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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14482 ***
+
+The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+
+A Tale of the Northwest
+
+By RIDGWELL CULLUM
+
+Author of
+
+"The Law Breakers," "The Way of the Strong,"
+"The Watchers of the Plains." Etc.
+
+A.L. BURT COMPANY Publishers  New York
+
+Published by Arrangement with THE PAGE COMPANY
+
+Published August, 1903
+
+
+
+
+TO MY WIFE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAP.                                 PAGE
+
+I THE POLO CLUB BALL      1
+
+II THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES      12
+
+III A BIG GAME OF POKER      24
+
+IV AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH      32
+
+V THE "STRAY" BEYOND THE MUSKEG      45
+
+VI "WAYS THAT ARE DARK"      56
+
+VII ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG      64
+
+VIII TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW      76
+
+IX LABLACHE'S "COUP"      88
+
+X "AUNT" MARGARET REFLECTS      96
+
+XI THE CAMPAIGN OPENS      110
+
+XII LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT      120
+
+XIII THE FIRST CHECK      128
+
+XIV THE HUE AND CRY      138
+
+XV AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS      150
+
+XVI GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION      163
+
+XVII THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY      176
+
+XVIII THE PUSKY      188
+
+XIX LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR      200
+
+XX A NIGHT OF TERROR      210
+
+XXI HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG      219
+
+  XXII THE DAY AFTER      230
+
+ XXIII THE PAW OF THE CAT      243
+
+  XXIV "POKER" JOHN ACCEPTS      253
+
+   XXV UNCLE AND NIECE      261
+
+  XXVI IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX      270
+
+ XXVII THE LAST GAMBLE      279
+
+XXVIII SETTLING THE RECKONING      287
+
+  XXIX THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG      297
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE POLO CLUB BALL
+
+
+It was a brilliant gathering--brilliant in every sense of the word. The
+hall was a great effort of the decorator's art; the people were
+faultlessly dressed; the faces were strong, handsome--fair or dark
+complexioned as the case might be; those present represented the wealth
+and fashion of the Western Canadian ranching world. Intellectually, too,
+there was no more fault to find here than is usual in a ballroom in the
+West End of London.
+
+It was the annual ball of the Polo Club, and that was a social function
+of the first water--in the eyes of the Calford world.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Abbot, it is a matter which is quite out of my province,"
+said John Allandale, in answer to a remark from his companion. He was
+leaning over the cushioned back of the Chesterfield upon which an old
+lady was seated, and gazing smilingly over at a group of young people
+standing at the opposite end of the room. "Jacky is one of those young
+ladies whose strength of character carries her beyond the control of
+mere man. Yes, I know what you would say," as Mrs. Abbot glanced up into
+his face with a look of mildly-expressed wonder; "it is true I am her
+uncle and guardian, but, nevertheless, I should no more dream of
+interfering with her--what shall we say?--love affairs, than suggest
+her incapacity to 'boss' a 'round up' worked by a crowd of Mexican
+greasers."
+
+"Then all I can say is that your niece is a very unfortunate girl,"
+replied the old lady, acidly. "How old is she?"
+
+"Twenty-two."
+
+John Allandale, or "Poker" John as he was more familiarly called by all
+who knew him, was still looking over at the group, but an expression had
+suddenly crept into his eyes which might, in a less robust-looking man,
+have been taken for disquiet--even fear. His companion's words had
+brought home to him a partial realization of a responsibility which was
+his.
+
+"Twenty-two," she repeated, "and not a relative living except a
+good-hearted but thoroughly irresponsible uncle. That child is to be
+pitied, John."
+
+The old man sighed. He took no umbrage at his companion's
+brusquely-expressed estimation of himself. He was still watching the
+group at the other end of the room. His face was clouded, and a keen
+observer might have detected a curious twitching of his bronzed right
+cheek, just beneath the eye. His eyes followed the movement of a
+beautiful girl surrounded by a cluster of men, immaculately dressed,
+bronzed--and, for the most part, wholesome-looking. She was dark, almost
+Eastern in her type of features. Her hair was black with the blackness
+of the raven's wing, and coiled in an ample knot low upon her neck. Her
+features, although Eastern, had scarcely the regularity one expects in
+such a type, whilst her eyes quashed without mercy any idea of such
+extraction for her nationality. They were gray, deeply ringed at the
+pupil with black. They were keen eyes--fathomless in their suggestion of
+strength--eyes which might easily mask a world of good or evil.
+
+The music began, and the girl passed from amidst her group of admirers
+upon the arm of a tall, fair man, and was soon lost in the midst of the
+throng of dancers.
+
+"Who is that she is dancing with now?" asked Mrs. Abbot, presently. "I
+didn't see her go off; I was watching Mr. Lablache standing alone and
+disconsolate over there against the door. He looks as if some one had
+done him some terrible injury. See how he is glaring at the dancers."
+
+"Jacky is dancing with 'Lord' Bill. Yes, you are right, Lablache does
+not look very amiable. I think this would be a good opportunity to
+suggest a little gamble in the smoking-room."
+
+"Nothing of the sort," snapped Mrs. Abbot, with the assurance of an old
+friend. "I haven't half finished talking to you yet. It is a most
+extraordinary thing that all you people of the prairie love to call each
+other by nicknames. Why should the Hon. William Bunning-Ford be dubbed
+'Lord' Bill, and why should that sweet niece of yours, who is the
+possessor of such a charming name as Joaquina, be hailed by every man
+within one hundred miles of Calford as 'Jacky'? I think it is both
+absurd and--vulgar."
+
+"Possibly you are right, my dear lady. But you can never alter the ways
+of the prairie. You might just as well try to stem the stream of our
+Foss River in early spring as try to make the prairie man call people by
+their legitimate names. For instance, do you ever hear me spoken of by
+any other name than 'Poker' John?"
+
+Mrs. Abbot looked up sharply. A malicious twinkle was in her eyes.
+
+"There is reason in your sobriquet, John. A man who spends his substance
+and time in playing that fascinating but degrading game called 'Draw
+Poker' deserves no better title."
+
+John Allandale made a "clucking" sound with his tongue. It was his way
+of expressing irritation. Then he stood erect, and glanced round the
+room in search of some one. He was a tall, well-built man and carried
+his fifty odd years fairly well, in spite of his gray hair and the bald
+patch at the crown of his head. Thirty years of a rancher's life had in
+no way lessened the easy carriage and distinguished bearing acquired
+during his upbringing. John Allandale's face and figure were redolent of
+the free life of the prairie. And although, possibly, his fifty-five
+years might have lain more easily upon him he was a man of commanding
+appearance and one not to be passed unnoticed.
+
+Mrs. Abbot was the wife of the doctor of the Foss River Settlement and
+had known John Allandale from the first day he had taken up his abode on
+the land which afterwards became known as the Foss River Ranch until
+now, when he was acknowledged to be a power in the stock-raising world.
+She was a woman of sound, practical, common sense; he was a man of
+action rather than a thinker; she was a woman whose moral guide was an
+invincible sense of duty; he was a man whose sense of responsibility and
+duty was entirely governed by an unreliable inclination. Moreover, he
+was obstinate without being possessed of great strength of will. They
+were characters utterly opposed to one another, and yet they were the
+greatest of friends.
+
+The music had ceased again and once more the walls were lined with
+heated dancers, breathing hard and fanning themselves. Suddenly John
+Allandale saw a face he was looking for. Murmuring an excuse to Mrs.
+Abbot, he strode across the room, just as his niece, leaning upon the
+arm of the Hon. Bunning-Ford, approached where he had been standing.
+
+Mrs. Abbot glanced admiringly up into Jacky's face.
+
+"A successful evening, Joaquina?" she interrogated kindly.
+
+"Lovely, Aunt Margaret, thanks." She always called the doctor's wife
+"Aunt."
+
+Mrs. Abbot nodded.
+
+"I believe you have danced every dance. You must be tired, child. Come
+and sit down."
+
+Jacky was intensely fond of this old lady and looked upon her almost as
+a mother. Her affection was reciprocated. The girl seated herself and
+"Lord" Bill stood over her, fan in hand.
+
+"Say, auntie," exclaimed Jacky, "I've made up my mind to dance every
+dance on the program. And I guess I sha'n't Waste time on feeding."
+
+The girl's beautiful face was aglow with excitement. Mrs. Abbot's face
+indicated horrified amazement.
+
+"My dear child, don't--don't talk like that. It is really dreadful."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled.
+
+"I'm so sorry, auntie, I forgot," the girl replied, with an irresistible
+smile. "I never can get away from the prairie. Do you know, this evening
+old Lablache made me mad, and my hand went round to my hip to get a grip
+on my six-shooter, and I was quite disappointed to feel nothing but
+smooth silk to my touch. I'm not fit for town life, I guess. I'm a
+prairie girl; you can bet your life on it, and nothing will civilize me.
+Billy, do stop wagging that fan."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled a slow, twinkling smile and desisted. He was a tall,
+slight man, with a faint stoop at the shoulders. He looked worthy of his
+title.
+
+"It is no use trying to treat Jacky to a becoming appreciation of social
+requirements," he said, addressing himself with a sort of weary
+deliberation to Mrs. Abbot. "I suggested an ice just now. She said she
+got plenty on the ranch at this time of year," and he shrugged his
+shoulders and laughed pleasantly.
+
+"Well, of course. What does one want ices for?" asked the girl,
+disdainfully. "I came here to dance. But, auntie, dear, where has uncle
+gone? He dashed off as if he were afraid of us when we came up."
+
+"I think he has set his mind on a game of poker, dear, and--"
+
+"And that means he has gone in search of that detestable man, Lablache,"
+Jacky put in sharply.
+
+Her beautiful face flushed with anger as she spoke. But withal there was
+a look of anxiety in her eyes.
+
+"If he must play cards I wish he would play with some one else," she
+pursued.
+
+"Lord" Bill glanced round the room. He saw that Lablache had
+disappeared.
+
+"Well, you see, Lablache has taken a lot of money out of all of us.
+Naturally we wish to get it back," he said quietly, as if in defense of
+her uncle's doings.
+
+"Yes, I know. And--do you?" The girl's tone was cutting.
+
+"Lord" Bill shrugged. Then,--
+
+"As yet I have not had that pleasure."
+
+"And if I know anything of Lablache you never will," put in Mrs. Abbot,
+curtly. "He is not given to parting easily. The qualification most
+necessary amongst gentlemen in the days of our grandfathers was keen
+gambling. You and John, had you lived in those days, might have aspired
+to thrones."
+
+"Yes--or taken to the road. You remember, even then, it was necessary to
+be a 'gentleman' of the road."
+
+"Lord" Bill laughed in his lazy fashion. His keen gray eyes were half
+veiled with eyelids which, seemed too weary to lift themselves. He was a
+handsome man, but his general air of weariness belied the somewhat eagle
+cast of countenance which was his. Mrs. Abbot, watching him, thought
+that the deplorable lassitude which he always exhibited masked a very
+different nature. Jacky possibly had her own estimation of the man.
+Whatever it was, her friendship for him was not to be doubted, and, on
+his part, he never attempted to disguise his admiration of her.
+
+A woman is often a much keener observer of men than she is given credit
+for. A man is frequently disposed to judge another man by his mental
+talents and his peculiarities of temper--or blatant self-advertisement.
+A woman's first thought is for that vague, but comprehensive trait
+"manliness. She drives straight home for the peg upon which to hang her
+judgment. That is why in feminine regard the bookworm goes to the wall
+to make room for the athlete. Possibly Jacky and Mrs. Abbot had probed
+beneath "Lord" Bill's superficial weariness and discovered there a
+nature worthy of their regard. They were both, in their several ways,
+fond of this scion of a noble house.
+
+"It is all very well for you good people to sit there and lecture--or,
+at least, say 'things,'" "Lord" Bill went on. "A man must have
+excitement. Life becomes a burden to the man who lives the humdrum
+existence of ranch life. For the first few years it is all very well. He
+can find a certain excitement in learning the business. The 'round-ups'
+and branding and re-branding of cattle, these things are
+fascinating--for a time. Breaking the wild and woolly broncho is
+thrilling and he needs no other tonic; but when one has gone through all
+this and he finds that no Broncho--or, for that matter, any other
+horse--ever foaled cannot be ridden, it loses its charm and becomes
+boring. On the prairie there are only two things left for him to
+do--drink or gamble. The first is impossible. It is low, degrading.
+Besides it only appeals to certain senses, and does not give one that
+'hair-curling' thrill which makes life tolerable. Consequently the wily
+pasteboard is brought forth--and we live again."
+
+"Stuff," remarked Mrs. Abbot, uncompromisingly.
+
+"Bill, you make me laugh," exclaimed Jacky, smiling up into his face.
+"Your arguments are so characteristic of you. I believe it is nothing
+but sheer indolence that makes you sit down night after night and hand
+over your dollars to that--that Lablache. How much have you lost to him
+this week?"
+
+"Lord" Bill glanced quizzically down at the girl.
+
+"I have purchased seven evenings' excitement at a fairly reasonable
+price."
+
+"Which means?"
+
+The girl leant forward and in her eyes was a look of anxiety. She meant
+to have the truth.
+
+"I have enjoyed myself."
+
+"But the price?"
+
+"Ah--here comes your partner for the next dance," "Lord" Bill went on,
+still smiling. "The band has struck up."
+
+At that moment a broad-shouldered man, with a complexion speaking loudly
+of the prairie, came up to claim the girl.
+
+"Hallo, Pickles," said Bill, quietly turning upon the newcomer and
+ignoring Jacky's question. "Thought you said you weren't coming in
+to-night?"
+
+"Neither was I," the man addressed as "Pickles" retorted, "but Miss
+Jacky promised me two dances," he went on, in strong Irish brogue; "that
+settled it. How d'ye do, Mrs. Abbot? Come along, Miss Jacky, we're
+losing half our dance."
+
+The girl took the proffered arm and was about to move off. She turned
+and spoke to "Lord" Bill over her shoulder.
+
+"How much?"
+
+Bill shrugged his shoulders in a deprecating fashion. The same gentle
+smile hovered round his sleepy eyes.
+
+"Three thousand dollars."
+
+Jacky glided off into the already dancing throng.
+
+For a moment the Hon. Bunning-Ford and Mrs. Abbot watched the girl as
+she glided in and out amongst the dancers, then, with a sigh, the old
+lady turned to her companion. Her kindly wrinkled old face wore a sad
+expression and a half tender look was in her eyes as they rested upon
+the man's face. When she spoke, however, her tone was purely
+conversational.
+
+"Are you not going to dance?"
+
+"No," abstractedly. "I think I've had enough."
+
+"Then come and sit by me and help to cheer an old woman up."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled as he seated himself upon the lounge.
+
+"I don't think there is much necessity for my cheering influence, Aunt
+Margaret. Amongst your many other charming qualities cheerfulness is not
+the least. Doesn't Jacky look lovely to-night?"
+
+"To-night?--always."
+
+"Yes, of course--but Jacky always seems to surpass herself under
+excitement. One would scarcely expect it, knowing her as we do. But she
+is as wildly delighted with dancing as any miss fresh from school."
+
+"And why not? It is little pleasure that comes into her life. An
+orphan--barely twenty-two--with the entire responsibility of her uncle's
+ranch upon her shoulders. Living in a very hornet's nest of blacklegs
+and--and--"
+
+"Gamblers," put in the man, quietly.
+
+"Yes," Aunt Margaret went on defiantly, "gamblers. With the certain
+knowledge that the home she struggles for, through no fault of her own,
+is passing into the hands of a man she hates and despises--"
+
+"And who by the way is in love with her." "Lord" Bill's mouth was
+curiously pursed.
+
+"What pleasure can she have?" exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, vehemently.
+"Sometimes, much as I am attached to John, I feel as if I should like
+to--to bang him!"
+
+"Poor old John!" Bill's bantering tone nettled the old lady, but she
+said no more. Her anger against those she loved could not last long.
+
+"'Poker' John loves his niece," the man went on, as his companion
+remained silent. "There is nothing in the world he would not do for her,
+if it lay within his power."
+
+"Then let him leave poker alone. His gambling is breaking her heart."
+
+The angry light was again in the old lady's eyes. Her companion did not
+answer for a moment. His lips had assumed that curious pursing. When he
+spoke it was with, great decision.
+
+"Impossible, my dear lady--utterly impossible. Can the Foss River help
+freezing in winter? Can Jacky help talking prairie slang? Can Lablache
+help grubbing for money? Can you help caring for all of our worthless
+selves who belong to the Foss River Settlement? Nothing can alter these
+things. John would play poker on the lid of his own coffin, while the
+undertakers were winding his shroud about him--if they'd lend him a pack
+of cards."
+
+"I believe you encourage him in it," said the old lady, mollified, but
+still sticking to her guns. "There is little to choose between you."
+
+The man shrugged his indolent shoulders. This dear old lady's loyalty to
+Jacky, and, for that matter, to all her friends, pleased while it amused
+him.
+
+"Maybe." Then abruptly, "Let's talk of something else."
+
+At that moment an elderly man was seen edging his way through the
+dancers. He came directly over to Mrs. Abbot.
+
+"It's getting late, Margaret," he said, pausing before her. "I am told
+it is rather gusty outside. The weather prophets think we may have a
+blizzard on us before morning."
+
+"I shouldn't be at all surprised," put in the Hon. Bunning-Ford. "The
+sun-dogs have been showing for the last two days. I'll see what Jacky
+says, and then hunt out old John."
+
+"Yes, for goodness' sake don't let us get caught in a blizzard,"
+exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, fearfully. "If there is one thing I'm afraid of it
+is one of those terrible storms. We have thirty-five miles to go."
+
+The new-comer, Dr. Abbot, smiled at his wife's terrified look, but, as
+he turned to urge Bill to hurry, there was a slightly anxious look on
+his face.
+
+"Hurry up, old man. I'll go and see about our sleigh." Then in an
+undertone, "You can exaggerate a little to persuade them, for the storm
+_is_ coming on and we must get away at once."
+
+A moment or two later "Lord" Bill and Jacky were making their way to the
+smoking-room. On the stairs they met "Poker" John. He was returning to
+the ballroom.
+
+"We were just coming to look for you, uncle," exclaimed Jacky. "They
+tell us it is blowing outside."
+
+"Just what I was coming to tell you, my dear. We must be going. Where
+are the doctor and Aunt Margaret?"
+
+"Getting ready," said Bill, quietly. "Have a good game?"
+
+The old man smiled. His bronzed face indicated extreme satisfaction.
+
+"Not half bad, boy--not half bad. Relieved Lablache of five hundred
+dollars in the last jackpot. Held four deuces. He opened with full on
+aces."
+
+"Poker" John seemed to have forgotten the past heavy losses, and spoke
+gleefully of the paltry five hundred he had just scooped in.
+
+The girl looked relieved, and even the undemonstrative "Lord" Bill
+allowed a scarcely audible sigh to escape him. Jacky returned at once to
+the exigencies of the moment.
+
+"Then, uncle, dear, let us hurry up. I guess none of us want to be
+caught in a blizzard. Say, Bill, take me to the cloak-room, right
+away."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES
+
+
+On the whole, Canada can boast of one of the most perfect health-giving
+climates in the world, despite the two extremes of heat and cold of
+which it is composed. But even so, the Canadian climate is cursed by an
+evil which every now and again breaks loose from the bonds which fetter
+it, and rages from east to west, carrying death and destruction in its
+wake. I speak of the terrible--the raging Blizzard!
+
+To appreciate the panic-like haste with which the Foss River Settlement
+party left the ballroom, one must have lived a winter in the west of
+Canada. The reader who sits snugly by his or her fireside, and who has
+never experienced a Canadian winter, can have no conception of one of
+those dread storms, the very name of which had drawn words of terror
+from one who had lived the greater part of her life in the eastern
+shadow of the Rockies. Hers was no timid, womanly fear for ordinary
+inclemency of weather, but a deep-rooted dread of a life-and-death
+struggle in a merciless storm, than which, in no part of the world, can
+there be found a more fearful. Whence it comes--and why, surely no one
+may say. A meteorological expert may endeavor to account for it, but his
+argument is unconvincing and gains no credence from the dweller on the
+prairies. And why? Because the storm does not come from above--neither
+does it come from a specified direction. And only in the winter does
+such a wind blow. The wind buffets from every direction at once. No snow
+falls from above and yet a blinding gray wall of snow, swept up from the
+white-clothed ground, encompasses the dazed traveller. His arm
+outstretched in daylight and he cannot see the tips of his heavy fur
+mitts. Bitter cold, a hundred times intensified by the merciless force
+of the wind, and he is lost and freezing--slowly freezing to death.
+
+As the sleigh dashed through the outskirts of Calford, on its way to the
+south, there was not much doubt in the minds of any of its occupants as
+to the prospects of the storm. The gusty, patchy wind, the sudden sweeps
+of hissing, cutting snow, as it slithered up in a gray dust in the
+moonlight, and lashed, with stinging force, into their faces, was a sure
+herald of the coming "blizzard."
+
+Bunning-Ford and Jacky occupied the front seat of the sleigh. The former
+was driving the spanking team of blacks of which old "Poker" John was
+justly proud. The sleigh was open, as in Canada all such sleighs are.
+Mrs. Abbot and the doctor sat in a seat with their backs to Jacky and
+her companion, and old John Allandale faced the wind in the back seat,
+alone. Thirty-five miles the horses had to cover before the storm
+thoroughly established itself, and "Lord" Bill was not a slow driver.
+
+The figures of the travellers were hardly distinguishable so enwrapped
+were they in beaver caps, buffalo coats and robes. Jacky, as she sat
+silently beside her companion, might have been taken for an inanimate
+bundle of furs, so lost was she within the ample folds of her buffalo.
+But for the occasional turn of her head, as she measured with her eyes
+the rising of the storm, she gave no sign of life.
+
+"Lord" Bill seemed indifferent. His eyes were fixed upon the road ahead
+and his hands, encased in fur mitts, were on the "lines" with a
+tenacious grip. The horses needed no urging. They were high-mettled and
+cold. The gushing quiver of their nostrils, as they drank in the crisp,
+night air, had a comforting sound for the occupants of the sleigh.
+Weather permitting, those beautiful "blacks" would do the distance in
+under three hours.
+
+The sleigh bells jangled musically in response to the high steps of the
+horses as they sped over the hard, snow-covered trail. They were
+climbing the long slope which was to take them out of the valley
+wherein was Calford situate. Presently Jack's face appeared from amidst
+the folds of the muffler which kept her storm collar fast round her neck
+and ears.
+
+"It's gaining on us, Billy."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+He understood her remark. He knew she referred to the storm. His lips
+were curiously pursed. A knack he had when stirred out of himself.
+
+"We shan't do it."
+
+The girl spoke with conviction.
+
+"No."
+
+"Guess we'd better hit the trail for Norton's. Soldier Joe'll be glad to
+welcome us."
+
+"Lord" Bill did not answer. He merely chirruped at the horses. The
+willing beasts increased their pace and the sleigh sped along with that
+intoxicating smoothness only to be felt when travelling with double
+"bobs" on a perfect trail.
+
+The gray wind of the approaching blizzard was becoming fiercer. The moon
+was already enveloped in a dense haze. The snow was driving like fine
+sand in the faces of the travellers.
+
+"I think we'll give it an hour, Bill. After that I guess it'll be too
+thick," pursued the girl. "What d'you think, can we make Norton's in
+that time--it's a good sixteen miles?"
+
+"I'll put 'em at it," was her companion's curt response.
+
+Neither spoke for a minute. Then "Lord" Bill bent his head suddenly
+forward. The night was getting blacker and it was with difficulty that
+he could keep his eyes from blinking under the lash of the whipping
+snow.
+
+"What is it?" asked Jacky, ever on the alert with the instinct of the
+prairie.
+
+"Some one just ahead of us. The track is badly broken in places. Sit
+tight, I'm going to touch 'em up."
+
+He flicked the whip over the horses' backs, and, a moment later, the
+sleigh was flying along at a dangerous pace. The horses had broken into
+a gallop.
+
+"Lord" Bill seemed to liven up under the influence of speed. The wind
+was howling now, and conversation was impossible, except in short, jerky
+sentences. They were on the high level of the prairie and were getting
+the full benefit of the open sweep of country.
+
+"Cold?" Bill almost shouted.
+
+"No," came the quiet response.
+
+"Straight, down-hill trail. I'm going to let 'em have their heads."
+
+Both of these people knew every inch of the road they were travelling.
+There was no fear in their hearts.
+
+"Put 'em along, then."
+
+The horses raced along. The deadly gray wind had obscured all light. The
+lights of the sleigh alone showed the tracks. It was a wild night and
+every moment it seemed to become worse. Suddenly the man spoke again.
+
+"I wish we hadn't got the others with us, Jacky."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I could put 'em along faster, as it is--" His sentence remained
+unfinished, the sleigh bumped and lifted on to one runner. It was within
+an ace of overturning. There was no need to finish his sentence.
+
+"Yes, I understand, Bill. Don't take too many chances. Ease 'em
+up--some. They're not as young as we are--not the horses. The others."
+
+"Lord" Bill laughed. Jacky was so cool. The word fear was not in her
+vocabulary. This sort of a journey was nothing new to her. She had
+experienced it all before. Possibly, however, her total lack of fear was
+due to her knowledge of the man who, to use her own way of expressing
+things, "was at the business end of the lines." "Lord" Bill was at once
+the finest and the most fearless teamster for miles around. Under the
+cloak of indolent indifference he concealed a spirit of fearlessness and
+even recklessness which few accredited to him.
+
+For some time the two remained silent. The minutes sped rapidly and half
+an hour passed. All about was pitch black now. The wind was tearing and
+shrieking from every direction at once. The sleigh seemed to be the
+center of its attack. The blinding clouds of snow, as they swept up from
+the ground, were becoming denser and denser and offered a fierce
+resistance to the racing horses. Another few minutes and the two people
+on the front seat knew that progress would be impossible. As it was,
+"Lord" Bill was driving more by instinct than by what he could see. The
+trail was obscured, as were all landmarks. He could no longer see the
+horses' heads.
+
+"We've passed the school-house," said Jacky, at last.
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+A strange knowledge or instinct is that of the prairie man or woman.
+Neither had seen the school-house or anything to indicate it. And yet
+they knew they had passed it.
+
+"Half a mile to Trout Creek. Two miles to Norton's. Can you do it,
+Bill?"
+
+Quietly as the words were spoken, there was a world of meaning in the
+question. To lose their way now would be worse, infinitely, than to lose
+oneself in one of the sandy deserts of Africa. Death was in that biting
+wind and in the blinding snow. Once lost, and, in two or three hours,
+all would be over.
+
+"Yes," came the monosyllabic reply. "Lord" Bill's lips were pursed
+tightly. Every now and then he dashed the snow and breath icicles from
+his eyelashes. The horses were almost hidden from his view.
+
+They were descending a steep gradient and they now knew that they were
+upon Trout Creek. At the creek Bill pulled up. It was the first stop
+since leaving Calford. Jacky and he jumped down. Each knew what the
+other was about to do without speaking. Jacky, reins in hand, went round
+the horses; "Lord" Bill was searching for the trail which turned off
+from the main road up the creek to Norton's. Presently he came back.
+
+"Animals all right?"
+
+"Fit as fiddles," the girl replied.
+
+"Right--jump up!"
+
+There was no assisting this girl to her seat. No "by your leave" or
+European politeness. Simply the word of one man who knows his business
+to another. Both were on their "native heath."
+
+Bill checked the horses' impetuosity and walked them slowly until he
+came to the turning. Once on the right road, however, he let them have
+their heads.
+
+"It's all right, Jacky," as the horses bounded forward.
+
+A few minutes later the sleigh drew up at Norton's, but so dark was it
+and so dense the snow fog, that only those two keen watchers on the
+front seat were able to discern the outline of the house.
+
+"Poker" John and the doctor assisted the old lady to alight whilst Jacky
+and "Lord" Bill unhitched the horses. In spite of the cold the sweat was
+pouring from the animals' sides. In answer to a violent summons on the
+storm door a light appeared in the window and "soldier" Joe Norton
+opened the door.
+
+For an instant he stood in the doorway peering doubtfully out into the
+storm. A goodly picture he made as he stood lantern in hand, his rugged
+old face gazing inquiringly at his visitors.
+
+"Hurry up, Joe, let us in," exclaimed Allandale. "We are nearly frozen
+to death."
+
+"Why, bless my soul!--bless my soul! Come in! Come in!" the old man
+exclaimed hastily as he recognized John Allandale's voice. "You out, and
+on a night like this. Bless my soul! Come in! Down, Husky, down!" to a
+bob-tail sheep-dog which bounded forward and barked savagely.
+
+"Hold on, Joe," said "Poker" John. "Let the ladies go in, we must see to
+the horses."
+
+"It's all right, uncle," said Jacky, "we've unhitched 'em. Bill's taken
+'em right away to the stables."
+
+The whole party passed into Joe Norton's sitting-room, where the old
+farmer at once set about kindling, with the aid of some coal-oil, a fire
+in the great box-stove. While his host was busy John took the lantern
+and went to "Lord" Bill's assistance in the stables.
+
+The stove lighted, Joe Norton turned to his guests.
+
+"Bless me, and to think of you, Mrs. Abbot, and Miss Jacky, too. I must
+fetch the o'd 'ooman. Hi, Molly, Molly, bestir yourself, old girl. Come
+on down, an' help the ladies. They've come for shelter out o' the
+blizzard--good luck to it."
+
+"Oh, no, don't disturb her, Joe," exclaimed Mrs. Abbot; "it's really too
+bad, at this unearthly hour. Besides, we shall be quite comfortable here
+by the stove."
+
+"No doubt--no doubt," said the old man, cheerfully, "but that's not my
+way--not my way. Any of you froze," he went on ungrammatically, "'cause
+if so, out you go and thaw it out in the snow."
+
+"I guess there's no one frozen," said Jacky, smiling into the old man's
+face. "We're too old birds for that. Ah, here's Mrs. Norton."
+
+Another warm greeting and the two ladies were hustled off to the only
+spare bedroom the Nortons boasted. By this time "Lord" Bill and "Poker"
+John had returned from the stables. While the ladies were removing their
+furs, which were sodden with the melting snow, the farmer's wife was
+preparing a rough but ample meal of warm provender in the kitchen. Such
+is hospitality in the Far North-West.
+
+When the supper was prepared the travellers sat down to the substantial
+fare. None were hungry--be it remembered that it was three o'clock in
+the morning--but each felt that some pretense in that direction must be
+made, or the kindly couple would think their welcome was insufficient.
+
+"An' what made you venture on the trail on such a night?" asked old
+Norton, as he poured out a joram of hot whiskey for each of the men. "A
+moral cert, you wouldn't strike Foss River in such a storm."
+
+"We thought it would have held off longer," said Dr. Abbot. "It was no
+use getting cooped up in town for two or three days. You know what these
+blizzards are. You may have to do with us yourself during the next
+forty-eight hours."
+
+"It's too sharp to last, Doc," put in Jacky, as she helped herself to
+some soup. Her face was glowing after her exposure to the elements. She
+looked very beautiful and not one whit worse for the drive.
+
+"Sharp enough--sharp enough," murmured old Norton, as if for something
+to say.
+
+"Sharp enough to bring some one else to your hospitable abode, Joe,"
+interrupted "Lord" Bill, quietly; "I hear sleigh bells. The wind's
+howling, but their tone is familiar."
+
+They were all listening now. "Poker" John was the first to speak.
+
+"It's--" and he paused.
+
+Before he could complete his sentence Jacky filled up the missing words.
+
+"Lablache--for a dollar."
+
+There was a moment's silence in that rough homely little kitchen. The
+expression of the faces of those around the board indexed a general
+thought.
+
+Lablache, if it were he, would not receive the cordial welcome which had
+been meted out to the others. Norton broke the silence.
+
+"Dang it! That's what I ses, dang it! You'll pardon me, ladies, but my
+feelings get the better of me at times. I don't like him. Lablache--I
+hates him," and he strode out of the room, his old face aflame with
+annoyance, to discharge the hospitable duties of the prairie.
+
+As the door closed behind him Dr. Abbot laughed constrainedly.
+
+"Lablache doesn't seem popular--here."
+
+No one answered his remark. Then "Poker" John looked over at the other
+men.
+
+"We must go and help to put his horses away."
+
+There was no suggestion in his words, merely a statement of plain facts.
+"Lord" Bill nodded and the three men rose and went to the door.
+
+As they disappeared Jacky turned to Mrs. Norton and Aunt Margaret.
+
+"If that's Lablache--I'm off to bed."
+
+Her tone was one of uncompromising decision. Mrs. Abbot was less
+assured.
+
+"Do you think it polite--wise?"
+
+"Come along, aunt. Never mind about politeness or wisdom. What do you
+say, Mrs. Norton?"
+
+"As you like, Miss Jacky. I must stay up, or--"
+
+"Yes--the men can entertain him."
+
+Just then Lablache's voice was heard outside. It was a peculiar,
+guttural, gasping voice. Aunt Margaret looked doubtfully from Jacky to
+Mrs. Norton. The latter nodded smilingly. Then following Jacky's lead
+she passed up the staircase which led from the kitchen to the rooms
+above. A moment later the door opened and Lablache and the other men
+entered.
+
+"They've gone to bed," said Mrs. Norton, in answer to "Poker" John's
+look of inquiry.
+
+"Tired, no doubt," put in Lablache, drily.
+
+"And not without reason, I guess," retorted "Poker" John, sharply. He
+had not failed to note the other's tone.
+
+Lablache laughed quietly, but his keen, restless eyes shot an unpleasant
+glance at the speaker from beneath their heavy lids.
+
+He was a burly man. In bulk he was of much the same proportions as old
+John Allandale. But while John was big with the weight of muscle and
+frame, Lablache was flabby with fat. In face he was the antithesis of
+the other. Whilst "Poker" John was the picture of florid tanning--While
+his face, although perhaps a trifle weak in its lower formation, was
+bold, honest, and redounding with kindly nature, Lablache's was
+bilious-looking and heavy with obesity. Whatever character was there, it
+was lost in the heavy folds of flesh with which it was wreathed. His
+jowl was ponderous, and his little mouth was tightly compressed, while
+his deep-sunken, bilious eyes peered from between heavy, lashless lids.
+
+Such was Verner Lablache, the wealthiest man of the Foss River
+Settlement. He owned a large store in the place, selling farming
+machinery to the settlers and ranchers about. His business was always
+done on credit, for which he charged exorbitant rates of interest,
+accepting only first mortgages upon crops and stock as security. Besides
+this he represented several of the Calford private banks, which many
+people said were really owned by him, and there was no one more ready to
+lend money--on the best of security and the highest rate of
+interest--than he. Should the borrower fail to pay, he was always
+suavely ready to renew the loan at increased interest--provided the
+security was sound. And, in the end, every ounce of his pound of flesh,
+plus not less than fifty per cent. interest, would come back to him.
+After Verner Lablache had done with him, the unfortunate rancher who
+borrowed generally disappeared from the neighborhood. Sometimes this
+man's victims were never heard of again. Sometimes they were discovered
+doing the "chores" round some obscure farmer's house. Anyway, ranch,
+crops, stock--everything the man ever had--would have passed into the
+hands of the money-lender, Lablache.
+
+Hard-headed dealer--money-grubber--as Lablache was, he had a weakness.
+To look at him--to know him--no one would have thought it, but he had.
+And at least two of those present were aware of his secret. He was in
+love with Jacky. That is to say, he coveted her--desired her. When
+Lablache desired anything in that little world of his, he generally
+secured it to himself, but, in this matter, he had hitherto been
+thwarted. His desire had increased proportionately. He was annoyed to
+think that Jacky had retired at his coming. He was in no way blind to
+the reason of her sudden departure, but beyond his first remark he was
+not the man to advertise his chagrin. He could afford to wait.
+
+"You'll take a bite o' supper, Mr. Lablache?" said old Norton, in a tone
+of inquiry.
+
+"Supper?--no, thanks, Norton. But if you've a drop of something hot I
+can do with that."
+
+"We've gener'ly got somethin' o' that about," replied the old man.
+"Whiskey or rum?"
+
+"Whisky, man, whisky. I've got liver enough already without touching
+rum." Then he turned to "Poker" John.
+
+"It's a devilish night, John, devilish. I started before you. Thought I
+could make the river in time. I was completely lost on the other side of
+the creek. I fancy the storm worked up from that direction."
+
+He lumped into a chair close beside the stove. The others had already
+seated themselves.
+
+"We didn't chance it. Bill drove us straight here," said "Poker" John.
+
+"Guess Bill knew something--he generally does," as an afterthought.
+
+"I know a blizzard when I see it," said Bunning-Ford, indifferently.
+
+Lablache sipped his whisky. A silence fell on that gathering of
+refugees. Mrs. Norton had cleared the supper things.
+
+"Well, if you gents'll excuse me I'll go back to bed. Old Joe'll look
+after you," she said abruptly. "Good-night to you all."
+
+She disappeared up the staircase. The men remained silent for a moment
+or two. They were getting drowsy. Suddenly Lablache set his glass down
+and looked at his watch.
+
+"Four o'clock, gentlemen. I suppose, Joe, there are no beds for us." The
+old farmer shook his head. "What say, John--Doc--a little game until
+breakfast?"
+
+John Allandale's face lit up. His sobriquet was no idle One. He lived
+for poker--he loved it. And Lablache knew it. Old John turned to the
+others. His right cheek twitched as he waited the decision. "Doc" Abbot
+smiled approval; "Lord" Bill shrugged indifferently. The old gambler
+rose to his feet.
+
+"That's all right, then. The kitchen table is good enough for us. Come
+along, gentlemen."
+
+"I'll slide off to bed, I guess," said Norton, thankful to escape a
+night's vigil. "Good-night, gentlemen."
+
+Then the remaining four sat down to play.
+
+The far-reaching consequences of that game were undreamt of by the
+players, except, perhaps, by Lablache. His story of the reason of his
+return to Norton's farm was only partially true. He had returned in the
+hopes of this meeting; he had anticipated this game.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A BIG GAME OF POKER
+
+
+"What about cards?" said Lablache, as the four men sat down to the
+table.
+
+"Doc will oblige, no doubt," Bunning-Ford replied quietly. "He generally
+carries the 'pernicious pasteboards' about with him."
+
+"The man who travels in the West without them," said Dr. Abbot,
+producing a couple of new packs from his pocket, "either does not know
+his country or is a victim of superstition."
+
+No one seemed inclined to refuse the doctor's statement, or enter into a
+discussion upon the matter. Instead, each drew out a small memorandum
+block and pencil--a sure indication of a "big game."
+
+"Limit?" asked the doctor.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders, affectionately shuffling the cards the
+while. He kept his eyes averted.
+
+"What do the others say?"
+
+There was a challenge in Lablache's tone. Bunning-Ford flushed slightly
+at the cheek-bones. That peculiar pursing was at his lips.
+
+"Anything goes with me. The higher the game the greater the excitement,"
+he said, shooting a keen glance at the pasty face of the money-lender.
+
+Old John was irritated. His ruddy face gleamed in the light of the lamp.
+The nervous twitching of the cheek indicated his frame of mind. Lablache
+smiled to himself behind the wood expression of his face.
+
+"Twenty dollars call for fifty. Limit the bet to three thousand
+dollars. Is that big enough for you, Lablache? Let us have a regulation
+'ante.' No 'straddling.'"
+
+There was a moment's silence. "Poker" John had proposed the biggest game
+they had yet played. He would have suggested no limit, but this he knew
+would be all in favor of Lablache, whose resources were vast.
+
+John glanced over from the money-lender to the doctor. The doctor and
+Bunning-Ford were the most to be considered. Their resources were very
+limited. The old man knew that the doctor was one of those careful
+players who was not likely to allow himself to suffer by the height of
+the stakes. There was no bluffing the doctor. "Lord" Bill was able to
+take care of himself.
+
+"That's good enough for me," said Bunning-Ford. "Let it go at that."
+
+Outwardly Lablache was indifferent; inwardly he experienced a sense of
+supreme satisfaction at the height of the stakes.
+
+The four men relapsed into silence as they cut for the deal. It was an
+education in the game to observe each man as he, metaphorically
+speaking, donned his mask of impassive reserve. As the game progressed
+any one of those four men might have been a graven image as far as the
+expression of countenance went. No word was spoken beyond "Raise you so
+and so"--"See you that." So keen, so ardent was the game that the stake
+might have been one of life and death. No money passed. Just slips of
+paper; and yet any one of those fragments represented a small fortune.
+
+The first few hands resulted in but desultory betting. Sums of money
+changed hands but there was very little in it. Lablache was the
+principal loser. Three "pots" in succession were taken by John
+Allandale, but their aggregate did not amount to half the limit. A
+little luck fell to Bunning-Ford. He once raised Lablache to the limit.
+The money-lender "saw" him and lost. Bill promptly scooped in three
+thousand dollars. The doctor was cautious. He had lost and won nothing.
+Then a change came over the game. To use a card-player's expression, the
+cards were beginning to "run."
+
+"Lord" Bill dealt. Lablache was upon his right and next to him the
+doctor.
+
+The money-lender picked up his cards, and partially opening them glanced
+keenly at the index numerals. His stolid face remained unchanged. The
+doctor glanced at his and "came in." "Poker" John "came in." The dealer
+remained out. The doctor drew two cards; "Poker" John, one; Lablache
+drew one. The veteran rancher held four nines. "Lord" Bill gathered up
+the "deadwood," and, propping his face upon his hands, watched the
+betting.
+
+It was the doctor's bet; he cautiously dropped out. He had an inkling of
+the way things were going. "Poker" John opened the ball with five
+hundred dollars. He had a good thing and he did not want to frighten his
+opponent by a plunge. He would leave it to Lablache to start raising.
+The money-lender raised him one thousand. Old John sniffed with the
+appreciation of an old war-horse at the scent of battle. The nervous,
+twitching cheek remained unmoved. The old gambler in him rose uppermost.
+
+He leisurely saw the thousand, and raised another five hundred. Lablache
+allowed his fishy eyes to flash in the direction of his opponent. A
+moment after he raised another thousand. The gamble was becoming
+interesting. The two onlookers were consumed with the lust of play. They
+forgot that in the result they would not be participants. Old John's
+face lost something of its impassivity as he in turn raised to the
+limit. Lablache eased his great body in his chair. His little mouth was
+very tightly clenched. His breathing, at times stertorous, was like the
+breathing of an asthmatical pig. He saw, and again raised to the limit.
+There was now over twelve thousand dollars in the pool.
+
+It was old John's turn. The doctor and "Lord" Bill waited anxiously. The
+old rancher was reputed very wealthy. They felt assured that he would
+not back down after having gone so far. In their hearts they both wished
+to see him relieve Lablache of a lot of money.
+
+They need have had no fears. Whatever his faults "Poker" John was a
+"dead game sport." He dashed a slip of paper into the pool. The keen
+eyes watching read "four thousand dollars" scrawled upon it. He had
+again raised to the limit. It was now Lablache's turn to accept or
+refuse the challenge. The onlookers were not so sure of the
+money-lender. Would he accept or not?
+
+A curious thought was in the mind of that monument of flesh. He knew for
+certain that he held the winning cards. How he knew it would be
+impossible to say. And yet he hesitated. Perhaps he knew the limits of
+John Allandale's resources, perhaps he felt, for the present, there was
+sufficient in the pool; perhaps, even, he had ulterior motives. Whatever
+the cause, as he passed a slip of paper into the pool merely seeing his
+opponent, his face gave no outward sign of what was passing in the brain
+behind it.
+
+Old John laid down his hand.
+
+"Four nines," he said quietly.
+
+"Not good enough," retorted Lablache; "four kings." And he spread his
+cards out upon the table before him and swept up the pile of papers
+which represented his win.
+
+A sigh, as of relief to pent-up feelings, escaped the two men who had
+watched the gamble. Old John said not a word and his face betrayed no
+thought or regret that might have been in his mind at the loss of such a
+large amount of money. He merely glanced over at the money-lender.
+
+"Your deal, Lablache," he said quietly.
+
+Lablache took the cards and a fresh deal went round. Now the game became
+one-sided. With that one large pull the money-lender's luck seemed to
+have set in. Seemingly he could do no wrong. If he drew to "three of a
+kind," he invariably filled; if to a "pair," he generally secured a
+third; once, indeed, he drew to jack, queen, king of a suit and
+completed a "royal flush." His luck was phenomenal. The other men's
+luck seemed "dead out." Bunning-Ford and the doctor could get no hands
+at all, and thus they were saved heavy losses. Occasionally, even, the
+doctor raked in a few "antes." But John Allandale could do nothing
+right. He was always drawing tolerable cards--just good enough to lose
+with. Until, by the time daylight came, he had lost so heavily that his
+two friends were eagerly seeking an excuse to break up the game.
+
+At last "Lord" Bill effected this purpose, but at considerable loss to
+himself. He had a fairly good hand, but not, as he knew, sufficiently
+good to win with. Lablache and he were left in. The money-lender had in
+one plunge raised the bet to the "limit." Bill knew that he ought to
+drop out, but, instead of so doing, he saw his opponent. He lost the
+"pot."
+
+"Thank you, gentlemen," he said, quietly rising from the table, "my
+losses are sufficient for one night. I have finished. It is daylight and
+the storm is 'letting up' somewhat."
+
+He turned as he spoke, and, glancing at the staircase, saw Jacky
+standing at the top of it. How long she had been standing there he did
+not know. He felt certain, although she gave no sign, that she had heard
+what he had just said.
+
+"Poker" John saw her too.
+
+"Why, Jacky, what means this early rising?" said the old man kindly.
+"Too tired last night to sleep?"
+
+"No, uncle. Guess I slept all right. The wind's dropping fast. I take it
+it'll be blowing great guns again before long. This is our chance to
+make the ranch." She had been an observer of the finish of the game. She
+had heard Bill's remarks on his loss, and yet not by a single word did
+she betray her knowledge. Inwardly she railed at herself for having gone
+to bed. She wondered how it had fared with her uncle.
+
+Bunning-Ford left the room. Somehow he felt that he must get away from
+the steady gaze of those gray eyes. He knew how Jacky dreaded, for her
+uncle's sake, the game they had just been playing. He wondered, as he
+went to test the weather, what she would have thought had she known the
+stakes, or the extent of her uncle's losses. He hoped she was not aware
+of these facts.
+
+"You look tired, Uncle John," said the girl, solicitously, as she came
+down the stairs. She purposely ignored Lablache. "Have you had no
+sleep?"
+
+"Poker" John laughed a little uneasily.
+
+"Sleep, child? We old birds of the prairie can do with very little of
+that. It's only pretty faces that want sleep, and I'm thinking you ought
+still to be in your bed."
+
+"Miss Jacky is ever on the alert to take advantage of the elements," put
+in Lablache, heavily. "She seems to understand these things better than
+any of us."
+
+The girl was forced to notice the money-lender. She did so reluctantly,
+however.
+
+"So you, too, sought shelter from the storm beneath old man Norton's
+hospitable roof. You are dead right, Mr. Lablache; we who live on the
+prairie need to be ever on the alert. One never knows what each hour may
+bring forth."
+
+The girl was still in her ball-dress. Lablache's fishy eyes noticed her
+charming appearance. The strong, beautiful face sent a thrill of delight
+over him as he watched it--the delicate rounded shoulders made him suck
+in his heavy breath like one who anticipates a delicate dish. Jacky
+turned from him in plainly-expressed disgust.
+
+Her uncle was watching her with a gaze half uneasy and wholly tender.
+She was the delight of his old age, the center of all his affections,
+this motherless child of his dead brother. His cheek twitched painfully
+as he thought of the huge amount of his losings to Lablache. He shivered
+perceptibly as he rose from his seat and went over to the cooking stove.
+
+"I believe you people have let the stove out," the girl exclaimed, as
+she noted her uncle's movement. She had no intention of mentioning the
+game they had been playing. She feared to hear the facts. Instinct told
+her that her uncle had lost again. "Yes, I declare you have," as she
+knelt before the grate and raked away at the ashes.
+
+Suddenly she turned to the money-lender.
+
+"Here, you, fetch me some wood and coal-oil. Men can never be trusted."
+
+Jacky was no respecter of persons. When she ordered there were few men
+on the prairie who would refuse to obey. Lablache heaved his great bulk
+from before the table and got on to his feet. His bilious eyes were
+struggling to smile. The effect was horrible. Then he moved across the
+room to where a stack of kindling stood.
+
+"Hurry up. I guess if we depended much on you we'd freeze."
+
+And Lablache, the hardest, most unscrupulous man for miles around,
+endeavored to obey with the alacrity of any sheep-dog.
+
+In spite of himself John Allandale could not refrain from smiling at the
+grotesque picture the monumental Lablache made as he lumbered towards
+the stack of kindling.
+
+When "Lord" Bill returned Lablache was bending over the stove beside the
+girl.
+
+"I've thrown the harness on the horses--watered and fed 'em," he said,
+taking in the situation at a glance. "Say, Doc," turning to Abbot,
+"better rouse your good lady."
+
+"She'll be down in a tick," said Jacky, over her shoulder. "Here,
+doctor, you might get a kettle of water--and Bill, see if you can find
+some bacon or stuff. And you, uncle, came and sit by the stove--you're
+cold."
+
+Strange is the power and fascination of woman. A look--a glance--a
+simple word and we men hasten to minister to her requirements. Half an
+hour ago and all these men were playing for fortunes--dealing in
+thousands of dollars on the turn of a card, the passion for besting his
+neighbor uppermost in each man's mind. Now they were humbly doing one
+girl's bidding with a zest unsurpassed by the devotion to their recent
+gamble.
+
+She treated them indiscriminately. Old or young, there was no
+difference. Bunning-Ford she liked--Dr. Abbot she liked--Lablache she
+hated and despised, still she allotted them their tasks with perfect
+impartiality. Only her old uncle she treated differently. That dear,
+degenerate old man she loved with an affection which knew no bounds. He
+was her all in the world. Whatever his sins--whatever his faults, she
+loved him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH
+
+
+Spring is already upon the prairie. The fur coat has already been
+exchanged for the pea-jacket. No longer is the fur cap crushed down upon
+the head and drawn over the ears until little more than the oval of the
+face is exposed to the elements; it is still worn occasionally, but now
+it rests upon the head with the jaunty cant of an ordinary headgear.
+
+The rough coated broncho no longer stands "tucked up" with the cold,
+with its hind-quarters towards the wind. Now he stands grazing on the
+patches of grass which the melting snow has placed at his disposal. The
+cattle, too, hurry to and fro as each day extends their field of fodder.
+When spring sets in in the great North-West it is with no show of
+reluctance that grim winter yields its claims and makes way for its
+gracious and all-conquering foe. Spring is upon everything with all the
+characteristic suddenness of the Canadian climate. A week--a little
+seven days--and where all before had been cheerless wastes of snow and
+ice, we have the promise of summer with us. The snow disappears as with
+the sweep of a "chinook" in winter. The brown, saturated grass is tinged
+with the bright emerald hue of new-born pasture. The bared trees don
+that yellowish tinge which tells of breaking leaves. Rivers begin to
+flow. Their icy coatings, melting in the growing warmth of the sun,
+quickly returning once more to their natural element.
+
+With the advent of spring comes a rush of duties to those whose interest
+are centered in the breeding of cattle. The Foss River Settlement is
+already teeming with life. For the settlement is the center of the great
+spring "round-up." Here are assembling the "cow-punchers" from all the
+outlying ranches, gathering under the command of a captain (generally a
+man elected for his vast experience on the prairie) and making their
+preparations to scour the prairie east and west, north and south, to the
+very limits of the far-reaching plains which spread their rolling
+pastures at the eastern base of the Rockies. Every head of cattle which
+is found will be brought into the Foss River Settlement and thence will
+be distributed to its lawful owners. This is but the beginning of the
+work, for the task of branding calves and re-branding cattle whose
+brands have become obscured during the long winter months is a process
+of no small magnitude for those who number their stocks by tens of
+thousands.
+
+At John Allandale's ranch all is orderly bustle. There is no confusion.
+Under Jacky's administration the work goes on with a simple directness
+which would astonish the uninitiated. There are the corrals to repair
+and to be put in order. Sheds and out-buildings to be whitewashed.
+Branding apparatus to be set in working order, fencing to be repaired,
+preparations for seeding to commence; a thousand and one things to be
+seen to; and all of which must be finished before the first "bands" of
+cattle are rounded up into the settlement.
+
+It is nearly a month since we saw this daughter of the prairie garbed in
+the latest mode, attending the Polo Ball at Calford, and widely
+different is her appearance now from what it was at the time of our
+introduction to her.
+
+She is returning from an inspection of the wire fencing of the home
+pastures. She is riding her favorite horse, Nigger, up the gentle slope
+which leads to her uncle's house. There is nothing of the woman of
+fashion about her now--and, perhaps, it is a matter not to be regretted.
+
+She sits her horse with the easy grace of a childhood's experience. Her
+habit, if such it can be called, is a "dungaree" skirt of a hardly
+recognizable blue, so washed out is it, surmounted by a beautifully
+beaded buckskin shirt. Loosely encircling her waist, and resting upon
+her hips, is a cartridge belt, upon which is slung the holster of a
+heavy revolver, a weapon without which she never moves abroad. Her head
+is crowned by a Stetson hat, secured in true prairie fashion by a strap
+which passes under her hair at the back, while her beautiful hair itself
+falls in heavy ringlets over her shoulders, and waves untrammelled in
+the fresh spring breeze as her somewhat unruly charger gallops up the
+hill towards the ranch.
+
+The great black horse was heading for the stable. Jacky leant over to
+one side and swung him sharply towards the house. At the veranda she
+pulled him up short. High mettled, headstrong as the animal was, he knew
+his mistress. Tricks which he would often attempt to practice upon other
+people were useless here--doubtless she had taught him that such was the
+case.
+
+The girl sprang, unaided, to the ground and hitched her picket rope to a
+tying-post. For a moment she stood on the great veranda which ran down
+the whole length of the house front. It was a one-storied,
+bungalow-shaped house, built with a high pitch to the roof and entirely
+constructed of the finest red pine-wood. Six French windows opened on to
+the veranda. The outlook was westerly, and, contrary to the usual
+custom, the ranch buildings were not overlooked by it. The corrals and
+stables were in the background.
+
+She was about to turn in at one of the windows when she suddenly
+observed Nigger's ears cocked, and his head turned away towards the
+shimmering peaks of the distant mountains. The movement fixed her
+attention instantly. It was the instinct of one who lives in a country
+where the eyes and ears of a horse are often keener and more
+far-reaching than those of its human masters. The horse was gazing with
+statuesque fixedness across a waste of partially-melted snow. A stretch
+of ten miles lay flat and smooth as a billiard-table at the foot of the
+rise upon which the house was built. And far out across this the beast
+was gazing.
+
+Jacky shaded her eyes with her hand and followed the direction of the
+horse's gaze. For a moment or two she saw nothing but the dazzling glare
+of the snow in the bright spring sunlight. Then her eyes became
+accustomed to the brilliancy, and far in the distance, she beheld an
+animal peacefully moving along from patch to patch of bare grass,
+evidently in search of fodder.
+
+"A horse," she muttered, under her breath. "Whose?"
+
+She could find no answer to her monosyllabic inquiry. She realized at
+once that to whomsoever it belonged its owner would never recover it,
+for it was grazing on the far side of the great "Muskeg," that mighty
+bottomless mire which extends for forty miles north and south and whose
+narrowest breadth is a span of ten miles. She was looking across it now,
+and innocent enough that level plain of terror appeared at that moment.
+And yet it was the curse of the ranching district, for, annually,
+hundreds of cattle met an untimely death in its cruel, absorbing bosom.
+
+She turned away for the purpose of fetching a pair of field-glasses. She
+was anxious to identify the horse. She passed along the veranda
+towards the furthest window. It was the window of her uncle's office.
+Just as she was nearing it she heard the sound of voices coming from
+within. She paused, and an ominous pucker drew her brows together. Her
+beautiful dark face clouded. She had no wish to play the part of an
+eavesdropper, but she had recognized the voices of her uncle and
+Lablache. She had also heard the mention of her own name. What woman,
+or, for that matter, man, can refrain from listening when they hear two
+people talking about them. The window was open; Jacky paused--and
+listened.
+
+Lablache's thick voice lolled heavily upon the brisk air.
+
+"She is a good girl. But don't you think you are considering her future
+from a rather selfish point of view, John?"
+
+"Selfish?" The old man laughed in his hearty manner "Maybe you're right,
+though. I never thought of that. You see I'm getting old now. I can't
+get around like I used to. Bless me, she's two-an'-twenty.
+Three-and-twenty years since my brother Dick--God rest his
+soul!--married that half-breed girl, Josie. Yes, I guess you're right,
+she's bound to marry soon."
+
+Jacky smiled a curious dark smile. Something told her why Lablache and
+her uncle were discussing her future.
+
+"Why, of course she is," said Lablache, "and when that happy event is
+accomplished I hope it will not be with any improvident--harum-scarum
+man like--like--"
+
+"The Hon. Bunning-Ford I suppose you would say, eh?"
+
+There was a somewhat sharp tone in the old man's voice which Jacky was
+not slow to detect.
+
+"Well," went on Lablache, with one of those deep whistling breaths which
+made him so like an ancient pug, "since you mention him, for want of a
+better specimen of improvidence, his name will do."
+
+"So I thought--so I thought," laughed the old man. But his words rang
+strangely. "Most people think," he went on, "that when I die Jacky will
+be rich. But she won't."
+
+"No," replied Lablache, emphatically.
+
+There was a world of meaning in his tone.
+
+"However, I guess we can let her hunt around for herself when she wants
+a husband. Jacky's a girl with a head. A sight better head than I've got
+on my old shoulders. When she chooses a husband, and comes and tells me
+of it, she shall have my blessing and anything else I have to give. I'm
+not going to interfere with that girl's matrimonial affairs, sir, not
+for any one. That child, bless her heart, is like my own child to me. If
+she wants the moon, and there's nothing else to stop her having it but
+my consent, why, I guess that moon's as good as fenced in with
+triple-barbed wire an' registered in her name in the Government Land
+Office."
+
+"And in the meantime you are going to make that same child work for her
+daily bread like any 'hired man,' and keep company with any scoun--"
+
+"Hi, stop there, Lablache! Stop there," thundered "Poker" John, and
+Jacky heard a thud as of a fist falling upon the table. "You've taken
+the unwarrantable liberty of poking your nose into my affairs, and,
+because of our old acquaintance, I have allowed it. But now let me tell
+you this is no d----d business of yours. There's no make with Jacky.
+What she does, she does of her own accord."
+
+At that moment the girl in question walked abruptly in from the veranda.
+She had heard enough.
+
+"Ah, uncle," she said, smiling tenderly up into the old man's face,
+"talking of me, I guess. You shouted my name just as I was coming along.
+Say, I want the field-glasses. Where are they?"
+
+Then she turned on Lablache as if she had only just become aware of his
+presence.
+
+"What, Mr. Lablache, you here? And so early, too. Guess this isn't like
+you. How is your store--that temple of wealth and high interest--to get
+on without you? How are the 'improvident'--'harum-scarums' to live if
+you are not present to minister to their wants--upon the best of
+security?" Without waiting for a reply the girl picked up the glasses
+she was in search of and darted out, leaving Lablache glaring his
+bilious-eyed rage after her.
+
+"Poker" John stood for a moment a picture of blank surprise; then he
+burst into a loud guffaw at the discomfited money-lender. Jacky heard
+the laugh and smiled. Then she passed out of earshot and concentrated
+her attention upon the distant speck of animal life.
+
+The girl stood for some moments surveying the creature as it moved
+leisurely along, its nose well down amongst the roots of the tawny
+grass, seeking out the tender green shoots of the new-born pasture. Then
+she closed her glasses and her thoughts wandered to other matters.
+
+The gorgeous landscape was, for a moment, utterly lost upon her. The
+snowy peaks of the Rockies, stretching far as the eye could see away to
+the north and south, like some giant fortification set up to defend the
+rolling pastures of the prairies from the ceaseless attack of the stormy
+Pacific Ocean, were far from her thoughts. Her eyes, it is true, were
+resting on the level flat of the muskeg, beyond the grove of slender
+pines which lined the approach to the house, but she was not thinking of
+that. No, recollection was struggling back through two years of a busy
+life, to a time when, for a brief space, she had watched over the
+welfare of another than her uncle, when the dark native blood which
+flowed plentifully in her veins had asserted itself, and a nature which
+was hers had refused to remain buried beneath a superficial European
+training. She was thinking of a man who had formed a secret part of her
+life for a few short years, when she had allowed her heart to dictate a
+course for her actions which no other motive but that of love could have
+brought about. She was thinking of Peter Retief, a pretty scoundrel, a
+renowned "bad man," a man of wild and reckless daring. He had been the
+terror of the countryside. A cattle-thief who feared neither man nor
+devil; a man who for twelve months and more had carried, his life in his
+hands, the sworn enemy of law and order, but who, in his worst moments,
+had never been known to injure a poor man or a woman. The wild blood of
+the half-breed that was in her had been stirred, as only a woman's blood
+can be, by his reckless dealings, his courage, effrontery, and withal
+his wondrous kindliness of disposition. She was thinking of this man
+now, this man whom she knew to be numbered amongst the countless victims
+of that dreadful mire. And what had conjured this thought? A horse--a
+horse peacefully grazing far out across the mire in the direction of the
+distant hills which she knew had once been this desperado's home.
+
+Her train of recollection suddenly became broken, and a sigh escaped her
+as the sound of her uncle's voice fell upon her ears. She did not move,
+however, for she knew that Lablache was with him, and this man she hated
+with the fiery hatred only to be found in the half-breeds of any native
+race.
+
+"I'm sorry, John, we can't agree on the point," Lablache was saying in
+his wheezy voice, as the two men stood at the other end of the veranda,
+"but I'm quite determined Upon the matter myself. The land intersects
+mine and cuts me clean off from the railway siding, and I am forced to
+take my cattle a circle of nearly fifteen miles to ship them. If he
+would only be reasonable and allow a passage I would say nothing. I will
+force him to sell."
+
+"If you can," put in the rancher. "I reckon you've got chilled steel to
+deal with when you endeavor to 'force' old Joe Norton to sell the finest
+wheat land in the country."
+
+At this point in the conversation three men came round from the back of
+the house. They were "cow" hands belonging to the ranch. They approached
+Jacky with the easy assurance of men who were as much companions as
+servants of their mistress. All three, however, touched their
+wide-brimmed hats in unmistakable respect. They were clad in buckskin
+shirts and leather "chaps," and each had his revolver upon his hip. The
+girl lost the rest of the conversation between her uncle and Lablache,
+for her attention was turned to the men.
+
+"Well?" she asked shortly, as the men stood before her.
+
+One of the men, a tall, lank specimen of the dark-skinned prairie
+half-breed, acted as spokesman.
+
+He ejected a squirt of tobacco juice from his great, dirty mouth before
+he spoke. Then with a curious backward jerk of the head he blurted out a
+stream of Western jargon.
+
+"Say, missie," he exclaimed in a high-pitched nasal voice, "it ain't no
+use in talkin', ye kent put no tenderfoot t' boss the round-up. There's
+them all-fired Donoghue lot jest sent right in t' say, 'cause, I s'pose,
+they reckon as they're the high muck-i-muck o' this location, that that
+tarnation Sim Lory, thar head man, is to cap' the round-up. Why, he
+ain't cast a blamed foot on the prairie sence he's been hyar. An' I'll
+swear he don't know the horn o' his saddle from a monkey stick. Et ain't
+right, missie, an' us fellers t' work under him an' all."
+
+His address came to an abrupt end, and he gave emphasis to his words by
+a prolonged expectoration. Jacky, her eyes sparkling with anger, was
+quick to reply.
+
+"Look you here, Silas, just go right off and throw your saddle on your
+pony--"
+
+"Guess it's right thar, missie," the man interrupted.
+
+"Then sling off as fast as your plug can lay foot to the ground, and
+give John Allandale's compliments to Jim Donoghue and say, if they don't
+send a capable man, since they've been appointed to find the 'captain,'
+he'll complain to the Association and insist on the penalty being
+enforced. What, do they take us for a lot of 'gophers'? Sim Lory,
+indeed; why, he's not fit to prise weeds with a two tine hay fork."
+
+The men went off hurriedly. Their mistress's swift methods of dealing
+with matters pleased them. Silas was more than pleased to be able to get
+a "slant" (to use his own expression) at his old enemy, Sim Lory. As the
+men departed "Poker" John came and stood beside his niece.
+
+"What's that about Sim Lory, Jacky?"
+
+"They've sent him to run this 'round-up.'"
+
+"And?"
+
+"Oh, I just told them it wouldn't do," indifferently.
+
+Old John smiled.
+
+"In those words?"
+
+"Well, no, uncle," the girl said with a responsive smile. "But they
+needed a 'jinning' up. I sent the message in your name."
+
+The old man shook his head, but his indulgent smile remained.
+
+"You'll be getting me into serious trouble with that impetuosity of
+yours, Jacky," he said absently. "But there--I daresay you know best."
+
+His words were characteristic of him. He left the entire control of the
+ranch to this girl of two-and-twenty, relying implicitly upon her
+judgment in all things. It was a strange thing to do, for he was still a
+vigorous man. To look at him was to make oneself wonder at the reason.
+But the girl accepted the responsibility without question. There was a
+subtle sympathy between uncle and niece. Sometimes Jacky would gaze up
+into his handsome old face and something in the twitching cheek, the
+curiously-shaped mouth, hidden beneath the gray mustache, would cause
+her to turn away with a sigh, and, with stimulated resolution, hurl
+herself into the arduous labors of managing the ranch. What she read in
+that dear, honest face she loved so well she kept locked in her own
+secret heart, and never, by word or act, did she allow herself to betray
+it. She was absolute mistress of the Foss River Ranch and she knew it.
+Old "Poker" John, like the morphine "fiend," merely continued to keep up
+his reputation and the more fully deserve his sobriquet. His mind, his
+character, his whole being was being slowly but surely absorbed in the
+lust of gambling.
+
+The girl laid her hand upon the old man's arm.
+
+"Uncle--what was Lablache talking to you about? I mean when I came for
+the field-glasses."
+
+"Poker" John was gazing abstractedly into the dense growth of pines
+which fringed the house. He pulled himself together, but his eyes had in
+them a far-away look.
+
+"Many things," he replied evasively.
+
+"Yes, I know, dear, but," bending her face while she removed one of her
+buckskin gauntlets from her hand, "I mean about me. You two
+were-discussing me, I know."
+
+She turned her keen gray eyes upon her relative as she finished
+speaking. The old man turned away. He felt that those eyes were reading
+his very soul. They made him uncomfortable.
+
+"Oh, he said I ought not to let you associate with certain people."
+
+"Why?" The sharp question came with the directness of a pistol-shot.
+
+"Well, he seemed to think that you might think of marrying."
+
+"Ah, and--"
+
+"He seemed to fancy that you, being impetuous, might make a mistake and
+fall--"
+
+"In love with the wrong man. Yes, I understand; and from his point of
+view, if ever I do marry it will undoubtedly be the wrong man."
+
+And the girl finished up with a mirthless laugh.
+
+They stood for some moments in silence. They were both thinking. The
+noise from the corrals behind the house reached them. The steady drip,
+drip of the water from the melting snow upon the roof of the house
+sounded loudly as it fell on the sodden ground beneath.
+
+"Uncle, did it ever strike you that that greasy money-lender wants to
+marry me himself?"
+
+The question startled John Allandale more than anything else could have
+done. He turned sharply round and faced his niece.
+
+"Marry you, Jacky?" he repeated. "I never thought of it."
+
+"It isn't to be supposed that you would have done so."
+
+There was the faintest tinge of bitterness in the girl's answer.
+
+"And do you really think that he wants to marry you?"
+
+"I don't know quite. Perhaps I am wrong, uncle, and my imagination has
+run away with me. Yes, I sometimes think he wants to marry me."
+
+They both relapsed into silence. Then her uncle spoke again.
+
+"Jacky, what you have just said has made something plain to me which I
+could not understand before. He came and gave me--unsolicited, mind--"a
+little eagerly, "a detailed account of Bunning-Ford's circumstances,
+and--"
+
+"Endeavored to bully you into sending him about his business. Poor old
+Bill! And what was his account of him?"
+
+The girl's eyes were glowing with quickly-roused passion, but she kept
+them turned from her uncle's face.
+
+"He told me that the boy had heavy mortgages on his land and stock. He
+told me that if he were to realize to-morrow there would be little or
+nothing for himself. Everything would go to some firm in Calford. In
+short, that he has gambled his ranch away."
+
+"And he told this to you, uncle, dear." Then the girl paused and looked
+far out across the great muskeg. In her abrupt fashion she turned again
+to the old man. "Uncle," she went on, "tell me truly, do you owe
+anything to Lablache? Has he any hold upon you?"
+
+There was a world of anxiety in her voice as she spoke. John Allandale
+tried to follow her thought before he answered. He seemed to grasp
+something of her meaning, for in a moment his eyes took on an expression
+of pain. Then his words came slowly, as from one who is not sure of what
+he is saying.
+
+"I owe him some--money--yes--but--"
+
+"Poker?"
+
+The question was jerked viciously from the girl's lips.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Jacky turned slowly away until her eyes rested upon the distant, grazing
+horse. A strange restlessness seemed to be upon her. She was fidgeting
+with the gauntlet which she had just removed. Then slowly her right hand
+passed round to her hip, where it rested upon the butt of her revolver.
+There was a tight drawnness about her lips and her keen gray eyes looked
+as though gazing into space.
+
+"How much?" she said at last, breaking the heavy silence which had
+followed upon her uncle's admission. Then before he could answer she
+went on deliberately: "But there--I guess it don't cut any figure.
+Lablache shall be paid, and I take it his bill of interest won't amount
+to more than we can pay if we're put to it. Poor old Bill!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE "STRAY" BEYOND THE MUSKEG
+
+
+The Foss River Settlement nestles in one of those shallow
+hollows--scarcely a valley and which yet must be designated by such a
+term--in which the Canadian North-West abounds.
+
+We are speaking now of the wilder and less-inhabited parts of the great
+country, where grain-growing is only incidental, and the prevailing
+industry is stock-raising. Where the land gradually rises towards the
+maze-like foothills before the mighty crags of the Rockies themselves be
+reached. A part where yet is to be heard of the romantic crimes of the
+cattle-raiders; a part to where civilization has already turned its
+face, but where civilizaton has yet to mature. In such a country is
+situate the Foss River Settlement.
+
+The settlement itself is like dozens of others of its kind. There is the
+school-house, standing by itself, apart from other buildings, as if in
+proud distinction for its classic vocation. There is the church, or
+rather chapel, where every denomination holds its services. A saloon,
+where four per cent. beer and prohibition whiskey of the worst
+description is openly sold over the bar; where you can buy poker "chips"
+to any amount, and can sit down and play from daylight till dark, from
+dark to daylight. A blacksmith and wheelwright; a baker; a carpenter; a
+doctor who is also a druggist; a store where one can buy every article
+of dry goods at exorbitant prices--and on credit; and then, besides all
+this, well beyond the township limit there is a half-breed settlement, a
+place which even to this day is a necessary evil and a constant thorn
+in the side of that smart, efficient force--the North-West Mounted
+Police.
+
+Lablache's store stands in the center of the settlement, facing on to
+the market-place--the latter a vague, undefined space of waste ground on
+which vendors of produce are wont to draw up their wagons. The store is
+a massive building of great extent. Its proportions rise superior to its
+surroundings, as if to indicate in a measure its owner's worldly status
+in the district It is built entirely of stone, and roofed with
+slate--the only building of such construction in the settlement.
+
+A wonderful center of business is Lablache's store--the chief one for a
+radius of fifty miles. Nearly the whole building is given up to the
+stocking of goods, and only at the back of the building is to be found a
+small office which answers the multifarious purposes of office, parlor,
+dining-room, smoking-room--in short, every necessity of its owner,
+except bedroom, which occupies a mere recess partitioned off by thin
+matchwood boarding.
+
+Wealthy as Lablache was known to be he spent little or no money upon
+himself beyond just sufficient to purchase the bare necessities of life.
+He had few requirements which could not be satisfied under the headings
+of tobacco and food--both of which he indulged himself freely. The
+saloon provided the latter, and as for the former, trade price was best
+suited to his inclinations, and so he drew upon his stock. He was a
+curious man, was Verner Lablache--a man who understood the golden value
+of silence. He never even spoke of his nationality. Foss River was
+content to call him curious--some people preferred other words to
+express their opinion.
+
+Lablache had known John Allandale for years. Who, in Foss River, had he
+not known for years? Lablache would have liked to call old John his
+friend, but somehow "Poker" John had never responded to the
+money-lender's advances. Lablache showed no resentment. If he cared at
+all he was careful to keep his feelings hidden. One thing is certain,
+however, he allowed himself to think long and often of old John--and his
+household. Often, when in the deepest stress of his far-reaching work,
+he would heave his great bulk back in his chair and allow those fishy,
+lashless, sphinx-like eyes of his to gaze out of his window in the
+direction of the Foss River Ranch. His window faced in the direction of
+John's house, which was plainly visible on the slope which bounded the
+southern side of the settlement.
+
+And so it came about a few days later, in one of these digressions of
+thought, that the money-lender, gazing out towards the ranch, beheld a
+horseman riding slowly up to the veranda of the Allandale's house. There
+was nothing uncommon in the incident, but the sight riveted his
+attention, and an evil light came into his usually expressionless eyes.
+He recognized the horseman as the Hon. Bunning-Ford.
+
+Lablache swung round on his revolving chair, and, in doing so, kicked
+over a paper-basket. The rapidity of his movement was hardly to be
+expected in one of his bulk. His thin eyebrows drew together in an ugly
+frown.
+
+"What does he want?" he muttered, under his heavy breath.
+
+He hazarded no answer to his own question. It was answered for him. He
+saw the figure of a woman step out on to the veranda.
+
+The money-lender rose swiftly to his feet and took a pair of
+field-glasses from their case. Adjusting them he gazed long and
+earnestly at the house on the hill.
+
+Jacky was talking to "Lord" Bill. She was habited in her dungaree skirt
+and buckskin bodice. Presently Bill dismounted and passed into the
+house.
+
+Lablache shut his glasses with a snap and turned away from the window.
+For some time he stood gazing straight before him and a swift torrent of
+thought flowed through his active brain. Then, with the directness of
+one whose mind is made up, he went over to a small safe which stood in
+a corner of the room. From this he took an account book. The cover bore
+the legend "Private." He laid it upon the table, and, for some moments,
+bent over it as he scanned its pages.
+
+He paused at an account headed John Allandale. The figures of this
+account were very large, totalling into six figures. The balance against
+the rancher was enormous. Lablache gave a satisfied grunt as he turned
+over to another account.
+
+"Safe--safe enough. Safe as the Day of Doom," he said slowly. His mouth
+worked with a cruel smile.
+
+He paused at the account of Bunning-Ford.
+
+"Twenty thousand dollars--um," the look of satisfaction was changed. He
+looked less pleased, but none the less cruel. "Not enough--let me see.
+His place is worth fifty thousand dollars. Stock another thirty
+thousand. I hold thirty-five thousand on first mortgage for the Calford
+Trust and Loan Co." He smiled significantly. "This bill of sale for
+twenty thousand is in my own name. Total, fifty-five thousand. Sell him
+up and there would still be a margin. No, not yet, my friend."
+
+He closed the book and put it away. Then he walked to the window.
+Bunning-Ford's horse was still standing outside the house.
+
+"He must be dealt with soon," he muttered.
+
+And in those words was concentrated a world of hate and cruel purpose.
+
+Who shall say of what a man's disposition is composed? Who shall
+penetrate those complex feelings which go to make a man what his secret
+consciousness knows himself to be? Not even the man himself can tell the
+why and wherefore of his passions and motives. It is a matter beyond the
+human ken. It is a matter which neither science nor learning can tell us
+of. Verner Lablache was possessed of all that prosperity could give him.
+He was wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, and no pleasure which money
+could buy was beyond his reach. He knew, only too well, that when the
+moment came, and he wished it, he could set out for any of the great
+centers of fashion and society, and there purchase for himself a wife
+who would fulfill the requirements of the most fastidious. In his own
+arrogant mind he went further, and protested that he could choose whom
+he would and she would be his. But this method he set aside as too
+simple, and, instead, had decided to select for his wife a girl whom he
+had watched grow up to womanhood from the first day that she had opened
+her great, wondering eyes upon the world. And thus far he had been
+thwarted. All his wealth went for nothing. The whim of this girl he had
+chosen was more powerful in this matter than was gold--the gold he
+loved. But Lablache was not the man to sit down and admit of defeat; he
+meant to marry Joaquina Allandale willy-nilly. Love was impossible to
+such a man as he. He had conceived an absorbing passion for her, it is
+true, but love--as it is generally understood--no. He was not a young
+man--the victim of a passion, fierce but transient. He was matured in
+all respects--in mind and body. His passion was lasting, if impure, and
+he meant to take to himself the girl-wife. Nothing should stand in his
+way.
+
+He turned back to his desk, but not to work.
+
+In the meantime the object of his forcible attentions was holding an
+interesting _tête-à-tête_ with the man against whom he fostered an evil
+purpose.
+
+Jacky was seated at a table in the pleasant sitting-room of her uncle's
+house. Spread out before her were several open stock books, from which
+she was endeavoring to estimate the probable number of "beeves" which
+the early spring would produce. This was a task which she always liked
+to do herself before the round-up was complete, so as the easier to sort
+the animals into their various pastures when they should come in. Her
+visitor was standing with his back to the stove, in typical Canadian
+fashion. He was, clad in a pair of well-worn chaps drawn over a pair of
+moleskin trousers, and wore a gray tweed coat and waistcoat over a soft
+cotton shirt, of the "collar attached" type. As he stood there the stoop
+of his shoulders was very pronounced. His fair hair was carefully
+brushed, and although his face was slightly weather-stained, still, it
+was quite easy to imagine the distinguished figure he would be, clad in
+all the solemn pomp of broadcloth and the silk glaze of fashionable
+society in the neighborhood of Bond Street.
+
+The girl was not looking at her books. She was looking up and smiling at
+a remark her companion had just made.
+
+"And so your friend, Pat Nabob, is going up into the mountains after
+gold. Does he know anything about prospecting?"
+
+"I think so--he's had some experience."
+
+Jacky became serious. She rose and turned to the window, which commanded
+a perfect view of the distant peaks of the Rockies, towering high above
+the broad, level expanse of the great muskeg. With her back still turned
+to him she fired an abrupt question.
+
+"Say, Bill, guess 'Pickles' has some other reason for this mad scheme.
+What is it? You can't tell me he's going just for love of the adventure
+of the thing. Now, let's hear the truth."
+
+Unobserved by the girl, her companion shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"If you want his reason you'd better ask him, Jacky. I can only
+surmise."
+
+"So can I." Jacky turned sharply. "I'll tell you why he's going, Bill,
+and you can bet your last cent I'm right. Lablache is at the bottom of
+it. He's at the bottom of everything that causes people to leave Foss
+River. He's a blood-sucker."
+
+Bunning-Ford nodded. He was rarely expansive. Moreover, he knew he could
+add nothing to what the girl had said. She expressed his sentiments
+fully. There was a pause. Jacky was keenly eyeing the tall thin figure
+at the stove.
+
+"Why did you come to tell me of this?" she asked at last.
+
+"Thought you'd like to know. You like 'Pickles.'"
+
+"Yes--Bill, you are thinking of going with him."
+
+Her companion laughed uneasily. This girl was very keen.
+
+"I didn't say so."
+
+"No, but still you are thinking of doing so. See here, Bill, tell me all
+about it."
+
+Bill coughed. Then he turned, and stooping, shook the ashes from the
+stove and opened the damper.
+
+"Beastly cold in here," he remarked inconsequently.
+
+"Yes--but, out with it."
+
+Bill stood up and turned his indolent eyes upon his interrogator.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of going--to the mountains."
+
+"Where then?"
+
+"To the Yukon."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+In spite of herself the girl could not help the exclamation.
+
+"Why?" she went on a moment later.
+
+"Well, if you must have it, I shan't be able to last out this
+summer--unless a stroke of luck falls to my share."
+
+"Financially?"
+
+"Financially."
+
+"Lablache?"
+
+"Lablache--and the Calford Trust Co."
+
+"The same thing," with conviction.
+
+"Exactly--the same thing."
+
+"And you stand?"
+
+"If I meet the interest on my mortgages it will take away every head of
+fat cattle I can scrape together, and then I cannot pay Lablache other
+debts which fall due in two weeks' time." He quietly drew out his
+tobacco-pouch and rolled a cigarette. He seemed quite indifferent to his
+difficulties. "If I realize on the ranch now there'll be something left
+for me. If I go on, by the end of the summer there won't be."
+
+"I suppose you mean that you will be deeper in debt."
+
+He smiled in his own peculiarly lazy fashion as he held a lighted match
+to his cigarette.
+
+"Just so. I shall owe Lablache more," he said, between spasmodic draws
+at his tobacco.
+
+"Lablache has wonderful luck at cards."
+
+"Yes," shortly.
+
+Jacky returned to the table and sat down. She turned the pages of a
+stock book idly. She was thinking and the expression of her dark,
+determined little face indicated the unpleasant nature of her thoughts.
+Presently she looked up and encountered the steady gaze of her
+companion. They were great friends--these two. In that glance each read
+in the other's mind something of a mutual thought. Jacky, with womanly
+readiness, put part of it into words.
+
+"No one ever seems to win against him, Bill. Guess he makes a steady
+income out of poker."
+
+The man nodded and gulped down a deep inhalation from his cigarette.
+
+"Wonderful luck," the girl went on.
+
+"Some people call it 'luck,'" put in Bill, quietly, but with a curious
+purse of the lips.
+
+"What do you call it?" sharply.
+
+Bunning-Ford refused to commit himself. He contented himself with
+blowing the ash from his cigarette and crossing over to the window,
+where he stood looking out. He had come there that afternoon with a
+half-formed intention of telling this girl something which every girl
+must hope to hear sooner or later in her life. He had come there with
+the intention of ending, one way or the other, a
+friendship--_camaraderie_--whatever you please to call it, by telling
+this hardy girl of the prairie the old, old story over again. He loved
+this woman with an intensity that very few would have credited him with.
+Who could associate lazy, good-natured, careless "Lord" Bill with
+serious love? Certainly not his friends. And yet such was the case, and
+for that reason had he come. The affairs of Pat Nabob were but a
+subterfuge. And now he found it impossible to pronounce the words he had
+so carefully thought out. Jacky was not the woman to approach easily
+with sentiment, she was so "deucedly practical." So Bill said to
+himself. It was useless to speculate upon her feelings. This girl never
+allowed anything approaching sentiment to appear upon the surface. She
+knew better than to do so. She had the grave responsibility of her
+uncle's ranch upon her shoulders, therefore all men must be kept at
+arm's length. She was in every sense a woman, passionate, loyal, loving.
+But in addition nature had endowed her with a spirit which rose superior
+to feminine attributes and feelings. The blood in her veins--her life on
+the prairie--her tender care and solicitude for her uncle, of whose
+failings and weaknesses she was painfully aware, had caused her to put
+from her all thoughts of love and marriage. Her life must be devoted to
+him, and while he lived she was determined that no thought of self
+should interfere with her self-imposed duty.
+
+At last "Lord" Bill broke the silence which had fallen upon the room
+after the girl's unanswered question. His remark seemed irrevelant and
+inconsequent.
+
+"There's a horse on the other side of the muskeg. Who's is it?"
+
+Jacky was at his side in an instant. So suddenly had she bounded from
+the table, that her companion turned, with that lazy glance of his, and
+looked keenly at her. He failed to understand her excitement. She had
+snatched up a pair of field-glasses and had already leveled them at the
+distant object.
+
+She looked long and earnestly across the miry waste. Then she turned to
+her companion with a strange look in her beautiful gray eyes.
+
+"Bill, I've seen that horse before. Four days ago. I've looked for it
+ever since, but couldn't see it. I'm going to round it up."
+
+"Eh? How?"
+
+Bill was looking out across the muskeg again.
+
+"Guess I'm going right across there this evening," the girl said
+quietly.
+
+"Across the muskeg?" Her companion was roused out of himself. His
+usually lazy gray eyes were gleaming brightly. "Impossible!"
+
+"Not at all, Bill," she replied, with an easy smile. "I know the path."
+
+"But I thought there was only one man who ever knew that mythical path,
+and--he is dead."
+
+"Quite right, Bill--only one _man_."
+
+"Then the old stories--"
+
+There was a peculiar expression on the man's face. The girl interrupted
+him with a gay laugh.
+
+"Bother the 'old stories.' I'm going across there this evening after
+tea--coming?"
+
+Bunning-Ford looked across at the clock--the hands pointed to half-past
+one. He was silent for a minute. Then he said,--
+
+"I'll be with you at four if--if you'll tell me all about--"
+
+"Peter Retief--yes, I'll tell you as we go, Bill. What are you going to
+do until then?"
+
+"I'm going down to the saloon to meet 'Pickles,' your pet aversion,
+Pedro Mancha, and we're going to find a fourth."
+
+"Ah, poker?"
+
+"Yes, poker."
+
+"I'm sorry, Bill. But be here at four sharp and I'll tell you all about
+it. See here, boy, 'mum's' the word."
+
+The craving of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's life was excitement. His
+temperament bordered on the lethargic. He felt that unless he could
+obtain excitement life was utterly unbearable. He had sought it all over
+the world before he had adopted the life of a rancher. Here in the West
+of Canada he had found something of what he sought. There was the big
+game shooting in the mountains, and the pursuit of the "grizzly" is the
+most wildly enthralling chase in the world. There was the taming and
+"breaking" of the wild and furious "broncho"--the most exemplary
+"bucking" horse in the world. There was the "round-up" and handling of
+cattle which never failed to give unlimited excitement. And then, at all
+times, was the inevitable poker, that king of all excitements among card
+games. The West of Canada had pleased "Lord" Bill as did no other
+country, and so he had invested the remains of his younger son's portion
+in stock.
+
+He had asked for excitement and Canada had responded generously. Bill
+had found more than excitement, he had found love; and had found a
+wealth of real friendship rarely equaled in the busy cities of
+civilization.
+
+In the midst of all these things which, seeking, he had found, came this
+suggestion from a girl. The muskeg--the cruel, relentless muskeg, that
+mire, dreaded and shunned by white men and natives alike. It could be
+crossed by a secret, path. The thought pleased him. And none knew of
+this path except a man who was dead and this girl he loved. There was a
+strange excitement in the thought of such a journey.
+
+"Lord" Bill, ignoring his stirrup, vaulted into his saddle, and, as he
+swung his horse round and headed towards the settlement, he wondered
+what the day would bring forth.
+
+"Confound the cards," he muttered, as he rode away.
+
+And it was the first time in his life that he had reluctantly
+contemplated a gamble.
+
+Had he only known it, a turning-point in his life was rapidly
+approaching--a turning-point which would lead to events which, if told
+as about to occur in the nineteenth century, would surely bring down
+derision upon the head of the teller. And yet would the derided one have
+right on his side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+"WAYS THAT ARE DARK"
+
+
+It was less than a quarter of a mile from the Allandales' house to the
+saloon--a den of reeking atmosphere and fouler spirits.
+
+The saloon at Foss River was no better and no worse than hundreds of
+others in the North-West at the time of which we write. It was a fairly
+large wooden building standing at the opposite end of the open space
+which answered the purpose of a market-place, and facing Lablache's
+store. Inside, it was gloomy, and the air invariably reeked of stale
+tobacco and drink. The bar was large, and at one end stood a piano kept
+for the purpose of "sing-songs"--nightly occurrences when the execrable
+whisky had done its work. Passing through the bar one finds a large
+dining-room on one side of a passage, and, on the other, a number of
+smaller rooms devoted to the use of those who wished to play poker.
+
+It was towards this place that the Hon. Bunning-Ford was riding in the
+leisurely manner of one to whom time is no object.
+
+His thoughts were far from matters pertaining to his destination, and he
+would gladly have welcomed anything which could have interfered with his
+projected game. For the moment poker had lost its charm.
+
+This man was at no time given to vacillation. All his methods were, as a
+rule, very direct. Underneath his easy nonchalance he was of a very
+decided nature. His thin face at times could suddenly become very keen.
+His true character was hidden by the cultivated lazy expression of his
+eyes. Bunning-Ford was one of those men who are at their best in
+emergency. At all other times life was a thing which it was impossible
+for him to take seriously. He valued money as little as he valued
+anything in the world. Poker he looked upon as a means to an end. He had
+no religious principles, but firmly believed in doing as he would be
+done by. Honesty and truth he loved, because to him they were clean. It
+mattered nothing to him what his surroundings might be, for, though
+living in them, he was not of them. He would as soon sit down to play
+cards with three known murderers as play in the best club in London, and
+he would treat them honestly and expect the same in return--but a loaded
+revolver would be slung upon his hip and the holster would be open and
+handy.
+
+As he neared the saloon he recognized the figures of two men walking in
+the direction of the saloon. They were the doctor and John Allandale. He
+rode towards them.
+
+"Hallo, Bill, whither bound?" said the old rancher, as the younger man
+came up. "Going to join us in the parlor of Smith's fragrant hostelry?
+The spider is already there weaving the web in which he hopes to ensnare
+us."
+
+Bunning-Ford shook his head.
+
+"Who's the spider--Lablache?"
+
+"Yes, we're going to play. It's the first time for some days. Guess
+we've all been too busy with the round-up. Won't you really join us?"
+
+"Can't. I've promised Mancha and 'Pickles' revenge for a game we played
+the other night, when I happened to relieve them of a few dollars."
+
+"Sensible man--Lablache is too consistent," put in the doctor, quietly.
+
+"Nonsense," said "Poker" John, optimistically. "You're always carping
+about the man's luck. We must break it soon."
+
+"Yes, we've suggested that before."
+
+Bill spoke with meaning and finished up with a purse of the lips.
+
+They were near the saloon.
+
+"How long are you going to play?" he went on quietly.
+
+"Right through the evening," replied "Poker" John, with keen
+satisfaction. "And you?"
+
+"Only until four o'clock. I am going to take tea up at your place."
+
+The old man offered no comment and Bill dismounted and tied the horse to
+a post, and the three men entered the stuffy bar. The room was half full
+of people. They were mostly cow-boys or men connected with the various
+ranches about the neighborhood. Words of greeting hailed the new-comers
+on all sides, but old John, who led the way, took little or no notice of
+those whom he recognized. The lust of gambling was upon him, and, as a
+dipsomaniac craves for drink, so he was longing to feel the smooth
+surface of pasteboard between his fingers. While Bunning-Ford stopped to
+exchange a word with some of those he met, the other two men went
+straight up to the bar. Smith himself, a grizzled old man, with a
+tobacco-stained gray moustache and beard, and the possessor of a pair of
+narrow, wicked-looking eyes, was serving out whisky to a couple of
+worse-looking half-breeds. It was noticeable that every man present wore
+at his waist either a revolver or a long sheath knife. Even the
+proprietor was fully armed. The half-breeds wore knives.
+
+"Poker" John was apparently a man of distinction here. Possibly the
+knowledge that he played a big game elicited for him a sort of
+indifferent respect. Anyway, the half-breeds moved to allow him to
+approach the bar.
+
+"Lablache here?" asked the rancher, eagerly.
+
+"He is," replied Mr. Smith, in a drawling voice, as he pushed the two
+whiskies across to the waiting half-breeds. "Been here half an hour.
+Jest pass right through, mister. Maybe you'll find him located in number
+two."
+
+There was no doubt that John B. Smith hailed from America. Although the
+Canadian is not devoid of the American accent there is not much doubt of
+nationality when one hears the real thing.
+
+"Good; come on, Doc. No, thanks, Smith," as the man behind the bar
+reached towards a bottle with a white seal. "We'll have something later
+on. Number two on the right, I think you said."
+
+The two men passed on into the back part of the premises.
+
+"Guess dollars'll be flyin' 'fore the night's out," said Smith,
+addressing any who cared to listen, and indicating "Poker" John with a
+jerk of the head in the direction of the door through which the two men
+had just passed. "Make the banks hum when they raise the 'bid.' Guess
+ther' ain't many o' ther' likes roun' these parts. Rye or Scotch?" to
+"Lord" Bill and three other men who came up at that moment. Mancha and
+"Pickles" were with him, and a fourth player--the deposed captain of the
+"round-up," Sim Lory.
+
+"Scotch, you old heathen, of course," replied Bill, with a tolerant
+laugh. "You don't expect us to drink fire-water. If you kept decent Rye
+it would be different. We're going to have a flutter. Any room?"
+
+"Number two, I guess. Chock-a-block in the others. Tolerable run on
+poker these times. All the round-up hands been gettin' advances, I take
+it. Say when."
+
+The four men said "when" in due course, and each watered his own whisky.
+The proprietor went on, with a quick twinkle of his beady eyes,--
+
+"Ther's Mr. Allandale an' Lablache and company in number two. Nobody
+else, I guess. I've a notion you'll find plenty of room. Chips, no? All
+right; goin' to play a tidy game? Good!"
+
+The four men, having swallowed their drink, followed in the footsteps of
+the others.
+
+There was something very brisk and business-like about this
+gambling-hell. Early settlers doubtless remember in the days of
+"prohibition," when four per cent. beer was supposed to be the only
+beverage of the country, and before rigid legislation, backed by the
+armed force of the North-West Mounted Police, swept these frightful
+pollutions from the fair face of the prairie, how they thrived on the
+encouragement of gambling and the sale of contraband spirits. The West
+is a cleaner country now, thanks to the untiring efforts of the police.
+
+In number two "Poker" John and his companions were already getting to
+work when Bill and his friends entered. Beyond a casual remark they
+seemed to take little notice of each other. One and all were eager to
+begin the play.
+
+A deep silence quickly fell upon the room. It was the silence of
+suppressed excitement. A silence only broken by monosyllabic and almost
+whispered betting and "raising" as the games proceeded. An hour passed
+thus. At the table where Lablache and John Allandale were playing the
+usual luck prevailed. The money-lender seemed unable to do wrong, and at
+the other table Bunning-Ford was faring correspondingly badly. Pedro
+Mancha, the Mexican, a man of obscure past and who lived no one quite
+knew how, but who always appeared to find the necessary to gamble with,
+was the favored one of dame Fortune. Already he had heaped before him a
+pile of "bills" and I.O.U.'s most of which bore "Lord" Bill's signature.
+Looking on at either table, no one from outward signs could have said
+which way the luck was going. Only the scribblings of the pencils upon
+the memo pads and the gradual accumulation of the precious slips of
+paper before Lablache at one table and the wild-eyed, dark-skinned
+Mexican at the other, told the story of the ruin which was surely being
+accomplished.
+
+At length, with a loser's privilege, Bunning-Ford, after glancing at his
+watch, rose from the table. His lean face was in no way disturbed. He
+seemed quite indifferent to his losses.
+
+"I'll quit you, Pedro," he said, smiling lazily down at the Mexican.
+"You're a bit too hot for me to-day."
+
+The dark-skinned man smiled a vague, non-committing smile and displayed
+a double row of immaculate teeth.
+
+"Good. You shall have your revenge. Doubtless you would like some of
+these papers back," he said, as he swept them leisurely into his
+pocket-book, and then sugar-bagging a cigarette paper he poured a few
+grains of granulated tobacco into it.
+
+"Yes, I daresay I shall relieve you of some later on," replied Bill,
+quietly. Then he turned to the other table and stood watching the play.
+
+He glanced anxiously at the bare table in front of the old rancher. Even
+Dr. Abbot was well stocked with slips of paper. Then his gaze fell upon
+the money-lender, behind whose huge back he was standing.
+
+He moved slightly to one side. It is an unwritten law amongst poker
+players, in a public place in the west of the American continent, that
+no onlooker should stand immediately behind any player. He moved to
+Lablache's right. The money-lender was dealing. "Lord" Bill lit a
+cigarette.
+
+The cards were dealt round. Then the draw. Then Lablache laid the pack
+down. Bunning-Ford had noted these things mechanically. Then something
+caught his attention. It was his very indifference which caused his
+sudden attention. Had he been following the game with his usual keenness
+he would only have been thinking of the betting.
+
+Lablache was writing upon his memo, pad, which was a gorgeous effort in
+silver mounting. One of those oblong blocks with a broad band of
+burnished silver at the binding of the perforated leaves. He knew that
+this was the pad the money-lender always used; anyway, it was similar in
+all respects to his usual memorandum pads.
+
+How it was his attention had become fixed upon that pad he could not
+have told, but now an inspiration came to him. His face remained
+unchanged in its expression, but those lazy eyes of his gleamed wickedly
+as he leisurely puffed at his cigarette.
+
+The bet went round. Lablache raised and raised again. Eventually the
+rancher "saw" him. The other took the pool. No word was spoken, but
+"Lord" Bill gritted his teeth and viciously pitched his cigarette to
+the other end of the room.
+
+During the next two deals he allowed his attention to wander. Lablache
+dropped out one hand, and, in the next, he merely "filled" his "ante"
+and allowed the doctor to take in the pool. John Allandale's face was
+serious. The nervous twitching of the cheek was still, but the drawn
+lines around his mouth were in no way hidden by his gray mustache, nor
+did the eager light which burned luridly in his eyes for one moment
+deceive the onlooker as to the anxiety of mind which his features
+masked.
+
+Now it was Lablache's deal. "Lord" Bill concentrated his attention upon
+the dealer. The money-lender was left-handed. He held the pack in his
+right, and, in dealing, he was slow and slightly clumsy. The object of
+Bunning-Ford's attention quickly became apparent. Each card as it left
+the pack was passed over the burnished silver of the dealer's memorandum
+pad. It was smartly done, and Lablache was assisted by the fact that the
+piece of metal was inclined towards him. There was no necessity to look
+down deliberately to see the reflection of each card as it passed on its
+way to its recipient, a glance--just the glance necessary when dealing
+cards--and the money-lender, by a slight effort of memory, knew every
+hand that was out. Lablache was cheating.
+
+To say that "Lord" Bill was astonished would be wrong. He was not. He
+had long suspected it. The steady run of luck which Lablache had
+persisted in was too phenomenal. It was enough to set the densest
+thinking. Now everything was plain. Standing where he was, Bill had
+almost been able to read the index numerals himself. He gave no sign of
+his discovery. Apparently the matter was of no consequence to him, for
+he merely lit a fresh cigarette and walked towards the door. He turned
+as he was about to pass out.
+
+"What time shall I tell Jacky to expect you home, John?" he said
+quietly, addressing the old rancher.
+
+Lablache looked up with a swift, malevolent glance, but he said nothing.
+Old John turned a drawn face to the speaker.
+
+"Supper, I guess," he said in a thick voice, husky from long silence.
+"And tell Smith to send me in a bottle of 'white seal' and some
+glasses."
+
+"Right you are." Then "Lord" Bill passed out. "Poker without whisky is
+bad," he muttered as he made his way back to the bar, "but poker and
+whisky together can only be the beginning of the end. We'll see. Poor
+old John!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG
+
+
+It was on the stroke of four o'clock when Bunning-Ford left the saloon.
+He had said that he would be at the ranch at four, and usually he liked
+to be punctual. He was late now, however, and made no effort to make up
+time. Instead, he allowed his horse to walk leisurely in the direction
+of the Allandales' house. He wanted time to think before he again met
+Jacky.
+
+He was confronted by a problem which taxed all his wit. It was perhaps a
+fortunate thing that his was not a hasty temperament. He well knew the
+usual method of dealing with men who cheated at cards in those Western
+wilds. Each man carried his own law in his holster. He had realized
+instantly that Lablache was not a case for the usual treatment. Pistol
+law would have defeated its own ends. Such means would not recover the
+terrible losses of "Poker" John, neither would he recover thereby his
+own lost property. No, he congratulated himself upon the restraint he
+had exercised when he had checked his natural impulse to expose the
+money-lender. Now, however, the case looked more complicated, and, for
+the moment, he could see no possible means of solving the difficulty.
+Lablache must be made to disgorge--but how? John Allandale must be
+stopped playing and further contributing to Lablache's ill-gotten gains.
+Again--but how?
+
+Bill was roused out of his usual apathetic indifference. The moment had
+arrived when he must set aside the old indolent carelessness. He was
+stirred to the core. A duty had been suddenly forced upon him. A duty to
+himself and also a duty to those he loved. Lablache had consistently
+robbed him, and also the uncle of the girl he loved. Now, how to
+restore that property and prevent the villain's further depredations?
+
+Again and again he asked himself the question as he allowed his horse to
+mouche, with slovenly step, over the sodden prairie; but no answer
+presented itself. His thin, eagle face was puckered with perplexity. The
+sleepy eyes gleamed vengefully from between his half-closed eyelids as
+he gazed across the sunlit prairie. His aquiline nose, always bearing a
+resemblance to an eagle's beak, was rendered even more like that
+aristocratic proboscis by reason of the down-drawn tip, consequent upon
+the odd pursing of his tightly-compressed lips. For the moment "Lord"
+Bill was at a loss. And, oddly enough, he began to wonder if, after all,
+silence had been his best course.
+
+He was still struggling in the direst perplexity when he drew up at the
+veranda of the ranch. Dismounting, he hitched his picket rope to the
+tying-post and entered the sitting-room by the open French window. Tea
+was set upon the table and Jacky was seated before the stove.
+
+"Late, Bill, late! Guess that 'plug' of yours is a rapid beast, judging
+by the pace you came up the hill."
+
+For the moment Bunning-Ford's face had resumed its wonted air of lazy
+good-nature.
+
+"Glad you took the trouble to watch for me, Jacky," he retorted quickly,
+with an attempt at his usual lightness of manner. "I appreciate the
+honor."
+
+"Nothing of the sort. I was looking for uncle. The mail brought a letter
+from Calford. Dawson, the cattle buyer of the Western Railway Company,
+wants to see him. The Home Government are buying largely. He is
+commissioned to purchase 30,000 head of prime beeves. Come along, tea's
+ready."
+
+Bill seated himself at the table and Jacky poured out the tea. She was
+dressed for the saddle.
+
+"Where is Dawson now?" asked Bill.
+
+"Calford. Guess he'll wait right there for uncle."
+
+Suddenly a look of relief passed across the man's face.
+
+"This is Wednesday. At six o'clock the mail-cart goes back to town. Send
+some one down to the _saloon_ at once, and John will be able to go in
+to-night."
+
+As Bill spoke his eyes encountered a direct and steady glance from the
+girl. There was much meaning in that mute exchange. For answer Jacky
+rose and rang a bell sharply.
+
+"Send a hand down to the settlement to find my uncle. Ask him to come up
+at once. There is an important letter awaiting him," she said, to the
+old servant who answered the summons.
+
+"Bill, what's up?" she went on, when the retainer had departed.
+
+"Lots. Look here, Jacky, we mustn't be long over tea. We must both be
+out of the house when your uncle returns. He may not want to go into
+town to-night. Anyway, I don't want to give him the chance of asking any
+questions until we have had a long talk. He's losing to Lablache again."
+
+"Ah! I don't want anything to eat. Whenever you are ready, Bill, I am."
+
+Bunning-Ford drank his tea and rose from the table. The girl followed
+his example.
+
+There was something very strong and resolute in the brisk,
+ready-for-emergency ways of this girl. There was nothing of the
+ultra-feminine dependence and weakness of her sex about her. And yet her
+hardiness detracted in no way from her womanly charm; rather was that
+complex abstract enhanced by her wonderful self-reliance. There are
+those who decry independence in women, but surely only such must come
+from those whose nature is largely composed of hectoring selfishness.
+There was a resolute set of the mouth as Jacky sent word to the stables
+to have her horse brought round. She asked no questions of her
+companion, as, waiting for compliance with her orders, she drew on her
+stout buckskin gauntlets. She understood this man well enough to be
+aware that his suggestion was based upon necessity. "Lord" Bill rarely
+interfered with anything or anybody, but when such an occasion arose his
+words carried a deal of weight with those who knew him.
+
+A few minutes later and they were both riding slowly down the avenue of
+pines leading from the house. The direction in which they were moving
+was away from the settlement, down towards where the great level flat of
+the muskeg began. At the end of the avenue they turned directly to the
+southeast, leaving the township behind them. The prairie was soft and
+springy. There was still a keen touch of winter in the fresh spring air.
+The afternoon sun was shining coldly athwart the direction of their
+route.
+
+Jacky led the way, and, as they drew clear of the bush, and the house
+and settlement were hidden from view behind them, she urged her horse
+into a good swinging lope. Thus they progressed in silence. The
+far-reaching deadly mire on their right, looking innocent enough in the
+shadow of the snow-clad peaks beyond, the ranch well behind them in the
+hollow of the Foss River Valley, whilst, on their left, the mighty
+prairie rolled away upwards to the higher level of the surrounding
+country.
+
+In this way they covered nearly a mile, then the girl drew up beside a
+small clump of weedy bush.
+
+"Are you ready for the plunge, Bill?" she asked, as her companion drew
+up beside her. "The path's not more than four feet wide. Does your
+'plug' shy any?"
+
+"He's all right. You lead right on. Where you can travel I've a notion
+I'm not likely to funk. But I don't see the path."
+
+"I guess you don't. Never did nature keep her secret better than in the
+setting out of this one road across her woeful man-trap. You can't see
+the path, but I guess it's an open book to me, and its pages ain't
+Hebrew either. Say, Bill, there's been many a good prairie man looking
+for this path, but"--with a slight accent of exultation--"they've never
+found it. Come on. Old Nigger knows it; many a time has he trodden its
+soft and shaking surface. Good old horse!" and she patted the black neck
+of her charger as she turned his head towards the distant hills and
+urged him forward with a "chirrup."
+
+Far across the muskeg the distant peaks of the mountain range glistened
+in the afternoon sun like diamond-studded sugar loaves. So high were the
+clouds that every portion of the mighty summits was clearly outlined.
+The great ramparts of the prairie are a magnificent sight on a clear
+day. Flat and smooth as any billiard-table stretched this silent,
+mysterious muskeg, already green and fair to the eye, an alluring
+pasture to the unwary. An experienced eye might have judged it too
+green--too alluring. Could a more perfect trap be devised by evil human
+ingenuity than this? Think for one instant of a bottomless pit of liquid
+soil, absorbing in its peculiar density. Think of all the horrors of a
+quicksand, which, embracing, sucks down into its cruel bosom the
+despairing victim of its insatiable greed. Think of a thin, solid crust,
+spread like icing upon a cake and concealing the soft, spongy matter
+beneath, covering every portion of the cruel plain; a crust which yields
+a crop of luxurious, enticing grass of the most perfect emerald hue; a
+crust firm in itself and dry looking, and yet not strong enough to bear
+the weight of a good-sized terrier. And what imagination can possibly
+conceive a more cruel--more perfect trap for man or beast? Woe to the
+creature which trusts its weight upon that treacherous crust. For one
+fleeting instant it will sway beneath the tread, then, in the flash of a
+thought, it will break, and once the surface gives no human power can
+save the victim. Down, down into the depths must the poor wretch be
+plunged, with scarce time to offer a prayer to God for the poor soul
+which so swiftly passes to its doom. Such is the muskeg; and surely more
+terrible is it than is that horror of the navigator--the quicksands.
+
+The girl led the way without as much as a passing thought for the
+dangers which surrounded her. Truly had her companion said "I don't see
+the path," for no path was to be seen. But Jacky had learned her lesson
+well--and learned it from one who read the prairie as the Bedouin reads
+the desert. The path was there and with a wondrous assurance she
+followed its course.
+
+The travelers moved silently along. No word was spoken; each was wrapped
+in thought. Now and again a stray prairie chicken would fly up from
+their path with a whirr, and speed across the mire, calling to its mate
+as it went. The drowsy chirrup of frogs went on unceasingly around, and
+already the ubiquitous mosquito was on the prowl for human gore.
+
+The upstanding horses now walked with down-drooped heads, with sniffing
+noses low towards the ground, ears cocked, and with alert, careful
+tread, as if fully alive to the danger of their perilous road. The
+silence of that ride teemed with a thrill of danger. Half an hour passed
+and then the girl gathered up her reins and urged her willing horse into
+a canter.
+
+"Come on, Bill, the path is more solid now, and wider. The worst part is
+on the far side," she called back over her shoulder.
+
+Her companion followed her unquestioningly.
+
+The sun was already dipping towards the distant peaks and already a
+shadowy haze was rising upon the eastern prairie. The chill of winter
+grew keener as the sun slowly sank.
+
+Two-thirds of the journey were covered and Jacky, holding up a warning
+hand, drew up her horse. Her companion came to a stand beside her.
+
+"The path divides in three here," said the girl, glancing keenly down at
+the fresh green grass. "Two of the branches are blind and end abruptly
+further on. Guess we must avoid 'em," she went on shortly, "unless we
+are anxious to punctuate our earthly career. This is the one we must
+take," turning her horse to the left path. "Keep your eye peeled and
+stick to Nigger's footprints."
+
+The man did as he was bid, marvelling the while at the strange knowledge
+of his companion. He had no fear; he only wondered. The trim, graceful
+figure on the horse ahead of him occupied all his thoughts. He watched
+her as, with quiet assurance she guided her horse. He had known Jacky
+for years. He had watched her grow to womanhood, but although her
+up-bringing must of necessity have taught her an independence and
+courage given to few women, he had never dreamt of the strength of the
+sturdy nature she was now displaying. Again his thoughts went to the
+tales of the gossips of the settlement, and the strange figure of the
+daring cattle-thief loomed up over his mental horizon. He rode, and as
+he rode he wondered. The end Of this journey would be a fitting place
+for the explanations which must take place between them.
+
+At length the shaking path came to an end and the mire was crossed. A
+signal from the girl brought her companion to her side.
+
+"We have crossed it," she said, glancing up at the sun, and indicating
+the muskeg with a backward jerk of her head. "Now for the horse."
+
+"What about your promise to tell me about Peter Retief?"
+
+"Guess being the narrator you must let me take my time."
+
+She smiled up into her companion's eagle face.
+
+"The horse is a mile or so further up towards the foothills. Come
+along."
+
+They galloped side by side over the moist, springy grass--moist with the
+recently-melted snow. "Lord" Bill was content to wait her pleasure.
+Suddenly the man brought his horse up with a severe "yank."
+
+"What's up?" The girl's beautiful eyes were fixed upon the ground with a
+peculiar instinct. Bill pointed to the ground on the side furthest from
+his companion.
+
+"Look!"
+
+Jacky gazed at the spot indicated.
+
+"The tracks of the horse," she said sharply.
+
+She was on the ground in an instant and inspecting the hoof-prints
+eagerly, with that careful study acquired by experience.
+
+"Well?" said the other, as she turned back to her horse.
+
+"Recent." Then in an impressive tone which her companion failed to
+understand, "That horse has been shod. The shoes are off--all except a
+tiny bit on his off fore. We must track it."
+
+They now separated and rode keeping the hoof-prints between them. The
+marks were quite fresh and so plain in the soft ground that they were
+able to ride at a good pace. The clear-cut indentations led away from
+the mire up the gently-sloping ground. Suddenly they struck upon a path
+that was little more than a cattle-track, and instantly became mingled
+with other hoof-marks, older and going both ways. Hitherto the girl had
+ridden with her eyes closely watching the tracks, but now she suddenly
+raised her sweet, weather-tanned face to her companion, and, with a
+light of the wildest excitement in her eyes, she pointed along the path
+and set her horse at a gallop.
+
+"Come on! I know," she cried, "right on into the hills."
+
+Bill followed willingly enough, but he failed to understand his
+companion's excitement. After all they were merely bent upon "roping" a
+stray horse. The girl galloped on at breakneck speed; the heavy black
+ringlets of hair were swept like an outspread fan from under the broad
+brim of her Stetson hat, her buckskin bodice ballooning in the wind as
+rider and horse charged along, utterly indifferent to the nature of the
+country they were traveling--indifferent to everything except the mad
+pursuit of an unseen quarry. Now they were on the summit of some
+eminence whence they could see for miles the confusion of hills, like
+innumerable bee-hives set close together upon an endless plain; now
+down, tearing through a deep hollow, and racing towards another abrupt
+ascent. With every hill passed the country became less green and more
+and more rugged. "Lord" Bill struggled hard to keep the girl in view as
+she raced on--on through the labyrinth of seemingly endless hillocks.
+But at last he drew up on the summit of a high cone-like rise and
+realized that he had lost her.
+
+For a moment he gazed around with that peculiar, all-observing keenness
+which is given to those whose lives are spent in countries where human
+habitation is sparse--where the work of man is lost in the immensity of
+Nature's effort. He could see no sign of the girl. And yet he knew she
+could not be far away. His instincts told him to search for her horse
+tracks. He was sure she had passed that way. While yet he was thinking,
+she suddenly reappeared over the brow of a further hill. She halted at
+the summit, and, seeing him, waved a summons. Her gesticulations were
+excited and he hastened to obey. Down into the intervening valley his
+horse plunged with headlong recklessness. At the bottom there was a
+hard, beaten track. Almost unconsciously he allowed his beast to adopt
+it. It wound round and upwards, at the base of the hill on which Jacky
+was waiting for him. He passed the bend, then, with a desperate,
+backward heave of the body, he "yanked" his horse short up, throwing the
+eager animal on to its haunches.
+
+He had pulled up on what, at first appeared to be the brink of a
+precipice, and what in reality was a declivity, down which only the slow
+and sure foot of a steer or broncho might safely tread. He sat aghast at
+his narrow escape. Then, turning at the sound of a voice behind him, he
+found that Jacky had come down from the hill above.
+
+"See, Bill," she cried, as she drew abreast of his hard-breathing horse,
+"there he is! Down there, peacefully, grazing."
+
+Her excitement was intense, and the hand with which she pointed shook
+like an aspen. Her agitation was incomprehensible to the man. He looked
+down. Hitherto he had seen little beyond the brink at which he had come
+to such a sudden stand. But now, as he gazed down, he beheld a deep
+dark-shadowed valley, far-reaching and sombre. From their present
+position its full extent was beyond the range of vision, but sufficient
+was to be seen to realize that here was one of those vast hiding-places
+only to be found in lands where Nature's fanciful mood has induced the
+mighty upheaval of the world's greatest mountain ranges. On the far side
+of the deep, sombre vale a towering craig rose wall-like, sheer up,
+overshadowing the soft, green pasture deep down at the bottom of the
+yawning gulch. Dense patches of dark, relentless pinewoods lined its
+base, and, over all, in spite of the broad daylight, a peculiar shadow,
+as of evening, added mystery to the haunting view.
+
+It was some seconds before the man was able to distinguish the tiny
+object which had roused the girl to such unaccountable excitement. When
+he did, however, he beheld a golden chestnut horse quietly grazing as it
+made its way leisurely towards the ribbon-like stream which flowed in
+the bosom of the mysterious valley. "Lord" Bill's voice was quite
+emotionless when he spoke.
+
+"Ah, a chestnut!" he said quietly. "Well, our quest is vain. He is
+beyond our reach."
+
+For a moment the girl looked at him in indignant surprise. Then her mood
+changed and she nearly laughed outright. She had forgotten that this man
+as yet knew nothing of what had all along been in her thoughts. As yet
+he knew nothing of the secret of this hollow. To her it meant a world of
+recollection--a world of stirring adventure and awful hazard. When first
+she had seen that horse, grazing within sight of her uncle's house, her
+interest had been aroused--suspicions had been sent teeming through her
+brain. Her thoughts had flown to the man whom she had once known, and
+who was now dead. She had believed his horse had died with him. And now
+the strange apparition had yielded up its secret. The beast had been
+traced to the old, familiar haunt, and what had been only suspicion had
+suddenly become a startling reality.
+
+"Ah, I forgot," she replied, "you don't understand. That is Golden
+Eagle. Can't you see, he has the fragments of his saddle still tied
+round his body. To think of it--and after two years."
+
+Her companion still seemed dense.
+
+"Golden Eagle?" he repeated questioningly. "Golden Eagle?" The name
+seemed familiar but he failed to comprehend.
+
+"Yes, yes," the girl broke out impatiently. "Golden Eagle--Peter
+Retief's horse. The grandest beast that ever stepped the prairie. See,
+he is keeping watch over his master's old
+hiding-place--faithful--faithful to the memory of the dead."
+
+"And this is--is the haunt of Peter Retief," Bill exclaimed, his
+interest centering chiefly upon the yawning valley before him.
+
+"Yes--follow me closely, and we'll get right along down. Say, Bill, we
+must round up that animal."
+
+For a fleeting space the man looked dubious, then, with lips pursed, and
+a quiet look of resolution in his sleepy eyes, he followed in his
+companion's wake. The grandeur--the solitude--the mystery and
+associations, conveyed by the girl's words, of the place were upon him.
+These things had set him thinking.
+
+The tortuous course of that perilous descent occupied their full
+attention, but, at length, they reached the valley in safety. Now,
+indeed, was a wonderful scene disclosed. Far as the eye could reach the
+great hollow extended. Deep and narrow; deep in the heart of the hills
+which towered upon either side to heights, for the most part,
+inaccessible, precipitous. It was a wondrous gulch, hidden and
+unsuspected in the foothills, and protected by those amazing wilds, in
+which the ignorant or unwary must infallibly be lost. It was a perfect
+pasture, a perfect hiding-place, watered by a broad running stream;
+sheltered from all cold and storm. No wonder then that the celebrated
+outlaw, Peter Retief, had chosen it for his haunt and the harborage of
+his ill-gotten stock.
+
+With characteristic method the two set about "roping" the magnificent
+crested horse they had come to capture. They soon found that he was
+wild--timid as a hare. Their task looked as though it would be one of
+some difficulty.
+
+At first Golden Eagle raced recklessly from point to point. And so long
+as this lasted his would-be captors could do little but endeavor to
+"head" him from one to the other, in the hope of getting him within
+range of the rope. Then he seemed suddenly to change his mind, and, with
+a quick double, gallop towards the side of the great chasm. A cry of
+delight escaped the girl as she saw this. The horse was making for the
+mouth of a small cavern which had been boarded over, and, judging by the
+door and window in the woodwork, had evidently been used as a dwelling
+or a stable. It was the same instinct which led him to this place that
+had caused the horse to remain for two years the solitary tenant of the
+valley. The girl understood, and drew her companion's attention. The
+capture at once became easy. Keeping clear of the cave they cautiously
+herded their quarry towards it. Golden Eagle was docile enough until he
+reached the, to him, familiar door. Then, when he found that his
+pursuers still continued to press in upon him, he took alarm, and,
+throwing up his head, with a wild, defiant snort he made a bolt for the
+open.
+
+Instantly two lariats whirled through the air towards the crested neck.
+One missed its mark, but the other fell, true as a gun-shot over the
+small, thoroughbred head. It was Jacky's rope which had found its mark.
+A hitch round the horn of her saddle, and her horse threw himself back
+with her forefeet braced, and faced the captive. Then the rope tightened
+with a jerk which taxed its rawhide strands to their utmost. Instantly
+Golden Eagle, after two years' freedom, stood still; he knew that once
+more he must return to captivity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW
+
+
+Jacky held her treasure fast. The choking grip of the running noose
+quieted Golden Eagle into perfect docility. Bunning-Ford was off his
+horse in a moment. Approaching the primitive dwelling he forced open the
+crazy door. It was a patchwork affair and swung back on a pair of hinges
+which lamented loudly as the accumulation of rust were disturbed. The
+interior was essentially suggestive of the half-breed, and his guess at
+its purpose had been a shrewd one. Part storehouse for forage, part
+bedroom, and part stable, it presented a squalid appearance. The portion
+devoted to stable-room was far in the back; the curious apparatus which
+constituted the bed was placed under the window.
+
+The man propped the door open, and then went to relieve the girl from
+the strain of holding her captive. Seizing the lariat he gripped it
+tightly and proceeded to pass slowly, hand over hand, towards the
+beautiful, wild-eyed chestnut. Golden Eagle seemed to understand, for,
+presently, the tension of the rope relaxed. For a moment the animal
+looked fearfully around and snorted, then, as "Lord" Bill determinedly
+attempted to lead him, he threw himself backward. His rebellion lasted
+but for an instant, for, presently, drooping his proud head as though in
+token of submission, he followed his captor quietly into the stable
+which had always been his.
+
+The girl dismounted, and, shortly after, "Lord" Bill rejoined her.
+
+"Well?" she asked, her questioning eyes turned in the direction of the
+cave.
+
+"He's snug enough," Bill replied quietly, glancing at his watch. He
+looked up at the chilly sky, then he seated himself on the edge of a
+boulder which reposed beside the entrance to the stable. "We've just got
+two hours and a half before dark," he added slowly. "That means an hour
+in which to talk." Then he quietly prepared to roll a cigarette. "Now,
+Jacky, let's have your yarn first; after that you shall hear mine."
+
+He leisurely proceeded to pick over the tobacco before rolling it in the
+paper. He was usually particular about his smoke. He centered his
+attention upon the matter now, purposely, so as to give his companion a
+chance to tell her story freely. He anticipated that what she had to
+tell would affect her nearly. But his surmise of the direction in which
+she would be affected proved totally incorrect. Her first words told him
+this.
+
+She hesitated only for the fraction of a second, then she plunged into
+her story with a directness which was always hers.
+
+"This is Bad Man's Hollow--he--he was my half-brother."
+
+So the stories of the gossips were not true. Bill gave a comprehensive
+nod, but offered no comment. Her statement appeared to him to need none.
+It explained itself; she was speaking of Peter Retief.
+
+"Mother was a widow when she married father--widow with one son. Mother
+was a half-breed."
+
+An impressive silence ensued. For a moment a black shadow swept across
+the valley. It was a dense flight of geese winging their way back to the
+north, as the warm sun melted the snow and furnished them with
+well-watered feeding-grounds. The frogs were chirruping loudly down at
+the edge of the stream which trickled its way ever southwards. She went
+on.
+
+"Mother and Peter settled at Foss River at different times. They never
+hit it off. No one knew that there was any relationship between them up
+at the camp. Mother lived in her own shack. Peter located himself
+elsewhere. Guess it's only five years since I learned these things.
+Peter was fifteen years older than I. I take it they made him 'bad' from
+the start. Poor Peter!--still, he was my half-brother."
+
+She conveyed a world of explanation in her last sentence. There was a
+tender, far-away look in her great, sorrowful eyes as she told her jerky
+story. "Lord" Bill allowed himself a side-long glance in her direction,
+then he turned his eyes towards the south end of the valley and
+something very like a sigh escaped him. She had struck a sympathetic
+chord in his heart. He longed to comfort her.
+
+"There's no use in reckoning up Peter's acts. You know 'em as well as I
+do, Bill. He was slick--was Peter," she went on, with an inflection of
+satisfaction. She was returning to a lighter manner as she contemplated
+the cattle-thief's successes. "Cattle, mail-trains, mail-carts--nothing
+came amiss to him. In his own line Peter was a Jo-dandy." Her face
+flushed as she proceeded. The half-breed blood in her was stirred in all
+its passionate strength. "But he'd never have slipped the coyote
+sheriffs or the slick red-coats so long as he did without my help. Say,
+Bill," leaning forward eagerly and peering into his face with her
+beautiful glowing eyes, "for three years I just--just lived! Poor Peter!
+Guess I'm reckoned kind of handy 'round a bunch of steers. There aren't
+many who can hustle me. You know that. All the boys on the round-up know
+that. And why? Because I learnt the business from Peter--and Peter
+taught me to shoot quick and straight. Those three years taught me a
+deal, and I take it those things didn't happen for nothing," with a
+moody introspective gaze. "Those years taught me how to look after
+myself--and my uncle. Say, Bill, what I'm telling you may sicken you
+some. I can't help that. Peter was my brother and blood's thicker than
+water. I wasn't going to let him be hunted down by a lot of bloodthirsty
+coyotes who were no better than he. I wasn't going to let my mother's
+flesh feed the crows from the end of a lariat. I helped Peter to steer
+clear of the law--lynch at that--and if he fell at last, a victim to
+the sucking muck of the muskeg, it was God's judgment and not
+man's--that's good enough for me. I'd do it all again, I guess, if--if
+Peter were alive."
+
+"Peter had some shooting on the account against him," said Bill, without
+raising his eyes from the contemplation of his cigarette. The girl
+smiled. The smile hovered for a moment round her mouth and eyes, and
+then passed, leaving her sweet, dark face bathed in the shadow of
+regret. She understood the drift of his remark but in no way resented
+it.
+
+"No, Bill, I steered clear of that. I'd have shot to save Peter, but it
+never came to that. Whatever shooting Peter did was done on his--lonely.
+I jibbed at a frolic that meant--shooting. Peter never let me dirty my
+hands to that extent. Guess I just helped him and kept him posted. If
+I'd had law, they'd have called me accessory after the fact."
+
+"Lord" Bill pondered. His lazy eyes were half-closed. He looked
+indifferent but his thoughts were flowing fast. This girl's story had
+given a fillup to a wild plan which had almost unconsciously found place
+in his active brain. Now he raised his eyes to her face and was
+astonished at the setness of its expression. She reminded him of those
+women in history whose deeds had, at various periods, shaken the
+foundations of empires. There was a deep, smouldering fire in her eyes,
+for which only the native blood in her veins could account. Her
+beautiful face was clouded beneath a somber shadow which is so often
+accredited as a presage of tragedy. Surely her expression was one of a
+great, passionate nature, of a soul capable of a wondrous love, or a
+wondrous--hate. She had seated herself upon the ground with the careless
+abandon of one used to such a resting-place. Her trim riding-boots were
+displayed from beneath the hem of her coarse dungaree habit. Her Stetson
+hat was pushed back on her head, leaving the broad low forehead exposed.
+Her black waving hair streamed about her face, a perfect framing for
+the Van Dyke coloring of her skin. She was very beautiful.
+
+The man shifted his position.
+
+"Tell me," he went on, gazing over towards where a flock of wild ducks
+had suddenly settled upon a reedy swamp, and were noisily revelling in
+the water, "did your uncle know anything about this?"
+
+"Not a soul on God's earth knew. Did you ever suspect anything?"
+
+Bill shook his head.
+
+"Not a thing. I was as well posted on the subject of Peter as any one.
+Sometimes I thought it curious that old John's stock and my own were
+never interfered with. But I had no suspicion of the truth. Peter's
+relationship to your mother--did the Breeds in the settlement know
+anything of it?"
+
+"No--I alone knew."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The girl looked curiously into her companion's face. The tone of his
+exclamation startled her. She wondered towards what end his questions
+were leading. His face was inscrutable; she gained no inspiration from
+it. There was a short pause. She wondered anxiously how her story had
+affected him in regard to herself. After all, she was only a woman--a
+woman of strong affections and deep feelings. Her hardihood, her mannish
+self-reliance, were but outer coverings, the result of the surroundings
+of her daily life. She feared lest he should turn from her in utter
+loathing.
+
+The Hon. Bunning-Ford had no such thoughts, however. Twenty-four hours
+ago her story might have startled him. But now it was different. His was
+as wild and reckless a nature as her own. Law and order were matters
+which he regarded in the light of personal inclinations. He had seen too
+much of the early life on the prairie to be horrified by the part this
+courageous girl had taken in her blood-relative's interests. Under other
+circumstances "Lord" Bill might well have developed into a "bad man"
+himself. As it was, his sympathies were always with those whose daring
+led them into ways of danger and risk of personal safety.
+
+"How far does this valley extend?" he asked abruptly, stepping over as
+though to obtain a view of the southern extremity of the mysterious
+hollow.
+
+"Guess we reckoned it 300 miles. Dead straight into the heart of the
+mountains, then out again sharply into the foot-hills thirty miles south
+of the border. It comes to an end in Montana."
+
+"And Peter disposed of his stock that way--all by himself?" he asked,
+returning to his seat upon the boulder.
+
+"All by himself," the girl repeated, again wondering at the drift of his
+questions. "My help only extended as far as this place. Peter used to
+fatten his stock right here and then run them down into Montana. Down
+there no one knew where he came from, and so wonderfully is this place
+hidden that he was never traced. There is only one approach to it, and
+that's across the keg. In winter that can be crossed anywhere, but no
+sane persons would trust themselves in the foothills at that time of
+year. For the rest it can only be crossed by the secret path. This
+valley is a perfectly-hidden natural road for illicit traffic."
+
+"Wonderful." The man permitted a smile to spread over his thin, eagle
+face. "Peter's supposed to have made a pile of money."
+
+"Yes, I guess Peter sunk a pile of dollars. He hid his bills right here
+in the valley," Jacky replied, smiling back into the indolent face
+before her. Then her face became serious again. "The secret of its
+hiding-place died with him--it's buried deep down in the reeking keg."
+
+"And you're sure he died in the 'reeking keg'?" There was a sharp
+intonation in the question. The matter seemed to be of importance in the
+story.
+
+Jacky half started at the eagerness with which the question was put. She
+paused for an instant before replying.
+
+"I believe he died there," she said at length, like one weighing her
+words well, "but it was never clearly proved. Most people think that he
+simply cleared out of the country. I picked up his hat close beside the
+path, and the crust of the keg had been broken. Yes, I believe he died
+in the muskeg. Had he lived I should have known."
+
+"But how comes it that Golden Eagle is still alive? Surely Peter would
+never have crossed the keg on foot"
+
+The girl looked perplexed for a moment. But her conviction was plainly
+evident.
+
+"No--he wouldn't have walked. Peter drank some."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Once I saved him from taking the wrong track at the point where the
+path forks. He'd been drinking then. Yes," with a quiet assurance, "I
+think he died in the keg."
+
+Her companion seemed to have come to the end of his cross-examination.
+He suddenly rose from his seat. The chattering of the ducks in the
+distance caused him to turn his head. Then he turned again to the girl
+before him. The indolence had gone from his eyes. His face was set, and
+the firm pursing of his lips spoke of a determination arrived at. He
+gazed down at the recumbent figure upon the ground. There was something
+in his gaze which made the girl lower her eyes and look far out down the
+valley.
+
+"This brother of yours--he was tall and thin?"
+
+The girl nodded.
+
+"Am I right in my recollection of him when I say that he was possessed
+of a dark, dark face, lantern jaws, thin--and high, prominent
+cheek-bones?"
+
+"That's so."
+
+She faced him inquiringly as she answered his eager questions.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+He quickly turned again in the direction of the noisy water-fowl. Their
+rollicking gambols sounded joyously on the brooding atmosphere of the
+place. The wintry chill in the air was fast ousting the balmy breath of
+spring. It was a warning of the lateness of the hour.
+
+"Now listen to me," he went on presently, turning again from the
+contemplation of his weird surroundings. "I lost all that was left to me
+from the wreck of my little ranch this afternoon--no, not to Lablache,"
+as the girl was about to pronounce the hated name, "but," with a wintry
+smile, "to another friend of yours, Pedro Mancha. I also discovered,
+this afternoon, the source of Lablache's phenomenal--luck. He has
+systematically robbed both your uncle and myself--" He broke off with a
+bitter laugh.
+
+"My God!"
+
+The girl had sprung to her feet in her agitation. And a rage
+indescribable flamed into her face. The fury there expressed appalled
+him, and he stood for a moment waiting for it to abate. What terrible
+depths had he delved into? The hidden fires of a passionate nature are
+more easily kept under than checked in their blasting career when once
+the restraining will power is removed. For an instant it seemed that she
+must choke. Then she hurled her feelings into one brief, hissing
+sentence.
+
+"Lablache--I hate him!"
+
+And the man realized that he must continue his story.
+
+"Yes, we lost our money not fairly, but by--cheating. I am ruined, and
+your uncle--" Bill shrugged.
+
+"My uncle--God help him!"
+
+"I do not know the full extent of his losses, Jacky--except that they
+have probably trebled mine."
+
+"But I know to what extent the hound has robbed him," Jacky answered in
+a tone of such bitter hatred as to cause her companion to glance
+uneasily at the passionate young face before him. "I know, only too
+well. And right thoroughly has Lablache done his work. Say, Bill, do you
+know that that skunk holds mortgages on our ranch for two hundred
+thousand dollars? And every bill of it is for poker. For twenty years,
+right through, he has steadily sucked the old man's blood. Slick? Say a
+six-year-old steer don't know more about a branding-iron than does
+Verner Lablache about his business. For every dollar uncle's lost he's
+made him sign a mortgage. Every bit of paper has the old man had to
+redeem in that way. What he's done lately--I mean uncle--I can't say.
+But Lablache held those mortgages nearly a year ago."
+
+"Whew--" "Lord" Bill whistled under his breath. "Gee-whittaker. It's
+worse than I thought. 'Poker' John's losses during the last winter, to
+my knowledge, must have amounted to nearly six figures--the devil!"
+
+"Ruin, ruin, ruin!"
+
+The girl for a moment allowed womanly feeling to overcome her, for, as
+her companion added his last item to the vast sum which she had quoted,
+she saw, in all its horrible nakedness, the truth of her uncle's
+position. Then she suddenly forced back the tears which had struggled
+into her eyes, and, with indomitable courage, faced the catastrophe.
+
+"But can't we fight him--can't we give him--"
+
+"Law? I'm afraid not," Bill interrupted. "Once a mortgage is signed the
+debt is no longer a gambling debt. Law is of no use to us, especially
+here on the prairie. There is only one law which can save us. Lablache
+must disgorge."
+
+"Yes--yes! For every dollar he has stolen let him pay ten."
+
+The passionate fire in her eyes burned more steadily now. It was the
+fire which is unquenchable--the fire of a lasting hate, vengeful,
+terrible. Then her tone dropped to a contemplative soliloquy.
+
+"But how?" she murmured, looking away towards the stream in the heart of
+the valley, as though in search of inspiration.
+
+Bunning-Ford smiled as he heard the half-whispered question. But his
+smile was not pleasant to look upon. All the latent recklessness which
+might have made of him a good soldier or a great scoundrel was roused in
+him. He was passing the boundary which divides the old Adam, which is in
+every man, from the veneer of early training. He was
+mutely--unconsciously--calling to his aid the savage instincts which the
+best of men are not without. His face expressed something of what was
+passing within his active brain, and the girl before him, as she turned
+and watched the working features, usually so placid--indifferent, knew
+that she was to see a side of his character always suspected by her but
+never before made apparent. His thoughts at last found vent in words of
+almost painful intensity.
+
+"How?" he said, repeating the question as though it had been addressed
+to himself. "He shall pay--pay! Everlastingly pay! So long as I have
+life--and liberty, he shall pay!"
+
+Then as if anticipating a request for explanation he told her the means
+by which Lablache had consistently cheated. The girl listened,
+speechless with amazement. She hung upon his every word. At the
+conclusion of his story she put an abrupt question.
+
+"And you gave no sign? He doesn't suspect that you know?"
+
+"He suspects nothing."
+
+"Good. You are real smart, Bill. Yes, shooting's no good. This is no
+case for shooting. What do you propose? I see you mean business."
+
+The man was still smiling but his smile had suddenly changed to one of
+kindly humor.
+
+"First of all Jacky," he said, taking a step towards her, "I can do
+nothing without your help. I propose that you share this task with me.
+No, no, I don't mean in that way," as she commenced to assure him of her
+assistance. "What I mean is that--that I love you, dear. I want you to
+give me the right to protect--your uncle."
+
+He finished up with his hands stretched out towards her. Golden Eagle
+stirred in his stable, and the two heard him whinny as if in approval.
+Then as the girl made no answer Bill went on: "Jacky, I am a ruined man.
+I have nothing, but I love you better than life itself. We now have a
+common purpose in life. Let us work together."
+
+His voice sank to a tender whisper. He loved this motherless girl who
+was fighting the battle of life single-handed against overwhelming
+odds, with all the strength of his nature. He had loved her ever since
+she had reached woman's estate. In asking for a return of his affections
+now he fully realized the cruelty of his course. He knew that the
+future--his future--was to be given up to the pursuit of a terrible
+revenge. And he knew that, in linking herself with him, she would
+perforce be dragged into whatever wrong-doing his contemplated revenge
+might lead him. And yet he dared not pause. It all seemed so plain--so
+natural--that they should journey through the crooked, paths of the
+future together. Was she not equally determined upon a terrible revenge?
+
+He waited in patience for his answer. Suddenly she looked up into his
+face and gently placed her hands in his. Her answer came with simple
+directness.
+
+"Do you really, Bill? I am glad--yes, glad right through. I love you,
+too. Say, you're sure you don't think badly of me because--because I'm
+Peter's sister?"
+
+There was a smiling, half-tearful look in her eyes--those expressive
+eyes which, but a moment before, had burnt with a vengeful fire--as she
+asked the question. After all her nature was wondrously simple.
+
+"Why should I, dear?" he replied, bending and kissing the gauntleted
+hands which rested so lovingly in his. "My life has scarcely been a
+Garden of Eden before the Fall. And I don't suppose my future, even
+should I escape the laws of man, is likely to be most creditable. Your
+past is your own--I have no right nor wish to criticise. Henceforth we
+are united in a common cause. Our hand is turned against one whose power
+in this part of the country is almost absolute. When we have wrested his
+property from him, to the uttermost farthing, we will cry quits--"
+
+"And on the day that sees Lablache's downfall, Bill, I will become your
+wife."
+
+There was a pause. Then Bill drew her towards him and they sealed the
+compact with one long embrace. They were roused to the matters of the
+moment by another whinny from Golden Eagle, who was chafing at his
+forced imprisonment.
+
+The two stood back from one another, hand in hand, and smiled as they
+listened to the tuneful plaint. Then the man unfolded a wonderful plan
+to this girl whom he loved. Her willing ears drank in the details like
+one whose heart is set with a great purpose. They also talked of their
+love in their own practical way. There was little display of sentiment.
+They understood without that. Their future was not alluring, unless
+something of the man's strange plan appealed to the wild nature of the
+prairie which, by association, has somehow become affiliated with
+theirs. In that quiet, evening-lit valley these two people arranged to
+set aside the laws of man and deal out justice as they understood it. An
+eye for an eye--a tooth for a tooth; fortune favoring, a cent, per cent,
+interest in each case. The laws of the prairie, in those days always
+uncertain, were more often governed by human passions than the calm
+equity of unbiased jurymen. And who shall say that their idea of justice
+was wrong? Two "wrongs," it has been said, do not make one "right." But
+surely it is not a human policy when smote upon one cheek to turn the
+other for a similar chastisement.
+
+"Then we leave Golden Eagle where he is," said Jacky, as she remounted
+her horse and they prepared to return home.
+
+"Yes. I will see to him," Bill replied, urging his horse into a canter
+towards the winding ascent which was to take them home.
+
+The ducks frolicking in their watery playground chattered and flapped
+their heavy wings. The frogs in their reedy beds croaked and chirruped
+without ceasing. And who shall say how much they had heard, or had seen,
+or knew of that compact sealed in Bad Man's Hollow?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+LABLACHE'S "COUP"
+
+
+Lablache was seated in a comfortable basket chair in his little back
+office. He preferred a basket chair--he knew its value. He had tried
+other chairs of a less yielding nature, but they were useless to support
+his weight; he had broken too many, and they were expensive--there is
+nothing more durable than a strong basket chair. Lablache appreciated
+strength combined with durability, especially when the initial outlay
+was reduced to a minimum.
+
+His slippered feet were posted on the lower part of the self-feeding
+stove and he gazed down, deep in thought, at the lurid glow of the fire
+shining through the mica sides of the firebox.
+
+A clock was ticking away with that peculiar, vibrating aggressiveness
+which characterizes the cheap American "alarm." The bare wood of the
+desk aggravated the sound, and, in the stillness of the little room, the
+noise pounded exasperatingly on the ear-drums. From time to time he
+turned his great head, and his lashless eyes peered over at the paper
+dial of the clock. Once or twice he stirred with a suggestion of
+impatience. At times his heavy breathing became louder and shorter, and
+he seemed about to give expression to some irritable thought.
+
+At last his bulk heaved and he removed his feet from the stove. Then he
+slowly raised himself from the depths of the yielding chair. His
+slippered feet shuffled over the floor as he moved towards the window.
+The blind was down, but he drew it aside and wiped the steam from the
+glass pane with his soft, fat hand. The night was black--he could see
+nothing of the outside world. It was nearly an hour since he had left
+the saloon where he had been playing poker with John Allandale. He
+appeared to be waiting for some one, and he wanted to go to bed.
+
+Once more he returned to his complaining chair and lowered himself into
+it. The minutes slipped by. Lablache did not want to smoke; he felt that
+he must do something to soothe his impatience, so he chewed at the
+quicks of his finger-nails.
+
+Presently there came a tap at the window. The money-lender ponderously
+rose, and, cautiously opening the door, admitted the dark, unkempt form
+of Pedro Mancha. There was no greeting; neither spoke until Lablache had
+again secured the door. Then the money-lender turned his fishy eyes and
+mask-like face to the newcomer. He did not suggest that his visitor
+should sit down. He merely looked with his cold, cruel eyes, and spoke.
+
+"Well?--been drinking."
+
+The latter part of his remark was an assertion. He knew the Mexican
+well. The fellow had an expressive countenance, unlike most of his race,
+and the least sign of drink was painfully apparent upon it. The man was
+not drunk but his wild eyes testified to his recent libations.
+
+"Guess you've hit it right thar," he retorted indifferently.
+
+It was noticeable that this man had adopted the high-pitched, keen tone
+and pronounced accent of the typical "South-Westerner." In truth he was
+a border Mexican; a type of man closely allied to the "greaser." He was
+a perfect scoundrel, who had doubtless departed from his native land for
+the benefit of that fair but swarming hornet's nest.
+
+"It's a pity when you have business on hand you can't leave that 'stuff'
+alone."
+
+Lablache made no effort to conceal his contempt. He even allowed his
+mask-like face to emphasize his words.
+
+"You're almighty pertickler, mister. You ask for dirty work to be done,
+an' when that dirty work's done, gorl-darn-it you croak like a
+flannel-mouthed temperance lecturer. Guess I came hyar to talk straight
+biz. Jest leave the temperance track, an' hit the main trail."
+
+Pedro's face was not pretty to look upon. The ring of white round the
+pupils of his eyes gave an impression of insanity or animal ferocity.
+The latter was his chief characteristic. His face was thin and scored
+with scars, mainly long and narrow. These, in a measure, testified to
+his past. His mouth, half hidden beneath a straggling mustache, was his
+worst feature. One can only liken it to a blubber-lipped gash, lined
+inside with two rows of yellow fangs, all in a more or less bad state of
+decay.
+
+The two men eyed one another steadily for a moment. Lablache could in no
+way terrorize this desperado. Like all his kind this man was ready to
+sell his services to any master, provided the forthcoming price of such
+services was sufficiently exorbitant. He was equally ready to play his
+employer up should any one else offer a higher price. But Lablache, when
+dealing with such men, took no chances. He rarely employed this sort of
+man, preferring to do his own dirty work, but when he did, he knew it
+was policy to be liberal. Pedro served him well as a rule, consequently
+the Mexican was enabled to ruffle it with the best in the settlement,
+whilst people wondered where he got his money from. Somehow they never
+thought of Lablache being the source of this man's means; the
+money-lender was not fond of parting.
+
+"You are right, I am particular. When I pay for work to be done I don't
+want gassing over a bar. I know what you are when the whisky is in you."
+
+Lablache stood with his great back to the fire watching his man from
+beneath his heavy lids. Bad as he was himself the presence of this man
+filled him with loathing. Possibly deep down, somewhere in that organ he
+was pleased to consider his heart, he had a faint glimmer of respect for
+an honest man. The Mexican laughed harshly.
+
+"Guess all you know of me, mister, wouldn't make a pile o' literature.
+But say, what's the game to-night?"
+
+Lablache was gnawing his fingers.
+
+"How much did you take from the Honorable?" he asked sharply.
+
+"You told me to lift his boodle. Time was short--he wouldn't play for
+long."
+
+"I'm aware of that. How much?"
+
+Lablache's tone was abrupt and peremptory. Mancha was trying to estimate
+what he should be paid for his work.
+
+"See hyar, I guess we ain't struck no deal yet. What do you propose to
+pay me?"
+
+The Mexican was sharp but he was no match for his employer. He fancied
+he saw a good deal over this night's work.
+
+"You played on paper, I know," said the money-lender, quietly. He was
+quite unmoved by the other's display of cunning. It pleased him rather
+than otherwise. He knew he held all the cards in his hands--he generally
+did in dealing with men of this stamp. "To you, the amounts he lost are
+not worth the paper they are written on. You could never realize them.
+He couldn't meet 'em."
+
+Lablache leisurely took a pinch of snuff from his snuff-box. He coughed
+and sneezed voluminously. His indifferent coolness, his air of
+patronage, aggravated the Mexican while it alarmed him. The deal he
+anticipated began to assume lesser proportions.
+
+"Which means, I take it, you've a notion you'd like the feel of those
+same papers."
+
+Mancha had come to drive a bargain. He was aware that the I.O.U.'s he
+held would take some time to realize on, in the proper quarter, but, at
+the same time, he was quite aware of the fact that Bunning-Ford would
+ultimately meet them.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders with apparent indifference--he meant to
+have them.
+
+"What do you want for the debts? I am prepared to buy--at a reasonable
+figure."
+
+The Mexican propped himself comfortably upon the corner of the desk.
+
+"Say, guess we're talkin' biz, now. His 'lordship' is due to ante up the
+trifle of seven thousand dollars--"
+
+The fellow was rummaging in an inside pocket for the slips of paper. His
+eyes never left his companion's face. The amount startled Lablache, but
+he did not move a muscle.
+
+"You did your work well, Pedro," he said, allowing himself, for the
+first time in this conversation, to recognize that the Mexican had a
+name. He warmed towards a man who was capable of doing another down for
+such a sum in such a short space of time. "I'll treat you well. Two
+thousand spot cash, and you hand over the I.O.U.'s. What say? Is it a
+go?"
+
+"Be damned to you. Two thousand for a certain seven? Not me. Say, what
+d'ye do with the skin when you eat a bananny? Sole your boots with it?
+Gee-whiz! You do fling your bills around."
+
+The Mexican laughed derisively as he jammed the papers back into his
+pocket. But he knew that he would have to sell at the other's price.
+
+Lablache moved heavily towards his desk. Selecting a book he opened it
+at a certain page.
+
+"You can keep them if you like. But you may as well understand your
+position. What's Bunning-Ford worth? What's his ranch worth?"
+
+The other suggested a figure much below the real value.
+
+"It's worth more than that. Fifty thousand if it's worth a cent,"
+Lablache said expansively. "I don't want to do you, my friend, but as
+you said we're talking business now. Here is his account with me, you
+see," pointing to the entries. "I hold thirty-five thousand on first
+mortgage and twenty thousand on bill of sale. In all fifty-five
+thousand, and his interest twelve months in arrears. Now, you refuse to
+part with those papers at my price, and I'll sell him up. You will then
+get not one cent of your money."
+
+The money-lender permitted himself to smile a grim, cold smile. He had
+been careful to make no mention of Bunning-Ford's further assets. He had
+quite forgotten to speak of a certain band of cattle which he knew his
+intended victim to possess. It was a well-known thing that Lablache knew
+more of the financial affairs of the people of the settlement than any
+one else; doubtless the Mexican thought only of "Lord" Bill's ranch.
+Mancha shifted his position uneasily. But there was a cunning look on
+his face as he retorted swiftly,--
+
+"You're a'mighty hasty to lay your hands on his reckoning. How's it that
+you're ready to part two thou' for 'em?"
+
+There was a moment's silence as the two men eyed each other. It seemed
+as if each were endeavoring to fathom the other's thoughts. Then the
+money-lender spoke, and his voice conveyed a concentration of hate that
+bit upon the air with an incisiveness which startled his companion.
+
+"Because I intend to crush him as I would a rattlesnake. Because I wish
+to ruin him so that he will be left in my debt. So that I can hound him
+from this place by holding that debt over his head. It is worth two
+thousand to me to possess that power. Now, will you part?"
+
+This explanation appealed to the worst side of the Mexican's nature.
+This hatred was after his own heart. Lablache was aware that such would
+be the case. That is why he made it. He was accustomed to play upon the
+feelings of people with whom he dealt--as well as their pocket. Pedro
+Mancha grinned complacently. He thought he understood his employer.
+
+"Hand over the bills. Guess I'll part. The price is slim, but it's not a
+bad deal."
+
+Lablache oozed over to the safe. He opened it, keeping one heavy eye
+upon his companion. He took no chances--he trusted no one, especially
+Pedro Mancha. Presently he returned with a roll of notes. It contained
+the exact amount. The Mexican watched him hungrily as he counted out the
+green-backed bills. His lips moistened beneath his mustache--his eyes
+looked wilder than ever. Lablache understood his customer thoroughly. A
+loaded revolver was in his own coat pocket. It is probable that the
+brown-faced desperado knew this.
+
+At last the money-lender held out the money. He held out both hands, one
+to give and the other to receive. Pedro passed him the I.O.U.'s and took
+the bills. One swift glance assured Lablache that the coveted papers
+were all there. Then he pointed to the door.
+
+"Our transaction is over. Go!"
+
+He had had enough of his companion. He had no hesitation in thus
+peremptorily dismissing him.
+
+"You're in a pesky hurry to get rid of me. See hyar, pard, you'd best be
+civil. Your dealin's ain't a sight cleaner than mine."
+
+"I'm waiting." Lablache's tone was coldly commanding. His lashless eyes
+gazed steadily into the other's face. Something the Mexican saw in them
+impelled him towards the door. He moved backwards, keeping his face
+turned towards the money-lender. At this moment Lablache was at his
+best. His was a dominating personality. There was no cowardice in his
+nature--at least no physical cowardice. Doubtless, had it come to a
+struggle where agility was required, he would have fallen an easy prey
+to his lithe companion; but with him, somehow, it never did come to a
+struggle. He had a way with him that chilled any such thought that a
+would-be assailant might have. Will and unflinching courage are splendid
+assets. And, amongst others, this man possessed both.
+
+Mancha slunk back to the door, and, fumbling at the lock, opened it and
+passed out. Lablache instantly whipped out a revolver, and, stepping
+heavily on one side, advanced to the door, paused and listened. He was
+well under cover. The door was open. He was behind it. He knew better
+than to expose himself in the light for Mancha to make a target of him
+from without. Then he kicked the door to. Making a complete circuit of
+the walls of the office he came to the opposite side of the door, where
+he swiftly locked and bolted it. Then he drew an iron shutter across the
+light panelling and secured it.
+
+"Good," he muttered, as, sucking in a heavy breath, he returned to the
+stove and turned his back to it. "It's as well to understand Mexican
+nature."
+
+Then he lounged into his basket chair and rubbed his fleshy hands
+reflectively. There was a triumphant look upon his repulsive features.
+
+"Quite right, friend Pedro, it's not a bad deal," he said to himself,
+blinking at the red light of the fire. "Not half bad. Seven thousand
+dollars for two thousand dollars, and every cent of it realizable." He
+shook with inward mirth. "The Hon. William Bunning-Ford will now have to
+disgorge every stick of his estate. Good, good!"
+
+Then he relapsed into deep thought. Presently he roused himself from his
+reverie and prepared for bed.
+
+"But I'll give him a chance. Yes, I'll give him a chance," he muttered,
+as, after undergoing the simple operation of removing his coat, he
+stretched himself upon his bed and drew the blankets about him. "If
+he'll consent to renounce any claim, fancied or otherwise, he may have
+to Joaquina Allandale's regard I'll refrain from selling him up. Yes,
+Verner Lablache will forego his money--for a time."
+
+The great bed shook as the monumental money-lender suppressed a chuckle.
+Then he turned over, and his stertorous inhalations soon suggested that
+the great man slept.
+
+Shylock, the Jew, determined on having his pound of flesh. But a woman
+outwitted him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"AUNT" MARGARET REFLECTS
+
+
+It was almost dark when Jacky returned to the ranch. She had left "Lord"
+Bill at the brink of the great keg, whence he had returned to his own
+place. Her first thought, on entering the house, was for the letter
+which she had left for her uncle. It was gone. She glanced round the
+room uncertainly. Then she stood gazing into the stove, while she idly
+drummed with her gauntleted fingers upon the back of a chair. She had as
+yet removed neither her Stetson hat nor her gauntlets.
+
+Her strong, dark face was unusually varying in its expression. Possibly
+her thoughts were thus indexed. Now, as she stood watching the play of
+the fire, her great, deep eyes would darken with a grave, almost anxious
+expression; again they would smile with a world of untold happiness in
+their depths. Again they would change, in a flash, to a hard, cold gleam
+of hatred and unyielding purpose; then slowly, a tender expression, such
+as that of a mother for Her new-born babe, would creep into them and
+shine down into the depths of the fire with a world of sweet sympathy.
+But through all there was a tight compression of the lips, which spoke
+of the earnest purpose which governed her thoughts; a slight pucker of
+the brows, which surely told of a great concentration of mind.
+
+Presently she roused herself, and, walking to where a table-bell stood,
+rang sharply upon it. Her summons was almost immediately answered by the
+entry of a servant.
+
+Jacky turned as the door opened, and fired an abrupt question.
+
+"Has Uncle John been in, Mamie?"
+
+The girl's face had resumed its usual strong, kindly expression.
+Whatever was hidden behind that calm exterior, she had no intention of
+giving a chance observer any clew to it.
+
+"No, miss," the servant replied, in that awestruck tone which domestics
+are apt to use when sharply interrogated. She was an intelligent-looking
+girl. Her dark skin and coarse black hair pronounced her a half-breed.
+Her mistress had said "blood is thicker than water." All the domestics
+under Jacky's charge hailed from the half-breed camp.
+
+"Was my message delivered to him?"
+
+Unconcernedly as she spoke she waited with some anxiety for the answer.
+
+"Oh, yes, miss. Silas delivered it himself. The master was in company
+with Mr. Lablache and the doctor, miss," added the girl, discreetly.
+
+"And what did he say?"
+
+"He sent Silas for the letter, miss."
+
+"He didn't say what time he would return, I suppose?"
+
+"No, miss--" She hesitated and fumbled at the door handle.
+
+"Well?" as the girl showed by her attitude that there was something she
+had left unsaid.
+
+Jacky's question rang acutely in the quiet room.
+
+"Silas--" began the girl, with a deprecating air of unbelief--"you know
+what strange notions he takes--he said--"
+
+The girl stopped in confusion under the steady gaze of her mistress.
+
+"Speak up, girl," exclaimed Jacky, impatiently. "What is it?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, miss," the girl blurted out desperately. "Only Silas said
+as the master didn't seem well like."
+
+"Ah! That will do." Then, as the girl still stood at the door, "You can
+go."
+
+The dismissal was peremptory, and the half-breed had no choice but to
+depart. She had hoped to have heard something interesting, but her
+mistress was never given to being communicative with servants.
+
+When the door had closed behind the half-breed Jacky turned again
+towards the stove. Again she was plunged in deep thought. This time
+there could be no mistake as to its tenor. Her heart was racked with an
+anxiety which was not altogether new to it. The sweet face was pale and
+her eyelids flickered ominously. The servant's veiled meaning was quite
+plain to her. Brave, hardy as this girl of the prairie was, the fear
+that was ever in her heart had suddenly assumed the proportions of a
+crushing reality. She loved her uncle with an affection that was almost
+maternal. It was the love of a strong, resolute nature for one of a
+kindly but weak disposition. She loved the gray-headed old man, whose
+affection had made her life one long, long day of happiness, with a
+tenderness which no recently-acquired faults of his could alienate.
+He--and now another--was her world. A world in which it was her joy to
+dwell. And now--now; what of the present? Racked by losses brought about
+through the agency of his all-absorbing passion, the weak old man was
+slowly but surely taking to drowning his consciousness of the appalling
+calamity which he had consistently set to work to bring about, and which
+in his lucid moments he saw looming heavily over his house, in drink.
+She had watched him with the never-failing eye of love, and had seen, to
+her horror, the signs she so dreaded. She could face disaster stoically,
+she could face danger unflinchingly, but this moral wrecking of the old
+man, who had been more to her than a father, was more than she could
+bear. Two great tears welled up into her beautiful, somber eyes and
+slowly rolled down her cheeks. She bowed like a willow bending to the
+force of the storm.
+
+Her weakness was only momentary, however; her courage, bred from the
+wildness of her life surroundings, rose superior to her feminine
+weakness. She dashed her gloved hands across her eyes and wiped the
+tears away. She felt that she must be doing--not weeping. Had not she
+sealed a solemn compact with her lover? She must to work without delay.
+
+She glanced round the room. Her gaze was that of one who wishes to
+reassure herself. It was as if the old life had gone from her and she
+was about to embark on a career new--foreign to her. A career in which
+she could see no future--only the present. She felt like one taking a
+long farewell to a life which had been fraught with nothing but delight.
+The expression of her face told of the pain of the parting. With a heavy
+sigh she passed out of the room--out into the chill night air, where
+even the welcome sounds of the croaking frogs and the lowing cattle were
+not. Where nothing was to cheer her for the work which in the future
+must be hers. Something of that solemn night entered her soul. The gloom
+of disaster was upon her.
+
+It was only a short distance to Dr. Abbot's house. The darkness of the
+night was no hindrance to the girl. Hither she made her way with the
+light, springing step of one whose mind is made up to a definite
+purpose.
+
+She found Mrs. Abbot in. The little sitting-room in the doctor's house
+was delightfully homelike and comfortable. There was nothing pretentious
+about it--just solid comfort. And the great radiating stove in the
+center of it smelt invitingly warm to the girl as she came in out of the
+raw night air. Mrs. Abbot was alternating between a basket of sewing and
+a well-worn, cheap-edition novel. The old lady was waiting with
+patience, the outcome of experience, for the return of her lord to his
+supper.
+
+"Well, 'Aunt' Margaret," said Jacky, entering with the confidence of an
+assured welcome, "I've come over for a good gossip. There's nobody at
+home--up there," with a nod in the direction of the ranch.
+
+"My dear child, I'm so pleased," exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, coming forward
+from her rather rigid seat, and kissing the girl on both cheeks with
+old-fashioned cordiality. "Come and sit by the stove--yes, take that
+hideous hat off, which, by the way, I never could understand your
+wearing. Now, when John and I were first en--"
+
+"Yes, yes, dear. I know what you're going to say," interrupted the girl,
+smiling in spite of the dull aching at her heart. She knew how this
+sweet old lady lived in the past, and she also knew how, to a
+sympathetic ear, she loved to pour out the delights of memory from a
+heart overflowing with a strong affection for the man of her choice.
+Jacky had come here to talk of other matters, and she knew that when
+"Aunt" Margaret liked she could be very shrewd and practical.
+
+Something in the half-wistful smile of her companion brought the old
+lady quickly back from the realms of recollection, and a pair of keen,
+kindly eyes met the steady gray-black orbs of the girl.
+
+"Ah, Jacky, my child, we of the frivolous sex are always being forced
+into considering the mundane matters of everyday life here at Foss
+River. What is it, dear? I can see by your face that you are worrying
+over something."
+
+The girl threw herself into an easy chair, drawn up to the glowing stove
+with careful forethought by the old lady. Mrs. Abbot reseated herself in
+the straight-backed chair she usually affected. She carefully put her
+book on one side and took up some darning, assiduously inserting the
+needle but without further attempt at work. It was something to fix her
+attention on whilst talking. Old Mrs. Abbot always liked to be able to
+occupy her hands when talking seriously. And Jacky's face told her that
+this was a moment for serious conversation.
+
+"Where's the Doc?" the girl asked without preamble. She knew, of course,
+but she used the question by way of making a beginning.
+
+The old lady imperceptibly straightened her back. She now anticipated
+the reason of her companion's coming. She glanced over the top of a pair
+of gold _pince-nez_, which she had just settled comfortably upon the
+bridge of her pretty, broad nose.
+
+"He's down at the saloon playing poker. Why, dear?"
+
+Her question was so innocent, but Jacky was not for a moment deceived by
+its tone. The girl smiled plaintively into the fire. There was no
+necessity for her to disguise her feelings before "Aunt" Margaret, she
+knew. But her loyal nature shrank from flaunting her uncle's weaknesses
+before even this kindly soul. She kept her fencing attitude a little
+longer, however.
+
+"Who is he playing with?" Jacky raised a pair of inquiring gray eyes to
+her companion's face.
+
+"Your uncle and--Lablache."
+
+The shrewd old eyes watched the girl's face keenly. But Jacky gave no
+sign.
+
+"Will you send for him, 'Aunt' Margaret?" said the girl, quietly.
+"Without letting him know that I am here," she added, as an
+afterthought.
+
+"Certainly, dear," the old lady replied, rising with alacrity. "Just
+wait a moment while I send word. Keewis hasn't gone to his teepee yet. I
+set him to clean some knives just now. He can go. These Indians are
+better messengers than they are domestics." Mrs. Abbot bustled out of
+the room.
+
+She returned a moment later, and, drawing her chair beside that of the
+girl, seated herself and rested one soft white hand on those of her
+companion, which were reposing clasped in the lap of her dungaree skirt.
+
+"Now, tell me, dear--tell me all about it--I know, it is your uncle."
+
+The sympathy of her tone could never have been conveyed in mere words.
+This woman's heart expressed its kindliness in voice and eyes. There was
+no resisting her, and Jacky made no effort to do so.
+
+For one instant there flashed into the girl's face a look of utter
+distress. She had come purposely to talk plainly to the woman whom she
+had lovingly dubbed "Aunt Margaret," but she found it very hard when it
+came to the point, She cast about in her mind for a beginning, then
+abandoned the quest and blurted out lamely the very thing from which she
+most shrank.
+
+"Say, auntie, you've observed uncle lately--I mean how strange he is?
+You've noticed how often, now, he is--is not himself?"
+
+"Whisky," said the old lady, uncompromisingly. "Yes, dear, I have. It is
+quite the usual thing to smell' old man Smith's vile liquor when John
+Allandale is about. I'm glad you've spoken. I did not like to say
+anything to you about it. John's on a bad trail."
+
+"Yes, and a trail with a long, downhill gradient," replied Jacky, with a
+rueful little smile. "Say, aunt," she went on, springing suddenly to her
+feet and confronting the old lady's mildly-astonished gaze, "isn't there
+anything we can do to stop him? What is it? This poker and whisky are
+ruining him body and soul. Is the whisky the result of his losses? Or is
+the madness for a gamble the result of the liquor?"
+
+"Neither the one--nor the other, my dear. It is--Lablache."
+
+The older woman bent over her darning, and the needle passed, rippling,
+round a "potato" in the sock which was in her lap. Her eyes were
+studiously fixed upon the work.
+
+"Lablache--Lablache! It is always Lablache, whichever way I turn.
+Gee--but the whole country reeks of him. I tell you right here, aunt,
+that man's worse than scurvy in our ranching world. Everybody and
+everything in Foss River seems to be in his grip."
+
+"Excepting a certain young woman who refuses to be ensnared."
+
+The words were spoken quite casually. But Jacky started. Their meaning
+was driven straight home. She looked down upon the bent, gray head as if
+trying to penetrate to the thought that was passing within. There was a
+moment's impressive silence. The clock ticked loudly in the silence of
+the room. A light wind was whistling rather shrilly outside, round the
+angles of the house.
+
+"Go on, auntie," said the girl, slowly. "You haven't said enough--yet. I
+guess you're thinking mighty--deeply."
+
+Mrs. Abbot looked up from her work. She was smiling, but behind that
+smile there was a strange gravity in the expression of her eyes.
+
+"There is nothing more to say at present." Then she added, in a tone
+from which all seriousness had vanished, "Hasn't Lablache ever asked you
+to marry him?"
+
+A light was beginning to dawn upon the girl.
+
+"Yes--why?"
+
+"I thought so." It was now Mrs. Abbot's turn to rise and confront her
+companion. And she did so with the calm manner of one who is assured
+that what she is about to say cannot be refuted. Her kindly face had
+lost nothing of its sweet expression, only there was something in it
+which seemed to be asking a mute question, whilst her words conveyed the
+statement of a case as she knew it. "You dear, foolish people. Can you
+not see what is going on before your very eyes, or must a stupid old
+woman like myself explain what is patent to the veriest fool in the
+settlement? Lablache is the source of your uncle's trouble, and,
+incidentally, you are the incentive. I have watched--I have little else
+to do in Foss River--you all for years past, and there is little that I
+could not tell you about any of you, as far as the world sees you.
+Lablache has been a source of a world of thought to me. The business
+side of him is patent to everybody. He is hard, flinty, tyrannical--even
+unscrupulous. I am telling you nothing new, I know. But there is another
+side to his character which some of you seem to ignore. He is capable of
+strong passions--ay, very strong passions. He has conceived a passion
+for you. I will call it by no other name in such an unholy brute as
+Lablache. He wishes to marry _you--he means to marry you_."
+
+The silver-haired old lady had worked herself up to an unusual
+vehemence. She paused after accentuating her last words. Jacky, taking
+advantage of the break, dropped in a question.
+
+"But--how does this affect my uncle?"
+
+"Aunt" Margaret sniffed disdainfully and resettled the glasses which, in
+the agitation of the moment, had slipped from her nose.
+
+"Of course it affects your uncle," she continued more quietly. "Now
+listen and I will explain." Once more these two seated themselves and
+"Aunt" Margaret again plunged into her story.
+
+"Sometimes I catch myself speculating as to how it comes about that you
+have inspired this passion in such a man as Lablache," she began,
+glancing into the somberly beautiful face beside her. "I should have
+expected that mass of flesh and money--he always reminds me of a
+jelly-fish, my dear--ugh!--to have wished to take to himself one of your
+gaudy butterflies from New York or London for a wife; not a simple child
+of the prairie who is more than half a wild--wild savage." She smiled
+lovingly into the girl's face. "You see these coarse money-grubbers
+always prefer their pills well gilded, and, as a rule, their matrimonial
+pills need a lot of gilding to bring them up to the standard of what
+they think a wife should be. However, it was not long before it became
+plain to me that he wished to marry you. He may be a master of finance;
+he may disguise his feelings--if he has any--in business, so that the
+shrewdest observer can discover no vulnerable point in his armor of
+dissimulation. But when it comes to matters pertaining
+to--to--love--quite the wrong word in his case, my dear--these men are
+as babes; worse, they are fools. When Lablache makes up his mind to a
+purpose he generally accomplishes his end--"
+
+"In business," suggested Jacky, moodily.
+
+"Just so--in business, my dear. In matters matrimonial it may be
+different. But I doubt his failure in that," went on Mrs. Abbot, with a
+decided snap of her expressive mouth. "He will try by fair means or
+foul, and, if I know anything of him, he will never relinquish his
+purpose. He asked you to marry him--and of course you refused, quite
+natural and right. He will not risk another refusal from you--these
+people consider themselves very sensitive, my dear--so he will attempt
+to accomplish his end by other means--means much more congenial to him,
+the--the beast. There now, I've said it, my dear. The doctor tells me
+that he is quite the most skilful player at poker that he has ever come
+across."
+
+"I guess that's so," said the girl, with a dark, ironical smile.
+
+"And that his luck is phenomenal," the old lady went on, without
+appearing to notice the interruption. "Very well. Your uncle, the old
+fool--excuse me, my dear--has done nothing but gamble all his life. The
+doctor says that he believes John has never been known to win more than
+about once in a month's play, no matter with whom he plays. You know--we
+all know--that for years he has been in the habit of raising loans from
+this monumental cuttle-fish to settle his losses. And you can trust that
+individual to see that these loans are well secured. John Allandale is
+reputed very rich, but the doctor assures me that were Lablache to
+foreclose his mortgages a very, very big slice of your uncle's worldly
+goods would be taken to meet his debts.
+
+"Now comes the last stage of the affair," she went on, with a sage
+little shake of the head. "How long ago is it since Lablache proposed to
+you? But there, you need not tell me. It was a little less than a year
+ago--wasn't it?"
+
+Her companion nodded her head. She wondered how "Aunt" Margaret had
+guessed it. She had never told a soul herself. The shrewd little old
+lady was filling her with wonder. The careful manner in which she had
+pieced facts together and argued them out with herself revealed to her
+a cleverness and observation she would never, in spite of the kindly
+soul's counsels, have given her credit for.
+
+"Yes, I knew I was right," said Mrs. Abbot, complacently. "Just about
+the time when Lablache began seriously to play poker--about the time
+when his phenomenal luck set in, to the detriment of your uncle. Yes, I
+am well posted," as the girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. "The
+doctor tells me a great deal--especially about your uncle, dear. I
+always like to know what is going on. And now to bring my long
+explanation to an end. Don't you see how Lablache intends to marry you?
+Your uncle's losses this winter have been so terribly heavy--and all to
+Lablache. Lablache holds the whip hand of him. A request from Lablache
+becomes a command--or the crash."
+
+"But how about the Doc," asked Jacky, quickly. "He plays with
+them--mostly?"
+
+Mrs. Abbot shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"The doctor can take care of himself. He's cautious, and
+besides--Lablache has no wish to win his money."
+
+"But surely he must lose? Say, auntie, dear, it's not possible to play
+against Lablache's luck without losing--some."
+
+"Well, dear, I can't say I know much of the game," with some perplexity,
+"but the doctor assures me that Lablache never hits him hard. Often and
+often when the 'pot' rests between them Lablache will throw down his
+hand--which goes to show that he does not want to take his money."
+
+"An' I reckon goes to show that he's bucking dead against Uncle John,
+only. Yes, I see."
+
+The little gray head again bent over the darning, which had lain almost
+untouched in her lap during her long recital. Now she resolutely drew
+the darning yarn through the soft wool of the sock and re-inserted the
+needle. The girl beside her bent an eager face before her, and, resting
+her chin upon her hands, propped her elbows on her knees.
+
+"Yes, auntie, I know," Jacky went on thoughtfully. "Lablache means to
+put this marriage with me right through. I see it all. But say,"
+bringing one of her brown hands down forcibly upon that of her
+companion, which was concealed in the foot of the woolen sock, and
+gripping it with nervous strength, "I guess he's reckoned without his
+bride. I'm not going to marry Lablache, auntie, dear, and you can bet
+your bottom dollar I'm not going to let him ruin uncle. All I want to do
+is to stop uncle drinking. That is what scares me most."
+
+"My child, Lablache is the cause of that. The same as he is the cause of
+all troubles in Foss River. Your uncle realizes the consequences of the
+terrible losses he has incurred. He knows, only too well, that he is
+utterly in the money-lender's power. He knows he must go on playing,
+vainly endeavoring to recover himself, and with each fresh loss he
+drinks deeper to smother his fears and conscience. It is the result of
+the weakness of his nature--a weakness which I have always known would
+sooner or later lead to his undoing. Jacky, girl, I fear you will one
+day have to marry Lablache or your uncle's ruin will be certainly
+accomplished."
+
+Mrs. Abbot's face was very serious now. She pitied from the bottom of
+her heart this motherless girl who had come to her, in spite of her
+courage and almost mannish independence, for that sympathy and advice
+which, at certain moments, the strongest woman cannot do without. She
+knew that all she had said was right, and even if her story could do no
+material good it would at least have the effect of putting the girl on
+her guard. In spite of her shrewdness Mrs. Abbot could never quite
+fathom her _protégée_. And even now, as she gazed into the girl's face,
+she was wondering how--in what manner--the narration of her own
+observations would influence the other's future actions. The thick blood
+of the half-breed slowly rose into Jacky's face, until the dark skin was
+suffused with a heavy, passionate flush. Slowly, too, the somber eyes
+lit--glowed--until the dazzling fire of anger shone in their depths.
+Then she spoke; not passionately, but with a hard, cruel delivery which
+sent a shiver thrilling through her companion's body and left her
+shuddering.
+
+"'Aunt' Margaret, I swear by all that's holy that I'll never marry that
+scum. Say, I'd rather follow a round-up camp and share a greaser's
+blankets than wear all the diamonds Lablache could buy. An' as for
+uncle; say, the day that sees him ruined'll see Lablache's filthy brains
+spoiling God's pure air."
+
+"Child, child," replied the old lady, in alarm, "don't take oaths, the
+rashness--the folly of which you cannot comprehend. For goodness' sake
+don't entertain such wicked thoughts. Lablache is a villain, but--"
+
+She broke off and turned towards the door, which, at that moment, opened
+to admit the genial doctor.
+
+"Ah," she went on, with a sudden change of manner back to that of her
+usual cheerful self, "I thought you men were going to make a night of
+it. Jacky came to share my solitude."
+
+"Good evening, Jacky," said the doctor. "Yes, we were going to make a
+night of it, Margaret. Your summons broke up the party, and for John's
+sake--" He checked himself, and glanced curiously at the recurrent form
+of the girl, who was now lounging back in her chair gazing into the
+stove. "What did you want me for?"
+
+Jacky rose abruptly from her seat and picked up her hat.
+
+"'Aunt' Margaret didn't really want you, Doc. It was I who asked her to
+send for you. I want to see uncle."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The doctor permitted himself the ejaculation.
+
+"Good-night, you two dear people," the girl went on, with a forced
+attempt at cheerfulness. "I guess uncle'll be home by now, so I'll be
+off."
+
+"Yes, he left the saloon with me," said Doctor Abbot, shaking hands and
+walking towards the door. "You'll just about catch him."
+
+The girl kissed the old lady and passed out. The doctor stood for a
+moment on his doorstep gazing after her.
+
+"Poor child--poor child!" he murmured. "Yes, she'll find him--I saw him
+home myself," And he broke off with an expressive shrug.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE CAMPAIGN OPENS
+
+
+The summit of a hill, however insignificant its altitude, is always an
+inspiring vantage point from which to survey the surrounding world.
+There is a briskness of atmosphere on a hilltop which is inspiriting to
+the most jaded of faculties; there is a sparkling vitality in the breath
+of the morning air which must ever make life a joy and the world seem an
+inexpressible delight in which it is the acme of happiness to dwell.
+
+The exigencies of prairie life demand the habit of early rising, and
+more often does the tiny human atom, which claims for its home the vast
+tracts of natural pasture, gaze upon the sloth of the orb of day than
+does that glorious sphere smile down upon a sleeping world.
+
+Far as the eye can reach stretch the mighty wastes of waving grass--the
+undulating plains of ravishing verdure. What breadth of thought must
+thus be inspired in one who gazes out across the boundless expanse at
+the glories of a perfect sunrise? How insignificant becomes the petty
+affairs of man when gazing upon the majesty of God's handiwork. How
+utterly inconceivable becomes the association of evil with such
+transcendently beautiful creation? Surely no evil was intended to lurk
+in the shadow of so much simple splendor.
+
+And yet does the ghastly specter of crime haunt the perfect plains, the
+majestic valleys, the noiseless, inspiring pine woods, the glistening,
+snow-capped hills. And so it must remain as long as the battle of life
+continues undecided--so long as the struggle for existence endures.
+
+The Hon. Bunning-Ford rose while yet the daylight was struggling to
+overcome the shades of night. He stood upon the tiny veranda which
+fronted his minute house, smoking his early morning cigarette. He was
+waiting for his coffee--that stimulating beverage which few who have
+lived in the wilds of the West can do without--and idly luxuriating in
+the wondrous charm of scene which was spread out before him. "Lord" Bill
+was not a man of great poetic mind, but he appreciated his adopted
+country--"God's country," as he was wont to call it--as can only those
+who have lived in it. The prairie had become part of his very existence,
+and he loved to contemplate the varying lights and colors which moved
+athwart the fresh spring-clad plains as the sun rose above the eastern
+horizon.
+
+The air was chill, but withal invigorating, as he watched the steely
+blue of the daylit sky slowly give place to the rosy tint of sunrise.
+Slowly at first--then faster--great waves of golden light seemed to leap
+from the top of one green rising ground to another; the gray white of
+the snowy western mountains passed from one dead shade to another,
+until, at last, they gleamed like alabaster from afar with a diamond
+brilliancy almost painful to the eye. Thus the sun rose like some mighty
+caldron of fire mounting into the cloudless azure of a perfect sky,
+showering unctuous rays of light and heat upon the chilled life that was
+of its own creating.
+
+Bill was still lost in thought, gazing out upon the perfect scene from
+the vantage point of the hill upon which his "shack" stood, when round
+the corner of the house came a half-breed, bearing a large tin pannikin
+of steaming coffee. He took the pannikin from the man and propped
+himself against a post which helped to support the roof of the veranda.
+
+"Are the boys out yet?" he asked the waiting Breed, and nodding towards
+the corrals, which reposed at the foot of the hill and were overlooked
+by the house.
+
+"I guess," the fellow replied laconically. Then, as an afterthought,
+"They're getting breakfast, anyhow."
+
+"Say, when they've finished their grub you can tell 'em to turn to and
+lime out the sheds. I'm going in to the settlement to-day. If I'm not
+back to-night let them go right on with the job to-morrow."
+
+The man signified his understanding of the instructions with a grunt.
+This cook of "Lord" Bill's was not a man of words. His vocation had
+induced an irascibility of temper which took the form of silence. His
+was an incipient misanthropy.
+
+Bill returned the empty pannikin and strolled down towards the corrals
+and sheds. The great barn lay well away from where the cattle
+congregated. This ranch was very different from that of the Allandales
+of Foss River. It was some miles away from the settlement. Its
+surroundings were far more open. Timber backed the house, it is true,
+but in front was the broad expanse of the open plains. It was an
+excellent position, and, governed by a thrifty hand, would undoubtedly
+have thrived and ultimately vied with the more elaborate establishment
+over which Jacky held sway. As it was, however, Bill cared little for
+prosperity and money-making, and though he did not neglect his property
+he did not attempt to extend its present limits.
+
+The milch cows were slowly mouching from the corrals as he neared the
+sheds. A diminutive herder was urging them along with shrill, piping
+shrieks--vicious but ineffective. Far more to the purpose were the
+efforts to a well-trained, bob-tailed sheep dog who was awaking echoes
+on the brisk morning air with the full-toned note of his bark.
+
+"Lord" Bill found one or two hands quietly enjoying their
+after-breakfast smoke, but the majority had not as yet left the kitchen.
+Outside the barn two men were busily soft-soaping their saddles and
+bridles, whilst a third, seated on an upturned box, was wiping out his
+revolver with a coal-oil rag. Bill passed them by with a nod and
+greeting, and went into the stable. The horses were feeding, but as yet
+the stalls had not been cleaned out. He returned and gave some
+instructions to one of the men. Then he walked slowly back to the house.
+Usually he would have stayed down there to see the work of the day
+carried out; now, however, he was preoccupied. On this particular
+morning he took but little interest in the place; he knew only too well
+how soon it must pass from his possession.
+
+Half-way up the hill he paused and turned his sleepy eyes towards the
+south. At a considerable distance a vehicle was approaching at a
+spanking pace. It was a buckboard, one of those sturdy conveyances built
+especially for light prairie transport. As yet it was not sufficiently
+near for him to distinguish its occupant, but the speed and cut of the
+horses seemed familiar to him. He continued on towards the house, and
+seated himself leisurely on the veranda, and, rolling himself another
+cigarette, calmly watched the on-coming conveyance.
+
+It was the habit of this man never to be prodigal in the display of
+energy. He usually sat when there was no need for standing; he always
+considered speech to be golden, but silence, to his way of thinking, was
+priceless. And like most men of such opinion he cultivated thought and
+observation.
+
+He propped his back against the veranda post, and, taking a deep
+inhalation from his cigarette, gazed long and earnestly, with
+half-closed eyes, down the winding southern trail.
+
+His curiosity, if such a feeling might have been attributed to him, was
+soon set at rest, for, as the horses raced up the hill towards him, he
+had no difficulty in recognizing the bulky proportions of his visitor.
+Seeing the driver of the buckboard making for the house, two of the
+"hands" had hastened up the hill to take the horses. Lablache, for it
+was the fleshy money-lender, slid, as agilely as his great bulk would
+permit him, from the vehicle, and the two men took charge of the horses.
+Bill was not altogether cordial. It was not his way to be so to anybody
+but his friends.
+
+"How are you?" he said with a nod, but without rising from his recumbent
+attitude. "Goin' to stay long?"
+
+His latter question sounded churlish, but Lablache understood his
+meaning. It was of the horses the rancher was thinking.
+
+"An hour, maybe," replied Lablache, breathing heavily as a result of his
+climb out of the buckboard.
+
+"Right Take 'em away, boys. Remove the harness and give 'em a good rub
+down. Don't water or feed 'em till they're cool. They're spanking
+'plugs,' Lablache," he added, as he watched the horses being led down to
+the barn. "Come inside. Had breakfast?" rising and knocking the dust
+from the seat of his moleskin trousers.
+
+"Yes, I had breakfast before daylight, thanks," Lablache said, glancing
+quickly down at the empty corrals, where his horses were about to
+undergo a rubbing down. "I came out to have a business chat with you.
+Shall we go in-doors?"
+
+"Most certainly."
+
+There was an expressive curtness in the two words. Bill permitted
+himself a brief survey of the great man's back as the latter turned
+towards the front door. And although his half-closed lids hid the
+expression of his eyes, the pursing of the lips and the fluctuating
+muscles of his jaw spoke of unpleasant thoughts passing through his
+mind. A business talk with Lablache, under the circumstances, could not
+afford the rancher much pleasure. He followed the money-lender into the
+sitting-room.
+
+The apartment was very bare, mannish, and scarcely the acme of neatness.
+A desk, a deck chair, a bench and a couple of old-fashioned windsor
+chairs; a small table, on which breakfast things were set, an old
+saddle, a rack of guns and rifles, a few trophies of the chase in the
+shape of skins and antelope heads comprised the furniture and
+decorations of the room. And too, in that slightly uncouth collection,
+something of the character of the proprietor was revealed.
+
+Bunning-Ford was essentially careless of comfort. And surely he was
+nothing if not a keen and ardent sportsman.
+
+"Sit down." Bill indicated the chairs with a wave of the arm. Lablache
+dubiously eyed the deck chair, then selected one of the unyielding
+Windsor chairs as more safe for the burden of his precious body, tested
+it, and sat down, emitting a gasp of breath like an escape of steam from
+a safety-valve. The younger man propped himself on the corner of his
+desk.
+
+Lablache looked furtively into his companion's face. Then he turned his
+eyes in the direction of the window. Bill said nothing, his face was
+calm. He intended the money-lender to speak first. The latter seemed
+indisposed to do so. His lashless eyes gazed steadily out at the prairie
+beyond. "Lord" Bill's persistent silence at length forced the other into
+speech. His words came slowly and were frequently punctuated with deep
+breaths.
+
+"Your ranch--everything you possess is held on first mortgage."
+
+"Not all." Bunning-Ford's answer came swiftly. The abruptness of the
+other's announcement nettled him. The tone of the words conveyed a
+challenge which the younger man was not slow to accept.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders with deliberation until his fleshy jowl
+creased against the woolen folds of his shirt front.
+
+"It comes to the same thing," he said; "what I--what is not mortgaged is
+held in bonds. The balance, practically all of it, you owe under
+signature to Pedro Mancha. It is because of that--latest--debt I am
+here."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Bill rolled a fresh cigarette and lit it. He guessed something of what
+was coming--but not all.
+
+"Mancha will force you to meet your liabilities to him. Your interest is
+shortly due to the Calford Loan Co. You cannot meet both."
+
+Lablache gazed unblinkingly into the other's face. He was thoroughly
+enjoying himself.
+
+Bill was staring pensively at his cigarette. One leg swung pendulum
+fashion beside the desk. His indebtedness troubled him not a jot. He was
+trying to fathom the object of this prelude. Lablache, he knew, had not
+come purposely to make these plain statements. He blew a cloud of smoke
+down his nostrils with much appreciation. Then he heaved a sigh as
+though his troubles were too great for him to bear.
+
+"Right--dead right, first time."
+
+The lazy eyes appeared to be staring into space. In reality they were
+watching the doughy countenance before him. "What do you propose to do?"
+Lablache asked, ignoring the other's flippant tone.
+
+Bill shrugged.
+
+"Debts of honor must be met first," he said quietly. "Mancha must be
+paid in full. I shall take care of that. For the rest, I have no doubt
+your business knowledge will prompt you as to what course the Calford
+Loan Co. and yourself had best adopt."
+
+Lablache was slightly taken aback at the cool indifference of this man.
+He scarcely knew how to deal with him. He had driven out this morning
+intending to coerce, or, at least, strike a hard bargain. But the object
+of his attentions was, to say the least of it, difficult.
+
+He moved uneasily and crossed his legs.
+
+"There is only one course open to your creditors. It is a harsh method
+and one which goes devilishly against the grain. But--"
+
+"Pray don't apologize, Mr. Lablache," broke in the other, smiling
+sardonically. "I am fully aware of the tender condition of your
+feelings. I only trust that in this matter you will carry out
+your--er--painful duty without worrying me with the detail of the
+necessary routine. I shall settle Mancha's debt at once and then you are
+welcome to the confounded lot."
+
+Bill moved from his position and walked towards the door. The
+significance of his action was well marked. Lablache, however, had no
+intention of going yet. He moved heavily round upon his chair so as to
+face his man.
+
+"One moment--er--Ford. You are a trifle precipitate. I was going on to
+say, when you interrupted me, that if you cared to meet me half-way I
+have a proposition to make which might solve your difficulty. It is an
+unusual one, I admit, but," with a meaning smile, "I rather fancy that
+the Calford Loan Co. might be induced to see the advantage, _to them_,
+of delaying action."
+
+The object of this early morning visit was about to be made apparent.
+Bill returned to his position at the desk and lit another cigarette. The
+suave manner of his unwelcome guest was dangerous. He was prepared.
+There was something almost feline in the attitude and the expression of
+the young rancher as he waited for the money-lender to proceed. Perhaps
+Lablache understood him. Perhaps his understanding warned him to adopt
+his best manner. His usual method in dealing with his victims was hardly
+the same as he was now using.
+
+"Well, what is this 'unusual' course?" asked Bill, in no very tolerant
+tone. He wished it made quite plain that he cared nothing about the
+"selling up" process to which he knew he must be subjected. Lablache
+noted the haughty manner and resented it, but still he gave no outward
+sign. He had a definite object to attain and he would not allow his
+anger to interfere with his chances of success.
+
+"Merely a pleasant little business arrangement which should meet all
+parties' requirements," he said easily. "At present you are paying a ten
+per cent, interest on a principal of thirty-five thousand dollars to the
+Calford Loan Co. A debt of twenty thousand to me includes an amount of
+interest which represents ten per cent, interest for ten years. Very
+well, Your ranch should be yielding a greater profit than it is. With
+your permission the Calford Trust Co. shall put in a competent manager,
+whose salary shall be paid out of the profits. The balance of said
+profits shall be handed Over to your creditors, less an annual income to
+you of fifteen hundred dollars. Thus the principal of your debts, at a
+careful computation, should be liquidated in seven years. In
+consideration of thus shortening the period of the loans by three years
+the Calford Trust Co. shall allow you a rebate of five per cent,
+interest. Failing the profits in seven years amounting to the sums of
+money required, the Calford Trust Co. and myself will forego the balance
+due to us. Let me plainly assure you that this is no philanthropic
+scheme but the result of practical calculation. The advantage to you is
+obvious. An assured income during that period, and your ranch well and
+ably managed and improved. Your property at the end of seven years will
+return to you a vastly more valuable possession than it is at present.
+And we, on our part, will recover our money and interest without the
+unpleasant reflection that, in doing so, we have beggared you."
+
+Lablache, usurer, scoundrel, smiled benignly at his companion as he
+pronounced his concluding words. The Hon. Bunning-Ford looked, thought,
+and looked again. He began to think that Lablache was meditating a more
+rascally proceeding than he had given him credit for. His words were so
+specious. His pie was so delicately crusted with such a tempting
+exterior. What was the object of this magnanimous offer? He felt he must
+know more.
+
+"It sounds awfully well, but surely that is not all. What, in return, is
+demanded of me?"
+
+Lablache had carefully watched the effect of his words. He was wondering
+whether the man he was dealing with was clever beyond the average, or a
+fool. He was still balancing the point in his mind when Bill put the
+question.
+
+Lablache looked away, produced a snuff-box and drew up a large pinch of
+snuff before answering. He blew his nose with trumpet-like vehemence on
+a great red bandana.
+
+"The only return asked of you is that you vacate the country for the
+next two years," he said heavily. And in that rejoinder "Lord" Bill
+understood the man's guile.
+
+It was a sudden awakening, but it came to him as no sort of surprise. He
+had long suspected, although he had never given serious credence to his
+suspicions, the object the money-lender had in inveigling both himself
+and "Poker" John into their present difficulties. Now he understood, and
+a burning desire swept over him to shoot the man down where he sat. Then
+a revulsion of feeling came to him and he saw the ludicrous side of the
+situation. He gazed at Lablache, that obese mountain of blubber, and
+tried to think of the beautiful, wild Jacky as the money-lender's wife.
+The thing seemed so preposterous that he burst out into a mocking laugh.
+
+Lablache, whose fishy eyes had never left the rancher's face, heard the
+tone and slowly flushed with anger. For an instant he seemed about to
+rise, then instead he leant forward.
+
+"Well?" he asked, breathing his monosyllabic inquiry hissing upon the
+air.
+
+Bill emitted a thin cloud of smoke into the money-lender's face. His
+eyes had suddenly become wide open and blazing with anger. He pointed to
+the door.
+
+"I'll see you damned first! Now--git!"
+
+At the door Lablache turned. In his face was written all the fury of
+hell.
+
+"Mancha's debt is transferred to me. You will settle it without delay."
+
+He had scarcely uttered the last word when there was a loud report, and
+simultaneously the crash of a bullet in the casing of the door. Lablache
+accepted his dismissal with precipitation and hastened to where his
+horses were stationed, to the accompaniment of "Lord" Bill's mocking
+laugh. He had no wish to test the rancher's marksmanship further.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT
+
+
+A month--just one month and the early spring has developed with almost
+tropical suddenness into a golden summer. The rapid passing of seasons,
+the abrupt break, the lightning change from one into another, is one of
+the many beauties of the climate of that fair land where there are no
+half measures in Nature's mode of dealing out from her varied store of
+moods. Spring chases Winter, hoary, bitter, cruel Winter, in the hours
+of one night; and in turn Spring's delicate influence is overpowered
+with equal celerity by the more matured and unctuous ripeness of Summer.
+
+Foss River had now become a glorious picture of vivid coloring. The
+clumps of pine woods no longer present their tattered purplish
+appearance, the garb in which grim Winter is wont to robe them. They are
+lighter, gayer, and bathed in the gleaming sunlight they are transformed
+from their somber forbidding aspect to that of radiant, welcome shade.
+The river is high, almost to flooding point. And the melting snow on the
+distant mountain-tops has urged it into a sparkling torrent of icy cold
+water rushing on at a pace which threatens to tear out its deterring
+banks and shallow bed in its mad career.
+
+The most magical change which the first month of summer has brought is
+to be seen in the stock. Cattle, when first brought in from distant
+parts at the outset of the round-up, usually are thin, mean-looking, and
+half-starved. Two weeks of the delicious spring grass and the fat on
+their ribs and loins rolls and shakes as they move, growing almost
+visibly under the succulent influence of the delicate vegetation.
+
+Few at Foss River appreciated the blessings of summer more fully than
+did Jacky Allandale, and few worked harder than did she. Almost
+single-handed she grappled with the stupendous task of the management of
+the great ranch, and no "hand," however experienced, was more capable in
+the most arduous tasks which that management involved. From the skillful
+organization down to the roping and branding of a wild two-year-old
+steer there was no one who understood the business of stock-raising
+better than she. She loved it--it was the very essence of life to her.
+
+Silas, her uncle's foreman, was in the habit of summing her up in his
+brief but expressive way.
+
+"Missie Jacky?" he would exclaim, in tones of surprise, to any one who
+dared to express wonder at her masterly management. "Guess a cyclone
+does its biz mighty thorough, but I take it ef that gal 'ud been born a
+hurricane she'd 'ave dislodged mountains an' played baseball with the
+glaciers."
+
+But this year things were different with the mistress of the Foss River
+Ranch. True she went about her work with that thorough appreciation
+which she always displayed, but the young face had last something of its
+happy girlish delight--that _débonnaire_ cheerfulness which usually
+characterized it. A shadow seemed to be hanging over her--a shadow,
+which, although it marred in no way her fresh young beauty, added a
+deepened pensiveness to her great somber eyes, and seemed to broaden the
+fringing black ring round the gray pupils. This year the girl had more
+to grapple with than the mere management of the ranch.
+
+Her uncle needed all her care. And, too, the consciousness that the
+result of all her work was insufficient to pay the exorbitant interest
+on mortgages which had been forced upon her uncle by the hated,
+designing Lablache took something of the zest from her labors. Then,
+besides this, there were thoughts of the compact sealed between her
+lover and herself in Bad Man's Hollow, and the knowledge of the
+intentions of the money-lender towards "Lord" Bill, all helped to render
+her distrait. She knew all about the scene which had taken place at
+Bill's ranch, and she knew that, for her lover at least, the crash had
+come. During that first month of the open season the girl had been
+sorely tried. There was no one but "Aunt" Margaret to whom she could go
+for comfort or sympathy, and even she, with her wise councils and
+far-seeing judgment, could not share in the secrets which weighed so
+heavily upon the girl.
+
+Jacky had not experienced, as might have been expected, very great
+difficulty in keeping her uncle fast to the grind-stone of duty.
+Whatever his faults and weaknesses, John Allandale was first of all a
+rancher, and when once the winter breaks every rancher must work--ay,
+work like no negro slave ever worked. It was only in the evenings, when
+bodily fatigue had weakened the purpose of ranching habit, and when the
+girl, wearied with her day's work, relaxed her vigilance, that the old
+man craved for the object of his passion and its degrading
+accompaniment. Then he would nibble at the whisky bottle, having "earned
+his tonic," as he would say, until the potent spirit had warmed his
+courage and he would hurry off to the saloon for "half an hour's
+flutter," which generally terminated in the small hours of the morning.
+
+Such was the state of affairs at the Foss River Ranch when Lablache put
+into execution his threats against the Hon. Bunning-Ford. The settlement
+had returned to its customary torpid serenity. The round-up was over,
+and all the "hands" had returned to the various ranches to which they
+belonged. The little place had entered upon its period of placid sleep,
+which would last until the advent of the farmers to spend the proceeds
+of their garnered harvest. But this would be much later in the year, and
+in the meantime Foss River would sleep.
+
+The night before the sale of "Lord" Bill's ranch, he and Jacky went for
+a ride. They had thus ridden out on many evenings of late. Old John was
+too absorbed in his own affairs to bother himself at these evening
+journeyings, although, in his careless way, he noticed how frequent a
+visitor at the ranch Bill had lately become. Still, he made no
+objection. If his niece saw fit to encourage these visits he would not
+interfere. In his eyes the girl could do no wrong. It was his one
+redeeming feature, his love for the motherless girl, and although his
+way of showing it was more than open to criticism, it was true he loved
+her with a deep, strong affection.
+
+Foss River was far too sleepy to bother about these comings and goings.
+Lablache, alone, of the sleepy hamlet, eyed the evening journeys with
+suspicion. But even he was unable to fathom their object, and was forced
+to set them down, his whole being consumed with jealousy the while, to
+lovers' wanderings. However, these nightly rides were taken with
+purpose. After galloping across the prairie in various directions they
+always, as darkness crept on, terminated at a certain spot--the clump of
+willows and reeds at which the secret path across the great keg began.
+
+The sun was well down below the distant mountain peaks when Jacky and
+her lover reached the scrubby bush of willows and reeds upon the evening
+before the day of the sale of Bill's ranch. As they drew up their
+panting horses, and dismounted, the evening twilight was deepening over
+the vast expanse of the mire.
+
+The girl stood at the brink of the bottomless caldron of viscid muck and
+gazed out across the deadly plain. Bill stood still beside her, watching
+her face with eager, hungry eyes.
+
+"Well?" he said at last, as his impatience forced itself to his lips.
+
+"Yes, Bill," the girl answered slowly, as one balancing her decision
+well before giving judgment, "the path has widened. The rain has kept
+off long enough, and the sun has done his best for us. It is a good
+omen. Follow me."
+
+She linked her arm through the reins of her horse's bridle, and leading
+the faithful animal, stepped fearlessly out on to the muskeg. As she
+trod the rotten crust she took a zigzag direction from one side of the
+secret path to the other. That which, in early spring, had scarcely been
+six feet in width, would now have borne ten horsemen abreast. Presently
+she turned back. "We need go no further, Bill; what is safe here
+continues safe across the keg. It will widen in places, but in no place
+will the path grow narrower."
+
+"But tell me," said the man, anxious to assure himself that no detail
+was forgotten, "what about the trail of our footprints?"
+
+The girl laughed. Then indenting the ground with her shapely boot until
+the moisture below oozed into the imprint, she looked up into the lazy
+face before her.
+
+"See--we wait for one minute, and you shall see the result."
+
+They waited in silence in the growing darkness. The night insects and
+mosquitoes buzzed around them. The man's attention was riveted upon the
+impression made by the girl's foot. Slowly the water filled the print,
+then slowly, under the moist influence, the ground, sponge-like, rose
+again, the water disappeared, and all sign of the footmark was gone.
+
+When again the ground had resumed its natural appearance the girl looked
+up.
+
+"Are you satisfied, Bill? No man or beast who passes over this path
+leaves a trail which lasts longer than a minute. Even the rank grass,
+however badly trodden down, rears itself again with amazing vitality. I
+guess this place was created through the devil's agency and for the
+purpose of devil's work."
+
+Bill gave one sweeping glance around. Then he turned, and the two made
+their way back to the edge of the sucking mire.
+
+"Yes, it'll do, dear. Now let us hasten home."
+
+They remounted their horses and were soon lost in the gathering darkness
+as they made their way over the brow of the rising ground, in the
+direction of the settlement.
+
+The next day saw the possession of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's ranch pass
+into other hands. Punctually at noon, the sale began. And by four
+o'clock the process, which robbed the rancher of everything that he
+possessed in the world, was completed.
+
+Bill stationed himself on the veranda and smoked incessantly while the
+sale proceeded. He was there to see how the things went, and, in fact,
+seemed to take an outsider's interest only. He experienced no morbid
+sentiment at the loss of his property--it is doubtful if he cared at
+all. Anyhow, his leisurely attitude and his appearance of good-natured
+indifference caused many surprised remarks amongst the motley collection
+of bidders who were present. In spite of these appearances, however, he
+did take a very keen interest. A representative of Lablache's was there
+to purchase stock, and Bill knew it, and his interest was centered on
+this would-be purchaser.
+
+The stock was the last thing to come under the hammer. There were twenty
+lots. Of these Lablache's representative purchased
+fifteen--three-quarters of the stock of the entire ranch.
+
+Bill waited only for this, then, as the sale closed, he leisurely rolled
+and lit another cigarette and strolled to where a horse, which he had
+borrowed from the Allandales stable, was tied, and rode slowly away.
+
+As he rode away he turned his head in the direction of the house upon
+the hill. He was leaving for good and all the place which had so long
+claimed him as master. He saw the small gathering of people still
+hanging about the veranda, upon which the auctioneer still stood with
+his clerk, busy over the sales. He noticed others passing hither and
+thither, as they prepared to depart with their purchases. But none of
+these things which he looked upon affected him in any mawkish,
+sentimental manner. It was all over. That little hill, with its wooded
+background and vast frontage of prairie, from which he had loved to
+watch the sun get up after its nightly sojourn, would know him no more.
+His indifference was unassumed. His was not the nature to regret past
+follies.
+
+He smiled softly as he turned his attention to the future which lay
+before him, and his smile was not in keeping with the expression of a
+broken man.
+
+In these last days of waning prosperity Bunning-Ford had noticeably
+changed. With loss of property he had lost much of that curious veneer
+of indolence, utter disregard of consequences, which had always been
+his. Not, that he had suddenly developed a violent activity or
+boisterous enthusiasm. Simply his interest in things and persons seemed
+to have received a fillip. There seemed to be an air of latent activity
+about him; a setness of purpose which must have been patent to any one
+sufficiently interested to observe the young rancher closely. But Foss
+River was too sleepy--indifferent--to worry itself about anybody, except
+those in its ranks who were riding the high horse of success. Those who
+fell out by the wayside were far too numerous to have more than a
+passing thought devoted to them. So this subtle change in the man was
+allowed to pass without comment by any except, perhaps, the
+money-lender, Lablache, and the shrewd, kindly wife of the
+doctor--people not much given to gossip.
+
+It was only since the discovery of Lablache's perfidy that "Lord" Bill
+had understood what living meant. His discovery in Smith's saloon had
+roused in him a very human manhood. Since that time he had been seized
+with a mental activity, a craving for action he had never, in all his
+lazy life, before experienced. This sudden change had been aggravated by
+Lablache's subsequent conduct, and the flame had been fanned by the
+right that Jacky had given him to protect her. The sensation was one of
+absorbing excitement, and the loss of property sat lightly upon him in
+consequence. Money he had not--property he had not. But he had now what
+he had never possessed before--he had an object.
+
+A lasting, implacable vengeance was his, from the contemplation of which
+he drew a satisfaction which no possession of property could have given
+him. Nature had, with incorrigible perversity, cut him out for a life of
+ease, whilst endowing him with a character capable of very great things.
+Now, in her waywardness she had aroused that character and overthrown
+the hindering superficialty in which she had clothed it. And further to
+mark her freakish mood, these same capabilities which might easily,
+under other circumstances, have led him into the fore-front of life's
+battle, she directed, with inexorable cruelty, into an adverse course.
+He had been cheated, robbed, and his soul thirsted for revenge. Lablache
+had robbed the uncle of the girl he loved, and, worse than all, the
+wretch had tried to oust him from the affections of the girl herself.
+Yes, he thirsted for revenge as might any traveler in a desert crave for
+water. His eyes, no longer sleepy, gleamed as he thought. His long,
+square jaws seemed welded into one as he thought of his wrongs. His was
+the vengeance which, if necessary, would last his lifetime. At least,
+whilst Lablache lived no quarter would he give or accept.
+
+Something of this he was thinking as he took his farewell of the ranch
+on the hill, and struck out in the direction of the half-breed camp
+situated in a hollow some distance outside the settlement of Foss
+River.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE FIRST CHECK
+
+
+The afterglow of sunset slowly faded out of the western sky. And the
+hush of the night was over all. The feeling of an awful solitude, which
+comes to those whose business is to pass the night on the open prairie,
+is enhanced rather than reduced by the buzz of insect life upon the
+night air. The steady hum of the mosquito--the night song of the
+grasshoppers and frogs--the ticking, spasmodic call of the invisible
+beetles--all these things help to intensify the loneliness and magnitude
+of the wild surroundings. Nor does the smoldering camp-fire lessen the
+loneliness. Its very light deepens the surrounding dark, and its only
+use, after the evening meal is cooked, is merely to dispel the savage
+attack of the voracious mosquito and put the fear of man into the hearts
+of the prairie scavenger, the coyote, whose dismal howl awakens the
+echoes of the night at painfully certain intervals, and often drives
+sleep from the eyes of the weary traveler.
+
+It is rare that the "cow-hand" pitches his camp amongst hills, or in the
+neighborhood of any bushy growth. The former he shuns from a natural
+dislike for a limited view. The latter, especially if the bush takes the
+form of pine woods, is bad for many reasons, chief amongst which is the
+fact of its being the harborage of the savage, gigantic timber wolf--a
+creature as naturally truculent as the far-famed grizzly, the denizen of
+the towering Rockies.
+
+Upon a high level of the prairie, out towards the upper reaches of the
+Rainy River, a tributary of the broad, swift-flowing Foss River, and
+some fifteen miles from the settlement, two men were lounging, curled
+leisurely round the smoldering remains of a camp fire. Some distance
+away the occasional lowing of a cow betrayed the presence of a band of
+cattle.
+
+The men were wide awake and smoking. Whether they refrained from sleep
+through necessity or inclination matters little. Probably the hungry
+attacks of the newly-hatched mosquito were responsible for their
+wakefulness. Each man was wrapped in a single brown blanket, and folded
+saddle-cloth answered as a pillow, and it was noticeable that they were
+stretched out well to leeward of the fire, so that the smoke passed
+across them, driving away a few of the less audacious "skitters."
+
+"We'll get 'em in by dinner to-morrow," said one of the sleepless men
+thoughtfully. His remark was more in the tone of soliloquy than
+addressed to the other. Then louder, and in a manner which implied
+resentment, "Them all-fired skitters is givin' me a twistin'."
+
+"Smoke up, pard," came a muffled rejoinder from the region of the other
+blanket "Maybe your hide's a bit tender yet. I 'lows skitters 'most
+allus goes fur young 'uns. Guess I'm all right."
+
+"Dessay you are," replied the first speaker, sharply. "I ain't been long
+in the country--leastways, not on the prairie, an' like as not I ain't
+dropped into the ways o' things. I've allus heerd as washin' is mighty
+bad when skitters is around. They doesn't worry you any."
+
+He pulled heavily at his pipe until his face was enveloped in a fog of
+smoke. His companion's tone of patronage had nettled him. The old hand
+moved restlessly but did not answer. It is doubtful if the other's
+sarcasm had been observed. It was scarcely broad enough to penetrate the
+toughened hide of the older hand's susceptibilities.
+
+The silence was broken by a man's voice in the distance. The sound of an
+old familiar melody, chanted in a manly and not unmusical voice, reached
+the fireside. It was the voice of the man who was on watch round the
+band of cattle, and he was endeavoring to lull them into quiescence.
+The human voice, in the stillness of the night, has a somnolent effect
+upon cattle, and even mosquitoes, unless they are very thick, fail to
+counteract the effect. The older hand stirred. Then he sat up and
+methodically replenished the fire, kicking the dying embers together
+until they blazed afresh.
+
+"Jim Bowley do sing mighty sweet," he said, in disparaging tones. "Like
+a crazy buzz-saw, I guess. S'pose them beasties is gettin' kind o'
+restless. Say, Nat, how goes the time? It must be night on ter your
+spell."
+
+Nat sat up and drew out a great silver watch.
+
+"Haf an hour yet, pard." Then he proceeded to re-fill his pipe, cutting
+great flakes of black tobacco from a large plug with his sheath knife.
+Suddenly he paused in the operation and listened. "Say, Jake, what's
+that?"
+
+"What's what?" replied Jake, roughly, preparing to lie down again.
+
+"Listen!"
+
+The two men bent their keen, prairie-trained ears to windward. They
+listened intently. The night was very black--as yet the moon had not
+risen. Jake used his eyes as well as ears. On the prairie, as well as
+elsewhere, eyes have a lot to do with hearing. He sought to penetrate
+the darkness around him, but his efforts were unavailing. He could hear
+no sound but the voice of Jim Bowley and the steady plodding of his
+horse's feet as he ceaselessly circled the band of somnolent cattle. The
+sky was cloudy, and only here and there a few stars gleamed diamond-like
+in the heavens, but threw insufficient light to aid the eyes which
+sought to penetrate the surrounding gloom. The old hand threw himself
+back on his pillow in skeptical irritation.
+
+"Thar ain't nothin', young 'un," he said disdainfully. "The beasties is
+quiet, and Jim Bowley ain't no tenderfoot. Say, them skitters 'as
+rattled yer. Guess you 'eard some prowlin' coyote. They allus come
+around whar ther's a tenderfoot."
+
+Jake curled himself up again and chuckled at his own sneering
+pleasantry.
+
+"Coyote yerself, Jake Bond," retorted Nat, angrily. "Them lugs o' yours
+is gettin' old. Guess yer drums is saggin'. You're mighty smart, I don't
+think."
+
+The youngster got on to his feet and walked to where the men's two
+horses were picketed. Both horses were standing with ears cocked and
+their heads held high in the direction of the mountains. Their attitude
+was the acme of alertness. As the man came up they turned towards him
+and whinnied as if in relief at the knowledge of his presence. But
+almost instantly turned again to gaze far out into the night. Wonderful
+indeed is a horse's instinct, but even more wonderful is the keenness of
+his sight and hearing.
+
+Nat patted his broncho on the neck, and then stood beside him
+watching--listening. Was it fancy, or was it fact? The faintest sound of
+a horse galloping reached him; at least, he thought so.
+
+He returned to the fire sullenly antagonistic. He did not return to his
+blanket, but sat silently smoking and thinking. He hated the constant
+reference to his inexperience on the prairie. If even he did hear a
+horse galloping in the distance it didn't matter. But it was his ears
+that had first caught the sound in spite of his inexperience. His
+companion pigheadedly derided the fact because his own ears were not
+sufficiently keen to have detected the sound himself.
+
+Thus he sat for a few minutes gazing into the fire. Jake was now snoring
+loudly, and Nat was glad to be relieved from the tones of his sneering
+voice. Presently he rose softly from his seat, and taking his saddle
+blanket, saddled and bridled his horse. Then he mounted and silently
+rode off towards the herd. It was his relief on the cattle guard.
+
+Jim Bowley welcomed him with the genial heartiness of a man who knows
+that he has finished his vigil and that he can now lie down to rest. The
+guarding of a large herd at night is always an anxious time. Cattle are
+strange things to handle. A stampede will often involve a week's weary
+scouring of the prairie.
+
+Just as Jim Bowley was about to ride up to the camp, Nat fired a
+question which he had been some time meditating.
+
+"Guess you didn't hear a horse gallopin' jest now, pard?" he asked
+quietly.
+
+"Why cert, boy," the other answered quickly, "only a deaf mule could 'a'
+missed it. Some one passed right under the ridge thar, away to the
+southwest. Guess they wer' travelin' mighty fast too. Why?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', Jim, on'y I guess Jake Bond's that same deaf mule you
+spoke of. He's too fond of gettin' at youngsters, the old fossil. I told
+'im as I 'card suthin', an' 'e told me as I was a tenderfoot and didn't
+know wot I was gassin' about."
+
+"Jake's a cantankerous cuss, boy. Let 'im gas; 'e don't cut any figger
+anyway. Say, you keep yer eye peeled on some o' the young heifers on the
+far side o' the bunch. They're rustlin' some. They keep mouching after
+new grass. When the moon gits up you'll see better. S'long, mate."
+
+Jim rode away towards the camp fire, and young Nat proceeded to circle
+round the great herd of cattle. It was a mighty bunch for three men to
+handle. But Lablache, its owner, was never one to underwork his men.
+This was the herd which he had purchased at the sale of Bunning-Ford's
+ranch. And they were now being taken to his own ranch, some distance to
+the south of the settlement, for the purpose of re-branding with his own
+marks.
+
+As young Nat entered upon his vigil the golden arc of the rising moon
+broke the sky-line of the horizon. Already the clouds were fast
+clearing, being slowly driven before the yellow glory of the orb of
+night. Soon the prairie would be bathed in the effulgent, silvery light
+which renders the western night so delicious when the moon is at its
+full.
+
+As the cowboy circled the herd, the moon, at first directly to his left,
+slowly dropped behind until its, as yet, dull light shone full upon his
+back. The beasts were quite quiet and the sense of responsibility which
+was his, in a measure, lessened.
+
+Some distance ahead, and near by where' he must pass, a clump of
+undergrowth and a few stunted trees grew round the base of a hillock and
+broken rocks. The cattle were reposing close up by this shelter. Nat's
+horse, as he drew near to the brush, was ambling along at that peculiar
+gait, half walk, half trot, essentially the pace of a "cow-horse."
+Suddenly the animal came to a stand, for which there seemed no apparent
+reason. He stood for a second with ears cocked, sniffing at the night
+air in evident alarm. Then a prolonged, low whistle split the air. The
+sound came from the other side of the rocks, and, to the tenderfoot's
+ears, constituted a signal.
+
+The most natural thing for him to have done would have been to wait for
+further developments, if developments there were to be. However, he was
+a plucky youngster, in spite of his inexperience, and, besides,
+something of the derision of Jake Bond was still rankling in his mind.
+He knew the whistle to be the effort of some man, and his discovery of
+the individual would further prove the accuracy of his hearing, and he
+would then have the laugh of his companion. A more experienced hand
+would have first looked to his six-shooter and thought of cattle
+thieves, but, as Jake had said, he was a tenderfoot. Instead, without a
+moment's hesitation, he dashed his spurs into his broncho's flanks and
+swept round to the shadowed side of the rocks.
+
+He realized his folly when too late. The moment he entered the shade
+there came the slithering whirr of something cutting through the air.
+Something struck the horse's front legs, and the next moment he shot out
+of the saddle in response to a somersault which the broncho turned. His
+horse had been roped by one of his front legs. The cowboy lay where he
+fell, dazed and half stunned. Then he became aware of three dark faces
+bending over him. An instant later a gag was forced into his mouth, and
+he felt himself being bound hand and foot. Then the three faces silently
+disappeared, and all was quiet about him.
+
+In the meantime, on the rising ground, where the camp fire burned, all
+was calm slumber. The two old hands were taking their rest with healthy
+contentment and noisy assertion. The glory of the rising moon was lost
+to the slumberers, and no dread of coming disaster disturbed them. The
+stertorous blasts of their nostrils testified to this. The replenished
+fire slowly died down to a mass of white smoldering ashes, and the
+chill-growing air caused one of the sleepers to move restlessly in his
+sleep and draw his head down beneath his blanket for greater warmth.
+
+Up the slope came three figures. They were moving with cautious,
+stealthy step, the movement of men whose purpose is not open. On they
+came swiftly--silently. One man led; he was tall and swarthy with long
+black hair falling upon his shoulders in straight, coarse mass. He was
+evidently a half-breed, and his clothes denoted him to be of the poorer
+class--a class accustomed to live by preying upon its white neighbors.
+He was clad in a pair of moleskin trousers, which doubtless at one time
+had been white, but which now were of that nondescript hue which dirt
+conveys. His upper garments were a beaded buckskin shirt and a battered
+Stetson hat. Around his waist was a cartridge belt, on which was slung a
+holster containing a heavy six-chambered revolver and a long sheath
+knife.
+
+His companions were similarly equipped, and the three formed a wild
+picture of desperate resolve. Yard by yard they drew toward the
+sleepers, at each step listening for the loud indications of sleep which
+were made only too apparent upon the still night air. Now they were
+close upon the fire. One of the unconscious cow-boys, Jim Bowley,
+stirred. A moment passed. Then the intruders drew a step nearer.
+Suddenly Jim roused and then sat up. His action at once became a signal.
+There was a sound of swift footsteps, and the next instant the
+astonished man was gazing into the muzzle of a heavy pistol.
+
+"Hands up!" cried the voice of the leading half-breed. One of his
+followers had similarly covered the half-awakened Jake.
+
+Without a word of remonstrance two pairs of hands went up. Astonishment
+had for the moment paralyzed speech on the part of the rudely awakened
+sleepers. They were only dimly conscious of their assailants. The
+compelling rings of metal that confronted them weighed the balance of
+their judgment, and their response was the instinctive response of the
+prairie. Whoever their assailants, they had got the drop on them. The
+result was the law of necessity.
+
+In depressing silence the assailants drew their captives' weapons. Then,
+after binding their arms, the leader bade them rise. His voice was harsh
+and his accent "South-western" American. Then he ordered them to march,
+the inexorable pistol ever present to enforce obedience. In silence the
+two men were conducted to the bush where the first capture had been
+made. And here they were firmly tied to separate trees with their own
+lariats.
+
+"See hyar," said the tall half-breed, as the captives' feet were bound
+securely. "There ain't goin' to be no shootin'. You're that sensible.
+You're jest goin' to remain right hyar till daylight, or mebbe later. A
+gag'll prevent your gassin'. You're right in the track of white men, so
+I guess you'll do. See hyar, bo', jest shut it," as Jim Bowley essayed
+to speak, "cause my barker's itchin' to join in a conversation."
+
+The threat had a quieting effect upon poor Jim, who immediately closed
+his lips. Silent but watchful he eyed the half-breed's face. There was
+something very familiar about the thin cheeks, high cheek-bones, and
+about the great hooked nose. He was struggling hard to locate the man.
+At this moment the third ruffian approached with three horses. The other
+had been busy fixing a gag in Jake Bond's mouth. Jim Bowley saw the
+horses come up. And, in the now brilliant moonlight, he beheld and
+recognized a grand-looking golden chestnut. There was no mistaking that
+glorious beast. Jim was no tenderfoot; he had been on the prairie in
+this district for years. And although he had never come into actual
+contact with the man, he had seen him and knew about the exploits of the
+owner of that perfect animal.
+
+The half-breed approached him with an improvised gag. For the life of
+him Jim could not resist a temptation which at that moment assailed him.
+The threatening attitude of his captor for the instant had lost its
+effect. If he died for it he must blurt out his almost superstitious
+astonishment.
+
+The half-breed seized his prisoner's lower jaw in his hand and
+compressed the cheeks upon the teeth. Jim's lips parted, and a horrified
+amazement found vent in words.
+
+"Holy Gawd! man. But be ye flesh or sperrit? Peter Retief--as I'm a
+livin'--"
+
+He said no more, for, with a wrench, the gag was forced into his mouth
+by the relentless hand of the man before him. Although he was thus
+silenced his eyes remained wide open and staring. The dark stern face,
+as he saw it, was magnified into that of a fiend. The keen eyes and
+depressed brows, he thought, might belong to some devil re-incarnated,
+whilst the eagle-beaked nose and thin-compressed lips denoted, to his
+distorted fancy, a sanguinary cruelty. At the mention of his name this
+forbidding apparition flashed a vengeful look at the speaker, and a half
+smile of utter disdain flickered unnoticed around the corners of his
+mouth.
+
+Once his prisoners were secured the dark-visaged cattle-thief turned to
+the horses. At a word the trio mounted. Then they rode off, and the
+wretched captives beheld, to their unspeakable dismay, the consummate
+skill with which the cattle were roused and driven off. Away they went
+with reckless precipitance, the cattle obeying the master hand of the
+celebrated raider with an implicitness which seemed to indicate a
+strange sympathy between man and beast. The great golden chestnut raced
+backwards and forwards like some well-trained greyhound, heading the
+leading beasts into the desired direction without effort or apparent
+guidance. It was a grand display of the cowboy's art, and, in spite of
+his predicament and the cruel tightness of his bonds, Jim Bowley reveled
+in the sight of such a display.
+
+In five minutes the great herd was out of sight, and only the distant
+rumble of their speeding hoofs reached the captives. Later, the moon, no
+longer golden, but shedding a silvery radiance over all, shone down upon
+a peaceful plain. The night hum of insects was undisturbed. The mournful
+cry of the coyote echoed at intervals, but near by, where the camp fire
+no longer put the fear of man into the hearts of the scavengers of the
+prairie, all was still and calm. The prisoners moaned softly, but not
+loud enough to disturb the peace of the perfect night, as their cruel
+bonds gnawed at their patience. For the rest, the Western world had
+resumed its wonted air.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE HUE AND CRY
+
+
+"A thousand head of cattle, John! A thousand; and 'hustled' from under
+our very noses. By thunder! it is intolerable. Over thirty-five thousand
+dollars gone in one clean sweep. Why, I say, do we pay for the up-keep
+of the police if this sort of thing is allowed to go on? It is
+disgraceful. It means ruination to the country if a man cannot run his
+stock without fear of molestation. Who said that scoundrel Retief was
+dead--drowned in the great muskeg? It's all poppy-cock, I tell you; the
+man's as much alive as you or I. Thirty-five thousand dollars! By
+heavens!--it's--it's scandalous!"
+
+Lablache leant forward heavily in his chair and rested his great arms
+upon John Allandale's desk. "Poker" John and he were seated in the
+former's office, whither the money-lender had come, post-haste, on
+receiving the news of the daring raid of the night before. The great
+man's voice was unusually thick with rage, and his asthmatical breathing
+came in great gusts as his passionate excitement grew under the lash of
+his own words. The old rancher gazed in stupefied amazement at the
+financier. He had not as yet fully realized the fact with which he had
+just been acquainted in terms of such sweeping passion. The old man's
+brain was none too clear in the mornings now. And the suddenness of the
+announcement had shocked his faculties into a state of chaos.
+
+"Terrible--terrible," was all he was able to murmur. Then, bracing
+himself, he asked weakly, "But what are you to do?"
+
+The weather-beaten old face was working nervously. The eyes, in the
+past keen and direct in their glance, were bloodshot and troubled. He
+looked like a man who was fast breaking up. Very different from the
+night when we first met him at the Calford Polo Club ball. There could
+be no doubt as to the origin of this swift change. The whole atmosphere
+of the man spoke of drink.
+
+Lablache turned on him without any attempt to conceal the latent
+ferocity of his nature. The heavy, pouchy jowl was scarlet with his
+rage. The money-lender had been flicked upon a very raw and tender spot.
+Money was his god.
+
+"What am I to do?" he retorted savagely. "What are _we_ to do? What is
+all the ranching world of Alberta to do? Why, fight, man. Hound this
+scoundrel to his lair. Follow him--track him. Hunt him from bush to bush
+until we fall upon him and tear him limb from limb. Are we going to sit
+still while he terrorizes the whole country? While he 'hustles' every
+head of stock from us, and--and spirits it away? No, if we spend
+fortunes upon his capture we must not rest until he swings from a gibbet
+at the end of his own lariat."
+
+"Yes, of course--of course," the rancher responded, his cheek twitching
+weakly. "You are quite right, we must hunt this scoundrel down. But we
+know what has gone before--I mean, before he was supposed to have died.
+The man could never be traced. He seemed to vanish into thin air. What
+do you propose?"
+
+"Yes, but that was two years ago," said Lablache, moodily. "Things may
+be different now. A thousand head of cattle does not vanish so easily.
+There is bound to be some trace left behind. And then, the villain has
+only got a short start of us. I sent a messenger over to Stormy Cloud
+Settlement the first thing this morning. A sergeant and four men will be
+sent to work up the case. I expect them here at any moment. As justices
+of the peace it devolves on both of us to set an example to the
+settlers, and we shall then receive hearty co-operation. You understand,
+John," the money-lender went on, with pompous assertiveness, "although,
+at present, I am the chief sufferer by this scoundrel's depredations, it
+is plainly your duty as much as mine to take this matter up."
+
+The first rough storm of Lablache's passion had passed. He was "yanking"
+himself up to the proper attitude for the business in hand. Although he
+had calmed considerably his lashless eyes gleamed viciously, and his
+flabby face wore an expression which boded ill for the object of his
+rage, should that unfortunate ever come within the range of his power.
+
+"Poker" John was struggling hard to bring a once keen intellect to bear
+upon the affair. He had listened to the money-lender's account of the
+raid with an almost doubtful understanding, the chief shock to which was
+the re-appearance of the supposed dead Retief, that prince of
+"hustlers," who, two years ago, had terrorized the neighborhood by his
+impudent raids. At last his mind seemed to clear and he stood up. And,
+bending across the desk as though to emphasize his words, he showed
+something of the old spirit which had, in days gone by, made him a
+successful rancher.
+
+"I don't believe it, Lablache. This is some damned yarn to cover the
+real culprit. Why, man, Peter Retief is buried deep in that reeking keg,
+and no slapsided galoot's goin' to pitch such a crazy notion as his
+resurrection down my throat. Retief? Why, I'd as lief hear that Satan
+himself was abroad duffing cattle. Bah! Where's the 'hand' that's gulled
+you?"
+
+Lablache eyed the old man curiously. He was not sure that there might
+not be some truth in the rancher's forcible skepticism. For the moment
+the old man's words carried some weight, then, as he remembered the
+unvarnished tale the cowboy had told, he returned to his conviction. He
+shook his massive head.
+
+"No one has gulled me, John. You shall hear the story for yourself as
+soon as the police arrive. You will the better be able to judge of the
+fellow's sincerity."
+
+At this moment the sound of horses' hoofs came in through the open
+window. Lablache glanced out on to the veranda.
+
+"Ah, here he is, and I'm glad to see they've sent Sergeant Horrocks. The
+very man for the work. Good," and he rubbed his fat hands together.
+"Horrocks is a great prairie man."
+
+"Poker" John rose and went out to meet the officer. Later he conducted
+him into the office. Sergeant Horrocks was a man of medium height,
+slightly built, but with an air of cat-like agility about him. He was
+very bronzed, with a sharp, rather than a clever face. His eyes were
+black and restless, and a thin mouth, hidden beneath a trim black
+mustache, and a perfectly-shaped aquiline nose, completed the sum of any
+features which might be called distinctive. He was a man who was
+thoroughly adapted to his work--work which needed a cool head and quick
+eye rather than great mental attainments. He was dressed in a brown
+canvas tunic with brass buttons, and his riding breeches were concealed
+in, a pair of well-worn leather "chaps." A Stetson hat worn at the exact
+angle on his head, with his official "side arms" secured round his
+waist, completed a very picturesque appearance.
+
+"Morning, Horrocks," said the money-lender. "This is a pretty business
+you've come down on. Left your men down in the settlement, eh?"
+
+"Yes. I thought I'd come and hear the rights of the matter straight
+away. According to your message you are the chief victim of this
+'duffing' business?"
+
+"Exactly," replied Lablache, with a return to his tone of anger, "one
+thousand head of beeves! Thirty-five thousand dollars' worth!" Then he
+went on more calmly: "But wait a moment, we'll send down for the 'hand'
+that brought in the news."
+
+A servant was despatched, and a few minutes later Jim Bowley entered.
+Jacky, returning from the corrals, entered at the same time. Directly
+she had seen the police horse outside she knew what was happening. When
+she appeared Lablache endeavored to conceal a look of annoyance.
+Sergeant Horrocks raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was not accustomed
+to petticoats being present at his councils. John, however, without
+motive, waived all chance of objection by anticipating his guests.
+
+"Sergeant, this is my niece, Jacky. Affairs of the prairie affect her as
+nearly as they do myself. Let us hear what this man has to tell us."
+
+Horrocks half bowed to the girl, touching the brim of his hat with a
+semi-military salute. Acquiescence to her presence was thus forced upon
+him.
+
+Jacky looked radiant in spite of the uncouthness of her riding attire.
+The fresh morning air was the tonic she loved, and, as yet, the day was
+too young for the tired shadows to have crept into her beautiful face.
+Horrocks, in spite of his tacit objection, was forced to admire the
+sturdy young face of this child of the prairie.
+
+Jim Bowley plunged into his story with a directness and simplicity which
+did not fail to carry conviction. He told all he knew without any
+attempt at shielding himself or his companions. Horrocks and the old
+rancher listened carefully to the story. Lablache looked for
+discrepancies but found none. Jacky, whilst paying every attention,
+keenly watched the face of the money-lender. The seriousness of the
+affair was reflected in all the faces present, whilst the daring of the
+raid was acknowledged by the upraised brows and wondering ejaculations
+which occasionally escaped the police-officer and "Poker" John. When the
+narrative came to a close there followed an impressive pause. Horrocks
+was the first to break it.
+
+"And how did you obtain your release?"
+
+"A Mennonite family, which had bin travelin' all night, came along 'bout
+an hour after daylight. They pitched camp nigh on to a quarter mile from
+the bluff w'ere we was tied up. Then they came right along to look fur
+kindlin'. There wasn't no other bluff for half a mile but ours. They
+found us all three. Young Nat 'ad got 'is collar-bone broke. Them
+'ustlers 'adn't lifted our 'plugs' so I jest came right in."
+
+"Have you seen these Mennonites?" asked the officer, turning sharply to
+the money-lender.
+
+"Not yet," was the heavy rejoinder. "But they are coming in."
+
+The significance of the question and the reply nettled the cowboy.
+
+"See hyar, mister, I ain't no coyote come in to pitch yarns. Wot I've
+said is gospel. The man as 'eld us up was Peter Retief as sure as I'm a
+living man. Sperrits don't walk about the prairie 'ustling cattle, an' I
+guess 'is 'and was an a'mighty solid one, as my jaw felt when 'e gagged
+me. You take it from me, 'e's come around agin to make up fur lost time,
+an' I guess 'e's made a tidy haul to start with."
+
+"Well, we'll allow that this man is the hustler you speak of," went on
+Horrocks, bending his keen eyes severely on the unfortunate cowboy.
+"Now, what about tracking the cattle?"
+
+"Guess I didn't wait fur that, but it'll be easy 'nough."
+
+"Ah, and you didn't recognize the man until you'd seen his horse?"
+
+The officer spoke sharply, like a counsel cross-examining a witness.
+
+"Wal, I can't say like that," said Jim, hesitating for the first time.
+"His looks was familiar, I 'lows. No, without knowing of it I'd
+recognized 'im, but 'is name didn't come along till I see that beast,
+Golden Eagle. I 'lows a good prairie hand don't make no mistake over
+cattle like that. 'E may misgive a face, but a beastie--no, siree."
+
+"So you base your recognition of the man on the identity of his horse. A
+doubtful assertion."
+
+"Thar ain't no doubt in my mind, sergeant. Ef you'll 'ave it so, I
+did--some."
+
+The officer turned to the other men.
+
+"If there's nothing more you want this man for, gentlemen, I have quite
+finished with him--for the present. With your permission," pulling out
+his watch, "I'll get him to take me to the er--scene of disaster in an
+hour's time."
+
+The two men nodded and Lablache conveyed the necessary order to the man,
+who then withdrew.
+
+As soon as Bowley had left the room three pairs of eyes were turned
+inquiringly upon the officer.
+
+"Well?" questioned Lablache, with some show of eagerness.
+
+Horrocks shrugged a pair of expressive shoulders.
+
+"From his point of view the man speaks the truth," he replied
+decisively. "And," he went on, more to himself than to the others, "we
+never had any clear proof that the scoundrel, Retief, came to grief.
+From what I remember things were very hot for him at the time of his
+disappearance. Maybe the man's right. However," turning to the others,
+"I should not be surprised if Mr. Retief has overreached himself this
+time. A thousand head of cattle cannot easily be hidden, or, for that
+matter, disposed of. Neither can they travel fast; and as for tracking,
+well," with a shrug, "in this case it should be child's play."
+
+"I hope it will prove as you anticipate," put in John Allandale,
+concisely. "What you suggest has been experienced by us before. However,
+the matter, I feel sure, is in capable hands."
+
+The officer acknowledged the compliment mechanically. He was thinking
+deeply. Lablache struggled to his feet, and, supporting his bulk with
+one hand resting upon the desk, gasped out his final words upon the
+matter.
+
+"I want you to remember, sergeant, this matter not only affects me
+personally but also in my capacity as a justice of the peace. To
+whatever reward I am able to make in the name of H.M. Government I shall
+add the sum of one thousand dollars for the recovery of the cattle, and
+the additional sum of one thousand dollars for the capture of the
+miscreant himself. I have determined to spare no expense in the matter
+of hunting this devil," with vindictive intensity, "down, therefore you
+can draw on me for all outlay your work may entail. All I say is,
+capture him."
+
+"I shall do my best, Mr. Lablache," Horrocks replied simply. "And now,
+if you will permit me, I will go down to the settlement to give a few
+orders to my men. Good-morning--er--Miss Allandale; good day, gentlemen.
+You will hear from me to-night."
+
+The officer left in all the pride of his official capacity. And possibly
+his pride was not without reason, for many and smart were the captures
+of evil-doers he had made during his career as a keeper of the peace.
+But we have been told that "pride goeth before a fall." His estimation
+of a "hustler" was not an exalted one. He was accustomed to dealing with
+men who shoot quick and straight--"bad men" in fact--and he was equally
+quick with the gun, and a dead shot himself. Possibly he was a shade
+quicker and a trifle more deadly than the smartest "bad man" known, but
+now he was dealing with a man of all these necessary attainments and
+whose resourcefulness and cleverness were far greater than his own.
+Sergeant Horrocks had a harder road to travel than he anticipated.
+
+Lablache took his departure shortly afterwards, and "Poker" John and his
+niece were left in sole possession of the office at the ranch.
+
+The old man looked thoroughly wearied with the mental effort the
+interview had entailed upon him. And Jacky, watching him, could not help
+noticing how old her uncle looked. She had been a silent observer in the
+foregoing scene, her presence almost ignored by the other actors. Now,
+however, that they were left alone, the old man turned a look of
+appealing helplessness upon her. Such was the rancher's faith in this
+wild, impetuous girl that he looked for her judgment on what had passed
+in that room with the ready faith of one who regards her as almost
+infallible, where human intellect is needed. Nor was the girl, herself,
+slow to respond to his mute inquiry. The swiftness of her answer
+enhanced the tone of her conviction.
+
+"Set a thief to catch a thief, Uncle John. I guess Horrocks, in spite of
+his shifty black eyes, isn't the man for the business. He might track
+the slimmest neche that ever crossed the back of a choyeuse. Lablache is
+the man Retief has to fear. That uncrowned monarch of Foss River is
+subtle, and subtlety alone will serve. Horrocks?" with fine disdain.
+"Say, you can't shoot snipe with a pea-shooter."
+
+"That's so," replied John, with weary thoughtlessness. "Do you know,
+child, I can't help feeling a strange satisfaction that this Retief's
+victim is Lablache. But there, one never knows, when such a man is
+about, who will be the next to suffer. I suppose we must take our chance
+and trust to the protection of the police."
+
+The girl had walked to the window and now stood framed in the casement
+of it. She turned her face back towards the old man as he finished
+speaking, and a quiet little smile hovered round the corners of her
+fresh ripe lips.
+
+"I don't think Retief will bother us any--at least, he never did before.
+Somehow I don't think he's an ordinary rascal." She turned back to the
+window. "Hulloa, I guess Bill's coming right along up the avenue."
+
+A moment later "Lord" Bill, lazily cheerful as was his wont, stepped in
+through the open French window. The selling up of his ranch seemed to
+have made little difference to his philosophical temperament. In his
+appearance, perhaps, for now he no longer wore the orthodox dress of the
+rancher. He was clad in a tweed lounging suit, and a pair of
+well-polished, brown leather boots. His headgear alone pertained to the
+prairie. It was a Stetson hat. He was smoking a cigarette as he came up,
+but he threw the insidious weed from him as he entered the room.
+
+"Morning, John. How are you, Jacky? I needn't ask you if you have heard
+the news. I saw Sergeant Horrocks and old Shylock leaving your veranda.
+Hot lot--isn't it? And all Lablache's cattle, too."
+
+A look of deep concern was on his keen face. Lablache might have been
+his dearest friend. Jacky smiled over at him. "Poker" John looked
+pained.
+
+"Guess you're right, Bill," said the rancher. "Hot--very hot. I pity the
+poor devil if Lablache lays a hand on him. Excuse me, boy, I'm going
+down to the barn. We've got a couple of ponies we're breaking to
+harness."
+
+The old man departed. The others watched the burly figure as he passed
+out of the door. His whole personality seemed shrunken of late. The old
+robustness seemed a thing of the past. The last two months seemed to
+have put ten years of ageing upon the kindly old man. Jacky sighed as
+the door closed behind him, and there was no smile in her eyes as she
+turned again to her lover. Bill's face had become serious.
+
+"Well?" in a tone of almost painful anxiety.
+
+The girl had started forward and was leaning with her two brown hands
+upon the back of a chair. Her face was pale beneath her tan, and her
+eyes were bright with excitement. For answer, Bunning-Ford stepped to
+the French window and closed it, having first glanced up and down the
+veranda to see that it was empty. Not a soul was in sight. The tall
+pines, which lined the approach to the house, waved silently in the
+light breeze. The clear sky was gloriously blue. On everything was the
+peace of summer.
+
+The man swung round and came towards the girl. His eagle face was lit up
+by an expression of triumph. He held out his two hands, and the girl
+placed her own brown ones in them. He drew her towards him and embraced
+her in silence. Then he moved a little away from her. His gleaming eyes
+indexed the activity of his mind.
+
+"The cattle are safe--as houses. It was a grand piece of work, dear.
+They would never have faced the path without your help. Say, girlie, I'm
+an infant at handling stock compared with you. Now--what news?"
+
+Jacky was smiling tenderly into the strong face of the man. She could
+not help but wonder at the reckless daring of this man, who so many set
+down as a lazy good-for-nothing. She knew--she had always known, she
+fancied--the strong character which underlay that indolent exterior. It
+never appealed to her to regret the chance that had driven him to use
+his abilities in such a cause. There was too much of the wild half-breed
+blood in her veins to allow her to stop to consider the
+might-have-beens. She gloried in his daring, and something of the spirit
+which had caused her to help her half-brother now forced from her an
+almost worshiping adoration for her lover.
+
+"Horrocks is to spare no expense in tracking--Retief--down." She laughed
+silently. "Lablache is to pay. They are going over the old ground again,
+I guess. The tracks of the cattle. Horrocks is not to be feared. We must
+watch Lablache. He will act. Horrocks will only be his puppet."
+
+Bill pondered before he spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said thoughtfully at last, "that is the best of news. The very
+best. Horrocks can track. He is one of the best at that game. But I have
+taken every precaution. Tracking is useless--waste of time."
+
+"I know that from past experience, Bill. Now that the campaign has
+begun, what is the next move?"
+
+The girl was all eagerness. Her beautiful dark face was no longer pale.
+It was aglow with the enthusiasm of her feelings. Her deep, meaning eyes
+burned with a consuming brilliancy. Framed in its setting of curling,
+raven hair, her face would have rejoiced the heart of the old masters of
+the Van Dyke school. She was wondrously beautiful. Bill gazed upon her
+features with devouring eyes, and thoughts of the wrongs committed by
+Lablache against her and hers teemed through his brain and set his blood
+surging through his veins in a manner that threatened to overbalance his
+usual cool judgment. He forced himself to an outward calmness, however,
+and the lazy tones of his voice remained as easy as ever.
+
+"On the result of the next move much will depend," he said. "It is to be
+a terrific _coup_, and will entail careful planning. It is fortunate
+that the people at the half-breed camp are the friends of--of--Retief."
+
+"Yes, and of mine," put in the girl. Then she added slowly, and as
+though with painful thought, "Say, Bill, be--be careful. I guess you are
+all I have in the world--you and uncle. Do you know, I've kind of seen
+to the end of this racket. Maybe there's trouble coming. Who's to be
+lagged I can't say. There are shadows around, Bill; the place fairly
+hums with 'em. Say, don't--don't give Lablache a slant at you. I can't
+spare you, Bill."
+
+The tall thin figure of her companion stepped over towards her, and she
+felt herself encircled by his long powerful arms. Then he bent down from
+his great height and kissed her passionately upon the lips.
+
+"Take comfort, little girl. This is a war, if necessary, to the death.
+Should anything happen to me, you may be sure that I leave you freed
+from the snares of old Shylock. Yes, I will be careful, Jacky. We are
+playing for a heavy stake. You may trust me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS
+
+
+Lablache was not a man of variable moods. He was too strong; his purpose
+in life was too strong for any vacillation of temper. His one aim--his
+whole soul--was wrapt in a craving for money-making and the inevitable
+power which the accumulation of great wealth must give him. In all his
+dealings he was perfectly--at least outwardly--calm, and he never
+allowed access to anger to thwart his ends. An inexorable purpose
+governed his actions to an extent which, while his feelings might
+undergo paroxysms of acute changes, never permitted him to make a false
+move or to show his hand prematurely. But this latest reverse had upset
+him more than he had ever been upset in his life, and all the great
+latent force of his character had suddenly, as it were, been
+precipitated into a torrent of ungovernable fury. He had been wounded
+deeply in the most vulnerable spot in his composition. Thirty-five
+thousands of his precious dollars ruthlessly torn from his capacious and
+retentive money-bags. Truly it was a cruel blow, and one well calculated
+to disturb the even tenor of his complacency.
+
+Thought was very busy within that massive head as he lumped heavily
+along from John Allandale's house in the direction of his own store.
+Some slight satisfaction was his at the reflection of the prompt
+assistance he had obtained from the police. It was the satisfaction of a
+man who lived by the assistance of the law, of a man who, in his own
+inordinate arrogance, considered that the law was made for such as he,
+to the detriment of those who attempt to thwart the rich man's purpose.
+He knew Horrocks to be capable, and although he did not place too much
+reliance on that astute prairie-man's judgment--he always believed in
+his own judgment first--still, he knew that he could not have obtained
+better assistance, and was therefore as content as circumstances would
+permit. That he was sanguine of recovering his property was doubtful.
+Lablache never permitted himself the luxury of optimism. He set himself
+a task and worked steadily on to the required end. So he had decided
+now. He did not permit himself to dwell on the desired result, or to
+anticipate. He would simply leave no stone unturned to bring about the
+recovery of his stolen property.
+
+He moved ponderously along over the smooth dusty road, and at last
+reached the market-place. The settlement was drowsily quiet. Life of a
+sort was apparent but it was chiefly "animal." The usual number of dogs
+were moving about, or peacefully basking in the sun; a few saddle horses
+were standing with dejected air, hitched to various tying-posts. A
+buckboard and team was standing outside his own door. The sound of the
+smith's hammer falling upon the anvil sounded plaintively upon the
+calmness of the sleepy village. In spite of the sensational raid of the
+night before, Foss River displayed no unusual activity.
+
+At length the great man reached his office, and threw himself, with
+great danger to his furniture, into his capacious wicker chair. He was
+in no mood for business. Instead he gazed long and thoughtfully out of
+his office window. What somber, vengeful thoughts were teeming through
+his brain would be hard to tell, his mask-like face betrayed nothing.
+His sphinx-like expression was a blank.
+
+In this way half an hour and more passed. Then his attention became
+fixed upon a tall figure sauntering slowly towards the settlement from
+the direction of Allandale's ranch. In a moment Lablache had stirred
+himself, and a pair of field-glasses were leveled at the unconscious
+pedestrian. A moment later an exclamation of annoyance broke from the
+money-lender.
+
+"Curse the man! Am I never to be rid of this damned Englishman?" He
+stood now gazing malevolently at the tall figure of the Hon.
+Bunning-Ford, who was leisurely making his way towards the village. For
+the time being the channel of Lablache's thoughts had changed its
+direction. He had hoped, in foreclosing his mortgages on the
+Englishman's property, to have rid Foss River of the latter's, to him,
+hateful presence. But since misfortune had come upon "Lord" Bill, the
+Allandales and he had become closer friends than ever. This effort had
+been one of the money-lender's few failures, and failure galled him with
+a bitterness the recollection of which no success could eliminate. The
+result was a greater hatred for the object of his vengeance, and a
+lasting determination to rid Foss River of the Englishman forever. And
+so he remained standing and watching until, at length, the entrance of
+one of his clerks, to announce that the saloon dinner-time was at hand,
+brought him out of his cruel reverie, and he set off in quest of the
+needs of his inner man, a duty which nothing, of whatever importance,
+was allowed to interfere with.
+
+In the meantime, Horrocks, or, as he was better known amongst his
+comrades, "the Ferret," was hot upon the trail of the lost cattle.
+Horrocks bristled with energy at every point, and his men, working with
+him, had reason to be aware of the fact. It was an old saying amongst
+them that when "the Ferret" was let loose there was no chance of bits
+rusting. In other words, his mileage report to his chiefs would be a
+long one.
+
+As the sergeant anticipated, it was child's play to track the stolen
+herd. The tracks left by the fast-driven cattle was apparent to the
+veriest greenhorn, and Horrocks and his men were anything but
+greenhorns.
+
+Long before evening closed in they had followed the footprints right
+down to the edge of the great muskeg, and already Horrocks anticipated a
+smart capture. But his task seemed easier than it really was. On the
+brink of the keg the tracks became confused. With some difficulty the
+sleuth instincts of these accomplished trackers led them to follow the
+marks for a mile and a half along the edge of the mire, then, it seemed,
+the herd had been turned and driven with great speed back on their
+tracks. But worse confusion became apparent; and "the Ferret" soon
+realized that the herd had been driven up and down along the border of
+the great keg with a view to evading further pursuit. So frequently had
+this been done that it was impossible to further trace the stock, and
+the sun was already sinking when Horrocks dismounted, and with him his
+men were at last forced to acknowledge defeat.
+
+He had come to a standstill with a stretch of a mile and a half of
+cattle tracks before him. There was no sign further than this of where
+the beasts had been driven. The keg itself gave no clew. It was as green
+and trackless as ever, and again on the land side there was not a single
+foot-print beyond the confused marks along the quagmire's dangerous
+border.
+
+The work of covering retreat had been carried out by a master hand, and
+Horrocks was not slow to acknowledge the cleverness of the raider. With
+all one good prairie man's appreciation for another he detected a foeman
+worthy of his steel, and he warmed to the problem set out before him.
+The troopers waited for their superior's instructions. As "the Ferret"
+did not speak one of the men commented aloud.
+
+"Smart work, sergeant," he said quietly. "I'm not surprised that this
+fellow rode roughshod over the district for so long and escaped all who
+were sent to nab him. He's clever, is P. Retief, Esq."
+
+Horrocks was looking out across the great keg. Strangely enough they had
+halted within twenty yards of the willow bush, at which point the secret
+path across the mire began. The man with the gold chevrons upon his arm
+ignored the remark of his companion, but answered with words which
+occurred in his own train of thought.
+
+"It's plain enough, I guess. Yonder is the direction taken by the
+cattle," he said, nodding his head towards the distant peaks of the
+mountains beyond. "But who's got the nerve to follow 'em? Say," he went
+on sharply, "somewhere along this bank, I mean in the mile and a half of
+hoof marks, there's a path turns out, or, at least, firm ground by which
+it is possible to cross this devil's keg. It must be so. Cattle can't be
+spirited away. Unless, of course--but no, a man don't duff cattle to
+drown 'em in a swamp. They've crossed this pernicious mire, boys. We may
+nab our friend, Retief, but we'll never clap eyes on those beasts."
+
+"It's the same old business over again, sergeant," said one of the
+troopers. "I was on this job before, and I reckon we landed hereabouts
+every time we lit on Retief's trail. But we never got no further. Yonder
+keg is a mighty hard nut to crack. I guess the half-breed's got the
+bulge on us. If path across the mire there is he knows it and we don't,
+and, as you say, who's goin' to follow him?" Having delivered himself of
+these sage remarks he stepped to the brink of the mire and put his foot
+heavily upon its surface. His top-boot sank quickly through the yielding
+crust, and the black subsoil rose with oily, sucking action, 'and his
+foot was immediately buried out of sight. He drew it out sharply, a
+shudder of horror quickening his action. Strong man and hardy as he was,
+the muskeg inspired him with a superstitious terror. "Guess there ain't
+no following them beasties through that, sergeant. Leastways, not for
+me."
+
+Horrocks had watched his subordinate's action thoughtfully. He knew,
+without showing, that no man or beast could attempt to cross the mire
+with any hope of success without the knowledge of some secret path. That
+such a path, or paths, existed he believed, for many were the stories of
+how criminals in past days escaped prairie law by such means. However,
+he had no knowledge of any such paths himself, and he had no intention
+of sacrificing his life uselessly in an attempt to discover the keg's
+most jealously guarded secret.
+
+He turned back to his horse and prepared to vault into the saddle.
+
+"It's no use, boys. We are done for to-day. You can ride back to the
+settlement. I have another little matter on hand. If any of you see
+Lablache just tell him I shall join him in about two hours' time."
+
+Horrocks rode off and his four troopers headed towards the Foss River.
+
+Despite the fact that his horse had been under the saddle for nearly
+eight hours Horrocks rode at a great pace. He was one of those men who
+are always to be found on the prairie--thorough horsemen. Men who, in
+times of leisure, care more for their horses than they do for
+themselves; men who regard their horses as they would a comrade, but
+who, when it becomes a necessity to work or travel, demand every effort
+the animal can make by way of return for the care which has been
+lavished upon it. Such men generally find themselves well repaid. A
+horse is something more than a creature with four legs, one at each
+corner, head out of one end, tail out of the other. There is an old
+saying in the West to the effect that a thorough horseman is worthy of
+man's esteem. The opinion amongst prairie men is that a man who loves
+his horse can never be wholly bad. And possibly we can accept this
+decision upon the subject without question, for their experience in men,
+especially in "bad men," is wide and varied.
+
+Horrocks avoided the settlement, leaving it well to the west, and turned
+his willing beast in the direction of the half-breed camp. There was an
+ex-Government scout living in this camp whom he knew; a man who was
+willing to sell to his late employers any information he chanced to
+possess. It was the officer's intention to see this man and purchase all
+he had to sell, if it happened to be worth buying. Hence his visit to
+the camp.
+
+The evening shadows were fast lengthening when he espied in the distance
+the squalid shacks and dilapidated teepees of the Breeds. There was a
+large colony of those wanderers of the West gathered together in the
+Foss River camp. We have said that these places are hot-beds of crime, a
+curse to the country; but that description scarcely conveys the wretched
+poverty and filthiness of these motley gatherings. From a slight rising
+ground Horrocks looked down on what might have, at first sight, been
+taken for a small village. A scattering of small tumbled-down shacks,
+about fifty in number, set out on the fresh green of the prairie,
+created the first blot of uncleanly, uncouth habitation upon the view.
+Add to these a proportionate number of ragged tents and teepees, a crowd
+of unwashed, and, for the most part, undressed children, a hundred
+fierce and half-starved dogs of the "husky" type. Imagine a stench of
+dung fire cooking, and the gathering of millions of mosquitoes about a
+few choyeuses and fat cattle grazing near by, and the picture as it
+first presents itself is complete.
+
+The approach to such a place makes one almost wish the undulating
+prairie was not quite so fair a picture, for the contrast with man's
+filthy squalor is so great that the feeling of nauseation which results
+is almost overpowering. Horrocks, however, was used to such scenes. His
+duty often took him into worse Breed camps than this. He treated such
+places to a perfectly callous indifference, and regarded them merely as
+necessary evils.
+
+At the first shack he drew up and instantly became the center of
+attention from a pack of yelping dogs and a number of half-fearful,
+wide-eyed ragamuffins, grimy children nearly naked and ranging in age
+from two years up to twelve. Young as the latter were they were an
+evil-looking collection. The noisy greeting of the camp dogs had aroused
+the elders from their indolent repose within the shacks, and Horrocks
+quickly became aware of a furtive spying within the darkened doorways
+and paneless windows.
+
+The reception was nothing unusual to the officer. The Breeds he knew
+always fought shy of the police. As a rule, such a visit as the present
+portended an arrest, and they were never quite sure who the victim was
+to be and the possible consequences. Crime was so common amongst these
+people that in nearly every family it was possible to find one or more
+law-breakers and, more often than not, the delinquent was liable to
+capital punishment.
+
+Ignoring his cool reception, Horrocks hitched his horse to a tree and
+stepped up to the shack, regardless of the vicious snapping of the dogs.
+The children fled precipitately at his approach. At the door of the
+house he halted.
+
+"Hallo there, within!" he called.
+
+There was a moment's pause, and he heard a whispered debate going on in
+the shadowy interior.
+
+"Hey!" he called again. "Get a hustle on, some of you. Get out," he
+snapped sharply, as a great husky, with bristling hair, came snuffing at
+his legs. He aimed a kick at the dog, which, in response, sullenly
+retreated to a safe distance.
+
+The angry tone of his second summons had its effect, and a figure moved
+cautiously within and finally approached the door.
+
+"Eh! what is it?" asked a deep, guttural voice, and a bulky form framed
+itself in the opening.
+
+The police-officer eyed the man keenly. The twilight had so far deepened
+that there was barely sufficient light to distinguish the man's
+features, but Horrocks's survey satisfied him as to the fellow's
+identity. He was a repulsive specimen of the Breed; the dark, lowering
+face had something utterly cruel in its expression. The cast was brutal
+in the extreme; sensual, criminal. The shifty black eyes looked anywhere
+but into the policeman's face.
+
+"That you, Gustave?" said Horrocks, pleasantly enough. He wished to
+inspire confidence. "I'm looking for Gautier. I've got a nice little job
+for him. Do you know where he is?"
+
+"Ugh!" grunted Gustave, heavily, but with a decided air of relief. He
+entertained a wholesome dread of Sergeant Horrocks. Now he became more
+communicative. Horrocks had not come to arrest anybody. "I see," he went
+on, gazing out across the prairie, "this is not a warrant business, eh?
+Guess Gautier is back there," with a jerk of a thumb in a vague
+direction behind him. "He's in his shack. Gautier's just hooked up with
+another squaw."
+
+"Another?" Horrocks whistled softly. "Why, that's the sixth to my
+knowledge. He's very much a marrying man. How much did he pay the neche
+this time?"
+
+"Two steers and a sheep," said the man, with an oily grin.
+
+"Ah! I wonder how he acquired 'em. Well, I'll go and find him. Gautier
+is smart, but he'll land himself in the penitentiary if he goes on
+marrying squaws at that price. Say, which is his shack did you say?"
+
+"Back thar. You'll see it. He's just limed the outside of it. Guess
+white's the color his new squaw fancies most. S'long."
+
+The man was glad to be rid of his visitor. In spite of the sergeant's
+assurance, Gustave never felt comfortable in the officer's presence.
+Horrocks moved off in search of the white hut, while the Breed, with
+furtive eyes, watched his progress.
+
+There was no difficulty in locating the shack in that colony of grime.
+Even in the darkness the gleaming white of the ex-spy's abode stood out
+prominently. The dogs and children now tacitly acknowledged the right of
+the police-officer's presence in their camp, and allowed him to move
+about apparently unnoticed. He wound his way amongst the huts and tents,
+ever watchful and alert, always aiming for Gautier's hut. He knew that
+in this place at night his life was not worth much. A quick aim, and a
+shot from behind, and no one would ever know who had dropped him. But
+the Canadian police are accustomed to take desperate chances in their
+work, and think less of it than do our police patrols in the slums of
+London.
+
+He found Gautier sitting at his hut door waiting for him. Another might
+have been surprised at the Breed's cognizance of the police-officer's
+intentions, but Horrocks knew the habits of these people, and was fully
+alive to the fact that while he had been talking to Gustave a messenger
+was dispatched to warn Gautier that he was sought.
+
+"Well, sergeant, what's your best news?" Gautier asked civilly. He was a
+bright, intelligent-looking, dusky man, of perhaps forty years. His face
+was less brutal than that of the other Breed, but it was none the less
+cunning. He was short and massively built.
+
+"That's just what I've come to ask you, Gautier. I think you can tell me
+all I want to know--if you've a notion to. Say," with a keen look round,
+"can we talk here?"
+
+There was not a soul visible but an occasional playing child. It was
+curious how quiet the camp became. Horrocks was not deceived, however.
+He knew that a hundred pairs of eyes were watching him from the reeking
+recesses of the huts.
+
+"No talk here." Gautier was serious, and his words conveyed a lot. "It's
+bad medicine your coming to-night. But there," with a return to his
+cunning look, "I don't know that I've got anything to tell."
+
+Horrocks laughed softly.
+
+"Yes--yes, I know. You needn't be afraid." Then lowering his voice:
+"I've got a roll of bills in my pocket."
+
+"Ah, then don't stay here talking. There's lots to tell, but they'd kill
+me if they suspected. Where can I see you--quiet-like? They won't lose
+sight of me if they can help it, but I reckon I'm good for the best of
+'em."
+
+The man's attempt to look sincere was almost ludicrous. His cunning eyes
+twinkled with cupidity. Horrocks kept his voice down.
+
+"Right. I shall be at Lablache's store in an hour's time. You must see
+me to-night." Then aloud, for the benefit of listening ears, "You be
+careful what you are doing. This promiscuous buying of wives, with
+cattle which you may have difficulty in accounting for your possession
+of, will lead you into trouble. Mind, I've warned you. Just look to it."
+
+His last sentences were called out as he moved away, and Gautier quite
+understood.
+
+Horrocks did not return the way he had come, but took a circuitous
+route through the camp. He was a man who never lost a chance in his
+work, and now, while he was in the midst of that criminal haunt, he
+thought it as well to take a look round. He hardly knew what he expected
+to find out--if anything. But he required information of Retief, and he
+was fully alive to the fact that all that individual's movements would
+be known here. He trusted to luck to help him to discover something.
+
+The smartest of men have to work against overwhelming odds in the
+detection of crime. Many and devious are the ways of men whose hand is
+against the law. Surely is the best detective a mere babe in the hands
+of a clever criminal. In this instance the very thing that Horrocks was
+in search of was about to be forced upon him. For underlying that
+information was a deep-laid scheme.
+
+Never can reliance be placed in a true half-breed. The heathen Chinee is
+the ideal of truth and honesty when his wiles are compared with the dark
+ways of the Breed. Horrocks, with all his experience, was no match for
+the dusky-visaged outcast of the plains. Gautier had been deputied to
+convey certain information to Lablache by the patriarchs of the camp.
+And with his native cunning he had decided, on the appearance of
+Sergeant Horrocks, to extort a price for that which it was his duty to
+tell. Besides this, as matters had turned out, Horrocks was to receive
+gratis that for which he would shortly pay Gautier.
+
+He had made an almost complete circuit of the camp. Accustomed as he was
+to such places, the stench of it almost made him sick. He came to a
+stand close beside one of the outlying teepees. He was just preparing to
+fill his pipe and indulge in a sort of disinfecting smoke when he became
+aware of voices talking loudly close by. The sound proceeded from the
+teepees. From force of habit he listened. The tones were gruff, and
+almost Indian-like in the brevity of expression. The language was the
+bastard jargon of the French half-breed. For a moment he was doubtful.
+Then his attention became riveted.
+
+"Yes," said one voice, "he is a good man, is Peter. When he has plenty
+he spends it. He does not rob the poor Breed. Only the gross white man.
+Peter is clever. Very."
+
+Then another voice, deep-toned and full, took up the eulogy.
+
+"Peter knows how to spend his money. He spends it among his friends. It
+is good. How much whisky will he buy, think you?"
+
+Another voice chipped in at this point, and Horrocks strained his ears
+to catch the words, for the voice was the voice of a female and her
+utterance was indistinct.
+
+"He said he would pay for everything--all we could eat and drink--and
+that the pusky should be held the night after to-morrow. He will come
+himself and dance the Red River jig. Peter is a great dancer and will
+dance all others down."
+
+Then the first speaker laughed.
+
+"Peter must have a long stocking if he would pay for all. A barrel of
+rye would not go far, and as for food, he must bring several of the
+steers which he took from old Lablache if he would feed us. But Peter is
+always as good as his word. He said he would pay. And he will pay. When
+does he come to prepare?"
+
+"He does not come. He has left the money with Baptiste, who will see to
+everything. Peter will not give 'the Ferret' a chance."
+
+"But how? The dance will be a danger to him," said the woman's voice.
+"What if 'the Ferret' hears?"
+
+"He will not hear, and, besides, Peter will be prepared if the damned
+police come. Have no fear for Peter. He is bold."
+
+The voices ceased and Horrocks waited a little longer. But presently,
+when the voices again became audible, the subject of conversation had
+changed, and he realized that he was not likely to hear more that would
+help him. So, with great caution, he stole quickly away to where his
+horse was tied. He mounted hastily and rode off, glad to be away from
+that reeking camp, and greatly elated with the success of the visit.
+
+He had learned a lot. And he was to hear more yet from Gautier. He felt
+that the renowned "hustler" was already in his clutches. His spurs went
+sharply into his broncho's flanks and he raced over the prairie towards
+the settlement. Possibly he should have known better than to trust to
+the overhearing of that conversation. His knowledge of the Breeds should
+have warned him to put little faith in what he had heard. But he was
+eager. His reputation was largely at stake over this affair, and that
+must be the excuse for the rashness of his faith. However, the penalty
+of his folly was to be his, therefore blame can well be spared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION
+
+
+"Sit down and let me hear the--worst."
+
+Lablache's voice rasped harshly as he delivered his mandate. Horrocks
+had just arrived at the money-lender's store after his visit to the
+half-breed camp. The police-officer looked weary. And the dejected
+expression on his face had drawn from his companion the hesitating
+superlative.
+
+"Have you got anything to eat?" Horrocks retorted quickly, ignoring the
+other's commands. "I am famished. Had nothing since I set out from
+Stormy Cloud. I can't talk on an empty stomach."
+
+Lablache struck a table bell sharply, and one of his clerks, all of whom
+were still working in the store, entered. The money-lender's clerks
+always worked early and late. It was part of the great man's creed to
+sweat his _employees_.
+
+"Just go over to the saloon, Markham, and tell them to send supper for
+one--something substantial," he called out after the man, who hastened
+to obey with the customary precipitance of all who served the flinty
+financier.
+
+The man disappeared in a twinkling and Lablache turned to his visitor
+again.
+
+"They'll send it over at once. There's some whisky in that bottle,"
+pointing to a small cabinet, through the glass door of which gleamed the
+white label of "special Glenlivet." "Help yourself. It'll buck you up."
+
+Horrocks obeyed with alacrity, and the genial spirit considerably
+refreshed him. He then reseated himself opposite to his host, who had
+faced round from his desk.
+
+"My news is not the--worst, as you seem to anticipate; although,
+perhaps, it might have been better," the officer began. "In fact, I am
+fairly well pleased with the result of my day's work."
+
+"Which means, I take it, that you have discovered a clew."
+
+Lablache's heavy eyes gleamed.
+
+"Rather more than a clew," Horrocks went on reflectively. "My
+information relates more to the man than to the beasts. We shall, I
+think, lay our hands on this--Retief."
+
+"Good--good," murmured the money-lender, inclining his heavy jowled
+head. "Find the man and we shall recover the cattle."
+
+"I am not so sure of that," put in the other. "However, we shall see."
+
+Lablache looked slightly disappointed. The capture of Retief seemed to
+him synonymous with the recovery of his stock. However, he waited for
+his visitor to proceed. The money-lender was essentially a man to draw
+his own conclusions after hearing the facts, and no opinion of another
+was likely to influence him when once those conclusions were arrived at.
+Lablache was a strong man mentally and physically. And few cared to
+combat his decisions or opinions.
+
+For a moment further talk was interrupted by the entry of a man with
+Horrocks's supper. When the fellow had withdrawn the police-officer
+began his repast and the narration of his story at the same time.
+Lablache watched and listened with an undisturbed concentration. He lost
+no point, however small, in the facts as stated by the officer. He
+refrained from interruption, excepting where the significance of certain
+points in the story escaped him, and, at the conclusion, he was as
+conversant with the situation as though he had been present at the
+investigation. The great man was profoundly impressed with what he
+heard. Not so much with the shrewdness of the officer as with the simple
+significance of the loss of further trace of the cattle at the edge of
+the muskeg. Up to this point of the story he felt assured that Horrocks
+was to be perfectly relied upon, but, for the rest, he was not so sure.
+He felt that though this man was the finest tracker in the country the
+delicate science of deduction was not necessarily an accompaniment to
+his prairie abilities. Therefore, for the moment, he concentrated his
+thoughts upon the features surrounding the great keg.
+
+"It is a curious thing," he said retrospectively, as the policeman
+ceased speaking, "that in all previous raids of this Retief we have
+invariably tracked the lost stock down to this point. Of course, as you
+say, there is not the slightest doubt that the beasts have been herded
+over the keg. Everything seems to me to hinge on the discovery of that
+path. That is the problem which confronts us chiefly. How are we to find
+the secret of the crossing?"
+
+"It cannot be done," said Horrocks, simply but with decision.
+
+"Nonsense," exclaimed the other, with a heavy gasp of breath. "Retief
+knows it, and the others with him. Those cattle could not have been
+herded over single-handed. Now to me it seems plain that the crossing is
+a very open secret amongst the Breeds."
+
+"And I presume you consider that we should work chiefly on that
+hypothesis?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"And you do not consider the possible capture of Retief as being the
+most important feature of the case?"
+
+"Important--certainly. But, for the moment, of minor consideration. Once
+we discover the means by which he secretes his stock--and the
+hiding-place--we can stop his depredations and turn all our energies to
+his capture. You follow me? At first I was inclined to think with you
+that the capture of the man would be the best thing. But now it seems to
+me that the easiest method of procedure will be the discovery of that
+path."
+
+The rasping tone in which Lablache spoke conveyed to the other his
+unalterable conviction. The prairie man, however, remained unconvinced.
+
+"Well," he replied, after a moment's deliberation, "I cannot say I agree
+with you. Open secret or not, I've a notion that we'd stand a better
+chance of discovering the profoundest of state secrets than elicit
+information, even supposing them to possess it, of this description from
+the Breeds. I expect Gautier here in a few minutes; we shall hear what
+he has to say."
+
+"I trust he _may_ have something to say."
+
+Lablache snapped his reply out in that peculiar tone of his which spoke
+volumes. It never failed to anger him to have his opinions gainsaid.
+Then his manner changed slightly, and his mood seemed to become
+contemplative. Horrocks observed the change and wondered what was
+coming. The money-lender cleared his throat and spat into the stove.
+Then he spoke with that slow deliberation which was his when thinking
+deeply.
+
+"Two years ago, when Retief did what he liked in this part of the
+country, there were many stories going about as to his relationship with
+a certain lady in this settlement."
+
+"Miss Allandale--yes, I have heard."
+
+"Just so; some said that she--er--was very partial to him. Some, that
+they were distantly connected. All were of opinion that she knew a great
+deal of the man if she only chose to tell. These stories were
+gossip--merely. These small places are given to gossip. But I must
+confess to a belief that gossip is often--always, in fact--founded on a
+certain amount of fact."
+
+There was no niceness of feeling about this mountain of obesity in
+matters of business. He spoke as callously of the girl, for whom he
+entertained his unholy passion, as he would speak of a stranger. He
+experienced no compunction in linking her name with that of an outlaw.
+His gross nature was of too low an order to hold anything sacred where
+his money-bags were affected.
+
+"Perhaps you--er--do not know," he pursued, carefully lighting his pipe
+and pressing the charred tobacco down with the tip of his little finger,
+"that this girl is the daughter of a Breed mother?"
+
+"Guess I hadn't a notion."
+
+Horrocks's keen eyes flashed with interest. He too lit his pipe as he
+lounged back in his chair.
+
+"She is a quarter-breed, and, moreover, the esteem in which she is held
+by the skulking inhabitants of the camp inclines me to the belief
+that--er--judicious--er--handling--"
+
+"You mean that through her we might obtain the information we require?"
+
+Horrocks punctuated the other's deliberate utterances with hasty
+eagerness. Lablache permitted a vague smile about the corners of his
+mouth, his eyes remained gleaming coldly.
+
+"You anticipate me. The matter would need delicate handling. What Miss
+Allandale has done in the past will not be easy to find out. Granting,
+of course, that gossip has not wronged her," he went on doubtfully. "On
+second thoughts, perhaps you had better leave that source of information
+to me."
+
+He relapsed apparently into deep thought. His pensive deliberation was
+full of guile. He had a purpose to achieve which necessitated the
+suggestion which he had made to this representative of the law. He
+wished to impress upon his companion a certain connivance on the part
+of, at least, one member of the house of Allandale with the doings of
+the raider. He merely wished to establish a suspicion in the mind of the
+officer. Time and necessity might develop it, if it suited Lablache's
+schemes that such should occur. In the meantime he knew he could direct
+this man's actions as he chose.
+
+The calm superiority of the money-lender was not lost upon his
+companion. Horrocks was nettled, and showed it.
+
+"But you'll pardon me, Mr. Lablache. You have offered me a source of
+information which, as a police-officer, it is my duty to sound. As you
+yourself admit, the old stories of a secret love affair may have some
+foundation in fact. Accept that and what possibilities are not opened
+up? Had I been employed on the affairs of Retief, during his previous
+raids, I should certainly have worked upon so important a clew."
+
+"Tut, tut, man," retorted the other, sharply. "I understood you to be a
+keen man at your business. A single ill-timed move in the direction we
+are discussing and the fat will be in the fire. The girl is as smart as
+paint; at the first inkling of your purpose she'll curl up--shut up like
+a rat trap. The Breeds will be warned and we shall be further off
+success than ever. No, no, when it comes to handling Jacky Allandale you
+leave it to me--Ah!"
+
+Lablache's ejaculation was the result of the sudden apparition of a dark
+face peering in at his window. He swung round with lightning rapidity,
+and before Horrocks could realize what he was doing his fat hand was
+grasping the butt of a revolver. Then, with a grunt of annoyance, he
+turned back to his guest.
+
+"That's your Breed, I take it. For the moment I thought it was some one
+else; it's always best in these parts to shoot first and inquire
+afterwards. I occasionally get some strange visitors."
+
+The policeman laughed as he went to the door. His irritation at the
+money-lender's manner was forgotten. The strangeness of the sight of
+Lablache's twenty stone of flesh moving with lightning rapidity
+astonished him beyond measure. Had he not seen it nothing would have
+convinced him of the man's marvelous agility when roused by emergency.
+It was something worth remembering.
+
+Sure enough, the face on the other side of the window belonged to
+Gautier, and, as Horrocks opened the door, the Breed pushed his way
+stealthily in.
+
+"It's all right, boss," said the man, with some show of anxiety, "I've
+slipped 'em. I'm watched pretty closely, but--good evening, sir," he
+went on, turning to Lablache with obsequious politeness. "This is bad
+medicine--this business we're on."
+
+Lablache cleared his throat and spat, but deigned no reply. He intended
+to take no part in the ensuing conversation. He only wished to observe.
+
+Horrocks at once became the officer to the subordinate. He turned
+sharply on the Breed.
+
+"Cut the cackle and come to business. Have you anything to tell us about
+this Retief? Out with it sharp."
+
+"That depends, boss," said the man, with a cunning smile. "As you sez.
+Cut the cackle and come to business. Business means a deal, and a deal
+means 'cash pappy.' Wot's the figger?"
+
+There was no obsequious politeness about the fellow now. He was about as
+bad a specimen of the Breed as could well be found. Hence his late
+employment by the authorities. "The worse the Breed the better the spy,"
+was the motto of those whose duty it was to investigate crime. Gautier
+was an excellent spy, thoroughly unscruplous and rapacious. His
+information was always a saleable commodity, and he generally found his
+market a liberal one. But with business instincts worthy of Lablache
+himself he was accustomed to bargain first and impart after.
+
+"See here," retorted Horrocks, "I don't go about blind-folded. Neither
+am I going to fling bills around without getting value for 'em. What's
+your news? Can you lay hands on Retief, or tell us where the stock is
+hidden?"
+
+"Guess you're looking fer somethin' now," said the man, impudently. "Ef
+I could supply that information right off some 'un 'ud hev to dip deep
+in his pocket fur it. I ken put you on to a good even trail, an' fifty
+dollars 'ud be small pay for the trouble an' the danger I'm put to. Wot
+say? Fifty o' the best greenbacks?"
+
+"Mr. Lablache can pay you if he chooses, but until I know that your
+information's worth it I don't part with fifty cents. Now then, we've
+had dealings before, Gautier--dealings which have not always been to
+your credit. You can trust me to part liberally if you've anything
+worth telling, but mind this, you don't get anything beforehand, and if
+you don't tell us all you know, in you go to Calford and a diet of
+skilly'll be your lot for some time to come."
+
+The man's face lowered considerably at this. He knew Horrocks well, and
+was perfectly aware that he would be as good as his word. There was
+nothing to be gained by holding out. Therefore he accepted the
+inevitable with as bad a grace as possible. Lablache kept silence, but
+he was reading the Breed as he would a book.
+
+"See hyar, sergeant," said Gautier, sulkily, "you're mighty hard on the
+Breeds, an' you know it. It'll come back on you, sure, one o' these
+days. Guess I'm going to play the game square. It ain't fur me to bluff
+men o' your kidney, only I like to know that you're going to treat me
+right. Well, this is what I've got to say, an' it's worth fifty as
+you'll 'low."
+
+Horrocks propped himself upon the corner of the money-lender's desk and
+prepared to listen. Lablache's lashless eyes were fixed with a steady,
+unblinking stare upon the half-breed's face. Not a muscle of his own
+pasty, cruel face moved. Gautier was talking to, at least, one man who
+was more cunning and devilish than himself.
+
+The dusky ruffian gave a preliminary cough and then launched upon his
+story with all the flowery embellishments of which his inventive fancy
+was capable. What he had to tell was practically the same as Horrocks
+had overheard. There were a few items of importance which came fresh to
+the police-officer's ears. It stuck Lablache that the man spoke in the
+manner of a lesson well learned, and, in consequence, his keen interest
+soon relaxed. Horrocks, however, judged differently, and saw in the
+man's story a sound corroboration of his own information. As the story
+progressed his interest deepened, and at its conclusion he questioned
+the half-breed closely.
+
+"This pusky. I suppose it will be the usual drunken orgie?"
+
+"I guess," was the laconic rejoinder.
+
+"Any of the Breeds from the other settlements coming over?"
+
+"Can't say, boss. Like enough, I take it."
+
+"And what is Retief's object in defraying all expenses--in giving the
+treat, when he knows that the white men are after him red-hot?"
+
+"Mebbe it's bluff--cheek. Peter's a bold man. He snaps his fingers at
+the police," replied Gautier, illustrating his words with much
+appreciation. He felt he was getting a smack at the sergeant.
+
+"Then Peter's a fool."
+
+"Guess you're wrong thar. Peter's the slickest 'bad man' I've heerd tell
+of."
+
+"We'll see. Now what about the keg? Of course the cattle have crossed
+it. A secret path?"
+
+"Yup."
+
+"Who knows the secret of it?"
+
+"Peter."
+
+"Only?"
+
+The Breed hesitated. His furtive eyes shifted from one face to the other
+of his auditors. Then encountering the fixed stare of both men he
+glanced away towards the window. He seemed uncomfortable under the mute
+inquiry. Then he went on doubtfully.
+
+"I guess thar's others. It's an old secret among the Breeds. An' I've
+heerd tell as some whites knows it."
+
+A swift exchange of meaning glances passed between the two listeners.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Can't say."
+
+"Won't--you mean?"
+
+"No, boss. Ef I knew it 'ud pay me well to tell. Guess I don't know.
+I've tried to find out."
+
+"Now look you. Retief has always been supposed to have been drowned in
+the keg. Where's he been all the time?"
+
+The half-breed grinned. Then his face became suddenly serious. He began
+to think the cross-questioning was becoming too hot He decided to draw
+on his imagination.
+
+"Peter was no more drowned than I was. He tricked you--us all--into that
+belief. Gee!--but he's slick. Peter went to Montana. When the States got
+too sultry fur 'im he jest came right back hyar. He's been at the camp
+fur two weeks an' more."
+
+Horrocks was silent after this. Then he turned to Lablache.
+
+"Anything you'd like to ask him?"
+
+The money-lender shook his head and Horrocks turned back to his man.
+
+"I guess that's all. Here's your fifty," he went on, taking a roll of
+bills from his pocket and counting out the coveted greenbacks. "See and
+don't get mad drunk and get to shooting. Off you go. If you learn
+anything more I'm ready to pay for it."
+
+Gautier took the bills and hastily crammed them into his pocket as if he
+feared he might be called upon to return them. Then he made for the
+door. He hesitated before he passed out.
+
+"Say, sergeant, you ain't goin' fur to try an' take 'im at the pusky?"
+he asked, with an appearance of anxiety.
+
+"That's my business. Why?"
+
+The Breed shrugged.
+
+"Ye'll feed the coyotes, sure as--kingdom come. Say they'll jest flay
+the pelt off yer."
+
+"Git!"
+
+The rascal "got" without further delay or evil prophecy. He knew
+Horrocks.
+
+When the door closed, and the officer had assured himself of the man's
+departure, he turned to his host.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well?" retorted Lablache.
+
+"What do you make of it?"
+
+"An excellent waste of fifty dollars."
+
+Lablache's face was expressive of indifference mixed with incredulity.
+
+"He told you what you already knew," he pursued, "and drew on his
+imagination for the rest. I'll swear that Retief has not been seen at
+the Breed camp for the last fortnight. Moreover, that man was reciting a
+carefully-thought-out tale. I fancy you have something yet to learn in
+your business, Horrocks. You have not the gift of reading men."
+
+The police-officer's face was a study. As he listened to the masterful
+tone of his companion his color came and went. His dark skin flushed and
+then rapidly paled. A blaze of anger leapt into his keen, flashing eyes.
+Lablache had flicked him sorely. He struggled to keep cool.
+
+"Unfortunately my position will not allow me to fall out with you," he
+said, with scarcely-suppressed heat, "otherwise I should call you
+sharply to account for your insulting remarks. For the moment we will
+pass them over. In the meantime, Mr. Lablache, let me tell you, my
+experience leads me to trust largely to the story of that man. Gautier
+has sold me a good deal of excellent information in the past, and I am
+convinced that what I have now heard is not the least of his efforts in
+the law's behalf. Rascal--scoundrel--as he is, he would not dare to set
+me on a false scent--"
+
+"Not if backed by a man like Retief--and all the half-breed camp? You
+surprise me."
+
+Horrocks gritted his teeth but spoke sharply. Lablache's supercilious
+tone of mockery drove him to the verge of madness.
+
+"Not even under these circumstances. I shall attend that pusky and
+effect the arrest. I understand these people better than you give me
+credit for. I presume your discretion will not permit you to be present
+at the capture?"
+
+It was Horrocks's turn to sneer now. Lablache remained unmoved. He
+merely permitted the ghost of a smile.
+
+"My discretion will not permit me to be present at the pusky. There will
+be no capture, I fear."
+
+"Then I'll bid you good-night. There is no need to further intrude upon
+your time."
+
+"None whatever."
+
+The money-lender did not attempt to show the policeman any
+consideration. He had decided that Horrocks was a fool, and when
+Lablache formed such an opinion of a man he rarely attempted to conceal
+it, especially when the man stood in a subordinate position.
+
+After seeing the officer off the premises, Lablache moved heavily back
+to his desk. The alarm clock indicated ten minutes to nine. He stood for
+some moments gazing with introspective eyes at the timepiece. He was
+thinking hard. He was convinced that what he had just heard was a mere
+fabrication, invented to cover some ulterior motive. That motive puzzled
+him. He had no fear for Horrocks's life. Horrocks wore the uniform of
+the Government. Lawless and all as the Breeds were, he knew they would
+not resist the police--unless, of course, Retief were there. Having
+decided in his mind that Retief would not be there he had no misgivings.
+He failed to fathom the trend of affairs at all. In spite of his outward
+calm he felt uneasy, and he started as though he had been shot when he
+heard a loud knocking at his private door.
+
+The money-lender's hand dropped on to the revolver lying upon the desk,
+and he carried the weapon with him when he went to answer the summons.
+His alarm was needless. His late visitor was "Poker" John.
+
+The old rancher came in sheepishly enough. There was no mistaking the
+meaning of his peculiar crouching gait, the leering upward glance of his
+bloodshot eyes. To any one who did not know him, his appearance might
+have been that of a drink-soaked tramp, so dishevelled and bleared he
+looked. Lablache took in the old man's condition in one swift glance
+from his pouched and fishy eyes. His greeting was cordial--too cordial.
+Any other but the good-hearted, simple old man would have been
+suspicious of it. Cordiality was not Lablache's nature.
+
+"Ah, John, better late than never," he exclaimed gutturally. "Come in
+and have a smoke."
+
+"Yes, I thought I'd just come right down and--see if you'd got any
+news."
+
+"None--none, old friend. Nothing at all. Horrocks is a fool, I'm
+thinking. Take that chair," pointing to the basket chair. "You're not
+looking up to the mark. Have a nip of Glenlivet."
+
+He passed the white-labeled bottle over to his companion, and watched
+the rancher curiously as he shakily helped himself to a liberal "four
+fingers." "Poker" John was rapidly breaking up. Lablache fully realized
+this.
+
+"No news--no news," murmured John, as he smacked his lips over his "tot"
+of whisky. "It's bad, man, very bad. We're not safe in this place whilst
+that man's about. Dear, dear, dear."
+
+The senility of the rancher was painfully apparent. Doubtless it was the
+result of his recent libations and excesses. The money-lender was quite
+aware that John had not come to him to discuss the "hustler." He had
+come to suggest a game of cards, but for reasons of his own the former
+wished to postpone the request. He had not expected that "Poker" John
+would have come this evening; therefore, certain plans of his were not
+to have been put into execution until the following day. Now, however,
+it was different. John's coming, and his condition, offered him a chance
+which was too good to be missed, and Lablache was never a man to miss
+opportunities.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY
+
+
+Presently the old man drew himself up a little. The spirit had a bracing
+effect upon him. The dull leering eyes assumed a momentary brightness,
+and he almost grew cheerful. The change was not lost upon Lablache. It
+was a veritable game of the cat and the mouse.
+
+"This is the first time your stock has been touched," said John,
+meaninglessly. His thoughts were running upon the game of cards he had
+promised himself. An unaccountable lack of something like moral courage
+prevented him talking of it. Possibly it was the iron influence of his
+companion which forbade the suggestion of cards. "Poker" John was
+inwardly chafing at his own weakness.
+
+"Yes," responded the other, "I have not been touched before." Then,
+suddenly, he leant forward, and, for the moment, the money-lender's face
+lit up with something akin to kindliness. It was an unusual sight, and
+one not to be relied upon. "How many years is it, John, that we have
+struggled side by side in this benighted land?"
+
+The rancher looked at the other, then his eyes dropped. He scarcely
+comprehended. He was startled at the expression of that leathery, puffed
+face. He shifted uneasily with the curious weakly restlessness of a
+shattered nerve.
+
+"More years, I guess, than I care to think of," he murmured at last.
+
+"Yes, yes, you're right, John--quite right. It doesn't do to look back
+too far. We're getting on. But we're not old men yet. We're rich, John,
+rich in land and experience. No, not so old. We can still give the
+youngsters points, John. Ha, ha!"
+
+Lablache laughed hollowly at his own pleasantry. His companion joined
+in the laugh, but without mirth. Poker--he could think of nothing but
+poker. The money-lender insinuatingly pushed the whisky bottle closer to
+the senile rancher. Almost unconsciously the old man helped himself.
+
+"I wonder what it would be like living a private, idle life?" Lablache
+went on, as though speaking to himself. Then directly to his companion,
+"Do you know, old friend, I'm seriously thinking of selling out all my
+interests and retiring. I've worked very hard--very hard. I'm getting
+tired of it all. Sometimes I feel that rest would be good. I have
+amassed a very large fortune, John--as you know."
+
+The confidences of the money-lender were so unusual that "Poker" John,
+in a dazed way, mildly wondered. The whisky had roused him a good deal
+now, and he felt that it was good to talk like this. He felt that the
+money-lender was a good fellow, and much better than he had thought. He
+even experienced compunction for the opinions which, at times, he had
+expressed of this old companion. Drink plays strange pranks with one's
+better judgment at times. Lablache noted the effect of his words
+carefully.
+
+"Yes," said John, "you have worked hard--we have both worked hard. Our
+lives have not been altogether without pleasure. The occasional game of
+cards we have had together has always helped to relieve monotony, eh,
+Lablache? Yes--yes. No one can say we have not earned rest. But
+there--yes, you have been more fortunate than I. I could not retire."
+
+Lablache raised his sparse eyebrows. Then he helped himself to some
+whisky and pushed the bottle over to the other. When John had again
+replenished his glass the money-lender solemnly raised his and waved it
+towards the gray-headed old man. John responded unsteadily.
+
+"How!"
+
+"How!" replied the rancher.
+
+Both men drank the old Indian toast. Simple honesty was in one heart,
+while duplicity and low cunning filled the other.
+
+"You could not retire?" said Lablache, when they had set their empty
+glasses upon the desk.
+
+"No--no," answered the other, shaking his head with ludicrous
+mournfulness, "not retire; I have responsibilities--debts. You should
+know. I must pay them off. I must leave Jacky provided for."
+
+"Yes, of course. You must pay them off. Jacky should be your first
+consideration."
+
+Lablache pursed his sensual lips. His expression was one of deep
+concern. Then he apparently fell into a reverie, during which John was
+wondering how best to propose the longed-for game of cards. The other
+roused himself before the desired means suggested itself to the old
+gambler. And his efforts were cut short abruptly.
+
+"Jacky ought to marry," Lablache said without preamble. "One never knows
+what may happen. A good husband--a man with money and business capacity,
+would be a great help to you, and would assure her future."
+
+Lablache had touched upon the one strong point which remained in John
+Allandale's character. His love for Jacky rivaled his passion for poker,
+and in its pure honesty was perhaps nearly as strong as that feverish
+zest. The gambler suddenly became electrified into a different being.
+The signs of decay--the atmosphere of drink, as it were, fell from him
+in the flashing of a second, and the old vigorous rancher, like the last
+dying flame of a fire, shot up into being.
+
+"Jacky shall marry when she chooses, and whatever man she prefers. I
+will never profit by that dear child's matrimonial affairs," he said
+simply.
+
+Lablache bit his lips. He had been slightly premature. He acquiesced
+with a heavy nod of the head and poured himself out some more whisky.
+The example was natural and his companion followed it.
+
+"You are quite right, John. I merely spoke from a worldly point of
+view. But your decision affects me closely."
+
+The other looked curiously at the money-lender, who thus found himself
+forced to proceed. Hitherto he had chosen his own gait. Now he felt
+himself being drawn. The process was new to him, but it suited his
+purpose.
+
+"How?"
+
+Lablache sighed. It was like the breathing of an adipose pig.
+
+"I have known that niece of yours, John, ever since she came into this
+world. I have watched her grow. I understand her nature as well as you
+do yourself. She is a clever, bright, winsome girl. But she needs the
+guiding hand of a good husband."
+
+"Just so. You are right. I am too old to take proper care of her. When
+she chooses she shall marry."
+
+John's tone was decisive. His words were non-committing and open to no
+argument. Lablache went on.
+
+"Supposing now a rich man, a very rich man, proposed marriage for her.
+Presuming he was a man against whom there was no doubtful record--who,
+from a worldly point of view, there could be no objection to--should you
+object to him as a husband for Jacky?"
+
+The rancher was still unsuspecting.
+
+"What I have stated should answer your question. If Jacky were willing I
+should have no objection."
+
+"Supposing," the money-lender went on, "she were unwilling, but was
+content to abide by your decision. What then?"
+
+There was a passing gleam of angry protest in the rancher's eyes as he
+answered.
+
+"What I have said still holds good," he retorted a little hotly. "I will
+not influence the child."
+
+"I am sorry. I wish to marry your girl."
+
+There was an impressive silence after this announcement. "Poker" John
+stared in blank wonderment at his companion. The expectation of such a
+contingency could not have been farther from his thought. Lablache--to
+many his niece--it was preposterous--ludicrous. He would not take it
+seriously--he could not. It was a joke--and not a nice one.
+
+He laughed--and in his laugh there was a ring of anger.
+
+"Of course you are joking, Lablache," he said at last. "Why, man, you
+are old enough to be the girl's father."
+
+"I was never more serious in my life. And as for age," with a shrug, "at
+least you will admit my intellect is unimpaired. Her interests will be
+in safe keeping."
+
+Having recovered from his surprise the old man solemnly shook his head.
+Some inner feeling made him shrink from thoughts of Lablache as a
+husband for his girl. Besides, he had no intention of retreating from
+the stand he had taken.
+
+"As far as I am concerned the matter is quite impossible. If Jacky comes
+to me with a request for sanction of her marriage to you, she shall have
+it. But I will express no wish upon the matter. No, Lablache, I never
+thought you contemplated such a thing. You must go to her. I will not
+interfere. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" and the old man laughed again nervously.
+
+Lablache remained perfectly calm. He had expected this result; although
+he had hoped that it might have been otherwise. Now he felt that he had
+paved the way to methods much dearer to his heart. This refusal of
+John's he intended to turn to account. He would force an acceptance from
+Jacky, and induce her uncle, by certain means, to give his consent.
+
+The money-lender remained silent while he refilled his pipe. "Poker"
+John seized the opportunity.
+
+"Come, Lablache," he said jocosely, "let us forget this little matter.
+Have a drink of your own whisky--I'll join you--and let us go down to
+the saloon for a gentle flutter."
+
+He helped himself to the spirit and poured out a glass for his
+companion. They silently drank, and then Lablache coughed, spat and lit
+his pipe. He fumbled his hat on to his head and moved to the door.
+
+"Come on, then," he said gutturally. And John Allandale followed him
+out.
+
+The two days before the half-breed pusky passed quickly enough for some
+of those who are interested, and dragged their weary lengths all too
+slowly for others. At last, however, in due course the day dawned, and
+with it hopes and fears matured in the hearts of not a few of the
+denizens of Foss River and the surrounding neighborhood.
+
+To all appearance the most unconcerned man was the Hon. Bunning-Ford,
+who still moved about the settlement in his cheery, _débonnaire_
+fashion, ever gentlemanly and always indolent. He had taken up his
+residence in one of the many disused shacks which dotted round the
+market-place, and there, apparently, sought to beguile the hours and eke
+out the few remaining dollars which were his. For Lablache, in his
+sweeping process, had still been forced to hand over some money, over
+and above his due, as a result of the sale of the young rancher's
+property. The trifling amount, however, was less than enough to keep
+body and soul together for six months.
+
+Lablache, too, staunch to his opinions, did not trouble himself in the
+least. For the rest, all who knew of the meditated _coup_ of Horrocks
+were agitated to a degree. All hoped for success, but all agreed in a
+feeling of pessimism which was more or less the outcome of previous
+experiences of Retief. Did not they know, only too well, of the traps
+which had been laid and which had failed to ensnare the daring desperado
+in days gone by? Horrocks they fondly believed to be a very smart man,
+but had not some of the best in the Canadian police been sent before to
+bring to justice this scourge of the district?
+
+Amongst those who shared these pessimistic views Mrs. Abbot was one of
+the most skeptical. She had learnt all the details of the intended
+arrest in the way she learned everything that was going on. A few
+judicious questions to the doctor and careful observations never left
+her long in the dark. She had a natural gift for absorbing information.
+She was a sort of social amalgam which never failed to glean the golden
+particles of news which remained after the "panning up" of daily events
+in Foss River. Nothing ever escaped this dear old soul, from the details
+of a political crisis in a distant part of the continent down to the
+number of drinks absorbed by some worthless half-breed in "old man"
+Smith's saloon. She had one of those keen, active brains which refuses
+to become dull and torpid in an atmosphere of humdrum monotony. Luckily
+her nature never allowed her to become a mischievous busybody. She was
+too kindly for that--too clever, tactful.
+
+After duly weighing the point at issue she found Horrocks's plans
+wanting, hence her unbelief, but, at the same time, her old heart
+palpitated with nervous excitement as might the heart of any younger and
+more hopeful of those in the know.
+
+As for the Allandales, it would be hard to say what they thought. Jacky
+went about her duties with a placidity that was almost worthy of the
+great money-lender himself. She showed no outward sign, and very little
+interest. Her thoughts she kept severely to herself. But she had
+thoughts on the subject, thoughts which teemed through her brain night
+and day. She was in reality aglow with excitement, but the Breed nature
+in her allowed no sign of emotion to appear. "Poker" John was beyond a
+keen interest. Whisky and cards had done for him what morphine and opium
+does for the drug fiend. He had no thoughts beyond them. In lucid
+intervals, as it were, he thought, perhaps, as well as his poor dulled
+brain would permit him, but the result of his mental effort would
+scarcely be worth recording.
+
+And so the time drew near.
+
+Horrocks, since his difference of opinion with Lablache, had made the
+ranch his headquarters, leaving the money-lender as much as possible out
+of his consultations. He had been heartily welcomed by old John and his
+niece, the latter in particular being very gracious to him. Horrocks
+was not a lady's man, but he appreciated comfort when he could get it,
+and Jacky spared no trouble to make him comfortable now. Had he known
+the smiling thought behind her beautiful face his appreciation might
+have lessened.
+
+As the summer day drew to a close signs of coming events began to show
+themselves. First of all Aunt Margaret made her appearance at the
+Allandales' house. She was hot and excited. She had come up for a
+gossip, she said, and promptly sat down with no intention of moving
+until she had heard all she wanted to know. Then came "Lord" Bill,
+cheerily monosyllabic. He always considered that long speeches were a
+disgusting waste of time. Following closely upon his heels came the
+doctor and Pat Nabob, with another rancher from an outlying ranch. Quite
+why they had come up they would have hesitated to say. Possibly it was
+curiosity--possibly natural interest in affairs which nearly affected
+them. Horrocks, they knew, was at the ranch. Perhaps the magnetism which
+surrounds persons about to embark on hazardous undertakings had
+attracted them thither.
+
+As the hour for supper drew near the gathering in the sitting-room
+became considerable, and as each newcomer presented himself, Jacky, with
+thoughtful hospitality, caused another place to be set at her bountiful
+table. No one was ever allowed to pass a meal hour at the ranch without
+partaking of refreshment. It was one of the principal items provided for
+in the prairie creed, and the greatest insult to be offered at such time
+would have been to leave the house before the repast.
+
+At eight o'clock the girl announced the meal with characteristic
+heartiness.
+
+"Come right along and feed," she said. "Who knows what to-night may
+bring forth? I guess we can't do better than drink success to our
+friend, Sergeant Horrocks. Whatever the result of his work to-night we
+all allow his nerve's right. Say, good people, there's liquor on the
+table--and glasses; a bumper to Sergeant Horrocks."
+
+The wording of the girl's remarks was significant. Truly Horrocks might
+have been the leader of a forlorn hope. Many of those present certainly
+considered him to be such. However, they were none the less hearty in
+their toast, and Jacky and Bill were the two first to raise their
+glasses on high.
+
+The toast drunk, tongues were let loose and the supper began. Ten
+o'clock was the time at which Horrocks was to set out. Therefore there
+were two hours in which to make merry. Never was a merrier meal taken at
+the ranch. Spirits were at bursting point, due no doubt to the current
+of excitement which actuated each member of the gathering.
+
+Jacky was in the best of spirits, and even "Poker" John was enjoying one
+of his rare lucid intervals. "Lord" Bill sat between Jacky and Mrs.
+Abbot, and a more charming companion the old lady thought she had never
+met. It was Jacky who led the talk, Jacky who saw to every one's wants,
+Jacky whose spirits cheered everybody, by her light badinage, into, even
+against their better judgment, a feeling of optimism. Even Horrocks felt
+the influence of her bright, winsome cheeriness.
+
+"Capture this colored scoundrel, Sergeant Horrocks," the girl exclaimed,
+with a laughing glance, as she helped him to a goodly portion of baked
+Jack-rabbit, "and we'll present you with the freedom of the settlement,
+in an illuminated address inclosed in a golden casket. That's the mode,
+I take it, in civilized countries, and I guess we are civilized
+hereabout, some. Say, Bill, I opine you're the latest thing from England
+here to-night. What does 'freedom' mean?"
+
+Bill looked dubious. Everybody waited for his answer.
+
+"Freedom--um. Yes, of course--freedom. Why, freedom means banquets. You
+know--turtle soup--bile--indigestion. Best champagne in the mayor's
+cellar. Police can't run you in if you get drunk. All that sort of
+thing, don'tcherknow."
+
+"An excellent definition," laughed the doctor.
+
+"I wish somebody would present me with 'freedom,'" said Nabob,
+plaintively.
+
+"It's a good thing we don't go in for that sort of thing extensively in
+Canada," put in Horrocks, as the representative of the law. "The
+peaceful pastime of the police would soon be taken from them. Why, the
+handling of 'drunks' is our only recreation."
+
+"That, and for some of them the process of lowering four per cent.
+beer," added the doctor, quietly.
+
+Another laugh followed the doctor's sally.
+
+When the mirth had subsided Aunt Margaret shook her head. This levity
+rather got on her nerves. This Retief business, as she understood it,
+was a very serious affair, especially for Sergeant Horrocks. She was
+keenly anxious to hear the details of his preparations. She knew most of
+them, but she liked her information first hand. With this object in view
+she suggested, rather than asked, what she wanted to know.
+
+"But I don't quite understand. I take it you are going single-handed
+into the half-breed camp, where you expect to find this Retief, Sergeant
+Horrocks?"
+
+Horrocks's face was serious as he looked over at the old lady. There was
+no laughter in his black, flashing eyes. He was not a man given to
+suavity. His business effectually crushed any approach to that sort of
+thing. He was naturally a stern man, too.
+
+"I am not quite mad, madam," he said curtly. "I set some value upon my
+life."
+
+This crushing rejoinder had no effect upon Aunt Margaret. She still
+persisted.
+
+"Then, of course, you take your men with you. Four, you have, and smart
+they look, too. I like to see well-set-up men. I trust you will succeed.
+They--I mean the Breeds--are a dangerous people."
+
+"Not so dangerous as they're reckoned, I guess," said Horrocks,
+disdainfully. "I don't anticipate much trouble."
+
+"I hope it will turn out as you think," replied the old lady,
+doubtfully.
+
+Horrocks shrugged his shoulders; he was not to be drawn.
+
+There was a moment's silence after this, which was at length broken by
+"Poker" John.
+
+"Of course, Horrocks," he said, "we shall carry out your instructions to
+the letter. At three in the morning, failing your return or news of you,
+I set out with my ranch hands to find you. And woe betide those black
+devils if you have come to harm. By the way, what about your men?"
+
+"They assemble here at ten. We leave our horses at Lablache's stables.
+We are going to walk to the settlement."
+
+"I think you are wise," said the doctor.
+
+"Guess horses would be an encumbrance," said Jacky.
+
+"An excellent mark for a Breed's gun," added Bill. "Seems to me you'll
+succeed," he went on politely. His eagle face was calmly sincere. The
+gray eyes looked steadily into those of the officer's. Jacky was
+watching her lover keenly. The faintest suspicion of a smile was in her
+eyes.
+
+"I should like to be there," she said simply, when Bill had finished.
+"It's mean bad luck being a girl. Say, d'you think I'd be in the way,
+sergeant?"
+
+Horrocks looked over at her, and in his gaze was a look of admiration.
+In the way he knew she would be, but he could not tell her so. Such
+spirit appealed to him.
+
+"There would be much danger for you, Miss Jacky," he said. "My hands
+would be full, I could not look after you, and besides--" He broke off
+at the recollection of the old stories about this girl. Suddenly he
+wondered if he had been indiscreet. What if the stories were true. He
+ran cold at the thought. These people knew his plans. Then he looked
+into the girl's beautiful face. No, it must be false. She could have
+nothing in common with the rascally Breeds.
+
+"And besides--what?" Jacky said, smiling over at the policeman.
+
+Horrocks shrugged.
+
+"When Breeds are drunk they are not responsible."
+
+"That settles it," the girl's uncle said, with a forced laugh. He did
+not like Jacky's tone. Knowing her, he feared she intended to be there
+to see the arrest.
+
+Her uncle's laugh nettled the girl a little, and with a slight elevation
+of her head, she said,--
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Further talk now became impossible, for, at that moment the troopers
+arrived. Horrocks discovered that it was nearly ten o'clock. The moment
+for the start had come, and, with one accord, everybody rose from the
+table. In the bustle and handshaking of departure Jacky slipped away.
+When, she returned the doctor and Mrs. Abbot were in the hall alone with
+"Lord" Bill. The latter was just leaving. "Poker" John was on the
+veranda seeing Horrocks off.
+
+As Jacky came downstairs Aunt Margaret's eyes fell upon the ominous
+holster and cartridge belt which circled the girl's hips. She was
+dressed for riding. There could be no mistaking the determined set of
+her face.
+
+"Jacky, my dear," said the old lady in dismay. "What are you doing?
+Where are you going?"
+
+"Guess I'm going to see the fun--I've a notion there'll be some."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Don't 'but' me, Aunt Margaret, I take it you aren't deaf."
+
+The old lady relapsed into dignified silence, but there was much concern
+and a little understanding in her eyes as she watched the girl pass out
+to the corrals.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE PUSKY
+
+
+A pusky is a half-breed dance. That is the literal meaning of the word.
+The practical translation, however, is often different. In reality it is
+a debauch--a frightful orgie, when all the lower animal instincts--and
+they are many and strong in the half-breed--are given full sway. When
+drunkenness and bestial passions rule the actions of these worse than
+savages. When murder and crimes of all sorts are committed without
+scruple, without even thought. Latterly things have changed, and these
+orgies are less frequent among the Breeds, or, at least, conducted with
+more regard for decorum. But we are talking of some years ago, at a time
+when the Breeds had to learn the meaning of civilization--before good
+order and government were thoroughly established in this great Western
+country; in the days when Indian "Sun" dances, and other barbarous
+functions were held. In the days of the Red River Jig, when a good
+fiddler of the same was held to be a man of importance; when the method
+of tuning the fiddle to the necessary pitch for the playing of that
+curious dance was a secret known only to a privileged few. Some might
+call them the "good" old days. "Bad" is the adjective which best
+describes that period.
+
+When Horrocks and his men set out for the Breed camp they had discarded
+their police clothes and were clad in the uncouth garb of the
+half-breeds. They had even gone to the length of staining their faces to
+the coppery hue of the Indians. They were a ragged party, these hardy
+riders of the plains, as they embarked on their meditated capture of the
+desperate raider. All of the five were "tough" men, who regarded their
+own lives lightly enough--men who had seen many stirring times, and
+whose hairbreadth escapes from "tight" corners would have formed a
+lengthy narrative in themselves. They were going to they knew not what
+now, but they did not shrink from the undertaking. Their leader was a
+man whose daring often outweighed his caution, but, as they well knew,
+he was endowed with a reckless man's luck, and they would sooner follow
+such as he--for they were sure of a busy time--than work with one of his
+more prudent colleagues.
+
+At the half-breed camp was considerable bustle and excitement. The
+activity of the Breed is not proverbial; they are at best a lazy lot,
+but now men and women came and went bristling with energy to their
+finger tips. Preparations were nearing completion. The chief item of
+importance was the whisky supply, and this the treasurer, Baptiste, had
+made his personal care. A barrel of the vilest "rot-gut" that was ever
+smuggled into prohibition territory had been procured and carefully
+secreted. This formed the chief refreshment, and, doubtless, the
+"bluestone" with which its fiery contents were strengthened, would work
+the passionate natures, on which it was to play, up to the proper
+crime-committing pitch.
+
+The orgie was to be held in a barn of considerable dimensions. It was a
+ramshackle affair, reeking of old age and horses. The roof was decidedly
+porous in places, being so lame and disjointed that the starry
+resplendence of the summer sky was plainly visible from beneath it.
+
+This, however, was a trifling matter, and of much less consequence than
+the question of space. What few horse stalls had once occupied the
+building had been removed, and the mangers alone remained, with the odor
+of horse, to remind the guests of the original purpose of their
+ballroom. A careful manipulation of dingy Turkey red, and material which
+had once been white, struggled vainly to hide these mangers from view,
+while coarse, rough boards which had at one time floored some of the
+stalls, served to cover in the tops and convert them into seats. The
+result was a triumph of characteristic ingenuity. The barn was converted
+into a place of the necessary requirements, but rendered hideous in the
+process.
+
+Next came the disguising of the rafters and "collar-ties" of the
+building. This was a process which lent itself to the curiously warped
+artistic sense of the benighted people. Print--I mean cotton rags--was
+the chief idea of decoration. They understood these stuffs. They were
+cheap--or, at least, as cheap as anything sold at Lablache's store.
+Besides, print decorated the persons of the buxom Breed women, therefore
+what more appropriate than such stuff to cover the nakedness of the
+building. Festoons of print, flags of print, rosettes of print: these
+did duty for the occasion. The staring patterns gleamed on every beam,
+or hung in bald draping almost down to the height of an ordinary man's
+head. The effect was strangely reminiscent of a second-hand clothes
+shop, and helped to foster the nauseating scent of the place.
+
+A row of reeking oil lamps, swinging in crazy wire swings, were
+suspended down the center from the moldering beams, and in the diamond
+window spaces were set a number of black bottles, the neck of each being
+stuffed with a tallow candle.
+
+One corner of the room was set apart for the fiddler, and here a daïs of
+rough boarding, also draped in print stuff, was erected to meet the
+requirements of that honored personage. Such was the uncouth place where
+the Breeds proposed to hold their orgie. And of its class it was an
+excellent example.
+
+At ten o'clock the barn was lit up, and strangely bizarre was the
+result. The draught through the broken windows set the candles
+a-guttering, until rivers of yellow fat decorated the black bottles in
+which they were set. The stench from these, and from the badly-trimmed
+coal oil lamps down the center, blended disgustingly with the native
+odor of the place, until the atmosphere became heavy, pungent, revolting
+in the nostrils, and breathing became a labor after the sweet fresh air
+of the prairie outside.
+
+Soon after this the dancers began to arrive. They came in their strange
+deckings of glaring colors, and many and varied were the types which
+soon filled the room. There were old men and there were young men. There
+were girls in their early teens, and toothless hags, decrepit and
+faltering. Faces which, in wild loveliness, might have vied with the
+white beauty of the daughters of the East. Faces seared and crumpled
+with weight of years and nights of debauchery. Men were there of superb
+physique, whilst others crouched huddled, with shuffling gait towards
+the manger seats, to seek rest for their rotting bones, and ease for
+their cramping muscles.
+
+Many of the faces were marred by disease; small-pox was a prevalent
+scourge amongst these people. The effect of the pure air of the prairie
+was lost upon the germ-laden atmosphere which surrounded these dreadful
+camps. Crime, too, was stamped on many of the faces of those gathering
+in the reeking ballroom. The small bullet head with low, receding
+forehead; the square set jaws and sagging lips; the shifty, twinkling
+little eyes, narrow-set and of jetty hue; such faces were plentiful. Nor
+were these features confined to the male sex alone. Truly it was a
+motley gathering, and not pleasant to look upon.
+
+All, as they came, were merry with anticipation; even the hags and the
+rheumatism-ridden male fossils croaked out their quips and coarse
+pleasantries to each other with gleeful unctuousness, inspired by
+thoughts of the generous contents of the secreted barrel. Their watery
+eyes watered the more, as, on entering the room, they glanced round
+seeking to discover the fiery store of liquor, which they hoped to help
+to dispose of. It was a loathsome sight to behold these miserable
+wretches gathering together with no thought in their beast-like brains
+but of the ample food and drink which they intended should fall to their
+share. Crabbed old age seeking rejuvenation in gut-burning spirit.
+
+The room quickly filled, and the chattering of many and strange tongues
+lent an apish tone to the function. The French half-breed predominated,
+and these spoke their bastard lingo with that rapidity and bristling
+elevation of tone which characterizes their Gallic relatives. It seemed
+as though each were trying to talk his neighbor down, and the process
+entailed excited shriekings which made the old barn ring again.
+
+Baptiste, with a perfect understanding of the people, served out the
+spirit in pannikins with a lavish hand. It was as well to inspire these
+folk with the potent liquor from the start, that their energies might be
+fully aroused for the dance.
+
+When all, men and women alike, had partaken of an "eye-opener," Baptiste
+gave the signal, and the fiddler struck up his plaintive wail. The reedy
+strings of his instrument shrieked out the long-drawn measure of a
+miserable waltz, the company paired off, and the dance began.
