"You can speak out, but not loudly," said the doctor calmly. "He's +delirious; the fever is getting its hold." + +"What do you think?" + +"Nothing. The time hasn't come for thinking." + +He bent his emotionless eye closer on the big rancher. + +"You," he said, "ought to be in bed this moment." + +Drew waved the suggestion aside. + +"Let me give you a sedative," added Young. + +"Nonsense. I'm going to stay here." + +The doctor gave up the effort; dismissed Drew from his mind, and focused +his glance on the patient once more. Calamity Ben was moving his head +restlessly from side to side, keeping up a gibbering mutter. It rose now +to words. + +"Joe, a mule is to a hoss what a woman is to a man. Ever notice? The +difference ain't so much in what they do as what they don't do. Me +speakin' personal, I'll take a lot from any hoss and lay it to jest +plain spirit; but a mule can make me mad by standin' still and doin' +nothing but wablin' them long ears as if it understood things it wasn't +goin' to speak about. Y' always feel around a mule as if it knew +somethin' about you--had somethin' on you--and was laughin' soft and +deep inside. Damn a mule! I remember--" + +But here he sank into the steady, voiceless whisper again, the shadow of +a sound rather than the reality. It was ghostly to hear, even by +daylight. + +"Will it keep up long?" asked Drew. + +"Maybe until he dies." + +"I've told you before; it's impossible for him to die." + +The doctor made a gesture of resignation. + +He explained: "As long as this fever grows our man will steadily weaken; +it shows that he's on the downward path. If it breaks--why, that means +that he will have a chance--more than a chance--to get well. It will +mean that he has enough reserve strength to fight off the shock of the +wound and survive the loss of the blood." + +"It will mean," said Drew, apparently thinking aloud, "that the guilt of +murder does not fall on Anthony." + +"Who is Anthony?" + +The wounded man broke in; his voice rose high and sharp: "Halt!" + +He went on, in a sighing mumble: "Shorty--help--I'm done for!" + +"The shooting," said the doctor, who had kept his fingers on the wrist +of his patient; "I could feel his pulse leap and stop when he said +that." + +"He said 'halt!' first; a very clear sign that he tried to stop Bard +before Bard shot. Doctor, you're witness to that?" + +He had grown deeply excited. + +"I'm witness to nothing. I never dreamed that you could be so interested +in any human being." + +He nodded to himself. + +"Do you know how I explained your greyness to myself? As that of a man +ennuied with life--tired of living because he had nothing in the world +to occupy his affections. And here I find you so far from being ennuied +that you are using your whole strength to keep the guilt of murder away +from another man. It's amazing. The boys will never believe it." + +He continued: "A man who raised a riot in your own house, almost burned +down your place, shot your man, stole a horse--gad, Drew, you are +sublime!" + +But if he expected an explanatory answer from the rancher he was +disappointed. The latter pulled up a chair beside the bed and bent his +stern eyes on the patient as if he were concentrating all of a great +will on bringing Calamity Ben back to health. + +He worked with the doctor. Every half hour a temperature was taken, and +it was going up steadily. Drew heard the report each time with a +tightening of the muscles about his jaws. He helped pack the wounded man +with wet cloths. He ran out and stopped a wrangling noise of the +cowpunchers several times. But mostly he sat without motion beside the +bed, trying to will the sufferer back to life. + +And in the middle of the morning, after taking a temperature, the doctor +looked to the rancher with a sort of dull wonder. + +"It's dropping?" whispered Drew. + +"It's lower. I don't think it's dropping. It can't be going down so +soon. Wait till the next time I register it. If it's still lower then, +he'll get well." + +The grey man sagged forward from his chair to his knees and took the +hands of Calamity, long-fingered, bony, cold hands they were. There he +remained, moveless, his keen eyes close to the wandering stare of the +delirious man. Out of the exhaustless reservoir of his will he seemed to +be injecting an electric strength into the other, a steadying and even +flow of power that passed from his hands and into the body of Calamity. + +When the time came, and Young stood looking down at the thermometer, +Drew lifted haggard eyes, waiting. + +"It's lower!" + +The great arms of the rancher were thrown above his head; he rose, +changed, triumphant, as if he had torn his happiness from the heart of +the heavens, and went hastily from the room, silent. + +At the stable he took his great bay, saddled him, and swung out on the +trail for Eldara, a short, rough trail which led across the +Saverack--the same course which Nash and Bard had taken the day before. + +But the river had greatly fallen--the water hardly washed above the +knees of the horse except in the centre of the stream; by noon he +reached the town and went straight for the office of Glendin. The deputy +was not there, and the rancher was referred to Murphy's saloon. + +There he found Glendin, seated at a corner table with a glass of beer in +front of him, and considering the sun-whitened landscape lazily through +the window. At the sound of the heavy footfall of Drew he turned, rose, +his shoulders flattened against the wall behind him like a cornered man +prepared for a desperate stand. + +"It's all right," cried Drew. "It's all over, Glendin. Duffy won't press +any charges against Bard; he says that he's given the horse away. And +Calamity Ben is going to live." + +"Who says he will?" + +"I've just ridden in from his bedside. Dr. Young says the crisis is +past. And so--thank God--there's no danger to Bard; he's free from the +law!" + +"Too late," said the deputy. + +It did not seem that Drew heard him. He stepped closer and turned his +head. + +"What's that?" + +"Too late. I've sent out men to--to apprehend Bard." + +"Apprehend him?" repeated Drew. "Is it possible? To murder him, you +mean!" + +He had not made a threatening move, but the deputy had his grip on the +butt of his gun. + +"It was that devil Nash. He persuaded me to send out a posse with him in +charge." + +"And you sent him?" + +"What could I do? Ain't it legal?" + +"Murder is legal--sometimes. It has been in the past. I've an idea that +it's going to be again." + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"You'll learn later. Where did they go for Bard?" + +He did not seem disappointed. He was rather like a man who had already +heard bad news and now only finds it confirmed. He knew before. Now the +fact was simply clinched. + +"They went out to your old place on the other side of the range. Drew, +listen to me--" + +"How many went after him?" + +"Nash, Butch Conklin, and five more. Butch's gang." + +"Conklin!" + +"I was in a hole; I needed men." + +"How long have they been gone?" + +"Since last night." + +"Then," said Drew, "he's already dead. He doesn't know the mountains." + +"I give Nash strict orders not to do nothin' but apprehend Bard." + +"Don't talk, Glendin. It disgusts me--makes my flesh crawl. He's alone, +with seven cutthroats against him." + +"Not alone. Sally Fortune's better'n two common men." + +"The girl? God bless her! She's with him; she knows the country. There +may be a hope; Glendin, if you're wise, start praying now that I find +Bard alive. If I don't--" + +The swinging doors closed behind him as he rushed through toward his +horse. Glendin stood dazed, his face mottled with a sick pallor. Then he +moved automatically toward the bar. Murphy hobbled down the length of +the room on his wooden leg and placed bottle and glass before the +deputy. + +"Well?" he queried. + +Glendin poured his drink with a shaking hand, spilling much liquor +across the varnished wood. He drained his glass at a gulp. + +"I dunno; what d'you think, Murphy?" + +"You heard him talk, Glendin. You ought to know what's best." + +"Let's hear you say it." + +"I'd climb the best hoss I owned and start west, and when I come to the +sea I'd take a ship and keep right on goin' till I got halfway around +the world. And then I'd climb a mountain and hire a couple of dead-shots +for guards and have my first night's sleep. After that I'd begin +thinkin' of what I could do to get away from Drew." + +"Murphy," said the other, "maybe that line of talk would sound sort of +exaggerated to some, but I ain't one of them. You've got a wooden leg, +but your brain's sound. But tell me, what in God's name makes him so +thick with the tenderfoot?" + +He waited for no answer, but started for the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +PARTNERS + +If Drew had done hard things in his life, few were more remorseless than +the ride on the great bay horse that day. Starting out, he reckoned +coldly the total strength of the gallant animal, the distance to his old +house, and figured that it was just within possibilities that he might +reach the place before evening. From that moment it was certain that the +horse would not survive the ride. + +It was merely a question as to whether or not the master had so gaged +his strength that the bay would not collapse before even the summit of +the range had been reached. As the miles went by the horse loosened and +extended finely to his work; sweat darkened and polished his flanks; +flecks of foam whirled back and spattered his chest and the legs of his +rider; he kept on; almost to the last the rein had to be drawn taut; to +the very last his heart was even greater than his body. + +Up the steep slopes Drew let the horse walk; every other inch of the +way it was either the fast trot or a swinging gallop, not the +mechanical, easy pace of the cattle-pony, but a driving, lunging speed. +The big hoofs literally smashed at the rocks, and the ringing of it +echoed hollowly along the rock face of the ravine. + +At the summit, for a single moment, like a bird of prey pausing in mid +circle to note the position of the field mouse before it closes wings +and bolts down out of the blue, Drew sat his horse motionless and stared +down into the valleys below until he noted the exact location of his +house--the lake glittered back and up to him in the slant light of the +late afternoon. The bay, such was the violence of its panting, literally +rocked beneath him. + +Then he started the last downward course, sweeping along the treacherous +trail with reckless speed, the rocks scattering before him. When they +straightened out on the level going beneath, the bay was staggering; +there was no longer any of the lilt and ease of the strong horse +running; it was a succession of jerks and jars, and the panting was a +sharper sound than the thunder of the hoofs. His shoulders, his flanks, +his neck--all was foam now; and little by little the proud head fell, +reached out; still he drove against the bit; still the rider had to keep +up the restraining pressure. + +Until at last he knew that the horse was dying on his feet; dying with +each heavy stride it made. Then he let the reins hang limp. It was sad +to see the answer of the bay--a snort, as if of happiness; a pricking of +the ears; a sudden lengthening of stride and quickening; a nobler lift +to the head. + +Past the margin of the lake they swept, crashed through the woods to the +right; and now, very distinctly, Drew heard the heavy drum of firing. He +groaned and drove home the spurs. And still, by some miracle, there was +something left in the horse which responded; not strength, certainly +that was gone long ago, but there was an indomitable spirit bred into it +with its fine blood by gentle care for generations. The going was +heavier among the trees, and yet the bay increased its pace. The crackle +of the rifles grew more and more distinct. A fallen trunk blocked the +way. + +With a snort the bay gathered speed, rose, cleared the trunk with a last +glorious effort, and fell dead on the other side. + +Drew disentangled his feet from the stirrup, raised the head of the +horse, stared an instant into the glazing eyes, and then turned and ran +on among the trees. Panting, dripping with sweat, his face contorted +terribly by his effort, he came at last behind that rocky shoulder +which commanded the approach to the old house. + +He found seven men sheltered there, keeping up a steady, dropping fire +on the house. McNamara sat propped against a rock, a clumsy, dirty +bandage around his thigh; Isaacs lay prone, a stained rag twisted +tightly around his shoulder; Lovel sat with his legs crossed, staring +stupidly down to the steady drip of blood from his left forearm. + +But Ufert, Kilrain, Conklin, and Nash maintained the fight; and Drew +wondered what casualties lay on the other side. + +At his rush, at the sound of his heavy footfall over the rocks, the four +turned with a single movement; Ufert covered him with a rifle, but Nash +knocked down the boy's arm. + +"We've done talkin'; it's our time to listen; understand?" + +Ufert, gone sullen, obeyed. He was at that age between youth and manhood +when the blood, despite the songs of the poets, runs slow, cold; before +the heart has been called out in love, or even in friendship; before +fear or hate or anything saving a deep egoism has possessed the brain. + +He looked about to the others for his cue. What he saw disturbed him. +Shorty Kilrain, like a boy caught playing truant, edged little by little +back against the rock; Butch Conklin, his eyes staring, had grown waxy +pale; Steve Nash himself was sullen and gloomy rather than defiant. + +And all this because of a grey man far past the prime of life who ran +stumbling, panting, toward them. At his nearer approach a flash of +understanding touched Ufert. Perhaps it was the sheer bulk of the +newcomer; perhaps, more than this, it was something of stern dignity +that oppressed the boy with awe. He fought against the feeling, but he +was uneasy; he wanted to be far away from that place. + +Straight upon them the big grey man strode and halted in front of Nash. + +He said, his voice harsh and broken by his running: "I ordered you to +bring him to me unharmed. What does this mean, Nash?" + +The cowpuncher answered sulkily: "Glendin sent us out." + +"Don't lie. You sent yourself and took these men. I've seen Glendin." + +His wrath was tempered with a sneer. + +"But here you are four against one. Go down and bring him out to me +alive!" + +There was no answer. + +"You said you wanted no odds against any one man." + +"When a man and a woman stand together," answered Nash, "they're worse +than a hundred. That devil, Sally Fortune, is down there with him." + +A gun cracked from the house; the bullet chipped the rock with an evil +clang, and the flake of stone whirled through the air and landed at the +feet of Drew. + +"There's your answer," said Nash. "But we've got the rat cornered." + +"Wrong again. Calamity Ben is going to live--" + +A cry of joy came from Shorty Kilrain. + +"Duffy says that he gave his horse away to Bard. Glendin has called back +your posse. Ride, Nash! Or else go down there unarmed and bring Bard up +to me." + +The shadow of a smile crossed the lips of Nash. + +"If the law's done with him, I'm not. I won't ride, and I won't go down +to him. I've got the upper hand and I'm going to hold it." + +"If you're afraid to go down, I will." + +Drew unbuckled his cartridge belt and tossed it with his gun against the +rocks. He drew out a white handkerchief, and holding it above him, at a +full arm's length, he stepped out from the shelter. The others, +gathering at their places of vantage, watched his progress toward the +house. Steve Nash described it to the wounded men, who had dragged +themselves half erect. + +"He's walkin' right toward the house, wavin' the white rag. They ain't +goin' to shoot. He's goin' around the side of the house. He's stopped +there under the trees." + +"Where?" + +"At that grave of his wife under the two trees. He waits there like he +expected Bard to come out to him. And, by God, there goes Bard to meet +him--right out into the open." + +"Steady, Steve! Drop that gun! If you shoot now you'll have Drew on your +head afterward." + +"Don't I know it? But God, wouldn't it be easy? I got him square inside +the sights. Jest press the trigger and Anthony Bard is done for. He +walks up to Drew. He's got no gun on. He's empty-handed jest like Drew. +He's said something short and quick and starts to step across the grave. + +"Drew points down to it and makes an answer. Bard steps back like he'd +been hit across the face and stands there lookin' at the mound. What did +Drew say? I'd give ten years of life to hear that talk! + +"Bard looks sort of stunned; he stands there with a hand shadin' his +eyes, but the sun ain't that bright. Well, I knew nobody could ever +stand up to Drew. + +"The chief is talkin' fast and hard. The young feller shakes his head. +Drew begins talkin' again. You'd think he was pleadin' for his life in +front of a jury that meant him wrong. His hands go out like he was +makin' an election speech. He holds one hand down like he was measurin' +the height of a kid. He throws up his arms again like he'd lost +everything in the world. + +"And now Bard has dropped the hand from his face. He looks sort of +interested. He steps closer to the grave again. Drew holds out both his +arms. By God, boys, he's pleadin' with Bard. + +"And the head of Bard is dropped. How's it goin' to turn out? Drew wins, +of course. There goes Bard's hand out as if it was pulled ag'in' his +will. Drew catches it in both his own. Boys, here's where we grab our +hosses and beat it." + +He turned from the rocks in haste. + +"What d'you mean?" cried Conklin. "Steve, are you goin' to leave us here +to finish the job you started?" + +"Finish it? You fools! Don't you see that Drew and Bard is pals now? If +we couldn't finish Bard alone, how'd we make out ag'in' the two of them? +The game's up, boys; the thing that's left is for us to save our +hides--if we can--before them two start after us. If they do start, then +God help us all!" + +He was already in the saddle. + +"Wait!" called Conklin. "One of 'em's a tenderfoot. The other has left +his gun here. What we got to fear from 'em?" + +And Nash snarled in return: "If there was a chance, don't you think I'd +take it? Don't you see I'm givin' up everythin' that amounts to a damn +with me? Tenderfoot? He may act Eastern and he may talk Eastern, but +he's got Western blood. There ain't no other way of explainin' it. And +Drew? He didn't have no gun when he busted the back of old Piotto. I +say, there's two men, armed or not, and between 'em they can do more'n +all of us could dream of. Boys, are you comin'?" + +They went. The wounded were dragged to their feet and hoisted to their +horses, groaning. At a slow walk they started down through the trees. +Evening fell; the shadows slanted about them. They moved faster--at a +trot--at a gallop. They were like men flying from a certain ruin. Beyond +the margin of the bright lake they fled and lost themselves in the vast, +secret heart of the mountain-desert. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +SALLY WEEPS + +All that day, in a silence broken only by murmurs and side glances, +Anthony and Sally Fortune moved about the old house from window to +window, and from crack to crack, keeping a steady eye on the commanding +rocks above. In one of those murmurs they made their resolution. When +night came they would rush the rocks, storm them from the front, and +take their chance with what might follow. But the night promised to give +but little shelter to their stalking. + +For in the late afternoon a broad moon was already climbing up from the +east; the sky was cloudless; there was a threat of keen, revealing +moonshine for the night. Only desperation could make them attempt to +storm the rock, but by the next morning, at the latest, reinforcements +were sure to come, and then their fight would be utterly hopeless. + +So when the light of the sun mellowed, grew yellow and slant, and the +shadows sloped from tree to tree, the two became more silent still, +drawn and pale of face, waiting. Anthony at a window, Sally at a crack +which made an excellent loophole, they remained moveless. + +It was she who noted a niche which might serve as a loophole for one of +the posse, and she fired at it, aiming low. The clang of the bullet +against rock echoes clearly back to her, like the soft chime of a sheep +bell from the peaceful distance. Then, as if in answer to her shot, +around the edge of the rocks appeared a moving rag of white which grew +into William Drew, bearing above his head the white sign of the truce. + +In her astonishment she looked to Bard. He was quivering all over like a +hound held on a tight leash, with the game in sight, hungry to be +slipped upon it. The edge of his tongue passed across his colourless +lips. He was like a man who long has ridden the white-hot desert and is +now about to drink. There was the same wild gleam in his eyes; his hand +shook with nervous eagerness as he shifted and balanced his revolver. +Listening, in her awe, she heard the sound of his increasing panting; a +sound like the breath of a running man approaching her swiftly. + +She slipped to his side. + +"Anthony!" + +He did not answer; his gun steadied; the barrel began to incline down; +his left eye was squinting. She dropped to her knees and seized his +wrist. + +"Anthony, what are you going to do?" + +"It's Drew!" he whispered, and she did not recognize his voice. "It's +the grey man I've waited for. It's he!" + +In such a tone a dying man might speak of his hope of heaven--seeing it +unroll before him in his delirium. + +"But he's carrying the flag of truce, Anthony. You see that?" + +"I see nothing except his face. It blots out the rest of the world. I'll +plant my shot there--there in the middle of those lips." + +"Anthony, that's William Drew, the squarest man on the range." + +"Sally Fortune, that's William Drew, who murdered my father!" + +"Ah!" she said, with sharply indrawn breath. "It isn't possible!" + +"I saw the shot fired." + +"But not this way, Anthony; not from behind a wall!" + +His emotion changed him, made him almost a stranger to her. He was +shaking and palsied with eagerness. + +"I could do nothing as bad as the crime he has done. For twenty years +the dread of his coming haunted my father, broke him, aged him +prematurely. Every day he went to a secret room and cared for his +revolver--this gun here in my hand, you see? He and I--we were more than +father and son--we were pals, Sally. And then this devil called my +father out into the night and shot him. Damn him!" + +"You've got to listen to me, Anthony--" + +"I'll listen to nothing, for there he is and--" + +She said with a sharp, rising ring in her voice: "If you shoot at him +while he carries that white flag I'll--I'll send a bullet through your +head--that's straight! We got only one law in the mountains, and that's +the law of honour. If you bust that, I'm done with you, Anthony." + +"Take my gun--take it quickly, Sally, I can't trust myself; looking at +him, I can see the place where the bullet should strike home." + +He forced the butt of his revolver into her hands, rose, and stepped to +the door, his hands clasped behind his back. + +"Tell me what he does." + +"He's comin' straight toward us as if he didn't fear nothin'--grey +William Drew! He's not packin' a gun; he trusts us." + +"The better way," answered Bard. "Bare hands--the better way!" + +"He has killed men with those bare hands of his. I can see 'em +clear--great, blunt-fingered hands, Anthony. He's coming around the side +of the house. I'll go into the front room." + +She ran past Anthony and paused in the habitable room, spying through a +crack in the wall. And Anthony stood with his eyes tightly closed, his +head bowed. The image of the leashed hound came more vividly to her when +she glanced back at him. + +"He's walkin' right up the path. There he stops." + +"Where?" + +"Right beside the old grave." + +"Anthony!" called a deep voice. "Anthony, come out to me!" + +He started, and then groaned and stopped himself. + +"Is the sign of the truce still over his head, Sally?" + +"Yes." + +"I daren't go out to him--I'd jump at his throat." + +She came beside him. + +"It means something besides war. I can see it in his face. Pain--sorrow, +Anthony, but not a wish for fightin'." + +From the left side of his cartridge belt a stout-handled, long-bladed +hunting-knife was suspended. He disengaged the belt and tossed it to the +floor. Still he paused. + +"If I go, I'll break the truce, Sally." + +"You won't; you're a man, Anthony; and remember that you're on the +range, and the law of the range holds you." + +"Anthony!" called the deep voice without. + +He shuddered violently. + +"What is it?" + +"It sounds--like the voice of my father calling me! I must go!" + +She clung to him. + +"Not till you're calmer." + +"My father died in my arms," he answered; "let me go." + +He thrust her aside and strode out through the door. + +On the farther side of the grave stood Drew, his grey head bare, and +looking past him Anthony saw the snow-clad tops of the Little Brother, +grey also in the light of the evening. And the trees whose branches +interwove above the grave--grey also with moss. The trees, the mountain, +the old headstone, the man--they blended into a whole. + +"Anthony!" said the man, "I have waited half my life for this!" + +"And I," said Bard, "have waited a few weeks that seem longer than all +my life, for this!" + +His own eager panting stopped him, but he stumbled on: "I have you here +in reach at last, Drew, and I'm going to tear your heart out, as you +tore the heart out of John Bard." + +"Ah, Anthony," said the other, "my heart was torn out when you were +born; it was torn out and buried here." + +And to the wild eyes of Anthony it seemed as if the great body of Drew, +so feared through the mountain-desert, was now enveloped with weakness, +humbled by some incredible burden. + +After that a mist obscured his eyes; he could not see more than an +outline of the great shape before him; his throat contracted as if a +hand gripped him there, and an odd tingling came at the tips of his +fingers. He moved forward. + +"It is more than I dreamed," he said hoarsely, as his foot planted +firmly on the top of the grave, and he poised himself an instant before +flinging himself on the grey giant. "It is more than I dreamed for--to +face you--alone!" + +And a solemn, even voice answered him, "We are not alone." + +"Not alone, but the others are too far off to stop me." + +"Not alone, Anthony, for your mother is here between us." + +Like a fog under a wind, the mist swept from the eyes of Anthony; he +looked out and saw that the face of the grey man was infinitely sad, and +there was a hungry tenderness that reached out, enveloped, weakened him. +He glanced down, saw that his heel was on the mount of the grave; saw +again the headstone and the time-blurred inscription: "Here sleeps Joan, +the wife of William Drew. She chose this place for rest." + +A mortal weakness and trembling seized him. The wind puffed against his +face, and he went staggering back, his hand caught up to his eyes. + +He closed his mind against the words which he had heard. + +But the deep organ voice spoke again: "Oh, boy, your mother!" + +In the stupor which came over him he saw two faces: the stern eyes of +John Bard, and the dark, mocking beauty of the face which had looked +down to him in John Bard's secret room. He lowered his hand from his +eyes; he stared at William Drew, and it seemed to him that it was John +Bard he looked upon. Their names differed, but long pain had touched +them with a common greyness. And it seemed to Anthony that it was only a +moment ago that the key turned in the lock of John Bard's secret room, +the hidden chamber which he kept like Bluebeard for himself, where he +went like Bluebeard to see his past; only an instant before he had +turned the key in that lock, the door opened, and this was the scene +which met his eyes--the grave, the blurred tombstone, and the stern +figure beyond. + +"Joan," he repeated; "your wife--my mother?" + +He heard a sob, not of pain, but of happiness, and knew that the blue +eyes of Sally Fortune looked out to him from the doorway of the house. + +The low voice, hurried now, broke in on him. + +"When I married Joan, John Bard fled from the range; he could not bear +to look on our happiness. You see, I had won her by chance, and he hated +me for it. If you had ever seen her, Anthony, you would understand. I +crossed the mountains and came here and built this house, for your +mother was like a wild bird, Anthony, and I did not dare to let men near +her; then a son was born, and she died giving him birth. Afterward I +lived on here, close to the place which she had chosen herself for rest. +And I was happy because the boy grew every day into a more perfect +picture of his dead mother. + +"One day when he was almost three I rode off through the hills, and when +I came back the boy was gone. I rode with a posse everywhere, hunting +him; aye, Anthony, the trail which I started then I have kept at ever +since, year after year, and here it ends where it began--at the grave of +Joan! + +"Finally I came on news that a man much like John Bard in appearance had +been seen near my house that day. Then I knew it was Bard in fact. He +had seen the image of the woman we both loved in the boy. He was all +that was left of her on earth. After these years I can read his heart +clearly; I know why he took the boy. + +"Then I left this place. I could not bear the sight of the grave; for +she slept in peace, and I lived in hell waiting for the return of my +son. + +"At last I went east; I was at Madison Square Garden and saw you ride. +It was the face of Joan that looked back at me; and I knew that I was +close to the end of the trail. + +"The next night I called out John Bard. He had been in hell all those +years, like me, for he had waited for my coming. He begged me to let +him have you; said you loved him as a father; I only laughed. So we +fought, and he fell; and then I saw you running over the lawn toward us. + +"I remembered Joan, her pride and her fierceness, and I knew that if I +waited a son would kill his father that night. So I turned and fled +through the trees. Anthony, do you believe me; do you forgive me?" + +The memory of the clumsy, hungered tenderness of John Bard swept about +Anthony. + +He cried: "How can I believe? My father has killed my father; what is +left?" + +The solemn voice replied: "Anthony, my son!" + +He saw the great, blunt-fingered hands which had killed men, which were +feared through the length and breadth of the mountain-desert, stretched +out to him. + +"Anthony Drew!" said the voice. + +His hand went out, feebly, by slow degrees, and was caught in a mighty +double clasp. Warmth flowed through him from that grasp, and a great +emotion troubled him, and a voice from deep to deep echoed within +him--the call of blood to blood. He knew the truth, for the hate burned +out in him and left only an infinite sadness. + +He said: "What of the man who loved me? Whom I love?" + +"I have done penance for that death," answered William Drew, "and I +shall do more penance before I die. For I am only your father in name, +but he is the father in your thoughts and in your love. Is it true?" + +"It is true," said Anthony. + +And the other, bitterly: "In his life he was as strong as I; in his +death he is still stronger. It is his victory; his shadow falls between +us." + +But Anthony answered: "Let us go together and bring his body and bury it +at the left side of--my mother." + +"Lad, it is the one thing we can do together, and after that?" + +A plaintive sound came to the ear of Anthony, and he looked down to see +Sally Fortune weeping at the grave of Joan. Better than both the men she +understood, perhaps. In the deep tenderness which swelled through him he +caught a sense of the drift of life through many generations of the past +and projecting into the future, men and women strong and fair and each +with a high and passionate love. + +The men died and the women changed, but the love persisted with the will +to live. It came from a thousand springs, but it rolled in one river to +one sea. The past stood there in the form of William Drew; he and Sally +made the present, and through his love of her sprang the hope of the +future. + +It was all very clear to him. The love of Bard and Drew for Joan Piotto +had not died, but passed through the flame and the torment of the three +ruined lives and returned again with gathering power as the force which +swept him and Sally Fortune out into that river and toward that far-off +sea. The last mist was brushed from his eyes. He saw with a piercing +vision the world, himself, life. He looked to William Drew and saw that +he was gazing on an old and broken man. + +He said to the old man: "Father, she is wiser than us both." + +And he pointed to Sally Fortune, still weeping softly on the grave of +Joan. + +But William Drew had no eye for her; he was fallen into a deep muse over +the blurred inscription on the headstone. He did not even raise his head +when Anthony touched Sally Fortune on the shoulder. She rose, and they +stole back together toward the house. There, as they stood close +together, Sally murmured: "It is cruel to leave him alone. He needs us +now, close to him." + +His hand wandered slowly across her hair, and he said: "Sally, how close +can we ever be to him?" + +"We can only watch and wait and try to understand," murmured Sally +Fortune. + +They were so close to the door of the ruined house, now, that a taint of +burnt powder crept out to them, a small, keen odour, and with a sudden +desire to protect her, he drew her close to him. There was no tensing of +her body when his arm went around her and he knew with a rush of +tenderness how completely, how perfectly she accepted him. Over the hand +which held her he felt soft fingers settle to keep it in its place, and +when he looked down he found that her face was raised, and the eyes +which brooded on him were misty bright, like the eyes of a child when +joy overflows in it, but awe keeps it quiet. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Trailin'!, by Max Brand + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11093 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a8cc42 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11093 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11093) diff --git a/old/11093-8.txt b/old/11093-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..69c6e12 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11093-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10512 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Trailin'!, by Max Brand + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Trailin'! + +Author: Max Brand + +Release Date: February 15, 2004 [EBook #11093] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAILIN'! *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Bill Walker and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +TRAILIN'! + +By Max Brand + + +1919 + + +To +ROBERT HOBART DAVIS +Maker of Books and Men + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + +I.------"LA-A-A-DIES AN' GEN'L'MUN" + +II.-----SPORTING CHANCE + +III.----SOCIAL SUICIDE + +IV.-----A SESSION OF CHAT + +V.------ANTHONY IS LEFT IN THE DARK + +VI.-----JOHN BARD + +VII.----BLUEBEARD'S ROOM + +VIII.---MARTY WILKES + +IX.-----"THIS PLACE FOR REST" + +X.------A BIT OF STALKING + +XI.-----THE QUEST BEGINS + +XII.----THE FIRST DAY + +XIII.---A TOUCH OF CRIMSON + +XIV.----LEMONADE + +XV.-----THE DARKNESS IN ELDARA + +XVI.----BLUFF + +XVII.---BUTCH RETURNS + +XVIII.--FOOLISH HABITS + +XIX.----THE CANDLE + +XX.-----JOAN + +XXI.----THE SWIMMING OF THE SAVERACK + +XXII.---DREW SMILES + +XXIII.--THE COMEDY SETTING + +XXIV.---"SAM'L HALL" + +XXV.----HAIR LIKE THE SUNSHINE + +XXVI.---"THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON" + +XXVII.--THE STAGE + +XXVIII.-SALLY BREAKS A MIRROR + +XXIX.---THE SHOW + +XXX.----THE LAMP + +XXXI.---NASH STARTS THE FINISH + +XXXII.--TO "APPREHEND" A MAN + +XXXIII.-NOTHING NEW + +XXXIV.--CRITICISM + +XXXV.---ABANDON + +XXXVI.--JERRY WOOD + +XXXVII.-"TODO ES PERDO" + +XXXVIII.-BACON + +XXXIX.--LEGAL MURDER + +XL.-----PARTNERS + +XLI.----SALLY WEEPS + + +_The characters, places, incidents and situations in this book are +imaginary and have no relation to any person, place or actual +happening_. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"LA-A-A-DIES AN' GEN'L'MUN" + +All through the exhibition the two sat unmoved; yet on the whole it was +the best Wild West show that ever stirred sawdust in Madison Square +Garden and it brought thunders of applause from the crowded house. Even +if the performance could not stir these two, at least the throng of +spectators should have drawn them, for all New York was there, from the +richest to the poorest; neither the combined audiences of a seven-day +race, a prize-fight, or a community singing festival would make such a +cosmopolitan assembly. + +All Manhattan came to look at the men who had lived and fought and +conquered under the limitless skies of the Far West, free men, wild +men--one of their shrill whoops banished distance and brought the +mountain desert into the very heart of the unromantic East. +Nevertheless from all these thrills these two men remained immune. + +To be sure the smaller tilted his head back when the horses first swept +in, and the larger leaned to watch when Diaz, the wizard with the +lariat, commenced to whirl his rope; but in both cases their interest +held no longer than if they had been old vaudevillians watching a series +of familiar acts dressed up with new names. + +The smaller, brown as if a thousand fierce suns and winds had tanned and +withered him, looked up at last to his burly companion with a faint +smile. + +"They're bringing on the cream now, Drew, but I'm going to spoil the +dessert." + +The other was a great, grey man whom age apparently had not weakened but +rather settled and hardened into an ironlike durability; the winds of +time or misfortune would have to break that stanch oak before it would +bend. + +He said: "We've half an hour before our train leaves. Can you play your +hand in that time?" + +"Easy. Look at 'em now--the greatest gang of liars that never threw a +diamond hitch! Ride? I've got a ten-year kid home that would laugh at +'em all. But I'll show 'em up. Want to know my little stunt?" + +"I'll wait and enjoy the surprise." + +The wild riders who provoked the scorn of the smaller man were now +gathering in the central space; a formidable crew, long of hair and +brilliant as to bandannas, while the announcer thundered through his +megaphone: + +"La-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun! You see before you the greatest band of +subduers and breakers of wild horses that ever rode the cattle ranges. +Death defying, reckless, and laughing at peril, they have never failed; +they have never pulled leather. I present 'Happy' Morgan!" + +Happy Morgan, yelling like one possessed of ten shrill-tongued demons, +burst on the gallop away from the others, and spurring his horse +cruelly, forced the animal to race, bucking and plunging, half way +around the arena and back to the group. This, then, was a type of the +dare-devil horse breaker of the Wild West? The cheers travelled in waves +around and around the house and rocked back and forth like water pitched +from side to side in a monstrous bowl. + +When the noise abated somewhat, "And this, la-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun, is +the peerless, cowpuncher, 'Bud Reeves.'" + +Bud at once imitated the example of Happy Morgan, and one after another +the five remaining riders followed suit. In the meantime a number of +prancing, kicking, savage-eyed horses were brought into the arena and to +these the master of ceremonies now turned his attention. + +"From the wildest regions of the range we have brought mustangs that +never have borne the weight of man. They fight for pleasure; they buck +by instinct. If you doubt it, step down and try 'em. One hundred dollars +to the man who sticks on the back of one of 'em--but we won't pay the +hospital bill!" + +He lowered his megaphone to enjoy the laughter, and the small man took +this opportunity to say: "Never borne the weight of a man! That chap in +the dress-suit, he tells one lie for pleasure and ten more from +instinct. Yep, he has his hosses beat. Never borne the weight of man! +Why, Drew, I can see the saddle-marks clear from here; I got a mind to +slip down there and pick up the easiest hundred bones that ever rolled +my way." + +He rose to make good his threat, but Drew cut in with: "Don't be a damn +fool, Werther. You aren't part of this show." + +"Well, I will be soon. Watch me! There goes Ananias on his second wind." + +The announcer was bellowing: "These man-killing mustangs will be ridden, +broken, beaten into submission in fair fight by the greatest set of +horse-breakers that ever wore spurs. They can ride anything that walks +on four feet and wears a skin; they can--" + +Werther sprang to his feet, made a funnel of his hand, and shouted: +"Yi-i-i-ip!" + +If he had set off a great quantity of red fire he could not more +effectively have drawn all eyes upon him. The weird, shrill yell cut the +ringmaster short, and a pleased murmur ran through the crowd. Of course, +this must be part of the show, but it was a pleasing variation. + +"Partner," continued Werther, brushing away the big hand of Drew which +would have pulled him down into his seat; "I've seen you bluff for two +nights hand running. There ain't no man can bluff all the world three +times straight." + +The ringmaster retorted in his great voice: "That sounds like good +poker. What's your game?" + +"Five hundred dollars on one card!" cried Werther, and he waved a +fluttering handful of greenbacks. "Five hundred dollars to any man of +your lot--or to any man in this house that can ride a real wild horse." + +"Where's your horse?" + +"Around the corner in a Twenty-sixth Street stable. I'll have him here +in five minutes." + +"Lead him on," cried the ringmaster, but his voice was not quite so +loud. + +Werther muttered to Drew: + +"Here's where I hand him the lemon that'll curdle his cream," and ran +out of the box and straight around the edge of the arena. New York, +murmuring and chuckling through the vast galleries of the Garden, +applauded the little man's flying coat-tails. + +He had not underestimated the time; in a little less than his five +minutes the doors at the end of the arena were thrown wide and Werther +reappeared. Behind him came two stalwarts leading between them a rangy +monster. Before the blast of lights and the murmurs of the throng the +big stallion reared and flung himself back, and the two who lead him +bore down with all their weight on the halter ropes. He literally walked +down the planks into the arena, a strange, half-comical, half-terrible +spectacle. New York burst into applause. It was a trained horse, of +course, but a horse capable of such training was worth applause. + +At that roar of sound, vague as the beat of waves along the shore, the +stallion lurched down on all fours and leaped ahead, but the two on the +halter ropes drove all their weight backward and checked the first +plunge. A bright-coloured scarf waved from a nearby box, and the +monster swerved away. So, twisting, plunging, rearing, he was worked +down the arena. As he came opposite a box in which sat a tall young man +in evening clothes the latter rose and shouted: "Bravo!" + +The fury of the stallion, searching on all sides for a vent but +distracted from one torment to another, centred suddenly on this slender +figure. He swerved and rushed for the barrier with ears flat back and +bloodshot eyes. There he reared and struck at the wood with his great +front hoofs; the boards splintered and shivered under the blows. + +As for the youth in the box, he remained quietly erect before this brute +rage. A fleck of red foam fell on the white front of his shirt. He drew +his handkerchief and wiped it calmly away, but a red stain remained. At +the same time the two who led the stallion pulled him back from the +barrier and he stood with head high, searching for a more convenient +victim. + +Deep silence spread over the arena; more hushed and more hushed it grew, +as if invisible blankets of soundlessness were dropping down over the +stirring masses; men glanced at each other with a vague surmise, knowing +that this was no part of the performance. The whole audience drew +forward to the edge of the seats and stared, first at the monstrous +horse, and next at the group of men who could "ride anything that walks +on four feet and wears a skin." + +Some of the women were already turning away their heads, for this was to +be a battle, not a game; but the vast majority of New York merely +watched and waited and smiled a slow, stiff-lipped smile. All the +surroundings were changed, the flaring electric lights, the vast roof, +the clothes of the multitude, but the throng of white faces was the same +as that pale host which looked down from the sides of the Coliseum when +the lions were loosed upon their victims. + +As for the wild riders from the cattle ranges, they drew into a close +group with the ringmaster between them and the gaunt stallion, almost as +if the fearless ones were seeking for protection. But the announcer +himself lost his almost invincible _sang-froid_; in all his matchless +vocabulary there were no sounding phrases ready for this occasion, and +little Werther strutted in the centre of the great arena, rising to his +opportunity. + +He imitated the ringmaster's phraseology. "La-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun, +the price has gone up. The 'death-defyin', dare-devils that laugh at +danger' ain't none too ready to ride my hoss. Maybe the price is too low +for 'em. It's raised. One thousand dollars--cash--for any man in +hearin' of me that'll ride my pet." + +There was a stir among the cattlemen, but still none of them moved +forward toward the great horse; and as if he sensed his victory he +raised and shook his ugly head and neighed. A mighty laugh answered that +challenge; this was a sort of "horse-humour" that great New York could +not overlook, and in that mirth even the big grey man, Drew, joined. The +laughter stopped with an amazing suddenness making the following silence +impressive as when a storm that has roared and howled about a house +falls mute, then all the dwellers in the house look to one another and +wait for the voice of the thunder. So all of New York that sat in the +long galleries of the Garden hushed its laughter and looked askance at +one another and waited. The big grey man rose and cursed softly. + +For the slender young fellow in evening dress at whom the stallion had +rushed a moment before was stripping off his coat, his vest, and rolling +up the stiff cuffs of his sleeves. Then he dropped a hand on the edge of +the box, vaulted lightly into the arena, and walked straight toward the +horse. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +SPORTING CHANCE + +It might easily have been made melodramatic by any hesitation as he +approached, but, with a businesslike directness, he went right up to the +men who held the fighting horse. + +He said: "Put a saddle on him, boys, and I'll try my hand." + +They could not answer at once, for Werther's "pet," as if he recognized +the newcomer, made a sudden lunge and was brought to a stop only after +he had dragged his sweating handlers around and around in a small +circle. Here Werther himself came running up, puffing with surprise. + +"Son," he said eagerly, "I'm not aiming to do you no harm. I was only +calling the bluff of those four-flushers." + +The slender youth finished rolling up his left sleeve and smiled down at +the other. + +"Put on the saddle," he said. + +Werther looked at him anxiously; then his eyes brightened with a +solution. He stepped closer and laid a hand on the other's arm. + +"Son, if you're broke and want to get the price of a few squares just +say the word and I'll fix you. I been busted myself in my own day, but +don't try your hand with my hoss. He ain't just a buckin' hoss; he's a +man-killer, lad. I'm tellin' you straight. And this floor ain't so soft +as the sawdust makes it look," he ended with a grin. + +The younger man considered the animal seriously. + +"I'm not broke; I've simply taken a fancy to your horse. If you don't +mind, I'd like to try him out. Seems too bad, in a way, for a brute like +that to put it over on ten thousand people without getting a run for his +money--a sporting chance, eh?" + +And he laughed with great good nature. + +"What's your name?" asked Werther, his small eyes growing round and +wide. + +"Anthony Woodbury." + +"Mine's Werther." + +They shook hands. + +"City raised?" + +"Yes." + +"Didn't know they came in this style east of the Rockies, Woodbury. I +hope I lose my thousand, but if there was any betting I'd stake ten to +one against you." + +In the meantime, some of the range-riders had thrown a coat over the +head of the stallion, and while he stood quivering with helpless rage +they flung a saddle on and drew the cinches taut. + +Anthony Woodbury was saying with a smile: "Just for the sake of the +game, I'll take you on for a few hundred, Mr. Werther, if you wish, but +I can't accept odds." + +Werther ran a finger under his collar apparently to facilitate +breathing. His eyes, roving wildly, wandered over the white, silent mass +of faces, and his glance picked out and lingered for a moment on the +big-shouldered figure of Drew, erect in his box. At last his glance came +back with an intent frown to Woodbury. Something in the keen eyes of the +lad raised a responsive flicker in his own. + +"Well, I'll be damned! Just a game, eh? Lad, no matter on what side of +the Rockies you were born, I know your breed and I won't lay a penny +against your money. There's the hoss saddled and there's the floor +you'll land on. Go to it--and God help you!" + +The other shook his shoulders back and stepped toward the horse with a +peculiarly unpleasant smile, like a pugilist coming out of his corner +toward an opponent of unknown prowess. + +He said: "Take off the halter." + +One of the men snapped viciously over his shoulder: "Climb on while the +climbing's good. Cut out the bluff, partner." + +The smile went out on the lips of Woodbury. He repeated: "Take off the +halter." + +They stared at him, but quickly began to fumble under the coat, +unfastening the buckle. It required a moment to work off the heavy +halter without giving the blinded animal a glimpse of the light; then +Woodbury caught the bridle reins firmly just beneath the chin of the +horse. With the other hand he took the stirrup strap and raised his +foot, but he seemed to change his mind about this matter. + +"Take off the blinder," he ordered. + +It was Werther who interposed this time with: "Look here, lad, I know +this hoss. The minute the blinder's off he'll up on his hind legs and +bash you into the floor with his forefeet." + +"Let him go," growled one of the cowboys. "He's goin' to hell making a +gallery play." + +But taking the matter into his own hands Woodbury snatched the coat from +the head of the stallion, which snorted and reared up, mouth agape ears +flattened back. There was a shout from the man, not a cry of dismay, but +a ringing battle yell like some ancient berserker seeing the first flash +of swords in the mêlée. He leaped forward, jerking down on the bridle +reins with all the force of his weight and his spring. The horse, caught +in mid-air, as it were, came floundering down on all fours again. Before +he could make another move, Woodbury caught the high horn of the saddle +and vaulted up to his seat. It was gallantly done and in response came a +great rustling from the multitude; there was not a spoken word, but +every man was on his feet. + +Perhaps what followed took their breaths and kept them speechless. The +first touch of his rider's weight sent the stallion mad, not blind with +fear as most horses go, but raging with a devilish cunning like that of +an insane man, a thing that made the blood run cold to watch. He stood a +moment shuddering, as if the strange truth were slowly dawning on his +brute mind; then he bolted straight for the barriers. Woodbury braced +himself and lunged back on the reins, but he might as well have tugged +at the mooring cable of a great ship; the bit was in the monster's +teeth. + +Then a whisper reached the rider, a universal hushing of drawn breath, +for the thousands were tasting the first thrill and terror of the +combat. They saw a picture of horse and man crushed against the barrier. +But there was no such stupid rage in the mind of the stallion. + +At the last moment he swerved and raced close beside the fence; some +projecting edge caught the trousers of Woodbury and ripped away the +stout cloth from hip to heel. He swung far to the other side and +wrenched back the reins. With stiff-braced legs the stallion slid to a +halt that flung his unbalanced rider forward along his neck. Before he +could straighten himself in the saddle, the horse roared and came down +on rigid forelegs, yet by a miracle Woodbury clung, sprawled down the +side of the monster, to be sure, but was not quite dismounted. + +Another pitch of the same nature would have freed the stallion from his +rider beyond doubt, but he elected to gallop full speed ahead the length +of the arena, and during that time, Woodbury, stunned though he was, +managed to drag himself back into the saddle. The end of the race was a +leap into the air that would have cleared a five-bar fence, and down +pitched the fighting horse on braced legs again. Woodbury's chin snapped +down against his breast as though he had been struck behind the head +with a heavy bar, but though his brain was stunned, the fighting +instinct remained strong in him and when the stallion reared and toppled +back the rider slipped from the saddle in the nick of time. + +Fourteen hundred pounds of raging horseflesh crashed into the sawdust; +he rolled like a cat to his feet, but at the same instant a flying +weight leaped through the air and landed in the saddle. The audience +awoke to sound--to a dull roar of noise; a thin trickle of blood ran +from Woodbury's mouth and it seemed that the mob knew it and was yelling +for a death. + +There followed a bewildering exhibition of such bucking that the +disgruntled cowboys forgot their shame and shouted with joy. Upon his +hind legs and then down on his forefeet with a sickening heartbreaking +jar the stallion rocked; now he bucked from side to side; now rose and +whirled about like a dancer; now toppled to the ground and twisted again +to his feet. + +Still the rider clung. His head rocked with the ceaseless jars; the +red-stained lips writhed back and showed the locked teeth. Yet, as if he +scorned the struggles of the stallion, he brought into play the heavy +quirt which had been handed him as he mounted. Over neck and shoulders +and tender flanks he whirled the lash; it was not intelligence fighting +brute strength, but one animal conquering another and rejoicing in the +battle. + +The horse responded, furiously he responded, but still the lash fell, +and the bucking grew more cunning, perhaps, but less violent. Yet to the +wildly cheering audience the fight seemed more dubious than ever. Then, +in the very centre of the arena, the stallion stopped in the midst of a +twisting course of bucking and stood with widely braced legs and fallen +head. Strength was left in him, but the cunning, savage mind knew +defeat. + +Once more the quirt whirled in the air and fell with a resounding crack, +but the stallion merely switched his tail and started forward at a +clumsy stumbling trot. The thunder of the host was too hoarse for +applause; they saw a victory and a defeat but what they had wanted was +blood, and a death. They had had a promise and a taste; now they +hungered for the reality. + +Woodbury slipped from the saddle and gave the reins to Werther. Already +a crowd was growing about them of the curious who had sprung over the +barriers and swarmed across the arena to see the conqueror, for had he +not vindicated unanswerably the strength of the East as compared with +that of the West? Boys shouted shrilly; men shouldered each other to +slap him on the back; but Werther merely held forth the handful of +greenbacks. The conqueror braced himself against the saddle with a +trembling hand and shook his head. + +"Not for me," he said, "I ought to pay you--ten times that much for the +sport--compared to this polo is nothing." + +"Ah," muttered those who overheard, "polo! That explains it!" + +"Then take the horse," said Werther, "because no one else could ride +him." + +"And now any one can ride him, so I don't want him," answered Woodbury. + +And Werther grinned. "You're right, boy. I'll give him to the iceman." + +The big grey man, William Drew, loomed over the heads of the little +crowd, and they gave way before him as water divides under the prow of a +ship; it was as if he cast a shadow which they feared before him. + +"Help me through this mob," said Woodbury to Werther, "and back to my +box. Devil take it, my overcoat won't cover that leg." + +Then on him also fell, as it seemed, the approaching shadow of the grey +man and he looked up with something of a start into the keen eyes of +Drew. + +"Son," said the big man, "you look sort of familiar to me. I'm asking +your pardon, but who was your mother?" + +The eyes of young Woodbury narrowed and the two stood considering each +other gravely for a long moment. + +"I never saw her," he said at last, and then turned with a frown to work +his way through the crowd and back to his box. + +The tall man hesitated a moment and then started in pursuit, but the mob +intervened. He turned back to Werther. + +"Did you get his name?" he asked. + +"Fine bit of riding he showed, eh?" cried the little man, "and turned +down my thousand as cool as you please. I tell you, Drew, there's some +flint in the Easterners after all!" + +"Damn the Easterners. What's his name?" + +"Woodbury. Anthony Woodbury." + +"Woodbury?" + +"What's wrong with that name?" + +"Nothing. Only I'm a bit surprised." + +And he frowned with a puzzled, wistful expression, staring straight +ahead like a man striving to solve a great riddle. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +SOCIAL SUICIDE + +At his box, Woodbury stopped only to huddle into his coat and overcoat +and pull his hat down over his eyes. Then he hurried on toward an exit, +but even this slight delay brought the reporters up with him. They had +scented news as the eagle sights prey far below, and then swooped down +on him. He continued his flight shaking off their harrying questions, +but they kept up the running fight and at the door one of them reached +his side with: "It's Mr. Woodbury of the Westfall Polo Club, son of Mr. +John Woodbury of Anson Place?" + +Anthony Woodbury groaned with dismay and clutched the grinning reporter +by the arm. + +"Come with me!" + +Prospects of a scoop of a sizable nature brightened the eyes of the +reporter. He followed in all haste, and the other news-gatherers, in +obedience to the exacting, unspoken laws of their craft, stood back and +followed the flight with grumbling envy. + +On Twenty-Sixth Street, a little from the corner of Madison Avenue, +stood a big touring car with the chauffeur waiting in the front seat. +There were still some followers from the Garden. + +Woodbury jumped into the back seat, drew the reporter after him, and +called: "Start ahead, Maclaren--drive anywhere, but get moving." + +"Now, sir," turning to the reporter as the engine commenced to hum, +"what's your name?" + +"Bantry." + +"Bantry? Glad to know you." + +He shook hands. + +"You know me?" + +"Certainly. I cover sports all the way from polo to golf. Anthony +Woodbury--Westfall Polo Club--then golf, tennis, trap shooting--" + +"Enough!" groaned the victim. "Now look here, Bantry, you have me dead +to rights--got me with the goods, so to speak, haven't you?" + +"It was a great bit of work; ought to make a first-page story." + +And the other groaned again. "I know--son of millionaire rides unbroken +horse in Wild West show--and all that sort of thing. But, good Lord, +man, think what it will mean to me?" + +"Nothing to be ashamed of, is it? Your father'll be proud of you." + +Woodbury looked at him sharply. + +"How do you know that?" + +"Any man would be." + +"But the notoriety, man! It would kill me with a lot of people as +thoroughly as if I'd put the muzzle of a gun in my mouth and pulled the +trigger." + +"H-m!" muttered the reporter, "sort of social suicide, all right. But +it's news, Mr. Woodbury, and the editor--" + +"Expects you to write as much as the rest of the papers print--and none +of the other reporters know me." + +"One or two of them might have." + +"But my dear fellow--won't you take a chance?" + +Bantry made a wry face. + +"Madison Square Garden," went on Woodbury bitterly. "Ten thousand people +looking on--gad, man, it's awful." + +"Why'd you do it, then?" + +"Couldn't help it, Bantry. By Jove, when that wicked devil of a horse +came at my box and I caught a glimpse of the red demon in his eyes--why, +man, I simply had to get down and try my luck. Ever play football?" + +"Yes, quite a while ago." + +"Then you know how it is when you're in the bleachers and the whistle +blows for the game to begin. That's the way it was with me. I wanted to +climb down into the field--and I did. Once started, I couldn't stop +until I'd made a complete ass of myself in the most spectacular style. +Now, Bantry, I appeal to you for the sake of your old football days, +don't show me up--keep my name quiet." + +"I'd like to--damned if I wouldn't--but--a scoop--" + +Anthony Woodbury considered his companion with a strange yearning. It +might have been to take him by the throat; it might have been some +gentler motive, but his hand stole at last toward an inner coat pocket. + +He said: "I know times are a bit lean now and then in your game, Bantry. +I wonder if you could use a bit of the long green? Just now I'm very +flush, and--" + +He produced a thickly stuffed bill-fold, but Bantry smiled and touched +Woodbury's arm. + +"Couldn't possibly, you know." + +He considered a moment and then, with a smile: "It's a bit awkward for +both of us, isn't it? Suppose I keep your name under my hat and you give +me a few little inside tips now and then on polo news, and that sort of +thing?" + +"Here's my hand on it. You've no idea what a load you take off my mind." + +"We've circled about and are pretty close to the Garden again. Could you +let me out here?" + +The car rolled to an easy stop and the reporter stepped out. + +"I'll forget everything you wish, Mr. Woodbury." + +"It's an honour to have met you, sir. Use me whenever you can. +Goodnight." + +To the chauffeur he said: "Home, and make it fast." + +They passed up Lexington with Maclaren "making it fast," so that the big +car was continually nosing its way around the machines in front with +much honking of the horn. At Fifty-Ninth Street they turned across to +the bridge and hummed softly across the black, shimmering waters of the +East River; by the time they reached Brooklyn a fine mist was beginning +to fall, blurring the wind-shield, and Maclaren slowed up perceptibly, +so that before they passed the heart of the city, Woodbury leaned +forward and said: "What's the matter, Maclaren?" + +"Wet streets--no chains--this wind-shield is pretty hard to see +through." + +"Stop her, then. I'll take the wheel the rest of the way. Want to travel +a bit to-night." + +The chauffeur, as if this exchange were something he had been expecting, +made no demur, and a moment later, with Woodbury at the wheel, the motor +began to hum again in a gradually increasing crescendo. Two or three +motor-police glanced after the car as it snapped about corners with an +ominous skid and straightened out, whining, on the new street; but in +each case, having made a comfortable number of arrests that day, they +had little heart for the pursuit of the grey monster through that chill +mist. + +Past Brooklyn, with a country road before them, Woodbury cut out the +muffler and the car sprang forward with a roar. A gust of increasing +wind whipped back to Maclaren, for the wind-shield had been opened so +that the driver need not look through the dripping glass and mingling +with the wet gale were snatches of singing. + +The chauffeur, partly in understanding and partly from anxiety, +apparently, caught the side of the seat in a firm grip and leaned +forward to break the jar when they struck rough places. Around an elbow +turn they went with one warning scream of the Klaxon, skidded horribly +at the sharp angle of the curve, and missed by inches a car from the +opposite direction. + +They swept on with the startled yell of the other party ringing after +them, drowned at once by the crackling of the exhaust. Maclaren raised a +furtive hand to wipe from his forehead a moisture which was not +altogether rain, but immediately grasped the side of the seat again. +Straight ahead the road swung up to meet a bridge and dropped sharply +away from it on the further side. Maclaren groaned but the sound was +lost in the increasing roar of the exhaust. + +They barely touched that bridge and shot off into space on the other +side like a hurdler clearing an obstacle. With a creak and a thud the +big car landed, reeled drunkenly, and straightened out in earnest, +Maclaren craned his head to see the speedometer, but had not the heart +to look; he began to curse softly, steadily. + +When the muffler went on again and the motor was reduced to a loud, +angry humming, Woodbury caught a few phrases of those solemn +imprecations. He grinned into the black heart of the night, streaked +with lines of grey where therein entered the halo of the headlights, and +then swung the car through an open, iron gate. The motor fell to a +drowsily contented murmur that blended with the cool swishing of the +tires on wet gravel. + +"Maclaren," said the other, as he stopped in front of the garage, "if +everyone was as good a passenger as you I'd enjoy motoring; but after +all, a car can't act up like a horse." He concluded gloomily: "There's +no fight in it." + +And he started toward the house, but Maclaren, staring after the +departing figure, muttered: "There's only one sort that's worse than a +damn fool, and that's a young one." + +It was through a door opening off the veranda that Anthony entered the +house, stealthily as a burglar, and with the same nervous apprehension. +Before him stretched a wide hall, dimly illumined by a single light +which splashed on the Italian table and went glimmering across the +floor. Across the hall was his destination--the broad balustraded +staircase, which swept grandly up to the second floor. Toward this he +tiptoed steadying himself with one hand against the wall. Almost to his +goal, he heard a muffled footfall and shrank against the wall with a +catlike agility, but, though the shadow fell steep and gloomy there, +luck was against him. + +A middle-aged servant of solemn port, serene with the twofold dignity of +double chin and bald head, paused at the table in his progress across +the room, and swept the apartment with the judicial eye of one who knows +that everything is as it should be but will not trust even the silence +of night. So that bland blue eye struck first on the faintly shining +top hat of Anthony, ran down his overcoat, and lingered in gloomy dismay +on the telltale streak of white where the trouser leg should have been. + +What he thought not even another Oedipus could have conjectured. The +young master very obviously did not wish to be observed, and in such +times Peters at could be blinder than the bat noon-day and more secret +than the River Styx. He turned away, unhurried, the fold of that double +chin a little more pronounced over the severe correctness of his collar. + +A very sibilant whisper pursued him. He stopped again, still without +haste, and turned not directly toward Anthony, but at a discreet angle, +with his eyes fixed firmly upon the ceiling. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +A SESSION OF CHAT + +The whisper grew distinct in words. + +"Peters, you old numskull, come here!" + +The approach of Peters was something like the sidewise waddle of a very +aged crab. He looked to the north, but his feet carried him to the east. +That he was much moved was attested by the colour which had mounted even +to the gleaming expanse of that nobly bald head. + +"Yes, Master Anthony--I mean Mr. Anthony?" + +He set his teeth at the _faux pas_. + +"Peters, look at me. Confound it, I haven't murdered any one. Are you +busy?" + +It required whole seconds for the eyes to wheel round upon Anthony, and +they were immediately debased from the telltale white of that leg to the +floor. + +"No, sir." + +"Then come up with me and help me change. Quick!" + +He turned and fled noiselessly up the great stairs, with Peters panting +behind. Anthony's overcoat was off before he had fairly entered his room +and his coat and vest flopped through the air as Peters shut the door. +Whatever the old servant lacked in agility he made up in certain +knowledge; as he laid out a fresh tuxedo, Anthony changed with the speed +of one pursued. The conversation was spasmodic to a degree. + +"Where's father? Waiting in the library?" + +"Yes. Reading, sir." + +"Had a mix-up--bully time, though--damn this collar! Peters, I wish +you'd been there--where's those trousers? Rub some of the crease out of +'em--they must look a _little_ worn." + +He stood at last completely dressed while Peters looked on with a +shining eye and a smile which in a younger man would have suggested many +things. + +"How is it? Will I pass father this way?" + +"I hope so, sir." + +"But you don't think so?" + +"It's hard to deceive him." + +"Confound it! Don't I know? Well, here's for a try. Soft-foot it down +stairs. I'll go after you and bang the door. Then you say good-evening +in a loud voice and I'll go into the library. How's that?" + +"Very good--your coat over your arm--so! Just ruffle your hair a bit, +sir--now you should do very nicely." + +At the door: "Go first, Peters--first, man, and hurry, but watch those +big feet of yours. If you make a noise on the stairs I'm done with you." + +The noiselessness of the descending feet was safe enough, but not so +safe was the chuckling of Peters for, though he fought against the +threatening explosion, it rumbled like the roll of approaching thunder. +In the hall below, Anthony opened and slammed the door. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Anthony," said Peters loudly, too loudly. + +"Evening, Peters. Where's father?" + +"In the library, sir. Shall I take your coat?" + +"I'll carry it up to my room when I go. That's all." + +He opened the door to the library and entered with a hope that his +father would not be facing him, but he found that John Woodbury was not +even reading. He sat by the big fire-place smoking a pipe which he now +removed slowly from his teeth. + +"Hello, Anthony." + +"Good-evening, sir." + +He rose to shake hands with his son: they might have been friends +meeting after a separation so long that they were compelled to be +formal, and as Anthony turned to lay down his hat and coat he knew that +the keen grey eyes studied him carefully from head to foot. + +"Take this chair." + +"Why, sir, wouldn't dream of disturbing you." + +"Not a bit. I want you to try it; just a trifle too narrow for me." + +John Woodbury rose and gestured his son to the chair he had been +occupying. Anthony hesitated, but then, like one who obeys first and +thinks afterward, seated himself as directed. + +"Mighty comfortable, sir." + +The big man stood with his hands clasped behind him, peering down under +shaggy, iron-grey brows. + +"I thought it would be. I designed it myself for you and I had a pretty +bad time getting it made." + +He stepped to one side. + +"Hits you pretty well under the knees, doesn't it? Yes, it's deeper than +most." + +"A perfect fit, father, and mighty thoughtful of you." + +"H-m," rumbled John Woodbury, and looked about like one who has +forgotten something. "What about a glass of Scotch?" + +"Nothing, thank you--I--in fact I'm not very strong for the stuff." + +The rough brows rose a trifle and fell. + +"No? But isn't it usual? Better have a go." + +Once more there was that slight touch of hesitancy, as if the son were +not quite sure of the father and wished to make every concession. + +"Certainly, if it'll make you easier." + +There was an instant softening of the hard lines of the elder Woodbury's +face, as though some favour of import had been done him. He touched a +bell-cord and lowered himself with a little grunt of relaxation into a +chair. The chair was stoutly built, but it groaned a little under the +weight of the mighty frame it received. He leaned back and in his face +was a light which came not altogether from the comfortable glow of the +fire. + +And when the servant appeared the big man ordered: "Scotch and seltzer +and one glass with a pitcher of ice." + +"Aren't you taking anything, sir?" asked Anthony. + +"Who, me? Yes, yes, of course. Why, let me see--bring me a pitcher of +beer." He added as the servant disappeared: "Never could get a taste for +Scotch, and rye doesn't seem to be--er--good form. Eh, Anthony?" + +"Nonsense," frowned the son, "haven't you a right to be comfortable in +your own house?" + +"Come, come!" rumbled John Woodbury. "A young fellow in your position +can't have a boor for a father, eh?" + +It was apparently an old argument between them, for Anthony stared +gloomily at the fire, making no attempt to reply; and he glanced up in +relief when the servant entered with the liquor. John Woodbury, however, +returned to the charge as soon as they were left alone again, saying: +"As a matter of fact, I'm about to set you up in an establishment of +your own in New York." He made a vastly inclusive gesture. "Everything +done up brown--old house--high-class interior decorator, to get you +started with a splash." + +"Are you tired of Long Island?" + +"_I'm_ not going to the city, but you will." + +"And my work?" + +"A gentleman of the class you'll be in can't callous his hands with +work. I spent my life making money; you can use your life throwing it +away--like a gentleman. But"--he reached out at this point and smashed a +burly fist into a palm hardly less hard--"but I'll be damned, Anthony, +if I'll let you stay here in Long Island wasting your time riding the +wildest horses you can get and practising with an infernal revolver. +What the devil do you mean by it?" + +"I don't know," said the other, musing. "Of course the days of revolvers +are past, but I love the feel of the butt against my palm--I love the +kick of the barrel tossing up--I love the balance; and when I have a +six-shooter in my hand, sir, I feel as if I had six lives. Odd, isn't +it?" He grew excited as he talked, his eyes gleaming with dancing points +of fire. "And I'll tell you this, sir: I'd rather be out in the country +where men still wear guns, where the sky isn't stained with filthy coal +smoke, where there's an horizon wide enough to breathe in, where there's +man-talk instead of this damned chatter over tea-cups--" + +"Stop!" cried John Woodbury, and leaned forward, "no matter what fool +ideas you get into your head--you're going to be a _gentleman_!" + +The swaying forward of that mighty body, the outward thrust of the jaws, +the ring of the voice, was like the crashing of an ax when armoured men +meet in battle. The flicker in the eyes of Anthony was the rapier which +swerves from the ax and then leaps at the heart. For a critical second +their glances crossed and then the habit of obedience conquered. + +"I suppose you know, sir." + +The father stared gloomily at the floor. + +"You're sort of mad, Anthony?" + +Perhaps there was nothing more typical of Anthony than that he never +frowned, no matter how angered he might be. Now the cold light passed +from his eyes. He rose and passed behind the chair of the elder man, +dropping a hand upon those massive shoulders. + +"Angry with myself, sir, that I should so nearly fall out with the +finest father that walks the earth." + +The eyes of the grey man half closed and a semblance of a smile touched +those stiff, stern lips; one of the great work-broken hands went up and +rested on the fingers of his son. + +"And there'll be no more of this infernal Western nonsense that you're +always reverting to? No more of this horse-and-gun-and-hell-bent-away +stuff?" + +"I suppose not," said Anthony heavily. + +"Well, Anthony, sit down and tell me about tonight." + +The son obeyed, and finally said, with difficulty: "I didn't go to the +Morrison supper." + +A sudden cloud of white rose from the bowl of Woodbury's pipe. + +"But I thought--" + +"That it was a big event? It was--a fine thing for me to get a bid to; +but I went to the Wild West show instead. Sir, I know it was childish, +but--I couldn't help it! I saw the posters; I thought of the +horse-breaking, the guns, the swing and snap and dash of galloping men, +the taint of sweating horses--and by God, sir, I _couldn't_ stay away! +Are you angry?" + +It was more than anger; it was almost fear that widened the eye of +Woodbury as he stared at his son. He said at last, controlling himself: +"But I have your word; you've given up the thought of this Western +life?" + +"Yes," answered Anthony, with a touch of despair, "I have given it up, I +suppose. But, oh, sir--" He stopped, hopeless. + +"And what else happened?" + +"Nothing to speak of." + +"After you come home you don't usually change your clothes merely for +the pleasure of sitting with me here." + +"Nothing escapes you, does it?" muttered Anthony. + +"In your set, Anthony, that's what they'd call an improper question." + +"I could ask you any number of questions, sir, for that matter." + +"Well?" + +"That room over there, for instance, which you always keep locked. Am I +never to have a look at it?" + +He indicated a door which opened from the library. + +"I hope not." + +"You say that with a good deal of feeling. But there's one thing more +that I have a right to hear about. My mother! Why do you never tell me +of her?" + +The big man stirred and the chair groaned beneath him. + +"Because it tortures me to speak of her, Anthony," said the husky voice. +"Tortures me, lad!" + +"I let the locked room go," said Anthony firmly, "but my mother--she is +different. Why, sir, I don't even know how she looked! Dad, it's my +right!" + +"Is it? By God, you have a right to know exactly what I choose to tell +you--no more!" + +He rose, strode across the room with ponderous steps, drew aside the +curtains which covered the view of the garden below, and stared for a +time into the night. When he turned he found that Anthony had risen--a +slender, erect figure. His voice was as quiet as his anger, but an +inward quality made it as thrilling as the hoarse boom of his father. + +"On that point I stick. I must know something about her." + +"Must?" + +"In spite of your anger. That locked room is yours; this house and +everything in it is yours; but my mother--she was as much mine as yours, +and I'll hear more about her--who she was, what she looked like, where +she lived--" + +The sharply indrawn breath of John Woodbury cut him short. + +"She died in giving birth to you, Anthony." + +"Dear God! She died for me?" + +And in the silence which came over the two men it seemed as if another +presence were in the room. John Woodbury stood at the fire-place with +bowed head, and Anthony shaded his eyes and stared at the floor until he +caught a glimpse of the other and went gently to him. + +He said: "I'm sorrier than a lot of words could tell you. Will you sit +down, sir, and let me tell you how I came to press home the question?" + +"If you want to have it that way." + +They resumed their chairs. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +ANTHONY IS LEFT IN THE DARK + +"It will explain why I changed my clothes after I came home. You see, +toward the end of the show a lot of the cowboys rode in. The ringmaster +was announcing that they could ride anything that walked on four feet +and wore a skin, when up jumped an oldish fellow in a box opposite mine +and shouted that he had a horse which none of them could mount. He +offered five hundred dollars to the man who could back him; and made it +good by going out of the building and coming back inside of five minutes +with two men leading a great stallion, the ugliest piece of horseflesh +I've ever seen. + +"As they worked the brute down the arena, it caught sight of my white +shirt, I suppose, for it made a dive at me, reared up, and smashed its +forehoofs against the barrier. By Jove, a regular maneater! Brought my +heart into my mouth to see the big devil raging, and I began to yearn to +get astride him and to--well, just fight to see which of us would come +out on top. You know?" + +The big man moistened his lips; he was strangely excited. + +"So you climbed into the arena and rode the horse?" + +"Exactly! I knew you'd understand! After I'd ridden the horse to a +standstill and climbed off, a good many people gathered around me. One +of them was a big man, about your size. In fact, now that I look back at +it, he was a good deal like you in more ways than one; looked as if time +had hardened him without making him brittle. He came to me and said: +'Excuse me, son, but you look sort of familiar to me. Mind telling me +who your mother was?' What could I answer to a--" + +A shadow fell across Anthony from the rising height of his father. As he +looked up he saw John Woodbury glance sharply, first toward the French +windows and then at the door of the secret room. + +"Was that all, Anthony?" + +"Yes, about all." + +"I want to be alone." + +The habit of automatic obedience made Anthony rise in spite of the +questions which were storming at his lips. + +"Good-night, sir." + +"Good-night, my boy." + +At the door the harsh voice of his father overtook him. + +"Before you leave the house again, see me, Anthony." + +"Yes, sir." + +He closed the door softly, as one deep in thought, and stood for a time +without moving. Because a man had asked him who his mother was, he was +under orders not to leave the house. While he stood, he heard a faint +click of a snapping lock within the library and knew that John Woodbury +had entered the secret room. + +In his own bedroom he undressed slowly and afterward stood for a long +time under the shower, rubbing himself down with the care of an athlete, +thumbing the soreness of the wild ride out of the lean, sinewy muscles, +for his was a made strength built up in the gymnasium and used on the +wrestling mat, the cinder path, and the football field. Drying himself +with a rough towel that whipped the pink into his skin, he looked down +over his corded, slender limbs, remembered the thick arms and Herculean +torso of John Woodbury, and wondered. + +He sat on the edge of his bed, wrapped in a bathrobe, and pondered. +Stroke by stroke he built the picture of that dead mother, like a +painter who jots down the first sketch of a large composition. John +Woodbury, vast, blond, grey-eyed, had given him few of his physical +traits. But then he had often heard that the son usually resembled the +mother. She must have been dark, slender, a frail wife for such a giant; +but perhaps she had a strength of spirit which made her his mate. + +As the picture drew out more clearly in the mind of Anthony, he turned +from the lighted room, threw open a window, and leaned out to breathe +the calm, damp air of night. + +It was infinitely cool, infinitely fresh. To his left a row of young +trees darted their slender tops at the sky like shadowy spearheads. The +smell of wet leaves and the wet grass beneath rose up to him. To the +right, for his own room stood in a wing of the mansion, the house +shouldered its way into the gloom, a solemn, grey shadow, netted in a +black tracery of climbing vine. In all the stretch of wall only two +windows were lighted, and those yellow squares, he knew, belonged to his +father. He had left the secret room, therefore. + +As he watched, a shadow brushed slowly across one of the drawn shades, +swept the second, and returned at once in the opposite direction. Back +and forth, back and forth, that shadow moved, and as his eye grew +accustomed to watching, he caught quite clearly the curve of the +shoulders and the forward droop of the head. + +It was not until then that the first alarm came to Anthony, for he knew +that the footsteps of the big grey man were dogged by fear. He could no +more conceive it than he could imagine noon and midnight in conjunction, +and feeling as guilty as if he had played the part of an eavesdropper he +turned away, snapped off the lights, and slipped into bed. + +The pleasant warmth of sleep would not come. In its place the images of +the day filed past him like the dance of figures on a motion picture +screen, and always, like the repeated entrance of the hero, the other +images grew small and dim. He saw again the burly stranger wading +through the crowd in the arena, shaking off the packed mob as the prow +of a stately ship shakes off the water, to either side. + +At length he started out of bed and glanced through the window. The +moving shadow still swept across the lighted shades of his father's +room; so he donned bathrobe and slippers and went down the long hall. At +the door he did not stop to knock, for he was too deeply concerned by +this time to pay any heed to convention. He grasped the knob and threw +the door wide open. What happened then was so sudden that he could not +be sure afterward what he had seen. He was certain that the door opened +on a lighted room, yet before he could step in the lights were snapped +out. + +He was staring into a deep void of night; and a silence came about him +like a whisper. Out of that silence he thought after a second that he +caught the sound of a hurried breathing, louder and louder, as though +someone were creeping upon him. He glanced over his shoulder in a slight +panic, but down the grey hall on either side there was nothing to be +seen. Once more he looked back into the solemn room, opened his lips to +speak, changed his mind, and closed the door again. + +Yet when he looked down again from his own room the lights shone once +more on the shades of his father's windows. Past them brushed the shadow +of the pacing man, up and down, up and down. He turned his eyes away to +the jagged tops of the young trees, to the glimpses of dark fields +beyond them, and inhaled the scent of the wet, green things. It seemed +to Anthony as if it all were hostile--as though the whole outdoors were +besieging this house. + +He caught the sway of the pacing figure whose shadow moved in regular +rhythm across the yellow shades. It entered his mind, clung there, and +finally he began to pace in the same cadence, up and down the room. With +every step he felt that he was entering deeper into the danger which +threatened John Woodbury. What danger? For answer to himself he stepped +to the windows and pulled down the shades. At least he could be alone. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +JOHN BARD + +There is no cleanser of the mind like a morning bath. The same cold, +whipping spray which calls up the pink blood, glowing through the marble +of the skin, drives the ache of sleep from the brain, and washes away at +once all the recorded thoughts of yesterday. So in place of a crowded +slate of wonders and doubts, Anthony bore down to the breakfast table a +willingness to take what the morning might bring and forget the night +before. + +John Woodbury was already there, helping himself from the covered +dishes, for the meal was served in the English style. There was the +usual "Good-morning, sir," "Good-morning, Anthony," and then they took +their places at the table. A cautious survey of the craglike face of his +father showed no traces of a sleepless night; but then, what could a +single night of unrest mean to that body of iron? + +He ventured, remembering the implied command to remain within the house +until further orders: "You asked me to speak to you, sir, before I left +the house. I'd rather like to take a ride this morning." + +And the imperturbable voice replied: "You've worn your horses out +lately. Better give them a day of rest." + +That was all, but it brought back to Anthony the thought of the shadow +which had swept ceaselessly across the yellow shades of his father's +room; and he settled down to a day of reading. The misty rain of the +night before had cleared the sky of its vapours, so he chose a nook in +the library where the bright spring sun shone full and the open fire +supplied the warmth. At lunch his father did not appear, and Peters +announced that the master was busy in his room with papers. The +afternoon repeated the morning, but with less unrest on the part of +Anthony. He was busy with _L'Assommoir_, and lost himself in the story +of downfall, surrounding himself with each unbeautiful detail. + +Lunch was repeated at dinner, for still John Woodbury seemed to be "busy +with papers in his room." A fear came to Anthony that he was to be +dodged indefinitely in this manner, deceived like a child, and kept in +the house until the silent drama was played out. But when he sat in the +library that evening his father came in and quietly drew up a chair by +the fire. The stage was ideally set for a confidence, but none was +forthcoming. The fire shook long, sleepy shadows through the room, the +glow of the two floor-lamps picked out two circles of light, and still +the elder man sat over his paper and would not speak. + +_L'Assommoir_ ended, and to rid himself of the grey tragedy, Anthony +looked up and through the windows toward the bright night which lay over +the gardens and terraces outside, for a full moon silvered all with a +flood of light. It was a waiting time, and into it the old-fashioned +Dutch clock in the corner sent its voice with a monotonous, softly +clanging toll of seconds, until Anthony forgot the moonlight over the +outside terraces to watch the gradual sway of the pendulum. A minute, +spent in this manner, was equal to an hour of ordinary time. Fascinated +by the sway of the pendulum he became conscious of the passage of +existence like a river broad and wide and shining which flowed on into +an eternity of chance and left him stationary on the banks. + +The voice which sounded at length was as dim and visionary as a part of +his waking dream. It was like one of those imagined calls from the +world of action to him who stood there, watching reality run past and +never stirring himself to take advantage of the thousand opportunities +for action. He would have discarded it for a part of his dream, had not +he seen John Woodbury raise his head sharply, heard the paper fall with +a dry crackling to the floor, and watched the square jaw of his father +jut out in that familiar way which meant danger. + +Once more, and this time it was unmistakably clear: "John Bard,--John +Bard, come out to me!" + +The big, grey man rose with widely staring eyes as if the name belonged +to him, and strode with a thumping step into the secret room. Hardly had +the clang of the closing door died out when he reappeared, fumbling at +his throat. Straight to Anthony he came and extended a key from which +dangled a piece of thin silver chain. It was the key to the secret room. + +He took it in both hands, like a young knight receiving the pommel of +his sword from him who has just given the accolade, and stared down at +it until the creaking of the opened French windows startled him to his +feet. + +"Wait!" he called, "I will go also!" + +The big man at the open window turned. + +"You will sit where you are now," said his harsh voice, "but if I don't +return you have the key to the room." + +His burly shoulders disappeared down the steps toward the garden, and +Anthony slipped back into his chair; yet for the first time in his life +he was dreaming of disobeying the command of John Woodbury. +Woodbury--yet the big man had risen automatically in answer to the name +of Bard. John Bard! It struck on his consciousness like two hammer blows +wrecking some fragile fabric; it jarred home like the timed blow of a +pugilist. Woodbury? There might be a thousand men capable of that name, +but there could only be one John Bard, and that was he who had +disappeared down the steps leading to the garden. Anthony swerved in his +chair and fastened his eyes on the Dutch clock. He gave himself five +minutes before he should move. + +The watched pot will never boil, and the minute hand of the big clock +dragged forward with deadly pauses from one black mark to the next. +Whispers rose in the room. Something fluttered the fallen newspaper as +if a ghost-hand grasped it but had not the strength to raise; and the +window rattled, with a sharp gust of wind. The last minute Anthony spent +at the open French window with a backward eye on the clock; then he +raced down the steps as though in his turn he answered a call out of the +night. + +The placid coolness of the open and the touch of moist, fresh air +against his forehead mocked him as he reached the garden, and there were +reassuring whispers from the trees he passed; yet he went on with a +long, easy stride like a runner starting a distance race. First he +skirted the row of poplars on the drive; then doubled back across the +meadow to his right and ran in a sharp-angling course across an orchard +of apple trees. Diverging from this direction, he circled at a quicker +pace toward the rear of the grounds and coursed like a wild deer over a +stretch of terraced lawns. On one of these low crests he stopped short +under the black shadow of an elm. + +In the smooth-shaven centre of the hollow before him, the same ground +over which he had run and played a thousand times in his childhood, he +saw two tall men standing back to back, like fighters come to a last +stand and facing a crowd of foes. They separated at once, striding out +with a measured step, and it was not until they moved that he caught the +glint of metal at the side of one of them and knew that one was the man +who had answered to the name of John Bard and the other was the grey +man who had spoken to him at the Garden the night before. He knew it not +so much by the testimony of his eyes at that dim distance as by a queer, +inner feeling that this must be so. There was also a sense of +familiarity about the whole thing, as if he were looking on something +which he had seen rehearsed a thousand times. + +As if they reached the end of an agreed course, the two whirled at the +same instant, the metal in their hands glinted in an upward semicircle, +and two guns barked hoarsely across the lawns. + +One of them stood with his gun still poised; the other leaned gradually +forward and toppled at full length on the grass. The victor strode out +toward the fallen, but hearing the wild yell of Anthony he stopped, +turned his head, and then fled into the grove of trees which topped the +next rise of ground. After him, running as he had never before raced, +went Anthony; his hand, as he sprinted, already tensed for the coming +battle; two hundred yards at the most and he would reach the lumbering +figure which had plunged into the night of the trees; but a call reached +him as sharp as the crack of the guns a moment before: "Anthony!" + +His head twitched to one side and he saw John Bard rising to his elbow. +His racing stride shortened choppily. + +"Anthony!" + +He could not choose but halt, groaning to give up the chase, and then +sped back to the fallen man. At his coming John Bard collapsed on the +grass, and when Anthony knelt beside him a voice in rough dialect began, +as if an enforced culture were brushed away and forgotten in the crisis: +"Anthony, there ain't no use in followin' him!" + +"Where did the bullet strike you? Quick!" + +"A place where it ain't no use to look. I know!" + +"Let me follow him; it's not too late--" + +The dying man struggled to one elbow. + +"Don't follow, lad, if you love me." + +"Who is he? Give me his name and--" + +"He's acted in the name of God. You have no right to hunt him down." + +"Then the law will do that." + +"Not the law. For God's sake swear--" + +"I'll swear anything. But now lie quiet; let me--" + +"Don't try. This couldn't end no other way for John Bard." + +"Is that your real name?" + +"Yes. Now listen, Anthony, for my time's short." + +He closed his eyes as if fighting silently for strength. + +Then: "When I was a lad like you, Anthony--" That was all. The massive +body relaxed; the head fell back into the dewy grass. Anthony pressed +his head against the breast of John Bard and it seemed to him that there +was still a faint pulse. With his pocket knife he ripped away the coat +from the great chest and then tore open the shirt. On the expanse of the +hairy chest there was one spot from which the purple blood welled; a +deadly place for a wound, and yet the bleeding showed that there must +still be life. + +He had no chance to bind the wound, for John Bard opened his eyes again +and said, as if in his dream he had still continued his tale to Anthony. + +"So that's all the story, lad. Do you forgive me?" + +"For what, sir? In God's name, for what?" + +"Damnation! Tell me; do you forgive John Bard?" + +He did not hear the answer, for he murmured: "Even Joan would forgive," +and died. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +BLUEBEARD'S ROOM + +As Anthony Woodbury, he knelt beside the dying. As Anthony Bard he rose +with the dead man in his arms a mighty burden even for his supple +strength; yet he went staggering up the slope, across a level terrace, +and back to the house. There it was Peters who answered his call, Peters +with a flabby face grown grey, but still the perfect servant who asked +no questions; together they bore the weight up the stairs and placed it +on John Bard's bed. While Anthony kept his steady vigil by the dead man, +it was Peters again who summoned the police and the useless doctor. + +To the old, uniformed sergeant, Anthony told a simple lie. His father +had gone for a walk through the grounds because the night was fine, and +Anthony was to join him there later, but when he arrived he found a +dying man who could not even explain the manner of his death. + +"Nothin' surprises me about a rich man's death," said the sergeant, +"not in these here days of anarchy. Got a place to write? I want to make +out my report." + +So Anthony led the grizzled fellow to the library and supplied him with +what he wished. The sergeant, saying good-bye, shook hands with a +lingering grip. + +"I knew John Woodbury," he said, "just by sight, but I'm here to tell +the world that you've lost a father who was just about all man. So long; +I'll be seein' you again." + +Left alone, Anthony Bard went to the secret room. The key fitted +smoothly into the lock. What the door opened upon was a little grey +apartment with an arched ceiling, a place devoid of a single article of +furniture save a straight-backed chair in the centre. Otherwise Anthony +saw three things-two pictures on the wall and a little box in the +corner. He went about his work very calmly, for here, he knew, was the +only light upon the past of John Bard, that past which had lain passive +so long and overwhelmed him on this night. + +First he took up the box, as being by far the most promising of the +three to give him what he wished to know; the name of the slayer, the +place where he could be found, and the cause of the slaying. It held +only two things; a piece of dirty silk and a small oil can; but the oil +can and the black smears on the silk made him look closer, closer until +the meaning struck him in a flare, as the glow of a lighted match +suddenly illumines, even if faintly, an entire room. + +In that box the revolver had lain, and here every day through all the +year, John Bard retired to clean and oil his gun, oil and reclean it, +keeping it ready for the crisis. That was why he went to the secret room +as soon as he heard the call from the garden, and carrying that gun with +him he had walked out, prepared. The time had come for which he had +waited a quarter of a century, knowing all that time that the day must +arrive. It was easy to understand now many an act of the big grim man; +but still there was no light upon the slayer. + +As he sat pondering he began to feel as if eyes were fastened upon him, +watching, waiting, mocking him, eyes from behind which stared until a +chill ran up his back. He jerked his head up, at last, and flashed a +glance over his shoulder. + +Indeed there was mockery in the smile with which she stared down to him +from her frame, down to him and past him as if she scorned in him all +men forever. It was not that which made Anthony close his eyes. He was +trying with all his might to conjure up his own image vividly. He +looked again, comparing his picture with this portrait on the wall, and +then he knew why the grey man at the Garden had said: "Son, who's your +mother?" For this was she into whose eyes he now stared. + +She had the same deep, dark eyes, the same black hair, the same rather +aquiline, thin face which her woman's eyes and lovely mouth made +beautiful, but otherwise the same. He was simply a copy of that head +hewn with a rough chisel--a sculptor's clay model rather than a smoothly +finished re-production. + +Ah, and the fine spirit of her, the buoyant, proud, scornful spirit! He +stretched out his arms to her, drew closer, smiling as if she could meet +and welcome his caress, and then remembered that this was a thing of +canvas and paint--a bright shadow; no more. + +To the second picture he turned with a deeper hope, but his heart fell +at once, for all he saw was an enlarged photograph, two mountains, +snow-topped in the distance, and in the foreground, first a mighty pine +with the branches lopped smoothly from the side as though some +tremendous ax had trimmed it, behind this a ranch-house, and farther +back the smooth waters of a lake. + +He turned away sadly and had reached the door when something made him +turn back and stand once more before the photograph. It was quite the +same, but it took on a different significance as he linked it with the +two other objects in the room, the picture of his mother and the +revolver box. He found himself searching among the forest for the +figures of two great grey men, equal in bulk, such Titans as that wild +country needed. + +West it must be, but where? North or South? West, and from the West +surely that grey man at the Garden had come, and from the West John Bard +himself. Those two mountains, spearing the sky with their sharp +horns--they would be the pole by which he steered his course. + +A strong purpose is to a man what an engine is to a ship. Suppose a hull +lies in the water, stanchly built, graceful in lines of strength and +speed, nosing at the wharf or tugging back on the mooring line, it may +be a fine piece of building but it cannot be much admired. But place an +engine in the hull and add to those fine lines the purr of a +motor--there is a sight which brings a smile to the lips and a light in +the eyes. Anthony had been like the unengined hulk, moored in gentle +waters with never the hope of a voyage to rough seas. Now that his +purpose came to him he was calmly eager, almost gay in the prospect of +the battle. + +On the highest hill of Anson Place in a tomb overlooking the waters of +the sound, they lowered the body of John Bard. + +Afterward Anthony Bard went back to the secret room of his father. The +old name of Anthony Woodbury he had abandoned; in fact, he felt almost +like dating a new existence from the moment when he heard the voice +calling out of the garden: "John Bard, come out to me!" If life was a +thread, that voice was the shears which snapped the trend of his life +and gave him a new beginning. As Anthony Bard he opened once more the +door of the chamber. + +He had replaced the revolver of John Bard in the box with the oiled +silk. Now he took it out again and shoved it into his back trouser +pocket, and then stood a long moment under the picture of the woman he +knew was his mother. As he stared he felt himself receding to youth, to +boyhood, to child days, finally to a helpless infant which that woman, +perhaps, had held and loved. In those dark, brooding eyes he strove to +read the mystery of his existence, but they remained as unriddled as the +free stars of heaven. + +He repeated to himself his new name, his real name: "Anthony Bard." It +seemed to make him a stranger in his own eyes. "Woodbury" had been a +name of culture; it suggested the air of a long descent. "Bard" was +terse, short, brutally abrupt, alive with possibilities of action. Those +possibilities he would never learn from the dead lips of his father. He +sought them from his mother, but only the painted mouth and the painted +smile answered him. + +He turned again to the picture of the house with the snow-topped +mountains in the distance. There surely, was the solution; somewhere in +the infinite reaches of the West. + +Finally he cut the picture from its frame and rolled it up. He felt that +in so doing he would carry with him an identification tag--a clue to +himself. With that clue in his travelling bag, he started for the city, +bought his ticket, and boarded a train for the West. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +MARTY WILKES + +The motion of the train, during those first two days gave Anthony Bard a +strange feeling that he was travelling from the present into the past. +He felt as if it was not miles that he placed behind him, but days, +weeks, months, years, that unrolled and carried him nearer and nearer to +the beginning of himself. He heard nothing about him; he saw nothing of +the territory which whirled past the window. They were already far West +before a man boarded the train and carried to Bard the whole atmosphere +of the mountain desert. + +He got on the train at a Nebraska station and Anthony sat up to watch, +for a man of importance does not need size in order to have a mien. +Napoleon struck awe through the most gallant of his hero marshals, and +even the porter treated this little brown man with a respect that was +ludicrous at first glimpse. + +He was so ugly that one smiled on glancing at him. His face, built on +the plan of a wedge, was extremely narrow in front, with a long, +high-bridged nose, slanting forehead, thin-lipped mouth, and a chin that +jutted out to a point, but going back all the lines flared out like a +reversed vista. A ridge of muscle crested each side of the broad jaws +and the ears flaunted out behind so that he seemed to have been built +for travelling through the wind. + +The same wind, perhaps, had blown the hair away from the upper part of +his forehead, leaving him quite bald half way back on his head, where a +veritable forest of hair began, and continued, growing thicker and +longer, until it brushed the collar of his coat behind. + +When he entered the car he stood eying his seat for a long moment like a +dog choosing the softest place on the floor before it lies down. Then he +took his place and sat with his hands folded in his lap, moveless, +speechless, with the little keen eyes straight before him--three hours +that state continued. Then he got up and Anthony followed him to the +diner. They sat at the same table. + +"The journey," said Anthony, "is pretty tiresome through monotonous +scenery like this." + +The little keen eyes surveyed him a moment before the man spoke. + +"There was buffalo on them plains once." + +If someone had said to an ignorant questioner, "This little knoll is +called Bunker Hill," he could not have been more abashed than was +Anthony, who glanced through the window at the dreary prospect, looked +back again, and found that the sharp eyes once more looked straight +ahead without the slightest light of triumph in his coup. Silence, +apparently, did not in the least abash this man. + +"Know a good deal about buffaloes?" + +"Yes." + +It was not the insulting curtness of one who wishes to be left in peace, +but simply a statement of bald fact. + +"Really?" queried Anthony. "I didn't think you were as old as that!" + +It appeared that this remark was worthy of no answer whatever. The +little man turned his attention to his order of ham and eggs, cut off +the first egg, manoeuvred it carefully into position on his knife, and +raised it toward a mouth that stretched to astonishing proportions; but +at the critical moment the egg slipped and flopped back on the plate. + +"Missed!" said Anthony. + +He couldn't help it; the ejaculation popped out of its own accord. The +other regarded him with grave displeasure. + +"If you had your bead drawed an' somebody jogged your arm jest as you +pulled the trigger, would you call it a miss?" + +"Excuse me. I've no doubt you're extremely accurate." + +"I ne'er miss," said the other, and proved it by disposing of the egg at +the next imposing mouthful. + +"I should like to know you. My name is Anthony Bard." + +"I'm Marty Wilkes. H'ware ye?" + +They shook hands. + +"Westerner, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"This is my furthest East." + +"Have a pleasant time?" + +A gesture indicated the barren, brown waste of prairie. + +"Too much civilization." + +"Really?" + +"Even the cattle got no fight in 'em." He added, "That sounds like I'm a +fighter. I ain't." + +"Till you're stirred up, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"Heat me up an' I'll burn. Soil wood." + +"You're pretty familiar with the Western country?" + +"I get around." + +"Perhaps you'd recognize this." + +He took a scroll from his breast pocket and unrolled the photograph of +the forest and the ranchhouse with the two mountains in the distance. +Wilkes considered it unperturbed. + +"Them are the Little Brothers." + +"Ah! Then all I have to do is to travel to the foot of the Little +Brothers?" + +"No, about sixty miles from 'em." "Impossible! Why, the mountains almost +overhang that house." + +Wilkes handed back the picture and resumed his eating without reply. It +was not a sullen resentment; it was hunger and a lack of curiosity. He +was not "heated up." + +"Any one," said Anthony, to lure the other on, "could see that." + +"Sure; any one with bad eyes." + +"But how can you tell it's sixty miles?" + +"I've been there." + +"Well, at least the big tree there and the ranchhouse will not be very +hard to find. But I suppose I'll have to travel in a circle around the +Little Brothers, keeping a sixty-mile radius?" + +"If you want to waste a pile of time. Yes." + +"I suppose you could lead me right to the spot?" + +"I could." + +"How?" + +"That's about fifty-five miles straight north-east of the Little +Brothers." + +"How the devil can you tell that, man?" + +"That ain't hard. They's a pretty steady north wind that blows in them +parts. It's cold and it's strong. Now when you been out there long +enough and get the idea that the only things that live is because God +loves 'em. Mostly it's jest plain sand and rock. The trees live because +they got protection from that north wind. Nature puts moss on 'em on the +north side to shelter 'em from that same wind. Look at that picture +close. You see that rough place on the side of that tree--jest a shadow +like the whiskers of a man that ain't shaved for a week? That's the +moss. Now if that's north, the rest is easy. That place is north-east of +the Little Brothers." + +"By Jove! how did you get such eyes?" + +"Used 'em." + +"The reason I'd like to find the house is because--" + +"Reasons ain't none too popular with me." + +"Well, you're pretty sure that your suggestion will take me to the +spot?" + +"I'm sure of nothing except my gun when the weather's hot." + +"Reasonably sure, however? The pine trees and the house--if I don't find +one I'll find the other." + +"The house'll be in ruins, probably." + +"Why?" + +"That picture was taken a long time ago." + +"Do you read the mind of a picture, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"No." + +"The tree, however, will be there." + +"No, that's chopped down." + +"That's going a bit too far. Do you mean to say you know that this +particular tree is down?" + +"That's first growth. All that country's been cut over. D'you think +they'd pass up a tree the size of that?" + +"It's going to be hard," said Anthony with a frown, "for me to get used +to the West." + +"Maybe not." + +"I can ride and shoot pretty well, but I don't know the people, I +haven't worn their clothes, and I can't talk their lingo." + +"The country's mostly rocks when it ain't ground; the people is pretty +generally men and women; the clothes they wear is cotton and wool, the +lingo they talk is English." + +It was like a paragraph out of some book of ultimate knowledge. He was +not entirely contented with his statement, however, for now he qualified +it as follows: "Maybe some of 'em don't talk good book English. Quite a +pile ain't had much eddication; in fact there ain't awful many like me. +But they can tell you how much you owe 'em an' they'll understand you +when you say you're hungry. What's your business? Excuse me; I don't +generally ask questions." + +"That's all right. You've probably caught the habit from me. I'm simply +going out to look about for excitement." + +"A feller gener'ly finds what he's lookin' for. Maybe you won't be +disappointed. I've knowed places on the range where excitement growed +like fruit on a tree. It was like that there manna in the Bible. You +didn't have to work none for it. You jest laid still an' it sort of +dropped in your mouth." + +He added with a sigh: "But them times ain't no more." + +"That's hard on me, eh?" + +"Don't start complainin' till you miss your feed. Things are gettin' +pretty crowded, but there's ways of gettin' elbow room--even at a bar." + +"And you really think there's nothing which distinguishes the Westerner +from the Easterner?" + +"Just the Western feeling, partner. Get that an' you'll be at home." + +"If you were a little further East and said that, people might be +inclined to smile a bit." + +"Partner, if they did, they wouldn't finish their smile. But I heard a +feller say once that the funny thing about men east and west of the +Rockies was that they was all--" + +He paused as if trying to remember. + +"Well?" + +"Americans, Mr. Bard." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"THIS PLACE FOR REST" + +As the white heat of midday passed and the shadows lengthened more and +more rapidly to the east, the sheep moved out from the shade and from +the tangle of the brush to feed in the open, and the dogs, which had +laid one on either side of the man, rose and trotted out to recommence +their vigil; but the shepherd did not change his position where he sat +cross-legged under the tree. + +Alternately he stroked the drooping moustache to the right and then to +the left, with a little twist each time, which turned the hair to a +sharp point in its furthest downward reach near his chin. To the right, +to the left, to the right, to the left, while his eyes, sad with a +perpetual mist, looked over the lake and far away to the white tops of +the Little Brothers, now growing blue with shadow. + +Finally with a brown forefinger he lifted the brush of moustache on his +upper lip, leaned a little, and spat. After that he leaned back with a +sigh of content; the brown juice had struck fairly and squarely on the +centre of the little stone which for the past two hours he had been +endeavouring vainly to hit. The wind had been against him. + +All was well. The spindling tops of the second-growth forest pointed +against the pale blue of a stainless sky, and through that clear air the +blatting of the most distant sheep sounded close, mingled with the light +clangour of the bells. But the perfect peace was broken rudely now by +the form of a horseman looming black and large against the eastern sky. +He trotted his horse down the slope, scattered a group of noisy sheep +from side to side before him, and drew rein before the shepherd. + +"Evening." + +"Evening, stranger." + +"Own this land?" + +"No; rent it." + +"Could I camp here?" + +The shepherd lifted his moustache again and spat; when he spoke his eyes +held steadily and sadly on the little stone, which he had missed again. + +"Can't think of nobody who'd stop you." + +"That your house over there? You rent that?" + +He pointed to a broken-backed ruin which stood on the point of land that +jutted out onto the waters of the lake, a crumbling structure slowly +blackening with time. + +"Nope." + +A shadow of a frown crossed the face of the stranger and was gone again +more quickly than a cloud shadow brushed over the window on a windy city +in March. + +"Well," he said, "this place looks pretty good to me. Ever fish those +streams?" + +"Don't eat fish." + +"I'll wager you're missing some first-class trout, though. By Jove, I'd +like to cast a couple of times over some of the pools I've passed in the +last hour! By the way, who owns that house over there?" + +"Same feller that owns this land." + +"That so? What's his name?" + +The other lifted his shaggy eyebrows and stared at the stranger. + +"Ain't been long around here, eh?" + +"No." + +"William Drew, he owns that house." + +"William Drew?" repeated the rider, as though imprinting the word on his +memory. "Is he home?" + +"Maybe." + +"I'll ride over and ask him if he can put me up." + +"Wait a minute. He may be home, but he lives on the other side of the +range." + +"Very far from here?" + +"Apiece." + +"How'll I know him when I see him?" + +"Big feller--grey--broad shoulders." + +"Ah!" murmured the other, and smiled as though the picture pleased him. +"I'll hunt him up and ask him if I can camp out in this house of his for +a while." + +"Well, that's your party." + +"Don't you think he'd let me?" + +"Maybe; but the house ain't lucky." + +"That so?" + +"Sure. There's a grave in front of it." + +"A grave? Whose?" + +"Dunno." + +"Well, it doesn't worry me. I'll drop over the hill and see Drew." + +"Maybe you'd better wait. You'll be passin' him on the road, like as +not." + +"How's that?" + +"He comes over here on Tuesdays once a month; to-morrow he's about due." + +"Good. In the meantime I can camp over there by that stream, eh?" + +"Don't know of nobody who'd stop you." + +"By the way, what brings Drew over here every month?" + +"Never asked him. I was brung up not to ask questions." + +The stranger accepted this subtle rebuke with such an open, infectious +laugh that the shepherd smiled in the very act of spitting at the stone, +with the result that he missed it by whole inches. + +"I'll answer some of the questions you haven't asked, then. My name is +Anthony Bard and I'm out here seeing the mountains and having a bully +time in general with my rod and gun." + +The sad eyes regarded him without interest, but Bard swung from his +horse and advanced with outstretched hand. + +"I may be about here for a few days and we might as well get acquainted, +eh? I'll promise to lay off the questions." + +"I'm Logan." + +"Glad to know you, Mr. Logan." + +"Same t'you. Don't happen to have no fine-cut about you?" + +"No. Sorry." + +"So'm I. Ran out an' now all I've got is plug. Kind of hard on the teeth +an' full of molasses." + +"I've some pipe tobacco, though, which might do." + +He produced a pouch which Logan opened, taking from it a generous pinch. + +"Looks kind of like fine-cut--smells kind of like the real thing"--here +he removed the quid from his mouth and introduced the great pinch of +tobacco--"an' I'll be damned if it don't taste a pile the same!" + +The misty eyes centred upon Bard and a light grew up in them. + +"Maybe you'd put a price on this tobacco, stranger?" + +"It's yours," said Bard, "to help you forget all the questions I've +asked." + +The shepherd acted at once lest the other might change his mind, dumping +the contents of the pouch into the breast pocket of his shirt. Afterward +his gaze sought the dim summits of the Little Brothers, and a sad, great +resolution grew up and hardened the lines of his sallow face. + +"You can camp with me if you want--partner." + +A cough, hastily summoned, covered Bard's smile. + +"Thanks awfully, but I'm used to camping alone--and rather like it that +way." + +"Which I'd say, the same goes here," responded the shepherd with +infinite relief, "I ain't got much use for company--away from a bar. But +I could show you a pretty neat spot for a camp, over there by the +river." + +"Thanks, but I'll explore for myself." + +He swung again into the saddle and trotted whistling down the slope +toward the creek which Logan had pointed out. But once fairly out of +sight in the second-growth forest, he veered sharply to the right, +touched his tough cattle-pony with the spurs, and headed at a racing +pace straight for the old ruined house. + +Even from a distance the house appeared unmistakably done for, but not +until he came close at hand could Bard appreciate the full extent of the +ruin. Every individual board appeared to be rotting and crumbling toward +the ground, awaiting the shake of one fierce gust of wind to disappear +in a cloud of mouldy dust. He left his horse with the reins hanging over +its head behind the house and entered by the back door. One step past +the threshold brought him misadventure, for his foot drove straight +through the rotten flooring and his leg disappeared up to the knee. + +After that he proceeded more cautiously, following the lines of the +beams on which the boards were nailed, but even these shook and groaned +under his weight. A whimsical fancy made him think of the fabled boat of +Charon which will float a thousand bodiless spirits over the Styx but +which sinks to the water-line with the weight of a single human being. + +So he passed forward like one in a fabric of spider-webs almost fearing +to breathe lest the whole house should puff away to shreds before him. +Half the boards, fallen from the ceiling, revealed the bare rafters +above; below there were ragged holes in the flooring. In one place a +limb, torn by lightning or wind from its overhanging tree, had crashed +through the corner of the roof and dropped straight through to the +ground. + +At last he reached a habitable room in the front of the house. It was a +new shell built inside the old wreck, with four stout corner-posts +supporting cross-beams, which in turn held up the mouldering roof. In +the centre was a rude table and on either side a bunk built against the +wall. Perhaps this was where Drew lived on the occasions of his visits +to the old ranchhouse. + +Out of the gloom of the place, Bard stepped with a shrug of the +shoulders, like one who shakes off the spell of a nightmare. He strode +through the doorway and took the slant, warm sun of the afternoon full +in his face. + +He found himself in front of the only spot on the entire premises which +showed the slightest care, the mound of a grave under the shelter of two +trees whose branches were interwoven overhead in a sort of impromptu +roof. From the surface of the mound all the weeds and grasses had been +carefully cleared away, and around its edge ran a path covered with +gravel and sand. It was a wellbeaten path with the mark of heels still +comparatively fresh upon it. + +The headstone itself bore not a vestige of moss, but time had cracked it +diagonally and the chiselled letters were weathered away. He studied it +with painful care, poring intently over each faint impression. He who +cared for the grave had apparently been troubled only to keep the stone +free from dirt--the lettering he must have known by heart. At length +Bard made out this inscription: + + + HERE SLEEPS + + JOAN + + WIFE OF WILLIAM DREW + + SHE CHOSE THIS PLACE FOR REST + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A BIT OF STALKING + +It seemed as if the peaceful afternoons of Logan were ended forever, for +the next day the scene of interruption was repeated under almost +identical circumstances, save that the tree under which the shepherd sat +was a little larger. Larger also was the man who rode over the brow of +the hill to the east. The most durable cattle-pony would have staggered +under the bulk of that rider, and therefore he rode a great, +patient-eyed bay, with shoulders worthy of shoving against a +work-collar; but the neck tapered down small behind a short head, and +the legs, for all their breadth at shoulder and hip, slipped away to +small hoofs, and ankles which sloped sharply to the rear, the sure sign +of the fine saddle-horse. + +Yet the strong horse was winded by the burden he bore, a mighty figure, +deep-chested, amply shouldered, an ideal cavalier for the days when +youths rode out in armour-plate to seek adventures and when men of +fifty still lifted the lance to run a "friendly" course or two in the +lists. + +At sight of him Logan so far bestirred himself as to uncoil his long +legs, rise, and stand with one shoulder propped against the tree. + +"Evening, Mr. Drew," he called. + +"Hello, Logan. How's everything with you?" + +He would have ridden on, but at Logan's reply he checked his horse to a +slow walk. + +"Busy. Lots of company lately, Mr. Drew." + +"Company?" + +"Yes, there's a young feller come along who says he wants to see you. +He's over there by the creek now, fishin' I think. I told him I'd holler +if I seen you, but I guess you wouldn't mind ridin' over that way +yourself." + +Drew brought his horse to a halt. + +"What does he want of me?" + +"Dunno. Something about wanting to hunt and fish on your streams here." + +"Why didn't you tell him he was welcome to do what he liked? Must be an +Easterner, Logan." + +"Wants to bunk in the old house, too. Seems sort of interested in it." + +"That so? What sort of a fellow is he?" + +"All right. A bit talky. Green; but he rides damn well, an' he smokes +good tobacco." + +His hand automatically rose and touched his breast pocket. + +"I'll go over to him," said Drew, and swung his horse to the left, but +only to come again to a halt. + +He called over his shoulder: "What sort of a looking fellow?" + +"Pretty keen--dark," answered Logan, slipping down into his original +position. "Thin face; black eyes." + +"Ah, yes," murmured Drew, and started at a trot for the creek. + +Once more he imitated the actions of Bard the day before, however, for +no sooner had the trees screened him thoroughly from the eyes of Logan +than he abandoned his direct course for the creek. He swung from the +saddle with an ease surprising in a man of such age and bulk and tossed +the reins over the head of the horse. + +Then he commenced a cautious stalking through the woods, silent as an +Indian, stealthy of foot, with eyes that glanced sharply in all +directions. Once a twig snapped under foot, and after that he remained +motionless through a long moment, shrinking against the trunk of a tree +and scanning the forest anxiously in all directions. At length he +ventured out again, grown doubly cautious. In this manner he worked his +way up the course of the stream, always keeping the waters just within +sight but never passing out on the banks, where the walking would have +been tenfold easier. So he came in sight of a figure far off through the +trees. + +If he had been cautious before, he became now as still as night. +Dropping to hands and knees, or crouching almost as prone, he moved from +the shadow of one tree to the next, now and then venturing a glance to +make sure that he was pursuing the right course, until he manoeuvred to +a point of vantage which commanded a clear view of Bard. + +The latter was fishing, with his back to Drew. Again and again he cast +his fly out under an overhanging limb which shadowed a deep pool. The +big grey man set his teeth and waited with the patience of a stalking +beast of prey, or a cat which will sit half the day waiting for the +mouse to show above the opening of its hole. + +Apparently there was a bite at length. The pole bent almost double and +the reel played back and forth rapidly as the fisher wore down his +victim. Finally he came close to the edge of the stream, dipped his net +into the water, and jerked it up at once bearing a twisting, shining +trout enwrapped in the meshes. Swinging about as he did so, Drew caught +his first full glimpse of Anthony's face, and knew him for the man who +had ridden the wild horse at Madison Square Garden those weeks before. + +Perhaps it was astonishment that moved the big man--surely it could not +have been fear--yet he knelt there behind the sheltering tree +grey-faced, wide, and blank of eye, as a man might look who dreamed and +awoke to see his vision standing before him in full sunlit life. What +his expression became then could not be said, for he buried his face in +his hands and his great body shook with a tremor. If this was not fear +it was something very like. + +And very like a man in fear he stole back among the trees as cautiously +as he had made his approach. Resuming his horse he rode straight for +Logan. + +"Couldn't find your young friend," he said, "along the creek." + +"Why," said Logan, "I can reach him with a holler from here, I think." + +"Never mind; just tell him that he's welcome to do what he pleases on +the place; and he can bunk down at the house if he wants to. I'd like to +know his name, though." + +"That's easy. Anthony Bard." + +"Ah," said Drew slowly, "Anthony Bard!" + +"That's it," nodded Logan, and fixed a curious eye upon the big grey +rider. + +As if to escape from that inquiring scrutiny, Drew wheeled his horse and +spurred at a sharp gallop up the hill, leaving Logan frowning behind. + +"No stay over night," muttered the shepherd. "No fooling about that +damned old shack of a house; what's wrong with Drew?" + +He answered himself, for all shepherds are forced by the bitter +loneliness of their work to talk with themselves. "The old boy's +worried. Damned if he isn't! I'll keep an eye on this Bard feller." + +And he loosened the revolver in its holster. + +He might have been even more concerned had he seen the redoubled speed +with which Drew galloped as soon as the hilltop was between him and +Logan. Straight on he pushed his horse, not exactly like one who fled +but rather more like one too busy with consuming thoughts to pay the +slightest heed to the welfare of his mount. It was a spent horse on +which he trotted late that night up to the big, yawning door of his +barn. + +"Where's Nash?" he asked of the man who took his horse. + +"Playing a game with the boys in the bunk-house, sir." + +So past the bunk-house Drew went on his way to his dwelling, knocked, +and threw open the door. Inside, a dozen men, seated at or standing +around a table, looked up. + +"Nash!" + +"Here." + +"On the jump, Nash. I'm in a hurry." + +There rose a man of a build much prized in pugilistic circles. In those +same circles he would have been described as a fellow with a fighting +face and a heavy-weight above the hips and a light-weight below--a +handsome fellow, except that his eyes were a little too small and his +lips a trifle too thin. He rose now in the midst of a general groan of +dismay, and scooped in a considerable stack of gold as well as several +bright piles of silver; he was undoubtedly taking the glory of the game +with him. + +"Is this square?" growled one of the men clenching his fist on the edge +of the table. + +The sardonic smile hardened on the lips of Nash as he answered: "Before +you've been here much longer, Pete, you'll find out that about +everything I do is square. Sorry to leave you, boys, before you're +broke, but orders is orders." + +"But one more hand first," pleaded Pete. + +"You poor fool," snarled Nash, "d'you think I'll take a chance on +keepin' _him_ waiting?" + +The last of his winnings passed with a melodious jingling into his +pockets and he went hurriedly out of the bunk-house and up to the main +building. There he found Drew in the room which the rancher used as an +office, and stood at the door hat in hand. + +"Come in; sit down," said "_him_." "Been taking the money from the boys +again, Steve? I thought I talked with you about that a month ago?" + +"It's this way, Mr. Drew," explained Nash, "with me stayin' away from +the cards is like a horse stayin' off its feed. Besides, I done the +square thing by the lot of those short-horns." + +"How's that?" + +"I showed 'em my hand." + +"Told them you were a professional gambler?" + +"Sure. I explained they didn't have no chance against me." + +"And of course that made them throw every cent they had against you?" + +"Maybe." + +"It can't go on, Nash." + +"Look here, Mr. Drew. I told 'em that I wasn't a gambler but just a +gold-digger." + +The big man could not restrain his smile, though it came like a shadow +of mirth rather than the sunlight. + +"After all, they might as well lose it to you as to someone else." + +"Sure," grinned Nash, "it keeps it in the family, eh?" + +"But one of these days, Steve, crooked cards will be the end of you." + +"I'm still pretty fast on the draw," said Steve sullenly. + +"All right. That's your business. Now I want you to listen to some of +mine." + +"Real work?" + +"Your own line." + +"That," said Nash, with a smile of infinite meaning, "sounds like the +dinner bell to me. Let her go, sir!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +THE QUEST BEGINS + +"You know the old place on the other side of the range?" + +"Like a book. I got pet names for all the trees." + +"There's a man there I want." + +"Logan?" + +"No. His name is Bard." + +"H-m! Any relation of the old bird that was partners with you back about +the year one?" + +"I want Anthony Bard brought here," said. Drew, entirely overlooking the +question. + +"Easy. I can make the trip in a buckboard and I'll dump him in the back +of it." + +"No. He's got to _ride_ here, understand?" + +"A dead man," said Nash calmly, "ain't much good on a hoss." + +"Listen to me," said Drew, his voice lowering to a sort of musical +thunder, "if you harm a hair of this lad's head I'll-I'll break you in +two with my own hands." + +And he made a significant gesture as if he were snapping a twig between +his fingers. Nash moistened his lips, then his square, powerful jaw +jutted out. + +"Which the general idea is me doing baby talk and sort of hypnotizing +this Bard feller into coming along?" + +"More than that. He's got to be brought here alive, untouched, and +placed in that chair tied so that he can't move hand or foot for ten +minutes while I talk." + +"Nice, quiet day you got planned for me, Mr. Drew." + +The grey man considered thoughtfully. + +"Now and then you've told me of a girl at Eldara--I think her name is +Sally Fortune?" + +"Right. She begins where the rest of the calico leaves off." + +"H-m! that sounds familiar, somehow. Well, Steve, you've said that if +you had a good start you think the girl would marry you." + +"I think she might." + +"She pretty fond of you?" + +"She knows that if I can't have her I'm fast enough to keep everyone +else away." + +"I see. A process of elimination with you as the eliminator. Rather an +odd courtship, Steve?" + +The cowpuncher grew deadly serious. + +"You see, I love her. There ain't no way of bucking out of that. So do +nine out of ten of all the boys that've seen her. Which one will she +pick? That's the question we all keep askin', because of all the +contrary, freckle-faced devils with the heart of a man an' the smile of +a woman, Sally has 'em all beat from the drop of the barrier. One feller +has money; another has looks; another has a funny line of talk. But I've +got the fastest gun. So Sally sees she's due for a complete outfit of +black mournin' if she marries another man while I'm alive; an' that +keeps her thinkin'. But if I had the price of a start in the world--why, +maybe she'd take a long look at me." + +"Would she call one thousand dollars in cash a start in the world--and +your job as foreman of my place, with twice the salary you have now?" + +Steve Nash wiped his forehead. + +He said huskily: "A joke along this line don't bring no laugh from me, +governor." + +"I mean it, Steve. Get Anthony Bard tied hand and foot into this house +so that I can talk to him safely for ten minutes, and you'll have +everything I promise. Perhaps more. But that depends." + +The blunt-fingered hand of Nash stole across the table. + +"If it's a go, shake, Mr. Drew." + +A mighty hand fell in his, and under the pressure he set his teeth. +Afterward he covertly moved his fingers and sighed with relief to see +that no permanent harm had been done. + +"Me speakin' personal, Mr. Drew, I'd of give a lot to seen you when you +was ridin' the range. This Bard--he'll be here before sunset to-morrow." + +"Don't jump to conclusions, Steve. I've an idea that before you count +your thousand you'll think that you've been underpaid. That's straight." + +"This Bard is something of a man?" + +"I can say that without stopping to think." + +"Texas?" + +"No. He's a tenderfoot, but he can ride a horse as if he was sewed to +the skin, and I've an idea that he can do other things up to the same +standard. If you can find two or three men who have silent tongues and +strong hands, you'd better take them along. I'll pay their wages, and +big ones. You can name your price." + +But Nash was frowning. + +"Now and then I talk to the cards a bit, Mr. Drew, and you'll hear +fellers say some pretty rough things about me, but I've never asked for +no odds against any man. I'm not going to start now." + +"You're a hard man, Steve, but so am I; and hard men are the kind I take +to. I know that you're the best foreman who ever rode this range and I +know that when you start things you generally finish them. All that I +ask is that you bring Bard to me in this house. The way you do it is +your own problem. Drunk or drugged, I don't care how, but get him here +unharmed. Understand?" + +"Mr. Drew, you can start figurin' what you want to say to him now. I'll +get him here--safe! And then Sally--" + +"If money will buy her you'll have me behind you when you bid." + +"When shall I start?" + +"Now." + +"So-long, then." + +He rose and passed hastily from the room, leaning forward from the hips +like a man who is making a start in a foot-race. + +Straight up the stairs he went to his room, for the foreman lived in the +big house of the rancher. There he took a quantity of equipment from a +closet and flung it on the bed. Over three selections he lingered long. + +The first was the cartridge belt, and he tried over several with +conscientious care until he found the one which received the cartridges +with the greatest ease. He could flip them out in the night, +automatically as a pianist fingers the scale in the dark. + +Next he examined lariats painfully, inch by inch, as though he were +going out to rope the stanchest steer that ever roamed the range. +Already he knew that those ropes were sound and true throughout, but he +took no chances now. One of the ropes he discarded because one or two +strands in it were, or might be, a trifle frayed. The others he took +alternately and whirled with a broad loop, standing in the centre of the +room. Of the set one was a little more supple, a little more durable, it +seemed. This he selected and coiled swiftly. + +Last of all he lingered--and longest--over his revolvers. Six in all, he +set them in a row along the bed and without delay threw out two to begin +with. Then he fingered the others, tried their weight and balance, +slipped cartridges into the cylinders and extracted them again, whirled +the cylinders, examined the minutest parts of the actions. + +They were all such guns as an expert would have turned over with shining +eyes, but finally he threw one aside into the discard; the cylinder +revolved just a little too hard. Another was abandoned after much +handling of the remaining three because to the delicate touch of Nash it +seemed that the weight of the barrel was a gram more than in the other +two; but after this selection it seemed that there was no possible +choice between the final two. + +So he stood in the centre of the room and went through a series of odd +gymnastics. Each gun in turn he placed in the holster and then jerked it +out, spinning it on the trigger guard around his second finger, while +his left hand shot diagonally across his body and "fanned" the hammer. +Still he could not make his choice, but he would not abandon the effort. +It was an old maxim with him that there is in all the world one gun +which is the best of all and with which even a novice can become a +"killer." + +He tried walking away, whirling as he made his draw, and levelling the +gun on the door-knob. Then without moving his hand, he lowered his head +and squinted down the sights. In each case the bead was drawn to a +centre shot. Last of all he weighed each gun; one seemed a trifle +lighter--the merest shade lighter than the other. This he slipped into +the holster and carried the rest of his apparatus back to the closet +from which he had taken it. + +Still the preparation had not ended. Filling his cartridge belt, every +cartridge was subject to a rigid inspection. A full half hour was wasted +in this manner. Wasted, because he rejected not one of the many he +examined. Yet he seemed happier after having made his selection, and +went down the stairs, humming softly. + +Out to the barn he went, lantern in hand. This time he made no +comparison of horses but went directly to an ugly-headed roan, long of +leg, vicious of eye, thin-shouldered, and with hips that slanted sharply +down. No one with a knowledge of fine horse-flesh could have looked on +this brute without aversion. It did not have even size in its favour. A +wild, free spirit, perhaps, might be the reason; but the animal stood +with hanging head and pendant lower lip. One eye was closed and the +other only half opened. A blind affection, then, made him go to this +horse first of all. + +No, his greeting was to jerk his knee sharply into the ribs of the roan, +which answered with a grunt and swung its head around with bared teeth, +like an angry dog. "Damn your eyes!" roared the hoarse voice of Steve +Nash, "stand still or I'll knock you for a goal!" + +The ears of the mustang flattened close to its neck and a devil of hate +came up in its eyes, but it stood quiet, while Nash went about at a +judicious distance and examined all the vital points. The hoofs were +sound, the backbone prominent, but not a high ridge from famine or much +hard riding, and the indomitable hate in the eyes of the mustang seemed +to please the cowpuncher. + +It was a struggle to bridle the beast, which was accomplished only by +grinding the points of his knuckles into a tender part of the jowl to +make the locked teeth open. + +In saddling, the knee came into play again, rapping the ribs of the +brute repeatedly before the wind, which swelled out the chest to false +proportions, was expelled in a sudden grunt, and the cinch whipped up +taut. After that Nash dodged the flying heels, chose his time, and +vaulted into the saddle. + +The mustang trotted quietly out of the barn. Perhaps he had had his fill +of bucking on that treacherous, slippery wooden floor, but once outside +he turned loose the full assortment of the cattle-pony's tricks. It was +only ten minutes, but while it lasted the cursing of Nash was loud and +steady, mixed with the crack of his murderous quirt against the roan's +flanks. The bucking ended as quickly as it had begun, and they started +at a long canter over the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +THE FIRST DAY + +Mile after mile of the rough trail fell behind him, and still the pony +shambled along at a loose trot or a swinging canter; the steep upgrades +it took at a steady jog and where the slopes pitched sharply down, it +wound among the rocks with a faultless sureness of foot. + +Certainly the choice of Nash was well made. An Eastern horse of blood +over a level course could have covered the same distance in half the +time, but it would have broken down after ten miles of that hard trail. + +Dawn came while they wound over the crest of the range, and with the sun +in their faces they took the downgrade. It was well into the morning +before Nash reached Logan. He forced from his eye the contempt which all +cattlemen feel for sheepherders. + +"I s'pose you're here askin' after Bard?" began Logan without the +slightest prelude. + +"Bard? Who's he?" + +Logan considered the other with a sardonic smile. + +"Maybe you been ridin' all night jest for fun?" + +"If you start usin' your tongue on me, Logan you'll wear out the snapper +on it. I'm on my way to the A Circle Y." + +"Listen; I'm all for old man Drew. You know that. Tell me what Bard has +on him?" + +"Never heard the name before. Did he rustle a couple of your sheep?" + +Logan went on patiently: "I knew something was wrong when Drew was here +yesterday but I didn't think it was as bad as this." + +"What did Drew do yesterday?" + +"Came up as usual to potter around the old house, I guess, but when he +heard about Bard bein' here he changed his mind sudden and went home." + +"That's damn queer. What sort of a lookin' feller is this Bard?" + +"I don't suppose you know, eh?" queried Logan ironically. "I don't +suppose the old man described him before you started, maybe?" + +"Logan, you poor old hornless maverick, d'you think I'm on somebody's +trail? Don't you know I've been through with that sort of game for a +hell of a while?" + +"When rocks turn into ham and eggs I'll trust you, Steve. I'll tell you +what I done to Bard, anyway. Yesterday, after he found that Drew had +been here and gone he seemed sort of upset; tried to keep it from me, +but I'm too much used to judgin' changes of weather to be fooled by any +tenderfoot that ever used school English. Then he hinted around about +learnin' the way to Eldara, because he knows that town is pretty close +to Drew's place, I guess. I told him; sure I did. He should of gone due +west, but I sent him south. There is a south trail, only it takes about +three days to get to Eldara." + +"Maybe you think that interests me. It don't." + +Logan overlooked this rejoinder, saying: "Is it his scalp you're after?" + +"Your ideas are like nest-eggs, Logan, an' you set over 'em like a hen. +They look like eggs; they feel like eggs; but they don't never hatch. +That's the way with your ideas. They look all right; they sound all +right; but they don't mean nothin'. So-long." + +But Logan merely chuckled wisely. He had been long on the range. + +As Nash turned his pony and trotted off in the direction of the A +Circle Y ranch, the sheepherder called after him: "What you say cuts +both ways, Steve. This feller Bard looks like a tenderfoot; he sounds +like a tenderfoot; but he ain't a tenderfoot." + +Feeling that this parting shot gave him the honours of the meeting, he +turned away whistling with such spirit that one of his dogs, +overhearing, stood still and gazed at his master with his head cocked +wisely to one side. + +His eastern course Nash pursued for a mile or more, and then swung sharp +to the south. He was weary, like his horse, and he made no attempt to +start a sudden burst of speed. He let the pony go on at the same +tireless jog, clinging like a bulldog to the trail. + +About midday he sighted a small house cuddled into a hollow of the hills +and made toward it. As he dismounted, a tow-headed, spindling boy +lounged out of the doorway and stood with his hands shoved carelessly +into his little overall pockets. + +"Hello, young feller." + +"'Lo, stranger." + +"What's the chance of bunking here for three or four hours and gettin' a +good feed for the hoss?" + +"Never better. Gimme the hoss; I'll put him up in the shed. Feed him +grain?" + +"No, you won't put him up. I'll tend to that." + +"Looks like a bad 'un." + +"That's it." + +"But a sure goer, eh?" + +"Yep." + +He led the pony to the shed, unsaddled him, and gave him a small feed. +The horse first rolled on the dirt floor and then started methodically +on his fodder. Having made sure that his mount was not "off his feed," +Nash rolled a cigarette and strolled back to the house with the boy. + +"Where's the folks?" he asked. + +"Ma's sick, a little, and didn't get up to-day. Pa's down to the corral, +cussing mad. But I can cook you up some chow." + +"All right son. I got a dollar here that'll buy you a pretty good store +knife." + +The boy flushed so red that by contrast his straw coloured hair seemed +positively white. + +"Maybe you want to pay me?" he suggested fiercely. "Maybe you think +we're squatters that run a hotel?" + +Recognizing the true Western breed even in this small edition, Nash +grinned. + +"Speakin' man to man, son, I didn't think that, but I thought I'd sort +of feel my way." + +"Which I'll say you're lucky you didn't try to feel your way with pa; +not the way he's feelin' now." + +In the shack of the house he placed the best chair for Nash and set +about frying ham and making coffee. This with crackers, formed the meal. +He watched Nash eat for a moment of solemn silence and then the foreman +looked up to catch a meditative chuckle from the youngster. + +"Let me in on the joke, son." + +"Nothin'. I was just thinkin' of pa." + +"What's he sore about? Come out short at poker lately?" + +"No; he lost a hoss. Ha, ha, ha!" + +He explained: "He's lost his only standin' joke, and now the laugh's on +pa!" + +Nash sipped his coffee and waited. On the mountain desert one does not +draw out a narrator with questions. + +"There was a feller come along early this mornin' on a lame hoss," the +story began. "He was a sure enough tenderfoot--leastways he looked it +an' he talked it, but he wasn't." + +The familiarity of this description made Steve sit up a trifle +straighter. + +"Was he a ringer?" + +"Maybe. I dunno. Pa meets him at the door and asks him in. What d'you +think this feller comes back with?" + +The boy paused to remember and then with twinkling eyes he mimicked: +"'That's very good of you, sir, but I'll only stop to make a trade with +you--this horse and some cash to boot for a durable mount out of your +corral. The brute has gone lame, you see.' + +"Pa waited and scratched his head while these here words sort of sunk +in. Then says very smooth: 'I'll let you take the best hoss I've got, +an' I won't ask much cash to boot.' + +"I begin wonderin' what pa was drivin' at, but I didn't say +nothin'--jest held myself together and waited. + +"'Look over there to the corral,' says pa, and pointed. 'They's a hoss +that ought to take you wherever you want to go. It's the best hoss I've +ever had.' + +"It was the best horse pa ever had, too. It was a piebald pinto called +Jo, after my cousin Josiah, who's jest a plain bad un and raises hell +when there's any excuse. The piebald, he didn't even need an excuse. You +see, he's one of them hosses that likes company. When he leaves the +corral he likes to have another hoss for a runnin' mate and he was jest +as tame as anything. I could ride him; anybody could ride him. But if +you took him outside the bars of the corral without company, first thing +he done was to see if one of the other hosses was comin' out to join +him. When he seen that he was all laid out to make a trip by himself he +jest nacherally started in to raise hell. Which Jo can raise more hell +for his size than any hoss I ever seen. + +"He's what you call an eddicated bucker. He don't fool around with no +pauses. He jest starts in and figgers out a situation and then he gets +busy slidin' the gent that's on him off'n the saddle. An' he always used +to win out. In fact, he was known for it all around these parts. He +begun nice and easy, but he worked up like a fiddler playin' a favourite +piece, and the end was the rider lyin' on the ground. + +"Whenever the boys around here wanted any excitement they used to come +over and try their hands with Jo. We used to keep a pile of arnica and +stuff like that around to rub them up with and tame down the bruises +after Jo laid 'em cold on the ground. There wasn't never anybody could +ride that hoss when he was started out alone. + +"Well, this tenderfoot, he looks over the hoss in the corral and says: +'That's a pretty fine mount, it seems to me. What do you want to boot?' + +"'Aw, twenty-five dollars is enough,' says pa. + +"'All right,' says the tenderfoot, 'here's the money.' + +"And he counts it out in pa's hand. + +"He says: 'What a little beauty! It would be a treat to see him work on +a polo field.' + +"Pa says: 'It'd'be a treat to see this hoss work anywhere.' + +"Then he steps on my foot to make me wipe the grin off'n my face. + +"Down goes the tenderfoot and takes his saddle and flops it on the +piebald pinto, and the piebald was jest as nice as milk. Then he leads +him out'n the corral and gets on. + +"First the pinto takes a look over his shoulder like he was waiting for +one of his pals among the hosses to come along, but he didn't see none. +Then the circus started. An' b'lieve me, it was some circus. Jo hadn't +had much action for some time, an' he must have used the wait thinkin' +up new ways of raisin' hell. + +"There ain't enough words in the Bible to describe what he done. Which +maybe you sort of gather that he had to keep on performin', because the +tenderfoot was still in the saddle. He was. An' he never pulled +leather. No, sir, he never touched the buckin' strap, but jest sat there +with his teeth set and his lips twistin' back--the same smile he had +when he got into the saddle. But pretty soon I s'pose Jo had a chance to +figure out that it didn't do him no particular harm to be alone. + +"The minute he seen that he stopped fightin' and started off at a gallop +the way the tenderfoot wanted him to go, which was over there. + +"'Damn my eyes!' says pa, an' couldn't do nuthin' but just stand there +repeatin' that with variations because with Jo gone there wouldn't be no +drawin' card to get the boys around the house no more. But you're +lookin' sort of sleepy, stranger?" + +"I am," answered Nash. + +"Well, if you'd seen that show you wouldn't be thinkin' of sleep. Not +for some time." + +"Maybe not, but the point is I didn't see it. D'you mind if I turn in on +that bunk over there?" + +"Help yourself," said the boy. "What time d'you want me to wake you up?" + +"Never mind; I wake up automatic. S'long, Bud." + +He stretched out on the blankets and was instantly asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +A TOUCH OF CRIMSON + +At the end of three hours he awoke as sharply as though an alarm were +clamouring at his ear. There was no elaborate preparation for renewed +activities. A single yawn and stretch and he was again on his feet. +Since the boy was not in sight he cooked himself an enormous meal, +devoured it, and went out to the mustang. + +The roan greeted him with a volley from both heels that narrowly missed +the head of Nash, but the cowpuncher merely smiled tolerantly. + +"Feelin' fit agin, eh, damn your soul?" he said genially, and picking up +a bit of board, fallen from the side of the shed, he smote the mustang +mightily along the ribs. The mustang, as if it recognized the touch of +the master, pricked up one ear and side-stepped. The brief rest had +filled it with all the old, vicious energy. + +For once more, as soon as they rode clear of the door, there ensued a +furious struggle between man and beast. The man won, as always, and the +roan, dropping both ears flat against its neck, trotted sullenly out +across the hills. + +In that monotony of landscape, one mile exactly like the other, no +landmarks to guide him, no trail to follow, however faintly worn, it was +strange to see the cowpuncher strike out through the vast distances of +the mountain-desert with as much confidence as if he were travelling on +a paved street in a city. He had not even a compass to direct him but he +seemed to know his way as surely as the birds know the untracked paths +of the air in the seasons of migration. + +Straight on through the afternoon and during the long evening he kept +his course at the same unvarying dog-trot until the flush of the sunset +faded to a stern grey and the purple hills in the distance turned blue +with shadows. Then, catching the glimmer of a light on a hillside, he +turned toward it to put up for the night. + +In answer to his call a big man with a lantern came to the door and +raised his light until it shone on a red, bald head and a portly figure. +His welcome was neither hearty nor cold; hospitality is expected in the +mountain-desert. So Nash put up his horse in the shed and came back to +the house. + +The meal was half over, but two girls immediately set a plate heaped +with fried potatoes and bacon and flanked by a mighty cup of jetblack +coffee on one side and a pile of yellow biscuits on the other. He nodded +to them, grunted by way of expressing thanks, and sat down to eat. + +Beside the tall father and the rosy-faced mother, the family consisted +of the two girls, one of them with her hair twisted severely close to +her head, wearing a man's blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up +to a pair of brown elbows. Evidently she was the boy of the family and +to her fell the duty of performing the innumerable chores of the ranch, +for her hands were thick with work and the tips of the fingers blunted. +Also she had that calm, self-satisfied eye which belongs to the +workingman who knows that he has earned his meal. + +Her sister monopolized all the beauty and the grace, not that she was +either very pretty or extremely graceful, but she was instinct with the +challenge of femininity like a rare scent. It lingered about her, it +enveloped her ways; it gave a light to her eyes and made her smile +exquisite. Her clothes were not of much finer material than her +sister's, but they were cut to fit, and a bow of crimson ribbon at her +throat was as effective in that environment as the most costly orchids +on an evening gown. + +She was armed in pride this night, talking only to her mother, and then +in monosyllables alone. At first it occurred to Steve that his coming +had made her self-conscious, but he soon discovered that her pride was +directed at the third man at the table. She at least maintained a +pretence of eating, but he made not even a sham, sitting miserably, his +mouth hard set, his eyes shadowed by a tremendous frown. At length he +shoved back his chair with such violence that the table trembled. + +"Well," he rumbled, "I guess this lets me out. S'long." + +And he strode heavily from the room; a moment later his cursing came +back to them as he rode into the night. + +"Takes it kind of hard, don't he?" said the father. + +And the mother murmured: "Poor Ralph!" + +"So you went an' done it?" said the mannish girl to her sister. + +"What of it?" snapped the other. + +"He's too good for you, that's what of it." + +"Girls!" exclaimed the mother anxiously. "Remember we got a guest!" + +"Oh," said she of the strong brown arms, "I guess we can't tell him +nothin'; I guess he had eyes to be seein' what's happened." She turned +calmly to Steve. + +"Lizzie turned down Ralph Boardman--poor feller!" + +"Sue!" cried the other girl. + +"Well, after you done it, are you ashamed to have it talked about? You +make me sore, I'll tell a man!" + +"That's enough, Sue," growled the father. + +"What's enough?" + +"We ain't goin' to have no more show about this. I've had my supper +spoiled by it already." + +"I say it's a rotten shame," broke out Sue, and she repeated, "Ralph's +too good for her. All because of a city dude--a tenderfoot!" + +In the extremity of her scorn her voice drawled in a harsh murmur. + +"Then take him yourself, if you can get him!" cried Lizzie. "I'm sure I +don't want him!" + +Their eyes blazed at each other across the table, and Lizzie, having +scored an unexpected point, struck again. + +"I think you've always had a sort of hankerin' after Ralph--oh, I've +seen your eyes rollin' at him." + +The other girl coloured hotly through her tan. + +"If I was fond of him I wouldn't be ashamed to let him know, you can +tell the world that. And I wouldn't keep him trottin' about like a +little pet dog till I got tired of him and give him up for the sake of a +greenhorn who"--her voice lowered to a spiteful hiss--"kissed you the +first time he even seen you!" + +In vain Lizzie fought for her control; her lip trembled and her voice +shook. + +"I hate you, Sue!" + +"Sue, ain't you ashamed of yourself?" pleaded the mother. + +"No, I ain't! Think of it; here's Ralph been sweet on Liz for two years +an' now she gives him the go-by for a skinny, affected dude like that +feller that was here. And he's forgot you already, Liz, the minute he +stopped laughing at you for bein' so easy." + +"Ma, are you goin' to let Sue talk like this--right before a stranger?" + +"Sue, you shut up!" commanded the father. + +"I don't see nobody that can make me," she said, surly as a grown boy. +"I can't make any more of a fool out of Liz than that tenderfoot made +her!" + +"Did he," asked Steve, "ride a piebald mustang?" + +"D'you know him?" breathed Lizzie, forgetting the tears of shame which +had been gathering in her eyes. + +"Nope. Jest heard a little about him along the road." + +"What's his name?" + +Then she coloured, even before Sue could say spitefully: "Didn't he even +have to tell you his name before he kissed you?" + +"He did! His name is--Tony!" + +"Tony!"--in deep disgust. "Well, he's dark enough to be a dago! Maybe +he's a foreign count, or something, Liz, and he'll take you back to live +in some castle or other." + +But the girl queried, in spite of this badinage: "Do you know his name?" + +"His name," said Nash, thinking that it could do no harm to betray as +much as this, "is Anthony Bard, I think." + +"And you don't know him?" + +"All I know is that the feller who used to own that piebald mustang is +pretty mad and cusses every time he thinks of him." + +"He didn't steal the hoss?" + +This with more bated breath than if the question had been: "He didn't +kill a man?" for indeed horse-stealing was the greater crime. + +Even Nash would not make such an accusation directly, and therefore he +fell back on an innuendo almost as deadly. + +"I dunno," he said non-committally, and shrugged his shoulders. + +With all his soul he was concentrating on the picture of the man who +conquered a fighting horse and flirted successfully with a pretty girl +the same day; each time riding on swiftly from his conquest. The clues +on this trail were surely thick enough, but they were of such a nature +that the pleasant mind of Steve grew more and more thoughtful. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +LEMONADE + +In fact, so thoughtful had Nash become, that he slept with extraordinary +lightness that night and was up at the first hint of day. Sue appeared +on the scene just in time to witness the last act of the usual drama of +bucking on the part of the roan, before it settled down to the +mechanical dog-trot with which it would wear out the ceaseless miles of +the mountain-desert all day and far into the night, if need be. + +Nash now swung more to the right, cutting across the hills, for he +presumed that by this time the tenderfoot must have gotten his bearings +and would head straight for Eldara. It was a stiff two day journey, now, +the whole first day's riding having been a worse than useless detour; so +the bulldog jaw set harder and harder, and the keen eyes squinted as if +to look into the dim future. + +Once each day, about noon, when the heat made even the desert and the +men of the desert drowsy, he allowed his imagination to roam freely, +counting the thousand dollars over and over again, and tasting again the +joys of a double salary. Yet even his hardy imagination rarely rose to +the height of Sally Fortune. That hour of dreaming, however, made the +day of labour almost pleasant. + +This time, in the very middle of his dream, he reached the cross-roads +saloon and general merchandise store of Flanders; so he banished his +visions with a compelling shrug of the shoulders and rode for it at a +gallop, a hot dryness growing in his throat at every stride. Quick +service he was sure to get, for there were not more than half a dozen +cattle-ponies standing in front of the little building with its rickety +walls guiltless of paint save for the one great sign inscribed with +uncertain letters. + +He swung from the saddle, tossed the reins over the head of the mustang, +made a stride forward--and then checked himself with a soft curse and +reached for his gun. + +For the door of the bar dashed open and down the steps rushed a tall man +with light yellow moustache, so long that it literally blew on either +side over his shoulders as he ran; in either hand he carried a +revolver---a two-gun man, fleeing, perhaps, from another murder. + +For Nash recognized in him a character notorious through a thousand +miles of the range, Sandy Ferguson, nicknamed by the colour of that +famous moustache, which was envied and dreaded so far and so wide. It +was not fear that made Nash halt, for otherwise he would have finished +the motion and whipped out his gun; but at least it was something +closely akin to fear. + +For that matter, there were unmistakable signs in Sandy himself of what +would have been called arrant terror in any other man. His face was so +bloodless that the pallor showed even through the leathery tan; one eye +stared wildly, the other being sheltered under a clumsy patch which +could not quite conceal the ugly bruise beneath. Under his great +moustache his lips were as puffed and swollen as the lips of a negro. + +Staggering in his haste, he whirled a few paces from the house and +turned, his guns levelled. At the same moment the door opened and the +perspiring figure of little fat Flanders appeared. Scorn and anger +rather than hate or any bloodlust appeared in his face. His right arm, +hanging loosely at his side, held a revolver, and he seemed to have the +greatest unconcern for the levelled weapons of the gunman. + +He made a gesture with that armed hand, and Sandy winced as though a +whiplash had flicked him. + +"Steady up, damn your eyes!" bellowed Flanders, "and put them guns away. +Put 'em up; hear me?" + +To the mortal astonishment of Nash, Sandy obeyed, keeping the while a +fascinated eye upon the little Dutchman. + +"Now climb your hoss and beat it, and if I ever find you in reach again, +I'll send my kid out to rope you and give you a hoss-whippin'." + +The gun fighter lost no time. A single leap carried him into his saddle +and he was off over the sand with a sharp rattle of the beating hoofs. + +"Well," breathed Nash, "I'll be hanged." + +"Sure you will," suggested Flanders, at once changing his frown for a +smile of somewhat professional good nature, as one who greeted an old +customer, "sure you will unless you come in an' have a drink on the +house. I want something myself to forget what I been doin'. I feel like +the dog-catcher." + +Steve, deeply meditative, strode into the room. + +"Partner," he said gravely to Flanders, "I've always prided myself on +having eyes a little better than the next one, but just now I guess I +must of been seein' double. Seemed to me that that was Sandy Ferguson +that you hot-footed out of that door--or has Sandy got a double?" + +"Nope," said the bartender, wiping the last of the perspiration from his +forehead, "that's Sandy, all right." + +"Then gimme a big drink. I need it." + +The bottle spun expertly across the bar, and the glasses tinkled after. + +"Funny about him, all right," nodded Flanders, "but then it's happened +the same way with others I could tell about. As long as he was winnin' +Sandy was the king of any roost. The minute he lost a fight he wasn't +worth so many pounds of salt pork. Take a hoss; a fine hoss is often +jest the same. Long as it wins nothin' can touch some of them blooded +boys. But let 'em go under the wire second, maybe jest because they's +packing twenty pounds too much weight, and they're never any good any +more. Any second-rater can lick 'em. I lost five hundred iron boys on a +hoss that laid down like that." + +"All of which means," suggested Nash, "that Sandy has been licked?" + +"Licked? No, he ain't been licked, but he's been plumb annihilated, +washed off the map, cleaned out, faded, rubbed into the dirt; if there +was some stronger way of puttin' it, I would. Only last night, at that, +but now look at him. A girl that never seen a man before could tell that +he wasn't any more dangerous now than if he was made of putty; but if +the fool keeps packin' them guns he's sure to get into trouble." + +He raised his glass. + +"So here's to the man that Sandy was and ain't no more." + +They drank solemnly. + +"Maybe you took the fall out of him yourself, Flanders?" + +"Nope. I ain't no fighter, Steve. You know that. The feller that downed +Sandy was--a tenderfoot. Yep, a greenhorn." + +"Ah-h-h," drawled Nash softly, "I thought so." + +"You did?" + +"Anyway, let's hear the story. Another drink--on me, Flanders." + +"It was like this. Along about evening of yesterday Sandy was in here +with a couple of other boys. He was pretty well lighted--the glow was +circulatin' promiscuous, in fact--when in comes a feller about your +height, Steve, but lighter. Goodlookin', thin face, big dark eyes like a +girl. He carried the signs of a long ride on him. Well, sir, he walks up +to the bar and says: 'Can you make me a very sour lemonade, Mr. +Bartender?' + +"I grabbed the edge of the bar and hung tight. + +"'A which?' says I. + +"'Lemonade, if you please.' + +"I rolled an eye at Sandy, who was standin' there with his jaw falling, +and then I got busy with lemons and the squeezer, but pretty soon +Ferguson walks up to the stranger. + +"'Are you English?' he asks. + +"I knew by his tone what was comin', so I slid the gun I keep behind the +bar closer and got prepared for a lot of damaged crockery. + +"'I?' says the tenderfoot. 'Why, no. What makes you ask?' + +"'Your damned funny way of talkin',' says Sandy. + +"'Oh,' says the greenhorn, nodding as if he was thinkin' this over and +discovering a little truth in it. 'I suppose the way I talk is a little +unusual.' + +"'A little rotten,' says Sandy. 'Did I hear you askin' for a lemonade?' + +"'You did.' + +"'Would I seem to be askin' too many questions,' says Sandy, terrible +polite, 'if I inquires if bar whisky ain't good enough for you?' + +"The tenderfoot, he stands there jest as easy as you an' me stand here +now, and he laughed. + +"He says: 'The bar whisky I've tasted around this country is not very +good for any one, unless, perhaps, after a snake has bitten you. Then it +works on the principle of poison fight poison, eh?' + +"Sandy says after a minute: 'I'm the most quietest, gentle, innercent +cowpuncher that ever rode the range, but I'd tell a man that it riles me +to hear good bar whisky insulted like this. Look at me! Do I look as if +whisky ain't good for a man?' + +"'Why,' says the tenderfoot, 'you look sort of funny to me.' + +"He said it as easy as if he was passin' the morning with Ferguson, but +I seen that it was the last straw with Sandy. He hefted out both guns +and trained 'em on the greenhorn. + +"I yelled: 'Sandy, for God's sake, don't be killin' a tenderfoot!' + +"'If whisky will kill him he's goin' to die,' says Sandy. 'Flanders, +pour out a drink of rye for this gent.' + +"I did it, though my hand was shaking a lot, and the chap takes the +glass and raises it polite, and looks at the colour of it. I thought he +was goin' to drink, and starts wipin' the sweat off'n my forehead. + +"But this chap, he sets down the glass and smiles over to Sandy. + +"'Listen,' he says, still grinnin', 'in the old days I suppose this +would have been a pretty bluff, but it won't work with me now. You want +me to drink this glass of very bad whisky, but I'm sure that you don't +want it badly enough to shoot me. + +"'There are many reasons. In the old days a man shot down another and +then rode off on his horse and was forgotten, but in these days the +telegraph is faster than any horse that was ever foaled. They'd be sure +to get you, sir, though you might dodge them for a while. And I believe +that for a crime such as you threaten, they have recently installed a +little electric chair which is a perfectly good inducer of sleep--in +fact, it is better than a cradle. Taking these things all into +consideration, I take it for granted that you are bluffing, my friend, +and one of my favourite occupations is calling a bluff. You look +dangerous, but I've an idea that you are as yellow as your moustache.' + +"Sandy, he sort of swelled up all over like a poisoned dog. + +"He says: 'I begin to see your style. You want a clean man-handlin', +which suits me uncommon well.' + +"With that, he lays down his guns, soft and careful, and puts up his +fists, and goes for the other gent. + +"He makes his pass, which should have sent the other gent into kingdom +come. But it didn't. No, sir, the tenderfoot, he seemed to evaporate. He +wasn't there when the fist of Ferguson come along. Ferguson, he checked +up short and wheeled around and charged again like a bull. And he missed +again. And so they kept on playin' a sort of a game of tag over the +place, the stranger jest side-steppin' like a prize-fighter, the +prettiest you ever seen, and not developin' when Sandy started on one of +his swings. + +"At last one of Sandy's fists grazed him on the shoulder and sort of +peeved him, it looked like. He ducks under Sandy's next punch, steps in, +and wallops Sandy over the eye--that punch didn't travel more'n six +inches. But it slammed Sandy down in a corner like he's been shot. + +"He was too surprised to be much hurt, though, and drags himself up to +his feet, makin' a pass at his pocket at the same time. Then he came +again, silent and thinkin' of blood, I s'pose, with a knife in his hand. + +"This time the tenderfoot didn't wait. He went in with a sort of hitch +step, like a dancer. Ferguson's knife carved the air beside the +tenderfoot's head, and then the skinny boy jerked up his right and his +left--one, two--into Sandy's mouth. Down he goes again--slumps down as +if all the bones in his body was busted--right down on his face. The +other feller grabs his shoulder and jerks him over on his back. + +"He stands lookin' down at him for a moment, and then he says, sort of +thoughtful: 'He isn't badly hurt, but I suppose I shouldn't have hit him +twice.' + +"Can you beat that, Steve? You can't! + +"When Sandy come to he got up to his feet, wobbling--seen his guns--went +over and scooped 'em up, with the eye of the tenderfoot on him all the +time--scooped 'em up--stood with 'em all poised--and so he backed out +through the door. It wasn't any pretty thing to see. The tenderfoot, he +turned to the bar again. + +"'If you don't mind,' he says, 'I think I'll switch my order and take +that whisky instead. I seem to need it.' + +"'Son!' says I, 'there ain't nothin' in the house you can't have for the +askin'. Try some of this!' + +"And I pulled out a bottle of my private stock--you know the stuff; I've +had it twenty-five years, and it was ten years old when I got it. That +ain't as much of a lie as it sounds. + +"He takes a glass of it and sips it, sort of suspicious, like a wolf +scentin' the wind for an elk in winter. Then his face lighted up like a +lantern had been flashed on it. You'd of thought that he was lookin' his +long-lost brother in the eye from the way he smiled at me. He holds the +glass up and lets the light come through it, showin' the little traces +and bubbles of oil. + +"'May I know your name?' he says. + +"It made me feel like Rockerbilt, hearin' him say that, in _that_ +special voice. + +"'Me,' says I, 'I'm Flanders.' + +"'It's an honour to know you, Mr. Flanders,' he says. 'My name is +Anthony Bard.' + +"We shook hands, and his grip was three fourths man, I'll tell the +world. + +"'Good liquor,' says he, 'is like a fine lady. Only a gentleman can +appreciate it. I drink to you, sir.' + +"So that's how Sandy Ferguson went under the sod. To-day? Well, I +couldn't let Ferguson stand in a barroom where a gentleman had been, +could I?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +THE DARKNESS IN ELDARA + +Even the stout roan grew weary during the third day, and when they +topped the last rise of hills, and looked down to darker shadows in +Eldara in the black heart of the hollow, the mustang stood with hanging +head, and one ear flopped forward. Cruel indeed had been the pace which +Nash maintained, yet they had never been able to overhaul the flying +piebald of Anthony Bard. + +As they trotted down the slope, Nash looked to his equipment, handled +his revolver, felt the strands of the lariat, and resting only his toes +in the stirrups, eased all his muscles to make sure that they were +uncramped from the long journey. He was fit; there was no doubt of that. + +Coming down the main street--for Eldara boasted no fewer than three +thoroughfares--the first houses which Nash passed showed no lights. As +far as he could see, the blinds were all drawn; not even the glimmer of +a candle showed, and the voices which he heard were muffled and low. + +He thought of plague or some other disaster which might have overtaken +the little village and wiped out nine tenths of the populace in a day. +Only such a thing could account for silence in Eldara. There should have +been bursts and roars of laughter here and there, and now and then a +harsh stream of cursing. There should have been clatter of kitchen tins; +there should have been neighing of horses; there should have been the +quiver and tingle of children's voices at play in the dusty streets. But +there was none of this. The silence was as thick and oppressive as the +unbroken dark of the night. Even Butler's saloon was closed! + +This, however, was something which he would not believe, no matter what +testimony his eyes gave him. He rode up to a shuttered window and kicked +it with his heel. + +Only the echoes of that racket replied to him from the interior of the +place. He swore, somewhat touched with awe, and kicked again. + +A faint voice called: "Who's there?" + +"Steve Nash. What the devil's happened to Eldara?" + +The boards of the shutter stirred, opened, so that the man within could +look out. + +"Is it Steve, honest?" + +"Damn it, Butler, don't you know my voice? What's turned Eldara into a +cemetery?" + +"Cemetery's right. 'Butch' Conklin and his gang are going to raid the +place to-night." + +"Butch Conklin?" + +And Nash whistled long and low. + +"But why the devil don't the boys get together if they know Butch is +coming with his gunmen?" + +"That's what they've done. Every able-bodied man in town is out in the +hills trying to surprise Conklin's gang before they hit town with their +guns going." + +Butler was a one-legged man, so Nash kept back the question which +naturally formed in his mind. + +"How do they know Conklin is coming? Who gave the tip?" + +"Conklin himself." + +"What? Has he been in town?" + +"Right. Came in roaring drunk." + +"Why'd they let him get away again?" + +"Because the sheriff's a bonehead and because our marshal is solid +ivory. That's why." + +"What happened?" + +"Butch came in drunk, as I was saying, which he generally is, but he +wasn't giving no trouble at all, and nobody felt particular called on to +cross him and ask questions. He was real sociable, in fact, and that's +how the mess was started." + +"Go on. I don't get your drift." + +"Everybody was treatin' Butch like he was the king of the earth and not +passin' out any backtalk, all except one tenderfoot----" + +But here a stream of tremendous profanity burst from Nash. It rose, it +rushed on, it seemed an exhaustless vocabulary built up by long practice +on mustangs and cattle. + +At length: "Is that damned fool in Eldara?" + +"D'you know him?" + +"No. Anyway, go on. What happened?" + +"I was sayin' that Butch was feelin' pretty sociable. It went all right +in the bars. He was in here and didn't do nothin' wrong. Even paid for +all the drinks for everybody in the house, which nobody could ask more +even from a white man. But then Butch got hungry and went up the street +to Sally Fortune's place." + +A snarl came from Nash. + +"Did they let that swine go in there?" + +"Who'd stop him? Would you?" + +"I'd try my damnedest." + +"Anyway, in he went and got the centre table and called for ten dollars' +worth of bacon and eggs--which there hasn't been an egg in Eldara this +week. Sally, she told him, not being afraid even of Butch. He got pretty +sore at that and said that it was a frame-up and everyone was ag'in' +him. But finally he allowed that if she'd sit down to the table and keep +him company he'd manage to make out on whatever her cook had ready to +eat." + +"And Sally done it?" groaned Nash. + +"Sure; it was like a dare--and you know Sally. She'd risk her whole +place any time for the sake of a bet." + +"I know it, but don't rub it in." + +"She fetched out a steak and served Butch as if he'd been a king and +then sat down beside him and started kiddin' him along, with all the +gang of us sittin' or standin' around and laughin' fit to bust, but not +loud for fear Butch would get annoyed. + +"Then two things come in together and spoiled the prettiest little party +that was ever started in Eldara. First was that player piano which Sally +got shipped in and paid God-knows-how-much for; the second was this +greenhorn I was tellin' you about." + +"Go on," said Nash, the little snarl coming back in his voice. "Tell me +how the tenderfoot walked up and kicked Butch out of the place." + +"Somebody been tellin' you?" + +"No; I just been readin' the mind of Eldara." + +"It was a nice play, though. This Bard--we found out later that was his +name--walks in, takes a table, and not being served none too quick, he +walks over and slips a nickel in the slot of the piano. Out she starts +with a piece of rippin' ragtime--you know how loud it plays? Butch, he +kept on talkin' for a minute, but couldn't hear himself think. Finally +he bellers: 'Who turned that damned tin-pan loose?' + +"This Bard walks up and bows. He says: 'Sir, I came here to find food, +and since I can't get service, I'll take music as a substitute.' + +"Them was the words he used, Steve, honest to God. Used them to Butch! + +"Well, Conklin was too flabbergasted to budge, and Bard, he leaned over +and says to Sally: 'This floor is fairly smooth. Suppose you and I dance +till I get a chance to eat?' + +"We didn't know whether to laugh or to cheer, but most of us compromised +by keeping an eye on Butch's gun. + +"Sally says, 'Sure I'll dance,' and gets up. + +"'Wait!' hollers Butch; 'are you leavin' me for this wall-eyed galoot?' + +"There ain't nothin' Sally loves more'n a fight--we all know that. But +this time I guess she took pity on the poor tenderfoot, or maybe she +jest didn't want to get her floor all messed up. + +"'Keep your hat on, Butch,' she says, 'all I want to do is to give him +some motherly advice.' + +"'If you're acting that part,' says Bard, calm as you please, 'I've got +to tell mother that she's been keeping some pretty bad company.' + +"'Some what?' bellers Butch, not believin' his ears. + +"And young Bard, he steps around the girl and stands over Butch. + +"'Bad company is what I said,' he repeats, 'but maybe I can be +convinced.' + +"'Easy,' says Butch, and reaches for his gun. + +"We all dived for the door, but me being held up on account of my +missing leg, I was slow an' couldn't help seein' what happened. Butch +was fast, but the young feller was faster. He had Butch by the wrist +before the gun came clear--just gave a little twist--and there he stood +with the gun in his hand pointin' into Butch's face, and Butch sittin' +there like a feller in a trance or wakin' up out of a bad dream. + +"Then he gets up, slow and dignified, though he had enough liquor in him +to float a ship. + +"'I been mobbed,' he says, 'it's easy to see that. I come here peaceful +and quiet, and here I been mobbed. But I'm comin' back, boys, and I +ain't comin' alone.' + +"There was our chance to get him, while he was walking out of that place +without a gun, but somehow nobody moved for him. He didn't look none too +easy, even without his shootin' irons. Out he goes into the night, and +we stood around starin' at each other. Everybody was upset, except Sally +and Bard. + +"He says: 'Miss Fortune, this is our dance, I think.' + +"'Excuse me,' says Sally, 'I almost forgot about it.' + +"And they started to dance to the piano, waltzin' around among the +tables; the rest of us lit out for home because we knew that Butch would +be on his way with his gang before we got very far under cover. But hey, +Steve, where you goin'?" + +"I'm going to get in on that dance," called Nash, and was gone at a +racing gallop down the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +BLUFF + +He found no dance in progress, however, but in the otherwise empty +eating place, which Sally owned and ran with her two capable hands and +the assistance of a cook, sat Sally herself dining at the same table +with the tenderfoot, the flirt, the horse-breaker, the tamer of +gun-fighters. + +Nash stood in the shadow of the doorway watching that lean, handsome +face with the suggestion of mockery in the eyes and the trace of +sternness around the thin lips. Not a formidable figure by any means, +but since his experiences of the past few days, Nash was grown extremely +thoughtful. + +What he finally thought he caught in this most unusual tenderfoot was a +certain alertness of a more or less hair-trigger variety. Even now as he +sat at ease at the table, one elbow resting lightly upon it, apparently +enwrapped in the converse of Sally Fortune, Nash had a consciousness +that the other might be on his feet and in the most distant part of the +room within a second. + +What he noted in the second instant of his observation was that Sally +was not at all loath to waste her time on the stranger. She was eating +with a truly formidable conventionality of manner, and a certain grace +with which she raised the ponderous coffee cup, made of crockery +guaranteed to resist all falls, struck awe through the heart of the +cowpuncher. She was bent on another conquest, beyond all doubt, and that +she would not make it never entered the thoughts of Nash. He set his +face to banish a natural scowl and advanced with a good-natured smile +into the room. + +"Hello!" he called. + +"It's old Steve!" sang out Sally, and whirling from her chair, she +advanced almost at a run to meet him, caught him by both hands, and led +him to a table next to that at which she had been sitting. + +It was as gracefully done as if she had been welcoming a brother, but +Nash, knowing Sally, understood perfectly that it was only a play to +impress the eye of Bard. Nevertheless he was forced to accept it in good +part. + +"My old pal, Steve Nash," said Sally, "and this is Mr. Anthony Bard." + +Just the faintest accent fell on the "Mr.," but it made Steve wince. He +rose and shook hands gravely with the tenderfoot. + +"I stopped at Butler's place down the street," he said, "and been +hearin' a pile about a little play you made a while ago. It was about +time for somebody to call old Butch's bluff." + +"Bluff?" cried Sally indignantly. + +"Bluff?" queried Bard, with a slight raising of the eyebrows. + +"Sure--bluff. Butch wasn't any more dangerous than a cat with trimmed +claws. But I guess you seen that?" + +He settled down easily in his chair just as Sally resumed her place +opposite Bard. + +"Steve," she said, with a quiet venom, "that bluff of his has been as +good as four-of-a-kind with you for a long time. I never seen you make +any play at Butch." + +He returned amiably: "Like to sit here and have a nice social chat, +Sally, but I got to be gettin' back to the ranch, and in the meantime, +I'm sure hungry." + +At the reminder of business a green light came in the fine blue eyes of +Sally. They were her only really fine features, for the nose tilted an +engaging trifle, the mouth was a little too generous, the chin so strong +that it gave, in moments of passivity, an air of sternness to her face. +That sternness was exaggerated as she rose, keeping her glare fixed upon +Nash; a thing impossible for him to bear, so he lowered his eyes and +engaged in rolling a cigarette. She turned back toward Bard. + +"Sorry I got to go--before I finished eating--but business is business." + +"And sometimes," suggested Bard, "a bore." + +It was an excellent opening for a quarrel, but Nash was remembering +religiously a certain thousand dollars, and also a gesture of William +Drew when he seemed to be breaking an imaginary twig. So he merely +lighted his cigarette and seemed to have heard nothing. + +"The whole town," he remarked casually, "seems scared stiff by this +Butch; but of course he ain't comin' back to-night." + +"I suppose," said the tenderfoot, after a cold pause, "that he will +not." + +But the coldness reacted like the most genial warmth upon Nash. He had +chosen a part detestable to him but necessary to his business. He must +be a "gabber" for the nonce, a free talker, a chatterer, who would cover +up all pauses. + +"Kind of strange to ride into a dark town like this," he began, "but I +could tell you a story about--" + +"Oh, Steve," called the voice of Sally from the kitchen. + +He rose and nodded to Bard. + +"'Scuse me, I'll be back in a minute." + +"Thanks," answered the other, with a somewhat grim emphasis. + +In the kitchen Sally spoke without prelude. "What deviltry are you up to +now, Steve?" + +"Me?" he repeated with eyes widened by innocence. "What d'you mean, +Sally?" + +"Don't four-flush me, Steve." + +"Is eating in your place deviltry?" + +"Am I blind?" she answered hotly. "Have I got spring-halt, maybe? You're +too polite, Steve; I can always tell when you're on the way to a little +bell of your own making, by the way you get sort of kind and warmed up. +What is it now?" + +"Kiss me, Sally, and I'll tell you why I came to town." + +She said with a touch of colour: "I'll see you--" and then changing +quickly, she slipped inside his ready arms with a smile and tilted up +her face. + +"Now what is it, Steve?" + +"This," he answered. + +"What d'you mean?" + +"You know me, Sally. I've worn out the other ways of raising hell, so I +thought I'd start a little by coming to Eldara to kiss you." + +Her open hand cracked sharply twice on his lean face and she was out of +his arms. He followed, laughing, but she armed herself with a red-hot +frying pan and defied him. + +"You ain't even a good sport, Steve. I'm done with you! Kiss you?" + +He said calmly: "I see the hell is startin', all right." + +But she changed at once, and smiled up to him. + +"I can't stay mad at you, Steve. I s'pose it's because of your nerve. I +want you to do something for me." + +"What?" + +"Is that a way to take it! I've asked you a favour, Steve." + +He said suspiciously: "It's got something to do with the tenderfoot in +the room out there?" + +It was a palpable hit, for she coloured sharply. Then she took the bull +by the horns. + +"What if it is?" + +"Sally, d'you mean to say you've fallen for that cheap line of lingo he +passes out?" + +"Steve, don't try to kid me." + +"Why, you know who he is, don't you?" + +"Sure; Anthony Bard." + +"And do you know who Anthony Bard is?" + +"Well?" she asked with some anxiety. + +"Well, if you don't know you can find out. That's what the last girl +done." + +She wavered, and then blinked her eyes as if she were resolved to shut +out the truth. + +"I asked you to do me a favour, Steve." + +"And I will. You know that." + +"I want you to see that Bard gets safe out of this town." + +"Sure. Nothing I'd rather do." + +She tilted her head a little to one side and regarded him wistfully. + +"Are you double-crossin' me, Steve?" + +"Why d'you suspect me? Haven't I said I'd do it?" + +"But you said it too easy." + +The gentleness died in her face. She said sternly: "If you do +double-cross me, you'll find I'm about as hard as any man on the range. +Get me?" + +"Shake." + +Their hands met. After all, he did not guarantee what would happen to +the tenderfoot after they were clear of the town. But perhaps this was a +distinction a little too fine for the downright mind of the girl. A sea +of troubles besieged the mind of Nash. + +And to let that sea subside he wandered back to the eating room and +found the tenderfoot finishing his coffee. The latter kept an eye of +frank suspicion upon him. So the silence held for a brooding moment, +until Bard asked: "D'you know the way to the ranch of William Drew?" + +It was a puzzler to Nash. Was not that his job, to go out and bring the +man to Drew's place? Here he was already on the way. He remembered just +in time that the manner of bringing was decidedly qualified. + +He said aloud: "The way? Sure; I work on Drew's place." + +"Really!" + +"Yep; foreman." + +"You don't happen to be going back that way to-night?" + +"Not all the way; part of it." + +"Mind if I went along?" + +"Nobody to keep you from it," said the cowpuncher without enthusiasm. + +"By the way, what sort of a man is Drew?" + +"Don't you know him?" + +"No. The reason I want to see him is because I want to get the right to +do some--er--fishing and hunting on a place of his on the other side of +the range." + +"The place with the old house on it; the place Logan is?" + +"Exactly. Also I wish to see Logan again. I've got several little things +I'd like to have him explain." + +"H-m!" grunted Nash without apparent interest. + +"And Drew?" + +"He's a big feller; big and grey." + +"Ah-h-h," said the other, and drew in his breath, as though he were +drinking. + +It seemed to Nash that he had never seen such an unpleasant smile. + +"You'll get what you want out of Drew. He's generous." + +"I hope so," nodded the other, with far-off eyes. "I've got a lot to ask +of him." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +BUTCH RETURNS + +He reminded Nash of some big puma cub warming itself at a hearth like a +common tabby cat, a tame puma thrusting out its claws and turning its +yellow eyes up to its owner--tame, but with infinite possibilities of +danger. For the information which Nash had given seemed to remove all +his distrust of the moment before and he became instantly genial, +pleasant. In fact, he voiced this sentiment with a disarming frankness +immediately. + +"Perhaps I've seemed to be carrying a chip on my shoulder, Mr. Nash. You +see, I'm not long in the West, and the people I've met seem to be ready +to fight first and ask questions afterward. So I've caught the habit, I +suppose." + +"Which a habit like that ain't uncommon. The graveyards are full of +fellers that had that habit and they're going to be fuller still of the +same kind." + +Here Sally entered, carrying the meal of the cowpuncher, arranged it, +and then sat on the edge of Bard's table, turning from one to the other +as a bird on a spray of leaves turns from sunlight to shadow and cannot +make a choice. + +"Bard," stated Nash, "is going out to the ranch with me to-night." + +"Long ride for to-night, isn't it?" + +"Yes, but we'll bunk on the way and finish up early in the morning." + +"Then you'll have a chance to teach him Western manners on the way, +Steve." + +"Manners?" queried the Easterner, smiling up to the girl. + +She turned, caught him beneath the chin with one hand, tilting his face, +and raised the lessoning forefinger of the other while she stared down +at him with a half frown and a half smile like a schoolteacher about to +discipline a recalcitrant boy. + +"Western manners," she said, "mean first not to doubt a man till he +tries to double-cross you, and not to trust him till he saves your life; +to keep your gun inside the leather till you're backed up against the +wall, and then to start shootin' as soon as the muzzle is past the +holster. Then the thing to remember is that the fast shootin' is fine, +but sure shootin' is a lot better. D'you get me?" + +"That's a fine sermon," smiled Bard, "but you're too young to make a +convincing preacher, Miss Fortune." + +"Misfortune," said the girl quickly, "don't have to be old to do a lot +of teachin'." + +She sat back and regarded him with something of a frown and with folded +arms. + +He said with a sudden earnestness: "You seem to take it for granted that +I'm due for a lot of trouble." + +But she shook her head gloomily. + +"I know what you're due for; I can see it in your eyes; I can hear it in +your way of talkin'. If you was to ride the range with a sheriff on one +side of you and a marshal on the other you couldn't help fallin' into +trouble." + +"As a fortune-teller," remarked Nash, "you'd make a good undertaker, +Sally." + +"Shut up, Steve. I've seen this bird in action and I know what I'm +talking about. When you coming back this way, Bard?" + +He said thoughtfully: "Perhaps to-morrow night--perhaps--" + +"It ought to be to-morrow night," she said pointedly, her eyes on Nash. + +The latter had pushed his chair back a trifle and sat now with downward +head and his right hand resting lightly on his thigh. Only the place in +which they sat was illumined by the two lamps, and the forward part of +the room, nearer the street, was a sea of shadows, wavering when the +wind stirred the flame in one of the lamps or sent it smoking up the +chimney. Sally and Bard sat with their backs to the door, and Nash half +facing it. + +"Steve," she said, with a sudden low tenseness of voice that sent a +chill up Bard's spinal cord, "Steve, what's wrong?" + +"This," answered the cowboy calmly, and whirling in his chair, his gun +flashed and exploded. + +They sprang up in time to see the bulky form of Butch Conklin rise out +of the shadows in the front part of the room with outstretched arms, +from one of which a revolver dropped clattering to the floor. Backward +he reeled as though a hand were pulling him from behind, and then +measured his length with a crash on the floor. + +Bard, standing erect, quite forgot to touch his weapon, but Sally had +produced a ponderous forty-five with mysterious speed and now crouched +behind a table with the gun poised. Nash, bending low, ran forward to +the fallen man. + +"Nicked, but not done for," he called. + +"Thank God!" cried Sally, and the two joined Nash about the prostrate +body. + +That bullet had had very certain intentions, but by a freak of chance +it had been deflected on the angle of the skull and merely ploughed a +bloody furrow through the mat of hair from forehead to the back of the +skull. He was stunned, but hardly more seriously hurt than if he had +been knocked down by a club. + +"I've an idea," said the Easterner calmly, "that I owe my life to you, +Mr. Nash." + +"Let that drop," answered the other. + +"A quarter of an inch lower," said the girl, who was examining the +wound, "and Butch would have kissed the world good-bye." + +Not till then did the full horror of the thing dawn on Bard. The girl +was no more excited than one of her Eastern cousins would have been over +a game of bridge, and the man in the most matter-of-fact manner, was +slipping another cartridge into the cylinder of the revolver, which he +then restored to the holster. + +It still seemed incredible that the man could have drawn his gun and +fired it in that flash of time. He recalled his adventure with Butch +earlier that evening and with Sandy Ferguson before; for the first time +he realized what he had done and a cold horror possessed him like the +man who has nerves to walk the tight rope across the chasm and faints +when he looks back on the gorge from the safety of the other side. The +girl took command. + +"Steve, run down to the marshal's office; Deputy Glendin is there." + +She took the wet cloth and made a deft bandage for the head of Conklin. +With his shaggy hair covered, and all his face sagging with lines of +weariness, the gun-fighter seemed no more than a middle-aged man asleep, +worn out by trouble. + +"Is there a doctor?" asked Bard anxiously. + +"That ain't a case for a doctor--look here; you're in a blue faint. What +is the matter?" + +"I don't know; I'm thinking of that quarter of an inch which would have +meant the difference to poor Conklin." + +"'Poor' Conklin? Why, you fish, he was sneakin' in here to try his hand +on you. He found out he couldn't get his gang into town, so he slipped +in by himself. He'll get ten years for this--and a thousand if they hold +him up for the other things he's done." + +"I know--and this fellow Nash was as quiet as the strike of a snake. If +he'd been a fraction of a second slower I might be where Conklin is now. +I'll never forget Nash for this." + +She said pointedly: "No, he's a bad one to forget; keep an eye on him. +You spoke of a snake--that's how smooth Steve is." + +"Remember your own motto, Miss Fortune. He saved my life; therefore I +must trust him." + +She answered sullenly: "You're your own boss." + +"What's wrong with Nash?" + +"Find out for yourself." + +"Are all these fellows something other than they seem?" + +"What about yourself?" + +"How do you mean that?" + +"What trail are you on, Bard? Don't look so innocent. Oh, I seen you was +after something a long time ago." + +"I am. After excitement, you know." + +"Ain't you finding enough?" + +"I've got two things ahead of me." + +"Well?" + +"This trip, and when I come back I think making love to you would be +more exciting than gun-plays." + +They regarded each other with bantering smiles. + +"A tenderfoot like you make love to me? That would be exciting, all +right, if it wasn't so funny." + +"As for the competition," he said serenely, "that would be simply a good +background." + +"Hate yourself, don't you, Bard?" she grinned. + +"The rest of these boys are all very well, but they don't see that what +you want is the velvet touch." + +"What's that?" + +She was as frankly curious as some boy hearing a new game described. + +"You've only been loved in one way. These rough-handed fellows come in +and throw an arm around you and ask you to marry them; isn't that it? +What you really need, is an old, simple, but very effective method." + +Though her eyes were shining, she yawned. + +"It don't interest me, Bard." + +"On the contrary, you're getting quite excited." + +"So does a horse before it gets ready to buck." + +"Exactly. If I thought it would be easy I wouldn't be tempted." + +"Well, if you like fighting you've sure mapped out a nice sizeable +quarrel with me, Bud." + +"Good. I'm certainly coming back to Eldara. Now about this method of +mine--" + +"Throwing your cards on the table, eh? What you got, Bard, a royal +flush?" + +"Right again. It's a very simple method but you couldn't beat it." + +"Bud, you ain't half old enough to kid me." + +"What you need," he persisted calmly, "is someone who would sit down +and simply talk good, plain English to you." + +"Let 'er go." + +"In the first place I will call attention to your method of dressing." + +"Anything wrong with it?" + +"I knew you'd be interested." + +She slipped into a chair and sat cross-legged in it, her elbows on her +knees and her chin cupped in both her hands. + +"Sure I'm interested. If there's a new way fixin' ham-and, serve it +out." + +"I would begin," he went on judiciously, "by saying that you dressed in +five minutes in the dark." + +"It's generally dark at 5 a.m.," she admitted. + +"You look, on the whole, as if you'd fallen into your clothes." + +The wounded man stirred and groaned faintly. + +She called: "Lie down, Butch; I'm busy. Go on, Bard." + +"If you keep a mirror it's a wall decoration--not for personal use." + +"Maybe this is an old method, Bard; but around this place it'd be a +quick way of gettin' shot." + +"Angry?" + +"You'd peeve a mule." + +"This was only an introduction. The next thing is to sit close beside +you and shift the lamp so that the light would shine on your face; then +take your hand--" + +He suited his action to his word. + +"Let go my hand, Bard. It's like the rest of me--not a decoration but +for use." + +"Afraid of me, Sally?" + +"Not of a regiment like you." + +"Then of my method?" + +"Go on; I'm game." + +"But this is all there is to it." + +"What d'you mean?" + +"Just what I say. Having observed that you haven't set off any of your +advantages, I will sit here and look into your face in silence, which is +as much as to say that no matter how you dress you can't spoil a very +excellent figure, Sally. I suppose you've heard that before?" + +"Lots of times," she muttered. + +"But you wouldn't hear it from me. All I would do would be to sit and +stare and let you imagine what I'm thinking. And you'd begin to see that +in spite of the way you do your hair you can't spoil its colour nor its +texture." + +He raised his other hand and touched it. + +"Like silk, Sally." + +He studied her closely, noting the flush which began to touch her +cheeks. + +"Part of the game is for you to keep looking me in the eye." + +"Well, I'll be--Go on, I'm game." + +"Is it hard to sit like this--silently? Do I do it badly?" + +"No, you show lots of practice. How many have you tried this method on, +Bard?" + +He made a vague gesture and then, smiling: "Millions, Sally, and they +all liked it." + +"So do I." + +And they laughed together, and grew serious at the same instant. + +"All silence--like this?" she queried. + +"No; after a while I would say: 'You are beautiful.'" + +"You don't get a blue ribbon for that, Bard." + +"Not for the words, but the way they're said, which shows I mean them." + +She blinked as though to clear her eyes and then met his stare again. + +"You know you are beautiful, Sally." + +"With a pug nose--freckles--and all that?" + +"Just a tip-tilt in the nose, Sally. Why, it's charming. And you have +everything else--young, strong, graceful, clear." + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"Clear? Fresh and colourful like the sunset over the desert. Do you +understand?" + +Her eyes went down to consider. + +"I s'pose I do." + +"With a touch of awe in it, because the silence and the night are +coming, and the stars walk down, one by one--one by one. And the wind is +low, soft, musical, whispering, as you do now--What if this were not a +game of suppose, Sally?" + +She wrenched herself suddenly away, rising. + +"I'm tired of supposing!" she cried. + +"Then we'll call it all real. What of that?" + +That colour was unmistakably high now; it ran down from her cheeks and +even stained the pure white of the throat where the flap of the shirt +was open. He was excited as a hunter who has tracked some new and +dangerous animal and at last driven it to bay, holding his gun poised, +and not knowing whether or not it will prove vulnerable. + +He stepped close, eager, prepared for any wild burst of temper; but she +let him take her hands, let him draw her close, bend back her head; hold +her closer still, till the warmth and softness of her body reached him, +but when his lips came close she said quietly: "Are you a rotter, +Bard?" + +He stiffened and the smile went out on his lips. He stepped back. + +She repeated: "Are you a rotter?" + +He raised the one hand which he still retained and touched it to his +lips. + +"I am very sorry," said Anthony, "will you forgive me?" + +And with her eyes large and grave upon him she answered: "I wonder if I +can!" + +Butch Conklin looked up, raising his bandaged head slowly, like a white +flag of truce, with a stain of red growing through the cloth. He stared +at the two, raised a hand to his head as though to rub away the dream, +found a pain too real for a dream, and then, like a crab which has grown +almost too old to walk, waddled on hands and knees, slowly, from the +room and melted silently into the dark beyond. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +FOOLISH HABITS + +A sharp noise of running feet leaped from the dust of the street and +clattered through the doorway; the two turned. A swarthy man, broad of +shoulder, was the first, and afterward appeared Nash. + +"Conklin?" called Deputy Glendin, and swept the room with his startled +glance. "Where's Conklin?" + +He was not there; only a red stain remained on the floor to show where +he had lain. + +"Where's Conklin?" called Nash. + +"I'm afraid," whispered Bard quickly to the girl, "that it was more than +a game of suppose." + +He said easily to the other two: "He had enough. His share of trouble +came to-night; I let him go." + +"Young feller," growled Glendin, "you ain't been in town a long while, +but I've heard a pile too much about you already. What you mean by +takin' the law into your own hands?" + +"Wait," said Nash, his keen eyes on the two, "I guess I understand." + +"Let's have it, then." + +Still the steady eyes of Nash passed from Sally Fortune to Bard and back +again. + +"This feller bein' a tenderfoot, he don't understand our ways; maybe he +thinks the range is a bit freer than it is." + +"That's the trouble," answered Glendin, "he thinks too damned much." + +"And does quite a pile besides thinkin'," murmured Nash, but too low for +the others to hear it. + +He hesitated, and then, as if making up his mind by a great effort: +"There ain't no use blamin' him; better let it drop, Glendin." + +"Nothin' else to do, Steve; but it's funny Sally let him do it." + +"It is," said Nash with emphasis, "but then women is pretty funny in +lots of ways. Ready to start, Bard?" + +"All ready." + +"S'long, Sally." + +"Good-night, Miss Fortune." + +"Evenin', boys. We'll be lookin' for you back in Eldara to-morrow night, +Bard." + +And her eyes fixed with meaning on Nash. + +"Certainly," answered the other, "my business ought not to take longer +than that." + +"I'll take him by the shortest cut," said Nash, and the two went out to +their horses. + +They had difficulty in riding the trail side by side, for though the +roan was somewhat rested by the delay at Eldara it was impossible to +keep him up with Bard's prancing piebald, which sidestepped at every +shadow. Yet the tenderfoot never allowed his mount to pass entirely +ahead of the roan, but kept checking him back hard, turning toward Nash +with an apology each time he surged ahead. It might have been merely +that he did not wish to precede the cowpuncher on a trail which he did +not know. It might have been something quite other than this which made +him consistently keep to the rear; Nash felt certain that the second +possibility was the truth. + +In that case his work would be doubly hard. From all that he had seen +the man was dangerous--the image of the tame puma returned to him again +and again. He could not see him plainly through the dark of the night, +but he caught the sway of the body and recognized a perfect +horsemanship, not a Western style of riding, but a good one no matter +where it was learned. He rode as if he were sewed to the back of the +horse, and, as old William Drew had suggested, he probably did other +things up to the same standard. It would have been hard to fulfil his +promise to Drew under any circumstances with such a man as this; but +with Bard apparently forewarned and suspicious the thing became almost +impossible. + +Almost, but not entirely so. He set himself calmly to the problem; on +the horn of his saddle the lariat hung loose; if the Easterner should +turn his back for a single instant during all the time they were +together old Drew should not be disappointed, and one thousand cash +would be deposited for the mutual interest of Sally Fortune and himself. +That is to say, if Sally would consent to become interested. To the +silent persuasion of money, however, Nash trusted many things. + +The roan jogged sullenly ahead, giving all the strength of his gallant, +ugly body to the work; the piebald mustang pranced like a dancing master +beside and behind with a continual jingling of the tossed bridle. + +The masters were to a degree like the horses they rode, for Nash kept +steadily leaning to the front, his bulldog jaw thrusting out; and Bard +was forever shifting in the saddle, settling his hat, humming a tune, +whistling, talking to the piebald, or asking idle questions of the +things they passed, like a boy starting out for a vacation. So they +reached the old house of which Nash had spoken--a mere, shapeless, black +heap huddling through the night. + +In the shed to the rear they tied the horses and unsaddled. In the +single room of the shanty, afterward, Nash lighted a candle, which he +produced from his pack, placed it in the centre of the floor, and they +unrolled their blankets on the two bunks which were built against the +wall on either side of the narrow apartment. + +Truly it was a crazy shack--such a building as two men, having the +materials at hand, might put together in a single day. It was hardly +based on a foundation, but rather set on the slope side of the hill, and +accordingly had settled down on the lower side toward the door. Not an +old place, but the wind had pried and the rain warped generous cracks +between the boards through which the rising storm whistled and sang and +through which the chill mist of the coming rain cut at them. + +Now and then a feeling came to Anthony that the gale might lift the +tottering old shack and roll it on down the hillside to the floor of the +valley, for it rocked and swayed under the breath of the storm. In a way +it was as if the night was giving a loud voice to the silent struggle of +the two men, who continued pleasant, careless with each other. + +But when Nash stepped across the room behind Bard, the latter turned and +was busy with the folding of his blankets at the foot of his bunk, his +face toward the cowpuncher and when Bard, slipping off his belt, fumbled +at his holster, Nash was instantly busy with the cleaning of his own +gun. + +The cattleman, having removed his boots, his hat, and his belt, was +ready for bed, and slipped his legs under the blankets. He stooped and +picked up his lariat, which lay coiled on the floor beside him. + +"People gets into foolish habits on the range," he said, thumbing the +strong rope curiously, and so doing, spreading out the noose. + +"Yes?" smiled Bard, and he also sat up in his bunk. + +"It's like a kid. Give him a new toy and he wants to take it to bed with +him. Ever notice?" + +"Surely." + +"That's the way with me. When I go to bed nothin' matters with me except +that I have my lariat around. I generally like to have it hangin' on a +nail at the head of my bunk. The fellers always laugh at me, but I can't +help it; makes me feel more at home." + +And with that, still smiling at his own folly in a rather shamefaced +way, he turned in the blankets and dropped the big coil of the lariat +over a nail which projected from the boards just over the head of his +bunk. The noose was outermost and could be disengaged from the nail by a +single twist of the cowpuncher's hand as he lay passive in the bunk. + +On this noose Bard cast a curious eye. To cityfolk a piece of rope is a +harmless thing with which one may make a trunk secure or on occasion +construct a clothes line on the roof of the apartment building, or in +the kitchen on rainy Mondays. + +To a sailor the rope is nothing and everything at once. Give a seaman +even a piece of string and he will amuse himself all evening making +lashings and knots. A piece of rope calls up in his mind the stout lines +which hold the masts steady and the yards true in the gale, the +comfortable cable which moors the ship at the end of the dreary voyage, +and a thousand things between. + +To the Westerner a rope is a different thing. It is not so much a useful +material as a weapon. An Italian, fighting man to man, would choose a +knife; a Westerner would take in preference that same harmless piece of +rope. In his hands it takes on life, it gains a strange and sinister +quality. One instant it lies passive, or slowly whirled in a careless +circle--the next its noose darts out like the head of a striking cobra, +the coil falls and fastens, and then it draws tighter and tighter, +remorselessly as a boa constrictor, paralyzing life. + +Something of all this went through the mind of Bard as he lay watching +the limp noose of the cowboy's lariat, and then he nodded smiling. + +"I suppose that seems an odd habit to some men, but I sympathize with +it. I have it myself, in fact. And whenever I'm out in the wilds and +carry a gun I like to have it under my head when I sleep. That's even +queerer than your fancy, isn't it?" + +And he slipped his revolver under the blankets at the head of his bunk. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +THE CANDLE + +"Yes," said Nash, "that's a queer stunt, because when you're lyin' like +that with your head right over the gun and the blankets in between, it'd +take you a couple of seconds to get it out." + +"Not when you're used to it. You'd be surprised to see how quickly a man +can get the gun out from under." + +"That so?" + +"Yes, and shooting while you're lying on your back is pretty easy, too, +when you've had practice." + +"Sure, with a rifle, but not with a revolver." + +"Well, do you see that bit of paper in the corner there up on the +rafter?" + +"Yes." + +The hand of Bard whipped under his head, there was a gleam and whirl of +steel, an explosion, and the bit of paper came fluttering slowly down +from the rafter, like a wounded bird struggling to keep upon the air. A +draft caught the paper just before it landed and whirled it through the +doorless entrance and out into the night. + +He was yawning as he restored the gun beneath the blanket, but from the +corner of his eye he saw the hardening of Nash's face, a brief change +which came and went like the passing of a shadow. + +"That's something I'll remember," drawled the cowpuncher. + +"You ought to," answered the other quickly, "it comes in handy now and +then." + +"Feel sleepy?" + +The candle guttered and flickered on the floor midway between the two +bunks, and Bard, glancing to it, was about to move from his bed and +snuff it; but at the thought of so doing it seemed to him as if he could +almost sense with prophetic mind the upward dart of the noose about his +shoulders. He edged a little lower in the blankets. + +"Not a bit. How about you?" + +"Me? I most generally lie awake a while and gab after I hit the hay. +Makes me sleep better afterward." + +"I do the same thing when I've any one who listens to me--or talks to +me." + +"Queer how many habits we got the same, eh?" + +"It is. But after all, most of us are more alike than we care to +imagine." + +"Yes, there ain't much difference; sometimes the difference ain't as +much as a split-second watch would catch, but it may mean that one +feller passes out and the other goes on." + +They lay half facing each other, each with his head pillowed on an arm. + +"By Jove! lucky we reached this shelter before the rain came." + +"Yep. A couple of hours of this and the rivers will be up--may take up +all day to get back to the ranch if we have to ride up to the ford on +the Saverack." + +"Then we'll swim 'em." + +The other smiled drily. + +"Swim the Saverack when she's up? No, lad, we won't do that." + +"Then I'll have to work it alone, I suppose. You see, I have that date +in Eldara for tomorrow night." + +Nash set his teeth, to choke back the cough. He produced papers and +tobacco, rolled a cigarette with lightning speed, lighted it, and +inhaled a long puff. + +"Sure, you ought to keep that date, but maybe Sally would wait till the +night after." + +"She impressed me, on the whole, as not being of the waiting kind." + +"H-m! A little delay does 'em good; gives 'em a chance to think." + +"Why, every man has his own way with women, I suppose, but my idea is, +keep them busy--never give them a chance to think. If you do, they +generally waste the chance and forget you altogether." + +Another coughing spell overtook Nash and left him frowning down at the +glowing end of his butt. + +"She ain't like the rest." + +"I wonder?" mused the Easterner. + +He had an infinite advantage in this duel of words, for he could watch +from under the shadow of his long, dark lashes the effect of his +speeches on the cowboy, yet never seem to be looking. For he was +wondering whether the enmity of Nash, which he felt as one feels an +unknown eye upon him in the dark, came from their rivalry about the +girl, or from some deeper cause. He was inclined to think that the girl +was the bottom of everything, but he left his mind open on the subject. + +And Nash, pondering darkly and silently, measured the strength of the +slender stranger and felt that if he were the club the other was the +knife which made less sound but might prove more deadly. Above all he +was conscious of the Easterner's superiority of language, which might +turn the balance against him in the ear of Sally Fortune. He dropped +the subject of the girl. + +"You was huntin' over on the old place on the other side of the range?" + +"Yes." + +"Pretty fair run of game?" + +"Rather." + +"I think you said something about Logan?" + +"Did I? I've been thinking a good deal about him. He gave me the wrong +tip about the way to Eldara. When I get back to the old place--" + +"Well?" + +The other smiled unpleasantly and made a gesture as if he were snapping +a twig between his hands. + +"I'll break him in two." + +The eyes of Nash grew wide with astonishment; he was remembering that +same phrase on the lips of the big, grey man, Drew. + +He murmured: "That may give you a little trouble. Logan's a peaceable +chap, but he has his record before he got down as low as sheepherdin'." + +"I like trouble--now and then." + +A pause. + +"Odd old shack over there." + +"Drew's old house?" + +"Yes. There's a grave in front of it." + +"And there's quite a yarn inside the grave." + +The cowpuncher was aware that the other stirred--not much, but as if he +winced from a drop of cold water; he felt that he was close on the trail +of the real reason why the Easterner wished to see Drew. + +"A story about Drew's wife?" + +"You read the writing on the headstone, eh?" + +"'Joan, she chose this place for rest,'" quoted Bard. + +"That was all before my time; it was before the time of any others in +these parts, but a few of the grey-beards know a bit about the story and +I've gathered a little of it from Drew, though he ain't much of a +talker." + +"I'd like to hear it." + +Sensitively aware of Bard, as a photographic plate is aware of light on +exposures, the cowpuncher went on with the tale. + +And Bard, his glance probing among the shadowy rafters of the room, +seemed to be searching there for the secret on whose trail he rode. +Through the interims the rain crashed and volleyed on the roof above +them; the cold spray whipped down on them through the cracks; the wind +shook and rattled the crazy house; and the drawling voice of Nash went +on and on. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +JOAN + +"Them were the days when this was a man's country, which a man could +climb on his hoss with a gun and a rope and touch heaven and hell in one +day's ridin'. Them good old days ain't no more. I've heard the old man +tell about 'em. Now they've got everybody stamped and branded with law +an' order, herded together like cattle, ticketed, done for. That's the +way the range is now. The marshals have us by the throat. In the old +days a sheriff that outlived his term was probably crooked and runnin' +hand in hand with the long-riders." + +"Long-riders?" queried Bard. + +"Fellers that got tired of workin' and took to ridin' for their livin'. +Mostly they worked in little gangs of five and six. They was called +long-riders, I guess, partly because they was in the saddle all the +time, and partly because they done their jobs so far apart. They'd ride +into Eldara and blow up the safe in the bank one day, for instance, and +five days later they'd be two hundred and fifty miles away stoppin' a +train at Lewis Station. + +"They never hung around no one part of the country and that made it hard +as hell to run 'em down--that and because they had the best hosses that +money could buy. They had friends, too, strung out all over--squatters +and the like of that. They'd drop in on these little fellers and pass +'em a couple of twenties and make themselves solid for life. Afterward +they used 'em for stoppin' places. + +"They'd pull off a couple of hold-ups, then they'd ride off to one of +these squatter places and lay up for ten days, maybe, drinkin' and +feedin' up themselves and their hosses. That was the only way they was +ever caught. They was killed off by each other, fighting about the +split-up, or something like that. + +"But now and then a gang held together long enough to raise so much hell +that they got known from one end of the range to the other. Mostly they +held together because they had a leader who knew how to handle 'em and +who kept 'em under his thumb. That was the way with old Piotto. + +"He had five men under him. They was all hell-benders who had ridden the +range alone and had their share of fights and killings, which there +wasn't one of 'em that wouldn't have been good enough to go leader in +any other crew, but they had to knuckle under to old Piotto. He was a +great gunman and he was pretty good in scheming up ways of dodging the +law and picking the best booty. He had these five men, and then he had +his daughter, Joan. She was better'n two ordinary men herself. + +"Three years that gang held together and got rich--fair rich. They made +it so fast they couldn't even gamble the stuff away. About a thousand +times, I guess posses went out after Piotto, but they never came back +with a trace of 'em; they never got within shootin' distance. Finally +Piotto got so confident that he started raidin' ranches and carryin' off +members of well-off ranchers to hold for ransom. That was the easiest +way of makin' money; it was also pretty damned dangerous. + +"One time they held up a stage and picked off of it two kids who was +comin' out from the East to try their hands in the cattle business. They +was young, they looked like gentlemen, they was dressed nifty, and they +packed big rolls. So wise old Piotto took 'em off into the hills and +held 'em till their folks back East could wire out the money to save +'em. That was easy money for Piotto, but that was the beginnin' of the +end for him; because while they was waitin', them two kids seen Joan and +seen her good. + +"I been telling you she was better'n two common men. She was. Which +means she was equal to about ten ordinary girls. There's still a legend +about how beautiful Joan Piotto was--tall and straight and big black +eyes and terrible handy with her gun. She could ride anything that +walked and she didn't know what fear meant. + +"These two kids seen her. One of 'em was William Drew; one of 'em was +John Bard." + +He turned to Anthony and saw that the latter was stern of face. He had +surely scored his point. + +"Same name as yours, eh?" he asked, to explain his turning. + +"It's a common enough name," murmured Bard. + +"Well, them two had come out to be partners, and there they was, fallin' +in love with the same girl. So when they got free they put their heads +together--bein' uncommon wise kids--and figured it out this way. Neither +of 'em had a chance workin' alone to get Joan way from her father's +gang, but workin' together they might have a ghost of a show. So they +decided to stay on the trail of Piotto till they got Joan. Then they'd +give her a choice between the two of 'em and the one that lost would +simply back off the boards. + +"They done what they agreed. For six months they stuck on the trail of +old Piotto and never got in hailin' distance of him. Then they come on +the gang while they were restin' up in the house of a squatter. + +"That was a pretty night. Drew and Bard went through that gang. It +sounds like a nice fairy-story, all right, but I know old fellers who'll +swear it's true. They killed three of the men with their guns; they +knifed another one, an' they killed Riley with their bare hands. It +wasn't no pretty sight to see--the inside of that house. And last of all +they got Piotto, fightin' like an old wildcat, into a corner with his +daughter; and William Drew, he took Piotto into his arms and busted his +back. That don't sound possible, but when you see Drew you'll know how +it was done. + +"The girl, she'd been knocked cold before this happened. So while Bard +and Drew sat together bindin' up each other's wounds--because they was +shot pretty near to pieces--they talked it over and they seen pretty +clear that the girl would never marry the man that had killed her +father. Of course, old Bill Drew, he'd done the killing, but that wasn't +any reason why he had to take the blame. + +"They made up their minds that right there and then with the dead men +lyin' all around 'em, they'd match coins to see which one would take the +blame of havin' killed Piotto--meanin' that the other one would get the +girl--if he could. + +"And Bard lost. So he had to take the credit of havin' killed old +Piotto. I'd of give something to have seen the two of 'em sittin' +there--oozin' blood--after that marchin' was decided. Because they tell +me that Bard was as big as Drew and looked pretty much the same. + +"Then Bard, he asked Drew to let him have one chance at the girl, +lettin' her know first what he'd done, but jest trustin' to his power of +talk. Which, of course, didn't give him no show. While he was makin' +love to the girl she outs with a knife and tries to stick him--nice, +pleasant sort she must have been--and Drew, he had to pry the two of 'em +apart. + +"That made the girl look sort of kind on Drew and she swore that sooner +or later she'd have the blood of Bard for what he'd done--either have it +herself or else send someone after him to the end of the world. She was +a wild one, all right. + +"She was so wild that Drew, after they got married, took her over on the +far side of the range and built that old house that's rottin' there +now. Bard, he left the range and wasn't never seen again, far as I +know." + +It was clear to Anthony, bitterly clear. His father had had a grim scene +in parting with Drew and had placed the continent between them. And in +the Eastern states he had met that black-eyed girl, his mother, and +loved her because she was so much like the wild daughter of Piotto. The +girl Joan in dying had probably extracted from Drew a promise that he +would kill Bard, and that promise he had lived to fulfil. + +"So Joan died?" he queried. + +"Yep, and was buried under them two trees in front of the house. I don't +think she lived long after they was married, but about that nobody +knows. They was clear off by themselves and there isn't any one can tell +about their life after they was married. All we know is that Drew didn't +get over her dyin'. He ain't over it yet, and goes out to the old place +every month or so to potter around the grave and keep the grass and the +weeds off of it and clean the head-stone." + +The candle guttered wildly on the floor. It had burnt almost to the wood +and now the remnant of the wick stood in a little sprawling pool of +grease white at the outer edges. + +Bard yawned, and patted idly the blanket where it touched on the shape +of the revolver beneath. In another moment that candle would gutter out +and they would be left in darkness. + +He said: "That's the best yarn I've heard in a good many days; it's +enough to make any one sleepy--so here goes." + +And he turned deliberately on his side. + +Nash, his eyes staring with incredulity, sat up slowly among his +blankets and his hand stole up toward the noose of the lariat. A light +snore reached him, hardly a snore so much as the heavy intake of breath +of a very weary, sleeping man; yet the hand of Nash froze on the lariat. + +"By God," he whispered faintly to himself, "he ain't asleep!" + +And the candle flared wildly, leaped, and shook out. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +THE SWIMMING OF THE SAVERACK + +Over the face of Nash the darkness passed like a cold hand and a colder +sense of failure touched his heart; but men who have ridden the range +have one great power surpassing all others--the power of patience. As +soundlessly as he had pushed himself up the moment before, he now +slipped down in the blankets and resigned himself to sleep. + +He knew that he would wake at the first hint of grey light and trusted +that after the long ride of the day before his companion would still be +fast asleep. That half light would be enough for his work; but when he +roused while the room was still scarcely more visible than if it were +filled with a grey fog, he found Bard already up and pulling on his +boots. + +"How'd you sleep?" he growled, following the example of the tenderfoot. + +"Not very well," said the other cheerily. "You see, that story of yours +was so vivid in my mind that I stayed awake about all night, I guess, +thinking it over." + +"I knew it," murmured Nash to himself. "He was awake all the time. And +still-----" + +If that thrown noose of the lariat had settled over the head and +shoulders of the sham sleeper it would have made no difference whether +he waked or slept--in the end he would have sat before William Drew tied +hand and foot. If that noose had not settled? The picture of the little +piece of paper fluttering to the floor came back with a strange +vividness to the mind of Nash, and he had to shrug his shoulders to +shake the thought away. + +They were in the saddle a very few moments after they awoke and started +out, breakfastless. The rain long ago had ceased, and there was only the +solemn silence of the brown hills around them--silence, and a faint, +crinkling sound as if the thirsty soil still drank. It had been a heavy +fall of rain, they could see, for whenever they passed a bare spot where +no grass grew, it was crossed by a thick tracery of the rivulets which +had washed down the slopes during the night. + +Soon they reached a little creek whose current, barely knee deep, foamed +up around the shoulders of the horses and set them staggering. + +"The Saverack will be hell," said Nash, "and we'd better cut straight +for the ford." + +"How long will it take?" + +"Add about three hours to the trip." + +"Can't do it; remember that little date back in Eldara to-night." + +"Then look for yourself and make up your mind for yourself," said Nash +drily, for they topped a hill, and below them saw a mighty yellow flood +pouring down the valley. It went leaping and shouting as if it rejoiced +in some destruction it had worked and was still working, and the muddy +torrent was threaded with many a ridge of white and swirling with +bubbles. + +"The Saverack," said Nash. "Now what d'you think about fording it?" + +"If we can't ford it, we can swim it," declared Bard. "Look at that +tree-trunk. If that will float I will float, and if I can float I can +swim, and if I can swim I'll reach the other bank of that little creek. +Won't we, boy?" + +And he slapped the proud neck of the mustang. + +"Swim it?" said Nash incredulously. "Does that date mean as much as that +to you?" + +"It isn't the date; it's the promise I gave," answered the other, +watching the current with a cool eye, "besides, when I was a youngster +I used to do things like this for the sport of it." + +They rode down to the edge of the stream. + +"How about it, Nash, will you take the chance with me?" + +And the other, looking down: "Try the current, I'll stay here on the +shore and if it gets too strong for you I'll throw out a rope, eh? But +if you can make it, I'll follow suit." + +The other cast a somewhat wistful eye of doubt upon the cowpuncher. + +"How far is it to the ford?" he asked. + +"About eight miles," answered Nash, doubling the distance on the spot. + +"Eight miles?" repeated the other ruefully. "Too far. Then here goes, +Nash." + +Still never turning his back on the cowpuncher, who was now uncoiling +his lariat and preparing it for a cast, Bard edged the piebald into the +current. He felt the mustang stagger as the water came knee-deep, and he +checked the horse, casting his eye from shore to shore and summing up +the chances. + +If it had been simply water against which he had to contend, he would +not have hesitated, but here and there along the course sharp pointed +rocks and broad-backed boulders loomed, and now and then, with a mighty +splashing and crashing one of these was overbalanced by the force of the +current and rolled another step toward the far-off sea. + +That rush of water would carry him far downstream and the chances were +hardly more than even that he would not strike against one of these +murderous obstructions about which the current foamed. + +An impulse made him turn and wave a hand to Nash. + +He shouted: "Give me luck?" + +"Luck?" roared the cowboy, and his voice came as if faint with distance +over the thunder of the stream. + +He touched the piebald with the spurs, and the gallant little horse +floundered forward, lost footing and struck into water beyond its depth. +At the same instant Bard swung clear of the saddle and let his body +trail out behind, holding with his left hand to the tail of the +struggling horse and kicking to aid the progress. + +Immersed to the chin, and sometimes covered by a more violent wave, the +sound of the river grew at once strangely dim, but he felt the force of +the current tugging at him like a thousand invisible hands. He began to +wish that he had taken off his boots before entering, for they weighted +his feet so that it made him leg-weary to kick. Nevertheless he trusted +in the brave heart of the mustang. There was no wavering in the wild +horse. Only his head showed over the water, but the ears were pricking +straight and high, and it never once swerved back toward the nearer +shore. + +Their progress at first was good, but as they neared the central portion +of the water they were swept many yards downstream for one that they +made in a transverse direction. Twice they missed projecting rocks by +the narrowest margin, and then something like an exceedingly thin and +exceedingly strong arm caught Anthony around the shoulders. It tugged +back, stopped all their forward progress, and let them sweep rapidly +down the stream and back toward the shore. + +Turning his head he caught a glimpse of Nash sitting calmly in his +saddle, holding the rope in both hands--and laughing. The next instant +he saw no more, for the current placed a taller rock between him and the +bank. On that rock the line of the lariat caught, hooking the swimmers +sharply in toward the bank. He would have cut the rope, but it would be +almost impossible to get out a knife and open a blade with his teeth, +still clinging to the tail of the swimming horse with one hand. He +reached down through the water, pulled out the colt, and with an effort +swung himself about. Close at hand he could not reach the rope, and +therefore he fired not directly at the rope itself, but at the edge of +the rock around which the lariat bent at a sharp angle. The splash of +that bullet from the strong face of the rock sliced the rope like a +knife. It snapped free, and the brave little mustang straightened out +again for the far shore. + +An instant more Bard swam with the revolver poised above the water, but +he caught no glimpse of Nash; so he restored it with some difficulty to +the holster, and gave all his attention and strength to helping the +horse through the water, swimming with one hand and kicking vigorously +with his feet. + +Perhaps they would not have made it, for now through exhaustion the ears +of the mustang were drooping back. He shouted, and at the faint sound of +his cheer the piebald pricked a single weary ear. He shouted again, and +this time not for encouragement, but from exultation; a swerving current +had caught them and was bearing them swiftly toward the desired bank. + +It failed them when they were almost touching bottom and swung sharply +out toward the centre again, but the mustang, as though it realized +that this was the last chance, fought furiously. Anthony gave the rest +of his strength, and they edged through, inch by inch, and horse and man +staggered up the bank and stood trembling with fatigue. + +Glancing back, he saw Nash in the act of throwing his lariat to the +ground, wild with anger, and before he could understand the meaning of +this burst of temper over a mere spoiled lariat, the gun whipped from +the side of the cowboy, exploded, and the little piebald, with ears +pricked sharply forward as though in vague curiosity, crumpled to the +ground. The suddenness of it took all power of action from Bard for the +instant. He stood staring stupidly down at the dying horse and then +whirled, gun in hand, frantic with anger and grief. + +Nash was galloping furiously up the far bank of the Saverack, already +safely out of range, and speeding toward the ford. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +DREW SMILES + +When the cattleman felt the rope snap back to his hand he could not +realize at first just what had happened. The crack of the gun had been +no louder than the snapping of a twig in that storming of the river, and +the only explanation he could find was that the rope had struck some +superlatively sharp edge of the rock and been sawed in two. But +examining the cut end he found it severed as cleanly as if a knife had +slashed across it, and then it was he knew and threw the lariat to the +ground. + +When he saw Bard scramble up the opposite bank he knew that his game was +lost and all the tables reversed, for the Easterner was a full two hours +closer to the home of Drew than he was, with the necessary detour up to +the ford. The Easterner might be delayed by the unknown country for a +time, but not very long. He was sure to meet someone who would point the +way. It was then that Nash drew his gun and shot down the piebald +mustang. + +The next instant he was racing straight up the river toward the ford. +The roan was not spared this day, for there were many chances that Bard +might secure a fresh mount to speed him on the way to the Drew ranch, +and now it was all important that the big grey man be warned; for there +was a danger in that meeting, as Nash was beginning to feel. + +By noon he reached the house and went straight to the owner, a desperate +figure, spattered with mud to the eyes, a three days' growth of whiskers +blackening his face, and that face gaunt with the long, hard riding. He +found the imperturbable Drew deep in a book in his office. While he was +drawing breath, the rancher examined him with a faint smile. + +"I thought this would be the end of it," he announced. + +"The devil and all hell plays on the side of Bard," answered the +foreman. "I had him safe--almost tied hand and foot. He got away." + +"Got away?" + +"Shot the rope in two." + +The other placed a book-mark, closed the volume, and looked up with the +utmost serenity. + +"Try again," he said quietly. "Take half a dozen men with you, surprise +him in the night----" + +"Surprise a wolf," growled Nash. "It's just the same." + +The shaggy eyebrows stirred. + +"How far is he away?" + +"Two or three miles--maybe half a dozen--I don't know. He'll be here +before night." + +The big man changed colour and gripped the edge of the desk. Nash had +never dreamed that it would be possible to so stir him. + +"Coming here?" + +"Yes." + +"Nash--you infernal fool! Did you let him know where you were taking +him?" + +"No. He was already on the way here." + +Once more Drew winced. He rose now and strode across the room and back; +from the wall the heavy echo of his footfall came sharply back. And he +paused in front of Nash, looming above his foreman like some primitive +monster, or as the Grecian heroes loomed above the rank and file at the +siege of Troy. He was like a relic of some earlier period when bigger +men were needed for a greater physical labour. + +"What does he want?" + +"I don't know. Says he wants to ask for the right of hunting on your +old place on the other side of the range. Which I'd tell a man it's jest +a lie. He knows he can hunt there if he wants to." + +"Does he know me?" + +"Just your name." + +"Did he ask many questions about me?" + +"Wanted to know what you looked like." + +"And you told him?" + +"A lot of things. Said you were big and grey. And I told him that story +about you and John Bard." + +Drew slumped into a chair and ground the knuckles of his right hand +across his forehead. The white marks remained as he looked up again. + +"What was that?" + +"Why, how you happened to marry Joan Piotto and how Bard left the +country." + +"That was all?" + +"Is there any more, sir?" + +The other stared into the distance, overlooking the question. + +"Tell me what you've found out about him." + +"I been after him these three days. Logan tipped him wrong, and he +started the south trail for Eldara. I got on his trail three times and +couldn't catch him till we hit Eldara." + +"I thought your roan was the most durable horse on the range, Steve. +You've often told me so." + +"He is." + +"But you couldn't catch--Bard?" + +"He was on a faster horse than mine--for a while." + +"Well? Isn't he now?' + +"I killed the horse." + +"You showed your hand, then? He knows you were sent after him?" + +"No, he thinks it's because of a woman." + +"Is he tangling himself up with some girl?" frowned the rancher. + +"He's cutting in on me with Sally Fortune--damn his heart!" + +And Nash paled visibly, even through whiskers and mud. The other almost +smiled. + +"So soon, Nash?" + +"With hosses and women, he don't lose no time." + +"What's he done?" + +"The first trace I caught of him was at a shack of an old ranchhouse +where he'd traded his lame hoss in. They gave him the wildest mustang +they had--a hoss that was saddle-shy and that hadn't never been ridden. +He busted that hoss in--a little piebald mustang, tougher 'n iron--and +that was why I didn't catch him till we hit Eldara." + +The smile was growing more palpable on the face of Drew, and he nodded +for the story to continue. + +"Then I come to a house which was all busted up because Bard had come +along and flirted with the girl, and she's got too proud for the feller +she was engaged to--begun thinkin' of millionaires right away, I s'pose. + +"Next I tracked him to Flanders's saloon, where he'd showed up Sandy +Ferguson the day before and licked him bad. I seen Ferguson. It was sure +some lickin'." + +"Ferguson? The gun-fighter? The two-gun man?" + +"Him." + +"Ah-h-h!" drawled the big man. + +The colour was back in his face. He seemed to be enjoying the recountal +hugely. + +"Then I hit Eldara and found all the lights out." + +"Because of Bard?" + +"H-m! He'd had a run-in with Butch Conklin, and Butch threatened to come +back with all his gang and wipe Eldara off the map. He stuck around and +while he was waitin' for Butch and his gang, he started flirtin' with +Sally--Fortune." + +The name seemed to stick in his throat and he had to bring it out with a +grimace. "So now you want his blood, Nash?" + +"I'll have it," said the cowpuncher quietly, "I've got gambler's luck. +In the end I'm sure to win." + +"You're not going to win here, Nash." + +"No?" queried the younger man, with a dangerous intonation. + +"No. I know the blood behind that chap. You won't win here. Blood will +out." + +He smote his great fist on the desk-top and his laugh was a thunder +which reverberated through the room. + +"Blood will out? The blood of John Bard?" asked Nash. + +Drew started. + +"Who said John Bard?" + +He grew grey again, the flush dying swiftly. He started to his feet and +repeated in a great voice, sweeping the room with a wild glance: "Who +said John Bard?" + +"I thought maybe this was his son," answered Nash. + +"You're a fool! Does he look like John Bard? No, there's only one person +in the world he looks like." + +He strode again up and down the room, repeating in a deep monotone: +"John Bard!" + +Coming to a sharp halt he said: "I don't want the rest of your story. +The point is that the boy will be here within--an hour--two hours. We've +got work to do before that time." + +"Listen to me," answered the foreman, "don't let him get inside this +house. I'd rather take part of hell into a house of mine. Besides, if he +sees me--" + +"He's coming here, but he's not going to see either of us--my mind is +made up--neither of us until I have him helpless." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +THE COMEDY SETTING + +"Dead, you mean," broke in Nash, "because otherwise he'll never be +helpless." + +"I tell you, Nash," said the other solemnly, "I can make him helpless +with one minute of talk. My problem is to keep that wild devil harmless +while he listens to me talk. Another thing--if he ever sees me, nothing +_but_ death will stop him from coming at my throat." + +"Speakin' personal," said the other coldly, "I never take no chances on +fellers that might come at my throat." + +"I know; you're for the quick draw and the quick finish. But I'd rather +die myself than have a hair of his head hurt. I mean that!" + +Nash, his thoughts spinning, stood staring blankly. + +"I give up tryin' to figure it out; but if he's comin' here and you want +to keep him safe I'd better take a fresh hoss and get twenty miles away +before night." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind; you'll stay here with me." + +"And face him without a gun?" asked the other incredulously. + +"Leave gun talk out of this. I think one of the boys looks a little like +me. Lawlor--isn't that his name?" + +"Him? Yes; a little bit like you--but he's got his thickness through the +stomach and not through the chest." + +"Never mind. He's big, and he's grey. Send for him, and get the rest of +the boys in here. They're around now for noon. Get _every_ one. +Understand? And make it fast." + +In ten minutes they came to the office in a troop--rough men, smooth +men, little and big, fat and thin, but good cattlemen, every one. + +"Boys," said Drew, "a tenderfoot is coming to the ranch to-day. I'm +going to play a few jokes on him. First of all, I want you to know that +until the stranger leaves the house, Lawlor is going to take my place. +He is going to be Drew. Understand?" + +"Lawlor?" broke out several of them, and turned in surprise to a big, +cheerful man--grey, plump, with monstrous white whiskers. + +"Because he looks a bit like me. First, you'll have to crop those +whiskers, Lawlor." + +He clutched at the threatened whiskers with both hands. + +"Crop 'em? Chief, you ain't maybe runnin' me a bit?" + +"Not a bit," said Drew, smiling faintly. "I'll make it worth your +while." + +"It took me thirty years to raise them whiskers," said the cattleman, +stern with rebuke. "D'you think I could be _hired_ to give 'em up? It's +like givin' up some of myself." + +"Let them go, then. You can play the part, whiskers and all. The rest of +you remember that Lawlor is the boss." + +"And brand that deep," growled Lawlor, looking about with a frown. + +He had already stepped into his part; the others laughed loudly. + +"Steady there!" called Drew. "Lawlor starts as boss right now. Cut out +the laughing. I'll tell the rest of you what you're to do later on. In +the meantime just step out and I'll have a talk with Lawlor on his part. +We haven't much time to get ready. But remember--if one of you grins +when Lawlor gives an order--I'm done with that man--that's all." + +They filed out of the room, looking serious, and Drew concentrated on +Lawlor. "This sounds like a joke," he began, "but there's something +serious about it. If you carry it through safely, there's a hundred in +it for you. If you fall down, why, you fall out of an easy place on this +ranch." + +The big cattleman wiped a growing perspiration from his forehead and +considered his boss with plaintive eyes. + +"This tenderfoot who's coming is green to the range, but he's a hard +man; a fine horseman, a sure shot, and a natural fighter. More than +that, he's coming here looking for trouble; and he'll expect to get the +trouble from you." + +Lawlor brushed his moustache anxiously. + +"Let someone else take the job--that's all. A hundred ain't to be picked +up every week, but I'll do without it. In my day I've done my share of +brawlin' around, but I'm too stiff in the joints to make a fast draw and +getaway now. Let Nash take this job. He's gun-fighter enough to handle +this bad-man for you." + +"No," said Drew, "not even Nash can handle this one." + +"Then"--with a mighty and explosive emphasis--"there ain't no possible +use of me lingering around the job. S'-long." + +"Wait. This young chap isn't going to murder you. I'll tell you this +much. The man he wants is I; but he knows my face, not my name. He's +been on the trail of that face for some time, and now he's tracking it +to the right house; but when he sees you and hears you called Drew, +he'll be thrown off again." + +The other nodded gloomily. + +"I'm by way of a lightning rod. This tenderfoot with the hard hand, he +strikes and I sort of conduct the shock away from anything that'll burn, +eh?" + +Drew overlooked the comment. + +"There are certain things about me you will have to know." And he +explained carefully the story which Nash had told to Bard. + +"This Bard," asked the cautious Lawlor, "is he any relation of old John +Bard?" + +"Even if he were, it wouldn't make your position dangerous. The man he +wants is I. He knows my face--not my name. Until he sees me he'll be +perfectly reasonable, unless he's crossed. You must seem frank and above +board. If you tell more lies than are necessary he may get suspicious, +and if he grows suspicious the game is up and will have to be finished +with a gun play. Remember that. He'll want to know about Nash. Tell him +that Nash is a bad one and that you've fixed him; he mustn't expect to +find Nash here." + +Lawlor rubbed his hands, like one coming from the cold outdoors to a +warm fire. + +"I'm beginning to see light. Lemme at this Bard. I'm going to get enough +fun out of this to keep me laughin' the rest of my life." + +"Good; but keep that laugh up your sleeve. If he asks questions you'll +have some solemn things to say." + +"Chief, when the time comes, there's going to be about a gallon of tears +in my eyes." + +So Drew left him to complete the other arrangements. If Bard reached the +house he must be requested to stay, and if he stayed he must be fed and +entertained. The difficulty in the way of this was that the servants in +the big ranchhouse were two Chinese boys. They could never be trusted to +help in the deception, so Drew summoned two of his men, "Shorty" Kilrain +and "Calamity" Ben. + +Calamity had no other name than Ben, as far as any one on the range had +ever been able to learn. His nickname was derived from the most dolorous +face between Eldara and Twin Rivers. Two pale-blue eyes, set close +together, stared out with an endless and wistful pathos; a long nose +dropped below them, and his mouth curled down at the sides. He was +hopelessly round-shouldered from much and careless riding, and in +attempting to straighten he only succeeded in throwing back his head, so +that his lean neck generally was in a V-shape with the Adam's apple as +the apex of the wedge. + +Shorty Kilrain received his early education at sea and learned there a +general handiness which stood him in stead when he came to the +mountain-desert. There was nothing which Shorty could not do with his +hands, from making a knot to throwing a knife, and he was equally ready +to oblige with either accomplishment. Drew proposed that he take charge +of the kitchen with Calamity Ben as an assistant. Shorty glowered on the +rancher. + +"Me!" he said. "Me go into the galley to wait on a blasted tenderfoot?" + +"After he leaves you'll have a month off with full pay and some over, +Shorty." + +"Don't want the month off." + +Drew considered him thoughtfully, following the precept of Walpole that +every man has his price. + +"What _do_ you want, Shorty?" + +The ex-sailor scratched his head and then rolled his eyes up with a +dawning smile, as one who sees a vision of ultimate bliss. + +"Let one of the other boys catch my hoss out of the corral every morning +and saddle him for me for a month." + +"It's a bargain. What'll you do with that time?" + +"Sit on the fence and roll a cigarette like a blasted gentleman and damn +the eyes of the feller that's catchin' my hoss." + +"And me," said Calamity Ben, "what do I get?" + +"You get orders," answered Kilrain, "from me." + +Calamity regarded him, uncertain whether or not to fight out the point, +but apparently decided that the effort was not worth while. + +"There ain't going to be no luck come out of this," he said darkly. +"Before this tenderfoot gets out of the house, we're all going to wish +he was in hell." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +"SAM'L HALL" + +But with the stage set and the curtain ready to rise on the farce, the +audience did not arrive until the shadow of the evening blotted the +windows of the office where big Lawlor waited impatiently, rehearsing +his part; but when the lamp had been lighted, as though that were a +signal for which the tenderfoot had waited, came a knock at the door of +the room, and then it was jerked open and the head of one of the +cowpunchers was inserted. + +"He's coming!" + +The head disappeared; the door slammed. Lawlor stretched both arms wide, +shifted his belt, loosened his gun in the holster for the fiftieth time, +and exhaled a long breath. Once more the door jerked open, and this time +it was the head and sullen face of Nash, enlivened now by a peculiarly +unpleasant smile. + +"He's here!" + +As the door closed the grim realization came to Lawlor that he could +not face the tenderfoot--his staring eyes and his pallor would betray +him even if the jerking of his hands did not. He swung about in the +comfortable chair, seized a book and whisking it open bowed his head to +read. All that he saw was a dance of irregular black lines: voices +sounded through the hall outside. + +"Sure, he'll see you," Calamity Ben was saying. "And if you want to put +up for the night there ain't nobody more hospital than the Chief. Right +in here, son." + +The door yawned. He could not see, for his back was resolutely toward it +and he was gripping the cover of the book hard to steady his hands; but +he felt a breath of colder air from the outer hall; he felt above all a +new presence peering in upon him, like a winter-starved lynx that might +flatten its round face against the window and peer in at the lazy warmth +and comfort of the humans around the hearth inside. Some such feeling +sent a chill through Lawlor's blood. + +"Hello!" called Calamity Ben. + +"Humph!" grunted Lawlor. + +"Got a visitor, Mr. Drew." + +"Bring him in." + +And Lawlor cleared his throat. + +"All right, here he is." + +The door closed, and Lawlor snapped the book shut. + +"Drew!" said a low voice. + +The cowpuncher turned in his chair. He had intended to rise, but at the +sound of that controlled menace he knew that his legs were too weak to +answer that purpose. What he saw was a slender fellow, who stood with +his head somewhat lowered while his eyes peered down from under +contracted brows, as though the light were hurting them. His feet were +braced apart and his hands dropped lightly on his hips--the very picture +of a man ready to spring into action. + +Under the great brush of his moustache, Lawlor set his teeth, but he was +instantly at ease; for if the sight of the stranger shook him to the +very centre, the other was even more obviously shocked by what he saw. +The hands dropped limp from his hips and dangled idly at his sides; his +body straightened almost with a jerk, as though he had been struck +violently, and now, instead of that searching look, he was blinking down +at his host. Lawlor rose and extended a broad hand and an even broader +smile; he was proud of the strength which had suddenly returned to his +legs. + +"H'ware ye, stranger? Sure glad to see you." + +The other accepted the proffered hand automatically, like one moving in +a dream. + +"Are you Drew?" + +"Sure am." + +"William Drew?" + +He still held the hand as if he were fearful of the vision escaping +without that sensible bondage. + +"William Drew is right. Sit down. Make yourself to home." + +"Thanks!" breathed the other and as if that breath expelled with it all +his strength he slumped into a chair and sat with a fascinated eye glued +to his host. + +Lawlor had time to mark now the signs of long and severe travelling +which the other bore, streaks of mud that disfigured him from heel to +shoulder; and his face was somewhat drawn like a man who has gone to +work fasting. + +"William Drew!" he repeated, more to himself than to Lawlor, and the +latter formed a silent prayer of gratitude that he was _not_ William +Drew. + +"I'm forgetting myself," went on the tenderfoot, with a ghost of a +smile. "My name is Bard--Anthony Bard." + +His glance narrowed again, and this time Lawlor, remembering his part, +pretended to start with surprise. + +"Bard?" + +"Yes. Anthony Bard." + +"Glad to know you. You ain't by any chance related to a John Bard?" + +"Why?" + +"Had a partner once by that name. Good old John Bard!" + +He shook his head, as though overcome by recollections. + +"I've heard something about you and your partner, Mr. Drew." + +"Yes?" + +"In fact, it seems to be a rather unusual story." + +"Well, it ain't common. John Bard! I'll tell the world there was a man." + +"Yes, he was." + +"What's that?" + +"He must have been," answered Anthony, "from all that I've heard of him. +I'm interested in what I scrape together about him. You see, he carries +the same name." + +"That's nacheral. How long since you ate?" + +"Last night." + +"The hell! Starved?" + +"Rather." + +"It's near chow-time. Will you eat now or wait for the reg'lar spread?" + +"I think I can wait, thank you." + +"A little drink right now to help you along, eh?" He strode over and +opened the door. "Hey! Shorty!" + +For answer there came only the wail of an old pirate song. + + + "Oh, my name's Sam'l Hall--Sam'l Hall; + My name's Sam'l Hall--Sam'l Hall. + My name is Sam'l Hall, + And I hate you one an' all, + You're a gang of muckers all-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Listen!" said Lawlor, turning to his guest with a deprecating wave of +the hand. "A cook what sings! Which in the old days I wouldn't have had +a bum like that around my place, but there ain't no choosin' now." + +The voice from the kitchen rolled out louder: + + + "I killed a man, they said, so they said; + I killed a man, they said, so they said. + I killed a man they said, + For I hit 'im on the head, + And I left him there for dead-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Hey! Shorty Kilrain!" bellowed the aggravated host. + +He turned to Bard. + +"What'd you do with a bum like that for a cook?" + +"Pay him wages and keep him around to sing songs. I like this one. +Listen!" + + + "They put me in the quad--in the quad; + They put me in the quad--in the quad. + They put me in the quad, + They chained me to a rod, + And they left me there, by God-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Kilrain, come here and make it fast or I'll damn your eyes!" + +He explained to Bard: "Got to be hard with these fellers or you never +get nowhere with 'em." + +"Yo ho!" answered the voice of the singer, and approached booming: + + + "The parson he did come, he did come; + The parson he did come--did come. + The parson he did come, + He looked almighty glum, + He talked of kingdom come--. + Damn your eyes!" + + +Shorty loomed in the doorway and caught his hand to his forehead in a +nautical salute. He had one bad eye, and now it squinted as villainously +as if he were the real _Sam'l Hall_. + +"Righto sir. What'll you have, mate?" + +"Don't mate me, you igner'nt sweepin' of the South Sea, but trot up some +red-eye--and gallop." + +The ex-sailor shifted his quid so that it stuck far out in the opposite +cheek with such violence of pressure that a little spot of white +appeared through the tan of the skin. He regarded Lawlor for a silent +moment with bodeful eyes. + +"What the hell are you lookin' at?" roared the other. "On your way!" + +The features of Kilrain twitched spasmodically. + +"Righto, sir." + +Another salute, and he was off, his voice coming back less and less +distinctly. + + + "So up the rope I'll go, I will go; + So up the rope I'll go--I'll go. + So up the rope I'll go + With the crowd all down below + Yelling, 'Sam, I told you so!' + Damn their eyes!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +HAIR LIKE THE SUNSHINE + +"Well," grumbled Lawlor, settling back comfortably into his chair, "one +of these days I'm goin' to clean out my whole gang and put in a new one. +They maybe won't be any better but they can't be any wuss." + +Nevertheless, he did not seem in the least downhearted, but apparently +had some difficulty in restraining his broad grin. + +The voice of the grim cook returned: + + + "I'll see Nelly in the crowd, in the crowd; + I'll see Nelly in the crowd, in the crowd; + I'll see Nelly in the crowd, + And I'll holler to her loud: + 'Hey, Nelly, ain't you proud-- + Damn your eyes?'" + + +"I ask you," cried Lawlor, with freshly risen wrath, "is that any way to +go around talkin' about women?" + +"Not talking. He's singing," answered Bard. "Let him alone." + +The thunder of their burly Ganymede's singing rose and echoed about +them. + + + "And this shall be my knell, be my knell; + And this shall be my knell--my knell. + And this shall be my knell: + 'Sam, I hope you go to hell, + Sam, I hope you sizzle well-- + Damn your eyes!'" + + +Shorty Kilrain appeared in the doorway, his mouth wide on the last, +long, wailing note. + +"Shorty," said Lawlor, with a sort of hopeless sadness, "ain't you never +been educated to sing no better songs than that?" + +"Why, you old, grey-headed--" began Shorty, and then stopped short and +hitched his trousers violently. + +Lawlor pushed the bottle of whisky and glass toward Bard. + +"Help yourself." And to Kilrain, who was leaving the room: "Come back +here." + +"Well?" snarled the sailor, half turning at the door. + +"While I'm runnin' this here ranch you're goin' to have manners, see?" + +"If manners was like your whiskers," said the unabashed Shorty, "it'd +take me nigh onto thirty years to get 'em." + +And he winked at Bard for sympathy. + +Lawlor smashed his fist on the table. + +"What I say is, are you running this ranch or am I?" + +"Well?" growled Kilrain. + +"If you was a kid you'd have your mouth washed out with soap." + +The eyes of Shorty bulged. + +"It ought to be done now, but there ain't no one I'd give such dirty +work to. What you're going to do is stand right here and show us you +know how to sing a decent song in a decent way. That there song of yours +didn't leave nothin' sacred untouched, from parsons and jails to women +and the gallows. Stand over there and sing." + +The eyes of the sailor filmed over with cold hate. + +"Was I hired to punch cattle," he said, "or make a blasted, roarin' fool +out of myself?" + +"You was hired," answered Lawlor softly, as he filled his glass to the +brim with the old rye whisky, "to be a cook, and you're the rottenest +hash-slinger that ever served cold dough for biscuits; a blasted, +roarin' fool you've already made out of yourself by singin' that song. I +want another one to get the sound of that out of my ears. Tune up!" + +Thoughts of murder, ill-concealed, whitened the face of the sailor. + +"Some day--" he began hoarsely, and then stopped. For a vision came to +him of blithe mornings when he should sit on the top of the corral fence +rolling a cigarette, while some other puncher went into the herd and +roped and saddled his horse. + +"D'you mean this--Drew?" he asked, with an odd emphasis. + +"D'you think I'm talking for fun?" + +"What'll I sing?" he asked in a voice which was reduced to a faint +whisper by rage. + +"I dunno," mused Lawlor, "but maybe it ought to lie between 'Alice, Ben +Bolt,' and 'Annie Laurie.' What d'you choose, partner?" + +He turned to Bard. + +"'Alice, Ben Bolt,' by all means. I don't think he could manage the +Scotch." + +"Start!" commanded Lawlor. + +The sailor closed his eyes, tilted back his head, twisted his face to a +hideous grimace, and then opening his shapeless mouth emitted a +tremendous wail which took shape in the following words: + + + "Oh, don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, + Sweet Alice, with hair like the sunshine--" + + +"Shut up!" roared Lawlor. + +It required a moment for Shorty to unkink the congested muscles of his +face. + +"What the hell's the matter now?" he inquired. + +"Whoever heard of 'hair like the sunshine'? There ain't no such thing +possible. 'Hair so brown,' that's what the song says. Shorty, we got +more feelin' for our ears than to let you go on singin' an' showin' your +ignerance. G'wan back to the kitchen!" + +Kilrain drew a long breath, regarded Lawlor again with that considerate, +expectant eye, and then turned on his heel and strode from the room. +Back to Bard came fragments of tremendous cursing of an epic breadth and +a world-wide inclusiveness. + +"Got to do things like this once in a while to keep 'em under my thumb," +Lawlor explained genially. + +With all his might Bard was struggling to reconcile this big-handed +vulgarian with his mental picture of the man who could write for an +epitaph: "Here sleeps Joan, the wife of William Drew. She chose this +place for rest." But the two ideas were not inclusive. + +He said aloud: "Aren't you afraid that that black-eyed fellow will run a +knife between your ribs one of these dark nights?" + +"Who? My ribs?" exclaimed Lawlor, nevertheless stirring somewhat +uneasily in his chair. "Nope, they know that I'm William Drew. They may +be hard, but they know I'm harder." + +"Oh," drawled the other, and his eyes held with uncomfortable steadiness +on the rosy face of Lawlor. "I understand." + +To cover his confusion Lawlor seized his glass. + +"Here's to you--drinkin' deep." + +And he tossed off the mighty potion. Bard had poured only a few drops +into his glass; he had too much sympathy for his empty stomach to do +more. His host leaned back, coughing, with tears of pleasure in his +eyes. + +"Damn me!" he breathed reverently. "I ain't touched stuff like this in +ten years." + +"Is this a new stock?" inquired Bard, apparently puzzled. + +"This?" said Lawlor, recalling his position with a start. "Sure it is; +brand new. Yep, stuff ain't been in more'n five days. Smooth, ain't it? +Medicine, that's what I call it; a gentleman's drink--goes down like +water." + +Observing a rather quizzical light in the eyes of Bard, he felt that he +had probably been making a few missteps, and being warmed greatly at the +heart by the whisky, he launched forth in a new phase of the +conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +"THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON" + +"Speakin' of hard cattlemen," he said, "I could maybe tell you a few +things, son." + +"No doubt of it," smiled Anthony. "I presume it would take a _very_ hard +man to handle this crowd." + +"Fairly hard," nodded the redoubtable Lawlor, "but they ain't nothin' to +the men that used to ride the range in the old days." + +"No?" + +"Nope. One of them men--why, he'd eat a dozen like Kilrain and think +nothin' of it. Them was the sort I learned to ride the range with." + +"I've heard something about a fight which you and John Bard had against +the Piotto gang. Care to tell me anything of it?" + +Lawlor lolled easily back in his chair and balanced a second large drink +between thumb and forefinger. + +"There ain't no harm in talk, son; sure I'll tell you about it. What +d'you want to know?" + +"The way Bard fought--the way you both fought." + +"Lemme see." + +He closed his eyes like one who strives to recollect; he was, in fact, +carefully recalling the skeleton of facts which Drew had told him +earlier in the day. + +"Six months, me and Bard had been trailin' Piotto, damn his old soul! +Bard--he'd of quit cold a couple of times, but I kept him at it." + +"John Bard would have quit?" asked Anthony softly. + +"Sure. He was a big man, was Bard, but he didn't have none too much +endurance." + +"Go on," nodded Anthony. + +"Six months, I say, we was ridin' day and night and wearin' out a hoss +about every week of that time. Then we got jest a hint from a bartender +that maybe the Piottos was nearby in that section. + +"It didn't need no more than a hint for us to get busy on the trail. We +hit a circle through the mountains--it was over near Twin Rivers where +the ground ain't got a level stretch of a hundred yards in a whole day's +ridin'. And along about evenin' of the second day we come to the house +of Tom Shaw, a squatter. + +"Bard would of passed the house up, because he knew Shaw and said there +wasn't nothin' crooked about him, but I didn't trust nobody in them +days--and I ain't changed a pile since." + +"That," remarked Anthony, "is an example I think I shall follow." + +"Eh?" said Lawlor, somewhat blankly. "Well, we rode up on the blind side +of the house--from the north, see, got off, and sneaked around to the +east end of the shack. The windows was covered with cloths on the +inside, which didn't make me none too sure about Shaw havin' no dealin's +with crooks. It ain't ordinary for a feller to be so savin' on light. +Pretty soon we found a tear in one of the cloths, and lookin' through +that we seen old Piotto sittin' beside Tom Shaw with his daughter on the +other side. + +"We went back to the north side of the house and figured out different +ways of tacklin' the job. There was only the two of us, see, and the +fellers inside that house was all cut out for man-killers. How would you +have gone after 'em, son?" + +"Opened the door, I suppose, and started shooting," said Bard, "if I had +the courage." + +The other stared at him. + +"You heard this story before?" + +"Not this part." + +"Well, that was jest what we done. First off, it sounds like a fool way +of tacklin' them; but when you think twice it was the best of all. They +never was expectin' anybody fool enough to walk right into that room and +start fightin'. We went back and had a look at the door. + +"It wasn't none too husky. John Bard, he tried the latch, soft, but the +thing was locked, and when he pulled there was a snap. + +"'Who's there?' hollers someone inside. + +"We froze ag'in' the side of the house, lookin' at each other pretty +sick. + +"'Nobody's there,' sings out the voice of old Piotto. 'We can trust Tom +Shaw, jest because he knows that if he double-crossed us he'd be the +first man to die.' + +"And we heard Tom say, sort of quaverin': 'God's sake, boys, what d'you +think I am?' + +"'Now,' says Bard, and we put our shoulders to the door, and takes our +guns in our hands--we each had two. + +"The door went down like nothin', because we was both husky fellers in +them days, and as she smashed in the fall upset two of the boys sittin' +closest and gave 'em no chance on a quick draw. The rest of 'em was too +paralyzed at first, except old Piotto. He pulled his gun, but what he +shot was Tom Shaw, who jest leaned forward in his chair and crumpled up +dead. + +"We went at 'em, pumpin' lead. It wasn't no fight at first and half of +'em was down before they had their guns workin'. But when the real hell +started it wasn't no fireside story, I'll tell a man. We had the jump on +'em, but they meant business. I dropped to the floor and lay on my side, +shootin'; Bard, he followered suit. They went down like tenpins till our +guns were empty. Then we up and rushed what was left of 'em--Piotto and +his daughter. Bard makes a pass to knock the gun out of the hand of Joan +and wallops her on the head instead. Down she goes. I finished Piotto +with my bare hands." + +"Broke his back, eh?" + +"Me? Whoever heard of breakin' a man's back? Ha, ha, ha! You been +hearin' fairy tales, son. Nope, I choked the old rat." + +"Were you badly hurt?" + +Lawlor searched his memory hastily; there was no information on this +important point. + +"Couple of grazes," he said, dismissing the subject with a tolerant wave +of the hand. "Nothin' worth talkin' of." + +"I see," nodded Bard. + +It occurred to Lawlor that his guest was taking the narrative in a +remarkably philosophic spirit. He reviewed his telling of the story +hastily and could find nothing that jarred. + +He concluded: "That was the way of livin' in them days. They ain't no +more--they ain't no more!" + +"And now," said Anthony, "the only excitement you get is out of +books--and running the labourers?" + +He had picked up the book which Lawlor had just laid down. + +"Oh, I read a bit now and then," said the cowpuncher easily, "but I +ain't much on booklearnin'." + +Bard was turning the pages slowly. The title, whose meaning dawned +slowly on his astonished mind as a sunset comes in winter over a grey +landscape, was The Critique of Pure Reason. He turned the book over and +over in his hands. It was well thumbed. + +He asked, controlling his voice: "Are you fond of Kant?" + +"Eh?" queried the other. + +"Fond of this book?" + +"Yep, that's one of my favourites. But I ain't much on any books." + +"However," said Bard, "the story of this is interesting." + +"It is. There's some great stuff in it," mumbled Lawlor, trying to +squint at the title, which he had quite overlooked during the daze in +which he first picked it up. + +Bard laid the book aside and out of sight. + +"And I like the characters, don't you? Some very close work done with +them." + +"Yep, there's a lot of narrow escapes." + +"Exactly. I'm glad that we agree about books." + +"So'm I. Feller can kill a lot of time chinning about books." + +"Yes, I suppose a good many people have killed time over this book." + +And as he smiled genially upon the cowpuncher, Bard felt a great relief +sweep over him, a mighty gladness that this was not Drew--that this +looselipped gabbler was not the man who had written the epitaph over the +tomb of Joan Piotto. He lied about the book; he had lied about it all. +And knowing that this was not Drew, he felt suddenly as if someone were +watching him from behind, someone large and grey and stern of eye, like +the giant who had spoken to him so long before in the arena at Madison +Square Garden. + +A game was being played with him, and behind that game must be Drew +himself; all Bard could do was to wait for developments. + +The familiar, booming voice of Shorty Kilrain echoed through the house: +"Supper!" + +And the loud clangour of a bell supported the invitation. + +"Chow-time," breathed Lawlor heavily, like one relieved at the end of a +hard shift of work. "I figure you ain't sorry, son?" + +"No," answered Bard, "but it's too bad to break off this talk. I've +learned a lot." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +THE STAGE + +"You first," said Lawlor at the door. + +"I've been taught to let an older man go first," said Bard, smiling +pleasantly. "After you, sir." + +"Any way you want it, Bard," answered Lawlor, but as he led the way down +the hall he was saying to himself, through his stiffly mumbling lips: +"He knows! Calamity was right; there's going to be hell poppin' before +long." + +He lengthened his stride going down the long hall to the dining-room, +and entering, he found the cowpunchers about to take their places around +the big table. Straight toward the head to the big chair he stalked, and +paused an instant beside little Duffy. Their interchange of whispers was +like a muffled rapid-fire, for they had to finish before young Bard, now +just entering the room, could reach them and take his designated chair +at the right of Lawlor. + +"He knows," muttered Lawlor. + +"Hell! Then it's all up?" + +"No; keep bluffin'; wait. How's everything?" + +"Gregory ain't come in, but Drew may put him wise before he gets inside +the house." + +"You done all I could expect," said Lawlor aloud as Bard came up, "but +to-morrow go back on the same job and try to get something definite." + +To Bard: "Here's your place, partner. Just been tellin' Duffy, there on +your right, about some work. Some of the doggies have been rustled +lately and we're on their trail." + +They took their places, and Bard surveyed the room carefully, as an +actor who stands in the wings and surveys the stage on which he is soon +to step and play a great part; for in Anthony there was a gathering +sense of impending disaster and action. What he saw was a long, low +apartment, the bare rafters overhead browned by the kitchen smoke, which +even now was rolling in from the wide door at the end of the room--the +thick, oily smoke of burnt meat mingled with steam and the nameless +vapours of a great oven. + +There was no semblance of a decoration on the walls; the boards were not +even painted. It was strictly a place for use, not pleasure. The food +itself which Shorty Kilrain and Calamity Ben now brought on was +distinctly utilitarian rather than appetizing. The pièce de resistance +was a monstrous platter heaped high with beefsteak, not the inviting +meat of a restaurant in a civilized city, but thin, brown slabs, fried +dry throughout. The real nourishment was in the gravy in which the steak +swam. In a dish of even more amazing proportions was a vast heap of +potatoes boiled with their jackets on. Lawlor commenced loading the +stack of plates before him, each with a slab and a potato or two. + +Meantime from a number of big coffee pots a stream of a liquid, bitter as +lye and black as night, was poured into the tin cups. Yet the cattlemen +about the table settled themselves for the meal with a pleasant +expectation fully equal to that of the most seasoned gourmand in a +Manhattan restaurant. + +The peculiar cowboy's squint--a frowning of the brow and a compression +of the thin lips--relaxed. That frown came from the steady effort to +shade the eyes from the white-hot sunlight; the compression of the lips +was due to a determination to admit none of the air, laden with alkali +dust, except through the nostrils. It grew in time into a perpetual +grimace, so that the expression of an old range rider is that of a man +steeling himself to pass through some grim ordeal. + +Now as they relaxed, Anthony perceived first of all that most of the +grimness passed away from the narrowed eyes and they lighted instead +with good-humoured banter, though of a weary nature. One by one, they +cast off ten years of age; the lines rubbed out; the jaws which had +thrust out grew normal; the leaning heads straightened and went back. + +They paid not the slightest attention to the newcomer, talking easily +among themselves, but Anthony was certain that at least some of them +were thinking of him. If they said nothing, their thoughts were the +more. + +In fact, in the meantime little Duffy had passed on to the next man, in +a side mutter, the significant phrase: "He knows!" It went from lip to +lip like a watchword passing along a line of sentinels. Each man heard +it imperturbably, completed the sentence he was speaking before, or +maintained his original silence through a pause, and then repeated it to +his right-hand neighbour. Their demeanour did not alter perceptibly, +except that the laughter, perhaps, became a little more uproarious, and +they were sitting straighter in their chairs, their eyes brighter. + +All they knew was that Drew had impressed on them that Bard must not +leave that room in command of his six-shooter or even of his hands. He +must be bound securely. The working out of the details of execution he +had left to their own ingenuity. It might have seemed a little thing to +do to greener fellows, but every one of these men was an experienced +cowpuncher, and like all old hands on the range they were perfectly +familiar with the amount of damage which a single armed man can do. + +The thing could be done, of course, but the point was to do it with the +minimum of danger. So they waited, and talked, and ate and always from +the corners of their eyes were conscious of the slightly built, +inoffensive man who sat beside Lawlor near the head of the table. In +appearance he was surely most innocuous, but Nash had spoken, and in +such matters they were all willing to take his word with a childlike +faith. + +So the meal went on, and the only sign, to the most experienced eye, was +that the chairs were placed a little far back from the edge of the +table, a most necessary condition when men may have to rise rapidly or +get at their holsters for a quick draw. + +Calamity Ben bearing a mighty dish of bread pudding, passed directly +behind the chair of the stranger. The whole table watched with a sudden +keenness, and they saw Bard turn, ever so slightly, just as Calamity +passed behind the chair. + +"I say," he said, "may I have a bit of hot water to put in this coffee?" + +"Sure," said Calamity, and went on, but the whole table knew that the +stranger was on his guard. + +The mutual suspicion gave a tenseness to the atmosphere, as if it were +charged with the electricity of a coming storm, a tingling waiting which +made the men prone to become silent and then talk again in fitful +outbursts. Or it might be said that it was like a glass full of +precipitate which only waits for the injection of a single unusual +substance before it settles to the bottom and leaves the remaining +liquid clear. It was for the unusual, then, that the entire assembly +waited, feeling momentarily that it must be coming, for the strain could +not endure. + +As for Bard, he stuck by his original apparent indifference. For he +still felt sure that the real William Drew was behind this elaborate +deception and the thing for which he waited was some revelation of the +hand of the master. The trumps which he felt he held was in being +forewarned; he could not see that the others knew his hand. + +He said to Lawlor: "I think a man named Nash works on this ranch. I +expected to see him at supper here." + +"Nash?" answered Lawlor. "Sure, he used to be foreman here. Ain't no +more. Nope--I couldn't stand for his lip. Didn't mind him getting fresh +till he tried to ride me. Then I turned him loose. Where did you meet +him?" + +"While I was riding in this direction." + +"Want to see him bad?" + +The other moistened his lips. + +"Rather! He killed my horse." + +A silence fell on these who were within hearing. They would not have +given equal attention to the story of the killing of a man. + +"How'd he get away with it?" + +"The Saverack was between us. Before I could get my gun out he was +riding out of range. I'll meet him and have another talk some day." + +"Well, the range ain't very small." + +"But my dear fellow, it's not nearly as big as my certainty of meeting +this--cur." + +There is something in a low, slow voice more thrilling than the thunder +of actual rage. Those who heard glanced to one another with thoughtful +eyes. They were thinking of Nash, and thinking of him with sympathy. + +Little Duffy, squat and thick-set, felt inspiration descend on him. He +turned to Bard on his left. + +"That ain't a full-size forty-five, is it--that one you're packin'?" + +"Doesn't it look it?" answered Bard. + +"Nope. Holster seems pretty small to me." + +"It's the usual gun, I'm sure," said Bard, and pulled the weapon from +the leather. + +Holding the butt loosely, his trigger finger hooked clear around the far +side of the guard, he showed the gun. + +"I was wrong," nodded Duffy unabashed, "that's the regular kind. Let's +have a look at it." + +And he stretched out his hand. No one would ever have guessed how +closely the table followed what now happened, for each man began talking +in a voice even louder than before. It was as if they sought to cover +the stratagem of Duffy with their noise. + +"There's nothing unusual about the gun," said Bard, "but I'd be glad to +let you have it except that I've formed a habit of never letting a +six-shooter get away from me. It's a foolish habit, I know, but I can't +lose it. If there's any part you'd like to see, just name it." + +"Thanks," answered Duffy. "I guess I've seen all I want of it." + +Calamity had failed; Duffy had failed. It began to look as if force of +downright numbers must settle the affair. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +SALLY BREAKS A MIRROR + +As Sally had remarked the night before, one does not pay much attention +to a toilet when one rises at 5 a.m. At least that is the rule, but +Sally, turning out with a groan in the chill, dark room, shut off the +alarm, lighted her lamp, and set about the serious task of dressing. A +woman, after all, is much like a diplomatic statesman; a hint along +certain lines is more to her than a sworn statement. + +She had secured a large mirror, and in front of this she laboured +patiently for a full ten minutes, twisting her hair this way and that, +and using the comb and brush vigorously. Now and then, as she worked, +she became aware that a fluff of hair rolling down low over her forehead +did amazing things to her face and brought her from Sally Fortune into +the strange dignity of a "lady." But she could not complete any of the +manoeuvres, no matter how promisingly they started. In the end she +dashed a handful of hairpins on the floor and wound the hair about her +head with a few swift turns. + +She studied the sullen, boyish visage which looked back at her. After +all, she would be unmercifully joked if she were to appear with her hair +grown suddenly fluffy and womanly--it would become impossible for her to +run the eating-place without the assistance of a man, and a fighting man +at that. So what was the use? She threw the mirror crashing on the +floor; it splintered in a thousand pieces. + +"After all," she murmured aloud, "do I want to be a woman?" + +The sullen mouth undoubtedly answered "No"; the wistful eyes undoubtedly +replied in another key. She shrugged the question away and stepped out +of her room toward the kitchen, whistling a tune to raise her spirits. + +"Late, Sally," said the cook, tossing another hot cake on the growing +pile which surmounted the warmer. + +"Sure; I busted my mirror," said Sally. + +The cook stared at her in such astonishment that he allowed a quantity +of dough to fall from the dish cupped in the hollow of his arm; it +overflowed the griddle-iron. + +"Blockhead!" shouted Sally. "Watch your step!" + +She resumed, when the dough had been rescued by somewhat questionable +means: "D'you think a girl can dress in the dark?" + +But the cook had had too much experience with his employer to press what +seemed a tender point. He confined his attention to the pancakes. + +"There ain't no fool worse than a he-fool," continued Sally bitterly. +"Which maybe you think a girl can dress without a mirror?" + +Since this taunt brought no response from her victim, she went on into +the eating-room. It was already filling, and the duties of her strenuous +day began. + +They continued without interruption hour after hour, for the popularity +of her restaurant had driven all competition out of Eldara, a result +which filled the pocket-book and fattened the bank account of Sally +Fortune, but loaded unnumbered burdens onto her strong shoulders. For +she could not hire a waiter to take her place; every man who came into +the eating-room expected to be served by the slim hands of Sally +herself, and he expected also some trifling repartee which would make +him pay his bill with a grin. + +The repartee dragged with Sally to-day, almost to sullenness, and when +she began to grow weary in the early afternoon, there was no reserve +strength on which she could fall back. She suddenly became aware that +she wanted support, aid, comfort. Finally she spilled a great armful of +"empties" down on the long drain-board of the sink, turned to the wall, +and buried her face in her hands. The cook, Bert, though he cast a +startled glance at her would not have dared to speak, after that +encounter of the morning, but a rather explosive sniff was too eloquent +an appeal to his manliness. + +His left sleeve having fallen, he rolled it back, tied the strings of +the apron tighter about his plump middle, and advanced to the battle. +His hand touched the shoulder of the girl. + +"Sally!" + +"Shut your face!" moaned a stifled voice. + +But he took his courage between his teeth and persisted. + +"Sally, somethin' is wrong." + +"Nothin' you can right, Fatty," said the same woe-stricken voice. + +"Sally, if somebody's been gettin' fresh with you--" + +Her arms jerked down; she whirled and faced him with clenched fists; +her eyes shining more brightly for the mist which was in them. + +"Fresh with me? Why, you poor, one-horned yearling, d'you think there's +anybody in Eldara man enough to get fresh with me?" + +Bert retreated a step; caution was a moving element in his nature. From +a vantage point behind a table, however, he ventured: "Then what is +wrong?" + +Her woe, apparently, was greater than her wrath. + +She said sadly: "I dunno, Bert. I ain't the man I used to be--I mean, +the woman." + +He waited, his small eyes gentle. What woman can altogether resist +sympathy, even from a fat man and a cook? Not even the redoubtable soul +of a Sally. + +She confessed: "I feel sort of hollow and gone--around the stomach, +Fatty." + +"Eat," suggested the cook. "I just took out a pie that would--" + +"But it ain't the stomach. It's like bein' hungry and wantin' no food. +Fatty, d'you think I'm sick?" + +"You look kind of whitish." + +"Fatty, I feel--" + +She hesitated, as though too great a confession were at her lips, but +she stumbled on: "I feel as if I was afraid of somethin', or someone." + +"That," said Bert confidently, "ain't possible. It's the stomach, Sally. +Something ain't agreed with you." + +She turned from him with a vague gesture of despair. + +"If this here feelin' is goin' to keep up--why, I wisht I was dead--I +wisht I was dead!" + +She went on to the swinging door, paused there to dab her eyes swiftly, +started to whistle a tune, and in this fashion marched back to the +eating-room. Fatty, turning back to the stove, shook his head; he was +more than ever convinced in his secret theory that all women are crazy. + +Sally found that a new man had entered, one whom she could not remember +having seen before. She went to him at once, for it seemed to her that +she would die, indeed, if she had to look much longer on the familiar, +unshaven faces of the other men in the room. + +"Anything you got," said the stranger, who was broad of hands and thick +of neck and he cast an anxious eye on her. "I hear you seen something of +a thinnish, dark feller named Bard." + +"What d'_you_ want with him?" asked Sally with dangerous calm. + +"I was aimin' to meet up with him. That's all." + +"Partner, if you want to stand in solid around here, don't let out that +you're a friend of his. He ain't none too popular; that's straight and +puttin' it nice and easy." + +"Which who said I was his friend?" said the other with heat. + +She turned away to the kitchen and reappeared shortly, bearing his meal. +The frown with which she departed had disappeared, and she was smiling +as brightly as ever while she arranged the dishes in front of him. He +paid no attention to the food. + +"Now," she said, resting both hands on the table and leaning so that she +could look him directly in the eye: "What's Bard done now? +Horse--gun-fighter--woman; which?" + +The other loosened the bandanna which circled his bull neck. + +"Woman," he said hoarsely, and the blood swelled his throat and face +with veins of purple. + +"Ah-h-h," drawled the girl, and straightening, she dropped both hands on +her hips. It was a struggle, but she managed to summon another smile. + +"Wife--sister--sweetheart?" + +The man stared dubiously on her, and Sally, mother to five hundred wild +rangers, knew the symptoms of a man eager for a confidant. She slipped +into the opposite chair. + +"It might be any of the three," she went on gently, "and I know because +I've seen him work." + +"Damn his soul!" growled the other by way of a prefix to his story. "It +ain't any of the three with me. This Bard--maybe he tried his hand with +you?" + +Whether it was rage or scorn that made her start and redden he could not +tell. + +"Me?" she repeated. "A tenderfoot get fresh with me? Stranger, you ain't +been long in Eldara or you wouldn't pull a bonehead like that." + +"'Scuse me. I was hopin' that maybe you took a fall out of him, that's +all." + +He studied the blue eyes. They had been tinted with ugly green a moment +before, but now they were clear, deep, dark, guileless blue. He could +not resist. The very nearness of the woman was like a gentle, cool hand +caressing his forehead and rubbing away the troubles. + +"It was like this," he began. "Me and Lizzie had been thick for a couple +of years and was jest waitin' till I'd corralled enough cash for a +start. Then the other day along comes this feller Bard with a queer way +of talkin' school language. Made you feel like you was readin' a bit out +of a dictionary jest to listen to him for a minute. Liz, she never +heard nothin' like it, I figure. She got all eyes and sat still and +listened. Bein' like that he plumb made a fool out of Liz. Kidded her +along and wound up by kissing her good-bye. I didn't see none of this; I +jest heard about it later. When I come up and started talkin' jest +friendly with Liz she got sore and passed me the frosty stare. I didn't +think she could be doin' more than kiddin' me a bit, so I kept right on +and it ended up with Liz sayin' that all was over between us." + +He paused on his tragedy, set his teeth over a sigh, and went on: "The +feller ain't no good. I know that from a chap that come to the house a +few hours after Bard left. Nash was his name--" + +"What!" + +"Nash. Feller built husky around the shoulders--looks like a fighter. +Know him?" + +"Pretty well. D'you say he come to your house right after Bard left it?" + +"Yep. Why?" + +"How long ago was this?" + +"About three days." + +"Three days?" + +"What's wrong?" + +"Nothin'." + +"You look like you was goin' to murder some one, lady." + +Her laughter ended with a jerk and jar. + +"Maybe I am. G'wan! Tell me some more about what Nash said." + +"Why, he didn't say much. Hinted around that maybe Bard had walked off +with the piebald hoss he was ridin'." + +"That's a lie." + +"Lady," said the other a little coldly, "you say that like you was a +friend of Bard's." + +"Me? There ain't nobody around these parts man enough to say to my face +that I'm a friend of that tenderfoot." + +"I'm glad of that. My name's Ralph Boardman." + +"I'm Sally Fortune." + +"Sure; I've heard of you--a lot. Say, you couldn't tip me off where I +could hit the trail of Bard?" + +"Dunno. Wait; lemme see." + +She studied, with closed eyes. What she was thinking was that if Nash +had been so close to Bard three days before he was surely on the trail +of the tenderfoot and certainly that meeting in her place had not been a +casual one. She set her teeth, thinking of the promise Nash had given to +her. Undoubtedly he had laughed at it afterward. And now Bard probably +lay stretched on his back somewhere among the silent hills looking up to +the pitiless brightness of the sky with eyes which could never shut. + +The hollow feeling of which Sally had complained to Bert grew to a +positive ache, and the tears stood up closer to her eyes. + +"Wait around town," she said in a changed voice. "I think I heard him +say something of riding out, but he'll be back before long. That's the +only tip I can give you, partner." + +So she rose and hurried back to the kitchen. + +"Bert," she said, "I'm off for the rest of the day. You got to handle +the place." + +He panted: "But the heavy rush--it ain't started yet." + +"It's started for me." + +"What d'you mean?" + +"Nothin'. I'm on my way. S'long, Bert. Back in the mornin' bright and +early." + +If she could not find Bard at least she could find Nash at the ranch of +Drew, and in that direction she headed her racing horse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +THE SHOW + +Jansen, the big Swede, was the first to finish his meal in Drew's +dining-room. For that matter, he was always first. He ate with +astonishing expedition, lowering his head till that tremendous, +shapeless mouth was close to the plate and then working knife and fork +alternately with an unfaltering industry. To-night, spurred on by a +desire to pass through this mechanical effort and be prepared for the +coming action, his speed was something truly marvellous. He did not +appear to eat; the food simply vanished from the plate; it was absorbed +like a mist before the wind. While the others were barely growing +settled in their places, Jansen was already through. + +He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, produced Durham and papers, +and proceeded to light up. Lawlor, struggling still to re-establish +himself in the eyes of Bard as the real William Drew, seized the +opportunity to exert a show of authority. He smashed his big fist on +the table. + +"Jansen!" he roared. + +"Eh?" grunted the Swede. + +"Where was you raised?" + +"Me?" + +"You, square-head." + +"Elvaruheimarstadhaven." + +"Are you sneezin' or talkin' English?" + +Jansen, irritated, bellowed: "Elvaruheimarstadhaven! That's where I was +born." + +"That's where you was born? Elvaru--damn such a language! No wonder you +Swedes don't know nothin'. It takes all your time learnin' how to talk +your lingo. But if you ain't never had no special trainin' in manners, +I'm goin' to make a late start with you now. Put out that cigarette!" + +The pale eyes of Jansen stared, fascinated; the vast mouth fell agape. + +"Maybe," he began, and then finished weakly: "I be damned!" + +"There ain't no reasonable way of doubtin' that unless you put out that +smoke. Hear me?" + +Shorty Kilrain, coming from the kitchen, grinned broadly. Having felt +the lash of discipline himself, he was glad to see it fall in another +place. He continued his gleeful course around that side of the table. + +And big Jansen slowly, imperturbably, raised the cigarette and inhaled a +mighty cloud of smoke which issued at once in a rushing, fine blue mist, +impelled by a snort. + +"Maybe," he rumbled, completing his thought, "maybe you're one damn +fool!" + +"I'm going to learn you who's boss in these parts," boomed Lawlor. "Put +out that cigarette! Don't you know no better than to smoke at the +table?" + +Jansen pushed back his chair and started to rise. There was no doubt as +to his intentions; they were advertised in the dull and growing red +which flamed in his face. But Kilrain, as though he had known such a +moment would come, caught the Swede by the shoulders and forced him back +into the chair. As he did so he whispered something in the ear of +Jansen. + +"Let him go!" bellowed Lawlor. "Let him come on. Don't hold him. I ain't +had work for my hands for five years. I need exercise, I do." + +The mouth of Jansen stirred, but no words came. A hopeless yearning was +in his eyes. But he dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel. + +"I thought," growled Lawlor, "that you knew your master, but don't make +no mistake again. Speakin' personal, I don't think no more of knockin' +down a Swede than I do of flickin' the ashes off'n a cigar." + +He indulged in a side glance at Bard to see if the latter were properly +impressed, but Anthony was staring blankly straight before him, unable, +to all appearances, to see anything of what was happening. + +"Kilrain," went on Lawlor, "trot out some cigars. You know where they're +kept." + +Kilrain falling to the temptation, asked: "Where's the key to the +cabinet?" + +For Drew kept his tobacco in a small cabinet, locked because of long +experience with tobacco-loving employees. Lawlor started to speak, +checked himself, fumbled through his pockets, and then roared: "Smash +the door open. I misplaced the key." + +No semblance of a smile altered the faces of the cowpunchers around the +table, but glances of vague meaning were interchanged. Kilrain +reappeared almost at once, bearing a large box of cigars under each arm. + +"The eats bein' over," announced Lawlor, "we can now light up. Open them +boxes, Shorty. Am I goin' to work on you the rest of my life teachin' +you how to serve cigars?" + +Kilrain sighed deeply, but obeyed, presenting the open boxes in turn to +Bard, who thanked him, and to Lawlor, who bit off the end of his smoke +continued: "A match, Kilrain." + +And he waited, swelling with pleasure, his eyes fixed upon space. +Kilrain lighted a match and held it for the two in turn. Two rows of +waiting, expectant eyes were turned from the whole length, of the table, +toward the cigars. + +"Shall I pass on the cigars?" suggested Bard. + +"_These_ smokes?" breathed Lawlor. "Waste 'em on common hands? Partner, +you ain't serious, are you?" + +A breath like the faint sighing of wind reached them; the cowpunchers +were resigned, and started now to roll their Durham. But it seemed as if +a chuckle came from above; it was only some sound in the gasoline lamp, +a big fixture which hung suspended by a slender chain from the centre of +the ceiling and immediately above the table. + +"Civilizin' cowpunchers," went on Lawlor, tilting back in his chair and +bracing his feet against the edge of the table, "civilizin' cowpunchers +is worse'n breakin' mustangs. They's some that say it can't be done. +But look at this crew. Do they look like rough uns?" + +A stir had passed among the cowpunchers and solemn stares of hate +transfixed Lawlor, but he went on: "I'm askin' you, do these look +rough?" + +"I should say," answered Bard courteously, "that you have a pretty +experienced lot of cattle-men." + +"Experienced? Well, they'll pass. They've had experience with bar whisky +and talkin' to their cards at poker, but aside from bein' pretty much +drunks and crookin' the cards, they ain't anything uncommon. But when I +got 'em they was wild, they was. Why, if I'd talked like this in front +of 'em they'd of been guns pulled. But look at 'em now. I ask you: Look +at 'em now! Ain't they tame? They hear me call 'em what they are, but +they don't even bat an eye. Yes, sir, I've tamed 'em. They took a lot of +lickin', but now they're tamed. Hello!" + +For through the door stalked a newcomer. He paused and cast a curious +eye up the table to Lawlor. + +"What the hell!" he remarked naively. "Where's the chief?" + +"Fired!" bellowed Lawlor without a moment of hesitation. + +"Who fired him?" asked the new man, with an expectant smile, like one +who waits for the point of a joke, but he caught a series of strange +signals from men at the table and many a broad wink. + +"I fired him, Gregory," answered Lawlor. "I fired Nash!" + +He turned to Bard. + +"You see," he said rather weakly, "the boys is used to callin' Nash 'the +chief.'" + +"Ah, yes," said Bard, "I understand." + +And Lawlor felt that he did understand, and too well. + +Gregory, in the meantime, silenced by the mysterious signs from his +fellow cowpunchers, took his place and began eating without another +word. No one spoke to him, but as if he caught the tenseness of the +situation, his eyes finally turned and glanced up the table to Bard. + +It was easy for Anthony to understand that glance. It is the sort of +look which the curious turn on the man accused of a great crime and +sitting in the court room guilty. His trial in silence had continued +until he was found guilty. Apparently, he was now to be both judged and +executed at the same time. + +There could not be long delay. The entrance of Gregory had almost been +the precipitant of action, and though it had been smoothed over to an +extent, still the air was each moment more charged with suspense. The +men were lighting their second cigarette. With each second it grew +clearer that they were waiting for something. And as if thoughtful of +the work before them, they no longer talked so fluently. + +Finally there was no talk at all, save for sporadic outbursts, and the +blue smoke and the brown curled up slowly in undisturbed drifts toward +the ceiling until a bright halo formed around the gasoline lamp. A +childish thought came to Bard that where the smoke was so thick the fire +could not be long delayed. + +A second form appeared in the doorway, lithe, graceful, and the light +made her hair almost golden. + +"Ev'nin', fellers," called Sally jauntily. "Hello, Lawlor; what you +doin' at the head of the table?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +THE LAMP + +The bluff was ended. It was as if the wind blew a cloud suddenly from +the face of the sun and let the yellow sunlight pour brightly over the +world; so everyone in the room at the voice of Sally knew that the time +had come for action. There was no vocal answer to her, but each man rose +slowly in his place, his gun naked in his hand, and every face was +turned to Bard. + +"Gentlemen," he said in his soft voice, "I see that my friend Lawlor has +not wasted his lessons in manners. At least you know enough to rise when +a lady enters the room." + +His gun, held at the hip, pointed straight down the table to the burly +form of Jansen, but his eyes, like those of a pugilist, seemed to be +taking in every face at the table, and each man felt in some subtle +manner that the danger would fall first on him. They did not answer, but +hands were tightening around revolver butts. + +Lawlor moved back, pace by pace, his revolver shaking in his hand. + +"But," went on Bard, "you are all facing me. Is it possible?" + +He laughed. + +"I knew that Mr. Drew was very anxious to receive me with courtesy; I +did not dream that he would be able to induce so many men to take care +of me." + +And Sally Fortune, bracing herself against the wall with one hand, and +in the capable grasp of the other a six-gun balanced, stared in growing +amazement on the scene, and shuddered at the silences. + +"Bard," she called, "what have I done?" + +"You've started a game," he answered, "which I presume we've all been +waiting to play. What about it, boys? I hope you're well paid; I'd hate +to die a cheap death." + +A voice, deep and ringing, sounded close at hand, almost within the +room, and from a direction which Bard could not locate. + +"Don't harm him if you can help it. But keep him in that room!" + +Bard stepped back a pace till his shoulders touched the wall. + +"Sirs," he said, "if you keep me here you will most certainly have to +harm me." + +A figure ran around the edge of the crowd and stood beside him. + +"Stand clear of me, Sally," he muttered, much moved. "Stand away. This +is a man's work." + +"The work of a pack of coyotes!" she cried shrilly. "What d'ye mean?" + +She turned on them fiercely. + +"Are you goin' to murder a tenderfoot among you? One that ain't done no +real harm? I don't believe my eyes. You, there, Shorty Kilrain, I've +waited on you with my own hands. You've played the man with me. Are you +goin' to play the dog now? Jansen, you was tellin' me about a blue-eyed +girl in Sweden; have you forgot about her now? And Calamity Ben! My God, +ain't there a man among you to step over here and join the two of us?" + +They were shaken, but the memory of Drew quelled them. + +"They's no harm intended him, on my honour, Sally," said Lawlor. "All +he's got to do is give up his gun--and--and"--he finished weakly--"let +his hands be tied." + +"Is that all?" said Sally scornfully. + +"Don't follow me, Sally," said Bard. "Stay out of this. Boys, you may +have been paid high, but I don't think you've been paid high enough to +risk taking a chance with me. If you put me out with the first shot that +ends it, of course, but the chances are that I'll be alive when I hit +the floor, and if I am, I'll have my gun working--and I won't miss. One +or two of you are going to drop." + +He surveyed them with a quick glance which seemed to linger on each +face. + +"I don't know who'll go first. But now I'm going to walk straight for +that door, and I'm going out of it." + +He moved slowly, deliberately toward the door, around the table. Still +they did not shoot. + +"Bard!" commanded the voice which had spoken from nowhere before. "Stop +where you are. Are you fool enough to think that I'll let you go?" + +"Are you William Drew?" + +"I am, and you are----" + +"The son of John Bard. Are you in this house?" + +"I am; Bard, listen to me for thirty seconds----" + +"Not for three. Sally, go out of this room and through that door." + +There was a grim command in his voice. It started her moving against her +will. She paused and looked back with an imploring gesture. + +"Go on," he repeated. + +And she passed out of the door and stood there, a glimmering figure +against the night. Still there was not a shot fired, though all those +guns were trained on Bard. + +"You've got me Drew," he called, "but I've got you, and your +hirelings--all of you, and I'm going to take you to hell with me--to +hell!" + +He jerked his gun up and fired, not at a man, for the bullet struck the +thin chain which held the gasoline lamp suspended, struck it with a +clang, and it rushed down to the table. It struck, but not with the loud +explosion which Bard had expected. There was a dull report, as of a shot +fired at a great distance, the scream of Sally from the door, and then +liquid fire spurted from the lamp across the table, whipped in a flare +to the ceiling, and licked against the walls. It shot to all sides but +it shot high, and every man was down on his face. + +Anthony, scarcely believing that he was still alive, rushed for the +door, with a cry of agony ringing in his ears from the voice beyond the +room. One man in all that crowd was near enough or had the courage to +obey the master even to the uttermost. The gaunt form of Calamity Ben +blocked the doorway in front of Bard, blocked it with poised revolver. + +"Halt!" he yelled. + +But the other rushed on. Calamity whipped down the gun and fired, but +even before the trigger was pulled he was sagging toward the floor, for +Bard had shot to kill. Over the prostrate form of the cowpuncher he +leaped, and into the night, where the white face of Sally greeted him. + +Outside the red inferno of that room, as if the taste of blood had +maddened him, he raised his arms and shouted, like one crying a wild +prayer: "William Drew! William Drew! Come out to me!" + +Small, strong hands gripped his wrists and turned him away from the +house. + +"You fool!" cried Sally. "Ride for it! You've raised your hell at +last--I knew you would!" + +Red light flared in all the windows of the dining-room; shouts and +groans and cursing poured out of them. Bard turned and followed her out +toward the stable on the run, and he heard her moaning as she ran: "I +knew! I knew!" + +She mounted her horse, which was tethered near the barn. He chose at +random the first horse he reached, a grey, threw on his back the saddle +which hung from the peg behind, mounted, and they were off through the +night. No thought, no direction; but only in blind speed there seemed to +be the hope of a salvation. + +A mile, two miles dropped behind them, and then in an open stretch, for +he had outridden her somewhat, Anthony reined back, caught the bridle of +her horse, and pulled it down to a sharp trot. + +"Why have you come?" + +Their faces were so close that even through the night he could see the +grim set of her lips. + +"Ain't you raised your hell--the hell you was hungry to raise? Don't you +need help?" + +"What I've done is my own doing. I'll take the burden of it." + +"You'll take a halter for it, that's what you'll take. The whole +range'll rise for this. You're marked already. Everywhere you've gone +you've made an enemy. They'll be out to get you--Nash--Boardman--the +whole gang." + +"Let 'em come. I'd do this all over again." + +"Born gunman, eh? Bard, you ain't got a week to live." + +It was fierceness; it was a reproach rather than sorrow. + +"Then let me go my own way. Why do you follow, Sally?" + +"D'you know these mountains?" + +"No, but----" + +"Then they'd run you down in twelve hours. Where'll you head for?" + +He said, as the first thought entered his mind: "I'll go for the old +house that Drew has on the other side of the range." + +"That ain't bad. Know the short cut?" + +"What cut?" + +"You can make it in five hours over one trail. But of course you don't +know. Nobody but old Dan and me ever knowed it. Let go my bridle and +ride like hell." + +She jerked the reins away from him and galloped off at full speed. He +followed. + +"Sally!" he called. + +But she kept straight ahead, and he followed, shouting, imploring her to +go back. Finally he settled to the chase, resolved on overtaking her. It +was no easy task, for she rode like a centaur, and she knew the way. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +NASH STARTS THE FINISH + +Through the windows and the door the cowpunchers fled from the red +spurt of the flames, each man for himself, except Shorty Kilrain, who +stooped, gathered the lanky frame of Calamity Ben into his arms, and +staggered out with his burden. The great form of William Drew loomed +through the night. + +His hand on the shoulder of Shorty, he cried: "Is he badly burned?" + +"Shot," said Kilrain bitterly, "by the tenderfoot; done for." + +It was strange to hear the big voice go shrill with pain. + +"Shot? By Anthony? Give him to me." + +Kilrain lowered his burden to the ground. + +"You've got him murdered. Ain't you through with him? Calamity, he was +my pal!" + +But the big man thrust him aside and knelt by the stricken cowpuncher. + +He commanded: "Gather the boys; form a line of buckets from the pump; +fight that fire. It hasn't a hold on the house yet." + +The habit of obedience persisted in Kilrain. Under the glow of the fire, +excited by the red light, the other man stood irresolute, eager for +action, but not knowing what to do. A picture came back to him of a ship +labouring in a storm; the huddling men on the deck; the mate on the +bridge, shrieking his orders through a megaphone. He cupped his hands at +his mouth and began to bark orders. + +They obeyed on the run. Some rushed for the kitchen and secured buckets; +two manned the big pump and started a great gush of water; in a moment a +steady stream was being flung by the foremost men of the line against +the smoking walls and even the ceiling of the dining-room. So far it was +the oil itself, which had made most of the flame and smoke, and now, +although the big table was on fire, the main structure of the house was +hardly touched. + +They caught it in time and worked with a cheer, swinging the buckets +from hand to hand, shouting as the flames fell little by little until +the floor of the room was awash, the walls gave back clouds of steam, +and the only fire was that which smouldered along the ruined table. Even +this went out, hissing, at last, and they came back with blackened, +singed faces to Calamity and Drew. + +The rancher had torn away the coat and shirt of the wounded man, and +now, with much labour, was twisting a tight bandage around his chest. At +every turn Calamity groaned feebly. Kilrain dropped beside his partner, +taking the head between his hands. + +"Calamity--pal," he said, "how'd you let a tenderfoot, a damned +tenderfoot, do this?" + +The other sighed: "I dunno. I had him covered. I should have sent him to +hell. But sure shootin' is better'n fast shootin'. He nailed me fair and +square while I was blockin' him at the door." + +"How d'you feel?" + +"Done for, Shorty, but damned glad that-----" + +His voice died away in a horrible whisper and bubbles of red foam rose +to his lips. + +"God!" groaned Shorty, and then called loudly, as if the strength of his +voice might recall the other, "Calamity!" + +The eyes of Calamity rolled up; the wide lips twisted over formless +words; there was no sound from his mouth. Someone was holding a lantern +whose light fell full on the silent struggle. It was Nash, his habitual +sneer grown more malevolent than ever. + +"What of the feller that done it, Shorty?" he suggested. + +"So help me God," said the cattleman, with surprising softness, "the +range ain't big enough to keep him away from me." + +Drew, completing his bandage, said, "That's enough of such talk, Nash. +Let it drop there. Here, Kilrain, take his feet. Help me into the house +with him." + +They moved in, the rest trailing behind like sheep after a bell-weather, +and it was astonishing to see the care with which big Drew handled his +burden, placing it at last on his own four-poster bed. + +"The old man's all busted up," said little Duffy to Nash. "I'd never of +guessed he was so fond of Calamity." + +"You're a fool," answered Nash. "It ain't Calamity he cares about." + +"Then what the devil is it?" + +"I dunno. We're goin' to see some queer things around here." + +Drew, having disposed of the wounded man, carefully raising his head on +a pillow, turned to the others. + +"Who saw Ben shot?" + +"I did," said Kilrain, who was making his way to the door. + +"Come back here. Are you sure you saw the shot fired?" + +"I seen the tenderfoot--damn his eyes!--whip up his gun and take a snap +shot while he was runnin' for the door where Calamity stood." + +Nash raised his lantern high, so that the light fell full on the face of +Drew. The rancher was more grey than ever. + +He said, with almost an appeal in his voice: "Mightn't it have been one +of the other boys, shooting at random?" + +The tone of Kilrain raised and grew ugly. + +"Are you tryin' to cover the tenderfoot, Drew?" + +The big man made a fierce gesture. + +"Why should I cover him?" + +"Because you been actin' damned queer," answered Nash. + +"Ah, you're here again, Nash? I know you hate Bard because he was too +much for you." + +"He got the start of me, but I'll do a lot of finishing." + +"Kilrain," called Drew, "you're Calamity's best friend. Ride for Eldara +and bring back Dr. Young. Quick! We're going to pull Ben through." + +"Jest a waste of time," said Nash coolly. "He's got one foot in hell +already." + +"You've said too much, Nash. Kilrain, are you going?" + +"I'll stop for the doctor at Eldara, but then I'll keep on riding." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothin'." + +"I'll go with you," said Nash, and turned with the other. + +"Stop!" called Drew. "Boys, I know what you have planned; but let the +law take care of this. Remember that we were the aggressors against +young Bard. He came peaceably into this house and I tried to hold him +here. What would you have done in his place?" + +"They's a dozen men know how peaceable he is," said Nash drily. +"Wherever he's gone on the range he's raised hell. He's cut out for a +killer, and Glendin in Eldara knows it." + +"I'll talk to Glendin. In the meantime you fellows keep your hands off +Bard. In the first place because if you take the law into your own hands +you'll have me against you--understand?" + +Kilrain and Nash glowered at him a moment, and then backed through the +door. + +As they hurried for the barn Kilrain asked: "What makes the chief act +soft to that hell-raiser?" + +"If you have a feller cut out for your own meat," answered Nash, "d'you +want to have any one else step in and take your meal away?" + +"But you and me, Steve, we'll get this bird." + +"We'll get Glendin behind us first." + +"Why him?" + +"Play safe. Glendin can swear us in as deputies to--'apprehend,' as he +calls it, this Bard. Apprehendin' a feller like Bard simply means to +shoot him down and ask him to come along afterward, see?" + +"Nash, you got a great head. You ought to be one of these lawyers. There +ain't nothin' you can't find a way out of. But will Glendin do it?" + +"He'll do what I ask him to do." + +"Friend of yours?" + +"Better'n a friend." + +"Got something on him?" + +"These here questions, they ain't polite, Shorty," grinned Nash. + +"All right. You do the leadin' in this game and I'll jest follow suit. +But lay your course with nothin' but the tops'ls flyin', because I've +got an idea we're goin' to hit a hell of a storm before we get back to +port, Steve." + +"For my part," answered Nash, "I'm gettin' used to rough weather." + +They saddled their horses and cut across the hills straight for Eldara. +Kilrain spurred viciously, and the roan had hard work keeping up. + +"Hold in," called Nash after a time. "Save your hoss, Shorty. This ain't +no short trail. D'you notice the hosses when we was in the barn?" + +"Nope." + +"Bard took Duffy's grey, and the grey can go like the devil. +Hoss-liftin'? That's another little mark on Bard's score." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +TO "APPREHEND" A MAN + +As if to make up for its silence of the blast when the two reached it +late the night before, Eldara was going full that evening. Kilrain went +straight for Doc Young, to bring him later to join Nash at the house of +Deputy Glendin. + +The front of the deputy's house was utterly dark, but Nash, unabashed, +knocked loudly on the door, and went immediately to the rear of the +place. He was in time to see a light wink out at an upper window of the +two-story shack. He slipped back, chuckling, among the trees, and waited +until the back door slammed and a dark figure ran noiselessly down the +steps and out into the night. Then he returned, still chuckling, to the +front of the house, and banged again on the door. + +A window above him raised at length and a drawling voice, apparently +overcome with sleep, called down: "What's up in Eldara?" + +Nash answered: "Everything's wrong. Deputy Glendin, he sits up in a back +room playin' poker and hittin' the redeye. No wonder Eldara's goin' to +hell!" + +A muffled cursing rolled down to the cowpuncher, and then a sharp +challenge: "Who's there?" + +"Nash, you blockhead!" + +"Nash!" cried a relieved voice, "come in; confound you. I thought--no +matter what I thought. Come in!" + +Nash opened the door and went up the stairs. The deputy met him, clad in +a bathrobe and carrying a lamp. Under the bathrobe he was fully dressed. + +"Thought your game was called, eh?" grinned the cattleman. + +"Sure. I had a tidy little thing in black-jack running and was pulling +in the iron boys, one after another. Why didn't you tip me off? You +could have sat in with us." + +"Nope; I'm here on business." + +"Let's have it." + +He led the way into a back room and placed the lamp on a table littered +with cards and a black bottle looming in the centre. + +"Drink?" + +"Nope. I said I came on business." + +"What kind?" + +"Bard." + +"I thought so." + +"I want a posse." + +"What's he done?" + +"Killed Calamity Ben at Drew's place, started a fire that near burned +the house, and lifted Duffy's hoss." + +Glendin whistled softly. + +"Nice little start." + +"Sure, and it's just a beginnin' for this Bard." + +"I'll go out to Drew's place and see what he's done." + +"And then start after him with a gang?" + +"Sure." + +"By that time he'll be a thousand miles away." + +"Well?" + +"I'm running this little party. Let me get a gang together. You can +swear 'em in and put me in charge. I'll guarantee to get him before +morning." + +Glendin shook his head. + +"It ain't legal, Steve. You know that." + +"The hell with legality." + +"That's what you say; but I got to hold my job." + +"You'll do your part by goin' to Drew's place with Doc Young. He'll be +here with Shorty Kilrain in a minute." + +"And let you go after Bard?" + +"Right." + +"Far's I know, you may jest shoot him down and then come back and say +you done it because he resisted arrest." + +"Well?" + +"You admit that's what you want, Steve?" + +"Absolute." + +"Well, partner, it can't be done. That ain't apprehendin' a man. It's +jest plain murder." + +"D'you think you could ever catch that bird alive?" + +"Dunno, I'd try." + +"Never in a thousand years." + +"He don't know the country. He'll travel in a circle and I'll ride him +down." + +"He's got somebody with him that knows the country better'n you or me." + +"Who?" + +The face of Nash twisted into an ugly grimace. + +"Sally Fortune." + +"The hell!" + +"It is; but it's true." + +"It ain't possible. Sally ain't the kind to make a fool of herself +about any man, let alone a gun-fighter." + +"That's what I thought, but I seen her back up this Bard ag'in' a +roomful of men. And she'll keep on backin' him till he's got his toes +turned up." + +"That's another reason for you to get Bard, eh? Well, I can't send you +after him, Nash. That's final." + +"Not a bit. I know too much about you, Glendin." + +The glance of the other raised slowly, fixed on Nash, and then lowered +to the floor. He produced papers and Durham, rolled and lighted his +cigarette, and inhaled a long puff. + +"So that's the game, Steve?" + +"I hate to do it." + +"Let that go. You'll run the limit on this?" + +"Listen, Glendin. I've got to get this Bard. He's out-ridden me, +out-shot me, out-gamed me, out-lucked me, out-guessed me--and taken +Sally. He's mine. He b'longs all to me. D'you see that?" + +"I'm only seein' one thing just now." + +"I know. You think I'm double-crossin' you. Maybe I am, but I'm +desperate, Glendin." + +"After all," mused the deputy, "you'd be simply doin' work I'd have to +do later. You're right about this Bard. He'll never be taken alive." + +"Good ol' Glendin. I knew you'd see light. I'll go out and get the boys +I want in ten minutes. Wait here. Shorty and Doc Young will come in a +minute. One thing more: when you get to Drew's place you'll find him +actin' queer." + +"What about?" + +"I dunno why. It's a bad mess. You see, he's after this Bard himself, +the way I figure it, and he wants him left alone. He'd raise hell if he +knew a posse was after the tenderfoot." + +"Drew's a bad one to get against me." + +"I know. You think I'm double-crossin'?" + +"I'll do it. But this squares all scores between us, Steve?" + +"Right. It leaves the debt on my side, and you know I've never dodged an +I.O.U. Drew may talk queer. He'll tell you that Bard done all that work +in self-defence." + +"Did he?" + +"The point is he killed a man and stole a hoss. No matter what comes of +it, he's got to be arrested, don't he?" + +"And shot down while 'resistin' arrest'? Steve, I'd hate to have you out +for me like this." + +"But you won't listen to Drew?" + +"Not this one time. But, Lord, man, I hate to face him if he's on the +warpath. Who'll you take with you?" + +"Shorty, of course. He was Calamity Ben's pal. The rest will be--don't +laugh--Butch Conklin and his gang." + +"Butch!" + +"Hold yourself together. That's what I mean--Butch Conklin." + +"After you dropped him the other night?" + +"Self-defence, and he knows it. I can find Butch, and I can make him go +with me. Besides, he's out for Bard himself." + +The deputy said with much meaning: "You can do a lot of queer things, +Nash." + +"Forget it, Glendin." + +"I will for a while. D'you really think I can let you take out Butch and +his gunmen ag'in' Bard? Why, they're ten times worse'n the tenderfoot." + +"Maybe, but there's nothin' proved ag'in' 'em--nothin' but a bit of +cattle-liftin', maybe, and things like that. The point is, they're all +hard men, and with 'em along I can't help but get Bard." + +"Murder ain't proved on Butch and his men, but it will be before long." + +"Wait till it's proved. In the meantime use em all." + +"You've a long head, Nash." + +"Glendin, I'm makin' the biggest play of my life. I'm off to find Butch. +You'll stand firm with Drew?" + +"I won't hear a word he says." + +"S'long! Be back in ten minutes. Wait for me." + +He was as good as his word. Even before the ten minutes had elapsed he +was back, and behind followed a crew of heavy thumping boots up the +stairs of Glendin's house and into the room where he sat with Dr. Young +and Shorty Kilrain. They rose, but not from respect, when Nash entered +with Conklin and his four ill-famed followers behind. + +The soiled bandage on the head of Butch was far too thick to allow his +hat to sit in its normal position. It was perched high on top, and +secured in place by a bit of string which passed from side to side under +the chin. Behind him came Lovel, an almost albino type with +straw-coloured hair and eyes bleached and passionless; the vacuous smile +was never gone from his lips. + +More feared and more hated than Conklin himself was Isaacs. The latter, +always fastidious, wore a blue-striped vest, without a coat to obscure +it, and about his throat was knotted a flaming vermilion necktie, +fastened in place with a diamond stickpin--obviously the spoil of some +recent robbery. Glendin, watching, ground his teeth. + +McNamara followed. He had been a squatter, but his family had died of a +fever, and McNamara's mind had been unsettled ever since; whisky had +finished the work of sending him on the downward path with Conklin's +little crew of desperadoes. Men shrank from facing those too-bright, +wandering eyes, yet it was from pity almost as much as horror. + +Finally came Ufert. He was merely a round-faced boy of nineteen, proud +of the distinguished bad company he kept. He was that weak-minded type +which is only strong when it becomes wholly evil. With a different +leadership he would have become simply a tobacco-chewing hanger-on at +cross-roads saloons and general merchandise stores. As it was, feeling +dignified by the brotherhood of crime into which he had been admitted as +a full member, and eager to prove his qualifications, he was as +dangerous as any member of the crew. + +The three men who were already in the room had been prepared by Glendin +for this new arrival, but the fact was almost too much for their +credence. Consequently they rose, and Dr. Young muttered at the ear of +Glendin: "Is it possible, Deputy Glendin, that you're going to use these +fellows?" + +"A thief to catch a thief," whispered Glendin in reply. + +He said aloud: "Butch, I've been looking for you for a long time, but I +really never expected to see you quite as close as this." + +"You've said it," grinned Butch, "I ain't been watchin' for you real +close, but now that I see you, you look more or less like a man should +look. H'ware ye, Glendin?" + +He held out his hand, but the deputy, shifting his position, seemed to +overlook the grimy proffered palm. + +"You fellows know that you're wanted by the law," he said, frowning on +them. + +A grim meaning rose in the vacuous eye of Lovel; Isaacs caressed his +diamond pin, smiling in a sickly fashion; McNamara's wandering stare +fixed and grew unhumanly bright; Ufert openly dropped his hand on his +gun-butt and stood sullenly defiant. + +"You know that you're wanted, and you know why," went on Glendin, "but +I've decided to give you a chance to prove that you're white men and +useful citizens. Nash has already told you what we want. It's work for +seven men against one, but that one man is apt to give you all plenty +to do. If you are--successful"--he stammered a little over the right +word--"what you have done in the past will be forgotten. Hold up your +right hands and repeat after me." + +And they repeated the oath after him in a broken, drawling chorus, +stumbling over the formal, legal phraseology. + +He ended, and then: "Nash, you're in charge of the gang. Do what you +want to with them, and remember that you're to get Bard back in town +unharmed--if possible." + +Butch Conklin smiled, and the same smile spread grimly from face to face +among the gang. Evidently this point had already been elucidated to them +by Nash, who now mustered them out of the house and assembled them on +their horses in the street below. + +"Which way do we travel?" asked Shorty Kilrain, reining close beside the +leader, as though he were anxious to disestablish any relationship with +the rest of the party. + +"Two ways," answered Nash. "Of course I don't know what way Bard headed, +because he's got the girl with him, but I figure it this way: if a +tenderfoot knows any part of the range at all, he'll go in that +direction after he's in trouble. I've seen it work out before. So I +think that Bard may have ridden straight for the old Drew place on the +other side of the range. I know a short cut over the hills; we can reach +there by morning. Kilrain, you'll go there with me. + +"It may be that Bard will go near the old place, but not right to it. +Chances may be good that he'll put up at some place near the old +ranchhouse, but not right on the spot. Jerry Wood, he's got a house +about four or five miles to the north of Drew's old ranch. Butch, you +take your men and ride for Wood's place. Then switch south and ride for +Partridge's store; if we miss him at Drew's old house we'll go on and +join you at Partridge's store and then double back. He'll be somewhere +inside that circle and Eldara, you can lay to that. Now, boys, are your +hosses fresh?" + +They were. + +"Then ride, and don't spare the spurs. Hoss flesh is cheaper'n your own +hides." + +The cavalcade separated and galloped in two directions through the town +of Eldara. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +NOTHING NEW + +Glendin and Dr. Young struck out for the ranch of William Drew, but they +held a moderate pace, and it was already grey dawn before they arrived; +yet even at that hour several windows of the house were lighted. They +were led directly to Drew's room. + +The big man welcomed them at the door with a hand raised for silence. He +seemed to have aged greatly during the night, but between the black +shadows beneath and the shaggy brows above, his eyes gleamed more +brightly than ever. About his mouth the lines of resolution were worn +deep by his vigil. + +"He seems to be sleeping rather well--though you hear his breathing?" + +It was a soft, but ominously rattling sound. + +"Through the lungs," said the doctor instantly. + +The cowpuncher was completely covered, except for his head and feet. On +the latter, oddly enough, were still his grimy boots, blackening the +white sheets on which they rested. + +"I tried to work them off--you see the laces are untied," explained +Drew, "but the poor fellow recovered consciousness at once, and +struggled to get his feet free. He said that he wants to die with his +boots on." + +"You tried his pulse and his temperature?" whispered the doctor. + +"Yes. The temperature is not much above normal, the pulse is extremely +rapid and very faint. Is that a bad sign?" + +"Very bad." + +Drew winced and caught his breath so sharply that the others stared at +him. It might have been thought that he had just heard his own death +sentence pronounced. + +He explained: "Ben has been with me a number of years. It breaks me up +to think of losing him like this." + +The doctor took the pulse of Calamity with lightly touching fingers that +did not waken the sleeper; then he felt with equal caution the forehead +of Ben. + +"Well?" asked Drew eagerly. + +"The chances are about one out of ten." + +It drew a groan from the rancher. + +"But there is still some hope." + +The doctor shook his head and carefully unwound the bandages. He +examined the wound with care, and then made a dressing, and recovered +the little purple spot, so small that a five-cent piece would have +covered it. + +"Tell me!" demanded Drew, as Young turned at length. + +"The bullet passed right through the body, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"He ought to have been dead hours ago. I can't understand it. But since +he's still alive we'll go on hoping." + +"Hope?" whispered Drew. + +It was as if he had received the promise of heaven, such brightness fell +across his haggard face. + +"There's no use attempting to explain," answered Young. "An ordinary man +would have died almost instantly, but the lungs of some of these rangers +seem to be lined with leather. I suppose they are fairly embalmed with +excessive cigarette smoking. The constant work in the open air toughens +them wonderfully. As I said, the chances are about one out of ten, but +I'm only astonished that there is any chance at all." + +"Doctor, I'll make you rich for this!" + +"My dear sir, I've done nothing; it has been your instant care that +saved him--as far as he is saved. I'll tell you what to continue doing +for him; in half an hour I must leave." + +Drew smiled faintly. + +"Not till he's well or dead, doctor." + +"I didn't quite catch that." + +"You won't leave the room, Young, till this man is dead or on the way to +recovery." + +"Come, come, Mr. Drew, I have patients who-- + +"I tell you, there is no one else. Until a decision comes in this case +your world is bounded by the four walls of this room. That's final." + +"Is it possible that you would attempt--" + +"Anything is possible with me. Make up your mind. You shall not leave +this man till you've done all that's humanly possible for him." + +"Mr. Drew, I appreciate your anxiety, but this is stepping too far. I +have an officer of the law with me--" + +"Better do what he wants, Doc," said Glendin uneasily. + +"Don't mouth words," ordered Drew sternly. + +"There lies your sick man. Get to work. In this I'm as unalterable as +the rocks." + +"The bill will be large," said Young sullenly, for he began to see that +it was as futile to resist the grey giant as it would have been to +attempt to stop the progress of a landslide. + +"I'll pay you double what you wish to charge." + +"Does this man's life mean so much to you?" + +"A priceless thing. If you save him, you take the burden of murder off +the soul of another." + +"I'll do what I can." + +"I know you will." + +He laid the broad hand on Young's shoulder. "Doctor, you must do more +than you can; you must accomplish the impossible; I tell you, it is +impossible for this man to die; he must live!" + +He turned to Glendin. + +"I suppose you want the details of what happened here?" + +"Right." + +"Follow me. Doctor, I'll be gone only a moment." + +He led the way into an adjoining room, and lighted a lamp. The sudden +flare cast deep shadows on the face leaning above, and Glendin started. +For the moment it seemed to him that he was seeing a face which had +looked on hell and lived to speak of it. + +"Mr. Drew," he said, "you'd better hit the hay yourself; you look pretty +badly done up." + +The other looked up with a singular smile, clenching and unclenching +his fingers as if he strove to relax muscles which had been tense for +hours. + +"Glendin, the surface of my strength has not been scratched; I could +keep going every hour for ten days if it would save the life of the poor +fellow who lies in there." + +He took a long breath. + +"Now, then, let's get after this business. I'll tell you the naked +facts. Anthony Bard was approaching my house yesterday and word of his +coming was brought to me. For reasons of my own it was necessary that I +should detain him here for an uncertain length of time. For other +reasons it was necessary that I go to any length to accomplish my ends. + +"I had another man--Lawlor, who looks something like me--take my place +in the eyes of Bard. But Bard grew suspicious of the deception. Finally +a girl entered and called Lawlor by name, as they were sitting at the +table with all the men around them. Bard rose at once with a gun in his +hand. + +"Put yourself in his place. He found that he had been deceived, he knew +that he was surrounded by armed men, he must have felt like a cornered +rat. He drew his gun and started for the door, warning the others that +he meant to go the limit in order to get free. Mind you, it was no +sudden gun-play. + +"Then I ordered the men to keep him at all costs within the room. He saw +that they were prepared to obey me, and then he took a desperate chance +and shot down the gasoline lamp which hung over the table. In the +explosion and fire which resulted he made for the door. One man blocked +the way, levelled a revolver at him, and then Bard shot in self-defence +and downed Calamity Ben. I ask you, Glendin, is that self defence?" + +The other drummed his finger-tips nervously against his chin; he was +thinking hard, and every thought was of Steve Nash. + +"So far, all right. I ain't askin' your reasons for doin' some pretty +queer things, Mr. Drew." + +"I'll stand every penalty of the law, sir. I only ask that you see that +punishment falls where it is deserved only. The case is clear. Bard +acted in self-defence." + +Glendin was desperate. + +He said at length: "When a man's tried in court they bring up his past +career. This feller Bard has gone along the range raisin' a different +brand of hell everywhere he went. He had a run-in with two gunmen, +Ferguson and Conklin. He had Eldara within an ace of a riot the first +night he hit the town. Mr. Drew, that chap looks the part of a killer; +he acts the part of a killer; and by God, he is a killer." + +"You seem to have come with your mind already made up, Glendin," said +the rancher coldly. + +"Not a bit. But go through the whole town or Eldara and ask the boys +what they think of this tenderfoot. They feel so strong that if he was +jailed they'd lynch him." + +Drew raised a clenched fist and then let his arm fall suddenly limp at +his side. + +"Then surely he must not be jailed." + +"Want me to let him wander around loose and kill another man--in +self-defence?" + +"I want you to use reason--and mercy, Glendin! + +"From what I've heard, you ain't the man to talk of mercy, Mr. Drew." + +The other, as if he had received a stunning blow, slipped into a chair +and buried his face in his hands. It was a long moment before he could +speak, and when his hands were lowered, Glendin winced at what he saw in +the other's face. + +"God knows I'm not," said Drew. + +"Suppose we let the shootin' of Calamity go. What of hoss-liftin', +sir?" + +"Horse stealing? Impossible! Anthony--he could not be guilty of it!" + +"Ask your man Duffy. Bard's ridin' Duffy's grey right now." + +"But Duffy will press no claim," said the rancher eagerly. "I'll see to +that. I'll pay him ten times the value of his horse. Glendin, you can't +punish a man for a theft of which Duffy will not complain." + +"Drew, you know what the boys on the range think of a hoss thief. It +ain't the price of what they steal; it's the low-down soul of the dog +that would steal it. It ain't the money. But what's a man without a hoss +on the range? Suppose his hoss is stole while he's hundred miles from +nowhere? What does it mean? You know; it means dyin' of thirst and goin' +through a hundred hells before the finish. I say shootin' a man is +nothin' compared with stealin' a hoss. A man that'll steal a hoss will +shoot his own brother; that's what he'll do. But I don't need to tell +you. You know it better'n me. What was it you done with your own hands +to Louis Borgen, the hoss-rustler, back ten years ago?" + +A dead voice answered Glendin: "What has set you on the trail of Bard?" + +"His own wrong doin'." + +The rancher waved a hand of careless dismissal. + +"I know you, Glendin," he said. + +The deputy stirred in his chair, and then cleared his throat. + +He said in a rising tone: "What d'you know?" + +"I don't think you really care to hear it. To put it lightly, Glendin, +you've done many things for money. I don't accuse you of them. But if +you want to do one thing more, you can make more money at a stroke than +you've made in all the rest." + +With all his soul the deputy was cursing Nash, but now the thing was +done, and he must see it through. + +He rose glowering on Drew. + +"I've stood a pile already from you; this is one beyond the limit. +Bribery ain't my way, Drew, no matter what I've done before." + +"Is it war, then?" + +And Glendin answered, forcing his tone into fierceness: "Anything you +want--any way you want it!" + +"Glendin," said the other with a sudden lowering of his voice, "has some +other man been talking to you?" + +"Who? Me? Certainly not." + +"Don't lie." + +"Drew, rein up. They's one thing no man can say to me and get away with +it." + +"I tell you, man, I'm holding myself in harder than I've ever done +before. Answer me!" + +He did not even rise, but Glendin, his hand twitching close to the butt +of his gun, moved step by step away from those keen eyes. + +"Answer me!" + +"Nash; he's been to Eldara." + +"I might have known. He told you about this?" + +"Yes." + +"And you're going the full limit of your power against Bard?" + +"I'll do nothin' that ain't been done by others before me." + +"Glendin, there have been cowardly legal murders before. Tell me at +least that you will not send a posse to 'apprehend' Bard until it's +learned whether or not Ben will die--and whether or not Duffy will press +the charge of horse stealing." + +Glendin was at the door. He fumbled behind him, found the knob, and +swung it open. + +"If you double-cross me," said Drew, "all that I've ever done to any man +before will be nothing to what I'll do to you, Glendin." + +And the deputy cried, his voice gone shrill and high, "I ain't done +nothin' that ain't been done before!" + +And he vanished through the doorway. Drew followed and looked after the +deputy, who galloped like a fugitive over the hills. + +"Shall I follow him?" he muttered to himself, but a faint groan reached +him from the bedroom. + +He turned on his heel and went back to Calamity Ben and the doctor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +CRITICISM + +After the first burst of speed, Bard resigned himself to following +Sally, knowing that he could never catch her, first because her horse +carried a burden so much lighter than his own, but above all because the +girl seemed to know every rock and twist in the trail, and rode as +courageously through the night as if it had been broad day. + +She was following a course as straight as a crow's flight between the +ranch of Drew and his old place, a desperate trail that veered and +twisted up the side of the mountain and then lurched headlong down on +the farther side of the crest. Half a dozen times Anthony checked his +horse and shook his head at the trail, but always the figure of the +girl, glimmering through the dusk ahead, challenged and drove him on. + +Out of the sharp descent of the downward trail they broke suddenly onto +the comparatively smooth floor of the valley, and he followed her at a +gallop which ended in front of the old house of Drew. They had been far +less than five hours on the way, yet his long detour to the south had +given him three days of hard riding to cover the same points. His desire +to meet Logan again became almost a passion. He swung to the ground, and +advanced to Sally with his hands outstretched. + +"You've shown me the short cut, all right," he said, "and I thank you a +thousand times, Sally. So-long, and good luck to you." + +She disregarded his extended hand. + +"Want me to leave you here, Bard?" + +"You certainly can't stay." + +She slipped from her horse and jerked the reins over its head. In +another moment she had untied the cinch and drawn off the saddle. She +held its weight easily on one forearm. Actions, after all, are more +eloquent than words. + +"I suppose," he said gloomily, "that if I'd asked you to stay you'd have +ridden off at once?" + +She did not answer for a moment, and he strained his eyes to read her +expression through the dark. At length she laughed with a new note in +her voice that drew her strangely close to him. During the long ride he +had come to feel toward her as toward another man, as strong as himself, +almost, as fine a horseman, and much surer of herself on that wild +trail; but now the laughter in an instant rubbed all this away. It was +rather low, and with a throaty quality of richness. The pulse of the +sound was like a light finger tapping some marvellously sensitive chord +within him. + +"D'you think that?" she said, and went directly through the door of the +house. + +He heard the crazy floor creak beneath her weight; the saddle dropped +with a thump; a match scratched and a flight of shadows shook across the +doorway. The light did not serve to make the room visible; it fell +wholly upon his own mind and troubled him like the waves which spread +from the dropping of the smallest pebble and lap against the last shores +of a pool. Dumfounded by her casual surety, he remained another moment +with the rein in the hollow of his arm. + +Finally he decided to mount as silently as possible and ride off through +the night away from her. The consequences to her reputation if they +spent the night so closely together was one reason; a more selfish and +more moving one was the trouble which she gave him. The finding and +disposing of Drew should be the one thing to occupy his thoughts, but +the laughter of the girl the moment before had suddenly obsessed him, +wiped out the rest of the world, enmeshed them hopelessly together in +the solemn net of the night, the silence. He resented it; in a vague way +he was angry with Sally Fortune. + +His foot was in the stirrup when it occurred to him that no matter how +softly he withdrew she would know and follow him. It seemed to Anthony +that for the first time in his life he was not alone. In other days +social bonds had fallen very lightly on him; the men he knew were +acquaintances, not friends; the women had been merely border +decorations, variations of light and shadow which never shone really +deep into the stream of his existence; even his father had not been near +him; but by the irresistible force of circumstances which he could not +control, this girl was forced bodily upon his consciousness. + +Now he heard a cheery, faint crackling from the house and a rosy glow +pervaded the gloom beyond the doorway. It brought home to Anthony the +fact that he was tired; weariness went through all his limbs like the +sound of music. Music in fact, for the girl was singing softly--to +herself. + +He took his foot from the stirrup, unsaddled, and carried the saddle +into the room. He found Sally crouched at the fire and piling bits of +wood on the rising flame. Her face was squinted to avoid the smoke, and +she sheltered her eyes with one hand. At his coming she smiled briefly +up at him and turned immediately back to the fire. The silence of that +smile brought their comradeship sharply home to him. It was as if she +understood his weariness and knew that the fire was infinitely +comforting. Anthony frowned; he did not wish to be understood. It was +irritating--indelicate. + +He sat on one of the bunks, and when she took her place on the other he +studied her covertly, with side glances, for he was beginning to feel +strangely self-conscious. It was the situation rather than the girl that +gained upon him, but he felt shamed that he should be so uncertain of +himself and so liable to expose some weakness before the girl. + +That in turn raised a blindly selfish desire to make her feel and +acknowledge his mastery. He did not define the emotion exactly, nor see +clearly what he wished to do, but in a general way he wanted to be +necessary to her, and to let her know at the same time that she was +nothing to him. He was quite sure that the opposite was the truth just +now. + +At this point he shrugged his shoulders, angry that he should have +slipped so easily into the character of a sullen boy, hating a +benefactor for no reason other than his benefactions; but the same +vicious impulse made him study the face of Sally Fortune with an +impersonal, coldly critical eye. It was not easy to do, for she sat with +her head tilted back a little, as though to take the warmth of the fire +more fully. The faint smile on her lips showed her comfort, mingled with +retrospection. + +Here he lost the trend of his thoughts by beginning to wonder of what +she could be thinking, but he called himself back sharply to the +analysis of her features. It was a game with which he had often amused +himself among the girls of his eastern acquaintance. Their beauty, after +all, was their only weapon, and when he discovered that that weapon was +not of pure steel, they became nothing; it was like pushing them away +with an arm of infinite length. + +There was food for criticism in Sally's features. The nose, of course, +was tipped up a bit, and the mouth too large, but Anthony discovered +that it was almost impossible to centre his criticism on either feature. +The tip-tilt of the nose suggested a quaint and infinitely buoyant +spirit; the mouth, if generously wide, was exquisitely made. She was +certainly not pretty, but he began to feel with equal certainty that she +was beautiful. + +A waiting mood came on him while he watched, as one waits through a +great symphony and endures the monotonous passages for the sake of the +singing bursts of harmony to which the commoner parts are a necessary +background. He began to wish that she would turn her head so that he +could see her eyes. They were like the inspired part of that same +symphony, a beauty which could not be remembered and was always new, +satisfying. He could make her turn by speaking, and knowing that this +was so, he postponed the pleasure like a miser who will only count his +gold once a day. + +From the side view he dwelt on the short, delicately carved upper lip +and the astonishingly pleasant curve of the cheek. + +"Look at me," he said abruptly. + +She turned, observed him calmly, and then glanced back to the fire. She +asked no question. + +Her chin rested on her hands, now, so that when she spoke her head +nodded a little and gave a significance to what she said. + +"The grey doesn't belong to you?" + +So she was thinking of horses! + +"Well," she repeated. + +"No." + +"Hoss-lifting," she mused. + +"Why shouldn't I take a horse when they had shot down mine?" + +She turned to him again, and this time her gaze went over him slowly, +curiously, but without speaking she looked back to the fire, as though +explanation of what "hoss-lifting" meant were something far beyond the +grasp of his mentality. His anger rose again, childishly, sullenly, and +he had to arm himself with indifference. + +"Who'd you drop, Bard?" + +"The one they call Calamity Ben." + +"Is he done for?" + +"Yes." + +The turmoil of the scene of his escape came back to him so vividly that +he wondered why it had ever been blurred to obscurity. + +She said: "In a couple of hours we'd better ride on." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +ABANDON + +That was all; no comment, no exclamation--she continued to gaze with +that faint, retrospective smile toward the fire. He knew now why she +angered him; it was because she had held the upper hand from the minute +that ride over the short pass began--he had never once been able to +assert himself impressively. He decided to try now. + +"I don't intend to ride on." + +"Too tired?" + +He felt the clash of her will on his, even like flint against steel, +whenever they spoke, and he began to wonder what spark would start a +fire. It made him think of a game of poker, in a way, for he never knew +what the next instant would place in his hands while the cards of chance +were shuffled and dealt. Tired? There was a subtle, scoffing challenge +hidden somewhere in that word. + +"No, but I don't intend to go any farther from Drew." + +Her smile grew more pronounced; she even looked to him with a frank +amusement, for apparently she would not take him seriously. + +"If I were you, he'd be the last man I'd want to be near." + +"I suppose you would." + +As if she picked up the gauntlet, she turned squarely on the bunk and +faced him. + +"You're going to hit the trail in an hour, understand?" + +It delighted him--set him thrilling with excitement to feel her open +anger and the grip of her will against his; he had to force a frown in +order to conceal a smile. + +"If I do, it will be to ride back toward Drew." + +Her lips parted to make an angry retort, and then he watched her steel +herself with patience, like a mother teaching an old lesson to a child. + +"D'you know what you'd be like, wanderin' around these mountains without +a guide?" + +"Well?" + +"Like a kid in a dark, lonesome room. You'd travel in a circle and fall +into their hands in a day." + +"Possibly." + +She was still patient. + +"Follow me close, Bard. I mean that if you don't do what I say I'll cut +loose and leave you alone here." + +He was silent, enjoying her sternness, glad to have roused her, no +matter what the consequences; knowing that each second heightened the +climax. + +Apparently she interpreted his speechlessness in a different way. She +said after a moment: "That sounds like quittin' cold on you. I won't do +it unless you try some fool thing like riding back toward Drew." + +He waited again as long as he dared, then: "Don't you see that the last +thing I want is to keep you with me?" + +There was no pleasure in that climax. She sat with parted lips, her +hands clasped tightly in her lap, staring at him. He became as vividly +conscious of her femininity as he had been when she laughed in the dark. +There was the same sustained pulsing, vital emotion in this silence. + +He explained hastily: "A girl's reputation is a fragile thing, Sally." + +And she recovered herself with a start, but not before he saw and +understood. It was as if, in the midst of an exciting hand, with the +wagers running high, he had seen her cards and knew that his own hand +was higher. The pleasant sense of mastery made a warmth through him. + +"Meaning that they'd talk about me? Bard, they've already said enough +things about me to fill a book--notes and all, with a bunch of pictures +thrown in. What I can't live down I fight down, and no man never says +the same thing twice about me. It ain't healthy. If that's all that +bothers you, close your eyes and let me lead you out of this mess." + +He hunted about for some other way to draw her out. After all, it was an +old, old game. He had played it before many a time; though the setting +and the lights had been different the play was always the same--a man, +and a woman. + +She was explaining: "And it is a mess. Maybe you could get out after +droppin' Calamity, because it was partly self-defence, but there ain't +nothin' between here and God that can get you off from liftin' a hoss. +No, sir, not even returning the hoss won't do no good. I know! The only +thing is speed--and a thousand miles east of here you can stop ridin'." + +He found the thing to say, and he made his voice earnest and low to give +the words wing and sharpness; it was like the hum of the bow string +after the arrow is launched, so tense was the tremor of his tone. + +"There are two reasons why I can't leave. The first is Drew. I must get +back to him." + +"Why d'you want Drew? Let me tell you, Bard, he's a bigger job than ten +tenderfeet like you could handle. Why, mothers scare their babies asleep +by tellin' of the things that William Drew has done." + +"I can't tell you why. In fact, I don't altogether know the complete why +and wherefore. It's enough that I have to meet him and finish him!" + +Her fingers interlaced and gripped; he wondered at their slenderness; +and leaning back so that his face fell under a slant, black shadow, he +enjoyed the flame of the firelight, turning her brown hair to amber and +gold. White and round and smooth and perfect was the column of her +throat, and it trembled with the stir of her voice. + +"The most fool idea I ever heard. Sounds like something in a dream--a +nightmare. What d'you want to do, Anthony, make yourself famous? You +will be, all right; they'll put up your tombstone by a public +subscription." + +He would not answer, sure of himself; waiting, tingling with enjoyment. + +As he expected, she said: "Go on; is the other reason as good as that +one?" + +Making his expression grim, he leaned suddenly forward, and though the +width of the room separated them, she drew back a little, as though the +shadow of his coming cast a forewarning shade across her. He heard her +breath catch, and as if some impalpable and joyous spirit rushed to meet +and mingle with his, something from her, a spirit as warm as the fire, +as faintly, keenly sweet as an air from a night-dark, unseen garden +blowing in his face. + +"The other reason is you, Sally Fortune. You can't go with me as far as +I must go; and I can't leave you behind." + +Ah, there it was! He had fumbled at the keys of the organ in the dark; +he had spread his fingers amply and pressed down; behold, back from the +cathedral lofts echoed a rising music of surpassing beauty. Like the +organist, he sank back again in the shadow and wondered at the phrase of +melody. Surely he had not created it? Then what? God, perhaps. For her +lips parted to a smile that was suggested rather than seen, a tender, +womanly sweetness that played about her mouth; and a light came in her +eyes that would never wholly die from them. Afterward he would feel +shame for what he had done, but now he was wholly wrapped in the new +thing that had been born in her, like a bird striving to fly in the +teeth of a great storm, and giving back with reeling, drumming wings, a +beautiful and touching sight. + +Her lips framed words that made no sound. Truly, she was making a +gallant struggle. Then she said: "Anthony!" She was pale with the +struggle, now, but she rose bravely to her part. She even laughed, +though it fell short like an arrow dropping in front of the target. + +"Listen, Bard, you make a pretty good imitation of Samson, but I ain't +cut out for any Delilah. If I'm holding you here, why, cut and run and +forget it." + +She drew a long breath and went on more confidently: "It ain't any use; +I'm not cut out for any man--I'd so much rather be--free. I've tried to +get interested in others, but it never works." + +She laughed again, more surely, and with a certain hardness like the +ringing of metal against metal, or the after rhythm from the peal of a +bell. With deft, flying fingers she rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and +sat down cross-legged. + +Through the first outward puff of smoke went these words: "The only +thing that's a woman about me is skirts. That's straight." + +Yet he knew that his power was besieging her on every side. Her power +seemed gone, and she was like a rare flower in the hollow of his hand; +all that he had to do was to close his fingers, and--He despised himself +for it, but he could not resist. Moreover, he half counted on her pride +to make her break away. + +"Then if it's hopeless, Sally Fortune, go now." + +She answered, with an upward tilt of her chin: "Don't be a fool, +Anthony. If I can't be a woman to you, at least I can be a pal--the best +you've had in these parts. Nope, I'll see you through. Better saddle +now--" + +"And start back for Drew?" + +There was the thrust that made her start, as if the knife went through +tender flesh. + +"Are you such a plumb fool as that?" + +"Go now, Sally. I tell you, it's no use. I won't leave the trail of +Drew." + +It was only the outward stretch of her arm, only the extension of her +hand, palm up, but it was as if her whole nature expanded toward him in +tenderness. + +"Oh, Anthony, if you care for me, don't stay in reach of Drew! You're +breaking--" + +She stopped and closed her eyes. + +"Breakin' all the rules, like any tenderfoot would be expected to do." + +She glanced at him, wistful, to see whether or not she had smoothed it +over; his face was a blank. + +"You won't go?" + +"Nope." + +He insisted cruelly: "Why?" + +"Because--because--well, can I leave a baby alone near a fire? Not me!" + +Her voice changed. The light and the life was gone from it, but not all +the music. It was low, a little hoarse. + +"I guess we can stay here tonight without no danger. And in the +morning--well, the morning can take care of itself. I'm going to turn +in." + +He rose obediently and stood at the door, facing the night. From behind +came the rustle of clothes, and the sense of her followed and surrounded +and stood at his shoulder calling to him to turn. He had won, but he +began to wonder if it had not been a Pyrrhic victory. + +At length: "All right, Anthony. It's your turn." + +She was lying on her side, facing the wall, a little heap of clothes on +the foot of her bunk, and the lithe lines of her body something to be +guessed at--sensed beneath the heavy blanket. He slipped into his own +bunk and lay a moment watching the heavy drift of shadows across the +ceiling. He strove to think, but the waves of light and dark blotted +from his mind all except the feeling of her nearness, that indefinable +power keen as the fragrance of a garden, which had never quite become +disentangled from his spirit. She was there, so close. If he called, +she would answer; if she answered------ + +He turned to the wall, shut his eyes, and closed his mind with a Spartan +effort. His breathing came heavily, regularly, like one who slept or one +who is running. Over that sound he caught at length another light +rustling, and then the faint creak as she crossed the crazy floor. He +made his face calm--forced his breath to grow more soft and regular. + +Then, as if a shadow in which there is warmth had crossed him, he knew +that she was leaning above him, close, closer; he could hear her breath. +In a rush of tenderness, he forgot her beauty of eyes and round, strong +throat, and supple body--he forgot, and was immersed, like an eagle +winging into a radiant sunset cloud, in a sense only of her being, quite +divorced from the flesh, the mysterious rare power which made her Sally +Fortune, and would not change no matter what body might contain it. + +It was blindingly intense, and when his senses cleared he knew that she +was gone. He felt as if he had awakened from a night full of dreams more +vivid than life--dreams which left him too weak to cope with reality. + +For a time he dared not move. He was feeling for himself like a man who +fumbles his way down a dark passage dangerous with obstructions. At last +it was as if his hand touched the knob of a door; he swung it open, +entered a room full of dazzling light--himself. He shrank back from it; +closed his eyes against what he might see. + +All he knew, then, was an overpowering will to see her. He turned, inch +by inch, little degree by degree, knowing that if, when he turned, he +looked into her eyes, the end would rush upon them, overwhelm them, +carry them along like straws on the flooding river. At last his head was +turned; he looked. + +She lay on her back, smiling as she slept. One arm hung down from the +bunk and the graceful fingers trailed, palm up, on the floor, curling a +little, as if she had just relaxed her grasp on something. And down past +her shoulder, half covering the whiteness of her arm, fled the torrent +of brown hair, with the firelight playing through it like a sunlit mist. + +He rose, and dressed with a deadly caution, for he knew that he must go +at once, partly for her sake that he must be seen apart from her this +night--partly because he knew that he must leave and never come back. + +He had hit upon the distinctive feature of the girl--a purity as thin +and clear as the air of the uplands in which she drew breath. He stooped +and smoothed down the blankets of his bunk, for no trace of him must be +seen if any other man should come during this night. He would go far +away--see and be seen--apart from Sally Fortune. He picked up his +saddle. + +Before he departed he leaned low above her as she must have done above +him, until the dark shadow of lashes was tremulous against her cheek. +Then he straightened and stole step by step across the floor, to the +door, to the night; all the myriad small white eyes of the heavens +looked down to him in hushed surprise. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +JERRY WOOD + +When he was at the old Drew place before, Logan had told him of Jerry +Wood's place, five miles to the north among the hills; and to this he +now directed his horse, riding at a merciless speed, as if he strove to +gain, from the swift succession of rocks and trees that whirled past +him, new thoughts to supplant the ones which already occupied him. + +He reached in a short time a little rise of ground below which stretched +a darkly wooded hollow, and in the midst the trees gave back from a +small house, a two-storied affair, with not a light showing. He wished +to announce himself and his name at this place under the pretence of +asking harbourage for the brief remainder of the night. The news of what +he had done at Drew's place could not have travelled before him to +Wood's house; but the next day it would be sure to come, and Wood could +say that he had seen Bard--alone--the previous night. It would be a +sufficient shield for the name of Sally Fortune in that incurious +region. + +So he banged loudly at the door. + +Eventually a light showed in an upper window and a voice cried: "Who's +there?" + +"Anthony Bard." + +"Who the devil is Anthony Bard?" + +"Lost in the hills. Can you give me a place to sleep for the rest of the +night? I'm about done up." + +"Wait a minute." + +Voices stirred in the upper part of the house; the lantern disappeared; +steps sounded, descending the stairs, and then the door was unbarred and +held a cautious inch ajar. The ray of light jumped out at Bard like an +accusing arm. + +Evidently a brief survey convinced Jerry Wood that the stranger was no +more than what he pretended. He opened the door wide and stepped back. + +"Come in." + +Bard moved inside, taking off his hat. + +"How'd you happen to be lost in the hills?" + +"I'm a bit of a stranger around here, you see." + +The other surveyed him with a growing grin. + +"I guess maybe you are. Sure, we'll put you up for the night. Where's +your hoss?" + +He went out and raised the lantern above his head to look. The light +shone back from the lustrous wide eyes of the grey. + +Wood turned to Bard. + +"Seems to me I've seen that hoss." + +"Yes. I bought it from Duffy out at Drew's place." + +"Oh! Friend of Mr. Drew?" + +Half a life spent on the mountain-desert had not been enough to remove +from Drew that distinguishing title of respect. The range has more great +men than it has "misters." + +"Not exactly a friend," answered Bard. + +"Sail right. Long's you know him, you're as good as gold with me. Come +on along to the barn and we'll knock down a feed for the hoss." + +He chuckled as he led the way. + +"For that matter, there ain't any I know that can say they're friends to +William Drew, though there's plenty that would like to if they thought +they could get away with it. How's he lookin'?" + +"Why, big and grey." + +"Sure. He never changes none. Time and years don't mean nothin' to Drew. +He started bein' a man when most of us is in short pants; he'll keep on +bein' a man till he goes out. He ain't got many friends--real ones--but +I don't know of any enemies, neither. All the time he's been on the +range Drew has never done a crooked piece of work. Every decent man on +the range would take his word ag'in'--well, ag'in' the Bible, for that +matter." + +They reached the barn at the end of this encomium, and Bard unsaddled +his horse. The other watched him critically. + +"Know somethin' about hosses, eh?" + +"A little." + +"When I seen you, I put you down for a tenderfoot. Don't mind, do you? +The way you talked put me out." + +"For that matter, I suppose I am a tenderfoot." + +"Speakin' of tenderfoots, I heard of one over to Eldara the other night +that raised considerable hell. You ain't him, are you?" + +He lifted the lantern again and fixed his keen eyes on Bard. + +"However," he went on, lowering the lantern with an apologetic laugh, +"I'm standin' here askin' questions and chatterin' like a woman, and +what you're thinkin' of is bed, eh? Come on with me." + +Upstairs in the house he found Bard a corner room with a pile of straw +in the corner by way of a mattress. There he spread out some blankets, +wished his guest a good sleep, and departed. + +Left to himself, Anthony stretched out flat on his back. It had been a +wild, hard day, but he felt not the slightest touch of weariness; all he +wished was to relax his muscles for a few moments. Moreover, he must be +away from the house with the dawn-first, because Sally Fortune might +waken, guess where he had gone, and follow him; secondly because the +news of what had happened at Drew's place might reach Wood at any hour. + +So he lay trying to fight the thought of Sally from his mind and +concentrate on some way of getting back to Drew without riding the +gauntlet of the law. + +The sleep which stole upon him came by slow degrees; or, rather, he was +not fully asleep, when a sound outside the house roused him to sharp +consciousness compared with which his drowsiness had been a sleep. + +It was a knocking at the door, not loud, but repeated. At the same time +he heard Jerry Wood cursing softly in a neighbouring room, and then the +telltale creak of bedsprings. + +The host was rousing himself a second time that night. Or, rather, it +was morning now, for when Anthony sat up he saw that the hills were +stepping out of the shadows of the night, black, ugly shapes revealed by +a grey background of the sky. A window went up noisily. + +"Am I runnin' a hotel?" roared Jerry Wood. "Ain't I to have no sleep no +more? Who are ye?" + +A lowered, muttering voice answered. + +"All right," said Jerry, changing his tone at once. "I'll come down." + +His steps descended the noisy stairs rapidly; the door creaked. Then +voices began again outside the house, an indistinct mumble, rising to +one sharp height in an exclamation. + +Almost at once steps again sounded on the stairs, but softly now. Bard +went quietly to the door, locked it, and stole back to the window. Below +it extended the roof of a shed, joining the main body of the house only +a few feet under his window and sloping to what could not have been a +dangerous distance from the ground. He raised the window-sash. + +Yet he waited, something as he had waited for Sally Fortune to speak +earlier in the night, with a sense of danger, but a danger which +thrilled and delighted him. No game of polo could match suspense like +this. Besides, he would be foolish to go before he was sure. + +The walls were gaping with cracks that carried the sounds, and now he +heard a sibilant whisper with a perfect clearness. + +"This is the room." + +There was a click as the lock was tried. + +"Locked, damn it!" + +"Shut up, Butch. Jerry, have you got a bar, or anything? We'll pry it +down and break in on him before he can get in action." + +"You're a fool, McNamara. That feller don't take a wink to get into +action. Sure he didn't hear you when you hollered out the window? That +was a fool move, Wood." + +"I don't think he heard. There wasn't any sound from his room when I +passed it goin' downstairs. Think of the nerve of this bird comin' here +to roost after what he done." + +"He didn't think we'd follow him so fast." + +But Anthony waited for no more. He slipped out on the roof of the shed, +lowered himself hand below hand to the edge, and dropped lightly to the +ground. + +The grey, at his coming, flattened back its ears, as though it knew that +more hard work was coming, but he saddled rapidly, led it outside, and +rode a short distance into the forest. There he stopped. + +His course lay due north, and then a swerve to the side and a straight +course west for the ranch of William Drew. If the hounds of the law were +so close on his trace, they certainly would never suspect him of +doubling back in this manner, and he would have the rancher to himself +when he arrived. + +Yet still he did not start the grey forward to the north. For to the +south lay Sally Fortune, and at the thought of her a singular hollowness +came about his heart, a loneliness, not for himself, but for her. Yes, +in a strange way all self was blotted from his emotion. + +It would be a surrender to turn back--now. + +And like a defeated man who rides in a lost cause, he swung the grey to +the south and rode back over the trail, his head bowed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +"TODO ES PERDO" + +It was not long after the departure of Bard that Sally Fortune awoke. +For a step had creaked on the floor, and she looked up to find Steve +Nash standing in the centre of the room with the firelight gloomily +about him; behind, blocking the door with his squat figure, stood Shorty +Kilrain. + +"Where's your side-kicker?" asked Nash. "Where's Bard?" + +And looking across the room, she saw that the other bunk was empty. She +raised her arms quickly, as if to stifle a yawn, and sat up in the bunk, +holding the blanket close about her shoulders. The face she showed to +Nash was calmly contemptuous. + +"The bird seems to be flown, eh?" she queried. + +"Where is he?" he repeated, and made a step nearer. + +She knew at last that her power over him as a woman was gone; she caught +the danger of his tone, saw it in the steadiness of the eyes he fixed +upon her. Behind was a great, vague feeling of loss, the old hollowness +about the heart. It made her reckless of consequences; and when Nash +asked, "Is he hangin' around behind the corner, maybe?" she cried: + +"If he was that close you'd have sense enough to run, Steve." + +The snarl of Nash showed his teeth. + +"Out with it. The tenderfoot ain't left his woman fur away. Where's he +gone? Who's he gone to shoot in the back? Where's the hoss he started +out to rustle?" + +"Kind of peeved, Nash, eh?" + +One step more he made, towering above her. + +"I've done bein' polite, Sally. I've asked you a question." + +"And I've answered you: I don't know." + +"Sally, I'm patient; I don't mean no wrong to you. What you've been to +me I'm goin' to bust myself tryin' to forget; but don't lie to me now." + +Such a far greater woe kept up a throbbing ache in the hollow of her +throat that now she laughed, laughed slowly, deliberately. He leaned, +caught her wrist in a crushing pressure. + +"You demon; you she-devil!" + +She whirled out of the bunk, the blanket caught about her like the toga +of some ancient Roman girl; and as she moved she had swept up something +heavy and bright from the floor. + +All this, and still his grip was on her left arm. + +"Drop your hand, Nash." + +With a falling of the heart, she knew that he did not fear her gun; +instead, a light of pleasure gleamed in his eyes and his lower jaw +thrust out. + +She would never forget his face as he looked that moment. + +"Will you tell me?" + +"I'll see you in hell first." + +By that wrist he drew her resistlessly toward him, and his other arm +went about her and crushed her close; hate, shame, rage, love were in +the contorted face above her. She pressed the muzzle of her revolver +against his side. + +"You're in beckoning distance of that hell, Steve!" + +"You she-wolf--shoot and be damned! I'd live long enough to strangle +you." + +"You know me, Steve; don't be a fool." + +"Know you? Nobody knows you. And God Almighty, Sally, I love you worse'n +ever; love the very way you hate me. Come here!" + +He jerked her closer still, leaned; and she remembered then that +Anthony had never kissed her. She said: + +"You're safe; you know he can't see you." + +He threw her from him and stood snarling like a dog growling for the +bone it fears to touch because there may be poison in the taste--a +starving dog, and a bone full of toothsome marrow which has only to be +crushed in order that it may be enjoyed. + +"I'm wishin' nothin' more than that he could see me." + +"Then you're a worse fool than I took you for, Steve. You know he'd go +through ten like you." + +"There ain't no man has gone through me yet." + +"But he would. You know it. He's not stronger, maybe not so strong. But +he was born to win, Steve; he's like--he's like Drew, in a way. He can't +fail." + +"If I wrung that throat of yours," he said, "I know I couldn't get out +of you where he's gone." + +"Because I don't know, you see." + +"Don't know?" + +"He's given me the slip." + +"You!" + +"Funny, ain't it? But he has. Thought I couldn't ride fast enough to +keep up with him, maybe. He's gone on east, of course." + +"That's another lie." + +"Well, you know." + +"I do." + +His voice changed. + +"Has he really beat it away from you, Sally?" + +She watched him with a strange, sneering smile. Then she stepped close. + +"Lean your ear down to me, Steve." + +He obeyed. + +"I'll tell you what ought to make you happy. He don't care for me no +more than I care for--you, Steve." + +He straightened again, wondering. + +"And you?" + +"I threw myself at him. I dunno why I'm tellin' you, except it's right +that you should know. But he don't want me; he's gone on without me." + +"An' you like him still?" + +She merely stared, with a sick smile. + +"My God!" he murmured, shaken deep with wonder. "What's he made of?" + +"Steel and fire--that's all." + +"Listen, Sally, forget what I've done, and--" + +"Would you drop his trail, Steve?" + +He cursed through his set teeth. + +"If that's it--no. It's him or me, and I'm sure to beat him out. +Afterwards you'll forget him." + +"Try me." + +"Girls have said that before. I'll wait. There ain't no one but you for +me--damn you--I know that. I'll get him first, and then I'll wait." + +"Ten like you couldn't get him." + +"I've six men behind me." + +She was still defiant, but her colour changed. + +"Six, Sally, and he's out here among the hills, not knowing his right +from his left. I ask you: has he got a chance?" + +She answered: "No; not one." + +He turned on his heel, beckoned to Kilrain, who had stood moveless +through the strange dialogue, and went out into the night. + +As they mounted he said: "We're going straight for the place where I +told Butch Conklin I'd meet him. Then the bunch of us will come back." + +"Why waste time?" + +"Because he's sure to come back. Shorty, after a feller has seen Sally +smile--the way she can smile--he couldn't keep away. I _know_!" + +They rode off at a slow trot, like men who have resigned themselves to a +long journey, and Sally watched them from the door. She sat down, +crosslegged, before the fire, and stirred the embers, and strove to +think. + +But she was not equipped for thinking, all her life had been merely +action, action, action, and now, as she strove to build out some logical +sequence and find her destiny in it, she failed miserably, and fell back +upon herself. She was one of those single-minded people who give +themselves up to emotion rarely, but when they do their whole body, +their whole soul burns in the flame. + +Into her mind came a phrase she had heard in her childhood. On the +outskirts of Eldara there was a little shack owned by a Mexican--José, +he was called, and nothing else, "Greaser" José. One night an alarm of +fire was given in Eldara, and the whole populace turned out to enjoy the +sight; it was a festival occasion, in a way. It was the house of Greaser +José. + +The cowpunchers manned a bucket line, but the source of water was far +away, the line too long, and the flames gained faster than they could be +quenched. All through the work of fire-fighting Greaser José was +everywhere about the house, flinging buckets of water through the +windows into the red furnace within; his wife and the two children stood +stupidly, staring, dumb. But in the end, when the fire was towering +above the roof of the house, roaring and crackling, the Mexican suddenly +raised a long arm and called to the bucket line, "It is done. Señors, I +thank you." + +Then he had folded his arms and repeated in a monotone, over and over +again: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo_!" + +His wife came to him, frantic, wailing, and threw her arms around his +neck. He merely repeated with heavy monotony: "_Todo es perdo; todo es +perdo_!" + +The phrase clung in the mind of the girl; and she rose at last and went +back to her bunk, repeating: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo! All is +lost; all is lost_!" + +No tears were in her eyes; they were wide and solemn, looking up to the +shadows of the ceiling, and so she went to sleep with the solemn Spanish +phrase echoing through her whole being: "_Todo es perdo_!" + +She woke with the smell of frying bacon pungent in her nostrils. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +BACON + +The savour of roasting chicken, that first delicious burst of aroma when +the oven door is opened, would tempt an angel from heaven down to the +lowly earth. A Southerner declares that his nostrils can detect at a +prodigious distance the cooking of "possum and taters." A Kanaka has a +cosmopolitan appetite, but the fragrance which moves him most nearly is +the scent of fish baking in Ti leaves. A Frenchman waits unmoved until +the perfume of some rich lamb ragout, an air laden with spices, is +wafted toward him. + +Every man and every nation has a special dish, in general; there is only +one whose appeal is universal. It is not for any class or nation; it is +primarily for "the hungry man," no matter what has given him an +appetite. It may be that he has pushed a pen all day, or reckoned up +vast columns, or wielded a sledge-hammer, or ridden a wild horse from +morning to night; but the savour of peculiar excellence to the nostrils +of this universal hungry man is the smell of frying bacon. + +A keen appetite is even stronger than sorrow, and when Sally Fortune +awoke with that strong perfume in her nostrils, she sat straight up +among the blankets, startled as the cavalry horse by the sound of the +trumpet. What she saw was Anthony Bard kneeling by the coals of the fire +over which steamed a coffee-pot on one side and a pan of crisping bacon +on the other. + +The vision shook her so that she rubbed her eyes and stared again to +make sure. It did not seem possible that she had actually wakened during +the night and found him gone, and with this reality before her she was +strongly tempted to believe that the coming of Nash was only a vivid +dream. + +"Morning, Anthony." + +He turned his head quickly and smiled to her. + +"Hello, Sally." + +He was back at once, turning the bacon, which was done on the first +side. Seeing that his back was turned, she dressed quickly. + +"How'd you sleep?" + +"Well." + +"Where?" + +He turned more slowly this time. + +"You woke up in the middle of the night?" + +"Yes." + +"What wakened you?" + +"Nash and Kilrain." + +He sighed: "I wish I'd been here." + +She answered: "I'll wash up; we'll eat; and then off on the trail. I've +an idea that the two will be back, and they'll have more men behind +them." + +After a little her voice called from the outside: "Anthony, have you had +a look at the morning?" + +He came obediently to the doorway. The sun had not yet risen, but the +fresh, rose-coloured light already swept around the horizon throwing +the hills in sharp relief and flushing, faraway, the pure snows of the +Little Brothers. And so blinding was the sheen of the lake that it +seemed at first as though the sun were about to break from the waters, +for there all the radiance of the sunrise was reflected, concentrated. + +Looking in this manner from the doorway, with the water on either side +and straight ahead, and the dark, narrow point of land cutting that +colour like a prow, it seemed to Anthony almost as if he stood on the +bridge of a ship which in another moment would gather head and sail out +toward the sea of fresh beauty beyond the peaks, for the old house of +William Drew stood on a small peninsula, thrusting out into the lake, a +low, shelving shore, scattered with trees. + +Where the little tongue of land joined the main shore the ground rose +abruptly into a shoulder of rocks inaccessible to a horse; the entrance +and exit to the house must be on either side of this shoulder hugging +closely the edge of the water. + +Feeling that halo of the morning about them, for a moment Anthony forgot +all things in the lift and exhilaration of the keen air; and he accepted +the girl as a full and equal partner in his happiness, looking to her +for sympathy. + +She knelt by the edge of the water, face and throat shining and wet, her +head bending back, her lips parted and smiling. It thrilled him as if +she were singing a silent song which made the brightness of the morning +and the colour beyond the peaks. He almost waited to see her throat +quiver--hear the high, sweet tone. + +But a scent of telltale sharpness drew him a thousand leagues down and +made him whirl with a cry of dismay: "The bacon, Sally!" + +It was hopelessly burned; some of it was even charred on the bottom of +the pan. Sally, returning on the run, took charge of the cookery and +went about it with a speed and ability that kept him silent; which being +the ideal mood for a spectator, he watched and found himself learning +much. + +Whatever that scene of the night before meant in the small and definite, +in the large and vague it meant that he had a claim of some sort on +Sally Fortune and it is only when a man feels that he has this claim, +this proprietorship, as it were, that he begins to see a woman clearly. + +Before this his observance has been half blind through prejudice either +for or against; he either sees her magnified with adulation, or else the +large end of the glass is placed against his eye and she is merely a +speck in the distance. But let a woman step past that mysterious wall +which separates the formal from the intimate--only one step--at once she +is surrounded by the eyes of a man as if by a thousand spies. So it was +with Anthony. + +It moved him, for instance, to see the supple strength of her fingers +when she was scraping the charred bacon from the bottom of the pan, and +he was particularly fascinated by the undulations of the small, round +wrist. He glanced down to his own hand, broad and bony in comparison. + +It was his absorption in this criticism that served to keep him aloof +from her while they ate, and the girl felt it like an arm pushing her +away. She had been very close to him not many hours before; now she was +far away. She could understand nothing but the pain of it. + +As he finished his coffee he said, staring into a corner: "I don't know +why I came back to you, Sally." + +"You didn't mean to come back when you started?" + +"Of course not." + +She flushed, and her heart beat loudly to hear his weakness. He was +keeping nothing from her; he was thinking aloud; she felt that the bars +between them were down again. + +"In the first place I went because I had to be seen and known by name in +some place far away from you. That was for your sake. In the second +place I had to be alone for the work that lay ahead." + +"Drew?" + +"Yes. It all worked like a charm. I went to the house of Jerry Wood, +told him my name, stayed there until Conklin and several others arrived, +hunting for me, and then gave them the slip." + +She did not look up from her occupation, which was the skilful cleaning +of her gun. + +"It was perfect; the way clear before me; I had dodged through their +lines, so to speak, when I gave Conklin the slip, and I could ride +straight for Drew and catch him unprepared. Isn't that clear?" + +"But you didn't?" + +She was so calm about it that he grew a little angry; she would not look +up from the cleaning of the gun. + +"That's the devil of it; I couldn't stay away. I had to come back to +you." + +She restored the gun to her holster and looked steadily at him; he felt +a certain shock in countering her glance. + +"Because I thought you might be lonely, Sally." + +"I was." + +It was strange to see how little fencing there was between them. They +were like men, long tried in friendship and working together on a great +problem full of significance to both. + +"Do you know what I kept sayin' to myself when I found you was gone?" + +"Well?" + +"Todo es perdo; todo es perdo!" + +She had said it so often to herself that now some of the original +emotion crept into her voice. His arm went out; they shook hands across +their breakfast pans. + +She went on: "The next thing is Drew?" + +"Yes." + +"There's no changing you." She did not wait for his answer. "I know +that. I won't ask questions. If it has to be done we'll do it quickly; +and afterward I can find a way out for us both." + +Something like a foreknowledge came to him, telling him that the thing +would never be done--that he had surrendered his last chance of Drew +when he turned back to go to Sally. It was as if he took a choice +between the killing of the man and the love of the woman. But he said +nothing of his forebodings and helped her quietly to rearrange the small +pack. They saddled and took the trail which pointed up over the +mountains--the same trail which they had ridden in an opposite direction +the night before. + +He rode with his head turned, taking his last look at the old house of +Drew, with its blackened, crumbling sides, when the girl cried softly: +"What's that? Look!" + +He stared in the direction of her pointing arm. They were almost +directly under the shoulder of rocks which loomed above the trail along +the edge of the lake. Anthony saw nothing. + +"What was it?" + +He checked his horse beside hers. + +"I thought I saw something move. I'm not sure. And there--back, +Anthony!" + +And she whirled her horse. He caught it this time clearly, the +unmistakable glint of the morning light on steel, and he turned the grey +sharply. At the same time a rattling blast of revolver shots crackled +above them; the grey reared and pitched back. + +By inches he escaped the fall of the horse, slipping from the saddle in +the nick of time. A bullet whipped his hat from his head. Then the hand +of the girl clutched his shoulder. + +"Stirrup and saddle, Anthony!" + +He seized the pommel of the saddle, hooked his foot into the stirrup +which she abandoned to him, and she spurred back toward the old house. + +A shout followed them, a roar that ended in a harsh rattle of curses; +they heard the spat of bullets several times on the trees past which +they whirled. But it was only a second before they were once more in the +shelter of the house. He stood in the centre of the room, stunned, +staring stupidly around him. It was not fear of death that benumbed him, +but a rising horror that he should be so trapped--like a wild beast +cornered and about to be worried to death by dogs. + +As for escape, there was simply no chance--it was impossible. On three +sides the lake, still beautiful, though the colour was fading from it, +effectively blocked their way. On the fourth and narrowest side there +was the shoulder of rocks, not only blocking them, but affording a +perfect shelter for Nash and his men, for they did not doubt that it was +he. + +"They think they've got us," said a fiercely exultant voice beside him, +"but we ain't started to make all the trouble we're goin' to make." + +Life came back to him as he looked at her. She was trembling with +excitement, but it was the tremor of eagerness, not the unmistakable +sick palsy of fear. He drew out a large handkerchief of fine, white +linen and tied it to a long splinter of wood which he tore away from one +of the rotten boards. + +"Go out with this," he said. "They aren't after you, Sally. This is west +of the Rockies, thank God, and a woman is safe with the worst man that +ever committed murder." + +She said: "D'you mean this, Anthony?" + +"I'm trying to mean it." + +She snatched the stick and snapped it into small pieces. + +"Does that look final, Anthony?" + +He could not answer for a moment. At last he said: "What a woman you +would have made for a wife, Sally Fortune; what a fine pal!" + +But she laughed, a mirth not forced and harsh, but clear and ringing. + +"Anthony, ain't this better'n marriage?" + +"By God," he answered, "I almost think you're right." + +For answer a bullet ripped through the right-hand wall and buried itself +in a beam on the opposite side of the room. + +"Listen!" she said. + +There was a fresh crackle of guns, the reports louder and longer drawn. + +"Rifles," said Sally Fortune. "I knew no bullet from a six-gun could +carry like that one." + +The little, sharp sounds of splintering and crunching began everywhere. +A cloud of soot spilled down the chimney and across the hearth. A furrow +ploughed across the floor, lifting a splinter as long and even as if it +had been grooved out by a machine. + +"Look!" said Sally, "they're firin' breast high to catch us standing, +and on the level of the floor to get us if we lie down. That's Nash. I +know his trademark." + +"From the back of the house we can answer them," said Bard. "Let's try +it." + +"Pepper for their salt, eh?" answered Sally, and they ran back through +the old shack to the last room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +LEGAL MURDER + +As Drew entered his bedroom he found the doctor in the act of restoring +the thermometer to its case. His coat was off and his sleeves rolled up +to the elbow; he looked more like a man preparing to chop wood than a +physician engaging in a struggle with death; but Dr. Young had the +fighting strain. Otherwise he would never have persisted in Eldara. + +Already the subtle atmosphere of sickness had come upon the room. The +shades of the windows were drawn evenly, and low down, so that the +increasing brightness of the morning could only temper, not wholly +dismiss the shadows. Night is the only reality of the sick-bed; the day +is only a long evening, a waiting for the utter dark. The doctor's +little square satchel of instruments, vials, and bandages lay open on +the table; he had changed the apartment as utterly as he had changed his +face by putting on great, horn-rimmed spectacles. They gave an owl-like +look to him, an air of omniscience. It seemed as if no mortal ailment +could persist in the face of such wisdom. + +"Well?" whispered Drew. + +"You can speak out, but not loudly," said the doctor calmly. "He's +delirious; the fever is getting its hold." + +"What do you think?" + +"Nothing. The time hasn't come for thinking." + +He bent his emotionless eye closer on the big rancher. + +"You," he said, "ought to be in bed this moment." + +Drew waved the suggestion aside. + +"Let me give you a sedative," added Young. + +"Nonsense. I'm going to stay here." + +The doctor gave up the effort; dismissed Drew from his mind, and focused +his glance on the patient once more. Calamity Ben was moving his head +restlessly from side to side, keeping up a gibbering mutter. It rose now +to words. + +"Joe, a mule is to a hoss what a woman is to a man. Ever notice? The +difference ain't so much in what they do as what they don't do. Me +speakin' personal, I'll take a lot from any hoss and lay it to jest +plain spirit; but a mule can make me mad by standin' still and doin' +nothing but wablin' them long ears as if it understood things it wasn't +goin' to speak about. Y' always feel around a mule as if it knew +somethin' about you--had somethin' on you--and was laughin' soft and +deep inside. Damn a mule! I remember--" + +But here he sank into the steady, voiceless whisper again, the shadow of +a sound rather than the reality. It was ghostly to hear, even by +daylight. + +"Will it keep up long?" asked Drew. + +"Maybe until he dies." + +"I've told you before; it's impossible for him to die." + +The doctor made a gesture of resignation. + +He explained: "As long as this fever grows our man will steadily weaken; +it shows that he's on the downward path. If it breaks--why, that means +that he will have a chance--more than a chance--to get well. It will +mean that he has enough reserve strength to fight off the shock of the +wound and survive the loss of the blood." + +"It will mean," said Drew, apparently thinking aloud, "that the guilt of +murder does not fall on Anthony." + +"Who is Anthony?" + +The wounded man broke in; his voice rose high and sharp: "Halt!" + +He went on, in a sighing mumble: "Shorty--help--I'm done for!" + +"The shooting," said the doctor, who had kept his fingers on the wrist +of his patient; "I could feel his pulse leap and stop when he said +that." + +"He said 'halt!' first; a very clear sign that he tried to stop Bard +before Bard shot. Doctor, you're witness to that?" + +He had grown deeply excited. + +"I'm witness to nothing. I never dreamed that you could be so interested +in any human being." + +He nodded to himself. + +"Do you know how I explained your greyness to myself? As that of a man +ennuied with life--tired of living because he had nothing in the world +to occupy his affections. And here I find you so far from being ennuied +that you are using your whole strength to keep the guilt of murder away +from another man. It's amazing. The boys will never believe it." + +He continued: "A man who raised a riot in your own house, almost burned +down your place, shot your man, stole a horse--gad, Drew, you are +sublime!" + +But if he expected an explanatory answer from the rancher he was +disappointed. The latter pulled up a chair beside the bed and bent his +stern eyes on the patient as if he were concentrating all of a great +will on bringing Calamity Ben back to health. + +He worked with the doctor. Every half hour a temperature was taken, and +it was going up steadily. Drew heard the report each time with a +tightening of the muscles about his jaws. He helped pack the wounded man +with wet cloths. He ran out and stopped a wrangling noise of the +cowpunchers several times. But mostly he sat without motion beside the +bed, trying to will the sufferer back to life. + +And in the middle of the morning, after taking a temperature, the doctor +looked to the rancher with a sort of dull wonder. + +"It's dropping?" whispered Drew. + +"It's lower. I don't think it's dropping. It can't be going down so +soon. Wait till the next time I register it. If it's still lower then, +he'll get well." + +The grey man sagged forward from his chair to his knees and took the +hands of Calamity, long-fingered, bony, cold hands they were. There he +remained, moveless, his keen eyes close to the wandering stare of the +delirious man. Out of the exhaustless reservoir of his will he seemed to +be injecting an electric strength into the other, a steadying and even +flow of power that passed from his hands and into the body of Calamity. + +When the time came, and Young stood looking down at the thermometer, +Drew lifted haggard eyes, waiting. + +"It's lower!" + +The great arms of the rancher were thrown above his head; he rose, +changed, triumphant, as if he had torn his happiness from the heart of +the heavens, and went hastily from the room, silent. + +At the stable he took his great bay, saddled him, and swung out on the +trail for Eldara, a short, rough trail which led across the +Saverack--the same course which Nash and Bard had taken the day before. + +But the river had greatly fallen--the water hardly washed above the +knees of the horse except in the centre of the stream; by noon he +reached the town and went straight for the office of Glendin. The deputy +was not there, and the rancher was referred to Murphy's saloon. + +There he found Glendin, seated at a corner table with a glass of beer in +front of him, and considering the sun-whitened landscape lazily through +the window. At the sound of the heavy footfall of Drew he turned, rose, +his shoulders flattened against the wall behind him like a cornered man +prepared for a desperate stand. + +"It's all right," cried Drew. "It's all over, Glendin. Duffy won't press +any charges against Bard; he says that he's given the horse away. And +Calamity Ben is going to live." + +"Who says he will?" + +"I've just ridden in from his bedside. Dr. Young says the crisis is +past. And so--thank God--there's no danger to Bard; he's free from the +law!" + +"Too late," said the deputy. + +It did not seem that Drew heard him. He stepped closer and turned his +head. + +"What's that?" + +"Too late. I've sent out men to--to apprehend Bard." + +"Apprehend him?" repeated Drew. "Is it possible? To murder him, you +mean!" + +He had not made a threatening move, but the deputy had his grip on the +butt of his gun. + +"It was that devil Nash. He persuaded me to send out a posse with him in +charge." + +"And you sent him?" + +"What could I do? Ain't it legal?" + +"Murder is legal--sometimes. It has been in the past. I've an idea that +it's going to be again." + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"You'll learn later. Where did they go for Bard?" + +He did not seem disappointed. He was rather like a man who had already +heard bad news and now only finds it confirmed. He knew before. Now the +fact was simply clinched. + +"They went out to your old place on the other side of the range. Drew, +listen to me--" + +"How many went after him?" + +"Nash, Butch Conklin, and five more. Butch's gang." + +"Conklin!" + +"I was in a hole; I needed men." + +"How long have they been gone?" + +"Since last night." + +"Then," said Drew, "he's already dead. He doesn't know the mountains." + +"I give Nash strict orders not to do nothin' but apprehend Bard." + +"Don't talk, Glendin. It disgusts me--makes my flesh crawl. He's alone, +with seven cutthroats against him." + +"Not alone. Sally Fortune's better'n two common men." + +"The girl? God bless her! She's with him; she knows the country. There +may be a hope; Glendin, if you're wise, start praying now that I find +Bard alive. If I don't--" + +The swinging doors closed behind him as he rushed through toward his +horse. Glendin stood dazed, his face mottled with a sick pallor. Then he +moved automatically toward the bar. Murphy hobbled down the length of +the room on his wooden leg and placed bottle and glass before the +deputy. + +"Well?" he queried. + +Glendin poured his drink with a shaking hand, spilling much liquor +across the varnished wood. He drained his glass at a gulp. + +"I dunno; what d'you think, Murphy?" + +"You heard him talk, Glendin. You ought to know what's best." + +"Let's hear you say it." + +"I'd climb the best hoss I owned and start west, and when I come to the +sea I'd take a ship and keep right on goin' till I got halfway around +the world. And then I'd climb a mountain and hire a couple of dead-shots +for guards and have my first night's sleep. After that I'd begin +thinkin' of what I could do to get away from Drew." + +"Murphy," said the other, "maybe that line of talk would sound sort of +exaggerated to some, but I ain't one of them. You've got a wooden leg, +but your brain's sound. But tell me, what in God's name makes him so +thick with the tenderfoot?" + +He waited for no answer, but started for the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +PARTNERS + +If Drew had done hard things in his life, few were more remorseless than +the ride on the great bay horse that day. Starting out, he reckoned +coldly the total strength of the gallant animal, the distance to his old +house, and figured that it was just within possibilities that he might +reach the place before evening. From that moment it was certain that the +horse would not survive the ride. + +It was merely a question as to whether or not the master had so gaged +his strength that the bay would not collapse before even the summit of +the range had been reached. As the miles went by the horse loosened and +extended finely to his work; sweat darkened and polished his flanks; +flecks of foam whirled back and spattered his chest and the legs of his +rider; he kept on; almost to the last the rein had to be drawn taut; to +the very last his heart was even greater than his body. + +Up the steep slopes Drew let the horse walk; every other inch of the +way it was either the fast trot or a swinging gallop, not the +mechanical, easy pace of the cattle-pony, but a driving, lunging speed. +The big hoofs literally smashed at the rocks, and the ringing of it +echoed hollowly along the rock face of the ravine. + +At the summit, for a single moment, like a bird of prey pausing in mid +circle to note the position of the field mouse before it closes wings +and bolts down out of the blue, Drew sat his horse motionless and stared +down into the valleys below until he noted the exact location of his +house--the lake glittered back and up to him in the slant light of the +late afternoon. The bay, such was the violence of its panting, literally +rocked beneath him. + +Then he started the last downward course, sweeping along the treacherous +trail with reckless speed, the rocks scattering before him. When they +straightened out on the level going beneath, the bay was staggering; +there was no longer any of the lilt and ease of the strong horse +running; it was a succession of jerks and jars, and the panting was a +sharper sound than the thunder of the hoofs. His shoulders, his flanks, +his neck--all was foam now; and little by little the proud head fell, +reached out; still he drove against the bit; still the rider had to keep +up the restraining pressure. + +Until at last he knew that the horse was dying on his feet; dying with +each heavy stride it made. Then he let the reins hang limp. It was sad +to see the answer of the bay--a snort, as if of happiness; a pricking of +the ears; a sudden lengthening of stride and quickening; a nobler lift +to the head. + +Past the margin of the lake they swept, crashed through the woods to the +right; and now, very distinctly, Drew heard the heavy drum of firing. He +groaned and drove home the spurs. And still, by some miracle, there was +something left in the horse which responded; not strength, certainly +that was gone long ago, but there was an indomitable spirit bred into it +with its fine blood by gentle care for generations. The going was +heavier among the trees, and yet the bay increased its pace. The crackle +of the rifles grew more and more distinct. A fallen trunk blocked the +way. + +With a snort the bay gathered speed, rose, cleared the trunk with a last +glorious effort, and fell dead on the other side. + +Drew disentangled his feet from the stirrup, raised the head of the +horse, stared an instant into the glazing eyes, and then turned and ran +on among the trees. Panting, dripping with sweat, his face contorted +terribly by his effort, he came at last behind that rocky shoulder +which commanded the approach to the old house. + +He found seven men sheltered there, keeping up a steady, dropping fire +on the house. McNamara sat propped against a rock, a clumsy, dirty +bandage around his thigh; Isaacs lay prone, a stained rag twisted +tightly around his shoulder; Lovel sat with his legs crossed, staring +stupidly down to the steady drip of blood from his left forearm. + +But Ufert, Kilrain, Conklin, and Nash maintained the fight; and Drew +wondered what casualties lay on the other side. + +At his rush, at the sound of his heavy footfall over the rocks, the four +turned with a single movement; Ufert covered him with a rifle, but Nash +knocked down the boy's arm. + +"We've done talkin'; it's our time to listen; understand?" + +Ufert, gone sullen, obeyed. He was at that age between youth and manhood +when the blood, despite the songs of the poets, runs slow, cold; before +the heart has been called out in love, or even in friendship; before +fear or hate or anything saving a deep egoism has possessed the brain. + +He looked about to the others for his cue. What he saw disturbed him. +Shorty Kilrain, like a boy caught playing truant, edged little by little +back against the rock; Butch Conklin, his eyes staring, had grown waxy +pale; Steve Nash himself was sullen and gloomy rather than defiant. + +And all this because of a grey man far past the prime of life who ran +stumbling, panting, toward them. At his nearer approach a flash of +understanding touched Ufert. Perhaps it was the sheer bulk of the +newcomer; perhaps, more than this, it was something of stern dignity +that oppressed the boy with awe. He fought against the feeling, but he +was uneasy; he wanted to be far away from that place. + +Straight upon them the big grey man strode and halted in front of Nash. + +He said, his voice harsh and broken by his running: "I ordered you to +bring him to me unharmed. What does this mean, Nash?" + +The cowpuncher answered sulkily: "Glendin sent us out." + +"Don't lie. You sent yourself and took these men. I've seen Glendin." + +His wrath was tempered with a sneer. + +"But here you are four against one. Go down and bring him out to me +alive!" + +There was no answer. + +"You said you wanted no odds against any one man." + +"When a man and a woman stand together," answered Nash, "they're worse +than a hundred. That devil, Sally Fortune, is down there with him." + +A gun cracked from the house; the bullet chipped the rock with an evil +clang, and the flake of stone whirled through the air and landed at the +feet of Drew. + +"There's your answer," said Nash. "But we've got the rat cornered." + +"Wrong again. Calamity Ben is going to live--" + +A cry of joy came from Shorty Kilrain. + +"Duffy says that he gave his horse away to Bard. Glendin has called back +your posse. Ride, Nash! Or else go down there unarmed and bring Bard up +to me." + +The shadow of a smile crossed the lips of Nash. + +"If the law's done with him, I'm not. I won't ride, and I won't go down +to him. I've got the upper hand and I'm going to hold it." + +"If you're afraid to go down, I will." + +Drew unbuckled his cartridge belt and tossed it with his gun against the +rocks. He drew out a white handkerchief, and holding it above him, at a +full arm's length, he stepped out from the shelter. The others, +gathering at their places of vantage, watched his progress toward the +house. Steve Nash described it to the wounded men, who had dragged +themselves half erect. + +"He's walkin' right toward the house, wavin' the white rag. They ain't +goin' to shoot. He's goin' around the side of the house. He's stopped +there under the trees." + +"Where?" + +"At that grave of his wife under the two trees. He waits there like he +expected Bard to come out to him. And, by God, there goes Bard to meet +him--right out into the open." + +"Steady, Steve! Drop that gun! If you shoot now you'll have Drew on your +head afterward." + +"Don't I know it? But God, wouldn't it be easy? I got him square inside +the sights. Jest press the trigger and Anthony Bard is done for. He +walks up to Drew. He's got no gun on. He's empty-handed jest like Drew. +He's said something short and quick and starts to step across the grave. + +"Drew points down to it and makes an answer. Bard steps back like he'd +been hit across the face and stands there lookin' at the mound. What did +Drew say? I'd give ten years of life to hear that talk! + +"Bard looks sort of stunned; he stands there with a hand shadin' his +eyes, but the sun ain't that bright. Well, I knew nobody could ever +stand up to Drew. + +"The chief is talkin' fast and hard. The young feller shakes his head. +Drew begins talkin' again. You'd think he was pleadin' for his life in +front of a jury that meant him wrong. His hands go out like he was +makin' an election speech. He holds one hand down like he was measurin' +the height of a kid. He throws up his arms again like he'd lost +everything in the world. + +"And now Bard has dropped the hand from his face. He looks sort of +interested. He steps closer to the grave again. Drew holds out both his +arms. By God, boys, he's pleadin' with Bard. + +"And the head of Bard is dropped. How's it goin' to turn out? Drew wins, +of course. There goes Bard's hand out as if it was pulled ag'in' his +will. Drew catches it in both his own. Boys, here's where we grab our +hosses and beat it." + +He turned from the rocks in haste. + +"What d'you mean?" cried Conklin. "Steve, are you goin' to leave us here +to finish the job you started?" + +"Finish it? You fools! Don't you see that Drew and Bard is pals now? If +we couldn't finish Bard alone, how'd we make out ag'in' the two of them? +The game's up, boys; the thing that's left is for us to save our +hides--if we can--before them two start after us. If they do start, then +God help us all!" + +He was already in the saddle. + +"Wait!" called Conklin. "One of 'em's a tenderfoot. The other has left +his gun here. What we got to fear from 'em?" + +And Nash snarled in return: "If there was a chance, don't you think I'd +take it? Don't you see I'm givin' up everythin' that amounts to a damn +with me? Tenderfoot? He may act Eastern and he may talk Eastern, but +he's got Western blood. There ain't no other way of explainin' it. And +Drew? He didn't have no gun when he busted the back of old Piotto. I +say, there's two men, armed or not, and between 'em they can do more'n +all of us could dream of. Boys, are you comin'?" + +They went. The wounded were dragged to their feet and hoisted to their +horses, groaning. At a slow walk they started down through the trees. +Evening fell; the shadows slanted about them. They moved faster--at a +trot--at a gallop. They were like men flying from a certain ruin. Beyond +the margin of the bright lake they fled and lost themselves in the vast, +secret heart of the mountain-desert. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +SALLY WEEPS + +All that day, in a silence broken only by murmurs and side glances, +Anthony and Sally Fortune moved about the old house from window to +window, and from crack to crack, keeping a steady eye on the commanding +rocks above. In one of those murmurs they made their resolution. When +night came they would rush the rocks, storm them from the front, and +take their chance with what might follow. But the night promised to give +but little shelter to their stalking. + +For in the late afternoon a broad moon was already climbing up from the +east; the sky was cloudless; there was a threat of keen, revealing +moonshine for the night. Only desperation could make them attempt to +storm the rock, but by the next morning, at the latest, reinforcements +were sure to come, and then their fight would be utterly hopeless. + +So when the light of the sun mellowed, grew yellow and slant, and the +shadows sloped from tree to tree, the two became more silent still, +drawn and pale of face, waiting. Anthony at a window, Sally at a crack +which made an excellent loophole, they remained moveless. + +It was she who noted a niche which might serve as a loophole for one of +the posse, and she fired at it, aiming low. The clang of the bullet +against rock echoes clearly back to her, like the soft chime of a sheep +bell from the peaceful distance. Then, as if in answer to her shot, +around the edge of the rocks appeared a moving rag of white which grew +into William Drew, bearing above his head the white sign of the truce. + +In her astonishment she looked to Bard. He was quivering all over like a +hound held on a tight leash, with the game in sight, hungry to be +slipped upon it. The edge of his tongue passed across his colourless +lips. He was like a man who long has ridden the white-hot desert and is +now about to drink. There was the same wild gleam in his eyes; his hand +shook with nervous eagerness as he shifted and balanced his revolver. +Listening, in her awe, she heard the sound of his increasing panting; a +sound like the breath of a running man approaching her swiftly. + +She slipped to his side. + +"Anthony!" + +He did not answer; his gun steadied; the barrel began to incline down; +his left eye was squinting. She dropped to her knees and seized his +wrist. + +"Anthony, what are you going to do?" + +"It's Drew!" he whispered, and she did not recognize his voice. "It's +the grey man I've waited for. It's he!" + +In such a tone a dying man might speak of his hope of heaven--seeing it +unroll before him in his delirium. + +"But he's carrying the flag of truce, Anthony. You see that?" + +"I see nothing except his face. It blots out the rest of the world. I'll +plant my shot there--there in the middle of those lips." + +"Anthony, that's William Drew, the squarest man on the range." + +"Sally Fortune, that's William Drew, who murdered my father!" + +"Ah!" she said, with sharply indrawn breath. "It isn't possible!" + +"I saw the shot fired." + +"But not this way, Anthony; not from behind a wall!" + +His emotion changed him, made him almost a stranger to her. He was +shaking and palsied with eagerness. + +"I could do nothing as bad as the crime he has done. For twenty years +the dread of his coming haunted my father, broke him, aged him +prematurely. Every day he went to a secret room and cared for his +revolver--this gun here in my hand, you see? He and I--we were more than +father and son--we were pals, Sally. And then this devil called my +father out into the night and shot him. Damn him!" + +"You've got to listen to me, Anthony--" + +"I'll listen to nothing, for there he is and--" + +She said with a sharp, rising ring in her voice: "If you shoot at him +while he carries that white flag I'll--I'll send a bullet through your +head--that's straight! We got only one law in the mountains, and that's +the law of honour. If you bust that, I'm done with you, Anthony." + +"Take my gun--take it quickly, Sally, I can't trust myself; looking at +him, I can see the place where the bullet should strike home." + +He forced the butt of his revolver into her hands, rose, and stepped to +the door, his hands clasped behind his back. + +"Tell me what he does." + +"He's comin' straight toward us as if he didn't fear nothin'--grey +William Drew! He's not packin' a gun; he trusts us." + +"The better way," answered Bard. "Bare hands--the better way!" + +"He has killed men with those bare hands of his. I can see 'em +clear--great, blunt-fingered hands, Anthony. He's coming around the side +of the house. I'll go into the front room." + +She ran past Anthony and paused in the habitable room, spying through a +crack in the wall. And Anthony stood with his eyes tightly closed, his +head bowed. The image of the leashed hound came more vividly to her when +she glanced back at him. + +"He's walkin' right up the path. There he stops." + +"Where?" + +"Right beside the old grave." + +"Anthony!" called a deep voice. "Anthony, come out to me!" + +He started, and then groaned and stopped himself. + +"Is the sign of the truce still over his head, Sally?" + +"Yes." + +"I daren't go out to him--I'd jump at his throat." + +She came beside him. + +"It means something besides war. I can see it in his face. Pain--sorrow, +Anthony, but not a wish for fightin'." + +From the left side of his cartridge belt a stout-handled, long-bladed +hunting-knife was suspended. He disengaged the belt and tossed it to the +floor. Still he paused. + +"If I go, I'll break the truce, Sally." + +"You won't; you're a man, Anthony; and remember that you're on the +range, and the law of the range holds you." + +"Anthony!" called the deep voice without. + +He shuddered violently. + +"What is it?" + +"It sounds--like the voice of my father calling me! I must go!" + +She clung to him. + +"Not till you're calmer." + +"My father died in my arms," he answered; "let me go." + +He thrust her aside and strode out through the door. + +On the farther side of the grave stood Drew, his grey head bare, and +looking past him Anthony saw the snow-clad tops of the Little Brother, +grey also in the light of the evening. And the trees whose branches +interwove above the grave--grey also with moss. The trees, the mountain, +the old headstone, the man--they blended into a whole. + +"Anthony!" said the man, "I have waited half my life for this!" + +"And I," said Bard, "have waited a few weeks that seem longer than all +my life, for this!" + +His own eager panting stopped him, but he stumbled on: "I have you here +in reach at last, Drew, and I'm going to tear your heart out, as you +tore the heart out of John Bard." + +"Ah, Anthony," said the other, "my heart was torn out when you were +born; it was torn out and buried here." + +And to the wild eyes of Anthony it seemed as if the great body of Drew, +so feared through the mountain-desert, was now enveloped with weakness, +humbled by some incredible burden. + +After that a mist obscured his eyes; he could not see more than an +outline of the great shape before him; his throat contracted as if a +hand gripped him there, and an odd tingling came at the tips of his +fingers. He moved forward. + +"It is more than I dreamed," he said hoarsely, as his foot planted +firmly on the top of the grave, and he poised himself an instant before +flinging himself on the grey giant. "It is more than I dreamed for--to +face you--alone!" + +And a solemn, even voice answered him, "We are not alone." + +"Not alone, but the others are too far off to stop me." + +"Not alone, Anthony, for your mother is here between us." + +Like a fog under a wind, the mist swept from the eyes of Anthony; he +looked out and saw that the face of the grey man was infinitely sad, and +there was a hungry tenderness that reached out, enveloped, weakened him. +He glanced down, saw that his heel was on the mount of the grave; saw +again the headstone and the time-blurred inscription: "Here sleeps Joan, +the wife of William Drew. She chose this place for rest." + +A mortal weakness and trembling seized him. The wind puffed against his +face, and he went staggering back, his hand caught up to his eyes. + +He closed his mind against the words which he had heard. + +But the deep organ voice spoke again: "Oh, boy, your mother!" + +In the stupor which came over him he saw two faces: the stern eyes of +John Bard, and the dark, mocking beauty of the face which had looked +down to him in John Bard's secret room. He lowered his hand from his +eyes; he stared at William Drew, and it seemed to him that it was John +Bard he looked upon. Their names differed, but long pain had touched +them with a common greyness. And it seemed to Anthony that it was only a +moment ago that the key turned in the lock of John Bard's secret room, +the hidden chamber which he kept like Bluebeard for himself, where he +went like Bluebeard to see his past; only an instant before he had +turned the key in that lock, the door opened, and this was the scene +which met his eyes--the grave, the blurred tombstone, and the stern +figure beyond. + +"Joan," he repeated; "your wife--my mother?" + +He heard a sob, not of pain, but of happiness, and knew that the blue +eyes of Sally Fortune looked out to him from the doorway of the house. + +The low voice, hurried now, broke in on him. + +"When I married Joan, John Bard fled from the range; he could not bear +to look on our happiness. You see, I had won her by chance, and he hated +me for it. If you had ever seen her, Anthony, you would understand. I +crossed the mountains and came here and built this house, for your +mother was like a wild bird, Anthony, and I did not dare to let men near +her; then a son was born, and she died giving him birth. Afterward I +lived on here, close to the place which she had chosen herself for rest. +And I was happy because the boy grew every day into a more perfect +picture of his dead mother. + +"One day when he was almost three I rode off through the hills, and when +I came back the boy was gone. I rode with a posse everywhere, hunting +him; aye, Anthony, the trail which I started then I have kept at ever +since, year after year, and here it ends where it began--at the grave of +Joan! + +"Finally I came on news that a man much like John Bard in appearance had +been seen near my house that day. Then I knew it was Bard in fact. He +had seen the image of the woman we both loved in the boy. He was all +that was left of her on earth. After these years I can read his heart +clearly; I know why he took the boy. + +"Then I left this place. I could not bear the sight of the grave; for +she slept in peace, and I lived in hell waiting for the return of my +son. + +"At last I went east; I was at Madison Square Garden and saw you ride. +It was the face of Joan that looked back at me; and I knew that I was +close to the end of the trail. + +"The next night I called out John Bard. He had been in hell all those +years, like me, for he had waited for my coming. He begged me to let +him have you; said you loved him as a father; I only laughed. So we +fought, and he fell; and then I saw you running over the lawn toward us. + +"I remembered Joan, her pride and her fierceness, and I knew that if I +waited a son would kill his father that night. So I turned and fled +through the trees. Anthony, do you believe me; do you forgive me?" + +The memory of the clumsy, hungered tenderness of John Bard swept about +Anthony. + +He cried: "How can I believe? My father has killed my father; what is +left?" + +The solemn voice replied: "Anthony, my son!" + +He saw the great, blunt-fingered hands which had killed men, which were +feared through the length and breadth of the mountain-desert, stretched +out to him. + +"Anthony Drew!" said the voice. + +His hand went out, feebly, by slow degrees, and was caught in a mighty +double clasp. Warmth flowed through him from that grasp, and a great +emotion troubled him, and a voice from deep to deep echoed within +him--the call of blood to blood. He knew the truth, for the hate burned +out in him and left only an infinite sadness. + +He said: "What of the man who loved me? Whom I love?" + +"I have done penance for that death," answered William Drew, "and I +shall do more penance before I die. For I am only your father in name, +but he is the father in your thoughts and in your love. Is it true?" + +"It is true," said Anthony. + +And the other, bitterly: "In his life he was as strong as I; in his +death he is still stronger. It is his victory; his shadow falls between +us." + +But Anthony answered: "Let us go together and bring his body and bury it +at the left side of--my mother." + +"Lad, it is the one thing we can do together, and after that?" + +A plaintive sound came to the ear of Anthony, and he looked down to see +Sally Fortune weeping at the grave of Joan. Better than both the men she +understood, perhaps. In the deep tenderness which swelled through him he +caught a sense of the drift of life through many generations of the past +and projecting into the future, men and women strong and fair and each +with a high and passionate love. + +The men died and the women changed, but the love persisted with the will +to live. It came from a thousand springs, but it rolled in one river to +one sea. The past stood there in the form of William Drew; he and Sally +made the present, and through his love of her sprang the hope of the +future. + +It was all very clear to him. The love of Bard and Drew for Joan Piotto +had not died, but passed through the flame and the torment of the three +ruined lives and returned again with gathering power as the force which +swept him and Sally Fortune out into that river and toward that far-off +sea. The last mist was brushed from his eyes. He saw with a piercing +vision the world, himself, life. He looked to William Drew and saw that +he was gazing on an old and broken man. + +He said to the old man: "Father, she is wiser than us both." + +And he pointed to Sally Fortune, still weeping softly on the grave of +Joan. + +But William Drew had no eye for her; he was fallen into a deep muse over +the blurred inscription on the headstone. He did not even raise his head +when Anthony touched Sally Fortune on the shoulder. She rose, and they +stole back together toward the house. There, as they stood close +together, Sally murmured: "It is cruel to leave him alone. He needs us +now, close to him." + +His hand wandered slowly across her hair, and he said: "Sally, how close +can we ever be to him?" + +"We can only watch and wait and try to understand," murmured Sally +Fortune. + +They were so close to the door of the ruined house, now, that a taint of +burnt powder crept out to them, a small, keen odour, and with a sudden +desire to protect her, he drew her close to him. There was no tensing of +her body when his arm went around her and he knew with a rush of +tenderness how completely, how perfectly she accepted him. Over the hand +which held her he felt soft fingers settle to keep it in its place, and +when he looked down he found that her face was raised, and the eyes +which brooded on him were misty bright, like the eyes of a child when +joy overflows in it, but awe keeps it quiet. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Trailin'!, by Max Brand + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAILIN'! *** + +***** This file should be named 11093-8.txt or 11093-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/9/11093/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Bill Walker and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Trailin'! + +Author: Max Brand + +Release Date: February 15, 2004 [EBook #11093] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAILIN'! *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Bill Walker and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +TRAILIN'! + +By Max Brand + + +1919 + + +To +ROBERT HOBART DAVIS +Maker of Books and Men + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + +I.------"LA-A-A-DIES AN' GEN'L'MUN" + +II.-----SPORTING CHANCE + +III.----SOCIAL SUICIDE + +IV.-----A SESSION OF CHAT + +V.------ANTHONY IS LEFT IN THE DARK + +VI.-----JOHN BARD + +VII.----BLUEBEARD'S ROOM + +VIII.---MARTY WILKES + +IX.-----"THIS PLACE FOR REST" + +X.------A BIT OF STALKING + +XI.-----THE QUEST BEGINS + +XII.----THE FIRST DAY + +XIII.---A TOUCH OF CRIMSON + +XIV.----LEMONADE + +XV.-----THE DARKNESS IN ELDARA + +XVI.----BLUFF + +XVII.---BUTCH RETURNS + +XVIII.--FOOLISH HABITS + +XIX.----THE CANDLE + +XX.-----JOAN + +XXI.----THE SWIMMING OF THE SAVERACK + +XXII.---DREW SMILES + +XXIII.--THE COMEDY SETTING + +XXIV.---"SAM'L HALL" + +XXV.----HAIR LIKE THE SUNSHINE + +XXVI.---"THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON" + +XXVII.--THE STAGE + +XXVIII.-SALLY BREAKS A MIRROR + +XXIX.---THE SHOW + +XXX.----THE LAMP + +XXXI.---NASH STARTS THE FINISH + +XXXII.--TO "APPREHEND" A MAN + +XXXIII.-NOTHING NEW + +XXXIV.--CRITICISM + +XXXV.---ABANDON + +XXXVI.--JERRY WOOD + +XXXVII.-"TODO ES PERDO" + +XXXVIII.-BACON + +XXXIX.--LEGAL MURDER + +XL.-----PARTNERS + +XLI.----SALLY WEEPS + + +_The characters, places, incidents and situations in this book are +imaginary and have no relation to any person, place or actual +happening_. + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +"LA-A-A-DIES AN' GEN'L'MUN" + +All through the exhibition the two sat unmoved; yet on the whole it was +the best Wild West show that ever stirred sawdust in Madison Square +Garden and it brought thunders of applause from the crowded house. Even +if the performance could not stir these two, at least the throng of +spectators should have drawn them, for all New York was there, from the +richest to the poorest; neither the combined audiences of a seven-day +race, a prize-fight, or a community singing festival would make such a +cosmopolitan assembly. + +All Manhattan came to look at the men who had lived and fought and +conquered under the limitless skies of the Far West, free men, wild +men--one of their shrill whoops banished distance and brought the +mountain desert into the very heart of the unromantic East. +Nevertheless from all these thrills these two men remained immune. + +To be sure the smaller tilted his head back when the horses first swept +in, and the larger leaned to watch when Diaz, the wizard with the +lariat, commenced to whirl his rope; but in both cases their interest +held no longer than if they had been old vaudevillians watching a series +of familiar acts dressed up with new names. + +The smaller, brown as if a thousand fierce suns and winds had tanned and +withered him, looked up at last to his burly companion with a faint +smile. + +"They're bringing on the cream now, Drew, but I'm going to spoil the +dessert." + +The other was a great, grey man whom age apparently had not weakened but +rather settled and hardened into an ironlike durability; the winds of +time or misfortune would have to break that stanch oak before it would +bend. + +He said: "We've half an hour before our train leaves. Can you play your +hand in that time?" + +"Easy. Look at 'em now--the greatest gang of liars that never threw a +diamond hitch! Ride? I've got a ten-year kid home that would laugh at +'em all. But I'll show 'em up. Want to know my little stunt?" + +"I'll wait and enjoy the surprise." + +The wild riders who provoked the scorn of the smaller man were now +gathering in the central space; a formidable crew, long of hair and +brilliant as to bandannas, while the announcer thundered through his +megaphone: + +"La-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun! You see before you the greatest band of +subduers and breakers of wild horses that ever rode the cattle ranges. +Death defying, reckless, and laughing at peril, they have never failed; +they have never pulled leather. I present 'Happy' Morgan!" + +Happy Morgan, yelling like one possessed of ten shrill-tongued demons, +burst on the gallop away from the others, and spurring his horse +cruelly, forced the animal to race, bucking and plunging, half way +around the arena and back to the group. This, then, was a type of the +dare-devil horse breaker of the Wild West? The cheers travelled in waves +around and around the house and rocked back and forth like water pitched +from side to side in a monstrous bowl. + +When the noise abated somewhat, "And this, la-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun, is +the peerless, cowpuncher, 'Bud Reeves.'" + +Bud at once imitated the example of Happy Morgan, and one after another +the five remaining riders followed suit. In the meantime a number of +prancing, kicking, savage-eyed horses were brought into the arena and to +these the master of ceremonies now turned his attention. + +"From the wildest regions of the range we have brought mustangs that +never have borne the weight of man. They fight for pleasure; they buck +by instinct. If you doubt it, step down and try 'em. One hundred dollars +to the man who sticks on the back of one of 'em--but we won't pay the +hospital bill!" + +He lowered his megaphone to enjoy the laughter, and the small man took +this opportunity to say: "Never borne the weight of a man! That chap in +the dress-suit, he tells one lie for pleasure and ten more from +instinct. Yep, he has his hosses beat. Never borne the weight of man! +Why, Drew, I can see the saddle-marks clear from here; I got a mind to +slip down there and pick up the easiest hundred bones that ever rolled +my way." + +He rose to make good his threat, but Drew cut in with: "Don't be a damn +fool, Werther. You aren't part of this show." + +"Well, I will be soon. Watch me! There goes Ananias on his second wind." + +The announcer was bellowing: "These man-killing mustangs will be ridden, +broken, beaten into submission in fair fight by the greatest set of +horse-breakers that ever wore spurs. They can ride anything that walks +on four feet and wears a skin; they can--" + +Werther sprang to his feet, made a funnel of his hand, and shouted: +"Yi-i-i-ip!" + +If he had set off a great quantity of red fire he could not more +effectively have drawn all eyes upon him. The weird, shrill yell cut the +ringmaster short, and a pleased murmur ran through the crowd. Of course, +this must be part of the show, but it was a pleasing variation. + +"Partner," continued Werther, brushing away the big hand of Drew which +would have pulled him down into his seat; "I've seen you bluff for two +nights hand running. There ain't no man can bluff all the world three +times straight." + +The ringmaster retorted in his great voice: "That sounds like good +poker. What's your game?" + +"Five hundred dollars on one card!" cried Werther, and he waved a +fluttering handful of greenbacks. "Five hundred dollars to any man of +your lot--or to any man in this house that can ride a real wild horse." + +"Where's your horse?" + +"Around the corner in a Twenty-sixth Street stable. I'll have him here +in five minutes." + +"Lead him on," cried the ringmaster, but his voice was not quite so +loud. + +Werther muttered to Drew: + +"Here's where I hand him the lemon that'll curdle his cream," and ran +out of the box and straight around the edge of the arena. New York, +murmuring and chuckling through the vast galleries of the Garden, +applauded the little man's flying coat-tails. + +He had not underestimated the time; in a little less than his five +minutes the doors at the end of the arena were thrown wide and Werther +reappeared. Behind him came two stalwarts leading between them a rangy +monster. Before the blast of lights and the murmurs of the throng the +big stallion reared and flung himself back, and the two who lead him +bore down with all their weight on the halter ropes. He literally walked +down the planks into the arena, a strange, half-comical, half-terrible +spectacle. New York burst into applause. It was a trained horse, of +course, but a horse capable of such training was worth applause. + +At that roar of sound, vague as the beat of waves along the shore, the +stallion lurched down on all fours and leaped ahead, but the two on the +halter ropes drove all their weight backward and checked the first +plunge. A bright-coloured scarf waved from a nearby box, and the +monster swerved away. So, twisting, plunging, rearing, he was worked +down the arena. As he came opposite a box in which sat a tall young man +in evening clothes the latter rose and shouted: "Bravo!" + +The fury of the stallion, searching on all sides for a vent but +distracted from one torment to another, centred suddenly on this slender +figure. He swerved and rushed for the barrier with ears flat back and +bloodshot eyes. There he reared and struck at the wood with his great +front hoofs; the boards splintered and shivered under the blows. + +As for the youth in the box, he remained quietly erect before this brute +rage. A fleck of red foam fell on the white front of his shirt. He drew +his handkerchief and wiped it calmly away, but a red stain remained. At +the same time the two who led the stallion pulled him back from the +barrier and he stood with head high, searching for a more convenient +victim. + +Deep silence spread over the arena; more hushed and more hushed it grew, +as if invisible blankets of soundlessness were dropping down over the +stirring masses; men glanced at each other with a vague surmise, knowing +that this was no part of the performance. The whole audience drew +forward to the edge of the seats and stared, first at the monstrous +horse, and next at the group of men who could "ride anything that walks +on four feet and wears a skin." + +Some of the women were already turning away their heads, for this was to +be a battle, not a game; but the vast majority of New York merely +watched and waited and smiled a slow, stiff-lipped smile. All the +surroundings were changed, the flaring electric lights, the vast roof, +the clothes of the multitude, but the throng of white faces was the same +as that pale host which looked down from the sides of the Coliseum when +the lions were loosed upon their victims. + +As for the wild riders from the cattle ranges, they drew into a close +group with the ringmaster between them and the gaunt stallion, almost as +if the fearless ones were seeking for protection. But the announcer +himself lost his almost invincible _sang-froid_; in all his matchless +vocabulary there were no sounding phrases ready for this occasion, and +little Werther strutted in the centre of the great arena, rising to his +opportunity. + +He imitated the ringmaster's phraseology. "La-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun, +the price has gone up. The 'death-defyin', dare-devils that laugh at +danger' ain't none too ready to ride my hoss. Maybe the price is too low +for 'em. It's raised. One thousand dollars--cash--for any man in +hearin' of me that'll ride my pet." + +There was a stir among the cattlemen, but still none of them moved +forward toward the great horse; and as if he sensed his victory he +raised and shook his ugly head and neighed. A mighty laugh answered that +challenge; this was a sort of "horse-humour" that great New York could +not overlook, and in that mirth even the big grey man, Drew, joined. The +laughter stopped with an amazing suddenness making the following silence +impressive as when a storm that has roared and howled about a house +falls mute, then all the dwellers in the house look to one another and +wait for the voice of the thunder. So all of New York that sat in the +long galleries of the Garden hushed its laughter and looked askance at +one another and waited. The big grey man rose and cursed softly. + +For the slender young fellow in evening dress at whom the stallion had +rushed a moment before was stripping off his coat, his vest, and rolling +up the stiff cuffs of his sleeves. Then he dropped a hand on the edge of +the box, vaulted lightly into the arena, and walked straight toward the +horse. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +SPORTING CHANCE + +It might easily have been made melodramatic by any hesitation as he +approached, but, with a businesslike directness, he went right up to the +men who held the fighting horse. + +He said: "Put a saddle on him, boys, and I'll try my hand." + +They could not answer at once, for Werther's "pet," as if he recognized +the newcomer, made a sudden lunge and was brought to a stop only after +he had dragged his sweating handlers around and around in a small +circle. Here Werther himself came running up, puffing with surprise. + +"Son," he said eagerly, "I'm not aiming to do you no harm. I was only +calling the bluff of those four-flushers." + +The slender youth finished rolling up his left sleeve and smiled down at +the other. + +"Put on the saddle," he said. + +Werther looked at him anxiously; then his eyes brightened with a +solution. He stepped closer and laid a hand on the other's arm. + +"Son, if you're broke and want to get the price of a few squares just +say the word and I'll fix you. I been busted myself in my own day, but +don't try your hand with my hoss. He ain't just a buckin' hoss; he's a +man-killer, lad. I'm tellin' you straight. And this floor ain't so soft +as the sawdust makes it look," he ended with a grin. + +The younger man considered the animal seriously. + +"I'm not broke; I've simply taken a fancy to your horse. If you don't +mind, I'd like to try him out. Seems too bad, in a way, for a brute like +that to put it over on ten thousand people without getting a run for his +money--a sporting chance, eh?" + +And he laughed with great good nature. + +"What's your name?" asked Werther, his small eyes growing round and +wide. + +"Anthony Woodbury." + +"Mine's Werther." + +They shook hands. + +"City raised?" + +"Yes." + +"Didn't know they came in this style east of the Rockies, Woodbury. I +hope I lose my thousand, but if there was any betting I'd stake ten to +one against you." + +In the meantime, some of the range-riders had thrown a coat over the +head of the stallion, and while he stood quivering with helpless rage +they flung a saddle on and drew the cinches taut. + +Anthony Woodbury was saying with a smile: "Just for the sake of the +game, I'll take you on for a few hundred, Mr. Werther, if you wish, but +I can't accept odds." + +Werther ran a finger under his collar apparently to facilitate +breathing. His eyes, roving wildly, wandered over the white, silent mass +of faces, and his glance picked out and lingered for a moment on the +big-shouldered figure of Drew, erect in his box. At last his glance came +back with an intent frown to Woodbury. Something in the keen eyes of the +lad raised a responsive flicker in his own. + +"Well, I'll be damned! Just a game, eh? Lad, no matter on what side of +the Rockies you were born, I know your breed and I won't lay a penny +against your money. There's the hoss saddled and there's the floor +you'll land on. Go to it--and God help you!" + +The other shook his shoulders back and stepped toward the horse with a +peculiarly unpleasant smile, like a pugilist coming out of his corner +toward an opponent of unknown prowess. + +He said: "Take off the halter." + +One of the men snapped viciously over his shoulder: "Climb on while the +climbing's good. Cut out the bluff, partner." + +The smile went out on the lips of Woodbury. He repeated: "Take off the +halter." + +They stared at him, but quickly began to fumble under the coat, +unfastening the buckle. It required a moment to work off the heavy +halter without giving the blinded animal a glimpse of the light; then +Woodbury caught the bridle reins firmly just beneath the chin of the +horse. With the other hand he took the stirrup strap and raised his +foot, but he seemed to change his mind about this matter. + +"Take off the blinder," he ordered. + +It was Werther who interposed this time with: "Look here, lad, I know +this hoss. The minute the blinder's off he'll up on his hind legs and +bash you into the floor with his forefeet." + +"Let him go," growled one of the cowboys. "He's goin' to hell making a +gallery play." + +But taking the matter into his own hands Woodbury snatched the coat from +the head of the stallion, which snorted and reared up, mouth agape ears +flattened back. There was a shout from the man, not a cry of dismay, but +a ringing battle yell like some ancient berserker seeing the first flash +of swords in the melee. He leaped forward, jerking down on the bridle +reins with all the force of his weight and his spring. The horse, caught +in mid-air, as it were, came floundering down on all fours again. Before +he could make another move, Woodbury caught the high horn of the saddle +and vaulted up to his seat. It was gallantly done and in response came a +great rustling from the multitude; there was not a spoken word, but +every man was on his feet. + +Perhaps what followed took their breaths and kept them speechless. The +first touch of his rider's weight sent the stallion mad, not blind with +fear as most horses go, but raging with a devilish cunning like that of +an insane man, a thing that made the blood run cold to watch. He stood a +moment shuddering, as if the strange truth were slowly dawning on his +brute mind; then he bolted straight for the barriers. Woodbury braced +himself and lunged back on the reins, but he might as well have tugged +at the mooring cable of a great ship; the bit was in the monster's +teeth. + +Then a whisper reached the rider, a universal hushing of drawn breath, +for the thousands were tasting the first thrill and terror of the +combat. They saw a picture of horse and man crushed against the barrier. +But there was no such stupid rage in the mind of the stallion. + +At the last moment he swerved and raced close beside the fence; some +projecting edge caught the trousers of Woodbury and ripped away the +stout cloth from hip to heel. He swung far to the other side and +wrenched back the reins. With stiff-braced legs the stallion slid to a +halt that flung his unbalanced rider forward along his neck. Before he +could straighten himself in the saddle, the horse roared and came down +on rigid forelegs, yet by a miracle Woodbury clung, sprawled down the +side of the monster, to be sure, but was not quite dismounted. + +Another pitch of the same nature would have freed the stallion from his +rider beyond doubt, but he elected to gallop full speed ahead the length +of the arena, and during that time, Woodbury, stunned though he was, +managed to drag himself back into the saddle. The end of the race was a +leap into the air that would have cleared a five-bar fence, and down +pitched the fighting horse on braced legs again. Woodbury's chin snapped +down against his breast as though he had been struck behind the head +with a heavy bar, but though his brain was stunned, the fighting +instinct remained strong in him and when the stallion reared and toppled +back the rider slipped from the saddle in the nick of time. + +Fourteen hundred pounds of raging horseflesh crashed into the sawdust; +he rolled like a cat to his feet, but at the same instant a flying +weight leaped through the air and landed in the saddle. The audience +awoke to sound--to a dull roar of noise; a thin trickle of blood ran +from Woodbury's mouth and it seemed that the mob knew it and was yelling +for a death. + +There followed a bewildering exhibition of such bucking that the +disgruntled cowboys forgot their shame and shouted with joy. Upon his +hind legs and then down on his forefeet with a sickening heartbreaking +jar the stallion rocked; now he bucked from side to side; now rose and +whirled about like a dancer; now toppled to the ground and twisted again +to his feet. + +Still the rider clung. His head rocked with the ceaseless jars; the +red-stained lips writhed back and showed the locked teeth. Yet, as if he +scorned the struggles of the stallion, he brought into play the heavy +quirt which had been handed him as he mounted. Over neck and shoulders +and tender flanks he whirled the lash; it was not intelligence fighting +brute strength, but one animal conquering another and rejoicing in the +battle. + +The horse responded, furiously he responded, but still the lash fell, +and the bucking grew more cunning, perhaps, but less violent. Yet to the +wildly cheering audience the fight seemed more dubious than ever. Then, +in the very centre of the arena, the stallion stopped in the midst of a +twisting course of bucking and stood with widely braced legs and fallen +head. Strength was left in him, but the cunning, savage mind knew +defeat. + +Once more the quirt whirled in the air and fell with a resounding crack, +but the stallion merely switched his tail and started forward at a +clumsy stumbling trot. The thunder of the host was too hoarse for +applause; they saw a victory and a defeat but what they had wanted was +blood, and a death. They had had a promise and a taste; now they +hungered for the reality. + +Woodbury slipped from the saddle and gave the reins to Werther. Already +a crowd was growing about them of the curious who had sprung over the +barriers and swarmed across the arena to see the conqueror, for had he +not vindicated unanswerably the strength of the East as compared with +that of the West? Boys shouted shrilly; men shouldered each other to +slap him on the back; but Werther merely held forth the handful of +greenbacks. The conqueror braced himself against the saddle with a +trembling hand and shook his head. + +"Not for me," he said, "I ought to pay you--ten times that much for the +sport--compared to this polo is nothing." + +"Ah," muttered those who overheard, "polo! That explains it!" + +"Then take the horse," said Werther, "because no one else could ride +him." + +"And now any one can ride him, so I don't want him," answered Woodbury. + +And Werther grinned. "You're right, boy. I'll give him to the iceman." + +The big grey man, William Drew, loomed over the heads of the little +crowd, and they gave way before him as water divides under the prow of a +ship; it was as if he cast a shadow which they feared before him. + +"Help me through this mob," said Woodbury to Werther, "and back to my +box. Devil take it, my overcoat won't cover that leg." + +Then on him also fell, as it seemed, the approaching shadow of the grey +man and he looked up with something of a start into the keen eyes of +Drew. + +"Son," said the big man, "you look sort of familiar to me. I'm asking +your pardon, but who was your mother?" + +The eyes of young Woodbury narrowed and the two stood considering each +other gravely for a long moment. + +"I never saw her," he said at last, and then turned with a frown to work +his way through the crowd and back to his box. + +The tall man hesitated a moment and then started in pursuit, but the mob +intervened. He turned back to Werther. + +"Did you get his name?" he asked. + +"Fine bit of riding he showed, eh?" cried the little man, "and turned +down my thousand as cool as you please. I tell you, Drew, there's some +flint in the Easterners after all!" + +"Damn the Easterners. What's his name?" + +"Woodbury. Anthony Woodbury." + +"Woodbury?" + +"What's wrong with that name?" + +"Nothing. Only I'm a bit surprised." + +And he frowned with a puzzled, wistful expression, staring straight +ahead like a man striving to solve a great riddle. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +SOCIAL SUICIDE + +At his box, Woodbury stopped only to huddle into his coat and overcoat +and pull his hat down over his eyes. Then he hurried on toward an exit, +but even this slight delay brought the reporters up with him. They had +scented news as the eagle sights prey far below, and then swooped down +on him. He continued his flight shaking off their harrying questions, +but they kept up the running fight and at the door one of them reached +his side with: "It's Mr. Woodbury of the Westfall Polo Club, son of Mr. +John Woodbury of Anson Place?" + +Anthony Woodbury groaned with dismay and clutched the grinning reporter +by the arm. + +"Come with me!" + +Prospects of a scoop of a sizable nature brightened the eyes of the +reporter. He followed in all haste, and the other news-gatherers, in +obedience to the exacting, unspoken laws of their craft, stood back and +followed the flight with grumbling envy. + +On Twenty-Sixth Street, a little from the corner of Madison Avenue, +stood a big touring car with the chauffeur waiting in the front seat. +There were still some followers from the Garden. + +Woodbury jumped into the back seat, drew the reporter after him, and +called: "Start ahead, Maclaren--drive anywhere, but get moving." + +"Now, sir," turning to the reporter as the engine commenced to hum, +"what's your name?" + +"Bantry." + +"Bantry? Glad to know you." + +He shook hands. + +"You know me?" + +"Certainly. I cover sports all the way from polo to golf. Anthony +Woodbury--Westfall Polo Club--then golf, tennis, trap shooting--" + +"Enough!" groaned the victim. "Now look here, Bantry, you have me dead +to rights--got me with the goods, so to speak, haven't you?" + +"It was a great bit of work; ought to make a first-page story." + +And the other groaned again. "I know--son of millionaire rides unbroken +horse in Wild West show--and all that sort of thing. But, good Lord, +man, think what it will mean to me?" + +"Nothing to be ashamed of, is it? Your father'll be proud of you." + +Woodbury looked at him sharply. + +"How do you know that?" + +"Any man would be." + +"But the notoriety, man! It would kill me with a lot of people as +thoroughly as if I'd put the muzzle of a gun in my mouth and pulled the +trigger." + +"H-m!" muttered the reporter, "sort of social suicide, all right. But +it's news, Mr. Woodbury, and the editor--" + +"Expects you to write as much as the rest of the papers print--and none +of the other reporters know me." + +"One or two of them might have." + +"But my dear fellow--won't you take a chance?" + +Bantry made a wry face. + +"Madison Square Garden," went on Woodbury bitterly. "Ten thousand people +looking on--gad, man, it's awful." + +"Why'd you do it, then?" + +"Couldn't help it, Bantry. By Jove, when that wicked devil of a horse +came at my box and I caught a glimpse of the red demon in his eyes--why, +man, I simply had to get down and try my luck. Ever play football?" + +"Yes, quite a while ago." + +"Then you know how it is when you're in the bleachers and the whistle +blows for the game to begin. That's the way it was with me. I wanted to +climb down into the field--and I did. Once started, I couldn't stop +until I'd made a complete ass of myself in the most spectacular style. +Now, Bantry, I appeal to you for the sake of your old football days, +don't show me up--keep my name quiet." + +"I'd like to--damned if I wouldn't--but--a scoop--" + +Anthony Woodbury considered his companion with a strange yearning. It +might have been to take him by the throat; it might have been some +gentler motive, but his hand stole at last toward an inner coat pocket. + +He said: "I know times are a bit lean now and then in your game, Bantry. +I wonder if you could use a bit of the long green? Just now I'm very +flush, and--" + +He produced a thickly stuffed bill-fold, but Bantry smiled and touched +Woodbury's arm. + +"Couldn't possibly, you know." + +He considered a moment and then, with a smile: "It's a bit awkward for +both of us, isn't it? Suppose I keep your name under my hat and you give +me a few little inside tips now and then on polo news, and that sort of +thing?" + +"Here's my hand on it. You've no idea what a load you take off my mind." + +"We've circled about and are pretty close to the Garden again. Could you +let me out here?" + +The car rolled to an easy stop and the reporter stepped out. + +"I'll forget everything you wish, Mr. Woodbury." + +"It's an honour to have met you, sir. Use me whenever you can. +Goodnight." + +To the chauffeur he said: "Home, and make it fast." + +They passed up Lexington with Maclaren "making it fast," so that the big +car was continually nosing its way around the machines in front with +much honking of the horn. At Fifty-Ninth Street they turned across to +the bridge and hummed softly across the black, shimmering waters of the +East River; by the time they reached Brooklyn a fine mist was beginning +to fall, blurring the wind-shield, and Maclaren slowed up perceptibly, +so that before they passed the heart of the city, Woodbury leaned +forward and said: "What's the matter, Maclaren?" + +"Wet streets--no chains--this wind-shield is pretty hard to see +through." + +"Stop her, then. I'll take the wheel the rest of the way. Want to travel +a bit to-night." + +The chauffeur, as if this exchange were something he had been expecting, +made no demur, and a moment later, with Woodbury at the wheel, the motor +began to hum again in a gradually increasing crescendo. Two or three +motor-police glanced after the car as it snapped about corners with an +ominous skid and straightened out, whining, on the new street; but in +each case, having made a comfortable number of arrests that day, they +had little heart for the pursuit of the grey monster through that chill +mist. + +Past Brooklyn, with a country road before them, Woodbury cut out the +muffler and the car sprang forward with a roar. A gust of increasing +wind whipped back to Maclaren, for the wind-shield had been opened so +that the driver need not look through the dripping glass and mingling +with the wet gale were snatches of singing. + +The chauffeur, partly in understanding and partly from anxiety, +apparently, caught the side of the seat in a firm grip and leaned +forward to break the jar when they struck rough places. Around an elbow +turn they went with one warning scream of the Klaxon, skidded horribly +at the sharp angle of the curve, and missed by inches a car from the +opposite direction. + +They swept on with the startled yell of the other party ringing after +them, drowned at once by the crackling of the exhaust. Maclaren raised a +furtive hand to wipe from his forehead a moisture which was not +altogether rain, but immediately grasped the side of the seat again. +Straight ahead the road swung up to meet a bridge and dropped sharply +away from it on the further side. Maclaren groaned but the sound was +lost in the increasing roar of the exhaust. + +They barely touched that bridge and shot off into space on the other +side like a hurdler clearing an obstacle. With a creak and a thud the +big car landed, reeled drunkenly, and straightened out in earnest, +Maclaren craned his head to see the speedometer, but had not the heart +to look; he began to curse softly, steadily. + +When the muffler went on again and the motor was reduced to a loud, +angry humming, Woodbury caught a few phrases of those solemn +imprecations. He grinned into the black heart of the night, streaked +with lines of grey where therein entered the halo of the headlights, and +then swung the car through an open, iron gate. The motor fell to a +drowsily contented murmur that blended with the cool swishing of the +tires on wet gravel. + +"Maclaren," said the other, as he stopped in front of the garage, "if +everyone was as good a passenger as you I'd enjoy motoring; but after +all, a car can't act up like a horse." He concluded gloomily: "There's +no fight in it." + +And he started toward the house, but Maclaren, staring after the +departing figure, muttered: "There's only one sort that's worse than a +damn fool, and that's a young one." + +It was through a door opening off the veranda that Anthony entered the +house, stealthily as a burglar, and with the same nervous apprehension. +Before him stretched a wide hall, dimly illumined by a single light +which splashed on the Italian table and went glimmering across the +floor. Across the hall was his destination--the broad balustraded +staircase, which swept grandly up to the second floor. Toward this he +tiptoed steadying himself with one hand against the wall. Almost to his +goal, he heard a muffled footfall and shrank against the wall with a +catlike agility, but, though the shadow fell steep and gloomy there, +luck was against him. + +A middle-aged servant of solemn port, serene with the twofold dignity of +double chin and bald head, paused at the table in his progress across +the room, and swept the apartment with the judicial eye of one who knows +that everything is as it should be but will not trust even the silence +of night. So that bland blue eye struck first on the faintly shining +top hat of Anthony, ran down his overcoat, and lingered in gloomy dismay +on the telltale streak of white where the trouser leg should have been. + +What he thought not even another Oedipus could have conjectured. The +young master very obviously did not wish to be observed, and in such +times Peters at could be blinder than the bat noon-day and more secret +than the River Styx. He turned away, unhurried, the fold of that double +chin a little more pronounced over the severe correctness of his collar. + +A very sibilant whisper pursued him. He stopped again, still without +haste, and turned not directly toward Anthony, but at a discreet angle, +with his eyes fixed firmly upon the ceiling. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +A SESSION OF CHAT + +The whisper grew distinct in words. + +"Peters, you old numskull, come here!" + +The approach of Peters was something like the sidewise waddle of a very +aged crab. He looked to the north, but his feet carried him to the east. +That he was much moved was attested by the colour which had mounted even +to the gleaming expanse of that nobly bald head. + +"Yes, Master Anthony--I mean Mr. Anthony?" + +He set his teeth at the _faux pas_. + +"Peters, look at me. Confound it, I haven't murdered any one. Are you +busy?" + +It required whole seconds for the eyes to wheel round upon Anthony, and +they were immediately debased from the telltale white of that leg to the +floor. + +"No, sir." + +"Then come up with me and help me change. Quick!" + +He turned and fled noiselessly up the great stairs, with Peters panting +behind. Anthony's overcoat was off before he had fairly entered his room +and his coat and vest flopped through the air as Peters shut the door. +Whatever the old servant lacked in agility he made up in certain +knowledge; as he laid out a fresh tuxedo, Anthony changed with the speed +of one pursued. The conversation was spasmodic to a degree. + +"Where's father? Waiting in the library?" + +"Yes. Reading, sir." + +"Had a mix-up--bully time, though--damn this collar! Peters, I wish +you'd been there--where's those trousers? Rub some of the crease out of +'em--they must look a _little_ worn." + +He stood at last completely dressed while Peters looked on with a +shining eye and a smile which in a younger man would have suggested many +things. + +"How is it? Will I pass father this way?" + +"I hope so, sir." + +"But you don't think so?" + +"It's hard to deceive him." + +"Confound it! Don't I know? Well, here's for a try. Soft-foot it down +stairs. I'll go after you and bang the door. Then you say good-evening +in a loud voice and I'll go into the library. How's that?" + +"Very good--your coat over your arm--so! Just ruffle your hair a bit, +sir--now you should do very nicely." + +At the door: "Go first, Peters--first, man, and hurry, but watch those +big feet of yours. If you make a noise on the stairs I'm done with you." + +The noiselessness of the descending feet was safe enough, but not so +safe was the chuckling of Peters for, though he fought against the +threatening explosion, it rumbled like the roll of approaching thunder. +In the hall below, Anthony opened and slammed the door. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Anthony," said Peters loudly, too loudly. + +"Evening, Peters. Where's father?" + +"In the library, sir. Shall I take your coat?" + +"I'll carry it up to my room when I go. That's all." + +He opened the door to the library and entered with a hope that his +father would not be facing him, but he found that John Woodbury was not +even reading. He sat by the big fire-place smoking a pipe which he now +removed slowly from his teeth. + +"Hello, Anthony." + +"Good-evening, sir." + +He rose to shake hands with his son: they might have been friends +meeting after a separation so long that they were compelled to be +formal, and as Anthony turned to lay down his hat and coat he knew that +the keen grey eyes studied him carefully from head to foot. + +"Take this chair." + +"Why, sir, wouldn't dream of disturbing you." + +"Not a bit. I want you to try it; just a trifle too narrow for me." + +John Woodbury rose and gestured his son to the chair he had been +occupying. Anthony hesitated, but then, like one who obeys first and +thinks afterward, seated himself as directed. + +"Mighty comfortable, sir." + +The big man stood with his hands clasped behind him, peering down under +shaggy, iron-grey brows. + +"I thought it would be. I designed it myself for you and I had a pretty +bad time getting it made." + +He stepped to one side. + +"Hits you pretty well under the knees, doesn't it? Yes, it's deeper than +most." + +"A perfect fit, father, and mighty thoughtful of you." + +"H-m," rumbled John Woodbury, and looked about like one who has +forgotten something. "What about a glass of Scotch?" + +"Nothing, thank you--I--in fact I'm not very strong for the stuff." + +The rough brows rose a trifle and fell. + +"No? But isn't it usual? Better have a go." + +Once more there was that slight touch of hesitancy, as if the son were +not quite sure of the father and wished to make every concession. + +"Certainly, if it'll make you easier." + +There was an instant softening of the hard lines of the elder Woodbury's +face, as though some favour of import had been done him. He touched a +bell-cord and lowered himself with a little grunt of relaxation into a +chair. The chair was stoutly built, but it groaned a little under the +weight of the mighty frame it received. He leaned back and in his face +was a light which came not altogether from the comfortable glow of the +fire. + +And when the servant appeared the big man ordered: "Scotch and seltzer +and one glass with a pitcher of ice." + +"Aren't you taking anything, sir?" asked Anthony. + +"Who, me? Yes, yes, of course. Why, let me see--bring me a pitcher of +beer." He added as the servant disappeared: "Never could get a taste for +Scotch, and rye doesn't seem to be--er--good form. Eh, Anthony?" + +"Nonsense," frowned the son, "haven't you a right to be comfortable in +your own house?" + +"Come, come!" rumbled John Woodbury. "A young fellow in your position +can't have a boor for a father, eh?" + +It was apparently an old argument between them, for Anthony stared +gloomily at the fire, making no attempt to reply; and he glanced up in +relief when the servant entered with the liquor. John Woodbury, however, +returned to the charge as soon as they were left alone again, saying: +"As a matter of fact, I'm about to set you up in an establishment of +your own in New York." He made a vastly inclusive gesture. "Everything +done up brown--old house--high-class interior decorator, to get you +started with a splash." + +"Are you tired of Long Island?" + +"_I'm_ not going to the city, but you will." + +"And my work?" + +"A gentleman of the class you'll be in can't callous his hands with +work. I spent my life making money; you can use your life throwing it +away--like a gentleman. But"--he reached out at this point and smashed a +burly fist into a palm hardly less hard--"but I'll be damned, Anthony, +if I'll let you stay here in Long Island wasting your time riding the +wildest horses you can get and practising with an infernal revolver. +What the devil do you mean by it?" + +"I don't know," said the other, musing. "Of course the days of revolvers +are past, but I love the feel of the butt against my palm--I love the +kick of the barrel tossing up--I love the balance; and when I have a +six-shooter in my hand, sir, I feel as if I had six lives. Odd, isn't +it?" He grew excited as he talked, his eyes gleaming with dancing points +of fire. "And I'll tell you this, sir: I'd rather be out in the country +where men still wear guns, where the sky isn't stained with filthy coal +smoke, where there's an horizon wide enough to breathe in, where there's +man-talk instead of this damned chatter over tea-cups--" + +"Stop!" cried John Woodbury, and leaned forward, "no matter what fool +ideas you get into your head--you're going to be a _gentleman_!" + +The swaying forward of that mighty body, the outward thrust of the jaws, +the ring of the voice, was like the crashing of an ax when armoured men +meet in battle. The flicker in the eyes of Anthony was the rapier which +swerves from the ax and then leaps at the heart. For a critical second +their glances crossed and then the habit of obedience conquered. + +"I suppose you know, sir." + +The father stared gloomily at the floor. + +"You're sort of mad, Anthony?" + +Perhaps there was nothing more typical of Anthony than that he never +frowned, no matter how angered he might be. Now the cold light passed +from his eyes. He rose and passed behind the chair of the elder man, +dropping a hand upon those massive shoulders. + +"Angry with myself, sir, that I should so nearly fall out with the +finest father that walks the earth." + +The eyes of the grey man half closed and a semblance of a smile touched +those stiff, stern lips; one of the great work-broken hands went up and +rested on the fingers of his son. + +"And there'll be no more of this infernal Western nonsense that you're +always reverting to? No more of this horse-and-gun-and-hell-bent-away +stuff?" + +"I suppose not," said Anthony heavily. + +"Well, Anthony, sit down and tell me about tonight." + +The son obeyed, and finally said, with difficulty: "I didn't go to the +Morrison supper." + +A sudden cloud of white rose from the bowl of Woodbury's pipe. + +"But I thought--" + +"That it was a big event? It was--a fine thing for me to get a bid to; +but I went to the Wild West show instead. Sir, I know it was childish, +but--I couldn't help it! I saw the posters; I thought of the +horse-breaking, the guns, the swing and snap and dash of galloping men, +the taint of sweating horses--and by God, sir, I _couldn't_ stay away! +Are you angry?" + +It was more than anger; it was almost fear that widened the eye of +Woodbury as he stared at his son. He said at last, controlling himself: +"But I have your word; you've given up the thought of this Western +life?" + +"Yes," answered Anthony, with a touch of despair, "I have given it up, I +suppose. But, oh, sir--" He stopped, hopeless. + +"And what else happened?" + +"Nothing to speak of." + +"After you come home you don't usually change your clothes merely for +the pleasure of sitting with me here." + +"Nothing escapes you, does it?" muttered Anthony. + +"In your set, Anthony, that's what they'd call an improper question." + +"I could ask you any number of questions, sir, for that matter." + +"Well?" + +"That room over there, for instance, which you always keep locked. Am I +never to have a look at it?" + +He indicated a door which opened from the library. + +"I hope not." + +"You say that with a good deal of feeling. But there's one thing more +that I have a right to hear about. My mother! Why do you never tell me +of her?" + +The big man stirred and the chair groaned beneath him. + +"Because it tortures me to speak of her, Anthony," said the husky voice. +"Tortures me, lad!" + +"I let the locked room go," said Anthony firmly, "but my mother--she is +different. Why, sir, I don't even know how she looked! Dad, it's my +right!" + +"Is it? By God, you have a right to know exactly what I choose to tell +you--no more!" + +He rose, strode across the room with ponderous steps, drew aside the +curtains which covered the view of the garden below, and stared for a +time into the night. When he turned he found that Anthony had risen--a +slender, erect figure. His voice was as quiet as his anger, but an +inward quality made it as thrilling as the hoarse boom of his father. + +"On that point I stick. I must know something about her." + +"Must?" + +"In spite of your anger. That locked room is yours; this house and +everything in it is yours; but my mother--she was as much mine as yours, +and I'll hear more about her--who she was, what she looked like, where +she lived--" + +The sharply indrawn breath of John Woodbury cut him short. + +"She died in giving birth to you, Anthony." + +"Dear God! She died for me?" + +And in the silence which came over the two men it seemed as if another +presence were in the room. John Woodbury stood at the fire-place with +bowed head, and Anthony shaded his eyes and stared at the floor until he +caught a glimpse of the other and went gently to him. + +He said: "I'm sorrier than a lot of words could tell you. Will you sit +down, sir, and let me tell you how I came to press home the question?" + +"If you want to have it that way." + +They resumed their chairs. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +ANTHONY IS LEFT IN THE DARK + +"It will explain why I changed my clothes after I came home. You see, +toward the end of the show a lot of the cowboys rode in. The ringmaster +was announcing that they could ride anything that walked on four feet +and wore a skin, when up jumped an oldish fellow in a box opposite mine +and shouted that he had a horse which none of them could mount. He +offered five hundred dollars to the man who could back him; and made it +good by going out of the building and coming back inside of five minutes +with two men leading a great stallion, the ugliest piece of horseflesh +I've ever seen. + +"As they worked the brute down the arena, it caught sight of my white +shirt, I suppose, for it made a dive at me, reared up, and smashed its +forehoofs against the barrier. By Jove, a regular maneater! Brought my +heart into my mouth to see the big devil raging, and I began to yearn to +get astride him and to--well, just fight to see which of us would come +out on top. You know?" + +The big man moistened his lips; he was strangely excited. + +"So you climbed into the arena and rode the horse?" + +"Exactly! I knew you'd understand! After I'd ridden the horse to a +standstill and climbed off, a good many people gathered around me. One +of them was a big man, about your size. In fact, now that I look back at +it, he was a good deal like you in more ways than one; looked as if time +had hardened him without making him brittle. He came to me and said: +'Excuse me, son, but you look sort of familiar to me. Mind telling me +who your mother was?' What could I answer to a--" + +A shadow fell across Anthony from the rising height of his father. As he +looked up he saw John Woodbury glance sharply, first toward the French +windows and then at the door of the secret room. + +"Was that all, Anthony?" + +"Yes, about all." + +"I want to be alone." + +The habit of automatic obedience made Anthony rise in spite of the +questions which were storming at his lips. + +"Good-night, sir." + +"Good-night, my boy." + +At the door the harsh voice of his father overtook him. + +"Before you leave the house again, see me, Anthony." + +"Yes, sir." + +He closed the door softly, as one deep in thought, and stood for a time +without moving. Because a man had asked him who his mother was, he was +under orders not to leave the house. While he stood, he heard a faint +click of a snapping lock within the library and knew that John Woodbury +had entered the secret room. + +In his own bedroom he undressed slowly and afterward stood for a long +time under the shower, rubbing himself down with the care of an athlete, +thumbing the soreness of the wild ride out of the lean, sinewy muscles, +for his was a made strength built up in the gymnasium and used on the +wrestling mat, the cinder path, and the football field. Drying himself +with a rough towel that whipped the pink into his skin, he looked down +over his corded, slender limbs, remembered the thick arms and Herculean +torso of John Woodbury, and wondered. + +He sat on the edge of his bed, wrapped in a bathrobe, and pondered. +Stroke by stroke he built the picture of that dead mother, like a +painter who jots down the first sketch of a large composition. John +Woodbury, vast, blond, grey-eyed, had given him few of his physical +traits. But then he had often heard that the son usually resembled the +mother. She must have been dark, slender, a frail wife for such a giant; +but perhaps she had a strength of spirit which made her his mate. + +As the picture drew out more clearly in the mind of Anthony, he turned +from the lighted room, threw open a window, and leaned out to breathe +the calm, damp air of night. + +It was infinitely cool, infinitely fresh. To his left a row of young +trees darted their slender tops at the sky like shadowy spearheads. The +smell of wet leaves and the wet grass beneath rose up to him. To the +right, for his own room stood in a wing of the mansion, the house +shouldered its way into the gloom, a solemn, grey shadow, netted in a +black tracery of climbing vine. In all the stretch of wall only two +windows were lighted, and those yellow squares, he knew, belonged to his +father. He had left the secret room, therefore. + +As he watched, a shadow brushed slowly across one of the drawn shades, +swept the second, and returned at once in the opposite direction. Back +and forth, back and forth, that shadow moved, and as his eye grew +accustomed to watching, he caught quite clearly the curve of the +shoulders and the forward droop of the head. + +It was not until then that the first alarm came to Anthony, for he knew +that the footsteps of the big grey man were dogged by fear. He could no +more conceive it than he could imagine noon and midnight in conjunction, +and feeling as guilty as if he had played the part of an eavesdropper he +turned away, snapped off the lights, and slipped into bed. + +The pleasant warmth of sleep would not come. In its place the images of +the day filed past him like the dance of figures on a motion picture +screen, and always, like the repeated entrance of the hero, the other +images grew small and dim. He saw again the burly stranger wading +through the crowd in the arena, shaking off the packed mob as the prow +of a stately ship shakes off the water, to either side. + +At length he started out of bed and glanced through the window. The +moving shadow still swept across the lighted shades of his father's +room; so he donned bathrobe and slippers and went down the long hall. At +the door he did not stop to knock, for he was too deeply concerned by +this time to pay any heed to convention. He grasped the knob and threw +the door wide open. What happened then was so sudden that he could not +be sure afterward what he had seen. He was certain that the door opened +on a lighted room, yet before he could step in the lights were snapped +out. + +He was staring into a deep void of night; and a silence came about him +like a whisper. Out of that silence he thought after a second that he +caught the sound of a hurried breathing, louder and louder, as though +someone were creeping upon him. He glanced over his shoulder in a slight +panic, but down the grey hall on either side there was nothing to be +seen. Once more he looked back into the solemn room, opened his lips to +speak, changed his mind, and closed the door again. + +Yet when he looked down again from his own room the lights shone once +more on the shades of his father's windows. Past them brushed the shadow +of the pacing man, up and down, up and down. He turned his eyes away to +the jagged tops of the young trees, to the glimpses of dark fields +beyond them, and inhaled the scent of the wet, green things. It seemed +to Anthony as if it all were hostile--as though the whole outdoors were +besieging this house. + +He caught the sway of the pacing figure whose shadow moved in regular +rhythm across the yellow shades. It entered his mind, clung there, and +finally he began to pace in the same cadence, up and down the room. With +every step he felt that he was entering deeper into the danger which +threatened John Woodbury. What danger? For answer to himself he stepped +to the windows and pulled down the shades. At least he could be alone. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +JOHN BARD + +There is no cleanser of the mind like a morning bath. The same cold, +whipping spray which calls up the pink blood, glowing through the marble +of the skin, drives the ache of sleep from the brain, and washes away at +once all the recorded thoughts of yesterday. So in place of a crowded +slate of wonders and doubts, Anthony bore down to the breakfast table a +willingness to take what the morning might bring and forget the night +before. + +John Woodbury was already there, helping himself from the covered +dishes, for the meal was served in the English style. There was the +usual "Good-morning, sir," "Good-morning, Anthony," and then they took +their places at the table. A cautious survey of the craglike face of his +father showed no traces of a sleepless night; but then, what could a +single night of unrest mean to that body of iron? + +He ventured, remembering the implied command to remain within the house +until further orders: "You asked me to speak to you, sir, before I left +the house. I'd rather like to take a ride this morning." + +And the imperturbable voice replied: "You've worn your horses out +lately. Better give them a day of rest." + +That was all, but it brought back to Anthony the thought of the shadow +which had swept ceaselessly across the yellow shades of his father's +room; and he settled down to a day of reading. The misty rain of the +night before had cleared the sky of its vapours, so he chose a nook in +the library where the bright spring sun shone full and the open fire +supplied the warmth. At lunch his father did not appear, and Peters +announced that the master was busy in his room with papers. The +afternoon repeated the morning, but with less unrest on the part of +Anthony. He was busy with _L'Assommoir_, and lost himself in the story +of downfall, surrounding himself with each unbeautiful detail. + +Lunch was repeated at dinner, for still John Woodbury seemed to be "busy +with papers in his room." A fear came to Anthony that he was to be +dodged indefinitely in this manner, deceived like a child, and kept in +the house until the silent drama was played out. But when he sat in the +library that evening his father came in and quietly drew up a chair by +the fire. The stage was ideally set for a confidence, but none was +forthcoming. The fire shook long, sleepy shadows through the room, the +glow of the two floor-lamps picked out two circles of light, and still +the elder man sat over his paper and would not speak. + +_L'Assommoir_ ended, and to rid himself of the grey tragedy, Anthony +looked up and through the windows toward the bright night which lay over +the gardens and terraces outside, for a full moon silvered all with a +flood of light. It was a waiting time, and into it the old-fashioned +Dutch clock in the corner sent its voice with a monotonous, softly +clanging toll of seconds, until Anthony forgot the moonlight over the +outside terraces to watch the gradual sway of the pendulum. A minute, +spent in this manner, was equal to an hour of ordinary time. Fascinated +by the sway of the pendulum he became conscious of the passage of +existence like a river broad and wide and shining which flowed on into +an eternity of chance and left him stationary on the banks. + +The voice which sounded at length was as dim and visionary as a part of +his waking dream. It was like one of those imagined calls from the +world of action to him who stood there, watching reality run past and +never stirring himself to take advantage of the thousand opportunities +for action. He would have discarded it for a part of his dream, had not +he seen John Woodbury raise his head sharply, heard the paper fall with +a dry crackling to the floor, and watched the square jaw of his father +jut out in that familiar way which meant danger. + +Once more, and this time it was unmistakably clear: "John Bard,--John +Bard, come out to me!" + +The big, grey man rose with widely staring eyes as if the name belonged +to him, and strode with a thumping step into the secret room. Hardly had +the clang of the closing door died out when he reappeared, fumbling at +his throat. Straight to Anthony he came and extended a key from which +dangled a piece of thin silver chain. It was the key to the secret room. + +He took it in both hands, like a young knight receiving the pommel of +his sword from him who has just given the accolade, and stared down at +it until the creaking of the opened French windows startled him to his +feet. + +"Wait!" he called, "I will go also!" + +The big man at the open window turned. + +"You will sit where you are now," said his harsh voice, "but if I don't +return you have the key to the room." + +His burly shoulders disappeared down the steps toward the garden, and +Anthony slipped back into his chair; yet for the first time in his life +he was dreaming of disobeying the command of John Woodbury. +Woodbury--yet the big man had risen automatically in answer to the name +of Bard. John Bard! It struck on his consciousness like two hammer blows +wrecking some fragile fabric; it jarred home like the timed blow of a +pugilist. Woodbury? There might be a thousand men capable of that name, +but there could only be one John Bard, and that was he who had +disappeared down the steps leading to the garden. Anthony swerved in his +chair and fastened his eyes on the Dutch clock. He gave himself five +minutes before he should move. + +The watched pot will never boil, and the minute hand of the big clock +dragged forward with deadly pauses from one black mark to the next. +Whispers rose in the room. Something fluttered the fallen newspaper as +if a ghost-hand grasped it but had not the strength to raise; and the +window rattled, with a sharp gust of wind. The last minute Anthony spent +at the open French window with a backward eye on the clock; then he +raced down the steps as though in his turn he answered a call out of the +night. + +The placid coolness of the open and the touch of moist, fresh air +against his forehead mocked him as he reached the garden, and there were +reassuring whispers from the trees he passed; yet he went on with a +long, easy stride like a runner starting a distance race. First he +skirted the row of poplars on the drive; then doubled back across the +meadow to his right and ran in a sharp-angling course across an orchard +of apple trees. Diverging from this direction, he circled at a quicker +pace toward the rear of the grounds and coursed like a wild deer over a +stretch of terraced lawns. On one of these low crests he stopped short +under the black shadow of an elm. + +In the smooth-shaven centre of the hollow before him, the same ground +over which he had run and played a thousand times in his childhood, he +saw two tall men standing back to back, like fighters come to a last +stand and facing a crowd of foes. They separated at once, striding out +with a measured step, and it was not until they moved that he caught the +glint of metal at the side of one of them and knew that one was the man +who had answered to the name of John Bard and the other was the grey +man who had spoken to him at the Garden the night before. He knew it not +so much by the testimony of his eyes at that dim distance as by a queer, +inner feeling that this must be so. There was also a sense of +familiarity about the whole thing, as if he were looking on something +which he had seen rehearsed a thousand times. + +As if they reached the end of an agreed course, the two whirled at the +same instant, the metal in their hands glinted in an upward semicircle, +and two guns barked hoarsely across the lawns. + +One of them stood with his gun still poised; the other leaned gradually +forward and toppled at full length on the grass. The victor strode out +toward the fallen, but hearing the wild yell of Anthony he stopped, +turned his head, and then fled into the grove of trees which topped the +next rise of ground. After him, running as he had never before raced, +went Anthony; his hand, as he sprinted, already tensed for the coming +battle; two hundred yards at the most and he would reach the lumbering +figure which had plunged into the night of the trees; but a call reached +him as sharp as the crack of the guns a moment before: "Anthony!" + +His head twitched to one side and he saw John Bard rising to his elbow. +His racing stride shortened choppily. + +"Anthony!" + +He could not choose but halt, groaning to give up the chase, and then +sped back to the fallen man. At his coming John Bard collapsed on the +grass, and when Anthony knelt beside him a voice in rough dialect began, +as if an enforced culture were brushed away and forgotten in the crisis: +"Anthony, there ain't no use in followin' him!" + +"Where did the bullet strike you? Quick!" + +"A place where it ain't no use to look. I know!" + +"Let me follow him; it's not too late--" + +The dying man struggled to one elbow. + +"Don't follow, lad, if you love me." + +"Who is he? Give me his name and--" + +"He's acted in the name of God. You have no right to hunt him down." + +"Then the law will do that." + +"Not the law. For God's sake swear--" + +"I'll swear anything. But now lie quiet; let me--" + +"Don't try. This couldn't end no other way for John Bard." + +"Is that your real name?" + +"Yes. Now listen, Anthony, for my time's short." + +He closed his eyes as if fighting silently for strength. + +Then: "When I was a lad like you, Anthony--" That was all. The massive +body relaxed; the head fell back into the dewy grass. Anthony pressed +his head against the breast of John Bard and it seemed to him that there +was still a faint pulse. With his pocket knife he ripped away the coat +from the great chest and then tore open the shirt. On the expanse of the +hairy chest there was one spot from which the purple blood welled; a +deadly place for a wound, and yet the bleeding showed that there must +still be life. + +He had no chance to bind the wound, for John Bard opened his eyes again +and said, as if in his dream he had still continued his tale to Anthony. + +"So that's all the story, lad. Do you forgive me?" + +"For what, sir? In God's name, for what?" + +"Damnation! Tell me; do you forgive John Bard?" + +He did not hear the answer, for he murmured: "Even Joan would forgive," +and died. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +BLUEBEARD'S ROOM + +As Anthony Woodbury, he knelt beside the dying. As Anthony Bard he rose +with the dead man in his arms a mighty burden even for his supple +strength; yet he went staggering up the slope, across a level terrace, +and back to the house. There it was Peters who answered his call, Peters +with a flabby face grown grey, but still the perfect servant who asked +no questions; together they bore the weight up the stairs and placed it +on John Bard's bed. While Anthony kept his steady vigil by the dead man, +it was Peters again who summoned the police and the useless doctor. + +To the old, uniformed sergeant, Anthony told a simple lie. His father +had gone for a walk through the grounds because the night was fine, and +Anthony was to join him there later, but when he arrived he found a +dying man who could not even explain the manner of his death. + +"Nothin' surprises me about a rich man's death," said the sergeant, +"not in these here days of anarchy. Got a place to write? I want to make +out my report." + +So Anthony led the grizzled fellow to the library and supplied him with +what he wished. The sergeant, saying good-bye, shook hands with a +lingering grip. + +"I knew John Woodbury," he said, "just by sight, but I'm here to tell +the world that you've lost a father who was just about all man. So long; +I'll be seein' you again." + +Left alone, Anthony Bard went to the secret room. The key fitted +smoothly into the lock. What the door opened upon was a little grey +apartment with an arched ceiling, a place devoid of a single article of +furniture save a straight-backed chair in the centre. Otherwise Anthony +saw three things-two pictures on the wall and a little box in the +corner. He went about his work very calmly, for here, he knew, was the +only light upon the past of John Bard, that past which had lain passive +so long and overwhelmed him on this night. + +First he took up the box, as being by far the most promising of the +three to give him what he wished to know; the name of the slayer, the +place where he could be found, and the cause of the slaying. It held +only two things; a piece of dirty silk and a small oil can; but the oil +can and the black smears on the silk made him look closer, closer until +the meaning struck him in a flare, as the glow of a lighted match +suddenly illumines, even if faintly, an entire room. + +In that box the revolver had lain, and here every day through all the +year, John Bard retired to clean and oil his gun, oil and reclean it, +keeping it ready for the crisis. That was why he went to the secret room +as soon as he heard the call from the garden, and carrying that gun with +him he had walked out, prepared. The time had come for which he had +waited a quarter of a century, knowing all that time that the day must +arrive. It was easy to understand now many an act of the big grim man; +but still there was no light upon the slayer. + +As he sat pondering he began to feel as if eyes were fastened upon him, +watching, waiting, mocking him, eyes from behind which stared until a +chill ran up his back. He jerked his head up, at last, and flashed a +glance over his shoulder. + +Indeed there was mockery in the smile with which she stared down to him +from her frame, down to him and past him as if she scorned in him all +men forever. It was not that which made Anthony close his eyes. He was +trying with all his might to conjure up his own image vividly. He +looked again, comparing his picture with this portrait on the wall, and +then he knew why the grey man at the Garden had said: "Son, who's your +mother?" For this was she into whose eyes he now stared. + +She had the same deep, dark eyes, the same black hair, the same rather +aquiline, thin face which her woman's eyes and lovely mouth made +beautiful, but otherwise the same. He was simply a copy of that head +hewn with a rough chisel--a sculptor's clay model rather than a smoothly +finished re-production. + +Ah, and the fine spirit of her, the buoyant, proud, scornful spirit! He +stretched out his arms to her, drew closer, smiling as if she could meet +and welcome his caress, and then remembered that this was a thing of +canvas and paint--a bright shadow; no more. + +To the second picture he turned with a deeper hope, but his heart fell +at once, for all he saw was an enlarged photograph, two mountains, +snow-topped in the distance, and in the foreground, first a mighty pine +with the branches lopped smoothly from the side as though some +tremendous ax had trimmed it, behind this a ranch-house, and farther +back the smooth waters of a lake. + +He turned away sadly and had reached the door when something made him +turn back and stand once more before the photograph. It was quite the +same, but it took on a different significance as he linked it with the +two other objects in the room, the picture of his mother and the +revolver box. He found himself searching among the forest for the +figures of two great grey men, equal in bulk, such Titans as that wild +country needed. + +West it must be, but where? North or South? West, and from the West +surely that grey man at the Garden had come, and from the West John Bard +himself. Those two mountains, spearing the sky with their sharp +horns--they would be the pole by which he steered his course. + +A strong purpose is to a man what an engine is to a ship. Suppose a hull +lies in the water, stanchly built, graceful in lines of strength and +speed, nosing at the wharf or tugging back on the mooring line, it may +be a fine piece of building but it cannot be much admired. But place an +engine in the hull and add to those fine lines the purr of a +motor--there is a sight which brings a smile to the lips and a light in +the eyes. Anthony had been like the unengined hulk, moored in gentle +waters with never the hope of a voyage to rough seas. Now that his +purpose came to him he was calmly eager, almost gay in the prospect of +the battle. + +On the highest hill of Anson Place in a tomb overlooking the waters of +the sound, they lowered the body of John Bard. + +Afterward Anthony Bard went back to the secret room of his father. The +old name of Anthony Woodbury he had abandoned; in fact, he felt almost +like dating a new existence from the moment when he heard the voice +calling out of the garden: "John Bard, come out to me!" If life was a +thread, that voice was the shears which snapped the trend of his life +and gave him a new beginning. As Anthony Bard he opened once more the +door of the chamber. + +He had replaced the revolver of John Bard in the box with the oiled +silk. Now he took it out again and shoved it into his back trouser +pocket, and then stood a long moment under the picture of the woman he +knew was his mother. As he stared he felt himself receding to youth, to +boyhood, to child days, finally to a helpless infant which that woman, +perhaps, had held and loved. In those dark, brooding eyes he strove to +read the mystery of his existence, but they remained as unriddled as the +free stars of heaven. + +He repeated to himself his new name, his real name: "Anthony Bard." It +seemed to make him a stranger in his own eyes. "Woodbury" had been a +name of culture; it suggested the air of a long descent. "Bard" was +terse, short, brutally abrupt, alive with possibilities of action. Those +possibilities he would never learn from the dead lips of his father. He +sought them from his mother, but only the painted mouth and the painted +smile answered him. + +He turned again to the picture of the house with the snow-topped +mountains in the distance. There surely, was the solution; somewhere in +the infinite reaches of the West. + +Finally he cut the picture from its frame and rolled it up. He felt that +in so doing he would carry with him an identification tag--a clue to +himself. With that clue in his travelling bag, he started for the city, +bought his ticket, and boarded a train for the West. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +MARTY WILKES + +The motion of the train, during those first two days gave Anthony Bard a +strange feeling that he was travelling from the present into the past. +He felt as if it was not miles that he placed behind him, but days, +weeks, months, years, that unrolled and carried him nearer and nearer to +the beginning of himself. He heard nothing about him; he saw nothing of +the territory which whirled past the window. They were already far West +before a man boarded the train and carried to Bard the whole atmosphere +of the mountain desert. + +He got on the train at a Nebraska station and Anthony sat up to watch, +for a man of importance does not need size in order to have a mien. +Napoleon struck awe through the most gallant of his hero marshals, and +even the porter treated this little brown man with a respect that was +ludicrous at first glimpse. + +He was so ugly that one smiled on glancing at him. His face, built on +the plan of a wedge, was extremely narrow in front, with a long, +high-bridged nose, slanting forehead, thin-lipped mouth, and a chin that +jutted out to a point, but going back all the lines flared out like a +reversed vista. A ridge of muscle crested each side of the broad jaws +and the ears flaunted out behind so that he seemed to have been built +for travelling through the wind. + +The same wind, perhaps, had blown the hair away from the upper part of +his forehead, leaving him quite bald half way back on his head, where a +veritable forest of hair began, and continued, growing thicker and +longer, until it brushed the collar of his coat behind. + +When he entered the car he stood eying his seat for a long moment like a +dog choosing the softest place on the floor before it lies down. Then he +took his place and sat with his hands folded in his lap, moveless, +speechless, with the little keen eyes straight before him--three hours +that state continued. Then he got up and Anthony followed him to the +diner. They sat at the same table. + +"The journey," said Anthony, "is pretty tiresome through monotonous +scenery like this." + +The little keen eyes surveyed him a moment before the man spoke. + +"There was buffalo on them plains once." + +If someone had said to an ignorant questioner, "This little knoll is +called Bunker Hill," he could not have been more abashed than was +Anthony, who glanced through the window at the dreary prospect, looked +back again, and found that the sharp eyes once more looked straight +ahead without the slightest light of triumph in his coup. Silence, +apparently, did not in the least abash this man. + +"Know a good deal about buffaloes?" + +"Yes." + +It was not the insulting curtness of one who wishes to be left in peace, +but simply a statement of bald fact. + +"Really?" queried Anthony. "I didn't think you were as old as that!" + +It appeared that this remark was worthy of no answer whatever. The +little man turned his attention to his order of ham and eggs, cut off +the first egg, manoeuvred it carefully into position on his knife, and +raised it toward a mouth that stretched to astonishing proportions; but +at the critical moment the egg slipped and flopped back on the plate. + +"Missed!" said Anthony. + +He couldn't help it; the ejaculation popped out of its own accord. The +other regarded him with grave displeasure. + +"If you had your bead drawed an' somebody jogged your arm jest as you +pulled the trigger, would you call it a miss?" + +"Excuse me. I've no doubt you're extremely accurate." + +"I ne'er miss," said the other, and proved it by disposing of the egg at +the next imposing mouthful. + +"I should like to know you. My name is Anthony Bard." + +"I'm Marty Wilkes. H'ware ye?" + +They shook hands. + +"Westerner, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"This is my furthest East." + +"Have a pleasant time?" + +A gesture indicated the barren, brown waste of prairie. + +"Too much civilization." + +"Really?" + +"Even the cattle got no fight in 'em." He added, "That sounds like I'm a +fighter. I ain't." + +"Till you're stirred up, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"Heat me up an' I'll burn. Soil wood." + +"You're pretty familiar with the Western country?" + +"I get around." + +"Perhaps you'd recognize this." + +He took a scroll from his breast pocket and unrolled the photograph of +the forest and the ranchhouse with the two mountains in the distance. +Wilkes considered it unperturbed. + +"Them are the Little Brothers." + +"Ah! Then all I have to do is to travel to the foot of the Little +Brothers?" + +"No, about sixty miles from 'em." "Impossible! Why, the mountains almost +overhang that house." + +Wilkes handed back the picture and resumed his eating without reply. It +was not a sullen resentment; it was hunger and a lack of curiosity. He +was not "heated up." + +"Any one," said Anthony, to lure the other on, "could see that." + +"Sure; any one with bad eyes." + +"But how can you tell it's sixty miles?" + +"I've been there." + +"Well, at least the big tree there and the ranchhouse will not be very +hard to find. But I suppose I'll have to travel in a circle around the +Little Brothers, keeping a sixty-mile radius?" + +"If you want to waste a pile of time. Yes." + +"I suppose you could lead me right to the spot?" + +"I could." + +"How?" + +"That's about fifty-five miles straight north-east of the Little +Brothers." + +"How the devil can you tell that, man?" + +"That ain't hard. They's a pretty steady north wind that blows in them +parts. It's cold and it's strong. Now when you been out there long +enough and get the idea that the only things that live is because God +loves 'em. Mostly it's jest plain sand and rock. The trees live because +they got protection from that north wind. Nature puts moss on 'em on the +north side to shelter 'em from that same wind. Look at that picture +close. You see that rough place on the side of that tree--jest a shadow +like the whiskers of a man that ain't shaved for a week? That's the +moss. Now if that's north, the rest is easy. That place is north-east of +the Little Brothers." + +"By Jove! how did you get such eyes?" + +"Used 'em." + +"The reason I'd like to find the house is because--" + +"Reasons ain't none too popular with me." + +"Well, you're pretty sure that your suggestion will take me to the +spot?" + +"I'm sure of nothing except my gun when the weather's hot." + +"Reasonably sure, however? The pine trees and the house--if I don't find +one I'll find the other." + +"The house'll be in ruins, probably." + +"Why?" + +"That picture was taken a long time ago." + +"Do you read the mind of a picture, Mr. Wilkes?" + +"No." + +"The tree, however, will be there." + +"No, that's chopped down." + +"That's going a bit too far. Do you mean to say you know that this +particular tree is down?" + +"That's first growth. All that country's been cut over. D'you think +they'd pass up a tree the size of that?" + +"It's going to be hard," said Anthony with a frown, "for me to get used +to the West." + +"Maybe not." + +"I can ride and shoot pretty well, but I don't know the people, I +haven't worn their clothes, and I can't talk their lingo." + +"The country's mostly rocks when it ain't ground; the people is pretty +generally men and women; the clothes they wear is cotton and wool, the +lingo they talk is English." + +It was like a paragraph out of some book of ultimate knowledge. He was +not entirely contented with his statement, however, for now he qualified +it as follows: "Maybe some of 'em don't talk good book English. Quite a +pile ain't had much eddication; in fact there ain't awful many like me. +But they can tell you how much you owe 'em an' they'll understand you +when you say you're hungry. What's your business? Excuse me; I don't +generally ask questions." + +"That's all right. You've probably caught the habit from me. I'm simply +going out to look about for excitement." + +"A feller gener'ly finds what he's lookin' for. Maybe you won't be +disappointed. I've knowed places on the range where excitement growed +like fruit on a tree. It was like that there manna in the Bible. You +didn't have to work none for it. You jest laid still an' it sort of +dropped in your mouth." + +He added with a sigh: "But them times ain't no more." + +"That's hard on me, eh?" + +"Don't start complainin' till you miss your feed. Things are gettin' +pretty crowded, but there's ways of gettin' elbow room--even at a bar." + +"And you really think there's nothing which distinguishes the Westerner +from the Easterner?" + +"Just the Western feeling, partner. Get that an' you'll be at home." + +"If you were a little further East and said that, people might be +inclined to smile a bit." + +"Partner, if they did, they wouldn't finish their smile. But I heard a +feller say once that the funny thing about men east and west of the +Rockies was that they was all--" + +He paused as if trying to remember. + +"Well?" + +"Americans, Mr. Bard." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"THIS PLACE FOR REST" + +As the white heat of midday passed and the shadows lengthened more and +more rapidly to the east, the sheep moved out from the shade and from +the tangle of the brush to feed in the open, and the dogs, which had +laid one on either side of the man, rose and trotted out to recommence +their vigil; but the shepherd did not change his position where he sat +cross-legged under the tree. + +Alternately he stroked the drooping moustache to the right and then to +the left, with a little twist each time, which turned the hair to a +sharp point in its furthest downward reach near his chin. To the right, +to the left, to the right, to the left, while his eyes, sad with a +perpetual mist, looked over the lake and far away to the white tops of +the Little Brothers, now growing blue with shadow. + +Finally with a brown forefinger he lifted the brush of moustache on his +upper lip, leaned a little, and spat. After that he leaned back with a +sigh of content; the brown juice had struck fairly and squarely on the +centre of the little stone which for the past two hours he had been +endeavouring vainly to hit. The wind had been against him. + +All was well. The spindling tops of the second-growth forest pointed +against the pale blue of a stainless sky, and through that clear air the +blatting of the most distant sheep sounded close, mingled with the light +clangour of the bells. But the perfect peace was broken rudely now by +the form of a horseman looming black and large against the eastern sky. +He trotted his horse down the slope, scattered a group of noisy sheep +from side to side before him, and drew rein before the shepherd. + +"Evening." + +"Evening, stranger." + +"Own this land?" + +"No; rent it." + +"Could I camp here?" + +The shepherd lifted his moustache again and spat; when he spoke his eyes +held steadily and sadly on the little stone, which he had missed again. + +"Can't think of nobody who'd stop you." + +"That your house over there? You rent that?" + +He pointed to a broken-backed ruin which stood on the point of land that +jutted out onto the waters of the lake, a crumbling structure slowly +blackening with time. + +"Nope." + +A shadow of a frown crossed the face of the stranger and was gone again +more quickly than a cloud shadow brushed over the window on a windy city +in March. + +"Well," he said, "this place looks pretty good to me. Ever fish those +streams?" + +"Don't eat fish." + +"I'll wager you're missing some first-class trout, though. By Jove, I'd +like to cast a couple of times over some of the pools I've passed in the +last hour! By the way, who owns that house over there?" + +"Same feller that owns this land." + +"That so? What's his name?" + +The other lifted his shaggy eyebrows and stared at the stranger. + +"Ain't been long around here, eh?" + +"No." + +"William Drew, he owns that house." + +"William Drew?" repeated the rider, as though imprinting the word on his +memory. "Is he home?" + +"Maybe." + +"I'll ride over and ask him if he can put me up." + +"Wait a minute. He may be home, but he lives on the other side of the +range." + +"Very far from here?" + +"Apiece." + +"How'll I know him when I see him?" + +"Big feller--grey--broad shoulders." + +"Ah!" murmured the other, and smiled as though the picture pleased him. +"I'll hunt him up and ask him if I can camp out in this house of his for +a while." + +"Well, that's your party." + +"Don't you think he'd let me?" + +"Maybe; but the house ain't lucky." + +"That so?" + +"Sure. There's a grave in front of it." + +"A grave? Whose?" + +"Dunno." + +"Well, it doesn't worry me. I'll drop over the hill and see Drew." + +"Maybe you'd better wait. You'll be passin' him on the road, like as +not." + +"How's that?" + +"He comes over here on Tuesdays once a month; to-morrow he's about due." + +"Good. In the meantime I can camp over there by that stream, eh?" + +"Don't know of nobody who'd stop you." + +"By the way, what brings Drew over here every month?" + +"Never asked him. I was brung up not to ask questions." + +The stranger accepted this subtle rebuke with such an open, infectious +laugh that the shepherd smiled in the very act of spitting at the stone, +with the result that he missed it by whole inches. + +"I'll answer some of the questions you haven't asked, then. My name is +Anthony Bard and I'm out here seeing the mountains and having a bully +time in general with my rod and gun." + +The sad eyes regarded him without interest, but Bard swung from his +horse and advanced with outstretched hand. + +"I may be about here for a few days and we might as well get acquainted, +eh? I'll promise to lay off the questions." + +"I'm Logan." + +"Glad to know you, Mr. Logan." + +"Same t'you. Don't happen to have no fine-cut about you?" + +"No. Sorry." + +"So'm I. Ran out an' now all I've got is plug. Kind of hard on the teeth +an' full of molasses." + +"I've some pipe tobacco, though, which might do." + +He produced a pouch which Logan opened, taking from it a generous pinch. + +"Looks kind of like fine-cut--smells kind of like the real thing"--here +he removed the quid from his mouth and introduced the great pinch of +tobacco--"an' I'll be damned if it don't taste a pile the same!" + +The misty eyes centred upon Bard and a light grew up in them. + +"Maybe you'd put a price on this tobacco, stranger?" + +"It's yours," said Bard, "to help you forget all the questions I've +asked." + +The shepherd acted at once lest the other might change his mind, dumping +the contents of the pouch into the breast pocket of his shirt. Afterward +his gaze sought the dim summits of the Little Brothers, and a sad, great +resolution grew up and hardened the lines of his sallow face. + +"You can camp with me if you want--partner." + +A cough, hastily summoned, covered Bard's smile. + +"Thanks awfully, but I'm used to camping alone--and rather like it that +way." + +"Which I'd say, the same goes here," responded the shepherd with +infinite relief, "I ain't got much use for company--away from a bar. But +I could show you a pretty neat spot for a camp, over there by the +river." + +"Thanks, but I'll explore for myself." + +He swung again into the saddle and trotted whistling down the slope +toward the creek which Logan had pointed out. But once fairly out of +sight in the second-growth forest, he veered sharply to the right, +touched his tough cattle-pony with the spurs, and headed at a racing +pace straight for the old ruined house. + +Even from a distance the house appeared unmistakably done for, but not +until he came close at hand could Bard appreciate the full extent of the +ruin. Every individual board appeared to be rotting and crumbling toward +the ground, awaiting the shake of one fierce gust of wind to disappear +in a cloud of mouldy dust. He left his horse with the reins hanging over +its head behind the house and entered by the back door. One step past +the threshold brought him misadventure, for his foot drove straight +through the rotten flooring and his leg disappeared up to the knee. + +After that he proceeded more cautiously, following the lines of the +beams on which the boards were nailed, but even these shook and groaned +under his weight. A whimsical fancy made him think of the fabled boat of +Charon which will float a thousand bodiless spirits over the Styx but +which sinks to the water-line with the weight of a single human being. + +So he passed forward like one in a fabric of spider-webs almost fearing +to breathe lest the whole house should puff away to shreds before him. +Half the boards, fallen from the ceiling, revealed the bare rafters +above; below there were ragged holes in the flooring. In one place a +limb, torn by lightning or wind from its overhanging tree, had crashed +through the corner of the roof and dropped straight through to the +ground. + +At last he reached a habitable room in the front of the house. It was a +new shell built inside the old wreck, with four stout corner-posts +supporting cross-beams, which in turn held up the mouldering roof. In +the centre was a rude table and on either side a bunk built against the +wall. Perhaps this was where Drew lived on the occasions of his visits +to the old ranchhouse. + +Out of the gloom of the place, Bard stepped with a shrug of the +shoulders, like one who shakes off the spell of a nightmare. He strode +through the doorway and took the slant, warm sun of the afternoon full +in his face. + +He found himself in front of the only spot on the entire premises which +showed the slightest care, the mound of a grave under the shelter of two +trees whose branches were interwoven overhead in a sort of impromptu +roof. From the surface of the mound all the weeds and grasses had been +carefully cleared away, and around its edge ran a path covered with +gravel and sand. It was a wellbeaten path with the mark of heels still +comparatively fresh upon it. + +The headstone itself bore not a vestige of moss, but time had cracked it +diagonally and the chiselled letters were weathered away. He studied it +with painful care, poring intently over each faint impression. He who +cared for the grave had apparently been troubled only to keep the stone +free from dirt--the lettering he must have known by heart. At length +Bard made out this inscription: + + + HERE SLEEPS + + JOAN + + WIFE OF WILLIAM DREW + + SHE CHOSE THIS PLACE FOR REST + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A BIT OF STALKING + +It seemed as if the peaceful afternoons of Logan were ended forever, for +the next day the scene of interruption was repeated under almost +identical circumstances, save that the tree under which the shepherd sat +was a little larger. Larger also was the man who rode over the brow of +the hill to the east. The most durable cattle-pony would have staggered +under the bulk of that rider, and therefore he rode a great, +patient-eyed bay, with shoulders worthy of shoving against a +work-collar; but the neck tapered down small behind a short head, and +the legs, for all their breadth at shoulder and hip, slipped away to +small hoofs, and ankles which sloped sharply to the rear, the sure sign +of the fine saddle-horse. + +Yet the strong horse was winded by the burden he bore, a mighty figure, +deep-chested, amply shouldered, an ideal cavalier for the days when +youths rode out in armour-plate to seek adventures and when men of +fifty still lifted the lance to run a "friendly" course or two in the +lists. + +At sight of him Logan so far bestirred himself as to uncoil his long +legs, rise, and stand with one shoulder propped against the tree. + +"Evening, Mr. Drew," he called. + +"Hello, Logan. How's everything with you?" + +He would have ridden on, but at Logan's reply he checked his horse to a +slow walk. + +"Busy. Lots of company lately, Mr. Drew." + +"Company?" + +"Yes, there's a young feller come along who says he wants to see you. +He's over there by the creek now, fishin' I think. I told him I'd holler +if I seen you, but I guess you wouldn't mind ridin' over that way +yourself." + +Drew brought his horse to a halt. + +"What does he want of me?" + +"Dunno. Something about wanting to hunt and fish on your streams here." + +"Why didn't you tell him he was welcome to do what he liked? Must be an +Easterner, Logan." + +"Wants to bunk in the old house, too. Seems sort of interested in it." + +"That so? What sort of a fellow is he?" + +"All right. A bit talky. Green; but he rides damn well, an' he smokes +good tobacco." + +His hand automatically rose and touched his breast pocket. + +"I'll go over to him," said Drew, and swung his horse to the left, but +only to come again to a halt. + +He called over his shoulder: "What sort of a looking fellow?" + +"Pretty keen--dark," answered Logan, slipping down into his original +position. "Thin face; black eyes." + +"Ah, yes," murmured Drew, and started at a trot for the creek. + +Once more he imitated the actions of Bard the day before, however, for +no sooner had the trees screened him thoroughly from the eyes of Logan +than he abandoned his direct course for the creek. He swung from the +saddle with an ease surprising in a man of such age and bulk and tossed +the reins over the head of the horse. + +Then he commenced a cautious stalking through the woods, silent as an +Indian, stealthy of foot, with eyes that glanced sharply in all +directions. Once a twig snapped under foot, and after that he remained +motionless through a long moment, shrinking against the trunk of a tree +and scanning the forest anxiously in all directions. At length he +ventured out again, grown doubly cautious. In this manner he worked his +way up the course of the stream, always keeping the waters just within +sight but never passing out on the banks, where the walking would have +been tenfold easier. So he came in sight of a figure far off through the +trees. + +If he had been cautious before, he became now as still as night. +Dropping to hands and knees, or crouching almost as prone, he moved from +the shadow of one tree to the next, now and then venturing a glance to +make sure that he was pursuing the right course, until he manoeuvred to +a point of vantage which commanded a clear view of Bard. + +The latter was fishing, with his back to Drew. Again and again he cast +his fly out under an overhanging limb which shadowed a deep pool. The +big grey man set his teeth and waited with the patience of a stalking +beast of prey, or a cat which will sit half the day waiting for the +mouse to show above the opening of its hole. + +Apparently there was a bite at length. The pole bent almost double and +the reel played back and forth rapidly as the fisher wore down his +victim. Finally he came close to the edge of the stream, dipped his net +into the water, and jerked it up at once bearing a twisting, shining +trout enwrapped in the meshes. Swinging about as he did so, Drew caught +his first full glimpse of Anthony's face, and knew him for the man who +had ridden the wild horse at Madison Square Garden those weeks before. + +Perhaps it was astonishment that moved the big man--surely it could not +have been fear--yet he knelt there behind the sheltering tree +grey-faced, wide, and blank of eye, as a man might look who dreamed and +awoke to see his vision standing before him in full sunlit life. What +his expression became then could not be said, for he buried his face in +his hands and his great body shook with a tremor. If this was not fear +it was something very like. + +And very like a man in fear he stole back among the trees as cautiously +as he had made his approach. Resuming his horse he rode straight for +Logan. + +"Couldn't find your young friend," he said, "along the creek." + +"Why," said Logan, "I can reach him with a holler from here, I think." + +"Never mind; just tell him that he's welcome to do what he pleases on +the place; and he can bunk down at the house if he wants to. I'd like to +know his name, though." + +"That's easy. Anthony Bard." + +"Ah," said Drew slowly, "Anthony Bard!" + +"That's it," nodded Logan, and fixed a curious eye upon the big grey +rider. + +As if to escape from that inquiring scrutiny, Drew wheeled his horse and +spurred at a sharp gallop up the hill, leaving Logan frowning behind. + +"No stay over night," muttered the shepherd. "No fooling about that +damned old shack of a house; what's wrong with Drew?" + +He answered himself, for all shepherds are forced by the bitter +loneliness of their work to talk with themselves. "The old boy's +worried. Damned if he isn't! I'll keep an eye on this Bard feller." + +And he loosened the revolver in its holster. + +He might have been even more concerned had he seen the redoubled speed +with which Drew galloped as soon as the hilltop was between him and +Logan. Straight on he pushed his horse, not exactly like one who fled +but rather more like one too busy with consuming thoughts to pay the +slightest heed to the welfare of his mount. It was a spent horse on +which he trotted late that night up to the big, yawning door of his +barn. + +"Where's Nash?" he asked of the man who took his horse. + +"Playing a game with the boys in the bunk-house, sir." + +So past the bunk-house Drew went on his way to his dwelling, knocked, +and threw open the door. Inside, a dozen men, seated at or standing +around a table, looked up. + +"Nash!" + +"Here." + +"On the jump, Nash. I'm in a hurry." + +There rose a man of a build much prized in pugilistic circles. In those +same circles he would have been described as a fellow with a fighting +face and a heavy-weight above the hips and a light-weight below--a +handsome fellow, except that his eyes were a little too small and his +lips a trifle too thin. He rose now in the midst of a general groan of +dismay, and scooped in a considerable stack of gold as well as several +bright piles of silver; he was undoubtedly taking the glory of the game +with him. + +"Is this square?" growled one of the men clenching his fist on the edge +of the table. + +The sardonic smile hardened on the lips of Nash as he answered: "Before +you've been here much longer, Pete, you'll find out that about +everything I do is square. Sorry to leave you, boys, before you're +broke, but orders is orders." + +"But one more hand first," pleaded Pete. + +"You poor fool," snarled Nash, "d'you think I'll take a chance on +keepin' _him_ waiting?" + +The last of his winnings passed with a melodious jingling into his +pockets and he went hurriedly out of the bunk-house and up to the main +building. There he found Drew in the room which the rancher used as an +office, and stood at the door hat in hand. + +"Come in; sit down," said "_him_." "Been taking the money from the boys +again, Steve? I thought I talked with you about that a month ago?" + +"It's this way, Mr. Drew," explained Nash, "with me stayin' away from +the cards is like a horse stayin' off its feed. Besides, I done the +square thing by the lot of those short-horns." + +"How's that?" + +"I showed 'em my hand." + +"Told them you were a professional gambler?" + +"Sure. I explained they didn't have no chance against me." + +"And of course that made them throw every cent they had against you?" + +"Maybe." + +"It can't go on, Nash." + +"Look here, Mr. Drew. I told 'em that I wasn't a gambler but just a +gold-digger." + +The big man could not restrain his smile, though it came like a shadow +of mirth rather than the sunlight. + +"After all, they might as well lose it to you as to someone else." + +"Sure," grinned Nash, "it keeps it in the family, eh?" + +"But one of these days, Steve, crooked cards will be the end of you." + +"I'm still pretty fast on the draw," said Steve sullenly. + +"All right. That's your business. Now I want you to listen to some of +mine." + +"Real work?" + +"Your own line." + +"That," said Nash, with a smile of infinite meaning, "sounds like the +dinner bell to me. Let her go, sir!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +THE QUEST BEGINS + +"You know the old place on the other side of the range?" + +"Like a book. I got pet names for all the trees." + +"There's a man there I want." + +"Logan?" + +"No. His name is Bard." + +"H-m! Any relation of the old bird that was partners with you back about +the year one?" + +"I want Anthony Bard brought here," said. Drew, entirely overlooking the +question. + +"Easy. I can make the trip in a buckboard and I'll dump him in the back +of it." + +"No. He's got to _ride_ here, understand?" + +"A dead man," said Nash calmly, "ain't much good on a hoss." + +"Listen to me," said Drew, his voice lowering to a sort of musical +thunder, "if you harm a hair of this lad's head I'll-I'll break you in +two with my own hands." + +And he made a significant gesture as if he were snapping a twig between +his fingers. Nash moistened his lips, then his square, powerful jaw +jutted out. + +"Which the general idea is me doing baby talk and sort of hypnotizing +this Bard feller into coming along?" + +"More than that. He's got to be brought here alive, untouched, and +placed in that chair tied so that he can't move hand or foot for ten +minutes while I talk." + +"Nice, quiet day you got planned for me, Mr. Drew." + +The grey man considered thoughtfully. + +"Now and then you've told me of a girl at Eldara--I think her name is +Sally Fortune?" + +"Right. She begins where the rest of the calico leaves off." + +"H-m! that sounds familiar, somehow. Well, Steve, you've said that if +you had a good start you think the girl would marry you." + +"I think she might." + +"She pretty fond of you?" + +"She knows that if I can't have her I'm fast enough to keep everyone +else away." + +"I see. A process of elimination with you as the eliminator. Rather an +odd courtship, Steve?" + +The cowpuncher grew deadly serious. + +"You see, I love her. There ain't no way of bucking out of that. So do +nine out of ten of all the boys that've seen her. Which one will she +pick? That's the question we all keep askin', because of all the +contrary, freckle-faced devils with the heart of a man an' the smile of +a woman, Sally has 'em all beat from the drop of the barrier. One feller +has money; another has looks; another has a funny line of talk. But I've +got the fastest gun. So Sally sees she's due for a complete outfit of +black mournin' if she marries another man while I'm alive; an' that +keeps her thinkin'. But if I had the price of a start in the world--why, +maybe she'd take a long look at me." + +"Would she call one thousand dollars in cash a start in the world--and +your job as foreman of my place, with twice the salary you have now?" + +Steve Nash wiped his forehead. + +He said huskily: "A joke along this line don't bring no laugh from me, +governor." + +"I mean it, Steve. Get Anthony Bard tied hand and foot into this house +so that I can talk to him safely for ten minutes, and you'll have +everything I promise. Perhaps more. But that depends." + +The blunt-fingered hand of Nash stole across the table. + +"If it's a go, shake, Mr. Drew." + +A mighty hand fell in his, and under the pressure he set his teeth. +Afterward he covertly moved his fingers and sighed with relief to see +that no permanent harm had been done. + +"Me speakin' personal, Mr. Drew, I'd of give a lot to seen you when you +was ridin' the range. This Bard--he'll be here before sunset to-morrow." + +"Don't jump to conclusions, Steve. I've an idea that before you count +your thousand you'll think that you've been underpaid. That's straight." + +"This Bard is something of a man?" + +"I can say that without stopping to think." + +"Texas?" + +"No. He's a tenderfoot, but he can ride a horse as if he was sewed to +the skin, and I've an idea that he can do other things up to the same +standard. If you can find two or three men who have silent tongues and +strong hands, you'd better take them along. I'll pay their wages, and +big ones. You can name your price." + +But Nash was frowning. + +"Now and then I talk to the cards a bit, Mr. Drew, and you'll hear +fellers say some pretty rough things about me, but I've never asked for +no odds against any man. I'm not going to start now." + +"You're a hard man, Steve, but so am I; and hard men are the kind I take +to. I know that you're the best foreman who ever rode this range and I +know that when you start things you generally finish them. All that I +ask is that you bring Bard to me in this house. The way you do it is +your own problem. Drunk or drugged, I don't care how, but get him here +unharmed. Understand?" + +"Mr. Drew, you can start figurin' what you want to say to him now. I'll +get him here--safe! And then Sally--" + +"If money will buy her you'll have me behind you when you bid." + +"When shall I start?" + +"Now." + +"So-long, then." + +He rose and passed hastily from the room, leaning forward from the hips +like a man who is making a start in a foot-race. + +Straight up the stairs he went to his room, for the foreman lived in the +big house of the rancher. There he took a quantity of equipment from a +closet and flung it on the bed. Over three selections he lingered long. + +The first was the cartridge belt, and he tried over several with +conscientious care until he found the one which received the cartridges +with the greatest ease. He could flip them out in the night, +automatically as a pianist fingers the scale in the dark. + +Next he examined lariats painfully, inch by inch, as though he were +going out to rope the stanchest steer that ever roamed the range. +Already he knew that those ropes were sound and true throughout, but he +took no chances now. One of the ropes he discarded because one or two +strands in it were, or might be, a trifle frayed. The others he took +alternately and whirled with a broad loop, standing in the centre of the +room. Of the set one was a little more supple, a little more durable, it +seemed. This he selected and coiled swiftly. + +Last of all he lingered--and longest--over his revolvers. Six in all, he +set them in a row along the bed and without delay threw out two to begin +with. Then he fingered the others, tried their weight and balance, +slipped cartridges into the cylinders and extracted them again, whirled +the cylinders, examined the minutest parts of the actions. + +They were all such guns as an expert would have turned over with shining +eyes, but finally he threw one aside into the discard; the cylinder +revolved just a little too hard. Another was abandoned after much +handling of the remaining three because to the delicate touch of Nash it +seemed that the weight of the barrel was a gram more than in the other +two; but after this selection it seemed that there was no possible +choice between the final two. + +So he stood in the centre of the room and went through a series of odd +gymnastics. Each gun in turn he placed in the holster and then jerked it +out, spinning it on the trigger guard around his second finger, while +his left hand shot diagonally across his body and "fanned" the hammer. +Still he could not make his choice, but he would not abandon the effort. +It was an old maxim with him that there is in all the world one gun +which is the best of all and with which even a novice can become a +"killer." + +He tried walking away, whirling as he made his draw, and levelling the +gun on the door-knob. Then without moving his hand, he lowered his head +and squinted down the sights. In each case the bead was drawn to a +centre shot. Last of all he weighed each gun; one seemed a trifle +lighter--the merest shade lighter than the other. This he slipped into +the holster and carried the rest of his apparatus back to the closet +from which he had taken it. + +Still the preparation had not ended. Filling his cartridge belt, every +cartridge was subject to a rigid inspection. A full half hour was wasted +in this manner. Wasted, because he rejected not one of the many he +examined. Yet he seemed happier after having made his selection, and +went down the stairs, humming softly. + +Out to the barn he went, lantern in hand. This time he made no +comparison of horses but went directly to an ugly-headed roan, long of +leg, vicious of eye, thin-shouldered, and with hips that slanted sharply +down. No one with a knowledge of fine horse-flesh could have looked on +this brute without aversion. It did not have even size in its favour. A +wild, free spirit, perhaps, might be the reason; but the animal stood +with hanging head and pendant lower lip. One eye was closed and the +other only half opened. A blind affection, then, made him go to this +horse first of all. + +No, his greeting was to jerk his knee sharply into the ribs of the roan, +which answered with a grunt and swung its head around with bared teeth, +like an angry dog. "Damn your eyes!" roared the hoarse voice of Steve +Nash, "stand still or I'll knock you for a goal!" + +The ears of the mustang flattened close to its neck and a devil of hate +came up in its eyes, but it stood quiet, while Nash went about at a +judicious distance and examined all the vital points. The hoofs were +sound, the backbone prominent, but not a high ridge from famine or much +hard riding, and the indomitable hate in the eyes of the mustang seemed +to please the cowpuncher. + +It was a struggle to bridle the beast, which was accomplished only by +grinding the points of his knuckles into a tender part of the jowl to +make the locked teeth open. + +In saddling, the knee came into play again, rapping the ribs of the +brute repeatedly before the wind, which swelled out the chest to false +proportions, was expelled in a sudden grunt, and the cinch whipped up +taut. After that Nash dodged the flying heels, chose his time, and +vaulted into the saddle. + +The mustang trotted quietly out of the barn. Perhaps he had had his fill +of bucking on that treacherous, slippery wooden floor, but once outside +he turned loose the full assortment of the cattle-pony's tricks. It was +only ten minutes, but while it lasted the cursing of Nash was loud and +steady, mixed with the crack of his murderous quirt against the roan's +flanks. The bucking ended as quickly as it had begun, and they started +at a long canter over the trail. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +THE FIRST DAY + +Mile after mile of the rough trail fell behind him, and still the pony +shambled along at a loose trot or a swinging canter; the steep upgrades +it took at a steady jog and where the slopes pitched sharply down, it +wound among the rocks with a faultless sureness of foot. + +Certainly the choice of Nash was well made. An Eastern horse of blood +over a level course could have covered the same distance in half the +time, but it would have broken down after ten miles of that hard trail. + +Dawn came while they wound over the crest of the range, and with the sun +in their faces they took the downgrade. It was well into the morning +before Nash reached Logan. He forced from his eye the contempt which all +cattlemen feel for sheepherders. + +"I s'pose you're here askin' after Bard?" began Logan without the +slightest prelude. + +"Bard? Who's he?" + +Logan considered the other with a sardonic smile. + +"Maybe you been ridin' all night jest for fun?" + +"If you start usin' your tongue on me, Logan you'll wear out the snapper +on it. I'm on my way to the A Circle Y." + +"Listen; I'm all for old man Drew. You know that. Tell me what Bard has +on him?" + +"Never heard the name before. Did he rustle a couple of your sheep?" + +Logan went on patiently: "I knew something was wrong when Drew was here +yesterday but I didn't think it was as bad as this." + +"What did Drew do yesterday?" + +"Came up as usual to potter around the old house, I guess, but when he +heard about Bard bein' here he changed his mind sudden and went home." + +"That's damn queer. What sort of a lookin' feller is this Bard?" + +"I don't suppose you know, eh?" queried Logan ironically. "I don't +suppose the old man described him before you started, maybe?" + +"Logan, you poor old hornless maverick, d'you think I'm on somebody's +trail? Don't you know I've been through with that sort of game for a +hell of a while?" + +"When rocks turn into ham and eggs I'll trust you, Steve. I'll tell you +what I done to Bard, anyway. Yesterday, after he found that Drew had +been here and gone he seemed sort of upset; tried to keep it from me, +but I'm too much used to judgin' changes of weather to be fooled by any +tenderfoot that ever used school English. Then he hinted around about +learnin' the way to Eldara, because he knows that town is pretty close +to Drew's place, I guess. I told him; sure I did. He should of gone due +west, but I sent him south. There is a south trail, only it takes about +three days to get to Eldara." + +"Maybe you think that interests me. It don't." + +Logan overlooked this rejoinder, saying: "Is it his scalp you're after?" + +"Your ideas are like nest-eggs, Logan, an' you set over 'em like a hen. +They look like eggs; they feel like eggs; but they don't never hatch. +That's the way with your ideas. They look all right; they sound all +right; but they don't mean nothin'. So-long." + +But Logan merely chuckled wisely. He had been long on the range. + +As Nash turned his pony and trotted off in the direction of the A +Circle Y ranch, the sheepherder called after him: "What you say cuts +both ways, Steve. This feller Bard looks like a tenderfoot; he sounds +like a tenderfoot; but he ain't a tenderfoot." + +Feeling that this parting shot gave him the honours of the meeting, he +turned away whistling with such spirit that one of his dogs, +overhearing, stood still and gazed at his master with his head cocked +wisely to one side. + +His eastern course Nash pursued for a mile or more, and then swung sharp +to the south. He was weary, like his horse, and he made no attempt to +start a sudden burst of speed. He let the pony go on at the same +tireless jog, clinging like a bulldog to the trail. + +About midday he sighted a small house cuddled into a hollow of the hills +and made toward it. As he dismounted, a tow-headed, spindling boy +lounged out of the doorway and stood with his hands shoved carelessly +into his little overall pockets. + +"Hello, young feller." + +"'Lo, stranger." + +"What's the chance of bunking here for three or four hours and gettin' a +good feed for the hoss?" + +"Never better. Gimme the hoss; I'll put him up in the shed. Feed him +grain?" + +"No, you won't put him up. I'll tend to that." + +"Looks like a bad 'un." + +"That's it." + +"But a sure goer, eh?" + +"Yep." + +He led the pony to the shed, unsaddled him, and gave him a small feed. +The horse first rolled on the dirt floor and then started methodically +on his fodder. Having made sure that his mount was not "off his feed," +Nash rolled a cigarette and strolled back to the house with the boy. + +"Where's the folks?" he asked. + +"Ma's sick, a little, and didn't get up to-day. Pa's down to the corral, +cussing mad. But I can cook you up some chow." + +"All right son. I got a dollar here that'll buy you a pretty good store +knife." + +The boy flushed so red that by contrast his straw coloured hair seemed +positively white. + +"Maybe you want to pay me?" he suggested fiercely. "Maybe you think +we're squatters that run a hotel?" + +Recognizing the true Western breed even in this small edition, Nash +grinned. + +"Speakin' man to man, son, I didn't think that, but I thought I'd sort +of feel my way." + +"Which I'll say you're lucky you didn't try to feel your way with pa; +not the way he's feelin' now." + +In the shack of the house he placed the best chair for Nash and set +about frying ham and making coffee. This with crackers, formed the meal. +He watched Nash eat for a moment of solemn silence and then the foreman +looked up to catch a meditative chuckle from the youngster. + +"Let me in on the joke, son." + +"Nothin'. I was just thinkin' of pa." + +"What's he sore about? Come out short at poker lately?" + +"No; he lost a hoss. Ha, ha, ha!" + +He explained: "He's lost his only standin' joke, and now the laugh's on +pa!" + +Nash sipped his coffee and waited. On the mountain desert one does not +draw out a narrator with questions. + +"There was a feller come along early this mornin' on a lame hoss," the +story began. "He was a sure enough tenderfoot--leastways he looked it +an' he talked it, but he wasn't." + +The familiarity of this description made Steve sit up a trifle +straighter. + +"Was he a ringer?" + +"Maybe. I dunno. Pa meets him at the door and asks him in. What d'you +think this feller comes back with?" + +The boy paused to remember and then with twinkling eyes he mimicked: +"'That's very good of you, sir, but I'll only stop to make a trade with +you--this horse and some cash to boot for a durable mount out of your +corral. The brute has gone lame, you see.' + +"Pa waited and scratched his head while these here words sort of sunk +in. Then says very smooth: 'I'll let you take the best hoss I've got, +an' I won't ask much cash to boot.' + +"I begin wonderin' what pa was drivin' at, but I didn't say +nothin'--jest held myself together and waited. + +"'Look over there to the corral,' says pa, and pointed. 'They's a hoss +that ought to take you wherever you want to go. It's the best hoss I've +ever had.' + +"It was the best horse pa ever had, too. It was a piebald pinto called +Jo, after my cousin Josiah, who's jest a plain bad un and raises hell +when there's any excuse. The piebald, he didn't even need an excuse. You +see, he's one of them hosses that likes company. When he leaves the +corral he likes to have another hoss for a runnin' mate and he was jest +as tame as anything. I could ride him; anybody could ride him. But if +you took him outside the bars of the corral without company, first thing +he done was to see if one of the other hosses was comin' out to join +him. When he seen that he was all laid out to make a trip by himself he +jest nacherally started in to raise hell. Which Jo can raise more hell +for his size than any hoss I ever seen. + +"He's what you call an eddicated bucker. He don't fool around with no +pauses. He jest starts in and figgers out a situation and then he gets +busy slidin' the gent that's on him off'n the saddle. An' he always used +to win out. In fact, he was known for it all around these parts. He +begun nice and easy, but he worked up like a fiddler playin' a favourite +piece, and the end was the rider lyin' on the ground. + +"Whenever the boys around here wanted any excitement they used to come +over and try their hands with Jo. We used to keep a pile of arnica and +stuff like that around to rub them up with and tame down the bruises +after Jo laid 'em cold on the ground. There wasn't never anybody could +ride that hoss when he was started out alone. + +"Well, this tenderfoot, he looks over the hoss in the corral and says: +'That's a pretty fine mount, it seems to me. What do you want to boot?' + +"'Aw, twenty-five dollars is enough,' says pa. + +"'All right,' says the tenderfoot, 'here's the money.' + +"And he counts it out in pa's hand. + +"He says: 'What a little beauty! It would be a treat to see him work on +a polo field.' + +"Pa says: 'It'd'be a treat to see this hoss work anywhere.' + +"Then he steps on my foot to make me wipe the grin off'n my face. + +"Down goes the tenderfoot and takes his saddle and flops it on the +piebald pinto, and the piebald was jest as nice as milk. Then he leads +him out'n the corral and gets on. + +"First the pinto takes a look over his shoulder like he was waiting for +one of his pals among the hosses to come along, but he didn't see none. +Then the circus started. An' b'lieve me, it was some circus. Jo hadn't +had much action for some time, an' he must have used the wait thinkin' +up new ways of raisin' hell. + +"There ain't enough words in the Bible to describe what he done. Which +maybe you sort of gather that he had to keep on performin', because the +tenderfoot was still in the saddle. He was. An' he never pulled +leather. No, sir, he never touched the buckin' strap, but jest sat there +with his teeth set and his lips twistin' back--the same smile he had +when he got into the saddle. But pretty soon I s'pose Jo had a chance to +figure out that it didn't do him no particular harm to be alone. + +"The minute he seen that he stopped fightin' and started off at a gallop +the way the tenderfoot wanted him to go, which was over there. + +"'Damn my eyes!' says pa, an' couldn't do nuthin' but just stand there +repeatin' that with variations because with Jo gone there wouldn't be no +drawin' card to get the boys around the house no more. But you're +lookin' sort of sleepy, stranger?" + +"I am," answered Nash. + +"Well, if you'd seen that show you wouldn't be thinkin' of sleep. Not +for some time." + +"Maybe not, but the point is I didn't see it. D'you mind if I turn in on +that bunk over there?" + +"Help yourself," said the boy. "What time d'you want me to wake you up?" + +"Never mind; I wake up automatic. S'long, Bud." + +He stretched out on the blankets and was instantly asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +A TOUCH OF CRIMSON + +At the end of three hours he awoke as sharply as though an alarm were +clamouring at his ear. There was no elaborate preparation for renewed +activities. A single yawn and stretch and he was again on his feet. +Since the boy was not in sight he cooked himself an enormous meal, +devoured it, and went out to the mustang. + +The roan greeted him with a volley from both heels that narrowly missed +the head of Nash, but the cowpuncher merely smiled tolerantly. + +"Feelin' fit agin, eh, damn your soul?" he said genially, and picking up +a bit of board, fallen from the side of the shed, he smote the mustang +mightily along the ribs. The mustang, as if it recognized the touch of +the master, pricked up one ear and side-stepped. The brief rest had +filled it with all the old, vicious energy. + +For once more, as soon as they rode clear of the door, there ensued a +furious struggle between man and beast. The man won, as always, and the +roan, dropping both ears flat against its neck, trotted sullenly out +across the hills. + +In that monotony of landscape, one mile exactly like the other, no +landmarks to guide him, no trail to follow, however faintly worn, it was +strange to see the cowpuncher strike out through the vast distances of +the mountain-desert with as much confidence as if he were travelling on +a paved street in a city. He had not even a compass to direct him but he +seemed to know his way as surely as the birds know the untracked paths +of the air in the seasons of migration. + +Straight on through the afternoon and during the long evening he kept +his course at the same unvarying dog-trot until the flush of the sunset +faded to a stern grey and the purple hills in the distance turned blue +with shadows. Then, catching the glimmer of a light on a hillside, he +turned toward it to put up for the night. + +In answer to his call a big man with a lantern came to the door and +raised his light until it shone on a red, bald head and a portly figure. +His welcome was neither hearty nor cold; hospitality is expected in the +mountain-desert. So Nash put up his horse in the shed and came back to +the house. + +The meal was half over, but two girls immediately set a plate heaped +with fried potatoes and bacon and flanked by a mighty cup of jetblack +coffee on one side and a pile of yellow biscuits on the other. He nodded +to them, grunted by way of expressing thanks, and sat down to eat. + +Beside the tall father and the rosy-faced mother, the family consisted +of the two girls, one of them with her hair twisted severely close to +her head, wearing a man's blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up +to a pair of brown elbows. Evidently she was the boy of the family and +to her fell the duty of performing the innumerable chores of the ranch, +for her hands were thick with work and the tips of the fingers blunted. +Also she had that calm, self-satisfied eye which belongs to the +workingman who knows that he has earned his meal. + +Her sister monopolized all the beauty and the grace, not that she was +either very pretty or extremely graceful, but she was instinct with the +challenge of femininity like a rare scent. It lingered about her, it +enveloped her ways; it gave a light to her eyes and made her smile +exquisite. Her clothes were not of much finer material than her +sister's, but they were cut to fit, and a bow of crimson ribbon at her +throat was as effective in that environment as the most costly orchids +on an evening gown. + +She was armed in pride this night, talking only to her mother, and then +in monosyllables alone. At first it occurred to Steve that his coming +had made her self-conscious, but he soon discovered that her pride was +directed at the third man at the table. She at least maintained a +pretence of eating, but he made not even a sham, sitting miserably, his +mouth hard set, his eyes shadowed by a tremendous frown. At length he +shoved back his chair with such violence that the table trembled. + +"Well," he rumbled, "I guess this lets me out. S'long." + +And he strode heavily from the room; a moment later his cursing came +back to them as he rode into the night. + +"Takes it kind of hard, don't he?" said the father. + +And the mother murmured: "Poor Ralph!" + +"So you went an' done it?" said the mannish girl to her sister. + +"What of it?" snapped the other. + +"He's too good for you, that's what of it." + +"Girls!" exclaimed the mother anxiously. "Remember we got a guest!" + +"Oh," said she of the strong brown arms, "I guess we can't tell him +nothin'; I guess he had eyes to be seein' what's happened." She turned +calmly to Steve. + +"Lizzie turned down Ralph Boardman--poor feller!" + +"Sue!" cried the other girl. + +"Well, after you done it, are you ashamed to have it talked about? You +make me sore, I'll tell a man!" + +"That's enough, Sue," growled the father. + +"What's enough?" + +"We ain't goin' to have no more show about this. I've had my supper +spoiled by it already." + +"I say it's a rotten shame," broke out Sue, and she repeated, "Ralph's +too good for her. All because of a city dude--a tenderfoot!" + +In the extremity of her scorn her voice drawled in a harsh murmur. + +"Then take him yourself, if you can get him!" cried Lizzie. "I'm sure I +don't want him!" + +Their eyes blazed at each other across the table, and Lizzie, having +scored an unexpected point, struck again. + +"I think you've always had a sort of hankerin' after Ralph--oh, I've +seen your eyes rollin' at him." + +The other girl coloured hotly through her tan. + +"If I was fond of him I wouldn't be ashamed to let him know, you can +tell the world that. And I wouldn't keep him trottin' about like a +little pet dog till I got tired of him and give him up for the sake of a +greenhorn who"--her voice lowered to a spiteful hiss--"kissed you the +first time he even seen you!" + +In vain Lizzie fought for her control; her lip trembled and her voice +shook. + +"I hate you, Sue!" + +"Sue, ain't you ashamed of yourself?" pleaded the mother. + +"No, I ain't! Think of it; here's Ralph been sweet on Liz for two years +an' now she gives him the go-by for a skinny, affected dude like that +feller that was here. And he's forgot you already, Liz, the minute he +stopped laughing at you for bein' so easy." + +"Ma, are you goin' to let Sue talk like this--right before a stranger?" + +"Sue, you shut up!" commanded the father. + +"I don't see nobody that can make me," she said, surly as a grown boy. +"I can't make any more of a fool out of Liz than that tenderfoot made +her!" + +"Did he," asked Steve, "ride a piebald mustang?" + +"D'you know him?" breathed Lizzie, forgetting the tears of shame which +had been gathering in her eyes. + +"Nope. Jest heard a little about him along the road." + +"What's his name?" + +Then she coloured, even before Sue could say spitefully: "Didn't he even +have to tell you his name before he kissed you?" + +"He did! His name is--Tony!" + +"Tony!"--in deep disgust. "Well, he's dark enough to be a dago! Maybe +he's a foreign count, or something, Liz, and he'll take you back to live +in some castle or other." + +But the girl queried, in spite of this badinage: "Do you know his name?" + +"His name," said Nash, thinking that it could do no harm to betray as +much as this, "is Anthony Bard, I think." + +"And you don't know him?" + +"All I know is that the feller who used to own that piebald mustang is +pretty mad and cusses every time he thinks of him." + +"He didn't steal the hoss?" + +This with more bated breath than if the question had been: "He didn't +kill a man?" for indeed horse-stealing was the greater crime. + +Even Nash would not make such an accusation directly, and therefore he +fell back on an innuendo almost as deadly. + +"I dunno," he said non-committally, and shrugged his shoulders. + +With all his soul he was concentrating on the picture of the man who +conquered a fighting horse and flirted successfully with a pretty girl +the same day; each time riding on swiftly from his conquest. The clues +on this trail were surely thick enough, but they were of such a nature +that the pleasant mind of Steve grew more and more thoughtful. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +LEMONADE + +In fact, so thoughtful had Nash become, that he slept with extraordinary +lightness that night and was up at the first hint of day. Sue appeared +on the scene just in time to witness the last act of the usual drama of +bucking on the part of the roan, before it settled down to the +mechanical dog-trot with which it would wear out the ceaseless miles of +the mountain-desert all day and far into the night, if need be. + +Nash now swung more to the right, cutting across the hills, for he +presumed that by this time the tenderfoot must have gotten his bearings +and would head straight for Eldara. It was a stiff two day journey, now, +the whole first day's riding having been a worse than useless detour; so +the bulldog jaw set harder and harder, and the keen eyes squinted as if +to look into the dim future. + +Once each day, about noon, when the heat made even the desert and the +men of the desert drowsy, he allowed his imagination to roam freely, +counting the thousand dollars over and over again, and tasting again the +joys of a double salary. Yet even his hardy imagination rarely rose to +the height of Sally Fortune. That hour of dreaming, however, made the +day of labour almost pleasant. + +This time, in the very middle of his dream, he reached the cross-roads +saloon and general merchandise store of Flanders; so he banished his +visions with a compelling shrug of the shoulders and rode for it at a +gallop, a hot dryness growing in his throat at every stride. Quick +service he was sure to get, for there were not more than half a dozen +cattle-ponies standing in front of the little building with its rickety +walls guiltless of paint save for the one great sign inscribed with +uncertain letters. + +He swung from the saddle, tossed the reins over the head of the mustang, +made a stride forward--and then checked himself with a soft curse and +reached for his gun. + +For the door of the bar dashed open and down the steps rushed a tall man +with light yellow moustache, so long that it literally blew on either +side over his shoulders as he ran; in either hand he carried a +revolver---a two-gun man, fleeing, perhaps, from another murder. + +For Nash recognized in him a character notorious through a thousand +miles of the range, Sandy Ferguson, nicknamed by the colour of that +famous moustache, which was envied and dreaded so far and so wide. It +was not fear that made Nash halt, for otherwise he would have finished +the motion and whipped out his gun; but at least it was something +closely akin to fear. + +For that matter, there were unmistakable signs in Sandy himself of what +would have been called arrant terror in any other man. His face was so +bloodless that the pallor showed even through the leathery tan; one eye +stared wildly, the other being sheltered under a clumsy patch which +could not quite conceal the ugly bruise beneath. Under his great +moustache his lips were as puffed and swollen as the lips of a negro. + +Staggering in his haste, he whirled a few paces from the house and +turned, his guns levelled. At the same moment the door opened and the +perspiring figure of little fat Flanders appeared. Scorn and anger +rather than hate or any bloodlust appeared in his face. His right arm, +hanging loosely at his side, held a revolver, and he seemed to have the +greatest unconcern for the levelled weapons of the gunman. + +He made a gesture with that armed hand, and Sandy winced as though a +whiplash had flicked him. + +"Steady up, damn your eyes!" bellowed Flanders, "and put them guns away. +Put 'em up; hear me?" + +To the mortal astonishment of Nash, Sandy obeyed, keeping the while a +fascinated eye upon the little Dutchman. + +"Now climb your hoss and beat it, and if I ever find you in reach again, +I'll send my kid out to rope you and give you a hoss-whippin'." + +The gun fighter lost no time. A single leap carried him into his saddle +and he was off over the sand with a sharp rattle of the beating hoofs. + +"Well," breathed Nash, "I'll be hanged." + +"Sure you will," suggested Flanders, at once changing his frown for a +smile of somewhat professional good nature, as one who greeted an old +customer, "sure you will unless you come in an' have a drink on the +house. I want something myself to forget what I been doin'. I feel like +the dog-catcher." + +Steve, deeply meditative, strode into the room. + +"Partner," he said gravely to Flanders, "I've always prided myself on +having eyes a little better than the next one, but just now I guess I +must of been seein' double. Seemed to me that that was Sandy Ferguson +that you hot-footed out of that door--or has Sandy got a double?" + +"Nope," said the bartender, wiping the last of the perspiration from his +forehead, "that's Sandy, all right." + +"Then gimme a big drink. I need it." + +The bottle spun expertly across the bar, and the glasses tinkled after. + +"Funny about him, all right," nodded Flanders, "but then it's happened +the same way with others I could tell about. As long as he was winnin' +Sandy was the king of any roost. The minute he lost a fight he wasn't +worth so many pounds of salt pork. Take a hoss; a fine hoss is often +jest the same. Long as it wins nothin' can touch some of them blooded +boys. But let 'em go under the wire second, maybe jest because they's +packing twenty pounds too much weight, and they're never any good any +more. Any second-rater can lick 'em. I lost five hundred iron boys on a +hoss that laid down like that." + +"All of which means," suggested Nash, "that Sandy has been licked?" + +"Licked? No, he ain't been licked, but he's been plumb annihilated, +washed off the map, cleaned out, faded, rubbed into the dirt; if there +was some stronger way of puttin' it, I would. Only last night, at that, +but now look at him. A girl that never seen a man before could tell that +he wasn't any more dangerous now than if he was made of putty; but if +the fool keeps packin' them guns he's sure to get into trouble." + +He raised his glass. + +"So here's to the man that Sandy was and ain't no more." + +They drank solemnly. + +"Maybe you took the fall out of him yourself, Flanders?" + +"Nope. I ain't no fighter, Steve. You know that. The feller that downed +Sandy was--a tenderfoot. Yep, a greenhorn." + +"Ah-h-h," drawled Nash softly, "I thought so." + +"You did?" + +"Anyway, let's hear the story. Another drink--on me, Flanders." + +"It was like this. Along about evening of yesterday Sandy was in here +with a couple of other boys. He was pretty well lighted--the glow was +circulatin' promiscuous, in fact--when in comes a feller about your +height, Steve, but lighter. Goodlookin', thin face, big dark eyes like a +girl. He carried the signs of a long ride on him. Well, sir, he walks up +to the bar and says: 'Can you make me a very sour lemonade, Mr. +Bartender?' + +"I grabbed the edge of the bar and hung tight. + +"'A which?' says I. + +"'Lemonade, if you please.' + +"I rolled an eye at Sandy, who was standin' there with his jaw falling, +and then I got busy with lemons and the squeezer, but pretty soon +Ferguson walks up to the stranger. + +"'Are you English?' he asks. + +"I knew by his tone what was comin', so I slid the gun I keep behind the +bar closer and got prepared for a lot of damaged crockery. + +"'I?' says the tenderfoot. 'Why, no. What makes you ask?' + +"'Your damned funny way of talkin',' says Sandy. + +"'Oh,' says the greenhorn, nodding as if he was thinkin' this over and +discovering a little truth in it. 'I suppose the way I talk is a little +unusual.' + +"'A little rotten,' says Sandy. 'Did I hear you askin' for a lemonade?' + +"'You did.' + +"'Would I seem to be askin' too many questions,' says Sandy, terrible +polite, 'if I inquires if bar whisky ain't good enough for you?' + +"The tenderfoot, he stands there jest as easy as you an' me stand here +now, and he laughed. + +"He says: 'The bar whisky I've tasted around this country is not very +good for any one, unless, perhaps, after a snake has bitten you. Then it +works on the principle of poison fight poison, eh?' + +"Sandy says after a minute: 'I'm the most quietest, gentle, innercent +cowpuncher that ever rode the range, but I'd tell a man that it riles me +to hear good bar whisky insulted like this. Look at me! Do I look as if +whisky ain't good for a man?' + +"'Why,' says the tenderfoot, 'you look sort of funny to me.' + +"He said it as easy as if he was passin' the morning with Ferguson, but +I seen that it was the last straw with Sandy. He hefted out both guns +and trained 'em on the greenhorn. + +"I yelled: 'Sandy, for God's sake, don't be killin' a tenderfoot!' + +"'If whisky will kill him he's goin' to die,' says Sandy. 'Flanders, +pour out a drink of rye for this gent.' + +"I did it, though my hand was shaking a lot, and the chap takes the +glass and raises it polite, and looks at the colour of it. I thought he +was goin' to drink, and starts wipin' the sweat off'n my forehead. + +"But this chap, he sets down the glass and smiles over to Sandy. + +"'Listen,' he says, still grinnin', 'in the old days I suppose this +would have been a pretty bluff, but it won't work with me now. You want +me to drink this glass of very bad whisky, but I'm sure that you don't +want it badly enough to shoot me. + +"'There are many reasons. In the old days a man shot down another and +then rode off on his horse and was forgotten, but in these days the +telegraph is faster than any horse that was ever foaled. They'd be sure +to get you, sir, though you might dodge them for a while. And I believe +that for a crime such as you threaten, they have recently installed a +little electric chair which is a perfectly good inducer of sleep--in +fact, it is better than a cradle. Taking these things all into +consideration, I take it for granted that you are bluffing, my friend, +and one of my favourite occupations is calling a bluff. You look +dangerous, but I've an idea that you are as yellow as your moustache.' + +"Sandy, he sort of swelled up all over like a poisoned dog. + +"He says: 'I begin to see your style. You want a clean man-handlin', +which suits me uncommon well.' + +"With that, he lays down his guns, soft and careful, and puts up his +fists, and goes for the other gent. + +"He makes his pass, which should have sent the other gent into kingdom +come. But it didn't. No, sir, the tenderfoot, he seemed to evaporate. He +wasn't there when the fist of Ferguson come along. Ferguson, he checked +up short and wheeled around and charged again like a bull. And he missed +again. And so they kept on playin' a sort of a game of tag over the +place, the stranger jest side-steppin' like a prize-fighter, the +prettiest you ever seen, and not developin' when Sandy started on one of +his swings. + +"At last one of Sandy's fists grazed him on the shoulder and sort of +peeved him, it looked like. He ducks under Sandy's next punch, steps in, +and wallops Sandy over the eye--that punch didn't travel more'n six +inches. But it slammed Sandy down in a corner like he's been shot. + +"He was too surprised to be much hurt, though, and drags himself up to +his feet, makin' a pass at his pocket at the same time. Then he came +again, silent and thinkin' of blood, I s'pose, with a knife in his hand. + +"This time the tenderfoot didn't wait. He went in with a sort of hitch +step, like a dancer. Ferguson's knife carved the air beside the +tenderfoot's head, and then the skinny boy jerked up his right and his +left--one, two--into Sandy's mouth. Down he goes again--slumps down as +if all the bones in his body was busted--right down on his face. The +other feller grabs his shoulder and jerks him over on his back. + +"He stands lookin' down at him for a moment, and then he says, sort of +thoughtful: 'He isn't badly hurt, but I suppose I shouldn't have hit him +twice.' + +"Can you beat that, Steve? You can't! + +"When Sandy come to he got up to his feet, wobbling--seen his guns--went +over and scooped 'em up, with the eye of the tenderfoot on him all the +time--scooped 'em up--stood with 'em all poised--and so he backed out +through the door. It wasn't any pretty thing to see. The tenderfoot, he +turned to the bar again. + +"'If you don't mind,' he says, 'I think I'll switch my order and take +that whisky instead. I seem to need it.' + +"'Son!' says I, 'there ain't nothin' in the house you can't have for the +askin'. Try some of this!' + +"And I pulled out a bottle of my private stock--you know the stuff; I've +had it twenty-five years, and it was ten years old when I got it. That +ain't as much of a lie as it sounds. + +"He takes a glass of it and sips it, sort of suspicious, like a wolf +scentin' the wind for an elk in winter. Then his face lighted up like a +lantern had been flashed on it. You'd of thought that he was lookin' his +long-lost brother in the eye from the way he smiled at me. He holds the +glass up and lets the light come through it, showin' the little traces +and bubbles of oil. + +"'May I know your name?' he says. + +"It made me feel like Rockerbilt, hearin' him say that, in _that_ +special voice. + +"'Me,' says I, 'I'm Flanders.' + +"'It's an honour to know you, Mr. Flanders,' he says. 'My name is +Anthony Bard.' + +"We shook hands, and his grip was three fourths man, I'll tell the +world. + +"'Good liquor,' says he, 'is like a fine lady. Only a gentleman can +appreciate it. I drink to you, sir.' + +"So that's how Sandy Ferguson went under the sod. To-day? Well, I +couldn't let Ferguson stand in a barroom where a gentleman had been, +could I?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +THE DARKNESS IN ELDARA + +Even the stout roan grew weary during the third day, and when they +topped the last rise of hills, and looked down to darker shadows in +Eldara in the black heart of the hollow, the mustang stood with hanging +head, and one ear flopped forward. Cruel indeed had been the pace which +Nash maintained, yet they had never been able to overhaul the flying +piebald of Anthony Bard. + +As they trotted down the slope, Nash looked to his equipment, handled +his revolver, felt the strands of the lariat, and resting only his toes +in the stirrups, eased all his muscles to make sure that they were +uncramped from the long journey. He was fit; there was no doubt of that. + +Coming down the main street--for Eldara boasted no fewer than three +thoroughfares--the first houses which Nash passed showed no lights. As +far as he could see, the blinds were all drawn; not even the glimmer of +a candle showed, and the voices which he heard were muffled and low. + +He thought of plague or some other disaster which might have overtaken +the little village and wiped out nine tenths of the populace in a day. +Only such a thing could account for silence in Eldara. There should have +been bursts and roars of laughter here and there, and now and then a +harsh stream of cursing. There should have been clatter of kitchen tins; +there should have been neighing of horses; there should have been the +quiver and tingle of children's voices at play in the dusty streets. But +there was none of this. The silence was as thick and oppressive as the +unbroken dark of the night. Even Butler's saloon was closed! + +This, however, was something which he would not believe, no matter what +testimony his eyes gave him. He rode up to a shuttered window and kicked +it with his heel. + +Only the echoes of that racket replied to him from the interior of the +place. He swore, somewhat touched with awe, and kicked again. + +A faint voice called: "Who's there?" + +"Steve Nash. What the devil's happened to Eldara?" + +The boards of the shutter stirred, opened, so that the man within could +look out. + +"Is it Steve, honest?" + +"Damn it, Butler, don't you know my voice? What's turned Eldara into a +cemetery?" + +"Cemetery's right. 'Butch' Conklin and his gang are going to raid the +place to-night." + +"Butch Conklin?" + +And Nash whistled long and low. + +"But why the devil don't the boys get together if they know Butch is +coming with his gunmen?" + +"That's what they've done. Every able-bodied man in town is out in the +hills trying to surprise Conklin's gang before they hit town with their +guns going." + +Butler was a one-legged man, so Nash kept back the question which +naturally formed in his mind. + +"How do they know Conklin is coming? Who gave the tip?" + +"Conklin himself." + +"What? Has he been in town?" + +"Right. Came in roaring drunk." + +"Why'd they let him get away again?" + +"Because the sheriff's a bonehead and because our marshal is solid +ivory. That's why." + +"What happened?" + +"Butch came in drunk, as I was saying, which he generally is, but he +wasn't giving no trouble at all, and nobody felt particular called on to +cross him and ask questions. He was real sociable, in fact, and that's +how the mess was started." + +"Go on. I don't get your drift." + +"Everybody was treatin' Butch like he was the king of the earth and not +passin' out any backtalk, all except one tenderfoot----" + +But here a stream of tremendous profanity burst from Nash. It rose, it +rushed on, it seemed an exhaustless vocabulary built up by long practice +on mustangs and cattle. + +At length: "Is that damned fool in Eldara?" + +"D'you know him?" + +"No. Anyway, go on. What happened?" + +"I was sayin' that Butch was feelin' pretty sociable. It went all right +in the bars. He was in here and didn't do nothin' wrong. Even paid for +all the drinks for everybody in the house, which nobody could ask more +even from a white man. But then Butch got hungry and went up the street +to Sally Fortune's place." + +A snarl came from Nash. + +"Did they let that swine go in there?" + +"Who'd stop him? Would you?" + +"I'd try my damnedest." + +"Anyway, in he went and got the centre table and called for ten dollars' +worth of bacon and eggs--which there hasn't been an egg in Eldara this +week. Sally, she told him, not being afraid even of Butch. He got pretty +sore at that and said that it was a frame-up and everyone was ag'in' +him. But finally he allowed that if she'd sit down to the table and keep +him company he'd manage to make out on whatever her cook had ready to +eat." + +"And Sally done it?" groaned Nash. + +"Sure; it was like a dare--and you know Sally. She'd risk her whole +place any time for the sake of a bet." + +"I know it, but don't rub it in." + +"She fetched out a steak and served Butch as if he'd been a king and +then sat down beside him and started kiddin' him along, with all the +gang of us sittin' or standin' around and laughin' fit to bust, but not +loud for fear Butch would get annoyed. + +"Then two things come in together and spoiled the prettiest little party +that was ever started in Eldara. First was that player piano which Sally +got shipped in and paid God-knows-how-much for; the second was this +greenhorn I was tellin' you about." + +"Go on," said Nash, the little snarl coming back in his voice. "Tell me +how the tenderfoot walked up and kicked Butch out of the place." + +"Somebody been tellin' you?" + +"No; I just been readin' the mind of Eldara." + +"It was a nice play, though. This Bard--we found out later that was his +name--walks in, takes a table, and not being served none too quick, he +walks over and slips a nickel in the slot of the piano. Out she starts +with a piece of rippin' ragtime--you know how loud it plays? Butch, he +kept on talkin' for a minute, but couldn't hear himself think. Finally +he bellers: 'Who turned that damned tin-pan loose?' + +"This Bard walks up and bows. He says: 'Sir, I came here to find food, +and since I can't get service, I'll take music as a substitute.' + +"Them was the words he used, Steve, honest to God. Used them to Butch! + +"Well, Conklin was too flabbergasted to budge, and Bard, he leaned over +and says to Sally: 'This floor is fairly smooth. Suppose you and I dance +till I get a chance to eat?' + +"We didn't know whether to laugh or to cheer, but most of us compromised +by keeping an eye on Butch's gun. + +"Sally says, 'Sure I'll dance,' and gets up. + +"'Wait!' hollers Butch; 'are you leavin' me for this wall-eyed galoot?' + +"There ain't nothin' Sally loves more'n a fight--we all know that. But +this time I guess she took pity on the poor tenderfoot, or maybe she +jest didn't want to get her floor all messed up. + +"'Keep your hat on, Butch,' she says, 'all I want to do is to give him +some motherly advice.' + +"'If you're acting that part,' says Bard, calm as you please, 'I've got +to tell mother that she's been keeping some pretty bad company.' + +"'Some what?' bellers Butch, not believin' his ears. + +"And young Bard, he steps around the girl and stands over Butch. + +"'Bad company is what I said,' he repeats, 'but maybe I can be +convinced.' + +"'Easy,' says Butch, and reaches for his gun. + +"We all dived for the door, but me being held up on account of my +missing leg, I was slow an' couldn't help seein' what happened. Butch +was fast, but the young feller was faster. He had Butch by the wrist +before the gun came clear--just gave a little twist--and there he stood +with the gun in his hand pointin' into Butch's face, and Butch sittin' +there like a feller in a trance or wakin' up out of a bad dream. + +"Then he gets up, slow and dignified, though he had enough liquor in him +to float a ship. + +"'I been mobbed,' he says, 'it's easy to see that. I come here peaceful +and quiet, and here I been mobbed. But I'm comin' back, boys, and I +ain't comin' alone.' + +"There was our chance to get him, while he was walking out of that place +without a gun, but somehow nobody moved for him. He didn't look none too +easy, even without his shootin' irons. Out he goes into the night, and +we stood around starin' at each other. Everybody was upset, except Sally +and Bard. + +"He says: 'Miss Fortune, this is our dance, I think.' + +"'Excuse me,' says Sally, 'I almost forgot about it.' + +"And they started to dance to the piano, waltzin' around among the +tables; the rest of us lit out for home because we knew that Butch would +be on his way with his gang before we got very far under cover. But hey, +Steve, where you goin'?" + +"I'm going to get in on that dance," called Nash, and was gone at a +racing gallop down the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +BLUFF + +He found no dance in progress, however, but in the otherwise empty +eating place, which Sally owned and ran with her two capable hands and +the assistance of a cook, sat Sally herself dining at the same table +with the tenderfoot, the flirt, the horse-breaker, the tamer of +gun-fighters. + +Nash stood in the shadow of the doorway watching that lean, handsome +face with the suggestion of mockery in the eyes and the trace of +sternness around the thin lips. Not a formidable figure by any means, +but since his experiences of the past few days, Nash was grown extremely +thoughtful. + +What he finally thought he caught in this most unusual tenderfoot was a +certain alertness of a more or less hair-trigger variety. Even now as he +sat at ease at the table, one elbow resting lightly upon it, apparently +enwrapped in the converse of Sally Fortune, Nash had a consciousness +that the other might be on his feet and in the most distant part of the +room within a second. + +What he noted in the second instant of his observation was that Sally +was not at all loath to waste her time on the stranger. She was eating +with a truly formidable conventionality of manner, and a certain grace +with which she raised the ponderous coffee cup, made of crockery +guaranteed to resist all falls, struck awe through the heart of the +cowpuncher. She was bent on another conquest, beyond all doubt, and that +she would not make it never entered the thoughts of Nash. He set his +face to banish a natural scowl and advanced with a good-natured smile +into the room. + +"Hello!" he called. + +"It's old Steve!" sang out Sally, and whirling from her chair, she +advanced almost at a run to meet him, caught him by both hands, and led +him to a table next to that at which she had been sitting. + +It was as gracefully done as if she had been welcoming a brother, but +Nash, knowing Sally, understood perfectly that it was only a play to +impress the eye of Bard. Nevertheless he was forced to accept it in good +part. + +"My old pal, Steve Nash," said Sally, "and this is Mr. Anthony Bard." + +Just the faintest accent fell on the "Mr.," but it made Steve wince. He +rose and shook hands gravely with the tenderfoot. + +"I stopped at Butler's place down the street," he said, "and been +hearin' a pile about a little play you made a while ago. It was about +time for somebody to call old Butch's bluff." + +"Bluff?" cried Sally indignantly. + +"Bluff?" queried Bard, with a slight raising of the eyebrows. + +"Sure--bluff. Butch wasn't any more dangerous than a cat with trimmed +claws. But I guess you seen that?" + +He settled down easily in his chair just as Sally resumed her place +opposite Bard. + +"Steve," she said, with a quiet venom, "that bluff of his has been as +good as four-of-a-kind with you for a long time. I never seen you make +any play at Butch." + +He returned amiably: "Like to sit here and have a nice social chat, +Sally, but I got to be gettin' back to the ranch, and in the meantime, +I'm sure hungry." + +At the reminder of business a green light came in the fine blue eyes of +Sally. They were her only really fine features, for the nose tilted an +engaging trifle, the mouth was a little too generous, the chin so strong +that it gave, in moments of passivity, an air of sternness to her face. +That sternness was exaggerated as she rose, keeping her glare fixed upon +Nash; a thing impossible for him to bear, so he lowered his eyes and +engaged in rolling a cigarette. She turned back toward Bard. + +"Sorry I got to go--before I finished eating--but business is business." + +"And sometimes," suggested Bard, "a bore." + +It was an excellent opening for a quarrel, but Nash was remembering +religiously a certain thousand dollars, and also a gesture of William +Drew when he seemed to be breaking an imaginary twig. So he merely +lighted his cigarette and seemed to have heard nothing. + +"The whole town," he remarked casually, "seems scared stiff by this +Butch; but of course he ain't comin' back to-night." + +"I suppose," said the tenderfoot, after a cold pause, "that he will +not." + +But the coldness reacted like the most genial warmth upon Nash. He had +chosen a part detestable to him but necessary to his business. He must +be a "gabber" for the nonce, a free talker, a chatterer, who would cover +up all pauses. + +"Kind of strange to ride into a dark town like this," he began, "but I +could tell you a story about--" + +"Oh, Steve," called the voice of Sally from the kitchen. + +He rose and nodded to Bard. + +"'Scuse me, I'll be back in a minute." + +"Thanks," answered the other, with a somewhat grim emphasis. + +In the kitchen Sally spoke without prelude. "What deviltry are you up to +now, Steve?" + +"Me?" he repeated with eyes widened by innocence. "What d'you mean, +Sally?" + +"Don't four-flush me, Steve." + +"Is eating in your place deviltry?" + +"Am I blind?" she answered hotly. "Have I got spring-halt, maybe? You're +too polite, Steve; I can always tell when you're on the way to a little +bell of your own making, by the way you get sort of kind and warmed up. +What is it now?" + +"Kiss me, Sally, and I'll tell you why I came to town." + +She said with a touch of colour: "I'll see you--" and then changing +quickly, she slipped inside his ready arms with a smile and tilted up +her face. + +"Now what is it, Steve?" + +"This," he answered. + +"What d'you mean?" + +"You know me, Sally. I've worn out the other ways of raising hell, so I +thought I'd start a little by coming to Eldara to kiss you." + +Her open hand cracked sharply twice on his lean face and she was out of +his arms. He followed, laughing, but she armed herself with a red-hot +frying pan and defied him. + +"You ain't even a good sport, Steve. I'm done with you! Kiss you?" + +He said calmly: "I see the hell is startin', all right." + +But she changed at once, and smiled up to him. + +"I can't stay mad at you, Steve. I s'pose it's because of your nerve. I +want you to do something for me." + +"What?" + +"Is that a way to take it! I've asked you a favour, Steve." + +He said suspiciously: "It's got something to do with the tenderfoot in +the room out there?" + +It was a palpable hit, for she coloured sharply. Then she took the bull +by the horns. + +"What if it is?" + +"Sally, d'you mean to say you've fallen for that cheap line of lingo he +passes out?" + +"Steve, don't try to kid me." + +"Why, you know who he is, don't you?" + +"Sure; Anthony Bard." + +"And do you know who Anthony Bard is?" + +"Well?" she asked with some anxiety. + +"Well, if you don't know you can find out. That's what the last girl +done." + +She wavered, and then blinked her eyes as if she were resolved to shut +out the truth. + +"I asked you to do me a favour, Steve." + +"And I will. You know that." + +"I want you to see that Bard gets safe out of this town." + +"Sure. Nothing I'd rather do." + +She tilted her head a little to one side and regarded him wistfully. + +"Are you double-crossin' me, Steve?" + +"Why d'you suspect me? Haven't I said I'd do it?" + +"But you said it too easy." + +The gentleness died in her face. She said sternly: "If you do +double-cross me, you'll find I'm about as hard as any man on the range. +Get me?" + +"Shake." + +Their hands met. After all, he did not guarantee what would happen to +the tenderfoot after they were clear of the town. But perhaps this was a +distinction a little too fine for the downright mind of the girl. A sea +of troubles besieged the mind of Nash. + +And to let that sea subside he wandered back to the eating room and +found the tenderfoot finishing his coffee. The latter kept an eye of +frank suspicion upon him. So the silence held for a brooding moment, +until Bard asked: "D'you know the way to the ranch of William Drew?" + +It was a puzzler to Nash. Was not that his job, to go out and bring the +man to Drew's place? Here he was already on the way. He remembered just +in time that the manner of bringing was decidedly qualified. + +He said aloud: "The way? Sure; I work on Drew's place." + +"Really!" + +"Yep; foreman." + +"You don't happen to be going back that way to-night?" + +"Not all the way; part of it." + +"Mind if I went along?" + +"Nobody to keep you from it," said the cowpuncher without enthusiasm. + +"By the way, what sort of a man is Drew?" + +"Don't you know him?" + +"No. The reason I want to see him is because I want to get the right to +do some--er--fishing and hunting on a place of his on the other side of +the range." + +"The place with the old house on it; the place Logan is?" + +"Exactly. Also I wish to see Logan again. I've got several little things +I'd like to have him explain." + +"H-m!" grunted Nash without apparent interest. + +"And Drew?" + +"He's a big feller; big and grey." + +"Ah-h-h," said the other, and drew in his breath, as though he were +drinking. + +It seemed to Nash that he had never seen such an unpleasant smile. + +"You'll get what you want out of Drew. He's generous." + +"I hope so," nodded the other, with far-off eyes. "I've got a lot to ask +of him." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +BUTCH RETURNS + +He reminded Nash of some big puma cub warming itself at a hearth like a +common tabby cat, a tame puma thrusting out its claws and turning its +yellow eyes up to its owner--tame, but with infinite possibilities of +danger. For the information which Nash had given seemed to remove all +his distrust of the moment before and he became instantly genial, +pleasant. In fact, he voiced this sentiment with a disarming frankness +immediately. + +"Perhaps I've seemed to be carrying a chip on my shoulder, Mr. Nash. You +see, I'm not long in the West, and the people I've met seem to be ready +to fight first and ask questions afterward. So I've caught the habit, I +suppose." + +"Which a habit like that ain't uncommon. The graveyards are full of +fellers that had that habit and they're going to be fuller still of the +same kind." + +Here Sally entered, carrying the meal of the cowpuncher, arranged it, +and then sat on the edge of Bard's table, turning from one to the other +as a bird on a spray of leaves turns from sunlight to shadow and cannot +make a choice. + +"Bard," stated Nash, "is going out to the ranch with me to-night." + +"Long ride for to-night, isn't it?" + +"Yes, but we'll bunk on the way and finish up early in the morning." + +"Then you'll have a chance to teach him Western manners on the way, +Steve." + +"Manners?" queried the Easterner, smiling up to the girl. + +She turned, caught him beneath the chin with one hand, tilting his face, +and raised the lessoning forefinger of the other while she stared down +at him with a half frown and a half smile like a schoolteacher about to +discipline a recalcitrant boy. + +"Western manners," she said, "mean first not to doubt a man till he +tries to double-cross you, and not to trust him till he saves your life; +to keep your gun inside the leather till you're backed up against the +wall, and then to start shootin' as soon as the muzzle is past the +holster. Then the thing to remember is that the fast shootin' is fine, +but sure shootin' is a lot better. D'you get me?" + +"That's a fine sermon," smiled Bard, "but you're too young to make a +convincing preacher, Miss Fortune." + +"Misfortune," said the girl quickly, "don't have to be old to do a lot +of teachin'." + +She sat back and regarded him with something of a frown and with folded +arms. + +He said with a sudden earnestness: "You seem to take it for granted that +I'm due for a lot of trouble." + +But she shook her head gloomily. + +"I know what you're due for; I can see it in your eyes; I can hear it in +your way of talkin'. If you was to ride the range with a sheriff on one +side of you and a marshal on the other you couldn't help fallin' into +trouble." + +"As a fortune-teller," remarked Nash, "you'd make a good undertaker, +Sally." + +"Shut up, Steve. I've seen this bird in action and I know what I'm +talking about. When you coming back this way, Bard?" + +He said thoughtfully: "Perhaps to-morrow night--perhaps--" + +"It ought to be to-morrow night," she said pointedly, her eyes on Nash. + +The latter had pushed his chair back a trifle and sat now with downward +head and his right hand resting lightly on his thigh. Only the place in +which they sat was illumined by the two lamps, and the forward part of +the room, nearer the street, was a sea of shadows, wavering when the +wind stirred the flame in one of the lamps or sent it smoking up the +chimney. Sally and Bard sat with their backs to the door, and Nash half +facing it. + +"Steve," she said, with a sudden low tenseness of voice that sent a +chill up Bard's spinal cord, "Steve, what's wrong?" + +"This," answered the cowboy calmly, and whirling in his chair, his gun +flashed and exploded. + +They sprang up in time to see the bulky form of Butch Conklin rise out +of the shadows in the front part of the room with outstretched arms, +from one of which a revolver dropped clattering to the floor. Backward +he reeled as though a hand were pulling him from behind, and then +measured his length with a crash on the floor. + +Bard, standing erect, quite forgot to touch his weapon, but Sally had +produced a ponderous forty-five with mysterious speed and now crouched +behind a table with the gun poised. Nash, bending low, ran forward to +the fallen man. + +"Nicked, but not done for," he called. + +"Thank God!" cried Sally, and the two joined Nash about the prostrate +body. + +That bullet had had very certain intentions, but by a freak of chance +it had been deflected on the angle of the skull and merely ploughed a +bloody furrow through the mat of hair from forehead to the back of the +skull. He was stunned, but hardly more seriously hurt than if he had +been knocked down by a club. + +"I've an idea," said the Easterner calmly, "that I owe my life to you, +Mr. Nash." + +"Let that drop," answered the other. + +"A quarter of an inch lower," said the girl, who was examining the +wound, "and Butch would have kissed the world good-bye." + +Not till then did the full horror of the thing dawn on Bard. The girl +was no more excited than one of her Eastern cousins would have been over +a game of bridge, and the man in the most matter-of-fact manner, was +slipping another cartridge into the cylinder of the revolver, which he +then restored to the holster. + +It still seemed incredible that the man could have drawn his gun and +fired it in that flash of time. He recalled his adventure with Butch +earlier that evening and with Sandy Ferguson before; for the first time +he realized what he had done and a cold horror possessed him like the +man who has nerves to walk the tight rope across the chasm and faints +when he looks back on the gorge from the safety of the other side. The +girl took command. + +"Steve, run down to the marshal's office; Deputy Glendin is there." + +She took the wet cloth and made a deft bandage for the head of Conklin. +With his shaggy hair covered, and all his face sagging with lines of +weariness, the gun-fighter seemed no more than a middle-aged man asleep, +worn out by trouble. + +"Is there a doctor?" asked Bard anxiously. + +"That ain't a case for a doctor--look here; you're in a blue faint. What +is the matter?" + +"I don't know; I'm thinking of that quarter of an inch which would have +meant the difference to poor Conklin." + +"'Poor' Conklin? Why, you fish, he was sneakin' in here to try his hand +on you. He found out he couldn't get his gang into town, so he slipped +in by himself. He'll get ten years for this--and a thousand if they hold +him up for the other things he's done." + +"I know--and this fellow Nash was as quiet as the strike of a snake. If +he'd been a fraction of a second slower I might be where Conklin is now. +I'll never forget Nash for this." + +She said pointedly: "No, he's a bad one to forget; keep an eye on him. +You spoke of a snake--that's how smooth Steve is." + +"Remember your own motto, Miss Fortune. He saved my life; therefore I +must trust him." + +She answered sullenly: "You're your own boss." + +"What's wrong with Nash?" + +"Find out for yourself." + +"Are all these fellows something other than they seem?" + +"What about yourself?" + +"How do you mean that?" + +"What trail are you on, Bard? Don't look so innocent. Oh, I seen you was +after something a long time ago." + +"I am. After excitement, you know." + +"Ain't you finding enough?" + +"I've got two things ahead of me." + +"Well?" + +"This trip, and when I come back I think making love to you would be +more exciting than gun-plays." + +They regarded each other with bantering smiles. + +"A tenderfoot like you make love to me? That would be exciting, all +right, if it wasn't so funny." + +"As for the competition," he said serenely, "that would be simply a good +background." + +"Hate yourself, don't you, Bard?" she grinned. + +"The rest of these boys are all very well, but they don't see that what +you want is the velvet touch." + +"What's that?" + +She was as frankly curious as some boy hearing a new game described. + +"You've only been loved in one way. These rough-handed fellows come in +and throw an arm around you and ask you to marry them; isn't that it? +What you really need, is an old, simple, but very effective method." + +Though her eyes were shining, she yawned. + +"It don't interest me, Bard." + +"On the contrary, you're getting quite excited." + +"So does a horse before it gets ready to buck." + +"Exactly. If I thought it would be easy I wouldn't be tempted." + +"Well, if you like fighting you've sure mapped out a nice sizeable +quarrel with me, Bud." + +"Good. I'm certainly coming back to Eldara. Now about this method of +mine--" + +"Throwing your cards on the table, eh? What you got, Bard, a royal +flush?" + +"Right again. It's a very simple method but you couldn't beat it." + +"Bud, you ain't half old enough to kid me." + +"What you need," he persisted calmly, "is someone who would sit down +and simply talk good, plain English to you." + +"Let 'er go." + +"In the first place I will call attention to your method of dressing." + +"Anything wrong with it?" + +"I knew you'd be interested." + +She slipped into a chair and sat cross-legged in it, her elbows on her +knees and her chin cupped in both her hands. + +"Sure I'm interested. If there's a new way fixin' ham-and, serve it +out." + +"I would begin," he went on judiciously, "by saying that you dressed in +five minutes in the dark." + +"It's generally dark at 5 a.m.," she admitted. + +"You look, on the whole, as if you'd fallen into your clothes." + +The wounded man stirred and groaned faintly. + +She called: "Lie down, Butch; I'm busy. Go on, Bard." + +"If you keep a mirror it's a wall decoration--not for personal use." + +"Maybe this is an old method, Bard; but around this place it'd be a +quick way of gettin' shot." + +"Angry?" + +"You'd peeve a mule." + +"This was only an introduction. The next thing is to sit close beside +you and shift the lamp so that the light would shine on your face; then +take your hand--" + +He suited his action to his word. + +"Let go my hand, Bard. It's like the rest of me--not a decoration but +for use." + +"Afraid of me, Sally?" + +"Not of a regiment like you." + +"Then of my method?" + +"Go on; I'm game." + +"But this is all there is to it." + +"What d'you mean?" + +"Just what I say. Having observed that you haven't set off any of your +advantages, I will sit here and look into your face in silence, which is +as much as to say that no matter how you dress you can't spoil a very +excellent figure, Sally. I suppose you've heard that before?" + +"Lots of times," she muttered. + +"But you wouldn't hear it from me. All I would do would be to sit and +stare and let you imagine what I'm thinking. And you'd begin to see that +in spite of the way you do your hair you can't spoil its colour nor its +texture." + +He raised his other hand and touched it. + +"Like silk, Sally." + +He studied her closely, noting the flush which began to touch her +cheeks. + +"Part of the game is for you to keep looking me in the eye." + +"Well, I'll be--Go on, I'm game." + +"Is it hard to sit like this--silently? Do I do it badly?" + +"No, you show lots of practice. How many have you tried this method on, +Bard?" + +He made a vague gesture and then, smiling: "Millions, Sally, and they +all liked it." + +"So do I." + +And they laughed together, and grew serious at the same instant. + +"All silence--like this?" she queried. + +"No; after a while I would say: 'You are beautiful.'" + +"You don't get a blue ribbon for that, Bard." + +"Not for the words, but the way they're said, which shows I mean them." + +She blinked as though to clear her eyes and then met his stare again. + +"You know you are beautiful, Sally." + +"With a pug nose--freckles--and all that?" + +"Just a tip-tilt in the nose, Sally. Why, it's charming. And you have +everything else--young, strong, graceful, clear." + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"Clear? Fresh and colourful like the sunset over the desert. Do you +understand?" + +Her eyes went down to consider. + +"I s'pose I do." + +"With a touch of awe in it, because the silence and the night are +coming, and the stars walk down, one by one--one by one. And the wind is +low, soft, musical, whispering, as you do now--What if this were not a +game of suppose, Sally?" + +She wrenched herself suddenly away, rising. + +"I'm tired of supposing!" she cried. + +"Then we'll call it all real. What of that?" + +That colour was unmistakably high now; it ran down from her cheeks and +even stained the pure white of the throat where the flap of the shirt +was open. He was excited as a hunter who has tracked some new and +dangerous animal and at last driven it to bay, holding his gun poised, +and not knowing whether or not it will prove vulnerable. + +He stepped close, eager, prepared for any wild burst of temper; but she +let him take her hands, let him draw her close, bend back her head; hold +her closer still, till the warmth and softness of her body reached him, +but when his lips came close she said quietly: "Are you a rotter, +Bard?" + +He stiffened and the smile went out on his lips. He stepped back. + +She repeated: "Are you a rotter?" + +He raised the one hand which he still retained and touched it to his +lips. + +"I am very sorry," said Anthony, "will you forgive me?" + +And with her eyes large and grave upon him she answered: "I wonder if I +can!" + +Butch Conklin looked up, raising his bandaged head slowly, like a white +flag of truce, with a stain of red growing through the cloth. He stared +at the two, raised a hand to his head as though to rub away the dream, +found a pain too real for a dream, and then, like a crab which has grown +almost too old to walk, waddled on hands and knees, slowly, from the +room and melted silently into the dark beyond. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +FOOLISH HABITS + +A sharp noise of running feet leaped from the dust of the street and +clattered through the doorway; the two turned. A swarthy man, broad of +shoulder, was the first, and afterward appeared Nash. + +"Conklin?" called Deputy Glendin, and swept the room with his startled +glance. "Where's Conklin?" + +He was not there; only a red stain remained on the floor to show where +he had lain. + +"Where's Conklin?" called Nash. + +"I'm afraid," whispered Bard quickly to the girl, "that it was more than +a game of suppose." + +He said easily to the other two: "He had enough. His share of trouble +came to-night; I let him go." + +"Young feller," growled Glendin, "you ain't been in town a long while, +but I've heard a pile too much about you already. What you mean by +takin' the law into your own hands?" + +"Wait," said Nash, his keen eyes on the two, "I guess I understand." + +"Let's have it, then." + +Still the steady eyes of Nash passed from Sally Fortune to Bard and back +again. + +"This feller bein' a tenderfoot, he don't understand our ways; maybe he +thinks the range is a bit freer than it is." + +"That's the trouble," answered Glendin, "he thinks too damned much." + +"And does quite a pile besides thinkin'," murmured Nash, but too low for +the others to hear it. + +He hesitated, and then, as if making up his mind by a great effort: +"There ain't no use blamin' him; better let it drop, Glendin." + +"Nothin' else to do, Steve; but it's funny Sally let him do it." + +"It is," said Nash with emphasis, "but then women is pretty funny in +lots of ways. Ready to start, Bard?" + +"All ready." + +"S'long, Sally." + +"Good-night, Miss Fortune." + +"Evenin', boys. We'll be lookin' for you back in Eldara to-morrow night, +Bard." + +And her eyes fixed with meaning on Nash. + +"Certainly," answered the other, "my business ought not to take longer +than that." + +"I'll take him by the shortest cut," said Nash, and the two went out to +their horses. + +They had difficulty in riding the trail side by side, for though the +roan was somewhat rested by the delay at Eldara it was impossible to +keep him up with Bard's prancing piebald, which sidestepped at every +shadow. Yet the tenderfoot never allowed his mount to pass entirely +ahead of the roan, but kept checking him back hard, turning toward Nash +with an apology each time he surged ahead. It might have been merely +that he did not wish to precede the cowpuncher on a trail which he did +not know. It might have been something quite other than this which made +him consistently keep to the rear; Nash felt certain that the second +possibility was the truth. + +In that case his work would be doubly hard. From all that he had seen +the man was dangerous--the image of the tame puma returned to him again +and again. He could not see him plainly through the dark of the night, +but he caught the sway of the body and recognized a perfect +horsemanship, not a Western style of riding, but a good one no matter +where it was learned. He rode as if he were sewed to the back of the +horse, and, as old William Drew had suggested, he probably did other +things up to the same standard. It would have been hard to fulfil his +promise to Drew under any circumstances with such a man as this; but +with Bard apparently forewarned and suspicious the thing became almost +impossible. + +Almost, but not entirely so. He set himself calmly to the problem; on +the horn of his saddle the lariat hung loose; if the Easterner should +turn his back for a single instant during all the time they were +together old Drew should not be disappointed, and one thousand cash +would be deposited for the mutual interest of Sally Fortune and himself. +That is to say, if Sally would consent to become interested. To the +silent persuasion of money, however, Nash trusted many things. + +The roan jogged sullenly ahead, giving all the strength of his gallant, +ugly body to the work; the piebald mustang pranced like a dancing master +beside and behind with a continual jingling of the tossed bridle. + +The masters were to a degree like the horses they rode, for Nash kept +steadily leaning to the front, his bulldog jaw thrusting out; and Bard +was forever shifting in the saddle, settling his hat, humming a tune, +whistling, talking to the piebald, or asking idle questions of the +things they passed, like a boy starting out for a vacation. So they +reached the old house of which Nash had spoken--a mere, shapeless, black +heap huddling through the night. + +In the shed to the rear they tied the horses and unsaddled. In the +single room of the shanty, afterward, Nash lighted a candle, which he +produced from his pack, placed it in the centre of the floor, and they +unrolled their blankets on the two bunks which were built against the +wall on either side of the narrow apartment. + +Truly it was a crazy shack--such a building as two men, having the +materials at hand, might put together in a single day. It was hardly +based on a foundation, but rather set on the slope side of the hill, and +accordingly had settled down on the lower side toward the door. Not an +old place, but the wind had pried and the rain warped generous cracks +between the boards through which the rising storm whistled and sang and +through which the chill mist of the coming rain cut at them. + +Now and then a feeling came to Anthony that the gale might lift the +tottering old shack and roll it on down the hillside to the floor of the +valley, for it rocked and swayed under the breath of the storm. In a way +it was as if the night was giving a loud voice to the silent struggle of +the two men, who continued pleasant, careless with each other. + +But when Nash stepped across the room behind Bard, the latter turned and +was busy with the folding of his blankets at the foot of his bunk, his +face toward the cowpuncher and when Bard, slipping off his belt, fumbled +at his holster, Nash was instantly busy with the cleaning of his own +gun. + +The cattleman, having removed his boots, his hat, and his belt, was +ready for bed, and slipped his legs under the blankets. He stooped and +picked up his lariat, which lay coiled on the floor beside him. + +"People gets into foolish habits on the range," he said, thumbing the +strong rope curiously, and so doing, spreading out the noose. + +"Yes?" smiled Bard, and he also sat up in his bunk. + +"It's like a kid. Give him a new toy and he wants to take it to bed with +him. Ever notice?" + +"Surely." + +"That's the way with me. When I go to bed nothin' matters with me except +that I have my lariat around. I generally like to have it hangin' on a +nail at the head of my bunk. The fellers always laugh at me, but I can't +help it; makes me feel more at home." + +And with that, still smiling at his own folly in a rather shamefaced +way, he turned in the blankets and dropped the big coil of the lariat +over a nail which projected from the boards just over the head of his +bunk. The noose was outermost and could be disengaged from the nail by a +single twist of the cowpuncher's hand as he lay passive in the bunk. + +On this noose Bard cast a curious eye. To cityfolk a piece of rope is a +harmless thing with which one may make a trunk secure or on occasion +construct a clothes line on the roof of the apartment building, or in +the kitchen on rainy Mondays. + +To a sailor the rope is nothing and everything at once. Give a seaman +even a piece of string and he will amuse himself all evening making +lashings and knots. A piece of rope calls up in his mind the stout lines +which hold the masts steady and the yards true in the gale, the +comfortable cable which moors the ship at the end of the dreary voyage, +and a thousand things between. + +To the Westerner a rope is a different thing. It is not so much a useful +material as a weapon. An Italian, fighting man to man, would choose a +knife; a Westerner would take in preference that same harmless piece of +rope. In his hands it takes on life, it gains a strange and sinister +quality. One instant it lies passive, or slowly whirled in a careless +circle--the next its noose darts out like the head of a striking cobra, +the coil falls and fastens, and then it draws tighter and tighter, +remorselessly as a boa constrictor, paralyzing life. + +Something of all this went through the mind of Bard as he lay watching +the limp noose of the cowboy's lariat, and then he nodded smiling. + +"I suppose that seems an odd habit to some men, but I sympathize with +it. I have it myself, in fact. And whenever I'm out in the wilds and +carry a gun I like to have it under my head when I sleep. That's even +queerer than your fancy, isn't it?" + +And he slipped his revolver under the blankets at the head of his bunk. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +THE CANDLE + +"Yes," said Nash, "that's a queer stunt, because when you're lyin' like +that with your head right over the gun and the blankets in between, it'd +take you a couple of seconds to get it out." + +"Not when you're used to it. You'd be surprised to see how quickly a man +can get the gun out from under." + +"That so?" + +"Yes, and shooting while you're lying on your back is pretty easy, too, +when you've had practice." + +"Sure, with a rifle, but not with a revolver." + +"Well, do you see that bit of paper in the corner there up on the +rafter?" + +"Yes." + +The hand of Bard whipped under his head, there was a gleam and whirl of +steel, an explosion, and the bit of paper came fluttering slowly down +from the rafter, like a wounded bird struggling to keep upon the air. A +draft caught the paper just before it landed and whirled it through the +doorless entrance and out into the night. + +He was yawning as he restored the gun beneath the blanket, but from the +corner of his eye he saw the hardening of Nash's face, a brief change +which came and went like the passing of a shadow. + +"That's something I'll remember," drawled the cowpuncher. + +"You ought to," answered the other quickly, "it comes in handy now and +then." + +"Feel sleepy?" + +The candle guttered and flickered on the floor midway between the two +bunks, and Bard, glancing to it, was about to move from his bed and +snuff it; but at the thought of so doing it seemed to him as if he could +almost sense with prophetic mind the upward dart of the noose about his +shoulders. He edged a little lower in the blankets. + +"Not a bit. How about you?" + +"Me? I most generally lie awake a while and gab after I hit the hay. +Makes me sleep better afterward." + +"I do the same thing when I've any one who listens to me--or talks to +me." + +"Queer how many habits we got the same, eh?" + +"It is. But after all, most of us are more alike than we care to +imagine." + +"Yes, there ain't much difference; sometimes the difference ain't as +much as a split-second watch would catch, but it may mean that one +feller passes out and the other goes on." + +They lay half facing each other, each with his head pillowed on an arm. + +"By Jove! lucky we reached this shelter before the rain came." + +"Yep. A couple of hours of this and the rivers will be up--may take up +all day to get back to the ranch if we have to ride up to the ford on +the Saverack." + +"Then we'll swim 'em." + +The other smiled drily. + +"Swim the Saverack when she's up? No, lad, we won't do that." + +"Then I'll have to work it alone, I suppose. You see, I have that date +in Eldara for tomorrow night." + +Nash set his teeth, to choke back the cough. He produced papers and +tobacco, rolled a cigarette with lightning speed, lighted it, and +inhaled a long puff. + +"Sure, you ought to keep that date, but maybe Sally would wait till the +night after." + +"She impressed me, on the whole, as not being of the waiting kind." + +"H-m! A little delay does 'em good; gives 'em a chance to think." + +"Why, every man has his own way with women, I suppose, but my idea is, +keep them busy--never give them a chance to think. If you do, they +generally waste the chance and forget you altogether." + +Another coughing spell overtook Nash and left him frowning down at the +glowing end of his butt. + +"She ain't like the rest." + +"I wonder?" mused the Easterner. + +He had an infinite advantage in this duel of words, for he could watch +from under the shadow of his long, dark lashes the effect of his +speeches on the cowboy, yet never seem to be looking. For he was +wondering whether the enmity of Nash, which he felt as one feels an +unknown eye upon him in the dark, came from their rivalry about the +girl, or from some deeper cause. He was inclined to think that the girl +was the bottom of everything, but he left his mind open on the subject. + +And Nash, pondering darkly and silently, measured the strength of the +slender stranger and felt that if he were the club the other was the +knife which made less sound but might prove more deadly. Above all he +was conscious of the Easterner's superiority of language, which might +turn the balance against him in the ear of Sally Fortune. He dropped +the subject of the girl. + +"You was huntin' over on the old place on the other side of the range?" + +"Yes." + +"Pretty fair run of game?" + +"Rather." + +"I think you said something about Logan?" + +"Did I? I've been thinking a good deal about him. He gave me the wrong +tip about the way to Eldara. When I get back to the old place--" + +"Well?" + +The other smiled unpleasantly and made a gesture as if he were snapping +a twig between his hands. + +"I'll break him in two." + +The eyes of Nash grew wide with astonishment; he was remembering that +same phrase on the lips of the big, grey man, Drew. + +He murmured: "That may give you a little trouble. Logan's a peaceable +chap, but he has his record before he got down as low as sheepherdin'." + +"I like trouble--now and then." + +A pause. + +"Odd old shack over there." + +"Drew's old house?" + +"Yes. There's a grave in front of it." + +"And there's quite a yarn inside the grave." + +The cowpuncher was aware that the other stirred--not much, but as if he +winced from a drop of cold water; he felt that he was close on the trail +of the real reason why the Easterner wished to see Drew. + +"A story about Drew's wife?" + +"You read the writing on the headstone, eh?" + +"'Joan, she chose this place for rest,'" quoted Bard. + +"That was all before my time; it was before the time of any others in +these parts, but a few of the grey-beards know a bit about the story and +I've gathered a little of it from Drew, though he ain't much of a +talker." + +"I'd like to hear it." + +Sensitively aware of Bard, as a photographic plate is aware of light on +exposures, the cowpuncher went on with the tale. + +And Bard, his glance probing among the shadowy rafters of the room, +seemed to be searching there for the secret on whose trail he rode. +Through the interims the rain crashed and volleyed on the roof above +them; the cold spray whipped down on them through the cracks; the wind +shook and rattled the crazy house; and the drawling voice of Nash went +on and on. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +JOAN + +"Them were the days when this was a man's country, which a man could +climb on his hoss with a gun and a rope and touch heaven and hell in one +day's ridin'. Them good old days ain't no more. I've heard the old man +tell about 'em. Now they've got everybody stamped and branded with law +an' order, herded together like cattle, ticketed, done for. That's the +way the range is now. The marshals have us by the throat. In the old +days a sheriff that outlived his term was probably crooked and runnin' +hand in hand with the long-riders." + +"Long-riders?" queried Bard. + +"Fellers that got tired of workin' and took to ridin' for their livin'. +Mostly they worked in little gangs of five and six. They was called +long-riders, I guess, partly because they was in the saddle all the +time, and partly because they done their jobs so far apart. They'd ride +into Eldara and blow up the safe in the bank one day, for instance, and +five days later they'd be two hundred and fifty miles away stoppin' a +train at Lewis Station. + +"They never hung around no one part of the country and that made it hard +as hell to run 'em down--that and because they had the best hosses that +money could buy. They had friends, too, strung out all over--squatters +and the like of that. They'd drop in on these little fellers and pass +'em a couple of twenties and make themselves solid for life. Afterward +they used 'em for stoppin' places. + +"They'd pull off a couple of hold-ups, then they'd ride off to one of +these squatter places and lay up for ten days, maybe, drinkin' and +feedin' up themselves and their hosses. That was the only way they was +ever caught. They was killed off by each other, fighting about the +split-up, or something like that. + +"But now and then a gang held together long enough to raise so much hell +that they got known from one end of the range to the other. Mostly they +held together because they had a leader who knew how to handle 'em and +who kept 'em under his thumb. That was the way with old Piotto. + +"He had five men under him. They was all hell-benders who had ridden the +range alone and had their share of fights and killings, which there +wasn't one of 'em that wouldn't have been good enough to go leader in +any other crew, but they had to knuckle under to old Piotto. He was a +great gunman and he was pretty good in scheming up ways of dodging the +law and picking the best booty. He had these five men, and then he had +his daughter, Joan. She was better'n two ordinary men herself. + +"Three years that gang held together and got rich--fair rich. They made +it so fast they couldn't even gamble the stuff away. About a thousand +times, I guess posses went out after Piotto, but they never came back +with a trace of 'em; they never got within shootin' distance. Finally +Piotto got so confident that he started raidin' ranches and carryin' off +members of well-off ranchers to hold for ransom. That was the easiest +way of makin' money; it was also pretty damned dangerous. + +"One time they held up a stage and picked off of it two kids who was +comin' out from the East to try their hands in the cattle business. They +was young, they looked like gentlemen, they was dressed nifty, and they +packed big rolls. So wise old Piotto took 'em off into the hills and +held 'em till their folks back East could wire out the money to save +'em. That was easy money for Piotto, but that was the beginnin' of the +end for him; because while they was waitin', them two kids seen Joan and +seen her good. + +"I been telling you she was better'n two common men. She was. Which +means she was equal to about ten ordinary girls. There's still a legend +about how beautiful Joan Piotto was--tall and straight and big black +eyes and terrible handy with her gun. She could ride anything that +walked and she didn't know what fear meant. + +"These two kids seen her. One of 'em was William Drew; one of 'em was +John Bard." + +He turned to Anthony and saw that the latter was stern of face. He had +surely scored his point. + +"Same name as yours, eh?" he asked, to explain his turning. + +"It's a common enough name," murmured Bard. + +"Well, them two had come out to be partners, and there they was, fallin' +in love with the same girl. So when they got free they put their heads +together--bein' uncommon wise kids--and figured it out this way. Neither +of 'em had a chance workin' alone to get Joan way from her father's +gang, but workin' together they might have a ghost of a show. So they +decided to stay on the trail of Piotto till they got Joan. Then they'd +give her a choice between the two of 'em and the one that lost would +simply back off the boards. + +"They done what they agreed. For six months they stuck on the trail of +old Piotto and never got in hailin' distance of him. Then they come on +the gang while they were restin' up in the house of a squatter. + +"That was a pretty night. Drew and Bard went through that gang. It +sounds like a nice fairy-story, all right, but I know old fellers who'll +swear it's true. They killed three of the men with their guns; they +knifed another one, an' they killed Riley with their bare hands. It +wasn't no pretty sight to see--the inside of that house. And last of all +they got Piotto, fightin' like an old wildcat, into a corner with his +daughter; and William Drew, he took Piotto into his arms and busted his +back. That don't sound possible, but when you see Drew you'll know how +it was done. + +"The girl, she'd been knocked cold before this happened. So while Bard +and Drew sat together bindin' up each other's wounds--because they was +shot pretty near to pieces--they talked it over and they seen pretty +clear that the girl would never marry the man that had killed her +father. Of course, old Bill Drew, he'd done the killing, but that wasn't +any reason why he had to take the blame. + +"They made up their minds that right there and then with the dead men +lyin' all around 'em, they'd match coins to see which one would take the +blame of havin' killed Piotto--meanin' that the other one would get the +girl--if he could. + +"And Bard lost. So he had to take the credit of havin' killed old +Piotto. I'd of give something to have seen the two of 'em sittin' +there--oozin' blood--after that marchin' was decided. Because they tell +me that Bard was as big as Drew and looked pretty much the same. + +"Then Bard, he asked Drew to let him have one chance at the girl, +lettin' her know first what he'd done, but jest trustin' to his power of +talk. Which, of course, didn't give him no show. While he was makin' +love to the girl she outs with a knife and tries to stick him--nice, +pleasant sort she must have been--and Drew, he had to pry the two of 'em +apart. + +"That made the girl look sort of kind on Drew and she swore that sooner +or later she'd have the blood of Bard for what he'd done--either have it +herself or else send someone after him to the end of the world. She was +a wild one, all right. + +"She was so wild that Drew, after they got married, took her over on the +far side of the range and built that old house that's rottin' there +now. Bard, he left the range and wasn't never seen again, far as I +know." + +It was clear to Anthony, bitterly clear. His father had had a grim scene +in parting with Drew and had placed the continent between them. And in +the Eastern states he had met that black-eyed girl, his mother, and +loved her because she was so much like the wild daughter of Piotto. The +girl Joan in dying had probably extracted from Drew a promise that he +would kill Bard, and that promise he had lived to fulfil. + +"So Joan died?" he queried. + +"Yep, and was buried under them two trees in front of the house. I don't +think she lived long after they was married, but about that nobody +knows. They was clear off by themselves and there isn't any one can tell +about their life after they was married. All we know is that Drew didn't +get over her dyin'. He ain't over it yet, and goes out to the old place +every month or so to potter around the grave and keep the grass and the +weeds off of it and clean the head-stone." + +The candle guttered wildly on the floor. It had burnt almost to the wood +and now the remnant of the wick stood in a little sprawling pool of +grease white at the outer edges. + +Bard yawned, and patted idly the blanket where it touched on the shape +of the revolver beneath. In another moment that candle would gutter out +and they would be left in darkness. + +He said: "That's the best yarn I've heard in a good many days; it's +enough to make any one sleepy--so here goes." + +And he turned deliberately on his side. + +Nash, his eyes staring with incredulity, sat up slowly among his +blankets and his hand stole up toward the noose of the lariat. A light +snore reached him, hardly a snore so much as the heavy intake of breath +of a very weary, sleeping man; yet the hand of Nash froze on the lariat. + +"By God," he whispered faintly to himself, "he ain't asleep!" + +And the candle flared wildly, leaped, and shook out. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +THE SWIMMING OF THE SAVERACK + +Over the face of Nash the darkness passed like a cold hand and a colder +sense of failure touched his heart; but men who have ridden the range +have one great power surpassing all others--the power of patience. As +soundlessly as he had pushed himself up the moment before, he now +slipped down in the blankets and resigned himself to sleep. + +He knew that he would wake at the first hint of grey light and trusted +that after the long ride of the day before his companion would still be +fast asleep. That half light would be enough for his work; but when he +roused while the room was still scarcely more visible than if it were +filled with a grey fog, he found Bard already up and pulling on his +boots. + +"How'd you sleep?" he growled, following the example of the tenderfoot. + +"Not very well," said the other cheerily. "You see, that story of yours +was so vivid in my mind that I stayed awake about all night, I guess, +thinking it over." + +"I knew it," murmured Nash to himself. "He was awake all the time. And +still-----" + +If that thrown noose of the lariat had settled over the head and +shoulders of the sham sleeper it would have made no difference whether +he waked or slept--in the end he would have sat before William Drew tied +hand and foot. If that noose had not settled? The picture of the little +piece of paper fluttering to the floor came back with a strange +vividness to the mind of Nash, and he had to shrug his shoulders to +shake the thought away. + +They were in the saddle a very few moments after they awoke and started +out, breakfastless. The rain long ago had ceased, and there was only the +solemn silence of the brown hills around them--silence, and a faint, +crinkling sound as if the thirsty soil still drank. It had been a heavy +fall of rain, they could see, for whenever they passed a bare spot where +no grass grew, it was crossed by a thick tracery of the rivulets which +had washed down the slopes during the night. + +Soon they reached a little creek whose current, barely knee deep, foamed +up around the shoulders of the horses and set them staggering. + +"The Saverack will be hell," said Nash, "and we'd better cut straight +for the ford." + +"How long will it take?" + +"Add about three hours to the trip." + +"Can't do it; remember that little date back in Eldara to-night." + +"Then look for yourself and make up your mind for yourself," said Nash +drily, for they topped a hill, and below them saw a mighty yellow flood +pouring down the valley. It went leaping and shouting as if it rejoiced +in some destruction it had worked and was still working, and the muddy +torrent was threaded with many a ridge of white and swirling with +bubbles. + +"The Saverack," said Nash. "Now what d'you think about fording it?" + +"If we can't ford it, we can swim it," declared Bard. "Look at that +tree-trunk. If that will float I will float, and if I can float I can +swim, and if I can swim I'll reach the other bank of that little creek. +Won't we, boy?" + +And he slapped the proud neck of the mustang. + +"Swim it?" said Nash incredulously. "Does that date mean as much as that +to you?" + +"It isn't the date; it's the promise I gave," answered the other, +watching the current with a cool eye, "besides, when I was a youngster +I used to do things like this for the sport of it." + +They rode down to the edge of the stream. + +"How about it, Nash, will you take the chance with me?" + +And the other, looking down: "Try the current, I'll stay here on the +shore and if it gets too strong for you I'll throw out a rope, eh? But +if you can make it, I'll follow suit." + +The other cast a somewhat wistful eye of doubt upon the cowpuncher. + +"How far is it to the ford?" he asked. + +"About eight miles," answered Nash, doubling the distance on the spot. + +"Eight miles?" repeated the other ruefully. "Too far. Then here goes, +Nash." + +Still never turning his back on the cowpuncher, who was now uncoiling +his lariat and preparing it for a cast, Bard edged the piebald into the +current. He felt the mustang stagger as the water came knee-deep, and he +checked the horse, casting his eye from shore to shore and summing up +the chances. + +If it had been simply water against which he had to contend, he would +not have hesitated, but here and there along the course sharp pointed +rocks and broad-backed boulders loomed, and now and then, with a mighty +splashing and crashing one of these was overbalanced by the force of the +current and rolled another step toward the far-off sea. + +That rush of water would carry him far downstream and the chances were +hardly more than even that he would not strike against one of these +murderous obstructions about which the current foamed. + +An impulse made him turn and wave a hand to Nash. + +He shouted: "Give me luck?" + +"Luck?" roared the cowboy, and his voice came as if faint with distance +over the thunder of the stream. + +He touched the piebald with the spurs, and the gallant little horse +floundered forward, lost footing and struck into water beyond its depth. +At the same instant Bard swung clear of the saddle and let his body +trail out behind, holding with his left hand to the tail of the +struggling horse and kicking to aid the progress. + +Immersed to the chin, and sometimes covered by a more violent wave, the +sound of the river grew at once strangely dim, but he felt the force of +the current tugging at him like a thousand invisible hands. He began to +wish that he had taken off his boots before entering, for they weighted +his feet so that it made him leg-weary to kick. Nevertheless he trusted +in the brave heart of the mustang. There was no wavering in the wild +horse. Only his head showed over the water, but the ears were pricking +straight and high, and it never once swerved back toward the nearer +shore. + +Their progress at first was good, but as they neared the central portion +of the water they were swept many yards downstream for one that they +made in a transverse direction. Twice they missed projecting rocks by +the narrowest margin, and then something like an exceedingly thin and +exceedingly strong arm caught Anthony around the shoulders. It tugged +back, stopped all their forward progress, and let them sweep rapidly +down the stream and back toward the shore. + +Turning his head he caught a glimpse of Nash sitting calmly in his +saddle, holding the rope in both hands--and laughing. The next instant +he saw no more, for the current placed a taller rock between him and the +bank. On that rock the line of the lariat caught, hooking the swimmers +sharply in toward the bank. He would have cut the rope, but it would be +almost impossible to get out a knife and open a blade with his teeth, +still clinging to the tail of the swimming horse with one hand. He +reached down through the water, pulled out the colt, and with an effort +swung himself about. Close at hand he could not reach the rope, and +therefore he fired not directly at the rope itself, but at the edge of +the rock around which the lariat bent at a sharp angle. The splash of +that bullet from the strong face of the rock sliced the rope like a +knife. It snapped free, and the brave little mustang straightened out +again for the far shore. + +An instant more Bard swam with the revolver poised above the water, but +he caught no glimpse of Nash; so he restored it with some difficulty to +the holster, and gave all his attention and strength to helping the +horse through the water, swimming with one hand and kicking vigorously +with his feet. + +Perhaps they would not have made it, for now through exhaustion the ears +of the mustang were drooping back. He shouted, and at the faint sound of +his cheer the piebald pricked a single weary ear. He shouted again, and +this time not for encouragement, but from exultation; a swerving current +had caught them and was bearing them swiftly toward the desired bank. + +It failed them when they were almost touching bottom and swung sharply +out toward the centre again, but the mustang, as though it realized +that this was the last chance, fought furiously. Anthony gave the rest +of his strength, and they edged through, inch by inch, and horse and man +staggered up the bank and stood trembling with fatigue. + +Glancing back, he saw Nash in the act of throwing his lariat to the +ground, wild with anger, and before he could understand the meaning of +this burst of temper over a mere spoiled lariat, the gun whipped from +the side of the cowboy, exploded, and the little piebald, with ears +pricked sharply forward as though in vague curiosity, crumpled to the +ground. The suddenness of it took all power of action from Bard for the +instant. He stood staring stupidly down at the dying horse and then +whirled, gun in hand, frantic with anger and grief. + +Nash was galloping furiously up the far bank of the Saverack, already +safely out of range, and speeding toward the ford. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +DREW SMILES + +When the cattleman felt the rope snap back to his hand he could not +realize at first just what had happened. The crack of the gun had been +no louder than the snapping of a twig in that storming of the river, and +the only explanation he could find was that the rope had struck some +superlatively sharp edge of the rock and been sawed in two. But +examining the cut end he found it severed as cleanly as if a knife had +slashed across it, and then it was he knew and threw the lariat to the +ground. + +When he saw Bard scramble up the opposite bank he knew that his game was +lost and all the tables reversed, for the Easterner was a full two hours +closer to the home of Drew than he was, with the necessary detour up to +the ford. The Easterner might be delayed by the unknown country for a +time, but not very long. He was sure to meet someone who would point the +way. It was then that Nash drew his gun and shot down the piebald +mustang. + +The next instant he was racing straight up the river toward the ford. +The roan was not spared this day, for there were many chances that Bard +might secure a fresh mount to speed him on the way to the Drew ranch, +and now it was all important that the big grey man be warned; for there +was a danger in that meeting, as Nash was beginning to feel. + +By noon he reached the house and went straight to the owner, a desperate +figure, spattered with mud to the eyes, a three days' growth of whiskers +blackening his face, and that face gaunt with the long, hard riding. He +found the imperturbable Drew deep in a book in his office. While he was +drawing breath, the rancher examined him with a faint smile. + +"I thought this would be the end of it," he announced. + +"The devil and all hell plays on the side of Bard," answered the +foreman. "I had him safe--almost tied hand and foot. He got away." + +"Got away?" + +"Shot the rope in two." + +The other placed a book-mark, closed the volume, and looked up with the +utmost serenity. + +"Try again," he said quietly. "Take half a dozen men with you, surprise +him in the night----" + +"Surprise a wolf," growled Nash. "It's just the same." + +The shaggy eyebrows stirred. + +"How far is he away?" + +"Two or three miles--maybe half a dozen--I don't know. He'll be here +before night." + +The big man changed colour and gripped the edge of the desk. Nash had +never dreamed that it would be possible to so stir him. + +"Coming here?" + +"Yes." + +"Nash--you infernal fool! Did you let him know where you were taking +him?" + +"No. He was already on the way here." + +Once more Drew winced. He rose now and strode across the room and back; +from the wall the heavy echo of his footfall came sharply back. And he +paused in front of Nash, looming above his foreman like some primitive +monster, or as the Grecian heroes loomed above the rank and file at the +siege of Troy. He was like a relic of some earlier period when bigger +men were needed for a greater physical labour. + +"What does he want?" + +"I don't know. Says he wants to ask for the right of hunting on your +old place on the other side of the range. Which I'd tell a man it's jest +a lie. He knows he can hunt there if he wants to." + +"Does he know me?" + +"Just your name." + +"Did he ask many questions about me?" + +"Wanted to know what you looked like." + +"And you told him?" + +"A lot of things. Said you were big and grey. And I told him that story +about you and John Bard." + +Drew slumped into a chair and ground the knuckles of his right hand +across his forehead. The white marks remained as he looked up again. + +"What was that?" + +"Why, how you happened to marry Joan Piotto and how Bard left the +country." + +"That was all?" + +"Is there any more, sir?" + +The other stared into the distance, overlooking the question. + +"Tell me what you've found out about him." + +"I been after him these three days. Logan tipped him wrong, and he +started the south trail for Eldara. I got on his trail three times and +couldn't catch him till we hit Eldara." + +"I thought your roan was the most durable horse on the range, Steve. +You've often told me so." + +"He is." + +"But you couldn't catch--Bard?" + +"He was on a faster horse than mine--for a while." + +"Well? Isn't he now?' + +"I killed the horse." + +"You showed your hand, then? He knows you were sent after him?" + +"No, he thinks it's because of a woman." + +"Is he tangling himself up with some girl?" frowned the rancher. + +"He's cutting in on me with Sally Fortune--damn his heart!" + +And Nash paled visibly, even through whiskers and mud. The other almost +smiled. + +"So soon, Nash?" + +"With hosses and women, he don't lose no time." + +"What's he done?" + +"The first trace I caught of him was at a shack of an old ranchhouse +where he'd traded his lame hoss in. They gave him the wildest mustang +they had--a hoss that was saddle-shy and that hadn't never been ridden. +He busted that hoss in--a little piebald mustang, tougher 'n iron--and +that was why I didn't catch him till we hit Eldara." + +The smile was growing more palpable on the face of Drew, and he nodded +for the story to continue. + +"Then I come to a house which was all busted up because Bard had come +along and flirted with the girl, and she's got too proud for the feller +she was engaged to--begun thinkin' of millionaires right away, I s'pose. + +"Next I tracked him to Flanders's saloon, where he'd showed up Sandy +Ferguson the day before and licked him bad. I seen Ferguson. It was sure +some lickin'." + +"Ferguson? The gun-fighter? The two-gun man?" + +"Him." + +"Ah-h-h!" drawled the big man. + +The colour was back in his face. He seemed to be enjoying the recountal +hugely. + +"Then I hit Eldara and found all the lights out." + +"Because of Bard?" + +"H-m! He'd had a run-in with Butch Conklin, and Butch threatened to come +back with all his gang and wipe Eldara off the map. He stuck around and +while he was waitin' for Butch and his gang, he started flirtin' with +Sally--Fortune." + +The name seemed to stick in his throat and he had to bring it out with a +grimace. "So now you want his blood, Nash?" + +"I'll have it," said the cowpuncher quietly, "I've got gambler's luck. +In the end I'm sure to win." + +"You're not going to win here, Nash." + +"No?" queried the younger man, with a dangerous intonation. + +"No. I know the blood behind that chap. You won't win here. Blood will +out." + +He smote his great fist on the desk-top and his laugh was a thunder +which reverberated through the room. + +"Blood will out? The blood of John Bard?" asked Nash. + +Drew started. + +"Who said John Bard?" + +He grew grey again, the flush dying swiftly. He started to his feet and +repeated in a great voice, sweeping the room with a wild glance: "Who +said John Bard?" + +"I thought maybe this was his son," answered Nash. + +"You're a fool! Does he look like John Bard? No, there's only one person +in the world he looks like." + +He strode again up and down the room, repeating in a deep monotone: +"John Bard!" + +Coming to a sharp halt he said: "I don't want the rest of your story. +The point is that the boy will be here within--an hour--two hours. We've +got work to do before that time." + +"Listen to me," answered the foreman, "don't let him get inside this +house. I'd rather take part of hell into a house of mine. Besides, if he +sees me--" + +"He's coming here, but he's not going to see either of us--my mind is +made up--neither of us until I have him helpless." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +THE COMEDY SETTING + +"Dead, you mean," broke in Nash, "because otherwise he'll never be +helpless." + +"I tell you, Nash," said the other solemnly, "I can make him helpless +with one minute of talk. My problem is to keep that wild devil harmless +while he listens to me talk. Another thing--if he ever sees me, nothing +_but_ death will stop him from coming at my throat." + +"Speakin' personal," said the other coldly, "I never take no chances on +fellers that might come at my throat." + +"I know; you're for the quick draw and the quick finish. But I'd rather +die myself than have a hair of his head hurt. I mean that!" + +Nash, his thoughts spinning, stood staring blankly. + +"I give up tryin' to figure it out; but if he's comin' here and you want +to keep him safe I'd better take a fresh hoss and get twenty miles away +before night." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind; you'll stay here with me." + +"And face him without a gun?" asked the other incredulously. + +"Leave gun talk out of this. I think one of the boys looks a little like +me. Lawlor--isn't that his name?" + +"Him? Yes; a little bit like you--but he's got his thickness through the +stomach and not through the chest." + +"Never mind. He's big, and he's grey. Send for him, and get the rest of +the boys in here. They're around now for noon. Get _every_ one. +Understand? And make it fast." + +In ten minutes they came to the office in a troop--rough men, smooth +men, little and big, fat and thin, but good cattlemen, every one. + +"Boys," said Drew, "a tenderfoot is coming to the ranch to-day. I'm +going to play a few jokes on him. First of all, I want you to know that +until the stranger leaves the house, Lawlor is going to take my place. +He is going to be Drew. Understand?" + +"Lawlor?" broke out several of them, and turned in surprise to a big, +cheerful man--grey, plump, with monstrous white whiskers. + +"Because he looks a bit like me. First, you'll have to crop those +whiskers, Lawlor." + +He clutched at the threatened whiskers with both hands. + +"Crop 'em? Chief, you ain't maybe runnin' me a bit?" + +"Not a bit," said Drew, smiling faintly. "I'll make it worth your +while." + +"It took me thirty years to raise them whiskers," said the cattleman, +stern with rebuke. "D'you think I could be _hired_ to give 'em up? It's +like givin' up some of myself." + +"Let them go, then. You can play the part, whiskers and all. The rest of +you remember that Lawlor is the boss." + +"And brand that deep," growled Lawlor, looking about with a frown. + +He had already stepped into his part; the others laughed loudly. + +"Steady there!" called Drew. "Lawlor starts as boss right now. Cut out +the laughing. I'll tell the rest of you what you're to do later on. In +the meantime just step out and I'll have a talk with Lawlor on his part. +We haven't much time to get ready. But remember--if one of you grins +when Lawlor gives an order--I'm done with that man--that's all." + +They filed out of the room, looking serious, and Drew concentrated on +Lawlor. "This sounds like a joke," he began, "but there's something +serious about it. If you carry it through safely, there's a hundred in +it for you. If you fall down, why, you fall out of an easy place on this +ranch." + +The big cattleman wiped a growing perspiration from his forehead and +considered his boss with plaintive eyes. + +"This tenderfoot who's coming is green to the range, but he's a hard +man; a fine horseman, a sure shot, and a natural fighter. More than +that, he's coming here looking for trouble; and he'll expect to get the +trouble from you." + +Lawlor brushed his moustache anxiously. + +"Let someone else take the job--that's all. A hundred ain't to be picked +up every week, but I'll do without it. In my day I've done my share of +brawlin' around, but I'm too stiff in the joints to make a fast draw and +getaway now. Let Nash take this job. He's gun-fighter enough to handle +this bad-man for you." + +"No," said Drew, "not even Nash can handle this one." + +"Then"--with a mighty and explosive emphasis--"there ain't no possible +use of me lingering around the job. S'-long." + +"Wait. This young chap isn't going to murder you. I'll tell you this +much. The man he wants is I; but he knows my face, not my name. He's +been on the trail of that face for some time, and now he's tracking it +to the right house; but when he sees you and hears you called Drew, +he'll be thrown off again." + +The other nodded gloomily. + +"I'm by way of a lightning rod. This tenderfoot with the hard hand, he +strikes and I sort of conduct the shock away from anything that'll burn, +eh?" + +Drew overlooked the comment. + +"There are certain things about me you will have to know." And he +explained carefully the story which Nash had told to Bard. + +"This Bard," asked the cautious Lawlor, "is he any relation of old John +Bard?" + +"Even if he were, it wouldn't make your position dangerous. The man he +wants is I. He knows my face--not my name. Until he sees me he'll be +perfectly reasonable, unless he's crossed. You must seem frank and above +board. If you tell more lies than are necessary he may get suspicious, +and if he grows suspicious the game is up and will have to be finished +with a gun play. Remember that. He'll want to know about Nash. Tell him +that Nash is a bad one and that you've fixed him; he mustn't expect to +find Nash here." + +Lawlor rubbed his hands, like one coming from the cold outdoors to a +warm fire. + +"I'm beginning to see light. Lemme at this Bard. I'm going to get enough +fun out of this to keep me laughin' the rest of my life." + +"Good; but keep that laugh up your sleeve. If he asks questions you'll +have some solemn things to say." + +"Chief, when the time comes, there's going to be about a gallon of tears +in my eyes." + +So Drew left him to complete the other arrangements. If Bard reached the +house he must be requested to stay, and if he stayed he must be fed and +entertained. The difficulty in the way of this was that the servants in +the big ranchhouse were two Chinese boys. They could never be trusted to +help in the deception, so Drew summoned two of his men, "Shorty" Kilrain +and "Calamity" Ben. + +Calamity had no other name than Ben, as far as any one on the range had +ever been able to learn. His nickname was derived from the most dolorous +face between Eldara and Twin Rivers. Two pale-blue eyes, set close +together, stared out with an endless and wistful pathos; a long nose +dropped below them, and his mouth curled down at the sides. He was +hopelessly round-shouldered from much and careless riding, and in +attempting to straighten he only succeeded in throwing back his head, so +that his lean neck generally was in a V-shape with the Adam's apple as +the apex of the wedge. + +Shorty Kilrain received his early education at sea and learned there a +general handiness which stood him in stead when he came to the +mountain-desert. There was nothing which Shorty could not do with his +hands, from making a knot to throwing a knife, and he was equally ready +to oblige with either accomplishment. Drew proposed that he take charge +of the kitchen with Calamity Ben as an assistant. Shorty glowered on the +rancher. + +"Me!" he said. "Me go into the galley to wait on a blasted tenderfoot?" + +"After he leaves you'll have a month off with full pay and some over, +Shorty." + +"Don't want the month off." + +Drew considered him thoughtfully, following the precept of Walpole that +every man has his price. + +"What _do_ you want, Shorty?" + +The ex-sailor scratched his head and then rolled his eyes up with a +dawning smile, as one who sees a vision of ultimate bliss. + +"Let one of the other boys catch my hoss out of the corral every morning +and saddle him for me for a month." + +"It's a bargain. What'll you do with that time?" + +"Sit on the fence and roll a cigarette like a blasted gentleman and damn +the eyes of the feller that's catchin' my hoss." + +"And me," said Calamity Ben, "what do I get?" + +"You get orders," answered Kilrain, "from me." + +Calamity regarded him, uncertain whether or not to fight out the point, +but apparently decided that the effort was not worth while. + +"There ain't going to be no luck come out of this," he said darkly. +"Before this tenderfoot gets out of the house, we're all going to wish +he was in hell." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +"SAM'L HALL" + +But with the stage set and the curtain ready to rise on the farce, the +audience did not arrive until the shadow of the evening blotted the +windows of the office where big Lawlor waited impatiently, rehearsing +his part; but when the lamp had been lighted, as though that were a +signal for which the tenderfoot had waited, came a knock at the door of +the room, and then it was jerked open and the head of one of the +cowpunchers was inserted. + +"He's coming!" + +The head disappeared; the door slammed. Lawlor stretched both arms wide, +shifted his belt, loosened his gun in the holster for the fiftieth time, +and exhaled a long breath. Once more the door jerked open, and this time +it was the head and sullen face of Nash, enlivened now by a peculiarly +unpleasant smile. + +"He's here!" + +As the door closed the grim realization came to Lawlor that he could +not face the tenderfoot--his staring eyes and his pallor would betray +him even if the jerking of his hands did not. He swung about in the +comfortable chair, seized a book and whisking it open bowed his head to +read. All that he saw was a dance of irregular black lines: voices +sounded through the hall outside. + +"Sure, he'll see you," Calamity Ben was saying. "And if you want to put +up for the night there ain't nobody more hospital than the Chief. Right +in here, son." + +The door yawned. He could not see, for his back was resolutely toward it +and he was gripping the cover of the book hard to steady his hands; but +he felt a breath of colder air from the outer hall; he felt above all a +new presence peering in upon him, like a winter-starved lynx that might +flatten its round face against the window and peer in at the lazy warmth +and comfort of the humans around the hearth inside. Some such feeling +sent a chill through Lawlor's blood. + +"Hello!" called Calamity Ben. + +"Humph!" grunted Lawlor. + +"Got a visitor, Mr. Drew." + +"Bring him in." + +And Lawlor cleared his throat. + +"All right, here he is." + +The door closed, and Lawlor snapped the book shut. + +"Drew!" said a low voice. + +The cowpuncher turned in his chair. He had intended to rise, but at the +sound of that controlled menace he knew that his legs were too weak to +answer that purpose. What he saw was a slender fellow, who stood with +his head somewhat lowered while his eyes peered down from under +contracted brows, as though the light were hurting them. His feet were +braced apart and his hands dropped lightly on his hips--the very picture +of a man ready to spring into action. + +Under the great brush of his moustache, Lawlor set his teeth, but he was +instantly at ease; for if the sight of the stranger shook him to the +very centre, the other was even more obviously shocked by what he saw. +The hands dropped limp from his hips and dangled idly at his sides; his +body straightened almost with a jerk, as though he had been struck +violently, and now, instead of that searching look, he was blinking down +at his host. Lawlor rose and extended a broad hand and an even broader +smile; he was proud of the strength which had suddenly returned to his +legs. + +"H'ware ye, stranger? Sure glad to see you." + +The other accepted the proffered hand automatically, like one moving in +a dream. + +"Are you Drew?" + +"Sure am." + +"William Drew?" + +He still held the hand as if he were fearful of the vision escaping +without that sensible bondage. + +"William Drew is right. Sit down. Make yourself to home." + +"Thanks!" breathed the other and as if that breath expelled with it all +his strength he slumped into a chair and sat with a fascinated eye glued +to his host. + +Lawlor had time to mark now the signs of long and severe travelling +which the other bore, streaks of mud that disfigured him from heel to +shoulder; and his face was somewhat drawn like a man who has gone to +work fasting. + +"William Drew!" he repeated, more to himself than to Lawlor, and the +latter formed a silent prayer of gratitude that he was _not_ William +Drew. + +"I'm forgetting myself," went on the tenderfoot, with a ghost of a +smile. "My name is Bard--Anthony Bard." + +His glance narrowed again, and this time Lawlor, remembering his part, +pretended to start with surprise. + +"Bard?" + +"Yes. Anthony Bard." + +"Glad to know you. You ain't by any chance related to a John Bard?" + +"Why?" + +"Had a partner once by that name. Good old John Bard!" + +He shook his head, as though overcome by recollections. + +"I've heard something about you and your partner, Mr. Drew." + +"Yes?" + +"In fact, it seems to be a rather unusual story." + +"Well, it ain't common. John Bard! I'll tell the world there was a man." + +"Yes, he was." + +"What's that?" + +"He must have been," answered Anthony, "from all that I've heard of him. +I'm interested in what I scrape together about him. You see, he carries +the same name." + +"That's nacheral. How long since you ate?" + +"Last night." + +"The hell! Starved?" + +"Rather." + +"It's near chow-time. Will you eat now or wait for the reg'lar spread?" + +"I think I can wait, thank you." + +"A little drink right now to help you along, eh?" He strode over and +opened the door. "Hey! Shorty!" + +For answer there came only the wail of an old pirate song. + + + "Oh, my name's Sam'l Hall--Sam'l Hall; + My name's Sam'l Hall--Sam'l Hall. + My name is Sam'l Hall, + And I hate you one an' all, + You're a gang of muckers all-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Listen!" said Lawlor, turning to his guest with a deprecating wave of +the hand. "A cook what sings! Which in the old days I wouldn't have had +a bum like that around my place, but there ain't no choosin' now." + +The voice from the kitchen rolled out louder: + + + "I killed a man, they said, so they said; + I killed a man, they said, so they said. + I killed a man they said, + For I hit 'im on the head, + And I left him there for dead-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Hey! Shorty Kilrain!" bellowed the aggravated host. + +He turned to Bard. + +"What'd you do with a bum like that for a cook?" + +"Pay him wages and keep him around to sing songs. I like this one. +Listen!" + + + "They put me in the quad--in the quad; + They put me in the quad--in the quad. + They put me in the quad, + They chained me to a rod, + And they left me there, by God-- + Damn your eyes!" + + +"Kilrain, come here and make it fast or I'll damn your eyes!" + +He explained to Bard: "Got to be hard with these fellers or you never +get nowhere with 'em." + +"Yo ho!" answered the voice of the singer, and approached booming: + + + "The parson he did come, he did come; + The parson he did come--did come. + The parson he did come, + He looked almighty glum, + He talked of kingdom come--. + Damn your eyes!" + + +Shorty loomed in the doorway and caught his hand to his forehead in a +nautical salute. He had one bad eye, and now it squinted as villainously +as if he were the real _Sam'l Hall_. + +"Righto sir. What'll you have, mate?" + +"Don't mate me, you igner'nt sweepin' of the South Sea, but trot up some +red-eye--and gallop." + +The ex-sailor shifted his quid so that it stuck far out in the opposite +cheek with such violence of pressure that a little spot of white +appeared through the tan of the skin. He regarded Lawlor for a silent +moment with bodeful eyes. + +"What the hell are you lookin' at?" roared the other. "On your way!" + +The features of Kilrain twitched spasmodically. + +"Righto, sir." + +Another salute, and he was off, his voice coming back less and less +distinctly. + + + "So up the rope I'll go, I will go; + So up the rope I'll go--I'll go. + So up the rope I'll go + With the crowd all down below + Yelling, 'Sam, I told you so!' + Damn their eyes!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +HAIR LIKE THE SUNSHINE + +"Well," grumbled Lawlor, settling back comfortably into his chair, "one +of these days I'm goin' to clean out my whole gang and put in a new one. +They maybe won't be any better but they can't be any wuss." + +Nevertheless, he did not seem in the least downhearted, but apparently +had some difficulty in restraining his broad grin. + +The voice of the grim cook returned: + + + "I'll see Nelly in the crowd, in the crowd; + I'll see Nelly in the crowd, in the crowd; + I'll see Nelly in the crowd, + And I'll holler to her loud: + 'Hey, Nelly, ain't you proud-- + Damn your eyes?'" + + +"I ask you," cried Lawlor, with freshly risen wrath, "is that any way to +go around talkin' about women?" + +"Not talking. He's singing," answered Bard. "Let him alone." + +The thunder of their burly Ganymede's singing rose and echoed about +them. + + + "And this shall be my knell, be my knell; + And this shall be my knell--my knell. + And this shall be my knell: + 'Sam, I hope you go to hell, + Sam, I hope you sizzle well-- + Damn your eyes!'" + + +Shorty Kilrain appeared in the doorway, his mouth wide on the last, +long, wailing note. + +"Shorty," said Lawlor, with a sort of hopeless sadness, "ain't you never +been educated to sing no better songs than that?" + +"Why, you old, grey-headed--" began Shorty, and then stopped short and +hitched his trousers violently. + +Lawlor pushed the bottle of whisky and glass toward Bard. + +"Help yourself." And to Kilrain, who was leaving the room: "Come back +here." + +"Well?" snarled the sailor, half turning at the door. + +"While I'm runnin' this here ranch you're goin' to have manners, see?" + +"If manners was like your whiskers," said the unabashed Shorty, "it'd +take me nigh onto thirty years to get 'em." + +And he winked at Bard for sympathy. + +Lawlor smashed his fist on the table. + +"What I say is, are you running this ranch or am I?" + +"Well?" growled Kilrain. + +"If you was a kid you'd have your mouth washed out with soap." + +The eyes of Shorty bulged. + +"It ought to be done now, but there ain't no one I'd give such dirty +work to. What you're going to do is stand right here and show us you +know how to sing a decent song in a decent way. That there song of yours +didn't leave nothin' sacred untouched, from parsons and jails to women +and the gallows. Stand over there and sing." + +The eyes of the sailor filmed over with cold hate. + +"Was I hired to punch cattle," he said, "or make a blasted, roarin' fool +out of myself?" + +"You was hired," answered Lawlor softly, as he filled his glass to the +brim with the old rye whisky, "to be a cook, and you're the rottenest +hash-slinger that ever served cold dough for biscuits; a blasted, +roarin' fool you've already made out of yourself by singin' that song. I +want another one to get the sound of that out of my ears. Tune up!" + +Thoughts of murder, ill-concealed, whitened the face of the sailor. + +"Some day--" he began hoarsely, and then stopped. For a vision came to +him of blithe mornings when he should sit on the top of the corral fence +rolling a cigarette, while some other puncher went into the herd and +roped and saddled his horse. + +"D'you mean this--Drew?" he asked, with an odd emphasis. + +"D'you think I'm talking for fun?" + +"What'll I sing?" he asked in a voice which was reduced to a faint +whisper by rage. + +"I dunno," mused Lawlor, "but maybe it ought to lie between 'Alice, Ben +Bolt,' and 'Annie Laurie.' What d'you choose, partner?" + +He turned to Bard. + +"'Alice, Ben Bolt,' by all means. I don't think he could manage the +Scotch." + +"Start!" commanded Lawlor. + +The sailor closed his eyes, tilted back his head, twisted his face to a +hideous grimace, and then opening his shapeless mouth emitted a +tremendous wail which took shape in the following words: + + + "Oh, don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, + Sweet Alice, with hair like the sunshine--" + + +"Shut up!" roared Lawlor. + +It required a moment for Shorty to unkink the congested muscles of his +face. + +"What the hell's the matter now?" he inquired. + +"Whoever heard of 'hair like the sunshine'? There ain't no such thing +possible. 'Hair so brown,' that's what the song says. Shorty, we got +more feelin' for our ears than to let you go on singin' an' showin' your +ignerance. G'wan back to the kitchen!" + +Kilrain drew a long breath, regarded Lawlor again with that considerate, +expectant eye, and then turned on his heel and strode from the room. +Back to Bard came fragments of tremendous cursing of an epic breadth and +a world-wide inclusiveness. + +"Got to do things like this once in a while to keep 'em under my thumb," +Lawlor explained genially. + +With all his might Bard was struggling to reconcile this big-handed +vulgarian with his mental picture of the man who could write for an +epitaph: "Here sleeps Joan, the wife of William Drew. She chose this +place for rest." But the two ideas were not inclusive. + +He said aloud: "Aren't you afraid that that black-eyed fellow will run a +knife between your ribs one of these dark nights?" + +"Who? My ribs?" exclaimed Lawlor, nevertheless stirring somewhat +uneasily in his chair. "Nope, they know that I'm William Drew. They may +be hard, but they know I'm harder." + +"Oh," drawled the other, and his eyes held with uncomfortable steadiness +on the rosy face of Lawlor. "I understand." + +To cover his confusion Lawlor seized his glass. + +"Here's to you--drinkin' deep." + +And he tossed off the mighty potion. Bard had poured only a few drops +into his glass; he had too much sympathy for his empty stomach to do +more. His host leaned back, coughing, with tears of pleasure in his +eyes. + +"Damn me!" he breathed reverently. "I ain't touched stuff like this in +ten years." + +"Is this a new stock?" inquired Bard, apparently puzzled. + +"This?" said Lawlor, recalling his position with a start. "Sure it is; +brand new. Yep, stuff ain't been in more'n five days. Smooth, ain't it? +Medicine, that's what I call it; a gentleman's drink--goes down like +water." + +Observing a rather quizzical light in the eyes of Bard, he felt that he +had probably been making a few missteps, and being warmed greatly at the +heart by the whisky, he launched forth in a new phase of the +conversation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +"THE CRITIQUE OF PURE REASON" + +"Speakin' of hard cattlemen," he said, "I could maybe tell you a few +things, son." + +"No doubt of it," smiled Anthony. "I presume it would take a _very_ hard +man to handle this crowd." + +"Fairly hard," nodded the redoubtable Lawlor, "but they ain't nothin' to +the men that used to ride the range in the old days." + +"No?" + +"Nope. One of them men--why, he'd eat a dozen like Kilrain and think +nothin' of it. Them was the sort I learned to ride the range with." + +"I've heard something about a fight which you and John Bard had against +the Piotto gang. Care to tell me anything of it?" + +Lawlor lolled easily back in his chair and balanced a second large drink +between thumb and forefinger. + +"There ain't no harm in talk, son; sure I'll tell you about it. What +d'you want to know?" + +"The way Bard fought--the way you both fought." + +"Lemme see." + +He closed his eyes like one who strives to recollect; he was, in fact, +carefully recalling the skeleton of facts which Drew had told him +earlier in the day. + +"Six months, me and Bard had been trailin' Piotto, damn his old soul! +Bard--he'd of quit cold a couple of times, but I kept him at it." + +"John Bard would have quit?" asked Anthony softly. + +"Sure. He was a big man, was Bard, but he didn't have none too much +endurance." + +"Go on," nodded Anthony. + +"Six months, I say, we was ridin' day and night and wearin' out a hoss +about every week of that time. Then we got jest a hint from a bartender +that maybe the Piottos was nearby in that section. + +"It didn't need no more than a hint for us to get busy on the trail. We +hit a circle through the mountains--it was over near Twin Rivers where +the ground ain't got a level stretch of a hundred yards in a whole day's +ridin'. And along about evenin' of the second day we come to the house +of Tom Shaw, a squatter. + +"Bard would of passed the house up, because he knew Shaw and said there +wasn't nothin' crooked about him, but I didn't trust nobody in them +days--and I ain't changed a pile since." + +"That," remarked Anthony, "is an example I think I shall follow." + +"Eh?" said Lawlor, somewhat blankly. "Well, we rode up on the blind side +of the house--from the north, see, got off, and sneaked around to the +east end of the shack. The windows was covered with cloths on the +inside, which didn't make me none too sure about Shaw havin' no dealin's +with crooks. It ain't ordinary for a feller to be so savin' on light. +Pretty soon we found a tear in one of the cloths, and lookin' through +that we seen old Piotto sittin' beside Tom Shaw with his daughter on the +other side. + +"We went back to the north side of the house and figured out different +ways of tacklin' the job. There was only the two of us, see, and the +fellers inside that house was all cut out for man-killers. How would you +have gone after 'em, son?" + +"Opened the door, I suppose, and started shooting," said Bard, "if I had +the courage." + +The other stared at him. + +"You heard this story before?" + +"Not this part." + +"Well, that was jest what we done. First off, it sounds like a fool way +of tacklin' them; but when you think twice it was the best of all. They +never was expectin' anybody fool enough to walk right into that room and +start fightin'. We went back and had a look at the door. + +"It wasn't none too husky. John Bard, he tried the latch, soft, but the +thing was locked, and when he pulled there was a snap. + +"'Who's there?' hollers someone inside. + +"We froze ag'in' the side of the house, lookin' at each other pretty +sick. + +"'Nobody's there,' sings out the voice of old Piotto. 'We can trust Tom +Shaw, jest because he knows that if he double-crossed us he'd be the +first man to die.' + +"And we heard Tom say, sort of quaverin': 'God's sake, boys, what d'you +think I am?' + +"'Now,' says Bard, and we put our shoulders to the door, and takes our +guns in our hands--we each had two. + +"The door went down like nothin', because we was both husky fellers in +them days, and as she smashed in the fall upset two of the boys sittin' +closest and gave 'em no chance on a quick draw. The rest of 'em was too +paralyzed at first, except old Piotto. He pulled his gun, but what he +shot was Tom Shaw, who jest leaned forward in his chair and crumpled up +dead. + +"We went at 'em, pumpin' lead. It wasn't no fight at first and half of +'em was down before they had their guns workin'. But when the real hell +started it wasn't no fireside story, I'll tell a man. We had the jump on +'em, but they meant business. I dropped to the floor and lay on my side, +shootin'; Bard, he followered suit. They went down like tenpins till our +guns were empty. Then we up and rushed what was left of 'em--Piotto and +his daughter. Bard makes a pass to knock the gun out of the hand of Joan +and wallops her on the head instead. Down she goes. I finished Piotto +with my bare hands." + +"Broke his back, eh?" + +"Me? Whoever heard of breakin' a man's back? Ha, ha, ha! You been +hearin' fairy tales, son. Nope, I choked the old rat." + +"Were you badly hurt?" + +Lawlor searched his memory hastily; there was no information on this +important point. + +"Couple of grazes," he said, dismissing the subject with a tolerant wave +of the hand. "Nothin' worth talkin' of." + +"I see," nodded Bard. + +It occurred to Lawlor that his guest was taking the narrative in a +remarkably philosophic spirit. He reviewed his telling of the story +hastily and could find nothing that jarred. + +He concluded: "That was the way of livin' in them days. They ain't no +more--they ain't no more!" + +"And now," said Anthony, "the only excitement you get is out of +books--and running the labourers?" + +He had picked up the book which Lawlor had just laid down. + +"Oh, I read a bit now and then," said the cowpuncher easily, "but I +ain't much on booklearnin'." + +Bard was turning the pages slowly. The title, whose meaning dawned +slowly on his astonished mind as a sunset comes in winter over a grey +landscape, was The Critique of Pure Reason. He turned the book over and +over in his hands. It was well thumbed. + +He asked, controlling his voice: "Are you fond of Kant?" + +"Eh?" queried the other. + +"Fond of this book?" + +"Yep, that's one of my favourites. But I ain't much on any books." + +"However," said Bard, "the story of this is interesting." + +"It is. There's some great stuff in it," mumbled Lawlor, trying to +squint at the title, which he had quite overlooked during the daze in +which he first picked it up. + +Bard laid the book aside and out of sight. + +"And I like the characters, don't you? Some very close work done with +them." + +"Yep, there's a lot of narrow escapes." + +"Exactly. I'm glad that we agree about books." + +"So'm I. Feller can kill a lot of time chinning about books." + +"Yes, I suppose a good many people have killed time over this book." + +And as he smiled genially upon the cowpuncher, Bard felt a great relief +sweep over him, a mighty gladness that this was not Drew--that this +looselipped gabbler was not the man who had written the epitaph over the +tomb of Joan Piotto. He lied about the book; he had lied about it all. +And knowing that this was not Drew, he felt suddenly as if someone were +watching him from behind, someone large and grey and stern of eye, like +the giant who had spoken to him so long before in the arena at Madison +Square Garden. + +A game was being played with him, and behind that game must be Drew +himself; all Bard could do was to wait for developments. + +The familiar, booming voice of Shorty Kilrain echoed through the house: +"Supper!" + +And the loud clangour of a bell supported the invitation. + +"Chow-time," breathed Lawlor heavily, like one relieved at the end of a +hard shift of work. "I figure you ain't sorry, son?" + +"No," answered Bard, "but it's too bad to break off this talk. I've +learned a lot." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +THE STAGE + +"You first," said Lawlor at the door. + +"I've been taught to let an older man go first," said Bard, smiling +pleasantly. "After you, sir." + +"Any way you want it, Bard," answered Lawlor, but as he led the way down +the hall he was saying to himself, through his stiffly mumbling lips: +"He knows! Calamity was right; there's going to be hell poppin' before +long." + +He lengthened his stride going down the long hall to the dining-room, +and entering, he found the cowpunchers about to take their places around +the big table. Straight toward the head to the big chair he stalked, and +paused an instant beside little Duffy. Their interchange of whispers was +like a muffled rapid-fire, for they had to finish before young Bard, now +just entering the room, could reach them and take his designated chair +at the right of Lawlor. + +"He knows," muttered Lawlor. + +"Hell! Then it's all up?" + +"No; keep bluffin'; wait. How's everything?" + +"Gregory ain't come in, but Drew may put him wise before he gets inside +the house." + +"You done all I could expect," said Lawlor aloud as Bard came up, "but +to-morrow go back on the same job and try to get something definite." + +To Bard: "Here's your place, partner. Just been tellin' Duffy, there on +your right, about some work. Some of the doggies have been rustled +lately and we're on their trail." + +They took their places, and Bard surveyed the room carefully, as an +actor who stands in the wings and surveys the stage on which he is soon +to step and play a great part; for in Anthony there was a gathering +sense of impending disaster and action. What he saw was a long, low +apartment, the bare rafters overhead browned by the kitchen smoke, which +even now was rolling in from the wide door at the end of the room--the +thick, oily smoke of burnt meat mingled with steam and the nameless +vapours of a great oven. + +There was no semblance of a decoration on the walls; the boards were not +even painted. It was strictly a place for use, not pleasure. The food +itself which Shorty Kilrain and Calamity Ben now brought on was +distinctly utilitarian rather than appetizing. The piece de resistance +was a monstrous platter heaped high with beefsteak, not the inviting +meat of a restaurant in a civilized city, but thin, brown slabs, fried +dry throughout. The real nourishment was in the gravy in which the steak +swam. In a dish of even more amazing proportions was a vast heap of +potatoes boiled with their jackets on. Lawlor commenced loading the +stack of plates before him, each with a slab and a potato or two. + +Meantime from a number of big coffee pots a stream of a liquid, bitter as +lye and black as night, was poured into the tin cups. Yet the cattlemen +about the table settled themselves for the meal with a pleasant +expectation fully equal to that of the most seasoned gourmand in a +Manhattan restaurant. + +The peculiar cowboy's squint--a frowning of the brow and a compression +of the thin lips--relaxed. That frown came from the steady effort to +shade the eyes from the white-hot sunlight; the compression of the lips +was due to a determination to admit none of the air, laden with alkali +dust, except through the nostrils. It grew in time into a perpetual +grimace, so that the expression of an old range rider is that of a man +steeling himself to pass through some grim ordeal. + +Now as they relaxed, Anthony perceived first of all that most of the +grimness passed away from the narrowed eyes and they lighted instead +with good-humoured banter, though of a weary nature. One by one, they +cast off ten years of age; the lines rubbed out; the jaws which had +thrust out grew normal; the leaning heads straightened and went back. + +They paid not the slightest attention to the newcomer, talking easily +among themselves, but Anthony was certain that at least some of them +were thinking of him. If they said nothing, their thoughts were the +more. + +In fact, in the meantime little Duffy had passed on to the next man, in +a side mutter, the significant phrase: "He knows!" It went from lip to +lip like a watchword passing along a line of sentinels. Each man heard +it imperturbably, completed the sentence he was speaking before, or +maintained his original silence through a pause, and then repeated it to +his right-hand neighbour. Their demeanour did not alter perceptibly, +except that the laughter, perhaps, became a little more uproarious, and +they were sitting straighter in their chairs, their eyes brighter. + +All they knew was that Drew had impressed on them that Bard must not +leave that room in command of his six-shooter or even of his hands. He +must be bound securely. The working out of the details of execution he +had left to their own ingenuity. It might have seemed a little thing to +do to greener fellows, but every one of these men was an experienced +cowpuncher, and like all old hands on the range they were perfectly +familiar with the amount of damage which a single armed man can do. + +The thing could be done, of course, but the point was to do it with the +minimum of danger. So they waited, and talked, and ate and always from +the corners of their eyes were conscious of the slightly built, +inoffensive man who sat beside Lawlor near the head of the table. In +appearance he was surely most innocuous, but Nash had spoken, and in +such matters they were all willing to take his word with a childlike +faith. + +So the meal went on, and the only sign, to the most experienced eye, was +that the chairs were placed a little far back from the edge of the +table, a most necessary condition when men may have to rise rapidly or +get at their holsters for a quick draw. + +Calamity Ben bearing a mighty dish of bread pudding, passed directly +behind the chair of the stranger. The whole table watched with a sudden +keenness, and they saw Bard turn, ever so slightly, just as Calamity +passed behind the chair. + +"I say," he said, "may I have a bit of hot water to put in this coffee?" + +"Sure," said Calamity, and went on, but the whole table knew that the +stranger was on his guard. + +The mutual suspicion gave a tenseness to the atmosphere, as if it were +charged with the electricity of a coming storm, a tingling waiting which +made the men prone to become silent and then talk again in fitful +outbursts. Or it might be said that it was like a glass full of +precipitate which only waits for the injection of a single unusual +substance before it settles to the bottom and leaves the remaining +liquid clear. It was for the unusual, then, that the entire assembly +waited, feeling momentarily that it must be coming, for the strain could +not endure. + +As for Bard, he stuck by his original apparent indifference. For he +still felt sure that the real William Drew was behind this elaborate +deception and the thing for which he waited was some revelation of the +hand of the master. The trumps which he felt he held was in being +forewarned; he could not see that the others knew his hand. + +He said to Lawlor: "I think a man named Nash works on this ranch. I +expected to see him at supper here." + +"Nash?" answered Lawlor. "Sure, he used to be foreman here. Ain't no +more. Nope--I couldn't stand for his lip. Didn't mind him getting fresh +till he tried to ride me. Then I turned him loose. Where did you meet +him?" + +"While I was riding in this direction." + +"Want to see him bad?" + +The other moistened his lips. + +"Rather! He killed my horse." + +A silence fell on these who were within hearing. They would not have +given equal attention to the story of the killing of a man. + +"How'd he get away with it?" + +"The Saverack was between us. Before I could get my gun out he was +riding out of range. I'll meet him and have another talk some day." + +"Well, the range ain't very small." + +"But my dear fellow, it's not nearly as big as my certainty of meeting +this--cur." + +There is something in a low, slow voice more thrilling than the thunder +of actual rage. Those who heard glanced to one another with thoughtful +eyes. They were thinking of Nash, and thinking of him with sympathy. + +Little Duffy, squat and thick-set, felt inspiration descend on him. He +turned to Bard on his left. + +"That ain't a full-size forty-five, is it--that one you're packin'?" + +"Doesn't it look it?" answered Bard. + +"Nope. Holster seems pretty small to me." + +"It's the usual gun, I'm sure," said Bard, and pulled the weapon from +the leather. + +Holding the butt loosely, his trigger finger hooked clear around the far +side of the guard, he showed the gun. + +"I was wrong," nodded Duffy unabashed, "that's the regular kind. Let's +have a look at it." + +And he stretched out his hand. No one would ever have guessed how +closely the table followed what now happened, for each man began talking +in a voice even louder than before. It was as if they sought to cover +the stratagem of Duffy with their noise. + +"There's nothing unusual about the gun," said Bard, "but I'd be glad to +let you have it except that I've formed a habit of never letting a +six-shooter get away from me. It's a foolish habit, I know, but I can't +lose it. If there's any part you'd like to see, just name it." + +"Thanks," answered Duffy. "I guess I've seen all I want of it." + +Calamity had failed; Duffy had failed. It began to look as if force of +downright numbers must settle the affair. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +SALLY BREAKS A MIRROR + +As Sally had remarked the night before, one does not pay much attention +to a toilet when one rises at 5 a.m. At least that is the rule, but +Sally, turning out with a groan in the chill, dark room, shut off the +alarm, lighted her lamp, and set about the serious task of dressing. A +woman, after all, is much like a diplomatic statesman; a hint along +certain lines is more to her than a sworn statement. + +She had secured a large mirror, and in front of this she laboured +patiently for a full ten minutes, twisting her hair this way and that, +and using the comb and brush vigorously. Now and then, as she worked, +she became aware that a fluff of hair rolling down low over her forehead +did amazing things to her face and brought her from Sally Fortune into +the strange dignity of a "lady." But she could not complete any of the +manoeuvres, no matter how promisingly they started. In the end she +dashed a handful of hairpins on the floor and wound the hair about her +head with a few swift turns. + +She studied the sullen, boyish visage which looked back at her. After +all, she would be unmercifully joked if she were to appear with her hair +grown suddenly fluffy and womanly--it would become impossible for her to +run the eating-place without the assistance of a man, and a fighting man +at that. So what was the use? She threw the mirror crashing on the +floor; it splintered in a thousand pieces. + +"After all," she murmured aloud, "do I want to be a woman?" + +The sullen mouth undoubtedly answered "No"; the wistful eyes undoubtedly +replied in another key. She shrugged the question away and stepped out +of her room toward the kitchen, whistling a tune to raise her spirits. + +"Late, Sally," said the cook, tossing another hot cake on the growing +pile which surmounted the warmer. + +"Sure; I busted my mirror," said Sally. + +The cook stared at her in such astonishment that he allowed a quantity +of dough to fall from the dish cupped in the hollow of his arm; it +overflowed the griddle-iron. + +"Blockhead!" shouted Sally. "Watch your step!" + +She resumed, when the dough had been rescued by somewhat questionable +means: "D'you think a girl can dress in the dark?" + +But the cook had had too much experience with his employer to press what +seemed a tender point. He confined his attention to the pancakes. + +"There ain't no fool worse than a he-fool," continued Sally bitterly. +"Which maybe you think a girl can dress without a mirror?" + +Since this taunt brought no response from her victim, she went on into +the eating-room. It was already filling, and the duties of her strenuous +day began. + +They continued without interruption hour after hour, for the popularity +of her restaurant had driven all competition out of Eldara, a result +which filled the pocket-book and fattened the bank account of Sally +Fortune, but loaded unnumbered burdens onto her strong shoulders. For +she could not hire a waiter to take her place; every man who came into +the eating-room expected to be served by the slim hands of Sally +herself, and he expected also some trifling repartee which would make +him pay his bill with a grin. + +The repartee dragged with Sally to-day, almost to sullenness, and when +she began to grow weary in the early afternoon, there was no reserve +strength on which she could fall back. She suddenly became aware that +she wanted support, aid, comfort. Finally she spilled a great armful of +"empties" down on the long drain-board of the sink, turned to the wall, +and buried her face in her hands. The cook, Bert, though he cast a +startled glance at her would not have dared to speak, after that +encounter of the morning, but a rather explosive sniff was too eloquent +an appeal to his manliness. + +His left sleeve having fallen, he rolled it back, tied the strings of +the apron tighter about his plump middle, and advanced to the battle. +His hand touched the shoulder of the girl. + +"Sally!" + +"Shut your face!" moaned a stifled voice. + +But he took his courage between his teeth and persisted. + +"Sally, somethin' is wrong." + +"Nothin' you can right, Fatty," said the same woe-stricken voice. + +"Sally, if somebody's been gettin' fresh with you--" + +Her arms jerked down; she whirled and faced him with clenched fists; +her eyes shining more brightly for the mist which was in them. + +"Fresh with me? Why, you poor, one-horned yearling, d'you think there's +anybody in Eldara man enough to get fresh with me?" + +Bert retreated a step; caution was a moving element in his nature. From +a vantage point behind a table, however, he ventured: "Then what is +wrong?" + +Her woe, apparently, was greater than her wrath. + +She said sadly: "I dunno, Bert. I ain't the man I used to be--I mean, +the woman." + +He waited, his small eyes gentle. What woman can altogether resist +sympathy, even from a fat man and a cook? Not even the redoubtable soul +of a Sally. + +She confessed: "I feel sort of hollow and gone--around the stomach, +Fatty." + +"Eat," suggested the cook. "I just took out a pie that would--" + +"But it ain't the stomach. It's like bein' hungry and wantin' no food. +Fatty, d'you think I'm sick?" + +"You look kind of whitish." + +"Fatty, I feel--" + +She hesitated, as though too great a confession were at her lips, but +she stumbled on: "I feel as if I was afraid of somethin', or someone." + +"That," said Bert confidently, "ain't possible. It's the stomach, Sally. +Something ain't agreed with you." + +She turned from him with a vague gesture of despair. + +"If this here feelin' is goin' to keep up--why, I wisht I was dead--I +wisht I was dead!" + +She went on to the swinging door, paused there to dab her eyes swiftly, +started to whistle a tune, and in this fashion marched back to the +eating-room. Fatty, turning back to the stove, shook his head; he was +more than ever convinced in his secret theory that all women are crazy. + +Sally found that a new man had entered, one whom she could not remember +having seen before. She went to him at once, for it seemed to her that +she would die, indeed, if she had to look much longer on the familiar, +unshaven faces of the other men in the room. + +"Anything you got," said the stranger, who was broad of hands and thick +of neck and he cast an anxious eye on her. "I hear you seen something of +a thinnish, dark feller named Bard." + +"What d'_you_ want with him?" asked Sally with dangerous calm. + +"I was aimin' to meet up with him. That's all." + +"Partner, if you want to stand in solid around here, don't let out that +you're a friend of his. He ain't none too popular; that's straight and +puttin' it nice and easy." + +"Which who said I was his friend?" said the other with heat. + +She turned away to the kitchen and reappeared shortly, bearing his meal. +The frown with which she departed had disappeared, and she was smiling +as brightly as ever while she arranged the dishes in front of him. He +paid no attention to the food. + +"Now," she said, resting both hands on the table and leaning so that she +could look him directly in the eye: "What's Bard done now? +Horse--gun-fighter--woman; which?" + +The other loosened the bandanna which circled his bull neck. + +"Woman," he said hoarsely, and the blood swelled his throat and face +with veins of purple. + +"Ah-h-h," drawled the girl, and straightening, she dropped both hands on +her hips. It was a struggle, but she managed to summon another smile. + +"Wife--sister--sweetheart?" + +The man stared dubiously on her, and Sally, mother to five hundred wild +rangers, knew the symptoms of a man eager for a confidant. She slipped +into the opposite chair. + +"It might be any of the three," she went on gently, "and I know because +I've seen him work." + +"Damn his soul!" growled the other by way of a prefix to his story. "It +ain't any of the three with me. This Bard--maybe he tried his hand with +you?" + +Whether it was rage or scorn that made her start and redden he could not +tell. + +"Me?" she repeated. "A tenderfoot get fresh with me? Stranger, you ain't +been long in Eldara or you wouldn't pull a bonehead like that." + +"'Scuse me. I was hopin' that maybe you took a fall out of him, that's +all." + +He studied the blue eyes. They had been tinted with ugly green a moment +before, but now they were clear, deep, dark, guileless blue. He could +not resist. The very nearness of the woman was like a gentle, cool hand +caressing his forehead and rubbing away the troubles. + +"It was like this," he began. "Me and Lizzie had been thick for a couple +of years and was jest waitin' till I'd corralled enough cash for a +start. Then the other day along comes this feller Bard with a queer way +of talkin' school language. Made you feel like you was readin' a bit out +of a dictionary jest to listen to him for a minute. Liz, she never +heard nothin' like it, I figure. She got all eyes and sat still and +listened. Bein' like that he plumb made a fool out of Liz. Kidded her +along and wound up by kissing her good-bye. I didn't see none of this; I +jest heard about it later. When I come up and started talkin' jest +friendly with Liz she got sore and passed me the frosty stare. I didn't +think she could be doin' more than kiddin' me a bit, so I kept right on +and it ended up with Liz sayin' that all was over between us." + +He paused on his tragedy, set his teeth over a sigh, and went on: "The +feller ain't no good. I know that from a chap that come to the house a +few hours after Bard left. Nash was his name--" + +"What!" + +"Nash. Feller built husky around the shoulders--looks like a fighter. +Know him?" + +"Pretty well. D'you say he come to your house right after Bard left it?" + +"Yep. Why?" + +"How long ago was this?" + +"About three days." + +"Three days?" + +"What's wrong?" + +"Nothin'." + +"You look like you was goin' to murder some one, lady." + +Her laughter ended with a jerk and jar. + +"Maybe I am. G'wan! Tell me some more about what Nash said." + +"Why, he didn't say much. Hinted around that maybe Bard had walked off +with the piebald hoss he was ridin'." + +"That's a lie." + +"Lady," said the other a little coldly, "you say that like you was a +friend of Bard's." + +"Me? There ain't nobody around these parts man enough to say to my face +that I'm a friend of that tenderfoot." + +"I'm glad of that. My name's Ralph Boardman." + +"I'm Sally Fortune." + +"Sure; I've heard of you--a lot. Say, you couldn't tip me off where I +could hit the trail of Bard?" + +"Dunno. Wait; lemme see." + +She studied, with closed eyes. What she was thinking was that if Nash +had been so close to Bard three days before he was surely on the trail +of the tenderfoot and certainly that meeting in her place had not been a +casual one. She set her teeth, thinking of the promise Nash had given to +her. Undoubtedly he had laughed at it afterward. And now Bard probably +lay stretched on his back somewhere among the silent hills looking up to +the pitiless brightness of the sky with eyes which could never shut. + +The hollow feeling of which Sally had complained to Bert grew to a +positive ache, and the tears stood up closer to her eyes. + +"Wait around town," she said in a changed voice. "I think I heard him +say something of riding out, but he'll be back before long. That's the +only tip I can give you, partner." + +So she rose and hurried back to the kitchen. + +"Bert," she said, "I'm off for the rest of the day. You got to handle +the place." + +He panted: "But the heavy rush--it ain't started yet." + +"It's started for me." + +"What d'you mean?" + +"Nothin'. I'm on my way. S'long, Bert. Back in the mornin' bright and +early." + +If she could not find Bard at least she could find Nash at the ranch of +Drew, and in that direction she headed her racing horse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +THE SHOW + +Jansen, the big Swede, was the first to finish his meal in Drew's +dining-room. For that matter, he was always first. He ate with +astonishing expedition, lowering his head till that tremendous, +shapeless mouth was close to the plate and then working knife and fork +alternately with an unfaltering industry. To-night, spurred on by a +desire to pass through this mechanical effort and be prepared for the +coming action, his speed was something truly marvellous. He did not +appear to eat; the food simply vanished from the plate; it was absorbed +like a mist before the wind. While the others were barely growing +settled in their places, Jansen was already through. + +He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, produced Durham and papers, +and proceeded to light up. Lawlor, struggling still to re-establish +himself in the eyes of Bard as the real William Drew, seized the +opportunity to exert a show of authority. He smashed his big fist on +the table. + +"Jansen!" he roared. + +"Eh?" grunted the Swede. + +"Where was you raised?" + +"Me?" + +"You, square-head." + +"Elvaruheimarstadhaven." + +"Are you sneezin' or talkin' English?" + +Jansen, irritated, bellowed: "Elvaruheimarstadhaven! That's where I was +born." + +"That's where you was born? Elvaru--damn such a language! No wonder you +Swedes don't know nothin'. It takes all your time learnin' how to talk +your lingo. But if you ain't never had no special trainin' in manners, +I'm goin' to make a late start with you now. Put out that cigarette!" + +The pale eyes of Jansen stared, fascinated; the vast mouth fell agape. + +"Maybe," he began, and then finished weakly: "I be damned!" + +"There ain't no reasonable way of doubtin' that unless you put out that +smoke. Hear me?" + +Shorty Kilrain, coming from the kitchen, grinned broadly. Having felt +the lash of discipline himself, he was glad to see it fall in another +place. He continued his gleeful course around that side of the table. + +And big Jansen slowly, imperturbably, raised the cigarette and inhaled a +mighty cloud of smoke which issued at once in a rushing, fine blue mist, +impelled by a snort. + +"Maybe," he rumbled, completing his thought, "maybe you're one damn +fool!" + +"I'm going to learn you who's boss in these parts," boomed Lawlor. "Put +out that cigarette! Don't you know no better than to smoke at the +table?" + +Jansen pushed back his chair and started to rise. There was no doubt as +to his intentions; they were advertised in the dull and growing red +which flamed in his face. But Kilrain, as though he had known such a +moment would come, caught the Swede by the shoulders and forced him back +into the chair. As he did so he whispered something in the ear of +Jansen. + +"Let him go!" bellowed Lawlor. "Let him come on. Don't hold him. I ain't +had work for my hands for five years. I need exercise, I do." + +The mouth of Jansen stirred, but no words came. A hopeless yearning was +in his eyes. But he dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel. + +"I thought," growled Lawlor, "that you knew your master, but don't make +no mistake again. Speakin' personal, I don't think no more of knockin' +down a Swede than I do of flickin' the ashes off'n a cigar." + +He indulged in a side glance at Bard to see if the latter were properly +impressed, but Anthony was staring blankly straight before him, unable, +to all appearances, to see anything of what was happening. + +"Kilrain," went on Lawlor, "trot out some cigars. You know where they're +kept." + +Kilrain falling to the temptation, asked: "Where's the key to the +cabinet?" + +For Drew kept his tobacco in a small cabinet, locked because of long +experience with tobacco-loving employees. Lawlor started to speak, +checked himself, fumbled through his pockets, and then roared: "Smash +the door open. I misplaced the key." + +No semblance of a smile altered the faces of the cowpunchers around the +table, but glances of vague meaning were interchanged. Kilrain +reappeared almost at once, bearing a large box of cigars under each arm. + +"The eats bein' over," announced Lawlor, "we can now light up. Open them +boxes, Shorty. Am I goin' to work on you the rest of my life teachin' +you how to serve cigars?" + +Kilrain sighed deeply, but obeyed, presenting the open boxes in turn to +Bard, who thanked him, and to Lawlor, who bit off the end of his smoke +continued: "A match, Kilrain." + +And he waited, swelling with pleasure, his eyes fixed upon space. +Kilrain lighted a match and held it for the two in turn. Two rows of +waiting, expectant eyes were turned from the whole length, of the table, +toward the cigars. + +"Shall I pass on the cigars?" suggested Bard. + +"_These_ smokes?" breathed Lawlor. "Waste 'em on common hands? Partner, +you ain't serious, are you?" + +A breath like the faint sighing of wind reached them; the cowpunchers +were resigned, and started now to roll their Durham. But it seemed as if +a chuckle came from above; it was only some sound in the gasoline lamp, +a big fixture which hung suspended by a slender chain from the centre of +the ceiling and immediately above the table. + +"Civilizin' cowpunchers," went on Lawlor, tilting back in his chair and +bracing his feet against the edge of the table, "civilizin' cowpunchers +is worse'n breakin' mustangs. They's some that say it can't be done. +But look at this crew. Do they look like rough uns?" + +A stir had passed among the cowpunchers and solemn stares of hate +transfixed Lawlor, but he went on: "I'm askin' you, do these look +rough?" + +"I should say," answered Bard courteously, "that you have a pretty +experienced lot of cattle-men." + +"Experienced? Well, they'll pass. They've had experience with bar whisky +and talkin' to their cards at poker, but aside from bein' pretty much +drunks and crookin' the cards, they ain't anything uncommon. But when I +got 'em they was wild, they was. Why, if I'd talked like this in front +of 'em they'd of been guns pulled. But look at 'em now. I ask you: Look +at 'em now! Ain't they tame? They hear me call 'em what they are, but +they don't even bat an eye. Yes, sir, I've tamed 'em. They took a lot of +lickin', but now they're tamed. Hello!" + +For through the door stalked a newcomer. He paused and cast a curious +eye up the table to Lawlor. + +"What the hell!" he remarked naively. "Where's the chief?" + +"Fired!" bellowed Lawlor without a moment of hesitation. + +"Who fired him?" asked the new man, with an expectant smile, like one +who waits for the point of a joke, but he caught a series of strange +signals from men at the table and many a broad wink. + +"I fired him, Gregory," answered Lawlor. "I fired Nash!" + +He turned to Bard. + +"You see," he said rather weakly, "the boys is used to callin' Nash 'the +chief.'" + +"Ah, yes," said Bard, "I understand." + +And Lawlor felt that he did understand, and too well. + +Gregory, in the meantime, silenced by the mysterious signs from his +fellow cowpunchers, took his place and began eating without another +word. No one spoke to him, but as if he caught the tenseness of the +situation, his eyes finally turned and glanced up the table to Bard. + +It was easy for Anthony to understand that glance. It is the sort of +look which the curious turn on the man accused of a great crime and +sitting in the court room guilty. His trial in silence had continued +until he was found guilty. Apparently, he was now to be both judged and +executed at the same time. + +There could not be long delay. The entrance of Gregory had almost been +the precipitant of action, and though it had been smoothed over to an +extent, still the air was each moment more charged with suspense. The +men were lighting their second cigarette. With each second it grew +clearer that they were waiting for something. And as if thoughtful of +the work before them, they no longer talked so fluently. + +Finally there was no talk at all, save for sporadic outbursts, and the +blue smoke and the brown curled up slowly in undisturbed drifts toward +the ceiling until a bright halo formed around the gasoline lamp. A +childish thought came to Bard that where the smoke was so thick the fire +could not be long delayed. + +A second form appeared in the doorway, lithe, graceful, and the light +made her hair almost golden. + +"Ev'nin', fellers," called Sally jauntily. "Hello, Lawlor; what you +doin' at the head of the table?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +THE LAMP + +The bluff was ended. It was as if the wind blew a cloud suddenly from +the face of the sun and let the yellow sunlight pour brightly over the +world; so everyone in the room at the voice of Sally knew that the time +had come for action. There was no vocal answer to her, but each man rose +slowly in his place, his gun naked in his hand, and every face was +turned to Bard. + +"Gentlemen," he said in his soft voice, "I see that my friend Lawlor has +not wasted his lessons in manners. At least you know enough to rise when +a lady enters the room." + +His gun, held at the hip, pointed straight down the table to the burly +form of Jansen, but his eyes, like those of a pugilist, seemed to be +taking in every face at the table, and each man felt in some subtle +manner that the danger would fall first on him. They did not answer, but +hands were tightening around revolver butts. + +Lawlor moved back, pace by pace, his revolver shaking in his hand. + +"But," went on Bard, "you are all facing me. Is it possible?" + +He laughed. + +"I knew that Mr. Drew was very anxious to receive me with courtesy; I +did not dream that he would be able to induce so many men to take care +of me." + +And Sally Fortune, bracing herself against the wall with one hand, and +in the capable grasp of the other a six-gun balanced, stared in growing +amazement on the scene, and shuddered at the silences. + +"Bard," she called, "what have I done?" + +"You've started a game," he answered, "which I presume we've all been +waiting to play. What about it, boys? I hope you're well paid; I'd hate +to die a cheap death." + +A voice, deep and ringing, sounded close at hand, almost within the +room, and from a direction which Bard could not locate. + +"Don't harm him if you can help it. But keep him in that room!" + +Bard stepped back a pace till his shoulders touched the wall. + +"Sirs," he said, "if you keep me here you will most certainly have to +harm me." + +A figure ran around the edge of the crowd and stood beside him. + +"Stand clear of me, Sally," he muttered, much moved. "Stand away. This +is a man's work." + +"The work of a pack of coyotes!" she cried shrilly. "What d'ye mean?" + +She turned on them fiercely. + +"Are you goin' to murder a tenderfoot among you? One that ain't done no +real harm? I don't believe my eyes. You, there, Shorty Kilrain, I've +waited on you with my own hands. You've played the man with me. Are you +goin' to play the dog now? Jansen, you was tellin' me about a blue-eyed +girl in Sweden; have you forgot about her now? And Calamity Ben! My God, +ain't there a man among you to step over here and join the two of us?" + +They were shaken, but the memory of Drew quelled them. + +"They's no harm intended him, on my honour, Sally," said Lawlor. "All +he's got to do is give up his gun--and--and"--he finished weakly--"let +his hands be tied." + +"Is that all?" said Sally scornfully. + +"Don't follow me, Sally," said Bard. "Stay out of this. Boys, you may +have been paid high, but I don't think you've been paid high enough to +risk taking a chance with me. If you put me out with the first shot that +ends it, of course, but the chances are that I'll be alive when I hit +the floor, and if I am, I'll have my gun working--and I won't miss. One +or two of you are going to drop." + +He surveyed them with a quick glance which seemed to linger on each +face. + +"I don't know who'll go first. But now I'm going to walk straight for +that door, and I'm going out of it." + +He moved slowly, deliberately toward the door, around the table. Still +they did not shoot. + +"Bard!" commanded the voice which had spoken from nowhere before. "Stop +where you are. Are you fool enough to think that I'll let you go?" + +"Are you William Drew?" + +"I am, and you are----" + +"The son of John Bard. Are you in this house?" + +"I am; Bard, listen to me for thirty seconds----" + +"Not for three. Sally, go out of this room and through that door." + +There was a grim command in his voice. It started her moving against her +will. She paused and looked back with an imploring gesture. + +"Go on," he repeated. + +And she passed out of the door and stood there, a glimmering figure +against the night. Still there was not a shot fired, though all those +guns were trained on Bard. + +"You've got me Drew," he called, "but I've got you, and your +hirelings--all of you, and I'm going to take you to hell with me--to +hell!" + +He jerked his gun up and fired, not at a man, for the bullet struck the +thin chain which held the gasoline lamp suspended, struck it with a +clang, and it rushed down to the table. It struck, but not with the loud +explosion which Bard had expected. There was a dull report, as of a shot +fired at a great distance, the scream of Sally from the door, and then +liquid fire spurted from the lamp across the table, whipped in a flare +to the ceiling, and licked against the walls. It shot to all sides but +it shot high, and every man was down on his face. + +Anthony, scarcely believing that he was still alive, rushed for the +door, with a cry of agony ringing in his ears from the voice beyond the +room. One man in all that crowd was near enough or had the courage to +obey the master even to the uttermost. The gaunt form of Calamity Ben +blocked the doorway in front of Bard, blocked it with poised revolver. + +"Halt!" he yelled. + +But the other rushed on. Calamity whipped down the gun and fired, but +even before the trigger was pulled he was sagging toward the floor, for +Bard had shot to kill. Over the prostrate form of the cowpuncher he +leaped, and into the night, where the white face of Sally greeted him. + +Outside the red inferno of that room, as if the taste of blood had +maddened him, he raised his arms and shouted, like one crying a wild +prayer: "William Drew! William Drew! Come out to me!" + +Small, strong hands gripped his wrists and turned him away from the +house. + +"You fool!" cried Sally. "Ride for it! You've raised your hell at +last--I knew you would!" + +Red light flared in all the windows of the dining-room; shouts and +groans and cursing poured out of them. Bard turned and followed her out +toward the stable on the run, and he heard her moaning as she ran: "I +knew! I knew!" + +She mounted her horse, which was tethered near the barn. He chose at +random the first horse he reached, a grey, threw on his back the saddle +which hung from the peg behind, mounted, and they were off through the +night. No thought, no direction; but only in blind speed there seemed to +be the hope of a salvation. + +A mile, two miles dropped behind them, and then in an open stretch, for +he had outridden her somewhat, Anthony reined back, caught the bridle of +her horse, and pulled it down to a sharp trot. + +"Why have you come?" + +Their faces were so close that even through the night he could see the +grim set of her lips. + +"Ain't you raised your hell--the hell you was hungry to raise? Don't you +need help?" + +"What I've done is my own doing. I'll take the burden of it." + +"You'll take a halter for it, that's what you'll take. The whole +range'll rise for this. You're marked already. Everywhere you've gone +you've made an enemy. They'll be out to get you--Nash--Boardman--the +whole gang." + +"Let 'em come. I'd do this all over again." + +"Born gunman, eh? Bard, you ain't got a week to live." + +It was fierceness; it was a reproach rather than sorrow. + +"Then let me go my own way. Why do you follow, Sally?" + +"D'you know these mountains?" + +"No, but----" + +"Then they'd run you down in twelve hours. Where'll you head for?" + +He said, as the first thought entered his mind: "I'll go for the old +house that Drew has on the other side of the range." + +"That ain't bad. Know the short cut?" + +"What cut?" + +"You can make it in five hours over one trail. But of course you don't +know. Nobody but old Dan and me ever knowed it. Let go my bridle and +ride like hell." + +She jerked the reins away from him and galloped off at full speed. He +followed. + +"Sally!" he called. + +But she kept straight ahead, and he followed, shouting, imploring her to +go back. Finally he settled to the chase, resolved on overtaking her. It +was no easy task, for she rode like a centaur, and she knew the way. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +NASH STARTS THE FINISH + +Through the windows and the door the cowpunchers fled from the red +spurt of the flames, each man for himself, except Shorty Kilrain, who +stooped, gathered the lanky frame of Calamity Ben into his arms, and +staggered out with his burden. The great form of William Drew loomed +through the night. + +His hand on the shoulder of Shorty, he cried: "Is he badly burned?" + +"Shot," said Kilrain bitterly, "by the tenderfoot; done for." + +It was strange to hear the big voice go shrill with pain. + +"Shot? By Anthony? Give him to me." + +Kilrain lowered his burden to the ground. + +"You've got him murdered. Ain't you through with him? Calamity, he was +my pal!" + +But the big man thrust him aside and knelt by the stricken cowpuncher. + +He commanded: "Gather the boys; form a line of buckets from the pump; +fight that fire. It hasn't a hold on the house yet." + +The habit of obedience persisted in Kilrain. Under the glow of the fire, +excited by the red light, the other man stood irresolute, eager for +action, but not knowing what to do. A picture came back to him of a ship +labouring in a storm; the huddling men on the deck; the mate on the +bridge, shrieking his orders through a megaphone. He cupped his hands at +his mouth and began to bark orders. + +They obeyed on the run. Some rushed for the kitchen and secured buckets; +two manned the big pump and started a great gush of water; in a moment a +steady stream was being flung by the foremost men of the line against +the smoking walls and even the ceiling of the dining-room. So far it was +the oil itself, which had made most of the flame and smoke, and now, +although the big table was on fire, the main structure of the house was +hardly touched. + +They caught it in time and worked with a cheer, swinging the buckets +from hand to hand, shouting as the flames fell little by little until +the floor of the room was awash, the walls gave back clouds of steam, +and the only fire was that which smouldered along the ruined table. Even +this went out, hissing, at last, and they came back with blackened, +singed faces to Calamity and Drew. + +The rancher had torn away the coat and shirt of the wounded man, and +now, with much labour, was twisting a tight bandage around his chest. At +every turn Calamity groaned feebly. Kilrain dropped beside his partner, +taking the head between his hands. + +"Calamity--pal," he said, "how'd you let a tenderfoot, a damned +tenderfoot, do this?" + +The other sighed: "I dunno. I had him covered. I should have sent him to +hell. But sure shootin' is better'n fast shootin'. He nailed me fair and +square while I was blockin' him at the door." + +"How d'you feel?" + +"Done for, Shorty, but damned glad that-----" + +His voice died away in a horrible whisper and bubbles of red foam rose +to his lips. + +"God!" groaned Shorty, and then called loudly, as if the strength of his +voice might recall the other, "Calamity!" + +The eyes of Calamity rolled up; the wide lips twisted over formless +words; there was no sound from his mouth. Someone was holding a lantern +whose light fell full on the silent struggle. It was Nash, his habitual +sneer grown more malevolent than ever. + +"What of the feller that done it, Shorty?" he suggested. + +"So help me God," said the cattleman, with surprising softness, "the +range ain't big enough to keep him away from me." + +Drew, completing his bandage, said, "That's enough of such talk, Nash. +Let it drop there. Here, Kilrain, take his feet. Help me into the house +with him." + +They moved in, the rest trailing behind like sheep after a bell-weather, +and it was astonishing to see the care with which big Drew handled his +burden, placing it at last on his own four-poster bed. + +"The old man's all busted up," said little Duffy to Nash. "I'd never of +guessed he was so fond of Calamity." + +"You're a fool," answered Nash. "It ain't Calamity he cares about." + +"Then what the devil is it?" + +"I dunno. We're goin' to see some queer things around here." + +Drew, having disposed of the wounded man, carefully raising his head on +a pillow, turned to the others. + +"Who saw Ben shot?" + +"I did," said Kilrain, who was making his way to the door. + +"Come back here. Are you sure you saw the shot fired?" + +"I seen the tenderfoot--damn his eyes!--whip up his gun and take a snap +shot while he was runnin' for the door where Calamity stood." + +Nash raised his lantern high, so that the light fell full on the face of +Drew. The rancher was more grey than ever. + +He said, with almost an appeal in his voice: "Mightn't it have been one +of the other boys, shooting at random?" + +The tone of Kilrain raised and grew ugly. + +"Are you tryin' to cover the tenderfoot, Drew?" + +The big man made a fierce gesture. + +"Why should I cover him?" + +"Because you been actin' damned queer," answered Nash. + +"Ah, you're here again, Nash? I know you hate Bard because he was too +much for you." + +"He got the start of me, but I'll do a lot of finishing." + +"Kilrain," called Drew, "you're Calamity's best friend. Ride for Eldara +and bring back Dr. Young. Quick! We're going to pull Ben through." + +"Jest a waste of time," said Nash coolly. "He's got one foot in hell +already." + +"You've said too much, Nash. Kilrain, are you going?" + +"I'll stop for the doctor at Eldara, but then I'll keep on riding." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothin'." + +"I'll go with you," said Nash, and turned with the other. + +"Stop!" called Drew. "Boys, I know what you have planned; but let the +law take care of this. Remember that we were the aggressors against +young Bard. He came peaceably into this house and I tried to hold him +here. What would you have done in his place?" + +"They's a dozen men know how peaceable he is," said Nash drily. +"Wherever he's gone on the range he's raised hell. He's cut out for a +killer, and Glendin in Eldara knows it." + +"I'll talk to Glendin. In the meantime you fellows keep your hands off +Bard. In the first place because if you take the law into your own hands +you'll have me against you--understand?" + +Kilrain and Nash glowered at him a moment, and then backed through the +door. + +As they hurried for the barn Kilrain asked: "What makes the chief act +soft to that hell-raiser?" + +"If you have a feller cut out for your own meat," answered Nash, "d'you +want to have any one else step in and take your meal away?" + +"But you and me, Steve, we'll get this bird." + +"We'll get Glendin behind us first." + +"Why him?" + +"Play safe. Glendin can swear us in as deputies to--'apprehend,' as he +calls it, this Bard. Apprehendin' a feller like Bard simply means to +shoot him down and ask him to come along afterward, see?" + +"Nash, you got a great head. You ought to be one of these lawyers. There +ain't nothin' you can't find a way out of. But will Glendin do it?" + +"He'll do what I ask him to do." + +"Friend of yours?" + +"Better'n a friend." + +"Got something on him?" + +"These here questions, they ain't polite, Shorty," grinned Nash. + +"All right. You do the leadin' in this game and I'll jest follow suit. +But lay your course with nothin' but the tops'ls flyin', because I've +got an idea we're goin' to hit a hell of a storm before we get back to +port, Steve." + +"For my part," answered Nash, "I'm gettin' used to rough weather." + +They saddled their horses and cut across the hills straight for Eldara. +Kilrain spurred viciously, and the roan had hard work keeping up. + +"Hold in," called Nash after a time. "Save your hoss, Shorty. This ain't +no short trail. D'you notice the hosses when we was in the barn?" + +"Nope." + +"Bard took Duffy's grey, and the grey can go like the devil. +Hoss-liftin'? That's another little mark on Bard's score." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +TO "APPREHEND" A MAN + +As if to make up for its silence of the blast when the two reached it +late the night before, Eldara was going full that evening. Kilrain went +straight for Doc Young, to bring him later to join Nash at the house of +Deputy Glendin. + +The front of the deputy's house was utterly dark, but Nash, unabashed, +knocked loudly on the door, and went immediately to the rear of the +place. He was in time to see a light wink out at an upper window of the +two-story shack. He slipped back, chuckling, among the trees, and waited +until the back door slammed and a dark figure ran noiselessly down the +steps and out into the night. Then he returned, still chuckling, to the +front of the house, and banged again on the door. + +A window above him raised at length and a drawling voice, apparently +overcome with sleep, called down: "What's up in Eldara?" + +Nash answered: "Everything's wrong. Deputy Glendin, he sits up in a back +room playin' poker and hittin' the redeye. No wonder Eldara's goin' to +hell!" + +A muffled cursing rolled down to the cowpuncher, and then a sharp +challenge: "Who's there?" + +"Nash, you blockhead!" + +"Nash!" cried a relieved voice, "come in; confound you. I thought--no +matter what I thought. Come in!" + +Nash opened the door and went up the stairs. The deputy met him, clad in +a bathrobe and carrying a lamp. Under the bathrobe he was fully dressed. + +"Thought your game was called, eh?" grinned the cattleman. + +"Sure. I had a tidy little thing in black-jack running and was pulling +in the iron boys, one after another. Why didn't you tip me off? You +could have sat in with us." + +"Nope; I'm here on business." + +"Let's have it." + +He led the way into a back room and placed the lamp on a table littered +with cards and a black bottle looming in the centre. + +"Drink?" + +"Nope. I said I came on business." + +"What kind?" + +"Bard." + +"I thought so." + +"I want a posse." + +"What's he done?" + +"Killed Calamity Ben at Drew's place, started a fire that near burned +the house, and lifted Duffy's hoss." + +Glendin whistled softly. + +"Nice little start." + +"Sure, and it's just a beginnin' for this Bard." + +"I'll go out to Drew's place and see what he's done." + +"And then start after him with a gang?" + +"Sure." + +"By that time he'll be a thousand miles away." + +"Well?" + +"I'm running this little party. Let me get a gang together. You can +swear 'em in and put me in charge. I'll guarantee to get him before +morning." + +Glendin shook his head. + +"It ain't legal, Steve. You know that." + +"The hell with legality." + +"That's what you say; but I got to hold my job." + +"You'll do your part by goin' to Drew's place with Doc Young. He'll be +here with Shorty Kilrain in a minute." + +"And let you go after Bard?" + +"Right." + +"Far's I know, you may jest shoot him down and then come back and say +you done it because he resisted arrest." + +"Well?" + +"You admit that's what you want, Steve?" + +"Absolute." + +"Well, partner, it can't be done. That ain't apprehendin' a man. It's +jest plain murder." + +"D'you think you could ever catch that bird alive?" + +"Dunno, I'd try." + +"Never in a thousand years." + +"He don't know the country. He'll travel in a circle and I'll ride him +down." + +"He's got somebody with him that knows the country better'n you or me." + +"Who?" + +The face of Nash twisted into an ugly grimace. + +"Sally Fortune." + +"The hell!" + +"It is; but it's true." + +"It ain't possible. Sally ain't the kind to make a fool of herself +about any man, let alone a gun-fighter." + +"That's what I thought, but I seen her back up this Bard ag'in' a +roomful of men. And she'll keep on backin' him till he's got his toes +turned up." + +"That's another reason for you to get Bard, eh? Well, I can't send you +after him, Nash. That's final." + +"Not a bit. I know too much about you, Glendin." + +The glance of the other raised slowly, fixed on Nash, and then lowered +to the floor. He produced papers and Durham, rolled and lighted his +cigarette, and inhaled a long puff. + +"So that's the game, Steve?" + +"I hate to do it." + +"Let that go. You'll run the limit on this?" + +"Listen, Glendin. I've got to get this Bard. He's out-ridden me, +out-shot me, out-gamed me, out-lucked me, out-guessed me--and taken +Sally. He's mine. He b'longs all to me. D'you see that?" + +"I'm only seein' one thing just now." + +"I know. You think I'm double-crossin' you. Maybe I am, but I'm +desperate, Glendin." + +"After all," mused the deputy, "you'd be simply doin' work I'd have to +do later. You're right about this Bard. He'll never be taken alive." + +"Good ol' Glendin. I knew you'd see light. I'll go out and get the boys +I want in ten minutes. Wait here. Shorty and Doc Young will come in a +minute. One thing more: when you get to Drew's place you'll find him +actin' queer." + +"What about?" + +"I dunno why. It's a bad mess. You see, he's after this Bard himself, +the way I figure it, and he wants him left alone. He'd raise hell if he +knew a posse was after the tenderfoot." + +"Drew's a bad one to get against me." + +"I know. You think I'm double-crossin'?" + +"I'll do it. But this squares all scores between us, Steve?" + +"Right. It leaves the debt on my side, and you know I've never dodged an +I.O.U. Drew may talk queer. He'll tell you that Bard done all that work +in self-defence." + +"Did he?" + +"The point is he killed a man and stole a hoss. No matter what comes of +it, he's got to be arrested, don't he?" + +"And shot down while 'resistin' arrest'? Steve, I'd hate to have you out +for me like this." + +"But you won't listen to Drew?" + +"Not this one time. But, Lord, man, I hate to face him if he's on the +warpath. Who'll you take with you?" + +"Shorty, of course. He was Calamity Ben's pal. The rest will be--don't +laugh--Butch Conklin and his gang." + +"Butch!" + +"Hold yourself together. That's what I mean--Butch Conklin." + +"After you dropped him the other night?" + +"Self-defence, and he knows it. I can find Butch, and I can make him go +with me. Besides, he's out for Bard himself." + +The deputy said with much meaning: "You can do a lot of queer things, +Nash." + +"Forget it, Glendin." + +"I will for a while. D'you really think I can let you take out Butch and +his gunmen ag'in' Bard? Why, they're ten times worse'n the tenderfoot." + +"Maybe, but there's nothin' proved ag'in' 'em--nothin' but a bit of +cattle-liftin', maybe, and things like that. The point is, they're all +hard men, and with 'em along I can't help but get Bard." + +"Murder ain't proved on Butch and his men, but it will be before long." + +"Wait till it's proved. In the meantime use em all." + +"You've a long head, Nash." + +"Glendin, I'm makin' the biggest play of my life. I'm off to find Butch. +You'll stand firm with Drew?" + +"I won't hear a word he says." + +"S'long! Be back in ten minutes. Wait for me." + +He was as good as his word. Even before the ten minutes had elapsed he +was back, and behind followed a crew of heavy thumping boots up the +stairs of Glendin's house and into the room where he sat with Dr. Young +and Shorty Kilrain. They rose, but not from respect, when Nash entered +with Conklin and his four ill-famed followers behind. + +The soiled bandage on the head of Butch was far too thick to allow his +hat to sit in its normal position. It was perched high on top, and +secured in place by a bit of string which passed from side to side under +the chin. Behind him came Lovel, an almost albino type with +straw-coloured hair and eyes bleached and passionless; the vacuous smile +was never gone from his lips. + +More feared and more hated than Conklin himself was Isaacs. The latter, +always fastidious, wore a blue-striped vest, without a coat to obscure +it, and about his throat was knotted a flaming vermilion necktie, +fastened in place with a diamond stickpin--obviously the spoil of some +recent robbery. Glendin, watching, ground his teeth. + +McNamara followed. He had been a squatter, but his family had died of a +fever, and McNamara's mind had been unsettled ever since; whisky had +finished the work of sending him on the downward path with Conklin's +little crew of desperadoes. Men shrank from facing those too-bright, +wandering eyes, yet it was from pity almost as much as horror. + +Finally came Ufert. He was merely a round-faced boy of nineteen, proud +of the distinguished bad company he kept. He was that weak-minded type +which is only strong when it becomes wholly evil. With a different +leadership he would have become simply a tobacco-chewing hanger-on at +cross-roads saloons and general merchandise stores. As it was, feeling +dignified by the brotherhood of crime into which he had been admitted as +a full member, and eager to prove his qualifications, he was as +dangerous as any member of the crew. + +The three men who were already in the room had been prepared by Glendin +for this new arrival, but the fact was almost too much for their +credence. Consequently they rose, and Dr. Young muttered at the ear of +Glendin: "Is it possible, Deputy Glendin, that you're going to use these +fellows?" + +"A thief to catch a thief," whispered Glendin in reply. + +He said aloud: "Butch, I've been looking for you for a long time, but I +really never expected to see you quite as close as this." + +"You've said it," grinned Butch, "I ain't been watchin' for you real +close, but now that I see you, you look more or less like a man should +look. H'ware ye, Glendin?" + +He held out his hand, but the deputy, shifting his position, seemed to +overlook the grimy proffered palm. + +"You fellows know that you're wanted by the law," he said, frowning on +them. + +A grim meaning rose in the vacuous eye of Lovel; Isaacs caressed his +diamond pin, smiling in a sickly fashion; McNamara's wandering stare +fixed and grew unhumanly bright; Ufert openly dropped his hand on his +gun-butt and stood sullenly defiant. + +"You know that you're wanted, and you know why," went on Glendin, "but +I've decided to give you a chance to prove that you're white men and +useful citizens. Nash has already told you what we want. It's work for +seven men against one, but that one man is apt to give you all plenty +to do. If you are--successful"--he stammered a little over the right +word--"what you have done in the past will be forgotten. Hold up your +right hands and repeat after me." + +And they repeated the oath after him in a broken, drawling chorus, +stumbling over the formal, legal phraseology. + +He ended, and then: "Nash, you're in charge of the gang. Do what you +want to with them, and remember that you're to get Bard back in town +unharmed--if possible." + +Butch Conklin smiled, and the same smile spread grimly from face to face +among the gang. Evidently this point had already been elucidated to them +by Nash, who now mustered them out of the house and assembled them on +their horses in the street below. + +"Which way do we travel?" asked Shorty Kilrain, reining close beside the +leader, as though he were anxious to disestablish any relationship with +the rest of the party. + +"Two ways," answered Nash. "Of course I don't know what way Bard headed, +because he's got the girl with him, but I figure it this way: if a +tenderfoot knows any part of the range at all, he'll go in that +direction after he's in trouble. I've seen it work out before. So I +think that Bard may have ridden straight for the old Drew place on the +other side of the range. I know a short cut over the hills; we can reach +there by morning. Kilrain, you'll go there with me. + +"It may be that Bard will go near the old place, but not right to it. +Chances may be good that he'll put up at some place near the old +ranchhouse, but not right on the spot. Jerry Wood, he's got a house +about four or five miles to the north of Drew's old ranch. Butch, you +take your men and ride for Wood's place. Then switch south and ride for +Partridge's store; if we miss him at Drew's old house we'll go on and +join you at Partridge's store and then double back. He'll be somewhere +inside that circle and Eldara, you can lay to that. Now, boys, are your +hosses fresh?" + +They were. + +"Then ride, and don't spare the spurs. Hoss flesh is cheaper'n your own +hides." + +The cavalcade separated and galloped in two directions through the town +of Eldara. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +NOTHING NEW + +Glendin and Dr. Young struck out for the ranch of William Drew, but they +held a moderate pace, and it was already grey dawn before they arrived; +yet even at that hour several windows of the house were lighted. They +were led directly to Drew's room. + +The big man welcomed them at the door with a hand raised for silence. He +seemed to have aged greatly during the night, but between the black +shadows beneath and the shaggy brows above, his eyes gleamed more +brightly than ever. About his mouth the lines of resolution were worn +deep by his vigil. + +"He seems to be sleeping rather well--though you hear his breathing?" + +It was a soft, but ominously rattling sound. + +"Through the lungs," said the doctor instantly. + +The cowpuncher was completely covered, except for his head and feet. On +the latter, oddly enough, were still his grimy boots, blackening the +white sheets on which they rested. + +"I tried to work them off--you see the laces are untied," explained +Drew, "but the poor fellow recovered consciousness at once, and +struggled to get his feet free. He said that he wants to die with his +boots on." + +"You tried his pulse and his temperature?" whispered the doctor. + +"Yes. The temperature is not much above normal, the pulse is extremely +rapid and very faint. Is that a bad sign?" + +"Very bad." + +Drew winced and caught his breath so sharply that the others stared at +him. It might have been thought that he had just heard his own death +sentence pronounced. + +He explained: "Ben has been with me a number of years. It breaks me up +to think of losing him like this." + +The doctor took the pulse of Calamity with lightly touching fingers that +did not waken the sleeper; then he felt with equal caution the forehead +of Ben. + +"Well?" asked Drew eagerly. + +"The chances are about one out of ten." + +It drew a groan from the rancher. + +"But there is still some hope." + +The doctor shook his head and carefully unwound the bandages. He +examined the wound with care, and then made a dressing, and recovered +the little purple spot, so small that a five-cent piece would have +covered it. + +"Tell me!" demanded Drew, as Young turned at length. + +"The bullet passed right through the body, eh?" + +"Yes." + +"He ought to have been dead hours ago. I can't understand it. But since +he's still alive we'll go on hoping." + +"Hope?" whispered Drew. + +It was as if he had received the promise of heaven, such brightness fell +across his haggard face. + +"There's no use attempting to explain," answered Young. "An ordinary man +would have died almost instantly, but the lungs of some of these rangers +seem to be lined with leather. I suppose they are fairly embalmed with +excessive cigarette smoking. The constant work in the open air toughens +them wonderfully. As I said, the chances are about one out of ten, but +I'm only astonished that there is any chance at all." + +"Doctor, I'll make you rich for this!" + +"My dear sir, I've done nothing; it has been your instant care that +saved him--as far as he is saved. I'll tell you what to continue doing +for him; in half an hour I must leave." + +Drew smiled faintly. + +"Not till he's well or dead, doctor." + +"I didn't quite catch that." + +"You won't leave the room, Young, till this man is dead or on the way to +recovery." + +"Come, come, Mr. Drew, I have patients who-- + +"I tell you, there is no one else. Until a decision comes in this case +your world is bounded by the four walls of this room. That's final." + +"Is it possible that you would attempt--" + +"Anything is possible with me. Make up your mind. You shall not leave +this man till you've done all that's humanly possible for him." + +"Mr. Drew, I appreciate your anxiety, but this is stepping too far. I +have an officer of the law with me--" + +"Better do what he wants, Doc," said Glendin uneasily. + +"Don't mouth words," ordered Drew sternly. + +"There lies your sick man. Get to work. In this I'm as unalterable as +the rocks." + +"The bill will be large," said Young sullenly, for he began to see that +it was as futile to resist the grey giant as it would have been to +attempt to stop the progress of a landslide. + +"I'll pay you double what you wish to charge." + +"Does this man's life mean so much to you?" + +"A priceless thing. If you save him, you take the burden of murder off +the soul of another." + +"I'll do what I can." + +"I know you will." + +He laid the broad hand on Young's shoulder. "Doctor, you must do more +than you can; you must accomplish the impossible; I tell you, it is +impossible for this man to die; he must live!" + +He turned to Glendin. + +"I suppose you want the details of what happened here?" + +"Right." + +"Follow me. Doctor, I'll be gone only a moment." + +He led the way into an adjoining room, and lighted a lamp. The sudden +flare cast deep shadows on the face leaning above, and Glendin started. +For the moment it seemed to him that he was seeing a face which had +looked on hell and lived to speak of it. + +"Mr. Drew," he said, "you'd better hit the hay yourself; you look pretty +badly done up." + +The other looked up with a singular smile, clenching and unclenching +his fingers as if he strove to relax muscles which had been tense for +hours. + +"Glendin, the surface of my strength has not been scratched; I could +keep going every hour for ten days if it would save the life of the poor +fellow who lies in there." + +He took a long breath. + +"Now, then, let's get after this business. I'll tell you the naked +facts. Anthony Bard was approaching my house yesterday and word of his +coming was brought to me. For reasons of my own it was necessary that I +should detain him here for an uncertain length of time. For other +reasons it was necessary that I go to any length to accomplish my ends. + +"I had another man--Lawlor, who looks something like me--take my place +in the eyes of Bard. But Bard grew suspicious of the deception. Finally +a girl entered and called Lawlor by name, as they were sitting at the +table with all the men around them. Bard rose at once with a gun in his +hand. + +"Put yourself in his place. He found that he had been deceived, he knew +that he was surrounded by armed men, he must have felt like a cornered +rat. He drew his gun and started for the door, warning the others that +he meant to go the limit in order to get free. Mind you, it was no +sudden gun-play. + +"Then I ordered the men to keep him at all costs within the room. He saw +that they were prepared to obey me, and then he took a desperate chance +and shot down the gasoline lamp which hung over the table. In the +explosion and fire which resulted he made for the door. One man blocked +the way, levelled a revolver at him, and then Bard shot in self-defence +and downed Calamity Ben. I ask you, Glendin, is that self defence?" + +The other drummed his finger-tips nervously against his chin; he was +thinking hard, and every thought was of Steve Nash. + +"So far, all right. I ain't askin' your reasons for doin' some pretty +queer things, Mr. Drew." + +"I'll stand every penalty of the law, sir. I only ask that you see that +punishment falls where it is deserved only. The case is clear. Bard +acted in self-defence." + +Glendin was desperate. + +He said at length: "When a man's tried in court they bring up his past +career. This feller Bard has gone along the range raisin' a different +brand of hell everywhere he went. He had a run-in with two gunmen, +Ferguson and Conklin. He had Eldara within an ace of a riot the first +night he hit the town. Mr. Drew, that chap looks the part of a killer; +he acts the part of a killer; and by God, he is a killer." + +"You seem to have come with your mind already made up, Glendin," said +the rancher coldly. + +"Not a bit. But go through the whole town or Eldara and ask the boys +what they think of this tenderfoot. They feel so strong that if he was +jailed they'd lynch him." + +Drew raised a clenched fist and then let his arm fall suddenly limp at +his side. + +"Then surely he must not be jailed." + +"Want me to let him wander around loose and kill another man--in +self-defence?" + +"I want you to use reason--and mercy, Glendin! + +"From what I've heard, you ain't the man to talk of mercy, Mr. Drew." + +The other, as if he had received a stunning blow, slipped into a chair +and buried his face in his hands. It was a long moment before he could +speak, and when his hands were lowered, Glendin winced at what he saw in +the other's face. + +"God knows I'm not," said Drew. + +"Suppose we let the shootin' of Calamity go. What of hoss-liftin', +sir?" + +"Horse stealing? Impossible! Anthony--he could not be guilty of it!" + +"Ask your man Duffy. Bard's ridin' Duffy's grey right now." + +"But Duffy will press no claim," said the rancher eagerly. "I'll see to +that. I'll pay him ten times the value of his horse. Glendin, you can't +punish a man for a theft of which Duffy will not complain." + +"Drew, you know what the boys on the range think of a hoss thief. It +ain't the price of what they steal; it's the low-down soul of the dog +that would steal it. It ain't the money. But what's a man without a hoss +on the range? Suppose his hoss is stole while he's hundred miles from +nowhere? What does it mean? You know; it means dyin' of thirst and goin' +through a hundred hells before the finish. I say shootin' a man is +nothin' compared with stealin' a hoss. A man that'll steal a hoss will +shoot his own brother; that's what he'll do. But I don't need to tell +you. You know it better'n me. What was it you done with your own hands +to Louis Borgen, the hoss-rustler, back ten years ago?" + +A dead voice answered Glendin: "What has set you on the trail of Bard?" + +"His own wrong doin'." + +The rancher waved a hand of careless dismissal. + +"I know you, Glendin," he said. + +The deputy stirred in his chair, and then cleared his throat. + +He said in a rising tone: "What d'you know?" + +"I don't think you really care to hear it. To put it lightly, Glendin, +you've done many things for money. I don't accuse you of them. But if +you want to do one thing more, you can make more money at a stroke than +you've made in all the rest." + +With all his soul the deputy was cursing Nash, but now the thing was +done, and he must see it through. + +He rose glowering on Drew. + +"I've stood a pile already from you; this is one beyond the limit. +Bribery ain't my way, Drew, no matter what I've done before." + +"Is it war, then?" + +And Glendin answered, forcing his tone into fierceness: "Anything you +want--any way you want it!" + +"Glendin," said the other with a sudden lowering of his voice, "has some +other man been talking to you?" + +"Who? Me? Certainly not." + +"Don't lie." + +"Drew, rein up. They's one thing no man can say to me and get away with +it." + +"I tell you, man, I'm holding myself in harder than I've ever done +before. Answer me!" + +He did not even rise, but Glendin, his hand twitching close to the butt +of his gun, moved step by step away from those keen eyes. + +"Answer me!" + +"Nash; he's been to Eldara." + +"I might have known. He told you about this?" + +"Yes." + +"And you're going the full limit of your power against Bard?" + +"I'll do nothin' that ain't been done by others before me." + +"Glendin, there have been cowardly legal murders before. Tell me at +least that you will not send a posse to 'apprehend' Bard until it's +learned whether or not Ben will die--and whether or not Duffy will press +the charge of horse stealing." + +Glendin was at the door. He fumbled behind him, found the knob, and +swung it open. + +"If you double-cross me," said Drew, "all that I've ever done to any man +before will be nothing to what I'll do to you, Glendin." + +And the deputy cried, his voice gone shrill and high, "I ain't done +nothin' that ain't been done before!" + +And he vanished through the doorway. Drew followed and looked after the +deputy, who galloped like a fugitive over the hills. + +"Shall I follow him?" he muttered to himself, but a faint groan reached +him from the bedroom. + +He turned on his heel and went back to Calamity Ben and the doctor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +CRITICISM + +After the first burst of speed, Bard resigned himself to following +Sally, knowing that he could never catch her, first because her horse +carried a burden so much lighter than his own, but above all because the +girl seemed to know every rock and twist in the trail, and rode as +courageously through the night as if it had been broad day. + +She was following a course as straight as a crow's flight between the +ranch of Drew and his old place, a desperate trail that veered and +twisted up the side of the mountain and then lurched headlong down on +the farther side of the crest. Half a dozen times Anthony checked his +horse and shook his head at the trail, but always the figure of the +girl, glimmering through the dusk ahead, challenged and drove him on. + +Out of the sharp descent of the downward trail they broke suddenly onto +the comparatively smooth floor of the valley, and he followed her at a +gallop which ended in front of the old house of Drew. They had been far +less than five hours on the way, yet his long detour to the south had +given him three days of hard riding to cover the same points. His desire +to meet Logan again became almost a passion. He swung to the ground, and +advanced to Sally with his hands outstretched. + +"You've shown me the short cut, all right," he said, "and I thank you a +thousand times, Sally. So-long, and good luck to you." + +She disregarded his extended hand. + +"Want me to leave you here, Bard?" + +"You certainly can't stay." + +She slipped from her horse and jerked the reins over its head. In +another moment she had untied the cinch and drawn off the saddle. She +held its weight easily on one forearm. Actions, after all, are more +eloquent than words. + +"I suppose," he said gloomily, "that if I'd asked you to stay you'd have +ridden off at once?" + +She did not answer for a moment, and he strained his eyes to read her +expression through the dark. At length she laughed with a new note in +her voice that drew her strangely close to him. During the long ride he +had come to feel toward her as toward another man, as strong as himself, +almost, as fine a horseman, and much surer of herself on that wild +trail; but now the laughter in an instant rubbed all this away. It was +rather low, and with a throaty quality of richness. The pulse of the +sound was like a light finger tapping some marvellously sensitive chord +within him. + +"D'you think that?" she said, and went directly through the door of the +house. + +He heard the crazy floor creak beneath her weight; the saddle dropped +with a thump; a match scratched and a flight of shadows shook across the +doorway. The light did not serve to make the room visible; it fell +wholly upon his own mind and troubled him like the waves which spread +from the dropping of the smallest pebble and lap against the last shores +of a pool. Dumfounded by her casual surety, he remained another moment +with the rein in the hollow of his arm. + +Finally he decided to mount as silently as possible and ride off through +the night away from her. The consequences to her reputation if they +spent the night so closely together was one reason; a more selfish and +more moving one was the trouble which she gave him. The finding and +disposing of Drew should be the one thing to occupy his thoughts, but +the laughter of the girl the moment before had suddenly obsessed him, +wiped out the rest of the world, enmeshed them hopelessly together in +the solemn net of the night, the silence. He resented it; in a vague way +he was angry with Sally Fortune. + +His foot was in the stirrup when it occurred to him that no matter how +softly he withdrew she would know and follow him. It seemed to Anthony +that for the first time in his life he was not alone. In other days +social bonds had fallen very lightly on him; the men he knew were +acquaintances, not friends; the women had been merely border +decorations, variations of light and shadow which never shone really +deep into the stream of his existence; even his father had not been near +him; but by the irresistible force of circumstances which he could not +control, this girl was forced bodily upon his consciousness. + +Now he heard a cheery, faint crackling from the house and a rosy glow +pervaded the gloom beyond the doorway. It brought home to Anthony the +fact that he was tired; weariness went through all his limbs like the +sound of music. Music in fact, for the girl was singing softly--to +herself. + +He took his foot from the stirrup, unsaddled, and carried the saddle +into the room. He found Sally crouched at the fire and piling bits of +wood on the rising flame. Her face was squinted to avoid the smoke, and +she sheltered her eyes with one hand. At his coming she smiled briefly +up at him and turned immediately back to the fire. The silence of that +smile brought their comradeship sharply home to him. It was as if she +understood his weariness and knew that the fire was infinitely +comforting. Anthony frowned; he did not wish to be understood. It was +irritating--indelicate. + +He sat on one of the bunks, and when she took her place on the other he +studied her covertly, with side glances, for he was beginning to feel +strangely self-conscious. It was the situation rather than the girl that +gained upon him, but he felt shamed that he should be so uncertain of +himself and so liable to expose some weakness before the girl. + +That in turn raised a blindly selfish desire to make her feel and +acknowledge his mastery. He did not define the emotion exactly, nor see +clearly what he wished to do, but in a general way he wanted to be +necessary to her, and to let her know at the same time that she was +nothing to him. He was quite sure that the opposite was the truth just +now. + +At this point he shrugged his shoulders, angry that he should have +slipped so easily into the character of a sullen boy, hating a +benefactor for no reason other than his benefactions; but the same +vicious impulse made him study the face of Sally Fortune with an +impersonal, coldly critical eye. It was not easy to do, for she sat with +her head tilted back a little, as though to take the warmth of the fire +more fully. The faint smile on her lips showed her comfort, mingled with +retrospection. + +Here he lost the trend of his thoughts by beginning to wonder of what +she could be thinking, but he called himself back sharply to the +analysis of her features. It was a game with which he had often amused +himself among the girls of his eastern acquaintance. Their beauty, after +all, was their only weapon, and when he discovered that that weapon was +not of pure steel, they became nothing; it was like pushing them away +with an arm of infinite length. + +There was food for criticism in Sally's features. The nose, of course, +was tipped up a bit, and the mouth too large, but Anthony discovered +that it was almost impossible to centre his criticism on either feature. +The tip-tilt of the nose suggested a quaint and infinitely buoyant +spirit; the mouth, if generously wide, was exquisitely made. She was +certainly not pretty, but he began to feel with equal certainty that she +was beautiful. + +A waiting mood came on him while he watched, as one waits through a +great symphony and endures the monotonous passages for the sake of the +singing bursts of harmony to which the commoner parts are a necessary +background. He began to wish that she would turn her head so that he +could see her eyes. They were like the inspired part of that same +symphony, a beauty which could not be remembered and was always new, +satisfying. He could make her turn by speaking, and knowing that this +was so, he postponed the pleasure like a miser who will only count his +gold once a day. + +From the side view he dwelt on the short, delicately carved upper lip +and the astonishingly pleasant curve of the cheek. + +"Look at me," he said abruptly. + +She turned, observed him calmly, and then glanced back to the fire. She +asked no question. + +Her chin rested on her hands, now, so that when she spoke her head +nodded a little and gave a significance to what she said. + +"The grey doesn't belong to you?" + +So she was thinking of horses! + +"Well," she repeated. + +"No." + +"Hoss-lifting," she mused. + +"Why shouldn't I take a horse when they had shot down mine?" + +She turned to him again, and this time her gaze went over him slowly, +curiously, but without speaking she looked back to the fire, as though +explanation of what "hoss-lifting" meant were something far beyond the +grasp of his mentality. His anger rose again, childishly, sullenly, and +he had to arm himself with indifference. + +"Who'd you drop, Bard?" + +"The one they call Calamity Ben." + +"Is he done for?" + +"Yes." + +The turmoil of the scene of his escape came back to him so vividly that +he wondered why it had ever been blurred to obscurity. + +She said: "In a couple of hours we'd better ride on." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +ABANDON + +That was all; no comment, no exclamation--she continued to gaze with +that faint, retrospective smile toward the fire. He knew now why she +angered him; it was because she had held the upper hand from the minute +that ride over the short pass began--he had never once been able to +assert himself impressively. He decided to try now. + +"I don't intend to ride on." + +"Too tired?" + +He felt the clash of her will on his, even like flint against steel, +whenever they spoke, and he began to wonder what spark would start a +fire. It made him think of a game of poker, in a way, for he never knew +what the next instant would place in his hands while the cards of chance +were shuffled and dealt. Tired? There was a subtle, scoffing challenge +hidden somewhere in that word. + +"No, but I don't intend to go any farther from Drew." + +Her smile grew more pronounced; she even looked to him with a frank +amusement, for apparently she would not take him seriously. + +"If I were you, he'd be the last man I'd want to be near." + +"I suppose you would." + +As if she picked up the gauntlet, she turned squarely on the bunk and +faced him. + +"You're going to hit the trail in an hour, understand?" + +It delighted him--set him thrilling with excitement to feel her open +anger and the grip of her will against his; he had to force a frown in +order to conceal a smile. + +"If I do, it will be to ride back toward Drew." + +Her lips parted to make an angry retort, and then he watched her steel +herself with patience, like a mother teaching an old lesson to a child. + +"D'you know what you'd be like, wanderin' around these mountains without +a guide?" + +"Well?" + +"Like a kid in a dark, lonesome room. You'd travel in a circle and fall +into their hands in a day." + +"Possibly." + +She was still patient. + +"Follow me close, Bard. I mean that if you don't do what I say I'll cut +loose and leave you alone here." + +He was silent, enjoying her sternness, glad to have roused her, no +matter what the consequences; knowing that each second heightened the +climax. + +Apparently she interpreted his speechlessness in a different way. She +said after a moment: "That sounds like quittin' cold on you. I won't do +it unless you try some fool thing like riding back toward Drew." + +He waited again as long as he dared, then: "Don't you see that the last +thing I want is to keep you with me?" + +There was no pleasure in that climax. She sat with parted lips, her +hands clasped tightly in her lap, staring at him. He became as vividly +conscious of her femininity as he had been when she laughed in the dark. +There was the same sustained pulsing, vital emotion in this silence. + +He explained hastily: "A girl's reputation is a fragile thing, Sally." + +And she recovered herself with a start, but not before he saw and +understood. It was as if, in the midst of an exciting hand, with the +wagers running high, he had seen her cards and knew that his own hand +was higher. The pleasant sense of mastery made a warmth through him. + +"Meaning that they'd talk about me? Bard, they've already said enough +things about me to fill a book--notes and all, with a bunch of pictures +thrown in. What I can't live down I fight down, and no man never says +the same thing twice about me. It ain't healthy. If that's all that +bothers you, close your eyes and let me lead you out of this mess." + +He hunted about for some other way to draw her out. After all, it was an +old, old game. He had played it before many a time; though the setting +and the lights had been different the play was always the same--a man, +and a woman. + +She was explaining: "And it is a mess. Maybe you could get out after +droppin' Calamity, because it was partly self-defence, but there ain't +nothin' between here and God that can get you off from liftin' a hoss. +No, sir, not even returning the hoss won't do no good. I know! The only +thing is speed--and a thousand miles east of here you can stop ridin'." + +He found the thing to say, and he made his voice earnest and low to give +the words wing and sharpness; it was like the hum of the bow string +after the arrow is launched, so tense was the tremor of his tone. + +"There are two reasons why I can't leave. The first is Drew. I must get +back to him." + +"Why d'you want Drew? Let me tell you, Bard, he's a bigger job than ten +tenderfeet like you could handle. Why, mothers scare their babies asleep +by tellin' of the things that William Drew has done." + +"I can't tell you why. In fact, I don't altogether know the complete why +and wherefore. It's enough that I have to meet him and finish him!" + +Her fingers interlaced and gripped; he wondered at their slenderness; +and leaning back so that his face fell under a slant, black shadow, he +enjoyed the flame of the firelight, turning her brown hair to amber and +gold. White and round and smooth and perfect was the column of her +throat, and it trembled with the stir of her voice. + +"The most fool idea I ever heard. Sounds like something in a dream--a +nightmare. What d'you want to do, Anthony, make yourself famous? You +will be, all right; they'll put up your tombstone by a public +subscription." + +He would not answer, sure of himself; waiting, tingling with enjoyment. + +As he expected, she said: "Go on; is the other reason as good as that +one?" + +Making his expression grim, he leaned suddenly forward, and though the +width of the room separated them, she drew back a little, as though the +shadow of his coming cast a forewarning shade across her. He heard her +breath catch, and as if some impalpable and joyous spirit rushed to meet +and mingle with his, something from her, a spirit as warm as the fire, +as faintly, keenly sweet as an air from a night-dark, unseen garden +blowing in his face. + +"The other reason is you, Sally Fortune. You can't go with me as far as +I must go; and I can't leave you behind." + +Ah, there it was! He had fumbled at the keys of the organ in the dark; +he had spread his fingers amply and pressed down; behold, back from the +cathedral lofts echoed a rising music of surpassing beauty. Like the +organist, he sank back again in the shadow and wondered at the phrase of +melody. Surely he had not created it? Then what? God, perhaps. For her +lips parted to a smile that was suggested rather than seen, a tender, +womanly sweetness that played about her mouth; and a light came in her +eyes that would never wholly die from them. Afterward he would feel +shame for what he had done, but now he was wholly wrapped in the new +thing that had been born in her, like a bird striving to fly in the +teeth of a great storm, and giving back with reeling, drumming wings, a +beautiful and touching sight. + +Her lips framed words that made no sound. Truly, she was making a +gallant struggle. Then she said: "Anthony!" She was pale with the +struggle, now, but she rose bravely to her part. She even laughed, +though it fell short like an arrow dropping in front of the target. + +"Listen, Bard, you make a pretty good imitation of Samson, but I ain't +cut out for any Delilah. If I'm holding you here, why, cut and run and +forget it." + +She drew a long breath and went on more confidently: "It ain't any use; +I'm not cut out for any man--I'd so much rather be--free. I've tried to +get interested in others, but it never works." + +She laughed again, more surely, and with a certain hardness like the +ringing of metal against metal, or the after rhythm from the peal of a +bell. With deft, flying fingers she rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and +sat down cross-legged. + +Through the first outward puff of smoke went these words: "The only +thing that's a woman about me is skirts. That's straight." + +Yet he knew that his power was besieging her on every side. Her power +seemed gone, and she was like a rare flower in the hollow of his hand; +all that he had to do was to close his fingers, and--He despised himself +for it, but he could not resist. Moreover, he half counted on her pride +to make her break away. + +"Then if it's hopeless, Sally Fortune, go now." + +She answered, with an upward tilt of her chin: "Don't be a fool, +Anthony. If I can't be a woman to you, at least I can be a pal--the best +you've had in these parts. Nope, I'll see you through. Better saddle +now--" + +"And start back for Drew?" + +There was the thrust that made her start, as if the knife went through +tender flesh. + +"Are you such a plumb fool as that?" + +"Go now, Sally. I tell you, it's no use. I won't leave the trail of +Drew." + +It was only the outward stretch of her arm, only the extension of her +hand, palm up, but it was as if her whole nature expanded toward him in +tenderness. + +"Oh, Anthony, if you care for me, don't stay in reach of Drew! You're +breaking--" + +She stopped and closed her eyes. + +"Breakin' all the rules, like any tenderfoot would be expected to do." + +She glanced at him, wistful, to see whether or not she had smoothed it +over; his face was a blank. + +"You won't go?" + +"Nope." + +He insisted cruelly: "Why?" + +"Because--because--well, can I leave a baby alone near a fire? Not me!" + +Her voice changed. The light and the life was gone from it, but not all +the music. It was low, a little hoarse. + +"I guess we can stay here tonight without no danger. And in the +morning--well, the morning can take care of itself. I'm going to turn +in." + +He rose obediently and stood at the door, facing the night. From behind +came the rustle of clothes, and the sense of her followed and surrounded +and stood at his shoulder calling to him to turn. He had won, but he +began to wonder if it had not been a Pyrrhic victory. + +At length: "All right, Anthony. It's your turn." + +She was lying on her side, facing the wall, a little heap of clothes on +the foot of her bunk, and the lithe lines of her body something to be +guessed at--sensed beneath the heavy blanket. He slipped into his own +bunk and lay a moment watching the heavy drift of shadows across the +ceiling. He strove to think, but the waves of light and dark blotted +from his mind all except the feeling of her nearness, that indefinable +power keen as the fragrance of a garden, which had never quite become +disentangled from his spirit. She was there, so close. If he called, +she would answer; if she answered------ + +He turned to the wall, shut his eyes, and closed his mind with a Spartan +effort. His breathing came heavily, regularly, like one who slept or one +who is running. Over that sound he caught at length another light +rustling, and then the faint creak as she crossed the crazy floor. He +made his face calm--forced his breath to grow more soft and regular. + +Then, as if a shadow in which there is warmth had crossed him, he knew +that she was leaning above him, close, closer; he could hear her breath. +In a rush of tenderness, he forgot her beauty of eyes and round, strong +throat, and supple body--he forgot, and was immersed, like an eagle +winging into a radiant sunset cloud, in a sense only of her being, quite +divorced from the flesh, the mysterious rare power which made her Sally +Fortune, and would not change no matter what body might contain it. + +It was blindingly intense, and when his senses cleared he knew that she +was gone. He felt as if he had awakened from a night full of dreams more +vivid than life--dreams which left him too weak to cope with reality. + +For a time he dared not move. He was feeling for himself like a man who +fumbles his way down a dark passage dangerous with obstructions. At last +it was as if his hand touched the knob of a door; he swung it open, +entered a room full of dazzling light--himself. He shrank back from it; +closed his eyes against what he might see. + +All he knew, then, was an overpowering will to see her. He turned, inch +by inch, little degree by degree, knowing that if, when he turned, he +looked into her eyes, the end would rush upon them, overwhelm them, +carry them along like straws on the flooding river. At last his head was +turned; he looked. + +She lay on her back, smiling as she slept. One arm hung down from the +bunk and the graceful fingers trailed, palm up, on the floor, curling a +little, as if she had just relaxed her grasp on something. And down past +her shoulder, half covering the whiteness of her arm, fled the torrent +of brown hair, with the firelight playing through it like a sunlit mist. + +He rose, and dressed with a deadly caution, for he knew that he must go +at once, partly for her sake that he must be seen apart from her this +night--partly because he knew that he must leave and never come back. + +He had hit upon the distinctive feature of the girl--a purity as thin +and clear as the air of the uplands in which she drew breath. He stooped +and smoothed down the blankets of his bunk, for no trace of him must be +seen if any other man should come during this night. He would go far +away--see and be seen--apart from Sally Fortune. He picked up his +saddle. + +Before he departed he leaned low above her as she must have done above +him, until the dark shadow of lashes was tremulous against her cheek. +Then he straightened and stole step by step across the floor, to the +door, to the night; all the myriad small white eyes of the heavens +looked down to him in hushed surprise. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +JERRY WOOD + +When he was at the old Drew place before, Logan had told him of Jerry +Wood's place, five miles to the north among the hills; and to this he +now directed his horse, riding at a merciless speed, as if he strove to +gain, from the swift succession of rocks and trees that whirled past +him, new thoughts to supplant the ones which already occupied him. + +He reached in a short time a little rise of ground below which stretched +a darkly wooded hollow, and in the midst the trees gave back from a +small house, a two-storied affair, with not a light showing. He wished +to announce himself and his name at this place under the pretence of +asking harbourage for the brief remainder of the night. The news of what +he had done at Drew's place could not have travelled before him to +Wood's house; but the next day it would be sure to come, and Wood could +say that he had seen Bard--alone--the previous night. It would be a +sufficient shield for the name of Sally Fortune in that incurious +region. + +So he banged loudly at the door. + +Eventually a light showed in an upper window and a voice cried: "Who's +there?" + +"Anthony Bard." + +"Who the devil is Anthony Bard?" + +"Lost in the hills. Can you give me a place to sleep for the rest of the +night? I'm about done up." + +"Wait a minute." + +Voices stirred in the upper part of the house; the lantern disappeared; +steps sounded, descending the stairs, and then the door was unbarred and +held a cautious inch ajar. The ray of light jumped out at Bard like an +accusing arm. + +Evidently a brief survey convinced Jerry Wood that the stranger was no +more than what he pretended. He opened the door wide and stepped back. + +"Come in." + +Bard moved inside, taking off his hat. + +"How'd you happen to be lost in the hills?" + +"I'm a bit of a stranger around here, you see." + +The other surveyed him with a growing grin. + +"I guess maybe you are. Sure, we'll put you up for the night. Where's +your hoss?" + +He went out and raised the lantern above his head to look. The light +shone back from the lustrous wide eyes of the grey. + +Wood turned to Bard. + +"Seems to me I've seen that hoss." + +"Yes. I bought it from Duffy out at Drew's place." + +"Oh! Friend of Mr. Drew?" + +Half a life spent on the mountain-desert had not been enough to remove +from Drew that distinguishing title of respect. The range has more great +men than it has "misters." + +"Not exactly a friend," answered Bard. + +"Sail right. Long's you know him, you're as good as gold with me. Come +on along to the barn and we'll knock down a feed for the hoss." + +He chuckled as he led the way. + +"For that matter, there ain't any I know that can say they're friends to +William Drew, though there's plenty that would like to if they thought +they could get away with it. How's he lookin'?" + +"Why, big and grey." + +"Sure. He never changes none. Time and years don't mean nothin' to Drew. +He started bein' a man when most of us is in short pants; he'll keep on +bein' a man till he goes out. He ain't got many friends--real ones--but +I don't know of any enemies, neither. All the time he's been on the +range Drew has never done a crooked piece of work. Every decent man on +the range would take his word ag'in'--well, ag'in' the Bible, for that +matter." + +They reached the barn at the end of this encomium, and Bard unsaddled +his horse. The other watched him critically. + +"Know somethin' about hosses, eh?" + +"A little." + +"When I seen you, I put you down for a tenderfoot. Don't mind, do you? +The way you talked put me out." + +"For that matter, I suppose I am a tenderfoot." + +"Speakin' of tenderfoots, I heard of one over to Eldara the other night +that raised considerable hell. You ain't him, are you?" + +He lifted the lantern again and fixed his keen eyes on Bard. + +"However," he went on, lowering the lantern with an apologetic laugh, +"I'm standin' here askin' questions and chatterin' like a woman, and +what you're thinkin' of is bed, eh? Come on with me." + +Upstairs in the house he found Bard a corner room with a pile of straw +in the corner by way of a mattress. There he spread out some blankets, +wished his guest a good sleep, and departed. + +Left to himself, Anthony stretched out flat on his back. It had been a +wild, hard day, but he felt not the slightest touch of weariness; all he +wished was to relax his muscles for a few moments. Moreover, he must be +away from the house with the dawn-first, because Sally Fortune might +waken, guess where he had gone, and follow him; secondly because the +news of what had happened at Drew's place might reach Wood at any hour. + +So he lay trying to fight the thought of Sally from his mind and +concentrate on some way of getting back to Drew without riding the +gauntlet of the law. + +The sleep which stole upon him came by slow degrees; or, rather, he was +not fully asleep, when a sound outside the house roused him to sharp +consciousness compared with which his drowsiness had been a sleep. + +It was a knocking at the door, not loud, but repeated. At the same time +he heard Jerry Wood cursing softly in a neighbouring room, and then the +telltale creak of bedsprings. + +The host was rousing himself a second time that night. Or, rather, it +was morning now, for when Anthony sat up he saw that the hills were +stepping out of the shadows of the night, black, ugly shapes revealed by +a grey background of the sky. A window went up noisily. + +"Am I runnin' a hotel?" roared Jerry Wood. "Ain't I to have no sleep no +more? Who are ye?" + +A lowered, muttering voice answered. + +"All right," said Jerry, changing his tone at once. "I'll come down." + +His steps descended the noisy stairs rapidly; the door creaked. Then +voices began again outside the house, an indistinct mumble, rising to +one sharp height in an exclamation. + +Almost at once steps again sounded on the stairs, but softly now. Bard +went quietly to the door, locked it, and stole back to the window. Below +it extended the roof of a shed, joining the main body of the house only +a few feet under his window and sloping to what could not have been a +dangerous distance from the ground. He raised the window-sash. + +Yet he waited, something as he had waited for Sally Fortune to speak +earlier in the night, with a sense of danger, but a danger which +thrilled and delighted him. No game of polo could match suspense like +this. Besides, he would be foolish to go before he was sure. + +The walls were gaping with cracks that carried the sounds, and now he +heard a sibilant whisper with a perfect clearness. + +"This is the room." + +There was a click as the lock was tried. + +"Locked, damn it!" + +"Shut up, Butch. Jerry, have you got a bar, or anything? We'll pry it +down and break in on him before he can get in action." + +"You're a fool, McNamara. That feller don't take a wink to get into +action. Sure he didn't hear you when you hollered out the window? That +was a fool move, Wood." + +"I don't think he heard. There wasn't any sound from his room when I +passed it goin' downstairs. Think of the nerve of this bird comin' here +to roost after what he done." + +"He didn't think we'd follow him so fast." + +But Anthony waited for no more. He slipped out on the roof of the shed, +lowered himself hand below hand to the edge, and dropped lightly to the +ground. + +The grey, at his coming, flattened back its ears, as though it knew that +more hard work was coming, but he saddled rapidly, led it outside, and +rode a short distance into the forest. There he stopped. + +His course lay due north, and then a swerve to the side and a straight +course west for the ranch of William Drew. If the hounds of the law were +so close on his trace, they certainly would never suspect him of +doubling back in this manner, and he would have the rancher to himself +when he arrived. + +Yet still he did not start the grey forward to the north. For to the +south lay Sally Fortune, and at the thought of her a singular hollowness +came about his heart, a loneliness, not for himself, but for her. Yes, +in a strange way all self was blotted from his emotion. + +It would be a surrender to turn back--now. + +And like a defeated man who rides in a lost cause, he swung the grey to +the south and rode back over the trail, his head bowed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +"TODO ES PERDO" + +It was not long after the departure of Bard that Sally Fortune awoke. +For a step had creaked on the floor, and she looked up to find Steve +Nash standing in the centre of the room with the firelight gloomily +about him; behind, blocking the door with his squat figure, stood Shorty +Kilrain. + +"Where's your side-kicker?" asked Nash. "Where's Bard?" + +And looking across the room, she saw that the other bunk was empty. She +raised her arms quickly, as if to stifle a yawn, and sat up in the bunk, +holding the blanket close about her shoulders. The face she showed to +Nash was calmly contemptuous. + +"The bird seems to be flown, eh?" she queried. + +"Where is he?" he repeated, and made a step nearer. + +She knew at last that her power over him as a woman was gone; she caught +the danger of his tone, saw it in the steadiness of the eyes he fixed +upon her. Behind was a great, vague feeling of loss, the old hollowness +about the heart. It made her reckless of consequences; and when Nash +asked, "Is he hangin' around behind the corner, maybe?" she cried: + +"If he was that close you'd have sense enough to run, Steve." + +The snarl of Nash showed his teeth. + +"Out with it. The tenderfoot ain't left his woman fur away. Where's he +gone? Who's he gone to shoot in the back? Where's the hoss he started +out to rustle?" + +"Kind of peeved, Nash, eh?" + +One step more he made, towering above her. + +"I've done bein' polite, Sally. I've asked you a question." + +"And I've answered you: I don't know." + +"Sally, I'm patient; I don't mean no wrong to you. What you've been to +me I'm goin' to bust myself tryin' to forget; but don't lie to me now." + +Such a far greater woe kept up a throbbing ache in the hollow of her +throat that now she laughed, laughed slowly, deliberately. He leaned, +caught her wrist in a crushing pressure. + +"You demon; you she-devil!" + +She whirled out of the bunk, the blanket caught about her like the toga +of some ancient Roman girl; and as she moved she had swept up something +heavy and bright from the floor. + +All this, and still his grip was on her left arm. + +"Drop your hand, Nash." + +With a falling of the heart, she knew that he did not fear her gun; +instead, a light of pleasure gleamed in his eyes and his lower jaw +thrust out. + +She would never forget his face as he looked that moment. + +"Will you tell me?" + +"I'll see you in hell first." + +By that wrist he drew her resistlessly toward him, and his other arm +went about her and crushed her close; hate, shame, rage, love were in +the contorted face above her. She pressed the muzzle of her revolver +against his side. + +"You're in beckoning distance of that hell, Steve!" + +"You she-wolf--shoot and be damned! I'd live long enough to strangle +you." + +"You know me, Steve; don't be a fool." + +"Know you? Nobody knows you. And God Almighty, Sally, I love you worse'n +ever; love the very way you hate me. Come here!" + +He jerked her closer still, leaned; and she remembered then that +Anthony had never kissed her. She said: + +"You're safe; you know he can't see you." + +He threw her from him and stood snarling like a dog growling for the +bone it fears to touch because there may be poison in the taste--a +starving dog, and a bone full of toothsome marrow which has only to be +crushed in order that it may be enjoyed. + +"I'm wishin' nothin' more than that he could see me." + +"Then you're a worse fool than I took you for, Steve. You know he'd go +through ten like you." + +"There ain't no man has gone through me yet." + +"But he would. You know it. He's not stronger, maybe not so strong. But +he was born to win, Steve; he's like--he's like Drew, in a way. He can't +fail." + +"If I wrung that throat of yours," he said, "I know I couldn't get out +of you where he's gone." + +"Because I don't know, you see." + +"Don't know?" + +"He's given me the slip." + +"You!" + +"Funny, ain't it? But he has. Thought I couldn't ride fast enough to +keep up with him, maybe. He's gone on east, of course." + +"That's another lie." + +"Well, you know." + +"I do." + +His voice changed. + +"Has he really beat it away from you, Sally?" + +She watched him with a strange, sneering smile. Then she stepped close. + +"Lean your ear down to me, Steve." + +He obeyed. + +"I'll tell you what ought to make you happy. He don't care for me no +more than I care for--you, Steve." + +He straightened again, wondering. + +"And you?" + +"I threw myself at him. I dunno why I'm tellin' you, except it's right +that you should know. But he don't want me; he's gone on without me." + +"An' you like him still?" + +She merely stared, with a sick smile. + +"My God!" he murmured, shaken deep with wonder. "What's he made of?" + +"Steel and fire--that's all." + +"Listen, Sally, forget what I've done, and--" + +"Would you drop his trail, Steve?" + +He cursed through his set teeth. + +"If that's it--no. It's him or me, and I'm sure to beat him out. +Afterwards you'll forget him." + +"Try me." + +"Girls have said that before. I'll wait. There ain't no one but you for +me--damn you--I know that. I'll get him first, and then I'll wait." + +"Ten like you couldn't get him." + +"I've six men behind me." + +She was still defiant, but her colour changed. + +"Six, Sally, and he's out here among the hills, not knowing his right +from his left. I ask you: has he got a chance?" + +She answered: "No; not one." + +He turned on his heel, beckoned to Kilrain, who had stood moveless +through the strange dialogue, and went out into the night. + +As they mounted he said: "We're going straight for the place where I +told Butch Conklin I'd meet him. Then the bunch of us will come back." + +"Why waste time?" + +"Because he's sure to come back. Shorty, after a feller has seen Sally +smile--the way she can smile--he couldn't keep away. I _know_!" + +They rode off at a slow trot, like men who have resigned themselves to a +long journey, and Sally watched them from the door. She sat down, +crosslegged, before the fire, and stirred the embers, and strove to +think. + +But she was not equipped for thinking, all her life had been merely +action, action, action, and now, as she strove to build out some logical +sequence and find her destiny in it, she failed miserably, and fell back +upon herself. She was one of those single-minded people who give +themselves up to emotion rarely, but when they do their whole body, +their whole soul burns in the flame. + +Into her mind came a phrase she had heard in her childhood. On the +outskirts of Eldara there was a little shack owned by a Mexican--Jose, +he was called, and nothing else, "Greaser" Jose. One night an alarm of +fire was given in Eldara, and the whole populace turned out to enjoy the +sight; it was a festival occasion, in a way. It was the house of Greaser +Jose. + +The cowpunchers manned a bucket line, but the source of water was far +away, the line too long, and the flames gained faster than they could be +quenched. All through the work of fire-fighting Greaser Jose was +everywhere about the house, flinging buckets of water through the +windows into the red furnace within; his wife and the two children stood +stupidly, staring, dumb. But in the end, when the fire was towering +above the roof of the house, roaring and crackling, the Mexican suddenly +raised a long arm and called to the bucket line, "It is done. Senors, I +thank you." + +Then he had folded his arms and repeated in a monotone, over and over +again: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo_!" + +His wife came to him, frantic, wailing, and threw her arms around his +neck. He merely repeated with heavy monotony: "_Todo es perdo; todo es +perdo_!" + +The phrase clung in the mind of the girl; and she rose at last and went +back to her bunk, repeating: "_Todo es perdo; todo es perdo! All is +lost; all is lost_!" + +No tears were in her eyes; they were wide and solemn, looking up to the +shadows of the ceiling, and so she went to sleep with the solemn Spanish +phrase echoing through her whole being: "_Todo es perdo_!" + +She woke with the smell of frying bacon pungent in her nostrils. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +BACON + +The savour of roasting chicken, that first delicious burst of aroma when +the oven door is opened, would tempt an angel from heaven down to the +lowly earth. A Southerner declares that his nostrils can detect at a +prodigious distance the cooking of "possum and taters." A Kanaka has a +cosmopolitan appetite, but the fragrance which moves him most nearly is +the scent of fish baking in Ti leaves. A Frenchman waits unmoved until +the perfume of some rich lamb ragout, an air laden with spices, is +wafted toward him. + +Every man and every nation has a special dish, in general; there is only +one whose appeal is universal. It is not for any class or nation; it is +primarily for "the hungry man," no matter what has given him an +appetite. It may be that he has pushed a pen all day, or reckoned up +vast columns, or wielded a sledge-hammer, or ridden a wild horse from +morning to night; but the savour of peculiar excellence to the nostrils +of this universal hungry man is the smell of frying bacon. + +A keen appetite is even stronger than sorrow, and when Sally Fortune +awoke with that strong perfume in her nostrils, she sat straight up +among the blankets, startled as the cavalry horse by the sound of the +trumpet. What she saw was Anthony Bard kneeling by the coals of the fire +over which steamed a coffee-pot on one side and a pan of crisping bacon +on the other. + +The vision shook her so that she rubbed her eyes and stared again to +make sure. It did not seem possible that she had actually wakened during +the night and found him gone, and with this reality before her she was +strongly tempted to believe that the coming of Nash was only a vivid +dream. + +"Morning, Anthony." + +He turned his head quickly and smiled to her. + +"Hello, Sally." + +He was back at once, turning the bacon, which was done on the first +side. Seeing that his back was turned, she dressed quickly. + +"How'd you sleep?" + +"Well." + +"Where?" + +He turned more slowly this time. + +"You woke up in the middle of the night?" + +"Yes." + +"What wakened you?" + +"Nash and Kilrain." + +He sighed: "I wish I'd been here." + +She answered: "I'll wash up; we'll eat; and then off on the trail. I've +an idea that the two will be back, and they'll have more men behind +them." + +After a little her voice called from the outside: "Anthony, have you had +a look at the morning?" + +He came obediently to the doorway. The sun had not yet risen, but the +fresh, rose-coloured light already swept around the horizon throwing +the hills in sharp relief and flushing, faraway, the pure snows of the +Little Brothers. And so blinding was the sheen of the lake that it +seemed at first as though the sun were about to break from the waters, +for there all the radiance of the sunrise was reflected, concentrated. + +Looking in this manner from the doorway, with the water on either side +and straight ahead, and the dark, narrow point of land cutting that +colour like a prow, it seemed to Anthony almost as if he stood on the +bridge of a ship which in another moment would gather head and sail out +toward the sea of fresh beauty beyond the peaks, for the old house of +William Drew stood on a small peninsula, thrusting out into the lake, a +low, shelving shore, scattered with trees. + +Where the little tongue of land joined the main shore the ground rose +abruptly into a shoulder of rocks inaccessible to a horse; the entrance +and exit to the house must be on either side of this shoulder hugging +closely the edge of the water. + +Feeling that halo of the morning about them, for a moment Anthony forgot +all things in the lift and exhilaration of the keen air; and he accepted +the girl as a full and equal partner in his happiness, looking to her +for sympathy. + +She knelt by the edge of the water, face and throat shining and wet, her +head bending back, her lips parted and smiling. It thrilled him as if +she were singing a silent song which made the brightness of the morning +and the colour beyond the peaks. He almost waited to see her throat +quiver--hear the high, sweet tone. + +But a scent of telltale sharpness drew him a thousand leagues down and +made him whirl with a cry of dismay: "The bacon, Sally!" + +It was hopelessly burned; some of it was even charred on the bottom of +the pan. Sally, returning on the run, took charge of the cookery and +went about it with a speed and ability that kept him silent; which being +the ideal mood for a spectator, he watched and found himself learning +much. + +Whatever that scene of the night before meant in the small and definite, +in the large and vague it meant that he had a claim of some sort on +Sally Fortune and it is only when a man feels that he has this claim, +this proprietorship, as it were, that he begins to see a woman clearly. + +Before this his observance has been half blind through prejudice either +for or against; he either sees her magnified with adulation, or else the +large end of the glass is placed against his eye and she is merely a +speck in the distance. But let a woman step past that mysterious wall +which separates the formal from the intimate--only one step--at once she +is surrounded by the eyes of a man as if by a thousand spies. So it was +with Anthony. + +It moved him, for instance, to see the supple strength of her fingers +when she was scraping the charred bacon from the bottom of the pan, and +he was particularly fascinated by the undulations of the small, round +wrist. He glanced down to his own hand, broad and bony in comparison. + +It was his absorption in this criticism that served to keep him aloof +from her while they ate, and the girl felt it like an arm pushing her +away. She had been very close to him not many hours before; now she was +far away. She could understand nothing but the pain of it. + +As he finished his coffee he said, staring into a corner: "I don't know +why I came back to you, Sally." + +"You didn't mean to come back when you started?" + +"Of course not." + +She flushed, and her heart beat loudly to hear his weakness. He was +keeping nothing from her; he was thinking aloud; she felt that the bars +between them were down again. + +"In the first place I went because I had to be seen and known by name in +some place far away from you. That was for your sake. In the second +place I had to be alone for the work that lay ahead." + +"Drew?" + +"Yes. It all worked like a charm. I went to the house of Jerry Wood, +told him my name, stayed there until Conklin and several others arrived, +hunting for me, and then gave them the slip." + +She did not look up from her occupation, which was the skilful cleaning +of her gun. + +"It was perfect; the way clear before me; I had dodged through their +lines, so to speak, when I gave Conklin the slip, and I could ride +straight for Drew and catch him unprepared. Isn't that clear?" + +"But you didn't?" + +She was so calm about it that he grew a little angry; she would not look +up from the cleaning of the gun. + +"That's the devil of it; I couldn't stay away. I had to come back to +you." + +She restored the gun to her holster and looked steadily at him; he felt +a certain shock in countering her glance. + +"Because I thought you might be lonely, Sally." + +"I was." + +It was strange to see how little fencing there was between them. They +were like men, long tried in friendship and working together on a great +problem full of significance to both. + +"Do you know what I kept sayin' to myself when I found you was gone?" + +"Well?" + +"Todo es perdo; todo es perdo!" + +She had said it so often to herself that now some of the original +emotion crept into her voice. His arm went out; they shook hands across +their breakfast pans. + +She went on: "The next thing is Drew?" + +"Yes." + +"There's no changing you." She did not wait for his answer. "I know +that. I won't ask questions. If it has to be done we'll do it quickly; +and afterward I can find a way out for us both." + +Something like a foreknowledge came to him, telling him that the thing +would never be done--that he had surrendered his last chance of Drew +when he turned back to go to Sally. It was as if he took a choice +between the killing of the man and the love of the woman. But he said +nothing of his forebodings and helped her quietly to rearrange the small +pack. They saddled and took the trail which pointed up over the +mountains--the same trail which they had ridden in an opposite direction +the night before. + +He rode with his head turned, taking his last look at the old house of +Drew, with its blackened, crumbling sides, when the girl cried softly: +"What's that? Look!" + +He stared in the direction of her pointing arm. They were almost +directly under the shoulder of rocks which loomed above the trail along +the edge of the lake. Anthony saw nothing. + +"What was it?" + +He checked his horse beside hers. + +"I thought I saw something move. I'm not sure. And there--back, +Anthony!" + +And she whirled her horse. He caught it this time clearly, the +unmistakable glint of the morning light on steel, and he turned the grey +sharply. At the same time a rattling blast of revolver shots crackled +above them; the grey reared and pitched back. + +By inches he escaped the fall of the horse, slipping from the saddle in +the nick of time. A bullet whipped his hat from his head. Then the hand +of the girl clutched his shoulder. + +"Stirrup and saddle, Anthony!" + +He seized the pommel of the saddle, hooked his foot into the stirrup +which she abandoned to him, and she spurred back toward the old house. + +A shout followed them, a roar that ended in a harsh rattle of curses; +they heard the spat of bullets several times on the trees past which +they whirled. But it was only a second before they were once more in the +shelter of the house. He stood in the centre of the room, stunned, +staring stupidly around him. It was not fear of death that benumbed him, +but a rising horror that he should be so trapped--like a wild beast +cornered and about to be worried to death by dogs. + +As for escape, there was simply no chance--it was impossible. On three +sides the lake, still beautiful, though the colour was fading from it, +effectively blocked their way. On the fourth and narrowest side there +was the shoulder of rocks, not only blocking them, but affording a +perfect shelter for Nash and his men, for they did not doubt that it was +he. + +"They think they've got us," said a fiercely exultant voice beside him, +"but we ain't started to make all the trouble we're goin' to make." + +Life came back to him as he looked at her. She was trembling with +excitement, but it was the tremor of eagerness, not the unmistakable +sick palsy of fear. He drew out a large handkerchief of fine, white +linen and tied it to a long splinter of wood which he tore away from one +of the rotten boards. + +"Go out with this," he said. "They aren't after you, Sally. This is west +of the Rockies, thank God, and a woman is safe with the worst man that +ever committed murder." + +She said: "D'you mean this, Anthony?" + +"I'm trying to mean it." + +She snatched the stick and snapped it into small pieces. + +"Does that look final, Anthony?" + +He could not answer for a moment. At last he said: "What a woman you +would have made for a wife, Sally Fortune; what a fine pal!" + +But she laughed, a mirth not forced and harsh, but clear and ringing. + +"Anthony, ain't this better'n marriage?" + +"By God," he answered, "I almost think you're right." + +For answer a bullet ripped through the right-hand wall and buried itself +in a beam on the opposite side of the room. + +"Listen!" she said. + +There was a fresh crackle of guns, the reports louder and longer drawn. + +"Rifles," said Sally Fortune. "I knew no bullet from a six-gun could +carry like that one." + +The little, sharp sounds of splintering and crunching began everywhere. +A cloud of soot spilled down the chimney and across the hearth. A furrow +ploughed across the floor, lifting a splinter as long and even as if it +had been grooved out by a machine. + +"Look!" said Sally, "they're firin' breast high to catch us standing, +and on the level of the floor to get us if we lie down. That's Nash. I +know his trademark." + +"From the back of the house we can answer them," said Bard. "Let's try +it." + +"Pepper for their salt, eh?" answered Sally, and they ran back through +the old shack to the last room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +LEGAL MURDER + +As Drew entered his bedroom he found the doctor in the act of restoring +the thermometer to its case. His coat was off and his sleeves rolled up +to the elbow; he looked more like a man preparing to chop wood than a +physician engaging in a struggle with death; but Dr. Young had the +fighting strain. Otherwise he would never have persisted in Eldara. + +Already the subtle atmosphere of sickness had come upon the room. The +shades of the windows were drawn evenly, and low down, so that the +increasing brightness of the morning could only temper, not wholly +dismiss the shadows. Night is the only reality of the sick-bed; the day +is only a long evening, a waiting for the utter dark. The doctor's +little square satchel of instruments, vials, and bandages lay open on +the table; he had changed the apartment as utterly as he had changed his +face by putting on great, horn-rimmed spectacles. They gave an owl-like +look to him, an air of omniscience. It seemed as if no mortal ailment +could persist in the face of such wisdom. + +"Well?" whispered Drew. + +"You can speak out, but not loudly," said the doctor calmly. "He's +delirious; the fever is getting its hold." + +"What do you think?" + +"Nothing. The time hasn't come for thinking." + +He bent his emotionless eye closer on the big rancher. + +"You," he said, "ought to be in bed this moment." + +Drew waved the suggestion aside. + +"Let me give you a sedative," added Young. + +"Nonsense. I'm going to stay here." + +The doctor gave up the effort; dismissed Drew from his mind, and focused +his glance on the patient once more. Calamity Ben was moving his head +restlessly from side to side, keeping up a gibbering mutter. It rose now +to words. + +"Joe, a mule is to a hoss what a woman is to a man. Ever notice? The +difference ain't so much in what they do as what they don't do. Me +speakin' personal, I'll take a lot from any hoss and lay it to jest +plain spirit; but a mule can make me mad by standin' still and doin' +nothing but wablin' them long ears as if it understood things it wasn't +goin' to speak about. Y' always feel around a mule as if it knew +somethin' about you--had somethin' on you--and was laughin' soft and +deep inside. Damn a mule! I remember--" + +But here he sank into the steady, voiceless whisper again, the shadow of +a sound rather than the reality. It was ghostly to hear, even by +daylight. + +"Will it keep up long?" asked Drew. + +"Maybe until he dies." + +"I've told you before; it's impossible for him to die." + +The doctor made a gesture of resignation. + +He explained: "As long as this fever grows our man will steadily weaken; +it shows that he's on the downward path. If it breaks--why, that means +that he will have a chance--more than a chance--to get well. It will +mean that he has enough reserve strength to fight off the shock of the +wound and survive the loss of the blood." + +"It will mean," said Drew, apparently thinking aloud, "that the guilt of +murder does not fall on Anthony." + +"Who is Anthony?" + +The wounded man broke in; his voice rose high and sharp: "Halt!" + +He went on, in a sighing mumble: "Shorty--help--I'm done for!" + +"The shooting," said the doctor, who had kept his fingers on the wrist +of his patient; "I could feel his pulse leap and stop when he said +that." + +"He said 'halt!' first; a very clear sign that he tried to stop Bard +before Bard shot. Doctor, you're witness to that?" + +He had grown deeply excited. + +"I'm witness to nothing. I never dreamed that you could be so interested +in any human being." + +He nodded to himself. + +"Do you know how I explained your greyness to myself? As that of a man +ennuied with life--tired of living because he had nothing in the world +to occupy his affections. And here I find you so far from being ennuied +that you are using your whole strength to keep the guilt of murder away +from another man. It's amazing. The boys will never believe it." + +He continued: "A man who raised a riot in your own house, almost burned +down your place, shot your man, stole a horse--gad, Drew, you are +sublime!" + +But if he expected an explanatory answer from the rancher he was +disappointed. The latter pulled up a chair beside the bed and bent his +stern eyes on the patient as if he were concentrating all of a great +will on bringing Calamity Ben back to health. + +He worked with the doctor. Every half hour a temperature was taken, and +it was going up steadily. Drew heard the report each time with a +tightening of the muscles about his jaws. He helped pack the wounded man +with wet cloths. He ran out and stopped a wrangling noise of the +cowpunchers several times. But mostly he sat without motion beside the +bed, trying to will the sufferer back to life. + +And in the middle of the morning, after taking a temperature, the doctor +looked to the rancher with a sort of dull wonder. + +"It's dropping?" whispered Drew. + +"It's lower. I don't think it's dropping. It can't be going down so +soon. Wait till the next time I register it. If it's still lower then, +he'll get well." + +The grey man sagged forward from his chair to his knees and took the +hands of Calamity, long-fingered, bony, cold hands they were. There he +remained, moveless, his keen eyes close to the wandering stare of the +delirious man. Out of the exhaustless reservoir of his will he seemed to +be injecting an electric strength into the other, a steadying and even +flow of power that passed from his hands and into the body of Calamity. + +When the time came, and Young stood looking down at the thermometer, +Drew lifted haggard eyes, waiting. + +"It's lower!" + +The great arms of the rancher were thrown above his head; he rose, +changed, triumphant, as if he had torn his happiness from the heart of +the heavens, and went hastily from the room, silent. + +At the stable he took his great bay, saddled him, and swung out on the +trail for Eldara, a short, rough trail which led across the +Saverack--the same course which Nash and Bard had taken the day before. + +But the river had greatly fallen--the water hardly washed above the +knees of the horse except in the centre of the stream; by noon he +reached the town and went straight for the office of Glendin. The deputy +was not there, and the rancher was referred to Murphy's saloon. + +There he found Glendin, seated at a corner table with a glass of beer in +front of him, and considering the sun-whitened landscape lazily through +the window. At the sound of the heavy footfall of Drew he turned, rose, +his shoulders flattened against the wall behind him like a cornered man +prepared for a desperate stand. + +"It's all right," cried Drew. "It's all over, Glendin. Duffy won't press +any charges against Bard; he says that he's given the horse away. And +Calamity Ben is going to live." + +"Who says he will?" + +"I've just ridden in from his bedside. Dr. Young says the crisis is +past. And so--thank God--there's no danger to Bard; he's free from the +law!" + +"Too late," said the deputy. + +It did not seem that Drew heard him. He stepped closer and turned his +head. + +"What's that?" + +"Too late. I've sent out men to--to apprehend Bard." + +"Apprehend him?" repeated Drew. "Is it possible? To murder him, you +mean!" + +He had not made a threatening move, but the deputy had his grip on the +butt of his gun. + +"It was that devil Nash. He persuaded me to send out a posse with him in +charge." + +"And you sent him?" + +"What could I do? Ain't it legal?" + +"Murder is legal--sometimes. It has been in the past. I've an idea that +it's going to be again." + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"You'll learn later. Where did they go for Bard?" + +He did not seem disappointed. He was rather like a man who had already +heard bad news and now only finds it confirmed. He knew before. Now the +fact was simply clinched. + +"They went out to your old place on the other side of the range. Drew, +listen to me--" + +"How many went after him?" + +"Nash, Butch Conklin, and five more. Butch's gang." + +"Conklin!" + +"I was in a hole; I needed men." + +"How long have they been gone?" + +"Since last night." + +"Then," said Drew, "he's already dead. He doesn't know the mountains." + +"I give Nash strict orders not to do nothin' but apprehend Bard." + +"Don't talk, Glendin. It disgusts me--makes my flesh crawl. He's alone, +with seven cutthroats against him." + +"Not alone. Sally Fortune's better'n two common men." + +"The girl? God bless her! She's with him; she knows the country. There +may be a hope; Glendin, if you're wise, start praying now that I find +Bard alive. If I don't--" + +The swinging doors closed behind him as he rushed through toward his +horse. Glendin stood dazed, his face mottled with a sick pallor. Then he +moved automatically toward the bar. Murphy hobbled down the length of +the room on his wooden leg and placed bottle and glass before the +deputy. + +"Well?" he queried. + +Glendin poured his drink with a shaking hand, spilling much liquor +across the varnished wood. He drained his glass at a gulp. + +"I dunno; what d'you think, Murphy?" + +"You heard him talk, Glendin. You ought to know what's best." + +"Let's hear you say it." + +"I'd climb the best hoss I owned and start west, and when I come to the +sea I'd take a ship and keep right on goin' till I got halfway around +the world. And then I'd climb a mountain and hire a couple of dead-shots +for guards and have my first night's sleep. After that I'd begin +thinkin' of what I could do to get away from Drew." + +"Murphy," said the other, "maybe that line of talk would sound sort of +exaggerated to some, but I ain't one of them. You've got a wooden leg, +but your brain's sound. But tell me, what in God's name makes him so +thick with the tenderfoot?" + +He waited for no answer, but started for the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +PARTNERS + +If Drew had done hard things in his life, few were more remorseless than +the ride on the great bay horse that day. Starting out, he reckoned +coldly the total strength of the gallant animal, the distance to his old +house, and figured that it was just within possibilities that he might +reach the place before evening. From that moment it was certain that the +horse would not survive the ride. + +It was merely a question as to whether or not the master had so gaged +his strength that the bay would not collapse before even the summit of +the range had been reached. As the miles went by the horse loosened and +extended finely to his work; sweat darkened and polished his flanks; +flecks of foam whirled back and spattered his chest and the legs of his +rider; he kept on; almost to the last the rein had to be drawn taut; to +the very last his heart was even greater than his body. + +Up the steep slopes Drew let the horse walk; every other inch of the +way it was either the fast trot or a swinging gallop, not the +mechanical, easy pace of the cattle-pony, but a driving, lunging speed. +The big hoofs literally smashed at the rocks, and the ringing of it +echoed hollowly along the rock face of the ravine. + +At the summit, for a single moment, like a bird of prey pausing in mid +circle to note the position of the field mouse before it closes wings +and bolts down out of the blue, Drew sat his horse motionless and stared +down into the valleys below until he noted the exact location of his +house--the lake glittered back and up to him in the slant light of the +late afternoon. The bay, such was the violence of its panting, literally +rocked beneath him. + +Then he started the last downward course, sweeping along the treacherous +trail with reckless speed, the rocks scattering before him. When they +straightened out on the level going beneath, the bay was staggering; +there was no longer any of the lilt and ease of the strong horse +running; it was a succession of jerks and jars, and the panting was a +sharper sound than the thunder of the hoofs. His shoulders, his flanks, +his neck--all was foam now; and little by little the proud head fell, +reached out; still he drove against the bit; still the rider had to keep +up the restraining pressure. + +Until at last he knew that the horse was dying on his feet; dying with +each heavy stride it made. Then he let the reins hang limp. It was sad +to see the answer of the bay--a snort, as if of happiness; a pricking of +the ears; a sudden lengthening of stride and quickening; a nobler lift +to the head. + +Past the margin of the lake they swept, crashed through the woods to the +right; and now, very distinctly, Drew heard the heavy drum of firing. He +groaned and drove home the spurs. And still, by some miracle, there was +something left in the horse which responded; not strength, certainly +that was gone long ago, but there was an indomitable spirit bred into it +with its fine blood by gentle care for generations. The going was +heavier among the trees, and yet the bay increased its pace. The crackle +of the rifles grew more and more distinct. A fallen trunk blocked the +way. + +With a snort the bay gathered speed, rose, cleared the trunk with a last +glorious effort, and fell dead on the other side. + +Drew disentangled his feet from the stirrup, raised the head of the +horse, stared an instant into the glazing eyes, and then turned and ran +on among the trees. Panting, dripping with sweat, his face contorted +terribly by his effort, he came at last behind that rocky shoulder +which commanded the approach to the old house. + +He found seven men sheltered there, keeping up a steady, dropping fire +on the house. McNamara sat propped against a rock, a clumsy, dirty +bandage around his thigh; Isaacs lay prone, a stained rag twisted +tightly around his shoulder; Lovel sat with his legs crossed, staring +stupidly down to the steady drip of blood from his left forearm. + +But Ufert, Kilrain, Conklin, and Nash maintained the fight; and Drew +wondered what casualties lay on the other side. + +At his rush, at the sound of his heavy footfall over the rocks, the four +turned with a single movement; Ufert covered him with a rifle, but Nash +knocked down the boy's arm. + +"We've done talkin'; it's our time to listen; understand?" + +Ufert, gone sullen, obeyed. He was at that age between youth and manhood +when the blood, despite the songs of the poets, runs slow, cold; before +the heart has been called out in love, or even in friendship; before +fear or hate or anything saving a deep egoism has possessed the brain. + +He looked about to the others for his cue. What he saw disturbed him. +Shorty Kilrain, like a boy caught playing truant, edged little by little +back against the rock; Butch Conklin, his eyes staring, had grown waxy +pale; Steve Nash himself was sullen and gloomy rather than defiant. + +And all this because of a grey man far past the prime of life who ran +stumbling, panting, toward them. At his nearer approach a flash of +understanding touched Ufert. Perhaps it was the sheer bulk of the +newcomer; perhaps, more than this, it was something of stern dignity +that oppressed the boy with awe. He fought against the feeling, but he +was uneasy; he wanted to be far away from that place. + +Straight upon them the big grey man strode and halted in front of Nash. + +He said, his voice harsh and broken by his running: "I ordered you to +bring him to me unharmed. What does this mean, Nash?" + +The cowpuncher answered sulkily: "Glendin sent us out." + +"Don't lie. You sent yourself and took these men. I've seen Glendin." + +His wrath was tempered with a sneer. + +"But here you are four against one. Go down and bring him out to me +alive!" + +There was no answer. + +"You said you wanted no odds against any one man." + +"When a man and a woman stand together," answered Nash, "they're worse +than a hundred. That devil, Sally Fortune, is down there with him." + +A gun cracked from the house; the bullet chipped the rock with an evil +clang, and the flake of stone whirled through the air and landed at the +feet of Drew. + +"There's your answer," said Nash. "But we've got the rat cornered." + +"Wrong again. Calamity Ben is going to live--" + +A cry of joy came from Shorty Kilrain. + +"Duffy says that he gave his horse away to Bard. Glendin has called back +your posse. Ride, Nash! Or else go down there unarmed and bring Bard up +to me." + +The shadow of a smile crossed the lips of Nash. + +"If the law's done with him, I'm not. I won't ride, and I won't go down +to him. I've got the upper hand and I'm going to hold it." + +"If you're afraid to go down, I will." + +Drew unbuckled his cartridge belt and tossed it with his gun against the +rocks. He drew out a white handkerchief, and holding it above him, at a +full arm's length, he stepped out from the shelter. The others, +gathering at their places of vantage, watched his progress toward the +house. Steve Nash described it to the wounded men, who had dragged +themselves half erect. + +"He's walkin' right toward the house, wavin' the white rag. They ain't +goin' to shoot. He's goin' around the side of the house. He's stopped +there under the trees." + +"Where?" + +"At that grave of his wife under the two trees. He waits there like he +expected Bard to come out to him. And, by God, there goes Bard to meet +him--right out into the open." + +"Steady, Steve! Drop that gun! If you shoot now you'll have Drew on your +head afterward." + +"Don't I know it? But God, wouldn't it be easy? I got him square inside +the sights. Jest press the trigger and Anthony Bard is done for. He +walks up to Drew. He's got no gun on. He's empty-handed jest like Drew. +He's said something short and quick and starts to step across the grave. + +"Drew points down to it and makes an answer. Bard steps back like he'd +been hit across the face and stands there lookin' at the mound. What did +Drew say? I'd give ten years of life to hear that talk! + +"Bard looks sort of stunned; he stands there with a hand shadin' his +eyes, but the sun ain't that bright. Well, I knew nobody could ever +stand up to Drew. + +"The chief is talkin' fast and hard. The young feller shakes his head. +Drew begins talkin' again. You'd think he was pleadin' for his life in +front of a jury that meant him wrong. His hands go out like he was +makin' an election speech. He holds one hand down like he was measurin' +the height of a kid. He throws up his arms again like he'd lost +everything in the world. + +"And now Bard has dropped the hand from his face. He looks sort of +interested. He steps closer to the grave again. Drew holds out both his +arms. By God, boys, he's pleadin' with Bard. + +"And the head of Bard is dropped. How's it goin' to turn out? Drew wins, +of course. There goes Bard's hand out as if it was pulled ag'in' his +will. Drew catches it in both his own. Boys, here's where we grab our +hosses and beat it." + +He turned from the rocks in haste. + +"What d'you mean?" cried Conklin. "Steve, are you goin' to leave us here +to finish the job you started?" + +"Finish it? You fools! Don't you see that Drew and Bard is pals now? If +we couldn't finish Bard alone, how'd we make out ag'in' the two of them? +The game's up, boys; the thing that's left is for us to save our +hides--if we can--before them two start after us. If they do start, then +God help us all!" + +He was already in the saddle. + +"Wait!" called Conklin. "One of 'em's a tenderfoot. The other has left +his gun here. What we got to fear from 'em?" + +And Nash snarled in return: "If there was a chance, don't you think I'd +take it? Don't you see I'm givin' up everythin' that amounts to a damn +with me? Tenderfoot? He may act Eastern and he may talk Eastern, but +he's got Western blood. There ain't no other way of explainin' it. And +Drew? He didn't have no gun when he busted the back of old Piotto. I +say, there's two men, armed or not, and between 'em they can do more'n +all of us could dream of. Boys, are you comin'?" + +They went. The wounded were dragged to their feet and hoisted to their +horses, groaning. At a slow walk they started down through the trees. +Evening fell; the shadows slanted about them. They moved faster--at a +trot--at a gallop. They were like men flying from a certain ruin. Beyond +the margin of the bright lake they fled and lost themselves in the vast, +secret heart of the mountain-desert. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +SALLY WEEPS + +All that day, in a silence broken only by murmurs and side glances, +Anthony and Sally Fortune moved about the old house from window to +window, and from crack to crack, keeping a steady eye on the commanding +rocks above. In one of those murmurs they made their resolution. When +night came they would rush the rocks, storm them from the front, and +take their chance with what might follow. But the night promised to give +but little shelter to their stalking. + +For in the late afternoon a broad moon was already climbing up from the +east; the sky was cloudless; there was a threat of keen, revealing +moonshine for the night. Only desperation could make them attempt to +storm the rock, but by the next morning, at the latest, reinforcements +were sure to come, and then their fight would be utterly hopeless. + +So when the light of the sun mellowed, grew yellow and slant, and the +shadows sloped from tree to tree, the two became more silent still, +drawn and pale of face, waiting. Anthony at a window, Sally at a crack +which made an excellent loophole, they remained moveless. + +It was she who noted a niche which might serve as a loophole for one of +the posse, and she fired at it, aiming low. The clang of the bullet +against rock echoes clearly back to her, like the soft chime of a sheep +bell from the peaceful distance. Then, as if in answer to her shot, +around the edge of the rocks appeared a moving rag of white which grew +into William Drew, bearing above his head the white sign of the truce. + +In her astonishment she looked to Bard. He was quivering all over like a +hound held on a tight leash, with the game in sight, hungry to be +slipped upon it. The edge of his tongue passed across his colourless +lips. He was like a man who long has ridden the white-hot desert and is +now about to drink. There was the same wild gleam in his eyes; his hand +shook with nervous eagerness as he shifted and balanced his revolver. +Listening, in her awe, she heard the sound of his increasing panting; a +sound like the breath of a running man approaching her swiftly. + +She slipped to his side. + +"Anthony!" + +He did not answer; his gun steadied; the barrel began to incline down; +his left eye was squinting. She dropped to her knees and seized his +wrist. + +"Anthony, what are you going to do?" + +"It's Drew!" he whispered, and she did not recognize his voice. "It's +the grey man I've waited for. It's he!" + +In such a tone a dying man might speak of his hope of heaven--seeing it +unroll before him in his delirium. + +"But he's carrying the flag of truce, Anthony. You see that?" + +"I see nothing except his face. It blots out the rest of the world. I'll +plant my shot there--there in the middle of those lips." + +"Anthony, that's William Drew, the squarest man on the range." + +"Sally Fortune, that's William Drew, who murdered my father!" + +"Ah!" she said, with sharply indrawn breath. "It isn't possible!" + +"I saw the shot fired." + +"But not this way, Anthony; not from behind a wall!" + +His emotion changed him, made him almost a stranger to her. He was +shaking and palsied with eagerness. + +"I could do nothing as bad as the crime he has done. For twenty years +the dread of his coming haunted my father, broke him, aged him +prematurely. Every day he went to a secret room and cared for his +revolver--this gun here in my hand, you see? He and I--we were more than +father and son--we were pals, Sally. And then this devil called my +father out into the night and shot him. Damn him!" + +"You've got to listen to me, Anthony--" + +"I'll listen to nothing, for there he is and--" + +She said with a sharp, rising ring in her voice: "If you shoot at him +while he carries that white flag I'll--I'll send a bullet through your +head--that's straight! We got only one law in the mountains, and that's +the law of honour. If you bust that, I'm done with you, Anthony." + +"Take my gun--take it quickly, Sally, I can't trust myself; looking at +him, I can see the place where the bullet should strike home." + +He forced the butt of his revolver into her hands, rose, and stepped to +the door, his hands clasped behind his back. + +"Tell me what he does." + +"He's comin' straight toward us as if he didn't fear nothin'--grey +William Drew! He's not packin' a gun; he trusts us." + +"The better way," answered Bard. "Bare hands--the better way!" + +"He has killed men with those bare hands of his. I can see 'em +clear--great, blunt-fingered hands, Anthony. He's coming around the side +of the house. I'll go into the front room." + +She ran past Anthony and paused in the habitable room, spying through a +crack in the wall. And Anthony stood with his eyes tightly closed, his +head bowed. The image of the leashed hound came more vividly to her when +she glanced back at him. + +"He's walkin' right up the path. There he stops." + +"Where?" + +"Right beside the old grave." + +"Anthony!" called a deep voice. "Anthony, come out to me!" + +He started, and then groaned and stopped himself. + +"Is the sign of the truce still over his head, Sally?" + +"Yes." + +"I daren't go out to him--I'd jump at his throat." + +She came beside him. + +"It means something besides war. I can see it in his face. Pain--sorrow, +Anthony, but not a wish for fightin'." + +From the left side of his cartridge belt a stout-handled, long-bladed +hunting-knife was suspended. He disengaged the belt and tossed it to the +floor. Still he paused. + +"If I go, I'll break the truce, Sally." + +"You won't; you're a man, Anthony; and remember that you're on the +range, and the law of the range holds you." + +"Anthony!" called the deep voice without. + +He shuddered violently. + +"What is it?" + +"It sounds--like the voice of my father calling me! I must go!" + +She clung to him. + +"Not till you're calmer." + +"My father died in my arms," he answered; "let me go." + +He thrust her aside and strode out through the door. + +On the farther side of the grave stood Drew, his grey head bare, and +looking past him Anthony saw the snow-clad tops of the Little Brother, +grey also in the light of the evening. And the trees whose branches +interwove above the grave--grey also with moss. The trees, the mountain, +the old headstone, the man--they blended into a whole. + +"Anthony!" said the man, "I have waited half my life for this!" + +"And I," said Bard, "have waited a few weeks that seem longer than all +my life, for this!" + +His own eager panting stopped him, but he stumbled on: "I have you here +in reach at last, Drew, and I'm going to tear your heart out, as you +tore the heart out of John Bard." + +"Ah, Anthony," said the other, "my heart was torn out when you were +born; it was torn out and buried here." + +And to the wild eyes of Anthony it seemed as if the great body of Drew, +so feared through the mountain-desert, was now enveloped with weakness, +humbled by some incredible burden. + +After that a mist obscured his eyes; he could not see more than an +outline of the great shape before him; his throat contracted as if a +hand gripped him there, and an odd tingling came at the tips of his +fingers. He moved forward. + +"It is more than I dreamed," he said hoarsely, as his foot planted +firmly on the top of the grave, and he poised himself an instant before +flinging himself on the grey giant. "It is more than I dreamed for--to +face you--alone!" + +And a solemn, even voice answered him, "We are not alone." + +"Not alone, but the others are too far off to stop me." + +"Not alone, Anthony, for your mother is here between us." + +Like a fog under a wind, the mist swept from the eyes of Anthony; he +looked out and saw that the face of the grey man was infinitely sad, and +there was a hungry tenderness that reached out, enveloped, weakened him. +He glanced down, saw that his heel was on the mount of the grave; saw +again the headstone and the time-blurred inscription: "Here sleeps Joan, +the wife of William Drew. She chose this place for rest." + +A mortal weakness and trembling seized him. The wind puffed against his +face, and he went staggering back, his hand caught up to his eyes. + +He closed his mind against the words which he had heard. + +But the deep organ voice spoke again: "Oh, boy, your mother!" + +In the stupor which came over him he saw two faces: the stern eyes of +John Bard, and the dark, mocking beauty of the face which had looked +down to him in John Bard's secret room. He lowered his hand from his +eyes; he stared at William Drew, and it seemed to him that it was John +Bard he looked upon. Their names differed, but long pain had touched +them with a common greyness. And it seemed to Anthony that it was only a +moment ago that the key turned in the lock of John Bard's secret room, +the hidden chamber which he kept like Bluebeard for himself, where he +went like Bluebeard to see his past; only an instant before he had +turned the key in that lock, the door opened, and this was the scene +which met his eyes--the grave, the blurred tombstone, and the stern +figure beyond. + +"Joan," he repeated; "your wife--my mother?" + +He heard a sob, not of pain, but of happiness, and knew that the blue +eyes of Sally Fortune looked out to him from the doorway of the house. + +The low voice, hurried now, broke in on him. + +"When I married Joan, John Bard fled from the range; he could not bear +to look on our happiness. You see, I had won her by chance, and he hated +me for it. If you had ever seen her, Anthony, you would understand. I +crossed the mountains and came here and built this house, for your +mother was like a wild bird, Anthony, and I did not dare to let men near +her; then a son was born, and she died giving him birth. Afterward I +lived on here, close to the place which she had chosen herself for rest. +And I was happy because the boy grew every day into a more perfect +picture of his dead mother. + +"One day when he was almost three I rode off through the hills, and when +I came back the boy was gone. I rode with a posse everywhere, hunting +him; aye, Anthony, the trail which I started then I have kept at ever +since, year after year, and here it ends where it began--at the grave of +Joan! + +"Finally I came on news that a man much like John Bard in appearance had +been seen near my house that day. Then I knew it was Bard in fact. He +had seen the image of the woman we both loved in the boy. He was all +that was left of her on earth. After these years I can read his heart +clearly; I know why he took the boy. + +"Then I left this place. I could not bear the sight of the grave; for +she slept in peace, and I lived in hell waiting for the return of my +son. + +"At last I went east; I was at Madison Square Garden and saw you ride. +It was the face of Joan that looked back at me; and I knew that I was +close to the end of the trail. + +"The next night I called out John Bard. He had been in hell all those +years, like me, for he had waited for my coming. He begged me to let +him have you; said you loved him as a father; I only laughed. So we +fought, and he fell; and then I saw you running over the lawn toward us. + +"I remembered Joan, her pride and her fierceness, and I knew that if I +waited a son would kill his father that night. So I turned and fled +through the trees. Anthony, do you believe me; do you forgive me?" + +The memory of the clumsy, hungered tenderness of John Bard swept about +Anthony. + +He cried: "How can I believe? My father has killed my father; what is +left?" + +The solemn voice replied: "Anthony, my son!" + +He saw the great, blunt-fingered hands which had killed men, which were +feared through the length and breadth of the mountain-desert, stretched +out to him. + +"Anthony Drew!" said the voice. + +His hand went out, feebly, by slow degrees, and was caught in a mighty +double clasp. Warmth flowed through him from that grasp, and a great +emotion troubled him, and a voice from deep to deep echoed within +him--the call of blood to blood. He knew the truth, for the hate burned +out in him and left only an infinite sadness. + +He said: "What of the man who loved me? Whom I love?" + +"I have done penance for that death," answered William Drew, "and I +shall do more penance before I die. For I am only your father in name, +but he is the father in your thoughts and in your love. Is it true?" + +"It is true," said Anthony. + +And the other, bitterly: "In his life he was as strong as I; in his +death he is still stronger. It is his victory; his shadow falls between +us." + +But Anthony answered: "Let us go together and bring his body and bury it +at the left side of--my mother." + +"Lad, it is the one thing we can do together, and after that?" + +A plaintive sound came to the ear of Anthony, and he looked down to see +Sally Fortune weeping at the grave of Joan. Better than both the men she +understood, perhaps. In the deep tenderness which swelled through him he +caught a sense of the drift of life through many generations of the past +and projecting into the future, men and women strong and fair and each +with a high and passionate love. + +The men died and the women changed, but the love persisted with the will +to live. It came from a thousand springs, but it rolled in one river to +one sea. The past stood there in the form of William Drew; he and Sally +made the present, and through his love of her sprang the hope of the +future. + +It was all very clear to him. The love of Bard and Drew for Joan Piotto +had not died, but passed through the flame and the torment of the three +ruined lives and returned again with gathering power as the force which +swept him and Sally Fortune out into that river and toward that far-off +sea. The last mist was brushed from his eyes. He saw with a piercing +vision the world, himself, life. He looked to William Drew and saw that +he was gazing on an old and broken man. + +He said to the old man: "Father, she is wiser than us both." + +And he pointed to Sally Fortune, still weeping softly on the grave of +Joan. + +But William Drew had no eye for her; he was fallen into a deep muse over +the blurred inscription on the headstone. He did not even raise his head +when Anthony touched Sally Fortune on the shoulder. She rose, and they +stole back together toward the house. There, as they stood close +together, Sally murmured: "It is cruel to leave him alone. He needs us +now, close to him." + +His hand wandered slowly across her hair, and he said: "Sally, how close +can we ever be to him?" + +"We can only watch and wait and try to understand," murmured Sally +Fortune. + +They were so close to the door of the ruined house, now, that a taint of +burnt powder crept out to them, a small, keen odour, and with a sudden +desire to protect her, he drew her close to him. There was no tensing of +her body when his arm went around her and he knew with a rush of +tenderness how completely, how perfectly she accepted him. Over the hand +which held her he felt soft fingers settle to keep it in its place, and +when he looked down he found that her face was raised, and the eyes +which brooded on him were misty bright, like the eyes of a child when +joy overflows in it, but awe keeps it quiet. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Trailin'!, by Max Brand + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAILIN'! *** + +***** This file should be named 11093.txt or 11093.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/9/11093/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Bill Walker and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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