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+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: 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
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