+
+Whatever else may be the failings of the Breeds they can dance. Dancing
+is as much a part of their nature as is the turning of a dog twice
+before he lies down, a feature of the canine race. Those who were
+physically incapable of dancing lined the walls and adorned the manger
+seats. For the rest, they occupied the sanded floor, and danced until
+the dust clouded the air and added to the choking foulness of the
+atmosphere.
+
+The shrieking fiddle lured this savage people, and its dreadful tone was
+music of the sweetest to their listening ears. This was a people who
+would dance. They would dance so long as they could stand.
+
+More drink followed the first dance. Baptiste had not yet recognized the
+pitch of enthusiasm which must promise a successful evening. The
+quantities of liquor thus devoured were appalling. The zest increased.
+The faces wearing an habitual frown displayed a budding smile. The
+natural smiler grinned broadly. All warmed to the evening's amusement.
+
+Now came the festive barn dance. The moccasined feet pounded the filthy
+floor, and the dust gathered thick round the gums of the hard-breathing
+dancers. The noise of coarse laughter and ribald shoutings increased.
+All were pleased with themselves, but more pleased still with the fiery
+liquid served out by Baptiste. The scene grew more wild as time crept
+on, and the effect of the liquor made itself apparent. The fiddler
+labored cruelly at his wretched instrument. His task was no light one,
+but he spared himself no pains. His measure must be even, his tone
+almost unending to satisfy his countrymen. He understood them, as did
+Baptiste. To fail in his work would mean angry protests from those he
+served, and angry protests amongst the Breeds generally took the form of
+a shower of leaden bullets. So he scraped away with aching limbs, and
+with heavy foot pounding out the time upon the crazy daïs. He must play
+until long after daylight, until his fingers cramped, and his old eyes
+would remain open no longer.
+
+Peter Retief had not as yet put in an appearance. Horrocks was at his
+post viewing the scene from outside one of the broken windows. His men
+were hard by, concealed at certain points in the shelter of some
+straggling bush which surrounded the stable. Horrocks, with
+characteristic energy and disregard for danger, had set himself the task
+of spying out the land. He had a waiting game to play, but the result he
+hoped would justify his action.
+
+The scene he beheld was not new to him, his duties so often carried him
+within the precincts of a half-breed camp. No one knew the Breeds better
+than did this police officer.
+
+Time passed. Again and again the fiddle ceased its ear-maddening screams
+as refreshment was partaken of by the dancers. Wilder and wilder grew
+the scene as the potent liquor took hold of its victims. They danced
+with more and more reckless abandon as each time they returned to step
+it to the fiddler's patient measure. Midnight approached and still no
+sign of Retief. Horrocks grew restless and impatient.
+
+Once the fiddle ceased, and the officer watching saw all eyes turn to
+the principal entrance to the barn. His heart leapt in anticipation as
+he gazed in the direction. Surely this sudden cessation could only
+herald the coming of Retief.
+
+He saw the door open as he craned forward to look. For the moment he
+could not see who entered; a crowd obscured his view. He heard a cheer
+and a clapping of hands, and he rejoiced. Then the crowd parted and he
+saw the slim figure of a girl pass down the center of the reeking den.
+She was clad in buckskin shirt and dungaree skirt. At the sight he
+muttered a curse. The newcomer was Jacky Allandale.
+
+He watched her closely as she moved amongst her uncouth surroundings.
+Her beautiful face and graceful figure was like to an oasis of stately
+flora in a desert of trailing, vicious brambles, and he marveled at the
+familiarity with which she came among these people. Moreover, he became
+beset with misgivings as he remembered the old stories which linked this
+girl's name with that of Retief. He struggled to fathom the meaning of
+what he saw, but the real significance of her coming escaped him.
+
+The Breeds once more returned to their dancing, and all went on as
+before. Horrocks followed Jacky's movements with his eyes. He saw her
+standing beside a toothless old woman, who wagged her cunning, aged head
+as she talked in answer to the girl's questions. Jacky seemed to be
+looking and inquiring for some one, and the officer wondered if the
+object of her solicitude was Retief. He would have been surprised had he
+known that she was inquiring and looking for himself. Presently she
+seated herself and appeared to be absorbed in the dance.
+
+The drink was flowing freely now, and a constant demand was being made
+upon Baptiste. Whilst the fiery spirit scorched down the hardened
+throats, strange, weird groans came from the fiddler's woeful
+instrument. The old man was tuning it down for the plaintive
+requirements of the Red River Jig.
+
+The dance of the evening was about to begin. Men and women primed
+themselves for the effort. Each was eager to outdo his or her neighbor
+in variety of steps and power of endurance. All were prepared to do or
+die. The mad jig was a national contest, and the one who lasted the
+longest would be held the champion dancer of the district--a coveted
+distinction amongst this strange people.
+
+At last the music began again, and now the familiar "Ragtime" beat
+fascinatingly upon the air. Those who lined the walls took up the
+measure, and, with foot and clapping hands, marked the time for the
+dancers. Those who competed leapt to the fray, and soon the reeking room
+became stifling with dust.
+
+The fiddler's time, slow at the commencement, soon grew faster, and the
+dancers shook their limbs in delighted anticipation. Faster and faster
+they shuffled and jigged, now opposite to partners, now round each
+other, now passing from one partner to another, now alone, for the
+admiration of the onlookers. Nor was there pause or hesitation. An
+instant's pause meant dropping out of that mad and old time "hoe-down,"
+and each coveted the distinction of champion. Faster and more wildly
+they footed it, and soon the speed caused some of the less agile to drop
+out. It was a giddy sight to watch, and the strange clapping of the
+spectators was not the least curious feature of the scene.
+
+The crowd of dancers grew thinner as the fiddler, with a marvelous
+display of latent energy, kept ever-increasing his speed.
+
+In spite of himself Horrocks became fascinated. There was something so
+barbarous--heathenish--in what he beheld. The minutes flew by, and the
+dance was rapidly nearing its height. More couples fell out, dead beat
+and gasping, but still there remained a number who would fight it out to
+the bitter end. The streaming faces and gaping lips of those yet
+remaining told of the dreadful strain. Another couple dropped out, the
+woman actually falling with exhaustion. She was dragged aside and left
+unnoticed in the wild excitement. Now were only three pairs left in the
+center of the floor.
+
+The police-officer found himself speculating as to which would be the
+winner of the contest.
+
+"That brown-faced wench, with the flaming red dress, 'll do 'em all," he
+said to himself. The woman he was watching had a young Breed of great
+agility for her _vis-à-vis_. "She or her partner 'll do it," he went on,
+almost audibly. "Good," he was becoming enthusiastic, "there's another
+couple done," as two more suddenly departed, and flung themselves on the
+ground exhausted. "Yes, they'll do it--crums, but there goes her
+partner! Keep it up, girl--keep it up. The others won't be long. Stay
+with--"
+
+He broke off in alarm as he felt his arm suddenly clutched from behind.
+Simultaneously he felt heavy breathing blowing upon his cheek. Quick as
+a flash his revolver was whipped out and he swung round.
+
+"Easy, sergeant," said the voice of one of his troopers. "For Gawd's
+sake don't shoot. Say, Retief's down at the settlement. A messenger's
+jest come up to say he's 'hustled' all our horses from Lablache's
+stable, and the old man himself's in trouble. Come over to that bluff
+yonder, the messenger's there. He's one of Lablache's clerks."
+
+The police-officer was dumbfounded, and permitted himself to be
+conducted to the bluff without a word. He was wondering if he were
+dreaming, so sudden and unexpected was the announcement of the disaster.
+
+When he halted at the bluff, the clerk was still discussing the affair
+with one of the troopers. As yet the other two were in their places of
+concealment, and were in ignorance of what had happened.
+
+"It's dead right," the clerk said, in answer to Horrocks's sharply-put
+inquiry. "I'd been in bed sometime when I was awakened by a terrible
+racket going on in the office. It's just under the room I sleep in.
+Well, I hopped out of bed and slipped on some clothes, and went
+downstairs, thinking the governor had been taken with a fit or
+something. When I got down the office was in darkness, and quiet as
+death. I went cautiously to work, for I was a bit scared. Striking a
+light I made my way in, expecting to find the governor laid out, but,
+instead, I found the furniture all chucked about and the room empty. It
+wasn't two shakes before I lit upon this sheet of paper. It was lying on
+the desk. The governor's writing is unmistakable. You can see for
+yourself; here it is--"
+
+Horrocks took the sheet, and, by the light of a match read the scrawl
+upon it. The writing had evidently been done in haste, but its meaning
+was clear.
+
+"Retief is here," it ran. "I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.
+LABLACHE."
+
+After reading, Horrocks turned to the clerk, who immediately went on
+with his story.
+
+"Well, I just bolted out to the stables intending to take a horse and go
+over to 'Poker' John's. But when I got there I found the doors open, an'
+every blessed horse gone. Yes, your horses as well--and the governor's
+buckboard too. I jest had a look round, saw that the team harness had
+gone with the rest, then I ran as hard as I could pelt to the Foss River
+Ranch. I found old John up, but he'd been drinking, so, after a bit of
+talk, I learned from him where you were and came right along. That's
+all, sergeant, and bad enough it is too. I'm afraid they'll string the
+governor up. He ain't too popular, you know."
+
+The clerk finished up his breathless narrative in a way that left no
+doubt in the mind of his hearers as to his sincerity. He was trembling
+with nervous excitement still. And even in the starlight the look upon
+his face spoke of real concern for his master.
+
+For some seconds the officer did not reply. He was thinking rapidly. To
+say that he was chagrined would hardly convey his feelings. He had been
+done--outwitted--and he knew it. Done--like the veriest tenderfoot. He,
+an officer of wide experience and of considerable reputation. And worst
+of all he remembered Lablache's warning. He, the money-lender, had been
+more far-seeing--had understood something of the trap which he,
+Horrocks, had plunged headlong into. The thought was as worm-wood to the
+prairie man, and helped to cloud his judgment as he now sought for the
+best course to adopt. He saw now with bitter, mental self-reviling, how
+the story that Gautier had told him--and for which he had paid--and
+which had been corroborated by the conversation he had heard in the
+camp, had been carefully prepared by the wily Retief; and how he, like a
+hungry, simple fish, had deliberately risen and devoured the bait. He
+was maddened by the thought, too, that the money-lender had been right
+and he wrong, and took but slight solace from the fact that the chief
+disaster had overtaken that great man.
+
+However, it was plain that something must be done at once to assist
+Lablache, and he cast about in his mind for the best means to secure the
+money-lender's release. In his dilemma a recollection came to him of the
+presence of Jacky Allandale in the barn, and a feeling nearly akin to
+revenge came to him. He felt that in some way this girl was connected
+with, and knew of, the doings of Retief.
+
+With a hurried order to remain where they were to his men he returned to
+his station at the window of the barn. He looked in, searching for the
+familiar figure of the girl. Dancing had ceased, and the howling Breeds
+were drinking heavily. Jacky was no longer to be seen, and, with bitter
+disappointment, he turned again to rejoin his companions. There was
+nothing left to do but to hasten to the settlement and procure fresh
+horses.
+
+He had hardly turned from the window when several shots rang out on the
+night air. They came from the direction in which he was moving.
+Instantly he comprehended that an attack was being made upon his
+troopers. He drew his pistol and dashed forward at a run. Three paces
+sufficed to terminate his race. Silence had followed the firing of the
+shots he had heard. Suddenly his quick ears detected the hiss of a
+lariat whistling through the air. He spread out his arms to ward it off.
+He felt something fall upon them. He tried to throw it off, and, the
+next instant the rope jerked tight round his throat, and he was hurled,
+choking, backwards upon the ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR
+
+
+Lablache was alone in his office. He was more alone than he had ever
+been in his life; or, at least, he felt more alone--which amounted to
+much the same thing. Possibly, had he been questioned on the subject, he
+would have pooh-poohed the idea, but, nevertheless, in his secret heart
+he felt that, in spite of his vast wealth, he was a lonely man. He knew
+that he had not a single friend in Foss River; and in Calford, another
+center of his great wealth, things were no better. His methods of
+business, whilst they brought him many familiar acquaintances--a large
+circle of people who were willing to trade, repelled all approach to
+friendship. Besides, his personality was against him. His flinty
+disposition and unscrupulous love of power were all detrimental to human
+affection.
+
+As a rule, metaphorically speaking, he snapped his fingers at these
+things. Moreover, he was glad that such was the case; he could the more
+freely indulge his passion for grab. Hated, he could work out his
+peculiar schemes without qualms of conscience; loved, it would have been
+otherwise. Yes, Lablache preferred this social ostracism.
+
+But the great money-lender had his moments of weakness--moments when he
+rebelled against his solitary lot. He knew that his isolated position
+had been brought about by himself--fostered by himself, and he knew he
+preferred that it should be so. But, nevertheless, at times he felt very
+lonely, and in these moments of weakness he wondered if he obtained full
+consolation in his great wealth for his marooned position. Generally the
+result of these reflections brought him satisfaction. How? is a
+question. Possibly he forced himself, by that headstrong power with
+which he bent others who came into contact with him to his will, to such
+a conclusion. Lablache was certainly a triumph of relentless purpose
+over flesh and feelings.
+
+Lablache was nearly fifty, and had lived alone since he was in his
+teens. Now he pined as all who live a solitary life must some day pine,
+for a companion to share his loneliness. He craved not for the society
+of his own sex. With the instinct in us all he wanted a mate to share
+with him his golden nest. But this mass of iron nerve and obesity was
+not as other men. He did not weakly crave, and then, with his wealth,
+set out to secure a wife who could raise him in the social scale, or add
+to the bags which he had watched grow in bulk from flattened folds of
+sacking, to the distended proportions of miniature balloons. No, he
+desired a girl, the only relation of a man whom he had helped to ruin--a
+girl who could bring him no social distinction, and who could not add
+one penny piece to his already enormous wealth. Moreover, strangely
+enough, he had conceived for her a passion which was absolutely unholy
+in its intensity. It is needless, then, to add, when, speaking of such a
+man, that, willing or not, he intended that Jacky Allandale should be
+his.
+
+Thoughts of this wild, quarter-breed girl filled his brain as he sat
+solitary in his little office on the night of the pusky. He sat in his
+favorite chair, in his favorite position. He was lounging back with his
+slippered feet resting on the burnished steel foot-rests of the stove.
+There was no fire in the stove, of course, but from force of habit he
+gazed thoughtfully at the mica sides which surrounded the firebox.
+Probably in this position he had thought out some of his most dastardly
+financial schemes and therefore most suitable it seemed now as he
+calculated his chances of capturing the wild prairie girl for his mate.
+
+He had given up all thoughts of ever obtaining her willing consent, and,
+although his vanity had been hurt by her rejection of his advances,
+still he was not the man to be easily thwarted. His fertile brain had
+evolved a means by which to achieve his end, and, to his scheme-loving
+nature, the process was anything but distasteful. He had always, from
+the first moment he had decided to make Jacky Allandale his wife, been
+prepared for such a contingency as her refusal, and had never missed an
+opportunity of ensnaring her uncle in his financial toils. He had
+understood the old man's weakness, and, with satanic cunning, had set
+himself to the task of wholesale robbery, with crushing results to his
+victim. This had given him the necessary power to further prosecute his
+suit. As yet he had not displayed his hand. He felt that the time was
+barely ripe. Before putting the screw on the Allandales it had been his
+object to rid the place, and his path, of his only stumbling block. In
+this he had not quite succeeded as we have seen. He quite understood
+that the Hon. Bunning-Ford must be removed from Foss River first. Whilst
+he was on hand Jacky would be difficult to coerce. Instinctively he knew
+that "Lord" Bill was her lover, and, with him at hand to advise her,
+Jacky would hold out to the last. However, he believed that in the end
+he must conquer. Bunning-Ford's resources were very limited he knew, and
+soon his hated rival must leave the settlement and seek pastures new.
+Lablache was but a clever scheming mortal. He did not credit others with
+brains of equal caliber, much less cleverer and more resourceful than
+his own. It had been better for him had his own success in life been
+less assured, for then he would have been more doubtful of his own
+ability to do as he wished, and he would have given his adversaries
+credit for a cleverness which he now considered as only his.
+
+After some time spent in surveying and considering his plans his
+thoughts reverted to other matters. This was the night of the half-breed
+pusky. His great face contorted into a sarcastic smile as he thought of
+Sergeant Horrocks. He remembered with vivid acuteness every incident of
+his interview with the officer two nights ago. He bore the man no
+malice now for the contradiction of himself, for the reason that he was
+sure his own beliefs on the subject of Retief would be amply realized.
+His lashless eyes quivered as his thoughts invoked an inward mirth. No
+one realized more fully than did this man the duplicity and cunning of
+the Breed. He anticipated a great triumph over Horrocks the next time he
+saw him.
+
+As the time passed on he became more himself. His loneliness did not
+strike him so keenly. He felt that after all there was great
+satisfaction to be drawn from a watcher's observance of men. Isolated as
+he was he was enabled to look on men and things more critically than he
+otherwise would be.
+
+He reached over to his tobacco jar, which stood upon his desk, and
+leisurely proceeded to fill his pipe. It was rarely he indulged himself
+in an idle evening, but to-night he somehow felt that idleness would be
+good. He was beginning to feel the weight of his years.
+
+He lit his heavy briar and proceeded to envelop himself in a cloud of
+smoke. He gasped out a great sigh of satisfaction, and his leathery
+eyelids half closed. Presently a gentle tap came at the glass door,
+which partitioned off the office from the store. Lablache called out a
+guttural "Come in," at the same time glancing at the loud ticking
+"alarm" on the desk. He knew who his visitor was.
+
+One of the clerks opened the door.
+
+"It is past ten, sir, shall I close up?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, close up. Whose evening off is it?"
+
+"Rodgers, sir. He is still out. He'll be in before midnight, sir."
+
+"Ah, down at the saloon, I expect," said Lablache, drily. "Well, bolt
+the front door. Just leave it on the spring latch. I shall be up until
+he comes in. What are you two boys going to do?"
+
+"Going to bed, sir."
+
+"All right; good-night."
+
+"Good-night, sir."
+
+The door closed quietly after the clerk, and Lablache heard his two
+assistants close up the store and then go upstairs to their rooms. The
+money-lender was served well. His employees in the store had been with
+him for years. They were worked very hard and their pay was not great,
+but their money was sure, and their employment was all the year round.
+So many billets upon the prairie depended upon the seasons--opulence one
+month and idleness the next. On the ranches it was often worse. There is
+but little labor needed in the winter. And those who have the good
+fortune to be employed all the year round generally experience a
+reduction in wages at the end of the fall round-up, and find themselves
+doing the "chores" when winter comes on.
+
+After the departure of the clerk Lablache re-settled himself and went on
+smoking placidly. The minutes ticked slowly away. An occasional groan
+from the long-suffering basket chair, and the wreathing clouds of smoke
+were the only appreciable indication of life in that little room.
+By-and-by the great man reached a memorandum tablet from his desk and
+dotted down a few hurried figures. Then he breathed a great sigh, and
+his face wore a look of satisfaction. There could be no doubt as to the
+tenor of his thoughts. Money, money. It was as life to him.
+
+The distant rattle of the spring lock of the store front door being
+snapped-to disturbed the quiet of the office. Lablache heard the sound.
+Then followed the bolting of the door. The money-lender turned again to
+his figures. It was the return of Rodgers, he thought, which had
+disturbed him. He soon became buried in further calculations. While
+figuring he unconsciously listened for the sound of the clerk's
+footsteps on the stairs as he made his way up to his room. The sound did
+not come. The room was clouded with tobacco smoke, and still Lablache
+belched out fresh clouds to augment the reek of the atmosphere. Suddenly
+the glass door opened. The money-lender heard the handle move.
+
+"Eh, what is it, Rodgers?" he said, in a displeased tone. As he spoke
+he peered through the smoke.
+
+"What d'you want?" he exclaimed angrily. Then he rubbed his eyes and
+craned forward only to fall back again with a muttered curse. He had
+stared into the muzzle of a heavy six-shooter.
+
+He moved his hand as though to throw his memorandum pad on the desk, but
+instantly a stern voice ordered him to desist and the threatening
+revolver came closer.
+
+"Jest stay right thar, pard." The words were spoken in an exaggerated
+Western drawl. "My barker's mighty light in the trigger. I guess it
+don't take a hundred-weight to loose it. And I don't cotton to mucking
+up this floor with yer vitals."
+
+Lablache remained still. He saw before him the tall thin figure of a
+half-breed. He had black lank hair which hung loosely down almost on to
+his shoulders. His face was the color of mud, and he was possessed of a
+pair of keen gray eyes and a thin-hooked nose. His face wore a lofty
+look of command, and was stamped by an expression of the unmost
+resolution. He spoke easily and showed not the smallest haste.
+
+"Guess we ain't met before, boss--not familiar-like, leastways. My
+name's Retief--Peter Retief, an' I take it yours is Lablache. Now I've
+jest come right along to do biz with you--how does that fit your
+bowels?"
+
+The compelling ring of metal faced the astonished money-lender. For the
+moment he remained speechless.
+
+"Wal?" drawled the other, with elaborate significance.
+
+Lablache struggled for words. His astonishment--dismay made the effort a
+difficult one.
+
+"You've got the drop on me you--you damned scoundrel," he at last burst
+out, his face for the moment purpling with rage. "I'm forced to listen
+to you now," he went on more gutturally, as the paroxysm having found
+vent began to pass, "but watch yourself that you make no bad reckoning,
+or you'll regret this business until the rope's round your neck. You'll
+get nothing out of me--but what you take. Now then, be sharp. What are
+you going to do?"
+
+The half-breed grinned.
+
+"You're mighty raw oh the hide jest now, I guess. But see hyar, my
+reckonin's are nigh as slick as yours. An' jest slant yer tongue some.
+'Damned scoundrel' sliden' from yer flannel face is like a coyote
+roundin' on a timber wolf, an' a coyote ain't as low down as a skunk. I
+opine I want a deal from you," Retief went on, with a hollow laugh, "and
+wot I want I mostly git, in these parts."
+
+Lablache was no coward. And even now he had not the smallest fear for
+his life. But the thought of being bluffed by the very man he was
+willing to pay so much for the capture of riled him almost beyond
+endurance. The Breed noted the effect of his words and pushed his pistol
+almost to within arm's reach of the money-lender's face.
+
+The half-breed's face suddenly became stem.
+
+"That's a dandy ranch of yours down south. Me an' my pards 'ave taken a
+notion to it. Say, you're comin' right along with us. Savee? Guess we'll
+show you the slickest round up this side o' the border. Now jest sit
+right thar while I let my mates in."
+
+Retief took no chances. Lablache, under pistol compulsion, was forced to
+remain motionless in his chair. The swarthy Breed backed cautiously to
+the door until his hand rested upon the spring catch. This, with deft
+fingers, he turned and then forced back, and the next moment he was
+joined by two companions as dark as himself and likewise dressed in the
+picturesque garb of the prairie "hustler." The money-lender, in spite of
+his predicament, was keenly alert, and lost no detail of the new-comers'
+appearance. He took a careful mental photograph of each of the men,
+trusting that he might find the same useful in the future. He wondered
+what the next move would be. He eyed the Breed's pistol furtively, and
+thought of his own weapon lying on his desk at the corner farthest from
+him. He knew there was no possible chance of reaching it. The slightest
+unbidden move on his part would mean instant death. He understood, only
+too well, how lightly human, life was held by these people. Implicit
+obedience alone could save him. In those few thrilling moments he had
+still time to realize the clever way in which both he and Horrocks had
+been duped. He had never for a moment believed in Gautier's story, but
+had still less dreamed of such a daring outrage as was now being
+perpetrated. He had not long to wait for developments. Directly the two
+men were inside, and the door was again closed, Retief pointed to the
+money-lender.
+
+"Hustle, boys--the rope. Lash his feet."
+
+One of the men produced an old lariat In a trice the great man's feet
+were fast.
+
+"His hands?" said one of the men.
+
+"Guess not. He's goin' to write, some."
+
+Lablache instantly thought of his cheque-book. But Retief had no fancy
+for what he considered was useless paper.
+
+The hustler stepped over to the desk. His keen eyes spotted the
+money-lender's pistol lying upon the far corner of it. He had also noted
+his prisoner casting furtive glances in the direction of it. To prevent
+any mischance he picked the gleaming weapon up and slipped it into his
+hip pocket. After that he drew a sheet of foolscap from the stationery
+case and laid it on the blotting pad. Then he turned to his comrades.
+
+"Jest help old money-bags over," he said quietly. He was thoroughly
+alert, and as calmly indifferent to the danger of discovery as if he
+were engaged on the most righteous work.
+
+When Lablache had been hoisted and pushed into position at the desk the
+raider took up a pen and held it out towards him.
+
+"Write," he said laconically.
+
+Lablache hesitated. He looked from the pen to the man's leveled pistol.
+Then he reluctantly took the pen. The half-breed promptly dictated, and
+the other wrote. The compulsion was exasperating, and the great man
+scrawled with all the pettishness of a child.
+
+The message read--
+
+"Retief is here. I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed."
+
+"Now sign," said the Breed, when the message was written.
+
+Lablache signed and flung down the pen.
+
+"What's that for?" he demanded huskily.
+
+"For?" His captor shrugged. "I guess them gophers of police are snugly
+trussed by now. Mebbe, though, one o' them might 'a' got clear away.
+When they find you're gone, they'll light on that paper. I jest want 'em
+to come right along after us. Savee? It'll 'most surprise 'em when they
+come along." Then he turned to his men. "Now, boys, lash his hands, and
+cut his feet adrift. Then, into the buckboard with him. Guess his
+carcase is too bulky for any 'plug' to carry. Get a hustle on, lads.
+We've hung around here long enough."
+
+The men stepped forward to obey their chief, but, at that moment,
+Lablache gave another display of that wonderful agility of his of which,
+at times, he was capable. His rage got the better of him, and even under
+the muzzle of his captor's pistol he was determined to resist. We have
+said that the money-lender was no coward; at that moment he was
+desperate.
+
+The nearest Breed received a terrific buffet in the neck, then, in spite
+of his bound feet, Lablache seized his heavy swivel chair, and, raising
+it with all his strength he hurled it at the other. Still Relief's
+pistol was silent. The money-lender noticed the fact, and he became even
+more assured. He turned heavily and aimed a blow at the "hustler." But,
+even as he struck, he felt the weight of Retief's hand, and struggling
+to steady himself--his bound feet impeding him--he overbalanced and fell
+heavily to the ground. In an instant the Breeds were upon him. His own
+handkerchief was used to gag him, and his hands were secured. Then,
+without a moment's delay, he was hoisted from the floor--his great
+weight bearing his captors down--and carried bodily out of the office
+and thrown into his own buckboard, which was waiting at the door. Retief
+sprang into the driving seat whilst one of the Breeds held the prisoner
+down, some other dark figures leapt into the saddles of several waiting
+horses, and the party dashed off at a breakneck speed.
+
+The gleaming stars gave out more than sufficient light for the desperate
+teamster. He swung the well-fed, high-mettled horses of the money-lender
+round, and headed right through the heart of the settlement. The
+audacity of this man was superlative. He lashed the animals into a
+gallop which made the saddle horses extend themselves to keep up. On, on
+into the night they raced, and almost in a flash the settlement was
+passed. The sleepy inhabitants of Foss River heard the mad racing of the
+horses but paid no heed. The daring of the raider was his safeguard.
+
+Lablache knew their destination. They were traveling southward, and he
+felt that their object was his own ranch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A NIGHT OF TERROR
+
+
+That midnight drive was one long nightmare to the unfortunate captive.
+He had been thrown, sprawling, into the iron-railed "carryall" platform
+at the back of the buckboard, and lay on the nut-studded slats, where he
+was jolted and bumped about like the proverbial pea on a drum.
+
+When the raider changed his direction, and turned off the trail on to
+the open prairie, the horrors of the prisoner's position were
+intensified a hundredfold. Alone, there was insufficient room for the
+suffering man in the limited space of the "carryall," but beside him
+sat, or rather crouched, a burly Breed, ready at a moment's notice to
+quash any attempt at escape on the part of the wretched money-lender.
+
+Thus he was borne along, mile after mile, southward towards his own
+ranch. Sometimes during that terrible ride Lablache found time to wonder
+what was the object of these people in thus kidnapping him. Surely if
+they only meant to carry off his cattle, such a task could have been
+done without bringing him along with them. It seemed to him that there
+could be only one interpretation put upon the matter, and, in spite of
+his present agonies, the great man shuddered as he thought.
+
+Courageous as he was, he endured a period of mental agony which took all
+the heart out of him. He understood the methods of the prairie so well
+that he feared the very worst. A tree--a lariat--and he saw, in fancy, a
+crowd of carrion swarming round his swinging body. He could conceive no
+other object, and his nerves became racked almost to breaking pitch.
+
+The real truth of the situation was beyond his wildest dreams. The
+significance of the fact that this second attack was made against him
+was lost upon the wretched man. He only seemed to realize with natural
+dread that Retief--the terror of the countryside--was in this, therefore
+the outcome must surely be the very worst.
+
+At length the horses drew up at Lablache's lonely ranch. His nearest
+neighbor was not within ten miles of him. With that love of power and
+self aggrandisement which always characterized him, the money-lender had
+purchased from the Government a vast tract of country, and retained
+every acre of it for his own stock. It might have stood him in good
+stead now had he let portions of his grazing, and so settled up the
+district. As it was, his ranch was characteristic of himself--isolated;
+and he knew that Retief could here work his will with little chance of
+interference.
+
+As Lablache was hoisted from the buckboard and set upon his feet, and
+the gag was removed from his mouth, the first thing he noticed was the
+absolute quiescence of the place. He wondered if his foreman and the
+hands were yet sleeping.
+
+He was not long left in doubt. Retief gave a few rapid orders to his
+men, and as he did so Lablache observed, for the first time, that the
+Breeds numbered at least half-a-dozen. He felt sure that not more than
+four besides their chief had traveled with them, and yet now the number
+had increased.
+
+The obvious conclusion was that the others were already here at the time
+of the arrival of the buckboard, doubtless with the purpose of carrying
+out Retief's plans.
+
+The Breeds moved off in various directions, and their chief and the
+money-lender were left alone. As soon as the others were out of earshot
+the raider approached his captive. His face seemed to have undergone
+some subtle change. The lofty air of command had been replaced by a look
+of bitter hatred and terrible cruelty.
+
+"Now, Lablache," he said coldly, "I guess you're goin' to see some fun.
+I ain't mostly hard on people. I like to do the thing han'some. Say
+I'll jest roll this bar'l 'long so as you ken set. An' see hyar, ef
+you're mighty quiet I'll loose them hands o' yours."
+
+Lablache deigned no reply, but the other was as good as his word.
+
+"Sulky, some, I guess," the half-breed went on. "Wal, I'm not goin' back
+on my word," he added as he rolled the barrel up to his prisoner and
+scotched it securely. "Thar, set."
+
+The money-lender didn't move.
+
+"Set!" This time the word conveyed a command and the other sat down on
+the barrel.
+
+"Guess I can't stand cantankerous cusses. Now, let's have a look at yer
+bracelets."
+
+He sat beside his captive and proceeded to loosen the rope which bound
+his wrists. Then he quietly drew his pistol and rested it on his knee.
+Lablache enjoyed his freedom, but wondered what was coming next.
+
+There was a moment of silence while the two men gazed at the corrals and
+buildings set out before them. Away to the right, on a rising ground,
+stood a magnificent house built of red pine lumber. Lablache had built
+this as a dwelling for himself. For the prairie it was palatial, and
+there was nothing in the country to equal it. This building alone had
+cost sixty thousand dollars. On a lower level there were the great
+barns. Four or five of these stood linked up by smaller buildings and
+quarters for the ranch hands. Then there was a stretch of low buildings
+which were the boxes built for the great man's thoroughbred stud horses.
+He was possessed of six such animals, and their aggregate cost ran into
+thousands of pounds, each one having been imported from England.
+
+Then there were the corrals with their great ten-foot walls, all built
+of the finest pine logs cut from the mountain forests. These corrals
+covered acres of ground and were capable of sheltering five thousand
+head of cattle without their capacity being taxed. It was an ideal place
+and represented a considerable fortune. Lablache noticed that the
+corrals were entirely empty. He longed to ask his captor for
+explanation, but would not give that swarthy individual the satisfaction
+of imparting unpleasant information.
+
+However, Retief did not intend to let the money-lender off lightly. The
+cruel expression of his face deepened as he followed the direction of
+Lablache's gaze.
+
+"Fine place, this," he said, with a comprehensive nod. "Cost a pile o'
+dollars, I take it."
+
+No answer.
+
+"You ain't got much stock. Guess the boys 'ave helped themselves
+liberal."
+
+Lablache turned his face towards his companion. He was fast being drawn.
+
+"Heard 'em gassin' about twenty thousand head some days back. Guess
+they've borrowed 'em," he went on indifferently.
+
+"You villain!" the exasperated prisoner hissed at last.
+
+If ever a look conveyed a lust for murder Lablache's lashless eyes
+expressed it.
+
+"Eh? What? Guess you ain't well." The icy tones mocked at the distraught
+captive.
+
+The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool.
+
+"My cattle are on the range. You could never have driven off twenty
+thousand head. It would have been impossible without my hearing of it.
+It is more than one night's work."
+
+"That's so," replied the half-breed, smiling sardonically. "Say, your
+hands and foreman are shut up in their shack. They've bin taking things
+easy fur a day or two. Jest to give my boys a free hand. Guess we've
+been at work here these three days."
+
+The money-lender groaned inwardly. He understood the Breed's meaning
+only too well. At last his bottled-up rage broke out again.
+
+"Are you man or devil that you spirit away great herds like this.
+Across the keg, I know, but how--how? Twenty thousand! My God, you'll
+swing for this night's work," he went on impotently. "The whole
+countryside will be after you. I am not the man to sit down quietly
+under such handling. If I spend every cent I'm possessed of, you shall
+be hounded down until you dare not show your face on this side of the
+border."
+
+"Easy, boss," the Breed retorted imperturbably. "Ef you want to see that
+precious store o' yours again a civil tongue 'll help you best. I'm
+mostly a patient man--easy goin'-like. Now jest keep calm an' I'll let
+you see the fun. Now that's a neat shack o' yours," he went on, pointing
+to the money-lender's mansion. "Wonder ef I could put a dose o' lead
+into one o' the windows from here."
+
+Lablache began to think he was dealing with a madman. He remained
+silent, and the Breed leveled his pistol in the direction of the house
+and fired. A moment's silence followed the sharp report. Then Retief
+turned to his captive.
+
+"Guess I didn't hear any glass smash. Likely I missed it," and he
+chuckled fiendishly. Lablache sat gazing moodily at the building. Then
+the half-breed's voice roused him. "Hello, wot's that?" He was pointing
+at the house. "Why, some galoot's lightin' a bonfire! Say, that's
+dangerous Lablache. They might fire your place."
+
+But the other did not answer. His eyes were staring wide with horror. As
+if in answer to the pistol-shot a fire had been lit against the side of
+the house. It was no ordinary fire, either, but a great pile of hay. The
+flames shot up with terrible swiftness, licking up the side of the red
+pine house with lightning rapidity. Lablache understood. The house was
+to be demolished, and Retief had given the signal. He leapt up from his
+seat, forgetful of his bound feet, and made as though to seize the Breed
+by the throat. He got no further, however, for Retief gripped him by the
+shoulder, and, notwithstanding his great bulk, hurled him back on to the
+barrel, at the same time pressing the muzzle of his pistol into his
+face.
+
+"Set down, you scum," he thundered. "Another move like that an' I'll
+let the atmosphere into yer." Then with a Sudden return to his grim
+pastime, as the other remained quiet, "Say, red pine makes powerful fine
+kindlin'. I reckon they'll see that light at the settlement. You don't
+seem pleased, man. Ain't it a beaut. Look, they've started it the other
+side. Now the smoke stack's caught. Burn, burn, you beauty. Look,
+Lablache, a sixty thousand dollar fire, an' all yours. Ain't you proud
+to think that it's all yours?"
+
+Lablache was speechless with horror. Words failed to express his
+feelings. The Breed watched him as a tiger might contemplate its
+helpless prey. He understood something of the agony the great man was
+suffering. He wanted him to suffer--he meant him to suffer. But he had
+only just begun the torture he had so carefully prepared for his victim.
+
+Presently the roof of the building crashed in, and, for the moment, the
+blaze leapt high. Then, soon, it began to die down. Retief seemed to
+tire of watching the dying blaze. He turned again to his prisoner.
+
+"Not 'nough, eh? Not 'nough. We can't stop here all night. Let's have
+the rest. The sight'll warm your heart." And he laughed at his own grim
+pleasantry. "The boys have cleared out your stud 'plugs.' And, I guess,
+yer barns are chocked full of yer wheel gearing and implements. Say, I
+guess we'll have 'em next."
+
+He turned from his silent captive without waiting for reply, and rapidly
+discharged the remaining five barrels of his pistol. For answer another
+five bonfires were lighted round the barns and corals. Almost instantly
+the whole place became a gorgeous blaze of light. The entire ranch, with
+the exception of one little shack was now burning as only pine wood can
+burn. It was a terrible, never-to-be-forgotten sight, and Lablache
+groaned audibly as he saw the pride of his wealth rapidly gutted. If
+ever a man suffered the money-lender suffered that night Retief showed
+a great understanding of his prisoner--far too great an understanding
+for a man who was supposed to be a stranger to Lablache--in the way he
+set about to torture his victim. No bodily pain could have equaled the
+mental agony to which the usurer was submitted. The sight of the
+demolishing of his beautiful ranch--probably the most beautiful in the
+country--was a cruelly exquisite torture to the money-loving man. That
+dread conflagration represented the loss to him of a fortune, for, with
+grasping pusillanimity, Lablache had refused to insure his property. Had
+Retief known this he could not have served his own purpose better.
+Possibly he did know, and possibly that was the inducement which
+prompted his action. Truly was the money-lender paying dearly for past
+misdeeds. With the theft of his cattle and the burning of his ranch his
+loss was terrible, and, in his moment of anguish, he dared not attempt
+to calculate the extent of the catastrophe.
+
+When the fire was at its height Retief again addressed his taunting
+language to the man beside him, and Lablache writhed under the lash of
+that scathing tongue.
+
+"I've heerd tell you wer' mighty proud of this place of yours. Spent
+piles o' bills on it. Nothin' like circulatin' cash, I guess. Say now,
+how long did it take you to fix them shacks up?"
+
+No answer. Lablache was beyond mere words.
+
+"A sight longer than it takes a bit of kindlin' to fetch 'em down, I
+take it," he went on placidly. "When d'ye think you'll start
+re-building? I wonder," thoughtfully, "why they don't fire that shed
+yonder," pointing to the only building left untouched. "Ah, I was
+forgettin', that's whar your hands are enjoyin' themselves. It's
+thoughtful o' the boys. I guess they're good lads. They don't cotton to
+killin' prairie hands. But they ain't so particular over useless lumps
+o' flesh, I guess," with a glance at the stricken man beside him.
+
+Lablache was gasping heavily. The mental strain was almost more than he
+could bear, and his crushed and hopeless attitude brought a satanic
+smile on the cruel face beside him.
+
+"You don't seem to fancy things much," Retief went on. "Guess you ain't
+enjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like this
+fur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?" as the barrel on which they were
+seated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. "I hadn't a
+notion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Them
+barns," he added, pointing, towards the fire, "was built mighty solid.
+They're on'y jest cavin'."
+
+Lablache remained silent. Words, he felt, would be useless. In fact it
+is doubtful if he would have been equal to expression. His spirit was
+crushed and he feared the man beside him as he had never feared any
+human being before. Such was the nervous strain put upon him that the
+sense of his loss was rapidly absorbed in a dread for his own personal
+safety. The conflagration had lost its fascination for him, and at every
+move--every word--of his captor he dreaded the coming of his own end. It
+was a physical and mental collapse, and bordered closely on frenzied
+terror. It was no mental effort of his own that kept him from hurling
+himself upon the other and biting and tearing in a vain effort to rend
+the life out of him. The thought--the fever, desire, craving--was there,
+but the will, the personality, of the Breed held him spellbound, an
+inert mass of flesh incapable of physical effort--incapable almost of
+thought, but a prey to an overwhelming terror.
+
+The watching half-breed at length rose from his seat and shrugged his
+thin, stooping shoulders. He had had enough of his pastime, and time was
+getting on. He had other work to do before daylight. He put his hand to
+his mouth and imitated the cry of the coyote. An instant later answering
+cries came from various directions, and presently the Breeds gathered
+round their chief.
+
+"Say, bring up the 'plugs,' lads. The old boy's had his bellyfull. I
+guess we'll git on." Then he turned upon the broken money-lender and
+spoke while he re-charged the chambers of his pistol.
+
+"See hyar, Lablache, this night's work is on'y a beginning. So long as
+you live in Foss River Settlement so long will I hunt you out an' hustle
+yer stock. You talked of houndin' me, but I guess the shoe's on the
+other foot. I ain't finished by a sight, an' you'll hear from me agin'.
+I don't fancy yer life," he went on with a grin. "Et's too easy, I
+guess. Et's yer bills I'm after. Ye've got plenty an' to spare. But
+bills is all-fired awk'ud to handle when they pass thro' your dirty
+hands. So I'll wait till you've turned 'em into stock. Savee? I'm jest
+goin' right on now. Thar's a bunch o' yer steers waitin' to be taken
+off. Happen I'm goin' to see to 'em right away. One o' these lads'll
+jest set some bracelets on yer hands, and leave yer tucked up and
+comfortable so you can't do any harm, and you can set right thar an'
+wait till some 'un comes along an' looses yer. So long, pard, an'
+remember, Foss River's the hottest place outside o' hell fur you, jest
+now."
+
+Some of the half-breeds had brought up the horses whilst Retief was
+talking, and, as he finished speaking, the hustler vaulted on to the
+back of the great chestnut, Golden Eagle, and prepared to ride away.
+Whilst the others were getting into their saddles he took one look at
+the wretched captive whose hands had been again secured. There was a
+swift exchange of glances--malevolent and murderous on the part of the
+money-lender, and derisive on the part of the half-breed--then Retief
+swung his charger round, and, at the head of his men, galloped away out
+into the starry night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG
+
+
+The rope which brought Horrocks to the ground came near to strangling
+him. He struggled wildly as he fell, and, as he struggled, the grip of
+the rope tightened. He felt that the blood was ready to burst from his
+temples and eyes. Then everything seemed to swim about him and he
+believed consciousness was leaving him. Everything was done in a moment
+and yet he seemed to be passing through an eternity of time.
+
+The lariat is a handy weapon, but to truly appreciate its merits one
+must be a prairie man. The Breeds are prairie men. They understand fully
+the uses to which a "rope" may be put. For criminal purposes they
+appreciate its silent merits, and the dexterity with which they can use
+it makes its value equal to, and even surpass, the noisier and more
+tell-tale pistol.
+
+The next thing that the policeman knew was that he was stretched on his
+back upon the ground, disarmed, and with a great bandanna secured about
+his eyes and mouth, and his hands tied behind his back. Then a gruff
+voice bade him rise, and, as he silently obeyed, he was glad to feel
+that the gripping lariat was removed from his throat. Truly had the
+officer's pride gone before a fall. And his feelings were now of the
+deepest chagrin. He stood turning his head from side to side, blindly
+seeking to penetrate the bandage about his eyes. He knew where he was,
+of course, but he would have given half his year's salary for a sight of
+his assailants.
+
+He was not given long for his futile efforts. The same rough voice
+which had bade him rise now ordered him to walk, and he found himself
+forced forward by the aid of a heavy hand which gripped one of his arms.
+The feeling of a blindfold walk is not a happy one, and the officer
+experienced a strange sensation of falling as he was urged he knew not
+whither. After a few steps he was again halted, and then he felt himself
+seized from behind and lifted bodily into a conveyance.
+
+He quickly realized that he was in a buckboard. The slats which formed
+the body of it, as his feet lit upon them, told him this. Then two men
+jumped in after him and he found himself seated between them. And so he
+was driven off.
+
+In justice to Horrocks it must be said that he experienced no fear.
+True, his chagrin was very great. He saw only too plainly what want of
+discretion he had displayed in trusting to the Breed's story, but he
+felt that his previous association with the rascal warranted his
+credulity, and the outcome must be regarded as the fortune of war. He
+only wondered what strange experience this blindfold journey was to
+forerun. There was not the least doubt in his mind as to whose was the
+devising of this well-laid and well-carried-out plot. Retief, he knew,
+must be answerable for the plan, and the method displayed in its
+execution plainly showed him that every detail had been carefully
+thought out, and administered by only too willing hands. That there was
+more than ordinary purpose in this blindfold journey he felt assured,
+and he racked his brains to discover the desperado's object. He even
+found time to speculate as to how it had fared with his men, only here
+he was even more at a loss than in the case of his own ultimate fate.
+
+In less than half an hour from the time of his capture the buckboard
+drew up beside some bush. Horrocks knew it was a bluff. He could hear
+the rustle of the leaves as they fluttered in the gentle night air. Then
+he was unceremoniously hustled to the ground, and, equally
+unceremoniously, urged forward until his feet trod upon the stubbly,
+breaking undergrowth. Next he was brought to a stand and swung round,
+face about, his bonds were removed, and four powerful hands gripped his
+arms. By these he was drawn backwards until he bumped against a
+tree-trunk. His hands were then again made fast, but this time his arms
+embraced the tree behind him. In this manner he was securely trussed.
+
+Now from behind--his captors were well behind him--a hand reached over,
+and, by a swift movement, removed the bandage from before his eyes.
+Then, before he had time to turn his head, he heard a scrambling through
+the bush, and, a moment later, the sound of the creaking buckboard
+rapidly receding. He was left alone; and, after one swift, comprehensive
+survey, to his surprise, he found himself facing the wire-spreading
+muskeg, at the very spot where he had given up further pursuit of the
+cattle whose "spur" he had traced down to the brink of the viscid mire.
+
+His astonishment rendered him oblivious to all else. He merely gazed out
+across that deceptive flat and wondered. Why--why had this thing been
+done, and what strange freak had induced the "hustler" to conceive such
+a form of imprisonment for his captive? Horrocks struggled with his
+confusion, but he failed to fathom the mystery, and never was a man's
+confusion worse confounded than was his.
+
+Presently he bethought him of his bonds, and he cautiously tried them.
+They were quite unyielding, and, at each turn of his arms, they caused
+him considerable pain. The Breeds had done their work well, and he
+realized that he must wait the raider's pleasure. He was certain of one
+thing, however, which brought him a slight amount of comfort. He had
+been brought here for a definite purpose. Moreover, he did not believe
+that he was to be left here alone for long. So, with resignation induced
+by necessity, he possessed himself of what patience he best could
+summon.
+
+How long that solitary vigil lasted Horrocks had no idea. Time, in that
+predicament, was to him of little account. He merely wondered and
+waited. He considered himself more than fortunate that his captors had
+seen fit to remove the bandage from his eyes. In spite of his painful
+captivity he felt less helpless from the fact that he could see what
+might be about him.
+
+From a general survey his attention soon became riveted upon the muskeg
+spread out before him, and, before long, his thoughts turned to the
+secret path which he knew, at some point near by, bridged the silent
+horror. All about him was lit by the starry splendor of the sky. The
+scent of the redolent grass of the great keg hung heavily upon the air
+and smelt sweet in his nostrils. He could see the ghostly outline of the
+distant peaks of the mountains, he could hear the haunting cries of
+nightfowl and coyote; but these things failed to interest him.
+Familiarity with the prairie made them, to him, commonplace. The
+path--the secret of the great keg. That was the absorbing thought which
+occupied his waiting moments. He felt that its discovery would more than
+compensate for any blunders he had made. He strained his keen eyes as he
+gazed at the tall waving grass of the mire, as though to tear from the
+bosom of the awful swamp the secret it so jealously guarded. He slowly
+surveyed its dark surface, almost inch by inch, in the hopes of
+discovering the smallest indication or difference which might lead to
+the desired end.
+
+There was nothing in what he saw to guide him, nothing which offered the
+least suggestion of a path. In the darkness the tall waving grass took a
+nondescript hue which reached unbroken for miles around. Occasionally
+the greensward seemed to ripple in the breeze, like water swayed by a
+soft summer zephyr, but beyond this the outlook was uniform--darkly
+mysterious--inscrutable.
+
+His arms cramped under the pressure of the restraining bonds and he
+moved uneasily. Now and again the rustling of the leaves overhead caused
+him to listen keenly. Gradually his fancy became slightly distorted,
+and, as time passed, the sounds which had struck so familiarly upon his
+ears, and which had hitherto passed unheeded, began to get upon his
+nerves.
+
+By-and-by he found himself listening eagerly for the monotonous
+repetition of the prairie scavenger's dismal howl, and as the cries
+recurred they seemed to grow in power and become more plaintively
+horrible. Now, too, the sighing of the breeze drew more keen attention
+from the imprisoned man, and fancy magnified it into the sound of many
+approaching feet. These matters were the effect of solitude. At such
+times nerves play curious pranks.
+
+In spite of his position, in spite of his anxiety of mind, the
+police-officer began to grow drowsy. The long night's vigil was telling,
+and nature rebelled, as she always will rebel when sleep is refused and
+bodily rest is unobtainable. A man may pace his bedroom for hours with
+the unmitigated pain of toothache. Even while the pain is almost
+unendurable his eyes will close and he will continue his peregrinations
+with tottering gait, awake, but with most of his faculties drowsily
+faltering. Horrocks found his head drooping forward, and, even against
+his will, his eyes would close. Time and again he pulled himself
+together, only the next instant to catch himself dozing off again.
+
+Suddenly, however, he was electrified into life. He was awake now, and
+all drowsiness had vanished. A sound--distant, rumbling, but
+distinct--had fallen upon his, for the moment, dulled ears. For awhile
+it likened to the far-off growl of thunder, blending with a steady rush
+of wind. But it was not passing. The sound remained and grew steadily
+louder. A minute passed--then another and then another. Horrocks stared
+in the direction, listening with almost painful intensity. As the
+rumbling grew, and the sound became more distinct, a light of
+intelligence crept into the prisoner's face. He heard and recognized.
+
+"Cattle!" he muttered, and in that pronouncement was an inflection of
+joy. "Cattle--and moving at a great pace."
+
+He was alert now, as alert as he had ever been in his life. Was he at
+last going to discover the coveted secret? Cattle traveling fast at this
+time of night, and in the vicinity of the great keg. What could it mean?
+To his mind there could only be one construction which he could
+reasonably put upon the circumstance. The cattle were being "hustled,"
+and the hustler must be the half-breed Retief.
+
+Then, like a douche of cold water, followed the thought that he had been
+purposely made a prisoner at the edge of the muskeg. Surely he was not
+to be allowed to see the cattle pass over the mire and then be permitted
+to go free. Even Retief in his wildest moments of bravado could not
+meditate so reckless a proceeding. No, there was some subtle purpose
+underlying this new development--possibly the outcome was to be far more
+grim than he had supposed. He waited horrified, at his own thoughts, but
+fascinated in spite of himself.
+
+The sound grew rapidly and Horrocks's face remained turned in the
+direction from which it proceeded. He fancied, even in the uncertain
+light, that he could see the distant crowd of beasts silhouetted against
+the sky-line. His post of imprisonment was upon the outskirts of the
+bush, and he had a perfect and uninterrupted view of the prairie along
+the brink of the keg, both to the north and south.
+
+It was his fancy, however, which designed the silhouette, and he soon
+became aware that the herd was nearer than he had supposed. The noise
+had become a continuous roar as the driven beasts came on, and he saw
+them loom towards him a black patch on the dark background of the
+dimly-lit prairie. The bunch was large, but his straining eyes as yet
+could make no estimate of its numbers. He could see several herders, but
+these, too, were as yet beyond recognition.
+
+Yet another surprise was in store for the waiting man. So fixed had his
+attention been upon the on-coming cattle that he had not once removed
+his eyes from the direction of their approach. Now, however, a prolonged
+bellow to the right of him caused him to turn abruptly. To his utter
+astonishment he saw, not fifty yards from him, a solitary horseman
+leading a couple of steers by ropes affixed to their horns. He wondered
+how long this strange apparition had been there. The horse was calmly
+nibbling at the grass, and the man was quietly resting himself with
+elbows propped upon the horn of his saddle. He, too, appeared to be
+gazing in the direction of the on-coming cattle. Horrocks tried hard to
+distinguish the man's appearance, but the light was too uncertain to
+give him more than the vaguest idea of his personality.
+
+The horse seemed to be black or very dark brown. And the general outline
+of the rider was that of a short slight man, with rather long hair which
+flowed from beneath the brim of his Stetson hat. The most curious
+distinguishable feature was his slightness. The horse was big and the
+man, was so small that, as he sat astride of his charger, he looked to
+be little more than a boy of fifteen or sixteen.
+
+Horrocks's survey was cut short, however, for now the herd of cattle was
+tearing down upon him at a desperate racing pace. He saw the solitary
+rider gather up his lines and move his horse further away from the edge
+of the muskeg. Then the herd of cattle came along. They raced past the
+bluff where the officer was stationed, accompanied by four swarthy
+drivers, one of which was mounted upon a great chestnut horse whose
+magnificent stride and proportions fixed the captive's attention. He had
+heard of "Golden Eagle," and he had no doubt in his mind that this was
+he and the rider was the celebrated cattle-thief. The band and its
+drovers swept by, and Horrocks estimated that the cattle numbered many
+hundreds.
+
+After awhile he heard the sound of voices. Then the beasts were driven
+back again over their tracks, only at a more gentle pace. Several times
+the performance was gone through, and each time, as they passed him,
+Horrocks noticed that their pace was decreased, until by the sixth time
+they passed their gait had become a simple mouche, and they leisurely
+nipped up the grass as they went, with bovine unconcern. It was a
+masterly display of how cattle can be handled, and Horrocks forgot for a
+while his other troubles in his interest in the spectacle.
+
+After passing him for the sixth time the cattle came to a halt; and then
+the strangest part of this strange scene was enacted. The horseman with
+the led steers, whom, by this time, Horrocks had almost forgotten, came
+leisurely upon the field of action. No instructions were given. The
+whole thing was done in almost absolute silence. It seemed as if long
+practice had perfected the method of procedure.
+
+The horseman advanced to the brink of the muskeg, exactly opposite to
+the bluff where the captive was tied, and with him the two led steers.
+Horrocks held his breath--his excitement was intense. The swarthy
+drivers roused the tired cattle and headed them towards the captive
+steers. Horrocks saw the boyish rider urge his horse fearlessly on to
+the treacherous surface of the keg. The now docile and exhausted cattle
+followed leisurely. There was no undue bustle or haste. It was a
+veritable "follow my leader." Where it was good enough for the captive
+leaders to go it was good enough for the weary beasts to follow, and so,
+as the boy rider moved forward, the great herd followed in twos and
+threes. The four drivers remained until the end, and then, as the last
+steer set foot on the dreadful mire, they too joined in the silent
+procession.
+
+Horrocks exerted all his prairie instinct as he watched the course of
+that silent band. He was committing to memory, as far as he was capable,
+the direction of the path across the keg, for, when opportunity offered,
+he was determined to follow up his discovery and attempt the journey
+himself. He fancied in his own secret heart that Retief had at last
+overreached himself, and in thus giving away his secret he was paving
+the way to his own capture.
+
+It was not long before the cattle and their drivers passed out of sight,
+but Horrocks continued to watch, so that he should lose no chance detail
+of interest. At length, however, he found that his straining gaze was
+useless, and all further interest passed out of his lonely vigil.
+
+Now he busied himself with plans for his future movements, when he
+should once more be free. And in such thought the long night passed, and
+the time drew on towards dawn.
+
+The surprises of the night were not yet over, however, for just before
+the first streaks of daylight shot athwart the eastern sky he saw two
+horsemen returning across the muskeg. He quickly recognized them as
+being the raider himself and the boyish rider who had led the cattle
+across the mire. They came across at a good pace, and as they reached
+the bank the officer was disgusted to see the boy ride off in a
+direction away from the settlement, and the raider come straight towards
+the bluff. Horrocks was curious about the boy who seemed so conversant
+with the path across the mire, and was anxious to have obtained a
+clearer view of him.
+
+The raider drew his horse up within a few yards of the captive. Horrocks
+had a good view of the man's commanding, eagle face. In spite of himself
+he could not help but feel a strange admiration for this lawless Breed.
+
+There was something wonderfully fascinating and lofty in the hustler's
+direct, piercing gaze as, proudly disdainful, he looked down upon his
+discomfited prisoner.
+
+He seemed in no hurry to speak. A shadowy smile hovered about his face
+as he eyed the officer. Then he turned away and looked over to the
+eastern horizon. He turned back again and drawled out a greeting. It was
+not cordial but it was characteristic of him.
+
+"Wal?"
+
+Horrocks made no reply. The Breed laughed mockingly, and leant forward
+upon the horn of his saddle.
+
+"Guess you've satisfied your curiosity--some. Say, the boys didn't
+handle you too rough, I take it. I told 'em to go light."
+
+Horrocks was constrained to retort.
+
+"Not so rough as you'll be handled when you get the law about you."
+
+"Now I call that unfriendly. Guess them's gopher's words. But say, pard,
+the law ain't got me yet. Wot d'ye think of the road across the keg?
+Mighty fine trail that." He laughed as though enjoying a good joke.
+
+Horrocks felt that he must terminate this interview. The Breed had a
+most provoking way with him. His self-satisfaction annoyed his hearer.
+
+"How much longer do you intend to keep me here?" Horrocks exclaimed
+bitterly. "I suppose you mean murder; you'd better get on with it and
+stop gassing. Men of your kidney don't generally take so much time over
+that sort of business."
+
+Retief seemed quite unruffled.
+
+"Murder? Why, man, I didn't bring you here to murder you. Guess ef I'd a
+notion that way you'd 'a' been done neat long ago. No, I jest wanted to
+show you what you wanted to find out. Now I'm goin' to let you go, so
+you, an' that skunk Lablache'll be able to chin-wag over this night's
+doin's. That's wot I'm here fer right now."
+
+As he finished speaking the Breed circled Golden Eagle round behind the
+tree, and, bending low down from the saddle, he cut the rope which held
+the policeman's wrists. Horrocks, feeling himself freed, stepped quickly
+from the bush into the open, and faced about towards his liberator. As
+he did so he found himself looking up into the muzzle of Retief's
+revolver. He stood his ground unflinchingly.
+
+"Now, see hyar, pard," said Retief, quietly, "I've a mighty fine respect
+for you. You ain't the cuckoo that many o' yer mates is. You've got
+grit, anyway. But that ain't all you need. 'Savee's' a mighty fine
+thing--on occasions. Now you need 'Savee.' I'll jest give yer a piece of
+advice right hyar. You go straight off down to Lablache's ranch. You'll
+find him thar. An' pesky uncomfortable you'll find him. You ken set him
+free, also his ranch boys, an' when you've done that jest make tracks
+for Stormy Cloud an' don't draw rein till you git thar. Ef ever you see
+Retief on one trail, jest hit right off on to another. That's good sound
+sense right through fur you. Say, work on that, an' you ain't like to
+come to no harm. But I swear, right hyar, ef you an' me ever come to
+close quarters I'll perforate you--'less you git the drop on me. An' to
+do that'll keep you humpin'. So long, pard. It's jest gettin' daylight,
+ah' I don't calc'late to slouch around hyar when the sun's shinin'.
+Don't go fur to forget my advice. I don't charge nothin' fur it, but
+it's good, pard--real good, for all that. So long."
+
+He swung his horse round, and before Horrocks had time to collect
+himself, much less to speak, he was almost out of sight.
+
+Half dazed and still wondering at the strangeness of the desperate
+Breed's manner he mechanically began to walk slowly in the direction of
+the Foss River Settlement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE DAY AFTER
+
+
+Morning broke over a disturbed and restless community at Foss River. The
+chief residents who were not immediately concerned in the arrest of
+Retief--only deeply interested, and therefore skeptical--had gone to bed
+over-night eager for the morning light to bring them news. Their broken
+slumbers ceased as daylight broadened into sunrise, and, without waiting
+for their morning coffee, the majority set out to gather the earliest
+crumbs of news obtainable. There were others, of course, who were not in
+the know, or, at least, had only heard vague rumors. These were less
+interested, and therefore failed to rise so early.
+
+Amongst the earliest abroad was Doctor Abbot. Aunt Margaret's interest
+was not sufficient to drag her from her downy couch thus early, but,
+with truly womanly logic, she saw no reason why the doctor should not
+glean for her the information she required. Therefore the doctor rose
+and shivered under the lightness of his summer apparel in the brisk
+morning air.
+
+The market-place, upon which the doctor's house looked, was almost
+deserted when he passed out of his door. He glanced quickly around for
+some one whom he might recognize. He saw that the door of "Lord" Bill's
+shack was open, but it was too far off for him to see whether that lazy
+individual was yet up. A neche was leisurely cleaning up round
+Lablache's store, whilst the local butcher was already busy swabbing out
+the little shed which did duty for his shop. As yet there was no other
+sign of life abroad, and Doctor Abbot prepared to walk across to the
+butcher for a gossip, and thus wait for some one else to come along.
+
+He stepped briskly from his house, for he was "schrammed" with cold in
+his white drill clothing. As he approached the energetic butcher, he saw
+a man entering the market-place from the southern extremity of the
+settlement. He paused to look closely at the new-comer. In a moment he
+recognized Thompson, one of the clerks from Lablache's store. He
+conjectured at once that this man might be able to supply him with the
+information he desired, and so changed his direction and went across to
+meet him.
+
+"Mornin', Thompson," he said, peering keenly into the pale, haggard face
+of the money-lender's employee. "What's up with you? You look positively
+ill. Have you heard how the arrest went off last night?"
+
+There was a blunt directness about the doctor which generally drove
+straight to the point. The clerk wearily passed his hand across his
+forehead. He seemed half asleep, and, as the doctor had asserted,
+thoroughly ill.
+
+"Arrest, doctor? Precious little arrest there's been. I've been out on
+the prairie all night. What, haven't you heard about the governor? Good
+lor'! I don't know what's going to happen to us all. Do you think we're
+safe here?"
+
+"Safe here? What do you mean, man?" the doctor answered, noting the
+other's fearful glances round. "Why, what ails you? What about
+Lablache?"
+
+Others had now appeared upon the market-place and Doctor Abbot saw
+"Lord" Bill, dressed in a gray tweed suit, and looking as fresh as if he
+had just emerged from the proverbial bandbox, coming leisurely towards
+him.
+
+"What about Lablache, eh?" replied Thompson, echoing the doctor's
+question ruefully. "A pretty nice thing Horrocks and his fellows have
+let themselves, and us, in for."
+
+Bill had come up now and several others had joined the group. They stood
+by and listened while the clerk told his story. And what a story it was
+too. It was vividly sanguinary, and enough to strike terror into the
+hearts of his audience.
+
+He told with great gusto of how Lablache had been abducted. How the
+police horses and the money-lender's had been stolen from the stables at
+the store. He dwelt on the frightful horrors committed up at the Breed
+camp. How he had seen the police shot down before his very eyes, and he
+became expansive on the fact that, with his own hands, Retief had
+carried off Horrocks, and how he had heard the raider declare his
+intention of hanging him. It was a terrible tale of woe, and his
+audience was thrilled and horrified. "Lord" Bill alone appeared unmoved.
+A close observer even might have noticed the faintest suspicion of a
+smile at the corners of his mouth. The smile broadened as the sharp
+doctor launched a question at the narrator of terrible facts.
+
+"How came you to see all this, and escape?"
+
+Thompson was at no loss. He told how he had been sent up by "Poker" John
+to find Horrocks and tell him about Lablache. How he arrived in time to
+see the horrors perpetrated, and how he only managed to escape with his
+own life by flight, under cover of the darkness, and how, pursued by the
+bloodthirsty Breeds, he had managed to hide on the prairie, where he
+remained until daylight, and then by a circuitous route got back to the
+settlement.
+
+"I tell you what it is, doctor," he finished up consequentially, "the
+Breeds are in open rebellion, and, headed by that devil, Retief, intend
+to clear us whites out of the country. It's the starting of another Riel
+rebellion, and if we don't get help from the Government quickly, it's
+all up with us. That's my opinion," and he gazed patronizingly upon the
+crowd, which by this time had assembled.
+
+"Nonsense, man," said the doctor sharply. "Your opinion's warped.
+Besides, you're in a blue funk. Come on over to 'old man' Smith's and
+have a 'freshener.' You want bucking-up. Coming, Bill?" he went on,
+turning to Bunning-Ford. "I want an 'eye-opener' myself. What say to a
+'Collins'?"
+
+The three moved away from the crowd, which they left horrified at what
+it had heard, and eagerly discussing and enlarging upon the sanguinary
+stories of Thompson.
+
+"Poker" John was already at the saloon when the three reached the door
+of "old man" Smith's reeking den. The proprietor was sweeping the bar,
+in a vain effort to clear the atmosphere of the nauseating stench of
+stale tobacco and drink. John was propped against the bar mopping up his
+fourth "Collins." He usually had a thirst that took considerable
+quenching in the mornings now. His over-night potations were deep and
+strong. Morning "nibbling" had consequently become a disease with him.
+"Old man" Smith, with a keen eye to business, systematically mixed the
+rancher's morning drinks good and strong.
+
+Bill and the doctor were not slow to detect the condition of their old
+friend, and each felt deeply on the subject. Their cheery greetings,
+however, were none the less hearty. Smith desisted in his dusty
+occupation and proceeded to serve his customers.
+
+"We're having lively times, John," said the doctor, after emptying his
+"long sleever." "Guess Retief's making things 'hum' in Foss River."
+
+"Hum? Shout is more like it," drawled Bill. "You've heard all the news,
+John?"
+
+"I've enough news of my own," growled the rancher.
+
+"Been up all night. I see you've got Thompson with you. What did
+Horrocks do after you told him about Lablache?" he went on, turning to
+the clerk.
+
+Bill and the doctor exchanged meaning glances. The clerk having found a
+fresh audience again repeated his story. "Poker" John listened
+carefully. At the close of the narrative he snorted disdainfully and
+looked from the clerk to his two friends. Then he laughed loudly. The
+clerk became angry.
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Allandale, but if you doubt my word--"
+
+"Doubt your word, boy?" he said, when his mirth had subsided. "I don't
+doubt your word. Only I've spent most of the night up at the Breed camp
+myself."
+
+"And were you there, sir, when Horrocks was captured?"
+
+"No, I was not. After you came to my place and went on to the camp, I
+was very uneasy. So, after a bit, I got my 'hands' together and prepared
+to follow you up there. Just as I was about to set out," he went on,
+turning to the doctor and Bill, "I met Jacky coming in. Bless you if she
+hadn't been to see the pusky herself. You know," with a slight frown,
+"that child is much too fond of those skulking Breeds. Well, anyway, she
+said everything was quiet enough while she was there and," turning again
+to Thompson, "she had seen nothing of Retief or Horrocks or any of the
+latter's men. We just put our heads together, and she convinced me that
+I was right, after what had occurred at the store, and had better go up.
+So up I went. We searched the whole camp. I guess we were there for nigh
+on three hours. The place was quiet enough. They were still dancing and
+drinking, but not a blessed sign of Horrocks could we find."
+
+"I expect he'd gone before you got there, sir," put in Thompson.
+
+"Did you find the bodies of the murdered police?" asked the doctor
+innocently.
+
+"Not a sign of 'em," laughed John. "There were no dead policemen, and,
+what's more, there was no trace of any shooting."
+
+The three men turned on the clerk, who felt that he must justify
+himself.
+
+"There was shooting enough, sir; you mark my words. You'll hear of it
+to-day, sure."
+
+"Lord" Bill walked away towards the window in disgust. The clerk annoyed
+him.
+
+"No, boy, no. I'm thinking you are mistaken. I should have discovered
+some trace had there been any shooting. I don't deny that your story's
+true, but in the excitement of the moment I guess you got rattled--and
+saw things."
+
+Old John laughed and turned away. At that instant Bill called them all
+over to the window. The bar window overlooked the market-place, and the
+front of Lablache's store was almost opposite to it.
+
+Bill pointed towards the store as the three men gathered round. "Old
+man" Smith also ranged himself with the others.
+
+"Look!" Bill smiled grimly.
+
+A buckboard had just drawn up outside Lablache's emporium and two people
+were alighting. A crowd had gathered round the arrivals. There was no
+mistaking one of the figures. The doctor was the first to give
+expression to the thought that was in the mind of each of the interested
+spectators.
+
+"Lablache!" he exclaimed in astonishment
+
+"And Horrocks," added "Lord" Bill quietly.
+
+"Guess he wasn't hung then after all," said "Poker" John, turning as he
+spoke. But Thompson had taken his departure. This last blow was too
+much. And he felt that it was an advantageous moment in which to retire
+to his employer's store, and hide his diminished head amongst the bales
+of dry goods and the monumental ledgers to be found there.
+
+"That youth has a considerable imagination." The Hon. Bunning-Ford
+turned from the window and strolled leisurely towards the door.
+
+"Where are you going?" exclaimed "Poker" John.
+
+"To cook some breakfast."
+
+"No, no, you must come up to the ranch with me. Let's go right over to
+the store first, and hear what Lablache has to say. Then we'll go and
+feed."
+
+Bill shrugged. Then,--
+
+"Lablache and I are not on the best of terms," he said doubtfully. He
+wished to go notwithstanding his demur. Besides he was anxious to go on
+to the ranch to see Jacky. The doubt in his tone gave John his cue, and
+the old man refused to be denied.
+
+"Come along," he said, and linking his arm within the other's, he led
+the way over to the store; the doctor, equally eager, bringing up the
+rear.
+
+Bill suffered himself to be thus led. He knew that in such company
+Lablache could not very well refuse him admission to his office. He had
+a decided wish to be present when the money-lender told his tale.
+However, in this he was doomed to disappointment. Lablache had already
+decided upon a plan of action.
+
+At the store the three friends made their way through the crowd of
+curious people who had gathered on the unexpected return of the chief
+actors in last night's drama; they made their way quickly round to the
+back where the private door was.
+
+Lablache was within, and with him Horrocks. The heavy voice of the
+money-lender answered "Poker" John's summons.
+
+"Come in."
+
+He was surprised when the door opened, and he saw who his visitors were.
+John and the doctor he was prepared for, but "Lord" Bill's coming was a
+different matter. For an instant he seriously meditated an angry
+objection. Then he altered his mind, a thing which was rare with him.
+After all the man's presence could do no harm, and he felt that to
+object to him, would be to quarrel with the rancher. On second thoughts
+he would tolerate what he considered the intrusion.
+
+Lablache was ensconced in his basket chair, and Horrocks was at the
+great man's desk. Neither moved as their visitors entered. The troubles
+of the previous night were plainly written on both men's faces. There
+was a haggard look in their eyes, and a generally dishevelled appearance
+about their dress. Lablache in particular looked unwashed and untidy.
+Horrocks looked less troubled, and there was a strong air of
+determination about his face.
+
+"Poker" John showed no niceness in broaching the subject of his visit.
+His libations had roused him to the proper pitch for plain speaking.
+
+"Well, what happened to you last night, Lablache? I guess you're looking
+about as blue as they make 'em. Say, I thought sure Retief was going to
+do for you when I heard about it."
+
+"Ah. Who told you about--about me?"
+
+"Your clerk."
+
+"Rodgers?"
+
+"No, Thompson."
+
+"Ah! Have you seen Rodgers at all?"
+
+"No." John turned to the other two. "Have you?"
+
+Neither of the men had seen the clerk, and old John turned again to
+Lablache.
+
+"Why, what's happened to Rodgers?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. I haven't seen him since I have been back--that's all."
+
+"Well, now tell us all about last night," went on the rancher. "This
+matter is going to be cleared up. I have been thinking of a vigilance
+committee. We can't do better."
+
+Lablache shook his great head. To the doctor and "Lord" Bill there
+seemed to be an utter hopelessness conveyed in the motion.
+
+"I have nothing to tell. Neither has Horrocks. What happened last night
+concerns ourselves alone. You may possibly hear more later on, but the
+telling by us now will do no good, and probably a lot of harm. As for
+your vigilance committee, form it if you like, but I doubt that you will
+do any good with it."
+
+This refusal riled the old rancher. He was just in that condition when
+it would take little to make him quarrel. He was about to rap out an
+angry retort when a knock came at the partition door. It was Thompson.
+He had come to say that the troopers had returned, and wanted to see the
+sergeant. Also to say that Rodgers was with them. Horrocks immediately
+went out to see them, and, before John could say a word, Lablache turned
+on him.
+
+"Look here, John, for the present my lips are sealed. It is Horrocks's
+wish. He has a plan which he wishes to carry out quietly. The result of
+his plan largely depends upon silence. Retief seems to have sources of
+information everywhere. Walls have ears, man. Now, I shall be glad if
+you will leave me. I--I must get cleaned up."
+
+John's anger died within him. He saw that Lablache was upset. He looked
+absolutely ill. The old man's good nature would not allow him to press
+this companion of his ranching life further. There was nothing left for
+him to do but leave.
+
+As he rose to go, the money-lender unbent still further.
+
+"I'll see you later, John, I may then be able to tell you more. Perhaps
+it may interest you to know that Horrocks has discovered the path across
+the keg, and--he's going to cross it. Good-by. So long, Doc."
+
+"Very well, I shall be up at the ranch. Come along, Bill. Jacky, I
+expect, is waiting breakfast for us."
+
+Lablache heard the old man's remark as the latter passed out, and a
+bitter feeling of resentment rose within him. He felt that everything
+was against him. His evil nature, however, would not let him remain long
+desponding. He ground his teeth and cursed bitterly. It had only wanted
+a fillip such as this to rouse him from the curious lethargic
+hopelessness into which the terrible night's doings had cast him.
+
+The moment the three men got away from the store, Doctor Abbot drew
+attention to the money-lender's words.
+
+"Going to cross the keg, eh? Well, if he's really discovered the path
+it's certainly the best thing to do. He's a sharp man is Horrocks."
+
+"He's a fool!"
+
+Bill's words were so emphatic that both men stared at him. If they were
+startled at his words, they were still more startled at the set
+expression of his face. Doctor Abbot thought he had never seen the
+_insouciant_ Bill so roused out of himself.
+
+"Why--how?"
+
+"How? I tell you, man, that no one knows that path
+except--except--Retief, and, supposing Horrocks has discovered it, if he
+attempts to cross, there can only be one result to his mad folly. I tell
+you what it is, the man should be stopped. It's absolute
+suicide--nothing more nor less."
+
+Something in the emphasis of "Lord" Bill's words kept the others silent
+until the doctor left them at his home. Then as the two men hurried out
+across the prairie towards the ranch, the conversation turned back to
+the events of the previous evening.
+
+At the ranch they found Jacky awaiting the old man's return, on the
+veranda. She was surprised when she saw who was with him. Her surprise
+was a pleasant one, however, and she extended her hand in cordial
+welcome.
+
+"Come right in, Bill. Gee, but you look fit--and slick."
+
+The two young people smiled into each other's faces, and no onlooker,
+not even the observant Aunt Margaret, could have detected the
+understanding which passed in that look. Jacky was radiant. Her sweet,
+dark face was slightly flushed. There were no tell-tale rings about her
+dark eyes. For all sign she gave to the contrary she might have enjoyed
+the full measure of a night's rest. Her visit to the Breed camp, or, for
+that matter, any other adventures which had befallen her during the
+night, had left no trace on her beautiful face.
+
+"I've brought the boy up to feed," said old John. "I guess we'll get
+right to it. I've got a 'twist' on me that'll take considerable to
+satisfy."
+
+The meal passed pleasantly enough. The conversation naturally was
+chiefly confined to the events of the night. But somehow the others did
+not respond very eagerly to the old rancher's evident interest and
+concern. Most of the talking--most of the theorizing--most of the
+suggestions for the stamping out of the scourge, Retief, came from him,
+the others merely contenting themselves with agreeing to his suggestions
+with a lack of interest which, had the old man been perfectly sober, he
+could not have failed to observe. However, he was especially obtuse this
+morning, and was too absorbed in his own impracticable theories and
+suggestions to notice the others' lack of interest.
+
+At the conclusion of the meal the rancher took himself off down to the
+settlement again. He must endeavor to draw Lablache, he said. He would
+not wait for him to come to the ranch.
+
+Jacky and Bill went out on to the veranda, and watched the old man as he
+set out with unsteady gait for the settlement.
+
+"Bill," said the girl, as soon as her uncle was out of earshot, "what
+news?"
+
+"Two items of interest One, the very best, and the other--the very
+worst."
+
+"Which means?"
+
+"No one has the least suspicion of us; and Horrocks, the madman, intends
+to attempt the passage of the keg."
+
+"Lord" Bill jaws shut with a snap as he ceased speaking. The look which
+accompanied his last announcement was one of utter dejection. Jacky did
+not reply for an instant, her great eyes had taken on a look of deep
+anxiety as she gazed towards the muskeg.
+
+"Bill, can nothing be done to stop him?" She gazed appealingly up into
+the face of the tall figure beside her. "He is a brave man, if foolish."
+
+"That's just it, dear. He's headstrong and means to see this thing
+through. Had I thought that he would ever dream of contemplating such a
+suicidal feat as attempting that path, I'd never have let him see the
+cattle cross last night. My God! it turns me sick to think of it."
+
+"Hush, Bill, don't talk so loud. Do you think any one could dissuade
+him? Lablache, or--or uncle, for instance."
+
+Bunning-Ford shook his head. His look was troubled.
+
+"Horrocks is not the man to be turned from his purpose," he replied.
+"And besides, Lablache would not attempt such a thing. He is too keen to
+capture--Relief," with a bitter laugh. "A life more or less would not
+upset that scoundrel's resolve. As for your uncle," with a shrug, "I
+don't think he's the man for the task. No, Jacky," he went on, with a
+sigh, "we must let things take their course now. We have embarked on
+this business. We mustn't weaken. His blood be upon his own head."
+
+They relapsed into silence for some moments. "Lord" Bill lit a
+cigarette, and leant himself against one of the veranda posts. He was
+worried at the turn events had taken. He had no grudge against Horrocks;
+the man was but doing his duty. But his meditated attempt he considered
+to be an exaggerated sense of that duty. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"Jacky--do you know, I feel that somehow the end of this business is
+approaching. What the end is to be I cannot foretell. One thing,
+however, is clear. Sooner or later we must run foul of people, and when
+that occurs--well," throwing his cigarette from him viciously, "it
+simply means shooting. And--"
+
+"Yes, Bill, I know what you would say. Shooting means killing, killing
+means murder, and murder means swinging. You're right, but," and the
+girl's eyes began to blaze, "before that, Lablache must go under.
+Whatever happens, Bill, before we decorate any tree with our bodies, if
+our object is not already obtained, I'll shoot him with my own pistol. I
+guess we're embarked on a game that we're going to see through."
+
+"That's so. We'll see it through. Do you know what stock we've taken,
+all told? Close on twenty thousand head, and--all Lablache's. They're
+snug over at 'Bad Man's' Hollow, and a tidy fine bunch they are. The
+division with the boys is a twentieth each, and the balance is ours. Our
+share is ten thousand." He ceased speaking. Then presently he went on,
+harking back to the subject of Horrocks. "I wish that man could be
+stayed. His failure must precipitate matters. Should he drown, as he
+surely will, the whole countryside will join in the hue and cry. It is
+only his presence here that keeps the settlers in check. Well, so be it.
+It's a pity. But I'm not going to swing. They'll never take me alive."
+
+"If it comes to that, Bill, you'll not be alone, I guess. You can gamble
+your soul, when it comes to open warfare I'm with you, an' I guess I can
+shoot straight."
+
+Bill looked at the girl in astonishment. He noted the keen deep eyes,
+the set little mouth. The fearless expression on her beautiful face. Her
+words had fairly taken his breath away, but he saw that she had meant
+what she said.
+
+"No, no, girlie. No one will suspect you. Besides, this is my affair.
+You have your uncle."
+
+"Say, boy, I love my uncle--I love him real well. I'm working for him,
+we both are--and we'll work for him to the last. But our work together
+has taught me something, Bill, and when I cotton to teaching there's
+nothing that can knock what I learn out of my head. I've just learned to
+love you, Bill. And, as the Bible says, old Uncle John's got to take
+second place. That's all. If you go under--well, I guess I'll go under
+too."
+
+Jacky gave her lover no chance to reply. As he opened his lips to
+expostulate and took a step towards her she darted away, and disappeared
+into the sitting-room. He followed her in, but the room was empty.
+
+He paused. Then a smile spread over his face.
+
+"I don't fancy we shall go under, little woman," he muttered, "at least,
+not if I can help it."
+
+He turned back to the veranda and strolled away towards the settlement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE PAW OF THE CAT
+
+
+Lablache was alone. Horrocks had left him to set out on his final effort
+to discover Retief's hiding-place. The great man was eagerly waiting for
+his return. Evening was drawing on and the officer had not yet put in an
+appearance, neither had the money-lender received any word from him. In
+consequence he was beginning to hope that Horrocks had succeeded.
+
+All day the wretched man had been tortured by horrid fears. And, as time
+passed and evening drew on, his mood became almost a panic. The
+money-lender was in a deplorable state of mind; his nerves were shaken,
+and he was racked by a dread of he scarce knew what. What he had gone
+through the night before had driven him to the verge of mental collapse.
+No bodily injury could have thus reduced him; for, whatever might have
+been his failings, physical cowardice was not amongst the number. Any
+moral weakness which might have been his had been so obscured by long
+years of success and prosperity, that no one knowing him would have
+believed him to be so afflicted. No, in spite of his present condition
+Lablache was a strong man.
+
+But the frightful mental torture he had endured at Retief's hands had
+told its tale. The attack of the last twenty-four hours had been made
+against him alone; at least, so Lablache understood it. Retief's efforts
+were only in his direction; the raider had robbed him of twenty thousand
+head of cattle; he had burnt his beautiful ranch out, in sheer
+wantonness it seemed to the despairing man; what then would be his next
+move if he were not stopped? What else was there of
+his--Lablache's--that the Breed could attack? His store--yes--yes; his
+store! That was all that was left of his property in Foss River. And
+then--what then? There was nothing after that, except, perhaps--except
+his life.
+
+Lablache stirred in his seat and wheezed heavily as he arrived at this
+conclusion. His horrified thoughts were expressed in the look of fear
+that was in his lashless eyes.
+
+His life--yes! That must be the raider's culminating object. Or would he
+leave him that, so that he might further torture him by burning him out
+of Calford. He pondered fearfully, and hard, practical as was his
+nature, the money-lender allowed his imagination to run riot over
+possibilities which surely his cooler judgment would have scoffed at.
+
+Lablache rose hurriedly from his chair. It only wanted a quarter to
+five. Putting his head through the partition doorway he ordered his
+astonished clerks to close up. He felt that he could not--dare not keep
+the store open longer. Then he inspected the private door of his office.
+The spring catch was fast. He locked his safe. All the time he moved
+about fearfully--like some hunted criminal. At last he returned to his
+seat. His bilious eyes roved over the various objects in the room. A
+hunted look was in them. His mind seemed fixed on one thought alone--the
+coming of Retief.
+
+After this he grew more calm. Perhaps the knowledge that the store was
+secure now against any intruder helped to steady his nerves. Then he
+started--was the store secure? He rose again and went to the window to
+put up the shutter. He gazed out towards the Foss River Ranch, and, as
+he gazed, he saw some one riding fast towards the settlement.
+
+The horseman came nearer; the sight fascinated the great man. Now the
+traveler had reached the market place, and was coming on towards the
+store. Suddenly the money-lender recognized in the horseman one of
+Horrocks's troopers, mounted on a horse from John Allandale's stable. A
+wild hope leapt up in his heart. Then, as the man drew nearer and
+Lablache saw the horrified expression of his face, hope went from him,
+and he feared the worst.
+
+The clatter of hoofs ceased outside the office door. Lablache stepped
+heavily forward and threw it open. He stood framed in the doorway as the
+man gasped out his terrible news.
+
+"He's drowned, sir, drowned before our eyes. We tried, but couldn't save
+him. He would go, sir; we tried to persuade him, but he would go. No
+more than fifty yards from the bank, and then down he went. He was out
+of sight in two minutes. It was horrible, sir, and him never uttered a
+sound. I'm going in to Stormy Cloud to report an' get instructions.
+Anything I can do, sir?"
+
+So the worst was realized. For the moment the money-lender could find no
+words. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. His last hope--the
+last barrier between him and the man whom he considered his arch enemy,
+Retief, seemed to have been shattered. He thought not of the horror of
+the policeman's drowning; he felt no sorrow at the reckless man's
+ghastly end. He merely thought of himself. He saw only how the man's
+death affected his personal interests. At last he gurgled out some
+words. He scarce knew what he said.
+
+"There's nothing to be done. Yes--no--yes, you'd better go up to the
+Allandales," he went on uncertainly. "They'll send a rescue party."
+
+The trooper dashed off and Lablache securely fastened the door. Then he
+put the shutter over the window, and, notwithstanding that it was broad
+daylight still, he lit the lamp.
+
+Once more he returned to his protesting chair, into which he almost
+fell. To him this last catastrophe was as the last straw. What was now
+to become of the settlement; what was to become of him? Horrocks gone;
+the troopers withdrawn, or, at least, without a guiding hand, what
+might Retief not be free to do while the settlement awaited the coming
+of a fresh detachment of police. He impotently cursed the raider. The
+craven weakness, induced by his condition of nervous prostration, was
+almost pitiable. All the selfishness which practically monopolized his
+entire nature displayed itself in his terror. He cared nothing for
+others. He believed that Retief was at war with him alone. He believed
+that the raider sought only his wealth--his wealth which his years of
+hard work and unscrupulous methods had laboriously piled up--the wealth
+he loved and lived for--the wealth which was to him as a god. He thought
+of all he had already lost. He counted it up in thousands, and his eyes
+grew wide with horror and despair as the figures mounted up, up, until
+they represented a great fortune.
+
+The long-suffering chair creaked under him as he flung himself back in
+it, his pasty, heavy-jowled face was ghastly under the lash of
+despairing thought. Only a miser, one of those wretched creatures who
+live only for the contemplation of their hoarded wealth, could
+understand the feelings of the miserable man as he lay back in his
+chair.
+
+The man who had thus reduced the money-lender must have understood his
+nature as did the inquisitors of old understand the weaknesses of their
+victims. For surely he could have found no other vulnerable spot in the
+great man's composition.
+
+The first shock of the trooper's news began to pass. Lablache's mind
+began to balance itself again. Such a state of nerves as was his could
+not last and the man remain sane. Possibly the thought that he was still
+a rich man came to his aid. Possibly the thought of hundreds of
+thousands of dollars sunk in perfect securities, in various European
+centers, toned down the grievousness of his losses. Whatever it was he
+grew calmer, and with calmness his scheming nature reasserted itself.
+
+He moved from his seat and helped himself liberally to the whisky which
+was in his cabinet. He needed the generous spirit, and drank it off at
+a gulp. His chair behind him creaked. He started. His ashen face became
+more ghastly in its hue. He looked round fearfully. Then he understood,
+and he wheezed heavily. Once more he sat himself down, and the warming
+spirit steadily did its work.
+
+Suddenly his mind leapt forward, as it were, from its stagnatory
+condition of abject fear. It traveled swiftly, urged by a pursuing dread
+over plans for the future. The guiding star of his thought was safety.
+At all costs he must find safety for his property and himself. So long
+as Retief was at large there could be no safety for him in Foss River.
+He must get away. He must get away, bearing with him the fruits which
+yet remained to him of his life's toil. He had contemplated retiring
+before. His retirement from business would mean ruin to many of those
+who had borrowed from him he knew, and to those on whose property he
+held mortgages as security. But that could not be helped. He was not
+going to allow himself to suffer through what he considered any
+humanitarian weakness. Yes, he would retire--get away from the reach of
+Retief and his companions, and--ah!
+
+His thoughts merged into another channel--a channel which, under the
+stress of his terrors, had for the moment been obscured. He suddenly
+thought of the Allandales. Here for the instant was a stumbling block.
+Or should he renounce his passion for Jacky? He drummed thoughtfully
+with his finger-tips upon the arms of his chair.
+
+No, why should he give her up? Something of his old nerve was returning.
+He held all the cards. He knew he could, by foreclosing, ruin "Poker"
+John. Why should he give the girl up, and see her calmly secured by that
+cursed Bunning-Ford? His bilious eyes half closed and his sparse
+eyebrows drew together in a deep concentration of thought. Then
+presently his forehead smoothed, and his lashless eyes gleamed wickedly.
+He rose heavily to his feet and labored to and fro across the floor,
+with his beefy hands clasped behind his back.
+
+"Excellent--excellent," he muttered. "The devil could not have designed
+it better." There was a grim, evil smile about his mouth. "Yes, a
+game--a game. It will tickle old John, and will carry out my purpose.
+The mortgages which I hold on his property are nothing to me. Most are
+gambling debts. For the rest the interest has covered the principal. I
+have seen to that. But he is in arrears now. Good--good. Their
+abandonment represents no loss to me--ha, ha." He chuckled mirthlessly.
+"A little game--a gentle flutter, friend John, and the stakes all in my
+favor. But I do not intend to lose. Oh, no. The girl might outwit me if
+I lost. I shall win, and on my wedding day I shall be
+magnanimous--good." He unclasped his hands and rubbed them together
+gleefully.
+
+"The uncle's consent--his persuasion. She will do as he wishes or--ruin.
+It is capital--a flawless scheme. And then to leave Foss River forever.
+God, but I shall be glad," with a return to his nervous dread. He looked
+about him; eagerly, his great paunchy figure pictured grotesquely
+beneath the pasty, fearful face.
+
+"Now to see John," he went on, after a moment's pause. "How--how? I wish
+I could get him here. It would be better here. There would be no chance
+of listening ears. Besides, there is the whisky." He paused again
+thinking. "Yes," he muttered presently. "Delay would be bad. I must not
+give my enemy time. At once--at once. Nothing like doing things at once.
+I must go to John. But--" and he looked dubiously at the darkened
+window--"when I return it will be dark." He picked up his other revolver
+and slipped it into his breast pocket. "Yes, yes, I am getting
+foolish--old. Come along, my friend, we will go."
+
+He seized his hat and went to the office door. He paused with his hand
+upon the lock, and gave one final look round, then he turned the spring
+with a great show of determination and passed out.
+
+It was a different man who left the little office on that evening to
+the man who had for so many years governed the destinies of the smaller
+ranching world of the Foss River district. He had truly said that he was
+getting old--but he did not quite realize how old. His enemies had done
+their work only too well. The terrible consequences of the night of
+terror were to have far-reaching results.
+
+The money-lender set out for the ranch bristling with eagerness to put
+into execution his hastily conceived plan.
+
+He found the old rancher in his sanctum. He was alone brooding over the
+calamity which had befallen the police-officer, and stimulating his
+thought with silent "nippings" at the whisky bottle. He was in a
+semi-maudlin condition when the money-lender entered, and greeted his
+visitor with almost childish effusion.
+
+Lablache saw and understood, and a sense of satisfaction came to him. He
+hoped his task would be easier than he had anticipated. His evil nature
+rose to the occasion, and, for the moment, his own troubles and fears
+were forgotten. There was a cat-like licking of the lips as he
+contemplated the pitiful picture before him.
+
+"Well?" said old John, looking into the other's face with a pair of
+bloodshot eyes, as he re-seated himself after rising to greet his
+visitor. "Well, poor Horrocks has gone--gone, a victim to his sense of
+duty. I guess, Lablache, there are few men would have shown his grit."
+
+"Grit! Yes, that's so." The money-lender had been about to say "folly,"
+but he checked himself. He did not want to offend "Poker" John--now.
+
+"Yes. The poor fellow was too good for his work," he went on, in tones
+of commiseration. "'Tis indeed a catastrophe, John. And we are the
+losers by it. I regret now that I did not altogether agree with him when
+he first came amongst us."
+
+John wagged his head. He looked to be near weeping. His companion's
+sympathetic tone was almost too much for his whisky-laden heart. But
+Lablache had not come here to discuss Horrocks, or, for that matter, to
+sympathize with the gray-headed wreck of manhood before him. He wished
+to find out first of all if anybody was about whom his plans concerned,
+and then to force his proposition upon his old companion. He carefully
+led the rancher to talk of other things.
+
+"The man has gone into Stormy Cloud to report?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And who are they likely to send down in place--ah--of the unfortunate
+Horrocks, think you?"
+
+"Can't say. I guess they'll send a good man. I've asked for more men."
+
+The old man roused somewhat from his maudlin state.
+
+"Ah, that's a good move, John," said the money-lender. "What does Jacky
+think about--these things?"
+
+The question was put carelessly. John yawned, and poured out a "tot" of
+whisky for his friend.
+
+"Guess I haven't seen the child since breakfast. She seemed to take it
+badly enough then."
+
+"Thanks. Aren't you going to have one?" as John pushed the glass over to
+the other.
+
+"Why, yes, man. Never shirk my liquor."
+
+He dashed a quantity of raw spirit into his glass and drank it off.
+Lablache looked on with intense satisfaction. John rose unsteadily, and,
+supporting himself against the furniture as he went, moved over to the
+French window and closed it. Then he lurched heavily back into his chair
+again. His eyes half closed. But he roused at the sound of Lablache's
+guttural tones.
+
+"John, old friend." Muddled as he was the rancher started at the term.
+"I've come to have a long chat with you. This morning I could not talk.
+I was too broken up--too, too ill. Now listen and you shall hear of all
+that happened last night, and then you will the better be able to judge
+of the wisdom of my decision."
+
+John listened while Lablache told his tale. The money-lender embellished
+the facts slightly so as the further to emphasize them. Then, at the
+conclusion of the story of his night's doings, he went on to matters
+which concerned his future.
+
+"Yes, John, there is nothing left for me but to get out of the country.
+Mind this is no sudden determination, but a conclusion I have long
+arrived at. These disastrous occurrences have merely hastened my plans.
+I am not so young as I was, you know," with an attempt at lightness, "I
+simply dare not stay. I fear that Retief will soon attempt my life."
+
+He sighed and looked for sympathy. Old John seemed too amazed to
+respond. He had never realized that the raider's efforts were solely
+directed against Lablache. The money-lender went on.
+
+"And that is why I have come to you, my oldest friend. I feel you should
+be the first to know, for with no one else in Foss River have I lived in
+such perfect harmony. And, besides, you are the most interested."
+
+The latter was in the tone of an afterthought. Strangely enough the
+careless way in which it was spoken carried the words well home to the
+rancher's muddled brain.
+
+"Interested?" he echoed blankly.
+
+"Why, yes. Certainly, you are the most interested. I mean from a
+monetary point of view. You see, the winding up of my business will
+entail the settling up of--er--my books."
+
+"Yes," said the rancher, with doubtful understanding.
+
+"Then--er--you take my meaning as to how--er--how you are interested."
+
+"You mean my arrears of interest," said the gray headed old man dazedly.
+
+"Just so. You will have to meet your liabilities to me."
+
+"But--but--man." The rancher spluttered for words to express himself.
+This was the money-lender's opportunity, and he seized it.
+
+"You see, John, in retiring from business I am not altogether a free
+agent. My affairs are so mixed up with the affairs of the Calford Trust
+and Loan Co. The period of one of your mortgages, for instance--the
+heaviest by the way--has long expired. It has not been renewed. The
+interest is in arrears. This mortgage was arranged by me jointly with
+the Calford Trust and Loan Co. When I retire it will have to be settled
+up. Being my friend I have not troubled you, but doubtless the company
+will have no sentiment about it. As to the others--they are debts of
+honor. I am afraid these things will have to be settled, John. You will
+of course be able to meet them."
+
+"God, man, but I can't," old John exclaimed. "I tell you I can't," he
+reiterated in a despairing voice.
+
+Lablache shrugged his obese shoulders.
+
+"That is unfortunate."
+
+"But, Lablache," said the rancher, gazing with drunken earnestness into
+the other's face, "you will not press me?"
+
+"Why no, John, of course not--as far as I am personally concerned. I
+have known you too long and have too much regard for you and--yours. No,
+no, John; of course I am a business man, but I am still your friend.
+Friend--eh, John--your friend."
+
+The rancher looked relieved, and helped himself to more whisky. Lablache
+joined him and they silently drank. "Poker" John set his empty glass
+down first.
+
+"Now Lablache, about these lia-liabilities," he said with a hiccup.
+"What is to be done?"
+
+"Well, John, we are friends of such old standing that I don't like to
+retire from business and leave you inconvenienced by the process.
+Perhaps there is a way by which I can help you. I am very wealthy--and
+wealth is a great power--a very great power even in this wild region.
+Now, suppose I make a proposition to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"POKER" JOHN ACCEPTS
+
+
+"Ah!"
+
+There was a tone of drunken suspicion about the exclamation which was
+not lost on Lablache.
+
+"If you were suddenly called upon to meet your liabilities to me, John,"
+said the money-lender, smiling, "how would it fix you?"
+
+"It would mean ruin," replied John, hoarsely.
+
+Lablache cleared his throat and snorted. Then he smiled benignly upon
+his old companion.
+
+"That's just what I thought. Well, you're not going to be ruined--by me.
+I'm going to burn the mortgages and settle with the Calford Trust and
+Loan Co. myself--"
+
+The rancher feared to trust his ears.
+
+"That is if you are willing to do something for me."
+
+In his eager hope John Allandale had leant forward so as not to miss a
+word the other said. Now, however, he threw himself back in his chair.
+Some suspicion was in his mind. It might have been intuition. He knew
+Lablache well. He laughed cynically.
+
+"That's more like you," he said roughly.
+
+"One moment," said the money-lender; the smile vanished from his lips.
+"Fair play's good medicine. We'll wipe out your debts if you'll tell
+your niece that you want her to marry me."
+
+"I'll--I'll--"
+
+"Hold on, John," with upraised hand, as the old man purpled with rage
+and started to shout.
+
+"I'll see you damned first!" The rancher had lurched on to his feet and
+his fist came down with a crash upon the corner of the table. Lablache
+remained unmoved.
+
+"Tut tut, man; now listen to me." The old man towered unsteadily over
+him. "I can't understand your antipathy to me as a husband for your
+niece. Give your consent--she'll do it for you--and, on my wedding day,
+I burn those mortgages and I'll settle 100,000 dollars upon Jacky.
+Besides this I'll put 200,000 dollars into your ranch to develop it, and
+only ask ten per cent, of the profits. Can I speak fairer? That girl of
+yours is a good girl, John; too good to kick about the prairie. I'll
+make her a good husband. She shall do as she pleases, live where she
+likes. You can always be with us if you choose. It's no use being riled,
+John, I'm making an honest proposition."
+
+The rancher calmed. In the face of such a generous proposal he could not
+insult Lablache. He was determined, however. It was strange, perhaps,
+that any suggestion for his influence to be used in his niece's choice
+of a husband should have such a violent effect upon him. But "Poker"
+John was a curious mixture of weakness and honor. He loved his niece
+with a doting affection. She was the apple of his eye. To him the
+thought of personal benefit at the cost of her happiness was a
+sacrilege. Lablache understood this. He knew that on this point the
+rancher's feelings amounted to little short of mania. And yet he
+persisted. John's nature was purely obstinate, and obstinacy is
+weakness. The money-lender knew that obstinacy could be broken down by
+steady determination. However, time, with him, was now everything. He
+must clinch the deal with as little delay as possible if he would escape
+from Foss River and the ruinous attacks of Retief. This thought was ever
+present with him and urged him to press the old man hard. If John
+Allandale would not be reasonable, he, Lablache, must force an
+acceptance of his terms from him.
+
+The rancher was mollified. His dulled brain suddenly saw a loop-hole of
+escape.
+
+"I guess you mean well enough, Lablache. But say, ask the child
+yourself."
+
+The other shook his massive head.
+
+"I have--she has refused."
+
+"Then why in thunder do you come to me?"
+
+The angry light was again in the rancher's bloodshot eyes.
+
+"Why? Because she will marry me if you choose. She can't refuse--she
+dare not."
+
+"Then, by God, I'll refuse for her--"
+
+He paused disconcertedly in his wrath. Lablache's cold eyes fixed him
+with their icy stare.
+
+"Very well, John," said Lablache, with a contemptuous shrug. "You know
+the inevitable result of such a hasty decision. It means ruin to
+you--beggary to that poor child." His teeth snapped viciously. Then he
+smiled with his mouth. "I can only put your de--refusal down to utter,
+unworthy selfishness."
+
+"Not selfishness, Lablache--not that. I would sacrifice everything in
+the world for that child--"
+
+"Except your own pleasure--your own personal comforts. Bah, man!" with
+scathing contempt, "your object must be plain to the veriest fool. You
+do not wish to lose her. You fear to lose your best servant lest in
+consequence you find the work of the ranch thrust upon your own hands.
+You would have no time to indulge your love of play. You would no longer
+be able to spend three parts of your time in 'old man' Smith's filthy
+bar. Your conduct is laudable, John--it is worthy of you."
+
+Lablache had expected another outburst of anger, but John only leered in
+response to the other's contempt. Drunk as he was, the rancher saw the
+absurdity of the attack.
+
+"Piffle!" he exclaimed. "Now see, when Jacky comes in you shall hear
+what she has to say."
+
+"Poker" John smiled with satisfaction at his own 'cuteness. He felt that
+he had outwitted the astute usurer. His simplicity, however, was of an
+infantile order.
+
+"That would be useless." Lablache did not want to be confronted with
+Jacky. "My mind is quite made up. The Calford Trust will begin
+proceedings at once, unless--"
+
+"Unless I give my consent."
+
+The satisfaction had suddenly died out of John Allandale's face. Even in
+his maudlin condition he understood the relentless purpose which backed
+the money-lender's proposal. To his credit be it said that he was
+thinking only of Jacky--the one being who was dearer to him than all
+else in the world. For himself he had no thought--he did not care what
+happened. But he longed to save his niece from the threatened
+catastrophe. His seared old face worked in his distress. Lablache beheld
+the sign, and knew that he was weakening.
+
+"Why force me to extremities, John?" he said presently. "If you would
+only be reasonable, I feel sure you would have no matter for regret.
+Now, suppose I went a step further."
+
+"No--no," weakly. There followed a pause. John Allandale avoided the
+other's eyes. To the old man the silence of the room became intolerable.
+He opened his lips to speak. Then he closed them--only to open them
+again. "But--but what step do you propose? Is--is it honest?"
+
+"Perfectly." Lablache was smiling in that indulgent manner he knew so
+well how to assume. "And it might appeal to you. Pressure is a thing I
+hate. Now--suppose we leave the matter to--to chance."
+
+"Chance?" The rancher questioned the other doubtfully.
+
+"Yes--why not?" The money-lender's smile broadened and he leaned forward
+to impress his hearer the more surely. "A little game--a game of poker,
+eh?"
+
+John Allandale shook his head. He failed to grasp the other's meaning.
+
+"I don't understand," he said, struggling with the liquor which fogged
+his dull brain.
+
+"No, of course you don't," easily. "Now listen to me and I'll tell you
+what I mean." The money-lender spoke as though addressing a wayward
+child. "The stakes shall be my terms against your influence with Jacky.
+If you win you keep your girl, and I cancel your mortgages; if I win I
+marry your girl under the conditions I have already offered. It's wholly
+an arrangement for your benefit. All I can possibly gain is your girl.
+Whichever way the game goes I must pay. Saints alive--but what an old
+fool I am!" He laughed constrainedly. "For the sake of a pretty face I'm
+going to give you everything--but there," seriously, "I'd do more to win
+that sweet child for my wife. What d'you say, John?"
+
+There could be no doubt that Lablache meant what he said, only he might
+have put it differently. Had he said that there was nothing at which he
+would stop to secure Jacky, it would have been more in keeping with the
+facts, He meant to marry the girl. His bilious eyes watered. There was a
+sensual look in them. His heavy lips parted and closed with a sucking
+smack as though expressing appreciation of a tasty morsel.
+
+John remained silent, but into his eyes had leapt a gleam which told of
+the lust of gaming aroused. His look--his whole face spoke for him.
+Lablache had primed his hook with an irresistible bait. He knew his man.
+
+"See," he went on, as the other remained silent, "this is the way we can
+arrange it. We will play 'Jackpots' only. The best seven out of
+thirteen. It will be a pretty game, in which, from an outsider's point
+of view, I alone can be the loser. If I win I shall consider myself
+amply repaid. If I lose--well," with an expressive movement of the
+hands, "I will take my chance--as a sportsman should. I love your niece,
+John, and will risk everything to win her. Now, think of it. It will be
+the sweetest, prettiest gamble. And, too, think of the stake. A fortune,
+John--a fortune for you. And for me a bare possibility of realizing my
+hopes."
+
+The old gambler's last vestige of honor struggled to make itself
+apparent in a negative movement of the head. But the movement would not
+come. His thoughts were of the game, and ere yet the last words of the
+money-lender had ceased to sound, he was captured. The satanic cunning
+of the proposal was lost upon his sodden intellect. It was a
+contemptible, pitiable piece of chicanery with which Lablache sought to
+trap the old man into giving his consent and assistance. The
+money-lender had no intention of losing the game. He knew he must win.
+He was merely resorting to this means because he knew the gambling
+spirit of the rancher. He knew that "Poker" John's obstinacy was proof
+against any direct attack; that no persuasion would induce the consent
+he desired. The method of a boxer pounding the body of an opponent whom
+he knows to be afflicted with some organic weakness of the heart is no
+more cowardly than was Lablache's proposal.
+
+The rancher still remained silent. Lablache moved in his chair; one of
+his great fat hands rested for a moment on John's coat sleeve.
+
+"Now, old friend," he said, with a hoarse, whistling breath. "Shall you
+play--play the game? It will be a grand finale to the
+many--er--comfortable games we have played together. Well? Thirteen
+'Jackpots,' John--yes?"
+
+"And--and if I consented--mind, I only say 'if.'" The rancher's face
+twitched nervously.
+
+"You would stand to win a fortune--and also one for your niece."
+
+"Yes--yes. I might win. My luck may turn."
+
+"It must--you cannot always lose."
+
+"Quite right--I must win soon. It is a great offer--a splendid stake."
+
+"It is."
+
+"Yes--yes, Lablache, I will play. God, man! I will play you!"
+
+Beads of sweat stood on John Allandale's forehead as he literally hurled
+his acceptance at his companion. He accepted in the manner of one who
+knows he is setting at defiance all honesty and right, urged to such a
+course by an all-mastering passion, which he is incapable of resisting.
+
+Strange was the nature of this man. He knew himself as it is given to
+few weak men to know themselves. He knew that he wished to do this
+thing. He knew, also, that he was doing wrong. Moreover he knew that he
+wished to stand by Jacky and be true to his great affection for her. He
+was under the influence of potent spirit, and yet his thoughts and
+judgment were clear upon the subject. His mania had possessed him and he
+would play from choice; and all the while he could hear the voice of
+conscience rating him. He would have preferred to play now, but then he
+remembered the quantity of spirit he had consumed. He must take no
+chances. When he played Lablache he must be sober. The delay of one
+night, however, he knew would bring him agonies of remorse, therefore he
+would settle everything now so that in the throes of conscience he could
+not refuse to play. He feared delay. He feared the vacillation which the
+solitary hours of the night might bring to him. He leant forward and
+thickly urged the money-lender.
+
+"When shall it be? Quick, man, let us have no delay. The time,
+Lablache--the time and place."
+
+Lablache wheezed unctuously.
+
+"That's the spirit I like, John," he said, fingering his watch-chain
+with his fat hands. "To business. The place--er--yes." A moment's
+thought whilst the rancher waited with impatience. "Ah, I know. That
+implement shed on your fifty-acre pasture. Excellent. There is a living
+room in it. You used to keep a man there. It is disused now. It will
+suit us admirably. We can use that room. And the time--"
+
+"To-morrow, Lablache. It must be to-morrow. I could not wait longer,"
+broke in the other, in a voice husky with eagerness and liquor. "After
+dark, when no one can see us going out to the shed. No one must know,
+Lablache, mind--no one. Jacky will not dream of what we are doing."
+
+"Very well. To-morrow, then. At eleven o'clock at night, John. And as
+you say in the meantime--mum."
+
+Lablache was pleased with the rancher's suggestion. It quite fell in
+with his own ideas. Everything must be done quickly now. He must get
+away from Foss River without delay.
+
+"Yes--yes. Mum's the word." "Poker" John indicated his approval with an
+upward leer as Lablache rose from his chair, and a grotesque pursing of
+his lips and his forefinger at the side of his nose. Then he, too,
+struggled to his feet, and, with unsteady hand, poured out two stiff
+"horns" of whisky.
+
+He held one out to the money-lender and took the other himself.
+
+"I drink to the game," he said haltingly. "May--fortune come my way."
+
+Lablache nodded comprehensively and slowly raised his glass.
+
+"Fortune is yours anyhow. Therefore I trust that I win the game."
+
+The two men silently drank. After which Lablache turned to go. He paused
+at the French window and plunged his hand into his coat pocket.
+
+The night was dark outside, and again he became a prey to his moral
+terror of the half-breed raider. He drew out his revolver and opened the
+chamber. The weapon was loaded. Then he turned to old John who was
+staring at him.
+
+"It's risky for me to move about at night, John. I fear Retief has not
+done with me yet. Good-night," and he passed out on to the veranda.
+
+Lablache was the victim of a foreboding. It is a custom to laugh at
+forebodings and set them down to the vagaries of a disordered stomach.
+We laugh too at superstition. Yet how often do we find that the
+portentous significance of these things is actually realized in fact.
+Lablache dreaded Retief.
+
+What would the next twenty-four hours bring forth?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+UNCLE AND NIECE
+
+
+"Poker" John's remorse came swiftly, but not swiftly or strongly enough
+to make him give up the game. After Lablache had taken his departure the
+old rancher sat drinking far into the night. With each fresh potation
+his conscience became less persistent in its protest. He sought no bed
+that night, for gradually his senses left him and he slept where he sat,
+until, towards daybreak he awoke, partially sober and shivering with
+cold. Then he arose, and, wrapping himself in a heavy overcoat, flung
+himself upon a couch, where he again sought sobriety in sleep.
+
+He awoke again soon after daylight. His head was racked with pain. He,
+at first, had only a dim recollection of what had occurred the night
+before. There was a vague sense of something unpleasant having happened,
+but he did not attempt to recall it. He went to his bedroom and douched
+himself with cold water. Then he set out for the kitchen in search of
+coffee with which to slack his burning thirst. It was not until he had
+performed his ablutions that the whole truth of his interview with
+Lablache came back to him. Immediately, now that the effect of the
+liquor had passed off, he became a prey to terrible remorse.
+
+Possibly had Jacky been at hand at that moment, the whole course of
+events might have been altered. Her presence, a good breakfast, and
+occupation might have given him strength to carry out the rejection of
+Lablache's challenge which his remorse suggested. However, none of these
+things were at hand, and John Allandale set out, from force of habit, to
+get his morning "Collins" down at "old man" Smith's. Something to pull
+him together before he encountered his niece, he told himself.
+
+It was a fatal delusion. "Old man" Smith sold drink for gain. The more
+he sold the better he liked it. John Allandale's "Collins" developed, as
+it always did now, into three or four potent drinks. So that by the time
+he returned to the ranch for breakfast his remorse was pushed well into
+the background, and with feverish craving he lodged for the fateful
+game.
+
+In spite of his devotion to the bottle John Allandale usually made a
+hearty breakfast. But this morning the sight of Jacky presiding at his
+table upset him, and he left his food almost untasted. Remorse was
+deadened but conscience was yet unsilenced within him. Every time she
+spoke to him, every time he encountered her piercing gray eyes he felt
+himself to be a worse than Judas. In his rough, exaggerated way he told
+himself that he was selling this girl as surely as did the old slave
+owners sell their slaves in bygone days. He endeavored to persuade
+himself that what he was doing was for the best, and certainly that it
+was forced upon him. He would not admit that his mania for poker was the
+main factor in his acceptance of Lablache's terms. Gradually, however,
+his thoughts became intolerable to him, and when Jacky at last remarked
+on the fact that he was eating nothing and drinking only his coffee, he
+could stand it no longer. He pushed his chair back and rose from the
+table, and, muttering an excuse, fled from the room.
+
+Her uncle's precipitate flight alarmed Jacky. She had seen, as anybody
+with half an eye could see, that he had had a heavy night. The bleared
+eyes, the puffed lids, the working, nervous face were simple enough
+evidence. She knew, too, that he had already been drinking this morning.
+But these things were not new to her, only painful facts which she was
+unable to alter; but his strange behavior and lack of appetite were
+things to set her thinking.
+
+She was a very active-minded girl. It was not her way to sit wondering
+and puzzling over anything she could not understand. She had a knack of
+setting herself to unravel problems which required explanation in the
+most common-sense way. After giving her uncle time to leave the
+house--intuition told her that he would do so--she rose and rang the
+bell. Then she moved to the window while she waited for an answer to her
+summons. She saw the burly figure of her uncle walking swiftly down
+towards the settlement and in the direction of the saloon.
+
+She turned with a sigh as a servant entered.
+
+"Did any one call last night while I was out?" she asked.
+
+"Not for you, miss."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"No, miss, but Mr. Lablache was here. He was with your uncle for a long
+time--in the office."
+
+"Did he come in with Mr. Allandale?"
+
+"Oh, no, miss, the master didn't go out. At least not that I know of.
+Mr. Lablache didn't call exactly. I think he just came straight to the
+office. I shouldn't have known he was there, only I was passing the door
+and heard his voice--and the master's."
+
+"Oh, that will do--just wait a moment, though. Say, is Silas around?
+Just find him and send him right along. Tell him to come to the
+veranda."
+
+The servant departed, and Jacky sat down at a writing-table and wrote a
+note to "Lord" Bill. The note was brief but direct in its tone.
+
+"Can you see me this afternoon? Shall be in after tea."
+
+That was all she put, and added her strong, bold signature to it. Silas
+came to the window and she gave him the note with instructions to
+deliver it into the hands of the Hon. Bunning-Ford.
+
+The letter dispatched she felt easier in her mind.
+
+What had Lablache been closeted with her uncle for? This was the
+question which puzzled--nay, alarmed her. She had seen her uncle early
+on the previous evening, and he had seemed happy enough. She wished now,
+when she had returned from visiting Mrs. Abbot, that she had thought to
+see if her uncle was in. It had become such a custom for him lately to
+be out all the evening that she had long ceased her childhood's custom
+of saying "Good-night" to him before retiring to bed. One thing was
+certain, she felt her uncle's strange behavior this morning was in some
+way due to Lablache's visit. She meant to find out what that visit
+meant.
+
+To this end several plans occurred to her, but in each case were
+abandoned as unsuitable.
+
+"No," she murmured at last, "I guess I'll tax him with it. He'll tell
+me. If Lablache means war, well--I've a notion he'll get a hustling he
+don't consider."
+
+Then she left the sitting-room that she might set about her day's work.
+She would see her uncle at dinner-time.
+
+Foss River had not yet risen to the civilized state of late dinners and
+indigestion. Early rising and hard work demanded early meals and hearty
+feeding. Dinner generally occurred at noon--an hour at which European
+society thinks of taking its _déjeuner_. By rising late society can thus
+avoid what little fresh, wholesome air there is to be obtained in a
+large city. Civilization jibs at early rising. Foss River was still a
+wild and savage country.
+
+At noon Jacky came in to dinner. She had not seen her uncle since
+breakfast. The old man had not returned from the settlement. Truth to
+tell he wished to avoid his niece as much as possible for to-day. As
+dinner-time came round he grew nervous and uncomfortable, and was half
+inclined to accept "old man" Smith's invitation to dine at the saloon.
+Then he realized that this would only alarm Jacky and set her thinking.
+Therefore he plucked up the shattered remains of his moral courage and
+returned to the ranch. When a man looses his last grip on his
+self-respect he sinks with cruel rapidity. "Poker" John told himself
+that he was betraying his niece's affection, and with this assurance he
+told himself that he was the lowest-down cur in the country. The natural
+consequence to a man of his habit and propensity was--drink. The one
+time in his life when he should have refrained from indulgence he drank;
+and with each drink he made the fatal promise to himself that it should
+be the last.
+
+When Jacky saw him swaying as he came up towards the house she could
+have cried out in very anguish. It smote her to the heart to see the old
+man whom she so loved in this condition. Yet when he lurched on to the
+veranda she smiled lovingly up into his face and gave no sign that she
+had any knowledge of his state.
+
+"Come right along, uncle," she said gayly, linking her arm within his,
+"dinner is on. You must be good and hungry, you made such a poor
+breakfast this morning."
+
+"Yes, child, I wasn't very well," he mumbled thickly. "Not very
+well--now."
+
+"You poor dear, come along," and she led him in through the open window.
+
+During the meal Jacky talked incessantly. She talked of everything but
+what had upset her uncle. She avoided any reference to Lablache with
+great care. But, in spite of her cheerfulness, she could not rouse the
+degenerate old man. Rather it seemed that, as the meal progressed, he
+became gloomier. The truth was the girl's apparent light-heartedness
+added to his self-revilings and made him feel more criminal than ever.
+He ate his food mechanically, and he drank glass after glass of ale.
+
+Jacky heaved a sigh of relief when the meal was over. She felt that she
+could not much longer have kept up her light-hearted talk. Her uncle was
+about to move from the table. The girl stayed him with a gesture. He had
+eaten a good dinner and she was satisfied. Now she would question him.
+
+It is strange how a woman, in whatever relationship she may stand, loves
+to see a man eat well. Possibly she understands the effect of a good
+dinner upon the man in whom she centers her affection; possibly it is
+the natural maternal instinct for his well-being.
+
+"Uncle, what did Lablache come to see you for last night?"
+
+The question was abrupt. It had the effect of bringing the rancher back
+to his seat with a drunken lurch.
+
+"Eh?" he queried, blinking nervously.
+
+"What did he come for?" Jacky persisted.
+
+The girl could be relentless even with her uncle.
+
+"Lablache--oh--er--talk bus--bus'ness, child--bus'ness," and he
+attempted to get up from his chair again.
+
+But Jacky would not let him go.
+
+"Wait a moment, uncle dear, I want to talk to you. I sha'n't keep you
+long." The old man looked anywhere but at his companion. A cold sweat
+was on his forehead, and his cheek twitched painfully under the steady
+gaze of the girl's somber eyes. "I don't often get a chance of talking
+to you now," she went on, with a slight touch of bitterness. "I just
+want to talk about that skunk, Lablache. I guess he didn't pass the
+evening talking of Retief--and what he intends to do towards his
+capture? Say, uncle, what was it about?"
+
+The old man grasped at the suggestion.
+
+"Yes--yes, child. It was Retief."
+
+He kept his eyes averted. The girl was not deceived.
+
+"All the time?"
+
+"Poker" John remained silent. He would have lied but could not.
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+Her tone was a moral pressure. The old man turned for relief to his
+avuncular authority.
+
+"I must go. You've no right--question me," he stuttered. "I refu--"
+
+"No, uncle, you won't refuse me." The girl had risen and had moved round
+to where the old man sat. She fondled him lovingly and his attempt at
+angry protest died within him. "Come, dear, tell me all about it. You
+are worried and I can help you. What did he threaten you with? I
+suppose he wants money," contemptuously. "How much?"
+
+The old drunkard was powerless to resist her loving appeal.
+
+He was cornered. Another might have lied and so escaped, but John
+Allandale's weakness was such that he had not the courage to resort to
+subterfuge. Moreover, there was a faint spark of honor nickering deep
+down in his kindly heart. The girl's affectionate display was surely
+fanning that spark into a flame. Would the flame grow or would it
+sparkle up for one brief moment and then go out from pure lack of fuel?
+Suddenly something of the truth of the cause of her uncle's distress
+flashed across Jacky's mind. She knew Lablache's wishes in regard to
+herself. Perhaps she was the subject of that interview.
+
+"Uncle, it is I who am causing you this trouble. What is it that
+Lablache wants of me?" She asked the question with her cheek pressed to
+the old man's face. His whisky-laden breath reeked in her nostrils.
+
+Her question took him unawares, and he started up pushing her from him.
+
+"Who--who told you, girl?" His bleared eyes were now turned upon her,
+and they gazed fearfully into hers.
+
+"I thought so," she exclaimed, smiling back into the troubled face. "No
+one told me, uncle, I guess that beast wants to marry me. Say, uncle,
+you can tell me everything right here. I'll help you. He's smart, but he
+can't mate with me."
+
+"But--but--" He struggled to collect his thoughts.
+
+"No 'buts,' dear. I've refused Lablache once. I guess I can size up the
+racket he thinks to play. Money--money! He'd like to buy me, I take it.
+Say, uncle, can't we frolic him some? Now--what did he say?"
+
+"I--can't tell you, child," the old man protested desperately. Then he
+weakened further before those deep, steadfast eyes. "Don't--press me.
+Don'--press me." His voice contained maudlin tears. "I'm a vill'n,
+girl. I'm worse. Don'--look a' me--like that.
+Ja'y--Ja'y--I've--sol'--you!"
+
+The miserable old man flung himself back in his chair and his head bowed
+until his chin sank heavily upon his chest. Two great tears welled into
+his bloodshot eyes and trickled slowly down his seared old cheeks. It
+was a pitiable sight. Jacky looked on silently for a moment. Her eyes
+took in every detail of that picture of despair. She had heard the old
+man's words but took no heed of them. She was thinking very hard.
+Suddenly she seemed to arrive at a decision. Her laugh rang out, and she
+came and knelt at her uncle's side.
+
+"So you've sold me, you old dear, and not a bad thing too. What's the
+price?"
+
+Her uncle raised his bowed head. Her smiling face dried his tears and
+put fresh heart into him. He had expected bitter invective, but instead
+the girl smiled.
+
+Jacky's task now became a simple one. A mere matter of pumping. Sharp
+questions and rambling replies. Bit by bit she learned the story of
+Lablache's proposal and the manner in which an acceptance had been
+forced upon her uncle. She did not relinquish her task until the
+minutest detail had been gleaned. At last she was satisfied with her
+cross-examination.
+
+She rose to her feet and passed her hand with a caressing movement over
+her uncle's head, gazing the while out of the window. Her mind was made
+up. Her uncle needed her help now. That help should be his. She condoned
+his faults; she saw nothing but that which was lovable in his weakness.
+Hers was now the strength to protect him, who, in the days of his best
+manhood had sheltered her from the cruel struggles of a life in the
+half-breed camp, for such, at the death of her impecunious father, must
+otherwise have been her lot.
+
+Now she looked down into that worn, old face, and her brisk,
+business-like tones roused him into new life.
+
+"Uncle, you must meet Lablache and play--the game. For the rest, leave
+it to me. All I ask is--no more whisky to-day. Stay right here and have
+a sleep. Guess you might go an' lie down. I'll call you for supper. Then
+you'll be fit. One thing you must remember; watch that ugly-faced cur
+when you play. See he don't cheat any. I'll tell you more before you
+start out. Come right along now and have that sleep."
+
+The old man got up and the girl led him from the room. She saw him to
+his bedroom and then left him. She decided that, for herself, she would
+not leave the house until she had seen Bill. She must get her uncle
+sober before he went to meet Lablache.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX
+
+
+Foss River Settlement was, at the time, a very small place, and of
+practically no importance. It was brought into existence by the
+neighborhood of one or two large ranches; these ranches employed
+considerable labor. Foss River might be visited by an earthquake, and,
+provided the earthquake was not felt elsewhere, the world would not be
+likely to hear of it for weeks. The newspapers of the Western cities
+were in their infancy, and contented themselves with the news of their
+own towns and feverish criticisms of politics which were beyond the
+understanding of their editors. Progress in the West was very
+slow--almost at a standstill.
+
+After the death of Horrocks the police had withdrawn to report and to
+receive augmentation. No one felt alarm at their absence. The
+inhabitants of Foss River were a self-reliant people--accustomed to look
+to themselves for the remedy of a grievance. Besides, Horrocks, they
+said, had shown himself to be a duffer--merely a tracker, a prairie-man
+and not the man to bring Retief to justice. Already the younger members
+of the settlement and district were forming themselves into a vigilance
+committee. The elders--those to whom the younger looked for a lead in
+such matters--had chosen to go to the police; now the younger of the
+settlement decided to act for themselves.
+
+This was the condition and feeling in Foss River at the time of the
+death of Horrocks; this was the state of affairs when the _insouciant_
+Bill leisurely strolled into the sitting-room at the Foss River Ranch,
+about the time that Joaquina Allandale had finished her tea. With the
+familiarity of the West, Bill entered by the French window. His lazy
+smile was undisturbed. He might have been paying an ordinary call
+instead of answering a summons which he knew must be a matter of
+emergency, for it was understood between these two that private meetings
+were tabooed, except when necessity demanded them.
+
+Jacky's greeting was not reassuring, but her lover's expression remained
+unchanged, except that his weary eyelids further unclosed.
+
+"Guess we're side-tracked, Bill," she said meaningly. "The line's
+blocked. Signals dead against us."
+
+Bill looked into her eyes; then he turned and closed the window,
+latching it securely. The door was closed. His keen eyes noted this.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+The girl shrugged.
+
+"The next twelve hours must finish our game."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes," the girl went on, "it is Lablache's doing. We must settle our
+reckoning with him to-night."
+
+Bill flung himself into a chair.
+
+"Will you explain?--I don't understand. May I smoke?"
+
+Jacky smiled. The request was so unnecessary. She always liked Bill's
+nonchalance. It conveyed such a suggestion of latent power.
+
+"Yes, smoke, Bill; smoke and get your thinking box in order. My yarn
+won't take a deal of time to tell. But it'll take a deal of thought to
+upset Lablache's last move, without--shootin'."
+
+"Um--shooting's an evil, but sometimes--necessary. What's his racket?"
+
+The girl told her story quickly. She forgot nothing. She never allowed
+herself to fall into the womanly mistake of omitting details, however
+small.
+
+Bill fully appreciated her cleverness in this direction. He could trust
+what she said implicitly. At the conclusion of the story he sat up and
+rolled another cigarette.
+
+"And your uncle is upstairs in bed?"
+
+"Yes, when he wakes I guess he'll need a bracer. He'll be sober. He must
+play. Lablache means to win."
+
+"Yes, he means to win. He has had a bad scare."
+
+"What are we going to do?"
+
+The girl eyed her lover keenly. She saw by his manner that he was
+thinking rapidly.
+
+"The game must be interrupted--with another scare."
+
+"What?"
+
+Bill shrugged and laughed.
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Burn him out--his store. And then--"
+
+"And then?" eagerly.
+
+"Retief will be present at the game. Tell him what has happened and--if
+he doesn't leave Foss River--shoot him. Mortgages and all records of
+debts, etc., are in his store."
+
+"Good."
+
+After expressing her approval the girl sat gazing into her lover's face.
+They talked a little longer, then Bill rose to go.
+
+"Eleven o'clock to-night you say is the appointed hour?"
+
+"Yes. I shall meet you at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture."
+
+"Better not."
+
+"Yes, I am going to be there," with a decisive nod. "One cannot be sure.
+You may need me."
+
+"Very well. Good-by, little woman." "Lord" Bill bent and kissed her.
+Then something very like a sigh escaped him. "I think with you this game
+is nearly up. To-night will settle things one way or the other."
+
+"Yes. Trouble is not far off. Say, Bill, when it comes, I want to be
+with you."
+
+Bill looked tenderly down into the upturned face.
+
+"Is that why you insist on coming to-night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Another embrace and Bill left the house.
+
+He sauntered leisurely down the avenue of pines. He kept straight on
+towards the muskeg. Then he turned away from the settlement, and was
+soon lost behind the rising ground which shored the great mire. Once out
+of sight of the house he quickened his pace, gradually swinging away
+from the keg, and heading towards the half-breed camp.
+
+Foss River might have been deserted for all signs of life he
+encountered. The prairie was calmly silent. Not even the call of the
+birds broke the stillness around. The heat of the afternoon had lulled
+all nature to repose.
+
+He strode on swiftly until he came to a small bluff. Here he halted and
+threw himself full length upon the ground in a welcome shade. He was
+within sight of the half-breed camp. He shifted his position until his
+head was in the sun. In this way he could see the scattered dwellings of
+the prairie outcasts. Then he drew a small piece of looking-glass from
+his pocket and held it out in the sun. Turning and twisting it in the
+direction of the camp, as might a child who wishes to dazzle a
+play-fellow's eyes. For several minutes he thus manipulated his
+impromptu heliograph. Then, as he suddenly beheld an answering flash in
+the distance, he desisted, and returned the glass to his pocket. Now he
+drew back in the shade and composed himself to smoke.
+
+The half-closed eyes of the recumbent man gazed steadily out towards the
+camp. He had nearly finished his third cigarette when his quick ears
+caught the sound of footsteps. Instantly he sat up. The steps grew
+louder and then round the sheltering bush came the thick-set form of
+Gautier. He was accompanied by an evil-looking dog which growled sulkily
+as it espied the white man.
+
+"Ugh! Hot walkin'," said the newcomer, by way of greeting.
+
+"Not so hot as it'll be to-night," said the white man, quietly. "Sit
+down."
+
+"More bonfires, boss?" said the half-breed, with a meaning grin, seating
+himself as he spoke.
+
+"More bonfires. See you, I want six of the boys at Lablache's store
+to-night at eleven o'clock. We are going to burn his place. It will be
+quite easy. Lablache will be away, and only his clerks on the premises.
+The cellar underneath the building is lit by barred windows, two under
+the front, and two under the office at the back. All you have to do is
+to break the glass of the window at the back and pour in a couple of
+gallons of coal oil. Then push in some straw, and then light a piece of
+oil-soaked rope and drop it in. The cellar is full of cases of goods and
+barrels of oil. The fire will be unextinguishable. Directly it is well
+lit see that the clerks are warned. We want no lives lost. You
+understand? The stables are adjacent and will catch fire too. I sha'n't
+be there until later. There will be no risk and lots of loot. Savee?"
+
+The cunning face of the half-breed was lit by an unholy grin. He rubbed
+his hands with the unctuous anticipation of a shop-walker. Truly, he
+thought, this white man was a man after his own heart. He wagged his
+head in approval.
+
+"Easy--easy? It is childlike," he said in ecstasy. "I have long thought
+of it, sure. An' thar is a big store of whisky thar, eh, boss?
+Good--good! And what time will you come?"
+
+"When the fire is lit. I go to deal with Lablache. Look you here,
+Gautier, you owe that man a grudge. You would kill him but you don't
+dare. I may pay off that grudge for you. Pay it by a means that is
+better than killing."
+
+"Torture," grinned the half-breed.
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Now see and be off. And don't make any mistake, or we may all swing for
+it. Tell Baptiste he must go over the keg at once and bring Golden Eagle
+to my shack at about half-past ten. Tell him to be punctual. Now scoot.
+No mistakes, or--" and Bill made a significant gesture.
+
+The man understood and hurried away. "Lord" Bill was satisfied that his
+orders would be carried out to the letter. The service he demanded of
+this man was congenial service, in so far that it promised loot in
+plenty and easily acquired. Moreover, the criminal side of the
+half-breed's nature was tickled. A liberal reward for honesty would be
+less likely to secure good service from such as Gautier than a chance of
+gain for shady work. It was the half-breed nature.
+
+After the departure of the half-breed, Bill remained where he was for
+some time. He sat with his hands clasped round his knees, gazing
+thoughtfully out towards the camp. He was reviewing his forces and
+mentally struggling to penetrate the pall which obscured the future. He
+felt himself to be playing a winning game; at least, that his vengeance
+and chastisement of Lablache had been made ridiculously easy for him.
+But now he had come to that point when he wondered what must be the
+outcome of it all as regarded himself and the girl he loved. Would his
+persecution drive Lablache from Foss River to the security of Calford,
+Where he would be able to follow him and still further prosecute his
+inexorable vengeance? Or would he still choose to remain? He knew
+Lablache to be a strong man, but he also knew, by the money-lender's
+sudden determination to force Jacky into marriage with him, that he had
+received a scare. He could not decide on the point. But he inclined to
+the belief that Lablache must go after to-night. He would not spare him.
+He had yet a trump card to play. He would be present at the game of
+cards, and--well, time would show.
+
+He threw away his mangled cigarette end and rose from the ground. One
+glance of his keen eyes told him that no one was in sight. He strolled
+out upon the prairie and made his way back to the settlement. He need
+not have troubled himself about the future. The future would work itself
+out, and no effort of his would be capable of directing its course. A
+higher power than man's was governing the actions of the participants in
+the Foss River drama.
+
+For the rest of the day "Lord" Bill moved about the settlement in his
+customary idle fashion. He visited the saloon; he showed himself on the
+market-place. He discussed the doings of Retief with the butcher, the
+smith, Dr. Abbot. And, as the evening closed in and the sun's power
+lessened, he identified himself with others as idle as himself, and
+basked in the warmth of its feeble, dying rays.
+
+When darkness closed in he went to his shack and prepared his evening
+meal with a simple directness which no thoughts of coming events could
+upset. Bill was always philosophical. He ate to live, and consequently
+was not particular about his food. He passed the evening between thought
+and tobacco, and only an occasional flashing of his lazy eyes gave any
+sign of the trend of his mental effort.
+
+At a few minutes past ten he went into his bedroom and carefully locked
+the door. Then he drew from beneath his bed a small chest; it was an
+ammunition chest of very powerful make. The small sliding lid was
+securely padlocked. This he opened and drew from within several articles
+of apparel and a small cardboard box.
+
+Next he divested himself of his own tweed clothes and donned the things
+he had taken from the box. These consisted of a pair of moleskin
+trousers, a pair of chaps, a buckskin shirt and a battered Stetson hat.
+From the cardboard box he took out a tin of greasy-looking stuff and a
+long black wig made of horse hair. Stepping to a glass he smeared his
+face with the grease, covering his own white flesh carefully right down
+to the chest and shoulders, also his hands. It was a brownish ocher and
+turned his skin to the copperish hue of the Indian. The wig was
+carefully adjusted and secured by sprigs to his own fair hair. This,
+with the hat well jammed down upon his head, completed the
+transformation, and out from the looking-glass peered the strong, eagle
+face of the redoubtable half-breed, Retief.
+
+He then filled the chest with his own clothes and relocked it. Suddenly
+his quick ear caught the sound of some one approaching. He looked at his
+watch; it wanted two minutes to half-past ten. He waited.
+
+Presently he heard the rattle of a stick down the featheredged boarding
+of the outer walls of the hut. He picked up his revolver belt and
+secured it about his waist, and then, putting out the light, unlocked
+the back door which opened out of his bedroom.
+
+A horse was standing outside, and a man held the bridle reins looped
+upon his arm.
+
+"That you, Baptiste?"
+
+"Yup."
+
+"Good, you are punctual."
+
+"It's as well."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I go to join the boys," the half-breed said slowly. "And you?"
+
+"I--oh, I go to settle a last account with Lablache," replied Bill, with
+a mirthless laugh.
+
+"Where?"
+
+Bill looked sharply at the man. He understood the native distrust of the
+Breed. Then he nodded vaguely in the direction of the Foss River Ranch.
+
+"Yonder. In old John's fifty-acre pasture. Lablache and John meet at the
+tool-shed there to-night. Why?"
+
+"And you go not to the fire?" Baptiste's voice had a surprised ring in
+it.
+
+"Not until later. I must be at the meeting soon after eleven."
+
+The half-breed was silent for a minute. He seemed to be calculating. At
+length he spoke. His words conveyed resolve.
+
+"It is good. Guess you may need assistance. I'll be there--and some of
+the boys. We ain't goin' ter interfere--if things goes smooth."
+
+Bill shrugged.
+
+"You need not come."
+
+"No? Nuthin' more?"
+
+"Nothing. Keep the boys steady. Don't burn the clerks in the store."
+
+"No."
+
+"S'long."
+
+"S'long."
+
+"Lord" Bill vaulted into the saddle, and Golden Eagle moved restively
+away.
+
+It was as well that Foss River was a sleepy place. "Lord" Bill's
+precautions were not elaborate. But then he knew the ways of the
+settlement.
+
+Dr. Abbot chanced to be standing in the doorway of the saloon. Bill's
+shack was little more than a hundred yards away. The doctor was about to
+step across to see if he were in, for the purpose of luring his friend
+into a game. Poker was not so plentiful with the doctor now since Bill
+had dropped out of Lablache's set.
+
+He saw the dim outline of a horseman moving away from the back of "Lord"
+Bill's hut. His curiosity was aroused. He hastened across to the shack.
+He found it locked up, and in darkness. He turned away wondering. And as
+he turned away he found himself almost face to face with Baptiste. The
+doctor knew the man.
+
+"Evening, Baptiste."
+
+"Evening," the man growled.
+
+The doctor was about to speak again but the man hurried away.
+
+"Damned funny," the medical man muttered. Then he moved off towards his
+own home. Somehow he had forgotten his wish for poker.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE LAST GAMBLE
+
+
+The fifty-acre pasture was situated nearly a quarter of a mile away to
+the left of John Allandale's house. Then, too, the whole length of it
+must be crossed before the implement shed be reached. This would add
+another half a mile to the distance, for the field was long and narrow,
+skirting as it did the hay slough which provided the ranch with hay. The
+pasture was on the sloping side of the slough, and on the top of the
+ridge stretched a natural fence of pines nearly two miles in extent.
+
+The shed was erected for the accommodation of mowers, horse-rakes, and
+the necessary appurtenances for haying. At one end, as Lablache had
+said, was a living-room. It was called so by courtesy. It was little
+better than the rest of the building, except that there was a crazy door
+to it--also a window; a rusty iron stove, small, and--when a fire burned
+in it--fierce, was crowded into a corner. Now, however, the stove was
+dismantled, and lengths of stove pipe were littered about the floor
+around it. A rough bed, supported on trestles, and innocent of bedding,
+filled one end of this abode; a table made of packing cases, and two
+chairs of the Windsor type, one fairly sound and the other minus a back,
+completed the total of rude furniture necessary for a "hired man's"
+requirements.
+
+A living-room, the money-lender had said, therefore we must accept his
+statement.
+
+A reddish, yellow light from a dingy oil lamp glowed sullenly, and added
+to the cheerlessness of the apartment. At intervals black smoke belched
+from the chimney top of the lamp in response to the draughts which blew
+through the sieve-like boarding of the shed. One must feel sorry for
+the hired man whose lot is cast in such cheerless quarters.
+
+It was past eleven. Lablache and John Allandale were seated at the
+table. The lurid light did not improve the expression of their faces.
+
+"Poker" John was eager--keenly eager now that Jacky had urged him to the
+game. Moreover, he was sober--sober as the proverbial "judge." Also he
+was suspicious of his opponent. Jacky had warned him. He looked very old
+as he sat at that table. His senility appeared in every line of his
+face; in every movement of his shaking hands; in every glance of his
+bleared eyes.
+
+Lablache, also, was changed slightly, but it was not in the direction of
+age; he showed signs of elation, triumph. He felt that he was about to
+accomplish the object which had long been his, and, at the same time,
+outwit the half-breed who had so lately come into his life, with such
+disastrous results to his, the money-lender's, peaceful enjoyment of his
+ill-gotten wealth.
+
+Lablache turned his lashless eyes in the direction of the window. It was
+a square aperture of about two feet in extent.
+
+"We are not likely to be interrupted," he said wheezily, "but it never
+does to chance anything. Shall we cover the window? A light in this room
+is unusual--"
+
+"Yes, let us cover it." "Poker" John chafed at the delay. "No one is
+likely to come this way, though."
+
+Lablache looked about for something which would answer his purpose.
+There was nothing handy. He drew out his great bandanna and tried it. It
+exactly covered the window. So he secured it. It would serve to darken
+the light to any one who might chance to be within sight of the shed. He
+returned to his seat. He bulged over it as he sat down, and its legs
+creaked ominously.
+
+"I have brought three packs of cards," he said, laying them upon the
+table.
+
+"So have I."
+
+"Poker" John looked directly into the other's bilious eyes.
+
+"Ah--then we have six packs."
+
+"Yes--six."
+
+"Whose shall we--" Lablache began.
+
+"We'll cut for it. Ace low. Low wins."
+
+The money-lender smiled at the rancher's eagerness. The two men cut in
+silence. Lablache cut a "three"; "Poker" John, a "queen."
+
+"We will use your cards, John." The money-lender's face expressed an
+unctuous benignity.
+
+The rancher was surprised, and his tell-tale cheek twitched
+uncomfortably.
+
+"For deal," said Lablache, stripping one of John's packs and passing it
+to his companion. The rancher shuffled and cut--Lablache cut. The deal
+went to the latter.
+
+"We want something to score on," the money-lender said. "My memorandum
+pad--"
+
+"We'll have nothing on the table, please." John had been warned.
+
+Lablache shrugged and smiled. He seemed to imply that the precaution was
+unnecessary. "Poker" John was in desperate earnest.
+
+"A piece of chalk--on the wall." The rancher produced the chalk and set
+it on the floor close by the wall and returned to his seat.
+
+Lablache shuffled clumsily. His fingers seemed too gross to handle
+cards. And yet he could shuffle well, and his fingers were, in reality,
+most sensitive. John Allandale looked on eagerly. The money-lender,
+contrary to his custom, dealt swiftly--so swiftly that the bleared eyes
+of his opponent could not follow his movements.
+
+Both men picked up their cards. The old instincts of poker were not so
+pronounced in the rancher as they used to be. Doubtless the game he was
+now playing did not need such mask-like impassivity of expression as an
+ordinary game would. After all, the pot opened, it merely became a
+question of who held the best hand. There would be no betting. John's
+eyes lighted up as he glanced at the index numerals. He held two
+"Jacks."
+
+"Can you?" Lablache's husky voice rasped in the stillness.
+
+"Yes."
+
+The dealer eyed his opponent for a second. His face was that of a graven
+image.
+
+"How many?"
+
+"Three."
+
+The money-lender passed three cards across the table. Then he discarded
+two cards from his own hand and drew two more.
+
+"What have you got?" he asked, with a grim pursing of his sagging lips.
+
+"Two pairs. Jacks up."
+
+Lablache laid his own cards on the table, spreading them out face
+upwards for the rancher to see. He held three "twos."
+
+"One to you," said John Allandale; and he went and chalked the score
+upon the wall.
+
+There was something very business-like about these two men when they
+played cards. And possibly it was only natural. The quiet way in which
+they played implied the deadly earnestness of their game. Their
+surroundings, too, were impressive when associated with the secrecy of
+their doings.
+
+Each man meant to win, and in both were all the baser passions fully
+aroused. Neither would spare the other, each would do his utmost.
+Lablache was sure. John was consumed with a deadly nervousness. But John
+Allandale at cards was the soul of honor. Lablache was confident in his
+superior manipulation--not play--of cards. He knew that, bar accidents,
+he must win. The mystery of being able to deal himself "three of a kind"
+and even better was no mystery to him. He preferred his usual
+method--the method of "reflection," as he called it; but in the game he
+was now playing such a method would be useless for obvious reasons.
+First of all, knowing his opponent's cards would only be of advantage
+where betting was to ensue. Now he needed the clumsier, if more sure,
+method of dealing himself a hand. And he did not hesitate to adopt it.
+
+"Poker" John dealt The pot was not opened. Lablache again dealt. Still
+the hand passed without the pot being opened. The next time John dealt
+Lablache opened the pot and was promptly beaten. He drew to two queens
+and missed. John drew to a pair of sevens and got a third. The game was
+one all. After this Lablache won three pots in succession and the game
+stood four--one, in favor of the money-lender.
+
+The old rancher's face more than indicated the state of the game. His
+features were gray and drawn. Already he saw his girl married to the man
+opposite to him. For an instant his weakness led him to think of
+refusing to play further--to defy Lablache and bid him do his worst.
+Then he remembered that the girl herself had insisted that he must see
+the game through--besides, he might yet win. He forced his thoughts to
+the coming hand. He was to deal.
+
+The deal, as far as he was concerned, was successful, His spirits rose.
+
+Four--two.
+
+Lablache took up the cards to deal. John was watching as though his life
+depended upon what he saw. Lablache's clumsy shuffle annoyed him. The
+lashless eyes of the money-lender were bent upon the cards, but he had
+no difficulty in observing the old man's attention. This unusual
+attention he set down to a natural excitement. He had not the smallest
+idea that the old man suspected him. He passed the cards to be cut. The
+rancher cut them carelessly. He had a natural cut. The pack was nearly
+halved. Lablache had prepared for this.
+
+The hand was dealt, and the money-lender won with three aces, all of
+which he had drawn in a five-card draw. He had discarded a pair of nines
+to make the heavy draw. It was clumsy, but he had been forced to it. The
+position of the aces in the pack he had known, and--well, he meant to
+win.
+
+Five--two.
+
+The clumsiness of that deal was too palpable. Old John suspected, but
+held his tongue. His anger rose, and the drawn face flushed with the
+suddenness of lightning. He was in a dangerous mood. Lablache saw the
+flush, and a sudden fear gripped his heart. He passed the cards to the
+other, and then, involuntarily, his hand dropped into the right-hand
+pocket of his coat. It came in contact with his revolver--and stayed
+there.
+
+The next hand passed without the pot being opened--and the next.
+Lablache was a little cautious. The next deal resulted in favor of the
+rancher.
+
+Five--three.
+
+Lablache again took the cards. This time he meant to get his hand in the
+deal. At that moment the money-lender would have given a cool thousand
+had a bottle of whisky been on the table. He had not calculated on John
+being sober. He shuffled deliberately and offered the pack to be cut.
+John cut in the same careless manner, but this time he did it purposely.
+Lablache picked up the bottom half of the cut. There was a terrible
+silence in the room, and a deadly purpose was expressed in "Poker"
+John's eyes.
+
+The money-lender began to deal. In an instant John was on his feet and
+lurched across the table. His hand fell upon the first card which
+Lablache had dealt to himself.
+
+"The ace of clubs," shouted the rancher, his eyes blazing and his body
+fairly shaking with fury. He turned the card over. It was the ace of
+clubs.
+
+"Cheat!" he shouted.
+
+He had seen the card at the bottom of the pack as the other had ceased
+to shuffle.
+
+There was an instant's thrilling pause. Then Lablache's hand flew to
+his pocket. He had heard the click of a cocking revolver.
+
+For the moment the rancher's old spirit rose superior to his senile
+debility.
+
+"God in heaven! And this is how you've robbed me, you--you bastard!"
+
+"Poker" John's seared face was at that moment the face of a maniac. He
+literally hurled his fury at the money-lender, who was now standing
+confronting him.
+
+"It is the last time, if--if I swing for it. Prairie law you need, and,
+Hell take you, you shall have it!"
+
+He swung himself half round. Simultaneously two reports rang out. They
+seemed to meet in one deafening peal, which was exaggerated by the
+smallness of the room. Then all was silence.
+
+Lablache stood unmoved, his yellow eyeballs gleaming wickedly. For a
+second John Allandale swayed while his face assumed a ghastly hue. Then
+in deathly silence he slowly crumpled up, as it were. No sound passed
+his lips and he sank in a heap upon the floor. His still smoking pistol
+dropped beside him from his nerveless fingers.
+
+The rancher had intended to kill Lablache, but the subtle money-lender
+had been too quick. The lashless eyes watched the deathly fall of the
+old man. There was no expression in them but that of vengeful coldness.
+He was accustomed to the unwritten laws of the prairie. He knew that he
+had saved his life by a hair's-breadth. His right hand was still in his
+coat pocket. He had fired through the cloth of the coat.
+
+Some seconds passed. Still Lablache did not move. There was no remorse
+in his heart--only annoyance. He was thinking with the coolness of a
+callous nerve. He was swiftly calculating the effect of the catastrophe
+as regarded himself. It was the worst thing that could have happened to
+him. Shooting was held lightly on the prairie, he knew, but--Then he
+slowly drew his pistol from his pocket and looked thoughtfully at it.
+His caution warned him of something. He withdrew the empty cartridge
+case and cleaned out the barrel. Then he put a fresh cartridge in the
+chamber and returned the pistol to his pocket. He was very deliberate,
+and displayed no emotion. His asthmatical breathing, perhaps, might have
+been more pronounced than usual. Then he gathered up the cards from
+floor and table, and wiped out the score upon the wall. He put the cards
+in his pocket. After that he stirred the body of his old companion with
+his foot. There was no sound from the prostrate rancher. Then the
+money-lender gently lowered himself to his knees and placed his hand
+over his victim's heart. It was still. John Allandale was dead.
+
+It was now for the first time that Lablache gave any sign of emotion. It
+was not the emotion of sorrow--merely fear--susperstitious fear. As he
+realized that the other was dead his head suddenly turned. It was an
+involuntary movement. And his fishy eyes gazed fearfully behind him. It
+was his first realization of guilt. The brand of Cain must inevitably
+carry with it a sense of horror to him who falls beneath its ban. He was
+a murderer--and he knew it.
+
+Now his-movements became less deliberate. He felt that he must get away
+from that horrid sight. He rose swiftly, with a display of that agility
+which the unfortunate Horrocks had seen. He glanced about the room and
+took his bearings. He strode to the lamp and put it out. Then he groped
+his way to the window and took down his bandanna; stealthily, and with a
+certain horror, he felt his way in the darkness to the door. He opened
+it and passed out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+SETTLING THE RECKONING
+
+
+Jacky stood at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture. She had been standing
+there for some minutes. The night was quite dark; there was no moon. Her
+horse, Nigger, was standing hitched to one of the fence posts a few
+yards away from her and inside the pasture. The girl was waiting for
+"Lord" Bill.
+
+Not a sound broke the stillness of the night as she stood listening. A
+wonderful calmness was over all. From her position Jacky had seen the
+light shining through the window of the implement shed. Now the shed was
+quite dark--the window had been covered. She knew that her uncle and
+Lablache were there. She was growing impatient.
+
+Every now and then she would turn her face from the contemplation of the
+blackness of the distant end of the field to the direction of the
+settlement, her ears straining to catch the sound of her dilatory
+lover's coming. The minutes passed all too swiftly. And her impatience
+grew and found vent in irritable movements and sighs of vexation.
+
+Suddenly her ears caught the sound of distant cries coming from the
+settlement. She turned in the direction. A lurid gleam was in the sky.
+Then, as she watched, the glare grew brighter, and sparks shot up in a
+great wreathing cloud of smoke. The direction was unmistakable. She knew
+that Lablache's store had been fired.
+
+"Good," she murmured, with a sigh of relief. "I guess Bill'll come right
+along now. I wish he'd come. They've been in that shack ten minutes or
+more. Why don't he come?"
+
+The glare of the fire fascinated her, and her eyes remained glued in the
+direction of it. The reflection in the sky was widespread and she knew
+that the great building must be gutted, for there was no means of
+putting the fire out. Then her thoughts turned to Lablache, and she
+smiled as she thought of the surprise awaiting him. The sky in the
+distance grew brighter. She could only see the lurid reflection; a
+rising ground intervened between her and the settlement.
+
+Suddenly against the very heart of the glare the figure of a horseman
+coming towards her was silhouetted as he rode over the rising ground.
+One glance sufficed the girl. That tall, thin figure was
+unmistakable--her lover was hastening towards her. She turned to her
+horse and unhitched the reins from the fence post.
+
+Presently Bill came up and dismounted. He led Golden Eagle through the
+gate. The greeting was an almost silent one between these two. Doubtless
+their thoughts carried them beyond mere greetings. They stood for a
+second.
+
+"Shall we ride?" said Jacky, inclining her head in the direction of the
+shed.
+
+"No, we will walk. How long have they been there?"
+
+"A quarter of an hour, I guess."
+
+"Come along, then."
+
+They walked down the pasture leading their two horses.
+
+"I see no light," said Bill, looking straight ahead of him.
+
+"It is covered--the window, I mean. What are you going to do, Bill?"
+
+The man laughed.
+
+"Lots--but I shall be guided by circumstances. You must remain outside,
+Jacky; you can see to the horses."
+
+"P'r'aps."
+
+The man turned sharply.
+
+"P'r'aps?"
+
+"Yes, one never knows. I guess it's no use fixing things when--guided by
+circumstances."
+
+They relapsed into silence and walked steadily on. Half the distance was
+covered when Jacky halted.
+
+"Will Golden Eagle stand 'knee-haltering,' Bill?"
+
+"Yes, why?"
+
+"We'll 'knee-halter' 'em."
+
+Bill stood irresolute.
+
+"It'll be better, I guess," the girl pursued. "We'll be freer."
+
+"All right," replied Bill. "But," after a pause, "I'd rather you didn't
+come further, little woman--there may be shooting--"
+
+"That's so. I like shootin'. What's that?"
+
+The girl had secured her horse, Bill was in the act of securing his.
+Jacky raised her hand in an attitude of attention and turned her face to
+windward. Bill stood erect and listened.
+
+"Ah!--it's the boys. Baptiste said they would come."
+
+There was a faint rustling of grass near by. Jacky's keen ears had
+detected the stealing sound at once. To others it might have passed for
+the effect of the night breeze.
+
+They listened for a few seconds longer, then Bill turned to the girl.
+
+"Come--the horses are safe. The boys will not show themselves. I fancy
+they are here to watch only--me."
+
+They continued on towards the shed. They were both wrapt in silent
+thought. Neither was prepared for what was to come. They were still
+nearly a quarter of a mile from the building. Its outline was dimly
+discernible in the darkness. And, too, now the light from the oil lamp
+could be seen dimly shining through the red bandanna which was stretched
+over the window.
+
+Now the sound of "Poker" John's voice raised in anger reached them. They
+stood still with one accord. It was astonishing how the voice traveled
+all that distance. He must be shouting. A sudden fear gripped their
+hearts. Bill was the first to move. With a whispered "Wait here," he ran
+forward. For an instant Jacky waited, then, on a sudden impulse, she
+followed her lover.
+
+The girl had just started. Suddenly the sharp report of firearms split
+the air. She came up with Bill, who had paused at the sound.
+
+"Hustle, Bill. It's murder," the girl panted.
+
+"Yes," and he ran forward with set face and gleaming eyes.
+
+Murder--and who was the victim? Bill wondered, and his heart misgave
+him. There was no longer any sound of voices. The rancher had been
+silenced. He thought of the girl behind him. Then his whole mind
+suddenly centered itself upon Lablache. If he had killed the rancher no
+mercy should be shown to him.
+
+Bill was rapidly nearing the building, and it was wrapped in an ominous
+silence.
+
+For a second he again came to a stand. He wanted to make sure. He could
+hear Jacky's speeding footfalls from behind. And he could hear the
+stealthy movements of those others. These were the only sounds that
+reached him. He-went on again. He came to the building. The window was
+directly in front of him. He tried to look into the room but the
+handkerchief effectually hid the interior. Suddenly the light went out.
+He knew what this meant. Turning away from the window he crept towards
+the door. Jacky had come up. He motioned her into the shadow. Then he
+waited.
+
+The door opened and a great figure came out. It was Lablache. Even in
+the darkness Bill recognized him. His heavy, asthmatical breathing must
+have betrayed the money-lender if there had been no other means of
+identification.
+
+Lablache stepped out on to the prairie utterly unconscious of the
+figures crouching in the darkness. He stepped heavily forward. Four
+steps--that was all. A silent spring--an iron grip round the
+money-lender's throat, from behind. A short, sharp struggle--a great
+gasping for breath. Then Lablache reeled backwards and fell to the
+ground with Bill hanging to his throat like some tiger. In the fall the
+money-lender's pistol went off. There was a sharp report, and the bullet
+tore up the ground. But no harm was done. Bill held on. Then came the
+swish of a skirt. Jacky was at her lover's side. She dragged the
+money-lender's pistol from his pocket. Then Bill let go his hold and
+stood panting over the prostrate man. The whole thing was done in
+silence. No word was spoken.
+
+Lablache sucked in a deep whistling breath. His eyes rolled and he
+struggled into a sitting posture. He was gazing into the muzzle of
+Bill's pistol.
+
+"Get up!" The stern voice was unlike Bill's, but there was nothing of
+the twang of Retief about it.
+
+The money-lender stared, but did not move--neither did he speak. Jacky
+had darted into the hut. She had gone to light the lamp and learn the
+truth.
+
+"Get up!" The chilling command forced the money-lender to rise. He saw
+before him the tall, thin figure of his assailant.
+
+"Retief!" he gasped, and then stood speechless.
+
+Now the re-lighted lamp glowed through the doorway. Bill pointed towards
+the door.
+
+"Go inside!" The relentless pistol was at Lablache's head.
+
+"No--no! Not inside." The words whistled on a gasping breath.
+
+"Go inside!"
+
+Cowed and fearful, Lablache obeyed the mandate.
+
+Bill followed the money-lender into the miserable room. His keen eyes
+took in the scene in one swift glance. He saw Jacky kneeling beside the
+prostrate form of her uncle. She was not weeping. Her beautiful face was
+stonily calm. She was just looking down at that still form, that drawn
+gray face, the staring eyes and dropped jaw. Bill saw and understood.
+Lablache might expect no mercy.
+
+The murderer himself was now looking in the direction of--but not
+at--the body of his victim. He was gazing with eyes which expressed
+horrified amazement at the sight of the crouching figure of Jacky
+Allandale. He was trying to fathom the meaning of her association with
+Retief.
+
+Bill closed the door. Now he came forward towards the table, always
+keeping Lablache in front of him.
+
+"Is he dead?" Bill's voice was solemn.
+
+Jacky looked up. There was a look as of stone in her somber eyes.
+
+"He is dead--dead."
+
+"Ah! For the moment we will leave the dead. Come, let us deal with the
+living. It is time for a final reckoning."
+
+There was a deadly chill in the tone of Bill's voice--a chill which was
+infinitely more dreadful to Lablache's ears than could any passionate
+outburst have been.
+
+The door opened gently. No one noticed it, so absorbed were they in the
+ghastly matter before them. Wider the door swung and several dusky faces
+appeared in the opening.
+
+The money-lender stood motionless. His gaze ignored the dead. He watched
+the living. He wondered what "Lord" Bill's preamble portended. He shook
+himself like one rousing from some dreadful nightmare. He summoned his
+courage and tried to face the consequences of his act with an outward
+calm. Struggle as he might a deadly fear was ever present.
+
+It was not the actual fear of death--it was the moral dread of something
+intangible. He feared at that moment not that which was to come. It was
+the presence of the dusky-visaged raider and--the girl. He feared mostly
+the icy look on Jacky's face. However, his mind was quite clear. He was
+watching for a loophole of escape. And he lost no detail of the scene
+before him.
+
+A matter which puzzled him greatly was the familiar voice of the raider.
+Retief, as he knew him, spoke with a pronounced accent, but now he only
+heard the ordinary tones of an Englishman.
+
+Bill had purposely abandoned his exaggerated Western drawl. Now he
+removed the scarf from his neck and proceeded to wipe the yellow grease
+from his face and neck. Lablache, with dismay in his heart, saw the
+white skin which had been concealed beneath the paint. The truth
+flashed upon him instantly. And before Bill had had time to remove his
+wig his name had passed the money-lender's lips.
+
+"Bunning-Ford?" he gasped. And in that expression was a world of moral
+fear.
+
+"Yes, Bunning-Ford, come to settle his last reckoning with you."
+
+Bill eyed the murderer steadily and Lablache felt his last grip on his
+courage relax. A terrible fear crept upon him as his courage ebbed.
+Slowly Bill turned his eyes in the direction of the still kneeling
+Jacky. The girl's eyes met his, and, in response to some mute
+understanding which passed between them, she rose to her feet.
+
+Bill did not speak. He merely looked at his pistol. Jacky spoke as if
+answering some remark of his.
+
+"Yes, this is my affair."
+
+Then she turned upon the money-lender. There was no wrath in her face,
+no anger in her tones; only that horrid, stony purpose which Lablache
+dreaded. He wished she would hurl invective at him. He felt that it
+would have been better so.
+
+"The death which you have dealt to that poor old man is too good for
+you--murderer," she said, her deep, somber eyes seeming to pass through
+and through the mountain of flesh she was addressing. "I take small
+comfort in the thought that he had no time to suffer bodily pain. You
+will suffer--later." Bill gazed at her wonderingly. "Liar!--cheat!--you
+pollute the earth. You thought to cozen that poor, harmless old man out
+of his property--out of me. You thought to ruin him as you have ruined
+others. Your efforts will avail you nothing. From the moment Bill
+discovered the use of your memorandum pad"--Lablache started--"your fate
+was sealed. We swore to confiscate your property. For every dollar you
+took from us you should pay ten. But now the matter is different. There
+is a justice on the prairie--a rough, honest, uncorruptible justice. And
+that justice demands your life. You shall scourge Foss River no longer.
+You have murdered. You shall die!--"
+
+Jacky was about to go further with her inexorable denunciation when the
+door of the shed was flung wide, and eight Breeds, headed by Gautier and
+Baptiste, came in. They came in almost noiselessly, their moccasined
+feet giving out scarcely any sound upon the floor of the room.
+
+"Lord" Bill turned, startled at the sudden apparition. Jacky hesitated.
+Here was a contingency which none had reckoned upon. One glance at those
+dark, cruel faces warned all three that these prairie outcasts had been
+silent witnesses of everything that had taken place. It was a supreme
+moment, and the deadly pallor which had assumed a leadenish hue on
+Lablache's face told of one who appreciated the horror of that silent
+coming.
+
+Baptiste stepped over to where Jacky stood. He looked at her, and then
+his gaze passed to the dead man upon the floor. His beady, black eyes
+turned fiercely upon the cowering money-lender.
+
+"Ow!" he grunted. And his tone was the fierce expression of an Indian
+roused to homicidal purpose.
+
+Then he turned back to Jacky, and the look on his face changed to one of
+sympathy and even love.
+
+"Not you, missie--and the white man--no. The prairie is the land of the
+Breed and his forefathers--the Red Man. Guess the law of the prairie'll
+come best from such as he. You are one of us," he went on, surveying the
+girl's beautiful face in open admiration. "You've allus been mostly one
+of us--but I take it y'are too white. No, guess you ain't goin' ter muck
+yer pretty hands wi' the filthy blood of yonder," pointing to Lablache.
+"These things is fur the likes o' us. Jest leave this skunk to us. Death
+is the sentence, and death he's goin' ter git--an' it'll be somethin'
+ter remember by all who behold. An' the story shall go down to our
+children. This poor dead thing was our best frien'--an' he's
+dead--murdered. So, this is a matter for the Breed."
+
+Then the half-breed turned away. Seeing the chalk upon the floor he
+stooped and picked it up.
+
+"Let's have the formalities. It is but just--"
+
+Bill suddenly interrupted. He was angry at the interference of Baptiste.
+
+"Hold on!"
+
+Baptiste swung round. The white man got no further. The Breed broke in
+upon him with animal ferocity.
+
+"Who says hold on? Peace, white man, peace! This is for us. Dare to stop
+us, an'--"
+
+Jacky sprang between her lover and the ferocious half-breed.
+
+"Bill, leave well alone," she said. And she held up a warning finger.
+
+She knew these men, of a race to which she, in part, belonged. As well
+baulk a tiger of its prey. She knew that if Bill interfered his life
+would pay the forfeit. The sanguinary lust of these human devils once
+aroused, they cared little how it be satisfied.
+
+Bill turned away with a shrug, and he was startled to see that he had
+been noiselessly surrounded by the rest of the half-breeds. Had Jacky's
+command needed support, it would have found it in this ominous movement.
+
+Fate had decreed that the final act in the Foss River drama should come
+from another source than the avenging hands of those who had sealed
+their compact in Bad Man's Hollow.
+
+Baptiste turned away from "Lord" Bill, and, at a sign from him, Lablache
+was brought round to the other side of the table--to where the dead
+rancher was lying. Baptiste handed him the chalk and then pointed to the
+wall, on which had been written the score of old John's last gamble.
+
+"Write!" he said, turning back to his prisoner.
+
+Lablache gazed fearfully around. He essayed to speak, but his tongue
+clove to the roof of his mouth.
+
+"Write--while I tell you." The Breed still pointed to the wall.
+
+Lablache held out the chalk.
+
+"I kill John Allandale," dictated Baptiste.
+
+Lablache wrote.
+
+"Now, sign. So."
+
+Lablache signed. Jacky and Bill stood looking on silent and wondering.
+
+"Now," said Baptiste, with all the solemnity of a court official, "the
+execution shall take place. Lead him out!"
+
+At this instant Jacky laid her hand upon the half-breed's arm.
+
+"What--what is it?" she asked. And from her expression something of the
+stony calmness had gone, leaving in its place a look of wondering not
+untouched with horror.
+
+"The Devil's Keg!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG
+
+
+Down the sloping shore to the level of the great keg, the party of
+Breeds--and in their midst the doomed money-lender--made their way.
+Jacky and "Lord" Bill, on their horses, brought up the rear.
+
+The silent _cortège_ moved slowly on, out on to the oozing path across
+the mire. Lablache was now beyond human aid.
+
+The right and wrong of their determination troubled the Breeds not one
+whit. But it was different with the two white people. What thoughts Bill
+had upon the matter he kept to himself. He certainly felt that he ought
+to interfere, but he knew how worse than useless his interference would
+be. Besides, the man should die. The law of Judge Lynch was the only law
+for such as he. Let that law take its course. Bill would have preferred
+the stout tree and a raw-hide lariat. But--and he shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+Jacky felt more deeply upon the subject. She saw the horror in all its
+truest lights, and yet she had flouted her lover's suggestion that she
+should not witness the end. Bad and all as Lablache was--cruel as was
+his nature, murderer though he be, surely no crime, however heinous,
+could deserve the fate to which he was going. She had
+remonstrated--urged Baptiste to forego his wanton cruelty, to deal out
+justice tempered with a mercy which should hurl the money-lender to
+oblivion without suffering--with scarce time to realize the happening.
+Her efforts were unavailing. As well try to turn an ape from its
+mischief--a man-eater from its mania for human blood. The inherent love
+of cruelty had been too long fostered in these Breeds of Foss River.
+Lablache had too long swayed their destinies with his ruthless hand of
+extortion. All the pent-up hatred, stored in the back cells of memory,
+was now let loose. For all these years in Foss River they had been
+forced to look to Lablache as the ruler of their destinies. Was he not
+the great--the wealthy man of the place? When he held up his finger they
+must work--and his wage was the wage of a dog. When money was scarce
+among them, would he not drive them starving from his great store? When
+their children and women were sick, would he not refuse them
+drugs--food--nourishment of any sort, unless the money was down? They
+had not even the privilege of men who owned land. There was no credit
+for the Breeds--outcasts. Baptiste and his fellows remembered all these
+things. Their time had come. They would pay Lablache--and their score of
+interest should be heavy.
+
+On their way from the shed to the muskeg Lablache had seen the
+reflection of the fire at his store in the sky. Gautier had taken
+devilish satisfaction in telling the wretched man of what had been
+done--mouthing the details in the manner of one who finds joy in
+cruelty. He remembered past injuries, and reveled in the money-lender's
+agony.
+
+After a toilsome journey the Breeds halted at the point where the path
+divided into three. Jacky and Bill sat on their horses and watched the
+scene. Then, slowly, something of Baptiste's intention was borne in upon
+them.
+
+Jacky reached out and touched her lover's arm.
+
+"Bill, what are they going to do?"
+
+She asked the question. But the answer was already with her. Her
+companion remained silent. She did not repeat her question.
+
+Then she heard Baptiste's raucous tones as he issued his commands.
+
+"Loose his hands!"
+
+Jacky watched Lablache's face in the dim starlight. It was ghastly. The
+whole figure of the man seemed to have shrunk. The wretched man stood
+free, and yet more surely a prisoner than any criminal in a condemned
+cell.
+
+The uncertain light of the stars showed only the dark expanse of the
+mire upon all sides. In the distance, ahead, the mountains were vaguely
+outlined against the sky; behind and around, nothing but that awful
+death-trap. Jacky had lived all her life beside the muskeg, but never,
+until that moment, had she realized the awful terror of its presence.
+
+Now Baptiste again commanded.
+
+"Prepare for death."
+
+It seemed to the listening girl that a devilish tone of exultation rang
+in his words. She roused herself from her fascinated attention. She was
+about to urge her horse forward. But a thin, powerful hand reached out
+and gripped her by the arm. It was "Lord" Bill. His hoarse whisper sung
+in her ears.
+
+"Your own words--Leave well alone."
+
+And she allowed her horse to stand.
+
+Now she leaned forward in her saddle and rested her elbows upon the horn
+in front of her. Again she heard Baptiste speak. He seemed to be in sole
+command.
+
+"We'll give yer a chance fur yer life--"
+
+Again the fiendish laugh underlaid the words.
+
+"It's a chance of a dog--a yellow dog," he pursued. Jacky shuddered.
+"But such a chance is too good fur yer likes. Look--look, those hills.
+See the three tall peaks--yes, those three, taller than the rest. One
+straight in front; one to the right, an' one away to the left. Guess
+this path divides right hyar--in three, an' each path heads for one of
+those peaks. Say, jest one trail crosses the keg--one. Savee? The others
+end sudden, and then--the keg."
+
+The full horror of the man's meaning now became plain to the girl. She
+heaved a great gasp, and turned to Bill. Her lover signed a warning. She
+turned again to the scene before her.
+
+"Now, see hyar, you scum," Baptiste went on. "This is yer chance. Choose
+yer path and foller it. Guess yer can't see it no more than yer ken see
+this one we're on, but you've got the lay of it. Guess you'll travel the
+path yer choose to--the end. If yer don't move--an' move mighty
+slippy--you'll be dumped headlong into the muck. Ef yer git on to the
+right path an' cross the keg safe, yer ken sling off wi' a whole skin.
+Guess you'll fin' it a ticklish job--mebbe you'll git through. But I've
+a notion yer won't. Now, take yer dog's chance, an' remember, its death
+if yer don't, anyway."
+
+The man ceased speaking. Jacky saw Lablache shake his great head. Then
+something made him look at the mountains beyond. There were the three
+dimly-outlined peaks. They were clear enough to guide him. Jacky,
+watching, saw the expression of his face change. It was as though a
+flicker of hope had risen within him. Then she saw him turn and eye
+Baptiste. He seemed to read in that cruel, dark face a vengeful purpose.
+He seemed to scent a trick. Presently he turned again to the hills.
+
+How plainly the watching girl read the varying emotions which beset him.
+He was trying to face this chance calmly, but the dark expanse of the
+surrounding mire wrung his heart with terror. He could not choose, and
+yet he knew he must do so or--
+
+Baptiste spoke again.
+
+"Choose!"
+
+Lablache again bent his eyes upon the hills. But his lashless lids would
+flicker, and his vision became impaired. He turned to the Breed with an
+imploring gesture. Baptiste made no movement. His relentless expression
+remained unchanged. The wretched man turned away to the rest of the
+Breeds.
+
+A pistol was leveled at his head and he turned back to Baptiste. The
+only comfort he obtained was a monosyllabic command.
+
+"Choose!"
+
+"God, man, I can't." Lablache gasped out the words which seemed
+literally to be wrung from him.
+
+"Choose!" The inexorable tone sent a shudder over the distraught man.
+Even in the starlight the expression of the villain's face was hideous
+to behold.
+
+Baptiste's voice again rang out on the still night air.
+
+"Move him!"
+
+A pistol was pushed behind his ear.
+
+"Do y' hear?"
+
+"Mercy--mercy!" cried the distraught man. But he made no move.
+
+There was an instant's pause. Then the loud report of the threatening
+pistol rang out. It had been fired through the lobe of his ear.
+
+"Oh, God!"
+
+The exclamation was forced from Jacky. The torture--the horror nearly
+drove her wild. She lifted her reins as though to ride to the villain's
+aid. Then something--some cruel recollection--stayed her. She remembered
+her uncle and her heart hardened.
+
+The merciless torture of the Breed was allowed to pass.
+
+To the wretched victim it seemed that his ear-drum must be split for the
+shot had left him almost stone deaf. The blood trickled from the wound.
+He almost leapt forward. Then he stood all of a tremble as he felt the
+ground shake beneath him. A cold sweat poured down his great face.
+
+"Choose!" Baptiste followed the terror-stricken man up.
+
+"No--no! Don't shoot! Yes, I'll go--only--don't shoot."
+
+The abject cowardice the great man now displayed was almost pitiable.
+Bill's lip curled in disdain. He had expected that this man would have
+shown a bold front.
+
+He had always believed Lablache to be, at least, a man of courage. But
+he did not allow for the circumstances--the surroundings. Lablache on
+the safe ground of the prairie would have faced disaster very
+differently. The thought of that sucking mire was too terrible. The oily
+maw of that death-trap was a thing to strike horror into the bravest
+heart.
+
+"Which path?" Baptiste spoke, waving his hand in the direction of the
+mountains.
+
+Lablache moved cautiously forward, testing the ground with his foot as
+he went. Then he paused again and eyed the mountains.
+
+"The right path," he said at last, in a guttural whisper.
+
+"Then start." The words rang out cuttingly upon the night air.
+
+Lablache fixed his eyes upon the distant peak of the mountain which was
+to be his guide. He advanced slowly. The Breeds followed, Jacky and Bill
+bringing up the rear. The ground seemed firm and the money-lender moved
+heavily forward. His breath came in gasps. He was panting, not with
+exertion, but with terror. He could not test the ground until his weight
+was upon it. An outstretched foot pressed on the grassy path told him
+nothing. He knew that the crust would hold until the weight of his body
+was upon it. With every successful step his terror increased. What would
+the next bring forth?
+
+His agony of mind was awful.
+
+He covered about ten yards in this way. The sweat poured from him. His
+clothes stuck to him. He paused for a second and took fresh bearings. He
+turned his head and looked into the muzzle of Baptiste's revolver. He
+shuddered and turned again to the mountains. He pressed forward. Still
+the ground was firm. But this gave him no hope. Suddenly a frightful
+horror swept over him. It was something fresh; he had not thought of it
+before. The fact was strange, but it was so. The path--had he taken the
+wrong one? He had made his selection at haphazard and he knew that there
+was no turning back. Baptiste had said so and he had seen his resolve
+written in his face. A conviction stole over him that he was on the
+wrong path. He knew he was. He must be. Of course it was only natural.
+The center path must be the main one. He stood still. He could have
+cried out in his mental agony. Again he turned--and saw the pistol.
+
+He put his foot out. The ground trembled at his touch. He drew back
+with a gurgling cry. He turned and tried another spot. It was firm until
+his weight rested upon it. Then it shook. He sought to return to the
+spot he had left. But now he could not be sure. His mind was uncertain.
+Suddenly he gave a jump. He felt the ground solid beneath him as he
+alighted. His face was streaming. He passed his hand across it in a
+dazed way. His terror increased a hundredfold. Now he endeavored to take
+his bearings afresh. He looked out at the three mountains. The right
+one--yes, that was it. The right one. He saw the peak, and made another
+step forward. The path held. Another step and his foot went through. He
+drew back with a cry. He tripped and fell heavily. The ground shook
+under him and he lay still, moaning.
+
+Baptiste's voice roused him and urged him on.
+
+"Git on, you skunk," he said. "Go to yer death."
+
+Lablache sat up and looked about. He felt dazed. He knew he must go on.
+Death--death which ever way he turned. God! did ever a man suffer so?
+The name of John Allandale came to his mind and he gazed wildly about,
+fancying some one had whispered it to him in answer to his thoughts. He
+stood up. He took another step forward with reckless haste. He
+remembered the pistol behind him. The ground seemed to shake under him.
+His distorted fancy was playing tricks with him. Another step. Yes, the
+ground was solid--no, it shook. The weight of his body came down on the
+spot. His foot went through. He hurled himself backwards again and
+clutched wildly at the ground. He shuddered and cried out. Again came
+Baptiste's voice.
+
+"Git on, or--"
+
+The distraught man struggled to his feet. He was becoming delirious with
+terror. He stepped forward again. The ground seemed solid and he laughed
+a horrid, wild laugh. Another step and another. He paused, breathing
+hard. Then he started to mutter,--
+
+"On--on. Yes, on again or they'll have me. The path--this is the right
+one. I'll cheat 'em yet."
+
+He strode out boldly. His foot sank in something soft He did not seem to
+notice it. Another step and his foot sank again in the reeking muck.
+Suddenly he seemed to realize. He threw himself back and obtained a
+foothold. He stood trembling. He turned and tried another direction.
+Again he sank. Again he drew back. His knees tottered and he feared to
+move. Suddenly a ring of metal pressed against his head from behind. In
+a state of panic he stepped forward on the shaking ground. It held. He
+paused, then stepped again, his foot coming down on a reedy tuft. It
+shook, but still held. He took another step. His foot sunk quickly, till
+the soft muck oozed round his ankle. He cried out in terror and turned
+to come back.
+
+Baptiste stood with leveled pistol.
+
+"On--on, you gopher. Turn again an' I wing yer. On, you bastard. You've
+chosen yer path, keep to it."
+
+"Mercy--I'm sinking."
+
+"Git on--not one step back."
+
+Lablache struggled to release his sinking limb. By a great effort he
+drew it out only to plunge it into another yielding spot. Again he
+struggled, and in his struggle his other foot slipped from its reedy
+hold. It, too, sank. With a terrible cry he plunged forward. He lurched
+heavily as he sought to drag his feet from the viscid muck. At every
+effort he sank deeper. At last he hurled himself full length upon the
+surface of the reeking mire. He cried aloud, but no one answered him.
+Under his body he felt the yielding crust cave. He clutched at the
+surface grass, but he only plucked the tufts from their roots. They gave
+him no hold.
+
+The silent figures on the path watched his death-struggle. It was
+ghastly--horrible. The expression of their faces was fiendish. They
+watched with positive joy. There was no pity in the hearts of the
+Breeds.
+
+They hearkened to the man's piteous cries with ears deafened to all
+entreaty. They simply watched--watched and reveled in the watching--for
+the terrible end which must come.
+
+Already the murderer's vast proportions were half buried in the slimy
+ooze, and, at every fresh effort to save himself, he sank deeper. But
+the death which the Breeds awaited was slow to come. Slow--slow. And so
+they would have it.
+
+Like some hungry monster the muskeg mouths its victims with oozing
+saliva, supping slowly, and seemingly revels in anticipation of the
+delicate morsel of human flesh. The watchers heard the gurgling mud,
+like to a great tongue licking, as it wrapped round the doomed man's
+body, sucking him down, down. The clutch of the keg seemed like
+something alive; something so all-powerful--like the twining feelers of
+the giant cuttle-fish. Slowly they saw the doomed man's legs disappear,
+and already the slimy muck was above his middle.
+
+The minutes dragged along--the black slime rose--it was at Lablache's
+breast. His arms were outspread, and, for the moment, they offered
+resistance to the sucking strength of the mud. But the resistance was
+only momentary. Down, down he was drawn into that insatiable maw. The
+dying man's arms canted upwards as his shoulders were dragged under.
+
+He cried--he shrieked--he raved. Down, down he went--the mud touched his
+chin. His head was thrown back in one last wild scream. The watchers saw
+the staring eyes--the wide-stretched, lashless lids.
+
+His cries died down into gurgles as the mud oozed over into his gaping
+mouth. Down he went to his dreadful death, until his nostrils filled and
+only his awful eyes remained above the muck. The watchers did not move.
+Slowly--slowly and silently now--the last of him disappeared. Once his
+head was below the surface his limpened arms followed swiftly.
+
+The Breeds reluctantly turned back from the horrid spectacle. The
+fearful torture was done. For a few moments no words were spoken. Then,
+at last, it was Baptiste who broke the silence. He looked round on the
+passion-distorted faces about him. Then his beady eyes rested on the
+horrified faces of Jacky and her lover. He eyed them, and presently his
+gaze dropped, and he turned back to his countrymen. He merely said two
+words.
+
+"Scatter, boys."
+
+The tragedy was over and his words brought down the curtain. In silence
+the half-breeds turned and slunk away. They passed back over their
+tracks. Each knew that the sooner he reached the camp again, the sooner
+would safety be assured. As the last man departed Baptiste stepped up to
+Jacky and Bill, who had not moved from their positions.
+
+"Guess there's no cause to complain o' yer friends," he said, addressing
+Jacky, and leering up into her white, set face.
+
+The girl shivered and turned away with a look of utter loathing on her
+face. She appealed to her lover.
+
+"Bill--Bill, send him away. It's--it's too horrible."
+
+"Lord" Bill fixed his gray eyes on the Breed.
+
+"Scatter--we've had enough."
+
+"Eh? Guess yer per-tickler."
+
+There was a truculent tone in Baptiste's voice.
+
+Bill's revolver was out like lightning.
+
+"Scatter!"
+
+And in that word Baptiste realized his dismissal.
+
+His face looked very ugly, but he moved off under the covering muzzle of
+the white man's pistol.
+
+Bill watched him until he was out of sight. Then he turned to Jacky.
+
+"Well? Which way?"
+
+Jacky did not answer for a moment. She gazed at the mountains. She
+shivered. It might have been the chill morning air--it might have been
+emotion. Then she looked back in the direction of Foss River. Dawn was
+already streaking the horizon.
+
+She sighed like a weary child, and looked helplessly about. Her lover
+had never seen her vigorous nature so badly affected. But he realized
+the terrors she had been through.
+
+Bill looked at her.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Yonder." She pointed to the distant hills. "Foss River is no longer
+possible."
+
+"The day that sees Lablache--"
+
+"Yes--come."
+
+Bill gazed lingeringly in the direction of the settlement. Jacky
+followed his gaze. Then she touched Nigger's flank with her spur. Golden
+Eagle cocked his ears, his head was turned towards Bad Man's Hollow. He
+needed no urging. He felt that he was going home.
+
+Together they rode away across the keg.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Abbot had been up all night, as had most of Foss River. Everybody
+had been present at the fire. It was daylight when it was discovered
+that John Allandale and Jacky were missing. Lablache had been missed,
+but this had not so much interested people. They thought of Retief and
+waited for daylight.
+
+Silas brought the news of "Poker" John's absence--also his niece's.
+Immediately was a "hue and cry" taken up. Foss River bustled in search.
+
+It was noon before the rancher was found. Doctor Abbot and Silas had set
+out in search together. The fifty-acre pasture was Silas's suggestion.
+Dr. Abbot did not remember the implement shed.
+
+They found the old man's body. They found Lablache's confession. Silas
+could not read. He took no stock in the writing and thought only of the
+dead man. The doctor had read, but he said nothing. He dispatched Silas
+for help.
+
+When the foreman had gone Dr. Abbot picked up the black wig which Bill
+had used. He stood looking at it for a while, then he put it carefully
+into his pocket.
+
+"Ah! I think I understand something now," he said, slowly fingering the
+wig. "Um--yes. I'll burn it when I get home."
+
+Silas returned with help. John Allandale was buried quietly in the
+little piece of ground set aside for such purposes. The truth of the
+disappearance of Lablache, Jacky and "Lord" Bill was never known outside
+of the doctor's house.
+
+How much or how little Dr. Abbot knew would be hard to tell. Possibly he
+guessed a great deal. Anyway, whatever he knew was doubtless shared with
+"Aunt" Margaret. For when the doctor had a secret it did not remain his
+long. "Aunt" Margaret had a way with her. However, she was the very
+essence of discretion.
+
+Foss River settled down after its nine days' wonder. It was astonishing
+how quickly the affair was forgotten. But then, Foss River was not yet
+civilized. Its people had not yet learned to worry too much over their
+neighbors' affairs.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+by Ridgwell Cullum
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14482 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14482 ***</div>
+
+<h1>The Story of the Foss River Ranch</h1>
+
+<h2>A Tale of the Northwest</h2>
+
+<h3>By RIDGWELL CULLUM</h3>
+
+<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4>
+
+<h4>&quot;The Law Breakers,&quot; &quot;The Way of the Strong,&quot; &quot;The Watchers of the
+Plains.&quot; Etc.</h4>
+
+<h4>A.L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York</h4>
+
+<h4>Published August, 1903</h4>
+
+<h3>TO MY WIFE</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I - THE POLO CLUB BALL</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II - THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III - A BIG GAME OF POKER</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV - AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V - THE &quot;STRAY&quot; BEYOND THE MUSKEG</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI - WAYS THAT ARE DARK</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII - ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII - TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX - LABLANCHE'S &quot;COUP&quot;</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X - &quot;AUNT&quot; MARGARET REFLECTS</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI - THE CAMPAIGN OPENS</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII - LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII - THE FIRST CHECK</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV - THE HUE AND CRY</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV - AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI - GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII - THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII - THE PUSKY</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX - LABLANCHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX - A NIGHT OF TERROR</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI - HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII - THE DAY AFTER</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII - THE PAW OF THE CAT</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV - &quot;POKER&quot; JOHN ACCEPTS</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV - UNCLE AND NIECE</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI - IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII - THE LAST GAMBLE</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII - SETTLING THE RECKONING</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX - THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG</b></a><br />
+ </p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I" />CHAPTER I - THE POLO CLUB BALL</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was a brilliant gathering&mdash;brilliant in every sense of the word. The
+hall was a great effort of the decorator's art; the people were
+faultlessly dressed; the faces were strong, handsome&mdash;fair or dark
+complexioned as the case might be; those present represented the wealth
+and fashion of the Western Canadian ranching world. Intellectually, too,
+there was no more fault to find here than is usual in a ballroom in the
+West End of London.</p>
+
+<p>It was the annual ball of the Polo Club, and that was a social function
+of the first water&mdash;in the eyes of the Calford world.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dear Mrs. Abbot, it is a matter which is quite out of my province,&quot;
+said John Allandale, in answer to a remark from his companion. He was
+leaning over the cushioned back of the Chesterfield upon which an old
+lady was seated, and gazing smilingly over at a group of young people
+standing at the opposite end of the room. &quot;Jacky is one of those young
+ladies whose strength of character carries her beyond the control of
+mere man. Yes, I know what you would say,&quot; as Mrs. Abbot glanced up into
+his face with a look of mildly-expressed wonder; &quot;it is true I am her
+uncle and guardian, but, nevertheless, I should no more dream of
+interfering with her&mdash;what shall we say?&mdash;love affairs, than suggest
+her incapacity to 'boss' a 'round up' worked by a crowd of Mexican
+greasers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then all I can say is that your niece is a very unfortunate girl,&quot;
+replied the old lady, acidly. &quot;How old is she?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Twenty-two.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Allandale, or &quot;Poker&quot; John as he was more familiarly called by all
+who knew him, was still looking over at the group, but an expression had
+suddenly crept into his eyes which might, in a less robust-looking man,
+have been taken for disquiet&mdash;even fear. His companion's words had
+brought home to him a partial realization of a responsibility which was
+his.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Twenty-two,&quot; she repeated, &quot;and not a relative living except a
+good-hearted but thoroughly irresponsible uncle. That child is to be
+pitied, John.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man sighed. He took no umbrage at his companion's
+brusquely-expressed estimation of himself. He was still watching the
+group at the other end of the room. His face was clouded, and a keen
+observer might have detected a curious twitching of his bronzed right
+cheek, just beneath the eye. His eyes followed the movement of a
+beautiful girl surrounded by a cluster of men, immaculately dressed,
+bronzed&mdash;and, for the most part, wholesome-looking. She was dark, almost
+Eastern in her type of features. Her hair was black with the blackness
+of the raven's wing, and coiled in an ample knot low upon her neck. Her
+features, although Eastern, had scarcely the regularity one expects in
+such a type, whilst her eyes quashed without mercy any idea of such
+extraction for her nationality. They were gray, deeply ringed at the
+pupil with black. They were keen eyes&mdash;fathomless in their suggestion of
+strength&mdash;eyes which might easily mask a world of good or evil.</p>
+
+<p>The music began, and the girl passed from amidst her group of admirers
+upon the arm of a tall, fair man, and was soon lost in the midst of the
+throng of dancers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who is that she is dancing with now?&quot; asked Mrs. Abbot, presently. &quot;I
+didn't see her go off; I was watching Mr. Lablache standing alone and
+disconsolate over there against the door. He looks as if some one had
+done him some terrible injury. See how he is glaring at the dancers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky is dancing with 'Lord' Bill. Yes, you are right, Lablache does
+not look very amiable. I think this would be a good opportunity to
+suggest a little gamble in the smoking-room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing of the sort,&quot; snapped Mrs. Abbot, with the assurance of an old
+friend. &quot;I haven't half finished talking to you yet. It is a most
+extraordinary thing that all you people of the prairie love to call each
+other by nicknames. Why should the Hon. William Bunning-Ford be dubbed
+'Lord' Bill, and why should that sweet niece of yours, who is the
+possessor of such a charming name as Joaquina, be hailed by every man
+within one hundred miles of Calford as 'Jacky'? I think it is both
+absurd and&mdash;vulgar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Possibly you are right, my dear lady. But you can never alter the ways
+of the prairie. You might just as well try to stem the stream of our
+Foss River in early spring as try to make the prairie man call people by
+their legitimate names. For instance, do you ever hear me spoken of by
+any other name than 'Poker' John?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot looked up sharply. A malicious twinkle was in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is reason in your sobriquet, John. A man who spends his substance
+and time in playing that fascinating but degrading game called 'Draw
+Poker' deserves no better title.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Allandale made a &quot;clucking&quot; sound with his tongue. It was his way
+of expressing irritation. Then he stood erect, and glanced round the
+room in search of some one. He was a tall, well-built man and carried
+his fifty odd years fairly well, in spite of his gray hair and the bald
+patch at the crown of his head. Thirty years of a rancher's life had in
+no way lessened the easy carriage and distinguished bearing acquired
+during his upbringing. John Allandale's face and figure were redolent of
+the free life of the prairie. And although, possibly, his fifty-five
+years might have lain more easily upon him he was a man of commanding
+appearance and one not to be passed unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot was the wife of the doctor of the Foss River Settlement and
+had known John Allandale from the first day he had taken up his abode on
+the land which afterwards became known as the Foss River Ranch until
+now, when he was acknowledged to be a power in the stock-raising world.
+She was a woman of sound, practical, common sense; he was a man of
+action rather than a thinker; she was a woman whose moral guide was an
+invincible sense of duty; he was a man whose sense of responsibility and
+duty was entirely governed by an unreliable inclination. Moreover, he
+was obstinate without being possessed of great strength of will. They
+were characters utterly opposed to one another, and yet they were the
+greatest of friends.</p>
+
+<p>The music had ceased again and once more the walls were lined with
+heated dancers, breathing hard and fanning themselves. Suddenly John
+Allandale saw a face he was looking for. Murmuring an excuse to Mrs.
+Abbot, he strode across the room, just as his niece, leaning upon the
+arm of the Hon. Bunning-Ford, approached where he had been standing.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot glanced admiringly up into Jacky's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A successful evening, Joaquina?&quot; she interrogated kindly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lovely, Aunt Margaret, thanks.&quot; She always called the doctor's wife
+&quot;Aunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe you have danced every dance. You must be tired, child. Come
+and sit down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was intensely fond of this old lady and looked upon her almost as
+a mother. Her affection was reciprocated. The girl seated herself and
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill stood over her, fan in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, auntie,&quot; exclaimed Jacky, &quot;I've made up my mind to dance every
+dance on the program. And I guess I sha'n't Waste time on feeding.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl's beautiful face was aglow with excitement. Mrs. Abbot's face
+indicated horrified amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dear child, don't&mdash;don't talk like that. It is really dreadful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm so sorry, auntie, I forgot,&quot; the girl replied, with an irresistible
+smile. &quot;I never can get away from the prairie. Do you know, this evening
+old Lablache made me mad, and my hand went round to my hip to get a grip
+on my six-shooter, and I was quite disappointed to feel nothing but
+smooth silk to my touch. I'm not fit for town life, I guess. I'm a
+prairie girl; you can bet your life on it, and nothing will civilize me.
+Billy, do stop wagging that fan.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill smiled a slow, twinkling smile and desisted. He was a tall,
+slight man, with a faint stoop at the shoulders. He looked worthy of his
+title.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is no use trying to treat Jacky to a becoming appreciation of social
+requirements,&quot; he said, addressing himself with a sort of weary
+deliberation to Mrs. Abbot. &quot;I suggested an ice just now. She said she
+got plenty on the ranch at this time of year,&quot; and he shrugged his
+shoulders and laughed pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, of course. What does one want ices for?&quot; asked the girl,
+disdainfully. &quot;I came here to dance. But, auntie, dear, where has uncle
+gone? He dashed off as if he were afraid of us when we came up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think he has set his mind on a game of poker, dear, and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that means he has gone in search of that detestable man, Lablache,&quot;
+Jacky put in sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Her beautiful face flushed with anger as she spoke. But withal there was
+a look of anxiety in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If he must play cards I wish he would play with some one else,&quot; she
+pursued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill glanced round the room. He saw that Lablache had
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, you see, Lablache has taken a lot of money out of all of us.
+Naturally we wish to get it back,&quot; he said quietly, as if in defense of
+her uncle's doings.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know. And&mdash;do you?&quot; The girl's tone was cutting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill shrugged. Then,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As yet I have not had that pleasure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if I know anything of Lablache you never will,&quot; put in Mrs. Abbot,
+curtly. &quot;He is not given to parting easily. The qualification most
+necessary amongst gentlemen in the days of our grandfathers was keen
+gambling. You and John, had you lived in those days, might have aspired
+to thrones.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;or taken to the road. You remember, even then, it was necessary to
+be a 'gentleman' of the road.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill laughed in his lazy fashion. His keen gray eyes were half
+veiled with eyelids which, seemed too weary to lift themselves. He was a
+handsome man, but his general air of weariness belied the somewhat eagle
+cast of countenance which was his. Mrs. Abbot, watching him, thought
+that the deplorable lassitude which he always exhibited masked a very
+different nature. Jacky possibly had her own estimation of the man.
+Whatever it was, her friendship for him was not to be doubted, and, on
+his part, he never attempted to disguise his admiration of her.</p>
+
+<p>A woman is often a much keener observer of men than she is given credit
+for. A man is frequently disposed to judge another man by his mental
+talents and his peculiarities of temper&mdash;or blatant self-advertisement.
+A woman's first thought is for that vague, but comprehensive trait
+&quot;manliness. She drives straight home for the peg upon which to hang her
+judgment. That is why in feminine regard the bookworm goes to the wall
+to make room for the athlete. Possibly Jacky and Mrs. Abbot had probed
+beneath &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's superficial weariness and discovered there a
+nature worthy of their regard. They were both, in their several ways,
+fond of this scion of a noble house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is all very well for you good people to sit there and lecture&mdash;or,
+at least, say 'things,'&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill went on. &quot;A man must have
+excitement. Life becomes a burden to the man who lives the humdrum
+existence of ranch life. For the first few years it is all very well. He
+can find a certain excitement in learning the business. The 'round-ups'
+and branding and re-branding of cattle, these things are
+fascinating&mdash;for a time. Breaking the wild and woolly broncho is
+thrilling and he needs no other tonic; but when one has gone through all
+this and he finds that no Broncho&mdash;or, for that matter, any other
+horse&mdash;ever foaled cannot be ridden, it loses its charm and becomes
+boring. On the prairie there are only two things left for him to
+do&mdash;drink or gamble. The first is impossible. It is low, degrading.
+Besides it only appeals to certain senses, and does not give one that
+'hair-curling' thrill which makes life tolerable. Consequently the wily
+pasteboard is brought forth&mdash;and we live again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stuff,&quot; remarked Mrs. Abbot, uncompromisingly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, you make me laugh,&quot; exclaimed Jacky, smiling up into his face.
+&quot;Your arguments are so characteristic of you. I believe it is nothing
+but sheer indolence that makes you sit down night after night and hand
+over your dollars to that&mdash;that Lablache. How much have you lost to him
+this week?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill glanced quizzically down at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have purchased seven evenings' excitement at a fairly reasonable
+price.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which means?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl leant forward and in her eyes was a look of anxiety. She meant
+to have the truth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have enjoyed myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But the price?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah&mdash;here comes your partner for the next dance,&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill went on,
+still smiling. &quot;The band has struck up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a broad-shouldered man, with a complexion speaking loudly
+of the prairie, came up to claim the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hallo, Pickles,&quot; said Bill, quietly turning upon the newcomer and
+ignoring Jacky's question. &quot;Thought you said you weren't coming in
+to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Neither was I,&quot; the man addressed as &quot;Pickles&quot; retorted, &quot;but Miss
+Jacky promised me two dances,&quot; he went on, in strong Irish brogue; &quot;that
+settled it. How d'ye do, Mrs. Abbot? Come along, Miss Jacky, we're
+losing half our dance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl took the proffered arm and was about to move off. She turned
+and spoke to &quot;Lord&quot; Bill over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How much?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged his shoulders in a deprecating fashion. The same gentle
+smile hovered round his sleepy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Three thousand dollars.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky glided off into the already dancing throng.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the Hon. Bunning-Ford and Mrs. Abbot watched the girl as
+she glided in and out amongst the dancers, then, with a sigh, the old
+lady turned to her companion. Her kindly wrinkled old face wore a sad
+expression and a half tender look was in her eyes as they rested upon
+the man's face. When she spoke, however, her tone was purely
+conversational.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you not going to dance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; abstractedly. &quot;I think I've had enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then come and sit by me and help to cheer an old woman up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill smiled as he seated himself upon the lounge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't think there is much necessity for my cheering influence, Aunt
+Margaret. Amongst your many other charming qualities cheerfulness is not
+the least. Doesn't Jacky look lovely to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To-night?&mdash;always.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, of course&mdash;but Jacky always seems to surpass herself under
+excitement. One would scarcely expect it, knowing her as we do. But she
+is as wildly delighted with dancing as any miss fresh from school.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And why not? It is little pleasure that comes into her life. An
+orphan&mdash;barely twenty-two&mdash;with the entire responsibility of her uncle's
+ranch upon her shoulders. Living in a very hornet's nest of blacklegs
+and&mdash;and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gamblers,&quot; put in the man, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; Aunt Margaret went on defiantly, &quot;gamblers. With the certain
+knowledge that the home she struggles for, through no fault of her own,
+is passing into the hands of a man she hates and despises&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And who by the way is in love with her.&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's mouth was
+curiously pursed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What pleasure can she have?&quot; exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, vehemently.
+&quot;Sometimes, much as I am attached to John, I feel as if I should like
+to&mdash;to bang him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poor old John!&quot; Bill's bantering tone nettled the old lady, but she
+said no more. Her anger against those she loved could not last long.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Poker' John loves his niece,&quot; the man went on, as his companion
+remained silent. &quot;There is nothing in the world he would not do for her,
+if it lay within his power.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then let him leave poker alone. His gambling is breaking her heart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The angry light was again in the old lady's eyes. Her companion did not
+answer for a moment. His lips had assumed that curious pursing. When he
+spoke it was with, great decision.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Impossible, my dear lady&mdash;utterly impossible. Can the Foss River help
+freezing in winter? Can Jacky help talking prairie slang? Can Lablache
+help grubbing for money? Can you help caring for all of our worthless
+selves who belong to the Foss River Settlement? Nothing can alter these
+things. John would play poker on the lid of his own coffin, while the
+undertakers were winding his shroud about him&mdash;if they'd lend him a pack
+of cards.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe you encourage him in it,&quot; said the old lady, mollified, but
+still sticking to her guns. &quot;There is little to choose between you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man shrugged his indolent shoulders. This dear old lady's loyalty to
+Jacky, and, for that matter, to all her friends, pleased while it amused
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maybe.&quot; Then abruptly, &quot;Let's talk of something else.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment an elderly man was seen edging his way through the
+dancers. He came directly over to Mrs. Abbot.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's getting late, Margaret,&quot; he said, pausing before her. &quot;I am told
+it is rather gusty outside. The weather prophets think we may have a
+blizzard on us before morning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shouldn't be at all surprised,&quot; put in the Hon. Bunning-Ford. &quot;The
+sun-dogs have been showing for the last two days. I'll see what Jacky
+says, and then hunt out old John.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, for goodness' sake don't let us get caught in a blizzard,&quot;
+exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, fearfully. &quot;If there is one thing I'm afraid of it
+is one of those terrible storms. We have thirty-five miles to go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The new-comer, Dr. Abbot, smiled at his wife's terrified look, but, as
+he turned to urge Bill to hurry, there was a slightly anxious look on
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry up, old man. I'll go and see about our sleigh.&quot; Then in an
+undertone, &quot;You can exaggerate a little to persuade them, for the storm
+<i>is</i> coming on and we must get away at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A moment or two later &quot;Lord&quot; Bill and Jacky were making their way to the
+smoking-room. On the stairs they met &quot;Poker&quot; John. He was returning to
+the ballroom.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We were just coming to look for you, uncle,&quot; exclaimed Jacky. &quot;They
+tell us it is blowing outside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just what I was coming to tell you, my dear. We must be going. Where
+are the doctor and Aunt Margaret?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Getting ready,&quot; said Bill, quietly. &quot;Have a good game?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man smiled. His bronzed face indicated extreme satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not half bad, boy&mdash;not half bad. Relieved Lablache of five hundred
+dollars in the last jackpot. Held four deuces. He opened with full on
+aces.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John seemed to have forgotten the past heavy losses, and spoke
+gleefully of the paltry five hundred he had just scooped in.</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked relieved, and even the undemonstrative &quot;Lord&quot; Bill
+allowed a scarcely audible sigh to escape him. Jacky returned at once to
+the exigencies of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, uncle, dear, let us hurry up. I guess none of us want to be
+caught in a blizzard. Say, Bill, take me to the cloak-room, right
+away.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II" />CHAPTER II - THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES</h2>
+
+
+<p>On the whole, Canada can boast of one of the most perfect health-giving
+climates in the world, despite the two extremes of heat and cold of
+which it is composed. But even so, the Canadian climate is cursed by an
+evil which every now and again breaks loose from the bonds which fetter
+it, and rages from east to west, carrying death and destruction in its
+wake. I speak of the terrible&mdash;the raging Blizzard!</p>
+
+<p>To appreciate the panic-like haste with which the Foss River Settlement
+party left the ballroom, one must have lived a winter in the west of
+Canada. The reader who sits snugly by his or her fireside, and who has
+never experienced a Canadian winter, can have no conception of one of
+those dread storms, the very name of which had drawn words of terror
+from one who had lived the greater part of her life in the eastern
+shadow of the Rockies. Hers was no timid, womanly fear for ordinary
+inclemency of weather, but a deep-rooted dread of a life-and-death
+struggle in a merciless storm, than which, in no part of the world, can
+there be found a more fearful. Whence it comes&mdash;and why, surely no one
+may say. A meteorological expert may endeavor to account for it, but his
+argument is unconvincing and gains no credence from the dweller on the
+prairies. And why? Because the storm does not come from above&mdash;neither
+does it come from a specified direction. And only in the winter does
+such a wind blow. The wind buffets from every direction at once. No snow
+falls from above and yet a blinding gray wall of snow, swept up from the
+white-clothed ground, encompasses the dazed traveller. His arm
+outstretched in daylight and he cannot see the tips of his heavy fur
+mitts. Bitter cold, a hundred times intensified by the merciless force
+of the wind, and he is lost and freezing&mdash;slowly freezing to death.</p>
+
+<p>As the sleigh dashed through the outskirts of Calford, on its way to the
+south, there was not much doubt in the minds of any of its occupants as
+to the prospects of the storm. The gusty, patchy wind, the sudden sweeps
+of hissing, cutting snow, as it slithered up in a gray dust in the
+moonlight, and lashed, with stinging force, into their faces, was a sure
+herald of the coming &quot;blizzard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford and Jacky occupied the front seat of the sleigh. The former
+was driving the spanking team of blacks of which old &quot;Poker&quot; John was
+justly proud. The sleigh was open, as in Canada all such sleighs are.
+Mrs. Abbot and the doctor sat in a seat with their backs to Jacky and
+her companion, and old John Allandale faced the wind in the back seat,
+alone. Thirty-five miles the horses had to cover before the storm
+thoroughly established itself, and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was not a slow driver.</p>
+
+<p>The figures of the travellers were hardly distinguishable so enwrapped
+were they in beaver caps, buffalo coats and robes. Jacky, as she sat
+silently beside her companion, might have been taken for an inanimate
+bundle of furs, so lost was she within the ample folds of her buffalo.
+But for the occasional turn of her head, as she measured with her eyes
+the rising of the storm, she gave no sign of life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill seemed indifferent. His eyes were fixed upon the road ahead
+and his hands, encased in fur mitts, were on the &quot;lines&quot; with a
+tenacious grip. The horses needed no urging. They were high-mettled and
+cold. The gushing quiver of their nostrils, as they drank in the crisp,
+night air, had a comforting sound for the occupants of the sleigh.
+Weather permitting, those beautiful &quot;blacks&quot; would do the distance in
+under three hours.</p>
+
+<p>The sleigh bells jangled musically in response to the high steps of the
+horses as they sped over the hard, snow-covered trail. They were
+climbing the long slope which was to take them out of the valley
+wherein was Calford situate. Presently Jack's face appeared from amidst
+the folds of the muffler which kept her storm collar fast round her neck
+and ears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's gaining on us, Billy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He understood her remark. He knew she referred to the storm. His lips
+were curiously pursed. A knack he had when stirred out of himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shan't do it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl spoke with conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess we'd better hit the trail for Norton's. Soldier Joe'll be glad to
+welcome us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill did not answer. He merely chirruped at the horses. The
+willing beasts increased their pace and the sleigh sped along with that
+intoxicating smoothness only to be felt when travelling with double
+&quot;bobs&quot; on a perfect trail.</p>
+
+<p>The gray wind of the approaching blizzard was becoming fiercer. The moon
+was already enveloped in a dense haze. The snow was driving like fine
+sand in the faces of the travellers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think we'll give it an hour, Bill. After that I guess it'll be too
+thick,&quot; pursued the girl. &quot;What d'you think, can we make Norton's in
+that time&mdash;it's a good sixteen miles?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll put 'em at it,&quot; was her companion's curt response.</p>
+
+<p>Neither spoke for a minute. Then &quot;Lord&quot; Bill bent his head suddenly
+forward. The night was getting blacker and it was with difficulty that
+he could keep his eyes from blinking under the lash of the whipping
+snow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it?&quot; asked Jacky, ever on the alert with the instinct of the
+prairie.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some one just ahead of us. The track is badly broken in places. Sit
+tight, I'm going to touch 'em up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He flicked the whip over the horses' backs, and, a moment later, the
+sleigh was flying along at a dangerous pace. The horses had broken into
+a gallop.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill seemed to liven up under the influence of speed. The wind
+was howling now, and conversation was impossible, except in short, jerky
+sentences. They were on the high level of the prairie and were getting
+the full benefit of the open sweep of country.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cold?&quot; Bill almost shouted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; came the quiet response.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Straight, down-hill trail. I'm going to let 'em have their heads.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Both of these people knew every inch of the road they were travelling.
+There was no fear in their hearts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Put 'em along, then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The horses raced along. The deadly gray wind had obscured all light. The
+lights of the sleigh alone showed the tracks. It was a wild night and
+every moment it seemed to become worse. Suddenly the man spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish we hadn't got the others with us, Jacky.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I could put 'em along faster, as it is&mdash;&quot; His sentence remained
+unfinished, the sleigh bumped and lifted on to one runner. It was within
+an ace of overturning. There was no need to finish his sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I understand, Bill. Don't take too many chances. Ease 'em
+up&mdash;some. They're not as young as we are&mdash;not the horses. The others.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill laughed. Jacky was so cool. The word fear was not in her
+vocabulary. This sort of a journey was nothing new to her. She had
+experienced it all before. Possibly, however, her total lack of fear was
+due to her knowledge of the man who, to use her own way of expressing
+things, &quot;was at the business end of the lines.&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was at once
+the finest and the most fearless teamster for miles around. Under the
+cloak of indolent indifference he concealed a spirit of fearlessness and
+even recklessness which few accredited to him.</p>
+
+<p>For some time the two remained silent. The minutes sped rapidly and half
+an hour passed. All about was pitch black now. The wind was tearing and
+shrieking from every direction at once. The sleigh seemed to be the
+center of its attack. The blinding clouds of snow, as they swept up from
+the ground, were becoming denser and denser and offered a fierce
+resistance to the racing horses. Another few minutes and the two people
+on the front seat knew that progress would be impossible. As it was,
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill was driving more by instinct than by what he could see. The
+trail was obscured, as were all landmarks. He could no longer see the
+horses' heads.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We've passed the school-house,&quot; said Jacky, at last.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A strange knowledge or instinct is that of the prairie man or woman.
+Neither had seen the school-house or anything to indicate it. And yet
+they knew they had passed it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Half a mile to Trout Creek. Two miles to Norton's. Can you do it,
+Bill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Quietly as the words were spoken, there was a world of meaning in the
+question. To lose their way now would be worse, infinitely, than to lose
+oneself in one of the sandy deserts of Africa. Death was in that biting
+wind and in the blinding snow. Once lost, and, in two or three hours,
+all would be over.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; came the monosyllabic reply. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's lips were pursed
+tightly. Every now and then he dashed the snow and breath icicles from
+his eyelashes. The horses were almost hidden from his view.</p>
+
+<p>They were descending a steep gradient and they now knew that they were
+upon Trout Creek. At the creek Bill pulled up. It was the first stop
+since leaving Calford. Jacky and he jumped down. Each knew what the
+other was about to do without speaking. Jacky, reins in hand, went round
+the horses; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was searching for the trail which turned off
+from the main road up the creek to Norton's. Presently he came back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Animals all right?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fit as fiddles,&quot; the girl replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right&mdash;jump up!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no assisting this girl to her seat. No &quot;by your leave&quot; or
+European politeness. Simply the word of one man who knows his business
+to another. Both were on their &quot;native heath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill checked the horses' impetuosity and walked them slowly until he
+came to the turning. Once on the right road, however, he let them have
+their heads.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's all right, Jacky,&quot; as the horses bounded forward.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later the sleigh drew up at Norton's, but so dark was it
+and so dense the snow fog, that only those two keen watchers on the
+front seat were able to discern the outline of the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John and the doctor assisted the old lady to alight whilst Jacky
+and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill unhitched the horses. In spite of the cold the sweat was
+pouring from the animals' sides. In answer to a violent summons on the
+storm door a light appeared in the window and &quot;soldier&quot; Joe Norton
+opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>For an instant he stood in the doorway peering doubtfully out into the
+storm. A goodly picture he made as he stood lantern in hand, his rugged
+old face gazing inquiringly at his visitors.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry up, Joe, let us in,&quot; exclaimed Allandale. &quot;We are nearly frozen
+to death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, bless my soul!&mdash;bless my soul! Come in! Come in!&quot; the old man
+exclaimed hastily as he recognized John Allandale's voice. &quot;You out, and
+on a night like this. Bless my soul! Come in! Down, Husky, down!&quot; to a
+bob-tail sheep-dog which bounded forward and barked savagely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold on, Joe,&quot; said &quot;Poker&quot; John. &quot;Let the ladies go in, we must see to
+the horses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's all right, uncle,&quot; said Jacky, &quot;we've unhitched 'em. Bill's taken
+'em right away to the stables.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The whole party passed into Joe Norton's sitting-room, where the old
+farmer at once set about kindling, with the aid of some coal-oil, a fire
+in the great box-stove. While his host was busy John took the lantern
+and went to &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's assistance in the stables.</p>
+
+<p>The stove lighted, Joe Norton turned to his guests.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bless me, and to think of you, Mrs. Abbot, and Miss Jacky, too. I must
+fetch the o'd 'ooman. Hi, Molly, Molly, bestir yourself, old girl. Come
+on down, an' help the ladies. They've come for shelter out o' the
+blizzard&mdash;good luck to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, no, don't disturb her, Joe,&quot; exclaimed Mrs. Abbot; &quot;it's really too
+bad, at this unearthly hour. Besides, we shall be quite comfortable here
+by the stove.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No doubt&mdash;no doubt,&quot; said the old man, cheerfully, &quot;but that's not my
+way&mdash;not my way. Any of you froze,&quot; he went on ungrammatically, &quot;'cause
+if so, out you go and thaw it out in the snow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess there's no one frozen,&quot; said Jacky, smiling into the old man's
+face. &quot;We're too old birds for that. Ah, here's Mrs. Norton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Another warm greeting and the two ladies were hustled off to the only
+spare bedroom the Nortons boasted. By this time &quot;Lord&quot; Bill and &quot;Poker&quot;
+John had returned from the stables. While the ladies were removing their
+furs, which were sodden with the melting snow, the farmer's wife was
+preparing a rough but ample meal of warm provender in the kitchen. Such
+is hospitality in the Far North-West.</p>
+
+<p>When the supper was prepared the travellers sat down to the substantial
+fare. None were hungry&mdash;be it remembered that it was three o'clock in
+the morning&mdash;but each felt that some pretense in that direction must be
+made, or the kindly couple would think their welcome was insufficient.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An' what made you venture on the trail on such a night?&quot; asked old
+Norton, as he poured out a joram of hot whiskey for each of the men. &quot;A
+moral cert, you wouldn't strike Foss River in such a storm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We thought it would have held off longer,&quot; said Dr. Abbot. &quot;It was no
+use getting cooped up in town for two or three days. You know what these
+blizzards are. You may have to do with us yourself during the next
+forty-eight hours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's too sharp to last, Doc,&quot; put in Jacky, as she helped herself to
+some soup. Her face was glowing after her exposure to the elements. She
+looked very beautiful and not one whit worse for the drive.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sharp enough&mdash;sharp enough,&quot; murmured old Norton, as if for something
+to say.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sharp enough to bring some one else to your hospitable abode, Joe,&quot;
+interrupted &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, quietly; &quot;I hear sleigh bells. The wind's
+howling, but their tone is familiar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They were all listening now. &quot;Poker&quot; John was the first to speak.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's&mdash;&quot; and he paused.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could complete his sentence Jacky filled up the missing words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;for a dollar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence in that rough homely little kitchen. The
+expression of the faces of those around the board indexed a general
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, if it were he, would not receive the cordial welcome which had
+been meted out to the others. Norton broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dang it! That's what I ses, dang it! You'll pardon me, ladies, but my
+feelings get the better of me at times. I don't like him. Lablache&mdash;I
+hates him,&quot; and he strode out of the room, his old face aflame with
+annoyance, to discharge the hospitable duties of the prairie.</p>
+
+<p>As the door closed behind him Dr. Abbot laughed constrainedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache doesn't seem popular&mdash;here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No one answered his remark. Then &quot;Poker&quot; John looked over at the other
+men.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We must go and help to put his horses away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no suggestion in his words, merely a statement of plain facts.
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill nodded and the three men rose and went to the door.</p>
+
+<p>As they disappeared Jacky turned to Mrs. Norton and Aunt Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If that's Lablache&mdash;I'm off to bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was one of uncompromising decision. Mrs. Abbot was less
+assured.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you think it polite&mdash;wise?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come along, aunt. Never mind about politeness or wisdom. What do you
+say, Mrs. Norton?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As you like, Miss Jacky. I must stay up, or&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;the men can entertain him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Just then Lablache's voice was heard outside. It was a peculiar,
+guttural, gasping voice. Aunt Margaret looked doubtfully from Jacky to
+Mrs. Norton. The latter nodded smilingly. Then following Jacky's lead
+she passed up the staircase which led from the kitchen to the rooms
+above. A moment later the door opened and Lablache and the other men
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They've gone to bed,&quot; said Mrs. Norton, in answer to &quot;Poker&quot; John's
+look of inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tired, no doubt,&quot; put in Lablache, drily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And not without reason, I guess,&quot; retorted &quot;Poker&quot; John, sharply. He
+had not failed to note the other's tone.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache laughed quietly, but his keen, restless eyes shot an unpleasant
+glance at the speaker from beneath their heavy lids.</p>
+
+<p>He was a burly man. In bulk he was of much the same proportions as old
+John Allandale. But while John was big with the weight of muscle and
+frame, Lablache was flabby with fat. In face he was the antithesis of
+the other. Whilst &quot;Poker&quot; John was the picture of florid tanning&mdash;While
+his face, although perhaps a trifle weak in its lower formation, was
+bold, honest, and redounding with kindly nature, Lablache's was
+bilious-looking and heavy with obesity. Whatever character was there, it
+was lost in the heavy folds of flesh with which it was wreathed. His
+jowl was ponderous, and his little mouth was tightly compressed, while
+his deep-sunken, bilious eyes peered from between heavy, lashless lids.</p>
+
+<p>Such was Verner Lablache, the wealthiest man of the Foss River
+Settlement. He owned a large store in the place, selling farming
+machinery to the settlers and ranchers about. His business was always
+done on credit, for which he charged exorbitant rates of interest,
+accepting only first mortgages upon crops and stock as security. Besides
+this he represented several of the Calford private banks, which many
+people said were really owned by him, and there was no one more ready to
+lend money&mdash;on the best of security and the highest rate of
+interest&mdash;than he. Should the borrower fail to pay, he was always
+suavely ready to renew the loan at increased interest&mdash;provided the
+security was sound. And, in the end, every ounce of his pound of flesh,
+plus not less than fifty per cent. interest, would come back to him.
+After Verner Lablache had done with him, the unfortunate rancher who
+borrowed generally disappeared from the neighborhood. Sometimes this
+man's victims were never heard of again. Sometimes they were discovered
+doing the &quot;chores&quot; round some obscure farmer's house. Anyway, ranch,
+crops, stock&mdash;everything the man ever had&mdash;would have passed into the
+hands of the money-lender, Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>Hard-headed dealer&mdash;money-grubber&mdash;as Lablache was, he had a weakness.
+To look at him&mdash;to know him&mdash;no one would have thought it, but he had.
+And at least two of those present were aware of his secret. He was in
+love with Jacky. That is to say, he coveted her&mdash;desired her. When
+Lablache desired anything in that little world of his, he generally
+secured it to himself, but, in this matter, he had hitherto been
+thwarted. His desire had increased proportionately. He was annoyed to
+think that Jacky had retired at his coming. He was in no way blind to
+the reason of her sudden departure, but beyond his first remark he was
+not the man to advertise his chagrin. He could afford to wait.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You'll take a bite o' supper, Mr. Lablache?&quot; said old Norton, in a tone
+of inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supper?&mdash;no, thanks, Norton. But if you've a drop of something hot I
+can do with that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We've gener'ly got somethin' o' that about,&quot; replied the old man.
+&quot;Whiskey or rum?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whisky, man, whisky. I've got liver enough already without touching
+rum.&quot; Then he turned to &quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's a devilish night, John, devilish. I started before you. Thought I
+could make the river in time. I was completely lost on the other side of
+the creek. I fancy the storm worked up from that direction.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He lumped into a chair close beside the stove. The others had already
+seated themselves.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We didn't chance it. Bill drove us straight here,&quot; said &quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess Bill knew something&mdash;he generally does,&quot; as an afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know a blizzard when I see it,&quot; said Bunning-Ford, indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache sipped his whisky. A silence fell on that gathering of
+refugees. Mrs. Norton had cleared the supper things.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, if you gents'll excuse me I'll go back to bed. Old Joe'll look
+after you,&quot; she said abruptly. &quot;Good-night to you all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She disappeared up the staircase. The men remained silent for a moment
+or two. They were getting drowsy. Suddenly Lablache set his glass down
+and looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Four o'clock, gentlemen. I suppose, Joe, there are no beds for us.&quot; The
+old farmer shook his head. &quot;What say, John&mdash;Doc&mdash;a little game until
+breakfast?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Allandale's face lit up. His sobriquet was no idle One. He lived
+for poker&mdash;he loved it. And Lablache knew it. Old John turned to the
+others. His right cheek twitched as he waited the decision. &quot;Doc&quot; Abbot
+smiled approval; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill shrugged indifferently. The old gambler
+rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's all right, then. The kitchen table is good enough for us. Come
+along, gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll slide off to bed, I guess,&quot; said Norton, thankful to escape a
+night's vigil. &quot;Good-night, gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then the remaining four sat down to play.</p>
+
+<p>The far-reaching consequences of that game were undreamt of by the
+players, except, perhaps, by Lablache. His story of the reason of his
+return to Norton's farm was only partially true. He had returned in the
+hopes of this meeting; he had anticipated this game.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III" />CHAPTER III - A BIG GAME OF POKER</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;What about cards?&quot; said Lablache, as the four men sat down to the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Doc will oblige, no doubt,&quot; Bunning-Ford replied quietly. &quot;He generally
+carries the 'pernicious pasteboards' about with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The man who travels in the West without them,&quot; said Dr. Abbot,
+producing a couple of new packs from his pocket, &quot;either does not know
+his country or is a victim of superstition.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No one seemed inclined to refuse the doctor's statement, or enter into a
+discussion upon the matter. Instead, each drew out a small memorandum
+block and pencil&mdash;a sure indication of a &quot;big game.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Limit?&quot; asked the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged his shoulders, affectionately shuffling the cards the
+while. He kept his eyes averted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do the others say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a challenge in Lablache's tone. Bunning-Ford flushed slightly
+at the cheek-bones. That peculiar pursing was at his lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Anything goes with me. The higher the game the greater the excitement,&quot;
+he said, shooting a keen glance at the pasty face of the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>Old John was irritated. His ruddy face gleamed in the light of the lamp.
+The nervous twitching of the cheek indicated his frame of mind. Lablache
+smiled to himself behind the wood expression of his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Twenty dollars call for fifty. Limit the bet to three thousand
+dollars. Is that big enough for you, Lablache? Let us have a regulation
+'ante.' No 'straddling.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence. &quot;Poker&quot; John had proposed the biggest game
+they had yet played. He would have suggested no limit, but this he knew
+would be all in favor of Lablache, whose resources were vast.</p>
+
+<p>John glanced over from the money-lender to the doctor. The doctor and
+Bunning-Ford were the most to be considered. Their resources were very
+limited. The old man knew that the doctor was one of those careful
+players who was not likely to allow himself to suffer by the height of
+the stakes. There was no bluffing the doctor. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was able to
+take care of himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's good enough for me,&quot; said Bunning-Ford. &quot;Let it go at that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Outwardly Lablache was indifferent; inwardly he experienced a sense of
+supreme satisfaction at the height of the stakes.</p>
+
+<p>The four men relapsed into silence as they cut for the deal. It was an
+education in the game to observe each man as he, metaphorically
+speaking, donned his mask of impassive reserve. As the game progressed
+any one of those four men might have been a graven image as far as the
+expression of countenance went. No word was spoken beyond &quot;Raise you so
+and so&quot;&mdash;&quot;See you that.&quot; So keen, so ardent was the game that the stake
+might have been one of life and death. No money passed. Just slips of
+paper; and yet any one of those fragments represented a small fortune.</p>
+
+<p>The first few hands resulted in but desultory betting. Sums of money
+changed hands but there was very little in it. Lablache was the
+principal loser. Three &quot;pots&quot; in succession were taken by John
+Allandale, but their aggregate did not amount to half the limit. A
+little luck fell to Bunning-Ford. He once raised Lablache to the limit.
+The money-lender &quot;saw&quot; him and lost. Bill promptly scooped in three
+thousand dollars. The doctor was cautious. He had lost and won nothing.
+Then a change came over the game. To use a card-player's expression, the
+cards were beginning to &quot;run.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill dealt. Lablache was upon his right and next to him the
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender picked up his cards, and partially opening them glanced
+keenly at the index numerals. His stolid face remained unchanged. The
+doctor glanced at his and &quot;came in.&quot; &quot;Poker&quot; John &quot;came in.&quot; The dealer
+remained out. The doctor drew two cards; &quot;Poker&quot; John, one; Lablache
+drew one. The veteran rancher held four nines. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill gathered up
+the &quot;deadwood,&quot; and, propping his face upon his hands, watched the
+betting.</p>
+
+<p>It was the doctor's bet; he cautiously dropped out. He had an inkling of
+the way things were going. &quot;Poker&quot; John opened the ball with five
+hundred dollars. He had a good thing and he did not want to frighten his
+opponent by a plunge. He would leave it to Lablache to start raising.
+The money-lender raised him one thousand. Old John sniffed with the
+appreciation of an old war-horse at the scent of battle. The nervous,
+twitching cheek remained unmoved. The old gambler in him rose uppermost.</p>
+
+<p>He leisurely saw the thousand, and raised another five hundred. Lablache
+allowed his fishy eyes to flash in the direction of his opponent. A
+moment after he raised another thousand. The gamble was becoming
+interesting. The two onlookers were consumed with the lust of play. They
+forgot that in the result they would not be participants. Old John's
+face lost something of its impassivity as he in turn raised to the
+limit. Lablache eased his great body in his chair. His little mouth was
+very tightly clenched. His breathing, at times stertorous, was like the
+breathing of an asthmatical pig. He saw, and again raised to the limit.
+There was now over twelve thousand dollars in the pool.</p>
+
+<p>It was old John's turn. The doctor and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill waited anxiously. The
+old rancher was reputed very wealthy. They felt assured that he would
+not back down after having gone so far. In their hearts they both wished
+to see him relieve Lablache of a lot of money.</p>
+
+<p>They need have had no fears. Whatever his faults &quot;Poker&quot; John was a
+&quot;dead game sport.&quot; He dashed a slip of paper into the pool. The keen
+eyes watching read &quot;four thousand dollars&quot; scrawled upon it. He had
+again raised to the limit. It was now Lablache's turn to accept or
+refuse the challenge. The onlookers were not so sure of the
+money-lender. Would he accept or not?</p>
+
+<p>A curious thought was in the mind of that monument of flesh. He knew for
+certain that he held the winning cards. How he knew it would be
+impossible to say. And yet he hesitated. Perhaps he knew the limits of
+John Allandale's resources, perhaps he felt, for the present, there was
+sufficient in the pool; perhaps, even, he had ulterior motives. Whatever
+the cause, as he passed a slip of paper into the pool merely seeing his
+opponent, his face gave no outward sign of what was passing in the brain
+behind it.</p>
+
+<p>Old John laid down his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Four nines,&quot; he said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not good enough,&quot; retorted Lablache; &quot;four kings.&quot; And he spread his
+cards out upon the table before him and swept up the pile of papers
+which represented his win.</p>
+
+<p>A sigh, as of relief to pent-up feelings, escaped the two men who had
+watched the gamble. Old John said not a word and his face betrayed no
+thought or regret that might have been in his mind at the loss of such a
+large amount of money. He merely glanced over at the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your deal, Lablache,&quot; he said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache took the cards and a fresh deal went round. Now the game became
+one-sided. With that one large pull the money-lender's luck seemed to
+have set in. Seemingly he could do no wrong. If he drew to &quot;three of a
+kind,&quot; he invariably filled; if to a &quot;pair,&quot; he generally secured a
+third; once, indeed, he drew to jack, queen, king of a suit and
+completed a &quot;royal flush.&quot; His luck was phenomenal. The other men's
+luck seemed &quot;dead out.&quot; Bunning-Ford and the doctor could get no hands
+at all, and thus they were saved heavy losses. Occasionally, even, the
+doctor raked in a few &quot;antes.&quot; But John Allandale could do nothing
+right. He was always drawing tolerable cards&mdash;just good enough to lose
+with. Until, by the time daylight came, he had lost so heavily that his
+two friends were eagerly seeking an excuse to break up the game.</p>
+
+<p>At last &quot;Lord&quot; Bill effected this purpose, but at considerable loss to
+himself. He had a fairly good hand, but not, as he knew, sufficiently
+good to win with. Lablache and he were left in. The money-lender had in
+one plunge raised the bet to the &quot;limit.&quot; Bill knew that he ought to
+drop out, but, instead of so doing, he saw his opponent. He lost the
+&quot;pot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you, gentlemen,&quot; he said, quietly rising from the table, &quot;my
+losses are sufficient for one night. I have finished. It is daylight and
+the storm is 'letting up' somewhat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned as he spoke, and, glancing at the staircase, saw Jacky
+standing at the top of it. How long she had been standing there he did
+not know. He felt certain, although she gave no sign, that she had heard
+what he had just said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John saw her too.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Jacky, what means this early rising?&quot; said the old man kindly.
+&quot;Too tired last night to sleep?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, uncle. Guess I slept all right. The wind's dropping fast. I take it
+it'll be blowing great guns again before long. This is our chance to
+make the ranch.&quot; She had been an observer of the finish of the game. She
+had heard Bill's remarks on his loss, and yet not by a single word did
+she betray her knowledge. Inwardly she railed at herself for having gone
+to bed. She wondered how it had fared with her uncle.</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford left the room. Somehow he felt that he must get away from
+the steady gaze of those gray eyes. He knew how Jacky dreaded, for her
+uncle's sake, the game they had just been playing. He wondered, as he
+went to test the weather, what she would have thought had she known the
+stakes, or the extent of her uncle's losses. He hoped she was not aware
+of these facts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You look tired, Uncle John,&quot; said the girl, solicitously, as she came
+down the stairs. She purposely ignored Lablache. &quot;Have you had no
+sleep?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John laughed a little uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sleep, child? We old birds of the prairie can do with very little of
+that. It's only pretty faces that want sleep, and I'm thinking you ought
+still to be in your bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Jacky is ever on the alert to take advantage of the elements,&quot; put
+in Lablache, heavily. &quot;She seems to understand these things better than
+any of us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl was forced to notice the money-lender. She did so reluctantly,
+however.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you, too, sought shelter from the storm beneath old man Norton's
+hospitable roof. You are dead right, Mr. Lablache; we who live on the
+prairie need to be ever on the alert. One never knows what each hour may
+bring forth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl was still in her ball-dress. Lablache's fishy eyes noticed her
+charming appearance. The strong, beautiful face sent a thrill of delight
+over him as he watched it&mdash;the delicate rounded shoulders made him suck
+in his heavy breath like one who anticipates a delicate dish. Jacky
+turned from him in plainly-expressed disgust.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle was watching her with a gaze half uneasy and wholly tender.
+She was the delight of his old age, the center of all his affections,
+this motherless child of his dead brother. His cheek twitched painfully
+as he thought of the huge amount of his losings to Lablache. He shivered
+perceptibly as he rose from his seat and went over to the cooking stove.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe you people have let the stove out,&quot; the girl exclaimed, as
+she noted her uncle's movement. She had no intention of mentioning the
+game they had been playing. She feared to hear the facts. Instinct told
+her that her uncle had lost again. &quot;Yes, I declare you have,&quot; as she
+knelt before the grate and raked away at the ashes.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she turned to the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here, you, fetch me some wood and coal-oil. Men can never be trusted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was no respecter of persons. When she ordered there were few men
+on the prairie who would refuse to obey. Lablache heaved his great bulk
+from before the table and got on to his feet. His bilious eyes were
+struggling to smile. The effect was horrible. Then he moved across the
+room to where a stack of kindling stood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry up. I guess if we depended much on you we'd freeze.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And Lablache, the hardest, most unscrupulous man for miles around,
+endeavored to obey with the alacrity of any sheep-dog.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself John Allandale could not refrain from smiling at the
+grotesque picture the monumental Lablache made as he lumbered towards
+the stack of kindling.</p>
+
+<p>When &quot;Lord&quot; Bill returned Lablache was bending over the stove beside the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've thrown the harness on the horses&mdash;watered and fed 'em,&quot; he said,
+taking in the situation at a glance. &quot;Say, Doc,&quot; turning to Abbot,
+&quot;better rouse your good lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She'll be down in a tick,&quot; said Jacky, over her shoulder. &quot;Here,
+doctor, you might get a kettle of water&mdash;and Bill, see if you can find
+some bacon or stuff. And you, uncle, came and sit by the stove&mdash;you're
+cold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Strange is the power and fascination of woman. A look&mdash;a glance&mdash;a
+simple word and we men hasten to minister to her requirements. Half an
+hour ago and all these men were playing for fortunes&mdash;dealing in
+thousands of dollars on the turn of a card, the passion for besting his
+neighbor uppermost in each man's mind. Now they were humbly doing one
+girl's bidding with a zest unsurpassed by the devotion to their recent
+gamble.</p>
+
+<p>She treated them indiscriminately. Old or young, there was no
+difference. Bunning-Ford she liked&mdash;Dr. Abbot she liked&mdash;Lablache she
+hated and despised, still she allotted them their tasks with perfect
+impartiality. Only her old uncle she treated differently. That dear,
+degenerate old man she loved with an affection which knew no bounds. He
+was her all in the world. Whatever his sins&mdash;whatever his faults, she
+loved him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV" />CHAPTER IV - AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH</h2>
+
+
+<p>Spring is already upon the prairie. The fur coat has already been
+exchanged for the pea-jacket. No longer is the fur cap crushed down upon
+the head and drawn over the ears until little more than the oval of the
+face is exposed to the elements; it is still worn occasionally, but now
+it rests upon the head with the jaunty cant of an ordinary headgear.</p>
+
+<p>The rough coated broncho no longer stands &quot;tucked up&quot; with the cold,
+with its hind-quarters towards the wind. Now he stands grazing on the
+patches of grass which the melting snow has placed at his disposal. The
+cattle, too, hurry to and fro as each day extends their field of fodder.
+When spring sets in in the great North-West it is with no show of
+reluctance that grim winter yields its claims and makes way for its
+gracious and all-conquering foe. Spring is upon everything with all the
+characteristic suddenness of the Canadian climate. A week&mdash;a little
+seven days&mdash;and where all before had been cheerless wastes of snow and
+ice, we have the promise of summer with us. The snow disappears as with
+the sweep of a &quot;chinook&quot; in winter. The brown, saturated grass is tinged
+with the bright emerald hue of new-born pasture. The bared trees don
+that yellowish tinge which tells of breaking leaves. Rivers begin to
+flow. Their icy coatings, melting in the growing warmth of the sun,
+quickly returning once more to their natural element.</p>
+
+<p>With the advent of spring comes a rush of duties to those whose interest
+are centered in the breeding of cattle. The Foss River Settlement is
+already teeming with life. For the settlement is the center of the great
+spring &quot;round-up.&quot; Here are assembling the &quot;cow-punchers&quot; from all the
+outlying ranches, gathering under the command of a captain (generally a
+man elected for his vast experience on the prairie) and making their
+preparations to scour the prairie east and west, north and south, to the
+very limits of the far-reaching plains which spread their rolling
+pastures at the eastern base of the Rockies. Every head of cattle which
+is found will be brought into the Foss River Settlement and thence will
+be distributed to its lawful owners. This is but the beginning of the
+work, for the task of branding calves and re-branding cattle whose
+brands have become obscured during the long winter months is a process
+of no small magnitude for those who number their stocks by tens of
+thousands.</p>
+
+<p>At John Allandale's ranch all is orderly bustle. There is no confusion.
+Under Jacky's administration the work goes on with a simple directness
+which would astonish the uninitiated. There are the corrals to repair
+and to be put in order. Sheds and out-buildings to be whitewashed.
+Branding apparatus to be set in working order, fencing to be repaired,
+preparations for seeding to commence; a thousand and one things to be
+seen to; and all of which must be finished before the first &quot;bands&quot; of
+cattle are rounded up into the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>It is nearly a month since we saw this daughter of the prairie garbed in
+the latest mode, attending the Polo Ball at Calford, and widely
+different is her appearance now from what it was at the time of our
+introduction to her.</p>
+
+<p>She is returning from an inspection of the wire fencing of the home
+pastures. She is riding her favorite horse, Nigger, up the gentle slope
+which leads to her uncle's house. There is nothing of the woman of
+fashion about her now&mdash;and, perhaps, it is a matter not to be regretted.</p>
+
+<p>She sits her horse with the easy grace of a childhood's experience. Her
+habit, if such it can be called, is a &quot;dungaree&quot; skirt of a hardly
+recognizable blue, so washed out is it, surmounted by a beautifully
+beaded buckskin shirt. Loosely encircling her waist, and resting upon
+her hips, is a cartridge belt, upon which is slung the holster of a
+heavy revolver, a weapon without which she never moves abroad. Her head
+is crowned by a Stetson hat, secured in true prairie fashion by a strap
+which passes under her hair at the back, while her beautiful hair itself
+falls in heavy ringlets over her shoulders, and waves untrammelled in
+the fresh spring breeze as her somewhat unruly charger gallops up the
+hill towards the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>The great black horse was heading for the stable. Jacky leant over to
+one side and swung him sharply towards the house. At the veranda she
+pulled him up short. High mettled, headstrong as the animal was, he knew
+his mistress. Tricks which he would often attempt to practice upon other
+people were useless here&mdash;doubtless she had taught him that such was the
+case.</p>
+
+<p>The girl sprang, unaided, to the ground and hitched her picket rope to a
+tying-post. For a moment she stood on the great veranda which ran down
+the whole length of the house front. It was a one-storied,
+bungalow-shaped house, built with a high pitch to the roof and entirely
+constructed of the finest red pine-wood. Six French windows opened on to
+the veranda. The outlook was westerly, and, contrary to the usual
+custom, the ranch buildings were not overlooked by it. The corrals and
+stables were in the background.</p>
+
+<p>She was about to turn in at one of the windows when she suddenly
+observed Nigger's ears cocked, and his head turned away towards the
+shimmering peaks of the distant mountains. The movement fixed her
+attention instantly. It was the instinct of one who lives in a country
+where the eyes and ears of a horse are often keener and more
+far-reaching than those of its human masters. The horse was gazing with
+statuesque fixedness across a waste of partially-melted snow. A stretch
+of ten miles lay flat and smooth as a billiard-table at the foot of the
+rise upon which the house was built. And far out across this the beast
+was gazing.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky shaded her eyes with her hand and followed the direction of the
+horse's gaze. For a moment or two she saw nothing but the dazzling glare
+of the snow in the bright spring sunlight. Then her eyes became
+accustomed to the brilliancy, and far in the distance, she beheld an
+animal peacefully moving along from patch to patch of bare grass,
+evidently in search of fodder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A horse,&quot; she muttered, under her breath. &quot;Whose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She could find no answer to her monosyllabic inquiry. She realized at
+once that to whomsoever it belonged its owner would never recover it,
+for it was grazing on the far side of the great &quot;Muskeg,&quot; that mighty
+bottomless mire which extends for forty miles north and south and whose
+narrowest breadth is a span of ten miles. She was looking across it now,
+and innocent enough that level plain of terror appeared at that moment.
+And yet it was the curse of the ranching district, for, annually,
+hundreds of cattle met an untimely death in its cruel, absorbing bosom.</p>
+
+<p>She turned away for the purpose of fetching a pair of field-glasses. She
+was anxious to identify the horse. She passed along the veranda
+towards the furthest window. It was the window of her uncle's office.
+Just as she was nearing it she heard the sound of voices coming from
+within. She paused, and an ominous pucker drew her brows together. Her
+beautiful dark face clouded. She had no wish to play the part of an
+eavesdropper, but she had recognized the voices of her uncle and
+Lablache. She had also heard the mention of her own name. What woman,
+or, for that matter, man, can refrain from listening when they hear two
+people talking about them. The window was open; Jacky paused&mdash;and
+listened.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's thick voice lolled heavily upon the brisk air.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is a good girl. But don't you think you are considering her future
+from a rather selfish point of view, John?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Selfish?&quot; The old man laughed in his hearty manner &quot;Maybe you're right,
+though. I never thought of that. You see I'm getting old now. I can't
+get around like I used to. Bless me, she's two-an'-twenty.
+Three-and-twenty years since my brother Dick&mdash;God rest his
+soul!&mdash;married that half-breed girl, Josie. Yes, I guess you're right,
+she's bound to marry soon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky smiled a curious dark smile. Something told her why Lablache and
+her uncle were discussing her future.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, of course she is,&quot; said Lablache, &quot;and when that happy event is
+accomplished I hope it will not be with any improvident&mdash;harum-scarum
+man like&mdash;like&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Hon. Bunning-Ford I suppose you would say, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a somewhat sharp tone in the old man's voice which Jacky was
+not slow to detect.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; went on Lablache, with one of those deep whistling breaths which
+made him so like an ancient pug, &quot;since you mention him, for want of a
+better specimen of improvidence, his name will do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So I thought&mdash;so I thought,&quot; laughed the old man. But his words rang
+strangely. &quot;Most people think,&quot; he went on, &quot;that when I die Jacky will
+be rich. But she won't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; replied Lablache, emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>There was a world of meaning in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;However, I guess we can let her hunt around for herself when she wants
+a husband. Jacky's a girl with a head. A sight better head than I've got
+on my old shoulders. When she chooses a husband, and comes and tells me
+of it, she shall have my blessing and anything else I have to give. I'm
+not going to interfere with that girl's matrimonial affairs, sir, not
+for any one. That child, bless her heart, is like my own child to me. If
+she wants the moon, and there's nothing else to stop her having it but
+my consent, why, I guess that moon's as good as fenced in with
+triple-barbed wire an' registered in her name in the Government Land
+Office.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And in the meantime you are going to make that same child work for her
+daily bread like any 'hired man,' and keep company with any scoun&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hi, stop there, Lablache! Stop there,&quot; thundered &quot;Poker&quot; John, and
+Jacky heard a thud as of a fist falling upon the table. &quot;You've taken
+the unwarrantable liberty of poking your nose into my affairs, and,
+because of our old acquaintance, I have allowed it. But now let me tell
+you this is no d&mdash;&mdash;d business of yours. There's no make with Jacky.
+What she does, she does of her own accord.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the girl in question walked abruptly in from the veranda.
+She had heard enough.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, uncle,&quot; she said, smiling tenderly up into the old man's face,
+&quot;talking of me, I guess. You shouted my name just as I was coming along.
+Say, I want the field-glasses. Where are they?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned on Lablache as if she had only just become aware of his
+presence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What, Mr. Lablache, you here? And so early, too. Guess this isn't like
+you. How is your store&mdash;that temple of wealth and high interest&mdash;to get
+on without you? How are the 'improvident'&mdash;'harum-scarums' to live if
+you are not present to minister to their wants&mdash;upon the best of
+security?&quot; Without waiting for a reply the girl picked up the glasses
+she was in search of and darted out, leaving Lablache glaring his
+bilious-eyed rage after her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John stood for a moment a picture of blank surprise; then he
+burst into a loud guffaw at the discomfited money-lender. Jacky heard
+the laugh and smiled. Then she passed out of earshot and concentrated
+her attention upon the distant speck of animal life.</p>
+
+<p>The girl stood for some moments surveying the creature as it moved
+leisurely along, its nose well down amongst the roots of the tawny
+grass, seeking out the tender green shoots of the new-born pasture. Then
+she closed her glasses and her thoughts wandered to other matters.</p>
+
+<p>The gorgeous landscape was, for a moment, utterly lost upon her. The
+snowy peaks of the Rockies, stretching far as the eye could see away to
+the north and south, like some giant fortification set up to defend the
+rolling pastures of the prairies from the ceaseless attack of the stormy
+Pacific Ocean, were far from her thoughts. Her eyes, it is true, were
+resting on the level flat of the muskeg, beyond the grove of slender
+pines which lined the approach to the house, but she was not thinking of
+that. No, recollection was struggling back through two years of a busy
+life, to a time when, for a brief space, she had watched over the
+welfare of another than her uncle, when the dark native blood which
+flowed plentifully in her veins had asserted itself, and a nature which
+was hers had refused to remain buried beneath a superficial European
+training. She was thinking of a man who had formed a secret part of her
+life for a few short years, when she had allowed her heart to dictate a
+course for her actions which no other motive but that of love could have
+brought about. She was thinking of Peter Retief, a pretty scoundrel, a
+renowned &quot;bad man,&quot; a man of wild and reckless daring. He had been the
+terror of the countryside. A cattle-thief who feared neither man nor
+devil; a man who for twelve months and more had carried, his life in his
+hands, the sworn enemy of law and order, but who, in his worst moments,
+had never been known to injure a poor man or a woman. The wild blood of
+the half-breed that was in her had been stirred, as only a woman's blood
+can be, by his reckless dealings, his courage, effrontery, and withal
+his wondrous kindliness of disposition. She was thinking of this man
+now, this man whom she knew to be numbered amongst the countless victims
+of that dreadful mire. And what had conjured this thought? A horse&mdash;a
+horse peacefully grazing far out across the mire in the direction of the
+distant hills which she knew had once been this desperado's home.</p>
+
+<p>Her train of recollection suddenly became broken, and a sigh escaped her
+as the sound of her uncle's voice fell upon her ears. She did not move,
+however, for she knew that Lablache was with him, and this man she hated
+with the fiery hatred only to be found in the half-breeds of any native
+race.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm sorry, John, we can't agree on the point,&quot; Lablache was saying in
+his wheezy voice, as the two men stood at the other end of the veranda,
+&quot;but I'm quite determined Upon the matter myself. The land intersects
+mine and cuts me clean off from the railway siding, and I am forced to
+take my cattle a circle of nearly fifteen miles to ship them. If he
+would only be reasonable and allow a passage I would say nothing. I will
+force him to sell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you can,&quot; put in the rancher. &quot;I reckon you've got chilled steel to
+deal with when you endeavor to 'force' old Joe Norton to sell the finest
+wheat land in the country.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this point in the conversation three men came round from the back of
+the house. They were &quot;cow&quot; hands belonging to the ranch. They approached
+Jacky with the easy assurance of men who were as much companions as
+servants of their mistress. All three, however, touched their
+wide-brimmed hats in unmistakable respect. They were clad in buckskin
+shirts and leather &quot;chaps,&quot; and each had his revolver upon his hip. The
+girl lost the rest of the conversation between her uncle and Lablache,
+for her attention was turned to the men.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; she asked shortly, as the men stood before her.</p>
+
+<p>One of the men, a tall, lank specimen of the dark-skinned prairie
+half-breed, acted as spokesman.</p>
+
+<p>He ejected a squirt of tobacco juice from his great, dirty mouth before
+he spoke. Then with a curious backward jerk of the head he blurted out a
+stream of Western jargon.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, missie,&quot; he exclaimed in a high-pitched nasal voice, &quot;it ain't no
+use in talkin', ye kent put no tenderfoot t' boss the round-up. There's
+them all-fired Donoghue lot jest sent right in t' say, 'cause, I s'pose,
+they reckon as they're the high muck-i-muck o' this location, that that
+tarnation Sim Lory, thar head man, is to cap' the round-up. Why, he
+ain't cast a blamed foot on the prairie sence he's been hyar. An' I'll
+swear he don't know the horn o' his saddle from a monkey stick. Et ain't
+right, missie, an' us fellers t' work under him an' all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His address came to an abrupt end, and he gave emphasis to his words by
+a prolonged expectoration. Jacky, her eyes sparkling with anger, was
+quick to reply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look you here, Silas, just go right off and throw your saddle on your
+pony&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess it's right thar, missie,&quot; the man interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then sling off as fast as your plug can lay foot to the ground, and
+give John Allandale's compliments to Jim Donoghue and say, if they don't
+send a capable man, since they've been appointed to find the 'captain,'
+he'll complain to the Association and insist on the penalty being
+enforced. What, do they take us for a lot of 'gophers'? Sim Lory,
+indeed; why, he's not fit to prise weeds with a two tine hay fork.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The men went off hurriedly. Their mistress's swift methods of dealing
+with matters pleased them. Silas was more than pleased to be able to get
+a &quot;slant&quot; (to use his own expression) at his old enemy, Sim Lory. As the
+men departed &quot;Poker&quot; John came and stood beside his niece.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's that about Sim Lory, Jacky?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They've sent him to run this 'round-up.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I just told them it wouldn't do,&quot; indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>Old John smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In those words?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, no, uncle,&quot; the girl said with a responsive smile. &quot;But they
+needed a 'jinning' up. I sent the message in your name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head, but his indulgent smile remained.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You'll be getting me into serious trouble with that impetuosity of
+yours, Jacky,&quot; he said absently. &quot;But there&mdash;I daresay you know best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His words were characteristic of him. He left the entire control of the
+ranch to this girl of two-and-twenty, relying implicitly upon her
+judgment in all things. It was a strange thing to do, for he was still a
+vigorous man. To look at him was to make oneself wonder at the reason.
+But the girl accepted the responsibility without question. There was a
+subtle sympathy between uncle and niece. Sometimes Jacky would gaze up
+into his handsome old face and something in the twitching cheek, the
+curiously-shaped mouth, hidden beneath the gray mustache, would cause
+her to turn away with a sigh, and, with stimulated resolution, hurl
+herself into the arduous labors of managing the ranch. What she read in
+that dear, honest face she loved so well she kept locked in her own
+secret heart, and never, by word or act, did she allow herself to betray
+it. She was absolute mistress of the Foss River Ranch and she knew it.
+Old &quot;Poker&quot; John, like the morphine &quot;fiend,&quot; merely continued to keep up
+his reputation and the more fully deserve his sobriquet. His mind, his
+character, his whole being was being slowly but surely absorbed in the
+lust of gambling.</p>
+
+<p>The girl laid her hand upon the old man's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle&mdash;what was Lablache talking to you about? I mean when I came for
+the field-glasses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was gazing abstractedly into the dense growth of pines
+which fringed the house. He pulled himself together, but his eyes had in
+them a far-away look.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Many things,&quot; he replied evasively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know, dear, but,&quot; bending her face while she removed one of her
+buckskin gauntlets from her hand, &quot;I mean about me. You two
+were-discussing me, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She turned her keen gray eyes upon her relative as she finished
+speaking. The old man turned away. He felt that those eyes were reading
+his very soul. They made him uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, he said I ought not to let you associate with certain people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot; The sharp question came with the directness of a pistol-shot.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, he seemed to think that you might think of marrying.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He seemed to fancy that you, being impetuous, might make a mistake and
+fall&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In love with the wrong man. Yes, I understand; and from his point of
+view, if ever I do marry it will undoubtedly be the wrong man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And the girl finished up with a mirthless laugh.</p>
+
+<p>They stood for some moments in silence. They were both thinking. The
+noise from the corrals behind the house reached them. The steady drip,
+drip of the water from the melting snow upon the roof of the house
+sounded loudly as it fell on the sodden ground beneath.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle, did it ever strike you that that greasy money-lender wants to
+marry me himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The question startled John Allandale more than anything else could have
+done. He turned sharply round and faced his niece.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Marry you, Jacky?&quot; he repeated. &quot;I never thought of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It isn't to be supposed that you would have done so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was the faintest tinge of bitterness in the girl's answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And do you really think that he wants to marry you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know quite. Perhaps I am wrong, uncle, and my imagination has
+run away with me. Yes, I sometimes think he wants to marry me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They both relapsed into silence. Then her uncle spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky, what you have just said has made something plain to me which I
+could not understand before. He came and gave me&mdash;unsolicited, mind&mdash;&quot;a
+little eagerly, &quot;a detailed account of Bunning-Ford's circumstances,
+and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Endeavored to bully you into sending him about his business. Poor old
+Bill! And what was his account of him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl's eyes were glowing with quickly-roused passion, but she kept
+them turned from her uncle's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He told me that the boy had heavy mortgages on his land and stock. He
+told me that if he were to realize to-morrow there would be little or
+nothing for himself. Everything would go to some firm in Calford. In
+short, that he has gambled his ranch away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And he told this to you, uncle, dear.&quot; Then the girl paused and looked
+far out across the great muskeg. In her abrupt fashion she turned again
+to the old man. &quot;Uncle,&quot; she went on, &quot;tell me truly, do you owe
+anything to Lablache? Has he any hold upon you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a world of anxiety in her voice as she spoke. John Allandale
+tried to follow her thought before he answered. He seemed to grasp
+something of her meaning, for in a moment his eyes took on an expression
+of pain. Then his words came slowly, as from one who is not sure of what
+he is saying.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I owe him some&mdash;money&mdash;yes&mdash;but&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The question was jerked viciously from the girl's lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky turned slowly away until her eyes rested upon the distant, grazing
+horse. A strange restlessness seemed to be upon her. She was fidgeting
+with the gauntlet which she had just removed. Then slowly her right hand
+passed round to her hip, where it rested upon the butt of her revolver.
+There was a tight drawnness about her lips and her keen gray eyes looked
+as though gazing into space.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How much?&quot; she said at last, breaking the heavy silence which had
+followed upon her uncle's admission. Then before he could answer she
+went on deliberately: &quot;But there&mdash;I guess it don't cut any figure.
+Lablache shall be paid, and I take it his bill of interest won't amount
+to more than we can pay if we're put to it. Poor old Bill!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V" />CHAPTER V - THE &quot;STRAY&quot; BEYOND THE MUSKEG</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Foss River Settlement nestles in one of those shallow
+hollows&mdash;scarcely a valley and which yet must be designated by such a
+term&mdash;in which the Canadian North-West abounds.</p>
+
+<p>We are speaking now of the wilder and less-inhabited parts of the great
+country, where grain-growing is only incidental, and the prevailing
+industry is stock-raising. Where the land gradually rises towards the
+maze-like foothills before the mighty crags of the Rockies themselves be
+reached. A part where yet is to be heard of the romantic crimes of the
+cattle-raiders; a part to where civilization has already turned its
+face, but where civilizaton has yet to mature. In such a country is
+situate the Foss River Settlement.</p>
+
+<p>The settlement itself is like dozens of others of its kind. There is the
+school-house, standing by itself, apart from other buildings, as if in
+proud distinction for its classic vocation. There is the church, or
+rather chapel, where every denomination holds its services. A saloon,
+where four per cent. beer and prohibition whiskey of the worst
+description is openly sold over the bar; where you can buy poker &quot;chips&quot;
+to any amount, and can sit down and play from daylight till dark, from
+dark to daylight. A blacksmith and wheelwright; a baker; a carpenter; a
+doctor who is also a druggist; a store where one can buy every article
+of dry goods at exorbitant prices&mdash;and on credit; and then, besides all
+this, well beyond the township limit there is a half-breed settlement, a
+place which even to this day is a necessary evil and a constant thorn
+in the side of that smart, efficient force&mdash;the North-West Mounted
+Police.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's store stands in the center of the settlement, facing on to
+the market-place&mdash;the latter a vague, undefined space of waste ground on
+which vendors of produce are wont to draw up their wagons. The store is
+a massive building of great extent. Its proportions rise superior to its
+surroundings, as if to indicate in a measure its owner's worldly status
+in the district It is built entirely of stone, and roofed with
+slate&mdash;the only building of such construction in the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>A wonderful center of business is Lablache's store&mdash;the chief one for a
+radius of fifty miles. Nearly the whole building is given up to the
+stocking of goods, and only at the back of the building is to be found a
+small office which answers the multifarious purposes of office, parlor,
+dining-room, smoking-room&mdash;in short, every necessity of its owner,
+except bedroom, which occupies a mere recess partitioned off by thin
+matchwood boarding.</p>
+
+<p>Wealthy as Lablache was known to be he spent little or no money upon
+himself beyond just sufficient to purchase the bare necessities of life.
+He had few requirements which could not be satisfied under the headings
+of tobacco and food&mdash;both of which he indulged himself freely. The
+saloon provided the latter, and as for the former, trade price was best
+suited to his inclinations, and so he drew upon his stock. He was a
+curious man, was Verner Lablache&mdash;a man who understood the golden value
+of silence. He never even spoke of his nationality. Foss River was
+content to call him curious&mdash;some people preferred other words to
+express their opinion.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache had known John Allandale for years. Who, in Foss River, had he
+not known for years? Lablache would have liked to call old John his
+friend, but somehow &quot;Poker&quot; John had never responded to the
+money-lender's advances. Lablache showed no resentment. If he cared at
+all he was careful to keep his feelings hidden. One thing is certain,
+however, he allowed himself to think long and often of old John&mdash;and his
+household. Often, when in the deepest stress of his far-reaching work,
+he would heave his great bulk back in his chair and allow those fishy,
+lashless, sphinx-like eyes of his to gaze out of his window in the
+direction of the Foss River Ranch. His window faced in the direction of
+John's house, which was plainly visible on the slope which bounded the
+southern side of the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>And so it came about a few days later, in one of these digressions of
+thought, that the money-lender, gazing out towards the ranch, beheld a
+horseman riding slowly up to the veranda of the Allandale's house. There
+was nothing uncommon in the incident, but the sight riveted his
+attention, and an evil light came into his usually expressionless eyes.
+He recognized the horseman as the Hon. Bunning-Ford.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache swung round on his revolving chair, and, in doing so, kicked
+over a paper-basket. The rapidity of his movement was hardly to be
+expected in one of his bulk. His thin eyebrows drew together in an ugly
+frown.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does he want?&quot; he muttered, under his heavy breath.</p>
+
+<p>He hazarded no answer to his own question. It was answered for him. He
+saw the figure of a woman step out on to the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender rose swiftly to his feet and took a pair of
+field-glasses from their case. Adjusting them he gazed long and
+earnestly at the house on the hill.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was talking to &quot;Lord&quot; Bill. She was habited in her dungaree skirt
+and buckskin bodice. Presently Bill dismounted and passed into the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shut his glasses with a snap and turned away from the window.
+For some time he stood gazing straight before him and a swift torrent of
+thought flowed through his active brain. Then, with the directness of
+one whose mind is made up, he went over to a small safe which stood in
+a corner of the room. From this he took an account book. The cover bore
+the legend &quot;Private.&quot; He laid it upon the table, and, for some moments,
+bent over it as he scanned its pages.</p>
+
+<p>He paused at an account headed John Allandale. The figures of this
+account were very large, totalling into six figures. The balance against
+the rancher was enormous. Lablache gave a satisfied grunt as he turned
+over to another account.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Safe&mdash;safe enough. Safe as the Day of Doom,&quot; he said slowly. His mouth
+worked with a cruel smile.</p>
+
+<p>He paused at the account of Bunning-Ford.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Twenty thousand dollars&mdash;um,&quot; the look of satisfaction was changed. He
+looked less pleased, but none the less cruel. &quot;Not enough&mdash;let me see.
+His place is worth fifty thousand dollars. Stock another thirty
+thousand. I hold thirty-five thousand on first mortgage for the Calford
+Trust and Loan Co.&quot; He smiled significantly. &quot;This bill of sale for
+twenty thousand is in my own name. Total, fifty-five thousand. Sell him
+up and there would still be a margin. No, not yet, my friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He closed the book and put it away. Then he walked to the window.
+Bunning-Ford's horse was still standing outside the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He must be dealt with soon,&quot; he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>And in those words was concentrated a world of hate and cruel purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Who shall say of what a man's disposition is composed? Who shall
+penetrate those complex feelings which go to make a man what his secret
+consciousness knows himself to be? Not even the man himself can tell the
+why and wherefore of his passions and motives. It is a matter beyond the
+human ken. It is a matter which neither science nor learning can tell us
+of. Verner Lablache was possessed of all that prosperity could give him.
+He was wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, and no pleasure which money
+could buy was beyond his reach. He knew, only too well, that when the
+moment came, and he wished it, he could set out for any of the great
+centers of fashion and society, and there purchase for himself a wife
+who would fulfill the requirements of the most fastidious. In his own
+arrogant mind he went further, and protested that he could choose whom
+he would and she would be his. But this method he set aside as too
+simple, and, instead, had decided to select for his wife a girl whom he
+had watched grow up to womanhood from the first day that she had opened
+her great, wondering eyes upon the world. And thus far he had been
+thwarted. All his wealth went for nothing. The whim of this girl he had
+chosen was more powerful in this matter than was gold&mdash;the gold he
+loved. But Lablache was not the man to sit down and admit of defeat; he
+meant to marry Joaquina Allandale willy-nilly. Love was impossible to
+such a man as he. He had conceived an absorbing passion for her, it is
+true, but love&mdash;as it is generally understood&mdash;no. He was not a young
+man&mdash;the victim of a passion, fierce but transient. He was matured in
+all respects&mdash;in mind and body. His passion was lasting, if impure, and
+he meant to take to himself the girl-wife. Nothing should stand in his
+way.</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to his desk, but not to work.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime the object of his forcible attentions was holding an
+interesting <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> with the man against whom he fostered an evil
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was seated at a table in the pleasant sitting-room of her uncle's
+house. Spread out before her were several open stock books, from which
+she was endeavoring to estimate the probable number of &quot;beeves&quot; which
+the early spring would produce. This was a task which she always liked
+to do herself before the round-up was complete, so as the easier to sort
+the animals into their various pastures when they should come in. Her
+visitor was standing with his back to the stove, in typical Canadian
+fashion. He was, clad in a pair of well-worn chaps drawn over a pair of
+moleskin trousers, and wore a gray tweed coat and waistcoat over a soft
+cotton shirt, of the &quot;collar attached&quot; type. As he stood there the stoop
+of his shoulders was very pronounced. His fair hair was carefully
+brushed, and although his face was slightly weather-stained, still, it
+was quite easy to imagine the distinguished figure he would be, clad in
+all the solemn pomp of broadcloth and the silk glaze of fashionable
+society in the neighborhood of Bond Street.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was not looking at her books. She was looking up and smiling at
+a remark her companion had just made.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so your friend, Pat Nabob, is going up into the mountains after
+gold. Does he know anything about prospecting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think so&mdash;he's had some experience.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky became serious. She rose and turned to the window, which commanded
+a perfect view of the distant peaks of the Rockies, towering high above
+the broad, level expanse of the great muskeg. With her back still turned
+to him she fired an abrupt question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, Bill, guess 'Pickles' has some other reason for this mad scheme.
+What is it? You can't tell me he's going just for love of the adventure
+of the thing. Now, let's hear the truth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Unobserved by the girl, her companion shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you want his reason you'd better ask him, Jacky. I can only
+surmise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So can I.&quot; Jacky turned sharply. &quot;I'll tell you why he's going, Bill,
+and you can bet your last cent I'm right. Lablache is at the bottom of
+it. He's at the bottom of everything that causes people to leave Foss
+River. He's a blood-sucker.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford nodded. He was rarely expansive. Moreover, he knew he could
+add nothing to what the girl had said. She expressed his sentiments
+fully. There was a pause. Jacky was keenly eyeing the tall thin figure
+at the stove.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why did you come to tell me of this?&quot; she asked at last.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thought you'd like to know. You like 'Pickles.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;Bill, you are thinking of going with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her companion laughed uneasily. This girl was very keen.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I didn't say so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, but still you are thinking of doing so. See here, Bill, tell me all
+about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill coughed. Then he turned, and stooping, shook the ashes from the
+stove and opened the damper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Beastly cold in here,&quot; he remarked inconsequently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;but, out with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill stood up and turned his indolent eyes upon his interrogator.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wasn't thinking of going&mdash;to the mountains.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the Yukon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In spite of herself the girl could not help the exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot; she went on a moment later.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, if you must have it, I shan't be able to last out this
+summer&mdash;unless a stroke of luck falls to my share.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Financially?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Financially.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;and the Calford Trust Co.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The same thing,&quot; with conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Exactly&mdash;the same thing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you stand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I meet the interest on my mortgages it will take away every head of
+fat cattle I can scrape together, and then I cannot pay Lablache other
+debts which fall due in two weeks' time.&quot; He quietly drew out his
+tobacco-pouch and rolled a cigarette. He seemed quite indifferent to his
+difficulties. &quot;If I realize on the ranch now there'll be something left
+for me. If I go on, by the end of the summer there won't be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose you mean that you will be deeper in debt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He smiled in his own peculiarly lazy fashion as he held a lighted match
+to his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so. I shall owe Lablache more,&quot; he said, between spasmodic draws
+at his tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache has wonderful luck at cards.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky returned to the table and sat down. She turned the pages of a
+stock book idly. She was thinking and the expression of her dark,
+determined little face indicated the unpleasant nature of her thoughts.
+Presently she looked up and encountered the steady gaze of her
+companion. They were great friends&mdash;these two. In that glance each read
+in the other's mind something of a mutual thought. Jacky, with womanly
+readiness, put part of it into words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No one ever seems to win against him, Bill. Guess he makes a steady
+income out of poker.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man nodded and gulped down a deep inhalation from his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wonderful luck,&quot; the girl went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some people call it 'luck,'&quot; put in Bill, quietly, but with a curious
+purse of the lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you call it?&quot; sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford refused to commit himself. He contented himself with
+blowing the ash from his cigarette and crossing over to the window,
+where he stood looking out. He had come there that afternoon with a
+half-formed intention of telling this girl something which every girl
+must hope to hear sooner or later in her life. He had come there with
+the intention of ending, one way or the other, a
+friendship&mdash;<i>camaraderie</i>&mdash;whatever you please to call it, by telling
+this hardy girl of the prairie the old, old story over again. He loved
+this woman with an intensity that very few would have credited him with.
+Who could associate lazy, good-natured, careless &quot;Lord&quot; Bill with
+serious love? Certainly not his friends. And yet such was the case, and
+for that reason had he come. The affairs of Pat Nabob were but a
+subterfuge. And now he found it impossible to pronounce the words he had
+so carefully thought out. Jacky was not the woman to approach easily
+with sentiment, she was so &quot;deucedly practical.&quot; So Bill said to
+himself. It was useless to speculate upon her feelings. This girl never
+allowed anything approaching sentiment to appear upon the surface. She
+knew better than to do so. She had the grave responsibility of her
+uncle's ranch upon her shoulders, therefore all men must be kept at
+arm's length. She was in every sense a woman, passionate, loyal, loving.
+But in addition nature had endowed her with a spirit which rose superior
+to feminine attributes and feelings. The blood in her veins&mdash;her life on
+the prairie&mdash;her tender care and solicitude for her uncle, of whose
+failings and weaknesses she was painfully aware, had caused her to put
+from her all thoughts of love and marriage. Her life must be devoted to
+him, and while he lived she was determined that no thought of self
+should interfere with her self-imposed duty.</p>
+
+<p>At last &quot;Lord&quot; Bill broke the silence which had fallen upon the room
+after the girl's unanswered question. His remark seemed irrevelant and
+inconsequent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's a horse on the other side of the muskeg. Who's is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was at his side in an instant. So suddenly had she bounded from
+the table, that her companion turned, with that lazy glance of his, and
+looked keenly at her. He failed to understand her excitement. She had
+snatched up a pair of field-glasses and had already leveled them at the
+distant object.</p>
+
+<p>She looked long and earnestly across the miry waste. Then she turned to
+her companion with a strange look in her beautiful gray eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, I've seen that horse before. Four days ago. I've looked for it
+ever since, but couldn't see it. I'm going to round it up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh? How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill was looking out across the muskeg again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I'm going right across there this evening,&quot; the girl said
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Across the muskeg?&quot; Her companion was roused out of himself. His
+usually lazy gray eyes were gleaming brightly. &quot;Impossible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not at all, Bill,&quot; she replied, with an easy smile. &quot;I know the path.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I thought there was only one man who ever knew that mythical path,
+and&mdash;he is dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite right, Bill&mdash;only one <i>man</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then the old stories&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a peculiar expression on the man's face. The girl interrupted
+him with a gay laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bother the 'old stories.' I'm going across there this evening after
+tea&mdash;coming?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford looked across at the clock&mdash;the hands pointed to half-past
+one. He was silent for a minute. Then he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll be with you at four if&mdash;if you'll tell me all about&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter Retief&mdash;yes, I'll tell you as we go, Bill. What are you going to
+do until then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm going down to the saloon to meet 'Pickles,' your pet aversion,
+Pedro Mancha, and we're going to find a fourth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, poker?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, poker.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm sorry, Bill. But be here at four sharp and I'll tell you all about
+it. See here, boy, 'mum's' the word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The craving of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's life was excitement. His
+temperament bordered on the lethargic. He felt that unless he could
+obtain excitement life was utterly unbearable. He had sought it all over
+the world before he had adopted the life of a rancher. Here in the West
+of Canada he had found something of what he sought. There was the big
+game shooting in the mountains, and the pursuit of the &quot;grizzly&quot; is the
+most wildly enthralling chase in the world. There was the taming and
+&quot;breaking&quot; of the wild and furious &quot;broncho&quot;&mdash;the most exemplary
+&quot;bucking&quot; horse in the world. There was the &quot;round-up&quot; and handling of
+cattle which never failed to give unlimited excitement. And then, at all
+times, was the inevitable poker, that king of all excitements among card
+games. The West of Canada had pleased &quot;Lord&quot; Bill as did no other
+country, and so he had invested the remains of his younger son's portion
+in stock.</p>
+
+<p>He had asked for excitement and Canada had responded generously. Bill
+had found more than excitement, he had found love; and had found a
+wealth of real friendship rarely equaled in the busy cities of
+civilization.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of all these things which, seeking, he had found, came this
+suggestion from a girl. The muskeg&mdash;the cruel, relentless muskeg, that
+mire, dreaded and shunned by white men and natives alike. It could be
+crossed by a secret, path. The thought pleased him. And none knew of
+this path except a man who was dead and this girl he loved. There was a
+strange excitement in the thought of such a journey.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill, ignoring his stirrup, vaulted into his saddle, and, as he
+swung his horse round and headed towards the settlement, he wondered
+what the day would bring forth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Confound the cards,&quot; he muttered, as he rode away.</p>
+
+<p>And it was the first time in his life that he had reluctantly
+contemplated a gamble.</p>
+
+<p>Had he only known it, a turning-point in his life was rapidly
+approaching&mdash;a turning-point which would lead to events which, if told
+as about to occur in the nineteenth century, would surely bring down
+derision upon the head of the teller. And yet would the derided one have
+right on his side.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI" />CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<p>&quot;WAYS THAT ARE DARK&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>It was less than a quarter of a mile from the Allandales' house to the
+saloon&mdash;a den of reeking atmosphere and fouler spirits.</p>
+
+<p>The saloon at Foss River was no better and no worse than hundreds of
+others in the North-West at the time of which we write. It was a fairly
+large wooden building standing at the opposite end of the open space
+which answered the purpose of a market-place, and facing Lablache's
+store. Inside, it was gloomy, and the air invariably reeked of stale
+tobacco and drink. The bar was large, and at one end stood a piano kept
+for the purpose of &quot;sing-songs&quot;&mdash;nightly occurrences when the execrable
+whisky had done its work. Passing through the bar one finds a large
+dining-room on one side of a passage, and, on the other, a number of
+smaller rooms devoted to the use of those who wished to play poker.</p>
+
+<p>It was towards this place that the Hon. Bunning-Ford was riding in the
+leisurely manner of one to whom time is no object.</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts were far from matters pertaining to his destination, and he
+would gladly have welcomed anything which could have interfered with his
+projected game. For the moment poker had lost its charm.</p>
+
+<p>This man was at no time given to vacillation. All his methods were, as a
+rule, very direct. Underneath his easy nonchalance he was of a very
+decided nature. His thin face at times could suddenly become very keen.
+His true character was hidden by the cultivated lazy expression of his
+eyes. Bunning-Ford was one of those men who are at their best in
+emergency. At all other times life was a thing which it was impossible
+for him to take seriously. He valued money as little as he valued
+anything in the world. Poker he looked upon as a means to an end. He had
+no religious principles, but firmly believed in doing as he would be
+done by. Honesty and truth he loved, because to him they were clean. It
+mattered nothing to him what his surroundings might be, for, though
+living in them, he was not of them. He would as soon sit down to play
+cards with three known murderers as play in the best club in London, and
+he would treat them honestly and expect the same in return&mdash;but a loaded
+revolver would be slung upon his hip and the holster would be open and
+handy.</p>
+
+<p>As he neared the saloon he recognized the figures of two men walking in
+the direction of the saloon. They were the doctor and John Allandale. He
+rode towards them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hallo, Bill, whither bound?&quot; said the old rancher, as the younger man
+came up. &quot;Going to join us in the parlor of Smith's fragrant hostelry?
+The spider is already there weaving the web in which he hopes to ensnare
+us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who's the spider&mdash;Lablache?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we're going to play. It's the first time for some days. Guess
+we've all been too busy with the round-up. Won't you really join us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't. I've promised Mancha and 'Pickles' revenge for a game we played
+the other night, when I happened to relieve them of a few dollars.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sensible man&mdash;Lablache is too consistent,&quot; put in the doctor, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nonsense,&quot; said &quot;Poker&quot; John, optimistically. &quot;You're always carping
+about the man's luck. We must break it soon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we've suggested that before.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill spoke with meaning and finished up with a purse of the lips.</p>
+
+<p>They were near the saloon.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How long are you going to play?&quot; he went on quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right through the evening,&quot; replied &quot;Poker&quot; John, with keen
+satisfaction. &quot;And you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only until four o'clock. I am going to take tea up at your place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man offered no comment and Bill dismounted and tied the horse to
+a post, and the three men entered the stuffy bar. The room was half full
+of people. They were mostly cow-boys or men connected with the various
+ranches about the neighborhood. Words of greeting hailed the new-comers
+on all sides, but old John, who led the way, took little or no notice of
+those whom he recognized. The lust of gambling was upon him, and, as a
+dipsomaniac craves for drink, so he was longing to feel the smooth
+surface of pasteboard between his fingers. While Bunning-Ford stopped to
+exchange a word with some of those he met, the other two men went
+straight up to the bar. Smith himself, a grizzled old man, with a
+tobacco-stained gray moustache and beard, and the possessor of a pair of
+narrow, wicked-looking eyes, was serving out whisky to a couple of
+worse-looking half-breeds. It was noticeable that every man present wore
+at his waist either a revolver or a long sheath knife. Even the
+proprietor was fully armed. The half-breeds wore knives.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was apparently a man of distinction here. Possibly the
+knowledge that he played a big game elicited for him a sort of
+indifferent respect. Anyway, the half-breeds moved to allow him to
+approach the bar.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache here?&quot; asked the rancher, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is,&quot; replied Mr. Smith, in a drawling voice, as he pushed the two
+whiskies across to the waiting half-breeds. &quot;Been here half an hour.
+Jest pass right through, mister. Maybe you'll find him located in number
+two.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt that John B. Smith hailed from America. Although the
+Canadian is not devoid of the American accent there is not much doubt of
+nationality when one hears the real thing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good; come on, Doc. No, thanks, Smith,&quot; as the man behind the bar
+reached towards a bottle with a white seal. &quot;We'll have something later
+on. Number two on the right, I think you said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two men passed on into the back part of the premises.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess dollars'll be flyin' 'fore the night's out,&quot; said Smith,
+addressing any who cared to listen, and indicating &quot;Poker&quot; John with a
+jerk of the head in the direction of the door through which the two men
+had just passed. &quot;Make the banks hum when they raise the 'bid.' Guess
+ther' ain't many o' ther' likes roun' these parts. Rye or Scotch?&quot; to
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill and three other men who came up at that moment. Mancha and
+&quot;Pickles&quot; were with him, and a fourth player&mdash;the deposed captain of the
+&quot;round-up,&quot; Sim Lory.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Scotch, you old heathen, of course,&quot; replied Bill, with a tolerant
+laugh. &quot;You don't expect us to drink fire-water. If you kept decent Rye
+it would be different. We're going to have a flutter. Any room?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Number two, I guess. Chock-a-block in the others. Tolerable run on
+poker these times. All the round-up hands been gettin' advances, I take
+it. Say when.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The four men said &quot;when&quot; in due course, and each watered his own whisky.
+The proprietor went on, with a quick twinkle of his beady eyes,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ther's Mr. Allandale an' Lablache and company in number two. Nobody
+else, I guess. I've a notion you'll find plenty of room. Chips, no? All
+right; goin' to play a tidy game? Good!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The four men, having swallowed their drink, followed in the footsteps of
+the others.</p>
+
+<p>There was something very brisk and business-like about this
+gambling-hell. Early settlers doubtless remember in the days of
+&quot;prohibition,&quot; when four per cent. beer was supposed to be the only
+beverage of the country, and before rigid legislation, backed by the
+armed force of the North-West Mounted Police, swept these frightful
+pollutions from the fair face of the prairie, how they thrived on the
+encouragement of gambling and the sale of contraband spirits. The West
+is a cleaner country now, thanks to the untiring efforts of the police.</p>
+
+<p>In number two &quot;Poker&quot; John and his companions were already getting to
+work when Bill and his friends entered. Beyond a casual remark they
+seemed to take little notice of each other. One and all were eager to
+begin the play.</p>
+
+<p>A deep silence quickly fell upon the room. It was the silence of
+suppressed excitement. A silence only broken by monosyllabic and almost
+whispered betting and &quot;raising&quot; as the games proceeded. An hour passed
+thus. At the table where Lablache and John Allandale were playing the
+usual luck prevailed. The money-lender seemed unable to do wrong, and at
+the other table Bunning-Ford was faring correspondingly badly. Pedro
+Mancha, the Mexican, a man of obscure past and who lived no one quite
+knew how, but who always appeared to find the necessary to gamble with,
+was the favored one of dame Fortune. Already he had heaped before him a
+pile of &quot;bills&quot; and I.O.U.'s most of which bore &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's signature.
+Looking on at either table, no one from outward signs could have said
+which way the luck was going. Only the scribblings of the pencils upon
+the memo pads and the gradual accumulation of the precious slips of
+paper before Lablache at one table and the wild-eyed, dark-skinned
+Mexican at the other, told the story of the ruin which was surely being
+accomplished.</p>
+
+<p>At length, with a loser's privilege, Bunning-Ford, after glancing at his
+watch, rose from the table. His lean face was in no way disturbed. He
+seemed quite indifferent to his losses.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll quit you, Pedro,&quot; he said, smiling lazily down at the Mexican.
+&quot;You're a bit too hot for me to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dark-skinned man smiled a vague, non-committing smile and displayed
+a double row of immaculate teeth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good. You shall have your revenge. Doubtless you would like some of
+these papers back,&quot; he said, as he swept them leisurely into his
+pocket-book, and then sugar-bagging a cigarette paper he poured a few
+grains of granulated tobacco into it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I daresay I shall relieve you of some later on,&quot; replied Bill,
+quietly. Then he turned to the other table and stood watching the play.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced anxiously at the bare table in front of the old rancher. Even
+Dr. Abbot was well stocked with slips of paper. Then his gaze fell upon
+the money-lender, behind whose huge back he was standing.</p>
+
+<p>He moved slightly to one side. It is an unwritten law amongst poker
+players, in a public place in the west of the American continent, that
+no onlooker should stand immediately behind any player. He moved to
+Lablache's right. The money-lender was dealing. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill lit a
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>The cards were dealt round. Then the draw. Then Lablache laid the pack
+down. Bunning-Ford had noted these things mechanically. Then something
+caught his attention. It was his very indifference which caused his
+sudden attention. Had he been following the game with his usual keenness
+he would only have been thinking of the betting.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was writing upon his memo, pad, which was a gorgeous effort in
+silver mounting. One of those oblong blocks with a broad band of
+burnished silver at the binding of the perforated leaves. He knew that
+this was the pad the money-lender always used; anyway, it was similar in
+all respects to his usual memorandum pads.</p>
+
+<p>How it was his attention had become fixed upon that pad he could not
+have told, but now an inspiration came to him. His face remained
+unchanged in its expression, but those lazy eyes of his gleamed wickedly
+as he leisurely puffed at his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>The bet went round. Lablache raised and raised again. Eventually the
+rancher &quot;saw&quot; him. The other took the pool. No word was spoken, but
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill gritted his teeth and viciously pitched his cigarette to
+the other end of the room.</p>
+
+<p>During the next two deals he allowed his attention to wander. Lablache
+dropped out one hand, and, in the next, he merely &quot;filled&quot; his &quot;ante&quot;
+and allowed the doctor to take in the pool. John Allandale's face was
+serious. The nervous twitching of the cheek was still, but the drawn
+lines around his mouth were in no way hidden by his gray mustache, nor
+did the eager light which burned luridly in his eyes for one moment
+deceive the onlooker as to the anxiety of mind which his features
+masked.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was Lablache's deal. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill concentrated his attention upon
+the dealer. The money-lender was left-handed. He held the pack in his
+right, and, in dealing, he was slow and slightly clumsy. The object of
+Bunning-Ford's attention quickly became apparent. Each card as it left
+the pack was passed over the burnished silver of the dealer's memorandum
+pad. It was smartly done, and Lablache was assisted by the fact that the
+piece of metal was inclined towards him. There was no necessity to look
+down deliberately to see the reflection of each card as it passed on its
+way to its recipient, a glance&mdash;just the glance necessary when dealing
+cards&mdash;and the money-lender, by a slight effort of memory, knew every
+hand that was out. Lablache was cheating.</p>
+
+<p>To say that &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was astonished would be wrong. He was not. He
+had long suspected it. The steady run of luck which Lablache had
+persisted in was too phenomenal. It was enough to set the densest
+thinking. Now everything was plain. Standing where he was, Bill had
+almost been able to read the index numerals himself. He gave no sign of
+his discovery. Apparently the matter was of no consequence to him, for
+he merely lit a fresh cigarette and walked towards the door. He turned
+as he was about to pass out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What time shall I tell Jacky to expect you home, John?&quot; he said
+quietly, addressing the old rancher.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked up with a swift, malevolent glance, but he said nothing.
+Old John turned a drawn face to the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supper, I guess,&quot; he said in a thick voice, husky from long silence.
+&quot;And tell Smith to send me in a bottle of 'white seal' and some
+glasses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right you are.&quot; Then &quot;Lord&quot; Bill passed out. &quot;Poker without whisky is
+bad,&quot; he muttered as he made his way back to the bar, &quot;but poker and
+whisky together can only be the beginning of the end. We'll see. Poor
+old John!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII" />CHAPTER VII - ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was on the stroke of four o'clock when Bunning-Ford left the saloon.
+He had said that he would be at the ranch at four, and usually he liked
+to be punctual. He was late now, however, and made no effort to make up
+time. Instead, he allowed his horse to walk leisurely in the direction
+of the Allandales' house. He wanted time to think before he again met
+Jacky.</p>
+
+<p>He was confronted by a problem which taxed all his wit. It was perhaps a
+fortunate thing that his was not a hasty temperament. He well knew the
+usual method of dealing with men who cheated at cards in those Western
+wilds. Each man carried his own law in his holster. He had realized
+instantly that Lablache was not a case for the usual treatment. Pistol
+law would have defeated its own ends. Such means would not recover the
+terrible losses of &quot;Poker&quot; John, neither would he recover thereby his
+own lost property. No, he congratulated himself upon the restraint he
+had exercised when he had checked his natural impulse to expose the
+money-lender. Now, however, the case looked more complicated, and, for
+the moment, he could see no possible means of solving the difficulty.
+Lablache must be made to disgorge&mdash;but how? John Allandale must be
+stopped playing and further contributing to Lablache's ill-gotten gains.
+Again&mdash;but how?</p>
+
+<p>Bill was roused out of his usual apathetic indifference. The moment had
+arrived when he must set aside the old indolent carelessness. He was
+stirred to the core. A duty had been suddenly forced upon him. A duty to
+himself and also a duty to those he loved. Lablache had consistently
+robbed him, and also the uncle of the girl he loved. Now, how to
+restore that property and prevent the villain's further depredations?</p>
+
+<p>Again and again he asked himself the question as he allowed his horse to
+mouche, with slovenly step, over the sodden prairie; but no answer
+presented itself. His thin, eagle face was puckered with perplexity. The
+sleepy eyes gleamed vengefully from between his half-closed eyelids as
+he gazed across the sunlit prairie. His aquiline nose, always bearing a
+resemblance to an eagle's beak, was rendered even more like that
+aristocratic proboscis by reason of the down-drawn tip, consequent upon
+the odd pursing of his tightly-compressed lips. For the moment &quot;Lord&quot;
+Bill was at a loss. And, oddly enough, he began to wonder if, after all,
+silence had been his best course.</p>
+
+<p>He was still struggling in the direst perplexity when he drew up at the
+veranda of the ranch. Dismounting, he hitched his picket rope to the
+tying-post and entered the sitting-room by the open French window. Tea
+was set upon the table and Jacky was seated before the stove.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Late, Bill, late! Guess that 'plug' of yours is a rapid beast, judging
+by the pace you came up the hill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For the moment Bunning-Ford's face had resumed its wonted air of lazy
+good-nature.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Glad you took the trouble to watch for me, Jacky,&quot; he retorted quickly,
+with an attempt at his usual lightness of manner. &quot;I appreciate the
+honor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing of the sort. I was looking for uncle. The mail brought a letter
+from Calford. Dawson, the cattle buyer of the Western Railway Company,
+wants to see him. The Home Government are buying largely. He is
+commissioned to purchase 30,000 head of prime beeves. Come along, tea's
+ready.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill seated himself at the table and Jacky poured out the tea. She was
+dressed for the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where is Dawson now?&quot; asked Bill.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Calford. Guess he'll wait right there for uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a look of relief passed across the man's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is Wednesday. At six o'clock the mail-cart goes back to town. Send
+some one down to the <i>saloon</i> at once, and John will be able to go in
+to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As Bill spoke his eyes encountered a direct and steady glance from the
+girl. There was much meaning in that mute exchange. For answer Jacky
+rose and rang a bell sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send a hand down to the settlement to find my uncle. Ask him to come up
+at once. There is an important letter awaiting him,&quot; she said, to the
+old servant who answered the summons.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, what's up?&quot; she went on, when the retainer had departed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lots. Look here, Jacky, we mustn't be long over tea. We must both be
+out of the house when your uncle returns. He may not want to go into
+town to-night. Anyway, I don't want to give him the chance of asking any
+questions until we have had a long talk. He's losing to Lablache again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! I don't want anything to eat. Whenever you are ready, Bill, I am.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford drank his tea and rose from the table. The girl followed
+his example.</p>
+
+<p>There was something very strong and resolute in the brisk,
+ready-for-emergency ways of this girl. There was nothing of the
+ultra-feminine dependence and weakness of her sex about her. And yet her
+hardiness detracted in no way from her womanly charm; rather was that
+complex abstract enhanced by her wonderful self-reliance. There are
+those who decry independence in women, but surely only such must come
+from those whose nature is largely composed of hectoring selfishness.
+There was a resolute set of the mouth as Jacky sent word to the stables
+to have her horse brought round. She asked no questions of her
+companion, as, waiting for compliance with her orders, she drew on her
+stout buckskin gauntlets. She understood this man well enough to be
+aware that his suggestion was based upon necessity. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill rarely
+interfered with anything or anybody, but when such an occasion arose his
+words carried a deal of weight with those who knew him.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later and they were both riding slowly down the avenue of
+pines leading from the house. The direction in which they were moving
+was away from the settlement, down towards where the great level flat of
+the muskeg began. At the end of the avenue they turned directly to the
+southeast, leaving the township behind them. The prairie was soft and
+springy. There was still a keen touch of winter in the fresh spring air.
+The afternoon sun was shining coldly athwart the direction of their
+route.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky led the way, and, as they drew clear of the bush, and the house
+and settlement were hidden from view behind them, she urged her horse
+into a good swinging lope. Thus they progressed in silence. The
+far-reaching deadly mire on their right, looking innocent enough in the
+shadow of the snow-clad peaks beyond, the ranch well behind them in the
+hollow of the Foss River Valley, whilst, on their left, the mighty
+prairie rolled away upwards to the higher level of the surrounding
+country.</p>
+
+<p>In this way they covered nearly a mile, then the girl drew up beside a
+small clump of weedy bush.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you ready for the plunge, Bill?&quot; she asked, as her companion drew
+up beside her. &quot;The path's not more than four feet wide. Does your
+'plug' shy any?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's all right. You lead right on. Where you can travel I've a notion
+I'm not likely to funk. But I don't see the path.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess you don't. Never did nature keep her secret better than in the
+setting out of this one road across her woeful man-trap. You can't see
+the path, but I guess it's an open book to me, and its pages ain't
+Hebrew either. Say, Bill, there's been many a good prairie man looking
+for this path, but&quot;&mdash;with a slight accent of exultation&mdash;&quot;they've never
+found it. Come on. Old Nigger knows it; many a time has he trodden its
+soft and shaking surface. Good old horse!&quot; and she patted the black neck
+of her charger as she turned his head towards the distant hills and
+urged him forward with a &quot;chirrup.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Far across the muskeg the distant peaks of the mountain range glistened
+in the afternoon sun like diamond-studded sugar loaves. So high were the
+clouds that every portion of the mighty summits was clearly outlined.
+The great ramparts of the prairie are a magnificent sight on a clear
+day. Flat and smooth as any billiard-table stretched this silent,
+mysterious muskeg, already green and fair to the eye, an alluring
+pasture to the unwary. An experienced eye might have judged it too
+green&mdash;too alluring. Could a more perfect trap be devised by evil human
+ingenuity than this? Think for one instant of a bottomless pit of liquid
+soil, absorbing in its peculiar density. Think of all the horrors of a
+quicksand, which, embracing, sucks down into its cruel bosom the
+despairing victim of its insatiable greed. Think of a thin, solid crust,
+spread like icing upon a cake and concealing the soft, spongy matter
+beneath, covering every portion of the cruel plain; a crust which yields
+a crop of luxurious, enticing grass of the most perfect emerald hue; a
+crust firm in itself and dry looking, and yet not strong enough to bear
+the weight of a good-sized terrier. And what imagination can possibly
+conceive a more cruel&mdash;more perfect trap for man or beast? Woe to the
+creature which trusts its weight upon that treacherous crust. For one
+fleeting instant it will sway beneath the tread, then, in the flash of a
+thought, it will break, and once the surface gives no human power can
+save the victim. Down, down into the depths must the poor wretch be
+plunged, with scarce time to offer a prayer to God for the poor soul
+which so swiftly passes to its doom. Such is the muskeg; and surely more
+terrible is it than is that horror of the navigator&mdash;the quicksands.</p>
+
+<p>The girl led the way without as much as a passing thought for the
+dangers which surrounded her. Truly had her companion said &quot;I don't see
+the path,&quot; for no path was to be seen. But Jacky had learned her lesson
+well&mdash;and learned it from one who read the prairie as the Bedouin reads
+the desert. The path was there and with a wondrous assurance she
+followed its course.</p>
+
+<p>The travelers moved silently along. No word was spoken; each was wrapped
+in thought. Now and again a stray prairie chicken would fly up from
+their path with a whirr, and speed across the mire, calling to its mate
+as it went. The drowsy chirrup of frogs went on unceasingly around, and
+already the ubiquitous mosquito was on the prowl for human gore.</p>
+
+<p>The upstanding horses now walked with down-drooped heads, with sniffing
+noses low towards the ground, ears cocked, and with alert, careful
+tread, as if fully alive to the danger of their perilous road. The
+silence of that ride teemed with a thrill of danger. Half an hour passed
+and then the girl gathered up her reins and urged her willing horse into
+a canter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come on, Bill, the path is more solid now, and wider. The worst part is
+on the far side,&quot; she called back over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Her companion followed her unquestioningly.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was already dipping towards the distant peaks and already a
+shadowy haze was rising upon the eastern prairie. The chill of winter
+grew keener as the sun slowly sank.</p>
+
+<p>Two-thirds of the journey were covered and Jacky, holding up a warning
+hand, drew up her horse. Her companion came to a stand beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The path divides in three here,&quot; said the girl, glancing keenly down at
+the fresh green grass. &quot;Two of the branches are blind and end abruptly
+further on. Guess we must avoid 'em,&quot; she went on shortly, &quot;unless we
+are anxious to punctuate our earthly career. This is the one we must
+take,&quot; turning her horse to the left path. &quot;Keep your eye peeled and
+stick to Nigger's footprints.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man did as he was bid, marvelling the while at the strange knowledge
+of his companion. He had no fear; he only wondered. The trim, graceful
+figure on the horse ahead of him occupied all his thoughts. He watched
+her as, with quiet assurance she guided her horse. He had known Jacky
+for years. He had watched her grow to womanhood, but although her
+up-bringing must of necessity have taught her an independence and
+courage given to few women, he had never dreamt of the strength of the
+sturdy nature she was now displaying. Again his thoughts went to the
+tales of the gossips of the settlement, and the strange figure of the
+daring cattle-thief loomed up over his mental horizon. He rode, and as
+he rode he wondered. The end Of this journey would be a fitting place
+for the explanations which must take place between them.</p>
+
+<p>At length the shaking path came to an end and the mire was crossed. A
+signal from the girl brought her companion to her side.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have crossed it,&quot; she said, glancing up at the sun, and indicating
+the muskeg with a backward jerk of her head. &quot;Now for the horse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What about your promise to tell me about Peter Retief?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess being the narrator you must let me take my time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled up into her companion's eagle face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The horse is a mile or so further up towards the foothills. Come
+along.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They galloped side by side over the moist, springy grass&mdash;moist with the
+recently-melted snow. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was content to wait her pleasure.
+Suddenly the man brought his horse up with a severe &quot;yank.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's up?&quot; The girl's beautiful eyes were fixed upon the ground with a
+peculiar instinct. Bill pointed to the ground on the side furthest from
+his companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky gazed at the spot indicated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The tracks of the horse,&quot; she said sharply.</p>
+
+<p>She was on the ground in an instant and inspecting the hoof-prints
+eagerly, with that careful study acquired by experience.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; said the other, as she turned back to her horse.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Recent.&quot; Then in an impressive tone which her companion failed to
+understand, &quot;That horse has been shod. The shoes are off&mdash;all except a
+tiny bit on his off fore. We must track it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They now separated and rode keeping the hoof-prints between them. The
+marks were quite fresh and so plain in the soft ground that they were
+able to ride at a good pace. The clear-cut indentations led away from
+the mire up the gently-sloping ground. Suddenly they struck upon a path
+that was little more than a cattle-track, and instantly became mingled
+with other hoof-marks, older and going both ways. Hitherto the girl had
+ridden with her eyes closely watching the tracks, but now she suddenly
+raised her sweet, weather-tanned face to her companion, and, with a
+light of the wildest excitement in her eyes, she pointed along the path
+and set her horse at a gallop.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come on! I know,&quot; she cried, &quot;right on into the hills.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill followed willingly enough, but he failed to understand his
+companion's excitement. After all they were merely bent upon &quot;roping&quot; a
+stray horse. The girl galloped on at breakneck speed; the heavy black
+ringlets of hair were swept like an outspread fan from under the broad
+brim of her Stetson hat, her buckskin bodice ballooning in the wind as
+rider and horse charged along, utterly indifferent to the nature of the
+country they were traveling&mdash;indifferent to everything except the mad
+pursuit of an unseen quarry. Now they were on the summit of some
+eminence whence they could see for miles the confusion of hills, like
+innumerable bee-hives set close together upon an endless plain; now
+down, tearing through a deep hollow, and racing towards another abrupt
+ascent. With every hill passed the country became less green and more
+and more rugged. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill struggled hard to keep the girl in view as
+she raced on&mdash;on through the labyrinth of seemingly endless hillocks.
+But at last he drew up on the summit of a high cone-like rise and
+realized that he had lost her.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he gazed around with that peculiar, all-observing keenness
+which is given to those whose lives are spent in countries where human
+habitation is sparse&mdash;where the work of man is lost in the immensity of
+Nature's effort. He could see no sign of the girl. And yet he knew she
+could not be far away. His instincts told him to search for her horse
+tracks. He was sure she had passed that way. While yet he was thinking,
+she suddenly reappeared over the brow of a further hill. She halted at
+the summit, and, seeing him, waved a summons. Her gesticulations were
+excited and he hastened to obey. Down into the intervening valley his
+horse plunged with headlong recklessness. At the bottom there was a
+hard, beaten track. Almost unconsciously he allowed his beast to adopt
+it. It wound round and upwards, at the base of the hill on which Jacky
+was waiting for him. He passed the bend, then, with a desperate,
+backward heave of the body, he &quot;yanked&quot; his horse short up, throwing the
+eager animal on to its haunches.</p>
+
+<p>He had pulled up on what, at first appeared to be the brink of a
+precipice, and what in reality was a declivity, down which only the slow
+and sure foot of a steer or broncho might safely tread. He sat aghast at
+his narrow escape. Then, turning at the sound of a voice behind him, he
+found that Jacky had come down from the hill above.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See, Bill,&quot; she cried, as she drew abreast of his hard-breathing horse,
+&quot;there he is! Down there, peacefully, grazing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her excitement was intense, and the hand with which she pointed shook
+like an aspen. Her agitation was incomprehensible to the man. He looked
+down. Hitherto he had seen little beyond the brink at which he had come
+to such a sudden stand. But now, as he gazed down, he beheld a deep
+dark-shadowed valley, far-reaching and sombre. From their present
+position its full extent was beyond the range of vision, but sufficient
+was to be seen to realize that here was one of those vast hiding-places
+only to be found in lands where Nature's fanciful mood has induced the
+mighty upheaval of the world's greatest mountain ranges. On the far side
+of the deep, sombre vale a towering craig rose wall-like, sheer up,
+overshadowing the soft, green pasture deep down at the bottom of the
+yawning gulch. Dense patches of dark, relentless pinewoods lined its
+base, and, over all, in spite of the broad daylight, a peculiar shadow,
+as of evening, added mystery to the haunting view.</p>
+
+<p>It was some seconds before the man was able to distinguish the tiny
+object which had roused the girl to such unaccountable excitement. When
+he did, however, he beheld a golden chestnut horse quietly grazing as it
+made its way leisurely towards the ribbon-like stream which flowed in
+the bosom of the mysterious valley. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's voice was quite
+emotionless when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, a chestnut!&quot; he said quietly. &quot;Well, our quest is vain. He is
+beyond our reach.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the girl looked at him in indignant surprise. Then her mood
+changed and she nearly laughed outright. She had forgotten that this man
+as yet knew nothing of what had all along been in her thoughts. As yet
+he knew nothing of the secret of this hollow. To her it meant a world of
+recollection&mdash;a world of stirring adventure and awful hazard. When first
+she had seen that horse, grazing within sight of her uncle's house, her
+interest had been aroused&mdash;suspicions had been sent teeming through her
+brain. Her thoughts had flown to the man whom she had once known, and
+who was now dead. She had believed his horse had died with him. And now
+the strange apparition had yielded up its secret. The beast had been
+traced to the old, familiar haunt, and what had been only suspicion had
+suddenly become a startling reality.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, I forgot,&quot; she replied, &quot;you don't understand. That is Golden
+Eagle. Can't you see, he has the fragments of his saddle still tied
+round his body. To think of it&mdash;and after two years.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her companion still seemed dense.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Golden Eagle?&quot; he repeated questioningly. &quot;Golden Eagle?&quot; The name
+seemed familiar but he failed to comprehend.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; the girl broke out impatiently. &quot;Golden Eagle&mdash;Peter
+Retief's horse. The grandest beast that ever stepped the prairie. See,
+he is keeping watch over his master's old
+hiding-place&mdash;faithful&mdash;faithful to the memory of the dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this is&mdash;is the haunt of Peter Retief,&quot; Bill exclaimed, his
+interest centering chiefly upon the yawning valley before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;follow me closely, and we'll get right along down. Say, Bill, we
+must round up that animal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For a fleeting space the man looked dubious, then, with lips pursed, and
+a quiet look of resolution in his sleepy eyes, he followed in his
+companion's wake. The grandeur&mdash;the solitude&mdash;the mystery and
+associations, conveyed by the girl's words, of the place were upon him.
+These things had set him thinking.</p>
+
+<p>The tortuous course of that perilous descent occupied their full
+attention, but, at length, they reached the valley in safety. Now,
+indeed, was a wonderful scene disclosed. Far as the eye could reach the
+great hollow extended. Deep and narrow; deep in the heart of the hills
+which towered upon either side to heights, for the most part,
+inaccessible, precipitous. It was a wondrous gulch, hidden and
+unsuspected in the foothills, and protected by those amazing wilds, in
+which the ignorant or unwary must infallibly be lost. It was a perfect
+pasture, a perfect hiding-place, watered by a broad running stream;
+sheltered from all cold and storm. No wonder then that the celebrated
+outlaw, Peter Retief, had chosen it for his haunt and the harborage of
+his ill-gotten stock.</p>
+
+<p>With characteristic method the two set about &quot;roping&quot; the magnificent
+crested horse they had come to capture. They soon found that he was
+wild&mdash;timid as a hare. Their task looked as though it would be one of
+some difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>At first Golden Eagle raced recklessly from point to point. And so long
+as this lasted his would-be captors could do little but endeavor to
+&quot;head&quot; him from one to the other, in the hope of getting him within
+range of the rope. Then he seemed suddenly to change his mind, and, with
+a quick double, gallop towards the side of the great chasm. A cry of
+delight escaped the girl as she saw this. The horse was making for the
+mouth of a small cavern which had been boarded over, and, judging by the
+door and window in the woodwork, had evidently been used as a dwelling
+or a stable. It was the same instinct which led him to this place that
+had caused the horse to remain for two years the solitary tenant of the
+valley. The girl understood, and drew her companion's attention. The
+capture at once became easy. Keeping clear of the cave they cautiously
+herded their quarry towards it. Golden Eagle was docile enough until he
+reached the, to him, familiar door. Then, when he found that his
+pursuers still continued to press in upon him, he took alarm, and,
+throwing up his head, with a wild, defiant snort he made a bolt for the
+open.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly two lariats whirled through the air towards the crested neck.
+One missed its mark, but the other fell, true as a gun-shot over the
+small, thoroughbred head. It was Jacky's rope which had found its mark.
+A hitch round the horn of her saddle, and her horse threw himself back
+with her forefeet braced, and faced the captive. Then the rope tightened
+with a jerk which taxed its rawhide strands to their utmost. Instantly
+Golden Eagle, after two years' freedom, stood still; he knew that once
+more he must return to captivity.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII" />CHAPTER VIII - TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW</h2>
+
+
+<p>Jacky held her treasure fast. The choking grip of the running noose
+quieted Golden Eagle into perfect docility. Bunning-Ford was off his
+horse in a moment. Approaching the primitive dwelling he forced open the
+crazy door. It was a patchwork affair and swung back on a pair of hinges
+which lamented loudly as the accumulation of rust were disturbed. The
+interior was essentially suggestive of the half-breed, and his guess at
+its purpose had been a shrewd one. Part storehouse for forage, part
+bedroom, and part stable, it presented a squalid appearance. The portion
+devoted to stable-room was far in the back; the curious apparatus which
+constituted the bed was placed under the window.</p>
+
+<p>The man propped the door open, and then went to relieve the girl from
+the strain of holding her captive. Seizing the lariat he gripped it
+tightly and proceeded to pass slowly, hand over hand, towards the
+beautiful, wild-eyed chestnut. Golden Eagle seemed to understand, for,
+presently, the tension of the rope relaxed. For a moment the animal
+looked fearfully around and snorted, then, as &quot;Lord&quot; Bill determinedly
+attempted to lead him, he threw himself backward. His rebellion lasted
+but for an instant, for, presently, drooping his proud head as though in
+token of submission, he followed his captor quietly into the stable
+which had always been his.</p>
+
+<p>The girl dismounted, and, shortly after, &quot;Lord&quot; Bill rejoined her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; she asked, her questioning eyes turned in the direction of the
+cave.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's snug enough,&quot; Bill replied quietly, glancing at his watch. He
+looked up at the chilly sky, then he seated himself on the edge of a
+boulder which reposed beside the entrance to the stable. &quot;We've just got
+two hours and a half before dark,&quot; he added slowly. &quot;That means an hour
+in which to talk.&quot; Then he quietly prepared to roll a cigarette. &quot;Now,
+Jacky, let's have your yarn first; after that you shall hear mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He leisurely proceeded to pick over the tobacco before rolling it in the
+paper. He was usually particular about his smoke. He centered his
+attention upon the matter now, purposely, so as to give his companion a
+chance to tell her story freely. He anticipated that what she had to
+tell would affect her nearly. But his surmise of the direction in which
+she would be affected proved totally incorrect. Her first words told him
+this.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated only for the fraction of a second, then she plunged into
+her story with a directness which was always hers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is Bad Man's Hollow&mdash;he&mdash;he was my half-brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So the stories of the gossips were not true. Bill gave a comprehensive
+nod, but offered no comment. Her statement appeared to him to need none.
+It explained itself; she was speaking of Peter Retief.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mother was a widow when she married father&mdash;widow with one son. Mother
+was a half-breed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>An impressive silence ensued. For a moment a black shadow swept across
+the valley. It was a dense flight of geese winging their way back to the
+north, as the warm sun melted the snow and furnished them with
+well-watered feeding-grounds. The frogs were chirruping loudly down at
+the edge of the stream which trickled its way ever southwards. She went
+on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mother and Peter settled at Foss River at different times. They never
+hit it off. No one knew that there was any relationship between them up
+at the camp. Mother lived in her own shack. Peter located himself
+elsewhere. Guess it's only five years since I learned these things.
+Peter was fifteen years older than I. I take it they made him 'bad' from
+the start. Poor Peter!&mdash;still, he was my half-brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She conveyed a world of explanation in her last sentence. There was a
+tender, far-away look in her great, sorrowful eyes as she told her jerky
+story. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill allowed himself a side-long glance in her direction,
+then he turned his eyes towards the south end of the valley and
+something very like a sigh escaped him. She had struck a sympathetic
+chord in his heart. He longed to comfort her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's no use in reckoning up Peter's acts. You know 'em as well as I
+do, Bill. He was slick&mdash;was Peter,&quot; she went on, with an inflection of
+satisfaction. She was returning to a lighter manner as she contemplated
+the cattle-thief's successes. &quot;Cattle, mail-trains, mail-carts&mdash;nothing
+came amiss to him. In his own line Peter was a Jo-dandy.&quot; Her face
+flushed as she proceeded. The half-breed blood in her was stirred in all
+its passionate strength. &quot;But he'd never have slipped the coyote
+sheriffs or the slick red-coats so long as he did without my help. Say,
+Bill,&quot; leaning forward eagerly and peering into his face with her
+beautiful glowing eyes, &quot;for three years I just&mdash;just lived! Poor Peter!
+Guess I'm reckoned kind of handy 'round a bunch of steers. There aren't
+many who can hustle me. You know that. All the boys on the round-up know
+that. And why? Because I learnt the business from Peter&mdash;and Peter
+taught me to shoot quick and straight. Those three years taught me a
+deal, and I take it those things didn't happen for nothing,&quot; with a
+moody introspective gaze. &quot;Those years taught me how to look after
+myself&mdash;and my uncle. Say, Bill, what I'm telling you may sicken you
+some. I can't help that. Peter was my brother and blood's thicker than
+water. I wasn't going to let him be hunted down by a lot of bloodthirsty
+coyotes who were no better than he. I wasn't going to let my mother's
+flesh feed the crows from the end of a lariat. I helped Peter to steer
+clear of the law&mdash;lynch at that&mdash;and if he fell at last, a victim to
+the sucking muck of the muskeg, it was God's judgment and not
+man's&mdash;that's good enough for me. I'd do it all again, I guess, if&mdash;if
+Peter were alive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter had some shooting on the account against him,&quot; said Bill, without
+raising his eyes from the contemplation of his cigarette. The girl
+smiled. The smile hovered for a moment round her mouth and eyes, and
+then passed, leaving her sweet, dark face bathed in the shadow of
+regret. She understood the drift of his remark but in no way resented
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, Bill, I steered clear of that. I'd have shot to save Peter, but it
+never came to that. Whatever shooting Peter did was done on his&mdash;lonely.
+I jibbed at a frolic that meant&mdash;shooting. Peter never let me dirty my
+hands to that extent. Guess I just helped him and kept him posted. If
+I'd had law, they'd have called me accessory after the fact.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill pondered. His lazy eyes were half-closed. He looked
+indifferent but his thoughts were flowing fast. This girl's story had
+given a fillup to a wild plan which had almost unconsciously found place
+in his active brain. Now he raised his eyes to her face and was
+astonished at the setness of its expression. She reminded him of those
+women in history whose deeds had, at various periods, shaken the
+foundations of empires. There was a deep, smouldering fire in her eyes,
+for which only the native blood in her veins could account. Her
+beautiful face was clouded beneath a somber shadow which is so often
+accredited as a presage of tragedy. Surely her expression was one of a
+great, passionate nature, of a soul capable of a wondrous love, or a
+wondrous&mdash;hate. She had seated herself upon the ground with the careless
+abandon of one used to such a resting-place. Her trim riding-boots were
+displayed from beneath the hem of her coarse dungaree habit. Her Stetson
+hat was pushed back on her head, leaving the broad low forehead exposed.
+Her black waving hair streamed about her face, a perfect framing for
+the Van Dyke coloring of her skin. She was very beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>The man shifted his position.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me,&quot; he went on, gazing over towards where a flock of wild ducks
+had suddenly settled upon a reedy swamp, and were noisily revelling in
+the water, &quot;did your uncle know anything about this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not a soul on God's earth knew. Did you ever suspect anything?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not a thing. I was as well posted on the subject of Peter as any one.
+Sometimes I thought it curious that old John's stock and my own were
+never interfered with. But I had no suspicion of the truth. Peter's
+relationship to your mother&mdash;did the Breeds in the settlement know
+anything of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;I alone knew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked curiously into her companion's face. The tone of his
+exclamation startled her. She wondered towards what end his questions
+were leading. His face was inscrutable; she gained no inspiration from
+it. There was a short pause. She wondered anxiously how her story had
+affected him in regard to herself. After all, she was only a woman&mdash;a
+woman of strong affections and deep feelings. Her hardihood, her mannish
+self-reliance, were but outer coverings, the result of the surroundings
+of her daily life. She feared lest he should turn from her in utter
+loathing.</p>
+
+<p>The Hon. Bunning-Ford had no such thoughts, however. Twenty-four hours
+ago her story might have startled him. But now it was different. His was
+as wild and reckless a nature as her own. Law and order were matters
+which he regarded in the light of personal inclinations. He had seen too
+much of the early life on the prairie to be horrified by the part this
+courageous girl had taken in her blood-relative's interests. Under other
+circumstances &quot;Lord&quot; Bill might well have developed into a &quot;bad man&quot;
+himself. As it was, his sympathies were always with those whose daring
+led them into ways of danger and risk of personal safety.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How far does this valley extend?&quot; he asked abruptly, stepping over as
+though to obtain a view of the southern extremity of the mysterious
+hollow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess we reckoned it 300 miles. Dead straight into the heart of the
+mountains, then out again sharply into the foot-hills thirty miles south
+of the border. It comes to an end in Montana.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Peter disposed of his stock that way&mdash;all by himself?&quot; he asked,
+returning to his seat upon the boulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All by himself,&quot; the girl repeated, again wondering at the drift of his
+questions. &quot;My help only extended as far as this place. Peter used to
+fatten his stock right here and then run them down into Montana. Down
+there no one knew where he came from, and so wonderfully is this place
+hidden that he was never traced. There is only one approach to it, and
+that's across the keg. In winter that can be crossed anywhere, but no
+sane persons would trust themselves in the foothills at that time of
+year. For the rest it can only be crossed by the secret path. This
+valley is a perfectly-hidden natural road for illicit traffic.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wonderful.&quot; The man permitted a smile to spread over his thin, eagle
+face. &quot;Peter's supposed to have made a pile of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I guess Peter sunk a pile of dollars. He hid his bills right here
+in the valley,&quot; Jacky replied, smiling back into the indolent face
+before her. Then her face became serious again. &quot;The secret of its
+hiding-place died with him&mdash;it's buried deep down in the reeking keg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you're sure he died in the 'reeking keg'?&quot; There was a sharp
+intonation in the question. The matter seemed to be of importance in the
+story.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky half started at the eagerness with which the question was put. She
+paused for an instant before replying.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe he died there,&quot; she said at length, like one weighing her
+words well, &quot;but it was never clearly proved. Most people think that he
+simply cleared out of the country. I picked up his hat close beside the
+path, and the crust of the keg had been broken. Yes, I believe he died
+in the muskeg. Had he lived I should have known.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how comes it that Golden Eagle is still alive? Surely Peter would
+never have crossed the keg on foot&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked perplexed for a moment. But her conviction was plainly
+evident.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;he wouldn't have walked. Peter drank some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Once I saved him from taking the wrong track at the point where the
+path forks. He'd been drinking then. Yes,&quot; with a quiet assurance, &quot;I
+think he died in the keg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her companion seemed to have come to the end of his cross-examination.
+He suddenly rose from his seat. The chattering of the ducks in the
+distance caused him to turn his head. Then he turned again to the girl
+before him. The indolence had gone from his eyes. His face was set, and
+the firm pursing of his lips spoke of a determination arrived at. He
+gazed down at the recumbent figure upon the ground. There was something
+in his gaze which made the girl lower her eyes and look far out down the
+valley.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This brother of yours&mdash;he was tall and thin?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Am I right in my recollection of him when I say that he was possessed
+of a dark, dark face, lantern jaws, thin&mdash;and high, prominent
+cheek-bones?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She faced him inquiringly as she answered his eager questions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He quickly turned again in the direction of the noisy water-fowl. Their
+rollicking gambols sounded joyously on the brooding atmosphere of the
+place. The wintry chill in the air was fast ousting the balmy breath of
+spring. It was a warning of the lateness of the hour.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now listen to me,&quot; he went on presently, turning again from the
+contemplation of his weird surroundings. &quot;I lost all that was left to me
+from the wreck of my little ranch this afternoon&mdash;no, not to Lablache,&quot;
+as the girl was about to pronounce the hated name, &quot;but,&quot; with a wintry
+smile, &quot;to another friend of yours, Pedro Mancha. I also discovered,
+this afternoon, the source of Lablache's phenomenal&mdash;luck. He has
+systematically robbed both your uncle and myself&mdash;&quot; He broke off with a
+bitter laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl had sprung to her feet in her agitation. And a rage
+indescribable flamed into her face. The fury there expressed appalled
+him, and he stood for a moment waiting for it to abate. What terrible
+depths had he delved into? The hidden fires of a passionate nature are
+more easily kept under than checked in their blasting career when once
+the restraining will power is removed. For an instant it seemed that she
+must choke. Then she hurled her feelings into one brief, hissing
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;I hate him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And the man realized that he must continue his story.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we lost our money not fairly, but by&mdash;cheating. I am ruined, and
+your uncle&mdash;&quot; Bill shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My uncle&mdash;God help him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not know the full extent of his losses, Jacky&mdash;except that they
+have probably trebled mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I know to what extent the hound has robbed him,&quot; Jacky answered in
+a tone of such bitter hatred as to cause her companion to glance
+uneasily at the passionate young face before him. &quot;I know, only too
+well. And right thoroughly has Lablache done his work. Say, Bill, do you
+know that that skunk holds mortgages on our ranch for two hundred
+thousand dollars? And every bill of it is for poker. For twenty years,
+right through, he has steadily sucked the old man's blood. Slick? Say a
+six-year-old steer don't know more about a branding-iron than does
+Verner Lablache about his business. For every dollar uncle's lost he's
+made him sign a mortgage. Every bit of paper has the old man had to
+redeem in that way. What he's done lately&mdash;I mean uncle&mdash;I can't say.
+But Lablache held those mortgages nearly a year ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whew&mdash;&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill whistled under his breath. &quot;Gee-whittaker. It's
+worse than I thought. 'Poker' John's losses during the last winter, to
+my knowledge, must have amounted to nearly six figures&mdash;the devil!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ruin, ruin, ruin!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl for a moment allowed womanly feeling to overcome her, for, as
+her companion added his last item to the vast sum which she had quoted,
+she saw, in all its horrible nakedness, the truth of her uncle's
+position. Then she suddenly forced back the tears which had struggled
+into her eyes, and, with indomitable courage, faced the catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But can't we fight him&mdash;can't we give him&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Law? I'm afraid not,&quot; Bill interrupted. &quot;Once a mortgage is signed the
+debt is no longer a gambling debt. Law is of no use to us, especially
+here on the prairie. There is only one law which can save us. Lablache
+must disgorge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes! For every dollar he has stolen let him pay ten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The passionate fire in her eyes burned more steadily now. It was the
+fire which is unquenchable&mdash;the fire of a lasting hate, vengeful,
+terrible. Then her tone dropped to a contemplative soliloquy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how?&quot; she murmured, looking away towards the stream in the heart of
+the valley, as though in search of inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford smiled as he heard the half-whispered question. But his
+smile was not pleasant to look upon. All the latent recklessness which
+might have made of him a good soldier or a great scoundrel was roused in
+him. He was passing the boundary which divides the old Adam, which is in
+every man, from the veneer of early training. He was
+mutely&mdash;unconsciously&mdash;calling to his aid the savage instincts which the
+best of men are not without. His face expressed something of what was
+passing within his active brain, and the girl before him, as she turned
+and watched the working features, usually so placid&mdash;indifferent, knew
+that she was to see a side of his character always suspected by her but
+never before made apparent. His thoughts at last found vent in words of
+almost painful intensity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How?&quot; he said, repeating the question as though it had been addressed
+to himself. &quot;He shall pay&mdash;pay! Everlastingly pay! So long as I have
+life&mdash;and liberty, he shall pay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then as if anticipating a request for explanation he told her the means
+by which Lablache had consistently cheated. The girl listened,
+speechless with amazement. She hung upon his every word. At the
+conclusion of his story she put an abrupt question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you gave no sign? He doesn't suspect that you know?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He suspects nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good. You are real smart, Bill. Yes, shooting's no good. This is no
+case for shooting. What do you propose? I see you mean business.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man was still smiling but his smile had suddenly changed to one of
+kindly humor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;First of all Jacky,&quot; he said, taking a step towards her, &quot;I can do
+nothing without your help. I propose that you share this task with me.
+No, no, I don't mean in that way,&quot; as she commenced to assure him of her
+assistance. &quot;What I mean is that&mdash;that I love you, dear. I want you to
+give me the right to protect&mdash;your uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He finished up with his hands stretched out towards her. Golden Eagle
+stirred in his stable, and the two heard him whinny as if in approval.
+Then as the girl made no answer Bill went on: &quot;Jacky, I am a ruined man.
+I have nothing, but I love you better than life itself. We now have a
+common purpose in life. Let us work together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His voice sank to a tender whisper. He loved this motherless girl who
+was fighting the battle of life single-handed against overwhelming
+odds, with all the strength of his nature. He had loved her ever since
+she had reached woman's estate. In asking for a return of his affections
+now he fully realized the cruelty of his course. He knew that the
+future&mdash;his future&mdash;was to be given up to the pursuit of a terrible
+revenge. And he knew that, in linking herself with him, she would
+perforce be dragged into whatever wrong-doing his contemplated revenge
+might lead him. And yet he dared not pause. It all seemed so plain&mdash;so
+natural&mdash;that they should journey through the crooked, paths of the
+future together. Was she not equally determined upon a terrible revenge?</p>
+
+<p>He waited in patience for his answer. Suddenly she looked up into his
+face and gently placed her hands in his. Her answer came with simple
+directness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you really, Bill? I am glad&mdash;yes, glad right through. I love you,
+too. Say, you're sure you don't think badly of me because&mdash;because I'm
+Peter's sister?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a smiling, half-tearful look in her eyes&mdash;those expressive
+eyes which, but a moment before, had burnt with a vengeful fire&mdash;as she
+asked the question. After all her nature was wondrously simple.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why should I, dear?&quot; he replied, bending and kissing the gauntleted
+hands which rested so lovingly in his. &quot;My life has scarcely been a
+Garden of Eden before the Fall. And I don't suppose my future, even
+should I escape the laws of man, is likely to be most creditable. Your
+past is your own&mdash;I have no right nor wish to criticise. Henceforth we
+are united in a common cause. Our hand is turned against one whose power
+in this part of the country is almost absolute. When we have wrested his
+property from him, to the uttermost farthing, we will cry quits&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And on the day that sees Lablache's downfall, Bill, I will become your
+wife.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. Then Bill drew her towards him and they sealed the
+compact with one long embrace. They were roused to the matters of the
+moment by another whinny from Golden Eagle, who was chafing at his
+forced imprisonment.</p>
+
+<p>The two stood back from one another, hand in hand, and smiled as they
+listened to the tuneful plaint. Then the man unfolded a wonderful plan
+to this girl whom he loved. Her willing ears drank in the details like
+one whose heart is set with a great purpose. They also talked of their
+love in their own practical way. There was little display of sentiment.
+They understood without that. Their future was not alluring, unless
+something of the man's strange plan appealed to the wild nature of the
+prairie which, by association, has somehow become affiliated with
+theirs. In that quiet, evening-lit valley these two people arranged to
+set aside the laws of man and deal out justice as they understood it. An
+eye for an eye&mdash;a tooth for a tooth; fortune favoring, a cent, per cent,
+interest in each case. The laws of the prairie, in those days always
+uncertain, were more often governed by human passions than the calm
+equity of unbiased jurymen. And who shall say that their idea of justice
+was wrong? Two &quot;wrongs,&quot; it has been said, do not make one &quot;right.&quot; But
+surely it is not a human policy when smote upon one cheek to turn the
+other for a similar chastisement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then we leave Golden Eagle where he is,&quot; said Jacky, as she remounted
+her horse and they prepared to return home.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. I will see to him,&quot; Bill replied, urging his horse into a canter
+towards the winding ascent which was to take them home.</p>
+
+<p>The ducks frolicking in their watery playground chattered and flapped
+their heavy wings. The frogs in their reedy beds croaked and chirruped
+without ceasing. And who shall say how much they had heard, or had seen,
+or knew of that compact sealed in Bad Man's Hollow?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX" />CHAPTER IX - LABLACHE'S &quot;COUP&quot;</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lablache was seated in a comfortable basket chair in his little back
+office. He preferred a basket chair&mdash;he knew its value. He had tried
+other chairs of a less yielding nature, but they were useless to support
+his weight; he had broken too many, and they were expensive&mdash;there is
+nothing more durable than a strong basket chair. Lablache appreciated
+strength combined with durability, especially when the initial outlay
+was reduced to a minimum.</p>
+
+<p>His slippered feet were posted on the lower part of the self-feeding
+stove and he gazed down, deep in thought, at the lurid glow of the fire
+shining through the mica sides of the firebox.</p>
+
+<p>A clock was ticking away with that peculiar, vibrating aggressiveness
+which characterizes the cheap American &quot;alarm.&quot; The bare wood of the
+desk aggravated the sound, and, in the stillness of the little room, the
+noise pounded exasperatingly on the ear-drums. From time to time he
+turned his great head, and his lashless eyes peered over at the paper
+dial of the clock. Once or twice he stirred with a suggestion of
+impatience. At times his heavy breathing became louder and shorter, and
+he seemed about to give expression to some irritable thought.</p>
+
+<p>At last his bulk heaved and he removed his feet from the stove. Then he
+slowly raised himself from the depths of the yielding chair. His
+slippered feet shuffled over the floor as he moved towards the window.
+The blind was down, but he drew it aside and wiped the steam from the
+glass pane with his soft, fat hand. The night was black&mdash;he could see
+nothing of the outside world. It was nearly an hour since he had left
+the saloon where he had been playing poker with John Allandale. He
+appeared to be waiting for some one, and he wanted to go to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Once more he returned to his complaining chair and lowered himself into
+it. The minutes slipped by. Lablache did not want to smoke; he felt that
+he must do something to soothe his impatience, so he chewed at the
+quicks of his finger-nails.</p>
+
+<p>Presently there came a tap at the window. The money-lender ponderously
+rose, and, cautiously opening the door, admitted the dark, unkempt form
+of Pedro Mancha. There was no greeting; neither spoke until Lablache had
+again secured the door. Then the money-lender turned his fishy eyes and
+mask-like face to the newcomer. He did not suggest that his visitor
+should sit down. He merely looked with his cold, cruel eyes, and spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&mdash;been drinking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The latter part of his remark was an assertion. He knew the Mexican
+well. The fellow had an expressive countenance, unlike most of his race,
+and the least sign of drink was painfully apparent upon it. The man was
+not drunk but his wild eyes testified to his recent libations.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you've hit it right thar,&quot; he retorted indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>It was noticeable that this man had adopted the high-pitched, keen tone
+and pronounced accent of the typical &quot;South-Westerner.&quot; In truth he was
+a border Mexican; a type of man closely allied to the &quot;greaser.&quot; He was
+a perfect scoundrel, who had doubtless departed from his native land for
+the benefit of that fair but swarming hornet's nest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's a pity when you have business on hand you can't leave that 'stuff'
+alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache made no effort to conceal his contempt. He even allowed his
+mask-like face to emphasize his words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're almighty pertickler, mister. You ask for dirty work to be done,
+an' when that dirty work's done, gorl-darn-it you croak like a
+flannel-mouthed temperance lecturer. Guess I came hyar to talk straight
+biz. Jest leave the temperance track, an' hit the main trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pedro's face was not pretty to look upon. The ring of white round the
+pupils of his eyes gave an impression of insanity or animal ferocity.
+The latter was his chief characteristic. His face was thin and scored
+with scars, mainly long and narrow. These, in a measure, testified to
+his past. His mouth, half hidden beneath a straggling mustache, was his
+worst feature. One can only liken it to a blubber-lipped gash, lined
+inside with two rows of yellow fangs, all in a more or less bad state of
+decay.</p>
+
+<p>The two men eyed one another steadily for a moment. Lablache could in no
+way terrorize this desperado. Like all his kind this man was ready to
+sell his services to any master, provided the forthcoming price of such
+services was sufficiently exorbitant. He was equally ready to play his
+employer up should any one else offer a higher price. But Lablache, when
+dealing with such men, took no chances. He rarely employed this sort of
+man, preferring to do his own dirty work, but when he did, he knew it
+was policy to be liberal. Pedro served him well as a rule, consequently
+the Mexican was enabled to ruffle it with the best in the settlement,
+whilst people wondered where he got his money from. Somehow they never
+thought of Lablache being the source of this man's means; the
+money-lender was not fond of parting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are right, I am particular. When I pay for work to be done I don't
+want gassing over a bar. I know what you are when the whisky is in you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache stood with his great back to the fire watching his man from
+beneath his heavy lids. Bad as he was himself the presence of this man
+filled him with loathing. Possibly deep down, somewhere in that organ he
+was pleased to consider his heart, he had a faint glimmer of respect for
+an honest man. The Mexican laughed harshly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess all you know of me, mister, wouldn't make a pile o' literature.
+But say, what's the game to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was gnawing his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How much did you take from the Honorable?&quot; he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You told me to lift his boodle. Time was short&mdash;he wouldn't play for
+long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm aware of that. How much?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's tone was abrupt and peremptory. Mancha was trying to estimate
+what he should be paid for his work.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar, I guess we ain't struck no deal yet. What do you propose to
+pay me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Mexican was sharp but he was no match for his employer. He fancied
+he saw a good deal over this night's work.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You played on paper, I know,&quot; said the money-lender, quietly. He was
+quite unmoved by the other's display of cunning. It pleased him rather
+than otherwise. He knew he held all the cards in his hands&mdash;he generally
+did in dealing with men of this stamp. &quot;To you, the amounts he lost are
+not worth the paper they are written on. You could never realize them.
+He couldn't meet 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache leisurely took a pinch of snuff from his snuff-box. He coughed
+and sneezed voluminously. His indifferent coolness, his air of
+patronage, aggravated the Mexican while it alarmed him. The deal he
+anticipated began to assume lesser proportions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which means, I take it, you've a notion you'd like the feel of those
+same papers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mancha had come to drive a bargain. He was aware that the I.O.U.'s he
+held would take some time to realize on, in the proper quarter, but, at
+the same time, he was quite aware of the fact that Bunning-Ford would
+ultimately meet them.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged his shoulders with apparent indifference&mdash;he meant to
+have them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you want for the debts? I am prepared to buy&mdash;at a reasonable
+figure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Mexican propped himself comfortably upon the corner of the desk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, guess we're talkin' biz, now. His 'lordship' is due to ante up the
+trifle of seven thousand dollars&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The fellow was rummaging in an inside pocket for the slips of paper. His
+eyes never left his companion's face. The amount startled Lablache, but
+he did not move a muscle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You did your work well, Pedro,&quot; he said, allowing himself, for the
+first time in this conversation, to recognize that the Mexican had a
+name. He warmed towards a man who was capable of doing another down for
+such a sum in such a short space of time. &quot;I'll treat you well. Two
+thousand spot cash, and you hand over the I.O.U.'s. What say? Is it a
+go?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Be damned to you. Two thousand for a certain seven? Not me. Say, what
+d'ye do with the skin when you eat a bananny? Sole your boots with it?
+Gee-whiz! You do fling your bills around.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Mexican laughed derisively as he jammed the papers back into his
+pocket. But he knew that he would have to sell at the other's price.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache moved heavily towards his desk. Selecting a book he opened it
+at a certain page.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You can keep them if you like. But you may as well understand your
+position. What's Bunning-Ford worth? What's his ranch worth?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The other suggested a figure much below the real value.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's worth more than that. Fifty thousand if it's worth a cent,&quot;
+Lablache said expansively. &quot;I don't want to do you, my friend, but as
+you said we're talking business now. Here is his account with me, you
+see,&quot; pointing to the entries. &quot;I hold thirty-five thousand on first
+mortgage and twenty thousand on bill of sale. In all fifty-five
+thousand, and his interest twelve months in arrears. Now, you refuse to
+part with those papers at my price, and I'll sell him up. You will then
+get not one cent of your money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender permitted himself to smile a grim, cold smile. He had
+been careful to make no mention of Bunning-Ford's further assets. He had
+quite forgotten to speak of a certain band of cattle which he knew his
+intended victim to possess. It was a well-known thing that Lablache knew
+more of the financial affairs of the people of the settlement than any
+one else; doubtless the Mexican thought only of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's ranch.
+Mancha shifted his position uneasily. But there was a cunning look on
+his face as he retorted swiftly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're a'mighty hasty to lay your hands on his reckoning. How's it that
+you're ready to part two thou' for 'em?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence as the two men eyed each other. It seemed
+as if each were endeavoring to fathom the other's thoughts. Then the
+money-lender spoke, and his voice conveyed a concentration of hate that
+bit upon the air with an incisiveness which startled his companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I intend to crush him as I would a rattlesnake. Because I wish
+to ruin him so that he will be left in my debt. So that I can hound him
+from this place by holding that debt over his head. It is worth two
+thousand to me to possess that power. Now, will you part?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This explanation appealed to the worst side of the Mexican's nature.
+This hatred was after his own heart. Lablache was aware that such would
+be the case. That is why he made it. He was accustomed to play upon the
+feelings of people with whom he dealt&mdash;as well as their pocket. Pedro
+Mancha grinned complacently. He thought he understood his employer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hand over the bills. Guess I'll part. The price is slim, but it's not a
+bad deal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache oozed over to the safe. He opened it, keeping one heavy eye
+upon his companion. He took no chances&mdash;he trusted no one, especially
+Pedro Mancha. Presently he returned with a roll of notes. It contained
+the exact amount. The Mexican watched him hungrily as he counted out the
+green-backed bills. His lips moistened beneath his mustache&mdash;his eyes
+looked wilder than ever. Lablache understood his customer thoroughly. A
+loaded revolver was in his own coat pocket. It is probable that the
+brown-faced desperado knew this.</p>
+
+<p>At last the money-lender held out the money. He held out both hands, one
+to give and the other to receive. Pedro passed him the I.O.U.'s and took
+the bills. One swift glance assured Lablache that the coveted papers
+were all there. Then he pointed to the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our transaction is over. Go!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He had had enough of his companion. He had no hesitation in thus
+peremptorily dismissing him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're in a pesky hurry to get rid of me. See hyar, pard, you'd best be
+civil. Your dealin's ain't a sight cleaner than mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm waiting.&quot; Lablache's tone was coldly commanding. His lashless eyes
+gazed steadily into the other's face. Something the Mexican saw in them
+impelled him towards the door. He moved backwards, keeping his face
+turned towards the money-lender. At this moment Lablache was at his
+best. His was a dominating personality. There was no cowardice in his
+nature&mdash;at least no physical cowardice. Doubtless, had it come to a
+struggle where agility was required, he would have fallen an easy prey
+to his lithe companion; but with him, somehow, it never did come to a
+struggle. He had a way with him that chilled any such thought that a
+would-be assailant might have. Will and unflinching courage are splendid
+assets. And, amongst others, this man possessed both.</p>
+
+<p>Mancha slunk back to the door, and, fumbling at the lock, opened it and
+passed out. Lablache instantly whipped out a revolver, and, stepping
+heavily on one side, advanced to the door, paused and listened. He was
+well under cover. The door was open. He was behind it. He knew better
+than to expose himself in the light for Mancha to make a target of him
+from without. Then he kicked the door to. Making a complete circuit of
+the walls of the office he came to the opposite side of the door, where
+he swiftly locked and bolted it. Then he drew an iron shutter across the
+light panelling and secured it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good,&quot; he muttered, as, sucking in a heavy breath, he returned to the
+stove and turned his back to it. &quot;It's as well to understand Mexican
+nature.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then he lounged into his basket chair and rubbed his fleshy hands
+reflectively. There was a triumphant look upon his repulsive features.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite right, friend Pedro, it's not a bad deal,&quot; he said to himself,
+blinking at the red light of the fire. &quot;Not half bad. Seven thousand
+dollars for two thousand dollars, and every cent of it realizable.&quot; He
+shook with inward mirth. &quot;The Hon. William Bunning-Ford will now have to
+disgorge every stick of his estate. Good, good!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then he relapsed into deep thought. Presently he roused himself from his
+reverie and prepared for bed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I'll give him a chance. Yes, I'll give him a chance,&quot; he muttered,
+as, after undergoing the simple operation of removing his coat, he
+stretched himself upon his bed and drew the blankets about him. &quot;If
+he'll consent to renounce any claim, fancied or otherwise, he may have
+to Joaquina Allandale's regard I'll refrain from selling him up. Yes,
+Verner Lablache will forego his money&mdash;for a time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The great bed shook as the monumental money-lender suppressed a chuckle.
+Then he turned over, and his stertorous inhalations soon suggested that
+the great man slept.</p>
+
+<p>Shylock, the Jew, determined on having his pound of flesh. But a woman
+outwitted him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X" />CHAPTER X - &quot;AUNT&quot; MARGARET REFLECTS</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was almost dark when Jacky returned to the ranch. She had left &quot;Lord&quot;
+Bill at the brink of the great keg, whence he had returned to his own
+place. Her first thought, on entering the house, was for the letter
+which she had left for her uncle. It was gone. She glanced round the
+room uncertainly. Then she stood gazing into the stove, while she idly
+drummed with her gauntleted fingers upon the back of a chair. She had as
+yet removed neither her Stetson hat nor her gauntlets.</p>
+
+<p>Her strong, dark face was unusually varying in its expression. Possibly
+her thoughts were thus indexed. Now, as she stood watching the play of
+the fire, her great, deep eyes would darken with a grave, almost anxious
+expression; again they would smile with a world of untold happiness in
+their depths. Again they would change, in a flash, to a hard, cold gleam
+of hatred and unyielding purpose; then slowly, a tender expression, such
+as that of a mother for Her new-born babe, would creep into them and
+shine down into the depths of the fire with a world of sweet sympathy.
+But through all there was a tight compression of the lips, which spoke
+of the earnest purpose which governed her thoughts; a slight pucker of
+the brows, which surely told of a great concentration of mind.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she roused herself, and, walking to where a table-bell stood,
+rang sharply upon it. Her summons was almost immediately answered by the
+entry of a servant.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky turned as the door opened, and fired an abrupt question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Has Uncle John been in, Mamie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl's face had resumed its usual strong, kindly expression.
+Whatever was hidden behind that calm exterior, she had no intention of
+giving a chance observer any clew to it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, miss,&quot; the servant replied, in that awestruck tone which domestics
+are apt to use when sharply interrogated. She was an intelligent-looking
+girl. Her dark skin and coarse black hair pronounced her a half-breed.
+Her mistress had said &quot;blood is thicker than water.&quot; All the domestics
+under Jacky's charge hailed from the half-breed camp.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Was my message delivered to him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Unconcernedly as she spoke she waited with some anxiety for the answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes, miss. Silas delivered it himself. The master was in company
+with Mr. Lablache and the doctor, miss,&quot; added the girl, discreetly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what did he say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He sent Silas for the letter, miss.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He didn't say what time he would return, I suppose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, miss&mdash;&quot; She hesitated and fumbled at the door handle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; as the girl showed by her attitude that there was something she
+had left unsaid.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky's question rang acutely in the quiet room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Silas&mdash;&quot; began the girl, with a deprecating air of unbelief&mdash;&quot;you know
+what strange notions he takes&mdash;he said&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl stopped in confusion under the steady gaze of her mistress.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Speak up, girl,&quot; exclaimed Jacky, impatiently. &quot;What is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, nothing, miss,&quot; the girl blurted out desperately. &quot;Only Silas said
+as the master didn't seem well like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! That will do.&quot; Then, as the girl still stood at the door, &quot;You can
+go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dismissal was peremptory, and the half-breed had no choice but to
+depart. She had hoped to have heard something interesting, but her
+mistress was never given to being communicative with servants.</p>
+
+<p>When the door had closed behind the half-breed Jacky turned again
+towards the stove. Again she was plunged in deep thought. This time
+there could be no mistake as to its tenor. Her heart was racked with an
+anxiety which was not altogether new to it. The sweet face was pale and
+her eyelids flickered ominously. The servant's veiled meaning was quite
+plain to her. Brave, hardy as this girl of the prairie was, the fear
+that was ever in her heart had suddenly assumed the proportions of a
+crushing reality. She loved her uncle with an affection that was almost
+maternal. It was the love of a strong, resolute nature for one of a
+kindly but weak disposition. She loved the gray-headed old man, whose
+affection had made her life one long, long day of happiness, with a
+tenderness which no recently-acquired faults of his could alienate.
+He&mdash;and now another&mdash;was her world. A world in which it was her joy to
+dwell. And now&mdash;now; what of the present? Racked by losses brought about
+through the agency of his all-absorbing passion, the weak old man was
+slowly but surely taking to drowning his consciousness of the appalling
+calamity which he had consistently set to work to bring about, and which
+in his lucid moments he saw looming heavily over his house, in drink.
+She had watched him with the never-failing eye of love, and had seen, to
+her horror, the signs she so dreaded. She could face disaster stoically,
+she could face danger unflinchingly, but this moral wrecking of the old
+man, who had been more to her than a father, was more than she could
+bear. Two great tears welled up into her beautiful, somber eyes and
+slowly rolled down her cheeks. She bowed like a willow bending to the
+force of the storm.</p>
+
+<p>Her weakness was only momentary, however; her courage, bred from the
+wildness of her life surroundings, rose superior to her feminine
+weakness. She dashed her gloved hands across her eyes and wiped the
+tears away. She felt that she must be doing&mdash;not weeping. Had not she
+sealed a solemn compact with her lover? She must to work without delay.</p>
+
+<p>She glanced round the room. Her gaze was that of one who wishes to
+reassure herself. It was as if the old life had gone from her and she
+was about to embark on a career new&mdash;foreign to her. A career in which
+she could see no future&mdash;only the present. She felt like one taking a
+long farewell to a life which had been fraught with nothing but delight.
+The expression of her face told of the pain of the parting. With a heavy
+sigh she passed out of the room&mdash;out into the chill night air, where
+even the welcome sounds of the croaking frogs and the lowing cattle were
+not. Where nothing was to cheer her for the work which in the future
+must be hers. Something of that solemn night entered her soul. The gloom
+of disaster was upon her.</p>
+
+<p>It was only a short distance to Dr. Abbot's house. The darkness of the
+night was no hindrance to the girl. Hither she made her way with the
+light, springing step of one whose mind is made up to a definite
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>She found Mrs. Abbot in. The little sitting-room in the doctor's house
+was delightfully homelike and comfortable. There was nothing pretentious
+about it&mdash;just solid comfort. And the great radiating stove in the
+center of it smelt invitingly warm to the girl as she came in out of the
+raw night air. Mrs. Abbot was alternating between a basket of sewing and
+a well-worn, cheap-edition novel. The old lady was waiting with
+patience, the outcome of experience, for the return of her lord to his
+supper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, 'Aunt' Margaret,&quot; said Jacky, entering with the confidence of an
+assured welcome, &quot;I've come over for a good gossip. There's nobody at
+home&mdash;up there,&quot; with a nod in the direction of the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dear child, I'm so pleased,&quot; exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, coming forward
+from her rather rigid seat, and kissing the girl on both cheeks with
+old-fashioned cordiality. &quot;Come and sit by the stove&mdash;yes, take that
+hideous hat off, which, by the way, I never could understand your
+wearing. Now, when John and I were first en&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes, dear. I know what you're going to say,&quot; interrupted the girl,
+smiling in spite of the dull aching at her heart. She knew how this
+sweet old lady lived in the past, and she also knew how, to a
+sympathetic ear, she loved to pour out the delights of memory from a
+heart overflowing with a strong affection for the man of her choice.
+Jacky had come here to talk of other matters, and she knew that when
+&quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret liked she could be very shrewd and practical.</p>
+
+<p>Something in the half-wistful smile of her companion brought the old
+lady quickly back from the realms of recollection, and a pair of keen,
+kindly eyes met the steady gray-black orbs of the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Jacky, my child, we of the frivolous sex are always being forced
+into considering the mundane matters of everyday life here at Foss
+River. What is it, dear? I can see by your face that you are worrying
+over something.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl threw herself into an easy chair, drawn up to the glowing stove
+with careful forethought by the old lady. Mrs. Abbot reseated herself in
+the straight-backed chair she usually affected. She carefully put her
+book on one side and took up some darning, assiduously inserting the
+needle but without further attempt at work. It was something to fix her
+attention on whilst talking. Old Mrs. Abbot always liked to be able to
+occupy her hands when talking seriously. And Jacky's face told her that
+this was a moment for serious conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where's the Doc?&quot; the girl asked without preamble. She knew, of course,
+but she used the question by way of making a beginning.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady imperceptibly straightened her back. She now anticipated
+the reason of her companion's coming. She glanced over the top of a pair
+of gold <i>pince-nez</i>, which she had just settled comfortably upon the
+bridge of her pretty, broad nose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's down at the saloon playing poker. Why, dear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her question was so innocent, but Jacky was not for a moment deceived by
+its tone. The girl smiled plaintively into the fire. There was no
+necessity for her to disguise her feelings before &quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret, she
+knew. But her loyal nature shrank from flaunting her uncle's weaknesses
+before even this kindly soul. She kept her fencing attitude a little
+longer, however.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who is he playing with?&quot; Jacky raised a pair of inquiring gray eyes to
+her companion's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your uncle and&mdash;Lablache.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The shrewd old eyes watched the girl's face keenly. But Jacky gave no
+sign.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will you send for him, 'Aunt' Margaret?&quot; said the girl, quietly.
+&quot;Without letting him know that I am here,&quot; she added, as an
+afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, dear,&quot; the old lady replied, rising with alacrity. &quot;Just
+wait a moment while I send word. Keewis hasn't gone to his teepee yet. I
+set him to clean some knives just now. He can go. These Indians are
+better messengers than they are domestics.&quot; Mrs. Abbot bustled out of
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>She returned a moment later, and, drawing her chair beside that of the
+girl, seated herself and rested one soft white hand on those of her
+companion, which were reposing clasped in the lap of her dungaree skirt.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, tell me, dear&mdash;tell me all about it&mdash;I know, it is your uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sympathy of her tone could never have been conveyed in mere words.
+This woman's heart expressed its kindliness in voice and eyes. There was
+no resisting her, and Jacky made no effort to do so.</p>
+
+<p>For one instant there flashed into the girl's face a look of utter
+distress. She had come purposely to talk plainly to the woman whom she
+had lovingly dubbed &quot;Aunt Margaret,&quot; but she found it very hard when it
+came to the point, She cast about in her mind for a beginning, then
+abandoned the quest and blurted out lamely the very thing from which she
+most shrank.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, auntie, you've observed uncle lately&mdash;I mean how strange he is?
+You've noticed how often, now, he is&mdash;is not himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whisky,&quot; said the old lady, uncompromisingly. &quot;Yes, dear, I have. It is
+quite the usual thing to smell' old man Smith's vile liquor when John
+Allandale is about. I'm glad you've spoken. I did not like to say
+anything to you about it. John's on a bad trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and a trail with a long, downhill gradient,&quot; replied Jacky, with a
+rueful little smile. &quot;Say, aunt,&quot; she went on, springing suddenly to her
+feet and confronting the old lady's mildly-astonished gaze, &quot;isn't there
+anything we can do to stop him? What is it? This poker and whisky are
+ruining him body and soul. Is the whisky the result of his losses? Or is
+the madness for a gamble the result of the liquor?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Neither the one&mdash;nor the other, my dear. It is&mdash;Lablache.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The older woman bent over her darning, and the needle passed, rippling,
+round a &quot;potato&quot; in the sock which was in her lap. Her eyes were
+studiously fixed upon the work.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;Lablache! It is always Lablache, whichever way I turn.
+Gee&mdash;but the whole country reeks of him. I tell you right here, aunt,
+that man's worse than scurvy in our ranching world. Everybody and
+everything in Foss River seems to be in his grip.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Excepting a certain young woman who refuses to be ensnared.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The words were spoken quite casually. But Jacky started. Their meaning
+was driven straight home. She looked down upon the bent, gray head as if
+trying to penetrate to the thought that was passing within. There was a
+moment's impressive silence. The clock ticked loudly in the silence of
+the room. A light wind was whistling rather shrilly outside, round the
+angles of the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on, auntie,&quot; said the girl, slowly. &quot;You haven't said enough&mdash;yet. I
+guess you're thinking mighty&mdash;deeply.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot looked up from her work. She was smiling, but behind that
+smile there was a strange gravity in the expression of her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is nothing more to say at present.&quot; Then she added, in a tone
+from which all seriousness had vanished, &quot;Hasn't Lablache ever asked you
+to marry him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A light was beginning to dawn upon the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought so.&quot; It was now Mrs. Abbot's turn to rise and confront her
+companion. And she did so with the calm manner of one who is assured
+that what she is about to say cannot be refuted. Her kindly face had
+lost nothing of its sweet expression, only there was something in it
+which seemed to be asking a mute question, whilst her words conveyed the
+statement of a case as she knew it. &quot;You dear, foolish people. Can you
+not see what is going on before your very eyes, or must a stupid old
+woman like myself explain what is patent to the veriest fool in the
+settlement? Lablache is the source of your uncle's trouble, and,
+incidentally, you are the incentive. I have watched&mdash;I have little else
+to do in Foss River&mdash;you all for years past, and there is little that I
+could not tell you about any of you, as far as the world sees you.
+Lablache has been a source of a world of thought to me. The business
+side of him is patent to everybody. He is hard, flinty, tyrannical&mdash;even
+unscrupulous. I am telling you nothing new, I know. But there is another
+side to his character which some of you seem to ignore. He is capable of
+strong passions&mdash;ay, very strong passions. He has conceived a passion
+for you. I will call it by no other name in such an unholy brute as
+Lablache. He wishes to marry <i>you&mdash;he means to marry you</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The silver-haired old lady had worked herself up to an unusual
+vehemence. She paused after accentuating her last words. Jacky, taking
+advantage of the break, dropped in a question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But&mdash;how does this affect my uncle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret sniffed disdainfully and resettled the glasses which, in
+the agitation of the moment, had slipped from her nose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course it affects your uncle,&quot; she continued more quietly. &quot;Now
+listen and I will explain.&quot; Once more these two seated themselves and
+&quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret again plunged into her story.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sometimes I catch myself speculating as to how it comes about that you
+have inspired this passion in such a man as Lablache,&quot; she began,
+glancing into the somberly beautiful face beside her. &quot;I should have
+expected that mass of flesh and money&mdash;he always reminds me of a
+jelly-fish, my dear&mdash;ugh!&mdash;to have wished to take to himself one of your
+gaudy butterflies from New York or London for a wife; not a simple child
+of the prairie who is more than half a wild&mdash;wild savage.&quot; She smiled
+lovingly into the girl's face. &quot;You see these coarse money-grubbers
+always prefer their pills well gilded, and, as a rule, their matrimonial
+pills need a lot of gilding to bring them up to the standard of what
+they think a wife should be. However, it was not long before it became
+plain to me that he wished to marry you. He may be a master of finance;
+he may disguise his feelings&mdash;if he has any&mdash;in business, so that the
+shrewdest observer can discover no vulnerable point in his armor of
+dissimulation. But when it comes to matters pertaining
+to&mdash;to&mdash;love&mdash;quite the wrong word in his case, my dear&mdash;these men are
+as babes; worse, they are fools. When Lablache makes up his mind to a
+purpose he generally accomplishes his end&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In business,&quot; suggested Jacky, moodily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so&mdash;in business, my dear. In matters matrimonial it may be
+different. But I doubt his failure in that,&quot; went on Mrs. Abbot, with a
+decided snap of her expressive mouth. &quot;He will try by fair means or
+foul, and, if I know anything of him, he will never relinquish his
+purpose. He asked you to marry him&mdash;and of course you refused, quite
+natural and right. He will not risk another refusal from you&mdash;these
+people consider themselves very sensitive, my dear&mdash;so he will attempt
+to accomplish his end by other means&mdash;means much more congenial to him,
+the&mdash;the beast. There now, I've said it, my dear. The doctor tells me
+that he is quite the most skilful player at poker that he has ever come
+across.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess that's so,&quot; said the girl, with a dark, ironical smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that his luck is phenomenal,&quot; the old lady went on, without
+appearing to notice the interruption. &quot;Very well. Your uncle, the old
+fool&mdash;excuse me, my dear&mdash;has done nothing but gamble all his life. The
+doctor says that he believes John has never been known to win more than
+about once in a month's play, no matter with whom he plays. You know&mdash;we
+all know&mdash;that for years he has been in the habit of raising loans from
+this monumental cuttle-fish to settle his losses. And you can trust that
+individual to see that these loans are well secured. John Allandale is
+reputed very rich, but the doctor assures me that were Lablache to
+foreclose his mortgages a very, very big slice of your uncle's worldly
+goods would be taken to meet his debts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now comes the last stage of the affair,&quot; she went on, with a sage
+little shake of the head. &quot;How long ago is it since Lablache proposed to
+you? But there, you need not tell me. It was a little less than a year
+ago&mdash;wasn't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her companion nodded her head. She wondered how &quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret had
+guessed it. She had never told a soul herself. The shrewd little old
+lady was filling her with wonder. The careful manner in which she had
+pieced facts together and argued them out with herself revealed to her
+a cleverness and observation she would never, in spite of the kindly
+soul's counsels, have given her credit for.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I knew I was right,&quot; said Mrs. Abbot, complacently. &quot;Just about
+the time when Lablache began seriously to play poker&mdash;about the time
+when his phenomenal luck set in, to the detriment of your uncle. Yes, I
+am well posted,&quot; as the girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. &quot;The
+doctor tells me a great deal&mdash;especially about your uncle, dear. I
+always like to know what is going on. And now to bring my long
+explanation to an end. Don't you see how Lablache intends to marry you?
+Your uncle's losses this winter have been so terribly heavy&mdash;and all to
+Lablache. Lablache holds the whip hand of him. A request from Lablache
+becomes a command&mdash;or the crash.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how about the Doc,&quot; asked Jacky, quickly. &quot;He plays with
+them&mdash;mostly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The doctor can take care of himself. He's cautious, and
+besides&mdash;Lablache has no wish to win his money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But surely he must lose? Say, auntie, dear, it's not possible to play
+against Lablache's luck without losing&mdash;some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, dear, I can't say I know much of the game,&quot; with some perplexity,
+&quot;but the doctor assures me that Lablache never hits him hard. Often and
+often when the 'pot' rests between them Lablache will throw down his
+hand&mdash;which goes to show that he does not want to take his money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An' I reckon goes to show that he's bucking dead against Uncle John,
+only. Yes, I see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The little gray head again bent over the darning, which had lain almost
+untouched in her lap during her long recital. Now she resolutely drew
+the darning yarn through the soft wool of the sock and re-inserted the
+needle. The girl beside her bent an eager face before her, and, resting
+her chin upon her hands, propped her elbows on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, auntie, I know,&quot; Jacky went on thoughtfully. &quot;Lablache means to
+put this marriage with me right through. I see it all. But say,&quot;
+bringing one of her brown hands down forcibly upon that of her
+companion, which was concealed in the foot of the woolen sock, and
+gripping it with nervous strength, &quot;I guess he's reckoned without his
+bride. I'm not going to marry Lablache, auntie, dear, and you can bet
+your bottom dollar I'm not going to let him ruin uncle. All I want to do
+is to stop uncle drinking. That is what scares me most.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My child, Lablache is the cause of that. The same as he is the cause of
+all troubles in Foss River. Your uncle realizes the consequences of the
+terrible losses he has incurred. He knows, only too well, that he is
+utterly in the money-lender's power. He knows he must go on playing,
+vainly endeavoring to recover himself, and with each fresh loss he
+drinks deeper to smother his fears and conscience. It is the result of
+the weakness of his nature&mdash;a weakness which I have always known would
+sooner or later lead to his undoing. Jacky, girl, I fear you will one
+day have to marry Lablache or your uncle's ruin will be certainly
+accomplished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot's face was very serious now. She pitied from the bottom of
+her heart this motherless girl who had come to her, in spite of her
+courage and almost mannish independence, for that sympathy and advice
+which, at certain moments, the strongest woman cannot do without. She
+knew that all she had said was right, and even if her story could do no
+material good it would at least have the effect of putting the girl on
+her guard. In spite of her shrewdness Mrs. Abbot could never quite
+fathom her <i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;e</i>. And even now, as she gazed into the girl's face,
+she was wondering how&mdash;in what manner&mdash;the narration of her own
+observations would influence the other's future actions. The thick blood
+of the half-breed slowly rose into Jacky's face, until the dark skin was
+suffused with a heavy, passionate flush. Slowly, too, the somber eyes
+lit&mdash;glowed&mdash;until the dazzling fire of anger shone in their depths.
+Then she spoke; not passionately, but with a hard, cruel delivery which
+sent a shiver thrilling through her companion's body and left her
+shuddering.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Aunt' Margaret, I swear by all that's holy that I'll never marry that
+scum. Say, I'd rather follow a round-up camp and share a greaser's
+blankets than wear all the diamonds Lablache could buy. An' as for
+uncle; say, the day that sees him ruined'll see Lablache's filthy brains
+spoiling God's pure air.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Child, child,&quot; replied the old lady, in alarm, &quot;don't take oaths, the
+rashness&mdash;the folly of which you cannot comprehend. For goodness' sake
+don't entertain such wicked thoughts. Lablache is a villain, but&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She broke off and turned towards the door, which, at that moment, opened
+to admit the genial doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah,&quot; she went on, with a sudden change of manner back to that of her
+usual cheerful self, &quot;I thought you men were going to make a night of
+it. Jacky came to share my solitude.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good evening, Jacky,&quot; said the doctor. &quot;Yes, we were going to make a
+night of it, Margaret. Your summons broke up the party, and for John's
+sake&mdash;&quot; He checked himself, and glanced curiously at the recurrent form
+of the girl, who was now lounging back in her chair gazing into the
+stove. &quot;What did you want me for?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky rose abruptly from her seat and picked up her hat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Aunt' Margaret didn't really want you, Doc. It was I who asked her to
+send for you. I want to see uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor permitted himself the ejaculation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good-night, you two dear people,&quot; the girl went on, with a forced
+attempt at cheerfulness. &quot;I guess uncle'll be home by now, so I'll be
+off.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, he left the saloon with me,&quot; said Doctor Abbot, shaking hands and
+walking towards the door. &quot;You'll just about catch him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl kissed the old lady and passed out. The doctor stood for a
+moment on his doorstep gazing after her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poor child&mdash;poor child!&quot; he murmured. &quot;Yes, she'll find him&mdash;I saw him
+home myself,&quot; And he broke off with an expressive shrug.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI" />CHAPTER XI - THE CAMPAIGN OPENS</h2>
+
+
+<p>The summit of a hill, however insignificant its altitude, is always an
+inspiring vantage point from which to survey the surrounding world.
+There is a briskness of atmosphere on a hilltop which is inspiriting to
+the most jaded of faculties; there is a sparkling vitality in the breath
+of the morning air which must ever make life a joy and the world seem an
+inexpressible delight in which it is the acme of happiness to dwell.</p>
+
+<p>The exigencies of prairie life demand the habit of early rising, and
+more often does the tiny human atom, which claims for its home the vast
+tracts of natural pasture, gaze upon the sloth of the orb of day than
+does that glorious sphere smile down upon a sleeping world.</p>
+
+<p>Far as the eye can reach stretch the mighty wastes of waving grass&mdash;the
+undulating plains of ravishing verdure. What breadth of thought must
+thus be inspired in one who gazes out across the boundless expanse at
+the glories of a perfect sunrise? How insignificant becomes the petty
+affairs of man when gazing upon the majesty of God's handiwork. How
+utterly inconceivable becomes the association of evil with such
+transcendently beautiful creation? Surely no evil was intended to lurk
+in the shadow of so much simple splendor.</p>
+
+<p>And yet does the ghastly specter of crime haunt the perfect plains, the
+majestic valleys, the noiseless, inspiring pine woods, the glistening,
+snow-capped hills. And so it must remain as long as the battle of life
+continues undecided&mdash;so long as the struggle for existence endures.</p>
+
+<p>The Hon. Bunning-Ford rose while yet the daylight was struggling to
+overcome the shades of night. He stood upon the tiny veranda which
+fronted his minute house, smoking his early morning cigarette. He was
+waiting for his coffee&mdash;that stimulating beverage which few who have
+lived in the wilds of the West can do without&mdash;and idly luxuriating in
+the wondrous charm of scene which was spread out before him. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill
+was not a man of great poetic mind, but he appreciated his adopted
+country&mdash;&quot;God's country,&quot; as he was wont to call it&mdash;as can only those
+who have lived in it. The prairie had become part of his very existence,
+and he loved to contemplate the varying lights and colors which moved
+athwart the fresh spring-clad plains as the sun rose above the eastern
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>The air was chill, but withal invigorating, as he watched the steely
+blue of the daylit sky slowly give place to the rosy tint of sunrise.
+Slowly at first&mdash;then faster&mdash;great waves of golden light seemed to leap
+from the top of one green rising ground to another; the gray white of
+the snowy western mountains passed from one dead shade to another,
+until, at last, they gleamed like alabaster from afar with a diamond
+brilliancy almost painful to the eye. Thus the sun rose like some mighty
+caldron of fire mounting into the cloudless azure of a perfect sky,
+showering unctuous rays of light and heat upon the chilled life that was
+of its own creating.</p>
+
+<p>Bill was still lost in thought, gazing out upon the perfect scene from
+the vantage point of the hill upon which his &quot;shack&quot; stood, when round
+the corner of the house came a half-breed, bearing a large tin pannikin
+of steaming coffee. He took the pannikin from the man and propped
+himself against a post which helped to support the roof of the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are the boys out yet?&quot; he asked the waiting Breed, and nodding towards
+the corrals, which reposed at the foot of the hill and were overlooked
+by the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess,&quot; the fellow replied laconically. Then, as an afterthought,
+&quot;They're getting breakfast, anyhow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, when they've finished their grub you can tell 'em to turn to and
+lime out the sheds. I'm going in to the settlement to-day. If I'm not
+back to-night let them go right on with the job to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man signified his understanding of the instructions with a grunt.
+This cook of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's was not a man of words. His vocation had
+induced an irascibility of temper which took the form of silence. His
+was an incipient misanthropy.</p>
+
+<p>Bill returned the empty pannikin and strolled down towards the corrals
+and sheds. The great barn lay well away from where the cattle
+congregated. This ranch was very different from that of the Allandales
+of Foss River. It was some miles away from the settlement. Its
+surroundings were far more open. Timber backed the house, it is true,
+but in front was the broad expanse of the open plains. It was an
+excellent position, and, governed by a thrifty hand, would undoubtedly
+have thrived and ultimately vied with the more elaborate establishment
+over which Jacky held sway. As it was, however, Bill cared little for
+prosperity and money-making, and though he did not neglect his property
+he did not attempt to extend its present limits.</p>
+
+<p>The milch cows were slowly mouching from the corrals as he neared the
+sheds. A diminutive herder was urging them along with shrill, piping
+shrieks&mdash;vicious but ineffective. Far more to the purpose were the
+efforts to a well-trained, bob-tailed sheep dog who was awaking echoes
+on the brisk morning air with the full-toned note of his bark.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill found one or two hands quietly enjoying their
+after-breakfast smoke, but the majority had not as yet left the kitchen.
+Outside the barn two men were busily soft-soaping their saddles and
+bridles, whilst a third, seated on an upturned box, was wiping out his
+revolver with a coal-oil rag. Bill passed them by with a nod and
+greeting, and went into the stable. The horses were feeding, but as yet
+the stalls had not been cleaned out. He returned and gave some
+instructions to one of the men. Then he walked slowly back to the house.
+Usually he would have stayed down there to see the work of the day
+carried out; now, however, he was preoccupied. On this particular
+morning he took but little interest in the place; he knew only too well
+how soon it must pass from his possession.</p>
+
+<p>Half-way up the hill he paused and turned his sleepy eyes towards the
+south. At a considerable distance a vehicle was approaching at a
+spanking pace. It was a buckboard, one of those sturdy conveyances built
+especially for light prairie transport. As yet it was not sufficiently
+near for him to distinguish its occupant, but the speed and cut of the
+horses seemed familiar to him. He continued on towards the house, and
+seated himself leisurely on the veranda, and, rolling himself another
+cigarette, calmly watched the on-coming conveyance.</p>
+
+<p>It was the habit of this man never to be prodigal in the display of
+energy. He usually sat when there was no need for standing; he always
+considered speech to be golden, but silence, to his way of thinking, was
+priceless. And like most men of such opinion he cultivated thought and
+observation.</p>
+
+<p>He propped his back against the veranda post, and, taking a deep
+inhalation from his cigarette, gazed long and earnestly, with
+half-closed eyes, down the winding southern trail.</p>
+
+<p>His curiosity, if such a feeling might have been attributed to him, was
+soon set at rest, for, as the horses raced up the hill towards him, he
+had no difficulty in recognizing the bulky proportions of his visitor.
+Seeing the driver of the buckboard making for the house, two of the
+&quot;hands&quot; had hastened up the hill to take the horses. Lablache, for it
+was the fleshy money-lender, slid, as agilely as his great bulk would
+permit him, from the vehicle, and the two men took charge of the horses.
+Bill was not altogether cordial. It was not his way to be so to anybody
+but his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How are you?&quot; he said with a nod, but without rising from his recumbent
+attitude. &quot;Goin' to stay long?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His latter question sounded churlish, but Lablache understood his
+meaning. It was of the horses the rancher was thinking.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An hour, maybe,&quot; replied Lablache, breathing heavily as a result of his
+climb out of the buckboard.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right Take 'em away, boys. Remove the harness and give 'em a good rub
+down. Don't water or feed 'em till they're cool. They're spanking
+'plugs,' Lablache,&quot; he added, as he watched the horses being led down to
+the barn. &quot;Come inside. Had breakfast?&quot; rising and knocking the dust
+from the seat of his moleskin trousers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I had breakfast before daylight, thanks,&quot; Lablache said, glancing
+quickly down at the empty corrals, where his horses were about to
+undergo a rubbing down. &quot;I came out to have a business chat with you.
+Shall we go in-doors?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Most certainly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was an expressive curtness in the two words. Bill permitted
+himself a brief survey of the great man's back as the latter turned
+towards the front door. And although his half-closed lids hid the
+expression of his eyes, the pursing of the lips and the fluctuating
+muscles of his jaw spoke of unpleasant thoughts passing through his
+mind. A business talk with Lablache, under the circumstances, could not
+afford the rancher much pleasure. He followed the money-lender into the
+sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p>The apartment was very bare, mannish, and scarcely the acme of neatness.
+A desk, a deck chair, a bench and a couple of old-fashioned windsor
+chairs; a small table, on which breakfast things were set, an old
+saddle, a rack of guns and rifles, a few trophies of the chase in the
+shape of skins and antelope heads comprised the furniture and
+decorations of the room. And too, in that slightly uncouth collection,
+something of the character of the proprietor was revealed.</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford was essentially careless of comfort. And surely he was
+nothing if not a keen and ardent sportsman.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sit down.&quot; Bill indicated the chairs with a wave of the arm. Lablache
+dubiously eyed the deck chair, then selected one of the unyielding
+Windsor chairs as more safe for the burden of his precious body, tested
+it, and sat down, emitting a gasp of breath like an escape of steam from
+a safety-valve. The younger man propped himself on the corner of his
+desk.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked furtively into his companion's face. Then he turned his
+eyes in the direction of the window. Bill said nothing, his face was
+calm. He intended the money-lender to speak first. The latter seemed
+indisposed to do so. His lashless eyes gazed steadily out at the prairie
+beyond. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's persistent silence at length forced the other into
+speech. His words came slowly and were frequently punctuated with deep
+breaths.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your ranch&mdash;everything you possess is held on first mortgage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not all.&quot; Bunning-Ford's answer came swiftly. The abruptness of the
+other's announcement nettled him. The tone of the words conveyed a
+challenge which the younger man was not slow to accept.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged his shoulders with deliberation until his fleshy jowl
+creased against the woolen folds of his shirt front.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It comes to the same thing,&quot; he said; &quot;what I&mdash;what is not mortgaged is
+held in bonds. The balance, practically all of it, you owe under
+signature to Pedro Mancha. It is because of that&mdash;latest&mdash;debt I am
+here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill rolled a fresh cigarette and lit it. He guessed something of what
+was coming&mdash;but not all.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mancha will force you to meet your liabilities to him. Your interest is
+shortly due to the Calford Loan Co. You cannot meet both.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache gazed unblinkingly into the other's face. He was thoroughly
+enjoying himself.</p>
+
+<p>Bill was staring pensively at his cigarette. One leg swung pendulum
+fashion beside the desk. His indebtedness troubled him not a jot. He was
+trying to fathom the object of this prelude. Lablache, he knew, had not
+come purposely to make these plain statements. He blew a cloud of smoke
+down his nostrils with much appreciation. Then he heaved a sigh as
+though his troubles were too great for him to bear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right&mdash;dead right, first time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The lazy eyes appeared to be staring into space. In reality they were
+watching the doughy countenance before him. &quot;What do you propose to do?&quot;
+Lablache asked, ignoring the other's flippant tone.</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Debts of honor must be met first,&quot; he said quietly. &quot;Mancha must be
+paid in full. I shall take care of that. For the rest, I have no doubt
+your business knowledge will prompt you as to what course the Calford
+Loan Co. and yourself had best adopt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was slightly taken aback at the cool indifference of this man.
+He scarcely knew how to deal with him. He had driven out this morning
+intending to coerce, or, at least, strike a hard bargain. But the object
+of his attentions was, to say the least of it, difficult.</p>
+
+<p>He moved uneasily and crossed his legs.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is only one course open to your creditors. It is a harsh method
+and one which goes devilishly against the grain. But&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pray don't apologize, Mr. Lablache,&quot; broke in the other, smiling
+sardonically. &quot;I am fully aware of the tender condition of your
+feelings. I only trust that in this matter you will carry out
+your&mdash;er&mdash;painful duty without worrying me with the detail of the
+necessary routine. I shall settle Mancha's debt at once and then you are
+welcome to the confounded lot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill moved from his position and walked towards the door. The
+significance of his action was well marked. Lablache, however, had no
+intention of going yet. He moved heavily round upon his chair so as to
+face his man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One moment&mdash;er&mdash;Ford. You are a trifle precipitate. I was going on to
+say, when you interrupted me, that if you cared to meet me half-way I
+have a proposition to make which might solve your difficulty. It is an
+unusual one, I admit, but,&quot; with a meaning smile, &quot;I rather fancy that
+the Calford Loan Co. might be induced to see the advantage, <i>to them</i>,
+of delaying action.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The object of this early morning visit was about to be made apparent.
+Bill returned to his position at the desk and lit another cigarette. The
+suave manner of his unwelcome guest was dangerous. He was prepared.
+There was something almost feline in the attitude and the expression of
+the young rancher as he waited for the money-lender to proceed. Perhaps
+Lablache understood him. Perhaps his understanding warned him to adopt
+his best manner. His usual method in dealing with his victims was hardly
+the same as he was now using.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, what is this 'unusual' course?&quot; asked Bill, in no very tolerant
+tone. He wished it made quite plain that he cared nothing about the
+&quot;selling up&quot; process to which he knew he must be subjected. Lablache
+noted the haughty manner and resented it, but still he gave no outward
+sign. He had a definite object to attain and he would not allow his
+anger to interfere with his chances of success.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Merely a pleasant little business arrangement which should meet all
+parties' requirements,&quot; he said easily. &quot;At present you are paying a ten
+per cent, interest on a principal of thirty-five thousand dollars to the
+Calford Loan Co. A debt of twenty thousand to me includes an amount of
+interest which represents ten per cent, interest for ten years. Very
+well, Your ranch should be yielding a greater profit than it is. With
+your permission the Calford Trust Co. shall put in a competent manager,
+whose salary shall be paid out of the profits. The balance of said
+profits shall be handed Over to your creditors, less an annual income to
+you of fifteen hundred dollars. Thus the principal of your debts, at a
+careful computation, should be liquidated in seven years. In
+consideration of thus shortening the period of the loans by three years
+the Calford Trust Co. shall allow you a rebate of five per cent,
+interest. Failing the profits in seven years amounting to the sums of
+money required, the Calford Trust Co. and myself will forego the balance
+due to us. Let me plainly assure you that this is no philanthropic
+scheme but the result of practical calculation. The advantage to you is
+obvious. An assured income during that period, and your ranch well and
+ably managed and improved. Your property at the end of seven years will
+return to you a vastly more valuable possession than it is at present.
+And we, on our part, will recover our money and interest without the
+unpleasant reflection that, in doing so, we have beggared you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, usurer, scoundrel, smiled benignly at his companion as he
+pronounced his concluding words. The Hon. Bunning-Ford looked, thought,
+and looked again. He began to think that Lablache was meditating a more
+rascally proceeding than he had given him credit for. His words were so
+specious. His pie was so delicately crusted with such a tempting
+exterior. What was the object of this magnanimous offer? He felt he must
+know more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It sounds awfully well, but surely that is not all. What, in return, is
+demanded of me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache had carefully watched the effect of his words. He was wondering
+whether the man he was dealing with was clever beyond the average, or a
+fool. He was still balancing the point in his mind when Bill put the
+question.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked away, produced a snuff-box and drew up a large pinch of
+snuff before answering. He blew his nose with trumpet-like vehemence on
+a great red bandana.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The only return asked of you is that you vacate the country for the
+next two years,&quot; he said heavily. And in that rejoinder &quot;Lord&quot; Bill
+understood the man's guile.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sudden awakening, but it came to him as no sort of surprise. He
+had long suspected, although he had never given serious credence to his
+suspicions, the object the money-lender had in inveigling both himself
+and &quot;Poker&quot; John into their present difficulties. Now he understood, and
+a burning desire swept over him to shoot the man down where he sat. Then
+a revulsion of feeling came to him and he saw the ludicrous side of the
+situation. He gazed at Lablache, that obese mountain of blubber, and
+tried to think of the beautiful, wild Jacky as the money-lender's wife.
+The thing seemed so preposterous that he burst out into a mocking laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, whose fishy eyes had never left the rancher's face, heard the
+tone and slowly flushed with anger. For an instant he seemed about to
+rise, then instead he leant forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; he asked, breathing his monosyllabic inquiry hissing upon the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>Bill emitted a thin cloud of smoke into the money-lender's face. His
+eyes had suddenly become wide open and blazing with anger. He pointed to
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll see you damned first! Now&mdash;git!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At the door Lablache turned. In his face was written all the fury of
+hell.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mancha's debt is transferred to me. You will settle it without delay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He had scarcely uttered the last word when there was a loud report, and
+simultaneously the crash of a bullet in the casing of the door. Lablache
+accepted his dismissal with precipitation and hastened to where his
+horses were stationed, to the accompaniment of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's mocking
+laugh. He had no wish to test the rancher's marksmanship further.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII" />CHAPTER XII - LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT</h2>
+
+
+<p>A month&mdash;just one month and the early spring has developed with almost
+tropical suddenness into a golden summer. The rapid passing of seasons,
+the abrupt break, the lightning change from one into another, is one of
+the many beauties of the climate of that fair land where there are no
+half measures in Nature's mode of dealing out from her varied store of
+moods. Spring chases Winter, hoary, bitter, cruel Winter, in the hours
+of one night; and in turn Spring's delicate influence is overpowered
+with equal celerity by the more matured and unctuous ripeness of Summer.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River had now become a glorious picture of vivid coloring. The
+clumps of pine woods no longer present their tattered purplish
+appearance, the garb in which grim Winter is wont to robe them. They are
+lighter, gayer, and bathed in the gleaming sunlight they are transformed
+from their somber forbidding aspect to that of radiant, welcome shade.
+The river is high, almost to flooding point. And the melting snow on the
+distant mountain-tops has urged it into a sparkling torrent of icy cold
+water rushing on at a pace which threatens to tear out its deterring
+banks and shallow bed in its mad career.</p>
+
+<p>The most magical change which the first month of summer has brought is
+to be seen in the stock. Cattle, when first brought in from distant
+parts at the outset of the round-up, usually are thin, mean-looking, and
+half-starved. Two weeks of the delicious spring grass and the fat on
+their ribs and loins rolls and shakes as they move, growing almost
+visibly under the succulent influence of the delicate vegetation.</p>
+
+<p>Few at Foss River appreciated the blessings of summer more fully than
+did Jacky Allandale, and few worked harder than did she. Almost
+single-handed she grappled with the stupendous task of the management of
+the great ranch, and no &quot;hand,&quot; however experienced, was more capable in
+the most arduous tasks which that management involved. From the skillful
+organization down to the roping and branding of a wild two-year-old
+steer there was no one who understood the business of stock-raising
+better than she. She loved it&mdash;it was the very essence of life to her.</p>
+
+<p>Silas, her uncle's foreman, was in the habit of summing her up in his
+brief but expressive way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Missie Jacky?&quot; he would exclaim, in tones of surprise, to any one who
+dared to express wonder at her masterly management. &quot;Guess a cyclone
+does its biz mighty thorough, but I take it ef that gal 'ud been born a
+hurricane she'd 'ave dislodged mountains an' played baseball with the
+glaciers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But this year things were different with the mistress of the Foss River
+Ranch. True she went about her work with that thorough appreciation
+which she always displayed, but the young face had last something of its
+happy girlish delight&mdash;that <i>d&eacute;bonnaire</i> cheerfulness which usually
+characterized it. A shadow seemed to be hanging over her&mdash;a shadow,
+which, although it marred in no way her fresh young beauty, added a
+deepened pensiveness to her great somber eyes, and seemed to broaden the
+fringing black ring round the gray pupils. This year the girl had more
+to grapple with than the mere management of the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle needed all her care. And, too, the consciousness that the
+result of all her work was insufficient to pay the exorbitant interest
+on mortgages which had been forced upon her uncle by the hated,
+designing Lablache took something of the zest from her labors. Then,
+besides this, there were thoughts of the compact sealed between her
+lover and herself in Bad Man's Hollow, and the knowledge of the
+intentions of the money-lender towards &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, all helped to render
+her distrait. She knew all about the scene which had taken place at
+Bill's ranch, and she knew that, for her lover at least, the crash had
+come. During that first month of the open season the girl had been
+sorely tried. There was no one but &quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret to whom she could go
+for comfort or sympathy, and even she, with her wise councils and
+far-seeing judgment, could not share in the secrets which weighed so
+heavily upon the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky had not experienced, as might have been expected, very great
+difficulty in keeping her uncle fast to the grind-stone of duty.
+Whatever his faults and weaknesses, John Allandale was first of all a
+rancher, and when once the winter breaks every rancher must work&mdash;ay,
+work like no negro slave ever worked. It was only in the evenings, when
+bodily fatigue had weakened the purpose of ranching habit, and when the
+girl, wearied with her day's work, relaxed her vigilance, that the old
+man craved for the object of his passion and its degrading
+accompaniment. Then he would nibble at the whisky bottle, having &quot;earned
+his tonic,&quot; as he would say, until the potent spirit had warmed his
+courage and he would hurry off to the saloon for &quot;half an hour's
+flutter,&quot; which generally terminated in the small hours of the morning.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the state of affairs at the Foss River Ranch when Lablache put
+into execution his threats against the Hon. Bunning-Ford. The settlement
+had returned to its customary torpid serenity. The round-up was over,
+and all the &quot;hands&quot; had returned to the various ranches to which they
+belonged. The little place had entered upon its period of placid sleep,
+which would last until the advent of the farmers to spend the proceeds
+of their garnered harvest. But this would be much later in the year, and
+in the meantime Foss River would sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The night before the sale of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's ranch, he and Jacky went for
+a ride. They had thus ridden out on many evenings of late. Old John was
+too absorbed in his own affairs to bother himself at these evening
+journeyings, although, in his careless way, he noticed how frequent a
+visitor at the ranch Bill had lately become. Still, he made no
+objection. If his niece saw fit to encourage these visits he would not
+interfere. In his eyes the girl could do no wrong. It was his one
+redeeming feature, his love for the motherless girl, and although his
+way of showing it was more than open to criticism, it was true he loved
+her with a deep, strong affection.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River was far too sleepy to bother about these comings and goings.
+Lablache, alone, of the sleepy hamlet, eyed the evening journeys with
+suspicion. But even he was unable to fathom their object, and was forced
+to set them down, his whole being consumed with jealousy the while, to
+lovers' wanderings. However, these nightly rides were taken with
+purpose. After galloping across the prairie in various directions they
+always, as darkness crept on, terminated at a certain spot&mdash;the clump of
+willows and reeds at which the secret path across the great keg began.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was well down below the distant mountain peaks when Jacky and
+her lover reached the scrubby bush of willows and reeds upon the evening
+before the day of the sale of Bill's ranch. As they drew up their
+panting horses, and dismounted, the evening twilight was deepening over
+the vast expanse of the mire.</p>
+
+<p>The girl stood at the brink of the bottomless caldron of viscid muck and
+gazed out across the deadly plain. Bill stood still beside her, watching
+her face with eager, hungry eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; he said at last, as his impatience forced itself to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Bill,&quot; the girl answered slowly, as one balancing her decision
+well before giving judgment, &quot;the path has widened. The rain has kept
+off long enough, and the sun has done his best for us. It is a good
+omen. Follow me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She linked her arm through the reins of her horse's bridle, and leading
+the faithful animal, stepped fearlessly out on to the muskeg. As she
+trod the rotten crust she took a zigzag direction from one side of the
+secret path to the other. That which, in early spring, had scarcely been
+six feet in width, would now have borne ten horsemen abreast. Presently
+she turned back. &quot;We need go no further, Bill; what is safe here
+continues safe across the keg. It will widen in places, but in no place
+will the path grow narrower.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But tell me,&quot; said the man, anxious to assure himself that no detail
+was forgotten, &quot;what about the trail of our footprints?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl laughed. Then indenting the ground with her shapely boot until
+the moisture below oozed into the imprint, she looked up into the lazy
+face before her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See&mdash;we wait for one minute, and you shall see the result.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They waited in silence in the growing darkness. The night insects and
+mosquitoes buzzed around them. The man's attention was riveted upon the
+impression made by the girl's foot. Slowly the water filled the print,
+then slowly, under the moist influence, the ground, sponge-like, rose
+again, the water disappeared, and all sign of the footmark was gone.</p>
+
+<p>When again the ground had resumed its natural appearance the girl looked
+up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you satisfied, Bill? No man or beast who passes over this path
+leaves a trail which lasts longer than a minute. Even the rank grass,
+however badly trodden down, rears itself again with amazing vitality. I
+guess this place was created through the devil's agency and for the
+purpose of devil's work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill gave one sweeping glance around. Then he turned, and the two made
+their way back to the edge of the sucking mire.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, it'll do, dear. Now let us hasten home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They remounted their horses and were soon lost in the gathering darkness
+as they made their way over the brow of the rising ground, in the
+direction of the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>The next day saw the possession of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's ranch pass
+into other hands. Punctually at noon, the sale began. And by four
+o'clock the process, which robbed the rancher of everything that he
+possessed in the world, was completed.</p>
+
+<p>Bill stationed himself on the veranda and smoked incessantly while the
+sale proceeded. He was there to see how the things went, and, in fact,
+seemed to take an outsider's interest only. He experienced no morbid
+sentiment at the loss of his property&mdash;it is doubtful if he cared at
+all. Anyhow, his leisurely attitude and his appearance of good-natured
+indifference caused many surprised remarks amongst the motley collection
+of bidders who were present. In spite of these appearances, however, he
+did take a very keen interest. A representative of Lablache's was there
+to purchase stock, and Bill knew it, and his interest was centered on
+this would-be purchaser.</p>
+
+<p>The stock was the last thing to come under the hammer. There were twenty
+lots. Of these Lablache's representative purchased
+fifteen&mdash;three-quarters of the stock of the entire ranch.</p>
+
+<p>Bill waited only for this, then, as the sale closed, he leisurely rolled
+and lit another cigarette and strolled to where a horse, which he had
+borrowed from the Allandales stable, was tied, and rode slowly away.</p>
+
+<p>As he rode away he turned his head in the direction of the house upon
+the hill. He was leaving for good and all the place which had so long
+claimed him as master. He saw the small gathering of people still
+hanging about the veranda, upon which the auctioneer still stood with
+his clerk, busy over the sales. He noticed others passing hither and
+thither, as they prepared to depart with their purchases. But none of
+these things which he looked upon affected him in any mawkish,
+sentimental manner. It was all over. That little hill, with its wooded
+background and vast frontage of prairie, from which he had loved to
+watch the sun get up after its nightly sojourn, would know him no more.
+His indifference was unassumed. His was not the nature to regret past
+follies.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled softly as he turned his attention to the future which lay
+before him, and his smile was not in keeping with the expression of a
+broken man.</p>
+
+<p>In these last days of waning prosperity Bunning-Ford had noticeably
+changed. With loss of property he had lost much of that curious veneer
+of indolence, utter disregard of consequences, which had always been
+his. Not, that he had suddenly developed a violent activity or
+boisterous enthusiasm. Simply his interest in things and persons seemed
+to have received a fillip. There seemed to be an air of latent activity
+about him; a setness of purpose which must have been patent to any one
+sufficiently interested to observe the young rancher closely. But Foss
+River was too sleepy&mdash;indifferent&mdash;to worry itself about anybody, except
+those in its ranks who were riding the high horse of success. Those who
+fell out by the wayside were far too numerous to have more than a
+passing thought devoted to them. So this subtle change in the man was
+allowed to pass without comment by any except, perhaps, the
+money-lender, Lablache, and the shrewd, kindly wife of the
+doctor&mdash;people not much given to gossip.</p>
+
+<p>It was only since the discovery of Lablache's perfidy that &quot;Lord&quot; Bill
+had understood what living meant. His discovery in Smith's saloon had
+roused in him a very human manhood. Since that time he had been seized
+with a mental activity, a craving for action he had never, in all his
+lazy life, before experienced. This sudden change had been aggravated by
+Lablache's subsequent conduct, and the flame had been fanned by the
+right that Jacky had given him to protect her. The sensation was one of
+absorbing excitement, and the loss of property sat lightly upon him in
+consequence. Money he had not&mdash;property he had not. But he had now what
+he had never possessed before&mdash;he had an object.</p>
+
+<p>A lasting, implacable vengeance was his, from the contemplation of which
+he drew a satisfaction which no possession of property could have given
+him. Nature had, with incorrigible perversity, cut him out for a life of
+ease, whilst endowing him with a character capable of very great things.
+Now, in her waywardness she had aroused that character and overthrown
+the hindering superficialty in which she had clothed it. And further to
+mark her freakish mood, these same capabilities which might easily,
+under other circumstances, have led him into the fore-front of life's
+battle, she directed, with inexorable cruelty, into an adverse course.
+He had been cheated, robbed, and his soul thirsted for revenge. Lablache
+had robbed the uncle of the girl he loved, and, worse than all, the
+wretch had tried to oust him from the affections of the girl herself.
+Yes, he thirsted for revenge as might any traveler in a desert crave for
+water. His eyes, no longer sleepy, gleamed as he thought. His long,
+square jaws seemed welded into one as he thought of his wrongs. His was
+the vengeance which, if necessary, would last his lifetime. At least,
+whilst Lablache lived no quarter would he give or accept.</p>
+
+<p>Something of this he was thinking as he took his farewell of the ranch
+on the hill, and struck out in the direction of the half-breed camp
+situated in a hollow some distance outside the settlement of Foss
+River.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII" />CHAPTER XIII - THE FIRST CHECK</h2>
+
+
+<p>The afterglow of sunset slowly faded out of the western sky. And the
+hush of the night was over all. The feeling of an awful solitude, which
+comes to those whose business is to pass the night on the open prairie,
+is enhanced rather than reduced by the buzz of insect life upon the
+night air. The steady hum of the mosquito&mdash;the night song of the
+grasshoppers and frogs&mdash;the ticking, spasmodic call of the invisible
+beetles&mdash;all these things help to intensify the loneliness and magnitude
+of the wild surroundings. Nor does the smoldering camp-fire lessen the
+loneliness. Its very light deepens the surrounding dark, and its only
+use, after the evening meal is cooked, is merely to dispel the savage
+attack of the voracious mosquito and put the fear of man into the hearts
+of the prairie scavenger, the coyote, whose dismal howl awakens the
+echoes of the night at painfully certain intervals, and often drives
+sleep from the eyes of the weary traveler.</p>
+
+<p>It is rare that the &quot;cow-hand&quot; pitches his camp amongst hills, or in the
+neighborhood of any bushy growth. The former he shuns from a natural
+dislike for a limited view. The latter, especially if the bush takes the
+form of pine woods, is bad for many reasons, chief amongst which is the
+fact of its being the harborage of the savage, gigantic timber wolf&mdash;a
+creature as naturally truculent as the far-famed grizzly, the denizen of
+the towering Rockies.</p>
+
+<p>Upon a high level of the prairie, out towards the upper reaches of the
+Rainy River, a tributary of the broad, swift-flowing Foss River, and
+some fifteen miles from the settlement, two men were lounging, curled
+leisurely round the smoldering remains of a camp fire. Some distance
+away the occasional lowing of a cow betrayed the presence of a band of
+cattle.</p>
+
+<p>The men were wide awake and smoking. Whether they refrained from sleep
+through necessity or inclination matters little. Probably the hungry
+attacks of the newly-hatched mosquito were responsible for their
+wakefulness. Each man was wrapped in a single brown blanket, and folded
+saddle-cloth answered as a pillow, and it was noticeable that they were
+stretched out well to leeward of the fire, so that the smoke passed
+across them, driving away a few of the less audacious &quot;skitters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll get 'em in by dinner to-morrow,&quot; said one of the sleepless men
+thoughtfully. His remark was more in the tone of soliloquy than
+addressed to the other. Then louder, and in a manner which implied
+resentment, &quot;Them all-fired skitters is givin' me a twistin'.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Smoke up, pard,&quot; came a muffled rejoinder from the region of the other
+blanket &quot;Maybe your hide's a bit tender yet. I 'lows skitters 'most
+allus goes fur young 'uns. Guess I'm all right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dessay you are,&quot; replied the first speaker, sharply. &quot;I ain't been long
+in the country&mdash;leastways, not on the prairie, an' like as not I ain't
+dropped into the ways o' things. I've allus heerd as washin' is mighty
+bad when skitters is around. They doesn't worry you any.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He pulled heavily at his pipe until his face was enveloped in a fog of
+smoke. His companion's tone of patronage had nettled him. The old hand
+moved restlessly but did not answer. It is doubtful if the other's
+sarcasm had been observed. It was scarcely broad enough to penetrate the
+toughened hide of the older hand's susceptibilities.</p>
+
+<p>The silence was broken by a man's voice in the distance. The sound of an
+old familiar melody, chanted in a manly and not unmusical voice, reached
+the fireside. It was the voice of the man who was on watch round the
+band of cattle, and he was endeavoring to lull them into quiescence.
+The human voice, in the stillness of the night, has a somnolent effect
+upon cattle, and even mosquitoes, unless they are very thick, fail to
+counteract the effect. The older hand stirred. Then he sat up and
+methodically replenished the fire, kicking the dying embers together
+until they blazed afresh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jim Bowley do sing mighty sweet,&quot; he said, in disparaging tones. &quot;Like
+a crazy buzz-saw, I guess. S'pose them beasties is gettin' kind o'
+restless. Say, Nat, how goes the time? It must be night on ter your
+spell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Nat sat up and drew out a great silver watch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Haf an hour yet, pard.&quot; Then he proceeded to re-fill his pipe, cutting
+great flakes of black tobacco from a large plug with his sheath knife.
+Suddenly he paused in the operation and listened. &quot;Say, Jake, what's
+that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's what?&quot; replied Jake, roughly, preparing to lie down again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two men bent their keen, prairie-trained ears to windward. They
+listened intently. The night was very black&mdash;as yet the moon had not
+risen. Jake used his eyes as well as ears. On the prairie, as well as
+elsewhere, eyes have a lot to do with hearing. He sought to penetrate
+the darkness around him, but his efforts were unavailing. He could hear
+no sound but the voice of Jim Bowley and the steady plodding of his
+horse's feet as he ceaselessly circled the band of somnolent cattle. The
+sky was cloudy, and only here and there a few stars gleamed diamond-like
+in the heavens, but threw insufficient light to aid the eyes which
+sought to penetrate the surrounding gloom. The old hand threw himself
+back on his pillow in skeptical irritation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thar ain't nothin', young 'un,&quot; he said disdainfully. &quot;The beasties is
+quiet, and Jim Bowley ain't no tenderfoot. Say, them skitters 'as
+rattled yer. Guess you 'eard some prowlin' coyote. They allus come
+around whar ther's a tenderfoot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jake curled himself up again and chuckled at his own sneering
+pleasantry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Coyote yerself, Jake Bond,&quot; retorted Nat, angrily. &quot;Them lugs o' yours
+is gettin' old. Guess yer drums is saggin'. You're mighty smart, I don't
+think.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The youngster got on to his feet and walked to where the men's two
+horses were picketed. Both horses were standing with ears cocked and
+their heads held high in the direction of the mountains. Their attitude
+was the acme of alertness. As the man came up they turned towards him
+and whinnied as if in relief at the knowledge of his presence. But
+almost instantly turned again to gaze far out into the night. Wonderful
+indeed is a horse's instinct, but even more wonderful is the keenness of
+his sight and hearing.</p>
+
+<p>Nat patted his broncho on the neck, and then stood beside him
+watching&mdash;listening. Was it fancy, or was it fact? The faintest sound of
+a horse galloping reached him; at least, he thought so.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the fire sullenly antagonistic. He did not return to his
+blanket, but sat silently smoking and thinking. He hated the constant
+reference to his inexperience on the prairie. If even he did hear a
+horse galloping in the distance it didn't matter. But it was his ears
+that had first caught the sound in spite of his inexperience. His
+companion pigheadedly derided the fact because his own ears were not
+sufficiently keen to have detected the sound himself.</p>
+
+<p>Thus he sat for a few minutes gazing into the fire. Jake was now snoring
+loudly, and Nat was glad to be relieved from the tones of his sneering
+voice. Presently he rose softly from his seat, and taking his saddle
+blanket, saddled and bridled his horse. Then he mounted and silently
+rode off towards the herd. It was his relief on the cattle guard.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Bowley welcomed him with the genial heartiness of a man who knows
+that he has finished his vigil and that he can now lie down to rest. The
+guarding of a large herd at night is always an anxious time. Cattle are
+strange things to handle. A stampede will often involve a week's weary
+scouring of the prairie.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Jim Bowley was about to ride up to the camp, Nat fired a
+question which he had been some time meditating.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you didn't hear a horse gallopin' jest now, pard?&quot; he asked
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why cert, boy,&quot; the other answered quickly, &quot;only a deaf mule could 'a'
+missed it. Some one passed right under the ridge thar, away to the
+southwest. Guess they wer' travelin' mighty fast too. Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, nothin', Jim, on'y I guess Jake Bond's that same deaf mule you
+spoke of. He's too fond of gettin' at youngsters, the old fossil. I told
+'im as I 'card suthin', an' 'e told me as I was a tenderfoot and didn't
+know wot I was gassin' about.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jake's a cantankerous cuss, boy. Let 'im gas; 'e don't cut any figger
+anyway. Say, you keep yer eye peeled on some o' the young heifers on the
+far side o' the bunch. They're rustlin' some. They keep mouching after
+new grass. When the moon gits up you'll see better. S'long, mate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jim rode away towards the camp fire, and young Nat proceeded to circle
+round the great herd of cattle. It was a mighty bunch for three men to
+handle. But Lablache, its owner, was never one to underwork his men.
+This was the herd which he had purchased at the sale of Bunning-Ford's
+ranch. And they were now being taken to his own ranch, some distance to
+the south of the settlement, for the purpose of re-branding with his own
+marks.</p>
+
+<p>As young Nat entered upon his vigil the golden arc of the rising moon
+broke the sky-line of the horizon. Already the clouds were fast
+clearing, being slowly driven before the yellow glory of the orb of
+night. Soon the prairie would be bathed in the effulgent, silvery light
+which renders the western night so delicious when the moon is at its
+full.</p>
+
+<p>As the cowboy circled the herd, the moon, at first directly to his left,
+slowly dropped behind until its, as yet, dull light shone full upon his
+back. The beasts were quite quiet and the sense of responsibility which
+was his, in a measure, lessened.</p>
+
+<p>Some distance ahead, and near by where' he must pass, a clump of
+undergrowth and a few stunted trees grew round the base of a hillock and
+broken rocks. The cattle were reposing close up by this shelter. Nat's
+horse, as he drew near to the brush, was ambling along at that peculiar
+gait, half walk, half trot, essentially the pace of a &quot;cow-horse.&quot;
+Suddenly the animal came to a stand, for which there seemed no apparent
+reason. He stood for a second with ears cocked, sniffing at the night
+air in evident alarm. Then a prolonged, low whistle split the air. The
+sound came from the other side of the rocks, and, to the tenderfoot's
+ears, constituted a signal.</p>
+
+<p>The most natural thing for him to have done would have been to wait for
+further developments, if developments there were to be. However, he was
+a plucky youngster, in spite of his inexperience, and, besides,
+something of the derision of Jake Bond was still rankling in his mind.
+He knew the whistle to be the effort of some man, and his discovery of
+the individual would further prove the accuracy of his hearing, and he
+would then have the laugh of his companion. A more experienced hand
+would have first looked to his six-shooter and thought of cattle
+thieves, but, as Jake had said, he was a tenderfoot. Instead, without a
+moment's hesitation, he dashed his spurs into his broncho's flanks and
+swept round to the shadowed side of the rocks.</p>
+
+<p>He realized his folly when too late. The moment he entered the shade
+there came the slithering whirr of something cutting through the air.
+Something struck the horse's front legs, and the next moment he shot out
+of the saddle in response to a somersault which the broncho turned. His
+horse had been roped by one of his front legs. The cowboy lay where he
+fell, dazed and half stunned. Then he became aware of three dark faces
+bending over him. An instant later a gag was forced into his mouth, and
+he felt himself being bound hand and foot. Then the three faces silently
+disappeared, and all was quiet about him.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, on the rising ground, where the camp fire burned, all
+was calm slumber. The two old hands were taking their rest with healthy
+contentment and noisy assertion. The glory of the rising moon was lost
+to the slumberers, and no dread of coming disaster disturbed them. The
+stertorous blasts of their nostrils testified to this. The replenished
+fire slowly died down to a mass of white smoldering ashes, and the
+chill-growing air caused one of the sleepers to move restlessly in his
+sleep and draw his head down beneath his blanket for greater warmth.</p>
+
+<p>Up the slope came three figures. They were moving with cautious,
+stealthy step, the movement of men whose purpose is not open. On they
+came swiftly&mdash;silently. One man led; he was tall and swarthy with long
+black hair falling upon his shoulders in straight, coarse mass. He was
+evidently a half-breed, and his clothes denoted him to be of the poorer
+class&mdash;a class accustomed to live by preying upon its white neighbors.
+He was clad in a pair of moleskin trousers, which doubtless at one time
+had been white, but which now were of that nondescript hue which dirt
+conveys. His upper garments were a beaded buckskin shirt and a battered
+Stetson hat. Around his waist was a cartridge belt, on which was slung a
+holster containing a heavy six-chambered revolver and a long sheath
+knife.</p>
+
+<p>His companions were similarly equipped, and the three formed a wild
+picture of desperate resolve. Yard by yard they drew toward the
+sleepers, at each step listening for the loud indications of sleep which
+were made only too apparent upon the still night air. Now they were
+close upon the fire. One of the unconscious cow-boys, Jim Bowley,
+stirred. A moment passed. Then the intruders drew a step nearer.
+Suddenly Jim roused and then sat up. His action at once became a signal.
+There was a sound of swift footsteps, and the next instant the
+astonished man was gazing into the muzzle of a heavy pistol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hands up!&quot; cried the voice of the leading half-breed. One of his
+followers had similarly covered the half-awakened Jake.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word of remonstrance two pairs of hands went up. Astonishment
+had for the moment paralyzed speech on the part of the rudely awakened
+sleepers. They were only dimly conscious of their assailants. The
+compelling rings of metal that confronted them weighed the balance of
+their judgment, and their response was the instinctive response of the
+prairie. Whoever their assailants, they had got the drop on them. The
+result was the law of necessity.</p>
+
+<p>In depressing silence the assailants drew their captives' weapons. Then,
+after binding their arms, the leader bade them rise. His voice was harsh
+and his accent &quot;South-western&quot; American. Then he ordered them to march,
+the inexorable pistol ever present to enforce obedience. In silence the
+two men were conducted to the bush where the first capture had been
+made. And here they were firmly tied to separate trees with their own
+lariats.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar,&quot; said the tall half-breed, as the captives' feet were bound
+securely. &quot;There ain't goin' to be no shootin'. You're that sensible.
+You're jest goin' to remain right hyar till daylight, or mebbe later. A
+gag'll prevent your gassin'. You're right in the track of white men, so
+I guess you'll do. See hyar, bo', jest shut it,&quot; as Jim Bowley essayed
+to speak, &quot;cause my barker's itchin' to join in a conversation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The threat had a quieting effect upon poor Jim, who immediately closed
+his lips. Silent but watchful he eyed the half-breed's face. There was
+something very familiar about the thin cheeks, high cheek-bones, and
+about the great hooked nose. He was struggling hard to locate the man.
+At this moment the third ruffian approached with three horses. The other
+had been busy fixing a gag in Jake Bond's mouth. Jim Bowley saw the
+horses come up. And, in the now brilliant moonlight, he beheld and
+recognized a grand-looking golden chestnut. There was no mistaking that
+glorious beast. Jim was no tenderfoot; he had been on the prairie in
+this district for years. And although he had never come into actual
+contact with the man, he had seen him and knew about the exploits of the
+owner of that perfect animal.</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed approached him with an improvised gag. For the life of
+him Jim could not resist a temptation which at that moment assailed him.
+The threatening attitude of his captor for the instant had lost its
+effect. If he died for it he must blurt out his almost superstitious
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed seized his prisoner's lower jaw in his hand and
+compressed the cheeks upon the teeth. Jim's lips parted, and a horrified
+amazement found vent in words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Holy Gawd! man. But be ye flesh or sperrit? Peter Retief&mdash;as I'm a
+livin'&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He said no more, for, with a wrench, the gag was forced into his mouth
+by the relentless hand of the man before him. Although he was thus
+silenced his eyes remained wide open and staring. The dark stern face,
+as he saw it, was magnified into that of a fiend. The keen eyes and
+depressed brows, he thought, might belong to some devil re-incarnated,
+whilst the eagle-beaked nose and thin-compressed lips denoted, to his
+distorted fancy, a sanguinary cruelty. At the mention of his name this
+forbidding apparition flashed a vengeful look at the speaker, and a half
+smile of utter disdain flickered unnoticed around the corners of his
+mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Once his prisoners were secured the dark-visaged cattle-thief turned to
+the horses. At a word the trio mounted. Then they rode off, and the
+wretched captives beheld, to their unspeakable dismay, the consummate
+skill with which the cattle were roused and driven off. Away they went
+with reckless precipitance, the cattle obeying the master hand of the
+celebrated raider with an implicitness which seemed to indicate a
+strange sympathy between man and beast. The great golden chestnut raced
+backwards and forwards like some well-trained greyhound, heading the
+leading beasts into the desired direction without effort or apparent
+guidance. It was a grand display of the cowboy's art, and, in spite of
+his predicament and the cruel tightness of his bonds, Jim Bowley reveled
+in the sight of such a display.</p>
+
+<p>In five minutes the great herd was out of sight, and only the distant
+rumble of their speeding hoofs reached the captives. Later, the moon, no
+longer golden, but shedding a silvery radiance over all, shone down upon
+a peaceful plain. The night hum of insects was undisturbed. The mournful
+cry of the coyote echoed at intervals, but near by, where the camp fire
+no longer put the fear of man into the hearts of the scavengers of the
+prairie, all was still and calm. The prisoners moaned softly, but not
+loud enough to disturb the peace of the perfect night, as their cruel
+bonds gnawed at their patience. For the rest, the Western world had
+resumed its wonted air.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV" />CHAPTER XIV - THE HUE AND CRY</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;A thousand head of cattle, John! A thousand; and 'hustled' from under
+our very noses. By thunder! it is intolerable. Over thirty-five thousand
+dollars gone in one clean sweep. Why, I say, do we pay for the up-keep
+of the police if this sort of thing is allowed to go on? It is
+disgraceful. It means ruination to the country if a man cannot run his
+stock without fear of molestation. Who said that scoundrel Retief was
+dead&mdash;drowned in the great muskeg? It's all poppy-cock, I tell you; the
+man's as much alive as you or I. Thirty-five thousand dollars! By
+heavens!&mdash;it's&mdash;it's scandalous!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache leant forward heavily in his chair and rested his great arms
+upon John Allandale's desk. &quot;Poker&quot; John and he were seated in the
+former's office, whither the money-lender had come, post-haste, on
+receiving the news of the daring raid of the night before. The great
+man's voice was unusually thick with rage, and his asthmatical breathing
+came in great gusts as his passionate excitement grew under the lash of
+his own words. The old rancher gazed in stupefied amazement at the
+financier. He had not as yet fully realized the fact with which he had
+just been acquainted in terms of such sweeping passion. The old man's
+brain was none too clear in the mornings now. And the suddenness of the
+announcement had shocked his faculties into a state of chaos.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Terrible&mdash;terrible,&quot; was all he was able to murmur. Then, bracing
+himself, he asked weakly, &quot;But what are you to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The weather-beaten old face was working nervously. The eyes, in the
+past keen and direct in their glance, were bloodshot and troubled. He
+looked like a man who was fast breaking up. Very different from the
+night when we first met him at the Calford Polo Club ball. There could
+be no doubt as to the origin of this swift change. The whole atmosphere
+of the man spoke of drink.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache turned on him without any attempt to conceal the latent
+ferocity of his nature. The heavy, pouchy jowl was scarlet with his
+rage. The money-lender had been flicked upon a very raw and tender spot.
+Money was his god.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What am I to do?&quot; he retorted savagely. &quot;What are <i>we</i> to do? What is
+all the ranching world of Alberta to do? Why, fight, man. Hound this
+scoundrel to his lair. Follow him&mdash;track him. Hunt him from bush to bush
+until we fall upon him and tear him limb from limb. Are we going to sit
+still while he terrorizes the whole country? While he 'hustles' every
+head of stock from us, and&mdash;and spirits it away? No, if we spend
+fortunes upon his capture we must not rest until he swings from a gibbet
+at the end of his own lariat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, of course&mdash;of course,&quot; the rancher responded, his cheek twitching
+weakly. &quot;You are quite right, we must hunt this scoundrel down. But we
+know what has gone before&mdash;I mean, before he was supposed to have died.
+The man could never be traced. He seemed to vanish into thin air. What
+do you propose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, but that was two years ago,&quot; said Lablache, moodily. &quot;Things may
+be different now. A thousand head of cattle does not vanish so easily.
+There is bound to be some trace left behind. And then, the villain has
+only got a short start of us. I sent a messenger over to Stormy Cloud
+Settlement the first thing this morning. A sergeant and four men will be
+sent to work up the case. I expect them here at any moment. As justices
+of the peace it devolves on both of us to set an example to the
+settlers, and we shall then receive hearty co-operation. You understand,
+John,&quot; the money-lender went on, with pompous assertiveness, &quot;although,
+at present, I am the chief sufferer by this scoundrel's depredations, it
+is plainly your duty as much as mine to take this matter up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The first rough storm of Lablache's passion had passed. He was &quot;yanking&quot;
+himself up to the proper attitude for the business in hand. Although he
+had calmed considerably his lashless eyes gleamed viciously, and his
+flabby face wore an expression which boded ill for the object of his
+rage, should that unfortunate ever come within the range of his power.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was struggling hard to bring a once keen intellect to bear
+upon the affair. He had listened to the money-lender's account of the
+raid with an almost doubtful understanding, the chief shock to which was
+the re-appearance of the supposed dead Retief, that prince of
+&quot;hustlers,&quot; who, two years ago, had terrorized the neighborhood by his
+impudent raids. At last his mind seemed to clear and he stood up. And,
+bending across the desk as though to emphasize his words, he showed
+something of the old spirit which had, in days gone by, made him a
+successful rancher.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't believe it, Lablache. This is some damned yarn to cover the
+real culprit. Why, man, Peter Retief is buried deep in that reeking keg,
+and no slapsided galoot's goin' to pitch such a crazy notion as his
+resurrection down my throat. Retief? Why, I'd as lief hear that Satan
+himself was abroad duffing cattle. Bah! Where's the 'hand' that's gulled
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache eyed the old man curiously. He was not sure that there might
+not be some truth in the rancher's forcible skepticism. For the moment
+the old man's words carried some weight, then, as he remembered the
+unvarnished tale the cowboy had told, he returned to his conviction. He
+shook his massive head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No one has gulled me, John. You shall hear the story for yourself as
+soon as the police arrive. You will the better be able to judge of the
+fellow's sincerity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the sound of horses' hoofs came in through the open
+window. Lablache glanced out on to the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, here he is, and I'm glad to see they've sent Sergeant Horrocks. The
+very man for the work. Good,&quot; and he rubbed his fat hands together.
+&quot;Horrocks is a great prairie man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John rose and went out to meet the officer. Later he conducted
+him into the office. Sergeant Horrocks was a man of medium height,
+slightly built, but with an air of cat-like agility about him. He was
+very bronzed, with a sharp, rather than a clever face. His eyes were
+black and restless, and a thin mouth, hidden beneath a trim black
+mustache, and a perfectly-shaped aquiline nose, completed the sum of any
+features which might be called distinctive. He was a man who was
+thoroughly adapted to his work&mdash;work which needed a cool head and quick
+eye rather than great mental attainments. He was dressed in a brown
+canvas tunic with brass buttons, and his riding breeches were concealed
+in, a pair of well-worn leather &quot;chaps.&quot; A Stetson hat worn at the exact
+angle on his head, with his official &quot;side arms&quot; secured round his
+waist, completed a very picturesque appearance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Morning, Horrocks,&quot; said the money-lender. &quot;This is a pretty business
+you've come down on. Left your men down in the settlement, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. I thought I'd come and hear the rights of the matter straight
+away. According to your message you are the chief victim of this
+'duffing' business?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Exactly,&quot; replied Lablache, with a return to his tone of anger, &quot;one
+thousand head of beeves! Thirty-five thousand dollars' worth!&quot; Then he
+went on more calmly: &quot;But wait a moment, we'll send down for the 'hand'
+that brought in the news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A servant was despatched, and a few minutes later Jim Bowley entered.
+Jacky, returning from the corrals, entered at the same time. Directly
+she had seen the police horse outside she knew what was happening. When
+she appeared Lablache endeavored to conceal a look of annoyance.
+Sergeant Horrocks raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was not accustomed
+to petticoats being present at his councils. John, however, without
+motive, waived all chance of objection by anticipating his guests.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sergeant, this is my niece, Jacky. Affairs of the prairie affect her as
+nearly as they do myself. Let us hear what this man has to tell us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks half bowed to the girl, touching the brim of his hat with a
+semi-military salute. Acquiescence to her presence was thus forced upon
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky looked radiant in spite of the uncouthness of her riding attire.
+The fresh morning air was the tonic she loved, and, as yet, the day was
+too young for the tired shadows to have crept into her beautiful face.
+Horrocks, in spite of his tacit objection, was forced to admire the
+sturdy young face of this child of the prairie.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Bowley plunged into his story with a directness and simplicity which
+did not fail to carry conviction. He told all he knew without any
+attempt at shielding himself or his companions. Horrocks and the old
+rancher listened carefully to the story. Lablache looked for
+discrepancies but found none. Jacky, whilst paying every attention,
+keenly watched the face of the money-lender. The seriousness of the
+affair was reflected in all the faces present, whilst the daring of the
+raid was acknowledged by the upraised brows and wondering ejaculations
+which occasionally escaped the police-officer and &quot;Poker&quot; John. When the
+narrative came to a close there followed an impressive pause. Horrocks
+was the first to break it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And how did you obtain your release?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A Mennonite family, which had bin travelin' all night, came along 'bout
+an hour after daylight. They pitched camp nigh on to a quarter mile from
+the bluff w'ere we was tied up. Then they came right along to look fur
+kindlin'. There wasn't no other bluff for half a mile but ours. They
+found us all three. Young Nat 'ad got 'is collar-bone broke. Them
+'ustlers 'adn't lifted our 'plugs' so I jest came right in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you seen these Mennonites?&quot; asked the officer, turning sharply to
+the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not yet,&quot; was the heavy rejoinder. &quot;But they are coming in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The significance of the question and the reply nettled the cowboy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar, mister, I ain't no coyote come in to pitch yarns. Wot I've
+said is gospel. The man as 'eld us up was Peter Retief as sure as I'm a
+living man. Sperrits don't walk about the prairie 'ustling cattle, an' I
+guess 'is 'and was an a'mighty solid one, as my jaw felt when 'e gagged
+me. You take it from me, 'e's come around agin to make up fur lost time,
+an' I guess 'e's made a tidy haul to start with.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, we'll allow that this man is the hustler you speak of,&quot; went on
+Horrocks, bending his keen eyes severely on the unfortunate cowboy.
+&quot;Now, what about tracking the cattle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I didn't wait fur that, but it'll be easy 'nough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, and you didn't recognize the man until you'd seen his horse?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The officer spoke sharply, like a counsel cross-examining a witness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wal, I can't say like that,&quot; said Jim, hesitating for the first time.
+&quot;His looks was familiar, I 'lows. No, without knowing of it I'd
+recognized 'im, but 'is name didn't come along till I see that beast,
+Golden Eagle. I 'lows a good prairie hand don't make no mistake over
+cattle like that. 'E may misgive a face, but a beastie&mdash;no, siree.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you base your recognition of the man on the identity of his horse. A
+doubtful assertion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thar ain't no doubt in my mind, sergeant. Ef you'll 'ave it so, I
+did&mdash;some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The officer turned to the other men.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If there's nothing more you want this man for, gentlemen, I have quite
+finished with him&mdash;for the present. With your permission,&quot; pulling out
+his watch, &quot;I'll get him to take me to the er&mdash;scene of disaster in an
+hour's time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two men nodded and Lablache conveyed the necessary order to the man,
+who then withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Bowley had left the room three pairs of eyes were turned
+inquiringly upon the officer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; questioned Lablache, with some show of eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks shrugged a pair of expressive shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;From his point of view the man speaks the truth,&quot; he replied
+decisively. &quot;And,&quot; he went on, more to himself than to the others, &quot;we
+never had any clear proof that the scoundrel, Retief, came to grief.
+From what I remember things were very hot for him at the time of his
+disappearance. Maybe the man's right. However,&quot; turning to the others,
+&quot;I should not be surprised if Mr. Retief has overreached himself this
+time. A thousand head of cattle cannot easily be hidden, or, for that
+matter, disposed of. Neither can they travel fast; and as for tracking,
+well,&quot; with a shrug, &quot;in this case it should be child's play.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope it will prove as you anticipate,&quot; put in John Allandale,
+concisely. &quot;What you suggest has been experienced by us before. However,
+the matter, I feel sure, is in capable hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The officer acknowledged the compliment mechanically. He was thinking
+deeply. Lablache struggled to his feet, and, supporting his bulk with
+one hand resting upon the desk, gasped out his final words upon the
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I want you to remember, sergeant, this matter not only affects me
+personally but also in my capacity as a justice of the peace. To
+whatever reward I am able to make in the name of H.M. Government I shall
+add the sum of one thousand dollars for the recovery of the cattle, and
+the additional sum of one thousand dollars for the capture of the
+miscreant himself. I have determined to spare no expense in the matter
+of hunting this devil,&quot; with vindictive intensity, &quot;down, therefore you
+can draw on me for all outlay your work may entail. All I say is,
+capture him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall do my best, Mr. Lablache,&quot; Horrocks replied simply. &quot;And now,
+if you will permit me, I will go down to the settlement to give a few
+orders to my men. Good-morning&mdash;er&mdash;Miss Allandale; good day, gentlemen.
+You will hear from me to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The officer left in all the pride of his official capacity. And possibly
+his pride was not without reason, for many and smart were the captures
+of evil-doers he had made during his career as a keeper of the peace.
+But we have been told that &quot;pride goeth before a fall.&quot; His estimation
+of a &quot;hustler&quot; was not an exalted one. He was accustomed to dealing with
+men who shoot quick and straight&mdash;&quot;bad men&quot; in fact&mdash;and he was equally
+quick with the gun, and a dead shot himself. Possibly he was a shade
+quicker and a trifle more deadly than the smartest &quot;bad man&quot; known, but
+now he was dealing with a man of all these necessary attainments and
+whose resourcefulness and cleverness were far greater than his own.
+Sergeant Horrocks had a harder road to travel than he anticipated.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache took his departure shortly afterwards, and &quot;Poker&quot; John and his
+niece were left in sole possession of the office at the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked thoroughly wearied with the mental effort the
+interview had entailed upon him. And Jacky, watching him, could not help
+noticing how old her uncle looked. She had been a silent observer in the
+foregoing scene, her presence almost ignored by the other actors. Now,
+however, that they were left alone, the old man turned a look of
+appealing helplessness upon her. Such was the rancher's faith in this
+wild, impetuous girl that he looked for her judgment on what had passed
+in that room with the ready faith of one who regards her as almost
+infallible, where human intellect is needed. Nor was the girl, herself,
+slow to respond to his mute inquiry. The swiftness of her answer
+enhanced the tone of her conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Set a thief to catch a thief, Uncle John. I guess Horrocks, in spite of
+his shifty black eyes, isn't the man for the business. He might track
+the slimmest neche that ever crossed the back of a choyeuse. Lablache is
+the man Retief has to fear. That uncrowned monarch of Foss River is
+subtle, and subtlety alone will serve. Horrocks?&quot; with fine disdain.
+&quot;Say, you can't shoot snipe with a pea-shooter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so,&quot; replied John, with weary thoughtlessness. &quot;Do you know,
+child, I can't help feeling a strange satisfaction that this Retief's
+victim is Lablache. But there, one never knows, when such a man is
+about, who will be the next to suffer. I suppose we must take our chance
+and trust to the protection of the police.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl had walked to the window and now stood framed in the casement
+of it. She turned her face back towards the old man as he finished
+speaking, and a quiet little smile hovered round the corners of her
+fresh ripe lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't think Retief will bother us any&mdash;at least, he never did before.
+Somehow I don't think he's an ordinary rascal.&quot; She turned back to the
+window. &quot;Hulloa, I guess Bill's coming right along up the avenue.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A moment later &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, lazily cheerful as was his wont, stepped in
+through the open French window. The selling up of his ranch seemed to
+have made little difference to his philosophical temperament. In his
+appearance, perhaps, for now he no longer wore the orthodox dress of the
+rancher. He was clad in a tweed lounging suit, and a pair of
+well-polished, brown leather boots. His headgear alone pertained to the
+prairie. It was a Stetson hat. He was smoking a cigarette as he came up,
+but he threw the insidious weed from him as he entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Morning, John. How are you, Jacky? I needn't ask you if you have heard
+the news. I saw Sergeant Horrocks and old Shylock leaving your veranda.
+Hot lot&mdash;isn't it? And all Lablache's cattle, too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A look of deep concern was on his keen face. Lablache might have been
+his dearest friend. Jacky smiled over at him. &quot;Poker&quot; John looked
+pained.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you're right, Bill,&quot; said the rancher. &quot;Hot&mdash;very hot. I pity the
+poor devil if Lablache lays a hand on him. Excuse me, boy, I'm going
+down to the barn. We've got a couple of ponies we're breaking to
+harness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man departed. The others watched the burly figure as he passed
+out of the door. His whole personality seemed shrunken of late. The old
+robustness seemed a thing of the past. The last two months seemed to
+have put ten years of ageing upon the kindly old man. Jacky sighed as
+the door closed behind him, and there was no smile in her eyes as she
+turned again to her lover. Bill's face had become serious.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; in a tone of almost painful anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>The girl had started forward and was leaning with her two brown hands
+upon the back of a chair. Her face was pale beneath her tan, and her
+eyes were bright with excitement. For answer, Bunning-Ford stepped to
+the French window and closed it, having first glanced up and down the
+veranda to see that it was empty. Not a soul was in sight. The tall
+pines, which lined the approach to the house, waved silently in the
+light breeze. The clear sky was gloriously blue. On everything was the
+peace of summer.</p>
+
+<p>The man swung round and came towards the girl. His eagle face was lit up
+by an expression of triumph. He held out his two hands, and the girl
+placed her own brown ones in them. He drew her towards him and embraced
+her in silence. Then he moved a little away from her. His gleaming eyes
+indexed the activity of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The cattle are safe&mdash;as houses. It was a grand piece of work, dear.
+They would never have faced the path without your help. Say, girlie, I'm
+an infant at handling stock compared with you. Now&mdash;what news?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was smiling tenderly into the strong face of the man. She could
+not help but wonder at the reckless daring of this man, who so many set
+down as a lazy good-for-nothing. She knew&mdash;she had always known, she
+fancied&mdash;the strong character which underlay that indolent exterior. It
+never appealed to her to regret the chance that had driven him to use
+his abilities in such a cause. There was too much of the wild half-breed
+blood in her veins to allow her to stop to consider the
+might-have-beens. She gloried in his daring, and something of the spirit
+which had caused her to help her half-brother now forced from her an
+almost worshiping adoration for her lover.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Horrocks is to spare no expense in tracking&mdash;Retief&mdash;down.&quot; She laughed
+silently. &quot;Lablache is to pay. They are going over the old ground again,
+I guess. The tracks of the cattle. Horrocks is not to be feared. We must
+watch Lablache. He will act. Horrocks will only be his puppet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill pondered before he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; he said thoughtfully at last, &quot;that is the best of news. The very
+best. Horrocks can track. He is one of the best at that game. But I have
+taken every precaution. Tracking is useless&mdash;waste of time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know that from past experience, Bill. Now that the campaign has
+begun, what is the next move?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl was all eagerness. Her beautiful dark face was no longer pale.
+It was aglow with the enthusiasm of her feelings. Her deep, meaning eyes
+burned with a consuming brilliancy. Framed in its setting of curling,
+raven hair, her face would have rejoiced the heart of the old masters of
+the Van Dyke school. She was wondrously beautiful. Bill gazed upon her
+features with devouring eyes, and thoughts of the wrongs committed by
+Lablache against her and hers teemed through his brain and set his blood
+surging through his veins in a manner that threatened to overbalance his
+usual cool judgment. He forced himself to an outward calmness, however,
+and the lazy tones of his voice remained as easy as ever.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On the result of the next move much will depend,&quot; he said. &quot;It is to be
+a terrific <i>coup</i>, and will entail careful planning. It is fortunate
+that the people at the half-breed camp are the friends of&mdash;of&mdash;Retief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and of mine,&quot; put in the girl. Then she added slowly, and as
+though with painful thought, &quot;Say, Bill, be&mdash;be careful. I guess you are
+all I have in the world&mdash;you and uncle. Do you know, I've kind of seen
+to the end of this racket. Maybe there's trouble coming. Who's to be
+lagged I can't say. There are shadows around, Bill; the place fairly
+hums with 'em. Say, don't&mdash;don't give Lablache a slant at you. I can't
+spare you, Bill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tall thin figure of her companion stepped over towards her, and she
+felt herself encircled by his long powerful arms. Then he bent down from
+his great height and kissed her passionately upon the lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Take comfort, little girl. This is a war, if necessary, to the death.
+Should anything happen to me, you may be sure that I leave you freed
+from the snares of old Shylock. Yes, I will be careful, Jacky. We are
+playing for a heavy stake. You may trust me.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV" />CHAPTER XV - AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lablache was not a man of variable moods. He was too strong; his purpose
+in life was too strong for any vacillation of temper. His one aim&mdash;his
+whole soul&mdash;was wrapt in a craving for money-making and the inevitable
+power which the accumulation of great wealth must give him. In all his
+dealings he was perfectly&mdash;at least outwardly&mdash;calm, and he never
+allowed access to anger to thwart his ends. An inexorable purpose
+governed his actions to an extent which, while his feelings might
+undergo paroxysms of acute changes, never permitted him to make a false
+move or to show his hand prematurely. But this latest reverse had upset
+him more than he had ever been upset in his life, and all the great
+latent force of his character had suddenly, as it were, been
+precipitated into a torrent of ungovernable fury. He had been wounded
+deeply in the most vulnerable spot in his composition. Thirty-five
+thousands of his precious dollars ruthlessly torn from his capacious and
+retentive money-bags. Truly it was a cruel blow, and one well calculated
+to disturb the even tenor of his complacency.</p>
+
+<p>Thought was very busy within that massive head as he lumped heavily
+along from John Allandale's house in the direction of his own store.
+Some slight satisfaction was his at the reflection of the prompt
+assistance he had obtained from the police. It was the satisfaction of a
+man who lived by the assistance of the law, of a man who, in his own
+inordinate arrogance, considered that the law was made for such as he,
+to the detriment of those who attempt to thwart the rich man's purpose.
+He knew Horrocks to be capable, and although he did not place too much
+reliance on that astute prairie-man's judgment&mdash;he always believed in
+his own judgment first&mdash;still, he knew that he could not have obtained
+better assistance, and was therefore as content as circumstances would
+permit. That he was sanguine of recovering his property was doubtful.
+Lablache never permitted himself the luxury of optimism. He set himself
+a task and worked steadily on to the required end. So he had decided
+now. He did not permit himself to dwell on the desired result, or to
+anticipate. He would simply leave no stone unturned to bring about the
+recovery of his stolen property.</p>
+
+<p>He moved ponderously along over the smooth dusty road, and at last
+reached the market-place. The settlement was drowsily quiet. Life of a
+sort was apparent but it was chiefly &quot;animal.&quot; The usual number of dogs
+were moving about, or peacefully basking in the sun; a few saddle horses
+were standing with dejected air, hitched to various tying-posts. A
+buckboard and team was standing outside his own door. The sound of the
+smith's hammer falling upon the anvil sounded plaintively upon the
+calmness of the sleepy village. In spite of the sensational raid of the
+night before, Foss River displayed no unusual activity.</p>
+
+<p>At length the great man reached his office, and threw himself, with
+great danger to his furniture, into his capacious wicker chair. He was
+in no mood for business. Instead he gazed long and thoughtfully out of
+his office window. What somber, vengeful thoughts were teeming through
+his brain would be hard to tell, his mask-like face betrayed nothing.
+His sphinx-like expression was a blank.</p>
+
+<p>In this way half an hour and more passed. Then his attention became
+fixed upon a tall figure sauntering slowly towards the settlement from
+the direction of Allandale's ranch. In a moment Lablache had stirred
+himself, and a pair of field-glasses were leveled at the unconscious
+pedestrian. A moment later an exclamation of annoyance broke from the
+money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Curse the man! Am I never to be rid of this damned Englishman?&quot; He
+stood now gazing malevolently at the tall figure of the Hon.
+Bunning-Ford, who was leisurely making his way towards the village. For
+the time being the channel of Lablache's thoughts had changed its
+direction. He had hoped, in foreclosing his mortgages on the
+Englishman's property, to have rid Foss River of the latter's, to him,
+hateful presence. But since misfortune had come upon &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, the
+Allandales and he had become closer friends than ever. This effort had
+been one of the money-lender's few failures, and failure galled him with
+a bitterness the recollection of which no success could eliminate. The
+result was a greater hatred for the object of his vengeance, and a
+lasting determination to rid Foss River of the Englishman forever. And
+so he remained standing and watching until, at length, the entrance of
+one of his clerks, to announce that the saloon dinner-time was at hand,
+brought him out of his cruel reverie, and he set off in quest of the
+needs of his inner man, a duty which nothing, of whatever importance,
+was allowed to interfere with.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, Horrocks, or, as he was better known amongst his
+comrades, &quot;the Ferret,&quot; was hot upon the trail of the lost cattle.
+Horrocks bristled with energy at every point, and his men, working with
+him, had reason to be aware of the fact. It was an old saying amongst
+them that when &quot;the Ferret&quot; was let loose there was no chance of bits
+rusting. In other words, his mileage report to his chiefs would be a
+long one.</p>
+
+<p>As the sergeant anticipated, it was child's play to track the stolen
+herd. The tracks left by the fast-driven cattle was apparent to the
+veriest greenhorn, and Horrocks and his men were anything but
+greenhorns.</p>
+
+<p>Long before evening closed in they had followed the footprints right
+down to the edge of the great muskeg, and already Horrocks anticipated a
+smart capture. But his task seemed easier than it really was. On the
+brink of the keg the tracks became confused. With some difficulty the
+sleuth instincts of these accomplished trackers led them to follow the
+marks for a mile and a half along the edge of the mire, then, it seemed,
+the herd had been turned and driven with great speed back on their
+tracks. But worse confusion became apparent; and &quot;the Ferret&quot; soon
+realized that the herd had been driven up and down along the border of
+the great keg with a view to evading further pursuit. So frequently had
+this been done that it was impossible to further trace the stock, and
+the sun was already sinking when Horrocks dismounted, and with him his
+men were at last forced to acknowledge defeat.</p>
+
+<p>He had come to a standstill with a stretch of a mile and a half of
+cattle tracks before him. There was no sign further than this of where
+the beasts had been driven. The keg itself gave no clew. It was as green
+and trackless as ever, and again on the land side there was not a single
+foot-print beyond the confused marks along the quagmire's dangerous
+border.</p>
+
+<p>The work of covering retreat had been carried out by a master hand, and
+Horrocks was not slow to acknowledge the cleverness of the raider. With
+all one good prairie man's appreciation for another he detected a foeman
+worthy of his steel, and he warmed to the problem set out before him.
+The troopers waited for their superior's instructions. As &quot;the Ferret&quot;
+did not speak one of the men commented aloud.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Smart work, sergeant,&quot; he said quietly. &quot;I'm not surprised that this
+fellow rode roughshod over the district for so long and escaped all who
+were sent to nab him. He's clever, is P. Retief, Esq.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks was looking out across the great keg. Strangely enough they had
+halted within twenty yards of the willow bush, at which point the secret
+path across the mire began. The man with the gold chevrons upon his arm
+ignored the remark of his companion, but answered with words which
+occurred in his own train of thought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's plain enough, I guess. Yonder is the direction taken by the
+cattle,&quot; he said, nodding his head towards the distant peaks of the
+mountains beyond. &quot;But who's got the nerve to follow 'em? Say,&quot; he went
+on sharply, &quot;somewhere along this bank, I mean in the mile and a half of
+hoof marks, there's a path turns out, or, at least, firm ground by which
+it is possible to cross this devil's keg. It must be so. Cattle can't be
+spirited away. Unless, of course&mdash;but no, a man don't duff cattle to
+drown 'em in a swamp. They've crossed this pernicious mire, boys. We may
+nab our friend, Retief, but we'll never clap eyes on those beasts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's the same old business over again, sergeant,&quot; said one of the
+troopers. &quot;I was on this job before, and I reckon we landed hereabouts
+every time we lit on Retief's trail. But we never got no further. Yonder
+keg is a mighty hard nut to crack. I guess the half-breed's got the
+bulge on us. If path across the mire there is he knows it and we don't,
+and, as you say, who's goin' to follow him?&quot; Having delivered himself of
+these sage remarks he stepped to the brink of the mire and put his foot
+heavily upon its surface. His top-boot sank quickly through the yielding
+crust, and the black subsoil rose with oily, sucking action, 'and his
+foot was immediately buried out of sight. He drew it out sharply, a
+shudder of horror quickening his action. Strong man and hardy as he was,
+the muskeg inspired him with a superstitious terror. &quot;Guess there ain't
+no following them beasties through that, sergeant. Leastways, not for
+me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks had watched his subordinate's action thoughtfully. He knew,
+without showing, that no man or beast could attempt to cross the mire
+with any hope of success without the knowledge of some secret path. That
+such a path, or paths, existed he believed, for many were the stories of
+how criminals in past days escaped prairie law by such means. However,
+he had no knowledge of any such paths himself, and he had no intention
+of sacrificing his life uselessly in an attempt to discover the keg's
+most jealously guarded secret.</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to his horse and prepared to vault into the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's no use, boys. We are done for to-day. You can ride back to the
+settlement. I have another little matter on hand. If any of you see
+Lablache just tell him I shall join him in about two hours' time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks rode off and his four troopers headed towards the Foss River.</p>
+
+<p>Despite the fact that his horse had been under the saddle for nearly
+eight hours Horrocks rode at a great pace. He was one of those men who
+are always to be found on the prairie&mdash;thorough horsemen. Men who, in
+times of leisure, care more for their horses than they do for
+themselves; men who regard their horses as they would a comrade, but
+who, when it becomes a necessity to work or travel, demand every effort
+the animal can make by way of return for the care which has been
+lavished upon it. Such men generally find themselves well repaid. A
+horse is something more than a creature with four legs, one at each
+corner, head out of one end, tail out of the other. There is an old
+saying in the West to the effect that a thorough horseman is worthy of
+man's esteem. The opinion amongst prairie men is that a man who loves
+his horse can never be wholly bad. And possibly we can accept this
+decision upon the subject without question, for their experience in men,
+especially in &quot;bad men,&quot; is wide and varied.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks avoided the settlement, leaving it well to the west, and turned
+his willing beast in the direction of the half-breed camp. There was an
+ex-Government scout living in this camp whom he knew; a man who was
+willing to sell to his late employers any information he chanced to
+possess. It was the officer's intention to see this man and purchase all
+he had to sell, if it happened to be worth buying. Hence his visit to
+the camp.</p>
+
+<p>The evening shadows were fast lengthening when he espied in the distance
+the squalid shacks and dilapidated teepees of the Breeds. There was a
+large colony of those wanderers of the West gathered together in the
+Foss River camp. We have said that these places are hot-beds of crime, a
+curse to the country; but that description scarcely conveys the wretched
+poverty and filthiness of these motley gatherings. From a slight rising
+ground Horrocks looked down on what might have, at first sight, been
+taken for a small village. A scattering of small tumbled-down shacks,
+about fifty in number, set out on the fresh green of the prairie,
+created the first blot of uncleanly, uncouth habitation upon the view.
+Add to these a proportionate number of ragged tents and teepees, a crowd
+of unwashed, and, for the most part, undressed children, a hundred
+fierce and half-starved dogs of the &quot;husky&quot; type. Imagine a stench of
+dung fire cooking, and the gathering of millions of mosquitoes about a
+few choyeuses and fat cattle grazing near by, and the picture as it
+first presents itself is complete.</p>
+
+<p>The approach to such a place makes one almost wish the undulating
+prairie was not quite so fair a picture, for the contrast with man's
+filthy squalor is so great that the feeling of nauseation which results
+is almost overpowering. Horrocks, however, was used to such scenes. His
+duty often took him into worse Breed camps than this. He treated such
+places to a perfectly callous indifference, and regarded them merely as
+necessary evils.</p>
+
+<p>At the first shack he drew up and instantly became the center of
+attention from a pack of yelping dogs and a number of half-fearful,
+wide-eyed ragamuffins, grimy children nearly naked and ranging in age
+from two years up to twelve. Young as the latter were they were an
+evil-looking collection. The noisy greeting of the camp dogs had aroused
+the elders from their indolent repose within the shacks, and Horrocks
+quickly became aware of a furtive spying within the darkened doorways
+and paneless windows.</p>
+
+<p>The reception was nothing unusual to the officer. The Breeds he knew
+always fought shy of the police. As a rule, such a visit as the present
+portended an arrest, and they were never quite sure who the victim was
+to be and the possible consequences. Crime was so common amongst these
+people that in nearly every family it was possible to find one or more
+law-breakers and, more often than not, the delinquent was liable to
+capital punishment.</p>
+
+<p>Ignoring his cool reception, Horrocks hitched his horse to a tree and
+stepped up to the shack, regardless of the vicious snapping of the dogs.
+The children fled precipitately at his approach. At the door of the
+house he halted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hallo there, within!&quot; he called.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's pause, and he heard a whispered debate going on in
+the shadowy interior.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hey!&quot; he called again. &quot;Get a hustle on, some of you. Get out,&quot; he
+snapped sharply, as a great husky, with bristling hair, came snuffing at
+his legs. He aimed a kick at the dog, which, in response, sullenly
+retreated to a safe distance.</p>
+
+<p>The angry tone of his second summons had its effect, and a figure moved
+cautiously within and finally approached the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh! what is it?&quot; asked a deep, guttural voice, and a bulky form framed
+itself in the opening.</p>
+
+<p>The police-officer eyed the man keenly. The twilight had so far deepened
+that there was barely sufficient light to distinguish the man's
+features, but Horrocks's survey satisfied him as to the fellow's
+identity. He was a repulsive specimen of the Breed; the dark, lowering
+face had something utterly cruel in its expression. The cast was brutal
+in the extreme; sensual, criminal. The shifty black eyes looked anywhere
+but into the policeman's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That you, Gustave?&quot; said Horrocks, pleasantly enough. He wished to
+inspire confidence. &quot;I'm looking for Gautier. I've got a nice little job
+for him. Do you know where he is?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ugh!&quot; grunted Gustave, heavily, but with a decided air of relief. He
+entertained a wholesome dread of Sergeant Horrocks. Now he became more
+communicative. Horrocks had not come to arrest anybody. &quot;I see,&quot; he went
+on, gazing out across the prairie, &quot;this is not a warrant business, eh?
+Guess Gautier is back there,&quot; with a jerk of a thumb in a vague
+direction behind him. &quot;He's in his shack. Gautier's just hooked up with
+another squaw.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Another?&quot; Horrocks whistled softly. &quot;Why, that's the sixth to my
+knowledge. He's very much a marrying man. How much did he pay the neche
+this time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two steers and a sheep,&quot; said the man, with an oily grin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! I wonder how he acquired 'em. Well, I'll go and find him. Gautier
+is smart, but he'll land himself in the penitentiary if he goes on
+marrying squaws at that price. Say, which is his shack did you say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Back thar. You'll see it. He's just limed the outside of it. Guess
+white's the color his new squaw fancies most. S'long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man was glad to be rid of his visitor. In spite of the sergeant's
+assurance, Gustave never felt comfortable in the officer's presence.
+Horrocks moved off in search of the white hut, while the Breed, with
+furtive eyes, watched his progress.</p>
+
+<p>There was no difficulty in locating the shack in that colony of grime.
+Even in the darkness the gleaming white of the ex-spy's abode stood out
+prominently. The dogs and children now tacitly acknowledged the right of
+the police-officer's presence in their camp, and allowed him to move
+about apparently unnoticed. He wound his way amongst the huts and tents,
+ever watchful and alert, always aiming for Gautier's hut. He knew that
+in this place at night his life was not worth much. A quick aim, and a
+shot from behind, and no one would ever know who had dropped him. But
+the Canadian police are accustomed to take desperate chances in their
+work, and think less of it than do our police patrols in the slums of
+London.</p>
+
+<p>He found Gautier sitting at his hut door waiting for him. Another might
+have been surprised at the Breed's cognizance of the police-officer's
+intentions, but Horrocks knew the habits of these people, and was fully
+alive to the fact that while he had been talking to Gustave a messenger
+was dispatched to warn Gautier that he was sought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, sergeant, what's your best news?&quot; Gautier asked civilly. He was a
+bright, intelligent-looking, dusky man, of perhaps forty years. His face
+was less brutal than that of the other Breed, but it was none the less
+cunning. He was short and massively built.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's just what I've come to ask you, Gautier. I think you can tell me
+all I want to know&mdash;if you've a notion to. Say,&quot; with a keen look round,
+&quot;can we talk here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was not a soul visible but an occasional playing child. It was
+curious how quiet the camp became. Horrocks was not deceived, however.
+He knew that a hundred pairs of eyes were watching him from the reeking
+recesses of the huts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No talk here.&quot; Gautier was serious, and his words conveyed a lot. &quot;It's
+bad medicine your coming to-night. But there,&quot; with a return to his
+cunning look, &quot;I don't know that I've got anything to tell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes, I know. You needn't be afraid.&quot; Then lowering his voice:
+&quot;I've got a roll of bills in my pocket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, then don't stay here talking. There's lots to tell, but they'd kill
+me if they suspected. Where can I see you&mdash;quiet-like? They won't lose
+sight of me if they can help it, but I reckon I'm good for the best of
+'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man's attempt to look sincere was almost ludicrous. His cunning eyes
+twinkled with cupidity. Horrocks kept his voice down.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right. I shall be at Lablache's store in an hour's time. You must see
+me to-night.&quot; Then aloud, for the benefit of listening ears, &quot;You be
+careful what you are doing. This promiscuous buying of wives, with
+cattle which you may have difficulty in accounting for your possession
+of, will lead you into trouble. Mind, I've warned you. Just look to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His last sentences were called out as he moved away, and Gautier quite
+understood.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks did not return the way he had come, but took a circuitous
+route through the camp. He was a man who never lost a chance in his
+work, and now, while he was in the midst of that criminal haunt, he
+thought it as well to take a look round. He hardly knew what he expected
+to find out&mdash;if anything. But he required information of Retief, and he
+was fully alive to the fact that all that individual's movements would
+be known here. He trusted to luck to help him to discover something.</p>
+
+<p>The smartest of men have to work against overwhelming odds in the
+detection of crime. Many and devious are the ways of men whose hand is
+against the law. Surely is the best detective a mere babe in the hands
+of a clever criminal. In this instance the very thing that Horrocks was
+in search of was about to be forced upon him. For underlying that
+information was a deep-laid scheme.</p>
+
+<p>Never can reliance be placed in a true half-breed. The heathen Chinee is
+the ideal of truth and honesty when his wiles are compared with the dark
+ways of the Breed. Horrocks, with all his experience, was no match for
+the dusky-visaged outcast of the plains. Gautier had been deputied to
+convey certain information to Lablache by the patriarchs of the camp.
+And with his native cunning he had decided, on the appearance of
+Sergeant Horrocks, to extort a price for that which it was his duty to
+tell. Besides this, as matters had turned out, Horrocks was to receive
+gratis that for which he would shortly pay Gautier.</p>
+
+<p>He had made an almost complete circuit of the camp. Accustomed as he was
+to such places, the stench of it almost made him sick. He came to a
+stand close beside one of the outlying teepees. He was just preparing to
+fill his pipe and indulge in a sort of disinfecting smoke when he became
+aware of voices talking loudly close by. The sound proceeded from the
+teepees. From force of habit he listened. The tones were gruff, and
+almost Indian-like in the brevity of expression. The language was the
+bastard jargon of the French half-breed. For a moment he was doubtful.
+Then his attention became riveted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said one voice, &quot;he is a good man, is Peter. When he has plenty
+he spends it. He does not rob the poor Breed. Only the gross white man.
+Peter is clever. Very.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then another voice, deep-toned and full, took up the eulogy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter knows how to spend his money. He spends it among his friends. It
+is good. How much whisky will he buy, think you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Another voice chipped in at this point, and Horrocks strained his ears
+to catch the words, for the voice was the voice of a female and her
+utterance was indistinct.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He said he would pay for everything&mdash;all we could eat and drink&mdash;and
+that the pusky should be held the night after to-morrow. He will come
+himself and dance the Red River jig. Peter is a great dancer and will
+dance all others down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then the first speaker laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter must have a long stocking if he would pay for all. A barrel of
+rye would not go far, and as for food, he must bring several of the
+steers which he took from old Lablache if he would feed us. But Peter is
+always as good as his word. He said he would pay. And he will pay. When
+does he come to prepare?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He does not come. He has left the money with Baptiste, who will see to
+everything. Peter will not give 'the Ferret' a chance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how? The dance will be a danger to him,&quot; said the woman's voice.
+&quot;What if 'the Ferret' hears?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He will not hear, and, besides, Peter will be prepared if the damned
+police come. Have no fear for Peter. He is bold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The voices ceased and Horrocks waited a little longer. But presently,
+when the voices again became audible, the subject of conversation had
+changed, and he realized that he was not likely to hear more that would
+help him. So, with great caution, he stole quickly away to where his
+horse was tied. He mounted hastily and rode off, glad to be away from
+that reeking camp, and greatly elated with the success of the visit.</p>
+
+<p>He had learned a lot. And he was to hear more yet from Gautier. He felt
+that the renowned &quot;hustler&quot; was already in his clutches. His spurs went
+sharply into his broncho's flanks and he raced over the prairie towards
+the settlement. Possibly he should have known better than to trust to
+the overhearing of that conversation. His knowledge of the Breeds should
+have warned him to put little faith in what he had heard. But he was
+eager. His reputation was largely at stake over this affair, and that
+must be the excuse for the rashness of his faith. However, the penalty
+of his folly was to be his, therefore blame can well be spared.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI" />CHAPTER XVI - GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Sit down and let me hear the&mdash;worst.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's voice rasped harshly as he delivered his mandate. Horrocks
+had just arrived at the money-lender's store after his visit to the
+half-breed camp. The police-officer looked weary. And the dejected
+expression on his face had drawn from his companion the hesitating
+superlative.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you got anything to eat?&quot; Horrocks retorted quickly, ignoring the
+other's commands. &quot;I am famished. Had nothing since I set out from
+Stormy Cloud. I can't talk on an empty stomach.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache struck a table bell sharply, and one of his clerks, all of whom
+were still working in the store, entered. The money-lender's clerks
+always worked early and late. It was part of the great man's creed to
+sweat his <i>employees</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just go over to the saloon, Markham, and tell them to send supper for
+one&mdash;something substantial,&quot; he called out after the man, who hastened
+to obey with the customary precipitance of all who served the flinty
+financier.</p>
+
+<p>The man disappeared in a twinkling and Lablache turned to his visitor
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They'll send it over at once. There's some whisky in that bottle,&quot;
+pointing to a small cabinet, through the glass door of which gleamed the
+white label of &quot;special Glenlivet.&quot; &quot;Help yourself. It'll buck you up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks obeyed with alacrity, and the genial spirit considerably
+refreshed him. He then reseated himself opposite to his host, who had
+faced round from his desk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My news is not the&mdash;worst, as you seem to anticipate; although,
+perhaps, it might have been better,&quot; the officer began. &quot;In fact, I am
+fairly well pleased with the result of my day's work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which means, I take it, that you have discovered a clew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's heavy eyes gleamed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather more than a clew,&quot; Horrocks went on reflectively. &quot;My
+information relates more to the man than to the beasts. We shall, I
+think, lay our hands on this&mdash;Retief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good&mdash;good,&quot; murmured the money-lender, inclining his heavy jowled
+head. &quot;Find the man and we shall recover the cattle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not so sure of that,&quot; put in the other. &quot;However, we shall see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked slightly disappointed. The capture of Retief seemed to
+him synonymous with the recovery of his stock. However, he waited for
+his visitor to proceed. The money-lender was essentially a man to draw
+his own conclusions after hearing the facts, and no opinion of another
+was likely to influence him when once those conclusions were arrived at.
+Lablache was a strong man mentally and physically. And few cared to
+combat his decisions or opinions.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment further talk was interrupted by the entry of a man with
+Horrocks's supper. When the fellow had withdrawn the police-officer
+began his repast and the narration of his story at the same time.
+Lablache watched and listened with an undisturbed concentration. He lost
+no point, however small, in the facts as stated by the officer. He
+refrained from interruption, excepting where the significance of certain
+points in the story escaped him, and, at the conclusion, he was as
+conversant with the situation as though he had been present at the
+investigation. The great man was profoundly impressed with what he
+heard. Not so much with the shrewdness of the officer as with the simple
+significance of the loss of further trace of the cattle at the edge of
+the muskeg. Up to this point of the story he felt assured that Horrocks
+was to be perfectly relied upon, but, for the rest, he was not so sure.
+He felt that though this man was the finest tracker in the country the
+delicate science of deduction was not necessarily an accompaniment to
+his prairie abilities. Therefore, for the moment, he concentrated his
+thoughts upon the features surrounding the great keg.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is a curious thing,&quot; he said retrospectively, as the policeman
+ceased speaking, &quot;that in all previous raids of this Retief we have
+invariably tracked the lost stock down to this point. Of course, as you
+say, there is not the slightest doubt that the beasts have been herded
+over the keg. Everything seems to me to hinge on the discovery of that
+path. That is the problem which confronts us chiefly. How are we to find
+the secret of the crossing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It cannot be done,&quot; said Horrocks, simply but with decision.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nonsense,&quot; exclaimed the other, with a heavy gasp of breath. &quot;Retief
+knows it, and the others with him. Those cattle could not have been
+herded over single-handed. Now to me it seems plain that the crossing is
+a very open secret amongst the Breeds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I presume you consider that we should work chiefly on that
+hypothesis?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Exactly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you do not consider the possible capture of Retief as being the
+most important feature of the case?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Important&mdash;certainly. But, for the moment, of minor consideration. Once
+we discover the means by which he secretes his stock&mdash;and the
+hiding-place&mdash;we can stop his depredations and turn all our energies to
+his capture. You follow me? At first I was inclined to think with you
+that the capture of the man would be the best thing. But now it seems to
+me that the easiest method of procedure will be the discovery of that
+path.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rasping tone in which Lablache spoke conveyed to the other his
+unalterable conviction. The prairie man, however, remained unconvinced.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; he replied, after a moment's deliberation, &quot;I cannot say I agree
+with you. Open secret or not, I've a notion that we'd stand a better
+chance of discovering the profoundest of state secrets than elicit
+information, even supposing them to possess it, of this description from
+the Breeds. I expect Gautier here in a few minutes; we shall hear what
+he has to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I trust he <i>may</i> have something to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache snapped his reply out in that peculiar tone of his which spoke
+volumes. It never failed to anger him to have his opinions gainsaid.
+Then his manner changed slightly, and his mood seemed to become
+contemplative. Horrocks observed the change and wondered what was
+coming. The money-lender cleared his throat and spat into the stove.
+Then he spoke with that slow deliberation which was his when thinking
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two years ago, when Retief did what he liked in this part of the
+country, there were many stories going about as to his relationship with
+a certain lady in this settlement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Allandale&mdash;yes, I have heard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so; some said that she&mdash;er&mdash;was very partial to him. Some, that
+they were distantly connected. All were of opinion that she knew a great
+deal of the man if she only chose to tell. These stories were
+gossip&mdash;merely. These small places are given to gossip. But I must
+confess to a belief that gossip is often&mdash;always, in fact&mdash;founded on a
+certain amount of fact.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no niceness of feeling about this mountain of obesity in
+matters of business. He spoke as callously of the girl, for whom he
+entertained his unholy passion, as he would speak of a stranger. He
+experienced no compunction in linking her name with that of an outlaw.
+His gross nature was of too low an order to hold anything sacred where
+his money-bags were affected.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps you&mdash;er&mdash;do not know,&quot; he pursued, carefully lighting his pipe
+and pressing the charred tobacco down with the tip of his little finger,
+&quot;that this girl is the daughter of a Breed mother?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I hadn't a notion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks's keen eyes flashed with interest. He too lit his pipe as he
+lounged back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is a quarter-breed, and, moreover, the esteem in which she is held
+by the skulking inhabitants of the camp inclines me to the belief
+that&mdash;er&mdash;judicious&mdash;er&mdash;handling&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean that through her we might obtain the information we require?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks punctuated the other's deliberate utterances with hasty
+eagerness. Lablache permitted a vague smile about the corners of his
+mouth, his eyes remained gleaming coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You anticipate me. The matter would need delicate handling. What Miss
+Allandale has done in the past will not be easy to find out. Granting,
+of course, that gossip has not wronged her,&quot; he went on doubtfully. &quot;On
+second thoughts, perhaps you had better leave that source of information
+to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He relapsed apparently into deep thought. His pensive deliberation was
+full of guile. He had a purpose to achieve which necessitated the
+suggestion which he had made to this representative of the law. He
+wished to impress upon his companion a certain connivance on the part
+of, at least, one member of the house of Allandale with the doings of
+the raider. He merely wished to establish a suspicion in the mind of the
+officer. Time and necessity might develop it, if it suited Lablache's
+schemes that such should occur. In the meantime he knew he could direct
+this man's actions as he chose.</p>
+
+<p>The calm superiority of the money-lender was not lost upon his
+companion. Horrocks was nettled, and showed it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you'll pardon me, Mr. Lablache. You have offered me a source of
+information which, as a police-officer, it is my duty to sound. As you
+yourself admit, the old stories of a secret love affair may have some
+foundation in fact. Accept that and what possibilities are not opened
+up? Had I been employed on the affairs of Retief, during his previous
+raids, I should certainly have worked upon so important a clew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tut, tut, man,&quot; retorted the other, sharply. &quot;I understood you to be a
+keen man at your business. A single ill-timed move in the direction we
+are discussing and the fat will be in the fire. The girl is as smart as
+paint; at the first inkling of your purpose she'll curl up&mdash;shut up like
+a rat trap. The Breeds will be warned and we shall be further off
+success than ever. No, no, when it comes to handling Jacky Allandale you
+leave it to me&mdash;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's ejaculation was the result of the sudden apparition of a dark
+face peering in at his window. He swung round with lightning rapidity,
+and before Horrocks could realize what he was doing his fat hand was
+grasping the butt of a revolver. Then, with a grunt of annoyance, he
+turned back to his guest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's your Breed, I take it. For the moment I thought it was some one
+else; it's always best in these parts to shoot first and inquire
+afterwards. I occasionally get some strange visitors.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The policeman laughed as he went to the door. His irritation at the
+money-lender's manner was forgotten. The strangeness of the sight of
+Lablache's twenty stone of flesh moving with lightning rapidity
+astonished him beyond measure. Had he not seen it nothing would have
+convinced him of the man's marvelous agility when roused by emergency.
+It was something worth remembering.</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough, the face on the other side of the window belonged to
+Gautier, and, as Horrocks opened the door, the Breed pushed his way
+stealthily in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's all right, boss,&quot; said the man, with some show of anxiety, &quot;I've
+slipped 'em. I'm watched pretty closely, but&mdash;good evening, sir,&quot; he
+went on, turning to Lablache with obsequious politeness. &quot;This is bad
+medicine&mdash;this business we're on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache cleared his throat and spat, but deigned no reply. He intended
+to take no part in the ensuing conversation. He only wished to observe.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks at once became the officer to the subordinate. He turned
+sharply on the Breed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cut the cackle and come to business. Have you anything to tell us about
+this Retief? Out with it sharp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That depends, boss,&quot; said the man, with a cunning smile. &quot;As you sez.
+Cut the cackle and come to business. Business means a deal, and a deal
+means 'cash pappy.' Wot's the figger?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no obsequious politeness about the fellow now. He was about as
+bad a specimen of the Breed as could well be found. Hence his late
+employment by the authorities. &quot;The worse the Breed the better the spy,&quot;
+was the motto of those whose duty it was to investigate crime. Gautier
+was an excellent spy, thoroughly unscruplous and rapacious. His
+information was always a saleable commodity, and he generally found his
+market a liberal one. But with business instincts worthy of Lablache
+himself he was accustomed to bargain first and impart after.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See here,&quot; retorted Horrocks, &quot;I don't go about blind-folded. Neither
+am I going to fling bills around without getting value for 'em. What's
+your news? Can you lay hands on Retief, or tell us where the stock is
+hidden?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you're looking fer somethin' now,&quot; said the man, impudently. &quot;Ef
+I could supply that information right off some 'un 'ud hev to dip deep
+in his pocket fur it. I ken put you on to a good even trail, an' fifty
+dollars 'ud be small pay for the trouble an' the danger I'm put to. Wot
+say? Fifty o' the best greenbacks?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Lablache can pay you if he chooses, but until I know that your
+information's worth it I don't part with fifty cents. Now then, we've
+had dealings before, Gautier&mdash;dealings which have not always been to
+your credit. You can trust me to part liberally if you've anything
+worth telling, but mind this, you don't get anything beforehand, and if
+you don't tell us all you know, in you go to Calford and a diet of
+skilly'll be your lot for some time to come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man's face lowered considerably at this. He knew Horrocks well, and
+was perfectly aware that he would be as good as his word. There was
+nothing to be gained by holding out. Therefore he accepted the
+inevitable with as bad a grace as possible. Lablache kept silence, but
+he was reading the Breed as he would a book.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar, sergeant,&quot; said Gautier, sulkily, &quot;you're mighty hard on the
+Breeds, an' you know it. It'll come back on you, sure, one o' these
+days. Guess I'm going to play the game square. It ain't fur me to bluff
+men o' your kidney, only I like to know that you're going to treat me
+right. Well, this is what I've got to say, an' it's worth fifty as
+you'll 'low.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks propped himself upon the corner of the money-lender's desk and
+prepared to listen. Lablache's lashless eyes were fixed with a steady,
+unblinking stare upon the half-breed's face. Not a muscle of his own
+pasty, cruel face moved. Gautier was talking to, at least, one man who
+was more cunning and devilish than himself.</p>
+
+<p>The dusky ruffian gave a preliminary cough and then launched upon his
+story with all the flowery embellishments of which his inventive fancy
+was capable. What he had to tell was practically the same as Horrocks
+had overheard. There were a few items of importance which came fresh to
+the police-officer's ears. It stuck Lablache that the man spoke in the
+manner of a lesson well learned, and, in consequence, his keen interest
+soon relaxed. Horrocks, however, judged differently, and saw in the
+man's story a sound corroboration of his own information. As the story
+progressed his interest deepened, and at its conclusion he questioned
+the half-breed closely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This pusky. I suppose it will be the usual drunken orgie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess,&quot; was the laconic rejoinder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Any of the Breeds from the other settlements coming over?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't say, boss. Like enough, I take it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what is Retief's object in defraying all expenses&mdash;in giving the
+treat, when he knows that the white men are after him red-hot?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mebbe it's bluff&mdash;cheek. Peter's a bold man. He snaps his fingers at
+the police,&quot; replied Gautier, illustrating his words with much
+appreciation. He felt he was getting a smack at the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then Peter's a fool.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you're wrong thar. Peter's the slickest 'bad man' I've heerd tell
+of.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll see. Now what about the keg? Of course the cattle have crossed
+it. A secret path?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yup.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who knows the secret of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Breed hesitated. His furtive eyes shifted from one face to the other
+of his auditors. Then encountering the fixed stare of both men he
+glanced away towards the window. He seemed uncomfortable under the mute
+inquiry. Then he went on doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess thar's others. It's an old secret among the Breeds. An' I've
+heerd tell as some whites knows it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A swift exchange of meaning glances passed between the two listeners.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Won't&mdash;you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, boss. Ef I knew it 'ud pay me well to tell. Guess I don't know.
+I've tried to find out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now look you. Retief has always been supposed to have been drowned in
+the keg. Where's he been all the time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed grinned. Then his face became suddenly serious. He began
+to think the cross-questioning was becoming too hot He decided to draw
+on his imagination.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter was no more drowned than I was. He tricked you&mdash;us all&mdash;into that
+belief. Gee!&mdash;but he's slick. Peter went to Montana. When the States got
+too sultry fur 'im he jest came right back hyar. He's been at the camp
+fur two weeks an' more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks was silent after this. Then he turned to Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Anything you'd like to ask him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender shook his head and Horrocks turned back to his man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess that's all. Here's your fifty,&quot; he went on, taking a roll of
+bills from his pocket and counting out the coveted greenbacks. &quot;See and
+don't get mad drunk and get to shooting. Off you go. If you learn
+anything more I'm ready to pay for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Gautier took the bills and hastily crammed them into his pocket as if he
+feared he might be called upon to return them. Then he made for the
+door. He hesitated before he passed out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, sergeant, you ain't goin' fur to try an' take 'im at the pusky?&quot;
+he asked, with an appearance of anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's my business. Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Breed shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ye'll feed the coyotes, sure as&mdash;kingdom come. Say they'll jest flay
+the pelt off yer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Git!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rascal &quot;got&quot; without further delay or evil prophecy. He knew
+Horrocks.</p>
+
+<p>When the door closed, and the officer had assured himself of the man's
+departure, he turned to his host.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; retorted Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you make of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent waste of fifty dollars.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's face was expressive of indifference mixed with incredulity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He told you what you already knew,&quot; he pursued, &quot;and drew on his
+imagination for the rest. I'll swear that Retief has not been seen at
+the Breed camp for the last fortnight. Moreover, that man was reciting a
+carefully-thought-out tale. I fancy you have something yet to learn in
+your business, Horrocks. You have not the gift of reading men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The police-officer's face was a study. As he listened to the masterful
+tone of his companion his color came and went. His dark skin flushed and
+then rapidly paled. A blaze of anger leapt into his keen, flashing eyes.
+Lablache had flicked him sorely. He struggled to keep cool.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unfortunately my position will not allow me to fall out with you,&quot; he
+said, with scarcely-suppressed heat, &quot;otherwise I should call you
+sharply to account for your insulting remarks. For the moment we will
+pass them over. In the meantime, Mr. Lablache, let me tell you, my
+experience leads me to trust largely to the story of that man. Gautier
+has sold me a good deal of excellent information in the past, and I am
+convinced that what I have now heard is not the least of his efforts in
+the law's behalf. Rascal&mdash;scoundrel&mdash;as he is, he would not dare to set
+me on a false scent&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not if backed by a man like Retief&mdash;and all the half-breed camp? You
+surprise me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks gritted his teeth but spoke sharply. Lablache's supercilious
+tone of mockery drove him to the verge of madness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not even under these circumstances. I shall attend that pusky and
+effect the arrest. I understand these people better than you give me
+credit for. I presume your discretion will not permit you to be present
+at the capture?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was Horrocks's turn to sneer now. Lablache remained unmoved. He
+merely permitted the ghost of a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My discretion will not permit me to be present at the pusky. There will
+be no capture, I fear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then I'll bid you good-night. There is no need to further intrude upon
+your time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None whatever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender did not attempt to show the policeman any
+consideration. He had decided that Horrocks was a fool, and when
+Lablache formed such an opinion of a man he rarely attempted to conceal
+it, especially when the man stood in a subordinate position.</p>
+
+<p>After seeing the officer off the premises, Lablache moved heavily back
+to his desk. The alarm clock indicated ten minutes to nine. He stood for
+some moments gazing with introspective eyes at the timepiece. He was
+thinking hard. He was convinced that what he had just heard was a mere
+fabrication, invented to cover some ulterior motive. That motive puzzled
+him. He had no fear for Horrocks's life. Horrocks wore the uniform of
+the Government. Lawless and all as the Breeds were, he knew they would
+not resist the police&mdash;unless, of course, Retief were there. Having
+decided in his mind that Retief would not be there he had no misgivings.
+He failed to fathom the trend of affairs at all. In spite of his outward
+calm he felt uneasy, and he started as though he had been shot when he
+heard a loud knocking at his private door.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender's hand dropped on to the revolver lying upon the desk,
+and he carried the weapon with him when he went to answer the summons.
+His alarm was needless. His late visitor was &quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>The old rancher came in sheepishly enough. There was no mistaking the
+meaning of his peculiar crouching gait, the leering upward glance of his
+bloodshot eyes. To any one who did not know him, his appearance might
+have been that of a drink-soaked tramp, so dishevelled and bleared he
+looked. Lablache took in the old man's condition in one swift glance
+from his pouched and fishy eyes. His greeting was cordial&mdash;too cordial.
+Any other but the good-hearted, simple old man would have been
+suspicious of it. Cordiality was not Lablache's nature.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, John, better late than never,&quot; he exclaimed gutturally. &quot;Come in
+and have a smoke.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I thought I'd just come right down and&mdash;see if you'd got any
+news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None&mdash;none, old friend. Nothing at all. Horrocks is a fool, I'm
+thinking. Take that chair,&quot; pointing to the basket chair. &quot;You're not
+looking up to the mark. Have a nip of Glenlivet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He passed the white-labeled bottle over to his companion, and watched
+the rancher curiously as he shakily helped himself to a liberal &quot;four
+fingers.&quot; &quot;Poker&quot; John was rapidly breaking up. Lablache fully realized
+this.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No news&mdash;no news,&quot; murmured John, as he smacked his lips over his &quot;tot&quot;
+of whisky. &quot;It's bad, man, very bad. We're not safe in this place whilst
+that man's about. Dear, dear, dear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The senility of the rancher was painfully apparent. Doubtless it was the
+result of his recent libations and excesses. The money-lender was quite
+aware that John had not come to him to discuss the &quot;hustler.&quot; He had
+come to suggest a game of cards, but for reasons of his own the former
+wished to postpone the request. He had not expected that &quot;Poker&quot; John
+would have come this evening; therefore, certain plans of his were not
+to have been put into execution until the following day. Now, however,
+it was different. John's coming, and his condition, offered him a chance
+which was too good to be missed, and Lablache was never a man to miss
+opportunities.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII" />CHAPTER XVII - THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY</h2>
+
+
+<p>Presently the old man drew himself up a little. The spirit had a bracing
+effect upon him. The dull leering eyes assumed a momentary brightness,
+and he almost grew cheerful. The change was not lost upon Lablache. It
+was a veritable game of the cat and the mouse.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is the first time your stock has been touched,&quot; said John,
+meaninglessly. His thoughts were running upon the game of cards he had
+promised himself. An unaccountable lack of something like moral courage
+prevented him talking of it. Possibly it was the iron influence of his
+companion which forbade the suggestion of cards. &quot;Poker&quot; John was
+inwardly chafing at his own weakness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; responded the other, &quot;I have not been touched before.&quot; Then,
+suddenly, he leant forward, and, for the moment, the money-lender's face
+lit up with something akin to kindliness. It was an unusual sight, and
+one not to be relied upon. &quot;How many years is it, John, that we have
+struggled side by side in this benighted land?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher looked at the other, then his eyes dropped. He scarcely
+comprehended. He was startled at the expression of that leathery, puffed
+face. He shifted uneasily with the curious weakly restlessness of a
+shattered nerve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;More years, I guess, than I care to think of,&quot; he murmured at last.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes, you're right, John&mdash;quite right. It doesn't do to look back
+too far. We're getting on. But we're not old men yet. We're rich, John,
+rich in land and experience. No, not so old. We can still give the
+youngsters points, John. Ha, ha!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache laughed hollowly at his own pleasantry. His companion joined
+in the laugh, but without mirth. Poker&mdash;he could think of nothing but
+poker. The money-lender insinuatingly pushed the whisky bottle closer to
+the senile rancher. Almost unconsciously the old man helped himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wonder what it would be like living a private, idle life?&quot; Lablache
+went on, as though speaking to himself. Then directly to his companion,
+&quot;Do you know, old friend, I'm seriously thinking of selling out all my
+interests and retiring. I've worked very hard&mdash;very hard. I'm getting
+tired of it all. Sometimes I feel that rest would be good. I have
+amassed a very large fortune, John&mdash;as you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The confidences of the money-lender were so unusual that &quot;Poker&quot; John,
+in a dazed way, mildly wondered. The whisky had roused him a good deal
+now, and he felt that it was good to talk like this. He felt that the
+money-lender was a good fellow, and much better than he had thought. He
+even experienced compunction for the opinions which, at times, he had
+expressed of this old companion. Drink plays strange pranks with one's
+better judgment at times. Lablache noted the effect of his words
+carefully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said John, &quot;you have worked hard&mdash;we have both worked hard. Our
+lives have not been altogether without pleasure. The occasional game of
+cards we have had together has always helped to relieve monotony, eh,
+Lablache? Yes&mdash;yes. No one can say we have not earned rest. But
+there&mdash;yes, you have been more fortunate than I. I could not retire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache raised his sparse eyebrows. Then he helped himself to some
+whisky and pushed the bottle over to the other. When John had again
+replenished his glass the money-lender solemnly raised his and waved it
+towards the gray-headed old man. John responded unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How!&quot; replied the rancher.</p>
+
+<p>Both men drank the old Indian toast. Simple honesty was in one heart,
+while duplicity and low cunning filled the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You could not retire?&quot; said Lablache, when they had set their empty
+glasses upon the desk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;no,&quot; answered the other, shaking his head with ludicrous
+mournfulness, &quot;not retire; I have responsibilities&mdash;debts. You should
+know. I must pay them off. I must leave Jacky provided for.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, of course. You must pay them off. Jacky should be your first
+consideration.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache pursed his sensual lips. His expression was one of deep
+concern. Then he apparently fell into a reverie, during which John was
+wondering how best to propose the longed-for game of cards. The other
+roused himself before the desired means suggested itself to the old
+gambler. And his efforts were cut short abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky ought to marry,&quot; Lablache said without preamble. &quot;One never knows
+what may happen. A good husband&mdash;a man with money and business capacity,
+would be a great help to you, and would assure her future.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache had touched upon the one strong point which remained in John
+Allandale's character. His love for Jacky rivaled his passion for poker,
+and in its pure honesty was perhaps nearly as strong as that feverish
+zest. The gambler suddenly became electrified into a different being.
+The signs of decay&mdash;the atmosphere of drink, as it were, fell from him
+in the flashing of a second, and the old vigorous rancher, like the last
+dying flame of a fire, shot up into being.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky shall marry when she chooses, and whatever man she prefers. I
+will never profit by that dear child's matrimonial affairs,&quot; he said
+simply.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache bit his lips. He had been slightly premature. He acquiesced
+with a heavy nod of the head and poured himself out some more whisky.
+The example was natural and his companion followed it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are quite right, John. I merely spoke from a worldly point of
+view. But your decision affects me closely.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The other looked curiously at the money-lender, who thus found himself
+forced to proceed. Hitherto he had chosen his own gait. Now he felt
+himself being drawn. The process was new to him, but it suited his
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache sighed. It was like the breathing of an adipose pig.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have known that niece of yours, John, ever since she came into this
+world. I have watched her grow. I understand her nature as well as you
+do yourself. She is a clever, bright, winsome girl. But she needs the
+guiding hand of a good husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so. You are right. I am too old to take proper care of her. When
+she chooses she shall marry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John's tone was decisive. His words were non-committing and open to no
+argument. Lablache went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supposing now a rich man, a very rich man, proposed marriage for her.
+Presuming he was a man against whom there was no doubtful record&mdash;who,
+from a worldly point of view, there could be no objection to&mdash;should you
+object to him as a husband for Jacky?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher was still unsuspecting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What I have stated should answer your question. If Jacky were willing I
+should have no objection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supposing,&quot; the money-lender went on, &quot;she were unwilling, but was
+content to abide by your decision. What then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a passing gleam of angry protest in the rancher's eyes as he
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What I have said still holds good,&quot; he retorted a little hotly. &quot;I will
+not influence the child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am sorry. I wish to marry your girl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was an impressive silence after this announcement. &quot;Poker&quot; John
+stared in blank wonderment at his companion. The expectation of such a
+contingency could not have been farther from his thought. Lablache&mdash;to
+many his niece&mdash;it was preposterous&mdash;ludicrous. He would not take it
+seriously&mdash;he could not. It was a joke&mdash;and not a nice one.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed&mdash;and in his laugh there was a ring of anger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course you are joking, Lablache,&quot; he said at last. &quot;Why, man, you
+are old enough to be the girl's father.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was never more serious in my life. And as for age,&quot; with a shrug, &quot;at
+least you will admit my intellect is unimpaired. Her interests will be
+in safe keeping.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Having recovered from his surprise the old man solemnly shook his head.
+Some inner feeling made him shrink from thoughts of Lablache as a
+husband for his girl. Besides, he had no intention of retreating from
+the stand he had taken.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As far as I am concerned the matter is quite impossible. If Jacky comes
+to me with a request for sanction of her marriage to you, she shall have
+it. But I will express no wish upon the matter. No, Lablache, I never
+thought you contemplated such a thing. You must go to her. I will not
+interfere. Oh, dear! oh, dear!&quot; and the old man laughed again nervously.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache remained perfectly calm. He had expected this result; although
+he had hoped that it might have been otherwise. Now he felt that he had
+paved the way to methods much dearer to his heart. This refusal of
+John's he intended to turn to account. He would force an acceptance from
+Jacky, and induce her uncle, by certain means, to give his consent.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender remained silent while he refilled his pipe. &quot;Poker&quot;
+John seized the opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, Lablache,&quot; he said jocosely, &quot;let us forget this little matter.
+Have a drink of your own whisky&mdash;I'll join you&mdash;and let us go down to
+the saloon for a gentle flutter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He helped himself to the spirit and poured out a glass for his
+companion. They silently drank, and then Lablache coughed, spat and lit
+his pipe. He fumbled his hat on to his head and moved to the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come on, then,&quot; he said gutturally. And John Allandale followed him
+out.</p>
+
+<p>The two days before the half-breed pusky passed quickly enough for some
+of those who are interested, and dragged their weary lengths all too
+slowly for others. At last, however, in due course the day dawned, and
+with it hopes and fears matured in the hearts of not a few of the
+denizens of Foss River and the surrounding neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>To all appearance the most unconcerned man was the Hon. Bunning-Ford,
+who still moved about the settlement in his cheery, <i>d&eacute;bonnaire</i>
+fashion, ever gentlemanly and always indolent. He had taken up his
+residence in one of the many disused shacks which dotted round the
+market-place, and there, apparently, sought to beguile the hours and eke
+out the few remaining dollars which were his. For Lablache, in his
+sweeping process, had still been forced to hand over some money, over
+and above his due, as a result of the sale of the young rancher's
+property. The trifling amount, however, was less than enough to keep
+body and soul together for six months.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, too, staunch to his opinions, did not trouble himself in the
+least. For the rest, all who knew of the meditated <i>coup</i> of Horrocks
+were agitated to a degree. All hoped for success, but all agreed in a
+feeling of pessimism which was more or less the outcome of previous
+experiences of Retief. Did not they know, only too well, of the traps
+which had been laid and which had failed to ensnare the daring desperado
+in days gone by? Horrocks they fondly believed to be a very smart man,
+but had not some of the best in the Canadian police been sent before to
+bring to justice this scourge of the district?</p>
+
+<p>Amongst those who shared these pessimistic views Mrs. Abbot was one of
+the most skeptical. She had learnt all the details of the intended
+arrest in the way she learned everything that was going on. A few
+judicious questions to the doctor and careful observations never left
+her long in the dark. She had a natural gift for absorbing information.
+She was a sort of social amalgam which never failed to glean the golden
+particles of news which remained after the &quot;panning up&quot; of daily events
+in Foss River. Nothing ever escaped this dear old soul, from the details
+of a political crisis in a distant part of the continent down to the
+number of drinks absorbed by some worthless half-breed in &quot;old man&quot;
+Smith's saloon. She had one of those keen, active brains which refuses
+to become dull and torpid in an atmosphere of humdrum monotony. Luckily
+her nature never allowed her to become a mischievous busybody. She was
+too kindly for that&mdash;too clever, tactful.</p>
+
+<p>After duly weighing the point at issue she found Horrocks's plans
+wanting, hence her unbelief, but, at the same time, her old heart
+palpitated with nervous excitement as might the heart of any younger and
+more hopeful of those in the know.</p>
+
+<p>As for the Allandales, it would be hard to say what they thought. Jacky
+went about her duties with a placidity that was almost worthy of the
+great money-lender himself. She showed no outward sign, and very little
+interest. Her thoughts she kept severely to herself. But she had
+thoughts on the subject, thoughts which teemed through her brain night
+and day. She was in reality aglow with excitement, but the Breed nature
+in her allowed no sign of emotion to appear. &quot;Poker&quot; John was beyond a
+keen interest. Whisky and cards had done for him what morphine and opium
+does for the drug fiend. He had no thoughts beyond them. In lucid
+intervals, as it were, he thought, perhaps, as well as his poor dulled
+brain would permit him, but the result of his mental effort would
+scarcely be worth recording.</p>
+
+<p>And so the time drew near.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks, since his difference of opinion with Lablache, had made the
+ranch his headquarters, leaving the money-lender as much as possible out
+of his consultations. He had been heartily welcomed by old John and his
+niece, the latter in particular being very gracious to him. Horrocks
+was not a lady's man, but he appreciated comfort when he could get it,
+and Jacky spared no trouble to make him comfortable now. Had he known
+the smiling thought behind her beautiful face his appreciation might
+have lessened.</p>
+
+<p>As the summer day drew to a close signs of coming events began to show
+themselves. First of all Aunt Margaret made her appearance at the
+Allandales' house. She was hot and excited. She had come up for a
+gossip, she said, and promptly sat down with no intention of moving
+until she had heard all she wanted to know. Then came &quot;Lord&quot; Bill,
+cheerily monosyllabic. He always considered that long speeches were a
+disgusting waste of time. Following closely upon his heels came the
+doctor and Pat Nabob, with another rancher from an outlying ranch. Quite
+why they had come up they would have hesitated to say. Possibly it was
+curiosity&mdash;possibly natural interest in affairs which nearly affected
+them. Horrocks, they knew, was at the ranch. Perhaps the magnetism which
+surrounds persons about to embark on hazardous undertakings had
+attracted them thither.</p>
+
+<p>As the hour for supper drew near the gathering in the sitting-room
+became considerable, and as each newcomer presented himself, Jacky, with
+thoughtful hospitality, caused another place to be set at her bountiful
+table. No one was ever allowed to pass a meal hour at the ranch without
+partaking of refreshment. It was one of the principal items provided for
+in the prairie creed, and the greatest insult to be offered at such time
+would have been to leave the house before the repast.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o'clock the girl announced the meal with characteristic
+heartiness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come right along and feed,&quot; she said. &quot;Who knows what to-night may
+bring forth? I guess we can't do better than drink success to our
+friend, Sergeant Horrocks. Whatever the result of his work to-night we
+all allow his nerve's right. Say, good people, there's liquor on the
+table&mdash;and glasses; a bumper to Sergeant Horrocks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The wording of the girl's remarks was significant. Truly Horrocks might
+have been the leader of a forlorn hope. Many of those present certainly
+considered him to be such. However, they were none the less hearty in
+their toast, and Jacky and Bill were the two first to raise their
+glasses on high.</p>
+
+<p>The toast drunk, tongues were let loose and the supper began. Ten
+o'clock was the time at which Horrocks was to set out. Therefore there
+were two hours in which to make merry. Never was a merrier meal taken at
+the ranch. Spirits were at bursting point, due no doubt to the current
+of excitement which actuated each member of the gathering.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was in the best of spirits, and even &quot;Poker&quot; John was enjoying one
+of his rare lucid intervals. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill sat between Jacky and Mrs.
+Abbot, and a more charming companion the old lady thought she had never
+met. It was Jacky who led the talk, Jacky who saw to every one's wants,
+Jacky whose spirits cheered everybody, by her light badinage, into, even
+against their better judgment, a feeling of optimism. Even Horrocks felt
+the influence of her bright, winsome cheeriness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Capture this colored scoundrel, Sergeant Horrocks,&quot; the girl exclaimed,
+with a laughing glance, as she helped him to a goodly portion of baked
+Jack-rabbit, &quot;and we'll present you with the freedom of the settlement,
+in an illuminated address inclosed in a golden casket. That's the mode,
+I take it, in civilized countries, and I guess we are civilized
+hereabout, some. Say, Bill, I opine you're the latest thing from England
+here to-night. What does 'freedom' mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked dubious. Everybody waited for his answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Freedom&mdash;um. Yes, of course&mdash;freedom. Why, freedom means banquets. You
+know&mdash;turtle soup&mdash;bile&mdash;indigestion. Best champagne in the mayor's
+cellar. Police can't run you in if you get drunk. All that sort of
+thing, don'tcherknow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent definition,&quot; laughed the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish somebody would present me with 'freedom,'&quot; said Nabob,
+plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's a good thing we don't go in for that sort of thing extensively in
+Canada,&quot; put in Horrocks, as the representative of the law. &quot;The
+peaceful pastime of the police would soon be taken from them. Why, the
+handling of 'drunks' is our only recreation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That, and for some of them the process of lowering four per cent.
+beer,&quot; added the doctor, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Another laugh followed the doctor's sally.</p>
+
+<p>When the mirth had subsided Aunt Margaret shook her head. This levity
+rather got on her nerves. This Retief business, as she understood it,
+was a very serious affair, especially for Sergeant Horrocks. She was
+keenly anxious to hear the details of his preparations. She knew most of
+them, but she liked her information first hand. With this object in view
+she suggested, rather than asked, what she wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I don't quite understand. I take it you are going single-handed
+into the half-breed camp, where you expect to find this Retief, Sergeant
+Horrocks?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks's face was serious as he looked over at the old lady. There was
+no laughter in his black, flashing eyes. He was not a man given to
+suavity. His business effectually crushed any approach to that sort of
+thing. He was naturally a stern man, too.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not quite mad, madam,&quot; he said curtly. &quot;I set some value upon my
+life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This crushing rejoinder had no effect upon Aunt Margaret. She still
+persisted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, of course, you take your men with you. Four, you have, and smart
+they look, too. I like to see well-set-up men. I trust you will succeed.
+They&mdash;I mean the Breeds&mdash;are a dangerous people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so dangerous as they're reckoned, I guess,&quot; said Horrocks,
+disdainfully. &quot;I don't anticipate much trouble.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope it will turn out as you think,&quot; replied the old lady,
+doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks shrugged his shoulders; he was not to be drawn.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence after this, which was at length broken by
+&quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course, Horrocks,&quot; he said, &quot;we shall carry out your instructions to
+the letter. At three in the morning, failing your return or news of you,
+I set out with my ranch hands to find you. And woe betide those black
+devils if you have come to harm. By the way, what about your men?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They assemble here at ten. We leave our horses at Lablache's stables.
+We are going to walk to the settlement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think you are wise,&quot; said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess horses would be an encumbrance,&quot; said Jacky.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent mark for a Breed's gun,&quot; added Bill. &quot;Seems to me you'll
+succeed,&quot; he went on politely. His eagle face was calmly sincere. The
+gray eyes looked steadily into those of the officer's. Jacky was
+watching her lover keenly. The faintest suspicion of a smile was in her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like to be there,&quot; she said simply, when Bill had finished.
+&quot;It's mean bad luck being a girl. Say, d'you think I'd be in the way,
+sergeant?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks looked over at her, and in his gaze was a look of admiration.
+In the way he knew she would be, but he could not tell her so. Such
+spirit appealed to him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There would be much danger for you, Miss Jacky,&quot; he said. &quot;My hands
+would be full, I could not look after you, and besides&mdash;&quot; He broke off
+at the recollection of the old stories about this girl. Suddenly he
+wondered if he had been indiscreet. What if the stories were true. He
+ran cold at the thought. These people knew his plans. Then he looked
+into the girl's beautiful face. No, it must be false. She could have
+nothing in common with the rascally Breeds.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And besides&mdash;what?&quot; Jacky said, smiling over at the policeman.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When Breeds are drunk they are not responsible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That settles it,&quot; the girl's uncle said, with a forced laugh. He did
+not like Jacky's tone. Knowing her, he feared she intended to be there
+to see the arrest.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle's laugh nettled the girl a little, and with a slight elevation
+of her head, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Further talk now became impossible, for, at that moment the troopers
+arrived. Horrocks discovered that it was nearly ten o'clock. The moment
+for the start had come, and, with one accord, everybody rose from the
+table. In the bustle and handshaking of departure Jacky slipped away.
+When, she returned the doctor and Mrs. Abbot were in the hall alone with
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill. The latter was just leaving. &quot;Poker&quot; John was on the
+veranda seeing Horrocks off.</p>
+
+<p>As Jacky came downstairs Aunt Margaret's eyes fell upon the ominous
+holster and cartridge belt which circled the girl's hips. She was
+dressed for riding. There could be no mistaking the determined set of
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky, my dear,&quot; said the old lady in dismay. &quot;What are you doing?
+Where are you going?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I'm going to see the fun&mdash;I've a notion there'll be some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't 'but' me, Aunt Margaret, I take it you aren't deaf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old lady relapsed into dignified silence, but there was much concern
+and a little understanding in her eyes as she watched the girl pass out
+to the corrals.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII" />CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<p>THE PUSKY</p>
+
+
+<p>A pusky is a half-breed dance. That is the literal meaning of the word.
+The practical translation, however, is often different. In reality it is
+a debauch&mdash;a frightful orgie, when all the lower animal instincts&mdash;and
+they are many and strong in the half-breed&mdash;are given full sway. When
+drunkenness and bestial passions rule the actions of these worse than
+savages. When murder and crimes of all sorts are committed without
+scruple, without even thought. Latterly things have changed, and these
+orgies are less frequent among the Breeds, or, at least, conducted with
+more regard for decorum. But we are talking of some years ago, at a time
+when the Breeds had to learn the meaning of civilization&mdash;before good
+order and government were thoroughly established in this great Western
+country; in the days when Indian &quot;Sun&quot; dances, and other barbarous
+functions were held. In the days of the Red River Jig, when a good
+fiddler of the same was held to be a man of importance; when the method
+of tuning the fiddle to the necessary pitch for the playing of that
+curious dance was a secret known only to a privileged few. Some might
+call them the &quot;good&quot; old days. &quot;Bad&quot; is the adjective which best
+describes that period.</p>
+
+<p>When Horrocks and his men set out for the Breed camp they had discarded
+their police clothes and were clad in the uncouth garb of the
+half-breeds. They had even gone to the length of staining their faces to
+the coppery hue of the Indians. They were a ragged party, these hardy
+riders of the plains, as they embarked on their meditated capture of the
+desperate raider. All of the five were &quot;tough&quot; men, who regarded their
+own lives lightly enough&mdash;men who had seen many stirring times, and
+whose hairbreadth escapes from &quot;tight&quot; corners would have formed a
+lengthy narrative in themselves. They were going to they knew not what
+now, but they did not shrink from the undertaking. Their leader was a
+man whose daring often outweighed his caution, but, as they well knew,
+he was endowed with a reckless man's luck, and they would sooner follow
+such as he&mdash;for they were sure of a busy time&mdash;than work with one of his
+more prudent colleagues.</p>
+
+<p>At the half-breed camp was considerable bustle and excitement. The
+activity of the Breed is not proverbial; they are at best a lazy lot,
+but now men and women came and went bristling with energy to their
+finger tips. Preparations were nearing completion. The chief item of
+importance was the whisky supply, and this the treasurer, Baptiste, had
+made his personal care. A barrel of the vilest &quot;rot-gut&quot; that was ever
+smuggled into prohibition territory had been procured and carefully
+secreted. This formed the chief refreshment, and, doubtless, the
+&quot;bluestone&quot; with which its fiery contents were strengthened, would work
+the passionate natures, on which it was to play, up to the proper
+crime-committing pitch.</p>
+
+<p>The orgie was to be held in a barn of considerable dimensions. It was a
+ramshackle affair, reeking of old age and horses. The roof was decidedly
+porous in places, being so lame and disjointed that the starry
+resplendence of the summer sky was plainly visible from beneath it.</p>
+
+<p>This, however, was a trifling matter, and of much less consequence than
+the question of space. What few horse stalls had once occupied the
+building had been removed, and the mangers alone remained, with the odor
+of horse, to remind the guests of the original purpose of their
+ballroom. A careful manipulation of dingy Turkey red, and material which
+had once been white, struggled vainly to hide these mangers from view,
+while coarse, rough boards which had at one time floored some of the
+stalls, served to cover in the tops and convert them into seats. The
+result was a triumph of characteristic ingenuity. The barn was converted
+into a place of the necessary requirements, but rendered hideous in the
+process.</p>
+
+<p>Next came the disguising of the rafters and &quot;collar-ties&quot; of the
+building. This was a process which lent itself to the curiously warped
+artistic sense of the benighted people. Print&mdash;I mean cotton rags&mdash;was
+the chief idea of decoration. They understood these stuffs. They were
+cheap&mdash;or, at least, as cheap as anything sold at Lablache's store.
+Besides, print decorated the persons of the buxom Breed women, therefore
+what more appropriate than such stuff to cover the nakedness of the
+building. Festoons of print, flags of print, rosettes of print: these
+did duty for the occasion. The staring patterns gleamed on every beam,
+or hung in bald draping almost down to the height of an ordinary man's
+head. The effect was strangely reminiscent of a second-hand clothes
+shop, and helped to foster the nauseating scent of the place.</p>
+
+<p>A row of reeking oil lamps, swinging in crazy wire swings, were
+suspended down the center from the moldering beams, and in the diamond
+window spaces were set a number of black bottles, the neck of each being
+stuffed with a tallow candle.</p>
+
+<p>One corner of the room was set apart for the fiddler, and here a da&iuml;s of
+rough boarding, also draped in print stuff, was erected to meet the
+requirements of that honored personage. Such was the uncouth place where
+the Breeds proposed to hold their orgie. And of its class it was an
+excellent example.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock the barn was lit up, and strangely bizarre was the
+result. The draught through the broken windows set the candles
+a-guttering, until rivers of yellow fat decorated the black bottles in
+which they were set. The stench from these, and from the badly-trimmed
+coal oil lamps down the center, blended disgustingly with the native
+odor of the place, until the atmosphere became heavy, pungent, revolting
+in the nostrils, and breathing became a labor after the sweet fresh air
+of the prairie outside.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after this the dancers began to arrive. They came in their strange
+deckings of glaring colors, and many and varied were the types which
+soon filled the room. There were old men and there were young men. There
+were girls in their early teens, and toothless hags, decrepit and
+faltering. Faces which, in wild loveliness, might have vied with the
+white beauty of the daughters of the East. Faces seared and crumpled
+with weight of years and nights of debauchery. Men were there of superb
+physique, whilst others crouched huddled, with shuffling gait towards
+the manger seats, to seek rest for their rotting bones, and ease for
+their cramping muscles.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the faces were marred by disease; small-pox was a prevalent
+scourge amongst these people. The effect of the pure air of the prairie
+was lost upon the germ-laden atmosphere which surrounded these dreadful
+camps. Crime, too, was stamped on many of the faces of those gathering
+in the reeking ballroom. The small bullet head with low, receding
+forehead; the square set jaws and sagging lips; the shifty, twinkling
+little eyes, narrow-set and of jetty hue; such faces were plentiful. Nor
+were these features confined to the male sex alone. Truly it was a
+motley gathering, and not pleasant to look upon.</p>
+
+<p>All, as they came, were merry with anticipation; even the hags and the
+rheumatism-ridden male fossils croaked out their quips and coarse
+pleasantries to each other with gleeful unctuousness, inspired by
+thoughts of the generous contents of the secreted barrel. Their watery
+eyes watered the more, as, on entering the room, they glanced round
+seeking to discover the fiery store of liquor, which they hoped to help
+to dispose of. It was a loathsome sight to behold these miserable
+wretches gathering together with no thought in their beast-like brains
+but of the ample food and drink which they intended should fall to their
+share. Crabbed old age seeking rejuvenation in gut-burning spirit.</p>
+
+<p>The room quickly filled, and the chattering of many and strange tongues
+lent an apish tone to the function. The French half-breed predominated,
+and these spoke their bastard lingo with that rapidity and bristling
+elevation of tone which characterizes their Gallic relatives. It seemed
+as though each were trying to talk his neighbor down, and the process
+entailed excited shriekings which made the old barn ring again.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste, with a perfect understanding of the people, served out the
+spirit in pannikins with a lavish hand. It was as well to inspire these
+folk with the potent liquor from the start, that their energies might be
+fully aroused for the dance.</p>
+
+<p>When all, men and women alike, had partaken of an &quot;eye-opener,&quot; Baptiste
+gave the signal, and the fiddler struck up his plaintive wail. The reedy
+strings of his instrument shrieked out the long-drawn measure of a
+miserable waltz, the company paired off, and the dance began.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever else may be the failings of the Breeds they can dance. Dancing
+is as much a part of their nature as is the turning of a dog twice
+before he lies down, a feature of the canine race. Those who were
+physically incapable of dancing lined the walls and adorned the manger
+seats. For the rest, they occupied the sanded floor, and danced until
+the dust clouded the air and added to the choking foulness of the
+atmosphere.</p>
+
+<p>The shrieking fiddle lured this savage people, and its dreadful tone was
+music of the sweetest to their listening ears. This was a people who
+would dance. They would dance so long as they could stand.</p>
+
+<p>More drink followed the first dance. Baptiste had not yet recognized the
+pitch of enthusiasm which must promise a successful evening. The
+quantities of liquor thus devoured were appalling. The zest increased.
+The faces wearing an habitual frown displayed a budding smile. The
+natural smiler grinned broadly. All warmed to the evening's amusement.</p>
+
+<p>Now came the festive barn dance. The moccasined feet pounded the filthy
+floor, and the dust gathered thick round the gums of the hard-breathing
+dancers. The noise of coarse laughter and ribald shoutings increased.
+All were pleased with themselves, but more pleased still with the fiery
+liquid served out by Baptiste. The scene grew more wild as time crept
+on, and the effect of the liquor made itself apparent. The fiddler
+labored cruelly at his wretched instrument. His task was no light one,
+but he spared himself no pains. His measure must be even, his tone
+almost unending to satisfy his countrymen. He understood them, as did
+Baptiste. To fail in his work would mean angry protests from those he
+served, and angry protests amongst the Breeds generally took the form of
+a shower of leaden bullets. So he scraped away with aching limbs, and
+with heavy foot pounding out the time upon the crazy da&iuml;s. He must play
+until long after daylight, until his fingers cramped, and his old eyes
+would remain open no longer.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Retief had not as yet put in an appearance. Horrocks was at his
+post viewing the scene from outside one of the broken windows. His men
+were hard by, concealed at certain points in the shelter of some
+straggling bush which surrounded the stable. Horrocks, with
+characteristic energy and disregard for danger, had set himself the task
+of spying out the land. He had a waiting game to play, but the result he
+hoped would justify his action.</p>
+
+<p>The scene he beheld was not new to him, his duties so often carried him
+within the precincts of a half-breed camp. No one knew the Breeds better
+than did this police officer.</p>
+
+<p>Time passed. Again and again the fiddle ceased its ear-maddening screams
+as refreshment was partaken of by the dancers. Wilder and wilder grew
+the scene as the potent liquor took hold of its victims. They danced
+with more and more reckless abandon as each time they returned to step
+it to the fiddler's patient measure. Midnight approached and still no
+sign of Retief. Horrocks grew restless and impatient.</p>
+
+<p>Once the fiddle ceased, and the officer watching saw all eyes turn to
+the principal entrance to the barn. His heart leapt in anticipation as
+he gazed in the direction. Surely this sudden cessation could only
+herald the coming of Retief.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the door open as he craned forward to look. For the moment he
+could not see who entered; a crowd obscured his view. He heard a cheer
+and a clapping of hands, and he rejoiced. Then the crowd parted and he
+saw the slim figure of a girl pass down the center of the reeking den.
+She was clad in buckskin shirt and dungaree skirt. At the sight he
+muttered a curse. The newcomer was Jacky Allandale.</p>
+
+<p>He watched her closely as she moved amongst her uncouth surroundings.
+Her beautiful face and graceful figure was like to an oasis of stately
+flora in a desert of trailing, vicious brambles, and he marveled at the
+familiarity with which she came among these people. Moreover, he became
+beset with misgivings as he remembered the old stories which linked this
+girl's name with that of Retief. He struggled to fathom the meaning of
+what he saw, but the real significance of her coming escaped him.</p>
+
+<p>The Breeds once more returned to their dancing, and all went on as
+before. Horrocks followed Jacky's movements with his eyes. He saw her
+standing beside a toothless old woman, who wagged her cunning, aged head
+as she talked in answer to the girl's questions. Jacky seemed to be
+looking and inquiring for some one, and the officer wondered if the
+object of her solicitude was Retief. He would have been surprised had he
+known that she was inquiring and looking for himself. Presently she
+seated herself and appeared to be absorbed in the dance.</p>
+
+<p>The drink was flowing freely now, and a constant demand was being made
+upon Baptiste. Whilst the fiery spirit scorched down the hardened
+throats, strange, weird groans came from the fiddler's woeful
+instrument. The old man was tuning it down for the plaintive
+requirements of the Red River Jig.</p>
+
+<p>The dance of the evening was about to begin. Men and women primed
+themselves for the effort. Each was eager to outdo his or her neighbor
+in variety of steps and power of endurance. All were prepared to do or
+die. The mad jig was a national contest, and the one who lasted the
+longest would be held the champion dancer of the district&mdash;a coveted
+distinction amongst this strange people.</p>
+
+<p>At last the music began again, and now the familiar &quot;Ragtime&quot; beat
+fascinatingly upon the air. Those who lined the walls took up the
+measure, and, with foot and clapping hands, marked the time for the
+dancers. Those who competed leapt to the fray, and soon the reeking room
+became stifling with dust.</p>
+
+<p>The fiddler's time, slow at the commencement, soon grew faster, and the
+dancers shook their limbs in delighted anticipation. Faster and faster
+they shuffled and jigged, now opposite to partners, now round each
+other, now passing from one partner to another, now alone, for the
+admiration of the onlookers. Nor was there pause or hesitation. An
+instant's pause meant dropping out of that mad and old time &quot;hoe-down,&quot;
+and each coveted the distinction of champion. Faster and more wildly
+they footed it, and soon the speed caused some of the less agile to drop
+out. It was a giddy sight to watch, and the strange clapping of the
+spectators was not the least curious feature of the scene.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd of dancers grew thinner as the fiddler, with a marvelous
+display of latent energy, kept ever-increasing his speed.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself Horrocks became fascinated. There was something so
+barbarous&mdash;heathenish&mdash;in what he beheld. The minutes flew by, and the
+dance was rapidly nearing its height. More couples fell out, dead beat
+and gasping, but still there remained a number who would fight it out to
+the bitter end. The streaming faces and gaping lips of those yet
+remaining told of the dreadful strain. Another couple dropped out, the
+woman actually falling with exhaustion. She was dragged aside and left
+unnoticed in the wild excitement. Now were only three pairs left in the
+center of the floor.</p>
+
+<p>The police-officer found himself speculating as to which would be the
+winner of the contest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That brown-faced wench, with the flaming red dress, 'll do 'em all,&quot; he
+said to himself. The woman he was watching had a young Breed of great
+agility for her <i>vis-&agrave;-vis</i>. &quot;She or her partner 'll do it,&quot; he went on,
+almost audibly. &quot;Good,&quot; he was becoming enthusiastic, &quot;there's another
+couple done,&quot; as two more suddenly departed, and flung themselves on the
+ground exhausted. &quot;Yes, they'll do it&mdash;crums, but there goes her
+partner! Keep it up, girl&mdash;keep it up. The others won't be long. Stay
+with&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He broke off in alarm as he felt his arm suddenly clutched from behind.
+Simultaneously he felt heavy breathing blowing upon his cheek. Quick as
+a flash his revolver was whipped out and he swung round.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Easy, sergeant,&quot; said the voice of one of his troopers. &quot;For Gawd's
+sake don't shoot. Say, Retief's down at the settlement. A messenger's
+jest come up to say he's 'hustled' all our horses from Lablache's
+stable, and the old man himself's in trouble. Come over to that bluff
+yonder, the messenger's there. He's one of Lablache's clerks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The police-officer was dumbfounded, and permitted himself to be
+conducted to the bluff without a word. He was wondering if he were
+dreaming, so sudden and unexpected was the announcement of the disaster.</p>
+
+<p>When he halted at the bluff, the clerk was still discussing the affair
+with one of the troopers. As yet the other two were in their places of
+concealment, and were in ignorance of what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's dead right,&quot; the clerk said, in answer to Horrocks's sharply-put
+inquiry. &quot;I'd been in bed sometime when I was awakened by a terrible
+racket going on in the office. It's just under the room I sleep in.
+Well, I hopped out of bed and slipped on some clothes, and went
+downstairs, thinking the governor had been taken with a fit or
+something. When I got down the office was in darkness, and quiet as
+death. I went cautiously to work, for I was a bit scared. Striking a
+light I made my way in, expecting to find the governor laid out, but,
+instead, I found the furniture all chucked about and the room empty. It
+wasn't two shakes before I lit upon this sheet of paper. It was lying on
+the desk. The governor's writing is unmistakable. You can see for
+yourself; here it is&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks took the sheet, and, by the light of a match read the scrawl
+upon it. The writing had evidently been done in haste, but its meaning
+was clear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Retief is here,&quot; it ran. &quot;I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.
+LABLACHE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>After reading, Horrocks turned to the clerk, who immediately went on
+with his story.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I just bolted out to the stables intending to take a horse and go
+over to 'Poker' John's. But when I got there I found the doors open, an'
+every blessed horse gone. Yes, your horses as well&mdash;and the governor's
+buckboard too. I jest had a look round, saw that the team harness had
+gone with the rest, then I ran as hard as I could pelt to the Foss River
+Ranch. I found old John up, but he'd been drinking, so, after a bit of
+talk, I learned from him where you were and came right along. That's
+all, sergeant, and bad enough it is too. I'm afraid they'll string the
+governor up. He ain't too popular, you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The clerk finished up his breathless narrative in a way that left no
+doubt in the mind of his hearers as to his sincerity. He was trembling
+with nervous excitement still. And even in the starlight the look upon
+his face spoke of real concern for his master.</p>
+
+<p>For some seconds the officer did not reply. He was thinking rapidly. To
+say that he was chagrined would hardly convey his feelings. He had been
+done&mdash;outwitted&mdash;and he knew it. Done&mdash;like the veriest tenderfoot. He,
+an officer of wide experience and of considerable reputation. And worst
+of all he remembered Lablache's warning. He, the money-lender, had been
+more far-seeing&mdash;had understood something of the trap which he,
+Horrocks, had plunged headlong into. The thought was as worm-wood to the
+prairie man, and helped to cloud his judgment as he now sought for the
+best course to adopt. He saw now with bitter, mental self-reviling, how
+the story that Gautier had told him&mdash;and for which he had paid&mdash;and
+which had been corroborated by the conversation he had heard in the
+camp, had been carefully prepared by the wily Retief; and how he, like a
+hungry, simple fish, had deliberately risen and devoured the bait. He
+was maddened by the thought, too, that the money-lender had been right
+and he wrong, and took but slight solace from the fact that the chief
+disaster had overtaken that great man.</p>
+
+<p>However, it was plain that something must be done at once to assist
+Lablache, and he cast about in his mind for the best means to secure the
+money-lender's release. In his dilemma a recollection came to him of the
+presence of Jacky Allandale in the barn, and a feeling nearly akin to
+revenge came to him. He felt that in some way this girl was connected
+with, and knew of, the doings of Retief.</p>
+
+<p>With a hurried order to remain where they were to his men he returned to
+his station at the window of the barn. He looked in, searching for the
+familiar figure of the girl. Dancing had ceased, and the howling Breeds
+were drinking heavily. Jacky was no longer to be seen, and, with bitter
+disappointment, he turned again to rejoin his companions. There was
+nothing left to do but to hasten to the settlement and procure fresh
+horses.</p>
+
+<p>He had hardly turned from the window when several shots rang out on the
+night air. They came from the direction in which he was moving.
+Instantly he comprehended that an attack was being made upon his
+troopers. He drew his pistol and dashed forward at a run. Three paces
+sufficed to terminate his race. Silence had followed the firing of the
+shots he had heard. Suddenly his quick ears detected the hiss of a
+lariat whistling through the air. He spread out his arms to ward it off.
+He felt something fall upon them. He tried to throw it off, and, the
+next instant the rope jerked tight round his throat, and he was hurled,
+choking, backwards upon the ground.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX" />CHAPTER XIX - LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lablache was alone in his office. He was more alone than he had ever
+been in his life; or, at least, he felt more alone&mdash;which amounted to
+much the same thing. Possibly, had he been questioned on the subject, he
+would have pooh-poohed the idea, but, nevertheless, in his secret heart
+he felt that, in spite of his vast wealth, he was a lonely man. He knew
+that he had not a single friend in Foss River; and in Calford, another
+center of his great wealth, things were no better. His methods of
+business, whilst they brought him many familiar acquaintances&mdash;a large
+circle of people who were willing to trade, repelled all approach to
+friendship. Besides, his personality was against him. His flinty
+disposition and unscrupulous love of power were all detrimental to human
+affection.</p>
+
+<p>As a rule, metaphorically speaking, he snapped his fingers at these
+things. Moreover, he was glad that such was the case; he could the more
+freely indulge his passion for grab. Hated, he could work out his
+peculiar schemes without qualms of conscience; loved, it would have been
+otherwise. Yes, Lablache preferred this social ostracism.</p>
+
+<p>But the great money-lender had his moments of weakness&mdash;moments when he
+rebelled against his solitary lot. He knew that his isolated position
+had been brought about by himself&mdash;fostered by himself, and he knew he
+preferred that it should be so. But, nevertheless, at times he felt very
+lonely, and in these moments of weakness he wondered if he obtained full
+consolation in his great wealth for his marooned position. Generally the
+result of these reflections brought him satisfaction. How? is a
+question. Possibly he forced himself, by that headstrong power with
+which he bent others who came into contact with him to his will, to such
+a conclusion. Lablache was certainly a triumph of relentless purpose
+over flesh and feelings.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was nearly fifty, and had lived alone since he was in his
+teens. Now he pined as all who live a solitary life must some day pine,
+for a companion to share his loneliness. He craved not for the society
+of his own sex. With the instinct in us all he wanted a mate to share
+with him his golden nest. But this mass of iron nerve and obesity was
+not as other men. He did not weakly crave, and then, with his wealth,
+set out to secure a wife who could raise him in the social scale, or add
+to the bags which he had watched grow in bulk from flattened folds of
+sacking, to the distended proportions of miniature balloons. No, he
+desired a girl, the only relation of a man whom he had helped to ruin&mdash;a
+girl who could bring him no social distinction, and who could not add
+one penny piece to his already enormous wealth. Moreover, strangely
+enough, he had conceived for her a passion which was absolutely unholy
+in its intensity. It is needless, then, to add, when, speaking of such a
+man, that, willing or not, he intended that Jacky Allandale should be
+his.</p>
+
+<p>Thoughts of this wild, quarter-breed girl filled his brain as he sat
+solitary in his little office on the night of the pusky. He sat in his
+favorite chair, in his favorite position. He was lounging back with his
+slippered feet resting on the burnished steel foot-rests of the stove.
+There was no fire in the stove, of course, but from force of habit he
+gazed thoughtfully at the mica sides which surrounded the firebox.
+Probably in this position he had thought out some of his most dastardly
+financial schemes and therefore most suitable it seemed now as he
+calculated his chances of capturing the wild prairie girl for his mate.</p>
+
+<p>He had given up all thoughts of ever obtaining her willing consent, and,
+although his vanity had been hurt by her rejection of his advances,
+still he was not the man to be easily thwarted. His fertile brain had
+evolved a means by which to achieve his end, and, to his scheme-loving
+nature, the process was anything but distasteful. He had always, from
+the first moment he had decided to make Jacky Allandale his wife, been
+prepared for such a contingency as her refusal, and had never missed an
+opportunity of ensnaring her uncle in his financial toils. He had
+understood the old man's weakness, and, with satanic cunning, had set
+himself to the task of wholesale robbery, with crushing results to his
+victim. This had given him the necessary power to further prosecute his
+suit. As yet he had not displayed his hand. He felt that the time was
+barely ripe. Before putting the screw on the Allandales it had been his
+object to rid the place, and his path, of his only stumbling block. In
+this he had not quite succeeded as we have seen. He quite understood
+that the Hon. Bunning-Ford must be removed from Foss River first. Whilst
+he was on hand Jacky would be difficult to coerce. Instinctively he knew
+that &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was her lover, and, with him at hand to advise her,
+Jacky would hold out to the last. However, he believed that in the end
+he must conquer. Bunning-Ford's resources were very limited he knew, and
+soon his hated rival must leave the settlement and seek pastures new.
+Lablache was but a clever scheming mortal. He did not credit others with
+brains of equal caliber, much less cleverer and more resourceful than
+his own. It had been better for him had his own success in life been
+less assured, for then he would have been more doubtful of his own
+ability to do as he wished, and he would have given his adversaries
+credit for a cleverness which he now considered as only his.</p>
+
+<p>After some time spent in surveying and considering his plans his
+thoughts reverted to other matters. This was the night of the half-breed
+pusky. His great face contorted into a sarcastic smile as he thought of
+Sergeant Horrocks. He remembered with vivid acuteness every incident of
+his interview with the officer two nights ago. He bore the man no
+malice now for the contradiction of himself, for the reason that he was
+sure his own beliefs on the subject of Retief would be amply realized.
+His lashless eyes quivered as his thoughts invoked an inward mirth. No
+one realized more fully than did this man the duplicity and cunning of
+the Breed. He anticipated a great triumph over Horrocks the next time he
+saw him.</p>
+
+<p>As the time passed on he became more himself. His loneliness did not
+strike him so keenly. He felt that after all there was great
+satisfaction to be drawn from a watcher's observance of men. Isolated as
+he was he was enabled to look on men and things more critically than he
+otherwise would be.</p>
+
+<p>He reached over to his tobacco jar, which stood upon his desk, and
+leisurely proceeded to fill his pipe. It was rarely he indulged himself
+in an idle evening, but to-night he somehow felt that idleness would be
+good. He was beginning to feel the weight of his years.</p>
+
+<p>He lit his heavy briar and proceeded to envelop himself in a cloud of
+smoke. He gasped out a great sigh of satisfaction, and his leathery
+eyelids half closed. Presently a gentle tap came at the glass door,
+which partitioned off the office from the store. Lablache called out a
+guttural &quot;Come in,&quot; at the same time glancing at the loud ticking
+&quot;alarm&quot; on the desk. He knew who his visitor was.</p>
+
+<p>One of the clerks opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is past ten, sir, shall I close up?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, close up. Whose evening off is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rodgers, sir. He is still out. He'll be in before midnight, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, down at the saloon, I expect,&quot; said Lablache, drily. &quot;Well, bolt
+the front door. Just leave it on the spring latch. I shall be up until
+he comes in. What are you two boys going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Going to bed, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right; good-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good-night, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The door closed quietly after the clerk, and Lablache heard his two
+assistants close up the store and then go upstairs to their rooms. The
+money-lender was served well. His employees in the store had been with
+him for years. They were worked very hard and their pay was not great,
+but their money was sure, and their employment was all the year round.
+So many billets upon the prairie depended upon the seasons&mdash;opulence one
+month and idleness the next. On the ranches it was often worse. There is
+but little labor needed in the winter. And those who have the good
+fortune to be employed all the year round generally experience a
+reduction in wages at the end of the fall round-up, and find themselves
+doing the &quot;chores&quot; when winter comes on.</p>
+
+<p>After the departure of the clerk Lablache re-settled himself and went on
+smoking placidly. The minutes ticked slowly away. An occasional groan
+from the long-suffering basket chair, and the wreathing clouds of smoke
+were the only appreciable indication of life in that little room.
+By-and-by the great man reached a memorandum tablet from his desk and
+dotted down a few hurried figures. Then he breathed a great sigh, and
+his face wore a look of satisfaction. There could be no doubt as to the
+tenor of his thoughts. Money, money. It was as life to him.</p>
+
+<p>The distant rattle of the spring lock of the store front door being
+snapped-to disturbed the quiet of the office. Lablache heard the sound.
+Then followed the bolting of the door. The money-lender turned again to
+his figures. It was the return of Rodgers, he thought, which had
+disturbed him. He soon became buried in further calculations. While
+figuring he unconsciously listened for the sound of the clerk's
+footsteps on the stairs as he made his way up to his room. The sound did
+not come. The room was clouded with tobacco smoke, and still Lablache
+belched out fresh clouds to augment the reek of the atmosphere. Suddenly
+the glass door opened. The money-lender heard the handle move.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh, what is it, Rodgers?&quot; he said, in a displeased tone. As he spoke
+he peered through the smoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What d'you want?&quot; he exclaimed angrily. Then he rubbed his eyes and
+craned forward only to fall back again with a muttered curse. He had
+stared into the muzzle of a heavy six-shooter.</p>
+
+<p>He moved his hand as though to throw his memorandum pad on the desk, but
+instantly a stern voice ordered him to desist and the threatening
+revolver came closer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jest stay right thar, pard.&quot; The words were spoken in an exaggerated
+Western drawl. &quot;My barker's mighty light in the trigger. I guess it
+don't take a hundred-weight to loose it. And I don't cotton to mucking
+up this floor with yer vitals.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache remained still. He saw before him the tall thin figure of a
+half-breed. He had black lank hair which hung loosely down almost on to
+his shoulders. His face was the color of mud, and he was possessed of a
+pair of keen gray eyes and a thin-hooked nose. His face wore a lofty
+look of command, and was stamped by an expression of the unmost
+resolution. He spoke easily and showed not the smallest haste.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess we ain't met before, boss&mdash;not familiar-like, leastways. My
+name's Retief&mdash;Peter Retief, an' I take it yours is Lablache. Now I've
+jest come right along to do biz with you&mdash;how does that fit your
+bowels?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The compelling ring of metal faced the astonished money-lender. For the
+moment he remained speechless.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wal?&quot; drawled the other, with elaborate significance.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache struggled for words. His astonishment&mdash;dismay made the effort a
+difficult one.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You've got the drop on me you&mdash;you damned scoundrel,&quot; he at last burst
+out, his face for the moment purpling with rage. &quot;I'm forced to listen
+to you now,&quot; he went on more gutturally, as the paroxysm having found
+vent began to pass, &quot;but watch yourself that you make no bad reckoning,
+or you'll regret this business until the rope's round your neck. You'll
+get nothing out of me&mdash;but what you take. Now then, be sharp. What are
+you going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed grinned.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're mighty raw oh the hide jest now, I guess. But see hyar, my
+reckonin's are nigh as slick as yours. An' jest slant yer tongue some.
+'Damned scoundrel' sliden' from yer flannel face is like a coyote
+roundin' on a timber wolf, an' a coyote ain't as low down as a skunk. I
+opine I want a deal from you,&quot; Retief went on, with a hollow laugh, &quot;and
+wot I want I mostly git, in these parts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was no coward. And even now he had not the smallest fear for
+his life. But the thought of being bluffed by the very man he was
+willing to pay so much for the capture of riled him almost beyond
+endurance. The Breed noted the effect of his words and pushed his pistol
+almost to within arm's reach of the money-lender's face.</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed's face suddenly became stem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's a dandy ranch of yours down south. Me an' my pards 'ave taken a
+notion to it. Say, you're comin' right along with us. Savee? Guess we'll
+show you the slickest round up this side o' the border. Now jest sit
+right thar while I let my mates in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Retief took no chances. Lablache, under pistol compulsion, was forced to
+remain motionless in his chair. The swarthy Breed backed cautiously to
+the door until his hand rested upon the spring catch. This, with deft
+fingers, he turned and then forced back, and the next moment he was
+joined by two companions as dark as himself and likewise dressed in the
+picturesque garb of the prairie &quot;hustler.&quot; The money-lender, in spite of
+his predicament, was keenly alert, and lost no detail of the new-comers'
+appearance. He took a careful mental photograph of each of the men,
+trusting that he might find the same useful in the future. He wondered
+what the next move would be. He eyed the Breed's pistol furtively, and
+thought of his own weapon lying on his desk at the corner farthest from
+him. He knew there was no possible chance of reaching it. The slightest
+unbidden move on his part would mean instant death. He understood, only
+too well, how lightly human, life was held by these people. Implicit
+obedience alone could save him. In those few thrilling moments he had
+still time to realize the clever way in which both he and Horrocks had
+been duped. He had never for a moment believed in Gautier's story, but
+had still less dreamed of such a daring outrage as was now being
+perpetrated. He had not long to wait for developments. Directly the two
+men were inside, and the door was again closed, Retief pointed to the
+money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hustle, boys&mdash;the rope. Lash his feet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One of the men produced an old lariat In a trice the great man's feet
+were fast.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His hands?&quot; said one of the men.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess not. He's goin' to write, some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache instantly thought of his cheque-book. But Retief had no fancy
+for what he considered was useless paper.</p>
+
+<p>The hustler stepped over to the desk. His keen eyes spotted the
+money-lender's pistol lying upon the far corner of it. He had also noted
+his prisoner casting furtive glances in the direction of it. To prevent
+any mischance he picked the gleaming weapon up and slipped it into his
+hip pocket. After that he drew a sheet of foolscap from the stationery
+case and laid it on the blotting pad. Then he turned to his comrades.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jest help old money-bags over,&quot; he said quietly. He was thoroughly
+alert, and as calmly indifferent to the danger of discovery as if he
+were engaged on the most righteous work.</p>
+
+<p>When Lablache had been hoisted and pushed into position at the desk the
+raider took up a pen and held it out towards him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write,&quot; he said laconically.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache hesitated. He looked from the pen to the man's leveled pistol.
+Then he reluctantly took the pen. The half-breed promptly dictated, and
+the other wrote. The compulsion was exasperating, and the great man
+scrawled with all the pettishness of a child.</p>
+
+<p>The message read&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Retief is here. I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now sign,&quot; said the Breed, when the message was written.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache signed and flung down the pen.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's that for?&quot; he demanded huskily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For?&quot; His captor shrugged. &quot;I guess them gophers of police are snugly
+trussed by now. Mebbe, though, one o' them might 'a' got clear away.
+When they find you're gone, they'll light on that paper. I jest want 'em
+to come right along after us. Savee? It'll 'most surprise 'em when they
+come along.&quot; Then he turned to his men. &quot;Now, boys, lash his hands, and
+cut his feet adrift. Then, into the buckboard with him. Guess his
+carcase is too bulky for any 'plug' to carry. Get a hustle on, lads.
+We've hung around here long enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The men stepped forward to obey their chief, but, at that moment,
+Lablache gave another display of that wonderful agility of his of which,
+at times, he was capable. His rage got the better of him, and even under
+the muzzle of his captor's pistol he was determined to resist. We have
+said that the money-lender was no coward; at that moment he was
+desperate.</p>
+
+<p>The nearest Breed received a terrific buffet in the neck, then, in spite
+of his bound feet, Lablache seized his heavy swivel chair, and, raising
+it with all his strength he hurled it at the other. Still Relief's
+pistol was silent. The money-lender noticed the fact, and he became even
+more assured. He turned heavily and aimed a blow at the &quot;hustler.&quot; But,
+even as he struck, he felt the weight of Retief's hand, and struggling
+to steady himself&mdash;his bound feet impeding him&mdash;he overbalanced and fell
+heavily to the ground. In an instant the Breeds were upon him. His own
+handkerchief was used to gag him, and his hands were secured. Then,
+without a moment's delay, he was hoisted from the floor&mdash;his great
+weight bearing his captors down&mdash;and carried bodily out of the office
+and thrown into his own buckboard, which was waiting at the door. Retief
+sprang into the driving seat whilst one of the Breeds held the prisoner
+down, some other dark figures leapt into the saddles of several waiting
+horses, and the party dashed off at a breakneck speed.</p>
+
+<p>The gleaming stars gave out more than sufficient light for the desperate
+teamster. He swung the well-fed, high-mettled horses of the money-lender
+round, and headed right through the heart of the settlement. The
+audacity of this man was superlative. He lashed the animals into a
+gallop which made the saddle horses extend themselves to keep up. On, on
+into the night they raced, and almost in a flash the settlement was
+passed. The sleepy inhabitants of Foss River heard the mad racing of the
+horses but paid no heed. The daring of the raider was his safeguard.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache knew their destination. They were traveling southward, and he
+felt that their object was his own ranch.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX" />CHAPTER XX - A NIGHT OF TERROR</h2>
+
+
+<p>That midnight drive was one long nightmare to the unfortunate captive.
+He had been thrown, sprawling, into the iron-railed &quot;carryall&quot; platform
+at the back of the buckboard, and lay on the nut-studded slats, where he
+was jolted and bumped about like the proverbial pea on a drum.</p>
+
+<p>When the raider changed his direction, and turned off the trail on to
+the open prairie, the horrors of the prisoner's position were
+intensified a hundredfold. Alone, there was insufficient room for the
+suffering man in the limited space of the &quot;carryall,&quot; but beside him
+sat, or rather crouched, a burly Breed, ready at a moment's notice to
+quash any attempt at escape on the part of the wretched money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>Thus he was borne along, mile after mile, southward towards his own
+ranch. Sometimes during that terrible ride Lablache found time to wonder
+what was the object of these people in thus kidnapping him. Surely if
+they only meant to carry off his cattle, such a task could have been
+done without bringing him along with them. It seemed to him that there
+could be only one interpretation put upon the matter, and, in spite of
+his present agonies, the great man shuddered as he thought.</p>
+
+<p>Courageous as he was, he endured a period of mental agony which took all
+the heart out of him. He understood the methods of the prairie so well
+that he feared the very worst. A tree&mdash;a lariat&mdash;and he saw, in fancy, a
+crowd of carrion swarming round his swinging body. He could conceive no
+other object, and his nerves became racked almost to breaking pitch.</p>
+
+<p>The real truth of the situation was beyond his wildest dreams. The
+significance of the fact that this second attack was made against him
+was lost upon the wretched man. He only seemed to realize with natural
+dread that Retief&mdash;the terror of the countryside&mdash;was in this, therefore
+the outcome must surely be the very worst.</p>
+
+<p>At length the horses drew up at Lablache's lonely ranch. His nearest
+neighbor was not within ten miles of him. With that love of power and
+self aggrandisement which always characterized him, the money-lender had
+purchased from the Government a vast tract of country, and retained
+every acre of it for his own stock. It might have stood him in good
+stead now had he let portions of his grazing, and so settled up the
+district. As it was, his ranch was characteristic of himself&mdash;isolated;
+and he knew that Retief could here work his will with little chance of
+interference.</p>
+
+<p>As Lablache was hoisted from the buckboard and set upon his feet, and
+the gag was removed from his mouth, the first thing he noticed was the
+absolute quiescence of the place. He wondered if his foreman and the
+hands were yet sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>He was not long left in doubt. Retief gave a few rapid orders to his
+men, and as he did so Lablache observed, for the first time, that the
+Breeds numbered at least half-a-dozen. He felt sure that not more than
+four besides their chief had traveled with them, and yet now the number
+had increased.</p>
+
+<p>The obvious conclusion was that the others were already here at the time
+of the arrival of the buckboard, doubtless with the purpose of carrying
+out Retief's plans.</p>
+
+<p>The Breeds moved off in various directions, and their chief and the
+money-lender were left alone. As soon as the others were out of earshot
+the raider approached his captive. His face seemed to have undergone
+some subtle change. The lofty air of command had been replaced by a look
+of bitter hatred and terrible cruelty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Lablache,&quot; he said coldly, &quot;I guess you're goin' to see some fun.
+I ain't mostly hard on people. I like to do the thing han'some. Say
+I'll jest roll this bar'l 'long so as you ken set. An' see hyar, ef
+you're mighty quiet I'll loose them hands o' yours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache deigned no reply, but the other was as good as his word.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sulky, some, I guess,&quot; the half-breed went on. &quot;Wal, I'm not goin' back
+on my word,&quot; he added as he rolled the barrel up to his prisoner and
+scotched it securely. &quot;Thar, set.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender didn't move.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Set!&quot; This time the word conveyed a command and the other sat down on
+the barrel.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I can't stand cantankerous cusses. Now, let's have a look at yer
+bracelets.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He sat beside his captive and proceeded to loosen the rope which bound
+his wrists. Then he quietly drew his pistol and rested it on his knee.
+Lablache enjoyed his freedom, but wondered what was coming next.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of silence while the two men gazed at the corrals and
+buildings set out before them. Away to the right, on a rising ground,
+stood a magnificent house built of red pine lumber. Lablache had built
+this as a dwelling for himself. For the prairie it was palatial, and
+there was nothing in the country to equal it. This building alone had
+cost sixty thousand dollars. On a lower level there were the great
+barns. Four or five of these stood linked up by smaller buildings and
+quarters for the ranch hands. Then there was a stretch of low buildings
+which were the boxes built for the great man's thoroughbred stud horses.
+He was possessed of six such animals, and their aggregate cost ran into
+thousands of pounds, each one having been imported from England.</p>
+
+<p>Then there were the corrals with their great ten-foot walls, all built
+of the finest pine logs cut from the mountain forests. These corrals
+covered acres of ground and were capable of sheltering five thousand
+head of cattle without their capacity being taxed. It was an ideal place
+and represented a considerable fortune. Lablache noticed that the
+corrals were entirely empty. He longed to ask his captor for
+explanation, but would not give that swarthy individual the satisfaction
+of imparting unpleasant information.</p>
+
+<p>However, Retief did not intend to let the money-lender off lightly. The
+cruel expression of his face deepened as he followed the direction of
+Lablache's gaze.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fine place, this,&quot; he said, with a comprehensive nod. &quot;Cost a pile o'
+dollars, I take it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You ain't got much stock. Guess the boys 'ave helped themselves
+liberal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache turned his face towards his companion. He was fast being drawn.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Heard 'em gassin' about twenty thousand head some days back. Guess
+they've borrowed 'em,&quot; he went on indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You villain!&quot; the exasperated prisoner hissed at last.</p>
+
+<p>If ever a look conveyed a lust for murder Lablache's lashless eyes
+expressed it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh? What? Guess you ain't well.&quot; The icy tones mocked at the distraught
+captive.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My cattle are on the range. You could never have driven off twenty
+thousand head. It would have been impossible without my hearing of it.
+It is more than one night's work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so,&quot; replied the half-breed, smiling sardonically. &quot;Say, your
+hands and foreman are shut up in their shack. They've bin taking things
+easy fur a day or two. Jest to give my boys a free hand. Guess we've
+been at work here these three days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender groaned inwardly. He understood the Breed's meaning
+only too well. At last his bottled-up rage broke out again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you man or devil that you spirit away great herds like this.
+Across the keg, I know, but how&mdash;how? Twenty thousand! My God, you'll
+swing for this night's work,&quot; he went on impotently. &quot;The whole
+countryside will be after you. I am not the man to sit down quietly
+under such handling. If I spend every cent I'm possessed of, you shall
+be hounded down until you dare not show your face on this side of the
+border.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Easy, boss,&quot; the Breed retorted imperturbably. &quot;Ef you want to see that
+precious store o' yours again a civil tongue 'll help you best. I'm
+mostly a patient man&mdash;easy goin'-like. Now jest keep calm an' I'll let
+you see the fun. Now that's a neat shack o' yours,&quot; he went on, pointing
+to the money-lender's mansion. &quot;Wonder ef I could put a dose o' lead
+into one o' the windows from here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache began to think he was dealing with a madman. He remained
+silent, and the Breed leveled his pistol in the direction of the house
+and fired. A moment's silence followed the sharp report. Then Retief
+turned to his captive.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I didn't hear any glass smash. Likely I missed it,&quot; and he
+chuckled fiendishly. Lablache sat gazing moodily at the building. Then
+the half-breed's voice roused him. &quot;Hello, wot's that?&quot; He was pointing
+at the house. &quot;Why, some galoot's lightin' a bonfire! Say, that's
+dangerous Lablache. They might fire your place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But the other did not answer. His eyes were staring wide with horror. As
+if in answer to the pistol-shot a fire had been lit against the side of
+the house. It was no ordinary fire, either, but a great pile of hay. The
+flames shot up with terrible swiftness, licking up the side of the red
+pine house with lightning rapidity. Lablache understood. The house was
+to be demolished, and Retief had given the signal. He leapt up from his
+seat, forgetful of his bound feet, and made as though to seize the Breed
+by the throat. He got no further, however, for Retief gripped him by the
+shoulder, and, notwithstanding his great bulk, hurled him back on to the
+barrel, at the same time pressing the muzzle of his pistol into his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Set down, you scum,&quot; he thundered. &quot;Another move like that an' I'll
+let the atmosphere into yer.&quot; Then with a Sudden return to his grim
+pastime, as the other remained quiet, &quot;Say, red pine makes powerful fine
+kindlin'. I reckon they'll see that light at the settlement. You don't
+seem pleased, man. Ain't it a beaut. Look, they've started it the other
+side. Now the smoke stack's caught. Burn, burn, you beauty. Look,
+Lablache, a sixty thousand dollar fire, an' all yours. Ain't you proud
+to think that it's all yours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was speechless with horror. Words failed to express his
+feelings. The Breed watched him as a tiger might contemplate its
+helpless prey. He understood something of the agony the great man was
+suffering. He wanted him to suffer&mdash;he meant him to suffer. But he had
+only just begun the torture he had so carefully prepared for his victim.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the roof of the building crashed in, and, for the moment, the
+blaze leapt high. Then, soon, it began to die down. Retief seemed to
+tire of watching the dying blaze. He turned again to his prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not 'nough, eh? Not 'nough. We can't stop here all night. Let's have
+the rest. The sight'll warm your heart.&quot; And he laughed at his own grim
+pleasantry. &quot;The boys have cleared out your stud 'plugs.' And, I guess,
+yer barns are chocked full of yer wheel gearing and implements. Say, I
+guess we'll have 'em next.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned from his silent captive without waiting for reply, and rapidly
+discharged the remaining five barrels of his pistol. For answer another
+five bonfires were lighted round the barns and corals. Almost instantly
+the whole place became a gorgeous blaze of light. The entire ranch, with
+the exception of one little shack was now burning as only pine wood can
+burn. It was a terrible, never-to-be-forgotten sight, and Lablache
+groaned audibly as he saw the pride of his wealth rapidly gutted. If
+ever a man suffered the money-lender suffered that night Retief showed
+a great understanding of his prisoner&mdash;far too great an understanding
+for a man who was supposed to be a stranger to Lablache&mdash;in the way he
+set about to torture his victim. No bodily pain could have equaled the
+mental agony to which the usurer was submitted. The sight of the
+demolishing of his beautiful ranch&mdash;probably the most beautiful in the
+country&mdash;was a cruelly exquisite torture to the money-loving man. That
+dread conflagration represented the loss to him of a fortune, for, with
+grasping pusillanimity, Lablache had refused to insure his property. Had
+Retief known this he could not have served his own purpose better.
+Possibly he did know, and possibly that was the inducement which
+prompted his action. Truly was the money-lender paying dearly for past
+misdeeds. With the theft of his cattle and the burning of his ranch his
+loss was terrible, and, in his moment of anguish, he dared not attempt
+to calculate the extent of the catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>When the fire was at its height Retief again addressed his taunting
+language to the man beside him, and Lablache writhed under the lash of
+that scathing tongue.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've heerd tell you wer' mighty proud of this place of yours. Spent
+piles o' bills on it. Nothin' like circulatin' cash, I guess. Say now,
+how long did it take you to fix them shacks up?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No answer. Lablache was beyond mere words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A sight longer than it takes a bit of kindlin' to fetch 'em down, I
+take it,&quot; he went on placidly. &quot;When d'ye think you'll start
+re-building? I wonder,&quot; thoughtfully, &quot;why they don't fire that shed
+yonder,&quot; pointing to the only building left untouched. &quot;Ah, I was
+forgettin', that's whar your hands are enjoyin' themselves. It's
+thoughtful o' the boys. I guess they're good lads. They don't cotton to
+killin' prairie hands. But they ain't so particular over useless lumps
+o' flesh, I guess,&quot; with a glance at the stricken man beside him.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was gasping heavily. The mental strain was almost more than he
+could bear, and his crushed and hopeless attitude brought a satanic
+smile on the cruel face beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You don't seem to fancy things much,&quot; Retief went on. &quot;Guess you ain't
+enjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like this
+fur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?&quot; as the barrel on which they were
+seated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. &quot;I hadn't a
+notion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Them
+barns,&quot; he added, pointing, towards the fire, &quot;was built mighty solid.
+They're on'y jest cavin'.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache remained silent. Words, he felt, would be useless. In fact it
+is doubtful if he would have been equal to expression. His spirit was
+crushed and he feared the man beside him as he had never feared any
+human being before. Such was the nervous strain put upon him that the
+sense of his loss was rapidly absorbed in a dread for his own personal
+safety. The conflagration had lost its fascination for him, and at every
+move&mdash;every word&mdash;of his captor he dreaded the coming of his own end. It
+was a physical and mental collapse, and bordered closely on frenzied
+terror. It was no mental effort of his own that kept him from hurling
+himself upon the other and biting and tearing in a vain effort to rend
+the life out of him. The thought&mdash;the fever, desire, craving&mdash;was there,
+but the will, the personality, of the Breed held him spellbound, an
+inert mass of flesh incapable of physical effort&mdash;incapable almost of
+thought, but a prey to an overwhelming terror.</p>
+
+<p>The watching half-breed at length rose from his seat and shrugged his
+thin, stooping shoulders. He had had enough of his pastime, and time was
+getting on. He had other work to do before daylight. He put his hand to
+his mouth and imitated the cry of the coyote. An instant later answering
+cries came from various directions, and presently the Breeds gathered
+round their chief.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, bring up the 'plugs,' lads. The old boy's had his bellyfull. I
+guess we'll git on.&quot; Then he turned upon the broken money-lender and
+spoke while he re-charged the chambers of his pistol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar, Lablache, this night's work is on'y a beginning. So long as
+you live in Foss River Settlement so long will I hunt you out an' hustle
+yer stock. You talked of houndin' me, but I guess the shoe's on the
+other foot. I ain't finished by a sight, an' you'll hear from me agin'.
+I don't fancy yer life,&quot; he went on with a grin. &quot;Et's too easy, I
+guess. Et's yer bills I'm after. Ye've got plenty an' to spare. But
+bills is all-fired awk'ud to handle when they pass thro' your dirty
+hands. So I'll wait till you've turned 'em into stock. Savee? I'm jest
+goin' right on now. Thar's a bunch o' yer steers waitin' to be taken
+off. Happen I'm goin' to see to 'em right away. One o' these lads'll
+jest set some bracelets on yer hands, and leave yer tucked up and
+comfortable so you can't do any harm, and you can set right thar an'
+wait till some 'un comes along an' looses yer. So long, pard, an'
+remember, Foss River's the hottest place outside o' hell fur you, jest
+now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Some of the half-breeds had brought up the horses whilst Retief was
+talking, and, as he finished speaking, the hustler vaulted on to the
+back of the great chestnut, Golden Eagle, and prepared to ride away.
+Whilst the others were getting into their saddles he took one look at
+the wretched captive whose hands had been again secured. There was a
+swift exchange of glances&mdash;malevolent and murderous on the part of the
+money-lender, and derisive on the part of the half-breed&mdash;then Retief
+swung his charger round, and, at the head of his men, galloped away out
+into the starry night.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI" />CHAPTER XXI - HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG</h2>
+
+
+<p>The rope which brought Horrocks to the ground came near to strangling
+him. He struggled wildly as he fell, and, as he struggled, the grip of
+the rope tightened. He felt that the blood was ready to burst from his
+temples and eyes. Then everything seemed to swim about him and he
+believed consciousness was leaving him. Everything was done in a moment
+and yet he seemed to be passing through an eternity of time.</p>
+
+<p>The lariat is a handy weapon, but to truly appreciate its merits one
+must be a prairie man. The Breeds are prairie men. They understand fully
+the uses to which a &quot;rope&quot; may be put. For criminal purposes they
+appreciate its silent merits, and the dexterity with which they can use
+it makes its value equal to, and even surpass, the noisier and more
+tell-tale pistol.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing that the policeman knew was that he was stretched on his
+back upon the ground, disarmed, and with a great bandanna secured about
+his eyes and mouth, and his hands tied behind his back. Then a gruff
+voice bade him rise, and, as he silently obeyed, he was glad to feel
+that the gripping lariat was removed from his throat. Truly had the
+officer's pride gone before a fall. And his feelings were now of the
+deepest chagrin. He stood turning his head from side to side, blindly
+seeking to penetrate the bandage about his eyes. He knew where he was,
+of course, but he would have given half his year's salary for a sight of
+his assailants.</p>
+
+<p>He was not given long for his futile efforts. The same rough voice
+which had bade him rise now ordered him to walk, and he found himself
+forced forward by the aid of a heavy hand which gripped one of his arms.
+The feeling of a blindfold walk is not a happy one, and the officer
+experienced a strange sensation of falling as he was urged he knew not
+whither. After a few steps he was again halted, and then he felt himself
+seized from behind and lifted bodily into a conveyance.</p>
+
+<p>He quickly realized that he was in a buckboard. The slats which formed
+the body of it, as his feet lit upon them, told him this. Then two men
+jumped in after him and he found himself seated between them. And so he
+was driven off.</p>
+
+<p>In justice to Horrocks it must be said that he experienced no fear.
+True, his chagrin was very great. He saw only too plainly what want of
+discretion he had displayed in trusting to the Breed's story, but he
+felt that his previous association with the rascal warranted his
+credulity, and the outcome must be regarded as the fortune of war. He
+only wondered what strange experience this blindfold journey was to
+forerun. There was not the least doubt in his mind as to whose was the
+devising of this well-laid and well-carried-out plot. Retief, he knew,
+must be answerable for the plan, and the method displayed in its
+execution plainly showed him that every detail had been carefully
+thought out, and administered by only too willing hands. That there was
+more than ordinary purpose in this blindfold journey he felt assured,
+and he racked his brains to discover the desperado's object. He even
+found time to speculate as to how it had fared with his men, only here
+he was even more at a loss than in the case of his own ultimate fate.</p>
+
+<p>In less than half an hour from the time of his capture the buckboard
+drew up beside some bush. Horrocks knew it was a bluff. He could hear
+the rustle of the leaves as they fluttered in the gentle night air. Then
+he was unceremoniously hustled to the ground, and, equally
+unceremoniously, urged forward until his feet trod upon the stubbly,
+breaking undergrowth. Next he was brought to a stand and swung round,
+face about, his bonds were removed, and four powerful hands gripped his
+arms. By these he was drawn backwards until he bumped against a
+tree-trunk. His hands were then again made fast, but this time his arms
+embraced the tree behind him. In this manner he was securely trussed.</p>
+
+<p>Now from behind&mdash;his captors were well behind him&mdash;a hand reached over,
+and, by a swift movement, removed the bandage from before his eyes.
+Then, before he had time to turn his head, he heard a scrambling through
+the bush, and, a moment later, the sound of the creaking buckboard
+rapidly receding. He was left alone; and, after one swift, comprehensive
+survey, to his surprise, he found himself facing the wire-spreading
+muskeg, at the very spot where he had given up further pursuit of the
+cattle whose &quot;spur&quot; he had traced down to the brink of the viscid mire.</p>
+
+<p>His astonishment rendered him oblivious to all else. He merely gazed out
+across that deceptive flat and wondered. Why&mdash;why had this thing been
+done, and what strange freak had induced the &quot;hustler&quot; to conceive such
+a form of imprisonment for his captive? Horrocks struggled with his
+confusion, but he failed to fathom the mystery, and never was a man's
+confusion worse confounded than was his.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he bethought him of his bonds, and he cautiously tried them.
+They were quite unyielding, and, at each turn of his arms, they caused
+him considerable pain. The Breeds had done their work well, and he
+realized that he must wait the raider's pleasure. He was certain of one
+thing, however, which brought him a slight amount of comfort. He had
+been brought here for a definite purpose. Moreover, he did not believe
+that he was to be left here alone for long. So, with resignation induced
+by necessity, he possessed himself of what patience he best could
+summon.</p>
+
+<p>How long that solitary vigil lasted Horrocks had no idea. Time, in that
+predicament, was to him of little account. He merely wondered and
+waited. He considered himself more than fortunate that his captors had
+seen fit to remove the bandage from his eyes. In spite of his painful
+captivity he felt less helpless from the fact that he could see what
+might be about him.</p>
+
+<p>From a general survey his attention soon became riveted upon the muskeg
+spread out before him, and, before long, his thoughts turned to the
+secret path which he knew, at some point near by, bridged the silent
+horror. All about him was lit by the starry splendor of the sky. The
+scent of the redolent grass of the great keg hung heavily upon the air
+and smelt sweet in his nostrils. He could see the ghostly outline of the
+distant peaks of the mountains, he could hear the haunting cries of
+nightfowl and coyote; but these things failed to interest him.
+Familiarity with the prairie made them, to him, commonplace. The
+path&mdash;the secret of the great keg. That was the absorbing thought which
+occupied his waiting moments. He felt that its discovery would more than
+compensate for any blunders he had made. He strained his keen eyes as he
+gazed at the tall waving grass of the mire, as though to tear from the
+bosom of the awful swamp the secret it so jealously guarded. He slowly
+surveyed its dark surface, almost inch by inch, in the hopes of
+discovering the smallest indication or difference which might lead to
+the desired end.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing in what he saw to guide him, nothing which offered the
+least suggestion of a path. In the darkness the tall waving grass took a
+nondescript hue which reached unbroken for miles around. Occasionally
+the greensward seemed to ripple in the breeze, like water swayed by a
+soft summer zephyr, but beyond this the outlook was uniform&mdash;darkly
+mysterious&mdash;inscrutable.</p>
+
+<p>His arms cramped under the pressure of the restraining bonds and he
+moved uneasily. Now and again the rustling of the leaves overhead caused
+him to listen keenly. Gradually his fancy became slightly distorted,
+and, as time passed, the sounds which had struck so familiarly upon his
+ears, and which had hitherto passed unheeded, began to get upon his
+nerves.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by he found himself listening eagerly for the monotonous
+repetition of the prairie scavenger's dismal howl, and as the cries
+recurred they seemed to grow in power and become more plaintively
+horrible. Now, too, the sighing of the breeze drew more keen attention
+from the imprisoned man, and fancy magnified it into the sound of many
+approaching feet. These matters were the effect of solitude. At such
+times nerves play curious pranks.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his position, in spite of his anxiety of mind, the
+police-officer began to grow drowsy. The long night's vigil was telling,
+and nature rebelled, as she always will rebel when sleep is refused and
+bodily rest is unobtainable. A man may pace his bedroom for hours with
+the unmitigated pain of toothache. Even while the pain is almost
+unendurable his eyes will close and he will continue his peregrinations
+with tottering gait, awake, but with most of his faculties drowsily
+faltering. Horrocks found his head drooping forward, and, even against
+his will, his eyes would close. Time and again he pulled himself
+together, only the next instant to catch himself dozing off again.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, however, he was electrified into life. He was awake now, and
+all drowsiness had vanished. A sound&mdash;distant, rumbling, but
+distinct&mdash;had fallen upon his, for the moment, dulled ears. For awhile
+it likened to the far-off growl of thunder, blending with a steady rush
+of wind. But it was not passing. The sound remained and grew steadily
+louder. A minute passed&mdash;then another and then another. Horrocks stared
+in the direction, listening with almost painful intensity. As the
+rumbling grew, and the sound became more distinct, a light of
+intelligence crept into the prisoner's face. He heard and recognized.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cattle!&quot; he muttered, and in that pronouncement was an inflection of
+joy. &quot;Cattle&mdash;and moving at a great pace.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He was alert now, as alert as he had ever been in his life. Was he at
+last going to discover the coveted secret? Cattle traveling fast at this
+time of night, and in the vicinity of the great keg. What could it mean?
+To his mind there could only be one construction which he could
+reasonably put upon the circumstance. The cattle were being &quot;hustled,&quot;
+and the hustler must be the half-breed Retief.</p>
+
+<p>Then, like a douche of cold water, followed the thought that he had been
+purposely made a prisoner at the edge of the muskeg. Surely he was not
+to be allowed to see the cattle pass over the mire and then be permitted
+to go free. Even Retief in his wildest moments of bravado could not
+meditate so reckless a proceeding. No, there was some subtle purpose
+underlying this new development&mdash;possibly the outcome was to be far more
+grim than he had supposed. He waited horrified, at his own thoughts, but
+fascinated in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>The sound grew rapidly and Horrocks's face remained turned in the
+direction from which it proceeded. He fancied, even in the uncertain
+light, that he could see the distant crowd of beasts silhouetted against
+the sky-line. His post of imprisonment was upon the outskirts of the
+bush, and he had a perfect and uninterrupted view of the prairie along
+the brink of the keg, both to the north and south.</p>
+
+<p>It was his fancy, however, which designed the silhouette, and he soon
+became aware that the herd was nearer than he had supposed. The noise
+had become a continuous roar as the driven beasts came on, and he saw
+them loom towards him a black patch on the dark background of the
+dimly-lit prairie. The bunch was large, but his straining eyes as yet
+could make no estimate of its numbers. He could see several herders, but
+these, too, were as yet beyond recognition.</p>
+
+<p>Yet another surprise was in store for the waiting man. So fixed had his
+attention been upon the on-coming cattle that he had not once removed
+his eyes from the direction of their approach. Now, however, a prolonged
+bellow to the right of him caused him to turn abruptly. To his utter
+astonishment he saw, not fifty yards from him, a solitary horseman
+leading a couple of steers by ropes affixed to their horns. He wondered
+how long this strange apparition had been there. The horse was calmly
+nibbling at the grass, and the man was quietly resting himself with
+elbows propped upon the horn of his saddle. He, too, appeared to be
+gazing in the direction of the on-coming cattle. Horrocks tried hard to
+distinguish the man's appearance, but the light was too uncertain to
+give him more than the vaguest idea of his personality.</p>
+
+<p>The horse seemed to be black or very dark brown. And the general outline
+of the rider was that of a short slight man, with rather long hair which
+flowed from beneath the brim of his Stetson hat. The most curious
+distinguishable feature was his slightness. The horse was big and the
+man, was so small that, as he sat astride of his charger, he looked to
+be little more than a boy of fifteen or sixteen.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks's survey was cut short, however, for now the herd of cattle was
+tearing down upon him at a desperate racing pace. He saw the solitary
+rider gather up his lines and move his horse further away from the edge
+of the muskeg. Then the herd of cattle came along. They raced past the
+bluff where the officer was stationed, accompanied by four swarthy
+drivers, one of which was mounted upon a great chestnut horse whose
+magnificent stride and proportions fixed the captive's attention. He had
+heard of &quot;Golden Eagle,&quot; and he had no doubt in his mind that this was
+he and the rider was the celebrated cattle-thief. The band and its
+drovers swept by, and Horrocks estimated that the cattle numbered many
+hundreds.</p>
+
+<p>After awhile he heard the sound of voices. Then the beasts were driven
+back again over their tracks, only at a more gentle pace. Several times
+the performance was gone through, and each time, as they passed him,
+Horrocks noticed that their pace was decreased, until by the sixth time
+they passed their gait had become a simple mouche, and they leisurely
+nipped up the grass as they went, with bovine unconcern. It was a
+masterly display of how cattle can be handled, and Horrocks forgot for a
+while his other troubles in his interest in the spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>After passing him for the sixth time the cattle came to a halt; and then
+the strangest part of this strange scene was enacted. The horseman with
+the led steers, whom, by this time, Horrocks had almost forgotten, came
+leisurely upon the field of action. No instructions were given. The
+whole thing was done in almost absolute silence. It seemed as if long
+practice had perfected the method of procedure.</p>
+
+<p>The horseman advanced to the brink of the muskeg, exactly opposite to
+the bluff where the captive was tied, and with him the two led steers.
+Horrocks held his breath&mdash;his excitement was intense. The swarthy
+drivers roused the tired cattle and headed them towards the captive
+steers. Horrocks saw the boyish rider urge his horse fearlessly on to
+the treacherous surface of the keg. The now docile and exhausted cattle
+followed leisurely. There was no undue bustle or haste. It was a
+veritable &quot;follow my leader.&quot; Where it was good enough for the captive
+leaders to go it was good enough for the weary beasts to follow, and so,
+as the boy rider moved forward, the great herd followed in twos and
+threes. The four drivers remained until the end, and then, as the last
+steer set foot on the dreadful mire, they too joined in the silent
+procession.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks exerted all his prairie instinct as he watched the course of
+that silent band. He was committing to memory, as far as he was capable,
+the direction of the path across the keg, for, when opportunity offered,
+he was determined to follow up his discovery and attempt the journey
+himself. He fancied in his own secret heart that Retief had at last
+overreached himself, and in thus giving away his secret he was paving
+the way to his own capture.</p>
+
+<p>It was not long before the cattle and their drivers passed out of sight,
+but Horrocks continued to watch, so that he should lose no chance detail
+of interest. At length, however, he found that his straining gaze was
+useless, and all further interest passed out of his lonely vigil.</p>
+
+<p>Now he busied himself with plans for his future movements, when he
+should once more be free. And in such thought the long night passed, and
+the time drew on towards dawn.</p>
+
+<p>The surprises of the night were not yet over, however, for just before
+the first streaks of daylight shot athwart the eastern sky he saw two
+horsemen returning across the muskeg. He quickly recognized them as
+being the raider himself and the boyish rider who had led the cattle
+across the mire. They came across at a good pace, and as they reached
+the bank the officer was disgusted to see the boy ride off in a
+direction away from the settlement, and the raider come straight towards
+the bluff. Horrocks was curious about the boy who seemed so conversant
+with the path across the mire, and was anxious to have obtained a
+clearer view of him.</p>
+
+<p>The raider drew his horse up within a few yards of the captive. Horrocks
+had a good view of the man's commanding, eagle face. In spite of himself
+he could not help but feel a strange admiration for this lawless Breed.</p>
+
+<p>There was something wonderfully fascinating and lofty in the hustler's
+direct, piercing gaze as, proudly disdainful, he looked down upon his
+discomfited prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed in no hurry to speak. A shadowy smile hovered about his face
+as he eyed the officer. Then he turned away and looked over to the
+eastern horizon. He turned back again and drawled out a greeting. It was
+not cordial but it was characteristic of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wal?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks made no reply. The Breed laughed mockingly, and leant forward
+upon the horn of his saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you've satisfied your curiosity&mdash;some. Say, the boys didn't
+handle you too rough, I take it. I told 'em to go light.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks was constrained to retort.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so rough as you'll be handled when you get the law about you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now I call that unfriendly. Guess them's gopher's words. But say, pard,
+the law ain't got me yet. Wot d'ye think of the road across the keg?
+Mighty fine trail that.&quot; He laughed as though enjoying a good joke.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks felt that he must terminate this interview. The Breed had a
+most provoking way with him. His self-satisfaction annoyed his hearer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How much longer do you intend to keep me here?&quot; Horrocks exclaimed
+bitterly. &quot;I suppose you mean murder; you'd better get on with it and
+stop gassing. Men of your kidney don't generally take so much time over
+that sort of business.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Retief seemed quite unruffled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Murder? Why, man, I didn't bring you here to murder you. Guess ef I'd a
+notion that way you'd 'a' been done neat long ago. No, I jest wanted to
+show you what you wanted to find out. Now I'm goin' to let you go, so
+you, an' that skunk Lablache'll be able to chin-wag over this night's
+doin's. That's wot I'm here fer right now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As he finished speaking the Breed circled Golden Eagle round behind the
+tree, and, bending low down from the saddle, he cut the rope which held
+the policeman's wrists. Horrocks, feeling himself freed, stepped quickly
+from the bush into the open, and faced about towards his liberator. As
+he did so he found himself looking up into the muzzle of Retief's
+revolver. He stood his ground unflinchingly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, see hyar, pard,&quot; said Retief, quietly, &quot;I've a mighty fine respect
+for you. You ain't the cuckoo that many o' yer mates is. You've got
+grit, anyway. But that ain't all you need. 'Savee's' a mighty fine
+thing&mdash;on occasions. Now you need 'Savee.' I'll jest give yer a piece of
+advice right hyar. You go straight off down to Lablache's ranch. You'll
+find him thar. An' pesky uncomfortable you'll find him. You ken set him
+free, also his ranch boys, an' when you've done that jest make tracks
+for Stormy Cloud an' don't draw rein till you git thar. Ef ever you see
+Retief on one trail, jest hit right off on to another. That's good sound
+sense right through fur you. Say, work on that, an' you ain't like to
+come to no harm. But I swear, right hyar, ef you an' me ever come to
+close quarters I'll perforate you&mdash;'less you git the drop on me. An' to
+do that'll keep you humpin'. So long, pard. It's jest gettin' daylight,
+ah' I don't calc'late to slouch around hyar when the sun's shinin'.
+Don't go fur to forget my advice. I don't charge nothin' fur it, but
+it's good, pard&mdash;real good, for all that. So long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He swung his horse round, and before Horrocks had time to collect
+himself, much less to speak, he was almost out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>Half dazed and still wondering at the strangeness of the desperate
+Breed's manner he mechanically began to walk slowly in the direction of
+the Foss River Settlement.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII" />CHAPTER XXII - THE DAY AFTER</h2>
+
+
+<p>Morning broke over a disturbed and restless community at Foss River. The
+chief residents who were not immediately concerned in the arrest of
+Retief&mdash;only deeply interested, and therefore skeptical&mdash;had gone to bed
+over-night eager for the morning light to bring them news. Their broken
+slumbers ceased as daylight broadened into sunrise, and, without waiting
+for their morning coffee, the majority set out to gather the earliest
+crumbs of news obtainable. There were others, of course, who were not in
+the know, or, at least, had only heard vague rumors. These were less
+interested, and therefore failed to rise so early.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst the earliest abroad was Doctor Abbot. Aunt Margaret's interest
+was not sufficient to drag her from her downy couch thus early, but,
+with truly womanly logic, she saw no reason why the doctor should not
+glean for her the information she required. Therefore the doctor rose
+and shivered under the lightness of his summer apparel in the brisk
+morning air.</p>
+
+<p>The market-place, upon which the doctor's house looked, was almost
+deserted when he passed out of his door. He glanced quickly around for
+some one whom he might recognize. He saw that the door of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's
+shack was open, but it was too far off for him to see whether that lazy
+individual was yet up. A neche was leisurely cleaning up round
+Lablache's store, whilst the local butcher was already busy swabbing out
+the little shed which did duty for his shop. As yet there was no other
+sign of life abroad, and Doctor Abbot prepared to walk across to the
+butcher for a gossip, and thus wait for some one else to come along.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped briskly from his house, for he was &quot;schrammed&quot; with cold in
+his white drill clothing. As he approached the energetic butcher, he saw
+a man entering the market-place from the southern extremity of the
+settlement. He paused to look closely at the new-comer. In a moment he
+recognized Thompson, one of the clerks from Lablache's store. He
+conjectured at once that this man might be able to supply him with the
+information he desired, and so changed his direction and went across to
+meet him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mornin', Thompson,&quot; he said, peering keenly into the pale, haggard face
+of the money-lender's employee. &quot;What's up with you? You look positively
+ill. Have you heard how the arrest went off last night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a blunt directness about the doctor which generally drove
+straight to the point. The clerk wearily passed his hand across his
+forehead. He seemed half asleep, and, as the doctor had asserted,
+thoroughly ill.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Arrest, doctor? Precious little arrest there's been. I've been out on
+the prairie all night. What, haven't you heard about the governor? Good
+lor'! I don't know what's going to happen to us all. Do you think we're
+safe here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Safe here? What do you mean, man?&quot; the doctor answered, noting the
+other's fearful glances round. &quot;Why, what ails you? What about
+Lablache?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Others had now appeared upon the market-place and Doctor Abbot saw
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill, dressed in a gray tweed suit, and looking as fresh as if he
+had just emerged from the proverbial bandbox, coming leisurely towards
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What about Lablache, eh?&quot; replied Thompson, echoing the doctor's
+question ruefully. &quot;A pretty nice thing Horrocks and his fellows have
+let themselves, and us, in for.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill had come up now and several others had joined the group. They stood
+by and listened while the clerk told his story. And what a story it was
+too. It was vividly sanguinary, and enough to strike terror into the
+hearts of his audience.</p>
+
+<p>He told with great gusto of how Lablache had been abducted. How the
+police horses and the money-lender's had been stolen from the stables at
+the store. He dwelt on the frightful horrors committed up at the Breed
+camp. How he had seen the police shot down before his very eyes, and he
+became expansive on the fact that, with his own hands, Retief had
+carried off Horrocks, and how he had heard the raider declare his
+intention of hanging him. It was a terrible tale of woe, and his
+audience was thrilled and horrified. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill alone appeared unmoved.
+A close observer even might have noticed the faintest suspicion of a
+smile at the corners of his mouth. The smile broadened as the sharp
+doctor launched a question at the narrator of terrible facts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How came you to see all this, and escape?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thompson was at no loss. He told how he had been sent up by &quot;Poker&quot; John
+to find Horrocks and tell him about Lablache. How he arrived in time to
+see the horrors perpetrated, and how he only managed to escape with his
+own life by flight, under cover of the darkness, and how, pursued by the
+bloodthirsty Breeds, he had managed to hide on the prairie, where he
+remained until daylight, and then by a circuitous route got back to the
+settlement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I tell you what it is, doctor,&quot; he finished up consequentially, &quot;the
+Breeds are in open rebellion, and, headed by that devil, Retief, intend
+to clear us whites out of the country. It's the starting of another Riel
+rebellion, and if we don't get help from the Government quickly, it's
+all up with us. That's my opinion,&quot; and he gazed patronizingly upon the
+crowd, which by this time had assembled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nonsense, man,&quot; said the doctor sharply. &quot;Your opinion's warped.
+Besides, you're in a blue funk. Come on over to 'old man' Smith's and
+have a 'freshener.' You want bucking-up. Coming, Bill?&quot; he went on,
+turning to Bunning-Ford. &quot;I want an 'eye-opener' myself. What say to a
+'Collins'?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The three moved away from the crowd, which they left horrified at what
+it had heard, and eagerly discussing and enlarging upon the sanguinary
+stories of Thompson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was already at the saloon when the three reached the door
+of &quot;old man&quot; Smith's reeking den. The proprietor was sweeping the bar,
+in a vain effort to clear the atmosphere of the nauseating stench of
+stale tobacco and drink. John was propped against the bar mopping up his
+fourth &quot;Collins.&quot; He usually had a thirst that took considerable
+quenching in the mornings now. His over-night potations were deep and
+strong. Morning &quot;nibbling&quot; had consequently become a disease with him.
+&quot;Old man&quot; Smith, with a keen eye to business, systematically mixed the
+rancher's morning drinks good and strong.</p>
+
+<p>Bill and the doctor were not slow to detect the condition of their old
+friend, and each felt deeply on the subject. Their cheery greetings,
+however, were none the less hearty. Smith desisted in his dusty
+occupation and proceeded to serve his customers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We're having lively times, John,&quot; said the doctor, after emptying his
+&quot;long sleever.&quot; &quot;Guess Retief's making things 'hum' in Foss River.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hum? Shout is more like it,&quot; drawled Bill. &quot;You've heard all the news,
+John?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've enough news of my own,&quot; growled the rancher.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Been up all night. I see you've got Thompson with you. What did
+Horrocks do after you told him about Lablache?&quot; he went on, turning to
+the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>Bill and the doctor exchanged meaning glances. The clerk having found a
+fresh audience again repeated his story. &quot;Poker&quot; John listened
+carefully. At the close of the narrative he snorted disdainfully and
+looked from the clerk to his two friends. Then he laughed loudly. The
+clerk became angry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Excuse me, Mr. Allandale, but if you doubt my word&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Doubt your word, boy?&quot; he said, when his mirth had subsided. &quot;I don't
+doubt your word. Only I've spent most of the night up at the Breed camp
+myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And were you there, sir, when Horrocks was captured?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I was not. After you came to my place and went on to the camp, I
+was very uneasy. So, after a bit, I got my 'hands' together and prepared
+to follow you up there. Just as I was about to set out,&quot; he went on,
+turning to the doctor and Bill, &quot;I met Jacky coming in. Bless you if she
+hadn't been to see the pusky herself. You know,&quot; with a slight frown,
+&quot;that child is much too fond of those skulking Breeds. Well, anyway, she
+said everything was quiet enough while she was there and,&quot; turning again
+to Thompson, &quot;she had seen nothing of Retief or Horrocks or any of the
+latter's men. We just put our heads together, and she convinced me that
+I was right, after what had occurred at the store, and had better go up.
+So up I went. We searched the whole camp. I guess we were there for nigh
+on three hours. The place was quiet enough. They were still dancing and
+drinking, but not a blessed sign of Horrocks could we find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I expect he'd gone before you got there, sir,&quot; put in Thompson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you find the bodies of the murdered police?&quot; asked the doctor
+innocently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not a sign of 'em,&quot; laughed John. &quot;There were no dead policemen, and,
+what's more, there was no trace of any shooting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The three men turned on the clerk, who felt that he must justify
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was shooting enough, sir; you mark my words. You'll hear of it
+to-day, sure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill walked away towards the window in disgust. The clerk annoyed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, boy, no. I'm thinking you are mistaken. I should have discovered
+some trace had there been any shooting. I don't deny that your story's
+true, but in the excitement of the moment I guess you got rattled&mdash;and
+saw things.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Old John laughed and turned away. At that instant Bill called them all
+over to the window. The bar window overlooked the market-place, and the
+front of Lablache's store was almost opposite to it.</p>
+
+<p>Bill pointed towards the store as the three men gathered round. &quot;Old
+man&quot; Smith also ranged himself with the others.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look!&quot; Bill smiled grimly.</p>
+
+<p>A buckboard had just drawn up outside Lablache's emporium and two people
+were alighting. A crowd had gathered round the arrivals. There was no
+mistaking one of the figures. The doctor was the first to give
+expression to the thought that was in the mind of each of the interested
+spectators.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache!&quot; he exclaimed in astonishment</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Horrocks,&quot; added &quot;Lord&quot; Bill quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess he wasn't hung then after all,&quot; said &quot;Poker&quot; John, turning as he
+spoke. But Thompson had taken his departure. This last blow was too
+much. And he felt that it was an advantageous moment in which to retire
+to his employer's store, and hide his diminished head amongst the bales
+of dry goods and the monumental ledgers to be found there.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That youth has a considerable imagination.&quot; The Hon. Bunning-Ford
+turned from the window and strolled leisurely towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where are you going?&quot; exclaimed &quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To cook some breakfast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, no, you must come up to the ranch with me. Let's go right over to
+the store first, and hear what Lablache has to say. Then we'll go and
+feed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged. Then,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache and I are not on the best of terms,&quot; he said doubtfully. He
+wished to go notwithstanding his demur. Besides he was anxious to go on
+to the ranch to see Jacky. The doubt in his tone gave John his cue, and
+the old man refused to be denied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come along,&quot; he said, and linking his arm within the other's, he led
+the way over to the store; the doctor, equally eager, bringing up the
+rear.</p>
+
+<p>Bill suffered himself to be thus led. He knew that in such company
+Lablache could not very well refuse him admission to his office. He had
+a decided wish to be present when the money-lender told his tale.
+However, in this he was doomed to disappointment. Lablache had already
+decided upon a plan of action.</p>
+
+<p>At the store the three friends made their way through the crowd of
+curious people who had gathered on the unexpected return of the chief
+actors in last night's drama; they made their way quickly round to the
+back where the private door was.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was within, and with him Horrocks. The heavy voice of the
+money-lender answered &quot;Poker&quot; John's summons.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He was surprised when the door opened, and he saw who his visitors were.
+John and the doctor he was prepared for, but &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's coming was a
+different matter. For an instant he seriously meditated an angry
+objection. Then he altered his mind, a thing which was rare with him.
+After all the man's presence could do no harm, and he felt that to
+object to him, would be to quarrel with the rancher. On second thoughts
+he would tolerate what he considered the intrusion.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was ensconced in his basket chair, and Horrocks was at the
+great man's desk. Neither moved as their visitors entered. The troubles
+of the previous night were plainly written on both men's faces. There
+was a haggard look in their eyes, and a generally dishevelled appearance
+about their dress. Lablache in particular looked unwashed and untidy.
+Horrocks looked less troubled, and there was a strong air of
+determination about his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John showed no niceness in broaching the subject of his visit.
+His libations had roused him to the proper pitch for plain speaking.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, what happened to you last night, Lablache? I guess you're looking
+about as blue as they make 'em. Say, I thought sure Retief was going to
+do for you when I heard about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah. Who told you about&mdash;about me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your clerk.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rodgers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, Thompson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! Have you seen Rodgers at all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No.&quot; John turned to the other two. &quot;Have you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Neither of the men had seen the clerk, and old John turned again to
+Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, what's happened to Rodgers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, nothing. I haven't seen him since I have been back&mdash;that's all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, now tell us all about last night,&quot; went on the rancher. &quot;This
+matter is going to be cleared up. I have been thinking of a vigilance
+committee. We can't do better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shook his great head. To the doctor and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill there
+seemed to be an utter hopelessness conveyed in the motion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have nothing to tell. Neither has Horrocks. What happened last night
+concerns ourselves alone. You may possibly hear more later on, but the
+telling by us now will do no good, and probably a lot of harm. As for
+your vigilance committee, form it if you like, but I doubt that you will
+do any good with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This refusal riled the old rancher. He was just in that condition when
+it would take little to make him quarrel. He was about to rap out an
+angry retort when a knock came at the partition door. It was Thompson.
+He had come to say that the troopers had returned, and wanted to see the
+sergeant. Also to say that Rodgers was with them. Horrocks immediately
+went out to see them, and, before John could say a word, Lablache turned
+on him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, John, for the present my lips are sealed. It is Horrocks's
+wish. He has a plan which he wishes to carry out quietly. The result of
+his plan largely depends upon silence. Retief seems to have sources of
+information everywhere. Walls have ears, man. Now, I shall be glad if
+you will leave me. I&mdash;I must get cleaned up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John's anger died within him. He saw that Lablache was upset. He looked
+absolutely ill. The old man's good nature would not allow him to press
+this companion of his ranching life further. There was nothing left for
+him to do but leave.</p>
+
+<p>As he rose to go, the money-lender unbent still further.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll see you later, John, I may then be able to tell you more. Perhaps
+it may interest you to know that Horrocks has discovered the path across
+the keg, and&mdash;he's going to cross it. Good-by. So long, Doc.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well, I shall be up at the ranch. Come along, Bill. Jacky, I
+expect, is waiting breakfast for us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache heard the old man's remark as the latter passed out, and a
+bitter feeling of resentment rose within him. He felt that everything
+was against him. His evil nature, however, would not let him remain long
+desponding. He ground his teeth and cursed bitterly. It had only wanted
+a fillip such as this to rouse him from the curious lethargic
+hopelessness into which the terrible night's doings had cast him.</p>
+
+<p>The moment the three men got away from the store, Doctor Abbot drew
+attention to the money-lender's words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Going to cross the keg, eh? Well, if he's really discovered the path
+it's certainly the best thing to do. He's a sharp man is Horrocks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's a fool!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill's words were so emphatic that both men stared at him. If they were
+startled at his words, they were still more startled at the set
+expression of his face. Doctor Abbot thought he had never seen the
+<i>insouciant</i> Bill so roused out of himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why&mdash;how?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How? I tell you, man, that no one knows that path
+except&mdash;except&mdash;Retief, and, supposing Horrocks has discovered it, if he
+attempts to cross, there can only be one result to his mad folly. I tell
+you what it is, the man should be stopped. It's absolute
+suicide&mdash;nothing more nor less.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in the emphasis of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's words kept the others silent
+until the doctor left them at his home. Then as the two men hurried out
+across the prairie towards the ranch, the conversation turned back to
+the events of the previous evening.</p>
+
+<p>At the ranch they found Jacky awaiting the old man's return, on the
+veranda. She was surprised when she saw who was with him. Her surprise
+was a pleasant one, however, and she extended her hand in cordial
+welcome.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come right in, Bill. Gee, but you look fit&mdash;and slick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two young people smiled into each other's faces, and no onlooker,
+not even the observant Aunt Margaret, could have detected the
+understanding which passed in that look. Jacky was radiant. Her sweet,
+dark face was slightly flushed. There were no tell-tale rings about her
+dark eyes. For all sign she gave to the contrary she might have enjoyed
+the full measure of a night's rest. Her visit to the Breed camp, or, for
+that matter, any other adventures which had befallen her during the
+night, had left no trace on her beautiful face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've brought the boy up to feed,&quot; said old John. &quot;I guess we'll get
+right to it. I've got a 'twist' on me that'll take considerable to
+satisfy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The meal passed pleasantly enough. The conversation naturally was
+chiefly confined to the events of the night. But somehow the others did
+not respond very eagerly to the old rancher's evident interest and
+concern. Most of the talking&mdash;most of the theorizing&mdash;most of the
+suggestions for the stamping out of the scourge, Retief, came from him,
+the others merely contenting themselves with agreeing to his suggestions
+with a lack of interest which, had the old man been perfectly sober, he
+could not have failed to observe. However, he was especially obtuse this
+morning, and was too absorbed in his own impracticable theories and
+suggestions to notice the others' lack of interest.</p>
+
+<p>At the conclusion of the meal the rancher took himself off down to the
+settlement again. He must endeavor to draw Lablache, he said. He would
+not wait for him to come to the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky and Bill went out on to the veranda, and watched the old man as he
+set out with unsteady gait for the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill,&quot; said the girl, as soon as her uncle was out of earshot, &quot;what
+news?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two items of interest One, the very best, and the other&mdash;the very
+worst.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which means?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No one has the least suspicion of us; and Horrocks, the madman, intends
+to attempt the passage of the keg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill jaws shut with a snap as he ceased speaking. The look which
+accompanied his last announcement was one of utter dejection. Jacky did
+not reply for an instant, her great eyes had taken on a look of deep
+anxiety as she gazed towards the muskeg.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, can nothing be done to stop him?&quot; She gazed appealingly up into
+the face of the tall figure beside her. &quot;He is a brave man, if foolish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's just it, dear. He's headstrong and means to see this thing
+through. Had I thought that he would ever dream of contemplating such a
+suicidal feat as attempting that path, I'd never have let him see the
+cattle cross last night. My God! it turns me sick to think of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hush, Bill, don't talk so loud. Do you think any one could dissuade
+him? Lablache, or&mdash;or uncle, for instance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford shook his head. His look was troubled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Horrocks is not the man to be turned from his purpose,&quot; he replied.
+&quot;And besides, Lablache would not attempt such a thing. He is too keen to
+capture&mdash;Relief,&quot; with a bitter laugh. &quot;A life more or less would not
+upset that scoundrel's resolve. As for your uncle,&quot; with a shrug, &quot;I
+don't think he's the man for the task. No, Jacky,&quot; he went on, with a
+sigh, &quot;we must let things take their course now. We have embarked on
+this business. We mustn't weaken. His blood be upon his own head.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They relapsed into silence for some moments. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill lit a
+cigarette, and leant himself against one of the veranda posts. He was
+worried at the turn events had taken. He had no grudge against Horrocks;
+the man was but doing his duty. But his meditated attempt he considered
+to be an exaggerated sense of that duty. Presently he spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky&mdash;do you know, I feel that somehow the end of this business is
+approaching. What the end is to be I cannot foretell. One thing,
+however, is clear. Sooner or later we must run foul of people, and when
+that occurs&mdash;well,&quot; throwing his cigarette from him viciously, &quot;it
+simply means shooting. And&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Bill, I know what you would say. Shooting means killing, killing
+means murder, and murder means swinging. You're right, but,&quot; and the
+girl's eyes began to blaze, &quot;before that, Lablache must go under.
+Whatever happens, Bill, before we decorate any tree with our bodies, if
+our object is not already obtained, I'll shoot him with my own pistol. I
+guess we're embarked on a game that we're going to see through.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so. We'll see it through. Do you know what stock we've taken,
+all told? Close on twenty thousand head, and&mdash;all Lablache's. They're
+snug over at 'Bad Man's' Hollow, and a tidy fine bunch they are. The
+division with the boys is a twentieth each, and the balance is ours. Our
+share is ten thousand.&quot; He ceased speaking. Then presently he went on,
+harking back to the subject of Horrocks. &quot;I wish that man could be
+stayed. His failure must precipitate matters. Should he drown, as he
+surely will, the whole countryside will join in the hue and cry. It is
+only his presence here that keeps the settlers in check. Well, so be it.
+It's a pity. But I'm not going to swing. They'll never take me alive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it comes to that, Bill, you'll not be alone, I guess. You can gamble
+your soul, when it comes to open warfare I'm with you, an' I guess I can
+shoot straight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked at the girl in astonishment. He noted the keen deep eyes,
+the set little mouth. The fearless expression on her beautiful face. Her
+words had fairly taken his breath away, but he saw that she had meant
+what she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, no, girlie. No one will suspect you. Besides, this is my affair.
+You have your uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, boy, I love my uncle&mdash;I love him real well. I'm working for him,
+we both are&mdash;and we'll work for him to the last. But our work together
+has taught me something, Bill, and when I cotton to teaching there's
+nothing that can knock what I learn out of my head. I've just learned to
+love you, Bill. And, as the Bible says, old Uncle John's got to take
+second place. That's all. If you go under&mdash;well, I guess I'll go under
+too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky gave her lover no chance to reply. As he opened his lips to
+expostulate and took a step towards her she darted away, and disappeared
+into the sitting-room. He followed her in, but the room was empty.</p>
+
+<p>He paused. Then a smile spread over his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't fancy we shall go under, little woman,&quot; he muttered, &quot;at least,
+not if I can help it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to the veranda and strolled away towards the settlement.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII" />CHAPTER XXIII - THE PAW OF THE CAT</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lablache was alone. Horrocks had left him to set out on his final effort
+to discover Retief's hiding-place. The great man was eagerly waiting for
+his return. Evening was drawing on and the officer had not yet put in an
+appearance, neither had the money-lender received any word from him. In
+consequence he was beginning to hope that Horrocks had succeeded.</p>
+
+<p>All day the wretched man had been tortured by horrid fears. And, as time
+passed and evening drew on, his mood became almost a panic. The
+money-lender was in a deplorable state of mind; his nerves were shaken,
+and he was racked by a dread of he scarce knew what. What he had gone
+through the night before had driven him to the verge of mental collapse.
+No bodily injury could have thus reduced him; for, whatever might have
+been his failings, physical cowardice was not amongst the number. Any
+moral weakness which might have been his had been so obscured by long
+years of success and prosperity, that no one knowing him would have
+believed him to be so afflicted. No, in spite of his present condition
+Lablache was a strong man.</p>
+
+<p>But the frightful mental torture he had endured at Retief's hands had
+told its tale. The attack of the last twenty-four hours had been made
+against him alone; at least, so Lablache understood it. Retief's efforts
+were only in his direction; the raider had robbed him of twenty thousand
+head of cattle; he had burnt his beautiful ranch out, in sheer
+wantonness it seemed to the despairing man; what then would be his next
+move if he were not stopped? What else was there of
+his&mdash;Lablache's&mdash;that the Breed could attack? His store&mdash;yes&mdash;yes; his
+store! That was all that was left of his property in Foss River. And
+then&mdash;what then? There was nothing after that, except, perhaps&mdash;except
+his life.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache stirred in his seat and wheezed heavily as he arrived at this
+conclusion. His horrified thoughts were expressed in the look of fear
+that was in his lashless eyes.</p>
+
+<p>His life&mdash;yes! That must be the raider's culminating object. Or would he
+leave him that, so that he might further torture him by burning him out
+of Calford. He pondered fearfully, and hard, practical as was his
+nature, the money-lender allowed his imagination to run riot over
+possibilities which surely his cooler judgment would have scoffed at.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache rose hurriedly from his chair. It only wanted a quarter to
+five. Putting his head through the partition doorway he ordered his
+astonished clerks to close up. He felt that he could not&mdash;dare not keep
+the store open longer. Then he inspected the private door of his office.
+The spring catch was fast. He locked his safe. All the time he moved
+about fearfully&mdash;like some hunted criminal. At last he returned to his
+seat. His bilious eyes roved over the various objects in the room. A
+hunted look was in them. His mind seemed fixed on one thought alone&mdash;the
+coming of Retief.</p>
+
+<p>After this he grew more calm. Perhaps the knowledge that the store was
+secure now against any intruder helped to steady his nerves. Then he
+started&mdash;was the store secure? He rose again and went to the window to
+put up the shutter. He gazed out towards the Foss River Ranch, and, as
+he gazed, he saw some one riding fast towards the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>The horseman came nearer; the sight fascinated the great man. Now the
+traveler had reached the market place, and was coming on towards the
+store. Suddenly the money-lender recognized in the horseman one of
+Horrocks's troopers, mounted on a horse from John Allandale's stable. A
+wild hope leapt up in his heart. Then, as the man drew nearer and
+Lablache saw the horrified expression of his face, hope went from him,
+and he feared the worst.</p>
+
+<p>The clatter of hoofs ceased outside the office door. Lablache stepped
+heavily forward and threw it open. He stood framed in the doorway as the
+man gasped out his terrible news.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's drowned, sir, drowned before our eyes. We tried, but couldn't save
+him. He would go, sir; we tried to persuade him, but he would go. No
+more than fifty yards from the bank, and then down he went. He was out
+of sight in two minutes. It was horrible, sir, and him never uttered a
+sound. I'm going in to Stormy Cloud to report an' get instructions.
+Anything I can do, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So the worst was realized. For the moment the money-lender could find no
+words. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. His last hope&mdash;the
+last barrier between him and the man whom he considered his arch enemy,
+Retief, seemed to have been shattered. He thought not of the horror of
+the policeman's drowning; he felt no sorrow at the reckless man's
+ghastly end. He merely thought of himself. He saw only how the man's
+death affected his personal interests. At last he gurgled out some
+words. He scarce knew what he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's nothing to be done. Yes&mdash;no&mdash;yes, you'd better go up to the
+Allandales,&quot; he went on uncertainly. &quot;They'll send a rescue party.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The trooper dashed off and Lablache securely fastened the door. Then he
+put the shutter over the window, and, notwithstanding that it was broad
+daylight still, he lit the lamp.</p>
+
+<p>Once more he returned to his protesting chair, into which he almost
+fell. To him this last catastrophe was as the last straw. What was now
+to become of the settlement; what was to become of him? Horrocks gone;
+the troopers withdrawn, or, at least, without a guiding hand, what
+might Retief not be free to do while the settlement awaited the coming
+of a fresh detachment of police. He impotently cursed the raider. The
+craven weakness, induced by his condition of nervous prostration, was
+almost pitiable. All the selfishness which practically monopolized his
+entire nature displayed itself in his terror. He cared nothing for
+others. He believed that Retief was at war with him alone. He believed
+that the raider sought only his wealth&mdash;his wealth which his years of
+hard work and unscrupulous methods had laboriously piled up&mdash;the wealth
+he loved and lived for&mdash;the wealth which was to him as a god. He thought
+of all he had already lost. He counted it up in thousands, and his eyes
+grew wide with horror and despair as the figures mounted up, up, until
+they represented a great fortune.</p>
+
+<p>The long-suffering chair creaked under him as he flung himself back in
+it, his pasty, heavy-jowled face was ghastly under the lash of
+despairing thought. Only a miser, one of those wretched creatures who
+live only for the contemplation of their hoarded wealth, could
+understand the feelings of the miserable man as he lay back in his
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>The man who had thus reduced the money-lender must have understood his
+nature as did the inquisitors of old understand the weaknesses of their
+victims. For surely he could have found no other vulnerable spot in the
+great man's composition.</p>
+
+<p>The first shock of the trooper's news began to pass. Lablache's mind
+began to balance itself again. Such a state of nerves as was his could
+not last and the man remain sane. Possibly the thought that he was still
+a rich man came to his aid. Possibly the thought of hundreds of
+thousands of dollars sunk in perfect securities, in various European
+centers, toned down the grievousness of his losses. Whatever it was he
+grew calmer, and with calmness his scheming nature reasserted itself.</p>
+
+<p>He moved from his seat and helped himself liberally to the whisky which
+was in his cabinet. He needed the generous spirit, and drank it off at
+a gulp. His chair behind him creaked. He started. His ashen face became
+more ghastly in its hue. He looked round fearfully. Then he understood,
+and he wheezed heavily. Once more he sat himself down, and the warming
+spirit steadily did its work.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly his mind leapt forward, as it were, from its stagnatory
+condition of abject fear. It traveled swiftly, urged by a pursuing dread
+over plans for the future. The guiding star of his thought was safety.
+At all costs he must find safety for his property and himself. So long
+as Retief was at large there could be no safety for him in Foss River.
+He must get away. He must get away, bearing with him the fruits which
+yet remained to him of his life's toil. He had contemplated retiring
+before. His retirement from business would mean ruin to many of those
+who had borrowed from him he knew, and to those on whose property he
+held mortgages as security. But that could not be helped. He was not
+going to allow himself to suffer through what he considered any
+humanitarian weakness. Yes, he would retire&mdash;get away from the reach of
+Retief and his companions, and&mdash;ah!</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts merged into another channel&mdash;a channel which, under the
+stress of his terrors, had for the moment been obscured. He suddenly
+thought of the Allandales. Here for the instant was a stumbling block.
+Or should he renounce his passion for Jacky? He drummed thoughtfully
+with his finger-tips upon the arms of his chair.</p>
+
+<p>No, why should he give her up? Something of his old nerve was returning.
+He held all the cards. He knew he could, by foreclosing, ruin &quot;Poker&quot;
+John. Why should he give the girl up, and see her calmly secured by that
+cursed Bunning-Ford? His bilious eyes half closed and his sparse
+eyebrows drew together in a deep concentration of thought. Then
+presently his forehead smoothed, and his lashless eyes gleamed wickedly.
+He rose heavily to his feet and labored to and fro across the floor,
+with his beefy hands clasped behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Excellent&mdash;excellent,&quot; he muttered. &quot;The devil could not have designed
+it better.&quot; There was a grim, evil smile about his mouth. &quot;Yes, a
+game&mdash;a game. It will tickle old John, and will carry out my purpose.
+The mortgages which I hold on his property are nothing to me. Most are
+gambling debts. For the rest the interest has covered the principal. I
+have seen to that. But he is in arrears now. Good&mdash;good. Their
+abandonment represents no loss to me&mdash;ha, ha.&quot; He chuckled mirthlessly.
+&quot;A little game&mdash;a gentle flutter, friend John, and the stakes all in my
+favor. But I do not intend to lose. Oh, no. The girl might outwit me if
+I lost. I shall win, and on my wedding day I shall be
+magnanimous&mdash;good.&quot; He unclasped his hands and rubbed them together
+gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The uncle's consent&mdash;his persuasion. She will do as he wishes or&mdash;ruin.
+It is capital&mdash;a flawless scheme. And then to leave Foss River forever.
+God, but I shall be glad,&quot; with a return to his nervous dread. He looked
+about him; eagerly, his great paunchy figure pictured grotesquely
+beneath the pasty, fearful face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now to see John,&quot; he went on, after a moment's pause. &quot;How&mdash;how? I wish
+I could get him here. It would be better here. There would be no chance
+of listening ears. Besides, there is the whisky.&quot; He paused again
+thinking. &quot;Yes,&quot; he muttered presently. &quot;Delay would be bad. I must not
+give my enemy time. At once&mdash;at once. Nothing like doing things at once.
+I must go to John. But&mdash;&quot; and he looked dubiously at the darkened
+window&mdash;&quot;when I return it will be dark.&quot; He picked up his other revolver
+and slipped it into his breast pocket. &quot;Yes, yes, I am getting
+foolish&mdash;old. Come along, my friend, we will go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He seized his hat and went to the office door. He paused with his hand
+upon the lock, and gave one final look round, then he turned the spring
+with a great show of determination and passed out.</p>
+
+<p>It was a different man who left the little office on that evening to
+the man who had for so many years governed the destinies of the smaller
+ranching world of the Foss River district. He had truly said that he was
+getting old&mdash;but he did not quite realize how old. His enemies had done
+their work only too well. The terrible consequences of the night of
+terror were to have far-reaching results.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender set out for the ranch bristling with eagerness to put
+into execution his hastily conceived plan.</p>
+
+<p>He found the old rancher in his sanctum. He was alone brooding over the
+calamity which had befallen the police-officer, and stimulating his
+thought with silent &quot;nippings&quot; at the whisky bottle. He was in a
+semi-maudlin condition when the money-lender entered, and greeted his
+visitor with almost childish effusion.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache saw and understood, and a sense of satisfaction came to him. He
+hoped his task would be easier than he had anticipated. His evil nature
+rose to the occasion, and, for the moment, his own troubles and fears
+were forgotten. There was a cat-like licking of the lips as he
+contemplated the pitiful picture before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; said old John, looking into the other's face with a pair of
+bloodshot eyes, as he re-seated himself after rising to greet his
+visitor. &quot;Well, poor Horrocks has gone&mdash;gone, a victim to his sense of
+duty. I guess, Lablache, there are few men would have shown his grit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grit! Yes, that's so.&quot; The money-lender had been about to say &quot;folly,&quot;
+but he checked himself. He did not want to offend &quot;Poker&quot; John&mdash;now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. The poor fellow was too good for his work,&quot; he went on, in tones
+of commiseration. &quot;'Tis indeed a catastrophe, John. And we are the
+losers by it. I regret now that I did not altogether agree with him when
+he first came amongst us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John wagged his head. He looked to be near weeping. His companion's
+sympathetic tone was almost too much for his whisky-laden heart. But
+Lablache had not come here to discuss Horrocks, or, for that matter, to
+sympathize with the gray-headed wreck of manhood before him. He wished
+to find out first of all if anybody was about whom his plans concerned,
+and then to force his proposition upon his old companion. He carefully
+led the rancher to talk of other things.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The man has gone into Stormy Cloud to report?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And who are they likely to send down in place&mdash;ah&mdash;of the unfortunate
+Horrocks, think you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't say. I guess they'll send a good man. I've asked for more men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man roused somewhat from his maudlin state.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, that's a good move, John,&quot; said the money-lender. &quot;What does Jacky
+think about&mdash;these things?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The question was put carelessly. John yawned, and poured out a &quot;tot&quot; of
+whisky for his friend.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I haven't seen the child since breakfast. She seemed to take it
+badly enough then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thanks. Aren't you going to have one?&quot; as John pushed the glass over to
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, yes, man. Never shirk my liquor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He dashed a quantity of raw spirit into his glass and drank it off.
+Lablache looked on with intense satisfaction. John rose unsteadily, and,
+supporting himself against the furniture as he went, moved over to the
+French window and closed it. Then he lurched heavily back into his chair
+again. His eyes half closed. But he roused at the sound of Lablache's
+guttural tones.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;John, old friend.&quot; Muddled as he was the rancher started at the term.
+&quot;I've come to have a long chat with you. This morning I could not talk.
+I was too broken up&mdash;too, too ill. Now listen and you shall hear of all
+that happened last night, and then you will the better be able to judge
+of the wisdom of my decision.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John listened while Lablache told his tale. The money-lender embellished
+the facts slightly so as the further to emphasize them. Then, at the
+conclusion of the story of his night's doings, he went on to matters
+which concerned his future.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, John, there is nothing left for me but to get out of the country.
+Mind this is no sudden determination, but a conclusion I have long
+arrived at. These disastrous occurrences have merely hastened my plans.
+I am not so young as I was, you know,&quot; with an attempt at lightness, &quot;I
+simply dare not stay. I fear that Retief will soon attempt my life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He sighed and looked for sympathy. Old John seemed too amazed to
+respond. He had never realized that the raider's efforts were solely
+directed against Lablache. The money-lender went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that is why I have come to you, my oldest friend. I feel you should
+be the first to know, for with no one else in Foss River have I lived in
+such perfect harmony. And, besides, you are the most interested.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The latter was in the tone of an afterthought. Strangely enough the
+careless way in which it was spoken carried the words well home to the
+rancher's muddled brain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Interested?&quot; he echoed blankly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, yes. Certainly, you are the most interested. I mean from a
+monetary point of view. You see, the winding up of my business will
+entail the settling up of&mdash;er&mdash;my books.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said the rancher, with doubtful understanding.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then&mdash;er&mdash;you take my meaning as to how&mdash;er&mdash;how you are interested.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean my arrears of interest,&quot; said the gray headed old man dazedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so. You will have to meet your liabilities to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But&mdash;but&mdash;man.&quot; The rancher spluttered for words to express himself.
+This was the money-lender's opportunity, and he seized it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, John, in retiring from business I am not altogether a free
+agent. My affairs are so mixed up with the affairs of the Calford Trust
+and Loan Co. The period of one of your mortgages, for instance&mdash;the
+heaviest by the way&mdash;has long expired. It has not been renewed. The
+interest is in arrears. This mortgage was arranged by me jointly with
+the Calford Trust and Loan Co. When I retire it will have to be settled
+up. Being my friend I have not troubled you, but doubtless the company
+will have no sentiment about it. As to the others&mdash;they are debts of
+honor. I am afraid these things will have to be settled, John. You will
+of course be able to meet them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God, man, but I can't,&quot; old John exclaimed. &quot;I tell you I can't,&quot; he
+reiterated in a despairing voice.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged his obese shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is unfortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Lablache,&quot; said the rancher, gazing with drunken earnestness into
+the other's face, &quot;you will not press me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why no, John, of course not&mdash;as far as I am personally concerned. I
+have known you too long and have too much regard for you and&mdash;yours. No,
+no, John; of course I am a business man, but I am still your friend.
+Friend&mdash;eh, John&mdash;your friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher looked relieved, and helped himself to more whisky. Lablache
+joined him and they silently drank. &quot;Poker&quot; John set his empty glass
+down first.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now Lablache, about these lia-liabilities,&quot; he said with a hiccup.
+&quot;What is to be done?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, John, we are friends of such old standing that I don't like to
+retire from business and leave you inconvenienced by the process.
+Perhaps there is a way by which I can help you. I am very wealthy&mdash;and
+wealth is a great power&mdash;a very great power even in this wild region.
+Now, suppose I make a proposition to you.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV" />CHAPTER XXIV - &quot;POKER&quot; JOHN ACCEPTS</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a tone of drunken suspicion about the exclamation which was
+not lost on Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you were suddenly called upon to meet your liabilities to me, John,&quot;
+said the money-lender, smiling, &quot;how would it fix you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would mean ruin,&quot; replied John, hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache cleared his throat and snorted. Then he smiled benignly upon
+his old companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's just what I thought. Well, you're not going to be ruined&mdash;by me.
+I'm going to burn the mortgages and settle with the Calford Trust and
+Loan Co. myself&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher feared to trust his ears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is if you are willing to do something for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In his eager hope John Allandale had leant forward so as not to miss a
+word the other said. Now, however, he threw himself back in his chair.
+Some suspicion was in his mind. It might have been intuition. He knew
+Lablache well. He laughed cynically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's more like you,&quot; he said roughly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One moment,&quot; said the money-lender; the smile vanished from his lips.
+&quot;Fair play's good medicine. We'll wipe out your debts if you'll tell
+your niece that you want her to marry me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll&mdash;I'll&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold on, John,&quot; with upraised hand, as the old man purpled with rage
+and started to shout.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll see you damned first!&quot; The rancher had lurched on to his feet and
+his fist came down with a crash upon the corner of the table. Lablache
+remained unmoved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tut tut, man; now listen to me.&quot; The old man towered unsteadily over
+him. &quot;I can't understand your antipathy to me as a husband for your
+niece. Give your consent&mdash;she'll do it for you&mdash;and, on my wedding day,
+I burn those mortgages and I'll settle 100,000 dollars upon Jacky.
+Besides this I'll put 200,000 dollars into your ranch to develop it, and
+only ask ten per cent, of the profits. Can I speak fairer? That girl of
+yours is a good girl, John; too good to kick about the prairie. I'll
+make her a good husband. She shall do as she pleases, live where she
+likes. You can always be with us if you choose. It's no use being riled,
+John, I'm making an honest proposition.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher calmed. In the face of such a generous proposal he could not
+insult Lablache. He was determined, however. It was strange, perhaps,
+that any suggestion for his influence to be used in his niece's choice
+of a husband should have such a violent effect upon him. But &quot;Poker&quot;
+John was a curious mixture of weakness and honor. He loved his niece
+with a doting affection. She was the apple of his eye. To him the
+thought of personal benefit at the cost of her happiness was a
+sacrilege. Lablache understood this. He knew that on this point the
+rancher's feelings amounted to little short of mania. And yet he
+persisted. John's nature was purely obstinate, and obstinacy is
+weakness. The money-lender knew that obstinacy could be broken down by
+steady determination. However, time, with him, was now everything. He
+must clinch the deal with as little delay as possible if he would escape
+from Foss River and the ruinous attacks of Retief. This thought was ever
+present with him and urged him to press the old man hard. If John
+Allandale would not be reasonable, he, Lablache, must force an
+acceptance of his terms from him.</p>
+
+<p>The rancher was mollified. His dulled brain suddenly saw a loop-hole of
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess you mean well enough, Lablache. But say, ask the child
+yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The other shook his massive head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have&mdash;she has refused.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then why in thunder do you come to me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The angry light was again in the rancher's bloodshot eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why? Because she will marry me if you choose. She can't refuse&mdash;she
+dare not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, by God, I'll refuse for her&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He paused disconcertedly in his wrath. Lablache's cold eyes fixed him
+with their icy stare.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well, John,&quot; said Lablache, with a contemptuous shrug. &quot;You know
+the inevitable result of such a hasty decision. It means ruin to
+you&mdash;beggary to that poor child.&quot; His teeth snapped viciously. Then he
+smiled with his mouth. &quot;I can only put your de&mdash;refusal down to utter,
+unworthy selfishness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not selfishness, Lablache&mdash;not that. I would sacrifice everything in
+the world for that child&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Except your own pleasure&mdash;your own personal comforts. Bah, man!&quot; with
+scathing contempt, &quot;your object must be plain to the veriest fool. You
+do not wish to lose her. You fear to lose your best servant lest in
+consequence you find the work of the ranch thrust upon your own hands.
+You would have no time to indulge your love of play. You would no longer
+be able to spend three parts of your time in 'old man' Smith's filthy
+bar. Your conduct is laudable, John&mdash;it is worthy of you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache had expected another outburst of anger, but John only leered in
+response to the other's contempt. Drunk as he was, the rancher saw the
+absurdity of the attack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Piffle!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;Now see, when Jacky comes in you shall hear
+what she has to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John smiled with satisfaction at his own 'cuteness. He felt that
+he had outwitted the astute usurer. His simplicity, however, was of an
+infantile order.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That would be useless.&quot; Lablache did not want to be confronted with
+Jacky. &quot;My mind is quite made up. The Calford Trust will begin
+proceedings at once, unless&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unless I give my consent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The satisfaction had suddenly died out of John Allandale's face. Even in
+his maudlin condition he understood the relentless purpose which backed
+the money-lender's proposal. To his credit be it said that he was
+thinking only of Jacky&mdash;the one being who was dearer to him than all
+else in the world. For himself he had no thought&mdash;he did not care what
+happened. But he longed to save his niece from the threatened
+catastrophe. His seared old face worked in his distress. Lablache beheld
+the sign, and knew that he was weakening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why force me to extremities, John?&quot; he said presently. &quot;If you would
+only be reasonable, I feel sure you would have no matter for regret.
+Now, suppose I went a step further.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;no,&quot; weakly. There followed a pause. John Allandale avoided the
+other's eyes. To the old man the silence of the room became intolerable.
+He opened his lips to speak. Then he closed them&mdash;only to open them
+again. &quot;But&mdash;but what step do you propose? Is&mdash;is it honest?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perfectly.&quot; Lablache was smiling in that indulgent manner he knew so
+well how to assume. &quot;And it might appeal to you. Pressure is a thing I
+hate. Now&mdash;suppose we leave the matter to&mdash;to chance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Chance?&quot; The rancher questioned the other doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;why not?&quot; The money-lender's smile broadened and he leaned forward
+to impress his hearer the more surely. &quot;A little game&mdash;a game of poker,
+eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Allandale shook his head. He failed to grasp the other's meaning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't understand,&quot; he said, struggling with the liquor which fogged
+his dull brain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, of course you don't,&quot; easily. &quot;Now listen to me and I'll tell you
+what I mean.&quot; The money-lender spoke as though addressing a wayward
+child. &quot;The stakes shall be my terms against your influence with Jacky.
+If you win you keep your girl, and I cancel your mortgages; if I win I
+marry your girl under the conditions I have already offered. It's wholly
+an arrangement for your benefit. All I can possibly gain is your girl.
+Whichever way the game goes I must pay. Saints alive&mdash;but what an old
+fool I am!&quot; He laughed constrainedly. &quot;For the sake of a pretty face I'm
+going to give you everything&mdash;but there,&quot; seriously, &quot;I'd do more to win
+that sweet child for my wife. What d'you say, John?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There could be no doubt that Lablache meant what he said, only he might
+have put it differently. Had he said that there was nothing at which he
+would stop to secure Jacky, it would have been more in keeping with the
+facts, He meant to marry the girl. His bilious eyes watered. There was a
+sensual look in them. His heavy lips parted and closed with a sucking
+smack as though expressing appreciation of a tasty morsel.</p>
+
+<p>John remained silent, but into his eyes had leapt a gleam which told of
+the lust of gaming aroused. His look&mdash;his whole face spoke for him.
+Lablache had primed his hook with an irresistible bait. He knew his man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See,&quot; he went on, as the other remained silent, &quot;this is the way we can
+arrange it. We will play 'Jackpots' only. The best seven out of
+thirteen. It will be a pretty game, in which, from an outsider's point
+of view, I alone can be the loser. If I win I shall consider myself
+amply repaid. If I lose&mdash;well,&quot; with an expressive movement of the
+hands, &quot;I will take my chance&mdash;as a sportsman should. I love your niece,
+John, and will risk everything to win her. Now, think of it. It will be
+the sweetest, prettiest gamble. And, too, think of the stake. A fortune,
+John&mdash;a fortune for you. And for me a bare possibility of realizing my
+hopes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old gambler's last vestige of honor struggled to make itself
+apparent in a negative movement of the head. But the movement would not
+come. His thoughts were of the game, and ere yet the last words of the
+money-lender had ceased to sound, he was captured. The satanic cunning
+of the proposal was lost upon his sodden intellect. It was a
+contemptible, pitiable piece of chicanery with which Lablache sought to
+trap the old man into giving his consent and assistance. The
+money-lender had no intention of losing the game. He knew he must win.
+He was merely resorting to this means because he knew the gambling
+spirit of the rancher. He knew that &quot;Poker&quot; John's obstinacy was proof
+against any direct attack; that no persuasion would induce the consent
+he desired. The method of a boxer pounding the body of an opponent whom
+he knows to be afflicted with some organic weakness of the heart is no
+more cowardly than was Lablache's proposal.</p>
+
+<p>The rancher still remained silent. Lablache moved in his chair; one of
+his great fat hands rested for a moment on John's coat sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, old friend,&quot; he said, with a hoarse, whistling breath. &quot;Shall you
+play&mdash;play the game? It will be a grand finale to the
+many&mdash;er&mdash;comfortable games we have played together. Well? Thirteen
+'Jackpots,' John&mdash;yes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And&mdash;and if I consented&mdash;mind, I only say 'if.'&quot; The rancher's face
+twitched nervously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You would stand to win a fortune&mdash;and also one for your niece.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes. I might win. My luck may turn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must&mdash;you cannot always lose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite right&mdash;I must win soon. It is a great offer&mdash;a splendid stake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes, Lablache, I will play. God, man! I will play you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Beads of sweat stood on John Allandale's forehead as he literally hurled
+his acceptance at his companion. He accepted in the manner of one who
+knows he is setting at defiance all honesty and right, urged to such a
+course by an all-mastering passion, which he is incapable of resisting.</p>
+
+<p>Strange was the nature of this man. He knew himself as it is given to
+few weak men to know themselves. He knew that he wished to do this
+thing. He knew, also, that he was doing wrong. Moreover he knew that he
+wished to stand by Jacky and be true to his great affection for her. He
+was under the influence of potent spirit, and yet his thoughts and
+judgment were clear upon the subject. His mania had possessed him and he
+would play from choice; and all the while he could hear the voice of
+conscience rating him. He would have preferred to play now, but then he
+remembered the quantity of spirit he had consumed. He must take no
+chances. When he played Lablache he must be sober. The delay of one
+night, however, he knew would bring him agonies of remorse, therefore he
+would settle everything now so that in the throes of conscience he could
+not refuse to play. He feared delay. He feared the vacillation which the
+solitary hours of the night might bring to him. He leant forward and
+thickly urged the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When shall it be? Quick, man, let us have no delay. The time,
+Lablache&mdash;the time and place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache wheezed unctuously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's the spirit I like, John,&quot; he said, fingering his watch-chain
+with his fat hands. &quot;To business. The place&mdash;er&mdash;yes.&quot; A moment's
+thought whilst the rancher waited with impatience. &quot;Ah, I know. That
+implement shed on your fifty-acre pasture. Excellent. There is a living
+room in it. You used to keep a man there. It is disused now. It will
+suit us admirably. We can use that room. And the time&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To-morrow, Lablache. It must be to-morrow. I could not wait longer,&quot;
+broke in the other, in a voice husky with eagerness and liquor. &quot;After
+dark, when no one can see us going out to the shed. No one must know,
+Lablache, mind&mdash;no one. Jacky will not dream of what we are doing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. To-morrow, then. At eleven o'clock at night, John. And as
+you say in the meantime&mdash;mum.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was pleased with the rancher's suggestion. It quite fell in
+with his own ideas. Everything must be done quickly now. He must get
+away from Foss River without delay.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes. Mum's the word.&quot; &quot;Poker&quot; John indicated his approval with an
+upward leer as Lablache rose from his chair, and a grotesque pursing of
+his lips and his forefinger at the side of his nose. Then he, too,
+struggled to his feet, and, with unsteady hand, poured out two stiff
+&quot;horns&quot; of whisky.</p>
+
+<p>He held one out to the money-lender and took the other himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I drink to the game,&quot; he said haltingly. &quot;May&mdash;fortune come my way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache nodded comprehensively and slowly raised his glass.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fortune is yours anyhow. Therefore I trust that I win the game.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two men silently drank. After which Lablache turned to go. He paused
+at the French window and plunged his hand into his coat pocket.</p>
+
+<p>The night was dark outside, and again he became a prey to his moral
+terror of the half-breed raider. He drew out his revolver and opened the
+chamber. The weapon was loaded. Then he turned to old John who was
+staring at him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's risky for me to move about at night, John. I fear Retief has not
+done with me yet. Good-night,&quot; and he passed out on to the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was the victim of a foreboding. It is a custom to laugh at
+forebodings and set them down to the vagaries of a disordered stomach.
+We laugh too at superstition. Yet how often do we find that the
+portentous significance of these things is actually realized in fact.
+Lablache dreaded Retief.</p>
+
+<p>What would the next twenty-four hours bring forth?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV" />CHAPTER XXV - UNCLE AND NIECE</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John's remorse came swiftly, but not swiftly or strongly enough
+to make him give up the game. After Lablache had taken his departure the
+old rancher sat drinking far into the night. With each fresh potation
+his conscience became less persistent in its protest. He sought no bed
+that night, for gradually his senses left him and he slept where he sat,
+until, towards daybreak he awoke, partially sober and shivering with
+cold. Then he arose, and, wrapping himself in a heavy overcoat, flung
+himself upon a couch, where he again sought sobriety in sleep.</p>
+
+<p>He awoke again soon after daylight. His head was racked with pain. He,
+at first, had only a dim recollection of what had occurred the night
+before. There was a vague sense of something unpleasant having happened,
+but he did not attempt to recall it. He went to his bedroom and douched
+himself with cold water. Then he set out for the kitchen in search of
+coffee with which to slack his burning thirst. It was not until he had
+performed his ablutions that the whole truth of his interview with
+Lablache came back to him. Immediately, now that the effect of the
+liquor had passed off, he became a prey to terrible remorse.</p>
+
+<p>Possibly had Jacky been at hand at that moment, the whole course of
+events might have been altered. Her presence, a good breakfast, and
+occupation might have given him strength to carry out the rejection of
+Lablache's challenge which his remorse suggested. However, none of these
+things were at hand, and John Allandale set out, from force of habit, to
+get his morning &quot;Collins&quot; down at &quot;old man&quot; Smith's. Something to pull
+him together before he encountered his niece, he told himself.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fatal delusion. &quot;Old man&quot; Smith sold drink for gain. The more
+he sold the better he liked it. John Allandale's &quot;Collins&quot; developed, as
+it always did now, into three or four potent drinks. So that by the time
+he returned to the ranch for breakfast his remorse was pushed well into
+the background, and with feverish craving he lodged for the fateful
+game.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his devotion to the bottle John Allandale usually made a
+hearty breakfast. But this morning the sight of Jacky presiding at his
+table upset him, and he left his food almost untasted. Remorse was
+deadened but conscience was yet unsilenced within him. Every time she
+spoke to him, every time he encountered her piercing gray eyes he felt
+himself to be a worse than Judas. In his rough, exaggerated way he told
+himself that he was selling this girl as surely as did the old slave
+owners sell their slaves in bygone days. He endeavored to persuade
+himself that what he was doing was for the best, and certainly that it
+was forced upon him. He would not admit that his mania for poker was the
+main factor in his acceptance of Lablache's terms. Gradually, however,
+his thoughts became intolerable to him, and when Jacky at last remarked
+on the fact that he was eating nothing and drinking only his coffee, he
+could stand it no longer. He pushed his chair back and rose from the
+table, and, muttering an excuse, fled from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle's precipitate flight alarmed Jacky. She had seen, as anybody
+with half an eye could see, that he had had a heavy night. The bleared
+eyes, the puffed lids, the working, nervous face were simple enough
+evidence. She knew, too, that he had already been drinking this morning.
+But these things were not new to her, only painful facts which she was
+unable to alter; but his strange behavior and lack of appetite were
+things to set her thinking.</p>
+
+<p>She was a very active-minded girl. It was not her way to sit wondering
+and puzzling over anything she could not understand. She had a knack of
+setting herself to unravel problems which required explanation in the
+most common-sense way. After giving her uncle time to leave the
+house&mdash;intuition told her that he would do so&mdash;she rose and rang the
+bell. Then she moved to the window while she waited for an answer to her
+summons. She saw the burly figure of her uncle walking swiftly down
+towards the settlement and in the direction of the saloon.</p>
+
+<p>She turned with a sigh as a servant entered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did any one call last night while I was out?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not for you, miss.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, miss, but Mr. Lablache was here. He was with your uncle for a long
+time&mdash;in the office.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did he come in with Mr. Allandale?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, no, miss, the master didn't go out. At least not that I know of.
+Mr. Lablache didn't call exactly. I think he just came straight to the
+office. I shouldn't have known he was there, only I was passing the door
+and heard his voice&mdash;and the master's.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, that will do&mdash;just wait a moment, though. Say, is Silas around?
+Just find him and send him right along. Tell him to come to the
+veranda.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The servant departed, and Jacky sat down at a writing-table and wrote a
+note to &quot;Lord&quot; Bill. The note was brief but direct in its tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can you see me this afternoon? Shall be in after tea.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>That was all she put, and added her strong, bold signature to it. Silas
+came to the window and she gave him the note with instructions to
+deliver it into the hands of the Hon. Bunning-Ford.</p>
+
+<p>The letter dispatched she felt easier in her mind.</p>
+
+<p>What had Lablache been closeted with her uncle for? This was the
+question which puzzled&mdash;nay, alarmed her. She had seen her uncle early
+on the previous evening, and he had seemed happy enough. She wished now,
+when she had returned from visiting Mrs. Abbot, that she had thought to
+see if her uncle was in. It had become such a custom for him lately to
+be out all the evening that she had long ceased her childhood's custom
+of saying &quot;Good-night&quot; to him before retiring to bed. One thing was
+certain, she felt her uncle's strange behavior this morning was in some
+way due to Lablache's visit. She meant to find out what that visit
+meant.</p>
+
+<p>To this end several plans occurred to her, but in each case were
+abandoned as unsuitable.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; she murmured at last, &quot;I guess I'll tax him with it. He'll tell
+me. If Lablache means war, well&mdash;I've a notion he'll get a hustling he
+don't consider.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then she left the sitting-room that she might set about her day's work.
+She would see her uncle at dinner-time.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River had not yet risen to the civilized state of late dinners and
+indigestion. Early rising and hard work demanded early meals and hearty
+feeding. Dinner generally occurred at noon&mdash;an hour at which European
+society thinks of taking its <i>d&eacute;jeuner</i>. By rising late society can thus
+avoid what little fresh, wholesome air there is to be obtained in a
+large city. Civilization jibs at early rising. Foss River was still a
+wild and savage country.</p>
+
+<p>At noon Jacky came in to dinner. She had not seen her uncle since
+breakfast. The old man had not returned from the settlement. Truth to
+tell he wished to avoid his niece as much as possible for to-day. As
+dinner-time came round he grew nervous and uncomfortable, and was half
+inclined to accept &quot;old man&quot; Smith's invitation to dine at the saloon.
+Then he realized that this would only alarm Jacky and set her thinking.
+Therefore he plucked up the shattered remains of his moral courage and
+returned to the ranch. When a man looses his last grip on his
+self-respect he sinks with cruel rapidity. &quot;Poker&quot; John told himself
+that he was betraying his niece's affection, and with this assurance he
+told himself that he was the lowest-down cur in the country. The natural
+consequence to a man of his habit and propensity was&mdash;drink. The one
+time in his life when he should have refrained from indulgence he drank;
+and with each drink he made the fatal promise to himself that it should
+be the last.</p>
+
+<p>When Jacky saw him swaying as he came up towards the house she could
+have cried out in very anguish. It smote her to the heart to see the old
+man whom she so loved in this condition. Yet when he lurched on to the
+veranda she smiled lovingly up into his face and gave no sign that she
+had any knowledge of his state.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come right along, uncle,&quot; she said gayly, linking her arm within his,
+&quot;dinner is on. You must be good and hungry, you made such a poor
+breakfast this morning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, child, I wasn't very well,&quot; he mumbled thickly. &quot;Not very
+well&mdash;now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You poor dear, come along,&quot; and she led him in through the open window.</p>
+
+<p>During the meal Jacky talked incessantly. She talked of everything but
+what had upset her uncle. She avoided any reference to Lablache with
+great care. But, in spite of her cheerfulness, she could not rouse the
+degenerate old man. Rather it seemed that, as the meal progressed, he
+became gloomier. The truth was the girl's apparent light-heartedness
+added to his self-revilings and made him feel more criminal than ever.
+He ate his food mechanically, and he drank glass after glass of ale.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky heaved a sigh of relief when the meal was over. She felt that she
+could not much longer have kept up her light-hearted talk. Her uncle was
+about to move from the table. The girl stayed him with a gesture. He had
+eaten a good dinner and she was satisfied. Now she would question him.</p>
+
+<p>It is strange how a woman, in whatever relationship she may stand, loves
+to see a man eat well. Possibly she understands the effect of a good
+dinner upon the man in whom she centers her affection; possibly it is
+the natural maternal instinct for his well-being.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle, what did Lablache come to see you for last night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The question was abrupt. It had the effect of bringing the rancher back
+to his seat with a drunken lurch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh?&quot; he queried, blinking nervously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What did he come for?&quot; Jacky persisted.</p>
+
+<p>The girl could be relentless even with her uncle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;oh&mdash;er&mdash;talk bus&mdash;bus'ness, child&mdash;bus'ness,&quot; and he
+attempted to get up from his chair again.</p>
+
+<p>But Jacky would not let him go.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wait a moment, uncle dear, I want to talk to you. I sha'n't keep you
+long.&quot; The old man looked anywhere but at his companion. A cold sweat
+was on his forehead, and his cheek twitched painfully under the steady
+gaze of the girl's somber eyes. &quot;I don't often get a chance of talking
+to you now,&quot; she went on, with a slight touch of bitterness. &quot;I just
+want to talk about that skunk, Lablache. I guess he didn't pass the
+evening talking of Retief&mdash;and what he intends to do towards his
+capture? Say, uncle, what was it about?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man grasped at the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes, child. It was Retief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He kept his eyes averted. The girl was not deceived.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All the time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John remained silent. He would have lied but could not.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was a moral pressure. The old man turned for relief to his
+avuncular authority.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I must go. You've no right&mdash;question me,&quot; he stuttered. &quot;I refu&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, uncle, you won't refuse me.&quot; The girl had risen and had moved round
+to where the old man sat. She fondled him lovingly and his attempt at
+angry protest died within him. &quot;Come, dear, tell me all about it. You
+are worried and I can help you. What did he threaten you with? I
+suppose he wants money,&quot; contemptuously. &quot;How much?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old drunkard was powerless to resist her loving appeal.</p>
+
+<p>He was cornered. Another might have lied and so escaped, but John
+Allandale's weakness was such that he had not the courage to resort to
+subterfuge. Moreover, there was a faint spark of honor nickering deep
+down in his kindly heart. The girl's affectionate display was surely
+fanning that spark into a flame. Would the flame grow or would it
+sparkle up for one brief moment and then go out from pure lack of fuel?
+Suddenly something of the truth of the cause of her uncle's distress
+flashed across Jacky's mind. She knew Lablache's wishes in regard to
+herself. Perhaps she was the subject of that interview.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle, it is I who am causing you this trouble. What is it that
+Lablache wants of me?&quot; She asked the question with her cheek pressed to
+the old man's face. His whisky-laden breath reeked in her nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>Her question took him unawares, and he started up pushing her from him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who&mdash;who told you, girl?&quot; His bleared eyes were now turned upon her,
+and they gazed fearfully into hers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought so,&quot; she exclaimed, smiling back into the troubled face. &quot;No
+one told me, uncle, I guess that beast wants to marry me. Say, uncle,
+you can tell me everything right here. I'll help you. He's smart, but he
+can't mate with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But&mdash;but&mdash;&quot; He struggled to collect his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No 'buts,' dear. I've refused Lablache once. I guess I can size up the
+racket he thinks to play. Money&mdash;money! He'd like to buy me, I take it.
+Say, uncle, can't we frolic him some? Now&mdash;what did he say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I&mdash;can't tell you, child,&quot; the old man protested desperately. Then he
+weakened further before those deep, steadfast eyes. &quot;Don't&mdash;press me.
+Don'&mdash;press me.&quot; His voice contained maudlin tears. &quot;I'm a vill'n,
+girl. I'm worse. Don'&mdash;look a' me&mdash;like that.
+Ja'y&mdash;Ja'y&mdash;I've&mdash;sol'&mdash;you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The miserable old man flung himself back in his chair and his head bowed
+until his chin sank heavily upon his chest. Two great tears welled into
+his bloodshot eyes and trickled slowly down his seared old cheeks. It
+was a pitiable sight. Jacky looked on silently for a moment. Her eyes
+took in every detail of that picture of despair. She had heard the old
+man's words but took no heed of them. She was thinking very hard.
+Suddenly she seemed to arrive at a decision. Her laugh rang out, and she
+came and knelt at her uncle's side.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you've sold me, you old dear, and not a bad thing too. What's the
+price?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle raised his bowed head. Her smiling face dried his tears and
+put fresh heart into him. He had expected bitter invective, but instead
+the girl smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky's task now became a simple one. A mere matter of pumping. Sharp
+questions and rambling replies. Bit by bit she learned the story of
+Lablache's proposal and the manner in which an acceptance had been
+forced upon her uncle. She did not relinquish her task until the
+minutest detail had been gleaned. At last she was satisfied with her
+cross-examination.</p>
+
+<p>She rose to her feet and passed her hand with a caressing movement over
+her uncle's head, gazing the while out of the window. Her mind was made
+up. Her uncle needed her help now. That help should be his. She condoned
+his faults; she saw nothing but that which was lovable in his weakness.
+Hers was now the strength to protect him, who, in the days of his best
+manhood had sheltered her from the cruel struggles of a life in the
+half-breed camp, for such, at the death of her impecunious father, must
+otherwise have been her lot.</p>
+
+<p>Now she looked down into that worn, old face, and her brisk,
+business-like tones roused him into new life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle, you must meet Lablache and play&mdash;the game. For the rest, leave
+it to me. All I ask is&mdash;no more whisky to-day. Stay right here and have
+a sleep. Guess you might go an' lie down. I'll call you for supper. Then
+you'll be fit. One thing you must remember; watch that ugly-faced cur
+when you play. See he don't cheat any. I'll tell you more before you
+start out. Come right along now and have that sleep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man got up and the girl led him from the room. She saw him to
+his bedroom and then left him. She decided that, for herself, she would
+not leave the house until she had seen Bill. She must get her uncle
+sober before he went to meet Lablache.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI" />CHAPTER XXVI - IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Foss River Settlement was, at the time, a very small place, and of
+practically no importance. It was brought into existence by the
+neighborhood of one or two large ranches; these ranches employed
+considerable labor. Foss River might be visited by an earthquake, and,
+provided the earthquake was not felt elsewhere, the world would not be
+likely to hear of it for weeks. The newspapers of the Western cities
+were in their infancy, and contented themselves with the news of their
+own towns and feverish criticisms of politics which were beyond the
+understanding of their editors. Progress in the West was very
+slow&mdash;almost at a standstill.</p>
+
+<p>After the death of Horrocks the police had withdrawn to report and to
+receive augmentation. No one felt alarm at their absence. The
+inhabitants of Foss River were a self-reliant people&mdash;accustomed to look
+to themselves for the remedy of a grievance. Besides, Horrocks, they
+said, had shown himself to be a duffer&mdash;merely a tracker, a prairie-man
+and not the man to bring Retief to justice. Already the younger members
+of the settlement and district were forming themselves into a vigilance
+committee. The elders&mdash;those to whom the younger looked for a lead in
+such matters&mdash;had chosen to go to the police; now the younger of the
+settlement decided to act for themselves.</p>
+
+<p>This was the condition and feeling in Foss River at the time of the
+death of Horrocks; this was the state of affairs when the <i>insouciant</i>
+Bill leisurely strolled into the sitting-room at the Foss River Ranch,
+about the time that Joaquina Allandale had finished her tea. With the
+familiarity of the West, Bill entered by the French window. His lazy
+smile was undisturbed. He might have been paying an ordinary call
+instead of answering a summons which he knew must be a matter of
+emergency, for it was understood between these two that private meetings
+were tabooed, except when necessity demanded them.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky's greeting was not reassuring, but her lover's expression remained
+unchanged, except that his weary eyelids further unclosed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess we're side-tracked, Bill,&quot; she said meaningly. &quot;The line's
+blocked. Signals dead against us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked into her eyes; then he turned and closed the window,
+latching it securely. The door was closed. His keen eyes noted this.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The next twelve hours must finish our game.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; the girl went on, &quot;it is Lablache's doing. We must settle our
+reckoning with him to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill flung himself into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will you explain?&mdash;I don't understand. May I smoke?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky smiled. The request was so unnecessary. She always liked Bill's
+nonchalance. It conveyed such a suggestion of latent power.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, smoke, Bill; smoke and get your thinking box in order. My yarn
+won't take a deal of time to tell. But it'll take a deal of thought to
+upset Lablache's last move, without&mdash;shootin'.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Um&mdash;shooting's an evil, but sometimes&mdash;necessary. What's his racket?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl told her story quickly. She forgot nothing. She never allowed
+herself to fall into the womanly mistake of omitting details, however
+small.</p>
+
+<p>Bill fully appreciated her cleverness in this direction. He could trust
+what she said implicitly. At the conclusion of the story he sat up and
+rolled another cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And your uncle is upstairs in bed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, when he wakes I guess he'll need a bracer. He'll be sober. He must
+play. Lablache means to win.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, he means to win. He has had a bad scare.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are we going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl eyed her lover keenly. She saw by his manner that he was
+thinking rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The game must be interrupted&mdash;with another scare.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are you going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Burn him out&mdash;his store. And then&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And then?&quot; eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Retief will be present at the game. Tell him what has happened and&mdash;if
+he doesn't leave Foss River&mdash;shoot him. Mortgages and all records of
+debts, etc., are in his store.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>After expressing her approval the girl sat gazing into her lover's face.
+They talked a little longer, then Bill rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eleven o'clock to-night you say is the appointed hour?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. I shall meet you at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Better not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I am going to be there,&quot; with a decisive nod. &quot;One cannot be sure.
+You may need me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. Good-by, little woman.&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill bent and kissed her.
+Then something very like a sigh escaped him. &quot;I think with you this game
+is nearly up. To-night will settle things one way or the other.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. Trouble is not far off. Say, Bill, when it comes, I want to be
+with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked tenderly down into the upturned face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is that why you insist on coming to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Another embrace and Bill left the house.</p>
+
+<p>He sauntered leisurely down the avenue of pines. He kept straight on
+towards the muskeg. Then he turned away from the settlement, and was
+soon lost behind the rising ground which shored the great mire. Once out
+of sight of the house he quickened his pace, gradually swinging away
+from the keg, and heading towards the half-breed camp.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River might have been deserted for all signs of life he
+encountered. The prairie was calmly silent. Not even the call of the
+birds broke the stillness around. The heat of the afternoon had lulled
+all nature to repose.</p>
+
+<p>He strode on swiftly until he came to a small bluff. Here he halted and
+threw himself full length upon the ground in a welcome shade. He was
+within sight of the half-breed camp. He shifted his position until his
+head was in the sun. In this way he could see the scattered dwellings of
+the prairie outcasts. Then he drew a small piece of looking-glass from
+his pocket and held it out in the sun. Turning and twisting it in the
+direction of the camp, as might a child who wishes to dazzle a
+play-fellow's eyes. For several minutes he thus manipulated his
+impromptu heliograph. Then, as he suddenly beheld an answering flash in
+the distance, he desisted, and returned the glass to his pocket. Now he
+drew back in the shade and composed himself to smoke.</p>
+
+<p>The half-closed eyes of the recumbent man gazed steadily out towards the
+camp. He had nearly finished his third cigarette when his quick ears
+caught the sound of footsteps. Instantly he sat up. The steps grew
+louder and then round the sheltering bush came the thick-set form of
+Gautier. He was accompanied by an evil-looking dog which growled sulkily
+as it espied the white man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ugh! Hot walkin',&quot; said the newcomer, by way of greeting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so hot as it'll be to-night,&quot; said the white man, quietly. &quot;Sit
+down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;More bonfires, boss?&quot; said the half-breed, with a meaning grin, seating
+himself as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;More bonfires. See you, I want six of the boys at Lablache's store
+to-night at eleven o'clock. We are going to burn his place. It will be
+quite easy. Lablache will be away, and only his clerks on the premises.
+The cellar underneath the building is lit by barred windows, two under
+the front, and two under the office at the back. All you have to do is
+to break the glass of the window at the back and pour in a couple of
+gallons of coal oil. Then push in some straw, and then light a piece of
+oil-soaked rope and drop it in. The cellar is full of cases of goods and
+barrels of oil. The fire will be unextinguishable. Directly it is well
+lit see that the clerks are warned. We want no lives lost. You
+understand? The stables are adjacent and will catch fire too. I sha'n't
+be there until later. There will be no risk and lots of loot. Savee?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The cunning face of the half-breed was lit by an unholy grin. He rubbed
+his hands with the unctuous anticipation of a shop-walker. Truly, he
+thought, this white man was a man after his own heart. He wagged his
+head in approval.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Easy&mdash;easy? It is childlike,&quot; he said in ecstasy. &quot;I have long thought
+of it, sure. An' thar is a big store of whisky thar, eh, boss?
+Good&mdash;good! And what time will you come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When the fire is lit. I go to deal with Lablache. Look you here,
+Gautier, you owe that man a grudge. You would kill him but you don't
+dare. I may pay off that grudge for you. Pay it by a means that is
+better than killing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Torture,&quot; grinned the half-breed.</p>
+
+<p>Bill nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now see and be off. And don't make any mistake, or we may all swing for
+it. Tell Baptiste he must go over the keg at once and bring Golden Eagle
+to my shack at about half-past ten. Tell him to be punctual. Now scoot.
+No mistakes, or&mdash;&quot; and Bill made a significant gesture.</p>
+
+<p>The man understood and hurried away. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was satisfied that his
+orders would be carried out to the letter. The service he demanded of
+this man was congenial service, in so far that it promised loot in
+plenty and easily acquired. Moreover, the criminal side of the
+half-breed's nature was tickled. A liberal reward for honesty would be
+less likely to secure good service from such as Gautier than a chance of
+gain for shady work. It was the half-breed nature.</p>
+
+<p>After the departure of the half-breed, Bill remained where he was for
+some time. He sat with his hands clasped round his knees, gazing
+thoughtfully out towards the camp. He was reviewing his forces and
+mentally struggling to penetrate the pall which obscured the future. He
+felt himself to be playing a winning game; at least, that his vengeance
+and chastisement of Lablache had been made ridiculously easy for him.
+But now he had come to that point when he wondered what must be the
+outcome of it all as regarded himself and the girl he loved. Would his
+persecution drive Lablache from Foss River to the security of Calford,
+Where he would be able to follow him and still further prosecute his
+inexorable vengeance? Or would he still choose to remain? He knew
+Lablache to be a strong man, but he also knew, by the money-lender's
+sudden determination to force Jacky into marriage with him, that he had
+received a scare. He could not decide on the point. But he inclined to
+the belief that Lablache must go after to-night. He would not spare him.
+He had yet a trump card to play. He would be present at the game of
+cards, and&mdash;well, time would show.</p>
+
+<p>He threw away his mangled cigarette end and rose from the ground. One
+glance of his keen eyes told him that no one was in sight. He strolled
+out upon the prairie and made his way back to the settlement. He need
+not have troubled himself about the future. The future would work itself
+out, and no effort of his would be capable of directing its course. A
+higher power than man's was governing the actions of the participants in
+the Foss River drama.</p>
+
+<p>For the rest of the day &quot;Lord&quot; Bill moved about the settlement in his
+customary idle fashion. He visited the saloon; he showed himself on the
+market-place. He discussed the doings of Retief with the butcher, the
+smith, Dr. Abbot. And, as the evening closed in and the sun's power
+lessened, he identified himself with others as idle as himself, and
+basked in the warmth of its feeble, dying rays.</p>
+
+<p>When darkness closed in he went to his shack and prepared his evening
+meal with a simple directness which no thoughts of coming events could
+upset. Bill was always philosophical. He ate to live, and consequently
+was not particular about his food. He passed the evening between thought
+and tobacco, and only an occasional flashing of his lazy eyes gave any
+sign of the trend of his mental effort.</p>
+
+<p>At a few minutes past ten he went into his bedroom and carefully locked
+the door. Then he drew from beneath his bed a small chest; it was an
+ammunition chest of very powerful make. The small sliding lid was
+securely padlocked. This he opened and drew from within several articles
+of apparel and a small cardboard box.</p>
+
+<p>Next he divested himself of his own tweed clothes and donned the things
+he had taken from the box. These consisted of a pair of moleskin
+trousers, a pair of chaps, a buckskin shirt and a battered Stetson hat.
+From the cardboard box he took out a tin of greasy-looking stuff and a
+long black wig made of horse hair. Stepping to a glass he smeared his
+face with the grease, covering his own white flesh carefully right down
+to the chest and shoulders, also his hands. It was a brownish ocher and
+turned his skin to the copperish hue of the Indian. The wig was
+carefully adjusted and secured by sprigs to his own fair hair. This,
+with the hat well jammed down upon his head, completed the
+transformation, and out from the looking-glass peered the strong, eagle
+face of the redoubtable half-breed, Retief.</p>
+
+<p>He then filled the chest with his own clothes and relocked it. Suddenly
+his quick ear caught the sound of some one approaching. He looked at his
+watch; it wanted two minutes to half-past ten. He waited.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he heard the rattle of a stick down the featheredged boarding
+of the outer walls of the hut. He picked up his revolver belt and
+secured it about his waist, and then, putting out the light, unlocked
+the back door which opened out of his bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>A horse was standing outside, and a man held the bridle reins looped
+upon his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That you, Baptiste?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yup.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good, you are punctual.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's as well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I go to join the boys,&quot; the half-breed said slowly. &quot;And you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I&mdash;oh, I go to settle a last account with Lablache,&quot; replied Bill, with
+a mirthless laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked sharply at the man. He understood the native distrust of the
+Breed. Then he nodded vaguely in the direction of the Foss River Ranch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yonder. In old John's fifty-acre pasture. Lablache and John meet at the
+tool-shed there to-night. Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you go not to the fire?&quot; Baptiste's voice had a surprised ring in
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not until later. I must be at the meeting soon after eleven.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed was silent for a minute. He seemed to be calculating. At
+length he spoke. His words conveyed resolve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is good. Guess you may need assistance. I'll be there&mdash;and some of
+the boys. We ain't goin' ter interfere&mdash;if things goes smooth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You need not come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No? Nuthin' more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing. Keep the boys steady. Don't burn the clerks in the store.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;S'long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;S'long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill vaulted into the saddle, and Golden Eagle moved restively
+away.</p>
+
+<p>It was as well that Foss River was a sleepy place. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's
+precautions were not elaborate. But then he knew the ways of the
+settlement.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Abbot chanced to be standing in the doorway of the saloon. Bill's
+shack was little more than a hundred yards away. The doctor was about to
+step across to see if he were in, for the purpose of luring his friend
+into a game. Poker was not so plentiful with the doctor now since Bill
+had dropped out of Lablache's set.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the dim outline of a horseman moving away from the back of &quot;Lord&quot;
+Bill's hut. His curiosity was aroused. He hastened across to the shack.
+He found it locked up, and in darkness. He turned away wondering. And as
+he turned away he found himself almost face to face with Baptiste. The
+doctor knew the man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Evening, Baptiste.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Evening,&quot; the man growled.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was about to speak again but the man hurried away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Damned funny,&quot; the medical man muttered. Then he moved off towards his
+own home. Somehow he had forgotten his wish for poker.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII" />CHAPTER XXVII - THE LAST GAMBLE</h2>
+
+
+<p>The fifty-acre pasture was situated nearly a quarter of a mile away to
+the left of John Allandale's house. Then, too, the whole length of it
+must be crossed before the implement shed be reached. This would add
+another half a mile to the distance, for the field was long and narrow,
+skirting as it did the hay slough which provided the ranch with hay. The
+pasture was on the sloping side of the slough, and on the top of the
+ridge stretched a natural fence of pines nearly two miles in extent.</p>
+
+<p>The shed was erected for the accommodation of mowers, horse-rakes, and
+the necessary appurtenances for haying. At one end, as Lablache had
+said, was a living-room. It was called so by courtesy. It was little
+better than the rest of the building, except that there was a crazy door
+to it&mdash;also a window; a rusty iron stove, small, and&mdash;when a fire burned
+in it&mdash;fierce, was crowded into a corner. Now, however, the stove was
+dismantled, and lengths of stove pipe were littered about the floor
+around it. A rough bed, supported on trestles, and innocent of bedding,
+filled one end of this abode; a table made of packing cases, and two
+chairs of the Windsor type, one fairly sound and the other minus a back,
+completed the total of rude furniture necessary for a &quot;hired man's&quot;
+requirements.</p>
+
+<p>A living-room, the money-lender had said, therefore we must accept his
+statement.</p>
+
+<p>A reddish, yellow light from a dingy oil lamp glowed sullenly, and added
+to the cheerlessness of the apartment. At intervals black smoke belched
+from the chimney top of the lamp in response to the draughts which blew
+through the sieve-like boarding of the shed. One must feel sorry for
+the hired man whose lot is cast in such cheerless quarters.</p>
+
+<p>It was past eleven. Lablache and John Allandale were seated at the
+table. The lurid light did not improve the expression of their faces.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was eager&mdash;keenly eager now that Jacky had urged him to the
+game. Moreover, he was sober&mdash;sober as the proverbial &quot;judge.&quot; Also he
+was suspicious of his opponent. Jacky had warned him. He looked very old
+as he sat at that table. His senility appeared in every line of his
+face; in every movement of his shaking hands; in every glance of his
+bleared eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, also, was changed slightly, but it was not in the direction of
+age; he showed signs of elation, triumph. He felt that he was about to
+accomplish the object which had long been his, and, at the same time,
+outwit the half-breed who had so lately come into his life, with such
+disastrous results to his, the money-lender's, peaceful enjoyment of his
+ill-gotten wealth.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache turned his lashless eyes in the direction of the window. It was
+a square aperture of about two feet in extent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are not likely to be interrupted,&quot; he said wheezily, &quot;but it never
+does to chance anything. Shall we cover the window? A light in this room
+is unusual&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, let us cover it.&quot; &quot;Poker&quot; John chafed at the delay. &quot;No one is
+likely to come this way, though.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked about for something which would answer his purpose.
+There was nothing handy. He drew out his great bandanna and tried it. It
+exactly covered the window. So he secured it. It would serve to darken
+the light to any one who might chance to be within sight of the shed. He
+returned to his seat. He bulged over it as he sat down, and its legs
+creaked ominously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have brought three packs of cards,&quot; he said, laying them upon the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So have I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John looked directly into the other's bilious eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah&mdash;then we have six packs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;six.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whose shall we&mdash;&quot; Lablache began.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll cut for it. Ace low. Low wins.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender smiled at the rancher's eagerness. The two men cut in
+silence. Lablache cut a &quot;three&quot;; &quot;Poker&quot; John, a &quot;queen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We will use your cards, John.&quot; The money-lender's face expressed an
+unctuous benignity.</p>
+
+<p>The rancher was surprised, and his tell-tale cheek twitched
+uncomfortably.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For deal,&quot; said Lablache, stripping one of John's packs and passing it
+to his companion. The rancher shuffled and cut&mdash;Lablache cut. The deal
+went to the latter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We want something to score on,&quot; the money-lender said. &quot;My memorandum
+pad&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll have nothing on the table, please.&quot; John had been warned.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged and smiled. He seemed to imply that the precaution was
+unnecessary. &quot;Poker&quot; John was in desperate earnest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A piece of chalk&mdash;on the wall.&quot; The rancher produced the chalk and set
+it on the floor close by the wall and returned to his seat.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shuffled clumsily. His fingers seemed too gross to handle
+cards. And yet he could shuffle well, and his fingers were, in reality,
+most sensitive. John Allandale looked on eagerly. The money-lender,
+contrary to his custom, dealt swiftly&mdash;so swiftly that the bleared eyes
+of his opponent could not follow his movements.</p>
+
+<p>Both men picked up their cards. The old instincts of poker were not so
+pronounced in the rancher as they used to be. Doubtless the game he was
+now playing did not need such mask-like impassivity of expression as an
+ordinary game would. After all, the pot opened, it merely became a
+question of who held the best hand. There would be no betting. John's
+eyes lighted up as he glanced at the index numerals. He held two
+&quot;Jacks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can you?&quot; Lablache's husky voice rasped in the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dealer eyed his opponent for a second. His face was that of a graven
+image.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How many?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Three.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender passed three cards across the table. Then he discarded
+two cards from his own hand and drew two more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What have you got?&quot; he asked, with a grim pursing of his sagging lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two pairs. Jacks up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache laid his own cards on the table, spreading them out face
+upwards for the rancher to see. He held three &quot;twos.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One to you,&quot; said John Allandale; and he went and chalked the score
+upon the wall.</p>
+
+<p>There was something very business-like about these two men when they
+played cards. And possibly it was only natural. The quiet way in which
+they played implied the deadly earnestness of their game. Their
+surroundings, too, were impressive when associated with the secrecy of
+their doings.</p>
+
+<p>Each man meant to win, and in both were all the baser passions fully
+aroused. Neither would spare the other, each would do his utmost.
+Lablache was sure. John was consumed with a deadly nervousness. But John
+Allandale at cards was the soul of honor. Lablache was confident in his
+superior manipulation&mdash;not play&mdash;of cards. He knew that, bar accidents,
+he must win. The mystery of being able to deal himself &quot;three of a kind&quot;
+and even better was no mystery to him. He preferred his usual
+method&mdash;the method of &quot;reflection,&quot; as he called it; but in the game he
+was now playing such a method would be useless for obvious reasons.
+First of all, knowing his opponent's cards would only be of advantage
+where betting was to ensue. Now he needed the clumsier, if more sure,
+method of dealing himself a hand. And he did not hesitate to adopt it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John dealt The pot was not opened. Lablache again dealt. Still
+the hand passed without the pot being opened. The next time John dealt
+Lablache opened the pot and was promptly beaten. He drew to two queens
+and missed. John drew to a pair of sevens and got a third. The game was
+one all. After this Lablache won three pots in succession and the game
+stood four&mdash;one, in favor of the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>The old rancher's face more than indicated the state of the game. His
+features were gray and drawn. Already he saw his girl married to the man
+opposite to him. For an instant his weakness led him to think of
+refusing to play further&mdash;to defy Lablache and bid him do his worst.
+Then he remembered that the girl herself had insisted that he must see
+the game through&mdash;besides, he might yet win. He forced his thoughts to
+the coming hand. He was to deal.</p>
+
+<p>The deal, as far as he was concerned, was successful, His spirits rose.</p>
+
+<p>Four&mdash;two.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache took up the cards to deal. John was watching as though his life
+depended upon what he saw. Lablache's clumsy shuffle annoyed him. The
+lashless eyes of the money-lender were bent upon the cards, but he had
+no difficulty in observing the old man's attention. This unusual
+attention he set down to a natural excitement. He had not the smallest
+idea that the old man suspected him. He passed the cards to be cut. The
+rancher cut them carelessly. He had a natural cut. The pack was nearly
+halved. Lablache had prepared for this.</p>
+
+<p>The hand was dealt, and the money-lender won with three aces, all of
+which he had drawn in a five-card draw. He had discarded a pair of nines
+to make the heavy draw. It was clumsy, but he had been forced to it. The
+position of the aces in the pack he had known, and&mdash;well, he meant to
+win.</p>
+
+<p>Five&mdash;two.</p>
+
+<p>The clumsiness of that deal was too palpable. Old John suspected, but
+held his tongue. His anger rose, and the drawn face flushed with the
+suddenness of lightning. He was in a dangerous mood. Lablache saw the
+flush, and a sudden fear gripped his heart. He passed the cards to the
+other, and then, involuntarily, his hand dropped into the right-hand
+pocket of his coat. It came in contact with his revolver&mdash;and stayed
+there.</p>
+
+<p>The next hand passed without the pot being opened&mdash;and the next.
+Lablache was a little cautious. The next deal resulted in favor of the
+rancher.</p>
+
+<p>Five&mdash;three.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache again took the cards. This time he meant to get his hand in the
+deal. At that moment the money-lender would have given a cool thousand
+had a bottle of whisky been on the table. He had not calculated on John
+being sober. He shuffled deliberately and offered the pack to be cut.
+John cut in the same careless manner, but this time he did it purposely.
+Lablache picked up the bottom half of the cut. There was a terrible
+silence in the room, and a deadly purpose was expressed in &quot;Poker&quot;
+John's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender began to deal. In an instant John was on his feet and
+lurched across the table. His hand fell upon the first card which
+Lablache had dealt to himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The ace of clubs,&quot; shouted the rancher, his eyes blazing and his body
+fairly shaking with fury. He turned the card over. It was the ace of
+clubs.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cheat!&quot; he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>He had seen the card at the bottom of the pack as the other had ceased
+to shuffle.</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant's thrilling pause. Then Lablache's hand flew to
+his pocket. He had heard the click of a cocking revolver.</p>
+
+<p>For the moment the rancher's old spirit rose superior to his senile
+debility.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God in heaven! And this is how you've robbed me, you&mdash;you bastard!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John's seared face was at that moment the face of a maniac. He
+literally hurled his fury at the money-lender, who was now standing
+confronting him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the last time, if&mdash;if I swing for it. Prairie law you need, and,
+Hell take you, you shall have it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He swung himself half round. Simultaneously two reports rang out. They
+seemed to meet in one deafening peal, which was exaggerated by the
+smallness of the room. Then all was silence.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache stood unmoved, his yellow eyeballs gleaming wickedly. For a
+second John Allandale swayed while his face assumed a ghastly hue. Then
+in deathly silence he slowly crumpled up, as it were. No sound passed
+his lips and he sank in a heap upon the floor. His still smoking pistol
+dropped beside him from his nerveless fingers.</p>
+
+<p>The rancher had intended to kill Lablache, but the subtle money-lender
+had been too quick. The lashless eyes watched the deathly fall of the
+old man. There was no expression in them but that of vengeful coldness.
+He was accustomed to the unwritten laws of the prairie. He knew that he
+had saved his life by a hair's-breadth. His right hand was still in his
+coat pocket. He had fired through the cloth of the coat.</p>
+
+<p>Some seconds passed. Still Lablache did not move. There was no remorse
+in his heart&mdash;only annoyance. He was thinking with the coolness of a
+callous nerve. He was swiftly calculating the effect of the catastrophe
+as regarded himself. It was the worst thing that could have happened to
+him. Shooting was held lightly on the prairie, he knew, but&mdash;Then he
+slowly drew his pistol from his pocket and looked thoughtfully at it.
+His caution warned him of something. He withdrew the empty cartridge
+case and cleaned out the barrel. Then he put a fresh cartridge in the
+chamber and returned the pistol to his pocket. He was very deliberate,
+and displayed no emotion. His asthmatical breathing, perhaps, might have
+been more pronounced than usual. Then he gathered up the cards from
+floor and table, and wiped out the score upon the wall. He put the cards
+in his pocket. After that he stirred the body of his old companion with
+his foot. There was no sound from the prostrate rancher. Then the
+money-lender gently lowered himself to his knees and placed his hand
+over his victim's heart. It was still. John Allandale was dead.</p>
+
+<p>It was now for the first time that Lablache gave any sign of emotion. It
+was not the emotion of sorrow&mdash;merely fear&mdash;susperstitious fear. As he
+realized that the other was dead his head suddenly turned. It was an
+involuntary movement. And his fishy eyes gazed fearfully behind him. It
+was his first realization of guilt. The brand of Cain must inevitably
+carry with it a sense of horror to him who falls beneath its ban. He was
+a murderer&mdash;and he knew it.</p>
+
+<p>Now his-movements became less deliberate. He felt that he must get away
+from that horrid sight. He rose swiftly, with a display of that agility
+which the unfortunate Horrocks had seen. He glanced about the room and
+took his bearings. He strode to the lamp and put it out. Then he groped
+his way to the window and took down his bandanna; stealthily, and with a
+certain horror, he felt his way in the darkness to the door. He opened
+it and passed out.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII" />CHAPTER XXVIII - SETTLING THE RECKONING</h2>
+
+
+<p>Jacky stood at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture. She had been standing
+there for some minutes. The night was quite dark; there was no moon. Her
+horse, Nigger, was standing hitched to one of the fence posts a few
+yards away from her and inside the pasture. The girl was waiting for
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill.</p>
+
+<p>Not a sound broke the stillness of the night as she stood listening. A
+wonderful calmness was over all. From her position Jacky had seen the
+light shining through the window of the implement shed. Now the shed was
+quite dark&mdash;the window had been covered. She knew that her uncle and
+Lablache were there. She was growing impatient.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and then she would turn her face from the contemplation of the
+blackness of the distant end of the field to the direction of the
+settlement, her ears straining to catch the sound of her dilatory
+lover's coming. The minutes passed all too swiftly. And her impatience
+grew and found vent in irritable movements and sighs of vexation.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly her ears caught the sound of distant cries coming from the
+settlement. She turned in the direction. A lurid gleam was in the sky.
+Then, as she watched, the glare grew brighter, and sparks shot up in a
+great wreathing cloud of smoke. The direction was unmistakable. She knew
+that Lablache's store had been fired.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good,&quot; she murmured, with a sigh of relief. &quot;I guess Bill'll come right
+along now. I wish he'd come. They've been in that shack ten minutes or
+more. Why don't he come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The glare of the fire fascinated her, and her eyes remained glued in the
+direction of it. The reflection in the sky was widespread and she knew
+that the great building must be gutted, for there was no means of
+putting the fire out. Then her thoughts turned to Lablache, and she
+smiled as she thought of the surprise awaiting him. The sky in the
+distance grew brighter. She could only see the lurid reflection; a
+rising ground intervened between her and the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly against the very heart of the glare the figure of a horseman
+coming towards her was silhouetted as he rode over the rising ground.
+One glance sufficed the girl. That tall, thin figure was
+unmistakable&mdash;her lover was hastening towards her. She turned to her
+horse and unhitched the reins from the fence post.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Bill came up and dismounted. He led Golden Eagle through the
+gate. The greeting was an almost silent one between these two. Doubtless
+their thoughts carried them beyond mere greetings. They stood for a
+second.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Shall we ride?&quot; said Jacky, inclining her head in the direction of the
+shed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, we will walk. How long have they been there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A quarter of an hour, I guess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come along, then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They walked down the pasture leading their two horses.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see no light,&quot; said Bill, looking straight ahead of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is covered&mdash;the window, I mean. What are you going to do, Bill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lots&mdash;but I shall be guided by circumstances. You must remain outside,
+Jacky; you can see to the horses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;P'r'aps.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man turned sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;P'r'aps?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, one never knows. I guess it's no use fixing things when&mdash;guided by
+circumstances.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They relapsed into silence and walked steadily on. Half the distance was
+covered when Jacky halted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will Golden Eagle stand 'knee-haltering,' Bill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll 'knee-halter' 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill stood irresolute.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It'll be better, I guess,&quot; the girl pursued. &quot;We'll be freer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right,&quot; replied Bill. &quot;But,&quot; after a pause, &quot;I'd rather you didn't
+come further, little woman&mdash;there may be shooting&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so. I like shootin'. What's that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl had secured her horse, Bill was in the act of securing his.
+Jacky raised her hand in an attitude of attention and turned her face to
+windward. Bill stood erect and listened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&mdash;it's the boys. Baptiste said they would come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a faint rustling of grass near by. Jacky's keen ears had
+detected the stealing sound at once. To others it might have passed for
+the effect of the night breeze.</p>
+
+<p>They listened for a few seconds longer, then Bill turned to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come&mdash;the horses are safe. The boys will not show themselves. I fancy
+they are here to watch only&mdash;me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They continued on towards the shed. They were both wrapt in silent
+thought. Neither was prepared for what was to come. They were still
+nearly a quarter of a mile from the building. Its outline was dimly
+discernible in the darkness. And, too, now the light from the oil lamp
+could be seen dimly shining through the red bandanna which was stretched
+over the window.</p>
+
+<p>Now the sound of &quot;Poker&quot; John's voice raised in anger reached them. They
+stood still with one accord. It was astonishing how the voice traveled
+all that distance. He must be shouting. A sudden fear gripped their
+hearts. Bill was the first to move. With a whispered &quot;Wait here,&quot; he ran
+forward. For an instant Jacky waited, then, on a sudden impulse, she
+followed her lover.</p>
+
+<p>The girl had just started. Suddenly the sharp report of firearms split
+the air. She came up with Bill, who had paused at the sound.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hustle, Bill. It's murder,&quot; the girl panted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; and he ran forward with set face and gleaming eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Murder&mdash;and who was the victim? Bill wondered, and his heart misgave
+him. There was no longer any sound of voices. The rancher had been
+silenced. He thought of the girl behind him. Then his whole mind
+suddenly centered itself upon Lablache. If he had killed the rancher no
+mercy should be shown to him.</p>
+
+<p>Bill was rapidly nearing the building, and it was wrapped in an ominous
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>For a second he again came to a stand. He wanted to make sure. He could
+hear Jacky's speeding footfalls from behind. And he could hear the
+stealthy movements of those others. These were the only sounds that
+reached him. He-went on again. He came to the building. The window was
+directly in front of him. He tried to look into the room but the
+handkerchief effectually hid the interior. Suddenly the light went out.
+He knew what this meant. Turning away from the window he crept towards
+the door. Jacky had come up. He motioned her into the shadow. Then he
+waited.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and a great figure came out. It was Lablache. Even in
+the darkness Bill recognized him. His heavy, asthmatical breathing must
+have betrayed the money-lender if there had been no other means of
+identification.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache stepped out on to the prairie utterly unconscious of the
+figures crouching in the darkness. He stepped heavily forward. Four
+steps&mdash;that was all. A silent spring&mdash;an iron grip round the
+money-lender's throat, from behind. A short, sharp struggle&mdash;a great
+gasping for breath. Then Lablache reeled backwards and fell to the
+ground with Bill hanging to his throat like some tiger. In the fall the
+money-lender's pistol went off. There was a sharp report, and the bullet
+tore up the ground. But no harm was done. Bill held on. Then came the
+swish of a skirt. Jacky was at her lover's side. She dragged the
+money-lender's pistol from his pocket. Then Bill let go his hold and
+stood panting over the prostrate man. The whole thing was done in
+silence. No word was spoken.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache sucked in a deep whistling breath. His eyes rolled and he
+struggled into a sitting posture. He was gazing into the muzzle of
+Bill's pistol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get up!&quot; The stern voice was unlike Bill's, but there was nothing of
+the twang of Retief about it.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender stared, but did not move&mdash;neither did he speak. Jacky
+had darted into the hut. She had gone to light the lamp and learn the
+truth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get up!&quot; The chilling command forced the money-lender to rise. He saw
+before him the tall, thin figure of his assailant.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Retief!&quot; he gasped, and then stood speechless.</p>
+
+<p>Now the re-lighted lamp glowed through the doorway. Bill pointed towards
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go inside!&quot; The relentless pistol was at Lablache's head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;no! Not inside.&quot; The words whistled on a gasping breath.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go inside!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Cowed and fearful, Lablache obeyed the mandate.</p>
+
+<p>Bill followed the money-lender into the miserable room. His keen eyes
+took in the scene in one swift glance. He saw Jacky kneeling beside the
+prostrate form of her uncle. She was not weeping. Her beautiful face was
+stonily calm. She was just looking down at that still form, that drawn
+gray face, the staring eyes and dropped jaw. Bill saw and understood.
+Lablache might expect no mercy.</p>
+
+<p>The murderer himself was now looking in the direction of&mdash;but not
+at&mdash;the body of his victim. He was gazing with eyes which expressed
+horrified amazement at the sight of the crouching figure of Jacky
+Allandale. He was trying to fathom the meaning of her association with
+Retief.</p>
+
+<p>Bill closed the door. Now he came forward towards the table, always
+keeping Lablache in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is he dead?&quot; Bill's voice was solemn.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky looked up. There was a look as of stone in her somber eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is dead&mdash;dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! For the moment we will leave the dead. Come, let us deal with the
+living. It is time for a final reckoning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a deadly chill in the tone of Bill's voice&mdash;a chill which was
+infinitely more dreadful to Lablache's ears than could any passionate
+outburst have been.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened gently. No one noticed it, so absorbed were they in the
+ghastly matter before them. Wider the door swung and several dusky faces
+appeared in the opening.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender stood motionless. His gaze ignored the dead. He watched
+the living. He wondered what &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's preamble portended. He shook
+himself like one rousing from some dreadful nightmare. He summoned his
+courage and tried to face the consequences of his act with an outward
+calm. Struggle as he might a deadly fear was ever present.</p>
+
+<p>It was not the actual fear of death&mdash;it was the moral dread of something
+intangible. He feared at that moment not that which was to come. It was
+the presence of the dusky-visaged raider and&mdash;the girl. He feared mostly
+the icy look on Jacky's face. However, his mind was quite clear. He was
+watching for a loophole of escape. And he lost no detail of the scene
+before him.</p>
+
+<p>A matter which puzzled him greatly was the familiar voice of the raider.
+Retief, as he knew him, spoke with a pronounced accent, but now he only
+heard the ordinary tones of an Englishman.</p>
+
+<p>Bill had purposely abandoned his exaggerated Western drawl. Now he
+removed the scarf from his neck and proceeded to wipe the yellow grease
+from his face and neck. Lablache, with dismay in his heart, saw the
+white skin which had been concealed beneath the paint. The truth
+flashed upon him instantly. And before Bill had had time to remove his
+wig his name had passed the money-lender's lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bunning-Ford?&quot; he gasped. And in that expression was a world of moral
+fear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Bunning-Ford, come to settle his last reckoning with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill eyed the murderer steadily and Lablache felt his last grip on his
+courage relax. A terrible fear crept upon him as his courage ebbed.
+Slowly Bill turned his eyes in the direction of the still kneeling
+Jacky. The girl's eyes met his, and, in response to some mute
+understanding which passed between them, she rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>Bill did not speak. He merely looked at his pistol. Jacky spoke as if
+answering some remark of his.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, this is my affair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned upon the money-lender. There was no wrath in her face,
+no anger in her tones; only that horrid, stony purpose which Lablache
+dreaded. He wished she would hurl invective at him. He felt that it
+would have been better so.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The death which you have dealt to that poor old man is too good for
+you&mdash;murderer,&quot; she said, her deep, somber eyes seeming to pass through
+and through the mountain of flesh she was addressing. &quot;I take small
+comfort in the thought that he had no time to suffer bodily pain. You
+will suffer&mdash;later.&quot; Bill gazed at her wonderingly. &quot;Liar!&mdash;cheat!&mdash;you
+pollute the earth. You thought to cozen that poor, harmless old man out
+of his property&mdash;out of me. You thought to ruin him as you have ruined
+others. Your efforts will avail you nothing. From the moment Bill
+discovered the use of your memorandum pad&quot;&mdash;Lablache started&mdash;&quot;your fate
+was sealed. We swore to confiscate your property. For every dollar you
+took from us you should pay ten. But now the matter is different. There
+is a justice on the prairie&mdash;a rough, honest, uncorruptible justice. And
+that justice demands your life. You shall scourge Foss River no longer.
+You have murdered. You shall die!&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was about to go further with her inexorable denunciation when the
+door of the shed was flung wide, and eight Breeds, headed by Gautier and
+Baptiste, came in. They came in almost noiselessly, their moccasined
+feet giving out scarcely any sound upon the floor of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill turned, startled at the sudden apparition. Jacky hesitated.
+Here was a contingency which none had reckoned upon. One glance at those
+dark, cruel faces warned all three that these prairie outcasts had been
+silent witnesses of everything that had taken place. It was a supreme
+moment, and the deadly pallor which had assumed a leadenish hue on
+Lablache's face told of one who appreciated the horror of that silent
+coming.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste stepped over to where Jacky stood. He looked at her, and then
+his gaze passed to the dead man upon the floor. His beady, black eyes
+turned fiercely upon the cowering money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ow!&quot; he grunted. And his tone was the fierce expression of an Indian
+roused to homicidal purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Then he turned back to Jacky, and the look on his face changed to one of
+sympathy and even love.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not you, missie&mdash;and the white man&mdash;no. The prairie is the land of the
+Breed and his forefathers&mdash;the Red Man. Guess the law of the prairie'll
+come best from such as he. You are one of us,&quot; he went on, surveying the
+girl's beautiful face in open admiration. &quot;You've allus been mostly one
+of us&mdash;but I take it y'are too white. No, guess you ain't goin' ter muck
+yer pretty hands wi' the filthy blood of yonder,&quot; pointing to Lablache.
+&quot;These things is fur the likes o' us. Jest leave this skunk to us. Death
+is the sentence, and death he's goin' ter git&mdash;an' it'll be somethin'
+ter remember by all who behold. An' the story shall go down to our
+children. This poor dead thing was our best frien'&mdash;an' he's
+dead&mdash;murdered. So, this is a matter for the Breed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then the half-breed turned away. Seeing the chalk upon the floor he
+stooped and picked it up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's have the formalities. It is but just&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill suddenly interrupted. He was angry at the interference of Baptiste.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold on!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste swung round. The white man got no further. The Breed broke in
+upon him with animal ferocity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who says hold on? Peace, white man, peace! This is for us. Dare to stop
+us, an'&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky sprang between her lover and the ferocious half-breed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, leave well alone,&quot; she said. And she held up a warning finger.</p>
+
+<p>She knew these men, of a race to which she, in part, belonged. As well
+baulk a tiger of its prey. She knew that if Bill interfered his life
+would pay the forfeit. The sanguinary lust of these human devils once
+aroused, they cared little how it be satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>Bill turned away with a shrug, and he was startled to see that he had
+been noiselessly surrounded by the rest of the half-breeds. Had Jacky's
+command needed support, it would have found it in this ominous movement.</p>
+
+<p>Fate had decreed that the final act in the Foss River drama should come
+from another source than the avenging hands of those who had sealed
+their compact in Bad Man's Hollow.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste turned away from &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, and, at a sign from him, Lablache
+was brought round to the other side of the table&mdash;to where the dead
+rancher was lying. Baptiste handed him the chalk and then pointed to the
+wall, on which had been written the score of old John's last gamble.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write!&quot; he said, turning back to his prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache gazed fearfully around. He essayed to speak, but his tongue
+clove to the roof of his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write&mdash;while I tell you.&quot; The Breed still pointed to the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache held out the chalk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I kill John Allandale,&quot; dictated Baptiste.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache wrote.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, sign. So.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache signed. Jacky and Bill stood looking on silent and wondering.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now,&quot; said Baptiste, with all the solemnity of a court official, &quot;the
+execution shall take place. Lead him out!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this instant Jacky laid her hand upon the half-breed's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What&mdash;what is it?&quot; she asked. And from her expression something of the
+stony calmness had gone, leaving in its place a look of wondering not
+untouched with horror.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Devil's Keg!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX" />CHAPTER XXIX - THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG</h2>
+
+
+<p>Down the sloping shore to the level of the great keg, the party of
+Breeds&mdash;and in their midst the doomed money-lender&mdash;made their way.
+Jacky and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, on their horses, brought up the rear.</p>
+
+<p>The silent <i>cort&egrave;ge</i> moved slowly on, out on to the oozing path across
+the mire. Lablache was now beyond human aid.</p>
+
+<p>The right and wrong of their determination troubled the Breeds not one
+whit. But it was different with the two white people. What thoughts Bill
+had upon the matter he kept to himself. He certainly felt that he ought
+to interfere, but he knew how worse than useless his interference would
+be. Besides, the man should die. The law of Judge Lynch was the only law
+for such as he. Let that law take its course. Bill would have preferred
+the stout tree and a raw-hide lariat. But&mdash;and he shrugged his
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky felt more deeply upon the subject. She saw the horror in all its
+truest lights, and yet she had flouted her lover's suggestion that she
+should not witness the end. Bad and all as Lablache was&mdash;cruel as was
+his nature, murderer though he be, surely no crime, however heinous,
+could deserve the fate to which he was going. She had
+remonstrated&mdash;urged Baptiste to forego his wanton cruelty, to deal out
+justice tempered with a mercy which should hurl the money-lender to
+oblivion without suffering&mdash;with scarce time to realize the happening.
+Her efforts were unavailing. As well try to turn an ape from its
+mischief&mdash;a man-eater from its mania for human blood. The inherent love
+of cruelty had been too long fostered in these Breeds of Foss River.
+Lablache had too long swayed their destinies with his ruthless hand of
+extortion. All the pent-up hatred, stored in the back cells of memory,
+was now let loose. For all these years in Foss River they had been
+forced to look to Lablache as the ruler of their destinies. Was he not
+the great&mdash;the wealthy man of the place? When he held up his finger they
+must work&mdash;and his wage was the wage of a dog. When money was scarce
+among them, would he not drive them starving from his great store? When
+their children and women were sick, would he not refuse them
+drugs&mdash;food&mdash;nourishment of any sort, unless the money was down? They
+had not even the privilege of men who owned land. There was no credit
+for the Breeds&mdash;outcasts. Baptiste and his fellows remembered all these
+things. Their time had come. They would pay Lablache&mdash;and their score of
+interest should be heavy.</p>
+
+<p>On their way from the shed to the muskeg Lablache had seen the
+reflection of the fire at his store in the sky. Gautier had taken
+devilish satisfaction in telling the wretched man of what had been
+done&mdash;mouthing the details in the manner of one who finds joy in
+cruelty. He remembered past injuries, and reveled in the money-lender's
+agony.</p>
+
+<p>After a toilsome journey the Breeds halted at the point where the path
+divided into three. Jacky and Bill sat on their horses and watched the
+scene. Then, slowly, something of Baptiste's intention was borne in upon
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky reached out and touched her lover's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, what are they going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She asked the question. But the answer was already with her. Her
+companion remained silent. She did not repeat her question.</p>
+
+<p>Then she heard Baptiste's raucous tones as he issued his commands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Loose his hands!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky watched Lablache's face in the dim starlight. It was ghastly. The
+whole figure of the man seemed to have shrunk. The wretched man stood
+free, and yet more surely a prisoner than any criminal in a condemned
+cell.</p>
+
+<p>The uncertain light of the stars showed only the dark expanse of the
+mire upon all sides. In the distance, ahead, the mountains were vaguely
+outlined against the sky; behind and around, nothing but that awful
+death-trap. Jacky had lived all her life beside the muskeg, but never,
+until that moment, had she realized the awful terror of its presence.</p>
+
+<p>Now Baptiste again commanded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Prepare for death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to the listening girl that a devilish tone of exultation rang
+in his words. She roused herself from her fascinated attention. She was
+about to urge her horse forward. But a thin, powerful hand reached out
+and gripped her by the arm. It was &quot;Lord&quot; Bill. His hoarse whisper sung
+in her ears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your own words&mdash;Leave well alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And she allowed her horse to stand.</p>
+
+<p>Now she leaned forward in her saddle and rested her elbows upon the horn
+in front of her. Again she heard Baptiste speak. He seemed to be in sole
+command.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll give yer a chance fur yer life&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again the fiendish laugh underlaid the words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's a chance of a dog&mdash;a yellow dog,&quot; he pursued. Jacky shuddered.
+&quot;But such a chance is too good fur yer likes. Look&mdash;look, those hills.
+See the three tall peaks&mdash;yes, those three, taller than the rest. One
+straight in front; one to the right, an' one away to the left. Guess
+this path divides right hyar&mdash;in three, an' each path heads for one of
+those peaks. Say, jest one trail crosses the keg&mdash;one. Savee? The others
+end sudden, and then&mdash;the keg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The full horror of the man's meaning now became plain to the girl. She
+heaved a great gasp, and turned to Bill. Her lover signed a warning. She
+turned again to the scene before her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, see hyar, you scum,&quot; Baptiste went on. &quot;This is yer chance. Choose
+yer path and foller it. Guess yer can't see it no more than yer ken see
+this one we're on, but you've got the lay of it. Guess you'll travel the
+path yer choose to&mdash;the end. If yer don't move&mdash;an' move mighty
+slippy&mdash;you'll be dumped headlong into the muck. Ef yer git on to the
+right path an' cross the keg safe, yer ken sling off wi' a whole skin.
+Guess you'll fin' it a ticklish job&mdash;mebbe you'll git through. But I've
+a notion yer won't. Now, take yer dog's chance, an' remember, its death
+if yer don't, anyway.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man ceased speaking. Jacky saw Lablache shake his great head. Then
+something made him look at the mountains beyond. There were the three
+dimly-outlined peaks. They were clear enough to guide him. Jacky,
+watching, saw the expression of his face change. It was as though a
+flicker of hope had risen within him. Then she saw him turn and eye
+Baptiste. He seemed to read in that cruel, dark face a vengeful purpose.
+He seemed to scent a trick. Presently he turned again to the hills.</p>
+
+<p>How plainly the watching girl read the varying emotions which beset him.
+He was trying to face this chance calmly, but the dark expanse of the
+surrounding mire wrung his heart with terror. He could not choose, and
+yet he knew he must do so or&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Choose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache again bent his eyes upon the hills. But his lashless lids would
+flicker, and his vision became impaired. He turned to the Breed with an
+imploring gesture. Baptiste made no movement. His relentless expression
+remained unchanged. The wretched man turned away to the rest of the
+Breeds.</p>
+
+<p>A pistol was leveled at his head and he turned back to Baptiste. The
+only comfort he obtained was a monosyllabic command.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Choose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God, man, I can't.&quot; Lablache gasped out the words which seemed
+literally to be wrung from him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Choose!&quot; The inexorable tone sent a shudder over the distraught man.
+Even in the starlight the expression of the villain's face was hideous
+to behold.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste's voice again rang out on the still night air.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Move him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A pistol was pushed behind his ear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do y' hear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mercy&mdash;mercy!&quot; cried the distraught man. But he made no move.</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant's pause. Then the loud report of the threatening
+pistol rang out. It had been fired through the lobe of his ear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The exclamation was forced from Jacky. The torture&mdash;the horror nearly
+drove her wild. She lifted her reins as though to ride to the villain's
+aid. Then something&mdash;some cruel recollection&mdash;stayed her. She remembered
+her uncle and her heart hardened.</p>
+
+<p>The merciless torture of the Breed was allowed to pass.</p>
+
+<p>To the wretched victim it seemed that his ear-drum must be split for the
+shot had left him almost stone deaf. The blood trickled from the wound.
+He almost leapt forward. Then he stood all of a tremble as he felt the
+ground shake beneath him. A cold sweat poured down his great face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Choose!&quot; Baptiste followed the terror-stricken man up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;no! Don't shoot! Yes, I'll go&mdash;only&mdash;don't shoot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The abject cowardice the great man now displayed was almost pitiable.
+Bill's lip curled in disdain. He had expected that this man would have
+shown a bold front.</p>
+
+<p>He had always believed Lablache to be, at least, a man of courage. But
+he did not allow for the circumstances&mdash;the surroundings. Lablache on
+the safe ground of the prairie would have faced disaster very
+differently. The thought of that sucking mire was too terrible. The oily
+maw of that death-trap was a thing to strike horror into the bravest
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which path?&quot; Baptiste spoke, waving his hand in the direction of the
+mountains.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache moved cautiously forward, testing the ground with his foot as
+he went. Then he paused again and eyed the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The right path,&quot; he said at last, in a guttural whisper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then start.&quot; The words rang out cuttingly upon the night air.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache fixed his eyes upon the distant peak of the mountain which was
+to be his guide. He advanced slowly. The Breeds followed, Jacky and Bill
+bringing up the rear. The ground seemed firm and the money-lender moved
+heavily forward. His breath came in gasps. He was panting, not with
+exertion, but with terror. He could not test the ground until his weight
+was upon it. An outstretched foot pressed on the grassy path told him
+nothing. He knew that the crust would hold until the weight of his body
+was upon it. With every successful step his terror increased. What would
+the next bring forth?</p>
+
+<p>His agony of mind was awful.</p>
+
+<p>He covered about ten yards in this way. The sweat poured from him. His
+clothes stuck to him. He paused for a second and took fresh bearings. He
+turned his head and looked into the muzzle of Baptiste's revolver. He
+shuddered and turned again to the mountains. He pressed forward. Still
+the ground was firm. But this gave him no hope. Suddenly a frightful
+horror swept over him. It was something fresh; he had not thought of it
+before. The fact was strange, but it was so. The path&mdash;had he taken the
+wrong one? He had made his selection at haphazard and he knew that there
+was no turning back. Baptiste had said so and he had seen his resolve
+written in his face. A conviction stole over him that he was on the
+wrong path. He knew he was. He must be. Of course it was only natural.
+The center path must be the main one. He stood still. He could have
+cried out in his mental agony. Again he turned&mdash;and saw the pistol.</p>
+
+<p>He put his foot out. The ground trembled at his touch. He drew back
+with a gurgling cry. He turned and tried another spot. It was firm until
+his weight rested upon it. Then it shook. He sought to return to the
+spot he had left. But now he could not be sure. His mind was uncertain.
+Suddenly he gave a jump. He felt the ground solid beneath him as he
+alighted. His face was streaming. He passed his hand across it in a
+dazed way. His terror increased a hundredfold. Now he endeavored to take
+his bearings afresh. He looked out at the three mountains. The right
+one&mdash;yes, that was it. The right one. He saw the peak, and made another
+step forward. The path held. Another step and his foot went through. He
+drew back with a cry. He tripped and fell heavily. The ground shook
+under him and he lay still, moaning.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste's voice roused him and urged him on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Git on, you skunk,&quot; he said. &quot;Go to yer death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache sat up and looked about. He felt dazed. He knew he must go on.
+Death&mdash;death which ever way he turned. God! did ever a man suffer so?
+The name of John Allandale came to his mind and he gazed wildly about,
+fancying some one had whispered it to him in answer to his thoughts. He
+stood up. He took another step forward with reckless haste. He
+remembered the pistol behind him. The ground seemed to shake under him.
+His distorted fancy was playing tricks with him. Another step. Yes, the
+ground was solid&mdash;no, it shook. The weight of his body came down on the
+spot. His foot went through. He hurled himself backwards again and
+clutched wildly at the ground. He shuddered and cried out. Again came
+Baptiste's voice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Git on, or&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The distraught man struggled to his feet. He was becoming delirious with
+terror. He stepped forward again. The ground seemed solid and he laughed
+a horrid, wild laugh. Another step and another. He paused, breathing
+hard. Then he started to mutter,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On&mdash;on. Yes, on again or they'll have me. The path&mdash;this is the right
+one. I'll cheat 'em yet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He strode out boldly. His foot sank in something soft He did not seem to
+notice it. Another step and his foot sank again in the reeking muck.
+Suddenly he seemed to realize. He threw himself back and obtained a
+foothold. He stood trembling. He turned and tried another direction.
+Again he sank. Again he drew back. His knees tottered and he feared to
+move. Suddenly a ring of metal pressed against his head from behind. In
+a state of panic he stepped forward on the shaking ground. It held. He
+paused, then stepped again, his foot coming down on a reedy tuft. It
+shook, but still held. He took another step. His foot sunk quickly, till
+the soft muck oozed round his ankle. He cried out in terror and turned
+to come back.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste stood with leveled pistol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On&mdash;on, you gopher. Turn again an' I wing yer. On, you bastard. You've
+chosen yer path, keep to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mercy&mdash;I'm sinking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Git on&mdash;not one step back.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache struggled to release his sinking limb. By a great effort he
+drew it out only to plunge it into another yielding spot. Again he
+struggled, and in his struggle his other foot slipped from its reedy
+hold. It, too, sank. With a terrible cry he plunged forward. He lurched
+heavily as he sought to drag his feet from the viscid muck. At every
+effort he sank deeper. At last he hurled himself full length upon the
+surface of the reeking mire. He cried aloud, but no one answered him.
+Under his body he felt the yielding crust cave. He clutched at the
+surface grass, but he only plucked the tufts from their roots. They gave
+him no hold.</p>
+
+<p>The silent figures on the path watched his death-struggle. It was
+ghastly&mdash;horrible. The expression of their faces was fiendish. They
+watched with positive joy. There was no pity in the hearts of the
+Breeds.</p>
+
+<p>They hearkened to the man's piteous cries with ears deafened to all
+entreaty. They simply watched&mdash;watched and reveled in the watching&mdash;for
+the terrible end which must come.</p>
+
+<p>Already the murderer's vast proportions were half buried in the slimy
+ooze, and, at every fresh effort to save himself, he sank deeper. But
+the death which the Breeds awaited was slow to come. Slow&mdash;slow. And so
+they would have it.</p>
+
+<p>Like some hungry monster the muskeg mouths its victims with oozing
+saliva, supping slowly, and seemingly revels in anticipation of the
+delicate morsel of human flesh. The watchers heard the gurgling mud,
+like to a great tongue licking, as it wrapped round the doomed man's
+body, sucking him down, down. The clutch of the keg seemed like
+something alive; something so all-powerful&mdash;like the twining feelers of
+the giant cuttle-fish. Slowly they saw the doomed man's legs disappear,
+and already the slimy muck was above his middle.</p>
+
+<p>The minutes dragged along&mdash;the black slime rose&mdash;it was at Lablache's
+breast. His arms were outspread, and, for the moment, they offered
+resistance to the sucking strength of the mud. But the resistance was
+only momentary. Down, down he was drawn into that insatiable maw. The
+dying man's arms canted upwards as his shoulders were dragged under.</p>
+
+<p>He cried&mdash;he shrieked&mdash;he raved. Down, down he went&mdash;the mud touched his
+chin. His head was thrown back in one last wild scream. The watchers saw
+the staring eyes&mdash;the wide-stretched, lashless lids.</p>
+
+<p>His cries died down into gurgles as the mud oozed over into his gaping
+mouth. Down he went to his dreadful death, until his nostrils filled and
+only his awful eyes remained above the muck. The watchers did not move.
+Slowly&mdash;slowly and silently now&mdash;the last of him disappeared. Once his
+head was below the surface his limpened arms followed swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>The Breeds reluctantly turned back from the horrid spectacle. The
+fearful torture was done. For a few moments no words were spoken. Then,
+at last, it was Baptiste who broke the silence. He looked round on the
+passion-distorted faces about him. Then his beady eyes rested on the
+horrified faces of Jacky and her lover. He eyed them, and presently his
+gaze dropped, and he turned back to his countrymen. He merely said two
+words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Scatter, boys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tragedy was over and his words brought down the curtain. In silence
+the half-breeds turned and slunk away. They passed back over their
+tracks. Each knew that the sooner he reached the camp again, the sooner
+would safety be assured. As the last man departed Baptiste stepped up to
+Jacky and Bill, who had not moved from their positions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess there's no cause to complain o' yer friends,&quot; he said, addressing
+Jacky, and leering up into her white, set face.</p>
+
+<p>The girl shivered and turned away with a look of utter loathing on her
+face. She appealed to her lover.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill&mdash;Bill, send him away. It's&mdash;it's too horrible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill fixed his gray eyes on the Breed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Scatter&mdash;we've had enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh? Guess yer per-tickler.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a truculent tone in Baptiste's voice.</p>
+
+<p>Bill's revolver was out like lightning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Scatter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And in that word Baptiste realized his dismissal.</p>
+
+<p>His face looked very ugly, but he moved off under the covering muzzle of
+the white man's pistol.</p>
+
+<p>Bill watched him until he was out of sight. Then he turned to Jacky.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well? Which way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky did not answer for a moment. She gazed at the mountains. She
+shivered. It might have been the chill morning air&mdash;it might have been
+emotion. Then she looked back in the direction of Foss River. Dawn was
+already streaking the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>She sighed like a weary child, and looked helplessly about. Her lover
+had never seen her vigorous nature so badly affected. But he realized
+the terrors she had been through.</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yonder.&quot; She pointed to the distant hills. &quot;Foss River is no longer
+possible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The day that sees Lablache&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill gazed lingeringly in the direction of the settlement. Jacky
+followed his gaze. Then she touched Nigger's flank with her spur. Golden
+Eagle cocked his ears, his head was turned towards Bad Man's Hollow. He
+needed no urging. He felt that he was going home.</p>
+
+<p>Together they rode away across the keg.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Dr. Abbot had been up all night, as had most of Foss River. Everybody
+had been present at the fire. It was daylight when it was discovered
+that John Allandale and Jacky were missing. Lablache had been missed,
+but this had not so much interested people. They thought of Retief and
+waited for daylight.</p>
+
+<p>Silas brought the news of &quot;Poker&quot; John's absence&mdash;also his niece's.
+Immediately was a &quot;hue and cry&quot; taken up. Foss River bustled in search.</p>
+
+<p>It was noon before the rancher was found. Doctor Abbot and Silas had set
+out in search together. The fifty-acre pasture was Silas's suggestion.
+Dr. Abbot did not remember the implement shed.</p>
+
+<p>They found the old man's body. They found Lablache's confession. Silas
+could not read. He took no stock in the writing and thought only of the
+dead man. The doctor had read, but he said nothing. He dispatched Silas
+for help.</p>
+
+<p>When the foreman had gone Dr. Abbot picked up the black wig which Bill
+had used. He stood looking at it for a while, then he put it carefully
+into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! I think I understand something now,&quot; he said, slowly fingering the
+wig. &quot;Um&mdash;yes. I'll burn it when I get home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Silas returned with help. John Allandale was buried quietly in the
+little piece of ground set aside for such purposes. The truth of the
+disappearance of Lablache, Jacky and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was never known outside
+of the doctor's house.</p>
+
+<p>How much or how little Dr. Abbot knew would be hard to tell. Possibly he
+guessed a great deal. Anyway, whatever he knew was doubtless shared with
+&quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret. For when the doctor had a secret it did not remain his
+long. &quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret had a way with her. However, she was the very
+essence of discretion.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River settled down after its nine days' wonder. It was astonishing
+how quickly the affair was forgotten. But then, Foss River was not yet
+civilized. Its people had not yet learned to worry too much over their
+neighbors' affairs.</p>
+
+
+<p>THE END</p>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14482 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #14482 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14482)
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+Project Gutenberg's The Story of the Foss River Ranch, by Ridgwell Cullum
+
+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: The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+
+Author: Ridgwell Cullum
+
+Release Date: December 27, 2004 [EBook #14482]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE FOSS RIVER RANCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe and the PG Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+
+A Tale of the Northwest
+
+By RIDGWELL CULLUM
+
+Author of
+
+"The Law Breakers," "The Way of the Strong,"
+"The Watchers of the Plains." Etc.
+
+A.L. BURT COMPANY Publishers  New York
+
+Published by Arrangement with THE PAGE COMPANY
+
+Published August, 1903
+
+
+
+
+TO MY WIFE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAP.                                 PAGE
+
+I THE POLO CLUB BALL      1
+
+II THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES      12
+
+III A BIG GAME OF POKER      24
+
+IV AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH      32
+
+V THE "STRAY" BEYOND THE MUSKEG      45
+
+VI "WAYS THAT ARE DARK"      56
+
+VII ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG      64
+
+VIII TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW      76
+
+IX LABLACHE'S "COUP"      88
+
+X "AUNT" MARGARET REFLECTS      96
+
+XI THE CAMPAIGN OPENS      110
+
+XII LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT      120
+
+XIII THE FIRST CHECK      128
+
+XIV THE HUE AND CRY      138
+
+XV AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS      150
+
+XVI GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION      163
+
+XVII THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY      176
+
+XVIII THE PUSKY      188
+
+XIX LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR      200
+
+XX A NIGHT OF TERROR      210
+
+XXI HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG      219
+
+  XXII THE DAY AFTER      230
+
+ XXIII THE PAW OF THE CAT      243
+
+  XXIV "POKER" JOHN ACCEPTS      253
+
+   XXV UNCLE AND NIECE      261
+
+  XXVI IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX      270
+
+ XXVII THE LAST GAMBLE      279
+
+XXVIII SETTLING THE RECKONING      287
+
+  XXIX THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG      297
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE POLO CLUB BALL
+
+
+It was a brilliant gathering--brilliant in every sense of the word. The
+hall was a great effort of the decorator's art; the people were
+faultlessly dressed; the faces were strong, handsome--fair or dark
+complexioned as the case might be; those present represented the wealth
+and fashion of the Western Canadian ranching world. Intellectually, too,
+there was no more fault to find here than is usual in a ballroom in the
+West End of London.
+
+It was the annual ball of the Polo Club, and that was a social function
+of the first water--in the eyes of the Calford world.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Abbot, it is a matter which is quite out of my province,"
+said John Allandale, in answer to a remark from his companion. He was
+leaning over the cushioned back of the Chesterfield upon which an old
+lady was seated, and gazing smilingly over at a group of young people
+standing at the opposite end of the room. "Jacky is one of those young
+ladies whose strength of character carries her beyond the control of
+mere man. Yes, I know what you would say," as Mrs. Abbot glanced up into
+his face with a look of mildly-expressed wonder; "it is true I am her
+uncle and guardian, but, nevertheless, I should no more dream of
+interfering with her--what shall we say?--love affairs, than suggest
+her incapacity to 'boss' a 'round up' worked by a crowd of Mexican
+greasers."
+
+"Then all I can say is that your niece is a very unfortunate girl,"
+replied the old lady, acidly. "How old is she?"
+
+"Twenty-two."
+
+John Allandale, or "Poker" John as he was more familiarly called by all
+who knew him, was still looking over at the group, but an expression had
+suddenly crept into his eyes which might, in a less robust-looking man,
+have been taken for disquiet--even fear. His companion's words had
+brought home to him a partial realization of a responsibility which was
+his.
+
+"Twenty-two," she repeated, "and not a relative living except a
+good-hearted but thoroughly irresponsible uncle. That child is to be
+pitied, John."
+
+The old man sighed. He took no umbrage at his companion's
+brusquely-expressed estimation of himself. He was still watching the
+group at the other end of the room. His face was clouded, and a keen
+observer might have detected a curious twitching of his bronzed right
+cheek, just beneath the eye. His eyes followed the movement of a
+beautiful girl surrounded by a cluster of men, immaculately dressed,
+bronzed--and, for the most part, wholesome-looking. She was dark, almost
+Eastern in her type of features. Her hair was black with the blackness
+of the raven's wing, and coiled in an ample knot low upon her neck. Her
+features, although Eastern, had scarcely the regularity one expects in
+such a type, whilst her eyes quashed without mercy any idea of such
+extraction for her nationality. They were gray, deeply ringed at the
+pupil with black. They were keen eyes--fathomless in their suggestion of
+strength--eyes which might easily mask a world of good or evil.
+
+The music began, and the girl passed from amidst her group of admirers
+upon the arm of a tall, fair man, and was soon lost in the midst of the
+throng of dancers.
+
+"Who is that she is dancing with now?" asked Mrs. Abbot, presently. "I
+didn't see her go off; I was watching Mr. Lablache standing alone and
+disconsolate over there against the door. He looks as if some one had
+done him some terrible injury. See how he is glaring at the dancers."
+
+"Jacky is dancing with 'Lord' Bill. Yes, you are right, Lablache does
+not look very amiable. I think this would be a good opportunity to
+suggest a little gamble in the smoking-room."
+
+"Nothing of the sort," snapped Mrs. Abbot, with the assurance of an old
+friend. "I haven't half finished talking to you yet. It is a most
+extraordinary thing that all you people of the prairie love to call each
+other by nicknames. Why should the Hon. William Bunning-Ford be dubbed
+'Lord' Bill, and why should that sweet niece of yours, who is the
+possessor of such a charming name as Joaquina, be hailed by every man
+within one hundred miles of Calford as 'Jacky'? I think it is both
+absurd and--vulgar."
+
+"Possibly you are right, my dear lady. But you can never alter the ways
+of the prairie. You might just as well try to stem the stream of our
+Foss River in early spring as try to make the prairie man call people by
+their legitimate names. For instance, do you ever hear me spoken of by
+any other name than 'Poker' John?"
+
+Mrs. Abbot looked up sharply. A malicious twinkle was in her eyes.
+
+"There is reason in your sobriquet, John. A man who spends his substance
+and time in playing that fascinating but degrading game called 'Draw
+Poker' deserves no better title."
+
+John Allandale made a "clucking" sound with his tongue. It was his way
+of expressing irritation. Then he stood erect, and glanced round the
+room in search of some one. He was a tall, well-built man and carried
+his fifty odd years fairly well, in spite of his gray hair and the bald
+patch at the crown of his head. Thirty years of a rancher's life had in
+no way lessened the easy carriage and distinguished bearing acquired
+during his upbringing. John Allandale's face and figure were redolent of
+the free life of the prairie. And although, possibly, his fifty-five
+years might have lain more easily upon him he was a man of commanding
+appearance and one not to be passed unnoticed.
+
+Mrs. Abbot was the wife of the doctor of the Foss River Settlement and
+had known John Allandale from the first day he had taken up his abode on
+the land which afterwards became known as the Foss River Ranch until
+now, when he was acknowledged to be a power in the stock-raising world.
+She was a woman of sound, practical, common sense; he was a man of
+action rather than a thinker; she was a woman whose moral guide was an
+invincible sense of duty; he was a man whose sense of responsibility and
+duty was entirely governed by an unreliable inclination. Moreover, he
+was obstinate without being possessed of great strength of will. They
+were characters utterly opposed to one another, and yet they were the
+greatest of friends.
+
+The music had ceased again and once more the walls were lined with
+heated dancers, breathing hard and fanning themselves. Suddenly John
+Allandale saw a face he was looking for. Murmuring an excuse to Mrs.
+Abbot, he strode across the room, just as his niece, leaning upon the
+arm of the Hon. Bunning-Ford, approached where he had been standing.
+
+Mrs. Abbot glanced admiringly up into Jacky's face.
+
+"A successful evening, Joaquina?" she interrogated kindly.
+
+"Lovely, Aunt Margaret, thanks." She always called the doctor's wife
+"Aunt."
+
+Mrs. Abbot nodded.
+
+"I believe you have danced every dance. You must be tired, child. Come
+and sit down."
+
+Jacky was intensely fond of this old lady and looked upon her almost as
+a mother. Her affection was reciprocated. The girl seated herself and
+"Lord" Bill stood over her, fan in hand.
+
+"Say, auntie," exclaimed Jacky, "I've made up my mind to dance every
+dance on the program. And I guess I sha'n't Waste time on feeding."
+
+The girl's beautiful face was aglow with excitement. Mrs. Abbot's face
+indicated horrified amazement.
+
+"My dear child, don't--don't talk like that. It is really dreadful."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled.
+
+"I'm so sorry, auntie, I forgot," the girl replied, with an irresistible
+smile. "I never can get away from the prairie. Do you know, this evening
+old Lablache made me mad, and my hand went round to my hip to get a grip
+on my six-shooter, and I was quite disappointed to feel nothing but
+smooth silk to my touch. I'm not fit for town life, I guess. I'm a
+prairie girl; you can bet your life on it, and nothing will civilize me.
+Billy, do stop wagging that fan."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled a slow, twinkling smile and desisted. He was a tall,
+slight man, with a faint stoop at the shoulders. He looked worthy of his
+title.
+
+"It is no use trying to treat Jacky to a becoming appreciation of social
+requirements," he said, addressing himself with a sort of weary
+deliberation to Mrs. Abbot. "I suggested an ice just now. She said she
+got plenty on the ranch at this time of year," and he shrugged his
+shoulders and laughed pleasantly.
+
+"Well, of course. What does one want ices for?" asked the girl,
+disdainfully. "I came here to dance. But, auntie, dear, where has uncle
+gone? He dashed off as if he were afraid of us when we came up."
+
+"I think he has set his mind on a game of poker, dear, and--"
+
+"And that means he has gone in search of that detestable man, Lablache,"
+Jacky put in sharply.
+
+Her beautiful face flushed with anger as she spoke. But withal there was
+a look of anxiety in her eyes.
+
+"If he must play cards I wish he would play with some one else," she
+pursued.
+
+"Lord" Bill glanced round the room. He saw that Lablache had
+disappeared.
+
+"Well, you see, Lablache has taken a lot of money out of all of us.
+Naturally we wish to get it back," he said quietly, as if in defense of
+her uncle's doings.
+
+"Yes, I know. And--do you?" The girl's tone was cutting.
+
+"Lord" Bill shrugged. Then,--
+
+"As yet I have not had that pleasure."
+
+"And if I know anything of Lablache you never will," put in Mrs. Abbot,
+curtly. "He is not given to parting easily. The qualification most
+necessary amongst gentlemen in the days of our grandfathers was keen
+gambling. You and John, had you lived in those days, might have aspired
+to thrones."
+
+"Yes--or taken to the road. You remember, even then, it was necessary to
+be a 'gentleman' of the road."
+
+"Lord" Bill laughed in his lazy fashion. His keen gray eyes were half
+veiled with eyelids which, seemed too weary to lift themselves. He was a
+handsome man, but his general air of weariness belied the somewhat eagle
+cast of countenance which was his. Mrs. Abbot, watching him, thought
+that the deplorable lassitude which he always exhibited masked a very
+different nature. Jacky possibly had her own estimation of the man.
+Whatever it was, her friendship for him was not to be doubted, and, on
+his part, he never attempted to disguise his admiration of her.
+
+A woman is often a much keener observer of men than she is given credit
+for. A man is frequently disposed to judge another man by his mental
+talents and his peculiarities of temper--or blatant self-advertisement.
+A woman's first thought is for that vague, but comprehensive trait
+"manliness. She drives straight home for the peg upon which to hang her
+judgment. That is why in feminine regard the bookworm goes to the wall
+to make room for the athlete. Possibly Jacky and Mrs. Abbot had probed
+beneath "Lord" Bill's superficial weariness and discovered there a
+nature worthy of their regard. They were both, in their several ways,
+fond of this scion of a noble house.
+
+"It is all very well for you good people to sit there and lecture--or,
+at least, say 'things,'" "Lord" Bill went on. "A man must have
+excitement. Life becomes a burden to the man who lives the humdrum
+existence of ranch life. For the first few years it is all very well. He
+can find a certain excitement in learning the business. The 'round-ups'
+and branding and re-branding of cattle, these things are
+fascinating--for a time. Breaking the wild and woolly broncho is
+thrilling and he needs no other tonic; but when one has gone through all
+this and he finds that no Broncho--or, for that matter, any other
+horse--ever foaled cannot be ridden, it loses its charm and becomes
+boring. On the prairie there are only two things left for him to
+do--drink or gamble. The first is impossible. It is low, degrading.
+Besides it only appeals to certain senses, and does not give one that
+'hair-curling' thrill which makes life tolerable. Consequently the wily
+pasteboard is brought forth--and we live again."
+
+"Stuff," remarked Mrs. Abbot, uncompromisingly.
+
+"Bill, you make me laugh," exclaimed Jacky, smiling up into his face.
+"Your arguments are so characteristic of you. I believe it is nothing
+but sheer indolence that makes you sit down night after night and hand
+over your dollars to that--that Lablache. How much have you lost to him
+this week?"
+
+"Lord" Bill glanced quizzically down at the girl.
+
+"I have purchased seven evenings' excitement at a fairly reasonable
+price."
+
+"Which means?"
+
+The girl leant forward and in her eyes was a look of anxiety. She meant
+to have the truth.
+
+"I have enjoyed myself."
+
+"But the price?"
+
+"Ah--here comes your partner for the next dance," "Lord" Bill went on,
+still smiling. "The band has struck up."
+
+At that moment a broad-shouldered man, with a complexion speaking loudly
+of the prairie, came up to claim the girl.
+
+"Hallo, Pickles," said Bill, quietly turning upon the newcomer and
+ignoring Jacky's question. "Thought you said you weren't coming in
+to-night?"
+
+"Neither was I," the man addressed as "Pickles" retorted, "but Miss
+Jacky promised me two dances," he went on, in strong Irish brogue; "that
+settled it. How d'ye do, Mrs. Abbot? Come along, Miss Jacky, we're
+losing half our dance."
+
+The girl took the proffered arm and was about to move off. She turned
+and spoke to "Lord" Bill over her shoulder.
+
+"How much?"
+
+Bill shrugged his shoulders in a deprecating fashion. The same gentle
+smile hovered round his sleepy eyes.
+
+"Three thousand dollars."
+
+Jacky glided off into the already dancing throng.
+
+For a moment the Hon. Bunning-Ford and Mrs. Abbot watched the girl as
+she glided in and out amongst the dancers, then, with a sigh, the old
+lady turned to her companion. Her kindly wrinkled old face wore a sad
+expression and a half tender look was in her eyes as they rested upon
+the man's face. When she spoke, however, her tone was purely
+conversational.
+
+"Are you not going to dance?"
+
+"No," abstractedly. "I think I've had enough."
+
+"Then come and sit by me and help to cheer an old woman up."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled as he seated himself upon the lounge.
+
+"I don't think there is much necessity for my cheering influence, Aunt
+Margaret. Amongst your many other charming qualities cheerfulness is not
+the least. Doesn't Jacky look lovely to-night?"
+
+"To-night?--always."
+
+"Yes, of course--but Jacky always seems to surpass herself under
+excitement. One would scarcely expect it, knowing her as we do. But she
+is as wildly delighted with dancing as any miss fresh from school."
+
+"And why not? It is little pleasure that comes into her life. An
+orphan--barely twenty-two--with the entire responsibility of her uncle's
+ranch upon her shoulders. Living in a very hornet's nest of blacklegs
+and--and--"
+
+"Gamblers," put in the man, quietly.
+
+"Yes," Aunt Margaret went on defiantly, "gamblers. With the certain
+knowledge that the home she struggles for, through no fault of her own,
+is passing into the hands of a man she hates and despises--"
+
+"And who by the way is in love with her." "Lord" Bill's mouth was
+curiously pursed.
+
+"What pleasure can she have?" exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, vehemently.
+"Sometimes, much as I am attached to John, I feel as if I should like
+to--to bang him!"
+
+"Poor old John!" Bill's bantering tone nettled the old lady, but she
+said no more. Her anger against those she loved could not last long.
+
+"'Poker' John loves his niece," the man went on, as his companion
+remained silent. "There is nothing in the world he would not do for her,
+if it lay within his power."
+
+"Then let him leave poker alone. His gambling is breaking her heart."
+
+The angry light was again in the old lady's eyes. Her companion did not
+answer for a moment. His lips had assumed that curious pursing. When he
+spoke it was with, great decision.
+
+"Impossible, my dear lady--utterly impossible. Can the Foss River help
+freezing in winter? Can Jacky help talking prairie slang? Can Lablache
+help grubbing for money? Can you help caring for all of our worthless
+selves who belong to the Foss River Settlement? Nothing can alter these
+things. John would play poker on the lid of his own coffin, while the
+undertakers were winding his shroud about him--if they'd lend him a pack
+of cards."
+
+"I believe you encourage him in it," said the old lady, mollified, but
+still sticking to her guns. "There is little to choose between you."
+
+The man shrugged his indolent shoulders. This dear old lady's loyalty to
+Jacky, and, for that matter, to all her friends, pleased while it amused
+him.
+
+"Maybe." Then abruptly, "Let's talk of something else."
+
+At that moment an elderly man was seen edging his way through the
+dancers. He came directly over to Mrs. Abbot.
+
+"It's getting late, Margaret," he said, pausing before her. "I am told
+it is rather gusty outside. The weather prophets think we may have a
+blizzard on us before morning."
+
+"I shouldn't be at all surprised," put in the Hon. Bunning-Ford. "The
+sun-dogs have been showing for the last two days. I'll see what Jacky
+says, and then hunt out old John."
+
+"Yes, for goodness' sake don't let us get caught in a blizzard,"
+exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, fearfully. "If there is one thing I'm afraid of it
+is one of those terrible storms. We have thirty-five miles to go."
+
+The new-comer, Dr. Abbot, smiled at his wife's terrified look, but, as
+he turned to urge Bill to hurry, there was a slightly anxious look on
+his face.
+
+"Hurry up, old man. I'll go and see about our sleigh." Then in an
+undertone, "You can exaggerate a little to persuade them, for the storm
+_is_ coming on and we must get away at once."
+
+A moment or two later "Lord" Bill and Jacky were making their way to the
+smoking-room. On the stairs they met "Poker" John. He was returning to
+the ballroom.
+
+"We were just coming to look for you, uncle," exclaimed Jacky. "They
+tell us it is blowing outside."
+
+"Just what I was coming to tell you, my dear. We must be going. Where
+are the doctor and Aunt Margaret?"
+
+"Getting ready," said Bill, quietly. "Have a good game?"
+
+The old man smiled. His bronzed face indicated extreme satisfaction.
+
+"Not half bad, boy--not half bad. Relieved Lablache of five hundred
+dollars in the last jackpot. Held four deuces. He opened with full on
+aces."
+
+"Poker" John seemed to have forgotten the past heavy losses, and spoke
+gleefully of the paltry five hundred he had just scooped in.
+
+The girl looked relieved, and even the undemonstrative "Lord" Bill
+allowed a scarcely audible sigh to escape him. Jacky returned at once to
+the exigencies of the moment.
+
+"Then, uncle, dear, let us hurry up. I guess none of us want to be
+caught in a blizzard. Say, Bill, take me to the cloak-room, right
+away."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES
+
+
+On the whole, Canada can boast of one of the most perfect health-giving
+climates in the world, despite the two extremes of heat and cold of
+which it is composed. But even so, the Canadian climate is cursed by an
+evil which every now and again breaks loose from the bonds which fetter
+it, and rages from east to west, carrying death and destruction in its
+wake. I speak of the terrible--the raging Blizzard!
+
+To appreciate the panic-like haste with which the Foss River Settlement
+party left the ballroom, one must have lived a winter in the west of
+Canada. The reader who sits snugly by his or her fireside, and who has
+never experienced a Canadian winter, can have no conception of one of
+those dread storms, the very name of which had drawn words of terror
+from one who had lived the greater part of her life in the eastern
+shadow of the Rockies. Hers was no timid, womanly fear for ordinary
+inclemency of weather, but a deep-rooted dread of a life-and-death
+struggle in a merciless storm, than which, in no part of the world, can
+there be found a more fearful. Whence it comes--and why, surely no one
+may say. A meteorological expert may endeavor to account for it, but his
+argument is unconvincing and gains no credence from the dweller on the
+prairies. And why? Because the storm does not come from above--neither
+does it come from a specified direction. And only in the winter does
+such a wind blow. The wind buffets from every direction at once. No snow
+falls from above and yet a blinding gray wall of snow, swept up from the
+white-clothed ground, encompasses the dazed traveller. His arm
+outstretched in daylight and he cannot see the tips of his heavy fur
+mitts. Bitter cold, a hundred times intensified by the merciless force
+of the wind, and he is lost and freezing--slowly freezing to death.
+
+As the sleigh dashed through the outskirts of Calford, on its way to the
+south, there was not much doubt in the minds of any of its occupants as
+to the prospects of the storm. The gusty, patchy wind, the sudden sweeps
+of hissing, cutting snow, as it slithered up in a gray dust in the
+moonlight, and lashed, with stinging force, into their faces, was a sure
+herald of the coming "blizzard."
+
+Bunning-Ford and Jacky occupied the front seat of the sleigh. The former
+was driving the spanking team of blacks of which old "Poker" John was
+justly proud. The sleigh was open, as in Canada all such sleighs are.
+Mrs. Abbot and the doctor sat in a seat with their backs to Jacky and
+her companion, and old John Allandale faced the wind in the back seat,
+alone. Thirty-five miles the horses had to cover before the storm
+thoroughly established itself, and "Lord" Bill was not a slow driver.
+
+The figures of the travellers were hardly distinguishable so enwrapped
+were they in beaver caps, buffalo coats and robes. Jacky, as she sat
+silently beside her companion, might have been taken for an inanimate
+bundle of furs, so lost was she within the ample folds of her buffalo.
+But for the occasional turn of her head, as she measured with her eyes
+the rising of the storm, she gave no sign of life.
+
+"Lord" Bill seemed indifferent. His eyes were fixed upon the road ahead
+and his hands, encased in fur mitts, were on the "lines" with a
+tenacious grip. The horses needed no urging. They were high-mettled and
+cold. The gushing quiver of their nostrils, as they drank in the crisp,
+night air, had a comforting sound for the occupants of the sleigh.
+Weather permitting, those beautiful "blacks" would do the distance in
+under three hours.
+
+The sleigh bells jangled musically in response to the high steps of the
+horses as they sped over the hard, snow-covered trail. They were
+climbing the long slope which was to take them out of the valley
+wherein was Calford situate. Presently Jack's face appeared from amidst
+the folds of the muffler which kept her storm collar fast round her neck
+and ears.
+
+"It's gaining on us, Billy."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+He understood her remark. He knew she referred to the storm. His lips
+were curiously pursed. A knack he had when stirred out of himself.
+
+"We shan't do it."
+
+The girl spoke with conviction.
+
+"No."
+
+"Guess we'd better hit the trail for Norton's. Soldier Joe'll be glad to
+welcome us."
+
+"Lord" Bill did not answer. He merely chirruped at the horses. The
+willing beasts increased their pace and the sleigh sped along with that
+intoxicating smoothness only to be felt when travelling with double
+"bobs" on a perfect trail.
+
+The gray wind of the approaching blizzard was becoming fiercer. The moon
+was already enveloped in a dense haze. The snow was driving like fine
+sand in the faces of the travellers.
+
+"I think we'll give it an hour, Bill. After that I guess it'll be too
+thick," pursued the girl. "What d'you think, can we make Norton's in
+that time--it's a good sixteen miles?"
+
+"I'll put 'em at it," was her companion's curt response.
+
+Neither spoke for a minute. Then "Lord" Bill bent his head suddenly
+forward. The night was getting blacker and it was with difficulty that
+he could keep his eyes from blinking under the lash of the whipping
+snow.
+
+"What is it?" asked Jacky, ever on the alert with the instinct of the
+prairie.
+
+"Some one just ahead of us. The track is badly broken in places. Sit
+tight, I'm going to touch 'em up."
+
+He flicked the whip over the horses' backs, and, a moment later, the
+sleigh was flying along at a dangerous pace. The horses had broken into
+a gallop.
+
+"Lord" Bill seemed to liven up under the influence of speed. The wind
+was howling now, and conversation was impossible, except in short, jerky
+sentences. They were on the high level of the prairie and were getting
+the full benefit of the open sweep of country.
+
+"Cold?" Bill almost shouted.
+
+"No," came the quiet response.
+
+"Straight, down-hill trail. I'm going to let 'em have their heads."
+
+Both of these people knew every inch of the road they were travelling.
+There was no fear in their hearts.
+
+"Put 'em along, then."
+
+The horses raced along. The deadly gray wind had obscured all light. The
+lights of the sleigh alone showed the tracks. It was a wild night and
+every moment it seemed to become worse. Suddenly the man spoke again.
+
+"I wish we hadn't got the others with us, Jacky."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I could put 'em along faster, as it is--" His sentence remained
+unfinished, the sleigh bumped and lifted on to one runner. It was within
+an ace of overturning. There was no need to finish his sentence.
+
+"Yes, I understand, Bill. Don't take too many chances. Ease 'em
+up--some. They're not as young as we are--not the horses. The others."
+
+"Lord" Bill laughed. Jacky was so cool. The word fear was not in her
+vocabulary. This sort of a journey was nothing new to her. She had
+experienced it all before. Possibly, however, her total lack of fear was
+due to her knowledge of the man who, to use her own way of expressing
+things, "was at the business end of the lines." "Lord" Bill was at once
+the finest and the most fearless teamster for miles around. Under the
+cloak of indolent indifference he concealed a spirit of fearlessness and
+even recklessness which few accredited to him.
+
+For some time the two remained silent. The minutes sped rapidly and half
+an hour passed. All about was pitch black now. The wind was tearing and
+shrieking from every direction at once. The sleigh seemed to be the
+center of its attack. The blinding clouds of snow, as they swept up from
+the ground, were becoming denser and denser and offered a fierce
+resistance to the racing horses. Another few minutes and the two people
+on the front seat knew that progress would be impossible. As it was,
+"Lord" Bill was driving more by instinct than by what he could see. The
+trail was obscured, as were all landmarks. He could no longer see the
+horses' heads.
+
+"We've passed the school-house," said Jacky, at last.
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+A strange knowledge or instinct is that of the prairie man or woman.
+Neither had seen the school-house or anything to indicate it. And yet
+they knew they had passed it.
+
+"Half a mile to Trout Creek. Two miles to Norton's. Can you do it,
+Bill?"
+
+Quietly as the words were spoken, there was a world of meaning in the
+question. To lose their way now would be worse, infinitely, than to lose
+oneself in one of the sandy deserts of Africa. Death was in that biting
+wind and in the blinding snow. Once lost, and, in two or three hours,
+all would be over.
+
+"Yes," came the monosyllabic reply. "Lord" Bill's lips were pursed
+tightly. Every now and then he dashed the snow and breath icicles from
+his eyelashes. The horses were almost hidden from his view.
+
+They were descending a steep gradient and they now knew that they were
+upon Trout Creek. At the creek Bill pulled up. It was the first stop
+since leaving Calford. Jacky and he jumped down. Each knew what the
+other was about to do without speaking. Jacky, reins in hand, went round
+the horses; "Lord" Bill was searching for the trail which turned off
+from the main road up the creek to Norton's. Presently he came back.
+
+"Animals all right?"
+
+"Fit as fiddles," the girl replied.
+
+"Right--jump up!"
+
+There was no assisting this girl to her seat. No "by your leave" or
+European politeness. Simply the word of one man who knows his business
+to another. Both were on their "native heath."
+
+Bill checked the horses' impetuosity and walked them slowly until he
+came to the turning. Once on the right road, however, he let them have
+their heads.
+
+"It's all right, Jacky," as the horses bounded forward.
+
+A few minutes later the sleigh drew up at Norton's, but so dark was it
+and so dense the snow fog, that only those two keen watchers on the
+front seat were able to discern the outline of the house.
+
+"Poker" John and the doctor assisted the old lady to alight whilst Jacky
+and "Lord" Bill unhitched the horses. In spite of the cold the sweat was
+pouring from the animals' sides. In answer to a violent summons on the
+storm door a light appeared in the window and "soldier" Joe Norton
+opened the door.
+
+For an instant he stood in the doorway peering doubtfully out into the
+storm. A goodly picture he made as he stood lantern in hand, his rugged
+old face gazing inquiringly at his visitors.
+
+"Hurry up, Joe, let us in," exclaimed Allandale. "We are nearly frozen
+to death."
+
+"Why, bless my soul!--bless my soul! Come in! Come in!" the old man
+exclaimed hastily as he recognized John Allandale's voice. "You out, and
+on a night like this. Bless my soul! Come in! Down, Husky, down!" to a
+bob-tail sheep-dog which bounded forward and barked savagely.
+
+"Hold on, Joe," said "Poker" John. "Let the ladies go in, we must see to
+the horses."
+
+"It's all right, uncle," said Jacky, "we've unhitched 'em. Bill's taken
+'em right away to the stables."
+
+The whole party passed into Joe Norton's sitting-room, where the old
+farmer at once set about kindling, with the aid of some coal-oil, a fire
+in the great box-stove. While his host was busy John took the lantern
+and went to "Lord" Bill's assistance in the stables.
+
+The stove lighted, Joe Norton turned to his guests.
+
+"Bless me, and to think of you, Mrs. Abbot, and Miss Jacky, too. I must
+fetch the o'd 'ooman. Hi, Molly, Molly, bestir yourself, old girl. Come
+on down, an' help the ladies. They've come for shelter out o' the
+blizzard--good luck to it."
+
+"Oh, no, don't disturb her, Joe," exclaimed Mrs. Abbot; "it's really too
+bad, at this unearthly hour. Besides, we shall be quite comfortable here
+by the stove."
+
+"No doubt--no doubt," said the old man, cheerfully, "but that's not my
+way--not my way. Any of you froze," he went on ungrammatically, "'cause
+if so, out you go and thaw it out in the snow."
+
+"I guess there's no one frozen," said Jacky, smiling into the old man's
+face. "We're too old birds for that. Ah, here's Mrs. Norton."
+
+Another warm greeting and the two ladies were hustled off to the only
+spare bedroom the Nortons boasted. By this time "Lord" Bill and "Poker"
+John had returned from the stables. While the ladies were removing their
+furs, which were sodden with the melting snow, the farmer's wife was
+preparing a rough but ample meal of warm provender in the kitchen. Such
+is hospitality in the Far North-West.
+
+When the supper was prepared the travellers sat down to the substantial
+fare. None were hungry--be it remembered that it was three o'clock in
+the morning--but each felt that some pretense in that direction must be
+made, or the kindly couple would think their welcome was insufficient.
+
+"An' what made you venture on the trail on such a night?" asked old
+Norton, as he poured out a joram of hot whiskey for each of the men. "A
+moral cert, you wouldn't strike Foss River in such a storm."
+
+"We thought it would have held off longer," said Dr. Abbot. "It was no
+use getting cooped up in town for two or three days. You know what these
+blizzards are. You may have to do with us yourself during the next
+forty-eight hours."
+
+"It's too sharp to last, Doc," put in Jacky, as she helped herself to
+some soup. Her face was glowing after her exposure to the elements. She
+looked very beautiful and not one whit worse for the drive.
+
+"Sharp enough--sharp enough," murmured old Norton, as if for something
+to say.
+
+"Sharp enough to bring some one else to your hospitable abode, Joe,"
+interrupted "Lord" Bill, quietly; "I hear sleigh bells. The wind's
+howling, but their tone is familiar."
+
+They were all listening now. "Poker" John was the first to speak.
+
+"It's--" and he paused.
+
+Before he could complete his sentence Jacky filled up the missing words.
+
+"Lablache--for a dollar."
+
+There was a moment's silence in that rough homely little kitchen. The
+expression of the faces of those around the board indexed a general
+thought.
+
+Lablache, if it were he, would not receive the cordial welcome which had
+been meted out to the others. Norton broke the silence.
+
+"Dang it! That's what I ses, dang it! You'll pardon me, ladies, but my
+feelings get the better of me at times. I don't like him. Lablache--I
+hates him," and he strode out of the room, his old face aflame with
+annoyance, to discharge the hospitable duties of the prairie.
+
+As the door closed behind him Dr. Abbot laughed constrainedly.
+
+"Lablache doesn't seem popular--here."
+
+No one answered his remark. Then "Poker" John looked over at the other
+men.
+
+"We must go and help to put his horses away."
+
+There was no suggestion in his words, merely a statement of plain facts.
+"Lord" Bill nodded and the three men rose and went to the door.
+
+As they disappeared Jacky turned to Mrs. Norton and Aunt Margaret.
+
+"If that's Lablache--I'm off to bed."
+
+Her tone was one of uncompromising decision. Mrs. Abbot was less
+assured.
+
+"Do you think it polite--wise?"
+
+"Come along, aunt. Never mind about politeness or wisdom. What do you
+say, Mrs. Norton?"
+
+"As you like, Miss Jacky. I must stay up, or--"
+
+"Yes--the men can entertain him."
+
+Just then Lablache's voice was heard outside. It was a peculiar,
+guttural, gasping voice. Aunt Margaret looked doubtfully from Jacky to
+Mrs. Norton. The latter nodded smilingly. Then following Jacky's lead
+she passed up the staircase which led from the kitchen to the rooms
+above. A moment later the door opened and Lablache and the other men
+entered.
+
+"They've gone to bed," said Mrs. Norton, in answer to "Poker" John's
+look of inquiry.
+
+"Tired, no doubt," put in Lablache, drily.
+
+"And not without reason, I guess," retorted "Poker" John, sharply. He
+had not failed to note the other's tone.
+
+Lablache laughed quietly, but his keen, restless eyes shot an unpleasant
+glance at the speaker from beneath their heavy lids.
+
+He was a burly man. In bulk he was of much the same proportions as old
+John Allandale. But while John was big with the weight of muscle and
+frame, Lablache was flabby with fat. In face he was the antithesis of
+the other. Whilst "Poker" John was the picture of florid tanning--While
+his face, although perhaps a trifle weak in its lower formation, was
+bold, honest, and redounding with kindly nature, Lablache's was
+bilious-looking and heavy with obesity. Whatever character was there, it
+was lost in the heavy folds of flesh with which it was wreathed. His
+jowl was ponderous, and his little mouth was tightly compressed, while
+his deep-sunken, bilious eyes peered from between heavy, lashless lids.
+
+Such was Verner Lablache, the wealthiest man of the Foss River
+Settlement. He owned a large store in the place, selling farming
+machinery to the settlers and ranchers about. His business was always
+done on credit, for which he charged exorbitant rates of interest,
+accepting only first mortgages upon crops and stock as security. Besides
+this he represented several of the Calford private banks, which many
+people said were really owned by him, and there was no one more ready to
+lend money--on the best of security and the highest rate of
+interest--than he. Should the borrower fail to pay, he was always
+suavely ready to renew the loan at increased interest--provided the
+security was sound. And, in the end, every ounce of his pound of flesh,
+plus not less than fifty per cent. interest, would come back to him.
+After Verner Lablache had done with him, the unfortunate rancher who
+borrowed generally disappeared from the neighborhood. Sometimes this
+man's victims were never heard of again. Sometimes they were discovered
+doing the "chores" round some obscure farmer's house. Anyway, ranch,
+crops, stock--everything the man ever had--would have passed into the
+hands of the money-lender, Lablache.
+
+Hard-headed dealer--money-grubber--as Lablache was, he had a weakness.
+To look at him--to know him--no one would have thought it, but he had.
+And at least two of those present were aware of his secret. He was in
+love with Jacky. That is to say, he coveted her--desired her. When
+Lablache desired anything in that little world of his, he generally
+secured it to himself, but, in this matter, he had hitherto been
+thwarted. His desire had increased proportionately. He was annoyed to
+think that Jacky had retired at his coming. He was in no way blind to
+the reason of her sudden departure, but beyond his first remark he was
+not the man to advertise his chagrin. He could afford to wait.
+
+"You'll take a bite o' supper, Mr. Lablache?" said old Norton, in a tone
+of inquiry.
+
+"Supper?--no, thanks, Norton. But if you've a drop of something hot I
+can do with that."
+
+"We've gener'ly got somethin' o' that about," replied the old man.
+"Whiskey or rum?"
+
+"Whisky, man, whisky. I've got liver enough already without touching
+rum." Then he turned to "Poker" John.
+
+"It's a devilish night, John, devilish. I started before you. Thought I
+could make the river in time. I was completely lost on the other side of
+the creek. I fancy the storm worked up from that direction."
+
+He lumped into a chair close beside the stove. The others had already
+seated themselves.
+
+"We didn't chance it. Bill drove us straight here," said "Poker" John.
+
+"Guess Bill knew something--he generally does," as an afterthought.
+
+"I know a blizzard when I see it," said Bunning-Ford, indifferently.
+
+Lablache sipped his whisky. A silence fell on that gathering of
+refugees. Mrs. Norton had cleared the supper things.
+
+"Well, if you gents'll excuse me I'll go back to bed. Old Joe'll look
+after you," she said abruptly. "Good-night to you all."
+
+She disappeared up the staircase. The men remained silent for a moment
+or two. They were getting drowsy. Suddenly Lablache set his glass down
+and looked at his watch.
+
+"Four o'clock, gentlemen. I suppose, Joe, there are no beds for us." The
+old farmer shook his head. "What say, John--Doc--a little game until
+breakfast?"
+
+John Allandale's face lit up. His sobriquet was no idle One. He lived
+for poker--he loved it. And Lablache knew it. Old John turned to the
+others. His right cheek twitched as he waited the decision. "Doc" Abbot
+smiled approval; "Lord" Bill shrugged indifferently. The old gambler
+rose to his feet.
+
+"That's all right, then. The kitchen table is good enough for us. Come
+along, gentlemen."
+
+"I'll slide off to bed, I guess," said Norton, thankful to escape a
+night's vigil. "Good-night, gentlemen."
+
+Then the remaining four sat down to play.
+
+The far-reaching consequences of that game were undreamt of by the
+players, except, perhaps, by Lablache. His story of the reason of his
+return to Norton's farm was only partially true. He had returned in the
+hopes of this meeting; he had anticipated this game.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A BIG GAME OF POKER
+
+
+"What about cards?" said Lablache, as the four men sat down to the
+table.
+
+"Doc will oblige, no doubt," Bunning-Ford replied quietly. "He generally
+carries the 'pernicious pasteboards' about with him."
+
+"The man who travels in the West without them," said Dr. Abbot,
+producing a couple of new packs from his pocket, "either does not know
+his country or is a victim of superstition."
+
+No one seemed inclined to refuse the doctor's statement, or enter into a
+discussion upon the matter. Instead, each drew out a small memorandum
+block and pencil--a sure indication of a "big game."
+
+"Limit?" asked the doctor.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders, affectionately shuffling the cards the
+while. He kept his eyes averted.
+
+"What do the others say?"
+
+There was a challenge in Lablache's tone. Bunning-Ford flushed slightly
+at the cheek-bones. That peculiar pursing was at his lips.
+
+"Anything goes with me. The higher the game the greater the excitement,"
+he said, shooting a keen glance at the pasty face of the money-lender.
+
+Old John was irritated. His ruddy face gleamed in the light of the lamp.
+The nervous twitching of the cheek indicated his frame of mind. Lablache
+smiled to himself behind the wood expression of his face.
+
+"Twenty dollars call for fifty. Limit the bet to three thousand
+dollars. Is that big enough for you, Lablache? Let us have a regulation
+'ante.' No 'straddling.'"
+
+There was a moment's silence. "Poker" John had proposed the biggest game
+they had yet played. He would have suggested no limit, but this he knew
+would be all in favor of Lablache, whose resources were vast.
+
+John glanced over from the money-lender to the doctor. The doctor and
+Bunning-Ford were the most to be considered. Their resources were very
+limited. The old man knew that the doctor was one of those careful
+players who was not likely to allow himself to suffer by the height of
+the stakes. There was no bluffing the doctor. "Lord" Bill was able to
+take care of himself.
+
+"That's good enough for me," said Bunning-Ford. "Let it go at that."
+
+Outwardly Lablache was indifferent; inwardly he experienced a sense of
+supreme satisfaction at the height of the stakes.
+
+The four men relapsed into silence as they cut for the deal. It was an
+education in the game to observe each man as he, metaphorically
+speaking, donned his mask of impassive reserve. As the game progressed
+any one of those four men might have been a graven image as far as the
+expression of countenance went. No word was spoken beyond "Raise you so
+and so"--"See you that." So keen, so ardent was the game that the stake
+might have been one of life and death. No money passed. Just slips of
+paper; and yet any one of those fragments represented a small fortune.
+
+The first few hands resulted in but desultory betting. Sums of money
+changed hands but there was very little in it. Lablache was the
+principal loser. Three "pots" in succession were taken by John
+Allandale, but their aggregate did not amount to half the limit. A
+little luck fell to Bunning-Ford. He once raised Lablache to the limit.
+The money-lender "saw" him and lost. Bill promptly scooped in three
+thousand dollars. The doctor was cautious. He had lost and won nothing.
+Then a change came over the game. To use a card-player's expression, the
+cards were beginning to "run."
+
+"Lord" Bill dealt. Lablache was upon his right and next to him the
+doctor.
+
+The money-lender picked up his cards, and partially opening them glanced
+keenly at the index numerals. His stolid face remained unchanged. The
+doctor glanced at his and "came in." "Poker" John "came in." The dealer
+remained out. The doctor drew two cards; "Poker" John, one; Lablache
+drew one. The veteran rancher held four nines. "Lord" Bill gathered up
+the "deadwood," and, propping his face upon his hands, watched the
+betting.
+
+It was the doctor's bet; he cautiously dropped out. He had an inkling of
+the way things were going. "Poker" John opened the ball with five
+hundred dollars. He had a good thing and he did not want to frighten his
+opponent by a plunge. He would leave it to Lablache to start raising.
+The money-lender raised him one thousand. Old John sniffed with the
+appreciation of an old war-horse at the scent of battle. The nervous,
+twitching cheek remained unmoved. The old gambler in him rose uppermost.
+
+He leisurely saw the thousand, and raised another five hundred. Lablache
+allowed his fishy eyes to flash in the direction of his opponent. A
+moment after he raised another thousand. The gamble was becoming
+interesting. The two onlookers were consumed with the lust of play. They
+forgot that in the result they would not be participants. Old John's
+face lost something of its impassivity as he in turn raised to the
+limit. Lablache eased his great body in his chair. His little mouth was
+very tightly clenched. His breathing, at times stertorous, was like the
+breathing of an asthmatical pig. He saw, and again raised to the limit.
+There was now over twelve thousand dollars in the pool.
+
+It was old John's turn. The doctor and "Lord" Bill waited anxiously. The
+old rancher was reputed very wealthy. They felt assured that he would
+not back down after having gone so far. In their hearts they both wished
+to see him relieve Lablache of a lot of money.
+
+They need have had no fears. Whatever his faults "Poker" John was a
+"dead game sport." He dashed a slip of paper into the pool. The keen
+eyes watching read "four thousand dollars" scrawled upon it. He had
+again raised to the limit. It was now Lablache's turn to accept or
+refuse the challenge. The onlookers were not so sure of the
+money-lender. Would he accept or not?
+
+A curious thought was in the mind of that monument of flesh. He knew for
+certain that he held the winning cards. How he knew it would be
+impossible to say. And yet he hesitated. Perhaps he knew the limits of
+John Allandale's resources, perhaps he felt, for the present, there was
+sufficient in the pool; perhaps, even, he had ulterior motives. Whatever
+the cause, as he passed a slip of paper into the pool merely seeing his
+opponent, his face gave no outward sign of what was passing in the brain
+behind it.
+
+Old John laid down his hand.
+
+"Four nines," he said quietly.
+
+"Not good enough," retorted Lablache; "four kings." And he spread his
+cards out upon the table before him and swept up the pile of papers
+which represented his win.
+
+A sigh, as of relief to pent-up feelings, escaped the two men who had
+watched the gamble. Old John said not a word and his face betrayed no
+thought or regret that might have been in his mind at the loss of such a
+large amount of money. He merely glanced over at the money-lender.
+
+"Your deal, Lablache," he said quietly.
+
+Lablache took the cards and a fresh deal went round. Now the game became
+one-sided. With that one large pull the money-lender's luck seemed to
+have set in. Seemingly he could do no wrong. If he drew to "three of a
+kind," he invariably filled; if to a "pair," he generally secured a
+third; once, indeed, he drew to jack, queen, king of a suit and
+completed a "royal flush." His luck was phenomenal. The other men's
+luck seemed "dead out." Bunning-Ford and the doctor could get no hands
+at all, and thus they were saved heavy losses. Occasionally, even, the
+doctor raked in a few "antes." But John Allandale could do nothing
+right. He was always drawing tolerable cards--just good enough to lose
+with. Until, by the time daylight came, he had lost so heavily that his
+two friends were eagerly seeking an excuse to break up the game.
+
+At last "Lord" Bill effected this purpose, but at considerable loss to
+himself. He had a fairly good hand, but not, as he knew, sufficiently
+good to win with. Lablache and he were left in. The money-lender had in
+one plunge raised the bet to the "limit." Bill knew that he ought to
+drop out, but, instead of so doing, he saw his opponent. He lost the
+"pot."
+
+"Thank you, gentlemen," he said, quietly rising from the table, "my
+losses are sufficient for one night. I have finished. It is daylight and
+the storm is 'letting up' somewhat."
+
+He turned as he spoke, and, glancing at the staircase, saw Jacky
+standing at the top of it. How long she had been standing there he did
+not know. He felt certain, although she gave no sign, that she had heard
+what he had just said.
+
+"Poker" John saw her too.
+
+"Why, Jacky, what means this early rising?" said the old man kindly.
+"Too tired last night to sleep?"
+
+"No, uncle. Guess I slept all right. The wind's dropping fast. I take it
+it'll be blowing great guns again before long. This is our chance to
+make the ranch." She had been an observer of the finish of the game. She
+had heard Bill's remarks on his loss, and yet not by a single word did
+she betray her knowledge. Inwardly she railed at herself for having gone
+to bed. She wondered how it had fared with her uncle.
+
+Bunning-Ford left the room. Somehow he felt that he must get away from
+the steady gaze of those gray eyes. He knew how Jacky dreaded, for her
+uncle's sake, the game they had just been playing. He wondered, as he
+went to test the weather, what she would have thought had she known the
+stakes, or the extent of her uncle's losses. He hoped she was not aware
+of these facts.
+
+"You look tired, Uncle John," said the girl, solicitously, as she came
+down the stairs. She purposely ignored Lablache. "Have you had no
+sleep?"
+
+"Poker" John laughed a little uneasily.
+
+"Sleep, child? We old birds of the prairie can do with very little of
+that. It's only pretty faces that want sleep, and I'm thinking you ought
+still to be in your bed."
+
+"Miss Jacky is ever on the alert to take advantage of the elements," put
+in Lablache, heavily. "She seems to understand these things better than
+any of us."
+
+The girl was forced to notice the money-lender. She did so reluctantly,
+however.
+
+"So you, too, sought shelter from the storm beneath old man Norton's
+hospitable roof. You are dead right, Mr. Lablache; we who live on the
+prairie need to be ever on the alert. One never knows what each hour may
+bring forth."
+
+The girl was still in her ball-dress. Lablache's fishy eyes noticed her
+charming appearance. The strong, beautiful face sent a thrill of delight
+over him as he watched it--the delicate rounded shoulders made him suck
+in his heavy breath like one who anticipates a delicate dish. Jacky
+turned from him in plainly-expressed disgust.
+
+Her uncle was watching her with a gaze half uneasy and wholly tender.
+She was the delight of his old age, the center of all his affections,
+this motherless child of his dead brother. His cheek twitched painfully
+as he thought of the huge amount of his losings to Lablache. He shivered
+perceptibly as he rose from his seat and went over to the cooking stove.
+
+"I believe you people have let the stove out," the girl exclaimed, as
+she noted her uncle's movement. She had no intention of mentioning the
+game they had been playing. She feared to hear the facts. Instinct told
+her that her uncle had lost again. "Yes, I declare you have," as she
+knelt before the grate and raked away at the ashes.
+
+Suddenly she turned to the money-lender.
+
+"Here, you, fetch me some wood and coal-oil. Men can never be trusted."
+
+Jacky was no respecter of persons. When she ordered there were few men
+on the prairie who would refuse to obey. Lablache heaved his great bulk
+from before the table and got on to his feet. His bilious eyes were
+struggling to smile. The effect was horrible. Then he moved across the
+room to where a stack of kindling stood.
+
+"Hurry up. I guess if we depended much on you we'd freeze."
+
+And Lablache, the hardest, most unscrupulous man for miles around,
+endeavored to obey with the alacrity of any sheep-dog.
+
+In spite of himself John Allandale could not refrain from smiling at the
+grotesque picture the monumental Lablache made as he lumbered towards
+the stack of kindling.
+
+When "Lord" Bill returned Lablache was bending over the stove beside the
+girl.
+
+"I've thrown the harness on the horses--watered and fed 'em," he said,
+taking in the situation at a glance. "Say, Doc," turning to Abbot,
+"better rouse your good lady."
+
+"She'll be down in a tick," said Jacky, over her shoulder. "Here,
+doctor, you might get a kettle of water--and Bill, see if you can find
+some bacon or stuff. And you, uncle, came and sit by the stove--you're
+cold."
+
+Strange is the power and fascination of woman. A look--a glance--a
+simple word and we men hasten to minister to her requirements. Half an
+hour ago and all these men were playing for fortunes--dealing in
+thousands of dollars on the turn of a card, the passion for besting his
+neighbor uppermost in each man's mind. Now they were humbly doing one
+girl's bidding with a zest unsurpassed by the devotion to their recent
+gamble.
+
+She treated them indiscriminately. Old or young, there was no
+difference. Bunning-Ford she liked--Dr. Abbot she liked--Lablache she
+hated and despised, still she allotted them their tasks with perfect
+impartiality. Only her old uncle she treated differently. That dear,
+degenerate old man she loved with an affection which knew no bounds. He
+was her all in the world. Whatever his sins--whatever his faults, she
+loved him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH
+
+
+Spring is already upon the prairie. The fur coat has already been
+exchanged for the pea-jacket. No longer is the fur cap crushed down upon
+the head and drawn over the ears until little more than the oval of the
+face is exposed to the elements; it is still worn occasionally, but now
+it rests upon the head with the jaunty cant of an ordinary headgear.
+
+The rough coated broncho no longer stands "tucked up" with the cold,
+with its hind-quarters towards the wind. Now he stands grazing on the
+patches of grass which the melting snow has placed at his disposal. The
+cattle, too, hurry to and fro as each day extends their field of fodder.
+When spring sets in in the great North-West it is with no show of
+reluctance that grim winter yields its claims and makes way for its
+gracious and all-conquering foe. Spring is upon everything with all the
+characteristic suddenness of the Canadian climate. A week--a little
+seven days--and where all before had been cheerless wastes of snow and
+ice, we have the promise of summer with us. The snow disappears as with
+the sweep of a "chinook" in winter. The brown, saturated grass is tinged
+with the bright emerald hue of new-born pasture. The bared trees don
+that yellowish tinge which tells of breaking leaves. Rivers begin to
+flow. Their icy coatings, melting in the growing warmth of the sun,
+quickly returning once more to their natural element.
+
+With the advent of spring comes a rush of duties to those whose interest
+are centered in the breeding of cattle. The Foss River Settlement is
+already teeming with life. For the settlement is the center of the great
+spring "round-up." Here are assembling the "cow-punchers" from all the
+outlying ranches, gathering under the command of a captain (generally a
+man elected for his vast experience on the prairie) and making their
+preparations to scour the prairie east and west, north and south, to the
+very limits of the far-reaching plains which spread their rolling
+pastures at the eastern base of the Rockies. Every head of cattle which
+is found will be brought into the Foss River Settlement and thence will
+be distributed to its lawful owners. This is but the beginning of the
+work, for the task of branding calves and re-branding cattle whose
+brands have become obscured during the long winter months is a process
+of no small magnitude for those who number their stocks by tens of
+thousands.
+
+At John Allandale's ranch all is orderly bustle. There is no confusion.
+Under Jacky's administration the work goes on with a simple directness
+which would astonish the uninitiated. There are the corrals to repair
+and to be put in order. Sheds and out-buildings to be whitewashed.
+Branding apparatus to be set in working order, fencing to be repaired,
+preparations for seeding to commence; a thousand and one things to be
+seen to; and all of which must be finished before the first "bands" of
+cattle are rounded up into the settlement.
+
+It is nearly a month since we saw this daughter of the prairie garbed in
+the latest mode, attending the Polo Ball at Calford, and widely
+different is her appearance now from what it was at the time of our
+introduction to her.
+
+She is returning from an inspection of the wire fencing of the home
+pastures. She is riding her favorite horse, Nigger, up the gentle slope
+which leads to her uncle's house. There is nothing of the woman of
+fashion about her now--and, perhaps, it is a matter not to be regretted.
+
+She sits her horse with the easy grace of a childhood's experience. Her
+habit, if such it can be called, is a "dungaree" skirt of a hardly
+recognizable blue, so washed out is it, surmounted by a beautifully
+beaded buckskin shirt. Loosely encircling her waist, and resting upon
+her hips, is a cartridge belt, upon which is slung the holster of a
+heavy revolver, a weapon without which she never moves abroad. Her head
+is crowned by a Stetson hat, secured in true prairie fashion by a strap
+which passes under her hair at the back, while her beautiful hair itself
+falls in heavy ringlets over her shoulders, and waves untrammelled in
+the fresh spring breeze as her somewhat unruly charger gallops up the
+hill towards the ranch.
+
+The great black horse was heading for the stable. Jacky leant over to
+one side and swung him sharply towards the house. At the veranda she
+pulled him up short. High mettled, headstrong as the animal was, he knew
+his mistress. Tricks which he would often attempt to practice upon other
+people were useless here--doubtless she had taught him that such was the
+case.
+
+The girl sprang, unaided, to the ground and hitched her picket rope to a
+tying-post. For a moment she stood on the great veranda which ran down
+the whole length of the house front. It was a one-storied,
+bungalow-shaped house, built with a high pitch to the roof and entirely
+constructed of the finest red pine-wood. Six French windows opened on to
+the veranda. The outlook was westerly, and, contrary to the usual
+custom, the ranch buildings were not overlooked by it. The corrals and
+stables were in the background.
+
+She was about to turn in at one of the windows when she suddenly
+observed Nigger's ears cocked, and his head turned away towards the
+shimmering peaks of the distant mountains. The movement fixed her
+attention instantly. It was the instinct of one who lives in a country
+where the eyes and ears of a horse are often keener and more
+far-reaching than those of its human masters. The horse was gazing with
+statuesque fixedness across a waste of partially-melted snow. A stretch
+of ten miles lay flat and smooth as a billiard-table at the foot of the
+rise upon which the house was built. And far out across this the beast
+was gazing.
+
+Jacky shaded her eyes with her hand and followed the direction of the
+horse's gaze. For a moment or two she saw nothing but the dazzling glare
+of the snow in the bright spring sunlight. Then her eyes became
+accustomed to the brilliancy, and far in the distance, she beheld an
+animal peacefully moving along from patch to patch of bare grass,
+evidently in search of fodder.
+
+"A horse," she muttered, under her breath. "Whose?"
+
+She could find no answer to her monosyllabic inquiry. She realized at
+once that to whomsoever it belonged its owner would never recover it,
+for it was grazing on the far side of the great "Muskeg," that mighty
+bottomless mire which extends for forty miles north and south and whose
+narrowest breadth is a span of ten miles. She was looking across it now,
+and innocent enough that level plain of terror appeared at that moment.
+And yet it was the curse of the ranching district, for, annually,
+hundreds of cattle met an untimely death in its cruel, absorbing bosom.
+
+She turned away for the purpose of fetching a pair of field-glasses. She
+was anxious to identify the horse. She passed along the veranda
+towards the furthest window. It was the window of her uncle's office.
+Just as she was nearing it she heard the sound of voices coming from
+within. She paused, and an ominous pucker drew her brows together. Her
+beautiful dark face clouded. She had no wish to play the part of an
+eavesdropper, but she had recognized the voices of her uncle and
+Lablache. She had also heard the mention of her own name. What woman,
+or, for that matter, man, can refrain from listening when they hear two
+people talking about them. The window was open; Jacky paused--and
+listened.
+
+Lablache's thick voice lolled heavily upon the brisk air.
+
+"She is a good girl. But don't you think you are considering her future
+from a rather selfish point of view, John?"
+
+"Selfish?" The old man laughed in his hearty manner "Maybe you're right,
+though. I never thought of that. You see I'm getting old now. I can't
+get around like I used to. Bless me, she's two-an'-twenty.
+Three-and-twenty years since my brother Dick--God rest his
+soul!--married that half-breed girl, Josie. Yes, I guess you're right,
+she's bound to marry soon."
+
+Jacky smiled a curious dark smile. Something told her why Lablache and
+her uncle were discussing her future.
+
+"Why, of course she is," said Lablache, "and when that happy event is
+accomplished I hope it will not be with any improvident--harum-scarum
+man like--like--"
+
+"The Hon. Bunning-Ford I suppose you would say, eh?"
+
+There was a somewhat sharp tone in the old man's voice which Jacky was
+not slow to detect.
+
+"Well," went on Lablache, with one of those deep whistling breaths which
+made him so like an ancient pug, "since you mention him, for want of a
+better specimen of improvidence, his name will do."
+
+"So I thought--so I thought," laughed the old man. But his words rang
+strangely. "Most people think," he went on, "that when I die Jacky will
+be rich. But she won't."
+
+"No," replied Lablache, emphatically.
+
+There was a world of meaning in his tone.
+
+"However, I guess we can let her hunt around for herself when she wants
+a husband. Jacky's a girl with a head. A sight better head than I've got
+on my old shoulders. When she chooses a husband, and comes and tells me
+of it, she shall have my blessing and anything else I have to give. I'm
+not going to interfere with that girl's matrimonial affairs, sir, not
+for any one. That child, bless her heart, is like my own child to me. If
+she wants the moon, and there's nothing else to stop her having it but
+my consent, why, I guess that moon's as good as fenced in with
+triple-barbed wire an' registered in her name in the Government Land
+Office."
+
+"And in the meantime you are going to make that same child work for her
+daily bread like any 'hired man,' and keep company with any scoun--"
+
+"Hi, stop there, Lablache! Stop there," thundered "Poker" John, and
+Jacky heard a thud as of a fist falling upon the table. "You've taken
+the unwarrantable liberty of poking your nose into my affairs, and,
+because of our old acquaintance, I have allowed it. But now let me tell
+you this is no d----d business of yours. There's no make with Jacky.
+What she does, she does of her own accord."
+
+At that moment the girl in question walked abruptly in from the veranda.
+She had heard enough.
+
+"Ah, uncle," she said, smiling tenderly up into the old man's face,
+"talking of me, I guess. You shouted my name just as I was coming along.
+Say, I want the field-glasses. Where are they?"
+
+Then she turned on Lablache as if she had only just become aware of his
+presence.
+
+"What, Mr. Lablache, you here? And so early, too. Guess this isn't like
+you. How is your store--that temple of wealth and high interest--to get
+on without you? How are the 'improvident'--'harum-scarums' to live if
+you are not present to minister to their wants--upon the best of
+security?" Without waiting for a reply the girl picked up the glasses
+she was in search of and darted out, leaving Lablache glaring his
+bilious-eyed rage after her.
+
+"Poker" John stood for a moment a picture of blank surprise; then he
+burst into a loud guffaw at the discomfited money-lender. Jacky heard
+the laugh and smiled. Then she passed out of earshot and concentrated
+her attention upon the distant speck of animal life.
+
+The girl stood for some moments surveying the creature as it moved
+leisurely along, its nose well down amongst the roots of the tawny
+grass, seeking out the tender green shoots of the new-born pasture. Then
+she closed her glasses and her thoughts wandered to other matters.
+
+The gorgeous landscape was, for a moment, utterly lost upon her. The
+snowy peaks of the Rockies, stretching far as the eye could see away to
+the north and south, like some giant fortification set up to defend the
+rolling pastures of the prairies from the ceaseless attack of the stormy
+Pacific Ocean, were far from her thoughts. Her eyes, it is true, were
+resting on the level flat of the muskeg, beyond the grove of slender
+pines which lined the approach to the house, but she was not thinking of
+that. No, recollection was struggling back through two years of a busy
+life, to a time when, for a brief space, she had watched over the
+welfare of another than her uncle, when the dark native blood which
+flowed plentifully in her veins had asserted itself, and a nature which
+was hers had refused to remain buried beneath a superficial European
+training. She was thinking of a man who had formed a secret part of her
+life for a few short years, when she had allowed her heart to dictate a
+course for her actions which no other motive but that of love could have
+brought about. She was thinking of Peter Retief, a pretty scoundrel, a
+renowned "bad man," a man of wild and reckless daring. He had been the
+terror of the countryside. A cattle-thief who feared neither man nor
+devil; a man who for twelve months and more had carried, his life in his
+hands, the sworn enemy of law and order, but who, in his worst moments,
+had never been known to injure a poor man or a woman. The wild blood of
+the half-breed that was in her had been stirred, as only a woman's blood
+can be, by his reckless dealings, his courage, effrontery, and withal
+his wondrous kindliness of disposition. She was thinking of this man
+now, this man whom she knew to be numbered amongst the countless victims
+of that dreadful mire. And what had conjured this thought? A horse--a
+horse peacefully grazing far out across the mire in the direction of the
+distant hills which she knew had once been this desperado's home.
+
+Her train of recollection suddenly became broken, and a sigh escaped her
+as the sound of her uncle's voice fell upon her ears. She did not move,
+however, for she knew that Lablache was with him, and this man she hated
+with the fiery hatred only to be found in the half-breeds of any native
+race.
+
+"I'm sorry, John, we can't agree on the point," Lablache was saying in
+his wheezy voice, as the two men stood at the other end of the veranda,
+"but I'm quite determined Upon the matter myself. The land intersects
+mine and cuts me clean off from the railway siding, and I am forced to
+take my cattle a circle of nearly fifteen miles to ship them. If he
+would only be reasonable and allow a passage I would say nothing. I will
+force him to sell."
+
+"If you can," put in the rancher. "I reckon you've got chilled steel to
+deal with when you endeavor to 'force' old Joe Norton to sell the finest
+wheat land in the country."
+
+At this point in the conversation three men came round from the back of
+the house. They were "cow" hands belonging to the ranch. They approached
+Jacky with the easy assurance of men who were as much companions as
+servants of their mistress. All three, however, touched their
+wide-brimmed hats in unmistakable respect. They were clad in buckskin
+shirts and leather "chaps," and each had his revolver upon his hip. The
+girl lost the rest of the conversation between her uncle and Lablache,
+for her attention was turned to the men.
+
+"Well?" she asked shortly, as the men stood before her.
+
+One of the men, a tall, lank specimen of the dark-skinned prairie
+half-breed, acted as spokesman.
+
+He ejected a squirt of tobacco juice from his great, dirty mouth before
+he spoke. Then with a curious backward jerk of the head he blurted out a
+stream of Western jargon.
+
+"Say, missie," he exclaimed in a high-pitched nasal voice, "it ain't no
+use in talkin', ye kent put no tenderfoot t' boss the round-up. There's
+them all-fired Donoghue lot jest sent right in t' say, 'cause, I s'pose,
+they reckon as they're the high muck-i-muck o' this location, that that
+tarnation Sim Lory, thar head man, is to cap' the round-up. Why, he
+ain't cast a blamed foot on the prairie sence he's been hyar. An' I'll
+swear he don't know the horn o' his saddle from a monkey stick. Et ain't
+right, missie, an' us fellers t' work under him an' all."
+
+His address came to an abrupt end, and he gave emphasis to his words by
+a prolonged expectoration. Jacky, her eyes sparkling with anger, was
+quick to reply.
+
+"Look you here, Silas, just go right off and throw your saddle on your
+pony--"
+
+"Guess it's right thar, missie," the man interrupted.
+
+"Then sling off as fast as your plug can lay foot to the ground, and
+give John Allandale's compliments to Jim Donoghue and say, if they don't
+send a capable man, since they've been appointed to find the 'captain,'
+he'll complain to the Association and insist on the penalty being
+enforced. What, do they take us for a lot of 'gophers'? Sim Lory,
+indeed; why, he's not fit to prise weeds with a two tine hay fork."
+
+The men went off hurriedly. Their mistress's swift methods of dealing
+with matters pleased them. Silas was more than pleased to be able to get
+a "slant" (to use his own expression) at his old enemy, Sim Lory. As the
+men departed "Poker" John came and stood beside his niece.
+
+"What's that about Sim Lory, Jacky?"
+
+"They've sent him to run this 'round-up.'"
+
+"And?"
+
+"Oh, I just told them it wouldn't do," indifferently.
+
+Old John smiled.
+
+"In those words?"
+
+"Well, no, uncle," the girl said with a responsive smile. "But they
+needed a 'jinning' up. I sent the message in your name."
+
+The old man shook his head, but his indulgent smile remained.
+
+"You'll be getting me into serious trouble with that impetuosity of
+yours, Jacky," he said absently. "But there--I daresay you know best."
+
+His words were characteristic of him. He left the entire control of the
+ranch to this girl of two-and-twenty, relying implicitly upon her
+judgment in all things. It was a strange thing to do, for he was still a
+vigorous man. To look at him was to make oneself wonder at the reason.
+But the girl accepted the responsibility without question. There was a
+subtle sympathy between uncle and niece. Sometimes Jacky would gaze up
+into his handsome old face and something in the twitching cheek, the
+curiously-shaped mouth, hidden beneath the gray mustache, would cause
+her to turn away with a sigh, and, with stimulated resolution, hurl
+herself into the arduous labors of managing the ranch. What she read in
+that dear, honest face she loved so well she kept locked in her own
+secret heart, and never, by word or act, did she allow herself to betray
+it. She was absolute mistress of the Foss River Ranch and she knew it.
+Old "Poker" John, like the morphine "fiend," merely continued to keep up
+his reputation and the more fully deserve his sobriquet. His mind, his
+character, his whole being was being slowly but surely absorbed in the
+lust of gambling.
+
+The girl laid her hand upon the old man's arm.
+
+"Uncle--what was Lablache talking to you about? I mean when I came for
+the field-glasses."
+
+"Poker" John was gazing abstractedly into the dense growth of pines
+which fringed the house. He pulled himself together, but his eyes had in
+them a far-away look.
+
+"Many things," he replied evasively.
+
+"Yes, I know, dear, but," bending her face while she removed one of her
+buckskin gauntlets from her hand, "I mean about me. You two
+were-discussing me, I know."
+
+She turned her keen gray eyes upon her relative as she finished
+speaking. The old man turned away. He felt that those eyes were reading
+his very soul. They made him uncomfortable.
+
+"Oh, he said I ought not to let you associate with certain people."
+
+"Why?" The sharp question came with the directness of a pistol-shot.
+
+"Well, he seemed to think that you might think of marrying."
+
+"Ah, and--"
+
+"He seemed to fancy that you, being impetuous, might make a mistake and
+fall--"
+
+"In love with the wrong man. Yes, I understand; and from his point of
+view, if ever I do marry it will undoubtedly be the wrong man."
+
+And the girl finished up with a mirthless laugh.
+
+They stood for some moments in silence. They were both thinking. The
+noise from the corrals behind the house reached them. The steady drip,
+drip of the water from the melting snow upon the roof of the house
+sounded loudly as it fell on the sodden ground beneath.
+
+"Uncle, did it ever strike you that that greasy money-lender wants to
+marry me himself?"
+
+The question startled John Allandale more than anything else could have
+done. He turned sharply round and faced his niece.
+
+"Marry you, Jacky?" he repeated. "I never thought of it."
+
+"It isn't to be supposed that you would have done so."
+
+There was the faintest tinge of bitterness in the girl's answer.
+
+"And do you really think that he wants to marry you?"
+
+"I don't know quite. Perhaps I am wrong, uncle, and my imagination has
+run away with me. Yes, I sometimes think he wants to marry me."
+
+They both relapsed into silence. Then her uncle spoke again.
+
+"Jacky, what you have just said has made something plain to me which I
+could not understand before. He came and gave me--unsolicited, mind--"a
+little eagerly, "a detailed account of Bunning-Ford's circumstances,
+and--"
+
+"Endeavored to bully you into sending him about his business. Poor old
+Bill! And what was his account of him?"
+
+The girl's eyes were glowing with quickly-roused passion, but she kept
+them turned from her uncle's face.
+
+"He told me that the boy had heavy mortgages on his land and stock. He
+told me that if he were to realize to-morrow there would be little or
+nothing for himself. Everything would go to some firm in Calford. In
+short, that he has gambled his ranch away."
+
+"And he told this to you, uncle, dear." Then the girl paused and looked
+far out across the great muskeg. In her abrupt fashion she turned again
+to the old man. "Uncle," she went on, "tell me truly, do you owe
+anything to Lablache? Has he any hold upon you?"
+
+There was a world of anxiety in her voice as she spoke. John Allandale
+tried to follow her thought before he answered. He seemed to grasp
+something of her meaning, for in a moment his eyes took on an expression
+of pain. Then his words came slowly, as from one who is not sure of what
+he is saying.
+
+"I owe him some--money--yes--but--"
+
+"Poker?"
+
+The question was jerked viciously from the girl's lips.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Jacky turned slowly away until her eyes rested upon the distant, grazing
+horse. A strange restlessness seemed to be upon her. She was fidgeting
+with the gauntlet which she had just removed. Then slowly her right hand
+passed round to her hip, where it rested upon the butt of her revolver.
+There was a tight drawnness about her lips and her keen gray eyes looked
+as though gazing into space.
+
+"How much?" she said at last, breaking the heavy silence which had
+followed upon her uncle's admission. Then before he could answer she
+went on deliberately: "But there--I guess it don't cut any figure.
+Lablache shall be paid, and I take it his bill of interest won't amount
+to more than we can pay if we're put to it. Poor old Bill!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE "STRAY" BEYOND THE MUSKEG
+
+
+The Foss River Settlement nestles in one of those shallow
+hollows--scarcely a valley and which yet must be designated by such a
+term--in which the Canadian North-West abounds.
+
+We are speaking now of the wilder and less-inhabited parts of the great
+country, where grain-growing is only incidental, and the prevailing
+industry is stock-raising. Where the land gradually rises towards the
+maze-like foothills before the mighty crags of the Rockies themselves be
+reached. A part where yet is to be heard of the romantic crimes of the
+cattle-raiders; a part to where civilization has already turned its
+face, but where civilizaton has yet to mature. In such a country is
+situate the Foss River Settlement.
+
+The settlement itself is like dozens of others of its kind. There is the
+school-house, standing by itself, apart from other buildings, as if in
+proud distinction for its classic vocation. There is the church, or
+rather chapel, where every denomination holds its services. A saloon,
+where four per cent. beer and prohibition whiskey of the worst
+description is openly sold over the bar; where you can buy poker "chips"
+to any amount, and can sit down and play from daylight till dark, from
+dark to daylight. A blacksmith and wheelwright; a baker; a carpenter; a
+doctor who is also a druggist; a store where one can buy every article
+of dry goods at exorbitant prices--and on credit; and then, besides all
+this, well beyond the township limit there is a half-breed settlement, a
+place which even to this day is a necessary evil and a constant thorn
+in the side of that smart, efficient force--the North-West Mounted
+Police.
+
+Lablache's store stands in the center of the settlement, facing on to
+the market-place--the latter a vague, undefined space of waste ground on
+which vendors of produce are wont to draw up their wagons. The store is
+a massive building of great extent. Its proportions rise superior to its
+surroundings, as if to indicate in a measure its owner's worldly status
+in the district It is built entirely of stone, and roofed with
+slate--the only building of such construction in the settlement.
+
+A wonderful center of business is Lablache's store--the chief one for a
+radius of fifty miles. Nearly the whole building is given up to the
+stocking of goods, and only at the back of the building is to be found a
+small office which answers the multifarious purposes of office, parlor,
+dining-room, smoking-room--in short, every necessity of its owner,
+except bedroom, which occupies a mere recess partitioned off by thin
+matchwood boarding.
+
+Wealthy as Lablache was known to be he spent little or no money upon
+himself beyond just sufficient to purchase the bare necessities of life.
+He had few requirements which could not be satisfied under the headings
+of tobacco and food--both of which he indulged himself freely. The
+saloon provided the latter, and as for the former, trade price was best
+suited to his inclinations, and so he drew upon his stock. He was a
+curious man, was Verner Lablache--a man who understood the golden value
+of silence. He never even spoke of his nationality. Foss River was
+content to call him curious--some people preferred other words to
+express their opinion.
+
+Lablache had known John Allandale for years. Who, in Foss River, had he
+not known for years? Lablache would have liked to call old John his
+friend, but somehow "Poker" John had never responded to the
+money-lender's advances. Lablache showed no resentment. If he cared at
+all he was careful to keep his feelings hidden. One thing is certain,
+however, he allowed himself to think long and often of old John--and his
+household. Often, when in the deepest stress of his far-reaching work,
+he would heave his great bulk back in his chair and allow those fishy,
+lashless, sphinx-like eyes of his to gaze out of his window in the
+direction of the Foss River Ranch. His window faced in the direction of
+John's house, which was plainly visible on the slope which bounded the
+southern side of the settlement.
+
+And so it came about a few days later, in one of these digressions of
+thought, that the money-lender, gazing out towards the ranch, beheld a
+horseman riding slowly up to the veranda of the Allandale's house. There
+was nothing uncommon in the incident, but the sight riveted his
+attention, and an evil light came into his usually expressionless eyes.
+He recognized the horseman as the Hon. Bunning-Ford.
+
+Lablache swung round on his revolving chair, and, in doing so, kicked
+over a paper-basket. The rapidity of his movement was hardly to be
+expected in one of his bulk. His thin eyebrows drew together in an ugly
+frown.
+
+"What does he want?" he muttered, under his heavy breath.
+
+He hazarded no answer to his own question. It was answered for him. He
+saw the figure of a woman step out on to the veranda.
+
+The money-lender rose swiftly to his feet and took a pair of
+field-glasses from their case. Adjusting them he gazed long and
+earnestly at the house on the hill.
+
+Jacky was talking to "Lord" Bill. She was habited in her dungaree skirt
+and buckskin bodice. Presently Bill dismounted and passed into the
+house.
+
+Lablache shut his glasses with a snap and turned away from the window.
+For some time he stood gazing straight before him and a swift torrent of
+thought flowed through his active brain. Then, with the directness of
+one whose mind is made up, he went over to a small safe which stood in
+a corner of the room. From this he took an account book. The cover bore
+the legend "Private." He laid it upon the table, and, for some moments,
+bent over it as he scanned its pages.
+
+He paused at an account headed John Allandale. The figures of this
+account were very large, totalling into six figures. The balance against
+the rancher was enormous. Lablache gave a satisfied grunt as he turned
+over to another account.
+
+"Safe--safe enough. Safe as the Day of Doom," he said slowly. His mouth
+worked with a cruel smile.
+
+He paused at the account of Bunning-Ford.
+
+"Twenty thousand dollars--um," the look of satisfaction was changed. He
+looked less pleased, but none the less cruel. "Not enough--let me see.
+His place is worth fifty thousand dollars. Stock another thirty
+thousand. I hold thirty-five thousand on first mortgage for the Calford
+Trust and Loan Co." He smiled significantly. "This bill of sale for
+twenty thousand is in my own name. Total, fifty-five thousand. Sell him
+up and there would still be a margin. No, not yet, my friend."
+
+He closed the book and put it away. Then he walked to the window.
+Bunning-Ford's horse was still standing outside the house.
+
+"He must be dealt with soon," he muttered.
+
+And in those words was concentrated a world of hate and cruel purpose.
+
+Who shall say of what a man's disposition is composed? Who shall
+penetrate those complex feelings which go to make a man what his secret
+consciousness knows himself to be? Not even the man himself can tell the
+why and wherefore of his passions and motives. It is a matter beyond the
+human ken. It is a matter which neither science nor learning can tell us
+of. Verner Lablache was possessed of all that prosperity could give him.
+He was wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, and no pleasure which money
+could buy was beyond his reach. He knew, only too well, that when the
+moment came, and he wished it, he could set out for any of the great
+centers of fashion and society, and there purchase for himself a wife
+who would fulfill the requirements of the most fastidious. In his own
+arrogant mind he went further, and protested that he could choose whom
+he would and she would be his. But this method he set aside as too
+simple, and, instead, had decided to select for his wife a girl whom he
+had watched grow up to womanhood from the first day that she had opened
+her great, wondering eyes upon the world. And thus far he had been
+thwarted. All his wealth went for nothing. The whim of this girl he had
+chosen was more powerful in this matter than was gold--the gold he
+loved. But Lablache was not the man to sit down and admit of defeat; he
+meant to marry Joaquina Allandale willy-nilly. Love was impossible to
+such a man as he. He had conceived an absorbing passion for her, it is
+true, but love--as it is generally understood--no. He was not a young
+man--the victim of a passion, fierce but transient. He was matured in
+all respects--in mind and body. His passion was lasting, if impure, and
+he meant to take to himself the girl-wife. Nothing should stand in his
+way.
+
+He turned back to his desk, but not to work.
+
+In the meantime the object of his forcible attentions was holding an
+interesting _tête-à-tête_ with the man against whom he fostered an evil
+purpose.
+
+Jacky was seated at a table in the pleasant sitting-room of her uncle's
+house. Spread out before her were several open stock books, from which
+she was endeavoring to estimate the probable number of "beeves" which
+the early spring would produce. This was a task which she always liked
+to do herself before the round-up was complete, so as the easier to sort
+the animals into their various pastures when they should come in. Her
+visitor was standing with his back to the stove, in typical Canadian
+fashion. He was, clad in a pair of well-worn chaps drawn over a pair of
+moleskin trousers, and wore a gray tweed coat and waistcoat over a soft
+cotton shirt, of the "collar attached" type. As he stood there the stoop
+of his shoulders was very pronounced. His fair hair was carefully
+brushed, and although his face was slightly weather-stained, still, it
+was quite easy to imagine the distinguished figure he would be, clad in
+all the solemn pomp of broadcloth and the silk glaze of fashionable
+society in the neighborhood of Bond Street.
+
+The girl was not looking at her books. She was looking up and smiling at
+a remark her companion had just made.
+
+"And so your friend, Pat Nabob, is going up into the mountains after
+gold. Does he know anything about prospecting?"
+
+"I think so--he's had some experience."
+
+Jacky became serious. She rose and turned to the window, which commanded
+a perfect view of the distant peaks of the Rockies, towering high above
+the broad, level expanse of the great muskeg. With her back still turned
+to him she fired an abrupt question.
+
+"Say, Bill, guess 'Pickles' has some other reason for this mad scheme.
+What is it? You can't tell me he's going just for love of the adventure
+of the thing. Now, let's hear the truth."
+
+Unobserved by the girl, her companion shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"If you want his reason you'd better ask him, Jacky. I can only
+surmise."
+
+"So can I." Jacky turned sharply. "I'll tell you why he's going, Bill,
+and you can bet your last cent I'm right. Lablache is at the bottom of
+it. He's at the bottom of everything that causes people to leave Foss
+River. He's a blood-sucker."
+
+Bunning-Ford nodded. He was rarely expansive. Moreover, he knew he could
+add nothing to what the girl had said. She expressed his sentiments
+fully. There was a pause. Jacky was keenly eyeing the tall thin figure
+at the stove.
+
+"Why did you come to tell me of this?" she asked at last.
+
+"Thought you'd like to know. You like 'Pickles.'"
+
+"Yes--Bill, you are thinking of going with him."
+
+Her companion laughed uneasily. This girl was very keen.
+
+"I didn't say so."
+
+"No, but still you are thinking of doing so. See here, Bill, tell me all
+about it."
+
+Bill coughed. Then he turned, and stooping, shook the ashes from the
+stove and opened the damper.
+
+"Beastly cold in here," he remarked inconsequently.
+
+"Yes--but, out with it."
+
+Bill stood up and turned his indolent eyes upon his interrogator.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of going--to the mountains."
+
+"Where then?"
+
+"To the Yukon."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+In spite of herself the girl could not help the exclamation.
+
+"Why?" she went on a moment later.
+
+"Well, if you must have it, I shan't be able to last out this
+summer--unless a stroke of luck falls to my share."
+
+"Financially?"
+
+"Financially."
+
+"Lablache?"
+
+"Lablache--and the Calford Trust Co."
+
+"The same thing," with conviction.
+
+"Exactly--the same thing."
+
+"And you stand?"
+
+"If I meet the interest on my mortgages it will take away every head of
+fat cattle I can scrape together, and then I cannot pay Lablache other
+debts which fall due in two weeks' time." He quietly drew out his
+tobacco-pouch and rolled a cigarette. He seemed quite indifferent to his
+difficulties. "If I realize on the ranch now there'll be something left
+for me. If I go on, by the end of the summer there won't be."
+
+"I suppose you mean that you will be deeper in debt."
+
+He smiled in his own peculiarly lazy fashion as he held a lighted match
+to his cigarette.
+
+"Just so. I shall owe Lablache more," he said, between spasmodic draws
+at his tobacco.
+
+"Lablache has wonderful luck at cards."
+
+"Yes," shortly.
+
+Jacky returned to the table and sat down. She turned the pages of a
+stock book idly. She was thinking and the expression of her dark,
+determined little face indicated the unpleasant nature of her thoughts.
+Presently she looked up and encountered the steady gaze of her
+companion. They were great friends--these two. In that glance each read
+in the other's mind something of a mutual thought. Jacky, with womanly
+readiness, put part of it into words.
+
+"No one ever seems to win against him, Bill. Guess he makes a steady
+income out of poker."
+
+The man nodded and gulped down a deep inhalation from his cigarette.
+
+"Wonderful luck," the girl went on.
+
+"Some people call it 'luck,'" put in Bill, quietly, but with a curious
+purse of the lips.
+
+"What do you call it?" sharply.
+
+Bunning-Ford refused to commit himself. He contented himself with
+blowing the ash from his cigarette and crossing over to the window,
+where he stood looking out. He had come there that afternoon with a
+half-formed intention of telling this girl something which every girl
+must hope to hear sooner or later in her life. He had come there with
+the intention of ending, one way or the other, a
+friendship--_camaraderie_--whatever you please to call it, by telling
+this hardy girl of the prairie the old, old story over again. He loved
+this woman with an intensity that very few would have credited him with.
+Who could associate lazy, good-natured, careless "Lord" Bill with
+serious love? Certainly not his friends. And yet such was the case, and
+for that reason had he come. The affairs of Pat Nabob were but a
+subterfuge. And now he found it impossible to pronounce the words he had
+so carefully thought out. Jacky was not the woman to approach easily
+with sentiment, she was so "deucedly practical." So Bill said to
+himself. It was useless to speculate upon her feelings. This girl never
+allowed anything approaching sentiment to appear upon the surface. She
+knew better than to do so. She had the grave responsibility of her
+uncle's ranch upon her shoulders, therefore all men must be kept at
+arm's length. She was in every sense a woman, passionate, loyal, loving.
+But in addition nature had endowed her with a spirit which rose superior
+to feminine attributes and feelings. The blood in her veins--her life on
+the prairie--her tender care and solicitude for her uncle, of whose
+failings and weaknesses she was painfully aware, had caused her to put
+from her all thoughts of love and marriage. Her life must be devoted to
+him, and while he lived she was determined that no thought of self
+should interfere with her self-imposed duty.
+
+At last "Lord" Bill broke the silence which had fallen upon the room
+after the girl's unanswered question. His remark seemed irrevelant and
+inconsequent.
+
+"There's a horse on the other side of the muskeg. Who's is it?"
+
+Jacky was at his side in an instant. So suddenly had she bounded from
+the table, that her companion turned, with that lazy glance of his, and
+looked keenly at her. He failed to understand her excitement. She had
+snatched up a pair of field-glasses and had already leveled them at the
+distant object.
+
+She looked long and earnestly across the miry waste. Then she turned to
+her companion with a strange look in her beautiful gray eyes.
+
+"Bill, I've seen that horse before. Four days ago. I've looked for it
+ever since, but couldn't see it. I'm going to round it up."
+
+"Eh? How?"
+
+Bill was looking out across the muskeg again.
+
+"Guess I'm going right across there this evening," the girl said
+quietly.
+
+"Across the muskeg?" Her companion was roused out of himself. His
+usually lazy gray eyes were gleaming brightly. "Impossible!"
+
+"Not at all, Bill," she replied, with an easy smile. "I know the path."
+
+"But I thought there was only one man who ever knew that mythical path,
+and--he is dead."
+
+"Quite right, Bill--only one _man_."
+
+"Then the old stories--"
+
+There was a peculiar expression on the man's face. The girl interrupted
+him with a gay laugh.
+
+"Bother the 'old stories.' I'm going across there this evening after
+tea--coming?"
+
+Bunning-Ford looked across at the clock--the hands pointed to half-past
+one. He was silent for a minute. Then he said,--
+
+"I'll be with you at four if--if you'll tell me all about--"
+
+"Peter Retief--yes, I'll tell you as we go, Bill. What are you going to
+do until then?"
+
+"I'm going down to the saloon to meet 'Pickles,' your pet aversion,
+Pedro Mancha, and we're going to find a fourth."
+
+"Ah, poker?"
+
+"Yes, poker."
+
+"I'm sorry, Bill. But be here at four sharp and I'll tell you all about
+it. See here, boy, 'mum's' the word."
+
+The craving of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's life was excitement. His
+temperament bordered on the lethargic. He felt that unless he could
+obtain excitement life was utterly unbearable. He had sought it all over
+the world before he had adopted the life of a rancher. Here in the West
+of Canada he had found something of what he sought. There was the big
+game shooting in the mountains, and the pursuit of the "grizzly" is the
+most wildly enthralling chase in the world. There was the taming and
+"breaking" of the wild and furious "broncho"--the most exemplary
+"bucking" horse in the world. There was the "round-up" and handling of
+cattle which never failed to give unlimited excitement. And then, at all
+times, was the inevitable poker, that king of all excitements among card
+games. The West of Canada had pleased "Lord" Bill as did no other
+country, and so he had invested the remains of his younger son's portion
+in stock.
+
+He had asked for excitement and Canada had responded generously. Bill
+had found more than excitement, he had found love; and had found a
+wealth of real friendship rarely equaled in the busy cities of
+civilization.
+
+In the midst of all these things which, seeking, he had found, came this
+suggestion from a girl. The muskeg--the cruel, relentless muskeg, that
+mire, dreaded and shunned by white men and natives alike. It could be
+crossed by a secret, path. The thought pleased him. And none knew of
+this path except a man who was dead and this girl he loved. There was a
+strange excitement in the thought of such a journey.
+
+"Lord" Bill, ignoring his stirrup, vaulted into his saddle, and, as he
+swung his horse round and headed towards the settlement, he wondered
+what the day would bring forth.
+
+"Confound the cards," he muttered, as he rode away.
+
+And it was the first time in his life that he had reluctantly
+contemplated a gamble.
+
+Had he only known it, a turning-point in his life was rapidly
+approaching--a turning-point which would lead to events which, if told
+as about to occur in the nineteenth century, would surely bring down
+derision upon the head of the teller. And yet would the derided one have
+right on his side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+"WAYS THAT ARE DARK"
+
+
+It was less than a quarter of a mile from the Allandales' house to the
+saloon--a den of reeking atmosphere and fouler spirits.
+
+The saloon at Foss River was no better and no worse than hundreds of
+others in the North-West at the time of which we write. It was a fairly
+large wooden building standing at the opposite end of the open space
+which answered the purpose of a market-place, and facing Lablache's
+store. Inside, it was gloomy, and the air invariably reeked of stale
+tobacco and drink. The bar was large, and at one end stood a piano kept
+for the purpose of "sing-songs"--nightly occurrences when the execrable
+whisky had done its work. Passing through the bar one finds a large
+dining-room on one side of a passage, and, on the other, a number of
+smaller rooms devoted to the use of those who wished to play poker.
+
+It was towards this place that the Hon. Bunning-Ford was riding in the
+leisurely manner of one to whom time is no object.
+
+His thoughts were far from matters pertaining to his destination, and he
+would gladly have welcomed anything which could have interfered with his
+projected game. For the moment poker had lost its charm.
+
+This man was at no time given to vacillation. All his methods were, as a
+rule, very direct. Underneath his easy nonchalance he was of a very
+decided nature. His thin face at times could suddenly become very keen.
+His true character was hidden by the cultivated lazy expression of his
+eyes. Bunning-Ford was one of those men who are at their best in
+emergency. At all other times life was a thing which it was impossible
+for him to take seriously. He valued money as little as he valued
+anything in the world. Poker he looked upon as a means to an end. He had
+no religious principles, but firmly believed in doing as he would be
+done by. Honesty and truth he loved, because to him they were clean. It
+mattered nothing to him what his surroundings might be, for, though
+living in them, he was not of them. He would as soon sit down to play
+cards with three known murderers as play in the best club in London, and
+he would treat them honestly and expect the same in return--but a loaded
+revolver would be slung upon his hip and the holster would be open and
+handy.
+
+As he neared the saloon he recognized the figures of two men walking in
+the direction of the saloon. They were the doctor and John Allandale. He
+rode towards them.
+
+"Hallo, Bill, whither bound?" said the old rancher, as the younger man
+came up. "Going to join us in the parlor of Smith's fragrant hostelry?
+The spider is already there weaving the web in which he hopes to ensnare
+us."
+
+Bunning-Ford shook his head.
+
+"Who's the spider--Lablache?"
+
+"Yes, we're going to play. It's the first time for some days. Guess
+we've all been too busy with the round-up. Won't you really join us?"
+
+"Can't. I've promised Mancha and 'Pickles' revenge for a game we played
+the other night, when I happened to relieve them of a few dollars."
+
+"Sensible man--Lablache is too consistent," put in the doctor, quietly.
+
+"Nonsense," said "Poker" John, optimistically. "You're always carping
+about the man's luck. We must break it soon."
+
+"Yes, we've suggested that before."
+
+Bill spoke with meaning and finished up with a purse of the lips.
+
+They were near the saloon.
+
+"How long are you going to play?" he went on quietly.
+
+"Right through the evening," replied "Poker" John, with keen
+satisfaction. "And you?"
+
+"Only until four o'clock. I am going to take tea up at your place."
+
+The old man offered no comment and Bill dismounted and tied the horse to
+a post, and the three men entered the stuffy bar. The room was half full
+of people. They were mostly cow-boys or men connected with the various
+ranches about the neighborhood. Words of greeting hailed the new-comers
+on all sides, but old John, who led the way, took little or no notice of
+those whom he recognized. The lust of gambling was upon him, and, as a
+dipsomaniac craves for drink, so he was longing to feel the smooth
+surface of pasteboard between his fingers. While Bunning-Ford stopped to
+exchange a word with some of those he met, the other two men went
+straight up to the bar. Smith himself, a grizzled old man, with a
+tobacco-stained gray moustache and beard, and the possessor of a pair of
+narrow, wicked-looking eyes, was serving out whisky to a couple of
+worse-looking half-breeds. It was noticeable that every man present wore
+at his waist either a revolver or a long sheath knife. Even the
+proprietor was fully armed. The half-breeds wore knives.
+
+"Poker" John was apparently a man of distinction here. Possibly the
+knowledge that he played a big game elicited for him a sort of
+indifferent respect. Anyway, the half-breeds moved to allow him to
+approach the bar.
+
+"Lablache here?" asked the rancher, eagerly.
+
+"He is," replied Mr. Smith, in a drawling voice, as he pushed the two
+whiskies across to the waiting half-breeds. "Been here half an hour.
+Jest pass right through, mister. Maybe you'll find him located in number
+two."
+
+There was no doubt that John B. Smith hailed from America. Although the
+Canadian is not devoid of the American accent there is not much doubt of
+nationality when one hears the real thing.
+
+"Good; come on, Doc. No, thanks, Smith," as the man behind the bar
+reached towards a bottle with a white seal. "We'll have something later
+on. Number two on the right, I think you said."
+
+The two men passed on into the back part of the premises.
+
+"Guess dollars'll be flyin' 'fore the night's out," said Smith,
+addressing any who cared to listen, and indicating "Poker" John with a
+jerk of the head in the direction of the door through which the two men
+had just passed. "Make the banks hum when they raise the 'bid.' Guess
+ther' ain't many o' ther' likes roun' these parts. Rye or Scotch?" to
+"Lord" Bill and three other men who came up at that moment. Mancha and
+"Pickles" were with him, and a fourth player--the deposed captain of the
+"round-up," Sim Lory.
+
+"Scotch, you old heathen, of course," replied Bill, with a tolerant
+laugh. "You don't expect us to drink fire-water. If you kept decent Rye
+it would be different. We're going to have a flutter. Any room?"
+
+"Number two, I guess. Chock-a-block in the others. Tolerable run on
+poker these times. All the round-up hands been gettin' advances, I take
+it. Say when."
+
+The four men said "when" in due course, and each watered his own whisky.
+The proprietor went on, with a quick twinkle of his beady eyes,--
+
+"Ther's Mr. Allandale an' Lablache and company in number two. Nobody
+else, I guess. I've a notion you'll find plenty of room. Chips, no? All
+right; goin' to play a tidy game? Good!"
+
+The four men, having swallowed their drink, followed in the footsteps of
+the others.
+
+There was something very brisk and business-like about this
+gambling-hell. Early settlers doubtless remember in the days of
+"prohibition," when four per cent. beer was supposed to be the only
+beverage of the country, and before rigid legislation, backed by the
+armed force of the North-West Mounted Police, swept these frightful
+pollutions from the fair face of the prairie, how they thrived on the
+encouragement of gambling and the sale of contraband spirits. The West
+is a cleaner country now, thanks to the untiring efforts of the police.
+
+In number two "Poker" John and his companions were already getting to
+work when Bill and his friends entered. Beyond a casual remark they
+seemed to take little notice of each other. One and all were eager to
+begin the play.
+
+A deep silence quickly fell upon the room. It was the silence of
+suppressed excitement. A silence only broken by monosyllabic and almost
+whispered betting and "raising" as the games proceeded. An hour passed
+thus. At the table where Lablache and John Allandale were playing the
+usual luck prevailed. The money-lender seemed unable to do wrong, and at
+the other table Bunning-Ford was faring correspondingly badly. Pedro
+Mancha, the Mexican, a man of obscure past and who lived no one quite
+knew how, but who always appeared to find the necessary to gamble with,
+was the favored one of dame Fortune. Already he had heaped before him a
+pile of "bills" and I.O.U.'s most of which bore "Lord" Bill's signature.
+Looking on at either table, no one from outward signs could have said
+which way the luck was going. Only the scribblings of the pencils upon
+the memo pads and the gradual accumulation of the precious slips of
+paper before Lablache at one table and the wild-eyed, dark-skinned
+Mexican at the other, told the story of the ruin which was surely being
+accomplished.
+
+At length, with a loser's privilege, Bunning-Ford, after glancing at his
+watch, rose from the table. His lean face was in no way disturbed. He
+seemed quite indifferent to his losses.
+
+"I'll quit you, Pedro," he said, smiling lazily down at the Mexican.
+"You're a bit too hot for me to-day."
+
+The dark-skinned man smiled a vague, non-committing smile and displayed
+a double row of immaculate teeth.
+
+"Good. You shall have your revenge. Doubtless you would like some of
+these papers back," he said, as he swept them leisurely into his
+pocket-book, and then sugar-bagging a cigarette paper he poured a few
+grains of granulated tobacco into it.
+
+"Yes, I daresay I shall relieve you of some later on," replied Bill,
+quietly. Then he turned to the other table and stood watching the play.
+
+He glanced anxiously at the bare table in front of the old rancher. Even
+Dr. Abbot was well stocked with slips of paper. Then his gaze fell upon
+the money-lender, behind whose huge back he was standing.
+
+He moved slightly to one side. It is an unwritten law amongst poker
+players, in a public place in the west of the American continent, that
+no onlooker should stand immediately behind any player. He moved to
+Lablache's right. The money-lender was dealing. "Lord" Bill lit a
+cigarette.
+
+The cards were dealt round. Then the draw. Then Lablache laid the pack
+down. Bunning-Ford had noted these things mechanically. Then something
+caught his attention. It was his very indifference which caused his
+sudden attention. Had he been following the game with his usual keenness
+he would only have been thinking of the betting.
+
+Lablache was writing upon his memo, pad, which was a gorgeous effort in
+silver mounting. One of those oblong blocks with a broad band of
+burnished silver at the binding of the perforated leaves. He knew that
+this was the pad the money-lender always used; anyway, it was similar in
+all respects to his usual memorandum pads.
+
+How it was his attention had become fixed upon that pad he could not
+have told, but now an inspiration came to him. His face remained
+unchanged in its expression, but those lazy eyes of his gleamed wickedly
+as he leisurely puffed at his cigarette.
+
+The bet went round. Lablache raised and raised again. Eventually the
+rancher "saw" him. The other took the pool. No word was spoken, but
+"Lord" Bill gritted his teeth and viciously pitched his cigarette to
+the other end of the room.
+
+During the next two deals he allowed his attention to wander. Lablache
+dropped out one hand, and, in the next, he merely "filled" his "ante"
+and allowed the doctor to take in the pool. John Allandale's face was
+serious. The nervous twitching of the cheek was still, but the drawn
+lines around his mouth were in no way hidden by his gray mustache, nor
+did the eager light which burned luridly in his eyes for one moment
+deceive the onlooker as to the anxiety of mind which his features
+masked.
+
+Now it was Lablache's deal. "Lord" Bill concentrated his attention upon
+the dealer. The money-lender was left-handed. He held the pack in his
+right, and, in dealing, he was slow and slightly clumsy. The object of
+Bunning-Ford's attention quickly became apparent. Each card as it left
+the pack was passed over the burnished silver of the dealer's memorandum
+pad. It was smartly done, and Lablache was assisted by the fact that the
+piece of metal was inclined towards him. There was no necessity to look
+down deliberately to see the reflection of each card as it passed on its
+way to its recipient, a glance--just the glance necessary when dealing
+cards--and the money-lender, by a slight effort of memory, knew every
+hand that was out. Lablache was cheating.
+
+To say that "Lord" Bill was astonished would be wrong. He was not. He
+had long suspected it. The steady run of luck which Lablache had
+persisted in was too phenomenal. It was enough to set the densest
+thinking. Now everything was plain. Standing where he was, Bill had
+almost been able to read the index numerals himself. He gave no sign of
+his discovery. Apparently the matter was of no consequence to him, for
+he merely lit a fresh cigarette and walked towards the door. He turned
+as he was about to pass out.
+
+"What time shall I tell Jacky to expect you home, John?" he said
+quietly, addressing the old rancher.
+
+Lablache looked up with a swift, malevolent glance, but he said nothing.
+Old John turned a drawn face to the speaker.
+
+"Supper, I guess," he said in a thick voice, husky from long silence.
+"And tell Smith to send me in a bottle of 'white seal' and some
+glasses."
+
+"Right you are." Then "Lord" Bill passed out. "Poker without whisky is
+bad," he muttered as he made his way back to the bar, "but poker and
+whisky together can only be the beginning of the end. We'll see. Poor
+old John!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG
+
+
+It was on the stroke of four o'clock when Bunning-Ford left the saloon.
+He had said that he would be at the ranch at four, and usually he liked
+to be punctual. He was late now, however, and made no effort to make up
+time. Instead, he allowed his horse to walk leisurely in the direction
+of the Allandales' house. He wanted time to think before he again met
+Jacky.
+
+He was confronted by a problem which taxed all his wit. It was perhaps a
+fortunate thing that his was not a hasty temperament. He well knew the
+usual method of dealing with men who cheated at cards in those Western
+wilds. Each man carried his own law in his holster. He had realized
+instantly that Lablache was not a case for the usual treatment. Pistol
+law would have defeated its own ends. Such means would not recover the
+terrible losses of "Poker" John, neither would he recover thereby his
+own lost property. No, he congratulated himself upon the restraint he
+had exercised when he had checked his natural impulse to expose the
+money-lender. Now, however, the case looked more complicated, and, for
+the moment, he could see no possible means of solving the difficulty.
+Lablache must be made to disgorge--but how? John Allandale must be
+stopped playing and further contributing to Lablache's ill-gotten gains.
+Again--but how?
+
+Bill was roused out of his usual apathetic indifference. The moment had
+arrived when he must set aside the old indolent carelessness. He was
+stirred to the core. A duty had been suddenly forced upon him. A duty to
+himself and also a duty to those he loved. Lablache had consistently
+robbed him, and also the uncle of the girl he loved. Now, how to
+restore that property and prevent the villain's further depredations?
+
+Again and again he asked himself the question as he allowed his horse to
+mouche, with slovenly step, over the sodden prairie; but no answer
+presented itself. His thin, eagle face was puckered with perplexity. The
+sleepy eyes gleamed vengefully from between his half-closed eyelids as
+he gazed across the sunlit prairie. His aquiline nose, always bearing a
+resemblance to an eagle's beak, was rendered even more like that
+aristocratic proboscis by reason of the down-drawn tip, consequent upon
+the odd pursing of his tightly-compressed lips. For the moment "Lord"
+Bill was at a loss. And, oddly enough, he began to wonder if, after all,
+silence had been his best course.
+
+He was still struggling in the direst perplexity when he drew up at the
+veranda of the ranch. Dismounting, he hitched his picket rope to the
+tying-post and entered the sitting-room by the open French window. Tea
+was set upon the table and Jacky was seated before the stove.
+
+"Late, Bill, late! Guess that 'plug' of yours is a rapid beast, judging
+by the pace you came up the hill."
+
+For the moment Bunning-Ford's face had resumed its wonted air of lazy
+good-nature.
+
+"Glad you took the trouble to watch for me, Jacky," he retorted quickly,
+with an attempt at his usual lightness of manner. "I appreciate the
+honor."
+
+"Nothing of the sort. I was looking for uncle. The mail brought a letter
+from Calford. Dawson, the cattle buyer of the Western Railway Company,
+wants to see him. The Home Government are buying largely. He is
+commissioned to purchase 30,000 head of prime beeves. Come along, tea's
+ready."
+
+Bill seated himself at the table and Jacky poured out the tea. She was
+dressed for the saddle.
+
+"Where is Dawson now?" asked Bill.
+
+"Calford. Guess he'll wait right there for uncle."
+
+Suddenly a look of relief passed across the man's face.
+
+"This is Wednesday. At six o'clock the mail-cart goes back to town. Send
+some one down to the _saloon_ at once, and John will be able to go in
+to-night."
+
+As Bill spoke his eyes encountered a direct and steady glance from the
+girl. There was much meaning in that mute exchange. For answer Jacky
+rose and rang a bell sharply.
+
+"Send a hand down to the settlement to find my uncle. Ask him to come up
+at once. There is an important letter awaiting him," she said, to the
+old servant who answered the summons.
+
+"Bill, what's up?" she went on, when the retainer had departed.
+
+"Lots. Look here, Jacky, we mustn't be long over tea. We must both be
+out of the house when your uncle returns. He may not want to go into
+town to-night. Anyway, I don't want to give him the chance of asking any
+questions until we have had a long talk. He's losing to Lablache again."
+
+"Ah! I don't want anything to eat. Whenever you are ready, Bill, I am."
+
+Bunning-Ford drank his tea and rose from the table. The girl followed
+his example.
+
+There was something very strong and resolute in the brisk,
+ready-for-emergency ways of this girl. There was nothing of the
+ultra-feminine dependence and weakness of her sex about her. And yet her
+hardiness detracted in no way from her womanly charm; rather was that
+complex abstract enhanced by her wonderful self-reliance. There are
+those who decry independence in women, but surely only such must come
+from those whose nature is largely composed of hectoring selfishness.
+There was a resolute set of the mouth as Jacky sent word to the stables
+to have her horse brought round. She asked no questions of her
+companion, as, waiting for compliance with her orders, she drew on her
+stout buckskin gauntlets. She understood this man well enough to be
+aware that his suggestion was based upon necessity. "Lord" Bill rarely
+interfered with anything or anybody, but when such an occasion arose his
+words carried a deal of weight with those who knew him.
+
+A few minutes later and they were both riding slowly down the avenue of
+pines leading from the house. The direction in which they were moving
+was away from the settlement, down towards where the great level flat of
+the muskeg began. At the end of the avenue they turned directly to the
+southeast, leaving the township behind them. The prairie was soft and
+springy. There was still a keen touch of winter in the fresh spring air.
+The afternoon sun was shining coldly athwart the direction of their
+route.
+
+Jacky led the way, and, as they drew clear of the bush, and the house
+and settlement were hidden from view behind them, she urged her horse
+into a good swinging lope. Thus they progressed in silence. The
+far-reaching deadly mire on their right, looking innocent enough in the
+shadow of the snow-clad peaks beyond, the ranch well behind them in the
+hollow of the Foss River Valley, whilst, on their left, the mighty
+prairie rolled away upwards to the higher level of the surrounding
+country.
+
+In this way they covered nearly a mile, then the girl drew up beside a
+small clump of weedy bush.
+
+"Are you ready for the plunge, Bill?" she asked, as her companion drew
+up beside her. "The path's not more than four feet wide. Does your
+'plug' shy any?"
+
+"He's all right. You lead right on. Where you can travel I've a notion
+I'm not likely to funk. But I don't see the path."
+
+"I guess you don't. Never did nature keep her secret better than in the
+setting out of this one road across her woeful man-trap. You can't see
+the path, but I guess it's an open book to me, and its pages ain't
+Hebrew either. Say, Bill, there's been many a good prairie man looking
+for this path, but"--with a slight accent of exultation--"they've never
+found it. Come on. Old Nigger knows it; many a time has he trodden its
+soft and shaking surface. Good old horse!" and she patted the black neck
+of her charger as she turned his head towards the distant hills and
+urged him forward with a "chirrup."
+
+Far across the muskeg the distant peaks of the mountain range glistened
+in the afternoon sun like diamond-studded sugar loaves. So high were the
+clouds that every portion of the mighty summits was clearly outlined.
+The great ramparts of the prairie are a magnificent sight on a clear
+day. Flat and smooth as any billiard-table stretched this silent,
+mysterious muskeg, already green and fair to the eye, an alluring
+pasture to the unwary. An experienced eye might have judged it too
+green--too alluring. Could a more perfect trap be devised by evil human
+ingenuity than this? Think for one instant of a bottomless pit of liquid
+soil, absorbing in its peculiar density. Think of all the horrors of a
+quicksand, which, embracing, sucks down into its cruel bosom the
+despairing victim of its insatiable greed. Think of a thin, solid crust,
+spread like icing upon a cake and concealing the soft, spongy matter
+beneath, covering every portion of the cruel plain; a crust which yields
+a crop of luxurious, enticing grass of the most perfect emerald hue; a
+crust firm in itself and dry looking, and yet not strong enough to bear
+the weight of a good-sized terrier. And what imagination can possibly
+conceive a more cruel--more perfect trap for man or beast? Woe to the
+creature which trusts its weight upon that treacherous crust. For one
+fleeting instant it will sway beneath the tread, then, in the flash of a
+thought, it will break, and once the surface gives no human power can
+save the victim. Down, down into the depths must the poor wretch be
+plunged, with scarce time to offer a prayer to God for the poor soul
+which so swiftly passes to its doom. Such is the muskeg; and surely more
+terrible is it than is that horror of the navigator--the quicksands.
+
+The girl led the way without as much as a passing thought for the
+dangers which surrounded her. Truly had her companion said "I don't see
+the path," for no path was to be seen. But Jacky had learned her lesson
+well--and learned it from one who read the prairie as the Bedouin reads
+the desert. The path was there and with a wondrous assurance she
+followed its course.
+
+The travelers moved silently along. No word was spoken; each was wrapped
+in thought. Now and again a stray prairie chicken would fly up from
+their path with a whirr, and speed across the mire, calling to its mate
+as it went. The drowsy chirrup of frogs went on unceasingly around, and
+already the ubiquitous mosquito was on the prowl for human gore.
+
+The upstanding horses now walked with down-drooped heads, with sniffing
+noses low towards the ground, ears cocked, and with alert, careful
+tread, as if fully alive to the danger of their perilous road. The
+silence of that ride teemed with a thrill of danger. Half an hour passed
+and then the girl gathered up her reins and urged her willing horse into
+a canter.
+
+"Come on, Bill, the path is more solid now, and wider. The worst part is
+on the far side," she called back over her shoulder.
+
+Her companion followed her unquestioningly.
+
+The sun was already dipping towards the distant peaks and already a
+shadowy haze was rising upon the eastern prairie. The chill of winter
+grew keener as the sun slowly sank.
+
+Two-thirds of the journey were covered and Jacky, holding up a warning
+hand, drew up her horse. Her companion came to a stand beside her.
+
+"The path divides in three here," said the girl, glancing keenly down at
+the fresh green grass. "Two of the branches are blind and end abruptly
+further on. Guess we must avoid 'em," she went on shortly, "unless we
+are anxious to punctuate our earthly career. This is the one we must
+take," turning her horse to the left path. "Keep your eye peeled and
+stick to Nigger's footprints."
+
+The man did as he was bid, marvelling the while at the strange knowledge
+of his companion. He had no fear; he only wondered. The trim, graceful
+figure on the horse ahead of him occupied all his thoughts. He watched
+her as, with quiet assurance she guided her horse. He had known Jacky
+for years. He had watched her grow to womanhood, but although her
+up-bringing must of necessity have taught her an independence and
+courage given to few women, he had never dreamt of the strength of the
+sturdy nature she was now displaying. Again his thoughts went to the
+tales of the gossips of the settlement, and the strange figure of the
+daring cattle-thief loomed up over his mental horizon. He rode, and as
+he rode he wondered. The end Of this journey would be a fitting place
+for the explanations which must take place between them.
+
+At length the shaking path came to an end and the mire was crossed. A
+signal from the girl brought her companion to her side.
+
+"We have crossed it," she said, glancing up at the sun, and indicating
+the muskeg with a backward jerk of her head. "Now for the horse."
+
+"What about your promise to tell me about Peter Retief?"
+
+"Guess being the narrator you must let me take my time."
+
+She smiled up into her companion's eagle face.
+
+"The horse is a mile or so further up towards the foothills. Come
+along."
+
+They galloped side by side over the moist, springy grass--moist with the
+recently-melted snow. "Lord" Bill was content to wait her pleasure.
+Suddenly the man brought his horse up with a severe "yank."
+
+"What's up?" The girl's beautiful eyes were fixed upon the ground with a
+peculiar instinct. Bill pointed to the ground on the side furthest from
+his companion.
+
+"Look!"
+
+Jacky gazed at the spot indicated.
+
+"The tracks of the horse," she said sharply.
+
+She was on the ground in an instant and inspecting the hoof-prints
+eagerly, with that careful study acquired by experience.
+
+"Well?" said the other, as she turned back to her horse.
+
+"Recent." Then in an impressive tone which her companion failed to
+understand, "That horse has been shod. The shoes are off--all except a
+tiny bit on his off fore. We must track it."
+
+They now separated and rode keeping the hoof-prints between them. The
+marks were quite fresh and so plain in the soft ground that they were
+able to ride at a good pace. The clear-cut indentations led away from
+the mire up the gently-sloping ground. Suddenly they struck upon a path
+that was little more than a cattle-track, and instantly became mingled
+with other hoof-marks, older and going both ways. Hitherto the girl had
+ridden with her eyes closely watching the tracks, but now she suddenly
+raised her sweet, weather-tanned face to her companion, and, with a
+light of the wildest excitement in her eyes, she pointed along the path
+and set her horse at a gallop.
+
+"Come on! I know," she cried, "right on into the hills."
+
+Bill followed willingly enough, but he failed to understand his
+companion's excitement. After all they were merely bent upon "roping" a
+stray horse. The girl galloped on at breakneck speed; the heavy black
+ringlets of hair were swept like an outspread fan from under the broad
+brim of her Stetson hat, her buckskin bodice ballooning in the wind as
+rider and horse charged along, utterly indifferent to the nature of the
+country they were traveling--indifferent to everything except the mad
+pursuit of an unseen quarry. Now they were on the summit of some
+eminence whence they could see for miles the confusion of hills, like
+innumerable bee-hives set close together upon an endless plain; now
+down, tearing through a deep hollow, and racing towards another abrupt
+ascent. With every hill passed the country became less green and more
+and more rugged. "Lord" Bill struggled hard to keep the girl in view as
+she raced on--on through the labyrinth of seemingly endless hillocks.
+But at last he drew up on the summit of a high cone-like rise and
+realized that he had lost her.
+
+For a moment he gazed around with that peculiar, all-observing keenness
+which is given to those whose lives are spent in countries where human
+habitation is sparse--where the work of man is lost in the immensity of
+Nature's effort. He could see no sign of the girl. And yet he knew she
+could not be far away. His instincts told him to search for her horse
+tracks. He was sure she had passed that way. While yet he was thinking,
+she suddenly reappeared over the brow of a further hill. She halted at
+the summit, and, seeing him, waved a summons. Her gesticulations were
+excited and he hastened to obey. Down into the intervening valley his
+horse plunged with headlong recklessness. At the bottom there was a
+hard, beaten track. Almost unconsciously he allowed his beast to adopt
+it. It wound round and upwards, at the base of the hill on which Jacky
+was waiting for him. He passed the bend, then, with a desperate,
+backward heave of the body, he "yanked" his horse short up, throwing the
+eager animal on to its haunches.
+
+He had pulled up on what, at first appeared to be the brink of a
+precipice, and what in reality was a declivity, down which only the slow
+and sure foot of a steer or broncho might safely tread. He sat aghast at
+his narrow escape. Then, turning at the sound of a voice behind him, he
+found that Jacky had come down from the hill above.
+
+"See, Bill," she cried, as she drew abreast of his hard-breathing horse,
+"there he is! Down there, peacefully, grazing."
+
+Her excitement was intense, and the hand with which she pointed shook
+like an aspen. Her agitation was incomprehensible to the man. He looked
+down. Hitherto he had seen little beyond the brink at which he had come
+to such a sudden stand. But now, as he gazed down, he beheld a deep
+dark-shadowed valley, far-reaching and sombre. From their present
+position its full extent was beyond the range of vision, but sufficient
+was to be seen to realize that here was one of those vast hiding-places
+only to be found in lands where Nature's fanciful mood has induced the
+mighty upheaval of the world's greatest mountain ranges. On the far side
+of the deep, sombre vale a towering craig rose wall-like, sheer up,
+overshadowing the soft, green pasture deep down at the bottom of the
+yawning gulch. Dense patches of dark, relentless pinewoods lined its
+base, and, over all, in spite of the broad daylight, a peculiar shadow,
+as of evening, added mystery to the haunting view.
+
+It was some seconds before the man was able to distinguish the tiny
+object which had roused the girl to such unaccountable excitement. When
+he did, however, he beheld a golden chestnut horse quietly grazing as it
+made its way leisurely towards the ribbon-like stream which flowed in
+the bosom of the mysterious valley. "Lord" Bill's voice was quite
+emotionless when he spoke.
+
+"Ah, a chestnut!" he said quietly. "Well, our quest is vain. He is
+beyond our reach."
+
+For a moment the girl looked at him in indignant surprise. Then her mood
+changed and she nearly laughed outright. She had forgotten that this man
+as yet knew nothing of what had all along been in her thoughts. As yet
+he knew nothing of the secret of this hollow. To her it meant a world of
+recollection--a world of stirring adventure and awful hazard. When first
+she had seen that horse, grazing within sight of her uncle's house, her
+interest had been aroused--suspicions had been sent teeming through her
+brain. Her thoughts had flown to the man whom she had once known, and
+who was now dead. She had believed his horse had died with him. And now
+the strange apparition had yielded up its secret. The beast had been
+traced to the old, familiar haunt, and what had been only suspicion had
+suddenly become a startling reality.
+
+"Ah, I forgot," she replied, "you don't understand. That is Golden
+Eagle. Can't you see, he has the fragments of his saddle still tied
+round his body. To think of it--and after two years."
+
+Her companion still seemed dense.
+
+"Golden Eagle?" he repeated questioningly. "Golden Eagle?" The name
+seemed familiar but he failed to comprehend.
+
+"Yes, yes," the girl broke out impatiently. "Golden Eagle--Peter
+Retief's horse. The grandest beast that ever stepped the prairie. See,
+he is keeping watch over his master's old
+hiding-place--faithful--faithful to the memory of the dead."
+
+"And this is--is the haunt of Peter Retief," Bill exclaimed, his
+interest centering chiefly upon the yawning valley before him.
+
+"Yes--follow me closely, and we'll get right along down. Say, Bill, we
+must round up that animal."
+
+For a fleeting space the man looked dubious, then, with lips pursed, and
+a quiet look of resolution in his sleepy eyes, he followed in his
+companion's wake. The grandeur--the solitude--the mystery and
+associations, conveyed by the girl's words, of the place were upon him.
+These things had set him thinking.
+
+The tortuous course of that perilous descent occupied their full
+attention, but, at length, they reached the valley in safety. Now,
+indeed, was a wonderful scene disclosed. Far as the eye could reach the
+great hollow extended. Deep and narrow; deep in the heart of the hills
+which towered upon either side to heights, for the most part,
+inaccessible, precipitous. It was a wondrous gulch, hidden and
+unsuspected in the foothills, and protected by those amazing wilds, in
+which the ignorant or unwary must infallibly be lost. It was a perfect
+pasture, a perfect hiding-place, watered by a broad running stream;
+sheltered from all cold and storm. No wonder then that the celebrated
+outlaw, Peter Retief, had chosen it for his haunt and the harborage of
+his ill-gotten stock.
+
+With characteristic method the two set about "roping" the magnificent
+crested horse they had come to capture. They soon found that he was
+wild--timid as a hare. Their task looked as though it would be one of
+some difficulty.
+
+At first Golden Eagle raced recklessly from point to point. And so long
+as this lasted his would-be captors could do little but endeavor to
+"head" him from one to the other, in the hope of getting him within
+range of the rope. Then he seemed suddenly to change his mind, and, with
+a quick double, gallop towards the side of the great chasm. A cry of
+delight escaped the girl as she saw this. The horse was making for the
+mouth of a small cavern which had been boarded over, and, judging by the
+door and window in the woodwork, had evidently been used as a dwelling
+or a stable. It was the same instinct which led him to this place that
+had caused the horse to remain for two years the solitary tenant of the
+valley. The girl understood, and drew her companion's attention. The
+capture at once became easy. Keeping clear of the cave they cautiously
+herded their quarry towards it. Golden Eagle was docile enough until he
+reached the, to him, familiar door. Then, when he found that his
+pursuers still continued to press in upon him, he took alarm, and,
+throwing up his head, with a wild, defiant snort he made a bolt for the
+open.
+
+Instantly two lariats whirled through the air towards the crested neck.
+One missed its mark, but the other fell, true as a gun-shot over the
+small, thoroughbred head. It was Jacky's rope which had found its mark.
+A hitch round the horn of her saddle, and her horse threw himself back
+with her forefeet braced, and faced the captive. Then the rope tightened
+with a jerk which taxed its rawhide strands to their utmost. Instantly
+Golden Eagle, after two years' freedom, stood still; he knew that once
+more he must return to captivity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW
+
+
+Jacky held her treasure fast. The choking grip of the running noose
+quieted Golden Eagle into perfect docility. Bunning-Ford was off his
+horse in a moment. Approaching the primitive dwelling he forced open the
+crazy door. It was a patchwork affair and swung back on a pair of hinges
+which lamented loudly as the accumulation of rust were disturbed. The
+interior was essentially suggestive of the half-breed, and his guess at
+its purpose had been a shrewd one. Part storehouse for forage, part
+bedroom, and part stable, it presented a squalid appearance. The portion
+devoted to stable-room was far in the back; the curious apparatus which
+constituted the bed was placed under the window.
+
+The man propped the door open, and then went to relieve the girl from
+the strain of holding her captive. Seizing the lariat he gripped it
+tightly and proceeded to pass slowly, hand over hand, towards the
+beautiful, wild-eyed chestnut. Golden Eagle seemed to understand, for,
+presently, the tension of the rope relaxed. For a moment the animal
+looked fearfully around and snorted, then, as "Lord" Bill determinedly
+attempted to lead him, he threw himself backward. His rebellion lasted
+but for an instant, for, presently, drooping his proud head as though in
+token of submission, he followed his captor quietly into the stable
+which had always been his.
+
+The girl dismounted, and, shortly after, "Lord" Bill rejoined her.
+
+"Well?" she asked, her questioning eyes turned in the direction of the
+cave.
+
+"He's snug enough," Bill replied quietly, glancing at his watch. He
+looked up at the chilly sky, then he seated himself on the edge of a
+boulder which reposed beside the entrance to the stable. "We've just got
+two hours and a half before dark," he added slowly. "That means an hour
+in which to talk." Then he quietly prepared to roll a cigarette. "Now,
+Jacky, let's have your yarn first; after that you shall hear mine."
+
+He leisurely proceeded to pick over the tobacco before rolling it in the
+paper. He was usually particular about his smoke. He centered his
+attention upon the matter now, purposely, so as to give his companion a
+chance to tell her story freely. He anticipated that what she had to
+tell would affect her nearly. But his surmise of the direction in which
+she would be affected proved totally incorrect. Her first words told him
+this.
+
+She hesitated only for the fraction of a second, then she plunged into
+her story with a directness which was always hers.
+
+"This is Bad Man's Hollow--he--he was my half-brother."
+
+So the stories of the gossips were not true. Bill gave a comprehensive
+nod, but offered no comment. Her statement appeared to him to need none.
+It explained itself; she was speaking of Peter Retief.
+
+"Mother was a widow when she married father--widow with one son. Mother
+was a half-breed."
+
+An impressive silence ensued. For a moment a black shadow swept across
+the valley. It was a dense flight of geese winging their way back to the
+north, as the warm sun melted the snow and furnished them with
+well-watered feeding-grounds. The frogs were chirruping loudly down at
+the edge of the stream which trickled its way ever southwards. She went
+on.
+
+"Mother and Peter settled at Foss River at different times. They never
+hit it off. No one knew that there was any relationship between them up
+at the camp. Mother lived in her own shack. Peter located himself
+elsewhere. Guess it's only five years since I learned these things.
+Peter was fifteen years older than I. I take it they made him 'bad' from
+the start. Poor Peter!--still, he was my half-brother."
+
+She conveyed a world of explanation in her last sentence. There was a
+tender, far-away look in her great, sorrowful eyes as she told her jerky
+story. "Lord" Bill allowed himself a side-long glance in her direction,
+then he turned his eyes towards the south end of the valley and
+something very like a sigh escaped him. She had struck a sympathetic
+chord in his heart. He longed to comfort her.
+
+"There's no use in reckoning up Peter's acts. You know 'em as well as I
+do, Bill. He was slick--was Peter," she went on, with an inflection of
+satisfaction. She was returning to a lighter manner as she contemplated
+the cattle-thief's successes. "Cattle, mail-trains, mail-carts--nothing
+came amiss to him. In his own line Peter was a Jo-dandy." Her face
+flushed as she proceeded. The half-breed blood in her was stirred in all
+its passionate strength. "But he'd never have slipped the coyote
+sheriffs or the slick red-coats so long as he did without my help. Say,
+Bill," leaning forward eagerly and peering into his face with her
+beautiful glowing eyes, "for three years I just--just lived! Poor Peter!
+Guess I'm reckoned kind of handy 'round a bunch of steers. There aren't
+many who can hustle me. You know that. All the boys on the round-up know
+that. And why? Because I learnt the business from Peter--and Peter
+taught me to shoot quick and straight. Those three years taught me a
+deal, and I take it those things didn't happen for nothing," with a
+moody introspective gaze. "Those years taught me how to look after
+myself--and my uncle. Say, Bill, what I'm telling you may sicken you
+some. I can't help that. Peter was my brother and blood's thicker than
+water. I wasn't going to let him be hunted down by a lot of bloodthirsty
+coyotes who were no better than he. I wasn't going to let my mother's
+flesh feed the crows from the end of a lariat. I helped Peter to steer
+clear of the law--lynch at that--and if he fell at last, a victim to
+the sucking muck of the muskeg, it was God's judgment and not
+man's--that's good enough for me. I'd do it all again, I guess, if--if
+Peter were alive."
+
+"Peter had some shooting on the account against him," said Bill, without
+raising his eyes from the contemplation of his cigarette. The girl
+smiled. The smile hovered for a moment round her mouth and eyes, and
+then passed, leaving her sweet, dark face bathed in the shadow of
+regret. She understood the drift of his remark but in no way resented
+it.
+
+"No, Bill, I steered clear of that. I'd have shot to save Peter, but it
+never came to that. Whatever shooting Peter did was done on his--lonely.
+I jibbed at a frolic that meant--shooting. Peter never let me dirty my
+hands to that extent. Guess I just helped him and kept him posted. If
+I'd had law, they'd have called me accessory after the fact."
+
+"Lord" Bill pondered. His lazy eyes were half-closed. He looked
+indifferent but his thoughts were flowing fast. This girl's story had
+given a fillup to a wild plan which had almost unconsciously found place
+in his active brain. Now he raised his eyes to her face and was
+astonished at the setness of its expression. She reminded him of those
+women in history whose deeds had, at various periods, shaken the
+foundations of empires. There was a deep, smouldering fire in her eyes,
+for which only the native blood in her veins could account. Her
+beautiful face was clouded beneath a somber shadow which is so often
+accredited as a presage of tragedy. Surely her expression was one of a
+great, passionate nature, of a soul capable of a wondrous love, or a
+wondrous--hate. She had seated herself upon the ground with the careless
+abandon of one used to such a resting-place. Her trim riding-boots were
+displayed from beneath the hem of her coarse dungaree habit. Her Stetson
+hat was pushed back on her head, leaving the broad low forehead exposed.
+Her black waving hair streamed about her face, a perfect framing for
+the Van Dyke coloring of her skin. She was very beautiful.
+
+The man shifted his position.
+
+"Tell me," he went on, gazing over towards where a flock of wild ducks
+had suddenly settled upon a reedy swamp, and were noisily revelling in
+the water, "did your uncle know anything about this?"
+
+"Not a soul on God's earth knew. Did you ever suspect anything?"
+
+Bill shook his head.
+
+"Not a thing. I was as well posted on the subject of Peter as any one.
+Sometimes I thought it curious that old John's stock and my own were
+never interfered with. But I had no suspicion of the truth. Peter's
+relationship to your mother--did the Breeds in the settlement know
+anything of it?"
+
+"No--I alone knew."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The girl looked curiously into her companion's face. The tone of his
+exclamation startled her. She wondered towards what end his questions
+were leading. His face was inscrutable; she gained no inspiration from
+it. There was a short pause. She wondered anxiously how her story had
+affected him in regard to herself. After all, she was only a woman--a
+woman of strong affections and deep feelings. Her hardihood, her mannish
+self-reliance, were but outer coverings, the result of the surroundings
+of her daily life. She feared lest he should turn from her in utter
+loathing.
+
+The Hon. Bunning-Ford had no such thoughts, however. Twenty-four hours
+ago her story might have startled him. But now it was different. His was
+as wild and reckless a nature as her own. Law and order were matters
+which he regarded in the light of personal inclinations. He had seen too
+much of the early life on the prairie to be horrified by the part this
+courageous girl had taken in her blood-relative's interests. Under other
+circumstances "Lord" Bill might well have developed into a "bad man"
+himself. As it was, his sympathies were always with those whose daring
+led them into ways of danger and risk of personal safety.
+
+"How far does this valley extend?" he asked abruptly, stepping over as
+though to obtain a view of the southern extremity of the mysterious
+hollow.
+
+"Guess we reckoned it 300 miles. Dead straight into the heart of the
+mountains, then out again sharply into the foot-hills thirty miles south
+of the border. It comes to an end in Montana."
+
+"And Peter disposed of his stock that way--all by himself?" he asked,
+returning to his seat upon the boulder.
+
+"All by himself," the girl repeated, again wondering at the drift of his
+questions. "My help only extended as far as this place. Peter used to
+fatten his stock right here and then run them down into Montana. Down
+there no one knew where he came from, and so wonderfully is this place
+hidden that he was never traced. There is only one approach to it, and
+that's across the keg. In winter that can be crossed anywhere, but no
+sane persons would trust themselves in the foothills at that time of
+year. For the rest it can only be crossed by the secret path. This
+valley is a perfectly-hidden natural road for illicit traffic."
+
+"Wonderful." The man permitted a smile to spread over his thin, eagle
+face. "Peter's supposed to have made a pile of money."
+
+"Yes, I guess Peter sunk a pile of dollars. He hid his bills right here
+in the valley," Jacky replied, smiling back into the indolent face
+before her. Then her face became serious again. "The secret of its
+hiding-place died with him--it's buried deep down in the reeking keg."
+
+"And you're sure he died in the 'reeking keg'?" There was a sharp
+intonation in the question. The matter seemed to be of importance in the
+story.
+
+Jacky half started at the eagerness with which the question was put. She
+paused for an instant before replying.
+
+"I believe he died there," she said at length, like one weighing her
+words well, "but it was never clearly proved. Most people think that he
+simply cleared out of the country. I picked up his hat close beside the
+path, and the crust of the keg had been broken. Yes, I believe he died
+in the muskeg. Had he lived I should have known."
+
+"But how comes it that Golden Eagle is still alive? Surely Peter would
+never have crossed the keg on foot"
+
+The girl looked perplexed for a moment. But her conviction was plainly
+evident.
+
+"No--he wouldn't have walked. Peter drank some."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Once I saved him from taking the wrong track at the point where the
+path forks. He'd been drinking then. Yes," with a quiet assurance, "I
+think he died in the keg."
+
+Her companion seemed to have come to the end of his cross-examination.
+He suddenly rose from his seat. The chattering of the ducks in the
+distance caused him to turn his head. Then he turned again to the girl
+before him. The indolence had gone from his eyes. His face was set, and
+the firm pursing of his lips spoke of a determination arrived at. He
+gazed down at the recumbent figure upon the ground. There was something
+in his gaze which made the girl lower her eyes and look far out down the
+valley.
+
+"This brother of yours--he was tall and thin?"
+
+The girl nodded.
+
+"Am I right in my recollection of him when I say that he was possessed
+of a dark, dark face, lantern jaws, thin--and high, prominent
+cheek-bones?"
+
+"That's so."
+
+She faced him inquiringly as she answered his eager questions.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+He quickly turned again in the direction of the noisy water-fowl. Their
+rollicking gambols sounded joyously on the brooding atmosphere of the
+place. The wintry chill in the air was fast ousting the balmy breath of
+spring. It was a warning of the lateness of the hour.
+
+"Now listen to me," he went on presently, turning again from the
+contemplation of his weird surroundings. "I lost all that was left to me
+from the wreck of my little ranch this afternoon--no, not to Lablache,"
+as the girl was about to pronounce the hated name, "but," with a wintry
+smile, "to another friend of yours, Pedro Mancha. I also discovered,
+this afternoon, the source of Lablache's phenomenal--luck. He has
+systematically robbed both your uncle and myself--" He broke off with a
+bitter laugh.
+
+"My God!"
+
+The girl had sprung to her feet in her agitation. And a rage
+indescribable flamed into her face. The fury there expressed appalled
+him, and he stood for a moment waiting for it to abate. What terrible
+depths had he delved into? The hidden fires of a passionate nature are
+more easily kept under than checked in their blasting career when once
+the restraining will power is removed. For an instant it seemed that she
+must choke. Then she hurled her feelings into one brief, hissing
+sentence.
+
+"Lablache--I hate him!"
+
+And the man realized that he must continue his story.
+
+"Yes, we lost our money not fairly, but by--cheating. I am ruined, and
+your uncle--" Bill shrugged.
+
+"My uncle--God help him!"
+
+"I do not know the full extent of his losses, Jacky--except that they
+have probably trebled mine."
+
+"But I know to what extent the hound has robbed him," Jacky answered in
+a tone of such bitter hatred as to cause her companion to glance
+uneasily at the passionate young face before him. "I know, only too
+well. And right thoroughly has Lablache done his work. Say, Bill, do you
+know that that skunk holds mortgages on our ranch for two hundred
+thousand dollars? And every bill of it is for poker. For twenty years,
+right through, he has steadily sucked the old man's blood. Slick? Say a
+six-year-old steer don't know more about a branding-iron than does
+Verner Lablache about his business. For every dollar uncle's lost he's
+made him sign a mortgage. Every bit of paper has the old man had to
+redeem in that way. What he's done lately--I mean uncle--I can't say.
+But Lablache held those mortgages nearly a year ago."
+
+"Whew--" "Lord" Bill whistled under his breath. "Gee-whittaker. It's
+worse than I thought. 'Poker' John's losses during the last winter, to
+my knowledge, must have amounted to nearly six figures--the devil!"
+
+"Ruin, ruin, ruin!"
+
+The girl for a moment allowed womanly feeling to overcome her, for, as
+her companion added his last item to the vast sum which she had quoted,
+she saw, in all its horrible nakedness, the truth of her uncle's
+position. Then she suddenly forced back the tears which had struggled
+into her eyes, and, with indomitable courage, faced the catastrophe.
+
+"But can't we fight him--can't we give him--"
+
+"Law? I'm afraid not," Bill interrupted. "Once a mortgage is signed the
+debt is no longer a gambling debt. Law is of no use to us, especially
+here on the prairie. There is only one law which can save us. Lablache
+must disgorge."
+
+"Yes--yes! For every dollar he has stolen let him pay ten."
+
+The passionate fire in her eyes burned more steadily now. It was the
+fire which is unquenchable--the fire of a lasting hate, vengeful,
+terrible. Then her tone dropped to a contemplative soliloquy.
+
+"But how?" she murmured, looking away towards the stream in the heart of
+the valley, as though in search of inspiration.
+
+Bunning-Ford smiled as he heard the half-whispered question. But his
+smile was not pleasant to look upon. All the latent recklessness which
+might have made of him a good soldier or a great scoundrel was roused in
+him. He was passing the boundary which divides the old Adam, which is in
+every man, from the veneer of early training. He was
+mutely--unconsciously--calling to his aid the savage instincts which the
+best of men are not without. His face expressed something of what was
+passing within his active brain, and the girl before him, as she turned
+and watched the working features, usually so placid--indifferent, knew
+that she was to see a side of his character always suspected by her but
+never before made apparent. His thoughts at last found vent in words of
+almost painful intensity.
+
+"How?" he said, repeating the question as though it had been addressed
+to himself. "He shall pay--pay! Everlastingly pay! So long as I have
+life--and liberty, he shall pay!"
+
+Then as if anticipating a request for explanation he told her the means
+by which Lablache had consistently cheated. The girl listened,
+speechless with amazement. She hung upon his every word. At the
+conclusion of his story she put an abrupt question.
+
+"And you gave no sign? He doesn't suspect that you know?"
+
+"He suspects nothing."
+
+"Good. You are real smart, Bill. Yes, shooting's no good. This is no
+case for shooting. What do you propose? I see you mean business."
+
+The man was still smiling but his smile had suddenly changed to one of
+kindly humor.
+
+"First of all Jacky," he said, taking a step towards her, "I can do
+nothing without your help. I propose that you share this task with me.
+No, no, I don't mean in that way," as she commenced to assure him of her
+assistance. "What I mean is that--that I love you, dear. I want you to
+give me the right to protect--your uncle."
+
+He finished up with his hands stretched out towards her. Golden Eagle
+stirred in his stable, and the two heard him whinny as if in approval.
+Then as the girl made no answer Bill went on: "Jacky, I am a ruined man.
+I have nothing, but I love you better than life itself. We now have a
+common purpose in life. Let us work together."
+
+His voice sank to a tender whisper. He loved this motherless girl who
+was fighting the battle of life single-handed against overwhelming
+odds, with all the strength of his nature. He had loved her ever since
+she had reached woman's estate. In asking for a return of his affections
+now he fully realized the cruelty of his course. He knew that the
+future--his future--was to be given up to the pursuit of a terrible
+revenge. And he knew that, in linking herself with him, she would
+perforce be dragged into whatever wrong-doing his contemplated revenge
+might lead him. And yet he dared not pause. It all seemed so plain--so
+natural--that they should journey through the crooked, paths of the
+future together. Was she not equally determined upon a terrible revenge?
+
+He waited in patience for his answer. Suddenly she looked up into his
+face and gently placed her hands in his. Her answer came with simple
+directness.
+
+"Do you really, Bill? I am glad--yes, glad right through. I love you,
+too. Say, you're sure you don't think badly of me because--because I'm
+Peter's sister?"
+
+There was a smiling, half-tearful look in her eyes--those expressive
+eyes which, but a moment before, had burnt with a vengeful fire--as she
+asked the question. After all her nature was wondrously simple.
+
+"Why should I, dear?" he replied, bending and kissing the gauntleted
+hands which rested so lovingly in his. "My life has scarcely been a
+Garden of Eden before the Fall. And I don't suppose my future, even
+should I escape the laws of man, is likely to be most creditable. Your
+past is your own--I have no right nor wish to criticise. Henceforth we
+are united in a common cause. Our hand is turned against one whose power
+in this part of the country is almost absolute. When we have wrested his
+property from him, to the uttermost farthing, we will cry quits--"
+
+"And on the day that sees Lablache's downfall, Bill, I will become your
+wife."
+
+There was a pause. Then Bill drew her towards him and they sealed the
+compact with one long embrace. They were roused to the matters of the
+moment by another whinny from Golden Eagle, who was chafing at his
+forced imprisonment.
+
+The two stood back from one another, hand in hand, and smiled as they
+listened to the tuneful plaint. Then the man unfolded a wonderful plan
+to this girl whom he loved. Her willing ears drank in the details like
+one whose heart is set with a great purpose. They also talked of their
+love in their own practical way. There was little display of sentiment.
+They understood without that. Their future was not alluring, unless
+something of the man's strange plan appealed to the wild nature of the
+prairie which, by association, has somehow become affiliated with
+theirs. In that quiet, evening-lit valley these two people arranged to
+set aside the laws of man and deal out justice as they understood it. An
+eye for an eye--a tooth for a tooth; fortune favoring, a cent, per cent,
+interest in each case. The laws of the prairie, in those days always
+uncertain, were more often governed by human passions than the calm
+equity of unbiased jurymen. And who shall say that their idea of justice
+was wrong? Two "wrongs," it has been said, do not make one "right." But
+surely it is not a human policy when smote upon one cheek to turn the
+other for a similar chastisement.
+
+"Then we leave Golden Eagle where he is," said Jacky, as she remounted
+her horse and they prepared to return home.
+
+"Yes. I will see to him," Bill replied, urging his horse into a canter
+towards the winding ascent which was to take them home.
+
+The ducks frolicking in their watery playground chattered and flapped
+their heavy wings. The frogs in their reedy beds croaked and chirruped
+without ceasing. And who shall say how much they had heard, or had seen,
+or knew of that compact sealed in Bad Man's Hollow?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+LABLACHE'S "COUP"
+
+
+Lablache was seated in a comfortable basket chair in his little back
+office. He preferred a basket chair--he knew its value. He had tried
+other chairs of a less yielding nature, but they were useless to support
+his weight; he had broken too many, and they were expensive--there is
+nothing more durable than a strong basket chair. Lablache appreciated
+strength combined with durability, especially when the initial outlay
+was reduced to a minimum.
+
+His slippered feet were posted on the lower part of the self-feeding
+stove and he gazed down, deep in thought, at the lurid glow of the fire
+shining through the mica sides of the firebox.
+
+A clock was ticking away with that peculiar, vibrating aggressiveness
+which characterizes the cheap American "alarm." The bare wood of the
+desk aggravated the sound, and, in the stillness of the little room, the
+noise pounded exasperatingly on the ear-drums. From time to time he
+turned his great head, and his lashless eyes peered over at the paper
+dial of the clock. Once or twice he stirred with a suggestion of
+impatience. At times his heavy breathing became louder and shorter, and
+he seemed about to give expression to some irritable thought.
+
+At last his bulk heaved and he removed his feet from the stove. Then he
+slowly raised himself from the depths of the yielding chair. His
+slippered feet shuffled over the floor as he moved towards the window.
+The blind was down, but he drew it aside and wiped the steam from the
+glass pane with his soft, fat hand. The night was black--he could see
+nothing of the outside world. It was nearly an hour since he had left
+the saloon where he had been playing poker with John Allandale. He
+appeared to be waiting for some one, and he wanted to go to bed.
+
+Once more he returned to his complaining chair and lowered himself into
+it. The minutes slipped by. Lablache did not want to smoke; he felt that
+he must do something to soothe his impatience, so he chewed at the
+quicks of his finger-nails.
+
+Presently there came a tap at the window. The money-lender ponderously
+rose, and, cautiously opening the door, admitted the dark, unkempt form
+of Pedro Mancha. There was no greeting; neither spoke until Lablache had
+again secured the door. Then the money-lender turned his fishy eyes and
+mask-like face to the newcomer. He did not suggest that his visitor
+should sit down. He merely looked with his cold, cruel eyes, and spoke.
+
+"Well?--been drinking."
+
+The latter part of his remark was an assertion. He knew the Mexican
+well. The fellow had an expressive countenance, unlike most of his race,
+and the least sign of drink was painfully apparent upon it. The man was
+not drunk but his wild eyes testified to his recent libations.
+
+"Guess you've hit it right thar," he retorted indifferently.
+
+It was noticeable that this man had adopted the high-pitched, keen tone
+and pronounced accent of the typical "South-Westerner." In truth he was
+a border Mexican; a type of man closely allied to the "greaser." He was
+a perfect scoundrel, who had doubtless departed from his native land for
+the benefit of that fair but swarming hornet's nest.
+
+"It's a pity when you have business on hand you can't leave that 'stuff'
+alone."
+
+Lablache made no effort to conceal his contempt. He even allowed his
+mask-like face to emphasize his words.
+
+"You're almighty pertickler, mister. You ask for dirty work to be done,
+an' when that dirty work's done, gorl-darn-it you croak like a
+flannel-mouthed temperance lecturer. Guess I came hyar to talk straight
+biz. Jest leave the temperance track, an' hit the main trail."
+
+Pedro's face was not pretty to look upon. The ring of white round the
+pupils of his eyes gave an impression of insanity or animal ferocity.
+The latter was his chief characteristic. His face was thin and scored
+with scars, mainly long and narrow. These, in a measure, testified to
+his past. His mouth, half hidden beneath a straggling mustache, was his
+worst feature. One can only liken it to a blubber-lipped gash, lined
+inside with two rows of yellow fangs, all in a more or less bad state of
+decay.
+
+The two men eyed one another steadily for a moment. Lablache could in no
+way terrorize this desperado. Like all his kind this man was ready to
+sell his services to any master, provided the forthcoming price of such
+services was sufficiently exorbitant. He was equally ready to play his
+employer up should any one else offer a higher price. But Lablache, when
+dealing with such men, took no chances. He rarely employed this sort of
+man, preferring to do his own dirty work, but when he did, he knew it
+was policy to be liberal. Pedro served him well as a rule, consequently
+the Mexican was enabled to ruffle it with the best in the settlement,
+whilst people wondered where he got his money from. Somehow they never
+thought of Lablache being the source of this man's means; the
+money-lender was not fond of parting.
+
+"You are right, I am particular. When I pay for work to be done I don't
+want gassing over a bar. I know what you are when the whisky is in you."
+
+Lablache stood with his great back to the fire watching his man from
+beneath his heavy lids. Bad as he was himself the presence of this man
+filled him with loathing. Possibly deep down, somewhere in that organ he
+was pleased to consider his heart, he had a faint glimmer of respect for
+an honest man. The Mexican laughed harshly.
+
+"Guess all you know of me, mister, wouldn't make a pile o' literature.
+But say, what's the game to-night?"
+
+Lablache was gnawing his fingers.
+
+"How much did you take from the Honorable?" he asked sharply.
+
+"You told me to lift his boodle. Time was short--he wouldn't play for
+long."
+
+"I'm aware of that. How much?"
+
+Lablache's tone was abrupt and peremptory. Mancha was trying to estimate
+what he should be paid for his work.
+
+"See hyar, I guess we ain't struck no deal yet. What do you propose to
+pay me?"
+
+The Mexican was sharp but he was no match for his employer. He fancied
+he saw a good deal over this night's work.
+
+"You played on paper, I know," said the money-lender, quietly. He was
+quite unmoved by the other's display of cunning. It pleased him rather
+than otherwise. He knew he held all the cards in his hands--he generally
+did in dealing with men of this stamp. "To you, the amounts he lost are
+not worth the paper they are written on. You could never realize them.
+He couldn't meet 'em."
+
+Lablache leisurely took a pinch of snuff from his snuff-box. He coughed
+and sneezed voluminously. His indifferent coolness, his air of
+patronage, aggravated the Mexican while it alarmed him. The deal he
+anticipated began to assume lesser proportions.
+
+"Which means, I take it, you've a notion you'd like the feel of those
+same papers."
+
+Mancha had come to drive a bargain. He was aware that the I.O.U.'s he
+held would take some time to realize on, in the proper quarter, but, at
+the same time, he was quite aware of the fact that Bunning-Ford would
+ultimately meet them.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders with apparent indifference--he meant to
+have them.
+
+"What do you want for the debts? I am prepared to buy--at a reasonable
+figure."
+
+The Mexican propped himself comfortably upon the corner of the desk.
+
+"Say, guess we're talkin' biz, now. His 'lordship' is due to ante up the
+trifle of seven thousand dollars--"
+
+The fellow was rummaging in an inside pocket for the slips of paper. His
+eyes never left his companion's face. The amount startled Lablache, but
+he did not move a muscle.
+
+"You did your work well, Pedro," he said, allowing himself, for the
+first time in this conversation, to recognize that the Mexican had a
+name. He warmed towards a man who was capable of doing another down for
+such a sum in such a short space of time. "I'll treat you well. Two
+thousand spot cash, and you hand over the I.O.U.'s. What say? Is it a
+go?"
+
+"Be damned to you. Two thousand for a certain seven? Not me. Say, what
+d'ye do with the skin when you eat a bananny? Sole your boots with it?
+Gee-whiz! You do fling your bills around."
+
+The Mexican laughed derisively as he jammed the papers back into his
+pocket. But he knew that he would have to sell at the other's price.
+
+Lablache moved heavily towards his desk. Selecting a book he opened it
+at a certain page.
+
+"You can keep them if you like. But you may as well understand your
+position. What's Bunning-Ford worth? What's his ranch worth?"
+
+The other suggested a figure much below the real value.
+
+"It's worth more than that. Fifty thousand if it's worth a cent,"
+Lablache said expansively. "I don't want to do you, my friend, but as
+you said we're talking business now. Here is his account with me, you
+see," pointing to the entries. "I hold thirty-five thousand on first
+mortgage and twenty thousand on bill of sale. In all fifty-five
+thousand, and his interest twelve months in arrears. Now, you refuse to
+part with those papers at my price, and I'll sell him up. You will then
+get not one cent of your money."
+
+The money-lender permitted himself to smile a grim, cold smile. He had
+been careful to make no mention of Bunning-Ford's further assets. He had
+quite forgotten to speak of a certain band of cattle which he knew his
+intended victim to possess. It was a well-known thing that Lablache knew
+more of the financial affairs of the people of the settlement than any
+one else; doubtless the Mexican thought only of "Lord" Bill's ranch.
+Mancha shifted his position uneasily. But there was a cunning look on
+his face as he retorted swiftly,--
+
+"You're a'mighty hasty to lay your hands on his reckoning. How's it that
+you're ready to part two thou' for 'em?"
+
+There was a moment's silence as the two men eyed each other. It seemed
+as if each were endeavoring to fathom the other's thoughts. Then the
+money-lender spoke, and his voice conveyed a concentration of hate that
+bit upon the air with an incisiveness which startled his companion.
+
+"Because I intend to crush him as I would a rattlesnake. Because I wish
+to ruin him so that he will be left in my debt. So that I can hound him
+from this place by holding that debt over his head. It is worth two
+thousand to me to possess that power. Now, will you part?"
+
+This explanation appealed to the worst side of the Mexican's nature.
+This hatred was after his own heart. Lablache was aware that such would
+be the case. That is why he made it. He was accustomed to play upon the
+feelings of people with whom he dealt--as well as their pocket. Pedro
+Mancha grinned complacently. He thought he understood his employer.
+
+"Hand over the bills. Guess I'll part. The price is slim, but it's not a
+bad deal."
+
+Lablache oozed over to the safe. He opened it, keeping one heavy eye
+upon his companion. He took no chances--he trusted no one, especially
+Pedro Mancha. Presently he returned with a roll of notes. It contained
+the exact amount. The Mexican watched him hungrily as he counted out the
+green-backed bills. His lips moistened beneath his mustache--his eyes
+looked wilder than ever. Lablache understood his customer thoroughly. A
+loaded revolver was in his own coat pocket. It is probable that the
+brown-faced desperado knew this.
+
+At last the money-lender held out the money. He held out both hands, one
+to give and the other to receive. Pedro passed him the I.O.U.'s and took
+the bills. One swift glance assured Lablache that the coveted papers
+were all there. Then he pointed to the door.
+
+"Our transaction is over. Go!"
+
+He had had enough of his companion. He had no hesitation in thus
+peremptorily dismissing him.
+
+"You're in a pesky hurry to get rid of me. See hyar, pard, you'd best be
+civil. Your dealin's ain't a sight cleaner than mine."
+
+"I'm waiting." Lablache's tone was coldly commanding. His lashless eyes
+gazed steadily into the other's face. Something the Mexican saw in them
+impelled him towards the door. He moved backwards, keeping his face
+turned towards the money-lender. At this moment Lablache was at his
+best. His was a dominating personality. There was no cowardice in his
+nature--at least no physical cowardice. Doubtless, had it come to a
+struggle where agility was required, he would have fallen an easy prey
+to his lithe companion; but with him, somehow, it never did come to a
+struggle. He had a way with him that chilled any such thought that a
+would-be assailant might have. Will and unflinching courage are splendid
+assets. And, amongst others, this man possessed both.
+
+Mancha slunk back to the door, and, fumbling at the lock, opened it and
+passed out. Lablache instantly whipped out a revolver, and, stepping
+heavily on one side, advanced to the door, paused and listened. He was
+well under cover. The door was open. He was behind it. He knew better
+than to expose himself in the light for Mancha to make a target of him
+from without. Then he kicked the door to. Making a complete circuit of
+the walls of the office he came to the opposite side of the door, where
+he swiftly locked and bolted it. Then he drew an iron shutter across the
+light panelling and secured it.
+
+"Good," he muttered, as, sucking in a heavy breath, he returned to the
+stove and turned his back to it. "It's as well to understand Mexican
+nature."
+
+Then he lounged into his basket chair and rubbed his fleshy hands
+reflectively. There was a triumphant look upon his repulsive features.
+
+"Quite right, friend Pedro, it's not a bad deal," he said to himself,
+blinking at the red light of the fire. "Not half bad. Seven thousand
+dollars for two thousand dollars, and every cent of it realizable." He
+shook with inward mirth. "The Hon. William Bunning-Ford will now have to
+disgorge every stick of his estate. Good, good!"
+
+Then he relapsed into deep thought. Presently he roused himself from his
+reverie and prepared for bed.
+
+"But I'll give him a chance. Yes, I'll give him a chance," he muttered,
+as, after undergoing the simple operation of removing his coat, he
+stretched himself upon his bed and drew the blankets about him. "If
+he'll consent to renounce any claim, fancied or otherwise, he may have
+to Joaquina Allandale's regard I'll refrain from selling him up. Yes,
+Verner Lablache will forego his money--for a time."
+
+The great bed shook as the monumental money-lender suppressed a chuckle.
+Then he turned over, and his stertorous inhalations soon suggested that
+the great man slept.
+
+Shylock, the Jew, determined on having his pound of flesh. But a woman
+outwitted him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"AUNT" MARGARET REFLECTS
+
+
+It was almost dark when Jacky returned to the ranch. She had left "Lord"
+Bill at the brink of the great keg, whence he had returned to his own
+place. Her first thought, on entering the house, was for the letter
+which she had left for her uncle. It was gone. She glanced round the
+room uncertainly. Then she stood gazing into the stove, while she idly
+drummed with her gauntleted fingers upon the back of a chair. She had as
+yet removed neither her Stetson hat nor her gauntlets.
+
+Her strong, dark face was unusually varying in its expression. Possibly
+her thoughts were thus indexed. Now, as she stood watching the play of
+the fire, her great, deep eyes would darken with a grave, almost anxious
+expression; again they would smile with a world of untold happiness in
+their depths. Again they would change, in a flash, to a hard, cold gleam
+of hatred and unyielding purpose; then slowly, a tender expression, such
+as that of a mother for Her new-born babe, would creep into them and
+shine down into the depths of the fire with a world of sweet sympathy.
+But through all there was a tight compression of the lips, which spoke
+of the earnest purpose which governed her thoughts; a slight pucker of
+the brows, which surely told of a great concentration of mind.
+
+Presently she roused herself, and, walking to where a table-bell stood,
+rang sharply upon it. Her summons was almost immediately answered by the
+entry of a servant.
+
+Jacky turned as the door opened, and fired an abrupt question.
+
+"Has Uncle John been in, Mamie?"
+
+The girl's face had resumed its usual strong, kindly expression.
+Whatever was hidden behind that calm exterior, she had no intention of
+giving a chance observer any clew to it.
+
+"No, miss," the servant replied, in that awestruck tone which domestics
+are apt to use when sharply interrogated. She was an intelligent-looking
+girl. Her dark skin and coarse black hair pronounced her a half-breed.
+Her mistress had said "blood is thicker than water." All the domestics
+under Jacky's charge hailed from the half-breed camp.
+
+"Was my message delivered to him?"
+
+Unconcernedly as she spoke she waited with some anxiety for the answer.
+
+"Oh, yes, miss. Silas delivered it himself. The master was in company
+with Mr. Lablache and the doctor, miss," added the girl, discreetly.
+
+"And what did he say?"
+
+"He sent Silas for the letter, miss."
+
+"He didn't say what time he would return, I suppose?"
+
+"No, miss--" She hesitated and fumbled at the door handle.
+
+"Well?" as the girl showed by her attitude that there was something she
+had left unsaid.
+
+Jacky's question rang acutely in the quiet room.
+
+"Silas--" began the girl, with a deprecating air of unbelief--"you know
+what strange notions he takes--he said--"
+
+The girl stopped in confusion under the steady gaze of her mistress.
+
+"Speak up, girl," exclaimed Jacky, impatiently. "What is it?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, miss," the girl blurted out desperately. "Only Silas said
+as the master didn't seem well like."
+
+"Ah! That will do." Then, as the girl still stood at the door, "You can
+go."
+
+The dismissal was peremptory, and the half-breed had no choice but to
+depart. She had hoped to have heard something interesting, but her
+mistress was never given to being communicative with servants.
+
+When the door had closed behind the half-breed Jacky turned again
+towards the stove. Again she was plunged in deep thought. This time
+there could be no mistake as to its tenor. Her heart was racked with an
+anxiety which was not altogether new to it. The sweet face was pale and
+her eyelids flickered ominously. The servant's veiled meaning was quite
+plain to her. Brave, hardy as this girl of the prairie was, the fear
+that was ever in her heart had suddenly assumed the proportions of a
+crushing reality. She loved her uncle with an affection that was almost
+maternal. It was the love of a strong, resolute nature for one of a
+kindly but weak disposition. She loved the gray-headed old man, whose
+affection had made her life one long, long day of happiness, with a
+tenderness which no recently-acquired faults of his could alienate.
+He--and now another--was her world. A world in which it was her joy to
+dwell. And now--now; what of the present? Racked by losses brought about
+through the agency of his all-absorbing passion, the weak old man was
+slowly but surely taking to drowning his consciousness of the appalling
+calamity which he had consistently set to work to bring about, and which
+in his lucid moments he saw looming heavily over his house, in drink.
+She had watched him with the never-failing eye of love, and had seen, to
+her horror, the signs she so dreaded. She could face disaster stoically,
+she could face danger unflinchingly, but this moral wrecking of the old
+man, who had been more to her than a father, was more than she could
+bear. Two great tears welled up into her beautiful, somber eyes and
+slowly rolled down her cheeks. She bowed like a willow bending to the
+force of the storm.
+
+Her weakness was only momentary, however; her courage, bred from the
+wildness of her life surroundings, rose superior to her feminine
+weakness. She dashed her gloved hands across her eyes and wiped the
+tears away. She felt that she must be doing--not weeping. Had not she
+sealed a solemn compact with her lover? She must to work without delay.
+
+She glanced round the room. Her gaze was that of one who wishes to
+reassure herself. It was as if the old life had gone from her and she
+was about to embark on a career new--foreign to her. A career in which
+she could see no future--only the present. She felt like one taking a
+long farewell to a life which had been fraught with nothing but delight.
+The expression of her face told of the pain of the parting. With a heavy
+sigh she passed out of the room--out into the chill night air, where
+even the welcome sounds of the croaking frogs and the lowing cattle were
+not. Where nothing was to cheer her for the work which in the future
+must be hers. Something of that solemn night entered her soul. The gloom
+of disaster was upon her.
+
+It was only a short distance to Dr. Abbot's house. The darkness of the
+night was no hindrance to the girl. Hither she made her way with the
+light, springing step of one whose mind is made up to a definite
+purpose.
+
+She found Mrs. Abbot in. The little sitting-room in the doctor's house
+was delightfully homelike and comfortable. There was nothing pretentious
+about it--just solid comfort. And the great radiating stove in the
+center of it smelt invitingly warm to the girl as she came in out of the
+raw night air. Mrs. Abbot was alternating between a basket of sewing and
+a well-worn, cheap-edition novel. The old lady was waiting with
+patience, the outcome of experience, for the return of her lord to his
+supper.
+
+"Well, 'Aunt' Margaret," said Jacky, entering with the confidence of an
+assured welcome, "I've come over for a good gossip. There's nobody at
+home--up there," with a nod in the direction of the ranch.
+
+"My dear child, I'm so pleased," exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, coming forward
+from her rather rigid seat, and kissing the girl on both cheeks with
+old-fashioned cordiality. "Come and sit by the stove--yes, take that
+hideous hat off, which, by the way, I never could understand your
+wearing. Now, when John and I were first en--"
+
+"Yes, yes, dear. I know what you're going to say," interrupted the girl,
+smiling in spite of the dull aching at her heart. She knew how this
+sweet old lady lived in the past, and she also knew how, to a
+sympathetic ear, she loved to pour out the delights of memory from a
+heart overflowing with a strong affection for the man of her choice.
+Jacky had come here to talk of other matters, and she knew that when
+"Aunt" Margaret liked she could be very shrewd and practical.
+
+Something in the half-wistful smile of her companion brought the old
+lady quickly back from the realms of recollection, and a pair of keen,
+kindly eyes met the steady gray-black orbs of the girl.
+
+"Ah, Jacky, my child, we of the frivolous sex are always being forced
+into considering the mundane matters of everyday life here at Foss
+River. What is it, dear? I can see by your face that you are worrying
+over something."
+
+The girl threw herself into an easy chair, drawn up to the glowing stove
+with careful forethought by the old lady. Mrs. Abbot reseated herself in
+the straight-backed chair she usually affected. She carefully put her
+book on one side and took up some darning, assiduously inserting the
+needle but without further attempt at work. It was something to fix her
+attention on whilst talking. Old Mrs. Abbot always liked to be able to
+occupy her hands when talking seriously. And Jacky's face told her that
+this was a moment for serious conversation.
+
+"Where's the Doc?" the girl asked without preamble. She knew, of course,
+but she used the question by way of making a beginning.
+
+The old lady imperceptibly straightened her back. She now anticipated
+the reason of her companion's coming. She glanced over the top of a pair
+of gold _pince-nez_, which she had just settled comfortably upon the
+bridge of her pretty, broad nose.
+
+"He's down at the saloon playing poker. Why, dear?"
+
+Her question was so innocent, but Jacky was not for a moment deceived by
+its tone. The girl smiled plaintively into the fire. There was no
+necessity for her to disguise her feelings before "Aunt" Margaret, she
+knew. But her loyal nature shrank from flaunting her uncle's weaknesses
+before even this kindly soul. She kept her fencing attitude a little
+longer, however.
+
+"Who is he playing with?" Jacky raised a pair of inquiring gray eyes to
+her companion's face.
+
+"Your uncle and--Lablache."
+
+The shrewd old eyes watched the girl's face keenly. But Jacky gave no
+sign.
+
+"Will you send for him, 'Aunt' Margaret?" said the girl, quietly.
+"Without letting him know that I am here," she added, as an
+afterthought.
+
+"Certainly, dear," the old lady replied, rising with alacrity. "Just
+wait a moment while I send word. Keewis hasn't gone to his teepee yet. I
+set him to clean some knives just now. He can go. These Indians are
+better messengers than they are domestics." Mrs. Abbot bustled out of
+the room.
+
+She returned a moment later, and, drawing her chair beside that of the
+girl, seated herself and rested one soft white hand on those of her
+companion, which were reposing clasped in the lap of her dungaree skirt.
+
+"Now, tell me, dear--tell me all about it--I know, it is your uncle."
+
+The sympathy of her tone could never have been conveyed in mere words.
+This woman's heart expressed its kindliness in voice and eyes. There was
+no resisting her, and Jacky made no effort to do so.
+
+For one instant there flashed into the girl's face a look of utter
+distress. She had come purposely to talk plainly to the woman whom she
+had lovingly dubbed "Aunt Margaret," but she found it very hard when it
+came to the point, She cast about in her mind for a beginning, then
+abandoned the quest and blurted out lamely the very thing from which she
+most shrank.
+
+"Say, auntie, you've observed uncle lately--I mean how strange he is?
+You've noticed how often, now, he is--is not himself?"
+
+"Whisky," said the old lady, uncompromisingly. "Yes, dear, I have. It is
+quite the usual thing to smell' old man Smith's vile liquor when John
+Allandale is about. I'm glad you've spoken. I did not like to say
+anything to you about it. John's on a bad trail."
+
+"Yes, and a trail with a long, downhill gradient," replied Jacky, with a
+rueful little smile. "Say, aunt," she went on, springing suddenly to her
+feet and confronting the old lady's mildly-astonished gaze, "isn't there
+anything we can do to stop him? What is it? This poker and whisky are
+ruining him body and soul. Is the whisky the result of his losses? Or is
+the madness for a gamble the result of the liquor?"
+
+"Neither the one--nor the other, my dear. It is--Lablache."
+
+The older woman bent over her darning, and the needle passed, rippling,
+round a "potato" in the sock which was in her lap. Her eyes were
+studiously fixed upon the work.
+
+"Lablache--Lablache! It is always Lablache, whichever way I turn.
+Gee--but the whole country reeks of him. I tell you right here, aunt,
+that man's worse than scurvy in our ranching world. Everybody and
+everything in Foss River seems to be in his grip."
+
+"Excepting a certain young woman who refuses to be ensnared."
+
+The words were spoken quite casually. But Jacky started. Their meaning
+was driven straight home. She looked down upon the bent, gray head as if
+trying to penetrate to the thought that was passing within. There was a
+moment's impressive silence. The clock ticked loudly in the silence of
+the room. A light wind was whistling rather shrilly outside, round the
+angles of the house.
+
+"Go on, auntie," said the girl, slowly. "You haven't said enough--yet. I
+guess you're thinking mighty--deeply."
+
+Mrs. Abbot looked up from her work. She was smiling, but behind that
+smile there was a strange gravity in the expression of her eyes.
+
+"There is nothing more to say at present." Then she added, in a tone
+from which all seriousness had vanished, "Hasn't Lablache ever asked you
+to marry him?"
+
+A light was beginning to dawn upon the girl.
+
+"Yes--why?"
+
+"I thought so." It was now Mrs. Abbot's turn to rise and confront her
+companion. And she did so with the calm manner of one who is assured
+that what she is about to say cannot be refuted. Her kindly face had
+lost nothing of its sweet expression, only there was something in it
+which seemed to be asking a mute question, whilst her words conveyed the
+statement of a case as she knew it. "You dear, foolish people. Can you
+not see what is going on before your very eyes, or must a stupid old
+woman like myself explain what is patent to the veriest fool in the
+settlement? Lablache is the source of your uncle's trouble, and,
+incidentally, you are the incentive. I have watched--I have little else
+to do in Foss River--you all for years past, and there is little that I
+could not tell you about any of you, as far as the world sees you.
+Lablache has been a source of a world of thought to me. The business
+side of him is patent to everybody. He is hard, flinty, tyrannical--even
+unscrupulous. I am telling you nothing new, I know. But there is another
+side to his character which some of you seem to ignore. He is capable of
+strong passions--ay, very strong passions. He has conceived a passion
+for you. I will call it by no other name in such an unholy brute as
+Lablache. He wishes to marry _you--he means to marry you_."
+
+The silver-haired old lady had worked herself up to an unusual
+vehemence. She paused after accentuating her last words. Jacky, taking
+advantage of the break, dropped in a question.
+
+"But--how does this affect my uncle?"
+
+"Aunt" Margaret sniffed disdainfully and resettled the glasses which, in
+the agitation of the moment, had slipped from her nose.
+
+"Of course it affects your uncle," she continued more quietly. "Now
+listen and I will explain." Once more these two seated themselves and
+"Aunt" Margaret again plunged into her story.
+
+"Sometimes I catch myself speculating as to how it comes about that you
+have inspired this passion in such a man as Lablache," she began,
+glancing into the somberly beautiful face beside her. "I should have
+expected that mass of flesh and money--he always reminds me of a
+jelly-fish, my dear--ugh!--to have wished to take to himself one of your
+gaudy butterflies from New York or London for a wife; not a simple child
+of the prairie who is more than half a wild--wild savage." She smiled
+lovingly into the girl's face. "You see these coarse money-grubbers
+always prefer their pills well gilded, and, as a rule, their matrimonial
+pills need a lot of gilding to bring them up to the standard of what
+they think a wife should be. However, it was not long before it became
+plain to me that he wished to marry you. He may be a master of finance;
+he may disguise his feelings--if he has any--in business, so that the
+shrewdest observer can discover no vulnerable point in his armor of
+dissimulation. But when it comes to matters pertaining
+to--to--love--quite the wrong word in his case, my dear--these men are
+as babes; worse, they are fools. When Lablache makes up his mind to a
+purpose he generally accomplishes his end--"
+
+"In business," suggested Jacky, moodily.
+
+"Just so--in business, my dear. In matters matrimonial it may be
+different. But I doubt his failure in that," went on Mrs. Abbot, with a
+decided snap of her expressive mouth. "He will try by fair means or
+foul, and, if I know anything of him, he will never relinquish his
+purpose. He asked you to marry him--and of course you refused, quite
+natural and right. He will not risk another refusal from you--these
+people consider themselves very sensitive, my dear--so he will attempt
+to accomplish his end by other means--means much more congenial to him,
+the--the beast. There now, I've said it, my dear. The doctor tells me
+that he is quite the most skilful player at poker that he has ever come
+across."
+
+"I guess that's so," said the girl, with a dark, ironical smile.
+
+"And that his luck is phenomenal," the old lady went on, without
+appearing to notice the interruption. "Very well. Your uncle, the old
+fool--excuse me, my dear--has done nothing but gamble all his life. The
+doctor says that he believes John has never been known to win more than
+about once in a month's play, no matter with whom he plays. You know--we
+all know--that for years he has been in the habit of raising loans from
+this monumental cuttle-fish to settle his losses. And you can trust that
+individual to see that these loans are well secured. John Allandale is
+reputed very rich, but the doctor assures me that were Lablache to
+foreclose his mortgages a very, very big slice of your uncle's worldly
+goods would be taken to meet his debts.
+
+"Now comes the last stage of the affair," she went on, with a sage
+little shake of the head. "How long ago is it since Lablache proposed to
+you? But there, you need not tell me. It was a little less than a year
+ago--wasn't it?"
+
+Her companion nodded her head. She wondered how "Aunt" Margaret had
+guessed it. She had never told a soul herself. The shrewd little old
+lady was filling her with wonder. The careful manner in which she had
+pieced facts together and argued them out with herself revealed to her
+a cleverness and observation she would never, in spite of the kindly
+soul's counsels, have given her credit for.
+
+"Yes, I knew I was right," said Mrs. Abbot, complacently. "Just about
+the time when Lablache began seriously to play poker--about the time
+when his phenomenal luck set in, to the detriment of your uncle. Yes, I
+am well posted," as the girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. "The
+doctor tells me a great deal--especially about your uncle, dear. I
+always like to know what is going on. And now to bring my long
+explanation to an end. Don't you see how Lablache intends to marry you?
+Your uncle's losses this winter have been so terribly heavy--and all to
+Lablache. Lablache holds the whip hand of him. A request from Lablache
+becomes a command--or the crash."
+
+"But how about the Doc," asked Jacky, quickly. "He plays with
+them--mostly?"
+
+Mrs. Abbot shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"The doctor can take care of himself. He's cautious, and
+besides--Lablache has no wish to win his money."
+
+"But surely he must lose? Say, auntie, dear, it's not possible to play
+against Lablache's luck without losing--some."
+
+"Well, dear, I can't say I know much of the game," with some perplexity,
+"but the doctor assures me that Lablache never hits him hard. Often and
+often when the 'pot' rests between them Lablache will throw down his
+hand--which goes to show that he does not want to take his money."
+
+"An' I reckon goes to show that he's bucking dead against Uncle John,
+only. Yes, I see."
+
+The little gray head again bent over the darning, which had lain almost
+untouched in her lap during her long recital. Now she resolutely drew
+the darning yarn through the soft wool of the sock and re-inserted the
+needle. The girl beside her bent an eager face before her, and, resting
+her chin upon her hands, propped her elbows on her knees.
+
+"Yes, auntie, I know," Jacky went on thoughtfully. "Lablache means to
+put this marriage with me right through. I see it all. But say,"
+bringing one of her brown hands down forcibly upon that of her
+companion, which was concealed in the foot of the woolen sock, and
+gripping it with nervous strength, "I guess he's reckoned without his
+bride. I'm not going to marry Lablache, auntie, dear, and you can bet
+your bottom dollar I'm not going to let him ruin uncle. All I want to do
+is to stop uncle drinking. That is what scares me most."
+
+"My child, Lablache is the cause of that. The same as he is the cause of
+all troubles in Foss River. Your uncle realizes the consequences of the
+terrible losses he has incurred. He knows, only too well, that he is
+utterly in the money-lender's power. He knows he must go on playing,
+vainly endeavoring to recover himself, and with each fresh loss he
+drinks deeper to smother his fears and conscience. It is the result of
+the weakness of his nature--a weakness which I have always known would
+sooner or later lead to his undoing. Jacky, girl, I fear you will one
+day have to marry Lablache or your uncle's ruin will be certainly
+accomplished."
+
+Mrs. Abbot's face was very serious now. She pitied from the bottom of
+her heart this motherless girl who had come to her, in spite of her
+courage and almost mannish independence, for that sympathy and advice
+which, at certain moments, the strongest woman cannot do without. She
+knew that all she had said was right, and even if her story could do no
+material good it would at least have the effect of putting the girl on
+her guard. In spite of her shrewdness Mrs. Abbot could never quite
+fathom her _protégée_. And even now, as she gazed into the girl's face,
+she was wondering how--in what manner--the narration of her own
+observations would influence the other's future actions. The thick blood
+of the half-breed slowly rose into Jacky's face, until the dark skin was
+suffused with a heavy, passionate flush. Slowly, too, the somber eyes
+lit--glowed--until the dazzling fire of anger shone in their depths.
+Then she spoke; not passionately, but with a hard, cruel delivery which
+sent a shiver thrilling through her companion's body and left her
+shuddering.
+
+"'Aunt' Margaret, I swear by all that's holy that I'll never marry that
+scum. Say, I'd rather follow a round-up camp and share a greaser's
+blankets than wear all the diamonds Lablache could buy. An' as for
+uncle; say, the day that sees him ruined'll see Lablache's filthy brains
+spoiling God's pure air."
+
+"Child, child," replied the old lady, in alarm, "don't take oaths, the
+rashness--the folly of which you cannot comprehend. For goodness' sake
+don't entertain such wicked thoughts. Lablache is a villain, but--"
+
+She broke off and turned towards the door, which, at that moment, opened
+to admit the genial doctor.
+
+"Ah," she went on, with a sudden change of manner back to that of her
+usual cheerful self, "I thought you men were going to make a night of
+it. Jacky came to share my solitude."
+
+"Good evening, Jacky," said the doctor. "Yes, we were going to make a
+night of it, Margaret. Your summons broke up the party, and for John's
+sake--" He checked himself, and glanced curiously at the recurrent form
+of the girl, who was now lounging back in her chair gazing into the
+stove. "What did you want me for?"
+
+Jacky rose abruptly from her seat and picked up her hat.
+
+"'Aunt' Margaret didn't really want you, Doc. It was I who asked her to
+send for you. I want to see uncle."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The doctor permitted himself the ejaculation.
+
+"Good-night, you two dear people," the girl went on, with a forced
+attempt at cheerfulness. "I guess uncle'll be home by now, so I'll be
+off."
+
+"Yes, he left the saloon with me," said Doctor Abbot, shaking hands and
+walking towards the door. "You'll just about catch him."
+
+The girl kissed the old lady and passed out. The doctor stood for a
+moment on his doorstep gazing after her.
+
+"Poor child--poor child!" he murmured. "Yes, she'll find him--I saw him
+home myself," And he broke off with an expressive shrug.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE CAMPAIGN OPENS
+
+
+The summit of a hill, however insignificant its altitude, is always an
+inspiring vantage point from which to survey the surrounding world.
+There is a briskness of atmosphere on a hilltop which is inspiriting to
+the most jaded of faculties; there is a sparkling vitality in the breath
+of the morning air which must ever make life a joy and the world seem an
+inexpressible delight in which it is the acme of happiness to dwell.
+
+The exigencies of prairie life demand the habit of early rising, and
+more often does the tiny human atom, which claims for its home the vast
+tracts of natural pasture, gaze upon the sloth of the orb of day than
+does that glorious sphere smile down upon a sleeping world.
+
+Far as the eye can reach stretch the mighty wastes of waving grass--the
+undulating plains of ravishing verdure. What breadth of thought must
+thus be inspired in one who gazes out across the boundless expanse at
+the glories of a perfect sunrise? How insignificant becomes the petty
+affairs of man when gazing upon the majesty of God's handiwork. How
+utterly inconceivable becomes the association of evil with such
+transcendently beautiful creation? Surely no evil was intended to lurk
+in the shadow of so much simple splendor.
+
+And yet does the ghastly specter of crime haunt the perfect plains, the
+majestic valleys, the noiseless, inspiring pine woods, the glistening,
+snow-capped hills. And so it must remain as long as the battle of life
+continues undecided--so long as the struggle for existence endures.
+
+The Hon. Bunning-Ford rose while yet the daylight was struggling to
+overcome the shades of night. He stood upon the tiny veranda which
+fronted his minute house, smoking his early morning cigarette. He was
+waiting for his coffee--that stimulating beverage which few who have
+lived in the wilds of the West can do without--and idly luxuriating in
+the wondrous charm of scene which was spread out before him. "Lord" Bill
+was not a man of great poetic mind, but he appreciated his adopted
+country--"God's country," as he was wont to call it--as can only those
+who have lived in it. The prairie had become part of his very existence,
+and he loved to contemplate the varying lights and colors which moved
+athwart the fresh spring-clad plains as the sun rose above the eastern
+horizon.
+
+The air was chill, but withal invigorating, as he watched the steely
+blue of the daylit sky slowly give place to the rosy tint of sunrise.
+Slowly at first--then faster--great waves of golden light seemed to leap
+from the top of one green rising ground to another; the gray white of
+the snowy western mountains passed from one dead shade to another,
+until, at last, they gleamed like alabaster from afar with a diamond
+brilliancy almost painful to the eye. Thus the sun rose like some mighty
+caldron of fire mounting into the cloudless azure of a perfect sky,
+showering unctuous rays of light and heat upon the chilled life that was
+of its own creating.
+
+Bill was still lost in thought, gazing out upon the perfect scene from
+the vantage point of the hill upon which his "shack" stood, when round
+the corner of the house came a half-breed, bearing a large tin pannikin
+of steaming coffee. He took the pannikin from the man and propped
+himself against a post which helped to support the roof of the veranda.
+
+"Are the boys out yet?" he asked the waiting Breed, and nodding towards
+the corrals, which reposed at the foot of the hill and were overlooked
+by the house.
+
+"I guess," the fellow replied laconically. Then, as an afterthought,
+"They're getting breakfast, anyhow."
+
+"Say, when they've finished their grub you can tell 'em to turn to and
+lime out the sheds. I'm going in to the settlement to-day. If I'm not
+back to-night let them go right on with the job to-morrow."
+
+The man signified his understanding of the instructions with a grunt.
+This cook of "Lord" Bill's was not a man of words. His vocation had
+induced an irascibility of temper which took the form of silence. His
+was an incipient misanthropy.
+
+Bill returned the empty pannikin and strolled down towards the corrals
+and sheds. The great barn lay well away from where the cattle
+congregated. This ranch was very different from that of the Allandales
+of Foss River. It was some miles away from the settlement. Its
+surroundings were far more open. Timber backed the house, it is true,
+but in front was the broad expanse of the open plains. It was an
+excellent position, and, governed by a thrifty hand, would undoubtedly
+have thrived and ultimately vied with the more elaborate establishment
+over which Jacky held sway. As it was, however, Bill cared little for
+prosperity and money-making, and though he did not neglect his property
+he did not attempt to extend its present limits.
+
+The milch cows were slowly mouching from the corrals as he neared the
+sheds. A diminutive herder was urging them along with shrill, piping
+shrieks--vicious but ineffective. Far more to the purpose were the
+efforts to a well-trained, bob-tailed sheep dog who was awaking echoes
+on the brisk morning air with the full-toned note of his bark.
+
+"Lord" Bill found one or two hands quietly enjoying their
+after-breakfast smoke, but the majority had not as yet left the kitchen.
+Outside the barn two men were busily soft-soaping their saddles and
+bridles, whilst a third, seated on an upturned box, was wiping out his
+revolver with a coal-oil rag. Bill passed them by with a nod and
+greeting, and went into the stable. The horses were feeding, but as yet
+the stalls had not been cleaned out. He returned and gave some
+instructions to one of the men. Then he walked slowly back to the house.
+Usually he would have stayed down there to see the work of the day
+carried out; now, however, he was preoccupied. On this particular
+morning he took but little interest in the place; he knew only too well
+how soon it must pass from his possession.
+
+Half-way up the hill he paused and turned his sleepy eyes towards the
+south. At a considerable distance a vehicle was approaching at a
+spanking pace. It was a buckboard, one of those sturdy conveyances built
+especially for light prairie transport. As yet it was not sufficiently
+near for him to distinguish its occupant, but the speed and cut of the
+horses seemed familiar to him. He continued on towards the house, and
+seated himself leisurely on the veranda, and, rolling himself another
+cigarette, calmly watched the on-coming conveyance.
+
+It was the habit of this man never to be prodigal in the display of
+energy. He usually sat when there was no need for standing; he always
+considered speech to be golden, but silence, to his way of thinking, was
+priceless. And like most men of such opinion he cultivated thought and
+observation.
+
+He propped his back against the veranda post, and, taking a deep
+inhalation from his cigarette, gazed long and earnestly, with
+half-closed eyes, down the winding southern trail.
+
+His curiosity, if such a feeling might have been attributed to him, was
+soon set at rest, for, as the horses raced up the hill towards him, he
+had no difficulty in recognizing the bulky proportions of his visitor.
+Seeing the driver of the buckboard making for the house, two of the
+"hands" had hastened up the hill to take the horses. Lablache, for it
+was the fleshy money-lender, slid, as agilely as his great bulk would
+permit him, from the vehicle, and the two men took charge of the horses.
+Bill was not altogether cordial. It was not his way to be so to anybody
+but his friends.
+
+"How are you?" he said with a nod, but without rising from his recumbent
+attitude. "Goin' to stay long?"
+
+His latter question sounded churlish, but Lablache understood his
+meaning. It was of the horses the rancher was thinking.
+
+"An hour, maybe," replied Lablache, breathing heavily as a result of his
+climb out of the buckboard.
+
+"Right Take 'em away, boys. Remove the harness and give 'em a good rub
+down. Don't water or feed 'em till they're cool. They're spanking
+'plugs,' Lablache," he added, as he watched the horses being led down to
+the barn. "Come inside. Had breakfast?" rising and knocking the dust
+from the seat of his moleskin trousers.
+
+"Yes, I had breakfast before daylight, thanks," Lablache said, glancing
+quickly down at the empty corrals, where his horses were about to
+undergo a rubbing down. "I came out to have a business chat with you.
+Shall we go in-doors?"
+
+"Most certainly."
+
+There was an expressive curtness in the two words. Bill permitted
+himself a brief survey of the great man's back as the latter turned
+towards the front door. And although his half-closed lids hid the
+expression of his eyes, the pursing of the lips and the fluctuating
+muscles of his jaw spoke of unpleasant thoughts passing through his
+mind. A business talk with Lablache, under the circumstances, could not
+afford the rancher much pleasure. He followed the money-lender into the
+sitting-room.
+
+The apartment was very bare, mannish, and scarcely the acme of neatness.
+A desk, a deck chair, a bench and a couple of old-fashioned windsor
+chairs; a small table, on which breakfast things were set, an old
+saddle, a rack of guns and rifles, a few trophies of the chase in the
+shape of skins and antelope heads comprised the furniture and
+decorations of the room. And too, in that slightly uncouth collection,
+something of the character of the proprietor was revealed.
+
+Bunning-Ford was essentially careless of comfort. And surely he was
+nothing if not a keen and ardent sportsman.
+
+"Sit down." Bill indicated the chairs with a wave of the arm. Lablache
+dubiously eyed the deck chair, then selected one of the unyielding
+Windsor chairs as more safe for the burden of his precious body, tested
+it, and sat down, emitting a gasp of breath like an escape of steam from
+a safety-valve. The younger man propped himself on the corner of his
+desk.
+
+Lablache looked furtively into his companion's face. Then he turned his
+eyes in the direction of the window. Bill said nothing, his face was
+calm. He intended the money-lender to speak first. The latter seemed
+indisposed to do so. His lashless eyes gazed steadily out at the prairie
+beyond. "Lord" Bill's persistent silence at length forced the other into
+speech. His words came slowly and were frequently punctuated with deep
+breaths.
+
+"Your ranch--everything you possess is held on first mortgage."
+
+"Not all." Bunning-Ford's answer came swiftly. The abruptness of the
+other's announcement nettled him. The tone of the words conveyed a
+challenge which the younger man was not slow to accept.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders with deliberation until his fleshy jowl
+creased against the woolen folds of his shirt front.
+
+"It comes to the same thing," he said; "what I--what is not mortgaged is
+held in bonds. The balance, practically all of it, you owe under
+signature to Pedro Mancha. It is because of that--latest--debt I am
+here."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Bill rolled a fresh cigarette and lit it. He guessed something of what
+was coming--but not all.
+
+"Mancha will force you to meet your liabilities to him. Your interest is
+shortly due to the Calford Loan Co. You cannot meet both."
+
+Lablache gazed unblinkingly into the other's face. He was thoroughly
+enjoying himself.
+
+Bill was staring pensively at his cigarette. One leg swung pendulum
+fashion beside the desk. His indebtedness troubled him not a jot. He was
+trying to fathom the object of this prelude. Lablache, he knew, had not
+come purposely to make these plain statements. He blew a cloud of smoke
+down his nostrils with much appreciation. Then he heaved a sigh as
+though his troubles were too great for him to bear.
+
+"Right--dead right, first time."
+
+The lazy eyes appeared to be staring into space. In reality they were
+watching the doughy countenance before him. "What do you propose to do?"
+Lablache asked, ignoring the other's flippant tone.
+
+Bill shrugged.
+
+"Debts of honor must be met first," he said quietly. "Mancha must be
+paid in full. I shall take care of that. For the rest, I have no doubt
+your business knowledge will prompt you as to what course the Calford
+Loan Co. and yourself had best adopt."
+
+Lablache was slightly taken aback at the cool indifference of this man.
+He scarcely knew how to deal with him. He had driven out this morning
+intending to coerce, or, at least, strike a hard bargain. But the object
+of his attentions was, to say the least of it, difficult.
+
+He moved uneasily and crossed his legs.
+
+"There is only one course open to your creditors. It is a harsh method
+and one which goes devilishly against the grain. But--"
+
+"Pray don't apologize, Mr. Lablache," broke in the other, smiling
+sardonically. "I am fully aware of the tender condition of your
+feelings. I only trust that in this matter you will carry out
+your--er--painful duty without worrying me with the detail of the
+necessary routine. I shall settle Mancha's debt at once and then you are
+welcome to the confounded lot."
+
+Bill moved from his position and walked towards the door. The
+significance of his action was well marked. Lablache, however, had no
+intention of going yet. He moved heavily round upon his chair so as to
+face his man.
+
+"One moment--er--Ford. You are a trifle precipitate. I was going on to
+say, when you interrupted me, that if you cared to meet me half-way I
+have a proposition to make which might solve your difficulty. It is an
+unusual one, I admit, but," with a meaning smile, "I rather fancy that
+the Calford Loan Co. might be induced to see the advantage, _to them_,
+of delaying action."
+
+The object of this early morning visit was about to be made apparent.
+Bill returned to his position at the desk and lit another cigarette. The
+suave manner of his unwelcome guest was dangerous. He was prepared.
+There was something almost feline in the attitude and the expression of
+the young rancher as he waited for the money-lender to proceed. Perhaps
+Lablache understood him. Perhaps his understanding warned him to adopt
+his best manner. His usual method in dealing with his victims was hardly
+the same as he was now using.
+
+"Well, what is this 'unusual' course?" asked Bill, in no very tolerant
+tone. He wished it made quite plain that he cared nothing about the
+"selling up" process to which he knew he must be subjected. Lablache
+noted the haughty manner and resented it, but still he gave no outward
+sign. He had a definite object to attain and he would not allow his
+anger to interfere with his chances of success.
+
+"Merely a pleasant little business arrangement which should meet all
+parties' requirements," he said easily. "At present you are paying a ten
+per cent, interest on a principal of thirty-five thousand dollars to the
+Calford Loan Co. A debt of twenty thousand to me includes an amount of
+interest which represents ten per cent, interest for ten years. Very
+well, Your ranch should be yielding a greater profit than it is. With
+your permission the Calford Trust Co. shall put in a competent manager,
+whose salary shall be paid out of the profits. The balance of said
+profits shall be handed Over to your creditors, less an annual income to
+you of fifteen hundred dollars. Thus the principal of your debts, at a
+careful computation, should be liquidated in seven years. In
+consideration of thus shortening the period of the loans by three years
+the Calford Trust Co. shall allow you a rebate of five per cent,
+interest. Failing the profits in seven years amounting to the sums of
+money required, the Calford Trust Co. and myself will forego the balance
+due to us. Let me plainly assure you that this is no philanthropic
+scheme but the result of practical calculation. The advantage to you is
+obvious. An assured income during that period, and your ranch well and
+ably managed and improved. Your property at the end of seven years will
+return to you a vastly more valuable possession than it is at present.
+And we, on our part, will recover our money and interest without the
+unpleasant reflection that, in doing so, we have beggared you."
+
+Lablache, usurer, scoundrel, smiled benignly at his companion as he
+pronounced his concluding words. The Hon. Bunning-Ford looked, thought,
+and looked again. He began to think that Lablache was meditating a more
+rascally proceeding than he had given him credit for. His words were so
+specious. His pie was so delicately crusted with such a tempting
+exterior. What was the object of this magnanimous offer? He felt he must
+know more.
+
+"It sounds awfully well, but surely that is not all. What, in return, is
+demanded of me?"
+
+Lablache had carefully watched the effect of his words. He was wondering
+whether the man he was dealing with was clever beyond the average, or a
+fool. He was still balancing the point in his mind when Bill put the
+question.
+
+Lablache looked away, produced a snuff-box and drew up a large pinch of
+snuff before answering. He blew his nose with trumpet-like vehemence on
+a great red bandana.
+
+"The only return asked of you is that you vacate the country for the
+next two years," he said heavily. And in that rejoinder "Lord" Bill
+understood the man's guile.
+
+It was a sudden awakening, but it came to him as no sort of surprise. He
+had long suspected, although he had never given serious credence to his
+suspicions, the object the money-lender had in inveigling both himself
+and "Poker" John into their present difficulties. Now he understood, and
+a burning desire swept over him to shoot the man down where he sat. Then
+a revulsion of feeling came to him and he saw the ludicrous side of the
+situation. He gazed at Lablache, that obese mountain of blubber, and
+tried to think of the beautiful, wild Jacky as the money-lender's wife.
+The thing seemed so preposterous that he burst out into a mocking laugh.
+
+Lablache, whose fishy eyes had never left the rancher's face, heard the
+tone and slowly flushed with anger. For an instant he seemed about to
+rise, then instead he leant forward.
+
+"Well?" he asked, breathing his monosyllabic inquiry hissing upon the
+air.
+
+Bill emitted a thin cloud of smoke into the money-lender's face. His
+eyes had suddenly become wide open and blazing with anger. He pointed to
+the door.
+
+"I'll see you damned first! Now--git!"
+
+At the door Lablache turned. In his face was written all the fury of
+hell.
+
+"Mancha's debt is transferred to me. You will settle it without delay."
+
+He had scarcely uttered the last word when there was a loud report, and
+simultaneously the crash of a bullet in the casing of the door. Lablache
+accepted his dismissal with precipitation and hastened to where his
+horses were stationed, to the accompaniment of "Lord" Bill's mocking
+laugh. He had no wish to test the rancher's marksmanship further.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT
+
+
+A month--just one month and the early spring has developed with almost
+tropical suddenness into a golden summer. The rapid passing of seasons,
+the abrupt break, the lightning change from one into another, is one of
+the many beauties of the climate of that fair land where there are no
+half measures in Nature's mode of dealing out from her varied store of
+moods. Spring chases Winter, hoary, bitter, cruel Winter, in the hours
+of one night; and in turn Spring's delicate influence is overpowered
+with equal celerity by the more matured and unctuous ripeness of Summer.
+
+Foss River had now become a glorious picture of vivid coloring. The
+clumps of pine woods no longer present their tattered purplish
+appearance, the garb in which grim Winter is wont to robe them. They are
+lighter, gayer, and bathed in the gleaming sunlight they are transformed
+from their somber forbidding aspect to that of radiant, welcome shade.
+The river is high, almost to flooding point. And the melting snow on the
+distant mountain-tops has urged it into a sparkling torrent of icy cold
+water rushing on at a pace which threatens to tear out its deterring
+banks and shallow bed in its mad career.
+
+The most magical change which the first month of summer has brought is
+to be seen in the stock. Cattle, when first brought in from distant
+parts at the outset of the round-up, usually are thin, mean-looking, and
+half-starved. Two weeks of the delicious spring grass and the fat on
+their ribs and loins rolls and shakes as they move, growing almost
+visibly under the succulent influence of the delicate vegetation.
+
+Few at Foss River appreciated the blessings of summer more fully than
+did Jacky Allandale, and few worked harder than did she. Almost
+single-handed she grappled with the stupendous task of the management of
+the great ranch, and no "hand," however experienced, was more capable in
+the most arduous tasks which that management involved. From the skillful
+organization down to the roping and branding of a wild two-year-old
+steer there was no one who understood the business of stock-raising
+better than she. She loved it--it was the very essence of life to her.
+
+Silas, her uncle's foreman, was in the habit of summing her up in his
+brief but expressive way.
+
+"Missie Jacky?" he would exclaim, in tones of surprise, to any one who
+dared to express wonder at her masterly management. "Guess a cyclone
+does its biz mighty thorough, but I take it ef that gal 'ud been born a
+hurricane she'd 'ave dislodged mountains an' played baseball with the
+glaciers."
+
+But this year things were different with the mistress of the Foss River
+Ranch. True she went about her work with that thorough appreciation
+which she always displayed, but the young face had last something of its
+happy girlish delight--that _débonnaire_ cheerfulness which usually
+characterized it. A shadow seemed to be hanging over her--a shadow,
+which, although it marred in no way her fresh young beauty, added a
+deepened pensiveness to her great somber eyes, and seemed to broaden the
+fringing black ring round the gray pupils. This year the girl had more
+to grapple with than the mere management of the ranch.
+
+Her uncle needed all her care. And, too, the consciousness that the
+result of all her work was insufficient to pay the exorbitant interest
+on mortgages which had been forced upon her uncle by the hated,
+designing Lablache took something of the zest from her labors. Then,
+besides this, there were thoughts of the compact sealed between her
+lover and herself in Bad Man's Hollow, and the knowledge of the
+intentions of the money-lender towards "Lord" Bill, all helped to render
+her distrait. She knew all about the scene which had taken place at
+Bill's ranch, and she knew that, for her lover at least, the crash had
+come. During that first month of the open season the girl had been
+sorely tried. There was no one but "Aunt" Margaret to whom she could go
+for comfort or sympathy, and even she, with her wise councils and
+far-seeing judgment, could not share in the secrets which weighed so
+heavily upon the girl.
+
+Jacky had not experienced, as might have been expected, very great
+difficulty in keeping her uncle fast to the grind-stone of duty.
+Whatever his faults and weaknesses, John Allandale was first of all a
+rancher, and when once the winter breaks every rancher must work--ay,
+work like no negro slave ever worked. It was only in the evenings, when
+bodily fatigue had weakened the purpose of ranching habit, and when the
+girl, wearied with her day's work, relaxed her vigilance, that the old
+man craved for the object of his passion and its degrading
+accompaniment. Then he would nibble at the whisky bottle, having "earned
+his tonic," as he would say, until the potent spirit had warmed his
+courage and he would hurry off to the saloon for "half an hour's
+flutter," which generally terminated in the small hours of the morning.
+
+Such was the state of affairs at the Foss River Ranch when Lablache put
+into execution his threats against the Hon. Bunning-Ford. The settlement
+had returned to its customary torpid serenity. The round-up was over,
+and all the "hands" had returned to the various ranches to which they
+belonged. The little place had entered upon its period of placid sleep,
+which would last until the advent of the farmers to spend the proceeds
+of their garnered harvest. But this would be much later in the year, and
+in the meantime Foss River would sleep.
+
+The night before the sale of "Lord" Bill's ranch, he and Jacky went for
+a ride. They had thus ridden out on many evenings of late. Old John was
+too absorbed in his own affairs to bother himself at these evening
+journeyings, although, in his careless way, he noticed how frequent a
+visitor at the ranch Bill had lately become. Still, he made no
+objection. If his niece saw fit to encourage these visits he would not
+interfere. In his eyes the girl could do no wrong. It was his one
+redeeming feature, his love for the motherless girl, and although his
+way of showing it was more than open to criticism, it was true he loved
+her with a deep, strong affection.
+
+Foss River was far too sleepy to bother about these comings and goings.
+Lablache, alone, of the sleepy hamlet, eyed the evening journeys with
+suspicion. But even he was unable to fathom their object, and was forced
+to set them down, his whole being consumed with jealousy the while, to
+lovers' wanderings. However, these nightly rides were taken with
+purpose. After galloping across the prairie in various directions they
+always, as darkness crept on, terminated at a certain spot--the clump of
+willows and reeds at which the secret path across the great keg began.
+
+The sun was well down below the distant mountain peaks when Jacky and
+her lover reached the scrubby bush of willows and reeds upon the evening
+before the day of the sale of Bill's ranch. As they drew up their
+panting horses, and dismounted, the evening twilight was deepening over
+the vast expanse of the mire.
+
+The girl stood at the brink of the bottomless caldron of viscid muck and
+gazed out across the deadly plain. Bill stood still beside her, watching
+her face with eager, hungry eyes.
+
+"Well?" he said at last, as his impatience forced itself to his lips.
+
+"Yes, Bill," the girl answered slowly, as one balancing her decision
+well before giving judgment, "the path has widened. The rain has kept
+off long enough, and the sun has done his best for us. It is a good
+omen. Follow me."
+
+She linked her arm through the reins of her horse's bridle, and leading
+the faithful animal, stepped fearlessly out on to the muskeg. As she
+trod the rotten crust she took a zigzag direction from one side of the
+secret path to the other. That which, in early spring, had scarcely been
+six feet in width, would now have borne ten horsemen abreast. Presently
+she turned back. "We need go no further, Bill; what is safe here
+continues safe across the keg. It will widen in places, but in no place
+will the path grow narrower."
+
+"But tell me," said the man, anxious to assure himself that no detail
+was forgotten, "what about the trail of our footprints?"
+
+The girl laughed. Then indenting the ground with her shapely boot until
+the moisture below oozed into the imprint, she looked up into the lazy
+face before her.
+
+"See--we wait for one minute, and you shall see the result."
+
+They waited in silence in the growing darkness. The night insects and
+mosquitoes buzzed around them. The man's attention was riveted upon the
+impression made by the girl's foot. Slowly the water filled the print,
+then slowly, under the moist influence, the ground, sponge-like, rose
+again, the water disappeared, and all sign of the footmark was gone.
+
+When again the ground had resumed its natural appearance the girl looked
+up.
+
+"Are you satisfied, Bill? No man or beast who passes over this path
+leaves a trail which lasts longer than a minute. Even the rank grass,
+however badly trodden down, rears itself again with amazing vitality. I
+guess this place was created through the devil's agency and for the
+purpose of devil's work."
+
+Bill gave one sweeping glance around. Then he turned, and the two made
+their way back to the edge of the sucking mire.
+
+"Yes, it'll do, dear. Now let us hasten home."
+
+They remounted their horses and were soon lost in the gathering darkness
+as they made their way over the brow of the rising ground, in the
+direction of the settlement.
+
+The next day saw the possession of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's ranch pass
+into other hands. Punctually at noon, the sale began. And by four
+o'clock the process, which robbed the rancher of everything that he
+possessed in the world, was completed.
+
+Bill stationed himself on the veranda and smoked incessantly while the
+sale proceeded. He was there to see how the things went, and, in fact,
+seemed to take an outsider's interest only. He experienced no morbid
+sentiment at the loss of his property--it is doubtful if he cared at
+all. Anyhow, his leisurely attitude and his appearance of good-natured
+indifference caused many surprised remarks amongst the motley collection
+of bidders who were present. In spite of these appearances, however, he
+did take a very keen interest. A representative of Lablache's was there
+to purchase stock, and Bill knew it, and his interest was centered on
+this would-be purchaser.
+
+The stock was the last thing to come under the hammer. There were twenty
+lots. Of these Lablache's representative purchased
+fifteen--three-quarters of the stock of the entire ranch.
+
+Bill waited only for this, then, as the sale closed, he leisurely rolled
+and lit another cigarette and strolled to where a horse, which he had
+borrowed from the Allandales stable, was tied, and rode slowly away.
+
+As he rode away he turned his head in the direction of the house upon
+the hill. He was leaving for good and all the place which had so long
+claimed him as master. He saw the small gathering of people still
+hanging about the veranda, upon which the auctioneer still stood with
+his clerk, busy over the sales. He noticed others passing hither and
+thither, as they prepared to depart with their purchases. But none of
+these things which he looked upon affected him in any mawkish,
+sentimental manner. It was all over. That little hill, with its wooded
+background and vast frontage of prairie, from which he had loved to
+watch the sun get up after its nightly sojourn, would know him no more.
+His indifference was unassumed. His was not the nature to regret past
+follies.
+
+He smiled softly as he turned his attention to the future which lay
+before him, and his smile was not in keeping with the expression of a
+broken man.
+
+In these last days of waning prosperity Bunning-Ford had noticeably
+changed. With loss of property he had lost much of that curious veneer
+of indolence, utter disregard of consequences, which had always been
+his. Not, that he had suddenly developed a violent activity or
+boisterous enthusiasm. Simply his interest in things and persons seemed
+to have received a fillip. There seemed to be an air of latent activity
+about him; a setness of purpose which must have been patent to any one
+sufficiently interested to observe the young rancher closely. But Foss
+River was too sleepy--indifferent--to worry itself about anybody, except
+those in its ranks who were riding the high horse of success. Those who
+fell out by the wayside were far too numerous to have more than a
+passing thought devoted to them. So this subtle change in the man was
+allowed to pass without comment by any except, perhaps, the
+money-lender, Lablache, and the shrewd, kindly wife of the
+doctor--people not much given to gossip.
+
+It was only since the discovery of Lablache's perfidy that "Lord" Bill
+had understood what living meant. His discovery in Smith's saloon had
+roused in him a very human manhood. Since that time he had been seized
+with a mental activity, a craving for action he had never, in all his
+lazy life, before experienced. This sudden change had been aggravated by
+Lablache's subsequent conduct, and the flame had been fanned by the
+right that Jacky had given him to protect her. The sensation was one of
+absorbing excitement, and the loss of property sat lightly upon him in
+consequence. Money he had not--property he had not. But he had now what
+he had never possessed before--he had an object.
+
+A lasting, implacable vengeance was his, from the contemplation of which
+he drew a satisfaction which no possession of property could have given
+him. Nature had, with incorrigible perversity, cut him out for a life of
+ease, whilst endowing him with a character capable of very great things.
+Now, in her waywardness she had aroused that character and overthrown
+the hindering superficialty in which she had clothed it. And further to
+mark her freakish mood, these same capabilities which might easily,
+under other circumstances, have led him into the fore-front of life's
+battle, she directed, with inexorable cruelty, into an adverse course.
+He had been cheated, robbed, and his soul thirsted for revenge. Lablache
+had robbed the uncle of the girl he loved, and, worse than all, the
+wretch had tried to oust him from the affections of the girl herself.
+Yes, he thirsted for revenge as might any traveler in a desert crave for
+water. His eyes, no longer sleepy, gleamed as he thought. His long,
+square jaws seemed welded into one as he thought of his wrongs. His was
+the vengeance which, if necessary, would last his lifetime. At least,
+whilst Lablache lived no quarter would he give or accept.
+
+Something of this he was thinking as he took his farewell of the ranch
+on the hill, and struck out in the direction of the half-breed camp
+situated in a hollow some distance outside the settlement of Foss
+River.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE FIRST CHECK
+
+
+The afterglow of sunset slowly faded out of the western sky. And the
+hush of the night was over all. The feeling of an awful solitude, which
+comes to those whose business is to pass the night on the open prairie,
+is enhanced rather than reduced by the buzz of insect life upon the
+night air. The steady hum of the mosquito--the night song of the
+grasshoppers and frogs--the ticking, spasmodic call of the invisible
+beetles--all these things help to intensify the loneliness and magnitude
+of the wild surroundings. Nor does the smoldering camp-fire lessen the
+loneliness. Its very light deepens the surrounding dark, and its only
+use, after the evening meal is cooked, is merely to dispel the savage
+attack of the voracious mosquito and put the fear of man into the hearts
+of the prairie scavenger, the coyote, whose dismal howl awakens the
+echoes of the night at painfully certain intervals, and often drives
+sleep from the eyes of the weary traveler.
+
+It is rare that the "cow-hand" pitches his camp amongst hills, or in the
+neighborhood of any bushy growth. The former he shuns from a natural
+dislike for a limited view. The latter, especially if the bush takes the
+form of pine woods, is bad for many reasons, chief amongst which is the
+fact of its being the harborage of the savage, gigantic timber wolf--a
+creature as naturally truculent as the far-famed grizzly, the denizen of
+the towering Rockies.
+
+Upon a high level of the prairie, out towards the upper reaches of the
+Rainy River, a tributary of the broad, swift-flowing Foss River, and
+some fifteen miles from the settlement, two men were lounging, curled
+leisurely round the smoldering remains of a camp fire. Some distance
+away the occasional lowing of a cow betrayed the presence of a band of
+cattle.
+
+The men were wide awake and smoking. Whether they refrained from sleep
+through necessity or inclination matters little. Probably the hungry
+attacks of the newly-hatched mosquito were responsible for their
+wakefulness. Each man was wrapped in a single brown blanket, and folded
+saddle-cloth answered as a pillow, and it was noticeable that they were
+stretched out well to leeward of the fire, so that the smoke passed
+across them, driving away a few of the less audacious "skitters."
+
+"We'll get 'em in by dinner to-morrow," said one of the sleepless men
+thoughtfully. His remark was more in the tone of soliloquy than
+addressed to the other. Then louder, and in a manner which implied
+resentment, "Them all-fired skitters is givin' me a twistin'."
+
+"Smoke up, pard," came a muffled rejoinder from the region of the other
+blanket "Maybe your hide's a bit tender yet. I 'lows skitters 'most
+allus goes fur young 'uns. Guess I'm all right."
+
+"Dessay you are," replied the first speaker, sharply. "I ain't been long
+in the country--leastways, not on the prairie, an' like as not I ain't
+dropped into the ways o' things. I've allus heerd as washin' is mighty
+bad when skitters is around. They doesn't worry you any."
+
+He pulled heavily at his pipe until his face was enveloped in a fog of
+smoke. His companion's tone of patronage had nettled him. The old hand
+moved restlessly but did not answer. It is doubtful if the other's
+sarcasm had been observed. It was scarcely broad enough to penetrate the
+toughened hide of the older hand's susceptibilities.
+
+The silence was broken by a man's voice in the distance. The sound of an
+old familiar melody, chanted in a manly and not unmusical voice, reached
+the fireside. It was the voice of the man who was on watch round the
+band of cattle, and he was endeavoring to lull them into quiescence.
+The human voice, in the stillness of the night, has a somnolent effect
+upon cattle, and even mosquitoes, unless they are very thick, fail to
+counteract the effect. The older hand stirred. Then he sat up and
+methodically replenished the fire, kicking the dying embers together
+until they blazed afresh.
+
+"Jim Bowley do sing mighty sweet," he said, in disparaging tones. "Like
+a crazy buzz-saw, I guess. S'pose them beasties is gettin' kind o'
+restless. Say, Nat, how goes the time? It must be night on ter your
+spell."
+
+Nat sat up and drew out a great silver watch.
+
+"Haf an hour yet, pard." Then he proceeded to re-fill his pipe, cutting
+great flakes of black tobacco from a large plug with his sheath knife.
+Suddenly he paused in the operation and listened. "Say, Jake, what's
+that?"
+
+"What's what?" replied Jake, roughly, preparing to lie down again.
+
+"Listen!"
+
+The two men bent their keen, prairie-trained ears to windward. They
+listened intently. The night was very black--as yet the moon had not
+risen. Jake used his eyes as well as ears. On the prairie, as well as
+elsewhere, eyes have a lot to do with hearing. He sought to penetrate
+the darkness around him, but his efforts were unavailing. He could hear
+no sound but the voice of Jim Bowley and the steady plodding of his
+horse's feet as he ceaselessly circled the band of somnolent cattle. The
+sky was cloudy, and only here and there a few stars gleamed diamond-like
+in the heavens, but threw insufficient light to aid the eyes which
+sought to penetrate the surrounding gloom. The old hand threw himself
+back on his pillow in skeptical irritation.
+
+"Thar ain't nothin', young 'un," he said disdainfully. "The beasties is
+quiet, and Jim Bowley ain't no tenderfoot. Say, them skitters 'as
+rattled yer. Guess you 'eard some prowlin' coyote. They allus come
+around whar ther's a tenderfoot."
+
+Jake curled himself up again and chuckled at his own sneering
+pleasantry.
+
+"Coyote yerself, Jake Bond," retorted Nat, angrily. "Them lugs o' yours
+is gettin' old. Guess yer drums is saggin'. You're mighty smart, I don't
+think."
+
+The youngster got on to his feet and walked to where the men's two
+horses were picketed. Both horses were standing with ears cocked and
+their heads held high in the direction of the mountains. Their attitude
+was the acme of alertness. As the man came up they turned towards him
+and whinnied as if in relief at the knowledge of his presence. But
+almost instantly turned again to gaze far out into the night. Wonderful
+indeed is a horse's instinct, but even more wonderful is the keenness of
+his sight and hearing.
+
+Nat patted his broncho on the neck, and then stood beside him
+watching--listening. Was it fancy, or was it fact? The faintest sound of
+a horse galloping reached him; at least, he thought so.
+
+He returned to the fire sullenly antagonistic. He did not return to his
+blanket, but sat silently smoking and thinking. He hated the constant
+reference to his inexperience on the prairie. If even he did hear a
+horse galloping in the distance it didn't matter. But it was his ears
+that had first caught the sound in spite of his inexperience. His
+companion pigheadedly derided the fact because his own ears were not
+sufficiently keen to have detected the sound himself.
+
+Thus he sat for a few minutes gazing into the fire. Jake was now snoring
+loudly, and Nat was glad to be relieved from the tones of his sneering
+voice. Presently he rose softly from his seat, and taking his saddle
+blanket, saddled and bridled his horse. Then he mounted and silently
+rode off towards the herd. It was his relief on the cattle guard.
+
+Jim Bowley welcomed him with the genial heartiness of a man who knows
+that he has finished his vigil and that he can now lie down to rest. The
+guarding of a large herd at night is always an anxious time. Cattle are
+strange things to handle. A stampede will often involve a week's weary
+scouring of the prairie.
+
+Just as Jim Bowley was about to ride up to the camp, Nat fired a
+question which he had been some time meditating.
+
+"Guess you didn't hear a horse gallopin' jest now, pard?" he asked
+quietly.
+
+"Why cert, boy," the other answered quickly, "only a deaf mule could 'a'
+missed it. Some one passed right under the ridge thar, away to the
+southwest. Guess they wer' travelin' mighty fast too. Why?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', Jim, on'y I guess Jake Bond's that same deaf mule you
+spoke of. He's too fond of gettin' at youngsters, the old fossil. I told
+'im as I 'card suthin', an' 'e told me as I was a tenderfoot and didn't
+know wot I was gassin' about."
+
+"Jake's a cantankerous cuss, boy. Let 'im gas; 'e don't cut any figger
+anyway. Say, you keep yer eye peeled on some o' the young heifers on the
+far side o' the bunch. They're rustlin' some. They keep mouching after
+new grass. When the moon gits up you'll see better. S'long, mate."
+
+Jim rode away towards the camp fire, and young Nat proceeded to circle
+round the great herd of cattle. It was a mighty bunch for three men to
+handle. But Lablache, its owner, was never one to underwork his men.
+This was the herd which he had purchased at the sale of Bunning-Ford's
+ranch. And they were now being taken to his own ranch, some distance to
+the south of the settlement, for the purpose of re-branding with his own
+marks.
+
+As young Nat entered upon his vigil the golden arc of the rising moon
+broke the sky-line of the horizon. Already the clouds were fast
+clearing, being slowly driven before the yellow glory of the orb of
+night. Soon the prairie would be bathed in the effulgent, silvery light
+which renders the western night so delicious when the moon is at its
+full.
+
+As the cowboy circled the herd, the moon, at first directly to his left,
+slowly dropped behind until its, as yet, dull light shone full upon his
+back. The beasts were quite quiet and the sense of responsibility which
+was his, in a measure, lessened.
+
+Some distance ahead, and near by where' he must pass, a clump of
+undergrowth and a few stunted trees grew round the base of a hillock and
+broken rocks. The cattle were reposing close up by this shelter. Nat's
+horse, as he drew near to the brush, was ambling along at that peculiar
+gait, half walk, half trot, essentially the pace of a "cow-horse."
+Suddenly the animal came to a stand, for which there seemed no apparent
+reason. He stood for a second with ears cocked, sniffing at the night
+air in evident alarm. Then a prolonged, low whistle split the air. The
+sound came from the other side of the rocks, and, to the tenderfoot's
+ears, constituted a signal.
+
+The most natural thing for him to have done would have been to wait for
+further developments, if developments there were to be. However, he was
+a plucky youngster, in spite of his inexperience, and, besides,
+something of the derision of Jake Bond was still rankling in his mind.
+He knew the whistle to be the effort of some man, and his discovery of
+the individual would further prove the accuracy of his hearing, and he
+would then have the laugh of his companion. A more experienced hand
+would have first looked to his six-shooter and thought of cattle
+thieves, but, as Jake had said, he was a tenderfoot. Instead, without a
+moment's hesitation, he dashed his spurs into his broncho's flanks and
+swept round to the shadowed side of the rocks.
+
+He realized his folly when too late. The moment he entered the shade
+there came the slithering whirr of something cutting through the air.
+Something struck the horse's front legs, and the next moment he shot out
+of the saddle in response to a somersault which the broncho turned. His
+horse had been roped by one of his front legs. The cowboy lay where he
+fell, dazed and half stunned. Then he became aware of three dark faces
+bending over him. An instant later a gag was forced into his mouth, and
+he felt himself being bound hand and foot. Then the three faces silently
+disappeared, and all was quiet about him.
+
+In the meantime, on the rising ground, where the camp fire burned, all
+was calm slumber. The two old hands were taking their rest with healthy
+contentment and noisy assertion. The glory of the rising moon was lost
+to the slumberers, and no dread of coming disaster disturbed them. The
+stertorous blasts of their nostrils testified to this. The replenished
+fire slowly died down to a mass of white smoldering ashes, and the
+chill-growing air caused one of the sleepers to move restlessly in his
+sleep and draw his head down beneath his blanket for greater warmth.
+
+Up the slope came three figures. They were moving with cautious,
+stealthy step, the movement of men whose purpose is not open. On they
+came swiftly--silently. One man led; he was tall and swarthy with long
+black hair falling upon his shoulders in straight, coarse mass. He was
+evidently a half-breed, and his clothes denoted him to be of the poorer
+class--a class accustomed to live by preying upon its white neighbors.
+He was clad in a pair of moleskin trousers, which doubtless at one time
+had been white, but which now were of that nondescript hue which dirt
+conveys. His upper garments were a beaded buckskin shirt and a battered
+Stetson hat. Around his waist was a cartridge belt, on which was slung a
+holster containing a heavy six-chambered revolver and a long sheath
+knife.
+
+His companions were similarly equipped, and the three formed a wild
+picture of desperate resolve. Yard by yard they drew toward the
+sleepers, at each step listening for the loud indications of sleep which
+were made only too apparent upon the still night air. Now they were
+close upon the fire. One of the unconscious cow-boys, Jim Bowley,
+stirred. A moment passed. Then the intruders drew a step nearer.
+Suddenly Jim roused and then sat up. His action at once became a signal.
+There was a sound of swift footsteps, and the next instant the
+astonished man was gazing into the muzzle of a heavy pistol.
+
+"Hands up!" cried the voice of the leading half-breed. One of his
+followers had similarly covered the half-awakened Jake.
+
+Without a word of remonstrance two pairs of hands went up. Astonishment
+had for the moment paralyzed speech on the part of the rudely awakened
+sleepers. They were only dimly conscious of their assailants. The
+compelling rings of metal that confronted them weighed the balance of
+their judgment, and their response was the instinctive response of the
+prairie. Whoever their assailants, they had got the drop on them. The
+result was the law of necessity.
+
+In depressing silence the assailants drew their captives' weapons. Then,
+after binding their arms, the leader bade them rise. His voice was harsh
+and his accent "South-western" American. Then he ordered them to march,
+the inexorable pistol ever present to enforce obedience. In silence the
+two men were conducted to the bush where the first capture had been
+made. And here they were firmly tied to separate trees with their own
+lariats.
+
+"See hyar," said the tall half-breed, as the captives' feet were bound
+securely. "There ain't goin' to be no shootin'. You're that sensible.
+You're jest goin' to remain right hyar till daylight, or mebbe later. A
+gag'll prevent your gassin'. You're right in the track of white men, so
+I guess you'll do. See hyar, bo', jest shut it," as Jim Bowley essayed
+to speak, "cause my barker's itchin' to join in a conversation."
+
+The threat had a quieting effect upon poor Jim, who immediately closed
+his lips. Silent but watchful he eyed the half-breed's face. There was
+something very familiar about the thin cheeks, high cheek-bones, and
+about the great hooked nose. He was struggling hard to locate the man.
+At this moment the third ruffian approached with three horses. The other
+had been busy fixing a gag in Jake Bond's mouth. Jim Bowley saw the
+horses come up. And, in the now brilliant moonlight, he beheld and
+recognized a grand-looking golden chestnut. There was no mistaking that
+glorious beast. Jim was no tenderfoot; he had been on the prairie in
+this district for years. And although he had never come into actual
+contact with the man, he had seen him and knew about the exploits of the
+owner of that perfect animal.
+
+The half-breed approached him with an improvised gag. For the life of
+him Jim could not resist a temptation which at that moment assailed him.
+The threatening attitude of his captor for the instant had lost its
+effect. If he died for it he must blurt out his almost superstitious
+astonishment.
+
+The half-breed seized his prisoner's lower jaw in his hand and
+compressed the cheeks upon the teeth. Jim's lips parted, and a horrified
+amazement found vent in words.
+
+"Holy Gawd! man. But be ye flesh or sperrit? Peter Retief--as I'm a
+livin'--"
+
+He said no more, for, with a wrench, the gag was forced into his mouth
+by the relentless hand of the man before him. Although he was thus
+silenced his eyes remained wide open and staring. The dark stern face,
+as he saw it, was magnified into that of a fiend. The keen eyes and
+depressed brows, he thought, might belong to some devil re-incarnated,
+whilst the eagle-beaked nose and thin-compressed lips denoted, to his
+distorted fancy, a sanguinary cruelty. At the mention of his name this
+forbidding apparition flashed a vengeful look at the speaker, and a half
+smile of utter disdain flickered unnoticed around the corners of his
+mouth.
+
+Once his prisoners were secured the dark-visaged cattle-thief turned to
+the horses. At a word the trio mounted. Then they rode off, and the
+wretched captives beheld, to their unspeakable dismay, the consummate
+skill with which the cattle were roused and driven off. Away they went
+with reckless precipitance, the cattle obeying the master hand of the
+celebrated raider with an implicitness which seemed to indicate a
+strange sympathy between man and beast. The great golden chestnut raced
+backwards and forwards like some well-trained greyhound, heading the
+leading beasts into the desired direction without effort or apparent
+guidance. It was a grand display of the cowboy's art, and, in spite of
+his predicament and the cruel tightness of his bonds, Jim Bowley reveled
+in the sight of such a display.
+
+In five minutes the great herd was out of sight, and only the distant
+rumble of their speeding hoofs reached the captives. Later, the moon, no
+longer golden, but shedding a silvery radiance over all, shone down upon
+a peaceful plain. The night hum of insects was undisturbed. The mournful
+cry of the coyote echoed at intervals, but near by, where the camp fire
+no longer put the fear of man into the hearts of the scavengers of the
+prairie, all was still and calm. The prisoners moaned softly, but not
+loud enough to disturb the peace of the perfect night, as their cruel
+bonds gnawed at their patience. For the rest, the Western world had
+resumed its wonted air.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE HUE AND CRY
+
+
+"A thousand head of cattle, John! A thousand; and 'hustled' from under
+our very noses. By thunder! it is intolerable. Over thirty-five thousand
+dollars gone in one clean sweep. Why, I say, do we pay for the up-keep
+of the police if this sort of thing is allowed to go on? It is
+disgraceful. It means ruination to the country if a man cannot run his
+stock without fear of molestation. Who said that scoundrel Retief was
+dead--drowned in the great muskeg? It's all poppy-cock, I tell you; the
+man's as much alive as you or I. Thirty-five thousand dollars! By
+heavens!--it's--it's scandalous!"
+
+Lablache leant forward heavily in his chair and rested his great arms
+upon John Allandale's desk. "Poker" John and he were seated in the
+former's office, whither the money-lender had come, post-haste, on
+receiving the news of the daring raid of the night before. The great
+man's voice was unusually thick with rage, and his asthmatical breathing
+came in great gusts as his passionate excitement grew under the lash of
+his own words. The old rancher gazed in stupefied amazement at the
+financier. He had not as yet fully realized the fact with which he had
+just been acquainted in terms of such sweeping passion. The old man's
+brain was none too clear in the mornings now. And the suddenness of the
+announcement had shocked his faculties into a state of chaos.
+
+"Terrible--terrible," was all he was able to murmur. Then, bracing
+himself, he asked weakly, "But what are you to do?"
+
+The weather-beaten old face was working nervously. The eyes, in the
+past keen and direct in their glance, were bloodshot and troubled. He
+looked like a man who was fast breaking up. Very different from the
+night when we first met him at the Calford Polo Club ball. There could
+be no doubt as to the origin of this swift change. The whole atmosphere
+of the man spoke of drink.
+
+Lablache turned on him without any attempt to conceal the latent
+ferocity of his nature. The heavy, pouchy jowl was scarlet with his
+rage. The money-lender had been flicked upon a very raw and tender spot.
+Money was his god.
+
+"What am I to do?" he retorted savagely. "What are _we_ to do? What is
+all the ranching world of Alberta to do? Why, fight, man. Hound this
+scoundrel to his lair. Follow him--track him. Hunt him from bush to bush
+until we fall upon him and tear him limb from limb. Are we going to sit
+still while he terrorizes the whole country? While he 'hustles' every
+head of stock from us, and--and spirits it away? No, if we spend
+fortunes upon his capture we must not rest until he swings from a gibbet
+at the end of his own lariat."
+
+"Yes, of course--of course," the rancher responded, his cheek twitching
+weakly. "You are quite right, we must hunt this scoundrel down. But we
+know what has gone before--I mean, before he was supposed to have died.
+The man could never be traced. He seemed to vanish into thin air. What
+do you propose?"
+
+"Yes, but that was two years ago," said Lablache, moodily. "Things may
+be different now. A thousand head of cattle does not vanish so easily.
+There is bound to be some trace left behind. And then, the villain has
+only got a short start of us. I sent a messenger over to Stormy Cloud
+Settlement the first thing this morning. A sergeant and four men will be
+sent to work up the case. I expect them here at any moment. As justices
+of the peace it devolves on both of us to set an example to the
+settlers, and we shall then receive hearty co-operation. You understand,
+John," the money-lender went on, with pompous assertiveness, "although,
+at present, I am the chief sufferer by this scoundrel's depredations, it
+is plainly your duty as much as mine to take this matter up."
+
+The first rough storm of Lablache's passion had passed. He was "yanking"
+himself up to the proper attitude for the business in hand. Although he
+had calmed considerably his lashless eyes gleamed viciously, and his
+flabby face wore an expression which boded ill for the object of his
+rage, should that unfortunate ever come within the range of his power.
+
+"Poker" John was struggling hard to bring a once keen intellect to bear
+upon the affair. He had listened to the money-lender's account of the
+raid with an almost doubtful understanding, the chief shock to which was
+the re-appearance of the supposed dead Retief, that prince of
+"hustlers," who, two years ago, had terrorized the neighborhood by his
+impudent raids. At last his mind seemed to clear and he stood up. And,
+bending across the desk as though to emphasize his words, he showed
+something of the old spirit which had, in days gone by, made him a
+successful rancher.
+
+"I don't believe it, Lablache. This is some damned yarn to cover the
+real culprit. Why, man, Peter Retief is buried deep in that reeking keg,
+and no slapsided galoot's goin' to pitch such a crazy notion as his
+resurrection down my throat. Retief? Why, I'd as lief hear that Satan
+himself was abroad duffing cattle. Bah! Where's the 'hand' that's gulled
+you?"
+
+Lablache eyed the old man curiously. He was not sure that there might
+not be some truth in the rancher's forcible skepticism. For the moment
+the old man's words carried some weight, then, as he remembered the
+unvarnished tale the cowboy had told, he returned to his conviction. He
+shook his massive head.
+
+"No one has gulled me, John. You shall hear the story for yourself as
+soon as the police arrive. You will the better be able to judge of the
+fellow's sincerity."
+
+At this moment the sound of horses' hoofs came in through the open
+window. Lablache glanced out on to the veranda.
+
+"Ah, here he is, and I'm glad to see they've sent Sergeant Horrocks. The
+very man for the work. Good," and he rubbed his fat hands together.
+"Horrocks is a great prairie man."
+
+"Poker" John rose and went out to meet the officer. Later he conducted
+him into the office. Sergeant Horrocks was a man of medium height,
+slightly built, but with an air of cat-like agility about him. He was
+very bronzed, with a sharp, rather than a clever face. His eyes were
+black and restless, and a thin mouth, hidden beneath a trim black
+mustache, and a perfectly-shaped aquiline nose, completed the sum of any
+features which might be called distinctive. He was a man who was
+thoroughly adapted to his work--work which needed a cool head and quick
+eye rather than great mental attainments. He was dressed in a brown
+canvas tunic with brass buttons, and his riding breeches were concealed
+in, a pair of well-worn leather "chaps." A Stetson hat worn at the exact
+angle on his head, with his official "side arms" secured round his
+waist, completed a very picturesque appearance.
+
+"Morning, Horrocks," said the money-lender. "This is a pretty business
+you've come down on. Left your men down in the settlement, eh?"
+
+"Yes. I thought I'd come and hear the rights of the matter straight
+away. According to your message you are the chief victim of this
+'duffing' business?"
+
+"Exactly," replied Lablache, with a return to his tone of anger, "one
+thousand head of beeves! Thirty-five thousand dollars' worth!" Then he
+went on more calmly: "But wait a moment, we'll send down for the 'hand'
+that brought in the news."
+
+A servant was despatched, and a few minutes later Jim Bowley entered.
+Jacky, returning from the corrals, entered at the same time. Directly
+she had seen the police horse outside she knew what was happening. When
+she appeared Lablache endeavored to conceal a look of annoyance.
+Sergeant Horrocks raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was not accustomed
+to petticoats being present at his councils. John, however, without
+motive, waived all chance of objection by anticipating his guests.
+
+"Sergeant, this is my niece, Jacky. Affairs of the prairie affect her as
+nearly as they do myself. Let us hear what this man has to tell us."
+
+Horrocks half bowed to the girl, touching the brim of his hat with a
+semi-military salute. Acquiescence to her presence was thus forced upon
+him.
+
+Jacky looked radiant in spite of the uncouthness of her riding attire.
+The fresh morning air was the tonic she loved, and, as yet, the day was
+too young for the tired shadows to have crept into her beautiful face.
+Horrocks, in spite of his tacit objection, was forced to admire the
+sturdy young face of this child of the prairie.
+
+Jim Bowley plunged into his story with a directness and simplicity which
+did not fail to carry conviction. He told all he knew without any
+attempt at shielding himself or his companions. Horrocks and the old
+rancher listened carefully to the story. Lablache looked for
+discrepancies but found none. Jacky, whilst paying every attention,
+keenly watched the face of the money-lender. The seriousness of the
+affair was reflected in all the faces present, whilst the daring of the
+raid was acknowledged by the upraised brows and wondering ejaculations
+which occasionally escaped the police-officer and "Poker" John. When the
+narrative came to a close there followed an impressive pause. Horrocks
+was the first to break it.
+
+"And how did you obtain your release?"
+
+"A Mennonite family, which had bin travelin' all night, came along 'bout
+an hour after daylight. They pitched camp nigh on to a quarter mile from
+the bluff w'ere we was tied up. Then they came right along to look fur
+kindlin'. There wasn't no other bluff for half a mile but ours. They
+found us all three. Young Nat 'ad got 'is collar-bone broke. Them
+'ustlers 'adn't lifted our 'plugs' so I jest came right in."
+
+"Have you seen these Mennonites?" asked the officer, turning sharply to
+the money-lender.
+
+"Not yet," was the heavy rejoinder. "But they are coming in."
+
+The significance of the question and the reply nettled the cowboy.
+
+"See hyar, mister, I ain't no coyote come in to pitch yarns. Wot I've
+said is gospel. The man as 'eld us up was Peter Retief as sure as I'm a
+living man. Sperrits don't walk about the prairie 'ustling cattle, an' I
+guess 'is 'and was an a'mighty solid one, as my jaw felt when 'e gagged
+me. You take it from me, 'e's come around agin to make up fur lost time,
+an' I guess 'e's made a tidy haul to start with."
+
+"Well, we'll allow that this man is the hustler you speak of," went on
+Horrocks, bending his keen eyes severely on the unfortunate cowboy.
+"Now, what about tracking the cattle?"
+
+"Guess I didn't wait fur that, but it'll be easy 'nough."
+
+"Ah, and you didn't recognize the man until you'd seen his horse?"
+
+The officer spoke sharply, like a counsel cross-examining a witness.
+
+"Wal, I can't say like that," said Jim, hesitating for the first time.
+"His looks was familiar, I 'lows. No, without knowing of it I'd
+recognized 'im, but 'is name didn't come along till I see that beast,
+Golden Eagle. I 'lows a good prairie hand don't make no mistake over
+cattle like that. 'E may misgive a face, but a beastie--no, siree."
+
+"So you base your recognition of the man on the identity of his horse. A
+doubtful assertion."
+
+"Thar ain't no doubt in my mind, sergeant. Ef you'll 'ave it so, I
+did--some."
+
+The officer turned to the other men.
+
+"If there's nothing more you want this man for, gentlemen, I have quite
+finished with him--for the present. With your permission," pulling out
+his watch, "I'll get him to take me to the er--scene of disaster in an
+hour's time."
+
+The two men nodded and Lablache conveyed the necessary order to the man,
+who then withdrew.
+
+As soon as Bowley had left the room three pairs of eyes were turned
+inquiringly upon the officer.
+
+"Well?" questioned Lablache, with some show of eagerness.
+
+Horrocks shrugged a pair of expressive shoulders.
+
+"From his point of view the man speaks the truth," he replied
+decisively. "And," he went on, more to himself than to the others, "we
+never had any clear proof that the scoundrel, Retief, came to grief.
+From what I remember things were very hot for him at the time of his
+disappearance. Maybe the man's right. However," turning to the others,
+"I should not be surprised if Mr. Retief has overreached himself this
+time. A thousand head of cattle cannot easily be hidden, or, for that
+matter, disposed of. Neither can they travel fast; and as for tracking,
+well," with a shrug, "in this case it should be child's play."
+
+"I hope it will prove as you anticipate," put in John Allandale,
+concisely. "What you suggest has been experienced by us before. However,
+the matter, I feel sure, is in capable hands."
+
+The officer acknowledged the compliment mechanically. He was thinking
+deeply. Lablache struggled to his feet, and, supporting his bulk with
+one hand resting upon the desk, gasped out his final words upon the
+matter.
+
+"I want you to remember, sergeant, this matter not only affects me
+personally but also in my capacity as a justice of the peace. To
+whatever reward I am able to make in the name of H.M. Government I shall
+add the sum of one thousand dollars for the recovery of the cattle, and
+the additional sum of one thousand dollars for the capture of the
+miscreant himself. I have determined to spare no expense in the matter
+of hunting this devil," with vindictive intensity, "down, therefore you
+can draw on me for all outlay your work may entail. All I say is,
+capture him."
+
+"I shall do my best, Mr. Lablache," Horrocks replied simply. "And now,
+if you will permit me, I will go down to the settlement to give a few
+orders to my men. Good-morning--er--Miss Allandale; good day, gentlemen.
+You will hear from me to-night."
+
+The officer left in all the pride of his official capacity. And possibly
+his pride was not without reason, for many and smart were the captures
+of evil-doers he had made during his career as a keeper of the peace.
+But we have been told that "pride goeth before a fall." His estimation
+of a "hustler" was not an exalted one. He was accustomed to dealing with
+men who shoot quick and straight--"bad men" in fact--and he was equally
+quick with the gun, and a dead shot himself. Possibly he was a shade
+quicker and a trifle more deadly than the smartest "bad man" known, but
+now he was dealing with a man of all these necessary attainments and
+whose resourcefulness and cleverness were far greater than his own.
+Sergeant Horrocks had a harder road to travel than he anticipated.
+
+Lablache took his departure shortly afterwards, and "Poker" John and his
+niece were left in sole possession of the office at the ranch.
+
+The old man looked thoroughly wearied with the mental effort the
+interview had entailed upon him. And Jacky, watching him, could not help
+noticing how old her uncle looked. She had been a silent observer in the
+foregoing scene, her presence almost ignored by the other actors. Now,
+however, that they were left alone, the old man turned a look of
+appealing helplessness upon her. Such was the rancher's faith in this
+wild, impetuous girl that he looked for her judgment on what had passed
+in that room with the ready faith of one who regards her as almost
+infallible, where human intellect is needed. Nor was the girl, herself,
+slow to respond to his mute inquiry. The swiftness of her answer
+enhanced the tone of her conviction.
+
+"Set a thief to catch a thief, Uncle John. I guess Horrocks, in spite of
+his shifty black eyes, isn't the man for the business. He might track
+the slimmest neche that ever crossed the back of a choyeuse. Lablache is
+the man Retief has to fear. That uncrowned monarch of Foss River is
+subtle, and subtlety alone will serve. Horrocks?" with fine disdain.
+"Say, you can't shoot snipe with a pea-shooter."
+
+"That's so," replied John, with weary thoughtlessness. "Do you know,
+child, I can't help feeling a strange satisfaction that this Retief's
+victim is Lablache. But there, one never knows, when such a man is
+about, who will be the next to suffer. I suppose we must take our chance
+and trust to the protection of the police."
+
+The girl had walked to the window and now stood framed in the casement
+of it. She turned her face back towards the old man as he finished
+speaking, and a quiet little smile hovered round the corners of her
+fresh ripe lips.
+
+"I don't think Retief will bother us any--at least, he never did before.
+Somehow I don't think he's an ordinary rascal." She turned back to the
+window. "Hulloa, I guess Bill's coming right along up the avenue."
+
+A moment later "Lord" Bill, lazily cheerful as was his wont, stepped in
+through the open French window. The selling up of his ranch seemed to
+have made little difference to his philosophical temperament. In his
+appearance, perhaps, for now he no longer wore the orthodox dress of the
+rancher. He was clad in a tweed lounging suit, and a pair of
+well-polished, brown leather boots. His headgear alone pertained to the
+prairie. It was a Stetson hat. He was smoking a cigarette as he came up,
+but he threw the insidious weed from him as he entered the room.
+
+"Morning, John. How are you, Jacky? I needn't ask you if you have heard
+the news. I saw Sergeant Horrocks and old Shylock leaving your veranda.
+Hot lot--isn't it? And all Lablache's cattle, too."
+
+A look of deep concern was on his keen face. Lablache might have been
+his dearest friend. Jacky smiled over at him. "Poker" John looked
+pained.
+
+"Guess you're right, Bill," said the rancher. "Hot--very hot. I pity the
+poor devil if Lablache lays a hand on him. Excuse me, boy, I'm going
+down to the barn. We've got a couple of ponies we're breaking to
+harness."
+
+The old man departed. The others watched the burly figure as he passed
+out of the door. His whole personality seemed shrunken of late. The old
+robustness seemed a thing of the past. The last two months seemed to
+have put ten years of ageing upon the kindly old man. Jacky sighed as
+the door closed behind him, and there was no smile in her eyes as she
+turned again to her lover. Bill's face had become serious.
+
+"Well?" in a tone of almost painful anxiety.
+
+The girl had started forward and was leaning with her two brown hands
+upon the back of a chair. Her face was pale beneath her tan, and her
+eyes were bright with excitement. For answer, Bunning-Ford stepped to
+the French window and closed it, having first glanced up and down the
+veranda to see that it was empty. Not a soul was in sight. The tall
+pines, which lined the approach to the house, waved silently in the
+light breeze. The clear sky was gloriously blue. On everything was the
+peace of summer.
+
+The man swung round and came towards the girl. His eagle face was lit up
+by an expression of triumph. He held out his two hands, and the girl
+placed her own brown ones in them. He drew her towards him and embraced
+her in silence. Then he moved a little away from her. His gleaming eyes
+indexed the activity of his mind.
+
+"The cattle are safe--as houses. It was a grand piece of work, dear.
+They would never have faced the path without your help. Say, girlie, I'm
+an infant at handling stock compared with you. Now--what news?"
+
+Jacky was smiling tenderly into the strong face of the man. She could
+not help but wonder at the reckless daring of this man, who so many set
+down as a lazy good-for-nothing. She knew--she had always known, she
+fancied--the strong character which underlay that indolent exterior. It
+never appealed to her to regret the chance that had driven him to use
+his abilities in such a cause. There was too much of the wild half-breed
+blood in her veins to allow her to stop to consider the
+might-have-beens. She gloried in his daring, and something of the spirit
+which had caused her to help her half-brother now forced from her an
+almost worshiping adoration for her lover.
+
+"Horrocks is to spare no expense in tracking--Retief--down." She laughed
+silently. "Lablache is to pay. They are going over the old ground again,
+I guess. The tracks of the cattle. Horrocks is not to be feared. We must
+watch Lablache. He will act. Horrocks will only be his puppet."
+
+Bill pondered before he spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said thoughtfully at last, "that is the best of news. The very
+best. Horrocks can track. He is one of the best at that game. But I have
+taken every precaution. Tracking is useless--waste of time."
+
+"I know that from past experience, Bill. Now that the campaign has
+begun, what is the next move?"
+
+The girl was all eagerness. Her beautiful dark face was no longer pale.
+It was aglow with the enthusiasm of her feelings. Her deep, meaning eyes
+burned with a consuming brilliancy. Framed in its setting of curling,
+raven hair, her face would have rejoiced the heart of the old masters of
+the Van Dyke school. She was wondrously beautiful. Bill gazed upon her
+features with devouring eyes, and thoughts of the wrongs committed by
+Lablache against her and hers teemed through his brain and set his blood
+surging through his veins in a manner that threatened to overbalance his
+usual cool judgment. He forced himself to an outward calmness, however,
+and the lazy tones of his voice remained as easy as ever.
+
+"On the result of the next move much will depend," he said. "It is to be
+a terrific _coup_, and will entail careful planning. It is fortunate
+that the people at the half-breed camp are the friends of--of--Retief."
+
+"Yes, and of mine," put in the girl. Then she added slowly, and as
+though with painful thought, "Say, Bill, be--be careful. I guess you are
+all I have in the world--you and uncle. Do you know, I've kind of seen
+to the end of this racket. Maybe there's trouble coming. Who's to be
+lagged I can't say. There are shadows around, Bill; the place fairly
+hums with 'em. Say, don't--don't give Lablache a slant at you. I can't
+spare you, Bill."
+
+The tall thin figure of her companion stepped over towards her, and she
+felt herself encircled by his long powerful arms. Then he bent down from
+his great height and kissed her passionately upon the lips.
+
+"Take comfort, little girl. This is a war, if necessary, to the death.
+Should anything happen to me, you may be sure that I leave you freed
+from the snares of old Shylock. Yes, I will be careful, Jacky. We are
+playing for a heavy stake. You may trust me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS
+
+
+Lablache was not a man of variable moods. He was too strong; his purpose
+in life was too strong for any vacillation of temper. His one aim--his
+whole soul--was wrapt in a craving for money-making and the inevitable
+power which the accumulation of great wealth must give him. In all his
+dealings he was perfectly--at least outwardly--calm, and he never
+allowed access to anger to thwart his ends. An inexorable purpose
+governed his actions to an extent which, while his feelings might
+undergo paroxysms of acute changes, never permitted him to make a false
+move or to show his hand prematurely. But this latest reverse had upset
+him more than he had ever been upset in his life, and all the great
+latent force of his character had suddenly, as it were, been
+precipitated into a torrent of ungovernable fury. He had been wounded
+deeply in the most vulnerable spot in his composition. Thirty-five
+thousands of his precious dollars ruthlessly torn from his capacious and
+retentive money-bags. Truly it was a cruel blow, and one well calculated
+to disturb the even tenor of his complacency.
+
+Thought was very busy within that massive head as he lumped heavily
+along from John Allandale's house in the direction of his own store.
+Some slight satisfaction was his at the reflection of the prompt
+assistance he had obtained from the police. It was the satisfaction of a
+man who lived by the assistance of the law, of a man who, in his own
+inordinate arrogance, considered that the law was made for such as he,
+to the detriment of those who attempt to thwart the rich man's purpose.
+He knew Horrocks to be capable, and although he did not place too much
+reliance on that astute prairie-man's judgment--he always believed in
+his own judgment first--still, he knew that he could not have obtained
+better assistance, and was therefore as content as circumstances would
+permit. That he was sanguine of recovering his property was doubtful.
+Lablache never permitted himself the luxury of optimism. He set himself
+a task and worked steadily on to the required end. So he had decided
+now. He did not permit himself to dwell on the desired result, or to
+anticipate. He would simply leave no stone unturned to bring about the
+recovery of his stolen property.
+
+He moved ponderously along over the smooth dusty road, and at last
+reached the market-place. The settlement was drowsily quiet. Life of a
+sort was apparent but it was chiefly "animal." The usual number of dogs
+were moving about, or peacefully basking in the sun; a few saddle horses
+were standing with dejected air, hitched to various tying-posts. A
+buckboard and team was standing outside his own door. The sound of the
+smith's hammer falling upon the anvil sounded plaintively upon the
+calmness of the sleepy village. In spite of the sensational raid of the
+night before, Foss River displayed no unusual activity.
+
+At length the great man reached his office, and threw himself, with
+great danger to his furniture, into his capacious wicker chair. He was
+in no mood for business. Instead he gazed long and thoughtfully out of
+his office window. What somber, vengeful thoughts were teeming through
+his brain would be hard to tell, his mask-like face betrayed nothing.
+His sphinx-like expression was a blank.
+
+In this way half an hour and more passed. Then his attention became
+fixed upon a tall figure sauntering slowly towards the settlement from
+the direction of Allandale's ranch. In a moment Lablache had stirred
+himself, and a pair of field-glasses were leveled at the unconscious
+pedestrian. A moment later an exclamation of annoyance broke from the
+money-lender.
+
+"Curse the man! Am I never to be rid of this damned Englishman?" He
+stood now gazing malevolently at the tall figure of the Hon.
+Bunning-Ford, who was leisurely making his way towards the village. For
+the time being the channel of Lablache's thoughts had changed its
+direction. He had hoped, in foreclosing his mortgages on the
+Englishman's property, to have rid Foss River of the latter's, to him,
+hateful presence. But since misfortune had come upon "Lord" Bill, the
+Allandales and he had become closer friends than ever. This effort had
+been one of the money-lender's few failures, and failure galled him with
+a bitterness the recollection of which no success could eliminate. The
+result was a greater hatred for the object of his vengeance, and a
+lasting determination to rid Foss River of the Englishman forever. And
+so he remained standing and watching until, at length, the entrance of
+one of his clerks, to announce that the saloon dinner-time was at hand,
+brought him out of his cruel reverie, and he set off in quest of the
+needs of his inner man, a duty which nothing, of whatever importance,
+was allowed to interfere with.
+
+In the meantime, Horrocks, or, as he was better known amongst his
+comrades, "the Ferret," was hot upon the trail of the lost cattle.
+Horrocks bristled with energy at every point, and his men, working with
+him, had reason to be aware of the fact. It was an old saying amongst
+them that when "the Ferret" was let loose there was no chance of bits
+rusting. In other words, his mileage report to his chiefs would be a
+long one.
+
+As the sergeant anticipated, it was child's play to track the stolen
+herd. The tracks left by the fast-driven cattle was apparent to the
+veriest greenhorn, and Horrocks and his men were anything but
+greenhorns.
+
+Long before evening closed in they had followed the footprints right
+down to the edge of the great muskeg, and already Horrocks anticipated a
+smart capture. But his task seemed easier than it really was. On the
+brink of the keg the tracks became confused. With some difficulty the
+sleuth instincts of these accomplished trackers led them to follow the
+marks for a mile and a half along the edge of the mire, then, it seemed,
+the herd had been turned and driven with great speed back on their
+tracks. But worse confusion became apparent; and "the Ferret" soon
+realized that the herd had been driven up and down along the border of
+the great keg with a view to evading further pursuit. So frequently had
+this been done that it was impossible to further trace the stock, and
+the sun was already sinking when Horrocks dismounted, and with him his
+men were at last forced to acknowledge defeat.
+
+He had come to a standstill with a stretch of a mile and a half of
+cattle tracks before him. There was no sign further than this of where
+the beasts had been driven. The keg itself gave no clew. It was as green
+and trackless as ever, and again on the land side there was not a single
+foot-print beyond the confused marks along the quagmire's dangerous
+border.
+
+The work of covering retreat had been carried out by a master hand, and
+Horrocks was not slow to acknowledge the cleverness of the raider. With
+all one good prairie man's appreciation for another he detected a foeman
+worthy of his steel, and he warmed to the problem set out before him.
+The troopers waited for their superior's instructions. As "the Ferret"
+did not speak one of the men commented aloud.
+
+"Smart work, sergeant," he said quietly. "I'm not surprised that this
+fellow rode roughshod over the district for so long and escaped all who
+were sent to nab him. He's clever, is P. Retief, Esq."
+
+Horrocks was looking out across the great keg. Strangely enough they had
+halted within twenty yards of the willow bush, at which point the secret
+path across the mire began. The man with the gold chevrons upon his arm
+ignored the remark of his companion, but answered with words which
+occurred in his own train of thought.
+
+"It's plain enough, I guess. Yonder is the direction taken by the
+cattle," he said, nodding his head towards the distant peaks of the
+mountains beyond. "But who's got the nerve to follow 'em? Say," he went
+on sharply, "somewhere along this bank, I mean in the mile and a half of
+hoof marks, there's a path turns out, or, at least, firm ground by which
+it is possible to cross this devil's keg. It must be so. Cattle can't be
+spirited away. Unless, of course--but no, a man don't duff cattle to
+drown 'em in a swamp. They've crossed this pernicious mire, boys. We may
+nab our friend, Retief, but we'll never clap eyes on those beasts."
+
+"It's the same old business over again, sergeant," said one of the
+troopers. "I was on this job before, and I reckon we landed hereabouts
+every time we lit on Retief's trail. But we never got no further. Yonder
+keg is a mighty hard nut to crack. I guess the half-breed's got the
+bulge on us. If path across the mire there is he knows it and we don't,
+and, as you say, who's goin' to follow him?" Having delivered himself of
+these sage remarks he stepped to the brink of the mire and put his foot
+heavily upon its surface. His top-boot sank quickly through the yielding
+crust, and the black subsoil rose with oily, sucking action, 'and his
+foot was immediately buried out of sight. He drew it out sharply, a
+shudder of horror quickening his action. Strong man and hardy as he was,
+the muskeg inspired him with a superstitious terror. "Guess there ain't
+no following them beasties through that, sergeant. Leastways, not for
+me."
+
+Horrocks had watched his subordinate's action thoughtfully. He knew,
+without showing, that no man or beast could attempt to cross the mire
+with any hope of success without the knowledge of some secret path. That
+such a path, or paths, existed he believed, for many were the stories of
+how criminals in past days escaped prairie law by such means. However,
+he had no knowledge of any such paths himself, and he had no intention
+of sacrificing his life uselessly in an attempt to discover the keg's
+most jealously guarded secret.
+
+He turned back to his horse and prepared to vault into the saddle.
+
+"It's no use, boys. We are done for to-day. You can ride back to the
+settlement. I have another little matter on hand. If any of you see
+Lablache just tell him I shall join him in about two hours' time."
+
+Horrocks rode off and his four troopers headed towards the Foss River.
+
+Despite the fact that his horse had been under the saddle for nearly
+eight hours Horrocks rode at a great pace. He was one of those men who
+are always to be found on the prairie--thorough horsemen. Men who, in
+times of leisure, care more for their horses than they do for
+themselves; men who regard their horses as they would a comrade, but
+who, when it becomes a necessity to work or travel, demand every effort
+the animal can make by way of return for the care which has been
+lavished upon it. Such men generally find themselves well repaid. A
+horse is something more than a creature with four legs, one at each
+corner, head out of one end, tail out of the other. There is an old
+saying in the West to the effect that a thorough horseman is worthy of
+man's esteem. The opinion amongst prairie men is that a man who loves
+his horse can never be wholly bad. And possibly we can accept this
+decision upon the subject without question, for their experience in men,
+especially in "bad men," is wide and varied.
+
+Horrocks avoided the settlement, leaving it well to the west, and turned
+his willing beast in the direction of the half-breed camp. There was an
+ex-Government scout living in this camp whom he knew; a man who was
+willing to sell to his late employers any information he chanced to
+possess. It was the officer's intention to see this man and purchase all
+he had to sell, if it happened to be worth buying. Hence his visit to
+the camp.
+
+The evening shadows were fast lengthening when he espied in the distance
+the squalid shacks and dilapidated teepees of the Breeds. There was a
+large colony of those wanderers of the West gathered together in the
+Foss River camp. We have said that these places are hot-beds of crime, a
+curse to the country; but that description scarcely conveys the wretched
+poverty and filthiness of these motley gatherings. From a slight rising
+ground Horrocks looked down on what might have, at first sight, been
+taken for a small village. A scattering of small tumbled-down shacks,
+about fifty in number, set out on the fresh green of the prairie,
+created the first blot of uncleanly, uncouth habitation upon the view.
+Add to these a proportionate number of ragged tents and teepees, a crowd
+of unwashed, and, for the most part, undressed children, a hundred
+fierce and half-starved dogs of the "husky" type. Imagine a stench of
+dung fire cooking, and the gathering of millions of mosquitoes about a
+few choyeuses and fat cattle grazing near by, and the picture as it
+first presents itself is complete.
+
+The approach to such a place makes one almost wish the undulating
+prairie was not quite so fair a picture, for the contrast with man's
+filthy squalor is so great that the feeling of nauseation which results
+is almost overpowering. Horrocks, however, was used to such scenes. His
+duty often took him into worse Breed camps than this. He treated such
+places to a perfectly callous indifference, and regarded them merely as
+necessary evils.
+
+At the first shack he drew up and instantly became the center of
+attention from a pack of yelping dogs and a number of half-fearful,
+wide-eyed ragamuffins, grimy children nearly naked and ranging in age
+from two years up to twelve. Young as the latter were they were an
+evil-looking collection. The noisy greeting of the camp dogs had aroused
+the elders from their indolent repose within the shacks, and Horrocks
+quickly became aware of a furtive spying within the darkened doorways
+and paneless windows.
+
+The reception was nothing unusual to the officer. The Breeds he knew
+always fought shy of the police. As a rule, such a visit as the present
+portended an arrest, and they were never quite sure who the victim was
+to be and the possible consequences. Crime was so common amongst these
+people that in nearly every family it was possible to find one or more
+law-breakers and, more often than not, the delinquent was liable to
+capital punishment.
+
+Ignoring his cool reception, Horrocks hitched his horse to a tree and
+stepped up to the shack, regardless of the vicious snapping of the dogs.
+The children fled precipitately at his approach. At the door of the
+house he halted.
+
+"Hallo there, within!" he called.
+
+There was a moment's pause, and he heard a whispered debate going on in
+the shadowy interior.
+
+"Hey!" he called again. "Get a hustle on, some of you. Get out," he
+snapped sharply, as a great husky, with bristling hair, came snuffing at
+his legs. He aimed a kick at the dog, which, in response, sullenly
+retreated to a safe distance.
+
+The angry tone of his second summons had its effect, and a figure moved
+cautiously within and finally approached the door.
+
+"Eh! what is it?" asked a deep, guttural voice, and a bulky form framed
+itself in the opening.
+
+The police-officer eyed the man keenly. The twilight had so far deepened
+that there was barely sufficient light to distinguish the man's
+features, but Horrocks's survey satisfied him as to the fellow's
+identity. He was a repulsive specimen of the Breed; the dark, lowering
+face had something utterly cruel in its expression. The cast was brutal
+in the extreme; sensual, criminal. The shifty black eyes looked anywhere
+but into the policeman's face.
+
+"That you, Gustave?" said Horrocks, pleasantly enough. He wished to
+inspire confidence. "I'm looking for Gautier. I've got a nice little job
+for him. Do you know where he is?"
+
+"Ugh!" grunted Gustave, heavily, but with a decided air of relief. He
+entertained a wholesome dread of Sergeant Horrocks. Now he became more
+communicative. Horrocks had not come to arrest anybody. "I see," he went
+on, gazing out across the prairie, "this is not a warrant business, eh?
+Guess Gautier is back there," with a jerk of a thumb in a vague
+direction behind him. "He's in his shack. Gautier's just hooked up with
+another squaw."
+
+"Another?" Horrocks whistled softly. "Why, that's the sixth to my
+knowledge. He's very much a marrying man. How much did he pay the neche
+this time?"
+
+"Two steers and a sheep," said the man, with an oily grin.
+
+"Ah! I wonder how he acquired 'em. Well, I'll go and find him. Gautier
+is smart, but he'll land himself in the penitentiary if he goes on
+marrying squaws at that price. Say, which is his shack did you say?"
+
+"Back thar. You'll see it. He's just limed the outside of it. Guess
+white's the color his new squaw fancies most. S'long."
+
+The man was glad to be rid of his visitor. In spite of the sergeant's
+assurance, Gustave never felt comfortable in the officer's presence.
+Horrocks moved off in search of the white hut, while the Breed, with
+furtive eyes, watched his progress.
+
+There was no difficulty in locating the shack in that colony of grime.
+Even in the darkness the gleaming white of the ex-spy's abode stood out
+prominently. The dogs and children now tacitly acknowledged the right of
+the police-officer's presence in their camp, and allowed him to move
+about apparently unnoticed. He wound his way amongst the huts and tents,
+ever watchful and alert, always aiming for Gautier's hut. He knew that
+in this place at night his life was not worth much. A quick aim, and a
+shot from behind, and no one would ever know who had dropped him. But
+the Canadian police are accustomed to take desperate chances in their
+work, and think less of it than do our police patrols in the slums of
+London.
+
+He found Gautier sitting at his hut door waiting for him. Another might
+have been surprised at the Breed's cognizance of the police-officer's
+intentions, but Horrocks knew the habits of these people, and was fully
+alive to the fact that while he had been talking to Gustave a messenger
+was dispatched to warn Gautier that he was sought.
+
+"Well, sergeant, what's your best news?" Gautier asked civilly. He was a
+bright, intelligent-looking, dusky man, of perhaps forty years. His face
+was less brutal than that of the other Breed, but it was none the less
+cunning. He was short and massively built.
+
+"That's just what I've come to ask you, Gautier. I think you can tell me
+all I want to know--if you've a notion to. Say," with a keen look round,
+"can we talk here?"
+
+There was not a soul visible but an occasional playing child. It was
+curious how quiet the camp became. Horrocks was not deceived, however.
+He knew that a hundred pairs of eyes were watching him from the reeking
+recesses of the huts.
+
+"No talk here." Gautier was serious, and his words conveyed a lot. "It's
+bad medicine your coming to-night. But there," with a return to his
+cunning look, "I don't know that I've got anything to tell."
+
+Horrocks laughed softly.
+
+"Yes--yes, I know. You needn't be afraid." Then lowering his voice:
+"I've got a roll of bills in my pocket."
+
+"Ah, then don't stay here talking. There's lots to tell, but they'd kill
+me if they suspected. Where can I see you--quiet-like? They won't lose
+sight of me if they can help it, but I reckon I'm good for the best of
+'em."
+
+The man's attempt to look sincere was almost ludicrous. His cunning eyes
+twinkled with cupidity. Horrocks kept his voice down.
+
+"Right. I shall be at Lablache's store in an hour's time. You must see
+me to-night." Then aloud, for the benefit of listening ears, "You be
+careful what you are doing. This promiscuous buying of wives, with
+cattle which you may have difficulty in accounting for your possession
+of, will lead you into trouble. Mind, I've warned you. Just look to it."
+
+His last sentences were called out as he moved away, and Gautier quite
+understood.
+
+Horrocks did not return the way he had come, but took a circuitous
+route through the camp. He was a man who never lost a chance in his
+work, and now, while he was in the midst of that criminal haunt, he
+thought it as well to take a look round. He hardly knew what he expected
+to find out--if anything. But he required information of Retief, and he
+was fully alive to the fact that all that individual's movements would
+be known here. He trusted to luck to help him to discover something.
+
+The smartest of men have to work against overwhelming odds in the
+detection of crime. Many and devious are the ways of men whose hand is
+against the law. Surely is the best detective a mere babe in the hands
+of a clever criminal. In this instance the very thing that Horrocks was
+in search of was about to be forced upon him. For underlying that
+information was a deep-laid scheme.
+
+Never can reliance be placed in a true half-breed. The heathen Chinee is
+the ideal of truth and honesty when his wiles are compared with the dark
+ways of the Breed. Horrocks, with all his experience, was no match for
+the dusky-visaged outcast of the plains. Gautier had been deputied to
+convey certain information to Lablache by the patriarchs of the camp.
+And with his native cunning he had decided, on the appearance of
+Sergeant Horrocks, to extort a price for that which it was his duty to
+tell. Besides this, as matters had turned out, Horrocks was to receive
+gratis that for which he would shortly pay Gautier.
+
+He had made an almost complete circuit of the camp. Accustomed as he was
+to such places, the stench of it almost made him sick. He came to a
+stand close beside one of the outlying teepees. He was just preparing to
+fill his pipe and indulge in a sort of disinfecting smoke when he became
+aware of voices talking loudly close by. The sound proceeded from the
+teepees. From force of habit he listened. The tones were gruff, and
+almost Indian-like in the brevity of expression. The language was the
+bastard jargon of the French half-breed. For a moment he was doubtful.
+Then his attention became riveted.
+
+"Yes," said one voice, "he is a good man, is Peter. When he has plenty
+he spends it. He does not rob the poor Breed. Only the gross white man.
+Peter is clever. Very."
+
+Then another voice, deep-toned and full, took up the eulogy.
+
+"Peter knows how to spend his money. He spends it among his friends. It
+is good. How much whisky will he buy, think you?"
+
+Another voice chipped in at this point, and Horrocks strained his ears
+to catch the words, for the voice was the voice of a female and her
+utterance was indistinct.
+
+"He said he would pay for everything--all we could eat and drink--and
+that the pusky should be held the night after to-morrow. He will come
+himself and dance the Red River jig. Peter is a great dancer and will
+dance all others down."
+
+Then the first speaker laughed.
+
+"Peter must have a long stocking if he would pay for all. A barrel of
+rye would not go far, and as for food, he must bring several of the
+steers which he took from old Lablache if he would feed us. But Peter is
+always as good as his word. He said he would pay. And he will pay. When
+does he come to prepare?"
+
+"He does not come. He has left the money with Baptiste, who will see to
+everything. Peter will not give 'the Ferret' a chance."
+
+"But how? The dance will be a danger to him," said the woman's voice.
+"What if 'the Ferret' hears?"
+
+"He will not hear, and, besides, Peter will be prepared if the damned
+police come. Have no fear for Peter. He is bold."
+
+The voices ceased and Horrocks waited a little longer. But presently,
+when the voices again became audible, the subject of conversation had
+changed, and he realized that he was not likely to hear more that would
+help him. So, with great caution, he stole quickly away to where his
+horse was tied. He mounted hastily and rode off, glad to be away from
+that reeking camp, and greatly elated with the success of the visit.
+
+He had learned a lot. And he was to hear more yet from Gautier. He felt
+that the renowned "hustler" was already in his clutches. His spurs went
+sharply into his broncho's flanks and he raced over the prairie towards
+the settlement. Possibly he should have known better than to trust to
+the overhearing of that conversation. His knowledge of the Breeds should
+have warned him to put little faith in what he had heard. But he was
+eager. His reputation was largely at stake over this affair, and that
+must be the excuse for the rashness of his faith. However, the penalty
+of his folly was to be his, therefore blame can well be spared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION
+
+
+"Sit down and let me hear the--worst."
+
+Lablache's voice rasped harshly as he delivered his mandate. Horrocks
+had just arrived at the money-lender's store after his visit to the
+half-breed camp. The police-officer looked weary. And the dejected
+expression on his face had drawn from his companion the hesitating
+superlative.
+
+"Have you got anything to eat?" Horrocks retorted quickly, ignoring the
+other's commands. "I am famished. Had nothing since I set out from
+Stormy Cloud. I can't talk on an empty stomach."
+
+Lablache struck a table bell sharply, and one of his clerks, all of whom
+were still working in the store, entered. The money-lender's clerks
+always worked early and late. It was part of the great man's creed to
+sweat his _employees_.
+
+"Just go over to the saloon, Markham, and tell them to send supper for
+one--something substantial," he called out after the man, who hastened
+to obey with the customary precipitance of all who served the flinty
+financier.
+
+The man disappeared in a twinkling and Lablache turned to his visitor
+again.
+
+"They'll send it over at once. There's some whisky in that bottle,"
+pointing to a small cabinet, through the glass door of which gleamed the
+white label of "special Glenlivet." "Help yourself. It'll buck you up."
+
+Horrocks obeyed with alacrity, and the genial spirit considerably
+refreshed him. He then reseated himself opposite to his host, who had
+faced round from his desk.
+
+"My news is not the--worst, as you seem to anticipate; although,
+perhaps, it might have been better," the officer began. "In fact, I am
+fairly well pleased with the result of my day's work."
+
+"Which means, I take it, that you have discovered a clew."
+
+Lablache's heavy eyes gleamed.
+
+"Rather more than a clew," Horrocks went on reflectively. "My
+information relates more to the man than to the beasts. We shall, I
+think, lay our hands on this--Retief."
+
+"Good--good," murmured the money-lender, inclining his heavy jowled
+head. "Find the man and we shall recover the cattle."
+
+"I am not so sure of that," put in the other. "However, we shall see."
+
+Lablache looked slightly disappointed. The capture of Retief seemed to
+him synonymous with the recovery of his stock. However, he waited for
+his visitor to proceed. The money-lender was essentially a man to draw
+his own conclusions after hearing the facts, and no opinion of another
+was likely to influence him when once those conclusions were arrived at.
+Lablache was a strong man mentally and physically. And few cared to
+combat his decisions or opinions.
+
+For a moment further talk was interrupted by the entry of a man with
+Horrocks's supper. When the fellow had withdrawn the police-officer
+began his repast and the narration of his story at the same time.
+Lablache watched and listened with an undisturbed concentration. He lost
+no point, however small, in the facts as stated by the officer. He
+refrained from interruption, excepting where the significance of certain
+points in the story escaped him, and, at the conclusion, he was as
+conversant with the situation as though he had been present at the
+investigation. The great man was profoundly impressed with what he
+heard. Not so much with the shrewdness of the officer as with the simple
+significance of the loss of further trace of the cattle at the edge of
+the muskeg. Up to this point of the story he felt assured that Horrocks
+was to be perfectly relied upon, but, for the rest, he was not so sure.
+He felt that though this man was the finest tracker in the country the
+delicate science of deduction was not necessarily an accompaniment to
+his prairie abilities. Therefore, for the moment, he concentrated his
+thoughts upon the features surrounding the great keg.
+
+"It is a curious thing," he said retrospectively, as the policeman
+ceased speaking, "that in all previous raids of this Retief we have
+invariably tracked the lost stock down to this point. Of course, as you
+say, there is not the slightest doubt that the beasts have been herded
+over the keg. Everything seems to me to hinge on the discovery of that
+path. That is the problem which confronts us chiefly. How are we to find
+the secret of the crossing?"
+
+"It cannot be done," said Horrocks, simply but with decision.
+
+"Nonsense," exclaimed the other, with a heavy gasp of breath. "Retief
+knows it, and the others with him. Those cattle could not have been
+herded over single-handed. Now to me it seems plain that the crossing is
+a very open secret amongst the Breeds."
+
+"And I presume you consider that we should work chiefly on that
+hypothesis?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"And you do not consider the possible capture of Retief as being the
+most important feature of the case?"
+
+"Important--certainly. But, for the moment, of minor consideration. Once
+we discover the means by which he secretes his stock--and the
+hiding-place--we can stop his depredations and turn all our energies to
+his capture. You follow me? At first I was inclined to think with you
+that the capture of the man would be the best thing. But now it seems to
+me that the easiest method of procedure will be the discovery of that
+path."
+
+The rasping tone in which Lablache spoke conveyed to the other his
+unalterable conviction. The prairie man, however, remained unconvinced.
+
+"Well," he replied, after a moment's deliberation, "I cannot say I agree
+with you. Open secret or not, I've a notion that we'd stand a better
+chance of discovering the profoundest of state secrets than elicit
+information, even supposing them to possess it, of this description from
+the Breeds. I expect Gautier here in a few minutes; we shall hear what
+he has to say."
+
+"I trust he _may_ have something to say."
+
+Lablache snapped his reply out in that peculiar tone of his which spoke
+volumes. It never failed to anger him to have his opinions gainsaid.
+Then his manner changed slightly, and his mood seemed to become
+contemplative. Horrocks observed the change and wondered what was
+coming. The money-lender cleared his throat and spat into the stove.
+Then he spoke with that slow deliberation which was his when thinking
+deeply.
+
+"Two years ago, when Retief did what he liked in this part of the
+country, there were many stories going about as to his relationship with
+a certain lady in this settlement."
+
+"Miss Allandale--yes, I have heard."
+
+"Just so; some said that she--er--was very partial to him. Some, that
+they were distantly connected. All were of opinion that she knew a great
+deal of the man if she only chose to tell. These stories were
+gossip--merely. These small places are given to gossip. But I must
+confess to a belief that gossip is often--always, in fact--founded on a
+certain amount of fact."
+
+There was no niceness of feeling about this mountain of obesity in
+matters of business. He spoke as callously of the girl, for whom he
+entertained his unholy passion, as he would speak of a stranger. He
+experienced no compunction in linking her name with that of an outlaw.
+His gross nature was of too low an order to hold anything sacred where
+his money-bags were affected.
+
+"Perhaps you--er--do not know," he pursued, carefully lighting his pipe
+and pressing the charred tobacco down with the tip of his little finger,
+"that this girl is the daughter of a Breed mother?"
+
+"Guess I hadn't a notion."
+
+Horrocks's keen eyes flashed with interest. He too lit his pipe as he
+lounged back in his chair.
+
+"She is a quarter-breed, and, moreover, the esteem in which she is held
+by the skulking inhabitants of the camp inclines me to the belief
+that--er--judicious--er--handling--"
+
+"You mean that through her we might obtain the information we require?"
+
+Horrocks punctuated the other's deliberate utterances with hasty
+eagerness. Lablache permitted a vague smile about the corners of his
+mouth, his eyes remained gleaming coldly.
+
+"You anticipate me. The matter would need delicate handling. What Miss
+Allandale has done in the past will not be easy to find out. Granting,
+of course, that gossip has not wronged her," he went on doubtfully. "On
+second thoughts, perhaps you had better leave that source of information
+to me."
+
+He relapsed apparently into deep thought. His pensive deliberation was
+full of guile. He had a purpose to achieve which necessitated the
+suggestion which he had made to this representative of the law. He
+wished to impress upon his companion a certain connivance on the part
+of, at least, one member of the house of Allandale with the doings of
+the raider. He merely wished to establish a suspicion in the mind of the
+officer. Time and necessity might develop it, if it suited Lablache's
+schemes that such should occur. In the meantime he knew he could direct
+this man's actions as he chose.
+
+The calm superiority of the money-lender was not lost upon his
+companion. Horrocks was nettled, and showed it.
+
+"But you'll pardon me, Mr. Lablache. You have offered me a source of
+information which, as a police-officer, it is my duty to sound. As you
+yourself admit, the old stories of a secret love affair may have some
+foundation in fact. Accept that and what possibilities are not opened
+up? Had I been employed on the affairs of Retief, during his previous
+raids, I should certainly have worked upon so important a clew."
+
+"Tut, tut, man," retorted the other, sharply. "I understood you to be a
+keen man at your business. A single ill-timed move in the direction we
+are discussing and the fat will be in the fire. The girl is as smart as
+paint; at the first inkling of your purpose she'll curl up--shut up like
+a rat trap. The Breeds will be warned and we shall be further off
+success than ever. No, no, when it comes to handling Jacky Allandale you
+leave it to me--Ah!"
+
+Lablache's ejaculation was the result of the sudden apparition of a dark
+face peering in at his window. He swung round with lightning rapidity,
+and before Horrocks could realize what he was doing his fat hand was
+grasping the butt of a revolver. Then, with a grunt of annoyance, he
+turned back to his guest.
+
+"That's your Breed, I take it. For the moment I thought it was some one
+else; it's always best in these parts to shoot first and inquire
+afterwards. I occasionally get some strange visitors."
+
+The policeman laughed as he went to the door. His irritation at the
+money-lender's manner was forgotten. The strangeness of the sight of
+Lablache's twenty stone of flesh moving with lightning rapidity
+astonished him beyond measure. Had he not seen it nothing would have
+convinced him of the man's marvelous agility when roused by emergency.
+It was something worth remembering.
+
+Sure enough, the face on the other side of the window belonged to
+Gautier, and, as Horrocks opened the door, the Breed pushed his way
+stealthily in.
+
+"It's all right, boss," said the man, with some show of anxiety, "I've
+slipped 'em. I'm watched pretty closely, but--good evening, sir," he
+went on, turning to Lablache with obsequious politeness. "This is bad
+medicine--this business we're on."
+
+Lablache cleared his throat and spat, but deigned no reply. He intended
+to take no part in the ensuing conversation. He only wished to observe.
+
+Horrocks at once became the officer to the subordinate. He turned
+sharply on the Breed.
+
+"Cut the cackle and come to business. Have you anything to tell us about
+this Retief? Out with it sharp."
+
+"That depends, boss," said the man, with a cunning smile. "As you sez.
+Cut the cackle and come to business. Business means a deal, and a deal
+means 'cash pappy.' Wot's the figger?"
+
+There was no obsequious politeness about the fellow now. He was about as
+bad a specimen of the Breed as could well be found. Hence his late
+employment by the authorities. "The worse the Breed the better the spy,"
+was the motto of those whose duty it was to investigate crime. Gautier
+was an excellent spy, thoroughly unscruplous and rapacious. His
+information was always a saleable commodity, and he generally found his
+market a liberal one. But with business instincts worthy of Lablache
+himself he was accustomed to bargain first and impart after.
+
+"See here," retorted Horrocks, "I don't go about blind-folded. Neither
+am I going to fling bills around without getting value for 'em. What's
+your news? Can you lay hands on Retief, or tell us where the stock is
+hidden?"
+
+"Guess you're looking fer somethin' now," said the man, impudently. "Ef
+I could supply that information right off some 'un 'ud hev to dip deep
+in his pocket fur it. I ken put you on to a good even trail, an' fifty
+dollars 'ud be small pay for the trouble an' the danger I'm put to. Wot
+say? Fifty o' the best greenbacks?"
+
+"Mr. Lablache can pay you if he chooses, but until I know that your
+information's worth it I don't part with fifty cents. Now then, we've
+had dealings before, Gautier--dealings which have not always been to
+your credit. You can trust me to part liberally if you've anything
+worth telling, but mind this, you don't get anything beforehand, and if
+you don't tell us all you know, in you go to Calford and a diet of
+skilly'll be your lot for some time to come."
+
+The man's face lowered considerably at this. He knew Horrocks well, and
+was perfectly aware that he would be as good as his word. There was
+nothing to be gained by holding out. Therefore he accepted the
+inevitable with as bad a grace as possible. Lablache kept silence, but
+he was reading the Breed as he would a book.
+
+"See hyar, sergeant," said Gautier, sulkily, "you're mighty hard on the
+Breeds, an' you know it. It'll come back on you, sure, one o' these
+days. Guess I'm going to play the game square. It ain't fur me to bluff
+men o' your kidney, only I like to know that you're going to treat me
+right. Well, this is what I've got to say, an' it's worth fifty as
+you'll 'low."
+
+Horrocks propped himself upon the corner of the money-lender's desk and
+prepared to listen. Lablache's lashless eyes were fixed with a steady,
+unblinking stare upon the half-breed's face. Not a muscle of his own
+pasty, cruel face moved. Gautier was talking to, at least, one man who
+was more cunning and devilish than himself.
+
+The dusky ruffian gave a preliminary cough and then launched upon his
+story with all the flowery embellishments of which his inventive fancy
+was capable. What he had to tell was practically the same as Horrocks
+had overheard. There were a few items of importance which came fresh to
+the police-officer's ears. It stuck Lablache that the man spoke in the
+manner of a lesson well learned, and, in consequence, his keen interest
+soon relaxed. Horrocks, however, judged differently, and saw in the
+man's story a sound corroboration of his own information. As the story
+progressed his interest deepened, and at its conclusion he questioned
+the half-breed closely.
+
+"This pusky. I suppose it will be the usual drunken orgie?"
+
+"I guess," was the laconic rejoinder.
+
+"Any of the Breeds from the other settlements coming over?"
+
+"Can't say, boss. Like enough, I take it."
+
+"And what is Retief's object in defraying all expenses--in giving the
+treat, when he knows that the white men are after him red-hot?"
+
+"Mebbe it's bluff--cheek. Peter's a bold man. He snaps his fingers at
+the police," replied Gautier, illustrating his words with much
+appreciation. He felt he was getting a smack at the sergeant.
+
+"Then Peter's a fool."
+
+"Guess you're wrong thar. Peter's the slickest 'bad man' I've heerd tell
+of."
+
+"We'll see. Now what about the keg? Of course the cattle have crossed
+it. A secret path?"
+
+"Yup."
+
+"Who knows the secret of it?"
+
+"Peter."
+
+"Only?"
+
+The Breed hesitated. His furtive eyes shifted from one face to the other
+of his auditors. Then encountering the fixed stare of both men he
+glanced away towards the window. He seemed uncomfortable under the mute
+inquiry. Then he went on doubtfully.
+
+"I guess thar's others. It's an old secret among the Breeds. An' I've
+heerd tell as some whites knows it."
+
+A swift exchange of meaning glances passed between the two listeners.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Can't say."
+
+"Won't--you mean?"
+
+"No, boss. Ef I knew it 'ud pay me well to tell. Guess I don't know.
+I've tried to find out."
+
+"Now look you. Retief has always been supposed to have been drowned in
+the keg. Where's he been all the time?"
+
+The half-breed grinned. Then his face became suddenly serious. He began
+to think the cross-questioning was becoming too hot He decided to draw
+on his imagination.
+
+"Peter was no more drowned than I was. He tricked you--us all--into that
+belief. Gee!--but he's slick. Peter went to Montana. When the States got
+too sultry fur 'im he jest came right back hyar. He's been at the camp
+fur two weeks an' more."
+
+Horrocks was silent after this. Then he turned to Lablache.
+
+"Anything you'd like to ask him?"
+
+The money-lender shook his head and Horrocks turned back to his man.
+
+"I guess that's all. Here's your fifty," he went on, taking a roll of
+bills from his pocket and counting out the coveted greenbacks. "See and
+don't get mad drunk and get to shooting. Off you go. If you learn
+anything more I'm ready to pay for it."
+
+Gautier took the bills and hastily crammed them into his pocket as if he
+feared he might be called upon to return them. Then he made for the
+door. He hesitated before he passed out.
+
+"Say, sergeant, you ain't goin' fur to try an' take 'im at the pusky?"
+he asked, with an appearance of anxiety.
+
+"That's my business. Why?"
+
+The Breed shrugged.
+
+"Ye'll feed the coyotes, sure as--kingdom come. Say they'll jest flay
+the pelt off yer."
+
+"Git!"
+
+The rascal "got" without further delay or evil prophecy. He knew
+Horrocks.
+
+When the door closed, and the officer had assured himself of the man's
+departure, he turned to his host.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well?" retorted Lablache.
+
+"What do you make of it?"
+
+"An excellent waste of fifty dollars."
+
+Lablache's face was expressive of indifference mixed with incredulity.
+
+"He told you what you already knew," he pursued, "and drew on his
+imagination for the rest. I'll swear that Retief has not been seen at
+the Breed camp for the last fortnight. Moreover, that man was reciting a
+carefully-thought-out tale. I fancy you have something yet to learn in
+your business, Horrocks. You have not the gift of reading men."
+
+The police-officer's face was a study. As he listened to the masterful
+tone of his companion his color came and went. His dark skin flushed and
+then rapidly paled. A blaze of anger leapt into his keen, flashing eyes.
+Lablache had flicked him sorely. He struggled to keep cool.
+
+"Unfortunately my position will not allow me to fall out with you," he
+said, with scarcely-suppressed heat, "otherwise I should call you
+sharply to account for your insulting remarks. For the moment we will
+pass them over. In the meantime, Mr. Lablache, let me tell you, my
+experience leads me to trust largely to the story of that man. Gautier
+has sold me a good deal of excellent information in the past, and I am
+convinced that what I have now heard is not the least of his efforts in
+the law's behalf. Rascal--scoundrel--as he is, he would not dare to set
+me on a false scent--"
+
+"Not if backed by a man like Retief--and all the half-breed camp? You
+surprise me."
+
+Horrocks gritted his teeth but spoke sharply. Lablache's supercilious
+tone of mockery drove him to the verge of madness.
+
+"Not even under these circumstances. I shall attend that pusky and
+effect the arrest. I understand these people better than you give me
+credit for. I presume your discretion will not permit you to be present
+at the capture?"
+
+It was Horrocks's turn to sneer now. Lablache remained unmoved. He
+merely permitted the ghost of a smile.
+
+"My discretion will not permit me to be present at the pusky. There will
+be no capture, I fear."
+
+"Then I'll bid you good-night. There is no need to further intrude upon
+your time."
+
+"None whatever."
+
+The money-lender did not attempt to show the policeman any
+consideration. He had decided that Horrocks was a fool, and when
+Lablache formed such an opinion of a man he rarely attempted to conceal
+it, especially when the man stood in a subordinate position.
+
+After seeing the officer off the premises, Lablache moved heavily back
+to his desk. The alarm clock indicated ten minutes to nine. He stood for
+some moments gazing with introspective eyes at the timepiece. He was
+thinking hard. He was convinced that what he had just heard was a mere
+fabrication, invented to cover some ulterior motive. That motive puzzled
+him. He had no fear for Horrocks's life. Horrocks wore the uniform of
+the Government. Lawless and all as the Breeds were, he knew they would
+not resist the police--unless, of course, Retief were there. Having
+decided in his mind that Retief would not be there he had no misgivings.
+He failed to fathom the trend of affairs at all. In spite of his outward
+calm he felt uneasy, and he started as though he had been shot when he
+heard a loud knocking at his private door.
+
+The money-lender's hand dropped on to the revolver lying upon the desk,
+and he carried the weapon with him when he went to answer the summons.
+His alarm was needless. His late visitor was "Poker" John.
+
+The old rancher came in sheepishly enough. There was no mistaking the
+meaning of his peculiar crouching gait, the leering upward glance of his
+bloodshot eyes. To any one who did not know him, his appearance might
+have been that of a drink-soaked tramp, so dishevelled and bleared he
+looked. Lablache took in the old man's condition in one swift glance
+from his pouched and fishy eyes. His greeting was cordial--too cordial.
+Any other but the good-hearted, simple old man would have been
+suspicious of it. Cordiality was not Lablache's nature.
+
+"Ah, John, better late than never," he exclaimed gutturally. "Come in
+and have a smoke."
+
+"Yes, I thought I'd just come right down and--see if you'd got any
+news."
+
+"None--none, old friend. Nothing at all. Horrocks is a fool, I'm
+thinking. Take that chair," pointing to the basket chair. "You're not
+looking up to the mark. Have a nip of Glenlivet."
+
+He passed the white-labeled bottle over to his companion, and watched
+the rancher curiously as he shakily helped himself to a liberal "four
+fingers." "Poker" John was rapidly breaking up. Lablache fully realized
+this.
+
+"No news--no news," murmured John, as he smacked his lips over his "tot"
+of whisky. "It's bad, man, very bad. We're not safe in this place whilst
+that man's about. Dear, dear, dear."
+
+The senility of the rancher was painfully apparent. Doubtless it was the
+result of his recent libations and excesses. The money-lender was quite
+aware that John had not come to him to discuss the "hustler." He had
+come to suggest a game of cards, but for reasons of his own the former
+wished to postpone the request. He had not expected that "Poker" John
+would have come this evening; therefore, certain plans of his were not
+to have been put into execution until the following day. Now, however,
+it was different. John's coming, and his condition, offered him a chance
+which was too good to be missed, and Lablache was never a man to miss
+opportunities.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY
+
+
+Presently the old man drew himself up a little. The spirit had a bracing
+effect upon him. The dull leering eyes assumed a momentary brightness,
+and he almost grew cheerful. The change was not lost upon Lablache. It
+was a veritable game of the cat and the mouse.
+
+"This is the first time your stock has been touched," said John,
+meaninglessly. His thoughts were running upon the game of cards he had
+promised himself. An unaccountable lack of something like moral courage
+prevented him talking of it. Possibly it was the iron influence of his
+companion which forbade the suggestion of cards. "Poker" John was
+inwardly chafing at his own weakness.
+
+"Yes," responded the other, "I have not been touched before." Then,
+suddenly, he leant forward, and, for the moment, the money-lender's face
+lit up with something akin to kindliness. It was an unusual sight, and
+one not to be relied upon. "How many years is it, John, that we have
+struggled side by side in this benighted land?"
+
+The rancher looked at the other, then his eyes dropped. He scarcely
+comprehended. He was startled at the expression of that leathery, puffed
+face. He shifted uneasily with the curious weakly restlessness of a
+shattered nerve.
+
+"More years, I guess, than I care to think of," he murmured at last.
+
+"Yes, yes, you're right, John--quite right. It doesn't do to look back
+too far. We're getting on. But we're not old men yet. We're rich, John,
+rich in land and experience. No, not so old. We can still give the
+youngsters points, John. Ha, ha!"
+
+Lablache laughed hollowly at his own pleasantry. His companion joined
+in the laugh, but without mirth. Poker--he could think of nothing but
+poker. The money-lender insinuatingly pushed the whisky bottle closer to
+the senile rancher. Almost unconsciously the old man helped himself.
+
+"I wonder what it would be like living a private, idle life?" Lablache
+went on, as though speaking to himself. Then directly to his companion,
+"Do you know, old friend, I'm seriously thinking of selling out all my
+interests and retiring. I've worked very hard--very hard. I'm getting
+tired of it all. Sometimes I feel that rest would be good. I have
+amassed a very large fortune, John--as you know."
+
+The confidences of the money-lender were so unusual that "Poker" John,
+in a dazed way, mildly wondered. The whisky had roused him a good deal
+now, and he felt that it was good to talk like this. He felt that the
+money-lender was a good fellow, and much better than he had thought. He
+even experienced compunction for the opinions which, at times, he had
+expressed of this old companion. Drink plays strange pranks with one's
+better judgment at times. Lablache noted the effect of his words
+carefully.
+
+"Yes," said John, "you have worked hard--we have both worked hard. Our
+lives have not been altogether without pleasure. The occasional game of
+cards we have had together has always helped to relieve monotony, eh,
+Lablache? Yes--yes. No one can say we have not earned rest. But
+there--yes, you have been more fortunate than I. I could not retire."
+
+Lablache raised his sparse eyebrows. Then he helped himself to some
+whisky and pushed the bottle over to the other. When John had again
+replenished his glass the money-lender solemnly raised his and waved it
+towards the gray-headed old man. John responded unsteadily.
+
+"How!"
+
+"How!" replied the rancher.
+
+Both men drank the old Indian toast. Simple honesty was in one heart,
+while duplicity and low cunning filled the other.
+
+"You could not retire?" said Lablache, when they had set their empty
+glasses upon the desk.
+
+"No--no," answered the other, shaking his head with ludicrous
+mournfulness, "not retire; I have responsibilities--debts. You should
+know. I must pay them off. I must leave Jacky provided for."
+
+"Yes, of course. You must pay them off. Jacky should be your first
+consideration."
+
+Lablache pursed his sensual lips. His expression was one of deep
+concern. Then he apparently fell into a reverie, during which John was
+wondering how best to propose the longed-for game of cards. The other
+roused himself before the desired means suggested itself to the old
+gambler. And his efforts were cut short abruptly.
+
+"Jacky ought to marry," Lablache said without preamble. "One never knows
+what may happen. A good husband--a man with money and business capacity,
+would be a great help to you, and would assure her future."
+
+Lablache had touched upon the one strong point which remained in John
+Allandale's character. His love for Jacky rivaled his passion for poker,
+and in its pure honesty was perhaps nearly as strong as that feverish
+zest. The gambler suddenly became electrified into a different being.
+The signs of decay--the atmosphere of drink, as it were, fell from him
+in the flashing of a second, and the old vigorous rancher, like the last
+dying flame of a fire, shot up into being.
+
+"Jacky shall marry when she chooses, and whatever man she prefers. I
+will never profit by that dear child's matrimonial affairs," he said
+simply.
+
+Lablache bit his lips. He had been slightly premature. He acquiesced
+with a heavy nod of the head and poured himself out some more whisky.
+The example was natural and his companion followed it.
+
+"You are quite right, John. I merely spoke from a worldly point of
+view. But your decision affects me closely."
+
+The other looked curiously at the money-lender, who thus found himself
+forced to proceed. Hitherto he had chosen his own gait. Now he felt
+himself being drawn. The process was new to him, but it suited his
+purpose.
+
+"How?"
+
+Lablache sighed. It was like the breathing of an adipose pig.
+
+"I have known that niece of yours, John, ever since she came into this
+world. I have watched her grow. I understand her nature as well as you
+do yourself. She is a clever, bright, winsome girl. But she needs the
+guiding hand of a good husband."
+
+"Just so. You are right. I am too old to take proper care of her. When
+she chooses she shall marry."
+
+John's tone was decisive. His words were non-committing and open to no
+argument. Lablache went on.
+
+"Supposing now a rich man, a very rich man, proposed marriage for her.
+Presuming he was a man against whom there was no doubtful record--who,
+from a worldly point of view, there could be no objection to--should you
+object to him as a husband for Jacky?"
+
+The rancher was still unsuspecting.
+
+"What I have stated should answer your question. If Jacky were willing I
+should have no objection."
+
+"Supposing," the money-lender went on, "she were unwilling, but was
+content to abide by your decision. What then?"
+
+There was a passing gleam of angry protest in the rancher's eyes as he
+answered.
+
+"What I have said still holds good," he retorted a little hotly. "I will
+not influence the child."
+
+"I am sorry. I wish to marry your girl."
+
+There was an impressive silence after this announcement. "Poker" John
+stared in blank wonderment at his companion. The expectation of such a
+contingency could not have been farther from his thought. Lablache--to
+many his niece--it was preposterous--ludicrous. He would not take it
+seriously--he could not. It was a joke--and not a nice one.
+
+He laughed--and in his laugh there was a ring of anger.
+
+"Of course you are joking, Lablache," he said at last. "Why, man, you
+are old enough to be the girl's father."
+
+"I was never more serious in my life. And as for age," with a shrug, "at
+least you will admit my intellect is unimpaired. Her interests will be
+in safe keeping."
+
+Having recovered from his surprise the old man solemnly shook his head.
+Some inner feeling made him shrink from thoughts of Lablache as a
+husband for his girl. Besides, he had no intention of retreating from
+the stand he had taken.
+
+"As far as I am concerned the matter is quite impossible. If Jacky comes
+to me with a request for sanction of her marriage to you, she shall have
+it. But I will express no wish upon the matter. No, Lablache, I never
+thought you contemplated such a thing. You must go to her. I will not
+interfere. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" and the old man laughed again nervously.
+
+Lablache remained perfectly calm. He had expected this result; although
+he had hoped that it might have been otherwise. Now he felt that he had
+paved the way to methods much dearer to his heart. This refusal of
+John's he intended to turn to account. He would force an acceptance from
+Jacky, and induce her uncle, by certain means, to give his consent.
+
+The money-lender remained silent while he refilled his pipe. "Poker"
+John seized the opportunity.
+
+"Come, Lablache," he said jocosely, "let us forget this little matter.
+Have a drink of your own whisky--I'll join you--and let us go down to
+the saloon for a gentle flutter."
+
+He helped himself to the spirit and poured out a glass for his
+companion. They silently drank, and then Lablache coughed, spat and lit
+his pipe. He fumbled his hat on to his head and moved to the door.
+
+"Come on, then," he said gutturally. And John Allandale followed him
+out.
+
+The two days before the half-breed pusky passed quickly enough for some
+of those who are interested, and dragged their weary lengths all too
+slowly for others. At last, however, in due course the day dawned, and
+with it hopes and fears matured in the hearts of not a few of the
+denizens of Foss River and the surrounding neighborhood.
+
+To all appearance the most unconcerned man was the Hon. Bunning-Ford,
+who still moved about the settlement in his cheery, _débonnaire_
+fashion, ever gentlemanly and always indolent. He had taken up his
+residence in one of the many disused shacks which dotted round the
+market-place, and there, apparently, sought to beguile the hours and eke
+out the few remaining dollars which were his. For Lablache, in his
+sweeping process, had still been forced to hand over some money, over
+and above his due, as a result of the sale of the young rancher's
+property. The trifling amount, however, was less than enough to keep
+body and soul together for six months.
+
+Lablache, too, staunch to his opinions, did not trouble himself in the
+least. For the rest, all who knew of the meditated _coup_ of Horrocks
+were agitated to a degree. All hoped for success, but all agreed in a
+feeling of pessimism which was more or less the outcome of previous
+experiences of Retief. Did not they know, only too well, of the traps
+which had been laid and which had failed to ensnare the daring desperado
+in days gone by? Horrocks they fondly believed to be a very smart man,
+but had not some of the best in the Canadian police been sent before to
+bring to justice this scourge of the district?
+
+Amongst those who shared these pessimistic views Mrs. Abbot was one of
+the most skeptical. She had learnt all the details of the intended
+arrest in the way she learned everything that was going on. A few
+judicious questions to the doctor and careful observations never left
+her long in the dark. She had a natural gift for absorbing information.
+She was a sort of social amalgam which never failed to glean the golden
+particles of news which remained after the "panning up" of daily events
+in Foss River. Nothing ever escaped this dear old soul, from the details
+of a political crisis in a distant part of the continent down to the
+number of drinks absorbed by some worthless half-breed in "old man"
+Smith's saloon. She had one of those keen, active brains which refuses
+to become dull and torpid in an atmosphere of humdrum monotony. Luckily
+her nature never allowed her to become a mischievous busybody. She was
+too kindly for that--too clever, tactful.
+
+After duly weighing the point at issue she found Horrocks's plans
+wanting, hence her unbelief, but, at the same time, her old heart
+palpitated with nervous excitement as might the heart of any younger and
+more hopeful of those in the know.
+
+As for the Allandales, it would be hard to say what they thought. Jacky
+went about her duties with a placidity that was almost worthy of the
+great money-lender himself. She showed no outward sign, and very little
+interest. Her thoughts she kept severely to herself. But she had
+thoughts on the subject, thoughts which teemed through her brain night
+and day. She was in reality aglow with excitement, but the Breed nature
+in her allowed no sign of emotion to appear. "Poker" John was beyond a
+keen interest. Whisky and cards had done for him what morphine and opium
+does for the drug fiend. He had no thoughts beyond them. In lucid
+intervals, as it were, he thought, perhaps, as well as his poor dulled
+brain would permit him, but the result of his mental effort would
+scarcely be worth recording.
+
+And so the time drew near.
+
+Horrocks, since his difference of opinion with Lablache, had made the
+ranch his headquarters, leaving the money-lender as much as possible out
+of his consultations. He had been heartily welcomed by old John and his
+niece, the latter in particular being very gracious to him. Horrocks
+was not a lady's man, but he appreciated comfort when he could get it,
+and Jacky spared no trouble to make him comfortable now. Had he known
+the smiling thought behind her beautiful face his appreciation might
+have lessened.
+
+As the summer day drew to a close signs of coming events began to show
+themselves. First of all Aunt Margaret made her appearance at the
+Allandales' house. She was hot and excited. She had come up for a
+gossip, she said, and promptly sat down with no intention of moving
+until she had heard all she wanted to know. Then came "Lord" Bill,
+cheerily monosyllabic. He always considered that long speeches were a
+disgusting waste of time. Following closely upon his heels came the
+doctor and Pat Nabob, with another rancher from an outlying ranch. Quite
+why they had come up they would have hesitated to say. Possibly it was
+curiosity--possibly natural interest in affairs which nearly affected
+them. Horrocks, they knew, was at the ranch. Perhaps the magnetism which
+surrounds persons about to embark on hazardous undertakings had
+attracted them thither.
+
+As the hour for supper drew near the gathering in the sitting-room
+became considerable, and as each newcomer presented himself, Jacky, with
+thoughtful hospitality, caused another place to be set at her bountiful
+table. No one was ever allowed to pass a meal hour at the ranch without
+partaking of refreshment. It was one of the principal items provided for
+in the prairie creed, and the greatest insult to be offered at such time
+would have been to leave the house before the repast.
+
+At eight o'clock the girl announced the meal with characteristic
+heartiness.
+
+"Come right along and feed," she said. "Who knows what to-night may
+bring forth? I guess we can't do better than drink success to our
+friend, Sergeant Horrocks. Whatever the result of his work to-night we
+all allow his nerve's right. Say, good people, there's liquor on the
+table--and glasses; a bumper to Sergeant Horrocks."
+
+The wording of the girl's remarks was significant. Truly Horrocks might
+have been the leader of a forlorn hope. Many of those present certainly
+considered him to be such. However, they were none the less hearty in
+their toast, and Jacky and Bill were the two first to raise their
+glasses on high.
+
+The toast drunk, tongues were let loose and the supper began. Ten
+o'clock was the time at which Horrocks was to set out. Therefore there
+were two hours in which to make merry. Never was a merrier meal taken at
+the ranch. Spirits were at bursting point, due no doubt to the current
+of excitement which actuated each member of the gathering.
+
+Jacky was in the best of spirits, and even "Poker" John was enjoying one
+of his rare lucid intervals. "Lord" Bill sat between Jacky and Mrs.
+Abbot, and a more charming companion the old lady thought she had never
+met. It was Jacky who led the talk, Jacky who saw to every one's wants,
+Jacky whose spirits cheered everybody, by her light badinage, into, even
+against their better judgment, a feeling of optimism. Even Horrocks felt
+the influence of her bright, winsome cheeriness.
+
+"Capture this colored scoundrel, Sergeant Horrocks," the girl exclaimed,
+with a laughing glance, as she helped him to a goodly portion of baked
+Jack-rabbit, "and we'll present you with the freedom of the settlement,
+in an illuminated address inclosed in a golden casket. That's the mode,
+I take it, in civilized countries, and I guess we are civilized
+hereabout, some. Say, Bill, I opine you're the latest thing from England
+here to-night. What does 'freedom' mean?"
+
+Bill looked dubious. Everybody waited for his answer.
+
+"Freedom--um. Yes, of course--freedom. Why, freedom means banquets. You
+know--turtle soup--bile--indigestion. Best champagne in the mayor's
+cellar. Police can't run you in if you get drunk. All that sort of
+thing, don'tcherknow."
+
+"An excellent definition," laughed the doctor.
+
+"I wish somebody would present me with 'freedom,'" said Nabob,
+plaintively.
+
+"It's a good thing we don't go in for that sort of thing extensively in
+Canada," put in Horrocks, as the representative of the law. "The
+peaceful pastime of the police would soon be taken from them. Why, the
+handling of 'drunks' is our only recreation."
+
+"That, and for some of them the process of lowering four per cent.
+beer," added the doctor, quietly.
+
+Another laugh followed the doctor's sally.
+
+When the mirth had subsided Aunt Margaret shook her head. This levity
+rather got on her nerves. This Retief business, as she understood it,
+was a very serious affair, especially for Sergeant Horrocks. She was
+keenly anxious to hear the details of his preparations. She knew most of
+them, but she liked her information first hand. With this object in view
+she suggested, rather than asked, what she wanted to know.
+
+"But I don't quite understand. I take it you are going single-handed
+into the half-breed camp, where you expect to find this Retief, Sergeant
+Horrocks?"
+
+Horrocks's face was serious as he looked over at the old lady. There was
+no laughter in his black, flashing eyes. He was not a man given to
+suavity. His business effectually crushed any approach to that sort of
+thing. He was naturally a stern man, too.
+
+"I am not quite mad, madam," he said curtly. "I set some value upon my
+life."
+
+This crushing rejoinder had no effect upon Aunt Margaret. She still
+persisted.
+
+"Then, of course, you take your men with you. Four, you have, and smart
+they look, too. I like to see well-set-up men. I trust you will succeed.
+They--I mean the Breeds--are a dangerous people."
+
+"Not so dangerous as they're reckoned, I guess," said Horrocks,
+disdainfully. "I don't anticipate much trouble."
+
+"I hope it will turn out as you think," replied the old lady,
+doubtfully.
+
+Horrocks shrugged his shoulders; he was not to be drawn.
+
+There was a moment's silence after this, which was at length broken by
+"Poker" John.
+
+"Of course, Horrocks," he said, "we shall carry out your instructions to
+the letter. At three in the morning, failing your return or news of you,
+I set out with my ranch hands to find you. And woe betide those black
+devils if you have come to harm. By the way, what about your men?"
+
+"They assemble here at ten. We leave our horses at Lablache's stables.
+We are going to walk to the settlement."
+
+"I think you are wise," said the doctor.
+
+"Guess horses would be an encumbrance," said Jacky.
+
+"An excellent mark for a Breed's gun," added Bill. "Seems to me you'll
+succeed," he went on politely. His eagle face was calmly sincere. The
+gray eyes looked steadily into those of the officer's. Jacky was
+watching her lover keenly. The faintest suspicion of a smile was in her
+eyes.
+
+"I should like to be there," she said simply, when Bill had finished.
+"It's mean bad luck being a girl. Say, d'you think I'd be in the way,
+sergeant?"
+
+Horrocks looked over at her, and in his gaze was a look of admiration.
+In the way he knew she would be, but he could not tell her so. Such
+spirit appealed to him.
+
+"There would be much danger for you, Miss Jacky," he said. "My hands
+would be full, I could not look after you, and besides--" He broke off
+at the recollection of the old stories about this girl. Suddenly he
+wondered if he had been indiscreet. What if the stories were true. He
+ran cold at the thought. These people knew his plans. Then he looked
+into the girl's beautiful face. No, it must be false. She could have
+nothing in common with the rascally Breeds.
+
+"And besides--what?" Jacky said, smiling over at the policeman.
+
+Horrocks shrugged.
+
+"When Breeds are drunk they are not responsible."
+
+"That settles it," the girl's uncle said, with a forced laugh. He did
+not like Jacky's tone. Knowing her, he feared she intended to be there
+to see the arrest.
+
+Her uncle's laugh nettled the girl a little, and with a slight elevation
+of her head, she said,--
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Further talk now became impossible, for, at that moment the troopers
+arrived. Horrocks discovered that it was nearly ten o'clock. The moment
+for the start had come, and, with one accord, everybody rose from the
+table. In the bustle and handshaking of departure Jacky slipped away.
+When, she returned the doctor and Mrs. Abbot were in the hall alone with
+"Lord" Bill. The latter was just leaving. "Poker" John was on the
+veranda seeing Horrocks off.
+
+As Jacky came downstairs Aunt Margaret's eyes fell upon the ominous
+holster and cartridge belt which circled the girl's hips. She was
+dressed for riding. There could be no mistaking the determined set of
+her face.
+
+"Jacky, my dear," said the old lady in dismay. "What are you doing?
+Where are you going?"
+
+"Guess I'm going to see the fun--I've a notion there'll be some."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Don't 'but' me, Aunt Margaret, I take it you aren't deaf."
+
+The old lady relapsed into dignified silence, but there was much concern
+and a little understanding in her eyes as she watched the girl pass out
+to the corrals.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE PUSKY
+
+
+A pusky is a half-breed dance. That is the literal meaning of the word.
+The practical translation, however, is often different. In reality it is
+a debauch--a frightful orgie, when all the lower animal instincts--and
+they are many and strong in the half-breed--are given full sway. When
+drunkenness and bestial passions rule the actions of these worse than
+savages. When murder and crimes of all sorts are committed without
+scruple, without even thought. Latterly things have changed, and these
+orgies are less frequent among the Breeds, or, at least, conducted with
+more regard for decorum. But we are talking of some years ago, at a time
+when the Breeds had to learn the meaning of civilization--before good
+order and government were thoroughly established in this great Western
+country; in the days when Indian "Sun" dances, and other barbarous
+functions were held. In the days of the Red River Jig, when a good
+fiddler of the same was held to be a man of importance; when the method
+of tuning the fiddle to the necessary pitch for the playing of that
+curious dance was a secret known only to a privileged few. Some might
+call them the "good" old days. "Bad" is the adjective which best
+describes that period.
+
+When Horrocks and his men set out for the Breed camp they had discarded
+their police clothes and were clad in the uncouth garb of the
+half-breeds. They had even gone to the length of staining their faces to
+the coppery hue of the Indians. They were a ragged party, these hardy
+riders of the plains, as they embarked on their meditated capture of the
+desperate raider. All of the five were "tough" men, who regarded their
+own lives lightly enough--men who had seen many stirring times, and
+whose hairbreadth escapes from "tight" corners would have formed a
+lengthy narrative in themselves. They were going to they knew not what
+now, but they did not shrink from the undertaking. Their leader was a
+man whose daring often outweighed his caution, but, as they well knew,
+he was endowed with a reckless man's luck, and they would sooner follow
+such as he--for they were sure of a busy time--than work with one of his
+more prudent colleagues.
+
+At the half-breed camp was considerable bustle and excitement. The
+activity of the Breed is not proverbial; they are at best a lazy lot,
+but now men and women came and went bristling with energy to their
+finger tips. Preparations were nearing completion. The chief item of
+importance was the whisky supply, and this the treasurer, Baptiste, had
+made his personal care. A barrel of the vilest "rot-gut" that was ever
+smuggled into prohibition territory had been procured and carefully
+secreted. This formed the chief refreshment, and, doubtless, the
+"bluestone" with which its fiery contents were strengthened, would work
+the passionate natures, on which it was to play, up to the proper
+crime-committing pitch.
+
+The orgie was to be held in a barn of considerable dimensions. It was a
+ramshackle affair, reeking of old age and horses. The roof was decidedly
+porous in places, being so lame and disjointed that the starry
+resplendence of the summer sky was plainly visible from beneath it.
+
+This, however, was a trifling matter, and of much less consequence than
+the question of space. What few horse stalls had once occupied the
+building had been removed, and the mangers alone remained, with the odor
+of horse, to remind the guests of the original purpose of their
+ballroom. A careful manipulation of dingy Turkey red, and material which
+had once been white, struggled vainly to hide these mangers from view,
+while coarse, rough boards which had at one time floored some of the
+stalls, served to cover in the tops and convert them into seats. The
+result was a triumph of characteristic ingenuity. The barn was converted
+into a place of the necessary requirements, but rendered hideous in the
+process.
+
+Next came the disguising of the rafters and "collar-ties" of the
+building. This was a process which lent itself to the curiously warped
+artistic sense of the benighted people. Print--I mean cotton rags--was
+the chief idea of decoration. They understood these stuffs. They were
+cheap--or, at least, as cheap as anything sold at Lablache's store.
+Besides, print decorated the persons of the buxom Breed women, therefore
+what more appropriate than such stuff to cover the nakedness of the
+building. Festoons of print, flags of print, rosettes of print: these
+did duty for the occasion. The staring patterns gleamed on every beam,
+or hung in bald draping almost down to the height of an ordinary man's
+head. The effect was strangely reminiscent of a second-hand clothes
+shop, and helped to foster the nauseating scent of the place.
+
+A row of reeking oil lamps, swinging in crazy wire swings, were
+suspended down the center from the moldering beams, and in the diamond
+window spaces were set a number of black bottles, the neck of each being
+stuffed with a tallow candle.
+
+One corner of the room was set apart for the fiddler, and here a daïs of
+rough boarding, also draped in print stuff, was erected to meet the
+requirements of that honored personage. Such was the uncouth place where
+the Breeds proposed to hold their orgie. And of its class it was an
+excellent example.
+
+At ten o'clock the barn was lit up, and strangely bizarre was the
+result. The draught through the broken windows set the candles
+a-guttering, until rivers of yellow fat decorated the black bottles in
+which they were set. The stench from these, and from the badly-trimmed
+coal oil lamps down the center, blended disgustingly with the native
+odor of the place, until the atmosphere became heavy, pungent, revolting
+in the nostrils, and breathing became a labor after the sweet fresh air
+of the prairie outside.
+
+Soon after this the dancers began to arrive. They came in their strange
+deckings of glaring colors, and many and varied were the types which
+soon filled the room. There were old men and there were young men. There
+were girls in their early teens, and toothless hags, decrepit and
+faltering. Faces which, in wild loveliness, might have vied with the
+white beauty of the daughters of the East. Faces seared and crumpled
+with weight of years and nights of debauchery. Men were there of superb
+physique, whilst others crouched huddled, with shuffling gait towards
+the manger seats, to seek rest for their rotting bones, and ease for
+their cramping muscles.
+
+Many of the faces were marred by disease; small-pox was a prevalent
+scourge amongst these people. The effect of the pure air of the prairie
+was lost upon the germ-laden atmosphere which surrounded these dreadful
+camps. Crime, too, was stamped on many of the faces of those gathering
+in the reeking ballroom. The small bullet head with low, receding
+forehead; the square set jaws and sagging lips; the shifty, twinkling
+little eyes, narrow-set and of jetty hue; such faces were plentiful. Nor
+were these features confined to the male sex alone. Truly it was a
+motley gathering, and not pleasant to look upon.
+
+All, as they came, were merry with anticipation; even the hags and the
+rheumatism-ridden male fossils croaked out their quips and coarse
+pleasantries to each other with gleeful unctuousness, inspired by
+thoughts of the generous contents of the secreted barrel. Their watery
+eyes watered the more, as, on entering the room, they glanced round
+seeking to discover the fiery store of liquor, which they hoped to help
+to dispose of. It was a loathsome sight to behold these miserable
+wretches gathering together with no thought in their beast-like brains
+but of the ample food and drink which they intended should fall to their
+share. Crabbed old age seeking rejuvenation in gut-burning spirit.
+
+The room quickly filled, and the chattering of many and strange tongues
+lent an apish tone to the function. The French half-breed predominated,
+and these spoke their bastard lingo with that rapidity and bristling
+elevation of tone which characterizes their Gallic relatives. It seemed
+as though each were trying to talk his neighbor down, and the process
+entailed excited shriekings which made the old barn ring again.
+
+Baptiste, with a perfect understanding of the people, served out the
+spirit in pannikins with a lavish hand. It was as well to inspire these
+folk with the potent liquor from the start, that their energies might be
+fully aroused for the dance.
+
+When all, men and women alike, had partaken of an "eye-opener," Baptiste
+gave the signal, and the fiddler struck up his plaintive wail. The reedy
+strings of his instrument shrieked out the long-drawn measure of a
+miserable waltz, the company paired off, and the dance began.
+
+Whatever else may be the failings of the Breeds they can dance. Dancing
+is as much a part of their nature as is the turning of a dog twice
+before he lies down, a feature of the canine race. Those who were
+physically incapable of dancing lined the walls and adorned the manger
+seats. For the rest, they occupied the sanded floor, and danced until
+the dust clouded the air and added to the choking foulness of the
+atmosphere.
+
+The shrieking fiddle lured this savage people, and its dreadful tone was
+music of the sweetest to their listening ears. This was a people who
+would dance. They would dance so long as they could stand.
+
+More drink followed the first dance. Baptiste had not yet recognized the
+pitch of enthusiasm which must promise a successful evening. The
+quantities of liquor thus devoured were appalling. The zest increased.
+The faces wearing an habitual frown displayed a budding smile. The
+natural smiler grinned broadly. All warmed to the evening's amusement.
+
+Now came the festive barn dance. The moccasined feet pounded the filthy
+floor, and the dust gathered thick round the gums of the hard-breathing
+dancers. The noise of coarse laughter and ribald shoutings increased.
+All were pleased with themselves, but more pleased still with the fiery
+liquid served out by Baptiste. The scene grew more wild as time crept
+on, and the effect of the liquor made itself apparent. The fiddler
+labored cruelly at his wretched instrument. His task was no light one,
+but he spared himself no pains. His measure must be even, his tone
+almost unending to satisfy his countrymen. He understood them, as did
+Baptiste. To fail in his work would mean angry protests from those he
+served, and angry protests amongst the Breeds generally took the form of
+a shower of leaden bullets. So he scraped away with aching limbs, and
+with heavy foot pounding out the time upon the crazy daïs. He must play
+until long after daylight, until his fingers cramped, and his old eyes
+would remain open no longer.
+
+Peter Retief had not as yet put in an appearance. Horrocks was at his
+post viewing the scene from outside one of the broken windows. His men
+were hard by, concealed at certain points in the shelter of some
+straggling bush which surrounded the stable. Horrocks, with
+characteristic energy and disregard for danger, had set himself the task
+of spying out the land. He had a waiting game to play, but the result he
+hoped would justify his action.
+
+The scene he beheld was not new to him, his duties so often carried him
+within the precincts of a half-breed camp. No one knew the Breeds better
+than did this police officer.
+
+Time passed. Again and again the fiddle ceased its ear-maddening screams
+as refreshment was partaken of by the dancers. Wilder and wilder grew
+the scene as the potent liquor took hold of its victims. They danced
+with more and more reckless abandon as each time they returned to step
+it to the fiddler's patient measure. Midnight approached and still no
+sign of Retief. Horrocks grew restless and impatient.
+
+Once the fiddle ceased, and the officer watching saw all eyes turn to
+the principal entrance to the barn. His heart leapt in anticipation as
+he gazed in the direction. Surely this sudden cessation could only
+herald the coming of Retief.
+
+He saw the door open as he craned forward to look. For the moment he
+could not see who entered; a crowd obscured his view. He heard a cheer
+and a clapping of hands, and he rejoiced. Then the crowd parted and he
+saw the slim figure of a girl pass down the center of the reeking den.
+She was clad in buckskin shirt and dungaree skirt. At the sight he
+muttered a curse. The newcomer was Jacky Allandale.
+
+He watched her closely as she moved amongst her uncouth surroundings.
+Her beautiful face and graceful figure was like to an oasis of stately
+flora in a desert of trailing, vicious brambles, and he marveled at the
+familiarity with which she came among these people. Moreover, he became
+beset with misgivings as he remembered the old stories which linked this
+girl's name with that of Retief. He struggled to fathom the meaning of
+what he saw, but the real significance of her coming escaped him.
+
+The Breeds once more returned to their dancing, and all went on as
+before. Horrocks followed Jacky's movements with his eyes. He saw her
+standing beside a toothless old woman, who wagged her cunning, aged head
+as she talked in answer to the girl's questions. Jacky seemed to be
+looking and inquiring for some one, and the officer wondered if the
+object of her solicitude was Retief. He would have been surprised had he
+known that she was inquiring and looking for himself. Presently she
+seated herself and appeared to be absorbed in the dance.
+
+The drink was flowing freely now, and a constant demand was being made
+upon Baptiste. Whilst the fiery spirit scorched down the hardened
+throats, strange, weird groans came from the fiddler's woeful
+instrument. The old man was tuning it down for the plaintive
+requirements of the Red River Jig.
+
+The dance of the evening was about to begin. Men and women primed
+themselves for the effort. Each was eager to outdo his or her neighbor
+in variety of steps and power of endurance. All were prepared to do or
+die. The mad jig was a national contest, and the one who lasted the
+longest would be held the champion dancer of the district--a coveted
+distinction amongst this strange people.
+
+At last the music began again, and now the familiar "Ragtime" beat
+fascinatingly upon the air. Those who lined the walls took up the
+measure, and, with foot and clapping hands, marked the time for the
+dancers. Those who competed leapt to the fray, and soon the reeking room
+became stifling with dust.
+
+The fiddler's time, slow at the commencement, soon grew faster, and the
+dancers shook their limbs in delighted anticipation. Faster and faster
+they shuffled and jigged, now opposite to partners, now round each
+other, now passing from one partner to another, now alone, for the
+admiration of the onlookers. Nor was there pause or hesitation. An
+instant's pause meant dropping out of that mad and old time "hoe-down,"
+and each coveted the distinction of champion. Faster and more wildly
+they footed it, and soon the speed caused some of the less agile to drop
+out. It was a giddy sight to watch, and the strange clapping of the
+spectators was not the least curious feature of the scene.
+
+The crowd of dancers grew thinner as the fiddler, with a marvelous
+display of latent energy, kept ever-increasing his speed.
+
+In spite of himself Horrocks became fascinated. There was something so
+barbarous--heathenish--in what he beheld. The minutes flew by, and the
+dance was rapidly nearing its height. More couples fell out, dead beat
+and gasping, but still there remained a number who would fight it out to
+the bitter end. The streaming faces and gaping lips of those yet
+remaining told of the dreadful strain. Another couple dropped out, the
+woman actually falling with exhaustion. She was dragged aside and left
+unnoticed in the wild excitement. Now were only three pairs left in the
+center of the floor.
+
+The police-officer found himself speculating as to which would be the
+winner of the contest.
+
+"That brown-faced wench, with the flaming red dress, 'll do 'em all," he
+said to himself. The woman he was watching had a young Breed of great
+agility for her _vis-à-vis_. "She or her partner 'll do it," he went on,
+almost audibly. "Good," he was becoming enthusiastic, "there's another
+couple done," as two more suddenly departed, and flung themselves on the
+ground exhausted. "Yes, they'll do it--crums, but there goes her
+partner! Keep it up, girl--keep it up. The others won't be long. Stay
+with--"
+
+He broke off in alarm as he felt his arm suddenly clutched from behind.
+Simultaneously he felt heavy breathing blowing upon his cheek. Quick as
+a flash his revolver was whipped out and he swung round.
+
+"Easy, sergeant," said the voice of one of his troopers. "For Gawd's
+sake don't shoot. Say, Retief's down at the settlement. A messenger's
+jest come up to say he's 'hustled' all our horses from Lablache's
+stable, and the old man himself's in trouble. Come over to that bluff
+yonder, the messenger's there. He's one of Lablache's clerks."
+
+The police-officer was dumbfounded, and permitted himself to be
+conducted to the bluff without a word. He was wondering if he were
+dreaming, so sudden and unexpected was the announcement of the disaster.
+
+When he halted at the bluff, the clerk was still discussing the affair
+with one of the troopers. As yet the other two were in their places of
+concealment, and were in ignorance of what had happened.
+
+"It's dead right," the clerk said, in answer to Horrocks's sharply-put
+inquiry. "I'd been in bed sometime when I was awakened by a terrible
+racket going on in the office. It's just under the room I sleep in.
+Well, I hopped out of bed and slipped on some clothes, and went
+downstairs, thinking the governor had been taken with a fit or
+something. When I got down the office was in darkness, and quiet as
+death. I went cautiously to work, for I was a bit scared. Striking a
+light I made my way in, expecting to find the governor laid out, but,
+instead, I found the furniture all chucked about and the room empty. It
+wasn't two shakes before I lit upon this sheet of paper. It was lying on
+the desk. The governor's writing is unmistakable. You can see for
+yourself; here it is--"
+
+Horrocks took the sheet, and, by the light of a match read the scrawl
+upon it. The writing had evidently been done in haste, but its meaning
+was clear.
+
+"Retief is here," it ran. "I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.
+LABLACHE."
+
+After reading, Horrocks turned to the clerk, who immediately went on
+with his story.
+
+"Well, I just bolted out to the stables intending to take a horse and go
+over to 'Poker' John's. But when I got there I found the doors open, an'
+every blessed horse gone. Yes, your horses as well--and the governor's
+buckboard too. I jest had a look round, saw that the team harness had
+gone with the rest, then I ran as hard as I could pelt to the Foss River
+Ranch. I found old John up, but he'd been drinking, so, after a bit of
+talk, I learned from him where you were and came right along. That's
+all, sergeant, and bad enough it is too. I'm afraid they'll string the
+governor up. He ain't too popular, you know."
+
+The clerk finished up his breathless narrative in a way that left no
+doubt in the mind of his hearers as to his sincerity. He was trembling
+with nervous excitement still. And even in the starlight the look upon
+his face spoke of real concern for his master.
+
+For some seconds the officer did not reply. He was thinking rapidly. To
+say that he was chagrined would hardly convey his feelings. He had been
+done--outwitted--and he knew it. Done--like the veriest tenderfoot. He,
+an officer of wide experience and of considerable reputation. And worst
+of all he remembered Lablache's warning. He, the money-lender, had been
+more far-seeing--had understood something of the trap which he,
+Horrocks, had plunged headlong into. The thought was as worm-wood to the
+prairie man, and helped to cloud his judgment as he now sought for the
+best course to adopt. He saw now with bitter, mental self-reviling, how
+the story that Gautier had told him--and for which he had paid--and
+which had been corroborated by the conversation he had heard in the
+camp, had been carefully prepared by the wily Retief; and how he, like a
+hungry, simple fish, had deliberately risen and devoured the bait. He
+was maddened by the thought, too, that the money-lender had been right
+and he wrong, and took but slight solace from the fact that the chief
+disaster had overtaken that great man.
+
+However, it was plain that something must be done at once to assist
+Lablache, and he cast about in his mind for the best means to secure the
+money-lender's release. In his dilemma a recollection came to him of the
+presence of Jacky Allandale in the barn, and a feeling nearly akin to
+revenge came to him. He felt that in some way this girl was connected
+with, and knew of, the doings of Retief.
+
+With a hurried order to remain where they were to his men he returned to
+his station at the window of the barn. He looked in, searching for the
+familiar figure of the girl. Dancing had ceased, and the howling Breeds
+were drinking heavily. Jacky was no longer to be seen, and, with bitter
+disappointment, he turned again to rejoin his companions. There was
+nothing left to do but to hasten to the settlement and procure fresh
+horses.
+
+He had hardly turned from the window when several shots rang out on the
+night air. They came from the direction in which he was moving.
+Instantly he comprehended that an attack was being made upon his
+troopers. He drew his pistol and dashed forward at a run. Three paces
+sufficed to terminate his race. Silence had followed the firing of the
+shots he had heard. Suddenly his quick ears detected the hiss of a
+lariat whistling through the air. He spread out his arms to ward it off.
+He felt something fall upon them. He tried to throw it off, and, the
+next instant the rope jerked tight round his throat, and he was hurled,
+choking, backwards upon the ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR
+
+
+Lablache was alone in his office. He was more alone than he had ever
+been in his life; or, at least, he felt more alone--which amounted to
+much the same thing. Possibly, had he been questioned on the subject, he
+would have pooh-poohed the idea, but, nevertheless, in his secret heart
+he felt that, in spite of his vast wealth, he was a lonely man. He knew
+that he had not a single friend in Foss River; and in Calford, another
+center of his great wealth, things were no better. His methods of
+business, whilst they brought him many familiar acquaintances--a large
+circle of people who were willing to trade, repelled all approach to
+friendship. Besides, his personality was against him. His flinty
+disposition and unscrupulous love of power were all detrimental to human
+affection.
+
+As a rule, metaphorically speaking, he snapped his fingers at these
+things. Moreover, he was glad that such was the case; he could the more
+freely indulge his passion for grab. Hated, he could work out his
+peculiar schemes without qualms of conscience; loved, it would have been
+otherwise. Yes, Lablache preferred this social ostracism.
+
+But the great money-lender had his moments of weakness--moments when he
+rebelled against his solitary lot. He knew that his isolated position
+had been brought about by himself--fostered by himself, and he knew he
+preferred that it should be so. But, nevertheless, at times he felt very
+lonely, and in these moments of weakness he wondered if he obtained full
+consolation in his great wealth for his marooned position. Generally the
+result of these reflections brought him satisfaction. How? is a
+question. Possibly he forced himself, by that headstrong power with
+which he bent others who came into contact with him to his will, to such
+a conclusion. Lablache was certainly a triumph of relentless purpose
+over flesh and feelings.
+
+Lablache was nearly fifty, and had lived alone since he was in his
+teens. Now he pined as all who live a solitary life must some day pine,
+for a companion to share his loneliness. He craved not for the society
+of his own sex. With the instinct in us all he wanted a mate to share
+with him his golden nest. But this mass of iron nerve and obesity was
+not as other men. He did not weakly crave, and then, with his wealth,
+set out to secure a wife who could raise him in the social scale, or add
+to the bags which he had watched grow in bulk from flattened folds of
+sacking, to the distended proportions of miniature balloons. No, he
+desired a girl, the only relation of a man whom he had helped to ruin--a
+girl who could bring him no social distinction, and who could not add
+one penny piece to his already enormous wealth. Moreover, strangely
+enough, he had conceived for her a passion which was absolutely unholy
+in its intensity. It is needless, then, to add, when, speaking of such a
+man, that, willing or not, he intended that Jacky Allandale should be
+his.
+
+Thoughts of this wild, quarter-breed girl filled his brain as he sat
+solitary in his little office on the night of the pusky. He sat in his
+favorite chair, in his favorite position. He was lounging back with his
+slippered feet resting on the burnished steel foot-rests of the stove.
+There was no fire in the stove, of course, but from force of habit he
+gazed thoughtfully at the mica sides which surrounded the firebox.
+Probably in this position he had thought out some of his most dastardly
+financial schemes and therefore most suitable it seemed now as he
+calculated his chances of capturing the wild prairie girl for his mate.
+
+He had given up all thoughts of ever obtaining her willing consent, and,
+although his vanity had been hurt by her rejection of his advances,
+still he was not the man to be easily thwarted. His fertile brain had
+evolved a means by which to achieve his end, and, to his scheme-loving
+nature, the process was anything but distasteful. He had always, from
+the first moment he had decided to make Jacky Allandale his wife, been
+prepared for such a contingency as her refusal, and had never missed an
+opportunity of ensnaring her uncle in his financial toils. He had
+understood the old man's weakness, and, with satanic cunning, had set
+himself to the task of wholesale robbery, with crushing results to his
+victim. This had given him the necessary power to further prosecute his
+suit. As yet he had not displayed his hand. He felt that the time was
+barely ripe. Before putting the screw on the Allandales it had been his
+object to rid the place, and his path, of his only stumbling block. In
+this he had not quite succeeded as we have seen. He quite understood
+that the Hon. Bunning-Ford must be removed from Foss River first. Whilst
+he was on hand Jacky would be difficult to coerce. Instinctively he knew
+that "Lord" Bill was her lover, and, with him at hand to advise her,
+Jacky would hold out to the last. However, he believed that in the end
+he must conquer. Bunning-Ford's resources were very limited he knew, and
+soon his hated rival must leave the settlement and seek pastures new.
+Lablache was but a clever scheming mortal. He did not credit others with
+brains of equal caliber, much less cleverer and more resourceful than
+his own. It had been better for him had his own success in life been
+less assured, for then he would have been more doubtful of his own
+ability to do as he wished, and he would have given his adversaries
+credit for a cleverness which he now considered as only his.
+
+After some time spent in surveying and considering his plans his
+thoughts reverted to other matters. This was the night of the half-breed
+pusky. His great face contorted into a sarcastic smile as he thought of
+Sergeant Horrocks. He remembered with vivid acuteness every incident of
+his interview with the officer two nights ago. He bore the man no
+malice now for the contradiction of himself, for the reason that he was
+sure his own beliefs on the subject of Retief would be amply realized.
+His lashless eyes quivered as his thoughts invoked an inward mirth. No
+one realized more fully than did this man the duplicity and cunning of
+the Breed. He anticipated a great triumph over Horrocks the next time he
+saw him.
+
+As the time passed on he became more himself. His loneliness did not
+strike him so keenly. He felt that after all there was great
+satisfaction to be drawn from a watcher's observance of men. Isolated as
+he was he was enabled to look on men and things more critically than he
+otherwise would be.
+
+He reached over to his tobacco jar, which stood upon his desk, and
+leisurely proceeded to fill his pipe. It was rarely he indulged himself
+in an idle evening, but to-night he somehow felt that idleness would be
+good. He was beginning to feel the weight of his years.
+
+He lit his heavy briar and proceeded to envelop himself in a cloud of
+smoke. He gasped out a great sigh of satisfaction, and his leathery
+eyelids half closed. Presently a gentle tap came at the glass door,
+which partitioned off the office from the store. Lablache called out a
+guttural "Come in," at the same time glancing at the loud ticking
+"alarm" on the desk. He knew who his visitor was.
+
+One of the clerks opened the door.
+
+"It is past ten, sir, shall I close up?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, close up. Whose evening off is it?"
+
+"Rodgers, sir. He is still out. He'll be in before midnight, sir."
+
+"Ah, down at the saloon, I expect," said Lablache, drily. "Well, bolt
+the front door. Just leave it on the spring latch. I shall be up until
+he comes in. What are you two boys going to do?"
+
+"Going to bed, sir."
+
+"All right; good-night."
+
+"Good-night, sir."
+
+The door closed quietly after the clerk, and Lablache heard his two
+assistants close up the store and then go upstairs to their rooms. The
+money-lender was served well. His employees in the store had been with
+him for years. They were worked very hard and their pay was not great,
+but their money was sure, and their employment was all the year round.
+So many billets upon the prairie depended upon the seasons--opulence one
+month and idleness the next. On the ranches it was often worse. There is
+but little labor needed in the winter. And those who have the good
+fortune to be employed all the year round generally experience a
+reduction in wages at the end of the fall round-up, and find themselves
+doing the "chores" when winter comes on.
+
+After the departure of the clerk Lablache re-settled himself and went on
+smoking placidly. The minutes ticked slowly away. An occasional groan
+from the long-suffering basket chair, and the wreathing clouds of smoke
+were the only appreciable indication of life in that little room.
+By-and-by the great man reached a memorandum tablet from his desk and
+dotted down a few hurried figures. Then he breathed a great sigh, and
+his face wore a look of satisfaction. There could be no doubt as to the
+tenor of his thoughts. Money, money. It was as life to him.
+
+The distant rattle of the spring lock of the store front door being
+snapped-to disturbed the quiet of the office. Lablache heard the sound.
+Then followed the bolting of the door. The money-lender turned again to
+his figures. It was the return of Rodgers, he thought, which had
+disturbed him. He soon became buried in further calculations. While
+figuring he unconsciously listened for the sound of the clerk's
+footsteps on the stairs as he made his way up to his room. The sound did
+not come. The room was clouded with tobacco smoke, and still Lablache
+belched out fresh clouds to augment the reek of the atmosphere. Suddenly
+the glass door opened. The money-lender heard the handle move.
+
+"Eh, what is it, Rodgers?" he said, in a displeased tone. As he spoke
+he peered through the smoke.
+
+"What d'you want?" he exclaimed angrily. Then he rubbed his eyes and
+craned forward only to fall back again with a muttered curse. He had
+stared into the muzzle of a heavy six-shooter.
+
+He moved his hand as though to throw his memorandum pad on the desk, but
+instantly a stern voice ordered him to desist and the threatening
+revolver came closer.
+
+"Jest stay right thar, pard." The words were spoken in an exaggerated
+Western drawl. "My barker's mighty light in the trigger. I guess it
+don't take a hundred-weight to loose it. And I don't cotton to mucking
+up this floor with yer vitals."
+
+Lablache remained still. He saw before him the tall thin figure of a
+half-breed. He had black lank hair which hung loosely down almost on to
+his shoulders. His face was the color of mud, and he was possessed of a
+pair of keen gray eyes and a thin-hooked nose. His face wore a lofty
+look of command, and was stamped by an expression of the unmost
+resolution. He spoke easily and showed not the smallest haste.
+
+"Guess we ain't met before, boss--not familiar-like, leastways. My
+name's Retief--Peter Retief, an' I take it yours is Lablache. Now I've
+jest come right along to do biz with you--how does that fit your
+bowels?"
+
+The compelling ring of metal faced the astonished money-lender. For the
+moment he remained speechless.
+
+"Wal?" drawled the other, with elaborate significance.
+
+Lablache struggled for words. His astonishment--dismay made the effort a
+difficult one.
+
+"You've got the drop on me you--you damned scoundrel," he at last burst
+out, his face for the moment purpling with rage. "I'm forced to listen
+to you now," he went on more gutturally, as the paroxysm having found
+vent began to pass, "but watch yourself that you make no bad reckoning,
+or you'll regret this business until the rope's round your neck. You'll
+get nothing out of me--but what you take. Now then, be sharp. What are
+you going to do?"
+
+The half-breed grinned.
+
+"You're mighty raw oh the hide jest now, I guess. But see hyar, my
+reckonin's are nigh as slick as yours. An' jest slant yer tongue some.
+'Damned scoundrel' sliden' from yer flannel face is like a coyote
+roundin' on a timber wolf, an' a coyote ain't as low down as a skunk. I
+opine I want a deal from you," Retief went on, with a hollow laugh, "and
+wot I want I mostly git, in these parts."
+
+Lablache was no coward. And even now he had not the smallest fear for
+his life. But the thought of being bluffed by the very man he was
+willing to pay so much for the capture of riled him almost beyond
+endurance. The Breed noted the effect of his words and pushed his pistol
+almost to within arm's reach of the money-lender's face.
+
+The half-breed's face suddenly became stem.
+
+"That's a dandy ranch of yours down south. Me an' my pards 'ave taken a
+notion to it. Say, you're comin' right along with us. Savee? Guess we'll
+show you the slickest round up this side o' the border. Now jest sit
+right thar while I let my mates in."
+
+Retief took no chances. Lablache, under pistol compulsion, was forced to
+remain motionless in his chair. The swarthy Breed backed cautiously to
+the door until his hand rested upon the spring catch. This, with deft
+fingers, he turned and then forced back, and the next moment he was
+joined by two companions as dark as himself and likewise dressed in the
+picturesque garb of the prairie "hustler." The money-lender, in spite of
+his predicament, was keenly alert, and lost no detail of the new-comers'
+appearance. He took a careful mental photograph of each of the men,
+trusting that he might find the same useful in the future. He wondered
+what the next move would be. He eyed the Breed's pistol furtively, and
+thought of his own weapon lying on his desk at the corner farthest from
+him. He knew there was no possible chance of reaching it. The slightest
+unbidden move on his part would mean instant death. He understood, only
+too well, how lightly human, life was held by these people. Implicit
+obedience alone could save him. In those few thrilling moments he had
+still time to realize the clever way in which both he and Horrocks had
+been duped. He had never for a moment believed in Gautier's story, but
+had still less dreamed of such a daring outrage as was now being
+perpetrated. He had not long to wait for developments. Directly the two
+men were inside, and the door was again closed, Retief pointed to the
+money-lender.
+
+"Hustle, boys--the rope. Lash his feet."
+
+One of the men produced an old lariat In a trice the great man's feet
+were fast.
+
+"His hands?" said one of the men.
+
+"Guess not. He's goin' to write, some."
+
+Lablache instantly thought of his cheque-book. But Retief had no fancy
+for what he considered was useless paper.
+
+The hustler stepped over to the desk. His keen eyes spotted the
+money-lender's pistol lying upon the far corner of it. He had also noted
+his prisoner casting furtive glances in the direction of it. To prevent
+any mischance he picked the gleaming weapon up and slipped it into his
+hip pocket. After that he drew a sheet of foolscap from the stationery
+case and laid it on the blotting pad. Then he turned to his comrades.
+
+"Jest help old money-bags over," he said quietly. He was thoroughly
+alert, and as calmly indifferent to the danger of discovery as if he
+were engaged on the most righteous work.
+
+When Lablache had been hoisted and pushed into position at the desk the
+raider took up a pen and held it out towards him.
+
+"Write," he said laconically.
+
+Lablache hesitated. He looked from the pen to the man's leveled pistol.
+Then he reluctantly took the pen. The half-breed promptly dictated, and
+the other wrote. The compulsion was exasperating, and the great man
+scrawled with all the pettishness of a child.
+
+The message read--
+
+"Retief is here. I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed."
+
+"Now sign," said the Breed, when the message was written.
+
+Lablache signed and flung down the pen.
+
+"What's that for?" he demanded huskily.
+
+"For?" His captor shrugged. "I guess them gophers of police are snugly
+trussed by now. Mebbe, though, one o' them might 'a' got clear away.
+When they find you're gone, they'll light on that paper. I jest want 'em
+to come right along after us. Savee? It'll 'most surprise 'em when they
+come along." Then he turned to his men. "Now, boys, lash his hands, and
+cut his feet adrift. Then, into the buckboard with him. Guess his
+carcase is too bulky for any 'plug' to carry. Get a hustle on, lads.
+We've hung around here long enough."
+
+The men stepped forward to obey their chief, but, at that moment,
+Lablache gave another display of that wonderful agility of his of which,
+at times, he was capable. His rage got the better of him, and even under
+the muzzle of his captor's pistol he was determined to resist. We have
+said that the money-lender was no coward; at that moment he was
+desperate.
+
+The nearest Breed received a terrific buffet in the neck, then, in spite
+of his bound feet, Lablache seized his heavy swivel chair, and, raising
+it with all his strength he hurled it at the other. Still Relief's
+pistol was silent. The money-lender noticed the fact, and he became even
+more assured. He turned heavily and aimed a blow at the "hustler." But,
+even as he struck, he felt the weight of Retief's hand, and struggling
+to steady himself--his bound feet impeding him--he overbalanced and fell
+heavily to the ground. In an instant the Breeds were upon him. His own
+handkerchief was used to gag him, and his hands were secured. Then,
+without a moment's delay, he was hoisted from the floor--his great
+weight bearing his captors down--and carried bodily out of the office
+and thrown into his own buckboard, which was waiting at the door. Retief
+sprang into the driving seat whilst one of the Breeds held the prisoner
+down, some other dark figures leapt into the saddles of several waiting
+horses, and the party dashed off at a breakneck speed.
+
+The gleaming stars gave out more than sufficient light for the desperate
+teamster. He swung the well-fed, high-mettled horses of the money-lender
+round, and headed right through the heart of the settlement. The
+audacity of this man was superlative. He lashed the animals into a
+gallop which made the saddle horses extend themselves to keep up. On, on
+into the night they raced, and almost in a flash the settlement was
+passed. The sleepy inhabitants of Foss River heard the mad racing of the
+horses but paid no heed. The daring of the raider was his safeguard.
+
+Lablache knew their destination. They were traveling southward, and he
+felt that their object was his own ranch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A NIGHT OF TERROR
+
+
+That midnight drive was one long nightmare to the unfortunate captive.
+He had been thrown, sprawling, into the iron-railed "carryall" platform
+at the back of the buckboard, and lay on the nut-studded slats, where he
+was jolted and bumped about like the proverbial pea on a drum.
+
+When the raider changed his direction, and turned off the trail on to
+the open prairie, the horrors of the prisoner's position were
+intensified a hundredfold. Alone, there was insufficient room for the
+suffering man in the limited space of the "carryall," but beside him
+sat, or rather crouched, a burly Breed, ready at a moment's notice to
+quash any attempt at escape on the part of the wretched money-lender.
+
+Thus he was borne along, mile after mile, southward towards his own
+ranch. Sometimes during that terrible ride Lablache found time to wonder
+what was the object of these people in thus kidnapping him. Surely if
+they only meant to carry off his cattle, such a task could have been
+done without bringing him along with them. It seemed to him that there
+could be only one interpretation put upon the matter, and, in spite of
+his present agonies, the great man shuddered as he thought.
+
+Courageous as he was, he endured a period of mental agony which took all
+the heart out of him. He understood the methods of the prairie so well
+that he feared the very worst. A tree--a lariat--and he saw, in fancy, a
+crowd of carrion swarming round his swinging body. He could conceive no
+other object, and his nerves became racked almost to breaking pitch.
+
+The real truth of the situation was beyond his wildest dreams. The
+significance of the fact that this second attack was made against him
+was lost upon the wretched man. He only seemed to realize with natural
+dread that Retief--the terror of the countryside--was in this, therefore
+the outcome must surely be the very worst.
+
+At length the horses drew up at Lablache's lonely ranch. His nearest
+neighbor was not within ten miles of him. With that love of power and
+self aggrandisement which always characterized him, the money-lender had
+purchased from the Government a vast tract of country, and retained
+every acre of it for his own stock. It might have stood him in good
+stead now had he let portions of his grazing, and so settled up the
+district. As it was, his ranch was characteristic of himself--isolated;
+and he knew that Retief could here work his will with little chance of
+interference.
+
+As Lablache was hoisted from the buckboard and set upon his feet, and
+the gag was removed from his mouth, the first thing he noticed was the
+absolute quiescence of the place. He wondered if his foreman and the
+hands were yet sleeping.
+
+He was not long left in doubt. Retief gave a few rapid orders to his
+men, and as he did so Lablache observed, for the first time, that the
+Breeds numbered at least half-a-dozen. He felt sure that not more than
+four besides their chief had traveled with them, and yet now the number
+had increased.
+
+The obvious conclusion was that the others were already here at the time
+of the arrival of the buckboard, doubtless with the purpose of carrying
+out Retief's plans.
+
+The Breeds moved off in various directions, and their chief and the
+money-lender were left alone. As soon as the others were out of earshot
+the raider approached his captive. His face seemed to have undergone
+some subtle change. The lofty air of command had been replaced by a look
+of bitter hatred and terrible cruelty.
+
+"Now, Lablache," he said coldly, "I guess you're goin' to see some fun.
+I ain't mostly hard on people. I like to do the thing han'some. Say
+I'll jest roll this bar'l 'long so as you ken set. An' see hyar, ef
+you're mighty quiet I'll loose them hands o' yours."
+
+Lablache deigned no reply, but the other was as good as his word.
+
+"Sulky, some, I guess," the half-breed went on. "Wal, I'm not goin' back
+on my word," he added as he rolled the barrel up to his prisoner and
+scotched it securely. "Thar, set."
+
+The money-lender didn't move.
+
+"Set!" This time the word conveyed a command and the other sat down on
+the barrel.
+
+"Guess I can't stand cantankerous cusses. Now, let's have a look at yer
+bracelets."
+
+He sat beside his captive and proceeded to loosen the rope which bound
+his wrists. Then he quietly drew his pistol and rested it on his knee.
+Lablache enjoyed his freedom, but wondered what was coming next.
+
+There was a moment of silence while the two men gazed at the corrals and
+buildings set out before them. Away to the right, on a rising ground,
+stood a magnificent house built of red pine lumber. Lablache had built
+this as a dwelling for himself. For the prairie it was palatial, and
+there was nothing in the country to equal it. This building alone had
+cost sixty thousand dollars. On a lower level there were the great
+barns. Four or five of these stood linked up by smaller buildings and
+quarters for the ranch hands. Then there was a stretch of low buildings
+which were the boxes built for the great man's thoroughbred stud horses.
+He was possessed of six such animals, and their aggregate cost ran into
+thousands of pounds, each one having been imported from England.
+
+Then there were the corrals with their great ten-foot walls, all built
+of the finest pine logs cut from the mountain forests. These corrals
+covered acres of ground and were capable of sheltering five thousand
+head of cattle without their capacity being taxed. It was an ideal place
+and represented a considerable fortune. Lablache noticed that the
+corrals were entirely empty. He longed to ask his captor for
+explanation, but would not give that swarthy individual the satisfaction
+of imparting unpleasant information.
+
+However, Retief did not intend to let the money-lender off lightly. The
+cruel expression of his face deepened as he followed the direction of
+Lablache's gaze.
+
+"Fine place, this," he said, with a comprehensive nod. "Cost a pile o'
+dollars, I take it."
+
+No answer.
+
+"You ain't got much stock. Guess the boys 'ave helped themselves
+liberal."
+
+Lablache turned his face towards his companion. He was fast being drawn.
+
+"Heard 'em gassin' about twenty thousand head some days back. Guess
+they've borrowed 'em," he went on indifferently.
+
+"You villain!" the exasperated prisoner hissed at last.
+
+If ever a look conveyed a lust for murder Lablache's lashless eyes
+expressed it.
+
+"Eh? What? Guess you ain't well." The icy tones mocked at the distraught
+captive.
+
+The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool.
+
+"My cattle are on the range. You could never have driven off twenty
+thousand head. It would have been impossible without my hearing of it.
+It is more than one night's work."
+
+"That's so," replied the half-breed, smiling sardonically. "Say, your
+hands and foreman are shut up in their shack. They've bin taking things
+easy fur a day or two. Jest to give my boys a free hand. Guess we've
+been at work here these three days."
+
+The money-lender groaned inwardly. He understood the Breed's meaning
+only too well. At last his bottled-up rage broke out again.
+
+"Are you man or devil that you spirit away great herds like this.
+Across the keg, I know, but how--how? Twenty thousand! My God, you'll
+swing for this night's work," he went on impotently. "The whole
+countryside will be after you. I am not the man to sit down quietly
+under such handling. If I spend every cent I'm possessed of, you shall
+be hounded down until you dare not show your face on this side of the
+border."
+
+"Easy, boss," the Breed retorted imperturbably. "Ef you want to see that
+precious store o' yours again a civil tongue 'll help you best. I'm
+mostly a patient man--easy goin'-like. Now jest keep calm an' I'll let
+you see the fun. Now that's a neat shack o' yours," he went on, pointing
+to the money-lender's mansion. "Wonder ef I could put a dose o' lead
+into one o' the windows from here."
+
+Lablache began to think he was dealing with a madman. He remained
+silent, and the Breed leveled his pistol in the direction of the house
+and fired. A moment's silence followed the sharp report. Then Retief
+turned to his captive.
+
+"Guess I didn't hear any glass smash. Likely I missed it," and he
+chuckled fiendishly. Lablache sat gazing moodily at the building. Then
+the half-breed's voice roused him. "Hello, wot's that?" He was pointing
+at the house. "Why, some galoot's lightin' a bonfire! Say, that's
+dangerous Lablache. They might fire your place."
+
+But the other did not answer. His eyes were staring wide with horror. As
+if in answer to the pistol-shot a fire had been lit against the side of
+the house. It was no ordinary fire, either, but a great pile of hay. The
+flames shot up with terrible swiftness, licking up the side of the red
+pine house with lightning rapidity. Lablache understood. The house was
+to be demolished, and Retief had given the signal. He leapt up from his
+seat, forgetful of his bound feet, and made as though to seize the Breed
+by the throat. He got no further, however, for Retief gripped him by the
+shoulder, and, notwithstanding his great bulk, hurled him back on to the
+barrel, at the same time pressing the muzzle of his pistol into his
+face.
+
+"Set down, you scum," he thundered. "Another move like that an' I'll
+let the atmosphere into yer." Then with a Sudden return to his grim
+pastime, as the other remained quiet, "Say, red pine makes powerful fine
+kindlin'. I reckon they'll see that light at the settlement. You don't
+seem pleased, man. Ain't it a beaut. Look, they've started it the other
+side. Now the smoke stack's caught. Burn, burn, you beauty. Look,
+Lablache, a sixty thousand dollar fire, an' all yours. Ain't you proud
+to think that it's all yours?"
+
+Lablache was speechless with horror. Words failed to express his
+feelings. The Breed watched him as a tiger might contemplate its
+helpless prey. He understood something of the agony the great man was
+suffering. He wanted him to suffer--he meant him to suffer. But he had
+only just begun the torture he had so carefully prepared for his victim.
+
+Presently the roof of the building crashed in, and, for the moment, the
+blaze leapt high. Then, soon, it began to die down. Retief seemed to
+tire of watching the dying blaze. He turned again to his prisoner.
+
+"Not 'nough, eh? Not 'nough. We can't stop here all night. Let's have
+the rest. The sight'll warm your heart." And he laughed at his own grim
+pleasantry. "The boys have cleared out your stud 'plugs.' And, I guess,
+yer barns are chocked full of yer wheel gearing and implements. Say, I
+guess we'll have 'em next."
+
+He turned from his silent captive without waiting for reply, and rapidly
+discharged the remaining five barrels of his pistol. For answer another
+five bonfires were lighted round the barns and corals. Almost instantly
+the whole place became a gorgeous blaze of light. The entire ranch, with
+the exception of one little shack was now burning as only pine wood can
+burn. It was a terrible, never-to-be-forgotten sight, and Lablache
+groaned audibly as he saw the pride of his wealth rapidly gutted. If
+ever a man suffered the money-lender suffered that night Retief showed
+a great understanding of his prisoner--far too great an understanding
+for a man who was supposed to be a stranger to Lablache--in the way he
+set about to torture his victim. No bodily pain could have equaled the
+mental agony to which the usurer was submitted. The sight of the
+demolishing of his beautiful ranch--probably the most beautiful in the
+country--was a cruelly exquisite torture to the money-loving man. That
+dread conflagration represented the loss to him of a fortune, for, with
+grasping pusillanimity, Lablache had refused to insure his property. Had
+Retief known this he could not have served his own purpose better.
+Possibly he did know, and possibly that was the inducement which
+prompted his action. Truly was the money-lender paying dearly for past
+misdeeds. With the theft of his cattle and the burning of his ranch his
+loss was terrible, and, in his moment of anguish, he dared not attempt
+to calculate the extent of the catastrophe.
+
+When the fire was at its height Retief again addressed his taunting
+language to the man beside him, and Lablache writhed under the lash of
+that scathing tongue.
+
+"I've heerd tell you wer' mighty proud of this place of yours. Spent
+piles o' bills on it. Nothin' like circulatin' cash, I guess. Say now,
+how long did it take you to fix them shacks up?"
+
+No answer. Lablache was beyond mere words.
+
+"A sight longer than it takes a bit of kindlin' to fetch 'em down, I
+take it," he went on placidly. "When d'ye think you'll start
+re-building? I wonder," thoughtfully, "why they don't fire that shed
+yonder," pointing to the only building left untouched. "Ah, I was
+forgettin', that's whar your hands are enjoyin' themselves. It's
+thoughtful o' the boys. I guess they're good lads. They don't cotton to
+killin' prairie hands. But they ain't so particular over useless lumps
+o' flesh, I guess," with a glance at the stricken man beside him.
+
+Lablache was gasping heavily. The mental strain was almost more than he
+could bear, and his crushed and hopeless attitude brought a satanic
+smile on the cruel face beside him.
+
+"You don't seem to fancy things much," Retief went on. "Guess you ain't
+enjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like this
+fur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?" as the barrel on which they were
+seated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. "I hadn't a
+notion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Them
+barns," he added, pointing, towards the fire, "was built mighty solid.
+They're on'y jest cavin'."
+
+Lablache remained silent. Words, he felt, would be useless. In fact it
+is doubtful if he would have been equal to expression. His spirit was
+crushed and he feared the man beside him as he had never feared any
+human being before. Such was the nervous strain put upon him that the
+sense of his loss was rapidly absorbed in a dread for his own personal
+safety. The conflagration had lost its fascination for him, and at every
+move--every word--of his captor he dreaded the coming of his own end. It
+was a physical and mental collapse, and bordered closely on frenzied
+terror. It was no mental effort of his own that kept him from hurling
+himself upon the other and biting and tearing in a vain effort to rend
+the life out of him. The thought--the fever, desire, craving--was there,
+but the will, the personality, of the Breed held him spellbound, an
+inert mass of flesh incapable of physical effort--incapable almost of
+thought, but a prey to an overwhelming terror.
+
+The watching half-breed at length rose from his seat and shrugged his
+thin, stooping shoulders. He had had enough of his pastime, and time was
+getting on. He had other work to do before daylight. He put his hand to
+his mouth and imitated the cry of the coyote. An instant later answering
+cries came from various directions, and presently the Breeds gathered
+round their chief.
+
+"Say, bring up the 'plugs,' lads. The old boy's had his bellyfull. I
+guess we'll git on." Then he turned upon the broken money-lender and
+spoke while he re-charged the chambers of his pistol.
+
+"See hyar, Lablache, this night's work is on'y a beginning. So long as
+you live in Foss River Settlement so long will I hunt you out an' hustle
+yer stock. You talked of houndin' me, but I guess the shoe's on the
+other foot. I ain't finished by a sight, an' you'll hear from me agin'.
+I don't fancy yer life," he went on with a grin. "Et's too easy, I
+guess. Et's yer bills I'm after. Ye've got plenty an' to spare. But
+bills is all-fired awk'ud to handle when they pass thro' your dirty
+hands. So I'll wait till you've turned 'em into stock. Savee? I'm jest
+goin' right on now. Thar's a bunch o' yer steers waitin' to be taken
+off. Happen I'm goin' to see to 'em right away. One o' these lads'll
+jest set some bracelets on yer hands, and leave yer tucked up and
+comfortable so you can't do any harm, and you can set right thar an'
+wait till some 'un comes along an' looses yer. So long, pard, an'
+remember, Foss River's the hottest place outside o' hell fur you, jest
+now."
+
+Some of the half-breeds had brought up the horses whilst Retief was
+talking, and, as he finished speaking, the hustler vaulted on to the
+back of the great chestnut, Golden Eagle, and prepared to ride away.
+Whilst the others were getting into their saddles he took one look at
+the wretched captive whose hands had been again secured. There was a
+swift exchange of glances--malevolent and murderous on the part of the
+money-lender, and derisive on the part of the half-breed--then Retief
+swung his charger round, and, at the head of his men, galloped away out
+into the starry night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG
+
+
+The rope which brought Horrocks to the ground came near to strangling
+him. He struggled wildly as he fell, and, as he struggled, the grip of
+the rope tightened. He felt that the blood was ready to burst from his
+temples and eyes. Then everything seemed to swim about him and he
+believed consciousness was leaving him. Everything was done in a moment
+and yet he seemed to be passing through an eternity of time.
+
+The lariat is a handy weapon, but to truly appreciate its merits one
+must be a prairie man. The Breeds are prairie men. They understand fully
+the uses to which a "rope" may be put. For criminal purposes they
+appreciate its silent merits, and the dexterity with which they can use
+it makes its value equal to, and even surpass, the noisier and more
+tell-tale pistol.
+
+The next thing that the policeman knew was that he was stretched on his
+back upon the ground, disarmed, and with a great bandanna secured about
+his eyes and mouth, and his hands tied behind his back. Then a gruff
+voice bade him rise, and, as he silently obeyed, he was glad to feel
+that the gripping lariat was removed from his throat. Truly had the
+officer's pride gone before a fall. And his feelings were now of the
+deepest chagrin. He stood turning his head from side to side, blindly
+seeking to penetrate the bandage about his eyes. He knew where he was,
+of course, but he would have given half his year's salary for a sight of
+his assailants.
+
+He was not given long for his futile efforts. The same rough voice
+which had bade him rise now ordered him to walk, and he found himself
+forced forward by the aid of a heavy hand which gripped one of his arms.
+The feeling of a blindfold walk is not a happy one, and the officer
+experienced a strange sensation of falling as he was urged he knew not
+whither. After a few steps he was again halted, and then he felt himself
+seized from behind and lifted bodily into a conveyance.
+
+He quickly realized that he was in a buckboard. The slats which formed
+the body of it, as his feet lit upon them, told him this. Then two men
+jumped in after him and he found himself seated between them. And so he
+was driven off.
+
+In justice to Horrocks it must be said that he experienced no fear.
+True, his chagrin was very great. He saw only too plainly what want of
+discretion he had displayed in trusting to the Breed's story, but he
+felt that his previous association with the rascal warranted his
+credulity, and the outcome must be regarded as the fortune of war. He
+only wondered what strange experience this blindfold journey was to
+forerun. There was not the least doubt in his mind as to whose was the
+devising of this well-laid and well-carried-out plot. Retief, he knew,
+must be answerable for the plan, and the method displayed in its
+execution plainly showed him that every detail had been carefully
+thought out, and administered by only too willing hands. That there was
+more than ordinary purpose in this blindfold journey he felt assured,
+and he racked his brains to discover the desperado's object. He even
+found time to speculate as to how it had fared with his men, only here
+he was even more at a loss than in the case of his own ultimate fate.
+
+In less than half an hour from the time of his capture the buckboard
+drew up beside some bush. Horrocks knew it was a bluff. He could hear
+the rustle of the leaves as they fluttered in the gentle night air. Then
+he was unceremoniously hustled to the ground, and, equally
+unceremoniously, urged forward until his feet trod upon the stubbly,
+breaking undergrowth. Next he was brought to a stand and swung round,
+face about, his bonds were removed, and four powerful hands gripped his
+arms. By these he was drawn backwards until he bumped against a
+tree-trunk. His hands were then again made fast, but this time his arms
+embraced the tree behind him. In this manner he was securely trussed.
+
+Now from behind--his captors were well behind him--a hand reached over,
+and, by a swift movement, removed the bandage from before his eyes.
+Then, before he had time to turn his head, he heard a scrambling through
+the bush, and, a moment later, the sound of the creaking buckboard
+rapidly receding. He was left alone; and, after one swift, comprehensive
+survey, to his surprise, he found himself facing the wire-spreading
+muskeg, at the very spot where he had given up further pursuit of the
+cattle whose "spur" he had traced down to the brink of the viscid mire.
+
+His astonishment rendered him oblivious to all else. He merely gazed out
+across that deceptive flat and wondered. Why--why had this thing been
+done, and what strange freak had induced the "hustler" to conceive such
+a form of imprisonment for his captive? Horrocks struggled with his
+confusion, but he failed to fathom the mystery, and never was a man's
+confusion worse confounded than was his.
+
+Presently he bethought him of his bonds, and he cautiously tried them.
+They were quite unyielding, and, at each turn of his arms, they caused
+him considerable pain. The Breeds had done their work well, and he
+realized that he must wait the raider's pleasure. He was certain of one
+thing, however, which brought him a slight amount of comfort. He had
+been brought here for a definite purpose. Moreover, he did not believe
+that he was to be left here alone for long. So, with resignation induced
+by necessity, he possessed himself of what patience he best could
+summon.
+
+How long that solitary vigil lasted Horrocks had no idea. Time, in that
+predicament, was to him of little account. He merely wondered and
+waited. He considered himself more than fortunate that his captors had
+seen fit to remove the bandage from his eyes. In spite of his painful
+captivity he felt less helpless from the fact that he could see what
+might be about him.
+
+From a general survey his attention soon became riveted upon the muskeg
+spread out before him, and, before long, his thoughts turned to the
+secret path which he knew, at some point near by, bridged the silent
+horror. All about him was lit by the starry splendor of the sky. The
+scent of the redolent grass of the great keg hung heavily upon the air
+and smelt sweet in his nostrils. He could see the ghostly outline of the
+distant peaks of the mountains, he could hear the haunting cries of
+nightfowl and coyote; but these things failed to interest him.
+Familiarity with the prairie made them, to him, commonplace. The
+path--the secret of the great keg. That was the absorbing thought which
+occupied his waiting moments. He felt that its discovery would more than
+compensate for any blunders he had made. He strained his keen eyes as he
+gazed at the tall waving grass of the mire, as though to tear from the
+bosom of the awful swamp the secret it so jealously guarded. He slowly
+surveyed its dark surface, almost inch by inch, in the hopes of
+discovering the smallest indication or difference which might lead to
+the desired end.
+
+There was nothing in what he saw to guide him, nothing which offered the
+least suggestion of a path. In the darkness the tall waving grass took a
+nondescript hue which reached unbroken for miles around. Occasionally
+the greensward seemed to ripple in the breeze, like water swayed by a
+soft summer zephyr, but beyond this the outlook was uniform--darkly
+mysterious--inscrutable.
+
+His arms cramped under the pressure of the restraining bonds and he
+moved uneasily. Now and again the rustling of the leaves overhead caused
+him to listen keenly. Gradually his fancy became slightly distorted,
+and, as time passed, the sounds which had struck so familiarly upon his
+ears, and which had hitherto passed unheeded, began to get upon his
+nerves.
+
+By-and-by he found himself listening eagerly for the monotonous
+repetition of the prairie scavenger's dismal howl, and as the cries
+recurred they seemed to grow in power and become more plaintively
+horrible. Now, too, the sighing of the breeze drew more keen attention
+from the imprisoned man, and fancy magnified it into the sound of many
+approaching feet. These matters were the effect of solitude. At such
+times nerves play curious pranks.
+
+In spite of his position, in spite of his anxiety of mind, the
+police-officer began to grow drowsy. The long night's vigil was telling,
+and nature rebelled, as she always will rebel when sleep is refused and
+bodily rest is unobtainable. A man may pace his bedroom for hours with
+the unmitigated pain of toothache. Even while the pain is almost
+unendurable his eyes will close and he will continue his peregrinations
+with tottering gait, awake, but with most of his faculties drowsily
+faltering. Horrocks found his head drooping forward, and, even against
+his will, his eyes would close. Time and again he pulled himself
+together, only the next instant to catch himself dozing off again.
+
+Suddenly, however, he was electrified into life. He was awake now, and
+all drowsiness had vanished. A sound--distant, rumbling, but
+distinct--had fallen upon his, for the moment, dulled ears. For awhile
+it likened to the far-off growl of thunder, blending with a steady rush
+of wind. But it was not passing. The sound remained and grew steadily
+louder. A minute passed--then another and then another. Horrocks stared
+in the direction, listening with almost painful intensity. As the
+rumbling grew, and the sound became more distinct, a light of
+intelligence crept into the prisoner's face. He heard and recognized.
+
+"Cattle!" he muttered, and in that pronouncement was an inflection of
+joy. "Cattle--and moving at a great pace."
+
+He was alert now, as alert as he had ever been in his life. Was he at
+last going to discover the coveted secret? Cattle traveling fast at this
+time of night, and in the vicinity of the great keg. What could it mean?
+To his mind there could only be one construction which he could
+reasonably put upon the circumstance. The cattle were being "hustled,"
+and the hustler must be the half-breed Retief.
+
+Then, like a douche of cold water, followed the thought that he had been
+purposely made a prisoner at the edge of the muskeg. Surely he was not
+to be allowed to see the cattle pass over the mire and then be permitted
+to go free. Even Retief in his wildest moments of bravado could not
+meditate so reckless a proceeding. No, there was some subtle purpose
+underlying this new development--possibly the outcome was to be far more
+grim than he had supposed. He waited horrified, at his own thoughts, but
+fascinated in spite of himself.
+
+The sound grew rapidly and Horrocks's face remained turned in the
+direction from which it proceeded. He fancied, even in the uncertain
+light, that he could see the distant crowd of beasts silhouetted against
+the sky-line. His post of imprisonment was upon the outskirts of the
+bush, and he had a perfect and uninterrupted view of the prairie along
+the brink of the keg, both to the north and south.
+
+It was his fancy, however, which designed the silhouette, and he soon
+became aware that the herd was nearer than he had supposed. The noise
+had become a continuous roar as the driven beasts came on, and he saw
+them loom towards him a black patch on the dark background of the
+dimly-lit prairie. The bunch was large, but his straining eyes as yet
+could make no estimate of its numbers. He could see several herders, but
+these, too, were as yet beyond recognition.
+
+Yet another surprise was in store for the waiting man. So fixed had his
+attention been upon the on-coming cattle that he had not once removed
+his eyes from the direction of their approach. Now, however, a prolonged
+bellow to the right of him caused him to turn abruptly. To his utter
+astonishment he saw, not fifty yards from him, a solitary horseman
+leading a couple of steers by ropes affixed to their horns. He wondered
+how long this strange apparition had been there. The horse was calmly
+nibbling at the grass, and the man was quietly resting himself with
+elbows propped upon the horn of his saddle. He, too, appeared to be
+gazing in the direction of the on-coming cattle. Horrocks tried hard to
+distinguish the man's appearance, but the light was too uncertain to
+give him more than the vaguest idea of his personality.
+
+The horse seemed to be black or very dark brown. And the general outline
+of the rider was that of a short slight man, with rather long hair which
+flowed from beneath the brim of his Stetson hat. The most curious
+distinguishable feature was his slightness. The horse was big and the
+man, was so small that, as he sat astride of his charger, he looked to
+be little more than a boy of fifteen or sixteen.
+
+Horrocks's survey was cut short, however, for now the herd of cattle was
+tearing down upon him at a desperate racing pace. He saw the solitary
+rider gather up his lines and move his horse further away from the edge
+of the muskeg. Then the herd of cattle came along. They raced past the
+bluff where the officer was stationed, accompanied by four swarthy
+drivers, one of which was mounted upon a great chestnut horse whose
+magnificent stride and proportions fixed the captive's attention. He had
+heard of "Golden Eagle," and he had no doubt in his mind that this was
+he and the rider was the celebrated cattle-thief. The band and its
+drovers swept by, and Horrocks estimated that the cattle numbered many
+hundreds.
+
+After awhile he heard the sound of voices. Then the beasts were driven
+back again over their tracks, only at a more gentle pace. Several times
+the performance was gone through, and each time, as they passed him,
+Horrocks noticed that their pace was decreased, until by the sixth time
+they passed their gait had become a simple mouche, and they leisurely
+nipped up the grass as they went, with bovine unconcern. It was a
+masterly display of how cattle can be handled, and Horrocks forgot for a
+while his other troubles in his interest in the spectacle.
+
+After passing him for the sixth time the cattle came to a halt; and then
+the strangest part of this strange scene was enacted. The horseman with
+the led steers, whom, by this time, Horrocks had almost forgotten, came
+leisurely upon the field of action. No instructions were given. The
+whole thing was done in almost absolute silence. It seemed as if long
+practice had perfected the method of procedure.
+
+The horseman advanced to the brink of the muskeg, exactly opposite to
+the bluff where the captive was tied, and with him the two led steers.
+Horrocks held his breath--his excitement was intense. The swarthy
+drivers roused the tired cattle and headed them towards the captive
+steers. Horrocks saw the boyish rider urge his horse fearlessly on to
+the treacherous surface of the keg. The now docile and exhausted cattle
+followed leisurely. There was no undue bustle or haste. It was a
+veritable "follow my leader." Where it was good enough for the captive
+leaders to go it was good enough for the weary beasts to follow, and so,
+as the boy rider moved forward, the great herd followed in twos and
+threes. The four drivers remained until the end, and then, as the last
+steer set foot on the dreadful mire, they too joined in the silent
+procession.
+
+Horrocks exerted all his prairie instinct as he watched the course of
+that silent band. He was committing to memory, as far as he was capable,
+the direction of the path across the keg, for, when opportunity offered,
+he was determined to follow up his discovery and attempt the journey
+himself. He fancied in his own secret heart that Retief had at last
+overreached himself, and in thus giving away his secret he was paving
+the way to his own capture.
+
+It was not long before the cattle and their drivers passed out of sight,
+but Horrocks continued to watch, so that he should lose no chance detail
+of interest. At length, however, he found that his straining gaze was
+useless, and all further interest passed out of his lonely vigil.
+
+Now he busied himself with plans for his future movements, when he
+should once more be free. And in such thought the long night passed, and
+the time drew on towards dawn.
+
+The surprises of the night were not yet over, however, for just before
+the first streaks of daylight shot athwart the eastern sky he saw two
+horsemen returning across the muskeg. He quickly recognized them as
+being the raider himself and the boyish rider who had led the cattle
+across the mire. They came across at a good pace, and as they reached
+the bank the officer was disgusted to see the boy ride off in a
+direction away from the settlement, and the raider come straight towards
+the bluff. Horrocks was curious about the boy who seemed so conversant
+with the path across the mire, and was anxious to have obtained a
+clearer view of him.
+
+The raider drew his horse up within a few yards of the captive. Horrocks
+had a good view of the man's commanding, eagle face. In spite of himself
+he could not help but feel a strange admiration for this lawless Breed.
+
+There was something wonderfully fascinating and lofty in the hustler's
+direct, piercing gaze as, proudly disdainful, he looked down upon his
+discomfited prisoner.
+
+He seemed in no hurry to speak. A shadowy smile hovered about his face
+as he eyed the officer. Then he turned away and looked over to the
+eastern horizon. He turned back again and drawled out a greeting. It was
+not cordial but it was characteristic of him.
+
+"Wal?"
+
+Horrocks made no reply. The Breed laughed mockingly, and leant forward
+upon the horn of his saddle.
+
+"Guess you've satisfied your curiosity--some. Say, the boys didn't
+handle you too rough, I take it. I told 'em to go light."
+
+Horrocks was constrained to retort.
+
+"Not so rough as you'll be handled when you get the law about you."
+
+"Now I call that unfriendly. Guess them's gopher's words. But say, pard,
+the law ain't got me yet. Wot d'ye think of the road across the keg?
+Mighty fine trail that." He laughed as though enjoying a good joke.
+
+Horrocks felt that he must terminate this interview. The Breed had a
+most provoking way with him. His self-satisfaction annoyed his hearer.
+
+"How much longer do you intend to keep me here?" Horrocks exclaimed
+bitterly. "I suppose you mean murder; you'd better get on with it and
+stop gassing. Men of your kidney don't generally take so much time over
+that sort of business."
+
+Retief seemed quite unruffled.
+
+"Murder? Why, man, I didn't bring you here to murder you. Guess ef I'd a
+notion that way you'd 'a' been done neat long ago. No, I jest wanted to
+show you what you wanted to find out. Now I'm goin' to let you go, so
+you, an' that skunk Lablache'll be able to chin-wag over this night's
+doin's. That's wot I'm here fer right now."
+
+As he finished speaking the Breed circled Golden Eagle round behind the
+tree, and, bending low down from the saddle, he cut the rope which held
+the policeman's wrists. Horrocks, feeling himself freed, stepped quickly
+from the bush into the open, and faced about towards his liberator. As
+he did so he found himself looking up into the muzzle of Retief's
+revolver. He stood his ground unflinchingly.
+
+"Now, see hyar, pard," said Retief, quietly, "I've a mighty fine respect
+for you. You ain't the cuckoo that many o' yer mates is. You've got
+grit, anyway. But that ain't all you need. 'Savee's' a mighty fine
+thing--on occasions. Now you need 'Savee.' I'll jest give yer a piece of
+advice right hyar. You go straight off down to Lablache's ranch. You'll
+find him thar. An' pesky uncomfortable you'll find him. You ken set him
+free, also his ranch boys, an' when you've done that jest make tracks
+for Stormy Cloud an' don't draw rein till you git thar. Ef ever you see
+Retief on one trail, jest hit right off on to another. That's good sound
+sense right through fur you. Say, work on that, an' you ain't like to
+come to no harm. But I swear, right hyar, ef you an' me ever come to
+close quarters I'll perforate you--'less you git the drop on me. An' to
+do that'll keep you humpin'. So long, pard. It's jest gettin' daylight,
+ah' I don't calc'late to slouch around hyar when the sun's shinin'.
+Don't go fur to forget my advice. I don't charge nothin' fur it, but
+it's good, pard--real good, for all that. So long."
+
+He swung his horse round, and before Horrocks had time to collect
+himself, much less to speak, he was almost out of sight.
+
+Half dazed and still wondering at the strangeness of the desperate
+Breed's manner he mechanically began to walk slowly in the direction of
+the Foss River Settlement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE DAY AFTER
+
+
+Morning broke over a disturbed and restless community at Foss River. The
+chief residents who were not immediately concerned in the arrest of
+Retief--only deeply interested, and therefore skeptical--had gone to bed
+over-night eager for the morning light to bring them news. Their broken
+slumbers ceased as daylight broadened into sunrise, and, without waiting
+for their morning coffee, the majority set out to gather the earliest
+crumbs of news obtainable. There were others, of course, who were not in
+the know, or, at least, had only heard vague rumors. These were less
+interested, and therefore failed to rise so early.
+
+Amongst the earliest abroad was Doctor Abbot. Aunt Margaret's interest
+was not sufficient to drag her from her downy couch thus early, but,
+with truly womanly logic, she saw no reason why the doctor should not
+glean for her the information she required. Therefore the doctor rose
+and shivered under the lightness of his summer apparel in the brisk
+morning air.
+
+The market-place, upon which the doctor's house looked, was almost
+deserted when he passed out of his door. He glanced quickly around for
+some one whom he might recognize. He saw that the door of "Lord" Bill's
+shack was open, but it was too far off for him to see whether that lazy
+individual was yet up. A neche was leisurely cleaning up round
+Lablache's store, whilst the local butcher was already busy swabbing out
+the little shed which did duty for his shop. As yet there was no other
+sign of life abroad, and Doctor Abbot prepared to walk across to the
+butcher for a gossip, and thus wait for some one else to come along.
+
+He stepped briskly from his house, for he was "schrammed" with cold in
+his white drill clothing. As he approached the energetic butcher, he saw
+a man entering the market-place from the southern extremity of the
+settlement. He paused to look closely at the new-comer. In a moment he
+recognized Thompson, one of the clerks from Lablache's store. He
+conjectured at once that this man might be able to supply him with the
+information he desired, and so changed his direction and went across to
+meet him.
+
+"Mornin', Thompson," he said, peering keenly into the pale, haggard face
+of the money-lender's employee. "What's up with you? You look positively
+ill. Have you heard how the arrest went off last night?"
+
+There was a blunt directness about the doctor which generally drove
+straight to the point. The clerk wearily passed his hand across his
+forehead. He seemed half asleep, and, as the doctor had asserted,
+thoroughly ill.
+
+"Arrest, doctor? Precious little arrest there's been. I've been out on
+the prairie all night. What, haven't you heard about the governor? Good
+lor'! I don't know what's going to happen to us all. Do you think we're
+safe here?"
+
+"Safe here? What do you mean, man?" the doctor answered, noting the
+other's fearful glances round. "Why, what ails you? What about
+Lablache?"
+
+Others had now appeared upon the market-place and Doctor Abbot saw
+"Lord" Bill, dressed in a gray tweed suit, and looking as fresh as if he
+had just emerged from the proverbial bandbox, coming leisurely towards
+him.
+
+"What about Lablache, eh?" replied Thompson, echoing the doctor's
+question ruefully. "A pretty nice thing Horrocks and his fellows have
+let themselves, and us, in for."
+
+Bill had come up now and several others had joined the group. They stood
+by and listened while the clerk told his story. And what a story it was
+too. It was vividly sanguinary, and enough to strike terror into the
+hearts of his audience.
+
+He told with great gusto of how Lablache had been abducted. How the
+police horses and the money-lender's had been stolen from the stables at
+the store. He dwelt on the frightful horrors committed up at the Breed
+camp. How he had seen the police shot down before his very eyes, and he
+became expansive on the fact that, with his own hands, Retief had
+carried off Horrocks, and how he had heard the raider declare his
+intention of hanging him. It was a terrible tale of woe, and his
+audience was thrilled and horrified. "Lord" Bill alone appeared unmoved.
+A close observer even might have noticed the faintest suspicion of a
+smile at the corners of his mouth. The smile broadened as the sharp
+doctor launched a question at the narrator of terrible facts.
+
+"How came you to see all this, and escape?"
+
+Thompson was at no loss. He told how he had been sent up by "Poker" John
+to find Horrocks and tell him about Lablache. How he arrived in time to
+see the horrors perpetrated, and how he only managed to escape with his
+own life by flight, under cover of the darkness, and how, pursued by the
+bloodthirsty Breeds, he had managed to hide on the prairie, where he
+remained until daylight, and then by a circuitous route got back to the
+settlement.
+
+"I tell you what it is, doctor," he finished up consequentially, "the
+Breeds are in open rebellion, and, headed by that devil, Retief, intend
+to clear us whites out of the country. It's the starting of another Riel
+rebellion, and if we don't get help from the Government quickly, it's
+all up with us. That's my opinion," and he gazed patronizingly upon the
+crowd, which by this time had assembled.
+
+"Nonsense, man," said the doctor sharply. "Your opinion's warped.
+Besides, you're in a blue funk. Come on over to 'old man' Smith's and
+have a 'freshener.' You want bucking-up. Coming, Bill?" he went on,
+turning to Bunning-Ford. "I want an 'eye-opener' myself. What say to a
+'Collins'?"
+
+The three moved away from the crowd, which they left horrified at what
+it had heard, and eagerly discussing and enlarging upon the sanguinary
+stories of Thompson.
+
+"Poker" John was already at the saloon when the three reached the door
+of "old man" Smith's reeking den. The proprietor was sweeping the bar,
+in a vain effort to clear the atmosphere of the nauseating stench of
+stale tobacco and drink. John was propped against the bar mopping up his
+fourth "Collins." He usually had a thirst that took considerable
+quenching in the mornings now. His over-night potations were deep and
+strong. Morning "nibbling" had consequently become a disease with him.
+"Old man" Smith, with a keen eye to business, systematically mixed the
+rancher's morning drinks good and strong.
+
+Bill and the doctor were not slow to detect the condition of their old
+friend, and each felt deeply on the subject. Their cheery greetings,
+however, were none the less hearty. Smith desisted in his dusty
+occupation and proceeded to serve his customers.
+
+"We're having lively times, John," said the doctor, after emptying his
+"long sleever." "Guess Retief's making things 'hum' in Foss River."
+
+"Hum? Shout is more like it," drawled Bill. "You've heard all the news,
+John?"
+
+"I've enough news of my own," growled the rancher.
+
+"Been up all night. I see you've got Thompson with you. What did
+Horrocks do after you told him about Lablache?" he went on, turning to
+the clerk.
+
+Bill and the doctor exchanged meaning glances. The clerk having found a
+fresh audience again repeated his story. "Poker" John listened
+carefully. At the close of the narrative he snorted disdainfully and
+looked from the clerk to his two friends. Then he laughed loudly. The
+clerk became angry.
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Allandale, but if you doubt my word--"
+
+"Doubt your word, boy?" he said, when his mirth had subsided. "I don't
+doubt your word. Only I've spent most of the night up at the Breed camp
+myself."
+
+"And were you there, sir, when Horrocks was captured?"
+
+"No, I was not. After you came to my place and went on to the camp, I
+was very uneasy. So, after a bit, I got my 'hands' together and prepared
+to follow you up there. Just as I was about to set out," he went on,
+turning to the doctor and Bill, "I met Jacky coming in. Bless you if she
+hadn't been to see the pusky herself. You know," with a slight frown,
+"that child is much too fond of those skulking Breeds. Well, anyway, she
+said everything was quiet enough while she was there and," turning again
+to Thompson, "she had seen nothing of Retief or Horrocks or any of the
+latter's men. We just put our heads together, and she convinced me that
+I was right, after what had occurred at the store, and had better go up.
+So up I went. We searched the whole camp. I guess we were there for nigh
+on three hours. The place was quiet enough. They were still dancing and
+drinking, but not a blessed sign of Horrocks could we find."
+
+"I expect he'd gone before you got there, sir," put in Thompson.
+
+"Did you find the bodies of the murdered police?" asked the doctor
+innocently.
+
+"Not a sign of 'em," laughed John. "There were no dead policemen, and,
+what's more, there was no trace of any shooting."
+
+The three men turned on the clerk, who felt that he must justify
+himself.
+
+"There was shooting enough, sir; you mark my words. You'll hear of it
+to-day, sure."
+
+"Lord" Bill walked away towards the window in disgust. The clerk annoyed
+him.
+
+"No, boy, no. I'm thinking you are mistaken. I should have discovered
+some trace had there been any shooting. I don't deny that your story's
+true, but in the excitement of the moment I guess you got rattled--and
+saw things."
+
+Old John laughed and turned away. At that instant Bill called them all
+over to the window. The bar window overlooked the market-place, and the
+front of Lablache's store was almost opposite to it.
+
+Bill pointed towards the store as the three men gathered round. "Old
+man" Smith also ranged himself with the others.
+
+"Look!" Bill smiled grimly.
+
+A buckboard had just drawn up outside Lablache's emporium and two people
+were alighting. A crowd had gathered round the arrivals. There was no
+mistaking one of the figures. The doctor was the first to give
+expression to the thought that was in the mind of each of the interested
+spectators.
+
+"Lablache!" he exclaimed in astonishment
+
+"And Horrocks," added "Lord" Bill quietly.
+
+"Guess he wasn't hung then after all," said "Poker" John, turning as he
+spoke. But Thompson had taken his departure. This last blow was too
+much. And he felt that it was an advantageous moment in which to retire
+to his employer's store, and hide his diminished head amongst the bales
+of dry goods and the monumental ledgers to be found there.
+
+"That youth has a considerable imagination." The Hon. Bunning-Ford
+turned from the window and strolled leisurely towards the door.
+
+"Where are you going?" exclaimed "Poker" John.
+
+"To cook some breakfast."
+
+"No, no, you must come up to the ranch with me. Let's go right over to
+the store first, and hear what Lablache has to say. Then we'll go and
+feed."
+
+Bill shrugged. Then,--
+
+"Lablache and I are not on the best of terms," he said doubtfully. He
+wished to go notwithstanding his demur. Besides he was anxious to go on
+to the ranch to see Jacky. The doubt in his tone gave John his cue, and
+the old man refused to be denied.
+
+"Come along," he said, and linking his arm within the other's, he led
+the way over to the store; the doctor, equally eager, bringing up the
+rear.
+
+Bill suffered himself to be thus led. He knew that in such company
+Lablache could not very well refuse him admission to his office. He had
+a decided wish to be present when the money-lender told his tale.
+However, in this he was doomed to disappointment. Lablache had already
+decided upon a plan of action.
+
+At the store the three friends made their way through the crowd of
+curious people who had gathered on the unexpected return of the chief
+actors in last night's drama; they made their way quickly round to the
+back where the private door was.
+
+Lablache was within, and with him Horrocks. The heavy voice of the
+money-lender answered "Poker" John's summons.
+
+"Come in."
+
+He was surprised when the door opened, and he saw who his visitors were.
+John and the doctor he was prepared for, but "Lord" Bill's coming was a
+different matter. For an instant he seriously meditated an angry
+objection. Then he altered his mind, a thing which was rare with him.
+After all the man's presence could do no harm, and he felt that to
+object to him, would be to quarrel with the rancher. On second thoughts
+he would tolerate what he considered the intrusion.
+
+Lablache was ensconced in his basket chair, and Horrocks was at the
+great man's desk. Neither moved as their visitors entered. The troubles
+of the previous night were plainly written on both men's faces. There
+was a haggard look in their eyes, and a generally dishevelled appearance
+about their dress. Lablache in particular looked unwashed and untidy.
+Horrocks looked less troubled, and there was a strong air of
+determination about his face.
+
+"Poker" John showed no niceness in broaching the subject of his visit.
+His libations had roused him to the proper pitch for plain speaking.
+
+"Well, what happened to you last night, Lablache? I guess you're looking
+about as blue as they make 'em. Say, I thought sure Retief was going to
+do for you when I heard about it."
+
+"Ah. Who told you about--about me?"
+
+"Your clerk."
+
+"Rodgers?"
+
+"No, Thompson."
+
+"Ah! Have you seen Rodgers at all?"
+
+"No." John turned to the other two. "Have you?"
+
+Neither of the men had seen the clerk, and old John turned again to
+Lablache.
+
+"Why, what's happened to Rodgers?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. I haven't seen him since I have been back--that's all."
+
+"Well, now tell us all about last night," went on the rancher. "This
+matter is going to be cleared up. I have been thinking of a vigilance
+committee. We can't do better."
+
+Lablache shook his great head. To the doctor and "Lord" Bill there
+seemed to be an utter hopelessness conveyed in the motion.
+
+"I have nothing to tell. Neither has Horrocks. What happened last night
+concerns ourselves alone. You may possibly hear more later on, but the
+telling by us now will do no good, and probably a lot of harm. As for
+your vigilance committee, form it if you like, but I doubt that you will
+do any good with it."
+
+This refusal riled the old rancher. He was just in that condition when
+it would take little to make him quarrel. He was about to rap out an
+angry retort when a knock came at the partition door. It was Thompson.
+He had come to say that the troopers had returned, and wanted to see the
+sergeant. Also to say that Rodgers was with them. Horrocks immediately
+went out to see them, and, before John could say a word, Lablache turned
+on him.
+
+"Look here, John, for the present my lips are sealed. It is Horrocks's
+wish. He has a plan which he wishes to carry out quietly. The result of
+his plan largely depends upon silence. Retief seems to have sources of
+information everywhere. Walls have ears, man. Now, I shall be glad if
+you will leave me. I--I must get cleaned up."
+
+John's anger died within him. He saw that Lablache was upset. He looked
+absolutely ill. The old man's good nature would not allow him to press
+this companion of his ranching life further. There was nothing left for
+him to do but leave.
+
+As he rose to go, the money-lender unbent still further.
+
+"I'll see you later, John, I may then be able to tell you more. Perhaps
+it may interest you to know that Horrocks has discovered the path across
+the keg, and--he's going to cross it. Good-by. So long, Doc."
+
+"Very well, I shall be up at the ranch. Come along, Bill. Jacky, I
+expect, is waiting breakfast for us."
+
+Lablache heard the old man's remark as the latter passed out, and a
+bitter feeling of resentment rose within him. He felt that everything
+was against him. His evil nature, however, would not let him remain long
+desponding. He ground his teeth and cursed bitterly. It had only wanted
+a fillip such as this to rouse him from the curious lethargic
+hopelessness into which the terrible night's doings had cast him.
+
+The moment the three men got away from the store, Doctor Abbot drew
+attention to the money-lender's words.
+
+"Going to cross the keg, eh? Well, if he's really discovered the path
+it's certainly the best thing to do. He's a sharp man is Horrocks."
+
+"He's a fool!"
+
+Bill's words were so emphatic that both men stared at him. If they were
+startled at his words, they were still more startled at the set
+expression of his face. Doctor Abbot thought he had never seen the
+_insouciant_ Bill so roused out of himself.
+
+"Why--how?"
+
+"How? I tell you, man, that no one knows that path
+except--except--Retief, and, supposing Horrocks has discovered it, if he
+attempts to cross, there can only be one result to his mad folly. I tell
+you what it is, the man should be stopped. It's absolute
+suicide--nothing more nor less."
+
+Something in the emphasis of "Lord" Bill's words kept the others silent
+until the doctor left them at his home. Then as the two men hurried out
+across the prairie towards the ranch, the conversation turned back to
+the events of the previous evening.
+
+At the ranch they found Jacky awaiting the old man's return, on the
+veranda. She was surprised when she saw who was with him. Her surprise
+was a pleasant one, however, and she extended her hand in cordial
+welcome.
+
+"Come right in, Bill. Gee, but you look fit--and slick."
+
+The two young people smiled into each other's faces, and no onlooker,
+not even the observant Aunt Margaret, could have detected the
+understanding which passed in that look. Jacky was radiant. Her sweet,
+dark face was slightly flushed. There were no tell-tale rings about her
+dark eyes. For all sign she gave to the contrary she might have enjoyed
+the full measure of a night's rest. Her visit to the Breed camp, or, for
+that matter, any other adventures which had befallen her during the
+night, had left no trace on her beautiful face.
+
+"I've brought the boy up to feed," said old John. "I guess we'll get
+right to it. I've got a 'twist' on me that'll take considerable to
+satisfy."
+
+The meal passed pleasantly enough. The conversation naturally was
+chiefly confined to the events of the night. But somehow the others did
+not respond very eagerly to the old rancher's evident interest and
+concern. Most of the talking--most of the theorizing--most of the
+suggestions for the stamping out of the scourge, Retief, came from him,
+the others merely contenting themselves with agreeing to his suggestions
+with a lack of interest which, had the old man been perfectly sober, he
+could not have failed to observe. However, he was especially obtuse this
+morning, and was too absorbed in his own impracticable theories and
+suggestions to notice the others' lack of interest.
+
+At the conclusion of the meal the rancher took himself off down to the
+settlement again. He must endeavor to draw Lablache, he said. He would
+not wait for him to come to the ranch.
+
+Jacky and Bill went out on to the veranda, and watched the old man as he
+set out with unsteady gait for the settlement.
+
+"Bill," said the girl, as soon as her uncle was out of earshot, "what
+news?"
+
+"Two items of interest One, the very best, and the other--the very
+worst."
+
+"Which means?"
+
+"No one has the least suspicion of us; and Horrocks, the madman, intends
+to attempt the passage of the keg."
+
+"Lord" Bill jaws shut with a snap as he ceased speaking. The look which
+accompanied his last announcement was one of utter dejection. Jacky did
+not reply for an instant, her great eyes had taken on a look of deep
+anxiety as she gazed towards the muskeg.
+
+"Bill, can nothing be done to stop him?" She gazed appealingly up into
+the face of the tall figure beside her. "He is a brave man, if foolish."
+
+"That's just it, dear. He's headstrong and means to see this thing
+through. Had I thought that he would ever dream of contemplating such a
+suicidal feat as attempting that path, I'd never have let him see the
+cattle cross last night. My God! it turns me sick to think of it."
+
+"Hush, Bill, don't talk so loud. Do you think any one could dissuade
+him? Lablache, or--or uncle, for instance."
+
+Bunning-Ford shook his head. His look was troubled.
+
+"Horrocks is not the man to be turned from his purpose," he replied.
+"And besides, Lablache would not attempt such a thing. He is too keen to
+capture--Relief," with a bitter laugh. "A life more or less would not
+upset that scoundrel's resolve. As for your uncle," with a shrug, "I
+don't think he's the man for the task. No, Jacky," he went on, with a
+sigh, "we must let things take their course now. We have embarked on
+this business. We mustn't weaken. His blood be upon his own head."
+
+They relapsed into silence for some moments. "Lord" Bill lit a
+cigarette, and leant himself against one of the veranda posts. He was
+worried at the turn events had taken. He had no grudge against Horrocks;
+the man was but doing his duty. But his meditated attempt he considered
+to be an exaggerated sense of that duty. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"Jacky--do you know, I feel that somehow the end of this business is
+approaching. What the end is to be I cannot foretell. One thing,
+however, is clear. Sooner or later we must run foul of people, and when
+that occurs--well," throwing his cigarette from him viciously, "it
+simply means shooting. And--"
+
+"Yes, Bill, I know what you would say. Shooting means killing, killing
+means murder, and murder means swinging. You're right, but," and the
+girl's eyes began to blaze, "before that, Lablache must go under.
+Whatever happens, Bill, before we decorate any tree with our bodies, if
+our object is not already obtained, I'll shoot him with my own pistol. I
+guess we're embarked on a game that we're going to see through."
+
+"That's so. We'll see it through. Do you know what stock we've taken,
+all told? Close on twenty thousand head, and--all Lablache's. They're
+snug over at 'Bad Man's' Hollow, and a tidy fine bunch they are. The
+division with the boys is a twentieth each, and the balance is ours. Our
+share is ten thousand." He ceased speaking. Then presently he went on,
+harking back to the subject of Horrocks. "I wish that man could be
+stayed. His failure must precipitate matters. Should he drown, as he
+surely will, the whole countryside will join in the hue and cry. It is
+only his presence here that keeps the settlers in check. Well, so be it.
+It's a pity. But I'm not going to swing. They'll never take me alive."
+
+"If it comes to that, Bill, you'll not be alone, I guess. You can gamble
+your soul, when it comes to open warfare I'm with you, an' I guess I can
+shoot straight."
+
+Bill looked at the girl in astonishment. He noted the keen deep eyes,
+the set little mouth. The fearless expression on her beautiful face. Her
+words had fairly taken his breath away, but he saw that she had meant
+what she said.
+
+"No, no, girlie. No one will suspect you. Besides, this is my affair.
+You have your uncle."
+
+"Say, boy, I love my uncle--I love him real well. I'm working for him,
+we both are--and we'll work for him to the last. But our work together
+has taught me something, Bill, and when I cotton to teaching there's
+nothing that can knock what I learn out of my head. I've just learned to
+love you, Bill. And, as the Bible says, old Uncle John's got to take
+second place. That's all. If you go under--well, I guess I'll go under
+too."
+
+Jacky gave her lover no chance to reply. As he opened his lips to
+expostulate and took a step towards her she darted away, and disappeared
+into the sitting-room. He followed her in, but the room was empty.
+
+He paused. Then a smile spread over his face.
+
+"I don't fancy we shall go under, little woman," he muttered, "at least,
+not if I can help it."
+
+He turned back to the veranda and strolled away towards the settlement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE PAW OF THE CAT
+
+
+Lablache was alone. Horrocks had left him to set out on his final effort
+to discover Retief's hiding-place. The great man was eagerly waiting for
+his return. Evening was drawing on and the officer had not yet put in an
+appearance, neither had the money-lender received any word from him. In
+consequence he was beginning to hope that Horrocks had succeeded.
+
+All day the wretched man had been tortured by horrid fears. And, as time
+passed and evening drew on, his mood became almost a panic. The
+money-lender was in a deplorable state of mind; his nerves were shaken,
+and he was racked by a dread of he scarce knew what. What he had gone
+through the night before had driven him to the verge of mental collapse.
+No bodily injury could have thus reduced him; for, whatever might have
+been his failings, physical cowardice was not amongst the number. Any
+moral weakness which might have been his had been so obscured by long
+years of success and prosperity, that no one knowing him would have
+believed him to be so afflicted. No, in spite of his present condition
+Lablache was a strong man.
+
+But the frightful mental torture he had endured at Retief's hands had
+told its tale. The attack of the last twenty-four hours had been made
+against him alone; at least, so Lablache understood it. Retief's efforts
+were only in his direction; the raider had robbed him of twenty thousand
+head of cattle; he had burnt his beautiful ranch out, in sheer
+wantonness it seemed to the despairing man; what then would be his next
+move if he were not stopped? What else was there of
+his--Lablache's--that the Breed could attack? His store--yes--yes; his
+store! That was all that was left of his property in Foss River. And
+then--what then? There was nothing after that, except, perhaps--except
+his life.
+
+Lablache stirred in his seat and wheezed heavily as he arrived at this
+conclusion. His horrified thoughts were expressed in the look of fear
+that was in his lashless eyes.
+
+His life--yes! That must be the raider's culminating object. Or would he
+leave him that, so that he might further torture him by burning him out
+of Calford. He pondered fearfully, and hard, practical as was his
+nature, the money-lender allowed his imagination to run riot over
+possibilities which surely his cooler judgment would have scoffed at.
+
+Lablache rose hurriedly from his chair. It only wanted a quarter to
+five. Putting his head through the partition doorway he ordered his
+astonished clerks to close up. He felt that he could not--dare not keep
+the store open longer. Then he inspected the private door of his office.
+The spring catch was fast. He locked his safe. All the time he moved
+about fearfully--like some hunted criminal. At last he returned to his
+seat. His bilious eyes roved over the various objects in the room. A
+hunted look was in them. His mind seemed fixed on one thought alone--the
+coming of Retief.
+
+After this he grew more calm. Perhaps the knowledge that the store was
+secure now against any intruder helped to steady his nerves. Then he
+started--was the store secure? He rose again and went to the window to
+put up the shutter. He gazed out towards the Foss River Ranch, and, as
+he gazed, he saw some one riding fast towards the settlement.
+
+The horseman came nearer; the sight fascinated the great man. Now the
+traveler had reached the market place, and was coming on towards the
+store. Suddenly the money-lender recognized in the horseman one of
+Horrocks's troopers, mounted on a horse from John Allandale's stable. A
+wild hope leapt up in his heart. Then, as the man drew nearer and
+Lablache saw the horrified expression of his face, hope went from him,
+and he feared the worst.
+
+The clatter of hoofs ceased outside the office door. Lablache stepped
+heavily forward and threw it open. He stood framed in the doorway as the
+man gasped out his terrible news.
+
+"He's drowned, sir, drowned before our eyes. We tried, but couldn't save
+him. He would go, sir; we tried to persuade him, but he would go. No
+more than fifty yards from the bank, and then down he went. He was out
+of sight in two minutes. It was horrible, sir, and him never uttered a
+sound. I'm going in to Stormy Cloud to report an' get instructions.
+Anything I can do, sir?"
+
+So the worst was realized. For the moment the money-lender could find no
+words. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. His last hope--the
+last barrier between him and the man whom he considered his arch enemy,
+Retief, seemed to have been shattered. He thought not of the horror of
+the policeman's drowning; he felt no sorrow at the reckless man's
+ghastly end. He merely thought of himself. He saw only how the man's
+death affected his personal interests. At last he gurgled out some
+words. He scarce knew what he said.
+
+"There's nothing to be done. Yes--no--yes, you'd better go up to the
+Allandales," he went on uncertainly. "They'll send a rescue party."
+
+The trooper dashed off and Lablache securely fastened the door. Then he
+put the shutter over the window, and, notwithstanding that it was broad
+daylight still, he lit the lamp.
+
+Once more he returned to his protesting chair, into which he almost
+fell. To him this last catastrophe was as the last straw. What was now
+to become of the settlement; what was to become of him? Horrocks gone;
+the troopers withdrawn, or, at least, without a guiding hand, what
+might Retief not be free to do while the settlement awaited the coming
+of a fresh detachment of police. He impotently cursed the raider. The
+craven weakness, induced by his condition of nervous prostration, was
+almost pitiable. All the selfishness which practically monopolized his
+entire nature displayed itself in his terror. He cared nothing for
+others. He believed that Retief was at war with him alone. He believed
+that the raider sought only his wealth--his wealth which his years of
+hard work and unscrupulous methods had laboriously piled up--the wealth
+he loved and lived for--the wealth which was to him as a god. He thought
+of all he had already lost. He counted it up in thousands, and his eyes
+grew wide with horror and despair as the figures mounted up, up, until
+they represented a great fortune.
+
+The long-suffering chair creaked under him as he flung himself back in
+it, his pasty, heavy-jowled face was ghastly under the lash of
+despairing thought. Only a miser, one of those wretched creatures who
+live only for the contemplation of their hoarded wealth, could
+understand the feelings of the miserable man as he lay back in his
+chair.
+
+The man who had thus reduced the money-lender must have understood his
+nature as did the inquisitors of old understand the weaknesses of their
+victims. For surely he could have found no other vulnerable spot in the
+great man's composition.
+
+The first shock of the trooper's news began to pass. Lablache's mind
+began to balance itself again. Such a state of nerves as was his could
+not last and the man remain sane. Possibly the thought that he was still
+a rich man came to his aid. Possibly the thought of hundreds of
+thousands of dollars sunk in perfect securities, in various European
+centers, toned down the grievousness of his losses. Whatever it was he
+grew calmer, and with calmness his scheming nature reasserted itself.
+
+He moved from his seat and helped himself liberally to the whisky which
+was in his cabinet. He needed the generous spirit, and drank it off at
+a gulp. His chair behind him creaked. He started. His ashen face became
+more ghastly in its hue. He looked round fearfully. Then he understood,
+and he wheezed heavily. Once more he sat himself down, and the warming
+spirit steadily did its work.
+
+Suddenly his mind leapt forward, as it were, from its stagnatory
+condition of abject fear. It traveled swiftly, urged by a pursuing dread
+over plans for the future. The guiding star of his thought was safety.
+At all costs he must find safety for his property and himself. So long
+as Retief was at large there could be no safety for him in Foss River.
+He must get away. He must get away, bearing with him the fruits which
+yet remained to him of his life's toil. He had contemplated retiring
+before. His retirement from business would mean ruin to many of those
+who had borrowed from him he knew, and to those on whose property he
+held mortgages as security. But that could not be helped. He was not
+going to allow himself to suffer through what he considered any
+humanitarian weakness. Yes, he would retire--get away from the reach of
+Retief and his companions, and--ah!
+
+His thoughts merged into another channel--a channel which, under the
+stress of his terrors, had for the moment been obscured. He suddenly
+thought of the Allandales. Here for the instant was a stumbling block.
+Or should he renounce his passion for Jacky? He drummed thoughtfully
+with his finger-tips upon the arms of his chair.
+
+No, why should he give her up? Something of his old nerve was returning.
+He held all the cards. He knew he could, by foreclosing, ruin "Poker"
+John. Why should he give the girl up, and see her calmly secured by that
+cursed Bunning-Ford? His bilious eyes half closed and his sparse
+eyebrows drew together in a deep concentration of thought. Then
+presently his forehead smoothed, and his lashless eyes gleamed wickedly.
+He rose heavily to his feet and labored to and fro across the floor,
+with his beefy hands clasped behind his back.
+
+"Excellent--excellent," he muttered. "The devil could not have designed
+it better." There was a grim, evil smile about his mouth. "Yes, a
+game--a game. It will tickle old John, and will carry out my purpose.
+The mortgages which I hold on his property are nothing to me. Most are
+gambling debts. For the rest the interest has covered the principal. I
+have seen to that. But he is in arrears now. Good--good. Their
+abandonment represents no loss to me--ha, ha." He chuckled mirthlessly.
+"A little game--a gentle flutter, friend John, and the stakes all in my
+favor. But I do not intend to lose. Oh, no. The girl might outwit me if
+I lost. I shall win, and on my wedding day I shall be
+magnanimous--good." He unclasped his hands and rubbed them together
+gleefully.
+
+"The uncle's consent--his persuasion. She will do as he wishes or--ruin.
+It is capital--a flawless scheme. And then to leave Foss River forever.
+God, but I shall be glad," with a return to his nervous dread. He looked
+about him; eagerly, his great paunchy figure pictured grotesquely
+beneath the pasty, fearful face.
+
+"Now to see John," he went on, after a moment's pause. "How--how? I wish
+I could get him here. It would be better here. There would be no chance
+of listening ears. Besides, there is the whisky." He paused again
+thinking. "Yes," he muttered presently. "Delay would be bad. I must not
+give my enemy time. At once--at once. Nothing like doing things at once.
+I must go to John. But--" and he looked dubiously at the darkened
+window--"when I return it will be dark." He picked up his other revolver
+and slipped it into his breast pocket. "Yes, yes, I am getting
+foolish--old. Come along, my friend, we will go."
+
+He seized his hat and went to the office door. He paused with his hand
+upon the lock, and gave one final look round, then he turned the spring
+with a great show of determination and passed out.
+
+It was a different man who left the little office on that evening to
+the man who had for so many years governed the destinies of the smaller
+ranching world of the Foss River district. He had truly said that he was
+getting old--but he did not quite realize how old. His enemies had done
+their work only too well. The terrible consequences of the night of
+terror were to have far-reaching results.
+
+The money-lender set out for the ranch bristling with eagerness to put
+into execution his hastily conceived plan.
+
+He found the old rancher in his sanctum. He was alone brooding over the
+calamity which had befallen the police-officer, and stimulating his
+thought with silent "nippings" at the whisky bottle. He was in a
+semi-maudlin condition when the money-lender entered, and greeted his
+visitor with almost childish effusion.
+
+Lablache saw and understood, and a sense of satisfaction came to him. He
+hoped his task would be easier than he had anticipated. His evil nature
+rose to the occasion, and, for the moment, his own troubles and fears
+were forgotten. There was a cat-like licking of the lips as he
+contemplated the pitiful picture before him.
+
+"Well?" said old John, looking into the other's face with a pair of
+bloodshot eyes, as he re-seated himself after rising to greet his
+visitor. "Well, poor Horrocks has gone--gone, a victim to his sense of
+duty. I guess, Lablache, there are few men would have shown his grit."
+
+"Grit! Yes, that's so." The money-lender had been about to say "folly,"
+but he checked himself. He did not want to offend "Poker" John--now.
+
+"Yes. The poor fellow was too good for his work," he went on, in tones
+of commiseration. "'Tis indeed a catastrophe, John. And we are the
+losers by it. I regret now that I did not altogether agree with him when
+he first came amongst us."
+
+John wagged his head. He looked to be near weeping. His companion's
+sympathetic tone was almost too much for his whisky-laden heart. But
+Lablache had not come here to discuss Horrocks, or, for that matter, to
+sympathize with the gray-headed wreck of manhood before him. He wished
+to find out first of all if anybody was about whom his plans concerned,
+and then to force his proposition upon his old companion. He carefully
+led the rancher to talk of other things.
+
+"The man has gone into Stormy Cloud to report?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And who are they likely to send down in place--ah--of the unfortunate
+Horrocks, think you?"
+
+"Can't say. I guess they'll send a good man. I've asked for more men."
+
+The old man roused somewhat from his maudlin state.
+
+"Ah, that's a good move, John," said the money-lender. "What does Jacky
+think about--these things?"
+
+The question was put carelessly. John yawned, and poured out a "tot" of
+whisky for his friend.
+
+"Guess I haven't seen the child since breakfast. She seemed to take it
+badly enough then."
+
+"Thanks. Aren't you going to have one?" as John pushed the glass over to
+the other.
+
+"Why, yes, man. Never shirk my liquor."
+
+He dashed a quantity of raw spirit into his glass and drank it off.
+Lablache looked on with intense satisfaction. John rose unsteadily, and,
+supporting himself against the furniture as he went, moved over to the
+French window and closed it. Then he lurched heavily back into his chair
+again. His eyes half closed. But he roused at the sound of Lablache's
+guttural tones.
+
+"John, old friend." Muddled as he was the rancher started at the term.
+"I've come to have a long chat with you. This morning I could not talk.
+I was too broken up--too, too ill. Now listen and you shall hear of all
+that happened last night, and then you will the better be able to judge
+of the wisdom of my decision."
+
+John listened while Lablache told his tale. The money-lender embellished
+the facts slightly so as the further to emphasize them. Then, at the
+conclusion of the story of his night's doings, he went on to matters
+which concerned his future.
+
+"Yes, John, there is nothing left for me but to get out of the country.
+Mind this is no sudden determination, but a conclusion I have long
+arrived at. These disastrous occurrences have merely hastened my plans.
+I am not so young as I was, you know," with an attempt at lightness, "I
+simply dare not stay. I fear that Retief will soon attempt my life."
+
+He sighed and looked for sympathy. Old John seemed too amazed to
+respond. He had never realized that the raider's efforts were solely
+directed against Lablache. The money-lender went on.
+
+"And that is why I have come to you, my oldest friend. I feel you should
+be the first to know, for with no one else in Foss River have I lived in
+such perfect harmony. And, besides, you are the most interested."
+
+The latter was in the tone of an afterthought. Strangely enough the
+careless way in which it was spoken carried the words well home to the
+rancher's muddled brain.
+
+"Interested?" he echoed blankly.
+
+"Why, yes. Certainly, you are the most interested. I mean from a
+monetary point of view. You see, the winding up of my business will
+entail the settling up of--er--my books."
+
+"Yes," said the rancher, with doubtful understanding.
+
+"Then--er--you take my meaning as to how--er--how you are interested."
+
+"You mean my arrears of interest," said the gray headed old man dazedly.
+
+"Just so. You will have to meet your liabilities to me."
+
+"But--but--man." The rancher spluttered for words to express himself.
+This was the money-lender's opportunity, and he seized it.
+
+"You see, John, in retiring from business I am not altogether a free
+agent. My affairs are so mixed up with the affairs of the Calford Trust
+and Loan Co. The period of one of your mortgages, for instance--the
+heaviest by the way--has long expired. It has not been renewed. The
+interest is in arrears. This mortgage was arranged by me jointly with
+the Calford Trust and Loan Co. When I retire it will have to be settled
+up. Being my friend I have not troubled you, but doubtless the company
+will have no sentiment about it. As to the others--they are debts of
+honor. I am afraid these things will have to be settled, John. You will
+of course be able to meet them."
+
+"God, man, but I can't," old John exclaimed. "I tell you I can't," he
+reiterated in a despairing voice.
+
+Lablache shrugged his obese shoulders.
+
+"That is unfortunate."
+
+"But, Lablache," said the rancher, gazing with drunken earnestness into
+the other's face, "you will not press me?"
+
+"Why no, John, of course not--as far as I am personally concerned. I
+have known you too long and have too much regard for you and--yours. No,
+no, John; of course I am a business man, but I am still your friend.
+Friend--eh, John--your friend."
+
+The rancher looked relieved, and helped himself to more whisky. Lablache
+joined him and they silently drank. "Poker" John set his empty glass
+down first.
+
+"Now Lablache, about these lia-liabilities," he said with a hiccup.
+"What is to be done?"
+
+"Well, John, we are friends of such old standing that I don't like to
+retire from business and leave you inconvenienced by the process.
+Perhaps there is a way by which I can help you. I am very wealthy--and
+wealth is a great power--a very great power even in this wild region.
+Now, suppose I make a proposition to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"POKER" JOHN ACCEPTS
+
+
+"Ah!"
+
+There was a tone of drunken suspicion about the exclamation which was
+not lost on Lablache.
+
+"If you were suddenly called upon to meet your liabilities to me, John,"
+said the money-lender, smiling, "how would it fix you?"
+
+"It would mean ruin," replied John, hoarsely.
+
+Lablache cleared his throat and snorted. Then he smiled benignly upon
+his old companion.
+
+"That's just what I thought. Well, you're not going to be ruined--by me.
+I'm going to burn the mortgages and settle with the Calford Trust and
+Loan Co. myself--"
+
+The rancher feared to trust his ears.
+
+"That is if you are willing to do something for me."
+
+In his eager hope John Allandale had leant forward so as not to miss a
+word the other said. Now, however, he threw himself back in his chair.
+Some suspicion was in his mind. It might have been intuition. He knew
+Lablache well. He laughed cynically.
+
+"That's more like you," he said roughly.
+
+"One moment," said the money-lender; the smile vanished from his lips.
+"Fair play's good medicine. We'll wipe out your debts if you'll tell
+your niece that you want her to marry me."
+
+"I'll--I'll--"
+
+"Hold on, John," with upraised hand, as the old man purpled with rage
+and started to shout.
+
+"I'll see you damned first!" The rancher had lurched on to his feet and
+his fist came down with a crash upon the corner of the table. Lablache
+remained unmoved.
+
+"Tut tut, man; now listen to me." The old man towered unsteadily over
+him. "I can't understand your antipathy to me as a husband for your
+niece. Give your consent--she'll do it for you--and, on my wedding day,
+I burn those mortgages and I'll settle 100,000 dollars upon Jacky.
+Besides this I'll put 200,000 dollars into your ranch to develop it, and
+only ask ten per cent, of the profits. Can I speak fairer? That girl of
+yours is a good girl, John; too good to kick about the prairie. I'll
+make her a good husband. She shall do as she pleases, live where she
+likes. You can always be with us if you choose. It's no use being riled,
+John, I'm making an honest proposition."
+
+The rancher calmed. In the face of such a generous proposal he could not
+insult Lablache. He was determined, however. It was strange, perhaps,
+that any suggestion for his influence to be used in his niece's choice
+of a husband should have such a violent effect upon him. But "Poker"
+John was a curious mixture of weakness and honor. He loved his niece
+with a doting affection. She was the apple of his eye. To him the
+thought of personal benefit at the cost of her happiness was a
+sacrilege. Lablache understood this. He knew that on this point the
+rancher's feelings amounted to little short of mania. And yet he
+persisted. John's nature was purely obstinate, and obstinacy is
+weakness. The money-lender knew that obstinacy could be broken down by
+steady determination. However, time, with him, was now everything. He
+must clinch the deal with as little delay as possible if he would escape
+from Foss River and the ruinous attacks of Retief. This thought was ever
+present with him and urged him to press the old man hard. If John
+Allandale would not be reasonable, he, Lablache, must force an
+acceptance of his terms from him.
+
+The rancher was mollified. His dulled brain suddenly saw a loop-hole of
+escape.
+
+"I guess you mean well enough, Lablache. But say, ask the child
+yourself."
+
+The other shook his massive head.
+
+"I have--she has refused."
+
+"Then why in thunder do you come to me?"
+
+The angry light was again in the rancher's bloodshot eyes.
+
+"Why? Because she will marry me if you choose. She can't refuse--she
+dare not."
+
+"Then, by God, I'll refuse for her--"
+
+He paused disconcertedly in his wrath. Lablache's cold eyes fixed him
+with their icy stare.
+
+"Very well, John," said Lablache, with a contemptuous shrug. "You know
+the inevitable result of such a hasty decision. It means ruin to
+you--beggary to that poor child." His teeth snapped viciously. Then he
+smiled with his mouth. "I can only put your de--refusal down to utter,
+unworthy selfishness."
+
+"Not selfishness, Lablache--not that. I would sacrifice everything in
+the world for that child--"
+
+"Except your own pleasure--your own personal comforts. Bah, man!" with
+scathing contempt, "your object must be plain to the veriest fool. You
+do not wish to lose her. You fear to lose your best servant lest in
+consequence you find the work of the ranch thrust upon your own hands.
+You would have no time to indulge your love of play. You would no longer
+be able to spend three parts of your time in 'old man' Smith's filthy
+bar. Your conduct is laudable, John--it is worthy of you."
+
+Lablache had expected another outburst of anger, but John only leered in
+response to the other's contempt. Drunk as he was, the rancher saw the
+absurdity of the attack.
+
+"Piffle!" he exclaimed. "Now see, when Jacky comes in you shall hear
+what she has to say."
+
+"Poker" John smiled with satisfaction at his own 'cuteness. He felt that
+he had outwitted the astute usurer. His simplicity, however, was of an
+infantile order.
+
+"That would be useless." Lablache did not want to be confronted with
+Jacky. "My mind is quite made up. The Calford Trust will begin
+proceedings at once, unless--"
+
+"Unless I give my consent."
+
+The satisfaction had suddenly died out of John Allandale's face. Even in
+his maudlin condition he understood the relentless purpose which backed
+the money-lender's proposal. To his credit be it said that he was
+thinking only of Jacky--the one being who was dearer to him than all
+else in the world. For himself he had no thought--he did not care what
+happened. But he longed to save his niece from the threatened
+catastrophe. His seared old face worked in his distress. Lablache beheld
+the sign, and knew that he was weakening.
+
+"Why force me to extremities, John?" he said presently. "If you would
+only be reasonable, I feel sure you would have no matter for regret.
+Now, suppose I went a step further."
+
+"No--no," weakly. There followed a pause. John Allandale avoided the
+other's eyes. To the old man the silence of the room became intolerable.
+He opened his lips to speak. Then he closed them--only to open them
+again. "But--but what step do you propose? Is--is it honest?"
+
+"Perfectly." Lablache was smiling in that indulgent manner he knew so
+well how to assume. "And it might appeal to you. Pressure is a thing I
+hate. Now--suppose we leave the matter to--to chance."
+
+"Chance?" The rancher questioned the other doubtfully.
+
+"Yes--why not?" The money-lender's smile broadened and he leaned forward
+to impress his hearer the more surely. "A little game--a game of poker,
+eh?"
+
+John Allandale shook his head. He failed to grasp the other's meaning.
+
+"I don't understand," he said, struggling with the liquor which fogged
+his dull brain.
+
+"No, of course you don't," easily. "Now listen to me and I'll tell you
+what I mean." The money-lender spoke as though addressing a wayward
+child. "The stakes shall be my terms against your influence with Jacky.
+If you win you keep your girl, and I cancel your mortgages; if I win I
+marry your girl under the conditions I have already offered. It's wholly
+an arrangement for your benefit. All I can possibly gain is your girl.
+Whichever way the game goes I must pay. Saints alive--but what an old
+fool I am!" He laughed constrainedly. "For the sake of a pretty face I'm
+going to give you everything--but there," seriously, "I'd do more to win
+that sweet child for my wife. What d'you say, John?"
+
+There could be no doubt that Lablache meant what he said, only he might
+have put it differently. Had he said that there was nothing at which he
+would stop to secure Jacky, it would have been more in keeping with the
+facts, He meant to marry the girl. His bilious eyes watered. There was a
+sensual look in them. His heavy lips parted and closed with a sucking
+smack as though expressing appreciation of a tasty morsel.
+
+John remained silent, but into his eyes had leapt a gleam which told of
+the lust of gaming aroused. His look--his whole face spoke for him.
+Lablache had primed his hook with an irresistible bait. He knew his man.
+
+"See," he went on, as the other remained silent, "this is the way we can
+arrange it. We will play 'Jackpots' only. The best seven out of
+thirteen. It will be a pretty game, in which, from an outsider's point
+of view, I alone can be the loser. If I win I shall consider myself
+amply repaid. If I lose--well," with an expressive movement of the
+hands, "I will take my chance--as a sportsman should. I love your niece,
+John, and will risk everything to win her. Now, think of it. It will be
+the sweetest, prettiest gamble. And, too, think of the stake. A fortune,
+John--a fortune for you. And for me a bare possibility of realizing my
+hopes."
+
+The old gambler's last vestige of honor struggled to make itself
+apparent in a negative movement of the head. But the movement would not
+come. His thoughts were of the game, and ere yet the last words of the
+money-lender had ceased to sound, he was captured. The satanic cunning
+of the proposal was lost upon his sodden intellect. It was a
+contemptible, pitiable piece of chicanery with which Lablache sought to
+trap the old man into giving his consent and assistance. The
+money-lender had no intention of losing the game. He knew he must win.
+He was merely resorting to this means because he knew the gambling
+spirit of the rancher. He knew that "Poker" John's obstinacy was proof
+against any direct attack; that no persuasion would induce the consent
+he desired. The method of a boxer pounding the body of an opponent whom
+he knows to be afflicted with some organic weakness of the heart is no
+more cowardly than was Lablache's proposal.
+
+The rancher still remained silent. Lablache moved in his chair; one of
+his great fat hands rested for a moment on John's coat sleeve.
+
+"Now, old friend," he said, with a hoarse, whistling breath. "Shall you
+play--play the game? It will be a grand finale to the
+many--er--comfortable games we have played together. Well? Thirteen
+'Jackpots,' John--yes?"
+
+"And--and if I consented--mind, I only say 'if.'" The rancher's face
+twitched nervously.
+
+"You would stand to win a fortune--and also one for your niece."
+
+"Yes--yes. I might win. My luck may turn."
+
+"It must--you cannot always lose."
+
+"Quite right--I must win soon. It is a great offer--a splendid stake."
+
+"It is."
+
+"Yes--yes, Lablache, I will play. God, man! I will play you!"
+
+Beads of sweat stood on John Allandale's forehead as he literally hurled
+his acceptance at his companion. He accepted in the manner of one who
+knows he is setting at defiance all honesty and right, urged to such a
+course by an all-mastering passion, which he is incapable of resisting.
+
+Strange was the nature of this man. He knew himself as it is given to
+few weak men to know themselves. He knew that he wished to do this
+thing. He knew, also, that he was doing wrong. Moreover he knew that he
+wished to stand by Jacky and be true to his great affection for her. He
+was under the influence of potent spirit, and yet his thoughts and
+judgment were clear upon the subject. His mania had possessed him and he
+would play from choice; and all the while he could hear the voice of
+conscience rating him. He would have preferred to play now, but then he
+remembered the quantity of spirit he had consumed. He must take no
+chances. When he played Lablache he must be sober. The delay of one
+night, however, he knew would bring him agonies of remorse, therefore he
+would settle everything now so that in the throes of conscience he could
+not refuse to play. He feared delay. He feared the vacillation which the
+solitary hours of the night might bring to him. He leant forward and
+thickly urged the money-lender.
+
+"When shall it be? Quick, man, let us have no delay. The time,
+Lablache--the time and place."
+
+Lablache wheezed unctuously.
+
+"That's the spirit I like, John," he said, fingering his watch-chain
+with his fat hands. "To business. The place--er--yes." A moment's
+thought whilst the rancher waited with impatience. "Ah, I know. That
+implement shed on your fifty-acre pasture. Excellent. There is a living
+room in it. You used to keep a man there. It is disused now. It will
+suit us admirably. We can use that room. And the time--"
+
+"To-morrow, Lablache. It must be to-morrow. I could not wait longer,"
+broke in the other, in a voice husky with eagerness and liquor. "After
+dark, when no one can see us going out to the shed. No one must know,
+Lablache, mind--no one. Jacky will not dream of what we are doing."
+
+"Very well. To-morrow, then. At eleven o'clock at night, John. And as
+you say in the meantime--mum."
+
+Lablache was pleased with the rancher's suggestion. It quite fell in
+with his own ideas. Everything must be done quickly now. He must get
+away from Foss River without delay.
+
+"Yes--yes. Mum's the word." "Poker" John indicated his approval with an
+upward leer as Lablache rose from his chair, and a grotesque pursing of
+his lips and his forefinger at the side of his nose. Then he, too,
+struggled to his feet, and, with unsteady hand, poured out two stiff
+"horns" of whisky.
+
+He held one out to the money-lender and took the other himself.
+
+"I drink to the game," he said haltingly. "May--fortune come my way."
+
+Lablache nodded comprehensively and slowly raised his glass.
+
+"Fortune is yours anyhow. Therefore I trust that I win the game."
+
+The two men silently drank. After which Lablache turned to go. He paused
+at the French window and plunged his hand into his coat pocket.
+
+The night was dark outside, and again he became a prey to his moral
+terror of the half-breed raider. He drew out his revolver and opened the
+chamber. The weapon was loaded. Then he turned to old John who was
+staring at him.
+
+"It's risky for me to move about at night, John. I fear Retief has not
+done with me yet. Good-night," and he passed out on to the veranda.
+
+Lablache was the victim of a foreboding. It is a custom to laugh at
+forebodings and set them down to the vagaries of a disordered stomach.
+We laugh too at superstition. Yet how often do we find that the
+portentous significance of these things is actually realized in fact.
+Lablache dreaded Retief.
+
+What would the next twenty-four hours bring forth?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+UNCLE AND NIECE
+
+
+"Poker" John's remorse came swiftly, but not swiftly or strongly enough
+to make him give up the game. After Lablache had taken his departure the
+old rancher sat drinking far into the night. With each fresh potation
+his conscience became less persistent in its protest. He sought no bed
+that night, for gradually his senses left him and he slept where he sat,
+until, towards daybreak he awoke, partially sober and shivering with
+cold. Then he arose, and, wrapping himself in a heavy overcoat, flung
+himself upon a couch, where he again sought sobriety in sleep.
+
+He awoke again soon after daylight. His head was racked with pain. He,
+at first, had only a dim recollection of what had occurred the night
+before. There was a vague sense of something unpleasant having happened,
+but he did not attempt to recall it. He went to his bedroom and douched
+himself with cold water. Then he set out for the kitchen in search of
+coffee with which to slack his burning thirst. It was not until he had
+performed his ablutions that the whole truth of his interview with
+Lablache came back to him. Immediately, now that the effect of the
+liquor had passed off, he became a prey to terrible remorse.
+
+Possibly had Jacky been at hand at that moment, the whole course of
+events might have been altered. Her presence, a good breakfast, and
+occupation might have given him strength to carry out the rejection of
+Lablache's challenge which his remorse suggested. However, none of these
+things were at hand, and John Allandale set out, from force of habit, to
+get his morning "Collins" down at "old man" Smith's. Something to pull
+him together before he encountered his niece, he told himself.
+
+It was a fatal delusion. "Old man" Smith sold drink for gain. The more
+he sold the better he liked it. John Allandale's "Collins" developed, as
+it always did now, into three or four potent drinks. So that by the time
+he returned to the ranch for breakfast his remorse was pushed well into
+the background, and with feverish craving he lodged for the fateful
+game.
+
+In spite of his devotion to the bottle John Allandale usually made a
+hearty breakfast. But this morning the sight of Jacky presiding at his
+table upset him, and he left his food almost untasted. Remorse was
+deadened but conscience was yet unsilenced within him. Every time she
+spoke to him, every time he encountered her piercing gray eyes he felt
+himself to be a worse than Judas. In his rough, exaggerated way he told
+himself that he was selling this girl as surely as did the old slave
+owners sell their slaves in bygone days. He endeavored to persuade
+himself that what he was doing was for the best, and certainly that it
+was forced upon him. He would not admit that his mania for poker was the
+main factor in his acceptance of Lablache's terms. Gradually, however,
+his thoughts became intolerable to him, and when Jacky at last remarked
+on the fact that he was eating nothing and drinking only his coffee, he
+could stand it no longer. He pushed his chair back and rose from the
+table, and, muttering an excuse, fled from the room.
+
+Her uncle's precipitate flight alarmed Jacky. She had seen, as anybody
+with half an eye could see, that he had had a heavy night. The bleared
+eyes, the puffed lids, the working, nervous face were simple enough
+evidence. She knew, too, that he had already been drinking this morning.
+But these things were not new to her, only painful facts which she was
+unable to alter; but his strange behavior and lack of appetite were
+things to set her thinking.
+
+She was a very active-minded girl. It was not her way to sit wondering
+and puzzling over anything she could not understand. She had a knack of
+setting herself to unravel problems which required explanation in the
+most common-sense way. After giving her uncle time to leave the
+house--intuition told her that he would do so--she rose and rang the
+bell. Then she moved to the window while she waited for an answer to her
+summons. She saw the burly figure of her uncle walking swiftly down
+towards the settlement and in the direction of the saloon.
+
+She turned with a sigh as a servant entered.
+
+"Did any one call last night while I was out?" she asked.
+
+"Not for you, miss."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"No, miss, but Mr. Lablache was here. He was with your uncle for a long
+time--in the office."
+
+"Did he come in with Mr. Allandale?"
+
+"Oh, no, miss, the master didn't go out. At least not that I know of.
+Mr. Lablache didn't call exactly. I think he just came straight to the
+office. I shouldn't have known he was there, only I was passing the door
+and heard his voice--and the master's."
+
+"Oh, that will do--just wait a moment, though. Say, is Silas around?
+Just find him and send him right along. Tell him to come to the
+veranda."
+
+The servant departed, and Jacky sat down at a writing-table and wrote a
+note to "Lord" Bill. The note was brief but direct in its tone.
+
+"Can you see me this afternoon? Shall be in after tea."
+
+That was all she put, and added her strong, bold signature to it. Silas
+came to the window and she gave him the note with instructions to
+deliver it into the hands of the Hon. Bunning-Ford.
+
+The letter dispatched she felt easier in her mind.
+
+What had Lablache been closeted with her uncle for? This was the
+question which puzzled--nay, alarmed her. She had seen her uncle early
+on the previous evening, and he had seemed happy enough. She wished now,
+when she had returned from visiting Mrs. Abbot, that she had thought to
+see if her uncle was in. It had become such a custom for him lately to
+be out all the evening that she had long ceased her childhood's custom
+of saying "Good-night" to him before retiring to bed. One thing was
+certain, she felt her uncle's strange behavior this morning was in some
+way due to Lablache's visit. She meant to find out what that visit
+meant.
+
+To this end several plans occurred to her, but in each case were
+abandoned as unsuitable.
+
+"No," she murmured at last, "I guess I'll tax him with it. He'll tell
+me. If Lablache means war, well--I've a notion he'll get a hustling he
+don't consider."
+
+Then she left the sitting-room that she might set about her day's work.
+She would see her uncle at dinner-time.
+
+Foss River had not yet risen to the civilized state of late dinners and
+indigestion. Early rising and hard work demanded early meals and hearty
+feeding. Dinner generally occurred at noon--an hour at which European
+society thinks of taking its _déjeuner_. By rising late society can thus
+avoid what little fresh, wholesome air there is to be obtained in a
+large city. Civilization jibs at early rising. Foss River was still a
+wild and savage country.
+
+At noon Jacky came in to dinner. She had not seen her uncle since
+breakfast. The old man had not returned from the settlement. Truth to
+tell he wished to avoid his niece as much as possible for to-day. As
+dinner-time came round he grew nervous and uncomfortable, and was half
+inclined to accept "old man" Smith's invitation to dine at the saloon.
+Then he realized that this would only alarm Jacky and set her thinking.
+Therefore he plucked up the shattered remains of his moral courage and
+returned to the ranch. When a man looses his last grip on his
+self-respect he sinks with cruel rapidity. "Poker" John told himself
+that he was betraying his niece's affection, and with this assurance he
+told himself that he was the lowest-down cur in the country. The natural
+consequence to a man of his habit and propensity was--drink. The one
+time in his life when he should have refrained from indulgence he drank;
+and with each drink he made the fatal promise to himself that it should
+be the last.
+
+When Jacky saw him swaying as he came up towards the house she could
+have cried out in very anguish. It smote her to the heart to see the old
+man whom she so loved in this condition. Yet when he lurched on to the
+veranda she smiled lovingly up into his face and gave no sign that she
+had any knowledge of his state.
+
+"Come right along, uncle," she said gayly, linking her arm within his,
+"dinner is on. You must be good and hungry, you made such a poor
+breakfast this morning."
+
+"Yes, child, I wasn't very well," he mumbled thickly. "Not very
+well--now."
+
+"You poor dear, come along," and she led him in through the open window.
+
+During the meal Jacky talked incessantly. She talked of everything but
+what had upset her uncle. She avoided any reference to Lablache with
+great care. But, in spite of her cheerfulness, she could not rouse the
+degenerate old man. Rather it seemed that, as the meal progressed, he
+became gloomier. The truth was the girl's apparent light-heartedness
+added to his self-revilings and made him feel more criminal than ever.
+He ate his food mechanically, and he drank glass after glass of ale.
+
+Jacky heaved a sigh of relief when the meal was over. She felt that she
+could not much longer have kept up her light-hearted talk. Her uncle was
+about to move from the table. The girl stayed him with a gesture. He had
+eaten a good dinner and she was satisfied. Now she would question him.
+
+It is strange how a woman, in whatever relationship she may stand, loves
+to see a man eat well. Possibly she understands the effect of a good
+dinner upon the man in whom she centers her affection; possibly it is
+the natural maternal instinct for his well-being.
+
+"Uncle, what did Lablache come to see you for last night?"
+
+The question was abrupt. It had the effect of bringing the rancher back
+to his seat with a drunken lurch.
+
+"Eh?" he queried, blinking nervously.
+
+"What did he come for?" Jacky persisted.
+
+The girl could be relentless even with her uncle.
+
+"Lablache--oh--er--talk bus--bus'ness, child--bus'ness," and he
+attempted to get up from his chair again.
+
+But Jacky would not let him go.
+
+"Wait a moment, uncle dear, I want to talk to you. I sha'n't keep you
+long." The old man looked anywhere but at his companion. A cold sweat
+was on his forehead, and his cheek twitched painfully under the steady
+gaze of the girl's somber eyes. "I don't often get a chance of talking
+to you now," she went on, with a slight touch of bitterness. "I just
+want to talk about that skunk, Lablache. I guess he didn't pass the
+evening talking of Retief--and what he intends to do towards his
+capture? Say, uncle, what was it about?"
+
+The old man grasped at the suggestion.
+
+"Yes--yes, child. It was Retief."
+
+He kept his eyes averted. The girl was not deceived.
+
+"All the time?"
+
+"Poker" John remained silent. He would have lied but could not.
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+Her tone was a moral pressure. The old man turned for relief to his
+avuncular authority.
+
+"I must go. You've no right--question me," he stuttered. "I refu--"
+
+"No, uncle, you won't refuse me." The girl had risen and had moved round
+to where the old man sat. She fondled him lovingly and his attempt at
+angry protest died within him. "Come, dear, tell me all about it. You
+are worried and I can help you. What did he threaten you with? I
+suppose he wants money," contemptuously. "How much?"
+
+The old drunkard was powerless to resist her loving appeal.
+
+He was cornered. Another might have lied and so escaped, but John
+Allandale's weakness was such that he had not the courage to resort to
+subterfuge. Moreover, there was a faint spark of honor nickering deep
+down in his kindly heart. The girl's affectionate display was surely
+fanning that spark into a flame. Would the flame grow or would it
+sparkle up for one brief moment and then go out from pure lack of fuel?
+Suddenly something of the truth of the cause of her uncle's distress
+flashed across Jacky's mind. She knew Lablache's wishes in regard to
+herself. Perhaps she was the subject of that interview.
+
+"Uncle, it is I who am causing you this trouble. What is it that
+Lablache wants of me?" She asked the question with her cheek pressed to
+the old man's face. His whisky-laden breath reeked in her nostrils.
+
+Her question took him unawares, and he started up pushing her from him.
+
+"Who--who told you, girl?" His bleared eyes were now turned upon her,
+and they gazed fearfully into hers.
+
+"I thought so," she exclaimed, smiling back into the troubled face. "No
+one told me, uncle, I guess that beast wants to marry me. Say, uncle,
+you can tell me everything right here. I'll help you. He's smart, but he
+can't mate with me."
+
+"But--but--" He struggled to collect his thoughts.
+
+"No 'buts,' dear. I've refused Lablache once. I guess I can size up the
+racket he thinks to play. Money--money! He'd like to buy me, I take it.
+Say, uncle, can't we frolic him some? Now--what did he say?"
+
+"I--can't tell you, child," the old man protested desperately. Then he
+weakened further before those deep, steadfast eyes. "Don't--press me.
+Don'--press me." His voice contained maudlin tears. "I'm a vill'n,
+girl. I'm worse. Don'--look a' me--like that.
+Ja'y--Ja'y--I've--sol'--you!"
+
+The miserable old man flung himself back in his chair and his head bowed
+until his chin sank heavily upon his chest. Two great tears welled into
+his bloodshot eyes and trickled slowly down his seared old cheeks. It
+was a pitiable sight. Jacky looked on silently for a moment. Her eyes
+took in every detail of that picture of despair. She had heard the old
+man's words but took no heed of them. She was thinking very hard.
+Suddenly she seemed to arrive at a decision. Her laugh rang out, and she
+came and knelt at her uncle's side.
+
+"So you've sold me, you old dear, and not a bad thing too. What's the
+price?"
+
+Her uncle raised his bowed head. Her smiling face dried his tears and
+put fresh heart into him. He had expected bitter invective, but instead
+the girl smiled.
+
+Jacky's task now became a simple one. A mere matter of pumping. Sharp
+questions and rambling replies. Bit by bit she learned the story of
+Lablache's proposal and the manner in which an acceptance had been
+forced upon her uncle. She did not relinquish her task until the
+minutest detail had been gleaned. At last she was satisfied with her
+cross-examination.
+
+She rose to her feet and passed her hand with a caressing movement over
+her uncle's head, gazing the while out of the window. Her mind was made
+up. Her uncle needed her help now. That help should be his. She condoned
+his faults; she saw nothing but that which was lovable in his weakness.
+Hers was now the strength to protect him, who, in the days of his best
+manhood had sheltered her from the cruel struggles of a life in the
+half-breed camp, for such, at the death of her impecunious father, must
+otherwise have been her lot.
+
+Now she looked down into that worn, old face, and her brisk,
+business-like tones roused him into new life.
+
+"Uncle, you must meet Lablache and play--the game. For the rest, leave
+it to me. All I ask is--no more whisky to-day. Stay right here and have
+a sleep. Guess you might go an' lie down. I'll call you for supper. Then
+you'll be fit. One thing you must remember; watch that ugly-faced cur
+when you play. See he don't cheat any. I'll tell you more before you
+start out. Come right along now and have that sleep."
+
+The old man got up and the girl led him from the room. She saw him to
+his bedroom and then left him. She decided that, for herself, she would
+not leave the house until she had seen Bill. She must get her uncle
+sober before he went to meet Lablache.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX
+
+
+Foss River Settlement was, at the time, a very small place, and of
+practically no importance. It was brought into existence by the
+neighborhood of one or two large ranches; these ranches employed
+considerable labor. Foss River might be visited by an earthquake, and,
+provided the earthquake was not felt elsewhere, the world would not be
+likely to hear of it for weeks. The newspapers of the Western cities
+were in their infancy, and contented themselves with the news of their
+own towns and feverish criticisms of politics which were beyond the
+understanding of their editors. Progress in the West was very
+slow--almost at a standstill.
+
+After the death of Horrocks the police had withdrawn to report and to
+receive augmentation. No one felt alarm at their absence. The
+inhabitants of Foss River were a self-reliant people--accustomed to look
+to themselves for the remedy of a grievance. Besides, Horrocks, they
+said, had shown himself to be a duffer--merely a tracker, a prairie-man
+and not the man to bring Retief to justice. Already the younger members
+of the settlement and district were forming themselves into a vigilance
+committee. The elders--those to whom the younger looked for a lead in
+such matters--had chosen to go to the police; now the younger of the
+settlement decided to act for themselves.
+
+This was the condition and feeling in Foss River at the time of the
+death of Horrocks; this was the state of affairs when the _insouciant_
+Bill leisurely strolled into the sitting-room at the Foss River Ranch,
+about the time that Joaquina Allandale had finished her tea. With the
+familiarity of the West, Bill entered by the French window. His lazy
+smile was undisturbed. He might have been paying an ordinary call
+instead of answering a summons which he knew must be a matter of
+emergency, for it was understood between these two that private meetings
+were tabooed, except when necessity demanded them.
+
+Jacky's greeting was not reassuring, but her lover's expression remained
+unchanged, except that his weary eyelids further unclosed.
+
+"Guess we're side-tracked, Bill," she said meaningly. "The line's
+blocked. Signals dead against us."
+
+Bill looked into her eyes; then he turned and closed the window,
+latching it securely. The door was closed. His keen eyes noted this.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+The girl shrugged.
+
+"The next twelve hours must finish our game."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes," the girl went on, "it is Lablache's doing. We must settle our
+reckoning with him to-night."
+
+Bill flung himself into a chair.
+
+"Will you explain?--I don't understand. May I smoke?"
+
+Jacky smiled. The request was so unnecessary. She always liked Bill's
+nonchalance. It conveyed such a suggestion of latent power.
+
+"Yes, smoke, Bill; smoke and get your thinking box in order. My yarn
+won't take a deal of time to tell. But it'll take a deal of thought to
+upset Lablache's last move, without--shootin'."
+
+"Um--shooting's an evil, but sometimes--necessary. What's his racket?"
+
+The girl told her story quickly. She forgot nothing. She never allowed
+herself to fall into the womanly mistake of omitting details, however
+small.
+
+Bill fully appreciated her cleverness in this direction. He could trust
+what she said implicitly. At the conclusion of the story he sat up and
+rolled another cigarette.
+
+"And your uncle is upstairs in bed?"
+
+"Yes, when he wakes I guess he'll need a bracer. He'll be sober. He must
+play. Lablache means to win."
+
+"Yes, he means to win. He has had a bad scare."
+
+"What are we going to do?"
+
+The girl eyed her lover keenly. She saw by his manner that he was
+thinking rapidly.
+
+"The game must be interrupted--with another scare."
+
+"What?"
+
+Bill shrugged and laughed.
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Burn him out--his store. And then--"
+
+"And then?" eagerly.
+
+"Retief will be present at the game. Tell him what has happened and--if
+he doesn't leave Foss River--shoot him. Mortgages and all records of
+debts, etc., are in his store."
+
+"Good."
+
+After expressing her approval the girl sat gazing into her lover's face.
+They talked a little longer, then Bill rose to go.
+
+"Eleven o'clock to-night you say is the appointed hour?"
+
+"Yes. I shall meet you at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture."
+
+"Better not."
+
+"Yes, I am going to be there," with a decisive nod. "One cannot be sure.
+You may need me."
+
+"Very well. Good-by, little woman." "Lord" Bill bent and kissed her.
+Then something very like a sigh escaped him. "I think with you this game
+is nearly up. To-night will settle things one way or the other."
+
+"Yes. Trouble is not far off. Say, Bill, when it comes, I want to be
+with you."
+
+Bill looked tenderly down into the upturned face.
+
+"Is that why you insist on coming to-night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Another embrace and Bill left the house.
+
+He sauntered leisurely down the avenue of pines. He kept straight on
+towards the muskeg. Then he turned away from the settlement, and was
+soon lost behind the rising ground which shored the great mire. Once out
+of sight of the house he quickened his pace, gradually swinging away
+from the keg, and heading towards the half-breed camp.
+
+Foss River might have been deserted for all signs of life he
+encountered. The prairie was calmly silent. Not even the call of the
+birds broke the stillness around. The heat of the afternoon had lulled
+all nature to repose.
+
+He strode on swiftly until he came to a small bluff. Here he halted and
+threw himself full length upon the ground in a welcome shade. He was
+within sight of the half-breed camp. He shifted his position until his
+head was in the sun. In this way he could see the scattered dwellings of
+the prairie outcasts. Then he drew a small piece of looking-glass from
+his pocket and held it out in the sun. Turning and twisting it in the
+direction of the camp, as might a child who wishes to dazzle a
+play-fellow's eyes. For several minutes he thus manipulated his
+impromptu heliograph. Then, as he suddenly beheld an answering flash in
+the distance, he desisted, and returned the glass to his pocket. Now he
+drew back in the shade and composed himself to smoke.
+
+The half-closed eyes of the recumbent man gazed steadily out towards the
+camp. He had nearly finished his third cigarette when his quick ears
+caught the sound of footsteps. Instantly he sat up. The steps grew
+louder and then round the sheltering bush came the thick-set form of
+Gautier. He was accompanied by an evil-looking dog which growled sulkily
+as it espied the white man.
+
+"Ugh! Hot walkin'," said the newcomer, by way of greeting.
+
+"Not so hot as it'll be to-night," said the white man, quietly. "Sit
+down."
+
+"More bonfires, boss?" said the half-breed, with a meaning grin, seating
+himself as he spoke.
+
+"More bonfires. See you, I want six of the boys at Lablache's store
+to-night at eleven o'clock. We are going to burn his place. It will be
+quite easy. Lablache will be away, and only his clerks on the premises.
+The cellar underneath the building is lit by barred windows, two under
+the front, and two under the office at the back. All you have to do is
+to break the glass of the window at the back and pour in a couple of
+gallons of coal oil. Then push in some straw, and then light a piece of
+oil-soaked rope and drop it in. The cellar is full of cases of goods and
+barrels of oil. The fire will be unextinguishable. Directly it is well
+lit see that the clerks are warned. We want no lives lost. You
+understand? The stables are adjacent and will catch fire too. I sha'n't
+be there until later. There will be no risk and lots of loot. Savee?"
+
+The cunning face of the half-breed was lit by an unholy grin. He rubbed
+his hands with the unctuous anticipation of a shop-walker. Truly, he
+thought, this white man was a man after his own heart. He wagged his
+head in approval.
+
+"Easy--easy? It is childlike," he said in ecstasy. "I have long thought
+of it, sure. An' thar is a big store of whisky thar, eh, boss?
+Good--good! And what time will you come?"
+
+"When the fire is lit. I go to deal with Lablache. Look you here,
+Gautier, you owe that man a grudge. You would kill him but you don't
+dare. I may pay off that grudge for you. Pay it by a means that is
+better than killing."
+
+"Torture," grinned the half-breed.
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Now see and be off. And don't make any mistake, or we may all swing for
+it. Tell Baptiste he must go over the keg at once and bring Golden Eagle
+to my shack at about half-past ten. Tell him to be punctual. Now scoot.
+No mistakes, or--" and Bill made a significant gesture.
+
+The man understood and hurried away. "Lord" Bill was satisfied that his
+orders would be carried out to the letter. The service he demanded of
+this man was congenial service, in so far that it promised loot in
+plenty and easily acquired. Moreover, the criminal side of the
+half-breed's nature was tickled. A liberal reward for honesty would be
+less likely to secure good service from such as Gautier than a chance of
+gain for shady work. It was the half-breed nature.
+
+After the departure of the half-breed, Bill remained where he was for
+some time. He sat with his hands clasped round his knees, gazing
+thoughtfully out towards the camp. He was reviewing his forces and
+mentally struggling to penetrate the pall which obscured the future. He
+felt himself to be playing a winning game; at least, that his vengeance
+and chastisement of Lablache had been made ridiculously easy for him.
+But now he had come to that point when he wondered what must be the
+outcome of it all as regarded himself and the girl he loved. Would his
+persecution drive Lablache from Foss River to the security of Calford,
+Where he would be able to follow him and still further prosecute his
+inexorable vengeance? Or would he still choose to remain? He knew
+Lablache to be a strong man, but he also knew, by the money-lender's
+sudden determination to force Jacky into marriage with him, that he had
+received a scare. He could not decide on the point. But he inclined to
+the belief that Lablache must go after to-night. He would not spare him.
+He had yet a trump card to play. He would be present at the game of
+cards, and--well, time would show.
+
+He threw away his mangled cigarette end and rose from the ground. One
+glance of his keen eyes told him that no one was in sight. He strolled
+out upon the prairie and made his way back to the settlement. He need
+not have troubled himself about the future. The future would work itself
+out, and no effort of his would be capable of directing its course. A
+higher power than man's was governing the actions of the participants in
+the Foss River drama.
+
+For the rest of the day "Lord" Bill moved about the settlement in his
+customary idle fashion. He visited the saloon; he showed himself on the
+market-place. He discussed the doings of Retief with the butcher, the
+smith, Dr. Abbot. And, as the evening closed in and the sun's power
+lessened, he identified himself with others as idle as himself, and
+basked in the warmth of its feeble, dying rays.
+
+When darkness closed in he went to his shack and prepared his evening
+meal with a simple directness which no thoughts of coming events could
+upset. Bill was always philosophical. He ate to live, and consequently
+was not particular about his food. He passed the evening between thought
+and tobacco, and only an occasional flashing of his lazy eyes gave any
+sign of the trend of his mental effort.
+
+At a few minutes past ten he went into his bedroom and carefully locked
+the door. Then he drew from beneath his bed a small chest; it was an
+ammunition chest of very powerful make. The small sliding lid was
+securely padlocked. This he opened and drew from within several articles
+of apparel and a small cardboard box.
+
+Next he divested himself of his own tweed clothes and donned the things
+he had taken from the box. These consisted of a pair of moleskin
+trousers, a pair of chaps, a buckskin shirt and a battered Stetson hat.
+From the cardboard box he took out a tin of greasy-looking stuff and a
+long black wig made of horse hair. Stepping to a glass he smeared his
+face with the grease, covering his own white flesh carefully right down
+to the chest and shoulders, also his hands. It was a brownish ocher and
+turned his skin to the copperish hue of the Indian. The wig was
+carefully adjusted and secured by sprigs to his own fair hair. This,
+with the hat well jammed down upon his head, completed the
+transformation, and out from the looking-glass peered the strong, eagle
+face of the redoubtable half-breed, Retief.
+
+He then filled the chest with his own clothes and relocked it. Suddenly
+his quick ear caught the sound of some one approaching. He looked at his
+watch; it wanted two minutes to half-past ten. He waited.
+
+Presently he heard the rattle of a stick down the featheredged boarding
+of the outer walls of the hut. He picked up his revolver belt and
+secured it about his waist, and then, putting out the light, unlocked
+the back door which opened out of his bedroom.
+
+A horse was standing outside, and a man held the bridle reins looped
+upon his arm.
+
+"That you, Baptiste?"
+
+"Yup."
+
+"Good, you are punctual."
+
+"It's as well."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I go to join the boys," the half-breed said slowly. "And you?"
+
+"I--oh, I go to settle a last account with Lablache," replied Bill, with
+a mirthless laugh.
+
+"Where?"
+
+Bill looked sharply at the man. He understood the native distrust of the
+Breed. Then he nodded vaguely in the direction of the Foss River Ranch.
+
+"Yonder. In old John's fifty-acre pasture. Lablache and John meet at the
+tool-shed there to-night. Why?"
+
+"And you go not to the fire?" Baptiste's voice had a surprised ring in
+it.
+
+"Not until later. I must be at the meeting soon after eleven."
+
+The half-breed was silent for a minute. He seemed to be calculating. At
+length he spoke. His words conveyed resolve.
+
+"It is good. Guess you may need assistance. I'll be there--and some of
+the boys. We ain't goin' ter interfere--if things goes smooth."
+
+Bill shrugged.
+
+"You need not come."
+
+"No? Nuthin' more?"
+
+"Nothing. Keep the boys steady. Don't burn the clerks in the store."
+
+"No."
+
+"S'long."
+
+"S'long."
+
+"Lord" Bill vaulted into the saddle, and Golden Eagle moved restively
+away.
+
+It was as well that Foss River was a sleepy place. "Lord" Bill's
+precautions were not elaborate. But then he knew the ways of the
+settlement.
+
+Dr. Abbot chanced to be standing in the doorway of the saloon. Bill's
+shack was little more than a hundred yards away. The doctor was about to
+step across to see if he were in, for the purpose of luring his friend
+into a game. Poker was not so plentiful with the doctor now since Bill
+had dropped out of Lablache's set.
+
+He saw the dim outline of a horseman moving away from the back of "Lord"
+Bill's hut. His curiosity was aroused. He hastened across to the shack.
+He found it locked up, and in darkness. He turned away wondering. And as
+he turned away he found himself almost face to face with Baptiste. The
+doctor knew the man.
+
+"Evening, Baptiste."
+
+"Evening," the man growled.
+
+The doctor was about to speak again but the man hurried away.
+
+"Damned funny," the medical man muttered. Then he moved off towards his
+own home. Somehow he had forgotten his wish for poker.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE LAST GAMBLE
+
+
+The fifty-acre pasture was situated nearly a quarter of a mile away to
+the left of John Allandale's house. Then, too, the whole length of it
+must be crossed before the implement shed be reached. This would add
+another half a mile to the distance, for the field was long and narrow,
+skirting as it did the hay slough which provided the ranch with hay. The
+pasture was on the sloping side of the slough, and on the top of the
+ridge stretched a natural fence of pines nearly two miles in extent.
+
+The shed was erected for the accommodation of mowers, horse-rakes, and
+the necessary appurtenances for haying. At one end, as Lablache had
+said, was a living-room. It was called so by courtesy. It was little
+better than the rest of the building, except that there was a crazy door
+to it--also a window; a rusty iron stove, small, and--when a fire burned
+in it--fierce, was crowded into a corner. Now, however, the stove was
+dismantled, and lengths of stove pipe were littered about the floor
+around it. A rough bed, supported on trestles, and innocent of bedding,
+filled one end of this abode; a table made of packing cases, and two
+chairs of the Windsor type, one fairly sound and the other minus a back,
+completed the total of rude furniture necessary for a "hired man's"
+requirements.
+
+A living-room, the money-lender had said, therefore we must accept his
+statement.
+
+A reddish, yellow light from a dingy oil lamp glowed sullenly, and added
+to the cheerlessness of the apartment. At intervals black smoke belched
+from the chimney top of the lamp in response to the draughts which blew
+through the sieve-like boarding of the shed. One must feel sorry for
+the hired man whose lot is cast in such cheerless quarters.
+
+It was past eleven. Lablache and John Allandale were seated at the
+table. The lurid light did not improve the expression of their faces.
+
+"Poker" John was eager--keenly eager now that Jacky had urged him to the
+game. Moreover, he was sober--sober as the proverbial "judge." Also he
+was suspicious of his opponent. Jacky had warned him. He looked very old
+as he sat at that table. His senility appeared in every line of his
+face; in every movement of his shaking hands; in every glance of his
+bleared eyes.
+
+Lablache, also, was changed slightly, but it was not in the direction of
+age; he showed signs of elation, triumph. He felt that he was about to
+accomplish the object which had long been his, and, at the same time,
+outwit the half-breed who had so lately come into his life, with such
+disastrous results to his, the money-lender's, peaceful enjoyment of his
+ill-gotten wealth.
+
+Lablache turned his lashless eyes in the direction of the window. It was
+a square aperture of about two feet in extent.
+
+"We are not likely to be interrupted," he said wheezily, "but it never
+does to chance anything. Shall we cover the window? A light in this room
+is unusual--"
+
+"Yes, let us cover it." "Poker" John chafed at the delay. "No one is
+likely to come this way, though."
+
+Lablache looked about for something which would answer his purpose.
+There was nothing handy. He drew out his great bandanna and tried it. It
+exactly covered the window. So he secured it. It would serve to darken
+the light to any one who might chance to be within sight of the shed. He
+returned to his seat. He bulged over it as he sat down, and its legs
+creaked ominously.
+
+"I have brought three packs of cards," he said, laying them upon the
+table.
+
+"So have I."
+
+"Poker" John looked directly into the other's bilious eyes.
+
+"Ah--then we have six packs."
+
+"Yes--six."
+
+"Whose shall we--" Lablache began.
+
+"We'll cut for it. Ace low. Low wins."
+
+The money-lender smiled at the rancher's eagerness. The two men cut in
+silence. Lablache cut a "three"; "Poker" John, a "queen."
+
+"We will use your cards, John." The money-lender's face expressed an
+unctuous benignity.
+
+The rancher was surprised, and his tell-tale cheek twitched
+uncomfortably.
+
+"For deal," said Lablache, stripping one of John's packs and passing it
+to his companion. The rancher shuffled and cut--Lablache cut. The deal
+went to the latter.
+
+"We want something to score on," the money-lender said. "My memorandum
+pad--"
+
+"We'll have nothing on the table, please." John had been warned.
+
+Lablache shrugged and smiled. He seemed to imply that the precaution was
+unnecessary. "Poker" John was in desperate earnest.
+
+"A piece of chalk--on the wall." The rancher produced the chalk and set
+it on the floor close by the wall and returned to his seat.
+
+Lablache shuffled clumsily. His fingers seemed too gross to handle
+cards. And yet he could shuffle well, and his fingers were, in reality,
+most sensitive. John Allandale looked on eagerly. The money-lender,
+contrary to his custom, dealt swiftly--so swiftly that the bleared eyes
+of his opponent could not follow his movements.
+
+Both men picked up their cards. The old instincts of poker were not so
+pronounced in the rancher as they used to be. Doubtless the game he was
+now playing did not need such mask-like impassivity of expression as an
+ordinary game would. After all, the pot opened, it merely became a
+question of who held the best hand. There would be no betting. John's
+eyes lighted up as he glanced at the index numerals. He held two
+"Jacks."
+
+"Can you?" Lablache's husky voice rasped in the stillness.
+
+"Yes."
+
+The dealer eyed his opponent for a second. His face was that of a graven
+image.
+
+"How many?"
+
+"Three."
+
+The money-lender passed three cards across the table. Then he discarded
+two cards from his own hand and drew two more.
+
+"What have you got?" he asked, with a grim pursing of his sagging lips.
+
+"Two pairs. Jacks up."
+
+Lablache laid his own cards on the table, spreading them out face
+upwards for the rancher to see. He held three "twos."
+
+"One to you," said John Allandale; and he went and chalked the score
+upon the wall.
+
+There was something very business-like about these two men when they
+played cards. And possibly it was only natural. The quiet way in which
+they played implied the deadly earnestness of their game. Their
+surroundings, too, were impressive when associated with the secrecy of
+their doings.
+
+Each man meant to win, and in both were all the baser passions fully
+aroused. Neither would spare the other, each would do his utmost.
+Lablache was sure. John was consumed with a deadly nervousness. But John
+Allandale at cards was the soul of honor. Lablache was confident in his
+superior manipulation--not play--of cards. He knew that, bar accidents,
+he must win. The mystery of being able to deal himself "three of a kind"
+and even better was no mystery to him. He preferred his usual
+method--the method of "reflection," as he called it; but in the game he
+was now playing such a method would be useless for obvious reasons.
+First of all, knowing his opponent's cards would only be of advantage
+where betting was to ensue. Now he needed the clumsier, if more sure,
+method of dealing himself a hand. And he did not hesitate to adopt it.
+
+"Poker" John dealt The pot was not opened. Lablache again dealt. Still
+the hand passed without the pot being opened. The next time John dealt
+Lablache opened the pot and was promptly beaten. He drew to two queens
+and missed. John drew to a pair of sevens and got a third. The game was
+one all. After this Lablache won three pots in succession and the game
+stood four--one, in favor of the money-lender.
+
+The old rancher's face more than indicated the state of the game. His
+features were gray and drawn. Already he saw his girl married to the man
+opposite to him. For an instant his weakness led him to think of
+refusing to play further--to defy Lablache and bid him do his worst.
+Then he remembered that the girl herself had insisted that he must see
+the game through--besides, he might yet win. He forced his thoughts to
+the coming hand. He was to deal.
+
+The deal, as far as he was concerned, was successful, His spirits rose.
+
+Four--two.
+
+Lablache took up the cards to deal. John was watching as though his life
+depended upon what he saw. Lablache's clumsy shuffle annoyed him. The
+lashless eyes of the money-lender were bent upon the cards, but he had
+no difficulty in observing the old man's attention. This unusual
+attention he set down to a natural excitement. He had not the smallest
+idea that the old man suspected him. He passed the cards to be cut. The
+rancher cut them carelessly. He had a natural cut. The pack was nearly
+halved. Lablache had prepared for this.
+
+The hand was dealt, and the money-lender won with three aces, all of
+which he had drawn in a five-card draw. He had discarded a pair of nines
+to make the heavy draw. It was clumsy, but he had been forced to it. The
+position of the aces in the pack he had known, and--well, he meant to
+win.
+
+Five--two.
+
+The clumsiness of that deal was too palpable. Old John suspected, but
+held his tongue. His anger rose, and the drawn face flushed with the
+suddenness of lightning. He was in a dangerous mood. Lablache saw the
+flush, and a sudden fear gripped his heart. He passed the cards to the
+other, and then, involuntarily, his hand dropped into the right-hand
+pocket of his coat. It came in contact with his revolver--and stayed
+there.
+
+The next hand passed without the pot being opened--and the next.
+Lablache was a little cautious. The next deal resulted in favor of the
+rancher.
+
+Five--three.
+
+Lablache again took the cards. This time he meant to get his hand in the
+deal. At that moment the money-lender would have given a cool thousand
+had a bottle of whisky been on the table. He had not calculated on John
+being sober. He shuffled deliberately and offered the pack to be cut.
+John cut in the same careless manner, but this time he did it purposely.
+Lablache picked up the bottom half of the cut. There was a terrible
+silence in the room, and a deadly purpose was expressed in "Poker"
+John's eyes.
+
+The money-lender began to deal. In an instant John was on his feet and
+lurched across the table. His hand fell upon the first card which
+Lablache had dealt to himself.
+
+"The ace of clubs," shouted the rancher, his eyes blazing and his body
+fairly shaking with fury. He turned the card over. It was the ace of
+clubs.
+
+"Cheat!" he shouted.
+
+He had seen the card at the bottom of the pack as the other had ceased
+to shuffle.
+
+There was an instant's thrilling pause. Then Lablache's hand flew to
+his pocket. He had heard the click of a cocking revolver.
+
+For the moment the rancher's old spirit rose superior to his senile
+debility.
+
+"God in heaven! And this is how you've robbed me, you--you bastard!"
+
+"Poker" John's seared face was at that moment the face of a maniac. He
+literally hurled his fury at the money-lender, who was now standing
+confronting him.
+
+"It is the last time, if--if I swing for it. Prairie law you need, and,
+Hell take you, you shall have it!"
+
+He swung himself half round. Simultaneously two reports rang out. They
+seemed to meet in one deafening peal, which was exaggerated by the
+smallness of the room. Then all was silence.
+
+Lablache stood unmoved, his yellow eyeballs gleaming wickedly. For a
+second John Allandale swayed while his face assumed a ghastly hue. Then
+in deathly silence he slowly crumpled up, as it were. No sound passed
+his lips and he sank in a heap upon the floor. His still smoking pistol
+dropped beside him from his nerveless fingers.
+
+The rancher had intended to kill Lablache, but the subtle money-lender
+had been too quick. The lashless eyes watched the deathly fall of the
+old man. There was no expression in them but that of vengeful coldness.
+He was accustomed to the unwritten laws of the prairie. He knew that he
+had saved his life by a hair's-breadth. His right hand was still in his
+coat pocket. He had fired through the cloth of the coat.
+
+Some seconds passed. Still Lablache did not move. There was no remorse
+in his heart--only annoyance. He was thinking with the coolness of a
+callous nerve. He was swiftly calculating the effect of the catastrophe
+as regarded himself. It was the worst thing that could have happened to
+him. Shooting was held lightly on the prairie, he knew, but--Then he
+slowly drew his pistol from his pocket and looked thoughtfully at it.
+His caution warned him of something. He withdrew the empty cartridge
+case and cleaned out the barrel. Then he put a fresh cartridge in the
+chamber and returned the pistol to his pocket. He was very deliberate,
+and displayed no emotion. His asthmatical breathing, perhaps, might have
+been more pronounced than usual. Then he gathered up the cards from
+floor and table, and wiped out the score upon the wall. He put the cards
+in his pocket. After that he stirred the body of his old companion with
+his foot. There was no sound from the prostrate rancher. Then the
+money-lender gently lowered himself to his knees and placed his hand
+over his victim's heart. It was still. John Allandale was dead.
+
+It was now for the first time that Lablache gave any sign of emotion. It
+was not the emotion of sorrow--merely fear--susperstitious fear. As he
+realized that the other was dead his head suddenly turned. It was an
+involuntary movement. And his fishy eyes gazed fearfully behind him. It
+was his first realization of guilt. The brand of Cain must inevitably
+carry with it a sense of horror to him who falls beneath its ban. He was
+a murderer--and he knew it.
+
+Now his-movements became less deliberate. He felt that he must get away
+from that horrid sight. He rose swiftly, with a display of that agility
+which the unfortunate Horrocks had seen. He glanced about the room and
+took his bearings. He strode to the lamp and put it out. Then he groped
+his way to the window and took down his bandanna; stealthily, and with a
+certain horror, he felt his way in the darkness to the door. He opened
+it and passed out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+SETTLING THE RECKONING
+
+
+Jacky stood at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture. She had been standing
+there for some minutes. The night was quite dark; there was no moon. Her
+horse, Nigger, was standing hitched to one of the fence posts a few
+yards away from her and inside the pasture. The girl was waiting for
+"Lord" Bill.
+
+Not a sound broke the stillness of the night as she stood listening. A
+wonderful calmness was over all. From her position Jacky had seen the
+light shining through the window of the implement shed. Now the shed was
+quite dark--the window had been covered. She knew that her uncle and
+Lablache were there. She was growing impatient.
+
+Every now and then she would turn her face from the contemplation of the
+blackness of the distant end of the field to the direction of the
+settlement, her ears straining to catch the sound of her dilatory
+lover's coming. The minutes passed all too swiftly. And her impatience
+grew and found vent in irritable movements and sighs of vexation.
+
+Suddenly her ears caught the sound of distant cries coming from the
+settlement. She turned in the direction. A lurid gleam was in the sky.
+Then, as she watched, the glare grew brighter, and sparks shot up in a
+great wreathing cloud of smoke. The direction was unmistakable. She knew
+that Lablache's store had been fired.
+
+"Good," she murmured, with a sigh of relief. "I guess Bill'll come right
+along now. I wish he'd come. They've been in that shack ten minutes or
+more. Why don't he come?"
+
+The glare of the fire fascinated her, and her eyes remained glued in the
+direction of it. The reflection in the sky was widespread and she knew
+that the great building must be gutted, for there was no means of
+putting the fire out. Then her thoughts turned to Lablache, and she
+smiled as she thought of the surprise awaiting him. The sky in the
+distance grew brighter. She could only see the lurid reflection; a
+rising ground intervened between her and the settlement.
+
+Suddenly against the very heart of the glare the figure of a horseman
+coming towards her was silhouetted as he rode over the rising ground.
+One glance sufficed the girl. That tall, thin figure was
+unmistakable--her lover was hastening towards her. She turned to her
+horse and unhitched the reins from the fence post.
+
+Presently Bill came up and dismounted. He led Golden Eagle through the
+gate. The greeting was an almost silent one between these two. Doubtless
+their thoughts carried them beyond mere greetings. They stood for a
+second.
+
+"Shall we ride?" said Jacky, inclining her head in the direction of the
+shed.
+
+"No, we will walk. How long have they been there?"
+
+"A quarter of an hour, I guess."
+
+"Come along, then."
+
+They walked down the pasture leading their two horses.
+
+"I see no light," said Bill, looking straight ahead of him.
+
+"It is covered--the window, I mean. What are you going to do, Bill?"
+
+The man laughed.
+
+"Lots--but I shall be guided by circumstances. You must remain outside,
+Jacky; you can see to the horses."
+
+"P'r'aps."
+
+The man turned sharply.
+
+"P'r'aps?"
+
+"Yes, one never knows. I guess it's no use fixing things when--guided by
+circumstances."
+
+They relapsed into silence and walked steadily on. Half the distance was
+covered when Jacky halted.
+
+"Will Golden Eagle stand 'knee-haltering,' Bill?"
+
+"Yes, why?"
+
+"We'll 'knee-halter' 'em."
+
+Bill stood irresolute.
+
+"It'll be better, I guess," the girl pursued. "We'll be freer."
+
+"All right," replied Bill. "But," after a pause, "I'd rather you didn't
+come further, little woman--there may be shooting--"
+
+"That's so. I like shootin'. What's that?"
+
+The girl had secured her horse, Bill was in the act of securing his.
+Jacky raised her hand in an attitude of attention and turned her face to
+windward. Bill stood erect and listened.
+
+"Ah!--it's the boys. Baptiste said they would come."
+
+There was a faint rustling of grass near by. Jacky's keen ears had
+detected the stealing sound at once. To others it might have passed for
+the effect of the night breeze.
+
+They listened for a few seconds longer, then Bill turned to the girl.
+
+"Come--the horses are safe. The boys will not show themselves. I fancy
+they are here to watch only--me."
+
+They continued on towards the shed. They were both wrapt in silent
+thought. Neither was prepared for what was to come. They were still
+nearly a quarter of a mile from the building. Its outline was dimly
+discernible in the darkness. And, too, now the light from the oil lamp
+could be seen dimly shining through the red bandanna which was stretched
+over the window.
+
+Now the sound of "Poker" John's voice raised in anger reached them. They
+stood still with one accord. It was astonishing how the voice traveled
+all that distance. He must be shouting. A sudden fear gripped their
+hearts. Bill was the first to move. With a whispered "Wait here," he ran
+forward. For an instant Jacky waited, then, on a sudden impulse, she
+followed her lover.
+
+The girl had just started. Suddenly the sharp report of firearms split
+the air. She came up with Bill, who had paused at the sound.
+
+"Hustle, Bill. It's murder," the girl panted.
+
+"Yes," and he ran forward with set face and gleaming eyes.
+
+Murder--and who was the victim? Bill wondered, and his heart misgave
+him. There was no longer any sound of voices. The rancher had been
+silenced. He thought of the girl behind him. Then his whole mind
+suddenly centered itself upon Lablache. If he had killed the rancher no
+mercy should be shown to him.
+
+Bill was rapidly nearing the building, and it was wrapped in an ominous
+silence.
+
+For a second he again came to a stand. He wanted to make sure. He could
+hear Jacky's speeding footfalls from behind. And he could hear the
+stealthy movements of those others. These were the only sounds that
+reached him. He-went on again. He came to the building. The window was
+directly in front of him. He tried to look into the room but the
+handkerchief effectually hid the interior. Suddenly the light went out.
+He knew what this meant. Turning away from the window he crept towards
+the door. Jacky had come up. He motioned her into the shadow. Then he
+waited.
+
+The door opened and a great figure came out. It was Lablache. Even in
+the darkness Bill recognized him. His heavy, asthmatical breathing must
+have betrayed the money-lender if there had been no other means of
+identification.
+
+Lablache stepped out on to the prairie utterly unconscious of the
+figures crouching in the darkness. He stepped heavily forward. Four
+steps--that was all. A silent spring--an iron grip round the
+money-lender's throat, from behind. A short, sharp struggle--a great
+gasping for breath. Then Lablache reeled backwards and fell to the
+ground with Bill hanging to his throat like some tiger. In the fall the
+money-lender's pistol went off. There was a sharp report, and the bullet
+tore up the ground. But no harm was done. Bill held on. Then came the
+swish of a skirt. Jacky was at her lover's side. She dragged the
+money-lender's pistol from his pocket. Then Bill let go his hold and
+stood panting over the prostrate man. The whole thing was done in
+silence. No word was spoken.
+
+Lablache sucked in a deep whistling breath. His eyes rolled and he
+struggled into a sitting posture. He was gazing into the muzzle of
+Bill's pistol.
+
+"Get up!" The stern voice was unlike Bill's, but there was nothing of
+the twang of Retief about it.
+
+The money-lender stared, but did not move--neither did he speak. Jacky
+had darted into the hut. She had gone to light the lamp and learn the
+truth.
+
+"Get up!" The chilling command forced the money-lender to rise. He saw
+before him the tall, thin figure of his assailant.
+
+"Retief!" he gasped, and then stood speechless.
+
+Now the re-lighted lamp glowed through the doorway. Bill pointed towards
+the door.
+
+"Go inside!" The relentless pistol was at Lablache's head.
+
+"No--no! Not inside." The words whistled on a gasping breath.
+
+"Go inside!"
+
+Cowed and fearful, Lablache obeyed the mandate.
+
+Bill followed the money-lender into the miserable room. His keen eyes
+took in the scene in one swift glance. He saw Jacky kneeling beside the
+prostrate form of her uncle. She was not weeping. Her beautiful face was
+stonily calm. She was just looking down at that still form, that drawn
+gray face, the staring eyes and dropped jaw. Bill saw and understood.
+Lablache might expect no mercy.
+
+The murderer himself was now looking in the direction of--but not
+at--the body of his victim. He was gazing with eyes which expressed
+horrified amazement at the sight of the crouching figure of Jacky
+Allandale. He was trying to fathom the meaning of her association with
+Retief.
+
+Bill closed the door. Now he came forward towards the table, always
+keeping Lablache in front of him.
+
+"Is he dead?" Bill's voice was solemn.
+
+Jacky looked up. There was a look as of stone in her somber eyes.
+
+"He is dead--dead."
+
+"Ah! For the moment we will leave the dead. Come, let us deal with the
+living. It is time for a final reckoning."
+
+There was a deadly chill in the tone of Bill's voice--a chill which was
+infinitely more dreadful to Lablache's ears than could any passionate
+outburst have been.
+
+The door opened gently. No one noticed it, so absorbed were they in the
+ghastly matter before them. Wider the door swung and several dusky faces
+appeared in the opening.
+
+The money-lender stood motionless. His gaze ignored the dead. He watched
+the living. He wondered what "Lord" Bill's preamble portended. He shook
+himself like one rousing from some dreadful nightmare. He summoned his
+courage and tried to face the consequences of his act with an outward
+calm. Struggle as he might a deadly fear was ever present.
+
+It was not the actual fear of death--it was the moral dread of something
+intangible. He feared at that moment not that which was to come. It was
+the presence of the dusky-visaged raider and--the girl. He feared mostly
+the icy look on Jacky's face. However, his mind was quite clear. He was
+watching for a loophole of escape. And he lost no detail of the scene
+before him.
+
+A matter which puzzled him greatly was the familiar voice of the raider.
+Retief, as he knew him, spoke with a pronounced accent, but now he only
+heard the ordinary tones of an Englishman.
+
+Bill had purposely abandoned his exaggerated Western drawl. Now he
+removed the scarf from his neck and proceeded to wipe the yellow grease
+from his face and neck. Lablache, with dismay in his heart, saw the
+white skin which had been concealed beneath the paint. The truth
+flashed upon him instantly. And before Bill had had time to remove his
+wig his name had passed the money-lender's lips.
+
+"Bunning-Ford?" he gasped. And in that expression was a world of moral
+fear.
+
+"Yes, Bunning-Ford, come to settle his last reckoning with you."
+
+Bill eyed the murderer steadily and Lablache felt his last grip on his
+courage relax. A terrible fear crept upon him as his courage ebbed.
+Slowly Bill turned his eyes in the direction of the still kneeling
+Jacky. The girl's eyes met his, and, in response to some mute
+understanding which passed between them, she rose to her feet.
+
+Bill did not speak. He merely looked at his pistol. Jacky spoke as if
+answering some remark of his.
+
+"Yes, this is my affair."
+
+Then she turned upon the money-lender. There was no wrath in her face,
+no anger in her tones; only that horrid, stony purpose which Lablache
+dreaded. He wished she would hurl invective at him. He felt that it
+would have been better so.
+
+"The death which you have dealt to that poor old man is too good for
+you--murderer," she said, her deep, somber eyes seeming to pass through
+and through the mountain of flesh she was addressing. "I take small
+comfort in the thought that he had no time to suffer bodily pain. You
+will suffer--later." Bill gazed at her wonderingly. "Liar!--cheat!--you
+pollute the earth. You thought to cozen that poor, harmless old man out
+of his property--out of me. You thought to ruin him as you have ruined
+others. Your efforts will avail you nothing. From the moment Bill
+discovered the use of your memorandum pad"--Lablache started--"your fate
+was sealed. We swore to confiscate your property. For every dollar you
+took from us you should pay ten. But now the matter is different. There
+is a justice on the prairie--a rough, honest, uncorruptible justice. And
+that justice demands your life. You shall scourge Foss River no longer.
+You have murdered. You shall die!--"
+
+Jacky was about to go further with her inexorable denunciation when the
+door of the shed was flung wide, and eight Breeds, headed by Gautier and
+Baptiste, came in. They came in almost noiselessly, their moccasined
+feet giving out scarcely any sound upon the floor of the room.
+
+"Lord" Bill turned, startled at the sudden apparition. Jacky hesitated.
+Here was a contingency which none had reckoned upon. One glance at those
+dark, cruel faces warned all three that these prairie outcasts had been
+silent witnesses of everything that had taken place. It was a supreme
+moment, and the deadly pallor which had assumed a leadenish hue on
+Lablache's face told of one who appreciated the horror of that silent
+coming.
+
+Baptiste stepped over to where Jacky stood. He looked at her, and then
+his gaze passed to the dead man upon the floor. His beady, black eyes
+turned fiercely upon the cowering money-lender.
+
+"Ow!" he grunted. And his tone was the fierce expression of an Indian
+roused to homicidal purpose.
+
+Then he turned back to Jacky, and the look on his face changed to one of
+sympathy and even love.
+
+"Not you, missie--and the white man--no. The prairie is the land of the
+Breed and his forefathers--the Red Man. Guess the law of the prairie'll
+come best from such as he. You are one of us," he went on, surveying the
+girl's beautiful face in open admiration. "You've allus been mostly one
+of us--but I take it y'are too white. No, guess you ain't goin' ter muck
+yer pretty hands wi' the filthy blood of yonder," pointing to Lablache.
+"These things is fur the likes o' us. Jest leave this skunk to us. Death
+is the sentence, and death he's goin' ter git--an' it'll be somethin'
+ter remember by all who behold. An' the story shall go down to our
+children. This poor dead thing was our best frien'--an' he's
+dead--murdered. So, this is a matter for the Breed."
+
+Then the half-breed turned away. Seeing the chalk upon the floor he
+stooped and picked it up.
+
+"Let's have the formalities. It is but just--"
+
+Bill suddenly interrupted. He was angry at the interference of Baptiste.
+
+"Hold on!"
+
+Baptiste swung round. The white man got no further. The Breed broke in
+upon him with animal ferocity.
+
+"Who says hold on? Peace, white man, peace! This is for us. Dare to stop
+us, an'--"
+
+Jacky sprang between her lover and the ferocious half-breed.
+
+"Bill, leave well alone," she said. And she held up a warning finger.
+
+She knew these men, of a race to which she, in part, belonged. As well
+baulk a tiger of its prey. She knew that if Bill interfered his life
+would pay the forfeit. The sanguinary lust of these human devils once
+aroused, they cared little how it be satisfied.
+
+Bill turned away with a shrug, and he was startled to see that he had
+been noiselessly surrounded by the rest of the half-breeds. Had Jacky's
+command needed support, it would have found it in this ominous movement.
+
+Fate had decreed that the final act in the Foss River drama should come
+from another source than the avenging hands of those who had sealed
+their compact in Bad Man's Hollow.
+
+Baptiste turned away from "Lord" Bill, and, at a sign from him, Lablache
+was brought round to the other side of the table--to where the dead
+rancher was lying. Baptiste handed him the chalk and then pointed to the
+wall, on which had been written the score of old John's last gamble.
+
+"Write!" he said, turning back to his prisoner.
+
+Lablache gazed fearfully around. He essayed to speak, but his tongue
+clove to the roof of his mouth.
+
+"Write--while I tell you." The Breed still pointed to the wall.
+
+Lablache held out the chalk.
+
+"I kill John Allandale," dictated Baptiste.
+
+Lablache wrote.
+
+"Now, sign. So."
+
+Lablache signed. Jacky and Bill stood looking on silent and wondering.
+
+"Now," said Baptiste, with all the solemnity of a court official, "the
+execution shall take place. Lead him out!"
+
+At this instant Jacky laid her hand upon the half-breed's arm.
+
+"What--what is it?" she asked. And from her expression something of the
+stony calmness had gone, leaving in its place a look of wondering not
+untouched with horror.
+
+"The Devil's Keg!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG
+
+
+Down the sloping shore to the level of the great keg, the party of
+Breeds--and in their midst the doomed money-lender--made their way.
+Jacky and "Lord" Bill, on their horses, brought up the rear.
+
+The silent _cortège_ moved slowly on, out on to the oozing path across
+the mire. Lablache was now beyond human aid.
+
+The right and wrong of their determination troubled the Breeds not one
+whit. But it was different with the two white people. What thoughts Bill
+had upon the matter he kept to himself. He certainly felt that he ought
+to interfere, but he knew how worse than useless his interference would
+be. Besides, the man should die. The law of Judge Lynch was the only law
+for such as he. Let that law take its course. Bill would have preferred
+the stout tree and a raw-hide lariat. But--and he shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+Jacky felt more deeply upon the subject. She saw the horror in all its
+truest lights, and yet she had flouted her lover's suggestion that she
+should not witness the end. Bad and all as Lablache was--cruel as was
+his nature, murderer though he be, surely no crime, however heinous,
+could deserve the fate to which he was going. She had
+remonstrated--urged Baptiste to forego his wanton cruelty, to deal out
+justice tempered with a mercy which should hurl the money-lender to
+oblivion without suffering--with scarce time to realize the happening.
+Her efforts were unavailing. As well try to turn an ape from its
+mischief--a man-eater from its mania for human blood. The inherent love
+of cruelty had been too long fostered in these Breeds of Foss River.
+Lablache had too long swayed their destinies with his ruthless hand of
+extortion. All the pent-up hatred, stored in the back cells of memory,
+was now let loose. For all these years in Foss River they had been
+forced to look to Lablache as the ruler of their destinies. Was he not
+the great--the wealthy man of the place? When he held up his finger they
+must work--and his wage was the wage of a dog. When money was scarce
+among them, would he not drive them starving from his great store? When
+their children and women were sick, would he not refuse them
+drugs--food--nourishment of any sort, unless the money was down? They
+had not even the privilege of men who owned land. There was no credit
+for the Breeds--outcasts. Baptiste and his fellows remembered all these
+things. Their time had come. They would pay Lablache--and their score of
+interest should be heavy.
+
+On their way from the shed to the muskeg Lablache had seen the
+reflection of the fire at his store in the sky. Gautier had taken
+devilish satisfaction in telling the wretched man of what had been
+done--mouthing the details in the manner of one who finds joy in
+cruelty. He remembered past injuries, and reveled in the money-lender's
+agony.
+
+After a toilsome journey the Breeds halted at the point where the path
+divided into three. Jacky and Bill sat on their horses and watched the
+scene. Then, slowly, something of Baptiste's intention was borne in upon
+them.
+
+Jacky reached out and touched her lover's arm.
+
+"Bill, what are they going to do?"
+
+She asked the question. But the answer was already with her. Her
+companion remained silent. She did not repeat her question.
+
+Then she heard Baptiste's raucous tones as he issued his commands.
+
+"Loose his hands!"
+
+Jacky watched Lablache's face in the dim starlight. It was ghastly. The
+whole figure of the man seemed to have shrunk. The wretched man stood
+free, and yet more surely a prisoner than any criminal in a condemned
+cell.
+
+The uncertain light of the stars showed only the dark expanse of the
+mire upon all sides. In the distance, ahead, the mountains were vaguely
+outlined against the sky; behind and around, nothing but that awful
+death-trap. Jacky had lived all her life beside the muskeg, but never,
+until that moment, had she realized the awful terror of its presence.
+
+Now Baptiste again commanded.
+
+"Prepare for death."
+
+It seemed to the listening girl that a devilish tone of exultation rang
+in his words. She roused herself from her fascinated attention. She was
+about to urge her horse forward. But a thin, powerful hand reached out
+and gripped her by the arm. It was "Lord" Bill. His hoarse whisper sung
+in her ears.
+
+"Your own words--Leave well alone."
+
+And she allowed her horse to stand.
+
+Now she leaned forward in her saddle and rested her elbows upon the horn
+in front of her. Again she heard Baptiste speak. He seemed to be in sole
+command.
+
+"We'll give yer a chance fur yer life--"
+
+Again the fiendish laugh underlaid the words.
+
+"It's a chance of a dog--a yellow dog," he pursued. Jacky shuddered.
+"But such a chance is too good fur yer likes. Look--look, those hills.
+See the three tall peaks--yes, those three, taller than the rest. One
+straight in front; one to the right, an' one away to the left. Guess
+this path divides right hyar--in three, an' each path heads for one of
+those peaks. Say, jest one trail crosses the keg--one. Savee? The others
+end sudden, and then--the keg."
+
+The full horror of the man's meaning now became plain to the girl. She
+heaved a great gasp, and turned to Bill. Her lover signed a warning. She
+turned again to the scene before her.
+
+"Now, see hyar, you scum," Baptiste went on. "This is yer chance. Choose
+yer path and foller it. Guess yer can't see it no more than yer ken see
+this one we're on, but you've got the lay of it. Guess you'll travel the
+path yer choose to--the end. If yer don't move--an' move mighty
+slippy--you'll be dumped headlong into the muck. Ef yer git on to the
+right path an' cross the keg safe, yer ken sling off wi' a whole skin.
+Guess you'll fin' it a ticklish job--mebbe you'll git through. But I've
+a notion yer won't. Now, take yer dog's chance, an' remember, its death
+if yer don't, anyway."
+
+The man ceased speaking. Jacky saw Lablache shake his great head. Then
+something made him look at the mountains beyond. There were the three
+dimly-outlined peaks. They were clear enough to guide him. Jacky,
+watching, saw the expression of his face change. It was as though a
+flicker of hope had risen within him. Then she saw him turn and eye
+Baptiste. He seemed to read in that cruel, dark face a vengeful purpose.
+He seemed to scent a trick. Presently he turned again to the hills.
+
+How plainly the watching girl read the varying emotions which beset him.
+He was trying to face this chance calmly, but the dark expanse of the
+surrounding mire wrung his heart with terror. He could not choose, and
+yet he knew he must do so or--
+
+Baptiste spoke again.
+
+"Choose!"
+
+Lablache again bent his eyes upon the hills. But his lashless lids would
+flicker, and his vision became impaired. He turned to the Breed with an
+imploring gesture. Baptiste made no movement. His relentless expression
+remained unchanged. The wretched man turned away to the rest of the
+Breeds.
+
+A pistol was leveled at his head and he turned back to Baptiste. The
+only comfort he obtained was a monosyllabic command.
+
+"Choose!"
+
+"God, man, I can't." Lablache gasped out the words which seemed
+literally to be wrung from him.
+
+"Choose!" The inexorable tone sent a shudder over the distraught man.
+Even in the starlight the expression of the villain's face was hideous
+to behold.
+
+Baptiste's voice again rang out on the still night air.
+
+"Move him!"
+
+A pistol was pushed behind his ear.
+
+"Do y' hear?"
+
+"Mercy--mercy!" cried the distraught man. But he made no move.
+
+There was an instant's pause. Then the loud report of the threatening
+pistol rang out. It had been fired through the lobe of his ear.
+
+"Oh, God!"
+
+The exclamation was forced from Jacky. The torture--the horror nearly
+drove her wild. She lifted her reins as though to ride to the villain's
+aid. Then something--some cruel recollection--stayed her. She remembered
+her uncle and her heart hardened.
+
+The merciless torture of the Breed was allowed to pass.
+
+To the wretched victim it seemed that his ear-drum must be split for the
+shot had left him almost stone deaf. The blood trickled from the wound.
+He almost leapt forward. Then he stood all of a tremble as he felt the
+ground shake beneath him. A cold sweat poured down his great face.
+
+"Choose!" Baptiste followed the terror-stricken man up.
+
+"No--no! Don't shoot! Yes, I'll go--only--don't shoot."
+
+The abject cowardice the great man now displayed was almost pitiable.
+Bill's lip curled in disdain. He had expected that this man would have
+shown a bold front.
+
+He had always believed Lablache to be, at least, a man of courage. But
+he did not allow for the circumstances--the surroundings. Lablache on
+the safe ground of the prairie would have faced disaster very
+differently. The thought of that sucking mire was too terrible. The oily
+maw of that death-trap was a thing to strike horror into the bravest
+heart.
+
+"Which path?" Baptiste spoke, waving his hand in the direction of the
+mountains.
+
+Lablache moved cautiously forward, testing the ground with his foot as
+he went. Then he paused again and eyed the mountains.
+
+"The right path," he said at last, in a guttural whisper.
+
+"Then start." The words rang out cuttingly upon the night air.
+
+Lablache fixed his eyes upon the distant peak of the mountain which was
+to be his guide. He advanced slowly. The Breeds followed, Jacky and Bill
+bringing up the rear. The ground seemed firm and the money-lender moved
+heavily forward. His breath came in gasps. He was panting, not with
+exertion, but with terror. He could not test the ground until his weight
+was upon it. An outstretched foot pressed on the grassy path told him
+nothing. He knew that the crust would hold until the weight of his body
+was upon it. With every successful step his terror increased. What would
+the next bring forth?
+
+His agony of mind was awful.
+
+He covered about ten yards in this way. The sweat poured from him. His
+clothes stuck to him. He paused for a second and took fresh bearings. He
+turned his head and looked into the muzzle of Baptiste's revolver. He
+shuddered and turned again to the mountains. He pressed forward. Still
+the ground was firm. But this gave him no hope. Suddenly a frightful
+horror swept over him. It was something fresh; he had not thought of it
+before. The fact was strange, but it was so. The path--had he taken the
+wrong one? He had made his selection at haphazard and he knew that there
+was no turning back. Baptiste had said so and he had seen his resolve
+written in his face. A conviction stole over him that he was on the
+wrong path. He knew he was. He must be. Of course it was only natural.
+The center path must be the main one. He stood still. He could have
+cried out in his mental agony. Again he turned--and saw the pistol.
+
+He put his foot out. The ground trembled at his touch. He drew back
+with a gurgling cry. He turned and tried another spot. It was firm until
+his weight rested upon it. Then it shook. He sought to return to the
+spot he had left. But now he could not be sure. His mind was uncertain.
+Suddenly he gave a jump. He felt the ground solid beneath him as he
+alighted. His face was streaming. He passed his hand across it in a
+dazed way. His terror increased a hundredfold. Now he endeavored to take
+his bearings afresh. He looked out at the three mountains. The right
+one--yes, that was it. The right one. He saw the peak, and made another
+step forward. The path held. Another step and his foot went through. He
+drew back with a cry. He tripped and fell heavily. The ground shook
+under him and he lay still, moaning.
+
+Baptiste's voice roused him and urged him on.
+
+"Git on, you skunk," he said. "Go to yer death."
+
+Lablache sat up and looked about. He felt dazed. He knew he must go on.
+Death--death which ever way he turned. God! did ever a man suffer so?
+The name of John Allandale came to his mind and he gazed wildly about,
+fancying some one had whispered it to him in answer to his thoughts. He
+stood up. He took another step forward with reckless haste. He
+remembered the pistol behind him. The ground seemed to shake under him.
+His distorted fancy was playing tricks with him. Another step. Yes, the
+ground was solid--no, it shook. The weight of his body came down on the
+spot. His foot went through. He hurled himself backwards again and
+clutched wildly at the ground. He shuddered and cried out. Again came
+Baptiste's voice.
+
+"Git on, or--"
+
+The distraught man struggled to his feet. He was becoming delirious with
+terror. He stepped forward again. The ground seemed solid and he laughed
+a horrid, wild laugh. Another step and another. He paused, breathing
+hard. Then he started to mutter,--
+
+"On--on. Yes, on again or they'll have me. The path--this is the right
+one. I'll cheat 'em yet."
+
+He strode out boldly. His foot sank in something soft He did not seem to
+notice it. Another step and his foot sank again in the reeking muck.
+Suddenly he seemed to realize. He threw himself back and obtained a
+foothold. He stood trembling. He turned and tried another direction.
+Again he sank. Again he drew back. His knees tottered and he feared to
+move. Suddenly a ring of metal pressed against his head from behind. In
+a state of panic he stepped forward on the shaking ground. It held. He
+paused, then stepped again, his foot coming down on a reedy tuft. It
+shook, but still held. He took another step. His foot sunk quickly, till
+the soft muck oozed round his ankle. He cried out in terror and turned
+to come back.
+
+Baptiste stood with leveled pistol.
+
+"On--on, you gopher. Turn again an' I wing yer. On, you bastard. You've
+chosen yer path, keep to it."
+
+"Mercy--I'm sinking."
+
+"Git on--not one step back."
+
+Lablache struggled to release his sinking limb. By a great effort he
+drew it out only to plunge it into another yielding spot. Again he
+struggled, and in his struggle his other foot slipped from its reedy
+hold. It, too, sank. With a terrible cry he plunged forward. He lurched
+heavily as he sought to drag his feet from the viscid muck. At every
+effort he sank deeper. At last he hurled himself full length upon the
+surface of the reeking mire. He cried aloud, but no one answered him.
+Under his body he felt the yielding crust cave. He clutched at the
+surface grass, but he only plucked the tufts from their roots. They gave
+him no hold.
+
+The silent figures on the path watched his death-struggle. It was
+ghastly--horrible. The expression of their faces was fiendish. They
+watched with positive joy. There was no pity in the hearts of the
+Breeds.
+
+They hearkened to the man's piteous cries with ears deafened to all
+entreaty. They simply watched--watched and reveled in the watching--for
+the terrible end which must come.
+
+Already the murderer's vast proportions were half buried in the slimy
+ooze, and, at every fresh effort to save himself, he sank deeper. But
+the death which the Breeds awaited was slow to come. Slow--slow. And so
+they would have it.
+
+Like some hungry monster the muskeg mouths its victims with oozing
+saliva, supping slowly, and seemingly revels in anticipation of the
+delicate morsel of human flesh. The watchers heard the gurgling mud,
+like to a great tongue licking, as it wrapped round the doomed man's
+body, sucking him down, down. The clutch of the keg seemed like
+something alive; something so all-powerful--like the twining feelers of
+the giant cuttle-fish. Slowly they saw the doomed man's legs disappear,
+and already the slimy muck was above his middle.
+
+The minutes dragged along--the black slime rose--it was at Lablache's
+breast. His arms were outspread, and, for the moment, they offered
+resistance to the sucking strength of the mud. But the resistance was
+only momentary. Down, down he was drawn into that insatiable maw. The
+dying man's arms canted upwards as his shoulders were dragged under.
+
+He cried--he shrieked--he raved. Down, down he went--the mud touched his
+chin. His head was thrown back in one last wild scream. The watchers saw
+the staring eyes--the wide-stretched, lashless lids.
+
+His cries died down into gurgles as the mud oozed over into his gaping
+mouth. Down he went to his dreadful death, until his nostrils filled and
+only his awful eyes remained above the muck. The watchers did not move.
+Slowly--slowly and silently now--the last of him disappeared. Once his
+head was below the surface his limpened arms followed swiftly.
+
+The Breeds reluctantly turned back from the horrid spectacle. The
+fearful torture was done. For a few moments no words were spoken. Then,
+at last, it was Baptiste who broke the silence. He looked round on the
+passion-distorted faces about him. Then his beady eyes rested on the
+horrified faces of Jacky and her lover. He eyed them, and presently his
+gaze dropped, and he turned back to his countrymen. He merely said two
+words.
+
+"Scatter, boys."
+
+The tragedy was over and his words brought down the curtain. In silence
+the half-breeds turned and slunk away. They passed back over their
+tracks. Each knew that the sooner he reached the camp again, the sooner
+would safety be assured. As the last man departed Baptiste stepped up to
+Jacky and Bill, who had not moved from their positions.
+
+"Guess there's no cause to complain o' yer friends," he said, addressing
+Jacky, and leering up into her white, set face.
+
+The girl shivered and turned away with a look of utter loathing on her
+face. She appealed to her lover.
+
+"Bill--Bill, send him away. It's--it's too horrible."
+
+"Lord" Bill fixed his gray eyes on the Breed.
+
+"Scatter--we've had enough."
+
+"Eh? Guess yer per-tickler."
+
+There was a truculent tone in Baptiste's voice.
+
+Bill's revolver was out like lightning.
+
+"Scatter!"
+
+And in that word Baptiste realized his dismissal.
+
+His face looked very ugly, but he moved off under the covering muzzle of
+the white man's pistol.
+
+Bill watched him until he was out of sight. Then he turned to Jacky.
+
+"Well? Which way?"
+
+Jacky did not answer for a moment. She gazed at the mountains. She
+shivered. It might have been the chill morning air--it might have been
+emotion. Then she looked back in the direction of Foss River. Dawn was
+already streaking the horizon.
+
+She sighed like a weary child, and looked helplessly about. Her lover
+had never seen her vigorous nature so badly affected. But he realized
+the terrors she had been through.
+
+Bill looked at her.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Yonder." She pointed to the distant hills. "Foss River is no longer
+possible."
+
+"The day that sees Lablache--"
+
+"Yes--come."
+
+Bill gazed lingeringly in the direction of the settlement. Jacky
+followed his gaze. Then she touched Nigger's flank with her spur. Golden
+Eagle cocked his ears, his head was turned towards Bad Man's Hollow. He
+needed no urging. He felt that he was going home.
+
+Together they rode away across the keg.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Abbot had been up all night, as had most of Foss River. Everybody
+had been present at the fire. It was daylight when it was discovered
+that John Allandale and Jacky were missing. Lablache had been missed,
+but this had not so much interested people. They thought of Retief and
+waited for daylight.
+
+Silas brought the news of "Poker" John's absence--also his niece's.
+Immediately was a "hue and cry" taken up. Foss River bustled in search.
+
+It was noon before the rancher was found. Doctor Abbot and Silas had set
+out in search together. The fifty-acre pasture was Silas's suggestion.
+Dr. Abbot did not remember the implement shed.
+
+They found the old man's body. They found Lablache's confession. Silas
+could not read. He took no stock in the writing and thought only of the
+dead man. The doctor had read, but he said nothing. He dispatched Silas
+for help.
+
+When the foreman had gone Dr. Abbot picked up the black wig which Bill
+had used. He stood looking at it for a while, then he put it carefully
+into his pocket.
+
+"Ah! I think I understand something now," he said, slowly fingering the
+wig. "Um--yes. I'll burn it when I get home."
+
+Silas returned with help. John Allandale was buried quietly in the
+little piece of ground set aside for such purposes. The truth of the
+disappearance of Lablache, Jacky and "Lord" Bill was never known outside
+of the doctor's house.
+
+How much or how little Dr. Abbot knew would be hard to tell. Possibly he
+guessed a great deal. Anyway, whatever he knew was doubtless shared with
+"Aunt" Margaret. For when the doctor had a secret it did not remain his
+long. "Aunt" Margaret had a way with her. However, she was the very
+essence of discretion.
+
+Foss River settled down after its nine days' wonder. It was astonishing
+how quickly the affair was forgotten. But then, Foss River was not yet
+civilized. Its people had not yet learned to worry too much over their
+neighbors' affairs.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+by Ridgwell Cullum
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE FOSS RIVER RANCH ***
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+
+Project Gutenberg's The Story of the Foss River Ranch, by Ridgwell Cullum
+
+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: The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+
+Author: Ridgwell Cullum
+
+Release Date: December 27, 2004 [EBook #14482]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE FOSS RIVER RANCH ***
+
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+Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe and the PG Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
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+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>The Story of the Foss River Ranch</h1>
+
+<h2>A Tale of the Northwest</h2>
+
+<h3>By RIDGWELL CULLUM</h3>
+
+<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4>
+
+<h4>&quot;The Law Breakers,&quot; &quot;The Way of the Strong,&quot; &quot;The Watchers of the
+Plains.&quot; Etc.</h4>
+
+<h4>A.L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York</h4>
+
+<h4>Published August, 1903</h4>
+
+<h3>TO MY WIFE</h3>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I - THE POLO CLUB BALL</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II - THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III - A BIG GAME OF POKER</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV - AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V - THE &quot;STRAY&quot; BEYOND THE MUSKEG</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI - WAYS THAT ARE DARK</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII - ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII - TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX - LABLANCHE'S &quot;COUP&quot;</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X - &quot;AUNT&quot; MARGARET REFLECTS</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI - THE CAMPAIGN OPENS</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII - LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII - THE FIRST CHECK</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV - THE HUE AND CRY</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV - AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI - GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII - THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII - THE PUSKY</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX - LABLANCHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX - A NIGHT OF TERROR</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI - HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII - THE DAY AFTER</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII - THE PAW OF THE CAT</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV - &quot;POKER&quot; JOHN ACCEPTS</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV - UNCLE AND NIECE</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI - IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII - THE LAST GAMBLE</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII - SETTLING THE RECKONING</b></a><br />
+ <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX - THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG</b></a><br />
+ </p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I" />CHAPTER I - THE POLO CLUB BALL</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was a brilliant gathering&mdash;brilliant in every sense of the word. The
+hall was a great effort of the decorator's art; the people were
+faultlessly dressed; the faces were strong, handsome&mdash;fair or dark
+complexioned as the case might be; those present represented the wealth
+and fashion of the Western Canadian ranching world. Intellectually, too,
+there was no more fault to find here than is usual in a ballroom in the
+West End of London.</p>
+
+<p>It was the annual ball of the Polo Club, and that was a social function
+of the first water&mdash;in the eyes of the Calford world.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dear Mrs. Abbot, it is a matter which is quite out of my province,&quot;
+said John Allandale, in answer to a remark from his companion. He was
+leaning over the cushioned back of the Chesterfield upon which an old
+lady was seated, and gazing smilingly over at a group of young people
+standing at the opposite end of the room. &quot;Jacky is one of those young
+ladies whose strength of character carries her beyond the control of
+mere man. Yes, I know what you would say,&quot; as Mrs. Abbot glanced up into
+his face with a look of mildly-expressed wonder; &quot;it is true I am her
+uncle and guardian, but, nevertheless, I should no more dream of
+interfering with her&mdash;what shall we say?&mdash;love affairs, than suggest
+her incapacity to 'boss' a 'round up' worked by a crowd of Mexican
+greasers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then all I can say is that your niece is a very unfortunate girl,&quot;
+replied the old lady, acidly. &quot;How old is she?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Twenty-two.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Allandale, or &quot;Poker&quot; John as he was more familiarly called by all
+who knew him, was still looking over at the group, but an expression had
+suddenly crept into his eyes which might, in a less robust-looking man,
+have been taken for disquiet&mdash;even fear. His companion's words had
+brought home to him a partial realization of a responsibility which was
+his.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Twenty-two,&quot; she repeated, &quot;and not a relative living except a
+good-hearted but thoroughly irresponsible uncle. That child is to be
+pitied, John.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man sighed. He took no umbrage at his companion's
+brusquely-expressed estimation of himself. He was still watching the
+group at the other end of the room. His face was clouded, and a keen
+observer might have detected a curious twitching of his bronzed right
+cheek, just beneath the eye. His eyes followed the movement of a
+beautiful girl surrounded by a cluster of men, immaculately dressed,
+bronzed&mdash;and, for the most part, wholesome-looking. She was dark, almost
+Eastern in her type of features. Her hair was black with the blackness
+of the raven's wing, and coiled in an ample knot low upon her neck. Her
+features, although Eastern, had scarcely the regularity one expects in
+such a type, whilst her eyes quashed without mercy any idea of such
+extraction for her nationality. They were gray, deeply ringed at the
+pupil with black. They were keen eyes&mdash;fathomless in their suggestion of
+strength&mdash;eyes which might easily mask a world of good or evil.</p>
+
+<p>The music began, and the girl passed from amidst her group of admirers
+upon the arm of a tall, fair man, and was soon lost in the midst of the
+throng of dancers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who is that she is dancing with now?&quot; asked Mrs. Abbot, presently. &quot;I
+didn't see her go off; I was watching Mr. Lablache standing alone and
+disconsolate over there against the door. He looks as if some one had
+done him some terrible injury. See how he is glaring at the dancers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky is dancing with 'Lord' Bill. Yes, you are right, Lablache does
+not look very amiable. I think this would be a good opportunity to
+suggest a little gamble in the smoking-room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing of the sort,&quot; snapped Mrs. Abbot, with the assurance of an old
+friend. &quot;I haven't half finished talking to you yet. It is a most
+extraordinary thing that all you people of the prairie love to call each
+other by nicknames. Why should the Hon. William Bunning-Ford be dubbed
+'Lord' Bill, and why should that sweet niece of yours, who is the
+possessor of such a charming name as Joaquina, be hailed by every man
+within one hundred miles of Calford as 'Jacky'? I think it is both
+absurd and&mdash;vulgar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Possibly you are right, my dear lady. But you can never alter the ways
+of the prairie. You might just as well try to stem the stream of our
+Foss River in early spring as try to make the prairie man call people by
+their legitimate names. For instance, do you ever hear me spoken of by
+any other name than 'Poker' John?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot looked up sharply. A malicious twinkle was in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is reason in your sobriquet, John. A man who spends his substance
+and time in playing that fascinating but degrading game called 'Draw
+Poker' deserves no better title.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Allandale made a &quot;clucking&quot; sound with his tongue. It was his way
+of expressing irritation. Then he stood erect, and glanced round the
+room in search of some one. He was a tall, well-built man and carried
+his fifty odd years fairly well, in spite of his gray hair and the bald
+patch at the crown of his head. Thirty years of a rancher's life had in
+no way lessened the easy carriage and distinguished bearing acquired
+during his upbringing. John Allandale's face and figure were redolent of
+the free life of the prairie. And although, possibly, his fifty-five
+years might have lain more easily upon him he was a man of commanding
+appearance and one not to be passed unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot was the wife of the doctor of the Foss River Settlement and
+had known John Allandale from the first day he had taken up his abode on
+the land which afterwards became known as the Foss River Ranch until
+now, when he was acknowledged to be a power in the stock-raising world.
+She was a woman of sound, practical, common sense; he was a man of
+action rather than a thinker; she was a woman whose moral guide was an
+invincible sense of duty; he was a man whose sense of responsibility and
+duty was entirely governed by an unreliable inclination. Moreover, he
+was obstinate without being possessed of great strength of will. They
+were characters utterly opposed to one another, and yet they were the
+greatest of friends.</p>
+
+<p>The music had ceased again and once more the walls were lined with
+heated dancers, breathing hard and fanning themselves. Suddenly John
+Allandale saw a face he was looking for. Murmuring an excuse to Mrs.
+Abbot, he strode across the room, just as his niece, leaning upon the
+arm of the Hon. Bunning-Ford, approached where he had been standing.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot glanced admiringly up into Jacky's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A successful evening, Joaquina?&quot; she interrogated kindly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lovely, Aunt Margaret, thanks.&quot; She always called the doctor's wife
+&quot;Aunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe you have danced every dance. You must be tired, child. Come
+and sit down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was intensely fond of this old lady and looked upon her almost as
+a mother. Her affection was reciprocated. The girl seated herself and
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill stood over her, fan in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, auntie,&quot; exclaimed Jacky, &quot;I've made up my mind to dance every
+dance on the program. And I guess I sha'n't Waste time on feeding.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl's beautiful face was aglow with excitement. Mrs. Abbot's face
+indicated horrified amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dear child, don't&mdash;don't talk like that. It is really dreadful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm so sorry, auntie, I forgot,&quot; the girl replied, with an irresistible
+smile. &quot;I never can get away from the prairie. Do you know, this evening
+old Lablache made me mad, and my hand went round to my hip to get a grip
+on my six-shooter, and I was quite disappointed to feel nothing but
+smooth silk to my touch. I'm not fit for town life, I guess. I'm a
+prairie girl; you can bet your life on it, and nothing will civilize me.
+Billy, do stop wagging that fan.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill smiled a slow, twinkling smile and desisted. He was a tall,
+slight man, with a faint stoop at the shoulders. He looked worthy of his
+title.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is no use trying to treat Jacky to a becoming appreciation of social
+requirements,&quot; he said, addressing himself with a sort of weary
+deliberation to Mrs. Abbot. &quot;I suggested an ice just now. She said she
+got plenty on the ranch at this time of year,&quot; and he shrugged his
+shoulders and laughed pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, of course. What does one want ices for?&quot; asked the girl,
+disdainfully. &quot;I came here to dance. But, auntie, dear, where has uncle
+gone? He dashed off as if he were afraid of us when we came up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think he has set his mind on a game of poker, dear, and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that means he has gone in search of that detestable man, Lablache,&quot;
+Jacky put in sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Her beautiful face flushed with anger as she spoke. But withal there was
+a look of anxiety in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If he must play cards I wish he would play with some one else,&quot; she
+pursued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill glanced round the room. He saw that Lablache had
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, you see, Lablache has taken a lot of money out of all of us.
+Naturally we wish to get it back,&quot; he said quietly, as if in defense of
+her uncle's doings.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know. And&mdash;do you?&quot; The girl's tone was cutting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill shrugged. Then,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As yet I have not had that pleasure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if I know anything of Lablache you never will,&quot; put in Mrs. Abbot,
+curtly. &quot;He is not given to parting easily. The qualification most
+necessary amongst gentlemen in the days of our grandfathers was keen
+gambling. You and John, had you lived in those days, might have aspired
+to thrones.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;or taken to the road. You remember, even then, it was necessary to
+be a 'gentleman' of the road.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill laughed in his lazy fashion. His keen gray eyes were half
+veiled with eyelids which, seemed too weary to lift themselves. He was a
+handsome man, but his general air of weariness belied the somewhat eagle
+cast of countenance which was his. Mrs. Abbot, watching him, thought
+that the deplorable lassitude which he always exhibited masked a very
+different nature. Jacky possibly had her own estimation of the man.
+Whatever it was, her friendship for him was not to be doubted, and, on
+his part, he never attempted to disguise his admiration of her.</p>
+
+<p>A woman is often a much keener observer of men than she is given credit
+for. A man is frequently disposed to judge another man by his mental
+talents and his peculiarities of temper&mdash;or blatant self-advertisement.
+A woman's first thought is for that vague, but comprehensive trait
+&quot;manliness. She drives straight home for the peg upon which to hang her
+judgment. That is why in feminine regard the bookworm goes to the wall
+to make room for the athlete. Possibly Jacky and Mrs. Abbot had probed
+beneath &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's superficial weariness and discovered there a
+nature worthy of their regard. They were both, in their several ways,
+fond of this scion of a noble house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is all very well for you good people to sit there and lecture&mdash;or,
+at least, say 'things,'&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill went on. &quot;A man must have
+excitement. Life becomes a burden to the man who lives the humdrum
+existence of ranch life. For the first few years it is all very well. He
+can find a certain excitement in learning the business. The 'round-ups'
+and branding and re-branding of cattle, these things are
+fascinating&mdash;for a time. Breaking the wild and woolly broncho is
+thrilling and he needs no other tonic; but when one has gone through all
+this and he finds that no Broncho&mdash;or, for that matter, any other
+horse&mdash;ever foaled cannot be ridden, it loses its charm and becomes
+boring. On the prairie there are only two things left for him to
+do&mdash;drink or gamble. The first is impossible. It is low, degrading.
+Besides it only appeals to certain senses, and does not give one that
+'hair-curling' thrill which makes life tolerable. Consequently the wily
+pasteboard is brought forth&mdash;and we live again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stuff,&quot; remarked Mrs. Abbot, uncompromisingly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, you make me laugh,&quot; exclaimed Jacky, smiling up into his face.
+&quot;Your arguments are so characteristic of you. I believe it is nothing
+but sheer indolence that makes you sit down night after night and hand
+over your dollars to that&mdash;that Lablache. How much have you lost to him
+this week?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill glanced quizzically down at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have purchased seven evenings' excitement at a fairly reasonable
+price.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which means?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl leant forward and in her eyes was a look of anxiety. She meant
+to have the truth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have enjoyed myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But the price?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah&mdash;here comes your partner for the next dance,&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill went on,
+still smiling. &quot;The band has struck up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a broad-shouldered man, with a complexion speaking loudly
+of the prairie, came up to claim the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hallo, Pickles,&quot; said Bill, quietly turning upon the newcomer and
+ignoring Jacky's question. &quot;Thought you said you weren't coming in
+to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Neither was I,&quot; the man addressed as &quot;Pickles&quot; retorted, &quot;but Miss
+Jacky promised me two dances,&quot; he went on, in strong Irish brogue; &quot;that
+settled it. How d'ye do, Mrs. Abbot? Come along, Miss Jacky, we're
+losing half our dance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl took the proffered arm and was about to move off. She turned
+and spoke to &quot;Lord&quot; Bill over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How much?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged his shoulders in a deprecating fashion. The same gentle
+smile hovered round his sleepy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Three thousand dollars.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky glided off into the already dancing throng.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the Hon. Bunning-Ford and Mrs. Abbot watched the girl as
+she glided in and out amongst the dancers, then, with a sigh, the old
+lady turned to her companion. Her kindly wrinkled old face wore a sad
+expression and a half tender look was in her eyes as they rested upon
+the man's face. When she spoke, however, her tone was purely
+conversational.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you not going to dance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; abstractedly. &quot;I think I've had enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then come and sit by me and help to cheer an old woman up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill smiled as he seated himself upon the lounge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't think there is much necessity for my cheering influence, Aunt
+Margaret. Amongst your many other charming qualities cheerfulness is not
+the least. Doesn't Jacky look lovely to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To-night?&mdash;always.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, of course&mdash;but Jacky always seems to surpass herself under
+excitement. One would scarcely expect it, knowing her as we do. But she
+is as wildly delighted with dancing as any miss fresh from school.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And why not? It is little pleasure that comes into her life. An
+orphan&mdash;barely twenty-two&mdash;with the entire responsibility of her uncle's
+ranch upon her shoulders. Living in a very hornet's nest of blacklegs
+and&mdash;and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gamblers,&quot; put in the man, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; Aunt Margaret went on defiantly, &quot;gamblers. With the certain
+knowledge that the home she struggles for, through no fault of her own,
+is passing into the hands of a man she hates and despises&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And who by the way is in love with her.&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's mouth was
+curiously pursed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What pleasure can she have?&quot; exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, vehemently.
+&quot;Sometimes, much as I am attached to John, I feel as if I should like
+to&mdash;to bang him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poor old John!&quot; Bill's bantering tone nettled the old lady, but she
+said no more. Her anger against those she loved could not last long.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Poker' John loves his niece,&quot; the man went on, as his companion
+remained silent. &quot;There is nothing in the world he would not do for her,
+if it lay within his power.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then let him leave poker alone. His gambling is breaking her heart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The angry light was again in the old lady's eyes. Her companion did not
+answer for a moment. His lips had assumed that curious pursing. When he
+spoke it was with, great decision.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Impossible, my dear lady&mdash;utterly impossible. Can the Foss River help
+freezing in winter? Can Jacky help talking prairie slang? Can Lablache
+help grubbing for money? Can you help caring for all of our worthless
+selves who belong to the Foss River Settlement? Nothing can alter these
+things. John would play poker on the lid of his own coffin, while the
+undertakers were winding his shroud about him&mdash;if they'd lend him a pack
+of cards.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe you encourage him in it,&quot; said the old lady, mollified, but
+still sticking to her guns. &quot;There is little to choose between you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man shrugged his indolent shoulders. This dear old lady's loyalty to
+Jacky, and, for that matter, to all her friends, pleased while it amused
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maybe.&quot; Then abruptly, &quot;Let's talk of something else.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment an elderly man was seen edging his way through the
+dancers. He came directly over to Mrs. Abbot.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's getting late, Margaret,&quot; he said, pausing before her. &quot;I am told
+it is rather gusty outside. The weather prophets think we may have a
+blizzard on us before morning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shouldn't be at all surprised,&quot; put in the Hon. Bunning-Ford. &quot;The
+sun-dogs have been showing for the last two days. I'll see what Jacky
+says, and then hunt out old John.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, for goodness' sake don't let us get caught in a blizzard,&quot;
+exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, fearfully. &quot;If there is one thing I'm afraid of it
+is one of those terrible storms. We have thirty-five miles to go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The new-comer, Dr. Abbot, smiled at his wife's terrified look, but, as
+he turned to urge Bill to hurry, there was a slightly anxious look on
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry up, old man. I'll go and see about our sleigh.&quot; Then in an
+undertone, &quot;You can exaggerate a little to persuade them, for the storm
+<i>is</i> coming on and we must get away at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A moment or two later &quot;Lord&quot; Bill and Jacky were making their way to the
+smoking-room. On the stairs they met &quot;Poker&quot; John. He was returning to
+the ballroom.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We were just coming to look for you, uncle,&quot; exclaimed Jacky. &quot;They
+tell us it is blowing outside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just what I was coming to tell you, my dear. We must be going. Where
+are the doctor and Aunt Margaret?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Getting ready,&quot; said Bill, quietly. &quot;Have a good game?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man smiled. His bronzed face indicated extreme satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not half bad, boy&mdash;not half bad. Relieved Lablache of five hundred
+dollars in the last jackpot. Held four deuces. He opened with full on
+aces.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John seemed to have forgotten the past heavy losses, and spoke
+gleefully of the paltry five hundred he had just scooped in.</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked relieved, and even the undemonstrative &quot;Lord&quot; Bill
+allowed a scarcely audible sigh to escape him. Jacky returned at once to
+the exigencies of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, uncle, dear, let us hurry up. I guess none of us want to be
+caught in a blizzard. Say, Bill, take me to the cloak-room, right
+away.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II" />CHAPTER II - THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES</h2>
+
+
+<p>On the whole, Canada can boast of one of the most perfect health-giving
+climates in the world, despite the two extremes of heat and cold of
+which it is composed. But even so, the Canadian climate is cursed by an
+evil which every now and again breaks loose from the bonds which fetter
+it, and rages from east to west, carrying death and destruction in its
+wake. I speak of the terrible&mdash;the raging Blizzard!</p>
+
+<p>To appreciate the panic-like haste with which the Foss River Settlement
+party left the ballroom, one must have lived a winter in the west of
+Canada. The reader who sits snugly by his or her fireside, and who has
+never experienced a Canadian winter, can have no conception of one of
+those dread storms, the very name of which had drawn words of terror
+from one who had lived the greater part of her life in the eastern
+shadow of the Rockies. Hers was no timid, womanly fear for ordinary
+inclemency of weather, but a deep-rooted dread of a life-and-death
+struggle in a merciless storm, than which, in no part of the world, can
+there be found a more fearful. Whence it comes&mdash;and why, surely no one
+may say. A meteorological expert may endeavor to account for it, but his
+argument is unconvincing and gains no credence from the dweller on the
+prairies. And why? Because the storm does not come from above&mdash;neither
+does it come from a specified direction. And only in the winter does
+such a wind blow. The wind buffets from every direction at once. No snow
+falls from above and yet a blinding gray wall of snow, swept up from the
+white-clothed ground, encompasses the dazed traveller. His arm
+outstretched in daylight and he cannot see the tips of his heavy fur
+mitts. Bitter cold, a hundred times intensified by the merciless force
+of the wind, and he is lost and freezing&mdash;slowly freezing to death.</p>
+
+<p>As the sleigh dashed through the outskirts of Calford, on its way to the
+south, there was not much doubt in the minds of any of its occupants as
+to the prospects of the storm. The gusty, patchy wind, the sudden sweeps
+of hissing, cutting snow, as it slithered up in a gray dust in the
+moonlight, and lashed, with stinging force, into their faces, was a sure
+herald of the coming &quot;blizzard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford and Jacky occupied the front seat of the sleigh. The former
+was driving the spanking team of blacks of which old &quot;Poker&quot; John was
+justly proud. The sleigh was open, as in Canada all such sleighs are.
+Mrs. Abbot and the doctor sat in a seat with their backs to Jacky and
+her companion, and old John Allandale faced the wind in the back seat,
+alone. Thirty-five miles the horses had to cover before the storm
+thoroughly established itself, and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was not a slow driver.</p>
+
+<p>The figures of the travellers were hardly distinguishable so enwrapped
+were they in beaver caps, buffalo coats and robes. Jacky, as she sat
+silently beside her companion, might have been taken for an inanimate
+bundle of furs, so lost was she within the ample folds of her buffalo.
+But for the occasional turn of her head, as she measured with her eyes
+the rising of the storm, she gave no sign of life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill seemed indifferent. His eyes were fixed upon the road ahead
+and his hands, encased in fur mitts, were on the &quot;lines&quot; with a
+tenacious grip. The horses needed no urging. They were high-mettled and
+cold. The gushing quiver of their nostrils, as they drank in the crisp,
+night air, had a comforting sound for the occupants of the sleigh.
+Weather permitting, those beautiful &quot;blacks&quot; would do the distance in
+under three hours.</p>
+
+<p>The sleigh bells jangled musically in response to the high steps of the
+horses as they sped over the hard, snow-covered trail. They were
+climbing the long slope which was to take them out of the valley
+wherein was Calford situate. Presently Jack's face appeared from amidst
+the folds of the muffler which kept her storm collar fast round her neck
+and ears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's gaining on us, Billy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He understood her remark. He knew she referred to the storm. His lips
+were curiously pursed. A knack he had when stirred out of himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shan't do it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl spoke with conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess we'd better hit the trail for Norton's. Soldier Joe'll be glad to
+welcome us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill did not answer. He merely chirruped at the horses. The
+willing beasts increased their pace and the sleigh sped along with that
+intoxicating smoothness only to be felt when travelling with double
+&quot;bobs&quot; on a perfect trail.</p>
+
+<p>The gray wind of the approaching blizzard was becoming fiercer. The moon
+was already enveloped in a dense haze. The snow was driving like fine
+sand in the faces of the travellers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think we'll give it an hour, Bill. After that I guess it'll be too
+thick,&quot; pursued the girl. &quot;What d'you think, can we make Norton's in
+that time&mdash;it's a good sixteen miles?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll put 'em at it,&quot; was her companion's curt response.</p>
+
+<p>Neither spoke for a minute. Then &quot;Lord&quot; Bill bent his head suddenly
+forward. The night was getting blacker and it was with difficulty that
+he could keep his eyes from blinking under the lash of the whipping
+snow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it?&quot; asked Jacky, ever on the alert with the instinct of the
+prairie.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some one just ahead of us. The track is badly broken in places. Sit
+tight, I'm going to touch 'em up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He flicked the whip over the horses' backs, and, a moment later, the
+sleigh was flying along at a dangerous pace. The horses had broken into
+a gallop.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill seemed to liven up under the influence of speed. The wind
+was howling now, and conversation was impossible, except in short, jerky
+sentences. They were on the high level of the prairie and were getting
+the full benefit of the open sweep of country.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cold?&quot; Bill almost shouted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; came the quiet response.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Straight, down-hill trail. I'm going to let 'em have their heads.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Both of these people knew every inch of the road they were travelling.
+There was no fear in their hearts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Put 'em along, then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The horses raced along. The deadly gray wind had obscured all light. The
+lights of the sleigh alone showed the tracks. It was a wild night and
+every moment it seemed to become worse. Suddenly the man spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish we hadn't got the others with us, Jacky.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I could put 'em along faster, as it is&mdash;&quot; His sentence remained
+unfinished, the sleigh bumped and lifted on to one runner. It was within
+an ace of overturning. There was no need to finish his sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I understand, Bill. Don't take too many chances. Ease 'em
+up&mdash;some. They're not as young as we are&mdash;not the horses. The others.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill laughed. Jacky was so cool. The word fear was not in her
+vocabulary. This sort of a journey was nothing new to her. She had
+experienced it all before. Possibly, however, her total lack of fear was
+due to her knowledge of the man who, to use her own way of expressing
+things, &quot;was at the business end of the lines.&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was at once
+the finest and the most fearless teamster for miles around. Under the
+cloak of indolent indifference he concealed a spirit of fearlessness and
+even recklessness which few accredited to him.</p>
+
+<p>For some time the two remained silent. The minutes sped rapidly and half
+an hour passed. All about was pitch black now. The wind was tearing and
+shrieking from every direction at once. The sleigh seemed to be the
+center of its attack. The blinding clouds of snow, as they swept up from
+the ground, were becoming denser and denser and offered a fierce
+resistance to the racing horses. Another few minutes and the two people
+on the front seat knew that progress would be impossible. As it was,
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill was driving more by instinct than by what he could see. The
+trail was obscured, as were all landmarks. He could no longer see the
+horses' heads.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We've passed the school-house,&quot; said Jacky, at last.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A strange knowledge or instinct is that of the prairie man or woman.
+Neither had seen the school-house or anything to indicate it. And yet
+they knew they had passed it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Half a mile to Trout Creek. Two miles to Norton's. Can you do it,
+Bill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Quietly as the words were spoken, there was a world of meaning in the
+question. To lose their way now would be worse, infinitely, than to lose
+oneself in one of the sandy deserts of Africa. Death was in that biting
+wind and in the blinding snow. Once lost, and, in two or three hours,
+all would be over.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; came the monosyllabic reply. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's lips were pursed
+tightly. Every now and then he dashed the snow and breath icicles from
+his eyelashes. The horses were almost hidden from his view.</p>
+
+<p>They were descending a steep gradient and they now knew that they were
+upon Trout Creek. At the creek Bill pulled up. It was the first stop
+since leaving Calford. Jacky and he jumped down. Each knew what the
+other was about to do without speaking. Jacky, reins in hand, went round
+the horses; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was searching for the trail which turned off
+from the main road up the creek to Norton's. Presently he came back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Animals all right?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fit as fiddles,&quot; the girl replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right&mdash;jump up!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no assisting this girl to her seat. No &quot;by your leave&quot; or
+European politeness. Simply the word of one man who knows his business
+to another. Both were on their &quot;native heath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill checked the horses' impetuosity and walked them slowly until he
+came to the turning. Once on the right road, however, he let them have
+their heads.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's all right, Jacky,&quot; as the horses bounded forward.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later the sleigh drew up at Norton's, but so dark was it
+and so dense the snow fog, that only those two keen watchers on the
+front seat were able to discern the outline of the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John and the doctor assisted the old lady to alight whilst Jacky
+and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill unhitched the horses. In spite of the cold the sweat was
+pouring from the animals' sides. In answer to a violent summons on the
+storm door a light appeared in the window and &quot;soldier&quot; Joe Norton
+opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>For an instant he stood in the doorway peering doubtfully out into the
+storm. A goodly picture he made as he stood lantern in hand, his rugged
+old face gazing inquiringly at his visitors.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry up, Joe, let us in,&quot; exclaimed Allandale. &quot;We are nearly frozen
+to death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, bless my soul!&mdash;bless my soul! Come in! Come in!&quot; the old man
+exclaimed hastily as he recognized John Allandale's voice. &quot;You out, and
+on a night like this. Bless my soul! Come in! Down, Husky, down!&quot; to a
+bob-tail sheep-dog which bounded forward and barked savagely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold on, Joe,&quot; said &quot;Poker&quot; John. &quot;Let the ladies go in, we must see to
+the horses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's all right, uncle,&quot; said Jacky, &quot;we've unhitched 'em. Bill's taken
+'em right away to the stables.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The whole party passed into Joe Norton's sitting-room, where the old
+farmer at once set about kindling, with the aid of some coal-oil, a fire
+in the great box-stove. While his host was busy John took the lantern
+and went to &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's assistance in the stables.</p>
+
+<p>The stove lighted, Joe Norton turned to his guests.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bless me, and to think of you, Mrs. Abbot, and Miss Jacky, too. I must
+fetch the o'd 'ooman. Hi, Molly, Molly, bestir yourself, old girl. Come
+on down, an' help the ladies. They've come for shelter out o' the
+blizzard&mdash;good luck to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, no, don't disturb her, Joe,&quot; exclaimed Mrs. Abbot; &quot;it's really too
+bad, at this unearthly hour. Besides, we shall be quite comfortable here
+by the stove.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No doubt&mdash;no doubt,&quot; said the old man, cheerfully, &quot;but that's not my
+way&mdash;not my way. Any of you froze,&quot; he went on ungrammatically, &quot;'cause
+if so, out you go and thaw it out in the snow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess there's no one frozen,&quot; said Jacky, smiling into the old man's
+face. &quot;We're too old birds for that. Ah, here's Mrs. Norton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Another warm greeting and the two ladies were hustled off to the only
+spare bedroom the Nortons boasted. By this time &quot;Lord&quot; Bill and &quot;Poker&quot;
+John had returned from the stables. While the ladies were removing their
+furs, which were sodden with the melting snow, the farmer's wife was
+preparing a rough but ample meal of warm provender in the kitchen. Such
+is hospitality in the Far North-West.</p>
+
+<p>When the supper was prepared the travellers sat down to the substantial
+fare. None were hungry&mdash;be it remembered that it was three o'clock in
+the morning&mdash;but each felt that some pretense in that direction must be
+made, or the kindly couple would think their welcome was insufficient.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An' what made you venture on the trail on such a night?&quot; asked old
+Norton, as he poured out a joram of hot whiskey for each of the men. &quot;A
+moral cert, you wouldn't strike Foss River in such a storm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We thought it would have held off longer,&quot; said Dr. Abbot. &quot;It was no
+use getting cooped up in town for two or three days. You know what these
+blizzards are. You may have to do with us yourself during the next
+forty-eight hours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's too sharp to last, Doc,&quot; put in Jacky, as she helped herself to
+some soup. Her face was glowing after her exposure to the elements. She
+looked very beautiful and not one whit worse for the drive.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sharp enough&mdash;sharp enough,&quot; murmured old Norton, as if for something
+to say.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sharp enough to bring some one else to your hospitable abode, Joe,&quot;
+interrupted &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, quietly; &quot;I hear sleigh bells. The wind's
+howling, but their tone is familiar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They were all listening now. &quot;Poker&quot; John was the first to speak.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's&mdash;&quot; and he paused.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could complete his sentence Jacky filled up the missing words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;for a dollar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence in that rough homely little kitchen. The
+expression of the faces of those around the board indexed a general
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, if it were he, would not receive the cordial welcome which had
+been meted out to the others. Norton broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dang it! That's what I ses, dang it! You'll pardon me, ladies, but my
+feelings get the better of me at times. I don't like him. Lablache&mdash;I
+hates him,&quot; and he strode out of the room, his old face aflame with
+annoyance, to discharge the hospitable duties of the prairie.</p>
+
+<p>As the door closed behind him Dr. Abbot laughed constrainedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache doesn't seem popular&mdash;here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No one answered his remark. Then &quot;Poker&quot; John looked over at the other
+men.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We must go and help to put his horses away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no suggestion in his words, merely a statement of plain facts.
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill nodded and the three men rose and went to the door.</p>
+
+<p>As they disappeared Jacky turned to Mrs. Norton and Aunt Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If that's Lablache&mdash;I'm off to bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was one of uncompromising decision. Mrs. Abbot was less
+assured.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you think it polite&mdash;wise?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come along, aunt. Never mind about politeness or wisdom. What do you
+say, Mrs. Norton?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As you like, Miss Jacky. I must stay up, or&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;the men can entertain him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Just then Lablache's voice was heard outside. It was a peculiar,
+guttural, gasping voice. Aunt Margaret looked doubtfully from Jacky to
+Mrs. Norton. The latter nodded smilingly. Then following Jacky's lead
+she passed up the staircase which led from the kitchen to the rooms
+above. A moment later the door opened and Lablache and the other men
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They've gone to bed,&quot; said Mrs. Norton, in answer to &quot;Poker&quot; John's
+look of inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tired, no doubt,&quot; put in Lablache, drily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And not without reason, I guess,&quot; retorted &quot;Poker&quot; John, sharply. He
+had not failed to note the other's tone.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache laughed quietly, but his keen, restless eyes shot an unpleasant
+glance at the speaker from beneath their heavy lids.</p>
+
+<p>He was a burly man. In bulk he was of much the same proportions as old
+John Allandale. But while John was big with the weight of muscle and
+frame, Lablache was flabby with fat. In face he was the antithesis of
+the other. Whilst &quot;Poker&quot; John was the picture of florid tanning&mdash;While
+his face, although perhaps a trifle weak in its lower formation, was
+bold, honest, and redounding with kindly nature, Lablache's was
+bilious-looking and heavy with obesity. Whatever character was there, it
+was lost in the heavy folds of flesh with which it was wreathed. His
+jowl was ponderous, and his little mouth was tightly compressed, while
+his deep-sunken, bilious eyes peered from between heavy, lashless lids.</p>
+
+<p>Such was Verner Lablache, the wealthiest man of the Foss River
+Settlement. He owned a large store in the place, selling farming
+machinery to the settlers and ranchers about. His business was always
+done on credit, for which he charged exorbitant rates of interest,
+accepting only first mortgages upon crops and stock as security. Besides
+this he represented several of the Calford private banks, which many
+people said were really owned by him, and there was no one more ready to
+lend money&mdash;on the best of security and the highest rate of
+interest&mdash;than he. Should the borrower fail to pay, he was always
+suavely ready to renew the loan at increased interest&mdash;provided the
+security was sound. And, in the end, every ounce of his pound of flesh,
+plus not less than fifty per cent. interest, would come back to him.
+After Verner Lablache had done with him, the unfortunate rancher who
+borrowed generally disappeared from the neighborhood. Sometimes this
+man's victims were never heard of again. Sometimes they were discovered
+doing the &quot;chores&quot; round some obscure farmer's house. Anyway, ranch,
+crops, stock&mdash;everything the man ever had&mdash;would have passed into the
+hands of the money-lender, Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>Hard-headed dealer&mdash;money-grubber&mdash;as Lablache was, he had a weakness.
+To look at him&mdash;to know him&mdash;no one would have thought it, but he had.
+And at least two of those present were aware of his secret. He was in
+love with Jacky. That is to say, he coveted her&mdash;desired her. When
+Lablache desired anything in that little world of his, he generally
+secured it to himself, but, in this matter, he had hitherto been
+thwarted. His desire had increased proportionately. He was annoyed to
+think that Jacky had retired at his coming. He was in no way blind to
+the reason of her sudden departure, but beyond his first remark he was
+not the man to advertise his chagrin. He could afford to wait.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You'll take a bite o' supper, Mr. Lablache?&quot; said old Norton, in a tone
+of inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supper?&mdash;no, thanks, Norton. But if you've a drop of something hot I
+can do with that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We've gener'ly got somethin' o' that about,&quot; replied the old man.
+&quot;Whiskey or rum?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whisky, man, whisky. I've got liver enough already without touching
+rum.&quot; Then he turned to &quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's a devilish night, John, devilish. I started before you. Thought I
+could make the river in time. I was completely lost on the other side of
+the creek. I fancy the storm worked up from that direction.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He lumped into a chair close beside the stove. The others had already
+seated themselves.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We didn't chance it. Bill drove us straight here,&quot; said &quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess Bill knew something&mdash;he generally does,&quot; as an afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know a blizzard when I see it,&quot; said Bunning-Ford, indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache sipped his whisky. A silence fell on that gathering of
+refugees. Mrs. Norton had cleared the supper things.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, if you gents'll excuse me I'll go back to bed. Old Joe'll look
+after you,&quot; she said abruptly. &quot;Good-night to you all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She disappeared up the staircase. The men remained silent for a moment
+or two. They were getting drowsy. Suddenly Lablache set his glass down
+and looked at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Four o'clock, gentlemen. I suppose, Joe, there are no beds for us.&quot; The
+old farmer shook his head. &quot;What say, John&mdash;Doc&mdash;a little game until
+breakfast?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Allandale's face lit up. His sobriquet was no idle One. He lived
+for poker&mdash;he loved it. And Lablache knew it. Old John turned to the
+others. His right cheek twitched as he waited the decision. &quot;Doc&quot; Abbot
+smiled approval; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill shrugged indifferently. The old gambler
+rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's all right, then. The kitchen table is good enough for us. Come
+along, gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll slide off to bed, I guess,&quot; said Norton, thankful to escape a
+night's vigil. &quot;Good-night, gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then the remaining four sat down to play.</p>
+
+<p>The far-reaching consequences of that game were undreamt of by the
+players, except, perhaps, by Lablache. His story of the reason of his
+return to Norton's farm was only partially true. He had returned in the
+hopes of this meeting; he had anticipated this game.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III" />CHAPTER III - A BIG GAME OF POKER</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;What about cards?&quot; said Lablache, as the four men sat down to the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Doc will oblige, no doubt,&quot; Bunning-Ford replied quietly. &quot;He generally
+carries the 'pernicious pasteboards' about with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The man who travels in the West without them,&quot; said Dr. Abbot,
+producing a couple of new packs from his pocket, &quot;either does not know
+his country or is a victim of superstition.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No one seemed inclined to refuse the doctor's statement, or enter into a
+discussion upon the matter. Instead, each drew out a small memorandum
+block and pencil&mdash;a sure indication of a &quot;big game.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Limit?&quot; asked the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged his shoulders, affectionately shuffling the cards the
+while. He kept his eyes averted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do the others say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a challenge in Lablache's tone. Bunning-Ford flushed slightly
+at the cheek-bones. That peculiar pursing was at his lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Anything goes with me. The higher the game the greater the excitement,&quot;
+he said, shooting a keen glance at the pasty face of the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>Old John was irritated. His ruddy face gleamed in the light of the lamp.
+The nervous twitching of the cheek indicated his frame of mind. Lablache
+smiled to himself behind the wood expression of his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Twenty dollars call for fifty. Limit the bet to three thousand
+dollars. Is that big enough for you, Lablache? Let us have a regulation
+'ante.' No 'straddling.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence. &quot;Poker&quot; John had proposed the biggest game
+they had yet played. He would have suggested no limit, but this he knew
+would be all in favor of Lablache, whose resources were vast.</p>
+
+<p>John glanced over from the money-lender to the doctor. The doctor and
+Bunning-Ford were the most to be considered. Their resources were very
+limited. The old man knew that the doctor was one of those careful
+players who was not likely to allow himself to suffer by the height of
+the stakes. There was no bluffing the doctor. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was able to
+take care of himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's good enough for me,&quot; said Bunning-Ford. &quot;Let it go at that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Outwardly Lablache was indifferent; inwardly he experienced a sense of
+supreme satisfaction at the height of the stakes.</p>
+
+<p>The four men relapsed into silence as they cut for the deal. It was an
+education in the game to observe each man as he, metaphorically
+speaking, donned his mask of impassive reserve. As the game progressed
+any one of those four men might have been a graven image as far as the
+expression of countenance went. No word was spoken beyond &quot;Raise you so
+and so&quot;&mdash;&quot;See you that.&quot; So keen, so ardent was the game that the stake
+might have been one of life and death. No money passed. Just slips of
+paper; and yet any one of those fragments represented a small fortune.</p>
+
+<p>The first few hands resulted in but desultory betting. Sums of money
+changed hands but there was very little in it. Lablache was the
+principal loser. Three &quot;pots&quot; in succession were taken by John
+Allandale, but their aggregate did not amount to half the limit. A
+little luck fell to Bunning-Ford. He once raised Lablache to the limit.
+The money-lender &quot;saw&quot; him and lost. Bill promptly scooped in three
+thousand dollars. The doctor was cautious. He had lost and won nothing.
+Then a change came over the game. To use a card-player's expression, the
+cards were beginning to &quot;run.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill dealt. Lablache was upon his right and next to him the
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender picked up his cards, and partially opening them glanced
+keenly at the index numerals. His stolid face remained unchanged. The
+doctor glanced at his and &quot;came in.&quot; &quot;Poker&quot; John &quot;came in.&quot; The dealer
+remained out. The doctor drew two cards; &quot;Poker&quot; John, one; Lablache
+drew one. The veteran rancher held four nines. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill gathered up
+the &quot;deadwood,&quot; and, propping his face upon his hands, watched the
+betting.</p>
+
+<p>It was the doctor's bet; he cautiously dropped out. He had an inkling of
+the way things were going. &quot;Poker&quot; John opened the ball with five
+hundred dollars. He had a good thing and he did not want to frighten his
+opponent by a plunge. He would leave it to Lablache to start raising.
+The money-lender raised him one thousand. Old John sniffed with the
+appreciation of an old war-horse at the scent of battle. The nervous,
+twitching cheek remained unmoved. The old gambler in him rose uppermost.</p>
+
+<p>He leisurely saw the thousand, and raised another five hundred. Lablache
+allowed his fishy eyes to flash in the direction of his opponent. A
+moment after he raised another thousand. The gamble was becoming
+interesting. The two onlookers were consumed with the lust of play. They
+forgot that in the result they would not be participants. Old John's
+face lost something of its impassivity as he in turn raised to the
+limit. Lablache eased his great body in his chair. His little mouth was
+very tightly clenched. His breathing, at times stertorous, was like the
+breathing of an asthmatical pig. He saw, and again raised to the limit.
+There was now over twelve thousand dollars in the pool.</p>
+
+<p>It was old John's turn. The doctor and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill waited anxiously. The
+old rancher was reputed very wealthy. They felt assured that he would
+not back down after having gone so far. In their hearts they both wished
+to see him relieve Lablache of a lot of money.</p>
+
+<p>They need have had no fears. Whatever his faults &quot;Poker&quot; John was a
+&quot;dead game sport.&quot; He dashed a slip of paper into the pool. The keen
+eyes watching read &quot;four thousand dollars&quot; scrawled upon it. He had
+again raised to the limit. It was now Lablache's turn to accept or
+refuse the challenge. The onlookers were not so sure of the
+money-lender. Would he accept or not?</p>
+
+<p>A curious thought was in the mind of that monument of flesh. He knew for
+certain that he held the winning cards. How he knew it would be
+impossible to say. And yet he hesitated. Perhaps he knew the limits of
+John Allandale's resources, perhaps he felt, for the present, there was
+sufficient in the pool; perhaps, even, he had ulterior motives. Whatever
+the cause, as he passed a slip of paper into the pool merely seeing his
+opponent, his face gave no outward sign of what was passing in the brain
+behind it.</p>
+
+<p>Old John laid down his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Four nines,&quot; he said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not good enough,&quot; retorted Lablache; &quot;four kings.&quot; And he spread his
+cards out upon the table before him and swept up the pile of papers
+which represented his win.</p>
+
+<p>A sigh, as of relief to pent-up feelings, escaped the two men who had
+watched the gamble. Old John said not a word and his face betrayed no
+thought or regret that might have been in his mind at the loss of such a
+large amount of money. He merely glanced over at the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your deal, Lablache,&quot; he said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache took the cards and a fresh deal went round. Now the game became
+one-sided. With that one large pull the money-lender's luck seemed to
+have set in. Seemingly he could do no wrong. If he drew to &quot;three of a
+kind,&quot; he invariably filled; if to a &quot;pair,&quot; he generally secured a
+third; once, indeed, he drew to jack, queen, king of a suit and
+completed a &quot;royal flush.&quot; His luck was phenomenal. The other men's
+luck seemed &quot;dead out.&quot; Bunning-Ford and the doctor could get no hands
+at all, and thus they were saved heavy losses. Occasionally, even, the
+doctor raked in a few &quot;antes.&quot; But John Allandale could do nothing
+right. He was always drawing tolerable cards&mdash;just good enough to lose
+with. Until, by the time daylight came, he had lost so heavily that his
+two friends were eagerly seeking an excuse to break up the game.</p>
+
+<p>At last &quot;Lord&quot; Bill effected this purpose, but at considerable loss to
+himself. He had a fairly good hand, but not, as he knew, sufficiently
+good to win with. Lablache and he were left in. The money-lender had in
+one plunge raised the bet to the &quot;limit.&quot; Bill knew that he ought to
+drop out, but, instead of so doing, he saw his opponent. He lost the
+&quot;pot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you, gentlemen,&quot; he said, quietly rising from the table, &quot;my
+losses are sufficient for one night. I have finished. It is daylight and
+the storm is 'letting up' somewhat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned as he spoke, and, glancing at the staircase, saw Jacky
+standing at the top of it. How long she had been standing there he did
+not know. He felt certain, although she gave no sign, that she had heard
+what he had just said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John saw her too.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Jacky, what means this early rising?&quot; said the old man kindly.
+&quot;Too tired last night to sleep?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, uncle. Guess I slept all right. The wind's dropping fast. I take it
+it'll be blowing great guns again before long. This is our chance to
+make the ranch.&quot; She had been an observer of the finish of the game. She
+had heard Bill's remarks on his loss, and yet not by a single word did
+she betray her knowledge. Inwardly she railed at herself for having gone
+to bed. She wondered how it had fared with her uncle.</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford left the room. Somehow he felt that he must get away from
+the steady gaze of those gray eyes. He knew how Jacky dreaded, for her
+uncle's sake, the game they had just been playing. He wondered, as he
+went to test the weather, what she would have thought had she known the
+stakes, or the extent of her uncle's losses. He hoped she was not aware
+of these facts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You look tired, Uncle John,&quot; said the girl, solicitously, as she came
+down the stairs. She purposely ignored Lablache. &quot;Have you had no
+sleep?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John laughed a little uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sleep, child? We old birds of the prairie can do with very little of
+that. It's only pretty faces that want sleep, and I'm thinking you ought
+still to be in your bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Jacky is ever on the alert to take advantage of the elements,&quot; put
+in Lablache, heavily. &quot;She seems to understand these things better than
+any of us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl was forced to notice the money-lender. She did so reluctantly,
+however.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you, too, sought shelter from the storm beneath old man Norton's
+hospitable roof. You are dead right, Mr. Lablache; we who live on the
+prairie need to be ever on the alert. One never knows what each hour may
+bring forth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl was still in her ball-dress. Lablache's fishy eyes noticed her
+charming appearance. The strong, beautiful face sent a thrill of delight
+over him as he watched it&mdash;the delicate rounded shoulders made him suck
+in his heavy breath like one who anticipates a delicate dish. Jacky
+turned from him in plainly-expressed disgust.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle was watching her with a gaze half uneasy and wholly tender.
+She was the delight of his old age, the center of all his affections,
+this motherless child of his dead brother. His cheek twitched painfully
+as he thought of the huge amount of his losings to Lablache. He shivered
+perceptibly as he rose from his seat and went over to the cooking stove.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe you people have let the stove out,&quot; the girl exclaimed, as
+she noted her uncle's movement. She had no intention of mentioning the
+game they had been playing. She feared to hear the facts. Instinct told
+her that her uncle had lost again. &quot;Yes, I declare you have,&quot; as she
+knelt before the grate and raked away at the ashes.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she turned to the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here, you, fetch me some wood and coal-oil. Men can never be trusted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was no respecter of persons. When she ordered there were few men
+on the prairie who would refuse to obey. Lablache heaved his great bulk
+from before the table and got on to his feet. His bilious eyes were
+struggling to smile. The effect was horrible. Then he moved across the
+room to where a stack of kindling stood.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hurry up. I guess if we depended much on you we'd freeze.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And Lablache, the hardest, most unscrupulous man for miles around,
+endeavored to obey with the alacrity of any sheep-dog.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself John Allandale could not refrain from smiling at the
+grotesque picture the monumental Lablache made as he lumbered towards
+the stack of kindling.</p>
+
+<p>When &quot;Lord&quot; Bill returned Lablache was bending over the stove beside the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've thrown the harness on the horses&mdash;watered and fed 'em,&quot; he said,
+taking in the situation at a glance. &quot;Say, Doc,&quot; turning to Abbot,
+&quot;better rouse your good lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She'll be down in a tick,&quot; said Jacky, over her shoulder. &quot;Here,
+doctor, you might get a kettle of water&mdash;and Bill, see if you can find
+some bacon or stuff. And you, uncle, came and sit by the stove&mdash;you're
+cold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Strange is the power and fascination of woman. A look&mdash;a glance&mdash;a
+simple word and we men hasten to minister to her requirements. Half an
+hour ago and all these men were playing for fortunes&mdash;dealing in
+thousands of dollars on the turn of a card, the passion for besting his
+neighbor uppermost in each man's mind. Now they were humbly doing one
+girl's bidding with a zest unsurpassed by the devotion to their recent
+gamble.</p>
+
+<p>She treated them indiscriminately. Old or young, there was no
+difference. Bunning-Ford she liked&mdash;Dr. Abbot she liked&mdash;Lablache she
+hated and despised, still she allotted them their tasks with perfect
+impartiality. Only her old uncle she treated differently. That dear,
+degenerate old man she loved with an affection which knew no bounds. He
+was her all in the world. Whatever his sins&mdash;whatever his faults, she
+loved him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV" />CHAPTER IV - AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH</h2>
+
+
+<p>Spring is already upon the prairie. The fur coat has already been
+exchanged for the pea-jacket. No longer is the fur cap crushed down upon
+the head and drawn over the ears until little more than the oval of the
+face is exposed to the elements; it is still worn occasionally, but now
+it rests upon the head with the jaunty cant of an ordinary headgear.</p>
+
+<p>The rough coated broncho no longer stands &quot;tucked up&quot; with the cold,
+with its hind-quarters towards the wind. Now he stands grazing on the
+patches of grass which the melting snow has placed at his disposal. The
+cattle, too, hurry to and fro as each day extends their field of fodder.
+When spring sets in in the great North-West it is with no show of
+reluctance that grim winter yields its claims and makes way for its
+gracious and all-conquering foe. Spring is upon everything with all the
+characteristic suddenness of the Canadian climate. A week&mdash;a little
+seven days&mdash;and where all before had been cheerless wastes of snow and
+ice, we have the promise of summer with us. The snow disappears as with
+the sweep of a &quot;chinook&quot; in winter. The brown, saturated grass is tinged
+with the bright emerald hue of new-born pasture. The bared trees don
+that yellowish tinge which tells of breaking leaves. Rivers begin to
+flow. Their icy coatings, melting in the growing warmth of the sun,
+quickly returning once more to their natural element.</p>
+
+<p>With the advent of spring comes a rush of duties to those whose interest
+are centered in the breeding of cattle. The Foss River Settlement is
+already teeming with life. For the settlement is the center of the great
+spring &quot;round-up.&quot; Here are assembling the &quot;cow-punchers&quot; from all the
+outlying ranches, gathering under the command of a captain (generally a
+man elected for his vast experience on the prairie) and making their
+preparations to scour the prairie east and west, north and south, to the
+very limits of the far-reaching plains which spread their rolling
+pastures at the eastern base of the Rockies. Every head of cattle which
+is found will be brought into the Foss River Settlement and thence will
+be distributed to its lawful owners. This is but the beginning of the
+work, for the task of branding calves and re-branding cattle whose
+brands have become obscured during the long winter months is a process
+of no small magnitude for those who number their stocks by tens of
+thousands.</p>
+
+<p>At John Allandale's ranch all is orderly bustle. There is no confusion.
+Under Jacky's administration the work goes on with a simple directness
+which would astonish the uninitiated. There are the corrals to repair
+and to be put in order. Sheds and out-buildings to be whitewashed.
+Branding apparatus to be set in working order, fencing to be repaired,
+preparations for seeding to commence; a thousand and one things to be
+seen to; and all of which must be finished before the first &quot;bands&quot; of
+cattle are rounded up into the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>It is nearly a month since we saw this daughter of the prairie garbed in
+the latest mode, attending the Polo Ball at Calford, and widely
+different is her appearance now from what it was at the time of our
+introduction to her.</p>
+
+<p>She is returning from an inspection of the wire fencing of the home
+pastures. She is riding her favorite horse, Nigger, up the gentle slope
+which leads to her uncle's house. There is nothing of the woman of
+fashion about her now&mdash;and, perhaps, it is a matter not to be regretted.</p>
+
+<p>She sits her horse with the easy grace of a childhood's experience. Her
+habit, if such it can be called, is a &quot;dungaree&quot; skirt of a hardly
+recognizable blue, so washed out is it, surmounted by a beautifully
+beaded buckskin shirt. Loosely encircling her waist, and resting upon
+her hips, is a cartridge belt, upon which is slung the holster of a
+heavy revolver, a weapon without which she never moves abroad. Her head
+is crowned by a Stetson hat, secured in true prairie fashion by a strap
+which passes under her hair at the back, while her beautiful hair itself
+falls in heavy ringlets over her shoulders, and waves untrammelled in
+the fresh spring breeze as her somewhat unruly charger gallops up the
+hill towards the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>The great black horse was heading for the stable. Jacky leant over to
+one side and swung him sharply towards the house. At the veranda she
+pulled him up short. High mettled, headstrong as the animal was, he knew
+his mistress. Tricks which he would often attempt to practice upon other
+people were useless here&mdash;doubtless she had taught him that such was the
+case.</p>
+
+<p>The girl sprang, unaided, to the ground and hitched her picket rope to a
+tying-post. For a moment she stood on the great veranda which ran down
+the whole length of the house front. It was a one-storied,
+bungalow-shaped house, built with a high pitch to the roof and entirely
+constructed of the finest red pine-wood. Six French windows opened on to
+the veranda. The outlook was westerly, and, contrary to the usual
+custom, the ranch buildings were not overlooked by it. The corrals and
+stables were in the background.</p>
+
+<p>She was about to turn in at one of the windows when she suddenly
+observed Nigger's ears cocked, and his head turned away towards the
+shimmering peaks of the distant mountains. The movement fixed her
+attention instantly. It was the instinct of one who lives in a country
+where the eyes and ears of a horse are often keener and more
+far-reaching than those of its human masters. The horse was gazing with
+statuesque fixedness across a waste of partially-melted snow. A stretch
+of ten miles lay flat and smooth as a billiard-table at the foot of the
+rise upon which the house was built. And far out across this the beast
+was gazing.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky shaded her eyes with her hand and followed the direction of the
+horse's gaze. For a moment or two she saw nothing but the dazzling glare
+of the snow in the bright spring sunlight. Then her eyes became
+accustomed to the brilliancy, and far in the distance, she beheld an
+animal peacefully moving along from patch to patch of bare grass,
+evidently in search of fodder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A horse,&quot; she muttered, under her breath. &quot;Whose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She could find no answer to her monosyllabic inquiry. She realized at
+once that to whomsoever it belonged its owner would never recover it,
+for it was grazing on the far side of the great &quot;Muskeg,&quot; that mighty
+bottomless mire which extends for forty miles north and south and whose
+narrowest breadth is a span of ten miles. She was looking across it now,
+and innocent enough that level plain of terror appeared at that moment.
+And yet it was the curse of the ranching district, for, annually,
+hundreds of cattle met an untimely death in its cruel, absorbing bosom.</p>
+
+<p>She turned away for the purpose of fetching a pair of field-glasses. She
+was anxious to identify the horse. She passed along the veranda
+towards the furthest window. It was the window of her uncle's office.
+Just as she was nearing it she heard the sound of voices coming from
+within. She paused, and an ominous pucker drew her brows together. Her
+beautiful dark face clouded. She had no wish to play the part of an
+eavesdropper, but she had recognized the voices of her uncle and
+Lablache. She had also heard the mention of her own name. What woman,
+or, for that matter, man, can refrain from listening when they hear two
+people talking about them. The window was open; Jacky paused&mdash;and
+listened.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's thick voice lolled heavily upon the brisk air.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is a good girl. But don't you think you are considering her future
+from a rather selfish point of view, John?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Selfish?&quot; The old man laughed in his hearty manner &quot;Maybe you're right,
+though. I never thought of that. You see I'm getting old now. I can't
+get around like I used to. Bless me, she's two-an'-twenty.
+Three-and-twenty years since my brother Dick&mdash;God rest his
+soul!&mdash;married that half-breed girl, Josie. Yes, I guess you're right,
+she's bound to marry soon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky smiled a curious dark smile. Something told her why Lablache and
+her uncle were discussing her future.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, of course she is,&quot; said Lablache, &quot;and when that happy event is
+accomplished I hope it will not be with any improvident&mdash;harum-scarum
+man like&mdash;like&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Hon. Bunning-Ford I suppose you would say, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a somewhat sharp tone in the old man's voice which Jacky was
+not slow to detect.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; went on Lablache, with one of those deep whistling breaths which
+made him so like an ancient pug, &quot;since you mention him, for want of a
+better specimen of improvidence, his name will do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So I thought&mdash;so I thought,&quot; laughed the old man. But his words rang
+strangely. &quot;Most people think,&quot; he went on, &quot;that when I die Jacky will
+be rich. But she won't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; replied Lablache, emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>There was a world of meaning in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;However, I guess we can let her hunt around for herself when she wants
+a husband. Jacky's a girl with a head. A sight better head than I've got
+on my old shoulders. When she chooses a husband, and comes and tells me
+of it, she shall have my blessing and anything else I have to give. I'm
+not going to interfere with that girl's matrimonial affairs, sir, not
+for any one. That child, bless her heart, is like my own child to me. If
+she wants the moon, and there's nothing else to stop her having it but
+my consent, why, I guess that moon's as good as fenced in with
+triple-barbed wire an' registered in her name in the Government Land
+Office.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And in the meantime you are going to make that same child work for her
+daily bread like any 'hired man,' and keep company with any scoun&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hi, stop there, Lablache! Stop there,&quot; thundered &quot;Poker&quot; John, and
+Jacky heard a thud as of a fist falling upon the table. &quot;You've taken
+the unwarrantable liberty of poking your nose into my affairs, and,
+because of our old acquaintance, I have allowed it. But now let me tell
+you this is no d&mdash;&mdash;d business of yours. There's no make with Jacky.
+What she does, she does of her own accord.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the girl in question walked abruptly in from the veranda.
+She had heard enough.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, uncle,&quot; she said, smiling tenderly up into the old man's face,
+&quot;talking of me, I guess. You shouted my name just as I was coming along.
+Say, I want the field-glasses. Where are they?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned on Lablache as if she had only just become aware of his
+presence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What, Mr. Lablache, you here? And so early, too. Guess this isn't like
+you. How is your store&mdash;that temple of wealth and high interest&mdash;to get
+on without you? How are the 'improvident'&mdash;'harum-scarums' to live if
+you are not present to minister to their wants&mdash;upon the best of
+security?&quot; Without waiting for a reply the girl picked up the glasses
+she was in search of and darted out, leaving Lablache glaring his
+bilious-eyed rage after her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John stood for a moment a picture of blank surprise; then he
+burst into a loud guffaw at the discomfited money-lender. Jacky heard
+the laugh and smiled. Then she passed out of earshot and concentrated
+her attention upon the distant speck of animal life.</p>
+
+<p>The girl stood for some moments surveying the creature as it moved
+leisurely along, its nose well down amongst the roots of the tawny
+grass, seeking out the tender green shoots of the new-born pasture. Then
+she closed her glasses and her thoughts wandered to other matters.</p>
+
+<p>The gorgeous landscape was, for a moment, utterly lost upon her. The
+snowy peaks of the Rockies, stretching far as the eye could see away to
+the north and south, like some giant fortification set up to defend the
+rolling pastures of the prairies from the ceaseless attack of the stormy
+Pacific Ocean, were far from her thoughts. Her eyes, it is true, were
+resting on the level flat of the muskeg, beyond the grove of slender
+pines which lined the approach to the house, but she was not thinking of
+that. No, recollection was struggling back through two years of a busy
+life, to a time when, for a brief space, she had watched over the
+welfare of another than her uncle, when the dark native blood which
+flowed plentifully in her veins had asserted itself, and a nature which
+was hers had refused to remain buried beneath a superficial European
+training. She was thinking of a man who had formed a secret part of her
+life for a few short years, when she had allowed her heart to dictate a
+course for her actions which no other motive but that of love could have
+brought about. She was thinking of Peter Retief, a pretty scoundrel, a
+renowned &quot;bad man,&quot; a man of wild and reckless daring. He had been the
+terror of the countryside. A cattle-thief who feared neither man nor
+devil; a man who for twelve months and more had carried, his life in his
+hands, the sworn enemy of law and order, but who, in his worst moments,
+had never been known to injure a poor man or a woman. The wild blood of
+the half-breed that was in her had been stirred, as only a woman's blood
+can be, by his reckless dealings, his courage, effrontery, and withal
+his wondrous kindliness of disposition. She was thinking of this man
+now, this man whom she knew to be numbered amongst the countless victims
+of that dreadful mire. And what had conjured this thought? A horse&mdash;a
+horse peacefully grazing far out across the mire in the direction of the
+distant hills which she knew had once been this desperado's home.</p>
+
+<p>Her train of recollection suddenly became broken, and a sigh escaped her
+as the sound of her uncle's voice fell upon her ears. She did not move,
+however, for she knew that Lablache was with him, and this man she hated
+with the fiery hatred only to be found in the half-breeds of any native
+race.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm sorry, John, we can't agree on the point,&quot; Lablache was saying in
+his wheezy voice, as the two men stood at the other end of the veranda,
+&quot;but I'm quite determined Upon the matter myself. The land intersects
+mine and cuts me clean off from the railway siding, and I am forced to
+take my cattle a circle of nearly fifteen miles to ship them. If he
+would only be reasonable and allow a passage I would say nothing. I will
+force him to sell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you can,&quot; put in the rancher. &quot;I reckon you've got chilled steel to
+deal with when you endeavor to 'force' old Joe Norton to sell the finest
+wheat land in the country.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this point in the conversation three men came round from the back of
+the house. They were &quot;cow&quot; hands belonging to the ranch. They approached
+Jacky with the easy assurance of men who were as much companions as
+servants of their mistress. All three, however, touched their
+wide-brimmed hats in unmistakable respect. They were clad in buckskin
+shirts and leather &quot;chaps,&quot; and each had his revolver upon his hip. The
+girl lost the rest of the conversation between her uncle and Lablache,
+for her attention was turned to the men.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; she asked shortly, as the men stood before her.</p>
+
+<p>One of the men, a tall, lank specimen of the dark-skinned prairie
+half-breed, acted as spokesman.</p>
+
+<p>He ejected a squirt of tobacco juice from his great, dirty mouth before
+he spoke. Then with a curious backward jerk of the head he blurted out a
+stream of Western jargon.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, missie,&quot; he exclaimed in a high-pitched nasal voice, &quot;it ain't no
+use in talkin', ye kent put no tenderfoot t' boss the round-up. There's
+them all-fired Donoghue lot jest sent right in t' say, 'cause, I s'pose,
+they reckon as they're the high muck-i-muck o' this location, that that
+tarnation Sim Lory, thar head man, is to cap' the round-up. Why, he
+ain't cast a blamed foot on the prairie sence he's been hyar. An' I'll
+swear he don't know the horn o' his saddle from a monkey stick. Et ain't
+right, missie, an' us fellers t' work under him an' all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His address came to an abrupt end, and he gave emphasis to his words by
+a prolonged expectoration. Jacky, her eyes sparkling with anger, was
+quick to reply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look you here, Silas, just go right off and throw your saddle on your
+pony&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess it's right thar, missie,&quot; the man interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then sling off as fast as your plug can lay foot to the ground, and
+give John Allandale's compliments to Jim Donoghue and say, if they don't
+send a capable man, since they've been appointed to find the 'captain,'
+he'll complain to the Association and insist on the penalty being
+enforced. What, do they take us for a lot of 'gophers'? Sim Lory,
+indeed; why, he's not fit to prise weeds with a two tine hay fork.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The men went off hurriedly. Their mistress's swift methods of dealing
+with matters pleased them. Silas was more than pleased to be able to get
+a &quot;slant&quot; (to use his own expression) at his old enemy, Sim Lory. As the
+men departed &quot;Poker&quot; John came and stood beside his niece.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's that about Sim Lory, Jacky?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They've sent him to run this 'round-up.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I just told them it wouldn't do,&quot; indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>Old John smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In those words?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, no, uncle,&quot; the girl said with a responsive smile. &quot;But they
+needed a 'jinning' up. I sent the message in your name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head, but his indulgent smile remained.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You'll be getting me into serious trouble with that impetuosity of
+yours, Jacky,&quot; he said absently. &quot;But there&mdash;I daresay you know best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His words were characteristic of him. He left the entire control of the
+ranch to this girl of two-and-twenty, relying implicitly upon her
+judgment in all things. It was a strange thing to do, for he was still a
+vigorous man. To look at him was to make oneself wonder at the reason.
+But the girl accepted the responsibility without question. There was a
+subtle sympathy between uncle and niece. Sometimes Jacky would gaze up
+into his handsome old face and something in the twitching cheek, the
+curiously-shaped mouth, hidden beneath the gray mustache, would cause
+her to turn away with a sigh, and, with stimulated resolution, hurl
+herself into the arduous labors of managing the ranch. What she read in
+that dear, honest face she loved so well she kept locked in her own
+secret heart, and never, by word or act, did she allow herself to betray
+it. She was absolute mistress of the Foss River Ranch and she knew it.
+Old &quot;Poker&quot; John, like the morphine &quot;fiend,&quot; merely continued to keep up
+his reputation and the more fully deserve his sobriquet. His mind, his
+character, his whole being was being slowly but surely absorbed in the
+lust of gambling.</p>
+
+<p>The girl laid her hand upon the old man's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle&mdash;what was Lablache talking to you about? I mean when I came for
+the field-glasses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was gazing abstractedly into the dense growth of pines
+which fringed the house. He pulled himself together, but his eyes had in
+them a far-away look.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Many things,&quot; he replied evasively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I know, dear, but,&quot; bending her face while she removed one of her
+buckskin gauntlets from her hand, &quot;I mean about me. You two
+were-discussing me, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She turned her keen gray eyes upon her relative as she finished
+speaking. The old man turned away. He felt that those eyes were reading
+his very soul. They made him uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, he said I ought not to let you associate with certain people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot; The sharp question came with the directness of a pistol-shot.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, he seemed to think that you might think of marrying.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He seemed to fancy that you, being impetuous, might make a mistake and
+fall&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In love with the wrong man. Yes, I understand; and from his point of
+view, if ever I do marry it will undoubtedly be the wrong man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And the girl finished up with a mirthless laugh.</p>
+
+<p>They stood for some moments in silence. They were both thinking. The
+noise from the corrals behind the house reached them. The steady drip,
+drip of the water from the melting snow upon the roof of the house
+sounded loudly as it fell on the sodden ground beneath.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle, did it ever strike you that that greasy money-lender wants to
+marry me himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The question startled John Allandale more than anything else could have
+done. He turned sharply round and faced his niece.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Marry you, Jacky?&quot; he repeated. &quot;I never thought of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It isn't to be supposed that you would have done so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was the faintest tinge of bitterness in the girl's answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And do you really think that he wants to marry you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know quite. Perhaps I am wrong, uncle, and my imagination has
+run away with me. Yes, I sometimes think he wants to marry me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They both relapsed into silence. Then her uncle spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky, what you have just said has made something plain to me which I
+could not understand before. He came and gave me&mdash;unsolicited, mind&mdash;&quot;a
+little eagerly, &quot;a detailed account of Bunning-Ford's circumstances,
+and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Endeavored to bully you into sending him about his business. Poor old
+Bill! And what was his account of him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl's eyes were glowing with quickly-roused passion, but she kept
+them turned from her uncle's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He told me that the boy had heavy mortgages on his land and stock. He
+told me that if he were to realize to-morrow there would be little or
+nothing for himself. Everything would go to some firm in Calford. In
+short, that he has gambled his ranch away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And he told this to you, uncle, dear.&quot; Then the girl paused and looked
+far out across the great muskeg. In her abrupt fashion she turned again
+to the old man. &quot;Uncle,&quot; she went on, &quot;tell me truly, do you owe
+anything to Lablache? Has he any hold upon you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a world of anxiety in her voice as she spoke. John Allandale
+tried to follow her thought before he answered. He seemed to grasp
+something of her meaning, for in a moment his eyes took on an expression
+of pain. Then his words came slowly, as from one who is not sure of what
+he is saying.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I owe him some&mdash;money&mdash;yes&mdash;but&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The question was jerked viciously from the girl's lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky turned slowly away until her eyes rested upon the distant, grazing
+horse. A strange restlessness seemed to be upon her. She was fidgeting
+with the gauntlet which she had just removed. Then slowly her right hand
+passed round to her hip, where it rested upon the butt of her revolver.
+There was a tight drawnness about her lips and her keen gray eyes looked
+as though gazing into space.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How much?&quot; she said at last, breaking the heavy silence which had
+followed upon her uncle's admission. Then before he could answer she
+went on deliberately: &quot;But there&mdash;I guess it don't cut any figure.
+Lablache shall be paid, and I take it his bill of interest won't amount
+to more than we can pay if we're put to it. Poor old Bill!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V" />CHAPTER V - THE &quot;STRAY&quot; BEYOND THE MUSKEG</h2>
+
+
+<p>The Foss River Settlement nestles in one of those shallow
+hollows&mdash;scarcely a valley and which yet must be designated by such a
+term&mdash;in which the Canadian North-West abounds.</p>
+
+<p>We are speaking now of the wilder and less-inhabited parts of the great
+country, where grain-growing is only incidental, and the prevailing
+industry is stock-raising. Where the land gradually rises towards the
+maze-like foothills before the mighty crags of the Rockies themselves be
+reached. A part where yet is to be heard of the romantic crimes of the
+cattle-raiders; a part to where civilization has already turned its
+face, but where civilizaton has yet to mature. In such a country is
+situate the Foss River Settlement.</p>
+
+<p>The settlement itself is like dozens of others of its kind. There is the
+school-house, standing by itself, apart from other buildings, as if in
+proud distinction for its classic vocation. There is the church, or
+rather chapel, where every denomination holds its services. A saloon,
+where four per cent. beer and prohibition whiskey of the worst
+description is openly sold over the bar; where you can buy poker &quot;chips&quot;
+to any amount, and can sit down and play from daylight till dark, from
+dark to daylight. A blacksmith and wheelwright; a baker; a carpenter; a
+doctor who is also a druggist; a store where one can buy every article
+of dry goods at exorbitant prices&mdash;and on credit; and then, besides all
+this, well beyond the township limit there is a half-breed settlement, a
+place which even to this day is a necessary evil and a constant thorn
+in the side of that smart, efficient force&mdash;the North-West Mounted
+Police.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's store stands in the center of the settlement, facing on to
+the market-place&mdash;the latter a vague, undefined space of waste ground on
+which vendors of produce are wont to draw up their wagons. The store is
+a massive building of great extent. Its proportions rise superior to its
+surroundings, as if to indicate in a measure its owner's worldly status
+in the district It is built entirely of stone, and roofed with
+slate&mdash;the only building of such construction in the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>A wonderful center of business is Lablache's store&mdash;the chief one for a
+radius of fifty miles. Nearly the whole building is given up to the
+stocking of goods, and only at the back of the building is to be found a
+small office which answers the multifarious purposes of office, parlor,
+dining-room, smoking-room&mdash;in short, every necessity of its owner,
+except bedroom, which occupies a mere recess partitioned off by thin
+matchwood boarding.</p>
+
+<p>Wealthy as Lablache was known to be he spent little or no money upon
+himself beyond just sufficient to purchase the bare necessities of life.
+He had few requirements which could not be satisfied under the headings
+of tobacco and food&mdash;both of which he indulged himself freely. The
+saloon provided the latter, and as for the former, trade price was best
+suited to his inclinations, and so he drew upon his stock. He was a
+curious man, was Verner Lablache&mdash;a man who understood the golden value
+of silence. He never even spoke of his nationality. Foss River was
+content to call him curious&mdash;some people preferred other words to
+express their opinion.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache had known John Allandale for years. Who, in Foss River, had he
+not known for years? Lablache would have liked to call old John his
+friend, but somehow &quot;Poker&quot; John had never responded to the
+money-lender's advances. Lablache showed no resentment. If he cared at
+all he was careful to keep his feelings hidden. One thing is certain,
+however, he allowed himself to think long and often of old John&mdash;and his
+household. Often, when in the deepest stress of his far-reaching work,
+he would heave his great bulk back in his chair and allow those fishy,
+lashless, sphinx-like eyes of his to gaze out of his window in the
+direction of the Foss River Ranch. His window faced in the direction of
+John's house, which was plainly visible on the slope which bounded the
+southern side of the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>And so it came about a few days later, in one of these digressions of
+thought, that the money-lender, gazing out towards the ranch, beheld a
+horseman riding slowly up to the veranda of the Allandale's house. There
+was nothing uncommon in the incident, but the sight riveted his
+attention, and an evil light came into his usually expressionless eyes.
+He recognized the horseman as the Hon. Bunning-Ford.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache swung round on his revolving chair, and, in doing so, kicked
+over a paper-basket. The rapidity of his movement was hardly to be
+expected in one of his bulk. His thin eyebrows drew together in an ugly
+frown.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does he want?&quot; he muttered, under his heavy breath.</p>
+
+<p>He hazarded no answer to his own question. It was answered for him. He
+saw the figure of a woman step out on to the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender rose swiftly to his feet and took a pair of
+field-glasses from their case. Adjusting them he gazed long and
+earnestly at the house on the hill.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was talking to &quot;Lord&quot; Bill. She was habited in her dungaree skirt
+and buckskin bodice. Presently Bill dismounted and passed into the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shut his glasses with a snap and turned away from the window.
+For some time he stood gazing straight before him and a swift torrent of
+thought flowed through his active brain. Then, with the directness of
+one whose mind is made up, he went over to a small safe which stood in
+a corner of the room. From this he took an account book. The cover bore
+the legend &quot;Private.&quot; He laid it upon the table, and, for some moments,
+bent over it as he scanned its pages.</p>
+
+<p>He paused at an account headed John Allandale. The figures of this
+account were very large, totalling into six figures. The balance against
+the rancher was enormous. Lablache gave a satisfied grunt as he turned
+over to another account.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Safe&mdash;safe enough. Safe as the Day of Doom,&quot; he said slowly. His mouth
+worked with a cruel smile.</p>
+
+<p>He paused at the account of Bunning-Ford.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Twenty thousand dollars&mdash;um,&quot; the look of satisfaction was changed. He
+looked less pleased, but none the less cruel. &quot;Not enough&mdash;let me see.
+His place is worth fifty thousand dollars. Stock another thirty
+thousand. I hold thirty-five thousand on first mortgage for the Calford
+Trust and Loan Co.&quot; He smiled significantly. &quot;This bill of sale for
+twenty thousand is in my own name. Total, fifty-five thousand. Sell him
+up and there would still be a margin. No, not yet, my friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He closed the book and put it away. Then he walked to the window.
+Bunning-Ford's horse was still standing outside the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He must be dealt with soon,&quot; he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>And in those words was concentrated a world of hate and cruel purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Who shall say of what a man's disposition is composed? Who shall
+penetrate those complex feelings which go to make a man what his secret
+consciousness knows himself to be? Not even the man himself can tell the
+why and wherefore of his passions and motives. It is a matter beyond the
+human ken. It is a matter which neither science nor learning can tell us
+of. Verner Lablache was possessed of all that prosperity could give him.
+He was wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, and no pleasure which money
+could buy was beyond his reach. He knew, only too well, that when the
+moment came, and he wished it, he could set out for any of the great
+centers of fashion and society, and there purchase for himself a wife
+who would fulfill the requirements of the most fastidious. In his own
+arrogant mind he went further, and protested that he could choose whom
+he would and she would be his. But this method he set aside as too
+simple, and, instead, had decided to select for his wife a girl whom he
+had watched grow up to womanhood from the first day that she had opened
+her great, wondering eyes upon the world. And thus far he had been
+thwarted. All his wealth went for nothing. The whim of this girl he had
+chosen was more powerful in this matter than was gold&mdash;the gold he
+loved. But Lablache was not the man to sit down and admit of defeat; he
+meant to marry Joaquina Allandale willy-nilly. Love was impossible to
+such a man as he. He had conceived an absorbing passion for her, it is
+true, but love&mdash;as it is generally understood&mdash;no. He was not a young
+man&mdash;the victim of a passion, fierce but transient. He was matured in
+all respects&mdash;in mind and body. His passion was lasting, if impure, and
+he meant to take to himself the girl-wife. Nothing should stand in his
+way.</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to his desk, but not to work.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime the object of his forcible attentions was holding an
+interesting <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> with the man against whom he fostered an evil
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was seated at a table in the pleasant sitting-room of her uncle's
+house. Spread out before her were several open stock books, from which
+she was endeavoring to estimate the probable number of &quot;beeves&quot; which
+the early spring would produce. This was a task which she always liked
+to do herself before the round-up was complete, so as the easier to sort
+the animals into their various pastures when they should come in. Her
+visitor was standing with his back to the stove, in typical Canadian
+fashion. He was, clad in a pair of well-worn chaps drawn over a pair of
+moleskin trousers, and wore a gray tweed coat and waistcoat over a soft
+cotton shirt, of the &quot;collar attached&quot; type. As he stood there the stoop
+of his shoulders was very pronounced. His fair hair was carefully
+brushed, and although his face was slightly weather-stained, still, it
+was quite easy to imagine the distinguished figure he would be, clad in
+all the solemn pomp of broadcloth and the silk glaze of fashionable
+society in the neighborhood of Bond Street.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was not looking at her books. She was looking up and smiling at
+a remark her companion had just made.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so your friend, Pat Nabob, is going up into the mountains after
+gold. Does he know anything about prospecting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think so&mdash;he's had some experience.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky became serious. She rose and turned to the window, which commanded
+a perfect view of the distant peaks of the Rockies, towering high above
+the broad, level expanse of the great muskeg. With her back still turned
+to him she fired an abrupt question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, Bill, guess 'Pickles' has some other reason for this mad scheme.
+What is it? You can't tell me he's going just for love of the adventure
+of the thing. Now, let's hear the truth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Unobserved by the girl, her companion shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you want his reason you'd better ask him, Jacky. I can only
+surmise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So can I.&quot; Jacky turned sharply. &quot;I'll tell you why he's going, Bill,
+and you can bet your last cent I'm right. Lablache is at the bottom of
+it. He's at the bottom of everything that causes people to leave Foss
+River. He's a blood-sucker.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford nodded. He was rarely expansive. Moreover, he knew he could
+add nothing to what the girl had said. She expressed his sentiments
+fully. There was a pause. Jacky was keenly eyeing the tall thin figure
+at the stove.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why did you come to tell me of this?&quot; she asked at last.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thought you'd like to know. You like 'Pickles.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;Bill, you are thinking of going with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her companion laughed uneasily. This girl was very keen.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I didn't say so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, but still you are thinking of doing so. See here, Bill, tell me all
+about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill coughed. Then he turned, and stooping, shook the ashes from the
+stove and opened the damper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Beastly cold in here,&quot; he remarked inconsequently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;but, out with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill stood up and turned his indolent eyes upon his interrogator.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wasn't thinking of going&mdash;to the mountains.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To the Yukon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In spite of herself the girl could not help the exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why?&quot; she went on a moment later.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, if you must have it, I shan't be able to last out this
+summer&mdash;unless a stroke of luck falls to my share.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Financially?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Financially.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;and the Calford Trust Co.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The same thing,&quot; with conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Exactly&mdash;the same thing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you stand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If I meet the interest on my mortgages it will take away every head of
+fat cattle I can scrape together, and then I cannot pay Lablache other
+debts which fall due in two weeks' time.&quot; He quietly drew out his
+tobacco-pouch and rolled a cigarette. He seemed quite indifferent to his
+difficulties. &quot;If I realize on the ranch now there'll be something left
+for me. If I go on, by the end of the summer there won't be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose you mean that you will be deeper in debt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He smiled in his own peculiarly lazy fashion as he held a lighted match
+to his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so. I shall owe Lablache more,&quot; he said, between spasmodic draws
+at his tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache has wonderful luck at cards.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky returned to the table and sat down. She turned the pages of a
+stock book idly. She was thinking and the expression of her dark,
+determined little face indicated the unpleasant nature of her thoughts.
+Presently she looked up and encountered the steady gaze of her
+companion. They were great friends&mdash;these two. In that glance each read
+in the other's mind something of a mutual thought. Jacky, with womanly
+readiness, put part of it into words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No one ever seems to win against him, Bill. Guess he makes a steady
+income out of poker.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man nodded and gulped down a deep inhalation from his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wonderful luck,&quot; the girl went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some people call it 'luck,'&quot; put in Bill, quietly, but with a curious
+purse of the lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you call it?&quot; sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford refused to commit himself. He contented himself with
+blowing the ash from his cigarette and crossing over to the window,
+where he stood looking out. He had come there that afternoon with a
+half-formed intention of telling this girl something which every girl
+must hope to hear sooner or later in her life. He had come there with
+the intention of ending, one way or the other, a
+friendship&mdash;<i>camaraderie</i>&mdash;whatever you please to call it, by telling
+this hardy girl of the prairie the old, old story over again. He loved
+this woman with an intensity that very few would have credited him with.
+Who could associate lazy, good-natured, careless &quot;Lord&quot; Bill with
+serious love? Certainly not his friends. And yet such was the case, and
+for that reason had he come. The affairs of Pat Nabob were but a
+subterfuge. And now he found it impossible to pronounce the words he had
+so carefully thought out. Jacky was not the woman to approach easily
+with sentiment, she was so &quot;deucedly practical.&quot; So Bill said to
+himself. It was useless to speculate upon her feelings. This girl never
+allowed anything approaching sentiment to appear upon the surface. She
+knew better than to do so. She had the grave responsibility of her
+uncle's ranch upon her shoulders, therefore all men must be kept at
+arm's length. She was in every sense a woman, passionate, loyal, loving.
+But in addition nature had endowed her with a spirit which rose superior
+to feminine attributes and feelings. The blood in her veins&mdash;her life on
+the prairie&mdash;her tender care and solicitude for her uncle, of whose
+failings and weaknesses she was painfully aware, had caused her to put
+from her all thoughts of love and marriage. Her life must be devoted to
+him, and while he lived she was determined that no thought of self
+should interfere with her self-imposed duty.</p>
+
+<p>At last &quot;Lord&quot; Bill broke the silence which had fallen upon the room
+after the girl's unanswered question. His remark seemed irrevelant and
+inconsequent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's a horse on the other side of the muskeg. Who's is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was at his side in an instant. So suddenly had she bounded from
+the table, that her companion turned, with that lazy glance of his, and
+looked keenly at her. He failed to understand her excitement. She had
+snatched up a pair of field-glasses and had already leveled them at the
+distant object.</p>
+
+<p>She looked long and earnestly across the miry waste. Then she turned to
+her companion with a strange look in her beautiful gray eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, I've seen that horse before. Four days ago. I've looked for it
+ever since, but couldn't see it. I'm going to round it up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh? How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill was looking out across the muskeg again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I'm going right across there this evening,&quot; the girl said
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Across the muskeg?&quot; Her companion was roused out of himself. His
+usually lazy gray eyes were gleaming brightly. &quot;Impossible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not at all, Bill,&quot; she replied, with an easy smile. &quot;I know the path.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I thought there was only one man who ever knew that mythical path,
+and&mdash;he is dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite right, Bill&mdash;only one <i>man</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then the old stories&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a peculiar expression on the man's face. The girl interrupted
+him with a gay laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bother the 'old stories.' I'm going across there this evening after
+tea&mdash;coming?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford looked across at the clock&mdash;the hands pointed to half-past
+one. He was silent for a minute. Then he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll be with you at four if&mdash;if you'll tell me all about&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter Retief&mdash;yes, I'll tell you as we go, Bill. What are you going to
+do until then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm going down to the saloon to meet 'Pickles,' your pet aversion,
+Pedro Mancha, and we're going to find a fourth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, poker?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, poker.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm sorry, Bill. But be here at four sharp and I'll tell you all about
+it. See here, boy, 'mum's' the word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The craving of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's life was excitement. His
+temperament bordered on the lethargic. He felt that unless he could
+obtain excitement life was utterly unbearable. He had sought it all over
+the world before he had adopted the life of a rancher. Here in the West
+of Canada he had found something of what he sought. There was the big
+game shooting in the mountains, and the pursuit of the &quot;grizzly&quot; is the
+most wildly enthralling chase in the world. There was the taming and
+&quot;breaking&quot; of the wild and furious &quot;broncho&quot;&mdash;the most exemplary
+&quot;bucking&quot; horse in the world. There was the &quot;round-up&quot; and handling of
+cattle which never failed to give unlimited excitement. And then, at all
+times, was the inevitable poker, that king of all excitements among card
+games. The West of Canada had pleased &quot;Lord&quot; Bill as did no other
+country, and so he had invested the remains of his younger son's portion
+in stock.</p>
+
+<p>He had asked for excitement and Canada had responded generously. Bill
+had found more than excitement, he had found love; and had found a
+wealth of real friendship rarely equaled in the busy cities of
+civilization.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of all these things which, seeking, he had found, came this
+suggestion from a girl. The muskeg&mdash;the cruel, relentless muskeg, that
+mire, dreaded and shunned by white men and natives alike. It could be
+crossed by a secret, path. The thought pleased him. And none knew of
+this path except a man who was dead and this girl he loved. There was a
+strange excitement in the thought of such a journey.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill, ignoring his stirrup, vaulted into his saddle, and, as he
+swung his horse round and headed towards the settlement, he wondered
+what the day would bring forth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Confound the cards,&quot; he muttered, as he rode away.</p>
+
+<p>And it was the first time in his life that he had reluctantly
+contemplated a gamble.</p>
+
+<p>Had he only known it, a turning-point in his life was rapidly
+approaching&mdash;a turning-point which would lead to events which, if told
+as about to occur in the nineteenth century, would surely bring down
+derision upon the head of the teller. And yet would the derided one have
+right on his side.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI" />CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<p>&quot;WAYS THAT ARE DARK&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>It was less than a quarter of a mile from the Allandales' house to the
+saloon&mdash;a den of reeking atmosphere and fouler spirits.</p>
+
+<p>The saloon at Foss River was no better and no worse than hundreds of
+others in the North-West at the time of which we write. It was a fairly
+large wooden building standing at the opposite end of the open space
+which answered the purpose of a market-place, and facing Lablache's
+store. Inside, it was gloomy, and the air invariably reeked of stale
+tobacco and drink. The bar was large, and at one end stood a piano kept
+for the purpose of &quot;sing-songs&quot;&mdash;nightly occurrences when the execrable
+whisky had done its work. Passing through the bar one finds a large
+dining-room on one side of a passage, and, on the other, a number of
+smaller rooms devoted to the use of those who wished to play poker.</p>
+
+<p>It was towards this place that the Hon. Bunning-Ford was riding in the
+leisurely manner of one to whom time is no object.</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts were far from matters pertaining to his destination, and he
+would gladly have welcomed anything which could have interfered with his
+projected game. For the moment poker had lost its charm.</p>
+
+<p>This man was at no time given to vacillation. All his methods were, as a
+rule, very direct. Underneath his easy nonchalance he was of a very
+decided nature. His thin face at times could suddenly become very keen.
+His true character was hidden by the cultivated lazy expression of his
+eyes. Bunning-Ford was one of those men who are at their best in
+emergency. At all other times life was a thing which it was impossible
+for him to take seriously. He valued money as little as he valued
+anything in the world. Poker he looked upon as a means to an end. He had
+no religious principles, but firmly believed in doing as he would be
+done by. Honesty and truth he loved, because to him they were clean. It
+mattered nothing to him what his surroundings might be, for, though
+living in them, he was not of them. He would as soon sit down to play
+cards with three known murderers as play in the best club in London, and
+he would treat them honestly and expect the same in return&mdash;but a loaded
+revolver would be slung upon his hip and the holster would be open and
+handy.</p>
+
+<p>As he neared the saloon he recognized the figures of two men walking in
+the direction of the saloon. They were the doctor and John Allandale. He
+rode towards them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hallo, Bill, whither bound?&quot; said the old rancher, as the younger man
+came up. &quot;Going to join us in the parlor of Smith's fragrant hostelry?
+The spider is already there weaving the web in which he hopes to ensnare
+us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who's the spider&mdash;Lablache?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we're going to play. It's the first time for some days. Guess
+we've all been too busy with the round-up. Won't you really join us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't. I've promised Mancha and 'Pickles' revenge for a game we played
+the other night, when I happened to relieve them of a few dollars.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sensible man&mdash;Lablache is too consistent,&quot; put in the doctor, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nonsense,&quot; said &quot;Poker&quot; John, optimistically. &quot;You're always carping
+about the man's luck. We must break it soon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we've suggested that before.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill spoke with meaning and finished up with a purse of the lips.</p>
+
+<p>They were near the saloon.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How long are you going to play?&quot; he went on quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right through the evening,&quot; replied &quot;Poker&quot; John, with keen
+satisfaction. &quot;And you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only until four o'clock. I am going to take tea up at your place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man offered no comment and Bill dismounted and tied the horse to
+a post, and the three men entered the stuffy bar. The room was half full
+of people. They were mostly cow-boys or men connected with the various
+ranches about the neighborhood. Words of greeting hailed the new-comers
+on all sides, but old John, who led the way, took little or no notice of
+those whom he recognized. The lust of gambling was upon him, and, as a
+dipsomaniac craves for drink, so he was longing to feel the smooth
+surface of pasteboard between his fingers. While Bunning-Ford stopped to
+exchange a word with some of those he met, the other two men went
+straight up to the bar. Smith himself, a grizzled old man, with a
+tobacco-stained gray moustache and beard, and the possessor of a pair of
+narrow, wicked-looking eyes, was serving out whisky to a couple of
+worse-looking half-breeds. It was noticeable that every man present wore
+at his waist either a revolver or a long sheath knife. Even the
+proprietor was fully armed. The half-breeds wore knives.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was apparently a man of distinction here. Possibly the
+knowledge that he played a big game elicited for him a sort of
+indifferent respect. Anyway, the half-breeds moved to allow him to
+approach the bar.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache here?&quot; asked the rancher, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is,&quot; replied Mr. Smith, in a drawling voice, as he pushed the two
+whiskies across to the waiting half-breeds. &quot;Been here half an hour.
+Jest pass right through, mister. Maybe you'll find him located in number
+two.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt that John B. Smith hailed from America. Although the
+Canadian is not devoid of the American accent there is not much doubt of
+nationality when one hears the real thing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good; come on, Doc. No, thanks, Smith,&quot; as the man behind the bar
+reached towards a bottle with a white seal. &quot;We'll have something later
+on. Number two on the right, I think you said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two men passed on into the back part of the premises.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess dollars'll be flyin' 'fore the night's out,&quot; said Smith,
+addressing any who cared to listen, and indicating &quot;Poker&quot; John with a
+jerk of the head in the direction of the door through which the two men
+had just passed. &quot;Make the banks hum when they raise the 'bid.' Guess
+ther' ain't many o' ther' likes roun' these parts. Rye or Scotch?&quot; to
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill and three other men who came up at that moment. Mancha and
+&quot;Pickles&quot; were with him, and a fourth player&mdash;the deposed captain of the
+&quot;round-up,&quot; Sim Lory.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Scotch, you old heathen, of course,&quot; replied Bill, with a tolerant
+laugh. &quot;You don't expect us to drink fire-water. If you kept decent Rye
+it would be different. We're going to have a flutter. Any room?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Number two, I guess. Chock-a-block in the others. Tolerable run on
+poker these times. All the round-up hands been gettin' advances, I take
+it. Say when.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The four men said &quot;when&quot; in due course, and each watered his own whisky.
+The proprietor went on, with a quick twinkle of his beady eyes,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ther's Mr. Allandale an' Lablache and company in number two. Nobody
+else, I guess. I've a notion you'll find plenty of room. Chips, no? All
+right; goin' to play a tidy game? Good!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The four men, having swallowed their drink, followed in the footsteps of
+the others.</p>
+
+<p>There was something very brisk and business-like about this
+gambling-hell. Early settlers doubtless remember in the days of
+&quot;prohibition,&quot; when four per cent. beer was supposed to be the only
+beverage of the country, and before rigid legislation, backed by the
+armed force of the North-West Mounted Police, swept these frightful
+pollutions from the fair face of the prairie, how they thrived on the
+encouragement of gambling and the sale of contraband spirits. The West
+is a cleaner country now, thanks to the untiring efforts of the police.</p>
+
+<p>In number two &quot;Poker&quot; John and his companions were already getting to
+work when Bill and his friends entered. Beyond a casual remark they
+seemed to take little notice of each other. One and all were eager to
+begin the play.</p>
+
+<p>A deep silence quickly fell upon the room. It was the silence of
+suppressed excitement. A silence only broken by monosyllabic and almost
+whispered betting and &quot;raising&quot; as the games proceeded. An hour passed
+thus. At the table where Lablache and John Allandale were playing the
+usual luck prevailed. The money-lender seemed unable to do wrong, and at
+the other table Bunning-Ford was faring correspondingly badly. Pedro
+Mancha, the Mexican, a man of obscure past and who lived no one quite
+knew how, but who always appeared to find the necessary to gamble with,
+was the favored one of dame Fortune. Already he had heaped before him a
+pile of &quot;bills&quot; and I.O.U.'s most of which bore &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's signature.
+Looking on at either table, no one from outward signs could have said
+which way the luck was going. Only the scribblings of the pencils upon
+the memo pads and the gradual accumulation of the precious slips of
+paper before Lablache at one table and the wild-eyed, dark-skinned
+Mexican at the other, told the story of the ruin which was surely being
+accomplished.</p>
+
+<p>At length, with a loser's privilege, Bunning-Ford, after glancing at his
+watch, rose from the table. His lean face was in no way disturbed. He
+seemed quite indifferent to his losses.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll quit you, Pedro,&quot; he said, smiling lazily down at the Mexican.
+&quot;You're a bit too hot for me to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dark-skinned man smiled a vague, non-committing smile and displayed
+a double row of immaculate teeth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good. You shall have your revenge. Doubtless you would like some of
+these papers back,&quot; he said, as he swept them leisurely into his
+pocket-book, and then sugar-bagging a cigarette paper he poured a few
+grains of granulated tobacco into it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I daresay I shall relieve you of some later on,&quot; replied Bill,
+quietly. Then he turned to the other table and stood watching the play.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced anxiously at the bare table in front of the old rancher. Even
+Dr. Abbot was well stocked with slips of paper. Then his gaze fell upon
+the money-lender, behind whose huge back he was standing.</p>
+
+<p>He moved slightly to one side. It is an unwritten law amongst poker
+players, in a public place in the west of the American continent, that
+no onlooker should stand immediately behind any player. He moved to
+Lablache's right. The money-lender was dealing. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill lit a
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>The cards were dealt round. Then the draw. Then Lablache laid the pack
+down. Bunning-Ford had noted these things mechanically. Then something
+caught his attention. It was his very indifference which caused his
+sudden attention. Had he been following the game with his usual keenness
+he would only have been thinking of the betting.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was writing upon his memo, pad, which was a gorgeous effort in
+silver mounting. One of those oblong blocks with a broad band of
+burnished silver at the binding of the perforated leaves. He knew that
+this was the pad the money-lender always used; anyway, it was similar in
+all respects to his usual memorandum pads.</p>
+
+<p>How it was his attention had become fixed upon that pad he could not
+have told, but now an inspiration came to him. His face remained
+unchanged in its expression, but those lazy eyes of his gleamed wickedly
+as he leisurely puffed at his cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>The bet went round. Lablache raised and raised again. Eventually the
+rancher &quot;saw&quot; him. The other took the pool. No word was spoken, but
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill gritted his teeth and viciously pitched his cigarette to
+the other end of the room.</p>
+
+<p>During the next two deals he allowed his attention to wander. Lablache
+dropped out one hand, and, in the next, he merely &quot;filled&quot; his &quot;ante&quot;
+and allowed the doctor to take in the pool. John Allandale's face was
+serious. The nervous twitching of the cheek was still, but the drawn
+lines around his mouth were in no way hidden by his gray mustache, nor
+did the eager light which burned luridly in his eyes for one moment
+deceive the onlooker as to the anxiety of mind which his features
+masked.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was Lablache's deal. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill concentrated his attention upon
+the dealer. The money-lender was left-handed. He held the pack in his
+right, and, in dealing, he was slow and slightly clumsy. The object of
+Bunning-Ford's attention quickly became apparent. Each card as it left
+the pack was passed over the burnished silver of the dealer's memorandum
+pad. It was smartly done, and Lablache was assisted by the fact that the
+piece of metal was inclined towards him. There was no necessity to look
+down deliberately to see the reflection of each card as it passed on its
+way to its recipient, a glance&mdash;just the glance necessary when dealing
+cards&mdash;and the money-lender, by a slight effort of memory, knew every
+hand that was out. Lablache was cheating.</p>
+
+<p>To say that &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was astonished would be wrong. He was not. He
+had long suspected it. The steady run of luck which Lablache had
+persisted in was too phenomenal. It was enough to set the densest
+thinking. Now everything was plain. Standing where he was, Bill had
+almost been able to read the index numerals himself. He gave no sign of
+his discovery. Apparently the matter was of no consequence to him, for
+he merely lit a fresh cigarette and walked towards the door. He turned
+as he was about to pass out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What time shall I tell Jacky to expect you home, John?&quot; he said
+quietly, addressing the old rancher.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked up with a swift, malevolent glance, but he said nothing.
+Old John turned a drawn face to the speaker.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supper, I guess,&quot; he said in a thick voice, husky from long silence.
+&quot;And tell Smith to send me in a bottle of 'white seal' and some
+glasses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right you are.&quot; Then &quot;Lord&quot; Bill passed out. &quot;Poker without whisky is
+bad,&quot; he muttered as he made his way back to the bar, &quot;but poker and
+whisky together can only be the beginning of the end. We'll see. Poor
+old John!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII" />CHAPTER VII - ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was on the stroke of four o'clock when Bunning-Ford left the saloon.
+He had said that he would be at the ranch at four, and usually he liked
+to be punctual. He was late now, however, and made no effort to make up
+time. Instead, he allowed his horse to walk leisurely in the direction
+of the Allandales' house. He wanted time to think before he again met
+Jacky.</p>
+
+<p>He was confronted by a problem which taxed all his wit. It was perhaps a
+fortunate thing that his was not a hasty temperament. He well knew the
+usual method of dealing with men who cheated at cards in those Western
+wilds. Each man carried his own law in his holster. He had realized
+instantly that Lablache was not a case for the usual treatment. Pistol
+law would have defeated its own ends. Such means would not recover the
+terrible losses of &quot;Poker&quot; John, neither would he recover thereby his
+own lost property. No, he congratulated himself upon the restraint he
+had exercised when he had checked his natural impulse to expose the
+money-lender. Now, however, the case looked more complicated, and, for
+the moment, he could see no possible means of solving the difficulty.
+Lablache must be made to disgorge&mdash;but how? John Allandale must be
+stopped playing and further contributing to Lablache's ill-gotten gains.
+Again&mdash;but how?</p>
+
+<p>Bill was roused out of his usual apathetic indifference. The moment had
+arrived when he must set aside the old indolent carelessness. He was
+stirred to the core. A duty had been suddenly forced upon him. A duty to
+himself and also a duty to those he loved. Lablache had consistently
+robbed him, and also the uncle of the girl he loved. Now, how to
+restore that property and prevent the villain's further depredations?</p>
+
+<p>Again and again he asked himself the question as he allowed his horse to
+mouche, with slovenly step, over the sodden prairie; but no answer
+presented itself. His thin, eagle face was puckered with perplexity. The
+sleepy eyes gleamed vengefully from between his half-closed eyelids as
+he gazed across the sunlit prairie. His aquiline nose, always bearing a
+resemblance to an eagle's beak, was rendered even more like that
+aristocratic proboscis by reason of the down-drawn tip, consequent upon
+the odd pursing of his tightly-compressed lips. For the moment &quot;Lord&quot;
+Bill was at a loss. And, oddly enough, he began to wonder if, after all,
+silence had been his best course.</p>
+
+<p>He was still struggling in the direst perplexity when he drew up at the
+veranda of the ranch. Dismounting, he hitched his picket rope to the
+tying-post and entered the sitting-room by the open French window. Tea
+was set upon the table and Jacky was seated before the stove.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Late, Bill, late! Guess that 'plug' of yours is a rapid beast, judging
+by the pace you came up the hill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For the moment Bunning-Ford's face had resumed its wonted air of lazy
+good-nature.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Glad you took the trouble to watch for me, Jacky,&quot; he retorted quickly,
+with an attempt at his usual lightness of manner. &quot;I appreciate the
+honor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing of the sort. I was looking for uncle. The mail brought a letter
+from Calford. Dawson, the cattle buyer of the Western Railway Company,
+wants to see him. The Home Government are buying largely. He is
+commissioned to purchase 30,000 head of prime beeves. Come along, tea's
+ready.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill seated himself at the table and Jacky poured out the tea. She was
+dressed for the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where is Dawson now?&quot; asked Bill.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Calford. Guess he'll wait right there for uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a look of relief passed across the man's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is Wednesday. At six o'clock the mail-cart goes back to town. Send
+some one down to the <i>saloon</i> at once, and John will be able to go in
+to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As Bill spoke his eyes encountered a direct and steady glance from the
+girl. There was much meaning in that mute exchange. For answer Jacky
+rose and rang a bell sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send a hand down to the settlement to find my uncle. Ask him to come up
+at once. There is an important letter awaiting him,&quot; she said, to the
+old servant who answered the summons.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, what's up?&quot; she went on, when the retainer had departed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lots. Look here, Jacky, we mustn't be long over tea. We must both be
+out of the house when your uncle returns. He may not want to go into
+town to-night. Anyway, I don't want to give him the chance of asking any
+questions until we have had a long talk. He's losing to Lablache again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! I don't want anything to eat. Whenever you are ready, Bill, I am.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford drank his tea and rose from the table. The girl followed
+his example.</p>
+
+<p>There was something very strong and resolute in the brisk,
+ready-for-emergency ways of this girl. There was nothing of the
+ultra-feminine dependence and weakness of her sex about her. And yet her
+hardiness detracted in no way from her womanly charm; rather was that
+complex abstract enhanced by her wonderful self-reliance. There are
+those who decry independence in women, but surely only such must come
+from those whose nature is largely composed of hectoring selfishness.
+There was a resolute set of the mouth as Jacky sent word to the stables
+to have her horse brought round. She asked no questions of her
+companion, as, waiting for compliance with her orders, she drew on her
+stout buckskin gauntlets. She understood this man well enough to be
+aware that his suggestion was based upon necessity. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill rarely
+interfered with anything or anybody, but when such an occasion arose his
+words carried a deal of weight with those who knew him.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later and they were both riding slowly down the avenue of
+pines leading from the house. The direction in which they were moving
+was away from the settlement, down towards where the great level flat of
+the muskeg began. At the end of the avenue they turned directly to the
+southeast, leaving the township behind them. The prairie was soft and
+springy. There was still a keen touch of winter in the fresh spring air.
+The afternoon sun was shining coldly athwart the direction of their
+route.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky led the way, and, as they drew clear of the bush, and the house
+and settlement were hidden from view behind them, she urged her horse
+into a good swinging lope. Thus they progressed in silence. The
+far-reaching deadly mire on their right, looking innocent enough in the
+shadow of the snow-clad peaks beyond, the ranch well behind them in the
+hollow of the Foss River Valley, whilst, on their left, the mighty
+prairie rolled away upwards to the higher level of the surrounding
+country.</p>
+
+<p>In this way they covered nearly a mile, then the girl drew up beside a
+small clump of weedy bush.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you ready for the plunge, Bill?&quot; she asked, as her companion drew
+up beside her. &quot;The path's not more than four feet wide. Does your
+'plug' shy any?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's all right. You lead right on. Where you can travel I've a notion
+I'm not likely to funk. But I don't see the path.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess you don't. Never did nature keep her secret better than in the
+setting out of this one road across her woeful man-trap. You can't see
+the path, but I guess it's an open book to me, and its pages ain't
+Hebrew either. Say, Bill, there's been many a good prairie man looking
+for this path, but&quot;&mdash;with a slight accent of exultation&mdash;&quot;they've never
+found it. Come on. Old Nigger knows it; many a time has he trodden its
+soft and shaking surface. Good old horse!&quot; and she patted the black neck
+of her charger as she turned his head towards the distant hills and
+urged him forward with a &quot;chirrup.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Far across the muskeg the distant peaks of the mountain range glistened
+in the afternoon sun like diamond-studded sugar loaves. So high were the
+clouds that every portion of the mighty summits was clearly outlined.
+The great ramparts of the prairie are a magnificent sight on a clear
+day. Flat and smooth as any billiard-table stretched this silent,
+mysterious muskeg, already green and fair to the eye, an alluring
+pasture to the unwary. An experienced eye might have judged it too
+green&mdash;too alluring. Could a more perfect trap be devised by evil human
+ingenuity than this? Think for one instant of a bottomless pit of liquid
+soil, absorbing in its peculiar density. Think of all the horrors of a
+quicksand, which, embracing, sucks down into its cruel bosom the
+despairing victim of its insatiable greed. Think of a thin, solid crust,
+spread like icing upon a cake and concealing the soft, spongy matter
+beneath, covering every portion of the cruel plain; a crust which yields
+a crop of luxurious, enticing grass of the most perfect emerald hue; a
+crust firm in itself and dry looking, and yet not strong enough to bear
+the weight of a good-sized terrier. And what imagination can possibly
+conceive a more cruel&mdash;more perfect trap for man or beast? Woe to the
+creature which trusts its weight upon that treacherous crust. For one
+fleeting instant it will sway beneath the tread, then, in the flash of a
+thought, it will break, and once the surface gives no human power can
+save the victim. Down, down into the depths must the poor wretch be
+plunged, with scarce time to offer a prayer to God for the poor soul
+which so swiftly passes to its doom. Such is the muskeg; and surely more
+terrible is it than is that horror of the navigator&mdash;the quicksands.</p>
+
+<p>The girl led the way without as much as a passing thought for the
+dangers which surrounded her. Truly had her companion said &quot;I don't see
+the path,&quot; for no path was to be seen. But Jacky had learned her lesson
+well&mdash;and learned it from one who read the prairie as the Bedouin reads
+the desert. The path was there and with a wondrous assurance she
+followed its course.</p>
+
+<p>The travelers moved silently along. No word was spoken; each was wrapped
+in thought. Now and again a stray prairie chicken would fly up from
+their path with a whirr, and speed across the mire, calling to its mate
+as it went. The drowsy chirrup of frogs went on unceasingly around, and
+already the ubiquitous mosquito was on the prowl for human gore.</p>
+
+<p>The upstanding horses now walked with down-drooped heads, with sniffing
+noses low towards the ground, ears cocked, and with alert, careful
+tread, as if fully alive to the danger of their perilous road. The
+silence of that ride teemed with a thrill of danger. Half an hour passed
+and then the girl gathered up her reins and urged her willing horse into
+a canter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come on, Bill, the path is more solid now, and wider. The worst part is
+on the far side,&quot; she called back over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Her companion followed her unquestioningly.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was already dipping towards the distant peaks and already a
+shadowy haze was rising upon the eastern prairie. The chill of winter
+grew keener as the sun slowly sank.</p>
+
+<p>Two-thirds of the journey were covered and Jacky, holding up a warning
+hand, drew up her horse. Her companion came to a stand beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The path divides in three here,&quot; said the girl, glancing keenly down at
+the fresh green grass. &quot;Two of the branches are blind and end abruptly
+further on. Guess we must avoid 'em,&quot; she went on shortly, &quot;unless we
+are anxious to punctuate our earthly career. This is the one we must
+take,&quot; turning her horse to the left path. &quot;Keep your eye peeled and
+stick to Nigger's footprints.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man did as he was bid, marvelling the while at the strange knowledge
+of his companion. He had no fear; he only wondered. The trim, graceful
+figure on the horse ahead of him occupied all his thoughts. He watched
+her as, with quiet assurance she guided her horse. He had known Jacky
+for years. He had watched her grow to womanhood, but although her
+up-bringing must of necessity have taught her an independence and
+courage given to few women, he had never dreamt of the strength of the
+sturdy nature she was now displaying. Again his thoughts went to the
+tales of the gossips of the settlement, and the strange figure of the
+daring cattle-thief loomed up over his mental horizon. He rode, and as
+he rode he wondered. The end Of this journey would be a fitting place
+for the explanations which must take place between them.</p>
+
+<p>At length the shaking path came to an end and the mire was crossed. A
+signal from the girl brought her companion to her side.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have crossed it,&quot; she said, glancing up at the sun, and indicating
+the muskeg with a backward jerk of her head. &quot;Now for the horse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What about your promise to tell me about Peter Retief?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess being the narrator you must let me take my time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled up into her companion's eagle face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The horse is a mile or so further up towards the foothills. Come
+along.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They galloped side by side over the moist, springy grass&mdash;moist with the
+recently-melted snow. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was content to wait her pleasure.
+Suddenly the man brought his horse up with a severe &quot;yank.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's up?&quot; The girl's beautiful eyes were fixed upon the ground with a
+peculiar instinct. Bill pointed to the ground on the side furthest from
+his companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky gazed at the spot indicated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The tracks of the horse,&quot; she said sharply.</p>
+
+<p>She was on the ground in an instant and inspecting the hoof-prints
+eagerly, with that careful study acquired by experience.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; said the other, as she turned back to her horse.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Recent.&quot; Then in an impressive tone which her companion failed to
+understand, &quot;That horse has been shod. The shoes are off&mdash;all except a
+tiny bit on his off fore. We must track it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They now separated and rode keeping the hoof-prints between them. The
+marks were quite fresh and so plain in the soft ground that they were
+able to ride at a good pace. The clear-cut indentations led away from
+the mire up the gently-sloping ground. Suddenly they struck upon a path
+that was little more than a cattle-track, and instantly became mingled
+with other hoof-marks, older and going both ways. Hitherto the girl had
+ridden with her eyes closely watching the tracks, but now she suddenly
+raised her sweet, weather-tanned face to her companion, and, with a
+light of the wildest excitement in her eyes, she pointed along the path
+and set her horse at a gallop.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come on! I know,&quot; she cried, &quot;right on into the hills.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill followed willingly enough, but he failed to understand his
+companion's excitement. After all they were merely bent upon &quot;roping&quot; a
+stray horse. The girl galloped on at breakneck speed; the heavy black
+ringlets of hair were swept like an outspread fan from under the broad
+brim of her Stetson hat, her buckskin bodice ballooning in the wind as
+rider and horse charged along, utterly indifferent to the nature of the
+country they were traveling&mdash;indifferent to everything except the mad
+pursuit of an unseen quarry. Now they were on the summit of some
+eminence whence they could see for miles the confusion of hills, like
+innumerable bee-hives set close together upon an endless plain; now
+down, tearing through a deep hollow, and racing towards another abrupt
+ascent. With every hill passed the country became less green and more
+and more rugged. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill struggled hard to keep the girl in view as
+she raced on&mdash;on through the labyrinth of seemingly endless hillocks.
+But at last he drew up on the summit of a high cone-like rise and
+realized that he had lost her.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he gazed around with that peculiar, all-observing keenness
+which is given to those whose lives are spent in countries where human
+habitation is sparse&mdash;where the work of man is lost in the immensity of
+Nature's effort. He could see no sign of the girl. And yet he knew she
+could not be far away. His instincts told him to search for her horse
+tracks. He was sure she had passed that way. While yet he was thinking,
+she suddenly reappeared over the brow of a further hill. She halted at
+the summit, and, seeing him, waved a summons. Her gesticulations were
+excited and he hastened to obey. Down into the intervening valley his
+horse plunged with headlong recklessness. At the bottom there was a
+hard, beaten track. Almost unconsciously he allowed his beast to adopt
+it. It wound round and upwards, at the base of the hill on which Jacky
+was waiting for him. He passed the bend, then, with a desperate,
+backward heave of the body, he &quot;yanked&quot; his horse short up, throwing the
+eager animal on to its haunches.</p>
+
+<p>He had pulled up on what, at first appeared to be the brink of a
+precipice, and what in reality was a declivity, down which only the slow
+and sure foot of a steer or broncho might safely tread. He sat aghast at
+his narrow escape. Then, turning at the sound of a voice behind him, he
+found that Jacky had come down from the hill above.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See, Bill,&quot; she cried, as she drew abreast of his hard-breathing horse,
+&quot;there he is! Down there, peacefully, grazing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her excitement was intense, and the hand with which she pointed shook
+like an aspen. Her agitation was incomprehensible to the man. He looked
+down. Hitherto he had seen little beyond the brink at which he had come
+to such a sudden stand. But now, as he gazed down, he beheld a deep
+dark-shadowed valley, far-reaching and sombre. From their present
+position its full extent was beyond the range of vision, but sufficient
+was to be seen to realize that here was one of those vast hiding-places
+only to be found in lands where Nature's fanciful mood has induced the
+mighty upheaval of the world's greatest mountain ranges. On the far side
+of the deep, sombre vale a towering craig rose wall-like, sheer up,
+overshadowing the soft, green pasture deep down at the bottom of the
+yawning gulch. Dense patches of dark, relentless pinewoods lined its
+base, and, over all, in spite of the broad daylight, a peculiar shadow,
+as of evening, added mystery to the haunting view.</p>
+
+<p>It was some seconds before the man was able to distinguish the tiny
+object which had roused the girl to such unaccountable excitement. When
+he did, however, he beheld a golden chestnut horse quietly grazing as it
+made its way leisurely towards the ribbon-like stream which flowed in
+the bosom of the mysterious valley. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's voice was quite
+emotionless when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, a chestnut!&quot; he said quietly. &quot;Well, our quest is vain. He is
+beyond our reach.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the girl looked at him in indignant surprise. Then her mood
+changed and she nearly laughed outright. She had forgotten that this man
+as yet knew nothing of what had all along been in her thoughts. As yet
+he knew nothing of the secret of this hollow. To her it meant a world of
+recollection&mdash;a world of stirring adventure and awful hazard. When first
+she had seen that horse, grazing within sight of her uncle's house, her
+interest had been aroused&mdash;suspicions had been sent teeming through her
+brain. Her thoughts had flown to the man whom she had once known, and
+who was now dead. She had believed his horse had died with him. And now
+the strange apparition had yielded up its secret. The beast had been
+traced to the old, familiar haunt, and what had been only suspicion had
+suddenly become a startling reality.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, I forgot,&quot; she replied, &quot;you don't understand. That is Golden
+Eagle. Can't you see, he has the fragments of his saddle still tied
+round his body. To think of it&mdash;and after two years.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her companion still seemed dense.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Golden Eagle?&quot; he repeated questioningly. &quot;Golden Eagle?&quot; The name
+seemed familiar but he failed to comprehend.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; the girl broke out impatiently. &quot;Golden Eagle&mdash;Peter
+Retief's horse. The grandest beast that ever stepped the prairie. See,
+he is keeping watch over his master's old
+hiding-place&mdash;faithful&mdash;faithful to the memory of the dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this is&mdash;is the haunt of Peter Retief,&quot; Bill exclaimed, his
+interest centering chiefly upon the yawning valley before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;follow me closely, and we'll get right along down. Say, Bill, we
+must round up that animal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>For a fleeting space the man looked dubious, then, with lips pursed, and
+a quiet look of resolution in his sleepy eyes, he followed in his
+companion's wake. The grandeur&mdash;the solitude&mdash;the mystery and
+associations, conveyed by the girl's words, of the place were upon him.
+These things had set him thinking.</p>
+
+<p>The tortuous course of that perilous descent occupied their full
+attention, but, at length, they reached the valley in safety. Now,
+indeed, was a wonderful scene disclosed. Far as the eye could reach the
+great hollow extended. Deep and narrow; deep in the heart of the hills
+which towered upon either side to heights, for the most part,
+inaccessible, precipitous. It was a wondrous gulch, hidden and
+unsuspected in the foothills, and protected by those amazing wilds, in
+which the ignorant or unwary must infallibly be lost. It was a perfect
+pasture, a perfect hiding-place, watered by a broad running stream;
+sheltered from all cold and storm. No wonder then that the celebrated
+outlaw, Peter Retief, had chosen it for his haunt and the harborage of
+his ill-gotten stock.</p>
+
+<p>With characteristic method the two set about &quot;roping&quot; the magnificent
+crested horse they had come to capture. They soon found that he was
+wild&mdash;timid as a hare. Their task looked as though it would be one of
+some difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>At first Golden Eagle raced recklessly from point to point. And so long
+as this lasted his would-be captors could do little but endeavor to
+&quot;head&quot; him from one to the other, in the hope of getting him within
+range of the rope. Then he seemed suddenly to change his mind, and, with
+a quick double, gallop towards the side of the great chasm. A cry of
+delight escaped the girl as she saw this. The horse was making for the
+mouth of a small cavern which had been boarded over, and, judging by the
+door and window in the woodwork, had evidently been used as a dwelling
+or a stable. It was the same instinct which led him to this place that
+had caused the horse to remain for two years the solitary tenant of the
+valley. The girl understood, and drew her companion's attention. The
+capture at once became easy. Keeping clear of the cave they cautiously
+herded their quarry towards it. Golden Eagle was docile enough until he
+reached the, to him, familiar door. Then, when he found that his
+pursuers still continued to press in upon him, he took alarm, and,
+throwing up his head, with a wild, defiant snort he made a bolt for the
+open.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly two lariats whirled through the air towards the crested neck.
+One missed its mark, but the other fell, true as a gun-shot over the
+small, thoroughbred head. It was Jacky's rope which had found its mark.
+A hitch round the horn of her saddle, and her horse threw himself back
+with her forefeet braced, and faced the captive. Then the rope tightened
+with a jerk which taxed its rawhide strands to their utmost. Instantly
+Golden Eagle, after two years' freedom, stood still; he knew that once
+more he must return to captivity.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII" />CHAPTER VIII - TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW</h2>
+
+
+<p>Jacky held her treasure fast. The choking grip of the running noose
+quieted Golden Eagle into perfect docility. Bunning-Ford was off his
+horse in a moment. Approaching the primitive dwelling he forced open the
+crazy door. It was a patchwork affair and swung back on a pair of hinges
+which lamented loudly as the accumulation of rust were disturbed. The
+interior was essentially suggestive of the half-breed, and his guess at
+its purpose had been a shrewd one. Part storehouse for forage, part
+bedroom, and part stable, it presented a squalid appearance. The portion
+devoted to stable-room was far in the back; the curious apparatus which
+constituted the bed was placed under the window.</p>
+
+<p>The man propped the door open, and then went to relieve the girl from
+the strain of holding her captive. Seizing the lariat he gripped it
+tightly and proceeded to pass slowly, hand over hand, towards the
+beautiful, wild-eyed chestnut. Golden Eagle seemed to understand, for,
+presently, the tension of the rope relaxed. For a moment the animal
+looked fearfully around and snorted, then, as &quot;Lord&quot; Bill determinedly
+attempted to lead him, he threw himself backward. His rebellion lasted
+but for an instant, for, presently, drooping his proud head as though in
+token of submission, he followed his captor quietly into the stable
+which had always been his.</p>
+
+<p>The girl dismounted, and, shortly after, &quot;Lord&quot; Bill rejoined her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; she asked, her questioning eyes turned in the direction of the
+cave.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's snug enough,&quot; Bill replied quietly, glancing at his watch. He
+looked up at the chilly sky, then he seated himself on the edge of a
+boulder which reposed beside the entrance to the stable. &quot;We've just got
+two hours and a half before dark,&quot; he added slowly. &quot;That means an hour
+in which to talk.&quot; Then he quietly prepared to roll a cigarette. &quot;Now,
+Jacky, let's have your yarn first; after that you shall hear mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He leisurely proceeded to pick over the tobacco before rolling it in the
+paper. He was usually particular about his smoke. He centered his
+attention upon the matter now, purposely, so as to give his companion a
+chance to tell her story freely. He anticipated that what she had to
+tell would affect her nearly. But his surmise of the direction in which
+she would be affected proved totally incorrect. Her first words told him
+this.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated only for the fraction of a second, then she plunged into
+her story with a directness which was always hers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is Bad Man's Hollow&mdash;he&mdash;he was my half-brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So the stories of the gossips were not true. Bill gave a comprehensive
+nod, but offered no comment. Her statement appeared to him to need none.
+It explained itself; she was speaking of Peter Retief.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mother was a widow when she married father&mdash;widow with one son. Mother
+was a half-breed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>An impressive silence ensued. For a moment a black shadow swept across
+the valley. It was a dense flight of geese winging their way back to the
+north, as the warm sun melted the snow and furnished them with
+well-watered feeding-grounds. The frogs were chirruping loudly down at
+the edge of the stream which trickled its way ever southwards. She went
+on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mother and Peter settled at Foss River at different times. They never
+hit it off. No one knew that there was any relationship between them up
+at the camp. Mother lived in her own shack. Peter located himself
+elsewhere. Guess it's only five years since I learned these things.
+Peter was fifteen years older than I. I take it they made him 'bad' from
+the start. Poor Peter!&mdash;still, he was my half-brother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She conveyed a world of explanation in her last sentence. There was a
+tender, far-away look in her great, sorrowful eyes as she told her jerky
+story. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill allowed himself a side-long glance in her direction,
+then he turned his eyes towards the south end of the valley and
+something very like a sigh escaped him. She had struck a sympathetic
+chord in his heart. He longed to comfort her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's no use in reckoning up Peter's acts. You know 'em as well as I
+do, Bill. He was slick&mdash;was Peter,&quot; she went on, with an inflection of
+satisfaction. She was returning to a lighter manner as she contemplated
+the cattle-thief's successes. &quot;Cattle, mail-trains, mail-carts&mdash;nothing
+came amiss to him. In his own line Peter was a Jo-dandy.&quot; Her face
+flushed as she proceeded. The half-breed blood in her was stirred in all
+its passionate strength. &quot;But he'd never have slipped the coyote
+sheriffs or the slick red-coats so long as he did without my help. Say,
+Bill,&quot; leaning forward eagerly and peering into his face with her
+beautiful glowing eyes, &quot;for three years I just&mdash;just lived! Poor Peter!
+Guess I'm reckoned kind of handy 'round a bunch of steers. There aren't
+many who can hustle me. You know that. All the boys on the round-up know
+that. And why? Because I learnt the business from Peter&mdash;and Peter
+taught me to shoot quick and straight. Those three years taught me a
+deal, and I take it those things didn't happen for nothing,&quot; with a
+moody introspective gaze. &quot;Those years taught me how to look after
+myself&mdash;and my uncle. Say, Bill, what I'm telling you may sicken you
+some. I can't help that. Peter was my brother and blood's thicker than
+water. I wasn't going to let him be hunted down by a lot of bloodthirsty
+coyotes who were no better than he. I wasn't going to let my mother's
+flesh feed the crows from the end of a lariat. I helped Peter to steer
+clear of the law&mdash;lynch at that&mdash;and if he fell at last, a victim to
+the sucking muck of the muskeg, it was God's judgment and not
+man's&mdash;that's good enough for me. I'd do it all again, I guess, if&mdash;if
+Peter were alive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter had some shooting on the account against him,&quot; said Bill, without
+raising his eyes from the contemplation of his cigarette. The girl
+smiled. The smile hovered for a moment round her mouth and eyes, and
+then passed, leaving her sweet, dark face bathed in the shadow of
+regret. She understood the drift of his remark but in no way resented
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, Bill, I steered clear of that. I'd have shot to save Peter, but it
+never came to that. Whatever shooting Peter did was done on his&mdash;lonely.
+I jibbed at a frolic that meant&mdash;shooting. Peter never let me dirty my
+hands to that extent. Guess I just helped him and kept him posted. If
+I'd had law, they'd have called me accessory after the fact.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill pondered. His lazy eyes were half-closed. He looked
+indifferent but his thoughts were flowing fast. This girl's story had
+given a fillup to a wild plan which had almost unconsciously found place
+in his active brain. Now he raised his eyes to her face and was
+astonished at the setness of its expression. She reminded him of those
+women in history whose deeds had, at various periods, shaken the
+foundations of empires. There was a deep, smouldering fire in her eyes,
+for which only the native blood in her veins could account. Her
+beautiful face was clouded beneath a somber shadow which is so often
+accredited as a presage of tragedy. Surely her expression was one of a
+great, passionate nature, of a soul capable of a wondrous love, or a
+wondrous&mdash;hate. She had seated herself upon the ground with the careless
+abandon of one used to such a resting-place. Her trim riding-boots were
+displayed from beneath the hem of her coarse dungaree habit. Her Stetson
+hat was pushed back on her head, leaving the broad low forehead exposed.
+Her black waving hair streamed about her face, a perfect framing for
+the Van Dyke coloring of her skin. She was very beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>The man shifted his position.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me,&quot; he went on, gazing over towards where a flock of wild ducks
+had suddenly settled upon a reedy swamp, and were noisily revelling in
+the water, &quot;did your uncle know anything about this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not a soul on God's earth knew. Did you ever suspect anything?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not a thing. I was as well posted on the subject of Peter as any one.
+Sometimes I thought it curious that old John's stock and my own were
+never interfered with. But I had no suspicion of the truth. Peter's
+relationship to your mother&mdash;did the Breeds in the settlement know
+anything of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;I alone knew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked curiously into her companion's face. The tone of his
+exclamation startled her. She wondered towards what end his questions
+were leading. His face was inscrutable; she gained no inspiration from
+it. There was a short pause. She wondered anxiously how her story had
+affected him in regard to herself. After all, she was only a woman&mdash;a
+woman of strong affections and deep feelings. Her hardihood, her mannish
+self-reliance, were but outer coverings, the result of the surroundings
+of her daily life. She feared lest he should turn from her in utter
+loathing.</p>
+
+<p>The Hon. Bunning-Ford had no such thoughts, however. Twenty-four hours
+ago her story might have startled him. But now it was different. His was
+as wild and reckless a nature as her own. Law and order were matters
+which he regarded in the light of personal inclinations. He had seen too
+much of the early life on the prairie to be horrified by the part this
+courageous girl had taken in her blood-relative's interests. Under other
+circumstances &quot;Lord&quot; Bill might well have developed into a &quot;bad man&quot;
+himself. As it was, his sympathies were always with those whose daring
+led them into ways of danger and risk of personal safety.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How far does this valley extend?&quot; he asked abruptly, stepping over as
+though to obtain a view of the southern extremity of the mysterious
+hollow.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess we reckoned it 300 miles. Dead straight into the heart of the
+mountains, then out again sharply into the foot-hills thirty miles south
+of the border. It comes to an end in Montana.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Peter disposed of his stock that way&mdash;all by himself?&quot; he asked,
+returning to his seat upon the boulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All by himself,&quot; the girl repeated, again wondering at the drift of his
+questions. &quot;My help only extended as far as this place. Peter used to
+fatten his stock right here and then run them down into Montana. Down
+there no one knew where he came from, and so wonderfully is this place
+hidden that he was never traced. There is only one approach to it, and
+that's across the keg. In winter that can be crossed anywhere, but no
+sane persons would trust themselves in the foothills at that time of
+year. For the rest it can only be crossed by the secret path. This
+valley is a perfectly-hidden natural road for illicit traffic.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wonderful.&quot; The man permitted a smile to spread over his thin, eagle
+face. &quot;Peter's supposed to have made a pile of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I guess Peter sunk a pile of dollars. He hid his bills right here
+in the valley,&quot; Jacky replied, smiling back into the indolent face
+before her. Then her face became serious again. &quot;The secret of its
+hiding-place died with him&mdash;it's buried deep down in the reeking keg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you're sure he died in the 'reeking keg'?&quot; There was a sharp
+intonation in the question. The matter seemed to be of importance in the
+story.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky half started at the eagerness with which the question was put. She
+paused for an instant before replying.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe he died there,&quot; she said at length, like one weighing her
+words well, &quot;but it was never clearly proved. Most people think that he
+simply cleared out of the country. I picked up his hat close beside the
+path, and the crust of the keg had been broken. Yes, I believe he died
+in the muskeg. Had he lived I should have known.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how comes it that Golden Eagle is still alive? Surely Peter would
+never have crossed the keg on foot&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked perplexed for a moment. But her conviction was plainly
+evident.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;he wouldn't have walked. Peter drank some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Once I saved him from taking the wrong track at the point where the
+path forks. He'd been drinking then. Yes,&quot; with a quiet assurance, &quot;I
+think he died in the keg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her companion seemed to have come to the end of his cross-examination.
+He suddenly rose from his seat. The chattering of the ducks in the
+distance caused him to turn his head. Then he turned again to the girl
+before him. The indolence had gone from his eyes. His face was set, and
+the firm pursing of his lips spoke of a determination arrived at. He
+gazed down at the recumbent figure upon the ground. There was something
+in his gaze which made the girl lower her eyes and look far out down the
+valley.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This brother of yours&mdash;he was tall and thin?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Am I right in my recollection of him when I say that he was possessed
+of a dark, dark face, lantern jaws, thin&mdash;and high, prominent
+cheek-bones?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She faced him inquiringly as she answered his eager questions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He quickly turned again in the direction of the noisy water-fowl. Their
+rollicking gambols sounded joyously on the brooding atmosphere of the
+place. The wintry chill in the air was fast ousting the balmy breath of
+spring. It was a warning of the lateness of the hour.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now listen to me,&quot; he went on presently, turning again from the
+contemplation of his weird surroundings. &quot;I lost all that was left to me
+from the wreck of my little ranch this afternoon&mdash;no, not to Lablache,&quot;
+as the girl was about to pronounce the hated name, &quot;but,&quot; with a wintry
+smile, &quot;to another friend of yours, Pedro Mancha. I also discovered,
+this afternoon, the source of Lablache's phenomenal&mdash;luck. He has
+systematically robbed both your uncle and myself&mdash;&quot; He broke off with a
+bitter laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl had sprung to her feet in her agitation. And a rage
+indescribable flamed into her face. The fury there expressed appalled
+him, and he stood for a moment waiting for it to abate. What terrible
+depths had he delved into? The hidden fires of a passionate nature are
+more easily kept under than checked in their blasting career when once
+the restraining will power is removed. For an instant it seemed that she
+must choke. Then she hurled her feelings into one brief, hissing
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;I hate him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And the man realized that he must continue his story.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, we lost our money not fairly, but by&mdash;cheating. I am ruined, and
+your uncle&mdash;&quot; Bill shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My uncle&mdash;God help him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do not know the full extent of his losses, Jacky&mdash;except that they
+have probably trebled mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I know to what extent the hound has robbed him,&quot; Jacky answered in
+a tone of such bitter hatred as to cause her companion to glance
+uneasily at the passionate young face before him. &quot;I know, only too
+well. And right thoroughly has Lablache done his work. Say, Bill, do you
+know that that skunk holds mortgages on our ranch for two hundred
+thousand dollars? And every bill of it is for poker. For twenty years,
+right through, he has steadily sucked the old man's blood. Slick? Say a
+six-year-old steer don't know more about a branding-iron than does
+Verner Lablache about his business. For every dollar uncle's lost he's
+made him sign a mortgage. Every bit of paper has the old man had to
+redeem in that way. What he's done lately&mdash;I mean uncle&mdash;I can't say.
+But Lablache held those mortgages nearly a year ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whew&mdash;&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill whistled under his breath. &quot;Gee-whittaker. It's
+worse than I thought. 'Poker' John's losses during the last winter, to
+my knowledge, must have amounted to nearly six figures&mdash;the devil!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ruin, ruin, ruin!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl for a moment allowed womanly feeling to overcome her, for, as
+her companion added his last item to the vast sum which she had quoted,
+she saw, in all its horrible nakedness, the truth of her uncle's
+position. Then she suddenly forced back the tears which had struggled
+into her eyes, and, with indomitable courage, faced the catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But can't we fight him&mdash;can't we give him&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Law? I'm afraid not,&quot; Bill interrupted. &quot;Once a mortgage is signed the
+debt is no longer a gambling debt. Law is of no use to us, especially
+here on the prairie. There is only one law which can save us. Lablache
+must disgorge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes! For every dollar he has stolen let him pay ten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The passionate fire in her eyes burned more steadily now. It was the
+fire which is unquenchable&mdash;the fire of a lasting hate, vengeful,
+terrible. Then her tone dropped to a contemplative soliloquy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how?&quot; she murmured, looking away towards the stream in the heart of
+the valley, as though in search of inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford smiled as he heard the half-whispered question. But his
+smile was not pleasant to look upon. All the latent recklessness which
+might have made of him a good soldier or a great scoundrel was roused in
+him. He was passing the boundary which divides the old Adam, which is in
+every man, from the veneer of early training. He was
+mutely&mdash;unconsciously&mdash;calling to his aid the savage instincts which the
+best of men are not without. His face expressed something of what was
+passing within his active brain, and the girl before him, as she turned
+and watched the working features, usually so placid&mdash;indifferent, knew
+that she was to see a side of his character always suspected by her but
+never before made apparent. His thoughts at last found vent in words of
+almost painful intensity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How?&quot; he said, repeating the question as though it had been addressed
+to himself. &quot;He shall pay&mdash;pay! Everlastingly pay! So long as I have
+life&mdash;and liberty, he shall pay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then as if anticipating a request for explanation he told her the means
+by which Lablache had consistently cheated. The girl listened,
+speechless with amazement. She hung upon his every word. At the
+conclusion of his story she put an abrupt question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you gave no sign? He doesn't suspect that you know?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He suspects nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good. You are real smart, Bill. Yes, shooting's no good. This is no
+case for shooting. What do you propose? I see you mean business.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man was still smiling but his smile had suddenly changed to one of
+kindly humor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;First of all Jacky,&quot; he said, taking a step towards her, &quot;I can do
+nothing without your help. I propose that you share this task with me.
+No, no, I don't mean in that way,&quot; as she commenced to assure him of her
+assistance. &quot;What I mean is that&mdash;that I love you, dear. I want you to
+give me the right to protect&mdash;your uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He finished up with his hands stretched out towards her. Golden Eagle
+stirred in his stable, and the two heard him whinny as if in approval.
+Then as the girl made no answer Bill went on: &quot;Jacky, I am a ruined man.
+I have nothing, but I love you better than life itself. We now have a
+common purpose in life. Let us work together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His voice sank to a tender whisper. He loved this motherless girl who
+was fighting the battle of life single-handed against overwhelming
+odds, with all the strength of his nature. He had loved her ever since
+she had reached woman's estate. In asking for a return of his affections
+now he fully realized the cruelty of his course. He knew that the
+future&mdash;his future&mdash;was to be given up to the pursuit of a terrible
+revenge. And he knew that, in linking herself with him, she would
+perforce be dragged into whatever wrong-doing his contemplated revenge
+might lead him. And yet he dared not pause. It all seemed so plain&mdash;so
+natural&mdash;that they should journey through the crooked, paths of the
+future together. Was she not equally determined upon a terrible revenge?</p>
+
+<p>He waited in patience for his answer. Suddenly she looked up into his
+face and gently placed her hands in his. Her answer came with simple
+directness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you really, Bill? I am glad&mdash;yes, glad right through. I love you,
+too. Say, you're sure you don't think badly of me because&mdash;because I'm
+Peter's sister?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a smiling, half-tearful look in her eyes&mdash;those expressive
+eyes which, but a moment before, had burnt with a vengeful fire&mdash;as she
+asked the question. After all her nature was wondrously simple.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why should I, dear?&quot; he replied, bending and kissing the gauntleted
+hands which rested so lovingly in his. &quot;My life has scarcely been a
+Garden of Eden before the Fall. And I don't suppose my future, even
+should I escape the laws of man, is likely to be most creditable. Your
+past is your own&mdash;I have no right nor wish to criticise. Henceforth we
+are united in a common cause. Our hand is turned against one whose power
+in this part of the country is almost absolute. When we have wrested his
+property from him, to the uttermost farthing, we will cry quits&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And on the day that sees Lablache's downfall, Bill, I will become your
+wife.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. Then Bill drew her towards him and they sealed the
+compact with one long embrace. They were roused to the matters of the
+moment by another whinny from Golden Eagle, who was chafing at his
+forced imprisonment.</p>
+
+<p>The two stood back from one another, hand in hand, and smiled as they
+listened to the tuneful plaint. Then the man unfolded a wonderful plan
+to this girl whom he loved. Her willing ears drank in the details like
+one whose heart is set with a great purpose. They also talked of their
+love in their own practical way. There was little display of sentiment.
+They understood without that. Their future was not alluring, unless
+something of the man's strange plan appealed to the wild nature of the
+prairie which, by association, has somehow become affiliated with
+theirs. In that quiet, evening-lit valley these two people arranged to
+set aside the laws of man and deal out justice as they understood it. An
+eye for an eye&mdash;a tooth for a tooth; fortune favoring, a cent, per cent,
+interest in each case. The laws of the prairie, in those days always
+uncertain, were more often governed by human passions than the calm
+equity of unbiased jurymen. And who shall say that their idea of justice
+was wrong? Two &quot;wrongs,&quot; it has been said, do not make one &quot;right.&quot; But
+surely it is not a human policy when smote upon one cheek to turn the
+other for a similar chastisement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then we leave Golden Eagle where he is,&quot; said Jacky, as she remounted
+her horse and they prepared to return home.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. I will see to him,&quot; Bill replied, urging his horse into a canter
+towards the winding ascent which was to take them home.</p>
+
+<p>The ducks frolicking in their watery playground chattered and flapped
+their heavy wings. The frogs in their reedy beds croaked and chirruped
+without ceasing. And who shall say how much they had heard, or had seen,
+or knew of that compact sealed in Bad Man's Hollow?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX" />CHAPTER IX - LABLACHE'S &quot;COUP&quot;</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lablache was seated in a comfortable basket chair in his little back
+office. He preferred a basket chair&mdash;he knew its value. He had tried
+other chairs of a less yielding nature, but they were useless to support
+his weight; he had broken too many, and they were expensive&mdash;there is
+nothing more durable than a strong basket chair. Lablache appreciated
+strength combined with durability, especially when the initial outlay
+was reduced to a minimum.</p>
+
+<p>His slippered feet were posted on the lower part of the self-feeding
+stove and he gazed down, deep in thought, at the lurid glow of the fire
+shining through the mica sides of the firebox.</p>
+
+<p>A clock was ticking away with that peculiar, vibrating aggressiveness
+which characterizes the cheap American &quot;alarm.&quot; The bare wood of the
+desk aggravated the sound, and, in the stillness of the little room, the
+noise pounded exasperatingly on the ear-drums. From time to time he
+turned his great head, and his lashless eyes peered over at the paper
+dial of the clock. Once or twice he stirred with a suggestion of
+impatience. At times his heavy breathing became louder and shorter, and
+he seemed about to give expression to some irritable thought.</p>
+
+<p>At last his bulk heaved and he removed his feet from the stove. Then he
+slowly raised himself from the depths of the yielding chair. His
+slippered feet shuffled over the floor as he moved towards the window.
+The blind was down, but he drew it aside and wiped the steam from the
+glass pane with his soft, fat hand. The night was black&mdash;he could see
+nothing of the outside world. It was nearly an hour since he had left
+the saloon where he had been playing poker with John Allandale. He
+appeared to be waiting for some one, and he wanted to go to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Once more he returned to his complaining chair and lowered himself into
+it. The minutes slipped by. Lablache did not want to smoke; he felt that
+he must do something to soothe his impatience, so he chewed at the
+quicks of his finger-nails.</p>
+
+<p>Presently there came a tap at the window. The money-lender ponderously
+rose, and, cautiously opening the door, admitted the dark, unkempt form
+of Pedro Mancha. There was no greeting; neither spoke until Lablache had
+again secured the door. Then the money-lender turned his fishy eyes and
+mask-like face to the newcomer. He did not suggest that his visitor
+should sit down. He merely looked with his cold, cruel eyes, and spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&mdash;been drinking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The latter part of his remark was an assertion. He knew the Mexican
+well. The fellow had an expressive countenance, unlike most of his race,
+and the least sign of drink was painfully apparent upon it. The man was
+not drunk but his wild eyes testified to his recent libations.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you've hit it right thar,&quot; he retorted indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>It was noticeable that this man had adopted the high-pitched, keen tone
+and pronounced accent of the typical &quot;South-Westerner.&quot; In truth he was
+a border Mexican; a type of man closely allied to the &quot;greaser.&quot; He was
+a perfect scoundrel, who had doubtless departed from his native land for
+the benefit of that fair but swarming hornet's nest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's a pity when you have business on hand you can't leave that 'stuff'
+alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache made no effort to conceal his contempt. He even allowed his
+mask-like face to emphasize his words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're almighty pertickler, mister. You ask for dirty work to be done,
+an' when that dirty work's done, gorl-darn-it you croak like a
+flannel-mouthed temperance lecturer. Guess I came hyar to talk straight
+biz. Jest leave the temperance track, an' hit the main trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Pedro's face was not pretty to look upon. The ring of white round the
+pupils of his eyes gave an impression of insanity or animal ferocity.
+The latter was his chief characteristic. His face was thin and scored
+with scars, mainly long and narrow. These, in a measure, testified to
+his past. His mouth, half hidden beneath a straggling mustache, was his
+worst feature. One can only liken it to a blubber-lipped gash, lined
+inside with two rows of yellow fangs, all in a more or less bad state of
+decay.</p>
+
+<p>The two men eyed one another steadily for a moment. Lablache could in no
+way terrorize this desperado. Like all his kind this man was ready to
+sell his services to any master, provided the forthcoming price of such
+services was sufficiently exorbitant. He was equally ready to play his
+employer up should any one else offer a higher price. But Lablache, when
+dealing with such men, took no chances. He rarely employed this sort of
+man, preferring to do his own dirty work, but when he did, he knew it
+was policy to be liberal. Pedro served him well as a rule, consequently
+the Mexican was enabled to ruffle it with the best in the settlement,
+whilst people wondered where he got his money from. Somehow they never
+thought of Lablache being the source of this man's means; the
+money-lender was not fond of parting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are right, I am particular. When I pay for work to be done I don't
+want gassing over a bar. I know what you are when the whisky is in you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache stood with his great back to the fire watching his man from
+beneath his heavy lids. Bad as he was himself the presence of this man
+filled him with loathing. Possibly deep down, somewhere in that organ he
+was pleased to consider his heart, he had a faint glimmer of respect for
+an honest man. The Mexican laughed harshly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess all you know of me, mister, wouldn't make a pile o' literature.
+But say, what's the game to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was gnawing his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How much did you take from the Honorable?&quot; he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You told me to lift his boodle. Time was short&mdash;he wouldn't play for
+long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm aware of that. How much?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's tone was abrupt and peremptory. Mancha was trying to estimate
+what he should be paid for his work.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar, I guess we ain't struck no deal yet. What do you propose to
+pay me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Mexican was sharp but he was no match for his employer. He fancied
+he saw a good deal over this night's work.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You played on paper, I know,&quot; said the money-lender, quietly. He was
+quite unmoved by the other's display of cunning. It pleased him rather
+than otherwise. He knew he held all the cards in his hands&mdash;he generally
+did in dealing with men of this stamp. &quot;To you, the amounts he lost are
+not worth the paper they are written on. You could never realize them.
+He couldn't meet 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache leisurely took a pinch of snuff from his snuff-box. He coughed
+and sneezed voluminously. His indifferent coolness, his air of
+patronage, aggravated the Mexican while it alarmed him. The deal he
+anticipated began to assume lesser proportions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which means, I take it, you've a notion you'd like the feel of those
+same papers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mancha had come to drive a bargain. He was aware that the I.O.U.'s he
+held would take some time to realize on, in the proper quarter, but, at
+the same time, he was quite aware of the fact that Bunning-Ford would
+ultimately meet them.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged his shoulders with apparent indifference&mdash;he meant to
+have them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you want for the debts? I am prepared to buy&mdash;at a reasonable
+figure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Mexican propped himself comfortably upon the corner of the desk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, guess we're talkin' biz, now. His 'lordship' is due to ante up the
+trifle of seven thousand dollars&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The fellow was rummaging in an inside pocket for the slips of paper. His
+eyes never left his companion's face. The amount startled Lablache, but
+he did not move a muscle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You did your work well, Pedro,&quot; he said, allowing himself, for the
+first time in this conversation, to recognize that the Mexican had a
+name. He warmed towards a man who was capable of doing another down for
+such a sum in such a short space of time. &quot;I'll treat you well. Two
+thousand spot cash, and you hand over the I.O.U.'s. What say? Is it a
+go?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Be damned to you. Two thousand for a certain seven? Not me. Say, what
+d'ye do with the skin when you eat a bananny? Sole your boots with it?
+Gee-whiz! You do fling your bills around.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Mexican laughed derisively as he jammed the papers back into his
+pocket. But he knew that he would have to sell at the other's price.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache moved heavily towards his desk. Selecting a book he opened it
+at a certain page.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You can keep them if you like. But you may as well understand your
+position. What's Bunning-Ford worth? What's his ranch worth?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The other suggested a figure much below the real value.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's worth more than that. Fifty thousand if it's worth a cent,&quot;
+Lablache said expansively. &quot;I don't want to do you, my friend, but as
+you said we're talking business now. Here is his account with me, you
+see,&quot; pointing to the entries. &quot;I hold thirty-five thousand on first
+mortgage and twenty thousand on bill of sale. In all fifty-five
+thousand, and his interest twelve months in arrears. Now, you refuse to
+part with those papers at my price, and I'll sell him up. You will then
+get not one cent of your money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender permitted himself to smile a grim, cold smile. He had
+been careful to make no mention of Bunning-Ford's further assets. He had
+quite forgotten to speak of a certain band of cattle which he knew his
+intended victim to possess. It was a well-known thing that Lablache knew
+more of the financial affairs of the people of the settlement than any
+one else; doubtless the Mexican thought only of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's ranch.
+Mancha shifted his position uneasily. But there was a cunning look on
+his face as he retorted swiftly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're a'mighty hasty to lay your hands on his reckoning. How's it that
+you're ready to part two thou' for 'em?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence as the two men eyed each other. It seemed
+as if each were endeavoring to fathom the other's thoughts. Then the
+money-lender spoke, and his voice conveyed a concentration of hate that
+bit upon the air with an incisiveness which startled his companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I intend to crush him as I would a rattlesnake. Because I wish
+to ruin him so that he will be left in my debt. So that I can hound him
+from this place by holding that debt over his head. It is worth two
+thousand to me to possess that power. Now, will you part?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This explanation appealed to the worst side of the Mexican's nature.
+This hatred was after his own heart. Lablache was aware that such would
+be the case. That is why he made it. He was accustomed to play upon the
+feelings of people with whom he dealt&mdash;as well as their pocket. Pedro
+Mancha grinned complacently. He thought he understood his employer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hand over the bills. Guess I'll part. The price is slim, but it's not a
+bad deal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache oozed over to the safe. He opened it, keeping one heavy eye
+upon his companion. He took no chances&mdash;he trusted no one, especially
+Pedro Mancha. Presently he returned with a roll of notes. It contained
+the exact amount. The Mexican watched him hungrily as he counted out the
+green-backed bills. His lips moistened beneath his mustache&mdash;his eyes
+looked wilder than ever. Lablache understood his customer thoroughly. A
+loaded revolver was in his own coat pocket. It is probable that the
+brown-faced desperado knew this.</p>
+
+<p>At last the money-lender held out the money. He held out both hands, one
+to give and the other to receive. Pedro passed him the I.O.U.'s and took
+the bills. One swift glance assured Lablache that the coveted papers
+were all there. Then he pointed to the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Our transaction is over. Go!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He had had enough of his companion. He had no hesitation in thus
+peremptorily dismissing him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're in a pesky hurry to get rid of me. See hyar, pard, you'd best be
+civil. Your dealin's ain't a sight cleaner than mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm waiting.&quot; Lablache's tone was coldly commanding. His lashless eyes
+gazed steadily into the other's face. Something the Mexican saw in them
+impelled him towards the door. He moved backwards, keeping his face
+turned towards the money-lender. At this moment Lablache was at his
+best. His was a dominating personality. There was no cowardice in his
+nature&mdash;at least no physical cowardice. Doubtless, had it come to a
+struggle where agility was required, he would have fallen an easy prey
+to his lithe companion; but with him, somehow, it never did come to a
+struggle. He had a way with him that chilled any such thought that a
+would-be assailant might have. Will and unflinching courage are splendid
+assets. And, amongst others, this man possessed both.</p>
+
+<p>Mancha slunk back to the door, and, fumbling at the lock, opened it and
+passed out. Lablache instantly whipped out a revolver, and, stepping
+heavily on one side, advanced to the door, paused and listened. He was
+well under cover. The door was open. He was behind it. He knew better
+than to expose himself in the light for Mancha to make a target of him
+from without. Then he kicked the door to. Making a complete circuit of
+the walls of the office he came to the opposite side of the door, where
+he swiftly locked and bolted it. Then he drew an iron shutter across the
+light panelling and secured it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good,&quot; he muttered, as, sucking in a heavy breath, he returned to the
+stove and turned his back to it. &quot;It's as well to understand Mexican
+nature.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then he lounged into his basket chair and rubbed his fleshy hands
+reflectively. There was a triumphant look upon his repulsive features.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite right, friend Pedro, it's not a bad deal,&quot; he said to himself,
+blinking at the red light of the fire. &quot;Not half bad. Seven thousand
+dollars for two thousand dollars, and every cent of it realizable.&quot; He
+shook with inward mirth. &quot;The Hon. William Bunning-Ford will now have to
+disgorge every stick of his estate. Good, good!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then he relapsed into deep thought. Presently he roused himself from his
+reverie and prepared for bed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I'll give him a chance. Yes, I'll give him a chance,&quot; he muttered,
+as, after undergoing the simple operation of removing his coat, he
+stretched himself upon his bed and drew the blankets about him. &quot;If
+he'll consent to renounce any claim, fancied or otherwise, he may have
+to Joaquina Allandale's regard I'll refrain from selling him up. Yes,
+Verner Lablache will forego his money&mdash;for a time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The great bed shook as the monumental money-lender suppressed a chuckle.
+Then he turned over, and his stertorous inhalations soon suggested that
+the great man slept.</p>
+
+<p>Shylock, the Jew, determined on having his pound of flesh. But a woman
+outwitted him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X" />CHAPTER X - &quot;AUNT&quot; MARGARET REFLECTS</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was almost dark when Jacky returned to the ranch. She had left &quot;Lord&quot;
+Bill at the brink of the great keg, whence he had returned to his own
+place. Her first thought, on entering the house, was for the letter
+which she had left for her uncle. It was gone. She glanced round the
+room uncertainly. Then she stood gazing into the stove, while she idly
+drummed with her gauntleted fingers upon the back of a chair. She had as
+yet removed neither her Stetson hat nor her gauntlets.</p>
+
+<p>Her strong, dark face was unusually varying in its expression. Possibly
+her thoughts were thus indexed. Now, as she stood watching the play of
+the fire, her great, deep eyes would darken with a grave, almost anxious
+expression; again they would smile with a world of untold happiness in
+their depths. Again they would change, in a flash, to a hard, cold gleam
+of hatred and unyielding purpose; then slowly, a tender expression, such
+as that of a mother for Her new-born babe, would creep into them and
+shine down into the depths of the fire with a world of sweet sympathy.
+But through all there was a tight compression of the lips, which spoke
+of the earnest purpose which governed her thoughts; a slight pucker of
+the brows, which surely told of a great concentration of mind.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she roused herself, and, walking to where a table-bell stood,
+rang sharply upon it. Her summons was almost immediately answered by the
+entry of a servant.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky turned as the door opened, and fired an abrupt question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Has Uncle John been in, Mamie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl's face had resumed its usual strong, kindly expression.
+Whatever was hidden behind that calm exterior, she had no intention of
+giving a chance observer any clew to it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, miss,&quot; the servant replied, in that awestruck tone which domestics
+are apt to use when sharply interrogated. She was an intelligent-looking
+girl. Her dark skin and coarse black hair pronounced her a half-breed.
+Her mistress had said &quot;blood is thicker than water.&quot; All the domestics
+under Jacky's charge hailed from the half-breed camp.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Was my message delivered to him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Unconcernedly as she spoke she waited with some anxiety for the answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes, miss. Silas delivered it himself. The master was in company
+with Mr. Lablache and the doctor, miss,&quot; added the girl, discreetly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what did he say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He sent Silas for the letter, miss.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He didn't say what time he would return, I suppose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, miss&mdash;&quot; She hesitated and fumbled at the door handle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; as the girl showed by her attitude that there was something she
+had left unsaid.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky's question rang acutely in the quiet room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Silas&mdash;&quot; began the girl, with a deprecating air of unbelief&mdash;&quot;you know
+what strange notions he takes&mdash;he said&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl stopped in confusion under the steady gaze of her mistress.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Speak up, girl,&quot; exclaimed Jacky, impatiently. &quot;What is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, nothing, miss,&quot; the girl blurted out desperately. &quot;Only Silas said
+as the master didn't seem well like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! That will do.&quot; Then, as the girl still stood at the door, &quot;You can
+go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dismissal was peremptory, and the half-breed had no choice but to
+depart. She had hoped to have heard something interesting, but her
+mistress was never given to being communicative with servants.</p>
+
+<p>When the door had closed behind the half-breed Jacky turned again
+towards the stove. Again she was plunged in deep thought. This time
+there could be no mistake as to its tenor. Her heart was racked with an
+anxiety which was not altogether new to it. The sweet face was pale and
+her eyelids flickered ominously. The servant's veiled meaning was quite
+plain to her. Brave, hardy as this girl of the prairie was, the fear
+that was ever in her heart had suddenly assumed the proportions of a
+crushing reality. She loved her uncle with an affection that was almost
+maternal. It was the love of a strong, resolute nature for one of a
+kindly but weak disposition. She loved the gray-headed old man, whose
+affection had made her life one long, long day of happiness, with a
+tenderness which no recently-acquired faults of his could alienate.
+He&mdash;and now another&mdash;was her world. A world in which it was her joy to
+dwell. And now&mdash;now; what of the present? Racked by losses brought about
+through the agency of his all-absorbing passion, the weak old man was
+slowly but surely taking to drowning his consciousness of the appalling
+calamity which he had consistently set to work to bring about, and which
+in his lucid moments he saw looming heavily over his house, in drink.
+She had watched him with the never-failing eye of love, and had seen, to
+her horror, the signs she so dreaded. She could face disaster stoically,
+she could face danger unflinchingly, but this moral wrecking of the old
+man, who had been more to her than a father, was more than she could
+bear. Two great tears welled up into her beautiful, somber eyes and
+slowly rolled down her cheeks. She bowed like a willow bending to the
+force of the storm.</p>
+
+<p>Her weakness was only momentary, however; her courage, bred from the
+wildness of her life surroundings, rose superior to her feminine
+weakness. She dashed her gloved hands across her eyes and wiped the
+tears away. She felt that she must be doing&mdash;not weeping. Had not she
+sealed a solemn compact with her lover? She must to work without delay.</p>
+
+<p>She glanced round the room. Her gaze was that of one who wishes to
+reassure herself. It was as if the old life had gone from her and she
+was about to embark on a career new&mdash;foreign to her. A career in which
+she could see no future&mdash;only the present. She felt like one taking a
+long farewell to a life which had been fraught with nothing but delight.
+The expression of her face told of the pain of the parting. With a heavy
+sigh she passed out of the room&mdash;out into the chill night air, where
+even the welcome sounds of the croaking frogs and the lowing cattle were
+not. Where nothing was to cheer her for the work which in the future
+must be hers. Something of that solemn night entered her soul. The gloom
+of disaster was upon her.</p>
+
+<p>It was only a short distance to Dr. Abbot's house. The darkness of the
+night was no hindrance to the girl. Hither she made her way with the
+light, springing step of one whose mind is made up to a definite
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>She found Mrs. Abbot in. The little sitting-room in the doctor's house
+was delightfully homelike and comfortable. There was nothing pretentious
+about it&mdash;just solid comfort. And the great radiating stove in the
+center of it smelt invitingly warm to the girl as she came in out of the
+raw night air. Mrs. Abbot was alternating between a basket of sewing and
+a well-worn, cheap-edition novel. The old lady was waiting with
+patience, the outcome of experience, for the return of her lord to his
+supper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, 'Aunt' Margaret,&quot; said Jacky, entering with the confidence of an
+assured welcome, &quot;I've come over for a good gossip. There's nobody at
+home&mdash;up there,&quot; with a nod in the direction of the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My dear child, I'm so pleased,&quot; exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, coming forward
+from her rather rigid seat, and kissing the girl on both cheeks with
+old-fashioned cordiality. &quot;Come and sit by the stove&mdash;yes, take that
+hideous hat off, which, by the way, I never could understand your
+wearing. Now, when John and I were first en&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes, dear. I know what you're going to say,&quot; interrupted the girl,
+smiling in spite of the dull aching at her heart. She knew how this
+sweet old lady lived in the past, and she also knew how, to a
+sympathetic ear, she loved to pour out the delights of memory from a
+heart overflowing with a strong affection for the man of her choice.
+Jacky had come here to talk of other matters, and she knew that when
+&quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret liked she could be very shrewd and practical.</p>
+
+<p>Something in the half-wistful smile of her companion brought the old
+lady quickly back from the realms of recollection, and a pair of keen,
+kindly eyes met the steady gray-black orbs of the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, Jacky, my child, we of the frivolous sex are always being forced
+into considering the mundane matters of everyday life here at Foss
+River. What is it, dear? I can see by your face that you are worrying
+over something.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl threw herself into an easy chair, drawn up to the glowing stove
+with careful forethought by the old lady. Mrs. Abbot reseated herself in
+the straight-backed chair she usually affected. She carefully put her
+book on one side and took up some darning, assiduously inserting the
+needle but without further attempt at work. It was something to fix her
+attention on whilst talking. Old Mrs. Abbot always liked to be able to
+occupy her hands when talking seriously. And Jacky's face told her that
+this was a moment for serious conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where's the Doc?&quot; the girl asked without preamble. She knew, of course,
+but she used the question by way of making a beginning.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady imperceptibly straightened her back. She now anticipated
+the reason of her companion's coming. She glanced over the top of a pair
+of gold <i>pince-nez</i>, which she had just settled comfortably upon the
+bridge of her pretty, broad nose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's down at the saloon playing poker. Why, dear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her question was so innocent, but Jacky was not for a moment deceived by
+its tone. The girl smiled plaintively into the fire. There was no
+necessity for her to disguise her feelings before &quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret, she
+knew. But her loyal nature shrank from flaunting her uncle's weaknesses
+before even this kindly soul. She kept her fencing attitude a little
+longer, however.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who is he playing with?&quot; Jacky raised a pair of inquiring gray eyes to
+her companion's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your uncle and&mdash;Lablache.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The shrewd old eyes watched the girl's face keenly. But Jacky gave no
+sign.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will you send for him, 'Aunt' Margaret?&quot; said the girl, quietly.
+&quot;Without letting him know that I am here,&quot; she added, as an
+afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly, dear,&quot; the old lady replied, rising with alacrity. &quot;Just
+wait a moment while I send word. Keewis hasn't gone to his teepee yet. I
+set him to clean some knives just now. He can go. These Indians are
+better messengers than they are domestics.&quot; Mrs. Abbot bustled out of
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>She returned a moment later, and, drawing her chair beside that of the
+girl, seated herself and rested one soft white hand on those of her
+companion, which were reposing clasped in the lap of her dungaree skirt.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, tell me, dear&mdash;tell me all about it&mdash;I know, it is your uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sympathy of her tone could never have been conveyed in mere words.
+This woman's heart expressed its kindliness in voice and eyes. There was
+no resisting her, and Jacky made no effort to do so.</p>
+
+<p>For one instant there flashed into the girl's face a look of utter
+distress. She had come purposely to talk plainly to the woman whom she
+had lovingly dubbed &quot;Aunt Margaret,&quot; but she found it very hard when it
+came to the point, She cast about in her mind for a beginning, then
+abandoned the quest and blurted out lamely the very thing from which she
+most shrank.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, auntie, you've observed uncle lately&mdash;I mean how strange he is?
+You've noticed how often, now, he is&mdash;is not himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whisky,&quot; said the old lady, uncompromisingly. &quot;Yes, dear, I have. It is
+quite the usual thing to smell' old man Smith's vile liquor when John
+Allandale is about. I'm glad you've spoken. I did not like to say
+anything to you about it. John's on a bad trail.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and a trail with a long, downhill gradient,&quot; replied Jacky, with a
+rueful little smile. &quot;Say, aunt,&quot; she went on, springing suddenly to her
+feet and confronting the old lady's mildly-astonished gaze, &quot;isn't there
+anything we can do to stop him? What is it? This poker and whisky are
+ruining him body and soul. Is the whisky the result of his losses? Or is
+the madness for a gamble the result of the liquor?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Neither the one&mdash;nor the other, my dear. It is&mdash;Lablache.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The older woman bent over her darning, and the needle passed, rippling,
+round a &quot;potato&quot; in the sock which was in her lap. Her eyes were
+studiously fixed upon the work.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;Lablache! It is always Lablache, whichever way I turn.
+Gee&mdash;but the whole country reeks of him. I tell you right here, aunt,
+that man's worse than scurvy in our ranching world. Everybody and
+everything in Foss River seems to be in his grip.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Excepting a certain young woman who refuses to be ensnared.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The words were spoken quite casually. But Jacky started. Their meaning
+was driven straight home. She looked down upon the bent, gray head as if
+trying to penetrate to the thought that was passing within. There was a
+moment's impressive silence. The clock ticked loudly in the silence of
+the room. A light wind was whistling rather shrilly outside, round the
+angles of the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on, auntie,&quot; said the girl, slowly. &quot;You haven't said enough&mdash;yet. I
+guess you're thinking mighty&mdash;deeply.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot looked up from her work. She was smiling, but behind that
+smile there was a strange gravity in the expression of her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is nothing more to say at present.&quot; Then she added, in a tone
+from which all seriousness had vanished, &quot;Hasn't Lablache ever asked you
+to marry him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A light was beginning to dawn upon the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought so.&quot; It was now Mrs. Abbot's turn to rise and confront her
+companion. And she did so with the calm manner of one who is assured
+that what she is about to say cannot be refuted. Her kindly face had
+lost nothing of its sweet expression, only there was something in it
+which seemed to be asking a mute question, whilst her words conveyed the
+statement of a case as she knew it. &quot;You dear, foolish people. Can you
+not see what is going on before your very eyes, or must a stupid old
+woman like myself explain what is patent to the veriest fool in the
+settlement? Lablache is the source of your uncle's trouble, and,
+incidentally, you are the incentive. I have watched&mdash;I have little else
+to do in Foss River&mdash;you all for years past, and there is little that I
+could not tell you about any of you, as far as the world sees you.
+Lablache has been a source of a world of thought to me. The business
+side of him is patent to everybody. He is hard, flinty, tyrannical&mdash;even
+unscrupulous. I am telling you nothing new, I know. But there is another
+side to his character which some of you seem to ignore. He is capable of
+strong passions&mdash;ay, very strong passions. He has conceived a passion
+for you. I will call it by no other name in such an unholy brute as
+Lablache. He wishes to marry <i>you&mdash;he means to marry you</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The silver-haired old lady had worked herself up to an unusual
+vehemence. She paused after accentuating her last words. Jacky, taking
+advantage of the break, dropped in a question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But&mdash;how does this affect my uncle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret sniffed disdainfully and resettled the glasses which, in
+the agitation of the moment, had slipped from her nose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course it affects your uncle,&quot; she continued more quietly. &quot;Now
+listen and I will explain.&quot; Once more these two seated themselves and
+&quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret again plunged into her story.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sometimes I catch myself speculating as to how it comes about that you
+have inspired this passion in such a man as Lablache,&quot; she began,
+glancing into the somberly beautiful face beside her. &quot;I should have
+expected that mass of flesh and money&mdash;he always reminds me of a
+jelly-fish, my dear&mdash;ugh!&mdash;to have wished to take to himself one of your
+gaudy butterflies from New York or London for a wife; not a simple child
+of the prairie who is more than half a wild&mdash;wild savage.&quot; She smiled
+lovingly into the girl's face. &quot;You see these coarse money-grubbers
+always prefer their pills well gilded, and, as a rule, their matrimonial
+pills need a lot of gilding to bring them up to the standard of what
+they think a wife should be. However, it was not long before it became
+plain to me that he wished to marry you. He may be a master of finance;
+he may disguise his feelings&mdash;if he has any&mdash;in business, so that the
+shrewdest observer can discover no vulnerable point in his armor of
+dissimulation. But when it comes to matters pertaining
+to&mdash;to&mdash;love&mdash;quite the wrong word in his case, my dear&mdash;these men are
+as babes; worse, they are fools. When Lablache makes up his mind to a
+purpose he generally accomplishes his end&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In business,&quot; suggested Jacky, moodily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so&mdash;in business, my dear. In matters matrimonial it may be
+different. But I doubt his failure in that,&quot; went on Mrs. Abbot, with a
+decided snap of her expressive mouth. &quot;He will try by fair means or
+foul, and, if I know anything of him, he will never relinquish his
+purpose. He asked you to marry him&mdash;and of course you refused, quite
+natural and right. He will not risk another refusal from you&mdash;these
+people consider themselves very sensitive, my dear&mdash;so he will attempt
+to accomplish his end by other means&mdash;means much more congenial to him,
+the&mdash;the beast. There now, I've said it, my dear. The doctor tells me
+that he is quite the most skilful player at poker that he has ever come
+across.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess that's so,&quot; said the girl, with a dark, ironical smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that his luck is phenomenal,&quot; the old lady went on, without
+appearing to notice the interruption. &quot;Very well. Your uncle, the old
+fool&mdash;excuse me, my dear&mdash;has done nothing but gamble all his life. The
+doctor says that he believes John has never been known to win more than
+about once in a month's play, no matter with whom he plays. You know&mdash;we
+all know&mdash;that for years he has been in the habit of raising loans from
+this monumental cuttle-fish to settle his losses. And you can trust that
+individual to see that these loans are well secured. John Allandale is
+reputed very rich, but the doctor assures me that were Lablache to
+foreclose his mortgages a very, very big slice of your uncle's worldly
+goods would be taken to meet his debts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now comes the last stage of the affair,&quot; she went on, with a sage
+little shake of the head. &quot;How long ago is it since Lablache proposed to
+you? But there, you need not tell me. It was a little less than a year
+ago&mdash;wasn't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her companion nodded her head. She wondered how &quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret had
+guessed it. She had never told a soul herself. The shrewd little old
+lady was filling her with wonder. The careful manner in which she had
+pieced facts together and argued them out with herself revealed to her
+a cleverness and observation she would never, in spite of the kindly
+soul's counsels, have given her credit for.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I knew I was right,&quot; said Mrs. Abbot, complacently. &quot;Just about
+the time when Lablache began seriously to play poker&mdash;about the time
+when his phenomenal luck set in, to the detriment of your uncle. Yes, I
+am well posted,&quot; as the girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. &quot;The
+doctor tells me a great deal&mdash;especially about your uncle, dear. I
+always like to know what is going on. And now to bring my long
+explanation to an end. Don't you see how Lablache intends to marry you?
+Your uncle's losses this winter have been so terribly heavy&mdash;and all to
+Lablache. Lablache holds the whip hand of him. A request from Lablache
+becomes a command&mdash;or the crash.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how about the Doc,&quot; asked Jacky, quickly. &quot;He plays with
+them&mdash;mostly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The doctor can take care of himself. He's cautious, and
+besides&mdash;Lablache has no wish to win his money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But surely he must lose? Say, auntie, dear, it's not possible to play
+against Lablache's luck without losing&mdash;some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, dear, I can't say I know much of the game,&quot; with some perplexity,
+&quot;but the doctor assures me that Lablache never hits him hard. Often and
+often when the 'pot' rests between them Lablache will throw down his
+hand&mdash;which goes to show that he does not want to take his money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An' I reckon goes to show that he's bucking dead against Uncle John,
+only. Yes, I see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The little gray head again bent over the darning, which had lain almost
+untouched in her lap during her long recital. Now she resolutely drew
+the darning yarn through the soft wool of the sock and re-inserted the
+needle. The girl beside her bent an eager face before her, and, resting
+her chin upon her hands, propped her elbows on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, auntie, I know,&quot; Jacky went on thoughtfully. &quot;Lablache means to
+put this marriage with me right through. I see it all. But say,&quot;
+bringing one of her brown hands down forcibly upon that of her
+companion, which was concealed in the foot of the woolen sock, and
+gripping it with nervous strength, &quot;I guess he's reckoned without his
+bride. I'm not going to marry Lablache, auntie, dear, and you can bet
+your bottom dollar I'm not going to let him ruin uncle. All I want to do
+is to stop uncle drinking. That is what scares me most.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My child, Lablache is the cause of that. The same as he is the cause of
+all troubles in Foss River. Your uncle realizes the consequences of the
+terrible losses he has incurred. He knows, only too well, that he is
+utterly in the money-lender's power. He knows he must go on playing,
+vainly endeavoring to recover himself, and with each fresh loss he
+drinks deeper to smother his fears and conscience. It is the result of
+the weakness of his nature&mdash;a weakness which I have always known would
+sooner or later lead to his undoing. Jacky, girl, I fear you will one
+day have to marry Lablache or your uncle's ruin will be certainly
+accomplished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Abbot's face was very serious now. She pitied from the bottom of
+her heart this motherless girl who had come to her, in spite of her
+courage and almost mannish independence, for that sympathy and advice
+which, at certain moments, the strongest woman cannot do without. She
+knew that all she had said was right, and even if her story could do no
+material good it would at least have the effect of putting the girl on
+her guard. In spite of her shrewdness Mrs. Abbot could never quite
+fathom her <i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;e</i>. And even now, as she gazed into the girl's face,
+she was wondering how&mdash;in what manner&mdash;the narration of her own
+observations would influence the other's future actions. The thick blood
+of the half-breed slowly rose into Jacky's face, until the dark skin was
+suffused with a heavy, passionate flush. Slowly, too, the somber eyes
+lit&mdash;glowed&mdash;until the dazzling fire of anger shone in their depths.
+Then she spoke; not passionately, but with a hard, cruel delivery which
+sent a shiver thrilling through her companion's body and left her
+shuddering.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Aunt' Margaret, I swear by all that's holy that I'll never marry that
+scum. Say, I'd rather follow a round-up camp and share a greaser's
+blankets than wear all the diamonds Lablache could buy. An' as for
+uncle; say, the day that sees him ruined'll see Lablache's filthy brains
+spoiling God's pure air.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Child, child,&quot; replied the old lady, in alarm, &quot;don't take oaths, the
+rashness&mdash;the folly of which you cannot comprehend. For goodness' sake
+don't entertain such wicked thoughts. Lablache is a villain, but&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She broke off and turned towards the door, which, at that moment, opened
+to admit the genial doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah,&quot; she went on, with a sudden change of manner back to that of her
+usual cheerful self, &quot;I thought you men were going to make a night of
+it. Jacky came to share my solitude.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good evening, Jacky,&quot; said the doctor. &quot;Yes, we were going to make a
+night of it, Margaret. Your summons broke up the party, and for John's
+sake&mdash;&quot; He checked himself, and glanced curiously at the recurrent form
+of the girl, who was now lounging back in her chair gazing into the
+stove. &quot;What did you want me for?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky rose abruptly from her seat and picked up her hat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Aunt' Margaret didn't really want you, Doc. It was I who asked her to
+send for you. I want to see uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor permitted himself the ejaculation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good-night, you two dear people,&quot; the girl went on, with a forced
+attempt at cheerfulness. &quot;I guess uncle'll be home by now, so I'll be
+off.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, he left the saloon with me,&quot; said Doctor Abbot, shaking hands and
+walking towards the door. &quot;You'll just about catch him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl kissed the old lady and passed out. The doctor stood for a
+moment on his doorstep gazing after her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poor child&mdash;poor child!&quot; he murmured. &quot;Yes, she'll find him&mdash;I saw him
+home myself,&quot; And he broke off with an expressive shrug.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI" />CHAPTER XI - THE CAMPAIGN OPENS</h2>
+
+
+<p>The summit of a hill, however insignificant its altitude, is always an
+inspiring vantage point from which to survey the surrounding world.
+There is a briskness of atmosphere on a hilltop which is inspiriting to
+the most jaded of faculties; there is a sparkling vitality in the breath
+of the morning air which must ever make life a joy and the world seem an
+inexpressible delight in which it is the acme of happiness to dwell.</p>
+
+<p>The exigencies of prairie life demand the habit of early rising, and
+more often does the tiny human atom, which claims for its home the vast
+tracts of natural pasture, gaze upon the sloth of the orb of day than
+does that glorious sphere smile down upon a sleeping world.</p>
+
+<p>Far as the eye can reach stretch the mighty wastes of waving grass&mdash;the
+undulating plains of ravishing verdure. What breadth of thought must
+thus be inspired in one who gazes out across the boundless expanse at
+the glories of a perfect sunrise? How insignificant becomes the petty
+affairs of man when gazing upon the majesty of God's handiwork. How
+utterly inconceivable becomes the association of evil with such
+transcendently beautiful creation? Surely no evil was intended to lurk
+in the shadow of so much simple splendor.</p>
+
+<p>And yet does the ghastly specter of crime haunt the perfect plains, the
+majestic valleys, the noiseless, inspiring pine woods, the glistening,
+snow-capped hills. And so it must remain as long as the battle of life
+continues undecided&mdash;so long as the struggle for existence endures.</p>
+
+<p>The Hon. Bunning-Ford rose while yet the daylight was struggling to
+overcome the shades of night. He stood upon the tiny veranda which
+fronted his minute house, smoking his early morning cigarette. He was
+waiting for his coffee&mdash;that stimulating beverage which few who have
+lived in the wilds of the West can do without&mdash;and idly luxuriating in
+the wondrous charm of scene which was spread out before him. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill
+was not a man of great poetic mind, but he appreciated his adopted
+country&mdash;&quot;God's country,&quot; as he was wont to call it&mdash;as can only those
+who have lived in it. The prairie had become part of his very existence,
+and he loved to contemplate the varying lights and colors which moved
+athwart the fresh spring-clad plains as the sun rose above the eastern
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>The air was chill, but withal invigorating, as he watched the steely
+blue of the daylit sky slowly give place to the rosy tint of sunrise.
+Slowly at first&mdash;then faster&mdash;great waves of golden light seemed to leap
+from the top of one green rising ground to another; the gray white of
+the snowy western mountains passed from one dead shade to another,
+until, at last, they gleamed like alabaster from afar with a diamond
+brilliancy almost painful to the eye. Thus the sun rose like some mighty
+caldron of fire mounting into the cloudless azure of a perfect sky,
+showering unctuous rays of light and heat upon the chilled life that was
+of its own creating.</p>
+
+<p>Bill was still lost in thought, gazing out upon the perfect scene from
+the vantage point of the hill upon which his &quot;shack&quot; stood, when round
+the corner of the house came a half-breed, bearing a large tin pannikin
+of steaming coffee. He took the pannikin from the man and propped
+himself against a post which helped to support the roof of the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are the boys out yet?&quot; he asked the waiting Breed, and nodding towards
+the corrals, which reposed at the foot of the hill and were overlooked
+by the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess,&quot; the fellow replied laconically. Then, as an afterthought,
+&quot;They're getting breakfast, anyhow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, when they've finished their grub you can tell 'em to turn to and
+lime out the sheds. I'm going in to the settlement to-day. If I'm not
+back to-night let them go right on with the job to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man signified his understanding of the instructions with a grunt.
+This cook of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's was not a man of words. His vocation had
+induced an irascibility of temper which took the form of silence. His
+was an incipient misanthropy.</p>
+
+<p>Bill returned the empty pannikin and strolled down towards the corrals
+and sheds. The great barn lay well away from where the cattle
+congregated. This ranch was very different from that of the Allandales
+of Foss River. It was some miles away from the settlement. Its
+surroundings were far more open. Timber backed the house, it is true,
+but in front was the broad expanse of the open plains. It was an
+excellent position, and, governed by a thrifty hand, would undoubtedly
+have thrived and ultimately vied with the more elaborate establishment
+over which Jacky held sway. As it was, however, Bill cared little for
+prosperity and money-making, and though he did not neglect his property
+he did not attempt to extend its present limits.</p>
+
+<p>The milch cows were slowly mouching from the corrals as he neared the
+sheds. A diminutive herder was urging them along with shrill, piping
+shrieks&mdash;vicious but ineffective. Far more to the purpose were the
+efforts to a well-trained, bob-tailed sheep dog who was awaking echoes
+on the brisk morning air with the full-toned note of his bark.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill found one or two hands quietly enjoying their
+after-breakfast smoke, but the majority had not as yet left the kitchen.
+Outside the barn two men were busily soft-soaping their saddles and
+bridles, whilst a third, seated on an upturned box, was wiping out his
+revolver with a coal-oil rag. Bill passed them by with a nod and
+greeting, and went into the stable. The horses were feeding, but as yet
+the stalls had not been cleaned out. He returned and gave some
+instructions to one of the men. Then he walked slowly back to the house.
+Usually he would have stayed down there to see the work of the day
+carried out; now, however, he was preoccupied. On this particular
+morning he took but little interest in the place; he knew only too well
+how soon it must pass from his possession.</p>
+
+<p>Half-way up the hill he paused and turned his sleepy eyes towards the
+south. At a considerable distance a vehicle was approaching at a
+spanking pace. It was a buckboard, one of those sturdy conveyances built
+especially for light prairie transport. As yet it was not sufficiently
+near for him to distinguish its occupant, but the speed and cut of the
+horses seemed familiar to him. He continued on towards the house, and
+seated himself leisurely on the veranda, and, rolling himself another
+cigarette, calmly watched the on-coming conveyance.</p>
+
+<p>It was the habit of this man never to be prodigal in the display of
+energy. He usually sat when there was no need for standing; he always
+considered speech to be golden, but silence, to his way of thinking, was
+priceless. And like most men of such opinion he cultivated thought and
+observation.</p>
+
+<p>He propped his back against the veranda post, and, taking a deep
+inhalation from his cigarette, gazed long and earnestly, with
+half-closed eyes, down the winding southern trail.</p>
+
+<p>His curiosity, if such a feeling might have been attributed to him, was
+soon set at rest, for, as the horses raced up the hill towards him, he
+had no difficulty in recognizing the bulky proportions of his visitor.
+Seeing the driver of the buckboard making for the house, two of the
+&quot;hands&quot; had hastened up the hill to take the horses. Lablache, for it
+was the fleshy money-lender, slid, as agilely as his great bulk would
+permit him, from the vehicle, and the two men took charge of the horses.
+Bill was not altogether cordial. It was not his way to be so to anybody
+but his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How are you?&quot; he said with a nod, but without rising from his recumbent
+attitude. &quot;Goin' to stay long?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His latter question sounded churlish, but Lablache understood his
+meaning. It was of the horses the rancher was thinking.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An hour, maybe,&quot; replied Lablache, breathing heavily as a result of his
+climb out of the buckboard.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right Take 'em away, boys. Remove the harness and give 'em a good rub
+down. Don't water or feed 'em till they're cool. They're spanking
+'plugs,' Lablache,&quot; he added, as he watched the horses being led down to
+the barn. &quot;Come inside. Had breakfast?&quot; rising and knocking the dust
+from the seat of his moleskin trousers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I had breakfast before daylight, thanks,&quot; Lablache said, glancing
+quickly down at the empty corrals, where his horses were about to
+undergo a rubbing down. &quot;I came out to have a business chat with you.
+Shall we go in-doors?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Most certainly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was an expressive curtness in the two words. Bill permitted
+himself a brief survey of the great man's back as the latter turned
+towards the front door. And although his half-closed lids hid the
+expression of his eyes, the pursing of the lips and the fluctuating
+muscles of his jaw spoke of unpleasant thoughts passing through his
+mind. A business talk with Lablache, under the circumstances, could not
+afford the rancher much pleasure. He followed the money-lender into the
+sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p>The apartment was very bare, mannish, and scarcely the acme of neatness.
+A desk, a deck chair, a bench and a couple of old-fashioned windsor
+chairs; a small table, on which breakfast things were set, an old
+saddle, a rack of guns and rifles, a few trophies of the chase in the
+shape of skins and antelope heads comprised the furniture and
+decorations of the room. And too, in that slightly uncouth collection,
+something of the character of the proprietor was revealed.</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford was essentially careless of comfort. And surely he was
+nothing if not a keen and ardent sportsman.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sit down.&quot; Bill indicated the chairs with a wave of the arm. Lablache
+dubiously eyed the deck chair, then selected one of the unyielding
+Windsor chairs as more safe for the burden of his precious body, tested
+it, and sat down, emitting a gasp of breath like an escape of steam from
+a safety-valve. The younger man propped himself on the corner of his
+desk.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked furtively into his companion's face. Then he turned his
+eyes in the direction of the window. Bill said nothing, his face was
+calm. He intended the money-lender to speak first. The latter seemed
+indisposed to do so. His lashless eyes gazed steadily out at the prairie
+beyond. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's persistent silence at length forced the other into
+speech. His words came slowly and were frequently punctuated with deep
+breaths.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your ranch&mdash;everything you possess is held on first mortgage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not all.&quot; Bunning-Ford's answer came swiftly. The abruptness of the
+other's announcement nettled him. The tone of the words conveyed a
+challenge which the younger man was not slow to accept.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged his shoulders with deliberation until his fleshy jowl
+creased against the woolen folds of his shirt front.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It comes to the same thing,&quot; he said; &quot;what I&mdash;what is not mortgaged is
+held in bonds. The balance, practically all of it, you owe under
+signature to Pedro Mancha. It is because of that&mdash;latest&mdash;debt I am
+here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill rolled a fresh cigarette and lit it. He guessed something of what
+was coming&mdash;but not all.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mancha will force you to meet your liabilities to him. Your interest is
+shortly due to the Calford Loan Co. You cannot meet both.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache gazed unblinkingly into the other's face. He was thoroughly
+enjoying himself.</p>
+
+<p>Bill was staring pensively at his cigarette. One leg swung pendulum
+fashion beside the desk. His indebtedness troubled him not a jot. He was
+trying to fathom the object of this prelude. Lablache, he knew, had not
+come purposely to make these plain statements. He blew a cloud of smoke
+down his nostrils with much appreciation. Then he heaved a sigh as
+though his troubles were too great for him to bear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right&mdash;dead right, first time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The lazy eyes appeared to be staring into space. In reality they were
+watching the doughy countenance before him. &quot;What do you propose to do?&quot;
+Lablache asked, ignoring the other's flippant tone.</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Debts of honor must be met first,&quot; he said quietly. &quot;Mancha must be
+paid in full. I shall take care of that. For the rest, I have no doubt
+your business knowledge will prompt you as to what course the Calford
+Loan Co. and yourself had best adopt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was slightly taken aback at the cool indifference of this man.
+He scarcely knew how to deal with him. He had driven out this morning
+intending to coerce, or, at least, strike a hard bargain. But the object
+of his attentions was, to say the least of it, difficult.</p>
+
+<p>He moved uneasily and crossed his legs.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is only one course open to your creditors. It is a harsh method
+and one which goes devilishly against the grain. But&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pray don't apologize, Mr. Lablache,&quot; broke in the other, smiling
+sardonically. &quot;I am fully aware of the tender condition of your
+feelings. I only trust that in this matter you will carry out
+your&mdash;er&mdash;painful duty without worrying me with the detail of the
+necessary routine. I shall settle Mancha's debt at once and then you are
+welcome to the confounded lot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill moved from his position and walked towards the door. The
+significance of his action was well marked. Lablache, however, had no
+intention of going yet. He moved heavily round upon his chair so as to
+face his man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One moment&mdash;er&mdash;Ford. You are a trifle precipitate. I was going on to
+say, when you interrupted me, that if you cared to meet me half-way I
+have a proposition to make which might solve your difficulty. It is an
+unusual one, I admit, but,&quot; with a meaning smile, &quot;I rather fancy that
+the Calford Loan Co. might be induced to see the advantage, <i>to them</i>,
+of delaying action.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The object of this early morning visit was about to be made apparent.
+Bill returned to his position at the desk and lit another cigarette. The
+suave manner of his unwelcome guest was dangerous. He was prepared.
+There was something almost feline in the attitude and the expression of
+the young rancher as he waited for the money-lender to proceed. Perhaps
+Lablache understood him. Perhaps his understanding warned him to adopt
+his best manner. His usual method in dealing with his victims was hardly
+the same as he was now using.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, what is this 'unusual' course?&quot; asked Bill, in no very tolerant
+tone. He wished it made quite plain that he cared nothing about the
+&quot;selling up&quot; process to which he knew he must be subjected. Lablache
+noted the haughty manner and resented it, but still he gave no outward
+sign. He had a definite object to attain and he would not allow his
+anger to interfere with his chances of success.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Merely a pleasant little business arrangement which should meet all
+parties' requirements,&quot; he said easily. &quot;At present you are paying a ten
+per cent, interest on a principal of thirty-five thousand dollars to the
+Calford Loan Co. A debt of twenty thousand to me includes an amount of
+interest which represents ten per cent, interest for ten years. Very
+well, Your ranch should be yielding a greater profit than it is. With
+your permission the Calford Trust Co. shall put in a competent manager,
+whose salary shall be paid out of the profits. The balance of said
+profits shall be handed Over to your creditors, less an annual income to
+you of fifteen hundred dollars. Thus the principal of your debts, at a
+careful computation, should be liquidated in seven years. In
+consideration of thus shortening the period of the loans by three years
+the Calford Trust Co. shall allow you a rebate of five per cent,
+interest. Failing the profits in seven years amounting to the sums of
+money required, the Calford Trust Co. and myself will forego the balance
+due to us. Let me plainly assure you that this is no philanthropic
+scheme but the result of practical calculation. The advantage to you is
+obvious. An assured income during that period, and your ranch well and
+ably managed and improved. Your property at the end of seven years will
+return to you a vastly more valuable possession than it is at present.
+And we, on our part, will recover our money and interest without the
+unpleasant reflection that, in doing so, we have beggared you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, usurer, scoundrel, smiled benignly at his companion as he
+pronounced his concluding words. The Hon. Bunning-Ford looked, thought,
+and looked again. He began to think that Lablache was meditating a more
+rascally proceeding than he had given him credit for. His words were so
+specious. His pie was so delicately crusted with such a tempting
+exterior. What was the object of this magnanimous offer? He felt he must
+know more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It sounds awfully well, but surely that is not all. What, in return, is
+demanded of me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache had carefully watched the effect of his words. He was wondering
+whether the man he was dealing with was clever beyond the average, or a
+fool. He was still balancing the point in his mind when Bill put the
+question.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked away, produced a snuff-box and drew up a large pinch of
+snuff before answering. He blew his nose with trumpet-like vehemence on
+a great red bandana.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The only return asked of you is that you vacate the country for the
+next two years,&quot; he said heavily. And in that rejoinder &quot;Lord&quot; Bill
+understood the man's guile.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sudden awakening, but it came to him as no sort of surprise. He
+had long suspected, although he had never given serious credence to his
+suspicions, the object the money-lender had in inveigling both himself
+and &quot;Poker&quot; John into their present difficulties. Now he understood, and
+a burning desire swept over him to shoot the man down where he sat. Then
+a revulsion of feeling came to him and he saw the ludicrous side of the
+situation. He gazed at Lablache, that obese mountain of blubber, and
+tried to think of the beautiful, wild Jacky as the money-lender's wife.
+The thing seemed so preposterous that he burst out into a mocking laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, whose fishy eyes had never left the rancher's face, heard the
+tone and slowly flushed with anger. For an instant he seemed about to
+rise, then instead he leant forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; he asked, breathing his monosyllabic inquiry hissing upon the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>Bill emitted a thin cloud of smoke into the money-lender's face. His
+eyes had suddenly become wide open and blazing with anger. He pointed to
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll see you damned first! Now&mdash;git!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At the door Lablache turned. In his face was written all the fury of
+hell.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mancha's debt is transferred to me. You will settle it without delay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He had scarcely uttered the last word when there was a loud report, and
+simultaneously the crash of a bullet in the casing of the door. Lablache
+accepted his dismissal with precipitation and hastened to where his
+horses were stationed, to the accompaniment of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's mocking
+laugh. He had no wish to test the rancher's marksmanship further.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII" />CHAPTER XII - LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT</h2>
+
+
+<p>A month&mdash;just one month and the early spring has developed with almost
+tropical suddenness into a golden summer. The rapid passing of seasons,
+the abrupt break, the lightning change from one into another, is one of
+the many beauties of the climate of that fair land where there are no
+half measures in Nature's mode of dealing out from her varied store of
+moods. Spring chases Winter, hoary, bitter, cruel Winter, in the hours
+of one night; and in turn Spring's delicate influence is overpowered
+with equal celerity by the more matured and unctuous ripeness of Summer.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River had now become a glorious picture of vivid coloring. The
+clumps of pine woods no longer present their tattered purplish
+appearance, the garb in which grim Winter is wont to robe them. They are
+lighter, gayer, and bathed in the gleaming sunlight they are transformed
+from their somber forbidding aspect to that of radiant, welcome shade.
+The river is high, almost to flooding point. And the melting snow on the
+distant mountain-tops has urged it into a sparkling torrent of icy cold
+water rushing on at a pace which threatens to tear out its deterring
+banks and shallow bed in its mad career.</p>
+
+<p>The most magical change which the first month of summer has brought is
+to be seen in the stock. Cattle, when first brought in from distant
+parts at the outset of the round-up, usually are thin, mean-looking, and
+half-starved. Two weeks of the delicious spring grass and the fat on
+their ribs and loins rolls and shakes as they move, growing almost
+visibly under the succulent influence of the delicate vegetation.</p>
+
+<p>Few at Foss River appreciated the blessings of summer more fully than
+did Jacky Allandale, and few worked harder than did she. Almost
+single-handed she grappled with the stupendous task of the management of
+the great ranch, and no &quot;hand,&quot; however experienced, was more capable in
+the most arduous tasks which that management involved. From the skillful
+organization down to the roping and branding of a wild two-year-old
+steer there was no one who understood the business of stock-raising
+better than she. She loved it&mdash;it was the very essence of life to her.</p>
+
+<p>Silas, her uncle's foreman, was in the habit of summing her up in his
+brief but expressive way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Missie Jacky?&quot; he would exclaim, in tones of surprise, to any one who
+dared to express wonder at her masterly management. &quot;Guess a cyclone
+does its biz mighty thorough, but I take it ef that gal 'ud been born a
+hurricane she'd 'ave dislodged mountains an' played baseball with the
+glaciers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But this year things were different with the mistress of the Foss River
+Ranch. True she went about her work with that thorough appreciation
+which she always displayed, but the young face had last something of its
+happy girlish delight&mdash;that <i>d&eacute;bonnaire</i> cheerfulness which usually
+characterized it. A shadow seemed to be hanging over her&mdash;a shadow,
+which, although it marred in no way her fresh young beauty, added a
+deepened pensiveness to her great somber eyes, and seemed to broaden the
+fringing black ring round the gray pupils. This year the girl had more
+to grapple with than the mere management of the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle needed all her care. And, too, the consciousness that the
+result of all her work was insufficient to pay the exorbitant interest
+on mortgages which had been forced upon her uncle by the hated,
+designing Lablache took something of the zest from her labors. Then,
+besides this, there were thoughts of the compact sealed between her
+lover and herself in Bad Man's Hollow, and the knowledge of the
+intentions of the money-lender towards &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, all helped to render
+her distrait. She knew all about the scene which had taken place at
+Bill's ranch, and she knew that, for her lover at least, the crash had
+come. During that first month of the open season the girl had been
+sorely tried. There was no one but &quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret to whom she could go
+for comfort or sympathy, and even she, with her wise councils and
+far-seeing judgment, could not share in the secrets which weighed so
+heavily upon the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky had not experienced, as might have been expected, very great
+difficulty in keeping her uncle fast to the grind-stone of duty.
+Whatever his faults and weaknesses, John Allandale was first of all a
+rancher, and when once the winter breaks every rancher must work&mdash;ay,
+work like no negro slave ever worked. It was only in the evenings, when
+bodily fatigue had weakened the purpose of ranching habit, and when the
+girl, wearied with her day's work, relaxed her vigilance, that the old
+man craved for the object of his passion and its degrading
+accompaniment. Then he would nibble at the whisky bottle, having &quot;earned
+his tonic,&quot; as he would say, until the potent spirit had warmed his
+courage and he would hurry off to the saloon for &quot;half an hour's
+flutter,&quot; which generally terminated in the small hours of the morning.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the state of affairs at the Foss River Ranch when Lablache put
+into execution his threats against the Hon. Bunning-Ford. The settlement
+had returned to its customary torpid serenity. The round-up was over,
+and all the &quot;hands&quot; had returned to the various ranches to which they
+belonged. The little place had entered upon its period of placid sleep,
+which would last until the advent of the farmers to spend the proceeds
+of their garnered harvest. But this would be much later in the year, and
+in the meantime Foss River would sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The night before the sale of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's ranch, he and Jacky went for
+a ride. They had thus ridden out on many evenings of late. Old John was
+too absorbed in his own affairs to bother himself at these evening
+journeyings, although, in his careless way, he noticed how frequent a
+visitor at the ranch Bill had lately become. Still, he made no
+objection. If his niece saw fit to encourage these visits he would not
+interfere. In his eyes the girl could do no wrong. It was his one
+redeeming feature, his love for the motherless girl, and although his
+way of showing it was more than open to criticism, it was true he loved
+her with a deep, strong affection.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River was far too sleepy to bother about these comings and goings.
+Lablache, alone, of the sleepy hamlet, eyed the evening journeys with
+suspicion. But even he was unable to fathom their object, and was forced
+to set them down, his whole being consumed with jealousy the while, to
+lovers' wanderings. However, these nightly rides were taken with
+purpose. After galloping across the prairie in various directions they
+always, as darkness crept on, terminated at a certain spot&mdash;the clump of
+willows and reeds at which the secret path across the great keg began.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was well down below the distant mountain peaks when Jacky and
+her lover reached the scrubby bush of willows and reeds upon the evening
+before the day of the sale of Bill's ranch. As they drew up their
+panting horses, and dismounted, the evening twilight was deepening over
+the vast expanse of the mire.</p>
+
+<p>The girl stood at the brink of the bottomless caldron of viscid muck and
+gazed out across the deadly plain. Bill stood still beside her, watching
+her face with eager, hungry eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; he said at last, as his impatience forced itself to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Bill,&quot; the girl answered slowly, as one balancing her decision
+well before giving judgment, &quot;the path has widened. The rain has kept
+off long enough, and the sun has done his best for us. It is a good
+omen. Follow me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She linked her arm through the reins of her horse's bridle, and leading
+the faithful animal, stepped fearlessly out on to the muskeg. As she
+trod the rotten crust she took a zigzag direction from one side of the
+secret path to the other. That which, in early spring, had scarcely been
+six feet in width, would now have borne ten horsemen abreast. Presently
+she turned back. &quot;We need go no further, Bill; what is safe here
+continues safe across the keg. It will widen in places, but in no place
+will the path grow narrower.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But tell me,&quot; said the man, anxious to assure himself that no detail
+was forgotten, &quot;what about the trail of our footprints?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl laughed. Then indenting the ground with her shapely boot until
+the moisture below oozed into the imprint, she looked up into the lazy
+face before her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See&mdash;we wait for one minute, and you shall see the result.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They waited in silence in the growing darkness. The night insects and
+mosquitoes buzzed around them. The man's attention was riveted upon the
+impression made by the girl's foot. Slowly the water filled the print,
+then slowly, under the moist influence, the ground, sponge-like, rose
+again, the water disappeared, and all sign of the footmark was gone.</p>
+
+<p>When again the ground had resumed its natural appearance the girl looked
+up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you satisfied, Bill? No man or beast who passes over this path
+leaves a trail which lasts longer than a minute. Even the rank grass,
+however badly trodden down, rears itself again with amazing vitality. I
+guess this place was created through the devil's agency and for the
+purpose of devil's work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill gave one sweeping glance around. Then he turned, and the two made
+their way back to the edge of the sucking mire.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, it'll do, dear. Now let us hasten home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They remounted their horses and were soon lost in the gathering darkness
+as they made their way over the brow of the rising ground, in the
+direction of the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>The next day saw the possession of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's ranch pass
+into other hands. Punctually at noon, the sale began. And by four
+o'clock the process, which robbed the rancher of everything that he
+possessed in the world, was completed.</p>
+
+<p>Bill stationed himself on the veranda and smoked incessantly while the
+sale proceeded. He was there to see how the things went, and, in fact,
+seemed to take an outsider's interest only. He experienced no morbid
+sentiment at the loss of his property&mdash;it is doubtful if he cared at
+all. Anyhow, his leisurely attitude and his appearance of good-natured
+indifference caused many surprised remarks amongst the motley collection
+of bidders who were present. In spite of these appearances, however, he
+did take a very keen interest. A representative of Lablache's was there
+to purchase stock, and Bill knew it, and his interest was centered on
+this would-be purchaser.</p>
+
+<p>The stock was the last thing to come under the hammer. There were twenty
+lots. Of these Lablache's representative purchased
+fifteen&mdash;three-quarters of the stock of the entire ranch.</p>
+
+<p>Bill waited only for this, then, as the sale closed, he leisurely rolled
+and lit another cigarette and strolled to where a horse, which he had
+borrowed from the Allandales stable, was tied, and rode slowly away.</p>
+
+<p>As he rode away he turned his head in the direction of the house upon
+the hill. He was leaving for good and all the place which had so long
+claimed him as master. He saw the small gathering of people still
+hanging about the veranda, upon which the auctioneer still stood with
+his clerk, busy over the sales. He noticed others passing hither and
+thither, as they prepared to depart with their purchases. But none of
+these things which he looked upon affected him in any mawkish,
+sentimental manner. It was all over. That little hill, with its wooded
+background and vast frontage of prairie, from which he had loved to
+watch the sun get up after its nightly sojourn, would know him no more.
+His indifference was unassumed. His was not the nature to regret past
+follies.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled softly as he turned his attention to the future which lay
+before him, and his smile was not in keeping with the expression of a
+broken man.</p>
+
+<p>In these last days of waning prosperity Bunning-Ford had noticeably
+changed. With loss of property he had lost much of that curious veneer
+of indolence, utter disregard of consequences, which had always been
+his. Not, that he had suddenly developed a violent activity or
+boisterous enthusiasm. Simply his interest in things and persons seemed
+to have received a fillip. There seemed to be an air of latent activity
+about him; a setness of purpose which must have been patent to any one
+sufficiently interested to observe the young rancher closely. But Foss
+River was too sleepy&mdash;indifferent&mdash;to worry itself about anybody, except
+those in its ranks who were riding the high horse of success. Those who
+fell out by the wayside were far too numerous to have more than a
+passing thought devoted to them. So this subtle change in the man was
+allowed to pass without comment by any except, perhaps, the
+money-lender, Lablache, and the shrewd, kindly wife of the
+doctor&mdash;people not much given to gossip.</p>
+
+<p>It was only since the discovery of Lablache's perfidy that &quot;Lord&quot; Bill
+had understood what living meant. His discovery in Smith's saloon had
+roused in him a very human manhood. Since that time he had been seized
+with a mental activity, a craving for action he had never, in all his
+lazy life, before experienced. This sudden change had been aggravated by
+Lablache's subsequent conduct, and the flame had been fanned by the
+right that Jacky had given him to protect her. The sensation was one of
+absorbing excitement, and the loss of property sat lightly upon him in
+consequence. Money he had not&mdash;property he had not. But he had now what
+he had never possessed before&mdash;he had an object.</p>
+
+<p>A lasting, implacable vengeance was his, from the contemplation of which
+he drew a satisfaction which no possession of property could have given
+him. Nature had, with incorrigible perversity, cut him out for a life of
+ease, whilst endowing him with a character capable of very great things.
+Now, in her waywardness she had aroused that character and overthrown
+the hindering superficialty in which she had clothed it. And further to
+mark her freakish mood, these same capabilities which might easily,
+under other circumstances, have led him into the fore-front of life's
+battle, she directed, with inexorable cruelty, into an adverse course.
+He had been cheated, robbed, and his soul thirsted for revenge. Lablache
+had robbed the uncle of the girl he loved, and, worse than all, the
+wretch had tried to oust him from the affections of the girl herself.
+Yes, he thirsted for revenge as might any traveler in a desert crave for
+water. His eyes, no longer sleepy, gleamed as he thought. His long,
+square jaws seemed welded into one as he thought of his wrongs. His was
+the vengeance which, if necessary, would last his lifetime. At least,
+whilst Lablache lived no quarter would he give or accept.</p>
+
+<p>Something of this he was thinking as he took his farewell of the ranch
+on the hill, and struck out in the direction of the half-breed camp
+situated in a hollow some distance outside the settlement of Foss
+River.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII" />CHAPTER XIII - THE FIRST CHECK</h2>
+
+
+<p>The afterglow of sunset slowly faded out of the western sky. And the
+hush of the night was over all. The feeling of an awful solitude, which
+comes to those whose business is to pass the night on the open prairie,
+is enhanced rather than reduced by the buzz of insect life upon the
+night air. The steady hum of the mosquito&mdash;the night song of the
+grasshoppers and frogs&mdash;the ticking, spasmodic call of the invisible
+beetles&mdash;all these things help to intensify the loneliness and magnitude
+of the wild surroundings. Nor does the smoldering camp-fire lessen the
+loneliness. Its very light deepens the surrounding dark, and its only
+use, after the evening meal is cooked, is merely to dispel the savage
+attack of the voracious mosquito and put the fear of man into the hearts
+of the prairie scavenger, the coyote, whose dismal howl awakens the
+echoes of the night at painfully certain intervals, and often drives
+sleep from the eyes of the weary traveler.</p>
+
+<p>It is rare that the &quot;cow-hand&quot; pitches his camp amongst hills, or in the
+neighborhood of any bushy growth. The former he shuns from a natural
+dislike for a limited view. The latter, especially if the bush takes the
+form of pine woods, is bad for many reasons, chief amongst which is the
+fact of its being the harborage of the savage, gigantic timber wolf&mdash;a
+creature as naturally truculent as the far-famed grizzly, the denizen of
+the towering Rockies.</p>
+
+<p>Upon a high level of the prairie, out towards the upper reaches of the
+Rainy River, a tributary of the broad, swift-flowing Foss River, and
+some fifteen miles from the settlement, two men were lounging, curled
+leisurely round the smoldering remains of a camp fire. Some distance
+away the occasional lowing of a cow betrayed the presence of a band of
+cattle.</p>
+
+<p>The men were wide awake and smoking. Whether they refrained from sleep
+through necessity or inclination matters little. Probably the hungry
+attacks of the newly-hatched mosquito were responsible for their
+wakefulness. Each man was wrapped in a single brown blanket, and folded
+saddle-cloth answered as a pillow, and it was noticeable that they were
+stretched out well to leeward of the fire, so that the smoke passed
+across them, driving away a few of the less audacious &quot;skitters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll get 'em in by dinner to-morrow,&quot; said one of the sleepless men
+thoughtfully. His remark was more in the tone of soliloquy than
+addressed to the other. Then louder, and in a manner which implied
+resentment, &quot;Them all-fired skitters is givin' me a twistin'.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Smoke up, pard,&quot; came a muffled rejoinder from the region of the other
+blanket &quot;Maybe your hide's a bit tender yet. I 'lows skitters 'most
+allus goes fur young 'uns. Guess I'm all right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dessay you are,&quot; replied the first speaker, sharply. &quot;I ain't been long
+in the country&mdash;leastways, not on the prairie, an' like as not I ain't
+dropped into the ways o' things. I've allus heerd as washin' is mighty
+bad when skitters is around. They doesn't worry you any.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He pulled heavily at his pipe until his face was enveloped in a fog of
+smoke. His companion's tone of patronage had nettled him. The old hand
+moved restlessly but did not answer. It is doubtful if the other's
+sarcasm had been observed. It was scarcely broad enough to penetrate the
+toughened hide of the older hand's susceptibilities.</p>
+
+<p>The silence was broken by a man's voice in the distance. The sound of an
+old familiar melody, chanted in a manly and not unmusical voice, reached
+the fireside. It was the voice of the man who was on watch round the
+band of cattle, and he was endeavoring to lull them into quiescence.
+The human voice, in the stillness of the night, has a somnolent effect
+upon cattle, and even mosquitoes, unless they are very thick, fail to
+counteract the effect. The older hand stirred. Then he sat up and
+methodically replenished the fire, kicking the dying embers together
+until they blazed afresh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jim Bowley do sing mighty sweet,&quot; he said, in disparaging tones. &quot;Like
+a crazy buzz-saw, I guess. S'pose them beasties is gettin' kind o'
+restless. Say, Nat, how goes the time? It must be night on ter your
+spell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Nat sat up and drew out a great silver watch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Haf an hour yet, pard.&quot; Then he proceeded to re-fill his pipe, cutting
+great flakes of black tobacco from a large plug with his sheath knife.
+Suddenly he paused in the operation and listened. &quot;Say, Jake, what's
+that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's what?&quot; replied Jake, roughly, preparing to lie down again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two men bent their keen, prairie-trained ears to windward. They
+listened intently. The night was very black&mdash;as yet the moon had not
+risen. Jake used his eyes as well as ears. On the prairie, as well as
+elsewhere, eyes have a lot to do with hearing. He sought to penetrate
+the darkness around him, but his efforts were unavailing. He could hear
+no sound but the voice of Jim Bowley and the steady plodding of his
+horse's feet as he ceaselessly circled the band of somnolent cattle. The
+sky was cloudy, and only here and there a few stars gleamed diamond-like
+in the heavens, but threw insufficient light to aid the eyes which
+sought to penetrate the surrounding gloom. The old hand threw himself
+back on his pillow in skeptical irritation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thar ain't nothin', young 'un,&quot; he said disdainfully. &quot;The beasties is
+quiet, and Jim Bowley ain't no tenderfoot. Say, them skitters 'as
+rattled yer. Guess you 'eard some prowlin' coyote. They allus come
+around whar ther's a tenderfoot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jake curled himself up again and chuckled at his own sneering
+pleasantry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Coyote yerself, Jake Bond,&quot; retorted Nat, angrily. &quot;Them lugs o' yours
+is gettin' old. Guess yer drums is saggin'. You're mighty smart, I don't
+think.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The youngster got on to his feet and walked to where the men's two
+horses were picketed. Both horses were standing with ears cocked and
+their heads held high in the direction of the mountains. Their attitude
+was the acme of alertness. As the man came up they turned towards him
+and whinnied as if in relief at the knowledge of his presence. But
+almost instantly turned again to gaze far out into the night. Wonderful
+indeed is a horse's instinct, but even more wonderful is the keenness of
+his sight and hearing.</p>
+
+<p>Nat patted his broncho on the neck, and then stood beside him
+watching&mdash;listening. Was it fancy, or was it fact? The faintest sound of
+a horse galloping reached him; at least, he thought so.</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the fire sullenly antagonistic. He did not return to his
+blanket, but sat silently smoking and thinking. He hated the constant
+reference to his inexperience on the prairie. If even he did hear a
+horse galloping in the distance it didn't matter. But it was his ears
+that had first caught the sound in spite of his inexperience. His
+companion pigheadedly derided the fact because his own ears were not
+sufficiently keen to have detected the sound himself.</p>
+
+<p>Thus he sat for a few minutes gazing into the fire. Jake was now snoring
+loudly, and Nat was glad to be relieved from the tones of his sneering
+voice. Presently he rose softly from his seat, and taking his saddle
+blanket, saddled and bridled his horse. Then he mounted and silently
+rode off towards the herd. It was his relief on the cattle guard.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Bowley welcomed him with the genial heartiness of a man who knows
+that he has finished his vigil and that he can now lie down to rest. The
+guarding of a large herd at night is always an anxious time. Cattle are
+strange things to handle. A stampede will often involve a week's weary
+scouring of the prairie.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Jim Bowley was about to ride up to the camp, Nat fired a
+question which he had been some time meditating.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you didn't hear a horse gallopin' jest now, pard?&quot; he asked
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why cert, boy,&quot; the other answered quickly, &quot;only a deaf mule could 'a'
+missed it. Some one passed right under the ridge thar, away to the
+southwest. Guess they wer' travelin' mighty fast too. Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, nothin', Jim, on'y I guess Jake Bond's that same deaf mule you
+spoke of. He's too fond of gettin' at youngsters, the old fossil. I told
+'im as I 'card suthin', an' 'e told me as I was a tenderfoot and didn't
+know wot I was gassin' about.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jake's a cantankerous cuss, boy. Let 'im gas; 'e don't cut any figger
+anyway. Say, you keep yer eye peeled on some o' the young heifers on the
+far side o' the bunch. They're rustlin' some. They keep mouching after
+new grass. When the moon gits up you'll see better. S'long, mate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jim rode away towards the camp fire, and young Nat proceeded to circle
+round the great herd of cattle. It was a mighty bunch for three men to
+handle. But Lablache, its owner, was never one to underwork his men.
+This was the herd which he had purchased at the sale of Bunning-Ford's
+ranch. And they were now being taken to his own ranch, some distance to
+the south of the settlement, for the purpose of re-branding with his own
+marks.</p>
+
+<p>As young Nat entered upon his vigil the golden arc of the rising moon
+broke the sky-line of the horizon. Already the clouds were fast
+clearing, being slowly driven before the yellow glory of the orb of
+night. Soon the prairie would be bathed in the effulgent, silvery light
+which renders the western night so delicious when the moon is at its
+full.</p>
+
+<p>As the cowboy circled the herd, the moon, at first directly to his left,
+slowly dropped behind until its, as yet, dull light shone full upon his
+back. The beasts were quite quiet and the sense of responsibility which
+was his, in a measure, lessened.</p>
+
+<p>Some distance ahead, and near by where' he must pass, a clump of
+undergrowth and a few stunted trees grew round the base of a hillock and
+broken rocks. The cattle were reposing close up by this shelter. Nat's
+horse, as he drew near to the brush, was ambling along at that peculiar
+gait, half walk, half trot, essentially the pace of a &quot;cow-horse.&quot;
+Suddenly the animal came to a stand, for which there seemed no apparent
+reason. He stood for a second with ears cocked, sniffing at the night
+air in evident alarm. Then a prolonged, low whistle split the air. The
+sound came from the other side of the rocks, and, to the tenderfoot's
+ears, constituted a signal.</p>
+
+<p>The most natural thing for him to have done would have been to wait for
+further developments, if developments there were to be. However, he was
+a plucky youngster, in spite of his inexperience, and, besides,
+something of the derision of Jake Bond was still rankling in his mind.
+He knew the whistle to be the effort of some man, and his discovery of
+the individual would further prove the accuracy of his hearing, and he
+would then have the laugh of his companion. A more experienced hand
+would have first looked to his six-shooter and thought of cattle
+thieves, but, as Jake had said, he was a tenderfoot. Instead, without a
+moment's hesitation, he dashed his spurs into his broncho's flanks and
+swept round to the shadowed side of the rocks.</p>
+
+<p>He realized his folly when too late. The moment he entered the shade
+there came the slithering whirr of something cutting through the air.
+Something struck the horse's front legs, and the next moment he shot out
+of the saddle in response to a somersault which the broncho turned. His
+horse had been roped by one of his front legs. The cowboy lay where he
+fell, dazed and half stunned. Then he became aware of three dark faces
+bending over him. An instant later a gag was forced into his mouth, and
+he felt himself being bound hand and foot. Then the three faces silently
+disappeared, and all was quiet about him.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, on the rising ground, where the camp fire burned, all
+was calm slumber. The two old hands were taking their rest with healthy
+contentment and noisy assertion. The glory of the rising moon was lost
+to the slumberers, and no dread of coming disaster disturbed them. The
+stertorous blasts of their nostrils testified to this. The replenished
+fire slowly died down to a mass of white smoldering ashes, and the
+chill-growing air caused one of the sleepers to move restlessly in his
+sleep and draw his head down beneath his blanket for greater warmth.</p>
+
+<p>Up the slope came three figures. They were moving with cautious,
+stealthy step, the movement of men whose purpose is not open. On they
+came swiftly&mdash;silently. One man led; he was tall and swarthy with long
+black hair falling upon his shoulders in straight, coarse mass. He was
+evidently a half-breed, and his clothes denoted him to be of the poorer
+class&mdash;a class accustomed to live by preying upon its white neighbors.
+He was clad in a pair of moleskin trousers, which doubtless at one time
+had been white, but which now were of that nondescript hue which dirt
+conveys. His upper garments were a beaded buckskin shirt and a battered
+Stetson hat. Around his waist was a cartridge belt, on which was slung a
+holster containing a heavy six-chambered revolver and a long sheath
+knife.</p>
+
+<p>His companions were similarly equipped, and the three formed a wild
+picture of desperate resolve. Yard by yard they drew toward the
+sleepers, at each step listening for the loud indications of sleep which
+were made only too apparent upon the still night air. Now they were
+close upon the fire. One of the unconscious cow-boys, Jim Bowley,
+stirred. A moment passed. Then the intruders drew a step nearer.
+Suddenly Jim roused and then sat up. His action at once became a signal.
+There was a sound of swift footsteps, and the next instant the
+astonished man was gazing into the muzzle of a heavy pistol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hands up!&quot; cried the voice of the leading half-breed. One of his
+followers had similarly covered the half-awakened Jake.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word of remonstrance two pairs of hands went up. Astonishment
+had for the moment paralyzed speech on the part of the rudely awakened
+sleepers. They were only dimly conscious of their assailants. The
+compelling rings of metal that confronted them weighed the balance of
+their judgment, and their response was the instinctive response of the
+prairie. Whoever their assailants, they had got the drop on them. The
+result was the law of necessity.</p>
+
+<p>In depressing silence the assailants drew their captives' weapons. Then,
+after binding their arms, the leader bade them rise. His voice was harsh
+and his accent &quot;South-western&quot; American. Then he ordered them to march,
+the inexorable pistol ever present to enforce obedience. In silence the
+two men were conducted to the bush where the first capture had been
+made. And here they were firmly tied to separate trees with their own
+lariats.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar,&quot; said the tall half-breed, as the captives' feet were bound
+securely. &quot;There ain't goin' to be no shootin'. You're that sensible.
+You're jest goin' to remain right hyar till daylight, or mebbe later. A
+gag'll prevent your gassin'. You're right in the track of white men, so
+I guess you'll do. See hyar, bo', jest shut it,&quot; as Jim Bowley essayed
+to speak, &quot;cause my barker's itchin' to join in a conversation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The threat had a quieting effect upon poor Jim, who immediately closed
+his lips. Silent but watchful he eyed the half-breed's face. There was
+something very familiar about the thin cheeks, high cheek-bones, and
+about the great hooked nose. He was struggling hard to locate the man.
+At this moment the third ruffian approached with three horses. The other
+had been busy fixing a gag in Jake Bond's mouth. Jim Bowley saw the
+horses come up. And, in the now brilliant moonlight, he beheld and
+recognized a grand-looking golden chestnut. There was no mistaking that
+glorious beast. Jim was no tenderfoot; he had been on the prairie in
+this district for years. And although he had never come into actual
+contact with the man, he had seen him and knew about the exploits of the
+owner of that perfect animal.</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed approached him with an improvised gag. For the life of
+him Jim could not resist a temptation which at that moment assailed him.
+The threatening attitude of his captor for the instant had lost its
+effect. If he died for it he must blurt out his almost superstitious
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed seized his prisoner's lower jaw in his hand and
+compressed the cheeks upon the teeth. Jim's lips parted, and a horrified
+amazement found vent in words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Holy Gawd! man. But be ye flesh or sperrit? Peter Retief&mdash;as I'm a
+livin'&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He said no more, for, with a wrench, the gag was forced into his mouth
+by the relentless hand of the man before him. Although he was thus
+silenced his eyes remained wide open and staring. The dark stern face,
+as he saw it, was magnified into that of a fiend. The keen eyes and
+depressed brows, he thought, might belong to some devil re-incarnated,
+whilst the eagle-beaked nose and thin-compressed lips denoted, to his
+distorted fancy, a sanguinary cruelty. At the mention of his name this
+forbidding apparition flashed a vengeful look at the speaker, and a half
+smile of utter disdain flickered unnoticed around the corners of his
+mouth.</p>
+
+<p>Once his prisoners were secured the dark-visaged cattle-thief turned to
+the horses. At a word the trio mounted. Then they rode off, and the
+wretched captives beheld, to their unspeakable dismay, the consummate
+skill with which the cattle were roused and driven off. Away they went
+with reckless precipitance, the cattle obeying the master hand of the
+celebrated raider with an implicitness which seemed to indicate a
+strange sympathy between man and beast. The great golden chestnut raced
+backwards and forwards like some well-trained greyhound, heading the
+leading beasts into the desired direction without effort or apparent
+guidance. It was a grand display of the cowboy's art, and, in spite of
+his predicament and the cruel tightness of his bonds, Jim Bowley reveled
+in the sight of such a display.</p>
+
+<p>In five minutes the great herd was out of sight, and only the distant
+rumble of their speeding hoofs reached the captives. Later, the moon, no
+longer golden, but shedding a silvery radiance over all, shone down upon
+a peaceful plain. The night hum of insects was undisturbed. The mournful
+cry of the coyote echoed at intervals, but near by, where the camp fire
+no longer put the fear of man into the hearts of the scavengers of the
+prairie, all was still and calm. The prisoners moaned softly, but not
+loud enough to disturb the peace of the perfect night, as their cruel
+bonds gnawed at their patience. For the rest, the Western world had
+resumed its wonted air.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV" />CHAPTER XIV - THE HUE AND CRY</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;A thousand head of cattle, John! A thousand; and 'hustled' from under
+our very noses. By thunder! it is intolerable. Over thirty-five thousand
+dollars gone in one clean sweep. Why, I say, do we pay for the up-keep
+of the police if this sort of thing is allowed to go on? It is
+disgraceful. It means ruination to the country if a man cannot run his
+stock without fear of molestation. Who said that scoundrel Retief was
+dead&mdash;drowned in the great muskeg? It's all poppy-cock, I tell you; the
+man's as much alive as you or I. Thirty-five thousand dollars! By
+heavens!&mdash;it's&mdash;it's scandalous!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache leant forward heavily in his chair and rested his great arms
+upon John Allandale's desk. &quot;Poker&quot; John and he were seated in the
+former's office, whither the money-lender had come, post-haste, on
+receiving the news of the daring raid of the night before. The great
+man's voice was unusually thick with rage, and his asthmatical breathing
+came in great gusts as his passionate excitement grew under the lash of
+his own words. The old rancher gazed in stupefied amazement at the
+financier. He had not as yet fully realized the fact with which he had
+just been acquainted in terms of such sweeping passion. The old man's
+brain was none too clear in the mornings now. And the suddenness of the
+announcement had shocked his faculties into a state of chaos.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Terrible&mdash;terrible,&quot; was all he was able to murmur. Then, bracing
+himself, he asked weakly, &quot;But what are you to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The weather-beaten old face was working nervously. The eyes, in the
+past keen and direct in their glance, were bloodshot and troubled. He
+looked like a man who was fast breaking up. Very different from the
+night when we first met him at the Calford Polo Club ball. There could
+be no doubt as to the origin of this swift change. The whole atmosphere
+of the man spoke of drink.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache turned on him without any attempt to conceal the latent
+ferocity of his nature. The heavy, pouchy jowl was scarlet with his
+rage. The money-lender had been flicked upon a very raw and tender spot.
+Money was his god.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What am I to do?&quot; he retorted savagely. &quot;What are <i>we</i> to do? What is
+all the ranching world of Alberta to do? Why, fight, man. Hound this
+scoundrel to his lair. Follow him&mdash;track him. Hunt him from bush to bush
+until we fall upon him and tear him limb from limb. Are we going to sit
+still while he terrorizes the whole country? While he 'hustles' every
+head of stock from us, and&mdash;and spirits it away? No, if we spend
+fortunes upon his capture we must not rest until he swings from a gibbet
+at the end of his own lariat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, of course&mdash;of course,&quot; the rancher responded, his cheek twitching
+weakly. &quot;You are quite right, we must hunt this scoundrel down. But we
+know what has gone before&mdash;I mean, before he was supposed to have died.
+The man could never be traced. He seemed to vanish into thin air. What
+do you propose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, but that was two years ago,&quot; said Lablache, moodily. &quot;Things may
+be different now. A thousand head of cattle does not vanish so easily.
+There is bound to be some trace left behind. And then, the villain has
+only got a short start of us. I sent a messenger over to Stormy Cloud
+Settlement the first thing this morning. A sergeant and four men will be
+sent to work up the case. I expect them here at any moment. As justices
+of the peace it devolves on both of us to set an example to the
+settlers, and we shall then receive hearty co-operation. You understand,
+John,&quot; the money-lender went on, with pompous assertiveness, &quot;although,
+at present, I am the chief sufferer by this scoundrel's depredations, it
+is plainly your duty as much as mine to take this matter up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The first rough storm of Lablache's passion had passed. He was &quot;yanking&quot;
+himself up to the proper attitude for the business in hand. Although he
+had calmed considerably his lashless eyes gleamed viciously, and his
+flabby face wore an expression which boded ill for the object of his
+rage, should that unfortunate ever come within the range of his power.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was struggling hard to bring a once keen intellect to bear
+upon the affair. He had listened to the money-lender's account of the
+raid with an almost doubtful understanding, the chief shock to which was
+the re-appearance of the supposed dead Retief, that prince of
+&quot;hustlers,&quot; who, two years ago, had terrorized the neighborhood by his
+impudent raids. At last his mind seemed to clear and he stood up. And,
+bending across the desk as though to emphasize his words, he showed
+something of the old spirit which had, in days gone by, made him a
+successful rancher.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't believe it, Lablache. This is some damned yarn to cover the
+real culprit. Why, man, Peter Retief is buried deep in that reeking keg,
+and no slapsided galoot's goin' to pitch such a crazy notion as his
+resurrection down my throat. Retief? Why, I'd as lief hear that Satan
+himself was abroad duffing cattle. Bah! Where's the 'hand' that's gulled
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache eyed the old man curiously. He was not sure that there might
+not be some truth in the rancher's forcible skepticism. For the moment
+the old man's words carried some weight, then, as he remembered the
+unvarnished tale the cowboy had told, he returned to his conviction. He
+shook his massive head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No one has gulled me, John. You shall hear the story for yourself as
+soon as the police arrive. You will the better be able to judge of the
+fellow's sincerity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the sound of horses' hoofs came in through the open
+window. Lablache glanced out on to the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, here he is, and I'm glad to see they've sent Sergeant Horrocks. The
+very man for the work. Good,&quot; and he rubbed his fat hands together.
+&quot;Horrocks is a great prairie man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John rose and went out to meet the officer. Later he conducted
+him into the office. Sergeant Horrocks was a man of medium height,
+slightly built, but with an air of cat-like agility about him. He was
+very bronzed, with a sharp, rather than a clever face. His eyes were
+black and restless, and a thin mouth, hidden beneath a trim black
+mustache, and a perfectly-shaped aquiline nose, completed the sum of any
+features which might be called distinctive. He was a man who was
+thoroughly adapted to his work&mdash;work which needed a cool head and quick
+eye rather than great mental attainments. He was dressed in a brown
+canvas tunic with brass buttons, and his riding breeches were concealed
+in, a pair of well-worn leather &quot;chaps.&quot; A Stetson hat worn at the exact
+angle on his head, with his official &quot;side arms&quot; secured round his
+waist, completed a very picturesque appearance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Morning, Horrocks,&quot; said the money-lender. &quot;This is a pretty business
+you've come down on. Left your men down in the settlement, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. I thought I'd come and hear the rights of the matter straight
+away. According to your message you are the chief victim of this
+'duffing' business?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Exactly,&quot; replied Lablache, with a return to his tone of anger, &quot;one
+thousand head of beeves! Thirty-five thousand dollars' worth!&quot; Then he
+went on more calmly: &quot;But wait a moment, we'll send down for the 'hand'
+that brought in the news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A servant was despatched, and a few minutes later Jim Bowley entered.
+Jacky, returning from the corrals, entered at the same time. Directly
+she had seen the police horse outside she knew what was happening. When
+she appeared Lablache endeavored to conceal a look of annoyance.
+Sergeant Horrocks raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was not accustomed
+to petticoats being present at his councils. John, however, without
+motive, waived all chance of objection by anticipating his guests.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sergeant, this is my niece, Jacky. Affairs of the prairie affect her as
+nearly as they do myself. Let us hear what this man has to tell us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks half bowed to the girl, touching the brim of his hat with a
+semi-military salute. Acquiescence to her presence was thus forced upon
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky looked radiant in spite of the uncouthness of her riding attire.
+The fresh morning air was the tonic she loved, and, as yet, the day was
+too young for the tired shadows to have crept into her beautiful face.
+Horrocks, in spite of his tacit objection, was forced to admire the
+sturdy young face of this child of the prairie.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Bowley plunged into his story with a directness and simplicity which
+did not fail to carry conviction. He told all he knew without any
+attempt at shielding himself or his companions. Horrocks and the old
+rancher listened carefully to the story. Lablache looked for
+discrepancies but found none. Jacky, whilst paying every attention,
+keenly watched the face of the money-lender. The seriousness of the
+affair was reflected in all the faces present, whilst the daring of the
+raid was acknowledged by the upraised brows and wondering ejaculations
+which occasionally escaped the police-officer and &quot;Poker&quot; John. When the
+narrative came to a close there followed an impressive pause. Horrocks
+was the first to break it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And how did you obtain your release?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A Mennonite family, which had bin travelin' all night, came along 'bout
+an hour after daylight. They pitched camp nigh on to a quarter mile from
+the bluff w'ere we was tied up. Then they came right along to look fur
+kindlin'. There wasn't no other bluff for half a mile but ours. They
+found us all three. Young Nat 'ad got 'is collar-bone broke. Them
+'ustlers 'adn't lifted our 'plugs' so I jest came right in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you seen these Mennonites?&quot; asked the officer, turning sharply to
+the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not yet,&quot; was the heavy rejoinder. &quot;But they are coming in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The significance of the question and the reply nettled the cowboy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar, mister, I ain't no coyote come in to pitch yarns. Wot I've
+said is gospel. The man as 'eld us up was Peter Retief as sure as I'm a
+living man. Sperrits don't walk about the prairie 'ustling cattle, an' I
+guess 'is 'and was an a'mighty solid one, as my jaw felt when 'e gagged
+me. You take it from me, 'e's come around agin to make up fur lost time,
+an' I guess 'e's made a tidy haul to start with.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, we'll allow that this man is the hustler you speak of,&quot; went on
+Horrocks, bending his keen eyes severely on the unfortunate cowboy.
+&quot;Now, what about tracking the cattle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I didn't wait fur that, but it'll be easy 'nough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, and you didn't recognize the man until you'd seen his horse?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The officer spoke sharply, like a counsel cross-examining a witness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wal, I can't say like that,&quot; said Jim, hesitating for the first time.
+&quot;His looks was familiar, I 'lows. No, without knowing of it I'd
+recognized 'im, but 'is name didn't come along till I see that beast,
+Golden Eagle. I 'lows a good prairie hand don't make no mistake over
+cattle like that. 'E may misgive a face, but a beastie&mdash;no, siree.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you base your recognition of the man on the identity of his horse. A
+doubtful assertion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thar ain't no doubt in my mind, sergeant. Ef you'll 'ave it so, I
+did&mdash;some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The officer turned to the other men.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If there's nothing more you want this man for, gentlemen, I have quite
+finished with him&mdash;for the present. With your permission,&quot; pulling out
+his watch, &quot;I'll get him to take me to the er&mdash;scene of disaster in an
+hour's time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two men nodded and Lablache conveyed the necessary order to the man,
+who then withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Bowley had left the room three pairs of eyes were turned
+inquiringly upon the officer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; questioned Lablache, with some show of eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks shrugged a pair of expressive shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;From his point of view the man speaks the truth,&quot; he replied
+decisively. &quot;And,&quot; he went on, more to himself than to the others, &quot;we
+never had any clear proof that the scoundrel, Retief, came to grief.
+From what I remember things were very hot for him at the time of his
+disappearance. Maybe the man's right. However,&quot; turning to the others,
+&quot;I should not be surprised if Mr. Retief has overreached himself this
+time. A thousand head of cattle cannot easily be hidden, or, for that
+matter, disposed of. Neither can they travel fast; and as for tracking,
+well,&quot; with a shrug, &quot;in this case it should be child's play.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope it will prove as you anticipate,&quot; put in John Allandale,
+concisely. &quot;What you suggest has been experienced by us before. However,
+the matter, I feel sure, is in capable hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The officer acknowledged the compliment mechanically. He was thinking
+deeply. Lablache struggled to his feet, and, supporting his bulk with
+one hand resting upon the desk, gasped out his final words upon the
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I want you to remember, sergeant, this matter not only affects me
+personally but also in my capacity as a justice of the peace. To
+whatever reward I am able to make in the name of H.M. Government I shall
+add the sum of one thousand dollars for the recovery of the cattle, and
+the additional sum of one thousand dollars for the capture of the
+miscreant himself. I have determined to spare no expense in the matter
+of hunting this devil,&quot; with vindictive intensity, &quot;down, therefore you
+can draw on me for all outlay your work may entail. All I say is,
+capture him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall do my best, Mr. Lablache,&quot; Horrocks replied simply. &quot;And now,
+if you will permit me, I will go down to the settlement to give a few
+orders to my men. Good-morning&mdash;er&mdash;Miss Allandale; good day, gentlemen.
+You will hear from me to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The officer left in all the pride of his official capacity. And possibly
+his pride was not without reason, for many and smart were the captures
+of evil-doers he had made during his career as a keeper of the peace.
+But we have been told that &quot;pride goeth before a fall.&quot; His estimation
+of a &quot;hustler&quot; was not an exalted one. He was accustomed to dealing with
+men who shoot quick and straight&mdash;&quot;bad men&quot; in fact&mdash;and he was equally
+quick with the gun, and a dead shot himself. Possibly he was a shade
+quicker and a trifle more deadly than the smartest &quot;bad man&quot; known, but
+now he was dealing with a man of all these necessary attainments and
+whose resourcefulness and cleverness were far greater than his own.
+Sergeant Horrocks had a harder road to travel than he anticipated.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache took his departure shortly afterwards, and &quot;Poker&quot; John and his
+niece were left in sole possession of the office at the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked thoroughly wearied with the mental effort the
+interview had entailed upon him. And Jacky, watching him, could not help
+noticing how old her uncle looked. She had been a silent observer in the
+foregoing scene, her presence almost ignored by the other actors. Now,
+however, that they were left alone, the old man turned a look of
+appealing helplessness upon her. Such was the rancher's faith in this
+wild, impetuous girl that he looked for her judgment on what had passed
+in that room with the ready faith of one who regards her as almost
+infallible, where human intellect is needed. Nor was the girl, herself,
+slow to respond to his mute inquiry. The swiftness of her answer
+enhanced the tone of her conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Set a thief to catch a thief, Uncle John. I guess Horrocks, in spite of
+his shifty black eyes, isn't the man for the business. He might track
+the slimmest neche that ever crossed the back of a choyeuse. Lablache is
+the man Retief has to fear. That uncrowned monarch of Foss River is
+subtle, and subtlety alone will serve. Horrocks?&quot; with fine disdain.
+&quot;Say, you can't shoot snipe with a pea-shooter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so,&quot; replied John, with weary thoughtlessness. &quot;Do you know,
+child, I can't help feeling a strange satisfaction that this Retief's
+victim is Lablache. But there, one never knows, when such a man is
+about, who will be the next to suffer. I suppose we must take our chance
+and trust to the protection of the police.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl had walked to the window and now stood framed in the casement
+of it. She turned her face back towards the old man as he finished
+speaking, and a quiet little smile hovered round the corners of her
+fresh ripe lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't think Retief will bother us any&mdash;at least, he never did before.
+Somehow I don't think he's an ordinary rascal.&quot; She turned back to the
+window. &quot;Hulloa, I guess Bill's coming right along up the avenue.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A moment later &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, lazily cheerful as was his wont, stepped in
+through the open French window. The selling up of his ranch seemed to
+have made little difference to his philosophical temperament. In his
+appearance, perhaps, for now he no longer wore the orthodox dress of the
+rancher. He was clad in a tweed lounging suit, and a pair of
+well-polished, brown leather boots. His headgear alone pertained to the
+prairie. It was a Stetson hat. He was smoking a cigarette as he came up,
+but he threw the insidious weed from him as he entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Morning, John. How are you, Jacky? I needn't ask you if you have heard
+the news. I saw Sergeant Horrocks and old Shylock leaving your veranda.
+Hot lot&mdash;isn't it? And all Lablache's cattle, too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A look of deep concern was on his keen face. Lablache might have been
+his dearest friend. Jacky smiled over at him. &quot;Poker&quot; John looked
+pained.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you're right, Bill,&quot; said the rancher. &quot;Hot&mdash;very hot. I pity the
+poor devil if Lablache lays a hand on him. Excuse me, boy, I'm going
+down to the barn. We've got a couple of ponies we're breaking to
+harness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man departed. The others watched the burly figure as he passed
+out of the door. His whole personality seemed shrunken of late. The old
+robustness seemed a thing of the past. The last two months seemed to
+have put ten years of ageing upon the kindly old man. Jacky sighed as
+the door closed behind him, and there was no smile in her eyes as she
+turned again to her lover. Bill's face had become serious.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; in a tone of almost painful anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>The girl had started forward and was leaning with her two brown hands
+upon the back of a chair. Her face was pale beneath her tan, and her
+eyes were bright with excitement. For answer, Bunning-Ford stepped to
+the French window and closed it, having first glanced up and down the
+veranda to see that it was empty. Not a soul was in sight. The tall
+pines, which lined the approach to the house, waved silently in the
+light breeze. The clear sky was gloriously blue. On everything was the
+peace of summer.</p>
+
+<p>The man swung round and came towards the girl. His eagle face was lit up
+by an expression of triumph. He held out his two hands, and the girl
+placed her own brown ones in them. He drew her towards him and embraced
+her in silence. Then he moved a little away from her. His gleaming eyes
+indexed the activity of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The cattle are safe&mdash;as houses. It was a grand piece of work, dear.
+They would never have faced the path without your help. Say, girlie, I'm
+an infant at handling stock compared with you. Now&mdash;what news?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was smiling tenderly into the strong face of the man. She could
+not help but wonder at the reckless daring of this man, who so many set
+down as a lazy good-for-nothing. She knew&mdash;she had always known, she
+fancied&mdash;the strong character which underlay that indolent exterior. It
+never appealed to her to regret the chance that had driven him to use
+his abilities in such a cause. There was too much of the wild half-breed
+blood in her veins to allow her to stop to consider the
+might-have-beens. She gloried in his daring, and something of the spirit
+which had caused her to help her half-brother now forced from her an
+almost worshiping adoration for her lover.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Horrocks is to spare no expense in tracking&mdash;Retief&mdash;down.&quot; She laughed
+silently. &quot;Lablache is to pay. They are going over the old ground again,
+I guess. The tracks of the cattle. Horrocks is not to be feared. We must
+watch Lablache. He will act. Horrocks will only be his puppet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill pondered before he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; he said thoughtfully at last, &quot;that is the best of news. The very
+best. Horrocks can track. He is one of the best at that game. But I have
+taken every precaution. Tracking is useless&mdash;waste of time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know that from past experience, Bill. Now that the campaign has
+begun, what is the next move?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl was all eagerness. Her beautiful dark face was no longer pale.
+It was aglow with the enthusiasm of her feelings. Her deep, meaning eyes
+burned with a consuming brilliancy. Framed in its setting of curling,
+raven hair, her face would have rejoiced the heart of the old masters of
+the Van Dyke school. She was wondrously beautiful. Bill gazed upon her
+features with devouring eyes, and thoughts of the wrongs committed by
+Lablache against her and hers teemed through his brain and set his blood
+surging through his veins in a manner that threatened to overbalance his
+usual cool judgment. He forced himself to an outward calmness, however,
+and the lazy tones of his voice remained as easy as ever.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On the result of the next move much will depend,&quot; he said. &quot;It is to be
+a terrific <i>coup</i>, and will entail careful planning. It is fortunate
+that the people at the half-breed camp are the friends of&mdash;of&mdash;Retief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and of mine,&quot; put in the girl. Then she added slowly, and as
+though with painful thought, &quot;Say, Bill, be&mdash;be careful. I guess you are
+all I have in the world&mdash;you and uncle. Do you know, I've kind of seen
+to the end of this racket. Maybe there's trouble coming. Who's to be
+lagged I can't say. There are shadows around, Bill; the place fairly
+hums with 'em. Say, don't&mdash;don't give Lablache a slant at you. I can't
+spare you, Bill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tall thin figure of her companion stepped over towards her, and she
+felt herself encircled by his long powerful arms. Then he bent down from
+his great height and kissed her passionately upon the lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Take comfort, little girl. This is a war, if necessary, to the death.
+Should anything happen to me, you may be sure that I leave you freed
+from the snares of old Shylock. Yes, I will be careful, Jacky. We are
+playing for a heavy stake. You may trust me.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV" />CHAPTER XV - AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lablache was not a man of variable moods. He was too strong; his purpose
+in life was too strong for any vacillation of temper. His one aim&mdash;his
+whole soul&mdash;was wrapt in a craving for money-making and the inevitable
+power which the accumulation of great wealth must give him. In all his
+dealings he was perfectly&mdash;at least outwardly&mdash;calm, and he never
+allowed access to anger to thwart his ends. An inexorable purpose
+governed his actions to an extent which, while his feelings might
+undergo paroxysms of acute changes, never permitted him to make a false
+move or to show his hand prematurely. But this latest reverse had upset
+him more than he had ever been upset in his life, and all the great
+latent force of his character had suddenly, as it were, been
+precipitated into a torrent of ungovernable fury. He had been wounded
+deeply in the most vulnerable spot in his composition. Thirty-five
+thousands of his precious dollars ruthlessly torn from his capacious and
+retentive money-bags. Truly it was a cruel blow, and one well calculated
+to disturb the even tenor of his complacency.</p>
+
+<p>Thought was very busy within that massive head as he lumped heavily
+along from John Allandale's house in the direction of his own store.
+Some slight satisfaction was his at the reflection of the prompt
+assistance he had obtained from the police. It was the satisfaction of a
+man who lived by the assistance of the law, of a man who, in his own
+inordinate arrogance, considered that the law was made for such as he,
+to the detriment of those who attempt to thwart the rich man's purpose.
+He knew Horrocks to be capable, and although he did not place too much
+reliance on that astute prairie-man's judgment&mdash;he always believed in
+his own judgment first&mdash;still, he knew that he could not have obtained
+better assistance, and was therefore as content as circumstances would
+permit. That he was sanguine of recovering his property was doubtful.
+Lablache never permitted himself the luxury of optimism. He set himself
+a task and worked steadily on to the required end. So he had decided
+now. He did not permit himself to dwell on the desired result, or to
+anticipate. He would simply leave no stone unturned to bring about the
+recovery of his stolen property.</p>
+
+<p>He moved ponderously along over the smooth dusty road, and at last
+reached the market-place. The settlement was drowsily quiet. Life of a
+sort was apparent but it was chiefly &quot;animal.&quot; The usual number of dogs
+were moving about, or peacefully basking in the sun; a few saddle horses
+were standing with dejected air, hitched to various tying-posts. A
+buckboard and team was standing outside his own door. The sound of the
+smith's hammer falling upon the anvil sounded plaintively upon the
+calmness of the sleepy village. In spite of the sensational raid of the
+night before, Foss River displayed no unusual activity.</p>
+
+<p>At length the great man reached his office, and threw himself, with
+great danger to his furniture, into his capacious wicker chair. He was
+in no mood for business. Instead he gazed long and thoughtfully out of
+his office window. What somber, vengeful thoughts were teeming through
+his brain would be hard to tell, his mask-like face betrayed nothing.
+His sphinx-like expression was a blank.</p>
+
+<p>In this way half an hour and more passed. Then his attention became
+fixed upon a tall figure sauntering slowly towards the settlement from
+the direction of Allandale's ranch. In a moment Lablache had stirred
+himself, and a pair of field-glasses were leveled at the unconscious
+pedestrian. A moment later an exclamation of annoyance broke from the
+money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Curse the man! Am I never to be rid of this damned Englishman?&quot; He
+stood now gazing malevolently at the tall figure of the Hon.
+Bunning-Ford, who was leisurely making his way towards the village. For
+the time being the channel of Lablache's thoughts had changed its
+direction. He had hoped, in foreclosing his mortgages on the
+Englishman's property, to have rid Foss River of the latter's, to him,
+hateful presence. But since misfortune had come upon &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, the
+Allandales and he had become closer friends than ever. This effort had
+been one of the money-lender's few failures, and failure galled him with
+a bitterness the recollection of which no success could eliminate. The
+result was a greater hatred for the object of his vengeance, and a
+lasting determination to rid Foss River of the Englishman forever. And
+so he remained standing and watching until, at length, the entrance of
+one of his clerks, to announce that the saloon dinner-time was at hand,
+brought him out of his cruel reverie, and he set off in quest of the
+needs of his inner man, a duty which nothing, of whatever importance,
+was allowed to interfere with.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, Horrocks, or, as he was better known amongst his
+comrades, &quot;the Ferret,&quot; was hot upon the trail of the lost cattle.
+Horrocks bristled with energy at every point, and his men, working with
+him, had reason to be aware of the fact. It was an old saying amongst
+them that when &quot;the Ferret&quot; was let loose there was no chance of bits
+rusting. In other words, his mileage report to his chiefs would be a
+long one.</p>
+
+<p>As the sergeant anticipated, it was child's play to track the stolen
+herd. The tracks left by the fast-driven cattle was apparent to the
+veriest greenhorn, and Horrocks and his men were anything but
+greenhorns.</p>
+
+<p>Long before evening closed in they had followed the footprints right
+down to the edge of the great muskeg, and already Horrocks anticipated a
+smart capture. But his task seemed easier than it really was. On the
+brink of the keg the tracks became confused. With some difficulty the
+sleuth instincts of these accomplished trackers led them to follow the
+marks for a mile and a half along the edge of the mire, then, it seemed,
+the herd had been turned and driven with great speed back on their
+tracks. But worse confusion became apparent; and &quot;the Ferret&quot; soon
+realized that the herd had been driven up and down along the border of
+the great keg with a view to evading further pursuit. So frequently had
+this been done that it was impossible to further trace the stock, and
+the sun was already sinking when Horrocks dismounted, and with him his
+men were at last forced to acknowledge defeat.</p>
+
+<p>He had come to a standstill with a stretch of a mile and a half of
+cattle tracks before him. There was no sign further than this of where
+the beasts had been driven. The keg itself gave no clew. It was as green
+and trackless as ever, and again on the land side there was not a single
+foot-print beyond the confused marks along the quagmire's dangerous
+border.</p>
+
+<p>The work of covering retreat had been carried out by a master hand, and
+Horrocks was not slow to acknowledge the cleverness of the raider. With
+all one good prairie man's appreciation for another he detected a foeman
+worthy of his steel, and he warmed to the problem set out before him.
+The troopers waited for their superior's instructions. As &quot;the Ferret&quot;
+did not speak one of the men commented aloud.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Smart work, sergeant,&quot; he said quietly. &quot;I'm not surprised that this
+fellow rode roughshod over the district for so long and escaped all who
+were sent to nab him. He's clever, is P. Retief, Esq.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks was looking out across the great keg. Strangely enough they had
+halted within twenty yards of the willow bush, at which point the secret
+path across the mire began. The man with the gold chevrons upon his arm
+ignored the remark of his companion, but answered with words which
+occurred in his own train of thought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's plain enough, I guess. Yonder is the direction taken by the
+cattle,&quot; he said, nodding his head towards the distant peaks of the
+mountains beyond. &quot;But who's got the nerve to follow 'em? Say,&quot; he went
+on sharply, &quot;somewhere along this bank, I mean in the mile and a half of
+hoof marks, there's a path turns out, or, at least, firm ground by which
+it is possible to cross this devil's keg. It must be so. Cattle can't be
+spirited away. Unless, of course&mdash;but no, a man don't duff cattle to
+drown 'em in a swamp. They've crossed this pernicious mire, boys. We may
+nab our friend, Retief, but we'll never clap eyes on those beasts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's the same old business over again, sergeant,&quot; said one of the
+troopers. &quot;I was on this job before, and I reckon we landed hereabouts
+every time we lit on Retief's trail. But we never got no further. Yonder
+keg is a mighty hard nut to crack. I guess the half-breed's got the
+bulge on us. If path across the mire there is he knows it and we don't,
+and, as you say, who's goin' to follow him?&quot; Having delivered himself of
+these sage remarks he stepped to the brink of the mire and put his foot
+heavily upon its surface. His top-boot sank quickly through the yielding
+crust, and the black subsoil rose with oily, sucking action, 'and his
+foot was immediately buried out of sight. He drew it out sharply, a
+shudder of horror quickening his action. Strong man and hardy as he was,
+the muskeg inspired him with a superstitious terror. &quot;Guess there ain't
+no following them beasties through that, sergeant. Leastways, not for
+me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks had watched his subordinate's action thoughtfully. He knew,
+without showing, that no man or beast could attempt to cross the mire
+with any hope of success without the knowledge of some secret path. That
+such a path, or paths, existed he believed, for many were the stories of
+how criminals in past days escaped prairie law by such means. However,
+he had no knowledge of any such paths himself, and he had no intention
+of sacrificing his life uselessly in an attempt to discover the keg's
+most jealously guarded secret.</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to his horse and prepared to vault into the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's no use, boys. We are done for to-day. You can ride back to the
+settlement. I have another little matter on hand. If any of you see
+Lablache just tell him I shall join him in about two hours' time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks rode off and his four troopers headed towards the Foss River.</p>
+
+<p>Despite the fact that his horse had been under the saddle for nearly
+eight hours Horrocks rode at a great pace. He was one of those men who
+are always to be found on the prairie&mdash;thorough horsemen. Men who, in
+times of leisure, care more for their horses than they do for
+themselves; men who regard their horses as they would a comrade, but
+who, when it becomes a necessity to work or travel, demand every effort
+the animal can make by way of return for the care which has been
+lavished upon it. Such men generally find themselves well repaid. A
+horse is something more than a creature with four legs, one at each
+corner, head out of one end, tail out of the other. There is an old
+saying in the West to the effect that a thorough horseman is worthy of
+man's esteem. The opinion amongst prairie men is that a man who loves
+his horse can never be wholly bad. And possibly we can accept this
+decision upon the subject without question, for their experience in men,
+especially in &quot;bad men,&quot; is wide and varied.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks avoided the settlement, leaving it well to the west, and turned
+his willing beast in the direction of the half-breed camp. There was an
+ex-Government scout living in this camp whom he knew; a man who was
+willing to sell to his late employers any information he chanced to
+possess. It was the officer's intention to see this man and purchase all
+he had to sell, if it happened to be worth buying. Hence his visit to
+the camp.</p>
+
+<p>The evening shadows were fast lengthening when he espied in the distance
+the squalid shacks and dilapidated teepees of the Breeds. There was a
+large colony of those wanderers of the West gathered together in the
+Foss River camp. We have said that these places are hot-beds of crime, a
+curse to the country; but that description scarcely conveys the wretched
+poverty and filthiness of these motley gatherings. From a slight rising
+ground Horrocks looked down on what might have, at first sight, been
+taken for a small village. A scattering of small tumbled-down shacks,
+about fifty in number, set out on the fresh green of the prairie,
+created the first blot of uncleanly, uncouth habitation upon the view.
+Add to these a proportionate number of ragged tents and teepees, a crowd
+of unwashed, and, for the most part, undressed children, a hundred
+fierce and half-starved dogs of the &quot;husky&quot; type. Imagine a stench of
+dung fire cooking, and the gathering of millions of mosquitoes about a
+few choyeuses and fat cattle grazing near by, and the picture as it
+first presents itself is complete.</p>
+
+<p>The approach to such a place makes one almost wish the undulating
+prairie was not quite so fair a picture, for the contrast with man's
+filthy squalor is so great that the feeling of nauseation which results
+is almost overpowering. Horrocks, however, was used to such scenes. His
+duty often took him into worse Breed camps than this. He treated such
+places to a perfectly callous indifference, and regarded them merely as
+necessary evils.</p>
+
+<p>At the first shack he drew up and instantly became the center of
+attention from a pack of yelping dogs and a number of half-fearful,
+wide-eyed ragamuffins, grimy children nearly naked and ranging in age
+from two years up to twelve. Young as the latter were they were an
+evil-looking collection. The noisy greeting of the camp dogs had aroused
+the elders from their indolent repose within the shacks, and Horrocks
+quickly became aware of a furtive spying within the darkened doorways
+and paneless windows.</p>
+
+<p>The reception was nothing unusual to the officer. The Breeds he knew
+always fought shy of the police. As a rule, such a visit as the present
+portended an arrest, and they were never quite sure who the victim was
+to be and the possible consequences. Crime was so common amongst these
+people that in nearly every family it was possible to find one or more
+law-breakers and, more often than not, the delinquent was liable to
+capital punishment.</p>
+
+<p>Ignoring his cool reception, Horrocks hitched his horse to a tree and
+stepped up to the shack, regardless of the vicious snapping of the dogs.
+The children fled precipitately at his approach. At the door of the
+house he halted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hallo there, within!&quot; he called.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's pause, and he heard a whispered debate going on in
+the shadowy interior.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hey!&quot; he called again. &quot;Get a hustle on, some of you. Get out,&quot; he
+snapped sharply, as a great husky, with bristling hair, came snuffing at
+his legs. He aimed a kick at the dog, which, in response, sullenly
+retreated to a safe distance.</p>
+
+<p>The angry tone of his second summons had its effect, and a figure moved
+cautiously within and finally approached the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh! what is it?&quot; asked a deep, guttural voice, and a bulky form framed
+itself in the opening.</p>
+
+<p>The police-officer eyed the man keenly. The twilight had so far deepened
+that there was barely sufficient light to distinguish the man's
+features, but Horrocks's survey satisfied him as to the fellow's
+identity. He was a repulsive specimen of the Breed; the dark, lowering
+face had something utterly cruel in its expression. The cast was brutal
+in the extreme; sensual, criminal. The shifty black eyes looked anywhere
+but into the policeman's face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That you, Gustave?&quot; said Horrocks, pleasantly enough. He wished to
+inspire confidence. &quot;I'm looking for Gautier. I've got a nice little job
+for him. Do you know where he is?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ugh!&quot; grunted Gustave, heavily, but with a decided air of relief. He
+entertained a wholesome dread of Sergeant Horrocks. Now he became more
+communicative. Horrocks had not come to arrest anybody. &quot;I see,&quot; he went
+on, gazing out across the prairie, &quot;this is not a warrant business, eh?
+Guess Gautier is back there,&quot; with a jerk of a thumb in a vague
+direction behind him. &quot;He's in his shack. Gautier's just hooked up with
+another squaw.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Another?&quot; Horrocks whistled softly. &quot;Why, that's the sixth to my
+knowledge. He's very much a marrying man. How much did he pay the neche
+this time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two steers and a sheep,&quot; said the man, with an oily grin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! I wonder how he acquired 'em. Well, I'll go and find him. Gautier
+is smart, but he'll land himself in the penitentiary if he goes on
+marrying squaws at that price. Say, which is his shack did you say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Back thar. You'll see it. He's just limed the outside of it. Guess
+white's the color his new squaw fancies most. S'long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man was glad to be rid of his visitor. In spite of the sergeant's
+assurance, Gustave never felt comfortable in the officer's presence.
+Horrocks moved off in search of the white hut, while the Breed, with
+furtive eyes, watched his progress.</p>
+
+<p>There was no difficulty in locating the shack in that colony of grime.
+Even in the darkness the gleaming white of the ex-spy's abode stood out
+prominently. The dogs and children now tacitly acknowledged the right of
+the police-officer's presence in their camp, and allowed him to move
+about apparently unnoticed. He wound his way amongst the huts and tents,
+ever watchful and alert, always aiming for Gautier's hut. He knew that
+in this place at night his life was not worth much. A quick aim, and a
+shot from behind, and no one would ever know who had dropped him. But
+the Canadian police are accustomed to take desperate chances in their
+work, and think less of it than do our police patrols in the slums of
+London.</p>
+
+<p>He found Gautier sitting at his hut door waiting for him. Another might
+have been surprised at the Breed's cognizance of the police-officer's
+intentions, but Horrocks knew the habits of these people, and was fully
+alive to the fact that while he had been talking to Gustave a messenger
+was dispatched to warn Gautier that he was sought.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, sergeant, what's your best news?&quot; Gautier asked civilly. He was a
+bright, intelligent-looking, dusky man, of perhaps forty years. His face
+was less brutal than that of the other Breed, but it was none the less
+cunning. He was short and massively built.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's just what I've come to ask you, Gautier. I think you can tell me
+all I want to know&mdash;if you've a notion to. Say,&quot; with a keen look round,
+&quot;can we talk here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was not a soul visible but an occasional playing child. It was
+curious how quiet the camp became. Horrocks was not deceived, however.
+He knew that a hundred pairs of eyes were watching him from the reeking
+recesses of the huts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No talk here.&quot; Gautier was serious, and his words conveyed a lot. &quot;It's
+bad medicine your coming to-night. But there,&quot; with a return to his
+cunning look, &quot;I don't know that I've got anything to tell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes, I know. You needn't be afraid.&quot; Then lowering his voice:
+&quot;I've got a roll of bills in my pocket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, then don't stay here talking. There's lots to tell, but they'd kill
+me if they suspected. Where can I see you&mdash;quiet-like? They won't lose
+sight of me if they can help it, but I reckon I'm good for the best of
+'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man's attempt to look sincere was almost ludicrous. His cunning eyes
+twinkled with cupidity. Horrocks kept his voice down.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Right. I shall be at Lablache's store in an hour's time. You must see
+me to-night.&quot; Then aloud, for the benefit of listening ears, &quot;You be
+careful what you are doing. This promiscuous buying of wives, with
+cattle which you may have difficulty in accounting for your possession
+of, will lead you into trouble. Mind, I've warned you. Just look to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His last sentences were called out as he moved away, and Gautier quite
+understood.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks did not return the way he had come, but took a circuitous
+route through the camp. He was a man who never lost a chance in his
+work, and now, while he was in the midst of that criminal haunt, he
+thought it as well to take a look round. He hardly knew what he expected
+to find out&mdash;if anything. But he required information of Retief, and he
+was fully alive to the fact that all that individual's movements would
+be known here. He trusted to luck to help him to discover something.</p>
+
+<p>The smartest of men have to work against overwhelming odds in the
+detection of crime. Many and devious are the ways of men whose hand is
+against the law. Surely is the best detective a mere babe in the hands
+of a clever criminal. In this instance the very thing that Horrocks was
+in search of was about to be forced upon him. For underlying that
+information was a deep-laid scheme.</p>
+
+<p>Never can reliance be placed in a true half-breed. The heathen Chinee is
+the ideal of truth and honesty when his wiles are compared with the dark
+ways of the Breed. Horrocks, with all his experience, was no match for
+the dusky-visaged outcast of the plains. Gautier had been deputied to
+convey certain information to Lablache by the patriarchs of the camp.
+And with his native cunning he had decided, on the appearance of
+Sergeant Horrocks, to extort a price for that which it was his duty to
+tell. Besides this, as matters had turned out, Horrocks was to receive
+gratis that for which he would shortly pay Gautier.</p>
+
+<p>He had made an almost complete circuit of the camp. Accustomed as he was
+to such places, the stench of it almost made him sick. He came to a
+stand close beside one of the outlying teepees. He was just preparing to
+fill his pipe and indulge in a sort of disinfecting smoke when he became
+aware of voices talking loudly close by. The sound proceeded from the
+teepees. From force of habit he listened. The tones were gruff, and
+almost Indian-like in the brevity of expression. The language was the
+bastard jargon of the French half-breed. For a moment he was doubtful.
+Then his attention became riveted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said one voice, &quot;he is a good man, is Peter. When he has plenty
+he spends it. He does not rob the poor Breed. Only the gross white man.
+Peter is clever. Very.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then another voice, deep-toned and full, took up the eulogy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter knows how to spend his money. He spends it among his friends. It
+is good. How much whisky will he buy, think you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Another voice chipped in at this point, and Horrocks strained his ears
+to catch the words, for the voice was the voice of a female and her
+utterance was indistinct.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He said he would pay for everything&mdash;all we could eat and drink&mdash;and
+that the pusky should be held the night after to-morrow. He will come
+himself and dance the Red River jig. Peter is a great dancer and will
+dance all others down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then the first speaker laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter must have a long stocking if he would pay for all. A barrel of
+rye would not go far, and as for food, he must bring several of the
+steers which he took from old Lablache if he would feed us. But Peter is
+always as good as his word. He said he would pay. And he will pay. When
+does he come to prepare?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He does not come. He has left the money with Baptiste, who will see to
+everything. Peter will not give 'the Ferret' a chance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how? The dance will be a danger to him,&quot; said the woman's voice.
+&quot;What if 'the Ferret' hears?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He will not hear, and, besides, Peter will be prepared if the damned
+police come. Have no fear for Peter. He is bold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The voices ceased and Horrocks waited a little longer. But presently,
+when the voices again became audible, the subject of conversation had
+changed, and he realized that he was not likely to hear more that would
+help him. So, with great caution, he stole quickly away to where his
+horse was tied. He mounted hastily and rode off, glad to be away from
+that reeking camp, and greatly elated with the success of the visit.</p>
+
+<p>He had learned a lot. And he was to hear more yet from Gautier. He felt
+that the renowned &quot;hustler&quot; was already in his clutches. His spurs went
+sharply into his broncho's flanks and he raced over the prairie towards
+the settlement. Possibly he should have known better than to trust to
+the overhearing of that conversation. His knowledge of the Breeds should
+have warned him to put little faith in what he had heard. But he was
+eager. His reputation was largely at stake over this affair, and that
+must be the excuse for the rashness of his faith. However, the penalty
+of his folly was to be his, therefore blame can well be spared.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI" />CHAPTER XVI - GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Sit down and let me hear the&mdash;worst.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's voice rasped harshly as he delivered his mandate. Horrocks
+had just arrived at the money-lender's store after his visit to the
+half-breed camp. The police-officer looked weary. And the dejected
+expression on his face had drawn from his companion the hesitating
+superlative.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you got anything to eat?&quot; Horrocks retorted quickly, ignoring the
+other's commands. &quot;I am famished. Had nothing since I set out from
+Stormy Cloud. I can't talk on an empty stomach.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache struck a table bell sharply, and one of his clerks, all of whom
+were still working in the store, entered. The money-lender's clerks
+always worked early and late. It was part of the great man's creed to
+sweat his <i>employees</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just go over to the saloon, Markham, and tell them to send supper for
+one&mdash;something substantial,&quot; he called out after the man, who hastened
+to obey with the customary precipitance of all who served the flinty
+financier.</p>
+
+<p>The man disappeared in a twinkling and Lablache turned to his visitor
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They'll send it over at once. There's some whisky in that bottle,&quot;
+pointing to a small cabinet, through the glass door of which gleamed the
+white label of &quot;special Glenlivet.&quot; &quot;Help yourself. It'll buck you up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks obeyed with alacrity, and the genial spirit considerably
+refreshed him. He then reseated himself opposite to his host, who had
+faced round from his desk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My news is not the&mdash;worst, as you seem to anticipate; although,
+perhaps, it might have been better,&quot; the officer began. &quot;In fact, I am
+fairly well pleased with the result of my day's work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which means, I take it, that you have discovered a clew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's heavy eyes gleamed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rather more than a clew,&quot; Horrocks went on reflectively. &quot;My
+information relates more to the man than to the beasts. We shall, I
+think, lay our hands on this&mdash;Retief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good&mdash;good,&quot; murmured the money-lender, inclining his heavy jowled
+head. &quot;Find the man and we shall recover the cattle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not so sure of that,&quot; put in the other. &quot;However, we shall see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked slightly disappointed. The capture of Retief seemed to
+him synonymous with the recovery of his stock. However, he waited for
+his visitor to proceed. The money-lender was essentially a man to draw
+his own conclusions after hearing the facts, and no opinion of another
+was likely to influence him when once those conclusions were arrived at.
+Lablache was a strong man mentally and physically. And few cared to
+combat his decisions or opinions.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment further talk was interrupted by the entry of a man with
+Horrocks's supper. When the fellow had withdrawn the police-officer
+began his repast and the narration of his story at the same time.
+Lablache watched and listened with an undisturbed concentration. He lost
+no point, however small, in the facts as stated by the officer. He
+refrained from interruption, excepting where the significance of certain
+points in the story escaped him, and, at the conclusion, he was as
+conversant with the situation as though he had been present at the
+investigation. The great man was profoundly impressed with what he
+heard. Not so much with the shrewdness of the officer as with the simple
+significance of the loss of further trace of the cattle at the edge of
+the muskeg. Up to this point of the story he felt assured that Horrocks
+was to be perfectly relied upon, but, for the rest, he was not so sure.
+He felt that though this man was the finest tracker in the country the
+delicate science of deduction was not necessarily an accompaniment to
+his prairie abilities. Therefore, for the moment, he concentrated his
+thoughts upon the features surrounding the great keg.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is a curious thing,&quot; he said retrospectively, as the policeman
+ceased speaking, &quot;that in all previous raids of this Retief we have
+invariably tracked the lost stock down to this point. Of course, as you
+say, there is not the slightest doubt that the beasts have been herded
+over the keg. Everything seems to me to hinge on the discovery of that
+path. That is the problem which confronts us chiefly. How are we to find
+the secret of the crossing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It cannot be done,&quot; said Horrocks, simply but with decision.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nonsense,&quot; exclaimed the other, with a heavy gasp of breath. &quot;Retief
+knows it, and the others with him. Those cattle could not have been
+herded over single-handed. Now to me it seems plain that the crossing is
+a very open secret amongst the Breeds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I presume you consider that we should work chiefly on that
+hypothesis?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Exactly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you do not consider the possible capture of Retief as being the
+most important feature of the case?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Important&mdash;certainly. But, for the moment, of minor consideration. Once
+we discover the means by which he secretes his stock&mdash;and the
+hiding-place&mdash;we can stop his depredations and turn all our energies to
+his capture. You follow me? At first I was inclined to think with you
+that the capture of the man would be the best thing. But now it seems to
+me that the easiest method of procedure will be the discovery of that
+path.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rasping tone in which Lablache spoke conveyed to the other his
+unalterable conviction. The prairie man, however, remained unconvinced.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; he replied, after a moment's deliberation, &quot;I cannot say I agree
+with you. Open secret or not, I've a notion that we'd stand a better
+chance of discovering the profoundest of state secrets than elicit
+information, even supposing them to possess it, of this description from
+the Breeds. I expect Gautier here in a few minutes; we shall hear what
+he has to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I trust he <i>may</i> have something to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache snapped his reply out in that peculiar tone of his which spoke
+volumes. It never failed to anger him to have his opinions gainsaid.
+Then his manner changed slightly, and his mood seemed to become
+contemplative. Horrocks observed the change and wondered what was
+coming. The money-lender cleared his throat and spat into the stove.
+Then he spoke with that slow deliberation which was his when thinking
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two years ago, when Retief did what he liked in this part of the
+country, there were many stories going about as to his relationship with
+a certain lady in this settlement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Allandale&mdash;yes, I have heard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so; some said that she&mdash;er&mdash;was very partial to him. Some, that
+they were distantly connected. All were of opinion that she knew a great
+deal of the man if she only chose to tell. These stories were
+gossip&mdash;merely. These small places are given to gossip. But I must
+confess to a belief that gossip is often&mdash;always, in fact&mdash;founded on a
+certain amount of fact.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no niceness of feeling about this mountain of obesity in
+matters of business. He spoke as callously of the girl, for whom he
+entertained his unholy passion, as he would speak of a stranger. He
+experienced no compunction in linking her name with that of an outlaw.
+His gross nature was of too low an order to hold anything sacred where
+his money-bags were affected.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps you&mdash;er&mdash;do not know,&quot; he pursued, carefully lighting his pipe
+and pressing the charred tobacco down with the tip of his little finger,
+&quot;that this girl is the daughter of a Breed mother?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I hadn't a notion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks's keen eyes flashed with interest. He too lit his pipe as he
+lounged back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is a quarter-breed, and, moreover, the esteem in which she is held
+by the skulking inhabitants of the camp inclines me to the belief
+that&mdash;er&mdash;judicious&mdash;er&mdash;handling&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean that through her we might obtain the information we require?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks punctuated the other's deliberate utterances with hasty
+eagerness. Lablache permitted a vague smile about the corners of his
+mouth, his eyes remained gleaming coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You anticipate me. The matter would need delicate handling. What Miss
+Allandale has done in the past will not be easy to find out. Granting,
+of course, that gossip has not wronged her,&quot; he went on doubtfully. &quot;On
+second thoughts, perhaps you had better leave that source of information
+to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He relapsed apparently into deep thought. His pensive deliberation was
+full of guile. He had a purpose to achieve which necessitated the
+suggestion which he had made to this representative of the law. He
+wished to impress upon his companion a certain connivance on the part
+of, at least, one member of the house of Allandale with the doings of
+the raider. He merely wished to establish a suspicion in the mind of the
+officer. Time and necessity might develop it, if it suited Lablache's
+schemes that such should occur. In the meantime he knew he could direct
+this man's actions as he chose.</p>
+
+<p>The calm superiority of the money-lender was not lost upon his
+companion. Horrocks was nettled, and showed it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you'll pardon me, Mr. Lablache. You have offered me a source of
+information which, as a police-officer, it is my duty to sound. As you
+yourself admit, the old stories of a secret love affair may have some
+foundation in fact. Accept that and what possibilities are not opened
+up? Had I been employed on the affairs of Retief, during his previous
+raids, I should certainly have worked upon so important a clew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tut, tut, man,&quot; retorted the other, sharply. &quot;I understood you to be a
+keen man at your business. A single ill-timed move in the direction we
+are discussing and the fat will be in the fire. The girl is as smart as
+paint; at the first inkling of your purpose she'll curl up&mdash;shut up like
+a rat trap. The Breeds will be warned and we shall be further off
+success than ever. No, no, when it comes to handling Jacky Allandale you
+leave it to me&mdash;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's ejaculation was the result of the sudden apparition of a dark
+face peering in at his window. He swung round with lightning rapidity,
+and before Horrocks could realize what he was doing his fat hand was
+grasping the butt of a revolver. Then, with a grunt of annoyance, he
+turned back to his guest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's your Breed, I take it. For the moment I thought it was some one
+else; it's always best in these parts to shoot first and inquire
+afterwards. I occasionally get some strange visitors.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The policeman laughed as he went to the door. His irritation at the
+money-lender's manner was forgotten. The strangeness of the sight of
+Lablache's twenty stone of flesh moving with lightning rapidity
+astonished him beyond measure. Had he not seen it nothing would have
+convinced him of the man's marvelous agility when roused by emergency.
+It was something worth remembering.</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough, the face on the other side of the window belonged to
+Gautier, and, as Horrocks opened the door, the Breed pushed his way
+stealthily in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's all right, boss,&quot; said the man, with some show of anxiety, &quot;I've
+slipped 'em. I'm watched pretty closely, but&mdash;good evening, sir,&quot; he
+went on, turning to Lablache with obsequious politeness. &quot;This is bad
+medicine&mdash;this business we're on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache cleared his throat and spat, but deigned no reply. He intended
+to take no part in the ensuing conversation. He only wished to observe.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks at once became the officer to the subordinate. He turned
+sharply on the Breed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cut the cackle and come to business. Have you anything to tell us about
+this Retief? Out with it sharp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That depends, boss,&quot; said the man, with a cunning smile. &quot;As you sez.
+Cut the cackle and come to business. Business means a deal, and a deal
+means 'cash pappy.' Wot's the figger?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was no obsequious politeness about the fellow now. He was about as
+bad a specimen of the Breed as could well be found. Hence his late
+employment by the authorities. &quot;The worse the Breed the better the spy,&quot;
+was the motto of those whose duty it was to investigate crime. Gautier
+was an excellent spy, thoroughly unscruplous and rapacious. His
+information was always a saleable commodity, and he generally found his
+market a liberal one. But with business instincts worthy of Lablache
+himself he was accustomed to bargain first and impart after.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See here,&quot; retorted Horrocks, &quot;I don't go about blind-folded. Neither
+am I going to fling bills around without getting value for 'em. What's
+your news? Can you lay hands on Retief, or tell us where the stock is
+hidden?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you're looking fer somethin' now,&quot; said the man, impudently. &quot;Ef
+I could supply that information right off some 'un 'ud hev to dip deep
+in his pocket fur it. I ken put you on to a good even trail, an' fifty
+dollars 'ud be small pay for the trouble an' the danger I'm put to. Wot
+say? Fifty o' the best greenbacks?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Lablache can pay you if he chooses, but until I know that your
+information's worth it I don't part with fifty cents. Now then, we've
+had dealings before, Gautier&mdash;dealings which have not always been to
+your credit. You can trust me to part liberally if you've anything
+worth telling, but mind this, you don't get anything beforehand, and if
+you don't tell us all you know, in you go to Calford and a diet of
+skilly'll be your lot for some time to come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man's face lowered considerably at this. He knew Horrocks well, and
+was perfectly aware that he would be as good as his word. There was
+nothing to be gained by holding out. Therefore he accepted the
+inevitable with as bad a grace as possible. Lablache kept silence, but
+he was reading the Breed as he would a book.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar, sergeant,&quot; said Gautier, sulkily, &quot;you're mighty hard on the
+Breeds, an' you know it. It'll come back on you, sure, one o' these
+days. Guess I'm going to play the game square. It ain't fur me to bluff
+men o' your kidney, only I like to know that you're going to treat me
+right. Well, this is what I've got to say, an' it's worth fifty as
+you'll 'low.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks propped himself upon the corner of the money-lender's desk and
+prepared to listen. Lablache's lashless eyes were fixed with a steady,
+unblinking stare upon the half-breed's face. Not a muscle of his own
+pasty, cruel face moved. Gautier was talking to, at least, one man who
+was more cunning and devilish than himself.</p>
+
+<p>The dusky ruffian gave a preliminary cough and then launched upon his
+story with all the flowery embellishments of which his inventive fancy
+was capable. What he had to tell was practically the same as Horrocks
+had overheard. There were a few items of importance which came fresh to
+the police-officer's ears. It stuck Lablache that the man spoke in the
+manner of a lesson well learned, and, in consequence, his keen interest
+soon relaxed. Horrocks, however, judged differently, and saw in the
+man's story a sound corroboration of his own information. As the story
+progressed his interest deepened, and at its conclusion he questioned
+the half-breed closely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This pusky. I suppose it will be the usual drunken orgie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess,&quot; was the laconic rejoinder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Any of the Breeds from the other settlements coming over?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't say, boss. Like enough, I take it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what is Retief's object in defraying all expenses&mdash;in giving the
+treat, when he knows that the white men are after him red-hot?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mebbe it's bluff&mdash;cheek. Peter's a bold man. He snaps his fingers at
+the police,&quot; replied Gautier, illustrating his words with much
+appreciation. He felt he was getting a smack at the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then Peter's a fool.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you're wrong thar. Peter's the slickest 'bad man' I've heerd tell
+of.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll see. Now what about the keg? Of course the cattle have crossed
+it. A secret path?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yup.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who knows the secret of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Only?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Breed hesitated. His furtive eyes shifted from one face to the other
+of his auditors. Then encountering the fixed stare of both men he
+glanced away towards the window. He seemed uncomfortable under the mute
+inquiry. Then he went on doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess thar's others. It's an old secret among the Breeds. An' I've
+heerd tell as some whites knows it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A swift exchange of meaning glances passed between the two listeners.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Won't&mdash;you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, boss. Ef I knew it 'ud pay me well to tell. Guess I don't know.
+I've tried to find out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now look you. Retief has always been supposed to have been drowned in
+the keg. Where's he been all the time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed grinned. Then his face became suddenly serious. He began
+to think the cross-questioning was becoming too hot He decided to draw
+on his imagination.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Peter was no more drowned than I was. He tricked you&mdash;us all&mdash;into that
+belief. Gee!&mdash;but he's slick. Peter went to Montana. When the States got
+too sultry fur 'im he jest came right back hyar. He's been at the camp
+fur two weeks an' more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks was silent after this. Then he turned to Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Anything you'd like to ask him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender shook his head and Horrocks turned back to his man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess that's all. Here's your fifty,&quot; he went on, taking a roll of
+bills from his pocket and counting out the coveted greenbacks. &quot;See and
+don't get mad drunk and get to shooting. Off you go. If you learn
+anything more I'm ready to pay for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Gautier took the bills and hastily crammed them into his pocket as if he
+feared he might be called upon to return them. Then he made for the
+door. He hesitated before he passed out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, sergeant, you ain't goin' fur to try an' take 'im at the pusky?&quot;
+he asked, with an appearance of anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's my business. Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Breed shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ye'll feed the coyotes, sure as&mdash;kingdom come. Say they'll jest flay
+the pelt off yer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Git!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rascal &quot;got&quot; without further delay or evil prophecy. He knew
+Horrocks.</p>
+
+<p>When the door closed, and the officer had assured himself of the man's
+departure, he turned to his host.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; retorted Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you make of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent waste of fifty dollars.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache's face was expressive of indifference mixed with incredulity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He told you what you already knew,&quot; he pursued, &quot;and drew on his
+imagination for the rest. I'll swear that Retief has not been seen at
+the Breed camp for the last fortnight. Moreover, that man was reciting a
+carefully-thought-out tale. I fancy you have something yet to learn in
+your business, Horrocks. You have not the gift of reading men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The police-officer's face was a study. As he listened to the masterful
+tone of his companion his color came and went. His dark skin flushed and
+then rapidly paled. A blaze of anger leapt into his keen, flashing eyes.
+Lablache had flicked him sorely. He struggled to keep cool.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unfortunately my position will not allow me to fall out with you,&quot; he
+said, with scarcely-suppressed heat, &quot;otherwise I should call you
+sharply to account for your insulting remarks. For the moment we will
+pass them over. In the meantime, Mr. Lablache, let me tell you, my
+experience leads me to trust largely to the story of that man. Gautier
+has sold me a good deal of excellent information in the past, and I am
+convinced that what I have now heard is not the least of his efforts in
+the law's behalf. Rascal&mdash;scoundrel&mdash;as he is, he would not dare to set
+me on a false scent&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not if backed by a man like Retief&mdash;and all the half-breed camp? You
+surprise me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks gritted his teeth but spoke sharply. Lablache's supercilious
+tone of mockery drove him to the verge of madness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not even under these circumstances. I shall attend that pusky and
+effect the arrest. I understand these people better than you give me
+credit for. I presume your discretion will not permit you to be present
+at the capture?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was Horrocks's turn to sneer now. Lablache remained unmoved. He
+merely permitted the ghost of a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My discretion will not permit me to be present at the pusky. There will
+be no capture, I fear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then I'll bid you good-night. There is no need to further intrude upon
+your time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None whatever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender did not attempt to show the policeman any
+consideration. He had decided that Horrocks was a fool, and when
+Lablache formed such an opinion of a man he rarely attempted to conceal
+it, especially when the man stood in a subordinate position.</p>
+
+<p>After seeing the officer off the premises, Lablache moved heavily back
+to his desk. The alarm clock indicated ten minutes to nine. He stood for
+some moments gazing with introspective eyes at the timepiece. He was
+thinking hard. He was convinced that what he had just heard was a mere
+fabrication, invented to cover some ulterior motive. That motive puzzled
+him. He had no fear for Horrocks's life. Horrocks wore the uniform of
+the Government. Lawless and all as the Breeds were, he knew they would
+not resist the police&mdash;unless, of course, Retief were there. Having
+decided in his mind that Retief would not be there he had no misgivings.
+He failed to fathom the trend of affairs at all. In spite of his outward
+calm he felt uneasy, and he started as though he had been shot when he
+heard a loud knocking at his private door.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender's hand dropped on to the revolver lying upon the desk,
+and he carried the weapon with him when he went to answer the summons.
+His alarm was needless. His late visitor was &quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>The old rancher came in sheepishly enough. There was no mistaking the
+meaning of his peculiar crouching gait, the leering upward glance of his
+bloodshot eyes. To any one who did not know him, his appearance might
+have been that of a drink-soaked tramp, so dishevelled and bleared he
+looked. Lablache took in the old man's condition in one swift glance
+from his pouched and fishy eyes. His greeting was cordial&mdash;too cordial.
+Any other but the good-hearted, simple old man would have been
+suspicious of it. Cordiality was not Lablache's nature.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, John, better late than never,&quot; he exclaimed gutturally. &quot;Come in
+and have a smoke.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I thought I'd just come right down and&mdash;see if you'd got any
+news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None&mdash;none, old friend. Nothing at all. Horrocks is a fool, I'm
+thinking. Take that chair,&quot; pointing to the basket chair. &quot;You're not
+looking up to the mark. Have a nip of Glenlivet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He passed the white-labeled bottle over to his companion, and watched
+the rancher curiously as he shakily helped himself to a liberal &quot;four
+fingers.&quot; &quot;Poker&quot; John was rapidly breaking up. Lablache fully realized
+this.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No news&mdash;no news,&quot; murmured John, as he smacked his lips over his &quot;tot&quot;
+of whisky. &quot;It's bad, man, very bad. We're not safe in this place whilst
+that man's about. Dear, dear, dear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The senility of the rancher was painfully apparent. Doubtless it was the
+result of his recent libations and excesses. The money-lender was quite
+aware that John had not come to him to discuss the &quot;hustler.&quot; He had
+come to suggest a game of cards, but for reasons of his own the former
+wished to postpone the request. He had not expected that &quot;Poker&quot; John
+would have come this evening; therefore, certain plans of his were not
+to have been put into execution until the following day. Now, however,
+it was different. John's coming, and his condition, offered him a chance
+which was too good to be missed, and Lablache was never a man to miss
+opportunities.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII" />CHAPTER XVII - THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY</h2>
+
+
+<p>Presently the old man drew himself up a little. The spirit had a bracing
+effect upon him. The dull leering eyes assumed a momentary brightness,
+and he almost grew cheerful. The change was not lost upon Lablache. It
+was a veritable game of the cat and the mouse.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is the first time your stock has been touched,&quot; said John,
+meaninglessly. His thoughts were running upon the game of cards he had
+promised himself. An unaccountable lack of something like moral courage
+prevented him talking of it. Possibly it was the iron influence of his
+companion which forbade the suggestion of cards. &quot;Poker&quot; John was
+inwardly chafing at his own weakness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; responded the other, &quot;I have not been touched before.&quot; Then,
+suddenly, he leant forward, and, for the moment, the money-lender's face
+lit up with something akin to kindliness. It was an unusual sight, and
+one not to be relied upon. &quot;How many years is it, John, that we have
+struggled side by side in this benighted land?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher looked at the other, then his eyes dropped. He scarcely
+comprehended. He was startled at the expression of that leathery, puffed
+face. He shifted uneasily with the curious weakly restlessness of a
+shattered nerve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;More years, I guess, than I care to think of,&quot; he murmured at last.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, yes, you're right, John&mdash;quite right. It doesn't do to look back
+too far. We're getting on. But we're not old men yet. We're rich, John,
+rich in land and experience. No, not so old. We can still give the
+youngsters points, John. Ha, ha!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache laughed hollowly at his own pleasantry. His companion joined
+in the laugh, but without mirth. Poker&mdash;he could think of nothing but
+poker. The money-lender insinuatingly pushed the whisky bottle closer to
+the senile rancher. Almost unconsciously the old man helped himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wonder what it would be like living a private, idle life?&quot; Lablache
+went on, as though speaking to himself. Then directly to his companion,
+&quot;Do you know, old friend, I'm seriously thinking of selling out all my
+interests and retiring. I've worked very hard&mdash;very hard. I'm getting
+tired of it all. Sometimes I feel that rest would be good. I have
+amassed a very large fortune, John&mdash;as you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The confidences of the money-lender were so unusual that &quot;Poker&quot; John,
+in a dazed way, mildly wondered. The whisky had roused him a good deal
+now, and he felt that it was good to talk like this. He felt that the
+money-lender was a good fellow, and much better than he had thought. He
+even experienced compunction for the opinions which, at times, he had
+expressed of this old companion. Drink plays strange pranks with one's
+better judgment at times. Lablache noted the effect of his words
+carefully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said John, &quot;you have worked hard&mdash;we have both worked hard. Our
+lives have not been altogether without pleasure. The occasional game of
+cards we have had together has always helped to relieve monotony, eh,
+Lablache? Yes&mdash;yes. No one can say we have not earned rest. But
+there&mdash;yes, you have been more fortunate than I. I could not retire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache raised his sparse eyebrows. Then he helped himself to some
+whisky and pushed the bottle over to the other. When John had again
+replenished his glass the money-lender solemnly raised his and waved it
+towards the gray-headed old man. John responded unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How!&quot; replied the rancher.</p>
+
+<p>Both men drank the old Indian toast. Simple honesty was in one heart,
+while duplicity and low cunning filled the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You could not retire?&quot; said Lablache, when they had set their empty
+glasses upon the desk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;no,&quot; answered the other, shaking his head with ludicrous
+mournfulness, &quot;not retire; I have responsibilities&mdash;debts. You should
+know. I must pay them off. I must leave Jacky provided for.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, of course. You must pay them off. Jacky should be your first
+consideration.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache pursed his sensual lips. His expression was one of deep
+concern. Then he apparently fell into a reverie, during which John was
+wondering how best to propose the longed-for game of cards. The other
+roused himself before the desired means suggested itself to the old
+gambler. And his efforts were cut short abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky ought to marry,&quot; Lablache said without preamble. &quot;One never knows
+what may happen. A good husband&mdash;a man with money and business capacity,
+would be a great help to you, and would assure her future.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache had touched upon the one strong point which remained in John
+Allandale's character. His love for Jacky rivaled his passion for poker,
+and in its pure honesty was perhaps nearly as strong as that feverish
+zest. The gambler suddenly became electrified into a different being.
+The signs of decay&mdash;the atmosphere of drink, as it were, fell from him
+in the flashing of a second, and the old vigorous rancher, like the last
+dying flame of a fire, shot up into being.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky shall marry when she chooses, and whatever man she prefers. I
+will never profit by that dear child's matrimonial affairs,&quot; he said
+simply.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache bit his lips. He had been slightly premature. He acquiesced
+with a heavy nod of the head and poured himself out some more whisky.
+The example was natural and his companion followed it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are quite right, John. I merely spoke from a worldly point of
+view. But your decision affects me closely.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The other looked curiously at the money-lender, who thus found himself
+forced to proceed. Hitherto he had chosen his own gait. Now he felt
+himself being drawn. The process was new to him, but it suited his
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache sighed. It was like the breathing of an adipose pig.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have known that niece of yours, John, ever since she came into this
+world. I have watched her grow. I understand her nature as well as you
+do yourself. She is a clever, bright, winsome girl. But she needs the
+guiding hand of a good husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so. You are right. I am too old to take proper care of her. When
+she chooses she shall marry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John's tone was decisive. His words were non-committing and open to no
+argument. Lablache went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supposing now a rich man, a very rich man, proposed marriage for her.
+Presuming he was a man against whom there was no doubtful record&mdash;who,
+from a worldly point of view, there could be no objection to&mdash;should you
+object to him as a husband for Jacky?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher was still unsuspecting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What I have stated should answer your question. If Jacky were willing I
+should have no objection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Supposing,&quot; the money-lender went on, &quot;she were unwilling, but was
+content to abide by your decision. What then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a passing gleam of angry protest in the rancher's eyes as he
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What I have said still holds good,&quot; he retorted a little hotly. &quot;I will
+not influence the child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am sorry. I wish to marry your girl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was an impressive silence after this announcement. &quot;Poker&quot; John
+stared in blank wonderment at his companion. The expectation of such a
+contingency could not have been farther from his thought. Lablache&mdash;to
+many his niece&mdash;it was preposterous&mdash;ludicrous. He would not take it
+seriously&mdash;he could not. It was a joke&mdash;and not a nice one.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed&mdash;and in his laugh there was a ring of anger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course you are joking, Lablache,&quot; he said at last. &quot;Why, man, you
+are old enough to be the girl's father.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was never more serious in my life. And as for age,&quot; with a shrug, &quot;at
+least you will admit my intellect is unimpaired. Her interests will be
+in safe keeping.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Having recovered from his surprise the old man solemnly shook his head.
+Some inner feeling made him shrink from thoughts of Lablache as a
+husband for his girl. Besides, he had no intention of retreating from
+the stand he had taken.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As far as I am concerned the matter is quite impossible. If Jacky comes
+to me with a request for sanction of her marriage to you, she shall have
+it. But I will express no wish upon the matter. No, Lablache, I never
+thought you contemplated such a thing. You must go to her. I will not
+interfere. Oh, dear! oh, dear!&quot; and the old man laughed again nervously.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache remained perfectly calm. He had expected this result; although
+he had hoped that it might have been otherwise. Now he felt that he had
+paved the way to methods much dearer to his heart. This refusal of
+John's he intended to turn to account. He would force an acceptance from
+Jacky, and induce her uncle, by certain means, to give his consent.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender remained silent while he refilled his pipe. &quot;Poker&quot;
+John seized the opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, Lablache,&quot; he said jocosely, &quot;let us forget this little matter.
+Have a drink of your own whisky&mdash;I'll join you&mdash;and let us go down to
+the saloon for a gentle flutter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He helped himself to the spirit and poured out a glass for his
+companion. They silently drank, and then Lablache coughed, spat and lit
+his pipe. He fumbled his hat on to his head and moved to the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come on, then,&quot; he said gutturally. And John Allandale followed him
+out.</p>
+
+<p>The two days before the half-breed pusky passed quickly enough for some
+of those who are interested, and dragged their weary lengths all too
+slowly for others. At last, however, in due course the day dawned, and
+with it hopes and fears matured in the hearts of not a few of the
+denizens of Foss River and the surrounding neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>To all appearance the most unconcerned man was the Hon. Bunning-Ford,
+who still moved about the settlement in his cheery, <i>d&eacute;bonnaire</i>
+fashion, ever gentlemanly and always indolent. He had taken up his
+residence in one of the many disused shacks which dotted round the
+market-place, and there, apparently, sought to beguile the hours and eke
+out the few remaining dollars which were his. For Lablache, in his
+sweeping process, had still been forced to hand over some money, over
+and above his due, as a result of the sale of the young rancher's
+property. The trifling amount, however, was less than enough to keep
+body and soul together for six months.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, too, staunch to his opinions, did not trouble himself in the
+least. For the rest, all who knew of the meditated <i>coup</i> of Horrocks
+were agitated to a degree. All hoped for success, but all agreed in a
+feeling of pessimism which was more or less the outcome of previous
+experiences of Retief. Did not they know, only too well, of the traps
+which had been laid and which had failed to ensnare the daring desperado
+in days gone by? Horrocks they fondly believed to be a very smart man,
+but had not some of the best in the Canadian police been sent before to
+bring to justice this scourge of the district?</p>
+
+<p>Amongst those who shared these pessimistic views Mrs. Abbot was one of
+the most skeptical. She had learnt all the details of the intended
+arrest in the way she learned everything that was going on. A few
+judicious questions to the doctor and careful observations never left
+her long in the dark. She had a natural gift for absorbing information.
+She was a sort of social amalgam which never failed to glean the golden
+particles of news which remained after the &quot;panning up&quot; of daily events
+in Foss River. Nothing ever escaped this dear old soul, from the details
+of a political crisis in a distant part of the continent down to the
+number of drinks absorbed by some worthless half-breed in &quot;old man&quot;
+Smith's saloon. She had one of those keen, active brains which refuses
+to become dull and torpid in an atmosphere of humdrum monotony. Luckily
+her nature never allowed her to become a mischievous busybody. She was
+too kindly for that&mdash;too clever, tactful.</p>
+
+<p>After duly weighing the point at issue she found Horrocks's plans
+wanting, hence her unbelief, but, at the same time, her old heart
+palpitated with nervous excitement as might the heart of any younger and
+more hopeful of those in the know.</p>
+
+<p>As for the Allandales, it would be hard to say what they thought. Jacky
+went about her duties with a placidity that was almost worthy of the
+great money-lender himself. She showed no outward sign, and very little
+interest. Her thoughts she kept severely to herself. But she had
+thoughts on the subject, thoughts which teemed through her brain night
+and day. She was in reality aglow with excitement, but the Breed nature
+in her allowed no sign of emotion to appear. &quot;Poker&quot; John was beyond a
+keen interest. Whisky and cards had done for him what morphine and opium
+does for the drug fiend. He had no thoughts beyond them. In lucid
+intervals, as it were, he thought, perhaps, as well as his poor dulled
+brain would permit him, but the result of his mental effort would
+scarcely be worth recording.</p>
+
+<p>And so the time drew near.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks, since his difference of opinion with Lablache, had made the
+ranch his headquarters, leaving the money-lender as much as possible out
+of his consultations. He had been heartily welcomed by old John and his
+niece, the latter in particular being very gracious to him. Horrocks
+was not a lady's man, but he appreciated comfort when he could get it,
+and Jacky spared no trouble to make him comfortable now. Had he known
+the smiling thought behind her beautiful face his appreciation might
+have lessened.</p>
+
+<p>As the summer day drew to a close signs of coming events began to show
+themselves. First of all Aunt Margaret made her appearance at the
+Allandales' house. She was hot and excited. She had come up for a
+gossip, she said, and promptly sat down with no intention of moving
+until she had heard all she wanted to know. Then came &quot;Lord&quot; Bill,
+cheerily monosyllabic. He always considered that long speeches were a
+disgusting waste of time. Following closely upon his heels came the
+doctor and Pat Nabob, with another rancher from an outlying ranch. Quite
+why they had come up they would have hesitated to say. Possibly it was
+curiosity&mdash;possibly natural interest in affairs which nearly affected
+them. Horrocks, they knew, was at the ranch. Perhaps the magnetism which
+surrounds persons about to embark on hazardous undertakings had
+attracted them thither.</p>
+
+<p>As the hour for supper drew near the gathering in the sitting-room
+became considerable, and as each newcomer presented himself, Jacky, with
+thoughtful hospitality, caused another place to be set at her bountiful
+table. No one was ever allowed to pass a meal hour at the ranch without
+partaking of refreshment. It was one of the principal items provided for
+in the prairie creed, and the greatest insult to be offered at such time
+would have been to leave the house before the repast.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o'clock the girl announced the meal with characteristic
+heartiness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come right along and feed,&quot; she said. &quot;Who knows what to-night may
+bring forth? I guess we can't do better than drink success to our
+friend, Sergeant Horrocks. Whatever the result of his work to-night we
+all allow his nerve's right. Say, good people, there's liquor on the
+table&mdash;and glasses; a bumper to Sergeant Horrocks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The wording of the girl's remarks was significant. Truly Horrocks might
+have been the leader of a forlorn hope. Many of those present certainly
+considered him to be such. However, they were none the less hearty in
+their toast, and Jacky and Bill were the two first to raise their
+glasses on high.</p>
+
+<p>The toast drunk, tongues were let loose and the supper began. Ten
+o'clock was the time at which Horrocks was to set out. Therefore there
+were two hours in which to make merry. Never was a merrier meal taken at
+the ranch. Spirits were at bursting point, due no doubt to the current
+of excitement which actuated each member of the gathering.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was in the best of spirits, and even &quot;Poker&quot; John was enjoying one
+of his rare lucid intervals. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill sat between Jacky and Mrs.
+Abbot, and a more charming companion the old lady thought she had never
+met. It was Jacky who led the talk, Jacky who saw to every one's wants,
+Jacky whose spirits cheered everybody, by her light badinage, into, even
+against their better judgment, a feeling of optimism. Even Horrocks felt
+the influence of her bright, winsome cheeriness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Capture this colored scoundrel, Sergeant Horrocks,&quot; the girl exclaimed,
+with a laughing glance, as she helped him to a goodly portion of baked
+Jack-rabbit, &quot;and we'll present you with the freedom of the settlement,
+in an illuminated address inclosed in a golden casket. That's the mode,
+I take it, in civilized countries, and I guess we are civilized
+hereabout, some. Say, Bill, I opine you're the latest thing from England
+here to-night. What does 'freedom' mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked dubious. Everybody waited for his answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Freedom&mdash;um. Yes, of course&mdash;freedom. Why, freedom means banquets. You
+know&mdash;turtle soup&mdash;bile&mdash;indigestion. Best champagne in the mayor's
+cellar. Police can't run you in if you get drunk. All that sort of
+thing, don'tcherknow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent definition,&quot; laughed the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish somebody would present me with 'freedom,'&quot; said Nabob,
+plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's a good thing we don't go in for that sort of thing extensively in
+Canada,&quot; put in Horrocks, as the representative of the law. &quot;The
+peaceful pastime of the police would soon be taken from them. Why, the
+handling of 'drunks' is our only recreation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That, and for some of them the process of lowering four per cent.
+beer,&quot; added the doctor, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Another laugh followed the doctor's sally.</p>
+
+<p>When the mirth had subsided Aunt Margaret shook her head. This levity
+rather got on her nerves. This Retief business, as she understood it,
+was a very serious affair, especially for Sergeant Horrocks. She was
+keenly anxious to hear the details of his preparations. She knew most of
+them, but she liked her information first hand. With this object in view
+she suggested, rather than asked, what she wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I don't quite understand. I take it you are going single-handed
+into the half-breed camp, where you expect to find this Retief, Sergeant
+Horrocks?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks's face was serious as he looked over at the old lady. There was
+no laughter in his black, flashing eyes. He was not a man given to
+suavity. His business effectually crushed any approach to that sort of
+thing. He was naturally a stern man, too.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not quite mad, madam,&quot; he said curtly. &quot;I set some value upon my
+life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This crushing rejoinder had no effect upon Aunt Margaret. She still
+persisted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, of course, you take your men with you. Four, you have, and smart
+they look, too. I like to see well-set-up men. I trust you will succeed.
+They&mdash;I mean the Breeds&mdash;are a dangerous people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so dangerous as they're reckoned, I guess,&quot; said Horrocks,
+disdainfully. &quot;I don't anticipate much trouble.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I hope it will turn out as you think,&quot; replied the old lady,
+doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks shrugged his shoulders; he was not to be drawn.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment's silence after this, which was at length broken by
+&quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course, Horrocks,&quot; he said, &quot;we shall carry out your instructions to
+the letter. At three in the morning, failing your return or news of you,
+I set out with my ranch hands to find you. And woe betide those black
+devils if you have come to harm. By the way, what about your men?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They assemble here at ten. We leave our horses at Lablache's stables.
+We are going to walk to the settlement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think you are wise,&quot; said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess horses would be an encumbrance,&quot; said Jacky.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An excellent mark for a Breed's gun,&quot; added Bill. &quot;Seems to me you'll
+succeed,&quot; he went on politely. His eagle face was calmly sincere. The
+gray eyes looked steadily into those of the officer's. Jacky was
+watching her lover keenly. The faintest suspicion of a smile was in her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like to be there,&quot; she said simply, when Bill had finished.
+&quot;It's mean bad luck being a girl. Say, d'you think I'd be in the way,
+sergeant?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks looked over at her, and in his gaze was a look of admiration.
+In the way he knew she would be, but he could not tell her so. Such
+spirit appealed to him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There would be much danger for you, Miss Jacky,&quot; he said. &quot;My hands
+would be full, I could not look after you, and besides&mdash;&quot; He broke off
+at the recollection of the old stories about this girl. Suddenly he
+wondered if he had been indiscreet. What if the stories were true. He
+ran cold at the thought. These people knew his plans. Then he looked
+into the girl's beautiful face. No, it must be false. She could have
+nothing in common with the rascally Breeds.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And besides&mdash;what?&quot; Jacky said, smiling over at the policeman.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When Breeds are drunk they are not responsible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That settles it,&quot; the girl's uncle said, with a forced laugh. He did
+not like Jacky's tone. Knowing her, he feared she intended to be there
+to see the arrest.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle's laugh nettled the girl a little, and with a slight elevation
+of her head, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Further talk now became impossible, for, at that moment the troopers
+arrived. Horrocks discovered that it was nearly ten o'clock. The moment
+for the start had come, and, with one accord, everybody rose from the
+table. In the bustle and handshaking of departure Jacky slipped away.
+When, she returned the doctor and Mrs. Abbot were in the hall alone with
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill. The latter was just leaving. &quot;Poker&quot; John was on the
+veranda seeing Horrocks off.</p>
+
+<p>As Jacky came downstairs Aunt Margaret's eyes fell upon the ominous
+holster and cartridge belt which circled the girl's hips. She was
+dressed for riding. There could be no mistaking the determined set of
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky, my dear,&quot; said the old lady in dismay. &quot;What are you doing?
+Where are you going?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I'm going to see the fun&mdash;I've a notion there'll be some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't 'but' me, Aunt Margaret, I take it you aren't deaf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old lady relapsed into dignified silence, but there was much concern
+and a little understanding in her eyes as she watched the girl pass out
+to the corrals.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII" />CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<p>THE PUSKY</p>
+
+
+<p>A pusky is a half-breed dance. That is the literal meaning of the word.
+The practical translation, however, is often different. In reality it is
+a debauch&mdash;a frightful orgie, when all the lower animal instincts&mdash;and
+they are many and strong in the half-breed&mdash;are given full sway. When
+drunkenness and bestial passions rule the actions of these worse than
+savages. When murder and crimes of all sorts are committed without
+scruple, without even thought. Latterly things have changed, and these
+orgies are less frequent among the Breeds, or, at least, conducted with
+more regard for decorum. But we are talking of some years ago, at a time
+when the Breeds had to learn the meaning of civilization&mdash;before good
+order and government were thoroughly established in this great Western
+country; in the days when Indian &quot;Sun&quot; dances, and other barbarous
+functions were held. In the days of the Red River Jig, when a good
+fiddler of the same was held to be a man of importance; when the method
+of tuning the fiddle to the necessary pitch for the playing of that
+curious dance was a secret known only to a privileged few. Some might
+call them the &quot;good&quot; old days. &quot;Bad&quot; is the adjective which best
+describes that period.</p>
+
+<p>When Horrocks and his men set out for the Breed camp they had discarded
+their police clothes and were clad in the uncouth garb of the
+half-breeds. They had even gone to the length of staining their faces to
+the coppery hue of the Indians. They were a ragged party, these hardy
+riders of the plains, as they embarked on their meditated capture of the
+desperate raider. All of the five were &quot;tough&quot; men, who regarded their
+own lives lightly enough&mdash;men who had seen many stirring times, and
+whose hairbreadth escapes from &quot;tight&quot; corners would have formed a
+lengthy narrative in themselves. They were going to they knew not what
+now, but they did not shrink from the undertaking. Their leader was a
+man whose daring often outweighed his caution, but, as they well knew,
+he was endowed with a reckless man's luck, and they would sooner follow
+such as he&mdash;for they were sure of a busy time&mdash;than work with one of his
+more prudent colleagues.</p>
+
+<p>At the half-breed camp was considerable bustle and excitement. The
+activity of the Breed is not proverbial; they are at best a lazy lot,
+but now men and women came and went bristling with energy to their
+finger tips. Preparations were nearing completion. The chief item of
+importance was the whisky supply, and this the treasurer, Baptiste, had
+made his personal care. A barrel of the vilest &quot;rot-gut&quot; that was ever
+smuggled into prohibition territory had been procured and carefully
+secreted. This formed the chief refreshment, and, doubtless, the
+&quot;bluestone&quot; with which its fiery contents were strengthened, would work
+the passionate natures, on which it was to play, up to the proper
+crime-committing pitch.</p>
+
+<p>The orgie was to be held in a barn of considerable dimensions. It was a
+ramshackle affair, reeking of old age and horses. The roof was decidedly
+porous in places, being so lame and disjointed that the starry
+resplendence of the summer sky was plainly visible from beneath it.</p>
+
+<p>This, however, was a trifling matter, and of much less consequence than
+the question of space. What few horse stalls had once occupied the
+building had been removed, and the mangers alone remained, with the odor
+of horse, to remind the guests of the original purpose of their
+ballroom. A careful manipulation of dingy Turkey red, and material which
+had once been white, struggled vainly to hide these mangers from view,
+while coarse, rough boards which had at one time floored some of the
+stalls, served to cover in the tops and convert them into seats. The
+result was a triumph of characteristic ingenuity. The barn was converted
+into a place of the necessary requirements, but rendered hideous in the
+process.</p>
+
+<p>Next came the disguising of the rafters and &quot;collar-ties&quot; of the
+building. This was a process which lent itself to the curiously warped
+artistic sense of the benighted people. Print&mdash;I mean cotton rags&mdash;was
+the chief idea of decoration. They understood these stuffs. They were
+cheap&mdash;or, at least, as cheap as anything sold at Lablache's store.
+Besides, print decorated the persons of the buxom Breed women, therefore
+what more appropriate than such stuff to cover the nakedness of the
+building. Festoons of print, flags of print, rosettes of print: these
+did duty for the occasion. The staring patterns gleamed on every beam,
+or hung in bald draping almost down to the height of an ordinary man's
+head. The effect was strangely reminiscent of a second-hand clothes
+shop, and helped to foster the nauseating scent of the place.</p>
+
+<p>A row of reeking oil lamps, swinging in crazy wire swings, were
+suspended down the center from the moldering beams, and in the diamond
+window spaces were set a number of black bottles, the neck of each being
+stuffed with a tallow candle.</p>
+
+<p>One corner of the room was set apart for the fiddler, and here a da&iuml;s of
+rough boarding, also draped in print stuff, was erected to meet the
+requirements of that honored personage. Such was the uncouth place where
+the Breeds proposed to hold their orgie. And of its class it was an
+excellent example.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock the barn was lit up, and strangely bizarre was the
+result. The draught through the broken windows set the candles
+a-guttering, until rivers of yellow fat decorated the black bottles in
+which they were set. The stench from these, and from the badly-trimmed
+coal oil lamps down the center, blended disgustingly with the native
+odor of the place, until the atmosphere became heavy, pungent, revolting
+in the nostrils, and breathing became a labor after the sweet fresh air
+of the prairie outside.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after this the dancers began to arrive. They came in their strange
+deckings of glaring colors, and many and varied were the types which
+soon filled the room. There were old men and there were young men. There
+were girls in their early teens, and toothless hags, decrepit and
+faltering. Faces which, in wild loveliness, might have vied with the
+white beauty of the daughters of the East. Faces seared and crumpled
+with weight of years and nights of debauchery. Men were there of superb
+physique, whilst others crouched huddled, with shuffling gait towards
+the manger seats, to seek rest for their rotting bones, and ease for
+their cramping muscles.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the faces were marred by disease; small-pox was a prevalent
+scourge amongst these people. The effect of the pure air of the prairie
+was lost upon the germ-laden atmosphere which surrounded these dreadful
+camps. Crime, too, was stamped on many of the faces of those gathering
+in the reeking ballroom. The small bullet head with low, receding
+forehead; the square set jaws and sagging lips; the shifty, twinkling
+little eyes, narrow-set and of jetty hue; such faces were plentiful. Nor
+were these features confined to the male sex alone. Truly it was a
+motley gathering, and not pleasant to look upon.</p>
+
+<p>All, as they came, were merry with anticipation; even the hags and the
+rheumatism-ridden male fossils croaked out their quips and coarse
+pleasantries to each other with gleeful unctuousness, inspired by
+thoughts of the generous contents of the secreted barrel. Their watery
+eyes watered the more, as, on entering the room, they glanced round
+seeking to discover the fiery store of liquor, which they hoped to help
+to dispose of. It was a loathsome sight to behold these miserable
+wretches gathering together with no thought in their beast-like brains
+but of the ample food and drink which they intended should fall to their
+share. Crabbed old age seeking rejuvenation in gut-burning spirit.</p>
+
+<p>The room quickly filled, and the chattering of many and strange tongues
+lent an apish tone to the function. The French half-breed predominated,
+and these spoke their bastard lingo with that rapidity and bristling
+elevation of tone which characterizes their Gallic relatives. It seemed
+as though each were trying to talk his neighbor down, and the process
+entailed excited shriekings which made the old barn ring again.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste, with a perfect understanding of the people, served out the
+spirit in pannikins with a lavish hand. It was as well to inspire these
+folk with the potent liquor from the start, that their energies might be
+fully aroused for the dance.</p>
+
+<p>When all, men and women alike, had partaken of an &quot;eye-opener,&quot; Baptiste
+gave the signal, and the fiddler struck up his plaintive wail. The reedy
+strings of his instrument shrieked out the long-drawn measure of a
+miserable waltz, the company paired off, and the dance began.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever else may be the failings of the Breeds they can dance. Dancing
+is as much a part of their nature as is the turning of a dog twice
+before he lies down, a feature of the canine race. Those who were
+physically incapable of dancing lined the walls and adorned the manger
+seats. For the rest, they occupied the sanded floor, and danced until
+the dust clouded the air and added to the choking foulness of the
+atmosphere.</p>
+
+<p>The shrieking fiddle lured this savage people, and its dreadful tone was
+music of the sweetest to their listening ears. This was a people who
+would dance. They would dance so long as they could stand.</p>
+
+<p>More drink followed the first dance. Baptiste had not yet recognized the
+pitch of enthusiasm which must promise a successful evening. The
+quantities of liquor thus devoured were appalling. The zest increased.
+The faces wearing an habitual frown displayed a budding smile. The
+natural smiler grinned broadly. All warmed to the evening's amusement.</p>
+
+<p>Now came the festive barn dance. The moccasined feet pounded the filthy
+floor, and the dust gathered thick round the gums of the hard-breathing
+dancers. The noise of coarse laughter and ribald shoutings increased.
+All were pleased with themselves, but more pleased still with the fiery
+liquid served out by Baptiste. The scene grew more wild as time crept
+on, and the effect of the liquor made itself apparent. The fiddler
+labored cruelly at his wretched instrument. His task was no light one,
+but he spared himself no pains. His measure must be even, his tone
+almost unending to satisfy his countrymen. He understood them, as did
+Baptiste. To fail in his work would mean angry protests from those he
+served, and angry protests amongst the Breeds generally took the form of
+a shower of leaden bullets. So he scraped away with aching limbs, and
+with heavy foot pounding out the time upon the crazy da&iuml;s. He must play
+until long after daylight, until his fingers cramped, and his old eyes
+would remain open no longer.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Retief had not as yet put in an appearance. Horrocks was at his
+post viewing the scene from outside one of the broken windows. His men
+were hard by, concealed at certain points in the shelter of some
+straggling bush which surrounded the stable. Horrocks, with
+characteristic energy and disregard for danger, had set himself the task
+of spying out the land. He had a waiting game to play, but the result he
+hoped would justify his action.</p>
+
+<p>The scene he beheld was not new to him, his duties so often carried him
+within the precincts of a half-breed camp. No one knew the Breeds better
+than did this police officer.</p>
+
+<p>Time passed. Again and again the fiddle ceased its ear-maddening screams
+as refreshment was partaken of by the dancers. Wilder and wilder grew
+the scene as the potent liquor took hold of its victims. They danced
+with more and more reckless abandon as each time they returned to step
+it to the fiddler's patient measure. Midnight approached and still no
+sign of Retief. Horrocks grew restless and impatient.</p>
+
+<p>Once the fiddle ceased, and the officer watching saw all eyes turn to
+the principal entrance to the barn. His heart leapt in anticipation as
+he gazed in the direction. Surely this sudden cessation could only
+herald the coming of Retief.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the door open as he craned forward to look. For the moment he
+could not see who entered; a crowd obscured his view. He heard a cheer
+and a clapping of hands, and he rejoiced. Then the crowd parted and he
+saw the slim figure of a girl pass down the center of the reeking den.
+She was clad in buckskin shirt and dungaree skirt. At the sight he
+muttered a curse. The newcomer was Jacky Allandale.</p>
+
+<p>He watched her closely as she moved amongst her uncouth surroundings.
+Her beautiful face and graceful figure was like to an oasis of stately
+flora in a desert of trailing, vicious brambles, and he marveled at the
+familiarity with which she came among these people. Moreover, he became
+beset with misgivings as he remembered the old stories which linked this
+girl's name with that of Retief. He struggled to fathom the meaning of
+what he saw, but the real significance of her coming escaped him.</p>
+
+<p>The Breeds once more returned to their dancing, and all went on as
+before. Horrocks followed Jacky's movements with his eyes. He saw her
+standing beside a toothless old woman, who wagged her cunning, aged head
+as she talked in answer to the girl's questions. Jacky seemed to be
+looking and inquiring for some one, and the officer wondered if the
+object of her solicitude was Retief. He would have been surprised had he
+known that she was inquiring and looking for himself. Presently she
+seated herself and appeared to be absorbed in the dance.</p>
+
+<p>The drink was flowing freely now, and a constant demand was being made
+upon Baptiste. Whilst the fiery spirit scorched down the hardened
+throats, strange, weird groans came from the fiddler's woeful
+instrument. The old man was tuning it down for the plaintive
+requirements of the Red River Jig.</p>
+
+<p>The dance of the evening was about to begin. Men and women primed
+themselves for the effort. Each was eager to outdo his or her neighbor
+in variety of steps and power of endurance. All were prepared to do or
+die. The mad jig was a national contest, and the one who lasted the
+longest would be held the champion dancer of the district&mdash;a coveted
+distinction amongst this strange people.</p>
+
+<p>At last the music began again, and now the familiar &quot;Ragtime&quot; beat
+fascinatingly upon the air. Those who lined the walls took up the
+measure, and, with foot and clapping hands, marked the time for the
+dancers. Those who competed leapt to the fray, and soon the reeking room
+became stifling with dust.</p>
+
+<p>The fiddler's time, slow at the commencement, soon grew faster, and the
+dancers shook their limbs in delighted anticipation. Faster and faster
+they shuffled and jigged, now opposite to partners, now round each
+other, now passing from one partner to another, now alone, for the
+admiration of the onlookers. Nor was there pause or hesitation. An
+instant's pause meant dropping out of that mad and old time &quot;hoe-down,&quot;
+and each coveted the distinction of champion. Faster and more wildly
+they footed it, and soon the speed caused some of the less agile to drop
+out. It was a giddy sight to watch, and the strange clapping of the
+spectators was not the least curious feature of the scene.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd of dancers grew thinner as the fiddler, with a marvelous
+display of latent energy, kept ever-increasing his speed.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself Horrocks became fascinated. There was something so
+barbarous&mdash;heathenish&mdash;in what he beheld. The minutes flew by, and the
+dance was rapidly nearing its height. More couples fell out, dead beat
+and gasping, but still there remained a number who would fight it out to
+the bitter end. The streaming faces and gaping lips of those yet
+remaining told of the dreadful strain. Another couple dropped out, the
+woman actually falling with exhaustion. She was dragged aside and left
+unnoticed in the wild excitement. Now were only three pairs left in the
+center of the floor.</p>
+
+<p>The police-officer found himself speculating as to which would be the
+winner of the contest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That brown-faced wench, with the flaming red dress, 'll do 'em all,&quot; he
+said to himself. The woman he was watching had a young Breed of great
+agility for her <i>vis-&agrave;-vis</i>. &quot;She or her partner 'll do it,&quot; he went on,
+almost audibly. &quot;Good,&quot; he was becoming enthusiastic, &quot;there's another
+couple done,&quot; as two more suddenly departed, and flung themselves on the
+ground exhausted. &quot;Yes, they'll do it&mdash;crums, but there goes her
+partner! Keep it up, girl&mdash;keep it up. The others won't be long. Stay
+with&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He broke off in alarm as he felt his arm suddenly clutched from behind.
+Simultaneously he felt heavy breathing blowing upon his cheek. Quick as
+a flash his revolver was whipped out and he swung round.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Easy, sergeant,&quot; said the voice of one of his troopers. &quot;For Gawd's
+sake don't shoot. Say, Retief's down at the settlement. A messenger's
+jest come up to say he's 'hustled' all our horses from Lablache's
+stable, and the old man himself's in trouble. Come over to that bluff
+yonder, the messenger's there. He's one of Lablache's clerks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The police-officer was dumbfounded, and permitted himself to be
+conducted to the bluff without a word. He was wondering if he were
+dreaming, so sudden and unexpected was the announcement of the disaster.</p>
+
+<p>When he halted at the bluff, the clerk was still discussing the affair
+with one of the troopers. As yet the other two were in their places of
+concealment, and were in ignorance of what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's dead right,&quot; the clerk said, in answer to Horrocks's sharply-put
+inquiry. &quot;I'd been in bed sometime when I was awakened by a terrible
+racket going on in the office. It's just under the room I sleep in.
+Well, I hopped out of bed and slipped on some clothes, and went
+downstairs, thinking the governor had been taken with a fit or
+something. When I got down the office was in darkness, and quiet as
+death. I went cautiously to work, for I was a bit scared. Striking a
+light I made my way in, expecting to find the governor laid out, but,
+instead, I found the furniture all chucked about and the room empty. It
+wasn't two shakes before I lit upon this sheet of paper. It was lying on
+the desk. The governor's writing is unmistakable. You can see for
+yourself; here it is&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks took the sheet, and, by the light of a match read the scrawl
+upon it. The writing had evidently been done in haste, but its meaning
+was clear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Retief is here,&quot; it ran. &quot;I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.
+LABLACHE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>After reading, Horrocks turned to the clerk, who immediately went on
+with his story.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I just bolted out to the stables intending to take a horse and go
+over to 'Poker' John's. But when I got there I found the doors open, an'
+every blessed horse gone. Yes, your horses as well&mdash;and the governor's
+buckboard too. I jest had a look round, saw that the team harness had
+gone with the rest, then I ran as hard as I could pelt to the Foss River
+Ranch. I found old John up, but he'd been drinking, so, after a bit of
+talk, I learned from him where you were and came right along. That's
+all, sergeant, and bad enough it is too. I'm afraid they'll string the
+governor up. He ain't too popular, you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The clerk finished up his breathless narrative in a way that left no
+doubt in the mind of his hearers as to his sincerity. He was trembling
+with nervous excitement still. And even in the starlight the look upon
+his face spoke of real concern for his master.</p>
+
+<p>For some seconds the officer did not reply. He was thinking rapidly. To
+say that he was chagrined would hardly convey his feelings. He had been
+done&mdash;outwitted&mdash;and he knew it. Done&mdash;like the veriest tenderfoot. He,
+an officer of wide experience and of considerable reputation. And worst
+of all he remembered Lablache's warning. He, the money-lender, had been
+more far-seeing&mdash;had understood something of the trap which he,
+Horrocks, had plunged headlong into. The thought was as worm-wood to the
+prairie man, and helped to cloud his judgment as he now sought for the
+best course to adopt. He saw now with bitter, mental self-reviling, how
+the story that Gautier had told him&mdash;and for which he had paid&mdash;and
+which had been corroborated by the conversation he had heard in the
+camp, had been carefully prepared by the wily Retief; and how he, like a
+hungry, simple fish, had deliberately risen and devoured the bait. He
+was maddened by the thought, too, that the money-lender had been right
+and he wrong, and took but slight solace from the fact that the chief
+disaster had overtaken that great man.</p>
+
+<p>However, it was plain that something must be done at once to assist
+Lablache, and he cast about in his mind for the best means to secure the
+money-lender's release. In his dilemma a recollection came to him of the
+presence of Jacky Allandale in the barn, and a feeling nearly akin to
+revenge came to him. He felt that in some way this girl was connected
+with, and knew of, the doings of Retief.</p>
+
+<p>With a hurried order to remain where they were to his men he returned to
+his station at the window of the barn. He looked in, searching for the
+familiar figure of the girl. Dancing had ceased, and the howling Breeds
+were drinking heavily. Jacky was no longer to be seen, and, with bitter
+disappointment, he turned again to rejoin his companions. There was
+nothing left to do but to hasten to the settlement and procure fresh
+horses.</p>
+
+<p>He had hardly turned from the window when several shots rang out on the
+night air. They came from the direction in which he was moving.
+Instantly he comprehended that an attack was being made upon his
+troopers. He drew his pistol and dashed forward at a run. Three paces
+sufficed to terminate his race. Silence had followed the firing of the
+shots he had heard. Suddenly his quick ears detected the hiss of a
+lariat whistling through the air. He spread out his arms to ward it off.
+He felt something fall upon them. He tried to throw it off, and, the
+next instant the rope jerked tight round his throat, and he was hurled,
+choking, backwards upon the ground.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX" />CHAPTER XIX - LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lablache was alone in his office. He was more alone than he had ever
+been in his life; or, at least, he felt more alone&mdash;which amounted to
+much the same thing. Possibly, had he been questioned on the subject, he
+would have pooh-poohed the idea, but, nevertheless, in his secret heart
+he felt that, in spite of his vast wealth, he was a lonely man. He knew
+that he had not a single friend in Foss River; and in Calford, another
+center of his great wealth, things were no better. His methods of
+business, whilst they brought him many familiar acquaintances&mdash;a large
+circle of people who were willing to trade, repelled all approach to
+friendship. Besides, his personality was against him. His flinty
+disposition and unscrupulous love of power were all detrimental to human
+affection.</p>
+
+<p>As a rule, metaphorically speaking, he snapped his fingers at these
+things. Moreover, he was glad that such was the case; he could the more
+freely indulge his passion for grab. Hated, he could work out his
+peculiar schemes without qualms of conscience; loved, it would have been
+otherwise. Yes, Lablache preferred this social ostracism.</p>
+
+<p>But the great money-lender had his moments of weakness&mdash;moments when he
+rebelled against his solitary lot. He knew that his isolated position
+had been brought about by himself&mdash;fostered by himself, and he knew he
+preferred that it should be so. But, nevertheless, at times he felt very
+lonely, and in these moments of weakness he wondered if he obtained full
+consolation in his great wealth for his marooned position. Generally the
+result of these reflections brought him satisfaction. How? is a
+question. Possibly he forced himself, by that headstrong power with
+which he bent others who came into contact with him to his will, to such
+a conclusion. Lablache was certainly a triumph of relentless purpose
+over flesh and feelings.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was nearly fifty, and had lived alone since he was in his
+teens. Now he pined as all who live a solitary life must some day pine,
+for a companion to share his loneliness. He craved not for the society
+of his own sex. With the instinct in us all he wanted a mate to share
+with him his golden nest. But this mass of iron nerve and obesity was
+not as other men. He did not weakly crave, and then, with his wealth,
+set out to secure a wife who could raise him in the social scale, or add
+to the bags which he had watched grow in bulk from flattened folds of
+sacking, to the distended proportions of miniature balloons. No, he
+desired a girl, the only relation of a man whom he had helped to ruin&mdash;a
+girl who could bring him no social distinction, and who could not add
+one penny piece to his already enormous wealth. Moreover, strangely
+enough, he had conceived for her a passion which was absolutely unholy
+in its intensity. It is needless, then, to add, when, speaking of such a
+man, that, willing or not, he intended that Jacky Allandale should be
+his.</p>
+
+<p>Thoughts of this wild, quarter-breed girl filled his brain as he sat
+solitary in his little office on the night of the pusky. He sat in his
+favorite chair, in his favorite position. He was lounging back with his
+slippered feet resting on the burnished steel foot-rests of the stove.
+There was no fire in the stove, of course, but from force of habit he
+gazed thoughtfully at the mica sides which surrounded the firebox.
+Probably in this position he had thought out some of his most dastardly
+financial schemes and therefore most suitable it seemed now as he
+calculated his chances of capturing the wild prairie girl for his mate.</p>
+
+<p>He had given up all thoughts of ever obtaining her willing consent, and,
+although his vanity had been hurt by her rejection of his advances,
+still he was not the man to be easily thwarted. His fertile brain had
+evolved a means by which to achieve his end, and, to his scheme-loving
+nature, the process was anything but distasteful. He had always, from
+the first moment he had decided to make Jacky Allandale his wife, been
+prepared for such a contingency as her refusal, and had never missed an
+opportunity of ensnaring her uncle in his financial toils. He had
+understood the old man's weakness, and, with satanic cunning, had set
+himself to the task of wholesale robbery, with crushing results to his
+victim. This had given him the necessary power to further prosecute his
+suit. As yet he had not displayed his hand. He felt that the time was
+barely ripe. Before putting the screw on the Allandales it had been his
+object to rid the place, and his path, of his only stumbling block. In
+this he had not quite succeeded as we have seen. He quite understood
+that the Hon. Bunning-Ford must be removed from Foss River first. Whilst
+he was on hand Jacky would be difficult to coerce. Instinctively he knew
+that &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was her lover, and, with him at hand to advise her,
+Jacky would hold out to the last. However, he believed that in the end
+he must conquer. Bunning-Ford's resources were very limited he knew, and
+soon his hated rival must leave the settlement and seek pastures new.
+Lablache was but a clever scheming mortal. He did not credit others with
+brains of equal caliber, much less cleverer and more resourceful than
+his own. It had been better for him had his own success in life been
+less assured, for then he would have been more doubtful of his own
+ability to do as he wished, and he would have given his adversaries
+credit for a cleverness which he now considered as only his.</p>
+
+<p>After some time spent in surveying and considering his plans his
+thoughts reverted to other matters. This was the night of the half-breed
+pusky. His great face contorted into a sarcastic smile as he thought of
+Sergeant Horrocks. He remembered with vivid acuteness every incident of
+his interview with the officer two nights ago. He bore the man no
+malice now for the contradiction of himself, for the reason that he was
+sure his own beliefs on the subject of Retief would be amply realized.
+His lashless eyes quivered as his thoughts invoked an inward mirth. No
+one realized more fully than did this man the duplicity and cunning of
+the Breed. He anticipated a great triumph over Horrocks the next time he
+saw him.</p>
+
+<p>As the time passed on he became more himself. His loneliness did not
+strike him so keenly. He felt that after all there was great
+satisfaction to be drawn from a watcher's observance of men. Isolated as
+he was he was enabled to look on men and things more critically than he
+otherwise would be.</p>
+
+<p>He reached over to his tobacco jar, which stood upon his desk, and
+leisurely proceeded to fill his pipe. It was rarely he indulged himself
+in an idle evening, but to-night he somehow felt that idleness would be
+good. He was beginning to feel the weight of his years.</p>
+
+<p>He lit his heavy briar and proceeded to envelop himself in a cloud of
+smoke. He gasped out a great sigh of satisfaction, and his leathery
+eyelids half closed. Presently a gentle tap came at the glass door,
+which partitioned off the office from the store. Lablache called out a
+guttural &quot;Come in,&quot; at the same time glancing at the loud ticking
+&quot;alarm&quot; on the desk. He knew who his visitor was.</p>
+
+<p>One of the clerks opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is past ten, sir, shall I close up?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, close up. Whose evening off is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rodgers, sir. He is still out. He'll be in before midnight, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, down at the saloon, I expect,&quot; said Lablache, drily. &quot;Well, bolt
+the front door. Just leave it on the spring latch. I shall be up until
+he comes in. What are you two boys going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Going to bed, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right; good-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good-night, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The door closed quietly after the clerk, and Lablache heard his two
+assistants close up the store and then go upstairs to their rooms. The
+money-lender was served well. His employees in the store had been with
+him for years. They were worked very hard and their pay was not great,
+but their money was sure, and their employment was all the year round.
+So many billets upon the prairie depended upon the seasons&mdash;opulence one
+month and idleness the next. On the ranches it was often worse. There is
+but little labor needed in the winter. And those who have the good
+fortune to be employed all the year round generally experience a
+reduction in wages at the end of the fall round-up, and find themselves
+doing the &quot;chores&quot; when winter comes on.</p>
+
+<p>After the departure of the clerk Lablache re-settled himself and went on
+smoking placidly. The minutes ticked slowly away. An occasional groan
+from the long-suffering basket chair, and the wreathing clouds of smoke
+were the only appreciable indication of life in that little room.
+By-and-by the great man reached a memorandum tablet from his desk and
+dotted down a few hurried figures. Then he breathed a great sigh, and
+his face wore a look of satisfaction. There could be no doubt as to the
+tenor of his thoughts. Money, money. It was as life to him.</p>
+
+<p>The distant rattle of the spring lock of the store front door being
+snapped-to disturbed the quiet of the office. Lablache heard the sound.
+Then followed the bolting of the door. The money-lender turned again to
+his figures. It was the return of Rodgers, he thought, which had
+disturbed him. He soon became buried in further calculations. While
+figuring he unconsciously listened for the sound of the clerk's
+footsteps on the stairs as he made his way up to his room. The sound did
+not come. The room was clouded with tobacco smoke, and still Lablache
+belched out fresh clouds to augment the reek of the atmosphere. Suddenly
+the glass door opened. The money-lender heard the handle move.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh, what is it, Rodgers?&quot; he said, in a displeased tone. As he spoke
+he peered through the smoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What d'you want?&quot; he exclaimed angrily. Then he rubbed his eyes and
+craned forward only to fall back again with a muttered curse. He had
+stared into the muzzle of a heavy six-shooter.</p>
+
+<p>He moved his hand as though to throw his memorandum pad on the desk, but
+instantly a stern voice ordered him to desist and the threatening
+revolver came closer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jest stay right thar, pard.&quot; The words were spoken in an exaggerated
+Western drawl. &quot;My barker's mighty light in the trigger. I guess it
+don't take a hundred-weight to loose it. And I don't cotton to mucking
+up this floor with yer vitals.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache remained still. He saw before him the tall thin figure of a
+half-breed. He had black lank hair which hung loosely down almost on to
+his shoulders. His face was the color of mud, and he was possessed of a
+pair of keen gray eyes and a thin-hooked nose. His face wore a lofty
+look of command, and was stamped by an expression of the unmost
+resolution. He spoke easily and showed not the smallest haste.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess we ain't met before, boss&mdash;not familiar-like, leastways. My
+name's Retief&mdash;Peter Retief, an' I take it yours is Lablache. Now I've
+jest come right along to do biz with you&mdash;how does that fit your
+bowels?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The compelling ring of metal faced the astonished money-lender. For the
+moment he remained speechless.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wal?&quot; drawled the other, with elaborate significance.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache struggled for words. His astonishment&mdash;dismay made the effort a
+difficult one.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You've got the drop on me you&mdash;you damned scoundrel,&quot; he at last burst
+out, his face for the moment purpling with rage. &quot;I'm forced to listen
+to you now,&quot; he went on more gutturally, as the paroxysm having found
+vent began to pass, &quot;but watch yourself that you make no bad reckoning,
+or you'll regret this business until the rope's round your neck. You'll
+get nothing out of me&mdash;but what you take. Now then, be sharp. What are
+you going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed grinned.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You're mighty raw oh the hide jest now, I guess. But see hyar, my
+reckonin's are nigh as slick as yours. An' jest slant yer tongue some.
+'Damned scoundrel' sliden' from yer flannel face is like a coyote
+roundin' on a timber wolf, an' a coyote ain't as low down as a skunk. I
+opine I want a deal from you,&quot; Retief went on, with a hollow laugh, &quot;and
+wot I want I mostly git, in these parts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was no coward. And even now he had not the smallest fear for
+his life. But the thought of being bluffed by the very man he was
+willing to pay so much for the capture of riled him almost beyond
+endurance. The Breed noted the effect of his words and pushed his pistol
+almost to within arm's reach of the money-lender's face.</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed's face suddenly became stem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's a dandy ranch of yours down south. Me an' my pards 'ave taken a
+notion to it. Say, you're comin' right along with us. Savee? Guess we'll
+show you the slickest round up this side o' the border. Now jest sit
+right thar while I let my mates in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Retief took no chances. Lablache, under pistol compulsion, was forced to
+remain motionless in his chair. The swarthy Breed backed cautiously to
+the door until his hand rested upon the spring catch. This, with deft
+fingers, he turned and then forced back, and the next moment he was
+joined by two companions as dark as himself and likewise dressed in the
+picturesque garb of the prairie &quot;hustler.&quot; The money-lender, in spite of
+his predicament, was keenly alert, and lost no detail of the new-comers'
+appearance. He took a careful mental photograph of each of the men,
+trusting that he might find the same useful in the future. He wondered
+what the next move would be. He eyed the Breed's pistol furtively, and
+thought of his own weapon lying on his desk at the corner farthest from
+him. He knew there was no possible chance of reaching it. The slightest
+unbidden move on his part would mean instant death. He understood, only
+too well, how lightly human, life was held by these people. Implicit
+obedience alone could save him. In those few thrilling moments he had
+still time to realize the clever way in which both he and Horrocks had
+been duped. He had never for a moment believed in Gautier's story, but
+had still less dreamed of such a daring outrage as was now being
+perpetrated. He had not long to wait for developments. Directly the two
+men were inside, and the door was again closed, Retief pointed to the
+money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hustle, boys&mdash;the rope. Lash his feet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One of the men produced an old lariat In a trice the great man's feet
+were fast.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His hands?&quot; said one of the men.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess not. He's goin' to write, some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache instantly thought of his cheque-book. But Retief had no fancy
+for what he considered was useless paper.</p>
+
+<p>The hustler stepped over to the desk. His keen eyes spotted the
+money-lender's pistol lying upon the far corner of it. He had also noted
+his prisoner casting furtive glances in the direction of it. To prevent
+any mischance he picked the gleaming weapon up and slipped it into his
+hip pocket. After that he drew a sheet of foolscap from the stationery
+case and laid it on the blotting pad. Then he turned to his comrades.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jest help old money-bags over,&quot; he said quietly. He was thoroughly
+alert, and as calmly indifferent to the danger of discovery as if he
+were engaged on the most righteous work.</p>
+
+<p>When Lablache had been hoisted and pushed into position at the desk the
+raider took up a pen and held it out towards him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write,&quot; he said laconically.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache hesitated. He looked from the pen to the man's leveled pistol.
+Then he reluctantly took the pen. The half-breed promptly dictated, and
+the other wrote. The compulsion was exasperating, and the great man
+scrawled with all the pettishness of a child.</p>
+
+<p>The message read&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Retief is here. I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now sign,&quot; said the Breed, when the message was written.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache signed and flung down the pen.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's that for?&quot; he demanded huskily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For?&quot; His captor shrugged. &quot;I guess them gophers of police are snugly
+trussed by now. Mebbe, though, one o' them might 'a' got clear away.
+When they find you're gone, they'll light on that paper. I jest want 'em
+to come right along after us. Savee? It'll 'most surprise 'em when they
+come along.&quot; Then he turned to his men. &quot;Now, boys, lash his hands, and
+cut his feet adrift. Then, into the buckboard with him. Guess his
+carcase is too bulky for any 'plug' to carry. Get a hustle on, lads.
+We've hung around here long enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The men stepped forward to obey their chief, but, at that moment,
+Lablache gave another display of that wonderful agility of his of which,
+at times, he was capable. His rage got the better of him, and even under
+the muzzle of his captor's pistol he was determined to resist. We have
+said that the money-lender was no coward; at that moment he was
+desperate.</p>
+
+<p>The nearest Breed received a terrific buffet in the neck, then, in spite
+of his bound feet, Lablache seized his heavy swivel chair, and, raising
+it with all his strength he hurled it at the other. Still Relief's
+pistol was silent. The money-lender noticed the fact, and he became even
+more assured. He turned heavily and aimed a blow at the &quot;hustler.&quot; But,
+even as he struck, he felt the weight of Retief's hand, and struggling
+to steady himself&mdash;his bound feet impeding him&mdash;he overbalanced and fell
+heavily to the ground. In an instant the Breeds were upon him. His own
+handkerchief was used to gag him, and his hands were secured. Then,
+without a moment's delay, he was hoisted from the floor&mdash;his great
+weight bearing his captors down&mdash;and carried bodily out of the office
+and thrown into his own buckboard, which was waiting at the door. Retief
+sprang into the driving seat whilst one of the Breeds held the prisoner
+down, some other dark figures leapt into the saddles of several waiting
+horses, and the party dashed off at a breakneck speed.</p>
+
+<p>The gleaming stars gave out more than sufficient light for the desperate
+teamster. He swung the well-fed, high-mettled horses of the money-lender
+round, and headed right through the heart of the settlement. The
+audacity of this man was superlative. He lashed the animals into a
+gallop which made the saddle horses extend themselves to keep up. On, on
+into the night they raced, and almost in a flash the settlement was
+passed. The sleepy inhabitants of Foss River heard the mad racing of the
+horses but paid no heed. The daring of the raider was his safeguard.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache knew their destination. They were traveling southward, and he
+felt that their object was his own ranch.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX" />CHAPTER XX - A NIGHT OF TERROR</h2>
+
+
+<p>That midnight drive was one long nightmare to the unfortunate captive.
+He had been thrown, sprawling, into the iron-railed &quot;carryall&quot; platform
+at the back of the buckboard, and lay on the nut-studded slats, where he
+was jolted and bumped about like the proverbial pea on a drum.</p>
+
+<p>When the raider changed his direction, and turned off the trail on to
+the open prairie, the horrors of the prisoner's position were
+intensified a hundredfold. Alone, there was insufficient room for the
+suffering man in the limited space of the &quot;carryall,&quot; but beside him
+sat, or rather crouched, a burly Breed, ready at a moment's notice to
+quash any attempt at escape on the part of the wretched money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>Thus he was borne along, mile after mile, southward towards his own
+ranch. Sometimes during that terrible ride Lablache found time to wonder
+what was the object of these people in thus kidnapping him. Surely if
+they only meant to carry off his cattle, such a task could have been
+done without bringing him along with them. It seemed to him that there
+could be only one interpretation put upon the matter, and, in spite of
+his present agonies, the great man shuddered as he thought.</p>
+
+<p>Courageous as he was, he endured a period of mental agony which took all
+the heart out of him. He understood the methods of the prairie so well
+that he feared the very worst. A tree&mdash;a lariat&mdash;and he saw, in fancy, a
+crowd of carrion swarming round his swinging body. He could conceive no
+other object, and his nerves became racked almost to breaking pitch.</p>
+
+<p>The real truth of the situation was beyond his wildest dreams. The
+significance of the fact that this second attack was made against him
+was lost upon the wretched man. He only seemed to realize with natural
+dread that Retief&mdash;the terror of the countryside&mdash;was in this, therefore
+the outcome must surely be the very worst.</p>
+
+<p>At length the horses drew up at Lablache's lonely ranch. His nearest
+neighbor was not within ten miles of him. With that love of power and
+self aggrandisement which always characterized him, the money-lender had
+purchased from the Government a vast tract of country, and retained
+every acre of it for his own stock. It might have stood him in good
+stead now had he let portions of his grazing, and so settled up the
+district. As it was, his ranch was characteristic of himself&mdash;isolated;
+and he knew that Retief could here work his will with little chance of
+interference.</p>
+
+<p>As Lablache was hoisted from the buckboard and set upon his feet, and
+the gag was removed from his mouth, the first thing he noticed was the
+absolute quiescence of the place. He wondered if his foreman and the
+hands were yet sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>He was not long left in doubt. Retief gave a few rapid orders to his
+men, and as he did so Lablache observed, for the first time, that the
+Breeds numbered at least half-a-dozen. He felt sure that not more than
+four besides their chief had traveled with them, and yet now the number
+had increased.</p>
+
+<p>The obvious conclusion was that the others were already here at the time
+of the arrival of the buckboard, doubtless with the purpose of carrying
+out Retief's plans.</p>
+
+<p>The Breeds moved off in various directions, and their chief and the
+money-lender were left alone. As soon as the others were out of earshot
+the raider approached his captive. His face seemed to have undergone
+some subtle change. The lofty air of command had been replaced by a look
+of bitter hatred and terrible cruelty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Lablache,&quot; he said coldly, &quot;I guess you're goin' to see some fun.
+I ain't mostly hard on people. I like to do the thing han'some. Say
+I'll jest roll this bar'l 'long so as you ken set. An' see hyar, ef
+you're mighty quiet I'll loose them hands o' yours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache deigned no reply, but the other was as good as his word.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sulky, some, I guess,&quot; the half-breed went on. &quot;Wal, I'm not goin' back
+on my word,&quot; he added as he rolled the barrel up to his prisoner and
+scotched it securely. &quot;Thar, set.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender didn't move.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Set!&quot; This time the word conveyed a command and the other sat down on
+the barrel.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I can't stand cantankerous cusses. Now, let's have a look at yer
+bracelets.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He sat beside his captive and proceeded to loosen the rope which bound
+his wrists. Then he quietly drew his pistol and rested it on his knee.
+Lablache enjoyed his freedom, but wondered what was coming next.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of silence while the two men gazed at the corrals and
+buildings set out before them. Away to the right, on a rising ground,
+stood a magnificent house built of red pine lumber. Lablache had built
+this as a dwelling for himself. For the prairie it was palatial, and
+there was nothing in the country to equal it. This building alone had
+cost sixty thousand dollars. On a lower level there were the great
+barns. Four or five of these stood linked up by smaller buildings and
+quarters for the ranch hands. Then there was a stretch of low buildings
+which were the boxes built for the great man's thoroughbred stud horses.
+He was possessed of six such animals, and their aggregate cost ran into
+thousands of pounds, each one having been imported from England.</p>
+
+<p>Then there were the corrals with their great ten-foot walls, all built
+of the finest pine logs cut from the mountain forests. These corrals
+covered acres of ground and were capable of sheltering five thousand
+head of cattle without their capacity being taxed. It was an ideal place
+and represented a considerable fortune. Lablache noticed that the
+corrals were entirely empty. He longed to ask his captor for
+explanation, but would not give that swarthy individual the satisfaction
+of imparting unpleasant information.</p>
+
+<p>However, Retief did not intend to let the money-lender off lightly. The
+cruel expression of his face deepened as he followed the direction of
+Lablache's gaze.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fine place, this,&quot; he said, with a comprehensive nod. &quot;Cost a pile o'
+dollars, I take it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You ain't got much stock. Guess the boys 'ave helped themselves
+liberal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache turned his face towards his companion. He was fast being drawn.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Heard 'em gassin' about twenty thousand head some days back. Guess
+they've borrowed 'em,&quot; he went on indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You villain!&quot; the exasperated prisoner hissed at last.</p>
+
+<p>If ever a look conveyed a lust for murder Lablache's lashless eyes
+expressed it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh? What? Guess you ain't well.&quot; The icy tones mocked at the distraught
+captive.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My cattle are on the range. You could never have driven off twenty
+thousand head. It would have been impossible without my hearing of it.
+It is more than one night's work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so,&quot; replied the half-breed, smiling sardonically. &quot;Say, your
+hands and foreman are shut up in their shack. They've bin taking things
+easy fur a day or two. Jest to give my boys a free hand. Guess we've
+been at work here these three days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender groaned inwardly. He understood the Breed's meaning
+only too well. At last his bottled-up rage broke out again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you man or devil that you spirit away great herds like this.
+Across the keg, I know, but how&mdash;how? Twenty thousand! My God, you'll
+swing for this night's work,&quot; he went on impotently. &quot;The whole
+countryside will be after you. I am not the man to sit down quietly
+under such handling. If I spend every cent I'm possessed of, you shall
+be hounded down until you dare not show your face on this side of the
+border.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Easy, boss,&quot; the Breed retorted imperturbably. &quot;Ef you want to see that
+precious store o' yours again a civil tongue 'll help you best. I'm
+mostly a patient man&mdash;easy goin'-like. Now jest keep calm an' I'll let
+you see the fun. Now that's a neat shack o' yours,&quot; he went on, pointing
+to the money-lender's mansion. &quot;Wonder ef I could put a dose o' lead
+into one o' the windows from here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache began to think he was dealing with a madman. He remained
+silent, and the Breed leveled his pistol in the direction of the house
+and fired. A moment's silence followed the sharp report. Then Retief
+turned to his captive.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I didn't hear any glass smash. Likely I missed it,&quot; and he
+chuckled fiendishly. Lablache sat gazing moodily at the building. Then
+the half-breed's voice roused him. &quot;Hello, wot's that?&quot; He was pointing
+at the house. &quot;Why, some galoot's lightin' a bonfire! Say, that's
+dangerous Lablache. They might fire your place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But the other did not answer. His eyes were staring wide with horror. As
+if in answer to the pistol-shot a fire had been lit against the side of
+the house. It was no ordinary fire, either, but a great pile of hay. The
+flames shot up with terrible swiftness, licking up the side of the red
+pine house with lightning rapidity. Lablache understood. The house was
+to be demolished, and Retief had given the signal. He leapt up from his
+seat, forgetful of his bound feet, and made as though to seize the Breed
+by the throat. He got no further, however, for Retief gripped him by the
+shoulder, and, notwithstanding his great bulk, hurled him back on to the
+barrel, at the same time pressing the muzzle of his pistol into his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Set down, you scum,&quot; he thundered. &quot;Another move like that an' I'll
+let the atmosphere into yer.&quot; Then with a Sudden return to his grim
+pastime, as the other remained quiet, &quot;Say, red pine makes powerful fine
+kindlin'. I reckon they'll see that light at the settlement. You don't
+seem pleased, man. Ain't it a beaut. Look, they've started it the other
+side. Now the smoke stack's caught. Burn, burn, you beauty. Look,
+Lablache, a sixty thousand dollar fire, an' all yours. Ain't you proud
+to think that it's all yours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was speechless with horror. Words failed to express his
+feelings. The Breed watched him as a tiger might contemplate its
+helpless prey. He understood something of the agony the great man was
+suffering. He wanted him to suffer&mdash;he meant him to suffer. But he had
+only just begun the torture he had so carefully prepared for his victim.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the roof of the building crashed in, and, for the moment, the
+blaze leapt high. Then, soon, it began to die down. Retief seemed to
+tire of watching the dying blaze. He turned again to his prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not 'nough, eh? Not 'nough. We can't stop here all night. Let's have
+the rest. The sight'll warm your heart.&quot; And he laughed at his own grim
+pleasantry. &quot;The boys have cleared out your stud 'plugs.' And, I guess,
+yer barns are chocked full of yer wheel gearing and implements. Say, I
+guess we'll have 'em next.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned from his silent captive without waiting for reply, and rapidly
+discharged the remaining five barrels of his pistol. For answer another
+five bonfires were lighted round the barns and corals. Almost instantly
+the whole place became a gorgeous blaze of light. The entire ranch, with
+the exception of one little shack was now burning as only pine wood can
+burn. It was a terrible, never-to-be-forgotten sight, and Lablache
+groaned audibly as he saw the pride of his wealth rapidly gutted. If
+ever a man suffered the money-lender suffered that night Retief showed
+a great understanding of his prisoner&mdash;far too great an understanding
+for a man who was supposed to be a stranger to Lablache&mdash;in the way he
+set about to torture his victim. No bodily pain could have equaled the
+mental agony to which the usurer was submitted. The sight of the
+demolishing of his beautiful ranch&mdash;probably the most beautiful in the
+country&mdash;was a cruelly exquisite torture to the money-loving man. That
+dread conflagration represented the loss to him of a fortune, for, with
+grasping pusillanimity, Lablache had refused to insure his property. Had
+Retief known this he could not have served his own purpose better.
+Possibly he did know, and possibly that was the inducement which
+prompted his action. Truly was the money-lender paying dearly for past
+misdeeds. With the theft of his cattle and the burning of his ranch his
+loss was terrible, and, in his moment of anguish, he dared not attempt
+to calculate the extent of the catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>When the fire was at its height Retief again addressed his taunting
+language to the man beside him, and Lablache writhed under the lash of
+that scathing tongue.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've heerd tell you wer' mighty proud of this place of yours. Spent
+piles o' bills on it. Nothin' like circulatin' cash, I guess. Say now,
+how long did it take you to fix them shacks up?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No answer. Lablache was beyond mere words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A sight longer than it takes a bit of kindlin' to fetch 'em down, I
+take it,&quot; he went on placidly. &quot;When d'ye think you'll start
+re-building? I wonder,&quot; thoughtfully, &quot;why they don't fire that shed
+yonder,&quot; pointing to the only building left untouched. &quot;Ah, I was
+forgettin', that's whar your hands are enjoyin' themselves. It's
+thoughtful o' the boys. I guess they're good lads. They don't cotton to
+killin' prairie hands. But they ain't so particular over useless lumps
+o' flesh, I guess,&quot; with a glance at the stricken man beside him.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was gasping heavily. The mental strain was almost more than he
+could bear, and his crushed and hopeless attitude brought a satanic
+smile on the cruel face beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You don't seem to fancy things much,&quot; Retief went on. &quot;Guess you ain't
+enjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like this
+fur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?&quot; as the barrel on which they were
+seated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. &quot;I hadn't a
+notion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Them
+barns,&quot; he added, pointing, towards the fire, &quot;was built mighty solid.
+They're on'y jest cavin'.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache remained silent. Words, he felt, would be useless. In fact it
+is doubtful if he would have been equal to expression. His spirit was
+crushed and he feared the man beside him as he had never feared any
+human being before. Such was the nervous strain put upon him that the
+sense of his loss was rapidly absorbed in a dread for his own personal
+safety. The conflagration had lost its fascination for him, and at every
+move&mdash;every word&mdash;of his captor he dreaded the coming of his own end. It
+was a physical and mental collapse, and bordered closely on frenzied
+terror. It was no mental effort of his own that kept him from hurling
+himself upon the other and biting and tearing in a vain effort to rend
+the life out of him. The thought&mdash;the fever, desire, craving&mdash;was there,
+but the will, the personality, of the Breed held him spellbound, an
+inert mass of flesh incapable of physical effort&mdash;incapable almost of
+thought, but a prey to an overwhelming terror.</p>
+
+<p>The watching half-breed at length rose from his seat and shrugged his
+thin, stooping shoulders. He had had enough of his pastime, and time was
+getting on. He had other work to do before daylight. He put his hand to
+his mouth and imitated the cry of the coyote. An instant later answering
+cries came from various directions, and presently the Breeds gathered
+round their chief.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, bring up the 'plugs,' lads. The old boy's had his bellyfull. I
+guess we'll git on.&quot; Then he turned upon the broken money-lender and
+spoke while he re-charged the chambers of his pistol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See hyar, Lablache, this night's work is on'y a beginning. So long as
+you live in Foss River Settlement so long will I hunt you out an' hustle
+yer stock. You talked of houndin' me, but I guess the shoe's on the
+other foot. I ain't finished by a sight, an' you'll hear from me agin'.
+I don't fancy yer life,&quot; he went on with a grin. &quot;Et's too easy, I
+guess. Et's yer bills I'm after. Ye've got plenty an' to spare. But
+bills is all-fired awk'ud to handle when they pass thro' your dirty
+hands. So I'll wait till you've turned 'em into stock. Savee? I'm jest
+goin' right on now. Thar's a bunch o' yer steers waitin' to be taken
+off. Happen I'm goin' to see to 'em right away. One o' these lads'll
+jest set some bracelets on yer hands, and leave yer tucked up and
+comfortable so you can't do any harm, and you can set right thar an'
+wait till some 'un comes along an' looses yer. So long, pard, an'
+remember, Foss River's the hottest place outside o' hell fur you, jest
+now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Some of the half-breeds had brought up the horses whilst Retief was
+talking, and, as he finished speaking, the hustler vaulted on to the
+back of the great chestnut, Golden Eagle, and prepared to ride away.
+Whilst the others were getting into their saddles he took one look at
+the wretched captive whose hands had been again secured. There was a
+swift exchange of glances&mdash;malevolent and murderous on the part of the
+money-lender, and derisive on the part of the half-breed&mdash;then Retief
+swung his charger round, and, at the head of his men, galloped away out
+into the starry night.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI" />CHAPTER XXI - HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG</h2>
+
+
+<p>The rope which brought Horrocks to the ground came near to strangling
+him. He struggled wildly as he fell, and, as he struggled, the grip of
+the rope tightened. He felt that the blood was ready to burst from his
+temples and eyes. Then everything seemed to swim about him and he
+believed consciousness was leaving him. Everything was done in a moment
+and yet he seemed to be passing through an eternity of time.</p>
+
+<p>The lariat is a handy weapon, but to truly appreciate its merits one
+must be a prairie man. The Breeds are prairie men. They understand fully
+the uses to which a &quot;rope&quot; may be put. For criminal purposes they
+appreciate its silent merits, and the dexterity with which they can use
+it makes its value equal to, and even surpass, the noisier and more
+tell-tale pistol.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing that the policeman knew was that he was stretched on his
+back upon the ground, disarmed, and with a great bandanna secured about
+his eyes and mouth, and his hands tied behind his back. Then a gruff
+voice bade him rise, and, as he silently obeyed, he was glad to feel
+that the gripping lariat was removed from his throat. Truly had the
+officer's pride gone before a fall. And his feelings were now of the
+deepest chagrin. He stood turning his head from side to side, blindly
+seeking to penetrate the bandage about his eyes. He knew where he was,
+of course, but he would have given half his year's salary for a sight of
+his assailants.</p>
+
+<p>He was not given long for his futile efforts. The same rough voice
+which had bade him rise now ordered him to walk, and he found himself
+forced forward by the aid of a heavy hand which gripped one of his arms.
+The feeling of a blindfold walk is not a happy one, and the officer
+experienced a strange sensation of falling as he was urged he knew not
+whither. After a few steps he was again halted, and then he felt himself
+seized from behind and lifted bodily into a conveyance.</p>
+
+<p>He quickly realized that he was in a buckboard. The slats which formed
+the body of it, as his feet lit upon them, told him this. Then two men
+jumped in after him and he found himself seated between them. And so he
+was driven off.</p>
+
+<p>In justice to Horrocks it must be said that he experienced no fear.
+True, his chagrin was very great. He saw only too plainly what want of
+discretion he had displayed in trusting to the Breed's story, but he
+felt that his previous association with the rascal warranted his
+credulity, and the outcome must be regarded as the fortune of war. He
+only wondered what strange experience this blindfold journey was to
+forerun. There was not the least doubt in his mind as to whose was the
+devising of this well-laid and well-carried-out plot. Retief, he knew,
+must be answerable for the plan, and the method displayed in its
+execution plainly showed him that every detail had been carefully
+thought out, and administered by only too willing hands. That there was
+more than ordinary purpose in this blindfold journey he felt assured,
+and he racked his brains to discover the desperado's object. He even
+found time to speculate as to how it had fared with his men, only here
+he was even more at a loss than in the case of his own ultimate fate.</p>
+
+<p>In less than half an hour from the time of his capture the buckboard
+drew up beside some bush. Horrocks knew it was a bluff. He could hear
+the rustle of the leaves as they fluttered in the gentle night air. Then
+he was unceremoniously hustled to the ground, and, equally
+unceremoniously, urged forward until his feet trod upon the stubbly,
+breaking undergrowth. Next he was brought to a stand and swung round,
+face about, his bonds were removed, and four powerful hands gripped his
+arms. By these he was drawn backwards until he bumped against a
+tree-trunk. His hands were then again made fast, but this time his arms
+embraced the tree behind him. In this manner he was securely trussed.</p>
+
+<p>Now from behind&mdash;his captors were well behind him&mdash;a hand reached over,
+and, by a swift movement, removed the bandage from before his eyes.
+Then, before he had time to turn his head, he heard a scrambling through
+the bush, and, a moment later, the sound of the creaking buckboard
+rapidly receding. He was left alone; and, after one swift, comprehensive
+survey, to his surprise, he found himself facing the wire-spreading
+muskeg, at the very spot where he had given up further pursuit of the
+cattle whose &quot;spur&quot; he had traced down to the brink of the viscid mire.</p>
+
+<p>His astonishment rendered him oblivious to all else. He merely gazed out
+across that deceptive flat and wondered. Why&mdash;why had this thing been
+done, and what strange freak had induced the &quot;hustler&quot; to conceive such
+a form of imprisonment for his captive? Horrocks struggled with his
+confusion, but he failed to fathom the mystery, and never was a man's
+confusion worse confounded than was his.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he bethought him of his bonds, and he cautiously tried them.
+They were quite unyielding, and, at each turn of his arms, they caused
+him considerable pain. The Breeds had done their work well, and he
+realized that he must wait the raider's pleasure. He was certain of one
+thing, however, which brought him a slight amount of comfort. He had
+been brought here for a definite purpose. Moreover, he did not believe
+that he was to be left here alone for long. So, with resignation induced
+by necessity, he possessed himself of what patience he best could
+summon.</p>
+
+<p>How long that solitary vigil lasted Horrocks had no idea. Time, in that
+predicament, was to him of little account. He merely wondered and
+waited. He considered himself more than fortunate that his captors had
+seen fit to remove the bandage from his eyes. In spite of his painful
+captivity he felt less helpless from the fact that he could see what
+might be about him.</p>
+
+<p>From a general survey his attention soon became riveted upon the muskeg
+spread out before him, and, before long, his thoughts turned to the
+secret path which he knew, at some point near by, bridged the silent
+horror. All about him was lit by the starry splendor of the sky. The
+scent of the redolent grass of the great keg hung heavily upon the air
+and smelt sweet in his nostrils. He could see the ghostly outline of the
+distant peaks of the mountains, he could hear the haunting cries of
+nightfowl and coyote; but these things failed to interest him.
+Familiarity with the prairie made them, to him, commonplace. The
+path&mdash;the secret of the great keg. That was the absorbing thought which
+occupied his waiting moments. He felt that its discovery would more than
+compensate for any blunders he had made. He strained his keen eyes as he
+gazed at the tall waving grass of the mire, as though to tear from the
+bosom of the awful swamp the secret it so jealously guarded. He slowly
+surveyed its dark surface, almost inch by inch, in the hopes of
+discovering the smallest indication or difference which might lead to
+the desired end.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing in what he saw to guide him, nothing which offered the
+least suggestion of a path. In the darkness the tall waving grass took a
+nondescript hue which reached unbroken for miles around. Occasionally
+the greensward seemed to ripple in the breeze, like water swayed by a
+soft summer zephyr, but beyond this the outlook was uniform&mdash;darkly
+mysterious&mdash;inscrutable.</p>
+
+<p>His arms cramped under the pressure of the restraining bonds and he
+moved uneasily. Now and again the rustling of the leaves overhead caused
+him to listen keenly. Gradually his fancy became slightly distorted,
+and, as time passed, the sounds which had struck so familiarly upon his
+ears, and which had hitherto passed unheeded, began to get upon his
+nerves.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by he found himself listening eagerly for the monotonous
+repetition of the prairie scavenger's dismal howl, and as the cries
+recurred they seemed to grow in power and become more plaintively
+horrible. Now, too, the sighing of the breeze drew more keen attention
+from the imprisoned man, and fancy magnified it into the sound of many
+approaching feet. These matters were the effect of solitude. At such
+times nerves play curious pranks.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his position, in spite of his anxiety of mind, the
+police-officer began to grow drowsy. The long night's vigil was telling,
+and nature rebelled, as she always will rebel when sleep is refused and
+bodily rest is unobtainable. A man may pace his bedroom for hours with
+the unmitigated pain of toothache. Even while the pain is almost
+unendurable his eyes will close and he will continue his peregrinations
+with tottering gait, awake, but with most of his faculties drowsily
+faltering. Horrocks found his head drooping forward, and, even against
+his will, his eyes would close. Time and again he pulled himself
+together, only the next instant to catch himself dozing off again.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, however, he was electrified into life. He was awake now, and
+all drowsiness had vanished. A sound&mdash;distant, rumbling, but
+distinct&mdash;had fallen upon his, for the moment, dulled ears. For awhile
+it likened to the far-off growl of thunder, blending with a steady rush
+of wind. But it was not passing. The sound remained and grew steadily
+louder. A minute passed&mdash;then another and then another. Horrocks stared
+in the direction, listening with almost painful intensity. As the
+rumbling grew, and the sound became more distinct, a light of
+intelligence crept into the prisoner's face. He heard and recognized.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cattle!&quot; he muttered, and in that pronouncement was an inflection of
+joy. &quot;Cattle&mdash;and moving at a great pace.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He was alert now, as alert as he had ever been in his life. Was he at
+last going to discover the coveted secret? Cattle traveling fast at this
+time of night, and in the vicinity of the great keg. What could it mean?
+To his mind there could only be one construction which he could
+reasonably put upon the circumstance. The cattle were being &quot;hustled,&quot;
+and the hustler must be the half-breed Retief.</p>
+
+<p>Then, like a douche of cold water, followed the thought that he had been
+purposely made a prisoner at the edge of the muskeg. Surely he was not
+to be allowed to see the cattle pass over the mire and then be permitted
+to go free. Even Retief in his wildest moments of bravado could not
+meditate so reckless a proceeding. No, there was some subtle purpose
+underlying this new development&mdash;possibly the outcome was to be far more
+grim than he had supposed. He waited horrified, at his own thoughts, but
+fascinated in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>The sound grew rapidly and Horrocks's face remained turned in the
+direction from which it proceeded. He fancied, even in the uncertain
+light, that he could see the distant crowd of beasts silhouetted against
+the sky-line. His post of imprisonment was upon the outskirts of the
+bush, and he had a perfect and uninterrupted view of the prairie along
+the brink of the keg, both to the north and south.</p>
+
+<p>It was his fancy, however, which designed the silhouette, and he soon
+became aware that the herd was nearer than he had supposed. The noise
+had become a continuous roar as the driven beasts came on, and he saw
+them loom towards him a black patch on the dark background of the
+dimly-lit prairie. The bunch was large, but his straining eyes as yet
+could make no estimate of its numbers. He could see several herders, but
+these, too, were as yet beyond recognition.</p>
+
+<p>Yet another surprise was in store for the waiting man. So fixed had his
+attention been upon the on-coming cattle that he had not once removed
+his eyes from the direction of their approach. Now, however, a prolonged
+bellow to the right of him caused him to turn abruptly. To his utter
+astonishment he saw, not fifty yards from him, a solitary horseman
+leading a couple of steers by ropes affixed to their horns. He wondered
+how long this strange apparition had been there. The horse was calmly
+nibbling at the grass, and the man was quietly resting himself with
+elbows propped upon the horn of his saddle. He, too, appeared to be
+gazing in the direction of the on-coming cattle. Horrocks tried hard to
+distinguish the man's appearance, but the light was too uncertain to
+give him more than the vaguest idea of his personality.</p>
+
+<p>The horse seemed to be black or very dark brown. And the general outline
+of the rider was that of a short slight man, with rather long hair which
+flowed from beneath the brim of his Stetson hat. The most curious
+distinguishable feature was his slightness. The horse was big and the
+man, was so small that, as he sat astride of his charger, he looked to
+be little more than a boy of fifteen or sixteen.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks's survey was cut short, however, for now the herd of cattle was
+tearing down upon him at a desperate racing pace. He saw the solitary
+rider gather up his lines and move his horse further away from the edge
+of the muskeg. Then the herd of cattle came along. They raced past the
+bluff where the officer was stationed, accompanied by four swarthy
+drivers, one of which was mounted upon a great chestnut horse whose
+magnificent stride and proportions fixed the captive's attention. He had
+heard of &quot;Golden Eagle,&quot; and he had no doubt in his mind that this was
+he and the rider was the celebrated cattle-thief. The band and its
+drovers swept by, and Horrocks estimated that the cattle numbered many
+hundreds.</p>
+
+<p>After awhile he heard the sound of voices. Then the beasts were driven
+back again over their tracks, only at a more gentle pace. Several times
+the performance was gone through, and each time, as they passed him,
+Horrocks noticed that their pace was decreased, until by the sixth time
+they passed their gait had become a simple mouche, and they leisurely
+nipped up the grass as they went, with bovine unconcern. It was a
+masterly display of how cattle can be handled, and Horrocks forgot for a
+while his other troubles in his interest in the spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>After passing him for the sixth time the cattle came to a halt; and then
+the strangest part of this strange scene was enacted. The horseman with
+the led steers, whom, by this time, Horrocks had almost forgotten, came
+leisurely upon the field of action. No instructions were given. The
+whole thing was done in almost absolute silence. It seemed as if long
+practice had perfected the method of procedure.</p>
+
+<p>The horseman advanced to the brink of the muskeg, exactly opposite to
+the bluff where the captive was tied, and with him the two led steers.
+Horrocks held his breath&mdash;his excitement was intense. The swarthy
+drivers roused the tired cattle and headed them towards the captive
+steers. Horrocks saw the boyish rider urge his horse fearlessly on to
+the treacherous surface of the keg. The now docile and exhausted cattle
+followed leisurely. There was no undue bustle or haste. It was a
+veritable &quot;follow my leader.&quot; Where it was good enough for the captive
+leaders to go it was good enough for the weary beasts to follow, and so,
+as the boy rider moved forward, the great herd followed in twos and
+threes. The four drivers remained until the end, and then, as the last
+steer set foot on the dreadful mire, they too joined in the silent
+procession.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks exerted all his prairie instinct as he watched the course of
+that silent band. He was committing to memory, as far as he was capable,
+the direction of the path across the keg, for, when opportunity offered,
+he was determined to follow up his discovery and attempt the journey
+himself. He fancied in his own secret heart that Retief had at last
+overreached himself, and in thus giving away his secret he was paving
+the way to his own capture.</p>
+
+<p>It was not long before the cattle and their drivers passed out of sight,
+but Horrocks continued to watch, so that he should lose no chance detail
+of interest. At length, however, he found that his straining gaze was
+useless, and all further interest passed out of his lonely vigil.</p>
+
+<p>Now he busied himself with plans for his future movements, when he
+should once more be free. And in such thought the long night passed, and
+the time drew on towards dawn.</p>
+
+<p>The surprises of the night were not yet over, however, for just before
+the first streaks of daylight shot athwart the eastern sky he saw two
+horsemen returning across the muskeg. He quickly recognized them as
+being the raider himself and the boyish rider who had led the cattle
+across the mire. They came across at a good pace, and as they reached
+the bank the officer was disgusted to see the boy ride off in a
+direction away from the settlement, and the raider come straight towards
+the bluff. Horrocks was curious about the boy who seemed so conversant
+with the path across the mire, and was anxious to have obtained a
+clearer view of him.</p>
+
+<p>The raider drew his horse up within a few yards of the captive. Horrocks
+had a good view of the man's commanding, eagle face. In spite of himself
+he could not help but feel a strange admiration for this lawless Breed.</p>
+
+<p>There was something wonderfully fascinating and lofty in the hustler's
+direct, piercing gaze as, proudly disdainful, he looked down upon his
+discomfited prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed in no hurry to speak. A shadowy smile hovered about his face
+as he eyed the officer. Then he turned away and looked over to the
+eastern horizon. He turned back again and drawled out a greeting. It was
+not cordial but it was characteristic of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wal?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks made no reply. The Breed laughed mockingly, and leant forward
+upon the horn of his saddle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess you've satisfied your curiosity&mdash;some. Say, the boys didn't
+handle you too rough, I take it. I told 'em to go light.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks was constrained to retort.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so rough as you'll be handled when you get the law about you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now I call that unfriendly. Guess them's gopher's words. But say, pard,
+the law ain't got me yet. Wot d'ye think of the road across the keg?
+Mighty fine trail that.&quot; He laughed as though enjoying a good joke.</p>
+
+<p>Horrocks felt that he must terminate this interview. The Breed had a
+most provoking way with him. His self-satisfaction annoyed his hearer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How much longer do you intend to keep me here?&quot; Horrocks exclaimed
+bitterly. &quot;I suppose you mean murder; you'd better get on with it and
+stop gassing. Men of your kidney don't generally take so much time over
+that sort of business.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Retief seemed quite unruffled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Murder? Why, man, I didn't bring you here to murder you. Guess ef I'd a
+notion that way you'd 'a' been done neat long ago. No, I jest wanted to
+show you what you wanted to find out. Now I'm goin' to let you go, so
+you, an' that skunk Lablache'll be able to chin-wag over this night's
+doin's. That's wot I'm here fer right now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As he finished speaking the Breed circled Golden Eagle round behind the
+tree, and, bending low down from the saddle, he cut the rope which held
+the policeman's wrists. Horrocks, feeling himself freed, stepped quickly
+from the bush into the open, and faced about towards his liberator. As
+he did so he found himself looking up into the muzzle of Retief's
+revolver. He stood his ground unflinchingly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, see hyar, pard,&quot; said Retief, quietly, &quot;I've a mighty fine respect
+for you. You ain't the cuckoo that many o' yer mates is. You've got
+grit, anyway. But that ain't all you need. 'Savee's' a mighty fine
+thing&mdash;on occasions. Now you need 'Savee.' I'll jest give yer a piece of
+advice right hyar. You go straight off down to Lablache's ranch. You'll
+find him thar. An' pesky uncomfortable you'll find him. You ken set him
+free, also his ranch boys, an' when you've done that jest make tracks
+for Stormy Cloud an' don't draw rein till you git thar. Ef ever you see
+Retief on one trail, jest hit right off on to another. That's good sound
+sense right through fur you. Say, work on that, an' you ain't like to
+come to no harm. But I swear, right hyar, ef you an' me ever come to
+close quarters I'll perforate you&mdash;'less you git the drop on me. An' to
+do that'll keep you humpin'. So long, pard. It's jest gettin' daylight,
+ah' I don't calc'late to slouch around hyar when the sun's shinin'.
+Don't go fur to forget my advice. I don't charge nothin' fur it, but
+it's good, pard&mdash;real good, for all that. So long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He swung his horse round, and before Horrocks had time to collect
+himself, much less to speak, he was almost out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>Half dazed and still wondering at the strangeness of the desperate
+Breed's manner he mechanically began to walk slowly in the direction of
+the Foss River Settlement.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII" />CHAPTER XXII - THE DAY AFTER</h2>
+
+
+<p>Morning broke over a disturbed and restless community at Foss River. The
+chief residents who were not immediately concerned in the arrest of
+Retief&mdash;only deeply interested, and therefore skeptical&mdash;had gone to bed
+over-night eager for the morning light to bring them news. Their broken
+slumbers ceased as daylight broadened into sunrise, and, without waiting
+for their morning coffee, the majority set out to gather the earliest
+crumbs of news obtainable. There were others, of course, who were not in
+the know, or, at least, had only heard vague rumors. These were less
+interested, and therefore failed to rise so early.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst the earliest abroad was Doctor Abbot. Aunt Margaret's interest
+was not sufficient to drag her from her downy couch thus early, but,
+with truly womanly logic, she saw no reason why the doctor should not
+glean for her the information she required. Therefore the doctor rose
+and shivered under the lightness of his summer apparel in the brisk
+morning air.</p>
+
+<p>The market-place, upon which the doctor's house looked, was almost
+deserted when he passed out of his door. He glanced quickly around for
+some one whom he might recognize. He saw that the door of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's
+shack was open, but it was too far off for him to see whether that lazy
+individual was yet up. A neche was leisurely cleaning up round
+Lablache's store, whilst the local butcher was already busy swabbing out
+the little shed which did duty for his shop. As yet there was no other
+sign of life abroad, and Doctor Abbot prepared to walk across to the
+butcher for a gossip, and thus wait for some one else to come along.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped briskly from his house, for he was &quot;schrammed&quot; with cold in
+his white drill clothing. As he approached the energetic butcher, he saw
+a man entering the market-place from the southern extremity of the
+settlement. He paused to look closely at the new-comer. In a moment he
+recognized Thompson, one of the clerks from Lablache's store. He
+conjectured at once that this man might be able to supply him with the
+information he desired, and so changed his direction and went across to
+meet him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mornin', Thompson,&quot; he said, peering keenly into the pale, haggard face
+of the money-lender's employee. &quot;What's up with you? You look positively
+ill. Have you heard how the arrest went off last night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a blunt directness about the doctor which generally drove
+straight to the point. The clerk wearily passed his hand across his
+forehead. He seemed half asleep, and, as the doctor had asserted,
+thoroughly ill.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Arrest, doctor? Precious little arrest there's been. I've been out on
+the prairie all night. What, haven't you heard about the governor? Good
+lor'! I don't know what's going to happen to us all. Do you think we're
+safe here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Safe here? What do you mean, man?&quot; the doctor answered, noting the
+other's fearful glances round. &quot;Why, what ails you? What about
+Lablache?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Others had now appeared upon the market-place and Doctor Abbot saw
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill, dressed in a gray tweed suit, and looking as fresh as if he
+had just emerged from the proverbial bandbox, coming leisurely towards
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What about Lablache, eh?&quot; replied Thompson, echoing the doctor's
+question ruefully. &quot;A pretty nice thing Horrocks and his fellows have
+let themselves, and us, in for.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill had come up now and several others had joined the group. They stood
+by and listened while the clerk told his story. And what a story it was
+too. It was vividly sanguinary, and enough to strike terror into the
+hearts of his audience.</p>
+
+<p>He told with great gusto of how Lablache had been abducted. How the
+police horses and the money-lender's had been stolen from the stables at
+the store. He dwelt on the frightful horrors committed up at the Breed
+camp. How he had seen the police shot down before his very eyes, and he
+became expansive on the fact that, with his own hands, Retief had
+carried off Horrocks, and how he had heard the raider declare his
+intention of hanging him. It was a terrible tale of woe, and his
+audience was thrilled and horrified. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill alone appeared unmoved.
+A close observer even might have noticed the faintest suspicion of a
+smile at the corners of his mouth. The smile broadened as the sharp
+doctor launched a question at the narrator of terrible facts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How came you to see all this, and escape?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thompson was at no loss. He told how he had been sent up by &quot;Poker&quot; John
+to find Horrocks and tell him about Lablache. How he arrived in time to
+see the horrors perpetrated, and how he only managed to escape with his
+own life by flight, under cover of the darkness, and how, pursued by the
+bloodthirsty Breeds, he had managed to hide on the prairie, where he
+remained until daylight, and then by a circuitous route got back to the
+settlement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I tell you what it is, doctor,&quot; he finished up consequentially, &quot;the
+Breeds are in open rebellion, and, headed by that devil, Retief, intend
+to clear us whites out of the country. It's the starting of another Riel
+rebellion, and if we don't get help from the Government quickly, it's
+all up with us. That's my opinion,&quot; and he gazed patronizingly upon the
+crowd, which by this time had assembled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nonsense, man,&quot; said the doctor sharply. &quot;Your opinion's warped.
+Besides, you're in a blue funk. Come on over to 'old man' Smith's and
+have a 'freshener.' You want bucking-up. Coming, Bill?&quot; he went on,
+turning to Bunning-Ford. &quot;I want an 'eye-opener' myself. What say to a
+'Collins'?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The three moved away from the crowd, which they left horrified at what
+it had heard, and eagerly discussing and enlarging upon the sanguinary
+stories of Thompson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was already at the saloon when the three reached the door
+of &quot;old man&quot; Smith's reeking den. The proprietor was sweeping the bar,
+in a vain effort to clear the atmosphere of the nauseating stench of
+stale tobacco and drink. John was propped against the bar mopping up his
+fourth &quot;Collins.&quot; He usually had a thirst that took considerable
+quenching in the mornings now. His over-night potations were deep and
+strong. Morning &quot;nibbling&quot; had consequently become a disease with him.
+&quot;Old man&quot; Smith, with a keen eye to business, systematically mixed the
+rancher's morning drinks good and strong.</p>
+
+<p>Bill and the doctor were not slow to detect the condition of their old
+friend, and each felt deeply on the subject. Their cheery greetings,
+however, were none the less hearty. Smith desisted in his dusty
+occupation and proceeded to serve his customers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We're having lively times, John,&quot; said the doctor, after emptying his
+&quot;long sleever.&quot; &quot;Guess Retief's making things 'hum' in Foss River.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hum? Shout is more like it,&quot; drawled Bill. &quot;You've heard all the news,
+John?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've enough news of my own,&quot; growled the rancher.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Been up all night. I see you've got Thompson with you. What did
+Horrocks do after you told him about Lablache?&quot; he went on, turning to
+the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>Bill and the doctor exchanged meaning glances. The clerk having found a
+fresh audience again repeated his story. &quot;Poker&quot; John listened
+carefully. At the close of the narrative he snorted disdainfully and
+looked from the clerk to his two friends. Then he laughed loudly. The
+clerk became angry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Excuse me, Mr. Allandale, but if you doubt my word&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Doubt your word, boy?&quot; he said, when his mirth had subsided. &quot;I don't
+doubt your word. Only I've spent most of the night up at the Breed camp
+myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And were you there, sir, when Horrocks was captured?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I was not. After you came to my place and went on to the camp, I
+was very uneasy. So, after a bit, I got my 'hands' together and prepared
+to follow you up there. Just as I was about to set out,&quot; he went on,
+turning to the doctor and Bill, &quot;I met Jacky coming in. Bless you if she
+hadn't been to see the pusky herself. You know,&quot; with a slight frown,
+&quot;that child is much too fond of those skulking Breeds. Well, anyway, she
+said everything was quiet enough while she was there and,&quot; turning again
+to Thompson, &quot;she had seen nothing of Retief or Horrocks or any of the
+latter's men. We just put our heads together, and she convinced me that
+I was right, after what had occurred at the store, and had better go up.
+So up I went. We searched the whole camp. I guess we were there for nigh
+on three hours. The place was quiet enough. They were still dancing and
+drinking, but not a blessed sign of Horrocks could we find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I expect he'd gone before you got there, sir,&quot; put in Thompson.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you find the bodies of the murdered police?&quot; asked the doctor
+innocently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not a sign of 'em,&quot; laughed John. &quot;There were no dead policemen, and,
+what's more, there was no trace of any shooting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The three men turned on the clerk, who felt that he must justify
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There was shooting enough, sir; you mark my words. You'll hear of it
+to-day, sure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill walked away towards the window in disgust. The clerk annoyed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, boy, no. I'm thinking you are mistaken. I should have discovered
+some trace had there been any shooting. I don't deny that your story's
+true, but in the excitement of the moment I guess you got rattled&mdash;and
+saw things.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Old John laughed and turned away. At that instant Bill called them all
+over to the window. The bar window overlooked the market-place, and the
+front of Lablache's store was almost opposite to it.</p>
+
+<p>Bill pointed towards the store as the three men gathered round. &quot;Old
+man&quot; Smith also ranged himself with the others.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look!&quot; Bill smiled grimly.</p>
+
+<p>A buckboard had just drawn up outside Lablache's emporium and two people
+were alighting. A crowd had gathered round the arrivals. There was no
+mistaking one of the figures. The doctor was the first to give
+expression to the thought that was in the mind of each of the interested
+spectators.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache!&quot; he exclaimed in astonishment</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Horrocks,&quot; added &quot;Lord&quot; Bill quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess he wasn't hung then after all,&quot; said &quot;Poker&quot; John, turning as he
+spoke. But Thompson had taken his departure. This last blow was too
+much. And he felt that it was an advantageous moment in which to retire
+to his employer's store, and hide his diminished head amongst the bales
+of dry goods and the monumental ledgers to be found there.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That youth has a considerable imagination.&quot; The Hon. Bunning-Ford
+turned from the window and strolled leisurely towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where are you going?&quot; exclaimed &quot;Poker&quot; John.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To cook some breakfast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, no, you must come up to the ranch with me. Let's go right over to
+the store first, and hear what Lablache has to say. Then we'll go and
+feed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged. Then,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache and I are not on the best of terms,&quot; he said doubtfully. He
+wished to go notwithstanding his demur. Besides he was anxious to go on
+to the ranch to see Jacky. The doubt in his tone gave John his cue, and
+the old man refused to be denied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come along,&quot; he said, and linking his arm within the other's, he led
+the way over to the store; the doctor, equally eager, bringing up the
+rear.</p>
+
+<p>Bill suffered himself to be thus led. He knew that in such company
+Lablache could not very well refuse him admission to his office. He had
+a decided wish to be present when the money-lender told his tale.
+However, in this he was doomed to disappointment. Lablache had already
+decided upon a plan of action.</p>
+
+<p>At the store the three friends made their way through the crowd of
+curious people who had gathered on the unexpected return of the chief
+actors in last night's drama; they made their way quickly round to the
+back where the private door was.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was within, and with him Horrocks. The heavy voice of the
+money-lender answered &quot;Poker&quot; John's summons.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He was surprised when the door opened, and he saw who his visitors were.
+John and the doctor he was prepared for, but &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's coming was a
+different matter. For an instant he seriously meditated an angry
+objection. Then he altered his mind, a thing which was rare with him.
+After all the man's presence could do no harm, and he felt that to
+object to him, would be to quarrel with the rancher. On second thoughts
+he would tolerate what he considered the intrusion.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was ensconced in his basket chair, and Horrocks was at the
+great man's desk. Neither moved as their visitors entered. The troubles
+of the previous night were plainly written on both men's faces. There
+was a haggard look in their eyes, and a generally dishevelled appearance
+about their dress. Lablache in particular looked unwashed and untidy.
+Horrocks looked less troubled, and there was a strong air of
+determination about his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John showed no niceness in broaching the subject of his visit.
+His libations had roused him to the proper pitch for plain speaking.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, what happened to you last night, Lablache? I guess you're looking
+about as blue as they make 'em. Say, I thought sure Retief was going to
+do for you when I heard about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah. Who told you about&mdash;about me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your clerk.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rodgers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, Thompson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! Have you seen Rodgers at all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No.&quot; John turned to the other two. &quot;Have you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Neither of the men had seen the clerk, and old John turned again to
+Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, what's happened to Rodgers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, nothing. I haven't seen him since I have been back&mdash;that's all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, now tell us all about last night,&quot; went on the rancher. &quot;This
+matter is going to be cleared up. I have been thinking of a vigilance
+committee. We can't do better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shook his great head. To the doctor and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill there
+seemed to be an utter hopelessness conveyed in the motion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have nothing to tell. Neither has Horrocks. What happened last night
+concerns ourselves alone. You may possibly hear more later on, but the
+telling by us now will do no good, and probably a lot of harm. As for
+your vigilance committee, form it if you like, but I doubt that you will
+do any good with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This refusal riled the old rancher. He was just in that condition when
+it would take little to make him quarrel. He was about to rap out an
+angry retort when a knock came at the partition door. It was Thompson.
+He had come to say that the troopers had returned, and wanted to see the
+sergeant. Also to say that Rodgers was with them. Horrocks immediately
+went out to see them, and, before John could say a word, Lablache turned
+on him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look here, John, for the present my lips are sealed. It is Horrocks's
+wish. He has a plan which he wishes to carry out quietly. The result of
+his plan largely depends upon silence. Retief seems to have sources of
+information everywhere. Walls have ears, man. Now, I shall be glad if
+you will leave me. I&mdash;I must get cleaned up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John's anger died within him. He saw that Lablache was upset. He looked
+absolutely ill. The old man's good nature would not allow him to press
+this companion of his ranching life further. There was nothing left for
+him to do but leave.</p>
+
+<p>As he rose to go, the money-lender unbent still further.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll see you later, John, I may then be able to tell you more. Perhaps
+it may interest you to know that Horrocks has discovered the path across
+the keg, and&mdash;he's going to cross it. Good-by. So long, Doc.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well, I shall be up at the ranch. Come along, Bill. Jacky, I
+expect, is waiting breakfast for us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache heard the old man's remark as the latter passed out, and a
+bitter feeling of resentment rose within him. He felt that everything
+was against him. His evil nature, however, would not let him remain long
+desponding. He ground his teeth and cursed bitterly. It had only wanted
+a fillip such as this to rouse him from the curious lethargic
+hopelessness into which the terrible night's doings had cast him.</p>
+
+<p>The moment the three men got away from the store, Doctor Abbot drew
+attention to the money-lender's words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Going to cross the keg, eh? Well, if he's really discovered the path
+it's certainly the best thing to do. He's a sharp man is Horrocks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's a fool!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill's words were so emphatic that both men stared at him. If they were
+startled at his words, they were still more startled at the set
+expression of his face. Doctor Abbot thought he had never seen the
+<i>insouciant</i> Bill so roused out of himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why&mdash;how?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How? I tell you, man, that no one knows that path
+except&mdash;except&mdash;Retief, and, supposing Horrocks has discovered it, if he
+attempts to cross, there can only be one result to his mad folly. I tell
+you what it is, the man should be stopped. It's absolute
+suicide&mdash;nothing more nor less.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something in the emphasis of &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's words kept the others silent
+until the doctor left them at his home. Then as the two men hurried out
+across the prairie towards the ranch, the conversation turned back to
+the events of the previous evening.</p>
+
+<p>At the ranch they found Jacky awaiting the old man's return, on the
+veranda. She was surprised when she saw who was with him. Her surprise
+was a pleasant one, however, and she extended her hand in cordial
+welcome.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come right in, Bill. Gee, but you look fit&mdash;and slick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two young people smiled into each other's faces, and no onlooker,
+not even the observant Aunt Margaret, could have detected the
+understanding which passed in that look. Jacky was radiant. Her sweet,
+dark face was slightly flushed. There were no tell-tale rings about her
+dark eyes. For all sign she gave to the contrary she might have enjoyed
+the full measure of a night's rest. Her visit to the Breed camp, or, for
+that matter, any other adventures which had befallen her during the
+night, had left no trace on her beautiful face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I've brought the boy up to feed,&quot; said old John. &quot;I guess we'll get
+right to it. I've got a 'twist' on me that'll take considerable to
+satisfy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The meal passed pleasantly enough. The conversation naturally was
+chiefly confined to the events of the night. But somehow the others did
+not respond very eagerly to the old rancher's evident interest and
+concern. Most of the talking&mdash;most of the theorizing&mdash;most of the
+suggestions for the stamping out of the scourge, Retief, came from him,
+the others merely contenting themselves with agreeing to his suggestions
+with a lack of interest which, had the old man been perfectly sober, he
+could not have failed to observe. However, he was especially obtuse this
+morning, and was too absorbed in his own impracticable theories and
+suggestions to notice the others' lack of interest.</p>
+
+<p>At the conclusion of the meal the rancher took himself off down to the
+settlement again. He must endeavor to draw Lablache, he said. He would
+not wait for him to come to the ranch.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky and Bill went out on to the veranda, and watched the old man as he
+set out with unsteady gait for the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill,&quot; said the girl, as soon as her uncle was out of earshot, &quot;what
+news?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two items of interest One, the very best, and the other&mdash;the very
+worst.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which means?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No one has the least suspicion of us; and Horrocks, the madman, intends
+to attempt the passage of the keg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill jaws shut with a snap as he ceased speaking. The look which
+accompanied his last announcement was one of utter dejection. Jacky did
+not reply for an instant, her great eyes had taken on a look of deep
+anxiety as she gazed towards the muskeg.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, can nothing be done to stop him?&quot; She gazed appealingly up into
+the face of the tall figure beside her. &quot;He is a brave man, if foolish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's just it, dear. He's headstrong and means to see this thing
+through. Had I thought that he would ever dream of contemplating such a
+suicidal feat as attempting that path, I'd never have let him see the
+cattle cross last night. My God! it turns me sick to think of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hush, Bill, don't talk so loud. Do you think any one could dissuade
+him? Lablache, or&mdash;or uncle, for instance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bunning-Ford shook his head. His look was troubled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Horrocks is not the man to be turned from his purpose,&quot; he replied.
+&quot;And besides, Lablache would not attempt such a thing. He is too keen to
+capture&mdash;Relief,&quot; with a bitter laugh. &quot;A life more or less would not
+upset that scoundrel's resolve. As for your uncle,&quot; with a shrug, &quot;I
+don't think he's the man for the task. No, Jacky,&quot; he went on, with a
+sigh, &quot;we must let things take their course now. We have embarked on
+this business. We mustn't weaken. His blood be upon his own head.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They relapsed into silence for some moments. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill lit a
+cigarette, and leant himself against one of the veranda posts. He was
+worried at the turn events had taken. He had no grudge against Horrocks;
+the man was but doing his duty. But his meditated attempt he considered
+to be an exaggerated sense of that duty. Presently he spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jacky&mdash;do you know, I feel that somehow the end of this business is
+approaching. What the end is to be I cannot foretell. One thing,
+however, is clear. Sooner or later we must run foul of people, and when
+that occurs&mdash;well,&quot; throwing his cigarette from him viciously, &quot;it
+simply means shooting. And&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Bill, I know what you would say. Shooting means killing, killing
+means murder, and murder means swinging. You're right, but,&quot; and the
+girl's eyes began to blaze, &quot;before that, Lablache must go under.
+Whatever happens, Bill, before we decorate any tree with our bodies, if
+our object is not already obtained, I'll shoot him with my own pistol. I
+guess we're embarked on a game that we're going to see through.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so. We'll see it through. Do you know what stock we've taken,
+all told? Close on twenty thousand head, and&mdash;all Lablache's. They're
+snug over at 'Bad Man's' Hollow, and a tidy fine bunch they are. The
+division with the boys is a twentieth each, and the balance is ours. Our
+share is ten thousand.&quot; He ceased speaking. Then presently he went on,
+harking back to the subject of Horrocks. &quot;I wish that man could be
+stayed. His failure must precipitate matters. Should he drown, as he
+surely will, the whole countryside will join in the hue and cry. It is
+only his presence here that keeps the settlers in check. Well, so be it.
+It's a pity. But I'm not going to swing. They'll never take me alive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it comes to that, Bill, you'll not be alone, I guess. You can gamble
+your soul, when it comes to open warfare I'm with you, an' I guess I can
+shoot straight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked at the girl in astonishment. He noted the keen deep eyes,
+the set little mouth. The fearless expression on her beautiful face. Her
+words had fairly taken his breath away, but he saw that she had meant
+what she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, no, girlie. No one will suspect you. Besides, this is my affair.
+You have your uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Say, boy, I love my uncle&mdash;I love him real well. I'm working for him,
+we both are&mdash;and we'll work for him to the last. But our work together
+has taught me something, Bill, and when I cotton to teaching there's
+nothing that can knock what I learn out of my head. I've just learned to
+love you, Bill. And, as the Bible says, old Uncle John's got to take
+second place. That's all. If you go under&mdash;well, I guess I'll go under
+too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky gave her lover no chance to reply. As he opened his lips to
+expostulate and took a step towards her she darted away, and disappeared
+into the sitting-room. He followed her in, but the room was empty.</p>
+
+<p>He paused. Then a smile spread over his face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't fancy we shall go under, little woman,&quot; he muttered, &quot;at least,
+not if I can help it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to the veranda and strolled away towards the settlement.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII" />CHAPTER XXIII - THE PAW OF THE CAT</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lablache was alone. Horrocks had left him to set out on his final effort
+to discover Retief's hiding-place. The great man was eagerly waiting for
+his return. Evening was drawing on and the officer had not yet put in an
+appearance, neither had the money-lender received any word from him. In
+consequence he was beginning to hope that Horrocks had succeeded.</p>
+
+<p>All day the wretched man had been tortured by horrid fears. And, as time
+passed and evening drew on, his mood became almost a panic. The
+money-lender was in a deplorable state of mind; his nerves were shaken,
+and he was racked by a dread of he scarce knew what. What he had gone
+through the night before had driven him to the verge of mental collapse.
+No bodily injury could have thus reduced him; for, whatever might have
+been his failings, physical cowardice was not amongst the number. Any
+moral weakness which might have been his had been so obscured by long
+years of success and prosperity, that no one knowing him would have
+believed him to be so afflicted. No, in spite of his present condition
+Lablache was a strong man.</p>
+
+<p>But the frightful mental torture he had endured at Retief's hands had
+told its tale. The attack of the last twenty-four hours had been made
+against him alone; at least, so Lablache understood it. Retief's efforts
+were only in his direction; the raider had robbed him of twenty thousand
+head of cattle; he had burnt his beautiful ranch out, in sheer
+wantonness it seemed to the despairing man; what then would be his next
+move if he were not stopped? What else was there of
+his&mdash;Lablache's&mdash;that the Breed could attack? His store&mdash;yes&mdash;yes; his
+store! That was all that was left of his property in Foss River. And
+then&mdash;what then? There was nothing after that, except, perhaps&mdash;except
+his life.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache stirred in his seat and wheezed heavily as he arrived at this
+conclusion. His horrified thoughts were expressed in the look of fear
+that was in his lashless eyes.</p>
+
+<p>His life&mdash;yes! That must be the raider's culminating object. Or would he
+leave him that, so that he might further torture him by burning him out
+of Calford. He pondered fearfully, and hard, practical as was his
+nature, the money-lender allowed his imagination to run riot over
+possibilities which surely his cooler judgment would have scoffed at.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache rose hurriedly from his chair. It only wanted a quarter to
+five. Putting his head through the partition doorway he ordered his
+astonished clerks to close up. He felt that he could not&mdash;dare not keep
+the store open longer. Then he inspected the private door of his office.
+The spring catch was fast. He locked his safe. All the time he moved
+about fearfully&mdash;like some hunted criminal. At last he returned to his
+seat. His bilious eyes roved over the various objects in the room. A
+hunted look was in them. His mind seemed fixed on one thought alone&mdash;the
+coming of Retief.</p>
+
+<p>After this he grew more calm. Perhaps the knowledge that the store was
+secure now against any intruder helped to steady his nerves. Then he
+started&mdash;was the store secure? He rose again and went to the window to
+put up the shutter. He gazed out towards the Foss River Ranch, and, as
+he gazed, he saw some one riding fast towards the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>The horseman came nearer; the sight fascinated the great man. Now the
+traveler had reached the market place, and was coming on towards the
+store. Suddenly the money-lender recognized in the horseman one of
+Horrocks's troopers, mounted on a horse from John Allandale's stable. A
+wild hope leapt up in his heart. Then, as the man drew nearer and
+Lablache saw the horrified expression of his face, hope went from him,
+and he feared the worst.</p>
+
+<p>The clatter of hoofs ceased outside the office door. Lablache stepped
+heavily forward and threw it open. He stood framed in the doorway as the
+man gasped out his terrible news.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's drowned, sir, drowned before our eyes. We tried, but couldn't save
+him. He would go, sir; we tried to persuade him, but he would go. No
+more than fifty yards from the bank, and then down he went. He was out
+of sight in two minutes. It was horrible, sir, and him never uttered a
+sound. I'm going in to Stormy Cloud to report an' get instructions.
+Anything I can do, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So the worst was realized. For the moment the money-lender could find no
+words. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. His last hope&mdash;the
+last barrier between him and the man whom he considered his arch enemy,
+Retief, seemed to have been shattered. He thought not of the horror of
+the policeman's drowning; he felt no sorrow at the reckless man's
+ghastly end. He merely thought of himself. He saw only how the man's
+death affected his personal interests. At last he gurgled out some
+words. He scarce knew what he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's nothing to be done. Yes&mdash;no&mdash;yes, you'd better go up to the
+Allandales,&quot; he went on uncertainly. &quot;They'll send a rescue party.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The trooper dashed off and Lablache securely fastened the door. Then he
+put the shutter over the window, and, notwithstanding that it was broad
+daylight still, he lit the lamp.</p>
+
+<p>Once more he returned to his protesting chair, into which he almost
+fell. To him this last catastrophe was as the last straw. What was now
+to become of the settlement; what was to become of him? Horrocks gone;
+the troopers withdrawn, or, at least, without a guiding hand, what
+might Retief not be free to do while the settlement awaited the coming
+of a fresh detachment of police. He impotently cursed the raider. The
+craven weakness, induced by his condition of nervous prostration, was
+almost pitiable. All the selfishness which practically monopolized his
+entire nature displayed itself in his terror. He cared nothing for
+others. He believed that Retief was at war with him alone. He believed
+that the raider sought only his wealth&mdash;his wealth which his years of
+hard work and unscrupulous methods had laboriously piled up&mdash;the wealth
+he loved and lived for&mdash;the wealth which was to him as a god. He thought
+of all he had already lost. He counted it up in thousands, and his eyes
+grew wide with horror and despair as the figures mounted up, up, until
+they represented a great fortune.</p>
+
+<p>The long-suffering chair creaked under him as he flung himself back in
+it, his pasty, heavy-jowled face was ghastly under the lash of
+despairing thought. Only a miser, one of those wretched creatures who
+live only for the contemplation of their hoarded wealth, could
+understand the feelings of the miserable man as he lay back in his
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>The man who had thus reduced the money-lender must have understood his
+nature as did the inquisitors of old understand the weaknesses of their
+victims. For surely he could have found no other vulnerable spot in the
+great man's composition.</p>
+
+<p>The first shock of the trooper's news began to pass. Lablache's mind
+began to balance itself again. Such a state of nerves as was his could
+not last and the man remain sane. Possibly the thought that he was still
+a rich man came to his aid. Possibly the thought of hundreds of
+thousands of dollars sunk in perfect securities, in various European
+centers, toned down the grievousness of his losses. Whatever it was he
+grew calmer, and with calmness his scheming nature reasserted itself.</p>
+
+<p>He moved from his seat and helped himself liberally to the whisky which
+was in his cabinet. He needed the generous spirit, and drank it off at
+a gulp. His chair behind him creaked. He started. His ashen face became
+more ghastly in its hue. He looked round fearfully. Then he understood,
+and he wheezed heavily. Once more he sat himself down, and the warming
+spirit steadily did its work.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly his mind leapt forward, as it were, from its stagnatory
+condition of abject fear. It traveled swiftly, urged by a pursuing dread
+over plans for the future. The guiding star of his thought was safety.
+At all costs he must find safety for his property and himself. So long
+as Retief was at large there could be no safety for him in Foss River.
+He must get away. He must get away, bearing with him the fruits which
+yet remained to him of his life's toil. He had contemplated retiring
+before. His retirement from business would mean ruin to many of those
+who had borrowed from him he knew, and to those on whose property he
+held mortgages as security. But that could not be helped. He was not
+going to allow himself to suffer through what he considered any
+humanitarian weakness. Yes, he would retire&mdash;get away from the reach of
+Retief and his companions, and&mdash;ah!</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts merged into another channel&mdash;a channel which, under the
+stress of his terrors, had for the moment been obscured. He suddenly
+thought of the Allandales. Here for the instant was a stumbling block.
+Or should he renounce his passion for Jacky? He drummed thoughtfully
+with his finger-tips upon the arms of his chair.</p>
+
+<p>No, why should he give her up? Something of his old nerve was returning.
+He held all the cards. He knew he could, by foreclosing, ruin &quot;Poker&quot;
+John. Why should he give the girl up, and see her calmly secured by that
+cursed Bunning-Ford? His bilious eyes half closed and his sparse
+eyebrows drew together in a deep concentration of thought. Then
+presently his forehead smoothed, and his lashless eyes gleamed wickedly.
+He rose heavily to his feet and labored to and fro across the floor,
+with his beefy hands clasped behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Excellent&mdash;excellent,&quot; he muttered. &quot;The devil could not have designed
+it better.&quot; There was a grim, evil smile about his mouth. &quot;Yes, a
+game&mdash;a game. It will tickle old John, and will carry out my purpose.
+The mortgages which I hold on his property are nothing to me. Most are
+gambling debts. For the rest the interest has covered the principal. I
+have seen to that. But he is in arrears now. Good&mdash;good. Their
+abandonment represents no loss to me&mdash;ha, ha.&quot; He chuckled mirthlessly.
+&quot;A little game&mdash;a gentle flutter, friend John, and the stakes all in my
+favor. But I do not intend to lose. Oh, no. The girl might outwit me if
+I lost. I shall win, and on my wedding day I shall be
+magnanimous&mdash;good.&quot; He unclasped his hands and rubbed them together
+gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The uncle's consent&mdash;his persuasion. She will do as he wishes or&mdash;ruin.
+It is capital&mdash;a flawless scheme. And then to leave Foss River forever.
+God, but I shall be glad,&quot; with a return to his nervous dread. He looked
+about him; eagerly, his great paunchy figure pictured grotesquely
+beneath the pasty, fearful face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now to see John,&quot; he went on, after a moment's pause. &quot;How&mdash;how? I wish
+I could get him here. It would be better here. There would be no chance
+of listening ears. Besides, there is the whisky.&quot; He paused again
+thinking. &quot;Yes,&quot; he muttered presently. &quot;Delay would be bad. I must not
+give my enemy time. At once&mdash;at once. Nothing like doing things at once.
+I must go to John. But&mdash;&quot; and he looked dubiously at the darkened
+window&mdash;&quot;when I return it will be dark.&quot; He picked up his other revolver
+and slipped it into his breast pocket. &quot;Yes, yes, I am getting
+foolish&mdash;old. Come along, my friend, we will go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He seized his hat and went to the office door. He paused with his hand
+upon the lock, and gave one final look round, then he turned the spring
+with a great show of determination and passed out.</p>
+
+<p>It was a different man who left the little office on that evening to
+the man who had for so many years governed the destinies of the smaller
+ranching world of the Foss River district. He had truly said that he was
+getting old&mdash;but he did not quite realize how old. His enemies had done
+their work only too well. The terrible consequences of the night of
+terror were to have far-reaching results.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender set out for the ranch bristling with eagerness to put
+into execution his hastily conceived plan.</p>
+
+<p>He found the old rancher in his sanctum. He was alone brooding over the
+calamity which had befallen the police-officer, and stimulating his
+thought with silent &quot;nippings&quot; at the whisky bottle. He was in a
+semi-maudlin condition when the money-lender entered, and greeted his
+visitor with almost childish effusion.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache saw and understood, and a sense of satisfaction came to him. He
+hoped his task would be easier than he had anticipated. His evil nature
+rose to the occasion, and, for the moment, his own troubles and fears
+were forgotten. There was a cat-like licking of the lips as he
+contemplated the pitiful picture before him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; said old John, looking into the other's face with a pair of
+bloodshot eyes, as he re-seated himself after rising to greet his
+visitor. &quot;Well, poor Horrocks has gone&mdash;gone, a victim to his sense of
+duty. I guess, Lablache, there are few men would have shown his grit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grit! Yes, that's so.&quot; The money-lender had been about to say &quot;folly,&quot;
+but he checked himself. He did not want to offend &quot;Poker&quot; John&mdash;now.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. The poor fellow was too good for his work,&quot; he went on, in tones
+of commiseration. &quot;'Tis indeed a catastrophe, John. And we are the
+losers by it. I regret now that I did not altogether agree with him when
+he first came amongst us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John wagged his head. He looked to be near weeping. His companion's
+sympathetic tone was almost too much for his whisky-laden heart. But
+Lablache had not come here to discuss Horrocks, or, for that matter, to
+sympathize with the gray-headed wreck of manhood before him. He wished
+to find out first of all if anybody was about whom his plans concerned,
+and then to force his proposition upon his old companion. He carefully
+led the rancher to talk of other things.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The man has gone into Stormy Cloud to report?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And who are they likely to send down in place&mdash;ah&mdash;of the unfortunate
+Horrocks, think you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't say. I guess they'll send a good man. I've asked for more men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man roused somewhat from his maudlin state.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah, that's a good move, John,&quot; said the money-lender. &quot;What does Jacky
+think about&mdash;these things?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The question was put carelessly. John yawned, and poured out a &quot;tot&quot; of
+whisky for his friend.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess I haven't seen the child since breakfast. She seemed to take it
+badly enough then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thanks. Aren't you going to have one?&quot; as John pushed the glass over to
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, yes, man. Never shirk my liquor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He dashed a quantity of raw spirit into his glass and drank it off.
+Lablache looked on with intense satisfaction. John rose unsteadily, and,
+supporting himself against the furniture as he went, moved over to the
+French window and closed it. Then he lurched heavily back into his chair
+again. His eyes half closed. But he roused at the sound of Lablache's
+guttural tones.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;John, old friend.&quot; Muddled as he was the rancher started at the term.
+&quot;I've come to have a long chat with you. This morning I could not talk.
+I was too broken up&mdash;too, too ill. Now listen and you shall hear of all
+that happened last night, and then you will the better be able to judge
+of the wisdom of my decision.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John listened while Lablache told his tale. The money-lender embellished
+the facts slightly so as the further to emphasize them. Then, at the
+conclusion of the story of his night's doings, he went on to matters
+which concerned his future.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, John, there is nothing left for me but to get out of the country.
+Mind this is no sudden determination, but a conclusion I have long
+arrived at. These disastrous occurrences have merely hastened my plans.
+I am not so young as I was, you know,&quot; with an attempt at lightness, &quot;I
+simply dare not stay. I fear that Retief will soon attempt my life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He sighed and looked for sympathy. Old John seemed too amazed to
+respond. He had never realized that the raider's efforts were solely
+directed against Lablache. The money-lender went on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And that is why I have come to you, my oldest friend. I feel you should
+be the first to know, for with no one else in Foss River have I lived in
+such perfect harmony. And, besides, you are the most interested.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The latter was in the tone of an afterthought. Strangely enough the
+careless way in which it was spoken carried the words well home to the
+rancher's muddled brain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Interested?&quot; he echoed blankly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, yes. Certainly, you are the most interested. I mean from a
+monetary point of view. You see, the winding up of my business will
+entail the settling up of&mdash;er&mdash;my books.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said the rancher, with doubtful understanding.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then&mdash;er&mdash;you take my meaning as to how&mdash;er&mdash;how you are interested.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You mean my arrears of interest,&quot; said the gray headed old man dazedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just so. You will have to meet your liabilities to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But&mdash;but&mdash;man.&quot; The rancher spluttered for words to express himself.
+This was the money-lender's opportunity, and he seized it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, John, in retiring from business I am not altogether a free
+agent. My affairs are so mixed up with the affairs of the Calford Trust
+and Loan Co. The period of one of your mortgages, for instance&mdash;the
+heaviest by the way&mdash;has long expired. It has not been renewed. The
+interest is in arrears. This mortgage was arranged by me jointly with
+the Calford Trust and Loan Co. When I retire it will have to be settled
+up. Being my friend I have not troubled you, but doubtless the company
+will have no sentiment about it. As to the others&mdash;they are debts of
+honor. I am afraid these things will have to be settled, John. You will
+of course be able to meet them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God, man, but I can't,&quot; old John exclaimed. &quot;I tell you I can't,&quot; he
+reiterated in a despairing voice.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged his obese shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is unfortunate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, Lablache,&quot; said the rancher, gazing with drunken earnestness into
+the other's face, &quot;you will not press me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why no, John, of course not&mdash;as far as I am personally concerned. I
+have known you too long and have too much regard for you and&mdash;yours. No,
+no, John; of course I am a business man, but I am still your friend.
+Friend&mdash;eh, John&mdash;your friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher looked relieved, and helped himself to more whisky. Lablache
+joined him and they silently drank. &quot;Poker&quot; John set his empty glass
+down first.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now Lablache, about these lia-liabilities,&quot; he said with a hiccup.
+&quot;What is to be done?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, John, we are friends of such old standing that I don't like to
+retire from business and leave you inconvenienced by the process.
+Perhaps there is a way by which I can help you. I am very wealthy&mdash;and
+wealth is a great power&mdash;a very great power even in this wild region.
+Now, suppose I make a proposition to you.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV" />CHAPTER XXIV - &quot;POKER&quot; JOHN ACCEPTS</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a tone of drunken suspicion about the exclamation which was
+not lost on Lablache.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you were suddenly called upon to meet your liabilities to me, John,&quot;
+said the money-lender, smiling, &quot;how would it fix you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would mean ruin,&quot; replied John, hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache cleared his throat and snorted. Then he smiled benignly upon
+his old companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's just what I thought. Well, you're not going to be ruined&mdash;by me.
+I'm going to burn the mortgages and settle with the Calford Trust and
+Loan Co. myself&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher feared to trust his ears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is if you are willing to do something for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In his eager hope John Allandale had leant forward so as not to miss a
+word the other said. Now, however, he threw himself back in his chair.
+Some suspicion was in his mind. It might have been intuition. He knew
+Lablache well. He laughed cynically.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's more like you,&quot; he said roughly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One moment,&quot; said the money-lender; the smile vanished from his lips.
+&quot;Fair play's good medicine. We'll wipe out your debts if you'll tell
+your niece that you want her to marry me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll&mdash;I'll&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold on, John,&quot; with upraised hand, as the old man purpled with rage
+and started to shout.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll see you damned first!&quot; The rancher had lurched on to his feet and
+his fist came down with a crash upon the corner of the table. Lablache
+remained unmoved.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tut tut, man; now listen to me.&quot; The old man towered unsteadily over
+him. &quot;I can't understand your antipathy to me as a husband for your
+niece. Give your consent&mdash;she'll do it for you&mdash;and, on my wedding day,
+I burn those mortgages and I'll settle 100,000 dollars upon Jacky.
+Besides this I'll put 200,000 dollars into your ranch to develop it, and
+only ask ten per cent, of the profits. Can I speak fairer? That girl of
+yours is a good girl, John; too good to kick about the prairie. I'll
+make her a good husband. She shall do as she pleases, live where she
+likes. You can always be with us if you choose. It's no use being riled,
+John, I'm making an honest proposition.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rancher calmed. In the face of such a generous proposal he could not
+insult Lablache. He was determined, however. It was strange, perhaps,
+that any suggestion for his influence to be used in his niece's choice
+of a husband should have such a violent effect upon him. But &quot;Poker&quot;
+John was a curious mixture of weakness and honor. He loved his niece
+with a doting affection. She was the apple of his eye. To him the
+thought of personal benefit at the cost of her happiness was a
+sacrilege. Lablache understood this. He knew that on this point the
+rancher's feelings amounted to little short of mania. And yet he
+persisted. John's nature was purely obstinate, and obstinacy is
+weakness. The money-lender knew that obstinacy could be broken down by
+steady determination. However, time, with him, was now everything. He
+must clinch the deal with as little delay as possible if he would escape
+from Foss River and the ruinous attacks of Retief. This thought was ever
+present with him and urged him to press the old man hard. If John
+Allandale would not be reasonable, he, Lablache, must force an
+acceptance of his terms from him.</p>
+
+<p>The rancher was mollified. His dulled brain suddenly saw a loop-hole of
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I guess you mean well enough, Lablache. But say, ask the child
+yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The other shook his massive head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have&mdash;she has refused.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then why in thunder do you come to me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The angry light was again in the rancher's bloodshot eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why? Because she will marry me if you choose. She can't refuse&mdash;she
+dare not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then, by God, I'll refuse for her&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He paused disconcertedly in his wrath. Lablache's cold eyes fixed him
+with their icy stare.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well, John,&quot; said Lablache, with a contemptuous shrug. &quot;You know
+the inevitable result of such a hasty decision. It means ruin to
+you&mdash;beggary to that poor child.&quot; His teeth snapped viciously. Then he
+smiled with his mouth. &quot;I can only put your de&mdash;refusal down to utter,
+unworthy selfishness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not selfishness, Lablache&mdash;not that. I would sacrifice everything in
+the world for that child&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Except your own pleasure&mdash;your own personal comforts. Bah, man!&quot; with
+scathing contempt, &quot;your object must be plain to the veriest fool. You
+do not wish to lose her. You fear to lose your best servant lest in
+consequence you find the work of the ranch thrust upon your own hands.
+You would have no time to indulge your love of play. You would no longer
+be able to spend three parts of your time in 'old man' Smith's filthy
+bar. Your conduct is laudable, John&mdash;it is worthy of you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache had expected another outburst of anger, but John only leered in
+response to the other's contempt. Drunk as he was, the rancher saw the
+absurdity of the attack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Piffle!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;Now see, when Jacky comes in you shall hear
+what she has to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John smiled with satisfaction at his own 'cuteness. He felt that
+he had outwitted the astute usurer. His simplicity, however, was of an
+infantile order.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That would be useless.&quot; Lablache did not want to be confronted with
+Jacky. &quot;My mind is quite made up. The Calford Trust will begin
+proceedings at once, unless&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Unless I give my consent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The satisfaction had suddenly died out of John Allandale's face. Even in
+his maudlin condition he understood the relentless purpose which backed
+the money-lender's proposal. To his credit be it said that he was
+thinking only of Jacky&mdash;the one being who was dearer to him than all
+else in the world. For himself he had no thought&mdash;he did not care what
+happened. But he longed to save his niece from the threatened
+catastrophe. His seared old face worked in his distress. Lablache beheld
+the sign, and knew that he was weakening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why force me to extremities, John?&quot; he said presently. &quot;If you would
+only be reasonable, I feel sure you would have no matter for regret.
+Now, suppose I went a step further.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;no,&quot; weakly. There followed a pause. John Allandale avoided the
+other's eyes. To the old man the silence of the room became intolerable.
+He opened his lips to speak. Then he closed them&mdash;only to open them
+again. &quot;But&mdash;but what step do you propose? Is&mdash;is it honest?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perfectly.&quot; Lablache was smiling in that indulgent manner he knew so
+well how to assume. &quot;And it might appeal to you. Pressure is a thing I
+hate. Now&mdash;suppose we leave the matter to&mdash;to chance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Chance?&quot; The rancher questioned the other doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;why not?&quot; The money-lender's smile broadened and he leaned forward
+to impress his hearer the more surely. &quot;A little game&mdash;a game of poker,
+eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>John Allandale shook his head. He failed to grasp the other's meaning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't understand,&quot; he said, struggling with the liquor which fogged
+his dull brain.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, of course you don't,&quot; easily. &quot;Now listen to me and I'll tell you
+what I mean.&quot; The money-lender spoke as though addressing a wayward
+child. &quot;The stakes shall be my terms against your influence with Jacky.
+If you win you keep your girl, and I cancel your mortgages; if I win I
+marry your girl under the conditions I have already offered. It's wholly
+an arrangement for your benefit. All I can possibly gain is your girl.
+Whichever way the game goes I must pay. Saints alive&mdash;but what an old
+fool I am!&quot; He laughed constrainedly. &quot;For the sake of a pretty face I'm
+going to give you everything&mdash;but there,&quot; seriously, &quot;I'd do more to win
+that sweet child for my wife. What d'you say, John?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There could be no doubt that Lablache meant what he said, only he might
+have put it differently. Had he said that there was nothing at which he
+would stop to secure Jacky, it would have been more in keeping with the
+facts, He meant to marry the girl. His bilious eyes watered. There was a
+sensual look in them. His heavy lips parted and closed with a sucking
+smack as though expressing appreciation of a tasty morsel.</p>
+
+<p>John remained silent, but into his eyes had leapt a gleam which told of
+the lust of gaming aroused. His look&mdash;his whole face spoke for him.
+Lablache had primed his hook with an irresistible bait. He knew his man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;See,&quot; he went on, as the other remained silent, &quot;this is the way we can
+arrange it. We will play 'Jackpots' only. The best seven out of
+thirteen. It will be a pretty game, in which, from an outsider's point
+of view, I alone can be the loser. If I win I shall consider myself
+amply repaid. If I lose&mdash;well,&quot; with an expressive movement of the
+hands, &quot;I will take my chance&mdash;as a sportsman should. I love your niece,
+John, and will risk everything to win her. Now, think of it. It will be
+the sweetest, prettiest gamble. And, too, think of the stake. A fortune,
+John&mdash;a fortune for you. And for me a bare possibility of realizing my
+hopes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old gambler's last vestige of honor struggled to make itself
+apparent in a negative movement of the head. But the movement would not
+come. His thoughts were of the game, and ere yet the last words of the
+money-lender had ceased to sound, he was captured. The satanic cunning
+of the proposal was lost upon his sodden intellect. It was a
+contemptible, pitiable piece of chicanery with which Lablache sought to
+trap the old man into giving his consent and assistance. The
+money-lender had no intention of losing the game. He knew he must win.
+He was merely resorting to this means because he knew the gambling
+spirit of the rancher. He knew that &quot;Poker&quot; John's obstinacy was proof
+against any direct attack; that no persuasion would induce the consent
+he desired. The method of a boxer pounding the body of an opponent whom
+he knows to be afflicted with some organic weakness of the heart is no
+more cowardly than was Lablache's proposal.</p>
+
+<p>The rancher still remained silent. Lablache moved in his chair; one of
+his great fat hands rested for a moment on John's coat sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, old friend,&quot; he said, with a hoarse, whistling breath. &quot;Shall you
+play&mdash;play the game? It will be a grand finale to the
+many&mdash;er&mdash;comfortable games we have played together. Well? Thirteen
+'Jackpots,' John&mdash;yes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And&mdash;and if I consented&mdash;mind, I only say 'if.'&quot; The rancher's face
+twitched nervously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You would stand to win a fortune&mdash;and also one for your niece.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes. I might win. My luck may turn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must&mdash;you cannot always lose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Quite right&mdash;I must win soon. It is a great offer&mdash;a splendid stake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes, Lablache, I will play. God, man! I will play you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Beads of sweat stood on John Allandale's forehead as he literally hurled
+his acceptance at his companion. He accepted in the manner of one who
+knows he is setting at defiance all honesty and right, urged to such a
+course by an all-mastering passion, which he is incapable of resisting.</p>
+
+<p>Strange was the nature of this man. He knew himself as it is given to
+few weak men to know themselves. He knew that he wished to do this
+thing. He knew, also, that he was doing wrong. Moreover he knew that he
+wished to stand by Jacky and be true to his great affection for her. He
+was under the influence of potent spirit, and yet his thoughts and
+judgment were clear upon the subject. His mania had possessed him and he
+would play from choice; and all the while he could hear the voice of
+conscience rating him. He would have preferred to play now, but then he
+remembered the quantity of spirit he had consumed. He must take no
+chances. When he played Lablache he must be sober. The delay of one
+night, however, he knew would bring him agonies of remorse, therefore he
+would settle everything now so that in the throes of conscience he could
+not refuse to play. He feared delay. He feared the vacillation which the
+solitary hours of the night might bring to him. He leant forward and
+thickly urged the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When shall it be? Quick, man, let us have no delay. The time,
+Lablache&mdash;the time and place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache wheezed unctuously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's the spirit I like, John,&quot; he said, fingering his watch-chain
+with his fat hands. &quot;To business. The place&mdash;er&mdash;yes.&quot; A moment's
+thought whilst the rancher waited with impatience. &quot;Ah, I know. That
+implement shed on your fifty-acre pasture. Excellent. There is a living
+room in it. You used to keep a man there. It is disused now. It will
+suit us admirably. We can use that room. And the time&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To-morrow, Lablache. It must be to-morrow. I could not wait longer,&quot;
+broke in the other, in a voice husky with eagerness and liquor. &quot;After
+dark, when no one can see us going out to the shed. No one must know,
+Lablache, mind&mdash;no one. Jacky will not dream of what we are doing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. To-morrow, then. At eleven o'clock at night, John. And as
+you say in the meantime&mdash;mum.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was pleased with the rancher's suggestion. It quite fell in
+with his own ideas. Everything must be done quickly now. He must get
+away from Foss River without delay.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes. Mum's the word.&quot; &quot;Poker&quot; John indicated his approval with an
+upward leer as Lablache rose from his chair, and a grotesque pursing of
+his lips and his forefinger at the side of his nose. Then he, too,
+struggled to his feet, and, with unsteady hand, poured out two stiff
+&quot;horns&quot; of whisky.</p>
+
+<p>He held one out to the money-lender and took the other himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I drink to the game,&quot; he said haltingly. &quot;May&mdash;fortune come my way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache nodded comprehensively and slowly raised his glass.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fortune is yours anyhow. Therefore I trust that I win the game.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The two men silently drank. After which Lablache turned to go. He paused
+at the French window and plunged his hand into his coat pocket.</p>
+
+<p>The night was dark outside, and again he became a prey to his moral
+terror of the half-breed raider. He drew out his revolver and opened the
+chamber. The weapon was loaded. Then he turned to old John who was
+staring at him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's risky for me to move about at night, John. I fear Retief has not
+done with me yet. Good-night,&quot; and he passed out on to the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache was the victim of a foreboding. It is a custom to laugh at
+forebodings and set them down to the vagaries of a disordered stomach.
+We laugh too at superstition. Yet how often do we find that the
+portentous significance of these things is actually realized in fact.
+Lablache dreaded Retief.</p>
+
+<p>What would the next twenty-four hours bring forth?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV" />CHAPTER XXV - UNCLE AND NIECE</h2>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John's remorse came swiftly, but not swiftly or strongly enough
+to make him give up the game. After Lablache had taken his departure the
+old rancher sat drinking far into the night. With each fresh potation
+his conscience became less persistent in its protest. He sought no bed
+that night, for gradually his senses left him and he slept where he sat,
+until, towards daybreak he awoke, partially sober and shivering with
+cold. Then he arose, and, wrapping himself in a heavy overcoat, flung
+himself upon a couch, where he again sought sobriety in sleep.</p>
+
+<p>He awoke again soon after daylight. His head was racked with pain. He,
+at first, had only a dim recollection of what had occurred the night
+before. There was a vague sense of something unpleasant having happened,
+but he did not attempt to recall it. He went to his bedroom and douched
+himself with cold water. Then he set out for the kitchen in search of
+coffee with which to slack his burning thirst. It was not until he had
+performed his ablutions that the whole truth of his interview with
+Lablache came back to him. Immediately, now that the effect of the
+liquor had passed off, he became a prey to terrible remorse.</p>
+
+<p>Possibly had Jacky been at hand at that moment, the whole course of
+events might have been altered. Her presence, a good breakfast, and
+occupation might have given him strength to carry out the rejection of
+Lablache's challenge which his remorse suggested. However, none of these
+things were at hand, and John Allandale set out, from force of habit, to
+get his morning &quot;Collins&quot; down at &quot;old man&quot; Smith's. Something to pull
+him together before he encountered his niece, he told himself.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fatal delusion. &quot;Old man&quot; Smith sold drink for gain. The more
+he sold the better he liked it. John Allandale's &quot;Collins&quot; developed, as
+it always did now, into three or four potent drinks. So that by the time
+he returned to the ranch for breakfast his remorse was pushed well into
+the background, and with feverish craving he lodged for the fateful
+game.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his devotion to the bottle John Allandale usually made a
+hearty breakfast. But this morning the sight of Jacky presiding at his
+table upset him, and he left his food almost untasted. Remorse was
+deadened but conscience was yet unsilenced within him. Every time she
+spoke to him, every time he encountered her piercing gray eyes he felt
+himself to be a worse than Judas. In his rough, exaggerated way he told
+himself that he was selling this girl as surely as did the old slave
+owners sell their slaves in bygone days. He endeavored to persuade
+himself that what he was doing was for the best, and certainly that it
+was forced upon him. He would not admit that his mania for poker was the
+main factor in his acceptance of Lablache's terms. Gradually, however,
+his thoughts became intolerable to him, and when Jacky at last remarked
+on the fact that he was eating nothing and drinking only his coffee, he
+could stand it no longer. He pushed his chair back and rose from the
+table, and, muttering an excuse, fled from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle's precipitate flight alarmed Jacky. She had seen, as anybody
+with half an eye could see, that he had had a heavy night. The bleared
+eyes, the puffed lids, the working, nervous face were simple enough
+evidence. She knew, too, that he had already been drinking this morning.
+But these things were not new to her, only painful facts which she was
+unable to alter; but his strange behavior and lack of appetite were
+things to set her thinking.</p>
+
+<p>She was a very active-minded girl. It was not her way to sit wondering
+and puzzling over anything she could not understand. She had a knack of
+setting herself to unravel problems which required explanation in the
+most common-sense way. After giving her uncle time to leave the
+house&mdash;intuition told her that he would do so&mdash;she rose and rang the
+bell. Then she moved to the window while she waited for an answer to her
+summons. She saw the burly figure of her uncle walking swiftly down
+towards the settlement and in the direction of the saloon.</p>
+
+<p>She turned with a sigh as a servant entered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did any one call last night while I was out?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not for you, miss.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, miss, but Mr. Lablache was here. He was with your uncle for a long
+time&mdash;in the office.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did he come in with Mr. Allandale?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, no, miss, the master didn't go out. At least not that I know of.
+Mr. Lablache didn't call exactly. I think he just came straight to the
+office. I shouldn't have known he was there, only I was passing the door
+and heard his voice&mdash;and the master's.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, that will do&mdash;just wait a moment, though. Say, is Silas around?
+Just find him and send him right along. Tell him to come to the
+veranda.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The servant departed, and Jacky sat down at a writing-table and wrote a
+note to &quot;Lord&quot; Bill. The note was brief but direct in its tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can you see me this afternoon? Shall be in after tea.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>That was all she put, and added her strong, bold signature to it. Silas
+came to the window and she gave him the note with instructions to
+deliver it into the hands of the Hon. Bunning-Ford.</p>
+
+<p>The letter dispatched she felt easier in her mind.</p>
+
+<p>What had Lablache been closeted with her uncle for? This was the
+question which puzzled&mdash;nay, alarmed her. She had seen her uncle early
+on the previous evening, and he had seemed happy enough. She wished now,
+when she had returned from visiting Mrs. Abbot, that she had thought to
+see if her uncle was in. It had become such a custom for him lately to
+be out all the evening that she had long ceased her childhood's custom
+of saying &quot;Good-night&quot; to him before retiring to bed. One thing was
+certain, she felt her uncle's strange behavior this morning was in some
+way due to Lablache's visit. She meant to find out what that visit
+meant.</p>
+
+<p>To this end several plans occurred to her, but in each case were
+abandoned as unsuitable.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; she murmured at last, &quot;I guess I'll tax him with it. He'll tell
+me. If Lablache means war, well&mdash;I've a notion he'll get a hustling he
+don't consider.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then she left the sitting-room that she might set about her day's work.
+She would see her uncle at dinner-time.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River had not yet risen to the civilized state of late dinners and
+indigestion. Early rising and hard work demanded early meals and hearty
+feeding. Dinner generally occurred at noon&mdash;an hour at which European
+society thinks of taking its <i>d&eacute;jeuner</i>. By rising late society can thus
+avoid what little fresh, wholesome air there is to be obtained in a
+large city. Civilization jibs at early rising. Foss River was still a
+wild and savage country.</p>
+
+<p>At noon Jacky came in to dinner. She had not seen her uncle since
+breakfast. The old man had not returned from the settlement. Truth to
+tell he wished to avoid his niece as much as possible for to-day. As
+dinner-time came round he grew nervous and uncomfortable, and was half
+inclined to accept &quot;old man&quot; Smith's invitation to dine at the saloon.
+Then he realized that this would only alarm Jacky and set her thinking.
+Therefore he plucked up the shattered remains of his moral courage and
+returned to the ranch. When a man looses his last grip on his
+self-respect he sinks with cruel rapidity. &quot;Poker&quot; John told himself
+that he was betraying his niece's affection, and with this assurance he
+told himself that he was the lowest-down cur in the country. The natural
+consequence to a man of his habit and propensity was&mdash;drink. The one
+time in his life when he should have refrained from indulgence he drank;
+and with each drink he made the fatal promise to himself that it should
+be the last.</p>
+
+<p>When Jacky saw him swaying as he came up towards the house she could
+have cried out in very anguish. It smote her to the heart to see the old
+man whom she so loved in this condition. Yet when he lurched on to the
+veranda she smiled lovingly up into his face and gave no sign that she
+had any knowledge of his state.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come right along, uncle,&quot; she said gayly, linking her arm within his,
+&quot;dinner is on. You must be good and hungry, you made such a poor
+breakfast this morning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, child, I wasn't very well,&quot; he mumbled thickly. &quot;Not very
+well&mdash;now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You poor dear, come along,&quot; and she led him in through the open window.</p>
+
+<p>During the meal Jacky talked incessantly. She talked of everything but
+what had upset her uncle. She avoided any reference to Lablache with
+great care. But, in spite of her cheerfulness, she could not rouse the
+degenerate old man. Rather it seemed that, as the meal progressed, he
+became gloomier. The truth was the girl's apparent light-heartedness
+added to his self-revilings and made him feel more criminal than ever.
+He ate his food mechanically, and he drank glass after glass of ale.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky heaved a sigh of relief when the meal was over. She felt that she
+could not much longer have kept up her light-hearted talk. Her uncle was
+about to move from the table. The girl stayed him with a gesture. He had
+eaten a good dinner and she was satisfied. Now she would question him.</p>
+
+<p>It is strange how a woman, in whatever relationship she may stand, loves
+to see a man eat well. Possibly she understands the effect of a good
+dinner upon the man in whom she centers her affection; possibly it is
+the natural maternal instinct for his well-being.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle, what did Lablache come to see you for last night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The question was abrupt. It had the effect of bringing the rancher back
+to his seat with a drunken lurch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh?&quot; he queried, blinking nervously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What did he come for?&quot; Jacky persisted.</p>
+
+<p>The girl could be relentless even with her uncle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lablache&mdash;oh&mdash;er&mdash;talk bus&mdash;bus'ness, child&mdash;bus'ness,&quot; and he
+attempted to get up from his chair again.</p>
+
+<p>But Jacky would not let him go.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wait a moment, uncle dear, I want to talk to you. I sha'n't keep you
+long.&quot; The old man looked anywhere but at his companion. A cold sweat
+was on his forehead, and his cheek twitched painfully under the steady
+gaze of the girl's somber eyes. &quot;I don't often get a chance of talking
+to you now,&quot; she went on, with a slight touch of bitterness. &quot;I just
+want to talk about that skunk, Lablache. I guess he didn't pass the
+evening talking of Retief&mdash;and what he intends to do towards his
+capture? Say, uncle, what was it about?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man grasped at the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;yes, child. It was Retief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He kept his eyes averted. The girl was not deceived.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All the time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John remained silent. He would have lied but could not.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was a moral pressure. The old man turned for relief to his
+avuncular authority.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I must go. You've no right&mdash;question me,&quot; he stuttered. &quot;I refu&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, uncle, you won't refuse me.&quot; The girl had risen and had moved round
+to where the old man sat. She fondled him lovingly and his attempt at
+angry protest died within him. &quot;Come, dear, tell me all about it. You
+are worried and I can help you. What did he threaten you with? I
+suppose he wants money,&quot; contemptuously. &quot;How much?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old drunkard was powerless to resist her loving appeal.</p>
+
+<p>He was cornered. Another might have lied and so escaped, but John
+Allandale's weakness was such that he had not the courage to resort to
+subterfuge. Moreover, there was a faint spark of honor nickering deep
+down in his kindly heart. The girl's affectionate display was surely
+fanning that spark into a flame. Would the flame grow or would it
+sparkle up for one brief moment and then go out from pure lack of fuel?
+Suddenly something of the truth of the cause of her uncle's distress
+flashed across Jacky's mind. She knew Lablache's wishes in regard to
+herself. Perhaps she was the subject of that interview.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle, it is I who am causing you this trouble. What is it that
+Lablache wants of me?&quot; She asked the question with her cheek pressed to
+the old man's face. His whisky-laden breath reeked in her nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>Her question took him unawares, and he started up pushing her from him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who&mdash;who told you, girl?&quot; His bleared eyes were now turned upon her,
+and they gazed fearfully into hers.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought so,&quot; she exclaimed, smiling back into the troubled face. &quot;No
+one told me, uncle, I guess that beast wants to marry me. Say, uncle,
+you can tell me everything right here. I'll help you. He's smart, but he
+can't mate with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But&mdash;but&mdash;&quot; He struggled to collect his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No 'buts,' dear. I've refused Lablache once. I guess I can size up the
+racket he thinks to play. Money&mdash;money! He'd like to buy me, I take it.
+Say, uncle, can't we frolic him some? Now&mdash;what did he say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I&mdash;can't tell you, child,&quot; the old man protested desperately. Then he
+weakened further before those deep, steadfast eyes. &quot;Don't&mdash;press me.
+Don'&mdash;press me.&quot; His voice contained maudlin tears. &quot;I'm a vill'n,
+girl. I'm worse. Don'&mdash;look a' me&mdash;like that.
+Ja'y&mdash;Ja'y&mdash;I've&mdash;sol'&mdash;you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The miserable old man flung himself back in his chair and his head bowed
+until his chin sank heavily upon his chest. Two great tears welled into
+his bloodshot eyes and trickled slowly down his seared old cheeks. It
+was a pitiable sight. Jacky looked on silently for a moment. Her eyes
+took in every detail of that picture of despair. She had heard the old
+man's words but took no heed of them. She was thinking very hard.
+Suddenly she seemed to arrive at a decision. Her laugh rang out, and she
+came and knelt at her uncle's side.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So you've sold me, you old dear, and not a bad thing too. What's the
+price?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle raised his bowed head. Her smiling face dried his tears and
+put fresh heart into him. He had expected bitter invective, but instead
+the girl smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky's task now became a simple one. A mere matter of pumping. Sharp
+questions and rambling replies. Bit by bit she learned the story of
+Lablache's proposal and the manner in which an acceptance had been
+forced upon her uncle. She did not relinquish her task until the
+minutest detail had been gleaned. At last she was satisfied with her
+cross-examination.</p>
+
+<p>She rose to her feet and passed her hand with a caressing movement over
+her uncle's head, gazing the while out of the window. Her mind was made
+up. Her uncle needed her help now. That help should be his. She condoned
+his faults; she saw nothing but that which was lovable in his weakness.
+Hers was now the strength to protect him, who, in the days of his best
+manhood had sheltered her from the cruel struggles of a life in the
+half-breed camp, for such, at the death of her impecunious father, must
+otherwise have been her lot.</p>
+
+<p>Now she looked down into that worn, old face, and her brisk,
+business-like tones roused him into new life.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle, you must meet Lablache and play&mdash;the game. For the rest, leave
+it to me. All I ask is&mdash;no more whisky to-day. Stay right here and have
+a sleep. Guess you might go an' lie down. I'll call you for supper. Then
+you'll be fit. One thing you must remember; watch that ugly-faced cur
+when you play. See he don't cheat any. I'll tell you more before you
+start out. Come right along now and have that sleep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man got up and the girl led him from the room. She saw him to
+his bedroom and then left him. She decided that, for herself, she would
+not leave the house until she had seen Bill. She must get her uncle
+sober before he went to meet Lablache.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI" />CHAPTER XXVI - IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Foss River Settlement was, at the time, a very small place, and of
+practically no importance. It was brought into existence by the
+neighborhood of one or two large ranches; these ranches employed
+considerable labor. Foss River might be visited by an earthquake, and,
+provided the earthquake was not felt elsewhere, the world would not be
+likely to hear of it for weeks. The newspapers of the Western cities
+were in their infancy, and contented themselves with the news of their
+own towns and feverish criticisms of politics which were beyond the
+understanding of their editors. Progress in the West was very
+slow&mdash;almost at a standstill.</p>
+
+<p>After the death of Horrocks the police had withdrawn to report and to
+receive augmentation. No one felt alarm at their absence. The
+inhabitants of Foss River were a self-reliant people&mdash;accustomed to look
+to themselves for the remedy of a grievance. Besides, Horrocks, they
+said, had shown himself to be a duffer&mdash;merely a tracker, a prairie-man
+and not the man to bring Retief to justice. Already the younger members
+of the settlement and district were forming themselves into a vigilance
+committee. The elders&mdash;those to whom the younger looked for a lead in
+such matters&mdash;had chosen to go to the police; now the younger of the
+settlement decided to act for themselves.</p>
+
+<p>This was the condition and feeling in Foss River at the time of the
+death of Horrocks; this was the state of affairs when the <i>insouciant</i>
+Bill leisurely strolled into the sitting-room at the Foss River Ranch,
+about the time that Joaquina Allandale had finished her tea. With the
+familiarity of the West, Bill entered by the French window. His lazy
+smile was undisturbed. He might have been paying an ordinary call
+instead of answering a summons which he knew must be a matter of
+emergency, for it was understood between these two that private meetings
+were tabooed, except when necessity demanded them.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky's greeting was not reassuring, but her lover's expression remained
+unchanged, except that his weary eyelids further unclosed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess we're side-tracked, Bill,&quot; she said meaningly. &quot;The line's
+blocked. Signals dead against us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked into her eyes; then he turned and closed the window,
+latching it securely. The door was closed. His keen eyes noted this.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The next twelve hours must finish our game.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; the girl went on, &quot;it is Lablache's doing. We must settle our
+reckoning with him to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill flung himself into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will you explain?&mdash;I don't understand. May I smoke?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky smiled. The request was so unnecessary. She always liked Bill's
+nonchalance. It conveyed such a suggestion of latent power.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, smoke, Bill; smoke and get your thinking box in order. My yarn
+won't take a deal of time to tell. But it'll take a deal of thought to
+upset Lablache's last move, without&mdash;shootin'.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Um&mdash;shooting's an evil, but sometimes&mdash;necessary. What's his racket?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl told her story quickly. She forgot nothing. She never allowed
+herself to fall into the womanly mistake of omitting details, however
+small.</p>
+
+<p>Bill fully appreciated her cleverness in this direction. He could trust
+what she said implicitly. At the conclusion of the story he sat up and
+rolled another cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And your uncle is upstairs in bed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, when he wakes I guess he'll need a bracer. He'll be sober. He must
+play. Lablache means to win.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, he means to win. He has had a bad scare.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are we going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl eyed her lover keenly. She saw by his manner that he was
+thinking rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The game must be interrupted&mdash;with another scare.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are you going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Burn him out&mdash;his store. And then&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And then?&quot; eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Retief will be present at the game. Tell him what has happened and&mdash;if
+he doesn't leave Foss River&mdash;shoot him. Mortgages and all records of
+debts, etc., are in his store.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>After expressing her approval the girl sat gazing into her lover's face.
+They talked a little longer, then Bill rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eleven o'clock to-night you say is the appointed hour?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. I shall meet you at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Better not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I am going to be there,&quot; with a decisive nod. &quot;One cannot be sure.
+You may need me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well. Good-by, little woman.&quot; &quot;Lord&quot; Bill bent and kissed her.
+Then something very like a sigh escaped him. &quot;I think with you this game
+is nearly up. To-night will settle things one way or the other.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. Trouble is not far off. Say, Bill, when it comes, I want to be
+with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked tenderly down into the upturned face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is that why you insist on coming to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Another embrace and Bill left the house.</p>
+
+<p>He sauntered leisurely down the avenue of pines. He kept straight on
+towards the muskeg. Then he turned away from the settlement, and was
+soon lost behind the rising ground which shored the great mire. Once out
+of sight of the house he quickened his pace, gradually swinging away
+from the keg, and heading towards the half-breed camp.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River might have been deserted for all signs of life he
+encountered. The prairie was calmly silent. Not even the call of the
+birds broke the stillness around. The heat of the afternoon had lulled
+all nature to repose.</p>
+
+<p>He strode on swiftly until he came to a small bluff. Here he halted and
+threw himself full length upon the ground in a welcome shade. He was
+within sight of the half-breed camp. He shifted his position until his
+head was in the sun. In this way he could see the scattered dwellings of
+the prairie outcasts. Then he drew a small piece of looking-glass from
+his pocket and held it out in the sun. Turning and twisting it in the
+direction of the camp, as might a child who wishes to dazzle a
+play-fellow's eyes. For several minutes he thus manipulated his
+impromptu heliograph. Then, as he suddenly beheld an answering flash in
+the distance, he desisted, and returned the glass to his pocket. Now he
+drew back in the shade and composed himself to smoke.</p>
+
+<p>The half-closed eyes of the recumbent man gazed steadily out towards the
+camp. He had nearly finished his third cigarette when his quick ears
+caught the sound of footsteps. Instantly he sat up. The steps grew
+louder and then round the sheltering bush came the thick-set form of
+Gautier. He was accompanied by an evil-looking dog which growled sulkily
+as it espied the white man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ugh! Hot walkin',&quot; said the newcomer, by way of greeting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so hot as it'll be to-night,&quot; said the white man, quietly. &quot;Sit
+down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;More bonfires, boss?&quot; said the half-breed, with a meaning grin, seating
+himself as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;More bonfires. See you, I want six of the boys at Lablache's store
+to-night at eleven o'clock. We are going to burn his place. It will be
+quite easy. Lablache will be away, and only his clerks on the premises.
+The cellar underneath the building is lit by barred windows, two under
+the front, and two under the office at the back. All you have to do is
+to break the glass of the window at the back and pour in a couple of
+gallons of coal oil. Then push in some straw, and then light a piece of
+oil-soaked rope and drop it in. The cellar is full of cases of goods and
+barrels of oil. The fire will be unextinguishable. Directly it is well
+lit see that the clerks are warned. We want no lives lost. You
+understand? The stables are adjacent and will catch fire too. I sha'n't
+be there until later. There will be no risk and lots of loot. Savee?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The cunning face of the half-breed was lit by an unholy grin. He rubbed
+his hands with the unctuous anticipation of a shop-walker. Truly, he
+thought, this white man was a man after his own heart. He wagged his
+head in approval.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Easy&mdash;easy? It is childlike,&quot; he said in ecstasy. &quot;I have long thought
+of it, sure. An' thar is a big store of whisky thar, eh, boss?
+Good&mdash;good! And what time will you come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When the fire is lit. I go to deal with Lablache. Look you here,
+Gautier, you owe that man a grudge. You would kill him but you don't
+dare. I may pay off that grudge for you. Pay it by a means that is
+better than killing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Torture,&quot; grinned the half-breed.</p>
+
+<p>Bill nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now see and be off. And don't make any mistake, or we may all swing for
+it. Tell Baptiste he must go over the keg at once and bring Golden Eagle
+to my shack at about half-past ten. Tell him to be punctual. Now scoot.
+No mistakes, or&mdash;&quot; and Bill made a significant gesture.</p>
+
+<p>The man understood and hurried away. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was satisfied that his
+orders would be carried out to the letter. The service he demanded of
+this man was congenial service, in so far that it promised loot in
+plenty and easily acquired. Moreover, the criminal side of the
+half-breed's nature was tickled. A liberal reward for honesty would be
+less likely to secure good service from such as Gautier than a chance of
+gain for shady work. It was the half-breed nature.</p>
+
+<p>After the departure of the half-breed, Bill remained where he was for
+some time. He sat with his hands clasped round his knees, gazing
+thoughtfully out towards the camp. He was reviewing his forces and
+mentally struggling to penetrate the pall which obscured the future. He
+felt himself to be playing a winning game; at least, that his vengeance
+and chastisement of Lablache had been made ridiculously easy for him.
+But now he had come to that point when he wondered what must be the
+outcome of it all as regarded himself and the girl he loved. Would his
+persecution drive Lablache from Foss River to the security of Calford,
+Where he would be able to follow him and still further prosecute his
+inexorable vengeance? Or would he still choose to remain? He knew
+Lablache to be a strong man, but he also knew, by the money-lender's
+sudden determination to force Jacky into marriage with him, that he had
+received a scare. He could not decide on the point. But he inclined to
+the belief that Lablache must go after to-night. He would not spare him.
+He had yet a trump card to play. He would be present at the game of
+cards, and&mdash;well, time would show.</p>
+
+<p>He threw away his mangled cigarette end and rose from the ground. One
+glance of his keen eyes told him that no one was in sight. He strolled
+out upon the prairie and made his way back to the settlement. He need
+not have troubled himself about the future. The future would work itself
+out, and no effort of his would be capable of directing its course. A
+higher power than man's was governing the actions of the participants in
+the Foss River drama.</p>
+
+<p>For the rest of the day &quot;Lord&quot; Bill moved about the settlement in his
+customary idle fashion. He visited the saloon; he showed himself on the
+market-place. He discussed the doings of Retief with the butcher, the
+smith, Dr. Abbot. And, as the evening closed in and the sun's power
+lessened, he identified himself with others as idle as himself, and
+basked in the warmth of its feeble, dying rays.</p>
+
+<p>When darkness closed in he went to his shack and prepared his evening
+meal with a simple directness which no thoughts of coming events could
+upset. Bill was always philosophical. He ate to live, and consequently
+was not particular about his food. He passed the evening between thought
+and tobacco, and only an occasional flashing of his lazy eyes gave any
+sign of the trend of his mental effort.</p>
+
+<p>At a few minutes past ten he went into his bedroom and carefully locked
+the door. Then he drew from beneath his bed a small chest; it was an
+ammunition chest of very powerful make. The small sliding lid was
+securely padlocked. This he opened and drew from within several articles
+of apparel and a small cardboard box.</p>
+
+<p>Next he divested himself of his own tweed clothes and donned the things
+he had taken from the box. These consisted of a pair of moleskin
+trousers, a pair of chaps, a buckskin shirt and a battered Stetson hat.
+From the cardboard box he took out a tin of greasy-looking stuff and a
+long black wig made of horse hair. Stepping to a glass he smeared his
+face with the grease, covering his own white flesh carefully right down
+to the chest and shoulders, also his hands. It was a brownish ocher and
+turned his skin to the copperish hue of the Indian. The wig was
+carefully adjusted and secured by sprigs to his own fair hair. This,
+with the hat well jammed down upon his head, completed the
+transformation, and out from the looking-glass peered the strong, eagle
+face of the redoubtable half-breed, Retief.</p>
+
+<p>He then filled the chest with his own clothes and relocked it. Suddenly
+his quick ear caught the sound of some one approaching. He looked at his
+watch; it wanted two minutes to half-past ten. He waited.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he heard the rattle of a stick down the featheredged boarding
+of the outer walls of the hut. He picked up his revolver belt and
+secured it about his waist, and then, putting out the light, unlocked
+the back door which opened out of his bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>A horse was standing outside, and a man held the bridle reins looped
+upon his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That you, Baptiste?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yup.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good, you are punctual.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's as well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I go to join the boys,&quot; the half-breed said slowly. &quot;And you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I&mdash;oh, I go to settle a last account with Lablache,&quot; replied Bill, with
+a mirthless laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked sharply at the man. He understood the native distrust of the
+Breed. Then he nodded vaguely in the direction of the Foss River Ranch.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yonder. In old John's fifty-acre pasture. Lablache and John meet at the
+tool-shed there to-night. Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you go not to the fire?&quot; Baptiste's voice had a surprised ring in
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not until later. I must be at the meeting soon after eleven.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The half-breed was silent for a minute. He seemed to be calculating. At
+length he spoke. His words conveyed resolve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is good. Guess you may need assistance. I'll be there&mdash;and some of
+the boys. We ain't goin' ter interfere&mdash;if things goes smooth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill shrugged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You need not come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No? Nuthin' more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing. Keep the boys steady. Don't burn the clerks in the store.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;S'long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;S'long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill vaulted into the saddle, and Golden Eagle moved restively
+away.</p>
+
+<p>It was as well that Foss River was a sleepy place. &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's
+precautions were not elaborate. But then he knew the ways of the
+settlement.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Abbot chanced to be standing in the doorway of the saloon. Bill's
+shack was little more than a hundred yards away. The doctor was about to
+step across to see if he were in, for the purpose of luring his friend
+into a game. Poker was not so plentiful with the doctor now since Bill
+had dropped out of Lablache's set.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the dim outline of a horseman moving away from the back of &quot;Lord&quot;
+Bill's hut. His curiosity was aroused. He hastened across to the shack.
+He found it locked up, and in darkness. He turned away wondering. And as
+he turned away he found himself almost face to face with Baptiste. The
+doctor knew the man.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Evening, Baptiste.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Evening,&quot; the man growled.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was about to speak again but the man hurried away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Damned funny,&quot; the medical man muttered. Then he moved off towards his
+own home. Somehow he had forgotten his wish for poker.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII" />CHAPTER XXVII - THE LAST GAMBLE</h2>
+
+
+<p>The fifty-acre pasture was situated nearly a quarter of a mile away to
+the left of John Allandale's house. Then, too, the whole length of it
+must be crossed before the implement shed be reached. This would add
+another half a mile to the distance, for the field was long and narrow,
+skirting as it did the hay slough which provided the ranch with hay. The
+pasture was on the sloping side of the slough, and on the top of the
+ridge stretched a natural fence of pines nearly two miles in extent.</p>
+
+<p>The shed was erected for the accommodation of mowers, horse-rakes, and
+the necessary appurtenances for haying. At one end, as Lablache had
+said, was a living-room. It was called so by courtesy. It was little
+better than the rest of the building, except that there was a crazy door
+to it&mdash;also a window; a rusty iron stove, small, and&mdash;when a fire burned
+in it&mdash;fierce, was crowded into a corner. Now, however, the stove was
+dismantled, and lengths of stove pipe were littered about the floor
+around it. A rough bed, supported on trestles, and innocent of bedding,
+filled one end of this abode; a table made of packing cases, and two
+chairs of the Windsor type, one fairly sound and the other minus a back,
+completed the total of rude furniture necessary for a &quot;hired man's&quot;
+requirements.</p>
+
+<p>A living-room, the money-lender had said, therefore we must accept his
+statement.</p>
+
+<p>A reddish, yellow light from a dingy oil lamp glowed sullenly, and added
+to the cheerlessness of the apartment. At intervals black smoke belched
+from the chimney top of the lamp in response to the draughts which blew
+through the sieve-like boarding of the shed. One must feel sorry for
+the hired man whose lot is cast in such cheerless quarters.</p>
+
+<p>It was past eleven. Lablache and John Allandale were seated at the
+table. The lurid light did not improve the expression of their faces.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John was eager&mdash;keenly eager now that Jacky had urged him to the
+game. Moreover, he was sober&mdash;sober as the proverbial &quot;judge.&quot; Also he
+was suspicious of his opponent. Jacky had warned him. He looked very old
+as he sat at that table. His senility appeared in every line of his
+face; in every movement of his shaking hands; in every glance of his
+bleared eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache, also, was changed slightly, but it was not in the direction of
+age; he showed signs of elation, triumph. He felt that he was about to
+accomplish the object which had long been his, and, at the same time,
+outwit the half-breed who had so lately come into his life, with such
+disastrous results to his, the money-lender's, peaceful enjoyment of his
+ill-gotten wealth.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache turned his lashless eyes in the direction of the window. It was
+a square aperture of about two feet in extent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are not likely to be interrupted,&quot; he said wheezily, &quot;but it never
+does to chance anything. Shall we cover the window? A light in this room
+is unusual&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, let us cover it.&quot; &quot;Poker&quot; John chafed at the delay. &quot;No one is
+likely to come this way, though.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache looked about for something which would answer his purpose.
+There was nothing handy. He drew out his great bandanna and tried it. It
+exactly covered the window. So he secured it. It would serve to darken
+the light to any one who might chance to be within sight of the shed. He
+returned to his seat. He bulged over it as he sat down, and its legs
+creaked ominously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have brought three packs of cards,&quot; he said, laying them upon the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So have I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John looked directly into the other's bilious eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah&mdash;then we have six packs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;six.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whose shall we&mdash;&quot; Lablache began.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll cut for it. Ace low. Low wins.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender smiled at the rancher's eagerness. The two men cut in
+silence. Lablache cut a &quot;three&quot;; &quot;Poker&quot; John, a &quot;queen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We will use your cards, John.&quot; The money-lender's face expressed an
+unctuous benignity.</p>
+
+<p>The rancher was surprised, and his tell-tale cheek twitched
+uncomfortably.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For deal,&quot; said Lablache, stripping one of John's packs and passing it
+to his companion. The rancher shuffled and cut&mdash;Lablache cut. The deal
+went to the latter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We want something to score on,&quot; the money-lender said. &quot;My memorandum
+pad&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll have nothing on the table, please.&quot; John had been warned.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shrugged and smiled. He seemed to imply that the precaution was
+unnecessary. &quot;Poker&quot; John was in desperate earnest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A piece of chalk&mdash;on the wall.&quot; The rancher produced the chalk and set
+it on the floor close by the wall and returned to his seat.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache shuffled clumsily. His fingers seemed too gross to handle
+cards. And yet he could shuffle well, and his fingers were, in reality,
+most sensitive. John Allandale looked on eagerly. The money-lender,
+contrary to his custom, dealt swiftly&mdash;so swiftly that the bleared eyes
+of his opponent could not follow his movements.</p>
+
+<p>Both men picked up their cards. The old instincts of poker were not so
+pronounced in the rancher as they used to be. Doubtless the game he was
+now playing did not need such mask-like impassivity of expression as an
+ordinary game would. After all, the pot opened, it merely became a
+question of who held the best hand. There would be no betting. John's
+eyes lighted up as he glanced at the index numerals. He held two
+&quot;Jacks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can you?&quot; Lablache's husky voice rasped in the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dealer eyed his opponent for a second. His face was that of a graven
+image.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How many?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Three.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender passed three cards across the table. Then he discarded
+two cards from his own hand and drew two more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What have you got?&quot; he asked, with a grim pursing of his sagging lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two pairs. Jacks up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache laid his own cards on the table, spreading them out face
+upwards for the rancher to see. He held three &quot;twos.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One to you,&quot; said John Allandale; and he went and chalked the score
+upon the wall.</p>
+
+<p>There was something very business-like about these two men when they
+played cards. And possibly it was only natural. The quiet way in which
+they played implied the deadly earnestness of their game. Their
+surroundings, too, were impressive when associated with the secrecy of
+their doings.</p>
+
+<p>Each man meant to win, and in both were all the baser passions fully
+aroused. Neither would spare the other, each would do his utmost.
+Lablache was sure. John was consumed with a deadly nervousness. But John
+Allandale at cards was the soul of honor. Lablache was confident in his
+superior manipulation&mdash;not play&mdash;of cards. He knew that, bar accidents,
+he must win. The mystery of being able to deal himself &quot;three of a kind&quot;
+and even better was no mystery to him. He preferred his usual
+method&mdash;the method of &quot;reflection,&quot; as he called it; but in the game he
+was now playing such a method would be useless for obvious reasons.
+First of all, knowing his opponent's cards would only be of advantage
+where betting was to ensue. Now he needed the clumsier, if more sure,
+method of dealing himself a hand. And he did not hesitate to adopt it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John dealt The pot was not opened. Lablache again dealt. Still
+the hand passed without the pot being opened. The next time John dealt
+Lablache opened the pot and was promptly beaten. He drew to two queens
+and missed. John drew to a pair of sevens and got a third. The game was
+one all. After this Lablache won three pots in succession and the game
+stood four&mdash;one, in favor of the money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>The old rancher's face more than indicated the state of the game. His
+features were gray and drawn. Already he saw his girl married to the man
+opposite to him. For an instant his weakness led him to think of
+refusing to play further&mdash;to defy Lablache and bid him do his worst.
+Then he remembered that the girl herself had insisted that he must see
+the game through&mdash;besides, he might yet win. He forced his thoughts to
+the coming hand. He was to deal.</p>
+
+<p>The deal, as far as he was concerned, was successful, His spirits rose.</p>
+
+<p>Four&mdash;two.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache took up the cards to deal. John was watching as though his life
+depended upon what he saw. Lablache's clumsy shuffle annoyed him. The
+lashless eyes of the money-lender were bent upon the cards, but he had
+no difficulty in observing the old man's attention. This unusual
+attention he set down to a natural excitement. He had not the smallest
+idea that the old man suspected him. He passed the cards to be cut. The
+rancher cut them carelessly. He had a natural cut. The pack was nearly
+halved. Lablache had prepared for this.</p>
+
+<p>The hand was dealt, and the money-lender won with three aces, all of
+which he had drawn in a five-card draw. He had discarded a pair of nines
+to make the heavy draw. It was clumsy, but he had been forced to it. The
+position of the aces in the pack he had known, and&mdash;well, he meant to
+win.</p>
+
+<p>Five&mdash;two.</p>
+
+<p>The clumsiness of that deal was too palpable. Old John suspected, but
+held his tongue. His anger rose, and the drawn face flushed with the
+suddenness of lightning. He was in a dangerous mood. Lablache saw the
+flush, and a sudden fear gripped his heart. He passed the cards to the
+other, and then, involuntarily, his hand dropped into the right-hand
+pocket of his coat. It came in contact with his revolver&mdash;and stayed
+there.</p>
+
+<p>The next hand passed without the pot being opened&mdash;and the next.
+Lablache was a little cautious. The next deal resulted in favor of the
+rancher.</p>
+
+<p>Five&mdash;three.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache again took the cards. This time he meant to get his hand in the
+deal. At that moment the money-lender would have given a cool thousand
+had a bottle of whisky been on the table. He had not calculated on John
+being sober. He shuffled deliberately and offered the pack to be cut.
+John cut in the same careless manner, but this time he did it purposely.
+Lablache picked up the bottom half of the cut. There was a terrible
+silence in the room, and a deadly purpose was expressed in &quot;Poker&quot;
+John's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender began to deal. In an instant John was on his feet and
+lurched across the table. His hand fell upon the first card which
+Lablache had dealt to himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The ace of clubs,&quot; shouted the rancher, his eyes blazing and his body
+fairly shaking with fury. He turned the card over. It was the ace of
+clubs.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cheat!&quot; he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>He had seen the card at the bottom of the pack as the other had ceased
+to shuffle.</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant's thrilling pause. Then Lablache's hand flew to
+his pocket. He had heard the click of a cocking revolver.</p>
+
+<p>For the moment the rancher's old spirit rose superior to his senile
+debility.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God in heaven! And this is how you've robbed me, you&mdash;you bastard!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poker&quot; John's seared face was at that moment the face of a maniac. He
+literally hurled his fury at the money-lender, who was now standing
+confronting him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the last time, if&mdash;if I swing for it. Prairie law you need, and,
+Hell take you, you shall have it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He swung himself half round. Simultaneously two reports rang out. They
+seemed to meet in one deafening peal, which was exaggerated by the
+smallness of the room. Then all was silence.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache stood unmoved, his yellow eyeballs gleaming wickedly. For a
+second John Allandale swayed while his face assumed a ghastly hue. Then
+in deathly silence he slowly crumpled up, as it were. No sound passed
+his lips and he sank in a heap upon the floor. His still smoking pistol
+dropped beside him from his nerveless fingers.</p>
+
+<p>The rancher had intended to kill Lablache, but the subtle money-lender
+had been too quick. The lashless eyes watched the deathly fall of the
+old man. There was no expression in them but that of vengeful coldness.
+He was accustomed to the unwritten laws of the prairie. He knew that he
+had saved his life by a hair's-breadth. His right hand was still in his
+coat pocket. He had fired through the cloth of the coat.</p>
+
+<p>Some seconds passed. Still Lablache did not move. There was no remorse
+in his heart&mdash;only annoyance. He was thinking with the coolness of a
+callous nerve. He was swiftly calculating the effect of the catastrophe
+as regarded himself. It was the worst thing that could have happened to
+him. Shooting was held lightly on the prairie, he knew, but&mdash;Then he
+slowly drew his pistol from his pocket and looked thoughtfully at it.
+His caution warned him of something. He withdrew the empty cartridge
+case and cleaned out the barrel. Then he put a fresh cartridge in the
+chamber and returned the pistol to his pocket. He was very deliberate,
+and displayed no emotion. His asthmatical breathing, perhaps, might have
+been more pronounced than usual. Then he gathered up the cards from
+floor and table, and wiped out the score upon the wall. He put the cards
+in his pocket. After that he stirred the body of his old companion with
+his foot. There was no sound from the prostrate rancher. Then the
+money-lender gently lowered himself to his knees and placed his hand
+over his victim's heart. It was still. John Allandale was dead.</p>
+
+<p>It was now for the first time that Lablache gave any sign of emotion. It
+was not the emotion of sorrow&mdash;merely fear&mdash;susperstitious fear. As he
+realized that the other was dead his head suddenly turned. It was an
+involuntary movement. And his fishy eyes gazed fearfully behind him. It
+was his first realization of guilt. The brand of Cain must inevitably
+carry with it a sense of horror to him who falls beneath its ban. He was
+a murderer&mdash;and he knew it.</p>
+
+<p>Now his-movements became less deliberate. He felt that he must get away
+from that horrid sight. He rose swiftly, with a display of that agility
+which the unfortunate Horrocks had seen. He glanced about the room and
+took his bearings. He strode to the lamp and put it out. Then he groped
+his way to the window and took down his bandanna; stealthily, and with a
+certain horror, he felt his way in the darkness to the door. He opened
+it and passed out.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII" />CHAPTER XXVIII - SETTLING THE RECKONING</h2>
+
+
+<p>Jacky stood at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture. She had been standing
+there for some minutes. The night was quite dark; there was no moon. Her
+horse, Nigger, was standing hitched to one of the fence posts a few
+yards away from her and inside the pasture. The girl was waiting for
+&quot;Lord&quot; Bill.</p>
+
+<p>Not a sound broke the stillness of the night as she stood listening. A
+wonderful calmness was over all. From her position Jacky had seen the
+light shining through the window of the implement shed. Now the shed was
+quite dark&mdash;the window had been covered. She knew that her uncle and
+Lablache were there. She was growing impatient.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and then she would turn her face from the contemplation of the
+blackness of the distant end of the field to the direction of the
+settlement, her ears straining to catch the sound of her dilatory
+lover's coming. The minutes passed all too swiftly. And her impatience
+grew and found vent in irritable movements and sighs of vexation.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly her ears caught the sound of distant cries coming from the
+settlement. She turned in the direction. A lurid gleam was in the sky.
+Then, as she watched, the glare grew brighter, and sparks shot up in a
+great wreathing cloud of smoke. The direction was unmistakable. She knew
+that Lablache's store had been fired.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good,&quot; she murmured, with a sigh of relief. &quot;I guess Bill'll come right
+along now. I wish he'd come. They've been in that shack ten minutes or
+more. Why don't he come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The glare of the fire fascinated her, and her eyes remained glued in the
+direction of it. The reflection in the sky was widespread and she knew
+that the great building must be gutted, for there was no means of
+putting the fire out. Then her thoughts turned to Lablache, and she
+smiled as she thought of the surprise awaiting him. The sky in the
+distance grew brighter. She could only see the lurid reflection; a
+rising ground intervened between her and the settlement.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly against the very heart of the glare the figure of a horseman
+coming towards her was silhouetted as he rode over the rising ground.
+One glance sufficed the girl. That tall, thin figure was
+unmistakable&mdash;her lover was hastening towards her. She turned to her
+horse and unhitched the reins from the fence post.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Bill came up and dismounted. He led Golden Eagle through the
+gate. The greeting was an almost silent one between these two. Doubtless
+their thoughts carried them beyond mere greetings. They stood for a
+second.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Shall we ride?&quot; said Jacky, inclining her head in the direction of the
+shed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, we will walk. How long have they been there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A quarter of an hour, I guess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come along, then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They walked down the pasture leading their two horses.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see no light,&quot; said Bill, looking straight ahead of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is covered&mdash;the window, I mean. What are you going to do, Bill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lots&mdash;but I shall be guided by circumstances. You must remain outside,
+Jacky; you can see to the horses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;P'r'aps.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man turned sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;P'r'aps?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, one never knows. I guess it's no use fixing things when&mdash;guided by
+circumstances.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They relapsed into silence and walked steadily on. Half the distance was
+covered when Jacky halted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Will Golden Eagle stand 'knee-haltering,' Bill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll 'knee-halter' 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill stood irresolute.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It'll be better, I guess,&quot; the girl pursued. &quot;We'll be freer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right,&quot; replied Bill. &quot;But,&quot; after a pause, &quot;I'd rather you didn't
+come further, little woman&mdash;there may be shooting&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's so. I like shootin'. What's that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The girl had secured her horse, Bill was in the act of securing his.
+Jacky raised her hand in an attitude of attention and turned her face to
+windward. Bill stood erect and listened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&mdash;it's the boys. Baptiste said they would come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a faint rustling of grass near by. Jacky's keen ears had
+detected the stealing sound at once. To others it might have passed for
+the effect of the night breeze.</p>
+
+<p>They listened for a few seconds longer, then Bill turned to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come&mdash;the horses are safe. The boys will not show themselves. I fancy
+they are here to watch only&mdash;me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They continued on towards the shed. They were both wrapt in silent
+thought. Neither was prepared for what was to come. They were still
+nearly a quarter of a mile from the building. Its outline was dimly
+discernible in the darkness. And, too, now the light from the oil lamp
+could be seen dimly shining through the red bandanna which was stretched
+over the window.</p>
+
+<p>Now the sound of &quot;Poker&quot; John's voice raised in anger reached them. They
+stood still with one accord. It was astonishing how the voice traveled
+all that distance. He must be shouting. A sudden fear gripped their
+hearts. Bill was the first to move. With a whispered &quot;Wait here,&quot; he ran
+forward. For an instant Jacky waited, then, on a sudden impulse, she
+followed her lover.</p>
+
+<p>The girl had just started. Suddenly the sharp report of firearms split
+the air. She came up with Bill, who had paused at the sound.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hustle, Bill. It's murder,&quot; the girl panted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; and he ran forward with set face and gleaming eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Murder&mdash;and who was the victim? Bill wondered, and his heart misgave
+him. There was no longer any sound of voices. The rancher had been
+silenced. He thought of the girl behind him. Then his whole mind
+suddenly centered itself upon Lablache. If he had killed the rancher no
+mercy should be shown to him.</p>
+
+<p>Bill was rapidly nearing the building, and it was wrapped in an ominous
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>For a second he again came to a stand. He wanted to make sure. He could
+hear Jacky's speeding footfalls from behind. And he could hear the
+stealthy movements of those others. These were the only sounds that
+reached him. He-went on again. He came to the building. The window was
+directly in front of him. He tried to look into the room but the
+handkerchief effectually hid the interior. Suddenly the light went out.
+He knew what this meant. Turning away from the window he crept towards
+the door. Jacky had come up. He motioned her into the shadow. Then he
+waited.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and a great figure came out. It was Lablache. Even in
+the darkness Bill recognized him. His heavy, asthmatical breathing must
+have betrayed the money-lender if there had been no other means of
+identification.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache stepped out on to the prairie utterly unconscious of the
+figures crouching in the darkness. He stepped heavily forward. Four
+steps&mdash;that was all. A silent spring&mdash;an iron grip round the
+money-lender's throat, from behind. A short, sharp struggle&mdash;a great
+gasping for breath. Then Lablache reeled backwards and fell to the
+ground with Bill hanging to his throat like some tiger. In the fall the
+money-lender's pistol went off. There was a sharp report, and the bullet
+tore up the ground. But no harm was done. Bill held on. Then came the
+swish of a skirt. Jacky was at her lover's side. She dragged the
+money-lender's pistol from his pocket. Then Bill let go his hold and
+stood panting over the prostrate man. The whole thing was done in
+silence. No word was spoken.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache sucked in a deep whistling breath. His eyes rolled and he
+struggled into a sitting posture. He was gazing into the muzzle of
+Bill's pistol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get up!&quot; The stern voice was unlike Bill's, but there was nothing of
+the twang of Retief about it.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender stared, but did not move&mdash;neither did he speak. Jacky
+had darted into the hut. She had gone to light the lamp and learn the
+truth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Get up!&quot; The chilling command forced the money-lender to rise. He saw
+before him the tall, thin figure of his assailant.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Retief!&quot; he gasped, and then stood speechless.</p>
+
+<p>Now the re-lighted lamp glowed through the doorway. Bill pointed towards
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go inside!&quot; The relentless pistol was at Lablache's head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;no! Not inside.&quot; The words whistled on a gasping breath.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go inside!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Cowed and fearful, Lablache obeyed the mandate.</p>
+
+<p>Bill followed the money-lender into the miserable room. His keen eyes
+took in the scene in one swift glance. He saw Jacky kneeling beside the
+prostrate form of her uncle. She was not weeping. Her beautiful face was
+stonily calm. She was just looking down at that still form, that drawn
+gray face, the staring eyes and dropped jaw. Bill saw and understood.
+Lablache might expect no mercy.</p>
+
+<p>The murderer himself was now looking in the direction of&mdash;but not
+at&mdash;the body of his victim. He was gazing with eyes which expressed
+horrified amazement at the sight of the crouching figure of Jacky
+Allandale. He was trying to fathom the meaning of her association with
+Retief.</p>
+
+<p>Bill closed the door. Now he came forward towards the table, always
+keeping Lablache in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is he dead?&quot; Bill's voice was solemn.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky looked up. There was a look as of stone in her somber eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is dead&mdash;dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! For the moment we will leave the dead. Come, let us deal with the
+living. It is time for a final reckoning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a deadly chill in the tone of Bill's voice&mdash;a chill which was
+infinitely more dreadful to Lablache's ears than could any passionate
+outburst have been.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened gently. No one noticed it, so absorbed were they in the
+ghastly matter before them. Wider the door swung and several dusky faces
+appeared in the opening.</p>
+
+<p>The money-lender stood motionless. His gaze ignored the dead. He watched
+the living. He wondered what &quot;Lord&quot; Bill's preamble portended. He shook
+himself like one rousing from some dreadful nightmare. He summoned his
+courage and tried to face the consequences of his act with an outward
+calm. Struggle as he might a deadly fear was ever present.</p>
+
+<p>It was not the actual fear of death&mdash;it was the moral dread of something
+intangible. He feared at that moment not that which was to come. It was
+the presence of the dusky-visaged raider and&mdash;the girl. He feared mostly
+the icy look on Jacky's face. However, his mind was quite clear. He was
+watching for a loophole of escape. And he lost no detail of the scene
+before him.</p>
+
+<p>A matter which puzzled him greatly was the familiar voice of the raider.
+Retief, as he knew him, spoke with a pronounced accent, but now he only
+heard the ordinary tones of an Englishman.</p>
+
+<p>Bill had purposely abandoned his exaggerated Western drawl. Now he
+removed the scarf from his neck and proceeded to wipe the yellow grease
+from his face and neck. Lablache, with dismay in his heart, saw the
+white skin which had been concealed beneath the paint. The truth
+flashed upon him instantly. And before Bill had had time to remove his
+wig his name had passed the money-lender's lips.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bunning-Ford?&quot; he gasped. And in that expression was a world of moral
+fear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, Bunning-Ford, come to settle his last reckoning with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill eyed the murderer steadily and Lablache felt his last grip on his
+courage relax. A terrible fear crept upon him as his courage ebbed.
+Slowly Bill turned his eyes in the direction of the still kneeling
+Jacky. The girl's eyes met his, and, in response to some mute
+understanding which passed between them, she rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>Bill did not speak. He merely looked at his pistol. Jacky spoke as if
+answering some remark of his.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, this is my affair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then she turned upon the money-lender. There was no wrath in her face,
+no anger in her tones; only that horrid, stony purpose which Lablache
+dreaded. He wished she would hurl invective at him. He felt that it
+would have been better so.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The death which you have dealt to that poor old man is too good for
+you&mdash;murderer,&quot; she said, her deep, somber eyes seeming to pass through
+and through the mountain of flesh she was addressing. &quot;I take small
+comfort in the thought that he had no time to suffer bodily pain. You
+will suffer&mdash;later.&quot; Bill gazed at her wonderingly. &quot;Liar!&mdash;cheat!&mdash;you
+pollute the earth. You thought to cozen that poor, harmless old man out
+of his property&mdash;out of me. You thought to ruin him as you have ruined
+others. Your efforts will avail you nothing. From the moment Bill
+discovered the use of your memorandum pad&quot;&mdash;Lablache started&mdash;&quot;your fate
+was sealed. We swore to confiscate your property. For every dollar you
+took from us you should pay ten. But now the matter is different. There
+is a justice on the prairie&mdash;a rough, honest, uncorruptible justice. And
+that justice demands your life. You shall scourge Foss River no longer.
+You have murdered. You shall die!&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky was about to go further with her inexorable denunciation when the
+door of the shed was flung wide, and eight Breeds, headed by Gautier and
+Baptiste, came in. They came in almost noiselessly, their moccasined
+feet giving out scarcely any sound upon the floor of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill turned, startled at the sudden apparition. Jacky hesitated.
+Here was a contingency which none had reckoned upon. One glance at those
+dark, cruel faces warned all three that these prairie outcasts had been
+silent witnesses of everything that had taken place. It was a supreme
+moment, and the deadly pallor which had assumed a leadenish hue on
+Lablache's face told of one who appreciated the horror of that silent
+coming.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste stepped over to where Jacky stood. He looked at her, and then
+his gaze passed to the dead man upon the floor. His beady, black eyes
+turned fiercely upon the cowering money-lender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ow!&quot; he grunted. And his tone was the fierce expression of an Indian
+roused to homicidal purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Then he turned back to Jacky, and the look on his face changed to one of
+sympathy and even love.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not you, missie&mdash;and the white man&mdash;no. The prairie is the land of the
+Breed and his forefathers&mdash;the Red Man. Guess the law of the prairie'll
+come best from such as he. You are one of us,&quot; he went on, surveying the
+girl's beautiful face in open admiration. &quot;You've allus been mostly one
+of us&mdash;but I take it y'are too white. No, guess you ain't goin' ter muck
+yer pretty hands wi' the filthy blood of yonder,&quot; pointing to Lablache.
+&quot;These things is fur the likes o' us. Jest leave this skunk to us. Death
+is the sentence, and death he's goin' ter git&mdash;an' it'll be somethin'
+ter remember by all who behold. An' the story shall go down to our
+children. This poor dead thing was our best frien'&mdash;an' he's
+dead&mdash;murdered. So, this is a matter for the Breed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then the half-breed turned away. Seeing the chalk upon the floor he
+stooped and picked it up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's have the formalities. It is but just&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill suddenly interrupted. He was angry at the interference of Baptiste.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hold on!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste swung round. The white man got no further. The Breed broke in
+upon him with animal ferocity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who says hold on? Peace, white man, peace! This is for us. Dare to stop
+us, an'&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky sprang between her lover and the ferocious half-breed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, leave well alone,&quot; she said. And she held up a warning finger.</p>
+
+<p>She knew these men, of a race to which she, in part, belonged. As well
+baulk a tiger of its prey. She knew that if Bill interfered his life
+would pay the forfeit. The sanguinary lust of these human devils once
+aroused, they cared little how it be satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>Bill turned away with a shrug, and he was startled to see that he had
+been noiselessly surrounded by the rest of the half-breeds. Had Jacky's
+command needed support, it would have found it in this ominous movement.</p>
+
+<p>Fate had decreed that the final act in the Foss River drama should come
+from another source than the avenging hands of those who had sealed
+their compact in Bad Man's Hollow.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste turned away from &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, and, at a sign from him, Lablache
+was brought round to the other side of the table&mdash;to where the dead
+rancher was lying. Baptiste handed him the chalk and then pointed to the
+wall, on which had been written the score of old John's last gamble.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write!&quot; he said, turning back to his prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache gazed fearfully around. He essayed to speak, but his tongue
+clove to the roof of his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Write&mdash;while I tell you.&quot; The Breed still pointed to the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache held out the chalk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I kill John Allandale,&quot; dictated Baptiste.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache wrote.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, sign. So.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache signed. Jacky and Bill stood looking on silent and wondering.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now,&quot; said Baptiste, with all the solemnity of a court official, &quot;the
+execution shall take place. Lead him out!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At this instant Jacky laid her hand upon the half-breed's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What&mdash;what is it?&quot; she asked. And from her expression something of the
+stony calmness had gone, leaving in its place a look of wondering not
+untouched with horror.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Devil's Keg!&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX" />CHAPTER XXIX - THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG</h2>
+
+
+<p>Down the sloping shore to the level of the great keg, the party of
+Breeds&mdash;and in their midst the doomed money-lender&mdash;made their way.
+Jacky and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill, on their horses, brought up the rear.</p>
+
+<p>The silent <i>cort&egrave;ge</i> moved slowly on, out on to the oozing path across
+the mire. Lablache was now beyond human aid.</p>
+
+<p>The right and wrong of their determination troubled the Breeds not one
+whit. But it was different with the two white people. What thoughts Bill
+had upon the matter he kept to himself. He certainly felt that he ought
+to interfere, but he knew how worse than useless his interference would
+be. Besides, the man should die. The law of Judge Lynch was the only law
+for such as he. Let that law take its course. Bill would have preferred
+the stout tree and a raw-hide lariat. But&mdash;and he shrugged his
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky felt more deeply upon the subject. She saw the horror in all its
+truest lights, and yet she had flouted her lover's suggestion that she
+should not witness the end. Bad and all as Lablache was&mdash;cruel as was
+his nature, murderer though he be, surely no crime, however heinous,
+could deserve the fate to which he was going. She had
+remonstrated&mdash;urged Baptiste to forego his wanton cruelty, to deal out
+justice tempered with a mercy which should hurl the money-lender to
+oblivion without suffering&mdash;with scarce time to realize the happening.
+Her efforts were unavailing. As well try to turn an ape from its
+mischief&mdash;a man-eater from its mania for human blood. The inherent love
+of cruelty had been too long fostered in these Breeds of Foss River.
+Lablache had too long swayed their destinies with his ruthless hand of
+extortion. All the pent-up hatred, stored in the back cells of memory,
+was now let loose. For all these years in Foss River they had been
+forced to look to Lablache as the ruler of their destinies. Was he not
+the great&mdash;the wealthy man of the place? When he held up his finger they
+must work&mdash;and his wage was the wage of a dog. When money was scarce
+among them, would he not drive them starving from his great store? When
+their children and women were sick, would he not refuse them
+drugs&mdash;food&mdash;nourishment of any sort, unless the money was down? They
+had not even the privilege of men who owned land. There was no credit
+for the Breeds&mdash;outcasts. Baptiste and his fellows remembered all these
+things. Their time had come. They would pay Lablache&mdash;and their score of
+interest should be heavy.</p>
+
+<p>On their way from the shed to the muskeg Lablache had seen the
+reflection of the fire at his store in the sky. Gautier had taken
+devilish satisfaction in telling the wretched man of what had been
+done&mdash;mouthing the details in the manner of one who finds joy in
+cruelty. He remembered past injuries, and reveled in the money-lender's
+agony.</p>
+
+<p>After a toilsome journey the Breeds halted at the point where the path
+divided into three. Jacky and Bill sat on their horses and watched the
+scene. Then, slowly, something of Baptiste's intention was borne in upon
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Jacky reached out and touched her lover's arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill, what are they going to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She asked the question. But the answer was already with her. Her
+companion remained silent. She did not repeat her question.</p>
+
+<p>Then she heard Baptiste's raucous tones as he issued his commands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Loose his hands!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky watched Lablache's face in the dim starlight. It was ghastly. The
+whole figure of the man seemed to have shrunk. The wretched man stood
+free, and yet more surely a prisoner than any criminal in a condemned
+cell.</p>
+
+<p>The uncertain light of the stars showed only the dark expanse of the
+mire upon all sides. In the distance, ahead, the mountains were vaguely
+outlined against the sky; behind and around, nothing but that awful
+death-trap. Jacky had lived all her life beside the muskeg, but never,
+until that moment, had she realized the awful terror of its presence.</p>
+
+<p>Now Baptiste again commanded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Prepare for death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to the listening girl that a devilish tone of exultation rang
+in his words. She roused herself from her fascinated attention. She was
+about to urge her horse forward. But a thin, powerful hand reached out
+and gripped her by the arm. It was &quot;Lord&quot; Bill. His hoarse whisper sung
+in her ears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your own words&mdash;Leave well alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And she allowed her horse to stand.</p>
+
+<p>Now she leaned forward in her saddle and rested her elbows upon the horn
+in front of her. Again she heard Baptiste speak. He seemed to be in sole
+command.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll give yer a chance fur yer life&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again the fiendish laugh underlaid the words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's a chance of a dog&mdash;a yellow dog,&quot; he pursued. Jacky shuddered.
+&quot;But such a chance is too good fur yer likes. Look&mdash;look, those hills.
+See the three tall peaks&mdash;yes, those three, taller than the rest. One
+straight in front; one to the right, an' one away to the left. Guess
+this path divides right hyar&mdash;in three, an' each path heads for one of
+those peaks. Say, jest one trail crosses the keg&mdash;one. Savee? The others
+end sudden, and then&mdash;the keg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The full horror of the man's meaning now became plain to the girl. She
+heaved a great gasp, and turned to Bill. Her lover signed a warning. She
+turned again to the scene before her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, see hyar, you scum,&quot; Baptiste went on. &quot;This is yer chance. Choose
+yer path and foller it. Guess yer can't see it no more than yer ken see
+this one we're on, but you've got the lay of it. Guess you'll travel the
+path yer choose to&mdash;the end. If yer don't move&mdash;an' move mighty
+slippy&mdash;you'll be dumped headlong into the muck. Ef yer git on to the
+right path an' cross the keg safe, yer ken sling off wi' a whole skin.
+Guess you'll fin' it a ticklish job&mdash;mebbe you'll git through. But I've
+a notion yer won't. Now, take yer dog's chance, an' remember, its death
+if yer don't, anyway.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The man ceased speaking. Jacky saw Lablache shake his great head. Then
+something made him look at the mountains beyond. There were the three
+dimly-outlined peaks. They were clear enough to guide him. Jacky,
+watching, saw the expression of his face change. It was as though a
+flicker of hope had risen within him. Then she saw him turn and eye
+Baptiste. He seemed to read in that cruel, dark face a vengeful purpose.
+He seemed to scent a trick. Presently he turned again to the hills.</p>
+
+<p>How plainly the watching girl read the varying emotions which beset him.
+He was trying to face this chance calmly, but the dark expanse of the
+surrounding mire wrung his heart with terror. He could not choose, and
+yet he knew he must do so or&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Choose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache again bent his eyes upon the hills. But his lashless lids would
+flicker, and his vision became impaired. He turned to the Breed with an
+imploring gesture. Baptiste made no movement. His relentless expression
+remained unchanged. The wretched man turned away to the rest of the
+Breeds.</p>
+
+<p>A pistol was leveled at his head and he turned back to Baptiste. The
+only comfort he obtained was a monosyllabic command.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Choose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;God, man, I can't.&quot; Lablache gasped out the words which seemed
+literally to be wrung from him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Choose!&quot; The inexorable tone sent a shudder over the distraught man.
+Even in the starlight the expression of the villain's face was hideous
+to behold.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste's voice again rang out on the still night air.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Move him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A pistol was pushed behind his ear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do y' hear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mercy&mdash;mercy!&quot; cried the distraught man. But he made no move.</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant's pause. Then the loud report of the threatening
+pistol rang out. It had been fired through the lobe of his ear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The exclamation was forced from Jacky. The torture&mdash;the horror nearly
+drove her wild. She lifted her reins as though to ride to the villain's
+aid. Then something&mdash;some cruel recollection&mdash;stayed her. She remembered
+her uncle and her heart hardened.</p>
+
+<p>The merciless torture of the Breed was allowed to pass.</p>
+
+<p>To the wretched victim it seemed that his ear-drum must be split for the
+shot had left him almost stone deaf. The blood trickled from the wound.
+He almost leapt forward. Then he stood all of a tremble as he felt the
+ground shake beneath him. A cold sweat poured down his great face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Choose!&quot; Baptiste followed the terror-stricken man up.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No&mdash;no! Don't shoot! Yes, I'll go&mdash;only&mdash;don't shoot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The abject cowardice the great man now displayed was almost pitiable.
+Bill's lip curled in disdain. He had expected that this man would have
+shown a bold front.</p>
+
+<p>He had always believed Lablache to be, at least, a man of courage. But
+he did not allow for the circumstances&mdash;the surroundings. Lablache on
+the safe ground of the prairie would have faced disaster very
+differently. The thought of that sucking mire was too terrible. The oily
+maw of that death-trap was a thing to strike horror into the bravest
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Which path?&quot; Baptiste spoke, waving his hand in the direction of the
+mountains.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache moved cautiously forward, testing the ground with his foot as
+he went. Then he paused again and eyed the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The right path,&quot; he said at last, in a guttural whisper.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then start.&quot; The words rang out cuttingly upon the night air.</p>
+
+<p>Lablache fixed his eyes upon the distant peak of the mountain which was
+to be his guide. He advanced slowly. The Breeds followed, Jacky and Bill
+bringing up the rear. The ground seemed firm and the money-lender moved
+heavily forward. His breath came in gasps. He was panting, not with
+exertion, but with terror. He could not test the ground until his weight
+was upon it. An outstretched foot pressed on the grassy path told him
+nothing. He knew that the crust would hold until the weight of his body
+was upon it. With every successful step his terror increased. What would
+the next bring forth?</p>
+
+<p>His agony of mind was awful.</p>
+
+<p>He covered about ten yards in this way. The sweat poured from him. His
+clothes stuck to him. He paused for a second and took fresh bearings. He
+turned his head and looked into the muzzle of Baptiste's revolver. He
+shuddered and turned again to the mountains. He pressed forward. Still
+the ground was firm. But this gave him no hope. Suddenly a frightful
+horror swept over him. It was something fresh; he had not thought of it
+before. The fact was strange, but it was so. The path&mdash;had he taken the
+wrong one? He had made his selection at haphazard and he knew that there
+was no turning back. Baptiste had said so and he had seen his resolve
+written in his face. A conviction stole over him that he was on the
+wrong path. He knew he was. He must be. Of course it was only natural.
+The center path must be the main one. He stood still. He could have
+cried out in his mental agony. Again he turned&mdash;and saw the pistol.</p>
+
+<p>He put his foot out. The ground trembled at his touch. He drew back
+with a gurgling cry. He turned and tried another spot. It was firm until
+his weight rested upon it. Then it shook. He sought to return to the
+spot he had left. But now he could not be sure. His mind was uncertain.
+Suddenly he gave a jump. He felt the ground solid beneath him as he
+alighted. His face was streaming. He passed his hand across it in a
+dazed way. His terror increased a hundredfold. Now he endeavored to take
+his bearings afresh. He looked out at the three mountains. The right
+one&mdash;yes, that was it. The right one. He saw the peak, and made another
+step forward. The path held. Another step and his foot went through. He
+drew back with a cry. He tripped and fell heavily. The ground shook
+under him and he lay still, moaning.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste's voice roused him and urged him on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Git on, you skunk,&quot; he said. &quot;Go to yer death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache sat up and looked about. He felt dazed. He knew he must go on.
+Death&mdash;death which ever way he turned. God! did ever a man suffer so?
+The name of John Allandale came to his mind and he gazed wildly about,
+fancying some one had whispered it to him in answer to his thoughts. He
+stood up. He took another step forward with reckless haste. He
+remembered the pistol behind him. The ground seemed to shake under him.
+His distorted fancy was playing tricks with him. Another step. Yes, the
+ground was solid&mdash;no, it shook. The weight of his body came down on the
+spot. His foot went through. He hurled himself backwards again and
+clutched wildly at the ground. He shuddered and cried out. Again came
+Baptiste's voice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Git on, or&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The distraught man struggled to his feet. He was becoming delirious with
+terror. He stepped forward again. The ground seemed solid and he laughed
+a horrid, wild laugh. Another step and another. He paused, breathing
+hard. Then he started to mutter,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On&mdash;on. Yes, on again or they'll have me. The path&mdash;this is the right
+one. I'll cheat 'em yet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He strode out boldly. His foot sank in something soft He did not seem to
+notice it. Another step and his foot sank again in the reeking muck.
+Suddenly he seemed to realize. He threw himself back and obtained a
+foothold. He stood trembling. He turned and tried another direction.
+Again he sank. Again he drew back. His knees tottered and he feared to
+move. Suddenly a ring of metal pressed against his head from behind. In
+a state of panic he stepped forward on the shaking ground. It held. He
+paused, then stepped again, his foot coming down on a reedy tuft. It
+shook, but still held. He took another step. His foot sunk quickly, till
+the soft muck oozed round his ankle. He cried out in terror and turned
+to come back.</p>
+
+<p>Baptiste stood with leveled pistol.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On&mdash;on, you gopher. Turn again an' I wing yer. On, you bastard. You've
+chosen yer path, keep to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mercy&mdash;I'm sinking.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Git on&mdash;not one step back.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lablache struggled to release his sinking limb. By a great effort he
+drew it out only to plunge it into another yielding spot. Again he
+struggled, and in his struggle his other foot slipped from its reedy
+hold. It, too, sank. With a terrible cry he plunged forward. He lurched
+heavily as he sought to drag his feet from the viscid muck. At every
+effort he sank deeper. At last he hurled himself full length upon the
+surface of the reeking mire. He cried aloud, but no one answered him.
+Under his body he felt the yielding crust cave. He clutched at the
+surface grass, but he only plucked the tufts from their roots. They gave
+him no hold.</p>
+
+<p>The silent figures on the path watched his death-struggle. It was
+ghastly&mdash;horrible. The expression of their faces was fiendish. They
+watched with positive joy. There was no pity in the hearts of the
+Breeds.</p>
+
+<p>They hearkened to the man's piteous cries with ears deafened to all
+entreaty. They simply watched&mdash;watched and reveled in the watching&mdash;for
+the terrible end which must come.</p>
+
+<p>Already the murderer's vast proportions were half buried in the slimy
+ooze, and, at every fresh effort to save himself, he sank deeper. But
+the death which the Breeds awaited was slow to come. Slow&mdash;slow. And so
+they would have it.</p>
+
+<p>Like some hungry monster the muskeg mouths its victims with oozing
+saliva, supping slowly, and seemingly revels in anticipation of the
+delicate morsel of human flesh. The watchers heard the gurgling mud,
+like to a great tongue licking, as it wrapped round the doomed man's
+body, sucking him down, down. The clutch of the keg seemed like
+something alive; something so all-powerful&mdash;like the twining feelers of
+the giant cuttle-fish. Slowly they saw the doomed man's legs disappear,
+and already the slimy muck was above his middle.</p>
+
+<p>The minutes dragged along&mdash;the black slime rose&mdash;it was at Lablache's
+breast. His arms were outspread, and, for the moment, they offered
+resistance to the sucking strength of the mud. But the resistance was
+only momentary. Down, down he was drawn into that insatiable maw. The
+dying man's arms canted upwards as his shoulders were dragged under.</p>
+
+<p>He cried&mdash;he shrieked&mdash;he raved. Down, down he went&mdash;the mud touched his
+chin. His head was thrown back in one last wild scream. The watchers saw
+the staring eyes&mdash;the wide-stretched, lashless lids.</p>
+
+<p>His cries died down into gurgles as the mud oozed over into his gaping
+mouth. Down he went to his dreadful death, until his nostrils filled and
+only his awful eyes remained above the muck. The watchers did not move.
+Slowly&mdash;slowly and silently now&mdash;the last of him disappeared. Once his
+head was below the surface his limpened arms followed swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>The Breeds reluctantly turned back from the horrid spectacle. The
+fearful torture was done. For a few moments no words were spoken. Then,
+at last, it was Baptiste who broke the silence. He looked round on the
+passion-distorted faces about him. Then his beady eyes rested on the
+horrified faces of Jacky and her lover. He eyed them, and presently his
+gaze dropped, and he turned back to his countrymen. He merely said two
+words.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Scatter, boys.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The tragedy was over and his words brought down the curtain. In silence
+the half-breeds turned and slunk away. They passed back over their
+tracks. Each knew that the sooner he reached the camp again, the sooner
+would safety be assured. As the last man departed Baptiste stepped up to
+Jacky and Bill, who had not moved from their positions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Guess there's no cause to complain o' yer friends,&quot; he said, addressing
+Jacky, and leering up into her white, set face.</p>
+
+<p>The girl shivered and turned away with a look of utter loathing on her
+face. She appealed to her lover.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bill&mdash;Bill, send him away. It's&mdash;it's too horrible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lord&quot; Bill fixed his gray eyes on the Breed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Scatter&mdash;we've had enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Eh? Guess yer per-tickler.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a truculent tone in Baptiste's voice.</p>
+
+<p>Bill's revolver was out like lightning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Scatter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And in that word Baptiste realized his dismissal.</p>
+
+<p>His face looked very ugly, but he moved off under the covering muzzle of
+the white man's pistol.</p>
+
+<p>Bill watched him until he was out of sight. Then he turned to Jacky.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well? Which way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jacky did not answer for a moment. She gazed at the mountains. She
+shivered. It might have been the chill morning air&mdash;it might have been
+emotion. Then she looked back in the direction of Foss River. Dawn was
+already streaking the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>She sighed like a weary child, and looked helplessly about. Her lover
+had never seen her vigorous nature so badly affected. But he realized
+the terrors she had been through.</p>
+
+<p>Bill looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yonder.&quot; She pointed to the distant hills. &quot;Foss River is no longer
+possible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The day that sees Lablache&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes&mdash;come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Bill gazed lingeringly in the direction of the settlement. Jacky
+followed his gaze. Then she touched Nigger's flank with her spur. Golden
+Eagle cocked his ears, his head was turned towards Bad Man's Hollow. He
+needed no urging. He felt that he was going home.</p>
+
+<p>Together they rode away across the keg.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Dr. Abbot had been up all night, as had most of Foss River. Everybody
+had been present at the fire. It was daylight when it was discovered
+that John Allandale and Jacky were missing. Lablache had been missed,
+but this had not so much interested people. They thought of Retief and
+waited for daylight.</p>
+
+<p>Silas brought the news of &quot;Poker&quot; John's absence&mdash;also his niece's.
+Immediately was a &quot;hue and cry&quot; taken up. Foss River bustled in search.</p>
+
+<p>It was noon before the rancher was found. Doctor Abbot and Silas had set
+out in search together. The fifty-acre pasture was Silas's suggestion.
+Dr. Abbot did not remember the implement shed.</p>
+
+<p>They found the old man's body. They found Lablache's confession. Silas
+could not read. He took no stock in the writing and thought only of the
+dead man. The doctor had read, but he said nothing. He dispatched Silas
+for help.</p>
+
+<p>When the foreman had gone Dr. Abbot picked up the black wig which Bill
+had used. He stood looking at it for a while, then he put it carefully
+into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! I think I understand something now,&quot; he said, slowly fingering the
+wig. &quot;Um&mdash;yes. I'll burn it when I get home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Silas returned with help. John Allandale was buried quietly in the
+little piece of ground set aside for such purposes. The truth of the
+disappearance of Lablache, Jacky and &quot;Lord&quot; Bill was never known outside
+of the doctor's house.</p>
+
+<p>How much or how little Dr. Abbot knew would be hard to tell. Possibly he
+guessed a great deal. Anyway, whatever he knew was doubtless shared with
+&quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret. For when the doctor had a secret it did not remain his
+long. &quot;Aunt&quot; Margaret had a way with her. However, she was the very
+essence of discretion.</p>
+
+<p>Foss River settled down after its nine days' wonder. It was astonishing
+how quickly the affair was forgotten. But then, Foss River was not yet
+civilized. Its people had not yet learned to worry too much over their
+neighbors' affairs.</p>
+
+
+<p>THE END</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+by Ridgwell Cullum
+
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+Project Gutenberg's The Story of the Foss River Ranch, by Ridgwell Cullum
+
+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: The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+
+Author: Ridgwell Cullum
+
+Release Date: December 27, 2004 [EBook #14482]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE FOSS RIVER RANCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe and the PG Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+
+A Tale of the Northwest
+
+By RIDGWELL CULLUM
+
+Author of
+
+"The Law Breakers," "The Way of the Strong,"
+"The Watchers of the Plains." Etc.
+
+A.L. BURT COMPANY Publishers  New York
+
+Published by Arrangement with THE PAGE COMPANY
+
+Published August, 1903
+
+
+
+
+TO MY WIFE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAP.                                 PAGE
+
+I THE POLO CLUB BALL      1
+
+II THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES      12
+
+III A BIG GAME OF POKER      24
+
+IV AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH      32
+
+V THE "STRAY" BEYOND THE MUSKEG      45
+
+VI "WAYS THAT ARE DARK"      56
+
+VII ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG      64
+
+VIII TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW      76
+
+IX LABLACHE'S "COUP"      88
+
+X "AUNT" MARGARET REFLECTS      96
+
+XI THE CAMPAIGN OPENS      110
+
+XII LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT      120
+
+XIII THE FIRST CHECK      128
+
+XIV THE HUE AND CRY      138
+
+XV AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS      150
+
+XVI GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION      163
+
+XVII THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY      176
+
+XVIII THE PUSKY      188
+
+XIX LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR      200
+
+XX A NIGHT OF TERROR      210
+
+XXI HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG      219
+
+  XXII THE DAY AFTER      230
+
+ XXIII THE PAW OF THE CAT      243
+
+  XXIV "POKER" JOHN ACCEPTS      253
+
+   XXV UNCLE AND NIECE      261
+
+  XXVI IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX      270
+
+ XXVII THE LAST GAMBLE      279
+
+XXVIII SETTLING THE RECKONING      287
+
+  XXIX THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG      297
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE POLO CLUB BALL
+
+
+It was a brilliant gathering--brilliant in every sense of the word. The
+hall was a great effort of the decorator's art; the people were
+faultlessly dressed; the faces were strong, handsome--fair or dark
+complexioned as the case might be; those present represented the wealth
+and fashion of the Western Canadian ranching world. Intellectually, too,
+there was no more fault to find here than is usual in a ballroom in the
+West End of London.
+
+It was the annual ball of the Polo Club, and that was a social function
+of the first water--in the eyes of the Calford world.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Abbot, it is a matter which is quite out of my province,"
+said John Allandale, in answer to a remark from his companion. He was
+leaning over the cushioned back of the Chesterfield upon which an old
+lady was seated, and gazing smilingly over at a group of young people
+standing at the opposite end of the room. "Jacky is one of those young
+ladies whose strength of character carries her beyond the control of
+mere man. Yes, I know what you would say," as Mrs. Abbot glanced up into
+his face with a look of mildly-expressed wonder; "it is true I am her
+uncle and guardian, but, nevertheless, I should no more dream of
+interfering with her--what shall we say?--love affairs, than suggest
+her incapacity to 'boss' a 'round up' worked by a crowd of Mexican
+greasers."
+
+"Then all I can say is that your niece is a very unfortunate girl,"
+replied the old lady, acidly. "How old is she?"
+
+"Twenty-two."
+
+John Allandale, or "Poker" John as he was more familiarly called by all
+who knew him, was still looking over at the group, but an expression had
+suddenly crept into his eyes which might, in a less robust-looking man,
+have been taken for disquiet--even fear. His companion's words had
+brought home to him a partial realization of a responsibility which was
+his.
+
+"Twenty-two," she repeated, "and not a relative living except a
+good-hearted but thoroughly irresponsible uncle. That child is to be
+pitied, John."
+
+The old man sighed. He took no umbrage at his companion's
+brusquely-expressed estimation of himself. He was still watching the
+group at the other end of the room. His face was clouded, and a keen
+observer might have detected a curious twitching of his bronzed right
+cheek, just beneath the eye. His eyes followed the movement of a
+beautiful girl surrounded by a cluster of men, immaculately dressed,
+bronzed--and, for the most part, wholesome-looking. She was dark, almost
+Eastern in her type of features. Her hair was black with the blackness
+of the raven's wing, and coiled in an ample knot low upon her neck. Her
+features, although Eastern, had scarcely the regularity one expects in
+such a type, whilst her eyes quashed without mercy any idea of such
+extraction for her nationality. They were gray, deeply ringed at the
+pupil with black. They were keen eyes--fathomless in their suggestion of
+strength--eyes which might easily mask a world of good or evil.
+
+The music began, and the girl passed from amidst her group of admirers
+upon the arm of a tall, fair man, and was soon lost in the midst of the
+throng of dancers.
+
+"Who is that she is dancing with now?" asked Mrs. Abbot, presently. "I
+didn't see her go off; I was watching Mr. Lablache standing alone and
+disconsolate over there against the door. He looks as if some one had
+done him some terrible injury. See how he is glaring at the dancers."
+
+"Jacky is dancing with 'Lord' Bill. Yes, you are right, Lablache does
+not look very amiable. I think this would be a good opportunity to
+suggest a little gamble in the smoking-room."
+
+"Nothing of the sort," snapped Mrs. Abbot, with the assurance of an old
+friend. "I haven't half finished talking to you yet. It is a most
+extraordinary thing that all you people of the prairie love to call each
+other by nicknames. Why should the Hon. William Bunning-Ford be dubbed
+'Lord' Bill, and why should that sweet niece of yours, who is the
+possessor of such a charming name as Joaquina, be hailed by every man
+within one hundred miles of Calford as 'Jacky'? I think it is both
+absurd and--vulgar."
+
+"Possibly you are right, my dear lady. But you can never alter the ways
+of the prairie. You might just as well try to stem the stream of our
+Foss River in early spring as try to make the prairie man call people by
+their legitimate names. For instance, do you ever hear me spoken of by
+any other name than 'Poker' John?"
+
+Mrs. Abbot looked up sharply. A malicious twinkle was in her eyes.
+
+"There is reason in your sobriquet, John. A man who spends his substance
+and time in playing that fascinating but degrading game called 'Draw
+Poker' deserves no better title."
+
+John Allandale made a "clucking" sound with his tongue. It was his way
+of expressing irritation. Then he stood erect, and glanced round the
+room in search of some one. He was a tall, well-built man and carried
+his fifty odd years fairly well, in spite of his gray hair and the bald
+patch at the crown of his head. Thirty years of a rancher's life had in
+no way lessened the easy carriage and distinguished bearing acquired
+during his upbringing. John Allandale's face and figure were redolent of
+the free life of the prairie. And although, possibly, his fifty-five
+years might have lain more easily upon him he was a man of commanding
+appearance and one not to be passed unnoticed.
+
+Mrs. Abbot was the wife of the doctor of the Foss River Settlement and
+had known John Allandale from the first day he had taken up his abode on
+the land which afterwards became known as the Foss River Ranch until
+now, when he was acknowledged to be a power in the stock-raising world.
+She was a woman of sound, practical, common sense; he was a man of
+action rather than a thinker; she was a woman whose moral guide was an
+invincible sense of duty; he was a man whose sense of responsibility and
+duty was entirely governed by an unreliable inclination. Moreover, he
+was obstinate without being possessed of great strength of will. They
+were characters utterly opposed to one another, and yet they were the
+greatest of friends.
+
+The music had ceased again and once more the walls were lined with
+heated dancers, breathing hard and fanning themselves. Suddenly John
+Allandale saw a face he was looking for. Murmuring an excuse to Mrs.
+Abbot, he strode across the room, just as his niece, leaning upon the
+arm of the Hon. Bunning-Ford, approached where he had been standing.
+
+Mrs. Abbot glanced admiringly up into Jacky's face.
+
+"A successful evening, Joaquina?" she interrogated kindly.
+
+"Lovely, Aunt Margaret, thanks." She always called the doctor's wife
+"Aunt."
+
+Mrs. Abbot nodded.
+
+"I believe you have danced every dance. You must be tired, child. Come
+and sit down."
+
+Jacky was intensely fond of this old lady and looked upon her almost as
+a mother. Her affection was reciprocated. The girl seated herself and
+"Lord" Bill stood over her, fan in hand.
+
+"Say, auntie," exclaimed Jacky, "I've made up my mind to dance every
+dance on the program. And I guess I sha'n't Waste time on feeding."
+
+The girl's beautiful face was aglow with excitement. Mrs. Abbot's face
+indicated horrified amazement.
+
+"My dear child, don't--don't talk like that. It is really dreadful."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled.
+
+"I'm so sorry, auntie, I forgot," the girl replied, with an irresistible
+smile. "I never can get away from the prairie. Do you know, this evening
+old Lablache made me mad, and my hand went round to my hip to get a grip
+on my six-shooter, and I was quite disappointed to feel nothing but
+smooth silk to my touch. I'm not fit for town life, I guess. I'm a
+prairie girl; you can bet your life on it, and nothing will civilize me.
+Billy, do stop wagging that fan."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled a slow, twinkling smile and desisted. He was a tall,
+slight man, with a faint stoop at the shoulders. He looked worthy of his
+title.
+
+"It is no use trying to treat Jacky to a becoming appreciation of social
+requirements," he said, addressing himself with a sort of weary
+deliberation to Mrs. Abbot. "I suggested an ice just now. She said she
+got plenty on the ranch at this time of year," and he shrugged his
+shoulders and laughed pleasantly.
+
+"Well, of course. What does one want ices for?" asked the girl,
+disdainfully. "I came here to dance. But, auntie, dear, where has uncle
+gone? He dashed off as if he were afraid of us when we came up."
+
+"I think he has set his mind on a game of poker, dear, and--"
+
+"And that means he has gone in search of that detestable man, Lablache,"
+Jacky put in sharply.
+
+Her beautiful face flushed with anger as she spoke. But withal there was
+a look of anxiety in her eyes.
+
+"If he must play cards I wish he would play with some one else," she
+pursued.
+
+"Lord" Bill glanced round the room. He saw that Lablache had
+disappeared.
+
+"Well, you see, Lablache has taken a lot of money out of all of us.
+Naturally we wish to get it back," he said quietly, as if in defense of
+her uncle's doings.
+
+"Yes, I know. And--do you?" The girl's tone was cutting.
+
+"Lord" Bill shrugged. Then,--
+
+"As yet I have not had that pleasure."
+
+"And if I know anything of Lablache you never will," put in Mrs. Abbot,
+curtly. "He is not given to parting easily. The qualification most
+necessary amongst gentlemen in the days of our grandfathers was keen
+gambling. You and John, had you lived in those days, might have aspired
+to thrones."
+
+"Yes--or taken to the road. You remember, even then, it was necessary to
+be a 'gentleman' of the road."
+
+"Lord" Bill laughed in his lazy fashion. His keen gray eyes were half
+veiled with eyelids which, seemed too weary to lift themselves. He was a
+handsome man, but his general air of weariness belied the somewhat eagle
+cast of countenance which was his. Mrs. Abbot, watching him, thought
+that the deplorable lassitude which he always exhibited masked a very
+different nature. Jacky possibly had her own estimation of the man.
+Whatever it was, her friendship for him was not to be doubted, and, on
+his part, he never attempted to disguise his admiration of her.
+
+A woman is often a much keener observer of men than she is given credit
+for. A man is frequently disposed to judge another man by his mental
+talents and his peculiarities of temper--or blatant self-advertisement.
+A woman's first thought is for that vague, but comprehensive trait
+"manliness. She drives straight home for the peg upon which to hang her
+judgment. That is why in feminine regard the bookworm goes to the wall
+to make room for the athlete. Possibly Jacky and Mrs. Abbot had probed
+beneath "Lord" Bill's superficial weariness and discovered there a
+nature worthy of their regard. They were both, in their several ways,
+fond of this scion of a noble house.
+
+"It is all very well for you good people to sit there and lecture--or,
+at least, say 'things,'" "Lord" Bill went on. "A man must have
+excitement. Life becomes a burden to the man who lives the humdrum
+existence of ranch life. For the first few years it is all very well. He
+can find a certain excitement in learning the business. The 'round-ups'
+and branding and re-branding of cattle, these things are
+fascinating--for a time. Breaking the wild and woolly broncho is
+thrilling and he needs no other tonic; but when one has gone through all
+this and he finds that no Broncho--or, for that matter, any other
+horse--ever foaled cannot be ridden, it loses its charm and becomes
+boring. On the prairie there are only two things left for him to
+do--drink or gamble. The first is impossible. It is low, degrading.
+Besides it only appeals to certain senses, and does not give one that
+'hair-curling' thrill which makes life tolerable. Consequently the wily
+pasteboard is brought forth--and we live again."
+
+"Stuff," remarked Mrs. Abbot, uncompromisingly.
+
+"Bill, you make me laugh," exclaimed Jacky, smiling up into his face.
+"Your arguments are so characteristic of you. I believe it is nothing
+but sheer indolence that makes you sit down night after night and hand
+over your dollars to that--that Lablache. How much have you lost to him
+this week?"
+
+"Lord" Bill glanced quizzically down at the girl.
+
+"I have purchased seven evenings' excitement at a fairly reasonable
+price."
+
+"Which means?"
+
+The girl leant forward and in her eyes was a look of anxiety. She meant
+to have the truth.
+
+"I have enjoyed myself."
+
+"But the price?"
+
+"Ah--here comes your partner for the next dance," "Lord" Bill went on,
+still smiling. "The band has struck up."
+
+At that moment a broad-shouldered man, with a complexion speaking loudly
+of the prairie, came up to claim the girl.
+
+"Hallo, Pickles," said Bill, quietly turning upon the newcomer and
+ignoring Jacky's question. "Thought you said you weren't coming in
+to-night?"
+
+"Neither was I," the man addressed as "Pickles" retorted, "but Miss
+Jacky promised me two dances," he went on, in strong Irish brogue; "that
+settled it. How d'ye do, Mrs. Abbot? Come along, Miss Jacky, we're
+losing half our dance."
+
+The girl took the proffered arm and was about to move off. She turned
+and spoke to "Lord" Bill over her shoulder.
+
+"How much?"
+
+Bill shrugged his shoulders in a deprecating fashion. The same gentle
+smile hovered round his sleepy eyes.
+
+"Three thousand dollars."
+
+Jacky glided off into the already dancing throng.
+
+For a moment the Hon. Bunning-Ford and Mrs. Abbot watched the girl as
+she glided in and out amongst the dancers, then, with a sigh, the old
+lady turned to her companion. Her kindly wrinkled old face wore a sad
+expression and a half tender look was in her eyes as they rested upon
+the man's face. When she spoke, however, her tone was purely
+conversational.
+
+"Are you not going to dance?"
+
+"No," abstractedly. "I think I've had enough."
+
+"Then come and sit by me and help to cheer an old woman up."
+
+"Lord" Bill smiled as he seated himself upon the lounge.
+
+"I don't think there is much necessity for my cheering influence, Aunt
+Margaret. Amongst your many other charming qualities cheerfulness is not
+the least. Doesn't Jacky look lovely to-night?"
+
+"To-night?--always."
+
+"Yes, of course--but Jacky always seems to surpass herself under
+excitement. One would scarcely expect it, knowing her as we do. But she
+is as wildly delighted with dancing as any miss fresh from school."
+
+"And why not? It is little pleasure that comes into her life. An
+orphan--barely twenty-two--with the entire responsibility of her uncle's
+ranch upon her shoulders. Living in a very hornet's nest of blacklegs
+and--and--"
+
+"Gamblers," put in the man, quietly.
+
+"Yes," Aunt Margaret went on defiantly, "gamblers. With the certain
+knowledge that the home she struggles for, through no fault of her own,
+is passing into the hands of a man she hates and despises--"
+
+"And who by the way is in love with her." "Lord" Bill's mouth was
+curiously pursed.
+
+"What pleasure can she have?" exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, vehemently.
+"Sometimes, much as I am attached to John, I feel as if I should like
+to--to bang him!"
+
+"Poor old John!" Bill's bantering tone nettled the old lady, but she
+said no more. Her anger against those she loved could not last long.
+
+"'Poker' John loves his niece," the man went on, as his companion
+remained silent. "There is nothing in the world he would not do for her,
+if it lay within his power."
+
+"Then let him leave poker alone. His gambling is breaking her heart."
+
+The angry light was again in the old lady's eyes. Her companion did not
+answer for a moment. His lips had assumed that curious pursing. When he
+spoke it was with, great decision.
+
+"Impossible, my dear lady--utterly impossible. Can the Foss River help
+freezing in winter? Can Jacky help talking prairie slang? Can Lablache
+help grubbing for money? Can you help caring for all of our worthless
+selves who belong to the Foss River Settlement? Nothing can alter these
+things. John would play poker on the lid of his own coffin, while the
+undertakers were winding his shroud about him--if they'd lend him a pack
+of cards."
+
+"I believe you encourage him in it," said the old lady, mollified, but
+still sticking to her guns. "There is little to choose between you."
+
+The man shrugged his indolent shoulders. This dear old lady's loyalty to
+Jacky, and, for that matter, to all her friends, pleased while it amused
+him.
+
+"Maybe." Then abruptly, "Let's talk of something else."
+
+At that moment an elderly man was seen edging his way through the
+dancers. He came directly over to Mrs. Abbot.
+
+"It's getting late, Margaret," he said, pausing before her. "I am told
+it is rather gusty outside. The weather prophets think we may have a
+blizzard on us before morning."
+
+"I shouldn't be at all surprised," put in the Hon. Bunning-Ford. "The
+sun-dogs have been showing for the last two days. I'll see what Jacky
+says, and then hunt out old John."
+
+"Yes, for goodness' sake don't let us get caught in a blizzard,"
+exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, fearfully. "If there is one thing I'm afraid of it
+is one of those terrible storms. We have thirty-five miles to go."
+
+The new-comer, Dr. Abbot, smiled at his wife's terrified look, but, as
+he turned to urge Bill to hurry, there was a slightly anxious look on
+his face.
+
+"Hurry up, old man. I'll go and see about our sleigh." Then in an
+undertone, "You can exaggerate a little to persuade them, for the storm
+_is_ coming on and we must get away at once."
+
+A moment or two later "Lord" Bill and Jacky were making their way to the
+smoking-room. On the stairs they met "Poker" John. He was returning to
+the ballroom.
+
+"We were just coming to look for you, uncle," exclaimed Jacky. "They
+tell us it is blowing outside."
+
+"Just what I was coming to tell you, my dear. We must be going. Where
+are the doctor and Aunt Margaret?"
+
+"Getting ready," said Bill, quietly. "Have a good game?"
+
+The old man smiled. His bronzed face indicated extreme satisfaction.
+
+"Not half bad, boy--not half bad. Relieved Lablache of five hundred
+dollars in the last jackpot. Held four deuces. He opened with full on
+aces."
+
+"Poker" John seemed to have forgotten the past heavy losses, and spoke
+gleefully of the paltry five hundred he had just scooped in.
+
+The girl looked relieved, and even the undemonstrative "Lord" Bill
+allowed a scarcely audible sigh to escape him. Jacky returned at once to
+the exigencies of the moment.
+
+"Then, uncle, dear, let us hurry up. I guess none of us want to be
+caught in a blizzard. Say, Bill, take me to the cloak-room, right
+away."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE BLIZZARD: ITS CONSEQUENCES
+
+
+On the whole, Canada can boast of one of the most perfect health-giving
+climates in the world, despite the two extremes of heat and cold of
+which it is composed. But even so, the Canadian climate is cursed by an
+evil which every now and again breaks loose from the bonds which fetter
+it, and rages from east to west, carrying death and destruction in its
+wake. I speak of the terrible--the raging Blizzard!
+
+To appreciate the panic-like haste with which the Foss River Settlement
+party left the ballroom, one must have lived a winter in the west of
+Canada. The reader who sits snugly by his or her fireside, and who has
+never experienced a Canadian winter, can have no conception of one of
+those dread storms, the very name of which had drawn words of terror
+from one who had lived the greater part of her life in the eastern
+shadow of the Rockies. Hers was no timid, womanly fear for ordinary
+inclemency of weather, but a deep-rooted dread of a life-and-death
+struggle in a merciless storm, than which, in no part of the world, can
+there be found a more fearful. Whence it comes--and why, surely no one
+may say. A meteorological expert may endeavor to account for it, but his
+argument is unconvincing and gains no credence from the dweller on the
+prairies. And why? Because the storm does not come from above--neither
+does it come from a specified direction. And only in the winter does
+such a wind blow. The wind buffets from every direction at once. No snow
+falls from above and yet a blinding gray wall of snow, swept up from the
+white-clothed ground, encompasses the dazed traveller. His arm
+outstretched in daylight and he cannot see the tips of his heavy fur
+mitts. Bitter cold, a hundred times intensified by the merciless force
+of the wind, and he is lost and freezing--slowly freezing to death.
+
+As the sleigh dashed through the outskirts of Calford, on its way to the
+south, there was not much doubt in the minds of any of its occupants as
+to the prospects of the storm. The gusty, patchy wind, the sudden sweeps
+of hissing, cutting snow, as it slithered up in a gray dust in the
+moonlight, and lashed, with stinging force, into their faces, was a sure
+herald of the coming "blizzard."
+
+Bunning-Ford and Jacky occupied the front seat of the sleigh. The former
+was driving the spanking team of blacks of which old "Poker" John was
+justly proud. The sleigh was open, as in Canada all such sleighs are.
+Mrs. Abbot and the doctor sat in a seat with their backs to Jacky and
+her companion, and old John Allandale faced the wind in the back seat,
+alone. Thirty-five miles the horses had to cover before the storm
+thoroughly established itself, and "Lord" Bill was not a slow driver.
+
+The figures of the travellers were hardly distinguishable so enwrapped
+were they in beaver caps, buffalo coats and robes. Jacky, as she sat
+silently beside her companion, might have been taken for an inanimate
+bundle of furs, so lost was she within the ample folds of her buffalo.
+But for the occasional turn of her head, as she measured with her eyes
+the rising of the storm, she gave no sign of life.
+
+"Lord" Bill seemed indifferent. His eyes were fixed upon the road ahead
+and his hands, encased in fur mitts, were on the "lines" with a
+tenacious grip. The horses needed no urging. They were high-mettled and
+cold. The gushing quiver of their nostrils, as they drank in the crisp,
+night air, had a comforting sound for the occupants of the sleigh.
+Weather permitting, those beautiful "blacks" would do the distance in
+under three hours.
+
+The sleigh bells jangled musically in response to the high steps of the
+horses as they sped over the hard, snow-covered trail. They were
+climbing the long slope which was to take them out of the valley
+wherein was Calford situate. Presently Jack's face appeared from amidst
+the folds of the muffler which kept her storm collar fast round her neck
+and ears.
+
+"It's gaining on us, Billy."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+He understood her remark. He knew she referred to the storm. His lips
+were curiously pursed. A knack he had when stirred out of himself.
+
+"We shan't do it."
+
+The girl spoke with conviction.
+
+"No."
+
+"Guess we'd better hit the trail for Norton's. Soldier Joe'll be glad to
+welcome us."
+
+"Lord" Bill did not answer. He merely chirruped at the horses. The
+willing beasts increased their pace and the sleigh sped along with that
+intoxicating smoothness only to be felt when travelling with double
+"bobs" on a perfect trail.
+
+The gray wind of the approaching blizzard was becoming fiercer. The moon
+was already enveloped in a dense haze. The snow was driving like fine
+sand in the faces of the travellers.
+
+"I think we'll give it an hour, Bill. After that I guess it'll be too
+thick," pursued the girl. "What d'you think, can we make Norton's in
+that time--it's a good sixteen miles?"
+
+"I'll put 'em at it," was her companion's curt response.
+
+Neither spoke for a minute. Then "Lord" Bill bent his head suddenly
+forward. The night was getting blacker and it was with difficulty that
+he could keep his eyes from blinking under the lash of the whipping
+snow.
+
+"What is it?" asked Jacky, ever on the alert with the instinct of the
+prairie.
+
+"Some one just ahead of us. The track is badly broken in places. Sit
+tight, I'm going to touch 'em up."
+
+He flicked the whip over the horses' backs, and, a moment later, the
+sleigh was flying along at a dangerous pace. The horses had broken into
+a gallop.
+
+"Lord" Bill seemed to liven up under the influence of speed. The wind
+was howling now, and conversation was impossible, except in short, jerky
+sentences. They were on the high level of the prairie and were getting
+the full benefit of the open sweep of country.
+
+"Cold?" Bill almost shouted.
+
+"No," came the quiet response.
+
+"Straight, down-hill trail. I'm going to let 'em have their heads."
+
+Both of these people knew every inch of the road they were travelling.
+There was no fear in their hearts.
+
+"Put 'em along, then."
+
+The horses raced along. The deadly gray wind had obscured all light. The
+lights of the sleigh alone showed the tracks. It was a wild night and
+every moment it seemed to become worse. Suddenly the man spoke again.
+
+"I wish we hadn't got the others with us, Jacky."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I could put 'em along faster, as it is--" His sentence remained
+unfinished, the sleigh bumped and lifted on to one runner. It was within
+an ace of overturning. There was no need to finish his sentence.
+
+"Yes, I understand, Bill. Don't take too many chances. Ease 'em
+up--some. They're not as young as we are--not the horses. The others."
+
+"Lord" Bill laughed. Jacky was so cool. The word fear was not in her
+vocabulary. This sort of a journey was nothing new to her. She had
+experienced it all before. Possibly, however, her total lack of fear was
+due to her knowledge of the man who, to use her own way of expressing
+things, "was at the business end of the lines." "Lord" Bill was at once
+the finest and the most fearless teamster for miles around. Under the
+cloak of indolent indifference he concealed a spirit of fearlessness and
+even recklessness which few accredited to him.
+
+For some time the two remained silent. The minutes sped rapidly and half
+an hour passed. All about was pitch black now. The wind was tearing and
+shrieking from every direction at once. The sleigh seemed to be the
+center of its attack. The blinding clouds of snow, as they swept up from
+the ground, were becoming denser and denser and offered a fierce
+resistance to the racing horses. Another few minutes and the two people
+on the front seat knew that progress would be impossible. As it was,
+"Lord" Bill was driving more by instinct than by what he could see. The
+trail was obscured, as were all landmarks. He could no longer see the
+horses' heads.
+
+"We've passed the school-house," said Jacky, at last.
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+A strange knowledge or instinct is that of the prairie man or woman.
+Neither had seen the school-house or anything to indicate it. And yet
+they knew they had passed it.
+
+"Half a mile to Trout Creek. Two miles to Norton's. Can you do it,
+Bill?"
+
+Quietly as the words were spoken, there was a world of meaning in the
+question. To lose their way now would be worse, infinitely, than to lose
+oneself in one of the sandy deserts of Africa. Death was in that biting
+wind and in the blinding snow. Once lost, and, in two or three hours,
+all would be over.
+
+"Yes," came the monosyllabic reply. "Lord" Bill's lips were pursed
+tightly. Every now and then he dashed the snow and breath icicles from
+his eyelashes. The horses were almost hidden from his view.
+
+They were descending a steep gradient and they now knew that they were
+upon Trout Creek. At the creek Bill pulled up. It was the first stop
+since leaving Calford. Jacky and he jumped down. Each knew what the
+other was about to do without speaking. Jacky, reins in hand, went round
+the horses; "Lord" Bill was searching for the trail which turned off
+from the main road up the creek to Norton's. Presently he came back.
+
+"Animals all right?"
+
+"Fit as fiddles," the girl replied.
+
+"Right--jump up!"
+
+There was no assisting this girl to her seat. No "by your leave" or
+European politeness. Simply the word of one man who knows his business
+to another. Both were on their "native heath."
+
+Bill checked the horses' impetuosity and walked them slowly until he
+came to the turning. Once on the right road, however, he let them have
+their heads.
+
+"It's all right, Jacky," as the horses bounded forward.
+
+A few minutes later the sleigh drew up at Norton's, but so dark was it
+and so dense the snow fog, that only those two keen watchers on the
+front seat were able to discern the outline of the house.
+
+"Poker" John and the doctor assisted the old lady to alight whilst Jacky
+and "Lord" Bill unhitched the horses. In spite of the cold the sweat was
+pouring from the animals' sides. In answer to a violent summons on the
+storm door a light appeared in the window and "soldier" Joe Norton
+opened the door.
+
+For an instant he stood in the doorway peering doubtfully out into the
+storm. A goodly picture he made as he stood lantern in hand, his rugged
+old face gazing inquiringly at his visitors.
+
+"Hurry up, Joe, let us in," exclaimed Allandale. "We are nearly frozen
+to death."
+
+"Why, bless my soul!--bless my soul! Come in! Come in!" the old man
+exclaimed hastily as he recognized John Allandale's voice. "You out, and
+on a night like this. Bless my soul! Come in! Down, Husky, down!" to a
+bob-tail sheep-dog which bounded forward and barked savagely.
+
+"Hold on, Joe," said "Poker" John. "Let the ladies go in, we must see to
+the horses."
+
+"It's all right, uncle," said Jacky, "we've unhitched 'em. Bill's taken
+'em right away to the stables."
+
+The whole party passed into Joe Norton's sitting-room, where the old
+farmer at once set about kindling, with the aid of some coal-oil, a fire
+in the great box-stove. While his host was busy John took the lantern
+and went to "Lord" Bill's assistance in the stables.
+
+The stove lighted, Joe Norton turned to his guests.
+
+"Bless me, and to think of you, Mrs. Abbot, and Miss Jacky, too. I must
+fetch the o'd 'ooman. Hi, Molly, Molly, bestir yourself, old girl. Come
+on down, an' help the ladies. They've come for shelter out o' the
+blizzard--good luck to it."
+
+"Oh, no, don't disturb her, Joe," exclaimed Mrs. Abbot; "it's really too
+bad, at this unearthly hour. Besides, we shall be quite comfortable here
+by the stove."
+
+"No doubt--no doubt," said the old man, cheerfully, "but that's not my
+way--not my way. Any of you froze," he went on ungrammatically, "'cause
+if so, out you go and thaw it out in the snow."
+
+"I guess there's no one frozen," said Jacky, smiling into the old man's
+face. "We're too old birds for that. Ah, here's Mrs. Norton."
+
+Another warm greeting and the two ladies were hustled off to the only
+spare bedroom the Nortons boasted. By this time "Lord" Bill and "Poker"
+John had returned from the stables. While the ladies were removing their
+furs, which were sodden with the melting snow, the farmer's wife was
+preparing a rough but ample meal of warm provender in the kitchen. Such
+is hospitality in the Far North-West.
+
+When the supper was prepared the travellers sat down to the substantial
+fare. None were hungry--be it remembered that it was three o'clock in
+the morning--but each felt that some pretense in that direction must be
+made, or the kindly couple would think their welcome was insufficient.
+
+"An' what made you venture on the trail on such a night?" asked old
+Norton, as he poured out a joram of hot whiskey for each of the men. "A
+moral cert, you wouldn't strike Foss River in such a storm."
+
+"We thought it would have held off longer," said Dr. Abbot. "It was no
+use getting cooped up in town for two or three days. You know what these
+blizzards are. You may have to do with us yourself during the next
+forty-eight hours."
+
+"It's too sharp to last, Doc," put in Jacky, as she helped herself to
+some soup. Her face was glowing after her exposure to the elements. She
+looked very beautiful and not one whit worse for the drive.
+
+"Sharp enough--sharp enough," murmured old Norton, as if for something
+to say.
+
+"Sharp enough to bring some one else to your hospitable abode, Joe,"
+interrupted "Lord" Bill, quietly; "I hear sleigh bells. The wind's
+howling, but their tone is familiar."
+
+They were all listening now. "Poker" John was the first to speak.
+
+"It's--" and he paused.
+
+Before he could complete his sentence Jacky filled up the missing words.
+
+"Lablache--for a dollar."
+
+There was a moment's silence in that rough homely little kitchen. The
+expression of the faces of those around the board indexed a general
+thought.
+
+Lablache, if it were he, would not receive the cordial welcome which had
+been meted out to the others. Norton broke the silence.
+
+"Dang it! That's what I ses, dang it! You'll pardon me, ladies, but my
+feelings get the better of me at times. I don't like him. Lablache--I
+hates him," and he strode out of the room, his old face aflame with
+annoyance, to discharge the hospitable duties of the prairie.
+
+As the door closed behind him Dr. Abbot laughed constrainedly.
+
+"Lablache doesn't seem popular--here."
+
+No one answered his remark. Then "Poker" John looked over at the other
+men.
+
+"We must go and help to put his horses away."
+
+There was no suggestion in his words, merely a statement of plain facts.
+"Lord" Bill nodded and the three men rose and went to the door.
+
+As they disappeared Jacky turned to Mrs. Norton and Aunt Margaret.
+
+"If that's Lablache--I'm off to bed."
+
+Her tone was one of uncompromising decision. Mrs. Abbot was less
+assured.
+
+"Do you think it polite--wise?"
+
+"Come along, aunt. Never mind about politeness or wisdom. What do you
+say, Mrs. Norton?"
+
+"As you like, Miss Jacky. I must stay up, or--"
+
+"Yes--the men can entertain him."
+
+Just then Lablache's voice was heard outside. It was a peculiar,
+guttural, gasping voice. Aunt Margaret looked doubtfully from Jacky to
+Mrs. Norton. The latter nodded smilingly. Then following Jacky's lead
+she passed up the staircase which led from the kitchen to the rooms
+above. A moment later the door opened and Lablache and the other men
+entered.
+
+"They've gone to bed," said Mrs. Norton, in answer to "Poker" John's
+look of inquiry.
+
+"Tired, no doubt," put in Lablache, drily.
+
+"And not without reason, I guess," retorted "Poker" John, sharply. He
+had not failed to note the other's tone.
+
+Lablache laughed quietly, but his keen, restless eyes shot an unpleasant
+glance at the speaker from beneath their heavy lids.
+
+He was a burly man. In bulk he was of much the same proportions as old
+John Allandale. But while John was big with the weight of muscle and
+frame, Lablache was flabby with fat. In face he was the antithesis of
+the other. Whilst "Poker" John was the picture of florid tanning--While
+his face, although perhaps a trifle weak in its lower formation, was
+bold, honest, and redounding with kindly nature, Lablache's was
+bilious-looking and heavy with obesity. Whatever character was there, it
+was lost in the heavy folds of flesh with which it was wreathed. His
+jowl was ponderous, and his little mouth was tightly compressed, while
+his deep-sunken, bilious eyes peered from between heavy, lashless lids.
+
+Such was Verner Lablache, the wealthiest man of the Foss River
+Settlement. He owned a large store in the place, selling farming
+machinery to the settlers and ranchers about. His business was always
+done on credit, for which he charged exorbitant rates of interest,
+accepting only first mortgages upon crops and stock as security. Besides
+this he represented several of the Calford private banks, which many
+people said were really owned by him, and there was no one more ready to
+lend money--on the best of security and the highest rate of
+interest--than he. Should the borrower fail to pay, he was always
+suavely ready to renew the loan at increased interest--provided the
+security was sound. And, in the end, every ounce of his pound of flesh,
+plus not less than fifty per cent. interest, would come back to him.
+After Verner Lablache had done with him, the unfortunate rancher who
+borrowed generally disappeared from the neighborhood. Sometimes this
+man's victims were never heard of again. Sometimes they were discovered
+doing the "chores" round some obscure farmer's house. Anyway, ranch,
+crops, stock--everything the man ever had--would have passed into the
+hands of the money-lender, Lablache.
+
+Hard-headed dealer--money-grubber--as Lablache was, he had a weakness.
+To look at him--to know him--no one would have thought it, but he had.
+And at least two of those present were aware of his secret. He was in
+love with Jacky. That is to say, he coveted her--desired her. When
+Lablache desired anything in that little world of his, he generally
+secured it to himself, but, in this matter, he had hitherto been
+thwarted. His desire had increased proportionately. He was annoyed to
+think that Jacky had retired at his coming. He was in no way blind to
+the reason of her sudden departure, but beyond his first remark he was
+not the man to advertise his chagrin. He could afford to wait.
+
+"You'll take a bite o' supper, Mr. Lablache?" said old Norton, in a tone
+of inquiry.
+
+"Supper?--no, thanks, Norton. But if you've a drop of something hot I
+can do with that."
+
+"We've gener'ly got somethin' o' that about," replied the old man.
+"Whiskey or rum?"
+
+"Whisky, man, whisky. I've got liver enough already without touching
+rum." Then he turned to "Poker" John.
+
+"It's a devilish night, John, devilish. I started before you. Thought I
+could make the river in time. I was completely lost on the other side of
+the creek. I fancy the storm worked up from that direction."
+
+He lumped into a chair close beside the stove. The others had already
+seated themselves.
+
+"We didn't chance it. Bill drove us straight here," said "Poker" John.
+
+"Guess Bill knew something--he generally does," as an afterthought.
+
+"I know a blizzard when I see it," said Bunning-Ford, indifferently.
+
+Lablache sipped his whisky. A silence fell on that gathering of
+refugees. Mrs. Norton had cleared the supper things.
+
+"Well, if you gents'll excuse me I'll go back to bed. Old Joe'll look
+after you," she said abruptly. "Good-night to you all."
+
+She disappeared up the staircase. The men remained silent for a moment
+or two. They were getting drowsy. Suddenly Lablache set his glass down
+and looked at his watch.
+
+"Four o'clock, gentlemen. I suppose, Joe, there are no beds for us." The
+old farmer shook his head. "What say, John--Doc--a little game until
+breakfast?"
+
+John Allandale's face lit up. His sobriquet was no idle One. He lived
+for poker--he loved it. And Lablache knew it. Old John turned to the
+others. His right cheek twitched as he waited the decision. "Doc" Abbot
+smiled approval; "Lord" Bill shrugged indifferently. The old gambler
+rose to his feet.
+
+"That's all right, then. The kitchen table is good enough for us. Come
+along, gentlemen."
+
+"I'll slide off to bed, I guess," said Norton, thankful to escape a
+night's vigil. "Good-night, gentlemen."
+
+Then the remaining four sat down to play.
+
+The far-reaching consequences of that game were undreamt of by the
+players, except, perhaps, by Lablache. His story of the reason of his
+return to Norton's farm was only partially true. He had returned in the
+hopes of this meeting; he had anticipated this game.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A BIG GAME OF POKER
+
+
+"What about cards?" said Lablache, as the four men sat down to the
+table.
+
+"Doc will oblige, no doubt," Bunning-Ford replied quietly. "He generally
+carries the 'pernicious pasteboards' about with him."
+
+"The man who travels in the West without them," said Dr. Abbot,
+producing a couple of new packs from his pocket, "either does not know
+his country or is a victim of superstition."
+
+No one seemed inclined to refuse the doctor's statement, or enter into a
+discussion upon the matter. Instead, each drew out a small memorandum
+block and pencil--a sure indication of a "big game."
+
+"Limit?" asked the doctor.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders, affectionately shuffling the cards the
+while. He kept his eyes averted.
+
+"What do the others say?"
+
+There was a challenge in Lablache's tone. Bunning-Ford flushed slightly
+at the cheek-bones. That peculiar pursing was at his lips.
+
+"Anything goes with me. The higher the game the greater the excitement,"
+he said, shooting a keen glance at the pasty face of the money-lender.
+
+Old John was irritated. His ruddy face gleamed in the light of the lamp.
+The nervous twitching of the cheek indicated his frame of mind. Lablache
+smiled to himself behind the wood expression of his face.
+
+"Twenty dollars call for fifty. Limit the bet to three thousand
+dollars. Is that big enough for you, Lablache? Let us have a regulation
+'ante.' No 'straddling.'"
+
+There was a moment's silence. "Poker" John had proposed the biggest game
+they had yet played. He would have suggested no limit, but this he knew
+would be all in favor of Lablache, whose resources were vast.
+
+John glanced over from the money-lender to the doctor. The doctor and
+Bunning-Ford were the most to be considered. Their resources were very
+limited. The old man knew that the doctor was one of those careful
+players who was not likely to allow himself to suffer by the height of
+the stakes. There was no bluffing the doctor. "Lord" Bill was able to
+take care of himself.
+
+"That's good enough for me," said Bunning-Ford. "Let it go at that."
+
+Outwardly Lablache was indifferent; inwardly he experienced a sense of
+supreme satisfaction at the height of the stakes.
+
+The four men relapsed into silence as they cut for the deal. It was an
+education in the game to observe each man as he, metaphorically
+speaking, donned his mask of impassive reserve. As the game progressed
+any one of those four men might have been a graven image as far as the
+expression of countenance went. No word was spoken beyond "Raise you so
+and so"--"See you that." So keen, so ardent was the game that the stake
+might have been one of life and death. No money passed. Just slips of
+paper; and yet any one of those fragments represented a small fortune.
+
+The first few hands resulted in but desultory betting. Sums of money
+changed hands but there was very little in it. Lablache was the
+principal loser. Three "pots" in succession were taken by John
+Allandale, but their aggregate did not amount to half the limit. A
+little luck fell to Bunning-Ford. He once raised Lablache to the limit.
+The money-lender "saw" him and lost. Bill promptly scooped in three
+thousand dollars. The doctor was cautious. He had lost and won nothing.
+Then a change came over the game. To use a card-player's expression, the
+cards were beginning to "run."
+
+"Lord" Bill dealt. Lablache was upon his right and next to him the
+doctor.
+
+The money-lender picked up his cards, and partially opening them glanced
+keenly at the index numerals. His stolid face remained unchanged. The
+doctor glanced at his and "came in." "Poker" John "came in." The dealer
+remained out. The doctor drew two cards; "Poker" John, one; Lablache
+drew one. The veteran rancher held four nines. "Lord" Bill gathered up
+the "deadwood," and, propping his face upon his hands, watched the
+betting.
+
+It was the doctor's bet; he cautiously dropped out. He had an inkling of
+the way things were going. "Poker" John opened the ball with five
+hundred dollars. He had a good thing and he did not want to frighten his
+opponent by a plunge. He would leave it to Lablache to start raising.
+The money-lender raised him one thousand. Old John sniffed with the
+appreciation of an old war-horse at the scent of battle. The nervous,
+twitching cheek remained unmoved. The old gambler in him rose uppermost.
+
+He leisurely saw the thousand, and raised another five hundred. Lablache
+allowed his fishy eyes to flash in the direction of his opponent. A
+moment after he raised another thousand. The gamble was becoming
+interesting. The two onlookers were consumed with the lust of play. They
+forgot that in the result they would not be participants. Old John's
+face lost something of its impassivity as he in turn raised to the
+limit. Lablache eased his great body in his chair. His little mouth was
+very tightly clenched. His breathing, at times stertorous, was like the
+breathing of an asthmatical pig. He saw, and again raised to the limit.
+There was now over twelve thousand dollars in the pool.
+
+It was old John's turn. The doctor and "Lord" Bill waited anxiously. The
+old rancher was reputed very wealthy. They felt assured that he would
+not back down after having gone so far. In their hearts they both wished
+to see him relieve Lablache of a lot of money.
+
+They need have had no fears. Whatever his faults "Poker" John was a
+"dead game sport." He dashed a slip of paper into the pool. The keen
+eyes watching read "four thousand dollars" scrawled upon it. He had
+again raised to the limit. It was now Lablache's turn to accept or
+refuse the challenge. The onlookers were not so sure of the
+money-lender. Would he accept or not?
+
+A curious thought was in the mind of that monument of flesh. He knew for
+certain that he held the winning cards. How he knew it would be
+impossible to say. And yet he hesitated. Perhaps he knew the limits of
+John Allandale's resources, perhaps he felt, for the present, there was
+sufficient in the pool; perhaps, even, he had ulterior motives. Whatever
+the cause, as he passed a slip of paper into the pool merely seeing his
+opponent, his face gave no outward sign of what was passing in the brain
+behind it.
+
+Old John laid down his hand.
+
+"Four nines," he said quietly.
+
+"Not good enough," retorted Lablache; "four kings." And he spread his
+cards out upon the table before him and swept up the pile of papers
+which represented his win.
+
+A sigh, as of relief to pent-up feelings, escaped the two men who had
+watched the gamble. Old John said not a word and his face betrayed no
+thought or regret that might have been in his mind at the loss of such a
+large amount of money. He merely glanced over at the money-lender.
+
+"Your deal, Lablache," he said quietly.
+
+Lablache took the cards and a fresh deal went round. Now the game became
+one-sided. With that one large pull the money-lender's luck seemed to
+have set in. Seemingly he could do no wrong. If he drew to "three of a
+kind," he invariably filled; if to a "pair," he generally secured a
+third; once, indeed, he drew to jack, queen, king of a suit and
+completed a "royal flush." His luck was phenomenal. The other men's
+luck seemed "dead out." Bunning-Ford and the doctor could get no hands
+at all, and thus they were saved heavy losses. Occasionally, even, the
+doctor raked in a few "antes." But John Allandale could do nothing
+right. He was always drawing tolerable cards--just good enough to lose
+with. Until, by the time daylight came, he had lost so heavily that his
+two friends were eagerly seeking an excuse to break up the game.
+
+At last "Lord" Bill effected this purpose, but at considerable loss to
+himself. He had a fairly good hand, but not, as he knew, sufficiently
+good to win with. Lablache and he were left in. The money-lender had in
+one plunge raised the bet to the "limit." Bill knew that he ought to
+drop out, but, instead of so doing, he saw his opponent. He lost the
+"pot."
+
+"Thank you, gentlemen," he said, quietly rising from the table, "my
+losses are sufficient for one night. I have finished. It is daylight and
+the storm is 'letting up' somewhat."
+
+He turned as he spoke, and, glancing at the staircase, saw Jacky
+standing at the top of it. How long she had been standing there he did
+not know. He felt certain, although she gave no sign, that she had heard
+what he had just said.
+
+"Poker" John saw her too.
+
+"Why, Jacky, what means this early rising?" said the old man kindly.
+"Too tired last night to sleep?"
+
+"No, uncle. Guess I slept all right. The wind's dropping fast. I take it
+it'll be blowing great guns again before long. This is our chance to
+make the ranch." She had been an observer of the finish of the game. She
+had heard Bill's remarks on his loss, and yet not by a single word did
+she betray her knowledge. Inwardly she railed at herself for having gone
+to bed. She wondered how it had fared with her uncle.
+
+Bunning-Ford left the room. Somehow he felt that he must get away from
+the steady gaze of those gray eyes. He knew how Jacky dreaded, for her
+uncle's sake, the game they had just been playing. He wondered, as he
+went to test the weather, what she would have thought had she known the
+stakes, or the extent of her uncle's losses. He hoped she was not aware
+of these facts.
+
+"You look tired, Uncle John," said the girl, solicitously, as she came
+down the stairs. She purposely ignored Lablache. "Have you had no
+sleep?"
+
+"Poker" John laughed a little uneasily.
+
+"Sleep, child? We old birds of the prairie can do with very little of
+that. It's only pretty faces that want sleep, and I'm thinking you ought
+still to be in your bed."
+
+"Miss Jacky is ever on the alert to take advantage of the elements," put
+in Lablache, heavily. "She seems to understand these things better than
+any of us."
+
+The girl was forced to notice the money-lender. She did so reluctantly,
+however.
+
+"So you, too, sought shelter from the storm beneath old man Norton's
+hospitable roof. You are dead right, Mr. Lablache; we who live on the
+prairie need to be ever on the alert. One never knows what each hour may
+bring forth."
+
+The girl was still in her ball-dress. Lablache's fishy eyes noticed her
+charming appearance. The strong, beautiful face sent a thrill of delight
+over him as he watched it--the delicate rounded shoulders made him suck
+in his heavy breath like one who anticipates a delicate dish. Jacky
+turned from him in plainly-expressed disgust.
+
+Her uncle was watching her with a gaze half uneasy and wholly tender.
+She was the delight of his old age, the center of all his affections,
+this motherless child of his dead brother. His cheek twitched painfully
+as he thought of the huge amount of his losings to Lablache. He shivered
+perceptibly as he rose from his seat and went over to the cooking stove.
+
+"I believe you people have let the stove out," the girl exclaimed, as
+she noted her uncle's movement. She had no intention of mentioning the
+game they had been playing. She feared to hear the facts. Instinct told
+her that her uncle had lost again. "Yes, I declare you have," as she
+knelt before the grate and raked away at the ashes.
+
+Suddenly she turned to the money-lender.
+
+"Here, you, fetch me some wood and coal-oil. Men can never be trusted."
+
+Jacky was no respecter of persons. When she ordered there were few men
+on the prairie who would refuse to obey. Lablache heaved his great bulk
+from before the table and got on to his feet. His bilious eyes were
+struggling to smile. The effect was horrible. Then he moved across the
+room to where a stack of kindling stood.
+
+"Hurry up. I guess if we depended much on you we'd freeze."
+
+And Lablache, the hardest, most unscrupulous man for miles around,
+endeavored to obey with the alacrity of any sheep-dog.
+
+In spite of himself John Allandale could not refrain from smiling at the
+grotesque picture the monumental Lablache made as he lumbered towards
+the stack of kindling.
+
+When "Lord" Bill returned Lablache was bending over the stove beside the
+girl.
+
+"I've thrown the harness on the horses--watered and fed 'em," he said,
+taking in the situation at a glance. "Say, Doc," turning to Abbot,
+"better rouse your good lady."
+
+"She'll be down in a tick," said Jacky, over her shoulder. "Here,
+doctor, you might get a kettle of water--and Bill, see if you can find
+some bacon or stuff. And you, uncle, came and sit by the stove--you're
+cold."
+
+Strange is the power and fascination of woman. A look--a glance--a
+simple word and we men hasten to minister to her requirements. Half an
+hour ago and all these men were playing for fortunes--dealing in
+thousands of dollars on the turn of a card, the passion for besting his
+neighbor uppermost in each man's mind. Now they were humbly doing one
+girl's bidding with a zest unsurpassed by the devotion to their recent
+gamble.
+
+She treated them indiscriminately. Old or young, there was no
+difference. Bunning-Ford she liked--Dr. Abbot she liked--Lablache she
+hated and despised, still she allotted them their tasks with perfect
+impartiality. Only her old uncle she treated differently. That dear,
+degenerate old man she loved with an affection which knew no bounds. He
+was her all in the world. Whatever his sins--whatever his faults, she
+loved him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH
+
+
+Spring is already upon the prairie. The fur coat has already been
+exchanged for the pea-jacket. No longer is the fur cap crushed down upon
+the head and drawn over the ears until little more than the oval of the
+face is exposed to the elements; it is still worn occasionally, but now
+it rests upon the head with the jaunty cant of an ordinary headgear.
+
+The rough coated broncho no longer stands "tucked up" with the cold,
+with its hind-quarters towards the wind. Now he stands grazing on the
+patches of grass which the melting snow has placed at his disposal. The
+cattle, too, hurry to and fro as each day extends their field of fodder.
+When spring sets in in the great North-West it is with no show of
+reluctance that grim winter yields its claims and makes way for its
+gracious and all-conquering foe. Spring is upon everything with all the
+characteristic suddenness of the Canadian climate. A week--a little
+seven days--and where all before had been cheerless wastes of snow and
+ice, we have the promise of summer with us. The snow disappears as with
+the sweep of a "chinook" in winter. The brown, saturated grass is tinged
+with the bright emerald hue of new-born pasture. The bared trees don
+that yellowish tinge which tells of breaking leaves. Rivers begin to
+flow. Their icy coatings, melting in the growing warmth of the sun,
+quickly returning once more to their natural element.
+
+With the advent of spring comes a rush of duties to those whose interest
+are centered in the breeding of cattle. The Foss River Settlement is
+already teeming with life. For the settlement is the center of the great
+spring "round-up." Here are assembling the "cow-punchers" from all the
+outlying ranches, gathering under the command of a captain (generally a
+man elected for his vast experience on the prairie) and making their
+preparations to scour the prairie east and west, north and south, to the
+very limits of the far-reaching plains which spread their rolling
+pastures at the eastern base of the Rockies. Every head of cattle which
+is found will be brought into the Foss River Settlement and thence will
+be distributed to its lawful owners. This is but the beginning of the
+work, for the task of branding calves and re-branding cattle whose
+brands have become obscured during the long winter months is a process
+of no small magnitude for those who number their stocks by tens of
+thousands.
+
+At John Allandale's ranch all is orderly bustle. There is no confusion.
+Under Jacky's administration the work goes on with a simple directness
+which would astonish the uninitiated. There are the corrals to repair
+and to be put in order. Sheds and out-buildings to be whitewashed.
+Branding apparatus to be set in working order, fencing to be repaired,
+preparations for seeding to commence; a thousand and one things to be
+seen to; and all of which must be finished before the first "bands" of
+cattle are rounded up into the settlement.
+
+It is nearly a month since we saw this daughter of the prairie garbed in
+the latest mode, attending the Polo Ball at Calford, and widely
+different is her appearance now from what it was at the time of our
+introduction to her.
+
+She is returning from an inspection of the wire fencing of the home
+pastures. She is riding her favorite horse, Nigger, up the gentle slope
+which leads to her uncle's house. There is nothing of the woman of
+fashion about her now--and, perhaps, it is a matter not to be regretted.
+
+She sits her horse with the easy grace of a childhood's experience. Her
+habit, if such it can be called, is a "dungaree" skirt of a hardly
+recognizable blue, so washed out is it, surmounted by a beautifully
+beaded buckskin shirt. Loosely encircling her waist, and resting upon
+her hips, is a cartridge belt, upon which is slung the holster of a
+heavy revolver, a weapon without which she never moves abroad. Her head
+is crowned by a Stetson hat, secured in true prairie fashion by a strap
+which passes under her hair at the back, while her beautiful hair itself
+falls in heavy ringlets over her shoulders, and waves untrammelled in
+the fresh spring breeze as her somewhat unruly charger gallops up the
+hill towards the ranch.
+
+The great black horse was heading for the stable. Jacky leant over to
+one side and swung him sharply towards the house. At the veranda she
+pulled him up short. High mettled, headstrong as the animal was, he knew
+his mistress. Tricks which he would often attempt to practice upon other
+people were useless here--doubtless she had taught him that such was the
+case.
+
+The girl sprang, unaided, to the ground and hitched her picket rope to a
+tying-post. For a moment she stood on the great veranda which ran down
+the whole length of the house front. It was a one-storied,
+bungalow-shaped house, built with a high pitch to the roof and entirely
+constructed of the finest red pine-wood. Six French windows opened on to
+the veranda. The outlook was westerly, and, contrary to the usual
+custom, the ranch buildings were not overlooked by it. The corrals and
+stables were in the background.
+
+She was about to turn in at one of the windows when she suddenly
+observed Nigger's ears cocked, and his head turned away towards the
+shimmering peaks of the distant mountains. The movement fixed her
+attention instantly. It was the instinct of one who lives in a country
+where the eyes and ears of a horse are often keener and more
+far-reaching than those of its human masters. The horse was gazing with
+statuesque fixedness across a waste of partially-melted snow. A stretch
+of ten miles lay flat and smooth as a billiard-table at the foot of the
+rise upon which the house was built. And far out across this the beast
+was gazing.
+
+Jacky shaded her eyes with her hand and followed the direction of the
+horse's gaze. For a moment or two she saw nothing but the dazzling glare
+of the snow in the bright spring sunlight. Then her eyes became
+accustomed to the brilliancy, and far in the distance, she beheld an
+animal peacefully moving along from patch to patch of bare grass,
+evidently in search of fodder.
+
+"A horse," she muttered, under her breath. "Whose?"
+
+She could find no answer to her monosyllabic inquiry. She realized at
+once that to whomsoever it belonged its owner would never recover it,
+for it was grazing on the far side of the great "Muskeg," that mighty
+bottomless mire which extends for forty miles north and south and whose
+narrowest breadth is a span of ten miles. She was looking across it now,
+and innocent enough that level plain of terror appeared at that moment.
+And yet it was the curse of the ranching district, for, annually,
+hundreds of cattle met an untimely death in its cruel, absorbing bosom.
+
+She turned away for the purpose of fetching a pair of field-glasses. She
+was anxious to identify the horse. She passed along the veranda
+towards the furthest window. It was the window of her uncle's office.
+Just as she was nearing it she heard the sound of voices coming from
+within. She paused, and an ominous pucker drew her brows together. Her
+beautiful dark face clouded. She had no wish to play the part of an
+eavesdropper, but she had recognized the voices of her uncle and
+Lablache. She had also heard the mention of her own name. What woman,
+or, for that matter, man, can refrain from listening when they hear two
+people talking about them. The window was open; Jacky paused--and
+listened.
+
+Lablache's thick voice lolled heavily upon the brisk air.
+
+"She is a good girl. But don't you think you are considering her future
+from a rather selfish point of view, John?"
+
+"Selfish?" The old man laughed in his hearty manner "Maybe you're right,
+though. I never thought of that. You see I'm getting old now. I can't
+get around like I used to. Bless me, she's two-an'-twenty.
+Three-and-twenty years since my brother Dick--God rest his
+soul!--married that half-breed girl, Josie. Yes, I guess you're right,
+she's bound to marry soon."
+
+Jacky smiled a curious dark smile. Something told her why Lablache and
+her uncle were discussing her future.
+
+"Why, of course she is," said Lablache, "and when that happy event is
+accomplished I hope it will not be with any improvident--harum-scarum
+man like--like--"
+
+"The Hon. Bunning-Ford I suppose you would say, eh?"
+
+There was a somewhat sharp tone in the old man's voice which Jacky was
+not slow to detect.
+
+"Well," went on Lablache, with one of those deep whistling breaths which
+made him so like an ancient pug, "since you mention him, for want of a
+better specimen of improvidence, his name will do."
+
+"So I thought--so I thought," laughed the old man. But his words rang
+strangely. "Most people think," he went on, "that when I die Jacky will
+be rich. But she won't."
+
+"No," replied Lablache, emphatically.
+
+There was a world of meaning in his tone.
+
+"However, I guess we can let her hunt around for herself when she wants
+a husband. Jacky's a girl with a head. A sight better head than I've got
+on my old shoulders. When she chooses a husband, and comes and tells me
+of it, she shall have my blessing and anything else I have to give. I'm
+not going to interfere with that girl's matrimonial affairs, sir, not
+for any one. That child, bless her heart, is like my own child to me. If
+she wants the moon, and there's nothing else to stop her having it but
+my consent, why, I guess that moon's as good as fenced in with
+triple-barbed wire an' registered in her name in the Government Land
+Office."
+
+"And in the meantime you are going to make that same child work for her
+daily bread like any 'hired man,' and keep company with any scoun--"
+
+"Hi, stop there, Lablache! Stop there," thundered "Poker" John, and
+Jacky heard a thud as of a fist falling upon the table. "You've taken
+the unwarrantable liberty of poking your nose into my affairs, and,
+because of our old acquaintance, I have allowed it. But now let me tell
+you this is no d----d business of yours. There's no make with Jacky.
+What she does, she does of her own accord."
+
+At that moment the girl in question walked abruptly in from the veranda.
+She had heard enough.
+
+"Ah, uncle," she said, smiling tenderly up into the old man's face,
+"talking of me, I guess. You shouted my name just as I was coming along.
+Say, I want the field-glasses. Where are they?"
+
+Then she turned on Lablache as if she had only just become aware of his
+presence.
+
+"What, Mr. Lablache, you here? And so early, too. Guess this isn't like
+you. How is your store--that temple of wealth and high interest--to get
+on without you? How are the 'improvident'--'harum-scarums' to live if
+you are not present to minister to their wants--upon the best of
+security?" Without waiting for a reply the girl picked up the glasses
+she was in search of and darted out, leaving Lablache glaring his
+bilious-eyed rage after her.
+
+"Poker" John stood for a moment a picture of blank surprise; then he
+burst into a loud guffaw at the discomfited money-lender. Jacky heard
+the laugh and smiled. Then she passed out of earshot and concentrated
+her attention upon the distant speck of animal life.
+
+The girl stood for some moments surveying the creature as it moved
+leisurely along, its nose well down amongst the roots of the tawny
+grass, seeking out the tender green shoots of the new-born pasture. Then
+she closed her glasses and her thoughts wandered to other matters.
+
+The gorgeous landscape was, for a moment, utterly lost upon her. The
+snowy peaks of the Rockies, stretching far as the eye could see away to
+the north and south, like some giant fortification set up to defend the
+rolling pastures of the prairies from the ceaseless attack of the stormy
+Pacific Ocean, were far from her thoughts. Her eyes, it is true, were
+resting on the level flat of the muskeg, beyond the grove of slender
+pines which lined the approach to the house, but she was not thinking of
+that. No, recollection was struggling back through two years of a busy
+life, to a time when, for a brief space, she had watched over the
+welfare of another than her uncle, when the dark native blood which
+flowed plentifully in her veins had asserted itself, and a nature which
+was hers had refused to remain buried beneath a superficial European
+training. She was thinking of a man who had formed a secret part of her
+life for a few short years, when she had allowed her heart to dictate a
+course for her actions which no other motive but that of love could have
+brought about. She was thinking of Peter Retief, a pretty scoundrel, a
+renowned "bad man," a man of wild and reckless daring. He had been the
+terror of the countryside. A cattle-thief who feared neither man nor
+devil; a man who for twelve months and more had carried, his life in his
+hands, the sworn enemy of law and order, but who, in his worst moments,
+had never been known to injure a poor man or a woman. The wild blood of
+the half-breed that was in her had been stirred, as only a woman's blood
+can be, by his reckless dealings, his courage, effrontery, and withal
+his wondrous kindliness of disposition. She was thinking of this man
+now, this man whom she knew to be numbered amongst the countless victims
+of that dreadful mire. And what had conjured this thought? A horse--a
+horse peacefully grazing far out across the mire in the direction of the
+distant hills which she knew had once been this desperado's home.
+
+Her train of recollection suddenly became broken, and a sigh escaped her
+as the sound of her uncle's voice fell upon her ears. She did not move,
+however, for she knew that Lablache was with him, and this man she hated
+with the fiery hatred only to be found in the half-breeds of any native
+race.
+
+"I'm sorry, John, we can't agree on the point," Lablache was saying in
+his wheezy voice, as the two men stood at the other end of the veranda,
+"but I'm quite determined Upon the matter myself. The land intersects
+mine and cuts me clean off from the railway siding, and I am forced to
+take my cattle a circle of nearly fifteen miles to ship them. If he
+would only be reasonable and allow a passage I would say nothing. I will
+force him to sell."
+
+"If you can," put in the rancher. "I reckon you've got chilled steel to
+deal with when you endeavor to 'force' old Joe Norton to sell the finest
+wheat land in the country."
+
+At this point in the conversation three men came round from the back of
+the house. They were "cow" hands belonging to the ranch. They approached
+Jacky with the easy assurance of men who were as much companions as
+servants of their mistress. All three, however, touched their
+wide-brimmed hats in unmistakable respect. They were clad in buckskin
+shirts and leather "chaps," and each had his revolver upon his hip. The
+girl lost the rest of the conversation between her uncle and Lablache,
+for her attention was turned to the men.
+
+"Well?" she asked shortly, as the men stood before her.
+
+One of the men, a tall, lank specimen of the dark-skinned prairie
+half-breed, acted as spokesman.
+
+He ejected a squirt of tobacco juice from his great, dirty mouth before
+he spoke. Then with a curious backward jerk of the head he blurted out a
+stream of Western jargon.
+
+"Say, missie," he exclaimed in a high-pitched nasal voice, "it ain't no
+use in talkin', ye kent put no tenderfoot t' boss the round-up. There's
+them all-fired Donoghue lot jest sent right in t' say, 'cause, I s'pose,
+they reckon as they're the high muck-i-muck o' this location, that that
+tarnation Sim Lory, thar head man, is to cap' the round-up. Why, he
+ain't cast a blamed foot on the prairie sence he's been hyar. An' I'll
+swear he don't know the horn o' his saddle from a monkey stick. Et ain't
+right, missie, an' us fellers t' work under him an' all."
+
+His address came to an abrupt end, and he gave emphasis to his words by
+a prolonged expectoration. Jacky, her eyes sparkling with anger, was
+quick to reply.
+
+"Look you here, Silas, just go right off and throw your saddle on your
+pony--"
+
+"Guess it's right thar, missie," the man interrupted.
+
+"Then sling off as fast as your plug can lay foot to the ground, and
+give John Allandale's compliments to Jim Donoghue and say, if they don't
+send a capable man, since they've been appointed to find the 'captain,'
+he'll complain to the Association and insist on the penalty being
+enforced. What, do they take us for a lot of 'gophers'? Sim Lory,
+indeed; why, he's not fit to prise weeds with a two tine hay fork."
+
+The men went off hurriedly. Their mistress's swift methods of dealing
+with matters pleased them. Silas was more than pleased to be able to get
+a "slant" (to use his own expression) at his old enemy, Sim Lory. As the
+men departed "Poker" John came and stood beside his niece.
+
+"What's that about Sim Lory, Jacky?"
+
+"They've sent him to run this 'round-up.'"
+
+"And?"
+
+"Oh, I just told them it wouldn't do," indifferently.
+
+Old John smiled.
+
+"In those words?"
+
+"Well, no, uncle," the girl said with a responsive smile. "But they
+needed a 'jinning' up. I sent the message in your name."
+
+The old man shook his head, but his indulgent smile remained.
+
+"You'll be getting me into serious trouble with that impetuosity of
+yours, Jacky," he said absently. "But there--I daresay you know best."
+
+His words were characteristic of him. He left the entire control of the
+ranch to this girl of two-and-twenty, relying implicitly upon her
+judgment in all things. It was a strange thing to do, for he was still a
+vigorous man. To look at him was to make oneself wonder at the reason.
+But the girl accepted the responsibility without question. There was a
+subtle sympathy between uncle and niece. Sometimes Jacky would gaze up
+into his handsome old face and something in the twitching cheek, the
+curiously-shaped mouth, hidden beneath the gray mustache, would cause
+her to turn away with a sigh, and, with stimulated resolution, hurl
+herself into the arduous labors of managing the ranch. What she read in
+that dear, honest face she loved so well she kept locked in her own
+secret heart, and never, by word or act, did she allow herself to betray
+it. She was absolute mistress of the Foss River Ranch and she knew it.
+Old "Poker" John, like the morphine "fiend," merely continued to keep up
+his reputation and the more fully deserve his sobriquet. His mind, his
+character, his whole being was being slowly but surely absorbed in the
+lust of gambling.
+
+The girl laid her hand upon the old man's arm.
+
+"Uncle--what was Lablache talking to you about? I mean when I came for
+the field-glasses."
+
+"Poker" John was gazing abstractedly into the dense growth of pines
+which fringed the house. He pulled himself together, but his eyes had in
+them a far-away look.
+
+"Many things," he replied evasively.
+
+"Yes, I know, dear, but," bending her face while she removed one of her
+buckskin gauntlets from her hand, "I mean about me. You two
+were-discussing me, I know."
+
+She turned her keen gray eyes upon her relative as she finished
+speaking. The old man turned away. He felt that those eyes were reading
+his very soul. They made him uncomfortable.
+
+"Oh, he said I ought not to let you associate with certain people."
+
+"Why?" The sharp question came with the directness of a pistol-shot.
+
+"Well, he seemed to think that you might think of marrying."
+
+"Ah, and--"
+
+"He seemed to fancy that you, being impetuous, might make a mistake and
+fall--"
+
+"In love with the wrong man. Yes, I understand; and from his point of
+view, if ever I do marry it will undoubtedly be the wrong man."
+
+And the girl finished up with a mirthless laugh.
+
+They stood for some moments in silence. They were both thinking. The
+noise from the corrals behind the house reached them. The steady drip,
+drip of the water from the melting snow upon the roof of the house
+sounded loudly as it fell on the sodden ground beneath.
+
+"Uncle, did it ever strike you that that greasy money-lender wants to
+marry me himself?"
+
+The question startled John Allandale more than anything else could have
+done. He turned sharply round and faced his niece.
+
+"Marry you, Jacky?" he repeated. "I never thought of it."
+
+"It isn't to be supposed that you would have done so."
+
+There was the faintest tinge of bitterness in the girl's answer.
+
+"And do you really think that he wants to marry you?"
+
+"I don't know quite. Perhaps I am wrong, uncle, and my imagination has
+run away with me. Yes, I sometimes think he wants to marry me."
+
+They both relapsed into silence. Then her uncle spoke again.
+
+"Jacky, what you have just said has made something plain to me which I
+could not understand before. He came and gave me--unsolicited, mind--"a
+little eagerly, "a detailed account of Bunning-Ford's circumstances,
+and--"
+
+"Endeavored to bully you into sending him about his business. Poor old
+Bill! And what was his account of him?"
+
+The girl's eyes were glowing with quickly-roused passion, but she kept
+them turned from her uncle's face.
+
+"He told me that the boy had heavy mortgages on his land and stock. He
+told me that if he were to realize to-morrow there would be little or
+nothing for himself. Everything would go to some firm in Calford. In
+short, that he has gambled his ranch away."
+
+"And he told this to you, uncle, dear." Then the girl paused and looked
+far out across the great muskeg. In her abrupt fashion she turned again
+to the old man. "Uncle," she went on, "tell me truly, do you owe
+anything to Lablache? Has he any hold upon you?"
+
+There was a world of anxiety in her voice as she spoke. John Allandale
+tried to follow her thought before he answered. He seemed to grasp
+something of her meaning, for in a moment his eyes took on an expression
+of pain. Then his words came slowly, as from one who is not sure of what
+he is saying.
+
+"I owe him some--money--yes--but--"
+
+"Poker?"
+
+The question was jerked viciously from the girl's lips.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Jacky turned slowly away until her eyes rested upon the distant, grazing
+horse. A strange restlessness seemed to be upon her. She was fidgeting
+with the gauntlet which she had just removed. Then slowly her right hand
+passed round to her hip, where it rested upon the butt of her revolver.
+There was a tight drawnness about her lips and her keen gray eyes looked
+as though gazing into space.
+
+"How much?" she said at last, breaking the heavy silence which had
+followed upon her uncle's admission. Then before he could answer she
+went on deliberately: "But there--I guess it don't cut any figure.
+Lablache shall be paid, and I take it his bill of interest won't amount
+to more than we can pay if we're put to it. Poor old Bill!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE "STRAY" BEYOND THE MUSKEG
+
+
+The Foss River Settlement nestles in one of those shallow
+hollows--scarcely a valley and which yet must be designated by such a
+term--in which the Canadian North-West abounds.
+
+We are speaking now of the wilder and less-inhabited parts of the great
+country, where grain-growing is only incidental, and the prevailing
+industry is stock-raising. Where the land gradually rises towards the
+maze-like foothills before the mighty crags of the Rockies themselves be
+reached. A part where yet is to be heard of the romantic crimes of the
+cattle-raiders; a part to where civilization has already turned its
+face, but where civilizaton has yet to mature. In such a country is
+situate the Foss River Settlement.
+
+The settlement itself is like dozens of others of its kind. There is the
+school-house, standing by itself, apart from other buildings, as if in
+proud distinction for its classic vocation. There is the church, or
+rather chapel, where every denomination holds its services. A saloon,
+where four per cent. beer and prohibition whiskey of the worst
+description is openly sold over the bar; where you can buy poker "chips"
+to any amount, and can sit down and play from daylight till dark, from
+dark to daylight. A blacksmith and wheelwright; a baker; a carpenter; a
+doctor who is also a druggist; a store where one can buy every article
+of dry goods at exorbitant prices--and on credit; and then, besides all
+this, well beyond the township limit there is a half-breed settlement, a
+place which even to this day is a necessary evil and a constant thorn
+in the side of that smart, efficient force--the North-West Mounted
+Police.
+
+Lablache's store stands in the center of the settlement, facing on to
+the market-place--the latter a vague, undefined space of waste ground on
+which vendors of produce are wont to draw up their wagons. The store is
+a massive building of great extent. Its proportions rise superior to its
+surroundings, as if to indicate in a measure its owner's worldly status
+in the district It is built entirely of stone, and roofed with
+slate--the only building of such construction in the settlement.
+
+A wonderful center of business is Lablache's store--the chief one for a
+radius of fifty miles. Nearly the whole building is given up to the
+stocking of goods, and only at the back of the building is to be found a
+small office which answers the multifarious purposes of office, parlor,
+dining-room, smoking-room--in short, every necessity of its owner,
+except bedroom, which occupies a mere recess partitioned off by thin
+matchwood boarding.
+
+Wealthy as Lablache was known to be he spent little or no money upon
+himself beyond just sufficient to purchase the bare necessities of life.
+He had few requirements which could not be satisfied under the headings
+of tobacco and food--both of which he indulged himself freely. The
+saloon provided the latter, and as for the former, trade price was best
+suited to his inclinations, and so he drew upon his stock. He was a
+curious man, was Verner Lablache--a man who understood the golden value
+of silence. He never even spoke of his nationality. Foss River was
+content to call him curious--some people preferred other words to
+express their opinion.
+
+Lablache had known John Allandale for years. Who, in Foss River, had he
+not known for years? Lablache would have liked to call old John his
+friend, but somehow "Poker" John had never responded to the
+money-lender's advances. Lablache showed no resentment. If he cared at
+all he was careful to keep his feelings hidden. One thing is certain,
+however, he allowed himself to think long and often of old John--and his
+household. Often, when in the deepest stress of his far-reaching work,
+he would heave his great bulk back in his chair and allow those fishy,
+lashless, sphinx-like eyes of his to gaze out of his window in the
+direction of the Foss River Ranch. His window faced in the direction of
+John's house, which was plainly visible on the slope which bounded the
+southern side of the settlement.
+
+And so it came about a few days later, in one of these digressions of
+thought, that the money-lender, gazing out towards the ranch, beheld a
+horseman riding slowly up to the veranda of the Allandale's house. There
+was nothing uncommon in the incident, but the sight riveted his
+attention, and an evil light came into his usually expressionless eyes.
+He recognized the horseman as the Hon. Bunning-Ford.
+
+Lablache swung round on his revolving chair, and, in doing so, kicked
+over a paper-basket. The rapidity of his movement was hardly to be
+expected in one of his bulk. His thin eyebrows drew together in an ugly
+frown.
+
+"What does he want?" he muttered, under his heavy breath.
+
+He hazarded no answer to his own question. It was answered for him. He
+saw the figure of a woman step out on to the veranda.
+
+The money-lender rose swiftly to his feet and took a pair of
+field-glasses from their case. Adjusting them he gazed long and
+earnestly at the house on the hill.
+
+Jacky was talking to "Lord" Bill. She was habited in her dungaree skirt
+and buckskin bodice. Presently Bill dismounted and passed into the
+house.
+
+Lablache shut his glasses with a snap and turned away from the window.
+For some time he stood gazing straight before him and a swift torrent of
+thought flowed through his active brain. Then, with the directness of
+one whose mind is made up, he went over to a small safe which stood in
+a corner of the room. From this he took an account book. The cover bore
+the legend "Private." He laid it upon the table, and, for some moments,
+bent over it as he scanned its pages.
+
+He paused at an account headed John Allandale. The figures of this
+account were very large, totalling into six figures. The balance against
+the rancher was enormous. Lablache gave a satisfied grunt as he turned
+over to another account.
+
+"Safe--safe enough. Safe as the Day of Doom," he said slowly. His mouth
+worked with a cruel smile.
+
+He paused at the account of Bunning-Ford.
+
+"Twenty thousand dollars--um," the look of satisfaction was changed. He
+looked less pleased, but none the less cruel. "Not enough--let me see.
+His place is worth fifty thousand dollars. Stock another thirty
+thousand. I hold thirty-five thousand on first mortgage for the Calford
+Trust and Loan Co." He smiled significantly. "This bill of sale for
+twenty thousand is in my own name. Total, fifty-five thousand. Sell him
+up and there would still be a margin. No, not yet, my friend."
+
+He closed the book and put it away. Then he walked to the window.
+Bunning-Ford's horse was still standing outside the house.
+
+"He must be dealt with soon," he muttered.
+
+And in those words was concentrated a world of hate and cruel purpose.
+
+Who shall say of what a man's disposition is composed? Who shall
+penetrate those complex feelings which go to make a man what his secret
+consciousness knows himself to be? Not even the man himself can tell the
+why and wherefore of his passions and motives. It is a matter beyond the
+human ken. It is a matter which neither science nor learning can tell us
+of. Verner Lablache was possessed of all that prosperity could give him.
+He was wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, and no pleasure which money
+could buy was beyond his reach. He knew, only too well, that when the
+moment came, and he wished it, he could set out for any of the great
+centers of fashion and society, and there purchase for himself a wife
+who would fulfill the requirements of the most fastidious. In his own
+arrogant mind he went further, and protested that he could choose whom
+he would and she would be his. But this method he set aside as too
+simple, and, instead, had decided to select for his wife a girl whom he
+had watched grow up to womanhood from the first day that she had opened
+her great, wondering eyes upon the world. And thus far he had been
+thwarted. All his wealth went for nothing. The whim of this girl he had
+chosen was more powerful in this matter than was gold--the gold he
+loved. But Lablache was not the man to sit down and admit of defeat; he
+meant to marry Joaquina Allandale willy-nilly. Love was impossible to
+such a man as he. He had conceived an absorbing passion for her, it is
+true, but love--as it is generally understood--no. He was not a young
+man--the victim of a passion, fierce but transient. He was matured in
+all respects--in mind and body. His passion was lasting, if impure, and
+he meant to take to himself the girl-wife. Nothing should stand in his
+way.
+
+He turned back to his desk, but not to work.
+
+In the meantime the object of his forcible attentions was holding an
+interesting _tete-a-tete_ with the man against whom he fostered an evil
+purpose.
+
+Jacky was seated at a table in the pleasant sitting-room of her uncle's
+house. Spread out before her were several open stock books, from which
+she was endeavoring to estimate the probable number of "beeves" which
+the early spring would produce. This was a task which she always liked
+to do herself before the round-up was complete, so as the easier to sort
+the animals into their various pastures when they should come in. Her
+visitor was standing with his back to the stove, in typical Canadian
+fashion. He was, clad in a pair of well-worn chaps drawn over a pair of
+moleskin trousers, and wore a gray tweed coat and waistcoat over a soft
+cotton shirt, of the "collar attached" type. As he stood there the stoop
+of his shoulders was very pronounced. His fair hair was carefully
+brushed, and although his face was slightly weather-stained, still, it
+was quite easy to imagine the distinguished figure he would be, clad in
+all the solemn pomp of broadcloth and the silk glaze of fashionable
+society in the neighborhood of Bond Street.
+
+The girl was not looking at her books. She was looking up and smiling at
+a remark her companion had just made.
+
+"And so your friend, Pat Nabob, is going up into the mountains after
+gold. Does he know anything about prospecting?"
+
+"I think so--he's had some experience."
+
+Jacky became serious. She rose and turned to the window, which commanded
+a perfect view of the distant peaks of the Rockies, towering high above
+the broad, level expanse of the great muskeg. With her back still turned
+to him she fired an abrupt question.
+
+"Say, Bill, guess 'Pickles' has some other reason for this mad scheme.
+What is it? You can't tell me he's going just for love of the adventure
+of the thing. Now, let's hear the truth."
+
+Unobserved by the girl, her companion shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"If you want his reason you'd better ask him, Jacky. I can only
+surmise."
+
+"So can I." Jacky turned sharply. "I'll tell you why he's going, Bill,
+and you can bet your last cent I'm right. Lablache is at the bottom of
+it. He's at the bottom of everything that causes people to leave Foss
+River. He's a blood-sucker."
+
+Bunning-Ford nodded. He was rarely expansive. Moreover, he knew he could
+add nothing to what the girl had said. She expressed his sentiments
+fully. There was a pause. Jacky was keenly eyeing the tall thin figure
+at the stove.
+
+"Why did you come to tell me of this?" she asked at last.
+
+"Thought you'd like to know. You like 'Pickles.'"
+
+"Yes--Bill, you are thinking of going with him."
+
+Her companion laughed uneasily. This girl was very keen.
+
+"I didn't say so."
+
+"No, but still you are thinking of doing so. See here, Bill, tell me all
+about it."
+
+Bill coughed. Then he turned, and stooping, shook the ashes from the
+stove and opened the damper.
+
+"Beastly cold in here," he remarked inconsequently.
+
+"Yes--but, out with it."
+
+Bill stood up and turned his indolent eyes upon his interrogator.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of going--to the mountains."
+
+"Where then?"
+
+"To the Yukon."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+In spite of herself the girl could not help the exclamation.
+
+"Why?" she went on a moment later.
+
+"Well, if you must have it, I shan't be able to last out this
+summer--unless a stroke of luck falls to my share."
+
+"Financially?"
+
+"Financially."
+
+"Lablache?"
+
+"Lablache--and the Calford Trust Co."
+
+"The same thing," with conviction.
+
+"Exactly--the same thing."
+
+"And you stand?"
+
+"If I meet the interest on my mortgages it will take away every head of
+fat cattle I can scrape together, and then I cannot pay Lablache other
+debts which fall due in two weeks' time." He quietly drew out his
+tobacco-pouch and rolled a cigarette. He seemed quite indifferent to his
+difficulties. "If I realize on the ranch now there'll be something left
+for me. If I go on, by the end of the summer there won't be."
+
+"I suppose you mean that you will be deeper in debt."
+
+He smiled in his own peculiarly lazy fashion as he held a lighted match
+to his cigarette.
+
+"Just so. I shall owe Lablache more," he said, between spasmodic draws
+at his tobacco.
+
+"Lablache has wonderful luck at cards."
+
+"Yes," shortly.
+
+Jacky returned to the table and sat down. She turned the pages of a
+stock book idly. She was thinking and the expression of her dark,
+determined little face indicated the unpleasant nature of her thoughts.
+Presently she looked up and encountered the steady gaze of her
+companion. They were great friends--these two. In that glance each read
+in the other's mind something of a mutual thought. Jacky, with womanly
+readiness, put part of it into words.
+
+"No one ever seems to win against him, Bill. Guess he makes a steady
+income out of poker."
+
+The man nodded and gulped down a deep inhalation from his cigarette.
+
+"Wonderful luck," the girl went on.
+
+"Some people call it 'luck,'" put in Bill, quietly, but with a curious
+purse of the lips.
+
+"What do you call it?" sharply.
+
+Bunning-Ford refused to commit himself. He contented himself with
+blowing the ash from his cigarette and crossing over to the window,
+where he stood looking out. He had come there that afternoon with a
+half-formed intention of telling this girl something which every girl
+must hope to hear sooner or later in her life. He had come there with
+the intention of ending, one way or the other, a
+friendship--_camaraderie_--whatever you please to call it, by telling
+this hardy girl of the prairie the old, old story over again. He loved
+this woman with an intensity that very few would have credited him with.
+Who could associate lazy, good-natured, careless "Lord" Bill with
+serious love? Certainly not his friends. And yet such was the case, and
+for that reason had he come. The affairs of Pat Nabob were but a
+subterfuge. And now he found it impossible to pronounce the words he had
+so carefully thought out. Jacky was not the woman to approach easily
+with sentiment, she was so "deucedly practical." So Bill said to
+himself. It was useless to speculate upon her feelings. This girl never
+allowed anything approaching sentiment to appear upon the surface. She
+knew better than to do so. She had the grave responsibility of her
+uncle's ranch upon her shoulders, therefore all men must be kept at
+arm's length. She was in every sense a woman, passionate, loyal, loving.
+But in addition nature had endowed her with a spirit which rose superior
+to feminine attributes and feelings. The blood in her veins--her life on
+the prairie--her tender care and solicitude for her uncle, of whose
+failings and weaknesses she was painfully aware, had caused her to put
+from her all thoughts of love and marriage. Her life must be devoted to
+him, and while he lived she was determined that no thought of self
+should interfere with her self-imposed duty.
+
+At last "Lord" Bill broke the silence which had fallen upon the room
+after the girl's unanswered question. His remark seemed irrevelant and
+inconsequent.
+
+"There's a horse on the other side of the muskeg. Who's is it?"
+
+Jacky was at his side in an instant. So suddenly had she bounded from
+the table, that her companion turned, with that lazy glance of his, and
+looked keenly at her. He failed to understand her excitement. She had
+snatched up a pair of field-glasses and had already leveled them at the
+distant object.
+
+She looked long and earnestly across the miry waste. Then she turned to
+her companion with a strange look in her beautiful gray eyes.
+
+"Bill, I've seen that horse before. Four days ago. I've looked for it
+ever since, but couldn't see it. I'm going to round it up."
+
+"Eh? How?"
+
+Bill was looking out across the muskeg again.
+
+"Guess I'm going right across there this evening," the girl said
+quietly.
+
+"Across the muskeg?" Her companion was roused out of himself. His
+usually lazy gray eyes were gleaming brightly. "Impossible!"
+
+"Not at all, Bill," she replied, with an easy smile. "I know the path."
+
+"But I thought there was only one man who ever knew that mythical path,
+and--he is dead."
+
+"Quite right, Bill--only one _man_."
+
+"Then the old stories--"
+
+There was a peculiar expression on the man's face. The girl interrupted
+him with a gay laugh.
+
+"Bother the 'old stories.' I'm going across there this evening after
+tea--coming?"
+
+Bunning-Ford looked across at the clock--the hands pointed to half-past
+one. He was silent for a minute. Then he said,--
+
+"I'll be with you at four if--if you'll tell me all about--"
+
+"Peter Retief--yes, I'll tell you as we go, Bill. What are you going to
+do until then?"
+
+"I'm going down to the saloon to meet 'Pickles,' your pet aversion,
+Pedro Mancha, and we're going to find a fourth."
+
+"Ah, poker?"
+
+"Yes, poker."
+
+"I'm sorry, Bill. But be here at four sharp and I'll tell you all about
+it. See here, boy, 'mum's' the word."
+
+The craving of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's life was excitement. His
+temperament bordered on the lethargic. He felt that unless he could
+obtain excitement life was utterly unbearable. He had sought it all over
+the world before he had adopted the life of a rancher. Here in the West
+of Canada he had found something of what he sought. There was the big
+game shooting in the mountains, and the pursuit of the "grizzly" is the
+most wildly enthralling chase in the world. There was the taming and
+"breaking" of the wild and furious "broncho"--the most exemplary
+"bucking" horse in the world. There was the "round-up" and handling of
+cattle which never failed to give unlimited excitement. And then, at all
+times, was the inevitable poker, that king of all excitements among card
+games. The West of Canada had pleased "Lord" Bill as did no other
+country, and so he had invested the remains of his younger son's portion
+in stock.
+
+He had asked for excitement and Canada had responded generously. Bill
+had found more than excitement, he had found love; and had found a
+wealth of real friendship rarely equaled in the busy cities of
+civilization.
+
+In the midst of all these things which, seeking, he had found, came this
+suggestion from a girl. The muskeg--the cruel, relentless muskeg, that
+mire, dreaded and shunned by white men and natives alike. It could be
+crossed by a secret, path. The thought pleased him. And none knew of
+this path except a man who was dead and this girl he loved. There was a
+strange excitement in the thought of such a journey.
+
+"Lord" Bill, ignoring his stirrup, vaulted into his saddle, and, as he
+swung his horse round and headed towards the settlement, he wondered
+what the day would bring forth.
+
+"Confound the cards," he muttered, as he rode away.
+
+And it was the first time in his life that he had reluctantly
+contemplated a gamble.
+
+Had he only known it, a turning-point in his life was rapidly
+approaching--a turning-point which would lead to events which, if told
+as about to occur in the nineteenth century, would surely bring down
+derision upon the head of the teller. And yet would the derided one have
+right on his side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+"WAYS THAT ARE DARK"
+
+
+It was less than a quarter of a mile from the Allandales' house to the
+saloon--a den of reeking atmosphere and fouler spirits.
+
+The saloon at Foss River was no better and no worse than hundreds of
+others in the North-West at the time of which we write. It was a fairly
+large wooden building standing at the opposite end of the open space
+which answered the purpose of a market-place, and facing Lablache's
+store. Inside, it was gloomy, and the air invariably reeked of stale
+tobacco and drink. The bar was large, and at one end stood a piano kept
+for the purpose of "sing-songs"--nightly occurrences when the execrable
+whisky had done its work. Passing through the bar one finds a large
+dining-room on one side of a passage, and, on the other, a number of
+smaller rooms devoted to the use of those who wished to play poker.
+
+It was towards this place that the Hon. Bunning-Ford was riding in the
+leisurely manner of one to whom time is no object.
+
+His thoughts were far from matters pertaining to his destination, and he
+would gladly have welcomed anything which could have interfered with his
+projected game. For the moment poker had lost its charm.
+
+This man was at no time given to vacillation. All his methods were, as a
+rule, very direct. Underneath his easy nonchalance he was of a very
+decided nature. His thin face at times could suddenly become very keen.
+His true character was hidden by the cultivated lazy expression of his
+eyes. Bunning-Ford was one of those men who are at their best in
+emergency. At all other times life was a thing which it was impossible
+for him to take seriously. He valued money as little as he valued
+anything in the world. Poker he looked upon as a means to an end. He had
+no religious principles, but firmly believed in doing as he would be
+done by. Honesty and truth he loved, because to him they were clean. It
+mattered nothing to him what his surroundings might be, for, though
+living in them, he was not of them. He would as soon sit down to play
+cards with three known murderers as play in the best club in London, and
+he would treat them honestly and expect the same in return--but a loaded
+revolver would be slung upon his hip and the holster would be open and
+handy.
+
+As he neared the saloon he recognized the figures of two men walking in
+the direction of the saloon. They were the doctor and John Allandale. He
+rode towards them.
+
+"Hallo, Bill, whither bound?" said the old rancher, as the younger man
+came up. "Going to join us in the parlor of Smith's fragrant hostelry?
+The spider is already there weaving the web in which he hopes to ensnare
+us."
+
+Bunning-Ford shook his head.
+
+"Who's the spider--Lablache?"
+
+"Yes, we're going to play. It's the first time for some days. Guess
+we've all been too busy with the round-up. Won't you really join us?"
+
+"Can't. I've promised Mancha and 'Pickles' revenge for a game we played
+the other night, when I happened to relieve them of a few dollars."
+
+"Sensible man--Lablache is too consistent," put in the doctor, quietly.
+
+"Nonsense," said "Poker" John, optimistically. "You're always carping
+about the man's luck. We must break it soon."
+
+"Yes, we've suggested that before."
+
+Bill spoke with meaning and finished up with a purse of the lips.
+
+They were near the saloon.
+
+"How long are you going to play?" he went on quietly.
+
+"Right through the evening," replied "Poker" John, with keen
+satisfaction. "And you?"
+
+"Only until four o'clock. I am going to take tea up at your place."
+
+The old man offered no comment and Bill dismounted and tied the horse to
+a post, and the three men entered the stuffy bar. The room was half full
+of people. They were mostly cow-boys or men connected with the various
+ranches about the neighborhood. Words of greeting hailed the new-comers
+on all sides, but old John, who led the way, took little or no notice of
+those whom he recognized. The lust of gambling was upon him, and, as a
+dipsomaniac craves for drink, so he was longing to feel the smooth
+surface of pasteboard between his fingers. While Bunning-Ford stopped to
+exchange a word with some of those he met, the other two men went
+straight up to the bar. Smith himself, a grizzled old man, with a
+tobacco-stained gray moustache and beard, and the possessor of a pair of
+narrow, wicked-looking eyes, was serving out whisky to a couple of
+worse-looking half-breeds. It was noticeable that every man present wore
+at his waist either a revolver or a long sheath knife. Even the
+proprietor was fully armed. The half-breeds wore knives.
+
+"Poker" John was apparently a man of distinction here. Possibly the
+knowledge that he played a big game elicited for him a sort of
+indifferent respect. Anyway, the half-breeds moved to allow him to
+approach the bar.
+
+"Lablache here?" asked the rancher, eagerly.
+
+"He is," replied Mr. Smith, in a drawling voice, as he pushed the two
+whiskies across to the waiting half-breeds. "Been here half an hour.
+Jest pass right through, mister. Maybe you'll find him located in number
+two."
+
+There was no doubt that John B. Smith hailed from America. Although the
+Canadian is not devoid of the American accent there is not much doubt of
+nationality when one hears the real thing.
+
+"Good; come on, Doc. No, thanks, Smith," as the man behind the bar
+reached towards a bottle with a white seal. "We'll have something later
+on. Number two on the right, I think you said."
+
+The two men passed on into the back part of the premises.
+
+"Guess dollars'll be flyin' 'fore the night's out," said Smith,
+addressing any who cared to listen, and indicating "Poker" John with a
+jerk of the head in the direction of the door through which the two men
+had just passed. "Make the banks hum when they raise the 'bid.' Guess
+ther' ain't many o' ther' likes roun' these parts. Rye or Scotch?" to
+"Lord" Bill and three other men who came up at that moment. Mancha and
+"Pickles" were with him, and a fourth player--the deposed captain of the
+"round-up," Sim Lory.
+
+"Scotch, you old heathen, of course," replied Bill, with a tolerant
+laugh. "You don't expect us to drink fire-water. If you kept decent Rye
+it would be different. We're going to have a flutter. Any room?"
+
+"Number two, I guess. Chock-a-block in the others. Tolerable run on
+poker these times. All the round-up hands been gettin' advances, I take
+it. Say when."
+
+The four men said "when" in due course, and each watered his own whisky.
+The proprietor went on, with a quick twinkle of his beady eyes,--
+
+"Ther's Mr. Allandale an' Lablache and company in number two. Nobody
+else, I guess. I've a notion you'll find plenty of room. Chips, no? All
+right; goin' to play a tidy game? Good!"
+
+The four men, having swallowed their drink, followed in the footsteps of
+the others.
+
+There was something very brisk and business-like about this
+gambling-hell. Early settlers doubtless remember in the days of
+"prohibition," when four per cent. beer was supposed to be the only
+beverage of the country, and before rigid legislation, backed by the
+armed force of the North-West Mounted Police, swept these frightful
+pollutions from the fair face of the prairie, how they thrived on the
+encouragement of gambling and the sale of contraband spirits. The West
+is a cleaner country now, thanks to the untiring efforts of the police.
+
+In number two "Poker" John and his companions were already getting to
+work when Bill and his friends entered. Beyond a casual remark they
+seemed to take little notice of each other. One and all were eager to
+begin the play.
+
+A deep silence quickly fell upon the room. It was the silence of
+suppressed excitement. A silence only broken by monosyllabic and almost
+whispered betting and "raising" as the games proceeded. An hour passed
+thus. At the table where Lablache and John Allandale were playing the
+usual luck prevailed. The money-lender seemed unable to do wrong, and at
+the other table Bunning-Ford was faring correspondingly badly. Pedro
+Mancha, the Mexican, a man of obscure past and who lived no one quite
+knew how, but who always appeared to find the necessary to gamble with,
+was the favored one of dame Fortune. Already he had heaped before him a
+pile of "bills" and I.O.U.'s most of which bore "Lord" Bill's signature.
+Looking on at either table, no one from outward signs could have said
+which way the luck was going. Only the scribblings of the pencils upon
+the memo pads and the gradual accumulation of the precious slips of
+paper before Lablache at one table and the wild-eyed, dark-skinned
+Mexican at the other, told the story of the ruin which was surely being
+accomplished.
+
+At length, with a loser's privilege, Bunning-Ford, after glancing at his
+watch, rose from the table. His lean face was in no way disturbed. He
+seemed quite indifferent to his losses.
+
+"I'll quit you, Pedro," he said, smiling lazily down at the Mexican.
+"You're a bit too hot for me to-day."
+
+The dark-skinned man smiled a vague, non-committing smile and displayed
+a double row of immaculate teeth.
+
+"Good. You shall have your revenge. Doubtless you would like some of
+these papers back," he said, as he swept them leisurely into his
+pocket-book, and then sugar-bagging a cigarette paper he poured a few
+grains of granulated tobacco into it.
+
+"Yes, I daresay I shall relieve you of some later on," replied Bill,
+quietly. Then he turned to the other table and stood watching the play.
+
+He glanced anxiously at the bare table in front of the old rancher. Even
+Dr. Abbot was well stocked with slips of paper. Then his gaze fell upon
+the money-lender, behind whose huge back he was standing.
+
+He moved slightly to one side. It is an unwritten law amongst poker
+players, in a public place in the west of the American continent, that
+no onlooker should stand immediately behind any player. He moved to
+Lablache's right. The money-lender was dealing. "Lord" Bill lit a
+cigarette.
+
+The cards were dealt round. Then the draw. Then Lablache laid the pack
+down. Bunning-Ford had noted these things mechanically. Then something
+caught his attention. It was his very indifference which caused his
+sudden attention. Had he been following the game with his usual keenness
+he would only have been thinking of the betting.
+
+Lablache was writing upon his memo, pad, which was a gorgeous effort in
+silver mounting. One of those oblong blocks with a broad band of
+burnished silver at the binding of the perforated leaves. He knew that
+this was the pad the money-lender always used; anyway, it was similar in
+all respects to his usual memorandum pads.
+
+How it was his attention had become fixed upon that pad he could not
+have told, but now an inspiration came to him. His face remained
+unchanged in its expression, but those lazy eyes of his gleamed wickedly
+as he leisurely puffed at his cigarette.
+
+The bet went round. Lablache raised and raised again. Eventually the
+rancher "saw" him. The other took the pool. No word was spoken, but
+"Lord" Bill gritted his teeth and viciously pitched his cigarette to
+the other end of the room.
+
+During the next two deals he allowed his attention to wander. Lablache
+dropped out one hand, and, in the next, he merely "filled" his "ante"
+and allowed the doctor to take in the pool. John Allandale's face was
+serious. The nervous twitching of the cheek was still, but the drawn
+lines around his mouth were in no way hidden by his gray mustache, nor
+did the eager light which burned luridly in his eyes for one moment
+deceive the onlooker as to the anxiety of mind which his features
+masked.
+
+Now it was Lablache's deal. "Lord" Bill concentrated his attention upon
+the dealer. The money-lender was left-handed. He held the pack in his
+right, and, in dealing, he was slow and slightly clumsy. The object of
+Bunning-Ford's attention quickly became apparent. Each card as it left
+the pack was passed over the burnished silver of the dealer's memorandum
+pad. It was smartly done, and Lablache was assisted by the fact that the
+piece of metal was inclined towards him. There was no necessity to look
+down deliberately to see the reflection of each card as it passed on its
+way to its recipient, a glance--just the glance necessary when dealing
+cards--and the money-lender, by a slight effort of memory, knew every
+hand that was out. Lablache was cheating.
+
+To say that "Lord" Bill was astonished would be wrong. He was not. He
+had long suspected it. The steady run of luck which Lablache had
+persisted in was too phenomenal. It was enough to set the densest
+thinking. Now everything was plain. Standing where he was, Bill had
+almost been able to read the index numerals himself. He gave no sign of
+his discovery. Apparently the matter was of no consequence to him, for
+he merely lit a fresh cigarette and walked towards the door. He turned
+as he was about to pass out.
+
+"What time shall I tell Jacky to expect you home, John?" he said
+quietly, addressing the old rancher.
+
+Lablache looked up with a swift, malevolent glance, but he said nothing.
+Old John turned a drawn face to the speaker.
+
+"Supper, I guess," he said in a thick voice, husky from long silence.
+"And tell Smith to send me in a bottle of 'white seal' and some
+glasses."
+
+"Right you are." Then "Lord" Bill passed out. "Poker without whisky is
+bad," he muttered as he made his way back to the bar, "but poker and
+whisky together can only be the beginning of the end. We'll see. Poor
+old John!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ACROSS THE GREAT MUSKEG
+
+
+It was on the stroke of four o'clock when Bunning-Ford left the saloon.
+He had said that he would be at the ranch at four, and usually he liked
+to be punctual. He was late now, however, and made no effort to make up
+time. Instead, he allowed his horse to walk leisurely in the direction
+of the Allandales' house. He wanted time to think before he again met
+Jacky.
+
+He was confronted by a problem which taxed all his wit. It was perhaps a
+fortunate thing that his was not a hasty temperament. He well knew the
+usual method of dealing with men who cheated at cards in those Western
+wilds. Each man carried his own law in his holster. He had realized
+instantly that Lablache was not a case for the usual treatment. Pistol
+law would have defeated its own ends. Such means would not recover the
+terrible losses of "Poker" John, neither would he recover thereby his
+own lost property. No, he congratulated himself upon the restraint he
+had exercised when he had checked his natural impulse to expose the
+money-lender. Now, however, the case looked more complicated, and, for
+the moment, he could see no possible means of solving the difficulty.
+Lablache must be made to disgorge--but how? John Allandale must be
+stopped playing and further contributing to Lablache's ill-gotten gains.
+Again--but how?
+
+Bill was roused out of his usual apathetic indifference. The moment had
+arrived when he must set aside the old indolent carelessness. He was
+stirred to the core. A duty had been suddenly forced upon him. A duty to
+himself and also a duty to those he loved. Lablache had consistently
+robbed him, and also the uncle of the girl he loved. Now, how to
+restore that property and prevent the villain's further depredations?
+
+Again and again he asked himself the question as he allowed his horse to
+mouche, with slovenly step, over the sodden prairie; but no answer
+presented itself. His thin, eagle face was puckered with perplexity. The
+sleepy eyes gleamed vengefully from between his half-closed eyelids as
+he gazed across the sunlit prairie. His aquiline nose, always bearing a
+resemblance to an eagle's beak, was rendered even more like that
+aristocratic proboscis by reason of the down-drawn tip, consequent upon
+the odd pursing of his tightly-compressed lips. For the moment "Lord"
+Bill was at a loss. And, oddly enough, he began to wonder if, after all,
+silence had been his best course.
+
+He was still struggling in the direst perplexity when he drew up at the
+veranda of the ranch. Dismounting, he hitched his picket rope to the
+tying-post and entered the sitting-room by the open French window. Tea
+was set upon the table and Jacky was seated before the stove.
+
+"Late, Bill, late! Guess that 'plug' of yours is a rapid beast, judging
+by the pace you came up the hill."
+
+For the moment Bunning-Ford's face had resumed its wonted air of lazy
+good-nature.
+
+"Glad you took the trouble to watch for me, Jacky," he retorted quickly,
+with an attempt at his usual lightness of manner. "I appreciate the
+honor."
+
+"Nothing of the sort. I was looking for uncle. The mail brought a letter
+from Calford. Dawson, the cattle buyer of the Western Railway Company,
+wants to see him. The Home Government are buying largely. He is
+commissioned to purchase 30,000 head of prime beeves. Come along, tea's
+ready."
+
+Bill seated himself at the table and Jacky poured out the tea. She was
+dressed for the saddle.
+
+"Where is Dawson now?" asked Bill.
+
+"Calford. Guess he'll wait right there for uncle."
+
+Suddenly a look of relief passed across the man's face.
+
+"This is Wednesday. At six o'clock the mail-cart goes back to town. Send
+some one down to the _saloon_ at once, and John will be able to go in
+to-night."
+
+As Bill spoke his eyes encountered a direct and steady glance from the
+girl. There was much meaning in that mute exchange. For answer Jacky
+rose and rang a bell sharply.
+
+"Send a hand down to the settlement to find my uncle. Ask him to come up
+at once. There is an important letter awaiting him," she said, to the
+old servant who answered the summons.
+
+"Bill, what's up?" she went on, when the retainer had departed.
+
+"Lots. Look here, Jacky, we mustn't be long over tea. We must both be
+out of the house when your uncle returns. He may not want to go into
+town to-night. Anyway, I don't want to give him the chance of asking any
+questions until we have had a long talk. He's losing to Lablache again."
+
+"Ah! I don't want anything to eat. Whenever you are ready, Bill, I am."
+
+Bunning-Ford drank his tea and rose from the table. The girl followed
+his example.
+
+There was something very strong and resolute in the brisk,
+ready-for-emergency ways of this girl. There was nothing of the
+ultra-feminine dependence and weakness of her sex about her. And yet her
+hardiness detracted in no way from her womanly charm; rather was that
+complex abstract enhanced by her wonderful self-reliance. There are
+those who decry independence in women, but surely only such must come
+from those whose nature is largely composed of hectoring selfishness.
+There was a resolute set of the mouth as Jacky sent word to the stables
+to have her horse brought round. She asked no questions of her
+companion, as, waiting for compliance with her orders, she drew on her
+stout buckskin gauntlets. She understood this man well enough to be
+aware that his suggestion was based upon necessity. "Lord" Bill rarely
+interfered with anything or anybody, but when such an occasion arose his
+words carried a deal of weight with those who knew him.
+
+A few minutes later and they were both riding slowly down the avenue of
+pines leading from the house. The direction in which they were moving
+was away from the settlement, down towards where the great level flat of
+the muskeg began. At the end of the avenue they turned directly to the
+southeast, leaving the township behind them. The prairie was soft and
+springy. There was still a keen touch of winter in the fresh spring air.
+The afternoon sun was shining coldly athwart the direction of their
+route.
+
+Jacky led the way, and, as they drew clear of the bush, and the house
+and settlement were hidden from view behind them, she urged her horse
+into a good swinging lope. Thus they progressed in silence. The
+far-reaching deadly mire on their right, looking innocent enough in the
+shadow of the snow-clad peaks beyond, the ranch well behind them in the
+hollow of the Foss River Valley, whilst, on their left, the mighty
+prairie rolled away upwards to the higher level of the surrounding
+country.
+
+In this way they covered nearly a mile, then the girl drew up beside a
+small clump of weedy bush.
+
+"Are you ready for the plunge, Bill?" she asked, as her companion drew
+up beside her. "The path's not more than four feet wide. Does your
+'plug' shy any?"
+
+"He's all right. You lead right on. Where you can travel I've a notion
+I'm not likely to funk. But I don't see the path."
+
+"I guess you don't. Never did nature keep her secret better than in the
+setting out of this one road across her woeful man-trap. You can't see
+the path, but I guess it's an open book to me, and its pages ain't
+Hebrew either. Say, Bill, there's been many a good prairie man looking
+for this path, but"--with a slight accent of exultation--"they've never
+found it. Come on. Old Nigger knows it; many a time has he trodden its
+soft and shaking surface. Good old horse!" and she patted the black neck
+of her charger as she turned his head towards the distant hills and
+urged him forward with a "chirrup."
+
+Far across the muskeg the distant peaks of the mountain range glistened
+in the afternoon sun like diamond-studded sugar loaves. So high were the
+clouds that every portion of the mighty summits was clearly outlined.
+The great ramparts of the prairie are a magnificent sight on a clear
+day. Flat and smooth as any billiard-table stretched this silent,
+mysterious muskeg, already green and fair to the eye, an alluring
+pasture to the unwary. An experienced eye might have judged it too
+green--too alluring. Could a more perfect trap be devised by evil human
+ingenuity than this? Think for one instant of a bottomless pit of liquid
+soil, absorbing in its peculiar density. Think of all the horrors of a
+quicksand, which, embracing, sucks down into its cruel bosom the
+despairing victim of its insatiable greed. Think of a thin, solid crust,
+spread like icing upon a cake and concealing the soft, spongy matter
+beneath, covering every portion of the cruel plain; a crust which yields
+a crop of luxurious, enticing grass of the most perfect emerald hue; a
+crust firm in itself and dry looking, and yet not strong enough to bear
+the weight of a good-sized terrier. And what imagination can possibly
+conceive a more cruel--more perfect trap for man or beast? Woe to the
+creature which trusts its weight upon that treacherous crust. For one
+fleeting instant it will sway beneath the tread, then, in the flash of a
+thought, it will break, and once the surface gives no human power can
+save the victim. Down, down into the depths must the poor wretch be
+plunged, with scarce time to offer a prayer to God for the poor soul
+which so swiftly passes to its doom. Such is the muskeg; and surely more
+terrible is it than is that horror of the navigator--the quicksands.
+
+The girl led the way without as much as a passing thought for the
+dangers which surrounded her. Truly had her companion said "I don't see
+the path," for no path was to be seen. But Jacky had learned her lesson
+well--and learned it from one who read the prairie as the Bedouin reads
+the desert. The path was there and with a wondrous assurance she
+followed its course.
+
+The travelers moved silently along. No word was spoken; each was wrapped
+in thought. Now and again a stray prairie chicken would fly up from
+their path with a whirr, and speed across the mire, calling to its mate
+as it went. The drowsy chirrup of frogs went on unceasingly around, and
+already the ubiquitous mosquito was on the prowl for human gore.
+
+The upstanding horses now walked with down-drooped heads, with sniffing
+noses low towards the ground, ears cocked, and with alert, careful
+tread, as if fully alive to the danger of their perilous road. The
+silence of that ride teemed with a thrill of danger. Half an hour passed
+and then the girl gathered up her reins and urged her willing horse into
+a canter.
+
+"Come on, Bill, the path is more solid now, and wider. The worst part is
+on the far side," she called back over her shoulder.
+
+Her companion followed her unquestioningly.
+
+The sun was already dipping towards the distant peaks and already a
+shadowy haze was rising upon the eastern prairie. The chill of winter
+grew keener as the sun slowly sank.
+
+Two-thirds of the journey were covered and Jacky, holding up a warning
+hand, drew up her horse. Her companion came to a stand beside her.
+
+"The path divides in three here," said the girl, glancing keenly down at
+the fresh green grass. "Two of the branches are blind and end abruptly
+further on. Guess we must avoid 'em," she went on shortly, "unless we
+are anxious to punctuate our earthly career. This is the one we must
+take," turning her horse to the left path. "Keep your eye peeled and
+stick to Nigger's footprints."
+
+The man did as he was bid, marvelling the while at the strange knowledge
+of his companion. He had no fear; he only wondered. The trim, graceful
+figure on the horse ahead of him occupied all his thoughts. He watched
+her as, with quiet assurance she guided her horse. He had known Jacky
+for years. He had watched her grow to womanhood, but although her
+up-bringing must of necessity have taught her an independence and
+courage given to few women, he had never dreamt of the strength of the
+sturdy nature she was now displaying. Again his thoughts went to the
+tales of the gossips of the settlement, and the strange figure of the
+daring cattle-thief loomed up over his mental horizon. He rode, and as
+he rode he wondered. The end Of this journey would be a fitting place
+for the explanations which must take place between them.
+
+At length the shaking path came to an end and the mire was crossed. A
+signal from the girl brought her companion to her side.
+
+"We have crossed it," she said, glancing up at the sun, and indicating
+the muskeg with a backward jerk of her head. "Now for the horse."
+
+"What about your promise to tell me about Peter Retief?"
+
+"Guess being the narrator you must let me take my time."
+
+She smiled up into her companion's eagle face.
+
+"The horse is a mile or so further up towards the foothills. Come
+along."
+
+They galloped side by side over the moist, springy grass--moist with the
+recently-melted snow. "Lord" Bill was content to wait her pleasure.
+Suddenly the man brought his horse up with a severe "yank."
+
+"What's up?" The girl's beautiful eyes were fixed upon the ground with a
+peculiar instinct. Bill pointed to the ground on the side furthest from
+his companion.
+
+"Look!"
+
+Jacky gazed at the spot indicated.
+
+"The tracks of the horse," she said sharply.
+
+She was on the ground in an instant and inspecting the hoof-prints
+eagerly, with that careful study acquired by experience.
+
+"Well?" said the other, as she turned back to her horse.
+
+"Recent." Then in an impressive tone which her companion failed to
+understand, "That horse has been shod. The shoes are off--all except a
+tiny bit on his off fore. We must track it."
+
+They now separated and rode keeping the hoof-prints between them. The
+marks were quite fresh and so plain in the soft ground that they were
+able to ride at a good pace. The clear-cut indentations led away from
+the mire up the gently-sloping ground. Suddenly they struck upon a path
+that was little more than a cattle-track, and instantly became mingled
+with other hoof-marks, older and going both ways. Hitherto the girl had
+ridden with her eyes closely watching the tracks, but now she suddenly
+raised her sweet, weather-tanned face to her companion, and, with a
+light of the wildest excitement in her eyes, she pointed along the path
+and set her horse at a gallop.
+
+"Come on! I know," she cried, "right on into the hills."
+
+Bill followed willingly enough, but he failed to understand his
+companion's excitement. After all they were merely bent upon "roping" a
+stray horse. The girl galloped on at breakneck speed; the heavy black
+ringlets of hair were swept like an outspread fan from under the broad
+brim of her Stetson hat, her buckskin bodice ballooning in the wind as
+rider and horse charged along, utterly indifferent to the nature of the
+country they were traveling--indifferent to everything except the mad
+pursuit of an unseen quarry. Now they were on the summit of some
+eminence whence they could see for miles the confusion of hills, like
+innumerable bee-hives set close together upon an endless plain; now
+down, tearing through a deep hollow, and racing towards another abrupt
+ascent. With every hill passed the country became less green and more
+and more rugged. "Lord" Bill struggled hard to keep the girl in view as
+she raced on--on through the labyrinth of seemingly endless hillocks.
+But at last he drew up on the summit of a high cone-like rise and
+realized that he had lost her.
+
+For a moment he gazed around with that peculiar, all-observing keenness
+which is given to those whose lives are spent in countries where human
+habitation is sparse--where the work of man is lost in the immensity of
+Nature's effort. He could see no sign of the girl. And yet he knew she
+could not be far away. His instincts told him to search for her horse
+tracks. He was sure she had passed that way. While yet he was thinking,
+she suddenly reappeared over the brow of a further hill. She halted at
+the summit, and, seeing him, waved a summons. Her gesticulations were
+excited and he hastened to obey. Down into the intervening valley his
+horse plunged with headlong recklessness. At the bottom there was a
+hard, beaten track. Almost unconsciously he allowed his beast to adopt
+it. It wound round and upwards, at the base of the hill on which Jacky
+was waiting for him. He passed the bend, then, with a desperate,
+backward heave of the body, he "yanked" his horse short up, throwing the
+eager animal on to its haunches.
+
+He had pulled up on what, at first appeared to be the brink of a
+precipice, and what in reality was a declivity, down which only the slow
+and sure foot of a steer or broncho might safely tread. He sat aghast at
+his narrow escape. Then, turning at the sound of a voice behind him, he
+found that Jacky had come down from the hill above.
+
+"See, Bill," she cried, as she drew abreast of his hard-breathing horse,
+"there he is! Down there, peacefully, grazing."
+
+Her excitement was intense, and the hand with which she pointed shook
+like an aspen. Her agitation was incomprehensible to the man. He looked
+down. Hitherto he had seen little beyond the brink at which he had come
+to such a sudden stand. But now, as he gazed down, he beheld a deep
+dark-shadowed valley, far-reaching and sombre. From their present
+position its full extent was beyond the range of vision, but sufficient
+was to be seen to realize that here was one of those vast hiding-places
+only to be found in lands where Nature's fanciful mood has induced the
+mighty upheaval of the world's greatest mountain ranges. On the far side
+of the deep, sombre vale a towering craig rose wall-like, sheer up,
+overshadowing the soft, green pasture deep down at the bottom of the
+yawning gulch. Dense patches of dark, relentless pinewoods lined its
+base, and, over all, in spite of the broad daylight, a peculiar shadow,
+as of evening, added mystery to the haunting view.
+
+It was some seconds before the man was able to distinguish the tiny
+object which had roused the girl to such unaccountable excitement. When
+he did, however, he beheld a golden chestnut horse quietly grazing as it
+made its way leisurely towards the ribbon-like stream which flowed in
+the bosom of the mysterious valley. "Lord" Bill's voice was quite
+emotionless when he spoke.
+
+"Ah, a chestnut!" he said quietly. "Well, our quest is vain. He is
+beyond our reach."
+
+For a moment the girl looked at him in indignant surprise. Then her mood
+changed and she nearly laughed outright. She had forgotten that this man
+as yet knew nothing of what had all along been in her thoughts. As yet
+he knew nothing of the secret of this hollow. To her it meant a world of
+recollection--a world of stirring adventure and awful hazard. When first
+she had seen that horse, grazing within sight of her uncle's house, her
+interest had been aroused--suspicions had been sent teeming through her
+brain. Her thoughts had flown to the man whom she had once known, and
+who was now dead. She had believed his horse had died with him. And now
+the strange apparition had yielded up its secret. The beast had been
+traced to the old, familiar haunt, and what had been only suspicion had
+suddenly become a startling reality.
+
+"Ah, I forgot," she replied, "you don't understand. That is Golden
+Eagle. Can't you see, he has the fragments of his saddle still tied
+round his body. To think of it--and after two years."
+
+Her companion still seemed dense.
+
+"Golden Eagle?" he repeated questioningly. "Golden Eagle?" The name
+seemed familiar but he failed to comprehend.
+
+"Yes, yes," the girl broke out impatiently. "Golden Eagle--Peter
+Retief's horse. The grandest beast that ever stepped the prairie. See,
+he is keeping watch over his master's old
+hiding-place--faithful--faithful to the memory of the dead."
+
+"And this is--is the haunt of Peter Retief," Bill exclaimed, his
+interest centering chiefly upon the yawning valley before him.
+
+"Yes--follow me closely, and we'll get right along down. Say, Bill, we
+must round up that animal."
+
+For a fleeting space the man looked dubious, then, with lips pursed, and
+a quiet look of resolution in his sleepy eyes, he followed in his
+companion's wake. The grandeur--the solitude--the mystery and
+associations, conveyed by the girl's words, of the place were upon him.
+These things had set him thinking.
+
+The tortuous course of that perilous descent occupied their full
+attention, but, at length, they reached the valley in safety. Now,
+indeed, was a wonderful scene disclosed. Far as the eye could reach the
+great hollow extended. Deep and narrow; deep in the heart of the hills
+which towered upon either side to heights, for the most part,
+inaccessible, precipitous. It was a wondrous gulch, hidden and
+unsuspected in the foothills, and protected by those amazing wilds, in
+which the ignorant or unwary must infallibly be lost. It was a perfect
+pasture, a perfect hiding-place, watered by a broad running stream;
+sheltered from all cold and storm. No wonder then that the celebrated
+outlaw, Peter Retief, had chosen it for his haunt and the harborage of
+his ill-gotten stock.
+
+With characteristic method the two set about "roping" the magnificent
+crested horse they had come to capture. They soon found that he was
+wild--timid as a hare. Their task looked as though it would be one of
+some difficulty.
+
+At first Golden Eagle raced recklessly from point to point. And so long
+as this lasted his would-be captors could do little but endeavor to
+"head" him from one to the other, in the hope of getting him within
+range of the rope. Then he seemed suddenly to change his mind, and, with
+a quick double, gallop towards the side of the great chasm. A cry of
+delight escaped the girl as she saw this. The horse was making for the
+mouth of a small cavern which had been boarded over, and, judging by the
+door and window in the woodwork, had evidently been used as a dwelling
+or a stable. It was the same instinct which led him to this place that
+had caused the horse to remain for two years the solitary tenant of the
+valley. The girl understood, and drew her companion's attention. The
+capture at once became easy. Keeping clear of the cave they cautiously
+herded their quarry towards it. Golden Eagle was docile enough until he
+reached the, to him, familiar door. Then, when he found that his
+pursuers still continued to press in upon him, he took alarm, and,
+throwing up his head, with a wild, defiant snort he made a bolt for the
+open.
+
+Instantly two lariats whirled through the air towards the crested neck.
+One missed its mark, but the other fell, true as a gun-shot over the
+small, thoroughbred head. It was Jacky's rope which had found its mark.
+A hitch round the horn of her saddle, and her horse threw himself back
+with her forefeet braced, and faced the captive. Then the rope tightened
+with a jerk which taxed its rawhide strands to their utmost. Instantly
+Golden Eagle, after two years' freedom, stood still; he knew that once
+more he must return to captivity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+TOLD IN BAD MAN'S HOLLOW
+
+
+Jacky held her treasure fast. The choking grip of the running noose
+quieted Golden Eagle into perfect docility. Bunning-Ford was off his
+horse in a moment. Approaching the primitive dwelling he forced open the
+crazy door. It was a patchwork affair and swung back on a pair of hinges
+which lamented loudly as the accumulation of rust were disturbed. The
+interior was essentially suggestive of the half-breed, and his guess at
+its purpose had been a shrewd one. Part storehouse for forage, part
+bedroom, and part stable, it presented a squalid appearance. The portion
+devoted to stable-room was far in the back; the curious apparatus which
+constituted the bed was placed under the window.
+
+The man propped the door open, and then went to relieve the girl from
+the strain of holding her captive. Seizing the lariat he gripped it
+tightly and proceeded to pass slowly, hand over hand, towards the
+beautiful, wild-eyed chestnut. Golden Eagle seemed to understand, for,
+presently, the tension of the rope relaxed. For a moment the animal
+looked fearfully around and snorted, then, as "Lord" Bill determinedly
+attempted to lead him, he threw himself backward. His rebellion lasted
+but for an instant, for, presently, drooping his proud head as though in
+token of submission, he followed his captor quietly into the stable
+which had always been his.
+
+The girl dismounted, and, shortly after, "Lord" Bill rejoined her.
+
+"Well?" she asked, her questioning eyes turned in the direction of the
+cave.
+
+"He's snug enough," Bill replied quietly, glancing at his watch. He
+looked up at the chilly sky, then he seated himself on the edge of a
+boulder which reposed beside the entrance to the stable. "We've just got
+two hours and a half before dark," he added slowly. "That means an hour
+in which to talk." Then he quietly prepared to roll a cigarette. "Now,
+Jacky, let's have your yarn first; after that you shall hear mine."
+
+He leisurely proceeded to pick over the tobacco before rolling it in the
+paper. He was usually particular about his smoke. He centered his
+attention upon the matter now, purposely, so as to give his companion a
+chance to tell her story freely. He anticipated that what she had to
+tell would affect her nearly. But his surmise of the direction in which
+she would be affected proved totally incorrect. Her first words told him
+this.
+
+She hesitated only for the fraction of a second, then she plunged into
+her story with a directness which was always hers.
+
+"This is Bad Man's Hollow--he--he was my half-brother."
+
+So the stories of the gossips were not true. Bill gave a comprehensive
+nod, but offered no comment. Her statement appeared to him to need none.
+It explained itself; she was speaking of Peter Retief.
+
+"Mother was a widow when she married father--widow with one son. Mother
+was a half-breed."
+
+An impressive silence ensued. For a moment a black shadow swept across
+the valley. It was a dense flight of geese winging their way back to the
+north, as the warm sun melted the snow and furnished them with
+well-watered feeding-grounds. The frogs were chirruping loudly down at
+the edge of the stream which trickled its way ever southwards. She went
+on.
+
+"Mother and Peter settled at Foss River at different times. They never
+hit it off. No one knew that there was any relationship between them up
+at the camp. Mother lived in her own shack. Peter located himself
+elsewhere. Guess it's only five years since I learned these things.
+Peter was fifteen years older than I. I take it they made him 'bad' from
+the start. Poor Peter!--still, he was my half-brother."
+
+She conveyed a world of explanation in her last sentence. There was a
+tender, far-away look in her great, sorrowful eyes as she told her jerky
+story. "Lord" Bill allowed himself a side-long glance in her direction,
+then he turned his eyes towards the south end of the valley and
+something very like a sigh escaped him. She had struck a sympathetic
+chord in his heart. He longed to comfort her.
+
+"There's no use in reckoning up Peter's acts. You know 'em as well as I
+do, Bill. He was slick--was Peter," she went on, with an inflection of
+satisfaction. She was returning to a lighter manner as she contemplated
+the cattle-thief's successes. "Cattle, mail-trains, mail-carts--nothing
+came amiss to him. In his own line Peter was a Jo-dandy." Her face
+flushed as she proceeded. The half-breed blood in her was stirred in all
+its passionate strength. "But he'd never have slipped the coyote
+sheriffs or the slick red-coats so long as he did without my help. Say,
+Bill," leaning forward eagerly and peering into his face with her
+beautiful glowing eyes, "for three years I just--just lived! Poor Peter!
+Guess I'm reckoned kind of handy 'round a bunch of steers. There aren't
+many who can hustle me. You know that. All the boys on the round-up know
+that. And why? Because I learnt the business from Peter--and Peter
+taught me to shoot quick and straight. Those three years taught me a
+deal, and I take it those things didn't happen for nothing," with a
+moody introspective gaze. "Those years taught me how to look after
+myself--and my uncle. Say, Bill, what I'm telling you may sicken you
+some. I can't help that. Peter was my brother and blood's thicker than
+water. I wasn't going to let him be hunted down by a lot of bloodthirsty
+coyotes who were no better than he. I wasn't going to let my mother's
+flesh feed the crows from the end of a lariat. I helped Peter to steer
+clear of the law--lynch at that--and if he fell at last, a victim to
+the sucking muck of the muskeg, it was God's judgment and not
+man's--that's good enough for me. I'd do it all again, I guess, if--if
+Peter were alive."
+
+"Peter had some shooting on the account against him," said Bill, without
+raising his eyes from the contemplation of his cigarette. The girl
+smiled. The smile hovered for a moment round her mouth and eyes, and
+then passed, leaving her sweet, dark face bathed in the shadow of
+regret. She understood the drift of his remark but in no way resented
+it.
+
+"No, Bill, I steered clear of that. I'd have shot to save Peter, but it
+never came to that. Whatever shooting Peter did was done on his--lonely.
+I jibbed at a frolic that meant--shooting. Peter never let me dirty my
+hands to that extent. Guess I just helped him and kept him posted. If
+I'd had law, they'd have called me accessory after the fact."
+
+"Lord" Bill pondered. His lazy eyes were half-closed. He looked
+indifferent but his thoughts were flowing fast. This girl's story had
+given a fillup to a wild plan which had almost unconsciously found place
+in his active brain. Now he raised his eyes to her face and was
+astonished at the setness of its expression. She reminded him of those
+women in history whose deeds had, at various periods, shaken the
+foundations of empires. There was a deep, smouldering fire in her eyes,
+for which only the native blood in her veins could account. Her
+beautiful face was clouded beneath a somber shadow which is so often
+accredited as a presage of tragedy. Surely her expression was one of a
+great, passionate nature, of a soul capable of a wondrous love, or a
+wondrous--hate. She had seated herself upon the ground with the careless
+abandon of one used to such a resting-place. Her trim riding-boots were
+displayed from beneath the hem of her coarse dungaree habit. Her Stetson
+hat was pushed back on her head, leaving the broad low forehead exposed.
+Her black waving hair streamed about her face, a perfect framing for
+the Van Dyke coloring of her skin. She was very beautiful.
+
+The man shifted his position.
+
+"Tell me," he went on, gazing over towards where a flock of wild ducks
+had suddenly settled upon a reedy swamp, and were noisily revelling in
+the water, "did your uncle know anything about this?"
+
+"Not a soul on God's earth knew. Did you ever suspect anything?"
+
+Bill shook his head.
+
+"Not a thing. I was as well posted on the subject of Peter as any one.
+Sometimes I thought it curious that old John's stock and my own were
+never interfered with. But I had no suspicion of the truth. Peter's
+relationship to your mother--did the Breeds in the settlement know
+anything of it?"
+
+"No--I alone knew."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The girl looked curiously into her companion's face. The tone of his
+exclamation startled her. She wondered towards what end his questions
+were leading. His face was inscrutable; she gained no inspiration from
+it. There was a short pause. She wondered anxiously how her story had
+affected him in regard to herself. After all, she was only a woman--a
+woman of strong affections and deep feelings. Her hardihood, her mannish
+self-reliance, were but outer coverings, the result of the surroundings
+of her daily life. She feared lest he should turn from her in utter
+loathing.
+
+The Hon. Bunning-Ford had no such thoughts, however. Twenty-four hours
+ago her story might have startled him. But now it was different. His was
+as wild and reckless a nature as her own. Law and order were matters
+which he regarded in the light of personal inclinations. He had seen too
+much of the early life on the prairie to be horrified by the part this
+courageous girl had taken in her blood-relative's interests. Under other
+circumstances "Lord" Bill might well have developed into a "bad man"
+himself. As it was, his sympathies were always with those whose daring
+led them into ways of danger and risk of personal safety.
+
+"How far does this valley extend?" he asked abruptly, stepping over as
+though to obtain a view of the southern extremity of the mysterious
+hollow.
+
+"Guess we reckoned it 300 miles. Dead straight into the heart of the
+mountains, then out again sharply into the foot-hills thirty miles south
+of the border. It comes to an end in Montana."
+
+"And Peter disposed of his stock that way--all by himself?" he asked,
+returning to his seat upon the boulder.
+
+"All by himself," the girl repeated, again wondering at the drift of his
+questions. "My help only extended as far as this place. Peter used to
+fatten his stock right here and then run them down into Montana. Down
+there no one knew where he came from, and so wonderfully is this place
+hidden that he was never traced. There is only one approach to it, and
+that's across the keg. In winter that can be crossed anywhere, but no
+sane persons would trust themselves in the foothills at that time of
+year. For the rest it can only be crossed by the secret path. This
+valley is a perfectly-hidden natural road for illicit traffic."
+
+"Wonderful." The man permitted a smile to spread over his thin, eagle
+face. "Peter's supposed to have made a pile of money."
+
+"Yes, I guess Peter sunk a pile of dollars. He hid his bills right here
+in the valley," Jacky replied, smiling back into the indolent face
+before her. Then her face became serious again. "The secret of its
+hiding-place died with him--it's buried deep down in the reeking keg."
+
+"And you're sure he died in the 'reeking keg'?" There was a sharp
+intonation in the question. The matter seemed to be of importance in the
+story.
+
+Jacky half started at the eagerness with which the question was put. She
+paused for an instant before replying.
+
+"I believe he died there," she said at length, like one weighing her
+words well, "but it was never clearly proved. Most people think that he
+simply cleared out of the country. I picked up his hat close beside the
+path, and the crust of the keg had been broken. Yes, I believe he died
+in the muskeg. Had he lived I should have known."
+
+"But how comes it that Golden Eagle is still alive? Surely Peter would
+never have crossed the keg on foot"
+
+The girl looked perplexed for a moment. But her conviction was plainly
+evident.
+
+"No--he wouldn't have walked. Peter drank some."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Once I saved him from taking the wrong track at the point where the
+path forks. He'd been drinking then. Yes," with a quiet assurance, "I
+think he died in the keg."
+
+Her companion seemed to have come to the end of his cross-examination.
+He suddenly rose from his seat. The chattering of the ducks in the
+distance caused him to turn his head. Then he turned again to the girl
+before him. The indolence had gone from his eyes. His face was set, and
+the firm pursing of his lips spoke of a determination arrived at. He
+gazed down at the recumbent figure upon the ground. There was something
+in his gaze which made the girl lower her eyes and look far out down the
+valley.
+
+"This brother of yours--he was tall and thin?"
+
+The girl nodded.
+
+"Am I right in my recollection of him when I say that he was possessed
+of a dark, dark face, lantern jaws, thin--and high, prominent
+cheek-bones?"
+
+"That's so."
+
+She faced him inquiringly as she answered his eager questions.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+He quickly turned again in the direction of the noisy water-fowl. Their
+rollicking gambols sounded joyously on the brooding atmosphere of the
+place. The wintry chill in the air was fast ousting the balmy breath of
+spring. It was a warning of the lateness of the hour.
+
+"Now listen to me," he went on presently, turning again from the
+contemplation of his weird surroundings. "I lost all that was left to me
+from the wreck of my little ranch this afternoon--no, not to Lablache,"
+as the girl was about to pronounce the hated name, "but," with a wintry
+smile, "to another friend of yours, Pedro Mancha. I also discovered,
+this afternoon, the source of Lablache's phenomenal--luck. He has
+systematically robbed both your uncle and myself--" He broke off with a
+bitter laugh.
+
+"My God!"
+
+The girl had sprung to her feet in her agitation. And a rage
+indescribable flamed into her face. The fury there expressed appalled
+him, and he stood for a moment waiting for it to abate. What terrible
+depths had he delved into? The hidden fires of a passionate nature are
+more easily kept under than checked in their blasting career when once
+the restraining will power is removed. For an instant it seemed that she
+must choke. Then she hurled her feelings into one brief, hissing
+sentence.
+
+"Lablache--I hate him!"
+
+And the man realized that he must continue his story.
+
+"Yes, we lost our money not fairly, but by--cheating. I am ruined, and
+your uncle--" Bill shrugged.
+
+"My uncle--God help him!"
+
+"I do not know the full extent of his losses, Jacky--except that they
+have probably trebled mine."
+
+"But I know to what extent the hound has robbed him," Jacky answered in
+a tone of such bitter hatred as to cause her companion to glance
+uneasily at the passionate young face before him. "I know, only too
+well. And right thoroughly has Lablache done his work. Say, Bill, do you
+know that that skunk holds mortgages on our ranch for two hundred
+thousand dollars? And every bill of it is for poker. For twenty years,
+right through, he has steadily sucked the old man's blood. Slick? Say a
+six-year-old steer don't know more about a branding-iron than does
+Verner Lablache about his business. For every dollar uncle's lost he's
+made him sign a mortgage. Every bit of paper has the old man had to
+redeem in that way. What he's done lately--I mean uncle--I can't say.
+But Lablache held those mortgages nearly a year ago."
+
+"Whew--" "Lord" Bill whistled under his breath. "Gee-whittaker. It's
+worse than I thought. 'Poker' John's losses during the last winter, to
+my knowledge, must have amounted to nearly six figures--the devil!"
+
+"Ruin, ruin, ruin!"
+
+The girl for a moment allowed womanly feeling to overcome her, for, as
+her companion added his last item to the vast sum which she had quoted,
+she saw, in all its horrible nakedness, the truth of her uncle's
+position. Then she suddenly forced back the tears which had struggled
+into her eyes, and, with indomitable courage, faced the catastrophe.
+
+"But can't we fight him--can't we give him--"
+
+"Law? I'm afraid not," Bill interrupted. "Once a mortgage is signed the
+debt is no longer a gambling debt. Law is of no use to us, especially
+here on the prairie. There is only one law which can save us. Lablache
+must disgorge."
+
+"Yes--yes! For every dollar he has stolen let him pay ten."
+
+The passionate fire in her eyes burned more steadily now. It was the
+fire which is unquenchable--the fire of a lasting hate, vengeful,
+terrible. Then her tone dropped to a contemplative soliloquy.
+
+"But how?" she murmured, looking away towards the stream in the heart of
+the valley, as though in search of inspiration.
+
+Bunning-Ford smiled as he heard the half-whispered question. But his
+smile was not pleasant to look upon. All the latent recklessness which
+might have made of him a good soldier or a great scoundrel was roused in
+him. He was passing the boundary which divides the old Adam, which is in
+every man, from the veneer of early training. He was
+mutely--unconsciously--calling to his aid the savage instincts which the
+best of men are not without. His face expressed something of what was
+passing within his active brain, and the girl before him, as she turned
+and watched the working features, usually so placid--indifferent, knew
+that she was to see a side of his character always suspected by her but
+never before made apparent. His thoughts at last found vent in words of
+almost painful intensity.
+
+"How?" he said, repeating the question as though it had been addressed
+to himself. "He shall pay--pay! Everlastingly pay! So long as I have
+life--and liberty, he shall pay!"
+
+Then as if anticipating a request for explanation he told her the means
+by which Lablache had consistently cheated. The girl listened,
+speechless with amazement. She hung upon his every word. At the
+conclusion of his story she put an abrupt question.
+
+"And you gave no sign? He doesn't suspect that you know?"
+
+"He suspects nothing."
+
+"Good. You are real smart, Bill. Yes, shooting's no good. This is no
+case for shooting. What do you propose? I see you mean business."
+
+The man was still smiling but his smile had suddenly changed to one of
+kindly humor.
+
+"First of all Jacky," he said, taking a step towards her, "I can do
+nothing without your help. I propose that you share this task with me.
+No, no, I don't mean in that way," as she commenced to assure him of her
+assistance. "What I mean is that--that I love you, dear. I want you to
+give me the right to protect--your uncle."
+
+He finished up with his hands stretched out towards her. Golden Eagle
+stirred in his stable, and the two heard him whinny as if in approval.
+Then as the girl made no answer Bill went on: "Jacky, I am a ruined man.
+I have nothing, but I love you better than life itself. We now have a
+common purpose in life. Let us work together."
+
+His voice sank to a tender whisper. He loved this motherless girl who
+was fighting the battle of life single-handed against overwhelming
+odds, with all the strength of his nature. He had loved her ever since
+she had reached woman's estate. In asking for a return of his affections
+now he fully realized the cruelty of his course. He knew that the
+future--his future--was to be given up to the pursuit of a terrible
+revenge. And he knew that, in linking herself with him, she would
+perforce be dragged into whatever wrong-doing his contemplated revenge
+might lead him. And yet he dared not pause. It all seemed so plain--so
+natural--that they should journey through the crooked, paths of the
+future together. Was she not equally determined upon a terrible revenge?
+
+He waited in patience for his answer. Suddenly she looked up into his
+face and gently placed her hands in his. Her answer came with simple
+directness.
+
+"Do you really, Bill? I am glad--yes, glad right through. I love you,
+too. Say, you're sure you don't think badly of me because--because I'm
+Peter's sister?"
+
+There was a smiling, half-tearful look in her eyes--those expressive
+eyes which, but a moment before, had burnt with a vengeful fire--as she
+asked the question. After all her nature was wondrously simple.
+
+"Why should I, dear?" he replied, bending and kissing the gauntleted
+hands which rested so lovingly in his. "My life has scarcely been a
+Garden of Eden before the Fall. And I don't suppose my future, even
+should I escape the laws of man, is likely to be most creditable. Your
+past is your own--I have no right nor wish to criticise. Henceforth we
+are united in a common cause. Our hand is turned against one whose power
+in this part of the country is almost absolute. When we have wrested his
+property from him, to the uttermost farthing, we will cry quits--"
+
+"And on the day that sees Lablache's downfall, Bill, I will become your
+wife."
+
+There was a pause. Then Bill drew her towards him and they sealed the
+compact with one long embrace. They were roused to the matters of the
+moment by another whinny from Golden Eagle, who was chafing at his
+forced imprisonment.
+
+The two stood back from one another, hand in hand, and smiled as they
+listened to the tuneful plaint. Then the man unfolded a wonderful plan
+to this girl whom he loved. Her willing ears drank in the details like
+one whose heart is set with a great purpose. They also talked of their
+love in their own practical way. There was little display of sentiment.
+They understood without that. Their future was not alluring, unless
+something of the man's strange plan appealed to the wild nature of the
+prairie which, by association, has somehow become affiliated with
+theirs. In that quiet, evening-lit valley these two people arranged to
+set aside the laws of man and deal out justice as they understood it. An
+eye for an eye--a tooth for a tooth; fortune favoring, a cent, per cent,
+interest in each case. The laws of the prairie, in those days always
+uncertain, were more often governed by human passions than the calm
+equity of unbiased jurymen. And who shall say that their idea of justice
+was wrong? Two "wrongs," it has been said, do not make one "right." But
+surely it is not a human policy when smote upon one cheek to turn the
+other for a similar chastisement.
+
+"Then we leave Golden Eagle where he is," said Jacky, as she remounted
+her horse and they prepared to return home.
+
+"Yes. I will see to him," Bill replied, urging his horse into a canter
+towards the winding ascent which was to take them home.
+
+The ducks frolicking in their watery playground chattered and flapped
+their heavy wings. The frogs in their reedy beds croaked and chirruped
+without ceasing. And who shall say how much they had heard, or had seen,
+or knew of that compact sealed in Bad Man's Hollow?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+LABLACHE'S "COUP"
+
+
+Lablache was seated in a comfortable basket chair in his little back
+office. He preferred a basket chair--he knew its value. He had tried
+other chairs of a less yielding nature, but they were useless to support
+his weight; he had broken too many, and they were expensive--there is
+nothing more durable than a strong basket chair. Lablache appreciated
+strength combined with durability, especially when the initial outlay
+was reduced to a minimum.
+
+His slippered feet were posted on the lower part of the self-feeding
+stove and he gazed down, deep in thought, at the lurid glow of the fire
+shining through the mica sides of the firebox.
+
+A clock was ticking away with that peculiar, vibrating aggressiveness
+which characterizes the cheap American "alarm." The bare wood of the
+desk aggravated the sound, and, in the stillness of the little room, the
+noise pounded exasperatingly on the ear-drums. From time to time he
+turned his great head, and his lashless eyes peered over at the paper
+dial of the clock. Once or twice he stirred with a suggestion of
+impatience. At times his heavy breathing became louder and shorter, and
+he seemed about to give expression to some irritable thought.
+
+At last his bulk heaved and he removed his feet from the stove. Then he
+slowly raised himself from the depths of the yielding chair. His
+slippered feet shuffled over the floor as he moved towards the window.
+The blind was down, but he drew it aside and wiped the steam from the
+glass pane with his soft, fat hand. The night was black--he could see
+nothing of the outside world. It was nearly an hour since he had left
+the saloon where he had been playing poker with John Allandale. He
+appeared to be waiting for some one, and he wanted to go to bed.
+
+Once more he returned to his complaining chair and lowered himself into
+it. The minutes slipped by. Lablache did not want to smoke; he felt that
+he must do something to soothe his impatience, so he chewed at the
+quicks of his finger-nails.
+
+Presently there came a tap at the window. The money-lender ponderously
+rose, and, cautiously opening the door, admitted the dark, unkempt form
+of Pedro Mancha. There was no greeting; neither spoke until Lablache had
+again secured the door. Then the money-lender turned his fishy eyes and
+mask-like face to the newcomer. He did not suggest that his visitor
+should sit down. He merely looked with his cold, cruel eyes, and spoke.
+
+"Well?--been drinking."
+
+The latter part of his remark was an assertion. He knew the Mexican
+well. The fellow had an expressive countenance, unlike most of his race,
+and the least sign of drink was painfully apparent upon it. The man was
+not drunk but his wild eyes testified to his recent libations.
+
+"Guess you've hit it right thar," he retorted indifferently.
+
+It was noticeable that this man had adopted the high-pitched, keen tone
+and pronounced accent of the typical "South-Westerner." In truth he was
+a border Mexican; a type of man closely allied to the "greaser." He was
+a perfect scoundrel, who had doubtless departed from his native land for
+the benefit of that fair but swarming hornet's nest.
+
+"It's a pity when you have business on hand you can't leave that 'stuff'
+alone."
+
+Lablache made no effort to conceal his contempt. He even allowed his
+mask-like face to emphasize his words.
+
+"You're almighty pertickler, mister. You ask for dirty work to be done,
+an' when that dirty work's done, gorl-darn-it you croak like a
+flannel-mouthed temperance lecturer. Guess I came hyar to talk straight
+biz. Jest leave the temperance track, an' hit the main trail."
+
+Pedro's face was not pretty to look upon. The ring of white round the
+pupils of his eyes gave an impression of insanity or animal ferocity.
+The latter was his chief characteristic. His face was thin and scored
+with scars, mainly long and narrow. These, in a measure, testified to
+his past. His mouth, half hidden beneath a straggling mustache, was his
+worst feature. One can only liken it to a blubber-lipped gash, lined
+inside with two rows of yellow fangs, all in a more or less bad state of
+decay.
+
+The two men eyed one another steadily for a moment. Lablache could in no
+way terrorize this desperado. Like all his kind this man was ready to
+sell his services to any master, provided the forthcoming price of such
+services was sufficiently exorbitant. He was equally ready to play his
+employer up should any one else offer a higher price. But Lablache, when
+dealing with such men, took no chances. He rarely employed this sort of
+man, preferring to do his own dirty work, but when he did, he knew it
+was policy to be liberal. Pedro served him well as a rule, consequently
+the Mexican was enabled to ruffle it with the best in the settlement,
+whilst people wondered where he got his money from. Somehow they never
+thought of Lablache being the source of this man's means; the
+money-lender was not fond of parting.
+
+"You are right, I am particular. When I pay for work to be done I don't
+want gassing over a bar. I know what you are when the whisky is in you."
+
+Lablache stood with his great back to the fire watching his man from
+beneath his heavy lids. Bad as he was himself the presence of this man
+filled him with loathing. Possibly deep down, somewhere in that organ he
+was pleased to consider his heart, he had a faint glimmer of respect for
+an honest man. The Mexican laughed harshly.
+
+"Guess all you know of me, mister, wouldn't make a pile o' literature.
+But say, what's the game to-night?"
+
+Lablache was gnawing his fingers.
+
+"How much did you take from the Honorable?" he asked sharply.
+
+"You told me to lift his boodle. Time was short--he wouldn't play for
+long."
+
+"I'm aware of that. How much?"
+
+Lablache's tone was abrupt and peremptory. Mancha was trying to estimate
+what he should be paid for his work.
+
+"See hyar, I guess we ain't struck no deal yet. What do you propose to
+pay me?"
+
+The Mexican was sharp but he was no match for his employer. He fancied
+he saw a good deal over this night's work.
+
+"You played on paper, I know," said the money-lender, quietly. He was
+quite unmoved by the other's display of cunning. It pleased him rather
+than otherwise. He knew he held all the cards in his hands--he generally
+did in dealing with men of this stamp. "To you, the amounts he lost are
+not worth the paper they are written on. You could never realize them.
+He couldn't meet 'em."
+
+Lablache leisurely took a pinch of snuff from his snuff-box. He coughed
+and sneezed voluminously. His indifferent coolness, his air of
+patronage, aggravated the Mexican while it alarmed him. The deal he
+anticipated began to assume lesser proportions.
+
+"Which means, I take it, you've a notion you'd like the feel of those
+same papers."
+
+Mancha had come to drive a bargain. He was aware that the I.O.U.'s he
+held would take some time to realize on, in the proper quarter, but, at
+the same time, he was quite aware of the fact that Bunning-Ford would
+ultimately meet them.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders with apparent indifference--he meant to
+have them.
+
+"What do you want for the debts? I am prepared to buy--at a reasonable
+figure."
+
+The Mexican propped himself comfortably upon the corner of the desk.
+
+"Say, guess we're talkin' biz, now. His 'lordship' is due to ante up the
+trifle of seven thousand dollars--"
+
+The fellow was rummaging in an inside pocket for the slips of paper. His
+eyes never left his companion's face. The amount startled Lablache, but
+he did not move a muscle.
+
+"You did your work well, Pedro," he said, allowing himself, for the
+first time in this conversation, to recognize that the Mexican had a
+name. He warmed towards a man who was capable of doing another down for
+such a sum in such a short space of time. "I'll treat you well. Two
+thousand spot cash, and you hand over the I.O.U.'s. What say? Is it a
+go?"
+
+"Be damned to you. Two thousand for a certain seven? Not me. Say, what
+d'ye do with the skin when you eat a bananny? Sole your boots with it?
+Gee-whiz! You do fling your bills around."
+
+The Mexican laughed derisively as he jammed the papers back into his
+pocket. But he knew that he would have to sell at the other's price.
+
+Lablache moved heavily towards his desk. Selecting a book he opened it
+at a certain page.
+
+"You can keep them if you like. But you may as well understand your
+position. What's Bunning-Ford worth? What's his ranch worth?"
+
+The other suggested a figure much below the real value.
+
+"It's worth more than that. Fifty thousand if it's worth a cent,"
+Lablache said expansively. "I don't want to do you, my friend, but as
+you said we're talking business now. Here is his account with me, you
+see," pointing to the entries. "I hold thirty-five thousand on first
+mortgage and twenty thousand on bill of sale. In all fifty-five
+thousand, and his interest twelve months in arrears. Now, you refuse to
+part with those papers at my price, and I'll sell him up. You will then
+get not one cent of your money."
+
+The money-lender permitted himself to smile a grim, cold smile. He had
+been careful to make no mention of Bunning-Ford's further assets. He had
+quite forgotten to speak of a certain band of cattle which he knew his
+intended victim to possess. It was a well-known thing that Lablache knew
+more of the financial affairs of the people of the settlement than any
+one else; doubtless the Mexican thought only of "Lord" Bill's ranch.
+Mancha shifted his position uneasily. But there was a cunning look on
+his face as he retorted swiftly,--
+
+"You're a'mighty hasty to lay your hands on his reckoning. How's it that
+you're ready to part two thou' for 'em?"
+
+There was a moment's silence as the two men eyed each other. It seemed
+as if each were endeavoring to fathom the other's thoughts. Then the
+money-lender spoke, and his voice conveyed a concentration of hate that
+bit upon the air with an incisiveness which startled his companion.
+
+"Because I intend to crush him as I would a rattlesnake. Because I wish
+to ruin him so that he will be left in my debt. So that I can hound him
+from this place by holding that debt over his head. It is worth two
+thousand to me to possess that power. Now, will you part?"
+
+This explanation appealed to the worst side of the Mexican's nature.
+This hatred was after his own heart. Lablache was aware that such would
+be the case. That is why he made it. He was accustomed to play upon the
+feelings of people with whom he dealt--as well as their pocket. Pedro
+Mancha grinned complacently. He thought he understood his employer.
+
+"Hand over the bills. Guess I'll part. The price is slim, but it's not a
+bad deal."
+
+Lablache oozed over to the safe. He opened it, keeping one heavy eye
+upon his companion. He took no chances--he trusted no one, especially
+Pedro Mancha. Presently he returned with a roll of notes. It contained
+the exact amount. The Mexican watched him hungrily as he counted out the
+green-backed bills. His lips moistened beneath his mustache--his eyes
+looked wilder than ever. Lablache understood his customer thoroughly. A
+loaded revolver was in his own coat pocket. It is probable that the
+brown-faced desperado knew this.
+
+At last the money-lender held out the money. He held out both hands, one
+to give and the other to receive. Pedro passed him the I.O.U.'s and took
+the bills. One swift glance assured Lablache that the coveted papers
+were all there. Then he pointed to the door.
+
+"Our transaction is over. Go!"
+
+He had had enough of his companion. He had no hesitation in thus
+peremptorily dismissing him.
+
+"You're in a pesky hurry to get rid of me. See hyar, pard, you'd best be
+civil. Your dealin's ain't a sight cleaner than mine."
+
+"I'm waiting." Lablache's tone was coldly commanding. His lashless eyes
+gazed steadily into the other's face. Something the Mexican saw in them
+impelled him towards the door. He moved backwards, keeping his face
+turned towards the money-lender. At this moment Lablache was at his
+best. His was a dominating personality. There was no cowardice in his
+nature--at least no physical cowardice. Doubtless, had it come to a
+struggle where agility was required, he would have fallen an easy prey
+to his lithe companion; but with him, somehow, it never did come to a
+struggle. He had a way with him that chilled any such thought that a
+would-be assailant might have. Will and unflinching courage are splendid
+assets. And, amongst others, this man possessed both.
+
+Mancha slunk back to the door, and, fumbling at the lock, opened it and
+passed out. Lablache instantly whipped out a revolver, and, stepping
+heavily on one side, advanced to the door, paused and listened. He was
+well under cover. The door was open. He was behind it. He knew better
+than to expose himself in the light for Mancha to make a target of him
+from without. Then he kicked the door to. Making a complete circuit of
+the walls of the office he came to the opposite side of the door, where
+he swiftly locked and bolted it. Then he drew an iron shutter across the
+light panelling and secured it.
+
+"Good," he muttered, as, sucking in a heavy breath, he returned to the
+stove and turned his back to it. "It's as well to understand Mexican
+nature."
+
+Then he lounged into his basket chair and rubbed his fleshy hands
+reflectively. There was a triumphant look upon his repulsive features.
+
+"Quite right, friend Pedro, it's not a bad deal," he said to himself,
+blinking at the red light of the fire. "Not half bad. Seven thousand
+dollars for two thousand dollars, and every cent of it realizable." He
+shook with inward mirth. "The Hon. William Bunning-Ford will now have to
+disgorge every stick of his estate. Good, good!"
+
+Then he relapsed into deep thought. Presently he roused himself from his
+reverie and prepared for bed.
+
+"But I'll give him a chance. Yes, I'll give him a chance," he muttered,
+as, after undergoing the simple operation of removing his coat, he
+stretched himself upon his bed and drew the blankets about him. "If
+he'll consent to renounce any claim, fancied or otherwise, he may have
+to Joaquina Allandale's regard I'll refrain from selling him up. Yes,
+Verner Lablache will forego his money--for a time."
+
+The great bed shook as the monumental money-lender suppressed a chuckle.
+Then he turned over, and his stertorous inhalations soon suggested that
+the great man slept.
+
+Shylock, the Jew, determined on having his pound of flesh. But a woman
+outwitted him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"AUNT" MARGARET REFLECTS
+
+
+It was almost dark when Jacky returned to the ranch. She had left "Lord"
+Bill at the brink of the great keg, whence he had returned to his own
+place. Her first thought, on entering the house, was for the letter
+which she had left for her uncle. It was gone. She glanced round the
+room uncertainly. Then she stood gazing into the stove, while she idly
+drummed with her gauntleted fingers upon the back of a chair. She had as
+yet removed neither her Stetson hat nor her gauntlets.
+
+Her strong, dark face was unusually varying in its expression. Possibly
+her thoughts were thus indexed. Now, as she stood watching the play of
+the fire, her great, deep eyes would darken with a grave, almost anxious
+expression; again they would smile with a world of untold happiness in
+their depths. Again they would change, in a flash, to a hard, cold gleam
+of hatred and unyielding purpose; then slowly, a tender expression, such
+as that of a mother for Her new-born babe, would creep into them and
+shine down into the depths of the fire with a world of sweet sympathy.
+But through all there was a tight compression of the lips, which spoke
+of the earnest purpose which governed her thoughts; a slight pucker of
+the brows, which surely told of a great concentration of mind.
+
+Presently she roused herself, and, walking to where a table-bell stood,
+rang sharply upon it. Her summons was almost immediately answered by the
+entry of a servant.
+
+Jacky turned as the door opened, and fired an abrupt question.
+
+"Has Uncle John been in, Mamie?"
+
+The girl's face had resumed its usual strong, kindly expression.
+Whatever was hidden behind that calm exterior, she had no intention of
+giving a chance observer any clew to it.
+
+"No, miss," the servant replied, in that awestruck tone which domestics
+are apt to use when sharply interrogated. She was an intelligent-looking
+girl. Her dark skin and coarse black hair pronounced her a half-breed.
+Her mistress had said "blood is thicker than water." All the domestics
+under Jacky's charge hailed from the half-breed camp.
+
+"Was my message delivered to him?"
+
+Unconcernedly as she spoke she waited with some anxiety for the answer.
+
+"Oh, yes, miss. Silas delivered it himself. The master was in company
+with Mr. Lablache and the doctor, miss," added the girl, discreetly.
+
+"And what did he say?"
+
+"He sent Silas for the letter, miss."
+
+"He didn't say what time he would return, I suppose?"
+
+"No, miss--" She hesitated and fumbled at the door handle.
+
+"Well?" as the girl showed by her attitude that there was something she
+had left unsaid.
+
+Jacky's question rang acutely in the quiet room.
+
+"Silas--" began the girl, with a deprecating air of unbelief--"you know
+what strange notions he takes--he said--"
+
+The girl stopped in confusion under the steady gaze of her mistress.
+
+"Speak up, girl," exclaimed Jacky, impatiently. "What is it?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, miss," the girl blurted out desperately. "Only Silas said
+as the master didn't seem well like."
+
+"Ah! That will do." Then, as the girl still stood at the door, "You can
+go."
+
+The dismissal was peremptory, and the half-breed had no choice but to
+depart. She had hoped to have heard something interesting, but her
+mistress was never given to being communicative with servants.
+
+When the door had closed behind the half-breed Jacky turned again
+towards the stove. Again she was plunged in deep thought. This time
+there could be no mistake as to its tenor. Her heart was racked with an
+anxiety which was not altogether new to it. The sweet face was pale and
+her eyelids flickered ominously. The servant's veiled meaning was quite
+plain to her. Brave, hardy as this girl of the prairie was, the fear
+that was ever in her heart had suddenly assumed the proportions of a
+crushing reality. She loved her uncle with an affection that was almost
+maternal. It was the love of a strong, resolute nature for one of a
+kindly but weak disposition. She loved the gray-headed old man, whose
+affection had made her life one long, long day of happiness, with a
+tenderness which no recently-acquired faults of his could alienate.
+He--and now another--was her world. A world in which it was her joy to
+dwell. And now--now; what of the present? Racked by losses brought about
+through the agency of his all-absorbing passion, the weak old man was
+slowly but surely taking to drowning his consciousness of the appalling
+calamity which he had consistently set to work to bring about, and which
+in his lucid moments he saw looming heavily over his house, in drink.
+She had watched him with the never-failing eye of love, and had seen, to
+her horror, the signs she so dreaded. She could face disaster stoically,
+she could face danger unflinchingly, but this moral wrecking of the old
+man, who had been more to her than a father, was more than she could
+bear. Two great tears welled up into her beautiful, somber eyes and
+slowly rolled down her cheeks. She bowed like a willow bending to the
+force of the storm.
+
+Her weakness was only momentary, however; her courage, bred from the
+wildness of her life surroundings, rose superior to her feminine
+weakness. She dashed her gloved hands across her eyes and wiped the
+tears away. She felt that she must be doing--not weeping. Had not she
+sealed a solemn compact with her lover? She must to work without delay.
+
+She glanced round the room. Her gaze was that of one who wishes to
+reassure herself. It was as if the old life had gone from her and she
+was about to embark on a career new--foreign to her. A career in which
+she could see no future--only the present. She felt like one taking a
+long farewell to a life which had been fraught with nothing but delight.
+The expression of her face told of the pain of the parting. With a heavy
+sigh she passed out of the room--out into the chill night air, where
+even the welcome sounds of the croaking frogs and the lowing cattle were
+not. Where nothing was to cheer her for the work which in the future
+must be hers. Something of that solemn night entered her soul. The gloom
+of disaster was upon her.
+
+It was only a short distance to Dr. Abbot's house. The darkness of the
+night was no hindrance to the girl. Hither she made her way with the
+light, springing step of one whose mind is made up to a definite
+purpose.
+
+She found Mrs. Abbot in. The little sitting-room in the doctor's house
+was delightfully homelike and comfortable. There was nothing pretentious
+about it--just solid comfort. And the great radiating stove in the
+center of it smelt invitingly warm to the girl as she came in out of the
+raw night air. Mrs. Abbot was alternating between a basket of sewing and
+a well-worn, cheap-edition novel. The old lady was waiting with
+patience, the outcome of experience, for the return of her lord to his
+supper.
+
+"Well, 'Aunt' Margaret," said Jacky, entering with the confidence of an
+assured welcome, "I've come over for a good gossip. There's nobody at
+home--up there," with a nod in the direction of the ranch.
+
+"My dear child, I'm so pleased," exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, coming forward
+from her rather rigid seat, and kissing the girl on both cheeks with
+old-fashioned cordiality. "Come and sit by the stove--yes, take that
+hideous hat off, which, by the way, I never could understand your
+wearing. Now, when John and I were first en--"
+
+"Yes, yes, dear. I know what you're going to say," interrupted the girl,
+smiling in spite of the dull aching at her heart. She knew how this
+sweet old lady lived in the past, and she also knew how, to a
+sympathetic ear, she loved to pour out the delights of memory from a
+heart overflowing with a strong affection for the man of her choice.
+Jacky had come here to talk of other matters, and she knew that when
+"Aunt" Margaret liked she could be very shrewd and practical.
+
+Something in the half-wistful smile of her companion brought the old
+lady quickly back from the realms of recollection, and a pair of keen,
+kindly eyes met the steady gray-black orbs of the girl.
+
+"Ah, Jacky, my child, we of the frivolous sex are always being forced
+into considering the mundane matters of everyday life here at Foss
+River. What is it, dear? I can see by your face that you are worrying
+over something."
+
+The girl threw herself into an easy chair, drawn up to the glowing stove
+with careful forethought by the old lady. Mrs. Abbot reseated herself in
+the straight-backed chair she usually affected. She carefully put her
+book on one side and took up some darning, assiduously inserting the
+needle but without further attempt at work. It was something to fix her
+attention on whilst talking. Old Mrs. Abbot always liked to be able to
+occupy her hands when talking seriously. And Jacky's face told her that
+this was a moment for serious conversation.
+
+"Where's the Doc?" the girl asked without preamble. She knew, of course,
+but she used the question by way of making a beginning.
+
+The old lady imperceptibly straightened her back. She now anticipated
+the reason of her companion's coming. She glanced over the top of a pair
+of gold _pince-nez_, which she had just settled comfortably upon the
+bridge of her pretty, broad nose.
+
+"He's down at the saloon playing poker. Why, dear?"
+
+Her question was so innocent, but Jacky was not for a moment deceived by
+its tone. The girl smiled plaintively into the fire. There was no
+necessity for her to disguise her feelings before "Aunt" Margaret, she
+knew. But her loyal nature shrank from flaunting her uncle's weaknesses
+before even this kindly soul. She kept her fencing attitude a little
+longer, however.
+
+"Who is he playing with?" Jacky raised a pair of inquiring gray eyes to
+her companion's face.
+
+"Your uncle and--Lablache."
+
+The shrewd old eyes watched the girl's face keenly. But Jacky gave no
+sign.
+
+"Will you send for him, 'Aunt' Margaret?" said the girl, quietly.
+"Without letting him know that I am here," she added, as an
+afterthought.
+
+"Certainly, dear," the old lady replied, rising with alacrity. "Just
+wait a moment while I send word. Keewis hasn't gone to his teepee yet. I
+set him to clean some knives just now. He can go. These Indians are
+better messengers than they are domestics." Mrs. Abbot bustled out of
+the room.
+
+She returned a moment later, and, drawing her chair beside that of the
+girl, seated herself and rested one soft white hand on those of her
+companion, which were reposing clasped in the lap of her dungaree skirt.
+
+"Now, tell me, dear--tell me all about it--I know, it is your uncle."
+
+The sympathy of her tone could never have been conveyed in mere words.
+This woman's heart expressed its kindliness in voice and eyes. There was
+no resisting her, and Jacky made no effort to do so.
+
+For one instant there flashed into the girl's face a look of utter
+distress. She had come purposely to talk plainly to the woman whom she
+had lovingly dubbed "Aunt Margaret," but she found it very hard when it
+came to the point, She cast about in her mind for a beginning, then
+abandoned the quest and blurted out lamely the very thing from which she
+most shrank.
+
+"Say, auntie, you've observed uncle lately--I mean how strange he is?
+You've noticed how often, now, he is--is not himself?"
+
+"Whisky," said the old lady, uncompromisingly. "Yes, dear, I have. It is
+quite the usual thing to smell' old man Smith's vile liquor when John
+Allandale is about. I'm glad you've spoken. I did not like to say
+anything to you about it. John's on a bad trail."
+
+"Yes, and a trail with a long, downhill gradient," replied Jacky, with a
+rueful little smile. "Say, aunt," she went on, springing suddenly to her
+feet and confronting the old lady's mildly-astonished gaze, "isn't there
+anything we can do to stop him? What is it? This poker and whisky are
+ruining him body and soul. Is the whisky the result of his losses? Or is
+the madness for a gamble the result of the liquor?"
+
+"Neither the one--nor the other, my dear. It is--Lablache."
+
+The older woman bent over her darning, and the needle passed, rippling,
+round a "potato" in the sock which was in her lap. Her eyes were
+studiously fixed upon the work.
+
+"Lablache--Lablache! It is always Lablache, whichever way I turn.
+Gee--but the whole country reeks of him. I tell you right here, aunt,
+that man's worse than scurvy in our ranching world. Everybody and
+everything in Foss River seems to be in his grip."
+
+"Excepting a certain young woman who refuses to be ensnared."
+
+The words were spoken quite casually. But Jacky started. Their meaning
+was driven straight home. She looked down upon the bent, gray head as if
+trying to penetrate to the thought that was passing within. There was a
+moment's impressive silence. The clock ticked loudly in the silence of
+the room. A light wind was whistling rather shrilly outside, round the
+angles of the house.
+
+"Go on, auntie," said the girl, slowly. "You haven't said enough--yet. I
+guess you're thinking mighty--deeply."
+
+Mrs. Abbot looked up from her work. She was smiling, but behind that
+smile there was a strange gravity in the expression of her eyes.
+
+"There is nothing more to say at present." Then she added, in a tone
+from which all seriousness had vanished, "Hasn't Lablache ever asked you
+to marry him?"
+
+A light was beginning to dawn upon the girl.
+
+"Yes--why?"
+
+"I thought so." It was now Mrs. Abbot's turn to rise and confront her
+companion. And she did so with the calm manner of one who is assured
+that what she is about to say cannot be refuted. Her kindly face had
+lost nothing of its sweet expression, only there was something in it
+which seemed to be asking a mute question, whilst her words conveyed the
+statement of a case as she knew it. "You dear, foolish people. Can you
+not see what is going on before your very eyes, or must a stupid old
+woman like myself explain what is patent to the veriest fool in the
+settlement? Lablache is the source of your uncle's trouble, and,
+incidentally, you are the incentive. I have watched--I have little else
+to do in Foss River--you all for years past, and there is little that I
+could not tell you about any of you, as far as the world sees you.
+Lablache has been a source of a world of thought to me. The business
+side of him is patent to everybody. He is hard, flinty, tyrannical--even
+unscrupulous. I am telling you nothing new, I know. But there is another
+side to his character which some of you seem to ignore. He is capable of
+strong passions--ay, very strong passions. He has conceived a passion
+for you. I will call it by no other name in such an unholy brute as
+Lablache. He wishes to marry _you--he means to marry you_."
+
+The silver-haired old lady had worked herself up to an unusual
+vehemence. She paused after accentuating her last words. Jacky, taking
+advantage of the break, dropped in a question.
+
+"But--how does this affect my uncle?"
+
+"Aunt" Margaret sniffed disdainfully and resettled the glasses which, in
+the agitation of the moment, had slipped from her nose.
+
+"Of course it affects your uncle," she continued more quietly. "Now
+listen and I will explain." Once more these two seated themselves and
+"Aunt" Margaret again plunged into her story.
+
+"Sometimes I catch myself speculating as to how it comes about that you
+have inspired this passion in such a man as Lablache," she began,
+glancing into the somberly beautiful face beside her. "I should have
+expected that mass of flesh and money--he always reminds me of a
+jelly-fish, my dear--ugh!--to have wished to take to himself one of your
+gaudy butterflies from New York or London for a wife; not a simple child
+of the prairie who is more than half a wild--wild savage." She smiled
+lovingly into the girl's face. "You see these coarse money-grubbers
+always prefer their pills well gilded, and, as a rule, their matrimonial
+pills need a lot of gilding to bring them up to the standard of what
+they think a wife should be. However, it was not long before it became
+plain to me that he wished to marry you. He may be a master of finance;
+he may disguise his feelings--if he has any--in business, so that the
+shrewdest observer can discover no vulnerable point in his armor of
+dissimulation. But when it comes to matters pertaining
+to--to--love--quite the wrong word in his case, my dear--these men are
+as babes; worse, they are fools. When Lablache makes up his mind to a
+purpose he generally accomplishes his end--"
+
+"In business," suggested Jacky, moodily.
+
+"Just so--in business, my dear. In matters matrimonial it may be
+different. But I doubt his failure in that," went on Mrs. Abbot, with a
+decided snap of her expressive mouth. "He will try by fair means or
+foul, and, if I know anything of him, he will never relinquish his
+purpose. He asked you to marry him--and of course you refused, quite
+natural and right. He will not risk another refusal from you--these
+people consider themselves very sensitive, my dear--so he will attempt
+to accomplish his end by other means--means much more congenial to him,
+the--the beast. There now, I've said it, my dear. The doctor tells me
+that he is quite the most skilful player at poker that he has ever come
+across."
+
+"I guess that's so," said the girl, with a dark, ironical smile.
+
+"And that his luck is phenomenal," the old lady went on, without
+appearing to notice the interruption. "Very well. Your uncle, the old
+fool--excuse me, my dear--has done nothing but gamble all his life. The
+doctor says that he believes John has never been known to win more than
+about once in a month's play, no matter with whom he plays. You know--we
+all know--that for years he has been in the habit of raising loans from
+this monumental cuttle-fish to settle his losses. And you can trust that
+individual to see that these loans are well secured. John Allandale is
+reputed very rich, but the doctor assures me that were Lablache to
+foreclose his mortgages a very, very big slice of your uncle's worldly
+goods would be taken to meet his debts.
+
+"Now comes the last stage of the affair," she went on, with a sage
+little shake of the head. "How long ago is it since Lablache proposed to
+you? But there, you need not tell me. It was a little less than a year
+ago--wasn't it?"
+
+Her companion nodded her head. She wondered how "Aunt" Margaret had
+guessed it. She had never told a soul herself. The shrewd little old
+lady was filling her with wonder. The careful manner in which she had
+pieced facts together and argued them out with herself revealed to her
+a cleverness and observation she would never, in spite of the kindly
+soul's counsels, have given her credit for.
+
+"Yes, I knew I was right," said Mrs. Abbot, complacently. "Just about
+the time when Lablache began seriously to play poker--about the time
+when his phenomenal luck set in, to the detriment of your uncle. Yes, I
+am well posted," as the girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. "The
+doctor tells me a great deal--especially about your uncle, dear. I
+always like to know what is going on. And now to bring my long
+explanation to an end. Don't you see how Lablache intends to marry you?
+Your uncle's losses this winter have been so terribly heavy--and all to
+Lablache. Lablache holds the whip hand of him. A request from Lablache
+becomes a command--or the crash."
+
+"But how about the Doc," asked Jacky, quickly. "He plays with
+them--mostly?"
+
+Mrs. Abbot shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"The doctor can take care of himself. He's cautious, and
+besides--Lablache has no wish to win his money."
+
+"But surely he must lose? Say, auntie, dear, it's not possible to play
+against Lablache's luck without losing--some."
+
+"Well, dear, I can't say I know much of the game," with some perplexity,
+"but the doctor assures me that Lablache never hits him hard. Often and
+often when the 'pot' rests between them Lablache will throw down his
+hand--which goes to show that he does not want to take his money."
+
+"An' I reckon goes to show that he's bucking dead against Uncle John,
+only. Yes, I see."
+
+The little gray head again bent over the darning, which had lain almost
+untouched in her lap during her long recital. Now she resolutely drew
+the darning yarn through the soft wool of the sock and re-inserted the
+needle. The girl beside her bent an eager face before her, and, resting
+her chin upon her hands, propped her elbows on her knees.
+
+"Yes, auntie, I know," Jacky went on thoughtfully. "Lablache means to
+put this marriage with me right through. I see it all. But say,"
+bringing one of her brown hands down forcibly upon that of her
+companion, which was concealed in the foot of the woolen sock, and
+gripping it with nervous strength, "I guess he's reckoned without his
+bride. I'm not going to marry Lablache, auntie, dear, and you can bet
+your bottom dollar I'm not going to let him ruin uncle. All I want to do
+is to stop uncle drinking. That is what scares me most."
+
+"My child, Lablache is the cause of that. The same as he is the cause of
+all troubles in Foss River. Your uncle realizes the consequences of the
+terrible losses he has incurred. He knows, only too well, that he is
+utterly in the money-lender's power. He knows he must go on playing,
+vainly endeavoring to recover himself, and with each fresh loss he
+drinks deeper to smother his fears and conscience. It is the result of
+the weakness of his nature--a weakness which I have always known would
+sooner or later lead to his undoing. Jacky, girl, I fear you will one
+day have to marry Lablache or your uncle's ruin will be certainly
+accomplished."
+
+Mrs. Abbot's face was very serious now. She pitied from the bottom of
+her heart this motherless girl who had come to her, in spite of her
+courage and almost mannish independence, for that sympathy and advice
+which, at certain moments, the strongest woman cannot do without. She
+knew that all she had said was right, and even if her story could do no
+material good it would at least have the effect of putting the girl on
+her guard. In spite of her shrewdness Mrs. Abbot could never quite
+fathom her _protegee_. And even now, as she gazed into the girl's face,
+she was wondering how--in what manner--the narration of her own
+observations would influence the other's future actions. The thick blood
+of the half-breed slowly rose into Jacky's face, until the dark skin was
+suffused with a heavy, passionate flush. Slowly, too, the somber eyes
+lit--glowed--until the dazzling fire of anger shone in their depths.
+Then she spoke; not passionately, but with a hard, cruel delivery which
+sent a shiver thrilling through her companion's body and left her
+shuddering.
+
+"'Aunt' Margaret, I swear by all that's holy that I'll never marry that
+scum. Say, I'd rather follow a round-up camp and share a greaser's
+blankets than wear all the diamonds Lablache could buy. An' as for
+uncle; say, the day that sees him ruined'll see Lablache's filthy brains
+spoiling God's pure air."
+
+"Child, child," replied the old lady, in alarm, "don't take oaths, the
+rashness--the folly of which you cannot comprehend. For goodness' sake
+don't entertain such wicked thoughts. Lablache is a villain, but--"
+
+She broke off and turned towards the door, which, at that moment, opened
+to admit the genial doctor.
+
+"Ah," she went on, with a sudden change of manner back to that of her
+usual cheerful self, "I thought you men were going to make a night of
+it. Jacky came to share my solitude."
+
+"Good evening, Jacky," said the doctor. "Yes, we were going to make a
+night of it, Margaret. Your summons broke up the party, and for John's
+sake--" He checked himself, and glanced curiously at the recurrent form
+of the girl, who was now lounging back in her chair gazing into the
+stove. "What did you want me for?"
+
+Jacky rose abruptly from her seat and picked up her hat.
+
+"'Aunt' Margaret didn't really want you, Doc. It was I who asked her to
+send for you. I want to see uncle."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The doctor permitted himself the ejaculation.
+
+"Good-night, you two dear people," the girl went on, with a forced
+attempt at cheerfulness. "I guess uncle'll be home by now, so I'll be
+off."
+
+"Yes, he left the saloon with me," said Doctor Abbot, shaking hands and
+walking towards the door. "You'll just about catch him."
+
+The girl kissed the old lady and passed out. The doctor stood for a
+moment on his doorstep gazing after her.
+
+"Poor child--poor child!" he murmured. "Yes, she'll find him--I saw him
+home myself," And he broke off with an expressive shrug.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE CAMPAIGN OPENS
+
+
+The summit of a hill, however insignificant its altitude, is always an
+inspiring vantage point from which to survey the surrounding world.
+There is a briskness of atmosphere on a hilltop which is inspiriting to
+the most jaded of faculties; there is a sparkling vitality in the breath
+of the morning air which must ever make life a joy and the world seem an
+inexpressible delight in which it is the acme of happiness to dwell.
+
+The exigencies of prairie life demand the habit of early rising, and
+more often does the tiny human atom, which claims for its home the vast
+tracts of natural pasture, gaze upon the sloth of the orb of day than
+does that glorious sphere smile down upon a sleeping world.
+
+Far as the eye can reach stretch the mighty wastes of waving grass--the
+undulating plains of ravishing verdure. What breadth of thought must
+thus be inspired in one who gazes out across the boundless expanse at
+the glories of a perfect sunrise? How insignificant becomes the petty
+affairs of man when gazing upon the majesty of God's handiwork. How
+utterly inconceivable becomes the association of evil with such
+transcendently beautiful creation? Surely no evil was intended to lurk
+in the shadow of so much simple splendor.
+
+And yet does the ghastly specter of crime haunt the perfect plains, the
+majestic valleys, the noiseless, inspiring pine woods, the glistening,
+snow-capped hills. And so it must remain as long as the battle of life
+continues undecided--so long as the struggle for existence endures.
+
+The Hon. Bunning-Ford rose while yet the daylight was struggling to
+overcome the shades of night. He stood upon the tiny veranda which
+fronted his minute house, smoking his early morning cigarette. He was
+waiting for his coffee--that stimulating beverage which few who have
+lived in the wilds of the West can do without--and idly luxuriating in
+the wondrous charm of scene which was spread out before him. "Lord" Bill
+was not a man of great poetic mind, but he appreciated his adopted
+country--"God's country," as he was wont to call it--as can only those
+who have lived in it. The prairie had become part of his very existence,
+and he loved to contemplate the varying lights and colors which moved
+athwart the fresh spring-clad plains as the sun rose above the eastern
+horizon.
+
+The air was chill, but withal invigorating, as he watched the steely
+blue of the daylit sky slowly give place to the rosy tint of sunrise.
+Slowly at first--then faster--great waves of golden light seemed to leap
+from the top of one green rising ground to another; the gray white of
+the snowy western mountains passed from one dead shade to another,
+until, at last, they gleamed like alabaster from afar with a diamond
+brilliancy almost painful to the eye. Thus the sun rose like some mighty
+caldron of fire mounting into the cloudless azure of a perfect sky,
+showering unctuous rays of light and heat upon the chilled life that was
+of its own creating.
+
+Bill was still lost in thought, gazing out upon the perfect scene from
+the vantage point of the hill upon which his "shack" stood, when round
+the corner of the house came a half-breed, bearing a large tin pannikin
+of steaming coffee. He took the pannikin from the man and propped
+himself against a post which helped to support the roof of the veranda.
+
+"Are the boys out yet?" he asked the waiting Breed, and nodding towards
+the corrals, which reposed at the foot of the hill and were overlooked
+by the house.
+
+"I guess," the fellow replied laconically. Then, as an afterthought,
+"They're getting breakfast, anyhow."
+
+"Say, when they've finished their grub you can tell 'em to turn to and
+lime out the sheds. I'm going in to the settlement to-day. If I'm not
+back to-night let them go right on with the job to-morrow."
+
+The man signified his understanding of the instructions with a grunt.
+This cook of "Lord" Bill's was not a man of words. His vocation had
+induced an irascibility of temper which took the form of silence. His
+was an incipient misanthropy.
+
+Bill returned the empty pannikin and strolled down towards the corrals
+and sheds. The great barn lay well away from where the cattle
+congregated. This ranch was very different from that of the Allandales
+of Foss River. It was some miles away from the settlement. Its
+surroundings were far more open. Timber backed the house, it is true,
+but in front was the broad expanse of the open plains. It was an
+excellent position, and, governed by a thrifty hand, would undoubtedly
+have thrived and ultimately vied with the more elaborate establishment
+over which Jacky held sway. As it was, however, Bill cared little for
+prosperity and money-making, and though he did not neglect his property
+he did not attempt to extend its present limits.
+
+The milch cows were slowly mouching from the corrals as he neared the
+sheds. A diminutive herder was urging them along with shrill, piping
+shrieks--vicious but ineffective. Far more to the purpose were the
+efforts to a well-trained, bob-tailed sheep dog who was awaking echoes
+on the brisk morning air with the full-toned note of his bark.
+
+"Lord" Bill found one or two hands quietly enjoying their
+after-breakfast smoke, but the majority had not as yet left the kitchen.
+Outside the barn two men were busily soft-soaping their saddles and
+bridles, whilst a third, seated on an upturned box, was wiping out his
+revolver with a coal-oil rag. Bill passed them by with a nod and
+greeting, and went into the stable. The horses were feeding, but as yet
+the stalls had not been cleaned out. He returned and gave some
+instructions to one of the men. Then he walked slowly back to the house.
+Usually he would have stayed down there to see the work of the day
+carried out; now, however, he was preoccupied. On this particular
+morning he took but little interest in the place; he knew only too well
+how soon it must pass from his possession.
+
+Half-way up the hill he paused and turned his sleepy eyes towards the
+south. At a considerable distance a vehicle was approaching at a
+spanking pace. It was a buckboard, one of those sturdy conveyances built
+especially for light prairie transport. As yet it was not sufficiently
+near for him to distinguish its occupant, but the speed and cut of the
+horses seemed familiar to him. He continued on towards the house, and
+seated himself leisurely on the veranda, and, rolling himself another
+cigarette, calmly watched the on-coming conveyance.
+
+It was the habit of this man never to be prodigal in the display of
+energy. He usually sat when there was no need for standing; he always
+considered speech to be golden, but silence, to his way of thinking, was
+priceless. And like most men of such opinion he cultivated thought and
+observation.
+
+He propped his back against the veranda post, and, taking a deep
+inhalation from his cigarette, gazed long and earnestly, with
+half-closed eyes, down the winding southern trail.
+
+His curiosity, if such a feeling might have been attributed to him, was
+soon set at rest, for, as the horses raced up the hill towards him, he
+had no difficulty in recognizing the bulky proportions of his visitor.
+Seeing the driver of the buckboard making for the house, two of the
+"hands" had hastened up the hill to take the horses. Lablache, for it
+was the fleshy money-lender, slid, as agilely as his great bulk would
+permit him, from the vehicle, and the two men took charge of the horses.
+Bill was not altogether cordial. It was not his way to be so to anybody
+but his friends.
+
+"How are you?" he said with a nod, but without rising from his recumbent
+attitude. "Goin' to stay long?"
+
+His latter question sounded churlish, but Lablache understood his
+meaning. It was of the horses the rancher was thinking.
+
+"An hour, maybe," replied Lablache, breathing heavily as a result of his
+climb out of the buckboard.
+
+"Right Take 'em away, boys. Remove the harness and give 'em a good rub
+down. Don't water or feed 'em till they're cool. They're spanking
+'plugs,' Lablache," he added, as he watched the horses being led down to
+the barn. "Come inside. Had breakfast?" rising and knocking the dust
+from the seat of his moleskin trousers.
+
+"Yes, I had breakfast before daylight, thanks," Lablache said, glancing
+quickly down at the empty corrals, where his horses were about to
+undergo a rubbing down. "I came out to have a business chat with you.
+Shall we go in-doors?"
+
+"Most certainly."
+
+There was an expressive curtness in the two words. Bill permitted
+himself a brief survey of the great man's back as the latter turned
+towards the front door. And although his half-closed lids hid the
+expression of his eyes, the pursing of the lips and the fluctuating
+muscles of his jaw spoke of unpleasant thoughts passing through his
+mind. A business talk with Lablache, under the circumstances, could not
+afford the rancher much pleasure. He followed the money-lender into the
+sitting-room.
+
+The apartment was very bare, mannish, and scarcely the acme of neatness.
+A desk, a deck chair, a bench and a couple of old-fashioned windsor
+chairs; a small table, on which breakfast things were set, an old
+saddle, a rack of guns and rifles, a few trophies of the chase in the
+shape of skins and antelope heads comprised the furniture and
+decorations of the room. And too, in that slightly uncouth collection,
+something of the character of the proprietor was revealed.
+
+Bunning-Ford was essentially careless of comfort. And surely he was
+nothing if not a keen and ardent sportsman.
+
+"Sit down." Bill indicated the chairs with a wave of the arm. Lablache
+dubiously eyed the deck chair, then selected one of the unyielding
+Windsor chairs as more safe for the burden of his precious body, tested
+it, and sat down, emitting a gasp of breath like an escape of steam from
+a safety-valve. The younger man propped himself on the corner of his
+desk.
+
+Lablache looked furtively into his companion's face. Then he turned his
+eyes in the direction of the window. Bill said nothing, his face was
+calm. He intended the money-lender to speak first. The latter seemed
+indisposed to do so. His lashless eyes gazed steadily out at the prairie
+beyond. "Lord" Bill's persistent silence at length forced the other into
+speech. His words came slowly and were frequently punctuated with deep
+breaths.
+
+"Your ranch--everything you possess is held on first mortgage."
+
+"Not all." Bunning-Ford's answer came swiftly. The abruptness of the
+other's announcement nettled him. The tone of the words conveyed a
+challenge which the younger man was not slow to accept.
+
+Lablache shrugged his shoulders with deliberation until his fleshy jowl
+creased against the woolen folds of his shirt front.
+
+"It comes to the same thing," he said; "what I--what is not mortgaged is
+held in bonds. The balance, practically all of it, you owe under
+signature to Pedro Mancha. It is because of that--latest--debt I am
+here."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Bill rolled a fresh cigarette and lit it. He guessed something of what
+was coming--but not all.
+
+"Mancha will force you to meet your liabilities to him. Your interest is
+shortly due to the Calford Loan Co. You cannot meet both."
+
+Lablache gazed unblinkingly into the other's face. He was thoroughly
+enjoying himself.
+
+Bill was staring pensively at his cigarette. One leg swung pendulum
+fashion beside the desk. His indebtedness troubled him not a jot. He was
+trying to fathom the object of this prelude. Lablache, he knew, had not
+come purposely to make these plain statements. He blew a cloud of smoke
+down his nostrils with much appreciation. Then he heaved a sigh as
+though his troubles were too great for him to bear.
+
+"Right--dead right, first time."
+
+The lazy eyes appeared to be staring into space. In reality they were
+watching the doughy countenance before him. "What do you propose to do?"
+Lablache asked, ignoring the other's flippant tone.
+
+Bill shrugged.
+
+"Debts of honor must be met first," he said quietly. "Mancha must be
+paid in full. I shall take care of that. For the rest, I have no doubt
+your business knowledge will prompt you as to what course the Calford
+Loan Co. and yourself had best adopt."
+
+Lablache was slightly taken aback at the cool indifference of this man.
+He scarcely knew how to deal with him. He had driven out this morning
+intending to coerce, or, at least, strike a hard bargain. But the object
+of his attentions was, to say the least of it, difficult.
+
+He moved uneasily and crossed his legs.
+
+"There is only one course open to your creditors. It is a harsh method
+and one which goes devilishly against the grain. But--"
+
+"Pray don't apologize, Mr. Lablache," broke in the other, smiling
+sardonically. "I am fully aware of the tender condition of your
+feelings. I only trust that in this matter you will carry out
+your--er--painful duty without worrying me with the detail of the
+necessary routine. I shall settle Mancha's debt at once and then you are
+welcome to the confounded lot."
+
+Bill moved from his position and walked towards the door. The
+significance of his action was well marked. Lablache, however, had no
+intention of going yet. He moved heavily round upon his chair so as to
+face his man.
+
+"One moment--er--Ford. You are a trifle precipitate. I was going on to
+say, when you interrupted me, that if you cared to meet me half-way I
+have a proposition to make which might solve your difficulty. It is an
+unusual one, I admit, but," with a meaning smile, "I rather fancy that
+the Calford Loan Co. might be induced to see the advantage, _to them_,
+of delaying action."
+
+The object of this early morning visit was about to be made apparent.
+Bill returned to his position at the desk and lit another cigarette. The
+suave manner of his unwelcome guest was dangerous. He was prepared.
+There was something almost feline in the attitude and the expression of
+the young rancher as he waited for the money-lender to proceed. Perhaps
+Lablache understood him. Perhaps his understanding warned him to adopt
+his best manner. His usual method in dealing with his victims was hardly
+the same as he was now using.
+
+"Well, what is this 'unusual' course?" asked Bill, in no very tolerant
+tone. He wished it made quite plain that he cared nothing about the
+"selling up" process to which he knew he must be subjected. Lablache
+noted the haughty manner and resented it, but still he gave no outward
+sign. He had a definite object to attain and he would not allow his
+anger to interfere with his chances of success.
+
+"Merely a pleasant little business arrangement which should meet all
+parties' requirements," he said easily. "At present you are paying a ten
+per cent, interest on a principal of thirty-five thousand dollars to the
+Calford Loan Co. A debt of twenty thousand to me includes an amount of
+interest which represents ten per cent, interest for ten years. Very
+well, Your ranch should be yielding a greater profit than it is. With
+your permission the Calford Trust Co. shall put in a competent manager,
+whose salary shall be paid out of the profits. The balance of said
+profits shall be handed Over to your creditors, less an annual income to
+you of fifteen hundred dollars. Thus the principal of your debts, at a
+careful computation, should be liquidated in seven years. In
+consideration of thus shortening the period of the loans by three years
+the Calford Trust Co. shall allow you a rebate of five per cent,
+interest. Failing the profits in seven years amounting to the sums of
+money required, the Calford Trust Co. and myself will forego the balance
+due to us. Let me plainly assure you that this is no philanthropic
+scheme but the result of practical calculation. The advantage to you is
+obvious. An assured income during that period, and your ranch well and
+ably managed and improved. Your property at the end of seven years will
+return to you a vastly more valuable possession than it is at present.
+And we, on our part, will recover our money and interest without the
+unpleasant reflection that, in doing so, we have beggared you."
+
+Lablache, usurer, scoundrel, smiled benignly at his companion as he
+pronounced his concluding words. The Hon. Bunning-Ford looked, thought,
+and looked again. He began to think that Lablache was meditating a more
+rascally proceeding than he had given him credit for. His words were so
+specious. His pie was so delicately crusted with such a tempting
+exterior. What was the object of this magnanimous offer? He felt he must
+know more.
+
+"It sounds awfully well, but surely that is not all. What, in return, is
+demanded of me?"
+
+Lablache had carefully watched the effect of his words. He was wondering
+whether the man he was dealing with was clever beyond the average, or a
+fool. He was still balancing the point in his mind when Bill put the
+question.
+
+Lablache looked away, produced a snuff-box and drew up a large pinch of
+snuff before answering. He blew his nose with trumpet-like vehemence on
+a great red bandana.
+
+"The only return asked of you is that you vacate the country for the
+next two years," he said heavily. And in that rejoinder "Lord" Bill
+understood the man's guile.
+
+It was a sudden awakening, but it came to him as no sort of surprise. He
+had long suspected, although he had never given serious credence to his
+suspicions, the object the money-lender had in inveigling both himself
+and "Poker" John into their present difficulties. Now he understood, and
+a burning desire swept over him to shoot the man down where he sat. Then
+a revulsion of feeling came to him and he saw the ludicrous side of the
+situation. He gazed at Lablache, that obese mountain of blubber, and
+tried to think of the beautiful, wild Jacky as the money-lender's wife.
+The thing seemed so preposterous that he burst out into a mocking laugh.
+
+Lablache, whose fishy eyes had never left the rancher's face, heard the
+tone and slowly flushed with anger. For an instant he seemed about to
+rise, then instead he leant forward.
+
+"Well?" he asked, breathing his monosyllabic inquiry hissing upon the
+air.
+
+Bill emitted a thin cloud of smoke into the money-lender's face. His
+eyes had suddenly become wide open and blazing with anger. He pointed to
+the door.
+
+"I'll see you damned first! Now--git!"
+
+At the door Lablache turned. In his face was written all the fury of
+hell.
+
+"Mancha's debt is transferred to me. You will settle it without delay."
+
+He had scarcely uttered the last word when there was a loud report, and
+simultaneously the crash of a bullet in the casing of the door. Lablache
+accepted his dismissal with precipitation and hastened to where his
+horses were stationed, to the accompaniment of "Lord" Bill's mocking
+laugh. He had no wish to test the rancher's marksmanship further.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+LABLACHE FORCES THE FIGHT
+
+
+A month--just one month and the early spring has developed with almost
+tropical suddenness into a golden summer. The rapid passing of seasons,
+the abrupt break, the lightning change from one into another, is one of
+the many beauties of the climate of that fair land where there are no
+half measures in Nature's mode of dealing out from her varied store of
+moods. Spring chases Winter, hoary, bitter, cruel Winter, in the hours
+of one night; and in turn Spring's delicate influence is overpowered
+with equal celerity by the more matured and unctuous ripeness of Summer.
+
+Foss River had now become a glorious picture of vivid coloring. The
+clumps of pine woods no longer present their tattered purplish
+appearance, the garb in which grim Winter is wont to robe them. They are
+lighter, gayer, and bathed in the gleaming sunlight they are transformed
+from their somber forbidding aspect to that of radiant, welcome shade.
+The river is high, almost to flooding point. And the melting snow on the
+distant mountain-tops has urged it into a sparkling torrent of icy cold
+water rushing on at a pace which threatens to tear out its deterring
+banks and shallow bed in its mad career.
+
+The most magical change which the first month of summer has brought is
+to be seen in the stock. Cattle, when first brought in from distant
+parts at the outset of the round-up, usually are thin, mean-looking, and
+half-starved. Two weeks of the delicious spring grass and the fat on
+their ribs and loins rolls and shakes as they move, growing almost
+visibly under the succulent influence of the delicate vegetation.
+
+Few at Foss River appreciated the blessings of summer more fully than
+did Jacky Allandale, and few worked harder than did she. Almost
+single-handed she grappled with the stupendous task of the management of
+the great ranch, and no "hand," however experienced, was more capable in
+the most arduous tasks which that management involved. From the skillful
+organization down to the roping and branding of a wild two-year-old
+steer there was no one who understood the business of stock-raising
+better than she. She loved it--it was the very essence of life to her.
+
+Silas, her uncle's foreman, was in the habit of summing her up in his
+brief but expressive way.
+
+"Missie Jacky?" he would exclaim, in tones of surprise, to any one who
+dared to express wonder at her masterly management. "Guess a cyclone
+does its biz mighty thorough, but I take it ef that gal 'ud been born a
+hurricane she'd 'ave dislodged mountains an' played baseball with the
+glaciers."
+
+But this year things were different with the mistress of the Foss River
+Ranch. True she went about her work with that thorough appreciation
+which she always displayed, but the young face had last something of its
+happy girlish delight--that _debonnaire_ cheerfulness which usually
+characterized it. A shadow seemed to be hanging over her--a shadow,
+which, although it marred in no way her fresh young beauty, added a
+deepened pensiveness to her great somber eyes, and seemed to broaden the
+fringing black ring round the gray pupils. This year the girl had more
+to grapple with than the mere management of the ranch.
+
+Her uncle needed all her care. And, too, the consciousness that the
+result of all her work was insufficient to pay the exorbitant interest
+on mortgages which had been forced upon her uncle by the hated,
+designing Lablache took something of the zest from her labors. Then,
+besides this, there were thoughts of the compact sealed between her
+lover and herself in Bad Man's Hollow, and the knowledge of the
+intentions of the money-lender towards "Lord" Bill, all helped to render
+her distrait. She knew all about the scene which had taken place at
+Bill's ranch, and she knew that, for her lover at least, the crash had
+come. During that first month of the open season the girl had been
+sorely tried. There was no one but "Aunt" Margaret to whom she could go
+for comfort or sympathy, and even she, with her wise councils and
+far-seeing judgment, could not share in the secrets which weighed so
+heavily upon the girl.
+
+Jacky had not experienced, as might have been expected, very great
+difficulty in keeping her uncle fast to the grind-stone of duty.
+Whatever his faults and weaknesses, John Allandale was first of all a
+rancher, and when once the winter breaks every rancher must work--ay,
+work like no negro slave ever worked. It was only in the evenings, when
+bodily fatigue had weakened the purpose of ranching habit, and when the
+girl, wearied with her day's work, relaxed her vigilance, that the old
+man craved for the object of his passion and its degrading
+accompaniment. Then he would nibble at the whisky bottle, having "earned
+his tonic," as he would say, until the potent spirit had warmed his
+courage and he would hurry off to the saloon for "half an hour's
+flutter," which generally terminated in the small hours of the morning.
+
+Such was the state of affairs at the Foss River Ranch when Lablache put
+into execution his threats against the Hon. Bunning-Ford. The settlement
+had returned to its customary torpid serenity. The round-up was over,
+and all the "hands" had returned to the various ranches to which they
+belonged. The little place had entered upon its period of placid sleep,
+which would last until the advent of the farmers to spend the proceeds
+of their garnered harvest. But this would be much later in the year, and
+in the meantime Foss River would sleep.
+
+The night before the sale of "Lord" Bill's ranch, he and Jacky went for
+a ride. They had thus ridden out on many evenings of late. Old John was
+too absorbed in his own affairs to bother himself at these evening
+journeyings, although, in his careless way, he noticed how frequent a
+visitor at the ranch Bill had lately become. Still, he made no
+objection. If his niece saw fit to encourage these visits he would not
+interfere. In his eyes the girl could do no wrong. It was his one
+redeeming feature, his love for the motherless girl, and although his
+way of showing it was more than open to criticism, it was true he loved
+her with a deep, strong affection.
+
+Foss River was far too sleepy to bother about these comings and goings.
+Lablache, alone, of the sleepy hamlet, eyed the evening journeys with
+suspicion. But even he was unable to fathom their object, and was forced
+to set them down, his whole being consumed with jealousy the while, to
+lovers' wanderings. However, these nightly rides were taken with
+purpose. After galloping across the prairie in various directions they
+always, as darkness crept on, terminated at a certain spot--the clump of
+willows and reeds at which the secret path across the great keg began.
+
+The sun was well down below the distant mountain peaks when Jacky and
+her lover reached the scrubby bush of willows and reeds upon the evening
+before the day of the sale of Bill's ranch. As they drew up their
+panting horses, and dismounted, the evening twilight was deepening over
+the vast expanse of the mire.
+
+The girl stood at the brink of the bottomless caldron of viscid muck and
+gazed out across the deadly plain. Bill stood still beside her, watching
+her face with eager, hungry eyes.
+
+"Well?" he said at last, as his impatience forced itself to his lips.
+
+"Yes, Bill," the girl answered slowly, as one balancing her decision
+well before giving judgment, "the path has widened. The rain has kept
+off long enough, and the sun has done his best for us. It is a good
+omen. Follow me."
+
+She linked her arm through the reins of her horse's bridle, and leading
+the faithful animal, stepped fearlessly out on to the muskeg. As she
+trod the rotten crust she took a zigzag direction from one side of the
+secret path to the other. That which, in early spring, had scarcely been
+six feet in width, would now have borne ten horsemen abreast. Presently
+she turned back. "We need go no further, Bill; what is safe here
+continues safe across the keg. It will widen in places, but in no place
+will the path grow narrower."
+
+"But tell me," said the man, anxious to assure himself that no detail
+was forgotten, "what about the trail of our footprints?"
+
+The girl laughed. Then indenting the ground with her shapely boot until
+the moisture below oozed into the imprint, she looked up into the lazy
+face before her.
+
+"See--we wait for one minute, and you shall see the result."
+
+They waited in silence in the growing darkness. The night insects and
+mosquitoes buzzed around them. The man's attention was riveted upon the
+impression made by the girl's foot. Slowly the water filled the print,
+then slowly, under the moist influence, the ground, sponge-like, rose
+again, the water disappeared, and all sign of the footmark was gone.
+
+When again the ground had resumed its natural appearance the girl looked
+up.
+
+"Are you satisfied, Bill? No man or beast who passes over this path
+leaves a trail which lasts longer than a minute. Even the rank grass,
+however badly trodden down, rears itself again with amazing vitality. I
+guess this place was created through the devil's agency and for the
+purpose of devil's work."
+
+Bill gave one sweeping glance around. Then he turned, and the two made
+their way back to the edge of the sucking mire.
+
+"Yes, it'll do, dear. Now let us hasten home."
+
+They remounted their horses and were soon lost in the gathering darkness
+as they made their way over the brow of the rising ground, in the
+direction of the settlement.
+
+The next day saw the possession of the Hon. Bunning-Ford's ranch pass
+into other hands. Punctually at noon, the sale began. And by four
+o'clock the process, which robbed the rancher of everything that he
+possessed in the world, was completed.
+
+Bill stationed himself on the veranda and smoked incessantly while the
+sale proceeded. He was there to see how the things went, and, in fact,
+seemed to take an outsider's interest only. He experienced no morbid
+sentiment at the loss of his property--it is doubtful if he cared at
+all. Anyhow, his leisurely attitude and his appearance of good-natured
+indifference caused many surprised remarks amongst the motley collection
+of bidders who were present. In spite of these appearances, however, he
+did take a very keen interest. A representative of Lablache's was there
+to purchase stock, and Bill knew it, and his interest was centered on
+this would-be purchaser.
+
+The stock was the last thing to come under the hammer. There were twenty
+lots. Of these Lablache's representative purchased
+fifteen--three-quarters of the stock of the entire ranch.
+
+Bill waited only for this, then, as the sale closed, he leisurely rolled
+and lit another cigarette and strolled to where a horse, which he had
+borrowed from the Allandales stable, was tied, and rode slowly away.
+
+As he rode away he turned his head in the direction of the house upon
+the hill. He was leaving for good and all the place which had so long
+claimed him as master. He saw the small gathering of people still
+hanging about the veranda, upon which the auctioneer still stood with
+his clerk, busy over the sales. He noticed others passing hither and
+thither, as they prepared to depart with their purchases. But none of
+these things which he looked upon affected him in any mawkish,
+sentimental manner. It was all over. That little hill, with its wooded
+background and vast frontage of prairie, from which he had loved to
+watch the sun get up after its nightly sojourn, would know him no more.
+His indifference was unassumed. His was not the nature to regret past
+follies.
+
+He smiled softly as he turned his attention to the future which lay
+before him, and his smile was not in keeping with the expression of a
+broken man.
+
+In these last days of waning prosperity Bunning-Ford had noticeably
+changed. With loss of property he had lost much of that curious veneer
+of indolence, utter disregard of consequences, which had always been
+his. Not, that he had suddenly developed a violent activity or
+boisterous enthusiasm. Simply his interest in things and persons seemed
+to have received a fillip. There seemed to be an air of latent activity
+about him; a setness of purpose which must have been patent to any one
+sufficiently interested to observe the young rancher closely. But Foss
+River was too sleepy--indifferent--to worry itself about anybody, except
+those in its ranks who were riding the high horse of success. Those who
+fell out by the wayside were far too numerous to have more than a
+passing thought devoted to them. So this subtle change in the man was
+allowed to pass without comment by any except, perhaps, the
+money-lender, Lablache, and the shrewd, kindly wife of the
+doctor--people not much given to gossip.
+
+It was only since the discovery of Lablache's perfidy that "Lord" Bill
+had understood what living meant. His discovery in Smith's saloon had
+roused in him a very human manhood. Since that time he had been seized
+with a mental activity, a craving for action he had never, in all his
+lazy life, before experienced. This sudden change had been aggravated by
+Lablache's subsequent conduct, and the flame had been fanned by the
+right that Jacky had given him to protect her. The sensation was one of
+absorbing excitement, and the loss of property sat lightly upon him in
+consequence. Money he had not--property he had not. But he had now what
+he had never possessed before--he had an object.
+
+A lasting, implacable vengeance was his, from the contemplation of which
+he drew a satisfaction which no possession of property could have given
+him. Nature had, with incorrigible perversity, cut him out for a life of
+ease, whilst endowing him with a character capable of very great things.
+Now, in her waywardness she had aroused that character and overthrown
+the hindering superficialty in which she had clothed it. And further to
+mark her freakish mood, these same capabilities which might easily,
+under other circumstances, have led him into the fore-front of life's
+battle, she directed, with inexorable cruelty, into an adverse course.
+He had been cheated, robbed, and his soul thirsted for revenge. Lablache
+had robbed the uncle of the girl he loved, and, worse than all, the
+wretch had tried to oust him from the affections of the girl herself.
+Yes, he thirsted for revenge as might any traveler in a desert crave for
+water. His eyes, no longer sleepy, gleamed as he thought. His long,
+square jaws seemed welded into one as he thought of his wrongs. His was
+the vengeance which, if necessary, would last his lifetime. At least,
+whilst Lablache lived no quarter would he give or accept.
+
+Something of this he was thinking as he took his farewell of the ranch
+on the hill, and struck out in the direction of the half-breed camp
+situated in a hollow some distance outside the settlement of Foss
+River.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE FIRST CHECK
+
+
+The afterglow of sunset slowly faded out of the western sky. And the
+hush of the night was over all. The feeling of an awful solitude, which
+comes to those whose business is to pass the night on the open prairie,
+is enhanced rather than reduced by the buzz of insect life upon the
+night air. The steady hum of the mosquito--the night song of the
+grasshoppers and frogs--the ticking, spasmodic call of the invisible
+beetles--all these things help to intensify the loneliness and magnitude
+of the wild surroundings. Nor does the smoldering camp-fire lessen the
+loneliness. Its very light deepens the surrounding dark, and its only
+use, after the evening meal is cooked, is merely to dispel the savage
+attack of the voracious mosquito and put the fear of man into the hearts
+of the prairie scavenger, the coyote, whose dismal howl awakens the
+echoes of the night at painfully certain intervals, and often drives
+sleep from the eyes of the weary traveler.
+
+It is rare that the "cow-hand" pitches his camp amongst hills, or in the
+neighborhood of any bushy growth. The former he shuns from a natural
+dislike for a limited view. The latter, especially if the bush takes the
+form of pine woods, is bad for many reasons, chief amongst which is the
+fact of its being the harborage of the savage, gigantic timber wolf--a
+creature as naturally truculent as the far-famed grizzly, the denizen of
+the towering Rockies.
+
+Upon a high level of the prairie, out towards the upper reaches of the
+Rainy River, a tributary of the broad, swift-flowing Foss River, and
+some fifteen miles from the settlement, two men were lounging, curled
+leisurely round the smoldering remains of a camp fire. Some distance
+away the occasional lowing of a cow betrayed the presence of a band of
+cattle.
+
+The men were wide awake and smoking. Whether they refrained from sleep
+through necessity or inclination matters little. Probably the hungry
+attacks of the newly-hatched mosquito were responsible for their
+wakefulness. Each man was wrapped in a single brown blanket, and folded
+saddle-cloth answered as a pillow, and it was noticeable that they were
+stretched out well to leeward of the fire, so that the smoke passed
+across them, driving away a few of the less audacious "skitters."
+
+"We'll get 'em in by dinner to-morrow," said one of the sleepless men
+thoughtfully. His remark was more in the tone of soliloquy than
+addressed to the other. Then louder, and in a manner which implied
+resentment, "Them all-fired skitters is givin' me a twistin'."
+
+"Smoke up, pard," came a muffled rejoinder from the region of the other
+blanket "Maybe your hide's a bit tender yet. I 'lows skitters 'most
+allus goes fur young 'uns. Guess I'm all right."
+
+"Dessay you are," replied the first speaker, sharply. "I ain't been long
+in the country--leastways, not on the prairie, an' like as not I ain't
+dropped into the ways o' things. I've allus heerd as washin' is mighty
+bad when skitters is around. They doesn't worry you any."
+
+He pulled heavily at his pipe until his face was enveloped in a fog of
+smoke. His companion's tone of patronage had nettled him. The old hand
+moved restlessly but did not answer. It is doubtful if the other's
+sarcasm had been observed. It was scarcely broad enough to penetrate the
+toughened hide of the older hand's susceptibilities.
+
+The silence was broken by a man's voice in the distance. The sound of an
+old familiar melody, chanted in a manly and not unmusical voice, reached
+the fireside. It was the voice of the man who was on watch round the
+band of cattle, and he was endeavoring to lull them into quiescence.
+The human voice, in the stillness of the night, has a somnolent effect
+upon cattle, and even mosquitoes, unless they are very thick, fail to
+counteract the effect. The older hand stirred. Then he sat up and
+methodically replenished the fire, kicking the dying embers together
+until they blazed afresh.
+
+"Jim Bowley do sing mighty sweet," he said, in disparaging tones. "Like
+a crazy buzz-saw, I guess. S'pose them beasties is gettin' kind o'
+restless. Say, Nat, how goes the time? It must be night on ter your
+spell."
+
+Nat sat up and drew out a great silver watch.
+
+"Haf an hour yet, pard." Then he proceeded to re-fill his pipe, cutting
+great flakes of black tobacco from a large plug with his sheath knife.
+Suddenly he paused in the operation and listened. "Say, Jake, what's
+that?"
+
+"What's what?" replied Jake, roughly, preparing to lie down again.
+
+"Listen!"
+
+The two men bent their keen, prairie-trained ears to windward. They
+listened intently. The night was very black--as yet the moon had not
+risen. Jake used his eyes as well as ears. On the prairie, as well as
+elsewhere, eyes have a lot to do with hearing. He sought to penetrate
+the darkness around him, but his efforts were unavailing. He could hear
+no sound but the voice of Jim Bowley and the steady plodding of his
+horse's feet as he ceaselessly circled the band of somnolent cattle. The
+sky was cloudy, and only here and there a few stars gleamed diamond-like
+in the heavens, but threw insufficient light to aid the eyes which
+sought to penetrate the surrounding gloom. The old hand threw himself
+back on his pillow in skeptical irritation.
+
+"Thar ain't nothin', young 'un," he said disdainfully. "The beasties is
+quiet, and Jim Bowley ain't no tenderfoot. Say, them skitters 'as
+rattled yer. Guess you 'eard some prowlin' coyote. They allus come
+around whar ther's a tenderfoot."
+
+Jake curled himself up again and chuckled at his own sneering
+pleasantry.
+
+"Coyote yerself, Jake Bond," retorted Nat, angrily. "Them lugs o' yours
+is gettin' old. Guess yer drums is saggin'. You're mighty smart, I don't
+think."
+
+The youngster got on to his feet and walked to where the men's two
+horses were picketed. Both horses were standing with ears cocked and
+their heads held high in the direction of the mountains. Their attitude
+was the acme of alertness. As the man came up they turned towards him
+and whinnied as if in relief at the knowledge of his presence. But
+almost instantly turned again to gaze far out into the night. Wonderful
+indeed is a horse's instinct, but even more wonderful is the keenness of
+his sight and hearing.
+
+Nat patted his broncho on the neck, and then stood beside him
+watching--listening. Was it fancy, or was it fact? The faintest sound of
+a horse galloping reached him; at least, he thought so.
+
+He returned to the fire sullenly antagonistic. He did not return to his
+blanket, but sat silently smoking and thinking. He hated the constant
+reference to his inexperience on the prairie. If even he did hear a
+horse galloping in the distance it didn't matter. But it was his ears
+that had first caught the sound in spite of his inexperience. His
+companion pigheadedly derided the fact because his own ears were not
+sufficiently keen to have detected the sound himself.
+
+Thus he sat for a few minutes gazing into the fire. Jake was now snoring
+loudly, and Nat was glad to be relieved from the tones of his sneering
+voice. Presently he rose softly from his seat, and taking his saddle
+blanket, saddled and bridled his horse. Then he mounted and silently
+rode off towards the herd. It was his relief on the cattle guard.
+
+Jim Bowley welcomed him with the genial heartiness of a man who knows
+that he has finished his vigil and that he can now lie down to rest. The
+guarding of a large herd at night is always an anxious time. Cattle are
+strange things to handle. A stampede will often involve a week's weary
+scouring of the prairie.
+
+Just as Jim Bowley was about to ride up to the camp, Nat fired a
+question which he had been some time meditating.
+
+"Guess you didn't hear a horse gallopin' jest now, pard?" he asked
+quietly.
+
+"Why cert, boy," the other answered quickly, "only a deaf mule could 'a'
+missed it. Some one passed right under the ridge thar, away to the
+southwest. Guess they wer' travelin' mighty fast too. Why?"
+
+"Oh, nothin', Jim, on'y I guess Jake Bond's that same deaf mule you
+spoke of. He's too fond of gettin' at youngsters, the old fossil. I told
+'im as I 'card suthin', an' 'e told me as I was a tenderfoot and didn't
+know wot I was gassin' about."
+
+"Jake's a cantankerous cuss, boy. Let 'im gas; 'e don't cut any figger
+anyway. Say, you keep yer eye peeled on some o' the young heifers on the
+far side o' the bunch. They're rustlin' some. They keep mouching after
+new grass. When the moon gits up you'll see better. S'long, mate."
+
+Jim rode away towards the camp fire, and young Nat proceeded to circle
+round the great herd of cattle. It was a mighty bunch for three men to
+handle. But Lablache, its owner, was never one to underwork his men.
+This was the herd which he had purchased at the sale of Bunning-Ford's
+ranch. And they were now being taken to his own ranch, some distance to
+the south of the settlement, for the purpose of re-branding with his own
+marks.
+
+As young Nat entered upon his vigil the golden arc of the rising moon
+broke the sky-line of the horizon. Already the clouds were fast
+clearing, being slowly driven before the yellow glory of the orb of
+night. Soon the prairie would be bathed in the effulgent, silvery light
+which renders the western night so delicious when the moon is at its
+full.
+
+As the cowboy circled the herd, the moon, at first directly to his left,
+slowly dropped behind until its, as yet, dull light shone full upon his
+back. The beasts were quite quiet and the sense of responsibility which
+was his, in a measure, lessened.
+
+Some distance ahead, and near by where' he must pass, a clump of
+undergrowth and a few stunted trees grew round the base of a hillock and
+broken rocks. The cattle were reposing close up by this shelter. Nat's
+horse, as he drew near to the brush, was ambling along at that peculiar
+gait, half walk, half trot, essentially the pace of a "cow-horse."
+Suddenly the animal came to a stand, for which there seemed no apparent
+reason. He stood for a second with ears cocked, sniffing at the night
+air in evident alarm. Then a prolonged, low whistle split the air. The
+sound came from the other side of the rocks, and, to the tenderfoot's
+ears, constituted a signal.
+
+The most natural thing for him to have done would have been to wait for
+further developments, if developments there were to be. However, he was
+a plucky youngster, in spite of his inexperience, and, besides,
+something of the derision of Jake Bond was still rankling in his mind.
+He knew the whistle to be the effort of some man, and his discovery of
+the individual would further prove the accuracy of his hearing, and he
+would then have the laugh of his companion. A more experienced hand
+would have first looked to his six-shooter and thought of cattle
+thieves, but, as Jake had said, he was a tenderfoot. Instead, without a
+moment's hesitation, he dashed his spurs into his broncho's flanks and
+swept round to the shadowed side of the rocks.
+
+He realized his folly when too late. The moment he entered the shade
+there came the slithering whirr of something cutting through the air.
+Something struck the horse's front legs, and the next moment he shot out
+of the saddle in response to a somersault which the broncho turned. His
+horse had been roped by one of his front legs. The cowboy lay where he
+fell, dazed and half stunned. Then he became aware of three dark faces
+bending over him. An instant later a gag was forced into his mouth, and
+he felt himself being bound hand and foot. Then the three faces silently
+disappeared, and all was quiet about him.
+
+In the meantime, on the rising ground, where the camp fire burned, all
+was calm slumber. The two old hands were taking their rest with healthy
+contentment and noisy assertion. The glory of the rising moon was lost
+to the slumberers, and no dread of coming disaster disturbed them. The
+stertorous blasts of their nostrils testified to this. The replenished
+fire slowly died down to a mass of white smoldering ashes, and the
+chill-growing air caused one of the sleepers to move restlessly in his
+sleep and draw his head down beneath his blanket for greater warmth.
+
+Up the slope came three figures. They were moving with cautious,
+stealthy step, the movement of men whose purpose is not open. On they
+came swiftly--silently. One man led; he was tall and swarthy with long
+black hair falling upon his shoulders in straight, coarse mass. He was
+evidently a half-breed, and his clothes denoted him to be of the poorer
+class--a class accustomed to live by preying upon its white neighbors.
+He was clad in a pair of moleskin trousers, which doubtless at one time
+had been white, but which now were of that nondescript hue which dirt
+conveys. His upper garments were a beaded buckskin shirt and a battered
+Stetson hat. Around his waist was a cartridge belt, on which was slung a
+holster containing a heavy six-chambered revolver and a long sheath
+knife.
+
+His companions were similarly equipped, and the three formed a wild
+picture of desperate resolve. Yard by yard they drew toward the
+sleepers, at each step listening for the loud indications of sleep which
+were made only too apparent upon the still night air. Now they were
+close upon the fire. One of the unconscious cow-boys, Jim Bowley,
+stirred. A moment passed. Then the intruders drew a step nearer.
+Suddenly Jim roused and then sat up. His action at once became a signal.
+There was a sound of swift footsteps, and the next instant the
+astonished man was gazing into the muzzle of a heavy pistol.
+
+"Hands up!" cried the voice of the leading half-breed. One of his
+followers had similarly covered the half-awakened Jake.
+
+Without a word of remonstrance two pairs of hands went up. Astonishment
+had for the moment paralyzed speech on the part of the rudely awakened
+sleepers. They were only dimly conscious of their assailants. The
+compelling rings of metal that confronted them weighed the balance of
+their judgment, and their response was the instinctive response of the
+prairie. Whoever their assailants, they had got the drop on them. The
+result was the law of necessity.
+
+In depressing silence the assailants drew their captives' weapons. Then,
+after binding their arms, the leader bade them rise. His voice was harsh
+and his accent "South-western" American. Then he ordered them to march,
+the inexorable pistol ever present to enforce obedience. In silence the
+two men were conducted to the bush where the first capture had been
+made. And here they were firmly tied to separate trees with their own
+lariats.
+
+"See hyar," said the tall half-breed, as the captives' feet were bound
+securely. "There ain't goin' to be no shootin'. You're that sensible.
+You're jest goin' to remain right hyar till daylight, or mebbe later. A
+gag'll prevent your gassin'. You're right in the track of white men, so
+I guess you'll do. See hyar, bo', jest shut it," as Jim Bowley essayed
+to speak, "cause my barker's itchin' to join in a conversation."
+
+The threat had a quieting effect upon poor Jim, who immediately closed
+his lips. Silent but watchful he eyed the half-breed's face. There was
+something very familiar about the thin cheeks, high cheek-bones, and
+about the great hooked nose. He was struggling hard to locate the man.
+At this moment the third ruffian approached with three horses. The other
+had been busy fixing a gag in Jake Bond's mouth. Jim Bowley saw the
+horses come up. And, in the now brilliant moonlight, he beheld and
+recognized a grand-looking golden chestnut. There was no mistaking that
+glorious beast. Jim was no tenderfoot; he had been on the prairie in
+this district for years. And although he had never come into actual
+contact with the man, he had seen him and knew about the exploits of the
+owner of that perfect animal.
+
+The half-breed approached him with an improvised gag. For the life of
+him Jim could not resist a temptation which at that moment assailed him.
+The threatening attitude of his captor for the instant had lost its
+effect. If he died for it he must blurt out his almost superstitious
+astonishment.
+
+The half-breed seized his prisoner's lower jaw in his hand and
+compressed the cheeks upon the teeth. Jim's lips parted, and a horrified
+amazement found vent in words.
+
+"Holy Gawd! man. But be ye flesh or sperrit? Peter Retief--as I'm a
+livin'--"
+
+He said no more, for, with a wrench, the gag was forced into his mouth
+by the relentless hand of the man before him. Although he was thus
+silenced his eyes remained wide open and staring. The dark stern face,
+as he saw it, was magnified into that of a fiend. The keen eyes and
+depressed brows, he thought, might belong to some devil re-incarnated,
+whilst the eagle-beaked nose and thin-compressed lips denoted, to his
+distorted fancy, a sanguinary cruelty. At the mention of his name this
+forbidding apparition flashed a vengeful look at the speaker, and a half
+smile of utter disdain flickered unnoticed around the corners of his
+mouth.
+
+Once his prisoners were secured the dark-visaged cattle-thief turned to
+the horses. At a word the trio mounted. Then they rode off, and the
+wretched captives beheld, to their unspeakable dismay, the consummate
+skill with which the cattle were roused and driven off. Away they went
+with reckless precipitance, the cattle obeying the master hand of the
+celebrated raider with an implicitness which seemed to indicate a
+strange sympathy between man and beast. The great golden chestnut raced
+backwards and forwards like some well-trained greyhound, heading the
+leading beasts into the desired direction without effort or apparent
+guidance. It was a grand display of the cowboy's art, and, in spite of
+his predicament and the cruel tightness of his bonds, Jim Bowley reveled
+in the sight of such a display.
+
+In five minutes the great herd was out of sight, and only the distant
+rumble of their speeding hoofs reached the captives. Later, the moon, no
+longer golden, but shedding a silvery radiance over all, shone down upon
+a peaceful plain. The night hum of insects was undisturbed. The mournful
+cry of the coyote echoed at intervals, but near by, where the camp fire
+no longer put the fear of man into the hearts of the scavengers of the
+prairie, all was still and calm. The prisoners moaned softly, but not
+loud enough to disturb the peace of the perfect night, as their cruel
+bonds gnawed at their patience. For the rest, the Western world had
+resumed its wonted air.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE HUE AND CRY
+
+
+"A thousand head of cattle, John! A thousand; and 'hustled' from under
+our very noses. By thunder! it is intolerable. Over thirty-five thousand
+dollars gone in one clean sweep. Why, I say, do we pay for the up-keep
+of the police if this sort of thing is allowed to go on? It is
+disgraceful. It means ruination to the country if a man cannot run his
+stock without fear of molestation. Who said that scoundrel Retief was
+dead--drowned in the great muskeg? It's all poppy-cock, I tell you; the
+man's as much alive as you or I. Thirty-five thousand dollars! By
+heavens!--it's--it's scandalous!"
+
+Lablache leant forward heavily in his chair and rested his great arms
+upon John Allandale's desk. "Poker" John and he were seated in the
+former's office, whither the money-lender had come, post-haste, on
+receiving the news of the daring raid of the night before. The great
+man's voice was unusually thick with rage, and his asthmatical breathing
+came in great gusts as his passionate excitement grew under the lash of
+his own words. The old rancher gazed in stupefied amazement at the
+financier. He had not as yet fully realized the fact with which he had
+just been acquainted in terms of such sweeping passion. The old man's
+brain was none too clear in the mornings now. And the suddenness of the
+announcement had shocked his faculties into a state of chaos.
+
+"Terrible--terrible," was all he was able to murmur. Then, bracing
+himself, he asked weakly, "But what are you to do?"
+
+The weather-beaten old face was working nervously. The eyes, in the
+past keen and direct in their glance, were bloodshot and troubled. He
+looked like a man who was fast breaking up. Very different from the
+night when we first met him at the Calford Polo Club ball. There could
+be no doubt as to the origin of this swift change. The whole atmosphere
+of the man spoke of drink.
+
+Lablache turned on him without any attempt to conceal the latent
+ferocity of his nature. The heavy, pouchy jowl was scarlet with his
+rage. The money-lender had been flicked upon a very raw and tender spot.
+Money was his god.
+
+"What am I to do?" he retorted savagely. "What are _we_ to do? What is
+all the ranching world of Alberta to do? Why, fight, man. Hound this
+scoundrel to his lair. Follow him--track him. Hunt him from bush to bush
+until we fall upon him and tear him limb from limb. Are we going to sit
+still while he terrorizes the whole country? While he 'hustles' every
+head of stock from us, and--and spirits it away? No, if we spend
+fortunes upon his capture we must not rest until he swings from a gibbet
+at the end of his own lariat."
+
+"Yes, of course--of course," the rancher responded, his cheek twitching
+weakly. "You are quite right, we must hunt this scoundrel down. But we
+know what has gone before--I mean, before he was supposed to have died.
+The man could never be traced. He seemed to vanish into thin air. What
+do you propose?"
+
+"Yes, but that was two years ago," said Lablache, moodily. "Things may
+be different now. A thousand head of cattle does not vanish so easily.
+There is bound to be some trace left behind. And then, the villain has
+only got a short start of us. I sent a messenger over to Stormy Cloud
+Settlement the first thing this morning. A sergeant and four men will be
+sent to work up the case. I expect them here at any moment. As justices
+of the peace it devolves on both of us to set an example to the
+settlers, and we shall then receive hearty co-operation. You understand,
+John," the money-lender went on, with pompous assertiveness, "although,
+at present, I am the chief sufferer by this scoundrel's depredations, it
+is plainly your duty as much as mine to take this matter up."
+
+The first rough storm of Lablache's passion had passed. He was "yanking"
+himself up to the proper attitude for the business in hand. Although he
+had calmed considerably his lashless eyes gleamed viciously, and his
+flabby face wore an expression which boded ill for the object of his
+rage, should that unfortunate ever come within the range of his power.
+
+"Poker" John was struggling hard to bring a once keen intellect to bear
+upon the affair. He had listened to the money-lender's account of the
+raid with an almost doubtful understanding, the chief shock to which was
+the re-appearance of the supposed dead Retief, that prince of
+"hustlers," who, two years ago, had terrorized the neighborhood by his
+impudent raids. At last his mind seemed to clear and he stood up. And,
+bending across the desk as though to emphasize his words, he showed
+something of the old spirit which had, in days gone by, made him a
+successful rancher.
+
+"I don't believe it, Lablache. This is some damned yarn to cover the
+real culprit. Why, man, Peter Retief is buried deep in that reeking keg,
+and no slapsided galoot's goin' to pitch such a crazy notion as his
+resurrection down my throat. Retief? Why, I'd as lief hear that Satan
+himself was abroad duffing cattle. Bah! Where's the 'hand' that's gulled
+you?"
+
+Lablache eyed the old man curiously. He was not sure that there might
+not be some truth in the rancher's forcible skepticism. For the moment
+the old man's words carried some weight, then, as he remembered the
+unvarnished tale the cowboy had told, he returned to his conviction. He
+shook his massive head.
+
+"No one has gulled me, John. You shall hear the story for yourself as
+soon as the police arrive. You will the better be able to judge of the
+fellow's sincerity."
+
+At this moment the sound of horses' hoofs came in through the open
+window. Lablache glanced out on to the veranda.
+
+"Ah, here he is, and I'm glad to see they've sent Sergeant Horrocks. The
+very man for the work. Good," and he rubbed his fat hands together.
+"Horrocks is a great prairie man."
+
+"Poker" John rose and went out to meet the officer. Later he conducted
+him into the office. Sergeant Horrocks was a man of medium height,
+slightly built, but with an air of cat-like agility about him. He was
+very bronzed, with a sharp, rather than a clever face. His eyes were
+black and restless, and a thin mouth, hidden beneath a trim black
+mustache, and a perfectly-shaped aquiline nose, completed the sum of any
+features which might be called distinctive. He was a man who was
+thoroughly adapted to his work--work which needed a cool head and quick
+eye rather than great mental attainments. He was dressed in a brown
+canvas tunic with brass buttons, and his riding breeches were concealed
+in, a pair of well-worn leather "chaps." A Stetson hat worn at the exact
+angle on his head, with his official "side arms" secured round his
+waist, completed a very picturesque appearance.
+
+"Morning, Horrocks," said the money-lender. "This is a pretty business
+you've come down on. Left your men down in the settlement, eh?"
+
+"Yes. I thought I'd come and hear the rights of the matter straight
+away. According to your message you are the chief victim of this
+'duffing' business?"
+
+"Exactly," replied Lablache, with a return to his tone of anger, "one
+thousand head of beeves! Thirty-five thousand dollars' worth!" Then he
+went on more calmly: "But wait a moment, we'll send down for the 'hand'
+that brought in the news."
+
+A servant was despatched, and a few minutes later Jim Bowley entered.
+Jacky, returning from the corrals, entered at the same time. Directly
+she had seen the police horse outside she knew what was happening. When
+she appeared Lablache endeavored to conceal a look of annoyance.
+Sergeant Horrocks raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was not accustomed
+to petticoats being present at his councils. John, however, without
+motive, waived all chance of objection by anticipating his guests.
+
+"Sergeant, this is my niece, Jacky. Affairs of the prairie affect her as
+nearly as they do myself. Let us hear what this man has to tell us."
+
+Horrocks half bowed to the girl, touching the brim of his hat with a
+semi-military salute. Acquiescence to her presence was thus forced upon
+him.
+
+Jacky looked radiant in spite of the uncouthness of her riding attire.
+The fresh morning air was the tonic she loved, and, as yet, the day was
+too young for the tired shadows to have crept into her beautiful face.
+Horrocks, in spite of his tacit objection, was forced to admire the
+sturdy young face of this child of the prairie.
+
+Jim Bowley plunged into his story with a directness and simplicity which
+did not fail to carry conviction. He told all he knew without any
+attempt at shielding himself or his companions. Horrocks and the old
+rancher listened carefully to the story. Lablache looked for
+discrepancies but found none. Jacky, whilst paying every attention,
+keenly watched the face of the money-lender. The seriousness of the
+affair was reflected in all the faces present, whilst the daring of the
+raid was acknowledged by the upraised brows and wondering ejaculations
+which occasionally escaped the police-officer and "Poker" John. When the
+narrative came to a close there followed an impressive pause. Horrocks
+was the first to break it.
+
+"And how did you obtain your release?"
+
+"A Mennonite family, which had bin travelin' all night, came along 'bout
+an hour after daylight. They pitched camp nigh on to a quarter mile from
+the bluff w'ere we was tied up. Then they came right along to look fur
+kindlin'. There wasn't no other bluff for half a mile but ours. They
+found us all three. Young Nat 'ad got 'is collar-bone broke. Them
+'ustlers 'adn't lifted our 'plugs' so I jest came right in."
+
+"Have you seen these Mennonites?" asked the officer, turning sharply to
+the money-lender.
+
+"Not yet," was the heavy rejoinder. "But they are coming in."
+
+The significance of the question and the reply nettled the cowboy.
+
+"See hyar, mister, I ain't no coyote come in to pitch yarns. Wot I've
+said is gospel. The man as 'eld us up was Peter Retief as sure as I'm a
+living man. Sperrits don't walk about the prairie 'ustling cattle, an' I
+guess 'is 'and was an a'mighty solid one, as my jaw felt when 'e gagged
+me. You take it from me, 'e's come around agin to make up fur lost time,
+an' I guess 'e's made a tidy haul to start with."
+
+"Well, we'll allow that this man is the hustler you speak of," went on
+Horrocks, bending his keen eyes severely on the unfortunate cowboy.
+"Now, what about tracking the cattle?"
+
+"Guess I didn't wait fur that, but it'll be easy 'nough."
+
+"Ah, and you didn't recognize the man until you'd seen his horse?"
+
+The officer spoke sharply, like a counsel cross-examining a witness.
+
+"Wal, I can't say like that," said Jim, hesitating for the first time.
+"His looks was familiar, I 'lows. No, without knowing of it I'd
+recognized 'im, but 'is name didn't come along till I see that beast,
+Golden Eagle. I 'lows a good prairie hand don't make no mistake over
+cattle like that. 'E may misgive a face, but a beastie--no, siree."
+
+"So you base your recognition of the man on the identity of his horse. A
+doubtful assertion."
+
+"Thar ain't no doubt in my mind, sergeant. Ef you'll 'ave it so, I
+did--some."
+
+The officer turned to the other men.
+
+"If there's nothing more you want this man for, gentlemen, I have quite
+finished with him--for the present. With your permission," pulling out
+his watch, "I'll get him to take me to the er--scene of disaster in an
+hour's time."
+
+The two men nodded and Lablache conveyed the necessary order to the man,
+who then withdrew.
+
+As soon as Bowley had left the room three pairs of eyes were turned
+inquiringly upon the officer.
+
+"Well?" questioned Lablache, with some show of eagerness.
+
+Horrocks shrugged a pair of expressive shoulders.
+
+"From his point of view the man speaks the truth," he replied
+decisively. "And," he went on, more to himself than to the others, "we
+never had any clear proof that the scoundrel, Retief, came to grief.
+From what I remember things were very hot for him at the time of his
+disappearance. Maybe the man's right. However," turning to the others,
+"I should not be surprised if Mr. Retief has overreached himself this
+time. A thousand head of cattle cannot easily be hidden, or, for that
+matter, disposed of. Neither can they travel fast; and as for tracking,
+well," with a shrug, "in this case it should be child's play."
+
+"I hope it will prove as you anticipate," put in John Allandale,
+concisely. "What you suggest has been experienced by us before. However,
+the matter, I feel sure, is in capable hands."
+
+The officer acknowledged the compliment mechanically. He was thinking
+deeply. Lablache struggled to his feet, and, supporting his bulk with
+one hand resting upon the desk, gasped out his final words upon the
+matter.
+
+"I want you to remember, sergeant, this matter not only affects me
+personally but also in my capacity as a justice of the peace. To
+whatever reward I am able to make in the name of H.M. Government I shall
+add the sum of one thousand dollars for the recovery of the cattle, and
+the additional sum of one thousand dollars for the capture of the
+miscreant himself. I have determined to spare no expense in the matter
+of hunting this devil," with vindictive intensity, "down, therefore you
+can draw on me for all outlay your work may entail. All I say is,
+capture him."
+
+"I shall do my best, Mr. Lablache," Horrocks replied simply. "And now,
+if you will permit me, I will go down to the settlement to give a few
+orders to my men. Good-morning--er--Miss Allandale; good day, gentlemen.
+You will hear from me to-night."
+
+The officer left in all the pride of his official capacity. And possibly
+his pride was not without reason, for many and smart were the captures
+of evil-doers he had made during his career as a keeper of the peace.
+But we have been told that "pride goeth before a fall." His estimation
+of a "hustler" was not an exalted one. He was accustomed to dealing with
+men who shoot quick and straight--"bad men" in fact--and he was equally
+quick with the gun, and a dead shot himself. Possibly he was a shade
+quicker and a trifle more deadly than the smartest "bad man" known, but
+now he was dealing with a man of all these necessary attainments and
+whose resourcefulness and cleverness were far greater than his own.
+Sergeant Horrocks had a harder road to travel than he anticipated.
+
+Lablache took his departure shortly afterwards, and "Poker" John and his
+niece were left in sole possession of the office at the ranch.
+
+The old man looked thoroughly wearied with the mental effort the
+interview had entailed upon him. And Jacky, watching him, could not help
+noticing how old her uncle looked. She had been a silent observer in the
+foregoing scene, her presence almost ignored by the other actors. Now,
+however, that they were left alone, the old man turned a look of
+appealing helplessness upon her. Such was the rancher's faith in this
+wild, impetuous girl that he looked for her judgment on what had passed
+in that room with the ready faith of one who regards her as almost
+infallible, where human intellect is needed. Nor was the girl, herself,
+slow to respond to his mute inquiry. The swiftness of her answer
+enhanced the tone of her conviction.
+
+"Set a thief to catch a thief, Uncle John. I guess Horrocks, in spite of
+his shifty black eyes, isn't the man for the business. He might track
+the slimmest neche that ever crossed the back of a choyeuse. Lablache is
+the man Retief has to fear. That uncrowned monarch of Foss River is
+subtle, and subtlety alone will serve. Horrocks?" with fine disdain.
+"Say, you can't shoot snipe with a pea-shooter."
+
+"That's so," replied John, with weary thoughtlessness. "Do you know,
+child, I can't help feeling a strange satisfaction that this Retief's
+victim is Lablache. But there, one never knows, when such a man is
+about, who will be the next to suffer. I suppose we must take our chance
+and trust to the protection of the police."
+
+The girl had walked to the window and now stood framed in the casement
+of it. She turned her face back towards the old man as he finished
+speaking, and a quiet little smile hovered round the corners of her
+fresh ripe lips.
+
+"I don't think Retief will bother us any--at least, he never did before.
+Somehow I don't think he's an ordinary rascal." She turned back to the
+window. "Hulloa, I guess Bill's coming right along up the avenue."
+
+A moment later "Lord" Bill, lazily cheerful as was his wont, stepped in
+through the open French window. The selling up of his ranch seemed to
+have made little difference to his philosophical temperament. In his
+appearance, perhaps, for now he no longer wore the orthodox dress of the
+rancher. He was clad in a tweed lounging suit, and a pair of
+well-polished, brown leather boots. His headgear alone pertained to the
+prairie. It was a Stetson hat. He was smoking a cigarette as he came up,
+but he threw the insidious weed from him as he entered the room.
+
+"Morning, John. How are you, Jacky? I needn't ask you if you have heard
+the news. I saw Sergeant Horrocks and old Shylock leaving your veranda.
+Hot lot--isn't it? And all Lablache's cattle, too."
+
+A look of deep concern was on his keen face. Lablache might have been
+his dearest friend. Jacky smiled over at him. "Poker" John looked
+pained.
+
+"Guess you're right, Bill," said the rancher. "Hot--very hot. I pity the
+poor devil if Lablache lays a hand on him. Excuse me, boy, I'm going
+down to the barn. We've got a couple of ponies we're breaking to
+harness."
+
+The old man departed. The others watched the burly figure as he passed
+out of the door. His whole personality seemed shrunken of late. The old
+robustness seemed a thing of the past. The last two months seemed to
+have put ten years of ageing upon the kindly old man. Jacky sighed as
+the door closed behind him, and there was no smile in her eyes as she
+turned again to her lover. Bill's face had become serious.
+
+"Well?" in a tone of almost painful anxiety.
+
+The girl had started forward and was leaning with her two brown hands
+upon the back of a chair. Her face was pale beneath her tan, and her
+eyes were bright with excitement. For answer, Bunning-Ford stepped to
+the French window and closed it, having first glanced up and down the
+veranda to see that it was empty. Not a soul was in sight. The tall
+pines, which lined the approach to the house, waved silently in the
+light breeze. The clear sky was gloriously blue. On everything was the
+peace of summer.
+
+The man swung round and came towards the girl. His eagle face was lit up
+by an expression of triumph. He held out his two hands, and the girl
+placed her own brown ones in them. He drew her towards him and embraced
+her in silence. Then he moved a little away from her. His gleaming eyes
+indexed the activity of his mind.
+
+"The cattle are safe--as houses. It was a grand piece of work, dear.
+They would never have faced the path without your help. Say, girlie, I'm
+an infant at handling stock compared with you. Now--what news?"
+
+Jacky was smiling tenderly into the strong face of the man. She could
+not help but wonder at the reckless daring of this man, who so many set
+down as a lazy good-for-nothing. She knew--she had always known, she
+fancied--the strong character which underlay that indolent exterior. It
+never appealed to her to regret the chance that had driven him to use
+his abilities in such a cause. There was too much of the wild half-breed
+blood in her veins to allow her to stop to consider the
+might-have-beens. She gloried in his daring, and something of the spirit
+which had caused her to help her half-brother now forced from her an
+almost worshiping adoration for her lover.
+
+"Horrocks is to spare no expense in tracking--Retief--down." She laughed
+silently. "Lablache is to pay. They are going over the old ground again,
+I guess. The tracks of the cattle. Horrocks is not to be feared. We must
+watch Lablache. He will act. Horrocks will only be his puppet."
+
+Bill pondered before he spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said thoughtfully at last, "that is the best of news. The very
+best. Horrocks can track. He is one of the best at that game. But I have
+taken every precaution. Tracking is useless--waste of time."
+
+"I know that from past experience, Bill. Now that the campaign has
+begun, what is the next move?"
+
+The girl was all eagerness. Her beautiful dark face was no longer pale.
+It was aglow with the enthusiasm of her feelings. Her deep, meaning eyes
+burned with a consuming brilliancy. Framed in its setting of curling,
+raven hair, her face would have rejoiced the heart of the old masters of
+the Van Dyke school. She was wondrously beautiful. Bill gazed upon her
+features with devouring eyes, and thoughts of the wrongs committed by
+Lablache against her and hers teemed through his brain and set his blood
+surging through his veins in a manner that threatened to overbalance his
+usual cool judgment. He forced himself to an outward calmness, however,
+and the lazy tones of his voice remained as easy as ever.
+
+"On the result of the next move much will depend," he said. "It is to be
+a terrific _coup_, and will entail careful planning. It is fortunate
+that the people at the half-breed camp are the friends of--of--Retief."
+
+"Yes, and of mine," put in the girl. Then she added slowly, and as
+though with painful thought, "Say, Bill, be--be careful. I guess you are
+all I have in the world--you and uncle. Do you know, I've kind of seen
+to the end of this racket. Maybe there's trouble coming. Who's to be
+lagged I can't say. There are shadows around, Bill; the place fairly
+hums with 'em. Say, don't--don't give Lablache a slant at you. I can't
+spare you, Bill."
+
+The tall thin figure of her companion stepped over towards her, and she
+felt herself encircled by his long powerful arms. Then he bent down from
+his great height and kissed her passionately upon the lips.
+
+"Take comfort, little girl. This is a war, if necessary, to the death.
+Should anything happen to me, you may be sure that I leave you freed
+from the snares of old Shylock. Yes, I will be careful, Jacky. We are
+playing for a heavy stake. You may trust me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+AMONG THE HALF-BREEDS
+
+
+Lablache was not a man of variable moods. He was too strong; his purpose
+in life was too strong for any vacillation of temper. His one aim--his
+whole soul--was wrapt in a craving for money-making and the inevitable
+power which the accumulation of great wealth must give him. In all his
+dealings he was perfectly--at least outwardly--calm, and he never
+allowed access to anger to thwart his ends. An inexorable purpose
+governed his actions to an extent which, while his feelings might
+undergo paroxysms of acute changes, never permitted him to make a false
+move or to show his hand prematurely. But this latest reverse had upset
+him more than he had ever been upset in his life, and all the great
+latent force of his character had suddenly, as it were, been
+precipitated into a torrent of ungovernable fury. He had been wounded
+deeply in the most vulnerable spot in his composition. Thirty-five
+thousands of his precious dollars ruthlessly torn from his capacious and
+retentive money-bags. Truly it was a cruel blow, and one well calculated
+to disturb the even tenor of his complacency.
+
+Thought was very busy within that massive head as he lumped heavily
+along from John Allandale's house in the direction of his own store.
+Some slight satisfaction was his at the reflection of the prompt
+assistance he had obtained from the police. It was the satisfaction of a
+man who lived by the assistance of the law, of a man who, in his own
+inordinate arrogance, considered that the law was made for such as he,
+to the detriment of those who attempt to thwart the rich man's purpose.
+He knew Horrocks to be capable, and although he did not place too much
+reliance on that astute prairie-man's judgment--he always believed in
+his own judgment first--still, he knew that he could not have obtained
+better assistance, and was therefore as content as circumstances would
+permit. That he was sanguine of recovering his property was doubtful.
+Lablache never permitted himself the luxury of optimism. He set himself
+a task and worked steadily on to the required end. So he had decided
+now. He did not permit himself to dwell on the desired result, or to
+anticipate. He would simply leave no stone unturned to bring about the
+recovery of his stolen property.
+
+He moved ponderously along over the smooth dusty road, and at last
+reached the market-place. The settlement was drowsily quiet. Life of a
+sort was apparent but it was chiefly "animal." The usual number of dogs
+were moving about, or peacefully basking in the sun; a few saddle horses
+were standing with dejected air, hitched to various tying-posts. A
+buckboard and team was standing outside his own door. The sound of the
+smith's hammer falling upon the anvil sounded plaintively upon the
+calmness of the sleepy village. In spite of the sensational raid of the
+night before, Foss River displayed no unusual activity.
+
+At length the great man reached his office, and threw himself, with
+great danger to his furniture, into his capacious wicker chair. He was
+in no mood for business. Instead he gazed long and thoughtfully out of
+his office window. What somber, vengeful thoughts were teeming through
+his brain would be hard to tell, his mask-like face betrayed nothing.
+His sphinx-like expression was a blank.
+
+In this way half an hour and more passed. Then his attention became
+fixed upon a tall figure sauntering slowly towards the settlement from
+the direction of Allandale's ranch. In a moment Lablache had stirred
+himself, and a pair of field-glasses were leveled at the unconscious
+pedestrian. A moment later an exclamation of annoyance broke from the
+money-lender.
+
+"Curse the man! Am I never to be rid of this damned Englishman?" He
+stood now gazing malevolently at the tall figure of the Hon.
+Bunning-Ford, who was leisurely making his way towards the village. For
+the time being the channel of Lablache's thoughts had changed its
+direction. He had hoped, in foreclosing his mortgages on the
+Englishman's property, to have rid Foss River of the latter's, to him,
+hateful presence. But since misfortune had come upon "Lord" Bill, the
+Allandales and he had become closer friends than ever. This effort had
+been one of the money-lender's few failures, and failure galled him with
+a bitterness the recollection of which no success could eliminate. The
+result was a greater hatred for the object of his vengeance, and a
+lasting determination to rid Foss River of the Englishman forever. And
+so he remained standing and watching until, at length, the entrance of
+one of his clerks, to announce that the saloon dinner-time was at hand,
+brought him out of his cruel reverie, and he set off in quest of the
+needs of his inner man, a duty which nothing, of whatever importance,
+was allowed to interfere with.
+
+In the meantime, Horrocks, or, as he was better known amongst his
+comrades, "the Ferret," was hot upon the trail of the lost cattle.
+Horrocks bristled with energy at every point, and his men, working with
+him, had reason to be aware of the fact. It was an old saying amongst
+them that when "the Ferret" was let loose there was no chance of bits
+rusting. In other words, his mileage report to his chiefs would be a
+long one.
+
+As the sergeant anticipated, it was child's play to track the stolen
+herd. The tracks left by the fast-driven cattle was apparent to the
+veriest greenhorn, and Horrocks and his men were anything but
+greenhorns.
+
+Long before evening closed in they had followed the footprints right
+down to the edge of the great muskeg, and already Horrocks anticipated a
+smart capture. But his task seemed easier than it really was. On the
+brink of the keg the tracks became confused. With some difficulty the
+sleuth instincts of these accomplished trackers led them to follow the
+marks for a mile and a half along the edge of the mire, then, it seemed,
+the herd had been turned and driven with great speed back on their
+tracks. But worse confusion became apparent; and "the Ferret" soon
+realized that the herd had been driven up and down along the border of
+the great keg with a view to evading further pursuit. So frequently had
+this been done that it was impossible to further trace the stock, and
+the sun was already sinking when Horrocks dismounted, and with him his
+men were at last forced to acknowledge defeat.
+
+He had come to a standstill with a stretch of a mile and a half of
+cattle tracks before him. There was no sign further than this of where
+the beasts had been driven. The keg itself gave no clew. It was as green
+and trackless as ever, and again on the land side there was not a single
+foot-print beyond the confused marks along the quagmire's dangerous
+border.
+
+The work of covering retreat had been carried out by a master hand, and
+Horrocks was not slow to acknowledge the cleverness of the raider. With
+all one good prairie man's appreciation for another he detected a foeman
+worthy of his steel, and he warmed to the problem set out before him.
+The troopers waited for their superior's instructions. As "the Ferret"
+did not speak one of the men commented aloud.
+
+"Smart work, sergeant," he said quietly. "I'm not surprised that this
+fellow rode roughshod over the district for so long and escaped all who
+were sent to nab him. He's clever, is P. Retief, Esq."
+
+Horrocks was looking out across the great keg. Strangely enough they had
+halted within twenty yards of the willow bush, at which point the secret
+path across the mire began. The man with the gold chevrons upon his arm
+ignored the remark of his companion, but answered with words which
+occurred in his own train of thought.
+
+"It's plain enough, I guess. Yonder is the direction taken by the
+cattle," he said, nodding his head towards the distant peaks of the
+mountains beyond. "But who's got the nerve to follow 'em? Say," he went
+on sharply, "somewhere along this bank, I mean in the mile and a half of
+hoof marks, there's a path turns out, or, at least, firm ground by which
+it is possible to cross this devil's keg. It must be so. Cattle can't be
+spirited away. Unless, of course--but no, a man don't duff cattle to
+drown 'em in a swamp. They've crossed this pernicious mire, boys. We may
+nab our friend, Retief, but we'll never clap eyes on those beasts."
+
+"It's the same old business over again, sergeant," said one of the
+troopers. "I was on this job before, and I reckon we landed hereabouts
+every time we lit on Retief's trail. But we never got no further. Yonder
+keg is a mighty hard nut to crack. I guess the half-breed's got the
+bulge on us. If path across the mire there is he knows it and we don't,
+and, as you say, who's goin' to follow him?" Having delivered himself of
+these sage remarks he stepped to the brink of the mire and put his foot
+heavily upon its surface. His top-boot sank quickly through the yielding
+crust, and the black subsoil rose with oily, sucking action, 'and his
+foot was immediately buried out of sight. He drew it out sharply, a
+shudder of horror quickening his action. Strong man and hardy as he was,
+the muskeg inspired him with a superstitious terror. "Guess there ain't
+no following them beasties through that, sergeant. Leastways, not for
+me."
+
+Horrocks had watched his subordinate's action thoughtfully. He knew,
+without showing, that no man or beast could attempt to cross the mire
+with any hope of success without the knowledge of some secret path. That
+such a path, or paths, existed he believed, for many were the stories of
+how criminals in past days escaped prairie law by such means. However,
+he had no knowledge of any such paths himself, and he had no intention
+of sacrificing his life uselessly in an attempt to discover the keg's
+most jealously guarded secret.
+
+He turned back to his horse and prepared to vault into the saddle.
+
+"It's no use, boys. We are done for to-day. You can ride back to the
+settlement. I have another little matter on hand. If any of you see
+Lablache just tell him I shall join him in about two hours' time."
+
+Horrocks rode off and his four troopers headed towards the Foss River.
+
+Despite the fact that his horse had been under the saddle for nearly
+eight hours Horrocks rode at a great pace. He was one of those men who
+are always to be found on the prairie--thorough horsemen. Men who, in
+times of leisure, care more for their horses than they do for
+themselves; men who regard their horses as they would a comrade, but
+who, when it becomes a necessity to work or travel, demand every effort
+the animal can make by way of return for the care which has been
+lavished upon it. Such men generally find themselves well repaid. A
+horse is something more than a creature with four legs, one at each
+corner, head out of one end, tail out of the other. There is an old
+saying in the West to the effect that a thorough horseman is worthy of
+man's esteem. The opinion amongst prairie men is that a man who loves
+his horse can never be wholly bad. And possibly we can accept this
+decision upon the subject without question, for their experience in men,
+especially in "bad men," is wide and varied.
+
+Horrocks avoided the settlement, leaving it well to the west, and turned
+his willing beast in the direction of the half-breed camp. There was an
+ex-Government scout living in this camp whom he knew; a man who was
+willing to sell to his late employers any information he chanced to
+possess. It was the officer's intention to see this man and purchase all
+he had to sell, if it happened to be worth buying. Hence his visit to
+the camp.
+
+The evening shadows were fast lengthening when he espied in the distance
+the squalid shacks and dilapidated teepees of the Breeds. There was a
+large colony of those wanderers of the West gathered together in the
+Foss River camp. We have said that these places are hot-beds of crime, a
+curse to the country; but that description scarcely conveys the wretched
+poverty and filthiness of these motley gatherings. From a slight rising
+ground Horrocks looked down on what might have, at first sight, been
+taken for a small village. A scattering of small tumbled-down shacks,
+about fifty in number, set out on the fresh green of the prairie,
+created the first blot of uncleanly, uncouth habitation upon the view.
+Add to these a proportionate number of ragged tents and teepees, a crowd
+of unwashed, and, for the most part, undressed children, a hundred
+fierce and half-starved dogs of the "husky" type. Imagine a stench of
+dung fire cooking, and the gathering of millions of mosquitoes about a
+few choyeuses and fat cattle grazing near by, and the picture as it
+first presents itself is complete.
+
+The approach to such a place makes one almost wish the undulating
+prairie was not quite so fair a picture, for the contrast with man's
+filthy squalor is so great that the feeling of nauseation which results
+is almost overpowering. Horrocks, however, was used to such scenes. His
+duty often took him into worse Breed camps than this. He treated such
+places to a perfectly callous indifference, and regarded them merely as
+necessary evils.
+
+At the first shack he drew up and instantly became the center of
+attention from a pack of yelping dogs and a number of half-fearful,
+wide-eyed ragamuffins, grimy children nearly naked and ranging in age
+from two years up to twelve. Young as the latter were they were an
+evil-looking collection. The noisy greeting of the camp dogs had aroused
+the elders from their indolent repose within the shacks, and Horrocks
+quickly became aware of a furtive spying within the darkened doorways
+and paneless windows.
+
+The reception was nothing unusual to the officer. The Breeds he knew
+always fought shy of the police. As a rule, such a visit as the present
+portended an arrest, and they were never quite sure who the victim was
+to be and the possible consequences. Crime was so common amongst these
+people that in nearly every family it was possible to find one or more
+law-breakers and, more often than not, the delinquent was liable to
+capital punishment.
+
+Ignoring his cool reception, Horrocks hitched his horse to a tree and
+stepped up to the shack, regardless of the vicious snapping of the dogs.
+The children fled precipitately at his approach. At the door of the
+house he halted.
+
+"Hallo there, within!" he called.
+
+There was a moment's pause, and he heard a whispered debate going on in
+the shadowy interior.
+
+"Hey!" he called again. "Get a hustle on, some of you. Get out," he
+snapped sharply, as a great husky, with bristling hair, came snuffing at
+his legs. He aimed a kick at the dog, which, in response, sullenly
+retreated to a safe distance.
+
+The angry tone of his second summons had its effect, and a figure moved
+cautiously within and finally approached the door.
+
+"Eh! what is it?" asked a deep, guttural voice, and a bulky form framed
+itself in the opening.
+
+The police-officer eyed the man keenly. The twilight had so far deepened
+that there was barely sufficient light to distinguish the man's
+features, but Horrocks's survey satisfied him as to the fellow's
+identity. He was a repulsive specimen of the Breed; the dark, lowering
+face had something utterly cruel in its expression. The cast was brutal
+in the extreme; sensual, criminal. The shifty black eyes looked anywhere
+but into the policeman's face.
+
+"That you, Gustave?" said Horrocks, pleasantly enough. He wished to
+inspire confidence. "I'm looking for Gautier. I've got a nice little job
+for him. Do you know where he is?"
+
+"Ugh!" grunted Gustave, heavily, but with a decided air of relief. He
+entertained a wholesome dread of Sergeant Horrocks. Now he became more
+communicative. Horrocks had not come to arrest anybody. "I see," he went
+on, gazing out across the prairie, "this is not a warrant business, eh?
+Guess Gautier is back there," with a jerk of a thumb in a vague
+direction behind him. "He's in his shack. Gautier's just hooked up with
+another squaw."
+
+"Another?" Horrocks whistled softly. "Why, that's the sixth to my
+knowledge. He's very much a marrying man. How much did he pay the neche
+this time?"
+
+"Two steers and a sheep," said the man, with an oily grin.
+
+"Ah! I wonder how he acquired 'em. Well, I'll go and find him. Gautier
+is smart, but he'll land himself in the penitentiary if he goes on
+marrying squaws at that price. Say, which is his shack did you say?"
+
+"Back thar. You'll see it. He's just limed the outside of it. Guess
+white's the color his new squaw fancies most. S'long."
+
+The man was glad to be rid of his visitor. In spite of the sergeant's
+assurance, Gustave never felt comfortable in the officer's presence.
+Horrocks moved off in search of the white hut, while the Breed, with
+furtive eyes, watched his progress.
+
+There was no difficulty in locating the shack in that colony of grime.
+Even in the darkness the gleaming white of the ex-spy's abode stood out
+prominently. The dogs and children now tacitly acknowledged the right of
+the police-officer's presence in their camp, and allowed him to move
+about apparently unnoticed. He wound his way amongst the huts and tents,
+ever watchful and alert, always aiming for Gautier's hut. He knew that
+in this place at night his life was not worth much. A quick aim, and a
+shot from behind, and no one would ever know who had dropped him. But
+the Canadian police are accustomed to take desperate chances in their
+work, and think less of it than do our police patrols in the slums of
+London.
+
+He found Gautier sitting at his hut door waiting for him. Another might
+have been surprised at the Breed's cognizance of the police-officer's
+intentions, but Horrocks knew the habits of these people, and was fully
+alive to the fact that while he had been talking to Gustave a messenger
+was dispatched to warn Gautier that he was sought.
+
+"Well, sergeant, what's your best news?" Gautier asked civilly. He was a
+bright, intelligent-looking, dusky man, of perhaps forty years. His face
+was less brutal than that of the other Breed, but it was none the less
+cunning. He was short and massively built.
+
+"That's just what I've come to ask you, Gautier. I think you can tell me
+all I want to know--if you've a notion to. Say," with a keen look round,
+"can we talk here?"
+
+There was not a soul visible but an occasional playing child. It was
+curious how quiet the camp became. Horrocks was not deceived, however.
+He knew that a hundred pairs of eyes were watching him from the reeking
+recesses of the huts.
+
+"No talk here." Gautier was serious, and his words conveyed a lot. "It's
+bad medicine your coming to-night. But there," with a return to his
+cunning look, "I don't know that I've got anything to tell."
+
+Horrocks laughed softly.
+
+"Yes--yes, I know. You needn't be afraid." Then lowering his voice:
+"I've got a roll of bills in my pocket."
+
+"Ah, then don't stay here talking. There's lots to tell, but they'd kill
+me if they suspected. Where can I see you--quiet-like? They won't lose
+sight of me if they can help it, but I reckon I'm good for the best of
+'em."
+
+The man's attempt to look sincere was almost ludicrous. His cunning eyes
+twinkled with cupidity. Horrocks kept his voice down.
+
+"Right. I shall be at Lablache's store in an hour's time. You must see
+me to-night." Then aloud, for the benefit of listening ears, "You be
+careful what you are doing. This promiscuous buying of wives, with
+cattle which you may have difficulty in accounting for your possession
+of, will lead you into trouble. Mind, I've warned you. Just look to it."
+
+His last sentences were called out as he moved away, and Gautier quite
+understood.
+
+Horrocks did not return the way he had come, but took a circuitous
+route through the camp. He was a man who never lost a chance in his
+work, and now, while he was in the midst of that criminal haunt, he
+thought it as well to take a look round. He hardly knew what he expected
+to find out--if anything. But he required information of Retief, and he
+was fully alive to the fact that all that individual's movements would
+be known here. He trusted to luck to help him to discover something.
+
+The smartest of men have to work against overwhelming odds in the
+detection of crime. Many and devious are the ways of men whose hand is
+against the law. Surely is the best detective a mere babe in the hands
+of a clever criminal. In this instance the very thing that Horrocks was
+in search of was about to be forced upon him. For underlying that
+information was a deep-laid scheme.
+
+Never can reliance be placed in a true half-breed. The heathen Chinee is
+the ideal of truth and honesty when his wiles are compared with the dark
+ways of the Breed. Horrocks, with all his experience, was no match for
+the dusky-visaged outcast of the plains. Gautier had been deputied to
+convey certain information to Lablache by the patriarchs of the camp.
+And with his native cunning he had decided, on the appearance of
+Sergeant Horrocks, to extort a price for that which it was his duty to
+tell. Besides this, as matters had turned out, Horrocks was to receive
+gratis that for which he would shortly pay Gautier.
+
+He had made an almost complete circuit of the camp. Accustomed as he was
+to such places, the stench of it almost made him sick. He came to a
+stand close beside one of the outlying teepees. He was just preparing to
+fill his pipe and indulge in a sort of disinfecting smoke when he became
+aware of voices talking loudly close by. The sound proceeded from the
+teepees. From force of habit he listened. The tones were gruff, and
+almost Indian-like in the brevity of expression. The language was the
+bastard jargon of the French half-breed. For a moment he was doubtful.
+Then his attention became riveted.
+
+"Yes," said one voice, "he is a good man, is Peter. When he has plenty
+he spends it. He does not rob the poor Breed. Only the gross white man.
+Peter is clever. Very."
+
+Then another voice, deep-toned and full, took up the eulogy.
+
+"Peter knows how to spend his money. He spends it among his friends. It
+is good. How much whisky will he buy, think you?"
+
+Another voice chipped in at this point, and Horrocks strained his ears
+to catch the words, for the voice was the voice of a female and her
+utterance was indistinct.
+
+"He said he would pay for everything--all we could eat and drink--and
+that the pusky should be held the night after to-morrow. He will come
+himself and dance the Red River jig. Peter is a great dancer and will
+dance all others down."
+
+Then the first speaker laughed.
+
+"Peter must have a long stocking if he would pay for all. A barrel of
+rye would not go far, and as for food, he must bring several of the
+steers which he took from old Lablache if he would feed us. But Peter is
+always as good as his word. He said he would pay. And he will pay. When
+does he come to prepare?"
+
+"He does not come. He has left the money with Baptiste, who will see to
+everything. Peter will not give 'the Ferret' a chance."
+
+"But how? The dance will be a danger to him," said the woman's voice.
+"What if 'the Ferret' hears?"
+
+"He will not hear, and, besides, Peter will be prepared if the damned
+police come. Have no fear for Peter. He is bold."
+
+The voices ceased and Horrocks waited a little longer. But presently,
+when the voices again became audible, the subject of conversation had
+changed, and he realized that he was not likely to hear more that would
+help him. So, with great caution, he stole quickly away to where his
+horse was tied. He mounted hastily and rode off, glad to be away from
+that reeking camp, and greatly elated with the success of the visit.
+
+He had learned a lot. And he was to hear more yet from Gautier. He felt
+that the renowned "hustler" was already in his clutches. His spurs went
+sharply into his broncho's flanks and he raced over the prairie towards
+the settlement. Possibly he should have known better than to trust to
+the overhearing of that conversation. His knowledge of the Breeds should
+have warned him to put little faith in what he had heard. But he was
+eager. His reputation was largely at stake over this affair, and that
+must be the excuse for the rashness of his faith. However, the penalty
+of his folly was to be his, therefore blame can well be spared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+GAUTIER CAUSES DISSENSION
+
+
+"Sit down and let me hear the--worst."
+
+Lablache's voice rasped harshly as he delivered his mandate. Horrocks
+had just arrived at the money-lender's store after his visit to the
+half-breed camp. The police-officer looked weary. And the dejected
+expression on his face had drawn from his companion the hesitating
+superlative.
+
+"Have you got anything to eat?" Horrocks retorted quickly, ignoring the
+other's commands. "I am famished. Had nothing since I set out from
+Stormy Cloud. I can't talk on an empty stomach."
+
+Lablache struck a table bell sharply, and one of his clerks, all of whom
+were still working in the store, entered. The money-lender's clerks
+always worked early and late. It was part of the great man's creed to
+sweat his _employees_.
+
+"Just go over to the saloon, Markham, and tell them to send supper for
+one--something substantial," he called out after the man, who hastened
+to obey with the customary precipitance of all who served the flinty
+financier.
+
+The man disappeared in a twinkling and Lablache turned to his visitor
+again.
+
+"They'll send it over at once. There's some whisky in that bottle,"
+pointing to a small cabinet, through the glass door of which gleamed the
+white label of "special Glenlivet." "Help yourself. It'll buck you up."
+
+Horrocks obeyed with alacrity, and the genial spirit considerably
+refreshed him. He then reseated himself opposite to his host, who had
+faced round from his desk.
+
+"My news is not the--worst, as you seem to anticipate; although,
+perhaps, it might have been better," the officer began. "In fact, I am
+fairly well pleased with the result of my day's work."
+
+"Which means, I take it, that you have discovered a clew."
+
+Lablache's heavy eyes gleamed.
+
+"Rather more than a clew," Horrocks went on reflectively. "My
+information relates more to the man than to the beasts. We shall, I
+think, lay our hands on this--Retief."
+
+"Good--good," murmured the money-lender, inclining his heavy jowled
+head. "Find the man and we shall recover the cattle."
+
+"I am not so sure of that," put in the other. "However, we shall see."
+
+Lablache looked slightly disappointed. The capture of Retief seemed to
+him synonymous with the recovery of his stock. However, he waited for
+his visitor to proceed. The money-lender was essentially a man to draw
+his own conclusions after hearing the facts, and no opinion of another
+was likely to influence him when once those conclusions were arrived at.
+Lablache was a strong man mentally and physically. And few cared to
+combat his decisions or opinions.
+
+For a moment further talk was interrupted by the entry of a man with
+Horrocks's supper. When the fellow had withdrawn the police-officer
+began his repast and the narration of his story at the same time.
+Lablache watched and listened with an undisturbed concentration. He lost
+no point, however small, in the facts as stated by the officer. He
+refrained from interruption, excepting where the significance of certain
+points in the story escaped him, and, at the conclusion, he was as
+conversant with the situation as though he had been present at the
+investigation. The great man was profoundly impressed with what he
+heard. Not so much with the shrewdness of the officer as with the simple
+significance of the loss of further trace of the cattle at the edge of
+the muskeg. Up to this point of the story he felt assured that Horrocks
+was to be perfectly relied upon, but, for the rest, he was not so sure.
+He felt that though this man was the finest tracker in the country the
+delicate science of deduction was not necessarily an accompaniment to
+his prairie abilities. Therefore, for the moment, he concentrated his
+thoughts upon the features surrounding the great keg.
+
+"It is a curious thing," he said retrospectively, as the policeman
+ceased speaking, "that in all previous raids of this Retief we have
+invariably tracked the lost stock down to this point. Of course, as you
+say, there is not the slightest doubt that the beasts have been herded
+over the keg. Everything seems to me to hinge on the discovery of that
+path. That is the problem which confronts us chiefly. How are we to find
+the secret of the crossing?"
+
+"It cannot be done," said Horrocks, simply but with decision.
+
+"Nonsense," exclaimed the other, with a heavy gasp of breath. "Retief
+knows it, and the others with him. Those cattle could not have been
+herded over single-handed. Now to me it seems plain that the crossing is
+a very open secret amongst the Breeds."
+
+"And I presume you consider that we should work chiefly on that
+hypothesis?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"And you do not consider the possible capture of Retief as being the
+most important feature of the case?"
+
+"Important--certainly. But, for the moment, of minor consideration. Once
+we discover the means by which he secretes his stock--and the
+hiding-place--we can stop his depredations and turn all our energies to
+his capture. You follow me? At first I was inclined to think with you
+that the capture of the man would be the best thing. But now it seems to
+me that the easiest method of procedure will be the discovery of that
+path."
+
+The rasping tone in which Lablache spoke conveyed to the other his
+unalterable conviction. The prairie man, however, remained unconvinced.
+
+"Well," he replied, after a moment's deliberation, "I cannot say I agree
+with you. Open secret or not, I've a notion that we'd stand a better
+chance of discovering the profoundest of state secrets than elicit
+information, even supposing them to possess it, of this description from
+the Breeds. I expect Gautier here in a few minutes; we shall hear what
+he has to say."
+
+"I trust he _may_ have something to say."
+
+Lablache snapped his reply out in that peculiar tone of his which spoke
+volumes. It never failed to anger him to have his opinions gainsaid.
+Then his manner changed slightly, and his mood seemed to become
+contemplative. Horrocks observed the change and wondered what was
+coming. The money-lender cleared his throat and spat into the stove.
+Then he spoke with that slow deliberation which was his when thinking
+deeply.
+
+"Two years ago, when Retief did what he liked in this part of the
+country, there were many stories going about as to his relationship with
+a certain lady in this settlement."
+
+"Miss Allandale--yes, I have heard."
+
+"Just so; some said that she--er--was very partial to him. Some, that
+they were distantly connected. All were of opinion that she knew a great
+deal of the man if she only chose to tell. These stories were
+gossip--merely. These small places are given to gossip. But I must
+confess to a belief that gossip is often--always, in fact--founded on a
+certain amount of fact."
+
+There was no niceness of feeling about this mountain of obesity in
+matters of business. He spoke as callously of the girl, for whom he
+entertained his unholy passion, as he would speak of a stranger. He
+experienced no compunction in linking her name with that of an outlaw.
+His gross nature was of too low an order to hold anything sacred where
+his money-bags were affected.
+
+"Perhaps you--er--do not know," he pursued, carefully lighting his pipe
+and pressing the charred tobacco down with the tip of his little finger,
+"that this girl is the daughter of a Breed mother?"
+
+"Guess I hadn't a notion."
+
+Horrocks's keen eyes flashed with interest. He too lit his pipe as he
+lounged back in his chair.
+
+"She is a quarter-breed, and, moreover, the esteem in which she is held
+by the skulking inhabitants of the camp inclines me to the belief
+that--er--judicious--er--handling--"
+
+"You mean that through her we might obtain the information we require?"
+
+Horrocks punctuated the other's deliberate utterances with hasty
+eagerness. Lablache permitted a vague smile about the corners of his
+mouth, his eyes remained gleaming coldly.
+
+"You anticipate me. The matter would need delicate handling. What Miss
+Allandale has done in the past will not be easy to find out. Granting,
+of course, that gossip has not wronged her," he went on doubtfully. "On
+second thoughts, perhaps you had better leave that source of information
+to me."
+
+He relapsed apparently into deep thought. His pensive deliberation was
+full of guile. He had a purpose to achieve which necessitated the
+suggestion which he had made to this representative of the law. He
+wished to impress upon his companion a certain connivance on the part
+of, at least, one member of the house of Allandale with the doings of
+the raider. He merely wished to establish a suspicion in the mind of the
+officer. Time and necessity might develop it, if it suited Lablache's
+schemes that such should occur. In the meantime he knew he could direct
+this man's actions as he chose.
+
+The calm superiority of the money-lender was not lost upon his
+companion. Horrocks was nettled, and showed it.
+
+"But you'll pardon me, Mr. Lablache. You have offered me a source of
+information which, as a police-officer, it is my duty to sound. As you
+yourself admit, the old stories of a secret love affair may have some
+foundation in fact. Accept that and what possibilities are not opened
+up? Had I been employed on the affairs of Retief, during his previous
+raids, I should certainly have worked upon so important a clew."
+
+"Tut, tut, man," retorted the other, sharply. "I understood you to be a
+keen man at your business. A single ill-timed move in the direction we
+are discussing and the fat will be in the fire. The girl is as smart as
+paint; at the first inkling of your purpose she'll curl up--shut up like
+a rat trap. The Breeds will be warned and we shall be further off
+success than ever. No, no, when it comes to handling Jacky Allandale you
+leave it to me--Ah!"
+
+Lablache's ejaculation was the result of the sudden apparition of a dark
+face peering in at his window. He swung round with lightning rapidity,
+and before Horrocks could realize what he was doing his fat hand was
+grasping the butt of a revolver. Then, with a grunt of annoyance, he
+turned back to his guest.
+
+"That's your Breed, I take it. For the moment I thought it was some one
+else; it's always best in these parts to shoot first and inquire
+afterwards. I occasionally get some strange visitors."
+
+The policeman laughed as he went to the door. His irritation at the
+money-lender's manner was forgotten. The strangeness of the sight of
+Lablache's twenty stone of flesh moving with lightning rapidity
+astonished him beyond measure. Had he not seen it nothing would have
+convinced him of the man's marvelous agility when roused by emergency.
+It was something worth remembering.
+
+Sure enough, the face on the other side of the window belonged to
+Gautier, and, as Horrocks opened the door, the Breed pushed his way
+stealthily in.
+
+"It's all right, boss," said the man, with some show of anxiety, "I've
+slipped 'em. I'm watched pretty closely, but--good evening, sir," he
+went on, turning to Lablache with obsequious politeness. "This is bad
+medicine--this business we're on."
+
+Lablache cleared his throat and spat, but deigned no reply. He intended
+to take no part in the ensuing conversation. He only wished to observe.
+
+Horrocks at once became the officer to the subordinate. He turned
+sharply on the Breed.
+
+"Cut the cackle and come to business. Have you anything to tell us about
+this Retief? Out with it sharp."
+
+"That depends, boss," said the man, with a cunning smile. "As you sez.
+Cut the cackle and come to business. Business means a deal, and a deal
+means 'cash pappy.' Wot's the figger?"
+
+There was no obsequious politeness about the fellow now. He was about as
+bad a specimen of the Breed as could well be found. Hence his late
+employment by the authorities. "The worse the Breed the better the spy,"
+was the motto of those whose duty it was to investigate crime. Gautier
+was an excellent spy, thoroughly unscruplous and rapacious. His
+information was always a saleable commodity, and he generally found his
+market a liberal one. But with business instincts worthy of Lablache
+himself he was accustomed to bargain first and impart after.
+
+"See here," retorted Horrocks, "I don't go about blind-folded. Neither
+am I going to fling bills around without getting value for 'em. What's
+your news? Can you lay hands on Retief, or tell us where the stock is
+hidden?"
+
+"Guess you're looking fer somethin' now," said the man, impudently. "Ef
+I could supply that information right off some 'un 'ud hev to dip deep
+in his pocket fur it. I ken put you on to a good even trail, an' fifty
+dollars 'ud be small pay for the trouble an' the danger I'm put to. Wot
+say? Fifty o' the best greenbacks?"
+
+"Mr. Lablache can pay you if he chooses, but until I know that your
+information's worth it I don't part with fifty cents. Now then, we've
+had dealings before, Gautier--dealings which have not always been to
+your credit. You can trust me to part liberally if you've anything
+worth telling, but mind this, you don't get anything beforehand, and if
+you don't tell us all you know, in you go to Calford and a diet of
+skilly'll be your lot for some time to come."
+
+The man's face lowered considerably at this. He knew Horrocks well, and
+was perfectly aware that he would be as good as his word. There was
+nothing to be gained by holding out. Therefore he accepted the
+inevitable with as bad a grace as possible. Lablache kept silence, but
+he was reading the Breed as he would a book.
+
+"See hyar, sergeant," said Gautier, sulkily, "you're mighty hard on the
+Breeds, an' you know it. It'll come back on you, sure, one o' these
+days. Guess I'm going to play the game square. It ain't fur me to bluff
+men o' your kidney, only I like to know that you're going to treat me
+right. Well, this is what I've got to say, an' it's worth fifty as
+you'll 'low."
+
+Horrocks propped himself upon the corner of the money-lender's desk and
+prepared to listen. Lablache's lashless eyes were fixed with a steady,
+unblinking stare upon the half-breed's face. Not a muscle of his own
+pasty, cruel face moved. Gautier was talking to, at least, one man who
+was more cunning and devilish than himself.
+
+The dusky ruffian gave a preliminary cough and then launched upon his
+story with all the flowery embellishments of which his inventive fancy
+was capable. What he had to tell was practically the same as Horrocks
+had overheard. There were a few items of importance which came fresh to
+the police-officer's ears. It stuck Lablache that the man spoke in the
+manner of a lesson well learned, and, in consequence, his keen interest
+soon relaxed. Horrocks, however, judged differently, and saw in the
+man's story a sound corroboration of his own information. As the story
+progressed his interest deepened, and at its conclusion he questioned
+the half-breed closely.
+
+"This pusky. I suppose it will be the usual drunken orgie?"
+
+"I guess," was the laconic rejoinder.
+
+"Any of the Breeds from the other settlements coming over?"
+
+"Can't say, boss. Like enough, I take it."
+
+"And what is Retief's object in defraying all expenses--in giving the
+treat, when he knows that the white men are after him red-hot?"
+
+"Mebbe it's bluff--cheek. Peter's a bold man. He snaps his fingers at
+the police," replied Gautier, illustrating his words with much
+appreciation. He felt he was getting a smack at the sergeant.
+
+"Then Peter's a fool."
+
+"Guess you're wrong thar. Peter's the slickest 'bad man' I've heerd tell
+of."
+
+"We'll see. Now what about the keg? Of course the cattle have crossed
+it. A secret path?"
+
+"Yup."
+
+"Who knows the secret of it?"
+
+"Peter."
+
+"Only?"
+
+The Breed hesitated. His furtive eyes shifted from one face to the other
+of his auditors. Then encountering the fixed stare of both men he
+glanced away towards the window. He seemed uncomfortable under the mute
+inquiry. Then he went on doubtfully.
+
+"I guess thar's others. It's an old secret among the Breeds. An' I've
+heerd tell as some whites knows it."
+
+A swift exchange of meaning glances passed between the two listeners.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Can't say."
+
+"Won't--you mean?"
+
+"No, boss. Ef I knew it 'ud pay me well to tell. Guess I don't know.
+I've tried to find out."
+
+"Now look you. Retief has always been supposed to have been drowned in
+the keg. Where's he been all the time?"
+
+The half-breed grinned. Then his face became suddenly serious. He began
+to think the cross-questioning was becoming too hot He decided to draw
+on his imagination.
+
+"Peter was no more drowned than I was. He tricked you--us all--into that
+belief. Gee!--but he's slick. Peter went to Montana. When the States got
+too sultry fur 'im he jest came right back hyar. He's been at the camp
+fur two weeks an' more."
+
+Horrocks was silent after this. Then he turned to Lablache.
+
+"Anything you'd like to ask him?"
+
+The money-lender shook his head and Horrocks turned back to his man.
+
+"I guess that's all. Here's your fifty," he went on, taking a roll of
+bills from his pocket and counting out the coveted greenbacks. "See and
+don't get mad drunk and get to shooting. Off you go. If you learn
+anything more I'm ready to pay for it."
+
+Gautier took the bills and hastily crammed them into his pocket as if he
+feared he might be called upon to return them. Then he made for the
+door. He hesitated before he passed out.
+
+"Say, sergeant, you ain't goin' fur to try an' take 'im at the pusky?"
+he asked, with an appearance of anxiety.
+
+"That's my business. Why?"
+
+The Breed shrugged.
+
+"Ye'll feed the coyotes, sure as--kingdom come. Say they'll jest flay
+the pelt off yer."
+
+"Git!"
+
+The rascal "got" without further delay or evil prophecy. He knew
+Horrocks.
+
+When the door closed, and the officer had assured himself of the man's
+departure, he turned to his host.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well?" retorted Lablache.
+
+"What do you make of it?"
+
+"An excellent waste of fifty dollars."
+
+Lablache's face was expressive of indifference mixed with incredulity.
+
+"He told you what you already knew," he pursued, "and drew on his
+imagination for the rest. I'll swear that Retief has not been seen at
+the Breed camp for the last fortnight. Moreover, that man was reciting a
+carefully-thought-out tale. I fancy you have something yet to learn in
+your business, Horrocks. You have not the gift of reading men."
+
+The police-officer's face was a study. As he listened to the masterful
+tone of his companion his color came and went. His dark skin flushed and
+then rapidly paled. A blaze of anger leapt into his keen, flashing eyes.
+Lablache had flicked him sorely. He struggled to keep cool.
+
+"Unfortunately my position will not allow me to fall out with you," he
+said, with scarcely-suppressed heat, "otherwise I should call you
+sharply to account for your insulting remarks. For the moment we will
+pass them over. In the meantime, Mr. Lablache, let me tell you, my
+experience leads me to trust largely to the story of that man. Gautier
+has sold me a good deal of excellent information in the past, and I am
+convinced that what I have now heard is not the least of his efforts in
+the law's behalf. Rascal--scoundrel--as he is, he would not dare to set
+me on a false scent--"
+
+"Not if backed by a man like Retief--and all the half-breed camp? You
+surprise me."
+
+Horrocks gritted his teeth but spoke sharply. Lablache's supercilious
+tone of mockery drove him to the verge of madness.
+
+"Not even under these circumstances. I shall attend that pusky and
+effect the arrest. I understand these people better than you give me
+credit for. I presume your discretion will not permit you to be present
+at the capture?"
+
+It was Horrocks's turn to sneer now. Lablache remained unmoved. He
+merely permitted the ghost of a smile.
+
+"My discretion will not permit me to be present at the pusky. There will
+be no capture, I fear."
+
+"Then I'll bid you good-night. There is no need to further intrude upon
+your time."
+
+"None whatever."
+
+The money-lender did not attempt to show the policeman any
+consideration. He had decided that Horrocks was a fool, and when
+Lablache formed such an opinion of a man he rarely attempted to conceal
+it, especially when the man stood in a subordinate position.
+
+After seeing the officer off the premises, Lablache moved heavily back
+to his desk. The alarm clock indicated ten minutes to nine. He stood for
+some moments gazing with introspective eyes at the timepiece. He was
+thinking hard. He was convinced that what he had just heard was a mere
+fabrication, invented to cover some ulterior motive. That motive puzzled
+him. He had no fear for Horrocks's life. Horrocks wore the uniform of
+the Government. Lawless and all as the Breeds were, he knew they would
+not resist the police--unless, of course, Retief were there. Having
+decided in his mind that Retief would not be there he had no misgivings.
+He failed to fathom the trend of affairs at all. In spite of his outward
+calm he felt uneasy, and he started as though he had been shot when he
+heard a loud knocking at his private door.
+
+The money-lender's hand dropped on to the revolver lying upon the desk,
+and he carried the weapon with him when he went to answer the summons.
+His alarm was needless. His late visitor was "Poker" John.
+
+The old rancher came in sheepishly enough. There was no mistaking the
+meaning of his peculiar crouching gait, the leering upward glance of his
+bloodshot eyes. To any one who did not know him, his appearance might
+have been that of a drink-soaked tramp, so dishevelled and bleared he
+looked. Lablache took in the old man's condition in one swift glance
+from his pouched and fishy eyes. His greeting was cordial--too cordial.
+Any other but the good-hearted, simple old man would have been
+suspicious of it. Cordiality was not Lablache's nature.
+
+"Ah, John, better late than never," he exclaimed gutturally. "Come in
+and have a smoke."
+
+"Yes, I thought I'd just come right down and--see if you'd got any
+news."
+
+"None--none, old friend. Nothing at all. Horrocks is a fool, I'm
+thinking. Take that chair," pointing to the basket chair. "You're not
+looking up to the mark. Have a nip of Glenlivet."
+
+He passed the white-labeled bottle over to his companion, and watched
+the rancher curiously as he shakily helped himself to a liberal "four
+fingers." "Poker" John was rapidly breaking up. Lablache fully realized
+this.
+
+"No news--no news," murmured John, as he smacked his lips over his "tot"
+of whisky. "It's bad, man, very bad. We're not safe in this place whilst
+that man's about. Dear, dear, dear."
+
+The senility of the rancher was painfully apparent. Doubtless it was the
+result of his recent libations and excesses. The money-lender was quite
+aware that John had not come to him to discuss the "hustler." He had
+come to suggest a game of cards, but for reasons of his own the former
+wished to postpone the request. He had not expected that "Poker" John
+would have come this evening; therefore, certain plans of his were not
+to have been put into execution until the following day. Now, however,
+it was different. John's coming, and his condition, offered him a chance
+which was too good to be missed, and Lablache was never a man to miss
+opportunities.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE NIGHT OF THE PUSKY
+
+
+Presently the old man drew himself up a little. The spirit had a bracing
+effect upon him. The dull leering eyes assumed a momentary brightness,
+and he almost grew cheerful. The change was not lost upon Lablache. It
+was a veritable game of the cat and the mouse.
+
+"This is the first time your stock has been touched," said John,
+meaninglessly. His thoughts were running upon the game of cards he had
+promised himself. An unaccountable lack of something like moral courage
+prevented him talking of it. Possibly it was the iron influence of his
+companion which forbade the suggestion of cards. "Poker" John was
+inwardly chafing at his own weakness.
+
+"Yes," responded the other, "I have not been touched before." Then,
+suddenly, he leant forward, and, for the moment, the money-lender's face
+lit up with something akin to kindliness. It was an unusual sight, and
+one not to be relied upon. "How many years is it, John, that we have
+struggled side by side in this benighted land?"
+
+The rancher looked at the other, then his eyes dropped. He scarcely
+comprehended. He was startled at the expression of that leathery, puffed
+face. He shifted uneasily with the curious weakly restlessness of a
+shattered nerve.
+
+"More years, I guess, than I care to think of," he murmured at last.
+
+"Yes, yes, you're right, John--quite right. It doesn't do to look back
+too far. We're getting on. But we're not old men yet. We're rich, John,
+rich in land and experience. No, not so old. We can still give the
+youngsters points, John. Ha, ha!"
+
+Lablache laughed hollowly at his own pleasantry. His companion joined
+in the laugh, but without mirth. Poker--he could think of nothing but
+poker. The money-lender insinuatingly pushed the whisky bottle closer to
+the senile rancher. Almost unconsciously the old man helped himself.
+
+"I wonder what it would be like living a private, idle life?" Lablache
+went on, as though speaking to himself. Then directly to his companion,
+"Do you know, old friend, I'm seriously thinking of selling out all my
+interests and retiring. I've worked very hard--very hard. I'm getting
+tired of it all. Sometimes I feel that rest would be good. I have
+amassed a very large fortune, John--as you know."
+
+The confidences of the money-lender were so unusual that "Poker" John,
+in a dazed way, mildly wondered. The whisky had roused him a good deal
+now, and he felt that it was good to talk like this. He felt that the
+money-lender was a good fellow, and much better than he had thought. He
+even experienced compunction for the opinions which, at times, he had
+expressed of this old companion. Drink plays strange pranks with one's
+better judgment at times. Lablache noted the effect of his words
+carefully.
+
+"Yes," said John, "you have worked hard--we have both worked hard. Our
+lives have not been altogether without pleasure. The occasional game of
+cards we have had together has always helped to relieve monotony, eh,
+Lablache? Yes--yes. No one can say we have not earned rest. But
+there--yes, you have been more fortunate than I. I could not retire."
+
+Lablache raised his sparse eyebrows. Then he helped himself to some
+whisky and pushed the bottle over to the other. When John had again
+replenished his glass the money-lender solemnly raised his and waved it
+towards the gray-headed old man. John responded unsteadily.
+
+"How!"
+
+"How!" replied the rancher.
+
+Both men drank the old Indian toast. Simple honesty was in one heart,
+while duplicity and low cunning filled the other.
+
+"You could not retire?" said Lablache, when they had set their empty
+glasses upon the desk.
+
+"No--no," answered the other, shaking his head with ludicrous
+mournfulness, "not retire; I have responsibilities--debts. You should
+know. I must pay them off. I must leave Jacky provided for."
+
+"Yes, of course. You must pay them off. Jacky should be your first
+consideration."
+
+Lablache pursed his sensual lips. His expression was one of deep
+concern. Then he apparently fell into a reverie, during which John was
+wondering how best to propose the longed-for game of cards. The other
+roused himself before the desired means suggested itself to the old
+gambler. And his efforts were cut short abruptly.
+
+"Jacky ought to marry," Lablache said without preamble. "One never knows
+what may happen. A good husband--a man with money and business capacity,
+would be a great help to you, and would assure her future."
+
+Lablache had touched upon the one strong point which remained in John
+Allandale's character. His love for Jacky rivaled his passion for poker,
+and in its pure honesty was perhaps nearly as strong as that feverish
+zest. The gambler suddenly became electrified into a different being.
+The signs of decay--the atmosphere of drink, as it were, fell from him
+in the flashing of a second, and the old vigorous rancher, like the last
+dying flame of a fire, shot up into being.
+
+"Jacky shall marry when she chooses, and whatever man she prefers. I
+will never profit by that dear child's matrimonial affairs," he said
+simply.
+
+Lablache bit his lips. He had been slightly premature. He acquiesced
+with a heavy nod of the head and poured himself out some more whisky.
+The example was natural and his companion followed it.
+
+"You are quite right, John. I merely spoke from a worldly point of
+view. But your decision affects me closely."
+
+The other looked curiously at the money-lender, who thus found himself
+forced to proceed. Hitherto he had chosen his own gait. Now he felt
+himself being drawn. The process was new to him, but it suited his
+purpose.
+
+"How?"
+
+Lablache sighed. It was like the breathing of an adipose pig.
+
+"I have known that niece of yours, John, ever since she came into this
+world. I have watched her grow. I understand her nature as well as you
+do yourself. She is a clever, bright, winsome girl. But she needs the
+guiding hand of a good husband."
+
+"Just so. You are right. I am too old to take proper care of her. When
+she chooses she shall marry."
+
+John's tone was decisive. His words were non-committing and open to no
+argument. Lablache went on.
+
+"Supposing now a rich man, a very rich man, proposed marriage for her.
+Presuming he was a man against whom there was no doubtful record--who,
+from a worldly point of view, there could be no objection to--should you
+object to him as a husband for Jacky?"
+
+The rancher was still unsuspecting.
+
+"What I have stated should answer your question. If Jacky were willing I
+should have no objection."
+
+"Supposing," the money-lender went on, "she were unwilling, but was
+content to abide by your decision. What then?"
+
+There was a passing gleam of angry protest in the rancher's eyes as he
+answered.
+
+"What I have said still holds good," he retorted a little hotly. "I will
+not influence the child."
+
+"I am sorry. I wish to marry your girl."
+
+There was an impressive silence after this announcement. "Poker" John
+stared in blank wonderment at his companion. The expectation of such a
+contingency could not have been farther from his thought. Lablache--to
+many his niece--it was preposterous--ludicrous. He would not take it
+seriously--he could not. It was a joke--and not a nice one.
+
+He laughed--and in his laugh there was a ring of anger.
+
+"Of course you are joking, Lablache," he said at last. "Why, man, you
+are old enough to be the girl's father."
+
+"I was never more serious in my life. And as for age," with a shrug, "at
+least you will admit my intellect is unimpaired. Her interests will be
+in safe keeping."
+
+Having recovered from his surprise the old man solemnly shook his head.
+Some inner feeling made him shrink from thoughts of Lablache as a
+husband for his girl. Besides, he had no intention of retreating from
+the stand he had taken.
+
+"As far as I am concerned the matter is quite impossible. If Jacky comes
+to me with a request for sanction of her marriage to you, she shall have
+it. But I will express no wish upon the matter. No, Lablache, I never
+thought you contemplated such a thing. You must go to her. I will not
+interfere. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" and the old man laughed again nervously.
+
+Lablache remained perfectly calm. He had expected this result; although
+he had hoped that it might have been otherwise. Now he felt that he had
+paved the way to methods much dearer to his heart. This refusal of
+John's he intended to turn to account. He would force an acceptance from
+Jacky, and induce her uncle, by certain means, to give his consent.
+
+The money-lender remained silent while he refilled his pipe. "Poker"
+John seized the opportunity.
+
+"Come, Lablache," he said jocosely, "let us forget this little matter.
+Have a drink of your own whisky--I'll join you--and let us go down to
+the saloon for a gentle flutter."
+
+He helped himself to the spirit and poured out a glass for his
+companion. They silently drank, and then Lablache coughed, spat and lit
+his pipe. He fumbled his hat on to his head and moved to the door.
+
+"Come on, then," he said gutturally. And John Allandale followed him
+out.
+
+The two days before the half-breed pusky passed quickly enough for some
+of those who are interested, and dragged their weary lengths all too
+slowly for others. At last, however, in due course the day dawned, and
+with it hopes and fears matured in the hearts of not a few of the
+denizens of Foss River and the surrounding neighborhood.
+
+To all appearance the most unconcerned man was the Hon. Bunning-Ford,
+who still moved about the settlement in his cheery, _debonnaire_
+fashion, ever gentlemanly and always indolent. He had taken up his
+residence in one of the many disused shacks which dotted round the
+market-place, and there, apparently, sought to beguile the hours and eke
+out the few remaining dollars which were his. For Lablache, in his
+sweeping process, had still been forced to hand over some money, over
+and above his due, as a result of the sale of the young rancher's
+property. The trifling amount, however, was less than enough to keep
+body and soul together for six months.
+
+Lablache, too, staunch to his opinions, did not trouble himself in the
+least. For the rest, all who knew of the meditated _coup_ of Horrocks
+were agitated to a degree. All hoped for success, but all agreed in a
+feeling of pessimism which was more or less the outcome of previous
+experiences of Retief. Did not they know, only too well, of the traps
+which had been laid and which had failed to ensnare the daring desperado
+in days gone by? Horrocks they fondly believed to be a very smart man,
+but had not some of the best in the Canadian police been sent before to
+bring to justice this scourge of the district?
+
+Amongst those who shared these pessimistic views Mrs. Abbot was one of
+the most skeptical. She had learnt all the details of the intended
+arrest in the way she learned everything that was going on. A few
+judicious questions to the doctor and careful observations never left
+her long in the dark. She had a natural gift for absorbing information.
+She was a sort of social amalgam which never failed to glean the golden
+particles of news which remained after the "panning up" of daily events
+in Foss River. Nothing ever escaped this dear old soul, from the details
+of a political crisis in a distant part of the continent down to the
+number of drinks absorbed by some worthless half-breed in "old man"
+Smith's saloon. She had one of those keen, active brains which refuses
+to become dull and torpid in an atmosphere of humdrum monotony. Luckily
+her nature never allowed her to become a mischievous busybody. She was
+too kindly for that--too clever, tactful.
+
+After duly weighing the point at issue she found Horrocks's plans
+wanting, hence her unbelief, but, at the same time, her old heart
+palpitated with nervous excitement as might the heart of any younger and
+more hopeful of those in the know.
+
+As for the Allandales, it would be hard to say what they thought. Jacky
+went about her duties with a placidity that was almost worthy of the
+great money-lender himself. She showed no outward sign, and very little
+interest. Her thoughts she kept severely to herself. But she had
+thoughts on the subject, thoughts which teemed through her brain night
+and day. She was in reality aglow with excitement, but the Breed nature
+in her allowed no sign of emotion to appear. "Poker" John was beyond a
+keen interest. Whisky and cards had done for him what morphine and opium
+does for the drug fiend. He had no thoughts beyond them. In lucid
+intervals, as it were, he thought, perhaps, as well as his poor dulled
+brain would permit him, but the result of his mental effort would
+scarcely be worth recording.
+
+And so the time drew near.
+
+Horrocks, since his difference of opinion with Lablache, had made the
+ranch his headquarters, leaving the money-lender as much as possible out
+of his consultations. He had been heartily welcomed by old John and his
+niece, the latter in particular being very gracious to him. Horrocks
+was not a lady's man, but he appreciated comfort when he could get it,
+and Jacky spared no trouble to make him comfortable now. Had he known
+the smiling thought behind her beautiful face his appreciation might
+have lessened.
+
+As the summer day drew to a close signs of coming events began to show
+themselves. First of all Aunt Margaret made her appearance at the
+Allandales' house. She was hot and excited. She had come up for a
+gossip, she said, and promptly sat down with no intention of moving
+until she had heard all she wanted to know. Then came "Lord" Bill,
+cheerily monosyllabic. He always considered that long speeches were a
+disgusting waste of time. Following closely upon his heels came the
+doctor and Pat Nabob, with another rancher from an outlying ranch. Quite
+why they had come up they would have hesitated to say. Possibly it was
+curiosity--possibly natural interest in affairs which nearly affected
+them. Horrocks, they knew, was at the ranch. Perhaps the magnetism which
+surrounds persons about to embark on hazardous undertakings had
+attracted them thither.
+
+As the hour for supper drew near the gathering in the sitting-room
+became considerable, and as each newcomer presented himself, Jacky, with
+thoughtful hospitality, caused another place to be set at her bountiful
+table. No one was ever allowed to pass a meal hour at the ranch without
+partaking of refreshment. It was one of the principal items provided for
+in the prairie creed, and the greatest insult to be offered at such time
+would have been to leave the house before the repast.
+
+At eight o'clock the girl announced the meal with characteristic
+heartiness.
+
+"Come right along and feed," she said. "Who knows what to-night may
+bring forth? I guess we can't do better than drink success to our
+friend, Sergeant Horrocks. Whatever the result of his work to-night we
+all allow his nerve's right. Say, good people, there's liquor on the
+table--and glasses; a bumper to Sergeant Horrocks."
+
+The wording of the girl's remarks was significant. Truly Horrocks might
+have been the leader of a forlorn hope. Many of those present certainly
+considered him to be such. However, they were none the less hearty in
+their toast, and Jacky and Bill were the two first to raise their
+glasses on high.
+
+The toast drunk, tongues were let loose and the supper began. Ten
+o'clock was the time at which Horrocks was to set out. Therefore there
+were two hours in which to make merry. Never was a merrier meal taken at
+the ranch. Spirits were at bursting point, due no doubt to the current
+of excitement which actuated each member of the gathering.
+
+Jacky was in the best of spirits, and even "Poker" John was enjoying one
+of his rare lucid intervals. "Lord" Bill sat between Jacky and Mrs.
+Abbot, and a more charming companion the old lady thought she had never
+met. It was Jacky who led the talk, Jacky who saw to every one's wants,
+Jacky whose spirits cheered everybody, by her light badinage, into, even
+against their better judgment, a feeling of optimism. Even Horrocks felt
+the influence of her bright, winsome cheeriness.
+
+"Capture this colored scoundrel, Sergeant Horrocks," the girl exclaimed,
+with a laughing glance, as she helped him to a goodly portion of baked
+Jack-rabbit, "and we'll present you with the freedom of the settlement,
+in an illuminated address inclosed in a golden casket. That's the mode,
+I take it, in civilized countries, and I guess we are civilized
+hereabout, some. Say, Bill, I opine you're the latest thing from England
+here to-night. What does 'freedom' mean?"
+
+Bill looked dubious. Everybody waited for his answer.
+
+"Freedom--um. Yes, of course--freedom. Why, freedom means banquets. You
+know--turtle soup--bile--indigestion. Best champagne in the mayor's
+cellar. Police can't run you in if you get drunk. All that sort of
+thing, don'tcherknow."
+
+"An excellent definition," laughed the doctor.
+
+"I wish somebody would present me with 'freedom,'" said Nabob,
+plaintively.
+
+"It's a good thing we don't go in for that sort of thing extensively in
+Canada," put in Horrocks, as the representative of the law. "The
+peaceful pastime of the police would soon be taken from them. Why, the
+handling of 'drunks' is our only recreation."
+
+"That, and for some of them the process of lowering four per cent.
+beer," added the doctor, quietly.
+
+Another laugh followed the doctor's sally.
+
+When the mirth had subsided Aunt Margaret shook her head. This levity
+rather got on her nerves. This Retief business, as she understood it,
+was a very serious affair, especially for Sergeant Horrocks. She was
+keenly anxious to hear the details of his preparations. She knew most of
+them, but she liked her information first hand. With this object in view
+she suggested, rather than asked, what she wanted to know.
+
+"But I don't quite understand. I take it you are going single-handed
+into the half-breed camp, where you expect to find this Retief, Sergeant
+Horrocks?"
+
+Horrocks's face was serious as he looked over at the old lady. There was
+no laughter in his black, flashing eyes. He was not a man given to
+suavity. His business effectually crushed any approach to that sort of
+thing. He was naturally a stern man, too.
+
+"I am not quite mad, madam," he said curtly. "I set some value upon my
+life."
+
+This crushing rejoinder had no effect upon Aunt Margaret. She still
+persisted.
+
+"Then, of course, you take your men with you. Four, you have, and smart
+they look, too. I like to see well-set-up men. I trust you will succeed.
+They--I mean the Breeds--are a dangerous people."
+
+"Not so dangerous as they're reckoned, I guess," said Horrocks,
+disdainfully. "I don't anticipate much trouble."
+
+"I hope it will turn out as you think," replied the old lady,
+doubtfully.
+
+Horrocks shrugged his shoulders; he was not to be drawn.
+
+There was a moment's silence after this, which was at length broken by
+"Poker" John.
+
+"Of course, Horrocks," he said, "we shall carry out your instructions to
+the letter. At three in the morning, failing your return or news of you,
+I set out with my ranch hands to find you. And woe betide those black
+devils if you have come to harm. By the way, what about your men?"
+
+"They assemble here at ten. We leave our horses at Lablache's stables.
+We are going to walk to the settlement."
+
+"I think you are wise," said the doctor.
+
+"Guess horses would be an encumbrance," said Jacky.
+
+"An excellent mark for a Breed's gun," added Bill. "Seems to me you'll
+succeed," he went on politely. His eagle face was calmly sincere. The
+gray eyes looked steadily into those of the officer's. Jacky was
+watching her lover keenly. The faintest suspicion of a smile was in her
+eyes.
+
+"I should like to be there," she said simply, when Bill had finished.
+"It's mean bad luck being a girl. Say, d'you think I'd be in the way,
+sergeant?"
+
+Horrocks looked over at her, and in his gaze was a look of admiration.
+In the way he knew she would be, but he could not tell her so. Such
+spirit appealed to him.
+
+"There would be much danger for you, Miss Jacky," he said. "My hands
+would be full, I could not look after you, and besides--" He broke off
+at the recollection of the old stories about this girl. Suddenly he
+wondered if he had been indiscreet. What if the stories were true. He
+ran cold at the thought. These people knew his plans. Then he looked
+into the girl's beautiful face. No, it must be false. She could have
+nothing in common with the rascally Breeds.
+
+"And besides--what?" Jacky said, smiling over at the policeman.
+
+Horrocks shrugged.
+
+"When Breeds are drunk they are not responsible."
+
+"That settles it," the girl's uncle said, with a forced laugh. He did
+not like Jacky's tone. Knowing her, he feared she intended to be there
+to see the arrest.
+
+Her uncle's laugh nettled the girl a little, and with a slight elevation
+of her head, she said,--
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Further talk now became impossible, for, at that moment the troopers
+arrived. Horrocks discovered that it was nearly ten o'clock. The moment
+for the start had come, and, with one accord, everybody rose from the
+table. In the bustle and handshaking of departure Jacky slipped away.
+When, she returned the doctor and Mrs. Abbot were in the hall alone with
+"Lord" Bill. The latter was just leaving. "Poker" John was on the
+veranda seeing Horrocks off.
+
+As Jacky came downstairs Aunt Margaret's eyes fell upon the ominous
+holster and cartridge belt which circled the girl's hips. She was
+dressed for riding. There could be no mistaking the determined set of
+her face.
+
+"Jacky, my dear," said the old lady in dismay. "What are you doing?
+Where are you going?"
+
+"Guess I'm going to see the fun--I've a notion there'll be some."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Don't 'but' me, Aunt Margaret, I take it you aren't deaf."
+
+The old lady relapsed into dignified silence, but there was much concern
+and a little understanding in her eyes as she watched the girl pass out
+to the corrals.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE PUSKY
+
+
+A pusky is a half-breed dance. That is the literal meaning of the word.
+The practical translation, however, is often different. In reality it is
+a debauch--a frightful orgie, when all the lower animal instincts--and
+they are many and strong in the half-breed--are given full sway. When
+drunkenness and bestial passions rule the actions of these worse than
+savages. When murder and crimes of all sorts are committed without
+scruple, without even thought. Latterly things have changed, and these
+orgies are less frequent among the Breeds, or, at least, conducted with
+more regard for decorum. But we are talking of some years ago, at a time
+when the Breeds had to learn the meaning of civilization--before good
+order and government were thoroughly established in this great Western
+country; in the days when Indian "Sun" dances, and other barbarous
+functions were held. In the days of the Red River Jig, when a good
+fiddler of the same was held to be a man of importance; when the method
+of tuning the fiddle to the necessary pitch for the playing of that
+curious dance was a secret known only to a privileged few. Some might
+call them the "good" old days. "Bad" is the adjective which best
+describes that period.
+
+When Horrocks and his men set out for the Breed camp they had discarded
+their police clothes and were clad in the uncouth garb of the
+half-breeds. They had even gone to the length of staining their faces to
+the coppery hue of the Indians. They were a ragged party, these hardy
+riders of the plains, as they embarked on their meditated capture of the
+desperate raider. All of the five were "tough" men, who regarded their
+own lives lightly enough--men who had seen many stirring times, and
+whose hairbreadth escapes from "tight" corners would have formed a
+lengthy narrative in themselves. They were going to they knew not what
+now, but they did not shrink from the undertaking. Their leader was a
+man whose daring often outweighed his caution, but, as they well knew,
+he was endowed with a reckless man's luck, and they would sooner follow
+such as he--for they were sure of a busy time--than work with one of his
+more prudent colleagues.
+
+At the half-breed camp was considerable bustle and excitement. The
+activity of the Breed is not proverbial; they are at best a lazy lot,
+but now men and women came and went bristling with energy to their
+finger tips. Preparations were nearing completion. The chief item of
+importance was the whisky supply, and this the treasurer, Baptiste, had
+made his personal care. A barrel of the vilest "rot-gut" that was ever
+smuggled into prohibition territory had been procured and carefully
+secreted. This formed the chief refreshment, and, doubtless, the
+"bluestone" with which its fiery contents were strengthened, would work
+the passionate natures, on which it was to play, up to the proper
+crime-committing pitch.
+
+The orgie was to be held in a barn of considerable dimensions. It was a
+ramshackle affair, reeking of old age and horses. The roof was decidedly
+porous in places, being so lame and disjointed that the starry
+resplendence of the summer sky was plainly visible from beneath it.
+
+This, however, was a trifling matter, and of much less consequence than
+the question of space. What few horse stalls had once occupied the
+building had been removed, and the mangers alone remained, with the odor
+of horse, to remind the guests of the original purpose of their
+ballroom. A careful manipulation of dingy Turkey red, and material which
+had once been white, struggled vainly to hide these mangers from view,
+while coarse, rough boards which had at one time floored some of the
+stalls, served to cover in the tops and convert them into seats. The
+result was a triumph of characteristic ingenuity. The barn was converted
+into a place of the necessary requirements, but rendered hideous in the
+process.
+
+Next came the disguising of the rafters and "collar-ties" of the
+building. This was a process which lent itself to the curiously warped
+artistic sense of the benighted people. Print--I mean cotton rags--was
+the chief idea of decoration. They understood these stuffs. They were
+cheap--or, at least, as cheap as anything sold at Lablache's store.
+Besides, print decorated the persons of the buxom Breed women, therefore
+what more appropriate than such stuff to cover the nakedness of the
+building. Festoons of print, flags of print, rosettes of print: these
+did duty for the occasion. The staring patterns gleamed on every beam,
+or hung in bald draping almost down to the height of an ordinary man's
+head. The effect was strangely reminiscent of a second-hand clothes
+shop, and helped to foster the nauseating scent of the place.
+
+A row of reeking oil lamps, swinging in crazy wire swings, were
+suspended down the center from the moldering beams, and in the diamond
+window spaces were set a number of black bottles, the neck of each being
+stuffed with a tallow candle.
+
+One corner of the room was set apart for the fiddler, and here a dais of
+rough boarding, also draped in print stuff, was erected to meet the
+requirements of that honored personage. Such was the uncouth place where
+the Breeds proposed to hold their orgie. And of its class it was an
+excellent example.
+
+At ten o'clock the barn was lit up, and strangely bizarre was the
+result. The draught through the broken windows set the candles
+a-guttering, until rivers of yellow fat decorated the black bottles in
+which they were set. The stench from these, and from the badly-trimmed
+coal oil lamps down the center, blended disgustingly with the native
+odor of the place, until the atmosphere became heavy, pungent, revolting
+in the nostrils, and breathing became a labor after the sweet fresh air
+of the prairie outside.
+
+Soon after this the dancers began to arrive. They came in their strange
+deckings of glaring colors, and many and varied were the types which
+soon filled the room. There were old men and there were young men. There
+were girls in their early teens, and toothless hags, decrepit and
+faltering. Faces which, in wild loveliness, might have vied with the
+white beauty of the daughters of the East. Faces seared and crumpled
+with weight of years and nights of debauchery. Men were there of superb
+physique, whilst others crouched huddled, with shuffling gait towards
+the manger seats, to seek rest for their rotting bones, and ease for
+their cramping muscles.
+
+Many of the faces were marred by disease; small-pox was a prevalent
+scourge amongst these people. The effect of the pure air of the prairie
+was lost upon the germ-laden atmosphere which surrounded these dreadful
+camps. Crime, too, was stamped on many of the faces of those gathering
+in the reeking ballroom. The small bullet head with low, receding
+forehead; the square set jaws and sagging lips; the shifty, twinkling
+little eyes, narrow-set and of jetty hue; such faces were plentiful. Nor
+were these features confined to the male sex alone. Truly it was a
+motley gathering, and not pleasant to look upon.
+
+All, as they came, were merry with anticipation; even the hags and the
+rheumatism-ridden male fossils croaked out their quips and coarse
+pleasantries to each other with gleeful unctuousness, inspired by
+thoughts of the generous contents of the secreted barrel. Their watery
+eyes watered the more, as, on entering the room, they glanced round
+seeking to discover the fiery store of liquor, which they hoped to help
+to dispose of. It was a loathsome sight to behold these miserable
+wretches gathering together with no thought in their beast-like brains
+but of the ample food and drink which they intended should fall to their
+share. Crabbed old age seeking rejuvenation in gut-burning spirit.
+
+The room quickly filled, and the chattering of many and strange tongues
+lent an apish tone to the function. The French half-breed predominated,
+and these spoke their bastard lingo with that rapidity and bristling
+elevation of tone which characterizes their Gallic relatives. It seemed
+as though each were trying to talk his neighbor down, and the process
+entailed excited shriekings which made the old barn ring again.
+
+Baptiste, with a perfect understanding of the people, served out the
+spirit in pannikins with a lavish hand. It was as well to inspire these
+folk with the potent liquor from the start, that their energies might be
+fully aroused for the dance.
+
+When all, men and women alike, had partaken of an "eye-opener," Baptiste
+gave the signal, and the fiddler struck up his plaintive wail. The reedy
+strings of his instrument shrieked out the long-drawn measure of a
+miserable waltz, the company paired off, and the dance began.
+
+Whatever else may be the failings of the Breeds they can dance. Dancing
+is as much a part of their nature as is the turning of a dog twice
+before he lies down, a feature of the canine race. Those who were
+physically incapable of dancing lined the walls and adorned the manger
+seats. For the rest, they occupied the sanded floor, and danced until
+the dust clouded the air and added to the choking foulness of the
+atmosphere.
+
+The shrieking fiddle lured this savage people, and its dreadful tone was
+music of the sweetest to their listening ears. This was a people who
+would dance. They would dance so long as they could stand.
+
+More drink followed the first dance. Baptiste had not yet recognized the
+pitch of enthusiasm which must promise a successful evening. The
+quantities of liquor thus devoured were appalling. The zest increased.
+The faces wearing an habitual frown displayed a budding smile. The
+natural smiler grinned broadly. All warmed to the evening's amusement.
+
+Now came the festive barn dance. The moccasined feet pounded the filthy
+floor, and the dust gathered thick round the gums of the hard-breathing
+dancers. The noise of coarse laughter and ribald shoutings increased.
+All were pleased with themselves, but more pleased still with the fiery
+liquid served out by Baptiste. The scene grew more wild as time crept
+on, and the effect of the liquor made itself apparent. The fiddler
+labored cruelly at his wretched instrument. His task was no light one,
+but he spared himself no pains. His measure must be even, his tone
+almost unending to satisfy his countrymen. He understood them, as did
+Baptiste. To fail in his work would mean angry protests from those he
+served, and angry protests amongst the Breeds generally took the form of
+a shower of leaden bullets. So he scraped away with aching limbs, and
+with heavy foot pounding out the time upon the crazy dais. He must play
+until long after daylight, until his fingers cramped, and his old eyes
+would remain open no longer.
+
+Peter Retief had not as yet put in an appearance. Horrocks was at his
+post viewing the scene from outside one of the broken windows. His men
+were hard by, concealed at certain points in the shelter of some
+straggling bush which surrounded the stable. Horrocks, with
+characteristic energy and disregard for danger, had set himself the task
+of spying out the land. He had a waiting game to play, but the result he
+hoped would justify his action.
+
+The scene he beheld was not new to him, his duties so often carried him
+within the precincts of a half-breed camp. No one knew the Breeds better
+than did this police officer.
+
+Time passed. Again and again the fiddle ceased its ear-maddening screams
+as refreshment was partaken of by the dancers. Wilder and wilder grew
+the scene as the potent liquor took hold of its victims. They danced
+with more and more reckless abandon as each time they returned to step
+it to the fiddler's patient measure. Midnight approached and still no
+sign of Retief. Horrocks grew restless and impatient.
+
+Once the fiddle ceased, and the officer watching saw all eyes turn to
+the principal entrance to the barn. His heart leapt in anticipation as
+he gazed in the direction. Surely this sudden cessation could only
+herald the coming of Retief.
+
+He saw the door open as he craned forward to look. For the moment he
+could not see who entered; a crowd obscured his view. He heard a cheer
+and a clapping of hands, and he rejoiced. Then the crowd parted and he
+saw the slim figure of a girl pass down the center of the reeking den.
+She was clad in buckskin shirt and dungaree skirt. At the sight he
+muttered a curse. The newcomer was Jacky Allandale.
+
+He watched her closely as she moved amongst her uncouth surroundings.
+Her beautiful face and graceful figure was like to an oasis of stately
+flora in a desert of trailing, vicious brambles, and he marveled at the
+familiarity with which she came among these people. Moreover, he became
+beset with misgivings as he remembered the old stories which linked this
+girl's name with that of Retief. He struggled to fathom the meaning of
+what he saw, but the real significance of her coming escaped him.
+
+The Breeds once more returned to their dancing, and all went on as
+before. Horrocks followed Jacky's movements with his eyes. He saw her
+standing beside a toothless old woman, who wagged her cunning, aged head
+as she talked in answer to the girl's questions. Jacky seemed to be
+looking and inquiring for some one, and the officer wondered if the
+object of her solicitude was Retief. He would have been surprised had he
+known that she was inquiring and looking for himself. Presently she
+seated herself and appeared to be absorbed in the dance.
+
+The drink was flowing freely now, and a constant demand was being made
+upon Baptiste. Whilst the fiery spirit scorched down the hardened
+throats, strange, weird groans came from the fiddler's woeful
+instrument. The old man was tuning it down for the plaintive
+requirements of the Red River Jig.
+
+The dance of the evening was about to begin. Men and women primed
+themselves for the effort. Each was eager to outdo his or her neighbor
+in variety of steps and power of endurance. All were prepared to do or
+die. The mad jig was a national contest, and the one who lasted the
+longest would be held the champion dancer of the district--a coveted
+distinction amongst this strange people.
+
+At last the music began again, and now the familiar "Ragtime" beat
+fascinatingly upon the air. Those who lined the walls took up the
+measure, and, with foot and clapping hands, marked the time for the
+dancers. Those who competed leapt to the fray, and soon the reeking room
+became stifling with dust.
+
+The fiddler's time, slow at the commencement, soon grew faster, and the
+dancers shook their limbs in delighted anticipation. Faster and faster
+they shuffled and jigged, now opposite to partners, now round each
+other, now passing from one partner to another, now alone, for the
+admiration of the onlookers. Nor was there pause or hesitation. An
+instant's pause meant dropping out of that mad and old time "hoe-down,"
+and each coveted the distinction of champion. Faster and more wildly
+they footed it, and soon the speed caused some of the less agile to drop
+out. It was a giddy sight to watch, and the strange clapping of the
+spectators was not the least curious feature of the scene.
+
+The crowd of dancers grew thinner as the fiddler, with a marvelous
+display of latent energy, kept ever-increasing his speed.
+
+In spite of himself Horrocks became fascinated. There was something so
+barbarous--heathenish--in what he beheld. The minutes flew by, and the
+dance was rapidly nearing its height. More couples fell out, dead beat
+and gasping, but still there remained a number who would fight it out to
+the bitter end. The streaming faces and gaping lips of those yet
+remaining told of the dreadful strain. Another couple dropped out, the
+woman actually falling with exhaustion. She was dragged aside and left
+unnoticed in the wild excitement. Now were only three pairs left in the
+center of the floor.
+
+The police-officer found himself speculating as to which would be the
+winner of the contest.
+
+"That brown-faced wench, with the flaming red dress, 'll do 'em all," he
+said to himself. The woman he was watching had a young Breed of great
+agility for her _vis-a-vis_. "She or her partner 'll do it," he went on,
+almost audibly. "Good," he was becoming enthusiastic, "there's another
+couple done," as two more suddenly departed, and flung themselves on the
+ground exhausted. "Yes, they'll do it--crums, but there goes her
+partner! Keep it up, girl--keep it up. The others won't be long. Stay
+with--"
+
+He broke off in alarm as he felt his arm suddenly clutched from behind.
+Simultaneously he felt heavy breathing blowing upon his cheek. Quick as
+a flash his revolver was whipped out and he swung round.
+
+"Easy, sergeant," said the voice of one of his troopers. "For Gawd's
+sake don't shoot. Say, Retief's down at the settlement. A messenger's
+jest come up to say he's 'hustled' all our horses from Lablache's
+stable, and the old man himself's in trouble. Come over to that bluff
+yonder, the messenger's there. He's one of Lablache's clerks."
+
+The police-officer was dumbfounded, and permitted himself to be
+conducted to the bluff without a word. He was wondering if he were
+dreaming, so sudden and unexpected was the announcement of the disaster.
+
+When he halted at the bluff, the clerk was still discussing the affair
+with one of the troopers. As yet the other two were in their places of
+concealment, and were in ignorance of what had happened.
+
+"It's dead right," the clerk said, in answer to Horrocks's sharply-put
+inquiry. "I'd been in bed sometime when I was awakened by a terrible
+racket going on in the office. It's just under the room I sleep in.
+Well, I hopped out of bed and slipped on some clothes, and went
+downstairs, thinking the governor had been taken with a fit or
+something. When I got down the office was in darkness, and quiet as
+death. I went cautiously to work, for I was a bit scared. Striking a
+light I made my way in, expecting to find the governor laid out, but,
+instead, I found the furniture all chucked about and the room empty. It
+wasn't two shakes before I lit upon this sheet of paper. It was lying on
+the desk. The governor's writing is unmistakable. You can see for
+yourself; here it is--"
+
+Horrocks took the sheet, and, by the light of a match read the scrawl
+upon it. The writing had evidently been done in haste, but its meaning
+was clear.
+
+"Retief is here," it ran. "I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.
+LABLACHE."
+
+After reading, Horrocks turned to the clerk, who immediately went on
+with his story.
+
+"Well, I just bolted out to the stables intending to take a horse and go
+over to 'Poker' John's. But when I got there I found the doors open, an'
+every blessed horse gone. Yes, your horses as well--and the governor's
+buckboard too. I jest had a look round, saw that the team harness had
+gone with the rest, then I ran as hard as I could pelt to the Foss River
+Ranch. I found old John up, but he'd been drinking, so, after a bit of
+talk, I learned from him where you were and came right along. That's
+all, sergeant, and bad enough it is too. I'm afraid they'll string the
+governor up. He ain't too popular, you know."
+
+The clerk finished up his breathless narrative in a way that left no
+doubt in the mind of his hearers as to his sincerity. He was trembling
+with nervous excitement still. And even in the starlight the look upon
+his face spoke of real concern for his master.
+
+For some seconds the officer did not reply. He was thinking rapidly. To
+say that he was chagrined would hardly convey his feelings. He had been
+done--outwitted--and he knew it. Done--like the veriest tenderfoot. He,
+an officer of wide experience and of considerable reputation. And worst
+of all he remembered Lablache's warning. He, the money-lender, had been
+more far-seeing--had understood something of the trap which he,
+Horrocks, had plunged headlong into. The thought was as worm-wood to the
+prairie man, and helped to cloud his judgment as he now sought for the
+best course to adopt. He saw now with bitter, mental self-reviling, how
+the story that Gautier had told him--and for which he had paid--and
+which had been corroborated by the conversation he had heard in the
+camp, had been carefully prepared by the wily Retief; and how he, like a
+hungry, simple fish, had deliberately risen and devoured the bait. He
+was maddened by the thought, too, that the money-lender had been right
+and he wrong, and took but slight solace from the fact that the chief
+disaster had overtaken that great man.
+
+However, it was plain that something must be done at once to assist
+Lablache, and he cast about in his mind for the best means to secure the
+money-lender's release. In his dilemma a recollection came to him of the
+presence of Jacky Allandale in the barn, and a feeling nearly akin to
+revenge came to him. He felt that in some way this girl was connected
+with, and knew of, the doings of Retief.
+
+With a hurried order to remain where they were to his men he returned to
+his station at the window of the barn. He looked in, searching for the
+familiar figure of the girl. Dancing had ceased, and the howling Breeds
+were drinking heavily. Jacky was no longer to be seen, and, with bitter
+disappointment, he turned again to rejoin his companions. There was
+nothing left to do but to hasten to the settlement and procure fresh
+horses.
+
+He had hardly turned from the window when several shots rang out on the
+night air. They came from the direction in which he was moving.
+Instantly he comprehended that an attack was being made upon his
+troopers. He drew his pistol and dashed forward at a run. Three paces
+sufficed to terminate his race. Silence had followed the firing of the
+shots he had heard. Suddenly his quick ears detected the hiss of a
+lariat whistling through the air. He spread out his arms to ward it off.
+He felt something fall upon them. He tried to throw it off, and, the
+next instant the rope jerked tight round his throat, and he was hurled,
+choking, backwards upon the ground.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR
+
+
+Lablache was alone in his office. He was more alone than he had ever
+been in his life; or, at least, he felt more alone--which amounted to
+much the same thing. Possibly, had he been questioned on the subject, he
+would have pooh-poohed the idea, but, nevertheless, in his secret heart
+he felt that, in spite of his vast wealth, he was a lonely man. He knew
+that he had not a single friend in Foss River; and in Calford, another
+center of his great wealth, things were no better. His methods of
+business, whilst they brought him many familiar acquaintances--a large
+circle of people who were willing to trade, repelled all approach to
+friendship. Besides, his personality was against him. His flinty
+disposition and unscrupulous love of power were all detrimental to human
+affection.
+
+As a rule, metaphorically speaking, he snapped his fingers at these
+things. Moreover, he was glad that such was the case; he could the more
+freely indulge his passion for grab. Hated, he could work out his
+peculiar schemes without qualms of conscience; loved, it would have been
+otherwise. Yes, Lablache preferred this social ostracism.
+
+But the great money-lender had his moments of weakness--moments when he
+rebelled against his solitary lot. He knew that his isolated position
+had been brought about by himself--fostered by himself, and he knew he
+preferred that it should be so. But, nevertheless, at times he felt very
+lonely, and in these moments of weakness he wondered if he obtained full
+consolation in his great wealth for his marooned position. Generally the
+result of these reflections brought him satisfaction. How? is a
+question. Possibly he forced himself, by that headstrong power with
+which he bent others who came into contact with him to his will, to such
+a conclusion. Lablache was certainly a triumph of relentless purpose
+over flesh and feelings.
+
+Lablache was nearly fifty, and had lived alone since he was in his
+teens. Now he pined as all who live a solitary life must some day pine,
+for a companion to share his loneliness. He craved not for the society
+of his own sex. With the instinct in us all he wanted a mate to share
+with him his golden nest. But this mass of iron nerve and obesity was
+not as other men. He did not weakly crave, and then, with his wealth,
+set out to secure a wife who could raise him in the social scale, or add
+to the bags which he had watched grow in bulk from flattened folds of
+sacking, to the distended proportions of miniature balloons. No, he
+desired a girl, the only relation of a man whom he had helped to ruin--a
+girl who could bring him no social distinction, and who could not add
+one penny piece to his already enormous wealth. Moreover, strangely
+enough, he had conceived for her a passion which was absolutely unholy
+in its intensity. It is needless, then, to add, when, speaking of such a
+man, that, willing or not, he intended that Jacky Allandale should be
+his.
+
+Thoughts of this wild, quarter-breed girl filled his brain as he sat
+solitary in his little office on the night of the pusky. He sat in his
+favorite chair, in his favorite position. He was lounging back with his
+slippered feet resting on the burnished steel foot-rests of the stove.
+There was no fire in the stove, of course, but from force of habit he
+gazed thoughtfully at the mica sides which surrounded the firebox.
+Probably in this position he had thought out some of his most dastardly
+financial schemes and therefore most suitable it seemed now as he
+calculated his chances of capturing the wild prairie girl for his mate.
+
+He had given up all thoughts of ever obtaining her willing consent, and,
+although his vanity had been hurt by her rejection of his advances,
+still he was not the man to be easily thwarted. His fertile brain had
+evolved a means by which to achieve his end, and, to his scheme-loving
+nature, the process was anything but distasteful. He had always, from
+the first moment he had decided to make Jacky Allandale his wife, been
+prepared for such a contingency as her refusal, and had never missed an
+opportunity of ensnaring her uncle in his financial toils. He had
+understood the old man's weakness, and, with satanic cunning, had set
+himself to the task of wholesale robbery, with crushing results to his
+victim. This had given him the necessary power to further prosecute his
+suit. As yet he had not displayed his hand. He felt that the time was
+barely ripe. Before putting the screw on the Allandales it had been his
+object to rid the place, and his path, of his only stumbling block. In
+this he had not quite succeeded as we have seen. He quite understood
+that the Hon. Bunning-Ford must be removed from Foss River first. Whilst
+he was on hand Jacky would be difficult to coerce. Instinctively he knew
+that "Lord" Bill was her lover, and, with him at hand to advise her,
+Jacky would hold out to the last. However, he believed that in the end
+he must conquer. Bunning-Ford's resources were very limited he knew, and
+soon his hated rival must leave the settlement and seek pastures new.
+Lablache was but a clever scheming mortal. He did not credit others with
+brains of equal caliber, much less cleverer and more resourceful than
+his own. It had been better for him had his own success in life been
+less assured, for then he would have been more doubtful of his own
+ability to do as he wished, and he would have given his adversaries
+credit for a cleverness which he now considered as only his.
+
+After some time spent in surveying and considering his plans his
+thoughts reverted to other matters. This was the night of the half-breed
+pusky. His great face contorted into a sarcastic smile as he thought of
+Sergeant Horrocks. He remembered with vivid acuteness every incident of
+his interview with the officer two nights ago. He bore the man no
+malice now for the contradiction of himself, for the reason that he was
+sure his own beliefs on the subject of Retief would be amply realized.
+His lashless eyes quivered as his thoughts invoked an inward mirth. No
+one realized more fully than did this man the duplicity and cunning of
+the Breed. He anticipated a great triumph over Horrocks the next time he
+saw him.
+
+As the time passed on he became more himself. His loneliness did not
+strike him so keenly. He felt that after all there was great
+satisfaction to be drawn from a watcher's observance of men. Isolated as
+he was he was enabled to look on men and things more critically than he
+otherwise would be.
+
+He reached over to his tobacco jar, which stood upon his desk, and
+leisurely proceeded to fill his pipe. It was rarely he indulged himself
+in an idle evening, but to-night he somehow felt that idleness would be
+good. He was beginning to feel the weight of his years.
+
+He lit his heavy briar and proceeded to envelop himself in a cloud of
+smoke. He gasped out a great sigh of satisfaction, and his leathery
+eyelids half closed. Presently a gentle tap came at the glass door,
+which partitioned off the office from the store. Lablache called out a
+guttural "Come in," at the same time glancing at the loud ticking
+"alarm" on the desk. He knew who his visitor was.
+
+One of the clerks opened the door.
+
+"It is past ten, sir, shall I close up?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, close up. Whose evening off is it?"
+
+"Rodgers, sir. He is still out. He'll be in before midnight, sir."
+
+"Ah, down at the saloon, I expect," said Lablache, drily. "Well, bolt
+the front door. Just leave it on the spring latch. I shall be up until
+he comes in. What are you two boys going to do?"
+
+"Going to bed, sir."
+
+"All right; good-night."
+
+"Good-night, sir."
+
+The door closed quietly after the clerk, and Lablache heard his two
+assistants close up the store and then go upstairs to their rooms. The
+money-lender was served well. His employees in the store had been with
+him for years. They were worked very hard and their pay was not great,
+but their money was sure, and their employment was all the year round.
+So many billets upon the prairie depended upon the seasons--opulence one
+month and idleness the next. On the ranches it was often worse. There is
+but little labor needed in the winter. And those who have the good
+fortune to be employed all the year round generally experience a
+reduction in wages at the end of the fall round-up, and find themselves
+doing the "chores" when winter comes on.
+
+After the departure of the clerk Lablache re-settled himself and went on
+smoking placidly. The minutes ticked slowly away. An occasional groan
+from the long-suffering basket chair, and the wreathing clouds of smoke
+were the only appreciable indication of life in that little room.
+By-and-by the great man reached a memorandum tablet from his desk and
+dotted down a few hurried figures. Then he breathed a great sigh, and
+his face wore a look of satisfaction. There could be no doubt as to the
+tenor of his thoughts. Money, money. It was as life to him.
+
+The distant rattle of the spring lock of the store front door being
+snapped-to disturbed the quiet of the office. Lablache heard the sound.
+Then followed the bolting of the door. The money-lender turned again to
+his figures. It was the return of Rodgers, he thought, which had
+disturbed him. He soon became buried in further calculations. While
+figuring he unconsciously listened for the sound of the clerk's
+footsteps on the stairs as he made his way up to his room. The sound did
+not come. The room was clouded with tobacco smoke, and still Lablache
+belched out fresh clouds to augment the reek of the atmosphere. Suddenly
+the glass door opened. The money-lender heard the handle move.
+
+"Eh, what is it, Rodgers?" he said, in a displeased tone. As he spoke
+he peered through the smoke.
+
+"What d'you want?" he exclaimed angrily. Then he rubbed his eyes and
+craned forward only to fall back again with a muttered curse. He had
+stared into the muzzle of a heavy six-shooter.
+
+He moved his hand as though to throw his memorandum pad on the desk, but
+instantly a stern voice ordered him to desist and the threatening
+revolver came closer.
+
+"Jest stay right thar, pard." The words were spoken in an exaggerated
+Western drawl. "My barker's mighty light in the trigger. I guess it
+don't take a hundred-weight to loose it. And I don't cotton to mucking
+up this floor with yer vitals."
+
+Lablache remained still. He saw before him the tall thin figure of a
+half-breed. He had black lank hair which hung loosely down almost on to
+his shoulders. His face was the color of mud, and he was possessed of a
+pair of keen gray eyes and a thin-hooked nose. His face wore a lofty
+look of command, and was stamped by an expression of the unmost
+resolution. He spoke easily and showed not the smallest haste.
+
+"Guess we ain't met before, boss--not familiar-like, leastways. My
+name's Retief--Peter Retief, an' I take it yours is Lablache. Now I've
+jest come right along to do biz with you--how does that fit your
+bowels?"
+
+The compelling ring of metal faced the astonished money-lender. For the
+moment he remained speechless.
+
+"Wal?" drawled the other, with elaborate significance.
+
+Lablache struggled for words. His astonishment--dismay made the effort a
+difficult one.
+
+"You've got the drop on me you--you damned scoundrel," he at last burst
+out, his face for the moment purpling with rage. "I'm forced to listen
+to you now," he went on more gutturally, as the paroxysm having found
+vent began to pass, "but watch yourself that you make no bad reckoning,
+or you'll regret this business until the rope's round your neck. You'll
+get nothing out of me--but what you take. Now then, be sharp. What are
+you going to do?"
+
+The half-breed grinned.
+
+"You're mighty raw oh the hide jest now, I guess. But see hyar, my
+reckonin's are nigh as slick as yours. An' jest slant yer tongue some.
+'Damned scoundrel' sliden' from yer flannel face is like a coyote
+roundin' on a timber wolf, an' a coyote ain't as low down as a skunk. I
+opine I want a deal from you," Retief went on, with a hollow laugh, "and
+wot I want I mostly git, in these parts."
+
+Lablache was no coward. And even now he had not the smallest fear for
+his life. But the thought of being bluffed by the very man he was
+willing to pay so much for the capture of riled him almost beyond
+endurance. The Breed noted the effect of his words and pushed his pistol
+almost to within arm's reach of the money-lender's face.
+
+The half-breed's face suddenly became stem.
+
+"That's a dandy ranch of yours down south. Me an' my pards 'ave taken a
+notion to it. Say, you're comin' right along with us. Savee? Guess we'll
+show you the slickest round up this side o' the border. Now jest sit
+right thar while I let my mates in."
+
+Retief took no chances. Lablache, under pistol compulsion, was forced to
+remain motionless in his chair. The swarthy Breed backed cautiously to
+the door until his hand rested upon the spring catch. This, with deft
+fingers, he turned and then forced back, and the next moment he was
+joined by two companions as dark as himself and likewise dressed in the
+picturesque garb of the prairie "hustler." The money-lender, in spite of
+his predicament, was keenly alert, and lost no detail of the new-comers'
+appearance. He took a careful mental photograph of each of the men,
+trusting that he might find the same useful in the future. He wondered
+what the next move would be. He eyed the Breed's pistol furtively, and
+thought of his own weapon lying on his desk at the corner farthest from
+him. He knew there was no possible chance of reaching it. The slightest
+unbidden move on his part would mean instant death. He understood, only
+too well, how lightly human, life was held by these people. Implicit
+obedience alone could save him. In those few thrilling moments he had
+still time to realize the clever way in which both he and Horrocks had
+been duped. He had never for a moment believed in Gautier's story, but
+had still less dreamed of such a daring outrage as was now being
+perpetrated. He had not long to wait for developments. Directly the two
+men were inside, and the door was again closed, Retief pointed to the
+money-lender.
+
+"Hustle, boys--the rope. Lash his feet."
+
+One of the men produced an old lariat In a trice the great man's feet
+were fast.
+
+"His hands?" said one of the men.
+
+"Guess not. He's goin' to write, some."
+
+Lablache instantly thought of his cheque-book. But Retief had no fancy
+for what he considered was useless paper.
+
+The hustler stepped over to the desk. His keen eyes spotted the
+money-lender's pistol lying upon the far corner of it. He had also noted
+his prisoner casting furtive glances in the direction of it. To prevent
+any mischance he picked the gleaming weapon up and slipped it into his
+hip pocket. After that he drew a sheet of foolscap from the stationery
+case and laid it on the blotting pad. Then he turned to his comrades.
+
+"Jest help old money-bags over," he said quietly. He was thoroughly
+alert, and as calmly indifferent to the danger of discovery as if he
+were engaged on the most righteous work.
+
+When Lablache had been hoisted and pushed into position at the desk the
+raider took up a pen and held it out towards him.
+
+"Write," he said laconically.
+
+Lablache hesitated. He looked from the pen to the man's leveled pistol.
+Then he reluctantly took the pen. The half-breed promptly dictated, and
+the other wrote. The compulsion was exasperating, and the great man
+scrawled with all the pettishness of a child.
+
+The message read--
+
+"Retief is here. I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed."
+
+"Now sign," said the Breed, when the message was written.
+
+Lablache signed and flung down the pen.
+
+"What's that for?" he demanded huskily.
+
+"For?" His captor shrugged. "I guess them gophers of police are snugly
+trussed by now. Mebbe, though, one o' them might 'a' got clear away.
+When they find you're gone, they'll light on that paper. I jest want 'em
+to come right along after us. Savee? It'll 'most surprise 'em when they
+come along." Then he turned to his men. "Now, boys, lash his hands, and
+cut his feet adrift. Then, into the buckboard with him. Guess his
+carcase is too bulky for any 'plug' to carry. Get a hustle on, lads.
+We've hung around here long enough."
+
+The men stepped forward to obey their chief, but, at that moment,
+Lablache gave another display of that wonderful agility of his of which,
+at times, he was capable. His rage got the better of him, and even under
+the muzzle of his captor's pistol he was determined to resist. We have
+said that the money-lender was no coward; at that moment he was
+desperate.
+
+The nearest Breed received a terrific buffet in the neck, then, in spite
+of his bound feet, Lablache seized his heavy swivel chair, and, raising
+it with all his strength he hurled it at the other. Still Relief's
+pistol was silent. The money-lender noticed the fact, and he became even
+more assured. He turned heavily and aimed a blow at the "hustler." But,
+even as he struck, he felt the weight of Retief's hand, and struggling
+to steady himself--his bound feet impeding him--he overbalanced and fell
+heavily to the ground. In an instant the Breeds were upon him. His own
+handkerchief was used to gag him, and his hands were secured. Then,
+without a moment's delay, he was hoisted from the floor--his great
+weight bearing his captors down--and carried bodily out of the office
+and thrown into his own buckboard, which was waiting at the door. Retief
+sprang into the driving seat whilst one of the Breeds held the prisoner
+down, some other dark figures leapt into the saddles of several waiting
+horses, and the party dashed off at a breakneck speed.
+
+The gleaming stars gave out more than sufficient light for the desperate
+teamster. He swung the well-fed, high-mettled horses of the money-lender
+round, and headed right through the heart of the settlement. The
+audacity of this man was superlative. He lashed the animals into a
+gallop which made the saddle horses extend themselves to keep up. On, on
+into the night they raced, and almost in a flash the settlement was
+passed. The sleepy inhabitants of Foss River heard the mad racing of the
+horses but paid no heed. The daring of the raider was his safeguard.
+
+Lablache knew their destination. They were traveling southward, and he
+felt that their object was his own ranch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A NIGHT OF TERROR
+
+
+That midnight drive was one long nightmare to the unfortunate captive.
+He had been thrown, sprawling, into the iron-railed "carryall" platform
+at the back of the buckboard, and lay on the nut-studded slats, where he
+was jolted and bumped about like the proverbial pea on a drum.
+
+When the raider changed his direction, and turned off the trail on to
+the open prairie, the horrors of the prisoner's position were
+intensified a hundredfold. Alone, there was insufficient room for the
+suffering man in the limited space of the "carryall," but beside him
+sat, or rather crouched, a burly Breed, ready at a moment's notice to
+quash any attempt at escape on the part of the wretched money-lender.
+
+Thus he was borne along, mile after mile, southward towards his own
+ranch. Sometimes during that terrible ride Lablache found time to wonder
+what was the object of these people in thus kidnapping him. Surely if
+they only meant to carry off his cattle, such a task could have been
+done without bringing him along with them. It seemed to him that there
+could be only one interpretation put upon the matter, and, in spite of
+his present agonies, the great man shuddered as he thought.
+
+Courageous as he was, he endured a period of mental agony which took all
+the heart out of him. He understood the methods of the prairie so well
+that he feared the very worst. A tree--a lariat--and he saw, in fancy, a
+crowd of carrion swarming round his swinging body. He could conceive no
+other object, and his nerves became racked almost to breaking pitch.
+
+The real truth of the situation was beyond his wildest dreams. The
+significance of the fact that this second attack was made against him
+was lost upon the wretched man. He only seemed to realize with natural
+dread that Retief--the terror of the countryside--was in this, therefore
+the outcome must surely be the very worst.
+
+At length the horses drew up at Lablache's lonely ranch. His nearest
+neighbor was not within ten miles of him. With that love of power and
+self aggrandisement which always characterized him, the money-lender had
+purchased from the Government a vast tract of country, and retained
+every acre of it for his own stock. It might have stood him in good
+stead now had he let portions of his grazing, and so settled up the
+district. As it was, his ranch was characteristic of himself--isolated;
+and he knew that Retief could here work his will with little chance of
+interference.
+
+As Lablache was hoisted from the buckboard and set upon his feet, and
+the gag was removed from his mouth, the first thing he noticed was the
+absolute quiescence of the place. He wondered if his foreman and the
+hands were yet sleeping.
+
+He was not long left in doubt. Retief gave a few rapid orders to his
+men, and as he did so Lablache observed, for the first time, that the
+Breeds numbered at least half-a-dozen. He felt sure that not more than
+four besides their chief had traveled with them, and yet now the number
+had increased.
+
+The obvious conclusion was that the others were already here at the time
+of the arrival of the buckboard, doubtless with the purpose of carrying
+out Retief's plans.
+
+The Breeds moved off in various directions, and their chief and the
+money-lender were left alone. As soon as the others were out of earshot
+the raider approached his captive. His face seemed to have undergone
+some subtle change. The lofty air of command had been replaced by a look
+of bitter hatred and terrible cruelty.
+
+"Now, Lablache," he said coldly, "I guess you're goin' to see some fun.
+I ain't mostly hard on people. I like to do the thing han'some. Say
+I'll jest roll this bar'l 'long so as you ken set. An' see hyar, ef
+you're mighty quiet I'll loose them hands o' yours."
+
+Lablache deigned no reply, but the other was as good as his word.
+
+"Sulky, some, I guess," the half-breed went on. "Wal, I'm not goin' back
+on my word," he added as he rolled the barrel up to his prisoner and
+scotched it securely. "Thar, set."
+
+The money-lender didn't move.
+
+"Set!" This time the word conveyed a command and the other sat down on
+the barrel.
+
+"Guess I can't stand cantankerous cusses. Now, let's have a look at yer
+bracelets."
+
+He sat beside his captive and proceeded to loosen the rope which bound
+his wrists. Then he quietly drew his pistol and rested it on his knee.
+Lablache enjoyed his freedom, but wondered what was coming next.
+
+There was a moment of silence while the two men gazed at the corrals and
+buildings set out before them. Away to the right, on a rising ground,
+stood a magnificent house built of red pine lumber. Lablache had built
+this as a dwelling for himself. For the prairie it was palatial, and
+there was nothing in the country to equal it. This building alone had
+cost sixty thousand dollars. On a lower level there were the great
+barns. Four or five of these stood linked up by smaller buildings and
+quarters for the ranch hands. Then there was a stretch of low buildings
+which were the boxes built for the great man's thoroughbred stud horses.
+He was possessed of six such animals, and their aggregate cost ran into
+thousands of pounds, each one having been imported from England.
+
+Then there were the corrals with their great ten-foot walls, all built
+of the finest pine logs cut from the mountain forests. These corrals
+covered acres of ground and were capable of sheltering five thousand
+head of cattle without their capacity being taxed. It was an ideal place
+and represented a considerable fortune. Lablache noticed that the
+corrals were entirely empty. He longed to ask his captor for
+explanation, but would not give that swarthy individual the satisfaction
+of imparting unpleasant information.
+
+However, Retief did not intend to let the money-lender off lightly. The
+cruel expression of his face deepened as he followed the direction of
+Lablache's gaze.
+
+"Fine place, this," he said, with a comprehensive nod. "Cost a pile o'
+dollars, I take it."
+
+No answer.
+
+"You ain't got much stock. Guess the boys 'ave helped themselves
+liberal."
+
+Lablache turned his face towards his companion. He was fast being drawn.
+
+"Heard 'em gassin' about twenty thousand head some days back. Guess
+they've borrowed 'em," he went on indifferently.
+
+"You villain!" the exasperated prisoner hissed at last.
+
+If ever a look conveyed a lust for murder Lablache's lashless eyes
+expressed it.
+
+"Eh? What? Guess you ain't well." The icy tones mocked at the distraught
+captive.
+
+The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool.
+
+"My cattle are on the range. You could never have driven off twenty
+thousand head. It would have been impossible without my hearing of it.
+It is more than one night's work."
+
+"That's so," replied the half-breed, smiling sardonically. "Say, your
+hands and foreman are shut up in their shack. They've bin taking things
+easy fur a day or two. Jest to give my boys a free hand. Guess we've
+been at work here these three days."
+
+The money-lender groaned inwardly. He understood the Breed's meaning
+only too well. At last his bottled-up rage broke out again.
+
+"Are you man or devil that you spirit away great herds like this.
+Across the keg, I know, but how--how? Twenty thousand! My God, you'll
+swing for this night's work," he went on impotently. "The whole
+countryside will be after you. I am not the man to sit down quietly
+under such handling. If I spend every cent I'm possessed of, you shall
+be hounded down until you dare not show your face on this side of the
+border."
+
+"Easy, boss," the Breed retorted imperturbably. "Ef you want to see that
+precious store o' yours again a civil tongue 'll help you best. I'm
+mostly a patient man--easy goin'-like. Now jest keep calm an' I'll let
+you see the fun. Now that's a neat shack o' yours," he went on, pointing
+to the money-lender's mansion. "Wonder ef I could put a dose o' lead
+into one o' the windows from here."
+
+Lablache began to think he was dealing with a madman. He remained
+silent, and the Breed leveled his pistol in the direction of the house
+and fired. A moment's silence followed the sharp report. Then Retief
+turned to his captive.
+
+"Guess I didn't hear any glass smash. Likely I missed it," and he
+chuckled fiendishly. Lablache sat gazing moodily at the building. Then
+the half-breed's voice roused him. "Hello, wot's that?" He was pointing
+at the house. "Why, some galoot's lightin' a bonfire! Say, that's
+dangerous Lablache. They might fire your place."
+
+But the other did not answer. His eyes were staring wide with horror. As
+if in answer to the pistol-shot a fire had been lit against the side of
+the house. It was no ordinary fire, either, but a great pile of hay. The
+flames shot up with terrible swiftness, licking up the side of the red
+pine house with lightning rapidity. Lablache understood. The house was
+to be demolished, and Retief had given the signal. He leapt up from his
+seat, forgetful of his bound feet, and made as though to seize the Breed
+by the throat. He got no further, however, for Retief gripped him by the
+shoulder, and, notwithstanding his great bulk, hurled him back on to the
+barrel, at the same time pressing the muzzle of his pistol into his
+face.
+
+"Set down, you scum," he thundered. "Another move like that an' I'll
+let the atmosphere into yer." Then with a Sudden return to his grim
+pastime, as the other remained quiet, "Say, red pine makes powerful fine
+kindlin'. I reckon they'll see that light at the settlement. You don't
+seem pleased, man. Ain't it a beaut. Look, they've started it the other
+side. Now the smoke stack's caught. Burn, burn, you beauty. Look,
+Lablache, a sixty thousand dollar fire, an' all yours. Ain't you proud
+to think that it's all yours?"
+
+Lablache was speechless with horror. Words failed to express his
+feelings. The Breed watched him as a tiger might contemplate its
+helpless prey. He understood something of the agony the great man was
+suffering. He wanted him to suffer--he meant him to suffer. But he had
+only just begun the torture he had so carefully prepared for his victim.
+
+Presently the roof of the building crashed in, and, for the moment, the
+blaze leapt high. Then, soon, it began to die down. Retief seemed to
+tire of watching the dying blaze. He turned again to his prisoner.
+
+"Not 'nough, eh? Not 'nough. We can't stop here all night. Let's have
+the rest. The sight'll warm your heart." And he laughed at his own grim
+pleasantry. "The boys have cleared out your stud 'plugs.' And, I guess,
+yer barns are chocked full of yer wheel gearing and implements. Say, I
+guess we'll have 'em next."
+
+He turned from his silent captive without waiting for reply, and rapidly
+discharged the remaining five barrels of his pistol. For answer another
+five bonfires were lighted round the barns and corals. Almost instantly
+the whole place became a gorgeous blaze of light. The entire ranch, with
+the exception of one little shack was now burning as only pine wood can
+burn. It was a terrible, never-to-be-forgotten sight, and Lablache
+groaned audibly as he saw the pride of his wealth rapidly gutted. If
+ever a man suffered the money-lender suffered that night Retief showed
+a great understanding of his prisoner--far too great an understanding
+for a man who was supposed to be a stranger to Lablache--in the way he
+set about to torture his victim. No bodily pain could have equaled the
+mental agony to which the usurer was submitted. The sight of the
+demolishing of his beautiful ranch--probably the most beautiful in the
+country--was a cruelly exquisite torture to the money-loving man. That
+dread conflagration represented the loss to him of a fortune, for, with
+grasping pusillanimity, Lablache had refused to insure his property. Had
+Retief known this he could not have served his own purpose better.
+Possibly he did know, and possibly that was the inducement which
+prompted his action. Truly was the money-lender paying dearly for past
+misdeeds. With the theft of his cattle and the burning of his ranch his
+loss was terrible, and, in his moment of anguish, he dared not attempt
+to calculate the extent of the catastrophe.
+
+When the fire was at its height Retief again addressed his taunting
+language to the man beside him, and Lablache writhed under the lash of
+that scathing tongue.
+
+"I've heerd tell you wer' mighty proud of this place of yours. Spent
+piles o' bills on it. Nothin' like circulatin' cash, I guess. Say now,
+how long did it take you to fix them shacks up?"
+
+No answer. Lablache was beyond mere words.
+
+"A sight longer than it takes a bit of kindlin' to fetch 'em down, I
+take it," he went on placidly. "When d'ye think you'll start
+re-building? I wonder," thoughtfully, "why they don't fire that shed
+yonder," pointing to the only building left untouched. "Ah, I was
+forgettin', that's whar your hands are enjoyin' themselves. It's
+thoughtful o' the boys. I guess they're good lads. They don't cotton to
+killin' prairie hands. But they ain't so particular over useless lumps
+o' flesh, I guess," with a glance at the stricken man beside him.
+
+Lablache was gasping heavily. The mental strain was almost more than he
+could bear, and his crushed and hopeless attitude brought a satanic
+smile on the cruel face beside him.
+
+"You don't seem to fancy things much," Retief went on. "Guess you ain't
+enjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like this
+fur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?" as the barrel on which they were
+seated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. "I hadn't a
+notion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Them
+barns," he added, pointing, towards the fire, "was built mighty solid.
+They're on'y jest cavin'."
+
+Lablache remained silent. Words, he felt, would be useless. In fact it
+is doubtful if he would have been equal to expression. His spirit was
+crushed and he feared the man beside him as he had never feared any
+human being before. Such was the nervous strain put upon him that the
+sense of his loss was rapidly absorbed in a dread for his own personal
+safety. The conflagration had lost its fascination for him, and at every
+move--every word--of his captor he dreaded the coming of his own end. It
+was a physical and mental collapse, and bordered closely on frenzied
+terror. It was no mental effort of his own that kept him from hurling
+himself upon the other and biting and tearing in a vain effort to rend
+the life out of him. The thought--the fever, desire, craving--was there,
+but the will, the personality, of the Breed held him spellbound, an
+inert mass of flesh incapable of physical effort--incapable almost of
+thought, but a prey to an overwhelming terror.
+
+The watching half-breed at length rose from his seat and shrugged his
+thin, stooping shoulders. He had had enough of his pastime, and time was
+getting on. He had other work to do before daylight. He put his hand to
+his mouth and imitated the cry of the coyote. An instant later answering
+cries came from various directions, and presently the Breeds gathered
+round their chief.
+
+"Say, bring up the 'plugs,' lads. The old boy's had his bellyfull. I
+guess we'll git on." Then he turned upon the broken money-lender and
+spoke while he re-charged the chambers of his pistol.
+
+"See hyar, Lablache, this night's work is on'y a beginning. So long as
+you live in Foss River Settlement so long will I hunt you out an' hustle
+yer stock. You talked of houndin' me, but I guess the shoe's on the
+other foot. I ain't finished by a sight, an' you'll hear from me agin'.
+I don't fancy yer life," he went on with a grin. "Et's too easy, I
+guess. Et's yer bills I'm after. Ye've got plenty an' to spare. But
+bills is all-fired awk'ud to handle when they pass thro' your dirty
+hands. So I'll wait till you've turned 'em into stock. Savee? I'm jest
+goin' right on now. Thar's a bunch o' yer steers waitin' to be taken
+off. Happen I'm goin' to see to 'em right away. One o' these lads'll
+jest set some bracelets on yer hands, and leave yer tucked up and
+comfortable so you can't do any harm, and you can set right thar an'
+wait till some 'un comes along an' looses yer. So long, pard, an'
+remember, Foss River's the hottest place outside o' hell fur you, jest
+now."
+
+Some of the half-breeds had brought up the horses whilst Retief was
+talking, and, as he finished speaking, the hustler vaulted on to the
+back of the great chestnut, Golden Eagle, and prepared to ride away.
+Whilst the others were getting into their saddles he took one look at
+the wretched captive whose hands had been again secured. There was a
+swift exchange of glances--malevolent and murderous on the part of the
+money-lender, and derisive on the part of the half-breed--then Retief
+swung his charger round, and, at the head of his men, galloped away out
+into the starry night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG
+
+
+The rope which brought Horrocks to the ground came near to strangling
+him. He struggled wildly as he fell, and, as he struggled, the grip of
+the rope tightened. He felt that the blood was ready to burst from his
+temples and eyes. Then everything seemed to swim about him and he
+believed consciousness was leaving him. Everything was done in a moment
+and yet he seemed to be passing through an eternity of time.
+
+The lariat is a handy weapon, but to truly appreciate its merits one
+must be a prairie man. The Breeds are prairie men. They understand fully
+the uses to which a "rope" may be put. For criminal purposes they
+appreciate its silent merits, and the dexterity with which they can use
+it makes its value equal to, and even surpass, the noisier and more
+tell-tale pistol.
+
+The next thing that the policeman knew was that he was stretched on his
+back upon the ground, disarmed, and with a great bandanna secured about
+his eyes and mouth, and his hands tied behind his back. Then a gruff
+voice bade him rise, and, as he silently obeyed, he was glad to feel
+that the gripping lariat was removed from his throat. Truly had the
+officer's pride gone before a fall. And his feelings were now of the
+deepest chagrin. He stood turning his head from side to side, blindly
+seeking to penetrate the bandage about his eyes. He knew where he was,
+of course, but he would have given half his year's salary for a sight of
+his assailants.
+
+He was not given long for his futile efforts. The same rough voice
+which had bade him rise now ordered him to walk, and he found himself
+forced forward by the aid of a heavy hand which gripped one of his arms.
+The feeling of a blindfold walk is not a happy one, and the officer
+experienced a strange sensation of falling as he was urged he knew not
+whither. After a few steps he was again halted, and then he felt himself
+seized from behind and lifted bodily into a conveyance.
+
+He quickly realized that he was in a buckboard. The slats which formed
+the body of it, as his feet lit upon them, told him this. Then two men
+jumped in after him and he found himself seated between them. And so he
+was driven off.
+
+In justice to Horrocks it must be said that he experienced no fear.
+True, his chagrin was very great. He saw only too plainly what want of
+discretion he had displayed in trusting to the Breed's story, but he
+felt that his previous association with the rascal warranted his
+credulity, and the outcome must be regarded as the fortune of war. He
+only wondered what strange experience this blindfold journey was to
+forerun. There was not the least doubt in his mind as to whose was the
+devising of this well-laid and well-carried-out plot. Retief, he knew,
+must be answerable for the plan, and the method displayed in its
+execution plainly showed him that every detail had been carefully
+thought out, and administered by only too willing hands. That there was
+more than ordinary purpose in this blindfold journey he felt assured,
+and he racked his brains to discover the desperado's object. He even
+found time to speculate as to how it had fared with his men, only here
+he was even more at a loss than in the case of his own ultimate fate.
+
+In less than half an hour from the time of his capture the buckboard
+drew up beside some bush. Horrocks knew it was a bluff. He could hear
+the rustle of the leaves as they fluttered in the gentle night air. Then
+he was unceremoniously hustled to the ground, and, equally
+unceremoniously, urged forward until his feet trod upon the stubbly,
+breaking undergrowth. Next he was brought to a stand and swung round,
+face about, his bonds were removed, and four powerful hands gripped his
+arms. By these he was drawn backwards until he bumped against a
+tree-trunk. His hands were then again made fast, but this time his arms
+embraced the tree behind him. In this manner he was securely trussed.
+
+Now from behind--his captors were well behind him--a hand reached over,
+and, by a swift movement, removed the bandage from before his eyes.
+Then, before he had time to turn his head, he heard a scrambling through
+the bush, and, a moment later, the sound of the creaking buckboard
+rapidly receding. He was left alone; and, after one swift, comprehensive
+survey, to his surprise, he found himself facing the wire-spreading
+muskeg, at the very spot where he had given up further pursuit of the
+cattle whose "spur" he had traced down to the brink of the viscid mire.
+
+His astonishment rendered him oblivious to all else. He merely gazed out
+across that deceptive flat and wondered. Why--why had this thing been
+done, and what strange freak had induced the "hustler" to conceive such
+a form of imprisonment for his captive? Horrocks struggled with his
+confusion, but he failed to fathom the mystery, and never was a man's
+confusion worse confounded than was his.
+
+Presently he bethought him of his bonds, and he cautiously tried them.
+They were quite unyielding, and, at each turn of his arms, they caused
+him considerable pain. The Breeds had done their work well, and he
+realized that he must wait the raider's pleasure. He was certain of one
+thing, however, which brought him a slight amount of comfort. He had
+been brought here for a definite purpose. Moreover, he did not believe
+that he was to be left here alone for long. So, with resignation induced
+by necessity, he possessed himself of what patience he best could
+summon.
+
+How long that solitary vigil lasted Horrocks had no idea. Time, in that
+predicament, was to him of little account. He merely wondered and
+waited. He considered himself more than fortunate that his captors had
+seen fit to remove the bandage from his eyes. In spite of his painful
+captivity he felt less helpless from the fact that he could see what
+might be about him.
+
+From a general survey his attention soon became riveted upon the muskeg
+spread out before him, and, before long, his thoughts turned to the
+secret path which he knew, at some point near by, bridged the silent
+horror. All about him was lit by the starry splendor of the sky. The
+scent of the redolent grass of the great keg hung heavily upon the air
+and smelt sweet in his nostrils. He could see the ghostly outline of the
+distant peaks of the mountains, he could hear the haunting cries of
+nightfowl and coyote; but these things failed to interest him.
+Familiarity with the prairie made them, to him, commonplace. The
+path--the secret of the great keg. That was the absorbing thought which
+occupied his waiting moments. He felt that its discovery would more than
+compensate for any blunders he had made. He strained his keen eyes as he
+gazed at the tall waving grass of the mire, as though to tear from the
+bosom of the awful swamp the secret it so jealously guarded. He slowly
+surveyed its dark surface, almost inch by inch, in the hopes of
+discovering the smallest indication or difference which might lead to
+the desired end.
+
+There was nothing in what he saw to guide him, nothing which offered the
+least suggestion of a path. In the darkness the tall waving grass took a
+nondescript hue which reached unbroken for miles around. Occasionally
+the greensward seemed to ripple in the breeze, like water swayed by a
+soft summer zephyr, but beyond this the outlook was uniform--darkly
+mysterious--inscrutable.
+
+His arms cramped under the pressure of the restraining bonds and he
+moved uneasily. Now and again the rustling of the leaves overhead caused
+him to listen keenly. Gradually his fancy became slightly distorted,
+and, as time passed, the sounds which had struck so familiarly upon his
+ears, and which had hitherto passed unheeded, began to get upon his
+nerves.
+
+By-and-by he found himself listening eagerly for the monotonous
+repetition of the prairie scavenger's dismal howl, and as the cries
+recurred they seemed to grow in power and become more plaintively
+horrible. Now, too, the sighing of the breeze drew more keen attention
+from the imprisoned man, and fancy magnified it into the sound of many
+approaching feet. These matters were the effect of solitude. At such
+times nerves play curious pranks.
+
+In spite of his position, in spite of his anxiety of mind, the
+police-officer began to grow drowsy. The long night's vigil was telling,
+and nature rebelled, as she always will rebel when sleep is refused and
+bodily rest is unobtainable. A man may pace his bedroom for hours with
+the unmitigated pain of toothache. Even while the pain is almost
+unendurable his eyes will close and he will continue his peregrinations
+with tottering gait, awake, but with most of his faculties drowsily
+faltering. Horrocks found his head drooping forward, and, even against
+his will, his eyes would close. Time and again he pulled himself
+together, only the next instant to catch himself dozing off again.
+
+Suddenly, however, he was electrified into life. He was awake now, and
+all drowsiness had vanished. A sound--distant, rumbling, but
+distinct--had fallen upon his, for the moment, dulled ears. For awhile
+it likened to the far-off growl of thunder, blending with a steady rush
+of wind. But it was not passing. The sound remained and grew steadily
+louder. A minute passed--then another and then another. Horrocks stared
+in the direction, listening with almost painful intensity. As the
+rumbling grew, and the sound became more distinct, a light of
+intelligence crept into the prisoner's face. He heard and recognized.
+
+"Cattle!" he muttered, and in that pronouncement was an inflection of
+joy. "Cattle--and moving at a great pace."
+
+He was alert now, as alert as he had ever been in his life. Was he at
+last going to discover the coveted secret? Cattle traveling fast at this
+time of night, and in the vicinity of the great keg. What could it mean?
+To his mind there could only be one construction which he could
+reasonably put upon the circumstance. The cattle were being "hustled,"
+and the hustler must be the half-breed Retief.
+
+Then, like a douche of cold water, followed the thought that he had been
+purposely made a prisoner at the edge of the muskeg. Surely he was not
+to be allowed to see the cattle pass over the mire and then be permitted
+to go free. Even Retief in his wildest moments of bravado could not
+meditate so reckless a proceeding. No, there was some subtle purpose
+underlying this new development--possibly the outcome was to be far more
+grim than he had supposed. He waited horrified, at his own thoughts, but
+fascinated in spite of himself.
+
+The sound grew rapidly and Horrocks's face remained turned in the
+direction from which it proceeded. He fancied, even in the uncertain
+light, that he could see the distant crowd of beasts silhouetted against
+the sky-line. His post of imprisonment was upon the outskirts of the
+bush, and he had a perfect and uninterrupted view of the prairie along
+the brink of the keg, both to the north and south.
+
+It was his fancy, however, which designed the silhouette, and he soon
+became aware that the herd was nearer than he had supposed. The noise
+had become a continuous roar as the driven beasts came on, and he saw
+them loom towards him a black patch on the dark background of the
+dimly-lit prairie. The bunch was large, but his straining eyes as yet
+could make no estimate of its numbers. He could see several herders, but
+these, too, were as yet beyond recognition.
+
+Yet another surprise was in store for the waiting man. So fixed had his
+attention been upon the on-coming cattle that he had not once removed
+his eyes from the direction of their approach. Now, however, a prolonged
+bellow to the right of him caused him to turn abruptly. To his utter
+astonishment he saw, not fifty yards from him, a solitary horseman
+leading a couple of steers by ropes affixed to their horns. He wondered
+how long this strange apparition had been there. The horse was calmly
+nibbling at the grass, and the man was quietly resting himself with
+elbows propped upon the horn of his saddle. He, too, appeared to be
+gazing in the direction of the on-coming cattle. Horrocks tried hard to
+distinguish the man's appearance, but the light was too uncertain to
+give him more than the vaguest idea of his personality.
+
+The horse seemed to be black or very dark brown. And the general outline
+of the rider was that of a short slight man, with rather long hair which
+flowed from beneath the brim of his Stetson hat. The most curious
+distinguishable feature was his slightness. The horse was big and the
+man, was so small that, as he sat astride of his charger, he looked to
+be little more than a boy of fifteen or sixteen.
+
+Horrocks's survey was cut short, however, for now the herd of cattle was
+tearing down upon him at a desperate racing pace. He saw the solitary
+rider gather up his lines and move his horse further away from the edge
+of the muskeg. Then the herd of cattle came along. They raced past the
+bluff where the officer was stationed, accompanied by four swarthy
+drivers, one of which was mounted upon a great chestnut horse whose
+magnificent stride and proportions fixed the captive's attention. He had
+heard of "Golden Eagle," and he had no doubt in his mind that this was
+he and the rider was the celebrated cattle-thief. The band and its
+drovers swept by, and Horrocks estimated that the cattle numbered many
+hundreds.
+
+After awhile he heard the sound of voices. Then the beasts were driven
+back again over their tracks, only at a more gentle pace. Several times
+the performance was gone through, and each time, as they passed him,
+Horrocks noticed that their pace was decreased, until by the sixth time
+they passed their gait had become a simple mouche, and they leisurely
+nipped up the grass as they went, with bovine unconcern. It was a
+masterly display of how cattle can be handled, and Horrocks forgot for a
+while his other troubles in his interest in the spectacle.
+
+After passing him for the sixth time the cattle came to a halt; and then
+the strangest part of this strange scene was enacted. The horseman with
+the led steers, whom, by this time, Horrocks had almost forgotten, came
+leisurely upon the field of action. No instructions were given. The
+whole thing was done in almost absolute silence. It seemed as if long
+practice had perfected the method of procedure.
+
+The horseman advanced to the brink of the muskeg, exactly opposite to
+the bluff where the captive was tied, and with him the two led steers.
+Horrocks held his breath--his excitement was intense. The swarthy
+drivers roused the tired cattle and headed them towards the captive
+steers. Horrocks saw the boyish rider urge his horse fearlessly on to
+the treacherous surface of the keg. The now docile and exhausted cattle
+followed leisurely. There was no undue bustle or haste. It was a
+veritable "follow my leader." Where it was good enough for the captive
+leaders to go it was good enough for the weary beasts to follow, and so,
+as the boy rider moved forward, the great herd followed in twos and
+threes. The four drivers remained until the end, and then, as the last
+steer set foot on the dreadful mire, they too joined in the silent
+procession.
+
+Horrocks exerted all his prairie instinct as he watched the course of
+that silent band. He was committing to memory, as far as he was capable,
+the direction of the path across the keg, for, when opportunity offered,
+he was determined to follow up his discovery and attempt the journey
+himself. He fancied in his own secret heart that Retief had at last
+overreached himself, and in thus giving away his secret he was paving
+the way to his own capture.
+
+It was not long before the cattle and their drivers passed out of sight,
+but Horrocks continued to watch, so that he should lose no chance detail
+of interest. At length, however, he found that his straining gaze was
+useless, and all further interest passed out of his lonely vigil.
+
+Now he busied himself with plans for his future movements, when he
+should once more be free. And in such thought the long night passed, and
+the time drew on towards dawn.
+
+The surprises of the night were not yet over, however, for just before
+the first streaks of daylight shot athwart the eastern sky he saw two
+horsemen returning across the muskeg. He quickly recognized them as
+being the raider himself and the boyish rider who had led the cattle
+across the mire. They came across at a good pace, and as they reached
+the bank the officer was disgusted to see the boy ride off in a
+direction away from the settlement, and the raider come straight towards
+the bluff. Horrocks was curious about the boy who seemed so conversant
+with the path across the mire, and was anxious to have obtained a
+clearer view of him.
+
+The raider drew his horse up within a few yards of the captive. Horrocks
+had a good view of the man's commanding, eagle face. In spite of himself
+he could not help but feel a strange admiration for this lawless Breed.
+
+There was something wonderfully fascinating and lofty in the hustler's
+direct, piercing gaze as, proudly disdainful, he looked down upon his
+discomfited prisoner.
+
+He seemed in no hurry to speak. A shadowy smile hovered about his face
+as he eyed the officer. Then he turned away and looked over to the
+eastern horizon. He turned back again and drawled out a greeting. It was
+not cordial but it was characteristic of him.
+
+"Wal?"
+
+Horrocks made no reply. The Breed laughed mockingly, and leant forward
+upon the horn of his saddle.
+
+"Guess you've satisfied your curiosity--some. Say, the boys didn't
+handle you too rough, I take it. I told 'em to go light."
+
+Horrocks was constrained to retort.
+
+"Not so rough as you'll be handled when you get the law about you."
+
+"Now I call that unfriendly. Guess them's gopher's words. But say, pard,
+the law ain't got me yet. Wot d'ye think of the road across the keg?
+Mighty fine trail that." He laughed as though enjoying a good joke.
+
+Horrocks felt that he must terminate this interview. The Breed had a
+most provoking way with him. His self-satisfaction annoyed his hearer.
+
+"How much longer do you intend to keep me here?" Horrocks exclaimed
+bitterly. "I suppose you mean murder; you'd better get on with it and
+stop gassing. Men of your kidney don't generally take so much time over
+that sort of business."
+
+Retief seemed quite unruffled.
+
+"Murder? Why, man, I didn't bring you here to murder you. Guess ef I'd a
+notion that way you'd 'a' been done neat long ago. No, I jest wanted to
+show you what you wanted to find out. Now I'm goin' to let you go, so
+you, an' that skunk Lablache'll be able to chin-wag over this night's
+doin's. That's wot I'm here fer right now."
+
+As he finished speaking the Breed circled Golden Eagle round behind the
+tree, and, bending low down from the saddle, he cut the rope which held
+the policeman's wrists. Horrocks, feeling himself freed, stepped quickly
+from the bush into the open, and faced about towards his liberator. As
+he did so he found himself looking up into the muzzle of Retief's
+revolver. He stood his ground unflinchingly.
+
+"Now, see hyar, pard," said Retief, quietly, "I've a mighty fine respect
+for you. You ain't the cuckoo that many o' yer mates is. You've got
+grit, anyway. But that ain't all you need. 'Savee's' a mighty fine
+thing--on occasions. Now you need 'Savee.' I'll jest give yer a piece of
+advice right hyar. You go straight off down to Lablache's ranch. You'll
+find him thar. An' pesky uncomfortable you'll find him. You ken set him
+free, also his ranch boys, an' when you've done that jest make tracks
+for Stormy Cloud an' don't draw rein till you git thar. Ef ever you see
+Retief on one trail, jest hit right off on to another. That's good sound
+sense right through fur you. Say, work on that, an' you ain't like to
+come to no harm. But I swear, right hyar, ef you an' me ever come to
+close quarters I'll perforate you--'less you git the drop on me. An' to
+do that'll keep you humpin'. So long, pard. It's jest gettin' daylight,
+ah' I don't calc'late to slouch around hyar when the sun's shinin'.
+Don't go fur to forget my advice. I don't charge nothin' fur it, but
+it's good, pard--real good, for all that. So long."
+
+He swung his horse round, and before Horrocks had time to collect
+himself, much less to speak, he was almost out of sight.
+
+Half dazed and still wondering at the strangeness of the desperate
+Breed's manner he mechanically began to walk slowly in the direction of
+the Foss River Settlement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE DAY AFTER
+
+
+Morning broke over a disturbed and restless community at Foss River. The
+chief residents who were not immediately concerned in the arrest of
+Retief--only deeply interested, and therefore skeptical--had gone to bed
+over-night eager for the morning light to bring them news. Their broken
+slumbers ceased as daylight broadened into sunrise, and, without waiting
+for their morning coffee, the majority set out to gather the earliest
+crumbs of news obtainable. There were others, of course, who were not in
+the know, or, at least, had only heard vague rumors. These were less
+interested, and therefore failed to rise so early.
+
+Amongst the earliest abroad was Doctor Abbot. Aunt Margaret's interest
+was not sufficient to drag her from her downy couch thus early, but,
+with truly womanly logic, she saw no reason why the doctor should not
+glean for her the information she required. Therefore the doctor rose
+and shivered under the lightness of his summer apparel in the brisk
+morning air.
+
+The market-place, upon which the doctor's house looked, was almost
+deserted when he passed out of his door. He glanced quickly around for
+some one whom he might recognize. He saw that the door of "Lord" Bill's
+shack was open, but it was too far off for him to see whether that lazy
+individual was yet up. A neche was leisurely cleaning up round
+Lablache's store, whilst the local butcher was already busy swabbing out
+the little shed which did duty for his shop. As yet there was no other
+sign of life abroad, and Doctor Abbot prepared to walk across to the
+butcher for a gossip, and thus wait for some one else to come along.
+
+He stepped briskly from his house, for he was "schrammed" with cold in
+his white drill clothing. As he approached the energetic butcher, he saw
+a man entering the market-place from the southern extremity of the
+settlement. He paused to look closely at the new-comer. In a moment he
+recognized Thompson, one of the clerks from Lablache's store. He
+conjectured at once that this man might be able to supply him with the
+information he desired, and so changed his direction and went across to
+meet him.
+
+"Mornin', Thompson," he said, peering keenly into the pale, haggard face
+of the money-lender's employee. "What's up with you? You look positively
+ill. Have you heard how the arrest went off last night?"
+
+There was a blunt directness about the doctor which generally drove
+straight to the point. The clerk wearily passed his hand across his
+forehead. He seemed half asleep, and, as the doctor had asserted,
+thoroughly ill.
+
+"Arrest, doctor? Precious little arrest there's been. I've been out on
+the prairie all night. What, haven't you heard about the governor? Good
+lor'! I don't know what's going to happen to us all. Do you think we're
+safe here?"
+
+"Safe here? What do you mean, man?" the doctor answered, noting the
+other's fearful glances round. "Why, what ails you? What about
+Lablache?"
+
+Others had now appeared upon the market-place and Doctor Abbot saw
+"Lord" Bill, dressed in a gray tweed suit, and looking as fresh as if he
+had just emerged from the proverbial bandbox, coming leisurely towards
+him.
+
+"What about Lablache, eh?" replied Thompson, echoing the doctor's
+question ruefully. "A pretty nice thing Horrocks and his fellows have
+let themselves, and us, in for."
+
+Bill had come up now and several others had joined the group. They stood
+by and listened while the clerk told his story. And what a story it was
+too. It was vividly sanguinary, and enough to strike terror into the
+hearts of his audience.
+
+He told with great gusto of how Lablache had been abducted. How the
+police horses and the money-lender's had been stolen from the stables at
+the store. He dwelt on the frightful horrors committed up at the Breed
+camp. How he had seen the police shot down before his very eyes, and he
+became expansive on the fact that, with his own hands, Retief had
+carried off Horrocks, and how he had heard the raider declare his
+intention of hanging him. It was a terrible tale of woe, and his
+audience was thrilled and horrified. "Lord" Bill alone appeared unmoved.
+A close observer even might have noticed the faintest suspicion of a
+smile at the corners of his mouth. The smile broadened as the sharp
+doctor launched a question at the narrator of terrible facts.
+
+"How came you to see all this, and escape?"
+
+Thompson was at no loss. He told how he had been sent up by "Poker" John
+to find Horrocks and tell him about Lablache. How he arrived in time to
+see the horrors perpetrated, and how he only managed to escape with his
+own life by flight, under cover of the darkness, and how, pursued by the
+bloodthirsty Breeds, he had managed to hide on the prairie, where he
+remained until daylight, and then by a circuitous route got back to the
+settlement.
+
+"I tell you what it is, doctor," he finished up consequentially, "the
+Breeds are in open rebellion, and, headed by that devil, Retief, intend
+to clear us whites out of the country. It's the starting of another Riel
+rebellion, and if we don't get help from the Government quickly, it's
+all up with us. That's my opinion," and he gazed patronizingly upon the
+crowd, which by this time had assembled.
+
+"Nonsense, man," said the doctor sharply. "Your opinion's warped.
+Besides, you're in a blue funk. Come on over to 'old man' Smith's and
+have a 'freshener.' You want bucking-up. Coming, Bill?" he went on,
+turning to Bunning-Ford. "I want an 'eye-opener' myself. What say to a
+'Collins'?"
+
+The three moved away from the crowd, which they left horrified at what
+it had heard, and eagerly discussing and enlarging upon the sanguinary
+stories of Thompson.
+
+"Poker" John was already at the saloon when the three reached the door
+of "old man" Smith's reeking den. The proprietor was sweeping the bar,
+in a vain effort to clear the atmosphere of the nauseating stench of
+stale tobacco and drink. John was propped against the bar mopping up his
+fourth "Collins." He usually had a thirst that took considerable
+quenching in the mornings now. His over-night potations were deep and
+strong. Morning "nibbling" had consequently become a disease with him.
+"Old man" Smith, with a keen eye to business, systematically mixed the
+rancher's morning drinks good and strong.
+
+Bill and the doctor were not slow to detect the condition of their old
+friend, and each felt deeply on the subject. Their cheery greetings,
+however, were none the less hearty. Smith desisted in his dusty
+occupation and proceeded to serve his customers.
+
+"We're having lively times, John," said the doctor, after emptying his
+"long sleever." "Guess Retief's making things 'hum' in Foss River."
+
+"Hum? Shout is more like it," drawled Bill. "You've heard all the news,
+John?"
+
+"I've enough news of my own," growled the rancher.
+
+"Been up all night. I see you've got Thompson with you. What did
+Horrocks do after you told him about Lablache?" he went on, turning to
+the clerk.
+
+Bill and the doctor exchanged meaning glances. The clerk having found a
+fresh audience again repeated his story. "Poker" John listened
+carefully. At the close of the narrative he snorted disdainfully and
+looked from the clerk to his two friends. Then he laughed loudly. The
+clerk became angry.
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Allandale, but if you doubt my word--"
+
+"Doubt your word, boy?" he said, when his mirth had subsided. "I don't
+doubt your word. Only I've spent most of the night up at the Breed camp
+myself."
+
+"And were you there, sir, when Horrocks was captured?"
+
+"No, I was not. After you came to my place and went on to the camp, I
+was very uneasy. So, after a bit, I got my 'hands' together and prepared
+to follow you up there. Just as I was about to set out," he went on,
+turning to the doctor and Bill, "I met Jacky coming in. Bless you if she
+hadn't been to see the pusky herself. You know," with a slight frown,
+"that child is much too fond of those skulking Breeds. Well, anyway, she
+said everything was quiet enough while she was there and," turning again
+to Thompson, "she had seen nothing of Retief or Horrocks or any of the
+latter's men. We just put our heads together, and she convinced me that
+I was right, after what had occurred at the store, and had better go up.
+So up I went. We searched the whole camp. I guess we were there for nigh
+on three hours. The place was quiet enough. They were still dancing and
+drinking, but not a blessed sign of Horrocks could we find."
+
+"I expect he'd gone before you got there, sir," put in Thompson.
+
+"Did you find the bodies of the murdered police?" asked the doctor
+innocently.
+
+"Not a sign of 'em," laughed John. "There were no dead policemen, and,
+what's more, there was no trace of any shooting."
+
+The three men turned on the clerk, who felt that he must justify
+himself.
+
+"There was shooting enough, sir; you mark my words. You'll hear of it
+to-day, sure."
+
+"Lord" Bill walked away towards the window in disgust. The clerk annoyed
+him.
+
+"No, boy, no. I'm thinking you are mistaken. I should have discovered
+some trace had there been any shooting. I don't deny that your story's
+true, but in the excitement of the moment I guess you got rattled--and
+saw things."
+
+Old John laughed and turned away. At that instant Bill called them all
+over to the window. The bar window overlooked the market-place, and the
+front of Lablache's store was almost opposite to it.
+
+Bill pointed towards the store as the three men gathered round. "Old
+man" Smith also ranged himself with the others.
+
+"Look!" Bill smiled grimly.
+
+A buckboard had just drawn up outside Lablache's emporium and two people
+were alighting. A crowd had gathered round the arrivals. There was no
+mistaking one of the figures. The doctor was the first to give
+expression to the thought that was in the mind of each of the interested
+spectators.
+
+"Lablache!" he exclaimed in astonishment
+
+"And Horrocks," added "Lord" Bill quietly.
+
+"Guess he wasn't hung then after all," said "Poker" John, turning as he
+spoke. But Thompson had taken his departure. This last blow was too
+much. And he felt that it was an advantageous moment in which to retire
+to his employer's store, and hide his diminished head amongst the bales
+of dry goods and the monumental ledgers to be found there.
+
+"That youth has a considerable imagination." The Hon. Bunning-Ford
+turned from the window and strolled leisurely towards the door.
+
+"Where are you going?" exclaimed "Poker" John.
+
+"To cook some breakfast."
+
+"No, no, you must come up to the ranch with me. Let's go right over to
+the store first, and hear what Lablache has to say. Then we'll go and
+feed."
+
+Bill shrugged. Then,--
+
+"Lablache and I are not on the best of terms," he said doubtfully. He
+wished to go notwithstanding his demur. Besides he was anxious to go on
+to the ranch to see Jacky. The doubt in his tone gave John his cue, and
+the old man refused to be denied.
+
+"Come along," he said, and linking his arm within the other's, he led
+the way over to the store; the doctor, equally eager, bringing up the
+rear.
+
+Bill suffered himself to be thus led. He knew that in such company
+Lablache could not very well refuse him admission to his office. He had
+a decided wish to be present when the money-lender told his tale.
+However, in this he was doomed to disappointment. Lablache had already
+decided upon a plan of action.
+
+At the store the three friends made their way through the crowd of
+curious people who had gathered on the unexpected return of the chief
+actors in last night's drama; they made their way quickly round to the
+back where the private door was.
+
+Lablache was within, and with him Horrocks. The heavy voice of the
+money-lender answered "Poker" John's summons.
+
+"Come in."
+
+He was surprised when the door opened, and he saw who his visitors were.
+John and the doctor he was prepared for, but "Lord" Bill's coming was a
+different matter. For an instant he seriously meditated an angry
+objection. Then he altered his mind, a thing which was rare with him.
+After all the man's presence could do no harm, and he felt that to
+object to him, would be to quarrel with the rancher. On second thoughts
+he would tolerate what he considered the intrusion.
+
+Lablache was ensconced in his basket chair, and Horrocks was at the
+great man's desk. Neither moved as their visitors entered. The troubles
+of the previous night were plainly written on both men's faces. There
+was a haggard look in their eyes, and a generally dishevelled appearance
+about their dress. Lablache in particular looked unwashed and untidy.
+Horrocks looked less troubled, and there was a strong air of
+determination about his face.
+
+"Poker" John showed no niceness in broaching the subject of his visit.
+His libations had roused him to the proper pitch for plain speaking.
+
+"Well, what happened to you last night, Lablache? I guess you're looking
+about as blue as they make 'em. Say, I thought sure Retief was going to
+do for you when I heard about it."
+
+"Ah. Who told you about--about me?"
+
+"Your clerk."
+
+"Rodgers?"
+
+"No, Thompson."
+
+"Ah! Have you seen Rodgers at all?"
+
+"No." John turned to the other two. "Have you?"
+
+Neither of the men had seen the clerk, and old John turned again to
+Lablache.
+
+"Why, what's happened to Rodgers?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. I haven't seen him since I have been back--that's all."
+
+"Well, now tell us all about last night," went on the rancher. "This
+matter is going to be cleared up. I have been thinking of a vigilance
+committee. We can't do better."
+
+Lablache shook his great head. To the doctor and "Lord" Bill there
+seemed to be an utter hopelessness conveyed in the motion.
+
+"I have nothing to tell. Neither has Horrocks. What happened last night
+concerns ourselves alone. You may possibly hear more later on, but the
+telling by us now will do no good, and probably a lot of harm. As for
+your vigilance committee, form it if you like, but I doubt that you will
+do any good with it."
+
+This refusal riled the old rancher. He was just in that condition when
+it would take little to make him quarrel. He was about to rap out an
+angry retort when a knock came at the partition door. It was Thompson.
+He had come to say that the troopers had returned, and wanted to see the
+sergeant. Also to say that Rodgers was with them. Horrocks immediately
+went out to see them, and, before John could say a word, Lablache turned
+on him.
+
+"Look here, John, for the present my lips are sealed. It is Horrocks's
+wish. He has a plan which he wishes to carry out quietly. The result of
+his plan largely depends upon silence. Retief seems to have sources of
+information everywhere. Walls have ears, man. Now, I shall be glad if
+you will leave me. I--I must get cleaned up."
+
+John's anger died within him. He saw that Lablache was upset. He looked
+absolutely ill. The old man's good nature would not allow him to press
+this companion of his ranching life further. There was nothing left for
+him to do but leave.
+
+As he rose to go, the money-lender unbent still further.
+
+"I'll see you later, John, I may then be able to tell you more. Perhaps
+it may interest you to know that Horrocks has discovered the path across
+the keg, and--he's going to cross it. Good-by. So long, Doc."
+
+"Very well, I shall be up at the ranch. Come along, Bill. Jacky, I
+expect, is waiting breakfast for us."
+
+Lablache heard the old man's remark as the latter passed out, and a
+bitter feeling of resentment rose within him. He felt that everything
+was against him. His evil nature, however, would not let him remain long
+desponding. He ground his teeth and cursed bitterly. It had only wanted
+a fillip such as this to rouse him from the curious lethargic
+hopelessness into which the terrible night's doings had cast him.
+
+The moment the three men got away from the store, Doctor Abbot drew
+attention to the money-lender's words.
+
+"Going to cross the keg, eh? Well, if he's really discovered the path
+it's certainly the best thing to do. He's a sharp man is Horrocks."
+
+"He's a fool!"
+
+Bill's words were so emphatic that both men stared at him. If they were
+startled at his words, they were still more startled at the set
+expression of his face. Doctor Abbot thought he had never seen the
+_insouciant_ Bill so roused out of himself.
+
+"Why--how?"
+
+"How? I tell you, man, that no one knows that path
+except--except--Retief, and, supposing Horrocks has discovered it, if he
+attempts to cross, there can only be one result to his mad folly. I tell
+you what it is, the man should be stopped. It's absolute
+suicide--nothing more nor less."
+
+Something in the emphasis of "Lord" Bill's words kept the others silent
+until the doctor left them at his home. Then as the two men hurried out
+across the prairie towards the ranch, the conversation turned back to
+the events of the previous evening.
+
+At the ranch they found Jacky awaiting the old man's return, on the
+veranda. She was surprised when she saw who was with him. Her surprise
+was a pleasant one, however, and she extended her hand in cordial
+welcome.
+
+"Come right in, Bill. Gee, but you look fit--and slick."
+
+The two young people smiled into each other's faces, and no onlooker,
+not even the observant Aunt Margaret, could have detected the
+understanding which passed in that look. Jacky was radiant. Her sweet,
+dark face was slightly flushed. There were no tell-tale rings about her
+dark eyes. For all sign she gave to the contrary she might have enjoyed
+the full measure of a night's rest. Her visit to the Breed camp, or, for
+that matter, any other adventures which had befallen her during the
+night, had left no trace on her beautiful face.
+
+"I've brought the boy up to feed," said old John. "I guess we'll get
+right to it. I've got a 'twist' on me that'll take considerable to
+satisfy."
+
+The meal passed pleasantly enough. The conversation naturally was
+chiefly confined to the events of the night. But somehow the others did
+not respond very eagerly to the old rancher's evident interest and
+concern. Most of the talking--most of the theorizing--most of the
+suggestions for the stamping out of the scourge, Retief, came from him,
+the others merely contenting themselves with agreeing to his suggestions
+with a lack of interest which, had the old man been perfectly sober, he
+could not have failed to observe. However, he was especially obtuse this
+morning, and was too absorbed in his own impracticable theories and
+suggestions to notice the others' lack of interest.
+
+At the conclusion of the meal the rancher took himself off down to the
+settlement again. He must endeavor to draw Lablache, he said. He would
+not wait for him to come to the ranch.
+
+Jacky and Bill went out on to the veranda, and watched the old man as he
+set out with unsteady gait for the settlement.
+
+"Bill," said the girl, as soon as her uncle was out of earshot, "what
+news?"
+
+"Two items of interest One, the very best, and the other--the very
+worst."
+
+"Which means?"
+
+"No one has the least suspicion of us; and Horrocks, the madman, intends
+to attempt the passage of the keg."
+
+"Lord" Bill jaws shut with a snap as he ceased speaking. The look which
+accompanied his last announcement was one of utter dejection. Jacky did
+not reply for an instant, her great eyes had taken on a look of deep
+anxiety as she gazed towards the muskeg.
+
+"Bill, can nothing be done to stop him?" She gazed appealingly up into
+the face of the tall figure beside her. "He is a brave man, if foolish."
+
+"That's just it, dear. He's headstrong and means to see this thing
+through. Had I thought that he would ever dream of contemplating such a
+suicidal feat as attempting that path, I'd never have let him see the
+cattle cross last night. My God! it turns me sick to think of it."
+
+"Hush, Bill, don't talk so loud. Do you think any one could dissuade
+him? Lablache, or--or uncle, for instance."
+
+Bunning-Ford shook his head. His look was troubled.
+
+"Horrocks is not the man to be turned from his purpose," he replied.
+"And besides, Lablache would not attempt such a thing. He is too keen to
+capture--Relief," with a bitter laugh. "A life more or less would not
+upset that scoundrel's resolve. As for your uncle," with a shrug, "I
+don't think he's the man for the task. No, Jacky," he went on, with a
+sigh, "we must let things take their course now. We have embarked on
+this business. We mustn't weaken. His blood be upon his own head."
+
+They relapsed into silence for some moments. "Lord" Bill lit a
+cigarette, and leant himself against one of the veranda posts. He was
+worried at the turn events had taken. He had no grudge against Horrocks;
+the man was but doing his duty. But his meditated attempt he considered
+to be an exaggerated sense of that duty. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"Jacky--do you know, I feel that somehow the end of this business is
+approaching. What the end is to be I cannot foretell. One thing,
+however, is clear. Sooner or later we must run foul of people, and when
+that occurs--well," throwing his cigarette from him viciously, "it
+simply means shooting. And--"
+
+"Yes, Bill, I know what you would say. Shooting means killing, killing
+means murder, and murder means swinging. You're right, but," and the
+girl's eyes began to blaze, "before that, Lablache must go under.
+Whatever happens, Bill, before we decorate any tree with our bodies, if
+our object is not already obtained, I'll shoot him with my own pistol. I
+guess we're embarked on a game that we're going to see through."
+
+"That's so. We'll see it through. Do you know what stock we've taken,
+all told? Close on twenty thousand head, and--all Lablache's. They're
+snug over at 'Bad Man's' Hollow, and a tidy fine bunch they are. The
+division with the boys is a twentieth each, and the balance is ours. Our
+share is ten thousand." He ceased speaking. Then presently he went on,
+harking back to the subject of Horrocks. "I wish that man could be
+stayed. His failure must precipitate matters. Should he drown, as he
+surely will, the whole countryside will join in the hue and cry. It is
+only his presence here that keeps the settlers in check. Well, so be it.
+It's a pity. But I'm not going to swing. They'll never take me alive."
+
+"If it comes to that, Bill, you'll not be alone, I guess. You can gamble
+your soul, when it comes to open warfare I'm with you, an' I guess I can
+shoot straight."
+
+Bill looked at the girl in astonishment. He noted the keen deep eyes,
+the set little mouth. The fearless expression on her beautiful face. Her
+words had fairly taken his breath away, but he saw that she had meant
+what she said.
+
+"No, no, girlie. No one will suspect you. Besides, this is my affair.
+You have your uncle."
+
+"Say, boy, I love my uncle--I love him real well. I'm working for him,
+we both are--and we'll work for him to the last. But our work together
+has taught me something, Bill, and when I cotton to teaching there's
+nothing that can knock what I learn out of my head. I've just learned to
+love you, Bill. And, as the Bible says, old Uncle John's got to take
+second place. That's all. If you go under--well, I guess I'll go under
+too."
+
+Jacky gave her lover no chance to reply. As he opened his lips to
+expostulate and took a step towards her she darted away, and disappeared
+into the sitting-room. He followed her in, but the room was empty.
+
+He paused. Then a smile spread over his face.
+
+"I don't fancy we shall go under, little woman," he muttered, "at least,
+not if I can help it."
+
+He turned back to the veranda and strolled away towards the settlement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE PAW OF THE CAT
+
+
+Lablache was alone. Horrocks had left him to set out on his final effort
+to discover Retief's hiding-place. The great man was eagerly waiting for
+his return. Evening was drawing on and the officer had not yet put in an
+appearance, neither had the money-lender received any word from him. In
+consequence he was beginning to hope that Horrocks had succeeded.
+
+All day the wretched man had been tortured by horrid fears. And, as time
+passed and evening drew on, his mood became almost a panic. The
+money-lender was in a deplorable state of mind; his nerves were shaken,
+and he was racked by a dread of he scarce knew what. What he had gone
+through the night before had driven him to the verge of mental collapse.
+No bodily injury could have thus reduced him; for, whatever might have
+been his failings, physical cowardice was not amongst the number. Any
+moral weakness which might have been his had been so obscured by long
+years of success and prosperity, that no one knowing him would have
+believed him to be so afflicted. No, in spite of his present condition
+Lablache was a strong man.
+
+But the frightful mental torture he had endured at Retief's hands had
+told its tale. The attack of the last twenty-four hours had been made
+against him alone; at least, so Lablache understood it. Retief's efforts
+were only in his direction; the raider had robbed him of twenty thousand
+head of cattle; he had burnt his beautiful ranch out, in sheer
+wantonness it seemed to the despairing man; what then would be his next
+move if he were not stopped? What else was there of
+his--Lablache's--that the Breed could attack? His store--yes--yes; his
+store! That was all that was left of his property in Foss River. And
+then--what then? There was nothing after that, except, perhaps--except
+his life.
+
+Lablache stirred in his seat and wheezed heavily as he arrived at this
+conclusion. His horrified thoughts were expressed in the look of fear
+that was in his lashless eyes.
+
+His life--yes! That must be the raider's culminating object. Or would he
+leave him that, so that he might further torture him by burning him out
+of Calford. He pondered fearfully, and hard, practical as was his
+nature, the money-lender allowed his imagination to run riot over
+possibilities which surely his cooler judgment would have scoffed at.
+
+Lablache rose hurriedly from his chair. It only wanted a quarter to
+five. Putting his head through the partition doorway he ordered his
+astonished clerks to close up. He felt that he could not--dare not keep
+the store open longer. Then he inspected the private door of his office.
+The spring catch was fast. He locked his safe. All the time he moved
+about fearfully--like some hunted criminal. At last he returned to his
+seat. His bilious eyes roved over the various objects in the room. A
+hunted look was in them. His mind seemed fixed on one thought alone--the
+coming of Retief.
+
+After this he grew more calm. Perhaps the knowledge that the store was
+secure now against any intruder helped to steady his nerves. Then he
+started--was the store secure? He rose again and went to the window to
+put up the shutter. He gazed out towards the Foss River Ranch, and, as
+he gazed, he saw some one riding fast towards the settlement.
+
+The horseman came nearer; the sight fascinated the great man. Now the
+traveler had reached the market place, and was coming on towards the
+store. Suddenly the money-lender recognized in the horseman one of
+Horrocks's troopers, mounted on a horse from John Allandale's stable. A
+wild hope leapt up in his heart. Then, as the man drew nearer and
+Lablache saw the horrified expression of his face, hope went from him,
+and he feared the worst.
+
+The clatter of hoofs ceased outside the office door. Lablache stepped
+heavily forward and threw it open. He stood framed in the doorway as the
+man gasped out his terrible news.
+
+"He's drowned, sir, drowned before our eyes. We tried, but couldn't save
+him. He would go, sir; we tried to persuade him, but he would go. No
+more than fifty yards from the bank, and then down he went. He was out
+of sight in two minutes. It was horrible, sir, and him never uttered a
+sound. I'm going in to Stormy Cloud to report an' get instructions.
+Anything I can do, sir?"
+
+So the worst was realized. For the moment the money-lender could find no
+words. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. His last hope--the
+last barrier between him and the man whom he considered his arch enemy,
+Retief, seemed to have been shattered. He thought not of the horror of
+the policeman's drowning; he felt no sorrow at the reckless man's
+ghastly end. He merely thought of himself. He saw only how the man's
+death affected his personal interests. At last he gurgled out some
+words. He scarce knew what he said.
+
+"There's nothing to be done. Yes--no--yes, you'd better go up to the
+Allandales," he went on uncertainly. "They'll send a rescue party."
+
+The trooper dashed off and Lablache securely fastened the door. Then he
+put the shutter over the window, and, notwithstanding that it was broad
+daylight still, he lit the lamp.
+
+Once more he returned to his protesting chair, into which he almost
+fell. To him this last catastrophe was as the last straw. What was now
+to become of the settlement; what was to become of him? Horrocks gone;
+the troopers withdrawn, or, at least, without a guiding hand, what
+might Retief not be free to do while the settlement awaited the coming
+of a fresh detachment of police. He impotently cursed the raider. The
+craven weakness, induced by his condition of nervous prostration, was
+almost pitiable. All the selfishness which practically monopolized his
+entire nature displayed itself in his terror. He cared nothing for
+others. He believed that Retief was at war with him alone. He believed
+that the raider sought only his wealth--his wealth which his years of
+hard work and unscrupulous methods had laboriously piled up--the wealth
+he loved and lived for--the wealth which was to him as a god. He thought
+of all he had already lost. He counted it up in thousands, and his eyes
+grew wide with horror and despair as the figures mounted up, up, until
+they represented a great fortune.
+
+The long-suffering chair creaked under him as he flung himself back in
+it, his pasty, heavy-jowled face was ghastly under the lash of
+despairing thought. Only a miser, one of those wretched creatures who
+live only for the contemplation of their hoarded wealth, could
+understand the feelings of the miserable man as he lay back in his
+chair.
+
+The man who had thus reduced the money-lender must have understood his
+nature as did the inquisitors of old understand the weaknesses of their
+victims. For surely he could have found no other vulnerable spot in the
+great man's composition.
+
+The first shock of the trooper's news began to pass. Lablache's mind
+began to balance itself again. Such a state of nerves as was his could
+not last and the man remain sane. Possibly the thought that he was still
+a rich man came to his aid. Possibly the thought of hundreds of
+thousands of dollars sunk in perfect securities, in various European
+centers, toned down the grievousness of his losses. Whatever it was he
+grew calmer, and with calmness his scheming nature reasserted itself.
+
+He moved from his seat and helped himself liberally to the whisky which
+was in his cabinet. He needed the generous spirit, and drank it off at
+a gulp. His chair behind him creaked. He started. His ashen face became
+more ghastly in its hue. He looked round fearfully. Then he understood,
+and he wheezed heavily. Once more he sat himself down, and the warming
+spirit steadily did its work.
+
+Suddenly his mind leapt forward, as it were, from its stagnatory
+condition of abject fear. It traveled swiftly, urged by a pursuing dread
+over plans for the future. The guiding star of his thought was safety.
+At all costs he must find safety for his property and himself. So long
+as Retief was at large there could be no safety for him in Foss River.
+He must get away. He must get away, bearing with him the fruits which
+yet remained to him of his life's toil. He had contemplated retiring
+before. His retirement from business would mean ruin to many of those
+who had borrowed from him he knew, and to those on whose property he
+held mortgages as security. But that could not be helped. He was not
+going to allow himself to suffer through what he considered any
+humanitarian weakness. Yes, he would retire--get away from the reach of
+Retief and his companions, and--ah!
+
+His thoughts merged into another channel--a channel which, under the
+stress of his terrors, had for the moment been obscured. He suddenly
+thought of the Allandales. Here for the instant was a stumbling block.
+Or should he renounce his passion for Jacky? He drummed thoughtfully
+with his finger-tips upon the arms of his chair.
+
+No, why should he give her up? Something of his old nerve was returning.
+He held all the cards. He knew he could, by foreclosing, ruin "Poker"
+John. Why should he give the girl up, and see her calmly secured by that
+cursed Bunning-Ford? His bilious eyes half closed and his sparse
+eyebrows drew together in a deep concentration of thought. Then
+presently his forehead smoothed, and his lashless eyes gleamed wickedly.
+He rose heavily to his feet and labored to and fro across the floor,
+with his beefy hands clasped behind his back.
+
+"Excellent--excellent," he muttered. "The devil could not have designed
+it better." There was a grim, evil smile about his mouth. "Yes, a
+game--a game. It will tickle old John, and will carry out my purpose.
+The mortgages which I hold on his property are nothing to me. Most are
+gambling debts. For the rest the interest has covered the principal. I
+have seen to that. But he is in arrears now. Good--good. Their
+abandonment represents no loss to me--ha, ha." He chuckled mirthlessly.
+"A little game--a gentle flutter, friend John, and the stakes all in my
+favor. But I do not intend to lose. Oh, no. The girl might outwit me if
+I lost. I shall win, and on my wedding day I shall be
+magnanimous--good." He unclasped his hands and rubbed them together
+gleefully.
+
+"The uncle's consent--his persuasion. She will do as he wishes or--ruin.
+It is capital--a flawless scheme. And then to leave Foss River forever.
+God, but I shall be glad," with a return to his nervous dread. He looked
+about him; eagerly, his great paunchy figure pictured grotesquely
+beneath the pasty, fearful face.
+
+"Now to see John," he went on, after a moment's pause. "How--how? I wish
+I could get him here. It would be better here. There would be no chance
+of listening ears. Besides, there is the whisky." He paused again
+thinking. "Yes," he muttered presently. "Delay would be bad. I must not
+give my enemy time. At once--at once. Nothing like doing things at once.
+I must go to John. But--" and he looked dubiously at the darkened
+window--"when I return it will be dark." He picked up his other revolver
+and slipped it into his breast pocket. "Yes, yes, I am getting
+foolish--old. Come along, my friend, we will go."
+
+He seized his hat and went to the office door. He paused with his hand
+upon the lock, and gave one final look round, then he turned the spring
+with a great show of determination and passed out.
+
+It was a different man who left the little office on that evening to
+the man who had for so many years governed the destinies of the smaller
+ranching world of the Foss River district. He had truly said that he was
+getting old--but he did not quite realize how old. His enemies had done
+their work only too well. The terrible consequences of the night of
+terror were to have far-reaching results.
+
+The money-lender set out for the ranch bristling with eagerness to put
+into execution his hastily conceived plan.
+
+He found the old rancher in his sanctum. He was alone brooding over the
+calamity which had befallen the police-officer, and stimulating his
+thought with silent "nippings" at the whisky bottle. He was in a
+semi-maudlin condition when the money-lender entered, and greeted his
+visitor with almost childish effusion.
+
+Lablache saw and understood, and a sense of satisfaction came to him. He
+hoped his task would be easier than he had anticipated. His evil nature
+rose to the occasion, and, for the moment, his own troubles and fears
+were forgotten. There was a cat-like licking of the lips as he
+contemplated the pitiful picture before him.
+
+"Well?" said old John, looking into the other's face with a pair of
+bloodshot eyes, as he re-seated himself after rising to greet his
+visitor. "Well, poor Horrocks has gone--gone, a victim to his sense of
+duty. I guess, Lablache, there are few men would have shown his grit."
+
+"Grit! Yes, that's so." The money-lender had been about to say "folly,"
+but he checked himself. He did not want to offend "Poker" John--now.
+
+"Yes. The poor fellow was too good for his work," he went on, in tones
+of commiseration. "'Tis indeed a catastrophe, John. And we are the
+losers by it. I regret now that I did not altogether agree with him when
+he first came amongst us."
+
+John wagged his head. He looked to be near weeping. His companion's
+sympathetic tone was almost too much for his whisky-laden heart. But
+Lablache had not come here to discuss Horrocks, or, for that matter, to
+sympathize with the gray-headed wreck of manhood before him. He wished
+to find out first of all if anybody was about whom his plans concerned,
+and then to force his proposition upon his old companion. He carefully
+led the rancher to talk of other things.
+
+"The man has gone into Stormy Cloud to report?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And who are they likely to send down in place--ah--of the unfortunate
+Horrocks, think you?"
+
+"Can't say. I guess they'll send a good man. I've asked for more men."
+
+The old man roused somewhat from his maudlin state.
+
+"Ah, that's a good move, John," said the money-lender. "What does Jacky
+think about--these things?"
+
+The question was put carelessly. John yawned, and poured out a "tot" of
+whisky for his friend.
+
+"Guess I haven't seen the child since breakfast. She seemed to take it
+badly enough then."
+
+"Thanks. Aren't you going to have one?" as John pushed the glass over to
+the other.
+
+"Why, yes, man. Never shirk my liquor."
+
+He dashed a quantity of raw spirit into his glass and drank it off.
+Lablache looked on with intense satisfaction. John rose unsteadily, and,
+supporting himself against the furniture as he went, moved over to the
+French window and closed it. Then he lurched heavily back into his chair
+again. His eyes half closed. But he roused at the sound of Lablache's
+guttural tones.
+
+"John, old friend." Muddled as he was the rancher started at the term.
+"I've come to have a long chat with you. This morning I could not talk.
+I was too broken up--too, too ill. Now listen and you shall hear of all
+that happened last night, and then you will the better be able to judge
+of the wisdom of my decision."
+
+John listened while Lablache told his tale. The money-lender embellished
+the facts slightly so as the further to emphasize them. Then, at the
+conclusion of the story of his night's doings, he went on to matters
+which concerned his future.
+
+"Yes, John, there is nothing left for me but to get out of the country.
+Mind this is no sudden determination, but a conclusion I have long
+arrived at. These disastrous occurrences have merely hastened my plans.
+I am not so young as I was, you know," with an attempt at lightness, "I
+simply dare not stay. I fear that Retief will soon attempt my life."
+
+He sighed and looked for sympathy. Old John seemed too amazed to
+respond. He had never realized that the raider's efforts were solely
+directed against Lablache. The money-lender went on.
+
+"And that is why I have come to you, my oldest friend. I feel you should
+be the first to know, for with no one else in Foss River have I lived in
+such perfect harmony. And, besides, you are the most interested."
+
+The latter was in the tone of an afterthought. Strangely enough the
+careless way in which it was spoken carried the words well home to the
+rancher's muddled brain.
+
+"Interested?" he echoed blankly.
+
+"Why, yes. Certainly, you are the most interested. I mean from a
+monetary point of view. You see, the winding up of my business will
+entail the settling up of--er--my books."
+
+"Yes," said the rancher, with doubtful understanding.
+
+"Then--er--you take my meaning as to how--er--how you are interested."
+
+"You mean my arrears of interest," said the gray headed old man dazedly.
+
+"Just so. You will have to meet your liabilities to me."
+
+"But--but--man." The rancher spluttered for words to express himself.
+This was the money-lender's opportunity, and he seized it.
+
+"You see, John, in retiring from business I am not altogether a free
+agent. My affairs are so mixed up with the affairs of the Calford Trust
+and Loan Co. The period of one of your mortgages, for instance--the
+heaviest by the way--has long expired. It has not been renewed. The
+interest is in arrears. This mortgage was arranged by me jointly with
+the Calford Trust and Loan Co. When I retire it will have to be settled
+up. Being my friend I have not troubled you, but doubtless the company
+will have no sentiment about it. As to the others--they are debts of
+honor. I am afraid these things will have to be settled, John. You will
+of course be able to meet them."
+
+"God, man, but I can't," old John exclaimed. "I tell you I can't," he
+reiterated in a despairing voice.
+
+Lablache shrugged his obese shoulders.
+
+"That is unfortunate."
+
+"But, Lablache," said the rancher, gazing with drunken earnestness into
+the other's face, "you will not press me?"
+
+"Why no, John, of course not--as far as I am personally concerned. I
+have known you too long and have too much regard for you and--yours. No,
+no, John; of course I am a business man, but I am still your friend.
+Friend--eh, John--your friend."
+
+The rancher looked relieved, and helped himself to more whisky. Lablache
+joined him and they silently drank. "Poker" John set his empty glass
+down first.
+
+"Now Lablache, about these lia-liabilities," he said with a hiccup.
+"What is to be done?"
+
+"Well, John, we are friends of such old standing that I don't like to
+retire from business and leave you inconvenienced by the process.
+Perhaps there is a way by which I can help you. I am very wealthy--and
+wealth is a great power--a very great power even in this wild region.
+Now, suppose I make a proposition to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"POKER" JOHN ACCEPTS
+
+
+"Ah!"
+
+There was a tone of drunken suspicion about the exclamation which was
+not lost on Lablache.
+
+"If you were suddenly called upon to meet your liabilities to me, John,"
+said the money-lender, smiling, "how would it fix you?"
+
+"It would mean ruin," replied John, hoarsely.
+
+Lablache cleared his throat and snorted. Then he smiled benignly upon
+his old companion.
+
+"That's just what I thought. Well, you're not going to be ruined--by me.
+I'm going to burn the mortgages and settle with the Calford Trust and
+Loan Co. myself--"
+
+The rancher feared to trust his ears.
+
+"That is if you are willing to do something for me."
+
+In his eager hope John Allandale had leant forward so as not to miss a
+word the other said. Now, however, he threw himself back in his chair.
+Some suspicion was in his mind. It might have been intuition. He knew
+Lablache well. He laughed cynically.
+
+"That's more like you," he said roughly.
+
+"One moment," said the money-lender; the smile vanished from his lips.
+"Fair play's good medicine. We'll wipe out your debts if you'll tell
+your niece that you want her to marry me."
+
+"I'll--I'll--"
+
+"Hold on, John," with upraised hand, as the old man purpled with rage
+and started to shout.
+
+"I'll see you damned first!" The rancher had lurched on to his feet and
+his fist came down with a crash upon the corner of the table. Lablache
+remained unmoved.
+
+"Tut tut, man; now listen to me." The old man towered unsteadily over
+him. "I can't understand your antipathy to me as a husband for your
+niece. Give your consent--she'll do it for you--and, on my wedding day,
+I burn those mortgages and I'll settle 100,000 dollars upon Jacky.
+Besides this I'll put 200,000 dollars into your ranch to develop it, and
+only ask ten per cent, of the profits. Can I speak fairer? That girl of
+yours is a good girl, John; too good to kick about the prairie. I'll
+make her a good husband. She shall do as she pleases, live where she
+likes. You can always be with us if you choose. It's no use being riled,
+John, I'm making an honest proposition."
+
+The rancher calmed. In the face of such a generous proposal he could not
+insult Lablache. He was determined, however. It was strange, perhaps,
+that any suggestion for his influence to be used in his niece's choice
+of a husband should have such a violent effect upon him. But "Poker"
+John was a curious mixture of weakness and honor. He loved his niece
+with a doting affection. She was the apple of his eye. To him the
+thought of personal benefit at the cost of her happiness was a
+sacrilege. Lablache understood this. He knew that on this point the
+rancher's feelings amounted to little short of mania. And yet he
+persisted. John's nature was purely obstinate, and obstinacy is
+weakness. The money-lender knew that obstinacy could be broken down by
+steady determination. However, time, with him, was now everything. He
+must clinch the deal with as little delay as possible if he would escape
+from Foss River and the ruinous attacks of Retief. This thought was ever
+present with him and urged him to press the old man hard. If John
+Allandale would not be reasonable, he, Lablache, must force an
+acceptance of his terms from him.
+
+The rancher was mollified. His dulled brain suddenly saw a loop-hole of
+escape.
+
+"I guess you mean well enough, Lablache. But say, ask the child
+yourself."
+
+The other shook his massive head.
+
+"I have--she has refused."
+
+"Then why in thunder do you come to me?"
+
+The angry light was again in the rancher's bloodshot eyes.
+
+"Why? Because she will marry me if you choose. She can't refuse--she
+dare not."
+
+"Then, by God, I'll refuse for her--"
+
+He paused disconcertedly in his wrath. Lablache's cold eyes fixed him
+with their icy stare.
+
+"Very well, John," said Lablache, with a contemptuous shrug. "You know
+the inevitable result of such a hasty decision. It means ruin to
+you--beggary to that poor child." His teeth snapped viciously. Then he
+smiled with his mouth. "I can only put your de--refusal down to utter,
+unworthy selfishness."
+
+"Not selfishness, Lablache--not that. I would sacrifice everything in
+the world for that child--"
+
+"Except your own pleasure--your own personal comforts. Bah, man!" with
+scathing contempt, "your object must be plain to the veriest fool. You
+do not wish to lose her. You fear to lose your best servant lest in
+consequence you find the work of the ranch thrust upon your own hands.
+You would have no time to indulge your love of play. You would no longer
+be able to spend three parts of your time in 'old man' Smith's filthy
+bar. Your conduct is laudable, John--it is worthy of you."
+
+Lablache had expected another outburst of anger, but John only leered in
+response to the other's contempt. Drunk as he was, the rancher saw the
+absurdity of the attack.
+
+"Piffle!" he exclaimed. "Now see, when Jacky comes in you shall hear
+what she has to say."
+
+"Poker" John smiled with satisfaction at his own 'cuteness. He felt that
+he had outwitted the astute usurer. His simplicity, however, was of an
+infantile order.
+
+"That would be useless." Lablache did not want to be confronted with
+Jacky. "My mind is quite made up. The Calford Trust will begin
+proceedings at once, unless--"
+
+"Unless I give my consent."
+
+The satisfaction had suddenly died out of John Allandale's face. Even in
+his maudlin condition he understood the relentless purpose which backed
+the money-lender's proposal. To his credit be it said that he was
+thinking only of Jacky--the one being who was dearer to him than all
+else in the world. For himself he had no thought--he did not care what
+happened. But he longed to save his niece from the threatened
+catastrophe. His seared old face worked in his distress. Lablache beheld
+the sign, and knew that he was weakening.
+
+"Why force me to extremities, John?" he said presently. "If you would
+only be reasonable, I feel sure you would have no matter for regret.
+Now, suppose I went a step further."
+
+"No--no," weakly. There followed a pause. John Allandale avoided the
+other's eyes. To the old man the silence of the room became intolerable.
+He opened his lips to speak. Then he closed them--only to open them
+again. "But--but what step do you propose? Is--is it honest?"
+
+"Perfectly." Lablache was smiling in that indulgent manner he knew so
+well how to assume. "And it might appeal to you. Pressure is a thing I
+hate. Now--suppose we leave the matter to--to chance."
+
+"Chance?" The rancher questioned the other doubtfully.
+
+"Yes--why not?" The money-lender's smile broadened and he leaned forward
+to impress his hearer the more surely. "A little game--a game of poker,
+eh?"
+
+John Allandale shook his head. He failed to grasp the other's meaning.
+
+"I don't understand," he said, struggling with the liquor which fogged
+his dull brain.
+
+"No, of course you don't," easily. "Now listen to me and I'll tell you
+what I mean." The money-lender spoke as though addressing a wayward
+child. "The stakes shall be my terms against your influence with Jacky.
+If you win you keep your girl, and I cancel your mortgages; if I win I
+marry your girl under the conditions I have already offered. It's wholly
+an arrangement for your benefit. All I can possibly gain is your girl.
+Whichever way the game goes I must pay. Saints alive--but what an old
+fool I am!" He laughed constrainedly. "For the sake of a pretty face I'm
+going to give you everything--but there," seriously, "I'd do more to win
+that sweet child for my wife. What d'you say, John?"
+
+There could be no doubt that Lablache meant what he said, only he might
+have put it differently. Had he said that there was nothing at which he
+would stop to secure Jacky, it would have been more in keeping with the
+facts, He meant to marry the girl. His bilious eyes watered. There was a
+sensual look in them. His heavy lips parted and closed with a sucking
+smack as though expressing appreciation of a tasty morsel.
+
+John remained silent, but into his eyes had leapt a gleam which told of
+the lust of gaming aroused. His look--his whole face spoke for him.
+Lablache had primed his hook with an irresistible bait. He knew his man.
+
+"See," he went on, as the other remained silent, "this is the way we can
+arrange it. We will play 'Jackpots' only. The best seven out of
+thirteen. It will be a pretty game, in which, from an outsider's point
+of view, I alone can be the loser. If I win I shall consider myself
+amply repaid. If I lose--well," with an expressive movement of the
+hands, "I will take my chance--as a sportsman should. I love your niece,
+John, and will risk everything to win her. Now, think of it. It will be
+the sweetest, prettiest gamble. And, too, think of the stake. A fortune,
+John--a fortune for you. And for me a bare possibility of realizing my
+hopes."
+
+The old gambler's last vestige of honor struggled to make itself
+apparent in a negative movement of the head. But the movement would not
+come. His thoughts were of the game, and ere yet the last words of the
+money-lender had ceased to sound, he was captured. The satanic cunning
+of the proposal was lost upon his sodden intellect. It was a
+contemptible, pitiable piece of chicanery with which Lablache sought to
+trap the old man into giving his consent and assistance. The
+money-lender had no intention of losing the game. He knew he must win.
+He was merely resorting to this means because he knew the gambling
+spirit of the rancher. He knew that "Poker" John's obstinacy was proof
+against any direct attack; that no persuasion would induce the consent
+he desired. The method of a boxer pounding the body of an opponent whom
+he knows to be afflicted with some organic weakness of the heart is no
+more cowardly than was Lablache's proposal.
+
+The rancher still remained silent. Lablache moved in his chair; one of
+his great fat hands rested for a moment on John's coat sleeve.
+
+"Now, old friend," he said, with a hoarse, whistling breath. "Shall you
+play--play the game? It will be a grand finale to the
+many--er--comfortable games we have played together. Well? Thirteen
+'Jackpots,' John--yes?"
+
+"And--and if I consented--mind, I only say 'if.'" The rancher's face
+twitched nervously.
+
+"You would stand to win a fortune--and also one for your niece."
+
+"Yes--yes. I might win. My luck may turn."
+
+"It must--you cannot always lose."
+
+"Quite right--I must win soon. It is a great offer--a splendid stake."
+
+"It is."
+
+"Yes--yes, Lablache, I will play. God, man! I will play you!"
+
+Beads of sweat stood on John Allandale's forehead as he literally hurled
+his acceptance at his companion. He accepted in the manner of one who
+knows he is setting at defiance all honesty and right, urged to such a
+course by an all-mastering passion, which he is incapable of resisting.
+
+Strange was the nature of this man. He knew himself as it is given to
+few weak men to know themselves. He knew that he wished to do this
+thing. He knew, also, that he was doing wrong. Moreover he knew that he
+wished to stand by Jacky and be true to his great affection for her. He
+was under the influence of potent spirit, and yet his thoughts and
+judgment were clear upon the subject. His mania had possessed him and he
+would play from choice; and all the while he could hear the voice of
+conscience rating him. He would have preferred to play now, but then he
+remembered the quantity of spirit he had consumed. He must take no
+chances. When he played Lablache he must be sober. The delay of one
+night, however, he knew would bring him agonies of remorse, therefore he
+would settle everything now so that in the throes of conscience he could
+not refuse to play. He feared delay. He feared the vacillation which the
+solitary hours of the night might bring to him. He leant forward and
+thickly urged the money-lender.
+
+"When shall it be? Quick, man, let us have no delay. The time,
+Lablache--the time and place."
+
+Lablache wheezed unctuously.
+
+"That's the spirit I like, John," he said, fingering his watch-chain
+with his fat hands. "To business. The place--er--yes." A moment's
+thought whilst the rancher waited with impatience. "Ah, I know. That
+implement shed on your fifty-acre pasture. Excellent. There is a living
+room in it. You used to keep a man there. It is disused now. It will
+suit us admirably. We can use that room. And the time--"
+
+"To-morrow, Lablache. It must be to-morrow. I could not wait longer,"
+broke in the other, in a voice husky with eagerness and liquor. "After
+dark, when no one can see us going out to the shed. No one must know,
+Lablache, mind--no one. Jacky will not dream of what we are doing."
+
+"Very well. To-morrow, then. At eleven o'clock at night, John. And as
+you say in the meantime--mum."
+
+Lablache was pleased with the rancher's suggestion. It quite fell in
+with his own ideas. Everything must be done quickly now. He must get
+away from Foss River without delay.
+
+"Yes--yes. Mum's the word." "Poker" John indicated his approval with an
+upward leer as Lablache rose from his chair, and a grotesque pursing of
+his lips and his forefinger at the side of his nose. Then he, too,
+struggled to his feet, and, with unsteady hand, poured out two stiff
+"horns" of whisky.
+
+He held one out to the money-lender and took the other himself.
+
+"I drink to the game," he said haltingly. "May--fortune come my way."
+
+Lablache nodded comprehensively and slowly raised his glass.
+
+"Fortune is yours anyhow. Therefore I trust that I win the game."
+
+The two men silently drank. After which Lablache turned to go. He paused
+at the French window and plunged his hand into his coat pocket.
+
+The night was dark outside, and again he became a prey to his moral
+terror of the half-breed raider. He drew out his revolver and opened the
+chamber. The weapon was loaded. Then he turned to old John who was
+staring at him.
+
+"It's risky for me to move about at night, John. I fear Retief has not
+done with me yet. Good-night," and he passed out on to the veranda.
+
+Lablache was the victim of a foreboding. It is a custom to laugh at
+forebodings and set them down to the vagaries of a disordered stomach.
+We laugh too at superstition. Yet how often do we find that the
+portentous significance of these things is actually realized in fact.
+Lablache dreaded Retief.
+
+What would the next twenty-four hours bring forth?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+UNCLE AND NIECE
+
+
+"Poker" John's remorse came swiftly, but not swiftly or strongly enough
+to make him give up the game. After Lablache had taken his departure the
+old rancher sat drinking far into the night. With each fresh potation
+his conscience became less persistent in its protest. He sought no bed
+that night, for gradually his senses left him and he slept where he sat,
+until, towards daybreak he awoke, partially sober and shivering with
+cold. Then he arose, and, wrapping himself in a heavy overcoat, flung
+himself upon a couch, where he again sought sobriety in sleep.
+
+He awoke again soon after daylight. His head was racked with pain. He,
+at first, had only a dim recollection of what had occurred the night
+before. There was a vague sense of something unpleasant having happened,
+but he did not attempt to recall it. He went to his bedroom and douched
+himself with cold water. Then he set out for the kitchen in search of
+coffee with which to slack his burning thirst. It was not until he had
+performed his ablutions that the whole truth of his interview with
+Lablache came back to him. Immediately, now that the effect of the
+liquor had passed off, he became a prey to terrible remorse.
+
+Possibly had Jacky been at hand at that moment, the whole course of
+events might have been altered. Her presence, a good breakfast, and
+occupation might have given him strength to carry out the rejection of
+Lablache's challenge which his remorse suggested. However, none of these
+things were at hand, and John Allandale set out, from force of habit, to
+get his morning "Collins" down at "old man" Smith's. Something to pull
+him together before he encountered his niece, he told himself.
+
+It was a fatal delusion. "Old man" Smith sold drink for gain. The more
+he sold the better he liked it. John Allandale's "Collins" developed, as
+it always did now, into three or four potent drinks. So that by the time
+he returned to the ranch for breakfast his remorse was pushed well into
+the background, and with feverish craving he lodged for the fateful
+game.
+
+In spite of his devotion to the bottle John Allandale usually made a
+hearty breakfast. But this morning the sight of Jacky presiding at his
+table upset him, and he left his food almost untasted. Remorse was
+deadened but conscience was yet unsilenced within him. Every time she
+spoke to him, every time he encountered her piercing gray eyes he felt
+himself to be a worse than Judas. In his rough, exaggerated way he told
+himself that he was selling this girl as surely as did the old slave
+owners sell their slaves in bygone days. He endeavored to persuade
+himself that what he was doing was for the best, and certainly that it
+was forced upon him. He would not admit that his mania for poker was the
+main factor in his acceptance of Lablache's terms. Gradually, however,
+his thoughts became intolerable to him, and when Jacky at last remarked
+on the fact that he was eating nothing and drinking only his coffee, he
+could stand it no longer. He pushed his chair back and rose from the
+table, and, muttering an excuse, fled from the room.
+
+Her uncle's precipitate flight alarmed Jacky. She had seen, as anybody
+with half an eye could see, that he had had a heavy night. The bleared
+eyes, the puffed lids, the working, nervous face were simple enough
+evidence. She knew, too, that he had already been drinking this morning.
+But these things were not new to her, only painful facts which she was
+unable to alter; but his strange behavior and lack of appetite were
+things to set her thinking.
+
+She was a very active-minded girl. It was not her way to sit wondering
+and puzzling over anything she could not understand. She had a knack of
+setting herself to unravel problems which required explanation in the
+most common-sense way. After giving her uncle time to leave the
+house--intuition told her that he would do so--she rose and rang the
+bell. Then she moved to the window while she waited for an answer to her
+summons. She saw the burly figure of her uncle walking swiftly down
+towards the settlement and in the direction of the saloon.
+
+She turned with a sigh as a servant entered.
+
+"Did any one call last night while I was out?" she asked.
+
+"Not for you, miss."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"No, miss, but Mr. Lablache was here. He was with your uncle for a long
+time--in the office."
+
+"Did he come in with Mr. Allandale?"
+
+"Oh, no, miss, the master didn't go out. At least not that I know of.
+Mr. Lablache didn't call exactly. I think he just came straight to the
+office. I shouldn't have known he was there, only I was passing the door
+and heard his voice--and the master's."
+
+"Oh, that will do--just wait a moment, though. Say, is Silas around?
+Just find him and send him right along. Tell him to come to the
+veranda."
+
+The servant departed, and Jacky sat down at a writing-table and wrote a
+note to "Lord" Bill. The note was brief but direct in its tone.
+
+"Can you see me this afternoon? Shall be in after tea."
+
+That was all she put, and added her strong, bold signature to it. Silas
+came to the window and she gave him the note with instructions to
+deliver it into the hands of the Hon. Bunning-Ford.
+
+The letter dispatched she felt easier in her mind.
+
+What had Lablache been closeted with her uncle for? This was the
+question which puzzled--nay, alarmed her. She had seen her uncle early
+on the previous evening, and he had seemed happy enough. She wished now,
+when she had returned from visiting Mrs. Abbot, that she had thought to
+see if her uncle was in. It had become such a custom for him lately to
+be out all the evening that she had long ceased her childhood's custom
+of saying "Good-night" to him before retiring to bed. One thing was
+certain, she felt her uncle's strange behavior this morning was in some
+way due to Lablache's visit. She meant to find out what that visit
+meant.
+
+To this end several plans occurred to her, but in each case were
+abandoned as unsuitable.
+
+"No," she murmured at last, "I guess I'll tax him with it. He'll tell
+me. If Lablache means war, well--I've a notion he'll get a hustling he
+don't consider."
+
+Then she left the sitting-room that she might set about her day's work.
+She would see her uncle at dinner-time.
+
+Foss River had not yet risen to the civilized state of late dinners and
+indigestion. Early rising and hard work demanded early meals and hearty
+feeding. Dinner generally occurred at noon--an hour at which European
+society thinks of taking its _dejeuner_. By rising late society can thus
+avoid what little fresh, wholesome air there is to be obtained in a
+large city. Civilization jibs at early rising. Foss River was still a
+wild and savage country.
+
+At noon Jacky came in to dinner. She had not seen her uncle since
+breakfast. The old man had not returned from the settlement. Truth to
+tell he wished to avoid his niece as much as possible for to-day. As
+dinner-time came round he grew nervous and uncomfortable, and was half
+inclined to accept "old man" Smith's invitation to dine at the saloon.
+Then he realized that this would only alarm Jacky and set her thinking.
+Therefore he plucked up the shattered remains of his moral courage and
+returned to the ranch. When a man looses his last grip on his
+self-respect he sinks with cruel rapidity. "Poker" John told himself
+that he was betraying his niece's affection, and with this assurance he
+told himself that he was the lowest-down cur in the country. The natural
+consequence to a man of his habit and propensity was--drink. The one
+time in his life when he should have refrained from indulgence he drank;
+and with each drink he made the fatal promise to himself that it should
+be the last.
+
+When Jacky saw him swaying as he came up towards the house she could
+have cried out in very anguish. It smote her to the heart to see the old
+man whom she so loved in this condition. Yet when he lurched on to the
+veranda she smiled lovingly up into his face and gave no sign that she
+had any knowledge of his state.
+
+"Come right along, uncle," she said gayly, linking her arm within his,
+"dinner is on. You must be good and hungry, you made such a poor
+breakfast this morning."
+
+"Yes, child, I wasn't very well," he mumbled thickly. "Not very
+well--now."
+
+"You poor dear, come along," and she led him in through the open window.
+
+During the meal Jacky talked incessantly. She talked of everything but
+what had upset her uncle. She avoided any reference to Lablache with
+great care. But, in spite of her cheerfulness, she could not rouse the
+degenerate old man. Rather it seemed that, as the meal progressed, he
+became gloomier. The truth was the girl's apparent light-heartedness
+added to his self-revilings and made him feel more criminal than ever.
+He ate his food mechanically, and he drank glass after glass of ale.
+
+Jacky heaved a sigh of relief when the meal was over. She felt that she
+could not much longer have kept up her light-hearted talk. Her uncle was
+about to move from the table. The girl stayed him with a gesture. He had
+eaten a good dinner and she was satisfied. Now she would question him.
+
+It is strange how a woman, in whatever relationship she may stand, loves
+to see a man eat well. Possibly she understands the effect of a good
+dinner upon the man in whom she centers her affection; possibly it is
+the natural maternal instinct for his well-being.
+
+"Uncle, what did Lablache come to see you for last night?"
+
+The question was abrupt. It had the effect of bringing the rancher back
+to his seat with a drunken lurch.
+
+"Eh?" he queried, blinking nervously.
+
+"What did he come for?" Jacky persisted.
+
+The girl could be relentless even with her uncle.
+
+"Lablache--oh--er--talk bus--bus'ness, child--bus'ness," and he
+attempted to get up from his chair again.
+
+But Jacky would not let him go.
+
+"Wait a moment, uncle dear, I want to talk to you. I sha'n't keep you
+long." The old man looked anywhere but at his companion. A cold sweat
+was on his forehead, and his cheek twitched painfully under the steady
+gaze of the girl's somber eyes. "I don't often get a chance of talking
+to you now," she went on, with a slight touch of bitterness. "I just
+want to talk about that skunk, Lablache. I guess he didn't pass the
+evening talking of Retief--and what he intends to do towards his
+capture? Say, uncle, what was it about?"
+
+The old man grasped at the suggestion.
+
+"Yes--yes, child. It was Retief."
+
+He kept his eyes averted. The girl was not deceived.
+
+"All the time?"
+
+"Poker" John remained silent. He would have lied but could not.
+
+"Uncle!"
+
+Her tone was a moral pressure. The old man turned for relief to his
+avuncular authority.
+
+"I must go. You've no right--question me," he stuttered. "I refu--"
+
+"No, uncle, you won't refuse me." The girl had risen and had moved round
+to where the old man sat. She fondled him lovingly and his attempt at
+angry protest died within him. "Come, dear, tell me all about it. You
+are worried and I can help you. What did he threaten you with? I
+suppose he wants money," contemptuously. "How much?"
+
+The old drunkard was powerless to resist her loving appeal.
+
+He was cornered. Another might have lied and so escaped, but John
+Allandale's weakness was such that he had not the courage to resort to
+subterfuge. Moreover, there was a faint spark of honor nickering deep
+down in his kindly heart. The girl's affectionate display was surely
+fanning that spark into a flame. Would the flame grow or would it
+sparkle up for one brief moment and then go out from pure lack of fuel?
+Suddenly something of the truth of the cause of her uncle's distress
+flashed across Jacky's mind. She knew Lablache's wishes in regard to
+herself. Perhaps she was the subject of that interview.
+
+"Uncle, it is I who am causing you this trouble. What is it that
+Lablache wants of me?" She asked the question with her cheek pressed to
+the old man's face. His whisky-laden breath reeked in her nostrils.
+
+Her question took him unawares, and he started up pushing her from him.
+
+"Who--who told you, girl?" His bleared eyes were now turned upon her,
+and they gazed fearfully into hers.
+
+"I thought so," she exclaimed, smiling back into the troubled face. "No
+one told me, uncle, I guess that beast wants to marry me. Say, uncle,
+you can tell me everything right here. I'll help you. He's smart, but he
+can't mate with me."
+
+"But--but--" He struggled to collect his thoughts.
+
+"No 'buts,' dear. I've refused Lablache once. I guess I can size up the
+racket he thinks to play. Money--money! He'd like to buy me, I take it.
+Say, uncle, can't we frolic him some? Now--what did he say?"
+
+"I--can't tell you, child," the old man protested desperately. Then he
+weakened further before those deep, steadfast eyes. "Don't--press me.
+Don'--press me." His voice contained maudlin tears. "I'm a vill'n,
+girl. I'm worse. Don'--look a' me--like that.
+Ja'y--Ja'y--I've--sol'--you!"
+
+The miserable old man flung himself back in his chair and his head bowed
+until his chin sank heavily upon his chest. Two great tears welled into
+his bloodshot eyes and trickled slowly down his seared old cheeks. It
+was a pitiable sight. Jacky looked on silently for a moment. Her eyes
+took in every detail of that picture of despair. She had heard the old
+man's words but took no heed of them. She was thinking very hard.
+Suddenly she seemed to arrive at a decision. Her laugh rang out, and she
+came and knelt at her uncle's side.
+
+"So you've sold me, you old dear, and not a bad thing too. What's the
+price?"
+
+Her uncle raised his bowed head. Her smiling face dried his tears and
+put fresh heart into him. He had expected bitter invective, but instead
+the girl smiled.
+
+Jacky's task now became a simple one. A mere matter of pumping. Sharp
+questions and rambling replies. Bit by bit she learned the story of
+Lablache's proposal and the manner in which an acceptance had been
+forced upon her uncle. She did not relinquish her task until the
+minutest detail had been gleaned. At last she was satisfied with her
+cross-examination.
+
+She rose to her feet and passed her hand with a caressing movement over
+her uncle's head, gazing the while out of the window. Her mind was made
+up. Her uncle needed her help now. That help should be his. She condoned
+his faults; she saw nothing but that which was lovable in his weakness.
+Hers was now the strength to protect him, who, in the days of his best
+manhood had sheltered her from the cruel struggles of a life in the
+half-breed camp, for such, at the death of her impecunious father, must
+otherwise have been her lot.
+
+Now she looked down into that worn, old face, and her brisk,
+business-like tones roused him into new life.
+
+"Uncle, you must meet Lablache and play--the game. For the rest, leave
+it to me. All I ask is--no more whisky to-day. Stay right here and have
+a sleep. Guess you might go an' lie down. I'll call you for supper. Then
+you'll be fit. One thing you must remember; watch that ugly-faced cur
+when you play. See he don't cheat any. I'll tell you more before you
+start out. Come right along now and have that sleep."
+
+The old man got up and the girl led him from the room. She saw him to
+his bedroom and then left him. She decided that, for herself, she would
+not leave the house until she had seen Bill. She must get her uncle
+sober before he went to meet Lablache.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+IN WHICH MATTERS REACH A CLIMAX
+
+
+Foss River Settlement was, at the time, a very small place, and of
+practically no importance. It was brought into existence by the
+neighborhood of one or two large ranches; these ranches employed
+considerable labor. Foss River might be visited by an earthquake, and,
+provided the earthquake was not felt elsewhere, the world would not be
+likely to hear of it for weeks. The newspapers of the Western cities
+were in their infancy, and contented themselves with the news of their
+own towns and feverish criticisms of politics which were beyond the
+understanding of their editors. Progress in the West was very
+slow--almost at a standstill.
+
+After the death of Horrocks the police had withdrawn to report and to
+receive augmentation. No one felt alarm at their absence. The
+inhabitants of Foss River were a self-reliant people--accustomed to look
+to themselves for the remedy of a grievance. Besides, Horrocks, they
+said, had shown himself to be a duffer--merely a tracker, a prairie-man
+and not the man to bring Retief to justice. Already the younger members
+of the settlement and district were forming themselves into a vigilance
+committee. The elders--those to whom the younger looked for a lead in
+such matters--had chosen to go to the police; now the younger of the
+settlement decided to act for themselves.
+
+This was the condition and feeling in Foss River at the time of the
+death of Horrocks; this was the state of affairs when the _insouciant_
+Bill leisurely strolled into the sitting-room at the Foss River Ranch,
+about the time that Joaquina Allandale had finished her tea. With the
+familiarity of the West, Bill entered by the French window. His lazy
+smile was undisturbed. He might have been paying an ordinary call
+instead of answering a summons which he knew must be a matter of
+emergency, for it was understood between these two that private meetings
+were tabooed, except when necessity demanded them.
+
+Jacky's greeting was not reassuring, but her lover's expression remained
+unchanged, except that his weary eyelids further unclosed.
+
+"Guess we're side-tracked, Bill," she said meaningly. "The line's
+blocked. Signals dead against us."
+
+Bill looked into her eyes; then he turned and closed the window,
+latching it securely. The door was closed. His keen eyes noted this.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+The girl shrugged.
+
+"The next twelve hours must finish our game."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes," the girl went on, "it is Lablache's doing. We must settle our
+reckoning with him to-night."
+
+Bill flung himself into a chair.
+
+"Will you explain?--I don't understand. May I smoke?"
+
+Jacky smiled. The request was so unnecessary. She always liked Bill's
+nonchalance. It conveyed such a suggestion of latent power.
+
+"Yes, smoke, Bill; smoke and get your thinking box in order. My yarn
+won't take a deal of time to tell. But it'll take a deal of thought to
+upset Lablache's last move, without--shootin'."
+
+"Um--shooting's an evil, but sometimes--necessary. What's his racket?"
+
+The girl told her story quickly. She forgot nothing. She never allowed
+herself to fall into the womanly mistake of omitting details, however
+small.
+
+Bill fully appreciated her cleverness in this direction. He could trust
+what she said implicitly. At the conclusion of the story he sat up and
+rolled another cigarette.
+
+"And your uncle is upstairs in bed?"
+
+"Yes, when he wakes I guess he'll need a bracer. He'll be sober. He must
+play. Lablache means to win."
+
+"Yes, he means to win. He has had a bad scare."
+
+"What are we going to do?"
+
+The girl eyed her lover keenly. She saw by his manner that he was
+thinking rapidly.
+
+"The game must be interrupted--with another scare."
+
+"What?"
+
+Bill shrugged and laughed.
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Burn him out--his store. And then--"
+
+"And then?" eagerly.
+
+"Retief will be present at the game. Tell him what has happened and--if
+he doesn't leave Foss River--shoot him. Mortgages and all records of
+debts, etc., are in his store."
+
+"Good."
+
+After expressing her approval the girl sat gazing into her lover's face.
+They talked a little longer, then Bill rose to go.
+
+"Eleven o'clock to-night you say is the appointed hour?"
+
+"Yes. I shall meet you at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture."
+
+"Better not."
+
+"Yes, I am going to be there," with a decisive nod. "One cannot be sure.
+You may need me."
+
+"Very well. Good-by, little woman." "Lord" Bill bent and kissed her.
+Then something very like a sigh escaped him. "I think with you this game
+is nearly up. To-night will settle things one way or the other."
+
+"Yes. Trouble is not far off. Say, Bill, when it comes, I want to be
+with you."
+
+Bill looked tenderly down into the upturned face.
+
+"Is that why you insist on coming to-night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Another embrace and Bill left the house.
+
+He sauntered leisurely down the avenue of pines. He kept straight on
+towards the muskeg. Then he turned away from the settlement, and was
+soon lost behind the rising ground which shored the great mire. Once out
+of sight of the house he quickened his pace, gradually swinging away
+from the keg, and heading towards the half-breed camp.
+
+Foss River might have been deserted for all signs of life he
+encountered. The prairie was calmly silent. Not even the call of the
+birds broke the stillness around. The heat of the afternoon had lulled
+all nature to repose.
+
+He strode on swiftly until he came to a small bluff. Here he halted and
+threw himself full length upon the ground in a welcome shade. He was
+within sight of the half-breed camp. He shifted his position until his
+head was in the sun. In this way he could see the scattered dwellings of
+the prairie outcasts. Then he drew a small piece of looking-glass from
+his pocket and held it out in the sun. Turning and twisting it in the
+direction of the camp, as might a child who wishes to dazzle a
+play-fellow's eyes. For several minutes he thus manipulated his
+impromptu heliograph. Then, as he suddenly beheld an answering flash in
+the distance, he desisted, and returned the glass to his pocket. Now he
+drew back in the shade and composed himself to smoke.
+
+The half-closed eyes of the recumbent man gazed steadily out towards the
+camp. He had nearly finished his third cigarette when his quick ears
+caught the sound of footsteps. Instantly he sat up. The steps grew
+louder and then round the sheltering bush came the thick-set form of
+Gautier. He was accompanied by an evil-looking dog which growled sulkily
+as it espied the white man.
+
+"Ugh! Hot walkin'," said the newcomer, by way of greeting.
+
+"Not so hot as it'll be to-night," said the white man, quietly. "Sit
+down."
+
+"More bonfires, boss?" said the half-breed, with a meaning grin, seating
+himself as he spoke.
+
+"More bonfires. See you, I want six of the boys at Lablache's store
+to-night at eleven o'clock. We are going to burn his place. It will be
+quite easy. Lablache will be away, and only his clerks on the premises.
+The cellar underneath the building is lit by barred windows, two under
+the front, and two under the office at the back. All you have to do is
+to break the glass of the window at the back and pour in a couple of
+gallons of coal oil. Then push in some straw, and then light a piece of
+oil-soaked rope and drop it in. The cellar is full of cases of goods and
+barrels of oil. The fire will be unextinguishable. Directly it is well
+lit see that the clerks are warned. We want no lives lost. You
+understand? The stables are adjacent and will catch fire too. I sha'n't
+be there until later. There will be no risk and lots of loot. Savee?"
+
+The cunning face of the half-breed was lit by an unholy grin. He rubbed
+his hands with the unctuous anticipation of a shop-walker. Truly, he
+thought, this white man was a man after his own heart. He wagged his
+head in approval.
+
+"Easy--easy? It is childlike," he said in ecstasy. "I have long thought
+of it, sure. An' thar is a big store of whisky thar, eh, boss?
+Good--good! And what time will you come?"
+
+"When the fire is lit. I go to deal with Lablache. Look you here,
+Gautier, you owe that man a grudge. You would kill him but you don't
+dare. I may pay off that grudge for you. Pay it by a means that is
+better than killing."
+
+"Torture," grinned the half-breed.
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Now see and be off. And don't make any mistake, or we may all swing for
+it. Tell Baptiste he must go over the keg at once and bring Golden Eagle
+to my shack at about half-past ten. Tell him to be punctual. Now scoot.
+No mistakes, or--" and Bill made a significant gesture.
+
+The man understood and hurried away. "Lord" Bill was satisfied that his
+orders would be carried out to the letter. The service he demanded of
+this man was congenial service, in so far that it promised loot in
+plenty and easily acquired. Moreover, the criminal side of the
+half-breed's nature was tickled. A liberal reward for honesty would be
+less likely to secure good service from such as Gautier than a chance of
+gain for shady work. It was the half-breed nature.
+
+After the departure of the half-breed, Bill remained where he was for
+some time. He sat with his hands clasped round his knees, gazing
+thoughtfully out towards the camp. He was reviewing his forces and
+mentally struggling to penetrate the pall which obscured the future. He
+felt himself to be playing a winning game; at least, that his vengeance
+and chastisement of Lablache had been made ridiculously easy for him.
+But now he had come to that point when he wondered what must be the
+outcome of it all as regarded himself and the girl he loved. Would his
+persecution drive Lablache from Foss River to the security of Calford,
+Where he would be able to follow him and still further prosecute his
+inexorable vengeance? Or would he still choose to remain? He knew
+Lablache to be a strong man, but he also knew, by the money-lender's
+sudden determination to force Jacky into marriage with him, that he had
+received a scare. He could not decide on the point. But he inclined to
+the belief that Lablache must go after to-night. He would not spare him.
+He had yet a trump card to play. He would be present at the game of
+cards, and--well, time would show.
+
+He threw away his mangled cigarette end and rose from the ground. One
+glance of his keen eyes told him that no one was in sight. He strolled
+out upon the prairie and made his way back to the settlement. He need
+not have troubled himself about the future. The future would work itself
+out, and no effort of his would be capable of directing its course. A
+higher power than man's was governing the actions of the participants in
+the Foss River drama.
+
+For the rest of the day "Lord" Bill moved about the settlement in his
+customary idle fashion. He visited the saloon; he showed himself on the
+market-place. He discussed the doings of Retief with the butcher, the
+smith, Dr. Abbot. And, as the evening closed in and the sun's power
+lessened, he identified himself with others as idle as himself, and
+basked in the warmth of its feeble, dying rays.
+
+When darkness closed in he went to his shack and prepared his evening
+meal with a simple directness which no thoughts of coming events could
+upset. Bill was always philosophical. He ate to live, and consequently
+was not particular about his food. He passed the evening between thought
+and tobacco, and only an occasional flashing of his lazy eyes gave any
+sign of the trend of his mental effort.
+
+At a few minutes past ten he went into his bedroom and carefully locked
+the door. Then he drew from beneath his bed a small chest; it was an
+ammunition chest of very powerful make. The small sliding lid was
+securely padlocked. This he opened and drew from within several articles
+of apparel and a small cardboard box.
+
+Next he divested himself of his own tweed clothes and donned the things
+he had taken from the box. These consisted of a pair of moleskin
+trousers, a pair of chaps, a buckskin shirt and a battered Stetson hat.
+From the cardboard box he took out a tin of greasy-looking stuff and a
+long black wig made of horse hair. Stepping to a glass he smeared his
+face with the grease, covering his own white flesh carefully right down
+to the chest and shoulders, also his hands. It was a brownish ocher and
+turned his skin to the copperish hue of the Indian. The wig was
+carefully adjusted and secured by sprigs to his own fair hair. This,
+with the hat well jammed down upon his head, completed the
+transformation, and out from the looking-glass peered the strong, eagle
+face of the redoubtable half-breed, Retief.
+
+He then filled the chest with his own clothes and relocked it. Suddenly
+his quick ear caught the sound of some one approaching. He looked at his
+watch; it wanted two minutes to half-past ten. He waited.
+
+Presently he heard the rattle of a stick down the featheredged boarding
+of the outer walls of the hut. He picked up his revolver belt and
+secured it about his waist, and then, putting out the light, unlocked
+the back door which opened out of his bedroom.
+
+A horse was standing outside, and a man held the bridle reins looped
+upon his arm.
+
+"That you, Baptiste?"
+
+"Yup."
+
+"Good, you are punctual."
+
+"It's as well."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I go to join the boys," the half-breed said slowly. "And you?"
+
+"I--oh, I go to settle a last account with Lablache," replied Bill, with
+a mirthless laugh.
+
+"Where?"
+
+Bill looked sharply at the man. He understood the native distrust of the
+Breed. Then he nodded vaguely in the direction of the Foss River Ranch.
+
+"Yonder. In old John's fifty-acre pasture. Lablache and John meet at the
+tool-shed there to-night. Why?"
+
+"And you go not to the fire?" Baptiste's voice had a surprised ring in
+it.
+
+"Not until later. I must be at the meeting soon after eleven."
+
+The half-breed was silent for a minute. He seemed to be calculating. At
+length he spoke. His words conveyed resolve.
+
+"It is good. Guess you may need assistance. I'll be there--and some of
+the boys. We ain't goin' ter interfere--if things goes smooth."
+
+Bill shrugged.
+
+"You need not come."
+
+"No? Nuthin' more?"
+
+"Nothing. Keep the boys steady. Don't burn the clerks in the store."
+
+"No."
+
+"S'long."
+
+"S'long."
+
+"Lord" Bill vaulted into the saddle, and Golden Eagle moved restively
+away.
+
+It was as well that Foss River was a sleepy place. "Lord" Bill's
+precautions were not elaborate. But then he knew the ways of the
+settlement.
+
+Dr. Abbot chanced to be standing in the doorway of the saloon. Bill's
+shack was little more than a hundred yards away. The doctor was about to
+step across to see if he were in, for the purpose of luring his friend
+into a game. Poker was not so plentiful with the doctor now since Bill
+had dropped out of Lablache's set.
+
+He saw the dim outline of a horseman moving away from the back of "Lord"
+Bill's hut. His curiosity was aroused. He hastened across to the shack.
+He found it locked up, and in darkness. He turned away wondering. And as
+he turned away he found himself almost face to face with Baptiste. The
+doctor knew the man.
+
+"Evening, Baptiste."
+
+"Evening," the man growled.
+
+The doctor was about to speak again but the man hurried away.
+
+"Damned funny," the medical man muttered. Then he moved off towards his
+own home. Somehow he had forgotten his wish for poker.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE LAST GAMBLE
+
+
+The fifty-acre pasture was situated nearly a quarter of a mile away to
+the left of John Allandale's house. Then, too, the whole length of it
+must be crossed before the implement shed be reached. This would add
+another half a mile to the distance, for the field was long and narrow,
+skirting as it did the hay slough which provided the ranch with hay. The
+pasture was on the sloping side of the slough, and on the top of the
+ridge stretched a natural fence of pines nearly two miles in extent.
+
+The shed was erected for the accommodation of mowers, horse-rakes, and
+the necessary appurtenances for haying. At one end, as Lablache had
+said, was a living-room. It was called so by courtesy. It was little
+better than the rest of the building, except that there was a crazy door
+to it--also a window; a rusty iron stove, small, and--when a fire burned
+in it--fierce, was crowded into a corner. Now, however, the stove was
+dismantled, and lengths of stove pipe were littered about the floor
+around it. A rough bed, supported on trestles, and innocent of bedding,
+filled one end of this abode; a table made of packing cases, and two
+chairs of the Windsor type, one fairly sound and the other minus a back,
+completed the total of rude furniture necessary for a "hired man's"
+requirements.
+
+A living-room, the money-lender had said, therefore we must accept his
+statement.
+
+A reddish, yellow light from a dingy oil lamp glowed sullenly, and added
+to the cheerlessness of the apartment. At intervals black smoke belched
+from the chimney top of the lamp in response to the draughts which blew
+through the sieve-like boarding of the shed. One must feel sorry for
+the hired man whose lot is cast in such cheerless quarters.
+
+It was past eleven. Lablache and John Allandale were seated at the
+table. The lurid light did not improve the expression of their faces.
+
+"Poker" John was eager--keenly eager now that Jacky had urged him to the
+game. Moreover, he was sober--sober as the proverbial "judge." Also he
+was suspicious of his opponent. Jacky had warned him. He looked very old
+as he sat at that table. His senility appeared in every line of his
+face; in every movement of his shaking hands; in every glance of his
+bleared eyes.
+
+Lablache, also, was changed slightly, but it was not in the direction of
+age; he showed signs of elation, triumph. He felt that he was about to
+accomplish the object which had long been his, and, at the same time,
+outwit the half-breed who had so lately come into his life, with such
+disastrous results to his, the money-lender's, peaceful enjoyment of his
+ill-gotten wealth.
+
+Lablache turned his lashless eyes in the direction of the window. It was
+a square aperture of about two feet in extent.
+
+"We are not likely to be interrupted," he said wheezily, "but it never
+does to chance anything. Shall we cover the window? A light in this room
+is unusual--"
+
+"Yes, let us cover it." "Poker" John chafed at the delay. "No one is
+likely to come this way, though."
+
+Lablache looked about for something which would answer his purpose.
+There was nothing handy. He drew out his great bandanna and tried it. It
+exactly covered the window. So he secured it. It would serve to darken
+the light to any one who might chance to be within sight of the shed. He
+returned to his seat. He bulged over it as he sat down, and its legs
+creaked ominously.
+
+"I have brought three packs of cards," he said, laying them upon the
+table.
+
+"So have I."
+
+"Poker" John looked directly into the other's bilious eyes.
+
+"Ah--then we have six packs."
+
+"Yes--six."
+
+"Whose shall we--" Lablache began.
+
+"We'll cut for it. Ace low. Low wins."
+
+The money-lender smiled at the rancher's eagerness. The two men cut in
+silence. Lablache cut a "three"; "Poker" John, a "queen."
+
+"We will use your cards, John." The money-lender's face expressed an
+unctuous benignity.
+
+The rancher was surprised, and his tell-tale cheek twitched
+uncomfortably.
+
+"For deal," said Lablache, stripping one of John's packs and passing it
+to his companion. The rancher shuffled and cut--Lablache cut. The deal
+went to the latter.
+
+"We want something to score on," the money-lender said. "My memorandum
+pad--"
+
+"We'll have nothing on the table, please." John had been warned.
+
+Lablache shrugged and smiled. He seemed to imply that the precaution was
+unnecessary. "Poker" John was in desperate earnest.
+
+"A piece of chalk--on the wall." The rancher produced the chalk and set
+it on the floor close by the wall and returned to his seat.
+
+Lablache shuffled clumsily. His fingers seemed too gross to handle
+cards. And yet he could shuffle well, and his fingers were, in reality,
+most sensitive. John Allandale looked on eagerly. The money-lender,
+contrary to his custom, dealt swiftly--so swiftly that the bleared eyes
+of his opponent could not follow his movements.
+
+Both men picked up their cards. The old instincts of poker were not so
+pronounced in the rancher as they used to be. Doubtless the game he was
+now playing did not need such mask-like impassivity of expression as an
+ordinary game would. After all, the pot opened, it merely became a
+question of who held the best hand. There would be no betting. John's
+eyes lighted up as he glanced at the index numerals. He held two
+"Jacks."
+
+"Can you?" Lablache's husky voice rasped in the stillness.
+
+"Yes."
+
+The dealer eyed his opponent for a second. His face was that of a graven
+image.
+
+"How many?"
+
+"Three."
+
+The money-lender passed three cards across the table. Then he discarded
+two cards from his own hand and drew two more.
+
+"What have you got?" he asked, with a grim pursing of his sagging lips.
+
+"Two pairs. Jacks up."
+
+Lablache laid his own cards on the table, spreading them out face
+upwards for the rancher to see. He held three "twos."
+
+"One to you," said John Allandale; and he went and chalked the score
+upon the wall.
+
+There was something very business-like about these two men when they
+played cards. And possibly it was only natural. The quiet way in which
+they played implied the deadly earnestness of their game. Their
+surroundings, too, were impressive when associated with the secrecy of
+their doings.
+
+Each man meant to win, and in both were all the baser passions fully
+aroused. Neither would spare the other, each would do his utmost.
+Lablache was sure. John was consumed with a deadly nervousness. But John
+Allandale at cards was the soul of honor. Lablache was confident in his
+superior manipulation--not play--of cards. He knew that, bar accidents,
+he must win. The mystery of being able to deal himself "three of a kind"
+and even better was no mystery to him. He preferred his usual
+method--the method of "reflection," as he called it; but in the game he
+was now playing such a method would be useless for obvious reasons.
+First of all, knowing his opponent's cards would only be of advantage
+where betting was to ensue. Now he needed the clumsier, if more sure,
+method of dealing himself a hand. And he did not hesitate to adopt it.
+
+"Poker" John dealt The pot was not opened. Lablache again dealt. Still
+the hand passed without the pot being opened. The next time John dealt
+Lablache opened the pot and was promptly beaten. He drew to two queens
+and missed. John drew to a pair of sevens and got a third. The game was
+one all. After this Lablache won three pots in succession and the game
+stood four--one, in favor of the money-lender.
+
+The old rancher's face more than indicated the state of the game. His
+features were gray and drawn. Already he saw his girl married to the man
+opposite to him. For an instant his weakness led him to think of
+refusing to play further--to defy Lablache and bid him do his worst.
+Then he remembered that the girl herself had insisted that he must see
+the game through--besides, he might yet win. He forced his thoughts to
+the coming hand. He was to deal.
+
+The deal, as far as he was concerned, was successful, His spirits rose.
+
+Four--two.
+
+Lablache took up the cards to deal. John was watching as though his life
+depended upon what he saw. Lablache's clumsy shuffle annoyed him. The
+lashless eyes of the money-lender were bent upon the cards, but he had
+no difficulty in observing the old man's attention. This unusual
+attention he set down to a natural excitement. He had not the smallest
+idea that the old man suspected him. He passed the cards to be cut. The
+rancher cut them carelessly. He had a natural cut. The pack was nearly
+halved. Lablache had prepared for this.
+
+The hand was dealt, and the money-lender won with three aces, all of
+which he had drawn in a five-card draw. He had discarded a pair of nines
+to make the heavy draw. It was clumsy, but he had been forced to it. The
+position of the aces in the pack he had known, and--well, he meant to
+win.
+
+Five--two.
+
+The clumsiness of that deal was too palpable. Old John suspected, but
+held his tongue. His anger rose, and the drawn face flushed with the
+suddenness of lightning. He was in a dangerous mood. Lablache saw the
+flush, and a sudden fear gripped his heart. He passed the cards to the
+other, and then, involuntarily, his hand dropped into the right-hand
+pocket of his coat. It came in contact with his revolver--and stayed
+there.
+
+The next hand passed without the pot being opened--and the next.
+Lablache was a little cautious. The next deal resulted in favor of the
+rancher.
+
+Five--three.
+
+Lablache again took the cards. This time he meant to get his hand in the
+deal. At that moment the money-lender would have given a cool thousand
+had a bottle of whisky been on the table. He had not calculated on John
+being sober. He shuffled deliberately and offered the pack to be cut.
+John cut in the same careless manner, but this time he did it purposely.
+Lablache picked up the bottom half of the cut. There was a terrible
+silence in the room, and a deadly purpose was expressed in "Poker"
+John's eyes.
+
+The money-lender began to deal. In an instant John was on his feet and
+lurched across the table. His hand fell upon the first card which
+Lablache had dealt to himself.
+
+"The ace of clubs," shouted the rancher, his eyes blazing and his body
+fairly shaking with fury. He turned the card over. It was the ace of
+clubs.
+
+"Cheat!" he shouted.
+
+He had seen the card at the bottom of the pack as the other had ceased
+to shuffle.
+
+There was an instant's thrilling pause. Then Lablache's hand flew to
+his pocket. He had heard the click of a cocking revolver.
+
+For the moment the rancher's old spirit rose superior to his senile
+debility.
+
+"God in heaven! And this is how you've robbed me, you--you bastard!"
+
+"Poker" John's seared face was at that moment the face of a maniac. He
+literally hurled his fury at the money-lender, who was now standing
+confronting him.
+
+"It is the last time, if--if I swing for it. Prairie law you need, and,
+Hell take you, you shall have it!"
+
+He swung himself half round. Simultaneously two reports rang out. They
+seemed to meet in one deafening peal, which was exaggerated by the
+smallness of the room. Then all was silence.
+
+Lablache stood unmoved, his yellow eyeballs gleaming wickedly. For a
+second John Allandale swayed while his face assumed a ghastly hue. Then
+in deathly silence he slowly crumpled up, as it were. No sound passed
+his lips and he sank in a heap upon the floor. His still smoking pistol
+dropped beside him from his nerveless fingers.
+
+The rancher had intended to kill Lablache, but the subtle money-lender
+had been too quick. The lashless eyes watched the deathly fall of the
+old man. There was no expression in them but that of vengeful coldness.
+He was accustomed to the unwritten laws of the prairie. He knew that he
+had saved his life by a hair's-breadth. His right hand was still in his
+coat pocket. He had fired through the cloth of the coat.
+
+Some seconds passed. Still Lablache did not move. There was no remorse
+in his heart--only annoyance. He was thinking with the coolness of a
+callous nerve. He was swiftly calculating the effect of the catastrophe
+as regarded himself. It was the worst thing that could have happened to
+him. Shooting was held lightly on the prairie, he knew, but--Then he
+slowly drew his pistol from his pocket and looked thoughtfully at it.
+His caution warned him of something. He withdrew the empty cartridge
+case and cleaned out the barrel. Then he put a fresh cartridge in the
+chamber and returned the pistol to his pocket. He was very deliberate,
+and displayed no emotion. His asthmatical breathing, perhaps, might have
+been more pronounced than usual. Then he gathered up the cards from
+floor and table, and wiped out the score upon the wall. He put the cards
+in his pocket. After that he stirred the body of his old companion with
+his foot. There was no sound from the prostrate rancher. Then the
+money-lender gently lowered himself to his knees and placed his hand
+over his victim's heart. It was still. John Allandale was dead.
+
+It was now for the first time that Lablache gave any sign of emotion. It
+was not the emotion of sorrow--merely fear--susperstitious fear. As he
+realized that the other was dead his head suddenly turned. It was an
+involuntary movement. And his fishy eyes gazed fearfully behind him. It
+was his first realization of guilt. The brand of Cain must inevitably
+carry with it a sense of horror to him who falls beneath its ban. He was
+a murderer--and he knew it.
+
+Now his-movements became less deliberate. He felt that he must get away
+from that horrid sight. He rose swiftly, with a display of that agility
+which the unfortunate Horrocks had seen. He glanced about the room and
+took his bearings. He strode to the lamp and put it out. Then he groped
+his way to the window and took down his bandanna; stealthily, and with a
+certain horror, he felt his way in the darkness to the door. He opened
+it and passed out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+SETTLING THE RECKONING
+
+
+Jacky stood at the gate of the fifty-acre pasture. She had been standing
+there for some minutes. The night was quite dark; there was no moon. Her
+horse, Nigger, was standing hitched to one of the fence posts a few
+yards away from her and inside the pasture. The girl was waiting for
+"Lord" Bill.
+
+Not a sound broke the stillness of the night as she stood listening. A
+wonderful calmness was over all. From her position Jacky had seen the
+light shining through the window of the implement shed. Now the shed was
+quite dark--the window had been covered. She knew that her uncle and
+Lablache were there. She was growing impatient.
+
+Every now and then she would turn her face from the contemplation of the
+blackness of the distant end of the field to the direction of the
+settlement, her ears straining to catch the sound of her dilatory
+lover's coming. The minutes passed all too swiftly. And her impatience
+grew and found vent in irritable movements and sighs of vexation.
+
+Suddenly her ears caught the sound of distant cries coming from the
+settlement. She turned in the direction. A lurid gleam was in the sky.
+Then, as she watched, the glare grew brighter, and sparks shot up in a
+great wreathing cloud of smoke. The direction was unmistakable. She knew
+that Lablache's store had been fired.
+
+"Good," she murmured, with a sigh of relief. "I guess Bill'll come right
+along now. I wish he'd come. They've been in that shack ten minutes or
+more. Why don't he come?"
+
+The glare of the fire fascinated her, and her eyes remained glued in the
+direction of it. The reflection in the sky was widespread and she knew
+that the great building must be gutted, for there was no means of
+putting the fire out. Then her thoughts turned to Lablache, and she
+smiled as she thought of the surprise awaiting him. The sky in the
+distance grew brighter. She could only see the lurid reflection; a
+rising ground intervened between her and the settlement.
+
+Suddenly against the very heart of the glare the figure of a horseman
+coming towards her was silhouetted as he rode over the rising ground.
+One glance sufficed the girl. That tall, thin figure was
+unmistakable--her lover was hastening towards her. She turned to her
+horse and unhitched the reins from the fence post.
+
+Presently Bill came up and dismounted. He led Golden Eagle through the
+gate. The greeting was an almost silent one between these two. Doubtless
+their thoughts carried them beyond mere greetings. They stood for a
+second.
+
+"Shall we ride?" said Jacky, inclining her head in the direction of the
+shed.
+
+"No, we will walk. How long have they been there?"
+
+"A quarter of an hour, I guess."
+
+"Come along, then."
+
+They walked down the pasture leading their two horses.
+
+"I see no light," said Bill, looking straight ahead of him.
+
+"It is covered--the window, I mean. What are you going to do, Bill?"
+
+The man laughed.
+
+"Lots--but I shall be guided by circumstances. You must remain outside,
+Jacky; you can see to the horses."
+
+"P'r'aps."
+
+The man turned sharply.
+
+"P'r'aps?"
+
+"Yes, one never knows. I guess it's no use fixing things when--guided by
+circumstances."
+
+They relapsed into silence and walked steadily on. Half the distance was
+covered when Jacky halted.
+
+"Will Golden Eagle stand 'knee-haltering,' Bill?"
+
+"Yes, why?"
+
+"We'll 'knee-halter' 'em."
+
+Bill stood irresolute.
+
+"It'll be better, I guess," the girl pursued. "We'll be freer."
+
+"All right," replied Bill. "But," after a pause, "I'd rather you didn't
+come further, little woman--there may be shooting--"
+
+"That's so. I like shootin'. What's that?"
+
+The girl had secured her horse, Bill was in the act of securing his.
+Jacky raised her hand in an attitude of attention and turned her face to
+windward. Bill stood erect and listened.
+
+"Ah!--it's the boys. Baptiste said they would come."
+
+There was a faint rustling of grass near by. Jacky's keen ears had
+detected the stealing sound at once. To others it might have passed for
+the effect of the night breeze.
+
+They listened for a few seconds longer, then Bill turned to the girl.
+
+"Come--the horses are safe. The boys will not show themselves. I fancy
+they are here to watch only--me."
+
+They continued on towards the shed. They were both wrapt in silent
+thought. Neither was prepared for what was to come. They were still
+nearly a quarter of a mile from the building. Its outline was dimly
+discernible in the darkness. And, too, now the light from the oil lamp
+could be seen dimly shining through the red bandanna which was stretched
+over the window.
+
+Now the sound of "Poker" John's voice raised in anger reached them. They
+stood still with one accord. It was astonishing how the voice traveled
+all that distance. He must be shouting. A sudden fear gripped their
+hearts. Bill was the first to move. With a whispered "Wait here," he ran
+forward. For an instant Jacky waited, then, on a sudden impulse, she
+followed her lover.
+
+The girl had just started. Suddenly the sharp report of firearms split
+the air. She came up with Bill, who had paused at the sound.
+
+"Hustle, Bill. It's murder," the girl panted.
+
+"Yes," and he ran forward with set face and gleaming eyes.
+
+Murder--and who was the victim? Bill wondered, and his heart misgave
+him. There was no longer any sound of voices. The rancher had been
+silenced. He thought of the girl behind him. Then his whole mind
+suddenly centered itself upon Lablache. If he had killed the rancher no
+mercy should be shown to him.
+
+Bill was rapidly nearing the building, and it was wrapped in an ominous
+silence.
+
+For a second he again came to a stand. He wanted to make sure. He could
+hear Jacky's speeding footfalls from behind. And he could hear the
+stealthy movements of those others. These were the only sounds that
+reached him. He-went on again. He came to the building. The window was
+directly in front of him. He tried to look into the room but the
+handkerchief effectually hid the interior. Suddenly the light went out.
+He knew what this meant. Turning away from the window he crept towards
+the door. Jacky had come up. He motioned her into the shadow. Then he
+waited.
+
+The door opened and a great figure came out. It was Lablache. Even in
+the darkness Bill recognized him. His heavy, asthmatical breathing must
+have betrayed the money-lender if there had been no other means of
+identification.
+
+Lablache stepped out on to the prairie utterly unconscious of the
+figures crouching in the darkness. He stepped heavily forward. Four
+steps--that was all. A silent spring--an iron grip round the
+money-lender's throat, from behind. A short, sharp struggle--a great
+gasping for breath. Then Lablache reeled backwards and fell to the
+ground with Bill hanging to his throat like some tiger. In the fall the
+money-lender's pistol went off. There was a sharp report, and the bullet
+tore up the ground. But no harm was done. Bill held on. Then came the
+swish of a skirt. Jacky was at her lover's side. She dragged the
+money-lender's pistol from his pocket. Then Bill let go his hold and
+stood panting over the prostrate man. The whole thing was done in
+silence. No word was spoken.
+
+Lablache sucked in a deep whistling breath. His eyes rolled and he
+struggled into a sitting posture. He was gazing into the muzzle of
+Bill's pistol.
+
+"Get up!" The stern voice was unlike Bill's, but there was nothing of
+the twang of Retief about it.
+
+The money-lender stared, but did not move--neither did he speak. Jacky
+had darted into the hut. She had gone to light the lamp and learn the
+truth.
+
+"Get up!" The chilling command forced the money-lender to rise. He saw
+before him the tall, thin figure of his assailant.
+
+"Retief!" he gasped, and then stood speechless.
+
+Now the re-lighted lamp glowed through the doorway. Bill pointed towards
+the door.
+
+"Go inside!" The relentless pistol was at Lablache's head.
+
+"No--no! Not inside." The words whistled on a gasping breath.
+
+"Go inside!"
+
+Cowed and fearful, Lablache obeyed the mandate.
+
+Bill followed the money-lender into the miserable room. His keen eyes
+took in the scene in one swift glance. He saw Jacky kneeling beside the
+prostrate form of her uncle. She was not weeping. Her beautiful face was
+stonily calm. She was just looking down at that still form, that drawn
+gray face, the staring eyes and dropped jaw. Bill saw and understood.
+Lablache might expect no mercy.
+
+The murderer himself was now looking in the direction of--but not
+at--the body of his victim. He was gazing with eyes which expressed
+horrified amazement at the sight of the crouching figure of Jacky
+Allandale. He was trying to fathom the meaning of her association with
+Retief.
+
+Bill closed the door. Now he came forward towards the table, always
+keeping Lablache in front of him.
+
+"Is he dead?" Bill's voice was solemn.
+
+Jacky looked up. There was a look as of stone in her somber eyes.
+
+"He is dead--dead."
+
+"Ah! For the moment we will leave the dead. Come, let us deal with the
+living. It is time for a final reckoning."
+
+There was a deadly chill in the tone of Bill's voice--a chill which was
+infinitely more dreadful to Lablache's ears than could any passionate
+outburst have been.
+
+The door opened gently. No one noticed it, so absorbed were they in the
+ghastly matter before them. Wider the door swung and several dusky faces
+appeared in the opening.
+
+The money-lender stood motionless. His gaze ignored the dead. He watched
+the living. He wondered what "Lord" Bill's preamble portended. He shook
+himself like one rousing from some dreadful nightmare. He summoned his
+courage and tried to face the consequences of his act with an outward
+calm. Struggle as he might a deadly fear was ever present.
+
+It was not the actual fear of death--it was the moral dread of something
+intangible. He feared at that moment not that which was to come. It was
+the presence of the dusky-visaged raider and--the girl. He feared mostly
+the icy look on Jacky's face. However, his mind was quite clear. He was
+watching for a loophole of escape. And he lost no detail of the scene
+before him.
+
+A matter which puzzled him greatly was the familiar voice of the raider.
+Retief, as he knew him, spoke with a pronounced accent, but now he only
+heard the ordinary tones of an Englishman.
+
+Bill had purposely abandoned his exaggerated Western drawl. Now he
+removed the scarf from his neck and proceeded to wipe the yellow grease
+from his face and neck. Lablache, with dismay in his heart, saw the
+white skin which had been concealed beneath the paint. The truth
+flashed upon him instantly. And before Bill had had time to remove his
+wig his name had passed the money-lender's lips.
+
+"Bunning-Ford?" he gasped. And in that expression was a world of moral
+fear.
+
+"Yes, Bunning-Ford, come to settle his last reckoning with you."
+
+Bill eyed the murderer steadily and Lablache felt his last grip on his
+courage relax. A terrible fear crept upon him as his courage ebbed.
+Slowly Bill turned his eyes in the direction of the still kneeling
+Jacky. The girl's eyes met his, and, in response to some mute
+understanding which passed between them, she rose to her feet.
+
+Bill did not speak. He merely looked at his pistol. Jacky spoke as if
+answering some remark of his.
+
+"Yes, this is my affair."
+
+Then she turned upon the money-lender. There was no wrath in her face,
+no anger in her tones; only that horrid, stony purpose which Lablache
+dreaded. He wished she would hurl invective at him. He felt that it
+would have been better so.
+
+"The death which you have dealt to that poor old man is too good for
+you--murderer," she said, her deep, somber eyes seeming to pass through
+and through the mountain of flesh she was addressing. "I take small
+comfort in the thought that he had no time to suffer bodily pain. You
+will suffer--later." Bill gazed at her wonderingly. "Liar!--cheat!--you
+pollute the earth. You thought to cozen that poor, harmless old man out
+of his property--out of me. You thought to ruin him as you have ruined
+others. Your efforts will avail you nothing. From the moment Bill
+discovered the use of your memorandum pad"--Lablache started--"your fate
+was sealed. We swore to confiscate your property. For every dollar you
+took from us you should pay ten. But now the matter is different. There
+is a justice on the prairie--a rough, honest, uncorruptible justice. And
+that justice demands your life. You shall scourge Foss River no longer.
+You have murdered. You shall die!--"
+
+Jacky was about to go further with her inexorable denunciation when the
+door of the shed was flung wide, and eight Breeds, headed by Gautier and
+Baptiste, came in. They came in almost noiselessly, their moccasined
+feet giving out scarcely any sound upon the floor of the room.
+
+"Lord" Bill turned, startled at the sudden apparition. Jacky hesitated.
+Here was a contingency which none had reckoned upon. One glance at those
+dark, cruel faces warned all three that these prairie outcasts had been
+silent witnesses of everything that had taken place. It was a supreme
+moment, and the deadly pallor which had assumed a leadenish hue on
+Lablache's face told of one who appreciated the horror of that silent
+coming.
+
+Baptiste stepped over to where Jacky stood. He looked at her, and then
+his gaze passed to the dead man upon the floor. His beady, black eyes
+turned fiercely upon the cowering money-lender.
+
+"Ow!" he grunted. And his tone was the fierce expression of an Indian
+roused to homicidal purpose.
+
+Then he turned back to Jacky, and the look on his face changed to one of
+sympathy and even love.
+
+"Not you, missie--and the white man--no. The prairie is the land of the
+Breed and his forefathers--the Red Man. Guess the law of the prairie'll
+come best from such as he. You are one of us," he went on, surveying the
+girl's beautiful face in open admiration. "You've allus been mostly one
+of us--but I take it y'are too white. No, guess you ain't goin' ter muck
+yer pretty hands wi' the filthy blood of yonder," pointing to Lablache.
+"These things is fur the likes o' us. Jest leave this skunk to us. Death
+is the sentence, and death he's goin' ter git--an' it'll be somethin'
+ter remember by all who behold. An' the story shall go down to our
+children. This poor dead thing was our best frien'--an' he's
+dead--murdered. So, this is a matter for the Breed."
+
+Then the half-breed turned away. Seeing the chalk upon the floor he
+stooped and picked it up.
+
+"Let's have the formalities. It is but just--"
+
+Bill suddenly interrupted. He was angry at the interference of Baptiste.
+
+"Hold on!"
+
+Baptiste swung round. The white man got no further. The Breed broke in
+upon him with animal ferocity.
+
+"Who says hold on? Peace, white man, peace! This is for us. Dare to stop
+us, an'--"
+
+Jacky sprang between her lover and the ferocious half-breed.
+
+"Bill, leave well alone," she said. And she held up a warning finger.
+
+She knew these men, of a race to which she, in part, belonged. As well
+baulk a tiger of its prey. She knew that if Bill interfered his life
+would pay the forfeit. The sanguinary lust of these human devils once
+aroused, they cared little how it be satisfied.
+
+Bill turned away with a shrug, and he was startled to see that he had
+been noiselessly surrounded by the rest of the half-breeds. Had Jacky's
+command needed support, it would have found it in this ominous movement.
+
+Fate had decreed that the final act in the Foss River drama should come
+from another source than the avenging hands of those who had sealed
+their compact in Bad Man's Hollow.
+
+Baptiste turned away from "Lord" Bill, and, at a sign from him, Lablache
+was brought round to the other side of the table--to where the dead
+rancher was lying. Baptiste handed him the chalk and then pointed to the
+wall, on which had been written the score of old John's last gamble.
+
+"Write!" he said, turning back to his prisoner.
+
+Lablache gazed fearfully around. He essayed to speak, but his tongue
+clove to the roof of his mouth.
+
+"Write--while I tell you." The Breed still pointed to the wall.
+
+Lablache held out the chalk.
+
+"I kill John Allandale," dictated Baptiste.
+
+Lablache wrote.
+
+"Now, sign. So."
+
+Lablache signed. Jacky and Bill stood looking on silent and wondering.
+
+"Now," said Baptiste, with all the solemnity of a court official, "the
+execution shall take place. Lead him out!"
+
+At this instant Jacky laid her hand upon the half-breed's arm.
+
+"What--what is it?" she asked. And from her expression something of the
+stony calmness had gone, leaving in its place a look of wondering not
+untouched with horror.
+
+"The Devil's Keg!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+THE MAW OF THE MUSKEG
+
+
+Down the sloping shore to the level of the great keg, the party of
+Breeds--and in their midst the doomed money-lender--made their way.
+Jacky and "Lord" Bill, on their horses, brought up the rear.
+
+The silent _cortege_ moved slowly on, out on to the oozing path across
+the mire. Lablache was now beyond human aid.
+
+The right and wrong of their determination troubled the Breeds not one
+whit. But it was different with the two white people. What thoughts Bill
+had upon the matter he kept to himself. He certainly felt that he ought
+to interfere, but he knew how worse than useless his interference would
+be. Besides, the man should die. The law of Judge Lynch was the only law
+for such as he. Let that law take its course. Bill would have preferred
+the stout tree and a raw-hide lariat. But--and he shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+Jacky felt more deeply upon the subject. She saw the horror in all its
+truest lights, and yet she had flouted her lover's suggestion that she
+should not witness the end. Bad and all as Lablache was--cruel as was
+his nature, murderer though he be, surely no crime, however heinous,
+could deserve the fate to which he was going. She had
+remonstrated--urged Baptiste to forego his wanton cruelty, to deal out
+justice tempered with a mercy which should hurl the money-lender to
+oblivion without suffering--with scarce time to realize the happening.
+Her efforts were unavailing. As well try to turn an ape from its
+mischief--a man-eater from its mania for human blood. The inherent love
+of cruelty had been too long fostered in these Breeds of Foss River.
+Lablache had too long swayed their destinies with his ruthless hand of
+extortion. All the pent-up hatred, stored in the back cells of memory,
+was now let loose. For all these years in Foss River they had been
+forced to look to Lablache as the ruler of their destinies. Was he not
+the great--the wealthy man of the place? When he held up his finger they
+must work--and his wage was the wage of a dog. When money was scarce
+among them, would he not drive them starving from his great store? When
+their children and women were sick, would he not refuse them
+drugs--food--nourishment of any sort, unless the money was down? They
+had not even the privilege of men who owned land. There was no credit
+for the Breeds--outcasts. Baptiste and his fellows remembered all these
+things. Their time had come. They would pay Lablache--and their score of
+interest should be heavy.
+
+On their way from the shed to the muskeg Lablache had seen the
+reflection of the fire at his store in the sky. Gautier had taken
+devilish satisfaction in telling the wretched man of what had been
+done--mouthing the details in the manner of one who finds joy in
+cruelty. He remembered past injuries, and reveled in the money-lender's
+agony.
+
+After a toilsome journey the Breeds halted at the point where the path
+divided into three. Jacky and Bill sat on their horses and watched the
+scene. Then, slowly, something of Baptiste's intention was borne in upon
+them.
+
+Jacky reached out and touched her lover's arm.
+
+"Bill, what are they going to do?"
+
+She asked the question. But the answer was already with her. Her
+companion remained silent. She did not repeat her question.
+
+Then she heard Baptiste's raucous tones as he issued his commands.
+
+"Loose his hands!"
+
+Jacky watched Lablache's face in the dim starlight. It was ghastly. The
+whole figure of the man seemed to have shrunk. The wretched man stood
+free, and yet more surely a prisoner than any criminal in a condemned
+cell.
+
+The uncertain light of the stars showed only the dark expanse of the
+mire upon all sides. In the distance, ahead, the mountains were vaguely
+outlined against the sky; behind and around, nothing but that awful
+death-trap. Jacky had lived all her life beside the muskeg, but never,
+until that moment, had she realized the awful terror of its presence.
+
+Now Baptiste again commanded.
+
+"Prepare for death."
+
+It seemed to the listening girl that a devilish tone of exultation rang
+in his words. She roused herself from her fascinated attention. She was
+about to urge her horse forward. But a thin, powerful hand reached out
+and gripped her by the arm. It was "Lord" Bill. His hoarse whisper sung
+in her ears.
+
+"Your own words--Leave well alone."
+
+And she allowed her horse to stand.
+
+Now she leaned forward in her saddle and rested her elbows upon the horn
+in front of her. Again she heard Baptiste speak. He seemed to be in sole
+command.
+
+"We'll give yer a chance fur yer life--"
+
+Again the fiendish laugh underlaid the words.
+
+"It's a chance of a dog--a yellow dog," he pursued. Jacky shuddered.
+"But such a chance is too good fur yer likes. Look--look, those hills.
+See the three tall peaks--yes, those three, taller than the rest. One
+straight in front; one to the right, an' one away to the left. Guess
+this path divides right hyar--in three, an' each path heads for one of
+those peaks. Say, jest one trail crosses the keg--one. Savee? The others
+end sudden, and then--the keg."
+
+The full horror of the man's meaning now became plain to the girl. She
+heaved a great gasp, and turned to Bill. Her lover signed a warning. She
+turned again to the scene before her.
+
+"Now, see hyar, you scum," Baptiste went on. "This is yer chance. Choose
+yer path and foller it. Guess yer can't see it no more than yer ken see
+this one we're on, but you've got the lay of it. Guess you'll travel the
+path yer choose to--the end. If yer don't move--an' move mighty
+slippy--you'll be dumped headlong into the muck. Ef yer git on to the
+right path an' cross the keg safe, yer ken sling off wi' a whole skin.
+Guess you'll fin' it a ticklish job--mebbe you'll git through. But I've
+a notion yer won't. Now, take yer dog's chance, an' remember, its death
+if yer don't, anyway."
+
+The man ceased speaking. Jacky saw Lablache shake his great head. Then
+something made him look at the mountains beyond. There were the three
+dimly-outlined peaks. They were clear enough to guide him. Jacky,
+watching, saw the expression of his face change. It was as though a
+flicker of hope had risen within him. Then she saw him turn and eye
+Baptiste. He seemed to read in that cruel, dark face a vengeful purpose.
+He seemed to scent a trick. Presently he turned again to the hills.
+
+How plainly the watching girl read the varying emotions which beset him.
+He was trying to face this chance calmly, but the dark expanse of the
+surrounding mire wrung his heart with terror. He could not choose, and
+yet he knew he must do so or--
+
+Baptiste spoke again.
+
+"Choose!"
+
+Lablache again bent his eyes upon the hills. But his lashless lids would
+flicker, and his vision became impaired. He turned to the Breed with an
+imploring gesture. Baptiste made no movement. His relentless expression
+remained unchanged. The wretched man turned away to the rest of the
+Breeds.
+
+A pistol was leveled at his head and he turned back to Baptiste. The
+only comfort he obtained was a monosyllabic command.
+
+"Choose!"
+
+"God, man, I can't." Lablache gasped out the words which seemed
+literally to be wrung from him.
+
+"Choose!" The inexorable tone sent a shudder over the distraught man.
+Even in the starlight the expression of the villain's face was hideous
+to behold.
+
+Baptiste's voice again rang out on the still night air.
+
+"Move him!"
+
+A pistol was pushed behind his ear.
+
+"Do y' hear?"
+
+"Mercy--mercy!" cried the distraught man. But he made no move.
+
+There was an instant's pause. Then the loud report of the threatening
+pistol rang out. It had been fired through the lobe of his ear.
+
+"Oh, God!"
+
+The exclamation was forced from Jacky. The torture--the horror nearly
+drove her wild. She lifted her reins as though to ride to the villain's
+aid. Then something--some cruel recollection--stayed her. She remembered
+her uncle and her heart hardened.
+
+The merciless torture of the Breed was allowed to pass.
+
+To the wretched victim it seemed that his ear-drum must be split for the
+shot had left him almost stone deaf. The blood trickled from the wound.
+He almost leapt forward. Then he stood all of a tremble as he felt the
+ground shake beneath him. A cold sweat poured down his great face.
+
+"Choose!" Baptiste followed the terror-stricken man up.
+
+"No--no! Don't shoot! Yes, I'll go--only--don't shoot."
+
+The abject cowardice the great man now displayed was almost pitiable.
+Bill's lip curled in disdain. He had expected that this man would have
+shown a bold front.
+
+He had always believed Lablache to be, at least, a man of courage. But
+he did not allow for the circumstances--the surroundings. Lablache on
+the safe ground of the prairie would have faced disaster very
+differently. The thought of that sucking mire was too terrible. The oily
+maw of that death-trap was a thing to strike horror into the bravest
+heart.
+
+"Which path?" Baptiste spoke, waving his hand in the direction of the
+mountains.
+
+Lablache moved cautiously forward, testing the ground with his foot as
+he went. Then he paused again and eyed the mountains.
+
+"The right path," he said at last, in a guttural whisper.
+
+"Then start." The words rang out cuttingly upon the night air.
+
+Lablache fixed his eyes upon the distant peak of the mountain which was
+to be his guide. He advanced slowly. The Breeds followed, Jacky and Bill
+bringing up the rear. The ground seemed firm and the money-lender moved
+heavily forward. His breath came in gasps. He was panting, not with
+exertion, but with terror. He could not test the ground until his weight
+was upon it. An outstretched foot pressed on the grassy path told him
+nothing. He knew that the crust would hold until the weight of his body
+was upon it. With every successful step his terror increased. What would
+the next bring forth?
+
+His agony of mind was awful.
+
+He covered about ten yards in this way. The sweat poured from him. His
+clothes stuck to him. He paused for a second and took fresh bearings. He
+turned his head and looked into the muzzle of Baptiste's revolver. He
+shuddered and turned again to the mountains. He pressed forward. Still
+the ground was firm. But this gave him no hope. Suddenly a frightful
+horror swept over him. It was something fresh; he had not thought of it
+before. The fact was strange, but it was so. The path--had he taken the
+wrong one? He had made his selection at haphazard and he knew that there
+was no turning back. Baptiste had said so and he had seen his resolve
+written in his face. A conviction stole over him that he was on the
+wrong path. He knew he was. He must be. Of course it was only natural.
+The center path must be the main one. He stood still. He could have
+cried out in his mental agony. Again he turned--and saw the pistol.
+
+He put his foot out. The ground trembled at his touch. He drew back
+with a gurgling cry. He turned and tried another spot. It was firm until
+his weight rested upon it. Then it shook. He sought to return to the
+spot he had left. But now he could not be sure. His mind was uncertain.
+Suddenly he gave a jump. He felt the ground solid beneath him as he
+alighted. His face was streaming. He passed his hand across it in a
+dazed way. His terror increased a hundredfold. Now he endeavored to take
+his bearings afresh. He looked out at the three mountains. The right
+one--yes, that was it. The right one. He saw the peak, and made another
+step forward. The path held. Another step and his foot went through. He
+drew back with a cry. He tripped and fell heavily. The ground shook
+under him and he lay still, moaning.
+
+Baptiste's voice roused him and urged him on.
+
+"Git on, you skunk," he said. "Go to yer death."
+
+Lablache sat up and looked about. He felt dazed. He knew he must go on.
+Death--death which ever way he turned. God! did ever a man suffer so?
+The name of John Allandale came to his mind and he gazed wildly about,
+fancying some one had whispered it to him in answer to his thoughts. He
+stood up. He took another step forward with reckless haste. He
+remembered the pistol behind him. The ground seemed to shake under him.
+His distorted fancy was playing tricks with him. Another step. Yes, the
+ground was solid--no, it shook. The weight of his body came down on the
+spot. His foot went through. He hurled himself backwards again and
+clutched wildly at the ground. He shuddered and cried out. Again came
+Baptiste's voice.
+
+"Git on, or--"
+
+The distraught man struggled to his feet. He was becoming delirious with
+terror. He stepped forward again. The ground seemed solid and he laughed
+a horrid, wild laugh. Another step and another. He paused, breathing
+hard. Then he started to mutter,--
+
+"On--on. Yes, on again or they'll have me. The path--this is the right
+one. I'll cheat 'em yet."
+
+He strode out boldly. His foot sank in something soft He did not seem to
+notice it. Another step and his foot sank again in the reeking muck.
+Suddenly he seemed to realize. He threw himself back and obtained a
+foothold. He stood trembling. He turned and tried another direction.
+Again he sank. Again he drew back. His knees tottered and he feared to
+move. Suddenly a ring of metal pressed against his head from behind. In
+a state of panic he stepped forward on the shaking ground. It held. He
+paused, then stepped again, his foot coming down on a reedy tuft. It
+shook, but still held. He took another step. His foot sunk quickly, till
+the soft muck oozed round his ankle. He cried out in terror and turned
+to come back.
+
+Baptiste stood with leveled pistol.
+
+"On--on, you gopher. Turn again an' I wing yer. On, you bastard. You've
+chosen yer path, keep to it."
+
+"Mercy--I'm sinking."
+
+"Git on--not one step back."
+
+Lablache struggled to release his sinking limb. By a great effort he
+drew it out only to plunge it into another yielding spot. Again he
+struggled, and in his struggle his other foot slipped from its reedy
+hold. It, too, sank. With a terrible cry he plunged forward. He lurched
+heavily as he sought to drag his feet from the viscid muck. At every
+effort he sank deeper. At last he hurled himself full length upon the
+surface of the reeking mire. He cried aloud, but no one answered him.
+Under his body he felt the yielding crust cave. He clutched at the
+surface grass, but he only plucked the tufts from their roots. They gave
+him no hold.
+
+The silent figures on the path watched his death-struggle. It was
+ghastly--horrible. The expression of their faces was fiendish. They
+watched with positive joy. There was no pity in the hearts of the
+Breeds.
+
+They hearkened to the man's piteous cries with ears deafened to all
+entreaty. They simply watched--watched and reveled in the watching--for
+the terrible end which must come.
+
+Already the murderer's vast proportions were half buried in the slimy
+ooze, and, at every fresh effort to save himself, he sank deeper. But
+the death which the Breeds awaited was slow to come. Slow--slow. And so
+they would have it.
+
+Like some hungry monster the muskeg mouths its victims with oozing
+saliva, supping slowly, and seemingly revels in anticipation of the
+delicate morsel of human flesh. The watchers heard the gurgling mud,
+like to a great tongue licking, as it wrapped round the doomed man's
+body, sucking him down, down. The clutch of the keg seemed like
+something alive; something so all-powerful--like the twining feelers of
+the giant cuttle-fish. Slowly they saw the doomed man's legs disappear,
+and already the slimy muck was above his middle.
+
+The minutes dragged along--the black slime rose--it was at Lablache's
+breast. His arms were outspread, and, for the moment, they offered
+resistance to the sucking strength of the mud. But the resistance was
+only momentary. Down, down he was drawn into that insatiable maw. The
+dying man's arms canted upwards as his shoulders were dragged under.
+
+He cried--he shrieked--he raved. Down, down he went--the mud touched his
+chin. His head was thrown back in one last wild scream. The watchers saw
+the staring eyes--the wide-stretched, lashless lids.
+
+His cries died down into gurgles as the mud oozed over into his gaping
+mouth. Down he went to his dreadful death, until his nostrils filled and
+only his awful eyes remained above the muck. The watchers did not move.
+Slowly--slowly and silently now--the last of him disappeared. Once his
+head was below the surface his limpened arms followed swiftly.
+
+The Breeds reluctantly turned back from the horrid spectacle. The
+fearful torture was done. For a few moments no words were spoken. Then,
+at last, it was Baptiste who broke the silence. He looked round on the
+passion-distorted faces about him. Then his beady eyes rested on the
+horrified faces of Jacky and her lover. He eyed them, and presently his
+gaze dropped, and he turned back to his countrymen. He merely said two
+words.
+
+"Scatter, boys."
+
+The tragedy was over and his words brought down the curtain. In silence
+the half-breeds turned and slunk away. They passed back over their
+tracks. Each knew that the sooner he reached the camp again, the sooner
+would safety be assured. As the last man departed Baptiste stepped up to
+Jacky and Bill, who had not moved from their positions.
+
+"Guess there's no cause to complain o' yer friends," he said, addressing
+Jacky, and leering up into her white, set face.
+
+The girl shivered and turned away with a look of utter loathing on her
+face. She appealed to her lover.
+
+"Bill--Bill, send him away. It's--it's too horrible."
+
+"Lord" Bill fixed his gray eyes on the Breed.
+
+"Scatter--we've had enough."
+
+"Eh? Guess yer per-tickler."
+
+There was a truculent tone in Baptiste's voice.
+
+Bill's revolver was out like lightning.
+
+"Scatter!"
+
+And in that word Baptiste realized his dismissal.
+
+His face looked very ugly, but he moved off under the covering muzzle of
+the white man's pistol.
+
+Bill watched him until he was out of sight. Then he turned to Jacky.
+
+"Well? Which way?"
+
+Jacky did not answer for a moment. She gazed at the mountains. She
+shivered. It might have been the chill morning air--it might have been
+emotion. Then she looked back in the direction of Foss River. Dawn was
+already streaking the horizon.
+
+She sighed like a weary child, and looked helplessly about. Her lover
+had never seen her vigorous nature so badly affected. But he realized
+the terrors she had been through.
+
+Bill looked at her.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Yonder." She pointed to the distant hills. "Foss River is no longer
+possible."
+
+"The day that sees Lablache--"
+
+"Yes--come."
+
+Bill gazed lingeringly in the direction of the settlement. Jacky
+followed his gaze. Then she touched Nigger's flank with her spur. Golden
+Eagle cocked his ears, his head was turned towards Bad Man's Hollow. He
+needed no urging. He felt that he was going home.
+
+Together they rode away across the keg.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dr. Abbot had been up all night, as had most of Foss River. Everybody
+had been present at the fire. It was daylight when it was discovered
+that John Allandale and Jacky were missing. Lablache had been missed,
+but this had not so much interested people. They thought of Retief and
+waited for daylight.
+
+Silas brought the news of "Poker" John's absence--also his niece's.
+Immediately was a "hue and cry" taken up. Foss River bustled in search.
+
+It was noon before the rancher was found. Doctor Abbot and Silas had set
+out in search together. The fifty-acre pasture was Silas's suggestion.
+Dr. Abbot did not remember the implement shed.
+
+They found the old man's body. They found Lablache's confession. Silas
+could not read. He took no stock in the writing and thought only of the
+dead man. The doctor had read, but he said nothing. He dispatched Silas
+for help.
+
+When the foreman had gone Dr. Abbot picked up the black wig which Bill
+had used. He stood looking at it for a while, then he put it carefully
+into his pocket.
+
+"Ah! I think I understand something now," he said, slowly fingering the
+wig. "Um--yes. I'll burn it when I get home."
+
+Silas returned with help. John Allandale was buried quietly in the
+little piece of ground set aside for such purposes. The truth of the
+disappearance of Lablache, Jacky and "Lord" Bill was never known outside
+of the doctor's house.
+
+How much or how little Dr. Abbot knew would be hard to tell. Possibly he
+guessed a great deal. Anyway, whatever he knew was doubtless shared with
+"Aunt" Margaret. For when the doctor had a secret it did not remain his
+long. "Aunt" Margaret had a way with her. However, she was the very
+essence of discretion.
+
+Foss River settled down after its nine days' wonder. It was astonishing
+how quickly the affair was forgotten. But then, Foss River was not yet
+civilized. Its people had not yet learned to worry too much over their
+neighbors' affairs.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of the Foss River Ranch
+by Ridgwell Cullum
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE FOSS RIVER RANCH ***
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